Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: Apparently, some of you took the 'who wants to kill Ginny?' as an indication that someone in the story would try to kill Ginny, which I swear is not gonna happen (well, Harry might ;)). I just mean, who among you is pissed at her for opening her big mouth :p?

Anyhow, here's an update, got done with it much much later than I expected to and for that I am very very sorry. I just got busy with school, work and then the holidays and it all was just too much. So I made it extra long and with lots of stuff you people have been looking forward too, according to your reviews anyway.

I hope you guys enjoy this and that you all have spent a nice holiday period.

A great green flame swallowed me as I entered the fireplace, carefully articulating my destination. Ever since the summer before my second year at Hogwarts and the flooing accident as a result of which I'd ended up in Knockturn Alley, I'd been careful when flooing. I preferred apparating by far, except when coming home directly from my office (it had its own fireplace, and guards prevented anyone from apparating in or out of the Auror quarters for safety measures). But without an apparating key to where I was headed, I couldn't gain access and this was the only way I was allowed in.

'Ginny?' was the first thing I said as I stepped out of the fireplace in the youngest Weasley's flat. I heard a gasp from another room as a response and a few moments later, a red-faced, messy-haired Ginny came out of her room, buttoning her blouse.

'Blimey Harry, you scared me half to death!' she exclaimed as soon as she saw me, placing both hands firmly on her hips. I could hear shifting coming from the room she'd just left and with a grimace, I let out a loud groan. Sure enough, Draco came out a few seconds later, also looking flustered.

'Potter.'

'Malfoy,' I replied, my jaw set. Those were the most cordial salutations we'd probably ever managed. Now, don't get me wrong, I think Ginny and Draco make the perfect pair, but that doesn't mean I have to be able to stand him. Sure, he sometimes went out with Ron and I, and it seems that he's much better company when he's blind drunk, but that was it. I was glad to see him turn around and go back into the room before closing the door behind him. Remembering why I was there, I turned to Ginny and simply glared.

I was expecting her to sheepishly look down or something of the sort, but instead she held my gaze, making me feel uncomfortable in the end. Sensing this, she smirked at me and finally spoke. 'I'm guessing you had a talk with Ron?'

The way she said it made me want to cast the Bat-Bogey hex on her, to give her a taste of her own medicine. I couldn't do it nearly as well as she could, I was in a good position to know, but it would still be terribly unpleasant. 'You gave me two weeks, Ginny. I can't believe you told him!'

I'd wanted to have that talk with her for the last few days, terrified that if she'd broken her promise by telling Ron, she would tell Hermione, too. I'd tried to get in touch with Hermione without much luck, hoping to get to her first, then I'd simply decided to make sure Ginny would keep her mouth shut for at least another week. Not that I was really mad she'd told Ron, it probably had been for the best: his mature reaction had been in no doubt influenced by the fact that he'd been told in advance about my feelings for Hermione. I just needed to be sure that when it came to Hermione, the revelation would come from me and not Ginny.

Ginny's reaction to my complaint was a giggle, then she shook her red mane and sighed. 'Harry, I told you I wouldn't tell Hermione before Sirius' party, I never said anything about Ron.'

I parted my lips, ready to shout back an argument, but came up with none. My mouth slightly hanging, I stared at her, stunned.

'Harry, if I told Ron, it's because I knew that it would go across better that way. Let's face it, if you'd just blurted out that you have feelings for Hermione in his face, he would probably have reacted pretty strongly. But that would have simply been because of the shock and I know you would have interpreted it differently. After that, you just would have choked and not told Hermione. We don't want that, now, do we?'

Damn, I hate it when she's right.

With a sigh, I signalled that I'd given up by raising my hands with my palms out in front of me and turned away from her to go sit on the couch. She followed me, but remained standing as I passed one hand in my already messy hair nervously and sighed yet again.

'I tried to tell her, you know. Well, I tried to meet up with her, anyway. She dodged every lunch date,' I began, not at all sure where this was going. Was that my excuse for not having told Hermione yet? In truth, it had been more than a year, not just one week. I'd seen her almost every day during that year. Even if she'd agreed to meet up with me, there was no guarantee that I'd have had the courage to come clean about what I felt for her. 'I know that it should come from me, but it's just hard, Gin. What if she doesn't love me? That'd put really an uncomfortable tension between us and I can't have that. I'd rather be a friend to her than nothing at all.'

I was expecting her to tell me that I was wrong, or maybe I even foolishly hoped a little for a big revelation, but Ginny remained silent. Dreading the worst, I looked up at her and my fears were confirmed. She stood there, a pitiful expression on her face, apparently at a loss for words. 'I'm sorry Harry. I wish I could tell you that she loves you too, but frankly, I don't know. Hermione's very private about her emotions. She tells me things, she told me about the kiss, but she doesn't tell me everything.'

'It's fine. I'll just have to make a man out of myself and tell her. I faced Voldemort, how hard could it be?' I said, half joking. The knot in my stomach made it quite clear to me how hard telling Hermione the truth would be.

While Saturday had been stressful, Sunday was gearing up to be much more enjoyable. It was the first thing that crossed my mind as I opened my eyes and blinked a few times to bring my vision into focus. I was laying comfortably on my stomach, the warm duvet weighing down delightfully on me. The previous day had been a series of incoming owls from curators all over Europe, because somewhere, some new recruit had screwed up and orders kept being delivered in the wrong museums as it had been the case during the week. It was really the curator's job, but as usual, everyone turned to me. I guess it's the price I have to pay for being so organized and effective. Today, I would be resting. Any and every job-related owls would be ignored, I decided while rolling on my back and stretching my arms. I would actually sit down and have a real meal, then take a long warm bath before heading out to buy Sirius a present for his birthday. Maybe I would even get lucky and run into Harry.

Avoiding him for fear of revealing my feelings to him was taking its toll. I missed him a great deal, especially after the experience with the Pensieve. I'd not seen him for a whole week and that was probably the most time we'd spent apart since we'd left Hogwarts.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I got up and headed for the kitchen. I found the Daily Prophet on top of the table, as left every morning by Bathilda, the Eurasian Tawny Owl I'd purchased after Ron had moved out, leaving me without a owl. I'd named it after the author of A History of Magic, which given my line of work, seemed proper. I always left the kitchen window open for her, having cast a charm on it so that the cold air wouldn't get in, as well as unwanted intruders. Taking a treat from a small pot on the counter, I offered it to her and she let out a pleased squeak from the stand on which she was perched.

I ate a full meal of eggs, oatmeal, fruit and juice while browsing through the newspaper and finding nothing interesting. The bath was marvellous; it released knots in every muscle, including some I didn't even remember existed. After getting ready rather quickly, I headed out to browse through muggle shops for Sirius' gift.

Even after years of knowing him, I found that getting him a present was much harder than for anybody else. For Harry, Ron, and even Ginny, it was a simple task, but Sirius was tricky. It took me the better half of the day before I finally settled on a beautiful black coat that cost me a little more than I'd planned to spend, but that pleased me as I was sure he would love it. Once that was out of the way, I went to Diagon Alley even though I was starving, to make some quick purchases for myself and while in a bookshop, fell face to face with Tonks.

'Hermione!' her voice called out from the other side of the table I was exploring, startling me out of my examination of a book on the history of house-elves. After a quick hug and kisses on the cheeks, we chatted a bit about generic things, but I could sense that there was a more important subject that she wanted to address. She just didn't seem certain how to do so.

When finally I paid for my books and we were headed out, she gave in and bluntly asked me if something was wrong with Harry. My heart jumped in my chest at the mention of his name and I had to pause to regain my composure before I could answer without compromising myself. 'Well, other than his best friend getting engaged, I can't really see anything.'

And it was true. No, I hadn't noticed anything wrong about Harry, everything was certainly very, very right about Harry. So right, in fact, that I'd fallen in love with him. Cursing myself for letting my train of thought go in that direction, I tried to focus on what the once pink-haired witch was telling me. Apparently, Harry had been working weird hours, not coming in some days to work on weekends instead. On top of it all, he had seemed to easily get irritated and sometimes came in with a rather awful mood.

What Tonks, Harry's superior, was saying truly intrigued me. Every time I'd seen Harry in the past few weeks, he'd been nice, patient, understanding; the complete opposite of the description she was giving me. She was right, something must indeed have been wrong. But why would Harry try and hide that from me?

We parted and I headed home, not even giving the kitchen a second glance as I passed by. My appetite was gone; worry had taken its place. I simply didn't understand why Harry would conceal that something was wrong from me. We'd always trusted each other with everything. I was about to dip my hand in the floo powder to head over to his flat when a thought stopped me. Not everything.

Pulling my hand away from the pot that was hung on a hook next to the fireplace, I went to sit on the couch, lost in thought. During our first years at Hogwarts, we'd been able to tell each other anything, or at least, anything that had true importance. But as we reached puberty, complete honesty became a much more delicate subject and now, I realized that we'd stopped being completely honest with each other for a considerable number of years. The simple fact that I was doing all I could to avoid revealing my feelings to him instead of being frank with him was proof enough.

But if I could hide something so huge from him, what could he be keeping away from me?

I sat there for a good hour, connecting the dots and most of all, marvelling at my idiocy. How could I not have seen it? Wasn't I meant to be clever? The smartest witch in my class? Books were one thing, but when it came to relationships, I always lacked knowledge. Harry and Ron had taught me friendship; Ron had taught me love… But apparently, I made for a poor student in that last subject, to not have understood this before.

In my mind, I could see my excursion in the Pensieve replaying itself, except instead of being pulled out of the memory by my own anxiety, I completely turned. Logically, I found myself facing myself once more, because if Harry was looking in my present self's direction, he was actually looking at the Hermione from the memory. I felt faint, recalling the look in his eyes, the way it made me feel. He had been looking at me, looking at me lovingly. The way he'd held me without asking for an explanation, the day he'd taken off to be with me. Even the breakfast he'd cooked me. As I thought back on those things, memories from the past year came rushing back, like how his hugs had been a bit longer, a bit more insistent, or how he would hold his breath, sometimes, when I accidentally rubbed against his body as I walked past him.

Was Harry my midnight kisser, and more importantly, was he in love with me? Or was I horribly wrong?

***

I simply stared at Tonks, my mouth hanging, still trying to process what she'd just said. It was only Monday morning and already, all hope of getting in touch with Hermione to finally tell her the truth had been crushed. Sure, I did have available time, but with what I'd just been informed of in mind, how could I tell Hermione about my feelings? I couldn't tell her the truth and then leave.

Because that is what had me shocked beyond words. My superior had just told me that I was to be put on an assignment, an undercover mission for an indefinite period of time.

'Tonks, I don't think ... I just…' I began to protest, but she raised one hand, silencing me.

'I'm sorry Harry, I know something's been troubling you lately, but you're the person we need for this. With your knowledge of Voldemort and of the Death Eaters… There's just nobody else fit for this.'

I'd not been in many undercover missions, mainly because of my fame, which made it quite difficult to keep a low profile. I'd alter my appearance for some, as I assumed would be the case here if I were to be involved in Death Eater business. All of them knew perfectly well who I was and what I looked like. I knew this was an opportunity I should not pass, but I didn't care.

'Are you absolutely sure there isn't another way to approach the situation?' I tried, looking straight into her eyes. Her pink hair was now of a more conservative blonde, pulled back as it usually was when she was doing desk work, and her eyes were of a dark amber color that reminded me of Hermione's own eyes. That thought only made my composure harder to maintain when all I wanted to do was yell. Tonks' only response was a nod.

I set my jaw and swallowed hard, resigned. 'When will I be leaving?'

'Sunday night.'

***

'Ginny!' I exclaimed, stomping my foot. The redhead glared back at me and dropped down in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. I'd erupted into her apartment, interrupting her in the middle of a heavy snogging session with Malfoy, as soon as I'd been able to get out from work on that Friday. I wasn't sure whether she was angry at me for yelling at her or for disturbing them. Either way, Malfoy seemed to be rather enjoying the situation, sitting comfortably on a couch in corner of the living room with a smug smile on his face.

'I can't tell you anything, Hermione!' Ginny shouted back from where she was sitting.

'So there is something to tell! I knew it! I knew you'd been hiding something from me!' I said in a reproachful tone, waving my hand in the air as I stepped towards her. She shook her head vividly, voicing a protest that stopped me dead in my tracks.

'I haven't said anything, because there's nothing I can say! Whatever it is you want to know about Harry, Hermione, I suggest you take it up with him, not me.'

To be frank, it's not like that hadn't been my first thought. Of course, I knew that the surest way to get a straight answer was to ask Harry himself. Yet, I'd found myself chickening out of the situation and going to Ginny's instead.

After a second of hesitation, I threw a side glance in Malfoy's direction, hating him for being a witness to my humiliation, then sighed. 'What am I supposed to say, huh? Hello Harry, kissed me of the late?'

I heard a snicker coming from the corner in which Malfoy was sitting as soon as I was done talking. Instinctively, I turned to charge and hit him, resolving to muggle violence against him as I had once before in our third year, but Ginny was on her feet before I could take two steps in his direction. She grabbed my arm and stopped me, relatively gently, then threw a hard glare at her fiancé. 'Hermione, any way you want to approach it, it's going to be difficult. But Harry and you have been friends for so long, I'm sure that even if you're wrong, he'd understand. Tell you what; if you're wrong, you can even tell him that I told you that I thought it was him.'

'Great,' I said, rolling my eyes. I'd not told Ginny about the feelings I suspected from Harry, only about the kiss. I figured making a fool out of myself would be less lethal to my friendship with Harry if it were for a stupid midnight kiss than accusations of being in love with me.

Sitting amidst a ton of paper work on a Friday night, in the kitchen of my own flat certainly wasn't my idea of fun. I sighed, turning the pages of a large file containing the information on the people I was to come in contact with during my field mission, and then drank some fire whisky. My glass was only half empty, but the combination of a sleepless night and alcohol was enough to make me rather drowsy.

I'd spent all night tossing and turning, unable to find sleep because I couldn't take my mind off of Hermione. It seemed to be a recurring theme, lately. A loud crack behind my back made me jump and I almost dropped my glass on the table, recovering at the last second. I jerked my head back to see whom had apparated in my flat and almost let go of my glass a second time when my eyes came to rest upon Hermione. Setting the glass down and closing the file, I slowly got up, trying to remain calm.

That nearly became impossible when I got a good look at her. Her eyes were set on me, making me feel naked and uncomfortable. 'Hermione?'

She didn't say a word, only kept staring at me. The determined look on her face made me incredibly nervous, as if she could read my mind and there was nothing I could do to keep her from seeing the truth. Finally, she made a move, closing the distance between us in a handful of steps and then cupped my face with her hands. Getting up on her toes, as I was considerably taller than her, she pulled me in for a kiss that shocked me beyond words.

The feeling of her lips against mine was divine and I willingly gave in, wrapping my arms around her. It was even better than the midnight kiss because she was kissing me, not a stranger. She had made the first move, she had kissed me. The reason she had done so didn't matter right now, the only important thing was Hermione's lips and her body against mine.

Then suddenly, the moment was over and Hermione stepped back. I opened my eyes and we stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, both looking dazed, our lips swollen.

'I knew it…' Hermione whispered, breaking the silence. Then she looked up at me and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Her eyes were pleading.

'Hermione, I…' I began, powerless to find the right thing to say to her. I couldn't tell her about my feelings for her now, and simply leave two days later for an indefinite period of time. It wouldn't be fair to her.

'What does it mean, Harry? Are…are you in love with me?'

I lowered my eyes, unable to look at her. I wanted to come clean, to say yes and finally be able to stop pretending she was only a friend to me. To stop feeling guilty every time I looked at her in a way that wasn't platonic or every time my heart jumped when she smiled to me. But I couldn't.

'Look at me! Please, Harry!' Hermione said, her voice louder. I looked up, seeing the tears in her eyes.

'I'm sorry, Hermione, I don't…' I began, unsure where this was going, but that soon was no longer an issue as Hermione cut me off with a sharp slap.

My hand was still in the air, hovering somewhere in the distance between him and me. I could see the imprint of my palm slowly appear on his cheek as his face remained slightly turned to the side from the impact.

I'd not felt such a rage since the final fight that had sparked my break-up with Ron years before, and what I was experiencing right then was probably even stronger. I wanted to hit him more, to scream, to cry. I wanted to be the furthest away from him as possible, but I was stuck there, paralyzed by my anger. And even worse was that all at the same time, I'd have given anything for him to say he'd been wrong and that he did love me. Anything.

'Was this just some game to you? Got bored messing up your life so you decided you might as well just fuck up mine?' I spat at him, well aware that I wasn't at all being rational and not having a care. He took a step towards me and I pushed him away with disgust, before turning away to walk out of the kitchen.

'Hermione, no, it's not…' Harry called, following me into the living room. I felt his grip on my arm and I jerked it away, in addition to pushing him back more roughly.

'Stay the bloody hell away from me, or I swear that I will end you.' My voice was low, threatening, and it threw him back. He seemed genuinely shocked that I could speak such words, but my fury consumed me in such a manner that if provoked, I would possibly follow with the threat. I'd never felt anything so violent before. My soul was ablaze. And all that while, the only thing I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat, hammering the words, 'I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't.'

'You looked at me in the eyes, Harry. You looked at me in the eyes and you pretended not to know a thing about that kiss. You played with me! You don't love me. You don't even care what the hell happens to me. I'm just a tool to you, just like I've always been. Bookworm, plain Hermione; she sure is handy when Voldemort attacks, but let's just toss her aside and ignore her when she's being boring!'

At several moments during my long rant, Harry tried to intervene, shaking his head, but I simply went on. My last statement sparked a stronger response, however. He took a strong hold on both my shoulders and gave me a shake, forcing me to stop and look up at him. 'No! Hermione, you're not a tool, you're not…'

I just didn't want to hear it.

'Get your hands off me.' I articulated each word carefully, daggers in my eyes. He paused and held my glare for a moment, then did just what I had asked him, even taking a step back. I then took out my wand and dissapparated to my own flat, unable to stand the sight of him one second longer.

Standing in the middle of my living room, in the big empty flat that I hadn't shared with anyone in years, I remained silent for long minutes. I kept squeezing and releasing my fists on both sides of my body, taking long breaths to try and contain myself. The next thing I knew, I was collapsing to the ground in a heap of tears. I cried my heart out, lying on my side on the ground with my legs brought up against my chest. I wasn't only crying for my unrequited love, but also for the friendship that I knew was ruined. My relationship with Harry had been the only stable thing in my life, and now that had been swept away.

I woke up in the same position the next day well into the afternoon and picked up my sore body from my living room floor with great difficulty. I went through the motions, getting ready for Sirius' party. Not once did I let what had happened the night before cross my mind. Every time the thought of Harry popped up in my head, I pushed it away. Never before had I realized how big a part of my life he was. From the pictures around the apartment, to the things we either had bought together, or that he had given to me; memorabilia of him were spread all over my home. As I went around, getting ready, I found myself overturning well over a dozen frames.

I apparated outside Sirius' home in Godric's Hollow (where he'd chosen to move instead of living at 12 Grimmauld Place) and I sucked in a breath at the sound of roaring laughter behind the door. For a moment, I was on the verge of heading back home, but I decided against it. I owed it to Sirius, for all he'd done for me in the past, to be there, even if I didn't know how I would react to Harry's presence.

I rose a shaking fist and knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer. The sight that was offered to me when the door swung open almost had me bursting in laughter, but I repressed it and grinned instead. 'You know Sirius, I'm trying to see you as a strong father figure, it's just…not coming.'

'What, you don't like it?' Sirius said with a pout as he stepped aside to let me in, then reached down and slightly pulled on the flower-print dress he was wearing over his clothes. This time, I couldn't repress a giggle and when I hugged Sirius to wish him happy birthday, it was also to genuinely thank him for making me feel a tad better, even if he wasn't aware of it. I offered him his gift and he thanked me with a smacking kiss on the cheek before putting the coat on over the dress. I still had no idea where that one came from.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I whirled around, my heart jumping in my throat. If it was Harry, I wasn't sure what I would do. I couldn't ruin everybody's evening by screaming at him, but would I be able to help it?

I let out a long sigh when I saw that it was in fact Draco who was standing behind me. Without a word, he handed me a glass of fire whiskey and when faced with my puzzled expression, it was his turn to sigh, but out of exasperation. 'Potter messed up, right? I'd quite enjoy wallowing in your misery, but Ginny would kill me. So, I'm offering you this drink instead.'

I gave him a shocked look and he shook his head. 'I might be blond, Granger, but I'm not stupid. And he's not here.'

He shoved the drink in my hand and turned away, joining Ginny in the living room. She gave me an uncertain glance then turned to her fiancé with a questioning look. He bent over to whisper something in her ear and I got bored with the interaction so I turned my back to them. I peered down into the glass, debating whether to consume its content or not. I'd never really drank much alcohol, one drink here and there, but I mostly kept to butterbeer. I'd been rational my whole life and it hadn't brought be anything but pain.

With one swift motion, I raised the glass to my lips, dipped my head back, and emptied it.

It burned my throat as it went down and my lips formed a 'o' as I blew some air out, then slammed the glass down on the small table next to me.

'Hermione, are you ok?'

I whipped my head around to look at Ginny, and rolled my eyes. 'I'm marvellous. Will you mind your own business?'

I caught a glance of the redhead staring after me with her mouth open as I walked past her and headed for the bottle of fire whiskey Malfoy had taken with him. I poured myself another drink as the Slytherin looked on with a sly grin and downed it as well.

'You and I will be having a grand time tonight, Granger.'

I rubbed my burning eyes and sighed, then put my glasses back on to attempt one more time to focus on the pages of paper displayed in front of me. I hadn't slept in a long time and I was truly starting to feel it. I'd fled the flat almost immediately after Hermione had left and I'd locked myself in my office, where I'd been since. Almost 24 hours.

I simply couldn't face her now and I sure as hell didn't want to have to endure Ron's presence. I'd considered going after her, but I knew it wasn't wise, not with the things she'd said. I'd never seen her so upset or angry. Locked away in here, I'd be missing Sirius' party, but I probably wouldn't have been able to attend it anyway, considering the amount of work I had to put in before I had to leave.

The problem was, I could hardly think of anything besides Hermione. How had I made such a mess of things? I wasn't sure what I had said exactly, what words had sparked her reaction, but I knew that I couldn't leave things like this. But would it really be better to tell her the truth and then simply leave, possibly for a couple of months? Would she even be willing to hear it?

'Harry?' Ginny's voice suddenly called from the fireplace, startling me so much that I overturned my ink pot. A frown creasing my brow, I pushed my chair back and got up, before dropping on my knees in front of the fireplace.

'Ginny?'

'Harry! I'm so glad I finally found you. I think you'd better come...' Ginny continued, looking rather relieved. I felt my stomach sink, imagining the worst possible scenarios, but I tried to concentrate on my breathing, doing my best to remain calm.

'What's wrong?'

There seemed to be some commotion on Ginny's side and she momentarily turned away from the fire, making me groan. Eagerly, I called out for her and she returned, seemingly a bit less nervous and actually amused.

'It's Hermione. She's completely drunk.'

Author's Note: For those of you who think that Hermione's reaction was a bit extreme and omitted some facts she herself had discovered (like the way he looked at her in the Pensieve, etc), I just have to say that even the most rational girls see their logic fly out the window when they're kissed by a guy they've just found out they're madly in love with and he tells them he's not in love, especially if said guy happens to be their best friend. But because it's our Hermione and because logic is an integral part of her, you will see her think back on those things in the next chapter. You will see the best display of logic ever: drunk logic! And for those of you who think that Harry had a weak reaction, you just have to realize that he feels squeezed. He's leaving, he doesn't want to just drop the bomb on her and leave but the situation just Hiroshima-ed in his face (too much history, not good for the brain - that was just meant to say that it made a terrible, terrible mess, like a nuclear bomb - and wasn't intended to be disrespectful, so, sorry if somebody feels it is).

Now, I solemnly swear that I will write the next part quickly. (as in, less than a week)