Unofficial Portkey Archive

Well, this gave me sooooo much trouble. I got stuck halfway through it and couldn't get out of the writer's block.

This part is a kind of sequel/companion fic to the last part, hence the title. Also, the next installement is almost ready so I might post it next week, at the latest.

Enjoy!

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Title: "the expected unexpected - ii"

Rating: PG-13

Words: 4,542

Characters/Pairings: Harry/Hermione

Theme/Prompt: #099 - open secret

Warnings/AN: hbp au. Somewhat of a second part to the last fic, chapter 99.

Summary: It's because of the canaries. In which Harry and Hermione realize that the greatest love is the one that is unexpected.

Disclaimer: The Usual.

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Preface II

Later, neither would know how to explain it.

Harry watches the canaries fly back to Hermione. He doesn't know what to say. A part of him wants to make excuses for Ron, his best friend, but another part refuses vehemently, claiming that Ron brought this upon himself.

Hermione's his best friend too and it's about time he took her side over Ron's. So, he settles for stating the truth.

"He's a git."

Unexpectedly, and shocking him to the core, Hermione throws her arms around him and kisses him passionately.

The canaries flutter their wings happily. And he kisses her back.

They don't know how long they were snogging in that classroom, but by the time they return to Gryffindor Tower the party's long over. They stumble their way through the portrait hole, among ardent kisses and wandering hands, and make their way to the closest flat surface.

They fall on the couch.

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ii.

Harry plays idly with her hair, revelling in its soft texture and marvellous smell. He sighs in content, pulling her more tightly into his embrace. She mumbles something unintelligible and shifts her position a little, fisting her hand around his jumper. His neck is cramping, but he's too happy lying on the couch provided by the Room of Requirement to do something about it; the fact that she's using him as a mattress and pillow doesn't really matter anymore.

Funny though, how last year he'd have never thought of being this way with Hermione, but then last year he'd had more pressing matter to attend to.

Having nothing better to do (he really doesn't want to wake her up, even though he knows he should as it's way past curfew), Harry lets his mind drift back to that moment when everything about his relationship with Hermione changed, and the glorious months that followed.

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It's been three weeks since the canary incident-since the KISS.

The SNOG, Harry corrects himself. It was definitely a snog.

And, even though he's been following Hermione while she does her Prefect rounds, only now he's gathered enough courage to confront her. About the kiss, and her subsequent desire to avoid him as if he had the plague.

Checking the Marauder's Map, Harry makes sure they're completely alone and with no possibilities of being interrupted before acting. Taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth to catch Hermione's attention-only to have a wand jabbing at his forehead.

"Ow!"

"Harry!"

His name comes out as a hiss, he doesn't know if it is because of her being angry or something else, although he prays it's not because of the anger. Hermione doesn't really give him time to react as she pulls her wand away and then yanks down the hood of his cloak rather forcefully.

Oh, oh.

She's glaring. And preparing to give him a piece of her mind when, suddenly, her eyes go wide and she starts to look around frantically. Seeing nothing, she once again sends a glare in his direction before grabbing a handful of his cloak, somewhere around his chest and drags him to the closest door. Which turns out to be a broom closet. The door slams close and the silence seems accentuated in the darkness.

Harry struggles to remain calm, but his instincts are screaming at him to run or, at the very least, beg for mercy. He thinks it would be best to be honest and hope for the best.

"Lumos."

Hermione's angry face becomes visible and he's left speechless; she's not glaring anymore, but the fire lighting up her eyes is entrancing enough to leave his mind blank.

"Hullo…"

So much for that.

Hermione takes a deep breath before focusing on him; better, let her be calm, that way she won't hex his bollocks off. "Harry, what…? Why were you following me, startling me like that? I could've hurt you, you know."

He opens his mouth to explain his need to follow her around, and also demand that she explain why she'd been avoiding him; only, his mouth seems hell bent on doing as it pleases. "I missed you." He thinks his statement is foolish, but it gets her attention, softening her features, so he presses on. "You've been avoiding me for weeks and-Hermione, I miss you."

He must look very pitiful or maybe there really is something going on between them or… something, because Hermione's hard demeanour crumbles and she's giving him a pained smile in return and clutching at his robes as she pushes against him and seems to mould herself to him.

"Harry… I miss you, too," she whispers, her face hidden in the crook of his neck.

And suddenly, it's the night of the party all over again, only the classroom is now a broom closet and Harry actually thinks he's anticipating what could happen, maybe he really wants it to happen-again, but he's not sure it's quite right at the time and… and as much as he enjoys the feeling of Hermione (all soft curves and warm embraces and tender smiles and unwavering loyalty and all that makes her-her) safely tucked into his arms, he knows they have to… straighten everything out first.

"We need to talk."

And if once those words would've scared him away, now he only nods in relief.

"Yeah, seems like it."

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Her rounds end by the seventh floor, right next to the Room of Requirements.

With Harry, who's carrying the Marauder's Map, she managed to finish this night's patrol rather quickly-going directly to the darkened corridors and broom closets with students in them, no need to do bed-checks when you can simply inspect the layout of each house' dormitories on the map.

Really, Hermione tells him she's actually entertaining the thought of letting him accompany her on every night she has Prefect's duty, just so she can be done earlier and especially avoid getting scarred for life what with all the things going on in those blasted broom closets.

Harry knows he would say yes, if she were to ask.

While Hermione paces in front of the wall, Harry makes sure they remain uninterrupted; he looks up when the sounds of the wall shifting to accommodate a wooden door reach his ears and notices Hermione looking quite pleased. When he turns to the map to end the spell, though, he stops and stares as the dot labelled Hermione J. Granger disappears in front of the wall. Alarmed, Harry looks up to see Hermione at the other side of the threshold, gazing back at him inquiringly.

"Are you coming, Harry?"

He blinks a few times, looks at the map again and tries to make sense of what he is seeing. "I-er… Hermione, you… you disappeared from the map."

She frowns, and steps through the door again, this time heading his way, and her dot reappears. "Let me see…"

"You're here again."

Hermione huffs a little, sending him a warning glance. "Harry, honestly, Professor Lupin explained to us how the map worked. One does not suddenly disappear and reappears on it. The magic involved in the map's creation is much too-"

"Wait."

She shuts up, eyes him warily as he moves past her and stands two steps away from the door, motioning for her to follow his lead. Sighing tiredly (Harry hopes it's because of the late hour and not him), Hermione moves to stand at his side.

"Okay," he says. "I want you to go in there again, walking backwards, so you can see what I mean about you disappearing from the map."

Hermione opens her mouth as though to protest, but shakes her head and eventually does as he asks. She spins around and starts walking backwards, Harry lifts the map so she can see her dot moving-and then she freezes just as she steps through the door.

"Oh!"

She takes a step forward, her eyebrows rise, another step back and her eyes go wide, forward and her mouth is hanging open, a final step back and she staring at him in disbelief. "What… what?"

Harry shrugs and moves into the Room, closing the door behind him. The map is still functioning, but the seventh floor's corridor, where the wall to the Room of Requirements is located, is now empty and with no signs of doorway or hidden passages.

"The Room of Requirements is not detailed on the Map. Why?"

He frowns and while he has many guesses as to why the Map is not detecting the RoR, none of them sound to convincing right now. Still, Hermione expects an answer from him, so he picks the more plausible guess. "Maybe, the Marauders didn't know of the Room's existence."

Something nags him, though, like a little whiny voice trying to get his attention, all the way from the back of his mind, but as soon as Hermione grabs his hand to lead him further into the room it banishes.

Harry thinks there will be time to revisit the nagging little voice, later.

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Hermione had requested a replica of the Gryffindor's common room, although smaller and more, well, intimate.

At least that's how Harry feels it.

They are sitting in front of the fireplace, on a cosy loveseat and timidly (really, it is kind of pointless as their previous romantic encounter had been rather steamy) holding hands; they avoid much eye contact as each time one or the other, or both, end up with blushed cheeks.

Hermione had been very thorough in her explanation for acting as she had the night the kissed. ("I saw the beginning of something between you and Ginny this past summer. So I decided to move on, you see. So I decided to try pursuing Ron. He's always fancied me, I know, so I thought he would do. After all, I-what I felt for you, I thought it'd pass. I mean, before, I didn't give up because you never had anything in common with Cho and I knew that was one relationship doomed to fail. So I figured I still had a chance, if only I could make you see me as a girl… But then you started fancying Ginny, and you have so much in common with her, that I just-I just gave up. And focused on Ron, and you saw how that turned out. I mean, honestly! The nerve of him to-to snog Lavender like that! And after all the trouble I had gone to invite him to Slughorn's party. I felt so humiliated, Harry! And when you came after me, I was so relived and happy and I just couldn't stop thinking that giving up on you was a mistake, because I know if you'd been in Ron's shoes you wouldn't have gone and snogged the first girl throwing herself in your arms. You're not like that, and that is something I admire because, Harry, you could have any girl you wanted. So… so when you called Ron a git, I… I couldn't help myself. That's the first time you've taken my side over Ron's and I was so happy and-oh, Harry, I'm so sorry for jumping on you like that, but I really couldn't help myself.") And then she had started playing with the hem of her jumper, clearly nervous about his response, that he had done what he thought best.

He grabbed her hand, entwined their fingers, and said: "I kissed you back." And it'd been enough, because he had kissed her back, and initiated a lot more kisses after they stumbled onto the couch later that same night. He had initiated much more than kissing on that couch, come to think of it. So, yeah, maybe he should've said something more reassuring, should've professed his growing feelings for her, but he'd never been good at it, talking-somehow he always ended up saying the wrong thing, and this was Hermione, she would understand.

And she does.

Neither have said anything after his last words; Harry knows Hermione is thinking about how to proceed and he, well, he is struggling to think before acting. As it is, he's having a lot of trouble controlling his impulse to lean over and kiss her again, but they need to talk first… and whatever happens later…

"Hmm… What now?"

Hermione reddens slightly, fumbles with her words a bit, and then turns to face him. "Harry, you're my best friend, and I-I care about you a great deal. I don't want to endanger our friendship, it is one of my most precious possessions, but I do want to see if… if we could be more."

Harry smiles at her and pulls at their entwined hand to draw her into a hug. He buries his face in the crooks of her neck and inhales deeply. "I feel the same, Hermione. I want to try at whatever this is, but I don't want to do something to mess it up and lose because of it. You're… you are the most important person in my life, Hermione." He moves back a little, enough to look her in the eyes before speaking again. "I think… I think we should give this, this thing between you and me, a go. See where it goes, one day at a time. As long as we promise not to let it ruin our friendship if we were to… end it."

Hermione bit her lip, staring past his shoulder with a thoughtful look on her face, and then her eyes clear and she smiles at him-that tender smile she reserves for him only, and that has been absent since he acquired the Prince's book.

Oops, there's something else they need to discuss.

"I'd like that, Harry."

But maybe later.

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They move along with this new relationship slowly, regardless of how it started. It's for the best, they think; that first kiss (snog) had been a reaction of suppressed feelings and hormones, this-the hand-holding, the smiles, the gentle kisses that are not necessarily on the lips, the shared looks, everything is about them exploring a new level of their long-established relationship.

It is all done in secret, mostly. They still share secretive smiles and looks that conveyed more that many words, the usual light touches they used to exchange increase in number and frequency, and they can even get away with holding hands, but only very briefly, after all, they are best friends, so of course they will hold hands sometimes.

It's all done in secret because Harry thinks the world should, for once, mind its own business and let him enjoy a part of his life without broadcasting it before he got to fully experience it. He wants this part of his life to be his, doesn't want to see his picture and Hermione's on the Prophet's front page with an unsavoury story. No, this is one thing he's not willing to share just yet. Hermione complains, however, but eventually relents and agrees to Harry's request. They will keep it a secret, and maybe it's best that way, it will keep the gossip at bay-at least for now.

The Prince's Book is discussed much later, mainly because Harry doesn't know how to bring up the subject without it going downhill; he waits until after they come back from Christmas break. In fact, neither broaches the subject until they're on their first date on Valentine's.

Although, the term "date" is not accurate, because Ron tags along, and they don't make anything official. But they do manage to slip away undetected once Hermione says something about needing to buy some books and Harry latches onto that, saying something about needing some books too. Ron leaves pretty quickly after that, saying he'll catch up with them later.

So, that's how they end up walking through bookshelves, not really seeing anything but waiting to have enough privacy to talk (and hopefully, Harry thinks, to snog). Finally at the back of the store, they stop and Hermione turns to look at him with concern.

The words he's been meaning to tell her get stuck in his throat, so he simply reaches into the pocket of his robes and pulls out the Prince's book. Hermione stares at it as he sets it on the shelf next to them and pushes it in her direction.

"I didn't expect-I never wanted this to cause a rift between us," he says, watching Hermione going through the pages of the book. "But it did, and even though now we're okay, I… I want you to have it and, I don't know, apologize. I guess."

Hermione closes the book, a contemplative look on her face, and then she glances at him nervously. "I should be the one apologizing, Harry. I acted out of line over this book, but it's just…"

He closes the small distance between them and slips his arms around her waist, bringing her body close and trying to reassure her with his embrace. "It's fine, Hermione." She tries to protest, he knows, he can see the fight building in her eyes, but he stops her. Kissing her lips softly. "Let's just say you were having a bad year, yeah? I was having a bad one, too, last year and you didn't give up on me, so… I wasn't going to give up on you."

She smiles softly, which prompted him to grin, but before Harry can claim her lips once again, the sound of footsteps approaching makes them move apart and pretend to be engrossed with the books on the shelves. Some girls from Ravenclaw stop at the end of the aisle, stare at him, turn to giggle among themselves and then leave. He sighs relieved before turning around, intent on finishing this conversation with Hermione so they can do something more date-related, but the words get stuck in his throat.

"Uhm…"

Hermione gives him a coy smile, but the intense look on her face sends shivers down his spine and makes his mind go blank. Her eyes speak of promises-wonderful, wonderful promises and… bloody hell?

"Still think the girls whisper about Quidditch?"

Her smile turns into a sultry smirk, an expression he honestly never thought he'd see on Hermione's face, but one that leaves him all hot and bothered. His face lights up with an intense blush and as he watches her close the distance between them, Harry wonders where has Hermione been hiding this side of her these last few years. Because, bloody hell, if the Yule Ball had been an eye-opener, this-this would most certainly place Hermione among the most desired girls in Hogwarts.

But as soon as her arms wrap around his waist, the vixen disappears and a much more appealing sight replaces it: his Hermione-bossy, bookish, and endearingly shy when it comes to romance.

"I, uh… All good, then?" he ask, picking up the conclusion of their talk.

She nods and kisses his lips lightly. "Perfect."

"Brilliant."

They do manage to make the most of their "date". They steal a few kisses while in the bookshop and Harry thanks their luck at not getting caught because he's soon realizing how very easy is to lose himself in Hermione-her warmth, her scent, her lips… They even manage to hold hands once they meet Ron at the Three Broomsticks; the place is packed with students and teachers alike so it's ridiculously easy to make an excuse to touch her or grab her hand. Ron's still trying to come to terms at being the one ending the relationship with Lavender, so he's easily distracted and often wondering aloud if he should "take her back".

All things considered, it is a good first date.

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The soft touch of lips moving over his jaw brings him back from memory lane and Harry finds himself staring into a pair of chocolate-brown eyes.

"Hullo," he says.

This prompts a smile from her, beautiful and happy. "Welcome back. Did you enjoy your trip?"

For several seconds, he is thoroughly confused by her words. What trip? He hasn't gone anywhere, and was about to tell her as such but then he catches on. And smiles. "Well, it was quite pleasant, so yes."

Hermione hums softly, kissing her way to his lips. "It's late. We should head back to Gryffindor Tower."

He threads his finger through her hair and engages her into a deep, sensuous kiss. Harry can feel her begin to surrender to the kiss, but then Hermione groans a little and pulls back, sliding off him and to her feet.

"Seriously, Harry. It's way past curfew. We need to go now, and we need to be careful."

Heaving a sigh, Harry stands up as well. "I have my Cloak."

"And the Map?"

"Er…"

Hermione sighs affectionately and pats his cheek. "See? Now let's go."

Harry unfolds his Cloak, shakes it once, and then motions Hermione to step closer. He grins, because now that they're older, bigger, the Cloak in a tight fit, in fact, Hermione has to be pressed against him for it to cover them completely. It's nice, really nice. And he's about to comment on that when he catches Hermione's eyes, she rolls them while trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

His grin widens, because, of course she knows what's going through his mind.

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The funeral has finally come to an end.

Harry sits under the shadow of a tree overlooking the Black Lake. His mind going numb as it revisits the lasts few days, and he wonders… where it all went wrong?

One moment he is actually learning something useful about Voldemort, about how to defeat him, and enjoying his relationship with Hermione and the present semester, and the next… the next moment he's going on a dangerous quest with Headmaster Dumbledore that actually ends up with…

"God…"

Everything is different now. With Dumbledore gone, Voldemort will not waste time in subtlety or elaborated plans to lure him out of Hogwarts; he will most likely… Hogwarts isn't safe anymore, he knows this much.

And with the quest adding weight to his already overloaded shoulders-he's not safe, no one around him is; no one who's befriended him is.

Harry buried his finger into his wild hair and fists his hand, resisting the urge to pull hard. "God…"

"Harry?"

Slowly, he lifts his head from his knees and turns pained eyes towards Hermione, he stares. He remembers her embrace the night Dumbledore died, her attempts at sharing his pain and not let him wallow in guilt. Her soothing whispers as he clutched her body, pressing her against him to try and assure himself of her safety. He remembers her pained sobs as Dumbledore's tomb was sealed shut, and yet, she was more concerned about his suffering than her own sorrow.

"Oh, Harry…"

Hermione closes the remaining distance between them and wraps her arms around his waist, valiantly supressing her tears, he knows. She's the most wonderful person to ever be part of his life, and from now on, she'll be a greater target because of him.

Resolute in doing the noble thing, Harry allows himself one last moment of this-of Hermione's warmth and love, and then he's pulling away, the words tumbling out of his lips. "Hermione, I… I think-"

"You want to break up with me," she says, stating his thoughts as simply as possible.

However unnerved he is by that, he doesn't show it and sadly nods his head instead.

"Well, too bad, because I don't want to."

But, unsurprisingly, not even this could be easy for him.

It takes him a few seconds, but by the time he processes her words, the panic is rising up within him. "Hermione, I don't think you understand."

"Oh, I understand perfectly, Harry."

"No! Dumbledore's dead! Snape betrayed him. There's nothing preventing Voldemort from coming after me now, from hurting those I love, I-I don't want him coming after you. Hermione, I don't want this happening to you, I don't… want to stand at your funeral," he says, his voice dropping as he reaches the end. "At least not until you're old and have had a chance to live your life to the fullest."

Unfortunately, if he thought his speech had changed her mind, he is grossly disappointed.

"And you think I want to stand at your funeral next? That I don't want you to live your life as well? Harry…" she says, grabbing his hands to prevent any further retreat. "I'm not letting you push me away in a misguided attempt to protect me."

"It's not misguided. He'll know you are my girlfriend now, Snape and Malfoy will tell him and then he'll… he'll hurt you just to get me, I-Hermione, I don't want you to be a target." He closes his eyes and the image of the Headmaster falling off the Astronomy tower flashes by, and then he's doing his utmost best to stop his imagination from switching the old man with the girl standing in front of him now.

But Hermione will have none of his excuses, though. "Are you listening to yourself? I'm already a target, Harry. I've probably been one since First Year," she says, stressing out her words. "I'm your best friend and that's been common knowledge around the Wizarding World since Fourth Year. Not only that, but in case you've forgotten, I'm also muggleborn. Those two things alone make me one of the primary targets, being or not being your girlfriend won't change that. So why are you letting him rule this part of your life as well? Why are you letting Voldemort take what little happiness you have now?"

"I…"

Well, he… had somehow forgotten that small, little detail of Hermione being his friend first, and muggleborn too. And that little fact leaves his speechless.

Hermione, of course, take advantage of this. "Harry, this noble side of you, while endearing, is also very frustrating. But your saving-people-thing is mostly part of the Boy Who Lived, and Harry, if I had wanted to date the celebrity I would've told you so. I didn't. I don't."

Harry blinks at her, slowly, his mind going over her words and revelling in the sensation of some of the pain going away. Hermione moves in again, hugging him tightly, and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

"I only ever want to be with my best friend Harry, so please, stop being noble and tell me what our mission is going to be. I want to be prepared for anything."

He let his doubt go and returned her embrace, pulling as closer to him as possible. And it suddenly dawns on him that, had his girlfriend been anyone else, they would've probably let him go, thinking he wanted to be the hero (when in reality, all he wants is take Hermione and run, run, run to a place where Voldemort can't find them-a place where she'll be safe).

But not Hermione, no. Of course she'd cling to him with everything she has, being loyal to the very end.

Is it any wonder why he loves her?

"Horcruxes," he says at last. "Our mission is to find Voldemort's Horcruxes."

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Finis.

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Well, that's it with this hbp-au!verse of mine. `Till next time.

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