Unofficial Portkey Archive

Magic and Misperceptions

Chapter 12: If He Fell

By: addisonj

Beta: DeeMichelle

Disclaimer: The following story is based on situations and characters owned by J.K. Rowling, Jane Austen, and their publishers.

***

Harry Potter was falling for Hermione Granger.

He could not deny otherwise. Maybe it was the Cornish landscape with its rough beauty, wide beaches and rocky cliffs. They would meet quite early in the morning and go for walks. Long walks along the beach, and Harry would notice how her crazy curly hair would fly behind her, like a woolly cape, and when the wind was behind them, it would fall in front of her face and she would laugh. A wonderful, hearty yet still feminine laugh. Her laugh personified her: it was whole-hearted, it was genuine, it had a touch of French but it had some British modesty as if decorum were still needed when enjoying oneself. But it was not being held back, it came out and she enjoyed it. She would even give a little snort sometimes when she was really laughing hard and that would make her laugh even harder.

How could he have assumed she was a fangirl? It was because he assumed since she was always in the company of two of the biggest fangirls in Britain: Parvati and Lavender. But she was their housemate, wasn't she? And she was actually in that house because of her friendship with Luna, and it seemed that Padma was her best friend, other than Luna. Luna was an endearing flake, but Padma was warm intellect, as was Hermione.

They had common ground. Muggleborn, being thrust into the wizarding world. He didn't talk about the war and neither did she, but they had so many other things in common.

"Oh, how I miss the internet!" Hermione confessed one blustery morning. "I'd put wifi in the house if I could. But I'm half afraid of introducing the world wide web to Pav and Lav; they'd be downloading images of half naked celebrities I'm sure and exposing my laptop to all sorts of viruses."

"Can you keep a secret?" Harry said in a stage whisper.

Hermione arched an eyebrow and leaned closer. "But, of course," she said in dramatically lower tones.

He inched closer until his lips were nearly against her ear. Damn! He wanted to do more than whisper. "I have a cell phone," he said.

Hermione stepped back and laughed. That wonderful wonderful laugh. She couldn't speak, but reached into her wand pocket and pulled out the latest iPhone. He laughed and pulled out a Blackberry. They continued to laugh as they took pictures of the other and loaded their information into newly created contact pages.

"Hey! What are you typing there?" Harry peered over her shoulder as she was inputting his information. "`Harry bloody Potter'?!"

She whirled around so that he couldn't see, but he had Seeker reflexes and moved just as quickly to follow. "Harry bloody Potter!" he exclaimed again.

"Ssh!" she responded. "You don't want to give away your secret, do you?"

"Well, don't you think the `B'in `bloody' should be capitalised then?"

"I don't think we learned that in school. Besides, I think you're only worthy of a lowercase `B'."

He tried to snatch the phone from her hands which caused her to start running down the beach, and he simply had to follow her. She was surprisingly quick for a bookworm, but he soon caught up with her and tried to wrestle it from her hands which she kept behind her back, switching the phone from one hand to another as he tried to capture it.

Finally, he changed tactic and just kissed her soundly on the lips. Startled, she forgot about the phone and he was then able to grab it and run away while she stood there astonished. He felt gobsmacked as well, but had to hide it for the game to continue. He wasn't sure how she'd react and was a bit afraid she'd hex him, so he kept looking over his shoulder in case a wand suddenly appeared.

She recovered quickly and soon followed him, faster than before. He let himself be caught, slowing down unexpectedly so she fell right into him. As they landed on the sand, she threw some soft blows into his hard abdomen. "Bloody Potter is right," he could hear her muttering under her breath and he tried to dodge her weak attempts at punches and still hide the phone.

"Mercy! Mercy!" he called out, his hands open in surrender as he decided to end the tussle. She quickly grabbed the phone from his hands and hid it in her pocket. He was grateful she didn't take out the wand that he knew was hidden there as well. Instead, she fell down upon the sand next to him, then just as quickly sat up on her elbows. He soon learned why, lying down on the sand, the wind was such that sand would blow into his face. He sat up and mirrored her pose.

"It's bloody beautiful here, isn't it Harry bloody Potter?" she asked a few moments later, filling the silence. "I could live here. Maybe I will, once my work is done."

"Will your work ever be done, Mademoiselle Granger?" he asked, half seriously.

She turned to look at him squarely. "You understand why I have to do it?" she asked simply but firmly.

He nodded. He didn't want to tell her about Remus Lupin or Dobby. Now was not the time. "Yes," he replied equally firmly and simply.

They turned their heads to look back at the white capped waves rushing to shore.

***

They would talk about childhoods and school. They avoided the War-neither was really sure why. Hermione guessed that Harry was sick of talking about it, and Harry guessed that Hermione was so well-read, she probably knew enough. They talked about knowing there was something different about themselves, but no idea what.

"There was this one time Dudley was irritating this snake at a zoo, and I just wished the glass away and the snake escaped. I didn't' realise I knew Parseltongue as well."

"They must have thought you were speaking in tongues. Surprised they didn't lock you away," she joked.

Harry didn't respond in kind. "They did lock me up," he said quietly. Hermione gasped, understanding her mistake. She took his hand.

"I'm an idiot," she said. "I forget sometimes."

He smiled weakly and squeezed her hand. "It's still so strange that so many people know so many things about my life."

"That would drive me nuts. I love privacy. All I want to do is sit with a good book and a cup of tea. That would be my ideal day. My ideal week in fact."

"Mine would be flying on a broom, or spending time with friends. Being taken care of by the Weasleys, in a real family."

"I wish my family was closer. I wish there were more of them."

"I wish I had a real family."

Hermione caught the undertones of sadness in Harry's response. She squeezed his hand in sympathy. "One thing I really like about being an adult instead of a child is that you have the ability to create your own family. You can actually decide and choose who is in your family, and blood has nothing to do with it."

"Have you created your own family then, Mademoiselle Granger?"

"Well, Eleanor Roosevelt and Madame Curie weren't available, but the Lovegoods have been quite accommodating. And Neville and Padma are like my siblings. Back at Beauxbatons, my best friend, Marguerite Saint-Denis's family nearly adopted me. But I do love my own parents, and grand-mère et grand-père. They don't always recognise me now, but at least I have wonderful memories before they fell to dementia. And you?"

"The Weasleys, of course. And Sirus. My godfather. We had too short a time together." Harry frowned and pitched a stone into the sea. Hermione tried to turn the conversation around.

"And at the Ministry? My impression is that Aurors see each other as brothers, like soldiers in wartime?"

"Yes, it is that way."

"So is Kyle up to brother status?"

Harry smiled. "Perhaps, he's a stepbrother at this point. But moving closer in relations."

"Ah," Hermione returned the smile, "no wonder you chose a glamour that doesn't resemble his. But why choose to be American?"

"I thought I could pull it off."

"Definitely not to another American. Something was a bit off. You definitely could pull off Canadian."

"Too easy. I like a challenge."

"There's a challenge and there's being risky. Lucky we're on the same side."

"We definitely are on the same side, aren't we?" Harry was looking closely at the witch by his side. Something sparked in her eyes as well.

"Yes, I believe we are."

***

"Favourite food?"

"That's easy. Treacle tart. They made a wonderful one at Hogwarts. And you?"

"Baked pumpkin."

Harry broke out in hysterical laughter. Hermione swotted at him.

"Baked pumpkin?" he laughed. "Not something extra sweet like jam doughnuts or chocolate frogs or a flavour of Bertie's Botts?"

Hermione made a face and swotted him again, which he dodged easily.

"My parents are dentists. I don't even put sugar in my tea or coffee. I'd be disowned if I had a sweet tooth!"

"Okay, so imagine you were me." When Hermione made another face, he changed tactics. "Well, not me specifically, but anyone who does not have dentists for parents. If you could imagine such a world, what would be your favourite food?"

Hermione stopped walking along the beach and closer her eyes. A small smile grew on her face. "Sugar quills," she finally spoke. She opened her eyes. "Definitely sugar quills."

"I knew it! I knew there was a sugar tooth in there!" he grinned. Hermione tried to swat at him again but he started jogging down the beach. Hermione started to chase him, but then slowed down. Harry, realizing she was lagging behind, slowed down as well until they were side by side.

"Have you noticed we usually end up running on this beach in the morning, usually me chasing you?" Hermione began. Harry only raised an eyebrow. "I'm beginning to think you are becoming a secret personal trainer and trying to get me to exercise."

"Have you thought that maybe I'm trying to get away from you?"

Hermione tried to swot him again but he once again dodged it. "Definitely not. You'd Apparate if you really wanted to get away."

"You're absolutely right, Mademoiselle Granger," he responded. "I would get away, but I rather like it here with you."

"I like it, too, Mr Potter," she replied.

At times like this, Harry would wonder why they got along so well here in Cornwall whereas they fought so much in London. Was it the environment? Being away from other people and distractions, and just focusing on the moment? And would this continue when they returned to London?

"Did I tell you that my parents' home is near here? That's where I spent my first year."

"Really? Godric's Hollow is nearby?"

Harry frowned for a moment, but Hermione caught the reaction. "Sorry. I hate it when I say too much. I just love information and I tend to spout it out without thinking. I've been called a busy know-it-all."

"No, it's not you specifically. I know I've said this before, but I still can't get used to people knowing so much about me, people that are total strangers."

They walked in silence for a bit, until Hermione spoke again.

"That's one thing that broke up Viktor and me. Stop me if I've said this before, but the press in Bulgaria was frightening. The Daily Prophet is tame by comparison. They hated that their star athlete was with someone plain-" she started listing on her fingers, "-someone English, and someone Muggleborn. They chose to ignore Viktor's wishes in the matter and kept posting photos of these gorgeous models that he should be dating, and print their photos looking gorgeous next to the ugliest photos of me. It was crushing. I know I'm not pretty and I can live with that, but they couldn't. It didn't matter that we enjoyed each other's company and were best friends; the press took it personally and called me out cruelly. It was horrible. I went back to France as soon as I could; I'm more anonymous there than Bulgaria, for Merlin's sake."

"But couldn't Viktor help? And if you really loved each other…"

"Oh, that's another thing. I don't love Viktor the way he loves me. I really thought I did, but I only love him as a friend."

Harry had no idea why he got a queasy feeling in his stomach then.

"And Cormac? Ernie? Draco?"

Hermione laughed. "Are you following my social life? I don't think it was even posted in the Daily Prophet; you must be totally bored on patrol to delve into such a boring topic, but no, all friends. I actually tend to have more male than female friends. I don't care for girly things like fashion and makeup and ogling Quidditch players."

Harry wondered how he could have had such a wrong first impression of her.

"So, you're not seeing anyone at the moment…"

"I'm seeing you aren't I?" Hermione's eyes twinkled, and she started to laugh at the startled look on Harry's face. "Teasing! My goodness you're tightly wound today. Maybe we should go for a run." And she started to sprint ahead of him. Once he regained his composure, he followed, easily overtaking her and grabbing her by the waist as her laughter was carried in the breeze.

***

"Getting the letter from Hogwarts was the beginning of a new life for me. Suddenly, everything made sense. When I was five and was angry at a neighbour, the toy we were fighting over just blew apart. When I was mad, the light bulb in the dining room blew out. And when I felt very very happy, I swore the roses in our garden accelerated their blooming. It all began to make sense and I felt, well, normal isn't the word. Let me rephrase that; that my normal wasn't as weird as I thought it was."

"I was called a freak by family, but when Hagrid showed up and took me to Diagon Alley to buy school supplies, and I realised there was this whole other world right here in London that I never knew existed, but that I was a part of, a big part of, it was like Christmas and every birthday rolled into one."

Once again it was a morning walk on the beach, and the two friends were sitting side by side in the sand. They had identical looks of happiness, remembering their early days as witch and wizard.

"I was just amazed by everything. I couldn't take it all in at once, it was sensory overload. And McGonagall had to walk us around to the shops to show us what to buy. Beauxbatons was kind enough to send a list of supplies and we were able to order things to be sent directly to France."

"McGonagall showed you around?!"

"Yes, well, you had Hagrid. And Dumbledore was too busy; he had to rush to a meeting in the Ministry after tea at our home."

"You had Dumbledore to tea! After you got your letter and before you went to Beauxbatons? Did Madame Maxime come by for lunch as well?" Harry wouldn't admit, but he was jealous. How come Dumbledore went to her home and not his and Dumbledore had known even then he was the one who had to kill Voldemort? Why did Hermione get special treatment? Wasn't he Harry Bloody Potter?

Hermione seemed to know what he was thinking. She laughed and lightly slapped his arm. "You're jealous! You're jealous of me, Hermione Granger! Because Dumbledore didn't go to your house for tea!"

"Well, I'm sure Uncle Vernon wouldn't have let him into the house if he had come by."

"I never met your Uncle, for his sake I hope I never will, but I daresay I agree with you. Well then, since I know why you're jealous of me, guess why I may be jealous of you," teased Hermione.

"My sparkling wit and effervescent personality?" Harry teased in return.

Hermione imitated a bell ringing. "Brrring - brrring! You win! You're so witty and charming, especially at large formal gatherings when you're on display and surrounded by witches eager to break your reserve. Oh, you're always the belle of the ball!"

"I only feel comfortable in a small circle of friends. Surely you understand."

The teasing stopped and the air stilled. His green eyes bore into her brown ones.

"Yes," she answered.

****

"Mr Reilly! Wonderful to see you!"

"Miss Granger, a pleasure as always. What are you up to?"

"I was just speaking with one of the primary school teachers about the werewolf students. Fascinating how she works to stamp out any sort of discrimination from the start, whether it is against werewolves or Muggles or blood traitors. I mentioned some of the Muggle Social Psychology experiments in this field, and it turns out that she was actually doing a few herself without realising it."

"Goodness, the weather! What that a shiver? You must be cold; let's get out of this rain. Do you have time for a cup of tea?"

"Sounds perfect."

Hermione and Reilly soon found a small café nearby that wasn't too crowded with customers on the wet and windy day. They shook out their robes and Hermione placed her umbrella in the stand by the door. She hoped her hair wasn't so wet that it would drip on the table. As they sat down, Hermione noted that Reilly took the typical Auror spot of facing the door, and ensuring he did not have his back to any windows or doors.

"What'll you have?" asked the waitress gruffly.

Hermione and Reilly exchanged glances. "Tea," they said simultaneously. "Cream tea for me. Do you have clotted cream?"

"Of course!" The waitress seemed insulted by the query.

The two exchanged glances again. "Two, please," Reilly smiled at the waitress and Hermione swore he twinkled his eyes at will. The flirting appeared to have an effect as the waitress' shoulders relaxed, her features softened, and she stared into Reilly's eyes and blinked.

"Two cream teas then. They'll be here in a jiffy," the waitress responded. Her voice now had less of a harsh edge and more of a velvet smoothness. Hermione was amazed how quickly a fairly unattractive man could cause a witch to melt with just a glance.

Once the waitress was safely out of earshot, Hermione spoke. "You have quite a secret weapon there, Mr Reilly. Learn that in Auror training, did you?"

"Yes, wasn't mandatory but an elective. I did quite well." Reilly smiled.

"Yes, I'm not surprised. You're not trying that on me, are you?" Hermione fluttered her eyes in response.

Reilly knew what she was about, and slapped his knee and laughed. "I think someone could give me a lesson as well!"

"No, you're the expert. I'm following your lead. Now, your partner could do with some of your knowledge as well."

"Potter? He's all right. Just a bit shy around the ladies."

The tea was served before Hermione could respond. Once the flirting between Reilly and the waitress ended, Hermione could continue their own conversation.

"Harry? Shy? He's one of the rudest men I've met. He actually snubbed me at the Puddlemere gala. Refused to dance with me."

"Oh, that's Potter all right! He hates to dance. He hates those things, especially if you have to dress up and stand about looking smart. Especially if he feels on display."

"But he actually snubbed me. Me, personally, and I had only just met him. Would not dance with me, but then pulled the witch next to me onto the dance floor."

The twinkle fell out of Reilly's eyes. "Well now," he muttered as he took a sip of his tea. "That doesn't sound like him. And I've known Harry for years. We trained together for three years, and have been on assignments on and off, when he's not with Ron."

"Well, he's a good friend to the Weasleys. They adore him, I'll grant you that."

"Aye, he's the best friend Ron could ever have. Balances out Ron's personality."

"By being boring and aloof while Ron is happy and jovial?"

Reilly rolled his eyes at her. "He's really under your skin, isn't he? I mean, Harry is the head of reason for Ron. Ron tends to fall headlong into things. Well, Harry does as well, when it comes to protecting his friends. Most of the War was about that. Now, Harry takes that energy and makes sure Ron stays out of trouble with the ladies."

Something tightened in Hermione's gut. She knew this was critical. She switched from her casual conversation style to her information gathering, interview mode. She had to gain information now.

"Oh, really?" she said lazily, sipping her tea, casually bidding Reilly to continue.

"Oh, yes. I think it was in Singapore. Gorgeous petite little witch. Ron was smitten. Ready to do anything for her, transfer to the Singapore office even and start a family. Harry uncovered that she was a gold digger with ties to a former Death Eater."

"No!"

"Yes. And just now, in London. Harry stopped him from getting too serious with a lovely young witch who didn't return his affections."

"Really?" Hermione's voice was less casual now, with a hint of pain. She prayed Reilly didn't notice.

"Really."

"How … how could he tell that she wasn't interested?"

"I don't know the details, but that's how he is. Harry would do anything for his friends. One of the most loyal wizards I've ever met. Once you're on his good side, he'll go to the ends of the earth for you."

"And if you're on his bad side?"

"Oh! You have nothing to fear there! I can tell he has quite a liking to you. Well, he may have snubbed you early on. Maybe he thought you were snubbing one of his friends and that's how he responded, but now I can tell he's quite happy with you."

"Harry did tell me once that once he feels ill towards someone it's not possible to change his opinion."

"Maybe not impossible, but it would be quite difficult. He's quite stubborn at times, especially when it comes to his friends. But you're an example of change, aren't you? You might be even part of his inner circle now; I know you both meet each morning for walks. I tried to get Harry to stay in one morning, but he was quite adamant that he had to meet you there. Oh, is it a date then? I asked. He just glared at me and rushed out the door. I knew he was hooked then."

Hermione ignored whatever sort of innuendo Reilly was proposing. She focused on Harry breaking up Ron and Luna. She'd had a feeling he was involved and now it was confirmed.

Suddenly, she lost her appetite for the scones and clotted cream.

She wanted desperately to leave the table, to just go and try to sort out these thoughts in her head, but she couldn't be so obvious, could not raise any suspicions that Reilly's words would impact her so much. So, she stayed.

She changed the topic to her work. Reilly displayed genuine interest when Hermione discussed the changes the schools had undertaken for the couple of young werewolves there. Then she discussed how the employers of the older werewolves were accommodating as well, how a combination of social pressure and actual laws were used to both protect the non-werewolf inhabitants during the full moon, and to protect the werewolves from discrimination on a daily basis.

When she finished describing the werewolf registry system and dispensing of Wolfsbane at the local apothecary, the sun began to shine through the grey clouds.

"My goodness, how quickly the weather changes."

"Look at the time! I've an appointment at the apothecary in twenty minutes. I really must dash, but thanks for tea."

"No problem at all. It's always wonderful to see you. And I'm sure Harry will be seeing you tomorrow morning on the beach," Reilly teased.

Hell no, Hermione thought, but she smiled in return.

***

The next morning, Hermione stayed in bed. She refused to do her usual walk on the beach. Her body was accustomed to the habit of going out and getting some fresh air, however, so she finally got dressed and walked in the park instead.

Her body and mind felt out of sorts, not the least because she was not following her usual routine of walking along the beach and having a pleasant discussion with Harry. And she was still quite upset with the revelation (that she somehow already knew deep down inside) that Harry was instrumental to Luna's heartbreak. Damn him! She decided to focus on work instead. She had only a few more days in Appley, she was filling parchments with all the information she had gained in her work here, and was already planning which bits of information she could try on a wider scale, and which laws might be easiest for the Wizengamot to pass.

Deep in thought, she almost missed seeing the young wizard come racing towards her.

"Hermione! What happened? Why weren't you at the beach?" His words came between gasps for air.

Hermione smirked. "You're really quite out of shape for an Auror, Pilsner," she stressed his alias name, intentionally not using either his true or alias first name.

Harry's raised eyebrow noted the anger beneath her words. "Hermione, what is it? I had to find you. I had to speak to you today. We're leaving soon, and there's something I must tell you."

Hermione raised her eyebrow in turn as she stood with arms crossed quite severely. "Speak."

***

Harry spoke.

He was out of breath. The day began, scratch that, his day had begun the night before when he could not sleep because over and over in his mind turned over a revelation; a revelation so fantastic that he ended up pacing in his rooms thinking, This cannot be, and It cannot be true. But it was.

Harry's strengths were not in rationality and logic, but intuition and bravery, and loyalty. His gut dictated his actions. They served him well in battle, served him well as an Auror, and he was fortunate enough to have others like Dumbledore and Shacklebolt do the mental gymnastics for him. He made sure he had partners of strong mental acumen like Reilly. And where was Reilly now? Could Reilly help him?

By dawn, Harry was tired, anxious, and hyper from Pepper Up potion. He nearly raced to the beach to meet Hermione, arriving much earlier than usual. And he waited. And waited and waited and waited. She never appeared. Concerned, he ran to her room at the inn. Finding it vacant (once he had determined how to evade her wards), he used a seldom used spell to determine her whereabouts. A park, not more than a mile away. He dashed.

And there she was, walking quickly, deep in her own thoughts. His heart glowed just to see her. He was sure how he felt. He had to tell her.

He was so surprised to see her say "Speak" so abruptly, so coldly. What was wrong? What happened to their camaraderie?

Still, he spoke. He did not edit his words.

"Hermione, I … I can't stop how I feel about you. Gods know I've tried. It makes no sense-you're not my type at all…" Hermione's eyebrow raised. "Um, I mean I usually go for more sportier types, taller, thinner girls with long straight hair…" Hermione looked apoplectic. "-not that there's anything wrong with your hair. I quite like it now…" Harry was expecting smoke to come from her ears.

He decided to go for the direct approach. "I love you!" he cried in anguish, as he pulled at his raven hair. Hermione looked horrified, but still she said nothing. "I tried, I tried so hard to stop it, but I can't! I don't know why but I do! It makes no sense. You like the spotlight. You like dating celebrities-" Harry failed to notice Hermione opening her mouth to speak and continued, "-you have friends who are fan girls for Merlin's sake, who actively throw themselves on Quidditch players and are routinely seen pissed and shagged in the early morning hours all over Wizarding London…" Hermione gasped and once again, Harry continued, "-and the rumours about you! You were rumoured to have serviced the entire Bulgarian Quidditch team! And you have nooners with Viktor Krum at the Leaky Cauldron-" Hermione appeared to be reaching for her wand "-But I love you! I love you so much it hurts! I want to be with you! So, will you have me?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, then suddenly stopped, then started again. She walked in a tight circle, then faced Harry again.

"Putain de merd" murmured Hermione. "Vous êtes un idiot. Vous écume. Je vous haïr!
Imbécile! Tu veux pas te taire? C'est pas possible -- tu entends ce que tu nous racontes? Mais qu'est-ce que t'as, enfin? La gueule, p'tit con! "*

* (NOTE : ROUGH TRANSLATION) "Holy shit. You are an idiot. I hate you! Idiot! Can you stop talking? It is not possible -do you hear yourself? But what are you doing, then? Shut your mouth, little idiot!

Hermione's voice had risen, as Harry waited expectantly for Hermione to translate for him, waiting for her to jump into his arms and they could share a sweet lingering kiss. It was not to be. He moved closer to embrace her, but when she gasped and nearly pulled her wand on him, he thought better.

"Don't you dare come near me!" Her French accent was strong now. She seemed more comfortable swearing in a foreign language. "You beast! How dare you? How dare you say you love me, but how unsuitable I am for you! So unworthy! Why don't you say that you, the Boy-Who-Lived, deserves someone more beautiful, taller, with straight hair, instead of a bushy- haired, short-statured bookworm! Well, I'm sorry that you fell for me. I'm so very sorry for it and you can end your agony, because you're the last man on earth I'd ever fall in love with!"

Harry's face crashed. His elation, his certainty that she would reciprocate was dashed. There was no second meaning, no lack of directness in Hermione's words. She hated him.

"Why? But I love you?"

"You! What do you know about love? You saw love in front of you and did not believe it!"

"What do you mean? I've been up all night thinking about us. I do love you!"

"Not me, you idiot! Luna and Ron! You tore them apart! You're responsible for the heartbreak of a woman I love like a sister! Luna loved Ron. She still loves Ron! And I'm sure Ron loved Luna! You should know, you're supposed to be his best friend! But what did you do? You tore them apart! I bet he was about to propose to her after the ball, but you sent him away, didn't you?" Hermione paused and looked into his eyes. "You did, didn't you? You and Ginny?" His silence was affirmation, and Hermione was angry enough not to notice the guilt in his eyes. "Damn you both. Damn you to hell. Luna's still heartbroken. You destroyed her spirit. She's such a fragile girl. He was her first love, her only love. She's pined for him for years. And you destroyed her.

"And you actually believe the rumours about me? I thought after the time we spent together, you would be able to get to know me and make a decision for yourself instead of believing hateful rumours.

"Viktor is my friend. So are Parvati and Lavender. Yes, they are fangirls. Yes, they stay out late and like Quidditch players. But they have good hearts, and they are steadfast and loyal. They are supporting Luna also, and they accepted me, a strange French girl they knew nothing about, but if Luna said I was okay, that was fine with them, and they let me be friends with their friends, and I've enjoyed my time here in Britain so much. Until now.

"And do you even support my causes, or are you pretending to, for future political gain?" Harry raised an eyebrow at that pronouncement. "And you hate me! You snubbed me when we first met. I wasn't good enough for you, being Muggleborn. How dare I speak to the great Harry Potter? Harry bloody Potter, as far as I'm concerned. I bet Draco's been right about you all along."

"Draco is wrong," Harry finally spoke. His voice sounded strange: strangled, hoarse, deep, like someone in pain. "I'm not what you think."

"Well, I'm not what you think either. So you think you fell in love with me, but you don't know me at all. I'm sorry. I really liked Hank Pilsner. He's someone who seemed to understand me." Hermione sniffled. Surprised, she then noticed that her cheeks were moist. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. How dare she cry!

Harry stopped looking at her about halfway through her speech. His form seemed smaller and smaller with each of Hermione's pronouncements. For a moment, Hermione felt a stab of pity, but at that moment she forced herself to remember what he had done to Luna, and it quickly passed.

Harry took a breath, straightened his shoulders, and fixed his glasses. "Well, I think no more needs to be said. Goodbye. I'm sorry I troubled you."

Hermione blinked. It was all so sudden. She was used to prolonged debates. What was he doing? He wouldn't actually leave, would he?

And he did. He pulled his hair a bit. Looked at her with a sad, resigned face, said, "Goodbye," and disappeared.

Hermione let out her breath. Merde. What had just happened? Did Harry Potter really say that he loved her? When the hell did that happen? Merde! Hermione reached her hand to a nearby bench and slowly lowered herself onto it. Her legs were trembling. Harry Potter loved her! Well, not anymore, after what she said to him, and he deserved it, but why was she so upset? And why were tears streaming down her face?

Hermione doubled over on the park bench and sobbed.

***

Please review!

Next chapter: the Letter from Harry to Hermione, or "Harry has some explaining to do"

Translation note: an American friend who now lives in France provided the translation. He said it's slang, so it does not translate well in a computer translator. Hopefully it's not actually incredibly embarrassing information about our shared college years...

A/N: thanks for sticking with this story. Part One was tough for me to write (all the misperceptions) but there's more romance in Parts 2-4. Oh, and there's a total of about 19 chapters, in case you never read P&P and wondered where we are. More than halfway. But do read P&P or at least watch the movie. Jane Austen is a genius.

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