Author's Note: This is the last of the already-written chapters, but hopefully updating will still retain some kind of regularity. Thanks for the many reviews-I can assure you I've read all of them more than once.
Onto business: If anything, I have less money this chapter than when writing the last one, and it certainly wasn't spent on the rights to Harry Potter.
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Chapter 6: Sorry, Things Change
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So much for a restful weekend! It was late Tuesday afternoon, and it seemed like Harry, Hermione, and Ron could do nothing but sit in a daze upon the couch, while the muted television cast sickly glows over their haggard faces.
Harry, it seemed, hadn't counted on the fact that Quidditch tournaments meant parties, press conferences, and games all in one fell swoop-all of which he was obligated to participate in. The game part he didn't mind, but the other two prevented him for grabbing more than maybe four hours of sleep the entire weekend.
Ron hadn't fared much better sleep-wise, but as Hermione pointed out, "You should've known better than to go out with Dean and Seamus two nights in a row, after working with George all day." Nonetheless, the poor boy looked about as exhausted as Harry, and perhaps a tad hung over.
Hermione had tried to pass her own exhaustion off as being created by the boys' sleep-deprived minds, but one look from Harry and she admitted that about halfway through her weekend at home, she'd been called into work, and being unable to figure out what to make of some new developments was driving her, as Ron put it, "barmy." She neglected to mention why she'd been so eager to get away from home, assuming the two would ascribe it to her bookworm ways, although Harry didn't seem quite so convinced.
So here they all were, barely able to stumble into their shared flat and collapse onto the couch. Hermione curled up against one corner, remote in hand, while Ron sprawled out across the middle, leaving just enough room for Harry to squeeze in on the other end. The rambling conversation between them had drifted to silence, and as Harry stared at the muted TV, exhaustion lulled him into a state of semi-consciousness, and his eyes slowly closed.
At the abrupt sound of snoring, Harry's eyes flew open again, only for the young wizard to realize that Ron had simply fallen asleep. He grinned over his red-haired friend towards Hermione, who only rolled her eyes and tucked a pillow behind Ron's head.
"I'm going to head into the study to try and get a little work done, okay Harry?" She whispered, and he nodded, giving her a minute's head start before following her out of the room.
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The past day or so she'd been rather evasive, and it was beginning to bother him. Normally Hermione was always there to pester him and Ron about their behavior, inquire nosily about their days, and drive them up the wall in general. But now that she'd stopped nagging, he didn't feel relieved in the least (Ron would have laughed at that admission). And even though it had only been two days, when it was combined with the bad mood she'd been in during the weeks before, he was more than a little perturbed. So rather than trying to avoid confronting her (like he normally would have done), Harry found himself acting just as nosy as his bushy-haired friend. For a few minutes, he just peeked through the cracked doorway, watching her organize and reorganize her papers. He watched as she straightened the piles and checked the ink to make sure it was fresh, and as she tapped the end of her quill against the desk (which really looked more a like a strange way to dust, as it was the feathery end she was tapping), and frowned with concentration. Or at least, he thought it was concentration until she remarked softly, but sternly,
"You might as well come in; it's a little creepy when you stare like that."
Harry was awkwardly reminded of McGonagall for a minute before he plopped down in one of the armchairs along the wall. Being confrontational wasn't exactly something he was used to. He cleared his throat a few times, but couldn't quite bring himself to actually say anything. Hermione looked at him inquisitively over her paperwork, determined give Harry a chance to speak before she forced a conversation. To be honest, it was a little painful acting so off-hand about her best friend, but it seemed like the only way to deal with things right now. After that rather strange conversation with her parents, she wasn't exactly sure how to proceed. There wasn't exactly a book she could read about dealing with the possibility she might be in love with her best friend.
Having finally gathered his courage (`Are you a Gryffindor or not?'), Harry finally managed to speak up.
"So, um, Hermione, how's work?"
She gave him a skeptical look, but quickly forgot to be annoyed as she launched into her story. Even though she wasn't really supposed to discuss her work, Hermione had the feeling no one would object to sharing a little information with the Harry Potter.
"It's really interesting, Harry. I mean, this past weekend we thought there was some kind of huge breakthrough, but of course that only led to a lot of new questions about the nature of magic, especially with the changes we've noticed lately, so now-"
"Wait, what changes?" Harry interrupted, alarmed. He didn't entirely understand what Hermione studied, but the idea that magic itself was changing definitely left a knot in his stomach.
"Oh, I don't think you of all people need to be worried, Harry. It's really more of a pattern than a strange phenomenon. You know, kind of like in the Muggle world, more boys tend to be born during wartimes and such-well, we've started to notice that something like that happens in the Wizarding World."
"More babies?" Harry asked, confused.
"No, no, just that the distribution of magic and the kinds of families that have magical children seem to adjust based on the state of the Wizarding world."
"Oh."
"Exactly. See, we worried because with so many killed," here she hesitated, "and so few new magic children being born, there could be issues with magic eventually running out. Then one of the others at the department - Johns - noticed that-" She frowned, halting her little speech,
"But this doesn't seem like something you'd be really interested in. What do you really want to talk about?" So much for letting Harry guide the conversation.
Harry was taken aback a little himself. Apparently he would have to follow through on his somewhat sudden plan after all.
"Why don't we spend time together anymore?" He blurted out. Well, Hermione had always told him that he lacked tact, and here he went proving that remark yet again.
She sighed, and looked at him fondly, but not how she used to. In fact, she looked like she was trying to be older than he was (which while true, had never been expressed in such a patronizing way).
"Oh, Harry. Things change. I've got work, you've got Quidditch, and Ron has the shop with George. It's been busy this weekend. Before that, we spent loads of time together."
"Yeah, but you keep leaving the room when it's just us. I'm not that stupid, Hermione. I can figure out when you're avoiding me."
"Things were going to change eventually. It's not like we could keep things the way they are-you're going to find someone - Ginny, probably - and when you get serious you'll have to make her more important than us anyways, especially me," Hermione evaded, though her face betrayed a little pain before resuming its oddly patronizing stare. Using harsh reality to avoid the real issue hurt more than she had expected, and all this trouble over nothing and one conversation with her parents.
"Just because we're not at Hogwarts anymore, or on the run from Voldemort, doesn't mean we can't be friends anymore, Hermione. Ron's still my friend, and you are too. Unless…" Harry was saying as his friend muttered something about having to give her up-it was ridiculous, thinking he should have to choose between his best friend and some nonexistent girlfriend Hermione kept bringing up. She wasn't going to bail out over something that hadn't even happened yet, was she?
A terrible hole, worse than when he was afraid that magic might disappear, filled his stomach. Hermione had never abandoned him, not once. Sure, they'd been a little distant over Snape's book, or the Firebolt, but he'd never even considered giving her up for any of that stuff. She and Ron had refused to leave in the face of possible (more like probable) death. Surely she wasn't going to stop being his best friend just because they weren't seventeen anymore? And that remark about Ginny-though it might have sounded nice to plan on marrying her before, he certainly didn't think that now. It was almost laughable, in spite of whine of panic starting to run through his system.
And then the flicker of pain on her face caught his attention. What was really going on?
"Nothing's going on," she replied stiffly. He was thrown off by the fact he'd actually asked it aloud, but he was sure now that she was lying. After all, it had always been easier for him to catch onto her lies faster than anyone else.
"Hermione, what's wrong?"
"Things change. They really do."
"So? We're still friends."
"Always. It's just, things are going to be harder now-jobs and romances and no more schoolwork for me to help you with."
"That never stopped you before, and you aren't my friend just because I'm no good at Herbology. But if you want to-"
"Not a chance."
And she gave him a characteristically `Hermione' smile, and even though he still wasn't sure what was going on exactly, he already felt loads better-it seemed she'd given up the nonsense about leaving.
"So tell me about that tournament."
And as they settled into casual conversation, he instinctively took her hand and squeezed it gently, as if to remind her that they were going to get through whatever was bothering her. And even if he didn't know what it was yet, he trusted her enough to know she'd eventually tell him.
Perhaps she should have felt a bit guilty about not telling him why she was really, truly, nervous about staying his friend. The possibility of slipping up and doing or saying something out of the `just friends' category, or being completely sure she was in love with him, all the while feeling fairly certain he had never so much as thought of her outside the realm of sister, filled her with a terror she hadn't come close to feeling since being at the Malfoy Manor. And maybe she did, a little. But for the moment it was enough to know that Harry actually wanted her around, and wasn't just her friend out of habit. And she was certainly relieved that she was, because Hermione had a feeling that even if it was the practical thing to do, she couldn't have stopped being his - or Ron's - friend.
As the conversation progressed, a sleepy Ron wandered in, and conversation adjusted to accommodate the three of them. It was probably a good thing Ron was still half-asleep, as Harry had forgotten to let go of her hand, and the last thing she wanted was for Ron to start teasing her over nothing.
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Added note: To be honest, I don't remember where or when I first heard the bit about babies being born. I don't even know if that's still true, or if it ever was. So don't mock the vague memories in my head, please. It's only for illustrative purposes anyways.
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