Author's notes: There are a lot of parts here that might seem… irrelevant, but I have decided that they are important for future chapters. Also, my primary emphasis is on Hermione and Harry's relationship, so I do apologize in advance if it seems I'm spending too much time on it, but I'd like to be able to put Hermione in as many situations as possible where Harry could see and understand just how important she is to him. I want it to be believable that Harry could fall so deeply in love with her within a certain period of time. ^_^
Also, I am reading Draco Sinister by Cassandra Claire right now, after having read Draco Dormiens, of course. If you haven't read it, you should. Goodness, it's excellent fanfiction. I LOVE it. If you like angsty, funny, twisted Harry-Hermione-Draco fics (which I love), read it here: http://www.schnoogle.com/authors/cassie/DD01.html . It's H+Hr, though, so don't worry… if you don't mind the dash of Hermione+Draco. Trust me when I say I didn't like Hermione and Draco much, either, until I read this.
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter rating: R (next chapter's smuttier, promise.)
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Chapter Third: Possibilities
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Harry looked up at the sound of the library door opening, his hand twitching to open the prop book he had on the coffee table.
The book, Troublesome Traps to Thwart Thievery by Clepp Toefingers, had seemed so much like interesting reading, until Harry realized that no book could ever be more interesting than Hermione's hair falling in a mess on her back and shoulders.
He'd been running his hands through it in the last ten minutes, enjoying the way Hermione had tried and failed to fend off his attentions. She had scolded and lectured and plead. Finally, she was wiling him to stop, and he couldn't understand how she thought this method could possibly be more successful than her other attempts, because Hermione wiling him to do anything was just a pleasant catastrophe waiting to happen.
The person standing at the door was just in time to avert disaster.
Ron stood observing them from his vantage point. He looked like a giant in the dim lighting, standing there while they looked up at him from the floor.
"Alright, Ron?" asked Hermione.
His gaze was filled with stubborn irritation, but he nodded.
She smiled, patting the space beside her delicately to coax him to join them.
Harry was a little relieved to see Ron take the invitation.
Ron did sit beside her. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything," he muttered.
She shook her head. "We were just reading some."
Ron arched an eyebrow. Harry wasn't the type who read out of school and they both knew it.
"Reading, eh?" said Ron. "About what?"
"Arithmancy Applied to Quantum Physics and the Calcular Theories of Alleptus…" she replied, biting the nail of her thumb as she grew more and more sheepish.
Ron made a face and shook his head. "What a geek."
She frowned. "Well, you asked!"
"Does it even make the slightest bit of sense to you?"
"Of course it does! The wave structure of matter and spherical standing interactions can explain the discrete energy states of quantum duality in entanglement solutions-"
"Good lord, it's like you're speaking in tongues, witch! I'm sorry I asked!"
"I take umbrage at being called a geek, by the way. Only geeks can call each other geeks. You don't get to call me-"
"You take what?"
"Umbrage! Um-brage! A feeling of pique or resentment at some often fancied slight or insult!"
"Who talks like that?"
"I talk like that!"
"Merlin, this is why you drive me nutters! I swear by Merlin! It's times like this when I seriously don't know whether to hug you or-or arm wrestle you!"
Hermione blinked at him in surprise and Harry frowned, more perplexed than teed off.
"Arm wrestle?" asked Hermione.
Ron sighed. "Yes. You know when your brothers or cousins want to settle something without knocking each other senseless? You offer to arm wrestle to settle the point…"
Her astonished eyes began to twinkle. Ron chuckled, looking more embarrassed by the second.
Harry didn't quite get it. "What's so funny?"
"Ron's funny," she replied. "He sometimes thinks I could be his brother."
Ron buried his face in his arms, blushing madly. "This is going to take some getting used to, you know. The two of you… where does that leave me now? The world goes where Harry goes, so I suppose I always believed that if I just-I don't know-had Hermione, I couldn't possibly be forgotten, or at least I wouldn't be alone."
"Don't be daft," Hermione told him gently, leaning over to pat his head affectionately. "It was never like that. There were times I felt insecure that you and Harry were setting me aside, you know?"
Harry raised his eyebrow at her in astonishment and Ron looked up from the solace of his arms.
She nodded. "I felt that the only reason you both let me stick around was because I was useful. You know, for homework and for figuring things out and stuff like that… I didn't even think you thought of me as a girl."
Harry frowned.
"Neither of you needed me last year," she said. "Not for school, or for… other things. I tried to be useful, but it just wasn't working that time. So at the end of the year, when Harry told us his plans, I knew I could be useful again, and that it didn't matter what any of you thought of me. I'll just do what I do best: Figure things out; read books; look for answers…"
Ron sighed. "And so you went to Harry's at Privet Drive. Remus told me that much."
"Honestly, Ron, I just-I didn't want Harry to be alone then. I just had this feeling he shouldn't be. Not on the eve of his birthday-"
"Eve…? Shite," Ron breathed, looking at her wide-eyed. Something obviously clicked in his head and Harry could tell he realized that they'd been sleeping together since then, but to Ron's credit, he didn't say anything more about it. He instead returned to the original track of conversation. "Hermione, for someone so smart, you're a hand at stuffing rubbish in your head. We didn't keep you around because you were useful. We kept you around because we liked you. In more than friendly ways, too, as it's turning out. Say, did you really fancy McLaggen or did you just go out with him to make me jealous?"
Harry scoffed. "Dream on, Ron."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I asked him to the Slug Club dinner because you were being an arse. I had to punish you. If it's any consolation, McLaggen was awful. All he wanted to do was snog, and when he wasn't trying to snog, he was talking about himself. Yak, yak, yak, like he was the most interesting person in the world."
Ron laughed. Harry didn't think it was that funny. After all, he'd seen how annoyed Hermione had been then. She could laugh at it now, but back then she was practically running circles around the room to get away from Cormac.
She grinned, reaching out to squeeze Ron's shoulder. "Please don't be mad at Harry, anymore."
Ron glanced briefly at him. "Yes, well, your boyfriend isn't exactly thinking nice thoughts about me, either."
She looked up at Harry questioningly and he sighed.
"The worse of it is over," he said. "Ron and I will work out our issues by ourselves, so maybe we're both still a little mad at each other, but we'll be fine. Won't we, mate?"
"Yeah," Ron muttered, almost grudgingly. "Couple of blokes like us… we don't get all touchy feely talking about things. Who knows? Maybe we'll rough each other up again."
Harry nodded but stopped when he caught Hermione's scowl. He pulled her closer into his embrace, rubbing her back as he gave an awkward shrug. "We're boys…" he explained lamely.
"Works for Fred, George and me, anyway," said Ron.
She sighed. "I s'pose there's no help for it, then. Boys are so weird."
Ron exchanged looks with Harry. "Girls don't come with a manual, either."
They fell quiet for a while, and at least from Harry's perspective, it was relatively comfortable. He had Hermione in his arms and she burrowed against him contentedly. Ron would glance at them briefly, scoff a bit but he let them cuddle.
After several minutes, Hermione pulled out of Harry's embrace and went back to reading.
Harry smiled, thinking that they could've survived an earthquake, a hurricane and a tidal wave and Hermione would still turn to the nearest book at the end of the drama, as if it was all a matter of fact and there was no point in not reading.
Perhaps seeing that their emotions have settled, Ron looked past her and addressed him.
"So, are you going to take this Order appointment, Harry? Threw me for a loop, frankly."
Harry appreciated this subject matter. As much as it behooved him to take such a responsibility as being part of the Order of the Phoenix's governing body, he didn't mind talking about it with his two best friends. "How do you think I feel? I think they're out of their minds! I'm seventeen! What the bloody hell do I know?"
Not lifting her eyes from her book, Hermione shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I think it makes sense."
Ron rolled his eyes. "She always did have an overstated opinion of you, mate."
Harry grinned. "If it's all the same to you, Ron, I think I like that about her."
Hermione shot Ron an annoyed look but went back to turning the pages of her book. "Harry has always been a capable leader, especially under pressure. His leadership skills are instinctive. He steps up, you know? It's not like either of us ever took charge whenever things were falling apart around us. It's always Harry who comes through."
Ron gagged and Harry tugged at her hair playfully.
"Why, thank you, Ms. Granger."
She finally shut her book and looked at them both, frowning. "It's not lips service! It's the truth. And I'd rather have Harry to listen to than a bunch of bickering Order members who, only two years ago, believed the papers when it reported that Harry was losing his mind!"
Ron stared at her, eyes widening. "Good lord, you are serious. Mate, she's serious!"
Harry couldn't help but frown. "I noticed. Hermione-look, your fantastic opinion of me means a lot, and I'm not just saying that. Truly, I spent my entire life at Hogwarts seeking your approval, sometimes desperately."
"Really?" Hermione and Ron asked in unison. They looked at each other and for a moment, Harry thought they were going to yell, "Jinx!" They didn't. Maybe they'd grown past that, at least.
He gave them a sheepish look. "Yes. Her approval always pleased me."
She beamed and Ron ruffled his hair irritably.
Harry continued. "So don't take it the wrong way when I tell you that I think it's preposterous that I'd sit on some board meeting and tell people that this or that recourse is better than another. For one thing, I'm not a tactician. I get things done, but I don't exactly have moves planned in my head. If they want someone like that, they should put Ron on the board."
Ron's eyes gleamed with surprise and Hermione's glazed doubtful.
Harry couldn't help but laugh and grab her affectionately, dragging her to his lap. "You don't think Ron can do it?"
Ron frowned.
Hermione squirmed on his lap, unwittingly giving Harry a flash of unchaste thoughts. "I'm not-of course I believe in your… skills, Ron. But this isn't chess…"
Ron looked hurt but Harry just rolled his eyes.
"Hermione, that's like me telling you that if it's not written in a book you wouldn't know how to apply it."
"So are you telling me we should consider pushing for Ron to be on the board?"
At this, Ron began to look alarmed.
Harry shook his head and spoke before Ron lost it completely. "I'm just saying I don't think I'm right for the job. I'm no more qualified than either of you. Besides… if by some miracle they manage to convince me to do this, I'll have to defer taking the seat. We have things to do; things to find, remember?"
Warily, she nodded. "I suppose you can put off the decision until then, but… Ronald, dear, you know I think highly of you in many things, and yes, if you were to be put on the board, I'll be one of your staunchest supporters, but Harry's different in that he does inspire. Remus was spot on about that. Harry's a force in himself. He has nothing to answer for because he's just so pure that way, and he always does the right thing without expecting anything in return."
Harry reddened, and he thought maybe his head would explode from all her praise. "Hermione," he murmured chidingly.
Ron didn't smile but he nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, like saving nightmarish girls from trolls and having 'moral fiber' at the tri-wizards tournament."
Hermione grinned. "Exactly! So Harry, you'll seriously think about this, won't you? I know the things the world expects of you can be too much at times, but we can't shirk responsibility just because it frightens us. At any rate, Ron and I will be there to help you with this particular burden, right Ron?"
"I still think you're mental."
That was Her-Ronese for "Yes."
Harry looked up at her, admiring the determination flashing from her eyes. "Alright, then, I promise I'll give it serious thought. And if you say I can do this, then I suppose I can."
"That's the Harry I know." She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes.
He had an urge to pull her close and kiss her. Maybe Ron would be kind enough to catch on and leave them alone.
Ron cleared his throat, showing no inclination to be so lavish. "In the meantime, what do we do?"
"I have one more stop before we really start looking for horcruxes. And I'd rather do it before Bill and Fleur's wedding. I've been wanting to go to Godric's Hollow. I have a feeling that I should go there, at least just to visit my parents' graves. We can go tomorrow. Leave early, you know? And then after that, we can start looking for the locket."
Ron groaned. "In Azkaban. I've said this again and again Hermione-"
"Yes! I'm mental! But of course I don't agree with you."
"The mental ones rarely do."
Hermione raised her nose haughtily. "Harry, we should speak to Remus about visiting Old Dung."
"Tomorrow," said Harry.
She smiled. "Tomorrow."
"Say, how did you know the locket wasn't in the house?" Ron asked.
Harry explained about the Finder. Ron was intrigued.
"D'you have the Finder with you?" he asked.
Harry grinned. "Always."
Hermione smiled as he dipped his hand in one of the many pockets of his cargo pants. The Finder's chain was clipped to the lip of the pocket, just to make sure it doesn't fall out without him knowing. The thought of losing it was heartbreaking to him, now, since there was such a wonderful memory attached to it. He would never think of the Finder without thinking that they had used it to play Hide and Go Seek with the most rewarding prize at the end of it.
A light blush tinged her cheeks and he knew she was remembering too. He had an itch to get this discussion over with so he could drag her to his room and take his sweet time making love to her. Ron would get over it and Remus wasn't exactly the micro-parenting type.
Harry placed the Finder in Ron's hand and Hermione explained the mechanics of it to him.
"It was her birthday present to me," Harry said.
Ron winced. "Sorry I missed your birthday, mate. Order business kept me. I got you something, though, and I was supposed to give it to you this morning, but you really teed me off and I'm still a little mad at you right now."
"It's fine," Harry muttered.
Ron looked the Finder over. "Nice. Hermione always gives the best presents."
She beamed and Harry grinned up at her.
"Yes, she does," he said, pinching her chin gently. She graced him with a blush. He hoped she understood that he wasn't just talking about the Finder.
"Can I try it?" Ron asked.
Harry let him. He and Hermione have had enough "fun" with it. She explained the mechanics of it and Ron was eager to give it a go.
Ron tried it with his Chudley Cannons' jersey. "Can I borrow this for a while?"
"By all means," said Harry magnanimously. "Take your time. But don't lose it. That Finder's special to me."
"Right." Ron got up to follow the needle. Soon, he was gone from the library.
Harry pulled Hermione closer and they met in a kiss, tongues tangling.
They separated for a bit and Harry hissed. "I'm really beginning to love that Finder… it's like the best EVER."
She laughed softly. "I think maybe I'm quite ready for bed… aren't you?"
"Early day tomorrow, you know."
"I didn't mean I was ready for sleep, Harry."
"I know."
Her eyes twinkled. "And do you suppose Ron would mind so much if he came back here and we were gone?"
"He'll be furious, but he'll live."
"Anyway, it's not like there's anything wrong with going to bed..."
"Completely normal after night fall."
"Completely!"
"Yours is the nicest room in the house."
"That, it is."
They hurried out of the library and shuffled on over to the lower floors. They slipped into Hermione's room soundlessly and the room became quieter still after Harry cast the charm to silence the walls.
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Harry woke up first and he checked the charmed clock by Hermione's bedside table.
"Too early for you, Lover Boy," said the clock in digital print.
He stifled a groan. Why didn't these damn wizarding clocks just give the time?
He shifted a bit to reach for his battered wrist watch and saw that it was six fifty three.
He was careful not to wake Hermione who, quite simply, seemed to be sleeping on him.
She was light and tiny enough to make her a comfortable and soft weight. She was pleasantly warm, too. The spill of her hair was amazing, and he rather liked that. If there was one thing he never knew, it was his appreciation for this hair of hers. He had never really paid much notice of it before. In school, she would have it tied up tightly, and in the common room, she had it tamed with mousy, unflattering clips. He often wondered whether she had-well-done these things on purpose, to take the attention away from her, because there was absolutely no way he and all the other blokes in school could have missed seeing this incredibly pretty, sensual woman if she had flirted a little more, or done something to make them notice. She had wowed them all during the Yule Ball in fourth year, but after that, she had so successfully reverted back to her unassuming front that they all perhaps assumed that the Hermione they had seen was just some kind of dream.
Ron had remembered.
That's right, but he didn't do anything about it, did he? Harry was annoyed of Ron enough to think that it had all been Ron's fault he lost Hermione the way he did.
Harry looked at her sleeping face; admired the graceful planes of her shoulders where the bones stuck out just right. She had always been somewhat tanned; a lifetime of summers in France with her parents, he supposed, and she had these incredible breasts, too. Not stacked like Katie or Susan or Lavender (yes, the boys talked. What else would they be discussing in the dorm rooms?), but just perky enough to make a t-shirt look dead good, or full enough to fit in the grasp of his palms. But other than these minor developments to her appearance, Hermione Granger hadn't changed all that much. He wondered what had been so dramatic about her change that he would look at her now with the same sense of wonder and awe he once had for Cho and Ginny. Nay, more than that. He looked at Hermione and he was astounded no one else saw what he saw. It was like being in a room where everyone was searching for gold and there he was, staring at a diamond hidden in plain view, aghast that no one else was seeing it.
Maybe he had changed. But the more he thought about it, the more it didn't seem like the right explanation. He had changed over the years, yes, and the summer before fifth year had brought on the most significant twist in his personality, the side of him that lost its temper easily, and that side of him that acted so quickly without thought. But none of these changes could have explained why he was so taken by her now.
Since that first night he shared with her, he had wondered whether he didn't always love Hermione Granger. It would have to be like one of those dormant feelings then, like magic so strong that one had to grow prepared first before it could be used. Was it like that? And most important of all, did Hermione know that? Did all those years of hiding herself mean she knew the inevitability of this between them, her disgust for divination aside? Or maybe there was a sort of instinct inside her.
He's not ready. You're not ready, her brilliant mind would tell her. Let it mature. He'll notice too soon if you let on and then where would you be? Too young. Too immature to make much of these strong feelings. Give it time and only then should you both let yourselves see.
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense; that it wasn't that he had changed, or that she had changed; it was that now, they were ready, and that now, they knew exactly what to do.
He pushed some of that wonderful hair from off her sleeping face. The freckles smattered across the bridge of her nose were way too cute. He could stare at them forever, but he had to get up. If she wasn't awake by eight, he would try to wake her.
Carefully, he extricated himself from her embrace.
She made a disapproving sound, attempting to tighten her hold on him in her sleep.
"Where you going?" she mumbled half-coherently.
"Downstairs," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."
She did, burrowing and curling around the warm spot he had left behind, her perfect back towards the ceiling.
With the blankets tangled around her legs and just covering her bottom, she looked terribly delectable.
Sighing, he left her.
He showered, dressed and went downstairs.
He began to make breakfast.
He was just putting the bacon into the hot pan when Ron appeared at the door, showered and dressed as well.
"Here's your Finder," Ron muttered, forking it over.
Harry didn't meet his eyes when he took it and slipped it back into his oft-used cargoes. He clipped the end of the chain to the lip of his pocket.
This time, Harry felt compelled to apologize. "Err, sorry we… you know…"
Ron glared at him briefly before waving his apology away. "I sorter knew you'd be gone when I came back, anyway. You looked about ready to jump her every two minutes since I walked into the library."
Harry reddened, shaking the frying pan. "Yes, well, she… rather has that effect on me."
"Right." Ron began to put some coffee together. "Look, I don't mean to be nosy, but does Ginny-"
"I've broken up with her, mate. And everything I've written to her over the summer was careful not to make her think I wanted to get back together with her, so don't worry… I'm not playing your little sister."
"Right," Ron said again, nodding.
After that, Ron seemed more lighthearted. Harry had to appreciate his friend's better traits. The bloke did take his big-brother role seriously.
"About Hermione," began Ron.
Harry eyed him. "What about her?"
"You're sure you're not just…?"
Harry was irritated by what Ron's question implied. He shot Ron a withering glance. He didn't even know if he was in any frame of mind to answer that question properly without socking Ron in the face. How could Ron think he could hurt Hermione that way?
Ron caught the look and for once understood the wordless response. "Sorry. It's just that-well, if you're so into this… this physical thing, you might have mistaken some feelings-"
"Ron, I'm going to say this only once, so listen very carefully. I don't just 'fancy' her. I don't just think she's 'kinda cute' and 'kinda pretty'. I look at her and I'm wondering where she's been all my life. Understand that much? I'm not going to lie to you about the sex. It's freaking fantastic. Sometimes, I go mad with-you know-just being near her, but if you think I'm in it just for that, then you can't have possibly loved Hermione at all. Seriously, Ron. You just can't have."
For a moment, he thought Ron would pitch into him again, but the tension from Ron's shoulders disappeared and Harry realized that at least for now, Ron was going to believe him.
"Alright," said Ron in a somewhat defeated tone. "Alright… so, we're going to Godric's Hollow this morning, eh?"
Harry appreciated the quick change of subject. What needed to be said has been said. No more need to delve further. "That's the plan."
"You reckon we'll find anything there?"
Harry shook his head. "Not really. I just-I don't feel like being alone over there, you know?"
Ron eyed him. "Are you sure you want me there? I'm fine with just you and Hermione going."
Initially, Harry thought Hermione was the only one he wanted with him at Godric's Hollow, but he supposed things were slightly different then. When he wanted to go to Godric's Hollow with her, their relationship was precariously Ron-free. Now that they'd spoken to Ron; had begun to get past issues, Harry realized that shutting Ron out would only hurt all three of them. He wanted Ron with them on this trip. "Shut it, you. You're my best friend too, you know."
Ron managed a grin.
There was sound from the stairs and Harry knew it was Hermione by her light tread.
She appeared at the kitchen entryway looking as pretty as she pleased. Her jeans gave a nice shape to her hips and belled at the bottom with interestingly thick-soled sandals. Her adorable toes peeked out of them, like a preview to her lovely feet. Her top was white, feminine and short-sleeved. Her hair was all over the place, but she didn't seem to care. Neither did Harry. He loved it best that way.
Again, he marveled at how he never noticed before and knew she had been keeping it from everybody. It was impossible to be certain as to why, and he wasn't about to ask, lest she thought he was complaining.
"Good morning, Ron," she said in her usual bossy way.
Ron muttered a reply, watching her with barely veiled fascination as she went to Harry and kissed him on the cheek.
"Good morning, Harry," she said in a softer tone.
"What sort of kiss was that?" he teased quietly.
She smiled and tried the kiss again, this time on his lips, and a little bit more than that.
"Better?" she asked.
"Much."
She pulled away and he watched her do so with reluctance. She poured herself some coffee and went to the cabinets to take out some bread for toasting.
She leaned over the sink to open the windows. "Owls from Hogwarts should be arriving today."
That startled Harry somewhat and Ron positively blanched.
She saw the looks on their faces and frowned. "Oh, honestly, you two! What are you both looking so peaky for? It's not like we're going back there so it doesn't matter how our grades turned out. I just thought that we should at least receive our Hogwarts letters properly."
She was right, of course.
With that, she pulled out a thick sealed envelope from her back pocket and plopped it on the table.
"Blimey," gasped Ron. "That's your letter to McGonagall, isn't it? Rather thick…"
She reddened as she sipped her coffee and took a seat. "Yes, well, my letter to the Headmistress is a record twenty pages long, but this one's not for McGonagall."
"Who's it for, then?"
"Well, I haven't written to Viktor in ages, so…"
Harry frowned, muttering something about stupid Bulgarians while he moved the bacon around in the pan.
Ron was more vocal. "I can't believe you're still writing to that mumbling moron! And how could you with Harry and you being… you know!"
"What does my relationship with Harry have to do with Viktor?"
"Well, shouldn't you be telling Viktor to stop writing to you now? The only reason he's writing you at all is because he fancies you!"
"Oh, don't be silly, Ron," said Hermione. "He used to fancy me but he hasn't in the last year. He's seeing a perfectly nice Bulgarian girl and he seems quite happy with her."
Ron scoffed. "A likely story. See if he writes back after you've told him about Harry."
Hermione huffed. "Well, as a matter of fact this letter does say a lot about Harry and how I feel about him, so I'll just let Viktor prove you wrong."
Even if it felt nice to hear Hermione talking about him with Viktor, he was still annoyed that the Bulgarian hadn't been kicked out of the picture completely. Anyway, Harry didn't buy the Bulgarian Girlfriend bit either.
"It's too early for this bickering," Harry groaned, transferring the cooked bacon onto a plate. He started cooking another batch, knowing Ron can finish the first batch all by himself.
The toaster gave a ring and Hermione piled the toast on its own plate, shoving it in Ron's vicinity before stacking more bread to toast.
Hermione began to fry the eggs.
With a bit of magic, the food cooked quickly, and they were seated around the table, ready to begin breakfast when the owls came. Hermione jumped up to get them, feeding the weary owls some treats before going back to the table.
Harry's envelope was surprisingly thick. Curious, he opened it and shook out its contents. With the letter and list of requirements tumbled a badge with the letter H.
The whole world's gone mad, he thought, almost horror-stricken.
"Shite!" Ron cried. "Is that what I think it is?"
"McGonagall's gone mental," Harry said, wincing.
Hermione sighed as she opened her envelope. "Well, of course you'd be Head Boy, Harry. I told you that you're a natural born leader. The Headmistress simply acknowledges that." She waved her own Head Girl badge. "Surprise, surprise."
"You, maybe, but me?" said Harry incredulously. "My grades aren't even all that good!"
"Your grades are better than most boys, and being Head Boy isn't just about being the boy with the best grades, Harry, it's about being well-rounded and being the embodiment of the Wizarding World's values."
Harry scoffed. "You're telling me Percy was that when he was Head Boy? No offense, Weasley."
"None taken."
Hermione didn't even blink. "Yes. At the time, Percy was just that. He was prim, proper, straight-laced and a product of the times. These times, however, the world needs someone brave and principled and heroi-"
Ron groaned. "Here we go again! Harry's number one fan! It's nauseating, I tell you."
Hermione glared at him fiercely. "Percy was a statesman of sorts in a time of complacency. Now we're at war, so we need a warrior. A knight, and one who can lead, at that. Harry fits that description. I don't understand why you find it so hard to believe that Harry's special, somehow. That goes for you too, Potter. Harry, you know I'm not one of your gushing fangirls. At least, I hope you know, but just because I've seen you standing around in your drawers and I've watched you all these years crash and burn in Potions and History, it doesn't mean I don't understand the side of you that the whole bloody world calls the Boy Who Lived. You and Ron saved me from a mountain troll, for God's sake. It couldn't get anymore blatant than that."
Harry felt like he wanted to melt through the floor. She was a relentless nag, yes, but it was nothing to her vicious praise mixed with her accurate reproach.
"Fine, then!" cried Ron. "I get it! So Harry's Head Boy and he deserves the badge. Too bad we're not going back to Hogwarts."
She shrugged, her enthusiasm deflating a tad. "Yes, too bad. I figured you and Harry haven't written your letters of refusal, yet, so you can write them later, after we get back from Godric's Hollow. It would be best, I think if we send our letters all together."
Harry nodded as he picked up the admissions letter and opened it. It mentioned the usual invitation to return to Hogwarts and that his list of subjects were on the attached page. He was however surprised to note that the bottom portion of the letter wasn't quite standard:
On a more personal note, I have been informed by your guardian that you have expressed a reluctance to return this coming school year. While I understand that there are matters you consider more pressing than your formal education, I implore that you reconsider. My decision to make you Head Boy was an easy one, as there was no doubt in my mind that you fulfilled the requirements of the award, however, should you decide not to attend Hogwarts this year, I would be forced to go with my second choice, which is Ernie McMillan. I am reluctant to do this, mainly because Head Boys and Head Girls are meant to compliment each other, and Ernie McMillan does not compliment Hermione Granger at all. He will, in fact, contribute nothing to Ms. Granger's development. This is troubling, as it is no secret that I have made it my mission to aid Ms. Granger in realizing her full potential as one of the most notable witches of her time. I know you hold her in high esteem, Mr. Potter, and if only for her, please reconsider returning to our humble school.
She made the formal goodbyes and signed it.
Harry tried not to squirm at the fact that McGonagall was still expecting Hermione to return and that he would be the very reason she wasn't.
Gingerly, he folded the letter back and tucked it into its envelope.
He furtively glanced at Hogwart's Sweetheart beside him.
McGonagall's going to kill me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They arrived in Godric's Hollow a little bit later than Harry expected.
Ron had, after breakfast, said that he could write his refusal letter in five minutes, prompting Harry to do the same. Ron did manage his courteous but short refusal in the time he promised, but Harry took a little longer.
Though Harry's letter was only a page long, it had the polite platitudes and winning apologies that Ron's letter lacked.
Hermione had looked over their responses quickly and approved them both without need of revision.
They sealed their letters in their respective envelopes and attached them to Hedwig, sending her off.
Now Harry was staring at the home that once sheltered him and his parents. It wasn't as big as twelve Grimmauld Place, but it was certainly a bit bigger than four Privet Drive. There was a pretty, fanciful gate surrounding the entire lot. The gate was bent and rusty now, of course, but the intricate patterns of what looked like snitches, quaffles and brooms on the wrought iron was evidence of its former glory. The place had belonged to Bowman Wright, after all; inventor of the Golden Snitch.
The front lawn was terribly overgrown, but it was easy to imagine that it could have been a picture of clean cut grass, rose bushes and a flagstone walk cutting right down the middle.
The house was in ruins, but the echo of it was there. Quaint windows and fanciful curtains; warm lights and laughing voices.
Hermione stepped ahead of them both, touching the gate and tracing a pattern on it delicately before pushing it open for them to walk through. Harry followed suit and Ron pushed the gate wider open. It gave an ear-deafening shriek before slipping off its hinge in a clatter of steel.
"Sorry!" cried Ron.
Pursing her lips, Hermione continued on.
Carefully, they made their way through the growth. They climbed the porch and Ron's huge foot punched through the porch floor.
He cursed and Harry snickered.
"You are such a klutz, Ron," Hermione said huffily. "Honestly, why don't you just bring the entire house down?" She extended a hand to help him and Ron let her pull him out of the hole.
"It's not my fault everything is too small and fragile for me," he muttered, trying to heave himself up. Harry had to help or else Ron would drag Hermione down with him.
Grumbling about boys and their growth spurts, Hermione magically undid the crudely installed bolt on the door and they went in.
There was very little left of the quaint, two-story home. It was derelict, dusty and what little furniture there was worn bare of any usefulness. A few of the standing pieces had been knocked over, probably from a stray wind that blew through one of the broken glass windows. The carpet had gone tattered through sheer exposure, and perhaps a bit of searing. The walls were watermarked everywhere and the drapes were yellow with age. There were cobwebs, especially in the small chandelier overhead, crystals blackened with neglect.
Harry looked around him and nothing elicited affection. It was just a house; an empty, desiccated husk of what once was his life; or what could have been his life.
Hermione walked slowly to the foot of the staircase. Tentatively, she took the first step and a painful groan shrieked from the wood.
Harry was afraid the only thing that held it up were the termites that had likely eaten through it in the last sixteen years. "Maybe you shouldn't, Hermione. That thing can cave in-"
"It will be fine, Harry. If Grimmauld Place can stay upright, so can this house." She began to climb and she ignored every creak her step created.
Ron looked up the steps warily. "Maybe I should stay down here."
Harry smirked, following after Hermione. "Alright. Watch out for those spiders, though."
"Spi-h-hang on, I'm coming with you!"
They reached the landing and Hermione walked down the long hallway to enter a room a few doors down.
Harry followed her and Ron sort of stuck close by, wand out to hex any unfortunate arachnid that happened to cross his path.
Hermione stood in the middle of the floor, her gaze on the large, grime-covered bed.
The bed was made-up, like whatever had stopped time in the house had done so before bedtime. The lamps on both sides of the bed were yellowed and decaying; loose strands of dusty cobwebs hanging from them and connecting them to the bed.
Harry came up behind her. On the ruined bedside tables were picture frames, but the pictures were gone. "This is my parents' room, isn't it?"
Hermione nodded, looking up at him.
He wished he could tell her that he felt something, but he didn't, exactly.
"Harry."
Harry turned and saw Ron staring at an open closet. There were clothes inside it and Harry was drawn to its contents.
Dresses. Just a few, really. There were pants in them as well, and dark robes. He looked at the bottom and he saw the shoes; men's shoes.
Dad.
He felt a twitch inside him this time, knowing that his mother and father had been in these clothes. He reached out and touched the fabrics. They were stiff with age, and the colors had faded dull, but they were personal in what he first thought was an impersonal house.
Ron nudged him. "Oy, where's Hermione?"
Harry snapped out of his reverie and looked around frantically. He was inclined to believe that nothing really wrong could happen to them in this house, but he wasn't taking any chances. He hurried out of the room and looked into the door across the hall.
He was relieved to see Hermione there.
She was crouched down, her knees pulled to her chest. She was tinkering with a baby mobile. The mobile was still securely attached to the frame of the crib, though the entire crib was collapsed.
Delicately, Hermione pushed the mobile with her fingers, making it turn and awakening the enchanted stars, moons and unicorns attached to it. The trinkets twitched with what magic remained in them.
"In integrum restituere," she whispered, flicking her wand at the toy.
The mobile trembled, shaking dirt from off itself before it began to turn and the soft, tinkling music played its soothing tunes once more.
She smiled wanly, looking at them. "Precious, isn't it? Harry, you touched these when you were a baby. And you'd have been sitting right there." She pointed to a spot on the tilted bed frame, the mattress yellowed in spite of its powder blue tints. "And…" She dipped into her pouch and brought out what looked like a pastel purple rubber ring the size of a fist.
She went to them. "This is a teether, see? There are indents over here, like two tiny teeth biting into them. Baby Harry's teeth marks."
Harry blinked. "I did those?"
She smiled and nodded. "Isn't it adorable?"
Ron coughed, garbling "Sap!"
"I don't care what you think. I'm keeping this."
Harry looked at her in surprise. "You will?"
She blushed. "I will. It's cute. It was yours."
He smiled. Who'd have thought something as silly as that could make him feel good?
"Harry…" She looked up at him and she was suddenly crying.
His smile faded, her tears alarming him. Was it something he said? "Hermione, what's wrong?"
Ron fidgeted, shuffling about in his pockets and surprisingly producing a handkerchief.
Hermione accepted it, wiping her eyes as she blinked. "Nothing," she replied. She pointed her wand back at the mobile and said, "Finite incantatem."
The mobile stopped; the music faded and the dirt blossomed back on it.
It was then he realized what her tears were for and he understood the depth of her feelings for him.
"We should go to the nearby church," she said. "Visit the grave yards. I-Harry?"
"This is where you think it happened, don't you?" he said softly. "Voldemort came and-and killed mum right here. I was in that crib and he shot me with the killing curse…"
Ron began to back away from the crib.
Hermione looked guilt-ridden. Why, he wasn't sure. Maybe she felt that if she hadn't shown him her tears, he wouldn't have figured it out and she could have saved him the pain. But it hadn't been her fault. She had nothing to feel guilty about.
"You lived," she said plaintively.
There were many times in the last seven years that he wished he hadn't, but now wasn't one of those times. Right now, he was standing in a room with the very person he lived for.
He went to her, draping his arm over her shoulders. "Come on then. Let's go to that church. Ron?"
Ron snapped out of his own thoughts, following after them and looking around him with a renewed sense of awe.
This was the house that had changed Harry Potter's life forever and that thought was parts amazing and terrifying at the same time.
Harry looked at her and she returned his gaze.
"I'm sorry," she said.
He shook his head. "Don't be." He brushed his lips on her forehead before leading them down the creaky stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They found the church easily enough, with its steeple rising high above the many houses. Godric's Hollow was a small town by itself, and its residents weren't very friendly to strangers, but Hermione didn't care a wit. She found a nearby flower shop, bought a bouquet of white lilies and carried them the rest of the way.
"They're for Harry's mum," she simply said when Ron asked her.
Harry thought maybe he'd die in appreciation of her.
Harry, Hermione and Ron found no trouble at the local Anglican Church. The vicar was a kindly old man who pointed the way to the graveyard without issue.
The graveyard was somewhat old, but generally well maintained. It was impossible to find a pattern on the grounds amidst the tombstones, but that was not the fault of the church, as the earth did have a tendency to move by itself. They split up into sections and were looking for about twenty minutes when Ron waved to them, saying he had found the tombstones.
Harry felt that little twitch in his stomach again, but it wasn't overwhelming, and he went to Ron.
There was nothing distinct about the tombstone, even with the phoenix crest carved at the top of it. It was one huge slab of marble with the words "Lily and James Potter. Loving parents. Soldiers brave."
Under their names were the years "1960 - 1981".
"Harry," said Hermione, handing him the flowers she had bought earlier. "Ron and I will be over there, alright? Take your time."
He cocked a small smile at her, thankful for her sensitivity.
She took Ron by the arm, leading him away towards a stone bench farther down the yard.
Harry fidgeted a bit as he looked at his parents' graves. He wasn't sure what to say, really. Awkwardly, he put the flowers at the foot of the tombstone and stared. He'd heard that people prayed on the graves of their ancestors, but he didn't think praying would do, this time. He never had much theology in his life to begin with.
Flowers are for you, mum, he thought. Hermione bought them.
He sighed and crouched low.
I suppose you know what's been happening all this time. Voldemort's back and he's spent the last few years trying to kill me. He's a bit of a bother.
The wind blew softly in his hair and the dried leaves rustled about. He thought he heard a giggle, and it could have been anything; distant wind-chimes, or maybe even Hermione, but he rather liked the thought that Lily's spirit hadn't lost its sense of humor.
So Harry spoke to his parents in thought, telling them the various highlights of his life, and maybe even the low points. He brought up Sirius and hoped that his Godfather was with them.
I'm sure Sirius has told you about Hermione in detail. She helped him escape execution, and Sirius has been in love with her since. It took me longer to figure it out, but I did, eventually. She's wonderful mum, dad. You two would've loved her, too. She takes care of me and Ron and I think maybe I'd have been dead first year if it wasn't for her. She's the first person I know who'd ever told me she loves me, and that really means a lot…
He spoke a bit more about Remus, about how Remus told him all sorts of things about Lily Evans and James Potter. Harry had long realized that Remus and Sirius had seen very little of Lily and James when he was born, so there were very few "Happy Family" stories Remus could tell him with any detail or great accuracy, but it was enough for Harry that Remus could tell him, with utmost certainty, that his parents loved him very much. That was enough "happy family" for him. Remus's tales of James and Lily in school were easier to relate to, anyway. It was through Hogwarts his parents came alive for him, and through the years, scouring for information; looking at pictures; walking the same halls as his parents had, Harry had formed some sense of belongingness. He had a legacy, after all. Tales told through the memory of loved ones and friends were more precious to him than anything he had watched from a pensieve.
He said his goodbyes to his parents' graves, rising from his crouch to look around. He could see Hermione and Ron speaking, heads close together as they sat face to face. If he didn't know any better, his insecurities would've gotten the better of him.
They saw him approach and they rose to meet him.
"Alright, Harry?" Ron asked.
Harry nodded. He was feeling a bit melancholy, but he was glad he made the trip.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him and he took comfort from her concern.
Moments later, they were walking back into the church where the good vicar gracefully accepted their thanks.
"My dear, would you care for a rosary? We just received our newest supply and they're quite fetching," said the vicar.
Harry and Ron looked to her. She paused for a moment, blinking in surprise before she nodded warily.
"Um… of course. Mum's Anglican so I can buy one for her…"
The vicar raised an eyebrow. "You're not Anglican?"
She fidgeted on her feet. "And for myself?" she added rather uncertainly.
The vicar nodded. "Excellent. Wait here." He left, shuffling briskly to one of the closed doors and disappearing behind it.
"Indirect donation," she explained, chuckling a bit. "Churches don't get big-shot sponsors to run it." She ruffled in her pouch for her wallet. She brought out some pound notes and Ron took a moment to look over some muggle money.
The vicar came and showed her some rosaries. She selected two and paid for them, telling the vicar to keep the change.
"Bless you, child. The county orphanage will thank you for your generosity."
As they headed out the door, Hermione began to mutter to herself about having very few pounds on her to make much of a difference. She shoved the rest of her pound notes in the "County Orphanage Fund" box along the way and dropped in what galleons she had for good measure. They were gold, after all.
Perhaps having a soft spot for orphans himself, Harry put in his own galleons just right after she and Ron stepped out of the church. The vicar saw him.
"Bless you, son."
Not sure how to respond to that, Harry nodded and hurried on after his friends.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They were back in Grimmauld Place sometime during lunch and Remus was there looking a tad annoyed.
"I really wished you had left me a note," he said. "That way, I could at least pretend that I had some control over my charges. As it is, I implore you to be more cautious about leaving the house unattended by aurors."
Harry was about to protest when Remus beat him to the punch.
"In your position, I wouldn't want to be followed around either. As an adult, you should have the right to come and go as you please, but your circumstances do not allow for that, Harry. As much as I would like you to live your life freely and without some crotchety old Order nosing in on your business, that is simply beyond my control. Humor an old man, won't you? Let me know, next time. I promise; I won't let them prevent you from doing what you have to do."
Remus very rarely exerted his authority and Harry could tell by the looks on Hermione and Ron's faces that they felt guilty enough already.
Harry readily apologized, promising Remus that next time, they would act more responsibly.
Remus forgave them with a ready smile. "It's alright. I was just worried, that's all. So, where have you been?"
"Godric's Hollow."
There was a flicker in Remus's eyes that looked much like sadness and regret.
"I'm sorry I forgot to ask you," said Harry hastily, realizing to his horror that Remus might have wanted to come.
Remus smiled. "No need to apologize, Harry. I-I don't think I would've gone anyway. I don't know if I'd have managed it with-well, anyway, I'm glad you went to visit. It's the decent thing to do."
Harry smiled wanly.
Remus then told them he'd have lunch ready soon.
Hermione, in the true spirit of their promise to Remus, told him that she'd like to visit her parents in the next available weekend, which was likely the weekend after Bill and Fleur's wedding.
"They said they wanted to spend an advanced birthday with me since I haven't in the last six years. If Harry and Ron would like to come…"
Harry looked at her askance. "Well, of course we'd like to go with you."
Ron grinned. "We'll try to behave for your parents' benefit, Hermione."
She chuckled. "You're invited too, Remus. I'm sure my parents would be delighted to have you. Mum always loves to show off the house since it's-like-her life-long project, but you can come with us. I'll drive you all in my dad's BMW."
They all looked at her in surprise.
"You can drive?" asked Harry. "Like-without magic?"
She frowned. "Well, of course I can! I got my license to drive ages ago. I wouldn't have cared at all, you understand, but mum and dad are muggles, so they believe it's dreadfully important. They even bought me a Fiat of my own, but if I'm going to drive the lot of you around, there's no way we're all going to fit in that tiny car. Daddy will have to let me use the BMW. He croaks about petrol most times, but he won't on my birthday!"
"Fascinating!" Remus said. "Tell me, Hermione, why shift gears and why have a hand-break when there's a break-pedal?"
Hermione then began to explain the basic mechanics of a car to Remus and Ron. She conjured models for them that were so far from the Ford Anglia that Ron and Remus were amazed. Harry had some exposure to cars, and he'd even seen the really fancy ones, but his interest in cars was minimal, probably because he never had pleasant memories attached to the things.
"This little beauty is my favorite," she said, conjuring a streamlined auto in silver shine. "It's a Jaguar XK8, 4.2, V8 engine, five speed automatic transmission…"
Harry laughed. "Good lord, Hermione. I didn't realize you were into cars."
She blushed. "Well, not cars, per se. Machines, really, and how they work, but cars are so fascinating because they're a perfect fusion of function and design! Like magic. I suppose I can like motorcycles, too, but I don't like that they're so unsafe."
Remus grinned. "Sirius would have begged to differ."
Their eyes widened at him in surprise.
"Sirius had a motorcycle?" Hermione demanded.
Remus nodded. "Long ago. It's lost now, you understand, but it… served its purpose."
Hermione snorted. "I bet all the girls went ape seeing him on one."
"Harry, you should get one, too," said Ron eagerly. "Drive all the birds wild!"
Hermione rounded on him, glaring at Ron viciously as she whipped out her wand. "Don't you go encouraging him, Weasley! And what are you on about birds? I'll give you birds!" She conjured her canaries and sent Ron running from the room as they circled his head pecking at him.
Ron began to scream that it wasn't funny. Harry was laughing too hard to offer any kind of help. Apart from the fact that Hermione's Attack of the Canaries was funnier now than the first time he saw it, he was terribly pleased that she was doing it because she was being-well-possessive.
"Why, that's excellent spell work, Hermione!" Remus said.
"Thank you!" Hermione huffed. "But I don't want to talk about motorcycles anymore!" She left, stomping up the stairs.
Harry stopped laughing long enough to realize she was seriously upset. He could still hear Ron screaming hexes at the canaries.
"Oh, my," said Remus. "I think maybe you should go after her."
Harry did, wondering what on earth set her off. He found her in the library, furiously turning pages in a huge-arse book.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Harry?" She didn't look up from her book.
"Er-was it something I said?"
She kept flipping, making no reply for a few seconds before she sighed and leaned back on her seat. She looked at him, a blush rising up her cheeks. "No, of course not. I was just-I was being-" She sighed, putting her arms on the table and burying her face into them.
Harry sat beside her, lightly playing with her hair. "Being?"
She peeked from the cover of her arms to stare at him. "Harry, you're positively the most handsome boy I know."
He froze and felt himself go red all over. He fidgeted awkwardly, smiling a bit and feeling embarrassed at the same time. "Err-thanks?"
"It's true. I look at you and I think the angels must have spent a bit more time putting you together; not just on the outside, but on the inside, too."
"Shite, Hermione… stop it already. You're embarrassing me."
She chuckled. "And that's probably the best part, too. You simply don't know it. You look at yourself and you don't think you're special. That just drives the girls mad. More than half the girls in school would've committed murder to have you smile at them the way you do when you make a fantastic catch of the snitch. And I know a few boys who wouldn't mind getting your attention, either." She giggled.
He reddened even more.
"Which is why," she continued. "I can hardly believe this-us, is real. Because in real life, the gorgeous lead doesn't fall in love with the plain Jane girl, and even if now we're together, I'll always think that some beautiful princess is going to come along and make you realize that you can do much better than having mousy me for a girlfriend."
His embarrassment quickly dissipated at her outrageous words. "How can you say that about yourself? How can you say that about me? You're not plain. And you're not mousy. Not to me, and I'd have to be an idiot to think that there's someone out there better than you. I think you're breathtaking, and so very desirable, especially with all that wild hair. I was watching you sleep this morning, and I've been hitting myself over the head and asking myself why I never saw this in you before. You're lovely and there's a special magic in your eyes, that's just… it drives me insane, but in a good way." He touched her shoulder, tracing the pads of his fingers on it lightly. "And I just love the color of your skin…"
"R-Really?" she whispered. "You mean that? You're not just-"
"I'm not lying. I'm not flattering you, either. I'm telling you that I think you're beautiful and that there's no one else like you in the world."
There was disbelief in her eyes, but she was smiling, too. She nudged him shyly. "And here I thought you loved me for my mind."
"That, too, but it doesn't hold a candle to your breasts, really, which are just exquisite-"
She pinched him lightly.
He pulled her into his embrace and whispered in her ear, feeling the usual tingle of naughtiness when they held each other this close. "And you just drive me mad, sometimes; not just when you're naked, but sometimes you'd be fully dressed having a perfectly decent conversation and all you have to do is sigh a certain way and I-I'd get a-you know."
He felt her shudder.
"You do?"
"Yes."
"That's very encouraging."
"You have me whipped solid in that department, just so you know."
She smiled, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For being insecure. For belittling your feelings for me. But I can't promise I'll always be sure of myself. I can't promise that I'd ever outgrow this feeling that I'm not good enough."
"Then I'll have to apologize too," he said softly. "Because I'm just as guilty of those things."
"Right self-deprecating couple we make."
He smiled. "We'll just have to keep reassuring each other, I suppose."
"I suppose."
They chuckled.
After a moment of comfortable silence, Harry reminded her that Remus had made lunch for them, and that they hadn't been very appreciative of his efforts.
Hermione responded immediately, pulling him with her as they rushed down the stairs to rescue Ron from canaries and join Remus for lunch.