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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. does, and she has every right to do whatever she thinks is best for Harry Potter. I just love writing. So sue me. Wait, seriously… don't.
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A/N:
I have decided to cut the first part of the original chapter to fill in the slot for chapter 15 so that what you would be reading would be the revised edition only, and not the introduction that some of you might have already read at least once…
I am warning you, this chapter is merely the introduction to the next, so don't expect much…
I don't expect new readers would review for this, so after you finish reading, you can go ahead to the next chapter…
I wouldn't even review for this one if I were the one who read it.
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To say that he was frustrated was a masterpiece of an understatement.
Harry couldn't even find the words to express his irritation. He was beyond frustration. In fact, he was close to abandoning his vow never to approach her again by storming to and confronting her about her behavior, treating him as if he didn't exist in her world.
It wasn't that she was treating him badly. Indeed, he would have been happier was she throwing snide remarks at him. The Lord knew he was used to her ferocious temper by now!
But what irritated him was that he barely even received notice from her. He wouldn't be surprised if he found out he had fallen off the face of the earth.
He had expected this, of course, knowing that what he did warranted such a conduct. But it still irked him that she could act as if nothing happened, while he was trying hard merely not to locate her whereabouts every five minutes or so.
It had been two days since the night he proposed, and it had been two days as well since they had said a word to each other. Harry vowed to use his assault as an advantage to get rid of his feelings for her, but he didn't count on her using it for her own cause.
For some reason, which Harry didn't even want to contemplate on, Hermione had managed to steer clear of his presence without looking as if she were really trying.
Whenever he was inside, playing cards with the gentlemen, Hermione seemed to find it comforting to spend the day outside, strolling in the gardens, or just enjoying the scenery. Now when Harry swore that it was a blessed day for a ride, Hermione thought it fitting to stay inside, saying she needed to catch up with the other ladies.
Harry had to smirk at this, knowing that no force on earth strong enough could make her interested in what they had to say, except perhaps, he bitterly thought, him.
He wanted this to happen, he reminded himself, but all he could think was how stupid he had been to give her a reason to avoid him. Because of what happened, he couldn't even approach Hermione to remind her to stay in Sirius' house and implore anyone to accompany her wherever she went, the washroom excluded, of course.
He had not told his godfather yet what transpired, dreading another long sermon from him regarding the innocence of women and seducing them when they had no knowledge of what was taking place.
Harry would swear to heaven, if he were to tell Sirius everything, that Hermione had been no giddy schoolgirl regarding what happened. He was certain of her innocence all right, just not her ignorance.
She was, after all, the same age as he.
The door to the billiards room banged open as Harry projected his anger on it. The sound was very disturbing, even to his ears as the splitting crash reverberated across the room and out into the hall.
Cursing silently for the damage he must have done to the door's knob and hinges, he entered the playroom, shoving aside the innocent chair that was minding its own business near the bar as he walked over to the cue cabinet.
He took the one that he favored and crossed the room, stopping when he saw that the door that led to the balcony was ajar. Frowning, he set his cue stick on one of the billiards table and with languid steps, approached the entrance to the veranda.
Could she be there? He asked himself, remembering all too well the night that he and Hermione had met that first time.
Would he actually find her in the balcony exactly as he had three months ago?
Shaking his head at the foolish notion of fate letting them meet exactly in the same manner, he pushed the half closed side of the door towards its mate, hearing a click when the lock fell into place.
Harry knew it was quite silly, but he couldn't resist taking a momentary glance outside just to make sure. It was a weird feeling, confusion. One never knew what to make of it.
He stepped back and allowed his mind to register what he saw.
Nothing.
No one was there.
No one was bent over the ledge, trying to hide some cards.
He sighed, the sound foreign to his ears. He was not certain whether he felt disappointed or relieved that Hermione had not managed to sneak out of wherever she was to find her way over here.
But who was he kidding, anyway?
If she didn't hate him entirely before, she certainly did now.
He turned around and walked over to where his cue stick was lying against the table. He grabbed the stick, and then dropped it down again. Suddenly, he didn't find himself quite up to playing anymore.
So, he walked over to the bar, got behind it and opened the cabinet where decanters of whiskey were. He poured himself a greedy amount of liquor in a goblet and decided to take in some fresh air.
Perhaps the wind of the cold night would dissipate his sourly mood.
He had barely closed the door that led to the balcony, when the one on the opposite side of the room burst open.
He plastered himself at the corner near the glass doors, his heart thumping madly as he waited for the person who would enter, but he didn't look. He was too busy wishing his thoughts would come alive to bother spying.
"You have so much cockiness for your own good, do you know that?" Came a voice that he recognized all too well.
Harry relaxed, not quite happy, yet not too angry either, and walked over to the ledge, not bothering to make his presence known to his present company.
"No." He heard Ron's laugh as he presumably entered the room, followed by Luna.
Leaning towards the ledge, Harry sipped his whiskey and looked far beyond the overpowering land of his godfather. It was dark, but the moon provided enough light for him to appreciate his view without having to squint much.
Behind him he could hear Ron arranging the billiards set.
It looked like they were going to be here for a while, he sighed.
He didn't mind their presence, although he was certainly not up to joining them. It was not advisable, when he was in a disagreeable mood. Besides, he had no desire nor need for company.
Or perhaps if he did…
It was not theirs that he wanted…
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Luna rolled her eyes at her husband as he tried to sink the ball into the corner pocket and then miss terribly. After a half hour of doing nothing but miss shots, you would think that he would have gotten an idea by now.
"I am poor at this sport," he announced, straightening and then sending her a wolfish grin.
"I hadn't noticed," Luna smiled all innocently. Ron chucked her under the chin and moved around the table, measuring distance, as if doing so would improve his game. Luna gazed forlornly at her husband. It was a few minutes before she let out a breath.
"Hermione's been acting strange," she alighted from the chair she had been seating on and walked around the table to face her Ron.
"What do you mean?"
"She's not been really herself lately," Luna shook her head, "I mean, she's really not very loquacious, but even her silence now is quite disconcerting."
"Perhaps it has something to do with the gossips moving about," Ron aimed for the ball and hit. The white one knocked the red ball into the farthest corner, and it fell in, marking his first successful shot. Ron straightened and grinned at Luna, expecting her to be smiling over his triumph. But she wasn't, and his smile turned into a frown.
"It does seem to be more overwhelming now that no news of marriage or even a betrothal has been mentioned," she murmured quietly, "I found her packing her belongings the other night. She told me she wanted to return to Ravenclaw."
The information had Ron's full interest. "It's been 5 years since she set her eyes on her own estate. It would be healthy for her if she did return."
Luna shook her head; the concern in her eyes told him that she was worried. Her voice was cold but soft when she interjected. "Ravenclaw may be her home, but there are just too many bad memories there. If I were her, I'd rather not set a foot in that place again."
"I know, darling."
Luna sighed. "She wouldn't be so eager to leave if Harry just treated her kindly."
"He is not cruel to her."
"That's because he doesn't let anybody see. Hermione says Harry does not like her. I told her it was a given since she did not like him as well. I said that Harry only gives back what he receives."
Ron shook his head at her, wanting to defend his best friend. "You can't blame him if she thinks he is vindictive, she has not been any kinder."
"That's true."
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Behind them, Harry straightened.
After half an hour of listening to them banter and bicker, his ears were already sharp enough to hear Luna's whisper. It didn't come off as a surprise that he was able to hear his name despite the fact that she barely uttered it.
They had been talking about Hermione, he figured that much, and he had been certain that in some point of the conversation, they were going to enter him in it. He thought he wouldn't mind, but when the time came that he actually heard his name, he became curious as to what either one had to say.
He silently crept to the wall beside the door and listened, hoping to hear more of what they were talking about. It wasn't something he figured he wanted to know…
He knew in his guts, it was something he needed to know.
Ron's voice came next, and he crept closer, as much as the space would allow him to without letting them see him. "Harry does not know much about Hermione. It is not his fault if he treats her the way he does."
"I know. I'm sorry. It's just that, she does not deserve to be played at anymore. She has enough scars to last her a lifetime."
Harry frowned. Suffering? He was aware the death of Hermione's father had been quite a blow, but they talked about it as if she was still carrying a burden that 7 years of mourning had not been able to take away.
"If only he just makes the effort to know her, maybe he will come to understand," Harry heard the whimper in her voice as if she was trying hard no to cry and frowned.
Why was everybody treating him a villain for not understanding Hermione?
Was it his fault that he found her accusations a bit too much?
Then she laughed. "You would think that an afternoon in that cottage would have done them a world of good. But they still ended up the same way."
If she was wondering how he and Hermione had not been able to mend their differences during that time in the cottage, Harry was sure that Luna believed them to be in love. He found the idea absurd because that was the farthest thing they felt for each other.
It would be a little too soon for her, and a little too impossible for him.
"He said he slept most of the time they were there," Ron shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the hair at his nape prickle at Harry's scrutiny, "She was concentrated on healing his wounds."
Luna nodded and then sighed as the ball Ron had hit slid into the pocket easily. She allowed herself to smile first at her husband before turning becoming serious.
But what Luna thought of that afternoon in the cottage was the farthest thing in Harry's mind as of the moment, because what concerned him was the fact that Ron and Luna seemed to know much about Hermione's feelings for him.
He wondered whether they also knew the reason, and swallowed at the thought that if they did, they probably knew as well about his past as a dueler.
He heard Luna's footsteps as they neared the door to the balcony. She was standing between the door's frames, and were she to turn her head; she would catch a glimpse of his form. He was glad the night had turned darker.
As if she heard his queries, she voiced out in a breathy whisper. "I still cannot believe that Harry was a dueler."
"Nor can I," came Ron's reply, and he sighed, "I feel guilty having listened to his story that night."
"It was not our fault," Luna said indignantly, whipping about to face her husband, "His voice carried itself out of the study. We did not plan to be there the exact moment it did."
So that was how they know, he mused. He shook his head. It never particularly mattered to him how. What he wanted to know was what they thought of him now. Did they see him as a murderer exactly as Hermione saw him? If they did, how could they even bear to be in the same room as he?
Harry's heart pounded as he waited for what would come as a declaration of disgust.
"I do not blame him, though," Ron's voice rang in his ears, his words catching him by surprise, "I admire him for it actually."
"I do as well," Luna nodded, smiling, "From what I heard, he had to do what he did. He was struggling to survive. Polly Smith is reason enough for me to understand."
Harry sighed inwardly. At first, he thought he had the reason to be mad that they knew. But it had been an accident. All the more reason he should be celebrating, if nothing else. He had actually found genuine concern within these two and he wasn't about to go messing it up by berating them for intruding on his privacy.
"I don't agree entirely with Hermione," Ron began to arrange the billiards set he had left on the table and Luna returned inside to help him, "It was by accident that Harry became involved. He does not deserve to be considered her enemy, when the truth is, Harry was as much a victim as she. Tom Riddle killed his parents as well. He's been through hell because of him."
"Perhaps she should blame it on somebody else. I don't see how she cannot blame Lady Allyson, she had much input in it as Harry."
"Maybe she should just learn to forgive both of them?"
"But it does not really make it better for Hermione, does it?"
Harry's fists clenched at his sides. They were talking about Hermione as if she were made of glass that could break any minute. Her father died, and she was left to care for an entire estate. He could picture how it had been a burden for her. But her solution had been simple. She just needed to learn how to run an estate, the way he had when he was found five years ago.
Sirius told him how Hermione's been through a lot ever since the earl was killed, but no one had given him yet a clue just how `a lot' meant. Was he to assume that it was more than what he made of it?
"But he does not know that."
Unable to keep himself from staying put any longer, he detached himself from the wall he had been leaning on and stepped inside, they had their back on him, and so when he spoke, both jumped in surprise.
"Then tell me."
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