Part VI
For Disclaimers and author's notes, see Part I. Thanks for all of your lovely reviews; keep them coming!
Harry slept particularly well the night after finally discussing Sirius with Hermione. He used the potion from Professor Snape as he had been doing, but his thoughts as he was drifting off had been more pleasant than those he'd had any previous night of the summer.
When he awoke the next morning, he felt the familiar sensation of eagerness for it to be midnight again, but he was also greeted by a whiff of Jack's Hermione scent, so he smiled rather than grimaced at the interminable hours until he could call her again.
He spent part of the day cleaning his room so Aunt Petunia would have no reason to lecture him about cleanliness. Ever since Hagrid's accidental revelation, Harry'd been trying to help his aunt maintain the perfect order she so craved. He thought she was nutters, of course, but he still sympathized with her twisted, tiny little life. Also, he'd found that being sequestered at Privet Drive was less intolerable when Auntie Petunia was happy and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to avoid slipping his newfound knowledge in if he were to get into another row with her - or even Dudley for that matter.
Once his room was in the pumpkin-pie order that satisfied his persnickety aunt (well, as long as she didn't look under his bed) he dove into his Summer term homework. Knowing what classes he'd be in for sure - and heeding Professor McGonagall's threat, er, warning - he wanted to be sure that he'd be prepared when he got to go back to Hogwarts. There were only he noted, checking his long-neglected homework planner for the count, forty days until he got to take the 11 am scarlet steam engine from Platform 9¾.
Harry naturally picked revising his Transfiguration essay as his first task. He wanted to be sure not to disappoint the professor after her encouragement to him about pursuing the Auror career path. He wondered idly whether Hermione's years of making study schedules for their final exams was finally paying off.
The afternoon flew by, and soon he was sitting down to tea with the Dursleys. Since Dudley was 'off with one of his mates,' Harry found digestion somewhat easier. He suspected that his cousin was actually off snogging Jessamyn, but what he didn't tell couldn't hurt him. It was easier to get through with occasional nods at Uncle Vernon's interminable Grunnings stories than it was to listen to hypocritical Dudley spout off Ludmilla's latest summer sports accomplishments. Now that he spent a little more care noticing her, it seemed that Aunt Petunia mostly just nodded along as well. He wondered privately how many years ago she'd stopped listening to them.
After the pudding, Harry volunteered to do the washing up. Uncle Vernon gave him a piercing look, but allowed him to do so and went off to the den for his evening telly. Aunt Petunia puttered around, storing the remaining pudding in the refrigerator for later. Since it was chocolate cake - the fruit garnish was the only concession to the eating healthy kick they were all supposed to be on "for Dudder's sake" - Harry guessed that it would all disappear before breakfast. Well, all except for the fruit garnish.
Having done his bit to preserve his peace for the night, Harry returned to his room with the bits of food he'd smuggled for Hedwig (his real motivation for the washing up). She greeted him affectionately and dove into her treats while he settled in for the less-than-pleasant task of revising Potions.
After an hour of toil, he drifted off and only woke when Hedwig pecked him to alert him that his alarm was going off. He gulped, turned it off, and released her to do her night's hunting. Then he made his way down to the washroom to grab the phone for the night.
Harry'd just made it into the washroom without being spotted when he heard rustling in the kitchen. Bloody Dudley! Now he'd have to stay hidden in here until he heard his cousin go back upstairs or risk getting caught and having another go-round over re-negotiating their mutual silence pact. A few painful minutes ticked by before he finally heard Dudley lumbering past the washroom door and up the stairs. They squeaked loudly, but Harry was confident it wouldn't wake his Aunt and Uncle. Since Dudley'd been sneaking food every night since the first day he could reach the fridge's handle and they'd somehow managed to ignore his ballooning, he doubted that a nighttime stroll would get either of them caught.
"There's a first time for everything, though," a little voice in his head warned. So as soon as he heard Dudley's door thump shut, he secreted the receiver under his shirt, darted out of the washroom, and climbed the stairs with practiced caution so he missed all the tell-tale squeaks. Once inside his room he clicked his door closed and dove into bed. His fingers tapped out Hermione's number without a conscious effort.
Hermione's usual, "Hello?" was music to his nervous ears.
"Sorry," he whispered, gasping slightly, "I fell asleep over potions and forgot to get the phone and Dudley almost caught me with it. That would've made me a lot later."
"Oh," replied Hermione softly, "I'm glad he didn't."
"Me too," Harry replied with as much fervor as he dared. "Wait… I hear something."
The all-too familiar sound of the master bedroom door swinging open and his uncle's elephantine feet thudding toward his room. He yanked his glasses off and managed to hide both them and the phone under the coverlet and pasted his best fake sleep face on by closing his eyes and thinking about Professor Binns' lectures.
Harry heard his door click open, felt his uncle survey him suspiciously, and finally heard him mutter disappointedly and click the door back closed. If he'd caught the words correctly it was something about a freakish ingrate. Harry didn't care if his uncle heaped insults on him all day though; his ruse had successfully fooled him.
After a brief grace period, Harry brought the phone back up to his ear. "I managed to fool him into thinking I was sleeping," he whispered relieved.
"I'm glad," Hermione said, echoing both his whisper and his relief.
"You don't have to whisper, silly," Harry murmured, suppressing a giggle.
"I know, it's just habit to match the person you're talking to," Hermione replied in her more normal-tone of voice.
"I suppose," Harry said, still whispering to be on the safe side. "So, how was your day?"
"Well, the morning and afternoon were about the same as always," Hermione replied, "I re-read Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time and listened to the radio. Then Mum came home…" she trailed off.
"What happened? Did you get in trouble again?" he asked concernedly.
"No, no, quite the opposite, actually. She'd overheard a little bit of what we were talking about last night when she came to check on me, and I guess she realized that it was too important to interrupt to yell at me for being up late. Besides, she was so thrilled with my O.W.L. results that she's forgiven me over the talking thing. No, she wanted to ask me about… well, about you, actually."
"About me?" Harry asked, bewildered, "What do you mean?"
"Well, she knows you're my best friend and I talk about you and Ron whenever I tell her about school, of course, but I guess she had gotten curious based on what she heard."
"How so? I'm not that interesting," Harry replied, still confused.
Hermione laughed aloud, "Well, I think the rest of the Wizarding World would disagree with you on that, but that's not the point. Mum wanted to know about what had happened last year. So I told her about the Department of Mysteries, which was a highly abbreviated version that lacked any of us being there, the idea of Voldemort and his Death Eaters there, or anything dangerous at all. That meant that it sounded like Sirius got into a nasty argument with someone at the Ministry of Magic and then just tragically died as a result. I told them I was injured in a dueling accident."
"Of course," Harry said bemusedly.
"Anyway, she was horrified when she heard about Sirius's death. She said, and I quote, 'That poor boy! How awful to lose his godfather after losing his parents and everything else he's been through. No wonder he needs a friend to talk to, dear.'"
"Well, it's nice of her to feel sorry for me, I guess," he replied.
"She is pretty compassionate - part of being a pediatric dentist I guess," Hermione answered, "Anyway, talking about that somehow led to talking about Vi - which we never do. I guess she hadn't realised how much I miss her and think about her, even now."
"Some wounds never really heal," Harry said, wondering where that came from even as it left his mouth.
"I know, and it was nice to talk to her and have her hug and cry with me. Then she did something that completely floored me."
"What was that?" Harry asked.
"She left my room for a few minutes and came back with her jewelry box. She pulled out a small necklace - a mustard seed set inside a glass bead, strung on a child-sized gold chain. It was Viola's," Hermione explained, sounding calmer than she had the last time she mentioned her late sister. "Meméré Rose and I had picked it out for her while she was sick, to encourage her to have faith that something better would come after the illness. At the time I thought Meméré was just trying to distract me, but now I really think she was right - Viola is in a better place. Ever since I put her necklace on I've felt closer to her than I have since Mum sent me off to France"
Harry was confused. "What does mustard have to do with faith and a better place?"
"Oh, sorry. Well, in the Bible Jesus said faith was like a mustard seed - the tiniest seed that grows into a huge, strong plant when cultivated well. It's come to be symbolic of faith and hope, so they use it to make jewelry," Hermione explained, "Meméré was very religious; we went to the local cathedral and prayed for Viola every day I was staying with her. She still goes three times a week. Dad says she has ever since Mum's father died and Meméré moved back into his family's house in southern France."
"I see. Where did your grandmother live before that?" Harry asked curiously.
"Oh, well, she and Pepéré raised my mum in London, but he was French - Meméré had met him in college." Hermione expounded, "He died when I was just a baby and she decided she'd feel closer to him in the house where he grew up and where they'd often taken trips during the early years of their marriage."
"It must be lovely there. I remember you telling Hagrid how much you enjoyed the French Coast last year," Harry replied.
"Yes, it is," Hermione enthused, "I'll have to take you there sometime. You could learn all about the French wizarding history in that region. Of course, I didn't know anything about it until Mum and Dad took me to visit her before our third year, but it's really fascinating. Professor Binns was impressed because he'd never heard some of the local witch legends and histories I picked up from books I bought there."
Harry chuckled, "You read French?"
"Wellll…. Not really," Hermione admitted, "Mum and Meméré helped me translate them. Mum really wants me to learn to speak French, but it's not really possible at Hogwarts."
"You could always ask Fleur for French lessons," Harry teased.
"Don't mention that she-devil to me!" Hermione commanded crossly.
"What, do I detect some jealousy?" Harry pressed, "She seemed like a perfectly nice girl and I thought she and Bill were happy - are you wishing you and Bill could discuss Arithmancy privately or something?"
"Hardly," Hermione snorted, "But he does need some cheering up from what I heard in Gin's last letter. Apparently she's being really rude to the whole family even though they're engaged now. Reading between the lines, Ginny's probably being rude right back."
"That figures," said Harry, "I feel bad for Bill, though, being caught between them."
"Me too," replied Hermione. "But it's getting sort of late, Harry, I think we should get some sleep."
"If we have to," Harry whined. "I'd rather go on talking to you and sleep the rest of tomorrow."
"So would I, but your relatives would be cross and you don't want to risk your uncle catching you on the phone," Hermione reasoned.
"Good point," Harry agreed reluctantly, "Good night, then. Sweet dreams."
"They will be," Hermione answered tiredly, "I hope you don't have any."
"I won't, I still have Snape's potion that Hagrid gave me," Harry assured her.
"Good night then, Harry, I'll talk to you tomorrow," she said.
"I'll look forward to it. Goodbye."
"Bye," Hermione said, and he heard the familiar dial tone. Quickly and quietly he snuck the handset back to its assigned spot and returned to his room. Taking his potion, he drifted off into a deep, dreamless slumber.
The next couple of weeks passed in much the same way. Harry would spend his days perfecting his essays for the N.E.W.T. level classes he'd be in and keeping the Dursleys pacified. One morning he forgot to tie the ribbon around Jack's neck and Dudley saw him. Harry endured a morning of teasing until it occurred to him to claim that the rabbit was Hedwig's toy. Dudley accepted that reluctantly and returned to his usual philandering and phone calls.
Every night Harry spent as much time as he dared talking to Hermione. Sometimes they just chatted about their days and sometimes they discussed Sirius and Viola. Occasionally Harry would start to cry, but he didn't feel ashamed. Rather, he felt comforted knowing that Hermione was on the other end of the line, caring and listening. Sometimes she would even cry with him, and he was surprised to find that reassuring.
One Friday night Harry called to find Hermione quite animated, "Guess what, Harry? You'll never guess what's happened!"
"I guess you'll just have to tell me then," Harry responded, bemused.
"I got a letter and package from Professor Lupin," she explained, apparently not noticing his teasing. "He'd helped the twins with the last charm on your mirror, and it works now!"
"That's great news," he replied, glad that his last gift from his godfather would be intact again.
"He also found Sirius's mirror in his things," she continued cautiously, "and sent it along as well."
"Oh," Harry said, trying to be enthusiastic. Part of him was still hoping that Sirius had his with him and had just been out of range when he'd tried to reach him at the end of the school year.
Hermione sensed Harry's dejection and quickly changed the subject, "Professor Lupin went on to say that Fred and George found a way to alter the magi-technology. They've merged them with Extendible Ears, in a way."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Well, they've come up with a set that just behaves as an ordinary mirror on half, but the other half hears and sees whatever is said near or reflected in the mirror," Hermione explained. "Originally, the twins wanted to sell the dummy one as a vanity and keep the peeping tom side for themselves, but Angelina and Alicia vetoed that idea right away."
"I can see why," Harry answered wryly.
"Yeah, me too," Hermione giggled, "The Order will probably find a way to use them, though."
"Hey, yeah!" Harry exclaimed, "It'd be great if you could get one of those into the Death Eater's houses."
"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "From what little he told me, I think Professor Snape is going to do his best to get the dummies set up in their temporary headquarters and in the homes of some of the more influential members."
"They could even try to get one into Azkaban," Harry suggested.
"That's a good idea," Hermione replied. "I'll mention it to Professor McGonagall in my next letter - giving you credit, of course."
"Thanks," Harry said, a little embarrassed. He searched for a change of subject. Finally, he asked, "Why did Alicia care if Fred and George were using the mirrors like they planned? I mean, I can see why Angelina would care, but why did Alicia?"
"You hadn't heard?" Hermione asked, surprised. "I was sure I'd told you Alicia and George started dating while she was working with them this summer."
"Oh, that's right," Harry said, feeling silly. "Is there any other gossip I've somehow missed or forgotten?"
"Well, did I tell you about Ginny's last letter?" she asked.
"I don't think so."
"Ah, well then, there's lots," she replied. "Apparently Dean went to visit the Burrow last week. The two of them had a lot of fun, but Ron caught them snogging in the field where the Weasleys generally play pick-up Quidditch and went nuts."
"Really? Did he punch Dean?" Harry asked.
"No, but only because Gin immobilized him before he could," Hermione laughed. "He couldn't stand to be around Dean for the rest of his visit, though, so he actually agreed to Luna's invitation to dinner at her house."
"She fancies him, doesn't she?"
"Yes, she wasn't too subtle about it last year, was she?" Hermione grinned, "And apparently she's been over to 'see Ginny' almost every day this summer. She spends most of her time mooning over 'Ronald,' though."
"Sounds like a regular love boat in the Burrow," Harry quipped.
"Indeed," Hermione replied. "But you know, even though I think Dean is much better for Ginny than Michael was, I wish she'd notice Neville more."
"What?" Harry asked, "How so?"
"Well, he was quite taken with her after they went to the Yule Ball," Hermione explained, "But she met Michael there and started going out with him before Neville had gotten up the nerve to ask her out again."
"Oh, poor Neville," Harry agreed.
"And then she and Dean started dating before we'd half realized that she'd split up with Michael," Hermione continued. "I only hope she's remembered to send him a birthday card."
"Was today Neville's birthday?" Harry asked, thinking about the prophecy fleetingly.
"Yes," Hermione replied. "I sent him a card and some sugar-free gum with a book I thought he might like."
"That was nice of you," Harry said.
Hermione laughed. "Hey, look at your clock."
"What about it?" he asked, reading 12.49.
"It's your birthday, Harry. You've been sixteen for nearly an hour and I hadn't said anything. Forgive me?" she entreated.
"Sure," he promised easily.
"Then will you also send Hedwig to me? I've got a present for you, but I don't have a way to get it to you."
"Right away," he said, going over to her cage and whispering, "Go to Hermione, girl." Hedwig hooted softly and soared out his window in the familiar direction of the Grangers'.
"Thanks," she replied humbly, "You know, speaking of Michael, Ginny said he and Cho visited Fred and George's shop last week."
"Really?" Harry asked uninterestedly.
"Yeah, apparently they were quite touchy-feely and bought some fireworks," Hermione reported carefully. "Ginny figures they did it on purpose so word would get back to her."
"That sounds like Cho," Harry said impassively. "She wasn't that nice, to be honest."
"You don't miss her, then?" Hermione asked, trying to sound casual.
"Nope," Harry replied honestly, "I hope I eventually get better at the whole kissing thing, though."
"Me too - er, I'm sure you will," Hermione responded. "Um, speaking of kissing - guess what Ginny did to mess with Ron after Dean left?"
"I hope she didn't kiss him," Harry said dryly.
"Ew, no!" Hermione cried, "See, Dean had tried to teach Ginny to play football, and he'd gotten his shirt all muddy in the process so Mrs. Weasley gave him an old one of Percy's to wear."
"Okay…" Harry prompted, wondering where this was headed.
"Well, Dean forgot to take his original shirt home with him, so Ginny washed it and was planning to send it back to him. Then she realized that Ron had missed the whole football thing, so she decided to mess with him."
"How'd she do that?"
"She put on bright red lipstick and left kiss-marks all over the collar of the shirt. Then she put it where Ron was sure to find it the next morning."
"Aha," Harry laughed in spite of himself, "How did Ron react?"
"About like you'd expect. He stormed around and insisted that his mother give Ginny the 'where babies come from' lecture again. Mrs. Weasley obliged, and according to Gin it sounded a lot like the one Mum just subjected me to."
"I guess that proves that Muggles and Magical folks aren't that different after all," Harry quipped.
"Mothers are pretty much the same across the board," Hermione answered, then quickly added, "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry."
"It's okay," he assured her. "So, how did Ron's dinner with the Lovegoods go?"
"Nothing much to report, at least not that Ginny knew," she said.
"That's probably because he's crazy about you," Harry said naïvely.
Hermione sighed, "He's not - he just thinks he is."
"Huh?"
"He's convinced himself that he's in love with me because I'm the only girl besides Ginny that he's comfortable around. He also probably thinks like Mum - that our fighting all the time means we're destined to be together or some such rot."
"You, er, don't agree?" Harry asked, realizing suddenly how happy he was to hear that.
"Of course not, Harry!" Hermione replied, sounding shocked, "I spent most of last year trying to discourage his romantic notions, didn't you notice?"
"Um, no," he replied, feeling like Fawkes had just pulled the entire Chamber of Secrets off his shoulders.
"Well, he gave me horrible perfume for Christmas and I ignored it. I made sure I was with you, Luna, and that Skeeter woman on Valentine's Day, and I wasn't that fussed about his Quidditch games," Hermione recited, "None of that gave you a clue?"
"I guess not," Harry replied, "I just thought since he liked you, you'd end up dating."
"As they say, it takes two to tango, and although I like him very much as a friend, my dance card's not for Ron," Hermione concluded neatly.
"Does he know that?" Harry asked.
"Unfortunately, he seems impervious to hints," she sighed, "I wish he'd fall for Luna so we could avoid a big scene when he finally comes out and asks me and I have to turn him down."
"It would make things easier, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, but we can't control who people fall in love with," Hermione replied philosophically.
"It's sort of like a tape Dudley used to have when we were kids," Harry said suddenly. "Have you ever heard of a song called 'The Farmer in the Dell?'"
"Maybe, but what's that got to do with Ron and Luna?" Hermione asked, confused for once.
"Well, in the song, everyone wants or takes something different than what wants or takes them. Just like Neville wants Ginny, who wants Dean. And Luna wants Ron, who wants you. And I'm the cheese."
"The cheese?"
"Alone."
"You won't be alone, Harry, I promise," Hermione said, sincerely.
"Thank you," Harry said. They were quiet for a few minutes. Then, just as Harry heard her breathing level off to the point where he knew she was almost asleep, he heard himself whisper, "Love you, My-nee."
This time the silence was deafening. Where had that come from? He certainly hadn't planned to say it. He must have been so relieved to hear that she wasn't interested in Ron that he forgot to guard his feelings. Why wasn't she saying anything? Was she shocked? Upset? Asleep? Had he just ruined their friendship forever? Did he misunderstand her promise that he wouldn't be alone?
Finally, after what seemed like an eternal age, Hermione replied, "Me too, Harry. Bye," and hung up.