Bearings
Disclaimer/Author's Notes: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. I just realized that the next several chapters all take place during one day (as well as the last few). I promise once this day ends things will accelerate a bit. This chapter attempts to fix some of HBP's shortcomings, in my mind.
Hope dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
Winding in and winding out
The shine of it has caught my eye
Dashboard Confessional
Vindicated
Chapter Eight: The Heart of the Matter
May 17th, 2002 (continued)
"Well, at first he seemed to think I was someone else," Hermione said, motioning for her mother to follow her in to the living room. Once there, they both settled into comfortable positions in the recliners.
"Someone else?" her mum asked.
"Yeah, he was calling out `Erin' and running up to me," Hermione continued. She brushed some hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "I thought I recognized the voice but I was looking into my cab at that point, but when I did finally look out it really was him." She sighed softly.
"He just totally stopped for a moment-his eyes were glassy-but then they cleared and he looked really surprised to see me, almost like he couldn't believe it."
Jane laughed. "He probably was! He hadn't seen you in a long time…and let's face it, Hermione. You've grown up a bit in the four years."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, curious.
"Well, just look at you. You're in much better shape than you ever were at school. Must have been a real eye-opener for Harry," she explained, winking at Hermione, who blushed slightly.
"Oh mum, come on. I saw him that Christmas, and I haven't changed that much since then."
Jane shrugged and rested her hands across her tummy. "Think what you want, dear," she said, enigmatically.
Hermione had wondered what Harry was thinking in that first second or two when he seemed to be quite far away, and now that she was reliving the experience with her mother, she couldn't help wondering again. She would have to ask Harry at some point.
"Anyways," her mum said, breaking across her thoughts, "what happened after that? Were there fireworks and a spectacular kiss, or was it awkward?" Hermione noticed a twinkle in her mother's eyes. She loved every minute of this.
"I think you're enjoying this too much, mum."
"What? You just spent two weeks in America with Mr. McGorgeous-"
"Mum!"
Jane laughed. "Well, I'm right! He's damn easy on the eyes, Hermione. So, come on, how did it go?"
Hermione mumbled under her breath for a moment, trying to misdirect her mind before it could call up memories of what Harry and her had done in bed…that morning? Was it still the same day? By date it wasn't, she realized, but they had both been up since then, more or less. And she failed miserably, because now that was all she could think about. His fingers rubbing over-
She shifted in her seat. Damn him! He wasn't even here and he was making her wet. She needed to find her suddenly absent self-control, though a part of her, probably the one that was leaking at the moment, wondered if she had ever really had any.
"There were neither fireworks nor any immediate awkwardness," she finally said, answering her mum's earlier question. She discreetly passed a hand over lap, vanishing away the evidence of her rebellious thoughts. She thought she saw her mother smirk, however. Just how perceptive was Jane Granger?
"I find it hard to believe that it was an uneventful reunion," Jane said.
"Not exactly uneventful, either. Naturally, we bantered back and forth for a bit, but then we started talking about why he never wrote back and where I would be staying."
"Why didn't he write back?"
"He forgot," Hermione answered, frowning slightly. She held up a hand when her mother opened her mouth. "It's alright, I'm over it. I can almost understand why that happened, now." She then grinned. "And of course I directly told him that I would be staying in his room."
Jane's eyebrows shot up. "Oh really, Miss Hermione Jane?"
"There a problem, mum?" Hermione asked, raising her one of her own eyebrows.
Jane laughed and said, "No, of course not, but I would have loved to see his reaction."
"He wasn't exactly against it-"
"I wonder why-"
"-but he wasn't totally comfortable at first, either," Hermione said, ignoring her mother's mumbled words. "I conjured a second bed, as there was plenty of space, and he didn't really have a problem after that."
"Meet any of his friends?"
"Yeah…just about all of his teammates and the Erin he thought I was."
"Teammates?" Jane asked, confused.
Hermione realized her mother didn't know about the baseball, and what it possibly meant for Harry's future. She didn't know if she could tell her mother all of it right now, without talking more with Harry about it. She settled on as little information as possible.
"He played baseball for his school," she said.
"I bet your father would love to talk to him about that," Jane said, rolling her eyes in Hermione's direction.
Laughing, Hermione agreed. Her father was a strange one-and Englishman who preferred baseball. Men like that were few and very far between in the UK.
"So this Erin girl, she looked like you?"
Hermione shook her head. "She's much prettier."
Jane was silent for a few seconds and then said, "Why do you do that to yourself, Hermione?"
"Do what?"
"Belittle yourself. Harry obviously thought you were very similar to his friend-which is an issue entirely of itself-so you should assume that you are at least her equal in that department."
"But I'm not, mum," Hermione argued, slightly frustrated now. She'd had this very same argument with her mother many times over the years, though with different catalysts each time. Erin was just the newest in a long line.
"Look at my bushy hair," she said, running her hand through her hair; "and my buck teeth," she said pointing at mouth; "and my flat chest and small hips."
"Hermione!" her mother scolded. "Stop that! You haven't had `bushy' hair since you were eighteen…you just had to grow into it. You fixed your own teeth, if you'll remember correctly. And as for your chest and your hips, you've filled out into a very good looking young woman in the past few years." She paused for a moment.
"But-"
"I'd wager that if Harry were here, after he got over his embarrassment, he'd agree with everything I just said. And then he'd probably say something about how none of that mattered to him, and how you'd always be his friend…or something else…no matter what."
"You don't know what Harry would say," Hermione said, quietly.
"Sure I do. He's the only person you ever talked about when you were home from Hogwarts, and if you remember our little discussion before you left for America, I do know some of what you think about each other."
"Mum…"
"Hermione, I don't know what it will take to make you see your own self worth, but I have a good idea it is that young man that just left a few minutes ago."
She wanted to cry, but knew she couldn't. Harry was hers, no matter what, so she couldn't argue with her mother. The end of her two weeks in America had been amazing, for both the physicality and deeper connection she had felt…
Hermione wanted Harry to be in her arms at that moment, but he was off doing who knew what. He was being Harry Potter, without even trying to, and she knew it. She just hoped that she fit in there somewhere, because there was really no turning back now. She had, at some point during the last twenty-four hours, become totally invested in her longtime bestfriend.
The silence stretched over the room for a while longer, and then Hermione finally looked up at her mother. Jane was scrutinizing her closely. Hermione shifted again in her seat and just looked at her mum, saying nothing.
"There is one thing that I've always wondered," Jane asked, contemplatively. "Harry really was the only person you ever talked about, except during your sixth year. Your other friend, Ron, became your focus for a short time. Why?"
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. A truly obscene and absurd image of a menage a trios with Ron, Harry, and herself flit across her consciousness-Ron was at her face and Harry was between her legs-and she couldn't suppress the bemused smile that etched across her lips.
"Smiling now? That's good," her mother commented.
"Just thought of something ridiculous, is all," Hermione said, and then thought about her response. "How much do you remember of what I told you about my fourth, fifth, and six years?"
"Let's see here…Harry was involved in some kind of dangerous tournament and you really wanted him to ask you to that ball in fourth year…Harry was angsty and withdrawn and you really wanted to snog him senseless fifth year…and-here's the part I don't get-Harry faded to the background and you went chasing after Ron your sixth year."
Had she told her mother that much? Hermione honestly couldn't remember, but her observations were spot on nonetheless. Mothers were too insightful sometimes!
"Something like that," Hermione said, dryly. "I'm glad you've reduced all of our various problems down to a sentence or two."
"I try," Jane grinned.
"You realize that what I'm about to tell you I've never told anyone, right?" Hermione asked.
"That's what I'm here for, you know," her mum responded. "I'm sure Harry will hear it at some point, also."
Ignoring her mother's presumptions, Hermione continued: "I think I knew from the moment Harry went off to face Voldemort alone in first year that I loved him…or at least whatever my twelve-year-old brain considered love to be. And it wasn't because he was the legendary Boy Who Lived. It was because he jumped on the back of a troll to save my life, someone that the rest of the school had completely forgotten about; because he actually wanted and needed my help and friendship; and because he would sacrifice his own life to save people that didn't even appreciate him.
"It was pretty dormant until the end of third year, when he and I embarked on our little time-traveling adventure. There has been almost nothing more exhilarating or terrifying than meddling with the fabric of time with Harry, and then to see him fight over one hundred Dementors with his Patronus, at thirteen no less, was truly amazing. The ride back on Buckbeak, clinging to him…I'll never forget. He loved every minute of the flight, and I loved every second of holding on to him," Hermione said, the story now flowing from her lips. She wasn't even looking at anything in particular. She was seeing things as they had happened in her mind's eye.
"Fourth year came around and he somehow got stuck in the middle of the Triwizard Tournament. I guess I should have expected it, but I was terrified for him. It was meant for seventh years and was very challenging for even them. I helped him as much as I could, even acting as an intermediary between him and Ronald when the jealousy thing happened-that got old, fast-both because I was his friend and I wanted to and also because I had hoped he would start seeing me as something more. The Yule Ball was incentive for that, but the closer it got, the less hope I had. Viktor Krum finally asked me, and I had to accept because I had no idea what Harry was doing.
"Right around then I realized that Ron liked me, or thought he did, which led to the disaster after the Yule Ball, but that was more my fault than his. Sure, I was angry that Ron was so insensitive, but I was angrier with myself for not asking Harry. He'd clearly had a bad time with his date, and I just knew that if he had gone with me, we both would have had a wonderful time. The third task was a complete catastrophe and I thought for sure that Harry was dead, so when he suddenly showed up with Cedric's body I was understandably overwhelmed. The year ended before I could really form a coherent thought in his presence.
"That summer worsened things, if anything, because of the Dementors that attacked him. When he showed up at Grimmauld Place, I forgot myself for a short time and launched myself at him. It was a hug of love, not one of desperation, which he thought it was. Of course, my affection toward Harry, platonic or not, made Ron jealous-again-so I fought with him most of the year about that. Harry was still adjusting to witnessing Cedric's death and the rebirth of Voldemort, so he was having attitude problems all year. Cho Chang-some girl-and he had something for a little while that year, but I'm still not sure exactly what it was. He must have thought Ron and I were already warming up by then, because he went to Cho instead of me for comfort."
Hermione smirked and said, "It goes without saying that ended in disaster…just like the year did, actually. The battle in the Department of Mysteries was stupid and reckless, but somehow we weren't all killed." She focused on her mother, who had been listening attentively the entire time.
"I've never thought of telling anyone this, but when that curse cut me down, it didn't knock me out right away. The pain was excruciating, but I could fight it just enough to hear the sheer and utter panic in Harry's voice when he saw me fall. It was unreal. I remember thinking before I passed out that possibly he and I had a chance, which was an odd thought considering the circumstances.
"Anyways, when I was recovering I became so frustrated with everything that had happened that I guess I let my hormones or whatever take control. I was angry with everyone, but Harry always seemed to be there to take it out on. I yelled at him for using the potions textbook, for trying to comfort me after an historic row with Ron, and for leaving me in the dark for so long about was really going on in his life. I was trying to put distance between him and I for reasons I can't fathom, and I also knew that Ron had a crush on me.
"That would have been fine, except I didn't like him in that way and whenever we were together we fought uncontrollably. Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley will always be remembered for shaking the very foundations of the castle with their arguments," she said, with little humor.
"And what will Hermione Granger and Harry Potter be remembered for?" Jane asked, interrupting the flow of the story for the first time.
"I'm not sure," Hermione answered. "I don't think that part has been written yet. What I do know is that by the end of sixth year, things had changed. Ron and I had both acknowledged that we weren't going to work, but by then he'd had his eyes on Luna anyway. Harry broke up with Ginny the day of Dumbledore's funeral, and that was inevitable because Neville and her had always seemed drawn toward each other. I think she just needed to get over her crush on the Boy Who Lived…"
----------
Hermione bid Ron, Luna, and Neville farewell and exited the compartment into the interior hallways of the Express. She had no idea where Ginny and Harry were, and she intended to find them. The return journey from Hogwarts had been a subdued affair so far, understandably so though because of the funeral earlier that morning. She still found it hard to believe that Headmaster Dumbledore was really dead, and perhaps if she had listened to Harry at all during the year he wouldn't be…
She could beat herself up over her guilt later, however. Right now, she wanted to find Harry and make sure he wasn't doing the same thing. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like to watch as that bastard Snape killed Dumbledore, but she knew that it would only add to her best friend's nightmares.
Slowly, she made her way back through the train, passing nary a soul. Every student was cooped up in a compartment, surrounded by his or her closest friends. They were seeking comfort in this time of despair, and little else. As she neared the rear of the long scarlet train, occupied compartments grew few and far between, and she still hadn't found Harry. She was beginning to worry that for some reason he wasn't on the train, but when she came to the very last one, she found him.
She looked through the glass panel in the door at her longtime friend. He was on the far side of the compartment, cheek resting against the window, staring vacantly and forlornly at the passing countryside. All the life had gone out of him, and he was slumped over a bit. Even his hair, usually unable to be tamed, had gone limp. Her heart cracked a bit at the sight.
Why hadn't she been there more for Harry during the past year? As she went over everything that had happened during their sixth year in her mind, she became angrier and more frustrated with herself. How had she just blown him off so casually, after all they'd been through together? She still had feelings for Harry, and if anything they had gotten stronger during the past year, somehow. Seeing him like this…she just wanted to curl up with him and make him believe that everything would be all right.
Everything was not all right, however. Dumbledore, the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared, was dead. The resistance was scattered and would likely fall apart with its leader gone. The Ministry was floundering in a lack of resources and manpower. On the other hand, Voldemort had never had more momentum. It seemed like the good side was slowly losing the war, however many battles they had previously won. And Hermione knew that all of these concerns weighed heavily on Harry's shoulders, considering the Prophecy and what it meant.
She didn't know how he did it-stay sane with so much responsibility on his shoulders. All of her insecurities of the past year seemed incredibly insignificant when she compared them to what Harry was going through, and that crack through her heart widened a little. She hadn't been there for Harry when he needed her most, because she had let her feelings get in the way of everything. She had wondered why Harry hadn't reciprocated, and had taken out that rage on Ron over the past year, but she understood now. He had more important things on his mind. She vowed then and there to help him and be with him, and if something developed there, then so be it.
She slid the door open and slipped in. Harry's eyes went to her for a moment and then he looked back out of the window. More than anything else, the absence of any greeting for her hurt her the most; she knew then that the rift between them had grown more than she had fathomed.
"Harry," Hermione said, softly, sitting next to him on the bench.
After a moment: "What is it, Hermione?" There was a resigned sigh underneath his words.
"I've been trying to find you," she said, laying a hand on his arm. He had taken his robes off at some point and was wearing jeans and a shirt.
"Well, now you've found me," he said.
She fished for what to say for a moment. How could she break through his stupor? "I think I'm going to come right to Privet Drive with you."
Finally, he turned away from the window and looked at her. His eyes, normally vivacious, were dull. The green was muted and the pupils were slightly dilated.
"You should be with your parents, Hermione."
"I should be with you," she responded, biting her lip against the unexpected surge of emotion. She could feel it building up behind her eyes. She would not cry right now. Harry didn't need a weeping girl at the moment, especially one that had drifted away from him.
"What about Ron?" Harry asked, in a neutral tone. "You two looked cozy during the funeral." There were no accusations in his voice. He was just stating an observation.
"He was a shoulder to lean on, Harry," Hermione said, wanting to nip this in the bud. "Ron and I…we were never going to work out, so we decided to keep it as just best friends."
Surprise colored Harry's features momentarily, but it faded away as quickly as it had come. He had must of really thought she and Ron were together. She wasn't surprised, though, with how she'd acted all year.
"I see," he eventually said, now staring straight ahead. "Anyways, you should go home and be with them."
"I told you I would be with you on this, as did Ron," she reminded him. It sounded too pleading for her liking, and she could feel that pressure behind her eyes again.
"Neither of you have to come to Privet Drive. I could just meet you both at the Burrow after a week. My relatives are horrible, Hermione. You don't want to meet them."
"All the more reason for me to come," she responded, tightening her grip on his arm slightly. "I'd like to finally put them in their place…I am of age."
He turned toward her. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I care about you, Harry, and I am your friend."
He made no response, instead turning back toward the window again. The feeling behind her eyes was fighting desperately to get out, and his nonverbal brushing off of her words was enough impetus for it to do just that. The first tear leaked from the corner of an eye and down her cheek.
"Harry?" she asked, and he must have heard the emotion in her voice, because he looked at her again. His eyes tracked the progress of the tear, and then returned to her eyes.
"Don't cry, Hermione…" It only made the tears come faster.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, trying to control herself but finding it difficult. He looked bewildered for a moment, and then turned slightly so he could wrap his arms around her. A sob escaped her throat at the tender gesture from her friend, and she returned the embrace. She curled into his side and put her head against his chest.
"For what?" he asked, surprise still in his voice.
"For everything," she cried, trying to avoid totally breaking down in his arms. "For not listening to you this past year, for being such a bitch toward you, drifting away… There's really no reason, other than my own stupidity."
"You could never be stupid, Hermione," he said, calmly. "We all had pressure on us last year, and none of us are perfect. I wondered what was going on sometimes, but I trusted you enough to know there was a good reason."
She couldn't form words anymore, and just cried into his chest, shaking both their bodies with the force of her emotion. Here she was explaining to him that there was not a good reason for what had happened, and he brushed it off and was holding her like nothing had changed. He literally had the weight of the world on his shoulders and he was comforting her and her trivial insecurities. Where would she be without Harry Potter? Probably killed by a troll during her first year.
"Oh, Harry," was all she eventually said, and stayed in his arms for long after.
The gentle rocking motion of the train greeted her as she slipped in and out of consciousness for an indeterminate length of time.
Finally, total awareness seeped back into her, and she realized her head was still pressed into Harry's chest. She tilted it slightly, seeing that he was staring out of the window once again. He blinked and his attention shifted, and his eyes met hers. The corners of his lips lifted.
"Feel better?" he asked.
She didn't move or respond immediately, instead allowing herself a moment of pure bliss, sheltered and protected and loved in Harry Potter's arms. It couldn't last, though, and she knew it. Sighing, blowing some hair out of her face, she sat up and withdrew slightly from his embrace. He let her go.
"I guess."
"Hermione…" he said, but trailed off. His eyes turned toward the view, as if looking for reassurance, and then sought hers.
"What is it?" she asked.
"If we're really going to do this…this task…we need to put whatever has come between us in the past. You, Ron, and I need to move forward if we have any hope or chance of really doing this."
"But-"
"No buts," Harry cut her off, and she felt a flicker of something along her nerves. "After this is all over, we can talk about what's been going on, but until then, we can't afford distractions."
His voice had changed pitch a little, and that something she had felt could only be his magic straining to break free. He was passionate about this, and his body responded accordingly. His `leader' voice did something else to her nerves, but she didn't want to think about that at moment. The other thing she noticed is that he'd talked about the future as if it could actually exist. Where had his fatalism run off to? She wasn't complaining, however.
"Ok, Harry," she said, leaning slightly into his side again. "Where are we?"
"About an hour from London."
"Wonder what the others are doing?" Hermione asked. He shrugged, and that tingling sensation within her nervous system subsided. His magic had quieted down. Time passed rather quickly in a companionable silence, with the light contact between their bodies maintained, and soon enough the warning whistle for arrival in London sounded. Reluctantly, Hermione stood up to go find her luggage, pulling Harry along with her.
----------
"Do you remember that day at the Station?" Hermione asked her mother, breaking the flow of her story. Jane's eyes cleared and Hermione watched her think about it.
"Yes," she responded, slowly. "I remember a bit of a row between you and your father and I."
"Recall what it was about?"
"Oh yes," Jane said, laughing now. "You wanted to go stay with two boys for a week instead of coming home immediately."
Hermione smiled from her curled up position in the armchair. The warm feeling from remembering being in Harry's arms still pooled somewhere near her navel. She continued to tell the story…
----------
"We would really like you to come home, Hermione," her father said, in a tone that indicated he expected no further argument. He must have forgotten who his daughter was though, because she wasn't backing down. She would not let Harry suffer through another hour alone with his relatives, let alone a week.
"I will in a week," she responded, reiterating what she'd already said three or four times. A staring contest ensued between Dan and her, and in her peripheral vision she saw Ron and Harry watching the interchange. They had slightly awkward expressions on their faces. Hermione had heard Mrs. Weasley's words for her son, but he seemed to have prevailed already.
"You've just buried your Headmaster, dear," her mother said, trying to come between the lorry and brick wall that was her husband and her daughter.
"I bloody well know that," Hermione retorted, too frustrated to care about her language. Her mother looked shocked and her father's face became even redder.
"You will not talk to your mum in such a way!" he said. "I don't know why you think you have to go with Harry," he continued, glancing at the black-haired boy, "instead of coming home to see your parents. We barely see you anymore."
"I'll be home in a week!" she exclaimed, exasperated at her father's obstinacy. "We're back two weeks early this year, anyway, so what's the problem?"
"We're worried about you, Hermione," her mother said, placing a placating hand on Dan's arm. He bit back whatever he was going to say. "Your letters this year seemed awfully…strained."
"Well, they were," she replied. "That doesn't change the fact that I will be spending a week with Harry and Ron, and then I will be coming home." Hermione considered this conversation to be over with, and glared defiantly at her parents.
Dan looked like he wanted to say something further, but he deflated after a moment, shaking his head. He reached for his daughter, embraced her, and whispered for her to be safe. Jane lingered after Dan had turned away, and then hugged Hermione. She also whispered for Hermione to be safe, but added something else after, which made Hermione blush a deep red. She locked eyes with her mum and nodded. Jane smiled and turned away, catching up to her retreating husband.
Ron and Harry slowly wandered over, looking warily at her parents as they left the station. Both seemed more intently focused on her father, as if there was some universal gene encoding a fear of girls' fathers.
"Everything all right?" Harry asked, as Ron and him flanked her. It was their natural position, but it had been sometime since it occurred. She almost hugged them both tightly, right then. They started moving toward the exit.
"It is now," she responded.
"So your relatives didn't show up, Harry?" Ron asked.
He shrugged. "Guess not."
"How are we getting there then?" their redhead friend asked.
"I figured we'd just Apparate into the back yard. There's a high fence around it, so no one will see us," Harry answered. Hermione saw red tinge Ron's cheeks.
"Uh Harry…I can't Apparate yet…"
"Yeah, I know," Harry responded. "I'll just side-along you for now, but we need to get you your license soon. Sometime before the wedding would be ideal."
"Side-along, Harry? You sure you can do that?" Hermione asked, skeptical, though a small voice in her mind reminded her this was Harry Potter, not some average wizard.
"Sure. I Apparated Dumbledore and I from the south of England to Hogsmeade." His voice lost some of its luster toward the end of that statement. Hermione chose not to comment on how unnatural that ability was for a new Apparator.
"You're going to have to side-along us both then," Hermione pointed out. "I don't know where your house is."
"It's not my house," Harry corrected, though he motioned for them to each grab one of his arms. Hermione rolled her eyes at his naivete.
"One at a time, Harry." He locked eyes with her for a second, looked to see that Ron had grabbed his arm, and smirked at her. Before she could do anything, he grabbed her hand and she underwent the compression-like feeling of Apparition. There was a faint crackle of magical discharge as the three left the station, but no pop.
The first thing that greeted her returning vision in the backyard of his house was a small bolt of energy, arcing out from the three of them and snapping toward the antenna on the roof. It faded as quickly as she had seen it. She looked over at Harry and Ron, seeing that they were all in one piece. Harry hardly seemed affected-under normal circumstances a triple Apparition would have knocked the wind out of a witch or wizard. Harry wasn't normal, obviously.
"You make that look easy, mate," Ron said. Harry shrugged, giving his best male friend his lop-sided smile. It faded, and he looked toward the house.
"Well, this is it," he said, wanly. "Don't expect much of a positive reception."
"You sure I can't hex them?" Hermione asked, coyly, twirling her wand in her fingers. Harry watched the whirling piece of wood, probably wondering when she'd picked up that particular skill, and then shook his head.
"Let's just be as unobtrusive as possible for this week," he stated.
Suffice it to say, Petunia and Vernon Dursley were very unhappy that Harry and two of his `freak' friends would be staying with them for one more lousy week out of their miserable lives, but eventually they yielded when Hermione casually reminded them she was of age and legally free to do magic if she chose to. The wand in her hand might have been persuasive, as well.
The second day of their stay, Ron had to return to the Burrow briefly to pick up some food, since he was `dying' of hunger. Harry volunteered to Apparate him there and back, and when they were gone Hermione set about changing and enlarging Harry's room. She vanished the horrible bed and furniture, increased the dimensions threefold, and conjured much more comfortable sleeping arrangements for the three of them. She was careful not to disturb an of Harry's precious possessions, which she had found tucked away under a loose floorboard.
She contemplated bringing her wand to bear on Harry's aunt and uncle after that, but was stopped in her tracks by that tingle along her nerves again. She had last felt it on the train, and it could only mean Harry's magic was flowing once again. She raced out of the room, heart pounding madly, but stopped when she heard a loud sizzle of energy coming from the rear of the house. She Apparated out there and was surprised at what she saw. Harry and Ron had returned, but Ginny, Luna, and Neville were also with them.
All four of them were holding onto Harry in some way or another, and each except Ron looked slightly bewildered. There was some color high on Harry's cheeks, but otherwise he looked unfazed after an unheard of quintuple Apparition.
"You're not supposed to be able to do that, Harry," Luna said, in her characteristically airy inflection.
"Everyone keeps telling me that," he said, laughing.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, indicating with a hand the rest of her question. He looked around briefly, and then motioned them all toward the patio.
"You're wondering what they're doing here?" he asked her. She nodded. "Well, it seems they don't like being left out, and were lying in wait for whenever Ron decided to show up for some food, since they apparently knew he would." Ron smiled and pulled a small package out of his pocket. He set it on the ground and enlarged it, and already Hermione could smell Mrs. Weasley's home cooking wafting out of it.
"They were all being fairly stubborn about the whole thing, and I realize that I could have just Apparated Ron and I back here, but I made the split-second decision that we could use your help." He was addressing Ginny, Luna, and Neville more than Hermione now.
"You three have been invaluable during the past two years, and I wish we could have been better friends before then, but that's beside the point. Ron, Hermione, and I are going to be getting involved in something extremely dangerous; it's a task left to me by Dumbledore, and it involves the eventual downfall of Voldemort…"
Hermione was impressed that none of the six of them flinched at that Dark wizard's name, and listened as Harry recounted much of what he'd recently told Ron and her. Luna seemed particularly disgusted that Voldemort would use something as Dark as a horcrux, but otherwise the three of them listened fairly stoically. Hermione wondered if they should be privy to all of this information, but she trusted Harry. If he wanted to include them, she wouldn't argue. They could definitely use and would probably need their help at some point.
"But I don't understand something," Ginny interrupted. Harry looked at her, motioning for her to go on. "Why does it have to be you to do all of this?" Hermione thought Ginny was handling herself remarkably well for just having broken up with him. She wondered about that.
"Didn't you say something yesterday about me not being happy unless I was hunting Voldemort?" Harry asked her, grinning. Hermione looked sharply at the younger girl, but Ginny seemed to be suitably chastised just by the memory of it. "Seriously, though," Harry continued, "the Prophecy we all thought was lost at the Ministry of Magic wasn't entirely-Dumbledore heard the original."
He then told Ginny, Luna, and Neville the full Prophecy, and they were understandably a little shocked at the implications. Hermione still couldn't entertain the thought of Harry dueling Voldemort to the death.
"Now that you know all of the information, and everything that Ron, Hermione and I will be doing, I want to give you this chance to leave, no questions asked. I'll bring you back to the Burrow with no hard feelings." His voice lost some of its volume as his thoughts turned inward. "This isn't going to be easy, or fun, and I would be lying if I said I didn't expect some horrible things to happen to one or all of us. But that's the price I'm willing to pay. If it has to be me to get rid of that sick fuck, then so be it. I don't want to drag any of you down with me, though," he finished, looking quietly at all of them, not just the three newcomers. Hermione had goose bumps on her arms from the magic that had bled into the air around them. Harry had to stop doing that!
"Harry." It was Luna. They all looked to her. "I think I speak for all of us when I say I will be by your side when you do rid the world of that sick fuck." Harry and by proxy the rest of them were silent for a moment, absorbing her words and the shock her rare use of profanity brought, but he soon grinned at her.
"Thanks, Luna," he said, looking at the rest of them as they nodded. Just then, a loud grumble from Ron's stomach cut across the afternoon air, and they laughed. They dove into the delicious food, and Hermione was almost looking forward to the task ahead of them. With Harry by her side-and the four others-it couldn't be so bad. She then realized she would have to further enlarge his room.
----------
"And the rest of that week passed rather uneventfully," Hermione concluded. She had been talking for so long her throat was dry, so she conjured a glass of water and drank deeply. Setting it down, she said, "The six of us grew much closer because we were all in that one room." Her thoughts then turned inevitably to how they had since grown apart, starting from the end of the war.
"You came home for about two weeks after, right?" Jane asked. Her mother looked very comfortable in her chair. Hermione supposed listening to the rather lengthy story had helped with that.
"That's right. I remember you and Dad and I did many things together," Hermione answered, smiling fondly at the memories.
"We weren't sure what was going on in your life; we knew it was dangerous, and we wanted to make the most of your time at home," Jane commented. "Someday, Hermione, you're going to have to tell me the rest of that story."
"The rest?"
"Yes…the rest. As in, how six teenagers brought an end to a war."
Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. There were things all of them had done that were better buried in the past…
"Some day, perhaps," she said.
"Why haven't you told me at least that much before?" Jane asked, maybe sensing some of Hermione's discomfort.
"Never came up, I guess," she responded.
"Hmm," Jane intoned, and then looked at her wrist. Her eyebrows shot up. "Where did the time go? I have to get to work," her mum said, and stood up. Hermione sat in the chair as her mother busied herself getting ready to leave. Soon thereafter, Jane crossed back through the living room and leaned down to peck Hermione on the cheek.
"Have a good day, dear. Thanks for sharing all of that with me." The sincerity in her mother's voice moved Hermione, and she smiled warmly.
"You too, mum, and it was no problem." In truth, it was very cathartic, telling that story.
The door closed behind Jane and Hermione was alone in the house. An easy silence stretched across the minutes as Hermione busied herself with her memories of that summer after sixth year, and how it had changed all of them. Her mind then wandered to the past two weeks, and a feeling of contentment spread through her soul. Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World, vanquisher of the most evil Dark Lord in centuries, was maybe falling in love with her. She smiled and sighed, settling deep into the chair-
A waft of displaced air distracted her from her thoughts, and she looked up to find the man of her thoughts standing in front of her. He had Apparated directly into her living room, silent as a ghost. His face held his classic bewildered look.
"Harry," she said, smiling and standing up. She moved toward him and they embraced, though she could tell it was only half-heartedly on his part. Something must be on his mind. They sat on the couch; she faced him and looked him in the eyes. He was definitely distracted about something.
"Everything ok?" she asked.
He nodded. "Now it is, but it's been one hell of a morning." He looked at her with his loopy grin.
"Why don't you tell me all about it," she suggested, leaning against him. He wrapped an arm around her and they leaned back against the cushions. She waited for him to start telling her whatever was on his mind, and fleetingly she thought of how far Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had come from that day on the Express so long ago.
-->