Fighting For You by HarrynHermione4eva

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 21/05/2005
Last Updated: 07/07/2005
Status: Paused

Hermione discovers a flaw in Voldemort's plan to destroy Harry. In the meantime, the
boy-who-lived is too depressed to do much of anything. Hermione must snap him out of it so that
Harry can defeat Voldemort before he meets his own potential demise... Sorry about the wait!!!




1. Start Over
-------------



Fighting For You

By Harrynhermione4eva

Disclaimer: I do not, by any means, own Harry Potter…you might want to check with JK Rowling on
that one…

There she was, sitting there. Just sitting, knitting something. Harry could not tell what she
was knitting. She was in her favourite chair by the fire, just knitting and humming some muggle
song to herself. Why she was affecting him so much he did not know.

It had been a common thing lately. Then knitting—well yes, she had been doing that quite a bit
too—but also this feeling like his heart dropped into his stomach every time he saw her. Usually he
tried to push it out of his head. Lately that had become harder. Harry knew Voldemort could read
his mind. He had to be careful.

At first it had just been simple things that seemed silly to go crazy over. She would reach
across him during breakfast and her breast would rub against his arm. One time he needed to excuse
himself from breakfast in order to take a cold shower. Of course, he hadn't told anyone. No one
knew about this little crush he had recently developed—over the last year to be exact. It went away
eventually. Then the worst happened. It was replaced by something much more horrifying—love.

He loved her. It was confusing though because he didn't know how to act around her. Yes, as
stupid as it sounded (since she was only Hermione, one of his best friends) just Hermione turned
into Hermione. Just Hermione, only she wasn't. She was so much more than that. It was a scary
concept by itself.

That wasn't the scariest thought. After everything he'd been through, all the dragons,
death, and facing true fear, Voldemort knew about Harry's obsession with Hermione. He was sure
of it. Voldemort was the only one who knew, and it infuriated Harry. No matter how hard he
practiced occulmancy, dreams would slip in every now and then. They had all been the same. Hermione
would be in the library, studying for her NEWTs, and Harry would be searching for her to let her
know it was time for dinner. She wouldn't look up from her studying so he'd lightly kiss
her cheek to distract her. Confusion would over wash her face, but before she could say anything
he'd be kissing her in a desperate fashion. She'd wipe everything off the table and they
would have at it right in the middle of the library. Right on top of her favourite desk. He never
visited her in the library anymore.

The last time he dreamed, he selfishly tried holding onto the image for too long before he heard
a cold voice in the back, whispering to him. “I see your source, Potter,” it would say. That was
when Lord Voldemort knew.

What source? He pondered it for a few days before he figured it out for himself. She was his
source for every need, every want…every desire. She held him together yet broke him apart. He could
talk to her for hours about everything. She was his source, his love…something Voldemort could not
do. Something Voldemort prevented him from doing.

Harry had sat her down around Christmas time, a year ago this month, and gave her a blunt
version of the prophecy. Hermione was the only one he ever told. Ron was still his best friend, but
he could talk to Hermione. She helped him carry his load. The speech had been quite brief before
they were both a crying wreck, clinging to each other for dear life. That was when he knew he loved
her. The way her hair clung to the tears on her face, and how she looked beautiful even though she
had been crying. She had never been ugly in his eyes. Bookish, yes, ugly, never. He loved her for
her beauty, and for her compassion. Never would she ignore him when he was down…usually. Most of
the time she would push through the walls he had created, the walls that everyone else gave up on.
He could always talk to her, and always had. She would listen, and he felt loved…and wanted. She
was the only one who would put the rest of her life on hold for him.

And he never wanted her more.

The soft glow of the fire lit up her eyes. They sparkled and she looked so happy, as though the
world was not falling apart around her. She looked up, suddenly, and smiled at him.

“Harry,” she said, setting her knitting down. “How long have you been standing there?” She
gestured for him to sit on the couch opposite her.

“Not long.” He blushed as he sat across from her. To think she caught him staring at her. “What
are you knitting?”

“Oh, just a sweater for Dobby. I figure I ought to finish it quick so I can do Winky's
before Christmas.” He nodded vaguely. She narrowed her eyebrows. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes there is.”

“No, it's nothing.”

“Harry you can tell—”

“I don't want to talk about it,” he snapped. For a moment she looked shocked, as though he
had slapped her. She only nodded stiffly and returned quickly to her work, concentrating hard on
the needles and knitting it the muggle way.

Harry sighed. “Look Hermione, I'm sorry.”

She only shrugged, not looking up at him. They sat in painful silence for what seemed like
hours. Ten minutes later she put her work down and looked up at him. Tears were streaming her
cheeks.

“Why do you do this, Harry?”

He was confused. “What do you—”

“You know what I'm talking about. Why do you push me away?”

“Look, I said—”

“I know what you said, Harry, and I know that you're up to you head in insurmountable
stress, but why won't you let me help you?”

“But I tell you everything.”

“Not lately you haven't.” She looked down at her hands. “You've pushed me so far from
you lately.”

She was right. He had tried to push her away. It was the only way he would know she was safe.
Staying as far away from her emotionally as possible was best for the both of them…right?

“I don't know what to do anymore.” He said this more to himself than to her. Shaking her
head, she moved to sit next to him on the couch and took his hand in hers.

“Harry,” she stroked his hand. “The only way to get through this is to talk about it.”

Harry looked down at their hands and felt his throat close around his voice. “He's listening
you know.”

“Shh,” she murmured, stroking his hair now and pushing the hair on his forehead aside to reveal
his scar. “He can't hear us.”

“Yes he can!” Harry screamed, standing up hysterically, trying to put as much distance between
them.

“You don't need to whisper because he can hear everything I hear.” She tried reaching for
him, but he dodged behind the table. “He hears everything going on in my head too.” Hermione
cornered him, “and he knows everything you think too.”

“He can't touch my thoughts.”

“Yes he can,” Harry sobbed frantically. “He knows all about you.”

“Did he tell you this?” She got closer to him.

“I know he's capable of it.” She stepped even closer.

“He can't touch me.” Her face was inches from his.

“You don't know that.”

“Yes I do.” She tilted her head and brushed her lips against his.

“He can see us.” Hermione shook her head so that her hair tickled his cheeks and her nose bumped
his.

“If you love me as much as I love you, he can't touch us.” She leaned in again until her
lips had covered his, and he almost died.

Almost

He kissed her back for a moment, and then pulled away.

“Why are you doing this to yourself,” he asked her. “I don't want anything to happen to
you.”

“Harry, kiss me.” In an instant, he found himself pinned up against the wall. Hermione was
kissing him desperately. Soon enough he kissed her back, and wound his arms around her waist. He
tried to draw her closer to him as she deepened the kiss. There was no going back. He was all ready
drowning.

She grappled at his shirt, his arms, trying to pull him closer to he. He flipped them around so
he was pressing her into the wall. All of a sudden, the breasts that had given him a small erection
before now gave him a full-fledged hard on.

She gasped for a moment before she resumed their kiss. Before he knew what was happening, their
shirts were on the floor…wait…

“Hermione,” he moaned. She shut him up by slipping her tongue into his mouth as he fumbled with
her bra. Soon the bra joined the pile and he kissed her hard, cupping a breast in his hand. She
gasped again as he rolled it around in his hand, not really knowing what to do. Luckily it was
Christmas and everyone had gone home, or else the Head Girl would get in big trouble for
fornicating with the boy-who-everyone-expects-to defeat-the -Dark-Lord. He ground his erection into
her pelvis and was rewarded with a deep groan that flew through every nerve of his body.

He picked her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist, and carried her clumsily to the
boy's dorm. They had to stop a few times on the stairs to kiss, but eventually made it to
Harry's room where Harry threw her unceremoniously onto the bed and moved to jump on top of
her. He devoured her lips in his own as she groped for his belt, pulling his jeans and boxers down.
Wincing, his erection slid along the fabric and almost came when her hands brushed against him. She
was a curious person. There was no doubt in his mind that she was any different in the bedroom. He
hissed as she caressed him, and clenched his teeth when he moved her hand from him.

“Not yet.” He gave her a kiss of assurance and moved the kissed down her body, pulling her
uniform skirt and knickers down her legs, slipping them off her feet. Looking up, he could tell she
was blushing. Never in his life had she looked more beautiful, blushing at him like she was now.
She turned ten shades darker as he kissed up her leg and inside her thigh before he reached her
center. He stopped abruptly, realizing no one had ever touched her like he was. No one had come
close…

“You're a…you know…right?”

She looked down at him an nodded. Relief flooded his body.

“Me too,” he murmured before he kissed the inside of her thigh and inward, until he could no
longer handle himself and let his tongue go.

Her legs went limp, yet they widened, and her hands reached down to pull him closer. They
tangled in his hair as he licked her. Her head flew back, deep moans escaping her lips as her body
writhed beneath him. It wasn't long before he knew she was gone…and it was all because of him.
Her body tensed up and she let out a long scream, letting him know he had just made Hermione
Granger come.

He felt like he could conquer the world.

Blindly, he crawled up her body and fumbled a bit before he slipped into her, getting stuck for
a moment and panicking.

“You need to do it quick,” Hermione muttered through clenched teeth as though she were expecting
the worst. He backed his hips a bit before he slammed into her. She was so warm, so tight. He
almost died.

A sharp cry of pain sobered the high he was feeling as he looked at her face contorted in
pain.

“H-Hermione…” he stuttered, afraid that he hurt her.

“Just stay there.” She gripped him even tighter, and buried her head into his neck, sobbing
slightly. Then it hit him.

“Oh, Merlin. I'm sorry, Hermione.”

“It's okay,” she let out a long breath and lessened the grip. “I think you can move
now.”

He did. He pulled out of her and slid back in, and slow. Her eyes fluttered shut as she relaxed,
letting her body fit between the bed and his body. He could feel his own orgasm building up quickly
as he pushed into her faster now. Hermione was panting and moaning loudly as their hips slapped
together in a frenzied coupling. He continued to slam into her and looked up, seeing her in pure
ecstasy. She looked at him with dark eyes glazed over…and lost it. Everything he had felt in the
last seven years spilled into her that moment as she whispered his name, placing sweaty kisses
along his scar, his cheek, dragging his lips and tongue between her teeth. His hips slowed down and
he collapsed on top of her. Hermione clutched his sweaty body to her own as she rode out the last
few waves of pleasure. A pleasant hum filled the room.

They lay there, taking in everything that had just occurred. She stroked his hair with his head
buried in her neck. Her scent burned itself into his memory.

She nuzzled his neck and hummed contently, creating an odd sensation with his all ready numb
body. It was a pleasant feeling.

“Harry,” she murmured. The hot air on his neck was making him hard again.

“Yeah?” he groaned.

“You're not going to get rid of me.”

He sighed. “I know.”

~^*^~

It was in the 30s, pushing 38. Laying in bed was enough to make a person sweat. Harry was an
exception. Being seventeen had its advantages.

His wand was propped on the bedside table, shooting cold air in his direction. The cool air was
relieving, but could do nothing for his overwhelmed mind.

*No cards, no phone calls…Ron knows how to use the telephone now, wouldn't he want to call
me just to use the phone?*

He didn't even want to think about Hermione. Thinking about her brought up a whole new
topic.

Hermione Granger, the most brilliant mind to grace the planet, yet she had no clue. He could
trust her with his life, yet, the mere thought of calling her up scared him. What would he say,
“Hello, Hermione. I fancy you. What do you say about a quick shag? I can fly to your house.”
No…small things first. There were no small things when it came to how he felt for her. All control
he had over his mind was failing, and he had to return it somehow. It was too risky.

Any love he had for her he converted to anger. Protecting her was vital. Voldemort could not
find out.

Suddenly something small and quite squirmy landed on his face. Harry jumped up and Pig took off,
fluttering erratically around his head. Harry sighed and managed to pluck the letter from the
bird's twitching let.

“Go sit with Hedwig.” The small bird flew toward the cage of the large snowy owl, easily fitting
through the bars. Hedwig gave a soft hoot and scooted over. She seemed to always like Pig's
company.

Harry turned back to the letter. It was obvious from the chicken scratch that Ron had written
it…

*Harry-*

*Hey mate! Happy birthday! We're both men now, eh? Hermione probably disagrees, but Dad
says he might steal you away from the Dursleys a day early to get your apparition license. I
don't know if* other*s app**rove, though. Dad still needs to talk to*
him*.*

*He says I shouldn't write any letters (which is why me and someone else haven't
written or rung you all summer.) You know the story. Dad doesn't know about this letter. Make
sure that Pig gets back to me by morning, okay?*

*Well, I guess I'll see you in a couple weeks. Don't go around doing too much magic
now that you can legally…I expect the muggles wouldn't like it so much. You can always give
Dudley a pig snout though. I think it would suit him quite well. Take a picture of it when you
do.*

*Happy Birthday Harry,*

*Ron*

Harry smiled slightly, but then frowned again. He hated that he couldn't send messages to
his friends. He hated that he couldn't get his apparition license until he was escorted to do
so. He really couldn't stand the fact that he would be cooped up at the Dursleys for another
month. His thoughts drifted back to Hermione.

Less than a month till he got to see her.

~^*^~

“I can't believe you two have your apparition licenses.”

“Yeah. Too bad you can't get your until the end of the month, eh?” Hermione shot Ron a glare
as Harry stared out the window…trying to think of anything but her.

“I still can't believe Ernie McMillian is Head Boy.”

Ron grumbled something under his breath before Hermioine chirped back in. “Oh, I can't
believe this is our last year of school.”

“Yes, its so sad,” Ron quipped. He turned to Harry.

“You still thinking of Auror, mate?” Harry looked up, being thrown out of his daze. He
wasn't in the greatest mood after hearing that Malfoy was once again a year behind him…in
quidditch that is. Malfoy was the new Slytherin quidditch captain…not that he shouldn't have
seen it coming…

“What?”

“I said, you still thinking of being an Auror?”

“Yeah,” Harry said harshly, “or, you know, get myself killed by Voldemort or something.”

“Harry…”

“You know what, Hermione? Can you just leave me alone…the both of you,” he added when Ron was
about to say something. There was evident hurt in her eyes, but as long as he could keep her away
from him…

“Fine, I'll go do rounds. I should have done one ten minutes ago, but I was trying to talk
to you, Harry.” She stormed out of the compartment. Ron and Harry both stared after her.

“Nice going mate.”

“She'll be back.” She didn't come back for the whole train ride. Instead, they saw
Neville, Dean, Seamus and a few other Gryffindors, making light conversation with them.

When they finally reached Hogsmeade, Harry got off the train and immediately saw a tear-stained
Hermione entering one of the carriages with Ginny. The youngest Weasley glared at him before he got
into a separate carriage with Ron.

The ride to the castle was very quiet.

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2. Crap Detention
-----------------



Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or the phrase “word vomit,” which comes from the movie
“Mean Girls.” Harry Potter comes from JK Rowling, if you didn't all ready know.

A/N at the bottom…sorry I haven't updated…

A new year, his last year…and it was all ready starting out like hell.

It was only the first day of the term and Harry felt like shit. The sun was shining, the birds
were singing, but nothing could heal his mood. Hermione had successfully ignored him since the
episode on the train and Harry woke up to a blinding headache. Somehow the Occulmancy had worsened
his headaches.

Ron followed Harry down to the Great Hall for breakfast the first day of classes. As they began
tucking into their breakfast, Harry groaned.

“What is it mate?” Harry didn't respond, but instead let his forehead bang onto the
table.

NEWT potions, his first class. Of all the classes...

“Might as well eat something if you're going up against Snape.” Harry nodded with his
forehead still resting on the table. Over the past year, Ron seemed to grow up just a little. He
became more aware of his surroundings and discovered that studying would prevent him from bothering
Hermione all the time for her answers to homework.

Hermione.

Harry would have to see her in potions. Last year he usually walked with her to the dungeon. She
kept him sane in the class…she was the reason he didn't spray Snape with shrinking potion and
squash him like a bug. Hermione, who was now sitting across from him and Ron, purposefully not
looking in his direction.

“Harry tells me you two have potions first.” So maybe Ron still was a bit dense.

“That's right, I do have potions first.” Hermione didn't look up from the toast she was
buttering. Ron turned to Harry with an odd sort of look on his face.

“Do you reckon you'll be partners with Hermione, then?”

Harry couldn't help the word vomit, “I don't know, it looked like Millicent Bullstrode
really wanted to partner with me this year.” Hermione set down her fork and knife loudly on her
plate. Seamus and Neville looked up from their conversation to watch the row going on.

“Harry, you don't need to act like such an errant pumpion.”

“And you don't need to be so anal all the time, asking me so many questions about my scar.”
Harry's eyes were darkening and he glowered over her as he stood up. The entire hall was
staring at them now.

“Harry, sit down. You know I only—“

“I'll see you in potions.” Harry threw down his napkin and stormed away from the table.

He couldn't believe her, acting like she had. They might as well go back to first year with
the way she had been ignoring him. Like a child would ignore their parents when they weren't
getting what they wanted. She was acting like a downright pain in the…

Harry stopped walking. He relayed the conversation in his head. She ignored him for snapping at
her, he snapped at her again so she responded and once again he snapped at her while she was trying
to…bloody hell.

What an arse he had been.

He was more the child than she had been. Quickly he shook his head and continued down to the
dungeon fifteen minutes early to class.

When Harry arrived in the potions classroom, he chose the desk in the front row that was a bit
off to the right and sunk deeply into his chair. Sighing, he rested his head in his hands and tried
to shake his mood out. He didn't notice when someone sat next to him.

“Why do you do this to yourself Harry? Why do you do this to me?”

“Hermione, I just—”

“No, I don't understand why you feel as though you need to continually push me away. I'm
only trying to—”

“I know,” Harry said more to the desk than he did to her. He didn't want to look at her…he
knew her eyes would be all red and puffy. Her voice gave it away. Never in his life did he want to
cause her pain like this.

“You know I'd never do anything to hurt you, right?” He nodded. “Then why do you keep doing
this to me?”

“I don't know.” She was about to open her mouth when he snapped towards her, putting up his
finger to silence her. Everything he was about to say was lost when he looked into her eyes.

They were still quite swollen from tears, yet she never looked so beautiful. Instead of saying
what he was going to, he took her into his arms and clutched onto her as though they'd never
before embraced. Her tiny hands rubbed his back and one ventured up to stroke his hair. Never
before had he felt so content in his life.

“I just…it's hard to say…I—”

“Shh,” she lulled, “You can tell me when you're ready.” Harry pulled back from her, still
holding her hands in his. She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb.

“I want to tell you, it's just…I, well—”

“Go on, tell her Potty.” Both Harry and Hermione's heads shot up at the apparent voice they
both hated so much. “You were going to say that you can't be friends with a mudblood anymore,
go on.”

Harry got up so quickly that the head rush almost knocked him out, but Hermione was quicker.

“Stop, Harry, I don't care what he says.”

“Well I do.” Harry wrenched himself from Hermione's grip. Crabbe and Goyle laughed dumbly
behind Malfoy.

“That's right, Potter, go ahead and have a go at me. You can't—uff.” Harry's fist
had gotten there quicker than Malfoy's snide remark. For the second time in his life, Harry
pounced on Malfoy, punching blindly as his adrenaline took over. He could vaguely feel Hermione
trying to pry him away as Crabbe and Goyle tried defending their leader by accidentally shoving
Hermione into a table. Before Harry could strangle Crabbe, his arms and legs snapped together and
he fell forward, unable to move.

“There will be no muggle fighting in my classroom,” a flat voice droned. “You should know they
don't allow that in Hogwarts, Potter. Fifty points from Gryffindor.” The lot of Gryffindors
standing in the doorway groaned.

“What about Slytherin!?” One of them shouted.

“Potter clearly attacked Malfoy, so I don't see why he should have to suffer.”

“But Crabbe pushed Hermione.”

“Nu-un,” Malfoy groaned from the ground. “Granger was cheering him on.”

Snape smirked, “Is that so? Perhaps it should be fifty points each…what do you say, Potter?”
Harry could not move from the curse Snape had laid on him although his eyes were burning. “I
thought so. Fifty each it is.”

“But professor—”

“Take Potter with you to see your head of house, Granger. I know Professor McGonagall will be
pleased to see her favourite student. It's quite unfortunate that the Head Girl would miss her
final first class of the year.” An abnormally cruel grin spread itself on his greasy face as he
lifted the curse from Harry. Hermione ushered Harry from the room quickly before they could get a
chance to look at Malfoy acting all pleased with himself. They pushed through students to get
through the door and it wasn't until they got around the corner that Hermione started crying.
Other than the sounds of her whimpering, their trip to McGonagall's office was very quiet.

***

“I can't believe we have to do this.” Hermione didn't respond.

Their visit with Professor McGonagall had been far from pleasant. Not only had she lectured them
to the point Hermione was crying again, but they would be missing their first NEWT Defense Against
the Dark Arts class of the year. Instead, she gave them detention of the worst sort.

“Why don't we do a quick cleaning charm and let it be over with?”

Hermione sighed impatiently. “Professor McGonagall clearly said, no magic to clean the
owlery.”

“How would she know?” Harry picked up another clump of bird crap.

“You know she could tell, Harry, she's no idiot. She could tell the difference between the
poor job we're doing and waving our wands to get it over wi—ahhh!” Hermione shrieked as one of
the barn owls nearly took her head out and flew over Harry. He felt something splatter on his head
and groaned. Hermione, however, looked up and seemed as though she were trying very hard to
suppress the laughter building in her.

“It's not funny, Hermione.”

“You're right, Harry it's not—” but a wave of hysterics washed over her and she burst
out laughing, pointing her wand at him and muttering *scourgify* somewhere in her fit. It was
good to see her laughing so hard. Harry doubted he had ever seen her laugh like this before.

His eyebrows unfurrowed slightly and a smile grew on his face.

“I suppose it's a bit funny.”

“Oh, Harry! It looked as though your entire head—” she couldn't even finish from another
wave of laughter racking her body. Harry even began to laugh.

It was wonderful, being able to laugh again. He couldn't remember the last time he laughed
so hard.

And this girl, this woman. This wonderful woman who was able to make him laugh and cry all at
the same time. She was amazing, and he hugged her, losing his balance and tumbling down, bringing
her with him as they tried to grab hold of their senses rolling around in the crap-infested
straw.

Suddenly the door to the owlery flew open and Hermione stopped laughing in her place beneath
Harry. The smile on his face quickly froze as he turned his head to see Ron Weasley gaping at the
tow of the, quite speechless. It was then he realized Hermione was pinned quite snugly beneath his
hips and a strange sort of heat flooded his body. He could only imagine what this looked like.

A/N: I'm soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo sorry I haven't updated in so long…I
kept trying to write this, but it never came out right. I don't even feel 100% about this. Plus
I've been quite busy with two jobs and getting ready for college. Once again, I'm very
sorry, but hope you liked this chapter somewhat…

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3. NEWT Level
-------------



Chapter 3: NEWT Level

Harry couldn't seem to move as he watched Ron's mouth open and close stupidly. From
underneath him, Hermione seemed the same way. All three of them weren't sure what exactly
should be said.

“I-I heard you two had detention…” Ron said quickly, never tearing his gaze from Hermione.
“Heard Malfoy boasting about it in the Great Hall, thought you two would be done by now…” he
trailed off as he let the door close behind him. Harry jumped off Hermione and ran for the door,
throwing it open.

“Ron!” He yelled, the footsteps on the stairs growing fainter. “Ron!” Harry sighed and turned
back to look at Hermione who was now brushing straw off her skirt. She had pieces stuck to her
jumper and small clumps tangled in her hair. It was quite cute.

“I suppose we should let him be on his own for a bit,” Hermione straightened out her jumper, “We
can't talk to him until he's sorted his mind a bit.”

Harry nodded in agreement. They had some sort of tacit agreement that Ron walked in on an
innocent roll in the hay that had no further intentions…or did it? The same sort of thing happened
fourth year with the Tri Wizard tournament. When Harry had been picked to be one of the champions,
Ron needed a bit of time to himself to collect his thoughts. That's how Ron was…his reactions
were too impulsive to act on before he gave them some thought.

“Perhaps we should go talk to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Harry suggested.
“You know, catch up on what we missed.”

“Good idea.” Harry held the door open for Hermione as he set a scourgify on the owlery before he
followed her down the staircase and to the defense against the dark arts room in silence.

Harry noticed the way Hermoine walked, so deep in thought yet set straight on her destination.
Her eyes would dart all over, even though she successfully walked without bumping into anything.
Sometimes he wondered if her brain ever stopped working in overdrive, and if it did, what her
thoughts were. Did she ever think of him?

“Come in,” Harry never noticed when Hermione knocked on the door. She opened it briskly as they
both filed into the dimly lit room. Their new defense against the dark arts teacher, a woman they
had all seen at the welcoming feast, was scribbling furiously at her table; jars of red and black
ink lay out on her desk.

She looked up at them and back down to her paper. “Yes?”

Hermione frowned slightly. “H-hello, professor. My name's Hermione Granger, and this is
Harry Potter.” The woman quit her hasty scribbling to look up at Harry's scar and did a once
over, returning to her scratchy writing.

“I wondered when I would meet you, Mr. Potter.”

Harry wasn't sure whether he should be upset about her staring, or offended by her lack of
eye-contact. “We had detention…that's what—”

“On your first day?” The woman looked up at them again, quite amused. “You're more like your
father than I expected.”

“Did you know my father?” Harry asked eagerly.

“You could say that.” She went back to her insistent scribbling. He hated how vague she was
being, and could sense it was irking Hermione too. People were always keeping secrets from him. It
took all his strength to not lash out, screaming *come out with it all ready.* “I also knew
that shirty man they made your godfather.”

“You knew Sirius Black?” Harry had almost bolted forward. Suddenly he wanted to know everything
she knew, all the stories Dumbledore didn't entirely know, all the things Lupin still hid from
him.

“Yeah, I guess you could say we broke up after they drug that cur off to Azkaban…but enough
about that, I suppose you want your assignments, don't you?”

Just as quickly as his happiness came from finding someone else who could tell him about his
parents, it left quickly. Why didn't she want to say anything?

Hermione seemed too shocked to say a word. “Well I suppose I'll give it to you. We're
learning the physical properties of dark magic. You know, things like why the bloody hell does it
hurt so much to be under the cruciatus curse and where does all the magical energy come from…how
that energy is put into a curse so strong…”

“So basically in muggle terms, the physical chemistry behind magic?” Hermione was bound to ask
it sooner or later. Harry, on the other hand was quite lost.

“Precisely. Magic doesn't just happen…you will learn these differences in your other
classes…but this class will be a balance of book and field work…labs if you must. I want two meters
on the electrolysis of dark magic and how it differs from other magic…due Thursday.”

“Thank you professor.” Hermione nodded curtly and began to leave. Harry followed her.

“Oh, and Mr. Potter?” Harry turned around, a slight furrow in his brow. “James would be proud of
you, even though you're a good kid.” Harry nodded slightly and left, slamming the door behind
him.

“I do not like that woman.”

“What are you talking about, Harry?”

“'James would be proud of you, even though you're a good kid.' What the toss is that
supposed to mean?”

“Well, it seems she—”

“Likes to dangle this bit of information about my parents right in front of my eyes.”

“Harry, I'm sure—”

“She gets some sort of pleasure knowing she knew them…and what's this with Sirius?”

“Harry, I'm sure she knew them, but wants to wait a bit before talking about them in too
much detail.” Harry sighed loudly. If he didn't stop talking now, he'd be shouting at the
top of his lungs. He hated to draw attention. “Besides, we still need to get our work from the
other classes we missed…what did you have?”

“Occulmancy and Astronomy…Dumbledore should know by now. He usually doesn't give me much to
work on outside of class, and Sinistra will want some star charts most likely…”

“Right, well I have NEWT level arithmancy and ancient runes, and after what we missed in defense
against the dark arts, I must be loads behind…”

“I'm sure you're ahead Hermione…let's just go see.”

After Hermione collected the work from her other two professors, they headed back to Gryffindor
tower.

“Phoenix String.”

“You children are always bothering me in the middle of my practice…”

When they stepped inside, Ginny was sitting next to Ron, who looked quite nettled. His face
flushed ten shades when he saw Harry and Hermione, muttering something about the library and taking
off, ignoring the protests of the Fat Lady. They turned to Ginny who seemed busy with a muggle sort
of book in her lap.

“What is his problem?” Hermione asked, sitting on Ginny's left. Harry sat on her right.

“Isn't it obvious, Hermione? You of all people should know.”

“Know what?” Harry asked.

“But we…he thought we were…but it wasn't…”

“He thought you were.”

“Were what?” Harry was fed up with all the secrets floating around. Hermione sighed and stood
up.

“I need to talk to him,” she said and left the common room with the Fat Lady yelling *make up
your mind!*

Harry turned to Ginny, “What the bloody hell was that all about?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Can't you see that my prat of a brother fancies Hermione?” Harry had
to struggle greatly to keep his eyes in his head.

“When did that happen?”

Ginny shook her head and returned to her book. “Around fourth year, honestly, boys are so
dense.”

Harry couldn't tear his mind from the knowledge that his best mate was nutters for their
best friend. Ron couldn't fancy Hermione, he just couldn't…and what if she fancied him
back? It would drive Harry mad.

The hard frown n his face slowly softened as he said good night to Ginny and headed up to his
dorm room. His head was pounding with this new knowledge and he didn't quite know how to handle
it. He should be happy for them if they give it a go. Every bloke should root his best mate on, but
he didn't want it to happen.

And bloody hell, he had no clue why.

~*()*~

It was a nice day for Hermione's 17th birthday…perfect weather for an apparition
test. If anyone shouldn't be flustered over an exam it should have been Hermione, but she
seemed more nervous than any other time…even before taking her OWLS. She sat down at breakfast with
a huff, ignoring the guys when they wished her happy birthday and kept scanning the pages of “A
Guide to Simple Apparation.”

“Hermione, quit it. You'll scare the owls away. Fred and George are supposed to be sending
me something today…” Hermione glared at him. Things between the three of them seemed to be back to
normal after that night Hermione had talked to Ron, though he would never look her in the eye. This
Harry noticed, and Hermione would busy herself with something to keep from speaking directly to
Ron, as though it were awkward. It worried Harry, yet he felt relieved to know nothing happened
between the two, unless they were keeping something from him…

“Oh, I just know I'm going to fail.”

“With the way you're acting, you're sure to splinch yourself or something…perhaps half
of you will end up back here.”

“Ron, how many times do I have to tell you…”

“You can't apparate or disapparate on Hogwarts grounds.” Harry and Ron finished for her. She
scoffed and kept flipping furiously through her guide.

“Hermione, if Harry and me here could pass the blasted exam, you'd have to be pretty
knackered to not pass it.”

“I know, it's just I've been so busy with my school work that I completely forgot about
today, which reminds me. You two need to pay close attention for me in class so I don't miss
anything.”

“You're six chapters ahead, Hermione, you probably know more right now than we will at the
end of the lesson.”

“I hope you at least pay attention then.”

“Without you there to poke at us, I doubt it.”

Hermione scowled at Ron and checked her watch. “Well I ought to get going. How would that look
if I were late…”

“Good luck, Hermione,” Harry said.

“Yeah, send us a postcard if you end up in Aruba.” Harry snickered at Ron's joke.

“Perhaps I'll send you one from Bulgaria.” Ron shut up instantly, having never quite gotten
over her platonic friendship with Viktor Krum. Harry smiled weakly as she waved goodbye. They
finished their breakfast in silence and headed slowly to NEWT Transfiguration.

“Why would a seventeen-year-old witch need to be friends with an old Bulgarian seeker anyway?”
Ron muttered. “He's too old for her anyway, not that I really care.”

Transfiguration was long and boring as usual. Today they were learning about the molecular
arrangement of an animagus transformation. The subject only made him think of his father and
Sirius. His mood had been ruined for the day.

Charms wasn't much more fun either…learning more physical properties to magic, boring stuff.
It wasn't until they were headed for the Great Hall for lunch that Ron brought it up, something
he would think about once in a while.

“D'ya reckon Hermione would ever lighten up enough to let us try become Animagi?”

I would agree it would be stupid to attempt alone, but with help from McGonagall or Dumbledore,
it would be feasible.” The boys turned around to see Hermione grinning ear to ear like a pixie.

“I take it you passed?” She nodded vehemently and leapt into Harry's arms, squeezing the
life out of him. Ron sort of patter her on the back funny before she embraced him too.

“Told you had nothing to worry about.”

“I know, I should be more worried about the other people testing…they obviously didn't study
one bit.”

“So you would be talking about me and Ron?” Hermione tried hard not to roll her eyes, pretending
to ignore his comment.

“So what is this about becoming animagi?”

“Well I've been thinking it couldn't hurt to try it…who knows, it could be helpful?”

“I agree, but only if we let someone help us with it. We'd be stupid to try it on our
own…”

“My dad and his friends did it.”

“Yes, but they took chances I'm not willing to take.”

“Hermione, are you okay?” Ron asked. “You aren't going batty over our idea…you actually seem
to be agreeing with it, what's gotten into you?” Hermione grinned.

“I'm serious. With the corruption of the ministry, they hardly keep tabs on animagis
anymore. It's not a priority with Voldemort running—oh stop It Ron—with Voldemort running
around.”

“Do you think McGonagall would go for it?” Harry asked.

“As long as we're adults about the situation, I'm sure she'll help us. You should
ask Dumbledore first though, Harry.”

“Yeah. I have a quick occulmancy lesson with him before Herbology, I could ask him then.”

“Good, we'll go with you.”

“Actually. Fred and George asked me to collect all their orders and owl them off today…bloody
prats.”

“We'll meet you in class then, come on Harry.” Hermione drug him out of the Great Hall and
up the stairs to the Headmaster's office, where the large gargoyle stood proudly in front of
the door.

“Peanut Brittle,” Harry said, but the gargoyle would not budge. “Peanut Brittle.” The statue
shook its head. “What? That's the bloody password!”

“Maybe Dumbledore isn't here yet.” He nodded and leaned his back against the cool marble.
She looked at him with a grin. “Even the great Harry Potter can't move boulders once in a
while.”

He blushed, harder than he had ever done so in his life. She was flirting with him, and he felt
as though fairies were fluttering about his chest.

“You can do anything, you know?” He shook his head, looking down at his shoes. “You really
could.”

“So could you.” He looked up at her just in time to see her smile sheepishly. She bit her lip,
looking down like a little girl and scuffed her shoe.

“Haven't we all ready had this conversation,” she said, referring to first year, in the
dungeons with Snape's potion. She had a dreamy look on her face, and when he smiled at her, she
giggled, unable to wipe that stupid grin off her face.

“I'm usually annoyed by students loitering about my office,” Dumbledore said behind them,
making them both jump. He smiled warmly. “But I'll let it slide just this once.” He turned to
the gargoyle and repeated the same words Harry had only this time the gargoyle lept aside, allowing
the three to pass.

“I must apologize, I charmed him into only letting people in when I'm in my office…I'm
sure you remember Professor Umbridge…” Harry smiled at the memory of their toady professor
screaming in her pouty voice to no avail.

“Professor, there's something we need to ask you,” Harry said. Dumbledore turned around with
a glint in his eye.

“I thought you'd never ask.”

~*()*~

Wow, I'm soooooooo sorry for not updating sooner. I tried very hard to write over my
4th of July break…and produced this. I hope you guys like it. I tried to make it a bit
longer to make up for the long wait. Review, please, because they keep me going. :)

Thanks for all my reviewers, you guys keep this story alive. :)

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