Every parent leaves something behind for their children to remember them by. Lily Evans didn't know, when she left her diary behind, that it would help her son into knowing her and himself…or did she?
Disclaimer: Oh, you know it better than I do anyway.
I'm sorry I didn't post this earlier, but my life got in the way (even if I already finished writing it).
I hope you enjoy, and don't flame me too bad because it's starting to leave the OotP plot, k?
And now, on with the fic.
Harry Potter and the Knowledge of a Mother
Chapter 8: Haunting kisses
As Ginny Weasley made her way to through the school searching for two of the most famous students presently frequenting Hogwarts-otherwise known as Harry Potter and Hermione Granger-she took an exaggerated amount of enjoyment out of taunting her brother Ronald with embarrassing bits and close calls of their Christmas vacation. Most of them were of a rather non innocent nature, and Ginny kept repeating that the only reason for why he, along with his girlfriend Krista, had not been caught had been simply because she liked Krista and had gone out of her way to keep her out of trouble. As for her brother, she had enough material to threaten him into exile for embarrassment or shame if she so wished to.
Since it seemed that neither Harry nor Hermione were anywhere in sight, though, even the 'Make Fun of Ron Till He Passes Out from too Much Blood to the Head' game was getting tiresome. They had already checked everywhere. Now the only two places missing were the Head Girl's room and the Quidditch Pitch. They had absolutely no intention of going anywhere near the latter! That infestation was too sick and scary even for Harry to go near to. The former, however, seemed out of the question as well, considering that both of the missing parties were the worst early birds in Gryffindor, and the sun was far too high in the sky for either of them to still be occupying a room with a bed. And neither was forthcoming enough to use said bed for other activities so early in the day, quite yet.
Still, that was just about their only option, so they headed there anyway.
They arrived quickly, and Ron spoke the password ("Hogwarts: A History") to which Ginny snickered. They weren't expecting to find anything, so they were in for quite a shock when they saw, not only Hermione, quietly sleeping on her bed with Lily's diary clutched to her heart, but Harry, sprawled next to her with an arm over her waist.
"Don't they make a lovely picture?" Ginny pointed out to her brother. As a matter of fact, not only were they both rather attractive people, but they seemed to be made to look good together, and, even from the outside, they radiated an aura of complete love for each other (she'd been filled in by Ron and Krista over holiday).
"They'd make a better one if they were naked," he replied sourly. His sister gasped, he simply shrugged it off. Looking at them, he knew that they had stepped no further into each other's arms than they would off a cliff. At least they could have taken off their cloaks! But no, there was absolutely no real physical evidence of romance between the two, they might as well have been brother and sister. "Come on, let's wake them up," he instructed, and, soon enough the sleeping couple was fully awake and rather embarrassed at having been found in such a compromising situation-from their point of view.
After discussing vacations for a short while Ron spoke up at the mention of Dumbledore's name in an attempt to make the exchange of information casual-and failing rather miserably. "Oh, speaking of Dumbledore," he began, his voice rather squeaky and too high pitched, "I ran into him while I was looking for you," his breath seemed to be coming out a bit short. He was definitely one to count on for subtle hints.
"Oh, you did?" Harry asked, prompting him to continue as nonchalantly as he could.
"Yeah, he said he wants both of you in his office tonight, after dinner," Ron squeaked and heaved a sigh of relief. He didn't want his sister to know that the three of them were Shadow Members of the Order.
"What about you?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows.
"Oh, he already told me what he had to," he replied quickly, "and he said there was something personal, too," at first Ron had been offended by this, but he couldn't go against Dumbledore's wishes, even if it meant being left out. Besides, Harry and Hermione would tell him what he'd say anyway. At least he hoped.
The two just nodded in acceptance and quiet fell over the room as Ginny watched the Trio as though they'd all gone mad. What were they talking about? Ron was sure acting weird.
It had become so quiet as they all sat there absorbed in their own thoughts, that when a light tapping came from outside the window they all nearly jumped out of their skin.
There, in the deadly sting of winter's biting wind storms was an eagle carrying a letter, and trying desperately to get their attention so that they would pull him out of the frozen hell through which he was attempting to keep flight. Ginny went over and opened the window, allowing the beautiful dark predator inside. She took the letter from its mouth, and wondered out loud why anyone would send her an owl (eagle?) there when she noticed that it was addressed to her.
"Maybe someone saw you coming up here," Hermione supplied tartly.
Opening the letter she found out that it had been Draco Malfoy who'd written her (he must have heard her destination when she'd passed the Slytherin dungeons) and he'd bid her to meet him in the library after the evening meal.
"Hermione, do you mind if I borrow a quill quickly?" She asked her friend. The Head Girl nodded, and, taking a quill off her desk and dipping it in ink, she quickly scribbled on the back of the parchment that she would be there, placed the letter back in the envelope, and gave it back to the eagle, who took it. When she'd told him to take that back to his master he looked outside the window with reluctance, but went out anyway to complete his job.
What would Draco Malfoy wish to speak to her about?
°*°
At dinner Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Malfoy get up from his seat and head for the doors while looking nonchalantly over at the Gryffindor table. Their eyes locked for a brief second before he turned to corner, and then, he was out of her line of sight.
Oh, Merlin, what do I do? Do I go now, or wait a little so nobody gets suspicious? I don't know. She ranted off in her head, completely forgetting that she had already had a couple of rendezvous in her life and that this wasn't unknown territory to her. Well, actually, anything that was Draco Malfoy was unknown territory to her.
As she was lost in her thoughts Kevin Creevy placed a rough hand on her shoulder a little too heavily, causing her to fall from her seat. "You 'kay?" He asked her, kneeling down in an attempt to help her, but only managing to get the metal spikes covering the knee of his pants a little too close to Ginny's eyes for comfort.
"Ack!" She screamed, noticing the sharp metal points aiming at her eyeballs.
Kevin didn't seem to notice, and only brought his knee closer trying to inspect Ginny's face better. "You 'kay?" He repeated. "You dun look too good," he said trying to be sympathetic.
Maybe it was the spiky hair, or the gothic necklaces, or the black eyeliner, or possibly the metal spikes, but, in any case, Ginny didn't feel much sympathy coming from him. Backing up as much as she could away from his knee, she stood up, slightly sweaty and a complete mess from her fall. "No, actually, I don't feel too well," she informed him, "I think I'll go now," and with that she practically flew out of the Great Hall doors.
Once she reached the hallway, she slowed to a quick marching step as she made her way to the library chanting under her breath. "Not that scary, we were not that scary, we were so not that scary," she hadn't even noticed that she entered the library. There wasn't anybody there yet. Maybe it had been a hoax. Walking over to a window, the image of Kevin's knee spikes kept on showing in her mind. "No, we were definitely not that scary at their age," she finalised out loud.
"Not as scary as who?" A cold chuckling voice called from behind her, his breath brushing her ear, making her jump a two clear feet in the air with a small screech. Thankfully, Madame Pince seemed to be elsewhere at the moment (so she did leave the library sometime!). Whipping around quickly she realised that: no, it hadn't been her imagination, and; yes, that had been Malfoy's breath she felt at her ear. He was standing a little too close for her comfort. Not that she minded, but the ease with which he invaded her private space was a bit unsettling.
"Uh…nothing!" She answered quickly, pressing her back against the window she'd been facing. Regaining her composure she asked, "What was it that you wanted to speak to me about?" This seemed to make him uncomfortable, as she noticed his superior smirk dim quite a bit. She raised her eyebrows. "Well?" She encouraged him. He still didn't say anything. "What is it, Malfoy?" Her tone was starting to become concerned.
"Well, I…" he began, and then drifted off, trying to find the best way to put this. He cleared his throat. "I noticed that your family owls don't seem very reliable," he began. She snorted. Well, that was an understatement. Errol was holding himself up only thanks to Spellotape, and Pig was too busy trying to keep his balance to remember actually delivering his errand.
"And…" she encouraged, trying to get him to finish.
"And I figured I should give you this, since it was Christmas and all…" he told her. She raised her eyebrows. Give her what? She didn't see anything. And then he whistled and a large, regal, tawny owl swooped down from one of the bookshelves and landed on Draco's outstretched arm (which was equipped to hold him, she noticed sharply). Her eyebrows shot up at this, and he felt the need to explain. "He used to be mine, but I can't take care of him now that I've got Ator, my eagle," he told her. "He's a good owl, but he wants too much attention, and I don't have enough to around," he finished.
She found her hand reach for the owl's feathers of it's own volition. "He's beautiful," she heard herself say. "What's his name?" She asked.
"Sir."
She grinned. "How appropriate," she mumbled, stroking the feathers gently. Sir nipped at her fingers affectionately. "I think he likes me," she smiled up at the blond.
He blushed. "He warms easily to girls," he informed her.
"Thank you," she didn't know what else to say. "I wasn't expecting this," she confessed. He shrugged. "I have something for you, too," she told him. His head snapped to look at her. She found herself flushing as red as her hair. "Well, it's not as grand as Sir, here," she began, "but it might come in handy," she offered, pulling a rolled up piece of parchment from her robes and handing it to him. He took it and unrolled it. It was blank. He seemed offended. "Don't think bad!" She yelled. "I put a lot of work into charming that, you know?" One of his eyebrows raised in question. "For one thing," she started, "it can only be read by the person you wish it to. If anybody else reads it, it's just a bunch of doodles," he seemed impressed. "Also, once it's been read, the ink will be absorbed by the parchment, but if you wish to read a particular message again, you just have to think of it, and the words will be drawn back out," he was definitely impressed now. "And it's charmed so that either you or I could use it," Merlin, was she embarrassed at having to say that! "But if you want someone else to use it, just tell me, and I'll change the charm," she added hastily in conclusion.
He rolled the parchment back up, and bonked her lightly in the head with it before placing it in his robes. "Thanks," he mumbled and she found herself blushing again. "Come on," he exclaimed suddenly, breaking the silence, "I'll show you where he's kept in the owlery," he said, raising the arm that was carrying Sir and heading for the tower where the messengers were kept.
°*°
Harry and Hermione, meanwhile hadn't left her bedroom since they'd come back from training that afternoon, and had been so engrossed in reading Lily's diary that they hadn't noticed they'd skipped dinner.
They were now reading about the Solar Crowning Ball when they came to a point of interest.
The dance was wonderful, I don't think I've ever enjoyed myself quite as much at a social gathering, but that could just be because I'd attended the dance with James, and that, itself, made it special. So often I hear of girls dreaming up the perfect date before actually going to one, yet, once it's over and done with, have nothing but complaints because it didn't live up to their expectations.
Honestly, I didn't have any particular hopes for the night but to be able to snake a couple of dances from James and have a few laughs with my friends, but I got so much more out of it, and James, even though he's only had one day to get ready for it, has gone so much out of his way to make me happy, that each time I looked at him I either felt like smiling like a bloke or start crying. Usually it was one of the two anyhow.
As for Snape, well, he managed to find a date on time (he is a Prefect, after all), but I found that most of the night he spent glaring at James. That of course, was of no use to him, since Sirius had already received the spill from James and had ordered Cicciobello to keep an eye on the Slytherin the whole night. Each time Severus got too close to either of us, Cicciobello would attack, and I must say, he was loving each second of it. I think Jenna fused her photomaker with all the embarrassing moving pictures she was taking of him.
I think they'll all make Gryffindor history.
There was, however, a very low note of the night, and it has to do with the very same Severus. While I was dancing with James, I just happened to look in his direction, and I was hit full on by a vision. I'm glad James was holding me so close, or I would have fallen to my knees.
It was a rather brutal vision. It showed Voldemort (it couldn't have been anyone else even though I only saw the back of his robes and his hand) chanting a spell and pressing his wand onto Severus' arm. Quickly, like ink spilling out of a bottle, Severus' arm was covered in a permanent image of the Dark Mark.
The vision was strong and clear, meaning it was either close to its realization, or past it.
Then it changed, and it showed me Voldemort falling at the end of a baby that in the process was marked with a Lighting shaped scar on his forehead, the same from my previous visions. It's the first time I see how he will actually receive it. After the fall of the Dark Lord, Severus will be forced to make a choice.
I hope the Boy of Lightning will help him onto the right path.
After that, James was at my side the whole night, making sure I was ok, and his care made me forget those visions, but this morning they came back, and I went to see Dumbledore about them. I hadn't spoken to him of my visions since my fifth year, when I realised that the visions about the Marauders should have been kept to myself.
I told him everything from what I saw of Severus, to the boy with the scar.
He was calm however, and told me that he has complete trust in Snape.
I know Severus isn't evil, even though he's not quite charming or great company, but I don't think that we should simply step aside and let him choose the wrong path. However, I realise the Headmaster's right. He's already chosen his path for now, and we won't be able to change it at least for a long while.
We can only watch and pray, just like Dumbledore told me.
Suddenly Hermione cried out, throwing her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide in realization.
"What? What's wrong?" Harry jumped in surprise, looking around to see if there was anything out of place that might have set her off so.
"DUMBLEDORE!" She cried out, her eyes telling Harry that he should know what she was talking about. He didn't. "We were supposed to go see him tonight!" Realisation dawned on him as well, and, as though thinking the same thing, they both bolted out of the dormitories and out of Gryffindor tower. They couldn't run because there would be Prefects about, but they did walk rather quickly.
One they reached the statue they both yelled the password at once, "Sugar Quills!", and made their way up the stairs as though they had Dementors at their heels. They stopped in front of Fawkes red faced and out of breath. Behind his desk, the mad Headmaster did seem rather amused. Standing behind him were Professor McGonagall, who didn't look quite as stern as usual, and a big, black dog. Snuffles!
Just as they thought that he was no longer Snuffles, but a rather healthy looking Sirius Black. He seemed as though he'd been hanging around the house elves for a couple of days.
"Glad to see you two could make it," he mumbled, a jovial grin spreading on his face at the sight of the two that he'd come to think of as his children. Harry and Hermione welcomed him with matching warm grins.
"Very well," Dumbledore began, "as shadow members of the Order of the Phoenix," Fawkes gave a cry at this, "we have decided that for your own protection it would be best that you start a particular kind of training, for you are both students with a high profile," that must have been the reason why Ron wasn't there. He would hate to do anything because someone felt he needed to be protected.
Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement, not bothering to ask which kind of training they would undertake, though Hermione did have a guess. After all, there was only one thing that she could think of that Sirius and McGonagall had in common and they could teach together.
"It had been decided that you will start animagus training," Dumbledore confirmed Hermione's suspicions, "and they shall be your tutors," she'd been expecting that as well.
"We deem it much safer for you, if you were ever to be associated with us, if you were able to leave a situation unnoticed, or, at least, in different forms," the both nodded in agreement. "It could also be helpful in case we need someone to scout for us," that actually made a lot of sense. "Any questions?"
Hermione spoke, "When will we start?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he saw past her cool behaviour, and into the excited child that could never learn enough or too soon. "Your training will start tomorrow with Mr. Weasley as your only other companion."
Again they nodded. "Yes, sir."
Then, he leaned forward and indicated them to do the same. "This shall be kept secret," he stated quietly behind his half moon spectacles, "for your own sake."
Then they were dismissed with a smile, "Go to the kitchens and have something to eat," it was just like Dumbledore to notice that they'd been absent at dinner.
It was useless to say, the prospect excited them both, so excited, as a matter of fact, that, once they'd reached the kitchen and had their fills, they, somehow, ended up having a food fight with the entire house elf population. Ah, they had no idea how the whole fight had started, they were both too giddy at the moment to try and remember, but they were quite enjoying it. Even the house elves, that thrived on work, were having a blast because it meant more work later.
At a certain point, Hermione slipped on some creme caramel that had splotched onto the floor, and fell backwards, grabbing hold of Harry's robes in an attempt to keep herself up, yet only managing to bring him down on top of her in a fit of giggles from the both of them.
The house elves, seeing that the fight was over (after all the instigators had disappeared…under the table), stopped playing around and went to enjoy themselves in their job, completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere at their feet (or maybe under the table it was just too dark for them to see). Within minutes, they had finished, and left to work somewhere else.
All Harry and Hermione knew was that they were now alone, their bodies pressed together so wonderfully that it made them dizzy, still giddy from the food fight, and desperately in need for a kiss, to which, almost instantly the both gave in.
At first it was tentative, with the lingering taste of sweets and pumpkin juice, but soon, they were entwined so desperately that the need for each other was practically palpable. They clung to each other like a drug addict to the first fix after a withdrawal. They'd needed to kiss each other, feel each other physically as they'd wanted to do for far too long, know that there was the possibility of something more than the shadow of friendship that would dissolve if it didn't turn into something more soon.
Their lips met, danced, caressed each other, then parted slightly to accommodate the other's better, and went back to their job of sweetly torturing the other. If Dobby hadn't come looking for them to say good night…well, they didn't know what could have happened, or how the other would have felt once it might have been over.
Slowly and reluctantly they pulled away from each other, pulled themselves out from under the table, and, after saying good night to Dobby, left the kitchens and headed for Gryffindors tower in the most unnerving and uncomfortable silence they'd known in their long years of friendship, both wondering what the other thought of what had just transpired between them.
Finally, Hermione felt the need to speak.
"Harry," she began, and saw him jump out of his skin at the sound of her voice interrupting his thoughts. She cleared her throat. "Harry, listen," she began, but he interrupted her.
"No, it's ok," he reassured her.
"What?" She snapped surprised. Huh? What? What's ok?
"I understand," he stated with a shrug, not once turning to look at her.
"Huh?" She mumbled intelligently. Ok, she was supposed to be the most clever witch in Hogwarts, but she was having a mighty difficult time deciphering Harry's out-of-the-blue sentences.
"I know you didn't mean to kiss me," he told her, finally looking into her eyes, his own dark, hard, and unreadable. "Ever," he added quietly.
"What?" She asked surprised. "Harry," his name came out as a whisper as her mind fumbled for the words that would convince him otherwise.
"No, Hermione, don't worry," he ordered her, making her look at him with her eyebrows furrowed. "I don't want this to ruin us just because we got carried away by the atmosphere," he told quietly.
Now her look was dubious. "What are you saying?"
He raked a hand through his ever messy hair, making it even more disarrayed. "We should just forget about this," he told her, the words sounding more like a sigh that needed to be forced out rather than like a conviction.
"Forget about it?" She asked numbly.
"Yes," he told her. "Starting from now," he specified.
"So," Hermione began, taking a step closer to him, "as of now we're just going to act like nothing was?" She asked, trying to see if she'd got him straight.
"Yes," he assured her with an emphasised nod of the head.
She looked as though she was pondering the situation, then, she looked up at him. "In that case," she started and stepped up to him, putting her hands around his neck and choosing to act rather than finish the sentence with words. She kissed him so passionately that the world began to spin far too quickly for the both of them.
When the two thought they would pass out either from lack of air to the brain, or from sheer need of each other, Hermione pulled away, and a dazed Harry looked at her with glazed eyes and mumbled a strangled, "What--?"
She smiled sadly at him. "Just wanted to have one that I could remember," she told him quietly, and turned to walk up to the Gryffindor tower, Harry staying behind, trying to decipher what she'd said.
In her room, Hermione laid in bed awake at night, thoughts of Harry running through her mind. She remembered Christmas morning, and the look on Harry's face when she'd given him her present. It wasn't much, and she'd enjoyed doing it for him, but the look of sheer joy that he gave her when he began to flip through the pages of his photo album, then one he'd had since first, and that she'd filled with thousands of recent pictures of everyone that he'd loved in the years she'd known him…well, it was a feeling that she wished she could give him every holiday season. And when he'd pulled out the present for her…she looked at the necklace that sat on her night dresser. During the day she never took it off. It was a simple golden chain, with a small sapphire onto it with beautiful celtic carvings. He'd told her that it was made for research. Whenever she was on the right track while searching for something, the carvings would glow white.
And then her thoughts drifted back to the two kisses they'd shared that night, and the ones that had anticipated them. His words echoed in her mind. We should just forget about them. They'd stung, just like the tears threatening to spill over her eyes, but she knew that, at least for the time being, it was the only thing to do. But there were two things that she was certain of. For one, she would never be able to forget those kisses, as he'd asked her to. And two, those kisses would haunt her until she couldn't have another.
In his room, Harry thought the same thing.
To be continued
Author's ramblings: I guess I forgot to tell you that I wrote this in a real hurry, but I did, and so I'm afraid this lacked a lot of the descriptive flourishes I always try to exaggerate with, so I apologise. And, whoo, two kisses between H/Hr! Too bad they weren't very descriptive, sorry.
Anyhow, if you have any comments, constructive critique, flames, anything, please let me know at Robbygal@hotmail.com, or simply leave a review.
Thank you,
Pearl