Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company are the property and creation of J.K. Rowling. The only things that're mine are the purely non-profit drivel below and a couple of plot-handy objects like the augmenter and the Solvamus. This is going to be one of those NC-17 chapters.
CHAPTER EIGHT:
It didn't mean that everything was forgiven or forgotten. Even Harry knew that. As soon as they were all inside, his friends quietly fell back and watched as Lupin and Tonks led him away.
When he was gone, Ron and Hermione let out the breaths they hadn't been aware of holding. What Harry had said - that things would never be the same between the three of them - was probably true.
But when they had held their hands out, they had promised him a chance.
"You okay?" Ron lifted a hand up to the witch's shoulder.
She flinched, surprising them both.
"Bloody hell, Hermione," he whispered. Although she had told him about Harry's condition she had pretty much skimmed over the night itself. "What did he do to you?" What he had overheard Lupin telling his parents wasn't much help. Ron had stormed out the second he heard that Harry had attempted something unthinkable. "Did he ...?"
The girl shook her head. Even Lupin and Tonks didn't know how close Harry had gotten, because she had had her clothes back on by then. If they had arrived a minute later ... "He didn't get that far. Can we ... not talk about this now?" Objectively, Hermione knew why she was taking this so hard. She had been relatively innocent, and it had been Harry.
Ron clenched his jaw, and the girl knew he was angry at being shut out. To her relief, he let it lie. He held his hand out and they walked back to the library.
The brown-haired witch sat down at her accustomed place and picked up her pen, but the redheaded boy merely stood and stared at the open Hogwarts book. "Why are we doing this?" he asked, running a finger across the page.
"I mean," he clarified as Hermione looked up, "why are we still looking for the horcruxes?"
She carefully put aside her pen and parchment. "Do you want to stop?"
"Shouldn't we? Shouldn't you?" Ron closed the book with a thump. "I feel like we're being such goody prats. He does this, and we're still helping him out."
"What are we supposed to do?" She sounded tired. "Let him jump? Let Voldemort win?"
"It's just - it's bloody UNFAIR!" the redhead exploded. "If he were anybody else but Harry-bleeding-Potter, he'd be on his way to Azkaban by now! Instead, Lupin and Tonks are mollycoddling him and we're doing his dirty work."
"That's not what we're doing!" she denied.
"Well it sure looks like it to me! What else would you call it?"
"What needs to be done."
"According to who? Some prophecy from mad-as-hatters Trelawney? We've only got Harry's word for that, haven't we?" he struck out wildly. "What if he lied, what if he's been playing us for years?"
"I don't believe this! The basilisk, Ron!" she reminded him incredulously, "Quirrel, Tom Riddle, Cedric's and Sirius' deaths, and Snape killing Dumbledore - are you telling me we imagined it? Or that Harry somehow staged it all? Will you listen to yourself?"
It was actually a silly idea, he knew that, but the fact that she punctured it so easily just annoyed him even more. "Why are you even defending him?" Ron demanded angrily. "Did you like it that much?" He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.
"SHUT. UP." Tears stood in Hermione's eyes and her chin trembled. "I can't believe you said that." She slumped down into her chair, suddenly nerveless.
"Oh man, Herm, I'm sorry." Ron was sincerely appalled. "I'm a right foul git, okay? I didn't mean it. I'm just mad. I keep coming back to how I should've been here with you that night."
"It wasn't your fault. Or mine. And maybe not even all Harry's," she was able to say after awhile.
Ron bit back a retort. He was back to being furious at Harry for what he had done, and jealous as well. Hermione's reaction had suddenly made him wonder how far his erstwhile friend had gotten. It was a good thing he hadn't felt like this earlier, or he would've shoved the dark-haired teenager right off the roof.
He needs to understand. Hermione fiddled with the small jewelry box that had been sitting next to her books all this time. "If you want to have an idea about what Harry's been going through, touch this." She clicked the box open and showed him the Griffyndor pin.
"Just touch it?" he asked warily.
She nodded.
Ron didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this. At first he didn't feel any different, but as his thumb lingered on the cold metal that began to change. A warm wave started to sweep through his body, trailing sparks along the way.
His blue eyes went wide as the wave grew into a fire. As he focused on the nervous girl in front of him, he suddenly knew only she could quench it.
"Hermione," he growled, stepping around the table towards her. It was only her alarmed gaze that stopped him. He grabbed the chair next to her and clenched his hands on the headrest. "What the bloody blazes is that?"
"The augmenter I told you about," she replied, trying to cover her apprehension. "The shopkeeper practically forced it on Harry. It takes what you feel and magnifies it ..."
"Like a love potion?" Ron grimaced. He'd had bad experiences with love potions.
"No, it doesn't make you fall in love or anything," Hermione corrected unthinkingly, "it just works on what's there." Oh no, why did I say that?
It was too late to take it back. The redhead blinked several times as the significance of her words slowly sank in. "Doesn't that mean that Harry actually ... likes you?"
The witch found that she couldn't lie to him. "I don't know, Ron" she said miserably.
Her companion sank into a chair, his expression completely stunned. Harry never said anything. No, he distinctly remembered Harry telling him about how Krum had come up to the younger Hogwarts champion one day to ask about Hermione and Harry, and how Harry had made it clear that they were just friends. "But - but," he sputtered, "Cho. GINNY."
Hermione winced because Ron unknowingly echoed the same question she had posed to Harry a few nights ago. "I don't know," she repeated. She sighed. "Lupin thinks Harry may have felt something at one time ... and decided not to act on it."
"Because of me?" Ron was torn between getting angry and being horrified.
"Because of US," Hermione amended. "Harry said he didn't want to come between us," she remembered.
The young wizard still had a look of utter bewilderment, as if things in his world had just turned upside down. "Then you should get away! The Cor - the Sol - the potion's still in him, innit? You're not safe."
Her head came up and her eyes bored into his. "So we let him die?" she asked quietly.
Ron's blue eyes went wider than she had ever seen them. He'd forgotten all about the seven-day deadline.
"If Harry dies, Voldemort wins," Hermione went on matter-of-factly. After what had just happened, she was angry enough to use their enemy's name without a qualm. "If Voldemort wins, he will come after everyone who stood in his way. You. Me. Your family. Maybe even mine. Somehow I don't think Death Eaters will distinguish much between muggles and wizards when it comes to that," she reflected.
"So what can we do?"
"I wish I knew." The girl sighed. "Maybe we can see what Lupin and Tonks are doing with Harry. If they've found a way to treat him, all we need to do is to wait." She said it hopefully, but without much confidence.
"What can I do?" Ron asked, feeling useless.
"Come with me?" she asked softly, looking up at him. "Even just as far as the door if you don't want to see him."
"Oh Herm." Ron moved until he was crouching beside her. He grasped her hands tightly. "Of course I will."
================
They eventually agreed that Ron should wait outside, even though he was willing to accompany her into the room. If Harry was under the sway of the Solvamus again, they didn't know how he'd react to the other boy's presence.
"Just give me a shout," he said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before she knocked.
Tonks opened the door a crack, and then wider to let the girl in. "Wotcher, Hermione."
The girl cast a swift glance around as the door closed behind her. The first thing she noticed was that Lupin was nowhere in the room.
The bright-haired Auror sensed her surprise and explained, "We're taking turns. I sent Remus off to get some rest. Harry's deep into a dream trance right now so it's safe. We'll know if he starts coming out of it."
Hermione nodded and took another step into the room. "Is that a pensieve?" she asked, glancing at the shallow stone basin placed next to Harry's bed. It was emitting a faint silvery glow.
She approached it curiously. As a Hogwarts student, she knew what a pensieve was. They had read about it in a number of books and discussed it in class. But Harry was the only one among them who had actually touched a pensieve. Harry had told Ron and her about how he had used a pensieve and seen Snape's memories of his dad and the Marauders, and how Dumbledore had used it to show him bits of Voldemort's past.
"Of a sort, yes. This one has been modified to absorb dreams rather than memories, though. There's a difference in the runes." Tonks pointed to several symbols etched into the stone.
As interested as she was, Hermione found her eyes straying to the prone figure on the bed.
She had been expecting, because he was supposed to be in a dream trance, that Harry would be asleep. In a sense he was. He was stretched out on the bed and his eyes were closed. Someone had taken his glasses off and drawn the covers on top of him. But "repose" was the last word anyone would use to describe him now.
Hermione had seen her friend asleep a number of times. She had sometimes found herself sneaking amused glances at him when he dozed off over his books, his hair mussed up and his glasses askew. At those moments, it seemed like all his cares and worries tumbled away and he was merely a boy instead of the Boy Who Lived.
This time Harry tossed and turned, and the sheets continuously bunched in his restless hands. There was an edgy, tight-wound expression on his face. Hermione had seen it before, when Harry was about to face a Hungarian horntail, and when he had led the D.A. to face off against Death Eaters.
This is what he looks like when he has nightmares. Ron had told her a couple of times about how Harry would sometimes startle his dorm mates in the middle of the night with his restless cries. How the tousle-haired wizard would wake with a shout, and how the other boys would pretend to be asleep so as not to embarrass their friend. None of them envied Harry's dark visions.
Tonks laid a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder. "I know it looks bad, but that's because the potion is trying to fight the pensieve. We're drawing his dreams away and the Solvamus doesn't like that."
Hermione thankfully turned away from the disturbing sight. "Are the dreams causing his condition?"
"No, but they play a part. The dreams are a symptom of the potion, of Harry's walls breaking down, but they also feed his obsession. By siphoning some of that away, we disrupt the cycle."
"Can't we break the cycle?"
The Auror shook her head. "Not this way. Unfortunately, this is only a temporary measure, something to help Harry maintain control. We're still looking for the cure."
"Professor Lupin said we only had seven days." There was an anxious edge to Hermione's voice.
The older woman stared at her, surprised that Remus had revealed that much. It was one thing for the members of the Order to deal with hard truths; they were adults. Privately, she agreed more with Molly Weasley on this point and preferred to spare the young trio as much as possible. After all, when she was sixteen and seventeen, Tonks didn't have to worry about Dark Lords and death threats and now, potions that turned friend against friend and threatened madness and death.
But Voldemort won't spare them, Remus had argued more than once. And like it or not, these three have and probably will go through more horrifying things than most of the Order put together.
"No one can say that for sure," the Auror finally answered. "It's been a hundred years since anyone studied the Solvamus. The records we've found do show that most of the victims went mad and eventually died, or arranged their own deaths rather than give in to the Solvamus. But I'll be the first to admit that what we have on the Solvamus is far from complete."
"They committed suicide?" Hermione was aghast, remembering how close Harry had been to the edge of the roof, how a tile dislodged by his shoe shattered into pieces on the street below.
It was starting to sink in, how serious a mess Harry was in, how they could truly lose him this time. We need to know more, understand more! If there's no more information on the Solvamus in general then we need another source ...
Suddenly, the young witch stared at the stone basin. "Harry once said that you could see the memories stored in a pensieve."
"Well yes but ..." Tonks trailed off as she realized what the girl in front of her had in mind. "Oh no, Hermione, don't even think it. What's in these dreams, it's not Harry."
"That's not quite true, is it?" was the bitter reply. "Trust me, this isn't about curiosity. I'm the last person who wants to see what Harry planned for me. Just remembering that night, how one of my best friends suddenly turned on me, treated me like - like - " Hermione couldn't suppress her shudder.
The bright-haired woman gazed at her compassionately. Unlike Remus, she immediately suspected that more had happened in that room before they'd arrived. The teenage girl had been too shaken up for it to be a matter of a few stolen kisses. "You won't like what you see," she warned. "You could end up hating him."
"Even if I do, I'll continue to be on the Order's side. I'll help in any way I can because it's the right thing to do," Hermione said decisively. "Besides, if there is anything in there that we do need to see, I'd prefer that I ... rather than ... I don't want anyone else seeing it! Even if it's not really me."
Tonks mulled it over. Unlike Hermione, she was aware of exactly how little progress the Order had made in finding an antidote. "I suppose there's no harm if we try for a few minutes," she said slowly. "Provided you promise me that if it's too much you'll stop. And if I think it's going too hard I'll pull you out myself."
The girl nodded. "How do we do this?" Now that she was actually going to go through with it, she sounded nervous.
"Come here." The woman stirred the contents of the stone basin with her wand. The glow within it pulsed and brightened momentarily. "When you're ready, bend and touch your face to the silvery substance."
"I've never done this before," Hermione admitted as she stood next to the pensieve.
"Don't worry, it's simple. See this cloudy swirling stuff? The second you touch it, it will be as if you're actually there, in Harry's dreams," Tonks explained, "but only as a spectator. Remember, no matter how bad it gets, nothing in there can harm you. You don't need to watch everything as it happens, either. You can will yourself backwards and forwards. Ready?"
Hermione took a deep breath and nodded.
"Take it slow."
The young witch did, and as soon as her nose met the bright ephemeral substance she slid into another world ...
... where Ginny was morphing into her. Harry's voice hoarsely asking, "What's the harm? I just ... I want to feel you. No one will ever know." Moving against her, hooking her leg around his hip so he could press against her more, mouthing her name as he moved, until her hips were rising to meet his ...
... she watched in open-mouthed mortification as a well-remembered towel pooled at his feet. Harry bucking as the dream Hermione took him in hand. The real Hermione blushed as she was treated to the sight of her friend's bare, firm arse and the look of amazed rapture on his face as the girl of his fantasies sank to her knees. "You don't have to." "I think that's one of the reasons why I want to ..."
... "All these years and you never thought about what it would be like between us? Not once?" Harry daring her and, once the dare was accepted, his tongue swirling on her breast. His fingers diving into her jeans. The dream girl's hips bucking to the movements of his hand. "Please, Hermione." His voice pleading until she reached for him ...
... The two of them standing in front of a fireplace, a couch behind them ...
Oh no. NO, not this! Hermione almost wrenched away before she realized that the room she was seeing did not belong to Grimmauld. No, this warm, cluttered place was the Gryffindor common room. Hermione paused. There was something familiar about this scene, too, something that tugged at her memory. Because she wanted to figure it out, Hermione stood back and let the dream play on around her.
"Wait." Harry spoke up just as she was about to step forward. "Hermione, stay a while longer."
"Harry, I'd like to, but Professor Dumbledore said the fireplace wouldn't be connected to the floo network for very long." Hermione reluctantly moved to pick up her coat.
"I know, but ... there's always the Knight bus!" he exclaimed. "I've ridden it before. I'll come with you if you like, drop you off right at your doorstep. It's just a couple more hours," he continued persuasively. "Write your parents a note saying you'll be home for dinner. Hedgwig will deliver it."
He looked so hopeful that she gave in. She scribbled a note and they watched as the owl flew straight away. "Now what?"
"Um, want to take another walk?"
She laughed. "It was fun, but no thanks. I think we've broken in my new boots enough for today. Actually, if you don't mind ..." Hermione sat down on the couch and took her shiny new winter boots off. She stretched out her legs and rubbed her stocking-covered feet. "That's so much better," she groaned.
Harry sat down next to her. "Here, let me." He scooted closer and maneuvered her legs so that they lay on his lap. Without another word, he started massaging her feet and legs, his fingers digging with just the right pressure through the denim.
"Harry!" she protested, embarrassed for some reason. But he ignored her and continued, and after awhile she just sat back and let it go.
"Are you sure those boots came from your parents? Seems more like whoever gave them to you doesn't like you very much," he teased. "Ruddy little torture devices."
"I'll have you know they're expensive, extremely lovely torture devices and they go perfectly with my new coat," she defended, gesturing at the camel-colored winter coat carefully draped over an armchair.
He grinned. "So much for the rumor that Hermione Granger hasn't a single vain bone in her body."
"Everyone's got a weakness," she huffed loftily.
"Yeah? Is it worth getting a sprained ankle for?" the raven-haired wizard asked sardonically. Using thumb and two fingers to form a pincer, he ran his hand from calf to ankle, but the thick denim kept getting in the way. Impulsively, he slipped his fingers under the cuff of her jeans, found the tops of her socks and pulled them off.
Startled, the girl tried to wriggle away. "Hey!"
"Shh. Relax, Hermione." With a look of complete concentration, Harry returned to his task. His strong warm hands slipped easily into the loose bootleg of her jeans. They slid from a spot below her knee to the tendons in her ankles, kneading and probing the muscles just so along the way.
The young witch groaned appreciatively as the boy switched to the other leg. His strong fingers seemed to find and ease out every knot and strain. "How'd you get so good at this?"
"Quidditch. I know what sore muscles feel like."
Slowly, Hermione eased back down. As the massage continued, she began to get drowsy. Harry and she had walked all over Hogsmeade and what seemed like most of Hogwarts that afternoon, and the rest of her body was starting to realize how tired she was.
Harry swallowed as he glanced at the girl who lay supine beside him. He had never seen her so open and at ease before. Hermione was usually rushing from one thing or another - classes and school or her causes or, well, him. He realized he liked seeing her like this ... and that touching her was affecting him much more than it should.
Unconsciously, he started to reduce the pressure he was using and the way he was touching her began to change. Soon the tips of his fingers were dancing teasingly over the smooth skin of her legs.
Hermione opened her eyes when the young wizard lightly began drawing circles around her knees, not quite believing what he was doing. When his fingers tentatively tried to wriggle up further into her jeans, brushing against the more sensitive skin of her thighs, she sat up and placed her hands over his through the denim.
Silently, Harry withdrew his hands. They stared at each other, both flushed and brimming with feelings that they had never associated with each other before.
"Harry -"
"Hermione -"
"You first," the girl offered.
"I - thanks," he stammered, feeling more nervous than he had ever been around a girl in his life. A hundred times worse than asking Cho to the Yule ball. "I mean, for coming over today. This was a perfect day. The happiest Christmas I've ever had."
It disturbed her for some reason. They had done nothing special, just walked and talked and laughed all afternoon. Surely something so ordinary shouldn't make up anyone's happiest Christmas. She found herself half-protesting that there would surely be better ones someday, that next time they'd do something really interesting.
"No," he insisted, "this was perfect just as it was." He steeled himself and took the plunge. "Because I was with you."
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, touched to the core. No one had ever said anything like that to her. And this was Harry, who deserved so much more. When she finally spoke, her voice was husky. "Tell me what you really want for Christmas, Harry."
Emerald eyes locked with hazel. "It depends. Anything?" he asked carefully.
"Within reason," she warned softly.
After what had just happened, he knew exactly what to ask for. "I want to see your legs," he said in a low voice.
For a moment the boy was sure she was going to shoot him down. Then she slowly lay back down again. "O-okay," she said nervously.
She was expecting him to simply remove her jeans, but that's not what he did. Harry ran a forefinger over the sliver of skin showing between her jeans and sweater before he carefully unbuttoned the snap of her jeans. He smiled at her indrawn breath and leaned down to plant slow, sucking kisses on her belly. He took his time, drawing bits of Hermione's increasingly sensitized skin into his mouth, sometimes grazing them with his teeth.
Hermione dug her fingers into the couch as she let herself fall under the spell of Harry's lips. A warm fire was growing low in her belly and there was wetness pooling further down still. When the young wizard began to probe her navel with the tip of his tongue, a soft moan left her lips. It felt so good that she nearly missed the fact that his hands were pulling at her zipper.
Then Harry was hooking his hands into the waistband of her jeans. He slid the denim past hips, thighs and knees until they were bunched at Hermione's ankles. He lifted himself momentarily to pull them off and throw them away. He didn't take his eyes off of her the entire time.
Wordlessly, he bent down again, this time to plant kisses on her gorgeously bare legs. He started on her ankles and slowly worked his way upwards. Some of the kisses were the same as the ones he had planted on her belly, sucking, nipping, biting little things. At other times it was just his warm, dexterous tongue sliding against her skin ...
Hermione whimpered as Harry made his way up to the inside of her thighs, and suddenly he was filled with a fierce desire to hear her make more sounds. He brought his hands up to spread her legs further apart and attacked her ferociously, using his teeth more, sucking harder, leaving marks on her pale creamy skin. Soon Hermione was tossing her head back and biting her lips to hold back her cries.
Harry tore his glasses off impatiently when they got in the way. At this point, he didn't need perfect vision. He was reveling in his other senses, touching and feeling and tasting her, listening to her little whimpers. And as he got closer to her center, smelling the faint hints of her arousal.
He wanted more. He wanted to know what she'd sound like if she screamed his name. "Hermione, let me ..."
She looked at him dazedly. "Hmmm?" She gasped when a thumb skirted the inside of one thigh, skirting closer and closer until it was tracing the line where thigh met pelvis. The very tip of his thumb snagged the edge of her knickers.
The uncertainty was plain on her face. "Harry, no one's ever ... and you might not like it."
"I want to." The thought that he was the first to get this close to her made his heart pound. He leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Let me try?"
"Even if," she swallowed, "I might not be able to give you more than this today?"
He favored her with one of those rare, wide smiles. "You already gave me a perfect day, and you gave me this. I wasn't expecting either. I just want to do something for you."
The brown-haired witch took a deep nervous breath, and nodded.
It was encouragement enough. Harry started by fondling Hermione through her knickers. He traced the lines and dips of her sex through the thin cloth, paying close attention to her reaction. When she began to look less anxious and more aroused, he began rubbing her core faster with the palm of his hand.
With a surprised moan, the girl surged towards him, pressing her mound desperately against his hand. Her hips began to rock in time with the movements of his hand.
The sight of Hermione starting to lose it was almost too much for him. Quickly he yanked down her knickers to mid-thigh, finally exposing the maddening triangle of curls that he desperately wanted to explore. Slowly and uncertainly at first, he began to touch her, running one and then another finger through the downy hair and dipping into her increasingly wet sex.
Then his forefinger slipped between the soaked lips of her slit and found the tender bump of her clit. He pressed firmly against it, making her cry out. Impatiently, Harry used his thumbs to part her pussy so he could better see her. He began circling the hooded nub with his fingers, hearing her breath hitch. When he swiped the calloused pad of his thumb over it, she jerked forward. He started alternating between the two, and she never knew when the teasing circles would suddenly give way to a hard direct rub that had her biting her lips to keep from screaming out.
Suddenly Harry yanked her knickers all the way off so he could position himself between her legs, his face hovering right above her sex. Hermione tossed her head as she felt his hot breath blowing against her sensitive flesh. She was dying to let him continue, but at the same time she was still extremely shy about what he was planning to do. "Harry, you don't have to ..."
"Hermione, look at me." He waited until her eyes were on him. He was grinning. "Are you still worried I won't like it?" He bent his head, stuck out his tongue and deliberately licked the length of her slit.
"Harry!"
Merlin, he loved the way she called his name with such abandon! Harry was determined to have her do it again. This time he attacked her clit, his tongue stabbing and repeatedly rolling the wet nub. When Hermione was panting and repeating his name in broken whimpers and jerking her hips in uncontrollable passion, he found her opening and slowly slipped a finger inside. The girl froze for a second.
The raven-haired wizard lifted his head. "Hermione." he whispered, and although he couldn't see her clearly, he saw her head tilt towards him. "Come for me," he demanded softly.
Without waiting for an answer, Harry renewed his attack on the young witch. His hot mouth closed on her sex and his tongue and lips lapped at her folds and her swollen clit. His thick, calloused finger began to pump in and out of her tight channel, slow at first, and then faster as the wetness made it easier to slip in and out. Soon her fluids were dripping all over his hand and mouth.
Unable to help herself, the girl opened her legs wider and lifted her hips in time to meet the thrusts of Harry's demanding tongue and fingers. For the first time Hermione brought her hands to Harry's head and buried them in his dark locks, trying to push him down harder on her. His name fell from her lips in a torrent of broken whimpers. The feeling deep in her belly was ratcheting up, building and building. She couldn't stand much more ...!
It was one last, unbearable stab of his tongue on her clit at the same time as his finger rubbed against something incredibly sensitive inside her that finally did it. Hermione screamed his name as she climaxed. Her walls clamped and pulsed around Harry's finger as a last gush of fluids rushed into his mouth.
When her orgasm finally subsided, Hermione pulled Harry up until their faces were almost touching. She kissed him tenderly, and tasted herself in the process. It was a strange taste, but if Harry wasn't bothered by it, neither would she. "Oh lord, Harry," she breathed, "I had no idea it could be so, so ..."
Harry wrapped his arms around her. His erection was digging into her side, and as much as he wanted to do more, he knew she wasn't ready yet. He buried his face in her hair and kissed the side of her neck. "Merry Christmas, Hermione."
This time the word sank in. Christmas! Hermione willed the dream backwards, to before the time she and Harry were standing by the fireplace.
Hermione quickly pulled away from the pensieve once she confirmed her suspicion. She hoped Tonks would not notice how flushed she was, or at least attribute it to something other than the dream she had just witnessed.
"You have to stop. The pensieve's starting to drain his memories!" she explained hurriedly. "There are all these dreams in there that are absolute rubbish, but this one ..."
At Hermione's insistence, the Auror waved her hand at the pensieve and the glow in it seemed to subside for awhile. She motioned for the girl to continue.
"You know how Harry spends nearly every Christmas at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked. "Everyone else goes home but Harry prefers Hogwarts to the Dursleys any day. One time, on impulse, I asked Professor Dumbledore for permission to visit Harry. It was near Christmas and I wanted to give him his present. I'd never seen anyone so happy to see me. I ended up staying all afternoon and it was one of the best days I'd ever spent with anyone."
Tonks looked doubtful. "Hermione, it could just be a dream taken from memory."
"No, the details were too exact," the young witch insisted. "We walked to Hogsmeade and all over the grounds. There was ice on the ground, and Harry held my hand because I kept slipping in my ridiculous new boots. At the end, when I had to floo back, he and I both hesitated. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him to come with me, but I thought, what would my parents say if I suddenly brought home a boy to spend Christmas with us? Even if it was Harry ... so I didn't. I felt guilty about it all day. I sensed that Harry was on the verge of asking me to stay, too, but we never talked about it again."
"Please, we have to put this back," Hermione entreated. "I don't care about the rest of the dream, but if Harry was really happy on that day I don't want him to lose the memory of it." He's had so few good memories.
"Alright, alright," the Auror said soothingly. She touched her wand to the pensieve and then to the unconscious wizard's forehead. "I'll let him just sleep for now, poor boy. Did you find out anything?"
"I ..." Hermione hesitated as the embarrassment over everything she'd just witnessed came surging back again. "There's something, but I need to think about it first. Is it alright if we talk about it later? Professor Lupin needs to hear it, too."
Tonks nodded. "Tell us when you're ready. I'll tell Remus about the pensieve. It could be the Solvamus' doing again."
The young witch got up to leave, then hesitated as something occurred to her. "Tonks, that night ... When did you and Professor Lupin arrive? What time did you find us?"
The Auror thought a bit. "We disapparated right after we got confirmation that the potion was a Solvamus. We went to the Weasleys first because we thought you'd be there, and then straight here. Around ten I suppose? I can't be more exact than that because we weren't paying attention to the time." She looked closely at Hermione. "What is it?"
"I got here at eight," the young witch said slowly. "I remember because I was sorry to leave the reception but I wanted to get here early enough to get some real work done. Harry and I had dinner. We talked, I passed out. That means ... I was unconscious for over an hour."
"Hermione?" Tonks started forward. "What's wrong?"
"I ..." Hermione swallowed and shook her head. "I have an idea but I have to check some things first."
"Alright." With concern in her eyes, the woman watched the younger girl leave the room as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Poor girl. Poor Harry. And yet she could not help thinking that Harry was also lucky. Despite what had happened, his friends had not abandoned him. Tonks wondered, though, how much longer that would last.
A/N: This chapter's a bit longer than the last. It also contains one of the last one-sided "dream sequences," meaning most of what happens next between Harry and Hermione will actually take place, as opposed to just being one of Harry's dreams. I really enjoy the reviews (111 at the last count, yay!), so here's hoping for more. ;)