Unofficial Portkey Archive

The Librarian

Chapter Five: The Password

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione's head snapped up at the sound of her name. Professor McGonagall was walking up towards her with a nervous look on her face. Hermione looked a little worse for wear… her eyes were red and a little puffy from her unexpected half-conversation with Harry the night before.

She had been putting returned books back in their normal places, but clearly whatever McGonagall was going to tell her would become a priority of hers.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked eagerly, her eyes widening.

"Have you seen Potter?"

"Er, do you mean today?" She was immediately reminded of last night.

"Yes, today," McGonagall said impatiently. "Have you seen him?"

"No," Hermione said simply. She coughed and scanned the shelf before her and put another book back until realizing, a moment later, that she put it in the completely wrong place.

"He hasn't shown up for his class this morning," McGonagall said, "and I think he's in his living quarters, but he's password-protected it. It's very Moody-like of him, to do that."

"Oh." The arm holding the pile of books was shaking.

"Could you help me get him out of his quarters?" McGonagall asked. "He's got a lesson with seventh years next, after break, and he can't miss two lessons. I swear, whatever's going on, he's -"

"I wish I could help, Professor," Hermione said weakly, "but I'm a little busy right now." She gestured to the pile of books in her hand. "Can't you have someone else h-help out?"

"I wouldn't have gone out of my way to ask for your help if I didn't need your help," the Headmistress says. "You told me that you wouldn't let anything get in your way about whatever has been going on between you and Potter. You're the only person who could probably lure him out of his quarters."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, well… alright." She agreed to this only because she felt like her job was in danger if she refused her boss; it still felt strange to refer to McGonagall as her boss. She put the pile of books down on a nearby table and followed the Headmistress out of the library.

Hermione was certainly not ready to meet the cause of her crying the night before. Harry telling her that she meant a lot to him somehow made her love him and hate him even more. Those were words that she'd been dying to hear for years, yet hearing them last night sounded too unreal. Hermione knew him well enough to realize that any time Harry said that he cared about someone; it really did mean something, as Harry was never the best at showing his feelings… however she had an inkling of doubt that was nagging her and telling her that he was just making it up to be on civil terms with her…. But certainly he cared enough to make that effort, if he wanted to be on civil terms with her?

Hermione had done as she'd told him: she'd used her time to think things through. She wasn't sure when she'd ever be done thinking about this situation, though. It seemed like a vicious cycle all on its own.

"Here we are," McGonagall said when they finally were within his office and facing the door to his living quarters.

His office had a few random things lying about the floor and on his desk… one would not have thought that this office belonged to the famous Harry Potter. Either he hadn't planned on a prolonged stay, or had not bothered to impose his personality into the room. Hermione wondered if he'd decorate it with Dark magic detectors like the imposter Moody had done. It seemed like he would do something like that. Then she inwardly scorned herself for thinking this, as though she actually cared about him decorating a stupid room.

McGonagall knocked on the door. "Potter!" she called out. There was no response at all. "See what I mean?"

What was going on? Was he just sleeping in? Or was he in such a wreck that he simply could not answer the door? A chilling thought coursed through Hermione as she remembered what Luna had told her back in the Three Broomsticks.

"Harry!" Hermione said, slamming on the door with her fist so hard that it caused a lot of pain. But she didn't care at this point. "Harry, for crying out loud, answer the door, you insufferable jerk!" Her fists pounded on the door over and over again and she was close to tears. Her frustration was pouring out into this stupid, defenseless door. Harry would not answer. No matter what she did, he wouldn't answer. And there was no use in trying to figure out the password, it was probably something ridiculous that nobody would guess… that was the point of passwords in the first place, was it not?

"Harry, it's me," she cried weakly, "it's Hermione."

Then suddenly the door opened and her heart raced. Her hands were shaking. Behind her, McGonagall gasped.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione couldn't help but say as tears were brought to her eyes. Her name was the password. Her name was that ridiculous password that nobody would guess…. Oh God, Harry, that insufferable jerk. Would she ever stop falling for this man?

His living quarters certainly had more of his personality than his office had: it was a bloody mess, to be frank. Clearly he hadn't bothered to clean up after himself. Typical. There was a distinct smell of alcohol in the air, and her racing heart dropped to her feet. Perhaps the alcohol represented him more than the messiness at this point. Had he been distraught from their confrontation more than she had been? It seemed highly unlikely. She'd literally run out of tears long into the morning….

Hermione saw him. He was crumpled on the floor next to his own vomit with an empty glass of Firewhiskey in his hand. He was still wearing the same clothes that he wore the day before. Harry's glasses were lopsided on the bridge of his nose. His chest rose and fell with his steady breathing. He looked childish, despite holding alcohol in his hand. Harry looking at peace like this was odd.

"Oh Lord - Oh God, I didn't know it was like this, Oh God -" McGonagall whispered from behind her.

"Harry, wake up, you useless lump," Hermione choked out impatiently. She nudged his leg with her foot. "Harry! Christ, get up!"

She just wanted this over and done with. She wanted to leave this room forever and erase this scene from her mind, although she highly doubted that this heartbreaking image would leave her memory any time soon. Hermione felt a chill creep up her spine and give her goose bumps just by looking at him in this state. She waved her wand with a shaky hand and the mess beside him was instantly gone. But it didn't make him look much better. His lips were moving silently and his cheeks were flushed. His eyebrows pulled together. Hermione had seen this look on his face before when he was sleeping, and while she was sure that there was no longer pain in his scar, she was still aware of the signs when he was being disturbed in his sleep.

How long had he been like this? She knew, according to Luna, that this was not a habit. This was just a side effect of what he was going through, then. It killed her. Hermione hadn't known… she didn't know he was like this. It was a reflection of what she'd done to him. She did this. Hermione may as well have put the glasses of Firewhiskey to his lips. She was tearing him apart by leaving him.

No, Harry was not a drunk - Thank Merlin for that, she thought - but who knew what would happen in a few more years? Hermione felt tears sting her eyes and she blinked quickly. Harry was her one weakness; he always would be.

"I didn't know that it was this bad - I mean, I knew something was wrong when I hired him, but this… this is beyond what I imagined. He can't teach children in this state…." McGonagall said breathlessly behind her.

"I know he can't," Hermione said angrily.

She was mad at him for giving up like this, for numbing his pain and not manning up. She was angry at the world for letting this happen. Then she turned to Harry.

"Oi, get up!" Hermione shouted this time, actually kicking his limp leg.

He needed to get his act together. It hurt her to see him like this. It seemed like something from an alternate universe… surely this wasn't the Harry she'd grown up with, the man she'd fallen in love with?

"Wha -?" Harry said in a groggy voice, opening his eyes and rolling onto his back. "What's - what time is it?"

"Let's just say it's late. You missed your first lesson of the day," Hermione scolded sharply.

She gingerly knelt down beside him. Harry turned to look at her and his eyes widened. He grabbed the side of his head.

"Hermione?" he said in a disbelieving voice. "What the - what are you doing here?" He sat up.

Hermione pulled the empty glass away from his shaking hand. "McGonagall asked me to help you get your act together."

"Sorry." His voice was a low and rough, and Hermione wanted to shout at him again for how awful he looked.

"You're a coward," Hermione spat. She leaned forward and straightened out his glasses. The tips of her fingers grazed the skin of his forehead and Harry squinted.

There was a long and painful silence during which Harry looked down at where his vomit had been. He didn't look Hermione in the eye for a few minutes and she wondered if he was going to shout at her for criticizing him.

But instead of looking angry at her, he just quietly said, "I know."

"I'll be in my office," McGonagall whispered to Hermione. Even the Headmistress knew that this was a private moment; however, a part of Hermione wanted to be the one to leave. McGonagall straightened up. "Potter, I have to say that I am beyond disappointed in you. I want to speak to you in my office when you're finished talking with Miss Granger. Miss Granger, will you cover for Potter's class? I daresay he's unfit to teach -"

"Professor!" Hermione said desperately. "I - I don't have any lessons planned, I -"

"It will be added to your pay," McGonagall said lowly. "All of the other teachers have classes then, there's nobody else."

"But -" Hermione began.

"I can teach!" Harry said proudly. "I'm not drunk!"

"No, you're hung over. Seventh years will be able to tell, and they'll send letters to their parents. We can't have that." McGonagall turned to Hermione. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger," she said. She sounded sorry. She then turned to Harry and said, "I will be questioning whether or not you'll continue to teach here, Potter. I can't have any of my teachers passing out and missing classes."

Her voice was harsh and left Harry looking extremely guilty long after she'd left and slammed the door shut behind her.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry mumbled to the floor. He winced. "Won't happen again -"

"I never want to see you with another glass of Firewhiskey ever again, Harry James Potter," Hermione scolded. Her voice was shaking. "I mean it. Look at you, you're pathetic."

"Hermione -"

"Luna told me that you got like this once in a while, but I didn't want to believe it…." she explained, cutting him off. Hermione had a hard look in his eyes that was surely burning Harry to the core right about now. "Harry, do you realize that you have a godson? What kind of godfather are you?"

"I know, I'm sorry, I -"

Hermione continued, breathing stiffly through her nose, "Sirius used to smell like alcohol all the time, do you remember that? And don't pretend that it didn't bother you."

Harry finally looked up at her. She thought that he'd tell her that she'd gone too far, that she had no right to talk about Sirius. But instead there was a sad look in his eyes that made her wish that he'd yelled at her instead. Then he sat up and grabbed chunks of his hair as though he wanted to pull the strands from his scalp. His knuckles turned white and she could see I must not tell lies inscribed permanently on the back of his hand in his own handwriting. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of what brought on that torture.

"You're right. I'm sorry," he muttered in a near whisper. "It just… hurts."

"What hurts?"

"Everything," he complained lowly. His eyebrows furrowed together as though a very disturbing thought was haunting him at that very moment. A disturbing thought was haunting Hermione as well. "Everyone left me…. Ron, Luna, Andromeda, and Teddy are the only people who give a shit about me."

Hermione shivered at hearing her ex's name aloud. She remained silent; she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. Harry curled into a fetal position. Did he really think that Hermione didn't care about him? Hermione cared about him too much; that was part of what made her leave. She could not bear to be in his life if she couldn't have him and to know how much he had hurt her.

"I'm alone," he continued softly. "You and Ginny were right to leave me, though, you know. I don't deserve either of you… especially you, Hermione. I don't know how you could've put up with me for all those years. I mean, just look at me." He gestured to himself. "Look at what I've turned into. I'm a pathetic excuse for a human being."

Hermione looked down at her knees and nervously bit her bottom lip. She sat down beside him. She gently pushed a lock of hair away from his face, and sad, bright green eyes stared at her.

"You may be pathetic right now, Harry, but you're not a pathetic excuse for a human being -"

"I am a pathetic excuse for a human being!" he shouted. His hands balled into fists. "Ever since you left I've been a mess, and I'm just wasting away…. I - I spend my nights drinking until Ron comes in and calls me pathetic, just like you did, but I always go back weeks later…. Because I'm always thinking about you, Hermione, and it hurts because I know that you'll never really come back, maybe we'll be on civil terms if I'm lucky, but we'll never have what we had before -"

"You're not thinking clearly," Hermione stammered. "You've been drinking."

"I haven't been drinking… I've just been making all of this crazy shit come to an end," he said proudly, grabbing more chunks of his hair impatiently and slowly rocking back and forth. His eyes were wide and unfocused. His voice lowered and he said, "After our, er, conversation, I ran off last night and went to the Three Broomsticks and got some extra glasses of Firewhiskey and just passed out right here…. I dream about it you all the time… I always relive your departure…."

"Harry, please," she begged breathlessly. She did not want to hear his recollections of how he had suffered, he was being cowardly about it all and he needed to stop…. Hermione had suffered more; her heart was crumbled into a million pieces. But still she could not truly find it in her heart to call him a coward. Harry was falling apart and it was partially because of her. "Stop talking. You - you need rest. I should get you to the Hospital Wing."

"I don't need the Hospital Wing." He shook his head and ruffled his hair. She loved when he did that. "I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

Always the noble one.

"God, Harry," Hermione said with a sigh. She stared at him and then leaned against the wall behind Harry. Her eyes were closing of their own accord; she'd barely gotten any sleep the night before. "You've changed so much."

"In a bad way?" he asked childishly, even though they both knew the answer.

She hesitated and Harry stared at the floor again. He began to pick at loose threads in the carpet as though this was more interesting than any word she'd ever utter. Hermione was reminded of the malnourished, naïve eleven-year-old boy she met on the Hogwarts Express. There was a painful look on his face as he anticipated her response. Hermione had seen that look on his face too many times in his life.

"Yes," she whispered.

"You're different, too, you know," he retorted quietly. Harry looked back up at her and followed her lead, leaning on the wall as well but keeping several feet between them, but it looked like it pained him to keep this distance. He bit his bottom lip and rubbed the back of his neck. He dropped his gaze. "You're not the Hermione that I became friends with."

"Am I different? Well, I certainly look the same… I still look like the Hermione you became friends with, you know, the insufferable know-it-all and nagging bookworm." She pointed to her striped sweater and plain skirt that fell to her knees. "I'm not changing who I am for anyone."

"I didn't want you to change -"

"I guess I act differently, though," Hermione observed casually as though talking about the weather. She was surprised at her own ability to remain calm in this situation, next to a Harry who was hung over and sitting in his living quarters. "I'm a little more cold to people sometimes… less willing to trust others… I mean, I haven't even been with a man since Ron, and Luna's my only friend…. But seeing as how the people who I trusted treated me, you can't blame me, can you?"

"Hermione -"

"No, Harry," she spat shakily. She was desperate to change the subject. "And - and why did you password protect your living quarters, anyway? McGonagall was nearly about to have a heart attack. You might even get fired now. Who do you think is going to go after you?"

"Nobody in particular. I just like taking precautions…" he said. Hermione, surprisingly, could sympathize with this. She also sometimes was a little nervous about things. Maybe she'd add an extra locking charm on her door, or double-check everything before she went to bed. Sometimes she'd just lie awake in her bed, listening out for noises like she did in that tent over six years ago. "I guess you figured out the password, then?"

Tears were stinging in Hermione's eyes. The fact that her name was the password was keeping her here next to him. "Yes. I said 'It's me, Hermione' and the door opened…."

Harry nodded. Somehow he now looked much, much older in this moment, as though he wasn't in his twenties but was a wise, old man curiously watching his surroundings. His eyebrows were furrowed and he appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. Hermione was only too familiar of what being trapped in one's own mind could do to a person.

She felt a tear slide down her right cheek.

"Why?"

Why not 'Ginny'? Or 'Teddy'? Why 'Hermione'? What made her so bloody special? What made her so important to the tortured man in front of her? Hermione knew that he did not love her, he could never possibly reciprocate the feelings that she had for him.

"I wasn't lying when I said that you meant a lot to me," he said. Harry looked at the wall opposite of him, but it seemed like he was seeing more than just a wall. There was a distant and empty look in his eyes as though he were escaping where they were right now, remembering awful things….

"Harry -"

"You mean so much to me, Hermione. I wish I told you that before you left," he continued. Harry turned around and so that he was facing her. "I'm not very good with words…."

"I know you aren't."

"Then why the hell do you expect me to tell you, all the time, how much you mean to me?"

"I never expected you to tell me all the time -" Hermione paused, catching her breath and recovering. She, like Harry, got carried away when she got angry. Her temper was nothing near his, but it could do its damage when it wanted to. The evidence of that damage was right in front of her. "I've said this several times to you before I left, and I'll say it again: I've been used. I'm just some kind of disposable resource - I have feelings, you know, and I think everyone seems to disregard that. I gave up everything for you… the rest of my education, my life, my parents -"

"I never asked you to - to drop everything for me! I never demanded that you fuck up your parents' minds!"

Hermione froze. Being reminded of how her parents were a bit cold to her now was one of the worst feelings in the world. No, Harry didn't ask for her to do that, but she had to do it - they knew too much about Harry, because she'd messed up by telling them all about him.

Her parents never really did approve of Harry. Their daughter was running off on life-threatening adventures with him, making her mother send worrying letters all the time during her Hogwarts years and her father be so curious as to why she was best friends with a teenage boy. And to him, teenage boys were possibly the root of all evil.

She'd tried to explain, after returning their memories back to normal, that Voldemort's wrath was something beyond what Muggles could possibly understand. But they could still not believe that she'd betray them… not only did she shove them aside, but she gave up her education! She skipped a year of school to "run off" with two teenage boys that couldn't seem to understand that she had feelings. They were disappointed.

"They're - they're alright, aren't they?" Harry asked softly. Clearly he'd seen the look on Hermione's face when he'd touched a nerve. He leaned towards her and she found that she couldn't back away from him. "You were able to reverse the Charm?"

"Their memories are back to normal, yes," she said. She furrowed her brows and looked down at her hands that were resting in her lap. "They're just…." She sighed. "They're different now. We don't get along like we used to. They were disappointed in me that I'd give up everything to help you."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione… but, really, I wish you hadn't modified their memories," Harry told her. He shook his head. "You shouldn't have done that. I never asked you to do it."

"It needed to be done," she said stiffly. "They knew too much about you. I could never shut up about you, really…." Hermione almost smiled. "They were in danger and I needed to protect them. I would've done anything to help you… and I did."

"I know you did, and I owe you so much. I wouldn't be alive right now if it weren't for you. You've saved my ass a million times..." He paused. "Maybe I could talk to them?" Harry offered.

"No!" she shrieked. She let out a breath. "I mean… no, thank you," she said, recovering and speak more calmly this time. "That would only make it worse. Frankly, they hate you. You talking to them will do nothing."

Harry hung his head with a guilty look on his face.

It seemed unreal to be talking to Harry after three years of constantly avoiding him. But this conversation was sucking the poison right out of her soul; this peace was replacing a fraction of the hurt and anger that had been bottling up inside of her.

Hermione would start to actually sob if she stayed here. She could not longer bear it. She didn't want to be friends with Harry, she wanted to mean more to him, she wanted him to love her… but he didn't…. And instead of demanding him to love her as so much more than a friend, she left. At the time she thought it was for the best, but she could see now that it just tore everything apart. All of this was becoming less of Harry's fault and more of hers… for the brightest witch of her age, Hermione felt incredibly stupid….

"Look, I'm sorry," Harry said desperately. "I don't know how many times you want me to say it. I'm sorry for making you feel like you were the third wheel. You never should have felt that way, because, well, you mean the world to me, Hermione."

"As a friend?" she asked in a choked off voice. She closed her eyes.

"Of course as a friend, Hermione. I want us to be friends again -"

"I have to go," she said suddenly, getting to her feet.

"Wha -? What did I say?"

"I don't think that we should be friends," Hermione whispered.

"Can't we talk this out? Look, please, Hermione, I don't know what I said that's making you leave, but I'm sorry -"

"It's not you," she said, close to tears at this point. "Or at least, not this time. It's me. I'm the one causing this. I don't know why you don't hate me right now. I'm so stupid…."

"I could never hate you!" Harry exclaimed, bemused. "And you're not stupid, Hermione, you're the smartest person I know!"

"Look, it's like I said, it's not you," she told him stiffly. "I'm sorry for hexing you that one time. You caught me by surprise. I didn't mean it. Honest."

"That's alright."

"I should be going now. I need to prepare for your next class." Hermione stood up and flattened out her sweater. It felt odd to be talking to Harry so formally. Somehow, it bothered her more than not talking to him at all. "Remember what I said before. I don't want to see another glass of Firewhiskey in your hands."

She stepped over a mound of unwashed clothes and approached the door.

"Hermione -"

"You know where to find me," she said to her broken, old friend.

Hermione didn't need to add "if you're in trouble" or "if you need some help", because it didn't need to be said. That was something that she and Harry had always had: a wordless connection. She knew that Harry understood what she meant in those six words. He needed to know that she did care about him. To imagine Harry thinking that she hated him was unbearable. But she deserved it. Whatever bitterness he felt towards her, she definitely deserved it.

He looked at her with a surprised look on his face. Surprised that she was holding out a hand. Surprised that she cared, that if he needed her, she'd be there and he knew where to find her. He was speechless.

"Good bye, Harry," she said quietly. Hermione stepped through the doorway and closed the door softly behind her.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

-->