Official Fine Print: Nope. Not mine. The brainchildren of the mighty pen of JK Rowling. Just playing with them. Honest.
Here With Me
Chapter 12
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They met to work on the riddle in the library, as they had planned.
There was no sign of Malfoy.
"We won't worry about him," Hermione decided. "Professor Dumbledore said he'd know if the three of you were leaving all of the work to me to play Quidditch, he'll know Draco's ditched us. He'll handle it."
Harry and Ron exchanged looks. They'd both just as soon see Dumbledore leave well enough alone. Much as Harry'd like Malfoy to be punished, it was infinitely less annoying not having to deal with him.
Hermione handed them each a sheet of parchment with the sorting hat's poem written out on it, triple spaced.
"So we can write in our thoughts about what each line means and where to look," she explained.
"D'nno you needed to leave quite that much room," Ron said glumly. "I never did get poetry."
"Let's just try the first bit," Hermione instructed briskly. Harry looked at his parchment.
"Seek me when the one who lives
Has passed the Centaur's test;
Four again must walk these halls
And wake me from my rest."
"Do you think we ought to look for records of witches or wizards who survived Centaur attacks?" he asked. "It might well not be me."
"I did, Harry," Hermione told him. "Encounters with Centaurs aren't terribly common, you know. In 1811 they refused 'being' status and asked to be categorized as beasts. They don't like wizards any better than muggles and they normally stay well away from both. Only four wizards have been targets of actual Centaur attacks in the last one hundred and eighty-five years. None of them survived. I think it's got to be you."
Harry groaned. "Of course it is. If there's some barmy old poem about wrath and evil that grows, I'm in it."
"It just says four, it doesn't say anything about Malfoy." Ron pointed out. "Maybe we could get Dean or Neville or someone else to help us. Someone who won't stab us in the back or send their Dad in to bite us."
"What's puzzling me is that is says four again must walk these halls. Who were the first four? Do you suppose it means the four founders, or someone else? And if it meant the four founders, does it mean the four should be from each of the different houses?" Hermione thought aloud. "Did Dumbledore really believe we were actually the right four or did we just happen to be convenient guinea pigs because of the detention?"
"Moot point if it's actually just the three of us," Ron pointed out.
"'Wake me from my rest.' Something is asleep in the castle? What sleeps for hundreds of years?" Harry asked.
"The basilisk slept for almost that long, except when it was living off the vermin. I wonder what keeps the rat population under control down there now since you did it in, Harry." Ron wondered.
"Ew, Ron." Hermione wrinkled her nose. "We're getting side-tracked. If you'll just look at your parchments you'll see I've noted the key things we need to identify. First is the pageless story. How is a story told without pages?"
"What if it was a medieval knight that lost his pages? You know, his…" Ron's face fell at Hermione's steady gaze.
"A medieval knight, Ron, is not round."
"It doesn't say it's round, does it? It says 'within my circle spins.' It could be a tower, or the round table. How about that, Miss Smarty Pants."
"And I suppose the 'rose that never dies' is in a vase on the round table, along with tea for four? " Hermione asked.
"Don't need to be so superior, Hermione. What's your theory?"
"I don't exactly have one, not yet. That doesn't mean I can't spot a bad one, mind you. My plan is to split up and gather more information. First, someone needs to find out about what kind of rose never dies. If we don't find anything in the Herbology section, one of us can ask Professor Sprout. Or perhaps Hagrid, he might know if it's something magical that's been grown around the castle. Second is the pageless story. There must be references in the library about charms to relate stories. Think about it; the hat told us a sort of story without pages after its' written form was erased. And third, about that stone inscription that was wiped out from the hall under Divination. I think we need to find out more about that. Who wrote something over it? What did it say? Why did the person who cleaned up the message use a spell or cleaner so strong it could wipe out etched stone?"
"Probably Filch, wishing he could use it on the kid who wrote on the wall." Harry said. "He's been around for a million years, but he's not going to tell us anything. Who else would know?"
"Maybe Professor Trelawney? She wouldn't have been here, but it happened on her patch. She might have heard of it from one of the other teachers." Ron suggested.
"Who else would know who actually has a clue what she's talking about?" Hermione replied darkly. "I'm not wasting time on that old faker. Imagine what she could come up with."
"Wait a minute," Harry said. "I really, really hate to say this, but what about Hogwarts, a History? Didn't Dumbledore say something about starting there?"
There was a moment's stunned silence from both Hermione and Ron.
"For the love of Merlin stop kissing her while you still can, mate." Ron grinned. "It's catching."
"My personal copy is the most recent edition, but the library one should do just fine for this, we're looking back hundreds of years after all. I can't believe I got so caught up in the poem that I forgot what Dumbledore said! I don't remember anything exactly like what we're looking for, but then I wasn't looking for it, either. .." Hermione murmured, already lost. She moved unerringly across the room and went to the exact place on the exact shelf where the book was kept, extracted it and made her way back toward their table, flipping through the pages. She sat down and began reading, but looked up after a moment. "What are you two waiting for? Get started on the Herbology section. You need to find us a rose that never dies."
Harry and Ron made their way into the stacks with considerably less direction and enthusiasm.
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Madam Pince finally shooed them out of the library late in the evening and they made their way wearily back to the Gryffindor Common room.
Hermione left them at the portrait hole to return a borrowed book to Susan Bones, turning down offers to accompany her from both boys. "I'm quicker without you, and I want to think through the facts of the poem again," she told them. "I keep feeling like there's something obvious we're missing."
"Obviously whoever wrote the bloody thing was off his rocker, is what I think," Ron yawned. "Won't bother saying good night. I suppose we'll be seeing you upstairs when you get back."
Hermione intensified her glare at him and jerked her head toward the Fat Lady. "Ha Ha, Ronald. Very funny. Good night."
"Erm, 'night Hermione," Harry said clearly.
"Parting is such sweet sorrow," the Fat Lady told them, "Speed it along, will you? I want to get back to sleep. Shouldn't the three of you have graduated? You've put ten years on me, already."
"Looks more like twenty to me," Ron observed as he passed through. The portrait slammed abruptly, sending him careening into Harry.
"Smooth, Ron. Don't forget anything tomorrow, because my bet is you won't be getting back in without flowers and 'you look absolutely fabulous, honestly' as your password." Harry advised him.
"I vote Sir Cadogan back. He was weird, but he wasn't moody."
The two trailed through the nearly empty Common room to the stairs and up to their dormitory. Neville was already in his pajamas, reading on his bed with his mimbulus mimbletonia beside him.
"Likes a good bedtime story, does it Nev?" Ron asked.
"It's supposed to be good to let them become accustomed to your voice," Neville informed them earnestly. "They can learn to differentiate stimuli. Then they won't spray you accidentally; they know you're not threatening."
Harry and Ron each took a step back. Having received a mouthful of stinksap on the Hogwarts Express the previous year Harry was in no hurry to repeat the experience.
"It makes an excellent watch plant, though!" Neville beamed fondly at the little cactus. "Is Hermione really going to sleep in here Harry? Because if she is, we'll want to get Mimble used to her as well."
"Ahh, Neville, what's the, er, range of that… Mimble?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Six to eight feet. Why?"
Harry eyed the distance from Neville's bed to his own, glad that Ron was between them. He supposed with the hangings closed they were all safe enough from a direct spray, but the smell…
"She'll only be here last thing at night and gone first thing in the morning," Harry said. Ron snorted into his trunk and Harry threw a trainer at him. "I bet Mimble will hardly know she's here. Remember, Neville, it's a secret Hermione's to be here at all. I've already gotten her the detention from hell; I can't get her into any more trouble."
"I won't say a word Harry. Honestly."
"Thanks, Neville. And thanks for this morning, in Potions. Sorry about the points and all."
"Well, I did wonder, when I heard what happened. It could have been a coincidence, I suppose. The thing is Malfoy's actually really good at potions but he doesn't usually pay much attention in Herbology. Valerian is best known as a sleep inducer. It's better recognized for that then the anti-convulsive side effect."
"So you really do think Malfoy was trying to make Harry more defenseless for Voldemort, then…" Ron said.
"Ron, when I first woke up to him, Voldemort was trying to crucio Malfoy. He was happy to see him, but he wasn't happy with him, if you get my drift."
"Maybe it was all an act."
"He was IN me Ron. In my head. I could feel him; I was fighting with him, trying to stop him. It was a damn good act on Voldemort's part if that's what it was. I don't know what Malfoy's up to; I doubt Malfoy knows, to be honest. I don't trust him as far as I could throw the smarmy little suck-up. I just don't believe it was really a coordinated plot on his part." Harry felt it was time for a quick change of subject; Malfoy's talk of Ginny was one of the few things he had to fall back on to support his contention and he wasn't going anywhere near that subject. "Better get changed before Hermione gets here."
Ron looked a bit panicked and shuffled through a pile of dirty clothes even the house elves had been afraid to touch looking for pajamas. "What about Dean and Seamus? Did you warn them?"
"I think it was pretty clear last night. And she's not here to scope you guys out, Ron. She's here to make sure you don't wake up to the roommate no one wants. I'll close the hangings; you'll forget she's even around after a bit."
"Not so sure that's a good thing, either." Ron said cautiously. "Put a silencing spell on, will you."
"She knows you snore. You were honking away at Hagrid's the other night, besides she's heard you at the Burrow plenty of times."
"Otherway round, Harry."
Harry was silent a moment, puzzled, then threw the other trainer Ron's way. "I'm hardly going to choose a roomful of snorting, wanking prats as the right place for that, idiot."
"Least it's got a bed. Beats a broom closet hands down," Seamus said, coming in. Dean followed him. "Is she here yet?"
"No," Harry told them, heading off to brush his teeth. "And when she gets here all talk of beds versus broom closets in reference to her is off limits. Don't care if you go on and on about your own fun with the cleaning supplies, just leave her out of it, okay?"
The sound of whips followed him out the door.
He was so not whipped.
Yet, anyway.
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In the end, only Neville and Harry were still awake when Hermione arrived, reading by the light of their wands. Ron had fallen asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow and Seamus and Dean had followed suit soon after. Harry had loaned her his invisibility cloak but he still had a moment's pause when the door opened and closed itself. Once she noticed Ron and the other two asleep she pulled off the cloak with a grin.
"No matter how many times I get to use it, it's still fun," she whispered. Her hair was neatly braided for the night, but this time she wore faded boys' flannel pajama bottoms and a dark green thermal top, both of which appeared several sizes too large for her. On closer inspection, they both appeared to Harry to be his, as well. She noticed his assessment and grinned again.
My, but she was happy tonight.
"I nicked them from the laundry," she admitted. "I thought in a pinch in the dark I might get taken for just another boy."
Nope. Not a chance.
"Uhh, good thinking." Harry managed. "Neville says you need to get to know his plant so it doesn't mistake you for an intruder."
"Okay. Hullo, Neville."
Harry watched as she went over to Neville's bed to examine the Mimbulus Mimbletonia, watched her eyes grow intent as she listened to Neville describing the finer points of his plant like a proud father. She really listened, then asked Neville a question Harry couldn't quite make out and tentatively reached out a finger to stroke the blobby plant exactly as Neville showed her. Harry held his breath a moment but the plant remained calm, no jets of green stinksap appeared. Even the plant realized it, he thought. Hermione was nice. Kind-hearted, forgiving, loyal, fair and plain old nice. And she had said that she loved him, Harry. For the first time ever something appeared to be going right in his life.
Please, please let him not screw it up.
He heard Hermione tell Neville good night and she appeared again at the side of Harry's bed, kicked off her slippers and climbed up.
Harry reached round her and pulled the hangings closed.
"Where do you leave your wand at night?" she asked curiously, picking it up from the blankets between them.
"Under my pillow, mostly. I learned my lesson the hard way with Uncle Vernon this summer. Why, where do you keep yours?"
She looked at Harry a bit strangely and then pointed toward the bed hangings. His blank look made her sigh. She took her own wand and slipped it into a neat, wand-sized pocket sewn into the vertical hem. "It's what it's there for, did you never notice?"
Harry shook his head, wondering what other basic Hogwarts facts he had completely missed during the last six years. Why was it girls always knew these things?
"Shall I put yours there also, or do you feel safer with it under the pillow?"
"Yes, please. Put it with yours, it will be harder to get at if I'm… not right. Oh, hang on." He took it back and cast a quick silencing charm on the hangings, handing it to her sheepishly when he was done. "I promised Ron," he explained. "And it will help with the snoring."
"They are noisy sleepers, aren't they?" she said matter-of-factly; to Harry's relief she seemed completely unfazed. "Ron's far and away the loudest though."
"Yeah, He is. Um, I don't know if I should say this or anything, but I made sort of a big deal about this not being exactly the place I'd pick to, well, take you to, erm, anyway… they're meant to be polite to you. Just tell me if Seamus or Dean say anything funny. I trust them not to tell anyone else, but they won't necessarily be above teasing you." Harry could feel his cheeks burning.
Hermione settled back against the pillows. "I can handle them. I'm curious about something though, Harry. Where would you take me?"
What? "I have absolutely no idea." Harry said, falling back on honesty in his confusion. "Where would you, umm, like to be taken?" Okay, that didn't exactly come out right, either.
"Have you ever imagined us together?" she asked softly.
Harry nodded, feeling an even fiercer blush and the beginnings of something else.
"Where were we?"
"I don't know."
"Were we on a bed? The floor? A sofa? The beach?"
"Erm…"
"Warm? Cold? Night time? Day time?"
"I don't know." Harry said softly, the beginnings of anguish closing in. "I don't really take in any of that stuff. There's not a lot of detail, only you."
Her eyes softened and he knew he'd finally said something right somehow.
"It's not here when I imagine it either," she told him. "But if you're a very good wizard and catch the snitch tomorrow, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow night."
"I'd like that," Harry said slowly, trying to swallow. A lot. "But what if I don't manage to catch the snitch?"
She laughed. "You always catch the snitch, Harry. Don't worry about it. Just stay mounted on the broom all game this time, okay?"
"Okay."
"Lie down, Harry. I won't bite you."
He lay down beside her. She sat up and retrieved her wand, tapping it gently against his forehead and repeating the incantation for safe sleep. He felt his eyes begin to grow heavy even as she replaced it in the hangings; the spell might not cause sleep, but it sure made it feel like an excellent option.
"Good night, Harry." She whispered.
"Night, Hermione. Thank you."
She settled down under the covers beside him, kissing him gently on the forehead where her wand had tapped. "Tonight, Harry? Remember where we are."
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The next morning dawned clear and cool, perfect Quidditch weather. Hermione peeked out of Harry's bed hangings to see the sun slowly climbing the walls of the castle and just beginning to stream through the tower window. All around the room the boys slept on.
She ducked back through the hangings and settled herself against her pillow, contentedly allowing herself ten more minutes in the warmth and comfort of the bed before waking Harry and sneaking back to her own room.
Harry stirred, his eyes seemed to shift quickly beneath closed lids. His breathing quickened, his body tensed. Hermione reached up and recovered her wand, watching warily. He seemed less agitated than intent, expectant. His mouth opened slightly and one hand pulled free of the blanket, reaching across his body….
And snatched at the air. His face relaxed into a smile, triumphant and content.
No need to wonder what's going on there! she thought with a smile of her own. She brought her wand to his forehead to begin the waking incantation, then paused. No telling what was going on in Harry's dream world, but he'd just caught the snitch. Might as well let him enjoy his moment; Merlin knew there were few enough good ones these days.
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