Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 3

Hermione tried to hide her unease as she led Harry by the hand through the shattered corridors of Hogwarts towards the Headmistress' office. Her eyes took in the destruction all around her but her mind was not concerned with the damage to the school; rather it was pre-occupied with what had just occurred in the hospital wing. There was almost too much to take in.

She was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Harry had told her that he loved her. She had thought never to hear him say such words and as a result she was struggling to process what his declaration would mean for them all. She had always liked him; had been attracted to him for as long as she could remember but it was not until she saw what she thought was his dead body being carried by Hagrid that she finally understood exactly what he meant to her.

He meant everything.

At first she had refused to believe the evidence of her own eyes; had shaken her head at his still form and in that moment she felt a part of herself take flight, never to return. Her relief and joy at his "resurrection" almost overwhelmed her but this elation had been short lived. She had realised that there were unresolved issues between them; that unless these issues were dealt with, their friendship might be destroyed forever.

And then, of course, there was Ron.

His reaction had been predictable. She had been about to give him a piece of her mind for speaking of her as if she were a possession of his but he had thwarted her by storming off after a few barbed remarks directed at Harry. She closed her eyes. She hadn't wanted to hurt Ron, but she now knew that he was not the one for her. She had flirted with the idea of Ron; had tormented herself for nearly two years over him and had almost let her selfishness destroy her friendship with Harry. She realised that she had been settling; that she had never expected Harry to return her feelings and so had settled for the next best thing; her other friend.

She grimaced, knowing that she must never - ever - say to Ron that he was the "next best thing." That was the problem, she knew; Ron's inferiority complex - his need to always prove himself better than his friends - would have prevented them from ever having a lasting relationship. There was no doubt that he was a good person but she had seen a side to him these past few years that made her wonder. He hadn't stuck by Harry in fourth year and had walked out on them again during the Horcrux hunt. Harry had made light of it but she knew - deep down - that she would never forgive him for storming off.

She smiled ruefully; thinking of all those nights in the tent when she had cried over him. Except, it had not just been Ron she was crying about. She had also shed tears for Harry; for his complete lack of response to her distress. She knew that she would have to speak to him about it; would have to ask him why he had ignored her tears.

She had a lot to speak to him about, she knew. The problem was that they did not have the time at the moment - there were more pressing matters to deal with. She realised with grim amusement that when dealing with Harry there were always more pressing matters to deal with.

But that was the other thing churning away in her head. His absolutely fantastical story about his death; about freezing time and about Dumbledore coming back to collect him. In almost any other circumstances - indeed; if it had been anyone else - she would have dismissed such a tale out of hand. But it was Harry and she had learned a long time ago that nothing was too improbable when dealing with him. There was also the simple fact that he seemed so certain about everything. She could recognise the truth in his eyes when he spoke and she didn't know what scared her most; the possibility that he was right or the chance that he might be wrong. For if he was right then he was in yet another battle for his life. If he was wrong then they were dealing with some very serious mental issues. Whether or not events transpired as he had related was the least of her concerns; to Harry they were real enough and that was all that mattered.

This was why she had suggested speaking to Dumbledore's portrait. This particular conundrum was so far beyond her knowledge and experience that for once in her life she was intellectually out of her depth. When she had suggested visiting Dumbledore Harry had not demurred; in fact, he had looked faintly amused, almost as if he had known what she was going to propose. She supposed she should be used to that by now; used to the fact that Harry knew her so well, just as she knew him better than he knew himself.

She picked her way through the ruined statues that lay strewn across the corridor and began to climb the stairs. She gave his hand a quick squeeze of reassurance as she climbed before finally opening the door at the top of the stairs.

`Ah! Miss Granger; Mr Potter. I have been expecting you,' said the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

`You have?' she asked, surprised. `You know why we are here?'

Dumbledore laughed. `Yes; but not for any supernatural reason. Minerva has already visited me and has related to me everything that Harry told her. Quite a story!'

`So you don't think it's real?' asked Hermione. `You think it is all happening inside his head?'

She saw that Dumbledore smiled at the remark but didn't see Harry also smile behind her.

`Of course it is happening inside his head, but why on Earth should that mean that it is not real?' replied Dumbledore. Harry laughed.

`Something amuses you, Harry?' asked Dumbledore.

`It's just that this is the second time I have heard you say that today.'

`Really?' asked Albus. `In that case I must get myself some new material. I don't wish to be considered boring.'

`So what does that mean, Headmaster?' asked Hermione, determined to keep them on topic. `Are you saying that there is something wrong with Harry's mind? That it is…weak in some way?'

Dumbledore regarded her solemnly for a few seconds. `My dear girl; you have learned so much and yet you have so much still to learn. Harry has an excellent mind. What you must realise is that a weak mind isn't strong enough to hurt itself. Stupidity has saved many a man from going mad.'

Hermione considered these words. `So you think he is mad?'

Dumbledore laughed heartily. `Do you?'

`Of course not!' she exclaimed.

`I'm glad to hear it,' said Harry dryly. `So what do you think is going on then, sir?'

`I think, Harry, that you are telling the truth. I think that it is entirely possible that everything happened as you say it did - whether the events are in your mind or otherwise. I also think that you will have another…encounter soon enough. It will happen again.'

`How can you be so sure?' asked Hermione.

`Because the issue remains unresolved. From what Minerva tells me, I returned to take Harry with me to the "Other World." Harry refused and I departed to see what could be done. I have no doubt that Harry will be contacted again in due course. No doubt he will be alerted by the smell of treacle tart once again.'

`Yeah! What's all that about?' asked Harry.

`I do not know for sure, Harry. It could mean a number of things. It could be some derangement in your mind or it could be a brief foretaste of the Other World.'

`You think they have treacle tart in the Other World?' asked Harry.

`Why wouldn't they?' replied Dumbledore. `It is a heavenly delight, is it not?'

Harry smiled at the question. `So what do I do now?' he asked.

`I would suggest preparing an argument for remaining here,' replied Dumbledore.

`I already have my argument,' Harry replied.

`And that is?' asked Dumbledore.

`It's standing right next to me,' said Harry as he squeezed Hermione's hand.

Dumbledore beamed at them both. `Excellent! Quite excellent! I am happy for you both.'

Hermione blushed at the remark but ploughed on with the issue at hand. `Is there nothing else we can do?'

`I'm afraid not, Miss Granger. Only Harry can influence how this will pan out. What you must do is give him the reason to carry on here.'

`I can do that,' she said, turning to Harry. `Oh, I can do that all right,' she added softly. She turned back to Dumbledore. `Harry doesn't have to do this by himself.'

**********

Ron Weasley sat on the stairs outside the Great Hall and drew circles in the dust as he stared morosely at the ground. The events of the past 24 hours had deeply affected him and he was struggling to come to terms with everything that had occurred. What had affected him the most was - of course - the death of Fred and he kept pushing thoughts of his brother into the recesses of his mind. He knew there would be a reckoning of grief to come but he was not willing to face that reckoning just yet. Instead, he harboured his own sense of injustice to push the darker thoughts of his brother to one side.

And it is an injustice! He thought to himself. Hermione is supposed to be mine!

He couldn't understand it. He had thought he had finally achieved what he wanted when Hermione had kissed him at the climax of the battle. He'd always had his doubts; had always felt that she preferred Harry and it was not until Harry and Ginny had gotten together last year that he had finally believed he'd had a chance. Not even abandoning Harry and Hermione on the Horcrux hunt had seemed to make a difference. While Hermione had been enraged, her reaction to him during the battle had finally put his mind at ease. He had finally won.

And then everything changed. He didn't know what was going on with Harry at the minute. He thought he would have been able to ignore Harry's declaration of love for Hermione because it was obvious something was affecting his mind; that something more serious was going on. The "appearance" of Dumbledore and the idea that Harry should be dead would have been the real cause for concern, were it not for the fact that Hermione had declared her love for Harry. He didn't know what game was being played at the moment, but he knew he had ended up on the losing side.

Bloody typical!

He heard footsteps approaching but was not minded to see who it was; he just wanted to be left alone to wallow in his misery and resentment.

`Hello, Ronald. That looks like fun; do you mind if I join you?'

Ron glanced up and watched as Luna - without waiting for a response to her question - sat down next to him on the stairs and began doodling in the dust. His initial resentment at her intrusion dissipated as he watched her sketch. It was impossible to harbour ill-feeling towards Luna.

`No; I don't mind. But I don't think I'll be much company for you.'

`That's OK, Ronald. I'll be good enough company for both of us,' Luna replied. She paused for a moment, as if considering something. `I was sorry to hear about your brother. I know what it is to lose someone you love. Is that why you think you will be poor company?'

Ron started at her bluntness but after a moment and despite everything that had happened he found himself smiling at her disarming manner. `Not just that,' he finally managed to say. `It's not just Fred, although he is the main part of it.'

Luna nodded her understanding and Ron found himself getting lost in her eyes. There was wisdom present in her that he had not fully appreciated before now. He knew Harry had always thought there was more to "Loony" than met the eye, but this was the first time he had noticed it.

`I heard about Harry,' Luna finally said. `I heard he had collapsed? Is he OK? Is that what else is bothering you?'

Ron grimaced. `Sort of,' he replied. `I think he's OK - he's awake anyway, so I think he's fine.' He had tried to sound nonchalant as he said this but his voice was more than a little strained. He noticed that Luna was looking at him with a very shrewd look on her face. Somehow, he knew what was coming next.

`Where is Hermione?'

Ron closed his eyes. `With Harry.'

`Ah.'

Ron never knew that so much meaning could be imparted into one syllable. He waited for Luna to elaborate with a patience that was unusual for him and he was not disappointed.

`Ronald? Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?'

`I guess not. Fire away.'

`What is it about Hermione that you are attracted to?'

Ron felt as if he had been smacked in the head. He felt ambushed; of all the things he thought she might ask him, that question had not occurred to him.

`Isn't it obvious?' he finally stammered.

`No, Ronald; it isn't. I know why Harry is attracted to her but I've never really worked out what you like about her. The two of you have virtually nothing in common. Except for Harry, that is.'

`You have spoken to Harry about this?' he asked with more than a hint of reproach in his voice.

`Of course I haven't spoken to Harry about it, Ronald.' She saw his confusion. `You don't have to speak to Harry to know. It's in the way he talks to her; the way he listens to her; the way he accepts her for who she is. The signs are all there if you know where to look,' she added.

`They are?'

`Yes. But I don't see that with you, Ronald. The signs aren't there and I wonder what it is about Hermione that you're really attracted to? Is it her or is it merely the idea of her being your girlfriend?'

`The idea of her being my girlfriend? What are you talking about, Luna?'

Luna sighed. `I'm only saying this to you because I like you so much.' She paused for a moment and looked directly into his eyes. `Has it ever occurred to you that the thing that attracts you to Hermione is the fact that if she chooses you then she doesn't choose Harry?'

`WHAT?!?'

`Think about it, Ronald. I know you love Harry but I also know you feel overshadowed by him. I just wish you would realise that you don't need to beat Harry in order to validate yourself. Love isn't a competition; stop measuring yourself in this way. You are your own man, Ronald, and you are a man worth knowing,' she added. `I wish you could see what I do.'

With these words, Luna stood and continued down the stairs as if nothing had occurred. Only when she reached the bottom did she turn.

`Think about it, Ronald.'

Ron felt a surge of fury at her presumption but as he watched her go he found that he could not sustain it. He could not believe that she had spoken to him so directly and he was still taken aback. And he liked Luna. Really liked her.

He closed his eyes, unsettled and marvelling at her shrewdness, her parting words ringing in his ears.

Think about it, Ronald.

**********

Harry was feeling restless. He stood in the ruined Gryffindor common room and gently poked some of the rubble on the floor with his foot. Despite being reassured by Minerva that Hogwarts would be returned to its former glory, he could not help but feel saddened at the devastation that had been wrought in the battle with Voldemort and his forces. Even here in the common room - his sanctuary for so many years - the destruction had been devastating and almost total. The fireplace was in bits; the furniture strewn across the floor and even some the flagstones underfoot had been rent in two. And yet not all had been destroyed; when he and Hermione had first entered the common room after leaving the Headmistresses' office, both had been struck at the small table in the corner of the room. On it stood a thin vase containing a single red rose - probably placed there by Neville - and it seemed incongruous to him that something so pure, so fragile, should remain untouched when so much had been destroyed all around it.

`How are you feeling, Harry?'

He smiled as he turned to the source of the question. Hermione sat in the only armchair that had escaped the destruction.

`I feel fine. Honestly, I do,' he added as he noticed her eyebrow lift cynically. `I'm still a bit sore from the battle, but mentally, I couldn't be better. I'm just a bit worried about this appeal.'

Hermione made to reply but she was forestalled as the portrait hole swung open and Ron stepped through, a thoughtful expression on his face. He stepped into the middle of the room and regarded his two friends solemnly. For what seemed like an interminable amount of time, no one said anything.

`I'm sorry,' said Ron, finally breaking the silence.

Hermione struggled to contain her shock. Of all the things she expected him to say, that had not been one of them. She had expected an argument; a rant. She had not expected contrition.

`I was being selfish,' continued Ron. `It is always about you, Harry, but I know you don't want or ask for that. And I know too that no one deserves to have to deal with the stuff that comes your way.' He looked at his feet. `I won't pretend that I'm not hurt by what has happened. My feelings for you were real,' he added, finally looking directly at Hermione.

`Were?'

`Yes. I was…encouraged to question my motives,' continued Ron. His face twisted into a tight smile; one that was more like a grimace. `Sometimes you can't see the truth because it's right under your nose. Sometimes you need someone else to make you see that truth. I guess I needed that. I guess I have needed that for a long time.'

Hermione wondered at the change that had come over her friend. `Who was your "someone?"' she asked.

`Luna.'

`Ah.'

Ron smiled broadly at the response, once again struck by the depth of meaning that could be conveyed by that single syllable.

`Yeah. "Ah,"' he repeated. `Look; the short version is that Luna made me realise that I was behaving like an arse. Harry loves you and you love him and there isn't anything I can do about that is there? You are both my friends - my best friends - and while I won't pretend I'm not hurt by this, I'm not going to let it jeopardise our friendship. You two are the best thing to ever happen to me. Besides; Harry is in danger and that is the most important thing we have to deal with.'

Hermione felt tears smart at her eyes and she climbed out of her chair and engulfed Ron in an embrace so tight it nearly squeezed the life from him.

`Thank you,' she whispered into his ear before stepping back and planting a kiss on his cheek.

`Hey! Don't confuse the issue! I thought it was Harry you liked?" Ron exclaimed but he was smiling as he said this.

For his part, Harry approached Ron, his hand outstretched in greeting. `Thanks mate,' he began. `I never meant for this to happen or to hurt you. Are we cool?'

Ron didn't hesitate, taking the offered hand and shaking it firmly. `We're cool, Harry. Of course we are cool.' He paused for a moment. `How are you doing anyway? How are you feeling? Any more visits from dead people?'

Harry smiled despite the seriousness of the situation. `Not yet,' he finally replied. `I'm expecting a visit soon, but I've not heard anything yet.'

Ron shook his head. `I don't know, Harry. Nothing is ever straightforward with you, is it?' There was no malice in the question; just a matter-of-fact appreciation of the truth.

All three turned as the portrait hole swung open again.

`Harry? Are you there?' exclaimed a familiar voice.

Harry grimaced, having hoped to avoid this meeting for a while longer. Ginny.

`Hi, Ginny.'

`HARRY!' she exclaimed as she rushed into the common room and threw her arms around him. Hermione watched carefully, her lips thinning, as Harry awkwardly patted his ex-girlfriend on the shoulder. It was some time before he managed to prise Ginny off him.

`I only just heard you woke up! Why didn't you come and tell me?' she asked, a hint of reproof in her tone.

`I…I had other things to do,' Harry replied. `I needed to speak to Dumbledore's portrait.

`Oh, that's where you have been! I had heard a rumour that Dumbledore had visited you. Nonsense, of course. Was that where the rumour started? Because you visited his portrait?' Ginny was talking with the speed of the Hogwarts Express and it occurred to Hermione that she was nervous about something. What other rumours had she heard?

`Not exactly, Ginny,' Harry replied. `I visited his portrait because Dumbledore did visit me. He told me I was dead.'

Ginny laughed out loud for a few seconds before realising that no one else shared the joke. She stopped abruptly, the silence only further emphasising how out of place her laughter had been at that moment. `You're serious?' she finally asked.

Harry nodded.

`How can you be dead? You look perfectly fine to me.'

`I was supposed to have been collected by Dumbledore after Voldemort died. There was a mix-up and he didn't arrive for two hours. He tried to take me with him but I refused.'

Hermione watched as Ginny struggled to take all of this in. She actually sympathised with her red-haired friend at that moment; this was a lot to take in and the story did seem preposterous. Ginny's brow furrowed as she considered everything.

`If you are supposed to be dead, why didn't Dumbledore take you with him anyway? Why did you have a choice?' Ginny finally asked.

The million galleon question, thought Hermione. It didn't surprise her that Ginny had asked it; no one ever said Ginny was stupid.

Harry took his time before replying. `Because something happened in the borrowed time.'

`What happened?'

`I fell in love,' replied Harry. `And someone fell in love with me.'

Ginny immediately turned and faced Hermione. She had a look on her face that suggested she had just sucked on a dozen lemons, thought Hermione. It was not an attractive look.

`I knew it!' Ginny hissed. `What have you done to him?' she asked accusingly.

Hermione had been expecting a reaction, but was still taken aback by the venom in the question. She wasn't going to stand for Ginny's tone though. She stuck out her jaw.

`Nothing. I didn't do anything to him save tell him I love him,' she said defiantly. `And he loves me and that's all I have to say on the matter. Harry's fighting for his life and we don't have time for petty bickering.'

`Petty bickering?' Ginny was incredulous. `You steal my boyfriend and say it's petty?'

`That's enough, Ginny,' said Ron, softly. Ginny whipped round to face her brother, an incredulous look on her face.

`What? You too? Have you taken leave of your senses? Are you mad? Does this nonsense not bother you?'

`It's not nonsense, Ginny and that's why it does bother me. But there is nothing I can do about it. Hermione loves Harry. Harry loves Hermione. What would you have me do? Use a potion on them?' he asked caustically. Hermione noticed Ginny suddenly redden at this remark but before she could say anything, Ron continued.

`It's about time you grew up, Ginny,' he said sadly. `We don't always get what we want.'

Ginny didn't know how to react. Her eyes flitted from one to the other like a trapped animal. Finally they settled on Harry who has said nothing throughout the entire exchange.

`Is this true? Do you love Hermione? she asked.

`Yes.' One word that said everything.

Ginny gasped. Her body shook in mini-convulsions as she fought back tears. Finally she could contain it no longer and she turned and fled back through the portrait hole. Ron turned to the others, his face grim.

`I'll go after her,' he began. `It's been a tough day,' he added with great understatement, before leaving the common room in pursuit of his sister.

Harry turned to face Hermione, his face betraying his distress. `Are we doing the right thing, Hermione? he asked. `We seem to be hurting everyone we love. Maybe we should…'

`Don't you dare, Harry,' she interrupted. `There is more at stake here than some hurt feelings. I love you and you love me and your survival depends on that - or had you forgotten?' she added, caustically.

Harry closed his eyes. `I know, Hermione. I'm sorry; I didn't quite mean it like that.' He opened his eyes and looked right at her. `I do love you, Hermione. There's no point to my life if I can't be with you. I guess that's why I am so torn. I don't hold out much hope for my prospects of surviving this and part of me wonders what's going to happen to you if I don't.'

`You mustn't think like that, Harry,' she replied softly. She felt tears begin to fall down her cheeks. `You must believe that we will be fine! Nothing else matters, Harry. This isn't about a childish crush; this is about life and death. You have to stop being so pessimistic!'

Harry made to reply but stopped abruptly as he recognised a familiar smell. Oh, no…not now! he implored as the overpowering scent of treacle tart permeated his nostrils.

`What is it Harr-:' Hermione started, before being cut off..

`Damn you, Albus!' Harry exclaimed in frustration. `Why is your timing always so lousy?'

Albus Dumbledore looked nonplussed. `I'm very sorry, Harry, but I have no say in these matters. I had no idea that this wasn't a good time,' he added apologetically.

Harry barely paid him any attention. Instead, his focus was on the woman who stood in front of him, once more frozen in time,

`You could have at least allowed me to say goodbye,' he said softly. `I might never get to speak to her again.'

`I am sorry Monsieur Potter,' said an unfamiliar voice. Harry turned to the source and failed to hide his surprise at facing a man dressed in clothes from the Eighteenth Century.

`And who the hell are you?' he snapped.

`Pardon, mon ami! My name is Celeste, and I am the Recorder sent to collect you.' He took off his hat and sketched a low bow as he said this.

`Collect me? asked Harry, his heart thumping in his chest. `So I am dead? It is official?'

`Non, non , non!' exclaimed Celeste. `You have been granted leave to appeal. I am merely here to take you to your hearing,' he continued.

Harry turned to Dumbledore, hope rising within him. `Really?'

Dumbledore nodded. `Really. The Boss has allowed this owing to the unique nature of your situation. But we must depart; time is short.'

Harry looked at him shrewdly. `How can time be short? I thought you had frozen time?'

Dumbledore had the good grace to look sheepish. `Yes; it is frozen here on Earth, but in the Other World they are waiting for us. We must go.'

`One moment, mon ami,' said Celeste. He approached Hermione and slowly circled her, his eyes taking in every inch of her form. `So this is the young lady who has caused so much…disturbance?' he asked.

`It is,' replied Harry, evenly.

`I can see why you are smitten, monsieur. She is indeed une belle dame!' Celeste smiled. `Come. We must go. They are waiting for us.'

`Wait!' exclaimed Harry. `Give me a moment,' he added quietly. He approached Hermione's still form his eyes drinking in her. Finally he turned to Dumbledore. `Can I kiss her?' he asked quietly.

The old man smiled. `Of course you can, Harry. But she will not feel it.'

`Doesn't matter,' Harry replied. He turned back to Hermione and - after a moment's hesitation - he leaned in and gently kissed her on the lips.

Celeste rolled his eyes. `You British! What is the point of kissing a lady if she does not feel it? To think we were defeated by such philistines!'

Harry ignored him, instead looking at Hermione's still form, her teardrops static on her cheek. He gently touched one with the tip of his finger. `There's proof she has feelings for me,' he said quietly, to no one in particular.

`Of course!' exclaimed Celeste. `There is some of the proof you will need!'

Harry turned to him. `Can I take one?' he asked.

`You are the defendant,' replied Celeste. `You can do what you want. We need something to carry it in,' he continued, his eyes scanning the room. `Ah!' he finally exclaimed.

Harry watched as Celeste approached the small table in the corner of the room, one of the few untouched pieces of furniture remaining. The little Recorder gently lifted the rose from the vase and carefully removed a single petal from the flower.

`Here,' he said to Harry, offering him the petal. `Use this.'

Harry took the offered leaf and turned to Hermione. With exquisite care, he gently slid the petal up her cheek before slipping it under a solitary teardrop. As carefully as he could, he folded the leaf over, capturing the tear within. He stood back from Hermione one last time, his own tears beginning to form.

`I'm ready,' he finally said, turning to Dumbledore and Celeste. `Let's go.'

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