Summer's End

A.N: My first multi-chaptered Harry Potter fic in a long time. I am not what one would call a frequent updater, but I do have a pretty clear-cut plan for this. I’m keeping it to five chapters, so hopefully you won’t have a long wait. Read, review, and enjoy!

***

“Chloe pulled another tiny bottle—this time gin—out of her jacket pocket and popped the top. ‘It sucks to wait though,’ she said, taking a sip of it. ‘I mean, waiting for everything to begin.’…

‘This is just the in-between time,’ I said. ‘It goes faster than you think.’” This Lullaby, by Sarah Dessen

***

Harry Potter did not think he would ever come back to Number 12, Grimmauld Place so soon.

But then, he also hadn’t believed that Snape would kill Dumbledore, that he would suddenly fall in love with his best friend’s little sister, and that he would be leaving Hogwarts a year early.

He had been standing, just staring at the door for a full minute after it had appeared without going in. He was too busy trying to sift through the thoughts in his mind.

“Harry,” Hermione said softly, “You have to go in sometime.”

Harry glanced back at her and Ron. They were standing one step down from him. Ron was constantly looking both ways, his wand discreetly at his side. Hermione was holding her trunk, looking at Harry with concern.

“Yeah,” Harry muttered. “All right.”

The second he went in, he wanted to run right back out. It was still depressingly dark, had that musty, dead smell, and the floor boards creaked. He half-expected Sirius to come down the stairs complaining about his mother’s portrait.

With a creak of a floorboard, Harry stepped further into the house. It looked exactly the same; nothing had changed. His breathing was shallow. Everything here was too much the same, everything Sirius hated, everything he wanted to get away from.

He was startled back to reality when Ron slammed the door. He noticed Harry jump, “Sorry. I guess we should take our stuff upstairs?”

“Same rooms as last time?” Hermione asked.

“Sure.” Harry nodded.

They were barely settled when the door opened again. Instinctively, all three pulled out their wands, only to find them trained on Mrs. Weasley.

“Sorry to bother you!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, bringing in a few bulging bags.

“Mum!” Ron yelled. “Send an owl next time!”

“Hi Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said graciously. “Do you need help carrying those?”

“Thank you, dear.” She said. “I just wanted to bring you over some food, and I do believe some of my cookbooks are still here. Now, I know Ron can’t cook a meal to save his life, but I’m not sure about you or Harry.”

“I can cook anything as long as I have the supplies and a recipe.” Hermione told her.

“I can make a few simple meals.” Harry added.

“Well, those are the best, aren’t they?” Mrs. Weasley said brightly. “I got you some basics at the local market—it’s just two blocks down the street. I know you’ve all got your savings, which I suppose you can use for groceries, although I’m sure a few other Order members would be more than happy to buy for you.”

While she was talking, Mrs. Weasley was putting food away in cabinets and the refrigerator, clearly at home here once again. When she turned back to them, her eyes were filled with tears. “Now, I guess you’re all set.”

“Mum, don’t cry.” Ron said. “We’ll see you soon.”

“I know.” Mrs. Weasley sniffed, “It’s just I thought that I wouldn’t have to do this for another year. Fred and George left home early, and now you too. And, oh, Harry and Hermione, you’re part of the family also.”

“Ron’s right, Mrs. Weasley.” Hermione said, “We’ll see you.”

“Real soon,” Harry assured her.

“Remus will be over in a few days to set up the Fidelius Charm. He’ll be your secret-keeper; is that all right?”

“It’s fine.” Harry said.

After another five minutes of reassurances, Mrs. Weasley was out the door. Ron closed it with a roll of his eyes.

“I hadn’t thought about it yet.” Hermione said, “That we’re on our own now.”

“Not too exciting, is it?” Harry joked weakly. “Well, besides the Voldemort stuff.” He checked his watch. “It’s six-thirty. Do you want me to start dinner?”

“I’ll help.” Hermione offered. She looked at Ron.

“I’ll…make tea.” Ron finished lamely.

***

Harry had been right; being on their own wasn't very exciting at all. He was still apprehensive living at Number 12. Hermione was clearly thinking hard about the horcruxes all through dinner. Ron tried to start conversation, but fell into his own quiet reflection.

After dinner, they ended up in the library. Hermione had examined the shelves for some of the darker books (“…I might find something about the horcruxes… I really wish I had been there when you got a hold of Slughorn’s memory, I would have loved to hear the information first hand.”). Ron and Harry played chess.

And then they slowly made their way up the stairs (creeping past Mrs. Black’s portrait) and up to their rooms. The three stood in the hall awkwardly.

“Night, Hermione.” Ron said.

“Yeah, good night.” Harry added.

“Sleep well,” said Hermione as she disappeared into the darkened room.

***

It was dark in the bedroom. Ron’s even breathing from the next bed was calming; it made him feel a little like he was back at Hogwarts. The two places had that same old feeling to them.

Harry turned over onto his stomach. His mind was restless. This, he supposed, was normal too. It was getting hard to remember a night where he wasn’t thinking about the next step concerning Voldemort.

The door to the room slid open and Harry sat straight up.

“Harry?” It was Hermione. She padded into the room and sat at the edge of his bed.

“What’s going on?” Ron mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Hermione didn’t say anything. She drew her legs up to her chest and crossed her arms over them.

“Hermione,” Harry asked, now very alert, “What’s wrong?”

“Maybe it was reading those books, but I don’t want to sleep in that creaky old room alone tonight.” Hermione said. “Can I stay here with you?”

***

Hermione knew in this moment how much her boys loved her. They were carrying a mattress through the dark halls just a little after midnight for her even though they were so tired they hadn’t remembered that they could use a spell to make the bed feather-light and carry it that way.

With a sigh, Hermione pulled out her wand and cast the spell. Immediately, she had to stifle her giggles as she watched Ron and Harry trip with the bed, surprised by its sudden lightness.

“Er, thanks” Ron said, looking sheepish.

Hermione smiled, “I thought you might want me to make it easier.”

“Warn us next time” Harry said as he rubbed his knee.

Once they had set the bed up, Hermione hugged them both. “Thank you.” She said sincerely.

“No problem,” said Harry. “Sleep well.”

***

Hermione did sleep well. When she awoke the next morning, with the sun streaming through the shutters, she felt like everything was perfect.

And then the entire situation they were in crashed into her again. Suddenly, the sun didn’t seem so idyllic as much as mocking. Hermione slowly got out of bed and looked for her trunk: still in the other room.

Ten minutes later, Hermione had moved her trunk into Harry and Ron’s room, gotten dressed, and went downstairs to have breakfast. Within fifteen minutes, Harry showed up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Not long after, Ron joined them.

“Beginning the research today?” Ron asked over cornflakes.

“I’m not sure there’s much to research,” Hermione said. “From what Harry’s told us, it’s just going to be a lot of brainstorming and trying to figure things out.”

“I’m sure you’ll solve it, Hermione.” Ron said with a warm smile. Hermione found herself blushing. Harry just stared at his cornflakes. He sure as hell wasn't going to get between anything going on with those two.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Yes, well, we’re going to have a lot of work. I will consult some of my books for who R.A.B was. You kept the letter, right Harry? I’ll need it for analysis.”

It was the first time that it really sunk into Harry that they were starting this. His huge plan of finding the horcruxes, of possibly finding Snape, the first steps in defeating Voldemort, it was happening. It was suddenly so very real, and touchable, and here.

His thoughts were interrupted by Hermione saying “I’ll need to write down all the known horcruxes, and the other possible ones, and the ones Dumbledore’s gotten rid of. That might help us find the others.”

“You know,” Ron said, “I bet all our other classmates are having fun on their summer holidays.”

And then, Harry was calm. He had Ron and Hermione with him. As much as he feared that he was putting them in danger, he couldn’t do it without him. They were here now, and they would help him.

***

They worked for six straight hours before stopping. Around one o’clock, Harry and Ron lobbied for a break.

Hermione didn’t look up from her book before agreeing. “I just have one thing I need to finish.”

“I’m getting lunch,” Ron got up from his chair. “You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m fine.” Harry said. “I may try to take a nap.”

Ron left the two of them alone. Harry looked over at Hermione. She had moved from her book to a piece of parchment.

“What are you writing?” Harry asked.

“A letter to Professor McGonagall,” Hermione muttered. She put down her quill and came to sit next to Harry. “Just something I wanted to do.”

“A letter about what?” said Harry. Hermione was sitting very close to him. Her hair brushed against his cheek.

“I wanted to ask her to send the book list for the classes I would be taking next year.” Hermione said off-handedly.

“You did what?” Harry said.

“Well, I know we’re not going back to Hogwarts, and I know we’ll be busy with the horcruxes, but I still want to at least get a cursory knowledge in what we would have been doing next year.” Hermione told him defensively. “You should too. At least get the Advance Defense Against the Dark Arts book.”

“I don’t need a book, I’ve got you.”

“Don’t tease, Harry.” Hermione smiled.

“I’m not.”

And before he even knew what he was doing, Harry was kissing Hermione.

When he kissed Cho, it had been awkward and sad. When he had kissed Ginny for the first time, it was loud, with fireworks in his head and a monster in his chest.

But kissing Hermione, it was calm, and natural. His mind was clear. He should be freaking out over the fact that he was kissing his best friend, but it didn’t even cross his mind. All he could feel was Hermione: Hermione’s hair under his fingers, Hermione kissing him back, Hermione’s lips on his.

The moment they broke apart, it hit him. He just kissed Hermione. Harry watched as the same thought obviously came upon her; her expression went from ‘blissful’ to ‘worried’.

“That shouldn’t have happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry blurted out.

Hermione had moved away from him to the edge of the couch and curled into a ball. “That shouldn’t—because you’re Harry, and I’m me, I shouldn’t have, you shouldn’t have,” she breathed in deeply. Harry looked concerned.

“Hermione, I-”

“Harry, this is just all, pressure from what’s going on, it has to be.” Hermione said. “And it can’t happen again.”

“Why not?” Harry asked. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t say that kissing Hermione felt so right. But then he saw Hermione’s face, and decided that it might be best to keep that to himself for now.

“Harry, Ron and I are practically, well, I don’t know what we are, but something’s happening.” Hermione said in a panicked tone. “And you just broke up with Ginny! This has got to be rebound, exacerbated by everything that’s happened recently,”

“All right,” Harry said, “It won’t happen again. It was just a fluke.”

“Just a fluke.” Hermione repeated.

They stared at each other for a minute. The only sound in the room was their breathing. Then, the silence was broken by Ron yelling from downstairs, “Harry, Hermione, you need to eat! Mum brought enough food to feed a bloody army, and you know she’ll just bring more next week!”