Calm Before the Storm

Hello everyone! This is the second installment to my trilogy that I don't have an official title for at the moment. This is the sequel to “The Potter Vs. Granger Rivalry.” I delivered, as promised! I said two weeks, and I got it out in one! Actually, I wrote the entire thing last night—was up until 5:30 this morning, haha. Well, I hope you all enjoy this. It's actually a longer chapter than I was planning. Also, you may or may not notice that I didn't go into every detail about everything…I just glazed over some stuff, just so it wouldn't drag on!

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except Cliffinshire

Enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE: Breaking the Habit

This vacation's useless
These white pills aren't kind
I've given a lot of thought on this 13-hour drive
I miss the grinding concrete where we sat past 8 or 9

And slowly finished laughing in the glow of our headlights
I've given a lot of thought to the nights we use to have
The days have come and gone
Our lives went by so fast

I faintly remember breathing on your bedroom floor
Where I laid and told you, but you swore you loved me more

Do you care if I don't know what to say
Will you sleep tonight or will you think of me
Will I shake this off pretend it's all okay
That there's someone out there who feels just like me
There is

“There Is” BOX CAR RACER

* * *

Harry took a long drag, and inhaled the terrible taste he had yet to grow accustom to—a disgusting assault of tobacco and poison. The taste and smell were offensive to his senses. The knowledge of their poison offensive to his brain. The pseudo-facts that the stick between his fingers relieves stress well understood.

So why was he being so stupid? What made him, on a whim, ask for a pack of these while purchasing a soda two days ago?

Harry flipped his phone open and checked the main screen. No missed calls. No missed messages.

Nothing.

He flipped the phone shut and took a deeper drag.

He'd been home from Hogwarts for a week now. He had made sure Hermione had her own cell phone the day they came back into the Muggle world. He wanted to be able to contact her at all times, and she him. Hermione had been busy this last week with her family, and her communication hadn't exactly been instantaneous. Harry understood, and he wasn't expecting her to be, but would it kill her to just shoot him a text to let him know everything is fine on her end?

Since the attack on her a few weeks ago, Harry had been completely on edge. While Hermione insisted that she was okay, Harry still felt shaken and knew she did too. But Hermione was strong—stronger than him. She pushed through. She put the attack behind her to focus on her N.E.W.T.S. She disclosed everything to Dumbledore—went through every detail she could remember of the terrors she had been bewitched with. All fabrications. All fucked up fabrications.

With one single truth.

The Dark Lord had returned.

Harry leaned against the column on the porch and inhaled again, the fiery tip of his cigarette glowing brighter with his drag in the darkness. The air was humid and sticky. Beads of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. He wished for even a whisper of a breeze in the night air, but his hopes were unanswered as his mind rewound the last few weeks.

Dumbledore looked at the small group gathered in his office with grave eyes. His solemn demeanor did nothing to ease the apprehension in the air. Harry knew—or had an educated guess—that the somber man was about to confirm his fears.

Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly. McGonagall. Flitwick. Sirius. Hermione. Kingsley Shacklebolt from the Ministry. Alastor Moody, well-known Auror. A few others that Harry either didn't know or only knew by appearance. A small group gathered in his study. Harry noticed the obvious absence of Professor Snape. “I have gathered you all here to disclose terrible news. It has been confirmed that…Lord Voldemort has returned.” His voice was soft, tired. The man looked as if he had aged twenty years.

Harry let out a cough as he choked on the smoke somewhere between his lungs and throat.

Everyone in the room let out a gasp in unison.

“Headmaster—how can you be sure?”

“What news is this?”

“You-Know-Who?!”

“What do you mean, `returned?'”

Questions started all at once, but the Headmaster held up a hand to silence them. “It has been confirmed—a trusted spy has seen him with his own eyes. It doesn't matter how we know of this, what we need to discuss, is our response. I move to reestablish the Order of the Phoenix. We are going to need to be united. He has already called upon his loyal band of followers he had broken out of Azkaban yesterday. We must act quickly.” Dumbledore urged them, his eyes a fierce blue Harry had never seen before.

“You do know your mother will kill you if she sees that in your hand, Potter?” A voice spoke behind Harry, clear disapproval in his godfather's voice.

In response, Harry took another hit.

“Would you care to enlighten me why you are killing your lungs?” The older man asked, coming up to stand beside his godson.

Harry didn't look over at the man he had known his whole life. Instead, he flipped his phone open again to see if he had missed any alert—anything at all.

Sirius understood the movement too well. Harry had his phone out every five minutes, checking and double checking. “She's safe.” He reassured Harry in a gentle voice.

“I know.” Harry replied. “I just wish she would tell me every so often. She has me so stressed out I can't think straight.” He admitted, staring out at the dark yard before him.

He was at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place in London—Sirius's other home. It was currently being used as Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix—an organized group founded by Dumbledore during the first war against Voldemort that actively moved against the Dark Lord. Upon his revival, the Order had been reconstituted at once. Four floors and uplottable, as well as enchanted with many charms including a Fidelius Charm by Dumbledore himself, it was ideal for Headquarters. Dumbledore had to tell a person the exact location of the property for them to even be able to see it. For the Order, it was a safe house.

Members of the Order came and went at all hours of the day. Meetings and exchanges of information were ongoing. If Harry hadn't been so worried about his girlfriend, he would have perhaps enjoyed being kept in the loop.

Instead, he didn't sit in at every meeting. He preferred to hide in the shadows. His story—the truth of Voldemort's first fall—had been circulating around the Wizarding world as of late. First, to the members of the Order that were in the dark, then to the Minister of Magic in a “confidential” conversation with the Dumbledore that had somehow gotten leaked. Harry felt like eyes followed him everywhere he went, gawking. The scrutiny of their looks made him uncomfortable, and the only reason he hung around was to make sure he didn't miss anything that might involve Hermione.

Sirius sighed, as if he could see the wheels turning in Harry's head by the brooding expression on his face. “She is being watched. She asked for two weeks, Harry. Two weeks to reconnect with her family.” Sirius reminded him. “Your mother hates me, you do realize that, don't you?” Sirius added matter-of-factly. “She blames me for your plans. I don't blame her. I think it's a bad idea.”

Harry shrugged. “It's not. It's actually a pretty good one.”

“When I said I thought it would be a nice vacation to stay at my beach house for a few weeks, I meant it would have been a good idea if these dangers weren't present.” Sirius told him for the tenth time.

“I'm not going to let him run my life, Sirius. I'm not going to just stop living. I need a break—I don't think that's asking too much. Just a few weeks.” Harry argued. “Besides…it was your idea. You can't back out of it now. And no one needs to worry, I'll keep her safe.” Harry reminded him.

Sirius gave a sad smile. “I don't think it's her your mother is too worried about.”

Harry didn't reply for a moment before saying slowly, “And I'll keep myself safe too.”

“It's easy for you to say that, when you don't—no you can't—comprehend the true dangers that lie ahead. You weren't around during the first war. You have no idea how dangerous he is, or how powerful. You are no match against him, or his Death Eaters. Learning in school is one thing…you know your way around Defense Against the Dark Arts, I'll give you that. But actually defending yourself in a real-life situation…no class can prepare you for that.” Sirius warned, hoping to sway Harry's decision.

Harry nodded his understanding. “I know. And I can see where you are coming from—as well as Mum and Dad. But I'm an adult. I'm not going to let some Dark Lord run my decisions, and I'm done letting my parents run them too. I've been a good boy for eighteen years now. I've played by everyone's rules. I've never stepped out of line—except with minor stuff at Hogwarts that was never exactly forbidden. Overall, I'd say I've lived by their wishes. Now I want to start integrating some of my own decisions in, you know? Isn't that part of growing up?” He asked, telling Sirius the words that have been weighing on his mind. He wasn't independent—he knew that. He appreciated what his parents have done and still do for him. At the same time, he needed to grow up a little, and his parents needed to trust him.

Harry smashed the tip of his cigarette against the iron rail in front of him before flicking it in the yard. He had his wand out and the small butt vanished before it even touched the ground.

“Vanishing cigarette butts in the dark…now you're ready to face Voldemort himself.” Sirius said cynically.

Harry turned to face his godfather with a grin and clapped his hand on his shoulders. “I'm not a kid. I wish you guys would have a little more faith in me. We'll be safe. The last thing I want to do is put her in a situation where she can get hurt. If I think it's too dangerous, we'll come back here, and you guys can bubble wrap us in boxes and stow us in the cellar for safety.” Harry promised.

Sirius rolled his eyes at his godson's cheeky remark. “You also know you better not get her pregnant. Then your mother will be after your head, and Voldemort will look like a canary against the sort of anger your mother can bring.”

Harry grinned. “No one is getting pregnant. It's not like that. We aren't even having sex.” Harry reassured him.

Sirius nodded mockingly. “Yes, I'm sure. That doesn't mean you won't. Trust me, I was your age once. I know what goes on in your head. I'm not going to give you the talk about how you need to not have sex and blah blah blah. Lily and James can have that one. I'm just going to say…be safe. Be smart. And be ready. And most importantly—make sure she is. Don't be a regret.”

Harry listened to Sirius words, a little embarrassment tainting his cool demeanor. He gave a mischievous smile, but said nothing to Sirius's knowing grin.

“So are you going to tell me why you are trying to kill yourself?” He asked as Harry pulled out another cigarette.

“I'm not trying to kill myself. I've got my quit date set. I hate these. They're disgusting. I just need something to calm my nerves. Sunday night, I'll be smoke-free and you can toss them in the rubbish bin yourself.” Harry said with a shrug.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You think it will be that easy to quit? And you do know they don't really relieve stress, right?”

Harry took a long drag. “I know. I've built my own little illusion, but so far, I've been relatively calm. Believe it or not, I'm not addicted. Maybe too much repulsion. Maybe it's because I hear Hermione telling me off every time I take a hit. Who knows?” Harry asked vaguely.

“And what do you tell this Hermione in your mind?”

Harry laughed. “I tell her to piss off and answer her phone more often, then maybe she wouldn't drive me to such extremes.”

Sirius chuckled, but didn't say another word about Harry's new habit. That's something Harry always loved about his godfather. His mum was his mum, his dad was his dad, and that left Sirius to be a mixture between a father-figure and a friend—the best kind of confidant. He knew he could tell Sirius anything, and if he didn't want his parents to know about it, then his parents wouldn't know about it. And Sirius has never tried bossing him around and telling him what to do. He offered sound advice, he was never shy about his opinion, and used warnings to guide Harry, not command him. He let Harry make his own mistakes because he understood that no one else gave Harry that privilege.

“Did I miss anything?” Harry asked, his eyes glancing back towards the door leading into the house. He could hear laughter coming from kitchen.

Sirius shook his head. “Nothing really. Routine check-ins. He's flying under the radar, and the Minister is still being a dumbass about it all. Never met a more flighty wizard in my life. Can't make up his mind to support Dumbledore or go against him.” Sirius said with a scoff. “Had no problem running his mouth about you though, did he?”

Harry shrugged. The Minister wasn't in his good books by any means. He unconsciously checked his phone again. As he was about to shove it in his pocket, Sirius reached over and took it from him. “Oh bloody hell, Potter, stop being a pansy.” He pushed the SEND button once, saw that Hermione was his last call, and pressed it again. He lifted the phone to his ear and took a step back as he drew his wand against Harry, who had just pulled out his own. “Hermione? Hello, dear, how are you this evening?” He paused and waited for a reply. “That's sounds fascinating. I just wanted to call you because my dear godson has been going a little mad, glaring offensively at his phone and such, awaiting a reply from you. So if you could be so kind as to take a few minutes out to reassure him that you are just fine, I would appreciate that…ah…yes, I see.” He covered the speaker with his hand and whispered to Harry, “She was helping at her parents' office all day, then got whisked away to Grandma's birthday party. Hasn't had a lot of time.” He returned to Hermione, “Yes, I'm sure he understands, but his new habit is having some trouble comprehending…yeah, that would be great. Here he is.” He offered Harry the phone and ignored his murderous look.

Harry tossed his cigarette and once again cast a Vanishing Charm before bring the phone to his ear. “Hey, sorry about that—some idiot hi-jacked my phone, as you can tell.” Harry said with a laugh, still glaring at Sirius's back as the man made his way back inside. “Habit? I dunno what he's talking about…probably my obsession with checking my phone. I…I just get worried, you know, especially with hearing what's going on during the meetings. Sunday can't get here fast enough.” Harry confessed, stepping off the porch and out into the darkness of the yard.

“I'm sorry. I've been neglecting my phone, I know. Things have been hectic and all.” Hermione admitted guiltily on the other line. Harry smiled, just happy to hear her voice and know that she was safe.

“No, you're fine. Don't be sorry. It's not your fault…okay, well it is a little bit, but it shouldn't be. It's my issues.” Harry clarified with a laugh.

“I'll try to be more attentive.” Hermione promised. “How are things there?”

“Boring. Not a lot happening on the Voldemort front, which is both good and bad. And more people show up here every day, so the word is getting out, and some people believe it.” Harry responded, coming to a halt at the wrought iron fence at the edge of the property. He reached up and lazily snaked one hand around one of the thin pickets of the fence.

“Well, that's good news. Your parents still giving you crap?” Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.

Harry nodded to himself. “It doesn't matter. It's not a big deal. We're going to be gone for a few weeks. Don't feel guilty about this!” Harry warned, already knowing Hermione's misgivings.

He could almost hear her smile. “I know, I know. It'll be fun—and we could use some of that.”

“Exactly.” Harry replied, as his brooding mood had all but vanished by now, along with his cigarette butts. “I can't wait to see you.”

“Me too. And I've got a good birthday present for you!” Hermione revealed mischievously.

Harry smiled. “I can't wait.”

There was silence on the line for a few beats.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” She asked, referring to his interview with Healer Robinson, the director of the program he was trying to get into.

“Yeah, though I'm still wondering if the whole thing is pointless. I mean…going to training doesn't seem important anymore with recent events and looking at the big picture.” Harry dared to say, feeling out her reaction.

“Don't think like that. It is important. What have you been saying these last few months? You `aren't going to stop living your life' over him? Well, here's a major life change that he isn't going to affect, right?” Her voice was business-like, as if she was telling Harry that two and two made four. Her argument just was.

“I know, I know. I guess nerves are just getting me to.” Harry admitted.

“Well, don't let them. Remind him that you will make a positive force on their team. Let him know you are excited for training, and will be working as hard as you can to get your Healer license. Make yourself indispensible to him.” Hermione advised slowly, making sure Harry got every word.

“Got it. Indispensible. He needs me. The future of St. Mungos rests on my shoulders, as if there aren't enough burdens there already.” Harry said with equal parts of humor and resentment.

“I'm sorry. I'm not trying to add pressure.” Hermione replied softly.

Harry waved the bitterness off. “No, you're fine. How was your grandmother's birthday?” He asked, taking the attention off him.

* * *

Sweaty palms. Nauseous stomach. Head pounding. Harry sat in the emerald pouf chair outside the director's office, awaiting his interview. When he had gotten word back that he would be granted an interview for both the Auror program and Healer program he applied for, Harry had been slightly surprised. He figured he'd be lucky to get one, so two was a pipe dream. But here he was, sitting outside for his second interview.

His interview the day before had gone well, he thought. Healer Robinson had been a friend of his mother's, and Harry had met him a few times. She had taken his training class herself. Harry had been nervous, but it had been nothing compared to now.

He had to remind himself that it was Friday. A few more days, and he'd be gone—on vacation, away from everyone but his friends. No more weird looks. No more hearing about Voldemort. No more glares from his mother. Nothing but the beach, his girlfriend, and his best mates.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Robards will see you now.” A middle-aged brunette with russet eyes behind a pair of black, square spectacles said, standing up from her desk.

Harry hastily got to his feet and almost tripped over the leg of his chair. She escorted him through a set of double doors and down a corridor until she reached a large, wooden door. She gave two fast taps with her knuckles, and the door opened. “I have Mr. Harry Potter for you, sir.” She greeted her boss, pushing the door open to allow Harry entrance.

A man in his thirties stood behind his massive mahogany desk and took Harry's outstretched hand. “Mr. Potter, good to meet you. Please, take a seat.” He gestured to the chair facing him. Harry sat down, body rigid. “Let's see here…ah, yes. You've just graduated. N.E.W.T.S. results are still not in, but they should be along shortly.” He muttered under his breath, his eyes quickly going through Harry's file. “What made you want to pursue this career?” He asked, looking up at Harry.

Harry cleared his throat. His words to his Transfiguration professor came back to mind. “It's a dangerous and rigorous career path, I'm well aware. The training is harsh and extensive—only the best make it. I know that I can make it. I want to fight and protect the ones I love, as well as others.” Harry spoke slowly, his voice taking on a deeper sound than usual. “Not only to I have a passion for the field, I feel that it is my duty, if I know I'm one of the ones that can make it, to do so.” Harry said, confident but not cocky.

The man nodded. “I can understand that. The field is very rigorous, as you said.” He scanned Harry's application. “I see you rate your overall physical fitness level at an eight. Speed and agility a seven. Dueling abilities…nine. That's rather confident.” He remarked, almost incredulously.

“I stand by my marks, sir.” Harry said. “I've learned a lot during my education, especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I played Seeker for the House Quidditch team for seven years—my speed and reflexes are top notch, though I am eager to take on the challenge for improvement. I like to test myself. You can see my course schedule. You can see my marks. My O.W.L.S. I'm not saying I was top of my class, but I was pretty close, despite my work load. My mother instilled a very disciplined drive in me to strive for me to be the best that I can be.” Harry replied with a smile. He neglected to mention that his mother would have probably cut him up and fed him to Hedwig if he had done any less.

“Taking on candidates right out of Hogwarts is rather uncommon, despite the amount of applicants we receive. There is an initial program that begins in September, two weeks of training. Only a handful go on to the actual three year training program after that course. During those two weeks, applicants will undergo several tests—stealth, aptitude, character, physical fitness, and of course, spell-work. It takes place at a camp. You may ask why we only give applicants two weeks. This is a very busy department. We don't have time or resources to train you to be ready to go into training. No, you train yourself to be ready, and in those two short weeks, show us that deserve a spot.” He said, his voice severe. “Like I said, only a handful go from training camp into the actual training program. Then, only a few from the program actually become Aurors.

“Don't undergo the task lightly. Before I can make an informed decision, I will need your N.E.W.T.S. I've sent out for a copy of them already. Once I receive them, I will contact you again. If you have the marks, you have the spot in the camp. Do you have any questions?” He asked, speaking fast.

Harry was taken by surprise. Was he in? This interview hadn't even lasted ten minutes, and he had barely asked Harry anything. “Er…no, no questions, sir.” Harry answered quickly.

The man stood and stretched his hand out again, and Harry jumped up and shook the man's hand. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Potter. I will contact you by the first week of August. If your marks are good enough—and judging from your past marks, I don't see why they wouldn't be—then I will see you in September.” Gawain Robards said, walking Harry to the door. Noticing Harry's expression, he asked, “Something wrong, son?'

Harry quickly shook his head. “No sir. This just went by a lot faster than I thought.” Harry laughed.

Robards nodded. “This is more of a formality meeting, to make sure the applicants know where they are getting into. No, the real interview in the training in camp. However, I would just like to say that first year applicants don't make it in generally, so if you believe you have the skills, don't be discouraged. It is July, and training begins in September. There isn't much time to train in between there to prepare, but there is a year before next year's camp. If I were you, that's what I would shoot for.” The man said, being blunt and honest about the reality of the situation.

Harry nodded his understanding. “I'll keep that in mind sir, but if it's all the same to you, I'll just go ahead and pass it the first time around.”

Robards let out a bark of laughter. “You've got spark, kid. I like that. But it's going to take a lot more than sheer cockiness to get into the program. I'll see you in September, and we'll just have to see how much you walk the walk.”

Harry grinned. “I'm not one to disappoint, Mr. Robards. I'll see you in September.” With that, Harry walked down the corridor and back out to the small lobby where Robards' secretary sat. He bid her farewell and saw himself out. The challenge set before him only enlarged his ego. He would be able to do this. He suddenly felt the urge to start training right this second.

He went to the Apparation point located in the Ministry and Disapparated to his home just outside Godric's Hollow. He jogged into his house and went to the kitchen. He gulped down some juice straight from the container before rushing up to his bedroom. He donned on shorts and a t-shirt, his iPod, and ear buds before racing down the stairs and jogging down the road.

* * *

The next two days passed by quickly for Harry. He started his training immediately. He changed his diet—not completely, but definitely did some tweaking so he ate a lot more raw fruits and veggies, as well as upped his protein intake. He ran in the morning and followed that with a workout. He practiced spells in the afternoon, as well as organizing mock tests that would test his speed, agility, and reflexes. Finally, in the evening he ran again and put in another full workout.

By Sunday afternoon, he had four workout sessions in, and was feeling the pain of it all. His body ached and he could hardly move. As he laid slumped on the couch, he felt completely exhausted.

“Hello son.” His father greeted him cheerfully. “What are you doing?” He asked, noting his son's state.

“Mentally debating whether or not it's worth my energy to get up and get the remote, or if I should just suffer this terrible television show for another hour.” Harry said, staring longingly at the remote some four feet away. If he stretched, he could almost grab it.

His father picked the remote up and chucked it into the chair on the other side of the room. Harry groan in response. “Why did you do that?” He whined.

His father chuckled as Lily came into the room, “Why did you do what for?” She asked, taking in her son's crumpled state. “Harry, you are overtaxing yourself. This is getting ridiculous.” She reprimanded, going over to check his face for any sign of a fever or anything else she could fuss over.

“He's fine, Lils. A little training never hurt anyone.” His father said, gesturing towards his son.

“This is extreme training!” Lily replied. “This isn't healthy, honey.” She said, still fussing over Harry's body.

Harry groaned again and, against his better judgment, stood up. “I've got to pack anyway.” He said, walking in the direction of his room.

“Harry…won't you at least reconsider this whole thing?” Lily asked softly, getting to her feet. “What if she just…came here? Or Headquarters?” She offered.

Harry smiled and turned around. “Mum, I'll be fine, I promise. I'll be safe. And it's not just seeing her, it's everything. Just…getting away for awhile would be nice.” Harry argued, his tone gentle. He didn't want another fight about this.

“You were just away from us for ten months!” She responded.

Harry went over and gave her a hug. “I know, I know. But this is my last little chance at this sort of thing before training starts and all of this with Voldemort…can I please just have a few weeks, Mum? I'll check in every day if it makes you happy, twice even.” Harry gave his mother the puppy dog face and pouted his lip out.

She had never had a problem before with him going and spending a few weeks at Sirius's house. He knew she didn't like the idea because of all this Voldemort business. He also knew she hated the idea because Hermione would be with him.

She hugged him back, despite how sweaty he was. “She better not get pregnant.” His mother said, her tone severe.

Harry laughed as he pulled and started back towards the stairs. “Why is everyone obsessed with Hermione getting pregnant!?” He called behind him.

* * *

If you could only see the way she loves me
Then maybe you would understand
Why I feel this way about our love
And what I must do
If you could only see how blue her eyes can be when she says
When she says she loves me

Well, you got your reasons
And you got your lies
And you got your manipulations
They cut me down to size

“If You Could Only See” TONIC

* * *

Harry pulled up to Hermione's block. He had Apparated about twenty minutes outside London, and from there, drove his car. He took one last drag on his cigarette, before waving his wand and causing it to vanish. His last one. With another wave of his wand, the awful smell of his dirty little secret vanished. Nasty habit kicked, all traces gone with it.

He could feel his heartbeat start to pick up as he continued to drive down the street until he was right outside Hermione's house. A grin plastered on his face, Harry quickly hopped out of his car and bounced up the sidewalk.

Hermione answered the door, a smile on her face. She looked beautiful. Harry couldn't believe it had only been two week since he had last seen her. She pulled him into a quick hug before dragging him inside.

“Harry's here!” Hermione called. “I hope you're hungry.” She said with a grin.

Harry smiled and replied, “Yeah, and something smells delicious. Your mother must have cooked.” He said with a smirk.

Hermione swatted his arm before they made their way into the kitchen.

Harry had dinner with Hermione and her family. He felt better than he had in the last two weeks. Not wanting to offend Hermione's mother, Harry tossed his diet plans out the window for the evening and indulged himself.

“Hermione tells us you have family over near Kent, is that right?” Hermione's father asked, looking over at Harry.

Harry swallowed his bite of potatoes before nodding. “My godfather, actually. He lives in Cliffinshire, down on the sea. Beautiful landscapes. Gray waters and high, mighty cliffs. It really is amazing.” Harry replied easily.

“Be sure to take lots of pictures, Hermione!” Hermione's mother said with a smile.

Hermione nodded.

“I'm sure it's nothing compared to what you guys will be seeing in Greece here in a few months, but it's still a nice little getaway spot.” Harry continued, referring to the trip Hermione and her parents would be going on in September, which had been planned during the same weeks as Harry's training camp.

They four of them continued to chat about Greece and Cliffinshire, as well as the plans Harry and Hermione had during the next few weeks.

Once dinner was over, Harry and Hermione made quick work of cleaning up and packing Hermione's things into the car. Night had fallen as Harry closed the trunk of his car, everything ready to go. “Let's just go say good-bye.” Hermione said, turning back to the house.

“What's that?” Harry asked, pointing to the shadows between two hedges. Hermione walked over to take a look before she found herself being pushed into the shadows. “Oh, it's a beautiful girl.” Harry whispered in her ear, his hands catching her wrists and bringing them up to encircle his neck. Without preamble, Harry's lips found hers in the dark. His hands flew to her hips and slowly made their way up her sides and around her back until they were engulfed in her hair. Hermione responded to his passion with heat of her own, pulling his lips harder against hers. Harry pressed her body against the side of the house, causing Hermione to giggle.

“We need to get back inside!” She said through muffled kisses. Her hands found their way to his chest and moved to push him away but Harry just laced his fingers with hers and halted her movements. Hermione continued to squirm playfully untilr Harry finally pulled away.

He rested his forehead against her and tried to regain control over his breathing. “Wow. Merlin, I've missed that.” He admitted with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled him along, back towards the front door. After finally bidding her parents farewell, Hermione and Harry were on the road.

Their drive was about an hour from London in the direction of the coast. Time flew by as conversation kept up. Harry told her more about his training, and she took his mother's side in his extreme routine. Harry told her she wouldn't mind once he had a six pack and rock hard abs. Hermione rolled her eyes and replied with a witty but honest comment that she doubted she'd ever see that one.

Once they arrived in Cliffinshire, it was late—later than Harry had planned. He drove the familiar roads until he came upon Sirius's house. He pulled in the drive and went through all the enchantments and wards Sirius had on the house—which doubled once Harry had decided to take this little vacation.

Harry grabbed the bags and led Hermione inside the house. He ran his hand along the wall to find the lights. He dropped the bags, led Hermione to the kitchen, and grabbed some juice from the refrigerator.

“Welcome to the house of Black.” Harry said, gesturing to the space surrounding them. He gave her a quick tour of the kitchen and living room, the backyard through the windows, the bathroom, and pointed out Sirius's room and the guest bedroom.

He grabbed their bags from the living room and finally made his own personal bedroom in the house. He flicked the lights on in there and unceremoniously dropped their bags at the foot of his bed. “A few drawers are already empty for you and plenty of closet space. We already got everything ready a week ago. Um, I can take your toothbrush and all that stuff and put it in the bathroom. Make yourself comfortable.” Harry said as he quickly unpacked their bathroom things and put them away. He double check and made sure all the wards and enchantments were in place, going through all the doors and windows. He looked outside into the darkness, but saw nothing. Feeling completely happy and excited about the prospect of their small vacation, Harry whistled as he made his way back to his bedroom.

In his absence, Hermione had unpacked both of their things and had everything put away, and was pulling her pajamas out.

“What took you so long?” She asked, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow.

Harry flipped the television on grabbed disc one of the first season of Friends that Hermione had brought. “Just double checking all the wards and everything. I have to make sure we're safe, right?” He popped in the DVD player and cut the lights. He was just hopping in bed when he remembered he promised he'd check in. “Oh, that reminds me…” He grabbed his phone and called the house phone. He told his parents they had made it there safely and he double checked all the wards.

Finally, Harry rolled back over so he was on his back, phone put away. Hermione was sitting in bed beside him, smiling happily. She leaned down and hugged her body close to his, snuggling against his chest. “I've missed you so much.” She said, hugging him tighter.

Harry rested his chin on top of her head. “Me too. You have no idea how worried I've been.” Harry told her.

Hermione reached over and grabbed the remote to the television. “I think we can go one night without watching this.” She said, promptly turning the power off and leaving them in darkness except for the silver of the moonlight shining in the window.

She tossed the remote over the side of the bed and lean back down towards him. Her hand tangled itself in his hair as she brought her lips to his. Harry responded immediately, reaching over to her knee and hiking her capri-clad leg up to his hip. Hermione rolled on her back, pulling him with her so he was now hovering above her. He pulled away from her kiss, on his knees between her thighs. In one swift movement, he pulled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it somewhere behind him. He was surprised when he saw Hermione follow suit. Before he could say anything, she pulled him back down in another heated kiss.

Feeling Hermione's naked skin against him was driving Harry mad. She was so soft and smooth. He allowed his hands to journey from her hips up to cup her breasts then higher, memorizing every inch he could find. He moved his mouth to her neck, then to her bared chest. His hands, itching to explore new territory, slipped under the thin strap of her cotton bra and slowly, ready to stop at any moment, eased it from her shoulder. He kissed across her collarbone and down her shoulder. His conversation with Sirius just a few days before floating vaguely in his mind, though honestly he didn't have much blood left in his head to think too clearly at the moment.

He continued to trail his kisses down her arm to her fingertips before switching over to her stomach. He had no idea what he was doing, but judging from the soft moans coming from Hermione, it must have felt good to her. He rained kisses all over her stomach and made his way back up her body, over the swell of her breasts and along the line of her bra. He could feel the goosebumps on her body along his tongue, and it gave him a sense of satisfaction that he could do this to her. Daringly, he maneuvered his tongue to gently inch beneath her bra until he felt her hardened nipple in his mouth.

He had to stop them, and he had to stop them now. Somewhere in the back of his brain, a voice was whispering for him to stop. He was getting too worked up. Despite Hermione's body movements at the moment, he knew she wasn't ready for where he wanted to take this at the moment. Hell, he wasn't even completely sure he was ready—though he had the feeling it wouldn't take much for him to be.

As if Hermione could read his thoughts, she pulled his head up so his tongue was no longing exploring under her bra. She pulled him into a slow kiss, silently telling him they really needed to stop before they got carried away. She finally pushed him off her so his face was hovering inches about hers.

Looking into her eyes in that soul-baring moment, Harry felt the words he'd never been able to say, though he had speculated their truth many times for hours.

“I…I love you.”

* * *

And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't wanna go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
When sooner or later it's over
I just don't wanna miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

“Iris” GOO GOO DOLLS

Well, what did everyone think of the first chapter here?! I hope you all enjoyed it. I know not a lot happened, but that's how a lot of this story is going to be—more a primer for the next one, just setting stuff up. Like I said, please review and let me know what you thought! My new goal is a new chapter out every two weeks or less, so make sure I have plenty of motivation!

Thanks for reading!

*~Archie~*

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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Once again, before schedule I believe a new chapter! I'm getting pretty good at this haha. Thanks for all the awesome reviews—I'll reply in the next day or two. Nothing is mine. Except Cliffinshire. That is mine, my very own. So bite it, JKR, haha. Kidding.

Except it really is mine. Hehe.

Enjoy!

CHAPTER TWO: The Highlight Comes When You Kiss Me

That trying not to love you, only went so far
Trying not to need you, was tearing me apart
Now I see the silver lining, from what we're fighting for
We just keep on trying, we could be much more
'Cause trying not to love you
Oh, yeah, trying not to love you
Only makes me love you more
Only makes me love you more

“Trying Not to Love You” NICKEBLACK

***
Hermione stretched out lazily on her bed, shielding her eyes from the light filtering in through the dark curtains. It took only a few seconds for Hermione's mind to catch up with her surroundings. She quickly glanced over to the other side of the bed, but it was empty. Both relief and disappointment swept over her simultaneously. Yes, she would have liked waking up next to Harry, but also…this was all completely new to her, and a few private moments to calm herself wasn't a bad idea.

She was on an unsupervised vacation with her boyfriend—and two other blokes would be joining them at some point. She had told her parents it was a family vacation—as in quite a few people would be here. She didn't like to lie, but it was easier than facing the accusatory looks she knew she would have gotten. Yes, she was eighteen, almost nineteen and Harry would be eighteen in less than two weeks, but Hermione still felt as if this was a very mature thing to be doing. She slept with Harry in his bed. She had fallen asleep with him before a few times, but this was different. They had been at school. Once, it had been an accident. The other few times…well, that hadn't been an accident, but still, it was different. Now, they had a house to themselves for the time being until Ron and Draco got here. The boundaries were gone—the night before proved that much.

The previous night flashed through Hermione's mind, and a smile crossed her face. Harry had told her he loved her. H loved her. Hermione knew that she had strong feelings for Harry. She knew it could have quite possibly been love for awhile—starting out friendly but blossoming into a romantic way in a short period of time. She had known Harry for less than a year. But once they became friends, they had been completely inseparable. When you are with someone twenty-four/seven, feelings can grow and change quickly.

Yes, she loved him. She knew Harry must have loved her as well, even if neither had said it yet. When she looked back at actions, not words spoken, that much was obvious. But hearing him say it, and shyly telling in him return…it felt like a big step. Just like this vacation was a big step. The next big step swam lazily in her mind. She turned over the bold moves on both their parts the night before over in her head. Was she ready for that sort of thing? If she had to ask, then she doubted she was. There were plenty of other things they could do though, things she felt she might certainly be ready to explore, right here in the haven of Harry's bed.

Hermione felt a blush creep slowly up her neck. It was thrilling, being in Harry's actual bed, rather than some bed at school that was theirs for awhile, but ultimately, didn't belong to them. No, this was one of Harry's bedrooms. She let her eyes wander around the room: blue-gray walls, a deep brown hardwood floor with a large blue and black area rug, dark curtains covering the two windows, and simple furniture decorated the room. His dresser was black with silver knobs with a mirror behind it. A flat screen television sat on top of a chest of drawers that matched the dresser. She was lying in a sea of soft gray sheets and a matching comforter. A small leather love seat was against a wall. A lamp and alarm clock sat on the bedside table, its green digits telling her it was after nine. The room was relatively clean, no doubt the result from not being lived in often. Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the comforter, so distinctly Harry.

Hermione slowly slid out of Harry's bed. Where was he? She grabbed her hair tie from the nightstand, pulled her bushy brown hair up, and after taking a deep breath, exited the room. She heard noises coming from the direction of the kitchen. She gradually made her way down the hall, the carpet muffling her footsteps.

Standing over the stove was Harry, clad in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a gray tank top. Hermione crept up behind him stealthily until she was inches from him. Just as she was about to wrap her arms around him, Harry spoke, “I know you're behind me. You need to work on your ninja skills.” He reached around and caught her arms and pulled her so her chest was flush against his back as he wrapped her arms around his middle.

Hermione laughed and hugged him tighter. “And here I thought I was being rather stealthy.”

Harry spun around in her arms. “Sorry, but you walk like an elephant.” He bent down and kissed her.

Hermione quickly pulled away, self-conscious of her morning breath against Harry's minty fresh scent. “I'm going to hit to loo, if that's alright.” She said, covering her mouth.

Harry grinned. “Down the hall. Hurry, breakfast is done.”

In the bathroom, Hermione took in her appearance. Her hair was a mess. Her teeth unclean. Brown eyes still slightly groggy from recently waking up. “Ugh.” She said to her reflection in the mirror. She grabbed her toothbrush first, taking great care to clean each individual tooth. She ran a brush through the bird nest on top of her head, then pulled it back up into a messy but smoother bun. Looking around, Hermione tried to locate a hand towel. Feeling a little uncomfortable going through the drawers, she was relieved to find a washcloth on her second attempt—good enough. She located her face wash, already put away in the shower ledge, and washed her face, rinsing with cool water. Now that she was fully awake and no longer looked like the walking dead, Hermione returned to the kitchen.

Harry already had breakfast on the bar for her, a plate full of eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast. Hermione sat down and looked over at Harry's plate: a small bowl of oatmeal porridge and a half-eaten banana Harry must have been snacking on while cooking. To top it all off, a thick protein shake sat beside his glass of water. Hermione took a sip of her orange juice and said with a laugh, “Well, doesn't that all just look appetizing?”

Harry grinned. “Believe it or not, it tastes even worse than it looks.” He filled a large spoonful and took a bite hungrily.

Hermione cut up her eggs and started to spread the yolky-deliciousness on her toast. “Well, perhaps if you weren't so fat…” She trailed off playfully, feeling her uneasiness melt away as their morning banter continued. Even in the most uncomfortable situation, Harry had a way of easing her mind without even trying to. She felt completely safe with him.

Harry laughed and continued to eat his poor excuse for breakfast, finishing quickly and washing it down with his shake.

Watching him wolf down his breakfast, Hermione couldn't help but giggle. “If you devour it fast, I'm guessing you taste less?”

Harry nodded, tapping his temple. “I never knew you were so smart.” He winked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and scooped a large bite of eggs on her fork. Hovering her left hand under the fork-load so she wouldn't drop it, she brought the bite to Harry's lips. “One bite won't kill you.”

Harry opened his mouth and let her feed him her eggs. “Delicious.” He said, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

Hermione smiled and felt her face heat up under his gaze. She turned her focus back to her food. “Did you go for a run this morning? I was surprised you weren't there when I woke up.” She said slowly, taking another bite.

Harry nodded. “Sorry. I needed to get a run and work out in. Keep my eye on the prize. I figure if I do it early, then you'll never miss me.” He replied, stealing a sip of her juice.

Hermione broke off a small piece of bacon and brought it to Harry's lips, “You love food almost as much Ron. This must be torture.” As Harry moved to take the bite, Hermione pulled it away and popped the piece of meat into her own mouth. “Delicious.” She repeated his word from earlier, her expression full of mirth.

“Just for your teasing, I'm going to let you clean up.” He said, eyeing the small pile of dishes and spattered grease on the stove.

Hermione shrugged, grabbed Harry's wand from the counter and casually flicked it in the direction of the mess. Immediately, bubbles formed over the dishes and they began washing themselves. Another wave, and the mess on the stove vanished. “So what's on the agenda today?” Hermione asked, using her toast to wipe the remaining yolk from her eggs from her plate.

Harry smiled. “You'll see. Get dressed.”

Hermione drained the last of her juice. “Okay. Do you mind if I take a shower?” Hermione asked, feeling both stupid for asking but rude for just assuming she could. This wasn't her house.

Harry made a gesture of victory. “Oh thank Merlin, I was hoping you would. I didn't want to say anything, but damn, your smell is a little offensive to my nose.” Harry said, wrinkling said feature in mock disgust.

Hermione shoved him playfully. “And you can finish cleaning yourself for that one.”

Harry grinned and simply mimicked her earlier movement with his wand. “If only if was as easy as waving a wand and mumbling some sort of hocus-pocus!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and hopped off her stool. Harry grabbed her hand and led her to the bathroom. “Here are the towels.” He said opening a cupboard. “Wash clothes are over in that drawer. All your stuff is already in the shower. Um…you've obviously found your toothbrush and all that. Under the sink is where extra toilet paper is. If you need anything, maybe a hand to wash your back or whatever, just yell.” Harry said cheekily. Hermione promptly pushed him from the room and locked the door. She quickly got undressed and started the shower. Harry had all of her things lined neatly on two of the shower ledges. On the other two were his own things. Hermione reached over and opened his shampoo and inhaled the bloke scent of it that Harry's hair always smelled like. She couldn't help but smile.

Hermione tried to rush through her shower, but was slowed down by annoying things like shaving and trying to get all the shampoo from her massive amount of hair. Finally, she turned off the water and stepped out onto the mat on the floor. She realized she hadn't brought in any clothes. “Dammit.” Hermione wrapped the large, fluffy towel around her body and eased the bathroom door open. Praying Harry wasn't in his bedroom, Hermione tiptoed down the hall and peeked inside the room.

Empty. Relieved, Hermione rushed inside and locked the door. Leaning against the door, Hermione laughed. She was in a boy's bedroom, naked. Snickering still, Hermione went over to the drawers and began to pulling out fresh clothes.

What should she wear? She knew they were on the ocean, but she didn't know if they were going to be going swimming or not. It was still early in the day, Hermione decided, so she just opted for a t-shirt and capris. Finally donning on her flip flops and grabbing her camera, Hermione headed for the living room. She could hear Harry talking to someone. Had Ron and Draco already come?

To her surprise, Harry was alone. He was lounging on the couch, Xbox controller in his hand and his attention on the screen. “Did your baby sister teach you how to shoot like that? Bleeding pansy…….Oh yeah? What are you, twelve? Do you kiss your mum with that mouth?” Hermione noticed he had on a headset of sorts, talking into the mic on it. He was wearing a pair of tan shorts and black t-shirt. Standing behind him, unnoticed, Hermione powered on her camera and took a picture of the scene. Hearing the camera, Harry turned his attention behind him.

“What are you playing?” Hermione asked, coming around and sitting on the edge of the couch. “And who are you talking to?” She asked, eyeing his headset.

“Black Ops. And some idiot that keeps getting himself killed, Gunnman14. Just a little friendly trash talk.” Harry said with a wink.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “And he's twelve?” She asked slowly. “Playing…violent shooting games?” Hermione watched as Harry threw some sort of bomb or grenade or something and blew up someone with the gamertag Destr0yer187.

Harry shrugged. “Could be. Not very talented, that's for sure.”

Hermione nodded. “So…”

“How was your shower?” Harry asked, turning back to the screen.

“Fine.” Hermione replied.

“Cool. Nice playing with you mate, but it's about to get x-rated over here on my end, so I'm going to let you go.” Harry reached over and turned the television off.

“You did not just tell that to a twelve year old!” Hermione said, her jaw dropping.

Harry shrugged. “He might have been fourteen, who knows? More importantly…” Harry grabbed Hermione's hand pulled her so she was lying on top of him. “I can kiss you now, right? No more hygiene excuses?” He asked, bringing his hand up to cup the side of her face.

Hermione let herself be pulled down into a heated kiss, but pulled away after a minute or so as Harry's hands were getting friendly with her bum. “As fun as snogging with my boyfriend on a couch is…” Hermione said, moving to her feet and offering Harry a hand, “I think I'd like to see more of Cliffinshire. I was promised beautiful sights.”

Harry moved to pull Hermione back down, but she danced out of his reach. “Come on, Potter.” She called, heading for the door. Harry rolled off the couch, grabbed his wand that he wasn't going to keep too far from his reach, and followed her out of the door. He shoved his wand in his deep pockets and reached out to take Hermione's hand.

They walked silently down the pathway and cut across the yard, heading for the beach. The sky was gray, along with the waters. Waves rolled in the shore, white sea foam crashing against the sand. The beach was mostly deserted, only a handful of people jogging or throwing a Frisbee back and forth. “Here's the beach. The sunlight isn't coming out today, but don't worry, it will sometime this week.” Harry said, point to the water.

The smell of the ocean air assaulted Hermione's senses, a mixture of sea and salt. She liked it. She squeezed Harry's hand, and felt him do the same. “This is beautiful.” She said, reaching suddenly into her pocket for her camera.

“Yeah, but the best view is up on the cliffs. Don't worry, I'll show you.” He assured her mischievously, looking over a ways towards a set of cliffs that lined part of the sea. Their large, gray faces stood solemnly against the relentless attack from the mutinous waves.

“Do you surf?” Hermione asked, eyeing a few people attempting to ride the waves.

Harry chuckled. “A little, but not very well. Draco can tear the waves up pretty decently. Ron is about as same as me—took him awhile to understand why a Muggle would attempt to ride a board on water. But we can go surfing, if you'd like. Might want to wait for a better day—less wind, more sun. Could be fun.” Harry replied, looking out at the water.

Hermione shook her head. “Trust me when I say that's not a good idea. Have you seen me…well, try to do anything even remotely athletic?” She laughed.

Harry smirked. “We'll give it a try. Let's go on the boardwalk.”

Harry took Hermione down the boardwalk, pointing out different points of interest, assuring her they would do most of them during their time in Cliffinshire. Hermione noticed how laid back most of the people around here were. She could understand why Sirius would thrive in a place like this, and it was easily understandable why Harry loved it here as well.

They spent most of the morning and early afternoon exploring the town on foot. Harry showed her some of his favorite spots, promising to take her to the top of the cliffs later, said he had special plans for that one with that impish look he so often got that told Hermione he was going to show her one more time just how lucky she was.

“So when are Ron and Draco going to come here?” Hermione asked, asking about their mutual friends.

Harry shrugged. “I'm not entirely sure. I know Ron picked up a job at his brothers' joke shop for the time being. And Draco…I haven't talked to him much. I know he's after a spot on Puddlemere's reserved team, so he's been training like mad. Try-outs are at the end of September.” Harry answered, relaying all the information he's gotten so far.

“Do you think he'll make it?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. He's a really good Quidditch player. He won't be on the reserve team too long before being put in the games. I'd say less than a year.”

They had circled back to the house. “Let's find some lunch.” Harry said, opening the door for her. Hermione moved to go through the door, but Harry's arm suddenly barred her entrance. He lifted her chin and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I love you.” He said, his eyes suddenly serious.

Hermione smiled. “I love you too.”

***

The next few days were a blur. Harry and Hermione spent most of the day just being lazy and enjoying each other's company. Movies, food, and games took up most of their time. Harry was now caught up on the first two seasons of Friends, and Hermione could navigate her way around the Der Riese map and get a solid four rounds by herself in his Black Ops game. It was pretty poor, but she was proud nonetheless.

It was quite possibly the laziest vacation in the world, but Hermione didn't care. She was having a great time.

“Sorry! Oh goodness! I'm so sorry!” Hermione apologized for the tenth time to the headset on her head. She was playing Zombie mode with two other people via internet, and Z0mbieHead1989 had to revive her for the sixth time so far. “I just can't get anywhere with this gun!” She tried to tell them, but at the moment, he was using a few well choice words that were rather offensive. “Well, that's a little on the foul side, don't you think? Hey, I'm sorry! I'm a beginner over here. Yeah? Well that's just fine, you jerk!” Hermione said, ripping the headset off and tossing it on the couch. “That was just a little rude. He's so lucky I can't hex him through the headset.” She mumbled as she watched her screen go red before gray again, as she had been once again taken down.

A chuckle behind her made Hermione turn around. Harry, sweating from head to toe, was standing in the door way, worn out from his run.

Hermione felt her face redden. “What? He was being mean!”

Harry picked up her controller and looked at the stats thus far. “I told you, Hermione, people can be prats on this game. He's probably some loser pro with nothing better to do than make girls cry over the internet because girls make him cry in real life.” He said with a chuckle. “And babe, you truly are awful at this game. You can't blame them for getting a little upset.” He said with a laugh.

“I am not awful!” Hermione said indignantly.

“You're new. You're awful. And that's fine. I don't mind sucking at all.” Harry explained with a grin.

With an evil glint in Hermione's eye, she stood and pulled him down for a sultry kiss and trailed her lips up his sweaty neck to his ear before saying huskily, “Something tells me you wouldn't mind me sucking one bit.” She bit his ear lobe playfully as her hand bravely ventured down his stomach and grazed the front of his shorts lightly. Before Harry could respond, she turned around and walked towards his bedroom to hide her blushing face.

Harry stood there, goosebumps still on his shoulders and arms, and his blood quickly draining south. “Damn you woman.” He breathed, feeling even hotter than before, but it had nothing to do with his run.

After giving himself a few seconds to calm down, Harry played with the idea of calling her bluff. As he walked down the hall, he turned into the bathroom for a shower instead of his bedroom where he so desperately wanted to go.

***

I still hear your voice when you sleep next to me
I still feel your touch in my dreams
Forgive me my weakness, but I don't know why
Without you it's hard to survive

'Cause every time we touch, I get this feeling
And every time we kiss I swear I could fly
Can't you feel my heart beat fast,
I want this to last
Need you by my side

'Cause every time we touch, I feel the static
And every time we kiss I reach for the sky
Can't you hear my heart beat so
I can't let you go
Want you in my life

Your arms are my castle
Your heart is my sky
They wipe away tears that I cry
The good and the bad times
We've been through them all

You make me rise when I fall

“Every Time We Touch” CASCADA

***

Ready to enact his own revenge on the minx in his bedroom, he walked into his room in a towel, whistling carelessly. Hermione was standing at the window, her gaze out into the dimming light. She turned around at his intrusion and quickly returned her eyes to the window. Harry comfortably made his way over to his top drawer and pulled out a pair of boxers to put on. He toweled his dripping hair, making sure to shake his head in her direction to rain tiny droplets on her. He slipped his pajama pants on before slowly coming up behind her.

He placed his lips at the crook of her neck, and could feel the warmth radiating from her face. He knew he had embarrassed her, and that made him smile against her skin. Feeling his own body heat up, Harry's hands found the hem of her tank top and slowly eased it over her head. He couldn't believe how much he craved her skin. Harry could feel his heart beat pick up at the sight of her naked back. He allowed his hands to trace the straps of her bra before meeting at the clip in the middle. He easily opened the back of the bra and slid the garment down her arms until she was completely naked from the waste up, like he was.

He heard her breath hitch and watched as goosebumps erupted over her shoulders and arms in the wake of his hands sliding unhurriedly across her skin. He rubbed small, leisure circles on her back. Satisfied that she wasn't going to stop him, Harry stepped closer and drug his lips across the skin on her shoulder as his roaming hands left her back and ventured to her stomach, then finally, up to her breasts. Hermione let out a gentle moan, her hands reaching up to grab the back of his neck to pull his lips closer to her. Encouraged by her reaction, Harry brought his body flush against her, skin to skin. He pressed his growing hard-on against her bum, and involuntarily began to grind against her.

Hermione's hands began to wander as well. Reaching behind her, Hermione's daring hands slipped beneath the waistband of his pajama pants. Harry groan in response, his hands dropping and catching on the window sill. Emboldened by his response, Hermione's hands continued to explore—experimenting what sort of touch elicited the delicious sounds in her ear.

Harry was losing his head. He was supposed to be in control and getting back at Hermione. Suddenly, he didn't care anymore who was in control. “Fuck it.” He muttered before forcefully spinning Hermione around and trapping her against the wall, her hands pinned above her head in one of his as his mouth attacked hers. Hermione fought to free her hands, and somehow managed to gain use of her limbs. Harry reached down and picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. Harry stumbled backwards until they crashed onto his bed and fell into a sea of blankets.

Harry's mouth slid from Hermione's lips to her neck and collarbone, then he trailed her chest. Hermione moaned and bucked involuntarily beneath him at the unfamiliar sensations he brought her, her hands gripping his hair. He kissed down her stomach until he reached the button on her jeans. Old conversations with Ron and Draco over the last few months popped into mind—what to expect, what to do, technique—meaningless advice or toe-curling pointers?

He decided to just go with his instincts and journeyed his lips back to hers while his fingers inched below the front of her jeans and his thumb flicked open the top button. His tongue twirled with Hermione's in a victory dance as her zipper slid down and his hands gripped her jeans to shimmy them at a painfully deliberate pace down her legs. Oh bloody hell what were they getting in to?! He found himself not giving a fuck as her jeans hit his bedroom floor.

***

I've got no regret right now (I'm feelin' this)
The air is so cold and null (I'm feelin' this)
Let me go in her room (I'm feelin' this)
I wanna take off your clothes(I'm feelin' this)
Show me the way to bed (I'm feelin' this)
Show me the way you move (I'm feelin' this)
Fuck it it's such a blur (I'm feelin' this)
I love all the things you do (I'm feelin' this)

Fate fell short this time
Your smile fades in the summer
Place your hand in mine
I'll leave when I wanna

Where do we go from here
Turn all the lights down now
Smiling from ear to ear (I'm feelin' this)
Our breathing has got too loud (I'm feelin' this)
Show me the bedroom floor (I'm feelin' this)
Show me the bathroom mirror (I'm feelin' this)
We're taking this way too slow (I'm feelin' this)
Take me away from here (I'm feelin' this)

“Action” BLINK 182

***

Harry jerked awake, a sharp pain searing through his scar. Harry almost fell off the bed in surprise. He was breathing hard, as if he had just run a long distance. Pulling up to a sitting position, Harry reached over for his glasses on his bedside table. His sheet fell away from his chest, exposing his bare chest to the cool air. He shivered as goosebumps erupted over his skin. Harry slowly got out of bed, rubbing his scar, and turned the fan on low.

His scar had woken up him up. A quick flash of pain. As the bed creaked under his weight, Harry turned on his side to look at the sleeping form next to him. Hermione had her back to him, hunched in a ball with her hair in wild tangles behind her. She was wearing a large bed shirt and pajama bottoms. Very little skin was exposed. Had she rubbed her arm against him?

No. This wasn't from Hermione. Harry refused to believe it as his blood began to pump wildly in his ears. Was he shaking? Taking a deep breath, Harry slowly reached out and hovered his finger inches from her arm. For a few seconds, he was motionless before gently brushing his fingers up the length of her arm.

Nothing more than the soft, warm skin he had been exploring the night before. Harry let out the breath he had been holding. His scar had nothing to do with Hermione. Which meant it had everything to do with Voldemort.

Harry gently planted a kiss on Hermione's arm and hugged her close to him. He closed his eyes as he inhaled her scent, wiling it to wash away the uneasiness he was feeling from his scar. Had he been dreaming about something? An afternoon on the lake in a small rowboat came to Harry's mind. Once he had been rudely woken up by Hermione's prank, he had this similar troubled feeling. Red eyes had haunted him then. Now, Harry wasn't sure when haunted him—something was brewing, that he knew.

Harry closed his eyes again, once again wishing these problems would vanish in the warmth of Hermione's body next to him. He didn't want to face this. He didn't want to be mixed up with Voldemort.

He wanted to be young and just enjoy a vacation with his girlfriend without his scar bothering him or feeling guilty about running away from his problems.

He wasn't running away. He was running away. He was taking a well-deserved break. He was leaving the fight for others.

Harry had a hard time swallowing that logic. Didn't he train every day? Wasn't he working his ass off to better himself, so he could protect Hermione, his mother and father, and everyone else he cared about?

No, he couldn't accept that he was running away from anything. Wanting some distance, but still very much in the fight. It wasn't like Voldemort was knocking on their door at the moment. He had sat in on the meetings. He had listened to the routine information. Right now, they were experiencing the calm before the storm. No time was promised to him, and no future either.

Harry recalled the words of Hagrid before they had left the school at the end of term. He had told Harry there wasn't any use in getting all bent out of shape. It wouldn't change anything. What was going to come, was going to come, and either way, they would all have to meet it when it got there.

Voldemort was coming. If there was anything Harry knew, he knew that. Voldemort was coming for all of them, and he was going to fight hard.

But he wasn't here now. Right now, Harry was wrapped around the girl he loved with the knowledge that everyone he loved—family and friends alike—were safe, for the moment anyway.

And he would do everything he could to keep it that way. Harry looked over at the time, and saw that it was just after five in the morning. He eased out of bed, grabbed his workout clothes, and headed out of the room for his run.

Despite knowing Hermione was safe, Harry kept his run close to Sirius's house. He put up every ward he could think of. He ran harder than he ever had, wanting to get his miles in and be done, just so Hermione wouldn't be alone in the house. To ease his distress, Harry tried to let his mind wander back to the previous night.

Heat crept in his cheeks as a huge smile fought its way onto his face. Last night had been amazing. Being novices didn't stop them from exploring each other in an awkward but rewarding way. Harry could still hear the embarrassing sounds Hermione couldn't hold back that she pulled a pillow over her blushing face as his hands discovered what she did and didn't like, with her own hand shyly teaching him what felt good to her. After a long but satisfying experience, Harry had felt like a champ. Having her trembling thighs impulsively snap together over forearm, taking his hand hostage as her body jerked forward and some of the sexiest sounds he'd ever heard tumble from her lips in soft moans—yes, he was definitely a victor.

Hermione needed little guidance on her part, as it was simple to please him—after all, wanking off is a pretty straight forward act. Pushing past her embarrassment, Hermione had gotten him off easily. Harry smiled as he remembered the sexy but determined look in her eyes in the moonlight. Merlin, it had felt good. He had his own inhibitions of being that vulnerable in front of her for the first time: naked, vocal, and inexperienced, but together, they pushed boundary lines back just a little bit further. And Harry couldn't wait to test those waters as well.

Getting a little too turned on and uncomfortable while trying to run with his growing hard-on, Harry quickly switched his thoughts to focus more on the music in his ears, and less about Hermione getting him off. Or her naked. Or her mouth. Or anything about her at the moment, really.

Finally satisfied he had completed his run, Harry leaned against a tree that was between Sirius's house and the ocean to catch his breath and nurse a stitch in his side. As he stared out at the dark gray water in the budding sunlight where the ocean crashed onto the sand, a vision of dark water emitting an eerie emerald color from below the surface flashed before his eyes. A rocky shoreline met the unnatural water, and the lake had been encased in a room formulated from rock. The ceiling was endless and disappeared into blackness. Harry reached back and grabbed the tree for support as his knees buckled from the strange intrusion.

What was that? He tried to recall the image, but it was gone. What room had a lake in it? It had been huge. The quick flash had reminded Harry of the dungeons at Hogwarts, with the strange glow from the lake and wet, rocky walls. Except it had been a different glow, threatening and dangerous. And coarse, jagged walls.

Perhaps a cave? It looked very much like a cave, from Harry could remember. However, the image was growing darker by the second. A sense of déjà vu overcame him. He had experienced the same thing that vey morning, trying to catch a phantom dream that just wouldn't come back. Even as he thought it, he knew suddenly that the—cave?—had been in his dream. He was sure of it. He had definitely dreamt of those green waters, and looking out on a similar scene of the shoreline before him now had triggered the memory.

The ominous feeling growing inside of him, Harry cast one last quick glance at the water, perhaps to trigger the memory again, but got nothing. Then he turned around and sprinted for the house to check on Hermione.

Harry quietly eased his bedroom door open and tip toed inside. Hermione was just as he had left her, slumbering peacefully with a small smile on her face. She had taken up part of his side of the bed, her arm curled around his pillow. Relief swept over him. He stood there for several minutes, watching her sleep but not really seeing her. Instead he was wondering just how much danger he had put the both of them in, insisting on this vacation. He attempted to push away the guilty feelings and went for a shower. “We're fine.” Harry reassured himself in a mutter that didn't exactly diminish his worries.

After his shower, he called his mother. He asked how things were going and let her know everything was fine on his end. He had no intention of telling her of his dream, or scar. He knew she would freak out and insist on him coming home immediately, even if she had to come here and put him in full body bind herself.

Harry kept his tone light and asked about work and everything else he could think of. He knew she was still unhappy with him, but she seemed over it for the most part. He talked to her until she had to get ready for work, and hung up with the promise to call her later. Still quite early and knowing Hermione was bound to sleep for at least another hour or two, Harry found his way to Sirius's study. A book shelf lined part of one of the walls, filled with books mostly concerning defense against dark arts. Harry read most of the titles, pausing to pull a few volumes out. He left the study with two books on advanced defense spells and another one an account of Voldemort's reign of terror entitled Most Evil Dark Lord in Britain.

Harry thumbed through the advanced spell books for a few minutes before propping up the book on Voldemort against an appliance and began reading as he slowly started making breakfast.

The book did not go into Voldemort's childhood, and instead picked up a few years after Hogwarts. Harry read about how Voldemort slowly gained the loyalty of like-minded followers in a reign against Muggles and those in the Wizarding World that were Muggleborns. The Dark Lord, while somewhat tame at first, quickly snowballed into a psychopath, the power accelerating his desire for control the Wizarding World. Those that stood in his way were quickly and maliciously defeated in the worst of ways.

It was like reading a book he had already read, but with fresh eyes now that it applied to him personally. Voldemort's story was widely known, but Harry only knew the basics. As he continued to read just how evil this wizard had truly been, he found it difficult to swallow that he had “defeated” him at one time. How could he? He wasn't anything special. Dumbledore's explanation about Clarence's husband's love for him—very much like a grandfather—had saved his life seemed…lacking. It caused a lump in Harry's throat that this man he never knew had died for him. He thought about Clarence—Hermione's very own mentor he had never really met. The lady must hate him, Harry thought. He had essentially taken her husband from him.

Harry wondered why if that was why he didn't know the woman. His parents had obviously been close to this woman at one time. However, she had disappeared from their lives, and Harry knew it was his fault. The lady may not blame him, but he had a feeling that on some level, she must have found it difficult to continue a friendship with the Potters. Harry couldn't blame her.

Harry berated himself as he jogged out to his car and searched under the seat. He knew it was there. He had seen it a few days before, surprised to find it but instead of tossing it out, he simply shoved it deeper out of sight. Just in case. As in, just as his thoughts became too overwhelming, just as the prophecy slowly began to suffocate him as he turned the words over in his head again and again, and just as he began an internal battle with his unwanted demons; Harry found his way to the back patio, a cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, the remainder of the pack stashed under his seat still.

***

I'm gettin' edgy
All the time
There's someone around me
Just a step behind
It's kinda scary
The shape I'm in
The walls are shakin'
And they're closing in
Too fast or
A bit too slow
I'm paranoid of people
And it's starting to show
One guy that
I can't shake
Over my shoulder
Is a big mistake

Sitting on the bed
And I'm lying wide awake
There's demons in my head
And it's more than I can take
I think I'm on a roll
But I think it's kinda weak
Sayin' all I know is
I gotta get away from me

“Gotta Get Away” THE OFFSPRING

***

A few drags in, he heard an alarm go off, but it was quickly cut short. Harry jumped, almost dropping his cigarette. Harry stepped inside the patio door and listened carefully with his wand trained the front door. He stood at the entrance to the living room, blood pounding in his ears. Very few people knew the password he had set to turn the alarm off, which meant this was most likely a friend rather than foe. Still, his hand shook as he waited while the door knob turned slowly. Heart somewhere in his throat, Harry didn't move.

It was Sirius. “Dammit, Harry, lower your wand!” He said, eyes wide. “It's just me!”

Harry instantly lowered his wand and relief washed over him. “Fuck, Sirius, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

Sirius quickly crossed the living room and joined Harry in the kitchen. His eyes automatically went to the cigarette in Harry's hand, an eyebrow raised.

Harry strode over to the patio door and went back outside, his godfather in toe.

“I don't need a lecture.” Harry said automatically. Harry turned to see Sirius behind him, the book he had been reading in his hand.

“A bit of light reading?” He asked sarcastically.

Harry shrugged. “Just browsing. Everyone tells me I don't know what I'm up against, thought I'd educate myself.” He took a long drag.

“And smoking?” Sirius pressed, despite Harry's earlier words.

Eyes watering some from the smoke, Harry ocne again raised his shoulders and let them drop in defeat. “This is the first one I've had. I…I dunno why.” Harry looked down at the cigarette that was half gone. He flicked it away and used his vanishing trick again. “I was fine.” Harry admitted. “But…this morning, I…” Harry stopped. He didn't want to disclose his dream to Sirius either. He tried to piece the words together that would make enough sense without giving too much away. “I woke up early and had too much time to think. Like…everything sort of crashed down, the whole weight of the situation. The prophecy. The man that died for me that didn't have it coming. The…the fact that I'm putting Hermione in danger because I'm a selfish ass. She needs proper protection, but at the same time, I feel like we're just fine. I can protect her…I think…” Harry's words hung in the morning air between the two men, sinking in both their brains.

Choosing his words carefully, Sirius slowly responded, “Perhaps it's a good thing. You need a little more fear in you about this. But…don't feel helpless, Harry. I've always been worried about how all this would…affect you. Everything. For years, I've watched you grow into a great young man. James and I…we've talked at length about how you would handle this, if you ever even had to. We always hoped you wouldn't. Your parents wanted to protect you, I wanted to protect you. This prophecy…I…” Sirius trailed off, his own words failing him.

Harry looked over at the man before him, as clueless as he was but wised by experience. “I just don't understand…why me?” Harry whispered, his eyes begging for an answer.

Sirius shook his head, a sardonic smile on his face. “Harry…no one knows. You…dammit, I can't give you any answers because I don't know them myself. Your parents don't. Hell, Dumbledore doesn't even know. You may be the `Chosen One' or whatever as they are calling it in the Prophet these days, but what's most important is for you to know, and accept that this is not your fight alone. Everyone is a part of this. You. Are. Not. Alone.” He said, emphasizing each word individually.

His words didn't make Harry feel any better or worse. Weighing his own words now, Harry said carefully, “It's not that I don't want him gone…I do…I just don't feel the…necessity or…desire I guess, to…end it myself, if that makes any sense.” Harry spoke little by little, trying not to come off as a coward, as that wasn't his intent. “I'm not trying to say I'm scared, I just mean…killing someone…Sirius…that's big. Even someone as inhuman as Voldemort.” Harry confessed, feeling the shame of weakness in his words.

“You are scared. Everyone is, so don't feel ashamed, Harry. And I know. Believe it, I know. But killing Voldemort…you can't think of it that way. And if there was—or even is a way—for me to take that burden from your shoulders, Harry, I will. I don't want you to have to go through that, even killing someone like him. Trust me when I say I will do everything in my power to keep you out of that position of doing it yourself. It's traumatic. And don't feel like a coward because you aren't, Harry. You aren't by any means.” Sirius said sternly, forcing Harry to believe him.

Harry felt guilty. He didn't want to put this burden on anyone else. “Sirius…I'm not trying to push this off on you, or anyone else for that matter. I just want…understanding.” Harry said, running a hand through his hair.

Sirius smiled and pulled Harry into a one-armed hug. “I know. But don't worry about that right now. I'm no expert on this type of thing. I'm not going to pretend to understand what the prophecy means or promise you things I can't keep. The best we can do right now is prepare. And that's what you've been doing, and that's more than anyone can ask of you. Just remember what I said—you are not alone in this.”

Sirius's words, while still not making him feel great about the situation, finally eased some of his distress on the matter. He felt that Sirius understood his torn emotions. “Thanks for the talk.” Harry said with a genuine smile.

Sirius nodded and clapped his hand on his godson's shoulder. “That's what I'm here for. Now go make me breakfast.” He said, pushing Harry back towards the kitchen.

His mood effectively lightened from his chat with Sirius, Harry picked up from where he left off and turned the half-cooked bacon back on.

“Where's Hermione?” Sirius asked, pouring himself some juice.

“Still asleep. She should be awake soon. Breakfast is almost done so I'll go ahead and wake her up now. She hates when I let her sleep in.” Harry laughed, knowing Hermione would appreciate the heads up that Sirius was here anyway.

Harry walked down the small corridor to his bedroom. He crawled into bed beside her and kissed her awake.

“Mmhmm.” Hermione responded, a small smile playing on her lips as she blinked a few times in the sunlight.

“Good morning.” Harry whispered, kissing her again. He had the sudden urge to pick up where he had left off the night before, but had to remind himself that Sirius was just down the hall, waiting on him no less!

Hermione seemed to have similar ideas in mind, as her hands pulled his lips away from hers—always self-conscious of her morning breath—but guided them to her neck. She let out a small moan. She tugged at his belt loops, effectively pulling him on top of her. Harry grinned at her response to him as the bed creaked beneath the weight of his knees sinking into the mattress. Harry pushed her shirt up to reveal her bare breasts to his greedy eyes and lips. However, as her hands made to pull his own black t-shirt over his head, Harry dragged his lips away and back to her neck before finally giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. “As amazing as this feels and how much I really really want to continue—you have no idea, trust me—” Harry said with a look of regret, “Sirius is in the kitchen. I just wanted to let you know so you didn't come in here naked or anything.” He said with a mischievous grin.

Hermione's eyes widened and she abruptly pushed him away, pulling her shirt back down. “Why didn't you say something!?” She hissed. “Here I am, attempting to have my wicked way with you, “She said with heated cheeks, “And he's probably at the door, listening!”

Harry laughed. “He doesn't strike me as someone interested in voyeurism.” Harry said with a cocked eyebrow. “But I'm sorry. When Hermione Granger attempts to `have her wicked way with me,' well…I am merely a hot blood bloke, Hermione. Resistance isn't exactly my trademark quality, especially when it comes to you and your yummy skin everywhere.”

Hermione's blush deepened and she pushed him towards the door. “He probably thinks we're having sex! Get back out there. Can I get a shower? Merlin, I'm a mess!” Hermione said, dragging a hand through her long mane of messy brown hair. Harry couldn't help but smile at how adorable she looked, all frantic in front of him. She caught him staring with a silly grin on his face and her eyes bugged slightly. “Go!”

Harry was halfway pushed through the door before Hermione suddenly jerked him back. She roughly pulled his lips down to hers in a quick, hard kiss before sending him back on his way. Harry laughed loudly as he walked back to the kitchen.

Sirius was sitting at the bar, thumbing through a Quidditch magazine sitting in front of him. He eyed Harry with a knowing smile, taking in the goofy grin and slightly messier-than-usual hair. “So how's the not having sex thing working out, mate?” He asked conversationally, looking back down at his magazine.

***

Hermione rushed through her shower, a grin playing on her lips. Last night she had been sexy. She had been daring. She giggled quietly to herself at the reaction she had brought out in her boyfriend.

And she loved it. She had never felt so shy and confident at the same time. It had been scary, doing these new things she didn't know how to do. It had been nerve-wracking, letting Harry do things to her that evoked embarrassing responses from her that she had no control over. It had felt naughty and kind of dirty, actually doing those things and getting them done to her.

Hermione never thought of herself as sexy, but the way Harry's eyes darkened while staring her with obvious lust, the way he had gotten a…the way she had felt…it…through his pants, then actually the real thing…Hermione knew her face was beet red, even here alone in the shower. She loved that awkward but gratifying response she got from him. It was because of her.

Hermione wasn't a complete dunce to sex, or even sexual things. She was a normal, curious teenage girl. She had done her own self-exploration in that area. But having Harry do those things to her, it made it feel so much…better. Her reaction the night before—all but jumping out of her skin when she had orgasmed from his fingers doing wonderful things down south—had surprised her just as much as it had surprised him. It had never been like that before.

While it was awkward and embarrassing in a shy way, Hermione could tell Harry had been extremely pleased with himself. Hell, she would have faked it if it made him feel that good because she loved that he felt confident and slightly amazed by his own abilities. Had he really made her do that? `Um, yes.' Hermione thought to herself with a wicked smirk, `And please, please do it again!'

Hermione threw her head back and laughed under the water at her bold thoughts. Where were her boundaries? Harry melted them with just one look. It wasn't exactly inappropriate for her to explore this new territory, she convinced herself. They had been together for around three months now. And even before they had gotten together, they had wanted each other, maybe even been in love then. No, this was completely normal, right?

She was quickly discovering the thrills of sex—or sexual things, so far. The two of them were learning fast, making up for being such novices in this type of thing. But she was eighteen, almost nineteen. And Harry would be eighteen in a matter of a few days. They were old enough for this type of thing. As Hermione made one final turn under the hot water, a smile formed on her lips. Here almost on the brink of Harry's birthday, Hermione's mind fantasized mischievously as she wondered just how far her boldness could go.

Once she got dressed and made her way to the kitchen, Harry and Sirius were talking—surprise surprise—Quidditch over breakfast. Hermione sat down at her plate beside Harry.

“Ah, there she is! Good morning, Hermione!” Sirius said with a big smile.

Hermione grinned back, trying to keep her blushing to a minimum as she could only guess what assumptions Sirius had made about their vacation so far. Lucky for her, after a few questions about how she had been liking the scenery and the water, Hermione was off the hook to enjoy her breakfast while the two blokes continued their Quidditch talk.

Once Sirius left, saying he'd be back in a few days because they would be celebrating Harry's birthday here as per Lily's decision, it was a little after one in the afternoon. Hermione had finished cleaning up while the two boys had played a few rounds of video games. The interaction between Harry and Sirius made Hermione smile as she had spied on them from the doorway. She was glad Harry had someone like him in his life, and there was no doubt there was love between the two. It made Hermione a little jealous, but in a wistful way and not altogether negative.

“So what do you want to do?” Harry asked, stretching and getting off the couch, though he already knew what they were going to do.

Hermione shrugged. “Is it warm enough to swim?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, but we'll get to that. Go change into jeans and trainers.” Harry instructed, looking around for his own shoes.

Hermione looked down at her dark carpis and flip flops with a frown. “What's wrong with this?”

Harry winked. “Trust me. Sirius gave me a good idea for the day. I told you I've been planning a surprise. We'll go look off the top of the cliffs.”

Wordlessly, Hermione returned to Harry's bedroom and changed as he had asked—or more demanded. Once she walked back into the living room, it was empty. Suddenly, a loud roar came from the direction of the front of the property. Then again, as if someone was revving an engine up. After looking around again to ensure her boyfriend was no longer in the house, Hermione had the suspicion that it was Harry making that racket. She opened the door, a feeling of slight apprehension snaking into her stomach. That certainly didn't sound like Harry's car.

***

And we're driving just as fast as we can
and we're racing to outrun the wind
It's just me and you and you and me
so wild eyed, so young, bright eyed and free
And we're trying to get out of here
and a small town romance draws ever near
And I swear we're in a movie
the highlight comes when you kiss me

And the stereo sings our song
We don't hesitate to sing along

Drive to dream to live, we could see the world tonight
Here to hope tomorrow we could see the world

“Autobahn” ANBERLIN

So what did you guys think!? My birthday is next week so *cough cough* review for my birthday present to me! Haha. I hope you guys all loved it. For those who don't like the…intimate scenes haha, don't worry they aren't going to be in every chapter. Right now, they are just being, well, their age haha and trying to be normal. Plus, they are making memories. They are going to need them later!!!!

REVIEW!!!!

Until next time—less than two weeks, I promise!

*~Archie~*

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Hey everyone. Here's the new chapter! Thanks for all the awesome birthday wishes and reviews! Much appreciated! Disclaimer: I own nothing except Cliffinshire. Hehe.

I will reply to reviews tomorrow, gotta get ready for work!

CHAPTER THREE: Trouble In Paradise

You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream
The way you turn me on, I can't sleep
Let's runaway and don't ever look back
Don't ever look back

My heart stops when you look at me
Just one touch, now baby I believe
This is real, so take a chance
And don't ever look back, don't ever look back

We drove to Cali and got drunk on the beach
Got a motel and built a fort out of sheets
I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece
I'm complete

“Teenage Dream” KATY PERRY

***

“No.” Hermione said matter-of-factly as she stood ten feet from Harry, who was leaning casually against a black motorcycle—its roar vibrating in her ears.

Harry gave her an impish grin, but said nothing.

Hermione shook her head. “I'm not getting on that death-trap with you, Potter, end of story. Moving on. New activity.” She said with a shrug, holding fast to her defiance.

Still grinning, Harry casually strode forward and began placing the helmet on her head and fastening it under her chin. Next, he held out a thick, black padded ridding jacket for her to put on.

“NO!” She repeated, stepping back.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh come on now, you know you are going to. How is this much different than taking a ride of my Firebolt? At least here you don't have to worry about falling!” Harry argued strategically.

Hermione shook her head. “No, but in the air you don't have to worry about hitting passing cars either, now do you?! Plus, you're an excellent flyer.” She added defensively, glaring at the offending motorbike doubtfully.

Harry threw his head back and laughed. “I'm an excellent rider too. I told you before I've been messing around on Sirius's bike since I was fourteen. Please, just trust me? You'll love it.” He guaranteed, smiling.

Hermione was still apprehensive, though her resolve was slowly crumbling. The idea did sound alluring in a dangerous, sexy way. Riding on the back of a motorcycle…that was something she never thought she would do.

Harry could tell her determination to stay away from the bike was waning, so he took his chance to slowly help her put on the riding jacket. Once he had her zipped in safely, he stood back to admire his handy work. “You look smashing!” He chuckled.

Hermione felt bulky and weighted down. “Where's yours?” She asked accusingly.

“On you. That's my helmet and jacket. I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about.” Harry replied nonchalantly. “I rarely wear it anyway.”

Hermione looked like she was going to argue, but Harry silenced her with a quick kiss and whispered, “Please, let me have my way just this once?”

Huffing indignantly, Hermione stomped over to the motorcycle. “Well get on with it then. And you had better go slow. And be careful. And you should really be wearing a helmet and protection.” She eyed his jeans and black t-shirt dubiously.

Harry ignored her and hopped on the bike, revving it up for good measure as he put on his sunglasses. Hermione almost turned around and ran.

Almost.

The new, daring side of her, however, was practically giddy with excitement. With Harry's assistance, she climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms in a death grip around his middle. She could feel the vibrations under her bottom, warning her of the sheer power of this engine she was practically riding on. An engine with a seat atop and handle bars.

But she trusted Harry. He loved her, and she knew he would not intentionally endanger her life.

She felt Harry give her hand a squeeze for encouragement before kicking it in first gear and slowly—for her benefit, she was sure—easing forward. Just as she was about to relax her grip just the tiniest bit, Harry went into second and jerked forward. Hermione held on tighter and let out a small scream, which only caused Harry to snicker with laughter and speed up. Hermione closed her eyes, holding on for dear life. “I'm going to kill you, Potter!” She yelled over the motorcycle's roar.

Harry seemed to get the idea that Hermione was completely terrified, so he let off the gas and slowed down some, and eased into the gears instead of popping the clutch. “Calm down, I'm sorry.” He called behind him, though Hermione could hear the mirth in his voice.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione opened one eye, and then the other. They were cruising easily down one of the roads in Cliffinshire. They came to a stop, and Harry balanced the bike perfectly as his feet touched the ground. Then they were off again. As Harry leaned into a turn, Hermione shut her eyes again, sure they were going to fall over. But no, Harry's technique was smooth and very much in control.

“So what do you think?” He asked, turning onto another street Hermione recognized.

What did she think? The wind whipped her air all around her, even in the ponytail she had it in. She wished she had plaited it or something. The riding jacket kept her warm but not overly toasted. Her eyes watered a little bit from the wind. And the view…

Wow. Hermione fear was still very much there, but it was quickly being stomped into the ground by the enjoyment it was to ride like this. She was reminded very much of her rides on his Firebolt. Just as easily as he navigated his broomstick, Harry controlled the bike as well. The passing wind, the adrenaline from ride itself…Hermione couldn't believe how much she loved this.

“I wish I had brought my sunglasses.” She responded with a laugh.

“Oh shit!” Harry cursed. “I knew I was forgetting something. Here, we'll stop real quick.” Harry effortlessly turned onto a road that Hermione knew led to a small row of different merchants and tents that sold various items. It reminded Hermione of gypsies. Harry pulled to a stop, cut the engine, and allowed for Hermione to find her way back to the ground before hopping off the bike himself.

As soon as Harry was off the motorcycle, Hermione let him have it. She had her hands balled up into fists and began half-heartedly punching his chest. “What were you thinking?! Taking off like that! Were you trying to get us killed?!” She asked, eyes slightly bugged.

Harry grabbed her wrists to stop her from hitting him anymore as he laughed at her reaction. “I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I'll do better, I promise. I want you to feel safe with me.” He said with a grin. “Besides that unfortunate bit, what did you think?”

A smile of her own fought its way onto her face. She couldn't hide it. “It was bloody amazing!” She admitted, hugging herself.

Harry threw his head back and let out a hoot of laughter. “I knew you'd love it. I knew it!” He picked her up and spun her around, his lips somehow finding hers in the dizziness. After almost tripping over his own feet, Harry finally put her back down and righted her. He clasped their hands together and tugged Hermione in the direction of the small sales tent. “Let's get you some sunglasses.”

They looked around each small tent, seeing if anything tickled their fancies. They had already gone through here twice before, so by this time there weren't a whole lot of new things to look at. They found a tent that sold sunglasses, and after trying on several ones, Hermione settled on brown tinted ones with larges lens and a wire frame with zebra stripes on the sides.

Getting back on the bike with less apprehension this time, Hermione secured her arms around Harry's middle and held tight. They rode mostly in silence around Cliffinshire before exiting the city limits. As their speed increased, Hermione silently wished Harry would have worn a helmet. Harry didn't seem to mind, however. Hermione watched as his tanned, muscled arms maneuvered each and every curve perfectly. Despite the speed, Hermione somehow felt safe in a dangerous way.

They climbed higher and higher up a slightly inclined road that Hermione figured led to the top of the cliffs. She was surprised at how fast they had reached the top. Once they reached a small landing with a fence that kept people from getting too close to the edge, Harry stopped and helped her off the bike again. Hermione went to the fence and took a death breath before looking as far down as she could.

They were high up, but not as high as Hermione had thought. The tide pulled the waves against the rock, crashing mercilessly on the stone. “This is really pretty.” Hermione said, taking a deep breath to inhale the salt in the air. She had grown accustom to it, but sometimes it still took her by surprise. She welcomed the odd scent, simply fusing it to Harry as one more thing that reminded her of him.

“It's okay. We're still going up.” He said with a grin.

Hermione looked around. “The road ended. I don't think we're driving any further, at least.” She remarked, figuring Apparation was the plan.

Harry led her back to the motorbike. “No, we're still getting there by the bike. Hop back on. I just wanted you to see it from here first.”

Slightly leery now, Hermione got back on behind her boyfriend. The biked roared to life. Harry looked around to the emptiness around them then opened a secret compartment Hermione hadn't noticed under the speedometer that held two buttons. He hit the first switch. “Invisibility booster.” Harry called, knowing she must be wondering. Hermione looked around them, but everything still seemed normal. “Hold on.” Harry warned before hitting a second button.

The bike shook slightly even more than usual and began to rise first five then ten and soon twenty feet in the air. Hermione felt her breath catch somewhere in her throat. He had never told her that the bike did this. Careful not to lurch forward too quickly, Harry barely touched the gas and propelled them forward. They gained speed and were soon flying around in a big circle, rising higher and higher.

Hermione's stomach was still on the ground. Now she was really reminded of Harry's Firebolt. She could hear her heart hammering in her ears, and she was surprised Harry wasn't crying out from her fingernails digging into him through his t-shirt.

Harry circled around another cliff, the highest one in sight before making a smooth landing in the middle on a flat rock. Turning the bike off once again, they got to their feet. Harry had to practically drag Hermione to the edge. “I'm not going to let you fall.” He assured her, pointing out over the cliff.

Hermione took a deep breath before stepping out as far as she dared.

Then she gasped. She could literally see everything. The entire town was at her feet, bustling about on their day-to-day, no idea Hermione's eyes were watching. Cars and bikes droves down the streets as children played with each other, their laughter too soft to reach Hermione this high up. She watched the growing-familiar town with a serene expression on her face, despite her fear of heights.

“Now look out over here. It's even better.” Harry said, gesturing towards the water. Hermione followed him, excited for the new view.

Breathtaking. Hermione watched the water, no longer gray in the sunlight, dance along the sand and rocks. It looked like small diamonds on the surface. People were out in the ocean, swimming and surfing. Children ran along the beach with sand pails in their hands, splashing in the water. Hermione moved her vision to the other side, and saw a scene similar to the one from last cliff—rocks jutting out from the water and waves rolling over them as they stood solemn and unmoving.

As her words failed to articulate the beauty before her eyes, Harry seemed to understand. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. “This used to be my favorite view in Cliffinshire.” He said, and Hermione could hear the playfulness in his voice.

Already knowing his answer, she asked anyway, “Used to be?”

Harry kissed her cheek again. “Now it's you.”

His words were simple, and Hermione almost smiled and blushed like she normally would have.

Instead, turned to face him with a laugh and rolled her eyes. “That was cheesy, Potter. Very bleeding corny.”

Harry nodded. “I know. I can't get away with saying stuff like that, can I?” He asked, taking each of her hands in his own and pulling her away from the edge.

Hermione hugged him gently. “I dunno. Maybe sometimes, I guess. We'll just have to see.”

Harry laughed, pulling out his beeping phone. He replied to a text from Draco before looking back up at his girlfriend. “Okay, we'll play it by ear. In the meantime…” Harry went over to the bike, reached into one of the saddle bags and pulled out Hermione's camera. “Thought you might want to document this.”

Hermione took several pictures at every angle she could. Some with her, some with Harry, some with both of them. “Thanks for bringing me here.” Hermione said as they climbed back on the bike.

“No problem. I knew you'd love it. We'll come back, no worries.” He promised as he lifted them back in the air. “Ron and Draco will be meeting us soon, by the way.” He called over his shoulder.

***

Half an hour later, the two could be found at a small local restaurant, eating lunch and waiting for their companions to join them. Hermione was looking at the pictures on her camera, choosing a few she wanted to send to her parents. As they talked over their food, Ron's voice interrupted them.

“Ah, `ello, `ello, `ello.” He greeted, pulling up a chair next to Hermione. He picked up her chocolate shake and began to guzzle it down. Once it was gone, he shook his head with his eyes squeeze shut. “Brain freeeeze. Could have warned me, couldn't you have?” He whined, looking accusingly at Hermione.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “I don't remember you asking to have any.” She snatched the cup from his grasp, looking to see if there was any left.

“Ron.” Harry nodded. “Always a pleasure.” Harry pushed his water towards Hermione with a smile, offering it to her.

“Don't worry,” Draco said as he sat down beside Harry, “I think Ron was just about to offer to buy you a new one—along with another order of chips.” He said, nodding towards Ron's mouthful of Hermione chips.

Ron chewed and swallowed his stolen food before giving a nod. “Of course. Where is the lady? Anything you want, Hermione!” Ron looked around for the waitress.

Hermione pushed her plate in front of Ron, allowing him to finish her food. “A new shake would be nice.”

“So how have you blokes been? How's the shop? How's Quidditch?” Harry asked, leaning back in his chair and looking at his two best mates.

“Training hard as ever. Ready for a little vacation.” Draco said, looking through the menu.

Through a mouthful of food, Ron replied, “Shops good. Thought it would be a little easier, seeing as how I'm their brother. But nope—I get all the nasty work. If I let them test new products on me, though, I get a bonus. Had three-inch pink nails for a week, but the pay was brilliant.” Ron shared, finishing the rest of Hermione's food.

Hermione shook her head. “Do you have no shame? You let them do that to you? For money?” She clarified.

Ron nodded. “Easiest money I ever made—better than actually working. Do you know how many wankers there are out there? Smartass little buggers, the lot of them. We were never that annoying!” Ron assured them.

Hermione laughed. “Knowing you now…somehow it wouldn't surprise me if you were worse.”

Ron responded to her remark by putting his hand up between them. “Oh please.” He retorted. “I can only imagine the nightmare you were as a child. Too smart for your own good, toeing the line…what a fantastic bore.” He teased.

Hermione shrugged. “Better than a felon, I'd say.”

Draco intervened. “Hey, hey, hey, I resent that remark. We were never felons.”

“Resent or resemble?” Hermione taunted with a smirk.

Bantering back and forth between Ron and Draco was refreshing, Hermione realized. While she loved Harry, it was nice to talk to someone else sometimes too. Being cooped up together for so long, Ron and Draco's presence was welcomed—for the moment anyway, until Ron started annoying the hell out of her.

“I was a little surprised to get your text. I was under the impression you blokes wouldn't be joining us until my birthday.” Harry said, polishing off the rest of his pathetic salad and washing it down with water.

Ron shrugged. “Draco wanted to come today. Fred and George were fine with me taking a few days off.”

Everyone looked at Draco for a response, but he was looking at the key he was fiddling with in his hand. Finally, after a few beats of silence, he looked to see three sets of eyes on him. “Oh, you know…house getting a little unbearable. Plus, couldn't resist the call of the beach, of course. And stealing Harry's car.” He held up the key in his hand.

Harry made to grab the key from his mate, but Draco was too fast. “Hey, you're driving the bike. Your car isn't needed.” Draco said defensively.

Harry rolled his eyes. “So how's the great and fancy Malfoy Manor becoming unbearable?” Harry asked, settling back into his seat.

Hermione noticed a hint of uneasiness pass through Draco's gray eyes before he opened his mouth to answer, but was saved from replying when an Australian-accented voice interrupted him from behind. “Hiya, Harry—Ron, Draco!” A boy of maybe fourteen greeted them, coming up to the table. He had blonde hair styled into a fohawk and a tan face. A bright smile shone on his face.

“Graham. How are you doing, mate?” Ron asked with a grin.

“Fit as ever, as usual.” He said cockily, gesturing towards his toned and tanned arms and legs in his tank top and shorts. Confidence and cockiness pulsed from him.

“I see you've managed to find some sun in all this rain.” Harry laughed. “Enjoying the summer?”

“Of course. Been living on the beach when I can. You know my style. Someone has to oil up all the girls out there.” He winked, causing the three older blokes to laugh.

“Graham, this is Hermione, Hermione, this is Graham. He moved here from Australia a few years ago. We've gotten to know the arrogant little wanker over the couple summers. He's a surfer. Actually…we might be hitting the waves today,” Harry looked over at Ron and Draco to make sure they were okay with it, and they shrugged and nodded in response. “You going to be out there? Hermione here is a surfing virgin so she'll need a few pointers. Who better to help than the best surfer on the beach?” Harry laughed, gesturing towards his young friend.

Eyes bright with excitement, Graham nodded. “Yeah, yeah. When will you be out? Usual spot?”

“Probably a little father down—less crowd so Hermione will have more space to learn. Let's say…an hour?” Harry replied, looking at the clock on the wall.

“Sounds great, mate. See you out there!” The blonde turned around and rushed out the door, clearly excited.

“This should be fun.” Ron said, taking a swig of Hermione's new chocolate shake, causing her to kick him under the table in the shin. “Dammit woman! I'm paying for the bleeding thing!” Ron said, shoving the drink back towards Hermione.

Half an hour later, the four of them were back at Sirius's garage. “We'll get the boards loaded up, do you want to pack some food in this cooler?” Harry asked, wheeling a blue cooler towards Hermione.

“Okay.” She agreed, taking the handle from him. “We're going to need to go grocery shopping here maybe tonight or tomorrow.” Hermione said, remembering they were running low on a few things.

Harry nodded in acknowledgement as he pulled out his wand. Using a Summoning Charm, he pulled down a black surf board with green flames from the loft up top, which Draco caught easily. Hermione followed Draco from the garage. Draco leaned the board up against the outside then headed back into the garage to help with the others while Hermione turned for the house.

She changed into her swim suit first. As she started at her reflection in the mirror, Hermione felt a growing sense of uneasiness. Being in front of Harry in a swim suit was nothing now—she had been in less even. On the beach, she didn't know anyone and knew no one was paying any attention to her anyway, so it didn't bother her too much either. Now with Ron and Draco here…Hermione felt awkward. She knew they obviously wouldn't be ogling her or anything, but there was still a slight feeling of apprehension. “Oh, get over it, Granger.” Hermione told her reflection. Even as she said it, however, she changed from her modest two-piece to her even more modest two-piece tankini swim suit instead. She pulled on a tank top and shorts, grabbed flip flops, and headed for the kitchen.

Hermione had sandwiches and fruit packed in the cooler with various drinks. A simple Cooling Charm kept everything chilled. Towels, sun screen, and—despite knowing she wouldn't need it but taking it away—a book were packed in her beach back. The three boys were changing into their own bathing suits while Hermione waited.

“Where's the money jar?” Ron asked, looking atop the fridge where it normally sat. Hermione opened a cupboard and produced a clear jar with wads of Muggle money in it Hermione and Harry had adding to for various things: food, toilet paper, and all the necessities they needed. Harry had bought the first round of everything, so Hermione had been stubborn about making sure she had bought the next round. Now, they were splitting the cost and just added money to the jar—something the boys always did when they stayed at Sirius's house despite Sirius's insistence on it not being necessary. Harry told Hermione that Sirius would insist on buying the necessities and if the boys wanted something extra special, then they could use their money from the jar. Ron opened the money jar and tossed in another couple rolls of money. Draco walked in and handed Ron a handful of notes to add for himself. “When we go shopping, we definitely need to pick up some ice cream. And candy. Maybe some cake too. Can you bake cookies?” Ron asked with an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

Hermione took the jar from his hands and replaced it in the cupboard. “Harry is on a diet. How about a fruit salad?”

Ron looked outraged. “What is this fruit you speak of?! I'm not on a diet!” He pulled out a small bottle and tucked it in Hermione's bag.

Hermione laughed. “We'll see how it goes.”

“Ready?” Harry asked from the door way, and they all nodded. Hermione grabbed her beach bag while Draco pulled the cooler along.

Outside was one of the funniest things Hermione had ever seen. Strapped to the top of Harry small car were four long surf boards. “Where did you get the luggage rack?” Hermione asked, noticing the new addition.

Harry winked. “Not sure. Must have been magic.”

They drove down the beach, to a spot where Draco told Hermione was the best for surfing in these waters. Hermione looked over her shoulder to Ron and Draco in the back seat, lounging comfortably despite the space that shouldn't be there. For the thousandth time in her life, Hermione marveled at being so lucky as to have magic a part of her life. Harry squeezed her hand that was interlaced with his. “What are you thinking?”

Hermione smiled. “Sometimes, I feel like magic is just cheating, you know?” She replied, looking back at the extra space in the back seat again.

Harry laughed. “My mum feels the same way—that's why she always made me do chores and other things without it. I never really realized why. I mean, why make me do it when she could just wave her wand and be done with it? But it's made me appreciate having magic in my life, so yeah, I understand.” Harry grinned.

Hermione nodded silently in response. Lilly sounded so smart and practical. Harry always talked highly of her. She would be here soon, Hermione knew. She mentally crossed her fingers that she would make a better impression this time around with Harry's mother.

Hermione carried their beach bag as each boy got their own surf board, Ron and Harry carrying a second one between the two while Draco pulled the cooler along. Graham was already there in the water. He waved before hopping back on his board to paddle out into the ocean.

Once their towels were out, Hermione told them all to line up so she could spray them with sunscreen. Ron pulled out the bottle he had put in her bag in the kitchen. “Could you get my back?” He asked, holding the bottle to her.

Hermione smiled. “Have your own special blend, Weasley?” She teased.

Ron laughed. “I'm a ginger. I've got to protect this alabaster skin of mine! This potion does the trick.” He winked. Hermione quickly rubbed his back down with the potion before handing him the bottle to finish the rest of him.

“Need me to rub something on you now?” Ron asked innocently, a playful look in his eyes.

Harry coughed and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend possessively from behind. He nuzzled his nose against her neck. “Back up there, mate. I think I've got that one covered.” Harry laughed, biting her earlobe.

Blushing at his blatant display of affection, Hermione regretfully shrugged him off. “I just need sprayed, Potter. Don't get too excited.” She laughed.

Harry watched as Hermione shed her tank top and shimmied out of her shorts, obvious desire dancing in his eyes. “Can I rub you anyway?” He breathed, pulling her back into his embrace.

Still red-faced, Hermione pulled away again and snatched up the can of sun screen. “Hey Draco, do you mind?” She called, offering him the can.

“Hey!” Harry chuckled, making a grab for the sunscreen but Draco already had it in his hand.

“Sorry mate. Too slow. Maybe Ron needs help with rubbing that potion of his on his nips or something.” The blonde said with a shrug, motioning for Hermione to extend her arms.

Both Ron and Harry pulled a disgusted face at Draco's suggestion.

“Let's just hit the water, if that's alright?” Harry said with a raised eyebrow.

***

Crashed on the floor when I moved in
This little bungalow with some strange new friends
Stay up too late, and I'm too thin
We promise each other it's 'til the end
Now we're spinning empty bottles
It's the five of us
With pretty eyed boys girls die to trust
I can't resist the day
No, I can't resist the day

Jenny screams out and it's no pose
'Cause when she dances she goes and goes
Beer through the nose on an inside joke
And I'm so excited, I haven't spoken
And she's so pretty, and she's so sure
Maybe I'm more clever than a girl like her
Summer's all in bloom
Summer is ending soon

“White Houses” VANESSA CARLTON

***

Hermione was a right terrible at this. She had been in the water for over an hour, and despite instructions being given to her by four different people, she wasn't getting the hang of it at all. She climbed back up on Harry's blue surf board and let Graham and Harry pushed her back out to ocean, as she hadn't mastered the art of paddling out yet. Keeping her in the shallow area still, Graham instructed her to just lie still on the board and try to keep her balance so the board didn't nosedive. Catching white water while laying on her belly, she rode the small wave into the shore again.

“Do you want to try standing again?” Harry asked, to which Hermione nodded. “Try paddling out. We'll be here to guide you.”

Hermione did as Harry instructed, and felt her arms grow tired. The churning current kept veering her into Harry, who guided her out into the ocean. Catching a lull in the waves, Hermione turned over on her board, Harry and Graham keeping it from flipping as she ungracefully shifted her weight into a kneeling position.

“Keep your knees close to your chest and remember to stay low. Keeping your center of gravity low—it will help with your balance.” Graham advised, looking up at Hermione.

Hermione nodded and clumsily popped up on her feet. The board shook carelessly under her, and she knew the only reason why she didn't go under was because Harry and Graham were supporting the board's balance.

“Stay low.” Graham repeated. “And extend your arms to keep your balance.”

Hermione did as she was told, wobbling unsteadily. The wave caught her board, and losing her balance, Hermione crashed into the water. She resurfaced a few moments later, sputtering salt water from her mouth. “This has got to be the most ridiculous thing in the world!” She cried indigently.

Harry gave her a half-smile. “Want a break?”

Hermione nodded and allowed the current to tug her back to shore. She unstrapped the stupid board from her ankle, muttering to herself.

“Calm down, it takes practice.” Harry said, picking up his board to walk back to the towels.

“No, go ahead. I know you're dying to go out there.” Hermione said, gesturing out to where Ron, Draco, and Graham were sitting on their boards, chatting. Harry grinned and kissed her on the cheek before strapping the board to his own ankle and paddling out to his mates. Hermione watched with jealousy at how eased and practiced his movements were, then huffed all the way back to her towel.

Surfers were stupid.

***

“Hey mate. How's she doing?” Draco asked, looking out at the shore where Hermione was lying on a towel.

Harry grinned. “You know her. If she can't master something in five minutes, well then piss on it!” He laughed. “She isn't doing terrible. Her balance is off. She isn't giving herself enough credit—this takes practice!”

The boys all nodded, then Draco smirked wickedly. “Think Graham fell in love, mate. Been admiring from here.” He chuckled, his eyes looking over in Hermione's direction again.

Harry chuckled. “Can't really blame him, now can I? Guilty of that one myself.”

Graham grinned. “She has a nice looking set, that's for sure.” He said, gesturing to his chest.

Draco howled with laughter. “How old are you, like thirteen?”

“Fifteen.” Graham said defensively.

“Mate…you wouldn't even know what to do with them if you had the chance for it. Better keep to things you should be doing at your age, like coloring books and nap time. Hell, I don't think even Harry here knows what to do with them.” Draco taunted his mate.

With a look of mysterious mischief, Harry winked. “I know plenty. I've gotten no complaints.”

His comments roused interest from them all.

“So what have you two been doing then?!” Ron asked, clear approval ringing in his voice.

Knowing Hermione would have his head if he divulged too many details, Harry shrugged, but his grin said it all.

“You son of a bitch! You two shagged!” Draco said, eyes wide.

Harry shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Let's just say I've been educated on parts of the female anatomy that I hadn't been so familiar with say…last month.” He said vaguely, his smile still in place.

Graham laughed. “I'd like to get acquainted with her female anatomy too, looking all sexy over there in the sun. Oh, and hers. And that blonde way down there. Can't see her face, but look at those—“ His words were cut short from Harry pushing him from his board and into the ocean.

“Are we going to sit here all day or are we going to ride some waves?” Harry asked, smirking as Graham's head broke the surface, blonde hair plastered to his head.

Hermione watched as the four blokes had their fun on their boards. Graham was by far the best surfer of the four, with Draco trailing behind him. Sipping her juice, she turned her gaze back down to her book and continued to read.

***

Hours later, exhausted from the water and a quick shopping trip, the four finally poured back into Sirius's house carrying bags of groceries and such. Hermione asked Ron and Draco to put everything away as she made her way to Harry's bedroom. She tried to brush her still-wet head, the tangles were a nightmare. She felt gross, covered in residues of salt, sunscreen, sand, and sweat.

Harry joined her and closed the door behind him. Hermione heard the lock click into place, and couldn't help the grin that fought its way onto her face. Next, the lights were cut, and Hermione could barely see anything. “Harry…” She said with warning in her voice, but it didn't stop his hands from coming up to her hips and slowly turning her around.

“Shhhh.” Harry whispered against her ear his hands crawling up her sides and taking her tank top with it. His lips found hers in the dark, kissing her forcefully, baring his unsatisfied lust.

Hermione tried to pull away, and was successful for long enough for Harry to ease her shirt and his own over their heads. She broke his kiss again. “Harry, I'm all gross. I need a shower. I stink like the ocean and am sweaty and…and Ron and Draco are in the other room.” She rambled on, but her words had no affect on him. Instead, he yanked her shorts down her legs and picked her up over his shoulder. Hermione let out a gasp and giggled as Harry swatted her bum playfully. Harry pulled her on top of him on the bed so she was straddling his hips, his hands rubbing her bare thighs.

Caught in another rough kiss, Hermione fought to try to keep her head while Harry's hand grabbed hers and guided it down his stomach to the waistband of his trunks, silently asking for her to touch him. To his disappointment, however, Hermione pushed herself off of him. “Harry, please stop. I want to take a shower.” She insisted, his hands still pawing at her.

“Take one later.” Harry suggested, fumbling for her ties on the back of her swimsuit.

Getting a little peeved at his insistence, Hermione finally said with clear irritancy in her voice, “Harry, stop!”

Harry's movements stilled immediately and his hands dropped from her body. He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “You really want me to stop?” He asked, his voice low.

“Yes!” Hermione said, exasperated. “I want to get a shower. And Ron and Draco are right in there and—” Her excuses tumbled from her lips but fell silent when she saw his expression.

Harry easily untangled his body from hers at once and got to his feet. “Okay. Go take a shower. I'll make food.” Without saying another word, he left the room, leaving Hermione feeling guilty in his bed.

Hermione took a long shower, drawing it out because she didn't want to see Harry. His expression had been one of guilt and irritation. She felt bad for getting aggravated with him, but he wasn't listening to her. `Not like you were really sticking to your guns, Granger.' She mentally said to herself. She shouldn't have gotten so annoyed, as Harry could have easily interpreted her words as a half-hearted beg off that they both knew was going to end with them under the blankets—exactly as they both wanted.

Dressed in pajama pants and one of Harry's hoodies, Hermione joined her three friends in the living room in front of the television. A bowl of food sat on the coffee table in front of an empty spot beside Harry on the couch. Hermione took her place beside him silently, and Draco flipped the television input over and a DVD menu for Law Abiding Citizen came on the screen. Curled up on the couch with her legs tucked under her, Hermione speared a piece of broccoli from the stir-fry in her bowl as the opening credit began.

Hermione cast a look over in Harry's direction, but he was staring resolutely at the television screen. Was he angry with her? By the time she had her food gone, Harry's distance was killing her. He hadn't looked her way once. Feeling fearful, Hermione moved so she had her head on lying on his lap. He didn't pull away, and draped the blanket from the back of the couch over her. “Thanks.” Hermione whispered, offering him a smile. He nodded and smiled a tight smile that didn't meet his eyes, even here in the dark she could see that.

Hermione stared at the screen, unseeing whatever was going on in the film. She could feel her heart hammering in her head. What did this mean? She and Harry had gotten into arguments—that was nothing new. But this sudden distance was scaring her. Hermione reached over for Harry's hand that was casually draped across the back of the couch and pulled it under the blankets with her. She rested his palm on against her breast over the hoodie she was wearing. She squeezed his hand against her, trying to silently tell him it was okay. She wasn't mad. And she hoped he wasn't either.

After a few seconds, Harry moved his hand away and replaced it on the back of the couch. Hurt, Hermione fixed her gaze on the screen, forcing herself not to cry even though she felt the urge to all of a sudden.

By the middle of the film, both Ron and Harry had fallen asleep. Hermione was lulling herself when Draco's movements of getting out of the chair he was reclined in snapped her out of it. Hermione raised her head from Harry's lap, and watched Draco head for the direction of the loo. A few minutes later, he returned only to go to the door and head outside.

Hermione slowly got up and looked out the window. He was sitting on the porch, staring out at the darkness.

Hermione eased the door open, “Something wrong?” She whispered, joining him on the porch.

“I thought you were asleep too.” Draco replied with a small chuckle.

Hermione shook her head. “What are you doing?”

Draco shrugged. “Nothing. Just…nothing.” He responded softly.

Tentatively , Hermione reached out and placed her hand on his. “Something's wrong. If you want to talk about it…” She trailed off, leaving her offer hanging in the darkness between them.

Draco squeezed her hand. “It's nothing. Just…stuff at home.”

Hermione waiting silently for him to continue, her hand still in his. Hermione looked down and wondered if she should feel guilty. Was it wrong to hold hands like this with him? Her hand hesitantly drew back. She remembered the possible attraction she had felt fleetingly towards him the night he rescued her from the boathouse. He was still as gorgeous as ever. She still felt like he was too good for all the girls that liked to surround him. However, at the moment, his usual suave demeanor was tinged with the slight hint of vulnerability—something Draco Malfoy never showed. Hermione felt concern pump through her.

As she took all this in, her hand involuntarily found his again. “Tell me.” She told him simply. “You can trust me with whatever demons you're fighting.” She assured him, knowing it must be something big if he was showing weakness.

Draco looked down at their clasped hands, and Hermione could tell he was thinking along the same lines as she had, considering the morality of this innocent touch between two friends. He didn't draw his hand away, however.

“He's…” Draco began, but stopped. Starting again, he cleared his throat. “My parents…they're back into it. I mean, I've always known that they were with Voldemort the first time, but they begged off on bewitchment. I believed them when they told me that. I really did. But over the years...well, I realized it had been lies. Just with their actions—mostly my father's. My mother…she just does whatever he wants her to. They let them into our house. I never saw Voldemort, but others…well-known Death Eaters. Even my Aunt Bellatrix who was in Azkaban. She tried to convert me, like…like it was going to happen anyway. I just walked into the kitchen and met the aunt I've only heard stories about, casually leaning up against the counter with a dagger in her hand.” Draco sighed.

“And for weeks, my parents never acknowledged this...change, I guess. I just pretended to not notice these extra people in the manor. My parents and everyone talked of him. He may have even been in the house a few times, but I tried to stay away the most I could. My aunt, she told me…she told me I was wasting my time with my training. `There are other things you should be learning, Draco. More important things than this silly game.'” He said, mimicking a high-pitched voice. “She and my mother got into it. My mum…she's trying to protect me. Finally…she talked about it. She told me she told the Dark Lord that I'm not ready yet. She's stalling. So…I just…left. I'm not going back. He can't punish them if I'm not there anymore, right? If I just left…he can't hurt them for me not joining him like it's their fault. It's mine.” Was he trying to convince Hermione, or himself?

Hermione could hear the guilt in his voice. She felt her heart go out to him. Hermione pulled him into a reassuring hug. She felt him wrap his arms around her, and if she wasn't mistaken, he was shaking a little in her arms.

“I can't save them, Hermione.” He choked out. “I can't do anything. I begged my mother to come with me, but she wouldn't. She just…just stared at me, like it was breaking her heart that I was leaving, but she didn't try to stop me. I…I feel like she's trapped…trapped in this twisted game, and if she tried to get out…he'll kill her, Hermione. He'll kill her.” Hermione felt his tears on her neck, and her own eyes began to sting. She felt completely helpless, so she just clutched him tighter.

“This isn't your fault, Draco. They…they made their choice a long time ago.” She drew away and held his tear-streaked face in her hands. “You're good, Draco. You're so good. You aren't like them, I don't care what your aunt told you. It isn't going to happen—I won't let it.” She kissed his forehead roughly as she pulled him back in her arms. His parents had a good chance of dying. And he left them there to die, to save himself -not in a sense of his life, but in the aspect of not letting their evilness corrupt him.

“I don't know what to do, Hermione.” He cried into her chest. “I…” His voice caught in his throat. “I…I've never felt so helpless. I can't save them.” He repeated his earlier words in a whisper as his tears stopped.

Hermione pulled away to look at him in his gray eyes, searching for the words he needed to hear.

She had nothing. Nothing to help him. Nothing to save his parents. She had her own battles with the darkness that tried to corrupt her, so she knew how scary it was. She knew how shameful it felt to question your own integrity in that aspect.

Draco just stared at her, looking for answers she couldn't give. Hermione opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“Draco…I know it's hard to hear but…Draco, they picked their side. And you've picked yours. Everything else…you just have to have Hope that things will work out in the end.” She said, filling the air with an empty promise they both knew couldn't be delivered on.

Draco leaned forward and pressed his lips against Hermione's cheek, lingering for a few seconds too long, perhaps. Still close with his hand on the side of her face, he smiled one of his special smiles for her that told Hermione that she was different than all the other girls in his life. “You're amazing, Hermione. Harry is…so incredibility lucky to have you.” Draco said wistfully.

“I know.”

Hermione jerked back suddenly that she almost fell off the porch. Harry opened the screen door and stepped out on the porch. His expression was hard and his eyes blazed with anger.

He reached down and helped Hermione to her feet. As soon as she was steady, he released her. His eyes were trained on Draco, who got to his own feet slowly. “Hey mate.” Draco greeted, measuring Harry's anger with calculating eyes.

Hermione wanted to blurt out that it wasn't what it looked like, but found no words. Draco wasn't denying anything either. There was nothing to admit to. They hadn't done anything wrong.

The look on Harry's face said otherwise, however.

“It's late.” Harry responded, his voice even. “Thinking about going to bed soon, Hermione?” He asked, though his gaze was still on Draco.

Full of trepidation, Hermione nodded silently. She wanted to get her boyfriend away from Draco right away. Harry opened the screen door for Hermione. She stepped into the house, and after a few edgy seconds of Harry and Draco measuring each other with expressions full of tension, Harry followed.

Hermione led the way into the bedroom without saying a word. She crawled into bed and under the blankets, still feeling fearful. Was he going to yell at her? Accuse her of doing something inappropriate with his best mate? She wished he would say something! She remembered him going off in the Entrance Hall back at Hogwarts when he thought something had happened between her and Draco back then. Add this didn't exactly look good on her part.

Instead, he got into bed beside her and rolled over so his back was to her. Trembling slightly, Hermione scooted over so she was spooned up against him in the dark. She let her hand gently caress his bare back before moving over his hip to his taunt stomach. She could feel the muscles contract under her feather-light touch. Her lips found his shoulder and kissed across his back while her hand first rubbed circles on his chest then ventured south. She could feel his arousal, and just as she was beginning to feel like everything might be okay, his hand covered hers and pushed her away.

Irritation flared inside Hermione. “Nothing happened.” She said, her voice already defensive.

Harry didn't reply. Hermione reached out touch his shoulder again, but Harry shrugged her off.

“Stop it.” He said, his voice holding a warning.

“Harry, will you please just listen for a second?” Hermione asked, not bothering to keep the annoyance from her voice. She tried to turn him around.

“Stop touching me.” Harry growled, his own anger filtering into his tone.

“Why are you acting like this?” Hermione felt an urge to hex the hell out of him. She grabbed her wand, but instead of turning in on her boyfriend, she put a Silencing Charm on the room, knowing it might get loud. She was not going to let him go to sleep angry.

Throwing all hesitation out the window, Hermione scrambled over his body so she was on top of him. She wrestled for position and had his hands on either side of his face. “Stop ignoring me.” She said angrily.

Harry didn't put up a fight, and let Hermione trap him beneath her.

For a second, anyway.

“I wanted to go to bed.” He said, wrenching his hands free. He sat up and Hermione almost toppled backward. Harry pushed her off him and went to turn on the light. “Seeing as how you are going to harp on this, then okay, what do you want to talk about? Huh? What?” Harry huffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

Hermione ungracefully got to her feet. “Why are you angry—we can start there!” She responded indignantly.

Harry let out a cold laugh. “Oh, I dunno. First you blow me off earlier, which is fine. Do you understand how terrible I felt, like I was pressuring myself on you? Then I wake up to you out in the dark getting cozy with my best mate. Trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here, but I'm not going to lie and say I'm not curious as to exactly what in the hell you two were out there doing.” His voice was low and dangerous.

Hermione was silent for a minute before saying, “You couldn't possibly think anything happened. You have to have more trust in me that than.”

Harry was silent. Even while he stood there, angry, he knew nothing happened. In his gut, he knew neither Hermione nor Draco would do that to him. Still, he didn't like the scene he walked in on. He didn't like that his best mate was confiding in his girlfriend because he had been obviously upset, instead of he himself. He shouldn't get this jealous, but after feeling so guilty prior to the whole thing, he got pissed off instantly.

Instead of saying any or all of this, however, Harry just stayed silent. Hermione also kept quiet, refusing to break eye contact. Finally, Harry threw his hands up in the air. “Well, what the fuck, Hermione? How is it supposed to make me feel? It's not that I don't trust you—you know I do. Same goes for Draco. But are you saying you wouldn't be a little upset if you walked in on me and Ginny all over each other, alone out in the dark?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We weren't all over each other, Harry. We were talking, and he was upset so I gave him a hug. That's not a crime.” Hermione huffed. Harry's word still stung, however. Had she and Draco been inappropriate? As much as she hated to admit it, had she known that Ginny and Harry had been in those roles, she'd be lying if she said she wouldn't have been upset. No, she hadn't done anything wrong, and of course she didn't feel that way about Draco. Instead, she felt protective over him in a weird way.

“I'm sorry.” Hermione finally admitted. “I…maybe it was a little inappropriate—but it was completely innocent. Nothing happened. Nothing will ever happen. He's like a brother. He's having a bad way, dealing with Voldemort and his parents…you can understand that. I just so happened to be there when he needed to talk.” Hermione said softly, taking a hesitate step forward.

Harry's resolve and anger began to crumble. He couldn't stay mad at her. He loved her so goddamn much. Feeling his anger evaporate, Harry suddenly strode forward and engulfed Hermione in a hug. “No, I'm sorry. I dunno why I can be such a jealous prat sometimes. I…I I know nothing happened. I know. I was being stupid. I trust you and Draco completely. I just know how he's been with girls in the past, and…seeing him with you, he's different, and sometimes it scares me because I don't really understand this…friendship you guys have. But it's okay.” He said meaningfully, looking half-ashamed for his actions. “And about earlier…I'm sorry. I hadn't realized you were serious. You know I'd never…I mean…if you wanted me to stop…I wasn't…I wouldn't…” Harry couldn't get his words out.

Hermione raised a single finger to his lips. “I know. And I don't blame you, I wasn't exactly…well, I mean I wasn't trying very hard to stop you. I know if you knew I wanted you to stop…you would.” Hermione confessed with a wiry smile. Hermione leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you.” She reassured him, her hand tangling in his midnight hair.

“I love you too.” Harry whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

Hermione eased out of his arms and sat down on the bed. “Get the lights?” She asked with a smile.

Harry turned them off and crawled back into bed. Hermione pulled him into a kiss. Harry kissed her back fervently, and let out a moan of approval as Hermione's hands found the front of his pajamas again.

“We don't have to do this.” Harry said, drawing away. “Go to bed.” He told her with a grin, gently shoving her hand away.

Hermione gave him a mischievous smile. “I'm suddenly not very tired anymore, Mr. Potter.” Hermione's hands caught both sides of Harry's pants and eased them down his hips at an agonizingly slow pace.

Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the sensations her hands trailing slowly across his bare skin caused him. Her hands made their way back to his stomach, and without warning, Hermione's sexy caress turned into a merciless tickle on his belly. Harry's eyes instantly opened and he bent over to stop her. He growled and caught her hands. “Bad move, Granger. Very bad move.” He warned in a low, dangerous voice full of playfulness, and Hermione knew she was in trouble.

***

Harry pulled on his pajama pants, commando, and quietly walked towards his bedroom door.

“Where you going?” Hermione mumbled, half-asleep.

“Just getting water. Go back to sleep.” Harry whispered, walking back make sure she was tucked in and he dropped a kiss on her forehead. Hermione instantly drifted off, allowing Harry to continue on his way to the kitchen.

He was surprised to see Draco sitting at the bar, eating a granola bar and drinking a soda.

“What are you doing up?” Harry asked, his voice not as friendly as he would have liked for it to be.

Draco shrugged. “Can't sleep. You?”

“Getting ready to go to sleep…thought I'd get some water.” Harry said, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sitting across from his best mate. They sat in a tense silence for a few minutes.

Finally, Draco cleared his throat. “I know how it looked, mate, but you have to know—”

Harry cut him off. “I know. I trust both of you. I know that you're having your own issues with Voldemort.” He said softly, looking over at his friend.

Draco was silent, a brooding expression on his face.

Harry pressed on, “But I'm not stupid. I know how you are with girls, and with her…you're different. You're my best mate. I don't like the way you look at her sometimes.” He kept his voice even, expressing his concern.

“I remember when you first told us about Hermione. You talked about how beautiful you thought she was.” Draco laughed. “And when we saw her, Ron and I said, yeah, she's cute, you know? Nothing special, but attractive enough. Then when we got to know her…when I got to know her…I can see it too. I see what a beautiful person she is.”

Harry listened to his mate's words, unsure where he was going—but knowing Draco wasn't making her feel any better. He felt his hand ball into a fist behind the counter.

“We were wrong. She is special. As weird as it sounds, I feel like I have a connection to her that I've never had with another girl. But it's not like that—and obviously nothing compared to you two. I just feel like we have a good understanding of each other. I mean…if you two weren't bloody perfect for each other and I actually had a shot, well, mate,” Draco joked with a laugh. “No, not even then. She's all yours. I just want a small part of her life too. She's like the sister I never had.” The blonde chuckled.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you can keep your lips off your sister then.” He gave a small smile to let his mate know he was at least half-joking.

Draco nodded. “Noted. I'm really sorry about that. It was all friendly, I swear. But in the future, it won't happen again. She's all yours.”

Harry knew Draco's words were sincere. He knew his friend had been vulnerable and was reaching out for comfort. He also knew if he happened again, he may have to hex the fuck out of him. Maybe. Harry laughed silently at that idea. He really was a jealous prat.

“We're good. Hermione made sure of that.” Harry chuckled with a wink, his gaze dropping to the countertop as a wiry grin plastered itself on his face.

Draco laughed, clearly catching Harry's meaning. The two shared a look full of perverted undertones, and Draco offered his fist to his best mate as a congratulations. Harry bumped his fist, feeling better everything was out in the open and resolved.

As their snickered quieted, Harry asked slowly, “So…do you want to talk about it?”

Well what did you think? I hope you liked it! Please review and let me know what you think!

And just to clarify…Harry was NOT trying to force himself on Hermione—she wasn't putting up a fight really, and he thought she was just flirting so in case you thought that…he isn't a scumbag!

Draco and Hermione are NOT flirting or attracted to each other, either. Draco realizes how great she is, and if Harry wasn't in the picture, then he might be interested, but he wouldn't do that to Harry so she is completely off limits in his mind. They just have a special relationship is all, which Harry is obviously having some trouble dealing with while Hermione is questioning what the boundaries are with Draco because it's new to her and feels inappropriate in some ways, especially with her relationship with Harry. Hopefully I'm conveying that well, or enough to make sense, anyway.

Stay Tuned for the next chapter—Harry's birthday!

Please review so I can come back from work with lots to read!

Thanks!

*~Archie~*

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Hey everyone! Here's the new chapter—out early even. I'm guessing I should be able to post every weekend—no more than two weeks though just in case. Like I said, posting early…despite not many telling me they are excited for the next chapter. Grr! I have a pretty empty week next week, so IF I get enough motivation, I might post once or twice next week. This one is longer than I planned, just kept getting drawn out, haha.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except Cliffinshire. Eat your heart out baby.

CHAPTER FOUR: Happy Birthday!

She's got a dirty mouth,

It tastes so clean with every taste of me

You know that every single thing she does

She does for me, because it's what I'm dreaming of
And she likes to take her time

More then fortunate, form of torture

And she likes to touch and tease

It's always fun for me, it's always unbelievable
You and me, sitting in a tree F-U-C-K-I-N-G

She'll do any naughty thing I want

My baby, she's up for anything I wanna do

She's a giver and it gets her off

My baby, she's into everything I wanna do

“Everything I Wanna Do” NICKELBACK

***

Oh what in the bleeding hell was Hermione doing?! This was not her.

But it was the new her.

But there wasn't a “new her.”

This was the old her, transformed.

Confident. Bold. Perverted. Sexy.

Hermione paced the empty bedroom in the dark, trying to find her nerve somewhere in the pit of her stomach. She picked a thin package wrapped flawlessly in blue wrapping paper with an elegant red bow she had worked on for half an hour. Harry's birthday present—tickets to a big upcoming Quidditch game Sirius had hooked her up with. Not the World Cup, but definitely better than a bleeding shaver.

Harry loved Quidditch. Harry would love the gift.

She loved Harry. He would love his second gift even more.

Maybe.

If she had the nerve.

“Oh honestly—pluck up that Gryffindor courage, Granger!” Hermione said aloud to herself in the empty room. The faces of the four walls did not comment—how utterly surprising.

Small steps. Just go in there. Nothing has to happen—okay things will definitely happen.

That doesn't have to happen—she hoped it would. She wanted it to. She think so, anyway.

Taking a calming breath, Hermione stowed Harry's tickets back in a drawer and exited the bedroom. She tip-toed down the quiet hall, careful not to make a sound. It was seven in the morning. Harry had recently returned from his morning run. He checked on her when he got back, like always, before heading for a shower. She had pretended to be asleep with her heart hammering in her chest, and as soon as she knew he was gone, jumped out of bed.

She slowly turned the knob on the door—conveniently left unlocked because Harry had no shame. Completely silent, she eased the door open just enough for her to sneak inside. Harry's back was to her in the shower; she could see the top of his shoulders and head through the glass doors of the bathtub that started out clear but gradually became frosted as they reached for the rim of the tub. Crossing her fingers, she inched the door closed again and flipped the lock, all while Harry's back was still to her and he let the water rain straight down on his face with his eyes tightly closed.

Hermione unconsciously licked her lips in anticipation. She quickly and silently undressed, leaving her long t-shirt that belonged to Harry and bright pink knickers on a pile on top of Harry's clothes. Could she get by with opening the glass door without him noticing? He looked preoccupied from what she could see between the steam of the hot water, as if trying to will the water to wash away his stress. She pushed the innate concern that immediately came to mind as to what would cause his expression to look like that. Hermione grinned wickedly. Oh she had something for his stress, alright!

The glass silently slid open just enough for Hermione to squeeze in so she was now standing behind her oblivious boyfriend, the last of the soap remnants sliding down his body. And he had doubts in her stealth skills! The smell of his shampoo and body wash caused her to involuntarily take a deep breath, simply breathing in one of the many scents that seem to be stained into his skin.

After taking in the sight of his naked bum and lovely skin still slightly lathered up with soap, she reached out to him and slid her hands up his wet back, “Happy birth—” Her declaration was cut short by Harry swinging around and hitting her in the face with flailing arms. She slipped and fell straight on her backside.

“What that—Hermione! What are you doing in here?!” Harry asked, eyes wide. “You scared the shit out of me!” He immediately helped her ungracefully to her feet.

“Ow! What the bleeding eff, Harry?!” Hermione shot back with a glare, nursing the side of her head where Harry had struck her with one hand while her other and half her arm shielded her breasts modestly from view.

Instantly concerned, Harry rushed forward, careful not to slip, and looked at her head. While Harry inspected her possible bruise, Hermione used her now-free hand to add more coverage across her chest.

“I'm sorry! You just snuck on up me there.” Harry said, unable to stop the grin from crossing his face. “Are you okay!? Is there any particular reason why you are sneaking up on me in the shower?” Harry teased.

“Well, I was trying to be sexy, but you just had to ruin that one, didn't you?” Hermione said laughing, referring to his reaction that caused her to take a tumble on her bum.

Harry laughed. “Sorry. It was unexpected—very welcomed,” Harry insisted, letting his eyes roam over her body with excitement and lust clearly shining through, “But unexpected all the same. To what do I owe this pleasure? It must be my birthday or something.” He said smoothly, pulling Hermione into his arms, tutting at her covering herself up. “Now this just won't do.” He brought her hands away from her chest and easily draped them around his neck. “Better.”

Scarlet tinged her cheeks as she let him pull her flush up against his body, her breasts touching his chest. She grinned and leaned in to kiss him sweetly on the lips while water rained down on them. “As I was trying to say…Happy Birthday, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “Harry Birthday to me, indeed,” he agreed before capturing Hermione's lips in a heated kiss.

Harry couldn't believe his luck. If he had imagined a thousand scenarios of this morning, Hermione sneaking into the tub for some morning shower fun was certainly not one of them—his imagination wasn't that good. However, having her naked here in front of him in this new venue for them, his imagination was certainly doing some impressive envisioning in the back of his mind, mostly things he believed impossible in such slippery circumstances.

The scent of her shampoo—filling the small confined space here in the shower as he massaged her hair in the foaming bubbles ensnared him even more than usual with it being stronger than ever. Hermione giggled and helped him get the soap out of her hair, as there was just too much of it. “I don't see how you ever get out of the shower!” He said, finding more bubbles at the crown of her neck.

“Forget my hair, wash my back?” She challenged, offering him her loofa.

Harry took the offending shower item and tossed it somewhere over the glass doors. “I have hands.” With a wicked grin of his own, he squirted a liberal amount of her body wash in his hand and worked up a nice lather before starting at her shoulders and working his was down to her ankles, back up her smooth shins and thighs, over the sides of hips to her breasts and arms until finally, massaging his way down her stomach towards his destination between her thighs.

A whole different kind of wetness he was quickly becoming familiar with met his fingers as he explored her with her back against his chest and his lips on her neck. Her moans were becoming louder. “This was supposed to be a present for you.” She complained, though her movements were telling him clearly not to stop his ministrations or she may very well hex him into his next birthday.

Harry gave a throaty chuckle in her ear. “I could do this all day long, and if it makes you moan like this, that's all the birthday present I need.”

In response, Hermione closed her eyes and bit her lip, her legs quivering even more. Less than a minute later, she unleashed a satisfied groan and gripped the back of Harry's neck for support in case her legs decided to give out. As she rode her instant high back to the ground, she lazily opened her eyes, dazed from her orgasm. She looked up at Harry, who was grinning cheekily at her. “Stop.” She said, rolling her eyes to cover how suddenly vulnerable she felt. She was growing to hate and love that smug look he got on his face after getting her off—an expression mixed between `Yes, I just did that,' and `Please, please, let me do that again!'

Harry turned her around and kissed her gently. “But…it is my birthday so if you wanted to return the favor…I mean, it's my birthday so I can't really say no, right?” He reasoned.

Hermione laughed and replied with a kiss. “As you wish, Birthday Boy,” she said with a wink. Her kiss was long, slow, and deep while her hand ventured down his body and grasped his prominent erection. While she leisurely fondled him, she moved her mouth to his neck, leaving wet kisses along his already-wet skin. She continued to his chest, playfully nipping at each nipple while Harry leaned his back contently against the back of the shower, his eyes closed. He felt Hermione tongue continue down farther, encircling his belly button as her hands gripped his hips on either side. Oh Merlin, that felt good. His eyes suddenly snapped open when he felt her lips graze him…there! `Oh Godric-Ro-Rowena-Helga-and-…and…Sal…Sal…Sal-something!' “Wha…?” He started to sputter as he looked down at his girlfriend on her knees in front of him, shyly exploring this new game. She teased him with her lips and small licks of her tongue, and he was mentally begging her—`Please, please, PLEASE!!!'—not to stop, not to ever stop!

Then she took him inside her hot mouth completely, and Harry almost lost it right there, “Ah…fuck...” He grunted softly, pursing his lips together. One hand managed to somehow make its way to grab a fistful of her hair on the side of her head while the other had a death grip on the shower bar just to his right to make sure he stayed upright. “Oh, Merlin, Hermione.” Harry groaned his eyes fluttering shut as he lost himself to the pleasure. `Not yet, not yet, not yet,' Harry thought mentally, wanting to draw this out. It was completely fucking amaz—

“Oi, mate! Happy Birthday!” A voice suddenly interrupted his consciousness, causing his eyes to snap back open and his leg to slip. He narrowly missed kicking Hermione and was barely able to catch his balance to avoid slipping straight on his ass. He ended up half-dangling from the shower bar, one hand with a white-knuckle grip on the bar and the other pressed tightly against the slick wall. He looked down to see Hermione's eyes wide.

“Er…Ron?” Harry asked, his breath catching in this throat as he tried to calm himself. After a second, he was able to stand upright. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth, covering it as to save herself from making her presence known by making any sound.

“Hey mate!” Ron repeated, and Harry slid the window back enough for him to stick his head out as Hermione crawled to the back of the tub.

Ron was sitting on the toilet, looking cheerful and bleary-eyed, a smile on his face. “Happy Birthday—am I the first one to tell you?!” He asked happily.

“What are you doing!? Get out!” Harry hissed, looking at his best mate with wide eyes.

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Um…kind of in a bad situation here, mate, no can do. I'll open the window.” He made to unlock the small frosted window beside him.

Harry shook his head. “No, don't open the bleeding window, Ron, just get out. Didn't you notice the door was locked!?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, what was with that? Since when do you lock the door? And why are you being so unreasonable?” Ron asked, getting defensive. “And what was that? Did you fall?

Harry unconsciously looked back at Hermione, who was sitting on the floor of the tubs, knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes glued to the wall.

“Just, please, get out.” Harry begged his red-headed mate, a pleading expression on his face.

Confused, Ron shrugged. “I'm going as fast as I can. What's with you? You're acting uncomfortable or something. Did I catch you wanking or…or…oh bloody hell, mate…” Realization dawned on his face as he caught sight of a pile of clothes just a few feet from him—pink knickers sitting on top. “Hermione is in there with you, isn't she?!” He exclaimed loudly.

Harry's shoulders slumped. “What? No! No. Maybe. I mean, no! Stop! Just…please stop!” Harry groaned, letting his head hit the wall of the shower in despair.

A small chuckled came from Ron, now also a little embarrassed. “Sorry mate. When I came in, I didn't even see…I mean I saw your head in the glass and there wasn't anyone else mate. Had I seen her I wouldn't have sat down and started the process that I can't really just stop, you know...?” Even as Ron was saying this with a huge grin on his face, the wheels were turning his head because he had seen Harry right off the bat, alone in the shower so Hermione must have been…”Oh bloody hell twice over you dirty wanker…Hermione was giving you a blowie!” He suddenly accused in typical tactless Ron Weasley fashion.

Harry ducked his head back in the shower, but not before Ron caught the flush of his cheeks and the grin that Harry tried to keep from his face. “Ron…just…shut the bleeding hell up already!” Harry called over to his friend, shaking a bit from laughter now.

Hermione, on the other hand, looking completely mortified.

“Er…good morning, Hermione! Thanks for er…blowing my mate on his birthday and all. And sorry I ruined it. I'm almost done, I swear…I think…” Ron said awkwardly in the direction of the shower.

Hermione—completely red-faced with her hand shielding her eyes from view as if it would make the situation disappear, slumped her head against the wall. “Just shut the bleeding fuck up, Ronald.” She groaned in humiliation, repeating Harry's words with even more surprising vulgarity.

“Giving head and now thinks she can use that dirty mouth however she pleases.” Ron muttered under his head in mirth, slyly looking at Harry's face in the shower. There was a few beats of silence before Ron started whistling a few notes until he stopped, finishing with an uncomfortable, “Awkward…” hanging in the air.

Harry gave Hermione an apologetic look, and Hermione suddenly stood up. “Ron—close your eyes or I'll hex the hell out of you!” Hermione called out warningly.

Harry shook his head, “No, please, don't go. He's almost done—then we can—” Harry tried to save their shower fun, but stopped when he saw the incredulous look on Hermione's face. He drooped is shoulders in defeat. “Damn you Ronald Weasley.” He said with a murderous glare behind him where his best mate was casually sitting on the toilet, taking a shit and ruining Harry's birthday shower.

Harry grabbed a towel and wordlessly handed it to Hermione, watching with a tortured expression as she wrapped herself up in the fluffy towel and poked her head out of the shower. “No peeking!” She said, and saw that Ron had his hands covering his eyes and a Quidditch magazine sitting precariously on his lap.

She quickly scooped up her clothes and dashed out the door, only to let out a small scream, “Oh bloody hell, not you too!” Her exclamation followed by a muffled apology from Draco. Harry pushed the glass window of the shower open as the door opened, and Harry met the very confused gaze of Draco.

“What in the…” The blonde took in the scene before him: Hermione rushing from the bathroom in a towel, Harry's head poking out the glass door in the shower, and Ron sitting on the toilet, magazine in his hand and a smirk on his face.

Before Harry could say anything, Ron half-yelled, “Harry was getting a birthday blowie from Hermione!”

“Ron, shut up!” Harry said, though unable to stop the massive grin from spreading on his face.

Draco's eyebrows shot up. “Why are you in here, then?!” He asked, eyeballing Ron.

Ron shrugged. “Well, obviously I didn't see that she was in here—being on her knees and all—and so…I think it made her a little uncomfortable. I didn't even know she was giving him blowies in the first place. You never tell us anything, mate!” Ron whined with a look of accusation.

“Well, this is the first time that's happened! And her sharing a shower with me too!” Harry said defensively. “And thanks for ruining both of them, wanker!”

Draco's expression faltered. “Oh Merlin…are telling me you cock-blocked your best mate…on his birthday…while his girlfriend was sucking his cock for the first time, during their first shower together, by coming in here and taking this completely foul-smelling shit?” Draco concluded slowly, making sure he didn't miss anything.

Ron considered his words before nodding guiltily.

Draco let out a low whistle. “Wow, mate. I think there's a special kind of place in hell for horrible people like you to burn.” He said with a chuckle.

“If you two don't mind, I'd like a little privacy. I can't shit in these tense conditions. I'm beginning to feel like I may be slightly responsible here, and it's making me all upset inside.” Ron said, pulling a mock concerned look. “I imagine your shower is done unless you are wanting to wash the saliva off the old todger..

“Yes, so let's all make things more comfortable for you.” Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes. He turned off the water and reached for a towel to wrap around his waist.

“Maybe you can pick up where Ron so rudely interrupted back in your bedroom?” Draco said suggestively, smirking.

Harry grinned half-heartedly. “I really doubt it, but who knows? And fuck you, Ron, by the way.” He called over his shoulder, “We're no longer mates.”

Harry went to open the door that led to his bedroom, which was locked. He knocked on the door, “Hey, it's just me.” He said through the door before using his wand to unlock it. Hermione was under the blankets on his bed, hiding herself from view. Harry smiled.

“Hey.”

No response.

Harry sat down gingerly on his bed, sinking into the mattress. “Hey. Can you come out now?” He laughed, pulling at the blankets, but Hermione only tightened her hold on them. “Come on, it's just me here.” He tried to persuade her to come out, but to no avail. He sighed, and continued to talk. “Don't be embarrassed. This isn't something new to them, and it's not a big deal. Not like they haven't all done this.” He reasoned.

“I'm going to kill Ronald Weasley.” Hermione's voice was muffled through the blankets.

“I'm feeling the same way right about now, love. Want me to hold him, while you punch and yell at him for ruining my birthday blowie?” He laughed at the image in his head.

Hermione slowly pulled the blankets away from her face. “Stop calling it that! I tried to do something nice for your birthday.” She whined, “And that stupid ginger had to just go and muck things up. Stupid red hair with his stupid freckles and stupid long nose!” She said, clinching her fists. “How is he just going to walk into the bathroom with the door locked!?”

Harry shrugged. “It's okay. I know, he's…well, he's Ron. But don't worry, next time we know using the Muggle lock on the door is not sufficient with Ron in the house. In fact,” He grinned wicked at her and leaned down to kiss her, “We could test that theory right now. It's still my birthday, there's a door I can lock so no one can get in here, ever.” He whispered huskily, kissing her heatedly.

Hermione pushed him off of her with a dubious look on her face. “Really? You think we're just going to have it off in here now?” She gave a short laugh.

Harry sighed. “I didn't think so, but you can't blame me for trying, yeah?” He grinned down at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “The mood has effectively been ruined by your best mate. Go ask him for your stupid birthday…special thing.” Hermione said, turning slightly pink.

“Birthday…special thing?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione grinned. “I don't like saying it!”

Harry laughed. “So you'll surprise me with it…but have trouble getting the words out? That doesn't make a lot of sense.”

Hermione shrugged. “There are just some words I don't prefer to say, is all.”

Harry shook his head. “Okay. Now, are you sure you don't want to continue any special birthday activities?” He asked, standing up from the bed. “I'd just hate to put pants on if you are only going to want to rip them off.” He pointed out, gesturing towards his towel.

“Just get dressed already so I can give you your birthday present, yeah?” Hermione responded with a laugh.

“So keep my pants off then?” Harry said, putting his boxers back down. The look Hermione gave him made him slowly pick them back up. “Well don't watch me, at least you pervert!”

Hermione turned towards the drawer she had stashed Harry's tickets in and pulled the package out. She walked over to Harry, who was pulling on a fresh pair of pajama pants, fanning herself with the thin package. She tried to dance out of his reach as Harry made a grab for the tickets, but was too slow for him. He dropped back on his bed on his stomach and turned the present over in his hands. “So what is it?”

Hermione plopped down beside him. “Obviously a brand new surf board because yours is poor compared to everyone else's.” Hermione joked.

Harry laughed in response, “Hey, money was a little short that week! And Ole' Blue does me just fine, thank you very much!” He shamelessly defended his old friend.

“If you say so. Now open it!” Hermione demanded, grinning.

Harry ripped the paper off to reveal a thick envelop. He opened it and pulled out two Quidditch tickets, the Appleby Arrows vs. the Wimbourne Wasps. Harry grinned broadly. “Are you kidding me? This is…” He looked at Hermione, his smile widening. “I'm going to give you a big kiss right now, I'm not attempting to seduce you and finish what you started this morning; it is just an expression of gratitude…unless you want to turn it into something.” Harry laughed before rolling over and planting a wet, sloppy kiss starting on her mouth and one on each of her cheeks.

Hermione giggled under his weight. “I'm glad you like it. Should be an interesting game, right?” Honestly, she had no clue. She liked watching Harry play Quidditch, but watching him watch Quidditch wasn't half bad either. He always got overly excited.

Harry rolled off her. “I don't think you even understand how brilliant this is. The Arrows and Wasps…huge rivals. I've never been to a game between them, but I've heard they can get insane. The fans literally get into fights over the matches…which I suppose could be said for any team, but these…they're brutal, mate.” Harry said, running a hand through his messy hair as he tried to contain his excitement.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the name. “`Mate?' I'm your `mate,' now, mate?”She asked, turning her head to the side, inquisitive.

Harry chuckled. “Playmate, maybe.” He leaned in for a kiss.

“Playmate.” Hermione repeated. “I must say, we do tend to play pretty well together, don't we?” She replied mischievously.

Harry's let out a small groan. “Stop, unless you're willing to back up your words. I might not let you leave the bedroom if you keep talking like that—already still half-cocked as it is.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione pulled him into a chaste kiss. “Maybe later, birthday boy. You'll let me make you something nice for breakfast, yeah?” She asked, nuzzling his neck.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Or you could just let me have you for breakfast.” He whispered, opening them and showing lust begging in his eyes.

Hermione swallowed loudly and felt her own desire heat up. No. Later.

Not too much later though, she hoped.

She pushed herself off his bed. “Come on, love, before you talk me into it.” She held a hand out to help pull him up.

Harry stowed away his tickets in his drawer, grinning in his excitement, before reluctantly following Hermione towards the kitchen.

“Oh, there they are!” Ron's loud voice greeted before giving a loud, obnoxious burp.

“Hey, come on now…” Draco said, giving Ron a look. “Don't be an asshole to the girl…she's only just been able to get on her feet.” He snickered teasingly.

Hermione felt herself blush.

“Stop, the both of you. I'm serious.” Harry said, looking between his mates.

Hermione shook her head. “No, it's fine. I can fight my own battles. Go on, idiots, what else have you got? Go ahead and get it all out now.” She offered, gesturing towards the pair of them.

“Good. I've got a list.” Ron said, producing a small piece of paper. “Let's see here…Okay, Draco, set me up.” He said, looking over at the blonde.

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly, surveying Hermione with apprehension now. “I think I'm going to sit this one out…” He replied, gauging Hermione's cool expression.

“Sitting it out? Oh, like Hermione? Well, wasn't exactly sitting but wasn't standing either now was she?” Ron laughed at his own improvised joke.

Hermione gave a mock clap. “Very clever, Ronald.”

Ron nodded as he looked at his list. “I know I'm clever. Now what does Hermione have in common with the Tornados?”

Hermione sighed. “I don't know, Ron, what do I have in common with the Tornados?”

“You both `suck' and bring the rain. In their case, the rain with their mascot and in yours…well, your sucking brings—or would have brought—Harry's `rain.'” Ron laughed.

Hermione gave him an incredulous look. “`Harry's rai'—Ron just how bleeding immature are you?!” She asked, shaking her head.

Ron gave her a small glare. “Hey, I didn't have a whole lot of time here. And finally…what's Harry's new favorite view? Hermione's lips? Tits? No, that would be the top of her head—getting to work and using that mouth in the best way possible.”

Hermione glanced over at Harry, who simply raised an eyebrow as if asking if she wanted him to take care of it. Hermione smirked in response. She walked slowly over to the ginger sitting at the bar, and picked up in mediocre list of “funny” insults. “Happy now? Got them all out, did you? Anything else you want to come out of that mouth of yours?”

Ron stood and raised his hands up, “Wow, wait. Are you sure you want to talk about what's coming out of mine or what's coming in yours?”

Hermione crumpled up the paper in her fist. “Done now?

“Yes. I think. For the moment, anyway, so carry on and maybe make breakfast or something.” Ron said, grinning.

Hermione nodded. “Good. Now while you are trying to think up more stupid clever little jokes, how about we play a game. The game is…you have five seconds to run before I hex the bleeding fuck out of you, and that filthy mouth of yours.”

Ron scoffed. “Filthy mouth of mine? I wasn't the one sucking co—wow, wow, wow, don't point that thing at me--which is not what you said this morning in the shower!” Ron slipped out as word vomit as Hermione pointed her wand at his chest.

“Always got to be funny. My turn. One…two…” Hermione began to count.

Ron slowly backed away, hands held up in surrender. “Hermione…” He said warningly.

“Three…”

Ron turned and took off out the patio door.

“Five!” She shouted after him, sprinting out the door.

“That was only four! You didn't say all the numbers!” Ron whined, picking up speed.

“I lied!” Hermione aimed her wand, trying to keep her arm steady while running. “I'm going to get you, Ronald Weasley!” She promised vehemently.

Harry and Draco exchanged a look of entertainment. “Smart, keeping your mouth shut there, mate.” Harry said casually.

“I knew something was up. I'm not going to let her turn me into a ferret or something. I know boundaries. Ron…has a bit of trouble in that department, I'd say.” He chuckled. “But now I've got to ask…how was it?”

A large grin plastered itself on Harry's face. “Oh, bloody fantastic. Probably one of the most amazing things ever.”

“What's amazing?” A female voice asked, and Harry's head jerked up to meet eyes very much like his own staring at him from the doorway.

“Mum!” He greeted, crossing the distance and taking the bag from her hands and giving he a hug with his free arm. “What are you doing here?”

“Happy Birthday, darling.” She said, kissing him on each cheek twice. “I've come to make you breakfast on your birthday—we always do that together, you know that!” She laughed, ushering him farther into the kitchen.

Harry nodded. “Of course.”

“And no diet, today, Harry! You will eat whatever your mum makes you. You can go for an extra run tomorrow or something. Merlin, you look thin!” She tutted under her breath, pulling him in front of her to complain about his weight loss.

Harry shook his head, a smile on his face. “I look fit, Mum. There's a difference.”

“Well, today you are going to eat a lot, or you'll have me to deal with.” She threatened.

Harry held up his hands in surrender, very much like Ron with Hermione. “You win. Make me fat, Mum.”

She nodded her head, satisfied. “Hello, Draco dear. Where's Ron?” She asked, looking around.

Both Harry and Draco broke out into simultaneous laughter. “Somewhere around the business end of Hermione's wand would be my guess.” Draco said, peering out the door. “Wants to take the mickey out on the smartest magic-enabled person in the house—not his brightest idea, I'd say.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “I bet he comes back as a bug. A spider!”

Lily looked out the window, slightly concerned. “That's a little harsh.”

Draco shook his head. “Trust me, he most definitely has it coming.”

Lily shrugged. “Let's start breakfast. Put a shirt on—you're in a kitchen. Is that how I raised you?”

After going to his room to pull on a shirt, Harry started to bustle around and help his mother with the food. He had to admit, the prospect of a meal that wasn't complete rubbish was enticing.

Ten minutes later, Hermione strode confidently through the back door, a smug expression on her face.

“Catch your canary, did you?” Draco asked, noting her expression.

“Caught. De-feathered and cleaned. Battered up and fried crispy for supper.” She replied with a laugh.

“Oh, dear Merlin, what did you do?” Harry asked, stopping his stirring in the mixing bowl in his hands.

Hermione looked up and saw Harry and his mother making breakfast together, his mother's sudden presence throwing her for a loop. Er…just harmless fun.” She adverted her gaze as Ron walked in behind her, a wooden bucket in his arms.

“Ron! How are you, mate?” Draco asked with a wide grin.

Ron, looking paler than usual and sweating slightly, responded by retching a large slug into the bucket in front of him. Eyes watering, he tried to talk but no sound came out.

“He won't be talking anytime soon.” Hermione elaborated wickedly as another slug came barreling out of his mouth. “Needs to be a little more conscious about what comes of out his mouth and all.”

“Ron, I've heard you had this coming. Now please, get those horrid things out of the kitchen. I'm making breakfast.” Lily said, her head tilted to the side as if she wasn't sure if she should be concerned or laugh.

Mustering up a little courage, Hermione walked directly over to Harry's mother and smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Potter. It's nice to see you again. Is there anything I can help you with? I can help with breakfast and the boys can go play video games or something?” She offered, smiling broadly.

Earning a tight smile in return, Lily replied, “Actually, Harry and I make breakfast together on his birthday every year. It's a tradition, if you will.” She let her eyes roam Hermione's attire, her pajamas perhaps an unneeded reminder that she was sleeping here with her son.

The biting undertone of her voice and pointed look in her eyes did not go unnoticed by Hermione, who felt the grin falter slightly at the refusal. “That's fine. Um…if you need anything, please, just ask.”

Lily had already turned around and started messing around with a mixing bowl. Hermione looked at Harry as a dark look passed his features. He opened his mouth to say something to his mother about her rudeness, but Hermione quickly shook her head, silently mouthing, “It's fine.”

Harry stopped, looking clearly unhappy, but bit his tongue. He looked at Draco for help,

“How about we go see what we can do with some zombies, Hermione? Unless you want to try rugby again? Or that Grand Theft Auto game?”

Hermione smiled. “Black Ops is fine—it's the only thing I'm not total rubbish at.” She responded, trying not to look wistful at her rejection.

Harry walked with her over to the door, an apologetic look on his face. “I'm sorry.” He whispered so only she could hear.

“That's fine. Unbeknownst to her, her little birthday boy got a blowie in the shower this morning, so score one for me.” She breathed wickedly.

Harry snickered. “Thought you didn't like that word.”

“I make exceptions. After all, I do have a dirty little mouth on me.” She watched as her perverted innuendos brought out the intended response in her boyfriend—darkened eyes that promised she would be paying for that later, and that it was very much a score for her indeed.

Hermione shrugged. “Trying to pawn me off on Draco. You sure it's okay we sit on the couch together?” She asked, mirth clearly in her voice as she poked fun at his recent jealously. “Shall I sit on the floor?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. Tell him to be the gentleman and sit on the floor.”

Hermione laughed and shoved him back towards the kitchen.

“Be right back!” She called to Draco, who was turning on the Xbox.

Hermione quickly went to Harry's bedroom and changed her clothes. She felt a little inappropriate in her pajamas in front of Harry's mother—even more so after the woman silently point it out. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and applied a little bit of make-up. Surveying her appearance, she nodded in satisfaction and turned back toward the door.

She plopped down beside Draco on the couch at the opposite end and took his offered controller.

Ron was sitting in the chair, still sweating and producing slugs from his mouth.

Draco looked over at Ron. “Nice.” He said, offering her his fist.

Hermione bumped her fist against his awkwardly. Suddenly, Ron shot up and ran for the bathroom, causing them to both laugh.

Draco smiled. “I might only have a few minutes to say this, so I'm going to get it out before we get interrupted. About the other night…I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to come off a certain way. If I was inappropriate…well, that wasn't my intent.”

Hermione nodded. “I know. And Harry knows too.” She added with a smile.

“Yeah, we talked. I told him you're special to me for some reason, dunno why because you're right bloody annoying most of the time.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you know you love me, you self-righteous git.” Hermione joked.

Draco smiled a half-smile. “Yeah, I guess I do. Fucking brat.”

Hermione gave a snort of laughter. “Good. But yeah…I know it wasn't anything on either of our parts. I'm a little new to this whole thing, like how to be friends with blokes…especially when I'm with Harry. It's a little confusing. I mean, Harry doesn't know what's going on in our heads, and we need to keep that in mind because something things can look…deceptive.” She said, trying to find the words to convey that the boundaries in their relationship need to be solidified a little more.

Draco nodded in agreement. “It's hard for me to have someone in my life that's…different than even Ron and Harry. I've never really had a girl completely off limits before in my life, and I know I can be a little too flirtatious sometimes. I don't mean anything by it towards you—you're too good for that type of thing. I think…I think I put you on a pedestal or something, if that makes any sense. You impress me. No one impresses me.” Draco laughed, also trying to say the right words.

“Well that's good, because I should be on a pedestal. I'm Hermione-Mother-Bleeding-Granger, for Merlin's sake!” She said suavely in a mock-conceited voice imitating Draco himself.

“Well, Miss Hermione-Mother-Bleeding-Granger—prepare to get your ass handed to you on a silver platter to go along with that crystal pedestal. I've got…fifteen times your kills, at least. And ten times the headshots, I'd wager, depending on how much time we have.”

Hermione smacked him in the back of the head. “There's your headshot.”

***

Harry rolled his eyes. “Mum, I get it. I should be getting my results soon. And I know you want me to go into Healing but…I think we both know what I'm really wanting to do.” Harry said, trying to convince her that Auror training was better suited for him.

“It's dangerous.”

“We're in dangerous times.” Harry shot back.

“We aren't talking about that today.” She said, a warning in her voice.

Harry stood up and planted a kiss on the top of his mother's head. “Then let's not talk about this either. I'm not changing my mind.” Harry knew what he wanted to do. He knew what he needed to do. To cushion his remark, Harry added, “But maybe I can go into Healing later on. I don't want to be an Auror forever.”

His mother wasn't satisfied, but that was enough to keep her to quiet. She looked down at her watch. “If you don't mind, how about you lot go out and get the backyard ready before your aunt and uncle get here. No magic, remember. You know how they feel about that.” She looked around at the teenagers in the room, a warning look in her almond-shaped emerald eyes. They all nodded mutely. Her eye was trained on Ron, who wore an impish expression.

Harry, Ron, and Draco went to work, conjuring up everything from tables and chairs to ice boxes and a buffet line. Hermione started decorating with blue and green—balloons, streamers, banners—all sorts of embellishments filled the backyard. Within half an hour, their work was done and they were joined by a new lot—several Weasleys, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and a few others.

It was half-past noon and dinner wasn't until five. Hermione raised an eyebrow. “A little early, yeah?”

Harry laughed. “No. Mrs. Weasley will be helping my mother cook everything. When we all get together…it's pretty well an all-day affair.” He looked out at the sun. “I say we should all hit the beach.”

“Won't they want help?” Hermione asked, furrowing her eyebrows. That was a lot of people to cook for with just two people.

Harry smirked. “Did you want to ask her again?”

“I can.” She said defiantly, despite Lily generously letting her clean up the kitchen after breakfast—which Hermione did the Muggle way, in hopes of trying to impress her having the same respect for the Muggle lifestyle she knew Harry's mother had.

“I wish you wouldn't. She's going to say no.” Harry said, frowning.

Hermione shrugged and headed inside, Harry hot on her tail.

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley, right? Nice to meet you.” Hermione introduced herself to Ron's mother. “Mrs. Potter.” She greeted with a grin. “Is there anything else I can do to help? I'd hate to see you ladies stuck in the kitchen all day!”

“Oh no, go play. We've got this covered. We do it every year.” Lily said, gesturing towards her best friend, Mrs. Weasley.

“Well, if you need help…” Hermione trailed off, knowing the futility of her offer while at the same time trying not to hold any disdain towards the “go play” comment, as if she were a child.

“Actually, Harry, I'm going to need to you meet Petunia and Vernon right outside of town and guide them here. That would be best.” She looked down at her watch. “Perhaps in about fifteen minutes?”

“I'll meet them!” Ron's voice—generously given back to him before breakfast after very much silent begging—offered, a wicked gleam in his blue eyes.

“Absolutely not! Especially not after last time!” Lily immediately rejected, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.

“I'll take care of it, Mum. Ron, take everyone out to the beach, Hermione and I will meet up with you lot in a few. You could go for a ride, yeah babe?” Harry asked, looking down at his girlfriend.

Hermione felt herself blush. “Yes.” She replied quietly, not liking his endearment here in front of the watching gaze of his and Ron's mothers. “I'm going to go change first though.” Hermione wanted to get out of there. Ginny and Luna followed behind her.

Hermione dressed in her modest tankini again, though she had half a mind to dress in her other black swim suit—still modest but it did show part of her stomach. It would certainly show Lily Potter up, Hermione traipsing around half-naked in front of Harry. But no, that certainly wouldn't do.

She rejoined her two girl friends in the living room a few minutes later.

“So how has your summer been going?” Ginny asked slyly, causing Hermione to tinge pink.

“Very well, thank you. And yours?”

“Oh, I'm sure it's nothing compared to yours. We will be talking about this later.” She promised with a meaningful look as several people made their way into the room with them. “See you on the beach.” Ginny said, letting Neville take her by the hand and pull her in the direction of the door.

Soon, just Harry and Hermione were left. “Ready?” He asked with a grin.

The sun was too bright and the weather too warm for the Harry's riding jacket, and feeling slightly daring, Hermione skipped his helmet as well and let her long hair dance in the breeze in her ponytail.

They waited on the side of the road, laughing at Hermione's revenge on Ron that morning and Harry recounted the story of Ron Apparating straight into the Dursley's car the summer before last, scaring the hell out of them all. Harry spotted his uncle's car coming up the road after only a few minutes. He motioned for them to follow him and he turned back towards town, letting the bike roar.

“Stop showing off!” Hermione half-heartedly reprimanded him, squeezing him tight in her arms.

Once they made it back to the house, Harry got off the bike and walked over to his relatives. “Aunt, Uncle.” He greeted, pulling Hermione along. “Hermione, this is my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Then my cousin Dudley and his girlfriend….Cassie?”

The girl nodded her head mutely.

“Everyone, this gorgeous girl is Hermione Granger, my girlfriend.” He grinned, pulling her to space separating him and his relatives, showing her off.

“Harry! Stop it!” Hermione begged, scarlet-faced.

“Thanks, I'm glad you all could make it. Follow me.” He called, heading to the front door.

Once inside, Petunia was whisked away by Harry's mother saying something about how there was only two of them to cook so she could really use her help—a comment that earned a glare from Hermione. In their absence, more people had shown up: James, Sirius and Remus Lupin.

“Remus! You haven't met Hermione. Hermione, this is Remus; he's a top notch bloke. You've heard me talk about him.” Harry gestured towards a tall, gangly man with sandy brown hair and a scruffy face.

“Nice to meet you, Remus.” Hermione greeted, forcing herself not to think about how she already knew this man. Not here, and certainly not now.

“Likewise.” The man replied, shaking her hand. He turned to Harry's uncle. “It's Vernon, correct?” He asked, extending his hand to the large, beefy man in front of him.

“How's the bike riding?” Sirius asked, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

“Brilliantly.” Harry grinned. “Hermione's quite fond of it.”

“Of course—all the babes love a bloke on a motorcycle, that's why I got it! You should think about getting your own someday!” He let out a bark of laughter. “Happy Birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“Yes, Happy Birthday, son.” James said, coming over to give Harry a half- hug. “Eighteen! Wow!” He looked over at Hermione, standing ill at ease by Harry's side fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt. “Hermione. Nice to see you again.” He squeezed her forearm awkwardly.

“You too, Mr. Potter.” Hermione replied sweetly, giving him her dazzling smile. Perhaps she could win over one her boyfriend's parents?

“We are going to join the other out in the water—you all coming?” Harry asked, looking around at the men in the room.

“Maybe later. There's a game on I know your uncle would love to catch.” James winked before turning around. “Vernon!” He roared. “How have you been, mate!? How's drill business!?”

Watching the scene before her, Hermione could see, clear as day, how alike Harry and his father were. She shook her head. “You and your father…”

Already knowing what she would say, Harry just nodded. “Man acts just like me, I know. Well, come on, cousin. Let's hit the water before the sun sets!” Harry said, clapping his hand on his larger cousin's back.

The four of them made their way to the water with the sun—nice and hot for once—beating down on them. Harry stayed within a short distance of his cousin, knowing he and his girlfriend didn't know a whole lot of people there. Out in the water with no adults around and surrounded by friendly faces, Hermione felt like she could finally let loose a little. She didn't mind Harry touching her and could openly flirt back with him.

A surprise showed up around four `o'clock in the form of Blaise Zabini. “What is she doing here?” Hermione asked, taken by complete surprise.

Harry shrugged. “I invited her a few days ago via Hedwig. She did me a solid back at Hogwarts, and so I thought, `what the hell?'”

“Happy Birthday, Harry.” The girl said, looking uncomfortable and slightly unsure as to why she had even agreed to come here in the first place.

“Blaise! How's your summer going?” Harry greeted her, motioning for her to join them in the water.

Hermione watched the girl, smaller with nervous eyes, glance around. Her eyes fell on Luna, who she smiled awkwardly at and gave a small wave.

“Hello, cousin.” Luna replied dreamily with a dazed expression. “You look well.”

Hermione looked quickly at Harry, who wore the same shocked expression. These two were cousins? Quite possible the most unlikely people imaginable, and to think they were related. It was no wonder why no one knew—not exactly part of the same circles at Hogwarts. Harry had never even seen them talk, though now that he thought about he, remembered Blaise mentioning Luna's small immersion into Avery's tricks when he had talked to her about Hermione's attack. He shrugged.

They swam and talked for a little longer before Sirius came up to the beach and called to them all, “Alright, you lot, back in the house. Dinner is ready!”

Everyone got out of the water and tried to dry off, shimmying on dry clothes over their wet swim suits.

“I hate your mum's rule about no magic.” Ron grumbled, wringing out the bottom of his shorts.

Harry laughed. “You'll be fine, there, Weasley. Food is on the way.” His words seemed to brighten Ron's mood a bit.

Dinner was mad. Long tables laden with food lined part of the yard while other, round tables littered the middle for people to eat at. Plates overflowed while people laughed and celebrated. Harry pushed two tables together the best he could for himself and his friends to sit down together.

“That's a lot of food.” Hermione observed, looking at Harry's plate.

Harry shrugged. “It's my birthday.”

“Happy Birthday.” Hermione said quietly with a smile. “You should really spend more time with your parents, after dinner. I think it would be a good idea.” She said with a shrug.

Harry swallowed a large bite of food. “Sure. You can go bug someone else for a change.” He teased.

Hermione swatted at him playfully.

***

“There is no way I can eat cake right now.” Harry said after a loud burp.

“I could go for some cake.” Ron said, looking around and sniffing the air.

“Of course you could, Ron. Are you ever full?” Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ron ignored his younger sister. “So about this cake…”

“It's right up there, calm down, Ron.” Lily's voice said from behind with a laugh. “Harry, if you could…” She gestured towards the cake, and Harry got up to follow his mother. A two-tiered cake sat at the front table. Scarlet with little golden snitches. “I would have charmed them to move, but probably not a good idea.” His mother said with a wistful look.

Harry pulled her into a hug. “It's perfect, Mum. Thanks for everything—not just today, I mean every day. I love you.” He said sincerely, looking into eyes that mirrored his own but with more wisdom and laugh lines and perhaps with less of his carefree gleam.

His mother got all teary-eyed and pulled him in for another hug. “I love you too, Harry. So much.”

“Alright, let's not get tears on the cake. Ron might have a conniption.” James said, coming forth with a light. “Eighteen candles for eighteen years. Happy Birthday, son.”

Everyone gathered around, surrounding the birthday boy. Harry grinned and felt emotion well up inside at all the love the people around him had for him, and he for them. His eyes automatically sought out Hermione, but couldn't find her until he felt a hand grasp his own. He didn't even need to look to know that she would be standing there by his side, where she belonged. However, after a quick, reassuring squeeze on her part, she drew away to relinquish the place for his father, who started the chorus of “Happy Birthday.”

Eighteen flames stared back at him. What could he possibly want more than this? Looking around at the people he loved—family and friends—there was nothing he wanted.

`I wish for the safety of everyone I love.' Harry thought to himself, not letting the threat of Voldemort ruin his special day.

As he blew out the flames, he could have sworn he heard a high-pitched, cold laugh in the back of his mind, followed by a sinister, “Good luck.” Harry felt a shiver run down his spine.

“And for your birthday present!” James called, turning towards the table. A small gift the size of a deck of cards sat wrapped in the same scarlet and gold as his cake. “Happy Birthday!” He said again, a knowing smile on his lips.

Lily picked up the gift and handed it to Harry hesitantly. “It's from everyone—we all chipped in on it for you. Happy Birthday.”

Inside, was a small box, and inside the small box, was a small key. Too small for a car. Harry felt his whole body react and tense up from excitement.

He looked around him. “No. No. This is way too much. No, I can't—are you kidding me?”

Sirius came roaring through the yard on a shiny black motorcycle with white accents on the gas tank and a chrome finish gleaming under it.

“It's not too much, like I said, everyone chipped in.” His mother said, kissing him on the cheek.

“Well, take it for a spin!” Sirius said, offering the bike to him. Harry felt his heart hammering in his chest. He looked back for Hermione, but she shyly shook her head, urging for him to go solo. Licking his lips, Harry sat on the bike, loving the vibration beneath him.

“Wow.” He breathed, letting the throttle loose.

“And, uh, it had the same special features as mine.” Sirius winked.

***

And every prayer has been answered
Every dream I've had's come true
Yeah, right here in this moment
Is right where I'm meant to be
Here with you here with me
Yeah

These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I've found all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more

“I Could Not Ask For More” SARA EVANS

***

“Okay, now spill!” Ginny demanded, finally cornering Hermione alone in the kitchen. “What's happening between you two? Have you done it?” She asked excitedly.

Hermione laughed. “Calm down. I'm not going into details. It's none of your business!” Hermione said, knowing it was useless to fight her off.

Ginny rolled her brown eyes. “Oh, come on. You have been alone with Harry for two weeks now. And he's absolutely gorgeous—you aren't telling me absolutely nothing has happened.”

A grin fought its way onto Hermione's face. “Okay, plenty of stuff has definitely happened—I mean—”

Hermione's confession was cut off by a sharp sound of something, perhaps a spoon, hitting a hard surface with a loud thwack. Both girls looked up to see that Lily Potter had just emerged from the pantry. “I'm sorry to interrupt you, but perhaps you should check your surroundings before you sit here and gossip about how you are defiling my son.” Her voice was low and held a definite hint of malice.

Going beet red along with Ginny, Hermione gasped.

Without another word, the older woman stepped outside.

Before Hermione could stop herself, she hissed indignantly to her friend, “And how does she know her son isn't the on defiling me?!”

“I can still hear you.” Lily's voice floated through the door, causing Hermione's hand to clap over her mouth.

“That was bad.” Ginny whispered, sure Lily was out of earshot by now.

“Just kill me now.” Hermione moaned, banging her head against the wall.

“Well, she's gone now, so…details?” Ginny asked meekly with a hopefully smile.

Hermione gave her a pointed looked. “Oh, just shut it, will you?! I know she is planning my imminent death in her head right about now. I'm not going to make it to see twenty.”

Ginny scoffed. “You aren't going to make it to see nineteen.” The redhead corrected her.

Hermione was able to avoid Lily for the rest of the evening. Ron wanted to have a bonfire out on the beach, so Hermione offered to help him. The Dursleys were ready to leave save for Dudley, who Harry had offered to let stay overnight and he would drive his cousin back to home the following day. Slightly apprehensive, his cousin finally agreed—though Harry wasn't sure if it was for him or if it was to stay overnight with his girlfriend.

Once the Dursleys were gone and Dudley and Cassie distracted out on the beach, Hermione and Draco helped Sirius clean up everything—very quick now that they had their wands out. Most of the adults were—especially a sickly-looking Remus and his pregnant wife Tonks—were ready to wrap the party up. Sirius offered to stay over to watch over all the rowdy teenagers who were technically adults. Fred and George—who Hermione found to be quite the riot and lived up to the legends—said they would see Ginny and Luna home tonight, and no later than midnight.

Lily and James were last the last to leave. Harry was over talking to them, thanking them over and over for the party and for his birthday gift he knew they paid most of the cost for. Even with everyone chipping in, that still left a large balance for his parents. Hermione watched the scene from her peripheral vision. She wished she had been able to contribute to the motorcycle, but of course, Harry's mother had never asked her. Lily's mood had definitely taken a sour turn, though she tried to hide it. Hermione mentally screamed all the dirty things she had done to Harry and vice versa in enough vivid detail that it made her neck warm in the direction of Harry's mother, feeling somewhat compensated for the woman's rudeness all day. And she prayed the woman didn't know Legilimency.

“Hermione? You okay?” Draco asked, breaking her from her detailed description of that very morning.

Hermione jumped, guilt immediately warming her cheeks. “Er…what?”

“You're a little flushed. You seemed a bit out of it, you okay?” He asked again.

Hermione nodded, but then decided maybe she wasn't. “Just getting a bit hot. I'm going to go run some cool water on my face and maybe lie down for a second.” She said before making a beeline for the loo.

Twenty minutes later, Harry found her lying across his bed. “Hey you. Why are you hiding in here?” He asked, his hair visibly windswept from another go on his new toy.

“Just lying down for a second, a bit worn out to be honest.” Hermione said, stretching and letting Harry pull her to her feet.

“Everyone is out at the fire. We can stay back if you want?” He offered, looking at the window.

Hermione kissed him softly on the lips. “Let's go.”

There was something comforting about flames, and the warmth they brought. In the firelight, Hermione was reminded of Hogwarts, sitting in front of the roaring fire. She felt a tug of nostalgia for her old school. She sat between Harry's knees, his arms encircling her while she leaned up against his bare chest. Her suit was still wet from the quick dip in the water they had just taken, and the large holes in her crocheted cover-up top allowed for the warmth of Harry's skin to graze her back here and there. Everyone was laughing and talking, while she sat there, completely content, to just listen to everyone. Someone had brought out Harry's guitar, and he and Ron took turns playing songs, so Hermione would have to move every once in awhile, but not too far. She felt completely, head-over-heels in love with this man beside her, particularly in this moment.

She had enjoyed staying with him these last few weeks. She loved learning new things she hadn't known before—like how he loved being lazy, but found motivation to go running twice every day and do his work-outs. She loved how neurotic he was about keeping the kitchen clean while he was cooking, but never bothered to make his bed in the morning and told Hermione it was a waste of time. She got annoyed with how he would drop his pants not six inches from the hamper, uncaring if they made it in there or just stayed on his bedroom floor. When he brushed his teeth, he was careful to get each individual tooth. The bathroom always smelled amazing after his shower, Hermione simply couldn't get enough. He was way too competitive with his video games, and did not shy away from telling Hermione how awful she was at them. He befriended kids like Graham, and tried to steer him in the right direction because that's the caring bloke Harry was. She had seen the loving side of him. The jealous side. And despite the jealousy, she had felt the genuine trust he had for his friends and experienced not so much jealousy, but pure terror at the very hint of the prospect of losing her—something that was completely ridiculous.

She had learned a lot. She knew he was far from perfect, but so was she. And she had realized they weren't perfectly suited for one another either, something that was obvious since they became friends. But that didn't matter. They didn't have to be perfect or perfect for one another or any of that—they just had to be enough. Hermione had no idea how long this was going to last, but she knew—maybe biased because it's her first love—she couldn't fathom a day in her life without Harry by her side.

She felt as if for once, absolutely every was right with the world, in this moment. Voldemort was surely devising his own threats. Harry's parents were probably talking about how horrible Hermione was. Her parents were missing her, she knew. So many things were wrong. So many terrors were on the horizon, unseen to her naked eye. But in this moment, with Harry's arms and legs wrapped around her and his heart beating strongly against her back as he conversed with his cousin about Merlin only knows, Hermione was in the eye of the hurricane.

***

What if I told you it was all meant to be?
Would you believe me? Would you agree?
It's almost that feeling we've met before
So tell me that you don't think I'm crazy
When I tell you love has come here and now
A moment like this

Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this
Some people search forever for that one special kiss
Oh, I can't believe its happening to me
Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this
Everything changes, but beauty remains
Something so tender I can't explain

Well, I may be dreaming, but still lie awake
Can't we make this dream last forever?
And I'll cherish all the love we share
A moment like this

“A Moment Like This” KELLY CLARKSON

Well what did you think? PLEASE review—I know a whole lot isn't going on right now, but trust it, it's building. Just needed a small break.

Sorry if the first scene was a little much—I thought it was pretty funny and I felt a little awkward so I tried to not to into too much detail there.

Well, gotta go, so please review and let me know what you think! I promise I will post faster. I'll probably go ahead and write a few chapters over the weekend and next week…might hold them hostage. Hehe.

I'm serious.

Ha.

`Til next time,

*~Archie~*

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Hello all. Here is the next chapter. It's longer than I thought, and I actually cut it off before I was planning, but I figured this was enough, plus it leaves a pretty good cliffy. Hope you all enjoy!

Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except Cliffinshire.

CHAPTER FIVE: Reality Check

This time it's like
The two of us should probably start to fight
'Cause something's gotta go wrong
'Cause I'm feelin' way too damn good

Feelin' way too damn good

Sometimes life ain't best if left in the memory
It's better kept inside than left for good
Lookin' back each time they tried to tell me
Well something's gotta go wrong
'Cause I'm feelin' way too damn good

“Feelin' Way Too Damn Good” NICKELBACK

***

“Are you sure this is wise, my lord?” Lucius Malfoy asked, his head bowed in respect. “With the Ministry denying your return so resolutely…such an event could ruin that—unless, of course, we are ready for such a…coming out party?”

Voldemort laughed as the chamber filled with his Death Eater's screams. After only a few seconds, the Dark Lord ceased his torture. “Lucius…let me worry about what is wise and unwise for us. I have told you, we are not ready for full disclosure to the Wizarding World. We are simply sending a small reminder to the boy—let him know that while he is not in my immediate sights, he is certainly on the list. I have no need to kill him at the moment. Simply killing him…well, that would just not do. I want him destroyed. We must be patient. It will all come together—I am sure of this.” Voldemort's small speech fell on Lucius's ears, though the Dark Lord was not necessarily reassuring the man before him as much as himself. Yes, he had a plan. However, it was not ready. Several components were still missing, and it would be unwise to take Dumbledore on at the present time. For his follower's wavering trust in his plan, Voldemort resumed his torture.

He had not revealed his plan to anyone—only that it had been set in motion and they had to wait patiently. Voldemort was patient. He could wait. He caught glimpses of Harry Potter's mind from this strange connection they shared through his scar. With his new body, Voldemort could only guess empowering himself further had strengthened this connection. He saw the love Harry had for those around him, the complete adoration he held for Hermione Granger. It was laughable. The boy should not trust the girl, and yet he did. Voldemort smirked. He had kept her alive for a reason. The evil call in her blood would be too great, he was sure. She had already be an asset to his plan without even realizing it. She thought she could deny her ancestors…she would soon realize things did not work that way. No one denied their pedigree—it was already coursing through her veins, silently waiting for the opportunity to strike.

***

Hermione had her eyes closed contently and her head leaned back towards the headrest with Harry's hand in hers while he drove down the road. They had dropped off Dudley and Cassie and were almost to London, where Hermione had set up a quick afternoon of tea with Clarence. She hadn't seen the woman in months, and felt guilty for not returning her last letter. With everything going on, Hermione had completely forgotten. She asked if they could have tea today before dinner with her parents later on, and her old friend had been just as taken with the idea as Hermione.

Harry, on the other hand, was slightly nervous, she knew. He had confided in her about the guilt that had accumulated in his chest about being responsible for Clarence's husband's death. Hermione tried to convince him it wasn't his fault and she knew Clarence harbored no ill feelings toward him, but Harry was still skeptical. She hoped this visit would remedy that.

They pulled up to her library in London, and Hermione felt a sense of peace overcome here. How many hours had she spent here? This had been a second home to her at one point in her life. She intertwined her hand with Harry's and gave him a small smile. “This place is really special to me. I'm glad I can share it with you.” She gave an encouraging squeeze of his hand.

Harry returned it with an affectionate one of his own as they started up the walkway and entered her old safe haven. The lobby looked magnificent, as always with its deep brown hardwood floors and stained glass, cone-shaped ceiling. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the open space. Hermione pulled Harry along excitedly, feeling a rush from the familiar scent of books lining walls just beyond the door ahead.

“Hermione!” A voice greeted as Clarence, her gray and brown hair tied back into a bun. Small but not frail-looking, she rushed forward to give Hermione a hug.

“I've miss you, dear. Please, come in, come in! I've just put the tea on.” She ushered them forward. “And you must be Harry Potter. Oh look at how much you've grown!” The older woman gushed, pulling Harry into a hug. “Your parents are doing well, I hope? I haven't had a chance to speak with them yet, then again I've only made it to headquarters once.” Before he could reply, she shepherded them into a small room right off the lobby with a large table and cozy chairs surrounding it. A teapot levitated in the air on by the counter above a floating flame. On the table in fine china, place settings for three were already put out. A few covered dishes sat on the table.

“Please, sit, sit. I'll get the tea.” She reached into her robes and produced her wand. The teapot floated over to the table and poured into three teacups before lightly dropping onto a tray on the table. “I don't know how you want it—there's sugar and milk and—oh, I've also made some snacks.” The lids levitated off each dish, reveals biscuits, crumpets, butter and jellies, and a few other items. “Help yourselves! I know you said you had dinner with your parents later, Hermione, but surely you both can fit in a little snack!”

Once they were all seated and had their small places full, Clarence turned her whole attention on them. She smiled at Harry. “Harry Potter…my, I still can't believe it. You're so handsome—just like your father with your mother's wonderful eyes. It's been so long since I've seen you last, well, really seen you, anyway.” She corrected herself, taking a sip of her tea. “Now tell me, I want to know everything you've been up to!”

For the next two hours, Hermione—with a little help from Harry—recounted her last few months at Hogwarts, focusing on the good parts. She told her how magical the school had been and everything she had learned. She talked about how she was still awaiting the results for her N.E.W.T.S., as was Harry. Harry went on about his career options and his plans to become an Auror. When Hermione was asked of her plans, she simply told Clarence that she didn't have anything yet, and for once she was okay with not knowing. She laughed and said she didn't know what she was going to do once Harry started his training.

“You will come here and help me!” Clarence said with a grin. “I'm not taking `no' for an answer! I could use some help running the library, and you will be able to continue your studies while you figure out what you want to do. A stagnant mind—”

“Limits oneself, dreams, and their future.” Hermione finished with a smile at the motto the woman before her had drilled into her head for the last five years.

“Exactly. We will work together to better you, as well as prepare for this war against Voldemort. What do you say?”

Hermione grinned. “I'll think about it, but honestly, that sounds pretty damn good to me.” She found herself saying with a laugh. The idea certainly had merit. She was going to need to do something, and with this opportunity offered to her, she saw no reason to turn it down.

“Good. It's settled. You will come here and work for me once your vacation is over. When will that be, just curious?” Clarence asked conversationally.

Hermione looked at Harry, who shrugged. “We haven't really talked about it, to be honest.” She admitted.

Clarence nodded. “Training for you starts in September, Harry? As well as your trip to Greece with your parents, Hermione?” She asked, and they both nodded. “After that, then. Once you return from Greece, you can start. I want you to enjoy your summer. It's settled.” She said with a smile.

They talked for another hour, and Hermione could see that Harry was warming up to her friend, and possibly the idea that he wasn't responsible for anything. Maybe.

Dinner with her parents went very much the same way. Hermione had created a slideshow of pictures to show her parents from her vacation so far—from cliffs and surfing to silly photos and Harry's birthday party. She told them of Clarence's offer, and they surprised her by fully supporting her decision. They knew how hard she had worked over her academic career thus far, juggling both her magical and Muggle education. She deserved a well-earned break.

Her mother completely adored Harry, which made Hermione slightly jealous because she wished his mother felt the same about her. `She will,' Hermione said to herself as she watched Harry interact flawlessly with her parents.

***

Lying in bed that night against Harry's naked chest, Hermione confided her fears in Harry about the possibility that his parents and her may never get along properly.

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Trust me, she will come around. My father doesn't seem to care. My mother…I mean, with the whole your great-great-relative trying to kill me when I was one…that takes some times getting used to, Hermione.” He said with a mock-pained expression. “Not to mention you are taking away her baby boy, corrupting him with blowjobs in the shower and your delicious, naked body.” He said, nuzzling her neck while his hand caressed her thigh.

His words brought the disturbing memory from the day before back to her mind and she let out a groan. “I forgot to tell you…your mother really hates me now.”

“She doesn't hate you.” He countered, pulling his hand away and rolling his head back to relieve a pain in his neck. He hated for her to feel like this.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and rolled to her side so she could see him in the lamp light. “Care to make a wager on that one, Potter?”

Harry grinned. “There's no way to tell the truth, so that's a bit pointless, isn't it?”

“Yesterday, Ginny and I were talking in the kitchen. She was trying to pump me for details on our…sexual trysts over the last few weeks. She said something about knowing something had to have happened, and I said that plenty of things have definitely happened…only to be interrupted by Mummy Dearest coming out of the pantry, smacking the table with a spoon!”

Harry's jaw dropped and he started laughed. “Oh, no…really?! I would have loved to see your face! Maybe she didn't hear you though.” He said, knowing it was probably highly unlikely.

Hermione shrugged. “That's what I had thought until she said, and I quote, `I'm sorry to interrupt you, but perhaps you should check your surroundings before you sit here and gossip about how you are defiling my son.' Hermione mimicked.

Harry lost it. He doubled over in laughter. “Wow. I don't even know what to say. I lied—I would have loved to see your face after that remark from her.”

Hermione's smiled tightened. “Oh, it gets better. She walked out the door, and I thought she was out of earshot, but no, so she got to hear me say rather huffily, `And how does she know her son isn't the one defiling me?!' So yes, she called back that she had heard that. I'm awaiting my death now. Feel a bit like a sitting duck, to be honest.” She admitted with a grin, glad that she could laugh about this now, here in the dark with Harry.

“Hermione…you are…completely fucking brilliant. That was perfect. I'm glad she heard you. Serves her right, in a way for making you miserable.” Harry confessed, pulling her into a congratulatory snog.

Hermione giggled against his lips. “I'm not! Do you know how mortifying that was!?”

“Which was worse,” Harry asked, moving down her neck, “Ron catching us in the shower, or my dear mum hearing you gossip about how you are `defiling' her son?”

Hermione chuckled. “I at least got my revenge on Ron, and I'd take that any day. Your mum probably thinks I'm a slag or something.”

Harry smiled into hair. “I doubt that. I know for a fact—unfortunately and not because I wanted this information—that my mum wasn't a virgin at your age. Her and my father shagged while they were still at Hogwarts—Sirius walked on them all the time, apparently.” Harry visibility cringed at the thought of his parents shagging.

“Do you think I can use that against her?” Hermione asked, snorting at the very idea.

“I think you need to worry a little less about what Lily Potter thinks…and a little more about further defiling her son.” Harry advised, letting his hands wander under their blanket along her skin, idly wondering if he was ever going to get enough of her.

***

Hermione woke up to the sound of Harry's hand smacking lightly against her back. She was about to shrug it off when she heard him mutter softly, “No, no.” in his sleep. Curious, she rolled over to look at him. Instead of the peaceful expression he normally wore when he slept, he was creasing his forehead and looked troubled.

Hermione shook him away, wanting to relieve him of whatever nightmare was haunting him.

Harry awoke with a start and was breathing heavy. Hermione was hovering over him, obvious concerned etched over her features. “It's okay, it was just a nightmare.” She tried to sooth him by pulling his head to her chest. “Just a stupid nightmare.”

Harry calmed his breathing as he tried to rid his mind of the images in his head—which was growing increasingly difficult. The few fleeting memories triggered by senses of déjà vu that had been plaguing his mind the last few weeks—usually forgotten or forced from his mind—were solidifying. Instead of waiting for something to trigger the scenes from his dreams, he was starting to remember them when he woke up. Like now, in his mind's eye, he could still picture the dark room with a long table in it, several faceless figures looking up at him while laughing at the body sitting on the table before them. Bloody and covered in dirt with brown hair stringy and unkempt, Hermione's face had looked up, meeting his eyes. The voice coming from his mouth, however, was higher pitched and cold. The same voice Harry heard in the back of his mind on his birthday—Voldemort's.

The other matter was his scar still throbbing painfully. Harry did not let his expression betray the pain he was going through. Hermione cradled his head against her chest and asked if he wanted to talk about his nightmare.

“I can't remember what it was.” Harry lied, grasping a handle over his shaking. “It was bad, something happened to you.” This part was true, and it seemed to be enough to satisfy her.

“Don't be silly, Harry. I'm right here.” She whispered.

Silence overcame both of them, and Harry pulled closer to Hermione. He allowed her to hold onto him tightly as he tried to clear his head. For hours, neither said a word. Harry wasn't sure if Hermione had drifted off to sleep or not, but he stayed wide awake, afraid to fall back asleep. He was slowly realizing he was getting glimpses into Voldemort's mind—what he didn't know was if they were being fed to him, or if he was seeing things simply from the Dark Lord's perspective. Why would the Dark Lord let him see into his mind, unless the Dark Lord had no control over it himself?

Why did he see Hermione bound on that table? That wasn't real. Even while he wondered, he knew the answer was right there, staring at him. The Dark Lord had a vendetta against Harry—that much he knew. The stupid prophecy had made him a target. To make matters worse, Voldemort would never forgive or forget that Harry had been the one to strip him of his powers as a baby, even while Harry had nothing to do with it.

He wanted Harry dead at some point. Harry felt Voldemort didn't particularly care about it at this moment, seeing as how if he wanted him dead, Harry would probably be dead. In the meantime, he was going to torture him with images—Hermione helpless and at the Dark Lord's mercy—that would happen if he failed, and Voldemort knew Harry would be unsuccessful.

Lying there in Hermione's arms, Harry vowed to train harder. He couldn't leave Hermione to that fate.

“I would worry less about her fate, and more about yours, Harry Potter.” The cold voice taunted in the back of his head.

***

“Why aren't we just Apparating” Hermione asked as she and Harry walked down some random Muggle street in London.

“Because, you have to go through this way at least once in your life, so may as well make it your first. I can't believe you've never been to Diagon Alley.” Harry said, pulling her along. They needed to buy merchandise for the match the next day, seeing as how neither one of them had any clothing supporting the teams. Also, Harry was excited to show Hermione Diagon Alley in general.

“When exactly was I supposed to go?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. “I figured going into a community that is sure to hate me…probably not the best move, yeah?”

Harry ignored her and finally came to a stop. He gestured dramatically in front of him. “I give you, the Leaky Cauldron.”

Hermione looked at the small hole-in-the-wall looking pub before her taking up a small corner on a busy block in London. There was a large wooden sign that looked like it may fall down at any given moment with the words THE LEAKING CAULDRON printed on it with a black cauldron threatening to bubble over beside the words. Peeling paint that was fading to gray from black and dirty windows caked in decades' worth of grime stared back at her. Compared to the many Muggle building surrounding it, the place looked like a complete eye-sore. She noticed the Muggles on the street didn't even spare the shop a glance. Could they even see it? She doubted it.

“It has a certain…charm.” Hermione said uneasily, hoping they had gotten the wrong place.

“I know, right?” Harry replied happily before towing her forward. Inside was only a little better. An old bar keep was behind a long bar, cleaning glasses. A bus boy of sorts was clearing off a table, though Hermione noticed it was cleaning itself for the most part, and the bloke was really reading the Daily Prophet.

The man behind the bar looked up and suddenly let go of his glass and rag, which continued to levitate in the air and the rag carried on cleaning the glass. “Great Scott—it's Harry Potter!”

“Er…hello, Tom.” Harry greeted with an uncomfortable nod. The few patrons that were in the small pub all stopped what they were doing and stared at the newcomers. “Just…passing through.” Harry said, and he pulled Hermione through the pub before anyone could stop them.

“That was awkward.” Hermione said as he pulled her out into a very small courtyard that was empty save an overflowing dustbin that's contents were moving and a few broken chairs. The courtyard ended in a brick wall.

“I haven't really been out in public. That was…interesting.” Harry responded, feeling uneasy. After being practically marooned with Hermione and his friends over at Sirius's house, he had forgotten about what was going on in the Wizarding World, and that he was suddenly becoming very well known for something he didn't even remember. How bad was this going to be? “I've forgotten all about that.”

“Exactly how drastic does this go?” Hermione asked, looking up at Harry. “We should have had the Daily Prophet delivered to us, just so we could have stayed in the loop.”

Harry shook his head. “The Prophet in complete rubbish. Last I saw of that it was deeming me The-Boy-Who-Lived or something like that. Best to steer clear of their lies, I say.”

Hermione gave him a look as if to she already knew that. “Haven't you heard the phrase, `keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?'” She asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry shrugged. “I'd rather just keep you close.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Now forget them. Forget them all for a bit. I don't want your first trip to Diagon Alley ruined by a bunch of people that don't really matter in the first place.”

Hermione grinned. “Fine. Forgotten. Now how do we get in?”

“Pull out your wand, and tap this brick right here three times.” Harry said, pointing at the centermost brick in the wall—three up and two across from the dustbin.

Hermione did as she was told, and the brick suddenly began to shake before each row of bricks collapsed into itself, one by one until a large archway appeared the lead into a bustling street. Hermione's mouth fell open surprise. Shops lined each side of the small cobblestone alley before them. It was busy, but not overly crowded.

“Well, let's go!” Harry said, towing Hermione forward. “I think I know a few places you might want to take a look at.” He winked. “Luckily, we're coming here right before Hogwarts letters are sent out. This place gets very crowded once everyone has their school lists. Think we made it just in time.”

Heart pounding in excitement, Hermione rushed forward—ready to explore this new place. She had always wanted to come here, but was always too scared and let Clarence buy her supplies and books. Now, braver than ever, Hermione was ready to make up for lost time.

Hermione was reminded of Hogsmeade, with more shops and no housing. She pulled Harry along with her as she let her eyes take in the various shops. There were shops for inks, robes, books, animals, and several other things. Restaurants broke up the shops every so often, some with tables out in front of the shop under large, colorful umbrellas. Pasted on some windows were WANTED posters of witches and wizards that had recently broken out of Azkaban several weeks ago. Hermione walked over to one of them featuring an angrily, mad-looking witch with mounds of black curly hair and a thin, sallow face. She glared at Hermione through heavily-lidded eyes. Bellatrix Lestrange. “Draco's aunt.” Harry said from behind her. Hermione looked closer at the picture before her. The woman looked fiercely terrifying.

She turned back around and plastered a smile on her face, resolute to not let Voldemort or his Death Eaters ruin her first trip to this magical place. “Let's go.”

There were shops with spell book displays in their windows, while others had cauldrons or owls. Harry showed her Eeylops Owl Emporium, where they both purchased treats for Miguel and Hedwig. They stumbled into Flourish and Blotts, and Harry had to drag Hermione from the premises, but not before she bought two new books. Her excitement was catching, and Harry couldn't remember having a better time in Diagon Alley. They stopped for ice cream cones at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor for a frozen treat that changed flavors every minute. Harry got several looks, and even a few shout outs by random strangers that recognized him from his name being splashed across the Daily Prophet every day, but the two ignored them for the most part—he even had to threaten some shady-looking bloke who kept following them with a camera.

“And this is Ollivander's, of course. Always a bit nerve-racking to go in there at eleven.” Harry said, gesturing to an old shop with a dusty purple cushion holding a solitary wand in the dirty window.

“Ollivander's Wand Shop. Why is it nerve-racking?” Hermione asked as she read on the sign.

“Well, you know, in case you can't find a wand. I was there forever, going through wands. Didn't think I'd every get one. `The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter.'” Harry laughed, remembering the unsettling experience and mimicking the old man's mysterious words.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, confused and looking down at her own wand.

“You know, when you go through all the wands until one feels right? Or…how did you get your wand, exactly?” Harry asked, peering at her wand as well.

Hermione shrugged. “Clarence bought it for me. She came here and bought it, I suppose. What do you mean when you said the wand chooses you?” She asked.

Harry frowned. “That's odd. I mean, I've heard of people using others' wands—Ron didn't get his own wand until he was thirteen. He had used his brother, Charlie's, old wand. But anyway, when you actually go in and get your own…it's weird. He goes through all these wands and has your perform magic with it, and tries to find the one that's perfect for you—the wand that chooses you. It's actually an incredible process, and I'm sorry you never got to do it.” He said softly, as he could see the hurt in her brown eyes that she had missed out on such a milestone in the Wizarding World.

Hermione gave him a tight smile. “I still got a good wand, yeah? It's fine. I don't need a wand to choose me or whatever. Shall we continue?” Her voice was even, but Harry could see she was a little bothered.

A birthday idea churned slowly in his head as he cast one last look at the wand shop before letting Hermione tow him forward, and he met the light blue eyes of Ollivander himself staring back through the grimy window. He winked and bowed his head slightly at Harry, causing the younger man to walk faster.

“This is Gringotts Bank, but I think we'll skip that place. It always gives me the creeps. Ran by goblins. Vicious little fuckers. Never get mixed up with them. They keep your gold deep underground, and you've got to get on these carts and ride through these caves.” Harry said, and felt Hermione shudder at his side. “Plus, I think it's about time to catch up with Ron and Draco over at the twins' shop anyway. Then we can go to Quality Quidditch Supplies and head home, I suppose. Maybe we can hit somewhere in London for dinner.” He said, glancing at his watch.

They met up with Ron and Draco at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Ron and Draco had worked that day to make some extra cash—mainly being guinea pigs for new products. When Harry and Hermione caught up with them, Draco had blue hair and Ron's face was covered in purple spots.

“What's going on?” Harry asked, grinning.

“They're getting the antidotes. New products.” Draco explained. Hermione raised her camera and snapped a picture of the two of them. “Thanks, because this is something I want to remember.” Draco said sarcastically.

“We're going to go look around.” Hermione said, sticking her tongue out at Draco.

The shop was by far the most crowded one yet. Kids of all ages were bustling around, yelling and shouting at each other, even a few adults. Hermione browsed the shelves, impressed. “They're geniuses.” She acknowledged as Harry picked a few things up from a table.

“Pretty much. Completely brilliant.”

“Why thank you, Potter.” A voice said cheekily behind them, and the two turned to see one of the redheaded twins standing there.

“Hey Fred.” Harry greeted, shaking the ginger's hand.

“Harry, always a pleasure. And it's Hermione, right?” He asked, looking over at Hermione.

“Yes, it's nice to see you again. This shop…it's downright amazing.” Hermione said in honestly, letting her eyes wander around at the different clouds of colored smoke and colorful products promising uninterrupted daydreams, free afternoon after skiving off classes, hats that made your head disappear and several other products.

“Aw, thank you. And I hear you're a bit of a goody-goody, so it's always nice to hear from the opposite end of the spectrum—here, take a free Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher. Not that you need it, but hey, it cures everything from boils to blackheads. Might come in handy!” He said, handing her a small pink pot.

Hermione took the offered product and pocketed it. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He brought his hand up and talked behind it as if they were sharing a secret. “But if you want a love potion, feel free to swipe one. I won't tell him.” He said with a wink, pointing over at Harry. Hermione laughed.

“And of course, Harry, your offer stands as always: anything you want. We haven't forgotten that your start up loan.” He said, referring to Harry emptying his bank account—the funds he and his parents had been saving up for his future or “possible Muggle education” as his mother put it—and handing it over to the twins to start their business because he believed it them and their money had been taken from them by a gamble with a shady Ludo Bagman at the Quidditch World Cup just a few years before. By the time Harry's parents found out about it—almost a year later—there wasn't much they could do, and had agreed that while they didn't approve of his actions, they were proud of him for using the money to help out someone in need of it.

Harry grinned. “Thanks, but I think the birthday package should last me awhile. And, my parents told me that you two really helped out with the bike…honestly, consider us above and beyond even—please?” He asked his best mate's older brother with a smile.

Fred only smirked in response. “How's the bike treating you, now that you've mentioned it?”

“Fantastic. And the shop looks…looks like it's thriving.” Harry said, looking around at the crowd.

“Aye, that's only because it is. Thinking about putting up a branch in Hogsmeade—just something small so the student can refill throughout the school year. Hopefully it will lower the owl orders—it's ridiculous, mate, could barely keep up last year. I'd feel bad for taking Zonko's business but…well, business is business. We need more employees, and for that, we're going to need a bigger payroll budget. It's business-one-oh-one, really.” Fred said with a shrug.

Harry nodded in agreement. “Sounds good to me. You'll get business from the villagers as well, I'm sure.”

“That's what we're counting on. But enough about this boring business talk—did you see Malfoy and my brother?!”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, caught them at the door. Do I even want to know?”

Fred shook his head. “No, product isn't ready yet. Didn't expect those results, but what the hell—that's why we pay them!”

The two blokes laughed before they were joined by George, Ron, and Draco, who looked like they were back to normal.

After another twenty minutes at the Weasleys' shop, the four of them made their way to Quality Quidditch Supplies. One step in, and Hermione knew they were going to be awhile. The boys' eyes lit up like Christmas trees as they walked deeper into the shop. While none of the boys were particular fans of the Wasps or the Arrows, the seats were in Wasp territory, and apparently it would be dangerous to wear anything supporting the Arrows around the fans. Hermione found a black top with the team's mascot on the chest and “Wimbourne” written across the back between the shoulders in yellow. She shrugged, found her size, and grabbed it from the hanger. The boys, however, had to look at all the new merchandise first, salivated over the new Firebolt Ultimate world-class broomstick, and even priced new sets of Quidditch balls before even thinking about taking a look at the team sportswear.

Hermione paid for her shirt and walked over to Harry, who was reading aloud the new broomstick's specifications. “Harry, I'm just going to take a look next door, okay?”

Harry looked up. “What?”

“Next door. I'll be right back.” Hermione repeated.

Harry shook his head. “That's not a good idea. Here, I'll go with you.” He said after looking longingly at the broom.

“Harry, I'll be fine. Calm down. I'm a big girl—I tie my own sandals and everything , remember?” She joked, alluding her a very short and early conversation between the two what seem liked years ago.

Harry didn't look like he liked the idea. “Hermione…”

“I'll be fine! I'll be right back! Find your new shirt!” She exclaimed before turning around and heading for the door.

Once she was out of the shop, Hermione scanned the shops before her. She had a hard time ignoring all the posters glaring at her from every shop, different gaunt-looking faces, however. Three members of the Lestrange family. Dolohov. Rookwood. Mulciber. Travers. The names and faces kept flashing before her. Ignoring the chills going down her spine, especially now that she was alone, Hermione turned left and entered the first shop on her path.

The shop was Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions. She was in there for about thirty seconds before swiftly walking out, but not before the sales lady encouraged her to buy a large bottle of Pretty Face Quik Fixe, as she was in “dire need” of it. Too much pink, too much perfume in the air, and too much offense in the sales lady's eyes. She wandered over to the shop that was on the right of Quality Quidditch Supplies, Magical Menagerie.

The shop was small and cramped, and was odoriferous with the scent of animals and their dung. Hermione tried to ignore the unpleasant smell, and walked further into the small, noisy shop. She saw an array of animals, from a giant jewel-encrusted tortoise and poisonous orange snails to Puffskeins and owls. There was a sign for intelligent black rats and another pointing to caged ravens. Hermione examined all of the creatures in delight, her curiosity getting the best of her. By the time she made her way halfway around the shop, she noticed the large, orange furry creature following her. Once she reached the sales counter, it leapt forward, onto the counter, and stared at her fiercely. It had a squashed face, bandy legs, ginger-colored fur, and large brown eyes. Hermione reached out and pet his head, and the large cat purred under her attention.

“Aren't you just a gorgeous little thing, or big thing maybe?” Hermione laughed, scratching him behind his ears.

“His name is Crookshanks.” An old woman said, coming up behind the counter. “Been here quite a while. Hasn't taken to anyone. I'm surprised he's even letting you touch him.” She laughed, nodding in the direction of the cat, who was now on his back and allowing Hermione to scratch his belly.

“Crookshanks? That's an interesting name. Why don't you like anyone, Crookshanks?” She asked, enjoying the soft fur between her fingers. “He's very large for a cat, isn't he?” Hermione observed.

“Crossbreed between cat and kneazle. Most intelligent cat you'll ever meet. Was abandoned but found his way here, and been here ever since. No one wants him, and he has no interest in anyone anyway. Well, except you!” The woman told her. “Half price for you, if you'd like, only because I've never seen him like this!”

Hermione studied the ginger cat in front of her, his large eyes staring at her like he understood everything the woman was saying. He lazily stretched one leg, then the next, making a show of it before leaping straight into Hermione's arms. Hermione laughed. “Well, I guess I don't have much of a choice, now do I? I'll take him!” She decided on a whim.

“Hermione, there you are! What happened to five minutes?!” A voice spoke behind her. Hermione turned to see Ron making his way into the shop. “Harry was going to come after you, but I already had my shirt, so I said I would. And what in the bloody hell is that?” He asked, eyeing Crookshanks uneasily.

Crookshanks swiped at Ron threateningly, as if daring him to come any closer to his Hermione. “This is Crookshanks—isn't he beautiful?” She asked, holding him up for Ron to see. “I've just bought him. Can you hold him while I grab some food and a basket?” She asked, handing him over to Ron.

Ron gingerly took the cat from Hermione, but Crookshanks was having none of it and scratched Ron on his arm and jumped down to the floor.

“Bloody hell! Fuck you, you stupid cat!” Ron raged, inspecting his bleeding wound. “You honestly bought that monster?!” He looked over at Hermione, eyes wide.

Hermione giggled. “Must not like gingers. Come here, Crookshanks.” Hermione cooed, and the cat came straight up to her, and Hermione could have sworn the cat was glaring at her, as if to say `You aren't handing me to that idiot again, are you?'

Hermione looked over at Ron, “Can you get his food and basket, please?”

Ron glared at her, but went ahead and did as she asked. Once everything was paid for, and with Hermione carrying Crookshanks and Ron carrying a bag of food and his basket, they returned to Quality Quidditch Supplies just as Draco and Harry were heading for the door.

“What is that?” Draco asked, his eyes on Crookshanks.

“It looks like either a very big cat or quite a small tiger…” Harry said slowly with dread in his voice.

“He is a monster.” Ron sputtered. “And your woman bought the damn thing. Tried to kill me just a few minutes ago!”

“I like him already.” Draco smirked.

“Oh, Ron, hush. He heard you insult him—of course he doesn't like you. You don't like the red-haired mean man, now do you, Crookshanks? I don't like him myself half the time.” She said with a wink at Ron.

“Here. She's snogging you, you can be her butler.” Ron said, shoving the food and basket into Harry's arms.

“Can I bring him with me, or should I drop him off at my parents' house?” Hermione asked, looking over at Harry.

“Er…Sirius won't mind. You can bring him.” Harry said, not liking the look the cat was giving him.

“Brilliant. Shall we Apparate home, drop out stuff off, then maybe hit somewhere in London for dinner then?” She asked, repeating Harry's plan from earlier.

“Home or Hell, to give them back their devil?” Ron muttered, giving Crookshanks a wide berth. “I swear he's plotting my demise right now! I can't sleep with this thing in the house! He'll scalp me!”

***

“So you're in then?” James asked, staring out at the morning sky with Harry, sipping his morning coffee.

Harry laughed. “Yeah, looks like it. Made the marks.” He said, referring to his results for his N.E.W.T.S. that he had gotten the evening before that had been waiting on them once they returned from Diagon Alley. He had done it. Top grades in all his courses—all the ones that mattered anyway. Hermione had top grades in everything; Ron and Draco had done decent enough as well. They had returned to London for dinner, as planned, but with reasons to celebrate now. He told his parents, and his father had showed up here first thing in the morning and caught Harry just after his shower.

“And how's your training going?” James asked, looking over at his son.

Harry shrugged. “I feel good about it. I'm working harder than ever. My birthday last week was a bit of a setback in the diet department, but I've made sure to get in more than enough runs to make up for it. I'm ready for September.” Harry replied, thinking over the last week and his work out plan. He had stuck to his word. With every nightmare he had, he ran twice more than he was supposed to. He practiced more difficult spells. He practiced complex scenarios that tests his stealth and problem solving with the help of his friends. He ran longer. He ran faster. He could feel the soreness in his body from working out harder. His muscles were stronger. Even Draco, who had always been in top notch fitness when it came to running, couldn't stay with Harry in their recent runs together in preparation for Quidditch trails a month away. With his extreme training over these last several weeks, there was no denying the change his body had undergone. He had gone from being already in decent shape to being thoroughly well-conditioned.

His father nodded approvingly. “It shows. I'm proud of you, son. So is your mother.”

Harry took his in father's words with a grin.

“And how are things between the two of you?” James asked, looking back towards the house where Hermione was still sleeping in Harry's bed.

A grin caught Harry's lips, just like it always did when Hermione was mentioned. “Really well. I love her a lot, Dad.” Harry admitted, dropping his gaze and kicking a rock on the patio.

“I can see that. Must be someone special to get even your attention.” The older man said with a laugh.

Grin still in place, Harry nodded. “She is special.”

“Your mother…er…I'm supposed to tell you to not make any stupid decisions. Apparently she overheard a bit of conversation, and so now she's all, `she's going to get pregnant' and `he's going to ruin his future.' Oh, or my personal favorite, `You tell him, James, you tell him he better be smart or I'll cut his penis off, I swear I will.'” James chuckled heartily with his son as he mimicked the woman they both loved dearly.

“Er…now I know to steer clear from her if I value my penis at all, thanks for the heads up.” Harry said, feeling slightly awkward. It was worse talking about this with his father than it was Sirius.

He readied himself for the lecture he knew was going to come, but James just continued to laugh. “You know your mother—dramatic little witch, she is. All I'm going to say it…be safe. I know you aren't stupid. And it's obvious you love the hell of out this girl. I can understand falling in love with someone you have no business loving, trust me.”

Surprised, Harry raised his eyebrows. “Really? You don't want to disown me? You like her?”

James drained the last of his coffee. “I trust your judgment. I trust Sirius's judgment. I trust Dumbledore's judgment. If all three of you agree on something, it would a bit stupid on my part to go against you. Your mother…you know she hates the family more than my family does, that's just her motherly instincts. Sirius has told me she's a lovely girl. Bright. Kind. Beautiful. Says she too good for you, to be honest.” He chortled, giving his son an affectionate shove.

“She is. She's way too good for me. Beautiful person inside-and-out.” Harry described, though it didn't seem like enough praise. He couldn't stop himself from going on, “Completely gorgeous. Nicer to people than they deserve. Bleeding annoying know-it-all. You think Mum pushed me in school…” Harry shook his head back in forth, “This girl was nuts. But she's smart as hell—knows everything, I swear. You should see her on a surf board; that was a laugh. Doesn't have an athletic bone in her body—she'd trip over her own feet just trying to run.

“And in an argument, the little witch has always got to be right. Most stubborn person I've ever met. Scared of taking risks, so naturally I've got to force her into any sort of adventure. She secretly loves it though, I think. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to push so hard, but I guess it wouldn't be her if she just went along with what I wanted, yeah?” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “That would just make things too easy on me. It's definitely a battle with her half the time, but that's love, right? Fighting whatever you have to to keep together because that's what you want more than anything? I'd do anything for that girl, I swear.” Harry confessed, his gaze on the sun slowly rising in the pink sky.

James was silent for a moment, and Harry turned to see a silly grin on his father's face. “What?” He asked, a smile slowly spreading on his own face.

“You've got it bad, mate. This girl…she's got you more than you even know. I can tell.”

Harry shrugged, wondering if he said too much. He just wanted his parents to know Hermione like he did—well, not exactly like he did—and be able to approve of her. He didn't honestly care if they did one way or another, but it was important to Hermione. It would also be easier if Hermione didn't feel like she had to walk on pins and needles in front of his mother all the time.

“I was obsessed with your mother since…well, as long as I can remember. Similar situation—she was way too good for me. Luckily, you're smart. You didn't act like a prat that proved you didn't deserve Hermione. I was terrible. Too immature. Too mean. Your mother…she was a goody-goody. I fought so hard to get her attention—never really occurred to me until our Seventh Year that I was getting bad attention from her. But once I straightened out…well, you know the rest.” James recounted his own years at Hogwarts, going after a girl he had no business falling in love with.

Harry listened to his father's words with a grin. “Mum makes you happy. You make her happy. I wish she would see that Hermione makes me just as happy as Mum makes you.”

“She will. Don't worry about her, Harry. Your mother has a weakness or two, and I know all about them.” He said knowingly, and Harry shook his head with a laugh. James looked down at his watch. “Great Scott—I've got to get going. Enjoy the match today; be careful son. Let us know when you get home, if it's not too much to ask. You know how your mother worries. And don't do anything that's going to get your penis hacked off!” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and gave him one last meaningful look.

Harry watched as his father was about to Disapparate, but stopped suddenly, as if a thought occurred to him. “By the way, give yourself some credit. You say Hermione is too good for you…don't sell yourself short. I think you're more evenly matched than you think. You've grown into a fine young man—we are all very proud of you.”

Harry's throat was suddenly too tight to speak. His father seemed to understand his dilemma. He winked and said easily, “Enjoy the match!” Before spinning and Disapparating on the spot.

Harry walked back inside the house, where a freshly-showered Draco was lying on the couch. “Hey mate.” He greeted Harry, who was leaning in the doorway.

“Hey.” Harry replied with a half-smile.

“Figured we should leave by noon. Thought about taking a nap beforehand, just in case the match runs late.” Draco said, moving and trying to find a comfortable position. His body was sore from their run.

“Good idea. Think I'll go wake up Hermione to see if she wants to take a nap too.” Harry replied, turning around to head in the direction of his room.

“You aren't really taking a nap, are you?” Draco snickered as he got up from the couch and followed, but heading for Sirius's room instead.

“Nope.” Harry called behind him. He winked at Draco as he passed by before opening his bedroom door and closing it quietly. The curtains blocked out most of the gray morning from his room. In the darkness, Harry saw that Hermione was asleep, tangled up in sheets and a blanket twisted somewhere in the mess on his bed.

Harry removed his shirt as he strode over to foot of his bed. He pulled the blankets and sheets free from the imprisonment that was Hermione's legs. She was lying on her side, one hand stretched across the bed while the over was coiled around one of his pillows. Her shorts had ridden up high enough to make Harry's thought take a perverse turn. He licked his lips, imaging her face if he woke her up with his mouth on her…there. Did he dare? Since his birthday shower the week before, oral pleasure hadn't been revisited, despite being on his mind quite a few times. He didn't know if she suddenly felt like they weren't ready, or if she was just too embarrassed to bring it back about.

He knew he definitely wanted it brought back about. He was more than willing to return the favor; in fact he was happy to give it a shot without her doing anything to him at all. He had no idea what he was doing, however, and was a little nervous to try in case he was complete rubbish at it. Nervousness hadn't stopped Hermione, however, he realized. Harry had learned quite a lot since they started dating—most of which had been learnt these last three weeks. Practicing was the only way to get good at things. He felt a smirk tug at his lips.

He could feel his body responding to his thoughts. His jeans were becoming a little uncomfortable, and Harry had half a mind to remove those too. Harry slowly walked over to his side of bed and let himself sink into the space beside her. He lightly traced along her skin from her knee to the hem of her shorts, fantasizing easing them off of her and picking up his tracing with his tongue.

“Fuck.” He cursed wistfully, readjusting his jeans. He grabbed the sheet from the floor and covered himself and Hermione up before he rolled over, his back to Hermione. As if sensing his return, Hermione moved to her back and propped up her smooth, warm legs and draped across his side. The contact of skin on skin made him smile as he closed his eyes, one hand curling around her ankle.

He laid there for several minutes, content with a little down time on his own, stewing in his thoughts. He wondered how much longer they were going to stay here on the beach. He thought about what all these dreams about Voldemort meant, and why he remembered half of them while the others seemed to disappear in smoke when he woke up. He figured it had something to do with his psych. He didn't want to have these images in his head. He didn't want this intrusion. Sometimes, however, simply willing the memories away wasn't enough. If he guessed correctly, these were the thoughts Voldemort wanted him to see. The others, he figured, were just freak accidents that slipped between the two due to this weird connection with his scar. Maybe. Who knows?

He let his mind continue on to the next random subject in his head, which was—surprise surprise—Hermione. She was his go-to distraction in his head. He closed his eyes and let images of her chase away even the worst Voldemort could torment him with. Hermione, warm and soft and safe in his arms. Hermione, his awkward and sexy girlfriend, who blushed at the word “blowjob” but that's hadn't stopped her from sneaking into his shower and giving him one, and not only that, but took Ron's teasing like a champ. Hermione, his annoying little know-it-all who would probably have a fit if she knew what he was really dreaming about. The way he saw it, he'd just have to get incentive to dream about other things that weren't Voldemort-related. With these thoughts in his head, Harry craned his neck back to looking at his slumbering girlfriend.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost eight. Desire tugged just below his stomach. Harry licked his lips as he allowed his mind to run wild with fantasies about this woman beside him. He slowly turned around so he was facing her, careful not to jostle the bed too much with his movement. He played with the idea of waking her up. Should he? Would she be mad? Did this make his a selfish, horny git?

Or would she appreciate it? Maybe she wouldn't mind being woken up. Knowing Hermione, she would want to get a good head start on the day, with the match this afternoon and all. Hermione hated being unprepared. Harry looked back at the clock and tried to calm his nerves and desire. Snape . Snape in a dress. Filch in a dress. Snape and Filch in dresses, doing the tango.

Ugh.

That image was almost enough to make him forget about it.

Almost.

Grinning to himself, Harry maneuvered so he was at the foot of the bed. It was still quite dark in his room, but there was enough light for him to see without trouble. He pulled the sheet aside to reveal Hermione's legs. He allowed his hands to gently caress her from her ankles up to the middle of her thighs. Needing only a little courage, Harry ducked his head between her thighs. His thumb stopped just short of the hem of her shorts. He pressed his lips to her inner thigh, jetting his tongue out to taste her soft skin. He easily pushed the hem of her shorts higher until finally her cotton knickers were in view. His thumb caught the side of the crotch of her knickers, and he slowly eased it to the side to give himself access to her.

Harry took a deep breath before picking up his kisses on her thigh, but slowly moving them up her leg until he was there on her. Her taste was new to him, but he decided immediately that he liked it. He liked the idea of her taste being on his tongue. Unsure of what to do, he just went for it. Licking and kissing and sucking everything and anything he could reach. He felt her legs jerk and immediately he pinned her hips to the bed as she woke up from his tongue attacking her naughty bits.

“What? Who—Harry! What are you...doing?” She asked weakly, attempting to sit up and catching him between her legs with a guilty smirk.

He leaned forward and kissed her chastely on the mouth before returning to his previous spot. Silently, he reached for the waistband of her shorts and knickers and gave them a soft tug. In response, Hermione lifted her hips and allowed for Harry to pull the offensive clothing down her legs. Harry gave her a small push, and Hermione eased back down to her pillows while Harry's lips found the inside of her thigh again teasingly. Her fingers threaded through his hair, twisting the ends slightly. Harry maneuvered her legs to drape over his shoulders to give him better access.

He had no idea if what he was doing felt good or not. Hermione's legs were trembling slightly against his neck, so he took that as a good sign. With his tongue busy on her clit, he used two fingers to pump slowly inside of her. He had gone down on her for several minutes if seemed like, enjoying every whimper that fell from her lips before she finally let out a loud moan. Her hands fell away from his hair—one tangled in his headboard while the other gripped his sheets. Her hips bucked slightly, and Harry grinned against her. He used on free hand to keep her hips pinned to the bed while he used the fingers on his other to continue to thrust in and out of her. He looked up to see that she had put a pillow over her face in embarrassment, but Harry would have none of it. He released her hips for a second to grab the pillow and toss it away. No, he was definitely going to watch this the best he could.

When he was about to pull away because he thought his tongue was going to just cramp up and fall off, he felt the familiar signs in his girlfriend that she was about to climax. She was biting her lips and her curled toes dug painfully into his sides as her hand left the headboard and twisted in a death grip in his hair, but he didn't care. He forced himself to keep going, using her loud cries of satisfaction as fuel. He pressed harder against her, thrusting his fingers faster. And just a few seconds later, his dedication was rewarded with a very long, very loud, very sexy, and very satisfied sound coming from Hermione's lips—a cross between a moan and cry of his name.

Harry lazily used to tongue to aid her in prolonging her pleasure as she slowly came back to the ground. After a few seconds, he finally pulled away and crawled in his spot beside her, licking his lips. She looked completely disheveled in the weak light; her hair was a mess, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed. She looked freshly fucked, in his opinion, and he couldn't stop himself from grabbing her by the back on her head roughly and crashing her lips to his.

Hermione pulled away after a few minutes, still pink in the face. She rested her forehead against his. “That was…bleeding fucking brilliant, Potter. Good work.” She grinned. “Best alarm clock ever.”

Harry grinned and kissed her. “Are you sure? That very loud moan of pleasure and you screaming my name wasn't hint enough.” He winked as his cocky smirk found its way on his lips.

Hermione shoved him playfully. “I did not scream.”

Harry shrugged. “I think you did.” He closed his eyes and pulled a face full of pleasure, “Oh-oh…yes…Oh Merlin Harry…right there…oh, oh, oh, oh God yes…oh HARRY!” He mimicked in a high voice. He was exaggerating, but it still felt nice on his ego, knowing he made her half-shout his name all by using his tongue. He grinned as Hermione rolled her eyes at his immaturity. “I hope that was okay. I mean, we haven't talked about…er…you know…” He trailed off.

“Oral sex?” Hermione supplied helpfully, raising an eyebrow.

Harry laughed. “Yeah, oral sex. I know we haven't talked about it since…well, since you surprised me in the shower on my birthday, and let's face it, no real talking there…But yeah, I hope it was okay that I just went for it.” He grinned.

Hermione smiled and her cheeks tinged scarlet—not from pleasure this time, but embarrassment. “It's fine. It's not that I don't want to try again, it's more…I'm nervous, and almost feel like I forget how to, if that makes any sense. I mean, not that I knew how to to begin with, I just feel like…I'd end up missing and getting poked in the eye or something. I'm frightened of messing up.” She joked, shaking from giggling slightly.

Harry pulled her into a kiss. “I promise not to poke you in the eye. Don't be nervous. In the shower…it felt really really good. I'm sure it will again. But if you want to wait until you're more comfortable…that's fine. We can wait. No rush. I can always do you again.” He winked. “Probably have to use my fingers because I don't think my tongue can take it twice in a row like that, but I suppose we could always find out.” He let his fingers trail up her inner thigh persuasively.

Hermione caught his fingers just before they reached their target. “Thanks, but how about I take another shot?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and pushed him roughly against the pillows. She maneuvered herself so she was straddling his hips. Harry moved to take her shirt off, but Hermione batted his hands away. Harry held his hands up in surrender before threading his fingers comfortably behind his head. Hermione tongue ventured from his neck to his torso, swirling deliciously on his skin.

Hermione felt her nerves melt away as she felt Harry's excitement against her leg. Even if she was rubbish at it, she knew it would still please him. After what he had just done for her, she was eager to try again to see if she could make him moan like that. She undid his belt buckle and flipped open the button on his jeans. She looked up at his face, his eyes closed in contentment. She tugged his jeans off, then his boxers. Hermione took him in her hands, enclosing her hand around him. She glanced once more up at his face and saw him watching her this time, his eyes begging for her to keep going. “This isn't a free show, Potter.” She grinned wickedly at him before pulling the sheet over her head.

***

Screamin' no!

We're never gonna quit, ain't nothing wrong with it

Just acting like we're animals

No, no matter where we go `cause everybody knows

We're just a couple animals

So come on baby, get in

Get in, just get in

Check out the trouble we're in

You're beside me on the seat, got your hand between my knees

And you control how fast we go by just how hard you wanna squeeze

It's hard to steer when you're breathing in my ear

But I got both hands on the wheel while you got both hands on my gears

By now, no doubt that we were heading south

I guess nobody ever taught her not to speak with a full mouth

“Animals” NICKELBACK

***

Hermione examined her reflection in the mirror in front of her, turning to see herself from all angles. Her makeup was done. She was dressed in a pair of denim Bermuda shorts that were cuffed at her knee, and she wore a black top with a large yellow wasp splashed across her chest to show her Wimbourne pride—which did not exist. Her hair was pinned up in a mess on top of her head, so she tied a yellow and black bandana up in her hair to hide her horrible hairstyling job. Her fringe fell just above her eyes. Hermione put in her small silver hoop earrings last, letting them dangle freely without the mess of her hair to hinder them. She inspected herself once more, looking back at her butt in her jeans, then realized she had no idea if it looked good or not. With that silly thought in mind, Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed her plain white trainers and sat on Harry's bed. Once she was finished, she decided, as she stared in the mirror for the tenth time, that she actually looked very cute. Her skin was lightly tanned as she had soaked up what she could of the sun between all the rain. Her eyes were bright with excitement, or perhaps she was in a good mood from her activities with Harry earlier that morning. Maybe her brilliant N.E.W.T.S. marks had something to do with it, opening up several opportunities for her. With a shrug, she gave herself a few squirts of perfume before heading for the kitchen where the boys were already gathered.

“Hermione.” Ron welcomed, a smirk on his lips.

“Ron. Draco…Harry.” She greeted, leaning over to kiss Harry chastely.

“Thought you were dying this morning, by the sound of it. Woke me up, even.” Ron said, trying to keep a straight face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She looked over at Harry, “Did you put him up to this?”

Harry shook his head as he hid his guilty grin behind his hand. “I told you you were loud.”

Grinning pleasantly, Hermione advanced on Ron. “Sorry for waking you. Your best mate has quite the devil tongue.” She winked over at her boyfriend. “But don't worry. It won't happen again—didn't realize we were interrupting anyone's sleep.”

Ron looked over at Harry before fixing his previous statement. “It didn't wake me up. Barely heard you. Actually, might have even been the telly.” He suggested innocently. “You know how I fall asleep watching the romantic comedies.”

Hermione nodded. “The telly? You sure?” She asked.

Ron tapped his head thoughtfully. “Yes, I'm sure of it. Don't go cutting my best mate off over nothing now. Take it from someone who's been a little hard up since he got with Luna—and I'm fine with it by the way—but I don't want to wish it on my best mate now. So yeah…probably the telly, or Harry telling me to say that…really, does it matter?” Ron chuckled uneasily.

Hermione gave Harry a mock pointed look, who was suddenly very interested in his protein shake while fighting a grin. She returned her gaze to her redheaded friend in front of her. She leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his temple. “You're lucky your offensive charm in slightly endearing to some people, Ronald Weasley.” She laughed before going to Harry. He leaned in for another kiss, but Hermione smacked him lightly on the back of his head. “You've always got to involve everyone, don't you!” She laughed.

“What!?” Harry asked, his eyes widened in innocence. “Just…making morning conversation. Draco brought up Australia—”

“When did I bring up Australia, mate?” Draco interrupted.

“And I figured I'd contribute to the conversation in telling them of my recent adventures down under.” He finished, keeping his voice naïve.

Hermione stared at her boyfriend silently for several seconds before bursting out in laughter. She grabbed a piece of toast and headed out of the room, but not before calling behind her, “It's okay. Share with your mates. Just wait until I tell Ginny all about your particularly small penis!”

Harry stood there with Draco's and Ron's eyes on his, eyebrows raised. Harry rolled his eyes. “We've lived together for seven years and been in the locker room together— you blokes have seen it. You know I don't have a small penis! Not saying I'm gifted but I'm normal!”

“Haven't seen it as much as Hermione, mate. Can't be sure.” Ron replied cheerfully. “Wow…some call you The-Boy-Who-Lived…those closer know your real name—Small-Penis-Man!”

***

This is going to be completely, bloody fucking brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, almost tripping over his own feet in excitement as they finally made it to their row of seats. Their tickets were surprisingly good considering their price. They were almost eye-level with the game, or where the game would be taking place anyway.

Harry sat on the end seat, with Hermione next then Draco and Ron. Even Hermione, who was not a fan of Quidditch, had a grin on her face. “This is fascinating! Look at all the people!” She said, looking over the stands.

Harry laughed. “Wait until you go to a Quidditch World Cup…it's…there are no words to describe that experience. Just…just brilliant.” He said, unable to find the correct words to convey how amazing it was.

Hermione shrugged. “Maybe next time.” She squeezed his hand and turned towards the game. One their side, yellow and black blanketed the crowd. On the opposing side, it was pale blue. Hermione had already seen five fights break out between the fans where some participates needed medical attention due to the nasty curses thrown between the rivals, and had witnessed several threats. Someone in blue had made a remark to her while standing in line for a drink, but shrunk away when Harry, Ron, and Draco all towered over the middle-aged man threateningly. These fans were mad.

“It's starting!” Ron said excitedly, pointing at the field as a referee flew to the center of the pitch, a chest under his arm.

“Witches and Wizards, welcome! The Wimbourne Wasps versus the Appleby Arrows!” A voice roared from somewhere, catching everyone's attention. Hermione watched as the flashing billboard—advertising the very shop where she had purchased her shirt, Quality Quidditch Supplies—changed to show an enormous wasp. The announcer had stopped talking, and Hermione heard a buzzing noise. Suddenly, she saw a dark cloud approaching. As it drew closer, the buzzing noise grew louder. She realized it was thousands of angry wasps once it entered the pitch. The cloud of wasps—giant wasps the size of a dogs, she'd reckon—separated into a large W. Half of them shifted into the shape of an arrow, while the other half came together to make bow, and shot the arrow straight to the ground and caused it to be destroyed. The wasps all flew back to eyelevel for a second, before swarming over the Arrows fans furiously.

All of a sudden, silver arrows shot from the stands at the angry wasps, forcing the swarm to back off. Centaur s made of something that looked like pale blue smoke materialized from the ground, over a hundred of them, all with bows and quivers stocked with silvers arrows on their backs. They weren't real centaurs, but a smoke form of the creature. They shot arrow after arrow up at the wasps, angering them further. They swarmed down on the centaurs, but the creatures simply disappeared into the ground and materialized again somewhere else.

Hermione watched the show before her with wide eyes as the mascots battled it out on the pitch. Cheers from both sides rang out. Finally, after several minutes and a disgruntled ref later, the mascots were separated to their respected sides of the pitch, and the starting line-up was called out, shooting across the pitch so fast they were a blur to Hermione.

“They're all riding the Firebolt Ultimate!” Ron gushed, peering through his special omnioculars. He offered them to Hermione, and she saw, once they were slowed down, the broom that had her three boys salivating the night before.

Hermione toyed with her own omnioculars that allowed her to magically slow things down, rewind, get the play-by-play, and even flashed the name of the players involved and any special Quidditch maneuver going on in their perspective. The knobs and dials confused her, so Hermione tried watching the match the normal way. She didn't know the people playing anyhow, so why did it matter if she knew who was doing what.

The match was, apparently, very exciting. She watched as Harry, Ron, and Draco roared together about bad calls, excellent goals, and brilliant strategy. There were a lot of wistful comments as well, about how “they should have tried that” or “that's what was missing from their Quidditch season.” Hermione had no idea how they could even see what was going on in the game half the time. Still, it was a good time, just watching how excited they got. Seeing Harry this rallied only confirmed her thoughts on how perfect of a gift this was, and she was certainly grateful that Ron and Draco had purchased tickets to go along with them because she knew she certainly wouldn't have been able to interact with Harry the way they were.

The match lasted for almost five hours, and Hermione was done by the time they came up on hour number three. She was glad to see it end, even if the Wasps lost. Neither she nor the boys really cared that much. Ron was only concerned about what this meant for the Cannons.

Getting out of there was going to be impossible. Somehow, they made it to the ground and followed the milling crowd towards the Apparation area that wasn't restricted with charms. Harry kept her hand tight in his own, careful not to lose her in the crowd or the growing darkness. He was still discussing the match with Ron, Draco, and a few others that were walking with them.

They passed a few fights, which seemed to multiply now that the match was over. Wasp fans were not happy. Shouting and cursing was the norm, so when Hermione heard someone scream, she didn't think anything of it.

Then she saw the fire on the campgrounds that some people were utilizing—the die-hard fans that had to come here days before and were planning on partying their win or nursing their loss with other like-minded fans. However, tents were on fire and people were screaming in panic. Harry had a death grip on Hermione's hand. She reached back and grabbed Ron's hand, who in turn grabbed onto Draco's arm as Harry pulled them forward and over to the side to see what was going on.

Ministry wizards were rushing forward, trying to control the unknown panic. “Return to the pitch! Return to the pitch!” They urged, demanding the crowd to turn around.

“Harry! They said turn around!” Hermione cried, trying to pull Harry back. Harry stopped and looked at her, then Draco and Ron as if he was trying to figure out what do to.

“Ah, Death Eaters!” A woman cried, tears in her eyes.

Harry looked back at the calamity before them. “Take Hermione—no, wait…fuck!” He cursed as he tried to make the right decision. He didn't want Hermione from his sight, but he didn't want Hermione around the danger.

“Mate, you aren't going up there alone.” Ron said, looking at Harry like he was mad. “Either come with us…or we're with you.”

“No one is taking me anywhere.” Hermione said defiantly, glaring at her boyfriend.

The four stood there, at the edge of the crowd as people pushed into them and past them. With the crowd in front of them thinning, Harry was able to catch a glimpse of what was ahead of them. A group of men with cloth masks on and black robes were levitating a family—Muggles who ran the campground—in the air while setting fire to tents and the trees, blocking off the Apparation point.

Several Ministry wizards were on the ground, stunned or possibly worse. Harry had no idea what to do, but his strongest instinct was to get Hermione to safety. “Fuck!” He cursed again, before pulling Hermione as well as the rest of the group off the path, through a thick row of tall hedges with thorns. By the time they made it to the other side, they were all scratched and bleeding. “Come on!” Harry said, running forward towards a tree that overlooked the campsite. It was dark by now, and Harry didn't dare light his wand. Once he was at the tree, he turned around and grabbed Hermione. “Up you go.” He said, and within seconds he had her levitating up in safely into the tree.

“What are you doing!?” He heard her hiss; he could just make out her face from the light of the fire.

Harry took a few steps back, then ran forward and grabbed the lowest limb, mid-jump. Soon, all four of them were in the large tree, safe from view. Harry climbed farther than them all to the branches over the campsite to get a better look. He saw a few of the Death Eaters had been taken down, but the destruction was getting worse, and the Muggles were still screaming in terror. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this situation.

He looked back at Hermione, who look more horrified than he had ever seen her, and Ron and Draco didn't look much better. They were both pale and scared, and he figured he mirrored them. They were trapped. He had a feeling the Death Eaters were after him—it was too much of a coincidence for them to show up at the exact Quidditch match that he was at by mistake. An event that Voldemort could have easily picked from his mind, if his other theories were correct.

“Fuck.” Harry whispered, leaning back on the branch behind him. “I think they're here for me.” He confessed, looking over at his friends.

“What? That's insane!” Ron said. “Just…the Ministry will handle it. We just need to wait it out. They're more qualified than we are.” He said, looking over at the many fires blazing beside them. “Maybe treeing ourselves wasn't the best of ideas.”

“Why do you think that?” Draco asked, his voice serious.

Hermione was silent and just started at Harry, as if she could see that he hadn't been completely truthful towards her, given his sudden admission.

Harry didn't answer, and only stared back at Hermione, guilt etched all over his face. A familiar voice suddenly reached his ears, causing him to jerk his head over to the campsite. Sirius was conversing wildly with Mad-Eye Moody, devising a plan of sorts. “Be right back!” Harry whispered before deftly climbing down most of the tree before jumping to his feet silently. He rushed over to Sirius.

“Harry!” He pulled his godson into a hug. “You need to get out of here.”

“Sirius! How did you know they were here? What's going on?” Harry hissed, looking over as he heard another explosion.

“No time. Where are the others?” He asked, ignoring Harry's inquires.

“In the tree, hiding. I saw you so I rushed over here. What do we need to do? I can't just leave!” Harry insisted.

“Tree…that's smart. Stay out of sight.” Sirius said, pushing Harry back in the direction of the tree.

“But Sirius—I can fight. I've been training. Just let me—” Harry began, but was cut off.

“Harry, get back in the tree and stay there. Do as I say, now!” The authority in Sirius's voice surprised Harry enough for him to take a step back and he momentarily forgot the danger that was surrounding them. “Go!”

Harry turned around and ran back to the others and joined them in the tree.

“What did he say?” They all asked in unison.

“He said…he said to stay where he we are.” Harry said, slightly defeated.

“Haaarrrrrrrryyyyy Pooootttttttttttttteeerrrrrrr.” A voice cooed from the crowd, confirming Harry's fears of their target. However, hearing his name coming from their lips, it still caught him off guard. He looked over and saw Sirius staring in his direction, a warning on his face.

“Are you going to?” Hermione asked, her voice hard, but her grip on him even harder.

Harry thought for a second, and watched as the group of men turned the Muggle woman upside down, flashing her knickers to the crowd. They laughed, and called his name again. “Haarrrrrryyyyyyyy. We just want to talk.” It was a woman's voice, and Harry noticed Draco's eyes harden. Most likely his aunt.

“No.” Harry said, wrenching his arm from Hermione and jumping straight for the ground. “Don't move, any of you. I'll be right back!” Harry called up to them, and before they could say anything, the sound of his footsteps disappeared in the darkness.

***

I gotta fight today
To live another day
Speakin' my mind today
(My voice will be heard today)

I've gotta make a stand
But I am just a man
(I'm not superhuman)
My voice will be heard today

It's just another war
Just another family torn
(My voice will be heard today)
It's just another kill
The countdown begins to destroy ourselves

“Hero” SKILLET

As always, please review, and I'll see you all next weekend (?).

Thanks for reading.

*~Archie~*

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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Hi everyone. Here is the next chapter—I hope you all enjoy. It's a little shorter than the last few, but action packed so that should balance out. Don't forget to review—beginning to think four people read this story, haha. Anyway…

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

CHAPTER SIX: A Marked Man and an Oath Taken

I'm at war with the world and they
Try to pull me into the dark
I struggle to find my faith
As I'm slippin' from your arms

It's getting harder to stay awake
And my strength is fading fast
You breathe into me at last

I'm awake I'm alive
Now I know what I believe inside
Now it's my time
I'll do what I want 'cause this is my life
here (right here), right now (right now)
I'll stand my ground and never back down
I know what I believe inside
I'm awake and I'm alive

I'm at war with the world cause I
Ain't never gonna sell my soul
I've already made up my mind
No matter what I can't be bought or sold

“Awake and Alive” SKILLET

Hermione watched as Harry jumped carelessly from their safe haven in the tree, and landed with a thud. “Don't move, any of you. I'll be right back.” He called up to them in a hushed tone, and Hermione's first instinct was to follow. However, the sound of his footsteps grew silent before she could even register what happened.

Once her mind caught up with the situation, she knew at once that she had go get down and go with him. It didn't matter that she had no idea where he went, or what direction he had gone. All she knew was that she was supposed to be with him. She needed to be out there to protect him the best she could. She made a move to blindly follow, but felt two sets of strong arms pull her back.

“No, Hermione. You're staying.” Draco whispered authoritatively.

“Don't be thick!” Ron exclaimed at the same time.

Hermione turned to look at the two boys she had momentarily forgotten were sharing the hiding spot with her. “What? You're just going to let him go out there—alone!?” She asked in disbelief.

Both Ron and Draco had uneasy looks on their faces. Hermione immediately understood it wasn't any easier for them to stay behind than it was for her.

“I'll go after him, you stay here with Draco. Having you out there is only going to make him worry even more, and he needs to stay focused.” Ron decided.

“Don't be a prat. You don't know where he went. Let's just…just wait. We're right over the `battle field' if you will, so if anything happens, we'll know. We shouldn't split up. Harry said he'll be right back.” Draco said, craning his neck to see the Death Eaters below them. “And when he gets back, we'll all take turns killing him for leaving.”

Hermione moved to jump down again, but Ron grabbed her by her shirt and pinned her against the trunk of the tree. “I'm serious, Granger. You aren't going anywhere. None of us are—for the moment, anyway.” He declared solemnly, looking thoroughly pissed with the turn of events.

Hermione glared at the fire reflecting in his blue eyes from below where chaos was abundant, feeling turmoil slowly clamp around her heart.

Hermione tried to pull away from his grip, but he did not release her. Defeated, Hermione slumped back against the tree. “He has ten minutes, and if he's not back by then, I'm going down there.” Hermione promised vehemently, glaring at the pair of them, who remained silent.

***

Harry had no idea what in the hell he was doing. Crouched and running along the hedges, he listened intently to the situation just on the other side of his shield. He couldn't make out much in the darkness, and the sounds from the Death Eaters were growing faint as he continued in the opposite direction from the fight.

A groan caused him to stop in his tracks. Scanning the darkness before him, he could just make out a lumpy shape a few feet ahead. It looked like a person. He slunk forward gradually, wand out and ready to attack at any second.

As Harry advanced, he noticed the person on the ground was injured. He recognized him as a reserve player for the Wasps, and he was clutching his leg in pain. Sensing no danger, Harry hurried forward and dropped to his knees next to the Quidditch player.

“My leg.” He gasped through gritted teeth. “I was on my broom, trying to get out of here, and…” He winced in pain, “And it got shot down. I think it's broken.”

“Stay still.” Harry warned. It was a bloody mess, with his leg dangling at an odd angle. “This is going to hurt.” Harry maneuvered his leg to straighten out before aiming his wand at the broken appendage. He used a simply healing spell that should at least ease some of the pain and let the bone begin to mend—though he doubted he had set the bone right in the first place. It was the best he could do, however, in the pressing time.

The area was deserted for the most part, and Harry felt the man was in very little danger. He couldn't bring him along, that was for sure. He had to move, and get to the Death Eaters. If he knew his friends, he knew he didn't have much time before they came after him. He was half-surprised he had managed it this far. Harry had faith in Ron and Draco to keep Hermione safe as their primary concern. The last thing he wanted was Hermione to be in danger.

The Wasp player looked better than before Harry had found him. “I'm going to go now. Someone will find you. Just…don't move. That's a pretty basic healing spell—you are barely on the mend. It should help with the pain, however. And…I'm going to borrow this, by the way.” Harry said as he got an idea when his eyes caught sight of the player's broomstick, slightly battered but still in usable condition.

“What? You can't just take my broom!” He objected, but Harry had already pried it from the man's grasp and was walking away.

He threw his leg over the broom and kicked off the ground. If he hadn't been in the dangerous situation he was in, he knew he would have been able to relish the fact that he was riding a Firebolt Ultimate. He would have been able to enjoy the amazing speed and the familiar feeling of the wind whipping through his hair. He would have been impressed with how brilliant the handling and maneuverability was on this newest broomstick model.

However, it wasn't a time to play. Instead, he flew around in a large U-shape and shot back towards the Death Eaters. He used the trees to conceal his presence as he circled the camp ground. Wand at the ready, he sent a well-aimed Stunning spell at one of the men in the masks and watched him crumple to the ground. He fired a second spell and was able to take down one more before someone had noticed.

“Someone is out there!” A man shouted, wildly spinning around.

Harry aimed another curse, but missed. He shot forward several feet as to not give away his position. If he kept moving—especially at this speed—they wouldn't be able to catch him. However, it was also increasingly difficult to Stun anyone when he had to move so fast, and now that their awareness was piqued.

“You! Find the sniper!” The ring leader of the group said, grabbing a random man by the front of his robes and pushing him away from the group. “You!” he said, pointing to another Death Eater, “Help him!”

Crouched behind a tree, Harry trained his wand on the leader. He fired a curse, but narrowly missed the man's head. Instead of Stunning him, it only riled him up even more. “HARRY POTTER!” The man roared, spinning around to look at all of his surroundings. “Get out here before the Muggles have to suffer even more!” He yelled. “I have a message for you that I must deliver. No one has to get hurt—except this bleeding sniper!” He bellowed, his eyes searching madly for the source of their phantom attacker.

Harry ignored his words, and instead trained his eyes on the Muggles. They seemed to be at the edge of everyone's mind, at this point. Torturing them had grown tiring compared to the phantom sniper. He wondered if he were stealthy and quick enough, would he be able to rush by and grab them, one at a time, and bring them to safety? He doubted it. There was no way he could rescue them on the broom.

In his pondering, Harry had slowed in the air, and someone must have seen him from the light of the fire. He felt the heat of a curse fly only inches from his left ear. “There! On a broomstick!”

`Fuck!' Harry thought, and shot forward recklessly in panic. Several curses flew in his direction, and one hit the tail of his broomstick and caused him to spiral out of control. He barely registered that he was quickly losing height as the ground came rushing up to meet him.

He landed in a mess of tree roots and shrubs. He heard the horrible crunch of his bone snapping and felt an almost blinding pain shoot up his right arm. He cursed loudly and held his arm in a tight grip, but it did nothing to ebb the immense throbbing.

“Ah, we have our sniper. And look who it is…Harry Potter, himself. Our guest of honor has finally joined us.” A voice drawled behind his mask as the tall figure advanced on Harry slowly.

Harry suddenly felt foolish sitting in a mangled shrub with his wand nowhere in sight, gripping his broken arm. He was completely defenseless against the many armed Death Eaters surrounding him.

The leader was now standing before him, and he unmasked himself. Lucius Malfoy. Sleek, long blonde hair and a haughty expression, Harry immediately recognized Draco's father.

“An impressive fight, Mr. Potter, for such an amateur.” He said lazily.

Before Harry could respond, however, his body was engulfed in the most horrifying pain imaginable. A scream ripped from his throat as his eyes screwed tightly shut. White hot knives were stabbing his body everywhere, twisting painfully, surely ripping his skin and innards. His muscles were on fire. He was on fire—blinded by the agony as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Then, just as suddenly as the attack came, it stopped. The only evidence from the torture was the ache of his muscles from them seizing so sharply. He felt his head loll to one side, and saw just how bloody he had become. Had they really set him on fire? His clothes were torn and battered, but not scorched.

He registered that they were laughing at him. Just as he realized this, however, he was hit by the Cruciatus Curse for a second time, and he only just heard the high-pitched “Crucio!” before he was on fire again.

Then again, it was gone. “Aw, does the wittle baby not like that?” A voice taunted, and Harry looked up to see a witch he recognized from the Wanted posters and Daily Prophet as Bellatrix Lestrange staring at him with an evil smirk on her face. Her wand was pointing at him still. “Let's see if we can try again, shall we? Maybe you'll grow to like—” Her voice was cut off as Harry watch in absolute horror: Hermione dropped from the tree she had been hiding in straight onto Bellatrix's shoulders, forcing her to crumble to the ground.

Before Harry knew what he was doing, he tried to scramble forward but was met with a curse from Lucius that caused him to fly backwards. Bellatrix had gained enough of her bearings to stand, her hand fisted in Hermione's hair and her wand at her throat. “This must be the lovely Hermione.” She huffed, giving a hard yank on Hermione's hair that caused Hermione's head to snap back painfully. She shoved Hermione towards the ground. “I'm taking this as you volunteering to take the pain for him.” She sneered, aiming her wand at Hermione now. “Crucio!”

“NO!” Harry shouted, his eyes meeting Hermione's for a split second before she was hit with the spell. She looked terrified. She twitched on the ground, her screams filling his ears for only seconds before out of nowhere, Ron and Draco dropped from the tree as well, landing ungracefully on the ground. In the midst of the confusion, Sirius rushed forward, roaring mightily with his wand aimed at Bellatrix.

Harry's eyes widened as the scene before him transformed immediately. Order members were rushing forward, but not nearly enough of them. Sirius and Bellatrix were caught up in a fierce duel. Lucius was surprised by the sudden appearance of his only son, standing between his target and himself more than by the feeble attack from the members of the Order. Ron had picked up Hermione and was carrying her over to where Harry was, out of the way of the dueling. Harry gripped her hand, though his eyes never left Lucius's scowl.

Gaining his composure, he said indifferently, “Step aside, Draco.”

Draco refused to budge, and deliberately drew out his wand with a trembling hand.

“I'm not going to hurt anyone. It would be wise for you to move.” Lucius repeated, but again Draco didn't move.

Out of nowhere, Lucius's hand drew back and he backhanded his son across the face with enough force to make Draco lose his balance and fall to the ground, perhaps more out of surprise than anything else.

Lucius loomed over them, with Ron and Draco the only ones that had their wands in hand. “I am not here to kill you, or capture you, Potter. I am simply relaying a message.” He glanced back at the mess behind him, spells shooting in all directions. “This is your fault. Had you just come clean to begin with, no one would have had to have gotten hurt.” His eyes wandered over to Hermione, who was dirty and bleeding from her bottom lips, as well as a large gash on her cheek.

Harry shifted his body in front of Hermione protectively, while Ron and Draco also maneuvered themselves between Lucius and Hermione. Lucius stared at Draco for a moment as if to fully take in the profound meaning of this subtle movement: Betrayal to his family, and loyalty to his friends.

“What is it you have to say, then?” Harry asked boldly, trying to appear braver than he felt.

Lucius smirked. “A simple salutation from the Dark Lord, Potter, and a reminder that he has not forgotten about you. You haven't suffered enough yet for you to have his permission to die. He sends his regards in hoping that you are in good form…for now.” Lucius spoke softly, and Harry had to listen hard to catch the words falling from his lips with the explosions just a few feet away.

“I don' t believe I need anyone's permission for anything.” Harry responded icily, glaring at the man in front of him.

Lucius smirked in response before quickly turning on his heel and emitting a loud noise from his wand. The Death Eaters had the upper hand in the fight, with their numbers greater than the few members that could have been summoned so quickly. They immediately all turned and in a blur they ran for the Apparation point with only a few wounded enough to be forced to stay behind, captured. With one last shout and explosion from the tip of someone's wand that caused a green light to flare up towards the sky, they were gone.

Harry's eyes followed the green light until it exploded in the sky and formed a green skull with a snake slithering from its mouth as a tongue. The Dark Mark moved as if in a slight wind against the inky black sky. A new addition to the already terrifying symbol blazed beneath the skull, a name clearly legible for everyone to see: HARRY POTTER.

Harry stared up at the promise glaring down at him, with its several implications forming in the back of his mind: they could have easily killed him tonight; Voldemort will kill him in the future; he had to wait for Voldemort's permission to die; and right now, he was a marked man.

He tore his eyes away from the image in the sky to look at Hermione, who was white as a ghost. Harry cleared his throat. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, raising his hand to lightly touch her cheek. She flinched as his thumb gently brushed her wound. Instead of replying, Hermione's face turned downward, avoiding his gaze.

“What were you thinking!?” A voice asked suddenly, causing Harry to jump and look towards the source of the outburst. Sirius and his father were both rushing forward, looking concerned and rightly pissed off at the same time. “I told you to say where you were, Harry! I said to stay out of sight!” Harry had never seen his Godfather so angry.

James dropped to his knees in front of his son. “Oh, Merlin, look at your arm.” His father tried to take Harry's arm in his hand gingerly, but Harry gasped in pain as the anguish came back full force now that there was nothing to distract him.

“Don't!” He panted as his arm seared with pain. He looked up to see Hermione staring at him with an unreadable expression on her face. Harry realized she had dropped his hand from hers at some point, and had moved back a little, as if she was frightened of him.

“We have to move you. Can you stand?” Sirius asked, his anger vanishing as he took in Harry's state. “I'm no good at Healing spells. Where's Lily?”

James shook his head. “She was sent over to the pitch with Arthur and Molly to make sure the Death Eaters didn't go after the spectators. Here, let's just…” His father attempted to set his arm and used a basic Healing charm, the very one Harry had used on the man he found with a broken leg.

Harry felt the pain in his arm recede to a dull, but still a very painful throb. Sirius and James helped him to his feet while Hermione, Ron, and Draco gave them a wide berth.

“Let's get them all out of here. I'm going to take them home. Can you help get this mess squared around?” James asked, looking back at the small campground where a few Death Eaters had been rounded up and Ministry wizards were putting out the fires. “They've all gone—Shacklebolt chased them but they disappeared once they reached the Apparation point.” Harry noticed his father seemed to be making a great effort in refusing to look up at the Dark Mark that tried to seal his son's fate. “I want them out of here before everyone from the pitch gets released.”

Sirius drew his wand and muttered something under his breath, and Harry watched as giant dog Patronus erupted from the tip of his wand and bounded forward in the direction of the pitch.

“You lot—come with me. I'm taking you home, and Lily will get you all sorted out.” James said, beckoning the four teenagers forward.

“Wait—my wand. I've dropped t.” Harry said, looking around frantically.

“Mine too.” Hermione added quietly.

“Accio Harry's wand. Accio Hermione's wand.” Sirius summoned, and both wands came whizzing to his outstretched hand, Harry's from the shrubs and Hermione's from the direction where she tackled Bellatrix.

Silently, they made the short walk to the Apparation point. “Where are we going?” Ron asked once they made it past the barrier.

“Godric's Hollow. Harry, I'll side-long you—you're in no condition to Apparate.” James said, grasping Harry's good arm firmly. “One of you side-long Hermione, just to make sure she gets to the right spot.” He added, looking back at Ron and Draco.

Ron reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand securely in his own, looking down at her. With a loud pop, they all Disapparated.

Inside, Harry was sitting on the couch, nursing his mending arm. Hermione sat beside him, still with a distant expression on her face. Ron sat at her feet, despite the plenty of extra space on the couch and chair while Draco sat on the armrest beside Harry like a watchful knight. It was as if the group was not ready to fan out just yet and needed the close-knit security of one another.

No one spoke as they waited in silence. It wasn't long before the door burst open and Lily rushed into the room. She was met with four teenagers looking worse for wear: Harry was bloodied and bruised with battered clothing, a swollen and bruised arm, blood smeared across the side of his head along with dirt, and finally various scratches on his face and arms; Hermione's hair was a tangled mess and blood was caked on her face and arms, and she had a black eyes as well as her lip was swollen and busted open while a deep gash was on her cheek; Draco and Ron were both sporting several cuts and dirt on their faces and arms, but overall looked relatively unscathed in comparison to Harry and Hermione.

“Oh, goodness—look at you! What happened, James? I got Sirius's Patronus telling me to come here, everyone was okay, but this lot needed patched up immediately.” She said, gesturing to all of them. James began relaying the encounter to his wife, starting with the little response from the Order they had gotten on such short notice as she dropped to her knees in front of her son.

“We got such a little response that we were trying to hold off—going in there was suicide. Sirius and I were marking a parameter with Moody and a few others watching the Death Eaters.”

Using her wand, she cut the fabric of Harry's new shirt—which was already ripped up—so his whole upper body was exposed to her eyes. Her fingers gently traced the scrapes, gashes, and bruises he had gotten in the short period of time. “Accio, medical kit.” She summoned her kit, and began to pull out various bottles of healing salves and such.

“Do Hermione first.” Harry requested softly, clenching his teeth in pain. Hermione moved to object, but Harry cut her off. “Just fucking do it, Hermione. Please just listen to me for once?” Harry muttered almost rudely, causing Hermione to pause in her objection, and her expression changed to one of complete disbelief. It would have been equally as surprising had Harry slapped her in her face.

“Harry! That is not a way to talk to a girl.” James chastised, a clear warning in his voice as he interrupted telling his wife about how Harry had been sniping the Death Eaters via commandeered broomstick, something he and Sirius had found out after the Death Eaters had escaped.

Harry said nothing and continued to stare straight ahead as his mother moved over to Hermione, silent. Hermione let the woman work her over, applying a brown liquid to her wounds speedily, and the effect was immediate. Hermione felt as if someone had literally just beaten the shit out of her. The woman muttered a few Healing spells under her breath, and Hermione felt her pain evaporate, along with her facial wounds.

She moved swiftly and wordlessly on to Harry's broken arm. Harry's groans of pain did not slow her movements, and she softly muttered, “I know, I know it hurts baby. I'm almost done.”

Her work stopped, however, upon hearing James's next words. “We heard the screaming and tried to come as fast as we could. Moody…was watching—he should had intervened. He let…he sacrificed for more time…Harry was on the ground with them, and the Cruciatus Curse…”

Lily let out a quiet sob and her hand flew up to her mouth as she listened.

Harry tried to ignore the obvious pain in his father's voice as he spoke of hearing Harry being tortured by Lucius and Bellatrix. “Mum, I'm alright. It's fine. I'm fine.” Harry whispered consolingly. His mother was able to gain some composure and within minutes with trembling hands, she had his arm good as new. Harry flexed his arm back and forth experimentally. She then applied the Essence of Dittany to his cuts as well, careful not to miss a single one. She dropped a kiss to his bare shoulder before moving on to Draco and Ron.

Once all four were taken care of, Lily turned her attention to James. He had a few cuts, but nothing unmanageable. Harry took in his parents' appearance for the first time, and felt relief: his mother looked completely unscathed while his father's clothes seemed to have taken most of the beating, and not his actual body. Now that they were all healed, and Lily was up to speed with the events that had occurred, she slowly put her medical supplies away and finally addressed the four of them for the first time since she walked in. Her demeanor betrayed her shaking from hearing what her son had gone through, but her tone still came out harsh, “Would you please like to inform me why you thought you could just go rushing into this fight after Sirius gave you clear instruction to stay where you were!?” Lily asked, glaring at her son.

“What was I supposed to do, just sit there and let them torture—maybe even kill—those poor Muggles?! They wanted me, and they weren't going to leave until they got what they wanted.” Harry replied in his defense.

Lily's expression hardened, and Harry could tell she was holding back her words, perhaps because his friends were there and she did not want to go completely Lily-Potter-Mental in front of them all. “You think you are an adult, Harry, but you aren't. Your decisions keep proving that over and over. Do you realized what could have happened? You could have been seriously hurt—you could have been killed! You could have gotten Ron or Draco or Hermione killed. Or Sirius or your father—because they had to rush in and save you.” She responded, her voice and temper rising.

Harry stood up so that he was towering over his mother intimidating.

“Sit back down, Harry James!” She commanded angrily, and Harry immediately dropped back down to the couch, almost cowering. “You do not get a say in this—any of you. I don't want any explanations because there is not a good enough excuse for any of it. Harry—rushing off alone with Death Eaters around and trying to take them on single-handedly. Grown wizards who are far more talented than you. You've been training for a month and a half, and suddenly you think you know what's best!? You think you know how to protect yourself? You don't know a damn thing, Harry.” She said severely, pointing an accusing finger at her son.

“And you, Hermione—you aren't my child, but right now you are in my house, and you will listen to what I have to say. Jumping out of a tree, onto the back of Bellatrix Lestrange—do you know what she does? Do you know how many people she's killed and tortured? What were you thinking!? You knew Order members were there, and they would have taken care of it. Yes, Harry was in a bad situation,” a look of terror washed over her features at thinking of his situation before continuing, “And I can appreciate you trying to help him, but you have to look at the big picture. Putting yourself in danger will not help matters.”

Her eyes roamed over to Ron and Draco. “You all have to look at the big picture. If you want to be included in this fight, you have to obey orders. Sirius tells you to stay back, you stay back. Abandoning reason for recklessness…this is a war. That is how you get yourself or others killed. What if something would have happened to someone who had to rush in and save all your asses because you couldn't have just listened?” She asked, looking at each and every one of them.

“These are dangerous times. These are dangerous situations. Order members were standing by still because there were not enough to take on such a large group. Sometimes, you have to wait.” She lectured, glaring at her son. She looked at Ron and Draco, “Ron, I know your mother is not very happy with you at the moment. Just jumping from a tree…and Draco…” Her voice suddenly softened as she looked at him and he stared back with no emotion. “We are care about you, we care about you all. Sticking together is what is going to get us through this, and we can't have a group of teenagers just going off on their own because they think they know what they are doing. These people we are up against have more experience than the lot of you combined, and they won't think twice about killing you. Don't sit here and ask to be treated like adults, when you still act like children.” She spoke, a note of finality in her voice. “Ron, I have instructions from your mother to send you home. The rest of you—get cleaned up, brush your teeth, and go to bed.” She demanded before turning around to face her husband and she followed him into the kitchen.

“Putting the fear of Lily in the minds of four teenagers. I think you have them scared out of their wits, dear.” James said, pulling his wife into a consoling hug.

“They need a healthy dose of reality.” Lily said crossly, letting him plant a kiss on her lips. “What they did to Harry…” Tears stung her eyes, and James just pulled her in tighter.

“I know. I wish I would have been there—I would have stopped it immediately. It would never have gotten that far. But you know Moody—individuals mean nothing to him. I'm going to have a word with him, however.” James said, his voice hard. “However…at the same time, I'm glad I didn't have to see it. To even imagine that seen…seeing Hermione was rough enough. Sirius rushed in, me behind him.” James spoke quietly, remembering the anguish on the young girl's face.

Lily listened to his words silently, nodding in understanding. She attempted to push the horror from her mind. “I've got to go though—still lots of people need plenty of patching up at St. Mungos. I told them I would be there as soon as I was done at home. Don't let them leave tonight.” She said, looking back towards the living room.

“I think you've scared them into sitting on the couch and rotting for the rest of their lives.” James smiled weakly.

***

Harry led Hermione up to the bathroom upstairs. From his bedroom, he grabbed her some fresh clothes, as well as some for Draco and himself. “Towels. Body wash. Shampoo. The works. Toothbrush is on the sink if you want to use it. Just come back downstairs when you're done.” He said, noting Hermione's icy demeanor that matched his own.

Hermione stood there and waited for him to leave, and after a few seconds of silence, he did.

Draco was eating something in the kitchen with his father, so Harry went ahead and got in the other shower downstairs. He stared at himself in the mirror, covered in blood and dirt. Events from the night kept flashing through his head, but he tried clear his mind. In the shower, he scrubbed his body raw to match his anger.

He was livid with Hermione. How could she put herself in danger like that after he specifically asked her to stay where she was? Watching her drop from that tree had been one of the scariest moments of his life. Seeing her join the fight…it was terrifying. Then once she had been hit with the Cruciatus Curse—even for those brief few seconds—there were no words. He knew even a nano-second of that torture felt like forever. Harry's elbow hit the shower wall in a short burst of anger at the memory. He had thought he had wanted to hurt Avery…that was nothing compared to Bellatrix. He felt as if he could kill her with his bare hands at the moment. On the campground, he had been incapacitated and couldn't have done anything to her then. His arm had been broken in two places. He had Hermione to look out for, as well as see what he had to do to get the Death Eaters out of there and negotiate with Lucius. All he had to do was listen to his stupid threat.

Just like all Hermione had to do was listen. How could she take matters into her own hands, tackle that vile woman, and take the pain that was aimed at him? Why did she have to care about him so much to put her own life on the line like that? He had no doubt that had they been in reverse situations, that he would have done the exact same thing the second Lucius had done the curse the first time, but that was different. That put him in danger. That saved her from pain. He would handle it for her—not the other way around. Hermione taking pain for him…that was unacceptable.

Mulling over his anger, Harry tried not to see the parallel between Hermione's actions for him, and his actions with Sirius. Sirius told him to stay put. He told Hermione to stay put. He ignored Sirius. Hermione ignored him. He had gotten hurt by going against Sirius's wishes. Hermione had gotten hurt by going against his.

He exited the shower only feeling worse—guilt had been added to his anger. Guilt towards Sirius, guilt towards his mother…her lecture made him feel about two inches tall. He was trying to be an adult. He was trying to rise to the occasion—rise above this stupid prophecy. It was his fate, and his fate alone, despite how much he did not want the burden. He didn't want anyone else to get hurt if it could be avoided. He thought he was doing the right thing.

His mother's speech made him wonder if he was. He had put others at risk by being stupid and reckless. If he wanted to be part of the Order, if he wanted to become an Auror, he realized he had a lot to learn still. Patience and strategy sometimes outweighed instincts and bravery.

And sometimes, people had to suffer for the greater good. Just like Moody had watched him be tortured by Lucius and Bellatrix. He hadn't raised alarm in order to prevent Sirius and his father from acting rash at the sight of Harry screaming in anguish. He sacrificed Harry going through pain for a few more minutes of waiting for more Order members to arrive to better their chances. The plan may have worked had the sight not been too much for Hermione to watch. Had his screams not been too loud for her ears.

Suffering for the greater good. Voldemort promised suffering. What was Harry willing to sacrifice? He wouldn't have been able to stand by and watch someone be tormented so—he knew that. Moody was a stronger man than he—or perhaps colder, harsher. Hardened by war.

Harry tried to clear his head while he dressed quickly and left the bathroom. Hermione was nowhere in sight—probably still upstairs in his shower. Draco was sitting at the dining room table, alone now.

“Hey.” Harry greeted, taking a seat across from him.

“Hey. Your dad will be back later—went to check in at headquarters.” Draco replied, his voice barely audible. He was wearing the same expression he had worn for most of the evening—blank, emotionless, troubled.

Harry knew what was bothering him. After their talk in Sirius's kitchen a few weeks before, it was almost too easy to guess. Harry added more guilt to his growing list—he should have expected as much. He should have already checked on Draco before now after what happened. “Stop thinking about it.” He said forcefully.

Draco gave a cold scoff. “I'll just do that.”

Harry sighed. “I know it's not easy but…Draco, they made their choice. They have to live with that. You have to live with that…even though…even though I'm sure it's difficult—harder than I can imagine, I'm sure.” Harry admitted quietly.

Draco was barely holding it together, Harry could tell. His friend suddenly stood up, and Harry quickly followed suit. “I have to get out of here. I just need…I don't know. I can't handle this right now.” The blonde said, trying to shove past Harry to the door.

“No! You aren't going anywhere, mate. You belong here, with us. I'm your best friend, remember? I'm not going to let you go out and do anything stupid.” Harry said, block his route and keeping Draco at bay.

“I don't care, Harry. Don't you get it? I turned my wand on my own father tonight, Harry—my own fucking father. And...and I had to watch him torture my best fucking friend. Do you know how you looked, screaming like that? You have no idea how hard it was to just watch—I was fucking frozen, Harry. I didn't stop him. Even when we got on the ground with you and I was there between him and you lot…Harry…I…I don't think I…I couldn't have done anything.” He confessed, tears in his eyes. “I don't think I could have stopped him from killing any of you—I know how terrible he is, but I couldn't…why wouldn't I have stopped him, Harry? Why would I have failed you guys? For what? My fa-fa…my son of a bitch father, Voldemort's lackey?” Draco was almost screaming by now, pushing forcefully into Harry—not to move him out of the way, but just out of anger at his father.

Harry took it without batting an eye. His mate's emotional state—to see him lose such control was rare and unsightly. Harry grabbed his friend pulled into a tight hug, trying to calm his wild movements. Draco broke down and cried into Harry's shoulder, and Harry didn't let go. This was his best friend. He loved this bloke like a brother. Pushing all of his own problems to the side, he just stood there and consoled his best friend, absorbing every sob that wracked through his body. Quickly, Draco's sobs stopped and he tried to pull away, slightly embarrassed, but Harry's grip only tightened.

“I would never ask you to do that, Draco. No one is expecting you to hurt your family—I would never put you in that position. It's fucking difficult, I know. But you're on our side, and they aren't. You need to accept this.” Harry told him earnestly before allowing him to pull away slightly, but still keeping him at arm's length with his hands gripping Draco's shoulder for a few beats as he stared intently into his gray eyes. After a couple seconds of passing understanding, Harry released him.

Draco dropped back into his seat. “And what if something happens—what if they get to me? What if…what if I become like them?” He asked, looking shamefaced.

Harry shook his head. “We are only going to have this conversation one more time, Draco. I'm not doing my job as your best mate if there is any doubt in your mind where you stand with me. Good, bad. Evil, not evil. What you are, who you don't want to become. This is the last conversation. I'm going to convince you that you are right where you belong. And we're not getting up from this fucking table until you know with confidence that you are the person I know you are and that you are going to fight for what is right—right at my side.” Harry plopped down in his seat and stared hard at his best mate, who looked both stunned but somewhat calmer.

***

Father of mine
Tell me where did you go
You had the world inside your hand
But you did not seem to know
Father of mine
Tell me what do you see
When you look back at your wasted life and you don't see me
I was ten years old
Doing all that I could
It wasn't easy for me to be a scared white boy in a black neighborhood
Sometimes you would send me a birthday card
With a five dollar bill
I never understood you then and I guess I never will

“Father of Mine” EVERCLEAR

***

Hermione toweled her hair in the mirror while staring at her reflection. All traces of the night's events were gone from her face and body—lip, cheek, and eye healed good as new. Mrs. Potter had done a fantastic job in healing Hermione. After a few more minutes of isolation, Hermione moseyed out of the bathroom and into Harry's bedroom. It looked much like his room at Sirius's, just with a lot more things. Hermione considered lying down for a minute, but instead pushed herself back downstairs. She followed the voices and found Harry and Draco sitting at the dining room table, chatting.

Hermione stood at the end of the table silently in pajama bottoms and a hoodie. Draco stood up and stretched. “I think I'm going to go get in the shower now. I'll catch up with you guys later.” Draco walked out of the room, squeezing Hermione's arm on his way out encouragingly.

Harry and Hermione stood there awkwardly for a few beats, tension hanging heavy in the air.

“Where are your parents?” Hermione asked uncomfortably.

“Mum went to St. Mungos to help. Dad will be back soon—went to check on things at headquarters.” Harry replied, getting to his feet. “Um…shall we go outside?” He asked, gesturing towards the backyard.

Hermione shrugged. “Whatever.”

Hermione followed Harry outside wordlessly, halfway across the yard until they reached a small basketball court. “A game of OWL?” Harry suggested, his voice quiet as he summoned his basketball.

Hermione didn't respond and just stood there motionlessly.

“Look, I know we need to talk—about tonight and I know we both probably have issues with each other, but first…just let me…” Trailing off, Harry dropped the ball and strode forward to engulf her into a tight hug, thankful to have her safe and pain-free in his arms.

Hermione hugged him back, needing this reassurance just as much as he did. For several minutes, the just stood there on the court under a small light pole, embracing.

He tried to focus on individual little things, like the smell of his shampoo in her hair and his body wash scent on her skin to keep his anger at bay. He had talked to Draco a little about how upset he was with her, but it hadn't made him feel any better. Finally, he pulled away slowly, but kept her in his arms. He looked down at her, her big brown eyes staring up at him with that same unreadable expression she had been wearing for a better part of the night. He sighed. “I can't believe you jumped out of that tree, Hermione. What in the hell were you thinking?” He asked, his irritation seeping into his tone.

Hermione's eyes flashed at his words as her annoyance flared. She immediately drew away from his grasp. “Are you kidding me, Potter?! Just where do you find the nerve, getting off on attacking me?” Hermione couldn't believe him.

“Attacking you? What about you attacking fucking Bellatrix Lestrange? You could have gotten yourself killed! Do you have any idea how scared I was when I saw you? Why couldn't you have just stayed in the fucking tree like you were supposed to!?” He asked, his voice rising.

Hermione would not be intimidated by her boyfriend. She stretched up to her full height and glared at him straight in his green eyes. “What did you think you were doing, jumping out of the tree in the first place? You weren't supposed to go after them—and if you are, you aren't supposed to go alone, without me! We are a team, Potter. A team!” Her voice rose with each word.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “You can't throw that in my face, Hermione. We're a team, but it is my job to protect you—if I tell you to stay in the damn tree and wait, then you need to stay in the damn tree and wait for fuck's sake!” He growled.

His words only caused her anger to blaze even more. “Oh, since when did you become my boss?” Just who in the hell did he think he was? “I don't have to answer to you, so don't expect me to.”

“I'm not asking you to answer to me, I'm asking you to listen for once. Putting yourself in danger like that…what were you thinking!? You compromised the entire situation.” He said, rambling at this point because his argument was falling apart. Standing here before her, he felt his anger get the better of him and found words hard to find.

“I compromised the situation?! You want to talk all high and mighty on your self-righteous pedestal—Sirius told you to stay put, and you didn't. You can take your hypocritical argument and shove it straight up your ass, Potter.” She half-bellowed, stomping her foot in her frustration.

Harry had no retort because she was right. Taking a new tactic, he replied, “You have no idea what it was like…watching you. I thought they were going to kill you, don't you get that? They tortured you right there in front of me!”

Hermione scoffed. “Oh, and it was easy for me to watch the same thing happen to you?! Seeing you in pain like that,” Tears stung in Hermione's eyes as her words tumbled from her mouth, “I…it was horrible! Watching…that was impossible to see, Harry, and I can't unsee it. The image is fucking burned into my mind, Harry, and…and…” She broke down as her sobs became so violent that her words became unintelligible and she fell into him.

Harry caught her easily and he pulled her flushed against him, very much like Draco earlier except this hurt him so much more to see her like this. She continued to shake in his arms.

Hermione felt Harry's strong arms holding her up. She had lost it. The events at the Quidditch game had been the completely terrifying. The terror. The waiting. She, Ron, and Draco had known it had been Harry on the broomstick immediately. Seeing him get shot down, then tortured by Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange…it had been the worst thing she had ever seen. Then the Dark Mark…As for Harry trying to protect her by keeping her away from the fight…that was something she would not stand for.

Once she gained her composure, Hermione drew away from him. “We're a team, Harry. I won't stand for being left behind. I've told you before, I'm no damsel that can't hold her own. You having no trust in my skills is insulting.”

“Are you honestly bothered because you think I'm insulting you?! It's not that I don't have faith in you, Hermione. I know you can handle your own—that doesn't mean I'm going to stop protecting you. That doesn't mean I'm not going to absorb every ounce of pain I can if it spares you because I love you, and I refuse to let you put yourself in that position again. Promise me—give me your word, Hermione—that you will never do that again.” Harry demanded, grabbing her by her shoulders earnestly.

Hermione's mouth fell open. “What are you asking, exactly? I can't promise something like that, and I don't even know what you want me to promise.”

“You need to promise me that you won't put yourself in danger like that to spare me pain, or…or anything. Swear that you will not willingly put your life out on the line like that because if something happened to you…if anything were to happen…Hermione promise me.” His grip on her tightened to the point of pain, and Hermione forced him to let go of her.

She couldn't believe what he was asking of her. How could she make such a promise? How could she swear to go against every protective instinct she had for him? The kind of instinct that forced her to drop on Death Eaters from a tree recklessly. She shook her head. “I can't—and won't promise anything of the sort.” She spoke, her voice quiet and her expression hard.

“Goddammit, Hermione. Can't you see what you're doing to me? Even thinking about you in danger, or getting hurt…and with Voldemort's threat, and how I haven't suffered enough…and they know, I'm sure they know, Hermione, that the best way to get to me is you. It's you, so I need you to promise me that you will do whatever you can to stay out of the danger—I'm not letting you be my sacrifice, Hermione. I won't allow it.” He said passionately, his emerald eyes boring intensely into hers.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She couldn't give him what he wanted, and that killed her because she felt the same way about him. She would take his pain and make it her own without a second thought. However, with him looking at her like that, with that borderline manic expression, she couldn't refuse him. “I…I promise, Harry.” She whispered, feeling a sob somewhere in the back of her throat as tears slowly slid down her cheeks. “I promise, I…I won't, I promise.” She repeated, and let Harry wrap his arms securely around her body, pulling her as close as possible. It killed Hermione to see him this desperate, just like it killed her to make a promise she knew she would not only have a difficult time keeping, but had no intentions to in the first place.

At that moment, however, Hermione had no idea just how soon she would be forsaking her oath, nor the very outrageous magnitude of her betrayal.

***

I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more

Just a face in the city
Just a tear on a crowded street
But you are one in a million
And you belong to Me

And I want you to know
That I'm not letting go
Even when you come undone

“More” MATTHEW WEST

And the plot thickens!

A/N: Just want to touch base again on what this story is. It is not meant to be packed with lots of drama and action—it is pretty much a small interlude between PVRG and the next story called ?????, so if you aren't liking the “fluff” and them getting to…er…know each other a little more and start REALLY caring and loving each other and want more action, well it's on its way. But like I said, this story is just a short little intermission for Harry and Hermione to show just how quickly and hard they have fallen for each other because that is what is going to be counted on in the next story. This one is wrapping up, my guess is three or four more chapters. And obvious the action will be picking up at the end of this one, and that's already starting so…yay! Almost done!

Well, thanks for reading—please please please please review. I honestly look forward to them. I check my phone several times a day, every day between my posts to check for them…so be nice and give me one. Four reviews last chapter…while they were great, it was a bit of a bummer.

I'll see you all next weekend. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

*~Archie~*

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Hello everyone! I know I know—I said my posts won't take any longer than two weeks, and this has taken me three. I'm sorry, my job has had me working a lot of overtime, which cuts into my writing time. Barely been able to sleep! Luckily, I slept part of my Friday away so I could stay up til 5 a.m. and get this posted for you guys. Not gonna lie, not a whole lot goes on in this one—might be why I was literally falling asleep while writing it—that or I'm really tired, which I am. Haha. Anyway, like I said, not a whole lot is going to go on here, but last chapter was pretty action-packed, and next chapter is going to be pretty big (I think), so this is a little interlude that gets us from points A to B. Hope you enjoy! And for those of you that look at my replies to your reviews, I know I'm behind, I will try to take care of them tomorrow, most of them anyway, haha. I had a lot of song inspiration for this one, as you shall be able to tell! Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter—you guys are awesome.

Disclaimer: I own nothing besides Cliffinshire, and soon that will be gone, and I'll have nothing. This makes me sad. I need ice cream.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Whispers in the Dark (or as my own person name for this chapter that I enjoy, Shit Gets Heavy)

The days grow shorter and the nights are getting long
Feels like we're running out of time
Every day it seems much harder tellin' right from wrong
You got to read between the lines

“Fight the Good Fight” Triumph

Hermione leaned against the counter, her breath caught somewhere uncomfortably between her chest and the back of her throat. Wheezing and shaking slightly, she reached for a cup and filled it with water from the tap. She downed half the glass, and splashed the rest of it on her burning face.

Feeling worn out, she slowly slumped down to the hardwood floor, enjoying the cool wood against her sweating body. She had just returned from a run with Harry and Draco. They wanted to make one more quick round then head for a workout in the garage on Sirius's weight set, but Hermione begged off. Ever since the incident at the Quidditch game, Harry had insisted that Hermione train with him. He wanted her out of danger, but if she were put in danger, he wanted her in top form.

Their vacation was unofficially over. They had returned to Sirius's beach house against Harry's mother's wishes. However, as Harry put it—they had three weeks before September. The likelihood of Voldemort going after him after letting him go at the match was pretty slim. Hermione could tell he had been nervous about returning here, but Hermione was glad he decided to. She wasn't ready to go home just yet, and she didn't want to stay under Lily Potter's watchful eyes either.

She had an inkling that Harry was hiding something from her, and here, she was determined to find out. He was quick to know that the Death Eaters were there at the match for him, and even quicker to respond. Yes, they were in a war, and yes, Harry had already undergone preparations for it with his training and attempting the Auror program, but Hermione hadn't realized just how in deep he had been. He hid his worries well. His dream had been his only slip, and she still didn't know how bad that had been. Something had happened to her, and she had figured it had been at the hand of Voldemort or his minions at the time. Now, however, Hermione couldn't help but wonder else had been haunting him?

It was easy to forget about the war here on the beach, lying in the sun or sitting on the porch and watching the rain. With the sound of the crashing waves and the views of the beautiful cliffs, it was hard to remember they were battling an evil. In some ways, she had forgotten. The war thus far had been in the back of her mind. Now, it was at the forefront. By his quick actions at the match, it seemed like the war had already been weighing on Harry's mind quite heavily, and Hermione needed to know why. Coming out and asking him wasn't an option—he could lie too well, after all, he had hidden his worries thus far. No, she needed him to come to her, for him to want to share with her. However, she doubted that would happen, as he was determined to shield her from the ugliness they were dealing with, which was something she was not handling very well.

Yes, their vacation was over. Instead of days filled with video games and fun at the beach, their activities took a whole new turn. They trained hard—both mind and body. Hermione hated working out with Harry—and Ron and Draco when they were here. After a lot of thought, Draco had decided to not try out for Puddlemere United. Instead, he got a permanent job at the twins' shop with Ron. With everything that was going on with Voldemort, he felt it would be better for him to stay here and be at the Order's expense. Hermione had expected Harry to throw a fit about it, but he hadn't said much. Perhaps he realized their futures were going to be influenced by Voldemort and there was no use fighting it. Perhaps he knew more about what was going to happen than she did that he didn't plan to share, and foresaw Draco needing more time for defense training. Perhaps he saw his best friend as one more body between Voldemort and Hermione. That thought scared her, and she knew it couldn't possibly be true because Harry would never think like that.

Hermione slowly made her way to Harry's bedroom to get fresh clothes for her shower, still worn out.

She was lying on the couch in the living room by the time to two boys decided to come inside, both covered in sweat. Harry sat down on the floor, not wanting to get sweat all over the couch as Draco hopped in the shower first because he had to go to work.

“How are you doing? Feeling alright?” Harry asked with a smile. “You're getting used to it, yeah?”

Hermione gave him a pointed looked. “I'm right terrible at running and you know it. I'm not going to pretend to like it.” She told him over the book she was reading.

Harry grinned. “It won't be so bad. The first couple of weeks are the hardest. Once your body gets used to the stress you are putting on it now and gets accustom to the workout—” He began, trying to sell her the same speech he had since their first run.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. You've only told me a couple hundred times now, Potter. I don't need it again. I'm doing it, okay? I don't have to like it.” She laughed.

Harry shrugged with a smile. “Just trying to be supportive—didn't know that was a crime.” He replied defensively.

Hermione closed her book. “Yes, well, you're being a little too supportive.”

Harry crawled towards her and laid his head on top of her chest. “Fine. I'll be less supportive. You suck and you need to buck up, Granger. Aren't going to outrun those Death Eaters with speed like yours!” He joked, nuzzling her neck.

Hermione tried to push him away. “Ew. You're all sweaty and I already got my shower! You're making me gross!!!”

Harry chuckled. “That's okay. You can take another shower with me.” He said huskily, climbing on the couch with her and catching her lips in a kiss. He unceremoniously pushed her book away from her hand so it dropped on the floor with a muffled thud. His hands caught each of her thighs and wrapped her legs around his hips so he could press closer to her.

Hermione let out a soft moan of approval as his lips began to travel down her neck. With her eyes closed, she whispered his name softly, her hand threading through his hair, uncaring about the dampness of it. Pulling slightly, she guided his lips back to hers hungrily.

“Oh, Merlin. I think I'm going to be sick.” A voice drawled from behind them as Draco made his way over and plopped down on the chair beside them.

Harry pulled away reluctantly. “Go away. Don't you have to be at work or something?” He mumbled grouchily, not moving from his spot despite his friend's presence.

“Soon. Perhaps even sooner if I have to witness the pair of you create your own homemade porno right here on the bloody couch.” He said with a gagging expression.

Harry got to his feet and pulled Hermione to hers as well. “Ha-ha, Malfoy. We'll just be going then—you spewing chunks may very well ruin the mood.” Harry said, towing Hermione in the direction of the bathroom.

* * *

I left alone, my mind was blank,

I needed time to think

To get the memories from my mind

What did I see? Can I believe that what I saw

That night was real and not just fantasy?

Just what I saw in my old dreams

Were they reflections of my warped mind staring back at me

'Cause in my dreams, it's always there

The evil face that twists my mind and brings me to despair

“The Number of the Beast” IRON MAIDEN

* * *

Harry tossed his pen down and peered over the page before him with tired eyes. It was a small journal entry of sorts. The events at the Quidditch match really put in perspective that they were in danger and this war was really going on. Being at Sirius's house, away from the real world, had given them a false sense of security. Yes, he knew there was danger, but actually being thrust into the recent situation he had been, it brought the war to a whole new level. His dreams had been the only connection really to Voldemort, the only reminder that he was out there, no doubt building an army to wage war on the only world he knew. He had attacked them, and had most likely gotten the information on their whereabouts from Harry's mind.

Harry didn't know if his dreams were important, but just in case they were, he decided to document them. Once he returned from training camp, he could bring it up to Dumbledore and see what his thoughts were concerning him seeing into Voldemort's mind, and vise versa. Harry thumbed idly through his small dream journal. He had written a description of every detail he could remember, about when he had the dream, and the pain level of his scar that he could remember from the whole summer. He knew he was missing some, but he figured he at least had all of the important ones. Some even had small sketches, like the inside of a cave, or another of a brown-haired girl bound on a table surrounded by faceless hooded figures. Harry gave an involuntary shiver at the memory.

Tonight, he had been taken to a room full of hundreds of glass spheres on rows and rows of shelves. The room had been dark and unfamiliar. Harry had no idea what that was about. All he knew what that he woke up at three in the morning to a sharp pain in his scar and sweating. He looked at the clock now, and it told him that it was almost half-past three. Hermione, Ron, and Draco were all still fast asleep at this ungodly hour. With a yawn, Harry decided he would join them—he accomplished about all he was going to with his dream. He closed his book and returned to his bedroom. Harry tossed the journal in the bottom drawer of his bedside table before crawling back into bed with Hermione.

His body automatically curved to hers and he pulled her close. He couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety that was swimming in his stomach. How could he be apart from her for two weeks, and have her off in another country, without his protection? Part of him said it was a good idea—she would be far away from Voldemort and safe. Another part of him was terrified because that meant she was away from the Order, away from him…what if something happened?

He couldn't ask her to not go, he knew that. He didn't even know if staying would make her safer. Harry also knew missing training camp wasn't an option either. In a perfect world, Hermione would stay at Headquarters, swathed in bubble wrap until his return.

It was strange, to worry about someone the way he worried about her. He couldn't believe how hard he had fallen for her—well, that's not true. Knowing her, he could definitely see why he would have fallen so hard. However, had someone told him back in September that Hermione Granger was going to become so important to him, that he was going to feel this intensely for her…he would have told them they had gone mad. Not possible. There was no chance in Hell.

* * *

When a man loves a woman
Can't keep his mind on nothin' else
He'd trade the world
For a good thing he's found
If she is bad, he can't see it
She can do no wrong
Turn his back on his best friend
If he puts her down

When a man loves a woman
Spend his very last dime
Trying to hold on to what he needs
He'd give up all his comforts
And sleep out in the rain
If she said that's the way
It ought to be

“When a Man Loves a Woman” MICHAEL BOLTON/AL GREEN (I know there are others, but these two are my favorite)

* * *

Yet here he was, in love in the worst kind of way. The kind of way where he would do absolutely anything for her, where he worried about her safety before anyone else's, and knew if push came to shove…he would watch the world burn if it spared her pain. It was dangerous to have someone like that in his life given his situation. He knew Voldemort must know, he had seen in his head where Hermione very often frequented his thoughts. It scared the hell out of him that the Dark Lord would maybe use this to his advantage. With Hermione unprotected for two weeks…it was a tough thought to swallow, and made his chest hurt just thinking about it.

But she was talented, he forced himself to remember. Hermione was no fragile china doll, he knew. She could hold her own, and she was completely brilliant. Skills, intelligence, and fitness—three very important attributes both of them needed to hone desperately, and they were improving every day. If there was anything the Quidditch match had forced him to realize, it was that they were no match for Death Eaters. He felt that they hadn't really had a fair chance—things spun out of control too quickly to really have their skills tested. But that was war. Situations weren't ideal by any means, and you had to deal with what you were dealt.

He could still see Hermione dropping out of the tree onto Bellatrix's shoulders. Her face—horrified by what was about to come—burned into his brain. Her screams would not go silent. The entire image haunted him, his nightmares. He knew he would do whatever he had to do to ensure that that never happened again.

His training intensified—even more than it had already. He spent a large part of his day reading and researching new spells to master. He ran even more, sometimes he felt like that's how he was going to go out—death by pure exhaustion. He didn't think it was possible for him to kick it up another notch. He had packed on muscle over the summer from working out. He could feel his strength increase. He knew he wasn't wasting his time with his workout and exercise. What if he were in a situation where wands had fallen out of their hands and it came to basic hand-to-hand combat, and they had to use the most crude of weapons—their own bodies? He would be ready.

Hermione's training in the physical front was not going so well, but it had only been a week and a half, and she had no past athletic background to build on. She would improve, he knew. Her training with the new spells they found was going brilliantly, however. Her two strong attributes were definitely her skills and her intelligence—perhaps the two most important. He was proud of her and her abilities. He felt bad, later, when she thought he was insulting her abilities during their fight at his house. At the time, the fact that she would get angry over something so stupid during their argument over bigger, more important things, it had irritated him. However, once they had calmed down, he had felt bad that she would even consider Harry having no faith in her abilities. He knew she was dangerous with a wand and that her spell work was brilliant.

However, at the end of the day, he knew brilliant spell work, running fast, and being logical wasn't going to save them—not when their enemy played the game with no rules, no compassion for anyone, and was the root of all evil. They needed an edge, but they may as well be looking for it in pillow shop.

* * *

Hermione wrote down another spell and a brief description on it in her notebook for them to try later, once Harry woke up. After his shower, the two of them had been so worn out by their run that they lied down on the couch and put in a film. Harry had fallen asleep within the first twenty minutes. Hermione was now sitting in the chair, book in her lap with the movie playing in the background. She glanced over at him, sprawled out on the couch with his mouth hanging open slightly and his glasses about to fall off his nose. She knew he had been having problems sleeping. He had also been training past the point of exhaustion. This was a very much needed nap, that was for sure.

She sat her book down and slowly walked over to the couch. Hermione pulled his glasses off and sat them on the coffee table. She watched his eyelids twitch and spasm slightly and his facial expression changed into one of discomfort. Still asleep, his hand came up to rub his scar for a second, as if it bothered him.

Hermione reached over to wake him up from whatever was troubling him, but stopped just short of touching him. What was he dreaming about? She bit her lip. She shouldn't. She might not even be able to—she had never tried. If Harry found out, he would be angry with her, no doubt. Hermione's eyes landed on her wand, and she leisurely reached over to grab it.

Feeling guilty, and not even sure if this would work, she pointed her wand at him and whispered under her breath, “Legilimens!”

Instantly, her mind was taken over by images that she had no connection to. Instead of the onslaught of flashes of memories like her encounters with Professor Snape, there wasn't the chaotic skip between images. It was more comparable to her watching a film of one single thought. Also, the vision was muddied and blurry, and the sound was as if she were underwater.

She was standing in a dark, rock-formulated chamber. Her voice was a soft hiss, and she was talking to someone behind her, and her tone was full of amusement. “A spell in Azkaban to start. He put so many of my faithful servants in there…a little revenge for them. Then…then he will be dealt with how I see fit.”

“Of course, my lord. It is no more than he deserves.” A man's voice answered, soft and full of certainty, like always. She knew the voice.

She swung around and faced her old Potions professor. “Indeed, Severus, indeed. And how are things going with the Order? Dumbledore…that man makes me laugh with his pathetic attempt to stop me.” She laughed ruthlessly.

Snape didn't bat an eye at the jab at the Headmaster. “No news, my lord. Still scrambling from the Quidditch match. That came as quite a shock, as you know.” Snape replied.

“Of course I know. Just a reminder that the Potter boy is still on my list, even if not in my sights at the moment. He will be, in time. No need to rush. I want…theatrics when dealing with him. `The-Boy-Who-Lived?'” She sneered, referring to his new nickname. “The Wizarding World will know just how weak he is before all is said in done. The-Boy-Who-Has-Fallen will be more appropriate. My secret weapon will ensure that, well, one of my secret weapons. One will be his undoing, while the other will be his destruction.” He laughed.

Snape's interest was piqued. “These secret plans, my lord. Perhaps, if you share…” He left his thoughts hanging in the silence between the two of them.

She felt a sneer form on her thin lips. “Ah, my dear Severus, we have been over this. These plans only lie with the most trusted, and the most trusted alone. Do not worry…in time, Severus, in time…it is better to be in the dark. The inevitable twist will be most…satisfying.”

Snape bowed his head in respect. “Of course. I look forward to it. If you need an aiding, however—please, allow me to help you. As for now, however, if there is nothing else, I must be returning.”

She raised an alabaster hand with long, thin fingers in dismissal. A door behind her shut, and she was alone, feeling smug. She sat down at the head of the table before her, laced her fingers behind her head, and closed her eyes.

The image changed. She was suddenly flying high in the air in a face-paced Quidditch match, sounds and images now clearer than ever.

* * *

Say your prayers little one, Don't forget my son
To include everyone, I tuck you in
Warm within, Keep you free from sin
'Til the sandman he comes

Sleep with one eye open
Gripping your pillow tight

Exit light, Enter night
Take my hand
We're off to never never-land

Something's wrong, shut the light

Heavy thoughts tonight
And they aren't of snow white
Dreams of war, Dreams of lies
Dreams of dragons fire
And of things that will bite, yeah

“Enter Sandman” METALLICA

* * *

Hermione released the spell and crashed back to reality. Harry was still fast asleep before her, his expression no longer troubled now that he was dreaming of Quidditch and not Voldemort. Shakily, she got up from the floor and dropped back into her chair. Hermione tried to process what she had just seen. While her mind wanted to ask if what she had just seen was real or not, her heart already knew it was. The way he rubbed his scar. The dream from Voldemort's point of view. How she could feel how he was feeling, even as a spectator. Perhaps even the blurriness of the vision was another sign. At first, she thought maybe that's just how Legilimency worked, but once she was switched over to the Quidditch dream, it was crystal clear.

Harry was seeing into Voldemort's head. He never said anything. Never shared this with her. He had mentioned before that he couldn't remember what he had dreamt, only that it had been about her and it had been bad. Had he known, really? She couldn't be sure. She hated to think he would lie to her, but after recent events…she wasn't sure if she could fully trust him to be honest with her. He needed to get over that real quick, she knew. The only way they were going to survive this war was if they were open and honest with each other.

How long had this been going on? And, with a sinking feeling, she wondered if this connection worked both ways. The Death Eaters at the match suddenly came to mind. It had been such a coincidence that they had happened to know exactly where they were to deliver Voldemort's message to Harry. If Voldemort had plucked the information from Harry's mind, what else could he have figured out? Information on the Order? He had Snape for that.

And Snape. He had reacted so coolly. Given information without a second thought. His façade had been flawless, especially the way he had tried to pry information from Voldemort about his secret weapons. Plans Voldemort was unwilling to share with anyone save his most trusted servants, and that category must not include Snape. This information surprised her.

His secret weapon would be Harry's undoing, he had said. Another would be his destruction. And the Order had no idea what these weapons were, and Snape was no closer to finding out what they were than she was. Fear gripped her heart tightly.

Someone had been put in Azkaban, but she found it difficult to even care about that with Harry's demise being planned at this very moment. Yes, she knew Voldemort wanted Harry dead. That was no secret. He had promised suffering. That was almost more than she could handle. To hear Him talking about it, and about having the secret weapons to do so at his disposal…that was it. It pushed her past the point of madness. She felt the urge to go to Voldemort herself and kill him for even considering hurting Harry.

It couldn't be the simple, however. Things never were. Azkaban. Secret weapons. Harry's undoing and destruction. While still trying to digest all this, she hadn't noticed that Harry woken up.

“Hey you.” He said, looking over at her with a yawn.

Hermione's head snapped up to meet Harry's stare.

Immediate concern crossed his features as he sat halfway up onto his elbows. “You okay? You look pale. What's wrong?” He asked seriously.

Hermione smoothed her expression and grinned at him. “Nothing. I'm fine. How did you sleep? You looked…upset earlier, but then it passed. Did you have a nightmare?”

Harry's expression automatically tensed. “I don't know. It's kind of foggy. All I remember is playing Quidditch…and you.”

Hermione wanted to believe him, but she could see the lies in his eyes. “Me?” She asked, raising an eyebrow and playing along, and not showing how much it killed her that he couldn't be completely honest.

“After a particularly brilliant catch, you surprised me with a reward of your own.” He said with a wink, and Hermione couldn't get over how easily he could ignore his intrusion into Voldemort's mind and his findings. He played it off so well that she almost believed that he hadn't really remembered anything. “How about you come over here and I tell you all about it?” He suggested, scooting all the way against the back of the couch to give her space to join him.

She got up and lay down alongside him, her back to his chest while he wrapped his arm securely around her. His breath tickled her neck as he began to whisper his dream in her ear. She only heard half of his words as his lies still echoed in her mind. She hadn't realized he was no longer talking and was waiting for a response.

“Hermione? Are you sure you're okay?” He asked worriedly.

Hermione turned her body to look at him. “Yes. I…it just worries me that you are having nightmares.” She said uncertainly, hoping to spark something in him that would cause him to spill the beans.

Harry looked into Hermione's brown eyes, deep with concern for him. He knew his dreams would only cause more anxiety for her. He made a mental note to not take any more naps from now on. He would only sleep when she slept too. He had dreamt about Voldemort discussing several matters with Snape, from alliances and secret weapons to putting someone in Azkaban because despite what the Ministry thought, Voldemort ran the prison now, not Fudge. He would make note of them for Dumbledore, and go from there. No point in burdening Hermione with them now. Finally, after a few seconds of silence, Harry smoothed his features and gave her a smile. “Don't be. I'm sure it was nothing.” He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. “These are the dreams worth remembering…ones I spend with you. Almost as good as the real thing.” He sighed, letting his eyes close. Falling back asleep with her right here beside him was almost too easy. He needed to get up before he dozed back off. “Do you want to go for a swim?” He asked. They hadn't been to the ocean since his birthday, almost two and a half weeks ago. They had been doing nonstop training in one form or another that they had barely had a moment to think, let alone do something fun.

Hermione did not like being put off, that was obvious, but she let it go. Instead of insisting further, she squeezed his arm that was slung across her middle and curled under her hip. “It's raining.”

Harry looked out of the window and saw that it was indeed raining. “Of course it is. It's always raining.”

Hermione shrugged. “Don't like the weather, move.”

“Would you come with me?” Harry asked teasingly.

Despite being upset with her boyfriend, Hermione was unable to resist his charming banter. “I dunno, maybe. Would you want me to?” She shot back with a grin.

Harry hugged her tightly. “I want you to be with me always. Maybe we can move to an island somewhere, away from it all. Just sit on the beach all day. Paradise. Make a living selling coconuts or something. Somewhere wild and exotic. Maybe the natives won't even speak English.” Harry fantasized in her ear, letting his hand slip beneath her top to graze the warmth of her stomach.

Hermione could hear the wistfulness in his voice, as if he really wished his words were true, but knew they never would happen. It did sound like a tempting dream. She turned around in his arms to study his face. His features were smooth. Perfect nose. Beautiful lips. Startling green eyes behind round glasses. His midnight ebony hair had grown out slightly longer than he was accustomed to, and she knew he was planning on getting it cut soon before going to camp. Now, it fell messily across his forehead and stuck out in all directions. Bed head. Tired eyes.

He grinned uncomfortably, showing her his perfect teeth. “What are you staring at?” He asked, bringing his hand up to cover her eyes.

She grabbed his fingers and brought them to her lips and kissed each one individually before entwining her fingers with his, marveling at how much larger his hand was than hers. His hand made hers look like a child's in comparison. “You.” She replied simply, snuggling close into his chest. “How about we make our own paradise right here in the mean time?” She asked, her nose pressed against his neck. She could smell his deodorant and body wash. She couldn't imagine something happening to him, and knew she would do anything to stop it.

His arms wrapped around her back. “Sound brilliant.” He whispered in her hair, closing his eyes. “I love you.”

In response, Hermione's embraced tightened.

* * *

Whether it was because they were feeling particularly in love, or if they were burnt out on training, the two did not go over the new spells Hermione had found like they had for the last two weeks. The rain continued to pour outside, effectively keeping them in the house. They made dinner together—a light pasta recipe that Hermione told Harry he was going to eat, whether he wanted to or not; his diet be damned! Then they cleaned up the Muggle way, just enjoying being normal for a moment.

They played a few rounds of video games before putting in Friends. They were up to season five. Hermione missed being lazy with him like this: sprawled out on the couch and laughing. She hadn't felt this light since before the disaster at the Quidditch match, a fortnight ago. And they only had two more weeks here—actually twelve days. They were going home on a Thursday, and Harry would be leaving that Sunday for training camp; and she would be going to Greece that Wednesday morning on a nine a.m. flight. Then she would be returning a week and a half later on Saturday, while Harry would be back Sunday. Once they were back…she didn't know. Harry would go into the Auror program, while she would waste away at Clarence's library, continuing her independent training.

Things would change, that much was obvious. She would have to get used to sleeping alone again. She would have to get used to being in the middle of the war. She would have to get used to putting up a brave front for her parents so they wouldn't worry.

She would have to get used to a lot of things she wasn't ready for at the moment. That's why these stolen moments of normality were cherished after two week of stress and worrying.

Going to bed that night, Hermione clung to Harry, afraid he might disappear if she let him go. Normally, she slept on her side, away from him because she liked her space. Not tonight. Tonight, she curled her body around his, her hand flat against his chest and her cheek against his bare back, enjoying the warmth of his skin beneath hers. She lied awake, her mind replaying his dream over and over in her mind, her brain trying to make sense of its implications.

She had dozed in and out in fitful bouts of sleep. Harry's smallest movement jarred her awake. It was no surprise that him slowly getting out of bed caused her eyes to open again in the dark room. The clock read four forty-five. She watched silently as he bent over and opened his bottom beside table drawer and pulled out a thin notebook and exited the room. Confused, she sat there in his warm bed, alone. What was he doing? She laid there for several minutes, wondering whether or not she should follow and see what he was up to. Was he keeping track of his training maybe?

While her mind worked, apparently so had he. Before she could come to a decision, the door eased open and she quickly shut her eyes, not wanting to be caught awake for some reason. She peeked through one eye and watched him replace the notebook back into the drawer before crawling back into bed. For the last two weeks, he had moved his morning run to a little later in the morning, now that Hermione went with him. She felt him pull her close to him and plant a soft kiss at the base of her neck. She laid there, his body pressed up against hers and holding her tight, with her mind on what was in the drawer and wondering how she was going to find out.

The answer came easily enough. When he woke her up to go on their run, she begged off. “I'm too tired.” She said with a yawn, which was true.

“We can go later if you want.” He said, though Hermione knew he hated waiting too late in the morning to go.

Hermione shook her head as she stretched out on the bed. “Go ahead. I'll get the next one.”

He gave her a look, the look had had given her several times when she tried to get out of going.

With a sheepish look, Hermione pulled the pillow over her face.

“Hermione…” He said sternly, pulling the pillow away.

Hermione sat up on her knees and hugged him from behind, her arms slung over his shoulder with her fingers grazing his chest. She knew there were a few things Harry couldn't say no to and was too weak to resist. “How about…” She whispered seductively in his ear, pausing to lick the length of his neck from its base to his ear, “You go on a run, and I lay here in bed…naked…” She kissed the back of his neck until she got reached his other ear, eliciting a soft groan from him. “And think up all the ways I can make it up to you?” She asked, pressing her body against his and letting her fingers rake across his chest while she continued to kiss his neck. She allowed her hand to venture farther south, across his stomach and he caught it just before it reached the waistband of his boxers.

“Hermione…” He repeated, but this time his voice was more of a plea. “It's important for you…for you to…” His words faltered while Hermione's tongue continued across his skin and her nails trailed along the muscles in his stomach.

“Important for me to…?” She asked innocently, maneuvering so she was now sitting in his lap, lips still on his throat.

“Important…important for you to be in top form and be able…able to…” He tried to get out, his eyes closed as Hermione's light touches caused his body to shiver in pleasure.

“Something wrong with my form?” She teased throatily, grabbing his hand and sliding it under her shirt and up her body.

“No, just…just…” His voice trailed off.

“Just what?” Hermione breathed. She could hear his breathing quicken as feel his body responding to hers, and knew she was treading dangerous territory. If she got him too worked up, he'd call off the run himself and she needed him to leave. If things got much more out of hand, then no doubt Harry would—

“Aw, fuck!” Harry groaned in defeat, grabbing her roughly by the back of her head and pulling her lips to his. His hands grasped her thighs to keep her from falling as he half-stood and twisted his body and pushed her back onto the bed with himself falling on top of her. With his mouth on hers urgently, Hermione had no control over the moan that erupted from somewhere in her chest. His hands were everywhere, searching for bare skin.

It certainly wasn't what Hermione was aiming for, but she chalked it up as a victory anyway.

Laying in bed an hour later, tangled in sheets and each other, her shoulders shook with laughter at Harry's accusation of her getting out of running using her body.

“I don't want to. I will run twice as hard tonight, I promise.” She insisted, pulling the sheets close around her body as if she would mold herself into the bed if she pressed hard enough.

Harry chuckled and slid out of bed to gather clothes. It was now late in the morning. If he didn't train now, then he wasn't going to. Once he was dressed and saw that Hermione hadn't budged, he sighed. He crawled over back in bed with her. “Promise you will go tonight and try hard?” He asked, his eyes twinkling.

Hermione nodded insistently and held up a pinky. He hooked his with hers, dropped a kiss on her nose, and headed for the door.

Hermione waited a few minutes before slowly climbing out of bed, sheets secured around her body, and watched out one of the windows. Soon, she watched as Harry, Ron, and Draco all came into view with their running clothes on. They stretched for a second before hitting the pavement. She knew they would keep in close to the house with her being here alone, keeping it in view. She waited a few more minutes before rushing over to the bedside table and wrenching it open. She shuffled a few papers around and had to dig for a second before pulling the notebook out with a flourish. “I win. Granger—one; Potter—zero.” She mumbled under her breath before falling back onto the bed and opening the book.

On h the first page there were a few lines—not even full sentences in Harry's untidy scrawl.

Feel weak and strong at the same time—trapped—uncomfortable—pacing in front of mirror—no face—dark hair—features too blurry to make out—bright crimson eyes

Don't remember scar hurting

Underneath was a quick sketch, just a large oval and a faceless figure with dark hair standing before it, red eyes gleaming. Was that supposed to be Harry?

Confused, Hermione turned the page—another few lines, another small sketch.

Cave?—green waters—triggered by looking out at the ocean—flashed before my eyes—dreamt about it the night before—looked like a cave maybe—woke up with scar hurting and sweating—can't remember dream

A small sketch of gray, jagged walls and rocky shoreline with eerie green water meeting it.

Next page. More lines, more pictures. She went through the book quickly. She stopped when she saw a drawing of a girl bound on a table among faceless figures. Brown hair, brown eyes. She didn't need to read it to know what was going on in this one. There wasn't a description anyway. Scrawl below the drawing were just five words:

If I fail—no words

She swallowed uncomfortably before turning the page. Nightmares replaying the Quidditch match with no pictures, no scar hurting. These weren't connected with Voldemort, these were just his own fears. She came across one with glass orbs from, by the date of it, just a few days ago. Confusion riddled the tone of his words.

Big dusty room—glass spheres—dunno what that's about—scar hurt pretty bad—I have no recollection of this place—unfamiliar—felt a tug of something, not sure—why am I brought here?—not the first time been haunted by this one—maybe Dumbledore will know

The next and final dream caused her heart to stop. It was from the day before, the words chaotic as if he was trying to write down everything he could remember before he forgot, interrupting one thought with another and going back and forth:

Secret weapon—someone is in Azkaban—Voldemort talking to Snape—won't tell him secret plans—plans supposed to cause my destruction—of course they are because that's my luck—scar hurt but not too much—another intrusion, not fed—blurry and muffled—only most trusted know secret plans—who in the hell is that?—Sirius said Bellatrix was loyal and close with Dark Lord?—revenge on who put Death Eaters in Azkaban—?

“That liar.” Hermione said vehemently, snapping the dream diary closed. So he was remembering everything, and lying about it. She opened it and read it again, quickly, before returning it to its place in the drawer. She didn't want to get caught. She crawled in bed, mind still reeling as she went through all of the dreams she had read about. How could she bring this up without confessing her breaking into his mind and snooping through his things? While she felt him lying trumped that for sure, she didn't want him to think he couldn't trust her.

She reached over and put her knickers and shirt back on, feeling a little numb. It was worse than she thought. He was having dreams that—by the looks of it—were getting progressively worse. If she understood it right, sometimes the images were “fed” to him by Voldemort, while other times it was an accidental intrusion, most likely caused by the connection they have through his scar. Having nightmares fed to him by Voldemort was bad—very very bad. It meant Voldemort was not only well aware of the situation and could get information from Harry's mind, but he could manipulate his dreams.

She was scared—scared for him and scared for herself. He had to go to Dumbledore. Maybe she could go to Dumbledore. She had a few days before going to Greece.

Going to Greece sounded so stupid now. Since the Death Eaters' attack, going on any sort of vacation seemed foolish. What if something happened while she was in Greece, either there with her family or back here with everyone else in the Order?

She had half a mind to ask her parents to cancel it, but she knew how long they had been planning and looking forward to it. With her being gone pretty well the entire summer, how could she deny them this?

She thought back to his notes in his book. Severus didn't know Voldemort's secret plans, but perhaps Bellatrix was aware of them, only “the most trusted,” Voldemort had said.

Who was the most trusted? Was it Bellatrix?

When Harry returned, he found her much like he left her, only with clothes on. Dripping from sweat after an exceptional run and workout in the garage, he wasn't sure if he was going to get sick or grin goofily.

“I thought you were supposed to be naked and thinking of my reward?” He asked, lazily leaning against the closed door.

Hermione looked up at him, and he immediately knew something was wrong. His grin faltered. “What is it?”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She tried again, but still, she couldn't find words. Instead, tears stung at her eyes and she kept letting out some sort of high-pitch crying sound until suddenly her body shook with full-blown sobs. Harry's arms were wrapped tightly around her as he sunk to his knees on the mattress beside her. “Hermione, you're scaring me. What is it? Did something happen?”

She shook her head and just continued to cry. She didn't know why, but with everything, she found she couldn't hold it in any longer. She broke down and bawled into Harry's sweaty neck, clinging to his body. “I'm just s-s-so s-s-scared about what is g-g-going to hap-ppen.” She choked through her hiccups.

“Hermione…baby…please…don't cry. You know I can't handle seeing you cry.” Harry said, feeling his heart go out to her. He hated watching this beautiful girl break down. Her fingers clawed at his back as she scrambled into his lap, pressing ever tighter against him.

Regaining a little composure, she was able to get out a few more words, “I just don't want anything to happen to you, or my parents, or our friends…but there are no promises and we aren't any closer to finding anything about Voldemort and I…I just don't know what I can do to help and…and…what if we don't win? What if something happens?” Her words were coming out fast now, and Harry could barely understand them.

He had his own fears including the ones Hermione was recounting. He just held her, and waited for her tears to stop. Finally, she grew quiet and her grip loosened somewhat. “Don't think like that, Hermione. We're going to win this, and nothing is going to happen to anyone.” He promised, knowing he had no control over that but he was going to try like hell to make sure the words come true. “We're fighting, Hermione. We're fighting, and we're going to win this. We have more to fight for.” He said, pulling her away to look her square in the eye. “I won't lose you. I won't lose my parents, or yours. Or my friends.” He vowed, trying to make her believe his words.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She didn't know what had come over here. Harry had come in at the worst possible moment. She had just been thinking about the implications of Voldemort winning, about what would happen, and before she knew it, she was in tears. Sobering up, Hermione responded with a nod, “We're in this together, right? Together.” She repeated.

Harry nodded. “Together.”

“I…I think I need a nap.” Hermione said, dazed.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You've only just woke up.”

Hermione shrugged. “I didn't sleep well last night.”

Harry nodded. “Then let's take a nap. Don't worry—I'll watch over you. You don't need to worry about anything.” He said, stretching her out and tucking her in. “Dream only good dreams. I don't want you thinking about stuff like this.” He whispered in her ear before kissing her forehead softly.

Hermione was too exhausted to respond. She watched as Harry undressed from his sweaty clothes and toweled himself off for the most part. He slipped on a pair of pajama pants, and lay down beside her. She felt fatigue instantly overcome her as she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Watching Hermione break down had been terrifying, and it brought his own fears to the surface. Fears he had been battling over for weeks. He had made the right decision, keeping his nightmares from Hermione. She worried enough as it was.

* * *

Despite the lies that you're making
Your love is mine for the taking
My love is just waiting
To turn your tears to roses

I will be the one that's gonna hold you
I will be the one that you run to
My love is a burning, consuming fire

No, you'll never be alone
When darkness comes
I'll light the night with stars
Hear my whispers in the dark

“Whispers in the Dark” SKILLET

* * *

Hermione was quiet all day. She felt foolish for her breakdown. She would not show such weakness again. She went on a run with Harry and Ron without a fuss—Draco had to work. She cooked dinner. She was on auto-pilot. Harry noticed, but said nothing, understanding that there was nothing to say. Her breakdown had scared him—it had scared even her. The very thought of losing was too much for her to take. Losing her parents, Harry, her friends…the life she had made.

And Voldemort had a trick or two up his sleeve that he wouldn't share with Snape, therefore the Order was in the dark on that front. The Order itself was growing, but not nearly fast enough. The attack from the Death Eaters had shown that—Voldemort was more organized than the Order, and it gave him the edge.

Something had to be done, but she didn't know what. Harry wasn't ready to face him—none of them were. Word needed to be spread, and believed. More needed to devote themselves to the Order. They all needed to take action—she needed to take action. She felt like she wasn't helping at all. Harry was training, Snape was acting spy for Dumbledore and risking his life doing so, everyone at Headquarters was doing whatever they could. She had never even been to Headquarters. In this fight, she felt useless. She may as well be against them for all the help she was worth. And in that thought, she found her possible answer.

We're flirtin' with disaster ya'll damn sure know what I mean.
You know the way we run our lives it makes no sense to me
I don't know about yourself or what you plan to be, yeah
When we gamble with our time we choose our destiny

“Flirtin' With Disaster” MOLLY HACHET

Well, that's that! Hope you all liked/loved/didn't hate it. Just want to say, before being start flying with things in this chapter that might not exactly add up to canon…there are a few assumptions being made, not necessarily true, not necessarily untrue either, so you'll just have to see! PLEASE review. Takes like two seconds. I love them. I look for them all the time. I'm a little pathetic like that, so make my day and tell me what you think! I have it figured out, I think this story will have eleven chapters maybe…there are three BIG places for it to end, but if it ends where I'm planning at the moment, I think I came up with eleven. I mapped it out on notebook paper—yeah, I got that serious with it. I mean business! Ha!

Just realized I spent almost 3 hours editing/dozing off/lyrics/author's note on this. I have no life.

REVIEW!

Until next time (WHICH COULD BE VERY SOON BECAUSE I ALREADY HAVE A LOT OF THE NEXT CHAPTER DONE IF I GET ENOUGH MOTIVATION TO FINISH IT!),

*~Archie~*

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Hi. I know I haven't posted. Been busy with lots of overtime at work and remodeling my house. Anyway no time to chat—gotta go to work. I had this chapter done, then completely redid it because it wasn't where I want it to go. I skipped over a lot of stuff and did it all in flashbacks, but I'm changing that—still skipping, just not as much. Anyway, please review! New chapter will be out soon—I promise! I'll respond to reviews later. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. End is a reference to Friends' episode where Chandler kisses Joey's girlfriend, saying he crossed the line, and was so far passed the line that the line was a dot to him.

CHAPTER EIGHT: The Line is a Dot

Bellatrix Lestrange.

In Hermione's head, Bellatrix was the key. They had to somehow trick the woman into giving them insight to Voldemort's plans. Hermione ran every scenario into her head—deals, intimidation, trickery, coercion, and even torture. No, the truth could not be tortured out of the woman. She would never give Voldemort up for anything—that is why she had to be the one to know.

Deception was the only option, and Hermione had not the slightest clue on how to swindle such a woman out of giving details on Voldemort. In her head, when she painted a picture of the vile woman, Hermione figured she would be guarded and suspicious of anyone and everyone. The task would not be easy, if not impossible.

Hermione had not shared this with Harry, of course. She was waiting until she had a solid plan before she told him she had hijacked his mind, spied on him in the middle of the night, and coerced him into leaving her alone for the sole purpose of going through his things. Even in her head, she knew a lot of trust was breached with her actions. No, she would keep it to herself until it outweighed the drastic measures she had undertaken.

Hermione considered contacting Dumbledore with her problem, but decided to wait. She had a small window of opportunity after Harry left for camp, and that was when she would take that action if necessary. Hopefully, by then, she would have more to go on.

For the moment, however, she was buckling down. The last few days had flown by—time always sped up when she needed it to slow down. She had a little over a week before they left Cliffinshire, which meant she had to work fast.

Her solo mission to Clarence's library had been lucky. Sirius and James had come over to help test Harry's training the backyard. Hermione took this opportunity to beg off for a trip to Clarence's library. Harry had not liked the idea of her leaving, but Hermione told him he was going to have to get over not being able to hover over her shoulder every second of the day. Besides, it was her plan to help out at the library in a few weeks anyhow. Also, they were running out of material to study. They had gone to the library a few times over the last few weeks to get more books, and it was time for another trip.

Hermione talked with her mentor for several minutes before going off on her own. She scanned the familiar shelves, enjoying the comforting smell of dusty books and aged pages. Hermione stopped here and there to pick up several books on defensive training. Once she had enough volumes to keep up the façade for her visit, Hermione pressed further into the library, searching for her true reason for coming to this place. She wasn't trying to necessarily hide the books she was after from Harry—she only did not want to arouse any suspicion. She doubted bringing back books on Voldemort would raise any questions, but still, she was cautious.

Clarence did not have an abundant volume of books on Voldemort, but her collection was enough to satisfy Hermione's curiosity—for now.

Hermione ran a finger over the spines of the leather-bound books on the shelves before her. She grabbed a few titles that looked promising and added them to her growing pile in her bag.

“A bit away from defensive spells, dear, don't you think?” Clarence's voice behind her caused Hermione to jump guiltily.

She managed to shrug. “Curiosity. Better to know what I can about the enemy, yeah?” Hermione asked before snorting with dark humor, “Not like he left a book of memoirs to be passed from generation to generation.”

Despite the bleakness of the allusion Hermione had given to being in relation to Voldemort, Clarence cracked the smallest of smiles anyway. “Nice to see you don't let your past—or family's past—define you.”

Hermione shrugged again, feeling awkward. “Since when have I let anything define me?”

Clarence tilted her head to the side. “I think…I think you let Harry define you.” She spoke softly, catching Hermione off guard.

Hermione paused in her browsing. “I don't understand what you mean.” She responded quietly, honestly confused but still slightly apprehensive.

Clarence let out a sigh. “Perhaps that didn't come out right, but it was the only way to bring it up. Seeing you with him over these last few times you've come here for more material…you're different. You have this...this protective demeanor—this constant awareness of his presence. And vise versa. I see it in the way the two of you are when you're around each other. There is certainly no denying that there is something between the two of you.” She said with a small laugh. “I feel like the pair of you have this own little world you live in that no one is allowed to be a part of, and I haven't even been around you very much. The chemistry…it's deep—passionate. I think you stepped out of his sight for just a few minutes, and he had this intensely fierce look in his eyes while searching for you…it was a little scary.” Clarence admitted softly.

Hermione knew her observations were true, and did not doubt Harry's reaction to not knowing where she was. He was a rather intense bloke sometimes. “Is that a problem?” She asked, trying to keep the spite from her voice. Did she think Hermione was too young to be in love? Perhaps they hadn't been together long enough to feel this deeply for each other? Hermione felt anger bubble beneath the surface at the very idea of someone doubting her feelings for Harry. “If you are trying to convince me we're rushing—” Hermione began in a somewhat heated voice, but was quickly cut off.

“I'm not suggesting that at all, Hermione. I don't doubt the devotion the two of you have. It's obvious. I thought I was clear on that before.” She said with a laugh, easing Hermione's tension a bit. “I'm simply observing that that sort of devotion can be dangerous.”

Anger flared up again. “As in we should cool off because our feelings might get us in trouble?!” She shot back angrily, the heavy book in her hand slamming loudly on the table beside her.

Clarence gave her a stern glare at her treatment of her books. “Will you please stop jumping to conclusions? I never said anything in the slightest.” The older woman spoke with a hint of severity in her tired voice.

Hermione felt guilty at her behavior and slipped into the chair beside her. “I'm sorry; I just don't understand where you are going with this.” She replied defensively.

Clarence slid in the seat facing her and reached out to take Hermione's hand in her own. The older woman's hands were smaller than Hermione's, with her skin slightly waxy and wrinkling. Her hand felt fragile in Hermione's, but she knew how powerful the woman before her was. “As I was saying, this type of devotion can be dangerous. I fear…I fear the measures the two of you will undertake to keep the other safe, Hermione. Just…just remember to look at the big picture, look…make sure you consider all the options—the pair of you—before you make big decisions. After the actions from the two of you at the Quidditch match…it makes me nervous, Hermione.” She confessed, dropping Hermione's hand and giving her a stern look of disapproval, but underneath Hermione could sense the woman's apprehension.

Hermione let her words sink in, understanding the warning lacing her words. Finally, she nodded.

“The war in not on our doorstep. Harry rushing off to Auror training…the way the two of you have been training these last few weeks. Yes, take Voldemort seriously. I encourage you to. Just don't…don't take this war on yourselves. Do you know what I mean? The Dark Lord, he isn't hiding behind you, waiting to make his move. We have time, and we need to rebuild just like he does. Train—hone new skills. Be cautious. Stay safe. But don't be rash, Hermione. Harry going off to battle the Death Eaters himself. You jumping on Bellatrix's back. That isn't strategy, Hermione, that's stupidity. It's madness. Being reckless can get you killed, darling.” She spoke quietly, uttering the endearment for Hermione barely above a whisper, but Hermione could feel the love Clarence held for her in that single word.

Once again, Hermione nodded in understanding. Clarence was worried because of how easily the two of them could put their own lives at risk for each other. Yes, there might be a time when they needed to put their life on the line—there was no guarantee for anyone to make it out of this mess. Clarence was simply telling her that right now was not the time.

Hermione wondered if she would have a different view if she told Clarence of Harry's nightmares. Would that make her feel as if the war was more urgent? She considered confiding the secrets in the woman before her. Clarence would know the solution—she always did. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Yes, Hermione?” Clarence asked, coaxing for Hermione to continue.

“It's about Harry…”

“What about him?” The woman pried slowly.

Hermione's mouth went dry as her words took the first turn she could think of. “You said he was rushing off to Auror training. Do you think it's unwise for him to do that?”

Clarence studied her silently for a few beats over her squared spectacles, and Hermione was sure she knew that was not what Hermione had originally wanted to say. Finally, she replied evenly, “No, I don't think it's a mistake for him to go into Auror training. All I was trying to point out was that everything happened quickly, decisions have been made quickly—some good, some bad. I feel that Harry's immediate immersion into Auror training right out of Hogwarts was a hasty decision that, while a good one, shows…shows just how much he is taking this war on himself, relying on himself to save and spare pain for everyone, especially you. He needs to know that we have time, and he is not alone in this.” She told her, folding her arms in front of her.

Hermione bit her lip as the truth of her words swam in her head. When they had first found out about, well, everything in Dumbledore's office—the prophecy, Voldemort's inevitable return, just how connected everything was—Harry had shied away from taking responsibility. Both of them had. They thought they had time.

Then Avery proved them wrong. His attack had changed Harry's attitude completely. In Harry's mind, Voldemort was suddenly knocking at the door, and Harry would be the one the answer the call, shielding Hermione and his loved ones from view. He became instantly anxious over Hermione's safety. He threw himself into training at the first opportunity despite their vacation. At the Quidditch match, he would not stand aside. He went out to meet those who he was sure wanted to kill him. Making it out alive because Voldemort wanted it so, Harry's training intensified. In his world, he is alone, he is the lone savior because he didn't trust the job to anyone else.

And now, Clarence was telling her without saying so that she needed to make sure he didn't do anything rash. “I'll keep an eye on him.” Hermione agreed, realizing that despite the difference of opinion she and Clarence had on how urgent the war was at the moment, the woman's insight on Harry was true.

Clarence raised an eyebrow. “I'm not just talking about him.” She said with a scoff.

Hermione gave her a half-grin. “I'll keep an eye on myself too.”

The corner's of Clarence's eyes crinkled slightly as she smiled back. Clarence reached into her robes and pulled out a small book and slipped it into the bag with the rest of the books Hermione had taken. “Something I thought would be helpful—I've bookmarked a few pages that might interest you.” She said, sitting back in her chair.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Hermione looked down at her watch. “I should probably get going. I'll see you when I come back from Greece?” She asked lightly.

“Of course. Have a good time. I'm excited for you to join me here—it will be like old times.” The woman spoke fondly.

Hermione's kept her smile in place, not letting it falter. How could she tell her mentor that now, after everything that had happened, coming back here and wasting away behind the shelves of books seemed useless?

***

Work it harder

Make it better

Do it faster

Make us stronger

More than ever

Hour after

Our work

Is never over

“Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” DAFT PUNK

***

Sweating, bruised, sore, and tired—a dirty Harry pushed himself off the ground, ignoring the large gash on his arm as he added `bloodied' to the list.

“Harry, take a break. Don't push yourself too hard. Small steps.” Sirius called, looking over at James for help.

“Come on, son—let's take five.” James immediately added, looking at the state of his son.

“No.” Harry replied, crudely healing his arm to stop the bleeding and readying himself for another attack. Blood on his hand from holding the gash smeared all over the handle on his wand, causing it to slip in his hand. He cleaned it and his hand off on his t-shirt before returning to his stance. “Again!” He called, and before they could argue, Harry took off at a dead sprint for the obstacle course the three of them had made for Harry's training for the day, something similar to what he would be facing at camp. They had tried to make him take a break over the last hour, but Harry was having none of it. Even when they threatened to walk away, Harry had told them to go ahead, but he was still practicing.

Time before testing at camp was evaporating quickly. He had asked the two of them to come here every day this week to help him train, push him to his limits. Sirius promised he would be here every day, and his father would make it every chance he could. It was important to them that he succeeded as well, he knew. They needed to know Harry could take care of himself.

Harry made quick work of climbing a wall, straining his muscles while trying to dodge curses being thrown at him. A Stinging hex hit in on his calf, causing him to cry out and almost lose his footing. Growling, he pushed on with shaking arms. He dodged, rolled, spun, jumped, and threw his own curses at his moving targets while battling the challenging terrain of the obstacle course. Once he made it through, before they could call for a break, he yelled, “Again!”

Several wounds and shouting matches later with Sirius about pacing himself, he collapsed at his father's feet.

Sirius reached down and grabbed him by his shirt, roughly pulling him to his feet. “Again. Keep going. You want to be stupid about this, so keep going!” He said angrily, firing another Stinging hex that caused Harry to shout out in frustration.

“What the hell, Sirius!?” He asked, enraged, but Sirius didn't care. His Godfather pushed him forcefully away, sending another curse to encourage Harry to pick up speed.

Fatigued, Harry went again. Then again. Battered and bloodied, Sirius didn't care. He kept pushing Harry. His curses turned harsher, faster, and more accurate. Harry felt his muscles ache and scream in protest as Harry pushed himself—not out of arrogance now but out of sheer self-preservation against Sirius's curses. “I get it, I need a break!” Harry yelled in a strangled voice, but was met with a burning sensation catching him in the stomach, causing him to curse loudly.

Out of pure exhaustion, Harry fell several feet from a small deck and crashed to the ground, considerably falling short of his jump. “Aaaahhhhhhh!” He screamed in pain, his entire leg buckling from under him. Even lying as a heap on the ground, he felt a Stinging hex his in squarely between his shoulder blades, forcing another cry of pain from his lips.

“Sirius, enough!” He heard his father say sternly from somewhere behind him, but he felt a hot pain shoot up his leg from another curse from Sirius's wand, taking no heed to James's command.

“No, Prongs. This is what he wants. He wants to be stupid, so we'll be stupid.” The voices grew closer.

Another hex. Another sharp pain. Another cry out from Harry, who laid there like a wounded and broken animal in the muddy yard.

Sirius and his father hovered over him now, peering down at the injured Harry. “Harry, are you alright?” James asked, falling to his knees beside his son.

Another Stinging hex.

“Sirius, goddamn it, I said for you to fucking stop!” James roared to the man standing beside him. “He's hurt!”

“Oh, now you want a break, Potter? Is this enough for you, or are you wanting to kill yourself first?” Sirius yelled down at him, raining several curses down around him causing mud to shoot up and splatter all three of them. Harry could feel the heat of the hexes dangerously close to him.

Finally, Sirius dropped to his knees, tossed his wand to the side and grabbed the front of Harry's battered shirt, pulling his closer. “Have you had enough, now?” He repeated, one hand reaching around to grip his hair painfully to force his Godson to look up at him.

In his green eyes, Sirius saw confusion, anger, hurt, shame—so many emotions stared up at him. He released his Godson from his tight grip, grabbed his best mate by his arm and pulled him away from his own flesh and blood as rain began to fall. James tried to pull away, but Sirius's grip was too strong, and his anger outweighed James, but only slightly.

“Sirius—will you stop!?” He heard his father's voice above him somewhere.

“Let him figure it out—that's what he wants. He's fine.” Sirius spoke angrily.

Harry was left alone as the rain went from a steady drizzle to pouring. His body ached and his ankle was surely sprained or twisted or something. His energy was gone. His ego wounded. His spirit broken. He knew what Sirius's lesson was—Harry was taking on too much at one time. He needed to pace himself before he got hurt. Arrogant and determined, Harry had told him several times to stuff and keep going.

And keep going he went.

Angry tears mixed with the rain as Harry attempted to move, but found he had nothing left. He was drained. His wand was out of reach. Defeated, he let his head loll to the side to keep the rain from going up his nose and kept his eyes closed. He would take a break.

***

Hermione deposited her books in the bedroom before walking around the house and ended up in the kitchen where James and Sirius were lounging. She immediately felt tension in the air as she noticed both men were silent and drinking a beer.

“Where's Harry?” She asked, feeling slightly apprehensive.

“Outside.” Sirius grunted.

“Go to him, Hermione.” James offhandedly added. “Make sure he's okay.”

Hermione noticed Harry's father give Sirius an icy glare. “Why wouldn't he be okay?” Hermione asked, but didn't wait for an answer as she quickly exited out onto the patio. The backyard had been transformed into a crude obstacle course of sorts, effectively shielded from Muggle view. Squinting in the heavy rain, Hermione searched for her boyfriend. “Harry!” She called, scanning the yard. Finally, she saw him lying in a heap in the mud. She quickly rushed over to him. “Harry!” She shrieked, dropping to her knees immediately and bringing his head to her lap. “What's wrong!?” Confusion clouded her mind. Why in Merlin's name was he out in alone in the rain with the pair of them in the kitchen?

Harry looked up at her and moved slightly put his head higher in her lap. “Hey babe.” He said in a tired voice, closing his eyes as he tried to muster up a small smile.

“What are you doing out here?!” She asked, looking back at the house where James was standing in the window, watching them.

“Taking a break.” He said with a sarcastic laugh.

Hermione took in his appearance. “You look like a mess.”

“I am a mess.” Harry replied before letting out a soft groan as he tried to move his ankle.

“Are you hurt?” Hermione asked, noticing his discomfort.

“No, babe, I'm fine. I'm…being humbled at the moment.” He said with another sardonic chuckle.

Still confused, but feeling like Harry might be responsible for his own predicament, she sighed. “What did you do?”

“Can you grab me my wand?” Harry asked, changing the subject. Hermione looked around for a second before summoning it with her own. Harry's wand flew into her outstretched hand, slippery from being covered in mud.

“Thank, beautiful.” Harry said, forcing himself into a sitting position. His ankle was swollen and pain still shot along his foot and leg. Clenching his teeth, he pulled his shoe off to get a better look.

“Here, let me.” Hermione said, letting go of him now that he was steady as she slid down to his ankle. Using a Healing Charm, she slowly mended his injury.

Harry laughed. “I'm getting a sense of déjà vu here…” He joked, referring to their switched roles so many months ago.

Hermione smiled at him despite her worry. She gently pressed against his leg with her hand, testing the pain. “How does that feel?”

Harry leaned back down into the mud, a smile on his face. “Brilliant.” He stretched his leg out experimentally, feeling the pain gone. His body ached, and he was still incredibly tired, but he had gained some of his strength back and the pain from the hexes was wearing off for the most part. His anger made him want to go inside and yank Sirius out here by the scruff of neck, and challenge him.

Hermione sat beside him, the ever dutiful girlfriend. “Want to tell me what happened?”

Harry shrugged. “I kept pushing them, pretty well begged for this really. Sirius got pissed that I wouldn't take a break, wouldn't slow down. So…he hexed the fuck out of me. Think it pissed my dad off, but I guess he understood. I slipped and fell—fucked up my ankle. Too exhausted and hurting to do much about it. Decided to leave me be to teach me a lesson, I suppose.” He said, his tone icy. He was torn. He understood why Sirius did what he did. He understood why his father went along with it reluctantly. Understanding did not, however, cloud his anger. Anger, that he found, was mostly directed at himself for failing.

“Yeah, it seemed pretty tense in there. Your dad told me to come out here and check on you.” Hermione said, lacing her hand in his. "I'm sorry this happened, but maybe you should have listened.” She said unhelpfully.

“Don't be. My fault. I need to get up. I need to go again.” He made to get up, but Hermione's hands came up to his chest to keep him pinned on the ground.

“You're taking a break. Let yourself recuperate for a minute, Harry.” She said, her tangling her hand with his on his stomach.

“I've been taking a break.” Harry argued, lifting himself to his elbows.

“Well then take another one. With me. Please?” She asked, her eyes boring down into his.

After several silent seconds, Harry eased back into the mud, rain still pouring on his face. “Fine.” He said, letting out an angry puff of air.

Hermione was unfazed by his anger at her making him wait a few more minutes. “Do you want to go inside?” She asked.

“Nope.” Harry replied. Right now, he realized, he could definitely use a cigarette. However, he doubted Hermione would comply with his wishes. Instead, he pulled her down to lay beside him in the mud, cold rain causing them both to shake slightly. He closed his eyes, knowing this was better than anything really, just lying right here in the cold rain with her at his side. His desire for a cigarette vanished instantly.

“I love you.” Hermione whispered in his ear, trying to burrow herself deeper into him. “We should go inside. Catching a cold isn't going to do either us any good.” She tried to pull away and to her feet, but Harry wouldn't let her get up. Pulling him so he was facing her, she took his muddy face in her hands. “I'm serious, Potter. We're going to get sick! It's too cold for this. Just call it a day already!” She urged.

Harry looked into her eyes, listened to her pleading with a small smile. She worried too much. He lifted a hand to trace the curve of her cheek, down her neck, from her shoulder to her elbow before his small smile widened. “I can tell you're cold.” He smirked, he fingers tugging the zipper on her down just a tad more before his tracing continued around her hardened nipples from the cold rain.

Hermione yanked her zipper back up, slightly embarrassed. “Well, it's cold! So let's go inside!”

Harry shook his head and pulled her roughly against him. “Nah. You want me to take a break, I'll take a break. Right here. Snogging you.” He said, feeling desire leak through his anger as he seized this small distraction. A few minutes for him to retreat before continuing on with his battle. Without another word, he lips found hers while one hand threaded through her hair and the other gripped her upper thigh possessively.

While things heated up in the cold rain, staying warm was no longer an issue. However, after several minutes, they were interrupted by a voice somewhere behind them.

“Looks like you found your second wind.” James said, causing the two to spring apart.

Harry looked up at his dad and Godfather standing a few feet away, eyebrows raised. Hermione quickly jumped to her feet while Harry first stretched out on the ground then got to his own feet. Good as new for the most part, he grinned. “Yeah, something like that.” He looked past his father to Sirius, his anger still very much there.

“Do we have a problem?” Sirius asked, arms folded across his chest.

Sizing each other up, Harry replied coolly, “Nope. Let's do this.” He gave Hermione a quick peck on the cheek, then headed for the edge of the course to start.

Not wanting to watch, Hermione quickly rushed inside. The rain had slowed, but still came down steadily. Once inside, she quickly took a hot shower to get all the mud from her hair and body. She cleaned up the mess from coming inside all muddy, then started dinner for the four of them plus Ron and Draco. Hermione placed the food in the oven so it would be ready once they decided to come in before finally retiring to Harry's bedroom to go through her books. She picked the most promising one, and stretched out on the bed to begin.

The book had been informative, even though she wasn't sure what she was looking for. It spoke of Voldemort's reign. His alliances with the giants, werewolves, vampires—all the monsters of the night that no one wanted to believe existed had been an asset. Dementors—a horror she hoped to never encounter—had also been on the Dark Lord's side. Reading about this world described in her book was like a nightmare. It told the worst of stories with the most evil villain imaginable. Death. Destruction. A fight for power. Too much bloodshed. Too much killing. While the contents made her stomach turn, she found that she couldn't look away, couldn't stop reading. It wasn't until Harry opened the door some three hours later that she finally paused in her research.

Covered from head to toe in mud, sweat, and blood in a pair of athletic shorts, he gave her a small grin, but Hermione could see that even that took effort due to his exhaustion. “I'm going to get in the shower real quick. Dinner smells delicious—thank you. You coming out?” He asked, grabbing some fresh clothes. His movements were slow and Hermione could see his body was definitely aching.

She wanted to say something—anything to make him feel better, but there wasn't anything to say. Guilt slipped into her stomach at how hard he was working in comparison to her uselessness. “Yeah, I'll just be a second.” Hermione replied, looking down at her book.

“Okay.” He said before exiting the room.

Hermione looked around her, noticing that at some point in her reading, it had gotten dark outside. Trying to ignore her feelings of worthlessness, she finished the last two pages of the chapter, closing in on how large Voldemort's followers had grown over time.

Hermione followed the loud noises that led her to the kitchen. Ron, Draco, and James were taking about Quidditch while Lily was finishing getting dinner ready. Harry was still in the shower, and Sirius was nowhere to be found.

“Hi.” She greeted everyone. “Can I help you with anything, Mrs. Potter?” Hermione asked the older woman politely.

“You can track down Sirius and let him know dinner is ready. Harry should be out any minute. I think he's in the garage.” She answered, pulling plates from the cupboard.

Hermione nodded, “Of course.”

The door leading into the garage was closed, so Hermione knocked on it lightly before slowly pushing it open. Sirius was sitting on a small stool in front of his bike, a rag in one hand and some sort of polish in the other.

“Er…Mrs. Potter wanted me to tell you dinner is ready.” Hermione said awkwardly. It was very out of character for Sirius secluding himself from the group—he was normally the center of attention. Hermione knew that whatever happened today, Sirius was affected by it.

“Thanks, Hermione. I'll be right in.” Sirius replied, his voice unenthused.

Hermione turned to leave, but found herself turning back around. “Are you alright?” She asked, taking a few steps closer to her old professor.

“Just brilliant. Why do you ask?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her concern.

Hermione shrugged. “I heard about earlier…” She trialed off uncomfortably.

Sirius shrugged, but did not respond.

“He isn't angry with you. He…he blames himself.” Hermione blurted out, wanting to ease Sirius's guilt.

Her words caused him to pause in his movements of polishing the chrome on his bike. “I only did what he asked.” He said, his voice cold.

Hermione continued more into the garage, “He knows that. And…and I think it was a good idea. I think…I think he's taking on too much all at once. Maybe you could talk some sense into him?” Hermione suggested.

Sirius gave a short laugh. “And what makes you think he's going to listen to me?” He looked up and saw that Hermione was now almost hovering over him.

“Because he loves you—respects you. I think…I think if anyone can get through to him…it's you, Sirius. I have no doubt in my mind that it has to be you because that's the sort of bond the pair of you have. You are the one he goes to when he needs advice or help with anything. He sees you as an authority figure, but also as a close friend, and he loves you more than you know.” Hermione whispered, knowing her words were true. There was no doubting Harry's feelings for the man before her.

Sirius gave her a half-smile. “I'll see what I can do.” He stood and put his rag and polish away before walking with Hermione to the door. “I think you're forgetting who he is going to listen to even more than me, Hermione.”

Hermione looked over at him quizzically.

Sirius grinned. “That's you. He's a fool for you, woman, a fool like I've never seen before. I think it's worse than James and Lils to be honest.”

Hermione felt pink tinge her cheeks. “Maybe.”

Dinner was a comfortable affair. Everyone was scattered around in the living room, extra furniture and tables conjured up because of the limited seating. Most of the tension from earlier in the day was gone. Harry steered clear of one-on-one conversation with his Godfather. His anger towards the man was gone, but Harry knew Sirius was going to want to have a talk with him at some point, and he wasn't thrilled about the idea. Sirius wasn't one to sweep anything under the rug—he liked to keep everything out in the open. That was one of the many things Harry loved about him so much. If Sirius was angry, he would simply let you know. Subtlety never was his strong suit.

Sirius did not disappoint. As the evening drew to a close, Sirius cornered him in the kitchen. “We'll talk tomorrow, yeah?” He asked with a meaningful look. “I imagine you're tired right now.”

Harry looked down at the ground for a second before shrugging. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing for a just second before nodding and bidding his Godson good-bye. His mother and father followed suit soon after.

Harry surveyed the living room, where Ron and Draco were monopolizing the couch and recliner, both lounging comfortably with Xbox controllers in their hands. “Want in on this mate?” Ron asked, gesturing to the game.

Harry shook his head. “I'm beat. Think I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you two tomorrow.” He said, giving them a small wave before walking into the kitchen, where Hermione was finishing putting the dishes away.

He stood there for a few minutes, silent, just watching her with her back to him. She turned around and jumped when she saw him in the doorway, dropping the plate in her hand. It landed with a loud crash, but surprisingly did not break.

“You scared me. Could have alerted me that you were there, you know.” She said, picking the plate up and rewashing it.

Harry shrugged. “Could have. Or you could just be more observant of your surroundings.” He chided playfully.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Or you could stop being such a stalker, or shall I start calling you Edward?” She teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

Harry laughed. “I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?” He said, closing the distance between them and pulling her into a hug. “Want me to be your dreamy vampire lover?” He joked, raking his teeth against her neck, causing her to shiver in his arms.

“Maybe.” She challenged with a smirk.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Didn't know you were into the sort of thing, Miss Granger.” He taunted.

“Oh yes, the undead, the icy skin, the blood sucking…I'm all over.” Hermione replied with a roll of her eyes.

With a gleam in his eyes, Harry teeth bit playfully on Hermione's earlobe. “Well, speaking of sucking…” He trailed off suggestively.

“Don't finish that with something that is bound to get you slapped, Potter.” Hermione warned.

Harry drew back and raised his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I give up.”

“That's what I thought.” Hermione spoke with a satisfied smirk.

“But really…I'm going to bed before I fall asleep standing here. With my luck, I'll hit the counter, end up with a concussion, die, and Voldemort will never get his chance to kill me himself. Wouldn't want to rob him of that pleasure, now would we?” Harry joked morbidly.

Irritation flared up in Hermione at his nonchalance. “That's not funny, Potter.”

Harry nodded, though his expression showed he clearly disagreed. “Of course it isn't. Coming to bed?” He asked, stretching and attempting to stifle a yawn.

“Yeah.”

“Is it okay if I turn on the television, or will that bother you?” Hermione asked as they crawled into bed.

Harry shook his head and handed her the remote. “I'll be out in no time, it's fine.”

True to his words, once the lights were out and Hermione's hands began to gently rub slow, soothing circles on his back, Harry was asleep before the beginning credits of Hermione's movie were over.

She, however, would not be going to sleep. Not until she had a plan. An idea. Anything.

Bellatrix.

Bellatrix would know. How much would she know? Enough? Bellatrix could find out. She was the one most trusted.

She needed to manipulate Bellatrix into asking the right questions, then relaying her findings to Hermione.

Without Bellatrix knowing what she was doing.

Without her realizing who Hermione was.

Hermione eased out of bed and went to pick up her bag with her books in it. She brought that along with her book from earlier over to the small leather sofa in Harry's bedroom, where she sat down and turned on the lamp. She spread her books out so she could see them all, looking for the most helpful title. She reached down and picked up the small book Clarence had added to her bag entitled Charms of a Witch. Confused, she leafed through it vaguely. Inside were different helpful charms for witches, if she were correct in her assessment. Charms and potions for easy do-it-yourself household chores, correcting blemishes and quick-fixes for hair problems. Potions for menstrual cramps. She paused once she reached a page bookmarked by Clarence.

A contraceptive potion.

Just in case was written neatly on the bookmark in Clarence's hand.

Hermione stared at the pages for a few more seconds, contemplating the meaning. She closed the book the tossed it to the side. Sex wasn't something she had time to think about right now.

Hermione continued to browse through her books until she found one that looked promising. It briefly discussed known followers of Voldemort and crimes they were charged with. She noticed Bellatrix's rap sheet was as lengthy as it was disturbing. One incident that stuck out was the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom. Hermione knew them to be Neville's parents, and she was familiar with their situation due to a discreet conversation she had had with Harry one time. He had found out from his mother, who worked at St. Mungo's, where the Longbottoms resided in one of their permanent wards after being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse by Bellatrix along with a few others until they had lost their minds. Their condition had forced Neville to grow up with his stern grandmother.

Reading about the frightening woman made her task appear even more impossible. The witch would never spill a word. She had a better chance of asking Voldemort himself to share his plans with her. And of course, Voldemort would just as well kill her—something she was sure was on his list to hurt Harry before he tried to kill him.

Her mind was a spider web, and all these thoughts were caught in the stickiness of it. Unmoving, the notions just hung there innocently, trapped in her mind connected by tiny silk as she went from one thought to the next. Slowly, the ideas came to life as all the pieces—once trapped in place by the stickiness of her mind's web—seemed to grow spidery legs and gradually migrated to the center of the web. Combining, changing, creating. New ideas—completely mad ideas burst forth. Mental. Ideas that would never work. Ideas that were completely dangerous. Ideas that not only required a Plan B, but a Plan C, D, and possibly alternative death wish as well. Plans that would force oaths taken to be broken in a very big way. Lies to compound upon more deceit. There wasn't time. There wasn't enough planning. No one would be on board. There was no time to even do it.

But even as each obstacle presented itself, Hermione's mind—completely reeling—overcame it as her thoughts rushed ahead of her ten steps. She quickly stood and rushed from the room and into the bathroom. She ducked her head down and drank from the tap. She was shaking. She then splashed the cool water on her suddenly very heated face.

Toweling her face dry, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was pale and red at the same time. She could see the heat on her face. She put a hand on each side of the vanity to steady herself.

Don't be rash, Hermione. Harry going off to battle the Death Eaters himself. You jumping on Bellatrix's back. That isn't strategy, Hermione, that's stupidity. It's madness. Being reckless can get you killed.

Clarence's words floated around in her head, resounding in her brain.

Rash? Definitely

Mad? Doesn't even begin to cover it.

Reckless? In the words of Joey Tribbiani, this was so far passed the line to where recklessness ended that the line would be a dot to her.

PLEASE REVIEW! Next chapter should be HUGE! No time for much lyrical inspiration—want to get this out before work!

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Hello everyone. *evil glare* Unhappy camper over only 1 review last chapter. Where are you guys!?

Here's the new chapter. I hope you guys like it. If you don't review, I'll assume you all hate it and will probably cry because that type of thing hurts my feelings. Haha. But seriously, a little down about such little response over the last couple chapters. Stop making me angry—you won' t like me when I'm angry! Grrr!

Anyway, I hope you all like it. This chapter fast-forwards to them leaving Cliffinshire, and is mostly told through flashbacks (because we all know how much I love using flashbacks in ALL my stories). This is mainly just to save a lot of pointless writing/reading—just gets right to the important stuff, and really moves the plot forward, I think. Still haven't replied to reviews—I will get to that in the next few days. Third shift + overtime + house remodel + very little sleep = zero time for anything. Ha. Sad, but true.

Dedicated to Miss Moony because frankly they seem to be the only one that gives a damn. Haha. Thank you for your awesome review.

Disclaimer: I don't own shit. Hermione thinks about a movie she had seen once, and a line from it. The movie is The Crow, while the line is “it can't rain all the time.” Everything else is JKR's of course. No money being made, only smiles from the phantom reviews I get.

CHAPTER NINE: A Long Way Home

Oh, when I look back now
That summer seemed to last forever
And if I had the choice
Yeah, I'd always wanna be there
Those were the best days of my life

Ain't no use in complainin'
When you've got a job to do
Spent my evening's down at the drive-in
And that's when I met you, yeah

Standin' on your mama's porch
You told me that you'd wait forever
Oh, and when you held my hand
I knew that it was now or never
Those were the best days of my life

Oh, yeah.
Back in the summer of '69, oh.

Man we were killin' time
We were young and restless
We needed to unwind
I guess nothin' can last forever, forever, no!

“Summer of `69” BRYAN ADAMS

***

Hermione stared out at the sun, setting slowly behind the backdrop of the ocean. Still high enough in the sky for her to feel the rays of sunshine, but not for much longer, she knew. Leaning back on her hands, she unconsciously allowed the sand to squish between her fingers. Her gaze moved to the three boys out in the ocean with surf boards, splashing and laughing.

Stolen moments. Stolen, carefree moments.

Because they were leaving soon. Today was Monday, and they were leaving Wednesday. They—mainly Harry—had been training nonstop. Training more, training harder. For a few hours, they earned a reprieve.

Swimming, surfing, laughing.

And now, Hermione was sitting in the sand, alone, letting her mind wander. These days, that could be a dangerous thing.

She thought about how much had changed this last year. Right now, life was nowhere near where she had anticipated for it to be a year ago. She hadn't expected to find acceptance at Hogwarts—but she had gotten it, on some level. She hadn't sought love back in September, but she found it with Harry, somehow. Ron, Draco, Ginny, Luna, Neville—all friends she never thought she'd have, but was lucky enough to gain. The most wonderful few weeks of summer had been a surprise as well. It's terrible conclusion…another shock.

Hermione hadn't been prepared for Voldemort either. She never considered the idea of her being in relation to a dark, evil wizard. His return, and thirst for revenge, hadn't been in the cards either.

But this is where she was. There was no changing it, nor was there much of a point to even attempt to do so. She was who she was, and this was the direction her life had turned. She accepted that—both graciously and without complaint. A line from an old favorite movie floated in her head: “It can't rain all the time.”

No, it couldn't rain all the time, but it couldn't be sunshine and rainbows all the time either. She had to take one along with the other. Hermione was perfectly okay with that—appreciative that she had positive things going on in her life as well to outweigh the negative.

For now.

She contemplated what all of these changes meant—what it mean for the Wizarding world that she was a part of, what it meant for the Muggle world where her family still dwelled.

She thought of her plans, but quickly moved on. She didn't want to think about what he future held. In reality, however, she knew there was no running away from it. There was no stopping what was coming.

There was no stopping her decisions either—not when she felt they held too much logic, no matter the risk.

That's why she had given up what she had with Harry back in February. In her head, there was too much logic in her reasoning to remain nothing more than friends. Anything more was too dangerous. Perhaps she had been wrong then. Or perhaps she had been right, but couldn't hold fast to her decision because she let her heart interfere with her head.

Maybe she was wrong now. Or maybe she was right, and she would hold fast to her decision because for once, her heart and her head were unanimous on what she should do.

So much for not thinking about it.

Hermione sighed and desperately searched for something else to think about, and her mind landed on the vial tucked away safely in her top drawer in Harry's bedroom. It was filled with a potion she was able to brew with a few ingredients Sirius had in his own private stock. In her head, she didn't know if she was going to use it or not, but it seemed like something smart to have around just in case.

In her heart, she knew she wouldn't have made it if she hadn't intended on using it. She fought the grin that tried to make its way onto her face, and she failed miserably. In the midst of all that was going on, fussing over sex seemed completely trivial. However, it was the trivial things in life that gave them something to fight for, she realized, and she didn't feel as guilty then.

That was another notion for her to sit in the setting sun and wander about. Sex. Or, not so much sex, as how her attitude had changed in general about it, as well as so many other things that had changed about her. How much she had grown to care about not only magic, but the Wizarding world as a whole. How much her love had grown and branched out from not only her family, but to Harry and her other friends. How her courage had swelled so abundantly that she realized how far she would go to protect the ones she loved—there were no boundaries dangerous enough, no oaths strong enough, no enemy great enough to stop her from doing what she had to do, and she would protect because anything less would be unacceptable.

Hermione's eyes were closed, her hand resting on top of Harry's arms. He had his hand placed high on her upper thigh, his fingers curled around the inside of her leg so that it was dangerously inappropriate. His other hand was on the steering wheel, guiding them down the road through the falling rain lashing relentlessly against the windshield. Perhaps the weather was mocking them, setting the mood for their time apart that was ahead of them. Perhaps it was just normal British weather. Personally, Hermione guessed the latter. If the weather was mocking them, she figured it would assume something more along the lines of a hurricane or a tornado. Dangerous, treacherous. Something that left destruction in its path, if it knew the truth.

No, it was just rain, nothing more, nothing less.

She opened one eye and peeked over at Harry, how was staring straight ahead. He had used an Imprevious charm on his windshield, which kept the view clear for the most part. She squeezed his arm affectionately, just to let him know he was in her thoughts. He returned the gesture on her thigh, which caused pleasure to slowly stir somewhere in her abdomen. She grinned and gently guided his hand south a few inches in the direction of her knee, just in case he got any ideas. A much-needed safe area, especially considering the night before.

It was the last night in the house, and it was just the two of them. Ron and Draco had already taken their things and left. Hermione knew Draco was staying with Ron at the Burrow while they debated whether or not to just move into Headquarters. Perhaps they would all migrate to Harry's house. Hermione had no idea.

They were lying on the couch, watching a film that they weren't really watching at all. Harry hands and lips were desperately trying to distract her, and despite her resolve, it was embarrassing how easily he was winning her over. Without even thinking or considering what she was doing, Hermione scrambled to her feet and offered Harry her hand. She must have had a passionate glint in her eye because she could see the grin immediately curve on his lips.

“Come on.” Hermione simply stated, giving him a wink.

“Bedroom?” Harry asked, eagerly getting to his own feet and taking her hand.

Hermione nodded, which caused Harry's grin to widen further. “Yay! My favorite thing! Hermione Granger taking me to the bedroom!” He laughed, following her like the hormone-driven young man that he was.

Once they were inside with the curtains closed and the door shut, Hermione rummaged through her drawer and picked up the vial she had hidden. She popped the lid open, took a swig, and then offered it to Harry. Only one of them really needed to drink it, but she didn't see any harm in taking extra precautions. “Here. Take a drink of it.”

Harry took the vial from her hand and took a drink without question before replacing the stopper and giving it back. “Minty. And what is that?” He asked, peering over at her.

“The mint, I believe, is to set the mood. As for the rest of the ingredients,” Hermione said, wrapping him in a hug, “Those are to ensure that nobody here becomes…with child, as they put it.” She said with a laugh.

Her words caused Harry to still. “Are you saying…?” He asked, trailing off softly.

Hermione waited in silence as Harry only stared at her, both bemused and excited. “If you trailing off and not finishing your question is your way of asking if that means we can have sex…then the answer is yes.” She replied matter-of-factly, trying to keep her embarrassment and awkwardness to a minimum.

Hermione could see that Harry was desperately trying to not get his hopes up and was failing to do so. “Are…are you sure? I mean, I don't want you to feel like we have to, or just because summer is ending and our time here is over and with Voldemort hanging over our heads, like we have to rush into anything.” He was speaking quickly with his words tumbling over each other, and Hermione could barely understand him. She put a finger to his lips to force him be quiet.

“Stop talking. I am completely sure about this. If you want to wait, and still need to figure out if you are ready to lose your virginity…well then by all means, we can wait.” Hermione said with a nonchalant shrug. She meant it in a kidding fashion, but suddenly deep down she considered him rejecting her. Any time she had ever thought about this, she had never even speculated him saying no.

Her words caused Harry to chuckle. “Okay, we both know that isn't it. I would love nothing more than for this to happen, right now. I…I just don't want to be a regret is all. I love you too much for you to do something just because you think it's what I want, and you're not ready for.” Harry said softly, reaching up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

Hermione smiled, realizing how genuine he was being. She caught his hand in hers and allowed him to cradle the side of her face. “I…you could never be a regret, Harry. I mean…I can't promise that we'll be together in a year, let alone forever. That's…that's something ridiculous to promise. But I can promise that I love you right now. And I know you love me. And we have tonight. I know that sounds corny and maybe even like total rubbish but…it's true.” Hermione shrugged. “I know I love you, and I want this to happen, not because it would be the perfect ending to the summer, or because I think we should or we might not have tomorrow because of Voldemort or whatever.” Hermione ranted, now speaking too fast herself. She suddenly stopped, and took a deep breath. “I want to do this because…because I want to do this. I want to share this with you. I want us to be together like this. And frankly, I'm a little on the randy side, so if you don't want to be part of it, then please close the door on your way out.” She finally ended with laugh, trying to ease the awkwardness.

In response, Harry drew out of her arms and was already pulling his shirt over his head and kicking his trainers off in record speed. His socks came off next. His hands were just about to unbutton his jeans when he looked up to see Hermione staring at him, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Er…I don't really know the protocol here. Did you want to undress me?” He asked, looking down at his bare chest and naked feet. “I'm not even going to try to hide it…I'm a little nervous here.” He admitted, running a hand through his already messy hair.

Hermione stepped closer and snaked her arms around his neck. “How about you let me be nervous enough for the both of us—not out of doubt, just out of, well, I am losing my virginity here. It is a bit of a milestone. So let me be nervous, and you be calm and take the lead. We can do this however you want.” Hermione said slowly, feeling her own nervousness creep into her stomach.

Harry grinned. “Sounds like a plan. And if we are doing this my way, well, Miss Granger…I'm not so sorry to tell you that you are wearing way too many articles of clothing.” He said smoothly, picking her up and tossing her gently on the bed before quickly following.

***

Breathe in for luck,
breathe in so deep,
this air is blessed,
you share with me.
This night is wild,
so calm and dull,
these hearts they race,
from self control.
Your legs are smooth,
as they graze mine,
we're doing fine,
we're doing nothing at all.

My hopes are so high,
that your kiss might kill me.
So won't you kill me,
so I die happy.
My heart is yours to fill or burst,
to break or bury,
or wear as jewelery,
which ever you prefer.

“Hands Down” DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL

***

“What are you smiling about?” Harry's voice interrupted Hermione's thoughts, and the sound only caused her to smile more.

“Nothing. Just thinking about the summer. It was pretty great, wouldn't you say?” Hermione asked, keeping her eyes closed.

She felt Harry squeeze her leg in response. “Yeah, overall, I'd say it was actually quite amazing.” He said, his voice light.

Hermione nodded her head in agreement. “I thought so. Thank you for taking me there.” Hermione replied quietly.

“No problem, babe. Thanks for coming with me.” He responded with another squeeze.

Hermione finally opened her eyes and watched out of the window as the rain fell down all around them. Music played quietly through the speakers, a song Hermione wasn't familiar with, but she knew she had heard it over the weekend at the bowling alley when they had all gone out on Saturday night. It was designed to be a fun activity to end the summer with, despite all the hell that surrounded them. Hermione had suggested it—a safe setting for her real plan.

Inviting Blaise had been easy. Harry had questioned her intentions at first, but Hermione had played it off nonchalantly enough—she had enjoyed the girl's company at Harry party and if she wasn't mistaken, Draco and Blaise appeared to have had a good time together as well. The old Slytherin had accepted Hermione's invitation happily enough. The invite may have seemed a little random, but the girl showed anyhow. Hermione had been able to see she was slightly apprehensive, as if she wasn't entirely sure why she had come—very much like she had been at Harry's birthday party.

But she had showed, and that was what mattered. Getting the girl alone, however, had been the challenge. Hermione had watched, waited for the girl to separate from the group. Finally, when Blaise said something about going up to the counter to get something to eat, Hermione volunteered to go with her.

Hermione finally saw her opening. “Dinner is on me,” she called to the other four sitting in their seats. “I'll pick out something delicious and completely horrible for us.” Hermione laughed, gesturing for Blaise to lead the way. The girl—so naïve to what Hermione was about to ask of her—blindly led the way without a second thought.

Waiting on food would buy her a few minutes, and for that, Hermione was grateful. Once she placed her large order, she sat down and motioned for Blaise to join her. “I think the others can play a few frames without us.” Hermione joked lightly, though she could sense Blaise's uneasiness.

“I suppose. Thanks for inviting me out tonight. It's been fun. With Healer training just around the corner, my social life is about to become nonexistent…a night out…well, I've needed that.” Blaise said with a small grin on her face, which Hermione returned with a tight smile of her own.

“No problem.” She had no idea how to ask. No idea how to bring it up. Hermione figured Blaise's opening was just as good as any. “Healing training…I bet that's going to be brutal.” She said, taking a sip of her drink.

The girl nodded. “Yeah, I know it's not going to be easy. I'm stuck between not looking forward to it and not being able to wait for it to start. Sounds a little mental, I suppose?” Blaise laughed warmly.

Hermione tried not to let her jealously of the normal path Blaise was taking—something she would love to do. Blaise's plans contrasted so much compared to Hermione's. “No, not at all. I'm sure it will be fun.”

Blaise shrugged.

“I imagine you won't have much of a break once you get started.” Hermione said slowly, fishing for her own opening.

Blaise shook her head. “No, once I get started…well, let's just say I won't be able to come up for air any time soon. They don't really give their students much of a break.”

It was possibly all she was going to get, so Hermione took her chance. “You should do something…something big then, before it starts. Something for you to think about while you're wasting away behind all your course books.” Hermione laughed, though the thought of such rigorous studying sounded like Heaven to her.

Blaise raised an eyebrow, “Maybe…but I doubt it. Not a lot of time to plan anything.” She replied, slightly confused by Hermione's words.

“Have you ever been to Greece?” Hermione asked bluntly, knowing beating it around the bush wasn't something they had time for.

“No.” Blaise replied.

Hermione smiled. “Would you like to go?”

Blaise shrugged. “I suppose sometime, when I could. I've heard it's amazing. I've always been a bit of a mythology nut, to be honest.” She admitted with a laugh.

“We are going there on a family vacation—my parents, my cousin, and myself. Sort of a graduation celebration for my cousin and me.” Hermione said slowly.

“Lucky you!” Blaise grinned. “Way to rub my nose it in by the way, cheers to that you spoiled brat!” She raised her glass to Hermione before taking a drink.

“I was thinking…I was thinking…that maybe…maybe you would like to go…in my place.” Hermione said slowly, bit by bit.

Blaise's expression turned dubious. “Oh, alright. I'll just do that.” She agreed sarcastically.

“I'm being completely serious, Blaise.” Hermione stated with a straight face.

Her words caused Blaise to still. “What are you on about?”

Hermione looked over to the group they were with, and knew there wasn't much time before Harry would come over here. Or perhaps Ron would come and check for an ETA on the food. She bit her lip, hunched closer to Blaise, and began to speak in hushed tones very quickly, “I mean exactly what I'm saying. I…I need a favor. It's a win-win for you. No risk. You'll get a free vacation that you would absolutely love—all expenses paid. You don't have to worry about planning or anything. Everything is taken care of already. You would leave not this Wednesday, but the next and come back a week and a half later on that Saturday. All you have to do is go and have fun in Greece…as me.”

Blaise looked at Hermione as if she had gone mad. “You are mental, Granger, you know that? You want me to pretend to be you, and go on some family vacation? Do you realize just how insane you sound?” She asked, moving to get up but Hermione grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

“I know I'm asking a lot here, but…but I didn't know who else to ask.” Hermione confessed, giving the girl before her a pleading looking.

“Why don't you want to go?” Blaise asked, pulling her arm away.

Hermione had prepared for this question and cleared her throat purposefully. “Harry is going to a training camp for two weeks. I have something planned for him, and I have a lot of Muggle universities I'm looking at…this trip is just coming at the worst of times. I can't back out because my parents have been looking forward to it for months. It would break their hearts. However…I just can't go right now. They might understand about the university part, but with Harry and the Wizarding world…they aren't as understanding. They're Muggles and all, you know that. I…I just really need you to do this for me. Consider me forever in your debt.” Hermione finished her short speech with another begging look.

Blaise, however, remained skeptical. “You're insane.” She repeated. “I'm supposed to just drop everything, no warning, and do you a solid that's not only taking me to a different country, but is going to cause me to be gone a week and a half?! Do you even hear yourself?” Blaise's eyes were bugging slightly at this point.

Hermione shrugged as the insult rolled off her. “I know what I'm asking.” She stated, giving Blaise a look full of meaning. “And you can't tell anyone about this—not even Harry. It's a surprise for him. No one is to know. And…and you don't have to answer now even. Just keep it to yourself and think about it while we're here, and I'll just need to know by the end of the night. Is that okay?” Hermione asked.

Blaise didn't look convinced, and Hermione could tell she thought she didn't need any time to think about anything. “Please.” Hermione repeated, “Please, just…just think about it.” Hermione begged, her voice pleading.

“I'll…I'll think about it.” Blaise replied, looking down at the table. Hermione wasn't sure if she was actually going to consider this madness, or if she was just humoring Hermione.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” Harry asked as they pulled into a fuel station.

“I'll take a water.” Hermione replied softly, looking over at her boyfriend.

“One water coming right up.” Harry said with a grin before leaning in for a quick kiss. “Not like there isn't enough of that falling from the sky now, is there?” He chuckled before opening the door and getting out of the car.

Hermione turned her attention back to the window and continued to watch the storm as her thoughts pressed on.

Hermione had been restless all evening. During their last few frames, she kept throwing Blaise anxious looks, trying to catch her eye. She was only able to finally corner her when Blaise went to the loo. When Hermione followed her, she was surprised to see the girl leaning causally against the wall. She realized Blaise had gone to the restroom to simply to give Hermione a chance to follow her.

“Well?” Hermione asked, looking around to ensure they were, in fact, alone.

“I'm not buying it. I don't think you'd give up going to Greece over…over such stupid reasons—especially when the trip is for you. And if you`re going to lie to me…well, my answer is no. Find someone else to help you.” She said coldly before moving to push passed Hermione towards the door.

“Wait!” Hermione called after her. Speaking to Blaise's back, Hermione continued, “If…if I tell you the truth, would you consider changing your answer, or are you just completely against it?” Hermione asked slowly.

Blaise turned around to face her. “I would definitely consider changing my answer.”

Hermione nodded. “Then why does it matter so much? Whether you know the real reason why or not…why?” Hermione asked.

Blaise shrugged. “It just does.”

“Then come over to Sirius's house with us and…and I'll explain it there. They are going to get suspicious if we don't get back out there.” Hermione said with a sigh.

“Okay.”

Once they returned to the group, Hermione grinned at Harry and greeted him with a kiss. “We were just talking, and thought it would be nice to have another bonfire on the beach, maybe sit in the sand close enough so the waves can freeze our toes or something. What do you think?” Hermione asked, looking up at her boyfriend with her eyes wide with innocence.

“I think that sounds brilliant. Ron, Draco, Luna—what do you guys think?” He asked with a shrug.

“I've got to be getting home, but you lot have fun. It was nice seeing you all again.” Luna said, her trademark dreamy expression in place.

“I'll take her home then meet up with you lot later then.” Ron said, taking her hand and leading her to a secluded place safe for Apparation.

“Alright then, let's go party.” Draco said with a smirk.

“A boring water for you, and a boring water for me. And because I feel like getting a little crazy…a banana for us to split. See, it's kind of like a banana split…except it's nothing like one, really.” Harry said with a frown, eyeing the browning banana with distaste.

Hermione smiled. “You can have my half—I think you need it more than I do to fill the banana split-shaped hole in your heart from having to eat healthy all summer.” She said, taking her offered water.

“I think I'm going to need about three banana splits to even make a dent in that hole.” Harry replied, downing half of his bottle of water in one gulp.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “No sense of moderation in anything.”

Alone in the kitchen with Blaise, while the boys were all out getting the fire ready and tossing a ball around, Hermione felt her vulnerability slowly start to take hold. Blaise was sitting at the small bar, eyes expectant and waiting for a justifiable reason for Hermione to ask her of such a favor.

“When I first started Hogwarts,” Hermione began slowly, forcing herself to relive memories she had kept locked away. “…I was walking down a corridor after classes. Happy, excited for an upcoming trip to Hogsmeade. Out of nowhere, I spotted some older students hazing a couple of Second Years. Slytherins—Avery's gang. You know the lot.” Hermione said, looking down at the counter as she spoke in a monotone voice. “I stopped them, and when I turned around to leave…they wouldn't let me. Before I knew what was happening, I was being shoved up against the wall—hard enough to hurt my head. Avery pulled my hair and I was thrown to the ground. I was kicked. Thrown against the cold, stone walls some more. Cut and bleeding—in quite a bit of pain.” Hermione felt tears form at the corners of her eyes as she finally looked up and over at Blaise, who mirrored her expression with a look of sadness. “Everyone knew. Everyone knew what had happened to me, yet nothing was done about it. Nothing was said to anyone of authority. Everyone said I had it coming…I had it coming because I took the beating for a couple of young kids that I didn't even know, but stuck my neck out for.

“Then things got better, down the road. Harry and I were dancing around the idea of friendship between the two of us. It was rocky—it was difficult. I was in the Common Room alone, and he was out doing his Head Boy rounds. Two boys—a blonde and a ginger—attacked me. Tried to convince me that a friendship with Harry Potter would never last. I would never be accepted. Then they threatened me—had this deadly spider, the Internecivus Araneus. They put this thing…on my neck.” Hermione said, her voice breaking slightly. “Just touching it caused a rash on my skin. They threatened my life.”

Blaise shook her head. “No, no, Weasley and Malfoy…no, it couldn't possibly have been…no.” Blaise spoke, refusing to believe Hermione's words.

Hermione nodded. “You're right. It couldn't have been them. Ron is desperately afraid of spiders. But it was someone pretending to be them. That night, I didn't sleep. The next night, however, began the torment of nightmares I had been subjected to. Night terrors that centered around a promise a persuasive Slytherin made to me after seeing me turn my wand on my fellow classmates. I was no longer a leper to Avery—now, I was a new candidate for following in the Dark Lord's footsteps. It had been him, that night in the Common Room. He had bewitched me then, I think. Took control of my dreams, and made me dream terrible things. Horrible things that, back then…I almost wanted.” Hermione breathed, baring her confession.

“Fast forward to the end of the year. I was lying in my bed. Harry had fallen asleep with me, and he was in the loo. Avery must have thought I was alone—why wouldn't I be? He crept into my dorm,” Hermione spoke, her voice raising a little now, “Crawled into my bed, touched my body—no, I don't think he was going to rape me, that's not what I mean, but he…he crossed boundaries, nonetheless. And he took a dagger…and…and…” Hermione choked on her emotions before forcing herself to remain strong, “And he almost took my life, right there. He sedated me, and tortured me some more in my dreams.” Hermione swallowed hard. “You already know this story.” She said quietly.

Blaise nodded, numb and with her eyes brimming with tears from hearing Hermione's tales.

Hermione wiped the corner of her eyes. “Avery. I think you can understand my hatred for him.” Hermione stated quietly. “Harry told me about your sister fancying him. Told me he saved someone from being raped—thinks it was either you, or someone close to you.” Hermione pried, wanting to know where her loyalty lied.

Blaise bit her lip before speaking softly. “I was fifteen, and my boyfriend was seventeen. Some stupid Hufflepuff bloke. He always got too handsie. One time, it got too far, and he wouldn't stop. Avery…Avery walked in just in time. He beat the shit out of my boyfriend, even though he was smaller in size. When he was done, he looked at me, and he said `that's why you should stick to Slytherins, Zabini,' and we never spoke of it again.” Blaise told her, trying to appear detached. “I took up training with my mum that summer because I promised myself I would never be handled like that again.”

Hermione nodded. “I can see how you might feel indebted to him.”

Blaise's demeanor changed instantly. “Let's get this straight—I don't feel indebted to him at all. He's a slimeball and I can't stand him. He helped me once—he's done enough bad things to tip the scales in the other direction. I owe him nothing.” She spit out.

Hermione smirked. “I'm glad you feel that way. What I'm planning on doing for that week and a half, Blaise, is track him down. I want to do it alone because I think…I think I deserve to be the one to find him. Harry…he'll take matters in to his own hands, even if he says he won't. Dumbledore, everyone—me finding him on my terms is the only way I'll get to do this the way I want to do this. Whether you believe the Dark Lord has returned or not is on you—but we know the truth, and in case you haven't noticed, Harry barely gives me a moment alone. With him gone at camp—this is my only chance. I think he's only going to get worse as this war goes on. I need this, for my own peace of mind.” Hermione voice was soft and still pleading.

Blaise no longer looked skeptical, but more so indecisive. “I…don't you think it's too dangerous? I mean…I dunno if I believe everything about You-Know-Who being back, I think I do, even though I really don't want to…but what I mean is…if Avery is connected to him, then Hermione, this isn't safe.” Blaise pointed out.

“I know. I'm not being thick about this, Blaise. I'm not looking for trouble. I'm going to keep a safe distance and just…just see if I can find him.” Hermione replied.

“Dumbledore hasn't been able to track him down, what makes you think you can?” Blaise asked, skeptical.

Hermione shrugged in response. “I'm not saying I'm going to find him. I've just got a really good feeling about this, like maybe…maybe I'll be on the underground, and I'll just so happen to be in the same car as him, or I'll pass him on the street. I dunno, and I can't explain it. I asked you to help me because…well, because I thought we might have a common enemy. What if he goes after your sister? I've just told you what he's capable of—I'm not going to say he's going to, I'm just saying…I know I wouldn't leave that to chance. Maybe he gets desperate. Maybe he remembers Blaise Zabini's little sister had a thing for him. Maybe he doesn't. I can't predict the future, Blaise, but I do know that he is dangerous, and I want my chance at him first.” Hermione said passionately, getting to her feet.

Hermione watched as her words registered in Blaise's head. Nothing more sacred than a younger sibling. “I would kill him.”

Hermione nodded. “I know we aren't good friends or anything, and I realize you shouldn't really give a damn about what I've been through with this creep, but…but have compassion, I beg you. I want my chance here, and I hate that this is what I'm going to have to give up because family means the world to me. But this needs settled, and I need to be the one to do so. I need to do it before Harry goes after him himself. With summer over…I can see that happening. So I'm asking you to please, reconsider you answer. Give me this chance to face my attacker because I know you would want the same chance, now, against that slimeball Hufflepuff—and if you need someone to have your back with that, I swear I will be there. Just…just think it over—again—and let me know before you leave.” Hermione requested before walking out of the kitchen and heading for the beach, Blaise trailing behind her.

At the bowling alley, Hermione had been anxious, constantly looking at Blaise for her answer. Here, in the firelight, after sharing her horrors with this stranger, Hermione felt emotionally drained. She had pushed those memories somewhere deep inside her, buried far from the surface. She knew they were still there, but she had moved passed them. Reliving them tonight had proved one thing to her: they may be gone, but they certainly were not forgotten. Being suppressed did not dull the pain they caused.

Lounging in the sand with the fire to keep her warm, Harry on her right and Ron on her left, Hermione felt at peace in a way. She had done what she could, and now the proverbial ball was no longer in her court. Some while later, as the times passed and the clock told her it was after two in the morning, Hermione glanced up, across the flames where Draco and Blaise sat together laughing. Blaise happened to look her way at the same time, and Hermione caught her eye. For a few seconds that felt like hours, the two girls locked eyes. Finally, with a solemn look, the girl—really not much more than an acquaintance to Hermione—gave the smallest of nods. The private exchange between the two girls went unnoticed by the three boys surrounding them, all laughing about something that Hermione was sure only the three of them would understand. In response, Hermione gave Blaise the hint of a smile in thanks, a promise that it would all work out—it had to.

Hermione didn't know why exactly she had gone after Blaise of all people. Maybe it was because they weren't friends, and the girl wouldn't care as much as say Ginny or Luna—both Hermione did not trust with this. She knew they would run to Harry. Hermione didn't necessarily trust Blaise either, but for this, she had to. She felt like she could trust her with this, at least. She was far enough away to be indifferent, her loyalty not bound to Harry at all. She was getting the trip of a lifetime. If Hermione had to guess, she figured the only reason Blaise may have harbored distressed feelings and needed to know the reason behind it all was simply because if Hermione had gotten herself hurt, and Harry found out Blaise's role in helping Hermione…well, he may push part of the blame on the Slytherin girl.

It was a chance Hermione was willing to risk, she realized. Plan A, Plan B—Plans C, D, and E. Nothing was guaranteed. If Hermione found herself in trouble, then she would just have to deal with it. If her trouble, in turn, caused difficulty for Blaise…that was an unfortunate casualty. She was trying her best to keep the girl from getting any backlash. If her plans went right, then nobody would be any wiser to the fact that Hermione Granger never left for Greece in the first place.

“I'm thinking about telling Jenna about…well, about me being a witch.” Hermione said out of the blue, looking over at Harry to gauge his reaction.

“Wow, that's…I dunno, are you sure that's a good idea?” He asked, slightly concerned.

Hermione shrugged. “It is something I have always thought about sharing with her, but it never felt right. I think…I think this is sort of like a now-or-never moment, and I think I want to. I think she'll be cool about it—I hope so anyway. It should bring us closer together.” Hermione reasoned lightly.

Of course, that bit was all only half true. Yes, she had wanted to share it with her cousin but never felt she had been mature enough to handle it—they had always been too young. Now, both starting adulthood, Hermione felt it was a good time. The bigger part, however, was that she was going to need her cooperation with Blaise. Blaise didn't know a thing about Hermione. It would be easier if there was someone there to guide her and help her pull it off. Jenna would be the perfect candidate.

Hermione knew her cousin would no doubt be angry that Hermione was backing out of the trip, but she hoped her cousin would find some understanding.

Harry shrugged. “I suppose. I know my cousin would be better off in the dark, but then again, my mum's family hate magic. If you think she can handle it, and keep it secret, then sounds good to me.” He finished with a grin.

Hermione smiled back. “If it doesn't work out, I suppose I could always Obliviate her.” Hermione joked, sniggering slightly.

Harry nodded with a chuckle. “There you go. We'll call that Plan B.”

His choice of words made Hermione's grin falter ever so slightly. Please, please not Plan B.

***

They made it to Hermione's house around eight `o'clock that evening. Sitting out in the car upon arriving, neither made a move to get out of Harry's car.

“I guess this means summer is really over.” Hermione said quietly, looking out into the dark night.

She felt Harry squeeze her hand. “Yeah.” His voice was rough. “Now…now we go be adults.”

Hermione felt her stomach twist painfully in response. “Yeah.”

“I…this time with you had been amazing, Hermione. I…I just want you to know that.” Harry said, turning to face her in the car.

Hermione smiled back at him. “Ditto. Best summer ever. But we should get inside. My parents are expecting me. You can stay for a few minutes, yeah?” She asked, her hand searching the door for the handle and propping open the door.

Harry eased out of the car and grabbed Hermione's bag from the trunk. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he replied with a smirk, “Of course. We've got to tell you r parents all about our trip, and I'm sure they'll want to know all about the madly inappropriate things I did to their daughter.” He laughed in her ear, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Oh, hush you.” Hermione responded, shoving Harry playfully away.

She opened the door and walked inside. “Mum! Dad! I'm home!” She called, and followed the sounds of voice in the kitchen. Her mother met her in the doorway.

“Hermione! Dear, we've missed you!” She said, pulling Hermione into a crushing hug. Next, she approached her father, hugging his as well.

Jenna was sitting at the table, a smile on her face. “About bleeding time, cousin!” She said, jumping up and pulling Hermione into a hug.

“Well—how was your trip?!” Hermione's mother asked, ushering for Hermione and Harry to sit down. “Sit, sit. I'll grab some tea. Harry, dear, you can put her bag down, just right behind you if you don't mind.” Once everyone was sitting around the table, Hermione and Harry were bombarded with questions about how the summer had gone.

After half an hour of dissecting the beach, there was finally a small break in the conversation.

“I should probably get going. My parents are waiting up for me.” Harry said, looking at Hermione wistfully. “It was really nice seeing you again, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Jenna.” He bid them farewell, shaking Hermione's father's hand and hugging her mother.

“I'll walk you out.” Hermione said, getting to her feet as well.

The walk to his car was a quiet one. “How far are you going to drive?” Hermione asked, once they reached his car.

“Probably until I reach a dark and deserted street corner.” Harry laughed. “Are you telling your cousin tonight?”

Hermione shrugged. “I think so. I know she'll want to stay up half the night talking about it. I imagine we will be going shopping tomorrow to pick up a few things for the trip.”

Harry sighed. “I'm going to have to get used to not watching over you all the time.”

Hermione smiled. “I'll be fine. I'm more worried about getting used to sleeping alone at night.” She laughed. “And besides,” she joked, “We all know I'm the one that's been watching over you!”

Harry laced his fingers with hers. “I could come back, later, if you'd like. I know I'd like that.” He told her softly.

The idea did sound tempting. “I wasn't joking when I said my cousin was going to want to stay up half the night. Maybe…maybe tomorrow, if that's okay?” She offered.

Harry leaned forward and kissed her softly. “Sounds brilliant. Please…please, just…be careful. You know I'm going to be worried—whether you like it or not. So just…watch out. Keep in contact. When I'm gone, maybe Sirius can keep tabs or something with you, just to make sure nothing happens.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I'll be fine, Harry. We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, go home, get some rest—see your family. You'll need the rest for your physical tomorrow. Don't worry about me. You're going to go gray before you're thirty at this rate.”

Harry shrugged and silently pulled her into a hug in response. “I love you.”

Hermione inhaled the scent of him—something that simply felt home to her now. “I know. I love you too.”

***

To this day when I hear that song, I see you standing there on that lawn
Discount shades, store bought tan, flip-flops and cut off jeans
Somewhere between that setting sun, I'm On Fire and Born To Run
You looked at me and I was done, we were just getting started

I was singing to you, you were singing to me
I was so alive, never been more free
Fired up my daddy's lighter and we sang oh
Stayed there 'til they forced us out
We took the long way to your house
And I can still hear the sound
Of you saying, "Don't go"

When I think about you
I think about 17
I think about my old Jeep
I think about the stars in the sky
Funny how a melody sounds like a memory
Like a soundtrack to a July Saturday night
Springsteen

“Springsteen” ERIC CHURCH

***

Hermione paced her room, heart beating a little faster than normal. She had already told her parents good night and Jenna was finishing up in the shower. Hermione stopped in front of her school trunk beside her bed. The large trunk held all of her magical possessions in it, save her wand that was sitting on her desk. She popped it open and searched for a long, thin box tucked away in one of the corners. She opened the empty box, placed her wand in the velvet wrappings, and then slowly replaced the lid. She slid the thin box under her pillow, a safe place until the great reveal.

Hermione closed her trunk then took a seat on her bed next to the large, ginger-colored fluff ball in the center of her bed. “Do you like your new home, Crookshanks?” She cooed to the cat, reaching over to scratching him between his ears. He purred and nuzzled into her hand, eyes closed. She sat there for a few minutes, petting Crookshanks, until finally the door opened and her cousin stepped in. Jenna ran and jumped onto Hermione's bed.

“I can't believe how big this cat is—it's ridiculous. But he's so cute!” She gushed, reaching over and stroking Crookshanks, who rolled to his stomach and lavished the attention from the two girls.

“Yeah, he is something special.” Hermione replied, smiling down at his orange face.

“So…how was your summer? I see that you and Harry got together—big surprise there.” Jenna said with a knowing look.

Hermione grinned. “Yes, yes we did.”

“And even went on vacation with his family. Nice. And what do they think of you?” Her cousin asked, propping herself up on her bent elbow.

Hermione shrugged. “His father doesn't seem to have much of a problem with me. His mother, however…well, I think she is getting used to me, or that might just be wishful thinking on my part.” She admitted.

Jenna nodded. “Yeah, you can get that from mums sometimes. No one wants to see their little boy grow up—especially when they can't give their little boys what other girls can. Well, not without it being a little demented.” Jenna said suggestively, wagging her eyebrows. “Speaking of which…where would you put you and Harry on the bar of…ahem…sordid affairs.” She asked, a Cheshire cat grin in place.

Hermione could feel herself go red in response. “That's none of your business, so butt out!”

With a knowing grin, Jenna giggled. “Okay so definitely passed snogging then…just how far passed, cousin?” She asked with a wink. “Give out any handy-dandies?”

“I'm not talking to you about this!” Hermione said, shaking her head.

“No denial. Is that all then? Did either of you go down?!” She kept on, her grin wider than ever.

Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to ignore her embarrassment. “I'm not talking about it!” She repeated.

“You did! You went down! You sucked his co—” Jenna exclaimed before Hermione clapped her hand over her cousin's mouth.

“Be quiet! Do you realize how loud you are being?!” Hermione said, eyes wide.

Jenna giggled. “I'm sorry, I just can't get over it. My little cousin—giving head. Think you'll be shagging soon now?” She joked, still giggling.

Hermione remained silent and looked down at her comforter, face still heated. She looked up in time to see the large grin on her cousin's face suddenly slacken. “Oh my…holy fuck!” She whispered excitedly, quickly sitting up so she was level with Hermione. “Did…did you have it off with him, Hermione!?”

Hermione knew her face said it all, and she could only smirk in response.

“You two shagged! This is huge. Last time I saw you, you were…you were practically the Virgin Mary. Now, you're out getting your rocks off with sexy hunks like Harry Potter, and you won't even tell me about it! You little slag!” Jenna accused, still smiling. “At least tell me if it was good or not.”

She knew her cousin was not going to stop until Hermione gave her some details, and Hermione needed to move them on to the next subject. Finally, she sighed. “When I say I went on a family vacation…I mean Harry and I spent the summer with his two best mates at his Godfather's beach house…practically alone. So naturally…things happened—really really fantastic things. And to answer your question…yes…yes we did. And it was just brilliant.” Hermione offered.

Jenna grabbed her hand and squeezed excitedly. “I can't believe it! Wow. Please tell me I'm getting more details than that.” She pressed.

Hermione shook her head. “Not right now, because right now, there's something else I want to talk about, something…something important I want to share with you. I need you to be completely open-minded too.” Hermione warned.

“Way to put a damper on my excitement.” Jenna accused.

Hermione grinned. “Oh, trust me, this is way more exciting than my sex life. It's something I've been wanting to tell you for a very long time, but it hasn't been the right time. Now…now I think you can handle it.”

“Alright, cousin, lay it on me.” Jenna replied, crossing her legs Indian style in front of Hermione and pulling Crookshanks in her lap.

Hermione shook her head. “You aren't going to believe me, but what I'm telling you is the truth—Gospel as Paul. Just…just keep an open-mind.” Hermione reminded her.

Jenna nodded mockingly. “Yes, yes. Any more open-minded and I'd become a lesbian. Now, please, the suspense is killing me!” She said dramatically.

Hermione chuckled. “Okay. In this world,” Hermione began, “There are…different types of people. People…you don't realize not only exist, but you interact with them all the time, and never even suspect anything.” Hermione paused, and Jenna stared at her blankly and remained silent. “What I'm trying to say is…there is such thing as…as…magic.”

Hermione stopped again, gauging her cousin's reaction. Jenna raised an eyebrow in response. “Magic…?” She repeated slowly. “And how…do you know?”

Her question hung in the air.

Hermione took a deep breath and reached for the thin box behind her pillow. “I know this because…well, because I'm part of that world.” She said slowly, pulling the lid off her wand box and showing her cousin the contents. “Don't faint.”

“And that makes you….?”

“A witch, with real magical powers.” Hermione answered, freeing her wand from its box so her cousin could take a closer look.

Thump!

Hermione sighed. “I told you not to faint.”

***

Got a secret
Can you keep it?
Swear this one you'll save
Better lock it, in your pocket
Taking this one to the grave
If I show you then I know you
Won't tell what I said
Cause two can keep a secret

“Secret” THE PIERCES

Well, what did you guys think? Not really where I wanted to end it—I actually have several more pages written because I didn't know where I wanted to break it off, but it just seemed like too much in this chapter. I didn't want to take away from any other revelations that happened in this chapter.

Once again…please please please leave me a review. 1 review last chapter makes Archie very sad (though the review was awesome). Honestly beginning to think no one is even reading this!

I should have the next chapter out by next weekend—I've gone over what it is going to be several times in my head. That should make it easy to write. I am SUPPOSED to be a little farther along in this story by this chapter, but oh well, shit happens. That might cause another chapter or two tacked on at the end, who knows.

Anyway. Review. Keep an eye out for a new chapter soon or something completely new—I've got a few ideas churning for some kickass one-shots (and new chapters to my other stories).

See you all next time.

*~Archie~*

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Hi! I know it has been ages, but I've had a lot going on, and very little motivation for this chapter. I'm just ready to get passed all this boring stuff and get where I wanna be! Haha. Anyway, I'll reply to reviews sometime today(?) hopefully. Not much time now, so I'm gonna make this short. Not much going on, but the next chapter should be pretty big. I'll post soon—promise!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. There is a Degrassi reference kinda—high five to anyone who catches it.

CHAPTER TEN: A True Slytherin Underneath

But we're never gonna survive unless
We get a little crazy
No we're never gonna survive unless
We are a little...

“Crazy” ALANIS MORISSETTE

***

Using her wand, Hermione splashed water on her cousin's face.

Jerking awake and upon seeing a small water fountain shooting out of the thin stick in her cousin's hand, Jenna instantly moved back, falling off the bed. She scrambled to her feet and flew up against the wall. “What in the bloody hell, Hermione!?” She exclaimed, eyes wide in surprise.

Hermione held her hands out diplomatically, palms up to show no harm. “Stay calm. I know this is a lot to take in.” Hermione tossed her wand on her bed. “Please, sit down, so I can tell you about this.”

Shaking slightly, Jenna slowly returned to the bed, speechless.

Hermione nodded. “Okay, just clarifying here. I am a witch.” She repeated. “Do you understand this?”

Jenna gave a small nod.

“And do you believe me?” Hermione continued, her voice unrushed and giving her cousin all the time she needed to digest this bizarre scrap of information.

Jenna's slow head-shake of “no” gradually turned into a muted shrug of her shoulders.

“Okay, I can work with that.” Hermione replied. “Take as much time as you need. Just…just let me know when you're ready to talk about it.”

Hermione made to lean back but before she could her cousin blurted out, “What the bloody fuck, Hermione!? You're…you just…water and the stick and-and-and…I think I'm going to faint again.”

“You aren't going to faint again.” Hermione assured her, snapping her fingers in front of Jenna's face. “Um, I guess I'm just going to talk, and you can listen, and if you have any questions—I'm sure you have a lot of them—well, just ask, but let me talk too, okay?” She laughed.

Jenna nodded mutely, and then raised her hand slightly.

“What? You don't have to raise your hand.” Hermione said, looking her raised hand absurdly.

“How long have you known? Uncle Daryl and Aunt Sharon—are they? Wow, this is bizarre.” She concluded, eyes wide in disbelief.

“No, my parents aren't. They—and you—are what the Wizarding world refers to as `Muggles.' It means you don't have magical abilities. And I've known since I was eleven. I didn't do anything about it until I was fourteen.” Hermione answered her. “Do…do you want me to tell you about it?” She asked.

Jenna nodded again.

“Okay, it's kind of a long story, but I'm just going to touch down on some of the basics. When I was eleven, I got a letter of acceptance into a Wizarding school called Hogwarts. It all came out then. My dad had heard legends about it, but never really thought they were true—I get it from his side of the family. There haven't really been many of us cropping up in the family, and whenever it did happen…well, no one embraced the Wizarding community. To make a long story short—the Grangers were exiled from the Wizarding world a very long time ago.” Hermione explained briefly.

“Anyway, so nothing happened. When I was fourteen, I got a note giving me directions to a magical library. The letter—I think—was written by Albus Dumbledore, who is the headmaster of Hogwarts. Well, I went to the library, and Clarence—the Liberian—took me under her wing and taught me most of my magical education. In the Wizarding world, a witch comes Of Age at seventeen. They attend Hogwarts for seven years. Last summer, I received my last Hogwarts letter. I was seventeen—soon-to-be eighteen. It was my last chance to go to the school. I had been practicing and learning with Clarence for several years now. I tested with the headmaster, and was granted acceptance. When I told I went to a boarding school last year…I really went to Hogwarts. It was the first time I've ever been in the Wizarding world, except at the library with Clarence.” Hermione told Jenna, who was mesmerized by Hermione's tale.

“I graduated from Hogwarts in June, and now…now I don't know what I'm going to do. And that's pretty much it.” Hermione concluded.

“That's unbelievable. Can…can you do magic again?” Jenna asked, a little shy now—something Hermione had never seen before.

Hermione laughed. She picked up her wand, flicked it, and caused a pillow to levitate in the air.

“Wow.” Jenna whispered, not hiding her shock. “I…I can't believe it…but…but I mean, I see it, and…and it's right there!” She gestured at the floating pillow.

“I want to show you something.” Hermione said, a glint in her eye. She opened her trunk and pulled out a photo album she had made during her time at Hogwarts. “This is Hogwarts.”

Jenna rushed over to Hermione's side so she could see the album too. Hermione flipped open the cover to the first picture. It was a Muggle picture, unmoving in its frame. Hermione smiled. “That's Ron and Draco, and Harry—well you already know him.” She said softly, looking at the picture of the four of them. It had been taken during one of the last few days at Hogwarts. Harry's arm was wrapped around her waist, with Ron to his left and Draco on her right, all with arms slung around each others' shoulders.

She turned the page. “That's Hogwarts.” Hermione breathed quietly.

“Holy shit—this picture over here is moving!” Jenna said, astonished.

Hermione laughed. “Yeah, Wizarding photos do that. Anyway, this will show you a lot about the school. The sports. The people. The professors.” Hermione said, flipping the page.

For the next half an hour, Hermione went through the large photo album with her cousin, pointing out all the various things she had been able to capture with her modified camera.

“This is the Transfiguration professor. And Flitwick teaches Charms.” Hermione said, pointing to two photos of her professors. Harry and Ron each had an arm about McGonagall and were giving a `thumbs up' while the older woman gave the hint of a smile between the two Gryffindors. With Flitwick, he had been a good sport and was standing on Draco's shoulders, who was on his knees, and the professor and Harry posed with their backs to each other and their arms crossed across their chests. Ron was photobombing in the background, making silly distorted faces.

“Wow, he looks scary!” Jenna said, pointing another photo on the next page. Snape—who would not cooperate with Hermione's desire to have a photo of all of her professors—was holding Harry by the scruff of his robes and had his wand pointed at him. In the picture, it looked like just another silly pose. Ron had snapped the picture then ran for his life out the door.

Hermione laughed. “That would be the Potions Master. The unfortunate part of this one is that it isn't actually posed. Snape really is threatening Harry here, and Harry ended up with detention. He's not very nice to a lot of the students.”

Hermione looked at the next picture. It was simple. She stood smiling by Snape's desk while he sat behind it, looking up at the camera. No smile. No smirk. His expression—even in the moving photograph—was emotionless. He had been part of the saving of her life. She wanted something to remember him, and after he wouldn't cooperate with Harry's photo, she finally managed to get to him take this one with her.

“He looks a bit like a vampire, like a scary vampire, not a Twilight vampire obviously. Like…like Count Dracula or something.” Jenna observed before clapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh-my-gosh, is he vampire!?”

Hermione gave her a half-smile. “No, he isn't a vampire, he's just creepy sometimes. But deep down…he's good, I promise. Somehow, over the course of the year, we came to an understanding.” She said softly, and realized she actually missed the miserable old bat.

“That's Dumbledore.” Hermione said, pointing to a picture of herself and Harry with the Headmaster. “He's completely brilliant.”

“He looks like a wizard. Look at his beard!” Jenna exclaimed.

Hermione grinned. “Yeah, he does have that look. Anyway, keep going.”

Pages and pages were filled with Hogwarts memories. Ginny. Luna. The Common Room. Hagrid and his hut. Fang. The beautiful lake and even the giant squid. Harry holding the cup from his last match, standing on the podium with the trophy thrust in the air.

Hermione did her best to describe Hogwarts, but it was difficult. Her words couldn't capture the beauty of the village of Hogsmeade covered in snow, like a Christmas card. She couldn't describe the fumes of a perfect potion that caused her hair to grow even bushier as she stirred over her cauldron. The very presence of power one felt in Dumbledore's office, as if he had the answer to everything. Or the severity of McGonagall's glare. The magical atmosphere in the Common Room at the end of the evening, sitting in front of the fire, carefree laughter bubbling from corner to corner. The ginormous twelve Christmas trees Hagrid lugs in every year, and that get decorated so extravagantly that you know magic must be involved. The ceiling of the Great Hall—so majestic it would make the Sistine Chapel look like a child's work. There were no Muggle comparisons to even begin to give justice to Hogwarts—secrets and surprises around every corner.

***

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right,
I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth it was worth all the while

Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) GREEN DAY

***

“You miss it. You miss it a lot.” Jenna observed, her voice soft as she caught the faraway look in Hermione's brown eyes.

Hermione nodded and tried to discretely wipe away the tears that gathered at the corners of her eyes. “I do. It's…amazing doesn't even begin to describe Hogwarts. I hate that I only went for one year.”

“You said something about the Grangers not participating in the Magical world.” She looked down at the photo album in her lap. “Why would anyone turn this down?” She wondered aloud.

“I don't have time to go into too much detail—it would take hours and there is still a lot to talk about. But like normal people, not all wizards are good. There was one that…went very very bad. Grangers already didn't have the best reputation because there was a lot of bad blood centuries ago. Anyway, this wizard...he was evil. Called himself a Dark Lord. He was part of the Granger family. He killed a lot of people. He believed Muggles were an abomination, as well as mixing Muggle and Wizard blood. He was defeated about seventeen years ago. Grangers were already disliked and unofficially exiled. As far as I know, he was the first one in a long time to attend Hogwarts, and no Granger has attended since. Me going to Hogwarts…that was big. A lot of people didn't like it. But they got over it. Realized I wasn't anything like him, or my ancestors.” Hermione explained slowly so her cousin could catch it all.

Jenna nodded. “That sucks.”

Hermione shrugged. “A little bit.”

“What's wrong with Muggles?” She asked, slightly offended.

Hermione laughed. “Some people are just ridiculous. I mean, it's a prejudice, really. It still exists among some even. Blood statuses. See, I'm what they call Muggleborn—it means both of my parents are Muggles. Harry is a Half-Blood—his father is a pureblood but his mother is a Muggleborn like me. If there is any known Muggle ancestry, they are normally known to be half. Ron and Draco—both Purebloods, so their parents and ancestors are all from Wizarding heritage. Some might consider a couple of Wizarding generations enough to be Pureblood, but anyway, that's not important. The Dark Lord, he was a Half-Blood, and wanted to root out all Muggles because they were inferior. He was just a power-hungry control freak, really.” Hermione smiled, trying to put her cousin at ease because the look on her face was one of slight terror.

“Okay.” Jenna replied, still looking a little alarmed.

Hermione reached into her trunk and pulled out her camera. “I have pictures from Cliffenshire that I want to develop in a special potion to make them move. Do you want to help me?”

Jenna's uneasiness vanished and she nodded, eyes wide with excitement to see more magic.

Hermione grinned. “Let's get started then.”

Half an hour later, on small table Hermione had conjured, her cauldron floated over a small flame. Jenna had just dropped the last ingredient into the bubbling potion—the film Hermione had modified her digital camera to use for this very purpose—and various scenes from the summer shimmered on the surface. The ocean. The cliffs. Surfing. Playing video games. Harry's party and his new motorbike.

“Wow.” Jenna breathed, watching the scenes unfold.

“Yeah.” Hermione agreed, watching the magic as well. “Alright, now we will just need to drop these blank photos in there, and they will slowly start to rise up out of the cauldron when they are done. We will just hang them up on these strings to let them dry,” Hermione said, pointing to the several strings she had hung for the photos like clotheslines.

Once the photos began to rise, and her cousin was preoccupied with hanging the moving pictures, marveling at each one, Hermione was ready to lead their talk to her plans for Greece.

“I told you about all of the amazing things—well, not all, there are too many—but I've told you a lot of the amazing things at Hogwarts. But you remember what I said about them being against my family, right?” Hermione said, keeping her tone light.

Only paying Hermione about half of her attention, Jenna nodded.

Hermione sucked in a deep breath. “Well, like anything else, you have to take the bad in with the good. See, there was this bloke…his name was Avery…”

Ten minutes of storytelling about her attacker was met with silence and a look of horror from her cousin. Holding a picture in midair and slack-jawed, she could only stare at Hermione in shock. Finally, she managed to find her voice, “Just what kind of hell school is this!?” She demanded, dropping the picture.

Hermione held out her hands to calm her cousin, ready to pull the same strings she had with Blaise. “So you can understand my anger at this bloke—this bastard?”

Jenna nodded furiously. “I'd chops off his man bits, Hermione. I swear…how could he do that?”

Hermione decided not to continue with telling her Voldemort had returned and that Avery was working for him. It might scare her too much. Instead, she got straight to the point. “And so now, I need a favor, cousin. I need a really really big favor,” she said, bending over to pick up the fallen picture her cousin had dropped—a snapshot of Harry playing on the Xbox, unaware of her behind him with her camera.

***

Hours later, Hermione lay awake in her bed, eyes on the ceiling. Her cousin slept in the next room, no doubt completely exhausted. They had stayed up well into the early morning. In fact, she would be waking soon to start the day. She had a lot to get done, and very little time to do it.

Her conversation with Jenna had gone very much like her conversation with Blaise. More worries. More resistance. Less understanding.

Same answer in the end after too much begging.

She could count on her cousin to cover for her, to help Blaise. She was very unhappy about it, quite pissed actually. On some level, however, she understood Hermione's wishes. She understood Hermione could force her go along with it, but wasn't going to do that. She was asking—asking for trust, asking for understanding with a promise of going on another trip sometime. She understood Hermione wouldn't ask this if it wasn't important.

Hermione sighed. She needed to get some sleep, but it wasn't coming. Finally, she rolled out of bed, grabbed her running pants, and headed for her mother's treadmill. “Damn you Harry Potter.” She grumbled.

***

“Are you sure this is okay?!” Jenna asked, her expression both filled with worry and excitement.

Hermione shrugged. “Honestly, I haven't a clue, which is why you have to be cool.” Hermione reminded her jumpy cousin. Hermione parked her parents' SUV in a parking lot near her destination and then hopped out of the vehicle, Jenna following suit. They walked down the sidewalk and turned the corner to Charming Cross Road. “Okay, I'm not sure how this works. I don't think you'll be able to see it unless I point it out. I know Muggle parents have been to this place before—Harry told me in passing once that he saw a mate of his here with his mum. Now, right there, what do you see?” Hermione asked, pointing to the small pub nestled in the corner.

“The record shop? A book store?” Jenna said, her untrained eyes sliding from the shop on the left of the pub to the one directly to the right of it.

Hermione wasn't sure how this worked. She shook her head. “No, look closer. Between the record store and the bookshop—right there in the corner. Do you see a run-down pub?” She watched as her cousin's blank expression suddenly changed to one of bewilderment.

“Wow. How did I miss it? Um, it looks like an old pub, broken down and empty. Abandoned, I imagine.” She said uneasily.

Hermione smiled. “Perfect. Now look even closer. See a sign that says THE LEAKY CAULDRON?” She asked, stepping closer to the pub she saw perfectly.

Jenna stepped closer as well. “Wait, maybe it isn't abandoned. It doesn't look too bad, I guess. I mean, it's dirty and a little run-down, but I see the sign now and…” She shook her head, as if trying to clear it. “That's weird. I swear it wasn't there. Then it was an abandoned building and now…I mean, it doesn't look too bad.” She looked at Hermione for clarification.

“It is charmed so Muggles don't see it and go in. But when you are forced to see it, you see just a broken down pub. Once it's pointed out what it really is…then I think you can see it. I'm guessing so, anyhow. But c'mon, let's go inside.” Hermione led her cousin into the small establishment. The room was relatively empty this early in the morning. She made a beeline for the back courtyard. Once they were there, she pulled out her wand. “Cousin, please, remember to be cool. I don't know if this is allowed, so it would be best if no one knew…knew what you were.” She whispered, looking over her shoulder to the closed door.

Jenna nodded, eyes wide in anticipation.

Using her wand, Hermione tapped the centermost brick thrice, and marveled again as the brick wall gave way to a large archway leading into Diagon Alley. “Welcome to Diagon Alley, cousin.” She said with a grin, looking over at Jenna's dropped jaw.

The alley was more crowded than before—students and parents bustling about getting last-minute supplies for Hogwarts. Hermione led her cousin through the crowd, enjoying the expression on Jenna's face.

Hermione gave her a quick tour, pointing out shops as they passed by them. Flourish and Blotts. Quality Quidditch Supplies. Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Ollivander's Wand Shop.

“This is completely brilliant!” Jenna said excitedly, spinning around to take it all in.

“We'll be able to stop in a few shops, but let's pick up my order first.” Hermione looked at her watch. “We have to meet Blaise at noon.” Soon, the pair of them found the entrance of Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. Walking up to the counter, Hermione waited for the sales lady to finish up with her customer. Jenna walked around and looked at the various items on the shelves, mostly disgusting potion ingredients.

“Hello, is there something I can help you with, Miss?” A woman in her forties greeted Hermione, her blonde hair pulled back into a long plait that ran down most of her back.

Hermione smiled. “Yes. I put in an owl order. Stella Duncun.” She replied, pulling out her Wizarding money, thankful she had enough and didn't have to do a currency exchange at Gringotts.

“Ah yes, I have it right here.” The woman reached behind the counter and pulled out a large parcel. “Ten bottles of Polyjuice Potion, as well as two bottles of Extended Effects Elixir.” She recounted, ripping open the parcel to show Hermione the items inside. With a satisfied nod from Hermione, the lady tapped her wand and the parcel's wrappings mended immediately.

If the woman had any misgivings or questions about why Hermione would need so much of the potion, she gave nothing away. Instead, she took Hermione's money that included a generous tip for her help, and sent Hermione on her way.

Hermione placed the parcel in her bag, fitting easily with her Undetectable-Extension Charm. “Now where would you like to go?” Hermione asked, looking over at her cousin once they left the apothecary.

“I don't know. I mean, everything just looks so fascinating and there is so much to look—oh-my-gosh, tattoos!” She said, spotting a small tattoo shop. Grabbing Hermione's hand, she dragged her across the alley-way and into the shop.

“Don't even think about it.” Hermione said quietly, giving her cousin a meaningful look.

“Oh, I'm just looking!” Jenna said, brushing Hermione off before turning to the attractive tattoo artist with a coy smile. “Hello, I'm Jenna.” She greeted flirtatiously.

“Jenna. That's a great name. I'm Finlay—my mates call me Fin.” He replied, holding out his hand to shake hers.

“Fin…think I prefer Finlay more.” Jenna said with a smile.

“Then Finlay it is, love. Thinking about a tattoo, are you?” He asked, gesturing to the samples surrounding them.

Jenna giggled. “Maybe. Can you tell me about them?”

Finlay chuckled. “Sure thing, love. Let's see. We have your basic Migraters, Metamorphosis, and Chameleons. Then we get into the Amphibs, Metagraters, Chamorphosis, and the slightly edgier Scarrings. What do you like?”

Another giggled escaped Jenna. “I have no idea what you mean by any of that.”

“Most don't unless they are in the tattoo scene because I've made up all those names. I'm a bit of a Muggle biology nut—my father is a scientist.” He laughed. “How about I show you?” He grabbed her hand and led her deeper into the shop with Hermione quickly following, alarmed. “Now I said your basics are Migraters—pretty self-explanatory there. The tattoo moves. A butterfly's wings flap. A smiley face might change according to mood. Whatever you want. Then the Metamorphosis is exactly as it sounds: the tattoo changes.” He pointed to the paper in front of him where the words morphed from the word LIFE to DEATH. “Metagraters. Mix of the two. It changes and moves around. I've had a girl get doves change into butterflies as they flew around her ankle. Now the Chameleons change color. Amphibs—more commonly known as Back-and-Forth tattoos—change back and forth.” He pointed to a tattoo on his shoulder blade of an angel. With his wand, he tapped it and it changed into a little devil. He winked. “Sometimes the angel doesn't get to come out and I've got to have the devil on both shoulders.” He showed her his other shoulder that had the same little devil.

“Then the Chamorphosis is a mix of the Chameleons and Metamophasis—morphs and changes colors. As for scarring…” He pulled a picture from his collection and showed it to her. A man's last name was written across the top of his back, but instead of a potion and ink, it had been carved into his skin and created an elevated scarring.

“Wow. That's a little mad.” Jenna said, putting to picture down.

Finlay grinned. “So what will it be, love?”

“She's not getting anything.” Hermione interrupted, shaking her head. “We're not interested.”

“Calm down, cousin. Be cool.” Jenna said, using Hermione's own words against her. “So what's the difference between the…Amphrobs or whatever and the morph one? They sound the same to me.”

Finlay shook his head. “Amphibs. The Back-and-Forth tattoo…that's for life. You put that on, and it changes the very make-up of your skin. It's also known as an Impervious tattoo. Nothing can change it. You can get something over it, and switch back and forth, but whichever one you put on with the Impervious Potion…that one will always overshadow the other. The Metamorphosis—it's constantly changing back and forth. Amphibs doesn't change unless…well, I suppose `activated' would be a good word.” He laughed, using air quotes. “Amphibs are much more painful and cannot be removed.”

Jenna nodded in understanding, “And this morph one…I really like the idea of that one.” She began, but Hermione grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“No, Jenna. Remember what we talked about?” She asked slowly.

Jenna sighed and looked back at Finlay wistfully. “But I shouldn't, as cool as it would be. Maybe some other time.”

Finlay winked. “I'm sure I'll see you back in here. They always come back.” He looked over at Hermione. “Maybe you should get inked—might loosen you up a bit.”

Hermione shook her head. “No thank you. Jenna, it's time to go.” She said, towing her cousin away from the attractive bloke she was still grinning at.

“Time to go.” She called softly behind her regretfully. Once they reached the crowded again, Jenna sighed. “He was so cute, Hermione!” She whined.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “A magical tattoo? Really Jenna? You know you can't do that!” She hissed.

Jenna shrugged. “I thought maybe around my ankle would be cool.”

Hermione shook her head. “And never wear shorts again? A swim suit? You have to protect the secret.” She reminded her earnestly.

Jenna nodded. “I know.” She replied in defeat.

“Good. Now we've really got to get going to meet Blaise.” Hermione said, looking at her watch. Turning around to make a beeline for the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione's eyes passed over the crowd without thought until one face made her eyes widen and her breathing catch somewhere in her throat.

***

Harry's physical had gone well. He was in top condition. His passing certification was tucked in his back pocket, ready to be turned into the necessary personnel for him to begin his basic training. He checked the time, and saw that he still had about fifteen more minutes before his mother's lunch break. He headed for the lift that led to her floor.

Once he got to his mother's floor, he walked over to the main desk where a middle-aged brunette sat behind black-rimmed glasses dressed in pale blue robes with a crossed bone and wand splashed across her left breast pocket. “Harry!” She greeted him with a warm smile. “Oh, look how much you've grown! I swear you get taller every time I see you!” She gushed proudly.

Harry grinned in response. “Hello, Mrs. Perdint. How are you?”

“It's Ms. now, and don't you forget that! I'm back on the market there, young lad. And I can't help but notice just how handsome you've become!” She jokingly flirted with a wink.

Harry laughed in response. The woman before him was old enough to be his mother. “I'll keep that in mind, Ms.” He replied, his smile broadening.

The receptionist giggled. “Oh pish-posh! I've already heard that you've got yourself a little girlfriend these days as it is.” She commented, her sparkling eyes telling him she had been filled in quite nicely about Hermione, he was sure.

“You haven't been misinformed then, let me assure you.” Harry responded, vaguely wondering what his mother could have possibly said.

“I hear she's very smart, very pretty—must be to have landed a brilliant catch like yourself. She's quite lucky.”

“Oh, I'm the lucky one—trust me.” Harry said, looking at the older woman with a grin, slightly surprised his mother had complimented Hermione so.

“And why are you so lucky, my son?” His mother's voice floated from behind him. He turned around to see her eyes on a clipboard in front of her, writing furiously before finally looking up.

He reached over and wrapped his arms around her. “To have a mum like you, of course.” He said smoothly.

She returned his hug and placed a kiss of his forehead. “Of course you are, darling.” She turned to address the receptionist. “Lauren, Elsie is going to need checked on in about ten minutes—I've already told Millie. I've sent Robert's blood in for testing—his nasty rash has flared up even worse now that the wanker Rick Strite went behind my back and did exactly what I told him not to do. Botched up half the progressed I've made so far! If you happen to see the healer anywhere, tell him it would be a good idea to go ahead and shove his wand up his ass now, or it will be even worse if I have to do it myself.” She said, irritation tainting her voice.

Lauren laughed in response. “Oh, don't let him get to you, Lily. You know he just needs to feed his ego.”

His mother straightened her lime green robes purposefully. “Yes well, next time that pompous git interferes with one of my cases again, the only thing he will be feeding is himself through a tube for a very, very long time.” Lily said matter-of-factly, tossing her clipboard behind the counter. After taking a deep, calming breath, she turned back to her son, who was wearing a look mixed between apprehension and admiration. “I'm sorry, Son; he just really knows how to get under my skin! Ready for lunch?” She asked, changing her demeanor instantly, though Harry could tell she was still thoroughly brassed off with her fellow colleague.

“Yeah, just one second,” Harry replied, patting down his pockets.

His mother gave him a quizzical look. “What are you looking for?” She asked.

“My wand,” Harry replied, pulling it from his back pocket and shoving in his front one for safe keeping. “With you going around shoving wands up blokes' bums, I thought I might want to keep a better eye on mine. Exit only.” He shivered in discomfort.

Lily rolled her eyes at her son and gave him a small push in the direction of the lift. “Oh, hush you!” She laughed.

Fifteen minutes later, the pair could be found at a small table in the cafeteria, trays of food before them.

“So how did your physical go?” Lily asked, taking a swig of her soda.

Harry shrugged in response before swallowing his food. “As well as I could have hoped, I suppose. Not like you don't have the file sitting on your desk right now or anything.” He called her out coyly.

She gave him a look of astonishment. “I happen to have a large amount of respect for the confidentiality agreement between a patient and healer, as well as the patient's privacy, my son. Don't insult me.”

Harry raised an eyebrow without saying a word.

“However,” his mother continued, “As much as I love my job, I happen to be first and foremost the mother to my son, and I see nothing wrong with taking a glance at his files to ensure everything is alright.” She gave him a guilty smile.

“Of course, Mum. So give me the dirty details then that he might have been holding back—am I dying?” Harry asked, looking concerned.

Lily shook her head. “You are so much like your father. I haven't looked at it yet, but I don't think you should be worried.” She laughed.

Harry nodded. “Good. Can't go dropping at camp, now can I? Got to be in top form to run with the big blokes.”

While his mother's smile remained in place, Harry could almost see her expression immediately harden. He knew how much she hated his career choice. He pretended not to notice her change in demeanor at his words, but an awkward silence settled between the two. Finally, Harry tossed his fork down and let out a sigh. “Mum, look, I know you aren't exactly fond of the idea of me becoming an Auror…but you have to see that it's only logical with…well, with current events.” He insisted. “You can't possibly think it's a bad idea for me to better my fighting skills.”

Lily looked down at her food, and replied in an even voice, “And you can't possibly understand my point of view, Harry.” She sighed and finally, she looked up. Her expression and voice softened as she reached over and ruffled a small hand through his messy midnight hair in a way that only a mother could do. “It's not that I don't want you to better your skills—with what is going on, it is a must and I understand that. I just…even without…without…him in the picture, being an Auror is dangerous. I see them in here all the time—they have their own private ward with assigned beds even. Knowing you are heading down that same road…” She looked deeply into Harry's matching eyes, “It's rough, and not a future any mother would want for her son.”

Listening to his mother's words did not scare Harry—he knew how dangerous his chosen profession could be. However, she did enlighten him to her side of things, and he could better understand her point of view. He never really thought about how while a lot of people knew about the dangers of being an Auror, his mother witnessed the injuries first hand. He reached over and squeezed her hand in understanding. “I never thought about that. And I'm sorry. But I wish you would worry less about me, Mum. I can do this—I want to do this. I want to be able to protect you, and protect Hermione. It's my job.” Harry told her softly.

She shook her head. “No, Son, it's my job to protect you.” Lily corrected him.

“I think the roles changed once I got taller than you, Mum.” Harry laughed. Harry scooted his seat to the end of the table, so that he was sitting beside her and no longer across from her. “It's your job to be my Mum. To fix my scrapes and be in my corner. To worry about whether or not I'm making the right decisions, but supporting me anyway even through my mistakes. To let me make mistakes. And also, it's you job to let me do my job, to let me protect you from anything that I can. Because you're my mum, and I'm not ever going to let anything happen to you.” He said, his voice growing serious.

“Just like you'll always be my little boy—I don't care how much stronger or bigger or smarter you think you are than me. Your life is my life—don't forget that.” Lily replied, squeezing his arm affectionately.

Harry smiled. “I won't. And when did I ever say I was smarter than you?” He asked with a laugh. “Funnier? Yes. I don't ever recall saying smarter though.”

Without warning, his mother chucked a spoonful of her mashed potatoes in his face. “Oh, you think you're funnier than I am now too?” She asked cheekily, the mood effectively lightened.

Harry grinned as he cleaned himself up. “Go ahead, I'll let you win this one.”

Despite neither of them changing their opinions on the others' views concerning Harry's decision to become an Auror, their talk had shed more light and understanding for both of them. After a few minutes of light small talk, Lily asked what Hermione's plans were.

Impressed that his mother was voluntarily acknowledging his girlfriend, Harry responded easily, “Not much, actually. Um, you obviously remember Clarence—well Hermione is going to continue studying with her and helping her out at her library. Help with some brainy stuff with the Order—behind the scenes type of thing. Clarence's idea and I'm glad for it, to be honest. It will give Hermione something to do, but still keep her safe, I think.”

“Oh really? I hadn't realized the two were so close.” Lily replied offhandedly.

“I didn't tell you? Oh yeah, they're super close. She's Hermione's mentor, actually. Took her in, taught Hermione everything she knew before Hogwarts. Studied together almost on the daily. Before Hogwarts, Clarence was her only connection to the Wizarding World.” Harry explained, scooping up a spoonful of food and taking a bite. After a few minutes, Harry noticed his mother hadn't said anything. “Something wrong?” He finally asked.

Lily gave him a tight smile. “Oh no, dear, just…just thinking about an old friend. I…I used to be quite close with Clarence myself.” She disclosed quietly.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I mean, with…with what her husband did I can only imagine how close our families must have been.”

“I've known her…” Lily let out a small laugh, “Well, almost my entire life, actually. I couldn't count the hours I spent in her library. We were close…I've…I've missed her.” She trailed off softly.

Harry listened to his mother's words silently, seeing that she truly did miss the woman. “Maybe you should go see her. I was nervous about officially meeting her, with what happened to her husband and feeling like it was my fault. I didn't know how she would react to me. But she was so nice. She doesn't blame me or anything. What happened between you two exactly? I mean…did she ever say she blamed us?” Harry asked slowly.

Lily shook her head. “No, no she never blamed us. When I said we were close, I mean we were close. Perhaps our relationship was much like the one between Hermione and Clarence. She was the first person to really talk to me like…like I was an adult, and not just a child. Once James came along, she approved of him instantly. She was surprised, but thought he was a good balance for me.” Lily laughed. “We worked in the Order together. All of us very fond of Dumbledore and trusted his judgment—Clarence above anyone and everyone. We fought together. Once we knew he was after you, we went into hiding. Very few knew where we were—she did. Clarence and Eustace were family. Dumbledore told us we could trust them to help us if we needed it. He never doubted her with anything. She was perhaps the closest person to him in his life.” Lily divulged softly. “After…after he came…and Eustace's tragic death…Clarence became a recluse almost. For a very long time, only Dumbledore could get through to her. James and I felt guilty, thought maybe we'd give her space. She didn't respond to my letters. Finally, with trying to raise a family and start my career, too much time passed.” Lily's voice was quiet and she had a faraway look in her almond-shaped eyes.

“I never knew she and Dumbledore were so close.” Harry commented, trying to draw some of the sadness away from his mother. “Hermione never said anything.”

Lily nodded. “No one is closer to Albus Dumbledore than that woman. No one. They grew up together in Godric's Hollow once his family moved there. She was younger than his sister, but still helped his mother care for her. She always had an eye for Dumbledore—no, not romantically.” She explained, seeing Harry raise a suggestive eyebrow. “No, it was more admiration for his abilities. Never scared to bring him down a peg or two either. Call him out if he was being too pompous or whatnot.”

Harry could not think of a single time he had ever seen his former headmaster pompous.

“After the death of his mother, Clarence was devastated. She often helped Kendra in the garden. It was nice for Ariana—Dumbledore's sister—to have a female close to the same age to play with. It…helped. When she went to Hogwarts, despite their age difference, he often looked out for her. Ariana's death was difficult on the whole family, especially Aberforth—his brother. Clarence—still so young—helped them. She had lost a sister when her sister was just a year old. Medicine wasn't nearly as advanced back then. Anyway, Clarence and Dumbledore had an unshakeable bond. He taught her advanced magic, and she kept him grounded when his ego got too inflated. As they grew older, their bond only became stronger. She had two men in her life: Eustace, her soul mate; and Albus, her best and dearest friend. Luckily, the two blokes got along for the most part. Eustace was very fond of Albus and vice versa.” Lily finished reminiscing, almost forgetting she was talking to her son.

Harry shook his head. “I never knew.” He had known Dumbledore had had lost both his mother and sister when he was young, but that was all.

Lily nodded. “Fiercely loyal to Dumbledore. Protects his secrets. Fond of his brother as well—has always tried to defuse the tension between the two. She is a Dumbledore in her own right, with what she's given to that family. See, she didn't have much of a family of her own. Alcoholic mother. Father left them. Escaping to the Dumbledores' every day had helped her just as much as it helped them.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “What secrets does she protect?” He blurted out, immediately feeling nosy.

“I don't know. And I don't think I'd want to know, really. Consider what a man like Albus Dumbledore could have gone through his in long life; imagine any secrets he may be harboring…I think digging too much might lead to some scary things.” His mother confessed, thinking back on her former headmaster.

Listening to his mother's tales of this man he had known for so many years, he was inclined to agree with her. With that sort of power, who knew what sort of skeletons he kept in his closet.

***

Hermione barely caught sight of him, hidden in the shadows as he swiftly walked farther down a small path that lead to the neighboring alley, Knockturn Alley by the looks of a wooden arrow pointing in the direction of his passage. She stopped in her tracks and took a closer look. Her mind was surely playing tricks on her.

But no, there he was. Except everything about his was different. His normal clean-cut dark blond hair was gone and replaced with an untidy and longer mess on top of his head, unkempt and not styled. His skin was paler than she remembered. He still had his tall, lean frame, but he looked…different. He looked nervous. And skinny. Almost sickly. Or maybe he had always looked like that. No, that wasn't right. He was known to be attractive, confident, stylish even. However, she hadn't seen him like that in awhile. Maybe. She wasn't sure, and Hermione suddenly realized how much time she had wasted just thinking about how different his appearance was, and he was no longer in her line of sight.

“Hermione? Something wrong?” Jenna's voice shook her from her thoughts.

Damn. Hermione forgot her cousin was right here with her. What could she do? Did she want to do anything to begin with? Despite the stories she had told her cousin and Blaise, Hermione had no intention of tracking down her attacker. Avery was not on her list at the moment. It had been the lie needed to gain their cooperation. Nothing more. However, being presented with his presence, she knew it could help with her real objective.

But she couldn't tail him with her cousin. She wouldn't put her cousin in any compromising situation. Hermione bit her lip, feeling torn. She realized Jenna was still looking at her, waiting for an explanation at Hermione's odd behavior. “I'm fine, just saw a friend of mine. I…”Making a decision without thinking it through, Hermione suddenly said, “I need to go talk to them about something. It's really important, but I need to go alone. With you being…it's just not a good idea for you to tag along, just in case because I don't know what…the policy is, right?” She said meaningfully, playing on the Muggle card. “Can you wait in this shop so I know where to find you?” Hermione asked, pointing to the nearest shop, which happened to be the place where she had gotten Crookshanks.

Jenna nodded. “Yeah, yeah that's fine.” She replied, understanding her cousin's indirect mention of her Muggle status. Without another word, Hermione watched her cousin disappear inside the shop. The second her cousin was inside, Hermione turned around and pushed through the crowd as fast as she could until she met the passage into Knockturn Alley. Pulling her hood up, Hermione cast one last look behind her before rushing off into this new place.

It was a lot different than Diagon Alley. Everything was gray and black. Old and wasting away. It had no charm, but rather an eerie air to it. It didn't bustle with life, but rather had a few shady inhabitants skirting along the stone walls, casting suspicious looks behind themselves guiltily. It was clearly a space no one wanted to be found. Hermione looked down at her pink zip up hoody, realizing just how much she stood out. With a wave of her wand, it turned black—better to blend in to her surroundings. The dark gray overcast of the sky made it appear much later in the day. Stuffing her hands in her pockets and pulling her hood even further up to hide her face the best she could, Hermione quickly crossed the small street and searched for Avery.

Rain suddenly started from somewhere above, surprising Hermione. She tried to side step puddles while searching inside the windows of shops, which was difficult because it seemed most shops had their windows blocked out, as if they didn't want anyone to see what was going on inside. The door to Borgin and Burkes suddenly opened, and Hermione recognized the tall frame and long blond hair of Lucius Malfoy exiting the shop, the cloaked figure of Avery trailing behind. She darted behind the nearest rubbish bin, overflowing with trash and giving off such a foul odor that Hermione almost got sick right on the spot. The two were standing just a few feet from her now, talking in hushed tones. Now that she was closer, Hermione noticed her earlier suspicions were correct. Avery most certainly looked weary and pale. Not at all the boy that had tried to convince her of the darkness she held inside. She felt something crawl suddenly across her hand that was on the stone street, and let out a high-pitched shriek as she shook off two cockroaches from her fingers. She realized there were dozens crawling all over the rubbish bin beside her. They were huge and completely unafraid by her presence. She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. She inched away, slowly. Her screech had already caused the two blokes in front of her to stop and look up.

“I'll come back next week and check on it, Malfoy. Don't worry. You know he isn't going to say anything—Borgin knows exactly who he's dealing with.” Hermione heard Avery assure Malfoy, barely catching the words.

“I'm not the least bit worried about the dim-witted shopkeeper—we've been doing business for years. My only concern is getting the job done, and you handling it with the …discretion it requires. You know He won't be pleased if you mess up again.” Malfoy warned.

Hermione watched at Avery's pale cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I'm well-aware of his expectations, Malfoy.” He spat, his haughty attitude shining through for just a second.

“Then we have nothing to worry about.” Malfoy's lip curled.

“We don't. Now let's get out of here before someone sees us. I can't exactly strut down the street at the moment, now can I?” Avery remarked.

Hermione watched Malfoy reply, but his voice was drowned out by a sudden clap of thunder from somewhere overhead.

With another clap, the two Disapparated on the spot.

Hermione stayed in her hiding spot for another few beats, ensuring she was in fact alone. She slowly eased up and walked over to the shop door. Biting her lip and knowing it wasn't a good idea, Hermione eased inside anyway.

It was dimly-lit and dirty. Glass cases filled the shop, each containing something different. A shriveled hand on a purple cushion. A glass eye. A blood-stained deck of cards. Evil masks leered at her from the walls and hung from the ceiling. Vials filled with dangerous-looking potions littered the shelves. Human bones littered the counter. Rusty, spiked instruments hung on from wires on the ceiling. A long ax was mounted on the wall, encrusted in blood. A small sign beside the ax told her it had beheaded more than three hundred Muggles. Hermione felt her stomach turn as she looked at the blade in horror.

“What do you want?” A voice asked, causing her to jump. A small man with greasy hair slicked back was looking her with small, beady eyes with an accusatory expression.

“I-I…” Hermione didn't know what to say, or what she was doing. She continued to stare at the ax in horror.

“Are you buying anything?” The man asked shrewdly.

Hermione shook her head, eyes wide.

“Are you selling?” His voice unfriendly and aggravated as ever.

Hermione shook her head again, still at a loss.

“Then out! Get out! I'm not running a charity house here. Get out!” He snapped, his bony finger pointed at the door.

Before he could say another word, Hermione scrambled from the shop, tripping over her own feet. Once outside, she made it about three steps before getting sick right there beside the small shop.

Hermione regained her composure, leaning against the stone wall. After a few minutes, she decided she was okay enough to go back to Diagon Alley. She couldn't get out of here fast enough. In the rain, uncaring of how suspicious she might have looked, she sprinted down the uneven street, through the puddles and mud. Before she knew it, she spotted the sunny entrance to her destination at the end of a shadowed passage.

Only when she was back in the safety of Diagon Alley did Hermione stop. She allowed herself a few minutes to calm down before heading over to find her cousin.

She had no idea what she had witnessed. The words exchanged between Avery and Malfoy meant nothing to her. Trying to follow them now would be impossible. She must wait until Harry was gone—that was important. Once he was at a safe distance, then she could go ahead with her plan. While she didn't understand what was going on or what the two men were talking about, she had found one possible shred of positive information—by the sound of it, Avery would be returning to Borgin and Burkes to check on something. He may lead her where she needed to go.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione knew her cousin must have noticed her distraction. Thankfully, Jenna kept quiet about it and instead tried to soak in as much as she could of Diagon Alley before she had to leave. They made it out and to her parent's SUV without incident. The trip to the mall was a short one, and Blaise was already there, waiting on them.

Pushing the events from Knockturn Alley from her mind, Hermione focused on the task at hand: getting Blaise and Jenna comfortable with each other. Luckily, Jenna had the sort of bubbly personality that people liked, and was easy to get along with. Blaise was more drawn in, but still rather easy-going.

“So what story are you spinning for your parents, then?” Hermione asked with a sigh, fiddling with her parents' credit card as they waited outside the dressing room for her cousin.

Taking a sip of her coffee, Blaise raised her eyebrows inquisitively. “What do you mean?” She asked, settling back in her chair.

Hermione shrugged in response, “Well, something tells me they might notice if their daughter is gone for a week and a half. Just wondering where you told them you were going.” She replied with a sardonic smile.

Blaise gave Hermione a half-smile. “To their knowledge, I will be vacationing in Greece as one Hermione Granger, while the real formerly mentioned is…handling something.” Her voice was calm, as if she were merely noting the weather.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up and she choked on her water. “Really? You just told them the truth? And they're okay with that?” She asked, both surprised and skeptical.

Blaise laughed. “Pretty much. I'm an adult, not like they can really stop me. They know if I'm doing it, it wmust be important. As far as telling them the truth of the matter…we're a very tight family. Very open, and very honest. I didn't tell them the specifics—I figured you wouldn't want them to know your business—but they know I'm going in place of you because you have something you need to take care of. They aren't happy about you lying to your family, but they know that isn't any of their business either.”

Hermione stared at Blaise in amazement. She couldn't fathom such honesty in a family like that. And she thought she had a rather honest relationship with her parents—minus the escaping to Hogwarts and going on vacation alone with Harry anyway. But this…was incredible. “Wow. I…I don't even know what to say to that.”

Blaise shrugged. “I'm not surprised. Your response is expected, you know, considering.” She said nonchalantly.

“Considering what?” Hermione asked, getting defensive now.

“Considering how deceitful of a person you are.” Blaise finished, unabashed by Hermione's tone.

Blaise may as well have struck Hermione across the face with her words. “Excuse me? Who are you to judge me on what kind of person I am?” Hermione ask, defensiveness turned into outright anger.

Still brazen, Blaise met Hermione's glare easily. “I'm not judging. I'm simply noting. You've already lied to me. You're lying to Potter, your parents. Something tells me deceit just might be in your forte, is all.

Hermione snorted with derision. “Getting a character evaluation by a Slytherin seems a little ironic. Perhaps you should have been a Hufflepuff—all this talk of honesty and such.” Hermione fired back, wanting to get under the girl's skin as much as she was getting under hers. “Now I'm a little worried you might have a change of heart and not be able to follow through on the plan.”

It was Blaise's turn to laugh. “I possess plenty Slytherin qualities—have no qualms about that. I think I can handle it.”

Cattiness present in her voice, Hermione asked quietly, “Are you sure about that?”

Blaise held her accusatory glare for several seconds with her own before finally dropping her gaze with a sigh. “I don't see why you are freaking out. I mean, there's nothing wrong with honesty, Hermione. Honesty and loyalty are two of the most important character traits someone can have. Just how I was raised. We don't trust easy, but if you lie to us…well, it pretty well ruins your chances. You lied to me once, but I let it slide. You had good reason to, I suppose. But you came clean, and I can respect that. Every girl is entitled to have a secret or two, and you were just trying to protect yours.” She said, alluding to her own secret about almost getting raped. “And I know it seems almost too simple, to just tell the truth, and maybe a little harsh to expect it from everyone else, but…I dunno, it just seems easiest, you know?” Blaise asked, looking meaningfully at Hermione, trying to make her understand what sort of value she put on this type of thing.

It did seem simple. And harsh. And easy. Hermione thought about the lies she was holding over Blaise at this very moment. Lies Blaise had no idea about. Lies about where she was going, what she was doing. She told Blaise what she knew Blaise would cooperate with.

In that very second, Hermione considered telling Blaise the truth. Maybe, she would still go along. Maybe she would still be okay with everything.

But maybe she wouldn't.

Instead, she internally owned up to exactly what Blaise was saying because she knew it to be true—she was being deceitful. A true Slytherin underneath. Because whatever it was, it wasn't simple. It wasn't easy. And the harsh reality was, Hermione was willing to put whatever she had to on the line to keep her secrets to herself.

With all these thoughts swimming in her mind, Hermione suddenly put up a phony smile. “I'm sorry. And you're right, to have that sort of honesty with your parents. I like that. I wish I had that sort of honest relationship with my parents too.” Her grin was as fake as her lies, but Hermione was quickly realizing she didn't care. Instead, she buried her guilt with good intentions.

***

My jeans, your shoes, we'll throw away everything we've used.
But there's still your worried mouth
To match your worried eyes.
The only two things left to find.

Drive drive drive drive,
I don't want to get caught.
We'll say, we'll say we're innocent.
And there is enough to prove we're not.
They will believe anything.
I'm packing all my clothes and never going to go home again.
There isn't one thing we forgot.
You'll see, we'll get away with this.

“Left With Alibis And Lying Eyes” EMERY

***

Burying her guilt and forcing her lies was easier when she was alone, Hermione realized. Or staring into Blaise's cold, judging eyes. Also, in her cousin's carefree presence.

With Harry, however, it was difficult. In her room alone, with the clock telling her it was past one in the morning as they cuddled on her bed, she found that only the darkness kept her secrets hidden. Surely if Harry looked into her face, he would see her plans. Just talking to him had her on edge. He was so close to leaving. Just one step closer to being in the clear.

So she kept quiet, for the most part. She urged Harry to talk about what he had been up to, what he was expecting at camp. No detail was too small. He would see the curious side of her, while she kept her oath-breaking plans hidden.

She was grateful when his hands began to wander as his mouth grew tired of talking. He had gone from rubbing her back under her shirt to caressing her stomach, then rose to her breasts. This, she knew. This, she didn't have to fight the urge of letting her lies slip. Her guilt could say buried as his lips roamed the back of her neck and his hands began to peel her shirt up higher and higher.

Guilt, that is, for her lies. Not the guilt for having sex with her parents sleeping just below her in their bedroom, unsuspecting of her late-night visitor.

Sighing, she pushed his hand away. “Harry, my parents are right downstairs.” She whined.

“We can use a Silencing Charm. No one will know anything.” He said suggestively, reaching for her.

“I will know. And I feel…disrespectful.” She admitted, sitting up.

Harry sat up too, and gave her a small half-smile. “Why did I have to pick a girlfriend with integrity?” He laughed before pulling her into a hug. “I'm just kidding, babe. I understand…we'll Apparate to my house—I don't care that my parents are home.” He said with a straight face.

Hermione pushed him back against her pillows. “Honestly! You are such a…a…a buttmunch sometimes!”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her name-calling. “A buttmunch?”

Hermione shrugged. “I stand by my words. Now come on.” She said, grabbing a few pillows and her thick comforter. “Make yourself useful and carry these, yeah?” Hermione asked, tossing two comforters in his arms.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked, blindly following Hermione's lead.

“Outside.” Hermione replied, tiptoeing down the stairs.

“Getting closer with nature—I like it.” Harry whispered back with a chuckle.

A few minutes later, Harry was following her up a small ladder that led to a childhood tree house in Hermione's backyard. The space was cramped, to say the least. The full moon pouring into the space was their only light. Hermione, with Harry's help, managed to spread out the thicker blanket on the floor of the tree house, with the pillows on one side.

“And what are we going to do now?” Harry asked, looking around Hermione's childhood spot. He was on his knees, as it was impossible to stand up.

Hermione shrugged. “I'm sure we'll think of something.”

Harry grinned and crawled closer to her. “You have no notions that tainting your childhood playhouse with sex is wrong or anything, do you?” He asked, his hand curling around the back of her neck.

Hermione shook her head. “I'm not a child anymore. Now, this space is just…space. Empty, cold space begging to be of some use.” She winked.

“I've got use for it.” Harry whispered, covering her mouth with his. With limited space to move, Harry automatically pushed her down against the pillows, her legs sprawled on either side of his hips. Deeping the kiss, he plunged his tongue in her mouth, tangling it with hers. Hermione moaned into their kiss and pulled him closer.

Reaching down, Harry pulled away from her mouth and raised her shirt up and over her head. His quickly followed. Staring at her in the moonlight, bleaching her skin white, he smiled. “You're so beautiful.”

Impatient, Hermione nodded and reach for the button on his jeans. “Yeah, yeah—I'm bleeding gorgeous. Now take your trousers off!”

“Yes ma'am. Can't argue with a woman that knows what she wants.” Harry replied, quickly divesting himself of his jeans while she pulled off her pajama pants.

***

Some while later, sated and slightly sweaty, Hermione had created a fire in a jar, which gave them a little more light. Lying on his stomach, he looked around the small sanctuary. A small lap table sat in the corner, white sheets of paper with various art supplies in a small cabinet. A few Barbies were put away in a small shelf along with other toys. A miniature china tea party set. A jump rope. Pictures hung on the walls, obviously childhood drawings. “I like your art.” Harry said with a chuckle, taking the nearest picture from the wall for a closer look. It was a stick figure of a girl with a blue dress drawn on her body with brown hair and brown eyes. A sun was drawn in the corner and a blue sky was over head the lone girl in a grassy plane, a few flowers cropping up around her. “Could have drawn some company, or maybe a dog or something.” He laughed.

Hermione took the drawing from him and smiled at it wistfully. Company would have been a lie. She didn't have friends as a child, not really. Half of the people made fun of her, some only talked to her so she would do their homework for them. Others didn't really dislike her, but she was too shy to approach anyone. In response to Harry's comment, she shrugged. “I'm surrounded by friends and animals—they're all just imaginary.” She winked, trying to make a joke of the humiliating situation.

Harry immediately felt horrible. He reached over and grabbed the box of crayons. Old and obviously used, but still in great condition. He wasn't surprised. Taking the drawing back, he used a peach-colored crayon to drawn a figure beside Hermione, arm extended so they were holding hands. He drew in blue jeans and a red shirt with a dark yellow `G' on the chest. Harry added messy black hair, green dots for eyes, and a red smile. Grinning at his handiwork, he showed it to Hermione. “There. Best mates since our childhood days.” He laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes as he pinned the drawing back up before he pulled her close to him.

Harry played with the ends of her hair while her head was on his chest. “I love you.” She whispered softly.

In response, Harry pulled her closer to him. “I love you, too.”

It was quiet for several moments before Harry broke the silence.

“I'm nervous.” He admitted. He had tried to appear confident and collect about camp, but in reality, he was terrified he would fail. Harry had tried to keep busy so he wouldn't think about it—train harder so he wouldn't have time to even consider failing.

But with leaving just on the horizon, failing is all he thought about.

“I know.” Hermione responded, not even lifting her head.

He didn't really want to talk about it; he just wanted to admit it so someone knew how he was feeling inside. He loved that Hermione got that. Loved that he could admit it to her.

“I love you.” He repeated, kissing the top of her mess of hair. “So much.”

***

Lookin back laughin
Cause they called us crazy

We were young, we were wild, we were restless
Had to go, had to fly, had to get away
Took a chance on that feelin, baby

We were lovin blind, borderline reckless
We were livin for the minute we were spinnin in
Maybe we were a lot of things
But we weren't crazy

“We Weren't Crazy” JOSH GRACIN

So what did you think? Please review!!!! Thanks!

*~Archie~*

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Hey everyone. Here's the new chapter. I'm guessing there will be another 3 chapters to this one maybe. I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. This one has been done for awhile, I just haven't had time to edit it. The title (kinda) comes from the movie The Road to El Dorado. Awesome movie!

Sorry for any typos. I just got a new laptop, and it has a different style keyboard than my last one, so it's taking some getting used to. Also, I'll reply to reviews sometime in the next few days.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Separate Trails We Blaze

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naïve
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me
Inside of me, inside of me

“Superman” FIVE FOR FIGHTING

***

“Potter!”

Harry whipped around at the sound of his name being called from somewhere behind him. A tall, good-looking bloke with pale skin and brown hair was striding purposely towards him. “Diggory!” Harry greeted back, shaking his outstretched hand. “I didn't expect to see to see you here--last I heard you were playing for Puddlemere.”

Cedric Diggory, an old classmate from Hogwarts, laughed. “Yeah, that didn't last too long. I, uh, was a little too confident in my talent. Turns out, I wasn't nearly as good as I thought I was.” He chuckled humbly, clearly over his failure.

Harry laughed in response, not sure what to say to that. “That's not how I remember it.” He finally said, hoping to make lad feel better, as Harry had played and beat him on numerous occasions.

Cedric shrugged it off. “I figured that's where you would be though, to be honest.” He commented with a grin. “Off living the Quidditch star dream.”

Harry shook his head. “Nah, thought I'd keep it as a passion rather than an obligation.”

The old Hufflepuff Seeker nodded in understanding. “So, Auror training then—it's a good career choice. What made you decide on that?” He asked conversationally.

“Seemed like a good choice at the time,” Harry laughed. “You?” He fired back.

With a chuckle, Cedric replied, “Seemed like a good choice at the time.” He repeated back. “It's my second year, actually. Didn't quite make the cut last year.” He admitted, a little rueful.

“Oh, well…that's unfortunate. I'm sure you'll do better now that you know a little more about what to expect. Gives you a big of an edge, yeah?” Harry offered, feeling a little awkward at Cedric's honest admission.

“I hope so. I wasn't near where I needed to be last year.” Cedric said with a renewed enthusiasm. “Have you been preparing?” He asked with a genuine grin.

Harry laughed in response. Not wanting to sound cocky because for all he knew, he could be way behind everyone else, he gave a shrug. “I've been trying. I guess we'll see where it gets me. Any advice for the new bloke? Any first-timer hazing I should be watching out for or anything?” Harry joked.

It was Cedric's turn to laugh. “Yeah, here's a pointer—don't so much as try to outshine everyone else as much as help lead your whole team to victory. You've really got to be a team player and look out for everyone, you know?” He mentored.

Confused, Harry raised an eyebrow. “Team? What team?” He asked, curious about this new adventure he was about to embark on.

“We get split up into two teams, and we'll face off in a bunch of challenges and such over the next two weeks, both as teams and as individuals.” The old Hufflepuff briefly explained.

Harry nodded in understanding, not quite expecting a games type thing, though it did make sense. “Okay, that sounds kind of cool. How do we get sorted into teams?”

“Well, first we spend the day conditioning, pretty well showing the camp captains our talents. They'll pick back and forth, based on what they'd seen.” Cedric told him as two more people walked into the room the group was meeting in.

Harry was about to asked what sort of conditioning they were going to be going through when a girl addressed the group milling around the room: “Attention up front, please.” She called loudly, standing purposely before the now silent group. She gave them a tight smile. “I'm Sonia and this is Luke. We will be your boot camp captains.” She said, pointing to her companion standing to her left.

The first thing Harry noticed about the pair of them was that they were both in incredible shape. Suddenly, he felt insecure about his own level of fitness—something he had been rather confident in, especially the last few months. The girl was short with dark hair pulled back into a long plait down to the middle of her back. She had a slim figure with thick, muscled legs in her spandex trousers. He could tell her body was probably every bit as firm as it looked without a soft, pudgy spot anywhere on her. The man beside her—Luke, he was called—was the same. He was tall, with dirty blond hair and tanned skin. He had a lean frame, with long, defined muscles along his arms and legs. Through his tight shirt, Harry could see the defines of a perfect six-pack torso. Unconsciously, Harry slipped a hand over his own abdominals that paled so pathetically in comparison that he may as well have been standing there in the body of his Uncle Vernon.

Sonia told them they would be taking portkeys to the camp. “Five to a portkey.” She called, gesturing towards the five large hoops lying on the table at the front of the room. “One will have four.”

All too quickly, they were scrambling forward to latch on to a portkey. Harry shared one with Cedric, as well as three other blokes he didn't know. He felt a tug somewhere below his navel before feeling the familiar rush of being lifted from the ground as his hand held tightly to the hoop. He barely managed to remain upright once the ground was stable beneath his feet.

“Alright there, mate?” Cedric asked, clapping him on the back.

“Yeah, I bloody hate traveling by portkey—” Harry began to reply, but the ground suddenly started shaking again violently, and out of nowhere, Stunning Spells rained down on the group of newcomers. Not sure what was going on, Harry pulled out his wand while ducking, as everyone else also scrambled about. “Protego!” He yelled, casting a Shield Charm around himself as he was engulfed in a transparent, blue light. Taking a look around now that he was safe from the attack, he noticed the red beams of light from the Stunning Spells were coming from somewhere overhead and out of sight. Had the camp been under siege? The body count on the ground was rising. Quickly, Harry rushed around, circling the group and shouting, “Protego Totalum!” As he created a protective dome around the small area of the group, he watched the red beams deflect away from them. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to hold it, with the onslaught of multiple attacks, but he had to try. The others were trying to gain their bearings and not trip over those that had been Stunned. Suddenly, Harry felt the attack on them cease immediately.

“That will be enough, Potter!” He heard a muffled voice on the verge of being irate call to him. Standing in front of him, just on the other side of his barrier and unable to break through, was Sonia. He released his shield at once.

Scowl-faced and angry, the shorter woman stood toe-to-toe with him. “I want to thank you for ruining the first training exercise—a test to see how each of you react to a spontaneous attack.” She looked around at fallen bodies, most of which now were being revived and stirring feebly with confusion on their faces. It didn't take long for everyone to realize what had happened.

Harry instantly felt stupid. “Oh! I'm sorry. I thought…” He felt like admitting to thinking it might have been a Death Eater attack would have make him look perhaps even more foolish, so he finished lamely saying, “Er…I dunno…just instinct I guess.” He felt his face redden.

“Or perhaps a natural instinct to play the hero and show off, making everyone else look weak in comparison.” She stated, loud enough for everyone to hear, possibly aiming to rile immediate dislike among the group for the glory-seeker that had made them look incompetent.

Irritated, Harry found the words leave his mouth before he had a chance to stop himself, “A natural instinct to protect others—I thought that's what this business was all about after all.”

His sardonic comment caused Sonia to raise an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone needs an attitude adjustment. You can take your natural instincts,” She told him menacingly, “And apply them to kitchen detail tonight, and every night for the rest of the two weeks. And because you like to protect others so much, you'll be handling that alone. I will not tolerate disrespect, Potter, and believe me when I say I will make your time here miserable.”

Anger bubbling inside, Harry had to bite back another sarcastic retort.

After another glare, she addressed everyone else, “Two rows. Now.” She snapped, walking away from Harry.

Luke stopped in front of Harry and had to stifle a laugh, “Way to rile her up within your first half-hour, mate.” He clapped Harry on his shoulder. “I think that might be a record.” He grinned at Harry once more before he too walked away.

Harry heard a chuckle and looked over to see Cedric had fallen into place beside him.

Fuming from the blindside, he hissed, “You could have given me a heads up, you know!”

Cedric shrugged. “They didn't do that last year. First surprise attack was at three in the morning on our first night. Welcome to training camp.” He laughed.

***

“And to what do I owe this pleasure, Miss Granger?” Professor Dumbledore asked, peering at Hermione through his half-mooned spectacles as Hermione sat across from him in his office.

“Hello, Headmaster. Thank you for meeting with me.” Hermione said, smiling politely.

Dumbledore bowed his head in acknowledgement. “No trouble. I just hope everything is alright?” He asked, looking concerned.

Hermione nodded. “Oh, yeah nothing is wrong or anything. I just had a few questions, is all.” She quickly assured him. “You see, my family and I are planning on going to Greece in a few days, and I just wanted to make sure it would be a safe time for traveling.” Hermione explain briefly.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. “Of course, I can see your concern.” He said, steepling his fingertips together in front of him. “I see no qualms with your vacation plans, Miss Granger. If you wish, I could send someone to check on you and your family periodically?” He offered.

Hermione smiled, but politely shook her head. “No, that won't be necessary. I didn't think it would be a problem; I just wanted to double check.” She admitted guiltily.

“I understand, Miss Granger.” The old man said with a nod. After a short pause, he continued intuitively. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Hermione let out a sigh. “Actually…yes, there's more…something...something I thought you ought to know. I think Harry is planning on asking you about it, but I really don't want to take any chances here. He hasn't said anything to me about it—I found out by accident.” Hermione confessed. I…I just think it is important, I guess.”

Dumbledore nodded for her to continue. “What is it?”

Hermione told him everything she could remember reading in Harry's dream journal. She told him about his scar hurting, about the different quality of Harry's visions and his own predictions about it all. She mentioned her concerns that he was taking this burden on himself alone. For twenty minutes, the headmaster sat mostly in silence, listening to Hermione's distress. Finally, she ended it with the heavy question, “What does all this mean?”

Dumbledore sighed heavily and cleared his throat. “The scar on his forehead, this link between Harry and Voldemort, has developed even more—especially since his return. I am inclined to agree with his theory that sometimes these images are meant to be put in his head—real or fake—they are still essentially planted in his mind. They are clear and meticulously detailed. The other, more murky images…possibly just the link taking on a life of its own.” The older man guessed.

“And do you think this…this link works both ways? That he can get information from Harry's mind? Like how he knew we would be at the Quidditch match?” Hermione pressed, eager for any insight the man could share with her.

After a few beats of silence, Dumbledore responded solemn-faced, “I think it would be foolish to think otherwise. This connection is a delicate two-way street, I believe.”

Hermione nodded, “And his secret weapon? What do you make of that? He wouldn't tell Snape!” She reminded him.

“Professor Snape,” He automatically corrected. “We will figure it out, Hermione. We just have to work together on this. I will do my best to convince Harry of that, I assure you. No one is in this alone.” Dumbledore promised meaningfully.

“I feel…useless.” Hermione admitted. “I've been on vacation, I'm going on vacation again. I…I need something to do, professor. I need a way to help.” Hermione half-pleaded. “I feel like I haven't contributed anything, anything at all. I mean, I have no idea what we are even doing on the Voldemort front—actually, I guess I should say I don't know what the Order is doing, seeing as I'm not doing anything.” Hermione spat bitterly.

“Right now, you can help by keeping yourself and your family safe, Hermione.” He told her gently. “I know waiting around can be frustrating, but we must take cautious steps to ensure no one gets hurt.” He explained softly. “The last thing we want to do is to battle Voldemort unprepared. I will not risk lives because we act out of haste and are ill-equipped. Your time will come. The best thing you can do now is keep you head down. The rash actions at the Quidditch match…” he trailed off, a slight accusary tone in his voice. He shook he head slowly. “We cannot have that. Our moves must be precise. Calculated. Rashness…it gets people killed, Hermione. You and Harry will do well to remember that.”

The accusation in his words made Hermione feel worse than Mrs. Potter's ever had. Guilt-ridden and shame-faced, Hermione could only nod in reply.

“Go to Greece—be safe. When you comeback, we will talk again. Clarence told me you would be helping her in her library. There are several ways to contribute. I cannot disclose every single mission and detail, but for the most part, you can be as active as you would like in the Order once you return.” The old man said, a small sad smile in place.

After a few beats of silence, she finally nodded in defeat. Her return would be met with wasting away in the dark corners of a dusty library, putting away books by the sound of it. It also sounded as if at the moment, the Order wasn't really doing a whole lot either. Hopefully, in the next two weeks, she would remedy that. “I…I've been trying—well, I've been researching Voldemort, to see what I could find. But…well, I can't find out much that isn't already widely known—pretty well nothing about his past before, well, everything, you know? I thought maybe, if we knew more about his past, we might know more about what to expect or maybe put some reason behind his actions or…or something.” Hermione insisted.

“A lot of Voldemort's past pre-his-attempt-to-take-over is not widely known. I have been able to put different pieces of the puzzle together over the course of several long years—some fact, some purely educated guesses. I agree, it is a good tactic to know anything and everything about your enemy. Even the smallest details may put one at an advantage. Maybe it will help understand actions. Character. Rhyme and reason. Maybe some details are pointless. But I have searched, far and wide, to collect everything I could concerning Voldemort—just in case.” Dumbledore admitted with a sad smile.

Hermione sat waiting for him to elaborate, when he didn't, she pressed further. “Where…or who…his parents, I mean. Were they…like were they the same as him? Did you know them?” She asked, curious.

Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold pocket watch. “I suppose I have a little time to divulge some details concerning the tale of Tom Riddle.” He said with a humorous tone, eyeing Hermione with a small smile. “That is, if you have the time, Miss Granger?” He asked, turning said pocket watch around for her to see its face.

Hermione had to lean forward to make sure she was seeing it right. Instead of a normal face, the device had twelve hands and in place of numbers, little planets moved around its edges. She had no idea how to read it, or even if it told the time at all. She looked up at Dumbledore, knowing he knew the watch would befuddle her. She grinned. “Looks like I have plenty of time.” Hermione responded cheekily.

***

A few days at boot camp, and Harry was quickly realizing he had not been as prepared as he would have liked.

It was difficult.

He had been chosen to be on Luke Hale's team, which he had been relieved about. Sonia did not care for him.

At all.

Her promise to make him miserable was one she was adamant about following through on. His first night, he had indeed been on kitchen detail. Alone. After conditioning all day and cleaning the kitchen for two hours that night, by the time Harry's head hit his pillow, he had fallen asleep almost instantly.

The next morning, he had been met with extreme physical training (or PT as it was commonly referred to at camp), Sonia had commented on Harry's “perfect push-up posture.” It had been so perfect, in fact, that she had him demonstrate it in front of the entire group.

For the full two hours of their calisthenics.

Every once in a while, she would say, “Up-Down!” in his direction. With shaking arms, he would have to raise his body up to lock his arms, and then drop back down in a frozen push-up stance. Stubbornly, Harry had held his position, despite that he thought he was going to die right then and there. On his final push-up, his arms had given out half-way up and he had dropped. Bitch.

He had gotten his revenge, however, later on that day when he had blown her best runner out of the water in a cross-country foot race challenge. His smug smirk had earned him a second night of kitchen detail alone.

Boot camp wasn't all bad, however. Harry liked his teammates. Cedric was also on Luke's team, as well as was Harry's bunk mate. Luke, his captain, was pretty awesome. He was laid back and funny, and spent most of his time trying to build his team up with positivity rather than discipline.

They were always busy. Physical challenges. Spellwork tests. Target practices. Problem-solving. They were only a few days in, and Harry could already see they would be all over the place with their training.

***

Hermione's chat with Dumbledore had lasted until lunch time. By the time she left his office, she had gained more insight than she had anticipated. Before returning home, she had one more stop as she made her way down to the Dungeons.

She knocked on the door leading to Snape's classroom. It creaked open slowly, and Hermione saw the Potions Master sitting at his desk, scrawling on a scroll of parchment. Didn't he ever do anything other than grade?

“What do you want?” He asked, not bothering to look up.

Hermione smiled. “Hello to you too, Professor.” She greeted brazenly.

Snape looked up, no doubt surprised by her visit, though he hid it well. “Miss Granger.” He replied smoothly. “To what do I owe this disruption?” He asked crassly.

Hermione laughed. “I'm sorry to bother you. I was just talking to the headmaster, and thought I would come by and say `hello.'”

Snape's expression of disinterest did not change. “`Hello,'” he replied sarcastically before returning to his grading.

“`Hello?'” Hermione repeated, looking affronted. “That's all you have to say to your favorite student after a few months? No `how have you been?' or `how was your summer?'” She questioned, sitting down on the edge of the table nearest his desk. She shook her head. “Not even a `how're the kids?'”

Without looking up, her old professor snorted in derision. “You are not my favorite student. You're alive. I don't care how your summer went. And as for kids…the day Potter procreates will not only be a sad day, but also the day I hand in my resignation.”

Hermione nodded. “I see you are still a miserable old bat.” She commented.

Finally, he looked up. “And I see you are still a rude, insistent little know-it-all with no respect for how you speak to your superiors,” the man behind his desk fired back.

“I'm no longer your student, or a student to this school. We're equals now. That must be rough for you to swallow.” She bantered in return, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

Snape sighed and shook his head. “Still as annoying as ever. No longer my student, but somehow you've managed to remain to be a pain in my ass.”

His remark made Hermione smile. “Well, if I'm annoying you so much, perhaps I should just cut to the chase?” She suggested nonchalantly.

“Whatever will get you to leave quicker.” Snape coaxed back.

“Well, I was just wondering in you've gotten any further with Voldemort's secret plans, the ones he wouldn't tell you about a few weeks ago, perchance?” She inquired sweetly.

Whatever he had been expecting her to say, this was certainly not it. His black eyes narrowed. “I don't recall what you are talking about,” he denied in a clipped tone.

Hermione hopped off the table. “Sure you do. You two had a nice chat about secret weapons, Harry's undoing and destruction, blah-blah-blah, only the `most trusted—'” she used air quotes to accentuate her point—“knew of his plans. Who is that anyway? Bellatrix Lestrange? Lucius Malfoy, maybe?” She asked lightly.

“I'd like to know where you are getting your information.” Snape sneered in return.

Hermione shrugged. “Doesn't really matter, does it? So how about it then? And that's not going to work, Professor.” She smirked, feeling and blocking his attempts to break into her mind. She was easily holding his at bay, which was a good sign. Experimentally, she pushed forward the scene she had witnessed in Harry's dream, attempting to let him see that and that alone.

Snape's narrowed eyes widened slightly before narrowing again. “Where did you get that?”

Hermione shook her head. “It's nothing. Just privy to a few things, and hoping to become privy to a few more.” She cajoled, her eyes dancing with mirth.

The Potions Master regained his cool tone and emotionless expression. “Why?”

She chuckled. “Because I'm a nosy know-it-all. So do you have anything else on it or not?”

In response, Snape sat back in his chair, surveying her wordlessly.

Hermione sighed and lost her nonchalance. “Okay, look. I feel completely in the dark and useless. I only stumbled on that, and I still don't know much about anything. I thought that maybe if I could help piece some things together…I dunno, I'm sick of not helping.” She slowly shook her head. “I don't know what else to do—and don't tell me not to worry about it because this is just as much as my war as anyone else's.” Hermione retorted.

Still, Snape didn't say a word.

“Fine!” Hermione snapped angrily. “I'll figure it out myself. I don't need your help—Hell, you obviously don't know anything more than I do anyhow.” She turned towards the door and mumbled under her breath loud enough for him to hear, “Wretched asshole…”

She stormed up the steps, putting distance between herself and Snape. By the time she reached the Entrance Hall, Hermione had a grin on her lips. She had already figured Snape wouldn't tell her anything—and she doubted he even knew anything anyway. He had been a test. An experiment she could count on.

And she had passed brilliantly.

***

I can't be your angel when I'm living like a devil
Can't be your lover when I'm living like a rebel
Don't want your pity and I don't want your help
Don't try and save me go take care of yourself

“Alive (N Out Of Control)” PAPA ROACH

***

Being away, Harry found finding time to be nervous and worried about how things were going back home difficult. With his busy schedule, he didn't have much time to think about anything except what he was doing at the moment. He thought about how he could cut seconds on his time or pushing himself harder. How he could better his spell casting aim. Or what fresh Hell Sonia was going to think up for him next.

He was no longer on kitchen duty alone every night. He had a sneaking suspicion Luke had something to do with that. Instead, now he was paired with whoever had the poorest performance that day. Generally, this was a bloke on his team named Gavin Claybote, and surprise-surprise, Claybote wasn't any better at washing dishes than he was at spell casting.

“I was told I'd find you out here, Potter.” A voice spoke behind him, causing Harry to turn around.

He gave Cedric a half-smile. “Hey.” He was currently sitting on a large boulder almost to the boundary line of the camp, looking into the twilight. Cedric took a spot beside him.

“Trying to duck Sonia?” Cedric laughed, reaching into his pocket.

Harry chuckled in the growing darkness. “Sounds about right. If she sees me, she will probably give me a thousand push-ups for breathing or something.” He snorted.

Cedric chortled beside him and then offered him a cigarette. Harry stared at it for a seconds before taking it finally. However, he did not take Cedric's offered lighter. “Maybe.” He said softly, unsure of whether or not he wanted to light up or not.

“Trying to quit?” Cedric asked, taking a long drag.

Harry shrugged. “Something like that.”

They were quiet for a few moments. “Something on your mind, mate? Or did you just come out here to look at the stars?” Cedric questioned.

Harry shook his head. “Not really, nope. Just missing home, I guess.” He admitted.

“Yeah? How did you ever survive Hogwarts, then?” His friend teased. “Can't help but feel like there's a girl involved.” He added slyly.

Guilty, Harry grinned. “And you're probably right.” He hadn't had much free time since boot camp had started. Missing and worrying about Hermione had dropped on his priority list during the day. Out here, away from camp and everyone, away from all the distraction, his worry came back full force. “I hate being cut off from everything going on back home.” Harry confessed bitterly.

“Well, it's only been a few days, mate.” Cedric reasoned sensibly.

“A lot can happen in a few days.” Harry told him darkly.

Cedric fiddled with his lighter. “What's her name?”

“Hermione.” Harry croaked back softly, staring at the cigarette he was twirling between his fingers, trying to ignore the itch to light it.

Cedric nodded. “Granger, right?” He asked evenly before looking over at Harry. “My dad told me about some article he saw in the paper last year `round Christmas—I think he talked to your father about it, too. I just wasn't sure if she was your girlfriend or not.” Cedric hastily explained to Harry's raised eyebrows.

Satisfied with his explanation of knowing about his personal life, Harry nodded. “Yeah, Hermione Granger.” He confirmed, daring Cedric to make something of it.

Instead, the older bloke shrugged, uncaring. “Cool. How does that happen?”

Trying to keep the defensive sarcasm from his voice, Harry replied, “Same way it happened with everyone else: Boy meets Girl; Girl turns Boy's life upside down. They live happily ever after.” Harry said dryly, internally chuckled at the huge understatement.

“And the parents?” Cedric pressed on.

`What, was this bloke writing a damn book?' Harry thought to himself before responding shorty, “Got used to it.”

“Good, I'm sure she's great.” Cedric said, obviously sensing Harry's irritation and attempting to ease his tension.

Harry relaxed, realizing Cedric was just curious and not trying to be an ass. He nodded. “Yeah, she is. Really keeps me wound up.”

Cedric laughed. “Normally girlfriends help you, uh, unwind.” He said with a double entendre.

Harry chuckled slightly at his joke. “Well, she keeps me wound up when she's not around, I guess you could say. Makes me anxious to be away from her these days.” Harry told him.

“And you don't like being away from her because…because of what happened at that Quidditch game—what, was it last month when I saw it in the Daily Prophet? With…with the Dark Mark and Death Eater attack?” Cedric's voice was low and hesitant.

Harry automatically felt his jaw flex in response. This was certainly not a conversation he was aiming to have at the moment. Instead of responding, he wordlessly held his hand out for Cedric lighter, then slowly lit the cigarette he had been playing with.

Taking his silence as a `yes,' Cedric continued, “Because you and Dumbledore…you lot think He's back, that…that You-Know-Who is back.”

In answer, Harry took a long, satisfying drag from his cigarette and closed his eyes. He suddenly wished Cedric would leave. He didn't need this Hufflepuff to tell Harry things he already knew. He was worrying enough about all that without his commentary.

“So you think there's a possibility something might happen to her, that's why you're scared.” He said matter-of-factly, not asking.

Hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, Harry looked over at the older bloke. “Would you like to try to guess what color of socks I'm wearing too, mate?” He asked sarcastically.

Cedric gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Probably not all what you are wanting to hear, but…I dunno, I guess I don't know who else to talk to about…about You-Know-Who. A lot of people don't believe you lot about it, you know.”

Harry shrugged. “And I don't give a fuck. Not my problem.” He retorted, knowing how insolent he sounded and not caring. He didn't understand why he was being so rude to Cedric, a bloke he genuinely had grown to like quite a bit. Perhaps he felt like maybe he had been using him this whole time for gossip. He wanted to tell him to take the Daily Prophet and shove it up his ass sideways.

“I think believe you.” Cedric told him, causing Harry to suddenly still for a moment.

“That's your prerogative.” He finally told him, still unsure if he was winding him up.

“This whole `Boy-Who-Lived' thing…I know some people think it's a little mad but…I mean, I don't see why you and Dumbledore would make it up. They say it's all about attention-seeking, and you did like to be in the spotlight at school with your mates sometimes, but…this is different. This is big.” Cedric talked Harry through his mental reasoning.

Harry felt his hands shake slightly, and he didn't know why. He didn't think he was angry at Cedric—he couldn't blame the bloke for wanting to get to the truth. Maybe it was because it was reminding Harry of what other were saying about him—something he hadn't given much thought about. After Hogwarts, when the story came out, he had been so wrapped up in worrying about Hermione that he didn't care what the tabloids were saying. In Cliffinshire, he had been cut off from it all and had dove headfirst in sex, training, and relaxation. He had been distracted. His objective had been overcoming Voldemort. The `Boy-Who-Lived' story had barely crossed his mind.

Now he couldn't get Cedric to shut up about it, and the worst part was, Harry was beginning to feel guilty because he didn't think the bloke was just being nosy either—he sounded genuinely concerned.

Detecting his annoyance, Cedric stopped his musings. “I'm sorry. I'm not trying to…to…I dunno. I'll just leave you alone. See you.” He got up and was about to head back to their dorms when Harry stopped him.

“Wait.” Harry said, sighing. “No, I'm sorry. I just…haven't really given much thought about all this, and to have it sort of thrown up in my face…I wasn't really expecting it. Sit back down.” He told him, gesturing for Cedric to take his spot back.

Cedric gingerly sat back down, but remained silent.

Harry didn't know where to start. He didn't know what Cedric wanted to know, nor what he even wanted to tell him, was allowed to tell him. “Voldemort's back.” Harry begin, noticing Cedric flinch at the use of his proper name and felt some sort of sick satisfaction in knowing he made him uncomfortable. “He came back just before I graduated from Hogwarts. I don't know what I can and cannot say—honestly I've spent the summer as far away from all that as I could. Hermione, Ron, Draco and I were pretty well on vacation for a month and a half, I guess you could say. Spent our time at Sirius's beach house. Everything was going great—training, surfing, video games, and all that. For my birthday, Hermione got me tickets to that Quidditch match. Brilliant game.” He reminisced, stretching back so he was now leaning against the tree the boulder was in front of. He flicked his ashes before he drew his cigarette to his lips.

“As we walked back to where people were camping, we realized people were screaming.” Harry said, replaying in his mind the events that had happened that night. “Death Eaters were levitating the Muggle family that owned the campsite. They were looking for me.” He said quietly. “Stupidly, I went out there. Thought it was the best option before anyone got hurt. I'd been training.” Harry was silent for a beat. “But not hard enough, apparently. We all made it out alive, however. Got Voldemort's message though—he was saving me for a later time. I, uh, hadn't `suffered enough' yet. But I hadn't been forgotten. I'd pay for not dying when I was a baby. I'd pay for…for being the `Boy-Who-Lived' or whatever…” Harry's voice trailed off.

Cedric's face was unreadable. He listened to Harry's words, taking them in without hesitation. “So now what?” He finally croaked.

Harry stared out at the stars without replying for a few seconds before sighing. “That's really all I know at the moment. A storm's coming. He's…he's pissed. He has a plan, I think, but I dunno what it is. It's…it's going to get difficult. A lot of people…well, getting others to believe, without actual proof…it's rough. That's how he wants to play. He's not ready to come out in the open. And all the while, he's getting stronger. Building an army. If the Wizarding World doesn't get their heads out of theirs asses soon, it's going to be too late.” Harry predicted with certainty.

Slowly, Cedric nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah…talking about it with my mates, or my father or whatever…I dunno, you make it sound so much more…serious, you know?”

Harry shrugged. “It is serious. I didn't want to take it seriously. Not yet. I thought we had time. More time to figure this all out. But we don't. After I found out about what had happened when I was a baby—it was just after Christmas—Dumbledore…he said He would come back. I never thought I'd be facing his return by the end of my school year. Never imagined I'd have a run-in with Death Eaters just after by birthday. Everything just…just completely escalated. Hermione almost died before we graduated, Cedric. She almost died. Attacked by that vile Slytherin Jonathan Avery, who was working for Voldemort. Don't ask me how, but somehow they hooked up.” Harry told his friend, finding it hard to actually stop talking now. “He…he came into her dorm, with a knife…she lost so much blood.” Harry's voice was monotone. “She had to fight for her life. She didn't come-to for almost two days. The waiting was…terrifying.” Harry recalled with goosebumps.

Cedric let out a low whistle. “Avery? Really? I don't know if I should be surprised or not.” He said, completely shocked by the news. “How did I not read about that in the Prophet?!”

“Must have missed that one.” Harry told him, forcing a half-smile.

“Must have.” Cedric agreed, shaking his head. “Is that why you're so worried? You think something like that might happen again?” He asked slowly.

Harry was silent for a moment before giving a noncommittal shrug. “I…more of the chance, not that I think anything will happen. There are contingencies in place. Anything happens, I'm obviously supposed to be alerted at once—rules be damned. She's going on vacation with her family. She's said she is going to have Dumbledore send someone to check in on her and her family, just to be sure everything is okay. Helps with my worry.” Hermione had told him the night before he left that she had been planning on talking to the headmaster about her trip, and about having someone check in on them. It saved him from having to go behind her back and asking Sirius to do it.

A silence fell over them—too long of a silence. Cedric had grown awfully quiet all of a sudden. Harry glanced over at him and saw him look down at the ground uncomfortably. “What's on your mind?” He questioned him.

Cedric looked up. “I was just thinking…with everything that just suddenly seemed to happen, to fall into place…I mean, it has to cross one's mind, even for the smallest nanosecond in history,” He said quickly, “I mean…actually, nothing. Never mind. Forget it.” He decided.

His curiosity piqued, Harry pressed him to continue. “What? What has to cross my mind?”

Looking more uncomfortable than ever, Cedric dawdled with his words. “I'm just saying—not that I believe it or anyone else or anything, mind you,” He clarified with his hands in front of his as a gesture of surrender, “I'm only wondering…with a…with Hermione's family being absent front the Wizarding World all this time save when You-Know-Who was around…I mean…she comes on scene…becomes chummy with the most unlikely person imaginable at Hogwarts, they get together…You-Know-Who suddenly crops up out of nowhere…” He trailed off, losing steam as Harry's expression harden with each word.

It was enough for Harry to piece together his suggestion. “I should hit you for that, you know.” He said, his voice low. “Hermione isn't with Voldemort. She is very much on our side—my side—against Voldemort. She's been through her own pain.” Harry said shortly, the very idea Cedric was suggesting making him angry.

Cedric held his hands up in submission again, “I know, mate, I….I was just thinking out loud. Shouldn't have said anything. It's stupid, right? I mean, you lot know this girl a helluva whole lot more than I do, I'm…I'm just trying to look at it from all angles. Not being involved and all…I guess it just makes more sense to me than it would to any of you lot, right?” He tried to reason, smoothing over his former words.

A small part of Harry understood Cedric's thoughts. Someone that didn't know Hermione, and saw it purely from a facts standpoint, might think such.

But they'd be wrong. So wrong.

He gave Cedric a death glare and said menacingly, “I get that. Now. Don't. Say. Anything. Like. That. Again. Ever.” Harry warned, his tone threatening.

Cedric nodded. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean any offense, I swear.” He promised solemnly.

Feeling the sudden urge to prove Hermione's loyalty, Harry narrowed his eyes and said quietly, “She had been bullied, teased, hated at Hogwarts—by almost everyone, by…by me…” Harry admitted guiltily. “But she's compassionate. She gave me a chance to change. And those people that were so horrible to her? Those are the same people she is fighting to protect.” He told him heatedly, remembering idle conversations over the summer in his bed with limbs tangled up every which way, discussing the fate of the Wizarding World. How she forgave their ignorance. Forgiveness they didn't deserve.

Harry shook his head, “I don't know her role in all this. I don't even know mine. But…she scares me, I know that. What I'm constantly fearing is Hermione herself. Always trying to fix things. Always taking things on herself. Always keeping her burdens to herself.” He spat each word venomously. “Frankly, she scares the hell out of me. Last year, she was tortured with these night terrors—horrible, they were. But she kept silent. Never talked to anyone about them. Once I finally found out about them, she told me sometimes she was terrified to go to sleep because she feared what she would see. How scared she would be of herself.” Harry shivered at the memory.

He didn't know why he didn't stop there, maybe it was because he found it hard to shut his mouth, or maybe because he hadn't talked about it since it happened—not even to Ron or Draco. It had him too angry, too humiliated that he couldn't stop it. His voice barely audible now, he continued, “I'm worried about something happening to her; I'm more worried about her happening to herself. The Quidditch match…” He began, stomach churning just remembering her screams. “I was being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange…and Hermione…Hermione was hiding in a tree just above us, where I told her to stay—against her will, of course. Ron and Draco were there to protect her. But Hermione…she can't listen. She can't just…just stay out of it. She's so stubborn.” His words were turning angry. He felt his chest tighten as he watched in his mind's eye as the scene unfolded before him. “She jumped down…onto Bellatrix's shoulders to stop her torturing me with the Cruciatus Curse. That bitch, she turned her wand on Hermione, and I had to sit there and watch as she tortured her. It lasted…only seconds before everyone intervened but those few seconds…” Harry shook his head and finally looked up to meet Cedric's shocked expression. “I've only felt that helpless one other time, when Avery attacked her.”

Unsure of why he shared so much, why he opened up so much pain and anger in himself, Harry hung his head. “You don't know her like I do. She's…not with him, at all, ever. There's too much good in her. Too much instinct, like that, to take that sort of pain because they can't bear to watch someone they love take it. It scares me. I'd do the same in a heartbeat, don't get me wrong. But with her, it's different. I don't want her to do that sort of thing. That's my job.” He said with conviction.

Cedric ran a hand through his hair. “Looking at you, being around you all day…I'd never guess you had all this…all this stewing inside.” He admitted, not sure what to say.

“When we're busy, and I'm distracted, it's not as bad. Now,” Harry said, gesturing to the quiet surrounding them, “Here…I'm worried. Worried about what might happen while I'm gone. Worried about something might happen, and what she might take on herself to do. Maybe take that curse for Ron next time, or Draco. Or her parents. Maybe…maybe something worse. The only reason I'm not covering her like her own personal shadow is because she swore she would never do anything like that ever again. Her oath…that's about the only thing that lets me sleep at night.”

***

Looking back at the beginning of this
And how life was
Just you and me loving all of our friends
Living life like an ocean
But now the current's only pulling me down
It's getting harder too breath
It won't be to long and I will be going under
Can you save me from this?

`Cause it's not my time I'm not going
There's a fear in me it's not showing
This could be the end of me
And everything I know
Oh but I won't go

“It's Not My Time” 3 DOORS DOWN

***

Hermione stood alone in her empty house, feeling lost for the first time in all this.

But she didn't have time to feel lost, she reminded herself. She needed to go. Precious seconds were ticking by. Hermione glanced over at her closet where she kept a small extra bookshelf. All her favorites, while the rest sat out in her large bookshelf in her bedroom. Now, her favorite bookshelf housed so much more than just great stories—it housed her favorite memories as well.

Hermione slowly eased out of bed. The hour was late—or would three a.m. be considered early? Either way, Hermione was still awake despite knowing she needed to get some sleep. The next day would be a long one. She needed her rest.

But she had to do something else first. It had to be done. She couldn't risk it. She reached into her school trunk and pulled out a large, round, voluptuous vase-like container with a stopper in the top. She slowly pulled the cork out and started into the empty glass. Hermione closed her eyes, and turned her focus to her thoughts. Thoughts of him. “Harry.” She breathed aloud, her voice nothing more of a whisper. She pressed the end of her wand to her left temple. Memories flooded her thoughts. Some good. Some bad. Cliffenshire. Hogwarts. Their fight. Quidditch matches. Broom rides. Hogsmeade. Christmas. She kept pushing her thoughts farther and farther back. Their awkward friendship. Detention together. Her first day in Potions. The Ministry. Hand shaking, she pulled her wand away, gasping slightly. She was reminded of that day so long ago in Dumbledore's office where he revisited her memory of Harry and herself exchanging Christmas gifts. A thick silvery strand stretched from her temple, and she guided it to the mouth of her bottle. She watched as the gas-like substance—or was it a liquid?—swirled around in the glass. She didn't break the connection and watched as the bottle continued to fill. A montage of memories played before her eyes before vanishing quickly. After a few minutes, the strand thinned before breaking entirely. She quickly replaced the stopper.

Through the glass, she could make out a face in the midst of the liquid-gas. His face. Black hair. Green eyes. Scar on his forehead. Her favorite smile. She tried to recall her memories of it, but it was difficult. It was comparable to trying to catch a dream just out of reach. Smokey, clouded images stirred in her mind. She could remember everything, but the details weren't there. She couldn't remember how green his eyes were. How white that unicorn had been around Christmas. The warmth of his hand in hers. All of those details escaped her.

Pursing her lips together, she sealed the bottle before shrinking down to the size of a small vial. Hermione walked over to her closet where she kept her private bookshelf. Personal favorites. Guilty pleasure titles stared back at her. She reached forward and picked up her worn version of The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. A favorite book as a child. She had read it countless times. The idea of some place special, hidden, just waiting to be explored…it had reminded her of Hogwarts when she had been forbidden to go. Hermione slowly thumbed through the old novel before stopping somewhere in the middle. With her wand, she cut out a large chunk, making just enough room for the vial in her hand. She placed the vial inside, stared at it for a few seconds before closing it. Hermione replaced it on the shelf, her hidden treasure. A lone tear journeyed down her cheek.

This wasn't a time for reminiscing. There was no second-guessing. What was done was done. She was committed. She picked up a notebook from her desk—the last item she needed to put into her bag. The notebook that knew of her plans in great detail, knew every outcome she had been preparing for. She didn't need to look through it to know what it said—she had done that dozens of times every day for weeks now.

Hermione silently climbed back into her bed, absentmindedly scratching Crookshanks behind his ears as he purred contently. Using the light from her lamp, Hermione sighed and pulled out her notebook, flipping through its pages until she found a page ripped from a book with the face of Bellatrix Lestrange staring up at her. Words from her description of the witch jumped out at her from the page: Death Eater. Dangerous. Voldemort's Number Two. Ruthless. Murderer. Life sentence in Azkaban. Escapee.

She continued through the book, already knowing what each page would tell her. VOLDEMORT'S PAST. Real name Tom Marvolo Riddle—named after his father and grandfather. Born December 31, 1926. Born at Wool's Orphanage and resided there until the age of seven before taken in by an eccentric great-aunt. Half-blood. Son of Muggle father Tom Riddle, Senior and pureblood mother Merope Gaunt. Merope's mother was a Granger. She had ran away with a love-potion-induced Tom Riddle when she was eighteen, and her husband left her soon after she had been impregnated. Died soon after giving birth to Tom Riddle. Father lived in a manor in Little Hangleton; mother just outside the village in a shack.

Went to Hogwarts. Ideal student to all the professors. Was pitied. Graduated with top marks. First job at Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. Asked for a job at Hogwarts—Defense Against the Dark Arts. Dumbledore turned him down. Fell out of touch with Wizarding World for a while. Returned as `Lord Voldemort.'

Hermione turned the page, and saw a category: VOLDEMORT'S REIGN. The details continued. Allies and enemies. Strategies used in the past. The prophecy. Any history she could find, she wrote it down. Perhaps the smallest detail could help. Another few pages, and there was Avery. Important business at Borgin and Burke soon. Avery himself, not important. Just a tool for Voldemort to wield to his whim. She didn't know how useful he would be. She couldn't stake out Borgin and Burkes for a week in a half, hoping to see him.

She would start with the orphanage. Maybe they had an address for his great-aunt. Not much was known about the woman. Dumbledore had said she was somewhat of a recluse. Untraceable, more or less. Possibly dead. Hermione didn't know what she could find, but she felt she should start at his beginning. Little Hangleton in northern England would next. It seemed futile, and she didn't expect to find much. It would be a short visit. Perhaps to the manor, then the shack.

Hermione would also keep an eye on Knockturn Alley as well. With any luck, she might be there at the perfect time.

She continued to look through her notes, going over the outline of her plan. Find Voldemort's hideout. Infiltrate his inner circle, impersonating one Bellatrix Lestrange. She had enough Polyjuice Potion to last for two weeks, and she only had a week and a half. If Harry returned, and she wasn't back yet…she knew he would ruin everything.

She had to ask the right questions. Plant the right ideas in the event that things went…erroneously. Use her knowledge to her advantage. Find out the plans Snape couldn't. It would be dangerous, difficult, and delicate. She had to plan everything just right.

Merlin help her.

Hermione cast one last look around her room, took a steady breath, and Disapparated.

***

I was a little girl
Alone in my little world
Who dreamed of a little home for me.
I played pretend between the trees,
And fed my houseguests bark and leaves,
And laughed in my pretty bed of green.

I had a dream
That I could fly
From the highest swing.
I had a dream.

“Dream” PRISCILLA AHN

Well, what did you think? I'm going to bed, and it would be awesome to have some reviews to wake up to *hint hint* haha. Well, let me know what you thought, and I'll see you next time!

*~Archie~*

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