Official Fine Print: Nope. Not mine. The brainchildren of the mighty pen of JK Rowling. Just playing with them. Honest.
Here With Me
Chapter 10
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Harry managed to get the tray through the portrait hole without spilling any of the noxious potion but the smell had so sickened him along the way that he was seriously doubting his ability to ingest it at all. The common room was mostly empty; a few sixth and seventh years in scattered in clusters of two or three, talking or studying. Ron and Hermione had left the table and were ensconced on chairs near the fire; Crookshanks curled like an orange cushion next to his mistress. He set the tray down on the table and dropped to the floor near Hermione's feet.
"What did Snape say?" Ron asked.
"I need a keeper."
"He needs some new material, then. Malfoy's been saying that since first year."
Harry sighed. "I mean, I need someone to be my dream keeper. He's made this variant potion that's supposed to stupefy me if Voldemort invades my dreams to possess me. I need someone to direct the spell. He says whoever it is will control when I sleep or wake up, and decide whether or not to release me if I get stupefied."
"Harry, are you barking? You're not going to trust Snape enough to drink that stuff? Even if it's not poisonous, how do you know he'd ever wake you back up? You can't…"
"I have to take it, by midnight, or he's going to make sure I'm locked up somewhere. He's coming for the glasses himself to see I've taken it. He said I could play with the werewolves for all he cares, but my bet is he'd chain me up and give Slytherin the keys if he could. He told me Dumbledore agreed to the potion, so if I have to, I'll take it. The problem is who's going to want to have to be my keeper if I do? I hate it every time Voldemort comes slithering into my head and there's nothing I can do about it, how can I ask…"
"I'll do it," Hermione cut in. She saw the relief in Harry's eyes… and Ron's as well. "What do I need to do?"
"First off, umm, Snape said to spit in the second potion over there."
Hermione wrinkled her nose as she approached the glasses and gave Harry a 'the things I do for you…' look. She crossed her eyes a moment and then spit into the second potion in the most delicate and lady-like manner she could manage. Ron and Harry quickly doused their grins as she turned back around.
"He wrote the spells on that piece of parchment on the tray," Harry told her.
She picked it up and he watched as she read through it. He'd been hoping against hope that she would agree to do it, had instinctively known that Ron would be uncomfortable both with being responsible for him and the possibility of actually seeing Voldemort in his eyes.
Harry believed that Ron was far braver at heart than he knew, but there were layers of fear laid down by growing up wizard that Harry and Hermione had taken on only later, when fear was subject to conviction as much as instinct. A rather convoluted trail of events over the last five years had brought Harry to the realization that Ron's fear of Voldemort had roots that sunk even deeper than their friendship. Ron always came through at the end, but Harry didn't feel like he could lie trapped in his dreams with Voldemort running rampant through his head while Ron agonized over whether to wake him or not. He didn't blame Ron, but to be completely honest he felt infinitely safer knowing Hermione was to be the one to watch over him. He believed without doubt that she would not allow her own fear to influence her if she could help it; he worried more about her fears for him.
If Hermione had the faith to wake him to deal with Voldemort, however, Ron certainly had the strength to hex the crap out of him if the stupefying effect wasn't working properly. All in all it was a much better balance this way 'round.
"What about the safe word to let me know it's okay to lift the stupefying effect? What do you want to use?" she asked.
"It has to be something simple that he wouldn't recognize as a safe word, something ordinary. I'm trying to keep him away from so much I don't know how to hide anything else. Snape may think my head is empty but it's awfully crowded when you're wrestling Voldemort in it."
"What about Hedwig? He can't be very interested in your owl, can he?" Hermione offered.
"What about Crookshanks? Hedwig can be used for messages but that cat's just bloody useless, there's nothing Voldemort could possibly find interesting about him," Ron suggested.
"What about Ron? As in Ronald Bilius Weasley, unredeemed prat." Hermione countered.
"I was thinking more along the lines of sugar quill or Honeydukes," Harry said. "But you've given me another idea. How about the names of both of my best friends? The ones who never bleeding stop arguing over…"
"Chocolate Frog, then," said Hermione decisively. "Drink the first one Harry, it's almost midnight."
Harry forced himself to pick up the first potion, his stomach churning. He closed his eyes and drank, swallowing as fast and hard as he could. His throat was still somewhat raw from the effects of the Centaur's poison and the potion felt as if it was burning its way through him. Polyjuice would seem like pumpkin juice after this nastiness. He finished, sickened and gasping.
Hermione gave him the parchment. "You say the first bit."
Harry gagged out the words indicating he was the willing caster of the spell and naming Hermione as the one who would watch over his dreams.
"Now you need to drink the second one." Hermione told him.
"Don't know if I can," he groaned.
"Fast is the way," Ron advised. "Down in one."
Harry lifted the glass to his lips, closed his eyes and drank as Hermione began her half of the incantation. It… wasn't half bad? In fact, it tasted kind of sweet, almost vanilla-ish. And there was something else, cinnamon, he thought. Pleasant enough, delicious, even. He finished the whole thing almost without noticing, stared wonderingly at the dregs in the bottom of the tumbler. He'd seen Snape draw them from the same cauldron, the only difference between the two was… Hermione's essence. Her spit, to be exact. Who knew Hermione had such excellent tasting spit? Well, actually, come to think of it, he should have, but … Wow.
"Harry, it's midnight. Didn't you have to give those back to Snape?" Hermione asked, rousing him from his thoughts. He hurriedly set the second glass on the tray and took it to the portrait hole. When he stepped outside Snape was already turning away.
"Professor," Harry called after him, and Snape turned back. Harry thought he looked disappointed. He took the tray from Harry's hands, eyeing him intently.
"Mind you have someone to wake Weasley as well," he said at last. "I wouldn't want you to be late for class tomorrow."
"I… we… unh. We'll be there on time," Harry managed. Snape headed down the stairs in a flourish of robes.
'Why didn't I tell him?' Harry wondered. 'I probably shouldn't have, but I was going to say that it was Hermione, and I… couldn't. Why?'
He turned back toward the Common room.
"Password?" the fat lady asked waspishly, clearly annoyed at this disturbance of her sleep. Her hair was in curlers and some sort of chalky white substance was spread thickly beneath her eyes.
"Oh for god's sake, I haven't been three feet away since I came out!" Harry muttered.
"I've heard all about you, Mister. One minute you're Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, and the next you're He Who Must Not Be Named! I'm taking no chances with you. Password, or no entrance."
"Hurling Hinkypunks. Happy?"
"Delirious," she pronounced sarcastically, and opened to admit him.
He returned to Ron and Hermione, still before the fire. He dropped back down to the floor, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "So what do we do now?" he asked. After a moment when he realized that neither had answered he left off and hurriedly opened his eyes again, finding his two friends silently glaring.
What now?
"Ron and I are just having a little discussion about the best way to handle the logistics of the spell."
"Okay?" Harry said, still unsure of the problem.
"We didn't really think this through when I said I'd direct the spell, Harry, but you and I actually sleep in different dorms, remember? And while I think that Neville and Seamus and Dean could be convinced to cooperate for the sake of peace and safety, Ron here isn't happy about me staying in your room to check on you. What he THOUGHT was going to happen, I don't know. I think he was just so happy that he wasn't going to have to deal with it that he stopped thinking altogether."
That would of course make two of them, because Harry hadn't actually considered how Hermione was going to put him to sleep or wake him up from the girls' dorm either. 'Brilliant, Potter! Wait, did she just say she thought Neville and Seamus and Dean would… '
He looked at Ron.
"All right, it's one thing having the two of you feel the need kiss like dementors if you're going to be out of sight for five minutes, I can deal with that if I have too, I guess, but I didn't know I was going to be signing on for having her as a room mate as well. It's a boys' room, Hermione, where we can do boy stuff without having to explain everything. You're going to start telling us to clean up and make sure our socks get in the laundry and stop talking and go to sleep. And talking? How can we talk about guy stuff with you there? Not just Quidditch, mind you, which you hate, but about… "
"The enemy? Girls? The invaders? Don't tell me you actually talk about us in between Quidditch matches and insulting each other? Afraid I'm going to squeal all your deepest, darkest secrets to the other girls? Like I care, Ron. Grow up."
Ron looked like his head was going to explode.
Harry thought his might have already done, from the feel of it. "Ron, I'm sorry. I didn't exactly think it through, either. Look, I'll go and get my stuff and sleep down here on the sofa, okay? Let's just get through tonight and deal with the rest of it tomorrow. Please?"
Ron rose without a word and collected his book satchel. Harry caught Hermione's eye. "Meet you back here in five?" he mouthed, holding up five fingers questioningly. Her lips were pressed in one grim line, but she nodded and headed off toward the girls stairs. Harry followed Ron up the stairs to their room.
"Look, Ron, I really am sorry about this…"
Ron whirled on him as soon as they'd cleared the door. "Didn't really think this through? DIDN'T REALLY THINK THIS THROUGH? When in Merlin's name has SHE ever not thought something through? She knew exactly what she was doing, Harry."
"You mean agreeing to cope with me when I happen to wake up as a creepy homicidal maniac? I hope so… At least she's dealt with it before."
"No, I mean worming her way in here! She knew exactly what it meant. It's just a perfect excuse to sleep with you every night."
"Whoa," said Seamus. "Who's sleeping with Harry, now?"
"It's not what it…' Harry started.
"Hermione!" Ron turned to Seamus and Dean. Seamus had just returned from a shower and was rummaging through his trunk for pajamas and Dean was sitting on the end of his bed threading a new shoe lace through the holes of his trainers. "She's fixed it so that the only way to keep Voldemort from possessing Harry is her sleeping in here with him!"
Dean looked at Seamus, who grinned back. "She's good, that one. She's finally turned that mind of hers to something worthwhile and come up aces."
Harry gave up and began peeling off his own clothes.
"It's not funny!" Ron insisted. "Think about it! She'll be after you clean up that volcanic pile of crap in the corner, Thomas, and as for you, Finnigan, you've got activities of your own that will need to be left off before she shares with the rest of the school whose name you're gasping out over there."
"On the other hand," Seamus pointed out with a laugh, "if she's to be here, and I'm just guessing this may not be a school-sanctioned activity, what's to stop the rest of us entertaining occasionally?"
"Erm… human decency?" Harry offered pulling a clean t shirt on over his head. "Not to burst your bubble, or anything, but it's not like Ron's making it sound. I've got to use a sleep controlling potion that Snape made up, and Hermione has to be the one to make sure that I wake up without Voldemort in tow, so she has to be there when I fall asleep and wake up. If any of you want to trade places I'm all for it, but since I can't control a single bleeding thing in my life anymore it's not that likely."
"So here's a thought," he said. He slammed the top of his school trunk down and faced them, his expression fierce. "You three might consider thanking her for taking on a job no one else would want and welcome her in here with big smiles and shut mouths if you know what's good for you. Especially you, Seamus, your mum didn't want you to come back last year, if she hears about all this I expect you're right out. The first one of you that says anything out of line to Hermione, or says a word about what she's doing to anyone outside of the four of us or Neville, they'll have to deal with me. And I've learned some hexes in "remedial DADA" that you might want to think long and hard about taking on. Any questions?"
"Harry? I won't say a word. Really. It's fine with me," Neville's voice quavered from behind his bed hangings.
"Sorry Neville. Didn't know you were there. I'll be off, then." Harry went to brush his teeth, leaving stunned silence behind him.
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Hermione was waiting downstairs when he got there. Her hair had been tamed into a night-time braid and she had books and parchment piled and scattered across the floor.
"So it will look like we fell asleep studying if anyone finds us," she explained seriously.
He flopped onto the sofa beside her, exhausted. He couldn't imagine having the energy left to dream tonight. "I think I've fixed it with the rest of them for tomorrow night," he told her.
"You were afraid to tell Ron about us because you thought he was in love with me," she said softly. "The jealousy you forgot was how much he loves you."
"Hermione, I may be dense about a lot of things, but Ron is definitely not… that way."
Hermione rolled her eyes and crawled closer across the sofa. "Not that kind of love, Harry. I mean, you didn't count on how important your friendship is to him. Not just as a part of the three of us, but you and him. I think he's afraid that I'm going to try to take up all your time and attention, to take you away from him."
"You won't, though," Harry said softly. He stopped there, but "will you?" seemed to reverberate between them. They both knew that she probably could.
"I don't want to change you, Harry. Why would I? I love you this way. I didn't look across a crowded room and think, 'hmm, that one's nice.' Not that I wouldn't think that, mind you, but your loyalty to your friends is one of the reasons I came to love you in the first place. Why would I try to wreck it for you and Ron?"
It began to occur to Harry then how lucky he really was, He remembered the feeling he'd had kissing her in the infirmary, the sense of how loving her simplified so many things. One of them was explaining things; he'd never have to take time to explain his friendship with Ron, how torn he'd feel if he had to choose between them. It would happen sooner or later, he did know that, but far later than it would with anyone else and for that he was grateful. He didn't know how long he had left before… He only knew he didn't want to regret, to have wasted it.
He let his head roll toward her against the back of the sofa and met her eyes. "Thank you." His brain enumerated all the things he felt grateful for; agreeing to act as his dream keeper, understanding about Ron, saving his family jewels from Malfoy's wand in the cave, stunning him when he needed to be stunned. For loving him at all, despite his inescapable destiny as Voldemort's plaything. No, his executioner. He had to start believing that, accepting that, if he was promising to love her. Tentatively he gathered all his scattered feelings and cast a mental legilimens. Once connected he was most careful not to intrude, but to pause at the door of her consciousness, as it were, and deposit his feelings of love and gratitude on the mat, knock once, and retreat.
Watching her eyes widen and grow almost opaque with inwardly turned curiosity as she undid his little mental bundle and examined the contents was intense. He reminded himself to breathe, waiting for her to react.
"Harry?" she whispered. "What was that? What did you just do?"
"I don't know, exactly. If it has a name I don't know what it is, no one taught me how to do it. I used legilimens - but not to see what you're thinking or anything, just to sort of open your mind. Then I left you some of my thoughts where you could find them."
She closed the distance between them, settling against his side and kissing him softly just where his jawbone began beneath his ear.
"They were very nice thoughts, Harry. Thank you."
"It's not particularly useful," he admitted. "It takes a fair amount of concentration and it's very limited. I would never try to … I wouldn't ever do what Snape can do, just pushing your way into someone else's mind… your mind. I wouldn't, ever. Just so you know."
"I trust you," Hermione said simply.
Harry felt himself pushed gently sideways onto the arm of the sofa and Hermione crawled up beside him. She touched her wand to his forehead and murmured the incantation to activate the potion's charm for sleep.
"It won't make you fall asleep," she explained. "It just gives you permission that it's safe to sleep now. You still have to get sleepy by yourself."
"Not a problem." Harry yawned. He drew his legs up on to the cushions. Hermione settled down beside him and he reached for her, drawing her close. There was a moment's awkwardness as they jostled about to find comfortable places for extra limbs; one of her legs slipped between his and he shifted his hip so that it wasn't jutting her, their hands slid about seeking resting places on territory neither had really had the chance to fully explore. If he wasn't so very tired, Harry reflected, it would have been frustrating as hell.
It was the last thing he thought that night.
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