No Longer Alone

T.C. Geralds

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 14/07/2003
Last Updated: 07/10/2003
Status: paused

After the events of Harry's fifth year at Hogworts, he finds himself spiraling into a deep depression. Can someone help him save himself, or will he give in to despair?

Chapters

1. Edge of Despair

2. An end to solitude

3. Revelations

4. Repercussions and Discovery

5. Loss and Anger

6. Important Lessons

1. Edge of Despair

Tim Colon Tim Colon 3 144 2003-07-14T04:04:00Z 2003-07-14T04:04:00Z 1 887 5061 Personal Use 42 11 5937 10.3501 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Harry Potter sighed, alone in his room. The August night was sweltering in Little Whinging, and even with the windows open, there was no reprieve from the heat. Hedwig was out hunting; who knew when she would return. No, Harry thought, staring out the open window of his room in Number Four Privet Drive - I am alone.

It had only been two weeks since the events at the end of Harry’s fifth year at Hogworts. Two weeks of reliving Sirius’s death nightly in his dreams. Two weeks of waking up screaming, seeing Sirius pass beyond the veil once more. Two weeks of lying in bed as the tears came, followed by a vain effort at falling back asleep before the sun’s rays came streaming in through his window to announce another miserable day’s arrival.

Thanks to the words Harry’s friends had spoken to the Dursleys at the train station at the end of term, Harry had been able to keep in contact with everyone from the wizarding world. Ron and Hermione had both sent him letters, asking how he was and attempting to comfort him. Harry wrote back, but his responses were full of what he knew they wanted to hear. Yes, he was fine. Yes, he was looking forward to finishing up summer at the Burrow with Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys. Yes, he would be ready for Arthur Weasley’s arrival via flue powder.

Harry looked at the calendar and sighed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would be leaving his aunt and uncle’s home and going to spend the last two weeks of the summer holiday with his friends. He should be happy. So why, thought Harry miserably, wasn’t he? Maybe somewhere in the awful past year, he had forgotten how to be happy. Perhaps all the negative things that had happened his fifth year at Hogworts had at last crushed his spirit. He chuckled at that thought. Harry Potter, the invincible boy who lived, who stymied the dark lord at every turn. He felt…broken. What would people think if they could see me now, he thought?

She was worried. The letters seemed ordinary enough, if you didn’t know Harry well. She, however, knew him better than perhaps anyone else.

He was hurting. No, it was worse than that. Harry had been hurt before. She knew THAT better than anyone else too. This was deeper, worse. It was like his spirit, the thing that made Harry special, was gone. His letters lacked life, spark. Sirius’s death had been some kind of awful final blow, the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Hermione only prayed that being back amongst his friends would heal Harry’s heart….before it was torn asunder completely.

Mr. Weasley was right on time the following day, and after the usual cold send-off from the Dursleys, they were off to the burrow. Harry took a moment to recover from the temporary vertigo that always followed travel by flue powder, and saw a familiar face waiting for him in the Weasley living room.

“Harry! So good to see you my dear!” Mrs. Weasley gave him her patented hug, the one that had always brought a wonderful feeling of HOME to him. Harry smiled, and returned the hug, but there was little feeling in it. Sirius was dead. There was no home. Not anymore.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you all,” he said with that same painted-on smile. “You are too good to me.”

“Nonsense! We love having you over, you know that silly! And of course Ron….”

As if mention of his name had made him appear, the red-haired boy in question came bounding into the room. “About time! I just got the latest issue of Quidditch weekly, and they have this move you HAVE to see! We can break out our brooms after lunch and try it out. Let’s get your things moved up to my room and get you settled in.”

The sound of footsteps coming down the old staircase cut short Ron’s tirade, and Harry looked up to see Hermione and Ginny. Ginny smiled and gave Harry a quick hug before hurrying out the door, leaving the three friends alone in the living room with Mrs. Weasley.

Hermione beamed at Harry, and quickly pulled him into an embrace. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said in his ear as she held him. Then, stepping away and speaking louder so Ron would hear as well, she continued. “We’ve missed you. Being together for the last two weeks of break will be great! We can get our books together, read together….”

Ron groaned, and Hermione laughed. “Ok ok. You know I am teasing, we will do more than just read and shop for school things.”

“You’re right we will! I have so many things planned, you’ll see.” Ron had that dangerous ‘I’m planning things that will likely get us into trouble’ look. Hermione turned to get Harry’s opinion on the idea of Ron’s “plans,” and noticed he wasn’t even paying much attention to their conversation. He had a distant look in his eyes, and his face was locked in a small frown.

“Are you ok Harry?”

Lifeless eyes turned to look at her. “Yes, I’m fine Hermione. Come on Ron, let’s get this stuff upstairs.”

Letting out a long sigh, Hermione hung her head. Feeling something touching her shoulder, she turned around and was surprised to see Molly Weasley looking at her with sympathy. “It will be a while before he is back to himself dear. All you can do is be there for him, and show him that you love him.”

Hermione looked up quickly, panic in her eyes at mention of the word ‘love.’ She met the knowing gaze of Mrs. Weasley, who had a not unkind expression on her face. “No dear, it is not obvious, before you ask. But I can see it quite easily. Maybe one day, he will see it too. Or maybe, you will find it in yourself to tell him.”

Face reddening, Hermione mumbled a reply under her breath and fled up the stairs. God, she thought. If Ron’s mother could tell, who else could? Her thoughts quickly turned to Harry, and the helplessness returned in a rush.

Was there nothing she could do to help him? Did she dare reach out to him with the feelings in her heart? Holding her face in her hands, Hermione Granger wept silently.

2. An end to solitude

Tim Colon Tim Colon 2 197 2003-07-14T04:05:00Z 2003-07-14T04:05:00Z 1 1961 11182 Personal Use 93 26 13117 10.3501 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the delightful world and characters of the Harry Potter universe. I just play in her sandbox, so to speak. Don’t sue me, ok? ;)

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He was flipping through the pages of his album again. He found himself doing that more and more of late – just watching the images of his parents. His mother holding him up proudly in one picture. His father, unruly hair just like his own, waving at the picture taker. He would never know them. How many times had he gone over scenarios in his head, where they were still alive and together as a family? He had lost count. One thing was for certain though…..the time for dreams was past. In a world where Voldemort was free, and loved ones could become casualties at any moment, there was only room for thoughts of vengeance. Feelings beyond that were something that only led to pain.

Harry stood in the field behind the Burrow, where just hours before he had played Quidditch with Ron, flying on his Firebolt at break-neck speeds, trying desperately to feel ALIVE again. Flying was one of the few things left that he enjoyed. He remembered fondly his own laughter, genuine for the first time in weeks, as Ron had failed miserably while attempting a move called the Calamity Defense. Instead of blocking Harry’s quaffle throw, Ron had wound up half off his broom, upside down and looking rather comical.

The moon palely illuminated the field in a half light as Harry silently walked further from the Burrow. The quiet of the evening appealed to him, as did the solitude. He remembered a time not long past where he would have preferred company over solitude.

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Hermione watched him walking across the field from the window in Ginny’s room. Although she sat very still, inside her emotions raged unchecked. The rational part of her brain, the one that she had followed her entire life, was fighting a losing battle against her heart. For years, she had kept her feelings in check. The deepest, most staggering secret of her life dangled, hanging by the thin thread of her will that remained.

She loved him. She had loved him since….well, almost as long as she had known him. The rational part of her mind screamed that it was hopeless; their friendship was too firmly cemented in his mind for there to ever be anything else. There was always something going on, something urgent, that prevented her from telling him anyway: The stone, the chamber, Sirius, Pettigrew, the tri-wizard tournament. Always something. Now, with Sirius’s death and Harry’s depression so deep and horrible, it seemed that once again she wouldn’t be able to tell him.

That wasn’t all though, she was forced to admit to herself. She was afraid. Harry was one of the very few people who saw past the smart muggle-born girl. He saw HER, in a way that frightened her and excited her. The way he KNEW her was so precious a thing – she couldn’t lose it, couldn’t lose him. If she spoke now, everything would change. Nothing would ever be the same again. Oh God, what if he rejects me, she thought. She couldn’t live with that. Harry had become more important to her than anything else….even, Hermione sometimes thought in wonder, her own life. How many times had she stood at his side, ready to give her own life to save his? It was about more than Voldemort to Hermione now. It was about the happiness of a man that had not seen nearly enough of it in his lifetime. The man she loved. And with that thought, she knew what she must do. She had to act.

Why then was her heart hammering in her chest? Why was she having this internal argument with herself? Hermione knew the answer. She could no longer keep her feelings hidden, not when it meant watching him suffer alone. The tears made their way down her cheeks slowly as she watched Harry walk further and further away. Even his walk was different: not the eager step, so full of life that she loved. Harry walked, and acted, like a man that no longer had the will to live. Like a man who knew he was alone amidst a sea of enemies and heartbreak.

But you’re not alone, she thought to herself, her heart making the inevitable decision for her. You’ll never be alone again. She was terrified of what she was about to do. What if he pushed her away? What if he didn’t return her feelings? What if all this did was cost her the most amazing friendship she had ever known? So be it, she vowed silently. Tonight let the loneliness end, for me… and I pray….for him.

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The night was quiet but for the sound of crickets all around him and the low murmur of the brook he stood beside. Staring into the water, Harry let his thoughts wander. What purpose did his life hold besides defeating Voldemort? Now that he had heard the prophecy, he knew one of them must die. He had few illusions as to which of them it would mostly likely be – the dark lord was older, more powerful, and had a greater knowledge of magic than he. Harry knew he would fight anyway, to protect those he loved as best he could.

But what would happen after, even if Harry somehow didn’t die? Which of his friends would still be left when all was said and done? How many more would pay the ultimate price for choosing to care for him, to fight with him, or just by being in the same place at the same time as him, as poor Cedric had? Maybe it would be better for all involved if they had never met him. All he brought with him was pain, and death, and….

“Harry?”

He turned quickly, startled. Standing only a short distance away was his best friend, with an unreadable expression on her face. The moonlight shone down through the trees surrounding the stream, casting her in an almost ethereal glow. Her soft brown eyes were looking at him with an intensity he had never seen before. He was struck, as always, by how naturally beautiful she was; her bushy hair, untamable like his own, her chocolate brown eyes, the quiet courage that he admired so much. I am not worthy of such a friend, he thought, for the millionth time. She is better than I am. She is the best of us. To think, he sometimes dreamed they could be more than just friends. Just by being my friend, she has come close to death on more than one occasion. She has almost died, because of me. Because of ME!

“NO!” He turned; ignoring Hermione’s startled expression, and bolted across the stream, soaking himself in the process. Tearing blindly through the trees and undergrowth, Harry Potter ran from himself, from his past, from the pain of his life. Images played across his mind, wildly blending together into a tapestry of memory: Ron knocked unconscious while fighting across the chessboard, Ron with his leg broken while fighting Sirius, the pale face of Cedric Diggory, lying cold and lifeless in the graveyard. Next the images of Hermione came, most vivid of all: Her lifeless; petrified while trying to unravel the mystery of the basilisk, lying unconscious after fighting the death eaters at the ministry…..

It was too much. Weeping openly, Harry stumbled over an overgrown root and fell heavily to the ground, overcome with the images of his past. Why couldn’t it all just end, he thought. He could close his eyes, and everything would just go….AWAY.

“Harry….please stop.”

It was her voice that calmed him. Like a soothing balm, he let it wash over him, let her presence wash over him. Tears standing in his emerald eyes, he looked up and into the eyes of his friend.

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Such sadness, she thought. Loneliness. No one should have to suffer as he had. She would take that pain if she could, share the burden of it. How she wished she could! There is a way, her mind insisted. A way to share his pain, share his life. Harry may have had to stand alone against Voldemort in the past, and perhaps in the future….but she could make him see he didn’t have to be alone in his heart when he did. A soft smile stole across her lips, and Hermione took the final step in a journey which had lasted almost five long years.

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He saw her smile, a soft bittersweet smile that went straight to his heart. Her hand reached out, and slowly, gently, he felt her fingers softly touch his face.

“You’re not alone, Harry.”

What had she said? His mind struggled to digest it. It was all too much. He couldn’t think….all he could do was look into those eyes, and pray for them to swallow him, devour him, destroy him, make him whole…..

She leaned in close to him then; he could feel her soft breath on his face. In her eyes….was a depth of emotion he had never seen before. He tried to put words to it: longing, hope, something stronger….

All thought fled when her lips touched his. Softly, so softly! Her other hand came up to cup his face tenderly. The kiss lasted only a moment, but to Harry’s mind the moon sat still in the sky for hours while the feel of her lips on his threatened to break him.

Hermione finally pulled away, tears gently tracing tracks down her cheeks. “I love you, Harry Potter. I have loved you for so long. You’re not alone.”

It was like a dam breaking inside him. Sobbing uncontrollably, Harry Potter let a lifetime of sorrow be expressed at last. Burying his face in Hermione’s hair, he wept. He wept for his murdered parents, his miserable childhood with the Dursleys, all the people that were in danger because of him. He wept for those that had died, Cedric and Sirius. Arms almost crushing Hermione to him, the boy who lived let the poison of his solitude drain from him in a torrent.

She let him weep, holding him close and gently rocking him in her arms. Her own tears threatened to overwhelm her, but she knew Harry needed her strength now. At last, he calmed in her embrace, and she thought he had cried himself to sleep in her arms. When he pulled back from her at last, the look in his eyes was something Hermione would never forget as long as she lived. Wonder. Joy.

She trembled as his hand came up to her own face and gently caressed it. Please say the words, she prayed. Oh God, don’t look at me like that and stay silent!

“I love you, Hermione. I always have.” The words came out slowly, cracked and full of emotion. He watched her closely as he said the words, and saw the light in her eyes when they registered. She had never looked so beautiful, he thought in awe….Tears a bright trail down her face in the moonlight, robes wet from the stream, face dirty and scratched from the brambles. At that moment, she was sublime. All Harry could think was how blind he had been.

He leaned into her, and their lips met again. Holding her tightly, he let himself drink her in, lips gently pressed against her own, his hands moving to touch her face, her hair. Euphoria such as he had never dreamed swept through him, threatened to rob him of his senses. It was electric, he could feel her along every inch of him, and he wanted more.

Lying back in the damp grass, Harry brought Hermione down with him, still kissing her softly, exploring her lips with his own. This was joyful discovery, a completeness he had never known. At last releasing her lips to gasp in the night air, Harry lay panting in the moonlight. “God, I love you. I was so blind.” Bending down, he gently kissed away her tears, working up her face tenderly and ending with a soft kiss on each eyelid. Harry Potter stared deep into the eyes of the woman he held, and he knew what love was.

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He loved her. That thought played itself over and over in her mind. Harry loves me. Harry loves me, he loves me too, this must be a dream, must be a dream……only it wasn’t. She gave herself up to her longing, and kissed him with all the feeling she had. She wanted to breathe him in, hold him like this always. Breaking away from another kiss, Hermione smiled at him, her heart in her eyes. “I’ll always be with you, Harry. You’ll never have to be alone again.” His smile was radiant.

Breathless, exhausted, emotionally drained, she lay next to him in the grass, resting her head on his chest, listening to the thunder of his heartbeat. He stirred slightly, running a hand slowly through her hair. She smiled as he twined a strand around his fingers, watching the moonlight play off it. I’ll never forget this night, she thought. Even if he feels different in the morning, I will always have this. Wanting to shout her joy to the world, Hermione smiled.

Sleep stole over them both at last. The sun’s first light found them there still, asleep in each other’s arms.

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Author’s Note: Well, there you have it – Chapter 2 of No Longer Alone. I am hoping to make this a large work, branching out from here into Harry and Hermione’s growing relationship, and how it affects things in the next year at Hogworts. I admit I am a total H/Hr shipper; they are the absolute perfect couple in the HP world, IMHO. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, please drop me a review. =)

3. Revelations

Tim Colon Tim Colon 2 620 2003-07-14T04:05:00Z 2003-07-14T04:05:00Z 1 3834 21858 Personal Use 182 51 25641 10.3501 Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Disclaimer and Thanks: We all know I don’t own Harry Potter. An amazing English lass named Jo Rowling does. I just take all her creations and try to do them justice.

Thanks for all the kind reviews. They really give some incentive to put out quality work! Enjoy the next chapter!

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Blinking his eyes, Harry Potter awoke to find himself lying in the grass. It took a moment for him to register where he was, and more importantly WHO he was with. In a rush, it all came flooding back into him, and for the first morning in a very long time, he did not feel the horrible hopelessness pressing in on his heart. The sorrow was still there, and the large part of Harry that had been forced to grow up early knew it would always be with him………..but now it was no longer the staggering weight that had threatened to crush him. Lying in the damp grass that sunny morning, he smiled. He wasn’t alone.

Feeling the weight on his chest shift, Harry looked down and saw a brilliant pair of brown eyes staring back at him. A faint blush was on her cheeks, one he knew was mirrored on his own -- but there was also that small smile, the one that had driven him to distraction for years. God, he loved that smile; loved being the cause of it. Reaching out, he gently caressed Hermione’s cheek. There were so many things going through his mind at that moment, and he wanted to say the right things to let her know what he was feeling.

Trying desperately to get a handle on his emotions, Harry bent his head and captured her lips with his own. Her eyes closed as his lips touched hers, and he marveled at how something like this, something that had been totally alien to him yesterday, now seemed as natural as breathing. He let himself fall into the kiss, opening all of his senses to her, letting her wash over him. Emotion coursed through his body: need, love, peace. He was AWARE of Hermione now; in a way he hadn’t dreamt possible. There was a connection; felt, not seen, that went beyond words. When he pulled away, he knew what to say to her at last.

“You’re amazing.” Her blush deepened, and Harry let out a soft chuckle in spite of the tenderness of the moment. “And you are even more beautiful than usual when you blush like that,” he said with an impish grin, green eyes twinkling. He marveled at his own daring. She made him WANT to make her smile, make her blush. It wasn’t a new feeling; but he could now get past his own shyness to do it……….a little. He hugged her to his chest.

“Stop it!” Hermione exclaimed, cheeks flaming. Harry’s chuckle turned into a full blown laugh. The tone was pure Hermione; she may as well have been lecturing Harry and Ron in the common room. Pulling her close to him, Harry smiled as he hadn’t smiled in months. After a moment, when her cheeks had returned to their normal color, Hermione smiled back.

They lay there for several minutes, just reveling in the feeling of holding each other in the sunlight. Harry’s only thought was that he wished he could save this moment, this exact moment, and make it last forever. He marveled that he could have thought his feelings for Cho Chang were love. THIS was love, wonderful and terrifying and exuberant.

At last he stirred, and was again met by those amazing eyes. “I love you Hermione Granger. I’ll never be afraid to say it again. I was a fool to hide it for so long.” He knew his face must be glowing like the sun, but he didn’t care. He needed her to know.

“I love you too Harry. So much. All the times I nearly lost you………….” Her voice broke, and Hermione hugged him to her tightly.

“I’m sorry I have put you through all this,” he spoke softly. “All the time I was so caught up in myself, in MY pain, that I never realized………I didn’t see……….you were hurting too……………”

A finger on his lips quieted him. “It’s ok. I think I was hiding from you as much as you were hiding from me.” Her eyes bored into him. “But I’m done hiding my feelings. And I know now that telling you how I felt last night was the smartest thing I have ever done.”

Harry’s mouth turned up in a small smile as he stared off into the trees. “It seems like a dream now. I know its not, but part of me still expects to wake up. I’m done hiding, too.” His face turned serious, thoughtful. “I don’t know what is going to happen now. I don’t think anyone knows for sure, even Dumbledore. But,” he said, eyes looking up to meet hers, “I know we’ll be together when it happens. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” He smiled again, and it lit up his entire face.

Hermione looked at him calmly for a moment. Then, smiling playfully, she turned around and started running back towards the Burrow. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Harry was staring but not following. Placing her hands on her hips, she called out in exasperation, “Well?! I thought you weren’t letting me out of your sight again?” Arching an eyebrow theatrically, she dashed off into the trees, giggling madly.

Grinning, Harry took off at top speed, Hermione’s laughter echoing in his ears. A moment later, an old man dressed in grey robes faded into view in the glen, looking down at the matted grass where the two teenagers had spent the night in each others’ arms. Albus Dumbledore smiled wistfully, staring at the rapidly retreating back of the young wizard he thought of as his adopted son. May you know many more days and nights like these, he thought. If anyone deserves happiness it is you, Harry. The Professor only wished a different road awaited his young charge.

Flourishing his wand, the Headmaster of Hogworts murmured a spell and disappeared.

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Breathless, he finally managed to catch the surprisingly fast young witch near the stream he had crossed the evening before during his wild flight. Carrying her gently to the ground with him, he pinned her down and smiled mischievously. A wicked gleam lit his eyes as Harry brought his arms up………and proceeded to tickle Hermione senseless.

Oh, they had gotten into tickling bouts before, but this was different – Harry felt as if the golden sunlight washing over them both was being absorbed into his body. Fear, doubt, worry………..they were all consumed in the warmth of the newly acknowledged love in Harry’s heart. It’s been there all along, he realized. I just chose not to see it for what it was. I’ve been a fool. He vowed then and there to make every moment with Hermione count, starting now. Grinning, he continued his tickling assault.

She squealed in a most satisfactory way; very un-Hermione-like. She gave as well as she got though, and they were soon both gasping for breath, agreeing to call a temporary truce. Smiling, Harry gave her a quick peck on the lips, nothing like the earlier deep kisses they had shared. He discovered with interest that he liked both kinds. Kissing her made him feel alive; energized. Kissing her made him feel like………he was home. Right then he could gladly have stayed there with her all day, just kissing her until their lips were bruised and the sun was no longer in the sky.

Practicality won out however. Sighing heavily, Harry got to his feet and helped Hermione to hers.

“We’d better get back. The sun’s been up for a while, Ron and everyone will be waking up soon if they haven’t already.” A slightly worried look, not quite panic, crossed his face. “How are we going to tell them? This is very…………”

“Sudden, yes.” Hermione looked towards the Burrow, her brow furrowed in thought. So cute, Harry thought to himself absently. Mentally chiding himself, he focused back in on what she was saying.

“Mrs. Weasley already knows.” Seeing Harry’s look of surprise, she added, “Well, she knew I had feelings for you. I guess I couldn’t hide it from everyone as well as I thought. So it won’t be a surprise to her. I think Ron is the one we have to worry about.”

Harry looked at her closely. She appeared worried; tentative. He made up his mind suddenly. “We’ll just tell him the truth,” he told her. “There is no reason not to. We are all best friends, I’m sure he’ll be shocked, but he’ll get over it.”

She gave him one of her special smiles. “Let’s go then.” Looking down at herself with distaste, she gave a small noise of disgust. “We need a shower, fresh clothes, and food. At least I know I do. We’ll tell Ron after we’ve cleaned up.”

“Ok. Ready when you are.” Holding out his hand to her, Harry waited for her to clasp it with her own before walking the remaining way to the Burrow and his adopted family.

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It didn’t appear that anyone was awake yet when they made it back to the house. They separated at the side door of the living room, Harry moving upstairs quickly and silently while Hermione made her way to the kitchen for a glass of water. She had just turned the tap when the sound of a throat being cleared quietly behind her made her jump.

“Kind of early for a stroll, wouldn’t you say?”

Turning around slowly, Hermione winced when she saw the lanky form of one Fred Weasley idly watching her from the bathroom door. He looked like a cat that had just been given an entire aviary to play with. Trying to remain calm, she gave him her best smile. “What are you talking about Fred?”

“Well, your clothes are wet, torn, and dirty. Your hair is a mess, and then there is the fact that when I went to bed last night and passed Ginny’s room you weren’t there. That seemed rather curious, especially when I found out Harry wasn’t in Ron’s room. I figured you two must have gone for a walk. Oh, he added, almost as an afterthought, I just saw the two of you walk up to the house from the direction of the woods too.” He looked smug, Hermione thought. Panic rose inside her.

“I am not sure what you think you know Fred, but I assure you that --”

“That’s enough Fred.” The voice of Fred’s mother cut through Hermione’s tension like a knife. Letting out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding, the young woman looked over to where Mrs. Weasley was now glowering at her son.

“If you don’t hurry, you’re going to be late opening your own store. George is off meeting with your distributors this morning. I swear, one day you’ll learn responsibility, and I hope to be alive to see it!” Her tone was one of long sufferance. It amazed her that her sons had become so successful so quickly – they were already planning on opening another location of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Soon they would move out and get homes of their own, she thought with a tinge of sadness. None of those thoughts kept the exasperation out of her voice, however.

Hermione stifled a giggle. Fred, properly chastised, scooped the remainder of his slice of toast from the kitchen table, and after a final sly look at Hermione, disapparated without another word. Hermione suddenly became very interested in her shoes as she felt the gaze of the formidable Molly Weasley settle upon her. Expecting a rebuke to be forthcoming at any moment, Hermione opened her mouth to be the first to speak, but the feel of a hand on her face stopped her.

Tilting Hermione’s head up to look in her eyes, Ron’s mother smiled kindly down at her. “It’s ok dear. I’ll make sure Fred doesn’t tell anyone about what he knows.” Molly looked slightly flustered, but quickly calmed again. “I want you to know – I am happy for you and Harry. You have both been too lonely for too long. Be good to each other. And………break it gently to Ron. I think you know my son has had a crush on you for a while now.”

Turning scarlet, Hermione nodded. “I don’t want to hurt him Mrs. Weasley. I love Ron too, just not in the same way that I love Harry.”

Ron’s mother held up a hand. “There is no need to explain my dear. I know how these things work, and I know you and Harry don’t want to cause Ron any pain. You may have to deal with his temper after you tell him, but he will calm quickly. I know my youngest son very well. It will be all right, you’ll see.” Surprising Hermione, Mrs. Weasley bent down and gave her a light kiss on the forehead.

“Ron could not ask for better friends. You will always be welcome in this house. Now, get that glass of water you’re wanting and then go get cleaned up while I make us a spot of breakfast. You look a fright.” Smiling kindly, the matriarch of the Weasley clan watched Hermione climb the stairs. Letting out a sigh, she sat down heavily at the kitchen table. She had seen this coming. Unfortunately, the foreknowledge wouldn’t make what was going to happen any easier for her son.

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Feeling immensely refreshed after his shower, Harry made his way downstairs to discover breakfast waiting at the Weasley table. Ron was sitting alone at the moment, eating a large pile of scrambled eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast with orange juice. Mouth watering, Harry plopped down at the table and helped himself to a plateful of breakfast. He noticed Molly Weasley looking at him, a strange mixture of fondness and sorrow on her face. Uncomfortable meeting her gaze, Harry dropped his eyes and let his mind wander as he ate. After a moment of being lost in his own thoughts, he realized Ron was speaking to him.

“So what do you want to do today Harry? I have some money saved up, and I was thinking we could head to Diagon Alley and see what’s new at Quality Quidditch Supplies. I am sure Hermione will want to visit Flourish and Blotts, and then we can……..”

Realizing Harry wasn’t paying attention, Ron cleared his throat loudly. “You ok mate? You ‘re awfully quiet this morning.”

Harry looked up from his plate with a panicked expression, dreading what was coming. He was about to open his mouth when Hermione walked downstairs, wearing a nightshirt and with her hair still in a towel. Harry thought she looked amazingly attractive. After a half-mumbled ‘good morning,’ she sat down next to him at the table, seeming uneasy.

Ron knew something was up, but he couldn’t figure out what it could be. His two best friends were acting like they had been caught stealing. What the hell was going on?

Inside his head, Harry was trying frantically to think of a good way to tell Ron about himself and Hermione. Ideas were formed, scrutinized, and discarded just as quickly. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with your other best friend; that nothing will ever be the same in your sacred group of three ever again? Would any answer be good enough? Would he gain the love of Hermione at the expense of his friendship with Ron?

The answer came to him then; simple, appropriate, and perfect. Gathering his courage, Harry slid his hand across the table and slowly, calmly, picked up the hand of the woman he loved. Hermione gave a start, looking down with amazement at the hand holding hers. She looked carefully into his eyes, questioning. Harry nodded once, gently. Smiling, she nodded back. Together they both turned their heads to look across the table at Ron, eyes hoping, pleading.

Ron watched the exchange in silence and confusion. Why was Harry holding her hand that way? Why were they looking at him like that? It almost looked like –

“No.” Shaking his head, the youngest Weasley male stood up abruptly, knocking the chair over in his haste. “No. What? How? No!!!!”

Stricken, Hermione reached out to him, eyes watering. “Ron, let us explain. Harry and I are……..”

“No!!!!!!!” Crying out, Ron fled up the stairs, slamming the door to his room. Silently crying, Hermione looked at Harry, her hand still held firmly in his.

“What have we done?” she whispered.

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“I’m coming in.” Harry opened the door slowly, his eyes finding his male best friend as he sat near the window, back turned. He walked slowly over towards the bed, desperately wishing he could think of something to say, something that would bridge the distance now between them. I have to make him understand, he thought. There had to be a way to make him see! He stopped inching forward when he heard Ron speak.

“Get out. I don’t want to talk to you right now Harry. Just go.” The redhead turned to face him, eyes wet and all the hurt in the world in his eyes. “Go.”

Harry hadn’t expected this. Knowing Ron well, he had expected white hot rage, yelling, screaming, even perhaps a punch to the jaw. This was far worse. He wasn’t prepared for this Ron. He didn’t know how to deal with this……….coldness. Turning away, his own eyes watering, the young Gryffindor left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He wished he hadn’t heard the choked sob that left his friend’s throat as the door shut.

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She found him in the back yard, standing near the Weasley’s cherry tree. He wasn’t moving – just staring off into the distance. Coming up behind him, she slipped her arms around him, wondering if he would pull away. Part of her was dying inside, and she knew if he did pull away, she would lose what little hope remained in her heart that this could somehow be made right.

When Harry didn’t pull away, Hermione breathed a smile sigh of relief and dared to rest her head on his shoulder. She felt him relax in her embrace then, and his hands came up to clasp hers warmly.

“He’s so hurt,” Harry said. “I never imagined this would affect him so badly. I guess I suspected he had feelings for you, but not like this. Not like this.”

“His mother is going to talk to him. She thinks he will be ok. Ron just needs time.” A lone tear rolled down her cheek, falling on Harry’s shirt.

“But what about us?” he exclaimed. “Will WE ever be ok again? The three of us? I mean………I knew this would change things, but I never thought he’d react like this.”

“Let’s give him the time he needs,” Hermione told him, wiping her eyes briskly with the back of her hand. She was in her practical mode; Harry had seen it enough times to know. She couldn’t hide the pain lurking just below the surface of the façade though. He knew her too well to not see it. She was looking at him rather intensely now, he noticed.

“Don’t you DARE say we shouldn’t have done what we did Harry. Don’t you dare say you regret what happened last night. I will never regret it.” She leaned in quickly and kissed him gently on the lips. “I love you Harry, and last night you told me you loved me too. We will find a way to make this work. Ron will come around, I know it.”

He smiled then; the genuine smile he showed to very few other people. “Well, I am sure the smartest witch Hogworts has ever seen will find a way, if anyone can,” he said playfully. God, even at a time like this, she could make him smile. Leaning in close to his new girlfriend, Harry tried to push his remorse aside as he gave her a kiss of his own.

They broke apart, still smiling. “Smartest witch, huh? When did Harry Potter the eternally tongue-tied around women learn to flirt like this?”

“You must be a bad influence on me,” he deadpanned, trying to keep a straight face.

That did it. They both burst into laughter, realizing in their present situation, it was either laugh or cry. Hermione recovered first. An idea had come to her, one she was eager to see if Harry would agree with.

“Let’s go for a walk in the woods. I can pack us some food; we can have lunch by the stream. It will give Ron’s Mom time to talk to him, and hopefully he will be willing to at least talk to us by the time we get back.”

Harry seemed to hesitate for a minute, but then he nodded and took her hand timidly in his own. She would never tell him, but she found it totally endearing that he could be so sure with her one moment, and then shy the next. She knew he wasn’t totally sure how he should act around her in their new relationship, and that was ok – she wasn’t sure either. But it would be fun learning.

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The rest of that morning was magical for Hermione. She and Harry walked, hand in hand along the water, talking about their years together at Hogworts; the laughter they had shared and the obstacles they had overcome, together and with Ron. She held his hand tightly as they spoke of Sirius: his gruff nature, his good heart, and ultimately his sacrifice.

As he spoke with Hermione, Harry felt the pain of his past lessen. It felt good to get his feelings out in the open with someone. She listened closely to him as he spoke, never interrupting him. She didn’t try and make light of his grief. Holding his hand, she merely supported him by listening and showing she cared.

Harry knew he would always miss Sirius, always regret Cedric. But he thought he could try and move forward now, in large part thanks to the amazing woman he was now with that dared to love him. The more he thought about it, the more Harry realized what an amazing gift she had given to him. Not just herself, as precious as that gift was. This was more. Hope.

The rest of the morning passed quickly, and as lunch time came they spread a blanket near the water. Harry propped himself up against a tree that had managed to thrive near the water’s edge, and was startled when Hermione sat down in between his legs, her back to him. They leaned against the tree as they ate lunch, not speaking very much at all – just enjoying each other’s company. The water sang merrily over the rocks in the stream bed as it rushed past and quiet contentment settled over the young couple like a warm blanket. Harry found himself just looking at her, noticing small things for the first time: how one strand of hair always hung just ahead of her left ear, and how the freckles on her nose seemed to vanish when her face was screwed up tightly in thought (He found that painfully cute.)

It was sometime during his fascinating examination of Hermione’s face that he realized she was staring back at him and had been staring for some time. How long exactly, he couldn’t be sure. It may have been hours; he knew he could spend at least that long just gazing into those soft brown eyes………..

Harry felt as if he were outside his own body watching as his face came closer and closer to Hermione’s. The kiss started out as most of their previous ones had; soft and sweet. He tasted her lips, reveling in the feelings flowing through him in a flood. Soon though, he slammed back into himself as he found that his body yearned for more. He wanted to devour her; jump into her skin. He breathed in the scent of her – she smelled like cherries, and grass, and the chocolate she had eaten with him moments ago. His need for her was a physical pain, raging through him. Moaning low in his throat, Harry deepened their kiss, daring to brush his tongue against her closed lips and feeling elation when they parted before his insistence. He felt his control spiraling away from him in a tidal wave of desire and desperate longing. The only sound was the rush of the water, the only witnesses the trees; the only people in the entire world him and her.

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Hermione was drowning in a sea of emotion and emerald green eyes. He was holding her so tightly! What had started as a gentle embrace was turning into something much more. Scared and elated, she followed Harry’s lead as the kiss became something more primal. Her body was on fire, her love for him a tangible thing about them. A soft whimper escaped her lips as they tried to compress years of repressed longing into the span of minutes.

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It was going too far, and Harry knew it. He loved Hermione, but this was too fast. Wrenching his head away, he pulled her head to his chest and sat gasping for breath; for sanity. After several deep breaths, he started to recover. It was with some embarrassment that he realized in her position she would definitely be able to tell exactly HOW much he had been enjoying what they had been doing. He tried to move away, but to his surprise he found that Hermione wouldn’t let him. She even settled more firmly on his lap. Looking deep into his eyes, she smiled in satisfaction. There was something more there too, he thought in mild disbelief. She almost looked……….smug!

A soft giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it. “I like knowing I can do that to you,” she said softly, kissing him one more time gently on the lips. “I was always Hermione the bookworm. Never the beautiful Hermione that made men lose control.”

“You were more than just a smart girl to me………..I have always thought you were beautiful.”

“Really?” she asked him, gifting him with an angelic smile.

“Yes. But it isn’t just your body that is beautiful. You’re the most beautiful PERSON I’ve ever known Hermione. I love you.”

She found it hard to see him clearly through the sudden tears. “I love you too Harry.”

They held each other then in silence, two teenagers discovering the sweetness of love. The lone witness to their embrace sighed softly to himself from his vantage point behind a nearby tree. As he turned away to head back home, Ronald Weasley digested his mother’s words and tried to ignore the ache in his heart.

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Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed Chapter 3. They just keep getting longer! A note on OOCness: I have tried to keep everyone as in character as possible. I apologize for any deviation – to get H/Hr together like they deserve to be (yes I said DESERVE!), I of course have had to take some artistic license. This is also my own take on what COULD happen, if things went down a certain path.

Love it! Hated it! Let me know! =)

4. Repercussions and Discovery

Tim Colon Tim Colon 2 649 2003-07-14T04:06:00Z 2003-07-14T04:06:00Z 1 4258 24274 Personal Use 202 56 28476 10.3501 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Disclaimer/Thanks: If I had created Harry Potter and its associated products, *I* would be richer than the Queen of England. Alas, seeing as how I am not, we all know I don’t own them, don’t we? I just do things with them that would probably make Rowling shudder. ;)

Keep those reviews coming! They really motivate me to crank out things faster! Don’t worry, it will keep coming regardless, but as I get more reviews, the motivation just goes through the roof! Hope you enjoy the story!

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The pair walked in silence, taking in the beauty around them. Sun dappled clearings and tall, majestic trees marked their way back to the Burrow. Hand in hand, both Hermione and Harry were deep in thought. Harry was still reeling from the entire day’s events; from Ron’s heartbroken reaction to the incredible time he had just spent with the woman now holding his hand. A tumult of conflicting emotions was crashing through his head: remorse, love, anxiety, wonder, guilt, and even a lingering arousal. All of it was making coherent thought difficult. All he knew for sure was that he still had no idea what to say to Ron when he had to face him again.

Hermione was no less worried. One of the biggest reasons she had never been able to tell Harry about her true feelings for him was fear over exactly what had come to pass earlier in the day. She knew that Ron harbored deeper feelings for her than he admitted; she had started noticing their fourth year. Events after the Yule ball had only confirmed her suspicions.

She wished it didn’t have to be this way. The emotional side she usually kept hidden away wanted to make both Harry and Ron happy. She hadn’t been lying to Mrs. Weasley – she loved Ron. Why did things have to be so complicated?

Lost in their own thoughts, neither Harry nor Hermione noticed they had almost made it back to the house. Emerging from the woods, they looked up in surprise as a familiar voice came to them from not too far away.

“Hello.”

Ron’s face was a study in contrasting emotions. Easiest to spot was the hurt. Almost as easy was embarrassment. There were others there too though, not so easy to read unless you knew him well: regret, longing, and the stubborn courage that both of his friends knew so well. It broke Hermione’s heart to see him standing there before them, most of his dignity stripped away. She wanted to go and throw her arms around him, but she knew he had met them here rather than in the house for a reason. All she could do was wait and see what he had to say.

His voice came to them softly, barely audible. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was hurt. I found out from Mum that this just happened. At least you haven’t been keeping things from me.”

“You know we wouldn’t do that Ron,” Harry said quietly.

“I’m not sure what I know right now. My two best friends are now……….well, I guess a couple, right?” He was looking right at Hermione, and quickly dropped his gaze. “I won’t lie and say this isn’t hard. I wanted to hate you! I did, for a while earlier. It’s going to be awhile before I get used to this. There’s one more thing I need to say, too, before I can try and forget.”

Harry watched as Ron walked up to Hermione and looked right into her eyes. He’d never forget the look on his friend’s face at that moment – he wore a bittersweet smile that made Harry hate himself.

“I think you know how I feel about you,” the redhead said softly. “I never told you, but you’re too smart not to have known. I have to say it once, even though I know you don’t feel the same way.” She was watching him, tears in her large brown eyes.

“I love you Hermione.” She made as if to speak, but he rushed on. “I always will a little. That will never change. I only ask one thing – give me time to get over this. We’ve all changed a lot in the last couple years, and I am not as blind as I was. I can see how you two feel about each other. Part of me always knew.” He smiled then -- that crooked grin she usually loved to see on his face. Seeing it now was tearing her apart.

“You and Harry are the best friends a guy like me could have. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t ready to tell you both to bugger off for a bit. Mum knocked some sense into my head though. I just wanted you to know……….I’ll always be here for you.” His eyes moved to Harry. “For both of you.” Ron’s eyes were damp, and seeing him standing there, a shadow of his former self, Hermione could take no more.

“Oh Ron!” She threw herself at him, a mixture of happiness and sorrow fueling the tears that made their way down her face. He stiffened in her embrace, and Hermione realized sadly that there would always be a distance between them now; something that her love for Harry had put there permanently. She held him close; desperately wishing that things could be as they used to be between them. Nothing is ever easy, she thought to herself with regret.

He pulled away after a moment, discreetly rubbing the moisture from his eyes. Hermione watched as Harry tentatively approached his friend, seeing a shadow of the despair she had hoped to banish flicker across his face. Before he could speak, Ron reached out a hand and grasped his shoulder.

“You’re a lucky man mate. Take care of her.” A playful smile danced across his face. “If you don’t, I think I will have to knock you on your arse.” The two stood there for a moment, silently communicating in some way Hermione couldn’t comprehend.

Without another word, Ron spun on his heel and made for the house. Heart aching, Hermione watched him go. Neither she nor Harry spoke for several long minutes. When the silence was finally broken, the words he spoke were full of a terrible sadness.

“Why must I bring everyone I love pain? Will it always be like this?” He turned to look at her, and she could see the emptiness in his eyes.

“Harry, the people who love you and who follow you support you because of the person you are.” Her voice was passionate. “No one blames you for the people who have died. You are the best person I have ever known. Never blame yourself for all this pain. We both know who hurts us. It’s always been him—Voldemort.” She pulled him into her arms then, and after a while felt him relax and return her embrace. He leaned back, still holding her, and she could see some life had returned to his eyes. Hand in hand, the two of them returned to the Burrow.

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Hermione was waylaid the moment she set foot in the living room. A wide-eyed Ginny Weasley walked up to her and bodily dragged her up the stairs and away from Harry. Letting herself be led away, she gave him an apologetic smile. He thought he faintly heard Ginny’s voice saying “Is it true??!!!” before her door closed. Finding himself alone, Harry made his way upstairs to Ron’s room.

He found his friend sitting on the bed, reading over a recent quidditch catalog. Ron looked up, a neutral expression on his face, before acknowledging Harry’s presence with a nod. Motioning him over, Ron spun the open book around and stabbed a finger down next to an entry.

“Check this out Harry, the new Firebolt. And here………” His finger moved across the page, “……….the book I want, A Keeper’s Guide to the Game, 5th edition. What say we head on over to Diagon before dinner and have a look?” It was a blatant peace offering, and one that Harry was glad to accept.

Smiling warmly, Harry nodded. “That sounds good to me. Let’s stop by Gringott’s too. I never treat myself, and I may just buy that new Firebolt.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and Ginny soon peeked her head in. “Herm and I are going to do some shopping. We’ll be back before dinner.”

“Harry and I are going too,” Ron told her. “Let’s all head over together, and we can split up once we arrive.”

Ron and Harry made their way downstairs with Ginny, and found Hermione waiting. The three friends looked somewhat warily at each other, but once Ron smiled they all did. It wasn’t exactly like old times, but it was a start.

A brief trip by floo powder later the four students found themselves in the always busy Diagon alley market district. Harry gave Hermione a quick kiss as they parted (which fascinated Ginny, who watched intently; and which caused Ron to look away and shuffle his feet.) The boys then headed towards the bank for Harry’s money while the girls moved off towards the book and clothing area.

Gringott’s was always an interesting experience for Harry. This trip proved to be no exception, although not for the usual reasons. As he rode the special roller-coaster like transport through the underground passageways, Ron asked him a question he had not been expecting.

“How did it happen?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the cart. Harry didn’t have to ask what Ron meant. He took a moment to gather his suddenly wildly scattered thoughts. With a deep breath, he tried to answer what he knew was an important question.

“When Sirius died, I went numb Ron. I kept seeing it, over and over. All I could think about was watching him die, knowing I was to blame. As summer went on, all I could think of was all the bad things in my life—the Dursleys, Cedric, Sirius, Voldemort. I wanted to just hide, forget about all of it. I couldn’t take the pain.” A haunted look passed across Harry’s face, and Ron stayed silent, willing him to continue.

“Last night, it finally all became too much. Even with you and Hermione here with me, I felt alone, and I knew that the pain would never go away. I went out to the woods to be alone……..and I won’t deny that part of me thought about just not coming back.” Harry stared blankly ahead, lost in his own memories as the trolley hurtled towards the vault.

“She must have been watching me. She came up behind me in the woods, but all I could see when I looked at her was her dying in place of Sirius. I was convinced if I let her stay near me, she would eventually die. I ran. I’m not sure how long I ran for; it is a blur to me now. But she wouldn’t let me get away from her. She told me………..” He hesitated, not knowing how to say this to Ron. The words Hermione had spoken to him were private, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to share this.

“You don’t have to tell me mate.” Ron looked at him, understanding on his face, and Harry knew that he deserved to hear the truth. Moreover, he realized Ron probably needed to hear this to be able to begin getting over Hermione himself.

“She told me I wasn’t alone. She told me she loved me.” It came out in a rush, half strangled. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget how she looked at me. And suddenly……it was like I was seeing her for the first time. I had always kept my feelings for her hidden—there was always a reason not to tell her how I felt. Part of me wasn’t even sure what the feelings were. But when she told me what she did, the reasons all seemed unimportant. I wasn’t confused about it any more. I love her.” He looked steadily at Ron, watching his reaction. “I don’t deserve her. I know I don’t. But I love her so much it hurts.”

Ron was silent for a moment. Harry was starting to worry that his words had only widened the gap between them when his friend finally spoke.

“I’m glad it was you.” He looked Harry in the eye. “If it can’t be me, I’m glad it was you Harry. And you’re wrong mate. You two deserve each other.” A small smile crossed his lips. The cart slowed suddenly, coming to a complete stop in front of a familiar vault. “It looks like we’re here.”

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As she had expected, the interrogation began shortly after they parted from the boys.

“So, are you going to tell me how it happened?” Ginny was eagerly looking at her, waiting for an answer. “Was it romantic? I bet it was. I want to hear all the details.”

Hermione let out a small sigh of exasperation. Realizing she wasn’t going to get out of this one, she turned to answer. “It happened so suddenly, I barely had time to think about what I was doing or what I was saying. He was………..so sad.” Now that she was talking about it, Hermione let it all come out in a rush, speaking her heart without thinking.

“All I could think about was taking the sadness away. All the reasons I’ve never told him how I felt—they all just melted away. I was still afraid he would reject me, but when it happened all I could think about was him. I NEEDED to tell him how I felt. I’ve loved him for so long. I had kept it inside for so long,” she whispered. A lone tear welled in her eye.

Ginny looked at her friend with a smile. “I am so happy for you I could just burst. Wait until the girls hear about this! They are going to be beside themselves with excitement and envy. We’ve all been hoping the two of you would finally get together. You’re perfect for each other. The only ones who didn’t see it were you and Harry.”

Cheeks flushed, Hermione averted her eyes from Ginny’s amused expression. “Has it been so obvious to everyone then? How I felt?”

A soft snort answered her question. “We all knew. We were ready to try getting you together ourselves pretty soon, seeing how you both were denying everything all the time. I honestly think Lavender was ready to make a play for him herself,” she added slyly. Pulling her friend in for a hug, Ginny whispered in her ear, “Honestly Herms, I couldn’t be happier for you both. You’ll be brilliant together.”

“But what about you and Harry?” Hermione found herself asking, surprising herself.

Soft laughter answered her. “Oh Herms, you know I’ve been over that for AGES. Any fool can see he only has eyes for you, anyway. Of course I’m jealous,” she said with a mock frown, “but I’ll get over it.” The famous Weasley grin appeared on her face.

The two girls shed a few tears then, and laughed as they walked at last into Flourish and Blotts. Hermione was just about to examine a copy of Advanced Arithmancy when a voice she recognized called out from nearby.

“Well, so much for a PLEASANT shopping experience.” Draco Malfoy was standing near a stack of potions books, eyeing Hermione with distaste.

“Honestly, they’ll let ANYONE in here. It’s a shame they don’t have separate stores for the mudbloods. To force TRUE wizards to mix with your lot is a disgrace.”

Before Hermione could open her mouth Ginny was there. “Look Herms, it’s the lower half of the bell curve. Sod off Malfoy if you don’t like our company. God knows you won’t be missed.”

“Almost as bad as a mudblood, a Weasley” Malfoy sneered. “Looking for used books again?”

“At least my father isn’t in Azkaban,” the young redhead said loftily, watching his face purple with rage. “I heard most of the Malfoy assets are frozen while the Ministry investigates your family’s holdings, Draco. Looks like all that money you prize so much won’t be there for you to buy people with for much longer, will it? Think you’ll be able to afford your position on the Slytherin team again this year?” she said mockingly.

“You don’t know anything, you miserable bitch!” Draco made to take out his wand right then and there, but Hermione already had hers out and was pointing it right at him. He grudgingly took his hand out of his robes. Composing himself quickly, he folded his arms in front of him and looked scathingly at Ginny.

“I take it back, you know less than nothing. My father won’t be in Azkaban for much longer, and then………..”

“There you are Draco dear!” Narcissa Malfoy came striding around a corner, false smile splayed across her face. “We MUST be going. So sorry we can’t stay and chat,” she said airily. Both the other girls had to fight hard not to gag at the false sincerity. Mrs. Malfoy grabbed Draco and half-dragged him out of the store. Hermione watched the two moving away, her face troubled.

“He was about to say something he wasn’t supposed to just then,” she said to Ginny. “I wonder what’s going on.”

Ginny laughed. “You think too much Granger. Don’t let that half-wit ruin our good time.” She stared after Malfoy briefly, her face pensive. “It’s a shame such good looks are wasted on that one. Oh well, there are still clothes to shop for and good looking boys to impress!” Dragging Hermione off, Ginny didn’t notice the concerned look still in her friend’s eyes.

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A few hours later, shortly before sunset, the four teenagers met up again for the return trip to the Burrow. Ginny made quite a fuss over Harry’s new Firebolt, which was truly spectacular. Cherry red, the broom was sleek and obviously built for great speed and maneuverability. Even Hermione, hardly the biggest quidditch enthusiast out there, was duly impressed. Ron was carrying a qudditch keeper’s book and some souvenirs from his beloved Chudley Cannons. Ginny had a new outfit (which was slightly too racy for the conservative Hermione’s tastes), and Hermione had a new book of her own and a new summer dress. The quartet made the trip back to the house and quickly stored their purchases in time to head downstairs for dinner.

Harry came down first, and found that Fred and George were already seated at the table. They both got up and patted him on the back. “Smashing, Harry!” George exclaimed. “We’ve just heard the good news. You’ll do well together.”

“Thanks,” he stammered, which caused them both to howl with laughter.

“Here, a little something to celebrate, mate.” Fred handed Harry a stick of chewing gum, and without thinking, Harry popped it in his mouth with a quick thanks.

“I don’t believe you just did that, Harry,” Ron said, having just sat down himself.

Something odd was happening to him. He realized in horror that he had just willingly put a piece of candy given to him by a Weasley twin into his mouth. As the brothers watched in anticipation, Harry’s lips began to swell. Slight at first, soon his lips were almost three times their normal size. Fred and George were laughing so hard tears were coming out of their eyes.

“It’s our latest invention,” George cackled with glee. “Bubble Lips Bubble Gum! Just a special localized engorgement charm. It’ll be hard to kiss Herms with lips that size, eh Harry?” Even Ron, Harry noted with disgust, was laughing hysterically.

“Oh grow UP you two,” Hermione said in exasperation, making her way downstairs. Brandishing her wand, she spoke the charm to return Harry’s lips to their normal size. Her own lips were twitching with suppressed mirth, Harry noticed. He couldn’t help but laugh himself once he was back to normal.

“I’ll take three packs,” he said immediately. “I can’t wait to try these out on Dean.” He grinned, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Boys,” she muttered under her breath.

Dinner passed as it usually did, with the laid back camaraderie that was the hallmark of the Weasley table. Hermione found she couldn’t eat much, however. Draco’s final words were bothering her. How could he know Lucius was going to be released from Azkaban?

When she voiced her concerns aloud though, Arthur Weasley quickly stepped into the conversation.

“Malfoy is finished. He was caught with the other death eaters by Dumbledore himself. He’ll never breathe free air again, and good riddance.”

After the table was cleared, George and Fred left for their rooms, leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny at the table. Talk soon turned to the upcoming year at Hogworts: what they thought classes would be like, who the new defense against the dark arts teacher would be, and what they were all going to focus on over the next two years for their N.E.W.Ts.

Hermione had set a new record, achieving an outstanding score in every O.W.L. she had taken. Harry had done better than he expected with 9, and Ron had scored 7. Harry wasn’t surprised when Hermione started lecturing them. Strangely, he realized he found it cute now. Maybe it was the sound of her voice, or the way she gestured with her hands to emphasize a point. Or maybe I am just a lovesick git, he thought with amusement. Hermione noticed him smiling during her lecture, and scowled at him.

“I am focusing on Arithmancy and Transfiguration,” she said with certainty. “Maybe Charms as well, but the others for sure. You two should really decide what you’re going to do yourselves,” she told Harry and Ron. “It’s never too early to decide, and it’s bad to wait until the last minute.”

“Harry and I are going for Defense against the Dark Arts,” Ron stated.

“I’ll need to get my potions up to snuff first though,” Harry said mournfully. “McGonagall told me I needed that for Auror training. To think, my fate may rest in part with Snape. Life isn’t fair.”

“Enough talk about school,” Ron cut in suddenly. “Let’s set up some lights out back and have a go on your new broom Harry. You promised me I could get the first ride.” He was grinning like an idiot. It was good to see some of his old spirit back, Harry thought. Maybe everything would be alright after all.

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The broom was magnificent. Ron and then Harry streaked across the lawn, one of them on the Firebolt and one on Ron’s Cleansweep, switching periodically. They laughed as they flew; guarding a makeshift goal against the other’s quaffle throws. They had been playing for hours when Harry noticed Hermione watching them from the back yard, a smile on her face.

Ron noticed too, and the two friends touched down cleanly nearby. Proving he was indeed becoming better at picking up on signals, Ron excused himself, giving the other two some privacy.

Smiling at his girlfriend (God I love how that sounds, he thought), Harry took Hermione in his arms and buzzed her lips with his own. She noticed with an inner smile that he still blushed slightly when he did so. “Today turned out to be much better than I thought it would,” he admitted.

“I knew he would recover quickly,” she said. “Ron just had a crush on me – like you did on Cho.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Oh, that was a low blow Granger. You want to talk about crushes, how about……Victor?” He smiled devilishly. She wanted to kiss him in the worst way, and just keep kissing………….

“Touché’,” she said, laughing. “Truce?”

Laughing, he nodded eagerly. “Truce.”

Both of them settled in one of the chairs in the back yard, holding hands and watching the waning moon. The stars were brilliant in the night sky, and Harry couldn’t remember a time when he had been much happier. A thought occurred to him then, and he glanced sideways at Hermione, wondering if she would be amenable.

“Hermione?”

“Yes Harry?”

“Go for a ride with me?” He motioned to his broom, gleaming red in the moonlight.

“Oh I don’t know Harry, you know I am not a good flyer, and heights aren’t really my thing.” She looked nervous.

“Please? I’ll be in control the whole time, and I promise I’ll keep things from getting out of hand. You know I would never hurt you.” He was looking deeply into her eyes as he said this last, and Hermione knew he was talking about more than just the broom ride. He is so beautiful, she thought. He doesn’t even know it, either. Smiling, Hermione stood up.

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me Harry. I trust you.” She could see he understood her answer, too. He returned her smile. “Let’s go.”

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He loved to fly. The wind rushing past, speed almost out of control, the FREEDOM of it. When he was in the air, it was like his spirit was set free. All the cares of his often dark world faded away, and there was just him and the open sky. He thrilled in it. Exhilarated in it.

And now the woman he loved was sharing it with him. She sat tentatively on the broom behind him, holding him tightly around the waist.

“Relax Hermione, you’re going to cut off my air,” he joked. She gave him a playful swat on the back for his trouble. Chuckling, Harry kicked off gently from the ground, and they were off.

He took things slow at first, keeping them close to the ground while she got used to being on the broom behind him. After several minutes of flying lazy circles about the yard, he decided she was ready for more.

Flying higher, Harry took them to just above tree level. He heard her sharp intake of breath, and felt her tense, but he just hovered there while she got used to being so high. After a moment, she relaxed again, and the two of them flew slowly over the trees, taking in the view all around them.

It was beautiful, he thought. Looking behind him, he felt a sharp pain in his heart as he watched Hermione. She was the most beautiful thing of all – a small look of wonder was on her face as they flew above the treetops, the stars bright in her eyes and the wind blowing her hair behind her in a chestnut wave. He knew right then that he would never love another woman the way he loved her. The thought of losing her was a physical pain. He knew he would die before letting her come to harm.

A state of utter happiness washed over Harry Potter. He was flying; his favorite thing in the world, and the most perfect woman imaginable was flying with him. He wanted to shout out his bliss. The broom, responding to his desires, picked up speed. The trees sped by as they flew faster, faster.

Hermione knew she should be afraid, but she wasn’t. Her arms tightened around Harry as they sped across the night sky. A feeling of euphoria was settling over her, and the last of her caution was thrown to the winds as the English countryside raced by. Hermione Granger laughed aloud, reveling in the freedom that the amazing man she loved was sharing with her.

He eventually slowed the Firebolt, and brought them down in a small glade awash in moonlight. They were both breathless, still recovering from their wild flight. Harry’s eyes were practically aglow, and Hermione realized that she had just been shown something that was rare and precious to him.

“Thank you. That was wonderful,” she said sincerely.

“So are you,” he blurted out. Blushing and smiling her special smile, Hermione stepped into his arms. She initiated their kiss, brushing her lips softly against his. His hands tangled in her hair, and she fought back a moan at the way he was kissing her. Her lips parted, and his tongue softly slid into her mouth.

Her scent was all around him—she smelled of flowers, and books, and the subtle smell of the evening breeze. It was intoxicating. SHE was intoxicating. He forced himself to break the kiss, struggling to regain his composure. At least, he noticed with some satisfaction, she was having as much trouble doing that as he was.

“I love you.” It felt natural to say that, he thought. He knew he should have said it a long time ago.

The effect of those words on Hermione was immediate. With a smile that illuminated her entire face, she kissed him again.

“I love you too.”

They stayed that way, together under the stars, for at least an hour. They talked about everything that had happened that day, and what might happen in the remaining time they had for summer vacation.

“Have you really thought about what you want to do after school?” she asked him after awhile.

“A lot depends on what happens in the next two years with………Voldemort.” He felt her cringe, but pressed on. “If he is vanquished, then I really think I want to play Quidditch. But if he is still a threat, then I will try and become an Auror. It needs doing,” he responded to her look of concern. “What about you?” he asked with a smile.

“I am thinking of going on to University and becoming a professor or a researcher,” she told him.

“You’ll be great at either,” he said enthusiastically. “I’ve never met anyone as driven or as smart as you are.” Harry grinned on seeing her blush.

As much as they wanted to stay longer, it was getting late, and they needed to get back and get to sleep. Mounting Harry’s broomstick once more, they made their way slowly back to the Burrow.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry almost didn’t hear Hermione’s sudden sharp intake of breath. “Oh my God!” she cried out.

Harry, following her gaze, stared in shocked disbelief.

The Burrow was burning.

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Author’s Note: I know, I am evil for leaving off like that. =P I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and again a big thanks to all the kind reviewers, especially my fellow H/Hr Shippers. HMS Pumpkin Pie forever! See you next time!

5. Loss and Anger

A thousand thoughts whirled through Harry’s head as he saw the

flames in the distance. They had to be ok. They had to be. Spurring his Firebolt

to great speed, he raced over the trees towards the Burrow. Behind him he could

hear Hermione saying ‘No, please no,’ over and over. The wind battered the

two riders, threatening to knock one or both of them off with its

ferocity. The smell of burning wood filled the air as they got closer to the

edge of the woods. A horrible foreboding was creeping over Harry, making it hard

to think clearly.

They crested the final line of trees, and Harry pulled his broom up

short with a gasp. The burrow was a fiery ruin -- whatever set it ablaze had

consumed it utterly. Choking back bitter tears, Harry quickly touched the

Firebolt down; dragging a near-comatose Hermione off the broom once he was

safely able to do so. Even from across the distance of the yard, he could feel

the terrible heat from the fire, the acrid smell of smoke assailing his

nostrils. Emotions whirled in his head; fear, loss, and somewhere deep within

himself, a horrible anger long kept in check. A distant part of his mind was

terrified of what would happen if he loosed his rein on it and sank into its

welcoming red haze. It would be so easy to just surrender and let raw emotion

take over, and drive away the horrible pain……….

With a jolt, he shook his head violently. Ignoring the voice in his

head warning him it was folly, Harry made his way slowly across the yard, coming

as close as he dared to the inferno that had been the Burrow. He forced himself

to circle the house slowly, looking carefully, hoping and dreading to find

something, find someone alive. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face and neck, the

heat nigh unbearable, the light and smoke causing his eyes to tear and water.

Maybe they weren’t home when this had happened.They may have gotten away. They had

to have gotten away.

The other voice was still raging in his head, making it difficult to

concentrate. It urged him that he must take Hermione and flee; whoever had done

this may still be close by. That the fire was of natural origin never crossed

Harry’s mind. No, this was the work of magic, dark and terrible. He knew it with

certainty. It was madness – not even an hour ago he had held Hermione in his

arms, talking of a future, their future, together. And now……….

After his third time traveling the perimeter of the house, keeping

what he had figured was the minimum safe distance from the flames, Harry

realized that nothing had survived the fire. Whatever had been in there when the

attack came was lost. Questions rose in his mind. Why had no one come to help?

Surely someone had noticed the fire by now! He could only hope that the Weasleys

had been able to flee. On the heels of that came the realization that it was

well past time for he and Hermione to be gone as well. He turned to leave, tears

stinging his eyes and blistering heat at his back, to find a lone figure barring

his way back to the cover of the trees; back to Hermione. Horror washed over

Harry as he realized he knew this figure. A tremor swept through his body at the

sight.

It had been over a year since he had seen this man, in the dusk of a

graveyard -- A stooped figure, the last to be addressed by the newly resurrected

Voldemort. Harry could still hear the awful voice, chastising the man now in

front of him to do better in the future.

“Nott,” Harry whispered.

The stooped figure, face hidden in the hood of his robes, made an

elegant bow. “I am surprised you remember me, Harry Potter. I admit I am very

pleased to see you once again. I was quite upset to discover that you were not

inside when I arrived. I’m afraid my temper got the best of me. It doesn’t

matter though; you’re here now. We knew you’d come back. Now, we must be off –

we have an appointment to keep. I just wanted you to know how grateful I am that

it is I that will be returning you to the Dark Lord.” Nott pulled a wand from

the inside folds of his robe. Hand trembling, Harry made to pull out his own

wand, still recovering from far too many shocks in too short a time.

“I wouldn’t.” Nott’s hand was very steady on his wand, its tip

pointing directly at Harry. “My lord wished you brought to him. He didn’t

specify that you had to be alive. I am sure he would prefer it that way, but if

you continue to reach for your wand, he may have to settle for something less.”

It was unnerving, how his voice never altered in inflection or pitch. He may as

well have been discussing the weather. Harry’s hand froze, despair crashing over

him in a wave. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when he had found a reason

to be happy.

“Good. Now, let’s see to your little friend, and then we can --”

“STUPEFY!” shouted a voice to Harry’s right.

Nott was thrown off his feet as the stunning spell struck him from

the side, carrying him gracelessly to the ground. Remarkably, he didn’t seem

very affected by its power, as he quickly picked himself up from the grass to

face the wizard that had tried to stun him.

Albus Dumbledore stood calmly in the yard of the Burrow, his face

stern. That aura of power that Harry had sensed before seemed to surround him;

the very air crackling with electricity. The flames of the burrow raged behind

him, and with that backdrop and his terrible countenance Hogwart’s headmaster

looked an awesome and terrifying figure indeed.

Nott regained his feet with a chuckle. “Surely the illustrious Albus

Dumbledore can do better than a mere stunning spell?” he sneered. “My master has

protected me from such rudimentary offensive magic. I have come a long way since

my school days, headmaster. I am no longer anyone’s pupil! And you’re too late

to save the boy. I would have just taken him with me………but now, now you’ve

forced my hand.”

Without warning the Death Eater spat out a guttural word, his wand

pointed not at Dumbledore, but Harry. A jagged bolt of dark light streaked

towards the young wizard, making no sound. Harry tried desperately to get the

words of a defensive spell, ANY defensive spell, to pass his lips; but the sight

of the dark magic bearing down on him robbed him of concentration. Closing his

eyes, Harry prepared to die.

Feeling warmth suffuse his body, he waited for the pain to rip

through him, to steal his life. Opening his eyes, he stared in shock as black

lightning played over the surface of a silvery…….something, which seemed to

surround him in a sphere only inches from his body. Eyes darting to met

Dumbledore’s, Harry saw the old wizard give him a brief smile, his face still

very serious. His wand was pointing at Harry, a sliver light slowly fading from

its tip.

“Must it end badly, Jacob?” The headmaster’s face was a study in

sadness, anger, and regret. Wand lowering, Dumbledore held out a hand, eyes

beseeching. “You must pay for your crimes, but it needn’t be with your life.

Come in with me, and I will do what I can for you.”

Voldemort’s follower laughed; a high, cruel sound carrying over the

crackling flames. “You always were a soft hearted fool! There would have been

acclaim enough, bringing in the Potter boy. To bear word of your death by my

hand as well will raise me to my rightful place at the Dark Lord’s right hand!”

Wand thrust triumphantly, he shouted “Caedesis Cremoare!!!” A giant ball of

flame rolled forth, hurtling at the old man standing directly in its path.

Later, Harry wouldn’t be sure if Dumbledore had raised his wand or

not. His lips moved, mouthing something too low for Harry to hear. Then the

flames engulfed him, and Harry screamed.

Nott shouted in triumph as he watched the fireball wash over his

enemy. He was about to turn back to Harry when the voice of the old man spoke

clearly from within the ball of fire that enveloped his body.

“So be it. I am sorry, Jacob.”

Jacob Nott could only stare, stunned, as the ball of flame hurtled

back at him, having lost none of its potency. His last sight was of the man he

thought he had destroyed standing unharmed, steaming robes the only sign the

flames had touched him at all. Then the fire washed over him, and he knew no

more.

Harry turned away and retched as Nott’s body burned, his screams of

agony abruptly cut off. He looked up as a shadow fell upon him. Dumbledore

looked more serious than Harry had ever seen him, but there was still a kindness

in his eyes. He spoke only a few words, but they made Harry bolt upright,

revitalized.

“It’s all right Harry. They’re alive.”

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The headmaster quickly led Harry to the tree line, where Hermione

was still recovering from their mad flight back to the burrow. It had been hard

enough on Harry, who was used to flying at extreme speeds. It had taken all her

energy to cling wildly to the broom and not fall.

Dumbledore pulled a ring off his finger, a plain silver band,

handing it to Harry. “Put that on, quickly. Hold on to Miss Granger and speak

the words ‘Phoenix sanctuary.’ It will take you to the order’s headquarters.

I’ve had it tuned to act as a portkey there, circumventing the usual security.

Hurry now, I’ll be along shortly with others.”

Harry put the ring on and wrapped his arms around a shivering

Hermione. She seemed coherent at last, her eyes focused and steady. He spoke the

words to activate the key, and felt the familiar jerking sensation behind his

navel. Sure enough, they found themselves in the familiar kitchen of Sirius

Black’s house, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Although he felt bone-weary after the ordeal he’d just gone through,

Harry couldn’t suppress a shout of joy upon seeing the Weasleys safe and sound,

present in the room with them. Astonishingly, Snape was also there, conversing

in low tones with Arthur. He looked tired and disheveled. There was a sheer,

oddly patterned cloak fastened about his neck, and Harry recognized its design

as very similar to the one on his cloak of invisibility.

Ignoring the astonished faces all around them, Harry and Hermione

rushed to embrace Ron, tears streaming down their cheeks. For a moment, a

blessed moment, there were no problems between them, no love’s ache to keep them

estranged. The three friends held each other, crying and smiling and reveling in

being alive. A faint ache filled Harry's heart at the thought that Sirius should

be here with them, but it was a distant pain -- Hermione had helped him realize that

he must go on for the living, and let go of the dead.

They finally let go, feeling the stares of the other Weasleys and

Snape upon them. “I am so glad everyone is ok,” Harry half-stammered. “I was so

afraid, when I saw the fire, that you………that all of you……..” Realization sunk in

then and he looked at Mr. Weasley, stricken. “But your house, its --”

“Never mind that now Harry dear,” Molly said with a smile. “We are

all safe, and that is what matters.” She swept him up in an affectionate hug.

Soon the entire red-headed clan was patting them on the back and shaking their

hands, all of them glad that Harry and Hermione had made it back safe.

Harry had a thousand questions, and turned to Arthur for answers.

“How did you get out in time? That fire looked like it burned everything so

fast.”

“We were warned.” Mr. Weasley glanced at Snape, who was making his

way to the other side of the room to meet Dumbledore. The headmaster had just

entered with six other wizards all wearing the robes of Aurors, and they

instantly fell into whispered discussion, Snape gesturing forcefully to make

some point.

“Severus arrived with four other members of the order, telling us we

had to get out of the house immediately, that we were going to be attacked any

moment. We were barely out the back door with the first fireball hit.” Ron’s

father looked slightly tortured at the mention of his home. Composing himself,

he continued. “There was fighting, but we didn’t see much of it – we had to make

sure Ron and Ginny got to safety. I hope all our people made it out alive.”

“They did,” Dumbledore said from behind Harry. “Some are injured,

but we had no losses tonight, thanks in large part to Severus.” Harry looked at

Snape, who acknowledged the words with a curt nod.

“There is more,” Dumbledore continued. “This was, as we feared, not

some random attack on order members. Jacob Nott himself led tonight’s assault.

He waited until the others had led our people away before appearing himself, and

then he watched for Harry and Hermione to return. I was fortunate enough to be

there, looking for them myself, when Nott was about to take them.” A bitter

grimace crossed his face. “He is dead.” The words were met with silence.

Harry, who was looking closely at the Professor’s face as he spoke,

drew in a small gasp. There were blisters on his skin, and now that he was

actively looking, Harry could see that the headmaster’s hands were also red and

blistered. It seemed the fireball had hurt him after all. What kind of power,

Harry thought with awe, must he have to take that kind of attack and be barely

hurt by it? Not only that, he had turned it back upon its creator! The more

Harry discovered about his mentor, the more he admired him, and the more he

frightened him.

Molly rose from sitting at the table, a disapproving frown on her

face. “This talk can wait. The children have had a very difficult evening, and

they need rest. We could all use some rest.” Her tone brooked no argument, and

while there were feeble protests from Harry, Hermione, and Ron that they were

fine, no one argued overmuch.

As Hermione and Ron were heading for rooms upstairs, Harry crossed

the kitchen in a rush to catch Snape before he could take his leave.

“Professor?” he said.

“What is it?” the potions master asked irritably.

“I wanted to say…….thanks. Thanks for warning them of the attack.”

Harry looked down at his feet. He had never thought this would be so hard. “We

probably owe you our lives.”

The head of Slytherin House stared down at him, expressionless. He

raised his arm absently, scratching at the black lines of the Dark Mark that

were magically inscribed into his skin. Then, eyes glittering, he turned away,

pulling the hood of his cloak over his head. With a shimmer, he vanished. His

work that night must not be done, Harry thought. Snape’s retreating voice echoed

softly back to him from down the hall: “Just doing my job, Potter.”

Harry made his way upstairs quietly, and he reached the top to find

a somber-looking Hermione waiting for him. Without a word, she stepped up and

pulled him into a tight embrace. The two stood there in the hall, not speaking,

for some time.

She pulled away from him at last to stare at his face, hand gently

caressing his cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said softly. Her door

closed quietly behind her. Harry made it to his bed in the room he and Ron had

shared the previous summer and fell into it. As exhausted as he was, sleep was a

while in coming. The past two days had seen amazing things happen in his life;

amazing and terrible. Was it only 48 hours ago that he had been in the deepest

depression of his life? How quickly things can change, he thought. Still

thinking about the change in course his life had taken, Harry fell into a deep

sleep.

He awoke to a gentle shaking. Faint light was creeping through the

window to his room; it must have been only slightly past dawn. Rubbing the sleep

from his eyes, Harry was surprised to see the face of Professor Dumbledore

looking down on him.

“Come downstairs with me, Harry. There are things you need to know.”

Quickly putting on his robe and slippers, Harry followed.

Molly and Arthur were already there in the kitchen, the former

briskly going about making breakfast, and the latter sitting at the table

waiting. Molly looked upset when she saw Harry, a frown on her face. Arthur

simply nodded. Harry sat down next to the headmaster, who turned to address him.

“In the past Harry, I have kept things from you in an attempt to

keep you safe, much to our mutual regret. I will not do that any longer. You are

as much a part of this fight as any of us; in some ways more so. Some of us may

not like that fact --” His eyes darted to take in a scowling Mrs. Weasley. “—but

that does not make it any less true.” The old professor’s piercing eyes returned

to looking directly at him, demanding his attention.

“You need all the facts that we can give you going forward Harry, if

we are to arm you against the coming darkness. The truth can be hard to bear,

but bear it you must.” The old professor regarded Harry shrewdly. “Last night’s

attack had only one objective, Harry: To capture you.” When Harry didn’t react,

Dumbledore nodded. “Failing that, the attackers were to kill you. Voldemort

fears you Harry. You represent an embarrasing failure to him, one that he dares

not let live." A knowing look from the Professor reminded Harry there were other

reasons, best left between them, for Voldemort to want him dead.

"You must be careful, Harry. We have members of the order watching you as

often as possible, but we cannot always be there. What’s more, we are only human. We

were misled last night. We learned of the attack in advance, it is true; but we

let ourselves be drawn off from the Burrow, and Nott almost had you. I am sorry

for that, Harry.” He took a long drink from a glass of water and continued.

“Because we can’t always be there, and because you are a target now

more than ever, I have decided to arrange for some additional Defense against

the Dark Arts training for you. Beginning later today and continuing every day

once classes start, you will receive extra lessons from trained Aurors and

experienced teachers. You need to be better prepared if you are caught by the

Dark One’s servants again. Much of this training is not learned until college

years or beyond, so make no mistake – it will be difficult. But we have no

choice. Do you understand, Harry?”

Harry drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. “Yes Sir. Sir……..how

did Professor Snape know the attack was coming?” Silence fell over the kitchen

at his words, and Dumbledore regarded Harry seriously.

“Severus told me that you already know what his role is within our

organization, Harry. I believe you and he discussed it briefly during your

private lessons. I will tell you this much, for it is all you need know –

Professor Snape, having once been a member of Voldemort’s inner circle, is in a

unique position to uncover information passed between other members of the Death

Eaters. It is those ties that allowed him to learn of the planned attack last

night.”

Footsteps interrupted their discussion as a sleepy Hermione made her

way into the kitchen. By now the delightful smells of Molly’s cooking had

Harry’s mouth watering. Dumbledore, seeing Harry’s gaze stray to the stove,

chuckled.

“Get something to eat. I believe we are done here for now. I must

head to the ministry this morning to make a full report. Keep safe, all of you.”

With that, he rose from the table and made his way out of the house.

Ron joined Harry and Hermione in the kitchen, and the three

teenagers ate breakfast with an appetite. There was no talk

during the meal -- an unspoken agreement. Everyone feared that to talk about

what had happened would make it real, render what had seemed a vivid nightmare

into an all too terrible reality. At length however, Arthur stood and addressed

the three friends.

“We’re going back to the house this morning to see what will need to

be done to rebuild. There have been generous offers of help from the ministry

and our friends, and there will be some wizards there to assist us. We’ll all be

leaving shortly.”

Harry, absently picking at the rest of his breakfast, wondered just

how bad things would look now that it wasn’t evening……and now that the fire

would have consumed all it could.

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Although he had expected it, Harry was still dumbstruck when they

arrived at the burrow later that morning. There was only one word that came to

mind to describe what was left -- ‘gutted.’ Parts of the framework were still

clinging to life, but most of the house was simply…….gone. Ash and debris in a

large mound marked where Ron’s family had once lived. The stark reality of it

came crashing down on Harry in a rush. Ron and his family no longer had a place

to live…..and they had lost it because of HIS being there. Watching Arthur,

Molly, Ginny and Ron stare in varying degrees of disbelief at the ruin that was

the Burrow, Harry could take no more. Spinning on his heel, he walked swiftly to

the edge of the back yard where it met the beginning of the wood.

Along with the feeling of reality came the anger. He had repressed it yesterday,

too concerned with finding survivors, and then with simply staying alive. Now it

began to rage in him unchecked, a fury that surprised and scared him. He had

known anger before, usually directed at Dudley, or his Uncle, or even Snape when

he was being particularly unreasonable in potions. This was different. Always

before, something had pulled him up short before the anger could take control.

For the first time in his life, Harry gave in totally to his anger. Fear had

always been the emotion he associated with thoughts of Voldemort and his Death

Eaters – now, it was rage, pure and white-hot and threatening to consume him

utterly.

From deep within him, a horrible calm within the pure fury, Harry felt something

twist.

Those overseeing the damage at the Burrow stopped their work abruptly. There was

a feeling in the air, a stillness that wasn’t natural. All eyes turned

unconsciously to the edge of the woods, and gasps of fright and awe arose from

the wizards and witches at the sight that met them.

Harry Potter stood facing the nearest trees, surrounded in a dazzling aura of

color. Blood-red in hue, it throbbed, verifying in intensity like a horrible

heartbeat. All around him, the sounds of life ceased. No birds were heard

calling to each other. No small animals scurried about the undergrowth. Even the

trees were still in the breeze, branches hanging lifeless. The people standing

dozens of yards away could feel a pull, and almost see the invisible lines of

power being drawn into the young wizard from the surroundings.

One Auror, a veteran of more than twenty years, looked at the spectacle with

naked terror in his eyes. “Sweet Merlin,” he whispered.

Harry was lost in an ocean of rage and power. Voldemort and his followers had

destroyed his friend’s home. Because of the Dark Lord, Harry’s life had been

nothing but one long string of misery. It had to stop. He had to stop it.

An unearthly scream poured forth from Harry’s mouth. Wand raised high, he

shouted out the words he had heard Jacob Nott speak the night before. Black

lightning spat from his wand, shearing trees off at the base. More words he

spoke from memory, and the trees burned, ball after ball of fire consuming them

totally, just as the wood of the Burrow had been consumed. The sound of trees

crashing to the ground was deafening, drowning out the horrified cries of the

watching wizards as they closed in on Harry, frantic to stop the awful display.

Yes. Burn, Harry thought. It was so easy. The power was there, all around him,

only waiting to be used for his vengeance. He would find the Dark Lord, and

watch him burn, watch him die. From the dark recesses of his soul, Harry

exulted. A rasping voice, reptilian, shouted its approval at the thoughts of

vengeance and death. This is how it should be, the voice told him. No more

cowering, waiting for death to come to him. HE would become death; take the war

to Voledmort and his followers. He would teach them what sorrow was! Bubbling

laughter rose, and Harry realized it came from his own lips as his wand rained

destruction down on the woods in his path. And in his head, that snake-like

voice, laughing in triumph……..

A flicker, at the edge of memory. Two figures, staring at him lovingly from a

picture. There was understanding in their eyes. Compassion. Harry saw his

father’s face before him, super-imposed over the burning trees. He

looked…….almost sad.

He jerked spasmodically with a shuddering gasp. Someone was holding him tightly,

pleading desperately to him. He realized with a start it was Hermione, her

pretty brown eyes filled with tears.

“Come back,” she was saying softly, over and over. “Come back to me.” He looked

at her then, emerald eyes blazing with fire, and felt her shiver in terror.

Behind her the other wizards stood warily. Some of them were obviously trying to

pull Hermione away from him, fearing for her safety. Others waited with ready

wands to see if Harry would strike out again, or if……whatever had just

happened…….was past.

Harry drew in great gasps of air as the power faded. The blood-red light that

had limned his body faded. As his eyes focused, Harry took in the faces around

him. It was easy to see what was written on them: fear. They all were afraid of

him, even Hermione. His gaze came to rest at last on Molly Weasley, and Harry

disengaged himself gently from Hermione’s arms to stand before Ron’s mother.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked. “I know it isn’t my fault, but it is because you were

kind to me that you lost your home. I am so tired of all the people I love being

hurt because of me. I’m sorry.” She pulled him into her arms, and Harry clung to

her tightly. He did not cry. He wasn’t sure, for the moment, if there were any

tears left.

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Lunch that day passed quickly. Harry occasionally caught other

members of the outing looking his way, fear or worry or even lingering awe in

their eyes. He avoided their stares as best he could, talking quietly with

Hermione and Ron. Mr. Weasley had been right; with all the help from the

ministry volunteers and friends of the family, the Burrow would be rebuilt

swiftly. For the next few days the family would live at headquarters, and then

they would move into their new home. Although Harry was glad to hear it, he knew

that nothing could restore the things in the house that had burned. It was a

sharp reminder of how fleeting life and material possessions could be.

Once they were done eating, Ron went to see how his parents and

Ginny were doing. Left alone with Hermione, Harry found himself at a loss for

words. He looked at her helplessly, and she silently slipped her hand into his.

When he spoke at last, his voice echoed both their sentiments at that moment.

“What is happening to me?”

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Author’s Notes:

First, an apology to the readers: it has been well over two months since an

update, and this chapter is not terribly long. There are two reasons. One, I

wrote two other pieces in that time. I then took 5 weeks off from writing

anything. I did a lot of reading in that time, including going over the HP

series in its entirety again. They aren’t good excuses for making people wait so

long, particularly with that evil cliffhanger, but there you are. The usual

thanks go to my beta Sarahkitty. A hearty thanks also to those of you that have

reviewed my work.

I hope things are still interesting. Several people gently chided me that this

piece was swiftly becoming mindless fluff. While Romance is the main theme of

the story, I hope other elements find their way in as well. I DO have a plan for

where things are going, I promise!

One final note, more of a promise: the following chapters will NOT take 10 weeks

to be posted. If you’re still with me after all this time, thank you. Hope you

enjoyed the chapter.

-Tim

6. Important Lessons

The usual disclaimers apply: I don’t own it; I just shamelessly use it for my own twisted little ends. Enjoy!

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Albus Dumbledore stood quietly, watching the reconstruction of the Burrow proceed. He had performed several powerful enchantments on the base structure of the new dwelling himself, making it proof against magical fire and lightning among other things. There were even a few nasty surprises awaiting intruders thinking to catch the occupants unaware. The headmaster almost hoped that Voldemort’s forces would try again.

His gaze wandered across the surroundings, taking in the wizards and witches who were busily working on the new home, and came to rest at last on a pair of teenagers eating their lunch. Dumbledore sighed as he watched Harry Potter and Hermione Granger talk quietly over their food. He had not been there earlier in the morning during what everyone was now calling ‘Harry’s display,’ but he had gotten a full accounting of what had happened. He turned to look at the patch of forest that was all but annihilated by the young wizard’s rage, and a small frown made its way to his lips.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” came a low voice from behind him. He had almost not noticed the tall form that had apparated behind him; testimony to the man’s skill. “So much power in one so young. It would seem,” the voice drawled, “that Mr. Riddle and his friends have finally managed to make our Mr. Potter angry.”

“Yes,” agreed the old Professor. He stood in silence, taking in the blasted tree stumps and blackened ash from the fires. There was silence, and then he added, “That is what I am afraid of.”

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In a dank, far from sweet-smelling chamber in the depths of Hogwarts, a hooded and cloaked figure stared silently into a softly bubbling cauldron. The room the figure was in looked a cross between a mad alchemist’s laboratory and a ransacked library – vials of liquid were strewn about haphazardly, various potion-making instruments lay here and there, and dozens of obviously old and well-used books were open, their surfaces covering the small area of the floor and tables that were not occupied by chemical reagents.

The figure silently contemplating the cauldron in front of him would at a mere glance seem to belong in those surroundings. Severus Snape had always dreamed of a career in the dark arts; he had actively pursued such work since his own days as a student at Hogwarts. Things had turned out quite differently than he had imagined they would, all those years ago. Enticed by the promise of power, he had willingly handed himself over to the devil himself, and but for Albus Dumbledore’s efforts and belief in him, he would have been well and truly damned. Through his new mentor’s kindness, Snape had been able to flourish as a potion-maker, an art he had always enjoyed but never before realized his own aptitude for. He had almost lost everything to his own dark ambitions – he had been a step from casting himself into the abyss irrevocably. A shiver passed through his slight frame at such thoughts, and he returned his full attention to the steaming mixture before him.

He was not in his own chambers, although they looked similar, if a bit less dirty. No, the room he was currently in was a secret, known only to the headmaster and himself. It had been magically protected against eavesdropping and discovery, and so was perfect for the use he now put it to. The head of Slytherin house made a stirring motion with his wand in the air over the cauldron, and the pearl-colored liquid spun madly before turning glassy. Snape focused his will on the liquid medium in front of him, pointing his wand and whispering. His left hand grasped the wrist of his right, holding the slender object steady, and an observer at that moment would have noticed the dark etchings on his arm, symbol of his previous master’s dominance, fade in more prominently.

Snape was a skilled potion crafter – a fact known by all that worked with him. Even those who despised him, which included most of the students he taught, readily acknowledged his ability. However, the sallow-skinned professor also had a great gift for occlumency and leglimancy. It was those gifts that, during the war between Voledmort and the forces of the Order and the Ministry, had made him a masterful spy.

Now those same talents were what made Severus useful to the Order. The weak connection still present via the Dark Mark heightened his ability, allowing him to gather the information on Voldemort’s followers that the Order so desperately needed if it was going to stand a chance of succeeding. He had already foiled several attacks that would have taken the Phoenix Order members unaware, including the assault launched on the Burrow.

With the enchantments in place in the scrying chamber, he had no fear of his targets realizing they were being listened to. The focusing mixture in the cauldron extended the range of his power, allowing him to sweep wide areas in the search for information on the movements of the enemy. An hour passed with nothing changing; the only sound his quiet breathing. He was used to these periods of silence as he sought out his former allies. It could take several hours to locate what he searched for, but Professor Snape was a patient man. His diligence was usually rewarded. A sudden image appearing on the surface of the liquid brought a slight smile to his lips. The image was fuzzy as always, the shapes within it distorted. It didn’t matter. The words they would speak and the thoughts behind them were what Snape wanted to hear. In his hidden sanctuary, the former Death Eater waited…..and listened.

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Two figures sat at a small wooden table. The room they were in was cramped; there was barely enough room for the table and four chairs. A single candle in the middle of the table provided the only light, and the shadows its flickering flame cast seemed to gather thickly about the robed figures sitting across from each other. One had its hood up, and the faint light did not reach its face. The other had its hood down, and a long length of hair spilled down its back. Bellatrix Lestrange could be accounted beautiful, and indeed there were those that had thought her so. However, she was also very much insane, and the figure sitting across from her knew it and so considered its words carefully before speaking. You never knew what would set her off.

“Nott failed. The boy was not taken. The home was destroyed, but none of the family members were inside when it burned. Nott is dead.”

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Bellatrix snapped. “Did you think I wouldn’t have noticed?” She rolled back the sleeve of an arm to reveal her Dark Mark. “Jacob Nott was a fool with an over-inflated opinion of his own abilities. I am sure he toyed with Potter, giving one of his typical high-brow speeches, rather than capturing or killing him immediately like he was ordered to do.”

“That is not what concerns our Lord however. The Weasleys knew about the attack. They were tipped off by someone. Our master is of course very upset by this. A string of our plans have been ruined by whoever is leaking information to Dumbledore and his lackeys. There will be a thorough investigation of this treachery, led by me. And when we find the one responsible……” The witch slowly closed her fingers into a fist. “They will wish for the sweet mercy of death.” Bellatrix regarded her companion in silence for a moment before continuing.

“This failure is of no moment however. We still have an in to Potter at his beloved school, and the appropriate people have been notified on how to proceed. The whelp was at the mercy of our Dread Lord once before; he will be again. In less than two weeks time he will be back where we can eventually get to him once more. All the watchful eyes in the world won’t save Harry Potter from meeting his fate. Their mysterious informant has done nothing but delay the inevitable.” Rising from her chair, Lestrange beckoned to her companion.

“Now come – we have much to discuss. I have a task for you. You are going to be a good little blood-hound and help me sniff out our elusive mole. Our Lord very much wants to meet this proverbial invisible man. He has much to discuss with them on the matter of loyalty……and pain.”

The door closed behind the exiting figures, the candle on the small table almost burned down to the base.

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The liquid resumed its glassy opacity as Snape leaned back, his breath coming out slow and heavy. Beads of sweat stood out on his brow, and his grip finally relaxed on the wand in his hand. They hadn’t figured it out yet. That was something, anyway. He knew it couldn’t last, but for now his identity was still safe from his former companions.

So, that raving lunatic Bellatrix was leading the investigation into their leak. That seemed to be a stupid move by his former master. There was only one use for that woman – as a weapon. Putting her in a position where she had to think seemed like sheer folly. The matter would require some thought.

In the meantime, he had to report all that he had heard to the key members of the Order. They needed to know as soon as possible that Voldemort had at least one more insider at the school that could allow him to get to Potter. As much as it turned his stomach to be protecting the whelp of a wizard he had loathed with all of his being, duty was almost all he had left. Duty, and the all-consuming desire for revenge on the man that had tried to make a slave of him. He had promised to himself, in another lifetime it seemed now, to play a large part in the downfall of the man he had once called Lord -- and Severus Snape always kept his promises.

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Harry paced nervously in the open field, slowly wearing a path in the high grass. Shortly after a tension filled lunch, Professor Dumbledore had approached Harry as he and Hermione sat near the shell of the Burrow. The headmaster had let him know his first informal lesson in advanced magical defense would begin shortly and had pointed to a field well clear of the Burrow’s yard. Harry was glad for the excuse to get away from everyone for awhile – the stares he had been receiving all morning were getting on his nerves. Even worse was the tension between him and Hermione. He kept seeing the look of fear in her eyes; fear of him. They had not spoken much since he had regained his senses to find himself in her arms. Frankly, he needed to focus on something else, and the upcoming lesson would suit his purpose just fine.

There was no stopping a small amount of trepidation from making itself known to him however. What would the lessons entail? Would he like the instructors doing the teaching? What kinds of magic would they be showing him, that many wizards never learned? All those thoughts and more swept through his mind as he waited for his teacher to show up and provide some answers. So engrossed in his thoughts was he that Harry didn’t notice he was no longer alone in the field. Just as he realized this fact, a voice called out calmly from behind him.

“Detrudo.” It felt like an invisible hand had pressed down on him with the strength of a troll, knocking him flat on his back. Harry lay in the grass, momentarily stunned, as the same voice came to him from nearby.

“Rule number one Mr. Potter – in the real world, your enemies won’t wait until you are paying attention to attack. There are no dueling niceties observed by the Death Eaters and their lesser followers. They will stab you in the back; kill you in your sleep. In real life-or-death combat, there is no bowing. No rules at all. So rule number one, the most important thing I can teach you, is to never let them catch you unaware. A small amount of paranoia is the price you pay for staying alive.” A hand was offered to him, and Harry allowed himself to be helped to his feet.

As the lingering effects of the spell wore off, Harry took in the man standing before him. He was exceedingly tall, approaching six and a half feet; and none of that appeared to be bulk. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, and his hands and fingers seemed to belong to an artist, delicate and slender. He was dressed in an unremarkable gray cloak fastened with a brooch shaped like a phoenix with wings stretched in flight. What struck Harry most, however, was the aura surrounding the man – tension. This man seemed to be unused to stillness; he was like a coiled spring temporarily motionless, but with capacity for swift and decisive movement. Harry found himself immediately intimidated.

Not offering any apology for his sneak attack, the man extended his hand towards Harry, which he hesitatingly shook with his own. The tall man smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I am Verus Magister. Dumbledore has charged me with teaching you how to keep yourself alive, and that is what I plan to do. Before we are done you may very well hate me, and that is fine. I am not here to be your friend, I am here to show you how to battle the Dark Arts in ways no school education ever could. What I will be teaching you is known only by Aurors and others who fight dark witches and wizards for a living. It will be difficult, and it will push you to the limits of your mental and physical endurance. My old mentor assures me you are up to the task. As he is the best of judge of character I have ever met, I will believe him and assume you won’t disappoint me.”

“Your old mentor?” Harry asked, wondering if Verus was talking about who he thought he was.

“Yes, Albus Dumbledore. You’re surprised? I am sure you have heard of the Professor’s battles against the dark forces. He has defeated some of the most powerful dark wizards of the age. Before he was a professor, the headmaster was an instructor for the Auror core. Even after he left to pursue a career at Hogwarts, he still kept his hand in things with our group. Dumbledore is one of the few wizards living who I would be afraid to battle against. There is a reason that Tom Riddle fears him.” Harry looked on in surprise at the mention of that last name, and Verus gave a short bark of laughter.

“Do you think I will refer to him by the title he gave himself? Lord Voledmort,” he sneered. “The man’s name is Tom Riddle, and Tom Riddle is what I’ll call him. I advise you to do the same. He may be incredibly powerful and damn near indestructible, but he is still only a man. Rule number two, Mr. Potter – understand the nature of your enemy. He may cloak himself in fear and mystery, but Tom is just another Dark Wizard that bleeds the same color as you or I.”

“Now,” he continued, “Let’s get to work.” Reaching into the pocket of his robes, Magister removed a small box-shaped object. It appeared to be made out of some exotic metal, and was carved with strange symbols that Harry couldn’t decipher but which made his head swim when he focused on them for too long.

“This is a texi magicus, a spell shield. There are very few in the world. We use them in the Auror core for magical training. When opened by two or more consenting wizards, it projects a protective barrier in a thirty yard circle. While operational, this barrier prevents any permanent magical harm from coming to all in its area, and prevents all participating wizards from leaving the area by any means. The spells cast will still manifest and even touch their targets, but nothing more. In other words, Mr. Potter, we can blast each other all afternoon and not be hurt.”

Harry digested the information, feeling a lump settle heavily in his throat. If Verus noticed Harry’s nervousness, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“One final point I should mention. Temporary debilitating effects will still work, as will all non-physical attacks. I could still disarm you, and you could still paralyze me. Remember that.” Magister set the box on the ground and touched the lid with the tip of his wand. He motioned for Harry to do the same, and soon both wands were touching the top of the box as their owners knelt across from each other.

“Now repeat this phrase after I speak it, and we will begin. Expungo Veneficium!”

Harry repeated the phrase, and the lid of the box sprang open. All around them Harry could see a wall of light taking shape, its surface covered with crackling lightning in the shapes of those strange symbols on the sides of the spell shield. The barrier of light pulsed for several seconds and then vanished. Verus rose to his feet.

“Test the barrier if you like. You’ll find you can’t get further than thirty yards from the shield.”

Walking slowly away from the box, Harry held a hand out in front of him. After less than a hundred paces his hand came up against a solid barrier. He pressed against it, and it did not give. There was no visual sign the wall was there – it was as if the very air had hardened, preventing anything from entering or leaving. Harry walked back towards the shield, drawing his wand. The two wizards squared off from about ten yards apart.

“Let’s begin with a recap of sorts,” Verus said. “Show me what charms, hexes, and curses you know that will incapacitate a foe.” The tall Auror assumed a combat pose that looked similar to one Harry had once seen muggle fencers use; right foot forward and the majority of his body weight balanced on the back foot, wand held in his right hand, and arm bent at the elbow.

Verus gave a small grin, revealing very straight, white teeth. “Ready? Begin.”

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The next couple of hours passed quickly. Harry soon learned that what he knew about offensive magic didn’t amount to much at all. For every curse he threw at Verus, every hex, the agile Auror had a counter-curse or defense that nullified it before it could strike him. He also had an annoying habit of verbally insulting Harry whenever a particularly clever attack on his part was foiled by a counter-spell. Cries of ‘you’ll have to do better than that boy’ and ‘I thought Dumbledore said you were GOOD!’ had Harry eager to hit his teacher with anything, just to shut the smug man up. As the afternoon wore on, mental fatigue set in just as he was warned it would, the energy required to launch spell after spell taking its toll. The sound of Verus’s voice hurling insults became a grating scratch, a clawing at his mind that was threatening to rob him of the concentration that was already becoming increasingly hard to maintain. Somewhere deep inside himself, Harry felt the same presence from that morning shifting, begging to be set free. A faint voice, the sound of snakeskin sliding over stone, begged for surrender, begged for Harry to embrace it and know true power.

In desperation Harry tried the disarming charm again, even though it had already failed twice earlier in the day to part Verus from his wand. The older man dismissively deflected the spell with a softly spoken word, the sneer Harry had seen earlier back on his face.

“I am starting to think Albus was wrong about you, boy. You aren’t ready.”

Twist.

It was like being immersed in hot water. Power, rich and heady, filled him, lending strength to his limbs, re-vitalizing his mind. The reptilian voice sang in his head, raised in dark jubilation. The protective wall of the spell shield flickered in and out as waves of invisible power rushed into the body of the young wizard from the very air around him. Harry stabbed his wand at Magister. He was through with spells designed to incapacitate.

“Atono Fulgor!!” Familiar black lightning streaked toward the unmoving Auror, who dipped his wand and muttered under his breath. The lightning struck home with a loud clap of thunder, and Verus was outlined in a black nimbus. The voice in Harry’s mind exulted; the spell had struck. If the spell shield had not been active, the annoying bastard would be dead. There was a part of him that felt rather upset that it was up.

Grinning, Harry lowered his wand. That would show the arrogant…

With another peal of thunder, jagged lightning flew from Verus to Harry, striking him squarely in the chest and knocking him unceremoniously onto his posterior. For a brief second Harry wanted to scream, he was burning, burning! The walls of the texi magicus pulsed, symbols flashing in bright patterns of yellow and red, and the burning sensation faded.

Shocked and not a little embarrassed, Harry felt the rush of power and the dark voice fade. Lying on the grass, Harry heard Verus approach. A hand was held down to him, and Harry let himself be helped to his feet for the second time that day. What he saw surprised him – rather than a stern glower or a gloating grin, Verus was smiling at him. This time the smile reached his eyes.

“Rule number three, Harry – always stay in control of your emotions. Feel them, harness them, use them, but don’t let them control you. I imagine I just saw a little bit of what must have happened this morning.” At Harry’s sullen nod, he continued.

“Dumbledore told me what happened to you when you were a child, Harry. Tom Riddle unconsciously imparted you with some of his powers. You can speak to snakes, for example. You’ll be surprised to hear, I am sure, that I think you are a powerful wizard in your own right. The power that he gave you is buried inside, waiting to be tapped and added to your own significant ability with magic. It would seem to access it you need to harness powerful emotions – hate, fear, desire, and love. This is very similar to how child wizards can occasionally perform magic without a wand.”

“You have to be careful Harry. As you have seen, letting the negative emotions take over gives you access to great power – but at a cost. What you have to learn, and what I am going to help teach you, is how to control your emotions, focus them, use them to tap that strength and still leave you in control. When I am through with you, simple verbal taunts will not reduce you to the intellectual level of an unreasoning beast.” His smile took some of the sting out of the words, and Harry couldn’t help but give a small smile in return. He opened his mouth to speak, but Verus silenced him with a look.

“Yes, to answer your next question. I taunted you on purpose, being fairly certain of the outcome. I am sorry I had to be cruel Harry, but I had to know what you are made of, and what your breaking point is. Today was simply a test, although I admit I am impressed with your command of basic curses, hexes, and charms. Tomorrow our real work will begin. I will be going over some of the counters you saw me use today, as well as some effective offensive strategies.”

“Can you show me how you turned the lightning back on me?” Harry asked. “I’ve seen that spell twice now. Professor Dumbledore used it to turn Nott’s fireball back on him.”

The Auror laughed then, a jolly laugh straight from the belly. “The man wants to run before he can walk. Perhaps one day I will show you the referio defense Harry, but it will not be soon. It is one of the most complex defensive magics of all, and it requires a sacrifice on the part of the caster.”

“Now then -- I am sure you are tired. I suggest you get some rest. We will meet here tomorrow at the same time. It was a pleasure meeting you Harry. Dumbledore was right – you’ll do just fine.” He walked over to the open box and waved his wand, speaking softly. The wall of light faded in momentarily and then was sucked into the box, which then closed with a soft click. Harry’s new teacher waved at him, and then with a soft ‘pop,’ he vanished.

Weariness in every step, Harry slowly made his way further from the Burrow. His mind was reeling with all that had happened today, and he needed to think. Verus Magister. Harry wasn’t sure quite what to make of him, and he was certain that was the older man’s aim. It was sure to be an interesting time over the next several days as he got to work with him more.

One thing was for certain – no matter what his new instructor said Harry knew that he should be worried over what had happened today. He didn’t think that awful snake-like voice would be easily controlled…and he wasn’t sure what damage it would do if it resurfaced again.

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The sound of running water had always been soothing to Harry. There was something about the peace to be found in the sound that appealed to him. Peace was a commodity in short supply in his life, and so he took advantage of it whenever he could. His head still full with all that he had seen and done during his first training session with Verus Magister, Harry sat near the small stream he had stumbled across in his wild flight from Hermione a few nights past.

He was frightened. That there was darkness in him he couldn’t deny, and the knowledge he could lose control of it at any time and leave destruction in his wake terrified him. Harry wanted to believe that his new instructor was correct; that he could learn to channel the rage and hate inside him and use it to do good – but he had been there, a stranger in his own body, when it had possessed him utterly twice already. He had been shown to brutal effect how losing control could kill him, and worse, those he loved. It was like knowing there was a demon trapped inside him, and feeling powerless to stop it from seizing him whenever it wanted. Harry was tired of not feeling in control of his life. He was going to succeed. He had to succeed. He had to quiet the reptilian voice in his head before it drove him mad. A soft sigh escaped his lips.

Hermione found him sitting near the water’s edge a short time later. He wasn’t surprised she knew where to find him – if anyone could read him well it was her. The past few days had changed everything between them, and Harry now realized the depth of her feelings for him. The loyalty and concern she showed him had always been there, to be sure. He had just never really thought about how FAR it truly went. She seemed to know him almost as well as he knew himself. When he needed to do something, even if it went against the rules, she was always by his side. True, he may have to listen to her argue about why he shouldn’t be doing it, but once she knew his mind was made up she was the first person there with him, silently gifting him with her loyalty, courage, and incredible intelligence. It had taken him far too long to realize she had also been giving him her love, unconditionally and without hesitation.

Part of Harry was ashamed to realize he had taken her friendship and her love for granted for years; another part marveled that he was fortunate enough to have someone as special as she was love him so completely. He had made a silent promise to himself that he would be more worthy of that love, and make a conscious effort to return it in the future. Hermione deserved nothing less. As he tried to focus on that positive thought, a small voice in the back of his head that kept reminding him of how she had looked earlier that morning when he had rained fiery destruction on the trees near the Burrow. She had been afraid – afraid of him. And knowing that fear was there in her heart was tearing his apart.

She silently sat down next to him near the burbling brook, threading the fingers of her hand through his. After a companionable silence that lasted several moments she turned to regard him seriously, brown eyes earnest and warm.

“I wanted to apologize about earlier, Harry. I hope you know I could never be afraid of you.” Funny, how she knew exactly what he was thinking. Like usual.

“I know” he lied, looking away. “Although I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” he added under his breath. “I’m afraid of me.” He didn’t mean for Hermione to hear the muttering, but she must have, because she tightened her grip on his hand and gently turned his head to look at her again.

“Listen to me Harry. You’ll be surprised to learn that I am not perfect. I make mistakes just like everyone else. What you saw today was fear, but it was because I was afraid for you, not of you. I should have made that clear earlier, but like I said, I am not perfect.” Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I know you would never hurt me Harry.”

“Not on purpose” he agreed, his eyes tortured. “But what if I can’t control myself? What if…whatever this thing is inside me reaches out and takes over again and I can’t help it?” Hermione could feel him trembling as he voiced his fears.

“It isn’t a thing, Harry, it’s your own negative feelings,” she told him. “All you have to do is learn to control your own anger.” Her soft fingers stroked his gently. “I know you will do it, too. The person I love isn’t a monster, and I know in my heart that he could never harm someone he cares about.” The absolute certainty in her voice struck a chord deep within him, and he couldn’t help but respond.

Harry smiled, his hands moving to grasp her shoulders gently.

“What did I do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?” he whispered in wonder. One finger moved to gently trace a line down the side of her face.

“You didn’t do anything Harry. You were just yourself.” Her eyes bored into him, filled with kindness and respect and caring. “I see YOU Harry. And you are beautiful.”

“I don’t deserve you” he said, voice thick with emotion. Seeing her about to protest, he hurried on. “I…..I’m not good at talking about my feelings, Hermione. I don’t have your way with words, but let me try and say this so that you can understand.”

“I didn’t know love. I was never given it. I could guess about how it felt, seeing it in the world around me, but never had it for my own. You know about my life with the Dursleys – you know what I have lived through. Even though I may understand the WHY of it now, a part of me will always resent that it was necessary. When I came to Hogwarts I finally made friends, and I knew what that kind of love was like. It was like…….” A yearning smile came to his lips. “It was like finally being alive. I imagine that is partly why I’m so fiercely protective of my friends; I couldn’t bear to lose something so precious.”

“I am still trying to understand these feelings I have for you; it took me years to even realize what they were. I am not familiar with love, Hermione. I am so afraid I won’t know what to say, won’t know how to act. You have shown me what true love is,” he told her. Harry looked into her eyes, pain and regret filling his own. “You have given it to me for years, and I was too big a fool to see it. Even as I drew on it, drew on your strength, I was blind to what it was you were really offering me. You deserve someone who can love you like you deserve to be loved. Someone who will treat you like the amazing and special person you are. Not me. I’m too wrapped up in myself and my own problems to be good for you. Even if I weren’t dangerous to be around, I don’t deserve your love.”

Eyes bright with unshed tears, Hermione took his face in both her hands.

“There is no book for love,” she told him softly. “No manual to follow. There is no right or wrong. There is no perfect love. You just give the other person all of yourself, the good and the bad, and they give you the same in return. There are no guarantees. And you, Harry Potter --” She smiled, and Harry realized then there was no more beautiful sight in the world “—you give yourself freely. I have never met anyone like you, who helps others without thinking, who is willing to sacrifice himself to spare others pain. You say you don’t know love, but you do Harry. You do. You give your love to anyone willing to receive it, and you do it selflessly. That is why I love you. You may not have realized my feelings for you before now, but you have shown me love all the same. The difference is now it has become something more. You’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been Harry – and all I want to do is go on showing you how much I love you. Don’t ever worry you aren’t worthy of love, because you are the most worthy person I’ve ever known.”

Smiling through his tears, Harry pulled Hermione close, his lips lightly pressing against hers. He held her as tightly as could, letting his body try and express what all the words in the world couldn’t. He wasn’t sure how he had been lucky enough to win the love of the amazing witch in his arms, and right then he didn’t care. All that mattered at that moment was that they were together, and the knowledge in his heart that with her by his side there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish. She made him feel like there was nothing he couldn’t overcome. She made him feel special. But most of all, she made him feel loved. Harry knew that tough days were ahead, days of training and worry and constant nervous vigilance – but he knew he would get through it……with her.

Closing his eyes, Harry tuned out his doubts and worries; letting the sound of the running water and the feelings he had for the woman in his arms suffuse him. As he kissed Hermione, Harry felt at peace. The sinister awareness in his mind faded away completely.

Sunlight streamed down through the trees, sparkling on the surface of the water. On the bank of the stream, two teenagers held each other in the stillness, cherishing what they had found in each other.

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Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it. Things are coming along more smoothly now I am happy to report, and I hope to have new chapters out every 2-3 weeks (maybe faster, time permitting.) A special thanks to my beta Sarah, who gets back to me quickly and always has insightful ideas. I also want to thank all the kind reviewers for their feedback. Writers write to tell a story, and it is a great feeling to hear that others are enjoying your work. Please drop me a review -- they are much appreciated.