Us and Them by yuke15

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 21/12/2006
Last Updated: 22/09/2007
Status: In Progress

"It's us against them from now on, Hermione. We can't force them to side with us.
This is our fight now." What happens when Harry takes charge of his own life and grows tired
of trying to please those around him.




1. Carried Away
---------------

Disclaimer: I own none of this. I’m making no money from anything on this page. Any similarities
in this story and other authors’ stories is purely coincidental unless otherwise stated. These
characters belong to JK Rowling; I’m just playing with them.

**Carried Away**

For Ginny Weasley, the past four weeks had been complete Hell. Not only did it seem Harry been
serious about breaking up with her, now he was refusing to talk to her. Well, he was refusing to
talk to anyone, for that matter. And, to make things worse, her mother had taken to coddling her
like she was a child. She was beginning to feel quite smothered and desperate to be out from her
mother's control. Even more so now that the wedding had been taken away from her. Fleur's
parents had been quite adamant about having a wedding appropriate for a Veela. So, a wedding
planner was hired and the ceremony would be held in a hall at the Ministry. With no reason to stay
at the burrow and in danger, her mother had made the decision to move them all back to Grimmauld
Place. For four weeks they'd been doing housework everyday. She had overheard her mother
telling her father that, “having the children here and working all summer will keep their minds off
of less desirable things,” after he'd questioned her about, perhaps, they all take a week off
from the work. So here she was stuck in this forsaken place, doing nothing but cleaning.

What was making her nervous about being in Headquarters was that while she had known Number 12
had been under the Fidelius Charm and that Dumbledore had been Secret Keeper, it was common
knowledge that magic died with it’s caster, what would make this any different? Two days into their
stay she questioned her mother about how safe they really were staying there.

*“Mum?” Ginny asked, “How is it that we can stay here when Professor Dumbledore was Secret
Keeper?”*

*Molly sighed. “Well, Gin, the Order had the same question, and they asked Albus when the
Order was reconvened. He said that no matter what happened, the secret would be safe. He told us
the secret would die with the Secret Keeper. The Fidelius Charm is unique because when it's
cast, the charm isn’t tied to a specific witch or wizard, the magic is contained in the secret
itself, so until the secret itself is destroyed everyone is safe.*

*“So, because the building itself is being kept a secret, everyone will be safe here until the
building is destroyed?” Ginny asked, applying the theory.*

*“Exactly.”*

*The end of the first week brought Hermione and her parents to stay at Number 12, and with
them the onslaught of ridiculously annoying questions from both her parents and her father.*
Ginny hadn’t been in a favourable mood yet this summer and being constantly pestered by Hermione’s
parents for every possible piece of information on magic wasn’t helping in the least. She was
starting to understand the way Harry must feel when around her father. She also resented the fact
of just how ignorant Hermione kept her parents of their world. The worst of it was that they kept
asking her about Harry, but not about her and Harry, just Harry. Apparently that’s the only part of
the magical world Hermione ever talked about. If Hermione weren’t with Ron, she’d really have to be
worried.

Ginny wrote to Harry nearly every night and owl after owl to him went unanswered. She simply
wrote it off as the Order intercepting the owls and he would confirm it when he finally arrived.
After three weeks, however, she was beginning to have doubts as to whether or not the letters
really were being taken by the Order. You would think that after seventeen owls, the Order might
read one and forward it to Harry.

The door burst open just as Ginny flopped onto her bed, grumbling to herself, “He better not
have been serious about ending things between us, for his own well-being--”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Four weeks ago*

‘*OK, the simple truth, the rest can come later,’* Hermione Granger silently steeled
herself for the explanation she was about to give her parents. She had been preparing for this
conversation since they got on the Hogwarts Express, this morning, all through dinner, and now that
she was prepared for bed, she couldn’t put it off any longer. Taking a deep breath, she entered her
parents’ private study two doors down from the library on their tri-level home just outside of
London.

“Mum, Daddy? Can we talk for a few minutes?” Hermione asked quietly.

Sure, Sweetheart, what is it?” her father’s deep, kind voice offered.

“It’s a lot of things, actually. The most important of which is that Harry is going to need a
lot of help for at least the coming year, maybe longer, and I‘m going to be with him. He’s fighting
for our lives, for everyone’s lives, and for his life right now. Every day the danger he’s in is
getting closer and he’ll be leaving in just over a month, and I for one, maybe even Ron, have no
intention of letting him go alone. Voldemort knows this and I expect him to exploit it. Which
brings me to my next point; he *will* attack here. The attack will come soon. This won’t be an
attack on you, so much as it is on Harry’s love of those around him, and their families by
extension,” She paused when she noticed her parents glance nervously at one another, and gave them
an opportunity to interrupt.

When they didn’t, she continued, “We aren’t safe here, and won’t be for a long while, I figure.
I know that both of you love your surgery and you especially love this house, but we can’t stay
here. I won’t allow you to stay here.”

“There are ways that we can protect ourselves, you know that,” her mother tried to reason. “We
can’t just up and leave our lives over some whim of our seventeen-year-old daughter. Even if we
did, where would we go, how would we fund it? Without income, we don’t have the money to hide away
for any long period of time, surely you can see that.”

“No, Mum. You don’t understand. There are no muggle protections that have any chance of working.
None. If you don’t leave, the Death Eaters will kill you,” Hermione said, eyes filling with tears.
“It’s that simple, and it hurts me to hear that after all the death that I’ve seen, all the death
my best friend has seen, that you’d doubt my assessment of the situation.”

“Muggle? Is that what we’ve become to you? Your can protect us.”

“What?” Hermione asked, blatantly rhetorical. “Military training and firearms? That won’t help
you, not in the least! One word will stop any physical object from touching them and two more will
leave you dead in seconds. I hate that you have to be threatened by what happens in my world. But,
why won’t you believe that all I want you to do is to stay alive!”

“I *do* believe you,” her father said in a quiet voice that held much contrast to her
mother’s, “but you must realize that this is a lot to comprehend at the moment. You’re asking us to
give up our lives. And your mother has her points too, however. We won’t have the funds to just
disappear or purchase a place that would be able to hide us effectively from the these men.
Shutting down the office wouldn't be a problem, we could do that in about a week or so. But
it's just all the other things, Hell, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“You won’t have to start anywhere, I’ll have all that covered. The place I stayed summer before
last had literally dropped of the face of the Earth before anyone was allowed to stay there.
Funding it won’t be a problem and there will be plenty for you to work on, if you’d like,” Hermione
stated matter-of-factly.

“I did noticed that neither of you asked about where Harry, Ron, and I were going. Don’t get me
wrong, I appreciate you not fighting me on this and that I’ll tell you as much as I can as soon as
Harry gets to where it is we’re going. But until then, I have a challenge to propose.”

“We’re listening,” Her mother replied.

*‘Keep Ginny out of my hair until Harry gets back.’* Hermione thought to herself. “Learn as
much as you can about the wizarding world from anyone but me. That should help you understand
what’s at stake, and also keep you mostly occupied for a few weeks.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He better not have been serious about ending things between us, for his own well-being--”

“I am going to kill your brother before this summer is over! He is such an insufferable prat!
Aren‘t there things he should be doing for the wedding?” Hermione raged.

“Well, not exactly, Fleur’s parents decided that the Burrow wasn’t good enough for their
daughter and hired a wedding planner and booked a banquet hall at the Ministry,” Ginny replied,
rolling her eyes. “But what did my genius of a brother do now?” Ginny asked, in a rather bored
tone.

Hermione huffed and dropped onto Ginny’s bed, “I’ve been here nearly three weeks and all he’s
tried to do is get me alone and away from the library. He says he wants to take our
*relationship*, he actually said relationship, to the next level. I told him that we don’t
have a relationship past us being friends,” Hermione immediately recognized the look of shock on
her friends face. “What?”

“You broke up, too?” Ginny asked, bewildered.

“There was never anything to break up from!” Hermione barked. She continued cautiously quiet,
“And what do you mean by ‘too?’

“I just assumed you guys had gotten it together after he was poisoned. Then it looked, at
Dumbledore’s funeral, that you had changed him somehow; he’s never known what to do with a crying
girl before,” Ginny attempted to sidestep Hermione’s question, she apparently didn’t know Hermione
as well as she thought.

“You’re avoiding my question, Ginny. What did you mean before?”

“Harry broke up with me at the funeral, alright. He was being noble, said he didn’t want me to
become a target,” Hermione had enough practice hiding her own emotions to protect those of the
people around her. It was Harry most often, especially when the situation was about girls. She had
to admit to herself that she had a slight crush on the boy, but her subconscious knew, however,
that she was in over her head this time. So much so that she had to fight the urge to jump for joy
at Ginny’s declaration. “But what about you and Ron?”

“Well, of course I was nice to him, he nearly died. I only realized that all of our fighting and
bickering would be nothing but a distraction in the future, not only for ourselves, but Harry as
well. As far as the funeral goes, whom exactly was I supposed to turn to? You” Hermione suggested
sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re so very clever. So the only reason you’re getting along with my brother is because
of Harry? Some friend you are.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean, Ginny? I mean if it weren’t for Harry, I wouldn’t even
be friends with Ron, maybe not even you. In a way, all my friendships go back to Harry.”

“Yes, yes, it’s always about Harry, I should have known,” Ginny spat.

“That’s right, it is always about Harry in some way or another. You *should* know that.
Most of the time these things aren’t good, as I’m sure you’ve realized during your obsession toward
him. It’s something that haunts him, in case you haven’t noticed!”

“And in case you haven’t noticed you are no longer the most important person in Harry’s life!”
She had struck a nerve, something in Hermione’s demeanour, in her eyes, changed. She could feel the
tension in the air shift, she knew she had crossed some line, yet hadn’t regretted it. Feared it,
yes, but there was no regret.

“Oh really,” Hermione sneered, fire in her eyes, “and I suppose you think *you’re* the most
important person in Harry’s life?” it wasn’t really a question, Ginny knew that much. “I do believe
he just dumped you not a month ago. ‘Oh he was being *noble*,’” Hermione mocked. “Please. The
Harry I know would never just ignore shared feelings like that. Harry has an irrepressible need to
please people. Something must have been truly wrong with the situation he was in,” this Hermione
scared Ginny; Hermione was the type who pulled the obvious punches, she usually used an
inconspicuous strategy. “He did this for a personal reason that you’ll have to find out for
yourself. And keep your brother away from me!” she barked, slamming the door behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione glanced at the clock on her bedside table. *12:13 AM.* Remus was due to pick her
up in two minutes. They had decided that afternoon, shortly after her argument with Ginny, that
Harry would be retrieved early the next morning. Of course Remus had attempted to put his foot down
and told Hermione that she wasn’t going. She smirked, watching the seconds go by, at how easy it
was to… persuade Remus otherwise. There was nothing like an angry woman’s threats to put men in
their place. He stalked away and she distinctly heard him mutter, “Lily would have been right
impressed.”

“You ready?” Remus asked from the doorway.

“Absolutely. How are we going?” her voice masking the nervous anticipation she felt about seeing
Harry again.

“Portkey, there and back,” he answered as they made there way down to the foyer. Hermione
observed Tonks chatting with a dark haired witch as she neared the door.

“Wotcher, Hermione,” Tonks called merrily. “Oh wow, this past year has really agreed with you
hasn’t it,” she said breathlessly, “you look beautiful!”

“Really, you think so?” in all reality she had noticed some changes over the past year. A slight
shift in her bone structure, a widening in her hips, … plumping… in certain areas, and most
noticeable being that her hair had become much less frizzy and the curls had loosened. They were
subtle, but she hoped it was enough to catch a certain someone’s attention.

“Absolutely,” Tonks said seriously. “Now, I don’t think you’ve had the pleasure of meeting
Hestia. Hestia Jones, this is Hermione Granger, Harry’s right-hand m… excuse me, I mean right-hand
woman.”

“I think that may be saying much. It’s Ron who’s--”

“Ron only wishes, Hermione. Only wishes about many things, if I’ve got my gossip straight,”
Tonks replied slyly. Hermione blushed.

“Nymphadora,” Remus warned. Tonks responded by sticking out her tongue.

“It’s just the four of us, and we’ve got about ten seconds.” They all stood in silence, holding
sections of the old, frayed jump rope that was the portkey. Soon Hermione felt the familiar tug in
her stomach as her feet swiftly left the ground only to land heavily in a kitchen just seconds
later.

“Okay,” whispered Remus, “we go quickly and quietly. Nobody makes a sound… Nymphadora,” he added
as an after thought. They quickly made their out of the kitchen toward the stairs. Hermione and
Hestia fell in behind Remus and Tonks as they climbed the stairs and approached Harry’s door. Upon
reaching it Hermione felt sick at the sight. The door was had no less than five locks on the out
side, all of which were bolted.

“How could those people treat a child this way? Look at this, there isn’t anyone who deserves
this!” Hermione whispered fiercely.

“We know, Hermione, but there’s nothing we can do about it now,” Remus tried to reason. “For
now, I want you and Hestia to stay and watch the door. We need to give Harry time to pack his
things. Hestia, you know the protocol in regards to the Dursleys? Good,” he answered at her nod in
the affirmative. Hermione watched as he unlocked the numerous locks on the door. When they slipped
into the room, Hermione moved closer to the door in order to hear the conversation inside.

“Harry, it’s alright, it’s only us, Remus and Tonks,” Remus whispered loudly. “Come on and pack,
we’re taking you back to headquarters. What do you mean ‘No’?” ‘*no?*’ Hermione thought, *‘I
didn’t hear anything.’* She leaned closer the door. “You have to come with us, Harry. I suppose
you just like to stay here for the rest of the summer, then?”

“You know that I didn’t mean that! Now get up and get your things,” Remus said a bit more
forcefully than before. “Harry there’s no need for that. We’re not trying to do you any harm, just
lower your wand. Fine, we’ll give you a few minutes to think this over, then we’ll get your final
answer.”

Both Tonks and Remus came out of the room backwards as to not take their eyes off of Harry.
Hermione couldn’t comprehend why Harry was acting this way toward the people that love him.
Something must be horribly wrong. “What’s the matter?” Hestia asked quietly.

“We’re not really sure. We need you to go in and talk to him, Hermione” Remus said.

In that moment, the whole situation came together, She now knew why she was there. “I can’t
believe you would lie to me like that. You knew that I would help you, that I would help Harry no
matter what!” Hermione seethed.

“What is she talking about, Remus?” Tonks asked quietly.

"He knew this is how Harry was going to react. Then, when I asked to come with tonight, he
acted like he didn't want me to and I had to 'convince' him. It's despicable how
Harry has been treated and then you leave him here this long knowing that he could very well be
going insane! How could you do that to another human being, let alone someone who loves you?
He's had to spend less and less time here every year and now you leave him for the longest
duration in years! A week would have sufficed. Are you’re happy with what you've done to him?”
She asked rhetorically. “I hope you know he may never speak to you again!"

"Do you really think he would do that," Hestia whispered to Tonks as Hermione spun
toward Harry's door.

"He might, these people have treated him inhumanely. Leaving him could have broken his
trust,” Tonks responded just as quietly.

Hermione slowly opened Harry's door to find him still holding his wand, but only just. He
sat at the edge of the bed with his shoulders slumped and eyes fixed on the floor. It broke her
heart to see Harry look so defeated. "Harry?" she called quietly. She could have never
prepared to see what she did when he looked up. He looked dreadful, like he hadn't slept,
shaved, or eaten in days. His eyes, once a vibrant green, now looked empty and lost, almost dead.
He was broken, the knowledge of where he was going weighed heavily on his already worried mind. But
something in his eyes shifted when he recognized the form in front of him.

Hermione watched his eyes as they travelled up and down her body, studying her. She loved the
way he made her stomach flip by simply looking at her. *‘Thank Merlin for the dimness of the
room,’* she thought as the heat developed on her cheeks when his eyes still remained on her. He
raised his eyes to hers. She saw as his eyes quickly darted toward the door and back to her
eyes.

"Oh, no, it's really me. Tonks is still outside with Remus. Here, I'll show
you," Hermione walked back into the hall and pulled Tonks into the door way so Harry could see
the two of them at the same time. She felt completely foolish to think that Harry would actually be
looking at her in that way. She came back into the room to see Harry looking back at the door
still. "Would you like me to close the door?" He nodded.

"What happened to you Harry?" Hermione asked bluntly after closing the door. Harry,
however, didn't answer her, forward or not. He lay back on to his bed again and refused to look
toward her. "Don't cut me out, too, Harry. I've been trying to get you out of here for
weeks. I don't care what you say Harry, I know you, and you would rather be with the people who
love you in your-- Sirius' house, than here with no one. I won't let you do anything but
leave this place. Look what it's done to you."

"I don't want to go back there, Hermione. I never wanted to go back there," his
voice sounded scratchy and unused. Hermione walked over to his bed and sat down on his desk chair.
He lay there, motionless with his eyes closed.

"It won't be so bad. You won't be alone," he groaned and grimaced at the
thought of being around the large crowd. "Well, you don't have to be around everyone all
the time. I'm sure there are places you can hide, I'd even help you." Harry only shook
his head and got a pleading look in his eye. She huffed and knew she had to pull out the whole
truth for this one. "Please Harry, if you’re not doing this for yourself, do it for me. I feel
horrible about last year and want to make it up to you. I miss you, Harry. It's been a horrible
summer; I haven't had anyone to talk to. So please just come back." Hermione noticed Harry
had confused look on his face, but he didn't say anything so she let it drop for now. She
reached down and took his hand, she felt more confident about their friendship when he didn't
resist her pulling him off his bed. Maybe she hadn't ruined their relationship the previous
year as she had sadly believed. She had never been more relieved during a non-life threatening
situation when he slowly stood then reached out and pulled her into his arms.

It felt so good to be entwined with him, protected by him. "I'm sorry, Hermione. For
everything," he said softly. She wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for, but this
was the first time in her life she hadn't had to learn the 'why' of something as soon
as she possibly could. She was content to know that he felt he needed to apologize to her for
whatever he thought he had done.

"Whatever it is, Harry, I'm sure you don't needn’t apologize and I won't hear
another word about it. Do you hear me?" She told him firmly.

"Yeah, Mione, loud and clear," he mumbled.

"Good. Now let’s get you out of this hell-hole and back to where the people love
you."

_______________

A/N: Inspiration: Shinedown’s *Carried Away.* B side of Us and Them.



2. In Memories
--------------

Disclaimer: I own none of this. I’m making no money from anything on this page. Any similarities
in this story and other authors’ stories is purely coincidental unless otherwise stated. These
characters belong to JK Rowling, I’m just playing with them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**In Memories.**

"Oh, Harry! I've been worried sick about you!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, engulfing
Harry in a bone-crushing hug the following morning at breakfast. "Oh, you're far to thin.
Look at you, have you eaten at all in the past month? Come, come, have some breakfast, dear."
Harry only nodded in response. Mrs. Weasley pulled away from her hug to study him some more.
"And have you been getting any sleep at all? Once you've finished your breakfast,
you're to go right up to bed," Mrs. Weasley said before continuing to bustle around the
kitchen. Hermione thought it strange that Mrs. Weasley hadn't noticed anything else wrong with
Harry than him being tired and skinny. There was, most definitely something wrong with Harry, and
hoped the rest of the house would realize that he didn't need to be smothered with reassurances
that everyone would be there for him.

Hermione smiled when Harry took the seat right of her at the otherwise empty kitchen table.
"Good morning, Harry," he didn't respond, but she smiled at him anyway, remembering
the way he thought about her feelings the night before. She simply couldn't believe that he was
mature enough to think of her feelings before his own. *'Ron would never have done such a
thing, he was only worried about what personal gain he could get out of a situation,'*
Hermione thought, immediately feeling guilty for even thinking such a thing. Whether her thought
was true or not, comparing Harry and Ron wasn‘t fair to either of them, because she knew which
would always win.

Hermione sat observing Mrs. Weasley and found that she, too, found something different in Harry.
It must have been a mother's intuition, but whatever 'it' was proved Hermione wrong in
thinking she would be the only one to see the difference. It was obvious Mrs. Weasley knew
something was off; she was looking at him differently. It wasn't pity, but a look of
understanding that this war had taken a very serious turn for the worse. Whether this was the
reason Harry was in this condition remained to be seen. One thing Mrs. Weasley was always sure
would help was a nice, big, homemade meal, and in this case Hermione agreed one hundred
percent.

When Hermione noticed the low rumbling somewhere above them of Ron, Ginny and the twins making
their way downstairs, she and Harry were almost finished with their breakfast. She was thankful for
this in part because she knew Harry had eaten all of the extra-large servings Mrs. Weasley had set
in front of him, but mostly because he'd have to spend little time with the rest of the
Weasley's. She looked to her right to see Harry paying no attention to the growing noise. The
kitchen door burst open as the four Weasley children came rushing into the kitchen. Hermione
didn't miss the fact that neither Ron nor Ginny greeted her a good morning. All four were at
their seats before the twins realized Harry was there.

"Oy, Harry! How's it going, mate?" Fred asked as if Harry turning up overnight was
completely normal. Hermione realized that it *was* quite the normal experience for them. But,
by the way Ginny reacted; one would have to assume that he had just returned after being gone
years.

"HARRY!" she shrieked and ran around the table to wrap her arms around as best she
could when he didn't stand. "How I've missed you so. I was so worried that you were in
some kind of trouble after you didn't answer any of my owls." Ron looked annoyedly at
Ginny for not allowing him to greet his best mate. "Why didn't you answer my owls?"
her voice quieting so her mother couldn't hear. "You weren't serious when you broke up
with me were you? That was just in the heat of the moment, right?"

Still, Harry refused to speak. Hermione felt a grim sense of satisfaction in knowing she was the
only one who had gotten him to say anything. She barely kept a neutral expression when Harry stood
and took his dishes to the sink and walked out of the room. Hermione watched as Ron and Ginny
quickly followed Harry out of the kitchen.

"Well, he isn't in any mood for our dear siblings is he, Fred?" George joked
quietly.

"He most certainly is not, my good brother. Why exactly is that, Hermione?"

"What makes you think I would have any idea?" Hermione asked evasively.

"Well you are--" Fred began.

"his best friend," George finished.

"I wouldn't say his best friend," she retorted.

"Well then it's a good thing we aren't asking you," Fred snarked.
"Everyone can see the two of you are better friends. Ron is a good friend, but he's gotten
his head stuck up is arse too often."

"Fine, if you must know, Harry broke up with Ginny at Dumbledore's funeral to protect
her from Voldemort. Then with being stuck at that place for a month, he just isn't himself
anymore. And to be perfectly honest, I don't think protection was the only reason he split with
your sister. I think there was something entirely different going through his mind. She's only
going to drive him further away when she keeps trying to force things."

"That does sound like our sweet little sis, spoiled to the bone. And a fat lot of good
it's doing her, isn't it?" George replied.

"You know what? I don't give the two of you enough credit. You're much more
perceptive than you let on," Hermione said, sounding impressed.

"Well we have to be; otherwise it would be hard to know which pranks to pull on which
people," Fred explained, "like we would use Harry to pull a prank on you. He's your
one blind spot. But we would never involve you in a prank for Harry, we'd be dead men should
anything happen to you."

"And don't you forget it. Just don't be afraid to lend some of your insight to Ron,
he needs all he can muster,” Hermione retorted. “I think I may need to rescue your siblings. So if
you don’t mind, I’ll see you guys later.”

As Hermione climbed the stairs, she could make out voices, but not words. Harry had surprised
her the night before by choosing to stay in Sirius’s old bedroom. *‘I suppose it’s his way of
staying close,” Hermione thought.” Or the furthest away from everyone else.”* As she moved
nearer to the door, she heard the tone of Ginny’s voice and it immediately put her on the
defensive. Ginny sounded very harsh as she attempted to force answers out of Harry.

She should have known by now that if Harry didn’t want to give answers, than he wasn’t going to
give them. Hermione heard only a few words before bursting through the door.

“Harry, I demand to know why you haven’t answered any of my owls!” Ginny shouted. Harry was, of
course, refusing to even look in her direction.

“That’s enough!” Hermione barked, before resuming her calm, logical tone. “I think that you and
Ron ought to leave. It’s apparent that this is not the time for you to be doing this.”

Ginny looked like she wanted nothing more than to hex Hermione into oblivion. In fact, her hand
actually flinched toward her hidden wand, but was cut off by Ron, who sneered his response.

“I don’t think it’s any of your business. Now why don’t you leave and find some book to read,
since it’s *apparent* that that’s all you do anyway.” Harry shot off the bed, at the malice in
Ron’s voice, his fists clenched, facing Ron, and Hermione behind him. In her own opinion, Hermione
thought that Ron deserved to be hit, but her logical side made her reach out and pull Harry away,
moving with much more ease than she had anticipated. He remained, however, in a very threatening
stance toward Ron.

“No Harry, that’s alright,” she turned to Ron, taking a deep breath to prepare for what he was
forcing her to say. “Ron, I told you from the beginning that if anything was going to happen
between us, it was going to happen very slowly. I wanted to be sure that we would work out alright,
and not rush into anything that would ruin our friendship. I was *never* sure that what I was
feeling for you was what you were feeling for me, I thought that you understood that. You should
know me better than to think that I would be as… *physical…* as Lavender was. I also explained
why that was in a very mature manner. Yet you still tried to move faster than I ever wanted. So you
have absolutely no right to be angry at me about a situation that has less to do with you than
anyone else. This,” She gestured toward Harry and Ginny, “has even less to do with you.

“Oh, and if you ever speak to me in that manner ever again you will no longer be able to have
children, do you understand me?” Hermione addressed him in an eerily calm tone.

“Something that involves the mistreatment of my sister is my business,” Ron said, whose face was
scarlet with rage, thought better than to dismiss Hermione’s threat, and left the room. His fear of
Hermione trumping his anger toward her.

“Now, Ginny,” Hermione began as if the preceding hadn’t occurred, “I understand that you want
answers, but Harry isn’t in any mood to give them. I suggest that you stop trying to force them
before you say something you regret like your oh-so-wonderful brother.”

“No, I refuse to leave. I *do* want answers, and I *am* going to get them,” Ginny
proclaimed. “I think you should heed your own advice and get out before you do something you’ll
regret.”

“I’d regret but one thing, Ginny, and that would be having to resort to magic to force you from
this room. Now leave!” Hermione barked. Ginny glanced once at Harry who was looking at Hermione
peculiarly. Then, looking like quite the spoiled brat, stomped out of Harry’s room in a fit.

“I’m sorry I yelled at her,” Hermione bashfully turned toward Harry. “I just couldn’t let her
keep badgering you like she was. If you want to be alone, they should understand that,” Hermione
paused, but the silence grew longer, and awkward.

“Right, well I’ll let you get back to sleep. I’ll be in the library across the hall if you need
anything.”

She turned and took a step toward the door before Harry grabbed her by the elbow and gently
pulled her back around. He didn’t say anything at first. He took a moment to regard her like he had
the night before. The look on his face told her he was indecisive about something. “Harry? What’s
wrong?” the concern she felt etched into her voice.

He quickly shook his head, indicating nothing was wrong. “Will you stay?” he asked quietly.

“You want me to stay here while you sleep,” Hermione asked, confused. Again he shook his head
quickly.

“I… I won’t sleep. I couldn’t.” Hearing him say that he couldn’t sleep had scared Hermione. His
realization brought whatever psychological issues he was facing to a whole other level in her
eyes.

“Please tell me that you’re not having nightmares again.”

“I can’t,” he said sadly.

“What are they of, Harry?” Hermione asked quietly.

“I… I do things that I never thought…”

“Oh,” Hermione breathed. He was scared of himself, what he could become. She had assumed his
problem had been directly related to Voldemort. Never what he imagined himself doing. If he could
just open up a bit more, this would be so much easier to help him with. “Harry, I want you to know
that there is no way you could ever turn into him. It’s that simple; you couldn’t and I wouldn’t
let you,” she told him, figuratively putting her foot down.

“It’s not just that,” Harry said so quietly Hermione could hardly hear him, “I’m more… I’m way
more powerful than I was before. I can do things like he can. My magic is like his now.”

“How exactly has your magic changed?”

“I can manipulate magic now. No wands, no words, I just make things happen. I think it happened
because I feel so much hatred for Voldemort… and Snape.” Harry looked as scared as Hermione had
ever seen him.

“Your magic is nothing like Voldemort’s. You would never use magic the way He has. Don’t you
remember what Dumbledore said, that it’s your choices that separate you from Voldemort. You are his
complete opposite, Harry. The nature of your choices will never change; the real Harry will always
be the boy that I met on the Hogwarts Express. You don’t realize how great you truly are,
Harry.”

“Thanks,” He muttered, but she could tell he really didn’t believe her. At least she had said
what she wanted to, and he had heard it. She knew that was enough to make him think on it.

Suddenly, she realized, he *knew* his magic had changed, which meant only one thing,
“Harry! You’ve been doing underage magic!” he nodded. “That was a very stupid thing to do. You
could have given Scrimgeour opportunity to seriously black mail you. You know that he could have
forced you to take the Ministry’s side in the war. That, or he could’ve snapped your wand!”

“It’s not like I need it,” he replied with a cheeky smile. It was the first time she had seen
him smile since before Dumbledore’s funeral.

“That’s hardly the point, Harry.”

“Well, I wasn’t using my wand so they’d have a hell of a time proving that I had done it, and
they can’t trace wandless magic,” Harry countered.

“That’s fair enough,” she surrendered. Sitting down next to him on the bed and breathe a heavy
sigh of relief. She felt that Harry had escaped the immediate danger that his depression could have
caused.

She looked around the massive room, in which she had never been. The inside was obviously
expanded to much larger than the house could possible hold. There was only one way to describe the
room: Slytherin. The room was black and emerald. The colors were everywhere from the drapery around
the four-poster, canopy bed to the thick, lush carpet. All the furniture in the room was ebony with
large emeralds set stylish locations. The bed that they were sitting on was enormous, substantially
larger than any ‘king-sized’ bed she’d ever seen. Had the room not been styled after the Slytherin
common room, it would have been her dream room. At one end of the vast space was a personal library
with an ornate, ebony desk which was larger than any of the professors’ at Hogwarts. On the
opposing side of the room was the master bath with black and emerald marble surfaces with silver
fixtures. Next to the bath was a large, walk-in wardrobe larger than most bedrooms she had been in.
*‘That would be perfect to convert into a baby’s room for whoever’s living here permanently,’*
Hermione thought.

“Did you mean what you said before?” Harry asked quietly, drawing her attention away from the
magnificent room.

“Which part?”

“What you said to Ron.”

“That we’re pretty much done?” Hermione asked, he nodded. “Yeah, there just wasn’t anything
there for me. Ron’s great and I love him, just not the way he wanted me to.”

“Don’t I know how *that* feels.”

“So things with you and Ginny really are done? She thought that you broke it off because of the
emotion of the funeral.”

“No, we’re done. At first that was why I had done it, but now that I’ve had time away from her
to think about it I don’t want to get back together with her,” Harry paused, thinking of the words
to go with his thoughts. “There’s just too much distance between us. I mean, she just seems so far
away from where I am right now. I don’t think I could ever go back to the way I was before. And I
certainly can’t wait for her to catch up to me. Then to top it all off, she told me that she liked
me because I wouldn’t be happy unless I was fighting Voldemort. Like she was with me for the image
that I have.

“I mean I understand and can except that from people I don’t know, but from some one so close, I
don’t know. It was like she was lying to me the whole time. What else did she lie about. I don’t
know who she is anymore. Hell, I guess I never knew her.”

“Don’t every try to justify what she did, Harry,” Hermione told him. After a long moment
Hermione laughed disbelievingly, “It seems rather ironic that a situation this ugly took such a
long time to develop.”

Harry gave a short laugh, “Yeah, and it’s ironic that I just had this conversation. I avoid
feelings like the plague.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep, Harry,” Hermione suggested. “And if you don’t mind I’d like to
stay and check out your library. It looks like it has all the Black family favourites in it.”

“You know I would never mind. Make yourself comfortable, you’ll always be welcome here.”
Hermione battled to keep the tears from her eyes after his simple statement. Even though she knew
all was well between them, she was still moved at how quickly he seemed to forgive an entire
year.

She moved to the first book shelf and pulled the first book that caught her eye: *Animagi
Magical Theory.* She returned to find Harry just pulling down the comforter on his bed. “Ooh,
silk sheets! Those are lovely!” Hermione gushed at the expensive bedding.

“They’re alright,” Harry shrugged.

“Well, alright then. I’ll be quiet and you have a good kip.” Harry rolled over and placed his
glasses on the night table before settling deeply into his covers. Hermione walked over to the
large desk and muttered a silencing charm on it before searching through the drawers. In the last
drawer she found the second mirror Harry had told them about. For a long time she stared at her
reflection, thinking of the things Harry had just told her. It was easy to see why someone else
would feel so evil, but no one would ever doubt Harry’s dedication to the Light.

Hermione was startled out of her thoughts by a loud snore from Harry, before he returned to his
ordinary, barely audible snores. Hermione chuckled a bit as she picked up her book, moved quietly
to one of the soft, plush chairs near the library nook.

After about an hour Hermione’s attention was drawn to Harry, who was beginning to trash about
and mumble incoherently. She swiftly closed her book and moved to the edge of his bed. She saw that
he quickly developed a cold sweat and had begun to mummer “no” every few seconds. She found his
hand and linked her fingers with his. He immediately sensed the hand and immediately increased the
strength of his grip.

“No… No, don’t make me do it… I can’t, not her… I won’t do it, you bastard!… NO! Leave her
alone…” Fear gripped at Hermione’s heart. She had never heard Harry beg the way he was in this
nightmare. She moved to brush the sweaty hair off his forehead, but pulled her hand back sharply.
His scar was on fire. It was literally white-hot.

“Harry!” she whispered loudly. “Harry, you need to wake up. Come on, Harry,” she squeezed his
hand harder, while beginning to gently smooth back his hair.

“NO! NO! RUN!… HERMIONE!” Harry yelled snapping awake.

____________________

A/N: Inspiration: Shinedown’s *In Memories.* Thanks to those of you who reviewed. I have
the first few chapters written and I’m only changing a few things here and there. So, hopefully
I’ll have those up before Christmas, then perhaps a few more before heading back to BSU to start
serving my time in the architecture building. ‘Til next time… BEAR DOWN to all you Chicago fans out
there. Sweetness is always with us.



3. Stranger Inside
------------------

Disclaimer: I own none of this. I’m making no money from anything on this page. Any similarities
in this story to other authors’ stories are purely coincidental unless otherwise stated. These
characters belong to JK Rowling; I’m just playing with them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stranger Inside.

*Harry looked around and saw nothing but darkness, a vast, empty space.*

*“Kill her, Harry,” A mysterious voice commanded. The voice confused Harry, he had just
searched the space and there was nothing. There was no girl to kill.*

*“No,” No Harry responded his confusion disappearing, and his defenses bubbling to the
surface.*

*“You must kill, Harry, it is your destiny. You have no choice, you will kill her,” the voice
sounded almost warm and kind.*

*Harry looked at his feet, and saw a bound and gagged Hermione, her eyes open to reveal pure
terror. Panic tore at him; he had never seen her so terrified in all of his life. He had promised
himself, hadn’t he? He would never let anything happen to her again. “No, don’t make me do it,” he
pleaded with the voice. “I can’t, not her.”*

*“It doesn’t work that way, Harry. Did you think I forced you to go and get Sirius and
Dumbledore killed? It will happen one way or another, Harry. Would you rather someone else, who
will torture her, or you, quick and painless.”*

*“I won’t do it, you bastard!” Harry yelled, searching the space above him for the source of
the voice. Harry dropped to his knees, hurriedly untied Hermione, and helped her to her
feet.*

*“You leave me no choice, Harry. If you won’t, I most definitely will,”*

*“NO! Leave her alone!”*

*“Come, come Hermione. Face your death with pride. It is an honour to die at the hand of Harry
Potter.*

*“NO! NO! RUN!” Harry yelled urging Hermione forward.*

*She was just feet in front of him when he heard the voice bellowed “AVADA KEDAVRA!” Harry saw
the green bolt pass over his right shoulder and hit Hermione square in the back. He watched as she
fell forward.*

“HERMIONE!” Harry shouted as he awoke with a start. He found that Hermione was extremely close
to him. She had a firm grip on his hand and a cool hand on his clammy forehead. Even without his
glasses, her face was close enough for him to see her eyes were full of fear.

Harry let out a shaky breath of relief, “Oh, thank Merlin,” Harry muttered, just before Hermione
smothered him in a bone-crushing hug. Harry reveled in the sweet vanilla and brown sugar scent of
her hair. For the first time in a long time, he felt immediately calmed after a nightmare. All too
soon for Harry, Hermione pulled away and placed his glasses on his face.

“Oh, Harry, what happened? I’ve never heard you sound like that before,” Hermione said
shakily.

‘You think you were scared, at least you didn’t see your best friend murdered,’ Harry
thought.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hermione asked cautiously.

“No, not really. Do I ever?”

“No, I suppose you don’t,” Hermione said. Harry noticed she was biting her lip and avoiding eye
contact with Harry. Two telltale signs she had something to say that he probably wouldn’t like.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” she said at first. “You were talking in your sleep. You kept saying no, don’t
make me, I can’t, not her, I won’t, leave her alone, RUN, and then you screamed my name as you were
waking up. Please tell me what happened.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, “You were murdered. I don’t know by whom, it was just a voice
saying you were going to be killed because of me. We couldn’t run fast enough. And, well, you could
figure it out from there.” Harry then shocked himself by pulling Hermione back down into the hug.
He found himself pleasantly surprised when Hermione did nothing but settled in closer with her head
tucked in on his chest under his chin.

“Well, Harry,” Hermione said a bit more upbeat, “I have some not-so-bad news. When you were
dreaming, your scar was extremely hot to the touch. So had you been awake I’m sure that it would
have been hurting. So it isn’t really your mind causing you to have nightmares, it’s just Voldemort
again.”

“Well, that’s good news,” Harry said, deadpanned.

“Just a bit better than learning you may be turning into the next Dark Lord. Wouldn’t you say?”
Hermione asked, snuggling closer to Harry without realizing it. “Besides, you said you were much
more powerful now, so putting occlumency to practice shouldn’t be an issue. I’ll read up on the
right way to learn occlumency while I‘ve been here, it will be easy enough for you to learn.”

“Sounds good,” Harry replied. A silence fell upon them that was not awkward in the least.
“Hermione, are you comfortable with this?” Harry asked suddenly.

“With what exactly?” Hermione responded distantly.

“With how we are right now. Being close and not having to talk.”

“Yeah,” she sounded a little confused.

“Good.” Harry smiled to himself; maybe the potential for his feelings for Hermione wasn’t all in
his head after all. “I don’t think I could do this with Ginny. We didn’t do so well with silence. I
could be like this for--”

“Harry?” Hermione interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” she said dryly.

“Alright,” Harry had a smile on his face as he slowly drifted to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry could feel the warm body pressed up against him as he groggily straightened his glasses
with the hand of the arm that was tucked under his pillow. When he found them, he couldn’t fight of
a yawn and he stretched, arching his back, pressing into the body spooned up against him. Harry
froze as he heard the person moan softly. ‘Hermione!’ his mind shouted at him.

“Oh Merlin,” he whispered, “I’m in way over my head.” He slowly pulled his other arm from around
Hermione’s waist and rolled away from her.

“Harry? Is something wrong?” Hermione asked only half awake, before rolling herself over.

“No” Harry responded quietly. “Everything’s fine.”

“How long have we been asleep?” She asked following a yawn.

“Not very long, it’s only noon,” They both fell silent, lost in their own thoughts.

“It’s been before we got back from Hogwarts since I’ve slept that well. I hope you aren‘t
upset,” Harry said after a considerable silence.

“Of course I’m not upset. I haven’t slept well in ages either, long before that night,” Hermione
said.

“I need to tell you something, Harry. It’s been making me feel horribly guilty. Deep down, I
knew that Ron and I would never work that day he was poisoned. I was terrified when I heard what
happened, but when I found out he was going to be alright, it didn’t have near the effect on me as
it should have. I love him, you know I love him, but it was only as a good friend surviving some
freak situation,” Hermione said sadly. “With you, I would nearly lose my mind if you went into a
fast dive during Quidditch. I’m terrified for you whenever something remotely dangerous is
happening.

“Things have been a little tense around here lately, too. With Ron and me fighting and all. But
now Ginny is angry with me. We had a fight yesterday about you, it wasn’t pretty, I kinda let
loose.”

“Why were you fighting about me?” Harry asked.

“She seemed to think she was the most important person in your life, and I disagreed,” Hermione
gave a little impish smile. “She wasn’t very happy about that, and now you’re not talking to her.
She’s having a rough summer. I think we should head downstairs and see if things have calmed down.
Ron might be in a better mood, it is lunchtime after all.”

From their walk to the kitchen, it became apparent that the rest of the house was deserted.

“There you are, Harry, Hermione. We couldn’t find you all this morning,” Mrs. Weasley told her
while setting plates in front of him and Hermione.

“I was in Harry’s room, looking through the personal library. Surely you thought to look there?”
Hermione asked, confusedly.

“We did, but the door was locked and we couldn’t hear anything inside. Mum couldn’t even open
the door with an unlocking spell,” Ginny announced rather spitefully, whereas Ron maintained a
stubborn silence.

“We haven’t done any magic this morning. Harry went to sleep, just like you asked, Mrs. Weasley.
And I read before dozing off myself, it was a long night, after all.”

Everyone started as a nervous elf popped into view. “Dobby is sorry, Mrs. Wheezy. It was Dobby’s
fault that Master Harry’s room was sealed,” Dobby spoke rapidly. “Dobby sees that Master Harry and
his Miss were sleeping together and Dobby didn’t think theys should be bothered.

Harry’s eyes immediately shot to Hermione’s as Dobby misspoke. Both knew that this scene would
become ugly.

“WHAT!” Mrs. Weasley shouted as Ron sprayed his sister with the pumpkin juice he had been
attempting to drink. “SLEEPING TOGETHER?”

“No, Mrs. Weasley, it’s not what you think.”

“I WILL NOT TOLERATE SUCH BEHAVIOR UNDER MY ROOF!”

“YOU SLUT!” Ginny shouted, followed quickly by Ron’s “NOT PHYSICAL, MY ARSE!”

“THIS IS NOT YOUR HOUSE!” Harry shouted, rage immediately consuming his features. “SUCH BEHAVIOR
HAS NOT TAKEN PLACE AND I WILL NOT STAND AROUND AND LISTEN TO YOU INSULT HERMIONE!”

The fallout of Harry yelling at Mrs. Weasley was instantaneously apparent. Everyone stood
completely still, and Mrs. Weasley rage was matched only by her two present children.

Harry continued in a quieter, but by no means calmer, voice. “Dobby simply misspoke. We were
both asleep at the same time, thus, sleeping together. Furthermore, this is my house, left to me by
Sirius. It will never be your house. If what you were suggesting was to happen in this house the
only authority you would have would be over your own children. Not myself or Hermione.”

Harry turned quickly toward Ron and Ginny, “If you two have anything at all to say to Hermione,
I suggest you do it now, otherwise you will have to deal with me,” He observed them in their
silence. There was a noticeable energy surrounding Harry that none in the room wanted to confront.
“Well? Is there nothing you can think of? Fine, this is finished, here and now.”

“Come on, Harry,” Hermione pulled him toward the door, “I want you to meet my parents.”

“I didn’t know your parents were here,” Harry said in a light, conversational tone, quite the
opposite of how he had just addressed the Weasleys.

The fireplace at the end of the kitchen burst into life, effectively delaying Harry’s
introduction.

Hestia Jones’ face floated in the green flames. “Molly,” she said breathlessly, “the Grangers’
place was finally attacked. Several Aurors arrived straight away when the wards, which Kingsley set
up, were tripped. There were only two new recruits that entered the house. The entire Ministry has
been put on high alert, they reckon it was just a distraction, so tonight’s meeting’s been
cancelled.”

“Thank you, Hestia. I’ll let everyone else know,” Molly replied, while hurriedly putting away
remains of the lunch before bustling out of the room, pushing her way through the twins who had
just entered the kitchen.

“Merlin, Mother. What do we look like, ghosts?” Fred said loudly.

“She’s gone barking mad, I tell you,” George told Harry.

The twins took the seats on either side of Harry and Hermione. Fred leaned in close to Harry to
make sure he wasn’t over heard by Ron and Ginny who were bringing their dishes to the sink to be
washed. “Everyone is supposed to go to Diagon Alley today. You lot have to get fitted for dress
robes. When we get to there, we’ve got some things that may interest you in our shop,” Fred
whispered.

“Yeah, we’ve been doing some special research for you,” George continued at a much more natural
volume as Ron and Ginny had disappeared out of the kitchen. “I think you’ll be pleasantly
surprised.”

Mrs. Weasley came bustling back in with her handbag under her arm, “Are you lot ready to
go?”

“We’re still going even though the Ministry thinks the break-in was a distraction for a larger
attack?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“We’ve had this Auror detail scheduled for nearly two months; we haven’t enough time to request
another. Now let’s go. It’s more comfortable to floo from the main fireplace,” Mrs. Weasley said,
leading the group out of the kitchen.

“I’ll take you to get something to eat in Diagon Alley, since we didn’t get anything here. It’s
on me,” Harry whispered to Hermione. “Are your parents coming with, Hermione?” He asked at a
conversational volume.

“No, I don’t think they should. They’ll probably have had their fill of magic today when they
hear about the attack on the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was the last of the group to come through the floo to the Leaky Cauldron. He surprised
himself by not falling, headfirst, out of the floo. He opened his eyes once he stopped spinning, to
find himself standing on the inside of the fireplace. He stepped out of the fire and thought,
‘Today really has been a phenomenal day.’

The twins quickly made excuses to get Harry and Hermione away from the rest of the group as they
headed toward the robes shop. George ushered them into Weasley Wizarding Wheezes then flipped the
open sign to closed.

“Verity,” Fred said to the blonde girl behind the counter, “we have some private business to
attend to. So, if you don‘t mind, take an extra long lunch,” The blonde nodded before heading back
to the staff room. “You two,” Fred pointed, “follow us.” The twins led Harry and Hermione into a
room neither of them had been during their previous visit to WWW. Inside the extensive, magically
enlarged room were, what Harry assumed to be, all the tools of the Weasley twins’ pranking machine.
They were led to the far wall where a small wardrobe stood.

“Harry, we know that you don’t like all the attention that comes with your fame,” Fred
began.

George continued on Fred’s train of thought, “So, we originally had this idea to help with
avoiding your celebrity image. But, after we heard how you went through Knockturn Alley last
summer, we realized the potential of our idea and set to work on it straight away.”

“At the very least, neither of you will have to claim to be Draco’s girlfriend ever again,” Fred
added.

“Now,” George said opening the doors of the wardrobe, revealing the two finest sets of robes
Harry had ever seen. Each of them were black with a sheen, which had Harry guessing that the robes
were silk. “The original plan was a cloak that impede on someone’s ability to identify you. But
these beautiful babies here, well these are just so much more interesting.”

“It took us quite a bit to get these how we wanted. They were the most difficult magic we’ve
done to date,” Fred informed them. “These are the pride of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.” Fred could
see the impatient look on Harry’s face and quickly remove the robes from the wardrobe.

“The only ones we’re going to make are for you or per your request. We won’t sell this idea, it
means too much to the protection of our family.”

“Well, thanks, Fred, that means a lot to us,” Hermione smiled at him. Fred nodded humbly, but
George who continued.

“There are charms on these robes to help you to go unnoticed and also assist with stealth. If
you keep completely still you will disappear entirely,” George waved his wand and conjured a
mannequin inside one set of robes. “First off, the hood. Wearing the hood up activates a partial
Disguising Charm. From here up,” Fred said, indicating with a finger, to a point between his nose
and mouth, “will be cast into shadow, but your eyes will show. It’s very intimidating.”

“Especially intimidating for you, Harry,” Hermione said, “your emotions always show tenfold in
your eyes.”

“You, too, Hermione. There’s nothing like female enraged,” Fred shuttered from his own
experiences. “Back to the robes. There are distraction and stealth charms that activate in the
appropriate situation. Also, when you’re out after dark or in the shadows, the only thing superior
to these is an invisibility cloak. You will all but disappear even while moving; it’s similar to
being disillusioned.” To say Harry was impressed would be a grand understatement.

“These are bloody fantastic. I didn’t know you could do these sorts of things to a set of robes.
We could get these made for the entire DA.”

Hermione turned sharply toward Harry. Looking confused, she whispered, “You’re starting the DA
again? I thought you said we weren’t going back.”

“I don’t intend on going back, I thought maybe we could hand reigns over to the next most
competent member. The students need to be prepared, right?”

“Absolutely, but I just never thought the DA would be something that you would try to start up
again, even from the outside. I always thought Neville and Luna would,” her counter was a valid
one. Neville and Luna were the most affected by the DA.

“Sorry to rain on your parade,” George interrupted, “but, there is one… issue with these. Now,
we don’t fully understand why this particular problem is there, but we do know that neither one of
you will be affected by it.”

Fred elaborated on George’s statement, “It seems the combination of spells used has caused the
robes to have trouble responding to only average-powered witches and wizards. So you can’t equip
all of the DA with these. We,” Fred indicated his twin and himself, “aren’t even powerful enough to
use them.”

“Surely that can’t be the case, I mean you made them. You used the magic that created them, you
should be powerful enough to make it work. That’s basic Arithmancy.”

“You think we don’t know that?” Fred asked. “As much as we can figure, the use of the magic is
basic application, which we were powerful enough to do. But, it seems that the spells we used have
never been used together in quite this way. The robes seem to be able to sense the raw magical
ability of someone,” Fred paused to let this information sink into Hermione’s brain. “That’s the
most we can figure. We know all this because, even though we can’t use them, Verity could. She’s
tiny, but she packs quite a wallop, magically speaking. Now she says that there was no detectable
energy drain, so I think this is a brain buster for Hermione to figure out.“

“Go ahead, try them on,” George said excitedly.

“I don’t think I’m powerful enough to make them work,” Hermione said quietly to Harry.

“Oh, bollocks, Hermione. You’re plenty powerful enough for these,” Harry told her
vehemently.

Hermione watched has he pulled on his robes and lifted the hood. Instantly the upper portion of
his face disappeared. She regarded him for a moment before he opened his eyes. He opened his eyes
to see Hermione flush as he watched her. He discern exactly why she had blushed, he was only
looking at her the way he normally did. What he found in her eyes nearly made him blush as well.
She was watching him with an intensity he had never seen from her.

“Whoa, Earth to Hermione,” one of the twins called, he watched her start, breaking their
connection. “I thought we lost you there for a moment.”

“Err, yes, well. I, uh, was just thinking how Harry looks like… like Batman,” stuttered and
Harry smiled.

“How could somebody be half bat?” the twins looked confusedly at one another.

“It’s a muggle thing, guys,” Harry explained, never taking his eyes off of Hermione’s own. “Go
ahead, Hermione, put yours on.” As she did, he took a moment to observe what he felt in the robes.
He recognized the magic working around him the way the twins had described, and just as Verity had
claimed, he couldn’t feel the magic draining him of energy.

Hermione finished slipping the robes on by pulling up her hood, immediately casting most her
face into shadow. “Wow,” she said, “I’ve never really felt magic before. The effects, sure, but
never the magic itself. It’s such an odd sensation.”

“See,” Harry said proudly, “you’re plenty powerful to work these.”

“We’ve got a few more ideas in the works, but that’ll have to wait until next time. You’ve got
to get back before Mum has a stroke,” George said, taking them to the door. “We’ve got our dress
robes already so we’re staying here.

Back out on Diagon Alley, Hermione spotted Ron and Ginny step out of Madam Malkin’s. She raised
her arm to wave them over automatically, but Harry reached out and pulled her arm down. “Don’t,” he
told her. He quickly flipped his hood up. “Let’s see how well the robes work. Remember, think about
not being seen.”

Without a second thought, Harry pulled Hermione to him so her back was tight against his front.
He leaned them into the shadows and against the brick wall of the shop a few doors down from Fred
and George‘s.

The sudden grip on his hand brought his attention to Hermione as Ron and Ginny grew nearer. “You
don’t have to be nervous,” he whispered into her ear.

“But, what if they see us, Harry, like this? They‘ll be furious. You saw how they reacted
earlier, it‘ll be so much worse if they see us this close.” Her eyes shone with her nervousness
from under her hood. Harry specifically noted that she never once objected to their current
position.

“They won’t,” with a smile, his reply was simple and decidedly firm. “Trust me.”

____________________

A/N: Inspiration: Shinedown’s *Stranger Inside*. First, I would like to apologize for the
font situation, I‘m working on it, but I‘ll probably need some help. So if any of you know why my
htm documents are saving with font parameters and you know how to fix it, please send me an email,
Thanks. Another thanks goes out to the reviewers, but don’t be afraid to include some suggestions
or anything you find wrong. I always want to become a better writer, so let me have it. ‘Til next
time… BEAR DOWN to all you Chicago fans out there.



4. Someday
----------

A/N: First of all, thank you for all the reviews last chapter, you guys are great. Now I’d like
to apologize for the lengthy delay in this post. I’m not one of those authors who will tell you
real life got in the way, I’ll let everyone know what’s been going on. I ended up scrapping all of
what I had written for the original chapter four and had to rewrite. Also this was my first and
last semester as an Architecture major. I’ve spent far too many hours in the prison they call the
architecture and planning building. That being said, my muse has been thoroughly sucked dry.

This week is Spring Break for me and for the next few days I’ll be basically bed-ridden after
having wisdom teeth pulled so I hope to put a dent into chapter five.

Also, if this chapter still refuses to change font styles and sizes I am officially requesting
some help there, I just can’t figure it out.

Beta offers are welcome as well.

Thanks again,

Yuke15

Disclaimer: I own none of this. I’m making no money from anything on this page. Any similarities
in this story to other authors’ stories are purely coincidental unless otherwise stated. These
characters belong to JK Rowling; I’m just playing with them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Someday**

“See, I told you,” Harry said as Ron and Ginny entered Fred and George’s. “Now before we get our
robes, I think I promised you something to eat.”

“I think I’ll take a rain check, Harry, if that’s alright. I’m not very hungry. We *did*
have a big breakfast,” Hermione explained.

“No, it’s no problem,” for a moment Hermione thought he sounded a little disappointed, but the
notion was quickly dismissed. “Is there anything else that you need before we head to Madam
Malkin’s?”

“Um… no, I don’t think so.”

“Alright, then let’s do this,” Harry stated.

Slowly, Harry and Hermione moved toward the robes shop, both hesitant to reenter the currently
tense atmosphere with the Weasleys. The luncheon fight with Mrs. Weasley was weighing heavily on
Harry’s mind as he fully realized what he had done. Granted, the reason for his outburst was a
justified one, in his mind, but losing his temper so quickly wasn’t going to serve him well in the
long run. He knew, now, that it was impossible to think clearly while in a towering rage. He must
master his temper.

In far too short a time, they were entering the robes shop, and Mrs. Weasley was calling Harry
over, “Harry, dear, may I have a word?”

“Now, Harry, about this morning—“

“I’m not apologizing,” Harry said defensively.

“Nor do you have to. I’m apologizing. I was wrong to jump to conclusions—“

“You should be apologizing to Hermione, not me,” Harry cut in again.

“I will, Harry, I will. But, next time could you please not yell at least, just tell me,
alright? I do have to keep up appearances to my own children; I can’t be bossed around all the
time.”

“I won’t yell if you don’t,” Harry stated. Mrs. Weasley bristled, but said nothing and directed
Harry toward an assistant helping with robes. Harry watched as Mrs. Weasley made her way toward
Hermione through the crowded shop. He smiled.

“Mr. Potter, I presume?” Harry turned toward the assistant addressing him.

“Yes Ma’am,” Harry replied politely. He watched as she looked him up and down.

“Well… I don’t think there is much this shop can do to best the robes you have on. You can go
into the back and have a seat with the rest who have finished with their fittings.

Harry did was he was asked to, and sat waiting for Hermione to finish being fitted. It seemed
the first to be fitted were all were those who were standing in the wedding, of which, Harry only
new Fleur’s sister, Gabrielle, and she was as shy as Ginny ever was. He had said hello, but
received only a blush and giggle in response. “Girls,” Harry muttered.

Far quicker than Harry could’ve hoped, Hermione entered the post-fitted sitting room. “That was
fast,” Harry observed aloud.

“Well I came prepared. I made I knew my measurements and what style of dress I wanted to get,”
Hermione told him. “How did you get done so quickly?”

“They told me that this set of robes was the best I could do,” Harry answered. “Now I wish I had
brought something to do; this is unbelievably boring.”

“You could always read with me,” Hermione suggested, while fishing a tiny book out the pockets
of her jeans beneath her robes.

“Wait, wait, wait. Let me guess, *Hogwarts: A History*, right?” He asked, before returning
the book to its original size with a wave of his hand.

“Yes, it is. Is that going to be a problem?” Hermione asked.

“Not in the slightest,” Harry answered without the slightest hesitation.

Hermione moved her chair closer to his and Harry put his arm along the back of hers as she
settled the book between them. “Comfortable,” she asked. He nodded as he inhaled deeply taking in
the pleasant mix of vintage parchment and the sweet vanilla of Hermione’s hair. *‘It’s nice to be
able to do these sorts of thing with,’* Harry thought after a few minutes. *‘Almost makes
reading fun.’*

The book, as it turned out, wasn’t a horrible read. He found it rather interesting, in fact.
*‘Not interesting enough for a second reading,’* he thought. But then again, the only books
worth reading more than once were Quidditch ones.

“What the *hell* is going on here?” Harry heard after fifteen minutes. Both Harry and
Hermione looked up to find Ron, standing in the doorway, looking on in disbelief, not anger.

“Reading,” Harry grunted, finding his place again.

“Is that…” Ron began.

“*Hogwarts: A History,* yes it is,” Hermione said. To Harry, she sounded quite smug about
the whole situation.

“What are *they* doing?” If Ron hadn’t been angry at what he found, Ginny certainly
was.

“Reading,” Ron repeated absently, “*Hogwarts: a History,*” he finished incredulously.

“Don’t you think that they’re a little too… *close*?” Ginny practically snarled at Ron.

Hermione sighed, exasperated. “This is neither the time, nor the place Ginny,” she stated. Ginny
looked murderous, but the glare she received from Harry silenced any retort Ginny may have had.
And, in response, Ginny stomped from the room in a huff.

“You are going to have to talk to her eventually, Harry,” Hermione told him. “I’m getting tired
of having to deal with her tantrums.” Harry only nodded in response.

Ron, who had suddenly grasped what Ginny was getting at, stalked to the furthest seat from the
pair, and proceeded to sulk for the rest of the afternoon, looking over at every few minutes.

They sat reading for nearly three more hours before Mrs. Weasley came to collect them for dinner
at the Leaky Cauldron. Mrs. Weasley obviously arranged for the twins to meet them, as they were
sitting in a large booth awaiting the rest.

Harry frowned when Ron quickly slipped into the seat next to Hermione, leaving only the seat
next to Ginny. When he sat, Ginny immediately shifted closer despite her sour mood. He tried to
make himself as small as possible, but with the limited space in the booth, failed
considerably.

Hermione grimaced slightly as she felt Ron do the same as Ginny, and then nonchalantly placed
his arm around her. “Stop it, Ron,” she hissed and shrugged his arm away.

“What?” Ron asked.

“You have got to be kidding me,” She watched him in disbelief.

“So now I can’t put my arm around my girl?” Ron asked.

“You’re an idiot, Ron,” She snarled. “I am not nor have I ever been your girl. I have, however,
been perfectly clear about the entire situation. Now, if you would be so kind, remove your arm from
me before I remove it from you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Harry, I need to talk to you,” Ron said a moment after they flooed back to Grimmauld Pla
ce.

Harry looked quizzically at Hermione, receiving a shrug, before responding, “Alright then.
Hermione, I’ll meet you in the library in my room. We’ve got a lot of research to do, and the books
there looked relevant.”

“Yeah, okay,” Hermione responded, heading up to the library as Ron lead Harry to the drawing
room.

Ron closed the drawing room door and silenced the room. “What’s up, Ron?”

“What do you think you’re doing, Harry?” Ron demanded.

Harry looked up at Ron while sitting down on the couch. “Sitting down?”

“First you’re trying to steal Hermione from me and now you’re flaunting your money all over the
place. Don’t think I didn’t notice the new robes you bought for the two of you *before* you
got the Madam Malkin’s.” Ron’s ears now a bright, scarlet red.

“Firstly, I’ve never, nor will I ever, flaunt my money. And these robes were a gift from your
brothers. Secondly, Hermione would have to have been yours in the first place, as if she was some
possession, and I am most certainly would not trying to steal her. *And* you‘d be missing your
bits if she ever hears you say something like that about her.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Harry. You don’t think everyone can see the way you look at her,
or how she looks at you, give me a break,” the flush covering more of his face now.

“There’s nothing going on, Ron. I’m telling you the truth,” Harry told him, looking him square
in the eye.

“I don’t know what’s worse: the betrayal or that you keep lying to me when it’s painfully
obvious what the truth is. After all we’ve been through, you’ve stolen the one thing I ever really
wanted,” the anger suddenly gone from Ron’s voice.

“I’m not lying to you, it’s the truth. I can’t help it if you don’t believe me, I’m sorry.”
Harry stood and moved to the door, but Ron spoke again and it halted Harry in his tracks.

“You don’t deserve to be my friend, Harry, neither of you do,” Ron said, sounding more sad, now,
than anything else.

“You know what?” Harry growled, straining to keep from shouting. He was truly angry now. “The
only person not deserving of a friendship is you. But for some reason Hermione still thinks you
deserve it. It amazes me how forgiving she is of you after all the shit you put her through. You’re
supposed to be her friend, but you don’t act like it.

“You try to blame everything, and everybody else for what you don’t have. You don’t have any
money, you won’t get a job to help out at home or for a few pocket Galleons; I get it, it’s my
fault because I was left money by my dead parents and their dead best friend. You don’t have a
girlfriend, but you’re an asshole to the girls you have an opportunity with; I get it, my fault
again because I give Hermione the respect and treatment she deserves. You’re just pathetic. How
about you accept some responsibility for yourself?” Ron had no response. Harry slammed the door on
the way out and joined Hermione for what looked to be long night of horcrux research in the Master
Bedroom’s library.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry paused at the door, leaning against the frame. He watched, silently, as Hermione sat
curled up on the couch in front of a comfortable fire, large tome in her lap, and roll of parchment
on the couch arm waiting for notes to be taken. She looked so… so… so like the Hermione of old. It
had been so long since he had seen her this way, and it truly saddened him. What ever had happened
last year between the three of them, Hermione had been the most noticeably affected.

To see Hermione doing what she did best, to see her in her element, and free of the stress and
tension of conflicts of the previous year, warmed his heart. Just by watching her, no one would
ever guess she was researching the most evil creation any wizard had come up with. The glow of the
fire reflecting softly off her now less frizzy hair gave Hermione an angelic aura around her. Harry
found this, too, also warmed his heart.

“You know, it isn’t polite to stare,” Hermione addressed him, not once turning to see him
standing silently.

“I was just thinking,” Harry told her, sitting next to her on the couch.

“Bout what?” Hermione asked, still not looking up from her book.

“Just about how good it feels to have back the Hermione that’s my best friend. And that your
hair is different,” He added in afterthought.

“Well thank you for noticing, Harry.”

“Are you changing it? With a charm or something?”

“I’m using a different shampoo. Why?” She asked, frowning.

“It’s nothing, really,” he said, he could tell she didn’t believe him just by the look in her
eyes.

“You know I don’t fall for that, now what is it?”

“I just wanted to know if you were changing your hair with magic,” Harry lied. Again, Hermione
knew and he saw hurt flash through her eyes, causing him to cave.

“Alright,” he said firmer than he had meant and she started. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, before
continuing hesitantly. “I just… What I meant was… I er liked… I liked your hair the way it was
before, and I don’t think you needed to change it.”

“How, in Merlin’s name, could you like that bird’s nest?” She asked honestly.

Harry squirmed a bit, suddenly feeling an extra pressure on his answer, like his answer would
have some underlying meaning. He panicked, this felt like the exam he hadn’t studied for. “Well,
erm, your hair was so you, quintessential Hermione. And it wasn’t that bad… most days,” she giggled
at this*. ‘Giggling is a good sign, right?’*

“That’s very sweet of you, Harry. But it really was that bad. Out of control really, I had to do
something,” She said matter-of-factly, and with a hint of a blush to her cheeks.

“So what did Ron want?” Harry noted the quick subject change.

“Well, first off, he accused me of trying to steal you. Then, he said I was flaunting my money
buying you these new robes,” Harry said, not angry any longer about this portion of their fight.
“Worst off he said we weren’t deserving of his friendship. I was so angry, so enraged. I said some
things I never thought I would say to him,” Harry said sadly. Gone was giggling, blushing Hermione,
now the brow-furrowed, bottom-lip-between-her-teeth, worried-beyond-belief Hermione dominated the
situation. “But he said things I never thought he’d say either.”

“What if he never comes around, if he always thinks that’s really what happened?”

“I don’ know, Mione, I don’t know.”

Harry stared into to the fire after making his last statement, thinking of the possibility that
his and Ron’s once solid friendship was now over for good. After a few more minutes, he felt
Hermione’s eyes finally leave him and, he assumed, returned to whichever book she was searching.
Harry was unsure of how long he sat unmoving, the duration marked only by the periodic sounds of
Hermione closing books and opening others in her attempts to find relative Horcrux information. He
noticed absently that the snaps of the books closing became louder and sharper.

“You would think there would be some mention of Horcruxes in this house considering how evil the
Blacks were!” Hermione exclaimed. Her eyes suddenly went wide when she realized what she had said.
“I’m sorry, Harry, I meant most of the Blacks were evil. I would never say anything like that about
Sirius.”

“It’s alright, Hermione,” Harry held up a hand to stop her apologizing. “I know you wouldn’t say
anything like that on purpose.”

“I’m just frustrated, that’s all,” she told him. “I mean, where else but here could we find any
real information about Horcruxes?”

“Malfoy Manor?” Harry offered only half jokingly.

“Hermione, could we talk to you for a moment?” a deep voice sounded from the open doorway after
a quick knock. Two middle-aged figures, who Harry knew to be Hermione’s parents, stood at the door
looking grief-stricken.

“What is it? What’s happened?” Hermione worried while gesturing her parents into the room.

“We want to apologize to you, for not believing how serious you were, sweetheart,” Mrs. Granger
said solemnly.

Hermione immediately looked relieved, but relief quickly turned to confusion when she thought
more on her mother’s statement. “Wait… what are you talking about?”

“We didn’t believe we were in all that much danger. We hadn’t really wanted to leave our home.
It’s truly sunk in now how dire the situation is,” Mrs. Granger exhaled slowly, trying to keep her
emotions in check.

“We can only hope the worst you experience is a failed raid of a house,” Hermione said with an
air of not really believing what she was saying. “Well, at least now we can go back and make sure
we’ve got all of our valuables.”

Mrs. Granger’s eyes welled and Mr. Granger’s were trained on the floor when he spoke, his voice
low and defeated, “There is nothing left. They destroyed everything. The Order told us they
searched the house and took anything they considered valuable before torching the entire property.
We can never go back to our home.”

“Everything?” Hermione asked, her eyes filling with tears. Her mother nodded, tears now
streaming.

Harry could sympathize with the way Hermione and her family were feeling. He, too, would start
to feel overwhelmed when he thought on Godric’s Hollow for too long, and he had never really known
the place, it was never his home.

His heart broke for Hermione as he heard her begin to sob. He could only guess how much more
this hurt her; this was her childhood, her entire life, whereas he had never known a proper
home.

Harry was stunned to find Hermione sobbing into his chest with her arms wrapped tightly around
him. He hesitated, glancing at her confused parents. He could understand their confusion, at least,
this was a family tragedy, it made no sense to them for Hermione to turn to Harry for comfort.

His hesitation lasted for only a moment before his instincts took over and his attention
returned to his best friend. Harry gently turned and pulled Hermione closer to him so she was now
sitting on his leg with her face buried in his neck. “Shh, Mione,” He whispered in her ear so only
she could hear. “I’ve got you. I want you to listen to me, okay? Can you do that?” he asked
soothingly, she answered with a little nod into his neck. “You should feel incredibly proud right
now. You saved your parents lives when you brought them here. I know it hurts to lose your home,
but when it comes down to it, what you lost today were only possessions. You’ve got the most
important part of your home standing right here in this room. All the other things are
replaceable.
Thank you, Harry,” she sniffed, drying her eyes. “I just got a bit overwhelmed. I’m sorry for
crying all over you.”

“Oh I don’t mind,” Harry said with a cheeky little smile. “Just as long as you’re alright.”

It was then that Harry did something he had never done before. Hermione was completely shocked
as he pulled back from placing a soft, gentle kiss in the middle of her forehead. She stared into
his eyes as her stomach flipped in excitement. Somewhere in he recesses of her mind, she realized
that Harry was speaking to her again and she had now idea what he was saying.

“Wha?” Hermione could have slapped herself for sounding so dazed.

“I was just asking if you really *were* alright. I thought I lost you again there for a
minute.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” She said still trying to stop the blush rising from her chest before it
reached her face.

“I KNEW IT!” A shout came from the hall.

“Oh damn,” Harry cursed, before waving his hand causing the door to slam in the enraged face of
Ginny Weasley. “I think I ought to deal with this now, Mione. Talk to your parents.”

If she didn’t know how ugly this situation could get, Hermione would have laughed at the
expression on Harry’s face as he moved to the door.

“Wish me luck,” he said simply before quickly slipping through the door. Hermione heard the
beginnings of a shout just before the door snapped closed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the hell is your problem, Harry?!” Ginny’s voice was just short of a full out scream.
“We’re supposed to be together. So why are you letting *her* sit in your lap?”

“We are not together, Ginny,” Harry said firmly.

“Nonsense,” Ginny waved off his statement. Harry could see Mrs. Weasley do the same thing. “Now
stop avoiding the question.”

“For your information, Ginny, Hermione had just found out how bad the attack on her home was and
I was acting like a best friend should. And I don’t think I’m the one doing the avoiding here,”
Harry’s tone had more than a little bite to it. “We,” he said pointing between himself and Ginny,
“are not together. I broke up with you and that decision still stands. We aren’t getting back
together.”

“I don’t understand, Harry. Everything was fine. Everything was perfect. I love you. Please,
Harry, tell me what I did wrong. I can change, I promise,” this rapid shift from anger to her
begging was very disconcerting.

“Our relationship was never fine,” Harry made his voice softer to adjust to Ginny’s change. “You
don’t love me, Ginny. The reasons why you think you love me are wrong. I’m not the Boy-Who-Lived.
I’m not some super hero from your dreams. I’m the muggle-raised, Gryffindor seeker Harry Potter.
You don’t even know who I am.

“That’s not--.”

“It is true, Ginny. I knew from the beginning that that was how you saw me. Since Ron told me
that you couldn’t stop talking about me, really. But I thought if you had time to get older and get
to know me. I tried to make a place for you in my heart. But maybe it was my fault since the
beginning. I could have failed you. But maybe you just never took the time to know me. I’m not
really sure what happened, but I do know that what you told me at the funeral proved it. I don’t
think anyone can be happy when they’re fighting for their lives, and the lives of the whole
world.”

“You’ve been talking to Hermione about our problems, haven’t you?” Ginny’s anger returned with
full force.

“What?!” Harry asked indignantly. “No! Of course I haven’t.”

“Don’t you lie to me. You share everything with your precious Hermione.”

“Whether I have or not, it really isn’t any of your concern. Talking is something best friends
do, if you didn’t know,” Ginny really knew how to hit a nerve.

“Well I do know that no girl is going to be happy with you as long as you don’t start distancing
yourself from Hermione.

“She’ll just have to deal with it because there is no way I’d choose another girl over
Hermione!” Harry barked before spinning and once again slamming the bedroom door in Ginny’s
face.

On the other side of said door, a sudden silence filled the room. Hermione and her parents were
sitting closely together on a couch where he gestured to them to continue their conversation as he
grabbed a book he had no intention of reading and crossed to the opposite end of the room.

He sat with the open book in his lap, his mind reeling at the realization he had just made. With
one simple, instinctual, responsive statement a chord was struck deep within Harry’s mind turning
his whole world on end. Not only did he have deep-rooted feelings for Hermione Granger, he was, in
fact, deeply in love with her, and he had no idea what to do about it.



5. Fly From the Inside
----------------------

Disclaimer: I own none of this. I’m making no money from anything on this page. Any similarities
in this story to other authors’ stories are purely coincidental unless otherwise stated. These
characters belong to JK Rowling; I’m just playing with them.

The otherwise stated part: Hermione’s parents, or at least their names, are credited to
MissAnnThropic and the wonderful world that is Vox Corporis. Or, as she is tickled to read, the
Voxiverse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*“Here’s the weight of the world on my shoulders*

*Here’s the weight of the world on my shoulders*

*On my shoulders*

*All alone I pierce the chain*

*And on and on the sting remains*

*And dying eyes consume me now*

*The voice inside screams out loud*

*I am focused on what I am after*

*The key to the next open chapter*

*Cause I found a way to steal the sun from the sky*

*Long live that day that I decided to fly from the inside*

*Every day a new deception*

*Pick your scene and take direction*

*And on and on I search to connect*

*But I don't wear a mask and I have no regrets*

*I am focused on what I am after*

*The key to the next open chapter*

*Cause I found a way to steal the sun from the sky*

*Long live that day that I decided to fly from the inside…”*

http://youtube.com/watch?v=_EFZAfwx7rc

Fly From the Inside

Sunday, 29 July

“I do,” Bill Weasley had a huge smile plastered on his face as he looked down at his beautiful
wife.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you Man and Wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Harry smiled as he observed the scene unfolding before him. All around, dozens upon dozens of
witches and wizards cheered and applauded the union of two of the most loving and caring people
Harry knew. For the rest of his life, it would always amaze him that in this desolate time people
still had room in their hearts to celebrate love. It gave Harry a bit of hope that maybe this time
around Voldemort wouldn’t cast as large a shadow as he once did.

Harry knew, however, that this event would be a prime time for Voldemort to strike, and as happy
as he was, he felt a bit like Mad-Eye. Harry supposed that was a major point as to why the
Delacours were so insistent that the wedding happen deep within the Ministry of Magic itself.

While the Ministry’s grandest ballroom was decorated as intricately as Hogwarts had been for the
Yule Ball, but as a summer garden of course, it still wasn’t the Burrow. Harry could see it in the
faces of all the Weasleys, when they first saw the ballroom; they all felt the same as he.

The crowd’s laughter pulled Harry from his thoughts, after everyone made their way to the
reception area. Harry looked around to find the reason for the laughter; Fred and George were
good-naturedly attempting to steal the first dance with Fleur. He could see Ron, butterbeer in
hand, standing and laughing with a few of his seldom seen cousins. Harry’s gaze traveled over to
Charlie and Ginny, both looking on with a somewhat wistfully at the tears of joy in there mother’s
eyes and the immense pride radiating off Arthur. And it seemed, even with their recent fighting,
Ron and Ginny had forgotten there anger, if only for the day.

After a few minutes of watching the newlyweds dance, Harry felt Hermione arrive at his side.
“It’s amazing isn’t it?” She pondered aloud. “I mean, even now…”

“Yeah, I know, I was just thinking the same,” he agreed simply. His stomach flipped at her touch
as she hooked her arm through his. When he turned to see her face, he noted that she had been
crying and was watching the now many dancing couples wistfully. “Would you like to dance?”

She turned to him with a thoroughly surprised expression on her face. “Oh. You don’t have to do
that, Harry. I know you don’t like to dance.”

“That isn’t what I asked, Mione. Never mind what I like. Would *you* like to dance?” Harry
asked sincerely.

“Well… sort of… yes.”

“Come on then, before I change my mind,” He replied leading her onto the dance floor. As he took
her hand and pulled he closer, he whispered cheekily, “Try not to trod on my feet, I don’t like
that much.”

“Ha ha, you’re hysterical,” she replied dryly, but with laughter in her eyes.

As they began their dance, Harry caught a glimpse of Ginny watching them, looking betrayed and
jealous. Harry somehow knew their most recent fight would be the last time he would see the
uncharacteristic begging and pleading from Ginny, and that her pride would not allow her to
approach him today. He was glad for this and his concentration went back to Hermione so he could
enjoy their dance.

Harry became lost in her. In her beauty. She was especially beautiful today. Her eyes, her hair,
her scent, her dress. Merlin did she look good in that dress. It was nothing extravagant. Just a
simple black dress, with thin straps and ended a few inches above her knee. He knew that a dress
like this had to be in the closet of every woman on the planet. But it looked amazing on her. He
supposed it was the fact that Hermione rarely showed this side of herself and that it suited her
quite well. She must lead some double life away from Hogwarts to be so surprisingly graceful in her
high heels, as this was only the second time he had ever seen her in a pair. He had never really
realized how incredibly sexy a pair of high heels were until that moment. He wasn’t even one of
those queer blokes that fancy a woman’s feet, just the thought was almost enough to make him
cringe. But heels, yes there was something about them. Before long, he caught himself daydreaming
about different outfits she could, and then, possibly, wouldn’t be wearing with a pair of amazing
heels.

Then there was her skin. It was her skin that pushed him over the edge. There was so much of it
viewable today that he had only seen once before at the Yule Ball. He found it didn’t have near the
effect on the clueless fourteen year old that it did the in-love, nearly-seventeen year old.

“You look beautiful, Hermione,” Harry said softly, blushing to the tips of his ears as he
realized he had said it aloud.

“Thank you, Harry,” She responded with a blush of her own. Yet, even with her blush, he still
got the distinct impression that she didn’t really believe him.

“Really, Hermione, you do.”

“I know, Harry, I heard you,” she responded. Now he knew she was brushing off his compliment in
disbelief.

“Why do you do that, Hermione?”

“Do what?”

“Act like you don’t believe me when I say that I think you look beautiful.”

“Because you don’t really mean it, that’s just what guys say when girls get dressed up, right?
‘You *look* beautiful.’ I mean, nothing about me has changed, I’m still just Hermione
Granger,” she replied and Harry knew this is how she honestly felt.

“Do you think that was just some line?” The look on her face made it obvious; that *was*
what she thought. “How could you think--”

“Harry, sorry to interrupt, but could I speak with you?” Mr. Weasley placed a hand on Harry’s
shoulder cutting off his defense.

“Sure, Mr. Weasley, I’ll be right there,” Harry said before turning back to Hermione. “I
wouldn’t say something to you that I didn’t mean,” then he turned to follow Mr. Weasley, leaving
Hermione to contemplate what he had just stated.

“What is it Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked after sitting next to the kind wizard at one of the many
tables in the ballroom.

“I know your birthday is coming up on Tuesday, so I went ahead and scheduled you for your
Apparition test. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, not at all Mr. Weasley. I really had forgotten about it. What about Ron, doesn’t he
need to take the test still?”

“He already passed. He decided to take it alone, he didn’t want to be embarrassed if he failed
again,” he said with a small smile, and after a moment of quiet deliberation, he continued. “Harry,
I think that you should visit Gringotts after the test. I know that when wizards come of age they
tend to have more responsibilities regarding their families in a more formal, financial, and
official sense. But, all things considered, I believe you will have much more to become aware of.
After all, you are the Head of you family now and I think it would be wise to go over, with the
Goblins, everything that they can think of.”

“Okay, I will, if you think it’s a good idea.”

“I do,” Mr. Weasley said. “And your test is at 9:30 am, on Tuesday. You’ll have to floo to the
Ministry yourself; I’ll only have enough time to show you to the correct office from the
Atrium.”

“Thanks, Mr. Weasley.” Harry received a nod as Mr. Weasley re-entered the crowd.

“Is everything alright, Harry?” Hermione asked as she came up behind him.

“Yeah. Mr. Weasley was just letting me know that I’m scheduled for my Apparition test on Tuesday
and that I should go to Gringotts.”

“I’m sorry about before, Harry,” Hermione said quickly with a sudden nervousness. “I should have
believed you.”

“That’s alright; you just have to stop thinking that everyone is being fake with you.”

“I know, it’s just hard when you’ve really only been ridiculed by people growing up,” she said
quietly as she sat down next to him.

Harry’s lips upturned into a small, sad smile as he placed a comforting arm around the beauty
next to him, “Don’t I know it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday, 31 July, 12:30 pm

“So?” Hermione asked, impatiently as Harry stepped out of the floo in the sitting room of Number
12.

“I, uh… I passed,” Harry said, completely distracted, his face a mixture of confusion and deep
thought.

“What’s wrong, Harry?”

“I… He… I don’t… He couldn’t have…” She could see him struggling to put a thought together.

“That isn’t much of an explanation, Harry.” She couldn’t help but to find a little humor at
Harry, but that would quickly dry up.

“Well, here, read it for yourself,” Harry told her, reaching into his robes and handing her an
old, yellowed roll of parchment. The only notation on the scroll was on instruction: *Do not open
until seventeenth birthday.* She didn’t recognize the handwriting as belonging to someone they
knew and cast a questioning glance at Harry. “Just read it.”

*Mr. Potter,*

*It is with great regret that I write this letter to you. I hope not to be the bearer of bad
news, but I find myself compelled to inform you of the destiny that Fate has so unjustly dealt you.
It has come to my knowledge that a prophecy has foretold great things of you, Mr. Potter. You must
do great things, for you will be the equal of the Dark Lord.*

*I write this letter to you now, knowing that in two night’s time, I will be forced to
accompany a group of Death Eaters to the residence of Frank and Alice Longbottom and I fear that I
will not have another opportunity to warn you. I pray that we are detected quickly enough to
prevent serious damage to the Longbottoms. If we are not caught, I will return here, to Malfoy
Manor, to await my death. I was never one of the Dark Lord’s favorites, for very good reason, and
those close to him do not care for my presence to say the least. So in being caught, there is the
slightest hope of my survival. I would be in the hands of the Ministry of Magic, more specifically,
my father, this is where the expression slim-to-none would describe the chance if have of escaping
all punishment. But even the slightest hope is better than certain death. I will rely on my acting
skills to, hopefully, sway my father, or at least my mother who will convince my father.*

*The Longbottoms will be attacked because, not only are they Aurors who might have caught wind
of the Dark Lords whereabouts, but the Dark Lord’s source within the Ministry reports that Alice is
your Godmother. She and her husband are to be your guardians, adoptive parents it would seem, after
the attack Sirius Black made upon Peter Pettigrew earlier this afternoon.*

*The beginnings of my tale aren’t as important to you as they would be to some others, so I
shall not include them. All I will tell you is that I, despite my current situation, do not support
the Dark Lord. Though, I have been forced to commit acts to ensure my cover is not blown. But on
the other hand, I have not aligned myself with Dumbledore, or his Order. I have helped as many of
the Order as I can, I have personally helped both your parents, and the Longbottoms escape with
their lives at times. But what truly matters is what I have uncovered in my time amongst the Death
Eaters.*

*The secret to the Dark Lord’s quest for immortality and his inhuman form is Horcruxes. They
are the vilest manifestation of evil known to man and wizard alike. They are formed by the
separation of part of a soul from the host body into a container. The only way a Horcrux can be
formed is by committing premeditated murder after completing the appropriate rituals and enabling
them at the correct moment just before the murder. A Horcrux, in theory, is only to be done once.
The Dark Lord has done this four times to my knowledge, and I believe he was still searching for
adequate containers when he lost his body during the attack on you. With the Dark Lord’s vast
knowledge, it is only a matter of time before he returns.*

*Salazar Slytherin’s locket, Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, his grandfather’s family ring, and his
personal diary are the four items I have deduced to be Horcruxes. However, I have only been able to
destroy one of these items. The locket. There is no need for you to search for the locket any
longer, I have seen to its destruction.*

*I feel much guilt for the way that I needed to handle the situation, but I always force
myself to recognize what must be done, regardless the consequences. I cannot say it is for the
greater good. The greater good only exists when one is making personal sacrifices, not sacrificing
others in their stead, which is what I am forced to do.*

*All this brings me to where it becomes important to you. Your godfather’s brother, Regulus
Arcturus Black, is the man I framed for stealing the Dark Lord’s horcrux. I take what little solace
I can in the fact that he was truly evil, but too much of a coward to do the things required to
serve the Dark Lord. He was trying to worm his way out of service, and face first into a killing
curse. He would have been killed with or without my set-up.*

*I apologize to you for not being able to complete the task that I had set out to accomplish.
I wish and pray for only the best for you in your own attempt to complete this duty to both wizard
and mankind.*

*Sincerely,*

*Bartemius Crouch, Jr.*

“But that just isn’t possible,” Hermione said in as shocked voice.

“I’m as shocked has you are,” Harry responded, “but do you think he made it all up, and it
miraculously came true? Horcruxes and all?”

“Well, then how do you explain the whole helping-bring-Voldemort-back part, and the
him-trying-to-kill-you part?”

“There could be a bunch of explanations, Hermione. He could have gone insane in Azkaban, or if
he didn’t lose his mind he could have been under the Imperious because his mind had been weakened
in there,” Harry suggested.

“Sirius didn’t lose his mind or become weakened because of it.”

“Sirius was escaping into his animagus form to help, remember?”

All the wind in her sails seemed to disappear, “Oh, yeah. So… what now?”

“Well, he says that the locket has already been destroyed, but he doesn’t say how he did it. I
just assumed it was by physically altering the object, like the cracked stone in the ring and
stabbing the diary. But then again he only knew of four Horcruxes, Dumbledore thought there were
six?”

“I don’t think Voldemort told him about the first four, maybe he just didn’t find out about the
last two. Or he could have made them after he regained his body. I’m beginning to think that Nagini
isn’t one after all. Why would he put a piece of his soul into something that could die, no matter
how long it’s supposed to live? I mean look how long a Basilisk is supposed to live, and a twelve
year old killed it.”

“Harry! What if the Basilisk was one? That would explain why Crouch wouldn’t have known. I’m
sure Voldemort wouldn’t have boasted about that to anyone but his most loyal, maybe not even them.
And he wouldn’t have been able to know that anyone could speak parsletongue to even get into the
Chamber of Secrets let alone kill the thing.

“It wasn’t a Horcrux,” Harry said simply, but had to continue at Hermione’s ‘how do *you*
know’ look. “First of all, Voldemort didn’t kill Myrtle, the Basilisk did, and she was the only
death that year that could have had the Basilisk near enough to use as a container. Plus there was
no screaming other than the Basilisk’s.”

“Oh,” she said, a thoughtful look on her face as she thought through his reasoning. “Yes, of
course.

“So what’s our next step, then?” Hermione asked, moving to the nearest armchair and dropping
into it.

She watched as Harry crossed the room and sunk into the chair closest to her, resting his elbows
on his knees, his face buried in his hands. He sat silent for a long moment coming to his decision.
While he sat, she noticed the family ring on his right hand. She was quite surprised to see him
actually wearing it, most Heads, such as Mr. Weasley, Sirius and Professor Dumbledore simply kept
them where they could be retrieved relatively quickly.

Harry took a deep breath and sat back in his chair, “It’s time to leave.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow, during the Order meeting.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit of a risk, with all of them here? We could be caught rather
easily.”

“We could, but I’m not too worried about that. Besides, with all of them here, there will be
nobody out there to send word to that we’ve run. It’ll give us time to get where we’re going. The
Order will be a step behind us the entire time.”

“Where exactly are we going?” She asked, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.

“Godric’s Hollow, but not the house. We have to give the Order enough time to search for us
there. We’ll stay at the inn for the night. I’m sure that Lupin will insist that the hollow is the
first place I’d want to go.”


“He’d be right.”

“Unfortunately.”

“We’ll need to start packing, then. But only the things that won’t go noticed by anyone that
might walk past our rooms between now and tomorrow night. That way it won’t look as though we’re
going anywhere,” Hermione explained.

“Well, I never really unpacked to begin with. I’ve been waiting to leave, and everyone seems to
be avoiding my room, anyway,” Harry shrugged, acting as if he hadn’t any idea why.

The time after lunch was spent quietly organizing the things that Hermione would need to bring
with and packing away as much as they could while still remaining inconspicuous. They packed all
the relevant books they could, most of which came from the master bed’s own collection as well as
nearly all of her clothes. As they stood back and observed what they had done, it only looked as if
Hermione had simple tidied up her room, something she was well know for doing from time to
time.

“Where are you going?”

Hermione jumped, “Sweet Merlin, Mum,” she could feel her heart racing from the fright her mother
just gave her. “What did you ask?”

“Your mum wants to know where we’re going?” Harry answered instead, a slight smirk on his face
at her being scared.

“I’m not going anywhere,” She replied defensively, “I’m just reorganizing a bit.”

“Don’t you give me that, Hermione Jane! You packed away your books, you’re going somewhere!” Her
mother accused. Hermione glanced at Harry; he was regarding her mother carefully. Without even
looking, Harry felt Hermione’s gaze and nodded slightly, indicating that he was fine with her
parents knowing.

“Okay, go get Dad,” Hermione resigned. When her mother returned, father in tow, Hermione quickly
beckoned them to sit on her bed as Harry waved his hand at the door, which closed and sealed with a
squelch.

“Harry these are my parents, Miranda and Jake. Mum, Dad, this is Harry Potter,” Hermione
introduced them.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you after hearing so many good things,” Mrs. Granger said
warmly as she approached Harry, who reached to shake her hand politely, but found himself trapped
in a strong hug. Harry noticed Mr. Granger over her shoulder, he was stone-faced giving no
indication that he was going to say anything.

“We’re leaving to finish what Professor Dumbledore started,” Harry stated after he pulled away
from Mrs. Granger. “And no one can find out that we’re leaving until we’re gone. I hope that we can
trust you two with that.”

“We will do our best,” was Mrs. Granger’s sincere reply. “But could you tell us the story, at
least, why it has to be you?”

Harry nodded slowly and took a moment before he began. “It really all started nearly six months
before I was born. A woman who would become our Divination professor gave a prophecy to our
headmaster…” Harry launched into the tale avoiding as many specifics and names as he could,
finishing with the information an ‘unknown source’ had left in his vault.

“So the weight of the world really is on your shoulders,” Mr. Granger stated, rather than
questioned. And as if that marked an end to the conversation, they began to move about the room,
her parents now helping with the packing.

When Hermione and Miranda left the room to put a pile of Hermione’s books that wouldn’t fit in
her own trunk into Harry’s, Jake stopped packing and sat on the bed. “I do have one question for
you, Harry. Why is my little girl going along?”

“I can’t seem to get rid of her,” Harry said with a small smile, thinking of the moment just
after Dumbledore’s funeral. “I’ve tried to talk her out of it, but she’s having none of it.”

Mr. Granger nodded in resignation, “As long as you tried, I know you can’t force Hermione to do
anything she doesn’t want to. Just… take care of her for me. She may be a young woman now, but
she’s still my little girl.” Harry just nodded his understanding. He was moved when Jake stood once
again, looked him square in the eye, and extended his hand to Harry. The women returned just after
the men ended their shake.

As they ended up side by side once more that night, Harry reached over and took Hermione’s hand
for a moment squeezing it slightly, thanking her again, in his head, for being there with him. She
looked at him peculiarly with a smile on her face, but didn’t say anything, only squeezed his hand
in return. In fact, there wasn’t much more conversation at all as the Grangers helped Hermione pack
the rest of her things. Eventually all four drifted off to bed. Two with a nervous anticipation
about the following afternoon and two dreading every second that ticked by knowing that it could be
the last they ever spend with the young woman, whom, it seemed, only yesterday was their baby
girl.

A/N: Inspiration: Shinedown’s Fly From the Inside. Seriously, go check it out.