Official Fine Print: Nope. Not mine. The brainchildren of the mighty pen of JK Rowling. Just playing with them. Honest.
Here With Me
Chapter 20
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(refresher from chapter 19)
"Harry showed you the passage way to the Shrieking Shack, didn't he." she guessed. "So you know the way."
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Ron put a silencio on Malfoy and prodded him along with his wand. Hermione followed them, but wished desperately she could push past both boys and just run until she found Harry.
It occurred to her then that they were no better than he; they had no real idea if Malfoy was telling the truth or walking them into a trap, perhaps the same one he had used on Harry.
"Ron, wait."
He stopped, clearly puzzled. "Thought you'd be the first to want to get him."
"How do we know this isn't just another Malfoy trick?"
Malfoy sneered silently.
"Because we're making him go first?"
"And if Voldemort himself were waiting, he'd just wave Draco aside and Avada Kedavra us." Hermione pointed out. And Ron was meant to be the tactician... "The problem is, whoever turns out to have Harry will have something we want but we'll nothing they want except Malfoy, and I doubt they could care less if a stray spell went his way. I'm sure he annoys them as well."
"So what do we do?"
"We stop here a moment and think fast before we blunder what may be our one and only chance."
She turned to Malfoy. "I'm going to remove the silencio, but if you make any fast moves or speak when you aren't spoken to I will incinerate your family bits. Quite clear?"
He nodded once.
"Finite Incantatem. What exactly happened when you came here with Harry? What did you do to him?"
"I didn't realize where the passage led until I came out at this end. Potter seemed to know right where he was going. We heard voices on the second floor, so he climbed up to see who it was. I heard him go running into the room overhead yelling spells like a banshee out of hell. There was a thump and a bunch of apparation sounds. I decided to stay well out of it and head for home."
"You snake. You took him here to be ambushed and went whistling home for dinner!" Ron's sense of honor was pushed beyond outrage and into complete disbelief. "You never thought to at least tell someone?"
"I was hardly going to get myself killed because Potter flew off half-cocked," Malfoy said calmly.
"You're lying." Hermione told him. She was shaking inside with a potent combination of fear for Harry and rage at Malfoy, but she also smelled a rat.
"Have it your way."
"I think I will," Hermione said softly. "You know that we know that Harry's gone missing. You don't know what else we know. You weren't just the logical suspect this time, we were sure Harry'd gone with you because he left us his memories of you confronting him in the hallway. He was tired, he barely wanted to talk with you, let alone go anywhere with you. You convinced him Dumbledore needed to be warned about a potential ambush, but it took you an awful lot of persuasion. Sound familiar? I don't believe Harry went rushing in to battle anyone unless Dumbledore was actually there, threatened. What really happened?"
Malfoy looked momentarily discomfited; it seemed to Hermione he was playing back his conversation with Harry in the hallway, although whether it was to keep his story straight or to see if he had already contradicted himself she couldn't be sure. There was no hard evidence of anything either way. She simply felt in her bones that he wasn't telling the truth and the desire to hex it out of him was almost overwhelming.
"The information was good, the timing must have been off," he said. "I think there must have been someone up there already waiting for Dumbledore. Whoever it was apparated away. Maybe Harry followed them."
"Harry can't apparate, Malfoy."
"Well then I have no idea where the hell he is and I care even less."
"I'm right here, actually," a voice said from behind them, and they spun around. He was covered in dust and dirt; a spider web clung to his hair. His glasses were broken and a goose egg blossomed from a bruise on his forehead. He was unsteady on his feet, weaving slightly like a drunk, but blessedly whole and alive. "'Scuse me, Ron, Herm.. Herm…miny." He launched himself between them at Malfoy.
It shouldn't have been a fair fight. Ron was ready to jump right in but realized quickly that despite his apparent condition Harry seemed to be holding his own nicely. Malfoy had given away a tad too much information in his lie to Madam Pomfrey the last time he'd accused Harry of attacking him; now that he actually had the opportunity to pound him Harry hadn't made the mistake of going for his wand.
"Lying sack of ferret crap, I will never believe another word that comes out of your mouth," he gasped. They had their hands on each other's throats and were rolling for dominance; as soon as one managed a good choke hold the other would flip them over and gain the upper hand. Hermione sighed and stuck her wand between them, muttering a spell. Harry found himself holding a white ferret round its furry little neck. The ferret squealed, bit his thumb and raced away across the passage. Hermione stepped firmly on its tail and stupified it.
"This has been such an outstandingly bad term for you, mate," Ron commiserated.
"And you don't know the half of it, yet," Harry moaned, not bothering to move from where he lay, prone on his back on the packed dirt of the passage floor, sucking his now bleeding thumb.
"What could be worse than what Hermione's going to do to you for this?"
Hermione saw Harry's eyes fly open. "You found it, didn't you? I left you…"
She held out her hand so that he could see the dragon tooth hanging from its cord. "And you think leaving me a message makes it all okay?"
"I tried to show you why I went, at least." Harry managed, and then to her absolute horror his eyes shut again and she saw what looked suspiciously like tears leak silently from the far corners, dripping toward his ears. His face remained almost impassive.
"Harry?" she said softly, and dropped to her knees beside him. "I'm not that mad, honestly. You did show me. I understand."
He shook his head and rolled away, drawing himself up stiffly to lean against the passage wall.
"Dumbledore was here. He was talking to Mad Eye and someone else I didn't hear. He… I…" Harry raised his eyes to her face, unable to finish. What he saw there finished him; he could see her desire to comfort, her will to resolve the problem, her honest and unstinting affection despite every stupid thing he did. How could she not be the one? How could anyone possibly love him more than that? How could he ever love anyone else? The thought terrified him, nauseated him. If that was what he had to do to defeat Voldemort it was beyond him.
"Harry? What is it? What's happened?"
The familiar desire not to tell her, to keep it inside, pretend nothing had happened and wait out the impending disaster filled him, but he understood, too, that acting on his other desires had brought him to a place where it was simply no longer an option to do that to her.
"Dumbledore told Mad Eye that you… that we weren't right for each other, that I wasn't holding Voldemort off the way I should. They were talking about… they want to…" Harry watched realization dawn and the familiar flicker of self-doubt shadow Hermione's eyes. "Don't." he begged fiercely. "Please, please don't."
"Don't what? What did Dumbledore mean you weren't right for each other; that's crazy," Ron protested. "What's it to him, anyway?"
"Harry thinks he heard Dumbledore say that I'm not the one he's supposed to love in order to understand the power Voldemort knows not. That the reason Voldemort was still able to possess Harry after I became his dream keeper was that I'm not the one he's meant to be with," Hermione said, her voice carefully deliberate and even.
"But we know that's not true," Harry insisted. "Even before I understood about loving you Voldemort shrank from you touching me. In the cave, remember? And that night in the dorms, he couldn't bear it and you kissed me and it was almost like Quirrell crumbling away to dust. I think he felt the way I did in the Department of Mysteries, like his head was going to explode from the connection."
"Unless you've shared a lot more of what you two have been up to with him than you have with me, there's no way Dumbledore can know any of that. How could he tell if it wasn't working without knowing stuff you wouldn't, umm, normally want to be sharing over lemon drops with the Headmaster?" Ron asked. "He'd have to know exactly what you were doing with Herms first to know doing it scared him off. There's a conversation I don't envy you guys."
"The whole thing is just wrong, anyway. He can be right about everything else, he may be Head Warlock of the Wizengamot, but how can he possibly know what Hermione means to me? The prophecy didn't say anything about the power to date or the power to have sex. Voldemort could do either, I'm sure, repulsive as that thought is. It said 'the power he knows not,' and if even Dumbledore can't understand what you mean to me, Hermione, how could Voldemort?"
He saw a small glimmer of something light her eyes; it looked like hope. He wanted it to be hope, he wanted it to be more, actually, but hope would at least get them through, keep her from pulling away just yet. Harry knew that she would actually do it if she truly believed it would change the outcome of that final battle and save his life. The wizarding world might be saved, but what the hell would be the point of it all for him without her? He supposed he should be noble and think about how she could live a peaceful life with someone else then, watch her go on with her life from afar.
Screw that.
She crawled next to him and sat down, leaning her own back against the wall. Ron moved to his other side and slid down as well. The white ferret stirred and almost as one all three pointed their wands and stupified it again.
"So what do we do now?" Ron asked.
Harry's eyes shifted to Hermione. She appeared to be deep in thought. He was afraid to touch her, afraid to make any move that might tip the balance of her belief in her irreplaceable importance to him in either direction before she'd made up her own mind.
"Prove that he's wrong, I guess. He was talking about some scary stuff though, there's part of me that still doesn't want to believe it was Dumbledore. Maybe I've just never been on the other side of what he wanted before. 'Alas they must be separated, or we will fail to discover the love that will truly protect him when we have need of him most.' He'll get a great big surprise when he has need of me most if he tries anything on with us."
"Tries what?" she asked.
"'We have several options at hand. I believe her mind could be subtly altered to transfer her affections to Mr. Weasley without too much difficulty, and such a change would require fairly little explanation given the frequency with which it occurs naturally at that age.'"
He had the voice down, the cadence of speech. It sounded eerily like their Headmaster… except it just couldn't be right.
"What the bloody hell?" Ron choked.
"Harry, Dumbledore wouldn't say that!"
"Even if he truly believed that's what he needed to do to prime his only weapon? Nine years with the Dursleys as my only reference point for human kindness isn't much of an argument for his judgment on that score," Harry pointed out. There was more than a trace of bitterness in his tone.
"Dumbledore has his regrets about that. You don't see how he looks at you sometimes, Harry," Hermione said sadly. "As much as he may need you, I think he genuinely feels for you too. I think he sees something of himself in you and wants things to be different for you. Even if separating us really was what he thought he had to do I don't think this is how he'd go about it anymore. Not after Sirius."
All three were silent for a bit, working it over in their heads. Ron was puzzled. Harry's heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds with every beat, agonizing alternately over Dumbledore and Hermione. Hermione herself was being deliberately careful in her thoughts, pushing anger and fear and loss away for later examination.
"What if it wasn't Dumbledore? What if it was just someone polyjuiced to look like him?" Ron asked.
"I would think it would be almost impossible to pull off, Ron. He's not as paranoid as Mad Eye, but he is the most powerful wizard alive. I suspect he's pretty careful," she said.
"The man's got hair like an alpaca, how careful can he be?"
Hermione sighed. "Ron, there are…."
"I didn't actually see him," Harry cut in thoughtfully. "I didn't see either of them. Malfoy was in front of me on the stairs, I only heard their voices. I just know those voices so well that I never doubted it could be them until I realized what they were saying."
"Malfoy said you went up the stairs alone. I thought you saw them." Ron said, surprised.
"Malfoy said," Harry mimicked. "You called that right from the start, Ron. He's a bloody unredeemed liar. I think he's trying to play both sides and he's so far over his head he'd grab on to anything to keep from going down. I tried to turn back on the stairs, to get back to the castle and warn you both and he pushed me over the railing."
"It could have been anyone then, altering their voices!" Hermione's mind jumped eagerly along this far more hopeful road.
"The question is; why?" Ron asked.
"Here's an even better question," she said. "When Malfoy pushed Harry over the railing he must have made noise falling. Why didn't they come down and obliviate him, if it truly was Dumbledore and Mad Eye? Why would Malfoy risk hurting Harry with Dumbledore right there? And why, if it were Death Eaters or someone working for Voldemort, wouldn't they have just finished Harry off or taken him away with them?"
"That's three questions, actually." Harry reminded her, and she remembered chastising Dumbledore in his office.
"Still, think about it!"
"She's got a point there, actually," Ron agreed. "You're obviously supposed to remember what you heard and take it back to the castle. Maybe even confront Dumbledore with it."
The three eyed each other, warily.
"What did you feel when you heard them talking, Harry?" Hermione asked slowly.
His eyes dropped to the ground. "I tried to scream something but Malfoy covered my mouth. At first rush all I wanted was to go in there and let loose on them both, I'd just had my DADA class with Snape and I was primed. But then I realized I had to get back to you before they did."
"Hardly a fool proof plan, but the possibilities are all there. Malfoy stopped you from making any noise so you wouldn't wonder why they didn't come out to see what it was, because it wasn't Mad Eye or Dumbledore. He knocked you down and probably stupified you to buy time so you would wake up believing it was too late. You're supposed to go back to Hogwarts and either have it out with Dumbledore or walk around second-guessing and being jealous of everything Ron and I do. Either way…"
"Either way I'm a loose cannon in my own camp, questioning the loyalties of my friends and ignoring my enemies." Harry finished for her.
"Except you're older now, and wiser, and we've managed not to let anything come between the three of us so far and we're not going to start now," she said firmly. "Right?"
"Right," he replied gratefully.
"Right," Ron agreed.
"And this is what we're going to do instead…"
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They had to sneak back in to the castle with Malfoy still stupified in ferret form in the pocket of Hermione's robes. They only just had time to unload him somewhere and make it back to Gryffindor in time for curfew.
"Oh let me, please," begged Ron. "I'll be in by curfew, I promise."
Hermione was in no mood to deal; she handed her furry little burden over and headed up the main stairs with Harry. They parted company finally in the common room as each headed to their respective stairways.
"I'll see you in a bit, won't I?" Harry asked softly, uncertain, and she vowed to herself once again to get to the bottom of whoever had come up with this newest assault on his confidence. And then to hex them into utter oblivion.
She nodded. "Twenty points if you wear those nice, soft flannelly ones. I'm freezing."
She decided she really liked the way his eyes kind of crinkled up at the corners when he grinned like that.
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The boys might be quite used to Hermione in their room now, but things had never been as clear in her own. Hermione was a creature unto herself to begin with; she got on well enough with Lavender and Parvati and the others, but she had never exactly bonded with them. She attempted to be a considerate roommate, leaving her things neat and coming in quietly after a late night spent studying. She tended to rise early, but always dressed quickly and quietly not to rouse later sleepers. She simply had no real patience for most of the girlish sharing the others craved; she knew more than they thought of their various exploits from absorbing the chat that went on around her but seldom entered into it herself. She co-existed with her roommates well enough, but Harry and Ron were her friends.
She could tell something was up as soon as she entered the room. Lavender and Parvati both bounced back guiltily from the area around her bed and Lavender quickly tried to make it appear that she was teaching Parvati about Muggle stretching exercises.
"Don't let me stop you," she told them politely, and went about changing in to her pajamas. She brushed her teeth and braided her hair in the girls' lavatory and returned to find them still up, now sitting on Lavender's bed seemingly absorbed in some Witch Weekly quiz. Hermione dug through her books and found her Arithmancy text and some parchment.
"Guess I'll just work on this a bit downstairs. 'Night."
Lavender and Parvati burst into helpless giggles. Thinking it was their reading they found so funny Hermione shrugged and headed toward the door.
"We….we….we….we…" Lavender tried.
"We wort…she wort …" Parvati gasped.
Hermione waited patiently for one of them to gain control.
"We short sheeted your bed days ago," Lavender finally managed to get out. "Unless you really like it that way you haven't slept in here in almost a week. Now spill!"
It was the moment she'd so not been looking forward to.
Their lack of Muggle film knowledge precluded 'I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.' She was going to have to rely on their solidarity as girls. Or obliviate them.
"I've been with Harry," she admitted. "But it's not what you think."
"Hermione, even you couldn't spend that much time with Harry and not get up to something interesting."
Now what the heck did THAT mean? Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I mean McGonagall knows about it, that's why I haven't been caught. I'm not really supposed to talk about it. I'm helping with a spell that's supposed to keep Voldemort from being able to reach him."
Both girls winced. "That's his one downside, I suppose," Lavender said. "The Voldemort thing."
"That and the fact he can't dance," Parvati sighed. "The eyes almost make up for it, though. And he really can be very sweet."
"Damn fine on a broom, too."
"Ummm, Hello?" Hermione reminded them. "Can I ask you two to please keep this quiet?"
"Absolutely," Lavender said with a grin. "You can always ask."
"Implore, beg, plead…" Parvati agreed.
"So is he, you know, any good?" Lavender wondered aloud.
For the very first time in her life, Hermione found herself torn between the "good girl" answer (well I never!) and what she honestly believed to be the "real" answer (Hell yes!). 'I actually almost want to talk to them about… well not in detail, but I want… because I'm… happy. I'm happy and excited inside about him and I sort of feel… girly? Merlin, Harry, what have you done to me?'
Hermione Granger nodded shyly and then blushed brilliantly. "I've got to go. I'd really appreciate it if you'd not tell anyone, okay? We'll, ah, maybe we can all, erm, talk, or something, tomorrow. Thanks!"
She fled.
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The boys' dorm seemed familiar and welcoming somehow after the strangeness of the encounter in her own. Neville smiled a shy greeting, Dean waved vaguely, immersed in the news of his favorite football team. Seamus didn't even flinch that she'd caught him in his boxers.
"Put on your pants, Finnigan, you exhibitionist." Ron nagged him.
"Like she's looking," Hermione heard him yawn in reply as she climbed onto Harry's bed. "Straight up to Potter like always, never a thought for the rest of us, poor helpless Dark Lord fodder though we are. It's a pity, I tell you."
Harry was actually working, reading his potions assignment. "I figured I'd better, after the DADA disaster today," he sighed, and moved to shut the book. She stilled his hand.
"No, go ahead and finish. You really should. I don't mind."
"Thanks a heap," he laughed, but returned to the assignment without further persuasion. Hermione stretched out beside him and began puzzling through the loose ends of the day, trying to sort through events. Across the room the boys continued to talk quietly amongst themselves until one by one they began to succumb to sleep.
Harry finally closed his potions book with a sigh. "Done," he groaned; tiredness heavy in his voice. "For some reason reading potions always makes me desperately need to pee."
"Really? How useful. Go on then. I'll remember that," she teased. He padded off to the loo. He'd left the hangings open and as Hermione shifted her position after a bit she abruptly caught the gleam of an open eye across the darkness.
"Good night, Ron," she called softly.
"G'night Hermione. I, um, I'mgladyou'rehere. Actually. Glad."
High praise, coming from Ron.
"Thanks."
"Me, too," whispered Harry, climbing back up onto the bed. "'Night, Ron." He pulled the hangings closed and settled down with a soft exhalation of relief. "Another day I'm not sorry to see the end of."
"It had its good points, didn't it?" she inquired mischievously.
He had worn the pajamas she loved. She hooked her legs round his, snuggling in. "These weren't Dudley's were they?"
"'Fraid so. From when he was twelve or something. He was always such a big, unh, boy. I've had them at least three or four years though, if that's any comfort."
"It's just they still feel like they practically want to fall off."
"You seem to be helping. A lot, actually."
"You could help as well."
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Hermione was the one with restless dreams that night. She awoke from a dead sleep to the horrible suspicion that she had become so distracted fooling around with Harry that she had forgotten altogether to activate the dream keeper spell before they drifted off. He seemed so peaceful; should she wake him? How could she sleep if she didn't? It was her own fault, maybe she should just stay awake the rest of the night and watch. She could petrify him if anything looked off…
"Have I grown another nose or something?" he asked sleepily, and she almost screamed aloud.
"I thought, um, I, did we remember to do the spell earlier?"
"Oh, sod it, I thought you did, you were the one with the wand out," Harry said anxiously, as awake now as she.
"Not THAT one, idiot, the other one. Did I do your spell for you?"
"Oh. Yeah, you did. Yeah. No problems, then?"
"No, no problem."
Except they were now both wide awake.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think he knows when you're ummm, when you're really, really happy? Through the scar?"
He shifted restlessly, eyes avoiding her, but he knew what she was getting at. "I don't know. But probably yes. I mean I always think he's killed someone or something when he gets that sort of triumphant, happy feeling, but for all I know he's getting off. I have no way of knowing really, I'm sorry. I know it's…gross."
"No… I mean yes, it sort of is, of course, but I've thought of something else. No one else but Dumbledore should know about the prophecy, right? And we're pretty sure now that it wasn't Dumbledore you heard today. So how would anyone else even think of love protecting you if they didn't know about a power that he knows not?"
"Voldemort shouldn't know about a power he knows not, but he does know about you."
"Right. He saw me with you the other night, you said it infuriated him and when I kissed you he backed off, right? He'd want us split up then, if it meant a clear shot at you. It makes so much more sense than if it were Dumbledore. What I'm not sure of is what exactly gets to him. Is it you loving me, or you being able to love at all?"
"I don't see the difference."
"If it wasn't me, then it wouldn't matter if he broke us up, you'd have the same protection from anyone else you loved."
"Hermione, I don't care about anyone else. I don't want anyone else. Only you."
"But maybe I really could be the power after all then. If Voldemort was the one behind whoever was pretending to be Dumbledore, than maybe it's because I really am what you need. He doesn't know anything about the prophecy; he just knows what's happening when you're here with me."
"Hermione, you are what I need. All that I need. Trust me, I should know by now," Harry said patiently. "You do so much more for me than just revolt Voldemort."
Hermione stared at him a moment, her velvety brown eyes unreadable. It occurred to him then that perhaps he hadn't worded that last bit quite so well.
"Sorry," he said softly.
"Never mind," she said, nestling down and slipping her arms around him again. "That was, dare I say it, quite romantic coming from you."
Not just any girl would say that.
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