The Pact

Disclaimer- as always, I do not own Harry Potter nor will I make one thin dime while writing anything with him in it.

I wrote this a LONG time ago, back when I wrote Porschephile. I knew that I wanted to have something with just Harry and Hermione in it, some good interaction between the two of them. I wanted something set in seventh year, but also something realistic…well as realistic as you get with wizards and witches and all that. More importantly though, I wanted something pure. No cars, no AU characters, just the two of them. So here we are, hope you enjoy.

The Pact

Why did I let them talk me into coming back here, thought Harry Potter as he reached the last step to the seventh floor. He was carrying a huge load of books, all newly acquired from the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. They were so tall that he couldn't see over them and had to inch his way up the stairs, feeling from step to step with his foot.

He knew he had reached the entrance to the Common Room when he heard, “Password please…”

It was the Fat Lady.

“Come on!” barked Harry, the password on the tip of his tongue but for some reason not wanting to venture any further, “Open up before I drop these!”

“Ah yes, Mr. Potter,” said the Fat Lady, her tone cool and even, making Harry even hotter under the collar. “You know the rules; password please.”

“Modus Operandi,” muttered Harry, his memory and mouth finally cooperating as his grip on the books started to falter.

“Even with such a load of distraction at hand, you still remember my password. How touching,” the Fat lady teased as Harry awkwardly climbed through the portal, nearly dropping his stack of books.

“Why did I let them talk me into it?” he grunted.

When Hermione had asked him to visit Hogwarts over summer, he had expected to be checking in on Hagrid and Buckbeak. Little did he know, Hermione had told the new Headmistress about the Horcruxes and the quest to destroy them. After about two hours of what Harry considered badgering at the hands of McGonnagal and her protégé, he relented and agreed to attend Hogwarts for his 7^th year. He had a few conditions of course; he was free to come and go as he pleased. He did not have to attend classes if he didn't want too. Ron was Quidditch Captain and Hermione Head Girl. All agreed too.

Harry walked into the common room and turned sideways to see around the books and make sure he didn't run into anyone on his way to the dormitory. In the far corner of the room, away from the fireplace, a group of first years sat around a table desperately trying to levitate a feather, while on the other side of the room, sitting on a love seat with books spread around her in all directions, was Hermione. She was, as always, engaged in schoolwork of some kind, but Harry noticed she had kicked off her shoes and socks and was twirling a half eaten Sugar Quill between her fingers.

Harry was about to walk past her and head up stairs when he looked closer at the table in front of her and saw a platter loaded with an assortment house elf specialties, freshly delivered from the kitchen. His stomach gave an audible lurch and he realized he had been in the library all day. He had forgotten to eat.

Walking over to the table, he found a small spot of free space and set his books down saying, “Hey Hermione. Did you bring up some food from the kitchen?”

Hermione looked up from her parchment and book saying, “Actually I came in here about an hour ago while classes were still going on and found Dobby doing a bit of cleaning. I didn't want to have dinner in the hall tonight, so I asked him to prepare a plate for me. Would you like some? You know house elves; ask for a plate for one and look what you get!”

There was enough food for four or five people on the platter. Harry smiled and sat down next to her on the love seat, grabbing a sandwich.

Between bites he asked, “You had Dobby bring you food? There's no S.P.E.W. rule against that?”

“Oh, of course not! He has to earn his pay, right?” She nibbled at the Sugar Quill adding, “Though, I provided my own dessert.”

Harry nodded in understanding as he thought about Dobby, the only house elf he knew of that was working for pay instead of tradition. “He's been working here for a few years now, right?” asked Harry looking up from his half eaten sandwich, “Has he had a raise yet?”

Hermione smiled knowingly, “Yes, he has. I asked Professor McGonagall about it over summer and she said he gets a yearly raise. Now if I can just get some of the other elves to follow along.”

Harry finished the sandwich as she spoke, feeling much better with something in his stomach. He still felt a bit on edge though. While in the library, collecting research material, Ginny had once again cornered him and asked about the two of them getting back together. He'd tried hard to concentrate on his work, not looking up at her or responding with a precise answer either negatively or positively, but it was getting harder and harder to keep her at bay. In the few short weeks since the term had started, he'd used up almost all of his excuses short of telling her that he simply didn't want to be with her anymore.

He leaned back into the love seat and sighed heavily.

“Everything all right Harry?” asked Hermione, looking at him with concern. “It's Ginny, isn't it?”

She's been practicing Legilimency, Harry thought, amused by his transparency.

“Yeah,” he responded, with another heavy sigh. “I don't know what to do about her, Hermione. I don't want to talk to her about things between us. It's only going to get messy. I know it.”

“Well then you shouldn't have danced with her at the wedding, now should you?” Hermione teased.

“Come on Hermione! That's not fair!” Harry said, not noticing the light nature of Hermione's comment. This was a sensitive subject with him. He knew he should have turned her down when she wanted to dance. He knew he would regret it later, but he was between a rock and a hard place. “What was I supposed to do? Her whole family was there. Should I have made her cry and had everyone hate me?”

“Harry, I'm only having you on. I know that was a no-win situation for you. I was there, remember?” Hermione leaned back into the cushion next to him, her shoulder touching his and added, “The sweater isn't helping matters, is it?”

“Urgh. Please don't talk about the sweater Hermione.” Harry groaned.

Headmistress McGonagall's rule at Hogwarts had not changed very many things from previous years. She had been consulted by Dumbledore when many of the current rules were put in place, so no one was surprised.

One thing she had slightly changed was the dress code. During Spring and Fall, when there was a chill in the morning but afternoons could swelter, the Hogwarts Robe was at once not enough clothing and simultaneously, too much.

McGonagall added a skirt and light blouse to the girl's uniform list and a pair of light pants and a button down shirt to the boy's. They were available in house colors, of course, and for those chilly mornings she added a light jacket for boys and a button up sweater for girls. When worn properly, the sweater would cover the whole upper body from waist to neck to wrist. The girls were excited to have a new piece of clothing to wear and the sweaters were quite popular.

Most girls wore them the way they were designed to be worn. Some girls, Ginny Weasley being one of them, had shrunk the sweaters by charm or by wash, so that they fit very snugly. They wrapped nearly skin tight around the waist, ended at the elbow exposing the forearm and most heinously, could be buttoned up to a point just beneath the bustling that greatly enhanced the bosom.

Hermione had never gotten around to picking up a sweater before the start of term. Ginny had 3 and wore one almost every day.

“Sorry Harry,” said Hermione moving closer to him on the sofa so that he could feel her next to him. She had a look of condolences on her face and Harry thought that she was done teasing, and really was sorry.

“At least you have someone paying attention to you,” she added, her face falling as she spoke.

“How's that?” asked Harry

“Ron and I,” she began, thinking the words through before speaking, “aren't much of a couple, I'm afraid.”

“No?”

“No. In fact, you remember at the wedding, how we went for a little walk and had some time alone?”

Harry smiled at the memory. Fred and George had teased Ron mercilessly for taking Hermione on a `Snog-N-Stroll' as they'd called it.

“Yeah I remember,” replied Harry, trying not to laugh.

“Well that was the last time that he and I—, “she paused again, looking for the right word, face flushing slightly, “had any of that kind of contact.”

Harry was astounded. Ron and he had an almost brotherly relationship, with one glaring exception. When it came to women they rarely spoke and never about Hermione. Harry suddenly found that fact very odd. Was it because she was a mutual friend? Or was there something more complicated when it came to Hermione and their collective feelings towards one another?

“But Hermione, that was almost 3 months ago!” He exclaimed, still in disbelief.

“Yes, I realize that Harry,” she murmured leaning forward and propping her head in her hands. “I'm starting to wonder if maybe you were on to something back in fifth year when you wondered about being so awful at kissing that it made Cho cry. I think I might have had the same affect on Ron.”

Harry looked at her profile as she sat next to him. She has lovely lips, he thought. They were pursed now, deep in speculation, but he remembered the countless times he had seen her bite the lower lip with worry. She's always had nice lips. No, this problem is with Ron, not her.

As he studied her face he saw her eyes start to well with tears. She really is upset about this, he realized. Whether it was the pain on her face or the fact that he felt a deep kinship to her; both of them having relationship issues, he wasn't sure, but before he could say another word, he found his arm had gone around her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She leaned back into him, resting her head on his chest and sighing deeply.

“I'm sorry Hermione. I didn't know. I thought you two were just being… private, I suppose.”

“Well, Ron's definitely being private,” she said her head still against his chest, his arm still around her.

Harry had a sudden, disturbing thought. He knew it couldn't be true, but he had to ask, “Hermione, I know Ron isn't that kind of guy, and more importantly, you aren't that kind of girl, but… at the wedding, you two didn't… well you know. Nothing too serious happened, right?” Hermione looked up at him with a puzzled expression. Harry continued, “What I mean to say is; he hasn't got what he wanted from you and moved on to find someone else right?”

Understanding dawned on her face, “Merlin's sake Harry! NO, no, no. Everything is still,” she motioned towards her waist and legs, “intact.”

He felt a bit confused as to why, but a wave of relief washed over him at her words. “OK good. I mean, fine. You know what I mean…” he stuttered. Hermione rolled her eyes and resumed her position leaning against him.

“It's almost as if the wedding never happened,” she said. Harry could feel the vibration from her voice against his chest as she spoke. He squeezed her shoulder a little tighter. “We still do all the same things we always did,” she continued, “almost like we never went on that walk. Weird isn't it?”

“Do you want me to talk to him about it?” Harry said, wincing at the words as they left his lips. What made him ask that? He would rather be back in detention with Umbridge than talk to Ron about Hermione.

“No Harry. Thank you for the offer, but this is between him and me. I need to corner him and ask him about us.” She looked up at him, a smile on her face and added, “Should I ask Ginny how it's done?”

“Very funny”, he groaned, the weight of his own situation falling back on his shoulders. “She's driving me mad, Hermione. I almost wish I had never been with her in the first place.”

“About that, “ Hermione said, inching closer still to him, whispering quietly, “Don't repeat this to anyone, especially if they are a Weasley, but I always thought she was, well -- a bit of a distraction, you know?”

Harry tried to keep his expression blank at her words but he couldn't hide his surprise. Hermione seemed to have given this a lot of thought. What else does she think about Ginny and I, he wondered.

“Don't look at me like that!” she said, jabbing him playfully in the ribs. “You know what I mean. That is why you broke up with her, right? So you could concentrate on more important things like Horcruxes and Voldemort?”

At the time, his only reason for breaking it off with Ginny had been to protect her. He'd thought that she would be in danger if it was known that they were a couple. Hermione was right though, she was a distraction.

“You two spent every moment together Harry. You had too much in common. No offense to Ginny, but you have more important things to do now. Don't you?”

“By that logic you and Ron should be married with about 3 kids by now. Seeing as you two have nothing in common,” Harry replied.

Hermione's face contorted at his comment. “Is that what you think Harry?”

“Well maybe `nothing in common' is a bit strong. You do spend more time arguing than anything else though. Right?” He suddenly felt as though he was walking on rather thin ice. These were his two best friends he was talking about.

But Hermione's expression softened. She leaned back into the cushion again and sighed, “I guess maybe you're right Harry. Weird that we have the same problem but very different symptoms.”

“Yeah,” agreed Harry with a laugh. He found it humorous that both of their love lives were now entangled in the spider's web that was The Weasley Family.

But suddenly, Hermione looked distraught. Her eyes were welling up again and Harry felt awful, as it was his comment that had brought on her new melancholy. Feeling a pang of guilt, he decided to try and brighten her mood, or at least stop her from crying all over his robes...

“So, let me make sure I have this right,” he began, “Your Weasley wants nothing to do with you and mine won't leave me alone, right?”

Hermione looked up at him and nodded.

He continued, “Should we just kick down the closet door and see if they would fancy a swap then?”

Harry could tell that she tried to contain the laugh that burst forth, but she couldn't. A smile on her face now, she said, “A good idea, but I don't think I could ever be a lesbian. Girls are far to—emotional for my taste. Pity too. If I were to try it out, Ginny would be at the top of my list.”

Harry smiled euphorically as the thought of Hermione and Ginny together entered his mind. Hermione seemed to sense what he was thinking and quickly added, “Of course that would leave you and Ron together. Right?”

He shuddered as Ron's image replaced Hermione and Ginny. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me Hermione.” She laughed again, her tears gone now. At least she isn't crying anymore, he thought.

She needed someone more like herself. Harry couldn't think of anyone who qualified. Well maybe himself, but that was out of the question. The two of them were friends and would always be. Things worked best this way. The trio's dynamic was established and fulfilled everyone's needs.

Except now, when suddenly it didn't.

Ron and Hermione, for whatever reason, probably wouldn't stay together. Who would that leave her with? Viktor Krum certainly wasn't in any great hurry to come back.

“Hermione, why do you suppose you and I never-- you know, had a go at it?”

He felt his mouth move, heard the words in his ears, but honestly didn't remember thinking to say them. They simply came.

“You mean… like as a couple?” she asked, her eyebrows arched in surprise. “I can't believe you want to talk about this right now…”

“What?” he exclaimed. She had turned away from him, shaking her head. Her shoulders shook slightly and he couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying but when she turned back towards him, her face had gone slightly pink. “Come on Hermione, we're both—what was your word… fanciable people. Why do—“

But Hermione suddenly rounded on him, “Oh, we're both fanciable now, are we? Last I heard, you merely thought I wasn't ugly. “

He'd said that about her almost two years ago and she still remembered it. He wanted to crawl away and find a place to hide as he realized it only took Ron four years to realize she was a girl. He was just finally seeing it after almost seven.

If he could change the subject maybe, and try and regroup. Maybe he could salvage this somehow. “Uh, so how is being Head Girl going for—“

But Hermione would have none of it. She swung her legs over his lap, as if to trap him in his seat and said coyly, “Oh, no you don't Potter! You started this conversation, you're going to finish it!”

Harry was in trouble. She would prod and pester until she had every detail out of him. At least she had put her legs across his lap. Harry had never noticed how small her feet were until now. It seemed she hadn't grown any taller since fourth year, stopping at a hair over five feet tall. He thought maybe his hands were larger than her feet, and her legs had a wonderful lightness to them. He could probably scoop her up in his arms and carry her away with no effort.

“So, you were saying something about me being fanciable?” she said, wiggling her bare toes at him and smiling. Maybe this won't be so bad after all, he thought, feeling a little giddy.

When he thought about Hermione, he knew she was more than just `not ugly'. Harry was never very good at talking to girls about this kind of thing. Even with Ginny, he never had to tell her that he thought she was pretty. She already knew.

Hermione didn't have Ginny's figure or girl-next-door face. Nor did she have Cho or Pavarti's exotic beauty, but certainly she was lovely. More importantly though; her eyes, her lips, her wild hair—they all endeared her to Harry. She was more than just a pretty face to him. She had always been more.

Harry turned and moved closer to her, so that she was practically on his lap now. She didn't seem to mind. He felt a terrific comfort sitting there with her. The stack of books he piled on the table had been long forgotten, and he found himself wishing this conversation would never end, or that he could somehow have it over and over with her every night.

“I have always thought you were—fanciable, Hermione.” He smiled awkwardly at the word fanciable. He needed a new adjective. “I was wondering more why you never seemed to fancy me or vice versa. Why we never went to Hogsmeade on dates or to the Yule Ball together. That kind of thing.”

“I don't know Harry,” she started, her face redder still, “Seems a bit cliché, don't you think? Everyone always thought we were secret lovers or something to that affect. Wouldn't it be a pity to prove them right after all this time?” Her face betrayed her words, however. She wore a huge mischievous smile.

“It isn't possible they all saw something we didn't?” he asked.

“Well…” Hermione paused, as if debating whether to tell him something she wasn't sure he should know. After a moment she continued, “I think it was more a matter of timing really.”

“What does timing have to do with anything?”

“Loads,” she said, turning to look him in the eye. Harry saw her face take on the look it always did when she was about to expound on a topic. “What if I had a crush on you in forth year and told you about it? You obviously didn't think of me as girlfriend material back then, so you would have been polite and let me down easy, I'm sure.” He opened his mouth to protest her quick judgment of him, but she waved away his words before they could escape adding, “Then there would have been something between us, a discomfort of some kind. Something that might have kept me from helping you with your summoning spell perhaps? How would your match with the Hungarian Horntail have gone then, eh?”

Harry understood. Even if he had got past the dragon, who would have marched Umbridge into the forest the next year? Or started the D. A.? Hermione had been a key part of his survival from year to year. Things had to stay the way they did between them or there was no telling what could have happened to him.

But did this mean that she had fancied him in forth year? Or fifth or sixth? He decided not to pursue the subject, as the here and now was much more important.

“You're right, as usual.” he said putting his right hand in hers and tightening his hold around her with his left. “What about now? More bad timing I suppose? You and Ron are together and I have been stupid enough to not think of you as girlfriend material until I couldn't have you to myself?”

“Forbidden fruit,” she said, squeezing his hand with her own.

“But are you?” Harry asked, a hope rising in him that made his mouth water and his lungs feel already full off air as he tried to take a breath. “You said that you and Ron really don't have much of a relationship. Ginny and I are done. I really can't see myself going back to her now, even if things end ok with Voldemort. So what's keeping us apart then? Why can't we give it a go?” He fixed his gaze on her brown eyes and watched for some reaction before she spoke. He tried to gauge her response, to see if there really had been something there and all those years and he was just too blind to see it.

Her eyes glowed as she realized he was serious about this. He was seeing her in a new light.

Harry couldn't see a sure yes or no on her face, but she put her arms around his neck and pulled his face close to hers whispering, “I can't think of anything I would love more Harry. Really I can't, but you already know the reason. You have more important things to do right now. Even more important than me.”

Her face was bittersweet as she spoke and Harry knew, once again, that she was right. He looked at the stack of books on the table and felt his resolve to find the answers to the Horcuxes stiffen. He nodded slowly and made a move to rise and heave his stack of books, but Hermione pushed down on his legs with hers, keeping him seated.

He looked at her curiously. Hadn't she just said…?

“Harry, I think we should make a promise to each other, a kind of pact, ok?”

At this point I'll promise anything Hermione, he thought as he nodded to her.

“When this war is over, and it will be over soon Harry, I have no doubt in my mind… we have to promise each other,” she paused and he saw a warm smile come to her face, replacing the bittersweet look of a moment ago, “that we will have this conversation again.”

His heart leapt in his chest as he realized what her words meant. There was hope after all.

“Brightest Witch indeed,” he whispered to her.

She removed her hand from around his neck and extended it as if to shake his, “Shall we shake on it then?”

Harry had other ideas. He looked quickly around the common room, making sure that they were still alone except for the first years and whispered, “That's how you want seal this deal, a polite handshake?”

“Why, what did you have in mind?” she asked

“Well,” he replied running his hand up the nape of her neck and pulling her close.

She sensed what was coming next and put her hands on his chest stopping him. “Harry! They'll see us!” she motioned towards the table of first years.

“I really don't think we need to worry about them Hermione. They`ve been trying to `Leviosa that feather since I came in here.”

Hermione heard a pre-pubescent voice yelling “LE-VI-O-SA!” from over her shoulder and knew he was right. A serene smile came to her face and she whispered to him, “In for a Knut in for a Galleon, then.”

They came together for only a moment, the kiss cut short by a familiar distraction in the form of two ginger haired Weasleys. They were covered in mud and sweat, their Quidditch robs clinging uncomfortably to their tired bodies. Practice had apparently not gone well.

They heard Ginny first, “No Ron, I don't know how long it took me to find the snitch. I was too busy looking for it to keep track of the time. I swear, you're only Captain because Harry asked McGonagall to make you Captain. It's not like—.”

Ron cut her off, “Gin, all I am saying is that Ravenclaw is a much better Beater and Chaser team than we are, so if we're going to win, than you— hold on…”

He had spotted his two friends on the sofa. In the moment between when they heard Ron and Ginny enter the common room and when Ron had seen them, they had managed to collect themselves somewhat, but Harry still had his arm around Hermione and her hand lay awkwardly in his lap. Things weren't helped by the fact they both looked like cats which had recently swallowed an entire nest of canaries.

“What are you two up to?” he demanded, his eyes narrowed on them like a carnivore's, ready to pounce. Ginny stood at his side glaring. Harry couldn't help but wonder what she was mad about. He had told her that they needed to break up after all. Besides, they hadn't seen them--had they?

Hermione found her voice first. “Just talking and studying Ron. How was practice?”

Ron's expression didn't change. “Studying what? I wasn't aware Hogwarts was offering lessons in that,” he said, gesturing to Harry's arm draped over her shoulder.

“We were talking too Ron,” Harry replied as calmly as possible. He suddenly felt angry at Ron. What was he mad about? He hadn't touched Hermione in months. She should be the one yelling, you prat.

Ginny felt obligated to respond. “Well you certainly look comfortable, don't you? Nice fire,” she gestured to the crackling embers in the common room fireplace, “meal laid out before you. And so cozy snuggled next to each other. Almost romantic, isn't it Ron?”

Before Ron could reply, Hermione stood up and walked up to him, grabbing him by the arm and saying firmly, “Come on Ron, we need to have a discussion. In private.” She turned back to Harry, her face and tone gentle again, “I'll talk to you later, Harry.”

With that, they disappeared through the portal leaving Ginny and Harry alone with the first years.

This was the last place Harry wanted to be. Feeling a little drained from his talk with Hermione, he couldn't fight off Ginny now. He wanted to take his books and go.

Ginny sat down next to him, but before she could speak she noticed the platter of food on the tabletop. She gave Harry a look that said `May I?' and he said, “Tuck in, Gin.”

Remembering that he had first sat down on the love seat looking for a bite to eat himself, then considering where the conversation went from there, Harry decided it was time to make his retreat. He stood up and lugged the books into his arms muttering his goodbye to Ginny over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

It had been a strange, wonderful evening, and with his mind wildly speculating on what was waiting for him after Voldemort was gone, he plopped the books on his desk and felt the new conviction building inside him.

He had a lot to look forward too.

The end.

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