Healing

DonovanPotter

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 03/09/2007
Last Updated: 26/10/2007
Status: completed

Chapter 13 - twenty years have passed and Harry's baby is going to Hogwarts for the first time. It's time to say goodbye...

Chapters

1. The Return

2. An Understanding

3. Ron

4. The Weasleys

5. Help

6. the Truth

7. Rock Bottom

8. Ginny

9. Surprises

10. Crossing the Line

11. The Healing of Hemrione

12. The Healing of Harry

13. Epilogue

1. The Return

A/N – I’m back!! This story started with the thought of, what happened with Hermione’s parents? And when I started to write this, I realised just how many holes in JKR’s whole ‘sending the Grangers to Australia’ scenario like – what happened to all their friends and family back home? How about documentation, was it all forged? How about their careers, do they stay dentists? If so, would they also have to have false educational credentials? The more I thought about it, the more I thought that doing what Hermione did would be pretty impossible, or if possible, something she couldn’t do with Ministry help.

Anyway, that’s what got this story going. I’m up to chapter 7 on paper and chapter 9 in my head. I think it will be about 10 chapters long. No horrible Ron or Ginny this time around and although it starts with the canon pairing, it won’t end that way. Needless to say, I’m ignoring the epilogue.

Hope you enjoy and I should update in a couple of days.

“Hermione!” Harry exclaimed as he opened his door, “you’re back!”

“Er, yeah,” she replied, somewhat hesitantly, “um…can I come in?”

“Of course,” Harry said as he moved out of the way and let Hermione into number twelve, Grimmauld Place, frowning as she passed him.

Hermione was supposed to be in Australia, bringing her parents back to England. She had been gone for two months now and he hadn’t expected her back for another few months; yet here she was, on his door step, looking terrible.

“Ron’s not here,” Harry told her as she stood dejectedly in the hallway, “they’ve all gone on holiday to France for a week…”

“I know,” she said sadly before looking up at him, “Harry, can I stay with you for a little bit?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” he frowned again, “no problem. Kreacher!”

Harry called out to his house elf and in an instant, Kreacher was standing before him.

“Yes, Master Harry?”

“Could you please take Hermione’s bags to the other bedroom we’ve cleared?” Harry instructed, “she’ll be staying with us for a while.”

Recognition and inbred disgust of her blood status flared in the elf’s eyes, but he held his tongue and even gave Hermione a short, awkward bow.

“Of course, Master Harry.”

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Harry asked his guest, who had stayed silent, staring unfocused at the carpet in front of her, “Hermione?”

She blinked as she recognised that Harry was in fact talking to her, and with a tired smile, she nodded her acceptance. They made their way to the now cosy kitchen where Harry bustled to make the tea, trying to work out what he was going to say to her – something was obviously very wrong.

“How was Australia?” he asked as he sat down, placing a cup of tea in front of her.

“Lovely,” she said as she held her mug tightly in both hands, her eyes glistening with tears, “brilliant, actually. Mum and dad live in this fantastic place that is only ten minutes from this amazing beach. They have heaps of friends and they’ve both settled into brilliant jobs in the city. They’ve even brought a dog.”

“A dog?” Harry repeated and, as if on cue, Crookshanks sauntered into the room looking for food but saw Hermione instead. He meowed his welcome and she smiled the first real smile Harry had seen since she arrived.

“Crookshanks!” she cried, putting down her cup and opening her lap for her furry companion, who jumped up and began purring at his masters manipulations, “you’re here!”

“Yeah,” Harry explained, “we thought, what with one thing and another, he’d be better here than The Burrow. He’s been keeping me company.”

“Brilliant,” she mused, “oh I’ve missed you so much!”

Harry watched Hermione cuddle her cat, his frown deepening as she started to silently cry into Crookshanks long fur.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?” he asked, concerned, “what’s happened?”

“They’re not coming back,” she sobbed quietly.

“What?”

“Mum and dad, they’re not coming back. They’re staying in Australia.”

Her face was hidden in her cat’s neck as she held Crookshanks tightly, finally letting him go when he began to squirm out of her embrace. Not looking at Harry, she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand before once more holding her cooling cup of tea.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” Harry consoled, not really sure what he should do but knowing she required some form of comfort, he scooted his chair closer to hers and took one her hands, squeezing it to let her know he was there. After a few moments, she began to speak.

“They were so happy, Harry,” she told him, “they had this whole other life without me. I knew they would, of course – I mean, I had removed all traces of me from their lives. But to see them smile and not worry…”

“Did you remove the spell?”

“Yes,” she sighed, her eyes glistening again, “and they were so understanding, like they always are. They told me about what they had done for the last year – we spent two whole weeks just catching up.

“But as I listened to them talk about their new jobs, and how they fell in love with their new dog the moment they saw him as a puppy at a friends house and all this other…inconsequential rubbish that was their lives, I realised we had nothing in common any more. I was such a different person from their little girl that they remembered. I am such a different person…

“I couldn’t tell them about what we did last year only that you won, that we fought and you won…”

“We won,” Harry interjected, getting a small glance from her before she went back to staring at her cup.

“…I really thought they just wouldn’t understand. So I decided that I couldn’t ask them to give up everything for the second time. I couldn’t ask them to come back home just for me…”

“You could stay with them,” he suggested half-heartedly.

“No, I couldn’t,” she stated, looking up at him as she started to cry once more, “it was alien for me down there, everything was so…bright! And I’m not that person any more! I’m not the person who can just run away and live with my head in the sand.

“I wasn’t their daughter any longer. I had to let them go.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, though part of him already knew what she was going to say.

“Philip and Helen Granger were killed while in Australia, their bodies incinerated beyond recognition,” she mono-toned, her tears quickly drying up, “their only daughter, Hermione, luckily survived as she wasn’t in the car at the time it crashed. She brought back their ashes a month ago.

“Wendell and Monica Wilkins had been great friends with the Grangers, all being ex-pats, and have promised to keep in touch with Hermione when she returned to England.”

“You re-modified their memory?” he wanted to confirm.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, “their life in Australia is as the Wilkins, who are childless.”

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” Harry repeated, realising just how inadequate those words were – she had just lost her parents.

“I’ve spent the last month at home, packing up then selling our house,” she continued sadly, “I organised a memorial service…”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Harry cut in a bit more sharply than he meant to, “we would’ve been there to help you! Ron could’ve…”

“Ron is dealing with the death of his brother,” Hermione interrupted, “and you’ve got your own things to deal with. I needed to do this on my own.”

Neither of them spoke as they both got lost in their thoughts. Harry couldn’t quite believe that she had gone through what must have one of the worst experiences of her life without either himself or Ron.

“The thing is,” she said after a little while, her voice small and timid, “I…I have no where to live now. I could’ve stayed in the house, but it had so many memories and I couldn’t afford to pay the mortgage or bills or anything any way. And…and I haven’t got much money until the will is cleared…”

She broke down and sobbed then, hiding her face in her hands. Harry had seen her cry before, too many times during their hunt for the horcruxes to count, and he knew he had been less than adequate when it came to supporting her when she had needed him. But this time he didn’t think twice about holding her to him as she cried, her arms eventually circling him, hugging him closer.

They stayed like that until her tears finally subsided and she pulled away from him, sniffing and wiping her eyes with a handkerchief that she had.

“I’m so sorry,” she sniffed, “I didn’t mean to…I mean, I know you have your own things to deal with. It’s just that, I…I have no money, no job, nowhere to live – I don’t know what to do…”

“You could always live here,” Harry suggested immediately, blushing when she looked at him, “I mean, there’s plenty of room. You could do what you like to one of the bedrooms and I’m slowly getting rid of the many disgusting books in the library so there would be room for your books and stuff there,” he paused when she continued to look at him in total shock, “er…only if you want to, that is.”

“Live here?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “why not? And you’re one of the smartest witches in England, Hermione, I know that there’s a million jobs at the Ministry you can do. You can come in with me on Monday and see Kingsley if you like.”

As she thought his offer over, once more looking down at the cup sitting in front of her on the table, he looked at her, really looked at her.

She was exhausted, he could see that easily – the large black smudges under her eyes giving it away. And even though she had spent a month under the sun in Australia, she was pale with her usual lively hair caught in a lank ponytail, hanging down her back.

The worse thing was, however, the way her cheeks were now hollow and how her arms were so terribly thin. And how her eyes, when they did look into his, no longer had their intelligent glint.

It was like something had died inside of her.

Perhaps it had.

“I…I would really appreciate it, going in with you to the Ministry,” she finally said, glancing at him briefly before returning her gaze to her cup, “and thank you for the offer to live here. I…I’m not sure, I don’t want to intrude…”

“You won’t be intruding,” Harry cut in.

“Can I think about it?” she asked, tentatively, “and let you know?”

“Of course,” he answered, giving her what he hoped was a nonchalant smile when she quickly looked at him again.

“Thanks,” she uttered, taking a deep breath, “I…I’m pretty tired. I might just go and have a nap for a bit…”

“Sure,” Harry assured, leaning back in his chair and giving her the room to stand so she didn’t have to touch him, “Regulus’s room is the only other bedroom we’ve cleaned so that’s where your bags are,” she nodded in understanding, “do you want to be woken for dinner?”

“Um, no…if you don’t mind,” she muttered, “I…I’ll come down if I’m hungry. I just need to rest for a bit.”

“Okay,” he agreed as he watched her make her way to the door, noticing how her clothes were hanging off of her, “sleep well.”

She nodded and gave him the briefest of smiles before going up to her room, leaving a worried and confused Harry sitting at the table.

When Hermione had left, things had been pretty tough. The Weasley’s had closed ranks when dealing with the death of Fred and although both Ron and Ginny tried hard to include Harry and Hermione in their lives, it hadn’t been easy.

Added to that was the knowledge that pretty much every part of the wizarding world had been destroyed in some way by Voldemort and his followers. There were many dark wizards still roaming and not nearly enough Auror’s to catch them. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been appointed temporary Minister and quickly began restructuring the Ministry in a more positive way. Every able-bodied witch or wizard joined in the exercise of rebuilding their world.

Two weeks after the death of Voldemort, the nightmares had begun for Harry, breaking into his dreams nearly every time he closed his eyes. The dead, blaming him for letting them down, visited him – many were nameless faces but some were not. He couldn’t talk to either Ron or Ginny about it as their brother were one of those who haunted his nights.

And Hermione had gone to Australia.

His lack of sleep made him short-tempered which in turn caused things to be strained between himself and Ginny. When they did meet, she would talk of her family and he would listen with sympathy because they had lost one of their own.

Sometimes he wished she would dig a bit deeper when he evaded her questions on how he was, that she wouldn’t just accept it when he said he was fine – he was in fact anything but. Still, she had been a comfort during the last few months although he had to admit that there were now seeds of doubt, that Ginny wasn’t as perfect for him that he once thought.

Things for Ron and Hermione also seemed to have halted somewhat. Her decision to go to Australia once the funerals had ended caused some resentment in Ron as he had wanted her to stay with him to help him cope without Fred.

Harry knew it was because Ron was scared of losing Hermione as well, that her being so far away from him was going to be difficult. Yet Ron had returned to form and accused Hermione of deserting him when he needed her the most, hurting her and making her departure even harder.

She still left, however, and it was Harry that saw her off at the airport.

Thinking back on that now, Harry remembered that even then she had been quiet and subdued. He had thought it was because of the argument with Ron and the fact that she was anxious of seeing her parents for the first time in a year but perhaps it was something more, something else, because the Hermione he had just met wasn’t the Hermione he knew.

Sighing, he got up and made his way to the library. He had already cleared quite a few shelves but if Hermione was to live here, he knew he would need to clear quite a few more. With his mind still pondering what had just happened, he set to work and for the first time in a long while, he thought of something else besides himself and the horrors in his life.

2. An Understanding

A/N – not so many hits for the last chapter, I have to work on my little previews!! Oh well. Sorry this is a day late, I climbed up the volcano that sits in the middle of our harbour yesterday (very much dead volcano, I must say) and was absolutely knackered so hence, this is a day late. Thanks for your reviews. A few of the comments raised a point that will make this story one or two chapters longer! Thanks for taking the time to review, I do really appreciate it. Right, here we go!

An Understanding

Sunday morning arrived and as Harry made his way down to the kitchen for his late morning breakfast, it was to see Hermione busily packing a lunch around the equally busy Kreacher making his breakfast.

“Good morning, Master Harry,” Kreacher welcomed, alerting Hermione to his presence.

“’Morning Kreacher,” Harry replied, sitting down just as the house elf placed the customary bacon, eggs and toast in front of him – his usual Sunday fare, “’morning Hermione.”

“Hey Harry,” she smiled, still looking exhausted even though he hadn’t seen her since she left mid afternoon yesterday, supposedly to sleep, “late start?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, stuffing some eggs into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he continued, “always sleep in on a Sunday. Where’re you off to?”

“Thought I’d do some sight seeing,” Hermione told him, sitting down in a neighbouring seat, “I haven’t really looked around London for ages and I thought I’d do something fun, get my mind off things.”

“You know something,” he mused out loud, his piece of toast half way to his mouth, “I’ve never had a good look at London. Do you fancy some company?”

She looked as if she was going to say no, but then changed her mind and gave him a hint of a grin.

“Sure.”

It was nearly seven that evening when they re-entered Grimmauld Place, tired but happy. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he had had so much fun just being normal, doing normal things. He and Hermione had gone pretty much everywhere, joining in the throng of summer tourists easily. As the day had progressed, Hermione had smiled more and slowly became the girl he had known for so long.

They collapsed in the drawing room talking about their day and Harry felt content. Crookshanks came in and sat on Hermione’s lap while Kreacher served them some butterbeers and snacks. It was a few hours before conversation began to dwindle but instead of feeling uncomfortable, Harry felt exactly the opposite. Hermione got out a book she had just bought and started to read it, disturbing Crookshanks, who made his way onto Harry’s lap instead.

Harry began to feel sleepy, the activity of the day catching up with him, and before he knew it, he had dozed off. It wasn’t long before the images that so often invaded his dreams began to disturb him. Visions of the snake emerging from the open mouth of Dumbledore danced in front of his closed eyes, the body of his old headmaster melding into Lupin before splitting into two so both Remus and Tonks stood before him, both taunting him of how he failed them. He tried to tell them he did the best he could, but they wouldn’t listen, their ghostly images angry and disappointed.

Harry pleaded to them, begged them to accept his apology, but they just shook their heads, advancing on him – their eyes red, with slits as pupils. He tried to run…

…and fell off his chair, a concerned Hermione kneeling over him, holding his hand. He snatched his hand away embarrassedly, scooting back into his chair and making sure he didn’t look at her.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “nightmare.”

“Are you okay?”

It was a question she had asked him thousands of times but for some reason, this time seemed different. This time there was no fear or reproach just the same concern but also an…understanding. Harry frowned and looked at her, forgetting his own problems immediately.

“Hermione,” he started, pausing as she went back to her seat and took a deep breath, “are you having nightmares too?” After a brief hesitation, she nodded. He thought hard, running a hand through his hair as he did so, and suddenly a few things clicked into place. After a moment, he asked quietly, “how long?”

“I haven’t slept a full night since Remus and Tonks’ funeral,” she told him with a sigh.

“Neither have I,” he admitted and she looked at him then, a sad smile dancing on her lips.

“What do you see?” she whispered.

“Normally the dead,” he told her as if he was talking about the weather, “telling me how I let them down, or how there’s nothing left for me to do so I should join them. Sometimes Voldemort. Sometimes just monsters and bad stuff,” he paused then asked, “how ‘bout you?”

“Sometimes I see you dead. Sometimes it’s Ron. Sometimes even mum and dad,” she admitted quietly, “but most of the time it’s Malfoy Manor and the pain …”

Harry felt guilty, so very guilty. He had forgotten how Hermione had been tortured to the point of unconsciousness; all because of his own stupidity…

“Don’t Harry,” she said suddenly.

“What?”

“Don’t blame yourself or whatever it is you’re doing.”

“It’s just that,” he tried to explain, “I’ve never asked you about what happened, we’ve never talked…”

“Because you had other things to do,” she frowned, “other priorities. That’s why I didn’t tell you about mum and dad until…until I couldn’t be on my own any more. You’ve been through so much, I didn’t want to add to it. I don’t want to add to it.”

“Why do you always put me first?” he suddenly blurted out, his frown matching hers as he tried to catch her eye.

“I don’t always,” she countered with a blush, looking down at her lap.

“You do for the important things,” he argued, “you stayed with me when Ron made you chose, you’ve been tortured, you’ve put yourself in danger time and time again because I asked you to. Even before that, during Hogwarts, you’ve broken school rules for me, you’ve stood by me when no-one else did – you even went to every one of my Quidditch games when you hate Quidditch! Why? Why are the horrors you’re going through and the sacrifices you’ve made any less than mine? I don’t understand why my problems are more important to you?”

“Because you’re my best friend,” she replied weakly.

Harry would say he knew Hermione, knew her very well. He had seen her in every possible situation from full fledged anger to insecure shyness, but he had never seen her like now – small, meek…delicate.

“I’m worried about you,” he said softly.

“What?”

“You come here when you should be in Australia,” he began as she looked up at him with her dead eyes, “only to tell me that you’ve been back for a month without telling anyone and have buried your parents and sold your family home. You’re way too skinny and you’ve haven’t slept for over two months. You look terrible, Hermione. And I’m really worried about you.”

She looked at him and he could tell she was thinking, debating over something in her mind as she unconsciously chewed her bottom lip like she always did when lost in thought. He let her, not speaking but not looking away either. After a few minutes, she spoke.

“I want to tell you not to worry,” she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper, “that I’m fine. I want to make you talk to me about your nightmares so we can work through them and make them disappear so you can get your nights back and begin to live the life you deserve. I want to tell you all of that Harry – but I can’t.

“Because I’m not fine, I’m anything but fine and I can’t do this on my own any more. I thought I could, that I could make the nightmare’s disappear – but I can’t.

“Everything…everything is just…piling up, I guess. Burying Fred, then Remus and Tonks, seeing little Teddy alone…and then Ron…Ron not understanding why I had to leave,” she paused as she wiped away some of the tears that had begun to fall, Harry just watching in guilty silence, “I had tried to get myself ready to see mum and dad, I thought I would be able to cope with seeing them without them knowing who I was, but it was horrible! When I removed the spell, they were so happy to see me, they didn’t seem to care that I had basically taken their lives away from them and given them new ones!

“But every time they asked me how one of their friends back home was doing, or told me of some of the difficulties they faced moving to a new country on the other side of the world, I felt so terribly guilty! I kept telling myself that I did it for their own good, that they probably would’ve died if they had stayed in England but…but I had taken everything away from them! What gave me the right to do that, Harry? I didn’t even give them the choice!”

For the second time in two days, Harry went to his friend and took her in his arms as she cried, soothing her as best he could.

“I just seem to cry all the time,” she sobbed into his shoulder, “I know it’s because I’m so tired, but…but everything…it’s all too much! I feel like I’m this weak, useless, pathetic little girl who can’t look after herself!

“I have no appetite, no desire to eat. In fact, I have no desire to do anything! I don’t know what I want to do with my life any more! It’s like…it’s like I’m a shell and I don’t know how to feel…”

“I know what you mean,” Harry finally said, stroking her hair gently.

“You do?” she asked, looking up at him with watery eyes before smiling slightly and returning her head to his shoulder, “of course you do. You’re probably one of the few people who can truly say that.”

“Everyone expected me to be an Auror,” he told her with the slightest of sneers, “and everyone expects me to help lead the Ministry, to be the one that gets the wizarding world back on their feet. They’re still looking to me for answers but the truth is, I don’t have any. I’m just a teenage boy who doesn’t know how to do anything but bumble my way out of dangerous situations.”

“Harry…”

“No, Hermione,” Harry interrupted, pulling away from her slightly so he could look into her tired, yet familiar eyes, “everything you said, about feeling guilty, about everything being too much, about not knowing what you’re supposed to do with your life – that’s me! Everyone expected me to be an Auror, so that’s what I’m doing. Everyone expected me to date Ginny, so that’s what I’m doing! But I’m not happy, and I don’t know how to be.

“Today, today was the first time in years where I was relaxed and not worrying about tournaments or Horcruxes or Umbridge or Voldemort or even the Weasleys. Today, I had fun.”

“Me too.”

“You and me, we can get through this,” he said quietly, “neither of us are alone any more…”

“But, you’re not alone,” Hermione frowned in confusion, “you have Ginny…”

“Just as you have Ron.”

“They don’t seem to understand, do they,” she admitted after a moment.

“No, they don’t,” Harry agreed with a small nod.

Neither spoke as the sat there, wrapped up in each others arms, both lost in thought. Harry had said more to Hermione in the last few minutes than he had said to either Ron or Ginny in the last two months. He wasn’t sure why he was alright at opening up to Hermione where it was so difficult with anyone else. He guessed it was because it seemed she was feeling the same as him, feeling the same sense of loss, the same lack of desire.

He realised, after a while, that Hermione had fallen asleep, exhausted from so many things. He re-arranged himself on the couch she was sitting on so that she was leaning against him, her head still on his shoulder and her arms loosely around his neck. In her restless sleep, she groaned a bit as she got more comfortable, yet her breathing remaining slow and regular.

Harry briefly thought of taking her up to her bedroom and putting her to bed, but decided against it. He wanted her to sleep. So instead he rested his head on top of hers and closed his eyes, thinking about what had just happened.

He thought of Hermione over the years, of how she had changed from the book-worm, bossy know-it-all to someone he couldn’t imagine his world being without. As he thought of all the times they had spent together, he realised how much he had taken her for granted, how he just expected her to know the answers, to have read the right book with the solution to what ever problem they were facing.

He realised that what he had said before was true – she has always been there for him, always. He also realised how things had changed between them during their sixth year at Hogwarts and then again last year. He puzzled over why that was.

A new image hit him, making his eyes snap open. He saw it clearly; Hermione being hit by a spell and falling, as if dead, in front of him at the Ministry of Magic in their useless attempt to save Sirius. How could’ve he forgotten that? He thought hard but couldn’t recall him ever talking to her about it, if she had any side effects from the multitude of potions she had been made to drink to get her well again. Both she and Ron had been hurt badly during that whole, messy affair.

Because of his stupidity.

Just like how she was tortured at Malfoy Manor.

Because of his stupidity.

Harry hugged her tighter to him and she moved slightly, burrowing her face into his neck. How many times had she nearly died because of him? Too many. Ron too, injured when they went to get the Philosopher’s Stone, with the attack by Aragog, the Ministry of Magic…

I’m such a prat, he thought angrily to himself, an arrogant, selfish prat. Oh, and don’t forget stupid! I could’ve got them killed so many times because I didn’t have a clue!

Closing his eyes once more, he vowed to himself that he would no longer take his friends for granted. Ron would be back from France in a week, reuniting with Hermione after two long months apart. Harry thought of ways he would show them both how much they meant to him, how much he appreciated that they were his friends and how much he treasured their friendship.

He smiled to himself as his mind moved on to the day he just had with Hermione and how much fun it had been. As drowsiness began to muddle his thoughts, it was happy images that invaded his dreams this time, his head dropping to the side to rest on the top of the head of the young lady still safely secured in his arms.

3. Ron

A/N – thank you all for your wonderful comments. I guess I should warn that this is probably going to be a bit sad and angsty for most of the story until the end because, unlike JKR, I don’t really believe that teenagers (well, anyone really) can get over so much death and loss by just a few comments and stray thoughts. This is a story about their growth from the horrors they’ve been through to young adults able to live normal lives. I hope that doesn’t turn some of you away. Anyway, here we go. A bit of a pratty Ron, but he doesn’t remain that way, I promise. Thanks again for the reviews.

“Wake up, Master Harry.”

Harry forced his eyes open and saw the large eyes of his house elf peering into his face. Blinking and sitting up, Harry stretched, used to this routine since he started working at the Ministry one month ago.

This time, however, something was different. He was fully clothed for one as well as being in the drawing room instead of his bedroom. Taking his glasses from Kreacher, who was waiting at his side patiently, he glanced around and noted he was on a larger version of the couch and had been covered with a blanket from his own bed. He saw there were two pillows at the head of the makeshift bed, this observation making something click in his brain.

“Where’s Hermione?” he asked nervously.

“The Miss woke up ten minutes ago and is now having a shower,” Kreacher informed him, “although Kreacher told her you normally shower first, she would not listen to Kreacher.”

“She can have a shower first, that’s fine,” Harry told the elf absently, “er – what happened?”

“Kreacher came to tidy the drawing room and found Master and the Miss on the couch,” Kreacher explained as he scurried around collecting the bed clothes, “so Kreacher made the couch more comfortable.”

“Right,” Harry replied, still lost in thought, “thanks.”

He had slept with Hermione. Sure, they were clothed and sure, neither were aware of it at the time – but he still slept with Hermione.

In the same bed.

As he made his way upstairs to his room to get ready for work, he kept telling himself that it didn’t matter – he had slept in the same room with Hermione many times, especially in the last year. Granted, never in the same bed but sometimes, especially when it had been cold, it had been close. Sort of.

Besides, nothing happened. Okay, so he had been holding her in his arms when he must’ve fallen asleep and yes, it had been the best sleep he’d had for a very long time – but that meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

Except the thought that kept going through his mind as he got ready for work was that Ron better not find out.

He made his way to the kitchen to see that Hermione was already there, drinking a cup of tea and looking rather smart in a straight skirt and crisp white blouse. She looked up as he sat down to the plate of toast and jam Kreacher had gotten ready for him, a slight blush touching her cheeks. He didn’t know why he also felt slightly embarrassed but determined to let her know everything was fine, he started to tell her the plan for attack once they got to the Ministry.

Half an hour later, they stepped out of one of the many floos connected to the main atrium at the Ministry of Magic, joining the other workers for the start of the working week. Harry waited as Hermione took in her surroundings – the grand water fountain that dominated the atrium when they came to the Ministry a couple of years ago was gone. So was the degrading statue that had been there during the short reign of Voldemort. Now there was a wall carved with the names of those who had lost their lives in the latest struggle, a constant veil of water running down its smooth surface.

Hermione made her way to the monument, casting her eyes over the thousands of names, then bowed her head as she said a small prayer. Harry watched in silence, himself remembering those they lost with a wave of the ever present guilt that seemed to follow him everywhere.

When Hermione finally glanced at him, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. He gave her a supportive smile, then took her hand to lead her through the thin crowds and up to the new Minister of Magic’s office.

When the doors clunked open at the first floor, what lay before them was organised chaos. There were groups of people mulling over large charts that hung on the walls, depicting all the wizarding sites in Britain damaged by Voldemort’s regime. Many of the villages were named as was Hogsmeade, St Mungo’s and Hogwarts.

The biggest list was for the Ministry itself and it was there that most of the activity was focused. Kingsley Shacklebolt was in the middle of it all, his large frame dominating. A few of his workers noticed Harry and Hermione’s arrival, signalling to the busy Minister of his visitors, his face breaking out into a broad grin when he realised who they were.

“Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” he welcomed, shaking Harry’s hand warmly before turning to Hermione, his smile fading, “I’m so sorry for the loss of your parents, Hermione. I hope the Ministry was able to make the unfortunate situation somewhat easier for you.”

Harry frowned slightly, cutting in on Hermione before she could reply to Shacklebolt.

“You told the Ministry but you didn’t tell us?” he accused, glaring at her – she glared back.

“I needed their help to ‘kill’ my parents,” she snapped, “death certificates, insurance claims – that kind of thing. Sorry for not including you, Harry!” She scowled at him for a moment longer before taking a calming breath, turning from him and addressing the Minister, “yes, thank you,” she said politely, as if her outburst didn’t happen, “the Ministry of Australasia were very helpful.”

“That’s good to hear,” Kingsley replied gently, following her lead and ignoring her spat with Harry, “again, my condolences. Never something easy to go through.”

“No,” she told him shortly, glancing at her shoes in an attempt to hide her tears.

Harry felt his anger subside as quickly as it had come, recognising just how stupid he was. Berating himself, he again came to the realisation that Hermione had been through a traumatic experience and really, he wasn’t making it any easier for her.

“Now,” Kingsley continued, once more beaming, “I’m hoping you’re here to apply for one of the hundreds of jobs currently vacant within the Ministry because we could really do with your talent, Miss Granger!”

“Um, yes,” she said shyly, “yes – Harry thought I might be able to find some work…”

“Well, Harry isn’t wrong,” the Minister agreed, leading them over to the large board with ‘Ministry of Magic’ emblazoned at the top, “you could always join him and Ron in the Auror department – the Trio together again…”

“No, actually, I don’t want to keep fighting,” she admitted quietly and once more Harry took her hand in comfort.

“Totally understandable,” Kingsley sympathised, “well then, perhaps the question should be – what do you want to do? Because I can almost guarantee that there will a job open in whatever area you want to enter into.”

“Er,” she started, glancing uncertainly at Harry, who gave her an encouraging smile, “um, I would like to help getting equality for the other magical creatures that are looked down on by wizards, like…like house elves. I know it sounds rather silly…”

“It’s not silly Hermione,” Harry encouraged, “we wouldn’t have won if it wasn’t for many of the races that wizards have subjugated for ages. They need a voice.”

“I agree with Harry,” Kingsley smiled, “so you’d like to work with wizarding laws and such like, especially surrounding the equality of magical races?”

“Yes,” she affirmed, then with a quieter, “if possible.”

“It most certainly is,” Kingsley stated, turning back to the large board, “we need more than a little help in our legal division. However, we may need to start you in an introductory level, just until you find your feet. I’m sure with your intelligence, it won’t be long before you are able to work your way up the ladder.

“Right,” he paused slightly, studying the board, “I think Dotty Sidewalker would love to have you as her assistant.” With a quick nod to an aid, who had been hovering discreetly around them, a memo was dispatched and Hermione’s name was included on the short list in the International Magical Office of Law. “I’m afraid we can’t afford to pay you much,” he continued, looking back at Hermione, “our coffers are a bit depleted at the moment, but I assure you that once the Ministry gets back on its feet, you will get a substantial pay rise.”

“Oh, money isn’t an issue,” Hermione said quickly, before blushing and glancing at Harry, “I mean, as long as I can pay my way…”

“Money isn’t an issue,” Harry repeated firmly.

“Excellent,” Kingsley beamed, “why don’t I get Smithers here to introduce you to Dotty and you can get started. I suspect you will need to take part with the many trials that are happening down at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, plus the many regulations that are coming about with the Ministry restructuring, but in time we will need to look at the relationships with our magical brothers. I’m sure by then, you’ll be well versed in current wizarding law.”

“Thank you, Kingsley,” Hermione gushed, “I really appreciate this opportunity…”

“Goodness, Hermione, it’s me who should be thanking you! The brightest witch of her age is an asset to any team!”

“You sound surprised that you have a job,” Harry added, nudging Hermione playfully.

“It’s just that,” Hermione confessed, blushing once more, “I don’t have my NEWTS…”

“There is a whole group of students that don’t have qualifications,” Kingsley countered, “like so many things, we have adapted. Now, there is one thing that I am insisting on and it is no different for you.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“That you only work a forty hour week.”

“Oh, I don’t mind working longer,” Hermione assured quickly, “I know there is so much to get done…”

“That I know, Miss Granger. But you also need to regain your life,” the Minister instructed seriously, “no one is to work more than what is decent, that is something I insist on. We will get things back in order, of that I have no doubt. But our people have been through a shocker of a few years and the need to be with those who are close to us, rebuild our own lives, is just as essential as rebuilding the world in which we live. Therefore, you are to work only forty hours a week, okay?”

Hermione nodded her acceptance and once more Kingsley broke into a broad grin.

“Brilliant,” he smiled, “now, I must dash, I have some other matters to attend to. Good luck with your new job, Hermione. Good to see you again, Harry.”

With that, they were dismissed, Smithers joining them as they made their way to the lifts

“How can he expect people only to work forty hours?” she whispered to Harry, “there’s so much to do!”

“And it will get done,” Harry whispered back, “you heard him. He’s pretty strict about it so don’t start getting ideas.” He glanced at his watch and saw he was already ten minutes late, “look, I have to go. How ‘bout I meet you for lunch?”

“Okay,” she replied nervously.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured her with a smile, “I’ll see you for lunch, okay?”

Harry left her as he made his way to his corner of the Ministry, smiling as he thought, after all this time, Hermione still had her insecurities about her abilities – just like her OWL’s all over again.

Four hours passed of him and a fellow Auror going over some surveillance wards that had been activated at one of the chambers within Gringott’s so the break to have lunch with Hermione was welcomed. As he sat down with her in a Muggle café not far from the office, he couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm as she described her job.

By the end of the week, things had settled down to a routine of going to work, eating and sitting down in the evenings and reading. They didn’t talk much and if they did, it was about the Ministry. Harry didn’t bring up the nightmares (or the night they spent together), and neither did Hermione but he could tell they hadn’t disappeared for either of them.

Colour had returned to his friends’ face but the haunted look never left her, even when she was excited by something she had learned at her job. When Saturday arrived, Hermione seemed to retreat further into herself. Harry was confused – Ron was due home that evening and he would’ve thought she would be excited to seem him again after all this time.

By two o’clock, he couldn’t stand it anymore and asked her if she wanted to go to the markets with him, thinking that they had had so much fun the previous weekend when looking around London that another trip outside might cheer her up a bit. She quietly consented and with a sigh of relief, they left Grimmauld Place to wander around the local outdoor market and after a little while, she finally began to enjoy herself.

They were back in the kitchen, going over their purchases, when the fireplace turned green and Ron stepped out. His arrival coincided with Hermione trying to get back her new hat from Harry, who was holding it above him, well out of her reach. She had just climbed onto a chair so she could grab it when Ron stepped into the kitchen.

“What’s going on here?” he snapped, startling Hermione from her perch as she turned from Harry, her hands still resting on his shoulders.

“Ron!” she welcomed, hastily stepping from the chair to hug him, “you’re back!”

“So are you, it seems,” he grumbled, “how long have you been here?”

“Um, a week,” Hermione answered uncertainly, “Harry’s let me stay here…”

“I’m sure he has,” Ron continued to growl, glaring at Harry, then back to Hermione, “so you’ve been back from Australia a week then?”

“Actually, a…a month.”

“A month!” Ron cried, “but you decide to show up when I’m not here? Typical!”

“What’s your problem?” Harry asked, his own anger beginning to build, “Hermione’s been through a lot…”

“I bet she has,” Ron sneered, “and I bet you’ve been here, ready to comfort her! I can’t believe that I actually trusted you! That I believed all that rubbish about you loving her like a sister! What a load of bullshit! The moment my back is turned, you’re living together!”

“Shut up Ron,” Harry hissed, advancing on his friend, “you don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“I don’t, do I?” he spat back, “I know more than you think. I’m out of here!”

With that, he turned on his heel, ready to floo back home.

“Ron…” Hermione pleaded, but didn’t move to stop him. He looked at her dismissively.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, “’bye, Hermione,” and in a flash of green, was gone.

Harry went to her side, ready to put an arm around her shoulders in comfort but she quickly moved out of his reach and turned to face him.

“Did you really tell him that?” she asked quietly, her tears already forming, “that you loved me like a sister?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, confused, “when we opened the locket, the Horcrux told him that we were cheating on him behind his back, that you liked me and not him. I set him straight and said that you were like a sister to me and I was like a brother to you,” he paused as she seemed to flinch, her eyes leaving his, “I mean, that’s how it is, isn’t it?”

For the briefest of moments, there was silence – which confused Harry even more.

“Yes, of course that’s how it is,” Hermione agreed finally, looking up at him as she did so.

“Don’t worry about Ron, I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Harry tried to reassure, “are you okay?”

“Yes,” she repeated, “yes, fine. I…I think I might go to my room and…and think about things for a bit. Work out what to do next…”

“Things will be fine,” he continued, giving her what he hoped was a comforting smile as she gathered her things together, “you and Ron have been through worse.”

“I know.”

“Will you come down for dinner?”

“Sure,” and with that she was gone leaving a very confused Harry standing alone in the kitchen.

4. The Weasleys

A/N – hope you like this chapter as I’m a bit unsure how some of you will take the reactions of those who star in it. Oh, I guess I should warn you that there is H/G in this chapter. Thank you again for your lovely reviews. Enjoy.

Chapter 4 – the Weasley’s

When Harry made his way down for breakfast, he was anxious – and he was early. But it seemed he wasn’t early enough as only Kreacher greeted him, handing him a short note from Hermione telling him that she needed some time alone to think about things and that she’d see him later.

Sighing, Harry sat and ate his breakfast, wondering where Hermione may of gone before thinking about what he’d say when he talked to Ron. He also remembered that he was to meet Ginny today as well but strangely that thought didn’t capture him as it usually did – he was too worried about his two best friends.

Sighing again, he flooed to The Burrow and was directed by a busy Mrs Weasley to Ron’s room, where he was still encamped. Hoping he wouldn’t see Ginny on the way (and was relieved that he didn’t) Harry knocked on the closed door of the attic bedroom.

“Go away,” Ron shouted grumpily.

“Ron, it’s me,” Harry told him, “open up. We need to talk.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you!”

“Well, I’ve got heaps to say to you,” Harry growled, “and if you continue to be a git Merlin help me, I will blast your room apart!”

Harry heard the door unclick and with a certain resolve, he made his way inside. Ron was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and didn’t acknowledge Harry’s presence.

“Why do you always do this?” Harry asked after a moment, his voice hard.

“Do what?” Ron sniped, “I haven’t done anything.”

“Jump to the wrong conclusion then open your fat mouth without thinking.”

“You’re living with my girlfriend,” Ron spat, “and she shifted in while I was away. All a bit convenient, isn’t it?”

“She shifted in because she had no where else to go,” Harry explained with little patience, Ron finally looking at him, “her parents didn’t come back from Australia, she’s had to sell her family home and basically pretend her folks are dead. So when she turned up on my doorstep asking for somewhere to stay, I didn’t stop and think, ‘blimey, I wonder if Ron will approve?’”

“Her parents didn’t come back?”

“No.”

“Bloody hell.”

Ron sat up, his anger forgotten as he mulled over what Harry just said, his concern all over his face. Harry just stood and watched, glad that Ron finally saw sense.

“Is she alright?” Ron asked finally, looking at Harry worriedly.

“No, no she isn’t,” Harry said with a sigh, sinking into the chair by the desk, “and I’m worried about her. It didn’t help with you acting like a bloody idiot. Blimey Ron, what were you thinking?”

“I…I don’t know,” Ron cried, hanging his head down morosely, “I guess…we’ve hardly spoken since she went away and things were so horrid between us when she left. Then seeing her laughing with you like that, it just brought all these…I’m really sorry Harry. I know you’d never do anything with Hermione behind my back.”

“It’s not me you should be apologising to,” Harry told him, “she was really upset, Ron.”

Ron didn’t say anything but Harry could tell he was thinking hard. He frowned impatiently as he waited for Ron to finally speak.

“Can…can I talk to you?” Ron said timidly, glancing at Harry, “and you promise not to kill me?”

“Kill you?” Harry repeated, his frown deepening, “what’s going on?”

“Promise me, Harry,” Ron pleaded, “‘cause I really need to talk to someone and, well, you’re my best friend.”

Harry looked over at Ron warily, wondering what was the matter. But Ron was right – they were best friends.

“I won’t kill you,” he said finally, “I promise.”

Ron nodded absently, took a deep breath then said, “I think I like someone else.”

“You’ve cheated on Hermione?” Harry roared, standing and glaring over at Ron, his promise quickly forgotten as the urge to throttle the quickly paling redhead clouded his brain.

“No!” Ron exclaimed, backing away from Harry to the other side of the bed, “no, I would never do that!”

Harry stopped, his fists clenched at his side as he glowered at Ron.

“Explain,” he snapped.

“There…there’s so many things,” Ron stammered, once more thinking – momentarily forgetting the angry man on the other side of the bed, “but I guess it started when she went away.

“I didn’t want her to go. I thought that she’d leave and never come back, that she’d want to stay with her mum and dad and fall for some tanned lifesaver or something. She wrote to me a few times, but I didn’t write back. You know what I’m like with that sort of thing,” he glanced uncertainly at Harry with a small grin – Harry just stared back. With a grimace, Ron continued, “things here were horrible. Mum just kept crying all the time while George…George didn’t know what to do with himself. It was like half of him was missing, which, I guess, it was.

“I spent a lot of time away from The Burrow, just walking around and thinking. When I was at work, it was fine but at home…

“Anyway, one day I bumped into Luna…”

“Luna?”

“Yeah,” Ron replied thoughtfully, “it seems she didn’t like being inside for too long after being held captive for months. The thing is, we started talking and for the first time, I felt like someone actually understood me. We kept meeting up and chatted. After a while, it wasn’t just about war stuff but other things as well.

“It was so easy with her, Harry,” Ron stated softly, once more looking at Harry, “I didn’t have to watch my words, or worry if I would say something thick. I just spoke. I was just me and Luna seemed to be okay with that. With Hermione, it’s like I’m always trying to be someone better, something more. I mean, we started getting on really well last year, but…”

“But what?” Harry prompted, getting caught up in the story, his anger ebbing away.

“It wasn’t me,” Ron admitted with a shrug, “it always felt awkward I guess. But she loved it, she started to look at me like I was something and not just an idiot. And after a while, it started to feel less…awkward. The thing was, every time I forgot about what I should do or say, we rowed.

“With Luna, it doesn’t matter. Plus, I don’t have to compete with you.”

“You don’t have to compete with me, Ron,” Harry frowned, going back to his chair by the desk, “how many times do I have to tell you – there’s nothing going on between me and Hermione!”

“I know, I know,” Ron assured, grinning sheepishly, “you love her like a sister. But you always come first, Harry. And you didn’t see her when we thought you were dead. Mate, she lost it big time. I think I knew then that I’d always be scared that I’d lose her to someone better because she and I – well, we’re not a team, you know? It’s different with Luna. It’s better with Luna.”

“So why did you act like such a prat last night then?”

“Because when I saw you two laughing together like you were,” Ron explained, “I thought of what it’s like with me and Luna.”

“You felt guilty.”

“Yeah.”

“You need to tell Hermione,” Harry sighed, thinking about how his already fragile friend may take more bad news, “and you need to apologise for yesterday.”

“Even with…with everything else going on,” Ron ventured uncertainly, “blimey, Harry – her parents…”

“I know,” Harry agreed, running a tired hand over his face, “but you need to do this. She deserves the truth, Ron. Just…just be a bit sensitive about it, okay? Actually think before you speak.”

“Right,” Ron replied, suddenly standing as if a man on a mission, “is she at Grimmauld?”

“No, she left this morning,” Harry sighed again, “I don’t know where she went.”

“Oh,” Ron frowned, thinking “okay. Er…is it alright if I go and wait for her? You’re staying here to see Ginny, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

With that, Ron left, leaving a weary Harry sitting alone at Ron’s desk. He wasn’t surprised, not really. Though he had seen the relationship building between his two best friends for quite a while, he didn’t really understand it. They were too different but he thought they made each other happy.

Now Hermione had another disappointment to deal with.

“There you are!”

The sound of Ginny broke into his thoughts, startling him as she came into the room.

“Hey Gin,” he welcomed as she came and kissed him, “how was France?”

“Amazing,” she beamed, taking his hand and leading him out of Ron’s room, “I have so much to tell you! Let’s go a for a walk outside so we can catch up properly. I didn’t believe Ron at first when he said you were up in his room! I mean, I thought the first person you’d want to see would be me, especially since you saw Ron last night.”

“Well, Hermione and Ron had a bit of a row,” Harry tried to explain as he was pulled through The Burrow and out into the back garden, “and I needed to see Ron about it…”

“Hermione’s back?” Ginny questioned as she intertwined her fingers with Harry, slowing down to a stroll before shrugging dismissively, “and she and Ron are always fighting over one thing or another. They’ll work it out.”

Harry didn’t comment as Ginny began telling him about the family trip to France. He barely heard what she was saying, only really picking up that Mrs Weasley is now ready to move on and George had decided to carry on the joke shop in Fred’s honour – everything else seemed unimportant.

As he listened to her chatter about the shops and the sights of Fleur’s family village, he started to feel angry again. They were out of sight of The Burrow, walking towards a favourite snogging spot when his anger finally got the best of him.

“Do you even care why Hermione’s back?” he asked her, interrupting her story about making friends with a local girl.

“Pardon?”

“Hermione,” Harry repeated angrily, “she’s back and you haven’t asked if she was okay. I thought you two were friends.”

“Well, I assumed she was okay,” Ginny replied, annoyed, “because otherwise you would’ve said something…”

“I haven’t had much of a chance.”

“Excuse me?” she spat, stopping and glaring at Harry, her hands on her hips and her eyes blazing.

“I said, I haven’t had much of a chance to say anything,” Harry told her, ignoring her glare, “you’ve been so intent in telling me about all the fun you’ve had in France…”

“I’m sorry if the excitement of getting away from this place where the memories of my dead brother are everywhere, where my mother bursts into tears every time she sees something that was Freds’. I thought you’d enjoy knowing that our family is finally starting to heal after losing someone we loved…”

“Don’t try the guilt thing, Ginny, because I’ve had two months of being there and supporting you while your family works through losing Fred,” Harry shot back, “I’m glad you’re all able to start to move on – that’s great. But what about me? What about my healing? What about your friends?”

“Every time I ask you if you’re alright, you say yes, that you’re fine…”

“Can’t you tell that I’m not fine?” he asked, grabbing hold of her arms and making her look at him, “look at me Gin, really look at me – what do you see?”

“You…you look tired,” she attempted, no longer angry but more scared – Harry let go of her, “but Harry, you’re so strong! You saved us! You can handle anything that…”

“No, I can’t,” Harry interrupted, turning away from her, “I’m not the hero you think I am, Ginny. I’m not unbreakable, untouchable.”

“I know you’re not, Harry,” she said softly, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, “and I’m sorry for not realising that you need some support too. I’m here to listen if you want to talk.”

Harry didn’t say anything as he stared out onto the sloping green fields. In two days time, Ginny returns for her final year at Hogwarts and here he was asking her to try and understand what it feels like to be him – about making the choice to be a sacrifice, about dying yet not dying, about watching people that you love taken away from you one by one. About growing up in the most brutal way possible.

She was only a year younger than him, he knew that, and she had also experienced pain, loss and sacrifice. But would she understand? Could she understand? He suddenly felt so much older than her and in his heart he knew that things had changed.

Ginny hadn’t recognised that he was lost, that he wasn’t well and that he desperately needed help. He knew he had become a master of hiding his feelings deep away but she was his girlfriend, she was supposed to know him better than anyone else.

Hermione had known.

Harry bowed his head down and took a deep breath before removing Ginny’s hands from around his waist and turning to her.

“I have to go,” he muttered.

“Harry?”

“I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, Potter,” she growled, gripping his arm tightly, “you are not starting this conversation and then just running away. You accuse me of not listening to you and when I offer to do just that, you turn away from me? What in Merlin do you want from me?”

“I want you to understand,” he told her, “I want you to look at me and see a human being, a boy who doesn’t have a bloody clue! Because I don’t think you see that, Ginny! And I’m too tired to care any more. I want you to listen, but more importantly, I want you to be able to understand! And I don’t think you can.”

“How can I understand if you won’t let me in?” she yelled at him, “you just go about, brooding and all misunderstood…”

“I lost everything!” he shouted, snatching his arm out of her grasp, “everything! You lost a brother but I’ve lost my parents, my godfather, my mentor, my friend…my life! My whole purpose of being! Do you get that? Do you see? I have nothing!”

“What am I then, chopped liver?”

“It’s not always about you, Gin,” Harry spat, “and by the way – Hermione’s lost her parents. They stayed in Australia. So she isn’t fine either. I’ll talk to you later.”

And with that, he was gone.

5. Help

A/N – thanks for the reviews and I’m afraid to say that Ginny stays with us for a bit longer. Hope you enjoy this and sorry it’s a day late…

Chapter 5 - Help

The kitchen was blissfully empty when Harry made his way down to breakfast Monday morning, Kreacher leaving his bowl of cereal there for him before leaving. Harry couldn’t help but smile – the house elf seemed to know when Harry needed to be alone and this was certainly one of those times.

He ran a hand through his hair and sat down. He was exhausted. After leaving Ginny the previous day, he had gone to Godric’s Hollow and just sat and thought. He wondered if Ron had found Hermione and how it had turned out. He thought about his own relationship with Ginny and how it wasn’t turning out quite as he had imagined.

He thought about how everything was just one big mess.

It had been dark when he returned to Grimmauld Place and the house had been empty of his two friends. Kreacher passed on a message that Ron had found Hermione and they were talking, but Harry didn’t hear Hermione come home.

Which he would’ve as he hadn’t slept all night. The few times when he did close his eyes, the images that entered his mind woke him with panic, terrifying him with their realism and brutality. The fact that it was Ginny, Hermione and Ron that haunted him made it even worse.

Sighing, he started to eat his breakfast, wondering if he was going to be able to last the day.

“Morning Harry.”

His head shot up as Hermione walked into the kitchen, looking as tired as he felt.

“You’re here,” he said stupidly, “I didn’t hear you come home last night.”

“That’s because I’ve just arrived,” she explained as she got a bowl and poured out her own portion of cereal, “I thought I should get a change of clothes for work. Blimey Harry, you look terrible – is everything alright?”

“Isn’t that what I should be asking you?” Harry countered, “how did it go with Ron?”

“We broke up,” she stated, moving her breakfast around its bowl with the spoon, “but that shouldn’t be a surprise to you considering Saturday night and your little visit to him yesterday.”

“I’m sorry…” he began.

“I’m not,” Hermione interrupted with a shrug, giving him the smallest of glances, “what’s wrong with you?”

“Ginny and I had a fight and I pretty much haven’t slept all night.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, “perhaps you shouldn’t go to work…”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I doubt that,” she scoffed, “look, I better go – I’m going in early so I can leave early…”

“Oh, okay,” he frowned, “I’ll see you at dinner then?”

“Actually, I won’t be home for dinner either, I…I have some things I need to do…”

“Are you coming to lunch with me and Ron?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she told him as Harry kicked himself at his insensitivity, “we…we need some space right now. I’ll see you later, alright? You take care.”

And with that, she was gone, her breakfast barely touched left on the table.

That night he went to The Burrow to apologise to Ginny, an apology that was only accepted after much discussion and a heavy snogging session. By the time he got home, Hermione was already in bed.

It turned out that he didn’t see his housemate for the rest of the week as she was gone by the time he made it to breakfast and didn’t emerge from her room in the evenings. When Saturday arrived, Harry decided that he needed to see her, to make sure she was alright so with a bit more than slight apprehension, he knocked on her bedroom door Saturday morning.

“Harry!” she greeted as she opened her door, just enough to let him see her and nothing else, “what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out and do something,” he said with a frown, noticing how she seemed to have lost even more weight, “I mean, I haven’t seen you all week so I thought…”

“I’m so sorry,” she interrupted, “but…but I already have plans. I’ll see you for dinner…”

“Um, actually I’m catching up with Ron, Neville and the others tonight…”

“That sounds brilliant,” she cut in again, “I hope you have a great time. I…I have to go. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Hermione…”

“I’m fine Harry, honestly I am. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Without allowing him to say anything more, she closed her door leaving a very concerned Harry on the other side. She was lying, he could tell – she hardly looked at him at all. And she was terribly thin. But the worst thing of all was the fact that behind her were still full boxes. She had been living at Grimmauld place for two weeks and hasn’t unpacked.

That night he kept thinking of how he was going to get through to Hermione, how he could help her. His friends were used to his often quietness and didn’t push him to join in (although every now and then he forgot his worries and enjoyed being a bloke out on the town with his mates).

It was early morning by the time he came home and when he finally made it down to breakfast, it was lunch and Hermione had gone. They did have dinner together, but the conversation was stilted and forced. When she left him to go back to her room, he realised she was avoiding him and he didn’t know why.

By Wednesday his hunch seemed more and more plausible as Hermione continually found excuses not to spend time with him. He was at a loss about what he should do – he couldn’t talk to Ron about it as his friend hinted he wasn’t ready to talk about his ex-girlfriend quite yet (although he did echo Harry’s concerns), everyone else Harry would’ve turned to for advice were dead.

As he sat and tried to concentrate on learning the hundreds of rules Auror’s had to take into consideration before arresting someone, his mind kept returning to Hermione. When he finally came to a solution, it was all he could do not to run out of the lesson and set the wheels in motion. Instead, he waited until a break before sending off an owl and waited patiently for a reply, which arrived only a couple of hours later.

Late the following day, he was at his cubicle making notes on the laws they were introduced to at yesterday’s lesson when he heard a very familiar voice.

“I’d like to see Mr Harry Potter, please.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as Ron, Neville and Seamus’ heads all popped up over the various cubicle divisions with unsuppressed shock.

“Professor McGonagall,” Neville gasped, getting Hogwart’s current principal’s attention, “what are you doing here?”

“Ah, Mr Longbottom,” she acknowledged with a curt nod, dismissing the person she had originally questioned, who scurried away, “I was looking for Mr Potter as I have an appointment with him. I am slightly early, I’m afraid.”

“You’re here to see Harry?” Ron asked bluntly, “why?”

“I think that is between Mr Potter and myself, don’t you?”

Harry could see Ron’s blush from where he was sitting and with a smile, stood and made himself known.

“Professor,” he welcomed, walking towards her, “thanks for coming. I realise you must be extremely busy.”

“The matters in your owl concerned me,” she stated and Harry knew he had made the right choice.

“Neville, is there a free interrogation room?” he asked the still stunned Auror.

“You’re going to interrogate Professor McGonagall?” Seamus asked in horror.

“Of course not, you twit,” Harry dismissed with a shake of his head and a smile, “Neville?”

“Er, yes, Room Two is free.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, guiding the professor down to the row of rooms further along the corridor, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Gentlemen,” Professor McGonagall farewelled with a parting nod then followed Harry.

As soon as they were in one of the non-descript rooms, Harry activated the privacy wards and turned to his old professor.

“Did you see her before coming here?” he asked with little fan fare.

“Yes Mr Potter…”

“Harry. Please, call me Harry.”

“Yes, Harry, I did,” she told him, sitting down on one of the chairs, “and you’re right – Miss Granger is terribly unwell.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Harry admitted, sitting down in the other chair, “she won’t talk to me. Hell, she won’t even look at me at the moment.”

“She has been through quite an ordeal, what with the loss of her parents…”

“You knew about that?”

“She contacted me first for some advice,” she informed him, “it was me who got Kingsley and the Ministry involved.”

“Of course,” Harry muttered, “she tells everyone but Ron and me…”

“She didn’t tell everyone, Harry, she told me,” the professor corrected him, “and may I ask, what would’ve you done if she had contacted you and asked you that she needed to let the Muggle world know that her parents were dead?”

“I don’t know.”

“No, you don’t. Miss Granger didn’t turn to you or Mr Weasley because there was nothing you could’ve done…”

“We would’ve supported her!”

“Yes,” she sighed, “you would’ve supported her and in retrospect I should’ve insisted more fervently that you both were involved. But Miss Granger was really quite determined to keep this to herself.”

“Well, now it’s tearing her apart,” Harry grumped, “she isn’t eating properly, she’s hardly sleeping and she’s pulling away from us.”

“I’m afraid Miss Granger is heading down a dangerous path,” Professor McGonagall agreed, “but to be frank, Harry, you don’t look that much better.”

“I’m fine.”

“Harry…”

“This isn’t about me, it’s about Hermione! I’ll deal with my issues once I know she’s okay!”

The two of them stared at each other as Harry fought his anger down. He knew he was treading a very fine line with his own state of health, but he was determined to see Hermione her old self again – she had sacrificed too much for him to let her give it all away now.

“Your owl said she has gotten worse,” McGonagall started gently, “how?”

“When she first got to my place, she was sad and tired,” Harry tried to explain, frowning, “but she talked to me. We even had a few laughs, you know? We went to London and just had fun, which was brilliant.

“Then Ron came back and he said some really stupid stuff. They broke up and she hasn’t spoken to me since…”

“Mr Weasley and Miss Granger were an item?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, puzzled, “didn’t you know?”

“Why, no,” she replied with a puzzled frown of her own, “I always thought it was yourself she held a torch for – you both are so close.”

“Why does every one think Hermione and I like each other?” Harry growled, standing up and pacing, “can’t two people of the opposite sex be best friends with each other without it being…more? We’re just friends! She’s like a sister to me!”

“Does Miss Granger know this?”

“Of course she does, she feels the same about me…”

Harry stopped as he remembered last Saturday.

Did you really tell him that? That you loved me like a sister?

Hermione was crying when she had asked him and had paused before confirming that she felt the same.

“Harry?”

She hadn’t looked him in the eye since – did that mean that she did, in fact, like him?

No, that can’t be right, he thought furiously, we spent months alone together in a tent, if she felt something more for me, surely she would’ve said something then? No – this is just coincidental. There is no way Hermione likes me…

“Mr Potter!”

Startled out of his thoughts, he looked over to where Professor McGonagall was sitting watching him.

“She can’t like me,” he finished weakly, sinking back into his chair, “I’m with Ginny…”

“Ginny Weasley?” McGonagall repeated, “my, my, my.”

“Do you think that’s why she’s been acting so strange?” he asked, running a hand through his hair in resignation.

“I think Miss Granger is experiencing so many things at the moment that she is quite overwhelmed,” the professor replied softly, “she is not coping, but you already know that.”

“How can we help her?”

“Our initial concern is her health,” she started, “she needs to start eating properly – as do you, Harry.”

“It’s hard to eat when you’re not hungry.”

“Then eat natural, hearty foods – lots of fruit and vegetables, grains and proteins. Make yourself eat – both of you, small portions at a time. Because if you both continue down this path, we will be burying you soon.”

“How about the nightmares?”

“She needs to talk…”

“She won’t talk to me!”

“Persevere Harry, she will in time. In the meantime, try and see if she will do some form of physical activity and try and get her to start to eat properly. Threaten her with Molly if she doesn’t listen, that woman is in desperate need to care for someone at the moment.”

“Will Hermione be alright?”

“With friends like you, Mr Potter, I have faith that the Hermione Granger of old will return to us.”

It was dark when Harry returned to Grimmauld Place, his arms full of books on nutrition and healthy eating. He planned on reading them and then talking with Kreacher on how to make their diets better. How he would get Hermione exercising was another problem all together and one he couldn’t think of a solution.

But he’ll find one.

He had to.

6. the Truth

A/N – this is a longer chapter and one that I enjoy. A bit more going on (I got a ‘snore’ review for the last chapter, which is fair enough – it was kinda boring!) and again, my viewpoint on canon.

Now, while I was doing ‘research’ on this chapter, I had an interesting thought. Harry had Voldemort in his head while in Malfoy Manor, the connection strong enough previously to have Harry forget everything else and ‘see’ what Voldemort was doing. However, he was able to shut that out so he could work on how to save Hermione.

In the next chapter, when he is burying Dobby, he still has Voldemort in his thoughts but he consciously blocks it out so he could concentrate on what he was doing – his grief (though Dumbledore would’ve said love) drove Voldemort out.

So – I thought about this. He could drown out Voldie when he was determined to save Hermione and he could drown out Voldie with his grief (or love) of Dobby. Both are canon facts. Yet another H/Hr moment given to us and overshadowed by the ‘epilogue’ (in fact, the whole Malfoy Manor, to me, is H/Hr all the way). I was going to put this bit of info in the forums, but don’t know how to start a thread so if any of my readers also find this interesting and is more computer savvy than me – feel free to post.

Anyway, enough of that. Thanks again for your reviews (even the snoring one!) and I hope you enjoy this.

Chapter 6 – the Truth

Three forty-five.

Three forty-five in the morning.

Harry groaned, rubbing his eyes under his recently placed glasses while putting his alarm clock back on the bedside cabinet. He could feel the sheen of sweat on his back as he stared at the ceiling of his room, the remnants of his latest nightmare chilling him in the early morning October air.

Sighing, he sat up and reached for his dressing gown and wand – it was no point trying to get back to sleep now as his months of experience with bad dreams has taught him. Thinking that a nice cup of hot milk and perhaps a few chapters of his latest book might calm him, he headed out from his room and down the stairs.

Thinking how thankful he was that at least he had five hours sleep so he won’t be totally wasted at work later, he stopped in surprise when he saw the light flickering in the drawing room. Frowning, he entered the room to see Hermione already there, sleeping on the couch with a book laying over her chest, the fire in the hearth dancing in the otherwise darkness.

He wondered how long she’d been there and when had the lights extinguished themselves, thinking that she must’ve come down quite late as he hadn’t seen her all evening and he hadn’t left until well after eleven.

His curiosity turned to concern when she started to grimace in her sleep, her body convulsing so that her book thumped heavily to the floor. She let out a muted scream, her body tensing as a wave of pain crossed her face. When she groaned out his name before another scream wracked her, Harry hurried to her side and took her clammy hand in his.

“I’m here, Hermione,” he told her, not caring if she could hear him or not.

“We found it…we found it – please!”

Harry knew those words, they were forever etched into his brain – she was reliving her torture at Malfoy Manor. Hermione confirmed this when, after screaming once more, she told her dreams that the sword was a copy, that it wasn’t real. Every time the cruciatus curse wracked her body, she tensed and although her screams weren’t the strength or the loudness that they had been, they cut Harry just the same.

Her grip on his hand was vice like, but he didn’t let go. He felt he deserved the pain after what he had let her go through and what she continued to experience. She muttered his name again, her voice full of fear, and then with a cry of anguish, she yelled “no!”, waking up abruptly, her eyes snapping open, full of horror.

She looked frantically around her as reality began to replace the nightmare, her eyes finally falling onto Harry.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, snatching her hand out of his and bringing her knees protectively to her chest, making herself as small as she possibly could, “how…how long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he replied quietly, making his way to the armchair opposite her, a flick of his wand turning the lights on softly, “it sounded like a pretty bad dream.”

“It…it was,” Hermione stuttered, running a hand through her already disarrayed hair, “it’s one of the worst.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

She looked at him, her eyes wide with fright.

“Talk?” she repeated, hugging her knees in closer to her.

“It might help…”

“What are you doing here?” she interrupted harshly, “it’s late!”

“You know you’re not the only one that has nightmares, Hermione,” he told her and she sagged into the corner of the couch, dropping her chin to the top of her bent knees.

“It…it’s difficult to talk about,” she whispered, “I don’t want to remember what she did to me, but I see it so often in my dreams that I…I can’t forget.”

“I know what you mean,” Harry agreed, “there’s so many things that I wish I could just forget, but I can’t,” he paused, glancing at her, “it might help if you talk about it.”

“You don’t,” she said bluntly.

“You don’t want to be like me, Hermione.”

“But that’s just it,” she cried, rearranging herself so she was now cross-legged, “I do want to be like you Harry! Because you’ve been through so much more! And when you tell us, it’s like you’re describing a Quidditch match or something! When I try and talk about what I’ve been through, I just start to cry! What good is that? What purpose does that fill? I hate feeling! I hate feeling like this! I wish I just didn’t feel…anything, any more!”

“I wished that once,” he admitted, “after Sirius died. Dumbledore told me that feeling made me more of a man, more human. I told him, well, shouted at him actually, that I didn’t care, that I had had enough. Trouble is, it’s really hard not to feel. I think I’ve just had better practice in hiding stuff like that from everyone,” he paused again, noting how Hermione was chewing her bottom lip in thought – he ploughed on, “when…when I heard you scream, at Malfoy Manor, I had to save you, had to make it stop. Ron had gone mental, and I…I had Voldemort invading my mind but all I wanted to do was get you out of there. It was my fault that happened to you…”

“Harry…”

“No, Hermione, it was,” Harry stopped her protest, she finally glancing at him briefly, “it was me who said his name, even though we knew it meant trouble. I’ve done some incredibly stupid things over the years but that would be up there with one of the worst. The other was getting Sirius killed and putting everyone else in danger. Actually, following Bathilda was a pretty thick thing to do as well…”

“You’ve done some pretty incredible things, too,” she told him, “you saved me at the Manor.”

“No, Dobby saved you, saved us. I’m not such a great hero.”

She looked up at him a bit longer than before, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She changed her position again, returning to having her knees drawn up to her chest, hugging them tightly. After a moment, she dropped her gaze to the coffee table in front of her.

“I was terrified when they recognised who I was,” she began, Harry knowing full well, who ‘they’ were, “not so much for me but because they would then guess about you. As long as we were together, though, I thought we’d get out of it. When…when we got to the Manor and Bellatrix separated me from you and Ron, I thought I was going to die. After the first time she…she hurt me, I wanted to die.

“I could hear Ron yelling out my name, but I tried to block it out – I needed to concentrate on Bellatrix and keeping the lie going. Every time she cursed me, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold on for much longer, the only thing that kept me going was…was knowing that I was giving you and Ron time to escape.

“I…I wanted the pain to end so badly, I just wanted it to be over, for it to stop. I didn’t care anymore. I tried to remember good things, spending time with mum…mum and dad, Hogwarts, you and Ron. And when the pain stopped, I was so thankful…”

“It stopped?”

“For a moment,” she replied, thinking, “for a moment, everything went white – I had on this pure white gown and my grandmother was there, watching me. I was slightly confused because even though I was happy to see her, she had died when I was ten…”

“You died?” he repeated, unable to hide the shock from his voice.

“I think so. Gramma told me that I still had things to do, that I needed to go back – so I did and all the pain come rushing back.

“Everything was blank for a while and then I woke up in a comfy bed…”

with Ron and Fleur looking on worriedly. Hermione tried to sit up, her eyes scanning the room.

“Where’s Harry?” she asked panicked, her voice raw, barely acknowledging the flash of hurt that crossed Ron’s face, “where are we?”

“Harry’s fine,” Ron answered, “and we’re at Bill and Fleurs’. How’re you feeling?”

“Sore and tired,” she told him, sinking back into the pillows and closing her eyes wearily.

“You’ve been through…” he started, his words catching awkwardly before he quickly blurted, “I’m really glad you’re alright.”

Hermione opened her eyes to see Ron stand abruptly, his face beetroot red. He looked down at her and gave her a half hearted smile.

“Thanks,” she smiled back.

“I better go and help Harry,” Ron muttered embarrassedly, then quickly departed.

“Help Harry what?” she asked Fleur before drinking some more potion.

“Zat leetle ‘ouse elf zat belongs to ‘Arry…”

“Dobby?”

“Yes, zat is ‘im,” Fleur explained softly, “’e was killed. ‘Arry is burying ‘im…”

“I need to get up,” Hermione stated, trying to make her aching muscles move, “I need to help Harry.”

“’Ermione, you need to rest!”

“I can rest later,” she hastened, “please, help me get up!”

Fleur stopped protesting and instead wrapped a dressing gown around Hermione’s shoulders and helped her stand. They made their way slowly down the stairs, meeting a quiet Luna on the way. The blond joined the small party, that was completed with a solemn Bill and the four of them made their way into the night.

Every step was a struggle, but she was determined. She could see Ron taking off his socks and placing them on the feet of the small body in front of them, then Harry placing a hat that Dean gave him, on the elf’s head. She wanted to cry, but she had no more tears left and when she saw the blood and dirt on Harry as they came up to the grave, she realised that he must’ve dug it himself.

Something in her broke – seeing the pain in Harry’s face as he looked down onto his fallen friend. Ron came to her side and supported her, holding her up with an arm around her shoulders. She welcomed the comfort.

“We should close his eyes,” Luna said quietly, gently reaching down and doing just that, “there, now he could be sleeping.”

But Dobby wasn’t sleeping, and as Harry placed the elf into the grave, the finality struck her hard. Another of their fellows was lost – faithful Dobby, the free house-elf who was devoted to the boy who gave him his freedom. And now he was dead.

Harry looked as if he was going to break, but he held onto the emotions that Hermione knew were coursing through him. She could see the pain, sadness and guilt in his face as he looked down onto the little body.

“I think we ought to say something,” Luna suggested, “I’ll go first, shall I?”

No-one said no, so Luna said her eulogy, with Ron, Dean and Harry voicing their thanks to Dobby before Bill covered the small grave with the excavated dirt. Hermione stayed silent, not trusting her voice but not knowing what to say any way.

She always saw herself as the fighter for elves’ rights, their sole crusader – but in that moment, she knew that Harry had done more for house-elves than she ever had. She felt inadequate in so many ways; weak and ashamed. When Harry asked to be alone for a while, she was relieved to leave the gravesite and return to the house.

It was suggested she go to bed and rest, but Hermione refused. Instead, she sat with Ron and listened to Bill update them on what was happening with the family and the Order. Harry entered the living room, his face hard and removed of any emotion. He grimaced when he heard the Weasley’s had gone into hiding, but – as she had seen so many times before – the leader he one day would become took control.

He gave orders, but not demands – told what was needed while still holding back the whole truth. She sat with Ron in silence, both intent in trying to guess what Harry was going to do next. When he asked to see Griphook, neither she nor Ron knew whether they were to be included, moving only when Harry asked them to. He praised her for her efforts under torture but still she said nothing. What could she say? Thanks?

Griphook was brought to them and Harry began asking him about Gringott’s and how to break into it. This came after Griphook told Harry that his treatment of elves and goblins made him an ‘odd wizard’ and Hermione realised that Griphook was right. When Ron started arguing with the goblin about why wizards had more right to carry wands than goblins, the matter was confirmed. Ron would always see other magical creatures as lesser beings because he was brought up that way. Harry was not.

“…I got so mad – mad at Ron, mad at Griphook, mad at myself. My stupid attempts to free house-elves when the years of prejudice…” Hermione paused with her recollection and looked up at Harry, who looked back supportively, “sorry, I’ve rambled on a bit. My nightmare doesn’t normally go this far, it jumps from Malfoy Manor to Hogwarts, where you…you are dumped in front of us but you…”

This time she stopped, once more looking downwards as she fought away her tears.

“How can you ever think that you’re weak?” he asked softly, “Hermione, you’re one of the strongest people I know.”

“Even though I spent most of last year crying?” she tried to laugh, “and most of this year, it seems.”

“That doesn’t make you weak,” Harry frowned, “and you were going through a lot, are going through a lot,” he paused again, knowing that his next move was a delicate one – for him and for her, but he wanted to know. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “what happened when I went into the forest? Before Hagrid brought me back?”

It was like Hermione was expecting the question as she took a deep, calming breath, her hands playing with the cuff of her pyjama bottoms. After getting herself under control, she began to tell her story.

“I couldn’t believe Fred, Remus and Tonks were all gone. It just felt so wrong. I kept thinking of little baby Teddy and how he was alone now, just like you were. When I thought about you, I looked up from where I was with Ginny and couldn’t find you. Ron seemed to think the same thing at the same time as we both left the Hall…”

“Have you seen Harry,” she asked Ron in an urgent whisper.

“No,” he said, still looking around, “where do you think he’s gone?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione answered, trying to hide her panic as she thought quickly, “I’ll go and check the headmaster’s office and you check the common room, if he’s still in the castle, chances are he’d be there. Or the Room of Requirement, I guess. Meet you back here in ten minutes?”

Ron nodded his agreement as they both sprinted off to their destinations. Hermione tried not to think of the worse case scenario, that Harry had gone off to face Voldemort on his own, but in the back of her mind, she knew that that was a very probable possibility.

The entrance to the headmaster’s office was damaged, but she didn’t look twice as she made her way up the spiral staircase. The room was empty – even all the picture frames stood desolate. She was about to leave and go back to Ron, but she noticed the Pensieve sitting on Dumbledore’s old desk. She knew Harry had taken Snape’s last memory and something told her that whatever it held had now determined Harry’s fate.

Before she could think any further, she bent over the swirling liquid and went head first into Snape’s childhood. She watched as her old professor’s fascination with Mrs Potter unfolded and then the betrayal which led to the man she had known for the last six years. But things changed when the conversations with Dumbledore became more and more alarming. When she stepped out of the Pensieve and back into the office a new form of terror spurred her back to the entrance hall. Ron was already there, waiting for her, his worry making him sharp.

“What took you so long?” he snapped, but Hermione ignored him and continued for the door, “Hermione?”

“He’s gone,” she spat as she strode past Ron.

“I know,” Ron agreed, falling in step with her, “he wasn’t in the common room and I guess he wasn’t in the office. Dean just went by and said he wasn’t in the Room of Requirement either. Where do you think…”

“He’s gone to face You-Know-Who,” she interrupted, hurrying down the steps, “we need to go and help him!”

“Wait, Hermione!” Ron exclaimed, grabbing her arm and making her stop, “he wouldn’t do that! He wouldn’t face…he wouldn’t go off without us!”

“Well, he has and we have to help him,” she stated firmly, ripping her arm from his grasp and continued walking, “we need to find him because the git is going to get himself killed!”

“Hermione, stop!” Ron commanded and she did so, turning to him impatiently, “we can’t go off like this! We don’t know where Harry is or even where You-Know-Who is!”

“They’re in the forest…”

“But where? The forest is filled with Death Eaters and tons of creatures that just want to do us in! All we’ll do is get ourselves killed. We can’t do this without thinking things through!”

“We haven’t got time!” she nearly screamed, “don’t you understand, he wants to die! He’s a Horcrux, Ron!”

Ron looked at her in horror, a strangled ‘no’ coming from his lips.

“Is everything alright?”

Hermione looked at Neville, who suddenly appeared at their side, carrying a body of a sixth year Hufflepuff girl.

“We’re looking for Harry,” she said immediately, and Neville nodded.

“He passed by here a little while back,” he told them, “but he has his cloak so…”

“Which way did he go?”

“That way,” Neville pointed towards a section of the forest and without thinking, she started to stride in that direction, only to find her way once more blocked by Ron.

“I can’t let you do this, Hermione,” he said solemnly.

“Get out of my way!”

“No,” Ron stated firmly, “Harry has made his choice and we can’t follow him this time. I know for a fact he would throttle me if I let you go off and die because of him. He’ll come back, he has before. If you continue to run off, I swear, I’ll stun you.”

She looked at him carefully and knew he was telling the truth. But she could also see he believed that Harry would come back. Fighting back her tears, she nodded her acceptance and Ron let go of the breath that he had been holding.

“Come on,” he smiled sadly, guiding her back to where they’d come, “let’s help and find survivors.”

For the first time, Hermione took in her surroundings and saw the grounds covered with bodies. Others were looking at each of the fallen and ascertaining whether they were one of them or one of their own, dealing with each body appropriately. She could see Ginny and Mr Weasley – Ginny far enough away to have missed Hermione’s panic.

Confused, she made her way back into the castle and into the Great Hall. She went over to where Remus and Tonks lay, along side so many others, and felt shattered. Aware that she had been joined by others, she took no comfort in their presence.

When the voice of their enemy filled the air, she closed her eyes as if to block out what she knew was coming.

“Harry Potter is dead!” the voice proclaimed and nothing else mattered. Hermione was aware that Voldemort was still talking, aware that a chorus of fear echoed around the Hall. She opened her eyes to see Professor McGonagall exit the Hall, her action starting the exodus of the other survivors, Ginny and Ron among them.

Ron took her hand and she numbly followed, standing on the steps as she watched a sobbing Hagrid carrying what looked like a rag doll in his arms. She heard a cry, but she was unaware that it had come from her. Around her, there was a roar aimed at the strutting Voldemort before them but she wasn’t really listening. All she saw was the body lying lifeless in Hagrid’s arms.

The command for silence broke through the horror that had engulfed her mind, and she watched as Harry was placed on the cold ground – his eyes closed but still framed with his familiar glasses. She couldn’t believe that he was dead, that he was gone. He had been such a major part of her life for so long, that the thought that it was over made her feel like part of her had died with him.

You were supposed to live, she thought miserably, you were supposed to live and have the life you deserve!

“He beat you!”

She heard Ron yell out, interrupting Voldemort and his victory speech. With a slowness that seemed out of this world, Hermione turned away from Harry and looked at Ron – pale and shaking at her side. He had let go of her hand when they had first seen Hagrid and she could tell that he had forgotten her.

Harry wouldn’t have forgotten me, she thought, turning back to their gloating enemy and back to the body at his feet, remember Harry? Remember what made us friends? You saved me from the troll, you and Ron, because I wasn’t a nobody to you. I was worth saving, I was worth something, even way back then. How could you leave me now?

Hermione fell to her knees, her legs no longer able to hold her. How could he leave her? How did he expect her to be able to survive without him in her life? He was everything to her! She had spent what seemed like a lifetime helping him win, keeping alive and it was all for nothing – because he was dead.

She felt someone rush past her and saw Neville try and attack Voldemort, only to be disarmed and thrown to the ground. A wave of pride briefly weaved through her numb despair as Neville still defied their supposed victors. But something new caught her eye – for the briefest of moments, she saw a slither of green under the dark lashes of Harry.

Immediately, her numbness disappeared as she concentrated on him, not seeing or hearing the exchanges between Neville and the others. All she saw was Harry.

He’s breathing! she thought wildly, I’m sure of it! He’s alive?

But before she could think of anything else, pandemonium broke around her. Creatures of all sorts streamed from the forest while the survivors began fighting once more.

“Hermione!” Ron screamed at her, frantically trying to get her to stand, “Hermione, what’re you doing?”

She tried to shake his grip from her, totally unaware of what has happening around her – she needed to make sure he was still alive.

“Get up!” Ron yelled, “get up and fight!” He yanked her harder, bringing her to her feet and she turned to him angrily.

“He’s alive!” she told him and for a moment it seemed the world stood still. Ron gaped at her, a strange look on his face and she realised something that she, if she thought hard, had known for a very long time.

“HARRY! WHERE’S HARRY?”

Hagrid’s question broke whatever spell Hermione was under. She turned to the spot where Harry’s body lay and saw it empty – he was gone. With an elated grin at Ron, she drew her wand and joined in the fray.

Harry was alive. She knew it with the whole of her heart. Harry was alive.

She fought hard and soon found herself facing Bellatrix in the Great Hall, Luna joining her as it became apparent that Hermione’s skill couldn’t match that of the older witch. She didn’t know how or why, but before long Ginny came and fought at her other side and the three of them tried to overcome the one.

It was with more than a little surprise when Mrs Weasley took over, pushing them out of her way as she took on the battle with Bellatrix with furious passion. Hermione joined the others to watch, though she was drawn more to the other duel between Voldemort and Professor McGonagall, Kingsley and Professor Slughorn. If Harry were going to come back, it would be to get rid of Voldemort.

Her attention was momentarily diverted when Mrs Weasley cast her killing blow and Bellatrix Lestrange was no more. Voldemort’s anger was instant as his opponents flew in all directions by an unseen force.

“Protego!”

Hermione heard his voice and the part of her that died moments before struck into beautiful life. He appeared before them – strong, defiant and very much alive.

She unfolded herself from the couch and stood, sighing heavily as Harry watched, trying to comprehend what she had just told him.

“There was something that I had been denying for such a long time,” she continued quietly, “trying to ignore because I knew that I couldn’t have those type of feelings. Feelings that wouldn’t be returned.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said, confused.

“I knew then, when I thought you had died, I knew that I couldn’t ignore what I felt any longer,” Hermione looked at him then, her eyes sad and tired, “you were wrong when you told Ron that I love you like a brother, Harry. The thing is, I just love you. You. I love you.”

When Harry stared at her in numb shock, she smiled a tiny smile and left him sitting there, contemplating what she had just told him with surprised disbelief.

7. Rock Bottom

A/N - thank you once again for your reviews and I won't say anything more other than I hope you enjoy!!

Chapter 7 - Rock Bottom

The hurry up from Kreacher brought Harry back to reality - it was Monday morning and if he didn't leave soon, he'd be late for work (though in reality, work was the furthest thing from his mind). He hadn't slept as he spent the remainder of the early hours pacing his room, thinking again and again about Hermione's confession.

She loved him.

Hermione loved him!

Nervously, he ventured down to the kitchen, wondering what he was going to do or say if she was already there. Part of him knew she wouldn't be - she had been leaving earlier than him for nearly three weeks now - but it didn't stop the butterflies that had taken flight in his stomach.

When it was only Kreacher who welcomed him, Harry let out a sigh of relief. Slumping down to his bowl of homemade muesli, yoghurt and fruit, he casually asked his elf where Hermione was.

“The Miss left,” Kreacher replied and Harry stopped eating.

“Left?” he repeated, “you mean, she's gone to work?”

“No, the Miss left,” Kreacher confirmed with a nod of his head, “she woke Kreacher up, the Miss leaving with all her boxes and bags.”

Harry jumped from the table so quickly his chair tipped backwards unnoticed as he sprinted up the stairs to the room Hermione had been staying in.

“Hermione?” he called out, tapping on her door, his heart thumping in his chest, “Hermione, open up. I need to talk to you.”

He waited for a bit, but when there was no reply, he tentatively turned the doorknob and opened the door. The room was exactly how it was after he and Kreacher had cleared it over a month ago - all and any trace of Hermione had gone.

She had left Grimmauld Place.

Rushing back downstairs, he went straight to the fireplace, ready to floo to the Ministry and check whether she had gone to work but found his way blocked by his house elf.

“Kreacher, I need to get to work urgently,” he growled, “can you please move?”

“Master Harry has not finished his breakfast.”

“I'll eat something later - right now I have to…”

“Master Harry is to eat!” Kreacher insisted, not moving, “Kreacher's instruction is to ensure Master and Miss is to eat a special breakfast before leaving the house. Master Harry has not finished his breakfast!”

With a groan, Harry quickly went back to the bowl of muesli sitting on the table, picking up his fallen chair and sitting down heavily on it, silently cursing his earlier instruction given after his meeting with Professor McGonagall that neither himself or Hermione were to leave the house without eating a proper breakfast.

Scoffing down what had been placed in front of him, he frantically thought about where Hermione may be. Her options were pretty limited and to say he was worried was an understatement.

“Did Hermione mention where she went?” Harry asked between mouthfuls.

“No, Master Harry.”

“Did she eat something?”

“The Miss ate her special breakfast as requested although she didn't want to!”

Harry just nodded, sculling down his glass of pumpkin juice and then once more heading for the floo. This time he was able to leave and in moments stepped into the atrium of the Ministry. Ignoring everything around him, he quickly made his way to Hermione's floor, stepping out into an open plan office where five or six large desks sat covered in copious piles of paper.

Near the far wall, however, was a desk that was reasonably clear, the piles neat and orderly. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was Hermione's. The floor was empty as he strode over to the desk, glancing an eye over it in search for a clue where his friend could be. He could see she hadn't been there so far this morning.

“Can I help you?” a female asked him, making him turn to the voice to see a small, plump, middle-aged woman making her way to him, pausing when she recognised who he was, “Harry! Er, I mean, Mr Potter - what an honour…”

“Have you seen Hermione?” he interrupted quickly, noting the look of awe that usually preceded a request for an autograph or something.

“Hermione? No, not this morning,” the woman replied, “Mr Potter, I just have to say…”

“Claudia, that's enough,” another woman cut in, her tone firm and unweilding - Claudia blushed under the stare of her much older, taller and skinner colleague then scurried to her desk, “I'm Dotty Sidewalker, Mr Potter, Miss Granger's boss. Is everything alright?”

“Everything's fine,” Harry lied, “I'm just looking for Hermione.”

“Well, I got an owl early this morning with a letter of resignation,” Dotty explained, frowning at Harry, “I admit, I was rather surprised and not to say disappointed. She is quite a brilliant worker with a wonderful mind…”

Harry didn't hear the rest as he hurried out of the office and made his way as quickly as the lifts would let him, to his own floor. Looking at his watch, he saw it was about the time Ron usually showed up so he went to his cubicle, located next to his own.

“Ron!” he called out, popping his head into the cubicle and seeing that it was empty, “Ron!” he shouted, extending his head over the dividers and scanning the pretty empty office for his tall, redheaded friend.

“You bellowed.”

Harry jumped out of his skin as Ron's voice came from behind him, making him turn to see Ron standing there, casually eating some toast.

“Hermione's missing,” Harry said without preamble - Ron frowned.

“What'd you mean, Hermione's missing?” he asked.

“I mean that when I got up this morning, she's taken all her stuff and left,” Harry hastily explained, “and I've just spoken to her boss who said that Hermione has resigned…”

“Resigned?” Ron repeated, his toast forgotten, “what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Harry spat, trying to will away the blush that he felt warm his cheeks.

“Right, because Hermione's the type of girl to quit her job and run away for no apparent reason,” Ron snarked, “what happened?”

“I…I can't tell you,” Harry stuttered, “but we need to…”

“I need to know what happened!” Ron ordered firmly, crossing his arms and glowering at Harry, “what did you do to her?”

“Nothing!” Harry protested with a glower of his own, “look, we're wasting time!”

“Why can't you just tell…”

“Because she told me that she loved me, alright!”

Ron stared at Harry in silence, the tips of his ears turning a lovely shade of scarlet being the only sign that Ron heard Harry's frantic whisper. After a few moments, Ron seemed to get himself together, blink, and then re-focus on Harry.

“So, she finally told you then,” he said.

“Told me?” Harry hissed, “you knew about this?”

“Yeah, she told me when we broke up…”

“And you didn't think to mention it?”

“It wasn't up to me to say anything,” Ron informed him smartly, “so, what did you do?”

“Do?”

“For Merlin's sake, Harry - are you really this dense?” Ron muttered angrily, “yes, do! Did you tell her how you felt, talk to her?”

“Well, no,” Harry admitted awkwardly, “I mean, one minute we were talking about the nightmares and the final battle and then she…she confessed,” he slumped dejectedly at the memory, “it kinda knocked me for six!”

“And then she left.”

“Yes!” Harry cried, his urgency reignited, “yes, she left and we need to find her!”

“Find who?”

Both Harry and Ron turned to Neville at the same time; their ex-classmate standing in the entrance way of Ron's cubicle.

“Er…no-one,” Harry started.

“Hermione,” Ron said at the same time - Harry threw him a furious glare.

“Hermione's missing?” Neville asked, concerned, “for how long?” Both Neville and Ron turned to Harry.

“The last time I saw her was around four-thirty this morning,” he stated, resigned reluctantly to the knowledge that he was quickly losing control.

“Just over four hours ago,” Neville mused, “where have you guys looked?”

“No where yet,” Ron answered, “I was thinking the places that are significant to her…”

“She hasn't been gone for long,” Neville interrupted, thinking hard, “maybe she's just gone somewhere for the day or something. Why are you guys so worried?”

“She's taken all her stuff and quit her job,” Harry told him.

“…and because she's upset, she's unwell and the weather's packing in,” Ron added, “she isn't thinking straight at the moment, Nev, and she's got no where really to go. We need to find her.”

“Well, you two know her best,” Neville continued, “where shall we look?”

“She didn't come to The Burrow, but I'll go back and check a bit more thoroughly, then go to her family home…” Ron started.

“You know where she lived?” Harry cut in before he could stop himself.

“We did date, you know,” Ron reminded him, “I went to her place once or twice,” Harry accepted the comment with a frown, Ron continued, “why don't you go to Hogwarts, Neville and Harry - Godric's Hollow…”

“What about work?” Neville asked.

“I'll keep `em off your backs,” Seamus piped in, looking over the edge of one of the dividers, “you lot just go and find Hermione.”

“Right, thanks Seamus,” Ron nodded in acknowledgement, “I think we should spend no longer than an hour at each location so we'll meet back here at nine-forty five. If you find her, send your Patronus to notify the others. Neville, can you tell both Harry and me?”

“Sure, no problem,” Neville confirmed, “see you back here in an hour,” he quipped, then turned on his heel and left.

“Harry,” Ron confronted the quietly seething man, “promise me if you find her, you contact me before you approach her, okay?”

“I can deal with Hermione on my own, you know,” Harry objected, his voice low and angry, “I can be a lot more sensitive than you could ever be!”

“Not about this. Look,” Ron started, pulling Harry away from the cubicles before casting a quick muffliato around them, “when we broke up, she told me she realised she had feelings for you, which I kinda guessed, but she knows you don't feel that way about her. These past weeks she's been trying to work it all out. I…I know that I haven't been much help, but this last week we've started to talk again and she's just really messed up at the moment. She's been hiding this away from you for so long, I just think we need to do this together.”

Harry stopped and thought for a moment, knowing that really, Ron was right. Hermione hadn't spoken to him properly for the last month, last night being the first time they had been in the same room together for longer than a meal since Ron's return. Seeing Harry probably wouldn't achieve anything.

“I'll wait for you,” he finally agreed.

“Good,” Ron nodded then as one, they both headed to the lifts, “I guess you haven't been outside?”

“No.”

“The weather is rubbish all over the country and due to get worse…”

“We need to find her,” Harry interrupted.

“We will.”

Harry apparated in the woods on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow and immediately felt the chill. Pulling his cloak closer to him, he glanced around the clearing that had once been their campground before striding off towards the village.

It was the first time he'd been there since the previous Christmas and the memories of that visit tried to divert him from his purpose this time around. The occupants of the village were also an unnecessary distraction - after the fifth person coming to him and offering their thanks, Harry cast a quick disillusionment charm and disappeared from sight.

He saw no sign that Hermione had been either at the graveyard, church or his old house. It was there, however, when Neville's glowing Patronus told him what he wanted to know. She was at the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.

Without a second thought, he removed the disillusionment charm, apparated to Hogsmeade and began to jog up the track to his old school. He spotted Ron just ahead of him and caught up easily, both not speaking as they hurried onwards.

The wind was biting and just as they came to the gates, it started to rain. Professor McGonagall was waiting for them and with a brief nod of acknowledgement, let them through the wards and led them towards the forest.

“Is she alright?” Ron asked after a moment.

“I haven't seen her, Mr Weasley,” the headmistress replied, “Mr Longbottom informed me of the situation and found her before myself.”

“Where is she?” Ron continued to question, but Harry already knew the answer. The direction they were heading towards was sickenly familiar.

He also hadn't been back to Hogwarts since the last battle, he hadn't wanted to return to the site where so many died. Where he died. The grounds were empty, but Harry kept seeing bodies lying, untouched, before him. He was starting to panic, he knew it - the months of nightmares about the dead flashed before his currently awake mind. He wanted to leave so badly - but they had to find Hermione.

They came in sight of Hagrid's hut, newly built after the fire that destroyed it the year Dumbledore died. Hagrid was teaching a class under a magical, protective shelter and had not seen them but Harry couldn't help notice that Ginny was there, listening to whatever Hagrid was saying.

And standing right next to her was Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy had returned to Hogwarts to complete his education, his family semi-pardoned for their assistance in tricking Voldemort into thinking Harry had died. Lucius, however, was spending time in Azkaban.

Harry paused when he saw the blond head of Draco bend to the red of Ginny, whispering something that she found quite funny, hiding her giggle with a hand.

But his curiosity lasted for only a second as Hermione's welfare took prominence and in a heartbeat, he continued walking towards the Forbidden Forest.

Neville was waiting for them, sheltering from the rain under the branches of a large tree. He took them into the forest, explaining that one of the centaurs had told him where Hermione was but otherwise they walked in silence.

Harry knew they had reached their destination as soon as he saw the ring of half-men, half-horses standing on guard. They relaxed when they recognised the small party, parting and allowing them through.

Hermione was sitting on the spot that Harry had fallen all those months ago - marked by a scar of dead earth had never re-grown. She was soaked to the skin, her bags forgotten in a pile by her side, her shoulders round and defeated.

Harry and Ron quietly made their way to her, the others leaving just as quietly knowing this was a moment for the trio alone. Harry was torn - he wanted to reach out to her, to help her but he also knew he was the reason that she was in so much pain. He realised he needed to stand back and let Ron take the lead.

“Hermione,” the redhead called out tentatively.

“Leave me alone.”

“You know we can't do that,” he continued, stopping just behind her. She said nothing. Ron glanced uncertainly at Harry, who tried to tell him silently that he had no idea what to do. Taking a deep breath, Ron went and sat next to her, ignoring the mud and the wetness as he did so.

“What are you doing?” he asked her quietly.

“I…I don't know,” she whispered, her head dropping forward, “I don't know anything any more. Oh Ron, I've made such a mess of everything!”

“No you haven't,” he tried to reassure her, “we want to help you.”

“How?” she asked, “he was never meant to know and now…”

“Harry's really worried about you,” Ron carried on, “he has been since you got back. He isn't going to turn his back on you now, just because you were honest with him.”

“I'm such a fool.”

“Hermione, come on,” he nudged her gently, “you know as well as I that you're not a fool. That's my job.”

“You're not a fool, Ron,” she argued weakly, then whispered, “he's here, isn't he.”

“Yeah,” Ron confirmed, glancing at the still Harry before looking back to Hermione, “you know he wouldn't let you run off without him trying to track you down. It's that whole - what did you call it ages ago?”

“Saving people thing,” Hermione supplied helpfully.

“That's right, his saving people thing,” Ron nudged her again, trying to get a smile, “you'd think that after he saved the wizarding world from a madman, he would become just a mere mortal, like one of us. But no, when one of his best friends is in trouble, he's off again.”

“He can't save me this time.”

“Will you let me try?” Harry asked, speaking finally as he went and sat down in a spot between his two friends, trying desperately to ignore the memories it brought back to him, “Hermione, please, let me try.”

“How?” she asked again, “how can I…how can I get myself whole again?”

“You can come back home,” Harry told her firmly, “come back to Grimmauld Place.”

“I can't…”

“Yes you can,” Ron said, “I'm going to, I'm shifting in next week. Mum's finally is letting me go. It'll be fun…”

“Fun,” Hermione scoffed, “living with my ex-boyfriend and the object of my unrequited affections…”

“We were best friends before all of that,” Ron countered quietly, “and we're still best friends. That hasn't changed, has it?”

Hermione looked up at them then, and Harry gasped in shock. She was deathly white, bordering on blue, her eyes bloodshot and dead looking while the rain bet mercilessly down onto her.

“Bloody hell Hermione, you're freezing!” Ron exclaimed, taking off his cloak and chucking it over her shoulders, Harry doing the same, scooting in closer to her as he did so.

“Don't do this, Hermione,” Harry begged, “please, don't put yourself through this…”

She just looked at him with sad, wounded eyes.

“Have I ruined everything?” she asked timidly, “Will you still be my friend?”

“I will always be your friend,” Harry reassured, taking her ice-cold hands in his, “and we'll get through this, all of this. You, me and Ron. Just let us help you. Please.”

Ron had put his arm across her shoulders as Harry spoke, trying to warm her up with his body heat - Harry doing the same, all forgetting about magic for the moment. The three of them sat there, huddled together in the mud and the rain in the place where Harry once made the ultimate sacrifice. The boys waited for Hermione to speak, some how knowing that they needed her acceptance before they could do anything.

“I'm sorry for bringing you here, Harry,” she said finally, her teeth starting to chatter.

“If I say that's okay, will it get you out of the rain?” he tried to joke.

“I am cold,” she admitted tiredly, and then, “can you take me home?”

“Sure,” he told her and after a quick glance at Ron, who indicated what he should do with a nod of his head, he scooped her up in his arms and started carrying her out of the forest. She was shivering so he held her in closer to him in a feeble attempt to make her better, noticing just how light she felt.

She didn't complain.

Ron grabbed her belongings and followed them, Harry absently wondering why there were so little of them. It didn't matter, though - all that mattered was getting Hermione home and well.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for them at the forest's edge and quickly fell into step with them as they made their way back to the castle. She explained that Neville had returned to the Ministry and will be putting in both Harry and Ron's apologies for their tardiness for the day. She also advised that Madam Pomfrey would be available if needed to look after Hermione.

Ron spoke for them as Harry stayed resolutely quiet, the mess of emotions making it impossible to speak. It wasn't Hermione who had messed everything up, it was him. And the way she was shivering in his arms, he feared that he may lose her as well, that her name would be added to the list of those he…loved? dead.

His brain constantly stuck on that one thought - she loved him, not as a brother but as a…boyfriend? Romantically? Not even Ginny has said that she loved him and he knows he has never, ever told her. But did he? Did he love Ginny? He knows he cared for Ginny, but loves?

Did he love Hermione? Yes, he did. Romantically? He wasn't sure…no…maybe? No! He didn't know. But he did know that she was important to him and he couldn't lose her, especially now.

He couldn't lose her.

They made their way through the castle to the hospital wing, a wet, sorry group of people. So lost in his thoughts, Harry didn't notice Ginny watching the small procession from the doors to the Great Hall where she was heading for lunch or the look of sadness that crossed her face as they passed.

A/N 2 - I know that isn't what most of you expected but there has to be angst before fluffy goodness!

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8. Ginny

A/N – well, I’ve caught up with what has already been written therefore the postings won’t be as quick (as I have to write them first!). I’ve got the next three chapters written in my head, but it is much harder to get it down in print. Not too sure about this chapter but I hope you enjoy it! Oh, I guess I should warn you that there is H/G in this chapter…

Chapter 8 - Ginny

A month had passed since Hermione’s confession and a lot had changed at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. At first, things were difficult. Hermione’s hours in the rain added to her already weakened health, combining to a fever that had worried both Harry and Ron (even Madam Pomfrey) quite significantly until it finally broke and she only had to contend with the flu.

Harry had taken a week off work to look after her, intent in making sure she was well in an attempt to get rid of the guilt he felt that it was his fault that she was sick in the first place. Things between them were awkward but it was getting better. She was trying, as was he, and he felt in time they would be able to move on.

Meanwhile, Hermione withdrew her resignation and when she was well enough, went back to work. She also spent some time with Professor McGonagall and although she hadn’t got her old spark back, she was better than she was – Harry was sure his old professor had something to do with it.

Ron shifted in and with him, laughter – both intentionally and unintentionally. He seemed to know when things were getting tense between Harry and Hermione and often broke that tension with a joke of some sort or made Hermione focus on him instead. Harry recognised and appreciated what his friend was doing on more than one occasion.

The budding relationship between Ron and Luna had something to do with the ‘new and improved’ Ron, including his letter writing skills. At first, Harry was concerned at how Hermione would handle the new romance but she didn’t seem to mind, in fact seemed to encourage it.

This was why both Harry and Ron were in Hogsmeade on a Saturday morning, waiting for their respective girlfriends’ toshow. It was Ron and Luna’s first official date and he was more than a little nervous.

Harry didn’t really know how he felt. He and Ginny had been writing to each other as well, but they were letters of little consequence. She had insisted on meeting him this Hogsmeade visit – he had excused himself the few previous times but this was the last before Christmas.

He didn’t want to be there, not really. Part of him thought that he should break up with Ginny, that the relationship wasn’t working the way that it should but he kept arguing with himself that he hadn’t given it much of a chance. Today, he was determined to make an effort to try make things work.

He left Ron and Luna at the Three Broomsticks where he went inside and they carried on to some other destination. The friendly pub was pretty much empty as Harry scanned it for the familiar mane of red hair. Seeing nothing, he made his way to Rosemarta, who was busily clearing a table.

“Hi Rosemarta,” he began – she looked up at him and smiled.

“Harry!” she welcomed, “what can I do for you today? Butterbeer for one?”

“Actually, I was looking for Ginny Weasley,” he continued, “have you seen her?”

“I most certainly have,” the barmaid smiled, “she is in room seven, upstairs.”

“She’s in a room?”

“Yes, she is,” Rosemarta smirked, giving Harry a strange look, “waiting for you, it seems. She got here about fifteen minutes ago so you better get yourself up there…”

“Why would she be in a room?”

“Harry, dear – just go upstairs.”

Frowning, Harry made his way from the main part of the pub and up the stairs to the rooms where guests could stay overnight. He was trying to think of all the reasons why Ginny would want to meet him in a room and really couldn’t come up with anything.

Perhaps she wants to break up with me and not make a scene, he thought to himself, pausing outside room number seven for a moment, wondering how he felt about breaking up with Ginny and realising that it didn’t worry him as much as perhaps it should. Smiling, he tapped on the door.

“Ginny,” he called out as he entered the room, “it’s…”

Harry stopped. Everything stopped and for a moment, he was too stunned to move.

The room had been lit by candles, all natural light gone by the drawing of the curtain. There was soft music playing and her now familiar, flowery scent drifted over him. And lying on the bed, dressed in something black, lacy and didn’t cover that much, was Ginny.

A blush rushed to his cheeks while a whole different reaction happened in another part of his body, making him turn from her in embarrassment.

“Hi Harry,” she purred and he could hear the bed move as he frantically tried to get his brain to work.

“What…what are you doing?” he squeaked out, jumping as her arms encircled his waist.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” she breathed into his ear, her hands roaming his torso, “and let you know I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level.”

“Well, I’m not!” he cried, taking her hands from him and hastily moving from her reach, doing up the buttons of his shirt she had undone.

“Come on Harry,” she continued and now she was standing behind him, nuzzling his back, “we’ve been together, on and off, for nearly eighteen months. I know you’ve dreamt about this, about me and you – I want to make those dreams a reality…”

“You’re only seventeen!” he squealed, moving away again, “I can’t…we can’t…your family would kill me!”

“I’m of age,” she reasoned, but didn’t move this time, “and what my family doesn’t know won’t hurt them…”

“No!”

“You…you don’t want to have sex with me?” she asked quietly, no longer full of bravado but now sounding hurt.

“No, Ginny,” he answered truthfully, before adding hastily, “I…I have to go.”

Without waiting for a reply, he left the room and made his way back down the stairs. He felt numb, confused and extremely embarrassed. He could tell he was still blushing and the fact that all he wanted to do was get away as quickly as possible emphasised his turmoil.

“Harry,” Rosemarta welcomed as he strode past her, “I didn’t think I’d see you again so quickly.”

He looked at her and realised she knew what was supposed to take place.

“Oh, God,” he moaned and practically ran out of the door.

He wandered around Hogsmeade aimlessly before he remembered he was a wizard and apparated home, glad he didn’t splinch himself in the process. He let himself in and went straight to the kitchen – where Hermione was making her lunch.

He blushed all over again.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, surprised, “what are you doing back so soon? Are you okay?”

“No,” he answered absently, running a hand through his hair – then remembered who he was talking to and said, “yes! Yes, I’m fine.”

He looked at her and saw she was watching him with concern, her sandwich sitting unnoticed on the plate before her.

“No, you’re not,” she stated and Harry began to pace agitatedly, “what happened? Is everything alright with Ginny?”

At the mention of Ginny’s name, he paused and looked at Hermione in panic. He needed to talk to someone, to work through the issues that were numbing his brain. He couldn’t and wouldn’t talk to Ron and really, Hermione wasn’t that much better.

“I can’t talk to you about…this,” he said hastily, “I mean…it’s just that…it’s about me and Ginny…”

“Well, I guessed that much,” Hermione told him with a small smile, “look, I know things are a bit strange between us at the moment, but remember, we’re best friends first, aren’t we? And you’re really upset – you look like you’re about to burst! What happened? Did…did you break up?”

Harry shook his head ‘no’ and began pacing once more.

“Oh,” Hermione acknowledged thoughtfully, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she went through possible scenarios in her mind, “so if you didn’t break up then…” suddenly her eyes went wide as she blushed nearly as bad as he did – Harry stopped mid stride, “oh!” she gasped, “did…did Ginny…offer herself to you?”

He nodded without thinking – his mind once more consumed with the image of Ginny lying in the candlelight on the bed.

“Oh!” Hermione repeated making Harry stop once more as he was sure he could hear a smile in her voice. He looked at her and saw her trying to hide a grin.

“It’s not funny!” he protested weakly.

“No, no you’re right,” she answered seriously, trying to hide her smile, “and I’m guessing you said…no?”

“She’s seventeen!” he yelled and began pacing, lost in his own world again, “I thought we were going to break up, I thought she wanted to see me in private to break up with me! But she was…and she said…sure, I’ve thought about it – I’m a eighteen year old male! I’ve thought about sex a lot! But…oh God, I’m so sorry Hermione…”

“That’s fine, Harry,” Hermione reassured when he turned to her after he realised what he was saying, “I’ve thought about sex a lot too,” she smirked but he could see the hurt in her eyes. Harry groaned and went back to pacing, everything he wanted to say going around and around in his mind but now he was determined not to say anything.

“Master Harry,” Kreacher interrupted and once again Harry stopped mid pace to look at the house elf, “there is the youngest red here to see you.”

Harry frantically glanced at Hermione, who gave him a small, reassuring smile before getting her plate of lunch and standing. Before she could leave, however, Ginny sheepishly entered the kitchen. The two girls looked at each other, with Harry in the middle, watching.

“Hey, Ginny,” Hermione greeted politely, her smile growing.

“Hi, Hermione,” Ginny replied just as politely, “er – are you painting?”

Harry noticed for the first time that Hermione was dressed in an old shirt and sweat-pants, splashed with drops of cream coloured paint.

“Yes, my room,” Hermione said before continuing on her way, “which I better get back to. I’ll leave you two to it.” She gave Harry another smile and then left, taking Kreacher with her.

“She knows, doesn’t she?” Ginny asked quietly, not moving from her spot.

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, “sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Ginny snarked, sitting down, “I already feel like an absolute fool so what’s one more person to add to my humiliation…”

“Ginny…”

“I can’t believe I did that,” she groaned, “you must think I’m a…I don’t know, slag or something!”

“No, of course not,” Harry exclaimed, sitting down in the seat next to her, “but why did you…why?”

Ginny sat and thought, her long hair hiding her face from him as she stared down onto the table. After a moment, she spoke.

“I know I’m losing you, Harry,” she told him, “I know things aren’t going like you thought it would. Like we thought it would. I had this stupid idea that once the war was over, once you were no longer in danger, that things would go back to how it was in sixth year. I realise now that I was very wrong.

“You’re different than what you were – you hardly smile any more, hardly laugh. I don’t know how to deal with that…”

“I’ve changed…” he tried to explain, “I’ve seen and done so much…”

“I know,” she sighed, “and I guess I’ve changed too. Losing Fred – I want to live life to the fullest, you know? Experience as much as I can, go with the moment.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I finally see that now.”

“Is that what today was all about?” he asked softly.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” she said, “I thought that if we went to the next level, you’d stay with me.”

“How could you think that?” he questioned, “Ginny, we’ve never even talked about sex…”

“You told me you thought of me…”

“I was stuck in a tent in the middle of no-where, hungry and wanting to get out of there,” Harry shrugged, “you were the bright light at the end of the tunnel – of course I thought of you!”

“Even with Hermione there?”

“Hermione?” he frowned, “what’s Hermione got to do with it?”

She looked at him then, her brown eyes searching his. After a moment, she smiled, reached out and stroked his cheek gently.

“You’re an incredible bloke, Harry Potter,” she smiled sadly, “but I think we should be just friends, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking her hand in his, “yeah, I do. I’m really sorry, Ginny.”

“So am I,” she agreed, swiping a rouge tear that had fallen down her cheek, “I will always care for you.”

“Me too.”

She lent forward and kissed him softly, once more looking at him intently before standing and heading for the door.

“I hope you find your laughter again, Harry,” she told him with that same, sad smile.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you at Christmas,” she continued as he stood to follow her, “and Hermione too, I guess.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Harry asked, trying to be a bit thoughtful about it all.

“I’ll be fine,” she smiled, “mum, on the other hand, may be a different story. I’ll work on her before then, though. Will you break it to Ron?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, thinking, “he should be fine, I think,” they paused when they got to the door, Ginny once more turning to him, “I am really sorry, Gin,” he said again, “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” she sighed, looking up at him sadly, “but this is for the best. And I’m sorry for today. I think it just shows that I really don’t know you as well as I should,” she kissed him again, “see you around, Harry.”

And with that, she was gone.

Harry lent against the closed door for a moment and thought about what had just happened. He and Ginny had broken up, something that he had wanted to do for quite a while now, and it wasn’t as horrible as he thought it would be.

And he got to see Ginny half naked.

Smiling, he decided he’d keep that little bit of information to himself when he told Ron. Feeling somewhat relieved, he made his way up the stairs and down towards Hermione’s room. He could hear the sound of music coming from the slightly open door and peaking in, he watched Hermione humming to herself as she painted one of the walls.

“You could use magic, you know,” he said from the door jam, “it would be a lot quicker and less messy…”

“But much less fun,” she replied, turning to him – paint brush in hand, “how’d it go?”

“We broke up,” he answered shortly, making his way into the room.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “it’s for the best. And we’re going to try and be friends. I guess we were heading in different directions.”

“Still, it must be difficult.”

“It’s a bit of a relief, to be honest,” he mumbled, “especially after today.”

“Ginny never was backwards in coming forward,” Hermione smiled, turning back to her wall to resume painting, “especially when it came to boys.”

“Do you…do you think she’s, well, more…er…experienced?”

“You mean, do I think Ginny’s had sex?” Hermione asked, turning back to Harry, “blimey Harry, we’re not kids! But no, I don’t think Ginny’s had sex. There were rumours, of course – she did have quite a string of boyfriends – but I think she was waiting for the right bloke. Which was you.”

“Right,” he sighed, then added, “it’s strange talking about this stuff with you.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?”

“No, because you’re Hermione,” he replied seriously.

“I am getting better, Harry,” she told him with a small smile, “I mean, I hit rock bottom and the only way from there is up, isn’t it? Which includes working on my relationship with you, with being just friends with you. And I am human with human urges. I think of sex too, you know. After all, I’m a nineteen year old girl!”

“It’s just strange to think of you like that…”

“Thanks Harry!”

“No!” he exclaimed, blushing, “not like that! I mean, it’s easy to think of you in a sexual way…”

“Really?”

“No! Well, actually…no! I meant, you thinking of sex not thinking of you and sex…”

“I think it might pay for you to be quiet now, Harry,” she laughed.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he sighed, joining in with her smile, “do you want some help painting?”

“Oh, you don’t have to…”

“Come on, it’s not like I have anything else to do now. It’ll be fun.”

She looked at him curiously, thinking things over while Harry just stood and waited. Today had started badly but it seemed to be getting better. And seeing Hermione laugh, even at his expense, was fantastic. After a moment, she smiled shyly and nodded.

“It might pay to get changed,” she said softly, “there is a good chance you’ll get paint on your clothes.”

With a grin, Harry went to his room to change, feeling better than he had done in a very long while.

9. Surprises

A/N – thank you once again for the reviews – they are brilliant. Only four chapters left after this (I think) so we’re nearing the end. Enjoy.

Chapter 9 - Surprises

I can’t do this.

Harry stopped and jammed his hands further into his coat pockets in an attempt to get rid of the winter chill. Ginny, Ron and Luna were already at the Tonks’ house, knocking on the door – but Harry didn’t want to go any further.

Hermione, who was a few steps ahead of him, also stopped, sadly staring at a spot in the snow just in front of her.

“This is going to be difficult,” she stated with a sigh, her breaths coming out in puffy white clouds.

“Yeah,” he answered briefly.

Hermione didn’t say anything for a moment, which surprised Harry. He expected her to tell him that they had to visit, that it was for the best, that they hadn’t seen Teddy since the funerals and it was now after Christmas. Instead, she chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully before looking back at him.

“Do you remember how happy Remus was when he told us Teddy was born?” she asked with a sad smile. Harry sighed – he did remember. At a time where there had been so much darkness, the birth of baby Ted had been a beacon of light. That disappeared with the death of his parents.

“They made their choice, Harry,” Hermione continued, seemingly knowing what he was thinking as she took his hands out of his pockets and held them in her gloved ones, making him look at her, “they had as much to fight for as everyone else. Actually, they had more…”

“They should’ve stayed with their son,” he growled.

“Perhaps,” she reasoned, “but Tonks had just lost her dad, had lost her cousin and her aunt was fighting against us. Remus? Well, Remus had lost his friends who were like a family to him. They both wanted to fight for those who had fallen for them so that Teddy could live in peace…”

“Instead Teddy has no-one!”

“That isn’t true,” she told him gently, “he has his grandmother, aunts and uncles. And he has you, Harry. He isn’t going to be treated like you were.”

“He doesn’t have me,” he sighed again, his anger ebbing away, “I can’t even look at him without thinking of Remus and Tonks.”

“I know what you mean,” she agreed, sighing herself, “which makes this really difficult. But I keep thinking about how happy Remus was that he had a son, and now that son is being raised and loved by his grandmother. He still has a family that loves him and I want to be part of that. For Remus and Tonks.”

“I’m his godfather and I can’t even look at him,” he said quietly, “it’s my fault…”

“No, Harry – it isn’t your fault!” she shot back, gripping his hands tightly, “it’s Voldemort’s fault! Stop blaming yourself for every death that happened!”

They stared at each other, Harry seeing a fire in Hermione’s eyes that had been missing for so long. He gave her a lopsided smile as he squeezed her hands.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“What for?”

“For understanding.”

She just nodded and gave him a small smile, the light once more leaving her eyes. She released one of his hands, but held onto the other as she began walking to the house, the others gone inside. After a moment, where all he could hear was their feet crunching on the snow, she spoke.

“I’m really nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not very good with babies,” she explained, “and because I’m a girl, everyone just naturally expects me to be a maternal…girl. What if I have to hold him? What if I drop him?”

“You’ll be fine,” he tried to reassure, smiling to himself but then frowning – he was thinking exactly the same thing, “actually, I’m not very good with babies either…”

Just then, the front door of the Tonks’ home opened and Ron stuck his head out, startling both Harry and Hermione. Hermione released his hand immediately and Harry frowned.

She had stopped hugging him pretty much after The Confession. He didn’t realise how much he took her touches for granted, and how much he enjoyed them, until they had gone. Besides the fact her hand was keeping his warm, he realised that it felt right just holding it and he missed her touch when it disappeared.

“Are you two joining us, or what?” Ron asked them loudly, “there’s presents to open! Mrs Tonks won’t let us eat until we’ve opened the presents!”

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle – trust Ron to be thinking with his stomach! They quickly followed Ron into the house, removing boots, coats and gloves as they did so. The house was cosy and warm, Christmas decorations still displayed (although Christmas had come and gone two weeks ago) and the smell of food wafting through made Harry’s mouth water.

When he got to the living room, it was cramped full of people – baby Teddy sitting on the knee of a glowing Ginny.

“There you are!” Mrs Tonks welcomed as she stood and gave Harry a hug, “we were wondering where you two had got to! Oh, it’s been such a long time!”

“Um, yeah,” Harry started uncomfortably as Mrs Tonks hugged Hermione, “sorry about that. It’s just that…”

“Oh, no need to explain,” Mrs Tonks interrupted with a smile, “I realise how hard this must be for you. Besides, you’re a busy young man! It’s just so nice to see you now! Come on in and sit down.”

He looked around and saw that there was only one available seat next to Ginny. He indicated to Hermione that she should sit there, Hermione looking back at him in horror. Both Ginny and Luna were cooing over the baby, who was enjoying the attention, while Ron was eagerly getting out the presents he had been carrying in his backpack. Hermione’s hesitation ended when Mrs Tonks’ took Hermione’s arm and guided her to the free space.

“Here you go, Hermione,” the older woman beamed, “you sit here and I’ll get another chair for Harry. It’s not often we have so many guests!”

Harry watched as Hermione sat down, trying hard not to look uncomfortable. She glanced at Teddy, who reached out to her with a chubby hand, giggling, and a look of softness crossed her face like Harry had never seen before.

He was ushered into his own chair with Mrs Tonks sitting in another she had ‘drawn’ up while Ron sat amongst the small pile of presents on the floor.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” Harry asked their host politely.

“Yes, thank you Harry,” she replied with a smile, “Betty, Ted’s sister, has grandchildren of her own so it was nice to spend time with family. It’s always worse in the holidays…”

The room went quiet for a moment as they all thought of those who hadn’t been around to share Christmas with them this time, the only sound being the giggling of Teddy.

Ron, Hermione and Harry had all gone to The Burrow for Christmas where everyone was trying to compensate for the loss of Fred – especially around Mrs Weasley or George. And it worked.

Adding Luna and her father to the mix saw the festivities go to great heights and the memories of those who they had lost were celebrated with a mixture of laughter and tears.

Strangely, it was George who seemed to enjoy Christmas the most. He had been working hard in the shop (with sales going through the roof) plus he had started to date Angelina and if anything, seemed alright with the world. George was determined to make sure everyone had fun, always being in the middle of whatever activity that was going on.

Harry hadn’t been sure if it was an act or if George was really as happy as he seemed. On New Year’s Eve, he got the chance to ask and was told that it was how Fred would’ve wanted it – the other to go on, enjoying life as much as they could. They had discussed the chances of one of them dying during the war, both vowing to carry on no matter what happened. George was keeping his vow to his brother.

Things between Harry and Ginny coped with the festivities, Ginny being a bit quiet around him at times but she seemed to enjoy herself. Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, was initially very disappointed until she was told by pretty much everyone that it was for the best and she needed to accept it.

Which Ron had done with little fanfare. The fact he was spending as much of the holidays that he could with Luna had something to do with it plus Harry got the impression that Ron felt it was only a matter of time before Harry would start dating Hermione.

Harry wasn’t so sure.

His relationship with Hermione was nearly back to normal. They talked and laughed together, now able to be in the same room without feeling awkward. But it wasn’t like it was before the war, Harry knew that. She didn’t hug him, or touch him and when she laughed or smiled, it never reached her eyes.

But she was trying.

And Christmas had been difficult for her. Her parents had sent her a Christmas card as the Wilkins’ but it hadn’t been the same. She had spent the whole day in her room after the card had arrived.

Harry glanced at her now and smiled as Teddy was reaching out to her, his tiny hand tangled in her hair.

“I think you have an admirer,” he joked, making her blush.

“He just likes my hair,” she replied, giving the small boy a smile and a funny face, which he giggled at with joy.

“Here you go, Hermione,” Ginny smiled, “you hold him.”

“Oh, no,” Hermione protested, trying to inch away but finding she couldn’t move on the cramped couch, “no, that’s alright. I’m sure Teddy doesn’t want to be handed around like a parcel…”

“He loves it,” Mrs Tonks countered kindly, “and I do think he has taken a shine to you.”

Everyone watched as Ginny handed the toddler over to Hermione, who took Teddy gingerly as he found a secure place on her lap. Teddy seemed to think it great fun and kept looking up at her with his big, blue eyes, laughing every time Hermione smiled or pulled a funny face.

“Right, well, I think Teddy should open his presents,” Ron suggested from his place on the floor, “how’d you want to do this, Mrs Tonks?”

“Since you seem so keen on the presents, Ron,” Mrs Tonks laughed, “why don’t you open them on Teddy’s behalf?”

Ron liked this idea and immediately set to his task. Hermione turned Teddy around so he could watch, but after the first present was unwrapped to show a multi-coloured, bouncy ball, she slid down from the couch and sat on the floor so Teddy could play with his new toy.

Harry watched with a smile on his face. For the first time since she had come back, she was relaxed, even happy, playing with a baby that she had been scared of dropping. Everyone was laughing at the child’s antics when something strange happened.

Teddy suddenly wasn’t Teddy any more. He had black, curly hair – the perfect mixture of Harry’s colour and the ringlet’s of Hermione – and Harry felt like he was watching her play with their child. It lasted barely a second, the feeling coming and going in the blink of an eye, but it stunned Harry beyond belief.

He wanted a future with Hermione. He wanted a family with her. He wanted her to play with their children.

He wanted to be more than a brother to her.

He wanted her.

It was like he had woken up from a deep sleep, images flashing through in his brain in quick succession. Hermione staying by his side during the Triwizard Tournament when no-one else did. Hermione fighting along side him at the Department of Mysteries. Hermione nearly dying and the panic he felt. Hermione kissing him on the cheek at the end of their fourth year. Hermione hugging him time and time again. Hermione always being there. Hermione always putting him first. Hermione looking beautiful at the Yule Ball. Hermione telling him that she loved him.

He shook his head in confusion – what does this mean? Does it mean he loves her?

“Right, let’s have some dinner, shall we?”

Mrs Tonks’ voice cut through his thoughts as he watched everyone stand to make their way into the dinning room. Hermione was still holding Teddy and was oblivious to his turmoil, as was Ron and Luna. But Ginny was watching him with a curious look on her face. Blushing, he stood and followed the others.

Lunch happened with Harry remaining quiet, aware of the conversations taking place around him but his mind stuck on the knowledge that there was a possibility he was in love with Hermione. He had no idea what to do next, whether he should confess to her as she did to him all those months ago.

The concept was so scary to him, he shelved it at once. He needed to be sure within himself before telling anyone let alone Hermione.

He listened to Mrs Tonks talk about her Christmas and what she had been up to since they saw her last. He heard Ron talk about life as an Auror and Ginny, with input from Luna, described what had taken place at Hogwarts.

Harry listened and ate and thought.

Before he knew it, the meal was over and Ginny was volunteering him to help her with the dishes. Mrs Tonks protested but Ginny was adamant, explaining she wanted to have a quiet word with Harry so with puzzled looks from everyone (including himself) he found himself alone with his ex-girlfriend in the kitchen of Ted and Andromeda Tonks.

“Are you alright, Harry?” she asked, as soon as they were alone.

“Er, yes, fine,” he replied automatically, heading for the sink.

“Really?” she quirked an eyebrow, “because you don’t look fine. In fact, you look like you’ve been struck by a bludger,” she paused and Harry busied himself with the dishes, not saying anything. After a moment, she continued, “how’s things going with Hermione?”

“What’d you mean?”

“I mean, is there something going on with you and Hermione?”

“No!”

“Well, there should be,” she stated matter-of-factly, and with a flick of her wand, the dishes began to clean themselves.

“Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?” he sighed, running a weary hand through his hair, ignoring her comment.

“Actually, no,” she told him, suddenly sounding nervous, “I…I need your help about something?”

“What is it?” he asked, curious and concerned at the same time.

“Um, this is really awkward,” she began, turning to him, “but, you see, there’s this boy that I want to go out with…”

“You don’t need my permission to date, Ginny.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission, Harry,” she spat back, folding her arms crossly, “I was asking for your help!”

“How can I help you?” he frowned, used to her little anger bursts enough to ignore it, “I’m probably not the best person to ask about boy trouble.”

“It’s not boy trouble, as such,” she told him, “it’s more…I don’t know how…I’m not too sure…” she paused and Harry’s frown deepened – it’s not like her to be so tongue-tied.

“What’s going on, Ginny?” he prompted when the pause continued. She didn’t say anything for a moment more but then took a deep breath, looked him directly in the eye, cast a silencing charm on the room, then spoke.

“I want to go out with Draco Malfoy,” she blurted, “but I won’t until I tell you and Ron.”

“Malfoy!” Harry shouted, “you want to date Malfoy?”

“Yes…”

“How could you want to…the slimy git…he tried to kill Dumbledore!”

“But he didn’t!” she shouted back, “look, I know you and him have had differences…”

“Differences?” he yelled, fist clenching, “he’s tormented me from day one! He’s abused Hermione and the Malfoy’s have looked down on the Weasley’s for generations!”

“I know, I know,” she admitted, trying to placate him, “but he’s changed, Harry! The whole thing with Voldemort…we’ve talked a lot and he’s a really…”

“Don’t say ‘sweet guy’, Ginny, because that’s just a load of shit,” he growled, “he stood there and watched Hermione get tortured. He let Death Eaters into Hogwarts which nearly got Bill killed! Because of that, Dumbledore was killed! Malfoy is many things and ‘sweet’ isn’t one of them!”

“I wasn’t going to say he’s sweet!” she growled back at him, “and he doesn’t deny any of those things, he doesn’t deny that he was a prat! But he is a product of his family – just like you…”

“You’re saying Malfoy is just like me?” Harry sneered.

“In a way, yes!” she replied, a note of pleading in her voice, “he was brought up thinking that Dark Magic was the answer, that You-Know-Who was the ultimate leader! Seeing Hermione tortured…he couldn’t do anything!”

“He could’ve tried to stop…”

“How?” she fired at him, “he told me he tried to pretend he didn’t recognise you and if…if he had tried to stop them, they would’ve killed him! He had already been crucioed before, even his mum had…”

“That doesn’t make it right…”

“Seeing Hermione hurt like that, Draco knew then he didn’t want to be part of it anymore…”

“He was still fighting against us at Hogwarts! When Crabbe got killed!”

“And you saved his life,” Ginny continued, more quietly now, “after everything he put you through, you still saved his life. It made him a better person, Harry.”

Harry continued to glare at her, trying to reconcile what she was telling him with the Malfoy he knew. Could he really have changed that much that Ginny wanted to be with him? And hadn’t she told him when they broke up that she wanted someone who could laugh? Malfoy didn’t laugh.

But then he remembered seeing them outside Hagrid’s hut, how Malfoy had whispered something to her and she had giggled.

“Have you and him been seeing each other, then,” he asked gruffly.

“We’re in the same classes at school,” she explained, “and we started talking, well arguing at first. But after one shouting match, he kinda let something slip that I think he never meant to tell anyone and we started to talk about things. The more we talked, the more I liked him and things, well, progressed.

“But I told him that nothing could happen between us before I talked it over with you and Ron. I’m not asking for your permission, Harry, or for you to even like him. But I am asking for you to give him a chance. And for you to help me tell Ron.”

“This isn’t just some sick way of getting back at me, is it?” he spat.

“Not everything is about you, Harry,” she snapped – he just glared at her. She sighed heavily and carried on, “I asked him that, early on, and he swore that that wasn’t the case…”

“He’s lied before…”

“Not this time,” she stated firmly, “he knows I won’t take his usual rubbish and that if he lies to me, it’s over.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Gin?” Harry carried on, watching her carefully.

“Yeah, I do,” she answered confidently, “we’re suited, Harry. Both proud, stubborn and spoiled,” she chuckled, “but we can handle that. I really think this can work.”

Harry nodded as he thought about everything she had said, debating whether he could actually give Draco Malfoy a chance. Sighing, he finally came to a conclusion.

“Does Luna know?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good, because if anyone can keep Ron calm, it’s her,” Harry instructed as the dishes started to put themselves away, “it’ll be better if you tell him when we leave here, get it out of the way. He’s not going to be happy, Ginny.”

“I know,” she agreed, “does that mean you’re okay with this?”

“I’ll give Malfoy a chance,” Harry told her, “on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“That if he hits you, or uses dark magic or shows any indication that he’s returning to the Death Eater fold,” he said sternly, “that you get out of there without looking back…”

“He won’t!”

“Promise me Ginny,” he continued sternly, “because even though you see something in him that you like, I still don’t trust him and it will take a lot for that to happen.”

“I can look after myself…”

“Of that, I have no doubt. Promise me, no matter how deep into the relationship you are, at the first sign of trouble, you leave.”

They stared at each other as Ginny debated with herself. Harry just waited – he wouldn’t back down unless he got that promise. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do if she refused, but he didn’t think it would come to that. After a while, she nodded.

“I promise,” she sighed, “but he won’t.”

“Then there won’t be a problem,” Harry smiled, “come on, let’s get back to the others.”

They made their way to the door, the dishes done and put away.

“So, are you going to ask Hermione out?” Ginny asked casually, just before opening the door, stopping Harry in his tracks.

“What?” he stammered, “why?”

“Because you should,” she grinned then left him standing there.

He had forgotten about Hermione and his newly discovered feelings for her during the whole ‘Ginny wants to date Malfoy’ news but now Ginny’s words brought it all back to him. What was he going to do?

Think about it, he told himself as he made his way back into the living room, make sure what I’m feeling is real before talking to Hermione. I don’t want to hurt her again.

But as he watched her play with Teddy, then go with Mrs Tonks to put the baby to bed the unmistakeable desire for that to be his child and his family was nearly over-powering. The group of friends left about an hour later after talk about the rebuilding of the Ministry and promises of more regular visits (which Harry vowed to keep if only to see Hermione so happy again).

They had walked for a little bit when he remembered about Ginny and Malfoy and that it was a better time than any to break the news to Ron.

“So Ginny,” he started, “I think it’s time for you to share what you told me after lunch, don’t you?”

She gave him a slightly panicked look before taking a deep breath and nodding. Harry manoeuvred himself next to Ron, separating his friend from Ginny while Luna, knowing what was going on, held on tightly to Ron’s arm on his other side. Hermione was following curiously.

“I like Draco Malfoy and want to date him,” Ginny said in a frantic rush, as if she wanted to get it out of the way as painlessly as possible.

“What?” Hermione gasped, stopping.

“Bloody ferret,” Ron grumbled, still walking much to the surprise of everyone, “still can’t believe we saved his sorry arse.”

“Er, Ron,” Harry ventured after sharing a confused look with Ginny, “did you here what Ginny just said?”

“Yeah,” Ron shrugged, “she mentioned the ferret. That she liked him…” Harry could see the penny drop by the amount of redness that swamped his friends face. He stopped and slowly turned towards Ginny, who was now being shielded by Harry and Hermione. Luna stayed attached to his arm.

“You want to date Malfoy?” he bellowed, trying to get past Harry and Hermione, who stood their ground, “you want to date Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? The slimy git who nearly got us all killed? What the bloody hell are you thinking?”

“He’s changed…” Ginny tried to explain.

“Changed?” Ron repeated loudly, “changed! Prats like Malfoy can’t change! How can you want to date Malfoy? You’ve just broken up with Harry!”

“That was over two months ago…”

“How can you go from Harry to Malfoy?” Ron continued to yell, “Malfoy was fighting against us, for Merlin sake!”

“Ron, calm down,” Hermione tried to placate, but he was beyond listening.

“HIS FATHER TRIED TO KILL US! KILL YOU! HE IS SCUM! I ABSOLUTELY FORBID YOU TO DATE HIM!”

Harry cringed, knowing that was probably the worse thing to say. He was right as Ginny pushed her way through and stood defiantly in front of her brother.

“You forbid me?” she hissed dangerously, “you actually forbid me? Even Harry didn’t ‘forbid me’!”

Now Harry winced as Ron turned onto him.

“You approve of this?”

“I hate Malfoy as much as you do,” Harry told him, trying to stay calm, “but Ginny’s a big girl and she said she knew what she was doing…”

“SHE’S MY LITTLE SISTER!” Ron yelled, “SHE DESERVES BETTER THAN DRACO BLOODY MALFOY!”

“That isn’t your decision to make, Ronald,” Luna piped up in her own wistful way, grabbing Ron’s attention, “Draco cares for Ginny…”

“You knew?”

“Why, yes,” Luna continued with a smile, “we’re in the same classes after all. I must admit, Draco can be horrid at times – but so can you and you are the sweetest boy I know! He’s trying…”

“I don’t care,” Ron growled, no longer shouting at least, “he’s a prat and will always be a prat…”

“Ginny’s asking us to give him a chance, Ron,” Hermione put in gently, “we should at least…”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Ron interrupted, returning his glare to his sister, who glared right back, “I will not allow you to date Draco Malfoy.”

“I’m going to date him anyway, Ron,” Ginny told him haughtily, “I just wanted you to know because I didn’t want to hide the relationship. I understand why you hate him and I’m not asking you to like him. But he will be a part of my life, whether you approve or not.”

Ron glared at all of them one by one, his eyes finally resting on Harry. Harry could guess what was going through his friend’s mind and understood fully why he was so upset. But he also knew that really, they had no choice. If he knew one thing about Ginny Weasley it was she was an extremely determined young lady.

“We need to give her our support, Ron,” he said and Ron nodded.

“Alright,” he mumbled, “but don’t expect me to like him. And if you kiss him in front of me, I swear I’ll throttle the git.”

Harry smiled as Ron stormed off, Luna in tow.

“Thanks Harry,” Ginny grinned as she gave him a hug before following her brother.

“Well, that’s a turn up for the books,” Hermione ventured, starting to walk once more.

“I know,” Harry replied, falling in step with her, “who would’ve thought.”

“You did good, Harry,” Hermione continued, glancing at him, “what with your past with Malfoy.”

“Yeah, well, Ginny would go out with the ferret whether I wanted her to or not,” Harry shrugged, then returned her glance, “what do you think about it all?”

“I just hope Ginny know what she’s doing,” Hermione answered softly, “see you at home.”

And with a pop, she was gone. Harry stood staring at the spot where she was and sighed. A new year and a whole new set of problems, which of course added to the ones he still had. But he’ll keep these to himself, as he always did, until he knows for sure what the hell he was thinking.

In the meantime, life will continue as normal. Hermione is just his friend. Ginny is dating a bloke not Draco Malfoy. And Ron is just growing up. Yep, life will continue just as normal.

10. Crossing the Line

A/N – this is the chapter you’ve been waiting for (I think) – two more chapters and an epilogue (always have to do an epilogue now!!) so not long to go. Hope you enjoy. Oh, this is rather long – sorry!

Chapter 10 – Crossing the Line

“What a load of absolute bollocks!” Harry fumed as he stepped out of the floo and into Grimmauld’s kitchen, barely noticing Hermione setting the table for dinner, “unbelievable!”

“Something wrong, Harry?” she needlessly asked as he ripped off his cloak and threw it into a pile in the corner just as Ron stepped out of fireplace – Harry ignoring both his friends.

“I can’t believe that git!” he continued to rant, his bag joining his cloak on the pile, “I’m barely out of school!”

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, watching Harry pace.

“Smith asked Harry to lead a team…” Ron tried to explain but Harry cut in angrily.

“Hughes and O’Dougal are twice my age!” Harry spat, sitting down heavily in his chair at the table, Hermione joining him, “they’ve been there for ages! I don’t believe this!”

“Smith basically said it was because…” Ron told Hermione as he too, sat down at the dinner table.

“…I’m Harry bloody Potter!” Harry supplied for Ron, “the saviour of the bloody wizarding world! But that doesn’t mean I have a clue – I know bugger all! Neville is better qualified to lead this mission than I am!”

“So, what happened?” Hermione asked, directing her question more to Ron than Harry, thanking Kreacher for the food that he just served up.

“Harry said no, Smith said he didn’t have a choice…” Ron started, beginning to eat when once more, Harry cut in.

“So I told Smith to stick his bloody mission and his bloody job…”

“You quit?”

“Smith wouldn’t let him,” Ron answered between mouthfuls as Harry glared at his plate as if the food had caused him some sort of grave injustice.

“I hate my job,” he grumbled, then as an after thought, “and then…”

“There’s more?” Hermione quizzed, glancing between Harry and Ron.

“Oh yeah,” Ron smiled, “this is good.”

“Ms Agatha Murphy-bloody-Hughes comes and tells me that I have to do a speech at this stupid bloody Victory Ball,” Harry continued as if he hadn’t heard Ron and Hermione at all, “I told her that I didn’t want to and she said I had to so I said that you two had to do one too…”

“…and I said bugger that,” Ron put in with a frown, “there is no bloody way I’m doing a speech.”

“…yeah, I forgot to thank you for you support, Ron,” Harry muttered, shoving a Brussels sprout into his mouth.

“What good would I be, giving a speech,” Ron cried in defence, “it would look brilliant, me standing there, going a fantastic shade of red then mumbling thanks because I can’t think of anything else to say. You and Hermione are better at speech giving than me.”

“Right, because speech giving is something I do,” Harry shot back.

“You can do it a lot better than I can,” Ron countered.

“For goodness sake, I can do the speech,” Hermione cut in, exasperated, as she finished her dinner.

“Brilliant,” Ron grinned, leaning back from his empty plate, “all sorted.”

“Really?” Harry asked, looking over the table at Hermione.

“Sure,” Hermione shrugged, “it will be good practice for me because soon I’ll have to do presentations and such to groups of people for work. I’ll ask Dotty to give me constructive criticism afterwards so I can learn from it. But…” she paused as she looked at both Harry and Ron, “you two are helping write the speech and will both be on stage with me. Harry, I think you will still have to say something because it’s really you people have come to hear…”

“Do I have to?” he whined and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Yes you do,” she told him, “we’ll sit down and work out the speech, well, this weekend I guess since the Ball is Saturday week. I’ll come up with some ideas to get us going…”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ron nodded, “now all we have to do is stop Harry killing Smith and life is good again.”

“Is it really that bad?” Hermione asked both boys.

“Yes,” said Ron.

“Yes,” grumped Harry at the same time.

“Why?”

“Oh, come on Hermione,” Harry spat, sitting upright in his seat, “you know Smith. To him, I’m perfect, I can do no wrong…”

“That’s true,” agreed Ron.

“…even when I balls up, it’s usually someone else’s fault. The bloke’s like Lockhart plus some! He only got the job as supervisor because everyone else was killed!”

“But you’ve been there for nearly a year now…” Hermione frowned, “you’ve been learning heaps…”

“Enough to lead my own team?” Harry growled, “I don’t think so. He won’t listen to me though, and the others are starting to resent me for it!”

“True,” Ron nodded, getting a glare from Harry for his troubles.

“Have you tried talking to him…”

“Yeah,” Harry interrupted, suddenly leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, “but to be honest, Smith isn’t the only problem. I hate it there.”

“Hate it?” she echoed, “you hate being an Auror?”

“Yeah.”

“You could always quit,” Ron suggested, getting another glare. Hermione got up and got them all a butterbeer, Harry’s eyes moving from Ron to her as she walked to the cooler and back to the table.

“Quit?” he looked back to Ron, “and do what? There’s nothing else I can do – I can’t quit!”

“Why not?” Ron asked with a shrug, “you hate the job so find something else. Blimmey Harry, there’s heaps you could do! Play Quidditch for a living! Sell brooms! Do nothing but pose for magazines! Heaps!”

“Well, that’s just being stupid,” Harry grumbled, glancing to Hermione for confirmation that Ron was talking bollocks.

“Actually, I agree with Ron,” she said instead causing both boys to look at her in shock, “though perhaps not those exact occupations.”

“You agree with me?” Ron repeated with such surprise that it was almost comical – Hermione ignored him and turned her attention to the stunned Harry.

“If you hate being an Auror, Harry, then quit,” she stated, accentuating her comment with a sip from her drink, “I don’t quite see you posing for magazines for a living, but the world is your oyster, you just need to find out what kind of work you enjoy doing!”

“I can’t…I can’t just quit!” Harry continued to splutter, “besides, Smith won’t let me! I mean, I basically told him to shove his job today and he laughed in my face!”

“That’s because you didn’t mean it,” Ron told him, getting another bottle of beer, “he can’t actually stop you packing it in.”

Harry thought about it a bit longer and realised that part of him really, really wanted to walk away. He had enough of fighting the bad people of the world and added to the fact that everyone expected him to be brilliant at it didn’t help. They only thing that had stopped him going mental was that Ron, Neville and Seamus were there with him.

The other part of him, however, was telling him he didn’t know how to do anything else. His whole life has been spent fighting Voldemort and he had to admit (if only to himself) he did seem to have a natural flare for getting himself out of tight situations – what other job could use those particular skills?

The truth was, he was ideally suited to be an Auror.

“I know you think that being an Auror is all you are capable of being,” Hermione ventured, breaking into his thoughts (and reading his mind), “but that’s not true at all.”

“She’s right,” Ron agreed, “anyway, you don’t even have to work since you’re filthy rich! Take a holiday! Go overseas and see the world! Have some fun – Merlin knows you deserve it.”

“Holiday?” Harry dumbly repeated.

“Yeah,” Ron continued, “why not?”

Why not indeed? Harry thought hard.

“I’ve never been overseas,” he said absently.

“More reason to go,” Hermione put in, excited, “what a brilliant idea!”

“Come on Hermione, you’re just teasing me now,” Ron deadpanned, “acknowledging that I had two brilliant ideas in one conversation?”

“That’s because you’re not really as thick as you think you are,” Hermione told him with a frown, “I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Ron was so stunned by her comment, he just sat staring at her – Harry filled in the slack.

“I can’t go alone, though,” he smiled, looking at his two friends, “if I go away – you guys would have to come with me.”

Immediately the mood in the room changed.

Hermione looked away quickly, flushing with embarrassment – Harry mentally kicked himself for his insensitivity. And his stupidity.

It had been five months since he first thought that Hermione meant more to him than just a friend yet nothing between them had changed. They had visited the Tonks’ home quite a few times over the months with Teddy’s first birthday a real affair. It had been a joy for Harry to watch Hermione gain more and more confidence whenever she spent time with the baby boy and it really did seem to be when she was truly at peace.

Which didn’t make Harry’s thought process any easier. Often at night he debated with himself about what he was feeling and whether it was real or not. It took him a long time to realise that it was and that he needed to tell her.

But he didn’t.

He was waiting for the right time. For a sign to tell him that it was right, which, he knew, was stupid since he already knew how she felt. And he knew it was selfish of him to continue to hide because the idea of him confessing to her scared the hell out of him – so much for the famous Gryffindor courage.

So in the meantime, he found himself watching her, enjoying her company and on some nights, even fantasising about her.

He really was quite pathetic.

Hermione, in the meantime, was oblivious and continued to remain the best friend she could be. Her transformation from the broken young woman back all those months ago was quite dramatic. Her smile still didn’t reach her eyes with her nightmares continuing to haunt her now and then, and there were also times where she retreated into herself when things got a bit too much – but she was stronger and more capable than ever.

And now, because his relationship with her was so comfortable and familiar, he goes and asks her to go away with him, not thinking at all about how it would make her feel.

Idiot.

“I…I don’t think that’s such a great idea, Harry,” she said tentatively, “why don’t just you and Ron go?”

“’Cause we’ll drive each other barmy,” Ron put in before Harry could say anything, “you have to come, Hermione, because if you don’t then I won’t which means Harry won’t and my brilliant idea won’t happen.”

Harry stayed silent and watched Hermione cautiously. She was deep in thought, chewing her bottom lip endearingly. Suddenly, she looked up at him and Harry knew this was the sign he had been waiting for. He could see her love for him in her eyes, but he could also see her fear. She stared at him for a moment longer until finally, her face softened and she smiled.

“Well, I’ll have to come along then,” she finally answered, looking at Ron, “I know I’ll regret it but…” she shrugged, “how long shall we go for?”

“Luna’s home in two months,” Ron grinned, “I wanna be around for that.”

“That’s really sweet, Ron,” Hermione smiled and Harry chuckled to himself.

“Why don’t we go as soon as possible,” Harry suggested and Ron’s face lit up.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “we could go on Saturday! You can quit, Harry, and I’ll tell Smith that unless he lets me have a holiday, I’ll go as well! It’ll be brilliant!”

“And then we can travel the world until the end of June!” Harry continued, excited, “Hermione, you could use your ‘friend of Harry Potter’ card to get some time off work – I know you don’t like to, but…”

“We can’t leave on Saturday,” she stated firmly.

“Why not?” Ron asked with a frown.

“Because we have to go to the Victory Ball,” she carried on, glancing between the two of them, “I have a case that I have to close before I can go anywhere and we don’t even know where we’re going!”

“Good point,” Ron nodded, “so Harry – where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from the table, “I have an idea! Why don’t I meet you two in the drawing room in a moment. Ron, bring some more butterbeers!”

And with that, she was gone leaving the two bemused boys in her wake. After a moment of stunned silence, they both stood in unison.

“Bet she’s gone to get a book,” Ron said as they went to the cooler.

“I think that’s a pretty safe bet,” Harry smiled, taking the bottles Ron passed him.

“Surely she can’t have a book on how to have a holiday?” Ron continued with a frown. Harry just smiled as they made their way out of the kitchen when Ron added, “you nearly messed that up, mate.”

“What?” Harry asked, knowing exactly what Ron was talking about.

“What were you thinking? Asking Hermione to go away with you?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Harry sighed, his shoulders sagging, “and thanks for talking her into coming.”

“It was the truth,” Ron shrugged, paused, then said, “when are you going to tell her?”

“Tell her?”

“How you feel.” Harry stopped and stared at Ron.

“What do you…”

“Come on Harry,” Ron grumped, “I live in this house with you two and, as Hermione has just pointed out, I’m not that thick. I see how you are around her, how you look at her. You’re gone, my friend.”

“I know,” Harry sighed again, slumping against the wall in the stairwell, “and I am going to tell her, I am. Maybe even tonight.”

“Good,” Ron nodded, “come on, she’ll be waiting.” He started to walk up the stairs and after hesitating for a moment longer, Harry followed.

They entered the drawing room to find Hermione already in there, sitting in front of the coffee table where a large book was placed.

“What took you two so long?” she asked as they came and sat down.

“Just chatting,” Ron answered casually, taking a beer and collapsing down into a chair, “see, I told you she’d have a book.”

“What’s this?” Harry said as a reply, still grinning at Ron’s comment as he sat down next to her on the floor.

“It’s an atlas,” she replied proudly, opening it with a flourish, “it was a present for my tenth birthday! It has a brilliant map of the world in it so you can look at all your options on where you want to go!”

Harry already knew where he wanted to go but decided to hold back that little bit of information as his two friends started to discuss excitedly about the various destinations. He joined in, debating the positives and negatives of some far away locale with gusto but it wasn’t until they reached the Pacific that things started to get serious.

“Blimey, I didn’t realise just how far away Australia is!” Ron exclaimed, peering down at the large island near the bottom of the map – Harry was watching Hermione carefully. Talk about her parents was pretty much non-existent but that was soon about to change.

“It takes about twenty-four hours to fly there,” she told Ron quietly.

“So, what are the pros and cons about Australia?” Harry asked as normally as he could.

“Well, a con would be it’s so bloody far away!” Ron supplied helpfully.

“It’s winter there at the moment,” Hermione offered, her eyes downcast.

“But the pros are there’s so much to see,” Harry argued, “and the fact that it is the other side of the world makes it exciting. Plus, your mum and dad are there, Hermione.”

“That’s not a pro, Harry, and you know it,” she growled, glancing at him briefly.

“You should see them,” he said gently, “you need to set things right.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, “I can’t fix it.”

“Yes we can.”

They looked at each other then, and Harry could see how scared she was.

“I think Harry’s right,” Ron added before standing, “but I’m going to bed and leave you two to talk about everything,” he looked pointedly at Harry. Harry gave the slightest of nods, which Ron seemed to accept because he then said his goodnights and left.

“What’s going on, Harry,” Hermione asked as soon as Ron had gone.

“I think you should see your parents and give them the choice,” Harry replied unwaveringly.

“I’ve taken their choice away, remember?” she spat, “they’re dead. They can’t come back.”

“After everything we’ve been through,” he carried on, more gently this time, “after everything you’ve seen, do you really believe that we couldn’t find a way to be able to bring your parents home?”

“No.”

“Hermione,” he smiled softly, scooting over to where she was now sitting on the couch and taking her hands in his, “nearly ten months ago you showed up on my doorstep devastated because you had sacrificed your family. Why aren’t you jumping at the chance, the opportunity, to get them back?”

“Because,” she whispered after a pause, her eyes filling with tears.

“Because why?”

“What if they don’t choose me?”

Her voice was so quiet, he nearly didn’t hear her but when she began to cry, he quickly drew her in his arms and held her tight.

“How could they not choose you, Hermione?” he told her quietly, “you’re their daughter.”

“But I’ve been so horrid…”

“One thing I’ve learned about families,” he continued, pulling away from her and holding her face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears, “is that they would die for those they love. My parents did it, Remus and Tonks did it and even Mrs Weasley took on Bellatrix to save Ginny. Your parents love you and I know they would do anything to continue to be part of your life. You just need to give them a chance.”

They were so close he could see nearly every freckle on the bridge of her nose. She was so beautiful, all he wanted to do was kiss away her tears. Instead, he waited and after a moments pause, she gave a small nod of acceptance.

“You’re right,” she smiled weakly, “I need to give them a chance. When did you get to be so smart?”

“I’ve been hanging around you too long, I think,” he smiled back – but then words escaped him. Her eyes were still shining with tears yet they were looking at him with such intensity he couldn’t speak.

And then she kissed him.

It felt like his head exploded with a multitude of amazing sensations and when the kiss quickly intensified, he was lost. His hands were in her hair, holding her to him while she began running her hands up and down his back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Their tongues had found each other, exploring mouths with unbridled passion, making their kiss heated and intense. When she straddled him, her fingers starting to unbutton his shirt, his body reacted accordingly making him suddenly aware where things were going.

“Hermione,” he groaned, tearing his mouth away from hers and pushing her back slightly – she continued to undo his shirt, “Hermione, stop.”

“Please,” she said, her face flushed as she looked at him with wide, beautiful eyes – all traces of her tears now gone, “please, give me this Harry.”

She began peppering his bare chest with kisses yet he was determined to fight off his desire to ensure she knew where her actions would take them.

“But…” he managed to strangle out and she paused again.

“I know all the arguments,” she breathed to him, “I know, Harry. I don’t care.”

With that she ran her tongue over his nipple, making him moan involuntarily and all his resistance was gone. He pulled her face back up to his and kissed her passionately before starting to kiss down her neck.

In the small part of his brain that wasn’t consumed by what he was doing, he felt her take something from her back pocket and he felt the now familiar feeling of being pushed through a tube. He became aware he was on a bed and when Hermione pushed him backwards, he recognised it was her room. The thought that it was pretty incredible she was able to Apparate at this point of time, when he was finding it difficult just to think straight, passed through his mind before he allowed himself to concentrate solely on the beautiful woman in front of him.

The feeling was like nothing he had ever experienced before and as he lay there with Hermione in his arms, he couldn’t quite believe that it had happened. He had just had sex. And his first time was with Hermione. She had felt so good, he hadn’t lasted long and she hadn’t reached the same level of pleasure as he had but he thought, with a stupid smile, that next time he would make sure she had the same experience.

Next time.

He hugged her in tighter.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said after a while and Harry frowned.

“What’d you mean?” he asked, looking down on her.

“I…I realise that…er…this means a lot less for you than it does for me,” she continued hesitantly, “and that it changes nothing…”

“Hermione,” Harry began, leaning on one elbow so he could see her properly, “this changes everything.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she told him firmly, “when I kissed you, I knew that for you it was just sex, that it wouldn’t change how you felt about me. I knew that! But I have dreamed about you for so long, wanted you for long that when you were looking at me like you were…”

“How can you think that what just happened between us meant nothing to me?” he frowned, “that I would just use you because I know how you feel about me and I wanted…I don’t know, a shag or something? How could you think I would do that to you?”

“Oh Harry, that’s not what I meant!” she cried, “it’s just that…I instigated it and I know you would never…”

“I can say no, Hermione,” he stated calmly, “I did with Ginny and if I really didn’t want to do this with you, I would’ve stopped it.”

“You…you wanted to be with me?”

“Yes,” he replied, putting a strand of her wayward hair behind her ear. He knew this was the perfect time to tell her just how much he felt; that he had been dreaming about her as well – but she looked so beautiful, laying there with her hair haloing her head on the pillow, her bare shoulders enticing him to what he now knew lay under the sheets and her eyes watching him with such love and care.

So instead, he kissed her slowly and gently, loving the way she felt when he rolled her onto her back and he hovered over her. He was ready again, but this time he wanted their lovemaking to be about her. He started to explore her body with the touch of both his mouth and his hands, finding out the places that made her gasp or groan. Her skin was so soft, her smell so intoxicating that he was quickly lost in her once more.

When he reached her core, exploring that too with gentle touches, he felt her pleasure beginning to build and it wasn’t until she cried out with the most beautiful cry that he let himself be satisfied, entering her and allowing his release as any thought of holding on was impossible.

He fell asleep then, Hermione spooned into him – her regular breathing telling him that she too, was now sated. His nightmares stayed away so that when he woke, he felt the most refreshed than he had for quite a while. Sun was streaming through the windows, telling him it was quite late, but he didn’t care. Rolling over in Hermione’s bed, he went to look at her and tell her what he needed to.

But she wasn’t there.

Jumping out of the bed, he hastily dressed, made his way to his room – showered and then dressed again. He stopped in the rooms he thought she may be in as he made his way downstairs, but the library and drawing room were also empty. When she wasn’t in the kitchen either, he ran an exasperated hand through his hair and called out for Kreacher.

“Master Harry!” the house elf exclaimed in obvious surprise, “the Miss said you were unwell!”

“I’m fine…”

“You were not to be disturbed,” Kreacher continued, “is Master sure? The Miss was quite adamant!”

“I’m sure,” Harry assured, “look, Kreacher – where’s Hermione?”

“She’s at work,” Kreacher informed him, “she went with Weasey…”

“Work?” Harry repeated dumbly, relaxing somewhat. He had totally forgotten it was Tuesday and theoretically, he should be at work as well.

He still needed to speak to Hermione. Grabbing some floo, he was all set to head off but found his way blocked by his house elf, who was scowling dangerously up at him.

“Master must eat before leaving the house!”

Sighing, Harry sat down and waited to be served. While a meal of pumpkin soup, fresh bread and various cut cheeses was put before him, Harry tried to work out what he was going to do. He needed to see Hermione and make sure she understood how much things had changed between them because he got the impression that she thought things were still the same.

He had to do something about his job and resigning was the option he was going for.

And he needed to start planning the trip to Australia.

Polishing off the soup, he was allowed to leave and quickly made his way to Hermione’s floor.

“Harry!” he was welcomed as he walked out of the lift, “Hermione isn’t here!”

“Er, do you know where she is, Dotty?” Harry asked the friendly woman who was well used to both Ron and Harry visiting Hermione over the past months.

“She’s at Umbridge’s trial,” Dotty answered with a frown, “I thought you’d know that.”

Harry mentally kicked himself. Of course he knew Hermione was at the trial, it had been going on for nearly six weeks now and was finally at the last stages. Harry himself had been involved at the early sessions, even as a witness, recalling his torture at the ex-professor’s hands during her stint at Hogwarts. Dolores Umbridge’s trial was long and complicated and something Hermione had been involved with from the very beginning.

Of course she was there.

“Right,” he muttered, “I forgot.”

“Is everything alright?” Dotty asked, coming closer, “Hermione was a bit flustered as well…”

“Was she?” Harry asked before he could stop himself then blushed furiously, “er, no, everything’s fine. Thanks Dotty.”

He quickly left the floor, quietly pleased that at least Hermione was a bit out of sorts as well. Hopefully it was in a good way. The elevator told him he had reached level one, and with a deep breath, he made his way to the Minister’s office.

Harry very rarely used his ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’ status and instead tried hard to be treated like everyone else. But today he decided it was time collect a couple of well deserved favours.

The floor wasn’t as busy as it was directly after the war, but the large boards listing all the work to be done were still there as were a small group of workers still organising the restructure. Harry ignored them all as he made his way to the Minister’s personal assistant, hoping that Shacklebolt was in his office.

“Hello, Mr Potter,” the friendly woman greeted, her name badge telling Harry her name was Mary.

“Hi Mary,” he smiled and noted that she actually flush a little, “is Minister Shacklebolt around?”

“He is, but not for long,” Mary told him as she stood, “I’ll see if he can spare some time.”

Harry waited as she went into the large office sitting behind the desk and let out a sigh of relief when he was told he could enter. After hearty welcomes, Harry told the Minister that he was planning to resign, that he would be available if there was any major trouble and that he was going to be heading away for six weeks with Hermione and Ron. It was here he asked for his favours, seeing if Kingsley could pull some strings if either Hermione or Ron’s bosses won’t let them go.

Kingsley assured him he would.

Glad that was sorted, Harry now made his way back to his own office, making a beeline for his cubicle. He started to pick out his personal belongings from the manuals, books and parchment that cluttered his desk – grabbing a blank piece of parchment and writing his letter of resignation on it. That done, he went to find Ron.

His friend wasn’t in his cubicle and neither was Neville. Seamus, however, was and after his initial surprise that Harry wasn’t in fact sick, told him that Ron, Neville and some others were out but were expected back in half an hour.

Harry nodded then made his way to his supervisor’s office, handing his stunned boss his letter of resignation (as of immediately) then made his way back to his cubicle to wait. His boss, Smith, unsuccessfully tried to talk Harry around, even pleading with him with promises of ‘what ever he wanted.’

Ron arrived during this time, and ignoring his now ex-boss, Harry grabbed Ron and dragged him down the corridor into one of the interrogation rooms, securing it with a wave of his wand.

“You saw Hermione this morning, right?” Harry fired at Ron.

“Yeah,” Ron frowned, “did you just quit?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, “what was she like?”

“Just a minute,” Ron carried on, his frown deepening, “you just told Smith to stuff it then drag me off into here straight after a mission to discuss Hermione? You’ll get me fired!”

“Smith would be mental to fire you straight after losing me,” Harry told him absently, “it’s not going to happen. Besides, I saw Kingsley today to make sure you get your time off and he’s going to make sure you do without any hassles. You’ll be fine. So, what was she like?”

“Who?”

“Hermione!”

“Oh,” Ron crossed his arms suspiciously, “why?”

“Don’t push me, Ron,” Harry hissed under his breath.

“”Okay, okay,” the redhead grinned, holding his hands up in defeat, “she was fine, I guess. A bit preoccupied but I didn’t think too much of it what with everything going on…”

“Did she seem upset…or…or happy?”

“What’s going on, Harry?” Ron asked, leaning against the wall, “did you talk to her?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, what happened?”

“I slept with her.”

“Slept with her.”

“Yeah.”

“I…I don’t understand,” Ron continued hesitantly and when Harry glanced at him, he could see the tell-tale sign of redness tipping his ears, “when you say, ‘slept with her’, do you mean, like, falling asleep on the couch or something?”

“No,” Harry sighed, sitting down on one of the chairs, “no, I mean I slept with her.”

“You two had sex?” Ron exploded, advancing on Harry, “I don’t believe this! Did you tell her how you felt? Did you tell her you love her?”

Harry dipped his head into his hands and said nothing.

“You do love her, don’t you?” Ron growled, leaning over the table at Harry.

“I…I don’t know,” Harry answered truthfully, jumping back when Ron shoved the table angrily at him.

“That’s not the right answer, Potter,” Ron growled menacingly, “Hermione is not some slag you’ve picked up for a quick shag!”

“I know that!” Harry growled back, standing so he was now face to face with his friend, “bloody hell, why does everyone think that I just go around having sex with anything that moves! I do have some restraint you know!”

“Really? Because you’ve got a shite way of showing it!”

Harry was ready to tell Ron that he showed that restraint when it came to his sister but quickly bit his tongue as the two of them glared at each other.

“What happened last night happened because I care for her – why can’t you see that?” Harry bit out.

“Because you’ve never told her what’s going on with you,” Ron gritted, “you’ve known she loves you for months now and you broke up with Ginny last year – you’ve had plenty of time to tell her how you feel! And now…now you’ve…I don’t believe this!”

Ron shoved the table once more before turning his back on Harry and pacing the room. Harry stood straight and sighed.

“I don’t regret what happened last night, Ron,” he said, “but I know I should’ve talked to her first – I was going to but, well, it all got out of control and then she had gone by the time I woke up this morning. I…I think she’s really unsure about where things stand with us now and I want to make that right but I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you love her?” Ron asked, still facing the wall.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied, shaking his head, “I honestly don’t. I know I want to make her happy and that I can’t imagine my life without her in it. I know that I see her in my future. She’s the most important person in my life.”

“You plonker,” Ron humphed, finally turning around, “what’d you think love is? What you just said, how you are around her, how she is with you – that’s love, mate.”

“You think so?”

“You need to tell her,” Ron said in a way of reply, no longer angry.

“That’s why I’m here,” Harry stated, making his way to Ron, “how can I fix this?”

Ron thought hard.

“You probably should do something romantic,” he finally suggested.

“Romantic?” Harry repeated, “like what?”

“You’re asking me?” Ron muttered, sighing when Harry nodded, “I dunno. That book says girls like flowers and candlelit dinners and stuff like that…”

“Book?”

“Yeah,” Ron smiled, “remember? I gave you a copy for your seventeenth birthday. ‘How to Charm Witches’. It was really good, got me Hermione…” he chuckled slightly, “and you got her without having to read the book. I can’t believe how thick I am sometimes.”

“Right,” Harry continued, ignoring Ron’s self-musings, “I could do her a nice dinner with candles and stuff. What’d you think?”

“Sure,” Ron shrugged, “I’ll stay at mum and dad’s tonight, give you the place to yourselves.”

“Thanks, Ron.”

“Yeah, well, don’t balls it up this time,” Ron grumbled as Harry gave him a friendly whack on the back, the both of them heading for the door, “I still can’t believe it. You and Hermione…now there’s a mental image I never want to think about.”

Harry just laughed and left his friend to head back home. He told Kreacher what he wanted to do and while the elf started cooking a lovely meal, Harry prepared formal dinning room ready for Hermione’s arrival.

At five-thirty, Harry was in the kitchen, nervously watching the hearth. When it sprung into life, he jumped up, wiped his sweaty palms onto his trouser legs and waited for Hermione to step out of the floo.

She looked nervous when she saw him there, as well as a bit surprised, but she gave him a small smile as she brushed some soot from her robes.

“Hi,” she greeted.

“Hey,” he replied, “er…how was your day?”

“Busy, what with the trial,” she answered, “you?”

“Well, I quit today so that was something different.”

“You quit?” and suddenly, all the awkwardness was gone. She began to bombard him with questions, making sure he was alright with his decision while he steered her towards the dinning room. She thought they were heading to the drawing room, their normal haunt, and questioned him when he directed her in a different direction.

When he opened the door, the room was lit softly by candles, the table set for two with a huge bunch of red roses sitting in the middle. He heard her gasp so he turned to her and saw her hiding her mouth with her hand.

“I…I thought we might do something special for dinner,” Harry offered.

“Oh my,” she cried, “Harry, this is beautiful.”

“Would you like something to drink?” he smiled, feeling slightly more confident as he took her hand and led her to the table, holding the chair out for her as she sat down, “we have wine, if you like.”

“That would be lovely,” she breathed, “just a little though.”

Harry poured the wine and then sat, Kreacher arriving with their meal within seconds afterwards. Harry asked Hermione about her day and soon the conversation was once more relaxed and familiar. It wasn’t until the meal was nearly over that he knew it was time to have the conversation that he should’ve started the night before. He waited for a quiet patch, took a deep breath and spoke.

“Hermione,” he ventured, “er…I think we should talk about what happened last night.”

“I agree,” she sighed, glancing at him as she fiddled with her half drunk wine glass, “I’m really sorry, Harry.”

“Sorry?” Harry frowned, taken aback, all other thoughts disappearing, “what are you sorry for? Do…do you regret it?”

“Oh Harry,” she smiled, moving closer to him and taking his hands in hers, “how could I regret something that I’ve been dreaming about for years? But, well, I guess that’s my problem. You’ve known how I’ve felt about you for nearly a year now and I’ve tried so hard to get past that so we can continue being the friends that we always have been but last night that all went terribly pear shaped…”

“You do regret it!”

“No, I don’t,” she told him, “please, let me try and explain,” pausing, she looked at their hands as she got her thoughts together, Harry waiting with his heart going a million miles an hour, his eyes never leaving her. After a moment, she looked back up at him and smiled, “yesterday was just so…barmy! I had spent the day at the trial defending you against accusations from Umbridge as she tried to get herself out of twenty years in Azkaban. She kept firing insults and innuendo’s about you at me, trying to paint you in a bad light and herself as the protector of all that is good. Stupid old cow,” she paused again at the memory, then carried on.

“When I got home, I was all worked up but when you burst out of the floo like you did, I totally forgot what she had gone on about. You were so angry but you were also so alive with a passion and fire that’s been missing for so long. You were the Harry I had fallen in love with.

“Then the talk turned to the holiday and you got more excited, which was brilliant. It all went wrong when you said you wanted to go to Australia.”

“Hermione…” he interrupted but she ignored him and continued talking.

“It upset me – talking…talking about my parents always does – but when you looked at me, quite frankly you were pretty much irresistible…”

“Irresistible?”

“Your eyes, Harry, they’re, well…” she chuckled slightly and dropped her gaze for a moment then looked back at him, “you have amazing eyes. Anyway, I realise that I really didn’t give you much choice and that I’ve probably messed things up between us…”

“Didn’t you hear me tell you last night that I wanted it to happen?” he interrupted again.

“Yes I did,” she smiled, “but I know you Harry Potter. You would say that to spare my feelings. Like I said, this changes nothing…”

“And like I said, this changes everything,” Harry cut in, moving even closer to her, “Hermione, last night I was going to tell you that my feelings for you have changed, that I’ve finally realised just how important you are to me and that my life would be empty without you in it. You are everything to me – everything.

“What happened between us was amazing – our whole relationship is amazing! You are amazing and it should be me apologising to you for not realising that a lot sooner.”

“What are you saying, Harry?” she asked shyly.

“I’m saying – asking – if you’ll go out with me?” he told her, wiping away the lone tear that was making its way down her face, “will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” she breathed, making him smile and kiss her gently, a wave of relief surging through him.

“I have one more question,” he said, resting his forehead on hers so they were eye to eye.

“What’s that?”

“Will you go to the ball with me?”

It sounded funny to him, saying the same words he had said to Cho a lifetime ago but this time he was saying them to Hermione. This time there was no awkwardness and although there was still a slither of fear she would say no, the moment she smiled at him, he knew that wouldn’t be the case.

“I’m already going to the ball with you,” she grinned cheekily.

“I mean as my date,” Harry emphasised with a smile of his own, “so, will you?”

“Well, since I’m now your girlfriend, I guess I have to,” she joked and he actually laughed.

Harry kissed her again, this time deeper and more passionately. It wasn’t long before hands were everywhere and sitting on two dinning room chairs was getting rather cramped.

“I think,” Harry ventured breathlessly between kisses, “that perhaps we should go somewhere more comfortable.”

“My room?” Hermione replied, “I have to go to work tomorrow…”

“Your room then,” Harry agreed, helping her stand while still kissing her furiously. Suddenly another thought popped into his mind, making him blurt, “protection!”

“Sorry?” Hermione asked, pulling away from him and looking at him quizzically.

“Er…when I asked Ron for advice…”

“You asked Ron for advice about us?” she interrupted with a grin.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, “and he mentioned…um…protection against…well…you getting…er…”

“I take a potion, Harry,” she assured him, “I have been since before the Horcrux hunt.”

“Why?”

“Well, I was going who knows where with two blokes who have trouble understanding the most basic workings of a female,” she explained as she led him out of the dinning room and up the stairs, “I assumed that retaining my monthly cycle during that time would be…uncomfortable for all of us. So I started taking the potion which allows me to control my cycle. Did you actually think I would have sex without making sure I was protected?”

“No, not really. But I must admit, when Ron pointed it out…”

“I’m not too sure how comfortable that you’ve been discussing our sex life with Ron Weasley,” Hermione continued, opening her bedroom door, “where is Ron, any way?”

“At his parents,” Harry told her before capturing her once more in a furious kiss, “I don’t want to talk about Ron any more,” he said huskily.

“Fair enough,” she breathed, slipping off her blouse and for a moment Harry had no coherent thought at all until she grabbed the front of his shirt and pushing him onto her bed, “from now on, it’s all about you, Harry.”

And Harry was quite happy with that decision.

11. The Healing of Hemrione

A/N – right, this is the second to last chapter (and then there will be an epilogue) so we’re getting down to the nitty gritty. Thanks again for the reviews. Sorry this took a bit longer, but I’ve had a cold (yay!). Hope you enjoy this.

The Healing of Hermione

For those outside looking in, nothing seemed to have changed in the relationship between Harry and Hermione.

He was there when Umbridge was sentenced to twenty years at Azkaban; but no-one thought that was strange. Harry often visited Hermione at work, as she did him, and everyone knew the personal relationship Harry had with Dolores Umbridge – so seeing him in the trial room to watch his ex-professor’s face when she was told her fate wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Nor was him sitting next to Hermione that night when many of the old D.A. members got together to celebrate. And he often bought her drinks, so nothing was any different there.

Except they both smiled a whole lot more. And her hand spent a lot of time just resting on his thigh – unnoticed by most and those who did see the subtle gesture just smiled knowingly and said nothing.

Saturday was spent by the trio writing the speech for the Victory Ball the following weekend. Something that Harry had initially been dreading as a bothersome chore turned out to be a day of laughter and fun. As they thought about what they wanted to say, they kept remembering all of their adventures over the years they had spent together. Re-telling of the tales grew more and more outrageous as they all tried to outdo each other but at the end they had a speech that reflected what they wanted to say and fond memories of the hardships they faced getting there.

Hermione had to go shopping on the Sunday while Harry and Ron had organised a friendly game of Quidditch at The Burrow with various Weasley’s and ex-Hogwarts students. Still, no-one asked about any change in the dynamics between Harry and Hermione even though Ron had no doubtingly told his family that the relationship between his two friends had progressed.

The rest of the week was spent getting ready for the trip to Australia with Harry doing most of the organising while Ron and Hermione wound down their respective jobs with little fan fare. Harry was enjoying himself, spending his days doing nothing but visit travel agents and lounge around Grimmauld Place with the evenings spent more in Hermione’s bedroom than his own. By the time the Ball came around, he was relaxed and ready for anything.

Smiling to himself as he continued to pack his bags, he thought of how nervous Hermione was when she left for Hogwarts earlier in the day. She had accepted Ginny’s offer to get ready with her for the Ball , the restrictions at the school relaxed since the Ball was to take place there later that night. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear Ron’s arrival until his friend spoke.

“Er, Harry – can we have a word?”

“Sure,” he frowned, “what’s up?”

“Er,” Ron started, moving aside allowing Harry to see that Neville had been standing behind him, “Nev’s girlfriend saw this in the paper and, well, we think you should see it.”

“I don’t read the paper anymore,” Harry shrugged, “hey Neville.”

“Hey Harry,” Neville nodded in greeting, “um, you probably should read this.”

“Why, what did they write about me this time?” Harry relented as he took the offered copy of the Daily Prophet from Ron.

“It’s not about you,” Ron told him quietly, “it’s about Hermione.”

“Hermione?”

Harry unfolded the paper to see an unflattering picture of Hermione hunched over a book with her hair pulled into an untidy pony-tail while she ate a messy cream bun. The headline screamed

Hermione Granger, the new girlfriend of the Boy Who Conquered? You must be joking!

His frown deepening, Harry sat down on the edge of his bed and began to read, Ron and Neville watching with concern.

Speculation on who the famous Harry Potter is taking to this weekend’s Victory Ball (see page 5 for extensive coverage of who is wearing what) has been hovering over us for months with our secretive hero not uttering a word.

But if rumour is to believed, we don’t have to wonder any longer. It seems the wily Miss Hermione Granger, lifelong friend of Mr Potter (and ex-girlfriend of Mr Ron Weasley, the other member of the famous Trio), has tricked Harry in the worse way possible and will be attending the biggest social event of the year as his partner.

But this reporter, for one, is not fooled. How are we supposed to believe that the most eligible bachelor in wizarding Britain would attend this prestigious event with the well-known bookworm? When looking at the past loves of Mr Potter, it is obvious that there must be something devious taking place – beautiful Cho Chang, stunning Ginny Weasley and now dowdy, ‘nose always stuck in a book’ Hermione Granger.

How did she do it? A love potion? She is known as the smartest witch of our age, able to brew the most difficult potions easily so a love potion would be nothing for the cunning girl.

It can’t be her charm – her tenacious personality in the Wizengamot saw many sent to Azkaban because of her brashness and hard-nose attitude. How could anyone love that?

Therefore we feel it is safe to assume that this rumour is just a joke, and that we all agree that Hermione Granger is not worthy of our hero no matter how smart she is.

Who’s laughing now?

Harry looked up at his friends in horror.

“Do you think Hermione would’ve seen this?” he asked them worriedly.

“Luna doesn’t get the Prophet, never has,” Ron answered with a shrug.

“And I don’t think Ginny gets it any more,” Neville added, “especially after the articles about her and Draco last month.”

“But she’s at Hogwarts, Harry,” Ron continued, “someone’s bound to have showed her.”

“You and Hermione are alright though, aren’t you?” Neville asked, “she won’t believe this, surely?”

“I don’t know,” Harry sighed, “we’ve only been together two weeks and she was really nervous about tonight,” he paused, suddenly angry as he scanned the page once more to see who wrote it, “Rita bloody Skeeter! I’m gonna kill her!”

“You and me both, mate,” Ron growled.

“Well, I better get going,” Neville interrupted, heading for the door, “when Suzie showed me the article I told her I’d only be gone for a bit. Shouldn’t have gone at all, but I thought you guys needed to see it…”

“Yeah, thanks Nev,” Harry frowned, still glaring at the paper, “thanks for the warning.”

“We always knew the press would be crazy,” Ron added, “what with all the rubbish they’ve been printing since this stupid Ball was announced. This will just make things worse.”

“That’s what I thought,” Neville agreed, “but the security at the castle is tight with most of our division there. I would offer to help but…”

“No, but thanks mate,” Harry cut in, standing to give Neville a friendly whack on the shoulder as they made their way out of the room, “you just enjoy the night with Suzie.”

“You and Suz doing well, Neville?” Ron asked as he followed the other two to the front door, “it seems you’ve been dating for ages!”

“Six months,” Neville answered with a smile, “and yeah, things are pretty brilliant. She’s a lovely lady…who will be wondering where I am. See you in a bit then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled, “thanks again Neville.”

“No problem.”

When Harry closed the door, he threw the now scrunched up Daily Prophet against the wall.

“Do people actually believe this rubbish?” he growled, stomping his way back up the stairs.

“Probably,” Ron shrugged, “you should’ve seen what they wrote about Ginny and Malfoy…”

“What?”

“Oh, this whole pile of bollocks that, although I hate Malfoy and think he’s a git, was completely out of order,” Ron told Harry as he followed him back into his room, “and then they had a field day when they found out I was going with Luna…”

“You never told me that,” Harry accused as he turned to his friend, “when did this happen?”

“Back when you were throwing your toys at Smith,” Ron shrugged again, “they said some nasty things about Luna, and me too, I guess, but I was more worried about how Luna would take it. She didn’t care. She never believes anything written in the Prophet anyway and she said she’s been called worse.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Yeah, well, they went absolutely mental when they found out Luna would be sitting with us on the stage…”

“She’s your girlfriend,” Harry argued, “she deserves to be there!”

“But she’s not a member of the Trio,” Ron countered, “look, the press is just a bunch of Wally’s with Rita Skeeter in the lead. We weren’t gonna show this bollocks you but we thought with Hermione still a bit…”

“…fragile,” Harry supplied with a sigh, “this is the last thing she needs.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed thoughtfully before breaking out into a grin and heading for the door, “and I better get packing or she’ll have my guts for garters!”

“You haven’t packed?”

“What’s there to pack?” Ron laughed, “and it takes two seconds to get ready. No worries.”

Harry shook his head in wonderment as he finished packing his own bags before heading for the bathroom to have a shower and shave. The words of the article kept playing over in his mind, the idea that people would actually think Hermione wasn’t good enough for him when he saw it as the other way around.

He also couldn’t believe that his friends had been mocked by the media and kept it from him. It was common knowledge he didn’t look at the papers anymore as the rumours and stories written about him since the war were sometimes so outlandish, they were funny. It annoyed him that the same treatment had also been given to the others.

An hour later he was sitting in a carriage with Ron on the way from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, both nervously quiet as they stared out into the darkening sky. When their carriage pulled up outside the castle Harry had called home for six years, he was nearly shaking.

They stepped out of the carriage to be blinded by flashbulb’s as a rally of camera’s went off. Immediately a group of Auror’s surrounded Harry and Ron, putting a shield up around them and escorting them to the entranceway of the castle. Both boys chattered with their guard, knowing them from work, trying to make the uncomfortableness of their work colleagues now being their body guards lessen.

Inside the castle walls, there were a number of people mulling around outside the large doors into the Great Hall. They had barely entered when there was a shriek and within seconds, Luna had flung herself into Ron’s arms, kissing him madly. Harry and the other Auror’s stood around trying not to watch, some sniggering, as the embrace went on longer than anticipated – the reporter’s camera’s going off continually.

“Er, Ron,” Harry ventured after a little bit, tapping his friend hesitantly on the shoulder, “probably best you give it a rest now.”

Tearing himself from Luna, Ron looked at Harry with glassy, blank eyes, his arm securely around his girlfriend while she continued to gaze at him lovingly.

“Right,” he managed to say, grinning broadly, “sorry about that. Haven’t seen Luna for a bit. Got carried away.”

“Hermione’s not here yet,” Luna added, noticing Harry looking around the hall, “she and Ginny are still getting ready.”

It was then Harry noticed Draco Malfoy standing a little bit to the side, glancing at Harry and Ron uncertainly. It was the first time they had seen each other since the days after the final battle and subsequent trials of the Malfoy family. And, of course, since the youngest Malfoy began dating the youngest Weasley.

Harry and Malfoy locked eyes for a moment, neither saying a word yet an understanding passed between the two enemies. They will tolerate each other for Ginny’s sake. With a brief nod, Harry looked away.

“Oh, here comes Ginny!” Luna squealed and immediately Harry turned his attention to the stairwell where indeed, stood Ginny.

The passing thought that his ex-girlfriend looked quite beautiful went through his mind – she was dressed in a shimmering purple gown with her long, gleaming hair lying flat over one shoulder like a waterfall. She stopped a few steps down when she realised she was alone, a frown briefly replaced her glowing smile as she turned and made her way back up to the landing. Obviously debating with someone out of sight, she seemed unaware that all those in the entranceway were watching the exchange with interest. After a moment or two, the reluctant guest revealed her identity as Hermione stepped into view, her hand clasped tightly by Ginny.

Harry was stunned.

She had blue robes on, the colour similar to what she wore at the Yule Ball all those years ago, and they seemed to float around her legs as she made her way down the stairs. Her hair was pulled back off her face with small ringlets escaping here and there, her ears glistening with some white, sparkling gem. She glanced at him uncertainly, her nervousness stamped over her face but all Harry could do was stare.

She was amazing.

After what seemed like a lifetime, she was before him, Ginny giving him Hermione’s hand to hold.

“Here you go,” the redhead beamed, “better dash. Don’t forget us little people in your speech, Harry.” With a small peck on the cheek, Ginny darted away to the waiting Malfoy – both being quickly ushered into the Hall.

“You look wicked, Hermione,” Ron gushed as he hugged her, briefly drawing her gaze from Harry.

“Thanks Ron,” she whispered, then went back to looking at Harry, “do…do I look okay?” she asked shyly.

“Yes,” Harry managed to blurt, taking her trembling hands in his before adding more gently, “you look incredible.”

“They think I’m a joke…”

“Don’t you ever believe that you’re a joke, or not worthy or any of that rubbish,” Harry tried to reassure her, “because you are worth everything to me.”

Without really thinking, he ran a finger down the side of her face, barely touching her but wanting to know if she felt as soft as she looked. At that moment the entranceway was filled with brilliant light as seemingly hundreds of camera’s went off, finally breaking Harry out of his spell and realising that they were being watched by the wizarding world’s media.

“Bloody hell,” Ron cursed, shielding his eyes from the glare.

“Oh for goodness sake, put those things away, this is not some two-bob side show!” Professor McGonagall snapped to the photographers as she strode over to the small group from the Hall, “and aren’t you supposed to be protecting our guests from this kind of carry on?” she fired at the Auror’s, spurring them into action and moving the photographers away, leaving only a couple of guards with the party of honour.

Professor McGonagall stopped in front of them, all trace of her sternness disappearing as she looked at them all fondly, “my, don’t you all look a treat,” she beamed, “it seems like only yesterday that you three stood before me, wee mites with mischief on your minds – well, you two at least,” she looked at Ron and Harry, who smiled sheepishly back, “and now look at you, just wonderful, wonderful young people! Miss Granger...”

Harry relinquished Hermione’s hands to the headmistress, who was looking at her ex-pupil with tears in her eyes.

“My dear,” the professor breathed, “I know I shouldn’t have favourites but I’m afraid I have never been prouder of any of my students as I am of you today”

“Thank you, professor,” Hermione smiled warmly, “thank you for all your help this past year – and before that too. You truly are an inspiration.”

“As are you, child,” McGonagall replied fondly, drawing Hermione into a hug. Harry and Ron exchanged looks as they waited for their usually stern professor to dab her eyes with her hanky before she got herself together, turned to them and stated, “right, let’s get you lot inside before we have a small riot on our hands.”

Hermione smiled and once more took Harry’s hand, intertwining her fingers with his as they waited for the professor to lead them into the Great Hall; Harry and Hermione in front, with Ron and Luna a few steps behind.

The roar of applause hit them as the doors opened to revel hundreds of waiting guests standing and clapping as the four made their way down the aisle in the middle of the Hall to the waiting stage at the end.

Harry was embarrassed but also proud – part of him knew he deserved this. As he stood on the stage with Hermione on one side of him and Ron on the other, he couldn’t help but smile. The three of the received their awards with grace and as Hermione went to the podium to give their speech, they sat down to listen.

He found himself watching her carefully, noting her profile as she said the words that the three of them put together. She looked so beautiful. It wasn’t long before she finished, turning to him to indicate that it was now his turn. With a bit of a jolt, he stood, wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers then made his way to the podium.

“Thank you, Hermione,” he said like they had practiced the previous Saturday. No-one had heard his part of the speech, he had wanted it to be a secret, so with a deep breath he began.

“I have little to add to what has already been said,” he began, willing his voice not to crack, “but I did want to thank two more people who were missed. They are, of course, my two best friends – Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

“Without Ron and Hermione, I would’ve died in my first year at Hogwarts. Together, they have looked out for me and helped me out more than most people realise and I owe them a debt that I don’t think I can ever repay.

“Ron introduced me to the ways of the wizarding world and although I don’t think he realises it, I am so jealous of what he has – a home and a family that loves him. His friendship and loyalty has been tested over the years, but he’s always pulled through in the end. Always good for a laugh and an appetite that is like nothing I’ve ever known, I am proud to call him my best friend.

“And then there’s Hermione. Scarily smart, she always seemed to know the way to get us out of whatever mess we had gotten ourselves into. Over the years, she alone has always been there for me, looking out for me and making sure I was okay. Her loyalty and friendship has been the one steadying cornerstone in the madness that has been my life and now I’ve finally realised that she means more to me than just a friend and I’m proud to call Hermione my girlfriend.

“So thank you again for these awards and tonight I ask you to remember those that gave the ultimate sacrifice so we could live in peace and also remember that I didn’t do this on my own.

“Thank you.”

The room erupted once more into applause led by the table full of Order members and the Weasley’s. Harry turned to sit down only to be engulfed by Hermione with Ron standing behind her, beaming and clapping wildly.

“Thanks mate,” Ron said to him and Harry just smiled, holding onto Hermione tightly.

The rest of the night was a lot more fun than expected with Harry even dancing once or twice with Hermione. By the time the official party had ended, those no longer at Hogwarts were ready to keep going so moved the festivities to Grimmauld Place. Therefore it was an exhausted but happy trio who made their way to Heathrow to catch their plane to Australia.

They had decided to travel as Muggles mainly because Hermione’s parents didn’t know about the wizarding world plus it meant it was an adventure for both Harry and Ron. The excitement of a plane and the airport kept them awake for a couple of hours but it wasn’t long before the three of them were fast asleep as they flew out of England, Hermione’s head resting on Harry’s shoulder.

Many, many hours and a few stopovers later, they touched down in Melbourne, wide awake and more than a bit on edge. They walked through the arrival gates and scanned the crowd for Hermione’s parents. Hermione was holding Harry’s hand so tight, he feared for his circulation but he stayed silent.

Ron spotted the Granger’s first and with a reassuring smile to Hermione, they made their way over to the waiting couple. Hermione introduced Harry and Ron and they easily fell into conversation with her parents as they explained that because the visit was so unexpected, they could only get a few days off work and how the two boys would have to sleep in the lounge as they only had one spare room.

Harry tried to concentrate on Hermione and why they were here but he couldn’t help the excitement of being in a foreign country on the other side of the world. Hermione had been right, everything just seemed brighter even though it was overcast with rain in the air. Ron was the same, constantly looking out of the window of the car and pointing out new oddities, constantly being poked in the ribs for saying something that any Muggle should know, even a foreign one – but he didn’t care.

It wasn’t until they reached the house of Hermione’s parents, their dog bounding up to meet them, that the reality of the situation set in. They had decided to reverse the spell as soon as they could to give the Granger’s more time to think about things and make a decision. That moment was now just ahead.

It was mid morning when they deposited their bags, was introduced to Sandy, the dog, got a tour of the house and all sat down for a cup of tea and a spot of lunch. The Granger’s were telling them of the wonderful sights of Melbourne when the three teenagers exchanged a look and very discretely, Harry stunned Philip and Helen Granger.

“Are you ready?” he asked Hermione, who just nodded, looking absolutely terrified. She then took a deep, calming breath and reversed the memory spell while Harry released the stun.

“Hermione!” Mrs Granger shrieked the moment she was free, grabbing her daughter into a hug, Mr Granger joining her and hugging them both.

“Pumpkin!” Mr Granger cried, “it’s so good to see you!”

“Oh, let me look at you,” his wife continued, tears in her eyes as she held Hermione out at arms length to look over her, “well, you seem a lot better than when we saw you last – you were much too skinny and pale then! My now, how long ago was that?”

“A year ago, mummy,” Hermione answered quietly, looking down at the floor.

“A year ago?” Mrs Granger repeated, immediately concerned, “is everything alright?”

It was then they noticed Harry and Ron standing off to one side, watching silently.

“These strapping young men can’t be Harry and Ron,” Mr Granger joked, his arm still securely around his daughter’s shoulders, a frown contradicting the lightness of his words.

“What is it?” Mrs Granger asked urgently, “what’s wrong? Why are you both here?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Harry began but Hermione cut in before he could continue.

“I think you two should sit down,” she said quietly but firmly, “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, sweetie?” Mr Granger asked, his frown deepening when she extracted herself from their embrace so she could sit opposite them as they sat together on the couch. Ron came and sat on the chair beside her, leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs so he was close to her but not touching. Harry stood behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder, letting her know he was there. The Granger’s watched with concerned interest until Mrs Granger let out a strangled gasp and grabbed her husband’s hand.

“Oh my, you’re not pregnant are you?” she cried, her free hand fluttering around her face, “the last time we saw you, you were dating Ron, I believe…”

“No!” Hermione exclaimed quickly, “no, I’m not pregnant! And…and I’m with Harry now…”

“Harry?” Mr Granger frowned even more, glancing at his wife confusedly.

“Yes,” Hermione sighed deeply, “but that’s not my news. I…I did something that I…I don’t know how to…I’m so sorry!”

“What’s going on Hermione?” Mr Granger asked sternly, “you’re beginning to really worry us!”

Hermione quickly looked up at Harry for some reassurance, which he gave with a small smile and nod. She then glanced at Ron, who did the same. Taking another deep breath, she looked back at her parents.

“Last year, I came to bring you back home,” she told them quietly, “we had won the war and it was safe for you to return. But I got here and you were both so happy what with your jobs and getting Sandy, and…well, I didn’t think you’d want to give that all up. So…so I returned you back to the Wilkins.”

“You left us here?” Mrs Granger breathed.

“Yes,” Hermione whispered, her tears starting to fall.

“But why?” Mrs Granger continued, confused, “I don’t understand. We could’ve come home, with you, but you left us here?”

“Yes,” Hermione repeated.

“Why sweetie?” Mr Granger asked gently.

“Because I thought that you were so happy here,” Hermione sobbed, “I thought that I had already put you both through so much that I couldn’t ask you to give that all up again for me. It wasn’t fair to you! I thought…I thought I needed to let you go…”

“Oh Hermione,” Mrs Granger cried, leaving the couch and coming to where Hermione was sitting and taking her in her arms, “how can you ever think we would choose a life without you in it? You are our daughter, our baby girl – we love you so very much!”

“You’d choose me?”

“Of course we would, pumpkin,” Mr Granger joined them, his tears running unchecked down his face, “you are everything to us! We gave up our lives to come here for you and we’d do it all again in a heartbeat! You are our everything!”

“I’m so sorry!” Hermione said, her voice muffled from her mothers’ shoulder, “I thought I was doing the right thing! I thought it was all for the best!”

Harry stepped back and let the family come together while Ron stood and went to Harry, looking at him as if to ask whether they should go and leave the Granger’s alone. Harry nodded slightly and together they made their way to the door.

“Boys,” Mr Granger called out, stopping them as he made his way to where they were standing, “are you planning…were you thinking of going out?”

“Er, yeah,” Harry answered, glancing at Ron, “you probably need some time alone…”

“Yes, I think we do,” Mr Granger smiled sadly, “sometimes our little girl can be a bit too noble for her own good.”

“She’s not alone with that,” Ron muttered, provoking a glare from Harry.

“The beach is ten minutes walk if you turn right at the end of this road,” Mr Granger continued, “there’s lots of shops and pubs and things there that will keep you occupied. Here, take my house key so you can get back in if we decide to go out or something, Sandy will be kept out the back so she won’t annoy you. Sorry to do this to you both, I know you’ve just arrived and…”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr Granger,” Harry interrupted, “we’d planned for this so it’s fine. You just work things out with Hermione.”

It was an exhausted Harry and Ron that returned to the house just before midnight. They had occupied themselves quite easily for the day, taking in the sights of the town while the sun was still up and then watching various sports in the pub they found in the evening. They got caught up with a bunch of locals who felt it their duty to explain the game of Aussie Rules to the two foreigners, much to the hilarity of all involved.

They crept into the dark and quiet house, trying not to wake the obviously sleeping occupants. After turning on a light, Ron quickly got his toiletries together and made his way upstairs to the bathroom while Harry sat on his made-up bed on the couch (Ron got the cot bed because, being taller, the couch would’ve been too uncomfortable) and waited, his toothbrush and paste clasped in his hand.

“You’re back.”

Harry’s head whipped around at the sound of Hermione’s voice to see her standing on the stair, wrapped up warmly in a large dressing gown.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled, “had to watch the end of the game. I think Ron has a new appreciation for Muggle sports.”

“You both left rather quickly,” she continued, making her way down the stairs and to the couch.

“We thought it best to give you some space,” Harry told her, intertwining his fingers with hers, “just like we discussed. How did it all go?”

“Brilliant, Harry,” she gushed, “they want to come back to England! I told them what I’d done, so they’ll come back as the Wilkins and live up north somewhere – we were thinking York. We don’t know anyone up there and they’ve always wanted to visit,” she paused and looked at him then, her eyes glistening with tears, “you were right, they chose me.”

“Of course they chose you, Hermione – you’re their daughter,” Harry said gently, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

“Thank you for making me do this,” she continued softly.

“I’m glad it’s all worked out,” he smiled, “and it’s brilliant to see the light return to your eyes. It’s like you’ve come alive again.”

“That’s because I feel alive,” she grinned, “oh Harry, they don’t hate me! And they’re coming home!”

He hugged her then, happy with the knowledge that the first steps had begun for Hermione and now it would only be a matter of time before she became the person that had been his strength for so long. When they kissed, he briefly forgot they on were on the couch in the living room of Hermione’s parents house and let the kiss intensify.

“Oi,” Ron warned as he walked onto the scene, Harry and Hermione hurriedly breaking apart, “none of that carry-on, you two. It’s enough to make a man sick!”

“Oh honestly, Ronald,” Hermione admonished with a smile, “it’s not like we haven’t had to watch you snog Luna to an inch of her life!” she paused as she saw Harry and Ron exchange looks, “what?” she asked, confused.

“That was your first ‘honestly Ronald’ for over a year,” Ron replied with a grin, “welcome back.”

“No it wasn’t,” she said, frowning with thought, “was it?” She looked to Harry for confirmation.

“I’m afraid it was,” Harry laughed, “and I must say, I’ve missed them.”

“Well, you’re the boyfriend now,” Ron carried on as he got into bed, “it will be more ‘honestly Harry’ from now on.”

“I can live with that,” Harry smiled as he got up for his turn in the bathroom, “as long as I have Hermione back.” And with a parting kiss on the nose of his girlfriend, Harry made his way up the stairs, grinning all the way.

12. The Healing of Harry

A/N – well, this is the last ‘chapter’ of the story with an epilogue still to come (it’s already written so will be out by the end of the week, probably). This has been fun. I have a one shot in my head, which I’ll do next and then another ‘canon’ short fic so you’ll be hearing a bit more of me yet! Thank you for all your reviews, they’ve been lovely and so very positive. They are most appreciated.

So, enjoy this and look out for the epilogue!

Chapter 12 – The Healing of Harry

Six weeks flew by and it didn’t seem long before it was time to return home. Lying on the couch for the last time, Harry stared up to the ceiling in the darkness, thinking about all that had happened since their arrival in Australia.

The first week had been full of plan making as the Granger’s ended their life in Melbourne to start another in York. They (as the Wilkins) had immediately gone to their employers and resigned from their respective jobs, saying they had to return to England due to a family emergency. No-one really questioned their decisions with Mrs Granger’s boss even letting her finish up earlier than the required four weeks.

The house was put on the market with it selling within two weeks while the furniture in it was slowly sold off, bit by bit. The main concern was the welfare of Sandy – but even there, fate stepped in and helped out. A work colleague of Mr Granger’s had been looking for a dog for her daughter and when she heard that Mr Granger was returning to England, asked about Sandy. A decision was made and Sandy was given a wonderful new home with a family who loved her dearly.

While the life in Australia was wound down, a new life in England was beginning. Harry and Ron spent a lot of time in the Australasian Ministry of Magic, sorting out how they were going to bring the Granger’s back as the Wilkins. They were also finding out about possible places to live and businesses to buy (it had been decided that the ‘Wilkins’ were giving up being dentists and instead planned to buy a café – something Mr Granger had always wanted to do).

After two and a half weeks of sorting everything out, the trio went sight seeing, making their way up the east coast of Australia until they got to the Great Barrier Reef before travelling inland to Ayres Rock then back to Melbourne.

They had a blast.

Harry and Ron had been like excited school children, finding enjoyment in nearly every little thing, sometimes driving poor Hermione around the bend – though she took it all in her stride, relaxed and happy after being reunited with her parents.

The sleeping arrangements helped with that as well, as Harry and Hermione were able to share a room with Ron quite content to have a room to himself (where he spent many a night just watching the television for hours). The more time the young couple spent together, the more Harry realised how much she meant to him.

By the time they returned to Melbourne, there was only a week to go. The house was pretty much packed up with only the essentials left, and both Mr and Mrs Granger were no longer employed. They spent their week looking around Melbourne and finalising everything off.

This was why it was a tired but contented Harry lying on the sofa bed for the last time. Things had gone so well, it was like it was meant to happen. But the best thing was how happy Hermione was and how much like her old self she had become. It made it all worthwhile.

It also helped that Harry got on brilliantly with her parents, especially her father who shared the same sort of dry humour as himself. Over the time they had spent together, Harry felt that he had made a good impression and even handled the ‘what are your intentions with my daughter’ talk to the satisfaction of the cautious father.

But it was time to go home and face reality once more. Being unemployed, he was going to help the Grangers slash Wilkins settle into York and then he will try to find a job, something he wasn’t really looking forward to.

As he drifted off to sleep, he thought of what was waiting for him back in England and how much he had enjoyed being a tourist. The idea that he’d like to travel more passed through his mind, but only if Hermione could come with him. Still smiling, he fell asleep.

He could hear the snake moving around the rubble at his feet, but Harry ignored Nagini and instead looked frantically around for Hermione and Ron. The blast that had partially collapsed the wall was still echoing in his ears, only to be replaced by a bone-chilling wail.

Turning, he made his way frantically to the sound, and saw a body half hidden by brick and mortar, although the red hair seemed to scream at him through the dust. Hermione was sobbing over the body and something within Harry died.

Ron’s blank eyes looked up at him, the life snubbed out by the spell’s blast.

“You killed him!” Hermione screamed.

“No, it wasn’t me…”

“You took him away from me!” she continued to yell, her face distorted in anger, “your stupidity killed Ron!”

“No,” Harry strangled out.

“I hate you! Because of you I’ve lost everything! Because of you Ron is dead!”

“No,” he repeated, stunned by her words, “it isn’t true – Fred was killed. Fred died…”

“You killed me too, Harry.”

The new voice came from behind him, making Harry spin around to see a broken Fred walking towards him, painful and slow.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he tried to argue but was ignored as Fred was soon joined by Remus and Tonks.

“Yes, it was Harry,” Remus told him, “because of you our son will grow up an orphan.”

“Because of you, my mother lost her husband and her only daughter,” Tonks added.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“You deserve to suffer,” Fred sneered.

“You need to lose as much as we have,” Remus continued with venom.

“No, please,” Harry begged, stumbling backwards as they came towards him.

“How quaint,” a sickening, familiar voice cut in and once again, Harry swung around to see who was speaking only to face the one person he wanted to be dead – Voldemort, “little Potter still having dreams.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Ah, but I can’t,” Voldemort snickered, “I’ve come take all that you love, finish what I started. Make you suffer.”

“You can’t make me suffer anymore,” Harry said strongly, though he felt anything but strong, “you’re dead. I killed you!”

“Didn’t I kill you?” Voldemort asked as the castle morphed into the forest, trees replacing walls. All around him were figures watching but unlike the previous Death Eaters, these were people he knew – Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, even Peter Pettigrew and Snape, stood and watched.

“Please…” he moaned.

“All these people,” Voldemort continued, circling Harry menacingly, “you killed. All these people died for you. And they’ll keep dying – you deserve no-one, Harry Potter. You deserve a life of emptiness and pain.”

“That’s not true!”

“How can you possibly think that you can be loved?” Voldemort asked, a foul grin crossing his face, “how can you possibly think that…this…could love you!”

Tied to the trees, the way Hagrid had been a lifetime ago, was Hermione, absolutely terrified.

“Hermione,” he breathed, making his way to her, only to be blocked by Sirius.

“Help me, Harry,” she cried before her body spasmed as if under the Cruciatus curse.

“Leave her alone!” Harry screamed.

“You’ll hurt her, just like you’ve hurt everyone else,” Voldemort continued to taunt, “why don’t you just let her go?”

“No, I can’t leave her.”

“Well then, watch her suffer!”

Hermione cried out in pain forcing a slither of fear through his heart.

“No!” he cried, “Hermione! Stop this!”

He tried desperately to push Sirius out of the way but his godfather was steadfast, the vision of Hermione’s tortured form still untouchable before him.

“You killed them all, Harry Potter,” Voldemort said from behind him, “and now you will kill her too…”

“NO!”

Harry’s eyes slammed open as he bolted upright, scared and confused. He gulped in air, aware of his t-shirt sticking to his body from the sheen of sweat that covered him. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what he had seen – the memory making him look frantically around him for some sort of semblance.

Everything was blurry, his glasses forgotten, but he could tell there were people with him. One of them handed him his glasses and soon the room came into view only to see Hermione kneeling at his side, pale and scared. With a flood of relief, he gently grabbed her face, running his hands over it to make sure she was real and whole.

“Are you alright?” he asked her urgently, “are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Harry,” she whispered, tears already forming in her eyes.

A new thought assaulted him and with the same sense of urgency, he looked around for the other familiar face.

“Ron!” he cried, slumping slightly with relief when he saw his friend, “I dreamt…I thought you were dead!”

“I’m okay,” Ron told him quietly, watching him with wide eyes, “mate, that was some nightmare! You scared the shit out of me! Oops, sorry Mrs Granger.”

“Actually, I agree with you, Ron,” Mrs Granger said and with a wave of embarrassment Harry saw that both Mr and Mrs Granger were looking at him from the foot of the couch, “Harry, that was one hell of a dream.”

“Yeah, sorry for waking you,” Harry mumbled, drawing a hand over his face wearily, “I haven’t had one that bad for quite a while.”

“You’ve had dreams like this before?” Mr Granger asked.

“Yes,” Harry sighed, “but not for a long while. Not since…” he glanced at Hermione and blushed slightly – he was going to say not since he started sleeping with her, but thought her parents might not be comfortable with that, “not for a while.”

“Well, I for one won’t be getting back to sleep for a bit,” Mrs Granger put in quickly, “would anyone else like a nice cup of tea?”

A chorus of yes’s went around the room giving Mrs Granger an excuse to leave the lounge and go to the kitchen. Harry sat upright, swinging his legs off the couch allowing Hermione to sit next to him, taking his clammy hands in hers.

“You need to talk about this,” she said quietly, “you can’t just ignore it.”

“I can’t, Hermione,” he admitted, closing his eyes only to see the tortured image of her before his lids, “you don’t need…”

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t need, Harry Potter,” she interrupted him smartly, “you were screaming out my name! And Ron’s! It was horrible and I am not going to let you live through that all again!”

“It may be easier to talk about this with us here, Harry,” Mr Granger put in, sitting down in one of the chairs, “we don’t know what happened, a fresh set of eyes, so to speak…”

“It’s my problem – you don’t need to know…”

“You’ve made Hermione face up to her demons,” Ron cut in sharply, “don’t you think it’s time for you to do the same?”

Harry glared at Ron, who just glared back. When Harry looked at Hermione, she too looked at him stubbornly. Mrs Granger came back with the tea, sitting next to her husband on the other chair – all watching Harry carefully. Realising he wasn’t going to get anywhere, he sagged into the couch and frowned at them all.

“Fine,” he grumped, “you wanna hear about my dream, I’ll tell you! Instead of Fred dying amongst the rubble of Hogwarts, it’s you Ron, and Hermione is hating me and blaming me for your death. Then Fred, Remus and Tonks have a go at me, saying it was all my fault, that Teddy now being an orphan is my fault, that they died for me!

“Then it’s Voldemort telling me I don’t deserve to be happy, or have someone to love me so he takes away Hermione and tortures her in front of me, saying its my fault she’s hurting because it’s always my fault that people I love are either killed or hurt!

“It happens where he killed me, and it has everyone who died watching like Sirius, like Dumbledore, like mum and dad! Everyone!

“So there you go, my pathetic nightmare, and I know why I’m having them – guilt and all that rubbish. They aren’t going away so I’ll just learn to live with them…”

“You haven’t had the dreams since you’ve been here…” Mrs Granger ventured softly.

“I’ve been too busy thinking of other things,” Harry shrugged, “too excited about being away I suppose.”

“Then why tonight?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied in a mutter, “look, I’m sorry for waking you all. Why don’t we just forget it and…”

“You were killed?” Mr Granger questioned with a frown, everyone looking at him, “I don’t understand – how can you have been killed yet you’re here, now.”

“Hermione learnt all about being noble from Harry, Mr Granger,” Ron tried to joke, but no-one smiled.

“Being noble saved Harry’s life?” Mr Granger asked.

“Do you remember me telling about the search for the Horcruxes?” Hermione spoke up, addressing her parents, “that Voldemort had separated his soul into bits and we had to find them all before we could go after Voldemort himself?” they nodded so she continued, “well, Harry found out that he was a Horcrux so made the decision to go off and get himself killed to protect us all…”

“…and just like so many times before, what we see as stupidity ends up being brave and heroic,” Ron adds, “because his selfishness meant that Voldemort’s killing curse backfired, once again, and Harry doesn’t die…”

“I am sitting right here you know,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“…instead he pretends he’s dead,” Hermione continues, ignoring Harry completely, “only to come alive and kill Voldemort…”

“…saving us all,” Ron finished with a nod.

“Oh my,” Mrs Granger cried.

“You survived this…killing curse a second time?” Mr Granger tried to confirm.

“Yeah,” Harry answered sourly, “I’m a real freak of nature.”

“Of course, the wizarding world sees Harry as their saviour,” Ron said, “the defeater of evil, their hero…”

“I’m not a hero,” Harry growled.

“You sound like a hero,” Mrs Granger added softly, “in fact, you were born a hero…”

“I am not a hero!” Harry shouted, standing up and pacing angrily in front of the television, “why does everyone think that? My mother died protecting me! Sirius died trying to save me because I was so stupid and arrogant to think I could actually save him – when he wasn’t even there! Dumbledore died protecting me, Hermione was tortured because of me…”

“Hermione was tortured?” Mrs Granger interrupted, concerned.

“Yes!” Harry yelled before anyone else could answer, “yes, she was because I was once again stupid! Can’t you all see, I’m not a hero! I’m an idiot! I’ve had people constantly help me through everything, constantly telling me what to do! And I can’t even get dying right! Giving my self up solved everything – if I had done it sooner, Fred and Remus and Tonks…they’d still be alive! But no, I had to bumble my way around, and they paid for my ignorance with their lives!

“Don’t you get it? It should be me dead, not them! It should be me! It was my destiny! It should’ve been me!”

“You think you should’ve died?” Hermione asked quietly.

“Yes!” he answered immediately, then, “no! I don’t know!” He ran a hand through his hair, turning his back on them, “I don’t know. It’s just, everyone keeps telling me I’m this amazing, powerful wizard! That I can take over from Dumbledore, when I can’t! I didn’t ask for all of this! I didn’t ask to be the one to kill Voldemort! All I ever wanted was to be normal, to have someone care about me…”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione breathed as he dropped his head wearily.

“When I was young, locked in the cupboard under the stairs because of something I had done wrong,” Harry said emotionlessly, “sometimes hungry because my crime meant I wouldn’t get fed, I dreamed that there was something better out there for me. That life had to get better because it couldn’t get any worse.

“Then Hagrid came and took me away from it all, came and saved me and I thought this was it, my escape from the bollocks that was my life, and be a normal…wizard.

“But of course, nothing in my life goes smoothly and I learn my parents were murdered and that Voldemort is after me and blah, blah, blah.

“All I wanted was to be normal and I will never have that. I will never be able to walk down the street without having the fear that someone wants me dead because of who I am and what I’ve done. And everyone who gets close to me, they have the same dangers.

“I didn’t ask for this. I never wanted fame or glory or heaps of money. All I wanted was to have a family of my own, to be loved. To be normal.”

“You are loved, Harry,” Hermione told him gently, standing behind him but not touching, “you’re loved more than you know.”

“But I can’t love back,” he whispered, “I don’t know how.”

“Yes you do.”

He turned to look at her then, his eyes burning as his emotions finally broke through the wall he had built around himself.

“It’s not fair,” he said, barely audible.

“I know,” she said back, reaching out and catching the first tear that rolled down his cheek.

“I didn’t ask for all of this.”

“I know,” she replied tenderly, “but this is your life, Harry. You can’t change who you are, who you’ve become, because everything you’ve gone through has shaped you. Just like what I’ve been through, the good and the bad, has shaped me, made me stronger. We just…you have to be able to accept the past so you can carry on with the future. You need to let it go.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not fair,” she agreed, “you’re right. What has happened to you has not been fair at all. Which is why you need to let us help you, why you need to let us in.”

“I don’t know how…”

“This is a good start,” she smiled sadly.

“Will…will you help me?” he asked.

“Of course,” she told him, wiping away more of his tears, “you know, I love you so very much…”

“I don’t deserve your love,” he cut in, turning his back on her once more, “you deserve someone better…”

“You can’t tell me what I deserve and who I can love,” she replied curtly, “don’t turn your back on me, Harry Potter!”

“I can’t…” he started but suddenly the wall he had so carefully built around him, keeping his emotions in check as he lived the life that others thought he should, crumbled. All his loneliness from his childhood, the despair of his parents murder, his fears, his sadness – everything, was released. His first sob shook his body to the core, his legs buckling with its intensity. The second sob saw him fall to his knees as he hugged himself in a weak attempt to get himself under control. When Hermione’s arms snaked around him and she pressed herself into his back, he knew there was no return.

He cried for all the horrors in his life, his sobs wracking his body. He swivelled around so his face was hidden in the crook of Hermione’s shoulder, crushing her to him. After a moment or two, he felt another set of arms wrap around him and knew that Ron was there, by his side once more.

After the longest time, he had run out of tears. He pulled himself away from his friends and tried to wipe his face clean with his sleeve, embarrassed from his outburst.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, staring down at the floor.

“You don’t need to apologise for crying, Harry,” Hermione said softly.

“Yeah,” Ron added, “even I’ve cried once or twice.”

“Really?”

“Let’s see,” Ron thought out loud, sitting back away from Harry and Hermione, “my brother was killed in front of me, I saw my best friend’s body paraded around before me like some sort of prize. The girl I fancied was tortured and I couldn’t do anything about it then I find out the girl I love had been…well, let’s just say she wasn’t treated that great while she was held captive. So, yeah, Harry I’ve had a bit of a cry now and then.”

“I didn’t think I was allowed to cry,” Harry admitted sheepishly.

“It’s a man thing,” Mr Granger put in, reminding Harry that Hermione’s parents were still there, making him feel even more embarrassed, “for some bizarre reason, us blokes don’t think we’re allowed to cry. But honestly Harry, with all that you’ve been through, it’s amazing that you’re not a blubbering wreck!”

“You three have been through so much,” Mrs Granger frowned, “I can barely imagine what it has been like for you.”

“It’s had its good moments,” Hermione said, her eyes never leaving Harry and he could see her need to help him shinning in their concerned depths.

“Yeah, it has,” Ron agreed then stood, smiling down at them, “I don’t know about you lot, but I need to get my beauty sleep…”

“Oh,” Hermione blurted, glancing between Ron and Harry, “well, I guess…”

“How about I sleep in your room?” Ron suggested quickly, “let you and Harry chat for a bit longer. Will that be alright, Mr and Mrs Granger?”

“Fine with me,” Mrs Granger smiled, also standing, “we have a big day tomorrow, best I get some sleep too.”

“Righto,” Mr Granger agreed, “I guess I can trust you with my little girl, Harry.”

Harry stood, bringing Hermione up with him, looking at the others with a coy smile.

“This has all been a bit embarrassing,” he told them, “but I guess necessary. Thank you for not thinking I’m some freak show.”

“I could never think that of you, Harry,” Mrs Granger replied, “Hermione loves you and I trust her judgement. Plus, from what I’ve seen you are a lovely young man. I know you don’t think yourself as a hero, but you brought my daughter back – that makes you a hero to me.” With that, she went over and pulled Harry into a hug, whispering ‘thank you’ in his ear.

“I agree with Helen,” Mr Granger added as his wife pulled away from Harry, “you seem like a good bloke. My advice to you, man to man, is trust the women in your life – they may seem a little strange at times, what with talk about showing your feelings and not letting thing bottle up but they’re usually right in the end. However Hermione is my pride and joy and if you hurt her…”

“I won’t, Mr Granger,” Harry assured quickly, “I promise.”

“Good,” Mr Granger smiled, “and I think we’ll catch up a bit more in the following weeks. You’re a good man, Harry.”

“Thanks.”

The Granger’s made there way upstairs, leaving Ron standing there with Harry and Hermione.

“You should’ve said something,” Ron said after a moment.

“You were all going through your own stuff…”

“So?” Ron interrupted, “Harry, you’ve been through so much more and we’re your friends. We’re here to help.”

“You didn’t tell me about your stuff.”

“Because I had Luna and my family, I guess,” Ron sighed, “you deserve a life, mate. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”

“Thanks Ron,” Harry smiled back, “I think now I actually believe that.”

“Good,” Ron slapped Harry good-heartily on the back, “now, don’t get up to mischief, you two. Mum and dad are just upstairs.”

Hermione stayed silent as they watched Ron disappear up the stairs and all of a sudden Harry was embarrassed all over again. He stood awkwardly by her, wondering what he should do when she spoke, ever so quietly.

“The weeks after we first got together,” she said, “I have never felt so special, so cared for, so loved in all my life. And then coming here,” she turned to him then, smiling shyly, “your support, your help, the way you keep putting me and what I wanted first – Harry, I feel your love for me with every breath that I take. You know how to love, you just don’t recognise it.”

“I would do anything for you,” he whispered.

“And I would do anything for you,” she whispered back, “I love you, and I don’t need you to tell me to know that you love me too…”

“You deserve to hear those words…”

“And I will, in time. Everything good happens in time. You and me, we’re forever and I can wait. We both…we need to heal, to work through what has happened so we can have a future. Together.”

“Together. I like the sound of that,” he paused then gave her a crooked grin, “do you think less of me after my breakdown?”

“I’ve seen you cry before, Harry.”

“When?”

“When we saw your parent’s graves for the first time.”

Harry nodded in remembrance, realising that Hermione had been there for pretty much every major emotional point in his life.

She has always been there.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the couch, “let’s talk.”

“I hope that’s not an euphemism for a bit of a snog, Harry Potter, because Ron is right – my parents are just upstairs.”

“Considering I don’t know what that big long word means, I can assure you that I mean just a talk,” Harry grinned, “anything more will have to wait until we get home.”

“Home,” she grinned back, “I like that.”

13. Epilogue

A/N – so here is my epilogue and the end of this particular story. Thanks for those who came along for the ride – love getting the reviews and so many lovely comments. You guys rock. And its great to know that there are still a dedicated bunch of Harmonians out there, even still. May it long continue. So, until next time – enjoy.

Epilogue – 20 Years Later

September first seemed to come around quicker this year and it was with more than a bit of sadness that Harry held tightly onto his daughter’s hand as they walked through the border between the Muggle and magical worlds.

His baby was going to Hogwarts.

“I can do this on my own, dad,” Rose told her father as she released his hand and started to push her trolley out of Harry’s grip.

“I know, Rosie,” Harry told her solemnly, “but you need to let me do this, let me pretend that you still need my help. That you’re still my little girl…”

“I will always be your little girl, daddy.”

Harry looked down at his youngest child, a miniature version of her mother staring back at him. He gave her a grin and affectionately ruffled the already ruffled hair.

“Thank you sweetie.”

“Andrew James Potter, this is your last warning!”

Harry looked up in time to see his two sons and their mother heading towards him, his older boy still teasing his younger brother. Hermione was not amused.

“Andrew,” he admonished as they came closer, “leave Hamish alone.”

“But…”

“Enough is enough,” Harry continued, “leave him alone.”

“Well, I still say he and Rachel are in love,” Hamish sung out before darting away to join his friends.

“I wish he’d just shut up,” Hamish grumped, “Rachel is just a friend.”

“I know mate,” Harry smiled, “your brother just likes to tease.”

“Oh, there’s Uncle Ron!” Rose shouted and sure enough, the red hair of Ron could be seen through the crowd.

“Hey Harry,” Ron greeted warmly, “did you find a park? I did – right outside. Luna said we should just catch a bus but I really wanted to test out my new licence.”

“He drove very well,” Luna added, her hand resting on the head of her daughter, who quickly went to Hamish.

“Have you seen Rachel yet?” Star asked enthusiastically.

“No, have you?” Hamish asked back.

“Nope, we just got here. Come on, let’s go and find her!”

“Don’t forget to take you sister with you,” Hermione reminded Hamish just as he went to rush off with Star. Hamish just nodded and gestured to Rose to join them, the three running off into the crowd.

“I still can’t believe you called your daughter Star,” Harry chuckled as he put his arm across Hermione’s shoulders.

“Yeah, well I can’t believe you called your son Hamish,” Ron shot back with a smile.

“It was my grandfather’s name,” Hermione said, “I like it. And I like Star – it suits her.”

“She really is quite heavenly,” Luna added, petting her daughter’s owl through the cage.

“How’s work, Ron?” Hermione asked as they stood around the small circle of trolleys.

“Good actually,” Ron answered, suddenly serious, “we caught Samson yesterday. Been after that bastard for a while.”

“I heard about that,” Hermione nodded, “our office was buzzing.”

“Well, your office better get him a life sentence.”

Harry stood back and watched his wife and his best friend discuss the business of catching the evil of the world. Ron had worked himself up to head Auror, really able to come into his own after Harry had left all those years ago. Hermione still worked in the legal division of the Ministry though her focus had moved to more political topics than when she first started there. Having already had success with better working conditions for house elves and better rights for werewolves, her latest undertaking was getting more land for the centaurs.

Meanwhile, Harry had returned to school. When the job of caretaker came up after Filch collapsed and died of a heart attack one summer, Harry had jumped at the chance to work at Hogwarts. He accepted the job of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor when he found out his new wife of a year was expecting their first child and has never looked back. He loved his job and when Professor McGonagall retired, it was strongly rumoured that he would be the next headmaster. Instead, it went to Professor Vector and Harry became deputy.

Now he had a job he loved, a wife that still amazed him and three wonderful children – Andrew, a mixture of himself and Hermione with black, wild hair, hazel eyes, terribly smart and the ability to cause mischief wherever he went. Hamish was the splitting image of Harry but with his mother’s more logical temperament while little Rosie was the opposite, looking like Hermione but impulsive and reckless like Harry and was definitely daddy’s little girl.

Ron and Luna hadn’t been so lucky with having a family of their own. Luna miscarried three times before Star was born, with the little girl seen as a miracle. The birth nearly killed Luna so they had decided they wouldn’t try for any more. Luna had taken over her father’s paper after he died, with her and Ron moving into the Lovegood home not long after they were married.

The two families were never too far apart, and over the years spent just as much time in Grimmauld Place as they did at Ottery St. Catchpole.

“Harry,” Ron muttered, grabbing Harry’s attention as the redhead indicated to someone standing just off to the side of them. Draco Malfoy was watching them, his sour looking wife and prissy son at his side. In a way, Harry felt sorry for him, his life once more governed by his family and what was expected of him. Malfoy had returned to being a stuck-up arrogant prat years ago and Ron and his team kept a very careful eye on him.

But today he was just a father seeing his son off to Hogwarts for the first time. And he was also the ex-boyfriend of Ginny. During the few years that the two had dated, Harry had tolerated Malfoy where Ron tried, but couldn’t. Which is why Harry gave the blond a brief nod that was returned with the slightest of smiles before walking away.

“We found Rachel!” Rose announced as she, her brother, Star and the object of their search re-joined their parents. Behind them were Ginny and Neville Longbottom, with the rest of their large family.

“Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you Gin?” Ron teased as his sister hugged Luna a hello.

“Yeah, well, someone wouldn’t leave the house until she found her favourite sweater,” Ginny explained, glaring at the third of her five children, making Rachel grin sheepishly.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. Ginny had had a string of boyfriends after she broke up with Draco, working with George at the joke shop giving her an endless supply of possible suitors. But when Neville accepted the job as professor of Herbology at Hogwarts and Ginny managing the new shop in Hogsmeade, they started seeing each other and after a whirlwind romance, they were married and expecting the first of their five (nearly six, Ginny was due again in December) children before anyone had really realised they were serious. Ten years later, the two were still in love and seemingly continually expanding the Longbottom clan. Still managing the joke shop while raising the brood, Ginny was always busy and looking more and more like her mother by the minute.

“Right, you lot,” Harry instructed, ushering the group of children towards the train, “let’s get you all settled.”

There was a general cry of acceptance as they all made their way to the train, the kids chattering amongst themselves while the adults fell into conversation. Andrew caught up with them and took charge of his trolley while Rosie, the only first year, was introduced to the wonders of the Hogwarts Express.

It wasn’t long after that the train was rearing to go and each family split to say their goodbyes. Andrew, Hamish and Rose stood before Harry and Hermione in anticipation.

“Now, you both look out for your sister,” Hermione told the boys.

“Especially you Hamish, since she’s in your house,” Harry added. With the sorting hat destroyed during the war, the four houses were decided by random choice prior to school starting. It was felt that the traits that separated the students previously no longer had a place – everyone was equal. That’s not to say the rivalry between the houses had diminished, it just wasn’t as spiteful as before.

“And Andrew – this is your OWLS year so a bit less mucking about and a lot more studying from you, young man,” Hermione said sternly, getting a groan from her son.

“I always do good in my tests, mum,” Andrew frowned, “this year will be no different.”

“Well, I know that,” Hermione admitted, “but I think your results are more from luck than design. Just, oh, I don’t know, be a bit less disruptive. Some of your fellow classmates aren’t blessed with your ability…”

“I’ll try,” Andrew smiled, “don’t worry, mum. I won’t let you down!”

“Of that I have no doubt,” she smiled back, “right, give me a hug and then you can disappear.”

Andrew laughed and gave Hermione a hug – nearly as tall as her now, it was the awkward hug of a teenage boy and his mother.

“See you at school, dad,” Andrew shot at Harry then he was gone.

“See you at Christmas,” Hermione said to Rose as she gave her a hug, then wiping away the lone tear that had escaped down her daughter’s cheek, “oh sweetie, you’ll love it at Hogwarts! I know he’s a few years older, but Hamish is in the same house as you, so is Star and Rachel – Andy isn’t far away. You’ll be fine.”

“I…I know,” Rose whispered, “I’m just scared, I guess.”

“It’s okay to be scared, Rosie,” Harry told her, kneeling down to replace Hermione with a hug, “I mean, I was the first time I ever went…”

“But you didn’t know about magic!” she exclaimed, “and you had to be sorted into your houses. That would’ve been really scary!”

“True,” Harry agreed, standing, “but this is all new to you as well. Hamish will look out for you, won’t you son?”

“Sure,” Hamish grinned confidently, “and Rachel and Star. Don’t worry, the Ravenclaw common room is really wicked. And we can visit Andrew at Gryffindor whenever we want…”

“Within curfew,” Hermione added.

“Of course, mum,” Hamish rolled his eyes, “come on, we better go or we’ll miss the train.”

He gave Hermione and then Harry a goodbye hug, then waited as Rose did the same. Harry looked down on his little girl, the last of his children to start this magical journey, and he couldn’t ignore the wave of sadness that went through him.

“Be strong, little one,” he said to her tenderly, “and remember to have fun.”

“I will daddy,” she replied solemnly, “I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he smiled at her, gave her one more hug then let her stand next to her brother.

“Love you! Don’t forget to write, you two,” Hermione instructed and with a final wave, they ran to join their friends aboard the train.

“You know how scarily those two look like you two when you were younger?” Ginny asked as the six adults stood to watch.

“It’s quite unnerving, actually,” Ron added with a smirk.

“I can’t believe my baby’s left home,” Hermione sighed, and Harry put a comforting arm around her, bringing him into him. She leaned her head on his chest and Harry knew she was trying desperately not to cry.

“I know,” Harry agreed, waving to Hamish, Rose, Star and Rachel who were all hanging out of the window, “it seems like only yesterday she was born.”

“You could always have another child,” Neville suggested, holding the hand of one of their younger children not yet able to join his sister and brothers at Hogwarts.

“Not everyone is trying to produce their own Quidditch team like you and Ginny,” Ron joked.

“Besides, I’m back to the office in a couple of weeks,” Hermione added with a wistful smile, hugging Harry into her more tightly, “and it will be nice just having Harry to myself again.”

“I don’t want to know,” Ron muttered but then the train started to move and all attention was on the departing children.

Harry waved until they were out of sight, knowing he was being stupid because he would see them all in a few hours when they entered the hall and he was seated at the teachers’ table.

But it really felt like part of him had forever changed, grown up. It was the same feeling when he held Andrew in his arms for the first time. Or when Hamish’s eyes changed from baby blue to brilliant green and he recognised his mother in his own child’s face. Or when little baby Rose looked at him and called him daddy.

He had a family of his own that he loved more than he ever thought possible. Even after nearly twenty years of being together, Hermione still meant everything to him and every day with her was an incredible, exciting journey. So often, especially when Ron was with them, it was like they were back at Hogwarts with the banter and the camaraderie of their friendship always there.

As the train disappeared, Harry casually ran a hand of the scar on his forehead, thinking of how far his life had come.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Hermione asked, looking at him worriedly.

“Fine,” he smiled at her, “fantastic, actually. How about you?”

“A bit sad,” she admitted, “and feeling rather old.”

“You’re not old,” he told her as they started to leave the platform, “in fact, you’re only as old as the man you feel, so I’m told, and since I’m younger than you…”

“Not by much, Mr Potter,” she laughed.

“Hey, you two,” Ron called out to them, he and Luna hand in hand a few metres in front, “wanna join us for a drink at Diagon Alley?”

“Sure, why not,” Harry shrugged, “don’t have to be at Hogwarts for a few hours. Okay with you, Hermione?”

“My baby’s gone, the house is empty,” she sighed, “I have nothing to do so yep, a drink would be good.”

“Can I tag along?” a young man asked, coming up next to Hermione.

“Sure Teddy,” Harry clapped his godson on the shoulder, “so, Victoire is safely on the train?”

“Yep,” Teddy nodded, “thankfully it’s the last time. Bill and Fleur are pretty proud she got Head Girl, another Weasley carrying on tradition and all that. Hey, Uncle Ron – good work catching Samson!”

Teddy caught up with his boss and they began to chat about work. Sometimes it was a fine line between being a family friend and being a boss, or being a son or daughter and being a student, but after the years the boundaries are kept with little issue.

With his fingers intertwined with Hermione’s, Harry joined in with the group of friends – Ginny laughing with Neville, two of their five children trotting beside them, Ron talking to Teddy Lupin while Luna glided serenely by his side.

“Knut for your thoughts?” his wife asked him, nudging him slightly.

“Just thinking how lucky I am,” he told her, “that my life has turned out pretty good.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” she smiled, stopping so that he stopped too, turning to face her, “do you know how much I love you?”

“Yes,” he returned her smile, “probably as much as I love you.”

“I’ll never tire of hearing you say that,” she whispered to him.

“And I’ll never tire telling you,” he whispered back, “I love you.”

She didn’t reply, instead she took his face in her hands, gently pulling it towards her. He thought she was going to kiss him but instead, she pulled his head down a little bit further and did the one thing that always made everything he’d been through, all the hardships of his past, disappear. With a gentle touch, she moved away the fringe of his hair, her eyes glowing with so much love and understanding that he felt his throat constrict with emotion and with such softness, she kissed his scar.