Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: Hello! Thank you to those of you who stuck around with me, I appreciate it :) Here is chapter 3. Enjoy.

The Librarian

Chapter Three: Luna Lovegood

"Professor, I'm so sorry to bother you, but -"

"No, no, don't worry," McGonagall told Hermione, gesturing for her to take a seat.

"Thank you," Hermione said breathlessly. "I - and this isn't a criticism, but - I heard that you… that you appointed a new teacher?"

She couldn't bring herself to say his name aloud.

McGonagall nodded. "Ah, yes, I should have seen this coming now…. Have a cup of tea, won't you?"

"Er, right. Thanks." Hermione sipped the offered tea unsteadily. Her hands were shaking.

"Potter's told me about your situation. I didn't know of this - you see, I haven't read the Prophet in years, not after all the shenanigans that paper has pulled before. But as I told him, I assume you two are mature enough to be on civil terms while you're colleagues."

"He didn't give any details, did he?" Hermione asked nervously over the top of her cup. Small swirls of steam were swirling towards her face, giving her an even more flushed look.

"No, and I do not wish to know the details. I'm far too old to get involved with matters like these," McGonagall assured her. "However, Miss Granger, I must say that given what he's said about you, I'm surprised that you two aren't speaking."

Hermione froze. "W-What?"

"He told me to not think poorly of you… not that I would ever think poorly of you in the first place, you are one of the brightest students to walk through this school's doors," she said casually, shrugging her shoulders and taking a sip of her own tea. She smacked her lips together and then continued, "And he said - in few words - that if your situation got too severe, that I should fire him, and not you."

Hermione blinked.

"Well, he's always been the noble one," Hermione said coldly.

At one point in her life she admired his nobility, was even attracted to it. She had loved the way he'd desired to put others before himself.

But now, it was annoying and unbearable, and she couldn't stand that about him. Even now he was trying to make her look like the bad one... There was Harry, gracefully taking the job position and being so goddamn noble, meanwhile Hermione was the one rushing to the Headmistress, practically demanding an explanation for his appointment.

"Ah, yes, well…." McGonagall said awkwardly. She took another sip. "I will assume that you two will be civil and well-behaved?"

She hesitated. "Yes. I think I should be going." Hermione stood up.

"So soon? Well… alright then…. Goodbye, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, standing up as well and gesturing softly to the door.

. . . . .

Harry woke with a start, shaking and muttering incoherently. He sat up and felt around for his glasses. His knuckles met his nightstand and he cursed, grabbing his glasses and sliding them right on. His new living quarters came slowly into view. He shook his head and wiped cold sweat from his forehead.

He had to relive Hermione's departure in his dream.

The pain he suffered was not because of the way she had screamed at him, or threatened him with her wand that made him so shaky. It was that look on her face. He'd never forget that look.

She looked hurt.

It was a pain that not even the Cruciatus curse could reach. She was crying, and every shake of her head had meant that there was nothing he could do. That look on her face was a ghost that was now imprinted in his mind forever. He and Ron had made her the third wheel of their trio all through Hogwarts. She'd made it very clear that she had felt this way for a long time, and that she felt like all she was there for was to do their homework.

But Harry never thought that… sure, she had helped him with loads of homework assignments, and maybe he asked for her assistance with Auror reports - but she had agreed, somewhat begrudgingly, to help him most of the time, he had never really forced her to do anything, had he? But Harry did remember, now that he thought about it, that she always looked rather hesitant and upset when he'd asked for her help.

"How much do I mean to you, Harry?" were the last words she'd said to him, in a shaky, trembling voice.

And Harry made a stammered reply: "You're - you're my friend! You -"

But she'd left.

And the guilt that she'd left him with weighed down on his shoulders as he stood up and got ready for the day. God, what he would give just to see her…. Every time he thought about her, he tried to play a potential conversation in his mind, a way he could charm her back into their friendship. But he didn't know what he would say to her. Perhaps he'd tell her first off that he wanted her back as one of his best friends; that he wanted to be able to talk to her whenever he felt like it. And they could make jokes about Filch and the retired Madam Pince. And then maybe he would tell her that his life was dramatically different - for the worse - without her. And then he'd say that he hadn't realized what he had until it left him.

Harry stumbled out of his living quarters after showering - which was connected to his office through a passageway - and began to walk down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He had set this door to be password-protected, much like how Dumbledore had protected his office. His hands balled into fists. Harry felt that after the war, there was no reason to not be cautious and take extra steps for security. Every time he stopped by Teddy and Andromeda's house, he always double-checked the security charms.

The day before at Hogwarts had been full of gaping stares and questions about how he'd defeated You-Know-Who by the younger students, and it had worn him out.

The rest of the week went by smoothly. There were less eager-looking students, and the buzz about Harry Potter being the new teacher had died down. His lessons were strictly practical that week, even with the younger grade levels. Apparently his talk with the fifth year Carly was spread throughout the school, and he did not hear any more remarks about Hermione.

Yet she was still present in his mind….

. . . . .

It was a long week.

Hermione walked into the Three Broomsticks on a Saturday afternoon. There were the usual stares and murmurs, but now that she was looking for her best friend here, it didn't seem as bad…. And besides, she'd gotten her new job already, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it.

She'd written to Luna - one of the few people in the world who did not judge Hermione from her departure from the "Golden Trio" - because she desperately needed some sort of escapism from what was going on at Hogwarts: Harry was working there, and she had yet to wrap her head around it.

Luna was still friendly with Ron and Harry as well, and she did not place the blame on anyone. Hermione still felt guilty, to that day, of ever being mean to Luna in the past. Her lack of judging people was what made her a truly beautiful person.

The room was filled with warmth and the sweet smell of butterbeer. There was a cheery aura about the air that made Hermione grin. She remembered going here during her trips to Hogsmeade in her Hogwarts years….

"Hermione!" Luna shrieked from a booth, waving her hand more eagerly than was usually acceptable in public. Her radish earrings were swinging from her ears because of her excessive greeting, and her hair was tied up into a messy bun at the top of her head.

"Hello, Luna," Hermione said breathlessly, slipping into the booth and sitting herself comfortably across from her friend. "Thanks so much for showing up."

"Oh, it was nothing," Luna said dreamily. Her bright eyes were scanning the room before they landed on Hermione again. "I was going to go fishing with daddy, but I asked him if we could change the trip to tomorrow because I told him that Hermione needed a friend."

"Oh, thank you, you didn't have to do that," Hermione said guiltily. She brushed a few pieces of hair from her face and coughed.

"I ordered a butterbeer for myself; I wasn't sure what you wanted. Their menu is quite bland, don't you think?"

"Well, I -"

But Hermione was spared having to answer, because Madam Rosmerta put a butterbeer in front of Luna and then looked expectantly at Hermione.

"I'll have Firewhiskey, please," Hermione said at once, without thinking. "The strongest you've got."

Luna looked at her with eyes wider than usual as Madam Rosmerta left. "Hermione, you've only had that once before!" she exclaimed.

Hermione did not question how Luna knew just how many times that she had had Firewhiskey.

"Firewhiskey and a best friend is what I need right now," Hermione explained with a sigh. "Anyway, Luna, how've you been?"

"Oh, I've been quite alright, thank you," Luna said. She tilted her head sideways and looked curiously at Hermione. "But please don't try to act interested in how I've been when you're obviously very upset about Harry working at Hogwarts."

Hermione swallowed hard. "I - Luna, I mean, I - that's beside the point. He's -"

"-annoying you just by being in the same building," Luna finished. "Personally, I don't think you should let it get to you."

"Well, I've been trying to ignore it," Hermione said indignantly. It was true. She had been desperately trying to ignore his presence there.

Madam Rosmerta came by and placed a glass in front of her. She remembered how Ron always quite obviously fancied her. Hermione grabbed it and took a huge gulp of the Firewhiskey. It burned the back of her throat. That familiar sense of courage was creeping onto her senses and was replacing her shakiness with strength.

"But I constantly hear about him. 'Professor Potter this' and 'Professor Potter that'. It's not even so much the fact that he's famous anymore… everyone just loves his teaching methods. One student said that he's starting to teach some of them how to Stun, far before the age when any of us mastered it."

"Well, Harry is a great teacher," Luna pointed out. "Remember when he led the D.A.?"

"Yes, yes, I remember," Hermione said briskly, waving her hand. One of the reasons she loved him was his leadership. She took another large gulp of her Firewhiskey. God, this was just what she needed.

"You know, Harry also drinks Firewhiskey," Luna said conversationally with a shrug.

"And as an adult, he is allowed to."

Luna leaned over the table and said, "Well, he drinks it alone. Ron's told me about it. Even Harry told me, when I visited him for lunch at the Ministry a few months ago. I think he just gets really sad, you know, now that Ginny left him and you're not talking to him. And he hasn't had the most pleasant life, has he? He looks upset all the time. I try to help him, because that's what friends do. I even asked him to go on a fishing trip with me and daddy. I feel bad for Harry sometimes. It's all quite sad."

Luna leaned back into her normal sitting position and looked curiously at everyone else in the room. Hermione looked down at her own glass of Firewhiskey. The courage that this beverage had given her was now ebbing away. She furrowed her brow. A part of her - the part that was buried beneath the illusion of happiness that she'd been putting on for years - wanted to run over to Harry and slap him for being so stupid, and then hug him to console him.

Harry was depressed? Well, he'd never been a particularly happy person in the first place, and Hermione always tried to help him in that respect. Even if he wasn't an alcoholic, it was still upsetting to hear that he had to turn to Firewhiskey for comfort… and she knew, from what Luna said, that she was part of the reason that he did this.

"Are you sure about this, Luna?" she asked softly.

"Of course. I've even seen him after he drinks. Once he showed up at my house, looking like a mess. Ron was out in Albania, tracking down some Dark wizards, and he needed a friend…. Oh, it's awful! It's sad to see best friends so upset." Luna looked back at Hermione. "I can tell that you still care about him, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head. "If he wants to be that way, then so be it," she said quietly.

Hermione waved her wand and used it to lift the glass of Firewhiskey, and it swirled lazily in midair. She watched the liquid contents flow with the rhythm of her flicking wrist. Her hand began to shake. She never knew that she was part of the reason Harry was becoming accustomed to going to this drink for comfort. And now she felt guilty, and she hated herself for it, because Harry was supposed to be the one who should've felt guilty.

Yet Hermione's guilt didn't extend to consistently grabbing a Firewhiskey to numb her pain….

"Ginny left him?" Hermione asked. Her voice sounded very distant.

"Oh, yes," Luna said sadly. "Ginny went to play on the Holyhead Harpies, and it involves a lot of travel. She left to play on the team even when Harry said that he wanted to stay put for Teddy's sake. She preferred Quidditch over Harry. Personally, I think Harry is more valuable than most wizarding sports."

Hermione did not say anything for a few moments. She kept watching the swirling glass of Firewhiskey. Whatever she had been expecting from this meet up with Luna, this was not it. Hermione thought that she'd probably feel proud of Ginny for taking a stand against Harry as well… but she couldn't bring herself to feel that way. Quite honestly, she was angry at Ginny. She was just being whiny, really. Ginny wasn't used for years on end as a homework helper and know-it-all, like Hermione was. Ginny wasn't the third wheel in a trio involving Harry. Ginny wasn't in the background of the attention. Ginny wasn't shoved aside when she wasn't needed.

"Has he dated anyone else since then?" Hermione asked stupidly in a near whisper.

"Not that I know of, which is odd, because he is very handsome, you know." Luna paused as Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Oh, Hermione, do you still have feelings for him?"

"Shh!"

Hermione sighed and buried her face in her hands. It was painful to hear the words aloud. Feelings for him. Those feelings were what kept her sitting here, feeling like shit and wanting to kill Ginny and having a burning desire to run away forever.

She loved Harry.

And Harry was unattainable. Even though he was now single, and worked in the same building as her, he felt even more unattainable than ever.

She tried to remind herself that he had been checking her out at the Yule Ball in their fourth year - come on, his jaw wasn't dropping because he thought she was ugly - but clearly whatever attraction had lasted in those few seconds meant nothing, even though Hermione had fallen asleep that night smiling (despite Ron being an arse) because Harry had looked at her in the way every girl wanted to be looked at.

No, Harry was not attracted to her. She was just that plain, simple, bookworm that always had the answers. And when she wasn't needed, it was just Harry and Ron. She was the third wheel. Hermione was the one to yell at them for their rule-breaking, and they always got frustrated, but really, someone had to put them in their place!

She had accepted Harry's out-of-control temper and inability to think things through, but couldn't he accept her need to follow rules?

How had he not known that she had feelings for him? It was so blatantly obvious. He was just so dim-witted. No wonder he needed a bookworm to follow him around. Hermione deserved better… whether she wanted better, however, was the question that had been haunting her for years.

And God, not to mention Ron…. She'd dated him because she had developed a liking for Ron, after all, he was very protective of her and tried his best to make peace with her after he left her and Harry in that tent. But Ron could never make her happy. He was always picking fights with her. He never cared to know why she loved books so much, he despised books, and he reminded her of that daily. Ron putting her down was not a relationship.

She was stupid, stupid, stupid. If she was keeping herself out of Harry's life, then Ron was so far gone from her life that it was almost laughable. If anything, Harry had treated her with more respect than Ron ever had. Hermione's Hogwarts years were stained with memories of Ron constantly picking on her because of her obsession with books.

And now she was a librarian. Oh, Ron would love that…. She could imagine him laughing at this. Still, after all these years, whenever she did something that had a bookworm or know-it-all nature, she could hear Ron's voice mocking her and not hear Harry say anything… he'd stood aside and let it happen, and only got involved when it bothered him because he was annoyed with their bickering, not annoyed that Ron was killing her inside.

"Well, do you?" Luna repeated, snapping Hermione from her thoughts.

Hermione bit her lip. Of course she still had feelings for Harry. If she could control who she loved, she'd be sitting here with a respectable, knowledgeable man who saw more to her than just her infatuation with books, and she wouldn't be sitting across from her friend, on the verge of tears because the man she loved did not love her back.

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded.

"Oh, Hermione!" Luna squealed. She leaned over the table and awkwardly gave her a one-armed hug. "Oh, I knew it! I just knew it!" She pulled back from her friend. There were tears shining in Luna's bright eyes.

"Luna, what -?"

"I get quite sad sometimes, you know," Luna said, sniffing, "because you don't ever talk to Harry anymore. It's like… it's like a broken family, I think. Harry has always wanted a family. He really misses you. He misses you so much, Hermione…."

Hermione had never seen Luna genuinely upset before. It broke her heart to see her best friend like this. "Luna, he doesn't miss me," Hermione choked out. "It's alright. It's for the best."

Luna shook her head and wiped the tears that had begun to fall from her eyes. Even her radish earrings seemed to just hang uselessly there.

"I don't think it's for the best," she noted quietly. "Oh, please talk to him, Hermione, please!"

"I'm sorry, Luna, but I can't," Hermione said in a strained voice. "What's done is done."

She flicked her wand upward and her glass of Firewhiskey fell slowly and gracefully back down to the table where it sat snugly in front of Hermione. She took a small sip of it and felt the burning sensation scorch her throat.

Luna nodded. "Well… can you promise me one thing?"

Hermione looked into Luna's bright, hopefully eyes and sighed. "Sure, Luna."

"Promise me that you won't hex him if you see him, like last time. He really didn't like that, you know."

It would have been funny if the expression on Luna's face wasn't so serious. She looked genuinely concerned for Harry's safety at this point….

"Alright," Hermione agreed. "I know that it was a pretty nasty of me to do that, but honestly, I didn't mean to hurt him that much, he took me by surprise and I didn't know who it was! You know how I get after… after what happened."

By "what happened" she meant the war. Hermione was never the same; she'd become extremely cautious of her surroundings. The war had shaken her.

"But I promise I won't hurt him… that is, if he won't hurt me. Physically, anyway. He's done enough emotional damage."

"He would never physically hurt you!" Luna cried out.

True. That was true. Neither Harry nor Ron had ever raised a hand to her.

Hermione stared at her glass of Firewhiskey that was resting on the table that separated her and Luna. It was hard to imagine Harry breaking down and drinking away his worries. She had always seen him as the strongest one of the trio, the one to go through hell and back and still manage to stand up straight and live to tell the tale. He was just this constant, this strong young man who'd always been the one to overcome obstacles and make sacrifices.

And there was always that saving-people-thing.

"You don't think any less of me, Luna, do you?" Hermione asked weakly.

"Of course not, Hermione," Luna said. She shook her head and her radish earrings dangled. "You're one of my best friends! Friends don't think bad things about each other."

Hermione nodded slowly and smiled. "Thank you," she said in a low voice.

"How are your parents?" Luna asked out of the blue. "I would like to meet them one day, you know."

"Oh, they're -" Hermione paused. "They're doing well, as far as I know. I haven't seen them since Easter."

"Are they still upset?"

"Well, things have been getting better since I told them I left Harry. I haven't told them that I've quit my job at the Ministry to be a librarian. It might kill them. They've always wanted me to take advantage of my education and huge job opportunities and to not put anyone else forward," Hermione said. "They just… they don't understand that some things are worth more than books and an education and money."

"Like saving the world."

"Like saving the world," Hermione repeated. "I could never shut up about Harry, you know…." She paused, almost ready to laugh at the memory. "Harry this and Harry that. I think they always feared that I'd give up everything for him. And I did. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and a hell of a lot of determination when I agreed to help Harry."

"Well, he never really asked for your help, did he?" Luna observed. "He always wanted to be on his own."

"Yes," Hermione said slowly with a feeling of dread coursing through her, "he never asked for my help. But honestly Luna, I loved the man, would I let him face Voldemort by himself? Never in a million years would I let that happen. And he knew that I cared about him and that I'd be there for him. He's not stupid. You know that I'd drop everything for him if he were in trouble. Even now, if he was in danger or in trouble, or - or something, I'd be there for him. But he doesn't need me now. This is for the best."

Luna stared at her. "But Hermione… I think that he is in trouble."

Hermione sighed. She was starting to feel guilty again, and the guilt would consume her if this continued any longer. She glared at her glass of Firewhiskey.

"Luna… I'm not being ridiculous, or overreacting, am I?" she asked desperately, her voice shaking. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Knowing that Harry was in a sad state was making her rethink everything. She thought that he would be fine her leaving… he didn't love her back, right?

"I don't think you're being ridiculous," Luna said, although coming from her, it somehow wasn't much of a reassurance. "I think that you just love him and think that he doesn't love you back, so you left."

"I know that he doesn't love me back," Hermione said. She gripped her glass of Firewhiskey tightly and stared at it, refusing to face her best friend.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw that Luna was shaking her head.

"Oh God, Luna, what should I do?" Hermione asked helplessly.

It was a sign of how desperate she was for advice that she was turning to Luna Lovegood for it. Then again, Luna was her only friend. Hermione felt like that pathetic first year again, feeling lonelier than ever, running off to the toilets in tears. But that time, Harry had saved her. Hermione would never ever forget that look in his gorgeous eyes when he ran into the room, looking for her… he had looked genuinely scared, scared that he'd lose her….

Luna lazily took a sip of her butterbeer and stared down at her own knees. Hermione watched her expectantly with a sense of urgency about her.

"Do what you think is right, Hermione," Luna said simply, grabbing her glass of butterbeer and taking another sip.

"That's it?"

Luna nodded. "It will all work out in the end," she said confidently.

Hermione took one huge gulp of her Firewhiskey, desperate for the burning sensation that was now tingling the back of her throat.

"I've been avoiding him for three years and now we're both working at Hogwarts, and I'm a mess - " Hermione pointed to herself for effect, " - and he's amess, and I love him, Luna, and I don't know what the hell to do, but it'll all work out in the end?"

Luna nodded again. She looked rather bored as she tapped her fingers on the table between them. "Things always have a way of working out in the end. You'll see."

Hermione took another sip of her Firewhiskey. It was half empty now.

. . .

The following Monday, Hermione decided to take a nice, quiet walk throughout the school. She needed to clear her head. Everything was getting to her and she was more irritable than ever. She'd snapped at a first year for dropping a book by accident. That was a sign that she needed to get out for a bit.

She'd fancied a breath of fresh air. It was raining outside, and so she had to cope with taking a stroll under the school's roof. Only the sixth and seventh years had time off now - it was their break time - and so she felt that it was the right time to leave the library for a little bit, while everyone else was stuck in classes.

It had been over a week since she'd talked to Luna, and still her mind was racing with what to do. She had always been a quick thinker, but this time, she was clueless. Hermione loved her job. She knew that she was fully qualified to be more than a school librarian, but after all the troubles that Harry and Ron had caused her, she felt that a quiet life was now worth living. Students were generally nice to her, especially when they compared her to Madam Pince. Of course there were the ones who held a grudge against her for destroying the trio, but petty teenagers would not get in her way. She could certainly handle any criticisms now as an adult, especially since all her Hogwarts years were filled with her dealing with being talked down to as a stuffy know-it-all by teenagers…. Hermione loved books and knowledge and magic, and nobody was going to rid her of that. If taking a stand to Harry and Ron's condescending ways and ignorance towards the fact that she had feelings meant that she was to be shunned by teenagers and their stuffy parents, then so be it.

She could live amongst the bookshelves, then, where they did not ridicule her, and beg her to help them their bloody essays and their stupid homework, and constantly put her down.

But now Hermione was away from her sanctuary, trying to take a nice stroll down the corridors. There were still students about - sixth and seventh years had the same idea as her and spent their time during their break walking the corridors - and Peeves messing around, which somewhat ruined her peaceful walk, but all in all it was quite nice.

She'd strategically timed her walk so that classes were going on…. Surely Harry would have a class to teach right now. Of course, there was the chance that his break was the same as the sixth or seventh years, if he normally taught them at this time, but she was doubtful. She'd been avoiding him for practically two weeks now! Hermione should have received an award for this sort of stealth.

When she turned the corner, however, all she thought was that she really just wanted a nice, quiet walk down the corridors, and this was not the way she'd planned her day.

Harry was there.

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