Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note

Finally, another Interlude (alayneni should like that) and this is the longest chapter yet (which should make mani12191 happy) - and a huge hug of thanks and affection is winging its way to Kirsti who miraculously finds time (I'm not sure how sometimes!) to run her inimitable eagle eye over each chapter! You're bloody brilliant dear! Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

FOURTH INTERLUDE

The Ante-Chamber was filled with the sound of eerily muted murmuring, rising from the clustered Disciples of the Dark One, who had gathered together to hear the words of their master; they were all kneeling, facing towards a rough rock wall - with the exception of one figure that stood, its hooded face mere inches from the wall. The chamber was lit by black candles burning in sconces set in the wall behind the kneeling disciples. Their murmuring ceased abruptly as a harsh sound rent the cold, salty air, making the hairs on the necks of those present stand erect. There was a muffled cry from the figure standing at the rock wall, and in the flickering light, glistening droplets of its blood could be seen splattered against the rock. An instant later, the blazing silver outline of an arch appeared in the rock wall and with a barely audible moan, the bleeding disciple stepped into the inky darkness, immediately disappearing from sight. An intense silence settled on the kneeling, motionless figures as they waited…

What seemed an eternity later, there was a distant, stifled scream followed by a barely audible splash before the deep, still silence prevailed once more. A sound like the teeth of a saw scoring metal issued from the darkness, and the head of every disciple dropped to the ground as they were greeted by their master, captive to the sound of his voice as he issued orders and gave instructions...

*

CHAPTER NINE

In which Harry tells Ginny everything, Ginny guesses Harry's secret, Dean goes to the Burrow for dinner and Hermione has a few too many glasses of wine, while Neville ponders his chances with her…

As he sat with Ginny's words hanging in the air between them, Tell me everything, Harry realised he hadn't given any thought as to exactly how he was going to tell Ginny. His gaze dropped and he sat there staring at the table.

`I don't know where to start or how to say it,' he said miserably, suddenly feeling totally inadequate.

`Start at the beginning,' said Ginny and the mixture of tension and apprehension in her voice made him even more aware of the hurt he was about to cause her.

Harry almost groaned. He remembered his own painful realisation of just when it had all begun. Or had it? How long had this love for Hermione been growing without him being aware of it? During the war he'd matured enough to understand that what he'd always felt for his two closest friends was love - and that was what he'd felt for them even before he was old enough to be conscious of that. Now, he couldn't imagine not loving them…not loving Hermione… He wondered at what point in his life his love for Hermione had changed. He couldn't tell - he didn't really know - it was as though it had always been there. And he still didn't know how he was going to explain it all to Ginny. He decided he would just have to start talking and hope the right words came to him.

Harry glanced up at Ginny then, but the sight of her pale face and tense expression was too hard to bear and he dropped his eyes once more.

`I don't really know when it began, Ginny. But I know when I became aware of it. The other night, I was sitting at the table - at home - thinking. I was thinking about something - well, something that had come as a bit of a surprise, I must say. It was very unexpected - I'm still getting used to the idea. During all this, I thought to myself, "but I love Ginny". Yet somehow, it didn't feel right. I didn't feel the way I always used to when I thought of you. I just felt - well, affection and sort of warm and grateful and -'

`Harry,' Ginny interrupted him, her voice choked, `we need to go to your place. We can't talk about this here in case - well, we just need to go to your place.'

Harry knew she was right. Hermione wouldn't want to overhear any of this, he was sure, nor did he want her to. He nodded as he rose, letting Ginny walk ahead of him, opening the door for her. They quickly crossed the hall and Ginny opened the door of Harry's flat, Harry closing it behind them as he waved his hand automatically to light the candles that hovered close to the ceiling; Harry and Ron had chosen that form of lighting when they'd moved in, rather than the more conventional wall sconces, as it reminded them of Hogwarts.

In silent assent, Ginny and Harry both sat down at the table, Harry at the end, Ginny on his left; the table was clear as Ginny had removed the empty bottle of Ogden's and washed the glass Harry had left there the previous night.

`What is it you're trying to tell me?' Ginny asked, and Harry could hear the fear and trepidation in her voice and thought, She knows - or she suspects. His heart sank. He found it almost impossible to continue because he knew it was going to hurt and he didn't want to hurt her. He told her so.

`Harry, look at me,' said Ginny, her voice breaking, her anguish and uncertainty evident.

Harry looked at her. There were tears rolling down her face and he felt his heart constrict at the sight of them. He could see by the look in her eyes that she knew something of what he was trying to say.

He pushed his chair back and knelt down beside her, putting his left arm around her shoulders, his right hand covering her two tightly clenched fists as they rested on the table. Ginny had dropped her head, her eyes closed against the pain she was feeling.

`Ginny, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to - to not love you anymore - not the way I used to - I wish I could! I'd give anything for things to be the way they were, I really would! And I hate hurting you so - I -'

`Harry, stop,' she ground out. "Please! I just don't understand! Why did you stop loving me? Why? What happened? Is it something I've done? Did I do something wrong? Have I done something to really hurt you?'

`No, no! You've done nothing wrong! It's me - I - well, I just…' Harry's voice trailed off. He couldn't tell her he'd realised he didn't love her basically at the same time as he realised he loved Hermione.

`You just what?' cried Ginny wildly, her eyes searching his face. `Fell in love with someone else?'

Harry froze, his eyes wide as he stared at her in shock, unable to tear his gaze away from her - unable to prevent her seeing the answer in his face. Ginny gasped as she pulled her hands away from Harry's. `There's someone else.' It was a statement, not a question.

Harry's mind was spinning crazily. He slowly got to his feet and stepped back, his eyes not leaving Ginny. I can't tell her! She can't know!

`Who?'

Harry shook his head. `It doesn't matter,' he whispered, his voice cracked.

`It does to me,' said Ginny as she also stood up, her eyes boring into Harry's as if she could see the answer written there. `Did she chase you? Did she -'

`No!' cried Harry, shaking his head vehemently. `She doesn't even know!'

Ginny's hand clenched themselves into fists by her sides. `What do you mean she doesn't know?'

Harry pushed both his hands through his hair. `Just that, Ginny. She doesn't know. She has no idea.'

`But you've seen Ron. You've told Ron.'

Harry was caught off guard by the sudden change of direction in their conversation.

He nodded as he said, `Yes.' Then he realised Ginny thought he'd also told Ron who and quickly corrected her. `Not who - who she is - but only that I don't - well, about us. I didn't say anything about anyone else.'

He turned to look at Hedwig who was sitting perfectly still, her large eyes reflecting the candlelight from around the room as she looked at Harry. For one slightly hysterical moment he wanted to say, "But Hedwig knows!'

`And Hermione.'

Harry turned his head back to look at Ginny so fast he almost staggered.

`No!' he cried. Then he took a deep breath as Ginny stared at him. `Well, I told her that I wanted to talk to you and she knows - what about - but I didn't tell her about - well, about anything else, either.'

`So Hermione knows you don't love me anymore but she doesn't know there's someone else?'

Harry winced at Ginny's forthright description. `That's right.'

Ginny stared at him. `So why haven't you told Ron and Hermione who you love now? You tell them everything else.'

`We don't tell each other absolutely everything, you know that Ginny,' said Harry, forcing calm into his voice.

`Why not, Harry? Don't you trust them?' she asked as she walked slowly towards him, her hands still clenched, her eyes almost feverish.

Harry stared back at her, wondering what she was getting at. It was only adding to the confusion he'd been living with for the last twenty four hours. `Of course I trust them - and I trust you. Ginny, I don't understand what -'

And then she was crying uncontrollably, her hands coming up to cover her face and Harry felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him at being the cause of such anguish. He stepped forward and put his arms around her to try and comfort her and Ginny reflexively wrapped her arms around his waist.

`Ginny, don't, please, I know this is horrible - I hate doing this, but - well, even Ron said it would be for the best in the long run - and Hermione -' He stopped, unable to go on. The thought of Hermione was as disruptive as it was soothing.

`Hermione? Hermione said what?' asked Ginny, her voice muffled against Harry's chest.

`Hermione wants to help.'

`Help who?'

`You - both of us!'

Ginny dropped her arms and stepped back away from Harry. `Do you realise that my brother and my best friend both knew before I did? I know the three of you are close - but this, this should've just been between us first, Harry!'

Not knowing what else to do or say, but not wanting to upset her any more than necessary, Harry simply nodded in agreement. Perhaps she's right, thought Harry, although since he'd spent more than half his life confiding in Ron and Hermione, he simply wasn't able to feel that he'd done anything wrong. And then he stood transfixed as a revelation unfolded in his mind: the one you love should be your best friend. And now she is. Hermione had always been his best friend - along with Ron, of course. Never at any time during his relationship with Ginny had he thought of her as his best friend. And you confide in your best friend. Of course he'd confided things to Ginny - but while there were things he'd told Hermione he'd never tell Ginny, the reverse wasn't true. And I do love my best friend. I've always loved my best friend. Now my best friend is the woman I love. As it should be. It somehow felt almost inevitable.

`Why couldn't you talk to me? Why is it Ron and Hermione always seem to come first?'

Not knowing what else to say, Harry told her, `Ginny, you know that's not true!' But it is. The thought appeared matter-of-factly in his head.

`It is! And with Ron away - well, since Hermione first told us about the changes with her and Ron, you've been -' Ginny hesitated. Harry could see the introspection in her eyes as she searched her memory before she focused on Harry once more. `That's it! I was telling Hermione only this morning that there was something about you lately I couldn't put my finger on - but that you'd been different. It started that night we went to the Dragon's Lair for dinner - you were so distracted that night after Hermione told us about her and Ron.' She looked at Harry, puzzled. `Why would that bother you so very much?' she murmured, more to herself than to Harry.

Harry felt dread creep through him. The last thing he needed was for anyone, let alone Ginny, to find out it was Hermione who had claimed his heart. In an effort to divert Ginny's train of thought, he said, `Remember what Hermione said? She said it was because I wanted everything to stay the same,' he offered; with his new knowledge he could now look back and clearly see that that night held the moment that his heart, unbeknownst to him, had recognised what it meant for Hermione to be free - it was just that he hadn't been listening to his heart at the time….

Ginny was watching him closely as he spoke, Harry desperately trying to keep his face deadpan. He saw something in her eyes and he was afraid.

`Is it one of your colleagues at work that you've fallen for?' Ginny asked coolly, as though she was asking a very deliberate question to which she already knew the answer.

Harry quickly shook his head and then wished he could kick himself. Idiot! You're not thinking fast enough! If I'd said yes, that would've been the end of it - she doesn't know most of the people I work with!

`Ginny, it doesn't really matter, does it? Please, let's leave it there, for now. Perhaps we should -'

`It does matter,' said Ginny, her voice cutting across Harry's. `It matters to me. I think I have a right to know, don't you? After all, if you hadn't fallen in love with this other woman, you'd still love me, wouldn't you?'

Harry shook his head slowly. Hermione has always been in my heart, he thought. She was there before you, Ginny. Realising I love Hermione didn't stop me from loving you because I can see now that what I felt for you wasn't destined to last. Of course, he couldn't say any of this out loud, so he tempered with, `But I do still love you Ginny - just not -'

Ginny dismissed his words with an impatient wave of her hand. `Harry, I'm not interested in being loved by you as a friend or a sister! But I am interested in who has taken -'

`No! I told you, she doesn't know and she probably never will! It ends here!' Harry's desperation was fuelled by the growing fear that if this line of talk continued, Ginny would work it out and what would happen then? Harry shuddered. It didn't bear thinking about.

`No, it doesn't end here, Harry! If it's not someone you work with, who else do you ever see that could possibly - I mean you don't ever really see any other women outside of work except - '

Harry watched in silent horror as Ginny's eyes took on the look of someone realising they were staring at the train or car that was just about to slam into them and they were helpless to do anything about it. She shook her head from side to side very slowly, her unmoving eyes not leaving Harry's face. She had snatches of conversation and a collage of images spinning through her head - Harry blaming Ron, not Hermione - Harry wanting to leave early to get home to Hermione - Harry's ongoing resentment of Neville once he found out how Neville felt about Hermione and finally, Harry lying asleep with his head in Hermione's lap while she unconsciously played with his hair…the pieces began to form a pattern and the pattern became a picture and the picture revealed…

`Hermione.' It was the merest of whispers and yet to Harry it sounded as though Ginny had shouted the name into a megaphone. He closed his eyes, his face a mask of anguish as he realised his ability to deny it was non-existent.

`Dear sweet mother of Merlin!' whispered Ginny, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she gasped.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at her. `Please, Ginny, don't say anything, please!' he begged her.

`Does Hermione truly not know?' asked Ginny incredulously, momentarily too amazed by her discovery to yet be hurt or angry by it.

`She has no idea,' he said quietly.

`Do you plan on telling her at some point?'

Harry took a deep breath as he shook his head. `Why would I? She doesn't love me that way. She never will.' She doesn't love me that way. She never will. Saying those words out loud caused a sharp pain to pierce his heart. While they had remained unspoken, he had been able to put them to the back of his mind and avoid the reality that was now unavoidably staring him in the face: living his life without the woman he loved. Living his life alone.

`Sometime in the future, Harry, I may actually feel sorry for you,' said Ginny, her pain once again evident. `But right now I need to go home - to the Burrow. I need to be away from here.' I need my mum…

Harry felt as though he was made of lead, his heart the heaviest part of all. `I'm sorry, Ginny, I'm so sorry - will you be all right?'

Ginny walked past Harry to the door, her voice trembling with sadness and hurt, tears glistening in her eyes, `That's no longer your concern, Harry, is it? Good bye.'

*

Hermione had been sitting in the armchair beside the fireplace in her room, reading, when she'd heard Harry and Ginny leave. She got up and went out to the living room; hearing Harry's door open and close as she passed her own front door, she realised they'd gone to Harry's for privacy; she felt relieved that she wouldn't have to hide in her bedroom for the duration of their discussion and wandered into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, Crookshanks following her and rubbing against her legs.

She smiled down at him. `Like some milk, would you?'

Crookshanks miaowed loudly in reply, making Hermione smile as she bent down to give him a scratch behind the ear. Pigwidgeon hooted excitedly from his perch, earning himself a disdainful flick of the tail from Crookshanks and a promise of an owl treat from Hermione.

A few minutes later, Crookshanks took to his basket for a post-saucer-of-milk-wash and Pigwidgeon struggled with his owl treat which was nearly bigger than he was, while Hermione sat down at the table with her tea and the sandwiches Ginny had put on the table - and of course, her book.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed before she heard someone knock at the door.

`Hi! It's Dean!' came Dean's voice through the door.

`Come in, Dean, it's open,' called Hermione.

Dean entered, smiling at Hermione. `Hi, Hermione! How are you?'

`Fine, thanks, Dean. Come and sit down. Would you like some tea?'

`No, thanks - just had some. I was actually coming about the dinner invitation tonight,' he said as he sat down.

`Oh!'

Dean grinned at Hermione's look of distress. `You forgot, right?'

`Well no - but yes - I mean -'

`It's all right, honestly,' said Dean. `Neville and I were originally getting ourselves over to the Two Hoots for a meal. We didn't have anything else planned, so we'll just stick with that, it's okay.'

Hermione sighed. `It's just that things are a little complicated right now.'

Dean gave her a puzzled look.

`I'm not sure I should say anything just yet, but it's Harry and Ginny. They're at Harry's place now, having a -' she paused, searching for a suitable word, `- a discussion.'

`About what?'

Hermione looked away, a little embarrassed. `I can't really say, Dean, I'm sorry. It's Harry and Ginny's business, really.'

`That's okay - I understand, I know -' began Dean, but he was interrupted by a brisk knock on the door.

`That's probably Neville,' he told Hermione who called out, `Come in!'

It was indeed Neville and after he'd joined them at the table, Hermione apologised about having to take back the dinner invitation.

`Well, are you doing anything then?' asked Neville. `You should come to the Two Hoots with Dean and me.'

`I probably can't, sorry,' Hermione told him. `I think I'll need to be here with Ginny tonight.'

The door opened as she finished speaking and Ginny stood framed in the doorway, looking from Neville to Dean to Hermione, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. No one said a word.

Ginny turned away as she closed the door and said quietly, `I'm going home to the Burrow for the weekend. I'm just going to grab a few things and I'll be gone.'

As she disappeared down the hallway to her room, Dean and Neville turned and looked questioningly at Hermione. Hermione was now feeling horribly worried - she knew Ginny would be upset, but she somehow sensed there was something more to it than that.

`Is Ginny all right?' asked Dean, his voice heavy with anxiety and concern.

Hermione stood up. `I'll just go and make sure,' she told him, equally worried.

When she reached Ginny's bedroom, it was to find her friend throwing things into a suitcase, obviously too upset to use her wand.

`Ginny, are you -'

Ginny span on her heel to face Hermione, surprising Hermione with a dark, intense look. Hermione noticed that tears were still forming in her friend's eyes, then trickly slowly down her already wet cheeks.

`Hermione, I really don't want to talk right now - I just need to go.'

`But are you all -'

`I'm fine,' said Ginny, sounding anything but as she turned back to her suitcase. `Please, just leave me alone.'

`Ginny, are you sure there isn't anything I can do? I really wish I could -'

`Help?' snapped Ginny.

Hermione stood for a second, taken aback by her friend's manner and unable to think of anything to say. Then Ginny straightened up and looking at Hermione over her shoulder, she said darkly, `It's Harry you should worry about.'

Hermione felt her stomach clench with an awful unease at Ginny's words. She swallowed the lump that had appeared in her throat and said faintly, `I'll go and check on him, then.'

`You do that,' said Ginny tersely, as she resumed her packing.

When Hermione appeared in the pointed archway, Dean rose to his feet, his voice tense as he asked, `Is she all right, Hermione?'

Hermione looked blankly at him for a second then realised what he was asking. `I think so, Dean, although she's not herself. You'll have to excuse me, I have to go and check on Harry.'

As Hermione went out the front door, Dean strode across to the hall, making for Ginny's room, leaving Neville to shake his head in bewilderment at all the goings on. Pigwidgeon was still noisily chewing on his owl treat while Crookshanks lifted his head and miaowed sympathetically at a bemused looking Neville.

*

Hermione turned the door handle, knowing it would be open, and peered inside. The floating candles were lit, even though it wasn't dark as yet, and Hedwig was on her perch, her large eyes on Hermione as she stepped inside. Of Harry, however, there was no sign.

Thinking immediately that he may have gone to see Ron again, Hermione made her way down the hall to Harry's room with the intention of checking for his broom. When she reached the doorway, she was startled by the sight of Harry sitting on the end of his bed, shirtless and shoeless, with his head in his hands.

Hermione's heart went out to him. `Harry?' she said softly. `I just wanted to make sure you were all right.'

Harry lifted his head and looked at her. Hermione was shocked at the magnitude of confused anger and despair in his eyes, each fighting for supremacy. As his eyes rested on her, she could see them change, darkening and becoming guarded. Harry stood up, pushing his hands into his pockets. He looked away from her as he said, `I'm not really very good at all right now, Hermione.'

He walked to the window and stood looking out the branches of the white willow, a twin to the one outside Hermione's bedroom window.

Some corner of Hermione's mind noted absent-mindedly that he'd filled out somewhat since the last time she'd seen him without a shirt, a few years previously.

`It's just that Ginny said it's you I should worry about. What did she mean?'

Harry stiffened and without turning, he said, `I'm afraid I don't know.'

They're both acting a little strangely, even allowing for the current situation, thought Hermione. What on earth happened between them?

`Harry, I'm just worried about you - and Ginny. She's going to the Burrow for the weekend - what will you be doing? I mean, I've not got anything on so I can -'

`Look after me, Hermione?' He cast a short-lived, sardonic grin over his shoulder at her. `Not a saving people thing you're suffering from, is it?'

Hermione gave him a self-deprecating shrug and smile in answer, then drew her courage around her and walked across to stand beside him. Looking up at him, she said firmly, `I owe you a few of those saving things, Harry, and whether you like it or not, you're collecting on them. You're coming with me. Although, you might like to put your shirt back on,' she told him with a lift of her eyebrow.

`Oh yeah,' he said gruffly, glancing down. `I was about to get into the shower when - well, it all just hit me and…' his voice trailed off as he shrugged.

`That's fine - have your shower and come over, I'll be waiting.'

She turned and left and Harry watched her as she did, relief swamping him that he managed to not give anything away despite her unexpected appearance, which had set his heart racing madly. He realised sadly that, knowing what she did, Ginny wouldn't have wanted to talk to Hermione or accept any comfort or support she would undoubtedly have offered. But he was greatly relieved and very grateful that Ginny hadn't said anything to Hermione about his - what? My secret, he thought with a self-deprecating grin. Harry loves Hermione. But Hermione doesn't love Harry. Simply splendid.

He sighed as he turned away from the window and headed for his ensuite and the shower. And things just keep getting better, he thought wryly. Now I'm going to be alone with Hermione for the night and that's really the last thing I need right now, while at the same time it's probably the one thing that can make me feel any kind of happy at the moment…

*

When Hermione reappeared, Neville was still sitting at the table, chin in hand, as he flicked unseeingly through the previous day's copy of the Daily Prophet, wondering what the hell was going on. Hermione had run off to check on Harry, Dean had disappeared to check on Ginny and then Ginny had come back into the living room with a small suitcase and a very worried looking Dean in tow. She'd given Neville a tense smile and said goodbye before walking over to Pigwidgeon and telling him to meet her at the Burrow.

`I'll help you downstairs with your suitcase,' Dean had said. Ginny had looked as though she was about to refuse, then changed her mind. `I'd appreciate that, Dean, thanks.' And they'd left. Pigwidgeon had flown to the fireplace, half-eaten owl treat in claw, and disappeared up the chimney while Crookshanks looked on with approval.

`Neville?'

Neville jumped a little, then looked up at Hermione as she stood in the open doorway.

`Has Ginny left?'

Neville nodded. `Dean went downstairs with her.'

Hermione spoke as she crossed the room to stand behind her chair, her voice sounding sharper than she'd intended. `Dean? Did he go with her?'

Neville blinked at her. `Just to help her with her suitcase.'

`Oh, of course,' said Hermione, abashed. `Right, well, Harry's coming over shortly. Is that invitation to go to the Two Hoots with you and Dean still open?' she asked, pulling out her chair and sitting down.

`Of course it is,' said Neville, his heart suddenly lighter at the prospect of Hermione's company.

`I think Harry and I will come, too; I think he needs some company tonight.'

`Hermione, can you tell me what's actually going on?' asked Neville, a concerned frown creasing his brow.

Before Hermione could answer, they heard the door opening and they both turned at the sound to see Dean's head appear around the door.

`I'm just back from Ginny's - I went with her, she seemed awfully upset,' he told them. `Mrs Weasley's invited me to dinner so I'm just letting you know I'll be at the Burrow tonight.'

`Is Ginny all right?' asked Hermione quickly before Dean could go; she was still worried and a little puzzled at Ginny's sudden departure and hurtful rejection of her attempts to comfort her.

Dean shrugged. `Well, when we arrived at the Burrow, she sort of fell into her mum's arms and she was crying a lot.'

`Oh,' said Hermione quietly, thinking that it wasn't that Ginny hadn't wanted to talk to her, it was just that she wanted her mum; quite understandable in the circumstances.

`What happened, Hermione?' asked Dean, fairly certain his suspicions would be proven correct despite Ginny refusing to answer his query as he'd walked downstairs with her.

Hermione looked from Dean to Neville. `She and Harry have just broken up.'

Dean nodded while Neville made a nonplussed "oh" sound.

`Well, I'm off - I'll see you later,' said Dean, giving them a quick wave before closing the door and leaving. He tried not to feel too pleased about Ginny and Harry breaking up as he ran lightly down the stairs, since Ginny was so upset, but a warm glow crept into his heart nevertheless.

Neville glanced across at Hermione and found himself thinking how nice it would be if Harry decided he'd rather stay home and be miserable so that he could have her to himself.

Hermione stood up once more. `Harry should be here shortly - I'll go and get changed,' she told Neville.

`Are you ready?'

`Yeah, I am,' he replied, looking down at his jeans and dark grey and white checked shirt; he was becoming accustomed to Muggle clothing, which seemed to have become more and more common among young witches and wizards these days; Muggle clothing usually proved to be far more practical than wizard robes. `You go and get changed - I'll be here if Harry turns up.'

Ten minutes later Hermione returned, having changed into what Neville thought of as very fetching black jeans with a fitted, long-sleeved powder-blue shirt and a lightweight white jumper slung across her back, the sleeves knotted in front. She'd brushed her hair out and thanks to Sleekeazy's, it tumbled down her back and over her shoulders in a very well behaved fashion. Neither of them noticed the front door opening as Neville rose to his feet, smiling. `You look really great, Hermione,' he said impulsively, his smile faltering at the look of surprise Hermione gave him.

Then she smiled. `Why thank you, Neville - I don't often get compliments like that.'

`You should,' said Harry gruffly as he walked in the front door, `you certainly deserve them when you look like that.' He felt awkward, not quite at ease with his newly single status, especially around Hermione. But he sure as hell wasn't going to let Neville - or any man - better him in the compliments department when it came to Hermione.

Hermione laughed lightly, looking from one to the other. `Why gentlemen, I'm overwhelmed!'

Harry stepped across the hallway and into the living room, his hands pushed into his jean pockets; he was wearing a striped shirt of various shades of dark green that Hermione had given him last Christmas. Hermione met his gaze and Neville looked on enviously as they held a silent conversation; Hermione's look asked Harry if he was all right and Harry's small nod let her know he was. Hermione smiled then and said to Harry, `The three of us are going to the pub for dinner, all right?'

`That's fine.' Harry glanced at Neville. So he wasn't to be alone with Hermione and thought that was probably good and bad, especially since the reason was Neville. `What about Dean? Isn't he coming too?'

Neville and Hermione exchanged glances as Hermione said, `He was invited to dinner at the Burrow.'

Harry stared at Hermione for a moment before saying quietly, `I see.'

Hermione quashed the urge to try and explain it away, knowing it wouldn't help. Instead, she hooked her arm through Neville's, pulling gently as they walked over to Harry so she could hook her left arm through Harry's right. Smiling at them in turn, she said in a bright, determined voice, `Let's go, gentlemen - we're off to eat, drink and be merry!'

*

Harry found himself torn as they sat at a corner table of the Two Hoots, overlooking the village green. The old pub was a wizard establishment, but Muggles naturally weren't aware of this and were served alongside witches and wizards; magic was not allowed until after closing and only then because no sane witch or wizard would want to clean up using Muggle methods. Of course, if anyone inadvertently slipped up, all the staff were well-versed in Memory Charms that Gilderoy Lockhart would've been proud of…

It was late afternoon and the fair on the village green was in full swing. Harry was torn between a fierce desire for Neville to evaporate and an equally fierce desire not to be alone with Hermione because of the danger he felt lurked there. He knew he appeared to be introspective and that Hermione and Neville would assume it was because of Ginny. In actual fact, he found that although he was despondent at having hurt Ginny and no doubt upsetting the whole Weasley clan, he was nevertheless a little relieved that the ordeal of telling Ginny he was no longer in love with her was now behind him. He risked a sideways glance at Hermione, who was sitting to his left; she was watching the fair through the window opposite her, nodding occasionally as Neville explained something to her about his latest research. He moved his gaze to Neville, feeling a jolt when he saw Neville was looking straight back at him, his expression unreadable. They'd been there for less than half an hour and their first drinks were barely half drunk. Giving Neville a crooked smile, Harry lifted his glass of Ogden's and turned to look out the window once more.

Neville lifted his own glass of whisky, but turned to Hermione. `Enough shop talk! What do you think about going over to have a look at the fair after we've eaten?'

Harry turned and looked at Hermione on hearing Neville's query. Despite looking at Neville, Hermione felt Harry's gaze and had a distinct feeling that Harry didn't want to go to the fair again. She smiled apologetically at Neville as she said, `Actually, Harry and I went last night, Neville, so -'

Neville broke in with, `So you don't want to go again - I understand, that's fine. Fair's aren't something you go to more than once I imagine, at least not once you've grown up. What was it like?' He, like Harry, hadn't been to a Muggle fair either, albeit for different reasons.

Harry sat sipping his drink while Hermione told Neville about the fair, grateful for Hermione's intuition.

Was it really only last night? Harry wondered, bemused. It feels like a lifetime ago. He was looking out the window and he could make out the fat man with his wooden stand of stuffed toys - there was a new, large toy dog in place on the bottom shelf, different from the one that was now sitting on his bedside table, still miniaturised. He watched a young man attempting to impress the pretty girl looking on as he valiantly tried to get one of the rubber rings to settle on one of the coloured bottles. I still didn't know then - last night, he thought to himself. It almost seems like another lifetime - when I was with Ginny and Hermione was - well, she was just Hermione. My friend. Always there. Harry put his glass down and leant forward, resting his chin in his hand while he continued to watch out the window. Earlier, after Hermione had left him to have his shower, he'd come to a decision. He'd never been the kind of person to sit by and do nothing and so he'd decided that he owed it to himself to try and win Hermione's heart. He may not succeed, but unless he tried, he'd never know if it was possible - and he couldn't bear to think it might be possible and he'd missed the chance simply for lack of trying. As to how he might go about this, he wasn't yet sure, but he knew he was going to try.

Hermione and Neville's laughter drew him out of his reverie; Hermione had just finished explaining to Neville what Harry had done to win a first prize at the fair.

Hermione turned to Harry, her eyes sparkling with laughter. `Where is my dog, by the way? The one you insisted on foisting on me?' she asked.

Harry gave her a slow smile and said, `Safe and sound. I'll give him to you, don't worry - all in good time.' Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but didn't pursue the matter any further.

They ordered their meals shortly afterwards and when their food arrived they all ate slowly, picking at the various ingredients on their plates since none of them was really ravishingly hungry. They were on their third round of drinks at this point, although Harry, his recent escapade fresh in his mind, had switched to Butterbeer. Neville was sipping his glass of Ogden's very slowly while Hermione was uncharacteristically downing her glasses of wine quite quickly; she'd just finished her third glass and had just politely asked the drink waiter for another.

Harry and Neville exchanged concerned looks, but Hermione smilingly accused them both of being patronising and told them she was quite capable of looking after herself. She then gave a little hiccough, which seemed to belie her assertion and as her fourth glass was placed before her, she said, `I'm perfectly fine, thank you,' with a smile, pushing her plate away, less than half her meal eaten. `I'm just relaxing after a rather trying week.'

`If you say so,' said Harry, although he was beginning to feel a little concerned. `Mind you, we -' he indicated himself and Neville, `could make that claim as well when it comes to a trying week, but we aren't attempting to drink our friends under the table.'

Hermione frowned thoughtfully at Harry as she twirled her glass by the stem. `That is true,' she conceded, `but…'

`But what?' prompted Harry, putting his arms on the table and leaning forward to rest on them as he gazed at her.

Hermione flashed him a rather cheeky grin. `At least I'm not going to be flying off on my broomstick in a less than sober state which would need a miracle to keep me from falling off!'

Harry gave her a lopsided grin, but the flash of pain she saw in his eyes was enough to make her regret her flippant remark. Feeling contrite, Hermione moved her chair around so that she was closer to Harry and leaning over, she put her hand on his arm. `Harry, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry - I didn't mean to -'

`It's all right,' said Harry quickly, `I know you didn't mean anything, Hermione.' He was excruciatingly aware of Hermione's proximity and was hoping with all his might that she would move away now. She didn't. In fact, with a soft sigh, she slid her arm through Harry's and put her head on his shoulder. Harry wondered hopelessly how he would have reacted before - before having you so close or touching me had this effect on me! he thought as he put his hand over Hermione's and gave it a conciliatory pat, desperately hoping he appeared to be behaving normally, murmuring softly that it really was all right. He glanced across at Neville and because he knew how Neville felt about Hermione, he recognised the look in his eyes: Neville was envious and Harry knew he was wishing it was his shoulder Hermione was resting her head on, not Harry's.

Hermione tilted her head and then, to Harry's horror, put her chin against his shoulder, her face so close to his he could feel her warm, wine-tinted breath. Harry turned his head slightly, tilting it up and back so that he didn't touch her; with a half smile as he raised his eyebrows, he said, `Do you think there's a chance you've had just a little too much wine?'

`Maybe,' said Hermione, smiling, but not moving.

Harry turned his head, rolling his eyes at Neville, trying to appear to be an amused and tolerant friend.

`Maybe we should go,' said Neville who was trying to appear as though he didn't really care that Hermione was cuddling up to Harry, wine or no wine.

`I think maybe we should, too,' agreed Harry, turning his shoulders gently so that Hermione reflexively lifted her head, although she left her arm through Harry's.

`I'll just finish this,' said Hermione, lifting her glass with a smile, `and then we'll leave.'

`It's still pretty early for a Saturday night,' said Neville, wanting to remain in Hermione's company, `so what d'you think we should do next?'

Hermione leant forward, drawing Harry and Neville with her. `I could show you my special book,' she whispered.

Even Neville couldn't stop himself from smiling as he sat back. `Hermione, a book? Only you would think of that as fun!'

Harry laughed along with Neville but Hermione was shaking her head at them. `You don't understand, this isn't just any book, no, no, no! This is a one-of-a-kind book. It's a secret.'

`Well that makes it all the more interesting, I'm sure,' said Harry, winking at Neville.

Hermione sniffed. `Fine. I won't show you. What grand suggestions do you two have, then?' And to Harry's great relief, Hermione finally removed her arm from his and sat up; he no longer had to suffer the excruciatingly painful pleasure of having the warm, soft firmness of her breast resting lightly against his arm. It seemed to him that women always underestimated the effect even the slightest contact with that enticing part of their anatomy had on their male counterparts.

While all Harry really wanted was to go home and fall into bed to catch up on his sleep, he wasn't about to leave Hermione alone with Neville, especially not a tipsy Hermione. `What about we watch a movie at my place?' he suggested.

Harry had bought himself a Muggle home theatre system the previous year; he'd never gotten into the habit of watching much television thanks to the deprivation he suffered at the hands of the Dursleys, but he did enjoy watching movies occasionally. While watching a movie at home was also a perfectly normal activity for Hermione, to Neville, watching movies anywhere was a rather peculiar thing to do; he'd watched a movie at Harry's when he'd first bought his system, but hadn't particularly enjoyed the experience, mainly because he'd had very little contact with Muggles and their world whilst growing up, so there was much in their movies that didn't make sense to him. Still, he wasn't about to leave Hermione alone with Harry, especially not a tipsy, cuddly Hermione. He'd also sensed something different about Harry and he could've sworn there was that silent, competitive undercurrent peculiar to males running through the evening - he felt as though he was somehow up against Harry, for Hermione's attention. Although he couldn't for the life of him think why that should be, he put his feeling down to Harry and Hermione's "trio-bond", despite an underlying uncertainty that that wasn't actually the case…

`Can I pick the movie?' asked Hermione innocently, sipping the last of her wine.

`I think we should have a majority vote,' said Harry, positive he wouldn't be able to stay awake if he had to watch something like "Pride and Prejudice", a movie which both Hermione and Ginny never seemed to tire of watching.

`We can't,' said Hermione firmly as she put her empty glass down, `because there are two boys and one girl.'

`How about we decide when we get there?' suggested Neville, smiling indulgently at her.

`Done,' said Harry briskly, not like the quality of Neville's smile. `Let's go. I'll pay on the way out - it's my turn.'

*

While the layout of Ron and Harry's flat was the mirror-reverse of Ginny and Hermione's, its decor was very different. The two women fortunately had similar tastes and so soft pastels and full couches and many decorative items abounded; Ron and Harry's taste on the other hand was far more sparsely modern, partly because there was less to clean and partly because they weren't terribly interested in interior decorating. Not having much choice, Ron had agreed to Harry buying all their furniture on the premise that Harry would keep it if either he moved out or Ron did.

The black leather modular lounge Harry had chosen (`black doesn't show as much dirt', he'd informed Ron with masculine wisdom), was put together in a "U" shape with slightly uneven sides and a low, glass coffee table in the centre. Despite there being more than sufficient room for each of them to stretch out on their own bit of the lounge, Hermione had chosen to sit next to Harry, her legs curled to the side, her head tucked into his shoulder; Harry had both his arms out, resting along the top of the back of the lounge, a remote control in one hand. He'd already lowered the screen down in front of the fireplace after putting the DVD into the player.

He'd given Hermione a quizzical look as she sat down and she'd shrugged as she'd pulled her legs up, a self-deprecating smile in place. `I guess I miss the hugs and cuddles the most,' she said quietly. Neville, sitting comfortably in the corner of the lounge, felt a little despondent as he watched Hermione cuddle up to Harry although realistically, he knew he couldn't expect her to do such a thing with him. Hermione certainly wasn't averse to hugging him, but it was mostly reserved for special occasions like birthdays and such; he was, after all, just a very good friend - he wasn't Harry…

`What movie are we watching?' asked Neville, having left it up to Harry and Hermione since he knew very little about the world of Muggle movies.

`It's the first movie in a trilogy called "The Lord of the Rings". I've seen it before and I'm sure you'll both enjoy it,' Harry told him, although Neville had no idea what a "trilogy" was.

`I've only ever read the books,' said Hermione, surprising neither Harry nor Neville, `but I've heard the movies are good.'

`Let's see then, shall we?' said Harry, as he pointed the remote control at the projector on the ceiling behind them and the haunting strains of the theme music filled the room.

A very drowsy Hermione fell asleep just as Frodo awoke in Rivendell; Harry had been glancing at her frequently and had seen her eyes slowly growing heavier, no doubt mostly weighed down by the wine she'd had. When they closed for the final time, Harry smiled; it felt particularly nice having Hermione snuggled up to him, sleeping peacefully. He wasn't even sure at what point his arm had left the back of the lounge and wrapped itself around Hermione's shoulders, but there it was, holding her securely up against him.

Throughout the movie, Neville's eyes were constantly and compulsively drawn to the sight of Harry and Hermione - Harry's arm around Hermione's shoulders, Hermione's head nestled in the crook of Harry's neck. He felt uncomfortably like an intruder and since he was unable to keep his mind on the movie, now around half-way through, he decided he should leave. He certainly wasn't going to be making any sort of impression on Hermione tonight.

`Harry, I think I'll go.'

`What?' asked Harry, startled, his gaze torn from Hermione as he turned to look at Neville.

Neville stood up, a lopsided grin in place. `I'm going - I've got a long research paper I need to get through before Monday and I think I should get a head start on it.'

Harry lifted his arm from around Hermione, intending to rise and see him out, but Neville waved his hand dismissively. `No, stay there! Don't worry, Harry, don't disturb Hermione. I'll probably see you both soon, maybe tomorrow - good night!'

As Neville made his way down the stairs to his own flat, directly beneath Harry's, he pondered on what he'd seen - and he wasn't thinking about the movie… He'd watched Harry watching Hermione and he'd seen Harry's arm drop slowly from the back of the lounge to curl around Hermione's shoulders. Neville wondered if Harry was even aware of what he'd unwittingly divulged with that simple, tender gesture.

As he opened his front door and stepped inside with a habitual "lumos", he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He crossed the room to his large, rather ornate wooden dining table (given to him by his grandmother) on which were set dozens of rolls of parchment in an orderly fashion - the old research paper he needed to read. He sat down and picked up the last parchment he'd been reading, unrolling it and putting the two, very old, house-elf shaped paperweights (also given to him by his grandmother), on the top and bottom of the parchment before proceeding to read the first line of spidery, crabbed writing four times before giving up in disgust.

He sat back and rubbed his eyes, then stretched, smiling as his tortoiseshell cat, Trevor, wandered around the kitchen bench, having left his basket to wind himself around Neville's feet; his toad, Trevor, had gotten lost years before and stayed lost, perhaps deliberately, as neither had felt they'd ever truly bonded. Trevor-the-cat, so named because Neville knew he wouldn't forget that name, jumped onto his master's lap and settled down. He purred contentedly as Neville scratched him gently behind the ears while thinking how much nicer it was patting a cat than holding a toad; he'd always envied Hermione at Hogwarts after she'd acquired Crookshanks.

`Well, Trevor, old boy, it looks as though I've got a rival in the quest for Hermione's affections and it's none other than Harry Potter himself. He's just broken it off with Ginny and d'you know, I think he and Hermione have been friends for so long, I wouldn't be surprised if Harry's not even aware of his feelings for her. But you should've seen him tonight. So, what d'you reckon old friend? Do I stand a chance?' Trevor opened one lazy eye, looked up at Neville and gave him an encouraging miaow. `Thanks for that probably misplaced vote of confidence, Trevor,' smiled Neville wryly as he once more bent to tackle his task of reading.

*

Harry knew that if she asked, he would tell Hermione he'd let her sleep because he didn't have the heart to wake her, knowing it was really because he was enjoying holding her that he sat until the movie ended. He spent most of the time gazing at her rather than at the screen and then, as the credits came up, he knew he could put it off no longer and reluctantly began to wake her up.

As Hermione slowly came to, she sat up, yawning. She rubbed her face, then looked at Harry who was smiling.

`Hi, sleepyhead,' he said, unable to keep the tenderness out of his voice.

Hermione gave him a soft, sleepy smile before glancing at the credits that were still rolling up the screen. A slight frown creased her forehead as she asked, `I slept through the movie?' As she turned back to Harry, she noticed Neville was gone. `And where's Neville?'

`He went home a little while ago - some research paper he has to read by Monday. I don't think Neville's ever really going to be a movie fan.'

Hermione stood up, unaware of her avid audience of one as she lifted her arms above her and stretched sinuously. `That'd be about the ingredients for the new potion. He's really putting a lot of work into that.'

`Would you like a cup of tea or coffee before you go?' asked Harry hopefully as he stood up.

`Tempting, but I think I need to get to bed. My head still doesn't feel right. I can't believe I drank virtually a whole bottle of wine!'

`Not as bad as drinking a whole bottle of Ogden's,' commented Harry dryly.

Hermione chuckled in response as she moved towards the door, Harry following. `Will you be reading your special book - the secret book you told us about?' he asked teasingly.

Without warning, Hermione froze in her tracks and Harry stumbled into her, instinctively grabbing her shoulders for balance. They managed to stay upright, but the grin on Harry's face disappeared when Hermione turned to face him.

`What did you say?' she asked, her eyes wide in her white face.

`At the pub, you said you'd show Neville and me your special book. You said it was one-of-a-kind and a secret. I was just wondering what it was about.'

Hermione's hand flew up to cover her mouth as she looked at Harry, aghast.

Harry was baffled by her reaction. `Hermione, what's wrong?'

`It's just that I promised the person who gave me that book that I'd never mention it to anyone. I can't believe I did that and I haven't even read it yet!'

`I'd say it was the wine talking, Hermione. Don't worry, I won't mention it ever again if it's that important to you.'

`It is, and thanks, Harry. I hope Neville forgets what I said,' said Hermione anxiously as she reached the door.

Harry shrugged as he leant around her to open the door. `Chances are good he might - he didn't take you very seriously at the time. If he says anything to me I'll tell him, all right?'

Hermione turned to smile up at Harry. `Thanks again Harry. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night.'

Harry wished she'd hug him or kiss him on the cheek again, but he wasn't so lucky this night; Hermione simply smiled, waved and left.

As Harry turned away after closing the door, he heard the window open and Hedwig flew in, fresh from a hunting session.

`Hi, girl,' he said as he walked towards her. `Have a nice night?' Hedwig fluffed her feathers and blinked at him once. `I'll take that as a "yes",' he told her with a smile. He stopped at the end of the bench and saw the roll of parchments the desk-witch at the Prince of Wales Wizard Hotel had handed to him. Deciding he owed the writers the courtesy of reading them after they'd gone to the trouble of leaving them for him, he slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen bench and unrolled the letters, tapping them with his wand to charm them flat.

He was in turn amused, exasperated and embarrassed by the contents of the various notes, but as he added one to the growing "read" pile from the young waitress who'd served their breakfast at the hotel, his eyes fell on the unpleasantly grey-coloured parchment beneath it covered with black, uneven, scrawled writing.

The Disciples of the Dark One are rejoicing for they have at last found the Enemy.

You, Harry Potter, are the Enemy.

You committed an unforgivable act: You vanquished the First Disciple of the Dark One and in doing so, condemned the Dark One to the Abyss.

Through the devotion of his Disciples, the Dark One has been resurrected and now retribution can be exacted from you.

We, the Disciples of the Dark One, inform you thus so that when firstly, those close to you die and at the last, you die, you will know at whose hand and why.

Retribution begins.

As his eyes followed the words back and forth across the page, his heart turned to ice in his chest and he felt dread and horror seep through him - not for himself, but for those close to him, those he loved. And most of all, for Hermione…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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