Relatively short chaptered fic. When both Harry and Hermione find themselves trapped and - more importantly - alone; they find themselves craving for each other. And, in a way, succeed.
From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/5570/
Grace under Pressure
Summary:
Relatively short chaptered fic. When both Harry and Hermione find themselves trapped and - more importantly - alone; they find themselves craving for each other. And, in a way, succeed.
Disclaimer:
Everything concerning Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I, Runningidiot, own nothing from this story, and do not plan on making any sort of profit by selling. I do not intend to make a mockery of the epic tale of Harry James Potter, but I continue to write H.P fanfiction for the mere enjoyment of it. The title of this fic (Grace under Pressure) does not belong to me either, but the excellent writers/creators of the sci-fi hit Stargate: Atlantis. This fic is actually based off of one of the most recent episodes I viewed.
Rating:
It stands at Pg.
Author's Note:
As I said in the disclaimer, the idea of this is based off of one of my favourite Stargate: Atlantis episodes. Enjoy knowing that this fic has been swimming through my head ceaselessly. Oh, just to warn you, there is some minor R/Hr and H/G in the beginning, just because this fic starts off where HBP ended.
Chapter One:
New Revelations
The rather obvious absence of a few, rather keystone, people at the school of Hogwarts made it even more depressing to come back to for Harry Potter. As he stepped out of the threshold of the Thestral drawn carriage, he couldn't help but sigh deeply. Every year before then the many flickering lights around the castle, the joyful sounds of other students and even Peeves's uncommon appearance before the feast contributed to the magnificence of the school.
Harry stepped forward, no longer feeling awed by the appearance of the magical building. The Boy-who-lived pondered by himself as his two best friends, Ron and Hermione marvelled at the castle as Harry had not done, with their hands entwined. The Boy-who-lived shook his head, effortlessly trying to clear them from his mind, the entire summer had been rather dull, having spent it rather alone, with only one of his friends ever pestering him.
The protagonist shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling rather enraged at Hermione, who had managed to convince him to return to Hogwarts for their final year. Harry couldn't help but feel that he would be serving much more outside of the school, searching for the many Horcruxes.
How had Hermione Granger convinced the stubborn Harry Potter? She had promised him that they would concentrate on researching the Dark Horcruxes while they weren't studying for the next test or completing the latest essay. In addition, seventh years - like sixths - had a spare period and they could use that to study as well. Also, Harry and Hermione were both awarded the titles of Head Boy and Head Girl respectively during the summer which they both accepted.
Truthfully, Harry did not understand why he was elected as the Head Boy when he wasn't a Prefect, but McGonagall also added a post script at the end of the letter.
It's what Albus wanted.
For the rest of the day, Harry lay in his rather rugged bed within the Weasley's home. It seemed that the death of the legendary Albus Dumbledore had finally started to sink in and stay in. As soon as Harry entered the Dursley residence at the beginning of the summer holidays, he refused to believe that he was dead, and he would send a letter via a flying penguin, saying that he was currently residing in the northern artic region and the Dumbledore that died trying to gain a Horcrux was merely a beggar who was fed a heavy dosage of Polyjuice Potion.
Soon thereafter, Harry found himself facing a distressed Hermione Granger, gripping her boyfriend's hand rather tightly as she dragged him up the stairs to the room which Harry shared with his best friend. They continued to beg him to come back to Hogwarts, actually, a more precise term would be she continued to beg him to come back to Hogwarts; Ron stood out of the way for the few days and said absolutely nothing about the subject until after the Boy-who-lived's birthday, in which Hermione had finally managed to convince him.
Harry yawned loudly as he entered the Entrance Hall, his two friends following while talking loudly.
“Who'd you think the Defence against the Dark Arts professor will be?”
Hermione answered immediately, lightly drumming her fingers on the back of Ron's hand. “How can we know? I mean, it's not like he or she's shown up. What I'm more curious about is whether or not Professor McGonagall will continue to teach Transfiguration!”
Ron rolled his eyes in response, muttering something like hypocrite before letting go of her hand and walking over to Harry with Hermione on his heels looking somewhat depressed. “What'd you reckon about Hagrid?” The Boy-who-lived shrugged in response as they passed the threshold that marked the connection between the Great Hall and the Entrance Hall. Hermione had actually informed the both of them on the train ride here, that Hagrid - the Wizard who had introduced Harry to the Wizarding World - had disappeared.
“Probably doing something for the Order,” Harry mumbled distractingly. Of course, he was saddened by the distance that had become rather apparent between himself and Hagrid. He felt guilty for letting this distance continue during his previous year, when they had not spoken very commonly. Harry Potter regretted the facts deeply, for it was the half-Giant himself that introduced him to the Wizarding world and its amazing number of wonders and mysteries. Ron nodded, then noticed someone near the familiar Cho Chang at the Ravenclaw table and departed immediately.
Harry found himself eying Cho Chang's presence; who was alone at the end closest to Harry of her table. She tilted her neck and established a slight form of eye contact. Both of them turned elsewhere immediately, though Harry couldn't help but wonder why she was still here.
“Cho failed most of her N.E.W.Ts last year,” Hermione Granger answered The Boy-who-lived's unspoken inquiry. Harry turned to her as soon as she spoke and saw her, not looking at him, but at Ron. Who was speaking to - what appeared to be - a random Ravenclaw student.
Hermione turned fully to Harry, no doubt trying to block out the image of Ron and the Ravenclaw from her mind. “It isn't that surprising you know. After you two, er - you know …”she left her sentence hanging and Harry shrugged nonchalantly, starting to walk toward the empty side of the Gryffindor table.
“She wasn't exactly cheerful.” Harry stated simply as he seated himself on the side nearest to the wall so that he had a full view of the staff's table without having to strain his neck turning around. Hermione placed herself next to Harry, no doubt thinking the same thing.
“So was Ginny an improvement?” The curious girl inquired and Harry, yet again, shrugged.
“Sorta I suppose.” He answered honestly, unconsciously watching the Ravenclaw girl giggle while Ron waved one of Fred and George's fake wands around aimlessly. Harry turned his gaze away from the rather immature display, and found Hermione watching him with a curious glint in her chocolate brown eyes. “I mean, we don't usually…”
“Usually…?” Hermione prompted, just as the Great Hall doors burst open and someone rather familiar stepped through the threshold. “Ooooh, TONKS!”
Harry's insides did a double take at the newcomer, someone else from the Order! At Hogwarts, and teaching!
The Boy-who-lived rose from his seat, not caring that hundreds of other students were watching him at the very moment. “Tonks!” He cried out and she smiled widely, waving.
“Wotcher, Harry! Wotcher, Hermione!” She yelled cheerfully, Harry noticed Hermione was standing right beside him, grinning widely, seemingly forgetting about Ron's “betrayal”. “Got the job! Scrimy's not as bad as he seems!” She continued to smile widely as she led dishevelled first years across the, constantly muttering, hall.
As Harry fell back into his seat, he couldn't but think, “Scrimy?” Hermione was giggling rather prominently, and Harry eyed her with raised eyebrows.
“She must mean Rufus Scrimgeour!” She exclaimed, continuing to giggle. “Amazingly creative isn't it? I can tell this'll be a fun year.”
Harry nodded in agreement, watching Tonks wave her wand and a scroll appeared in front of her out of thin air, she caught it easily and began reading it. Harry peered at the first years, noting how awed they looked from seeing magic for - most likely - their first time. He felt a grin creep up on his face, remembering how he felt in his first year of Hogwarts, and how he was thinking that he would have to fight a troll or some creature to determine where he was going to be placed.
“Did you two see Tonks?” Harry turned away from the disjointed first years and saw Ron seating himself across from Hermione and him. The Boy-who-lived rotated his head slightly so that he could see - out of the corner of his eye - Hermione's eyes narrow significantly.
“Yes, Won Won, we saw her.” Hermione said seething, resurrecting Lavender Brown's nickname for Ron. The red haired boy cocked his head slightly, no doubt confused why Hermione would call him that.
Though a new voice entered the conversation, the familiar - and long unheard of - cheerful tone of Nymphadora Tonks, “so all you've got to do is stick this hat; which is older than any of us, so watch out for the spiders crawling around in it.” A river of shivers seemingly swept through all of the first year students. Tonks continued as if she had said nothing remotely odd. “And the hat will cry out your house, you are to make your way to the correct table after that. Ready?”
A tentative murmur came from the crowd in front of her and Tonks smiled widely. “Don't worry `bout it. First up is Miranda Anholt. Oh, I've met your father dear.” She added as the long, dirty blonde, haired girl stepped up toward the stool with the tattered hat resting on it. “Got splinched in his first attempt at Apparating,” the small girl trembled as she sat on the stool and placed the hat on her head.
“That night...” Harry looked up to see who had mumbled that, but only saw Hermione, staring fixed at the ground, no doubt biting her teeth. Was this the first time in recorded history that she wasn't paying attention to a Sorting Ceremony? Harry shook his head, probably his imagination, he watched as the Sorting hat seemed to shiver over Anholt's head.
A long, silent, moment passed by, ending only when the hat cried out “HUFFLEPUFF!” Miranda Anholt then dashed off toward the table closest to the current table Harry and his friends were seated at. More students filed up, looking rather scared at the fact that they were sitting in front of hundreds of other students with a large hat on their head.
A long moment of silence between the three friends went by before anyone said anything. “You know,” Hermione said, not looking at either of her friends. “The Sorting hat didn't sing a song this time.” Harry stared at her perplexed, but - after racking his brains for the solution - found no remembrance of any song this year.
“Wonder why,” Harry replied, sounding distracted, and it wasn't surprising seeing as Ginny was chatting animatedly with “Cormac McLaggen” he thought, seething. The ex-keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team seemed to be boasting about something.
Harry found himself disliking him even more when his voice became audible once Harry shifted over slightly. He noticed Hermione stir, no doubt noticing his abrupt movement. “… than Weasley anyway,” he heard him say.
“You do know,” Ginny said, sounding rather annoying. “That you're talking about my brother right?” Harry caught the red haired girl's eye and she rolled her eyes, smiling widely.
“He's such a sloppy player though! He gets nervous by the littlest of things!” McLaggen continued. “I mean, you rememb-” but none of the eavesdroppers would know what they remembered, for Harry had pulled out his wand and hexed the loud mouthed Gryffindor before he got the chance to say anything more. But, to the attacker's surprise, Hermione Granger also had her wand out.
“That's interesting,” it sounded more like “that's intresting” and Harry could understand why. The McLaggen lying, crumbled, on the stone floor had no resemblance to the McLaggen who was sitting in the chair one moment ago. His hair was replaced with - what looked like - flexible bamboo and his skin seemed to glow an eerie pale green colour. His flesh was rather fat appearing, as if he were suddenly filled with a large amount of air, expanding every thing in him. Now he resembled a vegetable more than an actual person.
“Mr. Potter!” Harry froze, realizing he had just hexed the jerk right in the middle of the Sorting ceremony. Indeed, the current first year - Harry wasn't exactly sure of his name - was staring aghast at him, the sorting hat dangling in his hand. He noticed McGonagall, the current Headmistress towering above all the other staff members, her wrinkled expression mangled with fury. “I thought the title of Head Boy might have banished these ... these occurrences away, but alas. It appears as though you are indeed your father's son.”
Harry stared at her blankly, not knowing what to say. He finally opened his mouth to apologize, but only finding garbled sounds falling off his tongue. Hermione looked even more uncomfortable, her gaze was still on McLaggen's corpse, but her eyes shone with guilt. She jumped in surprised when McGonagall spoke again, this time to her. “And Mrs. Granger, I thought you would be able to control both Potter and his friend Weasley! Make your way to my office, we shall continue this privately.”
Fuming, she made her way down from the staff table and Harry gave Hermione one last, guilty, look which she returned before setting off out of the Great Hall, every eye in the massive room following their progress.
*
It was actually surprising to both Harry and Hermione that McGonagall didn't yell that much during the brief meeting. Though, truthfully, both of the Gryffindors were extremely fascinated with the floor. They had received a shared detention which was scheduled for the weekend, which involved travelling to the nearby village of Hogsmeade. More detail than that was not given to either of them, but they nodded understandably and departed from the office in low spirits.
Harry glanced over to one of his best friend, who was looking worse than ever.
“Detention …” she said hollowly as they passed a portrait of two Trolls attempting to swim across a vast lake. “Detention …”
Harry shrugged uncaringly watching the Trolls with mild interest. “Could be worse,” he said simply.
“Oh, really?” The Muggle-born girl said fuming profoundly, one of the Trolls had sunk beneath the surface and his partner dove down in an attempt to save his friend.
The Boy-who-lived turned to her with a sidelong smile, away from the interesting scene of companionship between the Trolls. “Yeah, as you put it in our first year.” He cleared his throat, and then attempted to mimic a young girl's voice, sounding rather innocent and immature. “WE COULD HAVE DIED! OR WORSE, WE COULD HAVE BEEN EXPELLED!”
Hermione actually burst out laughing at this comment, to the surprise of Harry Potter, who actually had to stop to let Hermione take a breath before continuing on to their pursuit for the Gryffindor common room.
“Yeah,” the brown haired girl said distantly. “You're right; a detention's not so bad. Besides, we actually get to go to Hogsmeade without any of the other students!” The familiar smile appeared, her bright white teeth glinting in the limited moonlight seeping through the canopy windows.
Harry raised his eyebrows at her. “And that matters?” Hermione huffed indignantly.
“Yes, it does! No … no more annoying people; like, like … you know.” Hermione mumbled the next part rather quickly. “Ron or - or Luna.” Harry's eyebrows zoomed upward in his long, messy, hair, he halted and Hermione seemed to mimic him, but looked at the floor rather than - what Harry was doing and - staring at the other occupant of the hall.
“Luna … yeah, Luna I can understand.” Harry said slowly. “B-but Wo - I mean, Ron? I mean, aren't you two … you know …”
“A couple?” Hermione suggested, and the acclaimed Chosen One nodded agreeably. “Yeah, yeah I guess we are. But, Harry isn't this the worst possible time for any sort of relationship?”
Harry shrugged, beginning to walk onward down the hall. Hermione matched his steps easily; falling into step beside him within moments. “I'd think it's one of the best.” He replied, absently placing his two hands in their respective pockets. He halted once they approached a nearby window which overlooked the blackened grounds of Hogwarts. Harry noted that the fires in Hagrid's house were not lit.
“One … One of the best, Harry?” Hermione said confused and Harry heaved, what sounded like, a sigh.
The Boy-who-lived turned his head only to her, so that the Muggle-born girl could only see one of his two emerald eyes. “Yeah, I mean, like Dumbledore said. I'm Voldemort's … what's that called?” He looked at the floor in wonderment, and then the term hit him in a matter of seconds. “Arch rival. Yeah, I'm his arch rival because I am … I am capable of love.” He said immediately turning his gaze back to the unclear grounds of Hogwarts.
“What he means is; you're human.” Said Hermione; moving herself next to Harry, leaning on the sill of the window and absently crossing her arms across her chest. Harry turned to her, looking rather bemused and she stuttered under his gaze. “I - I mean, V-Voldemort's beyond human capabilities, isn't he?” Harry shrugged, turning away from her.
“We should be going.” Harry stated, trotting away from the window rather speedily. Hermione jumped in surprise, no doubt wondering why Harry was acting so uncomfortable with the current conflict, and had to rush to catch up to her friend.
*
Hermione Granger couldn't help but realize how beautiful the British landscape was as she gazed at the many rolling hills and majestic mountain sides through the simple window in the current Hogwarts Express compartment she was seated in. The Muggle-born girl relaxed in her seat, a comforting sigh escaping the small gap between her slightly chapped lips. The other, rather obvious, fact that seeming dwelt within the Know-it-all's mind was that she actually didn't have a book to read at the moment. And if she did, she would undoubtedly find herself unable to soak in any information from it.
The Muggle-born girl had decided upon arriving at the magnificent station that she would spend the last trip to Hogwarts without her nose in a random book. Though she didn't have to promise herself not to do that, since the death of Dumbledore, the usually hard-headed Hermione Granger had turned into a sloppy, mindless, clueless...
“Are you alright?” Hermione was startled by the sudden concerned tone of her boyfriend, Ronald Weasley. “You look kinda … dazed.” He finished, finding the most appropriate word.
Hermione shook her head and raised her hands dismissively. “Just thinking, don't worry about me.” She attempted to smile, finding herself eying an even more dazed looking Harry Potter on the other side of the compartment. As soon as he noticed the Know-it-all peering at him; Hermione's gaze moved back to Ron's.
Hermione turned herself away from the lost Ron Weasley. The summer took a great toll on her morale, for not only had Harry been very troublesome during the usually festive holidays by acting rather pessimistic, Ron was amazingly blissful, passing a moth-eaten Quaffle between himself and his sister. Though, this determination to get better at Quiddtich allowed Hermione to spend more and more time with the Boy-who-lived.
All Hermione had determined was that he was a brick wall with flesh. Usually, Harry would spill out his thoughts and concerns (Hermione remembered, feeling extremely guilty, about his suspicions of Draco Malfoy which had proven to be true in the end) all year around. Now, he was shutting himself up in the small room he shared with Ron.
Harry was frustrating the Muggle-born girl beyond comprehension, he wanted to go find all of the Horcruxes, but had to wait till his seventeenth birthday arrived, so he sat in the small room, eating mere scraps of dinner and lunch to Mrs. Weasley's utter dismay, for four weeks until his birthday came and went. The following day, Harry picked up his wand, left his school work unfinished, his owl uncared more and - more importantly - Hermione and Ron, and left for the Riddle house.
The soft light projecting from the morning sun actually blinded Hermione Granger has she had dashed out of the Burrow for Harry, who was stomping - rather determinedly - along the roadside. How Hermione managed to convince the brick wall to stay behind and actually plan before running off aimlessly was beyond her, but she had done it, and - rather grumpily - Harry returned to the Burrow.
Hermione was pleased that the Boy-who-lived was a lot more pleasant for the rest of the holidays, and she was glad to say that she enjoyed all of August, even more when she learnt that Harry and her were to be Head Boy and Head Girl respectively that year.
“That'll give us both time and an excuse to research, you know.” Hermione said to him while he was staring, amazed, at his gold badge.
“It's just like my father.” He said softly, lowering his hand and smiling - for the first time that summer - at Hermione. “He wasn't a Prefect, but turned out to be Head Boy.” His smile widened, glad that he had finally come to grips with his father.
Hermione noticed the note that had accompanied the badge and found it identical to her own, except for the post script.
It's what Albus wanted.
The Muggle-born girl found a smile creeping up on her own expression; surprised that she was feeling quite thankful for Harry earning the very respectable title rather than his best friend.
“And your boyfriend,” Hermione reminded herself indignantly, though Hermione couldn't hide the thankful feeling from herself. With Ron, she would probably spend more time snogging than actually working on something productive. “Not that you would mind snogging all those hours away.”
“You know what happened to Hagrid?” Harry asked no one in particular (he wasn't even looking at anything, his eyes were shut - shielding the magnificent emerald eyes from the world), for once: he was breaking the silence!
“Yeah,” Hermione said softly. “Yeah, I read in the Daily Prophet awhile back that he had run from Hogwarts, he even killed Fang and buried him.” Ron looked horrified, staring aghast at Hermione.
“No, way! He couldn't have!”
“I know; it doesn't seem like him does it?” Hermione mumbled. And when no reply came from either of her friends, she continued. “Well, we know the Daily Prophet's rather good at lying isn't it? Hagrid could still be at Hogwarts right now!”
Harry shrugged, but made no verbal reply. The Boy-who-lived turned his gaze elsewhere, no doubt wanting to be anywhere but here. Hermione sighed sounding rather defeated.
The rest of the trip passed without much accomplishment, Ron challenged the two of them to a game of Chess in which Harry and Hermione would be teamed up against the “master” of Wizard Chess. They accepted, ending up nearly victorious with a combination of Harry's reckless behaviour - that usually ends up with a couple of deaths on their side rather than Ron's - and Hermione's cautious, yet strategic, approach to the game.
Though as Hermione changed into her robes in the girl's washroom at the back of the train, she couldn't help but smile widely at the fact that she had spent all of that time without her nose in a random book. Though nothing productive came from this encounter, the Muggle-born girl found herself whistling an unfamiliar tune as she waltzed back to her friends.
“Someone's cheerful.” Harry observed, sounding rather blunt. Hermione found her smile widening as she seated herself next to the depressed Chosen One.
“What's the point in being all depressed?” She said slyly. “You know we could enjoy our last year as much as possible and have a great time with it, or we could sit around; acting stupidly depressed and have a horrible year.”
Ron nodded encouragingly. “Hermione's got it right. Who wants a game of exploding snap?” And so the rest of the trip passed by attempting, one last time, to build a sky high card house, only to have it ruined by some random passer by.
Hermione actually got rather enraged at the random kid, and dashed after the kid, scolding him like she had never done to anyone before. When she returned to her friends amazed looks, she stated - rather simply - “he ruined our last ride, he deserves at least some scolding doesn't he?” The amazed looks on both Harry and Ron turned into snide smiles, they each hugged Hermione (Ron gave her a peek on her cheek as well) and heard the whistle sounding the stop at Hogsmeade Station.
Soon Hermione found herself in the Great Hall, watching Ron dash off to the Ravenclaw table to pester his pen pal - Hermione scoffed at the sight of a short, second year, girl with long black hair - she also noticed Harry's observing eyes catch those of Cho Chang's.
“Cho failed most of her N.E.W.Ts last year,” remembering the never ending cries of despair from a secluded cubicle in the girl's washroom on the fifth floor. Harry turned to her, looking rather sharp. She mirrored his move, “it isn't that surprising you know. After you two, er - you know …” she left her sentence hanging, Harry seemed to snort subconsciously, then depart towards the Gryffindor table.
“She wasn't exactly cheerful.” He said, seating himself at the side closest to the wall so that he was facing the staff table. Hermione seated herself next to him, watching Harry's expression as he scanned the elevated staff table.
Hermione found her mouth opening automatically to ask the question she had been begging to ask for centuries. “So was Ginny an improvement?” The question had been nagging her for the longest time, she was concerned for her friend's wellbeing, and even if she couldn't make him happy through love, Hermione hoped that someone else could.
“Sorta I suppose.” Hermione found herself eying Won won's (her eyes narrowed at the mention of the acclaimed nickname) pen pal, who was giggling madly at some immature enactment of Ronald Weasley. I opened my mouth the reply, but Harry kept talking, turning his head away from Ron's immaturity and to me. “I mean, we don't usually...”
I raised my eyebrows after a long moment of silence between the two of us. The rest of the Great Hall was blissfully chattering about the summer holidays and what it brought about. “Usually...?” Though my prompting was cut off by the entrance of someone very unexpected. “Ooooh, TONKS!” Hermione shrieked, rising to greet her.
“Wotcher, Harry! Wotcher, Hermione!” She waved her entire arm in a greeting, Hermione distinctly noticed that Harry was also standing next to her, greeting her in a similar manner. The Know-it-all also knew, for a fact, that he was thinking the same thing.
Another Order member at Hogwarts, maybe - just maybe - the Order still had a chance even without the highly acclaimed Albus Dumbledore. Ron's return to the Gryffindor table brought some spite out of Hermione, but nothing she couldn't overcome with a slightly fake smile aimed at Ronald Weasley. She had also giggled at Tonks's nickname for the recently elected Minister of Magic.
The Sorting ceremony passed by without much incident, she had even enjoyed it much more than the rest of the Sorting Ceremonies she had been present at because of Tonks's humorous commentary, that is, until the biggest oaf in the world started to debate about the most important thing in the world. Quidditch.
Hermione didn't despise Quidditch, she loved the sport. She adored watching Harry flying through the air, his hair becoming even more tousled than usual because of the high speed winds pressing against him, effortlessly trying to catch the small Golden Snitch. And when Ron joined the ranks of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Hermione felt glad and warm inside. It was Ron's dream to become a star Quidditch player, he had told her so on that night.
“That night...” She found herself staring at the ground, deep in thought. She noticed Harry's curious glance, but paid it no mind. She was thinking of her sixth year, the previous year, in which she had found her love. Ron Weasley.
Apparently it was obvious to the rest of their grade, but Hermione found the whole thing rather sudden. She had always felt uncomfortable around the red haired boy, but - at the start of the year - she found herself watching him absently. She found herself trying to remember all the times they had spent together, alone, while Harry was off doing Merlin knows what. It was odd, most - if not all - of her memories of Hogwarts contained Harry and Ron, or just Harry. Never Ron alone, Hermione blamed the fact that they were always arguing about the littlest of things during those times. Though, the only Hogwarts memory that didn't involve Harry, when Ron had been poisoned, the things he had said to me, how he had developed feelings for me. I couldn't help but cry on him and wrap my arms around him, telling him that she possessed feelings for him as well.
“You're going to fast…” Hermione ignored the voice inside of her head as she curled her right hand into a fist, wanting to get away from the dear memories; she looked up at Ron, who was staring - half asleep - at the Sorting Hat. Smiling slightly, she gasped at her realization.
“You know,” Hermione said, not looking at either of her friends, but at the hat. “The Sorting hat didn't sing a song this time.” Hermione noticed the Boy-who-lived staring at her, looking rather perplexed.
“Wonder why.” The Know-it-all noticed Harry's gaze wasn't fixed on her, but rather, at Ginny, who was speaking to a certain “Cormac McLaggen.” Hermione cringed at the mere mention of his name within her mind.
Before she knew it, she was on her feet, her wand in hand. She had heard the insults spewing out of his mouth, directed at whomever; she didn't care. She had had enough of him; this was her way of banishing him out of her mind.
He was on the floor the next second, Hermione noted the presence of Harry beside her, his wand also in hand. She didn't need to hear McGonagall's howls from the Staff table to know what had happened.
Undoubtedly, she had earned a detention, along with Harry.
-->
Grace under Pressure
Summary:
Relatively short chaptered fic. When both Harry and Hermione find themselves trapped and - more importantly - alone; they find themselves craving for each other. And, in a way, succeed.
Disclaimer:
Everything concerning Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I, Runningidiot, own nothing from this story, and do not plan on making any sort of profit by selling. I do not intend to make a mockery of the epic tale of Harry James Potter, but I continue to write H.P fanfiction for the mere enjoyment of it. The title of this fic (Grace under Pressure) does not belong to me either, but the excellent writers/creators of the sci-fi hit Stargate: Atlantis. This fic is actually based off of one of the most recent episodes I viewed.
Rating:
It stands at Pg.
Author's Note:
Here it is. The second chapter! Sorry about the amount of time it took for this one to come out, but I've been kinda busy with school and such. I'm also going to apologize in advance for this chapter, since NOTHING happens in it.
I'm kidding. Heh … heh.
Harry and Hermione will be pushed to centre stage in this chapter, and we'll also see some developments stirring, even though both Harry and Hermione should be thinking about someone else in their life.
Enjoy!
Chapter Two:
The Board is Set…
Saturday came too quickly for Hermione, she found herself waking up, but refusing to do so as she wiggled around in her comfortable four-poster bed; trying to find a cosy position that could grant her the slumber she lusted for. The weekend had started, and that meant most of Hogwart's population was sleeping in, leaving the hallways deserted, though Filch was undoubtedly scurrying through the many passageways in his never ending pursuit of Peeves's righteous punishment.
Finding no slumber coming, Hermione Granger rose from her bed, rubbing the restlessness residue from her brown eyes. With a sigh escaping the narrow passageway between her rose coloured lips, Hermione quickly changed - noticing her three roommates all sleeping, each one smiling widely - and left for breakfast.
As the Muggle-born girl travelled down the winding stairs of the girl's dormitory, her footsteps echoed all around her, no doubt alerting any Death Eaters awaiting the first girl to come down the staircase in order to ambush her for some reason.
“Probably some fun for one night. Then they would kill me.” Hermione thought sourly, knowing that they would ditch her because she was - what they called - a Mudblood. She found herself not caring, her friends accepted her for who she was, she had found some love in the world from her boyfriend, her parents and Harry.
Harry. His name seemed to stay within Hermione's mind at all times, wondering how he was coping with this or that, or if he was happy with Ginny.
Hermione shook her head in an attempt to clear the name from her mind; she found it odd to be thinking of another boy than Ron. She felt guilty that she never really thought about Ron the way that she had dreamed of Har…
“That was the past.” The Know-it-all said to herself firmly, the embers from the nearby fireplace crackling as if in response to her statement.
“Oh really,” Hermione wheeled around to see no one. She indistinctively drew her wand, which she had always kept with her - even when she was sleeping - since the end of their fifth year.
“Now I'm turning insane.” Hermione thought as she lowered her wand. All the young woman could see was an open window - a slight autumn breeze flowing through the drapes - and a darkened staircase leading up to the girl's dormitory. She sighed quite deeply, sheathed her wand and departed for the Great Hall; in which she would indulge herself in a hearty breakfast.
As Hermione descended the many levels of the massive castle, she found her thoughts were still centred on Harry Potter. She felt concerned about his fate; about how he wished to be elsewhere, searching for the Horcruxes. Hermione could see it as soon as they entered their first class, Charms was usually entertaining, yet Harry made it rather depressing. He refused to take notes and speak at all, expect when they were practicing a spell.
Hermione had noticed a dramatic improvement in his spell casting abilities, even though he wrote down any notes, he had still performed the Protean Charm relatively well for a first time, while Ron only made his small rock squirm slightly. The only way Hermione was able to perform it flawlessly was because she had previously performed it during her fifth year for the secret society known as Dumbledore's Army.
And so it was that Hermione ended up in the Great Hall at ten past eleven, the usual chit chat that accompanied the entrance to the massive cafeteria like room was absent, since most of the occupants who contributed to the level of noise were not present, but happily dreaming.
“How I wish I could be one of them too.” Hermione thought sourly as she sat at the Gryffindor table all alone, helping herself to some of the breakfast present. She looked around in search of something to occupy her eyesight, normally the owls bringing the morning post proved adequate, but Wizarding post (via owls) was cancelled on weekends except for in school postage. Though, even on weekdays the normal chaos that accompanies the post owls flying into the Great Hall, delivering whatever, has lessened dramatically. This could mean two things, people aren't sending letters, or there were less people to send letters to.
“Could be both too,” She thought taking a bite out of her already buttered toast.
“Up already?” Hermione choked on her saliva covered toast slightly (how she did that was beyond her) as she looked up to see Harry Potter smiling slightly at her, his small bag dangling off one shoulder. He seated himself across from her, brought his plate closer and filled his goblet with some orange juice.
“Mm-hmm,” The brown haired girl replied, swallowing her toast. “Though it's not that early, you do know our detention's today right?”
Harry snorted slightly, filling up his plate with normal breakfast cuisine. “How could I forget? Hopefully it's not like the past ones I've been to.” He held up his right hand, showing Hermione the back of it. There - as if etched in with fingernails - read I must not tell lies.
“She was awful.” She was, of course, referring to their ex-Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Dolores Umbridge. “Dreadful, horrific, mindless….” Hermione trailed off, shaking her head in dismay.
“Ran out of synonyms?” Harry smiled, a piece of bacon dangling from his mouth. Hermione snorted in reply while he laughed openly.
Hermione finished the remainder of her meal relatively quickly, but stayed with Harry and continued to discuss the many possibilities of what this detention could bring them. First Harry had suggested it was a search for Hagrid, though Hermione had scoffed at that saying that they were far too young to be dealing with that.
Harry crossed his arms defiantly. “I was going to be searching for the Horcruxes right now, Hagrid's huge! He'll be far easier to find.” Harry gave her a sidelong smile, signalling that he meant no offence, or - at least - Hermione hoped it meant that.
As Harry stabbed a sausage with his fork; Hermione's eyes followed, halting when the silver pierced the juicy meat. She found her eyes automatically travelling up his arm, studying his lazy - yet oddly relaxed - sitting posture and eventually reached his face, finding his eyes looking right into hers. Hermione jumped slightly, though didn't release eye contact.
It was odd, to say the least, to just stare at someone staring back at you for around a minute, not once darting away in embarrassment. They just lost themselves within the pools of colour. Though the hammering-like noise that signalled an hour had passed reached their ears, their bodies refused to move; though when it struck twelve times, they both scurried out of the Great Hall and out of the castle, running to the Iron Gate that led to Hogsmeade.
Reaching the entrance to the magnificent village in under a minute was breathtaking for the inexperienced athlete Hermione, while her friend - who has endured hours of multiple Quidditch practices - was still standing straight, his hand gripping something in his right pocket.
“Wands out you reckon?” Harry said, taking out what he was gripping so tightly.
“Good idea.” Hermione breathed, taking out her wand, nowadays, anywhere was unsafe. A wand - no matter the condition - was a necessity.
“'Ey Harry?” A voice called out, from somewhere near them. Hermione caught sight of the familiar Nymphadora Tonks approaching them with a smile - or at least, Hermione thought it was one; she couldn't tell from this distance - on her face.
“Tonks?” Hermione said incredulously. “You're supervising us?” Maybe this detention wouldn't be so bad with her around to bring up their morale. Though, to both Harry's and Hermione's utter disappointment, she shook her head.
“Nah, just here to escort you to Rosmerta; I'll warn you both now, she's acting rightly perky. Two of the best Hogwarts students, helping her with her restaurant, it's all just beyond her comprehension.” Tonks sighed, relaxing her tensed position. “Come on you two, I'll take you to her.”
They passed through the streets wordlessly, Harry and Hermione both too upset to say anything, and Tonks was rather busy making sure no one was following them, or making sure she didn't trip on anything. Hermione felt oddly thankful that nothing that resembled a Troll's leg was anywhere near them.
*
The task Rosmerta had set for both Harry and Hermione didn't sound that difficult.
“My basement, which holds the frozen food awaiting their inevitable purpose, has been repeatedly attacked by several … things.” The barmaid said curtly, indicating a dark staircase leading down to the cellar of the Three Broomsticks. “The basement is divided into two sections, which is perfect for the both of you. Split up and find those pesky creatures and deal with them how you see fit.
To Harry Potter, it was drearier than anything. As Hermione and he stepped down the basement stairs, their wands drawn and their eyes darting around the silent area; he couldn't help but want this to end as soon as possible. And could anyone really blame him? On a bright, September, Saturday like this one; he could be practicing Quidditch with Ginny and Ron; he could have been fooling around with Ron while Hermione would nag them to do the week's homework.
The Boy-who-lived involuntarily smiled as he mumbled the essential lighting charm and watched his wand suddenly glow bright green; illuminating the dusty area. He could still hear Rosmerta speaking with their escort, Nymphadora Tonks as his mind continued to wander, and fixate an image of Ron, Hermione and him in the Gryffindor common room, the males playing chess, while the female had her nose in a random textbook, jotting down noteworthy points.
“Where'd we start then?” Hermione asked uneasily as she stepped next to him, waving her lit wand around; looking for anything notable. Harry took in the scene around him; barrels were stacked neatly next to him, one on top of the other making a row of them along the left wall. The ground felt like stone, and, was in fact, made up of a simple lining of stones. Though the barrels had several spider webs doted the rows of barrels, Harry found no interest in them.
“Let's look for the food storage first, maybe we'll get an idea of what we're up against from seeing that.” Hermione nodded understandably.
“Rosmerta said that they were relatively nearby to the entrance.” Hermione said, starting off in the right direction.
Harry stood, puzzled, but followed her anyway. “Rosmerta said that?” Was he really that far from reality right now? Hermione laughed knowingly, glancing at him with a smile.
“Mm-hmm, she did. She also said that we should split up after this since the basement's divided into two sections. I'm assuming we're in one, and this -” she indicated a passageway to their left. “- is the other section, but first.”
“We should find the food storage thingy.” Harry finished for her, thankful that she was keeping his head on the job.
So they went onward, passing more and more rows of irrelevant barrels, the only sounds escaping from them were their feet; scraping against the stone lined ground. Soon enough, they found what they were looking for. Glowing fridge-like things, except for the fact that they were….
“Broken,” Hermione said simply, crouching to examine the bottom of it in which water was leaking through. She hissed involuntarily as she scraped her finger against something sharp and remarked - rather sharply ironically - that there was a large hole at the bottom, seeming dug by something … inhumane.
“What'd you think?” Harry asked her, not having any clue as to what would prey on frozen food. Hermione shrugged, opening the large door to see half of the food either gone or half gone.
Hermione shut the door in disgust, after seeing half of anything left; anyone would most likely feel disgusted, but seeing it frozen made it even more … odd. “Well,” she said finally, but rather reluctantly. “Let's get this over with. I'll take the other side, you can handle this area.”
“Wait,” Harry said as she started to march off, as Hermione turned back to him - looking at him with curiosity brimming within the pleasant pools of her eyes - Harry's heart unwillingly skipped a beat. “Wait, uh - if we find something….”
“Issue some loud noise that'll alert me.” The Muggle-born girl stated simply. “You and Ron have had enough fun with those spells; I suspect you've memorized a couple by now.” Harry felt a smile appear on his face instantly at the thought of the old days with his friends.
How he longed to be with the both of them again…. Acting utterly immature and blissfully, not having a care in the world other than the threat of Lord Voldemort's conquest.
“See you.” Hermione said, waving and bringing Harry from his reverie. Harry found himself waving in reply, not making any verbal noise.
He watched as her honey coloured hair wavered slightly because of the light given off by her wand, but when she disappeared around the corner; her wand light disappearing instantly, Harry found himself still standing on the same spot, staring off at where she had just disappeared.
Clearing his head of these longing thoughts (he noticed how her hair seemed to sparkle when it made contact with the light illuminating from his wand), he blamed them on Ginny, for he had not been with Ginny - snogging or whatever - for the longest time, and he was just noticing the difference in her absence.
And so he started to search the small - crammed - area; looking for anything that might be the cause of shortage of food at the wonderful restaurant; whether it was an animal, a machine or even a deranged human, he did not know. Yet he continued to look.
That's when it all started.
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