A/N: So, Chapter 4! More fluff as the two work out some of Harry's never-ending emotional troubles, and plenty of James-bashing and Snape-hugging. (Sorry if I've made Snape seem a lot nicer than he is, but this was written shortly after reading the last book and finding out who Snape really was, so I was really in the mood to write him in a better light. *dodges flying fruit*)
And it seems Hermione has something special to tell Harry…
Enjoy!
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Harry returned upstairs about five minutes later and knocked on the bedroom door, which was closed.
"Come in," Hermione called. Harry opened the door and found her already sitting in bed, a lamp on the bedside table casting a flickering glow on her face. He joined her and the two settled down, Hermione snuggling into her favourite spot in Harry's arms. She had figured the spot out months ago, from the first few times that they had shared a bed in the tent. They lay in silence for a little while, before Hermione just couldn't ignore the fact that Harry seemed preoccupied any longer. She was dying to know what was bothering him.
"Harry," she said, turning so that she could look at him, "what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," he answered automatically. Typical Harry.
"Something is wrong and both of us know it," she said firmly. "You can tell me, Harry," she added, far more gently. "Please, love, don't keep secrets. Not from me."
He looked at her for a moment and sighed. "What's the point? You'll always drag them out of me in the end," he said, brushing her cheek with his thumb.
"Always," she agreed. "Now, come on, tell me what's bothering you."
Harry sighed. "Remember how none of us could figure out how we were supposed to get that Snitch open? You know, the one that Dumbledore left me?"
"Yes," she said, wondering where he was going with this. She had pushed the Snitch from her mind after none of them could get it open, assuming that it was just something between Harry and their old Headmaster, a remnant from one of their top-secret lessons back in sixth year or something. She had been preoccupied by the translation of The Tales of Beadle the Bard, after all, not to mention the Horcrux hunt and the task of keeping both herself and her friends alive while they hid in the forest.
"Well, I figured it out, right before I went- Oh, wait, I haven't told you anything about what happened in the Forbidden Forest, have I?" he asked, realizing that this was going to take a bit longer than he had expected. He probably wouldn't finish his story that night.
"In the Forest?" Hermione repeated. "What are you talking about? When were we in the Forest?"
"We were never in the Forest," Harry told her. "I was. Remember, Voldemort and his gang of Death Eaters brought me out of it when everyone thought I was dead?"
"Yes," she said, and her voice shook a little as she remembered the moment of absolute terror, that instant in which she had thought that Harry - her Harry - was gone forever. Harry must have noticed, for she felt his arms tighten around her a little a moment later, pulling her into a reassuringly snug embrace.
"You know that I was perfectly fine," he said, both to reassure her and to continue his story, "but I didn't know that before I went into the Forest. I only knew that I had to let Voldemort kill me, not that I was going to be able to survive."
"But why, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Why would you just let yourself be killed like that? Why did you give yourself up?"
"It was Snape's memories," Harry explained. "You remember how I collected them when he died?"
She nodded. Of course she remembered; she had given him a vial to put the memories in.
"Well, I went to go and see what they were, because he obviously wouldn't just give them to me for no reason. I used Dumbledore's Pensieve and it took me through Snape's memories. I learned a lot about him, you know," he said, remembering his surprise when he found out that his horrid Potions professor wasn't really all that horrid. "I thought he was the bane of my existence, put on Earth for no purpose other than to make my life a living hell and to do the same for everyone I cared about, but it turns out that he was really protecting me all this time, playing spy for Dumbledore even when he could have been killed for it."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Why?" she asked.
Harry swallowed. "Because he loved my mother," he said quietly.
Hermione's jaw dropped. "Snape… Snape was in love with your mother? We're still talking about Snape here, right? The same Snape who we suffered through Potions class with?"
"He wasn't as bad as he seemed, you know," Harry said, finding his tone to be a bit sharper than he had intended. "Sorry," he apologized, seeing Hermione's slightly hurt look after he snapped at her. "I guess I feel like I have to defend him now, after all those years when I hated him more than anyone in the world, when I thought that he hated my mother and father and everyone I loved, and it turned out that he was actually risking his life for me because he loved my mother."
Hermione nodded. "I understand," she said, and he knew that she did. "I feel like that too, now that I know that he was actually a pretty good person. But… he was in love with your mother?" she repeated, still looking completely shocked.
"Yeah," said Harry. "They were friends. He lived near her when they were kids, and he even told her that she was a witch even before she got her Hogwarts letter. He'd seen her perform accidental magic and knew what was happening, because his mother was a witch and he knew that he was a wizard," he explained when Hermione gave him a questioning look. "After that, they became friends, and after that, he ended up falling in love with her." Harry sighed. "He fell in love with her and she fell in love with my father."
"That's so sad," said Hermione. "What happened? Did he ever tell her how he felt? Did they stay friends?"
Harry shook his head. "They weren't even friends anymore by the time she fell in love with my dad."
"What happened? Did they have a fight or something?" Hermione asked.
"He called her a Mudblood," said Harry.
"Oh," said Hermione. "I guess that makes sense, then. I wouldn't stay friends with someone who called me that."
"It was all an accident, though," Harry said, actually feeling bad for Snape. "My father and his friends were bullying him and my mum tried to make them stop, so my dad and his friends teased Snape about having to be protected by a girl, and he just snapped and shouted that he didn't need help from a Mudblood like her. He didn't mean it," Harry said sadly. "I know he didn't mean it. He loved her, Hermione. He would never call her a Mudblood and really mean it."
"Oh, Harry…" said Hermione, who was at a loss for words.
"My dad and his friends just pushed him too far, that was all," said Harry. "God, 'Mione, it hurt to see what my father really was: a bully with a superiority complex and too much popularity for his own good, and sometimes a bit of a show-off as well. Snape's been telling the truth all this time," he said miserably, remembering the time that he had snapped at Snape, back in his third year at Hogwarts: "My father didn't strut!" It turned out that James Potter really had spent his school days strutting around Hogwarts like he owned the place, showing off his Quidditch skills by catching stolen Snitches, breaking rules faster than Filch could come up with new ones, and always making sure to carefully rumple his hair for the girls.
"Oh, Harry, he couldn't have been all that bad…" Hermione said, trying to reassure him.
"He was," Harry insisted. "Well, at least until my mum managed to deflate his head a bit," he added fairly, remembering that his mother had managed to get his father's superiority complex under control after a while. "But, still, he was such an arrogant prat sometimes, especially to Snape, for no reason other than the fact that he existed."
"That can't have been the only reason, Harry…"
Harry shook his head again. "There was no other reason, 'Mione. My dad said it himself, when my mum asked him what Snape had ever done to deserve the treatment he got from my dad. He told her that it was just because Snape existed. Personally, though, I think it might've been that my dad fancied my mum and didn't like her hanging around with another boy, so bullying Snape made him feel better. Either way, Snape didn't deserve what he got. Even when he hexed my dad or his friends, it was only in self-defence, never for any other reason than to try to keep himself safe. He didn't sneak up on them and curse them because he felt like it or because he was bored," he said, remembering the reason that his father and his friends had teased Snape on the day that the poor man had lost the love of his life by calling her a Mudblood, "or because he fancied putting on a show for the girls or something, like they did to him. He was nothing to them but their scapegoat, their little punching bag, who was always conveniently around whenever they felt like having a laugh or venting their feelings on someone."
"What a story," Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief.
"And it doesn't end there," said Harry. "After Snape called my mum a Mudblood, he stayed in front of the Fat Lady's portrait all day, begging her to come and talk to him. He wanted to say he was sorry, but my mum didn't care. I guess I understand, I mean, she was really hurt by what he had said. Someone who she had thought was her friend had called her a Mudblood, after all. The only reason she ever went out to talk to him was that he was threatening to sleep outside the common room if she didn't. They talked and he tried to apologize, but my mum wouldn't forgive him. I guess she couldn't. She was too hurt by what he had done, even if it had just been an accident. I mean, he did call her a Mudblood in front of a bunch of people she knew. She left him standing alone outside the common room and they never really spoke again after that."
"Poor Snape," Hermione said sadly. "Though I must say that I would never have imagined that I'd say that."
"Yeah, I would never have imagined that I'd actually feel sorry for the man," Harry agreed. "And the saddest thing is, even after my mum stopped speaking to Snape and started dating my dad, Snape still loved her. Even after my mum and dad got married, he still loved her. After I was born, he still loved her. He begged Voldemort to leave her and the rest of my family alone, but Voldemort didn't listen and went after my family anyway - went after my mum. Snape pretended that he didn't care, that he didn't love my mother anymore and just thought of her as being beneath him because of her blood, just like Voldemort did, but he became Dumbledore's spy and took care of me even though he hated how much I reminded him of my father, except for-"
"Your eyes," Hermione finished, surprising Harry. "Because they're just like your mother's."
"How did you know that?" he asked her, perplexed.
"Everybody always says that you look exactly like your father, except for your mother's eyes," Hermione pointed out. "Snape would obviously have noticed. Everybody notices."
Harry nodded. "He did notice, and that was why it nearly killed him to look at me, because I reminded him of his lost best friend, the woman who he still loved even though she had completely shunned him after he made one little mistake, and the fact that she might not have ended up with my father - who I am, apparently, the spitting image of - if Snape hadn't slipped that one time - which, to top it all off, was my father's fault in the first place - and called her a Mudblood."
"Oh, Harry…" was all Hermione could say.
"Snape's Patronus was a doe," Harry said sadly. "Just like my mother's. It was a doe his entire life, even after she married my dad and had me. Even after she died. That was how much he loved my mum."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Your mother's Patronus was a doe?" she asked.
"Yes," said Harry. "Why?"
"Harry…" Hermione said, sitting up. "I think there's something you need to see, then. I was going to tell you tomorrow, but… Well, now seems like a good time."
"What is it?" Harry, asked, sitting up as well as Hermione got out of bed, taking her wand off of the nightstand as she went.
"After you left to go to the Forest during the battle, there was a massive Dementor attack on the castle. And by 'massive', I mean practically every Dementor that guards Azkaban was hovering around the place," Hermione told him. "I guess Voldemort must have gotten them on his side, somehow. Maybe he promised them a load of souls or something."
Harry didn't understand what that had to do with anything.
"OK…" he said, his tone telling her to continue.
"So, obviously, we needed Patronuses, unless we all wanted to get our souls sucked out," she continued.
"Yes…" he said.
"Well, there were so many Dementors that I didn't think I was going to be able to cast a Patronus. You know how I have trouble with it every now and then," she said. "Like back at the Ministry, and there were only a few then, not hundreds."
"Mm-hm…"
"I didn't think I'd be able to find a memory that was happy enough to fight so many Dementors, but then I thought of the day we became a couple, oh-so-officially," she said, a small smile spreading across her face. "That day in the snow, remember?"
"Yeah, the day I caught you singing a love song," Harry said with a grin. "About me, no less." She went a little pink but continued her story, apparently not to be deterred from whatever it was that she was trying to tell him.
"Yes, the day you caught me singing." Embarrassed, she left out the part about how she had been singing a love song about Harry. "Well, I thought of that memory and, miracle of miracles, I managed to cast a Patronus."
"That's good, but what does that have to do with my mother's Patronus?" Harry asked.
She smiled at him. "Watch," she said. "Expecto Patronum."
The silvery light of a Patronus burst from the tip of her wand, and Harry was shocked to see that her Patronus was no longer the playful, graceful otter it had been before, but-
"A doe," he breathed.
She smiled. "Yeah," she said softly, looking down at the silvery animal that now stood in the room, its bright light out of place in a house as gloomy as Number Twelve. After a moment, the doe vanished and Hermione joined Harry again.
"But… your Patronus is an otter," he said. "It's always been an otter. Ever since the first time you cast one in the Room of Requirement, back when we were in the DA."
"It changed," she said. "Patronuses can change. Tonks' did, remember?"
"Yes, I know, but… why? I know Tonks' changed because of Sirius and Remus, but why did yours?" he asked, perplexed.
"Oh, Harry, don't you see?" she asked. "It was you. You made it change."
"Me?" Harry repeated, surprised. "What-? How-? How do you know?"
She rolled her eyes. "Harry, what's the male equivalent of a doe?"
The minute the words were out of her mouth, realization dawned on Harry's face. "A stag," he said, his eyes slightly widened. "Like my Patronus."
"Exactly," she said, "just like your Patronus." She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled up at him. "Mine changed to match yours, Harry."
"But… why?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Guess," she said, and pressed her lips against his.
~*~
There was a blissful few moments of silence after that, in which our two lovers remained thoroughly occupied by each other. Once they broke apart (ah, the need for air is such a bother sometimes), Hermione returned to leaning her head on Harry's shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her in a snug embrace.
"Oh, 'Mione, I don't believe it," said Harry, who was feeling rather awed. "You really think your Patronus changed because of me?"
"Of course I do, Harry," she replied, smiling. "A stag and a doe. How fitting."
"Very fitting," Harry agreed. "But… why would it change just because of me? I mean, I know we're a couple and all, but you and Ron were sort of like that a while ago-" (Hermione made a face) "-and it's not like your Patronus became a female terrier or something."
"Oh, Harry, you're so daft sometimes, did you know that?" she asked him.
"Yes, you've told me that once or twice," he said with a smirk.
"Harry," she said, with the air of explaining something to a five-year-old, "I never felt the way I feel about you when it came to Ron, you know that. Patronuses don't change their forms easily," she pointed out, and Harry began to understand the situation a little more, realizing why this hadn't happened when Ron and Hermione had been 'together', "it usually takes some sort of big emotional change in a person. Tonks' Patronus changed when she lost Sirius and fell in love with Remus, and as for mine," she snuggled closer to him, "it must've changed when I fell in love with you."
Harry smiled fondly at her. "My doe," he said softly, kissing her forehead.
"Don't you mean 'my deer'?" she asked, grinning.
He rolled his eyes. "You know that that's a terrible joke, right?"
She nodded. "Yeah, but I couldn't help myself."
Harry just rolled his eyes again. "Well, now I have something embarrassing to call you if you ever call me your teddy bear in front of Tonks." He grinned evilly at her. "You call me your teddy bear and I'll call you my doe."
She shrugged. "I wouldn't mind if you did. I think it's sweet that our Patronuses match."
His grin went from evil to affectionate. "It is sweet," he agreed. "Just like you," he added.
She rolled her eyes, but he could tell that she was pleased. "Flattery gets you nowhere, Mister Potter."
"And yet, in some crazy way, you still manage to love me," he said, nuzzling her nose in a momentary Eskimo kiss.
She smiled up at him. "You know I do, very much. I'm your doe, aren't I?"
"Yes, you are," said Harry. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Of course you wouldn't," said Hermione, playfully poking him in the chest. "I wouldn't let you."
"That's sounds like a binding magical contract, you know," said Harry. "The last time I ended up stuck with one of those, I had to out-fly a dragon!"
"Not this time, love. I promise," Hermione said with a smile. "Although I might chase after you with a broom every once in a while, just to make sure your reflexes are up to speed," she added thoughtfully.
"Do-it-yourself Quidditch practice, eh?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes and grinning.
"Nah, if I was making you practice your Quidditch skills, I'd be pitching the things you love most across the room and forcing you to catch them. You're a Seeker, after all."
"But, Hermione," said Harry, mock-surprised, "however would you pitch yourself across a room?"
"And you say I'm turning into a girl," she said, rolling her eyes at him, but Harry could tell that she was really quite pleased by what he had said.
"Yes, well…" he said, kissing her forehead. "I'm willing to drop the macho-man, 'fearless saviour of the wizarding world' stuff every once in a while, if it's for you."
"Oh, Harry…" was all she said before tenderly kissing him on the lips once more. Once the two had broken apart, they settled back down, Hermione snuggling into her favourite spot in Harry's arms once again.
"You still haven't finished your story about the Snitch," she murmured.
"I'll finish it tomorrow, love," he replied. "We're b- both too tired for storytelling," he said, yawning.
"I guess you're r- right," she agreed. Harry's yawn was contagious.
Harry smiled at her. "I guess things are going to be quite a bit easier for us, after tomorrow."
"Yeah," she agreed. "Then we won't have to be such a huge secret. No more hiding behind trees whenever we feel like kissing each other."
"No more refraining from holding hands, thank Merlin," Harry added. "That's been the hardest part for me. We both got so used to it, back in the tent, that now it's like reminding myself not to breathe."
Hermione nodded. "Same here."
"It's going to be great, being able to be around our friends without having to pretend that everything's the same," said Harry. "I hate keeping secrets from them. They're the few people who've actually been honest to me, after all."
Hermione sighed. "Yeah, it'll be great to be able to tell the truth to our friends, if we even have any friends after we drop this bomb on them."
Harry gave her a reassuring squeeze. "If they were ever our friends, they'll be able to accept that things have changed and that we're together now. If they can't accept that, well, they don't deserve to be called our friends."
Hermione looked heartened. "Yeah. I guess that real friends would be happy if two of their friends fell in love with each other."
"Now you've got the r- right idea," said Harry, yawning again. "Come on, we both need some sleep," he said, removing his glasses and transferring them to the nightstand.
"You're right," said Hermione, extinguishing the lamp and plunging the room into darkness before settling down in Harry's arms again. "Goodnight, Harry."
"'Night, 'Mione."
"Love you," she added, with a light kiss on his cheek.
He smiled in the darkness and gave her another gentle squeeze. "Love you too."