The Price of Truth by Airam Ayol

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 09/05/2003
Last Updated: 13/11/2003
Status: Paused

Harry gets into a fight with Hermione over his now ex- girlfriend. Painful accusations, secrets
and pride drive them apart- In the light of a new terror to mankind, can they get past this
misunderstanding and realize what they have is precious and could be more if they tried? AU fic.
Plenty of plot twists ahead. Rating will change in future.




1. Chapter 1
------------

The Price of Truth- Chapter 1

Hermione Granger was sitting in her favorite arm chair by the window in the lounge room, the
evening broadcast of WWN barely a whisper in the background. She was hiding her face behind a book
Harry had recently given her for her birthday with a mug of tea perched on her knee.

With a tiny but startling *pop!*, said best friend was now throwing himself on her couch
across from her. She peered over her book curiously and watched him lay there with an arm draped
over his face. Hermione quietly set her book and tea down on the table and went over to him. Harry
could feel her warm weight sink down next to him on the couch. She began to rub his leg, an unknown
habit of hers to let him know she was there.

"She said she 'just wants to be friends'," he said not needing her to ask in
the first place. He was still covering his eyes with his arm. "I'm ready to drop to my
knees and ask her... And she says she just wants to be friends," he said with a heavy
sigh.

Hermione leaned on his shoulder and hugged him around the waist for comfort. A few moments of
silence passed by until Harry finally brought down his arm and pulled her closer to him. She leaned
back to look at his face and felt her heart instantly shatter. His face was one of pure heartbreak.
His eyes were glossed over and darkened to a deep green. A battle between anger and sadness was
taking place, she could tell. He was beginning to worry her. 'Exactly what did she tell
him?' she thought. Another brief silence.

"What do you think-"

"I don't know," he snapped before she could finish. "I don't know what
could have made her say that all of a sudden."

Hermione did. But she didn't want to say. If he knew just why Bianca Grinwald broke off
their relationship after nearly two years it would kill him- and he'd probably kill Hermione.
*'But he'll have to know sooner or later,'* she thought to herself as Harry rested
his chin atop her head. *'It's best I tell him now. Mentioning it later will be
disaster.'*

"Harry," she said pulling herself out of his arms. She took his hand in hers and
stared into his eyes full of pain, preparing herself for the worst. It was now or never. She took a
deep breath. "I know why Bianca broke up with you." Harry sat up, anxious for her to
continue. "She broke up with you...err..." His eyes bored into hers expectantly.

"Yes?"

"Oh, Harry," she burst, squeazing his hand tighter. "Harry, I told her to end the
relationship. I told her that if she knew what was best to end it now... Before it was too
late."

Harry was dumbstruck. Did he just hear what he thought he did? Did Hermione just say she's
responsible for his heartache?

"I'm so sorry," she whispered letting his hand drop and looked away. "I had
to. I couldn't bare seeing you get hurt even more than you would be now."

Harry stood up, an unreadable expression on his face. She watched as he went to stand at the
window, his back flexing as he crossed his arms. Wordlessly she followed. She watched his
reflection in the window and was too frightened by those eyes to say anything, let alone move.

"Why, Hermione?" he asked, startling her yet again. The pain was obvious in his voice.
She stayed silent, all of a sudden very interested in the cream carpet. Even through the
reflection, she could feel his eyes on her.

"I had to." Her voice was very soft. "I didn't want her to hurt you. Harry,
she's-"

"Mission accomplished, Hermione," he spat. Harry turned around to face her. She dared
to look up at him and instantly regreted it. If looks could kill, she'd be six feet under right
now. "I've finally found the one woman who loves me regardless of who I am. This is the
first time in my life that I have everything and everyone I love around me- And you ruin it all for
me!" She stayed quiet, trying desperately to avoid those intense eyes. It was bad enough that
his words felt as if someone was punching her chest repeatedly. "I thought you were better
than that Hermione."

"But you don't understand," she squeaked. It was too difficult to speak with an
uncomfortably large lump in her throat.

"Oh no, Hermione, I understand completely. You're jealous."

"I'm what?" This was not what she expected. Anger, a feel of betrayal- but not
jealousy!

"Your jealous," he said as if it were obvious. "The best and- unfortunately- the
worst always happens to me. You felt as if Bianca pushed you away from me and you wanted to get
even- Bianca hurt me, but not as bad as a supposed best friend." And with that he
disapparated.

"Way to go, Herm," she said to herself, still watching the spot where he was standing
only moments before. "You try to spare a friend some heartache and he hates you in
return."

------

A/N: Chapter 2 on the way...





2. Chapter 2
------------

Chapter 2-

Harry stalked into his flat and slammed the door behind him hard, making the windows shudder.
Looking around the messy lounge, he was torn between punching holes into the walls or screaming so
loud that he could be heard in South America. He opted instead for going out onto the balcony. It
was dark and cold out but he didn't notice much. The cold was actually welcoming, and helped
him cool off slightly.

*'Who the hell does she think she is?!'* the voice inside his head suddenly snapped
furiously. He never thought he could be this angry with Hermione. It had been quite some time since
they had a harsh fight. *'Why the bloody hell did she do that for? She knows I love Bianca-
Why?!'* Even in his head Harry was baffled beyond words. Sure, Hermione had told him two
years ago that she wasn't very fond of Bianca. But that didn't mean that she had to go and
ruin the best relationship he'd ever had. *'Ron's right,'* he dismally mused,
*'Hermione does have a horrible habit of ruining evrything.'* Lost in his thoughts,
Harry didn't notice the figure now standing inside the flat, watching him with worried
eyes.

"You all right, mate?" asked Ron coming outside. He leaned on the veranda next to
Harry to get a better look at his face. "It looks like you've been through
shitsville."

Harry half-grinned. A first all day.

"You're home early," he replied, desperately hoping to make Ron change the
subject.

"Yeah, well, it was a slow day... Decided to close early." Ron was now the owner of
Quality Quidditch Supplies since the former owner wanted to retire. Ron bought the shop with the
help of his wealthy twin brothers several years ago. "Don't change the subject on me,
Potter."

*'Drat.'*

"What happened?"

Harry turned to sit on the cold veranda. Ron followed suit. He kept his eyes on Harry, patiently
waiting for him to begin. All he did though was let out a heavy sigh.

"I proposed to Bianca," he said. It should be a joyful sentence to say. This was
anything but.

"Congratulations, mate!" said Ron patting Harry on the back. Harry though wasn't
smiling. "She did say yes, didn't she?" Harry gave out a heavy laugh. A lump was
beginning to bother his throat.

"She said she wants to be friends and nothing more."

Ron was left speechless. "I- I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. Not like it's your fault."

"What do you think- Why?!" Ron was absolutley dumbfounded. Harry and Bianca looked
genuinly in love to him! Why after two years would she do this? He asked himself those questions
and many others, trying to figure out how a woman's mind works.

"You know, Hermione asked the same thing- Or at least was about to," said Harry
hunching over and resting his head on his hands.

"Hermione was there?"

"No. I went over to her flat... I don't know what I was thinking, but I thought I could
find a friend there."

"Harry, what are you talking about?" asked Ron confused. Harry shook his head and
hopped off the veranda.

"Nothing. I really don't want to talk about it," he said in an either defeated or
depressed tone- Ron couldn't tell which. "I'll see you in the morning."

Ron watched his best friend drag himself into the lounge. He couldn't help but feel sorry
for Harry. Bianca was wonderful for him and it was strange that she did what she did. But also,
what was the deal with Hermione? Ron heard a door close across the flat. It was Harry's.
*'I guess I'll ask Hermione what happened in the morning,'* he thought heading
inside himself.

---------

Harry rolled over in bed muttering rather grumpily. This was the first time in months that
he'd woken up so early in the morning. He lay there with his view blurred since he wasn't
wearing glasses, wondering why he felt like someone had run him over with the Knight Bus.

*'Oh, right,'* he thought with a furrowed brow. *'Bianca and
Hermione.'*

Harry rolled again to reach his glasses on the nightstand when he heard voices in the lounge. It
sounded as if Ron had female company. He really wasn't in the mood to see anyone this early. It
was probably best to quickly barrell into the kitchen, get his morning tea and come back to his
room before Ron could say 'Good morning.'

As quietly as possible, Harry opened his bedroom door and stepped out into the small, narrow
hallway, tucking his wand into the waistband of his pajama bottoms. He could still hear Ron having
what seemed like a deep conversation with a woman in hushed voices. Ignoring him completely, yet
making sure he wasn't noticed, Harry briskly walked through the back of the lounge without a
glance and into the kitchen. With a flick of his wand the kettle instantly boiled some water while
he rummaged around in a cabinet for the tea bags. Pouring the water, he could still hear Ron and
wondered just how long he'd been talking to that girl. Curiously, yet cautiosly because he was
holding his scorching hot tea, Harry poked his head out through the doorway.

He saw Ron sitting on the floor by the fireplace- Actually, it was more like the top of his
firey red head over the back of the couch. Slowly craning his neck, Harry realized he was the only
one there. 'Who in blazes is he talking to?... Has he gone absolutely starkers?' It was
then that he noticed Ron was facing the fireplace and was hunched over as if listening intently. A
small voice appeared to be coming from inside the fireplace.

Undisturbed, Harry started his quiet walk back to his room when he heard the person in the
fireplace mention his name.

"I need you talk some sense into Harry."

"You know he won't listen to me," replied Ron. "It really is best that he
hears the whole story from you."

"But I told you what happened last night. He's being so difficult!"

Harry turned to see who it was and felt slightly torn. It was Hermione. Immediately he felt the
anger rise up. It felt as if an entire hive of angry bees was buzzing around in his head. He
couldn't think of anything else other than what made him angry about her. But just looking at
her face full of obvious pain and worry, even from a distance, made him feel a little sorry for
exploding on her and saying what he said. That thought was instantly pushed to the back of his
mind.

"Harry!" said Hermione in surprise finally noticing him standing there.

"I'll leave you two to talk," said Ron getting up off the floor.

"No!" they both said in unison. Ron looked oddly at both his friends.

"I was leaving anyway," Hermione said softly. "I'll talk to you later,
Ron."

"Okay."

*Pop!*

"What were you talking to her about?" asked Harry suspiciously.

"You know what we were talking about." They stood across the room from each other.
Apparantly Ron was waiting for realization to dawn on Harry's face, but it never came.
"Last night, you git. We were talking about what happened at her flat last night. You really
should talk to her."

"I'm not talking to her," Harry said defiantly.

"According to Hermione, you never let her explain about Bianca-"

"What is there to explain? She broke up-"

"Harry, stop interrupting! This is a once in a lifetime moment that I'm being more
reasonable than you." Harry kept quiet, a hard look etched on his face. "Talk to
Hermione. Just hear her out for five minutes. Bianca's really not what you think-"

"What are you getting at? What did Hermione tell you about her?" he asked, his temper
rising.

"Everything. And to tell you the truth, it all makes sense now."

"Ron, stop playing mind games with me and say it straight."

"No. It's best you hear it from your other best friend."

Ron had remained calm throughout this whole discussion. But Harry was beginning to get
difficult. Hermione was right. She was going to have a hell of a time trying to explain her actions
to him. Without a word, Harry had turned and stormed into his room. Frustrated, Ron fell onto the
couch. Faint thuds and slams were coming from inside Harry's room, but Ron didn't care in
the least. *'He's probably in there acting like a fucking six year-old slamming his
closet door having a hissy fit.'* It actually was amusing to think of Harry like that. The
smallest of grins tugged at the corners of Ron's mouth. Moments later Harry was stalking past
him.

"Where are you going?" asked Ron watching Harry grab his cloak off the armchair.

"To Bianca's."

"She's not there- Hermione told me she owled her saying she was leaving for
Dublin." Harry's head snapped back to face Ron properly. Before Harry could ask why Bianca
decided to communicate with her instead of him, Ron continued. "Today."

Harry's eyes rounded with astonishment. Not only did she decide to break it off with him,
but she was leaving too?! He couldn't believe it.

*Pop!*

Ron sat there for a moment, looking at the spot where Harry was standing seconds ago. *'If
only he'd listen to Hermione, he wouldn't be acting so childish right now,'* he
thought getting up to make himself some breakfast. He pulled out enough food for two, betting his
Firebolt 4000 (autographed by the whole English National Quidditch Team- a gift from Fred and
George) that Hermione was going to show up wanting some company.

----

Ch. 3 is on the way... Prepare for drama!! *Dramatic music plays in background*





3. Chapter 3
------------

Chapter 3-

Bianca jumped slightly startled by the popping noise that came from the foyer. Curiously, she
went to investigate who it was, hoping against hope that it wasn't who she thought. But it
was...

Harry.

"Dammit," she said in a harsh whisper to herself. She hoped he didn't hear her.
"Harry, what are you doing here?" She brought up her hands to rest on her hips.

"I came to see you," he said obviously. "What's all this about you going back
to Ireland?" Harry watched as Bianca looked away from him. She clutched the blouse she was
holding even tighter, letting that hand fall from her hip.

"I can't tell you."

"Of course you can," he said softly. He walked up to her and slowly put his hands on
her arms. She pulled away instantly. The expression her face made it look as if it were almost
physically painful to be touched by him. Harry frowned, stepping away from her slightly. He
didn't know what was causing his love's pain, but he was determined to fix it.
"Bianca, what's the matter? Tell me, why are you leaving? Did I do something wrong? Was it
because I proposed to you? Was it too soon?"

She couldn't take it anymore. She'd lied about everything for two years and it was about
time that she told him the truth for once. Bianca shook her head, her eyes still looking away. It
hurt just to think about how she was going to say this so much her eyes had begun to sting with
tears.

"No, Harry. It's not that- Well actually it kind of is." A deep sigh. She finally
looked him in the eye but found it very hard to keep contact with those sad green eyes. His heart
twinged as he noticed how red her eyes had gotten. "Harry, I would have gladly married you if
it weren't for..." She couldn't say it. She couldn't! *'Hermione was right
though. I should have told him this earlier. Before we got in too deep.'* Another sigh.
"Harry, I love you. I really do-"

"So then what's the problem?" he asked, almost desperately pleading.

"I love someone else. I've loved him for so long. Longer than I've known you."
There, she said it. And it took everything she had not to run away for her safety.

Harry took a step back. He didn't know whether to be shocked or hurt. He was feeling both at
that moment. But was it possible to feel even worse than after what happened yesterday? From the
looks of it, it was. Still, he had to know.

"Who is it?" he croaked, an incredibly large lump in his throat was making it
difficult to speak. It was the last thing he wanted to know, but it was one question he really
wanted the answer to: *Who the hell stole her away from me?*

Bianca didn't want to answer- But he deserved the whole truth now. She only had an hour
before catching a portkey to Dublin.

"My husband. Greggory."

"Husband?" Whether his voice was actually working or not, he couldn't tell. But
maybe it was since she appeared to have heard him.

"Yes, my husband. I'm sorry I never told you." She watched as Harry's mouth
tried to form some words. "We've been married for eight years," she answered for him,
then continued to explain everything with as little detail as possible. "I lied about getting
a job at the Daily Prophet. I'm really an Auror." Bianca paused for a moment while Harry
sat down on the arm of her couch. He had just lost control of his legs. This was probably a lot for
him to take in, but she wanted to get it all out now or else her courage might ebb away.

"Two years ago I was assigned to a mission that required me to go undercover as a Daily
Prophet reporter. The editor in chief was in very hot water with some surviving death eaters. It
turned out he had refused to join You-Know-Who's army and had been made a target ever
since." An uneasy silence filled the room as Bianca watched Harry's downcast eyes
carefully study a small stain on her carpet.

"A month after I came here I met you," she softly said, her eyes studying the same
spot as his. "I tried over and over on several occassions to tell you I'm married, but I
never could. So then I thought it wouldn't hurt to have a younger fling on the side-" She
saw Harry slightly flinch at those words but pressed on. "And then soon we just became...
more. I don't know why I let us continue the way we did. I regret it now, I really do. Hermione
was right. I should've told you everything at the beginning."

"Hermione knew you're...?" Harry couldn't bring himself to say those words. To
say she's already married.

"She came over one day and saw a letter from Gregory on my kitchen counter. I told her not
to say a word about it. And she told me to let you know. Either that or she'd say something. I
thought she would. Hell, I hoped she'd do it. It would've saved me the
embarrassment."

Harry was still sitting on the arm of the couch trying to grasp at what she'd just told him.
To Bianca, he looked like an idiot with a blank expression on his face. He didn't care if he
was gaping like a fish out of water, or if his eyes were ready to bulge out of his head. All that
he cared about was trying to understand how the most beautiful woman that he'd ever loved could
have betrayed him like this. How could this possibly get any worse?

"Harry," she pleaded dropping down to her knees before him. She carefully placed her
hands on his lap to see if he'd reject her. He sat still, watching. She looked up at his pained
face, her eyes stinging again. "Harry, I'm so sorry. You wouldn't believe how sorry I
am. I love you, but I'm not *in* love with you-"

"Does he know?" Harry asked, his eyes wandering again around her half packed lounge.
His face looked hardened as if torn between anger and sadness again. She eyed him confused.

"Of course not. You think I'd actually tell him?" she said as if it were the most
obvious answer.

"No, of course you wouldn't," he replied lightly. "How stupid of me to
believe you'd tell the truth to someone you supposedly love for once." Harry practically
jumped up, knocking Bianca backwards on her bottom very surprised. She watched as he began to
quickly pace back and forth on the spot. A grimace appeared on his face and his eyes had glossed
over as he looked down at her on the floor. "What the hell were you thinking,
Bianca?!"

"Harry, I said I'm sorry! I never knew it would go this far!"

"No!" he yelled. His breath was becoming heavy as he stopped pacing and glared down at
her. "No- If you loved me like you say you do then you would have told me everything ages
ago!" Bianca stayed quiet, averting his piercing gaze. "You thought it would be fun to
have a fling?! You thought cheating on your husband with *the* Harry Potter was going to put
that spark back in your love life?!"

"Harry-"

"No! Don't- Don't say anything. I'm beginning to realize that two of the best
years I've ever had were nothing but a lie. I'm realizing now that the woman who I thought
I was madly in love with only thinks of me as some cheap sex toy."

"Harry, I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

It was true what people said about the power Harry could emit with just one look. At this point
Bianca was terrified of what he could do to her. Yes, she was an Auror, but no one's ever felt
the wrath of the wizarding world's savior, save for one person: Lord Voldemort. And he's
dead. Harry nor Bianca had moved all this time. She was too scared and ashamed. He was too
furious.

"Saying you're sorry isn't going to fix what you've done to me."

"I know," she muttered softly. Bianca was still avoiding his eyes but she could hear
him make his way to the door. She heard his footsteps stop, then heard his voice.

"I hope your husband loves you enough to forgive you." Bianca couldn't help but
glance up at him, albeit for the last time. "Because I sure as hell can't." Her brow
furrowed at what he'd just said. "Don't worry, Bianca. I won't be around to
embarrass you anymore."

As soon as the door closed behind him, Bianca threw her now wrinkled blouse she had been
clutching at the door.

------

Sorry I took so long posting this one up. As always, please review!!

Ch.4 coming soon- Attempted apologies, more fights, extreme pride and someone's getting
jealous! Also, have we seen the last of Bianca or not??? Check back soon to find out!!





4. A Quick Author's Note
------------------------

**A Quick Author's Note...**

Hiya! It's Airam and I just wanted to say that I'm unbelievably surprised at how many
reviews I've gotten!! Thank you so much for your replies! I've gotten so many that my
mailbox is getting full!! *blushes* Yeah, yeah... you win. I'll see how fast I can post
ch.4.

Thanks again and keep those reviews coming!! The more encouraged I am, the faster I'll
write!!

Butterbeer and broomsticks to all,

*Airam*





5. Chapter 4
------------


Chapter 4-

"So he went to see Bianca?" asked Hermione in a discouraged tone. She kept running a
finger around the rim of her chipped mug. He nodded, looking down at his as well. A brief silence.
"It's all my fault," she said softly. His head snapped up in surprise to look at
her.

"Why's that?"

"As his best friend- Err, one of his best friends," she corrected herself, catching
his menacing look. "I should have said something about her."

"Don't blame yourself, Hermione. This was never your fault to begin with."

Hermione lifted her eyes to look into his. A slow smile crept onto her face as she reached
across the scrubbed wooden table and placed a hand over his. He grinned back.

"Ron, you're a great friend, you know that?"

"I've been told once or twice yeah," Ron replied, his grin turning slightly cocky.
She slapped his hand lightly while laughing.

"You're such a prat."

"Ah, so you can smile. That's good to know." Hermione quickly looked back down at
her mug, still smiling. Ron continued to chuckle while she drained the last of her tea. "What,
you're leaving already?" he asked, watching her stand up. She quickly set her mug in the
sink behind Ron and made her way out into the lounge to get her cloak.

"You said he left over a half hour ago. I should leave before he comes back."

"No, you should stay. You and Harry need to talk."

"I have nothing to say to him if he refuses to talk to me and continues to say I'm
jealous."

Ron stopped stood up and came behind her as she slipped on her cloak. He put a hand on her
shoulder and turned her around so she was facing him. She looked up at him, her head tilted one
side as she wearily waited for him to speak. She knew a lecture was coming. One always did when he
detected something was up between his two best friends. *'Funny,'* she thought,
*'seems like he's the one who gives advice and lectures these days.'*

"Herm-"

"Don't call me that."

"Stay. Look, if he's not back in ten minutes then you can go." Her expression
didn't change. "Okay, five," sighed Ron giving in very frustrated. "If he's
not here in five minutes, I won't force you to speak to him until you bloody well feel like
it." Without a word and her cloak still on for when she's ready to leave, Hermione stepped
away from Ron and went outside to the balcony. Ron watched her close the glass door.
"You've got three minutes, Harry, or I'll hex you into yesteryear."

-----

Unbeknownst to Ron or Hermione, Harry was currently pacing around in circles outside the front
door to the flat. His mind was too jumbled up with all Bianca had told him that he couldn't
think straight.

He loved her. He *loved* her! And she knew it! His mind couldn't comprehend how someone
could use a person the way she used him. From the beginning he'd drop whatever he was doing and
go to her. He'd find any means possible to simply spend five minutes with her. When the time
came over a year ago, he wholeheartedly gave her his body along with all his love, passion and
soul, thinking that she was it for him. But all this time she had already committed to someone
else. She had already given herself to another man and was using Harry as if he were nothing more
than some quick distraction.

This was killing him.

When she'd said those words, he felt as if he'd fallen well over fifty feet from a
broomstick and survived with only the wind completely knocked out of him. All those times they were
alone and quiet together. All those times they sat or lay in bed with the perfect opportunity to
speak right there. *'My husband...'* Those two words kept bouncing around in his head,
making it ache more every time he heard them. A sudden thought burst into his mind at that
moment.

*'Hermione knew. She knew everything about Bianca- And she never told me!'*

The sadness he had been feeling was quickly turned into sour disappointment, anger, confusion
and disbelief. The only other woman he confided anything and everything in kept this from him. He
couldn't understand how Hermione could do that, knowing fully well that one day he'd
discover the truth.

His brain kept yelling at him to hate her. But he couldn't. No matter what happened between
him and Hermione, he could never hate her. Be disappointed in her, yes. But he could never hate
her. Because right now he was too busy loathing Bianca.

"I have nothing to say to him if he refuses to talk to me and continues to say I'm
jealous," came a soft yet strong voice from the other side of the door. It was Hermione. Harry
stopped his pacing and leaned closer to the door, knowing that she and Ron were talking about
him.

"Herm-"

"Don't call me that."

"Stay. Look, if he's not back in ten minutes then you can go." There was silence
and Harry could hear Ron's sigh of frustration. "Okay, five. If he's not here in five
minutes, I won't force you to speak to him until you bloody well feel like it." Again
silence until he heard footsteps fading away.

Harry stood there torn between whether storming in and apologizing to her until his voice was
gone or staying where he was until the five minutes were up. "You've got three minutes,
Harry," he heard Ron say. Harry jumped trying to figure out how Ron knew he was there.
"Or I'll hex you into yesteryear." He didn't. It sounded as if Ron was talking to
himself. Unfortunately Harry listened to him and took a deep, calming breath before opening the
door.

Ron turned to look at him. Harry's eyes told him all he needed to know. "Sorry,
mate," was all Ron could say. Harry nodded and slightly cranned his neck around Ron to catch a
glimpse of Hermione out on the balcony.

"I should get this over with, shouldn't I?" asked Harry already aware of what the
answer was. Ron nodded and turned to look at Hermione as well. Harry turned back to him.
"Listen, Ron. I'm really sorry for blowing up on you like that earlier. It's just
that-"

Ron put a hand a protest. "No need to explain. I don't blame you for acting the way you
did. I just think you should have heard Hermione out before saying what you did to her."
Harry's head drooped in defeat.

"I'm such a prat," Harry muttered to himself.

"Well, you're gonna be a bigger one if you don't go out there and talk to
her," replied Ron. "She's getting ready to Apparate."

Harry's head snapped up and he watched as Hermione pulled out her wand. Without a second
thought of what he was going to do or say to her, he raced to the glass door and slowly opened it.
Upon hearing the door open, Hermione's wand hand froze in mid air. She didn't need to turn
to know who it was. Instead she tucked her wand back in her cloak pocket.

"You saw her?" she asked still looking out at a part of Diagon Alley.

"Yeah." Hermione could hear him walking up behind her. She sensed him attempting to
put a hand on her shoulder but couldn't bring himself to do it. He only sighed and went to lean
beside her on the veranda. "Look, Hermione... I'm..." He didn't know how to say
nor explain anything to her.

"You're what?" she asked somewhat irritated purposely turning away so he
couldn't see her face.

"I'm sorry- About all that stuff I said about you being jealous." Harry cautiously
turned to look at her. He instantly felt a pang of guilt knowing that he was the one that caused
the hurt visible in those brown eyes. "I should have listened to you instead of trying to bite
your head off like that."

"Yes, you should have," she said now more sternly while looking at him. Tears were
threatening to spill from her eyes but she held them back defiantly as she straightened up.
"Harry, you really hurt me. I was only looking out for you and didn't want to see you get
hurt even more-"

"So your way of protecting me is by keeping the fact that the woman I loved was using me.
Hermione, you were with me when I bought the ring and you couldn't tell me then?!"

They were both yelling at each other now. Several people down on the street curiously looked up
to watch the spectacle. Hermione looked away from him, a tear overpowering her will and streaming
down her cheek. "No, don't you dare start crying!" That statement let another tear
slip out, followed by a few more. Even though Harry was very angry again, he couldn't help but
calm down at the sight of her tears. He hated it when she cried. It made him feel as if he should
climb up to the Gringotts roof and jump off. The anger subsided as he reached out and pulled
Hermione into his arms. "Shh... I'm sorry. Stop crying..."

"No!" she yelled angry, pulling herself out of his arms. "Don't touch
me." Harry kept silent as he watched more tears form in her enraged eyes. "I don't
know why I never told you. I came very close on several occasions but couldn't do it. I knew
you were going to act something like this. I didn't want you to hate me like you do now because
I've..." The words painfully lodged themselves in her throat.

"Because you what?" he asked rather softly, worried of what she might say.

"Because I- I've..." She tried to gulp down the lump to no avail. "I've
gotta go!"

Hermione spun on her heels and made for the door, when Harry reached out and grabbed her arm.
She quickly looked back at him and saw a look on his face she'd only seen the night before.
Grief and sincerity.

"Don't go," he said with pleading eyes.

"Why?" she asked ready to jerk her arm away from him and disapparate. If he was going
to say anything about how much he still loves Bianca, she was out of there.

"Because I haven't been completely honest with you." Hermione curiously watched
him, waiting for him to continue. "There's no excuse for why I treated you how I did.
There's only a reason."

______________________________________

**A/N: Cliffhanger!! Muahahaha!! This is the only thing I could think of to keep you wanting to
read more. Just what's Harry's reason for treating our precious Hermione like crap??? Wait
and see.






6. Chapter 5
------------


**A/N: I've read each and every single review and I love you guys for it! Thanks very much.
I had a long Memorial Day weekend away from home and my story, so sorry for the delay.

Esther, you're very right. I should make my chapters longer. So from now on, although it
might take longer to post, I'll try to write more. Well, enjoy!

_________________________________________________________

Chapter 5-

"Well?" Hermione asked somewhat impatiently a few moments after Harry grew silent. He
just stood there with a wide-eyed frozen expression on his face while still clinging to her arm.
"What's your reason for making me feel as if I'm the vilest thing on earth you've
ever come in contact with?"

"I never said that," Harry said, his brow furrowing at the very thought. He
couldn't imagine how she ever got such an idea in her head. *'She's never been one to
jumped to conclusions,'* he thought.

"You didn't have to."

Now where had Harry heard that before? It wasn't even an hour ago that he'd said those
very words to Bianca. Harry sucked in a breath and pulled Hermione back towards the veranda.

"Hermione, I'm sorry about all that's happened and what I've said to you. But
you've got to understand that I only said what I did because of my..." He trailed off
again.

"You�re what, Harry?" she asked exasperatedly. "Tell me."

"Because of my being- Hermione, I'm blind." Harry watched her face crumple in
absolute confusion.

"What?"

"I'm blind. I never saw what was right in front of me and the only way I could respond
to you was by blaming everything that went wrong on you." He noticed a small spark slowly
appear in her eyes. He grew slightly confused as to why he'd never noticed the small light
playing in her eyes before and why his heart gave a weird jerk to the sight of it. But he pressed
on leaving that question for him to answer later. "You know how I am, Herm. I deny
everything." A smile tugged at Hermione's lips at those words.

"I know," she said softly. Her spirits slowly rose as she secretly wished he'd
hurry up and say what she'd been feeling for so long.

"But I can't deny this any longer. I was an idiot for loving Bianca. I always turned
away from the obvious." Harry finally let go off her arm and looked away to the street down
below, completely unaware of the smile on Hermione's face. "I can't remember how many
times I'd ignore or push aside anything that made me suspicious of her."

This wasn't exactly what Hermione was waiting for him to say. *'Wait for it,'*
she told herself patiently.

"I trusted her," he continued leaning on the veranda. "I looked away because I
thought she'd never do anything to hurt me like that... All the unexpected owls, the odd
bouquet of flowers she'd receive every few weeks... I was too stupid and in love to say
anything." Harry turned back to look at Hermione who was still standing there with her eyes
shining oddly. Again his heart jerked but he thought nothing of it only that it must be from what
he's about to say. "Then right now when I was outside and overheard you and Ron talking,
it hit me."

Harry went back to her and took her hands in his. Hermione's breathing couldn't help but
quicken. She scolded herself mentally over and over that she should calm down. She told herself to
keep her head. He'd held her hands innumerable times before. Why should this feel any
different?

�Hermione, I realized that because of my being so self-absorbed these days and moping around
over Bianca I almost lost you. I almost lost your trust, your kindness, your friendship... I almost
lost your love." For the first time in quite a long time, Harry allowed himself to smile at
the feeling of Hermione's hands squeezing his. "Hermione, I love you. I don't know how
I would ever be able to live with myself, knowing that I hurt you and ruined one of the most
precious friendships I've ever had besides Ron's. You'll never in a million years
realize exactly how much you mean to me. I would have gladly given up my relationship with Bianca
if being with her meant that I'd lose you. You're my best friend- my sister and I can't
imagine my life without you in it."

"Hey, Harry," said Ron coming out onto the balcony. "Sorry if I'm
interrupting something but you just got an owl from Sirius. Says he wants your reply immediately.
Sounds pretty urgent."

"Sure. I'll be right there." Harry watched Ron nod and close the glass door. He
turned back to Hermione and was shocked to see how much her face had fallen. It was as if she got
word that someone dear to her just died. "Herm? You okay?" She looked up at his worried
face, the odd little shine long gone from her eyes.

"Y- yeah. I'm fine. W- why?" Her eyes were beginning to mist over, but she fought
it off and gave him a convincing forced smile.

"You looked as if I said something horrible. You sure you're okay?"

"Never better," she replied a little quicker and louder than usual. She pulled her
hands away from him and wrapped them around herself. "So does that mean we're done
fighting?" she asked, hoping it sounded lighthearted. Harry smiled.

"For now." He swiftly wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She stiffened at the feel
and sound of him letting out a long held breath. The feel of it made her a bit light headed but she
fought it as hard as she could. Harry rocked her lightly in his arms. He couldn't help but
notice the light flowery scent of her hair. He smiled into it, glad that he had his best friend
back how they were meant to be.

"Okay," she said suddenly pushing away from him, her voice louder than usual again. It
wasn't easy to play casual. "Shouldn't you go in and see what Sirius wants?"

"Oh, I already know what this is all about," he replied, a light smile on his face.
"But yeah, I should go give him my reply." Harry began to walk back towards the door when
he turned back to her. "Hermione?"

"Yes?" Harry's smile grew larger just by looking at her.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Harry," she said, faking another smile.

Hermione watched as Harry went back into the lounge, closing the glass door behind him. She let
out a shaky breath she didn't know she'd been holding and turned to look back at Diagon
Alley down below covered in the warm afternoon sunlight.

"I love you, too, Harry," she said again in a soft voice full of hurt. "I love
you more than life itself... More than you'll ever know."

----------------

"Ron, where's the letter?" asked Harry while shifting through that morning's
owl post. Ron hopped off his stool and pulled out a think envelope from the pile Harry was digging
through. Harry thanked him and went to sit on a stool across from Ron.

*Harry,*

*I know that I've pressed the issue on several previous occasions and you've refused
time and time again. But I hope this final attempt isn't futile and that you do agree to join
us. Son, I'm not demanding you as your godfather but asking you as a friend and colleague, as
an aid to the well being of the wizarding world; come to Dublin. We need all the help we can get in
dealing with this murder spree. I know you haven't wanted anything to do with dark wizards
since Voldemort, but we need you now. We can't allow history to repeat itself. I await you
acceptance reply by this evening.*

*Sirius*

He wasn't expecting a reply from Harry accepting or declining. It was an indirect order to
go.

"Yes, father," Harry said to himself half-amused at the letter. Ron eyed him
curiously.

"What does old Snuffles want?" Harry half waved the letter at Ron.

"To join the ranks against evil once again."

"Harry, mate, you should seriously consider making copies of those 'I'm sorry,
Sirius, but I can't' letters. It'll save you loads of time." Harry chuckled.
"But then again," continued Ron taking the letter from Harry. "I don't see why
Sirius even bothers asking again in the first place."

"He didn't ask. This was practically a command," replied Harry taking the letter
back. "I should write back telling him I'll be at his place tonight-"

"You're joking!" said Ron in amazement. His blue eyes were threatening to pop out
of his head. "But you've always said that the Neo-Morts weren't your problem! No
matter how much Herm and I have tried to convince you otherwise, you've always said no. I bet
Hermione will start believing divine interventions aren't a load of codswallop after this
miracle... Speaking of which," Ron trailed off, twisting about on his stool and looking around
the flat, "Where *is* Hermione?"

"Still outside, I'm guessing," said Harry now looking for a quill and clean
parchment in the pile of papers.

Unbeknownst to Harry, Ron silently watched Hermione on the balcony as she swiped away furiously
at some stray tears. She turned to meet his eyes and gave him a reassuring smile that she was all
right before disapparating. He then turned back to Harry who was beginning his letter to
Sirius.

"She apparated home," said Ron as if answering a question for Harry. He merely nodded
not looking up from his writing.

They stayed silent for a few moments, the scratching of Harry's quill being the only noise
in the small kitchen. Ron was curious as to why Hermione had just been crying and knew it had
something to do with his other best friend. Harry on the other hand seemed pretty oblivious to
everything at the moment. Otherwise, he would have been the one interrogating her wanting to know
why she was so upset. Ron knew perfectly well that what Harry and Hermione discussed out there
wasn't any of his business. He knew there was something going on between them. But these were
his best friends and when one was hurt, it was his job to find out why and fix it. But Harry was
very delicate to talk to when it came to private matters of the heart. Ron knew that and had to
devise of a way to squeeze in the subject carefully.

"Hey, Harry, what's going on with you and Hermione?" Harry looked up from his
letter and gave Ron a blank look. *'Rocky start,'* said Ron's mind.

"What do you mean what's going on? You mean what happened out there?"

"Yeah, that's it," said Ron trying to smoothen out his mistake.

"I just apologized for being the self-absorbed prick I was earlier." Harry set down
his quill and folded up the letter. "Did you think we were plotting something against
you?" he laughed. He watched Ron's eyes dart around the counter. A grin slowly crept onto
Harry's face. "Don't tell me you and Herm are..."

"No! No, it's not that," said Ron catching on. Harry began to laugh as he screwed
the cap on his inkbottle. "I'm sure you remember the sixth year fiasco. We were very wrong
together."

Harry continued to laugh but soon stopped because of the threatening look on Ron's face.
Harry reached over to the other side of the counter and plucked out an apple from the basket. He
then watched Ron attentively as he bit off a large chunk of the red fruit.

"So why do you ask?" wondered Harry, his mouth half full. Ron hesitated for a moment,
thinking that it was in fact a bad idea to get on the subject of such emotional things. He was
never one for these kinds of talks anyway. Harry continued to look at him, waiting for an
explanation.

"I saw Hermione crying out on the balcony right before she left," he blurted. Harry
stopped in the middle of biting off another piece of apple and looked at his friend. "I
mean... err..." Ron was absolutely tongue-tied and couldn't think of a way to cover that
blunder up. *'Nice on, Weasel,'* scolded his mind which sounded oddly like Malfoy.

"Is she okay?" asked Harry a tinge of worry in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm sure she's fine. You know Hermione. Incredibly stubborn, always the
tough one, not letting anything get in her way- especially when it comes to a nice, big, boring
book." Harry nodded as Ron suppressed a chuckle. Harry stood up and tossed the rest of his
apple in the trash.

"I'm going to send Sirius's letter off and pack."

Ron remained on his stool, ruffling and ruining the end of Harry's hawk feathered quill. he
didn't want to attempt another conversation with Harry. He knew he'd eventually see the
light about their favorite girl.

----------

Harry had just sent off his good old faithful snowy owl, Hedwig, with his reply to Sirius,
saying he'd meet him at the Splintered Wand. He was now packing a suitcase, thinking of what
dangers these Neo-Morts were planning on putting him through. The Neo-Morts were a recently new
threat to both the wizarding and muggle worlds. Although not as orderly as Voldemort in deciding
who were their enemies, Neo-Morts killed at random those who didn't appeal to them. They were
pointless killings done by worthless people. They believed that Voldemort was a god and that all
they did was his bidding. Either way, too many people were being lost due to these surprise attacks
and they had to be stopped. This was Harry's battle. He was just too tired of the previous
fighting to admit it.

His last robe packed in place, Harry turned to look out the window at the beautiful late
afternoon ready to fade away in the sunset. Standing there, watching the last golden rays turn to
shades of orange and deep red, he remembered something or rather someone from earlier that
afternoon. Hermione. Looking at the golden light, he found himself closing his eyes and seeing her
warm brown eyes. He remembered how they were kindled with this unexplainable spark that made his
heart thump so hard against his chest, he felt as if it were about to explode. Every time he'd
look at her, he was left breathless. That's why he always looked away. She was too much for him
to take. She was too wonderful for him.

Harry's eyes snapped open at those thoughts. Since when had he felt that way around
Hermione? Since when did he want nothing more than to hold her close as he did earlier and keep his
nose buried in her sweet, soft brown locks? Harry shook his head wildly. This was not happening. He
was not thinking of his best friend in that way!

*'It was just a slip up,'* he thought going back to shut his suitcase.
*'It's bound to happen to a man who's been best friends with a woman for
years.'*

Harry picked up his suitcase and went back to the kitchen to say goodbye to Ron. Walking in, he
found a note from Ron.

*Went to the shop. Someone accidentally dropped a crate of new bludgers and are now tearing
the place apart. Good luck with the Neo-Morts. You know I'd go with you but give them a good
kick in the arse for me anyway. Give my best to old Snuffles. Come back to us in one piece.*

*-Ron*

Harry smiled at the letter and dropped it back on the counter. It was now eight o'clock,
according to the only functioning clock they had by the doorway into the lounge. Harry went over to
the large window in the lounge and watched as the final deep purple and reds of daylight began to
fade. He had one quick stop to make before heading to Dublin. He just hoped it wouldn't be that
quick.

------------

Harry apparated into the dark room and found Hermione asleep in her favorite armchair. He
quietly set down his suitcase and tiptoed over to her. Again, Harry was left breathless as he
watched her steady breathing that made her chest rise and fall, her long hair had fallen over part
of her face. He reached down and slipped a lock behind her ear. She half muttered something in her
sleep and turned her head, making his chest tighten. *'You're slipping again,
Potter,'* warned his mind. Harry pulled himself together and nudged Hermione. She sighed
heavily once or twice, but he kept on nudging her arm, trying to wake her up.

"Mm... Harry?" she mumbled, her eyes half opened. She sat up in her chair and
stretched her arms over her head, yawning. "What're you doing here?"

"I came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" She was wide awake now and stared at him, startled and confused. "Why
goodbye? Where are you going?"

"To Sirius' in Dublin."

Hermione immediately knew what this was all about. Harry was finally going to help with the
Neo-Mort murders. Finally, after all this time, he was going. But why all of a sudden? Just two
weeks ago they had gotten into a discussion that he didn't want anything to do with them. Was
it the incident with Bianca that provoked the sudden change of heart? She couldn't help but
think that was part of the reason.

"When are we leaving?" she asked, keeping those questioning thoughts in mind.

"Tonight. I just wanted to- Hang on. *'We?'*" His voice oddly enough was
back to sounding like the little boy he was during his Hogwarts years.

"Yes, *'we'*," she replied as if it were only the most normal thing.
"I'm going with you. Don't think you can just leave me here."

"No, you're staying here."

"And whom exactly do you think you are to tell me where I can and cannot go?" she
snapped very wide awake and furious. She stood up as if trying to level with him but he was still
half a foot taller than she was. It didn't matter to Harry though. She was as intimidating as
ever, but he held his ground. "You are not my father."

"No, but I'm your best friend who's trying to protect you!-"

"And as my best friend, you should know that I'm perfectly fine taking care of myself
and I choose to be there with you when you're in danger because I love you!" They silently
stared at each other, knowing fully well that the other person wasn't about to give up.

"I knew this was going to happen," Harry mumbled finally looking away from her.
"I knew you were going to want to come. But you've got to understand that I won't rest
easy knowing you're putting yourself in harm's way for me."

Hermione stayed silent, her arms crossed at her chest. She wasn't happy with this. She
wanted to be there with him through and through. She hated it when he pushed her away like
this.

"It's not fair," she pouted. "You can't go and leave me here. I won't
be able to rest knowing you're in harms way."

"But weren't you the one who kept telling me to go?" he asked, failing in trying
to bring a smile to her face by making her eat her own words.

"Only if I was going to be there beside you. We've fought together before, Harry. I
don't see why this time is any different."

Harry closed the unknown gap between them and held her in his arms. Again he felt the world
spinning around him and he couldn't think of anywhere more safe and comfortable than there with
Hermione in his arms. She clung to him as if he were her life and her mind was going a million
miles a second, trying to figure out how she could either make him stay or go with him. But he was
as stubborn as she was. She never knew whether to love him or hate him for that- Right now she
hated it. Harry put his hands on her arms and pulled her away from him.

"I won't be long," he said letting go of her. "I'm sure I'll be home
by the end of next week. Don't worry about me."

"It's kind of hard not to," she said trying to sound light hearted but failing.
Harry hugged her one more time, placing a kiss in her hair then picked up his suitcase. Tears were
threatening to erupt from Hermione's eyes but she didn't care. All that she could think of
was that Harry was once again putting his life on the line. "Harry- Wait!" She went up to
him and cupped his face in her hands. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Herm. You're my best friend-"

"No. I mean *I love you*, Harry." She pulled him down to her and lightly brushed
her lips against his. "I'm in love with you... have been for a while now."

Harry was quiet but she couldn't tell by his face whether it was from shock or fear... Maybe
it was both. His lips remained parted and breathed lightly as his eyes bore into her own,
disbelieving. Suddenly, before she knew it, he was kissing her. It began as a quick, chaste kiss,
as if he were testing the waters. He opened his eyes to find Hermione's cheeks beginning to
flush, her eyes were still closed and her mouth was slightly opened, ready to be devoured by him.
He held nothing back, dropping his suitcase with a thud and pulling her up against his body. Her
arms flew around his neck and she began to run her hands through his raven hair, scraping slightly
at his scalp and earning herself a moan. His mouth and tongue were doing unbelievable things to her
that made her give out a small whimper now and then.

In the back of his mind, a voice was screaming at the top of its lungs to stop now. But all his
common sense had been thrown out the window the moment Hermione kissed him. This was too amazing
and Harry didn't want to stop kissing her for anything. He would be asking himself countless
questions about why he was snogging his best friend- But as was said before, all common sense was
gone, making more room for instinct.

A similar event was going on in Hermione's mind at that moment. A voice began to screech at
her that she was ruining one of the best friendships she'd ever had. Her always there in case
of emergency rational thinking had diminished the moment she felt Harry's tongue dance with
hers in her mouth.

After several minutes, which felt like mere seconds to both, they pulled apart panting for some
much needed air. Harry stepped away from her, his eyes large with surprise, his lips swollen with
her kisses as that damn common sense came barreling in once more.

"I- I'm sorry," he stuttered picking up the suitcase once more. "That was
stupid of me. Bye, Hermione."

"Harry-"

But he was already gone.






7. Chapter 6
------------


Chapter 6-

A/N: Yeah, I know I took forever, but I've been reading and rereading *Order of The
Phoenix* all this time. Also laziness was at its peak. *guilty grin* I hope you all have read
the book by now and realize that my fic will now be a very AU one. I'll have to force myself to
forgive J.K. for killing off one of my favorite characters but it still hurts.

Anyway, thank you all for your reviews and opinions. They've been great and I'm very
amused that you all want to read more. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

No Harry/Hermione action, but some very naughty thoughts on behalf of one of them.

----------

Harry nearly splinched himself after attempting to apparate to Horizont Alley in Dublin.
He'd been there countless times before, but this time his mind had obviously been
elsewhere.

Evenings in Horizont Alley weren't always the same. Usually it was bursting with young boys
playing in the streets, several arrays of witches chatting it up in the robe and bookshops and the
local pub doing brisk business. Other nights, such as during a bitter winter, the street was a snow
covered ghost town or winter wonderland near Christmas. However, this night was surprisingly slow,
being that two murders had just occurred earlier in the day and the town's people were
terrified. Most shops were closed and the pub was doing small business.

Pulling himself together and getting his mind off Hermione for the first time since he left her
flat, Harry made his way up the steps into the Splintered Wand. A gust of wind blew across his
face, making his hood fall back. Looking down, he noticed that a Daily Prophet front page was
clinging to his leg. Pulling it off, he read the headline. Two Wizards Murdered! Neo-Morts To
Blame. The door suddenly burst open and he was shoved aside by two large, burly, drunk wizards. He
watched as they stumbled down the steps, their arms heavily draped around each other, singing (or
rather yelling) out a vulgar song that echoed in the empty street. Another wizard, an older looking
and rather short one, came out after them, a black, stained apron wrapped around his bulging
middle. Harry suspected the man might be a few inches taller than his little old Charms teacher,
Professor Flitwick. He stood there and watched the other two sway and stumble down the cobblestone
road.

"Away with ya!" he shouted standing at the door in a thick Irish accent. "And
don't ya be comin back tomorrow!"

The two men rounded a corner but their yelling could still be heard. The short man laughed to
himself and turned to go back in. "Ay, damn elephants," he muttered to himself. He then
noticed Harry standing beside him. The short man craned his neck back to look at Harry properly
when he spotted the ever-famous scar. His beady black eyes rounded in surprise as he stood there
almost gaping. Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He tried to casually flatten his bangs
over his forehead, a very old habit of his since Hogwarts. He was about to leave, but the man came
to his senses. He shook his head quickly as if clearing it of some thoughts, then stepped inside,
beckoning Harry to follow him.

Harry followed the man closely through the dark and smoky pub, all the while keeping his eyes
forward. He'd experienced just about enough in there before to know when and when not to look
around. On occasion the place got a bit rowdy. Three wizards were scattered at the bar. One, Harry
noticed, was completely swallowed in a shabby, black cloak, nursing a rather large tankard of ale.
They walked past a towering wizard who appeared to have had two pints too many, was threatening a
group in a corner. That part of the pub had gone quiet listening to his slurred trash talking.

As soon as they had gone through another doorway into a private parlor room, Harry could hear
the fight beginning to break out. "He's over there," said the short man and quickly
dodged out of the parlor and back to the scene. Harry closed the door and turned to see his
godfather sitting in a large, leather armchair by a roaring fire. Sirius hadn't changed much,
the only difference being that he was now sprouting white hairs, wrinkles were slowly creeping up
on his handsome, framed face and he ate regularly, unlike his fugitive years. His salt and pepper
like head turned slightly to look at Harry. He couldn't see a smile on Sirius' face nor a
look a severity. Harry dropped his suitcase beside the door and went to join his godfather. Once
sitting down, he noticed that Sirius was smiling lightly, obviously glad to see his godson once
again.

"Good to see you again, Harry," said Sirius, setting down his pint. "Although I
do wish it were under better circumstances."

"I know what you mean," Harry replied glancing about the room. "Where are the
others?"

"I asked to come alone."

The door opened and Harry watched a witch come in balancing a tray of both empty and full pints.
She came up to them and set down a mug in front of Harry with a wink. Sirius watched over the rim
of his as Harry tried to ignore her strides back to the door. Harry took a quick swig from his pint
and eyed Sirius expectantly.

"All right, I finally came. Should we get down to business?"

Sirius nodded, setting down his pint and sliding a thick folder Harry didn't notice before
across the table to him. Harry picked it up and examined the contents inside. There were reports of
the two murders earlier in the day and profiles of suspected Neo-Morts.

"Carl MacNair," said Sirius, watching as Harry flipped to MacNair's profile.
"I'm sure you remember his uncle-"

"How could I forget?" Harry mumbled, reading the report.

"Four witches saw him walking away from the scene today, the first sighting of him in over
five months. His house has been abandoned and of course, all known relatives are dead."

"Who did he kill, exactly?"

"Muggle-borns. A medi-wizard and nurse. They were coming out of the hospital for a break
when MacNair and another Neo-Mort came out of nowhere and used unforgivables on them
both."

Neo-Morts were infamously known for killing people at random. It didn't matter whether you
were the Minister of Magic himself or a dish scrubber at the Leaky Cauldron. If you weren't a
pure blood and evil, you were dead.

"So what you're getting at is that you want me to track him down." It wasn't a
question. He already suspected his assignment the moment he read Sirius' letter.

"We suspect that when you find MacNair, you'll find Neo-Mort headquarters. He's
rumored to be one of the leading wizards." Harry nodded he understood. Sirius stayed silent
for a moment as Harry reached out for his pint and took another swig.

"Any ideas where I might find him?" asked Harry setting down his pint and papers.
Sirius pulled out a small piece of parchment and handed it to him.

"One of the witches at the scene saw him drop this." Harry opened the note to find an
address in neat, cursive writing. "A small residential neighborhood in muggle
Dublin."

"Why would he have a muggle address?"

"It could be either of two things. Neo-Morts could be hiding there or it's the next
stop on their hit list."

They continued discussing auror progress on the case, possible leads and suspects for hours. A
clock somewhere in the parlor chimed one. Sirius slowly stood up, his cane in hand, followed by
Harry.

"It's late. You need your rest," he said coming around the table to Harry.
"Report back to headquarters when you have any new information. Be careful and don't do
anything rash."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "Of course."

They embraced in a quick hug. Sirius stepped back, ready to apparate.

"You're to stay here. I've already reserved a room for you. Use your
alias."

*Pop!*

Harry went back to the door and opened it to find the pub in order and empty except for two
wizards at the bar. Surprised, he picked up his suitcase and went over to the little man behind the
bar.

"Excuse me, do you have a room for James Black?" The little man looked up and again
was in awe of Harry. He cleared his throat and shook his head fervently as if trying to get some
thoughts out of his head.

"Of course Mister... err... Black. Just a moment."

He hopped off the box he was standing on. Harry leaned over the bar to see the top of his head
as he clinked around looking for keys. The man then came out around the bar and motioned for Harry
to follow him. When arriving in front of room eleven on the second floor, the man handed Harry the
key.

"If you need anything, just ask. The name's George."

"Thank you," said Harry.

He watched George go back down the stairs then unlocked the door. 'If I didn't know any
better, I would have thought old George is a leprechaun,' Harry thought to himself as he
stepped inside.

Harry looked around the comfortable room, finding a queen sized bed, a desk beside him and a
door half opened on the other side that led into the bathroom. He tossed his suitcase beside the
desk chair and made his way over the window. Horizont Alley lay down below, very cold and quiet.
Harry moved away from the window and threw himself down on the bed. Only bothering to kick off his
shoes and remove his glasses, he drifted off to sleep almost immediately, his face half smothered
by the pillow.

------

Harry awoke with a start early the following morning. While taking a shower, his mind went back
trying to recall the dream he had been having. He expected it would be of Death Eaters, rattling,
cold breaths and scabby, gray hands. But instead as he lathered his arm with soap and made his way
up to his shoulder, he realized he had in fact dreamt of warm, brown eyes and soft, curling hair
flecked with gold. He remembered delicious, soft, pink lips and hands that could scorch his skin
with the slightest touch.

*'How could one damn kiss make me think about her this way?'* he asked himself, his
eyelids being patted by streams of water. The inside of his eyelids still burned with flashes of
skin and sheets. *'She's Hermione! My Hermione! I can't think of her this way.
I've never thought of her like this. She's my best friend, the only woman whom I can
confide in. I can't risk losing over ten years of valuable friendship over these feverish
fantasies. . . But I've never felt a kiss like that ever before though.'*

His senses came alive as he could practically hear the rustling of bedsheets followed by soft
sighs and moans. *"Oh..."* her voice moaned and echoed in his head, *"Please,
Harry... Now..."* Harry groaned, reaching out and turning the knobs, quickly making the
shower as cold as possible.

------

After forcing himself to clear his mind of Hermione once more while getting dressed in normal
Muggle clothing except for his dragonhide boots, Harry left the Splintered Wand through the muggle
world entrance. After asking a man for directions to the street written on the parchment, he hailed
a cab and was surprised when he was taken to a wealthy neighborhood far from any wizarding eyes. He
paid the driver and began to search for the address MacNair scrawled.

39 Violeta Road, read the paper. *33. . . 35. . . 37. . .*

"Thirty-nine."

Harry looked up the long gravel driveway and laid his eyes upon a house that stood out no more
than old Aunt Petunia's perfect garden on Privet Drive. The handsome manor was closed off by
wrought iron gates and equipped with a security camera. A healthy, green lawn surrounded the house,
which was a coated in a seemingly brand new coat of white paint. The perfect upper class Muggle
home.

Approaching the gate, the small camera swerved to watch him, the small red light blinking on its
head. Without so much as a glance at it, Harry discretely pulled out his wand, sending invisible,
powerful jolts and short-circuting the electronic. With a silent 'Alohamora,' the gate
creaked open and Harry's boots crunched up the gravel driveway. Coming up to the house, he
noticed a garage door open and caught a glimpse of a classic black jaguar. Harry silently stepped
up to the front door but stopped his fist halfway from knocking. Again his auror instincts of
thinking stepped in. This house was either of three things; a) An undercover Neo-Mort's home,
b) a source's home or c) a wealthy victim's. With this in mind, Harry magically unlocked
the door and slipped in.

Forcing himself to ignore the extravagance inside, Harry tapped his head and muttered the
Disillusionment charm, instantly blending into his surroundings. There were three ways he could go.
Before him began a grand staircase that curved and led upstairs. Beside the stairs was a wide
hallway leading to the back of the house. And to his left was a dark room.

As silently as possible, he went left stepped into the drawing room. Blood red velvet drapes in
all three windows kept out the morning sun. All he could see were the shadows of long couches and
small tables. On the right wall beside him was a large portrait of what appeared to be a sitting
woman. But he couldn't see her face, nor those of the subjects in other smaller frames on a
small table under it. A clock was ticking somewhere off in the distance, probably near the door on
the far side of the room. A sliver of yellow light seeped out from under the door, flickering,
showing the shadows of a person moving about. The plush, black carpet muffled Harry's footsteps
as he made his way to the door.

Heels clicked lightly on the hardwood floor as the person continued to walk in what sounded like
circles. Someone let out a heavy sigh and glass lightly chinked on tile. Harry began to push the
swinging door slightly to catch a glimpse of the person but the loud chime of the distant clock
startled him and the person in the room.

"Blasted clock," came the voice of a woman. It struck Harry as strangely familiar, but
his mind couldn't place it. "Late," she said apparently very annoyed. Seconds later
another chime echoed through the house, but it was that of the front door. The click of her heels
was getting closer, forcing Harry to quickly stand stiff against the wall. The door swung open and
he watched a woman with dark, long flowing hair hurridly sway to the front door. He was practically
invisible, but better safe to stay there against the black wall than sorry.

"Ah," came her disappointed voice from the entrance. "It's you. You're
late."

"I beg your forgiveness, my Mistress," a man growled. "I have critical news for
your husband."

"He isn't here. You'll have to speak with him later," she said impatiently.
"Do you have what I wanted?"

"But my Mistress, this can devastate the organization's plans!"

There was a long pause followed by the door closing.

"Well, what is it?" Another pause. "Tell me, you insufferable idiot!"

"Potter's here." Harry was rooted to his spot, his eyes slightly bulging. How
could he have been followed?!

"What are you talking about? I know for a fact Potter's still in England."

"N-No, my Mistress," the man replied. "I spotted him at the Splintered Wand last
night. He went into a private parlor room... But that good for nothing Biggler threw me out before
he reemerged."

During this conversation Harry was slowly making his way to the drawing room doorway in order to
catch a glimpse of these two people. The woman sighed.

"Impossible," she said to herself. An uneasy silence filled the room while she
contemplated what he had just said. "Follow me." Harry froze again as he heard footsteps.
But they began to climb the stairs, allowing him to make it to the doorway. Glancing up to the
second floor landing, he caught the profile of pale, custard like skin, a crooked nose, a furrowed
brow and long, dark brown hair tied back, a few whisps caught in his mouth. The woman had already
disappeared and Harry could hear a door being opened.

"My love," Harry barely heard her say, "MacNair is here with news for
you."

The door was then closed and no more could be heard, much to his disappointment. Harry knew
better than to follow. These people were clearly members of the Neo-Morts. His mind skipped at the
thought of finding one of their headquarters. Making sure no one was soon bound to come out, Harry
opened and slipped past the front door and outside again. Yes, he admitted, he did tend to do
foolish things, but he also knew better than to walk into what would most likely be a room full of
murderers without any backup.

Harry noticed that the iron gate was still slightly ajar, just how he left it. It was also most
likely that MacNair had apparated inside. Quickly relocking the gate, Harry looked around for any
Muggle stragglers or approaching dark wizards before apparating to Irish auror headquarters in
Horizont Alley.

-------------------

"So MacNair knows you're here," repeated Sirius tapping his quill absentmindedly
on a blank parchment. Chairs creaked as other aurors began to talk amongst themselves. Harry had
just arrived and was forced to interrupt a briefing in order to report everything he had seen and
heard on Violeta Road. His news caused immediate triumphant grins of finding a MacNair and possible
leading suspects. Others threw worried glances at each other, knowing that their original plans
would have to be destroyed and new ones conceptualized immediately.

"That definately must be Neo-Mort headquarters," said one over the talking. "We
should raid the manor and arrest all those inside."

"But how do we even know they are Neo-Morts there aside from Potter seeing MacNair?"
questioned another, sitting straight across from the first. He turned his salt and peppered head to
Harry. "You saw no one else?"

"Only the back of the woman," he replied.

"Very well," said a woman sitting besides Sirius. She reminded Harry of a younger
McGonagall as she put the tips of her fingers together and looked sternly at Harry who was seated
at the opposite end of the table. Her tight bun of black hair stretched her eyes slightly as she
studied him through her spectacles. "If that is all you have to report, I believe we have a
very long day ahead of us. All plans must be altered since we now have a very possible Neo-Mort
headquarters within sight. Potter, we will be assigning you to stake out the manor since you now
hold more knowledge of the surroundings and the home itself."

Harry nodded and they all got down to work. A wizard near Harry stood and began to pace around
the long table.

"Right," he said. "We will need records of who goes in and who comes out. Twenty
four hour surveillance, post checks both owl and Muggle, photos, floo monitoring- And this is a
muggle home, correct?"

"Yes," said Sirius.

"Then it would be possible that they have a... what is that communication device
called?"

"A telephone," answered Harry. "I think I know how to tap it. Although I will
need to go through the Muggle relations office for access and approval."

"I'll get on that," said a witch near him. She stood, gathering her heaps of
parchment and winked at Harry as she walked past.

"Catherine," said the man turning to another witch. "Contact the floo network
and-"

"Already on it," she said getting up to leave as well. All those who remained in the
briefing room to fine tune the stake out details.

--------------

Sirius came into Harry's room later that afternoon and found him sitting at the edge of his
bed lost in very deep thought. He silently went to sit beside him, startling his godson out of his
thoughts.

"Knut for your thoughts?" he asked.

"I'll be the wealthiest man in the world," mused Harry. Sirius chuckled.

"That good?"

"That many and confusing... But yeah. That good." The men stayed silent for a few
moments.

"Is it Hermione?" Harry's head snapped up and he turned to look at his
godfather.

"How did-"

"I've known you, Ron and Hermione since you were thirteen. You practically act like
your father. I think I'd know when you finally realize you're in love with your best
friend."

"I'm not in love with her."

"Oh?" asked Sirius very amused. He raised his eyebrow somewhat knowingly. Harry tried
to hide the grin appearing on his face.

"I- I don't know, Sirius. She's always been there for me. I've always loved her
as- well- Hermione. All these feelings are so new and strange and-"

"You kissed her, didn't you?"

"I- What?! No!" Sirius stared at him. "Yes."

"And?"

"And it was.... Oh Merlin. It was..."

"That good?"

"That..." Harry trailed off, his eyes having a far away look in them. He let go of a
deep breath and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Sirius, what should I do?! I've never
felt like this about her- About anyone."

"Not even Bianca?"

"No. Especially not Bianca. She left me two days ago." Harry didn't notice the
worried look on Sirius' face. "I thought I loved her but she never did this to me. She
never made me go insane over one kiss."

He wondered how much he should say to his godfather, knowing perfectly well that even he, Harry,
was still too shocked over this new revelation of feelings for one of his best friends. It was all
too fast too soon. But that's just how life came to Harry. Too fast, too soon. He glanced at
Sirius and realized that he was the only person Harry could talk to about Hermione. Ron came into
mind as well, but try explaining to him that you want to ravish both his and your closest friend
half the time you think of her. He had to get this out sooner or later if he didn't want to go
insane.

"I'm too terrified and excited to figure out what all these feelings mean. I've
known her since we were eleven and of course I love her, but never once actually considered... Half
of me is saying this is all a mistake, that these thoughts of mine are going to ruin one of the
most beautiful friendships I've ever had. But the other half of me wants nothing more than
to..." He trailed off again, lowering his head. Sirius could have sworn he saw Harry blushing.
Harry shut his eyes and rubbed his temple in frustration. "I'm not making any sense, am
I?"

"No, you're making perfect sense," Sirius replied in a soft and calm voice after
listening to all or most of what Harry wanted to say. He himself never really experienced what love
felt like, but he did always pay close attention to his best friend's courtship. He was seeing
similar signs in Harry as he did in Harry's father decades ago. "I don't know what to
tell you, Harry, except to follow your heart. It may not seem like it at first, but it will always
lead you right." Harry nodded but still felt strange about everything he'd said and was
feeling. Sirius rubbed his back comfortingly and gave him a hearty pat. He then looked down at his
watch, his eyes slightly widening in recognition. "But as for now, we have work to
do."

"I thought you said I should relax the rest of the day."

"Yes, but there's something else. Sort of a last minute task, if you will. We're
assigning you a partner."

"A partner?"

"Yes." Sirius suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable. He then got up and went to the
door. Harry stood up and followed him. "You're doing fine on your own and we're making
good progress on the case. But we realized soon after you left headquarters that you will need a
partner for the stake out. I doubt it's possible for you to stay awake for three days straight.
Her encounters with the Neo-Morts and surviving Death Eaters are of some great use to us." He
stood beside the door, his hand on the knob. Harry noticed the troubled look on his face but Sirius
answered him before he could ask. "I'm advising you now, Harry. Please put your
differences aside just for the next three days. If you had said something earlier, I could have
prevented much of the pain. But you must act professional despite what you want to say or do.
Don't do anything rash, Harry. You know it could-"

"Jeopardize or threaten the mission, myself and any other commrades. I know," finished
Harry. Sirius still looked troubled.

"Very well. Meet your new partner." He opened the door and Harry's eyes widened in
shock.

"Hello, Harry. Nice to see you again." She gave him a cheery smile.

Harry was speechless, as Sirius suspected he would be.

"Erm, hello." Harry turned to Sirius, a very worried expression on his face.
"Sirius, could I- err- Have a word?"

-----------

*Snickers* It's the return of the big bad cliffies! Muahaha!! Sit tight, there's more to
come soon enough.




8. Chapter 7
------------


Chapter 7-

Author's Note: I know most people have forgotten about this old thing. Can't blame them,
it's been ages since I took a crack at it. There isn't any full blown drama in this one.
More like piles of mysteries atop other ones while Hermione conducts an investigation of her own...
Followed by another one of my 'trademark cliffies' as some people like to call them.
::wicked grin::

Since it's been so long, may I suggest going back a chapter to refresh your memory? Anyway,
hope to see my inbox bursting with reviews!

And once again, it's AU- duh...

-------------------------

"Sirius, could I- err- Have a word?"

"Sure," he replied. He beckoned Harry's new partner into the room, asking her to
sit in the high back chair by the fireplace. He then followed Harry out of earshot from her. Harry
wasted no time in expressing his opinion, or rather, complaint about his new
*'partner.'*

"You could have told me sooner!" he whispered, obviously about to go off into a
tirrade.

"I'm very sorry, Harry, but there really was and is nothing I could do about
this," Sirius replied surprisingly calm. "You need to keep your emotions and temper in
check, Harry."

"I'm not working on this case with her," Harry fumed, his eyes fixated on her. She
was knowingly avoiding his stare by looking rather fascinated with an old, dirty painting hanging
above the fireplace.

"You have to. You two are the only ones with valuable information and experience that can
speed up our pace on demolishing the Neo-Mort organization."

"She's a liar, Sirius!" Harry snapped. Sirius forced him to keep his voice down,
glancing behind him to see if she heard him at all. As far as he could tell, she was putting on a
good show of being oblivious. Harry took a deep breath. "I don't trust her. Not after
everything that happened.

"I know you don't. But please, Harry. Don't make me beg more than I have to.
She's valuable to us. We need her information." A brief silence arose between them as
Harry crossed his arms over his chest and fumed at the floor. "And besides," Sirius
continued, "she only agreed to come on to the Neo-Mort case only if she was partnered with
you." Harry's eyes quickly snapped up to meet his godfather's with a very surprised
look. "She said she only trusted you with this information and that all us other aurors... are
incapable parchment pushers that don't know the difference between their arse and a hole in the
ground."

"She said that?" Harry asked fighting down a smirk.

"Well, no. It's more like I know what she meant." A side of Sirius' lip
twitched upward.

"Excuse me, Black," a voice behind them interrupted. Both men turned to see her rise
out of her chair and approach them a few feet. "I apologize for interrupting, but I do believe
that you said I would only be needed here for another briefing and strategizing with- Err... Harry.
I'm sorry to say that my husband has fallen ill these past few days and I must return to him
quickly since our nurse is unavailable."

"Perfectly understandable," Sirius replied in a polite tone. "We won't be
keeping you long. I only need to give you both your equipment and some last minute details, is
all."

Harry followed Sirius to the small table. Sirius pulled out two rolls of parchment and a handful
of small gadgets that he had magically shrunken to fit in one of the pockets in his robes. Harry
took the liberty of resizing the objects while Sirius began with the instructions.

"We should be thanking Merlin for this one. Apparently, four days ago a home two houses
away from our target went up for sale. No Muggles are living in there at the time, so it's
perfect for you two to stay in. Muggle repelling charms will be put on tonight. You are to take
Muggle transportation there at five thirty in the morming. We don't want to draw unnecessary
attention." Harry looked down through his parchment, glancing over the name of suspects,
places and other subjects they needed to confirm. "You have three days, so map out your tasks
carefully. Report back to headquarters in three days by six that evening. In any case one or both
of you are discovered-"

"Yes, we know," said Bianca who was sitting in one of the wooden chairs, studying her
parchment closely.

"Very well, I'll leave you to it. Harry, would you please?" Sirius asked moving
towards the door. Harry nodded, following. Bianca glanced up at them, an unreadable expression
lingering before she quickly hid her face behind her long roll of parchment.

"Will you be all right?" he asked Harry who still appeared to be very uneasy about the
whole situation.

"I don't know," he truthfully answered. "All I can promise you, Sirius, is
that I'll return with all the information we need. I can't guarantee anything else beyond
that." Sirius eyed Harry carefully as if trying to detect anything that said he wanted to harm
Bianca. All he could see was his surly face.

"I know you can't, son. Although, you will need to be the one to pry some rather
critical information from her."

"What do you mean?"

Sirius dropped his voice another level and inched closer to Harry. "She's been away
from the Irish office for the past two years, obviously. Because of her work tracking down those
old Death Eaters, we have come to believe she's discovered something about the Neo-Morts.
Rumour has had it that a former Death Eater is the head of their organization. She only works alone
though. Has been refusing a partner since she first started. So, obviously, she keeps millions of
secrets to herself."

"Tell me about it," Harry muttered. Sirius chose to ignore him.

"Old Herring, her superior, recently told me that she actually does have some information
for our investigation. When we approached her, she refused to answer our questions."

"Curious."

"Indeed." Sirius glanced back again to find her averting her eyes back to the table.
"That's why I asked you to come. We heard of her returning to Dublin and I immediately
thought that maybe she would confide in you."

"Because we were an item."

"Exactly. But this recent development between you both can be worked around." Harry
snorted. "She did volunteer under the condition you were her partner after all."

"That I still have trouble trying to understand," Harry said, his brow furrowing.

"Same here. Anyway, we cannot just go dismissing any breaks we get a hold of... Please stay
alert and be careful." Harry nodded, his eyes showing he was in deep thought.

"See you in three days, then," Harry said.

Sirius gave Harry's shoulder a firm grip and stared into his eyes. Harry knew this was
Sirius' way of saying he loved him and wished him luck. Harry closed the door behind him and
heard the familiar crack of his godfather disapparating.

Now he was alone with Bianca. The woman he wanted to be close to more than anything else in the
world a few days ago, was now the woman he so desperately wanted to stay away from. Looking over at
her sitting at the table and judging by her face, he assumed she was thinking along similar terms.
He steeled himself and walked the last several feet back to her. No sooner had he sat down to
finish looking over his parchment that she slammed hers down and spoke.

"Harry, please, you must forgive me!"

"Your name and the word forgiveness in the same sentence do not exist to me," he said
indifferently while reading his paper.

"Harry-"

"If I assume correctly, I am the only one from the two that is in any way familiar with
Muggle technology," he said in a raised voice as if not hearing Bianca at all. "But then
again," he continued glancing up at her. "When 'assume' is defined, it clearly
means making an arse out of you and me... Well, more me than you."

"Okay, I deserved that," she said in a defeated voice. "But, Harry, if we're
to work together in such a closed environment, we are going to have to work around this...
obstacle."

"So now I'm only an obstacle," he muttered finally looking up at her. His deep
green eyes were holding deadly fire again, but she refused to look away or even flinch, as if
trying to prove he couldn't hurt her. Harry glanced back down at his parchment then around at
the equipment sitting before them. "We'll have to split the tasks in the closest halves.
I'll take care of searching the posts-"

"Err... I'll monitor the floo lines. I have a source in the network already. She could
be of some use to us," Bianca said catching on to Harry's wanting to avoid the subject of
'them.' "The posts come in mornings. You'll be taking the day shift
then?"

"No, night. That will be my last task before your shift."

"Fine."

Harry detected an oddly disappointed attitude coming from her but thought nothing more of it.
Soon after, she held out a piece of equipment to him as if attempting to challenge or tease
him.

"You any good with a camera?"

-----------------

Ron was jolted awake the following morning by the sound of glass breaking. He picked up his wand
from atop the coffee table and crept across the lounge and into the kitchen. His head poked around
the doorway and found a mass of wild and curly brown hair barely peeking over the counter. He could
hear her muttering and cursing to herself. Ron couldn't help it. This was too perfect.
She'd hex him, of course, but the look on her face was always worth being turned into a gerbil.
Even if it did mean she'd dangle him above Crookshank's head as more punishment.

Hermione didn't notice the tall, slender figure creeping up behind her at all, with his
hands out and ready to grab. She'd once again been thinking about Harry and those brief minutes
in her flat before he left for Ireland. She'd been daydreaming and reliving the memory of how
he swept her up in his incredible arms and kissed her senseless. And then came those thoughts of
why he left in the first place. She still didn't understand why she didn't go with him. She
didn't understand why her always dependable conscious didn't allow her to become stubborn
once again and follow him to the inevitable danger. She loved Harry. She would do anything for him.
She'd die if he was torn away from her in an instant. She'd follow him to the ends of the
earth even if it put her own life on the line...

*'Then why didn't I go with him?'*

Hermione sighed, clearly trying to set aside those thoughts for at least a minute. She
hadn't been able to think straight since he'd left.

*'Thank goodness I don't have to go into work until tomorrow.'*

"RROOOAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!!!!!"

"RONALD WEASLEY!!!"

Ron fell back against the wall, caught in a fit of hysterical laughter as Hermione continued to
swat at him rather hard. "You... good... for... nothing... bastard!" she yelled in
between her own laughter and punches.

"Ouch! O- Okay, Hermione! Stop with the abuse," he chuckled desperately trying to
catch her quick and surprisingly strong arms. She calmed down and stepped away, brushing back a few
stray hairs.

"I should feed you to Crookshanks," she said, going back to cleaning up the pile of
glass on the floor. The pieces had gotten smaller since she dropped them when Ron scared her. Ron
straightened up and went about to make them some tea.

"Why don't you use magic?" he asked, his head deep inside a cupboard.

"Because I still prefer to do some things the Muggle way," she replied proudly. Ron
made a noise inside the cupboard. She finished picking up the broken glass in a dishcloth and
dumped the pieces into the wastebasket. "I'm sorry about dozing off on your
couch."

Hermione had been over the night before in desperate need of some company to keep her mind from
lingering on Harry for the remainder of the night. Ron was somewhat successful, but he had fallen
asleep on the floor two hours after she'd arrived. Hermione was more than contempt reading an
old book from their small bookshelf. One of them had already marked off a page over half way
through. But she never reached it for she too fell asleep on the couch.

"You know it's okay," Ron said, his head reappearing and held a small box of tea
bags. "This is your home, too. No need to apologize for anything." Hermione sat down at
the table and watched Ron.

"Sorry," she said after a moment. "It's a bad habit."

Ron looked back and grinned at her as he quickly brought the water in the kettle to its boiling
point and poured it into cups with teabags for them both. After knowing Hermione well over a
decade, he helped himself to fixing up her cup with the exact amount of milk and sugar she
preferred. He then sat down across from her and silently blew over his own cup.

"I don't see why you still like to go about things the Muggle way when magic easily
saves and gives you more time for everything else." Hermione shrugged as she sipped her tea.
"Even Harry does that sometimes," Ron continued. "Once he cleaned about half the
flat before remembering he's a wizard. He can be real daft sometimes." Hermione supressed
a laugh as she set down her cup.

"I'm not the only one who sees it then," she half smiled. Ron chuckled.

They both quietly sipped their tea for a few minutes, both in a state of pensievness and
unknowingly thinking of Harry's current situation as well, until Hermione slammed her mug down,
sending some tea spilling onto the table. Ron had jumped from the suddenness and tipped his cup
over as well.

"Ron, what the hell are we doing here?!"

The quiet Hermione of ten seconds ago was long gone and now replaced by everyone's favorite
head strong woman.

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently, knowing fully well what she was talking
about.

"Don't play idiot with me," she snapped in a louder voice. "We should be out
there with him! Not here... drinking our damn tea as if we didn't have a care in the
world!"

"Hermione, calm down," said Ron giving her a forceful look.

"No, I will not bloody calm down!" She jumped up from her seat, knocking the chair
over. "Ron, Harry needs us. We have to go help with these Neo-Morts-"

"Hermione, please," Ron said in a very loud voice. She quieted down startled.
"Calm down for a moment." He watched as she began to pace very angrily about the kitchen.
He stood up and went to her. "Hermione," he said putting his hands firmly on her arms.
"Harry will be all right. You know that and I know that." She kept her eyes planted on
the counter across from her. "These damn Neo-Morts are nothing but a troublesome gang of good
for nothing wizards. All they are is a disease to the wizarding world. With Harry on their arses,
they'll all be sent to Azkaban withing the next week! He's the best damn auror the Ministry
and the Order have ever had since Moody." Hermione still remained silent although she was now
looking Ron in the eye. "Have a little faith in the man," he continued, rubbing her arms
lightly. "He knows we'll always have his back. If he begins to get in deep over his head,
he'll yell for us."

"How can you be so sure?" Hermione asked softly. It was amazing how much sense and
cool Ronald Weasley had developed over the years. Ron merely smiled as if silently telling her she
already knew the answer.

"Because he's told us time and time again. I trust him and I know you do too. He's
not the same Harry Potter we knew from Hogwarts anymore, Herm." Ron tipped her head up and saw
the weariness behind her eyes. "Finish your tea then go back to sleep. You'll need all
your rest for tomorrow." The clock in the lounge chimed eight in the morning, making Ron
groan. "As for me, I better get going. It's our monthly Sunday Seeker Sale and I can't
be late."

Hermione watched him quickly clean his mess and set his cup in the sink then make his way
towards the doorway.

"Ron?" she asked softly.

"Yeah?" His head peaked back into the kitchen.

"Stop calling me 'Herm' or I really will feed you to Crookshanks." Ron laughed
and nodded.

"Sure thing, Herm."

"Oh-"

His head appeared in the doorway again, waiting for her to continue. She gave him a full smile.
"And thank you." This time Ron only grinned. His head disappeared again and Hermione
could hear his still too large feet thump into his room.

Hermione finished the last of her tea and set it in the sink too. She cast a quick cleaning
spell and watched as the dishes cleaned themselves. She went back to her overturned chair and
picked it up again. Ron's bedroom door clicked open and she saw him rush into the lounge to
grab his cloak.

"I'll be back around five," he called out to her. "Are you cooking or should
I pick something up on my way home?" It was common knowledge between all three of them that
Ron's talents certainly weren't in the kitchen.

"No," replied Hermione walking into the lounge. "I was actually planning on
visiting Lavendar tonight. I need to talk to her about something."

Ron shrugged and fastened his cloak. He hopped over Hermione's shoes and wrapped her in a
quick hug. He kissed the top of her dissheveled head.

"Good luck with the sale," she said.

"Thanks. You sure you'll be alright?" She nodded. "Okay." Ron jumped
back across her shoes, waved goodbye and disapparated out of sight.

Hermione sat down on the couch and began to pull her shoes on. Ron was right about Harry and she
knew it. He really was different after his last encounter with Voldemort.

"But it still doesn't mean I'm going to sit around here and do nothing," she
muttered to herself. A refreshing spell later and Hermione disapparated to the Ministry of
Magic.

---

It wasn't much of a surprise to Hermione that even on a Sunday morning the Ministry of Magic
was rather busy. She hastily avoided talking to several familiar faces while on the lift as she
wanted to avoid any questions that might have led to discovering her true intentions of being there
on her day off. But then again, as several coworkers had put it with a good laugh, she was the
overachiever getting a head start on another month's worth of work.

Briskly walking down the first floor corridor, Hermione turned a sharp corner before coming up
to the Minister of Magic's door and slipped into a room at the very far end with a peeled gold
sign reading ARCHIVES. If all had gone well, no one would have noticed her missing her floor and
she'd have a few hours to herself.

Hermione slipped off her cloak and slowly began to walk between the never ending rows of
overstuffed folders and books. The stuffy room was thick with the smell of old, moldy papers. It
almost made her feel as if she were back at Hogwarts roaming the library. She wondered with a grin
if Madam Pince was lurking about here too, waiting to catch a young couple snogging in the Potions
section. She turned into a random aisle and began her search there. Luckily she came across an
enormously fat file and knew she'd walked into the 'P' section and was now holding
Harry's records.

There weren't any tables or chairs around so Hermione slid down onto the dusty floor and
perched the papers on her lap. The first thing to meet her eyes were six photographs. One of Harry
when he was a baby, another with him and old Gilderoy Lockhart during second year, during the
Triwizard Tournament fourth year (she could spot the Hungarian Hornatil flying about in the back),
graduation, one from when he first became an auror two years ago, and one from what looked to be
within the last month. Finding nothing strange in them, she began to read:

*'Harry James Potter... Birthdate: 31 July...'* The light was too dim so she drew
up a lantern and continued. *'Parents: James Potter and Lily Evans... no siblings... Graduate
of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...'* She continued flipping several papers and
old photographs, already knowing what most of them contained. *'Underage Offenses: Three
violations of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery...'* Then came a
copy of the court transcript when Harry was tried the summer before their fifth year.

Hermione had begun to find it strange yet very comforting that she knew just about every single
detail contained in these documents simply from being his best friend. Well, everything except what
had happened during the trial, which she quickly skimmed over then. Reading these Ministry papers
she came to think of how Harry had hidden nothing from either her or Ron over the years. They,
along with Dumbledore of course, knew much more about him than any old musty piles of parchment
crammed into a tiny hole in what was supposedly the most accurate set of archives in all of Western
Europe. Convinced there was nothing new within the file, she flipped everything over to skim the
last few papers which she hoped were more recent.

She realized that Harry was soon to become one of the most decorated aurors in the history of
the Ministry, mostly due to his Death Eater captures and the death of Lord Voldemort. She flipped
page after page of captures until she came to the very last piece of parchment which was half
written in. Running a finger down for anything that looked suspicious, she came across something
incredibly startling.

"No," she gasped in shock. "There's no possible way it could be... Is
there?!... *severed all ties with... has relations with... who has been suspected
of-*"

Jumping to her feet, Hermione slammed the file shut and stuffed it back into its proper place
and sprinted back down between the aisles, skidding into another one.

... It's impossible.

---

Seven long hours later a bleary eyed Hermione was on the lift, patiently waiting to step out
into the Atrium. So far she'd avoided all contact with everyone, that is, until the lift doors
opened on the sixth floor and a rather stumpy wizard stepped in beside her. He was looking
extrememly sour considering how he'd mutter to himself. But nevertheless he turned to eye
Hermione critically then faced the gates again.

"You work too much," he told her matter of factly. "Not fit for such young a
witch... You should be out there with some boyfriend of the week enjoyin' yerself."

"I'll keep that in mind," she muttered under her breath as they stepped out into
the Atrium.

"Aye, best you should!" he called out behind her.

---

"And..." began a rather bored looking witch at the front desk. "You're here
to see...?"

"Ms. Brown," Hermione replied rather calm. "Lavendar Brown. I'm a regular
around here."

The witch gave her a once over and continued to fiddle with her nails.

"Well, I apologize, Miss- Granger- but no one is allowed beyond this point of the Daily
Prophet without a proper appointment or employment identification."

"She might as well work here what with all the help she's given us," said a man
coming up behind Hermione. He looked incredibly handsome in dark silver robes which served to bring
out the specks of silver in his green eyes.

"'Afternoon, love," he said with a bow to Hermione.

"Good afternoon, Kingston," she replied.

"Give her the pass, Jane." The witch sneered up at Kingston while handing Hermione a
vistor's pin with her name. With a curt nod, Kingston put a hand on Hermione's lower back
and led her away towards the news room which was in its usual hustle and bustle.

"What brings you here on this lovely Sunday?" he asked cheerfully over the ruckus.

"Just came to see Lavendar," she replied keeping an eye out for said friend. She
turned around to look at him properly. "And you? I specifically remember you saying something
about taking a week off starting yesterday."

"Oh- well, you see- Big scoop!" he stuttered as they weaved through hustling witches
and wizards.

From somewhere across the room they both heard someone shout Kingston's name. Apparantly it
was the boss since he immediately left her side and called back that he'd see her later.
Hermione continued to weave through desks in search of Lavendar. She passed people dictating to
their quills. A few were reading their stories aloud while editing, and a large group of witches
happily chattering besides several large steaming coffee pots. From amidst the gaggle of women
Hermione noticed her friend in favorable mint green robes, laughing insanely at a joke while she
clutched her mug of coffee in her freshly manicured hands. Feeling someone's eyes on her, she
turned to see Hermione and squealed in surprise. Hermione was then vaguely reminded of how little
Lavendar had changed since school.

"Hermione!" she shrieked squeazing out from the group and coming to meet her.
"What on earth are you doing here?!"

"Erm, could we talk in your office?" she asked rather uncomfortably while looking at
Lavendar's coworkers, all of which were glancing at her in return.

"Of course. Foillow me."

Lavendar led them across the news room once again, every so often being stopped by a person or
two who'd hand her a file or ask her about her story. One wizard in particular, gave Hermione a
set of nasty chills, seeing as that he bore a remarkable resemblance to a late Peter Pettigrew.

They soon stepped into a room near the end of the newsroom which was slightly cramped but still
comfortable. Lavendar shuffled behind a large desk that sat in the middle of the room and started
to dump several piles of paper off of it and onto the floor. She summoned over a pot of tea and
cups from a cabinet behind her and served Hermione who was anxiously seated in an armchair across
from her.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?" asked Lavendar leaning back with a hot cup of tea
in hand. Hermione graciously took hers and slowly sipped the scolding liquid.

"Do you remember several months ago you said you'd repay me?"

"How could I forget?" she replied happily. "If it wasn't for your lead, we
would've never guessed Harold Brickback was behind all the evidence tamperings during the
Malfoy trials." She took a large satisfying gulp. "Owe you a huge favor for that one, I
do."

"Well," said Hermione with an unrepressed grin. "I've come to take you up on
that offer."

Hermione sat her handbag on her lap and began to rumage inside its magically expanded interior.
Lavendar watched curiously as she pulled out several files (top secret by the looks of them) and
lay them down before her.

"You've still been keeping an eye out for dark activity?" Hermione asked
cautiously. Lavendar nodded.

"Course I have- Why?" she asked quickly. Hermione could detect that small
investigative fire beginning to burn in Lavendar's eyes. "You know something, don't
you."

"No," she replied evasively. "I'm just trying to help out Harry with a case
and you're the best resource I've got." Lavendar raised a questioning perfect
eyebrow.

"He forced you to stay out of another case, didn't he?" she grinned.

"What," said Hermione in a stronger voice and acting as if Lavendar hadn't even
said anything, "can you tell me about them?" She pushed the files farther before her and
watched her friend's eyes spark in interest as she flipped through them.

"Oh, now you're on to something, Hermione..." She couldn't hold back a gasp as
she read farther down. "Where'd you get this?!"

"I have my sources."

"Sweet Morgana," Lavendar breathed heavily. She glanced up at her anxious friend.
"And there's no early information on them?"

"It's as if they appeared out of thin air." Minutes of silence passed between them
while Lavendar continued to rummage through all the shocking information and its large gaping
holes. "Dodgy, isn't it?"

"Very dodgy."

-----------------