Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: All characters in this story are the property of J.K. Rowling (well, except one…you'll meet her later). I am merely borrowing them for awhile.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first fic here on Portkey. I started writing it in March, and it's ongoing. On other sites where it's posted, there are more chapters, because many of the chapters (particularly the earlier ones) are on the short side. Some of the chapters have been combined to make the chapters longer (you'll be able to tell where this has happened), and they've been added to in places. Happy reading! Feedback is appreciated!

xoxo Allie

She's My Kind of Rain

She's my kind of rain,

Like love from a drunken sky,

Confetti fallin' down all night.

She's my kind of rain.

The rain fell steadily outside, thunder boomed an ominous warning and lightning struck with a vengeance, but Harry Potter didn't even notice. The raven-haired boy was in his room at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, packing his meager belongings into his trunk. He was leaving the Dursleys' home (although it had never felt like half the home Hogwarts was to him) forever in a few more hours. His elation at this thought could hardly be expressed. He wasn't quite sure where he was going yet, just that he was definitely going. His best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, had planned on staying with him at the Dursleys, but Harry hadn't wanted them to be subjected to his relatives. They had been pretty adamant, but Harry finally persuaded them to spend some time with their families, assuring them that he'd be fine. As it was, he had convinced Hermione to go to France with her parents, and Harry was sure Mrs. Weasley was keeping Ron busy with preparations for Bill's wedding.

"I could always go to Grimmauld Place," Harry thought aloud, "or I could head to the Burrow early. But that would mean seeing..." he broke off as a petite redhead filled his thoughts. It wasn't that Harry disliked Ginny, she was a great girl; he was just afraid of the inevitable post-breakup awkwardness. And there would be awkwardness in abundance. Even more than there would be normally, since Ginny had been owling him constantly, begging to be taken back, claiming that he was playing the hero.

"Well, she would think that, wouldn't she?" Harry mused, "that is why she likes me after all. Because she thinks I can't be happy unless I'm chasing Voldemort," he spat.

Ginny's assessment couldn't be further from the truth. She didn't seem to understand that Harry hated being the Boy-Who-Lived. The real Harry was so very different from the image the public held of him. Hunting down Voldemort didn't make Harry happy. He did it because he knew it needed done, and that he was the only one who could do it. It worried him, angered him and frightened him, but it never made him happy. Harry was only a teenage boy, how was he supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world? He didn't want to be put on a pedestal, and he felt like Ginny had put him up on a high one. Harry didn't like the fame he received, and he had a tendency to keep the details of his life as private as possible. He let his guard down around few people, and really opened up to even fewer. Harry hadn't been able to really open up with Ginny, and Ginny didn't seem to mind. Ginny seemed to prefer a physical connection to an emotional one. Only one girl could see the true Harry, but he tried to push thoughts of her from his head as well, though for a completely different reason....

Harry wasn't exactly sure when he had begun to develop feelings for Hermione. He knew it must have been some time ago, but he didn't really realize what his feelings actually meant until the end of his relationship with Ginny. He supposed it may have started in their second year. On some of the nights when Hermione was petrified, Harry had snuck into the hospital wing alone, where he held Hermione's petrified hand and talked to her through most of the night, read her his homework, and told her how much he missed her. Harry had been so terrified that she wouldn't wake up. If it didn't start then, then it had definitely occurred in fourth year, when Hermione was the only one who believed Harry about putting his name in the Goblet of Fire, and then spent hours helping him perfect a Summoning Charm. I was so blind to take so long to see it. She's the only girl who has always been there for me, and she always will be. She always has my best interests at heart. I can count on her for anything, and I hope she knows that I'd do anything for her.

Harry was also a little hesitant to go to Grimmauld Place though. Harry hadn't been there since Sirius's death just over a year ago, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to go just yet. The loss of his godfather, the closest thing to a father Harry had, had hit extremely hard, and he had found it difficult to express and deal with his grief. It became even more difficult after he had seen Snape kill Professor Dumbledore in the astronomy tower. He figured Remus would probably be there, and he would enjoy seeing him; he just wasn't sure if he was ready or not to go back to a place so full of memories of Sirius. Still though, being back in Sirius's house, even with all the memories, would be so much better than Ginny hanging on me all the time. Grimmauld Place it is, then.

Harry was jolted from his reverie by a soft hoot from the window. A gorgeous snowy owl held a bit of parchment in her beak. Harry ran a hand over her soft feathers as he took the parchment from Hedwig, one of his oldest friends.

"Thanks girl," Harry murmured.

Hedwig hooted softly again before flying to her perch, where she drank from her water dish. Since he had only let Hedwig out to hunt, without a letter to deliver, Harry was extremely curious to find who the note was from. He unfolded the parchment and read the neat, familiar script:

Harry,

Love, Hermione

Harry grinned while he tossed the last of his socks into his trunk (a gift from Dobby, naturally). Grabbing the trunk and Hedwig's cage, he crept silently into the hall, cautiously tip-toeing as not to wake the Dursleys. Once he was downstairs, he walked silently to the front door and opened it to find one of his best friends, who just so happened to be the object of his affection, on the other side. She seemed startled to find the door suddenly open, but grinned at the sight of those familiar emerald eyes. Even though they had only been apart less than two months, it was entirely too long for both of them. Harry stepped back to take in Hermione's appearance. Her normally bushy brown hair was plastered to her head, with a few tendrils curling around her face. Even in the darkness, he could see the deep tan she had developed while on holiday in France. She was wearing a green t-shirt and jeans under a pink slicker, but Harry couldn't help but notice her protruding nipples through the thin, wet fabric of her shirt. Harry couldn't remember a time when he had seen someone look so...well, frankly, HOT, in the rain. What the bloody hell are you staring at her for? She's your best friend! Stop staring at her breasts! But they're so lovely! That's not the point, you're being a perverted prat! Besides, what about Ron? He'd probably pummel you! Probably, but you can't deny she has amazing breasts. Well no, but that's not the point. Oh well...

Hermione's voice snapped him back to reality. "Harry!" she squealed, rushing into his arms. Oh, I've missed him so much! I hope the Dursleys weren't too awful to him; he seems to be alright. He looks amazing. And he seems happy to see me! It feels so good to have his arms wrapped around me. I've really missed this. He smells so good, like cinnamon, Ivory soap and something distinctly Harry. Oh, if I died right now, I'd die happily.

Harry held her tightly, noting that she smelled faintly of vanilla and magnolias. The feeling of her body pressed against his gave Harry chills, and even though he wanted nothing more than to smother her with kisses, he managed to maintain his composure.

"Hermione! What are you doing here? How are you? What have you been up to? Merlin, you're soaked! Come in, but please be quiet. The Dursleys are sleeping."

He heard her mutter "silencio" before she laughed and looked at him again. "Problem taken care of." She cast a drying spell on herself as Harry motioned her to the sofa and sat next to her.

"I know you didn't expect this, so I'm sorry for surprising you-"

"Don't worry," Harry assured her, "it's a pleasant surprise." He caught himself staring at her again, and quickly looked away, blushing.

A slight pink tinged Hermione's cheeks as she continued. "Remus asked me to come get you and bring you back to Grimmauld Place if you were up to it. He didn't want you to be alone on your birthday, and neither do I. Plus he figured you'd need somewhere to go since you would never stay here longer than you had to. He would have come himself, but he's recovering from a nasty bout of...er...wizard's flu."

"That's perfect!" Harry exclaimed, "I was actually planning on going there myself."

"I can apparate us there if you like," Hermione said. "I've gotten the hang of side-along apparition."

"Actually, as the rain's let up,"-a quick glance outside confirmed this-"I was kind of hoping to fly. I know you're not comfortable with it, so you can apparate is you wan-"

"Harry," Hermione cut him off softly. "I won't be afraid if I'm with you."

Her chocolate eyes met his emerald ones as he grinned. She shrunk his belongings as he released Hedwig into the night. After leaving a note for the Dursleys (who he was sure would be very glad to see he'd gone for good), they huddled under his Invisibility Cloak and mounted his Firebolt.

"Hold on to me," he whispered back to her, and she clenched her arms around his waist, her cheek resting softly on his back. She breathed in the soft uniquely Harry scent of his neck and sighed contentedly. Harry pushed off, and they took off into the velvety black sky.

Come Fly With Me

Come fly with me,

Let's fly, let's fly away.

Once I get you up there,

Where the air is rarified,

We'll just fly, starry-eyed.

Hermione's eyes were clamped tightly shut as they made their ascent. Harry, looking back, noticed and laughed softly.

"Hey," he said gently, "it's okay. Open your eyes."

Hermione hesitantly cracked one eye open before opening both eyes widely. As she took in the sights around and below them, she emitted a small gasp.

"Harry! It's beautiful!" The lights from the towns below twinkled against the dark backdrop of the countryside below them. "I never realized that flying could be so exhilarating!"

Harry laughed. "Of course you haven't. You'd have had to have been on a broom sometime since out first flying lesson."

"And how do you know I haven't? Maybe Viktor took me flying sometimes."

Harry felt a twinge of jealousy at the mention of Viktor Krum, but made no comment about him. Instead, he turned to her, one eyebrow raised in an expression of disbelief.

"Hermione, I know you. That in itself is enough to know that this is the first time you've been on a broom in almost six years."

"Okay, so maybe it is. But you should have taken me flying ages ago," she said.

"Like you would have gotten on a broom with me!"

"I already told you, I'm not afraid if I'm with you. You're the best flier I've ever seen, not to mention that I trust you completely with everything. Now if it was Neville, I think it would be a completely different story…"

They both laughed; Neville had always been an abysmal flier, and was much better suited to having both feet planted firmly on the ground, though he had gotten a bit better over the years

Harry suddenly decided to shake things up a bit and show Hermione what he could really do on a broom.

"Hang on tighter Hermione," he said.

"Why?" she asked nervously.

"You'll see."

Once he felt her arms tighten around him, he flew into a loop and then made a small dive. He could hear Hermione breathing heavily, and he could feel her vise-like grip on his waist and her chin sticking into his back.

"Harry James Potter! What were you thinking? You could have gotten us killed!" Hermione squealed in her best prefect voice.

"But I didn't get us killed. And it was fun though, wasn't it?" he asked, tossing her an impish grin over his shoulder.

Hermione found that grin disarming. That boy could cut off my leg and I'd still forgive him. "Well, yes, and it wasn't quite as scary as when we first rode Buckbeak," she admitted reluctantly, "but you could have given me a warning."

"Would you have let me do it if I had warned you?" he asked skeptically, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, probably not. Just don't do it again, I'm feeling a tad queasy. You know I'm not a frequent flyer."

"So," Harry said, "how has your summer been so far?"

"I spent a few weeks in Nice with my parents. Usually we stay in the north of France, so it was exciting to explore a new part of it. My mother and I went shopping, my father took me sailing, and we had some fantastic quiches. But I spent most of my time lounging in the sun, reading."

"You can tell," Harry said. "You've got a great tan."

Hermione blushed. "Um, thanks. I've been at the Burrow for the past week, but Remus came and got me today. I don't think I've ever been happier to see him. That man has perfect timing. Ron was driving me insane, and Ginny wasn't really helping things either."

"What do you mean?" Harry's curiosity was piqued.

Hermione flushed. "It's kind of embarrassing really. I sort of thought that I fancied Ron, so I kissed him to be sure."

"What's so embarrassing about that?" Harry asked, his face contorted in confusion, thankfully not betraying the mixed anger and jealousy he was feeling.

"Oh Harry, it was awful! It was like kissing my brother. The fact that he's a sloppy kisser didn't help much either. He's like a plunger! I felt like a puppy was licking my face. Although that probably would have been more enjoyable. You would have thought that Lavender would have taught him a thing or two when they were permanently attached at the face." Harry laughed at this while Hermione continued. "I guess Ron felt otherwise though, because he kept following me around trying to kiss me. And Ginny, she kept encouraging him. Even though I told her I wasn't interested in Ron, she keeps trying to get me to change my mind. And she wouldn't shut up about you the rest of the time. It's like she wants us to be this fun little group of super couples or something. So between her encouragement and his own thick headedness, Ron doesn't seem to get the hint that I'm not interested."

"Have you said, 'Ron, I don't want to snog you. I would really appreciate it if you would please stop trying to attack my face with your mouth.'?" Harry asked, becoming much more amused by the situation now that he knew Hermione didn't want to be with Ron. She's not interested in him, which is fantastic, but I still feel guilty. It sounds like he's pretty hung-up on her. But it's not like she'd be interested in me anyway, so I guess I don't really have to worry about it.

"Not exactly. I don't want to hurt his feelings, so I've been trying to avoid him. I have dropped several anvil-sized hints though. He just doesn't seem to understand. He really is a daft git sometimes."

"Sounds like an accurate description," Harry chuckled.

"What about you?" Hermione asked. "Why were you going to Grimmauld Place instead of the Burrow? I thought you'd jump at the chance to see Ginny."

"Quite the opposite, really," Harry replied.

"Trying to make the breakup easier on you through distancing yourself from her?" Hermione asked. I bet he still hasn't gotten over her yet. But then again, they did seem to be somewhat serious, so I guess it's understandable. And Ginny's gorgeous, and athletic, and popular. It's not like he'd ever want me after having a girl like that.

"She thinks I dumped her to protect her, which I suppose at the time was mostly true, but I realized toward the end that I didn't really reciprocate her feelings. The night Dumbledore died really made me realize just how precious life is, and I knew that I didn't see myself being with Ginny long-term. Ginny wanted to be with the Boy-Who-Lived, not Harry. I don't want to be someone's trophy, and I can't be with a girl who doesn't want me. I know this probably sounds horrible, but I think Ginny was sort of just a means of release for me. I felt alone with you and Ron constantly rowing, and she took away the loneliness. I'm grateful to her for that, but I couldn't be who she wanted me to be, and I couldn't feel how she wanted me to feel." Harry was incredibly aware of Hermione's soft breasts pressing into his back. This is about as awkward as it can get. Discussing my ex-girlfriend with the girl that I can't stop thinking about. While her breasts are against me. And I'm starting to get an erection. I think this pretty much defines "awkward adolescence".

"That makes sense," Hermione said, feeling much more chipper, "and it doesn't make you a bad person. I'm really sorry you felt so alone. I would never want you to feel like I wasn't there for you. Last year was a bit strange for all of us. Many things about last year are things I wish we could change. But it's in the past. There's nothing we can do about it now. All we can do is be there for each other now."

"And I will be, Hermione. I'll always be there for you." Harry gave Hermione's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I know that Harry, and I'll be here for you too." Once again, Hermione settled her cheek on Harry's back.

The bright lights of London twinkled up at them. "This is absolutely breathtaking," Hermione said softly. "I've never seen anything quite so beautiful."

Harry turned back to her and smiled. "Neither have I Hermione," he breathed, "neither have I. Do you want to make a quick stop? I've heard it's got a great view."

"Sure. After loops and dives, there's not much you could throw at me now that I wouldn't be up for," she said teasingly.

And so they flew, high above London, the city spread beneath them in an array of colors. Faster and faster they went, nearing what was probably the city's most recognizable landmarks.

"Oh Harry, are we really going up there?" Hermione asked, shocked, somewhat frightened, pleased and quixotic all at once.

"Yeah. I bet the views are fantastic."

"I didn't think they could get much better than what we've already seen, but I bet you're right. This is so Peter Pan of you."

"Maybe, but Peter Pan didn't need a broom to fly. And I don't wear tights," he added as an afterthought, as he brought the broom to a halt beneath one of Big Ben's faces. They sat there, floating on the broom, gazing at the most amazing sight either of them had ever seen.

"Say, is that the Statue of Liberty I see over there?" Harry said in what he felt was a very good imitation of a gangster, sending Hermione into a fit of giggles.

"Harry Potter, you are too much! That was one of the most ri--" She was cut off as Big Ben began chiming midnight.

"Wow, that is really loud when you're this close," Harry said.

"What?" Hermione yelled.

"I said, that's really loud when you're this close to it!" Harry yelled back. He decided the best course of action would be to fly away from Big Ben before they both went deaf.

When they were sufficiently out of reach of the clock's dulcet chiming, Hermione said, "Hey Harry, would you mind awfully if we went back up there? The chiming has ended."

I wonder why on earth she would want to go back up there. Oh well, it's not like I'd say no to her anyway. "Sure. As long as you're not planning on tying me to the minute hand or something."

"Why, Harry James Potter! How could you think such a thing?! I'm going to tie you to the hour hand," she said, laughing.

Harry flew back up to where they had been before. "Okay Mione, so what are we doing up here?"

"I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday, and I figured what better place to do it than from the best view in London. So happy birthday, Harry. Here's to a year of humor, happiness and, above all, hope. Promise me you'll never lose any of them Harry."

"I promise," he said, the seriousness of her eyes betraying how frightened for the future she was. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her close to his chest. "I'll never give up. I promise. But promise me you'll be there to help me keep hope, okay?"

"I promise," she whispered. "Happy birthday Harry." She kissed his cheek before laying her head against his chest.

They stayed there like that for what seemed like forever to the two of them, an intimate moment between two friends that needed no words for validation. They both knew the seriousness of the situation looming ahead of them, and both knew the vital importance that friendship would hold in the fight against Voldemort.

Finally, Hermione broke the silence. "Harry, I'm scared." Scared that I'm not good enough for you, and that you already know that. Scared that every time we hug will be the last. Scared that I'll never be able to admit how I feel about you. Scared that we won't be able to defeat Voldemort. Scared that you could never possibly love me like I love you.

"So am I, but it's only natural in our situation. We should probably get to Grimmauld Place. Remus is probably wondering what's taking us so long." She has no idea just how scared I am. Scared that she would never want me. Scared that even if she did, it would be too dangerous to be together. Scared that Voldemort will go after her just because she knows me. Scared that I'm not going to live to be eighteen. Scared that I'll never be able to taste how sweet her lips are. Scared that I'll get her killed, like I almost did at the Ministry. Scared that she might never know just how much I love her, but too scared to tell her. Scared that every moment we spend together might be the last.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Thanks for bringing me up here, Harry. The view is probably one of the best in the world."

"Definitely the best in London," he said, as he flew toward the home of his late godfather.

Harry gently landed the Firebolt in front of 12 Grimmauld Place. Checking to make sure they were alone, he removed the cloak. Hermione smiled at him as he offered her his hand to assist her off the broomstick.

"Since when did you become such a gentleman?" Hermione asked, amused.

"Oh, about twenty minutes ago."

From inside 12 Grimmauld Place, a pair of eyes staring at them through a darkened window narrowed as they watched Harry help Hermione from the broom.