Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and her various corporate partners. Keldorn Firecam is owned by BioWare, Atari, or whoever it is that owns the rights to Baldur's Gate 2: Shadows of Amn these days, although I have taken several liberties with his character. I own nothing, and I am making no profit by my little ventures into the shadowy realms of fanfiction. I do so purely for enjoyment. I would, however, like to thank JKR for allowing us all to play in her sandbox.
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Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart
XIX
It is proper to justice, as compared with the other virtues, to direct man in his relations with others: because it denotes a kind of equality, as its very name implies; indeed we are wont to say that things are adjusted when they are made equal, for equality is in reference of one thing to some other. On the other hand the other virtues perfect man in those matters only which befit him in relation to himself. Accordingly that which is right in the works of the other virtues, and to which the intention of the virtue tends as to its proper object, depends on its relation to the agent only, whereas the right in a work of justice, besides its relation to the agent, is set up by its relation to others. Because a man's work is said to be just when it is related to some other by way of some kind of equality, for instance the payment of the wage due for a service rendered. And so a thing is said to be just, as having the rectitude of justice, when it is the term of an act of justice, without taking into account the way in which it is done by the agent: whereas in the other virtues nothing is declared to be right unless it is done in a certain way by the agent. For this reason justice has its own special proper object over and above the other virtues, and this object is called the just, which is the same as "right." Hence it is evident that right is the object of justice.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed. His head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
The thick book in front of him, the Summa Philosophica, had quickly become the bane of his existence. It wouldn't have been so bad if St. Tomus had simply written in words and phrases that people actually used. It seemed to Harry that the old saint threw around words like 'agent' and 'object' more than any man had a right to do.
Harry was not looking forward to mucking out the horse and hippogriff stalls once again in the freezing, late-December weather, but before he could get that over and done with, he needed to finish thirty some more pages of this Merlin-forsaken book.
Harry was about to refocus his attention on his reading when there was a knock at the door. He quickly glanced at Keldorn seated at his own desk before rising to answer the door. As he opened it, his eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Hello, Harry," Hermione said with a smile. "Is Sir Firecam available?"
"Certainly," replied Harry as he stepped to the side and held the door open for his friend to enter the knight's office.
"Miss Granger," rang the voice of the old man, "to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
Harry made his way back to his desk and his reading. But while his eyes were focused on the book before him, his attention was on the brown-haired young woman who had just entered the room. To Harry, it seemed as though his interactions with his bookish best friend had dwindled to scant minutes per day since he began his time as Keldorn's squire. Most of their time together was limited to Harry's remaining classes, the ten minutes he was afforded to take his meals, and the brief time they had each evening after Harry returned to the common room after a hard day's work. Without fail, Hermione was always there to greet him when he finally made it back to Gryffindor Tower, even though most nights Harry was far too tired to be much company before simply heading off to bed.
"I was hoping that you would allow me the chance to examine your armor once again. I think I've been able to replicate the extradimensional folding that allows the armor to disappear inside the gorget, but I wanted to make sure that I have the sequencing right. After all, an error in the folding process could destabilize the lattice of the subspace when it reemerges."
"Well, I don't see why not," said Keldorn as he stood and unbuckled his gorget from around his neck. He placed the piece of armor on a small wooden stand in the corner of the office before speaking the command word that made the rest of the suit appear. Hermione quickly brought her wand to bear and began inspecting the metal plates.
However, Harry couldn't help but wonder if her attention was really as riveted on him as his was on her. He knew that she had been rather lonely of late due to his absence and to the fact that Ron was still being a royal git about Harry's resignation from the Quidditch team. She had approached Keldorn with the thought that she might study in his office along with Harry, but the old knight had shot that idea down immediately. Apparently Harry was not in need of any further distractions.
After that, it seemed as though Hermione had found renewed interest in her N.E.W.T. project, which just so happened to require her to make frequent visits to Keldorn's office to inspect his armor. Harry had the sneaking suspicion that Hermione didn't really need to inspect it as often as she did, but he wasn't about to bring that up.
Harry tried to refocus on his reading.
Now a thing can be adjusted to a man in two ways: first by its very nature, as when a man gives so much that he may receive equal value in return…
But out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione chew on her lower lip for a brief moment and all hope of concentration was lost.
Maybe I'm just nervous about the Christmas party, Harry thought to himself. After all, his first official date with Hermione was only two days away. Keldorn had reluctantly given his squire permission to attend the affair, and Harry had even found time to purchase a new set of dress robes for the occasion.
After about fifteen minutes of diligent study, Hermione proclaimed herself to be finished with the armor. She thanked Keldorn and made her way to the door.
"See you later, Harry," she said with a wink that Harry understood to betray her true intentions for visiting the office.
"Bye, Hermione," he replied.
Once the witch was gone, Keldorn walked over to Harry's desk and closed the book Harry was supposed to be reading.
"Let's see," began the old knight, "tell me, what is the difference between natural right and positive right?"
"Erm…"
"Yes, as I thought. You've spent the last quarter hour completely distracted from your given task, haven't you?"
Denial would do him no good. Paladins could literally hear the difference between truth and lies.
"Yes, sir."
"Hmmm. Well there's nothing for it today. You'll simply have to reread this section of the Summa tomorrow."
"Yes, sir," Harry said as he rose to his feet, preparing to head to the stables.
"And to hammer home the need for concentration," said the knight before Harry could take his cloak down from its peg, "I think one hundred push-ups are in order before you attend to your other duties."
Harry didn't bother arguing. He simply sighed and dropped to the floor. The extra exercises would guarantee that his arms would be burning by the time he finished the stables.
But still, fifteen extra minutes with Hermione was worth it.
OoOoO
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Friday, the twentieth of December found Harry with an unusual abundance of energy. The day started off rather normally with his usual early-morning meditation and his regular tasks given by Keldorn. Professor McGonagall had the class beginning to work on human transfiguration, which was much more difficult and much more dangerous than anything they had done previously. After a long lecture, they proceeded to attempt to change the color of their eyebrows. Hermione, to no one's surprise, did rather well, managing to get her eyebrows to shift between several different hues from bright red to dark blue. Harry managed to turn one of his eyebrows yellow. Ron accidentally gave himself a handlebar mustache.
Later that afternoon, after hurriedly finishing his work in the stables, Harry ran back to Gryffindor Tower to prepare for Slughorn's Christmas party. At first, Harry had been afraid that his new mentor would not allow him to attend the party at all. After all, the old knight seemed rather adamant that Harry avoid any semblance of distraction from his duties as a squire. However, in the end it took little convincing to obtain permission. It would simply be rude for Harry to rescind his acceptance of the invitation and to leave poor Hermione without a date at the last minute. Sir Keldorn Firecam was many things, but he was never rude.
And so Harry found himself almost bouncing with nervous energy as he finished donning his new dress robes. He was readjusting his white bowtie for the ninth time when Ron walked into the dorm room wearing his dirty Quidditch robes.
"Heading off to the Slug Club, then?" said the red-haired wizard.
Harry stilled his nervous movement as his eyebrows shot up in surprise at the fact that Ron had spoken to him. Harry turned to face him.
"Err… Yeah."
Ron sat down on his bed and removed his mud-ridden boots. He then stared at his hands in silence for a moment.
"Look, Harry…" Ron began but trailed off.
"Yes?" Harry responded after a moment.
"You know how I get sometimes," Ron began again, "and you know how important Quidditch is to me."
"Yeah," Harry said as he looked back to the mirror to continue adjusting his bowtie, giving Ron the space he needed to say whatever it was he was going to say.
"And you know that… well…" Ron trailed off again.
It wasn't much in the way of an apology for acting like a total git for several days followed by weeks of silence, but Harry understood what Ron was trying to do. Apologizing was never easy for anyone. Harry knew that Ron in particular had a difficult time with it. The time that Harry spent studying the Summa with Sir Firecam had given him a little bit of new insight into human nature. Harry already knew that Ron was terribly insecure because of his family-that he felt the need to try and live up to his older brothers, but now he also recognized the impact that insecurity had on Ron's pride. From Ron's point of view, no one ever gave him credit for doing something well or getting something right. It didn't matter whether or not that was the case in reality, that was simply the way Ron saw the world. Apologizing meant that Ron had to admit to himself that he was in the wrong. It meant that he had to add his own voice to the already overwhelming chorus shouting at him that he'd never get anything right. That was why it took him so long to come to moments like this. That was why it took him so long to even get the words out. But he was trying.
And thus, Harry decided to cut him some slack.
"It's okay, Ron," said Harry without looking away from the mirror, "I get it."
The ability to forgive was important, after all. Did Ron deserve to be forgiven? Especially after such a poor attempt at apologizing? Probably not. But then again, did anyone ever really deserve forgiveness? If you deserved it, you probably didn't need it in the first place. Forgiveness could only truly be given to those who didn't deserve it. The Light was mercy and forgiveness itself. If Harry couldn't forgive one of his best friends, he had no business being Sir Firecam's squire.
"How was practice?" Harry asked, shifting the conversation away from heavy topics to something lighter.
"Dreadful," Ron replied with a relieved smile. "I think Katie is trying to bring Wood back from the dead."
"Oliver Wood is not dead. He graduated."
"You know what I mean. I don't understand why she makes us practice like this the day before Christmas break. I know we've got our work cut out for us after shifting the positions around and holding tryouts again, but still. Flying in the cold and the muck doesn't exactly build morale."
Harry smiled.
"Sometimes quitting Quidditch doesn't seem so bad."
Ron responded by throwing a muddy boot at him.
Harry ducked out of the way, shouting, "Watch the robes, you git!"
"What?" responded Ron with a smirk. "Afraid Hermione won't kiss your ugly mug if you've got a bit of mud on your shirt?"
Harry's reply took the form of a glare.
"Seriously," said Ron, "how's the snogging going?"
"There is no snogging."
"What?!" Ron laughed, "What's the point if there's no snogging?!"
"Shut it," Harry responded. With one last glance in the mirror, he turned and marched out of the dorm and down to the common room, leaving Ron to his laughter. He only had to wait for a few moments before Hermione appeared at the top of the steps to the girl's dormitory.
She was wearing a red, floor-length gown that left her shoulders bare, as well as long, white gloves that reached up beyond her elbows. There was a delicate string of what looked like pearls around her neck. Her wild hair had been tamed, and was done up very prettily. Harry thought that it must have taken her all afternoon.
The effect was worth it.
"Hi, Harry," Hermione said with a shy smile, "you look very handsome."
Harry coughed.
"Err… so do you. Pretty, I mean. You look really pretty."
"Thank you, kind sir," she said as she finished descending the stairs. The two teenagers stood looking at each other for a moment, seemingly at a loss for what to do next. Hermione finally broke the silence.
"Well, shall we?" she asked before taking Harry's hand and leading him to the portrait hole.
Once they were out in the hallway, Hermione shivered.
"Cold?" Harry asked.
"A bit," Hermione replied. "I suppose this gown isn't very practical." She then turned to Harry with a smile. "I guess I'll just have to rely on you to keep me warm."
Harry wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but he smiled right back at the girl standing next to him before putting his arm around her and walking off in the direction of the party.
They arrived at only a couple of minutes past six o'clock, but the party was obviously already well underway. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables. Harry noted several students that he knew and several others that he had met at meetings of the Slug Club, as well as quite a few adults that he had never seen before. He guessed that they were past members of the club invited back for the holiday gathering.
"Harry, my boy!" exclaimed Slughorn when the older man spotted him. "How good to see you! Such a shame that you're no longer in my class. We really must have a chat with that Firecam, see if we can't work something out to get you back in the potions classroom. Your talent simply can't go to waste!"
Harry's reply was cut off as the professor turned his attention to Hermione.
"And if it isn't Hermione Granger on the arm of the Boy Who Lived! No real surprise there, I must say. A brilliant wizard needs a brilliant witch after all. You look marvelous, my dear. Come with me, you two, there are some people that I must introduce you to," and with a firm hand, Slughorn guided them off in the direction of several of the adult guests.
They were led to a stout, bespectacled wizard standing next to a tall, gaunt man with pale skin.
"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger" Slughorn began, "if I may introduce the distinguished author, Mr. Eldred Worple and his friend Sanguini."
"Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!" began Worple, "I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, 'Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?'... But seriously, I would be delighted to write it myself - people are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months... My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea -"
"I don't think Harry is interested in that at the moment, Mr. Worple," Hermione interrupted before he could say more. "However, I did find your recent work about living with vampires to be very interesting."
"Did you, now?" the short man replied to her. "Well then, you'll be pleased to meet Sanguini," Worple continued while gesturing to the tall man beside him, "he's one of the vampires that took me in for quite some time. Nearly made a meal out of me the first time we met!"
The pale vampire reached down and took Hermione's hand, bringing it up to his lips.
"Charmed," Sanguini said in a deep, foreign accent before he sharply inhaled with Hermione's wrist less than an inch from his nose. "May I say, Mizz Hermione, zat you look quite… delicious…"
"Right!" exclaimed Harry as he snatched Hermione's hand away from the vampire, "nice to meet you! Excuse us, I think I see someone over there." With that, Harry hurriedly pulled Hermione away from the creepy vampire.
Slughorn, however, was not so easily deterred. Harry and Hermione soon found themselves once again being guided through the room and introduced to more people. After about forty-five minutes, Harry was sure that he had made more introductions that evening than he had in his entire life.
"How much more of this do we need to take?" Harry whispered into Hermione's ear as they listened to an elderly witch drone on about some story in which Harry's great-grand uncle might have played a passing role.
Hermione turned to Harry with a smile and a wink before addressing the witch.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Pifflesnitch, but I just remembered that Harry here has promised me a number of dances. If we don't start now, I'm afraid I'll make a liar out of him."
"Ho ho!" exclaimed Slughorn, "can't have that, can we, Alberta? You two young people go have some fun. It is a party after all." He then dismissed them with a wave.
Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and led him to the area of the floor where a few other teenaged couples were awkwardly dancing together.
"You really want to dance?" Harry queried with a little bit of panic in his voice.
"Of course," she replied with a smirk. "You did promise after all."
"I did not!"
"Of course you did. It was implied when you asked me to the party. You can't simply ask a girl on a date to a formal party and not expect to dance with her."
"But I…" Harry began to protest.
"Relax, Harry," Hermione responded with a softer smile, "it's only me."
Harry swallowed hard before he took her right hand in his left, placed his other hand on her hip, and then slowly began to wobble with her about the dance floor. He knew that he wasn't a very good dancer; he never had much experience in the area. But Hermione seemed to be enjoying herself if the ear to ear grin on her face was any indication. They slowly danced together for a few songs before Harry broke the silence.
"So, I'm on speaking terms with Ron again."
Hermione looked into his eyes and smiled.
"See, I told you he'd come around. He always does. Did you make him beg?"
"What?"
"I would have made the big berk beg."
"Give the guy a break, Hermione."
"Why should I? He never seems to give me one."
"Ron's just… well… Ron," Harry said with a small amount of exasperation. "You know how he is. We can't hold that against him."
Hermione shook her head at Harry but with a smile.
"You have a good heart, Mr. Potter."
"Do I now?" Harry enquired with a grin.
"Of course you do. I've always liked that about you."
"Really?" said Harry before he decided to get a little playful. "What else do you like about me?"
Hermione, living up to her reputation as the brightest witch of the age, caught on quickly.
"Hmm… it's hard to say, there's not much to pick from, you being so scrawny after all." With that she moved her hand from his shoulder down to his ribs where she gave him a few playful pinches. Her eyes widened a bit in surprise when what she expected to find as mere skin and bone actually turned out to be rather well-muscled.
Harry laughed.
"I didn't stay scrawny for long after Firecam really started working me."
"I'll say," replied Hermione. "What else are you hiding under those robes?"
"Wouldn't you like to find out?"
Hermione's cheeks turned bright pink, but she met him eye to eye nonetheless.
"Maybe."
That ensured that Harry's complexion matched hers rather quickly.
"But back to the topic at hand," began Harry after a few moments of heavy silence with the band playing in the background, "what exactly is it about me that you find to be so handsome?"
"Who says I find you handsome?" Hermione playfully rejoined.
"I do."
"Well, I probably shouldn't tell you now. Wouldn't want you getting a swelled head. Besides, as this is our first date, it's customary for the gentleman to lavish compliments upon the lady, not the other way around."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Didn't you read the rulebook?"
"There's a rulebook for first dates?"
"There's a book for everything! I read it twice, of course, so you can simply trust that I know what I'm talking about, as normal."
"Well then, Miss Granger, according to your rulebook, how am I doing so far?"
"I'd say you're managing to pass… barely"
At her teasing reply, Harry took advantage of the placement of his hand to quickly tickle Hermione's waist. She let out a sharp, high-pitched squeal.
"Stop that!" Hermione exclaimed as she stepped back from her assailant. Harry, however, did not let her out of his grasp.
"I don't think so."
"Harry James Potter, you stop that this instant!"
"Why should I? Does the rulebook say I have to?"
"I'll have you know that it does," she primly replied as she stepped back up to Harry, "paragraph sixteen, subsection four - no tickling without the expressed, written consent of Hermione Granger."
"Well, can't break the rules, now can I?"
"I should hope not! I'll not get mixed up with an unrepentant rule breaker!"
They both had a good laugh at that.
After a few more moments of dancing, Harry asked, "So what does your book say that I should do next?"
Hermione broke eye contact with Harry to glance down at his lips.
"Well," she began as she took a step closer to him, "as this is a date, and as we are dancing… the next logical step would be…"
"Yes?" Harry asked softly as he tilted his head down…
"Well, well, what have we here?" Someone said rather loudly from just beside them causing the two teenagers to jump apart. Harry turned and found himself face to face with one of the last people on earth that he wanted to see.
Rita Skeeter.
Harry and Hermione simply stared at the woman who so callously interrupted their moment. It took Harry a moment to actually realize that this woman was really there. She had the same rhinestone-studded eyeglasses as the last time he saw her, the same elaborate blonde curls that looked like they were plastered on, and the same self-amused smirk that said she would take ineffable joy in tearing a puppy to pieces.
"Well hello there, Harry dear, it's been much too long."
"Rita Skeeter," said Hermione with distain, "what are you doing here?"
"Why, I was invited, of course," replied the Daily Prophet's most notorious reporter. "Sluggy and I are old friends. Isn't that the usual way one arrives at a party?"
When there was no immediate response from the two teenagers, Rita when on talking.
"You know, Harry, our last little interview together proved to be quite the sensation. What do you say the two of us sit down for a little chat this evening?"
"Harry's not interested," Hermione quickly interjected.
Rita only spared the girl a glance before turning back to her main target.
"Do you always let your girlfriend speak for you, Harry?" she asked with some distain.
Harry could feel his temper begin to rise and took interior steps to preserve his calm. Hermione, on the other hand, chose to let her anger color her words.
"I should have never let you out of that jar," replied the indignant witch.
"Ah yes," Rita answered as she brought her attention to bear on Hermione, "I almost forgot how ruthless you could be. Tell me, Harry, how do you think the wizarding world will react when they hear about your girlfriend's darker tendencies?"
"Hermione Granger doesn't have a dark bone in her body," Harry responded, entering the conversation for the first time. "And you can quote me on that."
"Really?" replied the older witch with a grin as an acid-green Quick Quotes Quill floated into view behind Rita's shoulder, hastily scribbling something on a piece of floating parchment. "Tell me, what else do you know about Hermione's body?"
Harry flushed bright red at the implication while Hermione sputtered indignantly.
"Readers want to know, Harry," Skeeter continued. "How exactly did such a plain witch manage to steal your heart? What else did she manage to steal along the way? Do you think that a Muggle-born witch like her is really good enough for the Boy Who Lived? How much convincing did it take for you to fall for her… feminine wiles?"
He might have been bright red and uncertain of the best way to handle this situation, but Harry couldn't just let this woman make such lurid statements about Hermione.
"I'll have you know," Harry began to respond, "that Hermione Granger is the smartest, kindest, and most wonderful witch that I have ever met. She didn't need to convince me in the slightest to fall for her. I just needed to open my eyes for once. And if anything, I'm the one that's not good enough for her!" Harry finished rather emphatically.
Rita was smiling almost gleefully as her quill scrawled out lines and lines of text. Harry turned to see Hermione staring at him with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open.
"What?" Harry asked his seemingly surprised companion, "It's true. And I don't care who knows it!"
Hermione closed her mouth and broke out into a beaming smile. She was just about to say something in return when Rita once again interrupted.
"Harry, dear, what else do you have to give me for our readers?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the reporter for a moment before responding.
"Give them this," she said as she reached out with both hands a grabbed Harry by the sides of his face. She then roughly pulled his head to hers and gave him a long, almost fierce kiss right on the lips.
When she pulled away, Hermione said, "I think I've had enough of this insect, Harry. Let's go." And with that, she grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him away from the dancefloor and the rather jubilant Rita Skeeter. She led the two of them to a secluded corner of the room where they could find a modicum of privacy.
Harry, somewhat in a state of shock, slowly reached up with the hand that wasn't entangled in Hermione's to touch his lips.
"Wow."
Hermione quickly released Harry's hand so that she could bury her face in both of hers. She let out a long groan.
"I can't believe that I did that as our first kiss," Hermione lamented from behind her hands.
"Wow," Harry repeated.
"Oh, honestly, Harry!" said Hermione as she dropped her hands and turned to him fully even though her face was bright red. "It wasn't even that good of a kiss! I did it more to throw it in Rita's face than anything else after what she said about me. I can't believe I did that!"
"I thought it was great!" Harry replied with a smile.
"Boys…" Hermione said in exasperation. After a quiet moment, she shyly glanced up at his green eyes. "You know, because of that stunt I pulled, we're going to be all over the Prophet tomorrow."
"Front page most likely," Harry agreed with a shrug of his shoulders.
"You don't mind?"
"They're going to write about us no matter what we do, aren't they? At least this way maybe they'll get the story right for once."
"You're not mad at me?"
"Nah. I gave Skeeter quite a bit of ammunition myself before your grand finale."
Hermione shook her head slightly.
"You did say some rather nice things about me, didn't you?"
"I only spoke the truth."
"In any event," Hermione said as she brushed some imaginary lint off of Harry's chest, "I think you deserve a reward."
"Do I?"
"What would you like, Mr. Potter?"
Harry simply smiled as he leaned in, closed his eyes and kissed Hermione Granger for the second time. They softly lingered together for a long, blissful moment before they pulled apart.
"Better this time?" Harry asked?
"Much," replied Hermione with a smile. "After all, 'Repetito mater studiorum,' as they say."
"What?"
"It means, 'Repetition is the mother of study.'"
"Well," said Harry, "I suppose we'll need lots of repetition, then."
"Play your cards right…" Hermione replied. "You know how I love to study."
"So, does this mean you're my girlfriend now?"
"Well I should definitely hope so!" Hermione answered with mock indignation. "I'll have you know I don't go around kissing just anybody. I'm not that kind of girl!"
"Ha!" Harry laughed.
"Come on," Hermione said as she once again took Harry's hand and dragged him back into the party. "Let's get some punch."
OoOoO
AN: A few brief selections of text describing the Christmas party were taken from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.
Well, there's another one. And so soon after the last update too! Oh my!
Question: is there anybody out there? I only ask because I've posted two (good, fun IMHO) chapters recently, and I haven't seen a single new review. Maybe Portkey is just on its last legs. Kind of depressing. Maybe not. Prove me wrong!
Anyways, thanks for the reviews! And thanks for reading!