Disclaimer: See Part 1.
Author's Note: As a sort-of (belated) birthday post for a certain Ron Weasley's birthday-this chapter that has some Ron-the-best-friend goodness (as well as some H/Hr.) Enjoy!
From My Soul
Part 7
"We did it," Hermione breathed, still studying the key in her hand.
"No, you did it," Harry corrected, giving her a quick one-armed hug. And then he did something he had never done before and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
She caught her breath and stared at him, feeling herself blush from the surprise and the startling warmth of his lips on her cheek, a warmth she could still feel lingering.
He averted his eyes to look back at the key in her hand, reaching to take it, rubbing the key against his shirt in a mostly futile attempt to clean it from the dirt and grime of decades, and then slipping it into his pocket.
"Come on, we should get back to Ron," he began, striving to sound indifferent. He didn't know what had possessed him to kiss her but he had simply felt so-grateful-to have her with him, for her cleverness which had gotten them this far, to finding the second horcrux so soon and relatively painlessly and he had given in to his impulse and kissed her… But what made him suddenly so self-conscious wasn't just that he had, rather uncharacteristically, initiated some physical contact or even that, after all, he had never kissed Hermione before, but his own reaction to it. He could still feel the softness of her cheek against his lips; he had been able to catch her scent too, a slight pleasant fragrance, a mix of strawberries and some floral scent he couldn't identify, other than to know that he liked it. Liked it amazingly.
Once he reached that point in this thoughts, he mentally back-tracked. He had no business liking what Hermione smelled like, no business thinking about what Hermione smelled like, period.
They left the Chamber in silence, Hermione thinking how different it was from when they had walked into it just a little while ago. They had walked in holding hands and now, they were leaving it with a distance of a few feet between their bodies and an even greater distance between their minds. She could feel that Harry had retreated, again, into himself, after that all-too-brief moment of openness.
She stifled a sigh, glancing at him as he walked quickly down the tunnel, and then mentally shook herself.
She shouldn't be spending so much time thinking about Harry and her feelings for him. They had two horcruxes now but still no idea as to how to go about destroying them and even less of an idea as to where to begin searching for the other horcruxes.
So, somehow, they were back to the beginning-or worse, because they really were going in blind now. Figuring out that RAB was Regulus Black and that the locket was in Grimmauld Place had been a beginning. Finding the key in the Chamber had been another step forward-and now they had nothing more to go on.
They still had Hufflepuff's cup to find-wherever it was, to say nothing of another horcrux which might be Nagini but might not be. And she had exhausted the library of Grimmauld Place still with no clue as to how a horcrux might be destroyed. And destroyed without dying somehow in the process. She shuddered at the memory of Dumbledore's deadened hand-and Dumbledore had been, well, Dumbledore. Had been so powerful and so knowledgeable. If destroying the horcrux had nearly killed Dumbledore, what might it do to them?
It didn't bear thinking about.
Harry was waiting for her where the tunnel had caved in and offered her his hand to help her climb through the rubble.
She thanked him with a quick smile which he returned, and she suddenly felt immeasurably better.
"Harry," she began once they were on the other side, "I think you should tell Professor McGonagall about the horcruxes."
He turned to look at her. "Dumbledore didn't and he made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone but you and Ron."
"I know but, Harry, Dumbledore's gone and I think he would agree you should tell Professor McGonagall. She's the one with access to all of Dumbledore's books in his office that probably would be more useful than anything we can find in the Hogwarts library or anywhere else. Plus, I'm sure that once Professor Dumbledore's portrait wakes up, she'll ask him and he'll tell her. She can help us, Harry, and we need help."
She paused and then added softly, "You should trust her, you know. You need to trust somebody."
He sighed. "If I don't agree, you'll just keep at me until I do, won't you?" he asked rather ruefully.
She colored. "I don't want to nag. You can tell me to shut up if I bother you."
"I would but you don't bother me," he interrupted. "And anyway, you're right."
She smiled. "I don't bother you?"
"No." He paused and then added, "I'll tell McGonagall when we get back up to the castle."
"Okay."
"And Hermione, I trust you."
She blinked. "I trust you too but why are you telling me this now?"
"Before, you said I need to trust somebody. I wanted you to know I trust you and I trust Ron. And so did Dumbledore."
Her smile was soft. "Thanks."
They reached the rope and Hermione sent up her Patronus to alert Ron to start pulling them up.
She turned to Harry to find he had already performed the Lightening Charm on himself and then she felt him perform it on her and she smiled at how he had anticipated her.
He clutched the rope and quirked a half-smile. "Now you get to act like you love me and hold on really tight."
Hermione flushed as she moved to hold on to the rope with one hand and put her other arm around Harry's shoulders, as he put his free arm around her waist, her grip tightening almost convulsively as she felt the rope begin to be pulled upward and their feet slowly felt the floor of the tunnel.
She hid her face in Harry's shoulder to conceal the blush she couldn't help as well as the flare of pleasure at having Harry's arm around her like this, pressed so tightly against him. Her heart was beginning to clatter. She thought of Harry's words, Now you get to act like you love me, and all she could think at that moment was, I don't need to act. I do love you…
Ron had never in his life been so glad to see a Patronus than he was to see the white form of Hermione's Patronus come out of the pipe. He knew it hadn't actually been that long since Harry and Hermione had gone down to the Chamber but it felt like it had been hours as he waited, with unconcealed impatience, uncomfortable to be alone in the girls' bathroom, uncomfortable to be alone with Moaning Myrtle of all people.
And then he saw the otter. "Thank Merlin," he breathed, surprising himself at the measure of relief he felt. He'd been telling himself that there was no cause to worry, that the basilisk was long dead and there couldn't be anything else living down there but he hadn't been able to keep from wondering. It was the Chamber of Secrets that had been built by a bloke as twisted and mental as Slytherin and used by the even more twisted and mental You-Know-Who; there was no knowing what else might still be lurking down there.
But now he could see that they were, apparently, fine and could perform his part in this whole hunt. He began pulling on the rope, smiling slightly when the rope came easily with only a light weight, as if of some relatively small rock tied to the end. Good, Hermione hadn't forgotten to perform the Lightening Charm. He pulled slowly, methodically, remembering all too well how many twists and turns the pipe had. He didn't want to pull Harry and Hermione up covered with bruises as he had no wish to be on the receiving end of Hermione's annoyance. To say nothing of the fact that, after all, Harry had quite enough troubles on his mind; he didn't need to be bruised and battered by his own best friend in the process.
It was a few minutes before he saw the tops of Harry's and Hermione's heads, frowning slightly at how close they were. He had forgotten that they would need to hold on to each other to be pulled up together and felt a queer sensation, like his stomach had twisted, at the sight of Harry and Hermione clinging together.
It didn't mean anything; it was only because they had to, he assured himself, trying to ignore the odd feeling. Besides, he and Hermione were just friends now; he didn't fancy her like that anymore. It was fine…
Harry looked up and met Ron's eyes as he pulled them up the rest of the way. "We found it," he told Ron with a grin.
"What was it?" Ron asked, returning Harry's grin as Harry let go of Hermione and stood up.
Harry opened his mouth but was momentarily distracted by the sight of the sink coming back up, once more blocking the entrance to the Chamber. Hermione had stood up also, brushing futilely at her clothes which were grimy from sliding down the pipe.
"Hermione found it," Harry began, his attention returning to Ron, as he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out the key, showing it to Ron.
Ron bent over the small key, his expression a combination of fascination and apprehension. "I'm assuming this is what once belonged to Ravenclaw. What d'you suppose it unlocks?"
"I have no idea," Harry admitted. "I don't really care, though. This must be it, the next horcrux."
"Where was it?" Ron asked, frowning slightly as he tried to picture the Chamber from what Harry had told him about it.
"It was in the statue of Salazar Slytherin," Hermione answered. "Voldemort carved a little hole in the left eye of the statue and stuck the key inside it." She ignored Ron's flinch at her saying Voldemort's name.
"The left eye? I wonder why he chose the left one," Ron murmured idly, more to himself than anyone else.
"Sinister," Hermione said.
Harry and Ron both stared at her. "What?" Harry asked.
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, his tone suggesting he thought she was mental.
"Why Voldemort chose the left eye. I think we can be sure it was deliberate; we know he put a lot of thought into the horcruxes and where he hid them. It's because it was sinister."
Ron frowned. "Okay, now you're talking in riddles. We know You-Know-Who is sinister; what does that have to do with anything?"
Hermione let out a breath in mild irritation. "No, sinister-it means left in Latin. It's how it came to mean evil in our time; it's from the Latin word, left." She pointed to her right eye. "This is 'dexter' in Latin; this," she continued, pointing to her left eye, "is 'sinister.' Voldemort chose the left eye. He had sinister intent and so he hid a horcrux in the sinister eye of Slytherin."
"You're brilliant," Harry breathed.
Hermione smiled at Harry.
"I actually think it's sort of amusing, in an ironic way, that he hid it where he did."
"And there is something so very scary about you saying that," Ron interjected.
"I think I have to agree with Ron on this," Harry added.
Hermione let out a huff of exasperation. "I didn't say I think he was right to create a horcrux or anything. I'm just saying the play on words is rather amusing. Not that Voldemort or the horcruxes are amusing."
Harry couldn't help a smile. Hermione was so-cute-when she was annoyed.
Ron gaped at Harry this time, his jaw dropping slightly. "What did you just say?"
Hermione too stared at Harry, her cheeks flushing. "I- what?"
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione and realized he'd said that Hermione was cute out-loud. Oh bugger. Sodding bloody hell.
He glanced frantically around, looking for the hole in the ground that must have just opened up so he could leap into it and never come out again-or for the pipe leading to the Chamber to have opened up again-but the sink remained in place and there was no hole in the bathroom floor. Bugger bugger bugger.
He hadn't just said that. He could not have just said that aloud.
Only-he had.
"Er- I didn't mean that," he said hastily. "I meant- um- I meant…"
"Give it up, Harry," Ron advised, his lips twitching, despite his shock, at Harry's stuttering. "I think you've made what you meant pretty clear in what you said."
Harry decided he could probably light a fire with how hot his face felt. If Ron and Hermione were together-were they together? They didn't act like it; Ron didn't treat Hermione any differently, and Hermione had just said that things were "strange" between them, whatever that meant… And Ron didn't look like he was going to hex Harry for having more-than-friendly thoughts about his girlfriend and that was something, right?
"Can we- uh- get out of the girls' bathroom now?" Ron finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
Harry tried to smile but could only manage a twitch of his lips. "Oh right, yeah."
"And I don't know about you two but I'm starved. I'm going to head down to the kitchens, see if the house elves can rustle up some lunch," Ron declared.
Harry suddenly realized it was past lunch-time and they hadn't eaten. He was actually hungry too; he just hadn't thought about it while down in the Chamber of Secrets. "I'll come with you."
Hermione set off in a different direction, calling over her shoulder, "Get some food for me. I'm going to go to the library and I'll meet you guys outside of the Headmaster's office, okay?"
"Okay," Harry answered.
"Why're we going to see McGonagall?" Ron asked, turning to frown slightly at Harry.
"To tell her about the horcruxes and see if she can help us." He hesitated and then asked, "You're not-mad-about what I said to Hermione, are you?"
"No, I'm not mad. Surprised-and I think you might be as mental as she can be-but I'm not mad. Hermione and I-well, it never exactly happened; it was practically over before anything had begun."
"Oh."
"So you- er- fancy Hermione now?"
Harry blinked, his steps slowing slightly. "I- um- I don't know."
"You really think she's cute when she's brassed off about something?"
Harry thought about the way Hermione's cheeks colored when she was annoyed, the way her eyes positively sparked. "Yeah."
Ron shook his head and sighed as if his opinion of Harry's sanity had just gone down. "You're mental, you are. She's bloody frightening when she's ticked off! And last time I checked, being frightening and being cute aren't the same thing. If they were, I'd think Aragog and his kids were cute." Ron paused and then shuddered exaggeratedly. "You're mental," he said again.
Harry's lips quirked into a smile almost in spite of himself. "Yeah, maybe. Everyone thought I might be in 5th year, maybe it's finally coming true."
"Don't be an arse. The only people who really thought you were barmy in 5th year were people like Umbridge, the Toad."
Harry's left hand instinctively and automatically brushed the scars on the back of his right hand at the mention of Umbridge's name.
Ron didn't notice, had changed the subject now. "I wonder what the house elves do when we're not around. They only have the professors to feed; that can't be fun for them having so much less work to do."
And Harry surprised himself by thinking, house elves deserve to have some time off, though.
He didn't have much time to wonder at this thought as they had reached the picture of the fruit bowl and Ron had reached out and tickled the pear.
The kitchens were much less busy than they normally were but before Harry had done more than digest that fact, he was distracted by a small blur that launched itself at him with a squeal.
"Harry Potter, sir!"
Harry freed himself from Dobby who was hugging his leg and smiled. "Hello, Dobby."
"But what is Harry Potter doing at Hogwarts now?" Dobby asked.
"I came back to finish something Professor Dumbledore told me to do," Harry explained, truthfully enough.
Dobby's expression immediately sobered at the mention of Dumbledore. "Dobby is missing the Headmaster very much, Harry Potter, sir. The Headmistress is nice but she is not the Headmaster."
Harry noted that Ron had, in the meantime, asked the other house elves for food and was currently being bombarded with enough food to feed an army and was sitting down and happily beginning to eat. "Oh, is McGonagall still paying you like Dumbledore did?" he asked.
Dobby nodded. "Oh yes, sir. She is. Dobby's life has not changed much because of the Headmaster being gone. I is still working."
"What about Kreacher?" He supposed he should find out what his most unwanted legacy from Sirius was doing.
Dobby's expression became as close to a threatening frown as it was possible for Dobby's expression to get. He jerked his head over to a corner of the kitchen. Harry glanced over to see the ragged form of Kreacher bent over a small table. "He is there. He works but is not at all friendly and only mutters to himself and says bad, terrible things about Harry Potter and his Wheezy and Miss Her-my-nee."
"But he hasn't tried to, you know, do anything bad to the food or anything, right?" Harry asked.
Dobby looked shocked at the question. "Oh no, Harry Potter, sir. He cannot. He would like to but as long as he is belonging to Harry Potter, he cannot do anything bad without having to punish himself. Harry Potter told him to work here so he work here but he cannot be leaving or doing anything to harm his master." Dobby paused. "Dobby is watching Kreacher to make sure too."
Harry smiled. "Thanks, Dobby. Can I have a sandwich to take up for Hermione?"
"Of course, Harry Potter, sir!" And before Harry had time to do much more than blink a few times, Dobby was back with enough sandwiches of every conceivable variety that, if Harry had actually taken them, Hermione would have had enough to last her for a month.
Harry took two sandwiches, one for himself and one for Hermione, and turned to Ron, who was cheerfully munching away with several house elves standing around ready to give him anything more he asked for.
"Ron, I'm going to go up and talk to McGonagall," Harry said, raising his voice slightly to get Ron's attention.
Ron looked up distractedly, his mouth full, and nodded, waving one hand in a gesture that Harry correctly interpreted to mean, "I'll meet you there later."
With a grin for Ron's appetite and a last smile and goodbye for Dobby, Harry left the kitchens.