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Suspected Death Eaters Found Not Guilty

Eleven prominent members of the British Magical Society were wrongfully accused of being Death Eaters following a small confrontation last month. These eleven wizards have now been freed and cleared of all charges. Questions are being raised as to why a vigilante group—

Harry scowled and flung the paper across the room, not bothering to read the rest of the stupid article.

Of course, they bloody got off. Not enough that Sirius is dead and Hermione nearly murdered… No, they were simply let go scot-free, without so much as a slap on the hand. 

He hit his fist on the desk in front of him, hard. 

The pain caused him to wince and he sighed, I should’ve listened to Hermione… She’s right. I do have a ‘saving-people thing.’ If only I had listened, none of this shit would’ve happened.

He slouched backwards in his seat with a small chuckle, What am I saying, she’s almost always right... But she’s been wrong before, such as over my Firebolt… but her reasoning was perfectly justified. He knocked his head onto the desk, I’ll never forgive myself for that. Shunning her for months on end… when all she was trying to do was protect me.

Harry groaned in pain and took off his glasses before running his hands over his face. The guilt over what happened in the Department of Mysteries hit him once again. It had been happening frequently over the last month.

He couldn’t help but blame himself for everything that happened that night.

If only he’d learned Occlumency like he was supposed to; listened to Hermione and realised it was a trap; or trained harder, instead of teaching others basic spells which would prove little help in a real fight.

And what was it all for?

Nothing! he thought furiously, hitting the desk painfully hard with his fist.

“It was all for fucking nothing,” spat Harry venomously under his breath.

For all they’d achieved, was a pointless loss of life, while also giving mental and physical scars to others.

For he had lost Sirius… One of the last links to his family. Sirius, who had grown up with his parents and their friends and knew his father better than anyone else. It was so nice to have someone else to be his guardian, who wasn’t the Durselys. Someone who didn’t expect him to work till he dropped... Someone who loved him unconditionally. 

But now he was gone. The only person who he thought had tried to show him ‘love,’ was gone, by a simple curse that threw him into the ‘Veil.’ Which left him without his body, his godfatherly love and him without a family… again.

When Sirius offered him the chance to live with him back in third year, it had filled him with so much hope, that when Wormtail escaped that night, he was so angry he could have ripped the rat limb from limb in human form. Despite his godfather being a fugitive, his hope of finally having a loving family, even if it was just him and Sirius, was kept alive while Sirius was around. And now, even that hope had been violently killed along with Sirius.

Family .

It seemed as though family was a concept that Harry Potter, the famous ‘Boy-Who-Lived,’ did not deserve. For it had always been taken away from him. First by Voldemort, and now Bellatrix.

But he had realised with time, that the blame didn’t lie solely on him.

“Dumbledore,” spat Harry with distaste. The raven-haired teen had done a lot of thinking over the last month. And it wasn’t just the Dursleys who were neglecting him, so too was Dumbledore.

He had never fully thought about it at first, too engrossed with the wizarding world and the escape that it offered.

But he now knew better, Dumbledore was the reason he was sent to the Dursleys. Dumbledore was the reason Quirrelmort was hired as a teacher. Dumbledore was the reason nothing was done about the Basilisk and likely why the professionals were never involved.

Hell, Dumbledore was probably the reason his parents were killed in the first place.

Heck, every year, he had to go on some ‘adventure,’ because of the old bastard’s negligence and incompetence… or maybe even his manipulations.

Harry shook his head in frustration, it would be better to discuss this with another person before making such assumptions. And the only person that came to mind was Hermione.

Hermione.

He started to sniffle and tear up. He wasn’t one to let his emotions out, let alone, show them to others. But here he was, beginning to sob. 

For there was only one thing worse than Sirius dying that night, and that was Hermione bearly escaping death.

He couldn’t comprehend the feelings that went through him when Dolohov silently shot that purple curse at his best friend.

When it had happened, it was as if the world had frozen and everything had stopped.

Everything else was out of focus, except Hermione and the purple light headed towards her. And when the spell splashed across her chest and she let out a simple, ‘oh,’ it was as if someone had torn his heart out. Like there was anything inside his body but pure and terrifying emptiness.

He’d almost gone into a panic attack right then and there. And if he wasn't fretting over Hermione's state at that moment, he might’ve attempted his first Killing Curse on Dolohov right there and then, damn the consequences.

But then Neville had told him that she had a pulse, albeit faint, and that she was still alive. That had awoken a spark of life in him, something which moments beforehand, he had thought impossible.

He would apologise, profusely, constantly, every single day until he was satisfied that she understood how truly sorry he was. 

Or at least until she demands I stop , thought Harry amused.

His mood turned sombre again as he remembered Hermione's injuries after the incident. She had been in a constant state of pain. Because of her silencing spell, they weren't able to hear the incantation of Dolohov's curse. The spell wasn’t something they had previously studied, in fact, no one had ever seen anything like it, which obviously didn’t help his mental state nor Hermione’s physical one.

Watching her writhe in pain may have felt worse than when he was being prepared for Voldemort’s ritual in fourth year. He may not have been experiencing physical pain when watching Hermione, but it certainly felt like it. And he had wished with all his magic that he could take her pain away to stop her suffering due to his idiocy.

But she had recovered, thankfully. While she had told everyone she was fine and that it wasn’t his fault, her eyes told another story. He didn’t have a chance to apologise to her before he had to leave for Privet Drive. 

His worst fear was that she resented him, blamed him, and hated him…

Why wouldn’t she? It seems to be the fate of everyone who’s claimed to love, care for, or be there for me. Mum, Dad, Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, Ron… Hermione.

But maybe that was for the best… If she hated him, she wouldn’t try to help him in his futile fight against Voldemort—the one battle that seemed to depend completely on him, and him alone.

He supposed that one good thing had come out of the DoM disaster—he finally learned the contents of a prophecy concerning both him and Voldemort. 

But was that really good thing? All the stupid prophecy had said, was that he—weak, young, and skinny Harry—was destined to defeat the Dark Lord, for ‘ neither can live while the other survives. ’

Now isn’t that a wonderful statement, mused Harry miserably.

But even that ended him right back at ‘old fool’ as he had now deemed him. The entire DoM venture could’ve been avoided if Dumbledore had done any number of things. One, made it so he didn’t take responsibility for the DA, Which was a plain stupid idea.

Two he should’ve had someone else be there at the OotP headquarters, instead of just Kreacher and Sirius. Seriously, what was he thinking leaving Sirius all alone in that grim old house? He’d already been alone for twelve years of his life stuck in Azkaban for a crime he never committed. Only to be a prisoner again in a house that he hated!

It was little wonder as to why Sirius acted so carelessly and recklessly that night at the Ministry. He had been stuck in that stupid home for months on end, of course, he’d want to have some fun when fighting.

Harry clenched his jaw as anger began to gather towards Sirius. As much as he loved his godfather, Sirius shared some of the blame. But Harry willed those thoughts away, only two people were to blame; him and Dumbledore or Cunt, as he called him when he was particularly annoyed.

But he was furious at Dumbledore for the third reason the most. The Headmaster had not only known there was a prophecy but its contents as well and had decided not to share it with him for the longest time… but why? Some bullshit reason about me not being old enough, and for me to have a normal childhood. If it was my destiny to kill Voldemort or die trying, don’t you think I should’ve known?! And what childhood? I never had a proper childhood, to begin with. Normal children aren’t neglected by their ‘guardians.’

He realized he could have spent his first four years of school actually studying and learning of ways how to defeat the Dark Lord, rather than lazing around, procrastinating, chasing shallow girls, or playing Quidditch and chess with Ron.

He had squandered the first five years of his life trying to course through life as an average student when he could have been more. He had let Ron influence him to be a mediocre student while ignoring Hermione, who tried to get him to be the best that he could be by doing his best in his studies. Harry knew himself enough to admit that he could do more, push himself more. It shamed him that he dismissed Hermione and her bookish ways the way Ron always did, when in fact, he would not have lasted this long if it weren’t for her well of knowledge.

Growing up with the Dursleys certainly didn’t encourage he did well in school. In fact, he got punished whenever he got a better score than Dudley did. Thus, he was conditioned to dumb himself down.

Witnessing Ron ridicule Hermione for being bookish and studious reminded him too much of his younger years, that he intentionally put in little effort to his work. But now, he knew what he had to do, what he should have done since day one. He would take a page out of Hermione’s book and put himself into improving and bettering himself. So he could also be worthy in her eyes.

He was taken away from his thoughts when there was a small tapping on the window.

Curious, Harry got up from his seat and moved towards the window, where a plain brown owl, was trying to get in.

Only the owl wasn’t completely empty-handed. Tied to its leg was an envelope. 

He held his breath in, secretly hoping that it was a letter from Hermione.

Harry opened the window, letting the brown owl in, before quickly removing said letter. But upon opening the envelope he was only disappointed.

Not only was it not from Hermione, but instead from the person he least wanted to talk to.

Fucking Dumble — no... Fucking Cunt.

And the contents of the letter only made him feel more annoyed. The old fool said he was coming to ‘collect’ him on Friday and send him to the Burrow. 

Now that his eyes were open he realised something he had always overlooked. It was an order, a demand. In no way could one interpret the words as a question or request. He basically said ‘You’re going to the Burrow.’ On what authority did he plan to do that?

He grimaced at that. Truthfully, he didn’t really like the idea all that much. Since things here at Privet Drive were better than usual after he’d literally told his ‘relatives’ to ‘Fuck off.’ Though it might’ve helped that he had held his wand in a threatening manner at them while he said this.

And the prospect of seeing Ron and Ginny was not all that thrilling. Especially considering the typical environment of the Burrow, which could only be described as chaotic and stifling.

He just wanted peace and quiet. He needed time to grieve, to reflect and to begin studying. If he ended up at the Burrow, he wouldn’t get anything productive done. Instead, all they’d do would be chores and Quidditch. Something he hadn’t missed as much as he’d thought over the last two years.

He mused that he simply preferred flying, being free and at peace. Quidditch was just a bi-product of his exceptional flying skills.

But what was he supposed to do? He had no choice but to go with Dumbledore. Sure, he could try to fight to get his way, but the Headmaster was supposed to be the greatest wizard of the century, what chance did he stand? And if he didn’t have a chance against Dumbledore he’d most certainly be obliterated by Voldemort.

Harry groaned in frustration, This is all so stupid. Why should I even bother doing anything? My whole life is controlled by others and the public’s expectations. Why does no-one understand, I just want to be left alone?!

He vented out his anger by scrunching up Dumbledore’s stupid note and throwing it onto the ground before stomping on it multiple times. And then threw it across the room, not giving a shit about the mess he had added to his room.

He really wished he was able to use his wand, so he could start smashing stuff, but alas, the nonsensical underage law deterred him from doing such a thing. 

How exactly the Ministry observed underage magic, was a mystery to Harry. Dobby’s use of magic in 1992, caused him to be blamed for using magic, which made little sense considering others had used magic in Privet Drive without the same consequences. 

He ran his hands over his face again, frustrated with today’s turn of events. Within a week he’d end up in the Burrow… something he currently dreaded. 

He had to think of a way not to be picked up by Dumbledore and be brought to the Burrow. He laid on his bed, exhausted from the myriad of emotions and anger he had been feeling all day. He would find a way to escape Dumbledore and the Weasleys, but first, he needed to talk to Hermione.

The sun shined in through his window and his eyes groggily opened. He clumsily put on his glasses before sighing and staring at the ceiling.

It was Wednesday, two days to his set date to be collected by Dumbledore.

Fucking hell… he thought miserably.

He didn’t want to get up, he just wanted to sleep all day, like a normal teenager would in the holidays. 

But then he imagined Hermione’s voice berating him, ‘Harry, instead of wallowing in your guilt all day, why don’t you go and do that homework you’ve been assigned over the holidays. You know I’ll appreciate it.’

But will you? said his own voice, still worried over what Hermione’s reaction to him will be. Leaving Privet Drive also meant that he might encounter Hermione at the Burrow, where privacy was a joke. 

If he was to talk to Hermione, he’d do it in private, where he could apologise and began showing he appreciated her, as he should have for the last five years. 

For five years he had taken their friendship for granted. After saving her from the Troll, she’d had saved him from death, more times than he could remember. And she took nothing in return, instead, just putting up with him, Quidditch, and Ron’s unkind comments. 

And for the last two years, their friendship had grown immensely. Never before had the two spent so much time together, especially in the weeks following the ‘Choosing of the Champions.’ While the whole school had shunned him—believing he was a cheat—Hermione didn’t even bat an eye. She believed him when he said he didn’t put his name in the Goblet of Fire without question. And she stood by him even when his own best friend had scorned him for something he didn’t even do. He would have thought that after years of friendship, Ron would have known by then, that Harry despised his fame and attention.

And working with her in the DA made him realise just how well both of them worked together. Teaching seemed almost natural to him, but if it wasn’t for Hermione guiding and helping him with the lesson plans, he would’ve failed horribly.

I need to talk to her, and I need to do it soon.

But it seemed as though some deity heard his thoughts because a loud, ‘Pop’ sounded right in front of him. 

He took his gaze away from the ceiling and looked towards the disturbance. He had to blink his eyes in confusion a few times before confirming that what was in front of him, was indeed real.

There was no denying it, not with those large floppy ears and massive eyes to which he could only associate with one particular elf; Dobby. 

“Master Harry Potter!” Exclaimed the excited elf.

“Dobby, it’s nice to see you, but could you please be a little quieter? I’d rather not wake up my relatives,” told Harry.

He nodded enthusiastically in response, “Of course, Harry Potter, sir. Anything for you.”

Harry smiled grimly at Dobby, “Thanks. Um… now, why are you here, my friend?”

Dobby’s eyes widened if that was even possible and he replied, “Oh! Miss Miney sent me to check up on you. She be very worried.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion at that, Why would Hermione send Dobby to check up on me? Why would she be worried about me if she hated me? Maybe… Maybe she doesn’t hate me. He let that thought linger.

“Hermione is worried about me?” asked Harry hesitantly. 

Dobby didn’t seem to notice anything about his wary delivery so replied by nodding his head furiously. “Yes, yes! Miss Miney was very angry over the Daily Prophet the other day. She calls me and gave me a letter for you.”

From what Harry could gather from his little friend, Hermione was just as mad as him over the release of the eleven death eaters. And she has a letter for me? Perhaps not everything is lost .

He looked at Dobby who was simply staring at him with wide eyes, obviously waiting for him to respond.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and asked, “Uh—so do you have a letter for me?”

“Oh!” cried Dobby, “Me’s forgot… sorry Mr Potter, sir!” And handed over an envelope to him, while looking on the verge of tears.

Harry fixed Dobby with a strong gaze, “Hey, Dobby. You did good, alright. You did everything right. Thank you.”

The elf began to tear up. “Does sir really mean that?” asked Dobby in a fearful voice.

“Yes, he does,” replied Harry while giving a small smile.

Dobby responded with a massive grin, and jumped onto Harry’s bed, looking at his legs as he dangled them over the side.

Assuming this meant that Dobby was staying and wanted him to read Hermione’s letter, he did just that.

He steeled himself, preparing for whatever was in the letter.

Dear Harry,

Hey, you. I know right now you’re wallowing away in your guilt, but I implore you to stop. I know being with your ‘relatives’ doesn’t make it any easier but you can’t take all the blame, Harry. Others were at much more fault than you and I’d like to further discuss this with you.

I sent Dobby to deliver the letter as I thought that even the Order wouldn’t factor in Wards which would stop House Elves from entering Privet Drive, which gives us a flawless mode of communication. 

But I have a better idea.

If Dobby can enter your ‘home,’ then he can also transport you out. So, that’s why you’re going to meet me at my favourite coffee shop in London today at 9AM. 

While Dobby was very enthusiastic about this task, he seemed very fearful of my other request; to pour cold water on your head if you weren’t up yet — knowing how long you teenage boys take to get up.

Anyway, see you at nine, 

Love Hermione

P.S. Harry, I still do and always shall stand by you, never forget that.

The raven-haired teen put down the letter slowly onto his bed as tears began to flow out of his eyes.

But these weren’t tears of sadness, of guilt, or despair. But tears of joy.

Hermione wants to meet me. And is even going behind Dumbledore’s stupid Order’s back. Crap, what’s the time now?

He flicked his gaze to his bedside table, which had his watch atop of it.

The time read quarter-past-eight. Meaning he had approximately 45 minutes to get ready and meet with Hermione.

But even though Hermione had practically ordered Harry to meet her, he didn’t find that he cared in the least.

Unlike Dumbledore, instead of feeling forced or like a pawn, it felt right . Hermione knew that sometimes the only way to ‘get his mind off of his guilt’ was to make decisive decisions for him. Such as this rushed meeting between the two of them.

Not that he was opposed to it, mind you. In fact, it proved the perfect opportunity to talk to her. 

The chances of any Order members being wherever Hermione’s favourite coffee shop was slim at best. Voldemort’s Death Eaters would have an even smaller chance.

For most wizards saw themselves as superior to Muggles, but both Harry and Hermione knew better. So blending into the Muggle World would be easy, and it’d be unlikely anyone would be able to find them.

He quickly had a shower, got dressed and brushed his teeth before looking at himself in the mirror.

He frowned at his reflection, he had tried to tame the mess of his hair but was largely unsuccessful. Oh well, just another thing I share with Hermione, our untamable hair.

He was also wearing some of his cousin’s old clothes, which didn’t give him a very nice look. Perhaps I can trade some galleons with Hermione for pounds and ask her to buy some proper clothes with me.

Deciding he’d do that, he collected a sack of galleons and addressed Dobby, “Alright Dobby, I’m ready to meet Hermione.”

The little elf practically skipped over to Harry before taking his hand and transporting them all the way to a secluded alleyway in London.

It took him a few moments to gather his bearings, having never been transported by a house-elf before. 

“Miss Miney say that was her coffee shop over there,” commented Dobby while pointing his small finger at a shop across the street. 

The little elf seemed sad and looked down, “Dobby needs to return back to Hogwarts before Headmaster sees I’s gone.”

Harry smiled at the elf, hoping to cheer up his friend. “Thank you, Dobby—for everything.”

“No, thank you , Master Harry Potter,” exclaimed Dobby and before he had a chance to reply, the elf disappeared with a loud ‘Crack.’

He cautiously left the alleyway and looked right, then left before crossing the road swiftly. 

It didn’t take long to spot Hermione, her bushy mane obvious to him at first sight. She was sitting outside the shop, reading something and occasionally looking around her.

As Harry came closer, it didn’t take her long to catch his gaze and once she did, she quickly got off her seat and met him halfway with a big hug. 

This surprised him, causing him to tense in her arms. Then it felt like his whole body collapsed into her hold. If he could define where ‘home’ was right now, it’d be Hermione. Truthfully, the only person whose hugs he could tolerate and accept was Hermione. No one else felt so comfortable, so right .

He didn’t exactly know why this was, but he mused it must be because he’d spent so much time with Hermione alone. More so than anyone else who’d hugged him.

It seemed like an eternity before they separated, not that it was unpleasant. She gave him a small smile and she said in a hushed tone, “Hello, Harry.”

“Hey, Hermione,” he responded softly with a smile.

His best friend’s eyes brightened slightly, then seemed to look down his body, causing her to make a ‘tsk’ sound and her face morphed into one of disapproval.

This made him feel disappointed in himself, even if it wasn’t his fault for his current state of dress.

Taking the chance, he decided to look at Hermione closer.

She was wearing every day Muggle clothes, which were a lot more revealing than any of her school robes. Harry found his sight lingering far longer than was platonically acceptable and attempted to subtly turn his gaze back to Hermione’s eyes.

The sight of her made his body heat up in ways he had never felt around her.

“I can’t believe your relatives have never bought you clothes,” mumbled Hermione with a tinge of aggressiveness.

The fact she was angry with the Dursleys strangely warmed his heart. He frowned slightly, “They never have and probably never will. At least they left me alone this summer.”

Hermione shook her head and looked at him piercingly, “Harry you shouldn’t defend them in any capacity. From what I’ve seen and gathered for myself they outright neglect you. Every child should have their own clothes.” She paused for a moment, so she could take a deep breath in before saying seriously, “And you should not have been left alone. I know you’re blaming yourself right now, and you shouldn’t and won’t from now on. You can’t take responsibility for everything, else you’ll explode. And if you insist on doing so—share the burden with me, Harry. You’re not alone in this.”

Harry was gobsmacked at his best friend. Out of everything she could’ve said he didn’t realise that she knew him and understood him so well. Furthermore, she most certainly did not hate him, if anything she was trying to ease his problems, His! She was the one who nearly died, not me. Yet her loyalty seemed to be unwavering and her friendship infallible.

“Harry?” called out Hermione, and when he looked at her face she looked worried. “You seem to get lost in your own world there… did you hear what I said?”

“I heard what you said… but—” started Harry.

Hermione interrupted, “No buts, Harry.” She fixed him with a serious gaze, “I’m here,” and brought him into another hug to prove her point. 

He mused, It really does feel like she’s here for me. 

After enjoying the hug for a few moments more, he separated from her hold, but then she grabbed his hand and dragged him off in the direction of the street. “Come on, Harry.”

He was seriously confused. “What are you doing Hermione?” asked Harry, flabbergasted. “I thought that we were going to sit down and talk here at your favourite coffee shop.”

“We were, but I’ve got a better idea,” she replied cryptically as she steered him onto the footpath, and off to the right.

Another idea? wondered Harry amused, She can never stop can she? But her ideas are hardly ever bad, and I trust her.

“And where on Earth are we going?” asked Harry, now following Hermione’s lead without resistance.

“For a walk,” she replied simply.

“A walk?”

Hermione briefly looked over her shoulder and smiled shyly at him, “I think it’d be best for you to get out and enjoy the outdoors since I doubt you’ve left your relative’s house, have you?”

He gave her a sheepish smile, “You’re right of course,” and rolled his eyes in amusement. “Okay, well go on your walk.”

Hermione grinned at him, “Great!” And the duo continued on, giving Harry some time to think to himself.

She knows me so well… and yet I feel like I know nothing about her. How I assumed she would react was completely wrong. How is that possible? Am I really so ignorant and unobservant that I thought she’d leave me? 

He looked at the girl in question, who was still holding his hand and walking a step ahead of him at a leisurely pace. She looked so at peace, happy and calm. Hermione was also wearing a genuine smile on her face, something he didn’t see all that often.

He wondered why this was, but couldn’t come to a definitive conclusion.

The more he thought of how he’d been so wrong about Hermione, the more he realised he was putting others first, over her. When he was thinking about her resenting, or hating him, he used past experiences to influence his assumption. Mainly experiences with his other best friend, Ron.

His best friend who had left him back in fourth year because of his insecurities and jealousy. Ron was his first friend, the person he hung out with the most… yet he was unable to believe that Harry, a person who hated fame and danger hadn’t put his name in the Goblet of Fire. 

It was a cutting blow to Harry, and if it wasn’t for Hermione he would’ve most certainly fallen into a severe depression. The fact that Ron had betrayed his trust and friendship had largely been forgotten by Harry following his apology after the first task. 

I mean he did apologise, right?

‘But did he?’ said another voice, causing Harry to remember the exact words Ron had said to him.

"I reckon someone’s trying to do you in Harry!" 

That’s it? He wondered, Surely there was more to it than that . And he thought and thought, but no, that was it. That was all his best friend had said, and they had gone back to being best buddies.

That’s just how Ron apologises to people, Harry told himself. But he knew deep down, that wasn’t acceptable. That was a half-arsed attempt at an apology if one at all, in fact, he had trouble remembering Ron apologising sincerely… Ever!

Without a second thought, Ron had become his best friend again, and he once again drifted away from Hermione, barely spending any time with her, in favour of his red-haired friend. Even when his bushy-haired friend offered him help with the Tournament he waved her off, preferring to procrastinate.

And then the Yule ball happened, instead of doing what he should’ve from the start and asking Hermione to be his date, he had followed Ron’s line of thinking. About getting the ‘prettiest’ girl to be their date.

God, I was so stupid back then — well I still am, he admitted to himself .

His time in isolation at Privet Drive, had Harry’s mind drifting to the topic of girls. In the past, he had shared Ron’s perspective that the only thing that mattered in a girl was their looks. But he realised that was seriously shallow and a terrible thing to be the basis for a relationship. 

The only girl he had dated in the past was Cho, which ended in a disaster. And he found that the main reason he liked her and pursued her was because of her looks. Besides that, Harry found little to no reasons as to why Cho would’ve ever been an appropriate girlfriend, considering the only other thing they shared in common was Quidditch. They had never talked about their past, common interests or really talked at all. 

And he most definitely did not want to be treated like some sort of hero, which he felt like Cho had done. He didn’t think of himself as a hero, and didn’t want a girlfriend to only see him as the famous ‘Boy Who Lived.’ He wanted someone who would care and love him; Harry Potter. The boy who lived in a cupboard for 10 years of his life. The child who had unreasonable responsibilities thrust upon him. A person dearly in need of love.

But alas, Harry knew no one who would possibly do that… But, maybe there was one person, someone who he had on his mind a lot more these days.

That night at the Yule Ball, Hermione looked… Well, Harry didn’t know how to explain how she looked. She was spectacular, stunning, striking and completely and utterly beautiful. Hermione had always been a natural beauty, but when she went all out that night and showed up looking like that , he had never regretted anything so much in his life. It wasn’t just her looks either, it was Hermione , his best friend, smart, caring, and loving Hermione.

And then Ron had attacked her for going to the Ball with Krum, and ‘siding with the enemy.’ He had foolishly agreed at the time, and in effect, both of them had ruined her night. Something which she had seemed to be enjoying immensely. And if he had to be truthful to himself, he was more than slightly jealous she wasn’t his date.

Yet, again and again, he had taken Ron’s side against Hermione in nearly every situation. Something, which now he acknowledged made him feel even more guilt.

Granted, Ron often sided with him as well, but he didn’t want a Crabbe and Goyle to just follow him around without question, something which Hermione didn’t do. And something he was glad for. Her arguments often had compelling and valid evidence, such as the ‘Firebolt incident,’ sneaking out when a criminal was on the loose and the vision of Sirius being tortured.

Yet he always pushed her aside.

Every argument, the trio had he sided with his male friend, probably due to Ron being his first friend. Yet time had proved, Hermione was more loyal, more trustworthy, more interested in keeping him safe, rather than having fun. 

For losing his firebolt to McGonagall, was heartbreaking to Harry, and he did indeed feel betrayed by Hermione, but he shouldn’t have felt like that. Ron had escalated the incident, and unconsciously Harry had sided with Ron, even though he knew, had Hermione discussed the potential dangers of a top of the line broomstick being sent to him by an anonymous sender, he would’ve accepted her reasoning, albeit hesitantly. 

And then Scabbers had disappeared, and Ron had accused Crookshanks, something which had evidence supporting so. Though he should’ve really listened to both sides of the argument, and even if he didn’t believe that Hermione’s cat was innocent, he shouldn’t have shunned Hermione as he and Ron had for months. While they had both been goofing around, his other best friend was working her arse off trying to save Buckbeak and probably feeling extremely lonely, having no one but Hagrid all that time.

His expression fell, Just how many times have I neglected my friendship to her?

Hermione must’ve noticed something because she gripped his hand tighter causing him to snap back to reality.

“What’s bothering you?” she asked with a shy smile as they walked beside a fence line of a park.

“Just remembering some things.”

“I take it they aren’t very good memories.”

“No, you’re right. They aren’t,” he admitted sadly.

“Want to share them? I’ve been told I’m a great listener,” she asked softly.

He debated with himself for a few moments, as Hermione steered them into the park.

He made up his mind and told her, “I was thinking about how bad of a friend I’ve been to you.”

This instantly caught her attention, “Harry what—no, you’re a great fr—”

But he interrupted her, “Hermione please let me finish,” and gave a smile.

She mumbled a soft, “Sorry.”

“I have been a bad friend, there’s no denying it.” He raised an eyebrow at the silent protest on her face and continued, “Don’t believe me? Well, I’ll explain. In third year, I was a terrible friend, I shunned you and ignored you for six months over two insignificant incidents, the Firebolt and Scabbers’ disappearance. Leaving you to help Hagrid and Buckbeak alone.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself, “Harry, no. I was in the wrong, I should’ve told you about informing McGonagall and…” She looked down shamefully before continuing, “Don’t tell Ron, but I also thought that Crookshanks ate Scabbers. All the evidence pointed towards it, but I couldn’t help defend my cat, there was no way I would’ve got rid of him.”

“But Hermione you weren’t in the wrong,” informed Harry. “You were right about the Firebolt. Sure it wasn’t dangerous, but it was from Sirius, an escaped convict at the time. And Crookshanks didn’t eat Scabbers, as we both know. Just like you were right about the vision I had of Sirius. It was a trap and if I had listened to you, you wouldn’t have nearly died.”

“Harry, don’t worry about that. I chose to follow you, I chose to help you, I chose you as my friend. Everyone has their lows in friendships. You’ve chosen examples that reflect this, we’ve also had many good times together. Don’t forget those.”

And he didn’t, he looked back at those memories, especially the times it was just the two of them in the library in fourth year. He couldn’t pinpoint why he lingered on these particular memories but was taken from his thoughts when Hermione continued.

“And you’re a much better friend to me than Ron.”

His face went grim at that. “And that’s another thing I should apologise about, Ron.”

Hermione angrily replied, “Harry, don’t defend him. You can’t apologise for his actions, they’re his and his alone.”

He waved his free hand, in an attempt to calm her down. “That’s not what I mean Hermione…” She looked at him expectantly,  “I’m sorry I never stopped him from ridiculing you or joking about you. He hasn’t stopped doing it since we first met, and yet I’ve let him have his way.” He looked at her seriously,  “So for that, I’m sorry. I won’t tolerate it any longer.”

Hermione’s face was beaming with happiness, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Thank you, Harry.”

“You’re my best friend too Hermione, it’s about time I remember that.”

The duo continued their walk around the park, and Harry took the chance to simply take in the sights.

Hermione truly had chosen a wonderful place for their walk, it wasn’t over the top or bland, but pretty, peaceful. Exactly the environment he wanted to be in right now.

And he looked down at their still joined hands. They hadn’t been apart since the coffee shop, and he found he enjoyed the feel of her soft hands, so made no attempt to disjoin them. Neither did she.

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Why did you order Dobby to take me to London? I thought you would never order an elf to do anything.”

She looked scandalised, “I did no such thing. I paid him, I would never order Dobby like a slave.”

“Paid him? What did you give him, I doubt he has many uses for Galleons.”

“Galleons? No of course not. I’m knitting him socks, with the most vibrant colours.”

He grinned at her, “Ahh—Dobby would indeed love those.”

Love. 

Something Harry lacked at the current moment. Sirius was gone, his parents were gone. Hermione was—Hermione was right here.

Hermione looked at him with a soft expression, “Is there something else bothering you?”

‘Is there something else bothering me?’ thought Harry bitterly. There are a million things bothering me and I don’t think I shoul —

Hermione pinched him sharply, causing Harry to jump in pain.

“Hermione!” Exclaimed Harry, glaring at the witch. He quickly realised what he was doing and looked at her nervously, but she wasn’t cowering or crying and instead was glaring right back at him.

“I know there’s something bothering you. Don’t lie to me, just let out everything, Harry. Stop hesitating and tell me. I can handle whatever it is,” said Hermione sharply.

He was angry to be sure, but not at Hermione. And her encouragement must’ve been enough to tilt him over the edge as the next thing he knew he was ranting, 

“Fine! You want me to tell you everything?! I’ll bloody tell you everything. I’m furious at Voldemort, Umbitch, Malfoy, Bellatrix, Sirius, myself and fucking Dumbledore!”

Hermione asked calmly, “And why are you furious at them, Harry?”

“Cause they’ve all fucking ruined my life! I can never seem to catch a break. It seems at every turn, something bad happens to me. We had Quirrelmort in first year, Basilisk and Riddle’s diary in second year. An escaped convict who was actually innocent and my godfather in third year. Fourth year, had that stupid bloody tournament that I was forcibly entered into and then we had the debacle of fifth year.”

“And it seems like death follows me everywhere, Cedric died, Sirius...” He then softened his voice and added,  “And you came close to it as well.”

She squeezed his hand, “Harry, I already told you: I chose to go with you knowing it was likely a trap.”

“I know, but it doesn’t stop me feeling responsible.”

Hermione smiled at him reassuringly, “Now Harry, do you mind explaining why you’re so angry at the Headmaster? I thought you looked up to him.”

Harry made an irritated sound and replied annoyed, “That was before I learned I’ve been a pawn of his my whole life.”

This worried Hermione. “What do you mean?”

“The Cunt was the reason I was sent to the Dursleys,” he replied bitterly.

Hermione made a motion to tell him off for his language but refrained from doing so. She instead asked, “Dumbledore was the one who made you live at the Dursleys?”

“Yes! Because apparently, I’d be ‘safe,’” he replied and snorted.

Hermione’s face morphed three times; first to shock, then to confusion and lastly to pure anger. “I’m going to kill that man!” she cried.

He sighed, “And that’s not all…”

“What else?!” she demanded now furious.

Ironically, now Harry was calmer than Hermione.

“Remember the first year traps we had to get past?” When she nodded her head he continued, “Well did you ever notice that they were designed exactly for us. I mean, what kind of obstacle is a giant chess set, unless it was a trap designed for a certain chess prodigy, Ronald Weasley?”

Hermione looked as though she was pondering what he had said and eventually replied, “And I’m assuming the first trap was for Neville?”

“That’s my assumption as well. And beforehand he had caught me looking into the ‘Mirror of Erised’ and told me about it, which in turn allowed me to get the stone before Voldemort.”

He then went on to tell her about second year, Dumbledore somehow not noticing a giant snake moving around the school, third year, his refusal to help Sirius. Fourth year, and his ‘inability’ to get him out of the tournament. Fifth year, taking responsibility for the DA and also told her about the prophecy.

Her eyes had widened as he finished the last line. 

“Oh, Harry,” she said softly with a sympathetic face and brought him into one of her signature, bone-crushing hugs. 

He relaxed into it and could feel the emotion Hermione was conveying to him.

“Do you feel better now?” she asked as they separated.

“Yes—thanks for listening to me, Hermione,” he replied.

“Anytime, I’ll always be here.”

They walked in silence for a few comfortable minutes, then suddenly Hermione asked, “So what are you going to do?” 

This question was unexpected to Harry, so he thought for a few moments before replying with conviction, “I’m going to defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters at any cost. Without the help of Dumbledore and his stupid ‘Order.’” 

“Do you want any help?”

He furrowed his brows and looked at her, “What do you mean?”

Hermione punched him lightly on the arm, “You prat! You know I’d never let you do anything alone.” She shot him a warm smile and added, “I’ll be helping you.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. It was pointless to argue with Hermione on something like this, there would be no way he’d win the argument.

She smirked at him, “See now you’re getting it.”

He shook his head in amusement as the two continued to walk around the park.

“Harry, do you want to go back to your relatives?” asked Hermione casually.

“What? Of course, I don’t, Hermione,” he replied, confused.

“Good, ‘cause you’re coming and staying at my house.”

Harry was gobsmacked. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

Hermione let out a small chuckle. “I said, you, ” while gently poking him with her index finger, “Are staying at my house,” her hand now splayed against her own chest.

She can’t be serious, can she? He looked at Hermione to see any signs of dishonesty, but spotted none, in fact, she had an expectant look on her face. 

“Look, Harry, we have Dobby, he can get your stuff and take it to my house, no problem. The Order won’t even realise you’re gone unless they’re actually doing their job properly. And we have a spare room in my house, besides, I already discussed it with my parents beforehand and they’d be happy for you to stay over until term starts.”

“You already asked?”

“Yes, of course, I did. I wasn’t going to bring you along unannounced now was I?” She looked at him with puppy dog eyes and added sadly, “Unless you don’t want to stay over at my house....”

But he did, very much, probably more than he cared to admit. Any chance to get away from his relatives was a welcome one. And it wouldn’t be like going to the Burrow, where a chaotic household is a normal day. He was sure staying at the Granger’s would be very quiet and peaceful.

But there was just one problem.

“You know I’d love to, but Dumbledore is picking me up on Friday to take me to the Burrow…”

“Would you prefer to go there?”

“No.”

She smirked, “Well then, the ‘Cunt’ will be in for a nice surprise, won’t he?”

Harry gaped openly at his best friend, Did she seriously just say that? He eventually closed it and replaced his expression with a massive smile. “Your house, it is then.”

“Great!” she exclaimed.

Well, I guess I’m going to Hermione’s house, thought Harry. Oh god, I’m also meeting her parents, what will they think of me? I look like some homeless person in my cousin’s clothes .

“Hermione, do you have any Pounds on you?”

“Yeah, I always carry around 100 or so,” Hermione said as they walked. She suddenly stopped and looked at him quizzically, “Why?” 

He began nervously, “Umm—could I go buy some real clothes for myself? I’d rather not meet your parents wearing these,” and gestured to his clothes. “I’ll trade you Galleons if that’s alright.”

Hermione was surprised but smiled at him, “Of course, Harry, that’ll be fine.” Her smile then turned into a grin, a very excited grin. 

“Uh—Hermione, why are you grinning like that?”

“Cause we’re going to buy you new clothes!”

He didn’t really understand why she was so excited, he just hoped it wouldn’t take as long as the times they had visited Flourish and Blotts.

Thankfully, it did not.

Chapter Text

Hermione had never been one to window shop, and spend hours on end shopping. She’d walk in, get what she wanted and leave. Unless of course, she was browsing through books.

It was a bit different with Harry though. She had never seen him in Muggle clothes that weren’t his cousin’s, only his school robes, but nonetheless, she was determined.

Harry was reluctant at first, but Hermione’s enthusiasm soon put him at ease, “Harry, don’t worry, I’m just glad you’ll be wearing clothes that fit you. Besides, I’m sure you’ll look a whole better.” 

“Umm—thanks. But could we please just get some clothes for me quickly? I think It’d be better to meet your parents earlier rather than later,” he asked with furrowed brows. As an afterthought, he added, “And my room is a mess, it’ll take some time to get everything packed.”

She gave him a reassuring smile. “We won’t spend long, rest assured. Though…” she began, lingering for dramatic effect, “If we pass any bookstores I can’t guarantee anything.”

He rolled his eyes at that but was amused by her antics.

“My parents won’t be back till the late afternoon anyway since it is Wednesday, so you’ll just have to spend more time with me… Poor you.”

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing,” he replied in a teasing manner with a lopsided grin.

Her heart warmed at his reply, “Well, I’ll try to make sure I fit in some fun during the holidays.”

“That’s more than enough, Hermione. Though if it’s fine with you I’d like to spend a lot of time studying.”

Did I hear that right?

“Harry?” she asked with a most peculiar face.

He laughed, “I know that probably sounds like bullshit.” He paused seemingly waiting for her to berate him for his language

Harry can speak freely, though he’s the only exception. If it was anyone else I’d tell them off. He’s had a hard enough life as is, he doesn’t need me nitpicking him all the time.

When no response came Harry continued, albeit confused, “And your disbelieving face, confirms so.” He suddenly stopped laughing and looked at her seriously, his green gaze piercing her, “But I’m serious. I really do want to spend a lot of time studying, improving and becoming a better wizard. Otherwise, I won’t ever have a chance against Voldemort.”

She smiled at her friend, “I’m glad you’re starting to think like this Harry. And yes, of course, you can! I’ll be helping you along as well.”

With a smile which reached his eyes, Harry replied, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They continued on their walk until they were in front of a clothes retailer. 

“Alright, we’re here. This is where I get most of my clothes, I know it’s got a great men’s section,” she told her raven-haired friend.

Harry gave her a shy smile, “Just don’t laugh at how ridiculous I’ll look.”

Oh, Harry. He needs to gain some self-esteem. Nothing which some nice clothes can’t fix.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll only get you the best,” she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before practically dragging him inside.

They browsed multiple areas of the store, looking at shirts, tops, trousers, shorts and a couple of jumpers for winter. All the while Harry looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

She knew Harry was a bit shorter than most boys his age and so guessed he’d be maybe a size down from the average measurement for his age.

“That’s a lot of clothes Hermione,” he stated once they were all done.

She rolled her eyes, “It’s just a few of everything, enough to get you started. I don’t know what your size is, but I think I got clothes which will suit you a lot better than whatever your pitiful excuse for relatives gave you.”

“What’s has gotten into you lately, hmm?” He asked with a questioning gaze, though not accusing. “I’ve never heard you being so aggressive and rude with your language... not that I’m complaining mind you.”

She looked directly into his emerald eyes and said seriously, “Because, like you, Harry, I’m sick of everything, I’m sick of trusting in adults, professors and wizards, who do little to nothing to help you.

“So I’m done being miss perfect, Prefect all the time. The world is cruel, painful and unjust, what good is it going to do, if I talk politely to a Death Eater? The ones which are hell-bent on killing all of my kind, the ones they see as animals, inhuman, subservient.” She bit her lip and looked downwards, embarrassed by her outburst.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and snapped her head up, only to realise it was Harry. “Hey, look Hermione. I understand perfectly, we aren’t children anymore, especially after last year’s events. And we’ll make sure that those Pureblood fanatics are dealt with, so they can’t hurt you, your family or any others because of their racist views.”

She graced him with a thankful smile, “Yes, we’ll do it together .”

“ Together .”

It was almost like a vow, and like one, Hermione would make sure to uphold it.

“Okay, enough about this. We got a bit off-topic, but now you’re going to go try on these clothes.”

She ‘shooed’ him off to the changing rooms to change and sat on a waiting chair, giving her some time to reflect on this week's events.

When she had read the Daily Prophet and found out that the Death Eaters they fought and nearly died against were let free, she was mad, furious even. 

Ever since that night, Hermione wanted to see the Death Eaters stay in Azkaban forever. It was a cruel fate sure, but how many lives had those fanatics ruined? How many innocents had they killed? Why did they deserve to be set free?

Why of course because of Minister Fudge, now former-Minister. For his last act in power, Fudge used his favours and contacts to make sure that every single captured Death Eater was set free. Though this did nothing to save his failing Ministership, dissent was high as many Aurors had seen Voldemort for themselves. But Hermione mused that Fudge knew this, and simply let them free in an act of self-preservation. Hoping that the Death Eater’s would grant him mercy, or maybe even set him up as a puppet minister.

To make matters worse, instead of Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE becoming the new Minister, Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour was instead appointed. This new successor, also, unfortunately, kept the former’s advisors, mainly that of Lucius Malfoy, meaning that the threat of the Dark Lord was mentioned as a minor issue, claiming that ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’ only had the support of Bellatrix Lestrange and Sirius Black.

Harry’s godfather’s name continued to be dragged through the mud, even following his death. 

This was all found out with intense scrutiny and research by Hermione. Ever since that article came out she had made it her mission to find out everything of importance that was happening in the Magical World, to help Harry in whatever way she could.

And she was beginning to question if incarceration was the best choice of action for the Death Eaters. For it wasn’t the first time some of those Death Eaters had been found innocent of crimes, they most certainly were guilty of. Perhaps a more permanent solution would be needed.

It was a dark thought to be sure, to kill someone, to take a life and end it. In the past, she was completely opposed to such an idea, but ever since the DoM disaster, such thoughts had slowly appeared. 

And she was sure Harry would never consider anything like that… but her recent conversations with him made her wonder if he would be open to the idea.

Harry, as she expected was extremely angry, furious, and rightfully so. 

They had gone into the DoM in an attempt to save Sirius, but it had all gone to shit. 

Sirius died, his friends were injured, Voldemort tortured his mind and all the Death Eaters which were apprehended were now free.

It was no surprise that he was holding a lot of things in, and when she saw him back at the coffee shop she instantly noticed.

Her first plan was to sit down, talk to him and be a friend for him. But seeing him in his cousin’s clothes, nervous and sad, she decided to take a different course of action.

As she hoped, walking around London with Harry proved good for the both of them. Harry opened up to her like he never had before. In the past, she knew little to nothing of his home life, only that his relatives treated him poorly. She had thought that his relatives were perhaps just very strict, but when she saw and talked to him, her original thought was overshadowed by the darker truth. She knew there was a lot more to his home life, and hoped in the following days and weeks of Summer, he might confide in her. 

Their discussion also opened her eyes to the many, now obvious manipulations of one Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Why does he even have so many titles? Everything Harry told her, lined up with the facts, and at first, she had tried looking for flaws in his reasoning. But by the time he began discussing their second year, she gave up such delusions. From the start, Dumbledore had set some sort of path for her best friend, for what endgame, she wasn’t sure yet. But she’d make sure to stop Dumbledore for playing her or Harry as pawns ever again.

Dumbledore didn’t seem like an evil man, but his devices and path to ‘defeat’ Voldemort were unconventional and completely and utterly wrong. However, there was now no doubt in her mind that the Headmaster was not a good person, but a manipulative old cunt.

Harry had used the word and she really couldn’t blame him after all the manipulations which came to light. She could probably come up with more offensive insults if given the time, but there was no point in dwelling on such insignificant things.

Her priority was Harry, to be there as a friend, help him grieve and fight alongside him, no matter the situation. Because regardless of what Harry thought, there was no way she would abandon him, and her resolve had only grown stronger after coming within an inch of death.

Coming up with a plan to save Harry took her a few days, but like other wizards and witches, she had initially overlooked the uses of a house-elf.

Calling Dobby and having him arrive was certainly unexpected and all too easy. She wondered if Dobby would turn up for her, in her home in London, where else could he potentially show up?

In Hogwarts? The Ministry? The other side of the globe? More importantly, would he be able to pass into Harry’s home?

And evidently, yes he could, considering he passed on her letter and side-apparated Harry to her. Though, while she had found a loophole to communicate with Harry, it also frustrated her. Again and again, Dumbledore had told her and Harry that the safest place for him was a Privet Drive with the protection of blood wards.

But that in itself had a major flaw, Voldemort was resurrected using Harry’s blood, so in theory, the blood wards should be obsolete. Additionally, the Order of the Phoenix was supposed to be protecting Harry, always having a guard on duty. But it had been hours and no one had found Harry yet, they probably didn’t even realise he was gone in the first place. And they didn’t consider putting up protections against House Elves, what if one of the Death Eaters grew a brain and sent their house-elf to kill, or kidnap Harry? It seemed as though many pureblood wizards and witches were seriously lacking logic , the Order included.

But she supposed that she had to thank wizards for their ignorance. 

For otherwise, she wouldn’t be here with Harry—shopping for clothes and talking to him. 

She was drawn back to reality, by Harry calling, “I’m coming out Hermione.” 

One thing that caught her attention, however, was the confidence in which he said those words. His new image must’ve improved his self-esteem.

When he came out. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight. Harry looked good , in fact, he looked really good . He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts. The clothes, instead of being oversized and daggy fit him perfectly, allowing Hermione to see some of his slightly defined features. 

Wow, he looks handsome. I’d be surprised if girls weren’t swarming him this year .

But she kept her gaze firmly on his face, which was wearing a grin. “What do you think?” he asked while presenting himself with a downwards motion of his arms.

She gave him a bright smile, “You look amazing Harry—trust me, my parents won’t think badly of you.” And while she didn’t think her parents would really care about the state of Harry’s clothes, she wanted him to respect himself.

“Thanks, Hermione,” said Harry. “I really like the clothes.” He then looked at her nervously, “You’re sure you have enough on you to afford this?”

“I’ve got more than enough for all of the clothes I picked out. Now quick, quick, try on the other ones—you’re the one who said you wanted to get this done quickly, so go on.”

So he went off and got changed multiple times, each time Hermione appreciating the view, though much more subtly than what Harry was earlier.

She had noticed of course, how Harry had looked at her when they met up at the coffee shop. He tried to be subtle about it, but Hermione had learned to read Harry over the years, and it was evident that he looked at her in a different way, than he ever had before.

And each time Harry came out, dressed in something new, Hermione couldn’t help but think about Harry in a not so platonic way.

It wasn’t the first time such thoughts had appeared, last year and maybe as early as fourth year Hermione had thought about the possibility of exploring a romantic relationship with Harry. She cherished the times they spent together, whether it was studying for the first task, or leading Dumbledore’s Army. But back then, she didn’t see herself as ‘worthy’ nor did Harry seem the least bit interested.

However, after spending most of the day with Harry, listening to him, talking to him, laughing with him, she realised she wanted to be with Harry. So what, if she wasn’t the prettiest girl in school, the funniest or the most flattering—she knew Harry the best, better than anyone in the world. She’d be damned if she let someone like Ginny become his girlfriend based on a celebrity crush, and push their close friendship apart all because she was too slow, selfless and fearful to do something first.

Harry was her first friend, and really her only good friend. Even after being a part of the Golden Trio for years, she had never really connected with Ron, especially when all he did was use her as a tool for homework and fight with her. 

And if she had to be honest, she really liked that Harry was going to stop Ron from fighting with her all the time—even hoped that if Ron ever did something stupid again Harry might all together drop his friendship with the redhead. She knew outside of her and Ron, Harry didn’t have any other good friends, so if Ron was out of the picture it would mostly just be the two of them. And if things went their way it would just be the two of them till they returned to Hogwarts.

Sure there were also, Ginny, Neville and Luna, but all of the Weasleys were likely to stick together and support Ron in whatever decision he made. The latter two, however, had done nothing to taint Hermione’s view of them. Neither her nor Harry knew either of them all that well, yet they travelled to the DoM knowing the risks and probably prevented the deaths or capture of anyone in the group. And never once had they shown any disloyalty towards Harry, unlike Ron. 

Considering that she was fairly confident that Harry showed some interest in her, Hermione decided she was going to discuss it with Harry. There was no point in doing what some other girls like Lavender, or Parvati would do, and give subtle hints to their crush in the hopes they would understand the signals. Harry wouldn’t be one to notice such things, nor would Hermione play such stupid games. Or further yet date someone else to make the other jealous. No—no, she would just talk to Harry, and even if she was rejected, (which if it happened she’d argue all the reasons they should be together, for there was a lot and even though both her and Harry were stubborn to a fault she knew he would see her side of the argument) she doubted anything could break their friendship.

But now wasn’t the right time, perhaps in the privacy of her house would be a good opportunity to do so. But first, they had to finish up shopping and get back to Privet Drive, before going to her house.

It was at that moment that Harry came back out wearing his old clothes and all his new ones in his arms. 

“You all done Harry?” asked Hermione.

“Yep,” he replied. “How many galleons will I owe you?” he asked as they walked up to the counter to pay.

She glanced over at Harry, “Don’t worry, Harry. We’ll be taking a trip to Flourish and Blotts in the near future. You can repay me then.”

“You sure I’ll have enough money by the end of it?” he questioned, amused.

Hermione, however, seemed unaffected by his jab and replied, “Guess we’ll find out,” 

Once everything was handed over, Hermione gave the required amount of money and realised she still had a significant amount left. 

As they left the store Harry offered his left hand to her, albeit with some obvious hesitancy. Smiling to herself, Hermione took a risk and instead put her entire right arm inside the loop of his left, and leaned towards him. In response, she got a light chuckle from Harry who pulled her closer and after a second of hesitation whispered, “I like being close to you…” before realising he had just said it aloud.

She giggled quietly, something which rarely happened and whispered back, “I do too.”

Harry looked at her first surprised and then embarrassed and looked down slightly red.

She followed his gaze and saw the state of his shoes… well, she didn’t really believe that you could consider them shoes. His ‘shoes’ were literally taped together at the parts peeling off. Annoyed she huffed, causing Harry to look at her incredulously, “What?”

“Your shoes,” she stated simply.

“Umm—ahh—well they’re not that bad,” he offered with a sheepish but unconvincing smile.

She tilted her head and rose an eyebrow, “‘Not that bad,’” she repeated and shook her head. “Come on, we’re going to get you, new shoes.” He opened his mouth to argue why they didn’t need to do such a thing, but she interjected, “No complaints. I won’t have my friend walking painfully around for no reason, other than he’s stubborn.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine, but you’re going to take and keep this sack of galleons,” he replied while handing her a sizeable sack of galleons. “I don’t want to feel indebted to you, Hermione. Just let me do this, please.”

“But Harry, this is so much!” she protested.

“It’s alright, Hermione, my parents left me a small fortune, I have more in my trunk. Besides, it’ll save your parents the trouble of exchanging money. And it’s not just thanks for today if you feel it’s too much, it’s also for every day you’ve been my friend, protected and helped me. I’m done taking you for granted. So far, today has been the best day of my life for years and I mean it,” Harry said with conviction.

Reluctantly she took the bag and then brought Harry into a bone-crushing hug, which he surprisingly returned with just as much force. She put her face into his chest and said, “Thank you for your praise Harry, and I mean it when I say that you are an amazing friend. I’ve already forgiven you over what happened at the Ministry, and I do not blame you, so don’t even bother apologising again and again.”

He opened his mouth to speak but said nothing, before giving a small smile, “You know me so well, how’d you even figure I’d go and do that?”

She gave him a deadpanned look, “Please, Harry. I’ve known you for five years, nothing gets past me.”

He visibly gulped, “Okay, now what shoes did you have in mind for me?”

As it turned out, Hermione had insisted on getting Harry sneakers, which he eventually relented and agreed to. He had never worn such comfortable shoes in his life. And sneakers were presumably perfect for running in. Meaning that if they ever got into an emergency, the shoes may prove beneficial.

As soon as they were outside of the store, his best friend had suggested for him to wear his new shoes immediately. To which Harry agreed, instantly feeling the tension leaving his feet. 

After that, Hermione had asked him if they could have lunch together, to which Harry readily agreed, so long as he had the chance to change into some of his new clothes so people wouldn’t judge them. Hermione had shot back that ‘I don’t care who sees me in your company.’ But he eventually won the argument, telling her he’d feel a lot better being out of his ‘pig-cousin’s clothes.’ 

And so, once Harry got back, via Dobby, the duo had lunch, where they talked about everything and nothing. It was a nice change for Harry to have someone else to talk to, rather than himself or Hedwig. And Hermione proved to be a great conversationalist, always keeping the conversation flowing and making his day even better than it already was. 

Through their years at Hogwarts, Harry never really talked to Hermione about stuff not relating to either schoolwork or Voldemort. Topics outside of that were often discussed with his other best friend, Ron. But he found talking to Hermione to be more enjoyable and interesting, especially since Hermione hung onto every word he’d say with attentiveness, which he returned with surprisingly little effort.

He had thought that talking with Hermione would be hard, but in reality, it was easier, even more so than with Ron. Just being around her made him feel comfortable, he knew this was likely due to the friendship they had grown over the years, for Hermione’s hugs were the only ones he could relax into. 

In all, he had a really good time and if Hermione’s never-ending smile was anything to go by, so had she.

When he checked the time, it was ten past two and he informed Hermione of it.

“Already?” she said surprised. “Guess we should head to my house soon.”

Harry was about to agree when they walked past a bookshop causing Hermione to stop them from moving a step further.

He disentangled himself from her and looked at her before smirking, “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea Hermione, we better call Dobby righttt now.”

She looked at him like a hurt puppy, “But Harry, we need to visit this bookstore.”

“You’re the one who suggested we head off soon,” he countered, though he was grinning.

“Oh but please, Harry. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

“Oh, fine, it may take a bit longer than that. But we both know you’re going to eventually concede to me.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yes, you’re right, of course.”

Hermione grinned like a child who got what she wanted; practically running into the bookstore.

Harry followed behind her, watching her look meticulously through sections before picking up a book and looking at the front and back. 

About an hour in Harry reminded her that her balance would be low because of him, causing Hermione to buy what she had on hand.

“Are you sure you need all of these?” asked Harry picking up a couple and reading the titles.

“Hmm—yes of course.”

“But Hermione,” said Harry dramatically. “These aren’t all non-fiction books.”

She huffed and replied, “Unlike some people I get enjoyment from reading novels and the like, instead of attempting death-defying stunts every single Quidditch game.”

“But I’d never take you for one to be into the grimdark genre. What’s up with that?”

She shrugged, “I just find it entertaining, well have recently at least.”

It seemed every day Harry was learning more and more about his bushy-haired best friend. In fact, he’d probably learnt more in the last few hours than his last three years of attending Hogwarts with her.

Once everything was paid up, the two moved to an alley out of eyes view and called for Dobby. Who with much excitement transported them directly into Harry’s room in Privet Drive.

Hermione set down her new books and looked around at Harry’s room. She frowned and said, “You don’t have much room here.”

“I make do with what they give me. Besides, it’s better than having to share a room with Dudley, thank god that never happened.”

Hermione picked up a scrunched up piece of paper from the floor, Dumbledore’s letter . He gauged Hermione’s reaction and was pleased when her reaction was much the same as his.

After she had read it, she did what he did and scrunched up the paper before throwing it across the room.

He couldn’t help it, he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” asked Hermione with a tinge of anger.

“Just that you did the exact same thing I did when I read the old fool’s letter, well not to the same degree.”

She gave him a look to continue.

“I also might’ve stomped on it a few times.”

She huffed, “And I take it that’s the only letter from him?”

“Yep.”

“Seriously what is wrong with that man, you’d think after last year he’d know to keep you in the loop so we wouldn’t have a repeat of last year.” She then looked as though she had an epiphany, “Unless…”

He didn’t like the way Hermione said ‘unless.’

“Harry,” said Hermione with seriousness.

The way Hermione said his name caused him to give her his full attention, “Yes?”

“What if that was exactly Dumbledore’s plan?” she asked with a piercing gaze.

He gave her a questioning look to continue.

“Here, think about it. We both know the Headmaster has manipulated events during our years at Hogwarts, and probably your entire life beforehand.” He nodded, as she continued, “He seemingly does everything for a reason, and leaving you alone is most certainly not the best way to deal with guilt.”

He definitely now knew this to be true. Before meeting up with Hermione, every day he was practically bashing himself for the events of last year. But one day with Hermione and he was feeling as good, if not better than the day he learnt he was a wizard. 

“I think there’s a strong possibility that Dumbledore was setting you up to be in a guilty mindset purposefully. And now looking at this note, it only confirms so.” She took in a deep breath, “With your lack of contact with anyone this note should’ve acted as a lifeline, having Dumbledore whisk you away to the Burrow. In effect, it could make you see him as some grandfather or saviour figure. Though what his final intentions for such a plan, I’m unsure of at this moment.”

Harry let out a loud snort. “Even if you didn’t find me, his plan would’ve failed miserably. I’m not some naive eleven-year-old kid anymore.”

She gave a reassuring smile, “I know, Harry.” She suddenly walked over to the other side of his room and said, “Come on, let’s go and pack your belongings.”

“Alright, but don’t yell at me the whole time for doing everything wrong.”

Together, they quickly packed up Harry’s belongings and neatly packed them into his trunk, after Hermione scolding him for trying to throw his clothes in there without being folded.

Once everything was done Hermione told him, “What about your relatives?”

“They’re probably busy eating as much food as humanly possible. I doubt they even realised I’ve been out all day.”

“Are you going to inform them you’re going to my house for the summer?”

He shook his head, “No. They’ve never cared for my well-being anyway, and if I tell them the Order might catch wind and interrogate us when we arrive. It’d be better if we don’t see Dumbledore till Friday since I doubt a ‘wizard as great as him,’” he said the last bit mockingly, “Wouldn’t think about visiting you soon after he realises I’m gone.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, before sighing. “I hope you’ll realise what a real family is meant to be this summer.”

“If your family is anything like you, I’m extremely excited and terrified at the same time.”

She rolled her eyes but was smiling, “Dobby!”

A moment later a pop sounded with an excited elf who said, “Are Miss Miney and Mr Harry Potter ready to go now?”

After a response of acknowledgement, Dobby apparated the two teenagers right in front of a generously sized house before they gave a thankful goodbye to their little friend.

Harry had to blink a few times at the building in front of him, “This is your house I take it?”

“Yes, don’t worry there’s more than enough room for you,” Hermione replied reassuringly.

But Harry wasn’t really thinking about that. The Granger’s residence was certainly larger than the Dursely’s and located inside the heart of London. There wasn’t a car parked in the driveway, presumably because it was with Hermione’s parents who were still working. The house’s look from the outside was certainly impressive to someone like Harry, who barely ventured into the Muggle world, spending most of his time in his room and really only having Privet Drive to compare it to. Though it wasn’t a mansion by any means, it would certainly fit a family easily.

His friend next to him seemed really excited about the prospect of Harry staying at her house. She got a spare key out and unlocked the door.

“Come inside,” she said while motioning for Harry to come in. “And please take off your shoes,” she informed. 

As soon as their shoes were removed, Hermione began a tour of the house. In all, there were two floors, four bedrooms, two bathrooms a lounge, a kitchen and of course a mini library, In case I had any doubts Hermione lived here .

Their last stop on Hermione’s little tour was her room. One which Harry would’ve recognised instantly if presented with each room and asked to guess. There was a double-sized bed located in the centre of the room, with a sideboard containing a photo of her parents and herself when she was younger. 

Looking around the rest of the room, Harry saw not one, but two bookshelves stacked to the limit with books. He turned around and gave Hermione a knowing look while eyeing the bookshelves out of the corner of his eyes.

“I like books,” she said defensively.

He chuckled, “Don’t worry, that’s one of the things I love about you, Hermione. Our resident bookworm, if it weren’t for you being engrossed as you are in books events in previous years could’ve well—gone much much worse.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “You know, I’m sure if you read a few more books, you’d find them just as entertaining as me.”

“Is that your challenge for the holidays? Get Harry Potter to enjoy reading books?”

She smirked at him, “Among a multitude of other things.”

“Oh, care to elaborate?”

But Hermione simply smiled and ignored his question.

Guess I’ll have to figure out what else she has planned for me. Though it’ll probably only be good things if it’s coming from Hermione.

Looking closer Harry saw a few more picture frames, ones which even had a couple of magical photos of him. He wondered where Hermione got such photos considering he didn’t remember Hermione ever taking any.

Her room had a very magical feel of it too, or whether that was Harry’s imagination he wasn’t too sure. Her curtains were the exact same shade of scarlet as the Gryffindor House colours,  and in a neat pile on a desk, sat stacks and stacks of parchment.

“Yes, this room is most definitely yours.”

She smiled at his comment, “Ready to see where you’ll be sleeping?”

He nodded his head as Hermione led him to the guest room he’d be staying in.

After getting settled in, Hermione whipped up a tea for herself and Harry, where the two conversed over a small afternoon tea.

Suddenly the door opened, and a feminine voice yelled, “I’m home, Hermione!”

Harry checked the time, and it indeed was four O’clock meaning her parents were back. Time sure did pass fast when around Hermione.

Hermione got up from her seat to greet her parents, and as Harry got into view, he found his bushy-haired friend hugging both of her parents with her signature bone-crushing hugs. He smiled fondly at the family.

Mr Granger caught his view and offered his hand to Harry, one which he took and shook on. Hermione’s father eyed him suspiciously, “You must be the Harry Potter.”

“Uh—Yes,” he replied brokenly and grimaced slightly.

“Oh, sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean for it to sound that way, it’s just Hermione has told us quite a lot about her first friend,” said Mr Granger with an apologetic look.

“No worries, Mr Granger,” replied Harry. I was Hermione’s first friend? Why do I not know that, and why had no one else befriended her beforehand? He internally frowned at that, thinking that Hermione was probably just as alone as him in first year, and Ron’s attitude towards her most certainly would not have helped.

“No need to be so formal, Harry. You’ll be staying here for the Summer, so please, call me Robert.”

“And me Helen,” said Hermione’s mum while offering her hand and a bright smile.

After introductions were all done the four of them moved into the lounge room where they began discussing about school.

“So, Harry, my daughter has been ecstatic and worried about getting her OWL results later this summer, how do you think she’s going to go? Considering every time I ask her, she just says she’s failed everything,” asked Helen.

“Mum!” protested Hermione, slightly red in the face. She gave Harry a pleading look to not say anything but he simply gave a reassuring smile and replied anyway. Besides it is the truth, I don’t know why she thinks she could possibly have failed anything.

“Well, Helen, I don’t think you or Hermione should be worried about her results. She’s been top of our year for the other four years, I don’t see why that would’ve changed last year. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say Hermione would’ve got straight Outstandings. She’s simply amazing at her practical and theoretical work.”

“Oh, Harry you give me too much praise. Besides you’re better at Defence Against the Dark Arts than me.”

He turned to her parents, “Does she know how to take a compliment without giving back?”

Hermione punched him lightly in the arm, to which Harry mock rubbed his arm as if he was in pain.

Helen had an amused expression on her face, while Robert was snickering.

Harry and the Grangers continued their conversation, diverting it away from the topic of subjects to the different aspects of the wizarding world. 

Before long it was nearing six O’clock and Helen got up to make dinner, Harry offered to help, but when it was three against one he stood no chance in the debate. Especially when those three people were all Grangers.

Together they ate delicious dinner cooked by a combined effort of the Grangers, to which Harry praised as being the best dinner he’d ever eaten. And it wasn’t a lie, the food was simply delicious, even more so than Mrs Weasley’s cooking, which admittedly was a hard bar to top.

Hermione looked thoughtful before cautiously asking him, “Harry, have you ever watched a movie before?”

He furrowed his brows and replied, “No, I’ve only caught glimpses on the television before.”

Helen gave him a confused look, “Forgive me Harry, but you grew up in our world, right? So how come you’ve never watched a movie before?”

He shrugged trying to be nonchalant about it, “My relatives have never let me. It’s no big deal though.”

“Right!” exclaimed Hermione smacking the table, startling everyone present. “We’re watching a movie tonight, I won’t let my best friend go back to school without having experienced a simple luxury,” said Hermione with pursed lips.

He held his hands up in surrender, “Alright, Alright. You’ll hear no protests for me.”

She smiled warmly at him with sparkling eyes and said, “Great!” And enthusiastically continued, “Let’s go find something for us all to watch, Harry.”

Together the two browsed through the various cassettes the Grangers owned. Harry had only heard about the video format in passing, and never actually seen one for himself. But Hermione as helpful as ever, explained to him what they were, how they worked and answered any questions and clarifications he asked.

The two didn’t notice that Helen and Robert were admiring how the duo were interacting with one another.

Eventually, they chose a movie, admittedly it didn’t take long for as soon as Hermione described a sci-fi action/adventure movie Harry informed her of his desire to watch it. 

Hermione seemed happy with his choice of Star Wars and put in the first VHS of the trilogy. Only increasing Harry’s anticipation even more.

Just as they had finished setting up, Robert and Helen filtered into the room, both carrying two mugs in their hands. 

Helen walked over to Harry and Hermione who were sitting next to each other on the couch located closest to the television and offered the two mugs in her hands to them. “A cup of hot chocolate for you both,” she said with an encouraging smile.

Harry took the mug and returned the smile before politely saying, “Thank you.”

“Thanks, mum,” said Hermione.

Helen seemed to relax a little before joining her husband on another couch.

As soon as the movie began with its nostalgic intro, Robert commented in excitement, “Woo! Yes—nice choice Harry and Hermione. This is one of my favourites.”

Helen, however, didn’t seem as pleased by the choice of movie and exaggerated a sigh, “Oh, really, this movie again. This must be the millionth time we’ve watched it.”

“Oh, come on Mum. Just because you’re bored of it doesn’t mean Dad and I are, besides this is for Harry,” said Hermione.

She gave a small apologetic smile, “You’re right darling. Besides it’s not a bad movie.” And with that response, Robert brought his wife closer to himself causing her to smile in contentment. It seemed that what Harry was looking at was in a way intruding as they seemed quite intimate and turned his attention back to the movie at play.

It had only taken him about an hour of meeting Helen and Robert to realise that they were how a healthy married couple should look like. They were about as far from Petunia and Vernon as he was from Draco. They seemed so content and happy with one another as they still loved each other immensely, presumably for over seventeen years. Unlike his Uncle and Aunt or Mr and Mrs Weasley, Helen and Robert kept a playful attitude between one another, and while they were married, they were clearly also good friends. From now on, he’d use Hermione’s parents as the basis for a good, healthy and loving relationship and marriage, instead of his uncle and aunt’s; which he now knew was lacking in important areas.

Thirty minutes into the movie and Harry was totally engrossed in the fictional universe. He didn’t really have anything to compare it to, but it was one of the most enjoyable activities he had ever done in his life. From what he’d gathered, the film was a favourite of both Hermione and her father, even more so obvious when he gazed occasionally at her to see her mouth moving to say the lines of different characters. I wonder how many time she’s actually watched this .

When the credits finally rolled Harry said, “That. Was. Amazing!”

“Glad you thought so,” said Hermione with a broad smile. She then added with a smirk, “Besides, we still have two more films to watch.”

Robert decided to take the moment to get up, “Alright. Now while you two may be ready for another film, I for one am ready for bed.”

“As am I,” added a yawning Helen.

“We’ll see you both in the morning,” Robert informed as he brought an arm around his wife. And with a slight glint in his eye, he added, “Now, don’t stay up too late.”

“We’ll just watch the ‘Empire Strikes Back’ then knock off as well, that is considering Harry doesn’t fall asleep during it,” said Hermione teasingly.

“Hey! This isn’t another lecture of Professor Binn’s. Since this is actually interesting .”

“Alright, have fun you two,” said a chuckling Robert as he and Helen left. The latter of which had a knowing look on her face.

“Ready for round two?” asked Hermione as she returned from rewinding the first cassette and switching in the second.

He relaxed into the corner of the couch, spreading his legs along the length of the couch and replied, “Most definitely.”

Instead of Hermione sitting at the end of the couch or moving to the other like he would’ve expected she instead moved over his legs and snuggled her body up to his, with her legs directly next to his. “Sorry is this bothering you?” she asked cautiously.

Slightly flushed he replied, “No, it—it’s fine—nice actually.” And after a second of hesitation draped his right arm around her for reassurance. 

In response he could’ve sworn he heard Hermione hum, as she leaned her head on his chest with her eyes fully open and looking at the screen.

Deciding that he should enjoy things as they are, they began the movie, enjoying the closeness they were now sharing.

Just as the first movie, Harry had enjoyed the second one immensely, so much so that he was about to ask whether they could watch the third that same night before he noticed Hermione’s intense gaze on him.

He knew that look, it was the face she made before she asked something serious, her next words only confirmed so.

“Harry, could I ask you something?”

“Of course, Hermione you can ask me anything.”

She opened her mouth to continue but hesitated and was about to take back her initial question before Harry interrupted.

“Just ask whatever it is,” he said softly with an encouraging smile.

He could feel her tense up before she asked in a soft tone, “Do you think Death Eaters should be imprisoned or killed?”

Out of all the topics Hermione could’ve asked about, this was most certainly not what he had expected.

And what did he think? Did Death Eaters deserve to live? Even if the other option was perpetual incarceration. His first thought was to instantly say they should be sent to Azkaban for life. But that in itself had problems, for if they could be broken out once, who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again. Especially considering convicted Death Eaters were now completely free. And why else would Hermione ask that question unless she had these same doubts?

He still felt that Hermione was tense beside him, so he rubbed her arm and replied, “I think they deserve to die.”

Instead of staying tense, Hermione actually relaxed and breathed out a sigh of relief and murmured, “So do I.” She tilted her head to look up at him with wide eyes and asked, “What are your reasons?”

“Unlike Dumbledore, I don’t think everyone has a chance at redemption, especially not Death Eaters. If we had just executed the Death Eaters at the end of the Blood War, Voldemort never would’ve had the manpower to pull off what he did at the Ministry. But those in doubt still deserve a fair trial, something which Sirius never got. And as we found out at the Ministry, stunners and tripping jinxes do not work well at stop Death Eaters, next time, I’m willing to use lethal spells. If they’re dead, they can’t threaten anyone.” 

Hermione nodded in agreement and said, “And, Harry. If anyone thinks about hurting you, I’ll make sure they’ll pay.” She said the last part with such conviction, Harry knew with absolute certainty, she meant it.

Oddly enough, Harry had to admit that slightly aroused him. He looked down at his best friend who now had her eyes closed and was resting her head on him.

“Hermione,” he whispered, no response. He did it again but to no avail. Deciding that he didn’t want to wake her up, Harry simply stayed where he was and observed the beautiful witch lying on him.

Beautiful? Yes most definitely, there was no doubt about that . Hermione seemed so relaxed and at peace and Harry couldn’t help but look at every detail of Hermione’s face, before deciding to do something he’d never done before, and left a kiss on her cheek, before he closed his own eyes and let sleep take over.

He didn’t see the small smile that appeared on Hermione’s face.

Chapter Text

Hermione gradually opened her eyes only to see that she wasn’t looking into anything familiar. She took a few seconds to remember that she never left the living room… and that she wasn’t, in fact, resting on a pillow but instead on her best friend. She tried to limit her movements, so she wouldn’t rouse Harry from his sleep. The teenage witch knew that it wasn’t likely that Harry had slept all that well in the past few weeks. While he hadn’t communicated as much, the dark bags under his eyes told the story.

I’m not going to wake him up right now, especially considering it’s… She checked a nearby clock, Only eight in the morning.

It was much later than Hermione usually got up, but considering how much energy they had used yesterday, it was of little surprise. Besides Harry was a really comfortable pillow.

Yesterday was a massive success. Not only had her and Harry’s friendship deepened over the last day, but her parents instantly took a liking to the raven-haired teen. She had to admit that asking her parents to let Harry stay over, was a daunting task. It was the first time Hermione had asked for a friend to stay over, and not only that but that friend was male and would be staying for a prolonged period of time. But her fears proved to be just that, fears. It seemed that her parents were so excited that they’d be meeting a friend of hers and Harry Potter at that—that they were completely for the idea. But her plan also relied on whether or not, Harry would accept her offer of an invitation.

The bushy-haired witch was amused by her own thoughts, ‘offer.’ Well, she didn’t really give him much of a choice, but he didn’t seem to dislike the idea, more like wanting to avoid any problems which could occur. 

Still, Hermione had thought and was later proved correct that Harry would’ve been invited to the Burrow over Summer. Knowing that he was closer to Ron, she assumed that he’d want to stay over there. But surprisingly he had decided against going there, in favour of staying with her and her parents. 

Something which made her heart feel warm and content.

She was ecstatic that Harry had enjoyed the Star Wars franchise, just as much as her, if not more. His gaze rarely left the television, wearing a smile the majority of the time. And the times he wasn’t looking, Hermione had caught him looking at her in her peripheral vision.

This only further gave evidence that Harry was beginning, or already had similar feelings to her regarding a possible romantic relationship.

Once her parents had gone to bed, she was glad to spend some alone time with Harry. She knew her parents were rarely tired, and often went to bed much later than last night. She suspected that her dad knew she wanted to be alone with Harry if that glint in his eye was anything to go by.

She didn’t know what inspired her to make the split-second decision to lie on Harry and snuggle with him, rather than sit in the free space, but she did it, and now had no regrets. Being close to Harry brought as much comfort to her, as she presumed it did to him. And he had welcomed her presence with ease something she realised, later on, she probably should’ve been wary of; considering that besides her and Sirius, she hadn’t seen Harry being comfortable with physical contact and doubted this contact had ever extended past a hug. 

She smiled to herself, remembering the kiss he had left last night on her cheek. Sure it was seemingly platonic, though she had wondered what would’ve happened if she’d snapped her eyes open at the time. Would he have kissed her? Probably not, Harry’s confidence was spontaneous. Sometimes he could be a true leader with immense bravery, such as facing the troll in their first-year, slaying the basilisk, facing the dementors, avoiding a dragon, and teaching Dumbledore’s Army and leading their friends at the Department of Mysteries. 

But other times he was nervous, and extremely so, especially when it involved girls . She had practically walked Harry through his relationship with Cho . Telling him about what he should do, and shouldn’t do. Giving hints to him that Cho was crushing on him and even that he should’ve avoided meeting her during his date. 

She remembered his words on Valentine’s day:

“But I don’t think you’re ugly.”

Hermione had laughed at the time, but truthfully his words had a much bigger impact than he probably took notice of. They had made her realise that she wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with her best friend, and made her wonder if she had always wanted to. She was always happiest when around Harry and so hoped that their relationship would evolve soon.

Why those words had hit her so hard, she wasn’t exactly sure. He didn’t necessarily say she was attractive, or even above average. Just that she wasn’t ugly, regardless it had thrown away any belief that she was ugly, well, from Harry’s perspective at least.

Looking back she realised just how involved she was in Harry’s love life. Even though she was Harry’s best female friend, she thought it slightly odd that she’d played such a big part in helping Harry with Cho. Did this stem from me testing him, or unknowingly wanting him for myself at the time ?

She let that thought linger...

When it happened, Hermione was happy to see that Cho and Harry’s romance failed and disastrously at that. Not the fact that Harry was probably horrified at how ‘bad’ he was with girls, but that he was stuck with someone who couldn’t see past a fantasy image. While Ron had thought Harry was at fault for his fragile romance with Cho, Hermione knew better. Cho was never in a good mental space last year, having just lost her boyfriend to the tournament, and evidently thought that seeking Harry out would be her best choice of action as the famous ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ would be great at comforting. But Harry wasn’t the ‘perfect boy’ image, many in Hogwarts believed him to be. He had flaws, just like any human being, ones she understood and accepted.

Harry was at times, stubborn, reckless, emotional and hot-headed. But they were all traits that made him, him . 

Besides, he had more than enough good traits to counter his flaws, Harry was compassionate, determined, thoughtful, strong, resilient and a leader. Not to mention he was also extremely handsome in her eyes.

Unlike what others may think, Hermione was friends with Harry, not because of what transpired in first year, but because he really was a good friend. She only tolerated Ron out of necessity.

Harry was also trusting and forgiving, the latter of which Hermione contemplated whether it was always a good thing or not. It seemed that now, Harry wasn’t so forgiving anymore, especially towards Dumbledore. Once again, Hermione hoped that this extended to Ron as well. 

God, thought Hermione, mentally shaking her head. Why do I want Ron out of the way so bad? It’s almost as if I’m becoming possessive of Harry, and he isn’t even my boyfriend… yet.

Hermione knew she had flaws as well and was glad Harry accepted them for what they were and never bullied her like a certain redhead. While her ‘bossy’ attitude had diminished over the years to a more acceptable social norm, she couldn’t help but channel it sometimes. Which often made everyone shy away from her except Harry, who even seemed to like it at times.

Hermione was drawn from her thoughts when she heard a large intake of breath near her. Instinctively she turned her head to look up to Harry as his eyes groggily opened.

At first, he looked at her confused, then blinked a few times, trying to discern that he was indeed awake, before finally giving her a warm smile. He looked towards her waist and realised that one of his arms were still around her. 

Neither of them made any motion to move it.

Suddenly like clockwork, their two eyes met each other with intense gazes. She wasn’t very far from his face and could see his eyes very clearly, more so than last night, as it had been too dark to discern most of his features then. His emerald eyes had a brighter gleam than she had ever recalled and if she could really describe them she’d even call his eyes beautiful.

She wondered if he was having the same thoughts as her. Wondering what it’d be like to kiss, or even snog him, and revel in a new level of intimacy. 

Without breaking his gaze, Harry barely parted his lips and whispered barely above a breath, “Hey beautiful,” and lightly tightened his grip around her.

Hermione gasped and knew a blush was appearing on her cheeks as her mouth opened as if to respond, but she knew if she tried to speak, any words that came out would simply be a bumbling mess. Beautiful? He really thinks I’m beautiful . Almost repeating it as some sort of mantra. 

Their gazes remained transfixed for a whole minute longer, and Hermione could’ve sworn their faces were now closer than before. 

She eventually whispered with all her pent up emotions, “Hey, you.”

Hermione heard his breath catch in his throat before he gulped, closed his lips and wet them with his tongue. She could’ve sworn something in his eyes changed as well. 

Harry sat up straighter so that their heads were level with each other. Ever so slowly they edged closer to one another their eyes remaining locked. Hermione tilted her head and just before their lips touched he murmured, “Is th—thi—” He couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.

Is this okay? Most definitely! Screamed Hermione inside her head.

She gave a nearly imperceptible nod before they closed the remaining distance.

Their lips met tentatively at first and Hermione closed her eyes to enjoy the new feel. It wasn’t unpleasant, nor was it necessarily spine-tingling. But it was a friendly, comfortable, relaxing and loving kiss. Any tension that was in her body poured out into the kiss, though neither of them were aggressive or passionate in their efforts.

Hermione had never kissed anyone on the lips before, it was a new experience for her and essentially was for Harry as well. Considering the only word he used to describe his first kiss was ‘wet.’ She hoped he didn’t feel the same way about this one. Since he didn’t pull away, she divined his possible response.

Of course, she had read books on the matter, as well as some romance novels, but actually committing the act was a totally new experience. She had always wondered why Pavarti and Lavender were such lunatics over relationships and the physical aspects, now at least she had some idea. 

It was a kiss of promise between two friends, who were likely transitioning into more. Reluctantly the two slowly separated and Harry opened his mouth to say something, but they were interrupted by Helen yelling, “Hermione! You in here? I can’t find Harry.”

At least she always speaks loudly so I know when she’s here, thought Hermione amused, but saddened that their moment had been ruined.

Being guarded by the back of the couch, Hermione slithered her way to the opposite end, without revealing her position to her mum. Harry’s features fell, though only momentarily before he hid them behind a mask. Presumably, he assumed Hermione had regretted their kiss. But Hermione didn’t miss a beat, she smiled reassuringly at him, conveying that she didn’t regret what had transpired.

She saw Harry give a smile back, though it seemed forced. She mouthed, ‘We’ll talk later,’ which seemed to cheer him up.

Both Harry and her were extremely private people, and Hermione didn’t want to insinuate what had happened between them to anyone else until they had a conversation discussing this new development. 

And what a new development it was.

Once safely on the other side Hermione poked her head over the couch and let out a convincing yawn, “Yeah I’m here Mum, and so is Harry.”

Helen visibly relaxed at her comment.

“Morning Mrs Granger,” said Harry while getting off the couch.

“Helen please, Harry. It makes me feel old being called Mrs,” admitted her Mum.

Harry let out a small chuckle and apologetically replied, “Sorry, I didn’t intend for it to come off that way. If you’ll excuse me, Helen, I need to go to the loo.”

Helen replied, “Of course,” and sidestepped out of the way. As Harry left the room he turned his head over his shoulder and gave a shy smile to Hermione. Something Helen did not miss.

Hermione let out a small sigh of relief before she noticed her Mum’s expression.

Helen was looking at her suspiciously and commented, “So that’s why neither of you were in your respective rooms…”

Hermione fought the urge to blush so she wouldn’t confirm her mum’s potential assumption. With a grin, she replied, “We finished watching the second movie which Harry enjoyed just as much and then…” she paused not exactly knowing how to continue. “We just kind of fell asleep. I think we were too tired from yesterday’s activities.” And shrugged to seem nonchalant about it, when the opposite was true.

“Mhmm, sure honey,” replied Helen, believing that she was omitting some truth. But her mum respected her unspoken wishes and changed the topic, noting, “Harry’s a very polite boy.”

She smiled fondly at her mum and replied, “Yes he is.” Hermione must’ve had a faraway look on her face because Helen began giggling like a little girl.

The bushy-haired brunette looked at her weirdly, “What?”

Sometimes I wonder who the child is, thought Hermione mentally rolling her eyes.

“I said,” began Helen calming down. “What do you and Harry plan on doing today? Your father and I are leaving in ten or so minutes.”

Hermione bit her inner lip thinking, “I’m not entirely sure… Beforehand I had a plan on what we’d do every day, for the first week. I had intended to make his time here as enjoyable as possible but he surprised me with his desire to study.”

Helen looked at her surprised, “I thought he was one to slack off on his homework. You’re always telling me how he and Ron spend too little time studying and too much goofing around.”

“I know, but he was really determined to change those habits with V—NEWT classes starting this year. It really is great that he’s changing in that respect and for the better. Besides he’s always been more proficient in his studies than Ron.” 

She didn’t particularly want to tell her parents about Voldemort, the Death Eaters and a new wizarding war. In fact, she had refrained from telling them about their dangerous adventures ever since Halloween of 1991, fearing that they may do something drastic. Though she wondered if those were simply the fears of a little girl, considering that her parents respected her choices more and more these days.

Her mum frowned at her and with a compassionate look said softly, “Hermione, I know you aren’t telling me everything, and that really is fine. But just know that your father and I are here for you, for anything. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t mum,” Hermione replied. “It’s just that… things aren’t the best in the Wizarding World at the moment, and I don’t want to unnecessarily drag you and dad into things if I can avoid it. If you really want to know I’m sure Harry and I could sit down with the both of you and explain the situation.”

“That’d be great, honey,” replied Helen.

At that moment, Robert came into the room with Harry walking close by, the two in conversation.

“So let me get this straight. Quidditch is a sport similar to football as you try to score points by getting the ball into the goals, only that you’re flying on brooms?” asked Robert trying to wrap his head around the wizarding sport.

Harry nodded his head, “Yeah, that’s essentially it. It’s a bit ,” heavily emphasising the last word, “More complicated than that, but I’d be happy to explain the mechanics and rules another time.”

Her dad grinned, “That sounds great Harry. It seems like a really interesting sport. Now while I lean more towards golf and cricket, I think I can make an exception for an ‘epic-broom-stick-flying-football-game.’”

Harry laughed, actually genuinely laughed. Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off his grin, his crinkled eyes and the sound of his laughter. Harry not only seemed to be enjoying himself around Robert but was entirely comfortable and on top of that, her dad was having a good time as well. She knew the one thing Harry desired above all else was family and love. He had seen them around the Weasleys, and while they had treated Harry like one of their own, he always seemed slightly uncomfortable around them. But with hers it was different he was simply himself, and that made her all the happier.

The two teens said goodbye to her parents, with Hermione hugging them both. After hugging her mum, she gave Hermione a wink. She gave a quizzical look at her mum but was only met by a slight smirk.

Is she implying what I think she is? Wondered Hermione. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want her and Harry to be more. And god, did she really want to feel those lips on hers again. Now with her parents gone she thought it was a good as a time as ever to talk to her best friend about what happened.

She turned to look at the person in question. As expected he seemed nervous and slowly brought his eyes up to hers, drawing out, “Sooo…”

“Harry,” she said sharply.

He instantly snapped into focus, giving her his undivided attention.

She decided to not ‘beat around the bush,’ and asked simply, “Do you regret it?”

There was no need to clarify what she meant by ‘it’ he knew exactly what she was referring to. Harry didn’t betray his feelings and after a second responded with, “No.” He then gave her a curious look, “Did you?”

“No,” she replied in the exact same manner as him.

He looked deeply into her eyes, a gaze which made her feel as though he could see right through her, and made her feel completely vulnerable. Presumably, he was looking for any dishonesty and after an indefinite amount of time, he tore his gaze away.

She was about to say that she meant it, but he talked first, “I—I really like you Hermione, much more than a friend. I just don’t want this to hurt our friendship.”

Hermione moved closer to him, so he was within arms reach and softly took hold of his chin and turned his face to look at hers. She stated softly, “This won’t hurt our friendship, Harry. If anything, it’ll only strengthen it. Part of a working romantic relationship is becoming friends, something we’ve already done.

“Do you know why my parents have such a functional relationship?” He shook his head, “They were, and still are, best friends. It evolved into something more, twenty or so years ago and since they knew each other so well, their romance only blossomed from there. I’m not saying it’ll be the same for us, but you’ll always have my friendship no matter what.”

Harry mumbled a grateful, “Thank you.”

Hermione grimaced as a thought came to her. 

“What?” asked Harry concerned.

“What about Ron?” she inquired, hoping Harry wouldn’t be a noble git.

“Fuck Ron.”

She raised an eyebrow, surprised by his response, then smirked, “No thanks.” Internally filled with disgust at the very thought.

Harry took a moment to understand what she meant before his face too twisted with disgust, “Hermione! You made me picture Ron like that!”

“Your fault,” she countered while falling into laughter.

He rolled his eyes before he looked deep in thought, and eventually told her, “You’re amazing. You make everything better. You know, I’ve been thinking about us becoming more , ever since the end of fifth year. I just wanted to make sure you were one hundred per cent on board with this because something I know for a fact is that: I can’t do this without you. I know it sounds selfish, but I really do need you Hermione, and I don’t want to put that in jeopardy. But at the same time, I desperately want to be more.”

Hermione moved her face closer to his, so she was only a few inches away and whispered, “Then do what you want for once, Harry.”

As soon as Harry acknowledged her words, he quickly closed the distance between them and brought her into a kiss. It was awkward at first, causing her to giggle and Harry to smile. He brought his left hand behind her back, and his right behind her head, and pulled her closer. She obliged and moved her body closer to his while smiling into the kiss. Unlike their first, however, this quickly evolved from a simple friendly kiss to one far more passionate. 

She had never felt sensations like this before, and before she even realised it, she’d let out a small moan. It must’ve surprised Harry because suddenly he slowed his movements and opened his eyes to look at her wide-eyed. He moved his face back and opened his mouth to say something—but Hermione just crashed her lips against his again, shutting up whatever he was going to say. Harry only took a moment to reciprocate the kiss with just as much force. 

Hermione’s lips felt hot as their breath merged. Harry’s lips were softer than she had imagined, but tasted finer than anything she could fathom. Letting her eyes fall shut, Hermione focused entirely on the sensation of Harry’s lips moving against her own, and the fiery tingle that spread outwards from their point of contact.

Eventually, they separated, both breathing hard and grinning like mad. Harry leaned their heads together and asked softly, “Hey, Hermione?”

“Yes?” she whispered back.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

She answered by kissing him full on the mouth. It wasn’t long before the snogging renewed.

Dumbledore could’ve just apparated outside of the Durselys, but why do that, when he could walk down the whole street, enjoying the sights of Privet Drive? Besides, even an old man was allowed to indulge in some fun every once in a while.

Especially a dying one.

Imbecile. Why in Merlin did I touch that stupid bloody ring without checking it for curses? 

He mentally shook his head, It was just an oversight, it’s fine anyway. I can work around this. I just need to change the plan very slightly.

Though Dumbledore would come to know that he’d be making these ‘slight’ changes very often over the next few months.

At least Severus managed to stop the spread. The poor young man is still obsessed with Lily, even to this day. If only he knew about ‘real love,’ though we must all make sacrifices for the Greater Good, just as I did years and years ago...

But there was no point in dwelling on the past, and he instead focused on the task at hand. Today was Friday, and Dumbledore was due to pick up Harry and take him to the Weasleys at the Burrow. Although, he had a sparse detour planned, which involved manipulating his old friend, Horace into taking up the post of Potions Teacher once more. And I also need to know how many Horcruxes Tom made. And using Harry to get Horace’s help will be easy. I just need to lay the bait, which will be Harry and he’ll be caught. 

If all had gone to plan, Harry would be in a vulnerable and weak situation, having grieved over the holidays alone. Meaning Harry would see him as a grandfather figure, one who was saving him by sending him to Weasleys. Such a naive boy, couldn’t see the constant manipulations orchestrated by me over the years.

Dumbledore calmly walked up the door of the Dursley residence and knocked on the door. 

Before long the door opened to reveal Mr Dursley, “What do you want, wizard ?” he scowled making the last word sound like a derogatory term.

“I’m here to pick up Mr Potter,” he smiled at them. “I’m sure he’s told you of this.”

Vernon huffed, “No, in fact, the little brat has been locked up in his room all holidays. But I’ll be glad to get rid of him.”

Dumbledore frowned at Mr Dursley calling Harry a ‘brat,’ but was also internally smiling. It seemed as though his Order’s reports were right, and Harry had been hiding away, just as intended. He’ll be so glad to see me .

“If it’s little trouble, I’ll just go and inform Harry of my presence,” said the elderly wizard.

“Not bloody likely, I won’t have more of you freaks inside my household. Petunia!”

The woman who was somehow sister to Lily Potter, walked into the room with an irritated expression, “Hmm.”

“Tell the brat that ‘one of his kind’ is here to take him away.”

Petunia seemed irritated at being ordered around, but once she realised his words and the implication she smiled, “Gladly.”

One minute later, awkwardly standing in the doorway Mrs Dursley returned. “He won’t answer the door and the door is locked from the inside.

“No matter,” informed Dumbledore, being impatient. “I’ll get him myself.”

Vernon grumbled, muttering something under his breath sounding like, “Little shit.”

The great wizard walked up to Harry’s door and called to the other side, “Harry, my boy it’s me Professor Dumbledore.”

No response. Hmm this can’t be good, still no need to panic yet.

He unlocked the door with an ‘Alohomora’ charm and walked in to find it basically deserted.

His first thoughts were that Death Eaters had got to ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ but that thought quickly vanished upon learning that all his belongings were also gone.

Looks as though the boy left of his own volition. Must already be at the Weasleys via the Knightbus, mused Dumbledore.

While his outer composure was as calm as ever, inside he was fuming.  Why can’t Molly inform me of these developments when they happen, instead of at her own leisure?

Still deciding that he needed to do a bit of an investigation he asked the Dursleys in the doorway, “When did you last see Mr Potter?”

“Haven’t seen the shit in weeks,” spat Vernon.

Weeks? Troubling indeed, would the Weasleys be conspiring against me? No surely not, their loyalty towards me is unrivalled. 

“Two days,” mumbled Petunia.

“Will you please explain Mrs Dursley?” questioned the Headmaster.

“He usually takes food after we’ve gone to sleep, but over the last two days, I’ve not noticed any food disappearing.”

He couldn’t stop the sigh that came out, “Mr Potter being here is as much for your safety as his.”

“Well maybe you should’ve given us a way to contact you!” cried Petunia, frightened at remembering who the Death Eaters were and what they did to her sister.

Dumbledore gave them a calming smile, “Do not fret, he’s been here long enough to strengthen the wards. You shall be safe.”

Though I’m not going to tell them that the wards are practically useless ever since Tom took Harry’s blood as his own. But it should still hide their location from any threats. Don’t need people needlessly dying, everyone deserves redemption… Well except Tom, he must meet his end. Splitting his soul, oh how far he’s fallen.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” and without waiting for a response apparated away to the Burrow.

Dumbledore arrived outside the Granger residence. He had to take the matter up with Minerva and informed her of the situation, to find out where Miss Granger lived. Since his visit to the Burrow revealed that Harry had not travelled there.

He had asked the youngest male redhead if Harry had a secret girlfriend, as maybe that was where he had gone. But Ron had responded that “Not as far as I know. Although I wouldn’t be all that surprised if he’s got two of them.”

Jealousy really will be the downfall of the youngest Weasley boy, thought Dumbledore sadly, pitying the painfully ordinary boy.

Another place Harry could’ve gone would be Miss Granger’s, though the Headmaster found that idea unlikely. Last year Miss Granger had heeded his orders not to contact Harry, he saw no reason as to why she wouldn’t have done the same this Summer.

Regardless, speaking to her may provide him with the necessary information to find the boy, Why couldn’t he have just stayed put? He’s already ruining my plans, let’s just hope it was an innocent mistake made by a weak-willed boy.

“Hello Miss Granger, may I come in?”

“Why?” she responded while tilting her head, expecting a response and reason.

‘Why?’ Since when has she ever questioned me?

“So we could talk of course,” he informed her with a twinkle in his eye and a practised smile.

“We can talk here,” she replied bluntly.

What???

But he kept his composure and replied with, “Of course. Now, Miss Granger, do you have any idea about the whereabouts of Mr Potter?”

“Yes.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise, “Really? Could you please tell me.”

“I’m right here,” came a familiar voice with obvious irritation.

He turned to the voice with a grin and untensed, upon seeing Harry Potter, ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived.’ Ahh, thank Merlin I found him. The consequences if I didn’t…

“Harry, good to find you, my boy, though next time I must ask you to stay at the Dursleys as requested.”

The raven-haired teen gave him a forced smile, “I just wanted to spend some time with Hermione, I’m sure you had no problem with that.” Seeming like it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

“No no, of course not. Well, now that’s all done and dusted, I ask that you come with me to the Burrow. The Weasleys are waiting for you, and I also have a special mission for you.”

“No,” replied Harry boldly. 

No? What? Why are they both being so rebellious?

Instead of asking them that, he graced them with a smile and said, “I’m sure Miss Granger should be able to come over near the end of Summer, don’t worry.”

“No.”

Again? What is going on?

Dumbledore shook his head as if amused, “Sorry, Harry, my boy, could you please explain what’s going on?”

“Firstly, I am not ‘your boy,’” he said mocking the last part. “And like I said, no : I am not coming with you.”

He furrowed his brows at the teenager, “Could you tell me why?”

“Why don’t you answer my questions first?” suggested Harry.

Dumbledore wasn’t one to bow down to the wishes of others, but he didn’t want to further antagonise Harry, though why he was annoyed in the first place utterly confused the Headmaster. Doesn’t he want to go to the Burrow and visit his surrogate family? Not that he’d tell Harry that their first meeting was orchestrated by him. Still, he didn’t think that he’d take such a liking to the youngest Weasley boy, though it made future plans easier to create.

“Of course, Harry.”

“ And I request that you don’t call me ‘Harry’ professor since I attend Hogwarts as a student. You don’t go around calling any other student by their first name now do you? I heard you call Hermione, Miss Granger, so there shouldn’t be any reason to call me anything but ‘Mr Potter.’”

Damn, he caught onto that. Perhaps he isn’t as hopeless as I took him for . He chose his next words carefully, and with a smile responded, “I’m the Headmaster, I think I can choose how I can address you. But if you prefer so, I will call you Mr Potter.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“Very well, Mr Potter. Now, these questions you wanted answered?”

“Why do you want me to go to the Burrow?”

A simple question, why on earth would he want me to answer that? Unless he’s fishing for a specific answer…

“Because I thought you’d like to see your family and friends, and there is sufficient protection at the Burrow, as well as many capable wizards.”

“Family? As far as I can tell my whole family is dead. Unless you’re referring to the Weasleys, who I do consider good friends, but they aren’t my family. Also if that’s the case why wasn’t I sent there straight after the end of last year? It’s not like Molly wouldn’t want me there… And further yet, why did I not get a say in this? You’re not my father, relative or guardian, who says you decide where I go?”

He couldn’t help but look shocked at the boy in front of him. He had believed that once Harry wasn’t at the Dursleys he may have a slight outburst, but the scariest thing about this was that he was relatively calm in his delivery. Nothing like last year, when he practically screamed at being left alone, no this was very different. He couldn’t help but be reminded of Tom, though they were similar in ways, they were also vastly different.

His shock must’ve been present on his face because he saw Miss Granger giving a small smile, almost as if she was feeling smug about something.

“I just wanted to do what was best for you. You’re the one to defeat Voldemort, your safety is paramount,” he replied in a calming tone.

And your death, he thought solemnly.

“Well if your reason for moving me was for my safety, I think I’ll stay here with Hermione and her family. I’m sure you can tell your spie—sorry Order members to move here. Am I wrong?”

He knew there were spies outside as well? And yet they didn’t even notice that the boy left? Why is everything going wrong?!

He breathed in deeply and frowned at Harry, “Har—Mr Potter… I’m sure the Weasleys will be very saddened if you’re not coming to visit them.”

“I’ve been with them for nearly every holiday for the last five years, I’m sure they’ll understand that I want to spend some time with my other best friend and her family.”

“And it’s no trouble, Headmaster,” interjected Hermione. “My family is perfectly content with Harry staying here, and I doubt any Death Eater knows the whereabouts of my house, especially when it’s located in Muggle London. He’d likely be safer here than at the Burrow, so long as we have that Order protection and they stay invisible.”

He thought about threatening to take Miss Granger’s Prefect badge away, but considering that Harry seemed to be thoroughly set on staying with her, he didn’t want to draw a bigger gap in his now tenuous relationship with Harry.

He sighed, “Very well, I’ll make sure this house is thoroughly protected against any threats and will make sure there’s always a member on guard. Though I’d still very much like you to come with me regarding this mission.”

“And what mission is this, Professor? And don’t say it’s a secret, we all know I’d tell my friends about it afterwards.”

I can’t even comprehend what’s happening… I’ll have to rethink everything over the next few days. 

“I’d like you to help me convince a former professor to teach at Hogwarts,” he informed deciding that lying would get him nowhere.

“And have you whisk me away to the Burrow without my consent? No thanks. Besides, I’m sure you can convince this professor to attend without my help.”

He furrowed his brows and looked at Harry disappointedly, “You’re not making things easy Mr Potter. I’ll let you stay here for now, but I expect once school starts, you’ll follow my authority as Headmaster. It’s of great importance that we defeat Voldemort.”

He didn’t mean to deliver it in a threatening way, but it happened anyway.

Yet Harry simply responded with, “Of course, Headmaster.” And then Hermione practically slammed the door in his face.

Well shit…

Hermione Granger was having a hard time studying. Most definitely something out of the ordinary.

The reason for this was Harry Potter. She couldn’t help but stare at her new boyfriend as he sat in her room, studying.

Today was Saturday, and while her parents were in the living room, watching television on their day off, her and Harry were reading up on charm theory.

Well he was, she was just staring at him.

The boy in question was currently looking at his piece of parchment with furrowed brows, and his ‘thinking face,’ while the end of his quill kept being tapped against his lower lip. It was an image which simply fascinated the bushy-haired witch.

Her boyfriend— boyfriend, still wrapping my mind around that —was trying his best to study independently, only occasionally asking help from her. And even when he did, he was able to understand and even ask her valid questions, something which he hadn’t done as much in the past. It was obvious he had done some extra work following the end of school.

She was never one to get that distracted, but she supposed if anyone had that ability it would, of course, be Harry. He really was committing to the idea of studying and training more, arguing that staying alive was more important than having fun all the time.

Suddenly Harry looked up at her with a frustrated face, “Hermione?” he asked.

He must’ve noticed her staring because he chuckled and questioned, “What?”

Hermione shook her head with a slightly embarrassed look at being caught, “Nothing. Just… distracted…”

Harry looked at her with raised eyebrows before he smiled warmly and replied, “I hope it’s a good distraction.”

“Oh, yes. A very good one indeed,” she responded playfully.

She heard him let out a chuckle, “And here I thought you were the responsible one. Yet I’m the one studying while… you’re admiring the view.”

“Well, Potter, I’m sure if we had a test right now, I’d get more questions right than you.”

“Oh, no. I’m definitely not doubting your academic abilities.”

“Anyway, you asked for me before, did you want to ask something.”

Harry was looking off to the side, “Hmm?” hearing her talk. “Oh yes, I was wondering about this…” and went on to ask about the usabilities of a charm.

Over the last two days, the teens had bantered more and more with each other, with their newfound relationship. They talked more, laughed more, and certainly kissed more. 

As both Hermione and Harry had hoped, starting a romance, changed little to nothing between them. They were still friends—they just kissed and snuggled now while their relationship deepened, unparalleled to any others of theirs beforehand. Things hadn’t gone past that, but they were both at the moment, very comfortable with how things were progressing. It was never going to be a quick change, and it seemed as if by unspoken agreement they were taking things slow.

Yesterday also put Hermione’s mind at ease. While Harry had said he no longer trusted Dumbledore and would basically stand up for himself, she was worried that actually meeting him and doing it would be a whole new problem. But instead, he did exactly what he said he would, and didn’t move from his position of staying with her and her parents.

The looks and faces Dumbledore made would probably never leave Hermione’s memory even if he was mostly discreet in his shock. The memory itself cracked a smile on Hermione’s face, there was just something about the ‘Greatest Wizard of their time’ being completely flabbergasted. And from discussions with Harry, she knew that it wasn’t a common occurrence for the Headmaster to be in such a state. He’d told her about the attempted arrest of the old wizard last year and how Dumbledore was completely calm, already having everything planned out. Which meant that her plans, regarding Harry, ultimately ruined the Headmaster’s. 

She supposed it was a good thing that he came here looking for Harry, as it meant that she now had the Order protecting her house from the Death Eaters. But she had meant it when she said it was unlikely any Death Eaters would ever target her, let alone get her location.

In the distance, she heard the doorbell ring but paid it no mind. Her parents were downstairs and likely to get it.

She had now given up trying to study, as had Harry, considering they’d been at it for hours. She took a seat next to Harry and leant her head on his shoulder, as his arm came around her waist. 

“So, how are you enjoying your time here?” she questioned.

“Do I really have to answer that Hermione? I think we both know I am.”

She hummed, “Well why don’t you explain why.”

He paused for a bit and looked up with a smile as if recalling a memory. “Hmm, well let’s see. I got to leave my relatives, talked to my best friend, got some new clothes and shoes, met said best friend’s family, stayed three nights at her house. And am I forgetting something? Oh yes, I found a girlfriend… or was it the other way round? And she found me?” he replied, turning to look at her with a hint of a smirk.

“What do you think?” she asked rhetorically before bringing their lips together in a sensual kiss.

He let out a breath of relief, “I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of that.”

She rose one eyebrow at him, “Well you better not, Potter. Cause you’ll be stuck with me for a long time.”

“So confident in your abilities are you?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, “Are you doubting me?”

Before he could respond Hermione’s blood chilled as a voice shouted out, “Mudblood you better come down here, or I’ll kill your parents!”

That voice was familiar, it sometimes haunted her nightmares:

Dolohov

Harry was frozen for a second. He could put two and two together, ‘Mudblood’ and ‘kill your parents’ only meant one thing: Death Eater. 

He shook his head and looked determinedly at his best friend, “We’ll stop him, Hermione.”

While she wasn’t freaking out, crying, or collapsing it was clear she was frustrated and angry. Her fists were now balled in anger, and her teeth were clenched.

“It’s Dolohov.”

Without saying a word, the two walked to the bedroom door before Hermione turned around and said, “He doesn’t know you’re here which means we have the element of surprise. I’ll distract him while you knock him out. And…” she paused and shivered as a loud ‘Crucio’ was heard followed by subsequent screams of her parents.

“You better hurry up, Mudblood bitch, else these two animals will die very soon.”

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, “And I don’t think you should use your wand, Dolohov ought to know every countercurse to every spell we know.”

He furrowed his brows and looked at her worriedly. He didn’t like the idea, but what better idea was there? Hermione wasn’t a ‘damsel in distress’ he knew she was much more than that, and he trusted her judgement. And he too wasn’t willing to use his wand, especially since the only thing he could think about casting near Dolohov was the ‘Killing Curse’ and casting such a thing, and at a ‘prestigious’ wizard at that would be recorded and noted by the Ministry with dire consequences.

“Okay, I’ll be quick.” But as he spoke, a loud scream was heard from Helen.

“Mudblood! I’m impatient!”

Hermione flinched and with tears in her eyes made her way downstairs, with Harry following behind before he darted off to a nearby room. Just as he walked into the study to find some sort of ‘weapon’ he heard Hermione announce, “I’m here.”

He couldn’t hear the rest of the exchange, as he looked desperately around for something to defeat Dolohov with. Then he remembered noting that Robert had mentioned he liked both cricket and golf and so looked around for any cricket or golf gear. And there next to the desk was a bag of golf clubs. 

Deciding that he wouldn’t be able to find anything better, he picked out the biggest one and crept his way to the living room as his eyes clenched shut at Hermione’s screams.

Fuck, he thought, refusing to let the tears spill out, and let them instead be replaced by anger.

He poked his head around the door into the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the attacker. There on the floor were Helen and Robert, both looking on the verge of collapse holding one another seemingly barely conscious. And in the middle of the room, was Hermione standing defiantly, struggling to stay standing. Her wand in Dolohov’s other hand, who luckily for Harry had his back to the door and him. 

“While the Dark Lord wants to take things slow, I have no patience for such petty things. Especially when I get to kill Potter’s Mudblood bitch, I’m sure he’ll be happy to learn of this anyway, since today I’ll finish what I started.” 

Dolohov didn’t even get a chance to notice the club that hit his head directly where spine met skull before he fell to the ground dropping the wands.

By the time he had rolled back over to look at his attacker, he only saw Harry standing over him with a dangerous glint in his eyes he barely had time to spit out, “Potter!” Before the golf club came at his head again, but Dolohov managed to get his hands in the way.

Scowling Harry threw away the golf club and instead got right up to the Death Eater and threw heavy punches relentlessly at his face. Since Dolohov kept up his defence, Harry kicked him in the groin, and instinctually the Death Eater’s hands went to protect it.

Having succeeded in what he intended Harry now could throw punches freely at Dolohov.

He couldn’t think of anything but what was in front of him. He was only feeling two things, anger and something he’d later come to recognise as satisfaction. 

When he had Crucio’d Bellatrix at the Ministry, he didn’t deny that he enjoyed it, or was at least satisfied by the act. Watching the person who caused his Godfather’s death writhe in pain on the ground, brought him a sense of justice.

It was no different with Dolohov. This person caused both him and Hermione so much pain. He had often suffered nightmares of Hermione dying to that purple curse, while he was frozen in place, doing nothing, watching from afar.

But no more. The Death Eater would bring no more pain to anyone, no. He had told Hermione that Death Eater’s deserved to die, and he meant every word. So he didn’t stop, he ignored the pain rising in his hands. He kept punching, as Dolohov’s face became more and more unrecognisable.

As he begged for him to stop, cried, pleaded, he did nothing but continue. His blood was pumping, and the only constant in his mind was beating the shit out of this cunt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione leave the room but paid little mind.

“How does it feel to be beaten by a teenager with nothing but Muggle techniques? Hmm? How does it feel to be beaten by a half-blood?” he spat in between blows. “You fucking cunt, you come into her home, attack her family and think you can get away with it?! No.” Harry had never been so aggressive and threatening in his words before. It was something new, and the fear in Dolohov’s eyes told everything.

When the Death Eater’s movement began to slow and he stopped trying to protect himself, Harry began to realise what he had done. He stopped suddenly and looked around for Hermione, only to see she was standing next to him with a completely impassive look on her face.

Looking down at his girlfriend’s hand, he saw her holding a knife with an intense grip. Her eyes were narrowed with fury at Dolohov.

Understanding dawned on Harry and with his remaining strength, pulled up Dolohov, and pushed him hard against the wall. The Death Eater’s face was a bruised mess, anyone who knew the dark wizard would have little hope of identifying him.

Harry felt Hermione walk up beside him as she moved closer to Dolohov, not breaking her gaze with the man who had tortured her family and her.

She brought the knife up to the Death Eater’s throat and whispered coldly, “Just know that a Mudblood caused your death... Pureblood.”

And just like that, she slit his throat. Harry let go of him, letting him fall to his knees as his hands came up to his throat, trying to stop the blood from falling out. But it was no use, the blood flowed freely, seeping into the scarlet carpet of the living room, only leaving a new, damp shade of crimson in its wake.

Together the duo watched as the blood continued to flow, becoming sluggish as there was not enough left inside to maintain consciousness, before he collapsed face first, and all movement ceased.

Chapter Text

Had they just committed Murder? 

No.

At least Hermione didn’t see it that way. Some would call what they did murder; wrong; dark, but she liked to think of it as an ‘excessive level of self-defence.’ People such as Dumbledore would certainly see it as murder and evidence that she and Harry were going dark, but they never had premeditated intent to go out looking to kill Dolohov. So murder, it was not.

Okay, maybe what they did was slightly excessive.

But one thing was for sure, Dolohov was dead. And could no longer threaten anyone ever again. The Death Eater who had brought her to death’s doorstep was dead, in her living room, killed by an ordinary muggle kitchen knife…

Maybe if she and her parents weren’t hit by the cruciatus curse, she’d be laughing at the end that the Death Eater met. The fanatical pureblood, hell-bent on subjugating her kind, was killed by a simple kitchen knife, a tool made by Muggles. 

Killed by her.

Forcing herself to stop looking at Dolohov, she turned to her best friend who looked stoic and asked, “What would be the best way for my parents to recover from the cruciatus? I’ve read some books on the Unforgivables, but I remember a lack of information on how to deal with the aftereffects.”

He blinked his eyes before turning his attention to her and hesitated before answering, “We can’t exactly take them to St Mungo’s, as we’ll be asked questions, and I’m not even sure if they’ll admit your parents.”

She sighed, Yes, of course, because they’re Muggles. And the Wizarding World is run by the Purebloods, many of whom see non-magicals as lesser beings. Even the Weasleys, who are some of the most open towards them, still hold a sense of superiority over Muggles .

“I’m sorry, Hermione. I’m not an expert, but all I can recommend is that they get some rest.” 

She nodded her head sadly and took her gaze away from Harry and made her way over to her parents. The bloodied kitchen knife which was still in her hand simply dropped to the floor. She walked past Harry who thankfully was still looking at her without disgust or fear. Her path continued on to her parents, and she absentmindedly heard the curtains close behind her, and the light in the room dim.

Arriving in front of her parents, Hermione took in the image. They had been subjected to the cruciatus curse multiple times, and from a Death Eater no less. Their eyes were bloodshot, their breathing still hard and were holding onto each other for dear life. Her mum looked up to her with what she knew was fear, as it was the same look Dolohov had given her, just before she slit his throat. But her mum’s expression changed instantly into one of concern, upon seeing that Hermione had no intention of hurting her. Helen pulled an arm away from her husband and made a motion for Hermione to join them. She was about to go towards them, but then looked at the state of her dress and her hands.

Blood .

It seemed that when she had killed the Death Eater, her reckless method of slicing his throat, inexperienced, had resulted in his blood being splattered over her top, hands and Harry’s clothes.

Oddly enough the blood didn’t affect her in a way it probably should’ve. The feel of it should’ve disgusted her, made her feel dirty and want to clean it immediately, but she herself didn’t really mind. But the very fact that it was Dolohov’s blood, the man who haunted her nightmares, the person she’d just killed almost felt good in some odd weird way while simultaneously disgusting her for the exact same reasons.

Maybe I’m going a bit crazy, thought Hermione. She had realised that she feared less, cared less and thought more violently than before. After thinking about it deeply she pinpointed the timing of this back to when Dolohov first hit her with his mysterious curse. But while it had changed her in some ways, she was almost grateful in a crude way. For she knew the old Hermione would’ve been too scared and self-conscious to pursue Harry in a romantic relationship, and wasn’t even sure if she’d accept a possible romance with Harry otherwise. 

But apart from these darker thoughts and the slight confidence boost she was still very much herself. And to be honest she liked these new developments. She’d never been this happy and fulfilled with herself before, which had her wondering if maybe this darkness was always inside her, wanting to be released in some form or another.

And it wasn’t only her who was different, so was Harry.

Before Harry had been a very subdued boy, one who was willing to follow orders when necessary and only acted out on occasion. Dumbledore used to be a figure he looked up to and respected but the fact that it only took Harry a short time to realise the Headmaster’s part in his childhood and school years, showed that he’d mostly outgrown his naivety and dependency on authority figures. And the fact that Harry told her that he appreciated her made her feel so many different things.

It was really nice to know that these emotions went both ways between her and Harry, and weren’t one-sided. The added intimacy of their deepened relationship had only strengthened her emotions for him if before they were the size of Britain they were now the size of the entire Earth.

He was also less caring for the consequences, but not in a reckless way. He thought more, talked more and did more. She had to admit that seeing Harry attacking Dolohov was somehow rather attractive . It sounded weird but Hermione had no idea how to describe it. Furthermore, Harry seemed perfectly alright with her slight change in character, and with how events unfolded around Dolohov, and his casual attitude to her afterwards… well, maybe he had just as much inner darkness as her.

Hermione was now contemplating whether or not to embrace this newfound darkness, but she knew ultimately her choice would come down to what Harry would do. She’d follow him to the ends of the earth, and if he decided to firmly stay in the ‘light’ then she would as well… but if he felt the same way as her, well they’d make sure to wipe the pureblood fanatics from the country.

So because of her current bloody state, she decided not to join in her parents’ embrace, even though she desperately wanted to comfort them. They had already seen her slit the throat of a man who’d come into their house and tortured them with magic, she didn’t want to further traumatise them by potentially smothering them in blood.

“I’d hug you if I could but…” she told her parents and purposefully showed her blood-covered hand with a grimace. “Umm…” she didn’t really know how to continue. I mean how would you? How would you justify killing someone to your parents without having them freak the fuck out? 

Once again Hermione saw that brief look of fear on her mum’s face before being replaced by an unsure smile. Her dad’s face, however, was unreadable and it unnerved her, but his words put her at ease. “You did what you had to do honey…” She didn’t miss the shiver that went through her mum, but her dad seemed serious.

In a soft voice, she informed, “Harry suggested the best way to heal from that spell is to rest… he’s been under it before and knows what it’s like… I’m sorry that you two got involved.”

Her mum nodded mutely, while her dad glanced behind her and asked, “Do you need some help moving the body? I can call some friends who I trust implicitly…” She now noticed that her mum was giving Robert a look of confusion.

Hermione shook her head and with a grimace replied, “Harry and I will deal with it… don’t worry about it.” While her dad still looked as stoic as ever, she didn’t miss the fearful emotion conveyed by his eyes. “It’ll be gone by the time you wake back up,” she assured.

But I have no idea how we’re going to do that ...

“You’re sure? I really ca—”

“I’m sure,” she assured.

Robert furrowed his brows and said hesitantly, “Okay, if you really are sure, we’ll get some rest.” 

Her parents made to move past her and towards their room. When passing her, Helen softly said with a croak and tearful eyes, “Hey, Hermione?”

“Mum?”

“I still love you, honey.”

“Me too,” she responded, feeling tears prickling at her eyes.

Inside Hermione’s mind, her thoughts were raving, considering all the possible things her parents would be thinking of her and was glad that they both seemed to still love her regardless of what she had done right in front of them.

Robert stepped in front of her and attempted to crouch down in front of her, but the lingering effects of the cruciatus caused him to wince in pain. “Hermione, I’m sure you had your reasons for what you and Harry did, and I hope you’ll both tell us about why in the morning… okay?”

She nodded, “Of course, dad.”

“Good.” Robert looked towards the living room door, which was empty, but she could hear footsteps in the distance. “Look, I’ll go talk to your mum tonight. She’s just a bit shocked is all but will you both be fine tonight?”

“We’ll be fine,” she said barely above a whisper.

“I’ll be here for you no matter what, Hermione. You’ll always be my little girl.” He paused and gave a soft smile, “Night Hermione.”

“Night dad…” she replied with a sad smile.

Reluctantly Robert left the room, only taking a brief look at Harry and the dead Death Eater.

Deciding she’d better make sure Harry was okay, Hermione looked around the room to locate her boyfriend. It didn’t take her long to spot Harry, the raven-haired boy looking at the curtains covering the window, unmoving, sitting on the arm of the couch. She walked up to her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around his chest holding onto him with a firm hold, bringing her body into full contact with his back, not caring that she was probably adding blood to his clothes, but considering they were already bloody she doubted he’d mind and was appreciating her touch instead.

“Are you okay?” they both asked quietly at the exact same moment. At that Harry turned to look at her with a soft look on her face, she gave him a nearly imperceptible smile.

Not willing to raise her voice she answered first, “I’m okay. You’re okay. My parents will be okay.” She slowly brought up her clean hand to his cheek, caressing it carefully. Harry sighed and leaned his head into her palm revelling in her touch.

After lifting his head free of her palm he said softly, “Hermione, not everything is fine. I heard you screaming.” He looked into her eyes with a sense of concern and squeezed her hand and asked, “What spell did he hit you with?”

She shrugged, “The cruciatus.”

His eyes went wide, “Hermione, you can’t just shrug off that type of thing, the whole point of that curse is to torture you.” Harry’s features went paler as he added, “And I’ve been under the spell myself I know how much it hurts.”

She shook her head, “It was painful, but I’ve been under worse.” And without realising it she let out a small sniff, causing Harry to bring her into a tight embrace, with her head almost naturally going under his.

It was the truth, the cruciatus was bad and extremely painful, but wasn’t as painful as the curse that Dolohov had hit her within the Ministry. Whereas that spell caused her extremely prolonged pain, where it felt like her insides were eating her up, the Cruciatus, while having more initial pain, lasted for a much shorter time, which in her mind made it seemingly insignificant compared to Dolohov’s other curse.

Though she acknowledged that she was only under the torture curse for a few seconds, Harry knew the effects of the spell better than anyone she knew, for he had been under Voldemort’s spell, which most certainly would’ve been much more powerful than Dolohov’s.

He then fixed her with a serious gaze, “You should talk to your parents some more and get some rest as well.”

His advice would be more sound than anyone’s, regardless, she didn’t want to leave him alone in favour of her own comfort. Slightly frustrated she glared at her boyfriend, “And leave you alone?!” she questioned in a raised voice. “If you think I’ll let that happen ever again, you’re wrong, Potter.”

He breathed in deeply and replied, “I—I just don’t want you to lose your parents. I grew up without mine, and my childhood was bloody horrible. You should spend some time with them, to avoid this, I don’t want you to lose your family.” While rubbing her hands, with his own.

“I’ll talk to them tomorrow,” she dismissed. Looking down at his soft touch, Hermione spotted that Harry’s hands were splattered in blood and his knuckles bruised. “Oh, Harry, your hands…”

“Hermione, just get some rest, please,” he insisted, attempting to change topics.

She fixed him with a serious gaze, “Harry, when will you realise I will always put you first?! No matter what you do, who you hurt, or—” she paused, wondering if she should continue. “Or who you kill, I will always be there.” His lips parted as if to respond, but it seemed that she had rendered him speechless, “Now let’s take turns and have showers, we need to get out of these blood-stained clothes.”

He sighed, “Okay, but afterwards we’re going to get some rest okay?”

She shot him an adoring smile, “Of course, now go.” When he didn’t move she waved her hands and more forcefully said, “Go.”

He rolled his eyes but went off to do as he was told, although his smile was evident.

After taking a quick shower where he managed to rinse off any blood of Dolohov that he had on him he came back into the living room, towards a quiet Hermione. He gave her a soft smile and walked up to her.

Harry noticed that she had cleaned her hands, but she still seemed a bit distraught but whether it was over her parents’ conditions, or what she had done to Dolohov, he wasn’t sure. 

When he was directly in front of her, he brought her into a soft kiss, which was reciprocated almost instantly. After separating Hermione gave him a small smile, “What was that for?”

He shrugged, and nonchalantly replied, “You seemed like you needed it.” He paused before asking with a smirk, “Feel better?”

Her eyes had a playful glint, “Yes, thank you. I’m going to go take a shower now, meet back here?”

“Sure thing.”

He smiled at her, but Hermione was having none of that, and being mindful of the blood on her brought him into another, more passionate kiss. She winked on her way out.

Harry’s gaze didn’t stop following his girlfriend until she left the room. 

Never knew her to be so feisty, thought Harry. Not that he minded one bit, it was great that he could have just as much if not more fun with her rather than Ron. 

Do you even need Ron now? Said a dark voice in his head. He shook his head, ignoring such a thought. But it didn’t stop his doubts of his so-called best friend rising back up.

Harry brought his mind back to the conversation they had before he washed up. He knew that she was loyal but like that loyal?! I guess I have never really thought about how devoted she truly is to me. I mean she said I could kill people and she’d still be there. And I suppose, considering what we just did, that proved that she was completely serious.

This train of thought caused him to look back at Dolohov’s body. While it had only been thirty or so minutes since they killed him the smell was quickly becoming unbearable, and he knew that the smell of decomposition would take hours to be noticeable, so presumably Dolohov had literally shat himself. 

He must’ve been really scared of two teenagers to do that… and rightfully so.

He knew he’d have to discuss with Hermione on what they were supposed to do with the body, let alone move it without magic.

Moving a body? I’m saying that as if it’s a common occurrence… What’s wrong with me?!  

And thinking about his own sanity led to an even darker and scarier thought. The fact that he didn’t feel guilt over killing the Death Eater.

Truthfully, he did believe that Dolohov truly deserved to die. And that they were indeed justified in killing him. But… There was no guilt, no regret nothing over the fact that he had just killed someone, a human being and not cared at all. 

Sure, Dolohov was a horrible person, a Death Eater, a fanatical racist pureblood who’d probably raped and killed more people than he could count on his fingers, and got away with all those crimes as well. 

But he was still human, with thoughts and dreams, and no matter how evil, bad or disgusting he was, he deserved to at least have some sympathy felt over his death, right?

There was nothing though. Harry felt there should be a part of him that felt something, some guilt after the act, yet it was like he was numb, or desensitised to such guilt.

Dolohov deserved to die , he told himself. He came here with one intent, and that was to torture and kill Hermione. The very fact that he went into a Muggle neighbourhood to do so, shows just how willing and determined he was to inflict pain on Hermione. And no one hurts my Hermione.

He nearly verbally snorted, My Hermione? She’s not some object that I own. But she’s my best friend, my girlfriend my —He decided not to continue that train of thought.

When he was beating the shit out of Dolohov, he knew he was in full control the whole time. He could’ve stopped himself at any time, yet he didn’t want to. It had only taken a second to figure out that the connection to Voldemort played little to no influence in what he did, as there was no pain from his scar, and hadn’t felt Voldemort attempt to reach into his mind since the Ministry. Additionally, his mental defences were improved as he’d done some Occlumency practice, even if it was limited. He was going to make sure to ask Hermione to help him, and maybe vice-versa, in case someone decided to attempt Legilimency on either of them. Which he wouldn’t put above Dumbledore, and certainly not Snape.

But no, he was the one who caused Dolohov’s face to become disfigured, due to excessive force. He was the reason… and it strangely felt good . He knew from some novels that when the hero kills the antagonist they don’t feel satisfied or justified with the act. Saying after that maybe it wasn’t the best choice to kill them. While he hadn’t actually committed the final act, he heavily contributed to it, and if given the chance he knew he would’ve been the one to slit Dolohov’s throat… Or maybe I’d stab the cunt in the chest and stomach multiple times till he bled out dry...

He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of these dark thoughts.

Am I a hero? Wondered Harry. Ever since he found out who his parents were he always wondered if he would become the hero that nearly everyone looked up to him as. And for the first five years at Hogwarts, it seemed like he lived up to people’s expectations, even if Dumbledore played a massive role in creating that perception of him. 

However, Harry knew that heroes should not take ‘pleasure’—Is that what it was?—In hurting people, regardless of who it was. That was the type of thing that Death Eaters took joy in. They took joy in hurting and killing innocent people. But then again, Dolohov was about the furthest person from innocent that Harry could think of, only being put below, Voldemort and Dumbledore.

He’d always wondered what the fine line was between the ‘light’ and the ‘dark.’ In second year, just because he had the ability to speak Parseltongue, the majority of the school believed him to be the next dark lord in training. Thinking that for some reason he’d petrify a bunch of Muggleborn students. Maybe it was all about a person’s perspective on the thing. And could a ‘dark’ wizard use magic against ‘evil?’ 

Why am I even thinking about this? He wondered, before chuckling bitterly to himself, Perhaps I am going dark. I mean it seems like all the evidence is pointing towards it… Next thing I know I’ll be a serial killer who targets Death Eaters…

...Is that such a bad thing?

The fuck! How is being a serial killer in any context, not a bad thing? What the hell is wrong with me?

He brought his hands up to his face and looked down, sighing defeatedly. He put one of his hands back on the arm of the couch before another, smaller hand grabbed his. 

“What are you thinking about?” asked Hermione as she rubbed her thumb in a pattern on his hand.

Looking up into those warm, chocolate brown eyes he couldn’t help but smile. There was just something about her eyes, that made Harry get lost in them so easily. While brown may be a more common eye colour, than his green, her eyes, and her eyes alone were a complete wonder to the raven-haired teen. Something which he had never appreciated in the past, but now he took more notice.

She was now fully cleaned up, wearing a summer dress he’d never seen before and a light overcoat on top. Her hair after being washed was a clean shade of brown, and curls galore. While he had never told her so, he loved her bushy hair much more than whenever she had tried to straighten it. It was just such a ‘Hermione’ look. And oh how he loved that look.

Forcing his gaze off the witch he briefly looked at the blood-stained carpet and the very obvious and evident body, he said, “We need to move his body first.” and turned back to her with a wry smile, “And then we’ll talk after.”

As he got up to move he heard her begin, “Wha—what I di—”

“Hermione I could never hate you… besides he did deserve it.” And gave her a soft-lingering kiss on the lips, before hugging her tightly, to which she responded with a sigh of content and relief. 

“Yes,” she practically whispered. “Yes, he did.” Her second sentence sounding dark and alluring.

Harry pushed her back softly so he could observe her features, where he spotted a tear slowly dripping down her face, and with his right index finger, went to wipe it away.

With a sniff and a teary smile, Hermione mumbled, “Thanks,” slightly embarrassed.

“Anytime, Hermione.” He trailed off, “Anytime…”

He put his forehead against hers where the duo stayed in comfortable silence, relishing their closeness, before Hermione broke the moment and asked, “Umm… how do we get rid of it?

He sighed, Right... that’s a good question. I have no idea how to move it via Muggle means and we can’t use magic… unless.

“Hermione, how does the Ministry track underage use of magic?” he asked.

“It detects when a student of Hogwarts uses magic in a Muggle prone area, there is no public information on how they track us, but I assume they put some sort of charm on us during first year.”

‘’Damn,” he muttered.

“Why? What was your idea?” inquired Hermione, interested to hear his potential idea.

“I thought we could maybe use Dolohov’s wand since I thought the Ministry tracked us through our wands,” he informed.

“That may be the case,” replied Hermione. “But if it isn’t, we could end up in deep trouble, especially considering you’ve already on your last leg for the underage use of magic.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Hermione, as if she had an idea.

“Oh?”

She shook her head, “God, I’m stupid.”

Harry scoffed, “Hermione you’re far from stupid. Trust me on that.”

She raised an eyebrow, “We both know a friend who can help us, without causing any trouble.”

Who? He instantly wanted to blurt out but decided to think on it first. Maybe it’d be better to think before acting all the time, as recklessness was likely to get him killed one day. 

After a few seconds he thought, Oh my god, I’m really just as illogical as other wizards…

“Right, Dobby, of course,” he said wanting to facepalm himself.

She gave a small smile, happy that he figured it out, which made him feel a sense of satisfaction. Neither of them had heard the quiet pop that sounded nearby.

He was about to call Dobby but first decided to glance once more at the body.

The body of Dolohov which should’ve still been on the carpet, with his face down. But there wasn’t anything there.

He shared a sideways glance with Hermione before an excited elf skipped in front of them.

“Uhh—Dobby? Hello?” said Harry slightly confused, not realising that he must have called the elf during their previous conversation.

“Dobby has taken care of the body,” said the house-elf with what Harry could only describe as an evil grin. One which sent a shiver down his spine. 

Maybe it’s better not to ask… thought Harry.

“Did you realise who that was Dobby?” asked Harry cautiously.

“Yes, Dobby know. It was Mister Dolohov, very bad friend of bad old Master Lucius. Dobby happy that Miss Miney and Master Harry Potter got rid of the bad man.”

Well, that was certainly blunt.

Hermione rose an eyebrow, “Master Harry Potter?”

He rolled his eyes, “Hermione is this the best time?”

She glared at him briefly and hissed, “Later then.”

He didn’t know why Dobby was calling him ‘master’ but he hoped he was doing it out of his free will, and not because he was bonded to him. Hermione would be furious if the latter was the case.

Harry gave a small nod but didn’t shy away from her gaze, before looking back at Dobby.

“Okay, well thank you Dobby.”

Dobby nodded his head and said, “Bad man had money on him,” and handed Hermione what must have been a sack of a few hundred galleons before he said his goodbyes and disappeared with a crack.

Harry smirked at Hermione, “Well, there’s some more money for your endless supply of books.”

“Prat,” she said while lightly punching him on the arm. “Is this really the best time for jokes?” she added with a raised brow but he didn’t miss the hint of a smile which broke through her expression.

“We may as well stay positive, right?”

She paused thinking about it before replying, “Yes, we should,” while beaming at him.

Hermione went to pass him Dolohov’s wand, “The wand feels dead to me, but I thought it may have some uses in the future.”

As he wrapped his hands around it he felt a familiar touch to it, not unlike the one from his own. It wasn’t as present as his phoenix feather wand, but regardless, it was still evident. Guess I’ll have to read up on some wand lore later then. I don’t recall ever getting this feeling from another wand.

“It doesn’t feel dead to me,” replied Harry. “It’s almost the same as when I touch my own wand, though I can feel the connection is weaker.”

Hermione frowned at this new development before she started to run off upstairs, calling out behind, “I have a book on Wandlore, I’ll be right back!”

He shook his head in amusement. Of course, Hermione would have a book on Wandlore.

A minute later a frazzled Hermione returned with a large book in her hand.

“Just how fast did you run?” asked Harry, amused.

She pursed her lips, “I said I’d be right back.”

“That you did,” he replied, amused.

Together they looked through the book for any relevant information as to why Harry would feel something from the wand but not Hermione. Well ‘together’ was a loose term. Truthfully Hermione was doing all the work and Harry was trying to skim read with her to the best of his ability. Though he never got past the halfway mark before she turned the page.

“Here,” she said and pointed at a paragraph. “A wand’s loyalty may change when the previous owner is defeated by another wizard or witch. Hence another reason as to the argument that the ‘Wand chooses the Wizard.’”

“So because I was the one who ‘defeated’ Dolohov, the wand now works for me?”

“Yes, I think that’s correct. So you may have little trouble casting spells with it, whereas someone like me who doesn’t have its loyalty would struggle to attempt magic with said wand,” she explained.

So apparently ‘disarming’ a wizard with the use of a golf club, and relentlessly hitting said wizard caused Dolohov’s wand to change it’s loyalty to him. He wasn’t all that comfortable having Dolohov’s wand, but a spare wand may come in handy at some point. And he could always destroy it in the future. “I’ll keep it as a spare in case the need for it arises.”

“I agree, that’s a good idea. I doubt anyone will suspect you having another wand if you get disarmed.” She paused before changing topics and without asking Harry directly said, “How did Dolohov manage to find my address?”

“And better yet how did he get past the defences and order member Dumbledore promised to give us?” added Harry.

He watched as Hermione’s face turned to shock, “Oh, Harry. That means there will probably be a dead wizard outside.”

“Shit,” he responded before they both ran through the front door and outside gripping his phoenix wand, ready to strike in case there was another Death Eater around, he’d bear the consequences to ensure the Grangers were now safe.

Looking around he saw nothing, the front was completely clear and showed no evidence of any damage. There certainly wasn’t anybody lying in the open, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a dead Order member around.

“Oi!” cried out a slurred voice. “What are yous two doing out here? Dumbledore said you should stay inside.”

Yeah, cause a fat load of good that did .

“Who’s there?” asked Harry, while getting a grip on his wand.

“Finite” came a muffled voice before it revealed a person Harry loathed to see.

“Mundungus,” he said in a cold tone. He never liked the man, especially knowing that he was a former criminal and the one responsible for guarding him when the Dementors attacked Privet Drive. That whole event could’ve been avoided if he actually did his job, instead of having Harry cast his Patronus Charm to defend himself. 

Though I doubt he’d be able to cast anything remotely resembling the charm.

It also seemed that the aversive attitude was reciprocated for Mundungus disliked everyone but Dumbledore.

Fletcher held up a finger before downing the last drops of alcohol from a bottle. The two looked on in disgust at the image in front of them. It was obvious that Mundungus hadn’t seen or known about Dolohov before or after his death.

So that’s why we got no warning to Dolohov’s attack. This idiot was probably out buying a drink while Hermione and her family were attacked. If I wasn’t there…

“Now,” began Fletcher. “Dumbledore wants—” he paused, “—wants you inside for your safeeety.”

Harry nodded his head so that he’d think nothing was amiss. “Yes, sorry about that, Mr Fletcher, we’ll be on our way,” said Hermione while nudging Harry back inside.

Mundungus looked at them as if he was going to say something before shrugging and casting a disillusionment charm on himself.

Once inside the confines of the kitchen, Harry began, “The fucking idiot didn’t even know that a Death Eater appeared and nearly killed you and your family!? I’m beginning to wonder if Dumbledore purposefully ordered Mundungus there and failed to put up any wards. Because I’m sure if there were any, Dolohov would’ve had a much harder time going unnoticed. And how did he even get access to your address in the first place? Let alone get the idea to knock instead of barging in. Clearly, someone gave him, the Death Eater the idea, for such a concept would’ve been foreign to him.”

“Harry,” tried Hermione.

He continued, not hearing Hermione, “And if someone else gave him the idea this means that they’ll know he was going after you. If the Death Eaters find out, you’ll most certainly be a bigger target.”

“Harry.”

Harry looked down and put his head in his hands, “This is all my fault,” he mumbled.

“Harry!” yelled Hermione, while hitting the table.

Finally, her voice rang through to him; which caused him to look at her, who was gazing back with a serious look.

“Stop. Blaming. Yourself.”

“Wha—”

“Honestly, Harry. I thought you had outgrown your ‘blame-yourself-for-everything’ syndrome. You should—no—will stop blaming yourself.”

“Ah—” he began with an open mouth but noticing Hermione’s intense gaze he decided not to argue. “You’re right.”

“Tell me how this is your fault? Dolohov was coming only for m—wait, what? Did you just agree?”

He chuckled in response and with a cheeky grin replied, “Yes.”

Hermione had the most peculiar face Harry had ever seen before. She obviously didn’t think that he’d actually agree with her on this matter. After years of being Hermione’s friend, Harry knew better than to argue some points.

“You’re right. This isn’t my fault, at least directly.” He held up a hand to stop her silent protest and continued, “Dolohov came here to kill you, and clearly had no idea I was even there. Dumbledore’s defences also failed, assuming that he even put any up,” he said with a scowl. “I just—dread to think what would’ve happened if I wasn’t here Hermione… And you can’t deny that Dolohov was only here because of events last year, which were caused by me.”

She dramatically rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh, “Well... at least it’s progress.”

He gave her a sheepish smile in response.

“Now… regarding Dobby.”

He raised his hands in surrender, “I swear! I have no idea why he called me master.”

She looked at him with a critical gaze, “Okay, well let’s clarify with the house-elf himself then.”

Harry gulped, hoping that he wasn’t actually Dobby’s master. Firstly, he didn’t want to be. Secondly, he most definitely did not want to face Hermione’s wrath. Lastly, he had no bloody idea of how he could’ve possibly bonded with the over-excited elf.

“Dobby!” he called out.

“Yes Master Harry Potter?” said Dobby magically appearing right in front of them with a pop.

He saw Hermione’s half-hearted glare at him, at that. “Okay Dobby, I need to clear something up… why do you call me Master?” he paused before cautiously asking, “We aren’t bonded are we…”

The house-elf fidgeted nervously with his tiny fingers before finally replying, “No, we’s aren’t bonded. Dobby’s a free elf, Dobby like being a free elf! He just wanted to call the Great Harry Potter, Master.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione let out a sigh of relief and a moment later she wrapped her arm around Harry in apology.

“Well Dobby, we’d appreciate you just calling me Mr Harry Potter or Harry.”

“Wait!” interrupted Hermione. “If you’re only doing it by choice Dobby, you’re free to call Harry whatever you want.” Harry turned to look at his girlfriend who was wearing a bright smile and was slightly flustered, probably due to her initial assumption being proven incorrect.

“Miss Miney is so nice!” exclaimed Dobby. “I’s be calling you Mistress Miney now!”

Harry trying to hold in his laughter said, “Yes you can, thank you Dobby.”

The little elf nodded his head in acknowledgment before disappearing with a crack. As soon as he disappeared Harry’s laughter filled the room.

While laughing he turned to look at Hermione to which he was surprised to see was trying to hold in her own laughter. He began laughing louder, causing Hermione to finally let out her own laughter.

After the duo stopped their laughing fit, which must’ve been a couple of minutes Hermione said, “So does that mean Dobby thinks we’re married?”

Keeping up the act he said with a wink, “Would that be such a bad thing?”

She responded with a kiss, and then another. 

“Anyway, we’re much too young for that,” she said bringing back seriousness. “Why don’t we get some rest, hmm? It’s been a long day,” suggested Hermione.

“That sounds like a good idea,” replied Harry.

She hummed in response and the two made their journey upstairs. After Hermione had checked on her parents and told him they were fast asleep, Harry noticed within seconds that Hermione didn’t seem to be entirely there and was pondering something, “What’s on your mind?”

“Huh?” she replied automatically. “Oh, nothing,” she added, dismissing him.

He rose his eyebrows at her in a way which said, ‘bullshit.’

“Okay, fine.” She stopped straight in front of her door and looked around nervously as if afraid someone was looking at them. “We’re ‘together’ now right?”

“If you mean by ‘together’” replied Harry, using air quotes, “You mean, girlfriend and boyfriend, yes of course. Considering that we kiss, snuggle and I literally asked you if you wanted to be my girlfriend and you agreed, yes.”  It was quite an outlandish question from Hermione, for Harry thought that it would’ve been quite obvious that they were, having just listed off the reasons. He tilted his head and added, “I thought you were usually the one to list off these things, not me… Is everything all right between us?”

She gave him a genuine smile and replied, “Yes, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be, we’re both happy, right?” He nodded in response. “So we can—” she give him a weird look and used her hands to motion towards her room.

Surely she doesn’t mean that , thought Harry. “Hermione, I’m pretty daft, I don’t think I understand what you’re implying… if you know what I mean.”

It took her a moment to understand his meaning before her face turned a deep scarlet and she stammered, “No—no not that... ‘at least not yet,’” though Harry wasn’t sure if the last bit was a whisper or his own imagination. Hermione shook her head out of the embarrassment and looked up at him and simply asked, “Can we just rest together ? It was really nice the last time.”

Which caused him to recall ‘the last time’ with a smile, having been the first night he arrived, which eventually resulted in their first kiss in the morning. “Yes, it really was. And of course, Hermione. Besides,” he gave her a sheepish smile, “I don’t think I could deny you anything.”

“I might hold you to that,” she said with a smirk before the two made their way inside. After Hermione took off her outer layer Harry looked slightly embarrassed at her exposed skin, causing her to roll her eyes and say, “Seriously…”

“Sorry, just, you are beautiful,” to which she gave him a thankful smile.

They didn’t bother changing into their nightclothes, instead keeping the clothes they changed into after their shower, as their relationship was still relatively new. But once they got in bed any awkwardness seemed to dissipate almost instantly. They had at first laid side by side both looking up into the ceiling, but within seconds Harry couldn’t help but cuddle Hermione from behind, something which was met with a sound of content and no resistance.

He found that putting his arms around something helped him relax, especially when that something was Hermione. 

“Goodnight,” said Harry with a kiss on her bushy mane.

He barely heard her whispered response, “Night.”

With Hermione curled in his arms, he attempted to find sleep, but with the day’s events, he was far from tired, as his brain was thinking madly about, Dolohov, Dumbledore, Death Eaters and the beautiful witch in his arms. 

They laid there in silence, with the only sounds being that of passing cars in the neighbourhood. It must have been twenty minutes before Hermione called out his name.

“Harry?” whispered Hermione.

“Yes?” he whispered back.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Neither,” he replied and felt Hermione shift her body around so she was facing him.

While the room was dark he saw her face morph into a lazy grin, “Looks like we’re in a bit of a predicament then.”

“Why don’t we just talk then?”

“What about?”

Random inconsequential, things preferably… but what would be the point in that? He thought to himself. Maybe I should talk about what’s eating me up on the inside, I trust no one else to tell them to. Not Dumbledore, not Ron but always Hermione, always . 

“Hermione, am I a monster?”

She frowned at that, “What do you mean, Harry? How could you possibly be a monster?”

“You saw what I did to Dolohov.”

She sat up straight, her head leaning on the bed head, “Okay, Harry, let me ask you this. Do you see me as a monster?”

“What, no. Never,” he replied scandalised. 

She raised an eyebrow, “Harry, if you don’t see me as a monster, how could I? Remember I was the one who killed Dolohov, not you, me .”

He took a moment to realise that he had been focusing too much on himself and not on Hermione, How does she feel after what she did? Maybe she’s barely hanging on but is instead helping me with my problems instead of dealing with her own.

But before he could voice his concern for her she mumbled, “Maybe I am a monster.”

“Hermion—”

“It felt satisfying,” she confessed. “Killing Dolohov.”

He was speechless, never in a million years did he think that Hermione, good, loving and caring Hermione would feel such things. But he’d be a hypocrite to think wrongly of her, considering that he felt the same way.

Spotting his shocked face seemed to break down Hermione’s dam, “See now you’re disgusted, frightened. I don’t even know why I whispered those words to him, reminding him that a Muggleborn killed him. It’s cruel, isn’t it? Like why did it feel satisfying, justified? I know we agreed that Death Eaters need to die, but the act shouldn’t feel like that should it?” He was still trying to figure out how to reply when Hermione said, “Shit,” a curse he’d never heard uttered by Hermione. As she tried to get up and leave the bed, Harry refused by grabbing her wrist.

“Harry?” she questioned.

“I meant what I said before Hermione, I could never hate you.”

She relented in her attempt to escape and replied, “But how Harry? I—”

He gave a wry grin, “You forget sometimes, Hermione. But we really are quite similar and it applies here too… I don’t regret bashing up Dolohov, just like I don’t regret attending Hogwarts, or meeting you, or having our first kiss.” saying the last part with a reminiscent smile. “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you how wrong it is to feel like that because I’d be a hypocrite if I did.

“I felt it too, the satisfaction, the lack of guilt, the sense of justice. And now all I want to do is do the same or even worse to Voldemort and all his Death Eaters. Return the treatment they have given to so many innocents before making them die so they can’t pose a threat any longer.”

Hermione had watched him wide-eyed and replied with a simple, “Same.”

They entered an uncomfortable silence, where Harry could feel the tension in the air brewing. He let out a dark chuckle, “God, we’re both broken...”

“Maybe everyone is in their own way,” she replied after a few moments but didn’t argue his point.

He silently agreed with her. Still, he knew Ron, Dumbledore and his friends would only see their actions as black and white; proof that he, and now Hermione were turning to the dark.

It was left unsaid but maybe they were both in some form or another, monsters. Maybe not towards each other but to open society who look down upon these type of practices. 

Maybe that’s all life was, Harry mused. Some event or catastrophe that forces people to change whether for better or worse. Even if that includes doing unconventional decisions, but never losing hold of everyone.

Harry gave her an encouraging smile, “Come closer, Hermione. Let’s just rest and deal with this another time.”

Hermione smiled back and shuffled over to him, where he wrapped his arms tightly around her. 

Harry had discovered in recent days that the most satisfying feeling of all was having the bushy-haired witch right next to him, wherever that may be. Nothing could compare to that.

Chapter Text

For the next couple of weeks, things went relatively smoothly, considering Dolohov’s attack. The first day after the incident, Hermione and Harry cooked breakfast together, in an attempt to loosen any tension between the Granger parents and themselves. The cooking itself proved to be very enjoyable for the both of them and they found they could cook in tandem. However, right after everyone had eaten, Helen and Robert demanded to have a conversation regarding everything that had transpired. Helen’s shock and fear from the previous day had vanished and was replaced by anger and maybe a hint of sadness.

So they had explained everything that had happened at school, and in the Wizarding World for the past five years. They told her parents about the Basilisk, and how Hermione was petrified. Suffice to say that they were not happy with this newfound information, but had eventually accepted that Hermione was practically an adult, maybe not in age, but certainly in terms of maturity, and so had let the incident slide.

In a way, it was almost amusing to see Helen and Robert gasp and look at him sympathetically when he told them about his dangerous near-death experiences. Most notably, his death-defying Quidditch encounters, the entire Tri-Wizard Tournament, and his multiple encounters with Voldemort.  Prior to that conversation, he and Hermione talked and agreed to omit the true events of what happened at the Department of Mysteries since they were afraid of the Grangers’ reaction to Hermione being right on death’s doorstep for days on end, all the while enduring excruciating pain. And considering their reaction to learning that Hermione fought Dolohov—sending both parents into anguish, even causing Robert to lash out at Harry for bringing Hermione with him on his ‘adventure’—suffice to say, it definitely appeared to be the correct choice on their part.

Being blamed for Dolohov had caught Harry off guard, but he would be lying if he did not have those very same thoughts. But it had seriously hurt the young wizard. Unbeknownst to Robert, he had become—of sorts—a father figure to Harry. While he had only known him for a few days, he immensely enjoyed being in the man’s presence. It was relaxing to be in the company of someone who had little contact with the wizarding world, someone who was completely down to earth. And he was definitely a respectable figure in Harry’s mind. He did raise Hermione, after all .

So when Robert had snapped at him and began telling him how it was his fault, it was almost the same as being stabbed with a knife to the heart. Before he even had a chance to defend himself, his girlfriend had stepped in and took a stance with him instantaneously. 

“This is in no way Harry’s fault,” she told her father coldly.

Robert visibly flinched before recovering and angrily retorting, “How is it not? You said it yourself that you knew it was a trap, yet he forced you to go anyway.”

Hermione reacted by glaring at Robert with a look that was previously reserved entirely for Ron, “He didn’t force me to do anything. I chose to go. I chose to come with him, and no one forced me.”

Mr Granger didn’t seem convinced. “Really? Why don’t I ask Harry myself, then?” And turned his gaze towards the teen in question.

Instead of shying away and capitulating to his fears, Harry decided to stand and fight for both Hermione’s word and himself. “I didn’t force Hermione to come with me, nor any of my friends. In fact, I actually wanted to go there alone . But of course, Hermione wouldn’t let such a thing happen. I knew the risks, as did Hermione, and yet we went there anywhere. Sirius was my family and one of the last connections to my parents, so yes, I did act irrationally but also out of necessity, something which Hermione understood. And frankly, I find it insulting that you’re doubting the integrity of your own daughter. Who, by the way, is the best and most loyal person I have ever and will ever meet.”

While he was admittedly embarrassed by his outburst, he didn’t let it show on his face. And in a way, it was good practice for when he would have to face Dumbledore or any other authority figure in the future. He still hoped he could repair his rapidly deteriorating relationship with Robert.

Hermione slightly flustered added, “See! And if you want to blame anyone, blame the Death Eaters! They’re the ones responsible. Harry is my best friend, and if you attack him over this ever again, I’m telling you, I will choose his side over yours.” To which Helen let out a small gasp.

Robert was about to get up and yell back in response, but a shocked Helen put a hand on his shoulder and whispered something to him.

Instead of following through with what he was about to do and potentially lose his daughter forever, Robert paused and let the words of the two teenagers sink in. After what must have been an eternity, he ran a hand nervously through his hair before apologising, “I—I’m really sorry, honey… and you too, Harry. I don’t normally jump to conclusions but I think I’ve needed some kind of outlet since yesterday.”

“Things yesterday weren’t exactly normal…” commented Hermione.

Helen—who had been scarily silent throughout the exchange—asked, “Y—you keep talking about these ‘Death Eaters’ but haven’t explained who they are, or what they do...” 

Harry and Hermione shared a glance in silent conversation about deciding who would explain first, to which he gave her a short nod.

“These Death Eaters are fanatical wizards and witches with many similarities to the Nazis. Essentially just switch Aryan with Pureblood, and Jews with Muggles and Muggleborns. The Death Eaters are hellbent on subjugating those below them.” He paused before asking a moment later, “Should I continue?”

Helen and Robert nodded in agreement, but their faces wore a weary expression, clearly not liking where this was going. 

Hermione elbowed him, causing him to continue the explanation, “These fanatics follow their leader, ‘Lord Voldemort,’ a dark wizard who unwittingly made me famous as a baby.”

Helen’s face lit up in recognition, “Hermione told us the story of how you are famous for killing some dark lord! And this is the same wizard who was resurrected at the end of your fourth year?”

Harry nodded grimly in response.

“God,” gasped Robert, and Helen’s breathing hitched momentarily.

“And if these Death Eaters win this new war,” began Harry. He paused and looked directly into Helen’s eyes before continuing, “It’s likely that they will kill every Muggle and Muggleborn they come across, innocent or not. They’re already in the highest positions in our society, which favours the purebloods over half-bloods and Muggleborns. A word that these fanatics often call Muggleborns is ‘Mudblood,’ which I’m sure you heard Dolohov use before. It means ‘dirty blood’ and is perhaps the foulest and most derogatory term in the Wizarding World.”

“Okay…” began Robert slowly, taking some time to process everything. “You’ve told us who they are but why did you have to ki—finish him off? Why not let the authorities take over?”

“Because, Dad, the authorities are practically useless. Nearly every single Death Eater we know about is a free man or woman, and with the society and especially the Ministry, being biased towards purebloods, it’s likely he would have avoided incarceration. We couldn’t let that happen again…”

Robert ran his hand through his hair, “God. You’re both justifying killing people, do you completely understand that?”

“Yes, we do,” said Harry.

“It’s war,” supplied Hermione.

“And in a war, it’s either kill or be killed. It’s us or them. If we only leave them incapacitated and alive, we give them a chance to rise back up and finally finish us off. That’s a chance we can and will not make,” Harry explained further.

The two worried parents then whispered to one another for a short while, before Robert spoke again, “Neither of us agree in what you two are doing, but... we understand your reasons.” He paused and fixed Hermione with a gaze, “You’re still you, right, honey?”

Hermione gave a sad smile, “Of course I am. Nothing will ever stop me loving you.” And quick as a flash, she was upon her two parents, hugging them tightly. Harry watched it play out with a happy smile. 

Though Hermione didn’t directly say it, her parents got the underlying message that if they did anything to Harry, there would most certainly be love lost between Hermione and her parents. 

And so weeks passed, where there was an obvious tension between the two couples, but as it was said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ And by the end of the third week, all tension had gone, replaced by a comfortability Harry had never felt before. He truly felt a part of the family, even if it wasn’t his, and was a vastly different dynamic to the Weasleys. Sometimes he wondered, had his parents lived, would he have the same experience as he had now. Although he resolved to avoid dwelling on the past.

Harry and Hermione also fell into a new habit.

That same night after they had explained everything to Helen and Robert, Harry went to his bedroom intending to fall asleep. But he ended up staring at the ceiling for a solid hour, finding no rest. A while later, Hermione had snuck in and said that she couldn’t sleep, as well. She laid beside him without any concern for what her parents’ would think—they were a couple after all—even if they hadn’t told the Granger parents yet. He was too tired to argue and considering that those nights he had held Hermione were the times he rested the best, he was all too ready to agree to let her sleep beside him. So every single night from then on, they had slept in the same bed together.

Incidentally, their habit of falling asleep together meant that they slept in their pyjamas, which both of them found to be more comfortable, especially when they held each other in their arms. Harry found he rather liked being ‘little spoon,’ making him feel more content than when he held Hermione. If they were inseparable before, they were more so now.

Every day, Harry woke up to a beautiful bushy-haired brunette lying right next to him. Sometimes, he would find his face buried inside in her soft bushy mane, where he would then often smile before kissing the back of Hermione’s neck, causing her to groan in annoyance before turning to him with a snarky remark. Other times, he would wake up to find Hermione close to him, watching as he slept, and it was a sight Harry knew he would never get tired of waking up to.

Suffice to say, Harry was not looking forward to sleeping alone in the boy’s dormitory.

I’ll just have to make sure I ‘accidentally’ fall asleep with Hermione in the common room, thought Harry.

On another note, Harry and Hermione were glad that both Robert and Helen were happy with their newfound relationship, upon informing them. It seemed like Robert lost some kind of bet, because while he was happy for the two of them, his face was grim at times, whereas Helen had a glint in her eye and a triumphant smile whenever she looked towards her husband.

And so this meant that they no longer had to hide their relationship, though from the looks Harry noticed from Helen before and after they had told them perhaps they were not as discreet as they thought. The first thing Hermione suggested was that they spend a night in her room. He found it a lot more relaxing than his bland and generic guest room, especially since her room had a very Gryffindor and magical feel to it. From then on, they stayed in her room.

Crookshanks seemed to appreciate this new change, now that his mistress was back in the room in which he slept. When the half-Kneazle noticed Harry in close proximity to Hermione in bed, he stared at Harry for the entire first night, making it hard for Harry to sleep, but Hermione’s presence and assurances quickly rectified this. Upon waking up, Harry found the cat still staring at him, but once Crookshanks spotted Hermione’s smile as she slept, he mewled and moved closer to Harry, demanding attention.

From then on Crookshanks had gone back to his usual friendly demeanour towards Harry, apparently having deemed him ‘worthy’ of his mistress. He would almost choke at such an idea but he knew that Crookshanks had an intelligence that was on par with humans. Besides, Harry really did like the yellow-eyed fluffball. And it seemed to make Hermione happier than usual when she saw him bonding with her pet. He supposed it was the same feeling he got whenever he spotted Hermione bonding with Hedwig. It was a sense of acceptance. A wonderful warmth that she accepted another part of him, and couldn’t help but appreciate the similarities between them. Both were fiercely loyal and protective of him, just like he and Crookshanks were of Hermione.

Hermione also had other reasons for wanting to be back in her room, namely having books readily available to read before sleeping. After sarcastically asking Hermione if she could read a chapter aloud to him, they had fallen into another habit. Harry never thought Hermione’s voice could be any more harmonic than it already was, but the way she read through novels made it feel so alive and interesting. Maybe if she talked this way when explaining theories in school, he would have been keener to study and work hard. But then again, Harry didn’t want Ron or anyone else to hear Hermione’s ‘storytelling voice.’ It was selfish and maybe possessive in a way, but he liked to think that Hermione only used the voice for him.

He once caught himself daydreaming, as he listened to Hermione as she read from one of the many books they were studying.

An older Hermione sat at a nook somewhere, enjoying the summer sun through the glass window. A little girl, around the age of four or five with dark curls on her head, ran towards her. Instead of being annoyed at the interruption, a smile of pure happiness grew on Hermione’s lips as she turned to the approaching footsteps.

“Mummy!” The tiny girl had called out to her. Hermione reached out her arms and readily caught the child.

“Hello, darling! Did you have fun with Daddy?” She asked as she pulled the little girl into her arms.

“Yes! Too bad you couldn’t come with us, though!”

“Well, how can I make it up to you?” She had a glint in her eyes, as if she already knew what the little child was going to answer.

“Will you read to me, Mummy?” The girl pleaded, giving her the best puppy dog eyes, likely learned from her father.

“Of course, love.” Then she turned towards him with a smile, just as the young girl in her arms did. Her green eyes, much like his own, were bright with joy.

“Come on, Daddy!”

He shook his head in surprise at the vision his brain had conjured. While he knew that Hermione would be an amazing mother, their relationship was still quite new.

They had already done the hard part of getting to know each other, then becoming best friends. They probably knew more about one another and shared a deeper connection than most newlywed couples. But there was no need to rush, especially with things progressing at such a comfortable pace. Though ever since Harry had begun sleeping in Hermione’s room, things had gotten a lot more heated, with the use of their tongues when kissing, necking, and even some exploring touches around each other’s body. But things had not progressed beyond that.

When they were not watching movies, reading books, or spending some ‘alone’ time with each other, the couple were hard at work studying. True to his word, Harry started taking his studies more seriously. The couple often spent hours on end expanding their knowledge of defence, charms, transfiguration, and the like. 

Harry also found studying with Hermione to be easier than ever and that she was a lot more tolerating and accommodating to helping him than when she had to help him and Ron at Hogwarts.

When he asked about it, she replied, “It’s because you’re taking this seriously, and actually listen to what I have to say. Back at school, you and Ron barely ever paid attention. Goofing around and slacking off a lot, so of course, I was going to get annoyed with you both. But now you’re putting in the effort, and I’m willing to help you in whatever capacity needed.”

She fixed him a serious gaze. “Besides, you have some really good ideas. I don’t think my Charms essay would’ve been up to standard without that idea of yours.”

He smirked. “Did the genius just commend my intelligence?”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” She then tapped his head with her quill. “Maybe you shouldn’t have such a big ego, mister.”

I think I’ve learnt more in the past couple of weeks than my entire fifth year at Hogwarts, mused Harry.

In fact, he really wished he had taken studying seriously in previous years. He remembered the first time he got an Outstanding on a defence assignment and the exhilaration that came with it. It was no wonder that Hermione always strived to do her best, and inadvertently defy blood purity beliefs that Purebloods were superior to Muggleborns in every way.

But then again, if he excelled in classwork, he would end up getting even more attention than he already had. With the war beginning anew, there would most certainly be students willing to pass on information to his enemies. If they found out about his efficiency in learning, Voldemort may regard him with more caution. Having Voldemort underestimate him would be a huge advantage, especially considering that the Dark Lord had more than fifty extra years of experience over him.

He told Hermione about his reluctance to excel in school and she agreed that it would be better for him to be seen as average, academically, so to not lose the element of surprise. She also added that Ron would be extremely jealous if Harry suddenly got much better marks than him. But in all honesty, Harry didn’t really care what Ron thought.

It seemed that every day as he grew closer to Hermione, the more he realized how much Ron lacked at being a decent friend. Still, his other best friend had not done anything recently to cause a fracture in their friendship, and so Harry had kept in contact with Ron via letters, which were sparse and it often took days for Ron to respond. His responses were often short and uninformative leading Harry to wonder if Ron resented his decision to stay at the Grangers rather than the Burrow.

If that’s the case, Ron seriously needs to become more mature. I’ve been to the Burrow multiple times for prolonged visits, he shouldn’t be angry at me for spending time with my other best friend.

Regardless, they had agreed that Harry should keep studying non-school assignments to his personal best, where Hermione would then critique him just like any other Professor. As he compared feedback he received from Hermione and their Professors, Harry found his girlfriend’s to be way more informative and useful than the one-sentence responses his teachers gave him. He seriously wondered why Hogwarts was considered one of the best wizarding schools in Europe, considering the quality of teachers such as Snape and practically every new Defence Professor.

Harry remembered Dumbledore talking about recruiting a new teacher and hoped that the new professor, who would likely be teaching DADA, would prove to be capable of actually teaching students the necessary skills and techniques so they could defend themselves. Though considering events of previous years, he wondered if Dumbledore had some ulterior motive for choosing this specific teacher, especially considering that he wanted him to help in the recruiting process. 

I hope that the new professor isn’t another bloody Lockhart. That just wouldn’t do.

While they were unable to do any practical magic due to the age restriction, the couple still used their time wisely with basic training in whipping up their wand, or in practice with a substitute stick to prevent accidentally casting a spell. They knew that their life would rest on every single second, so the faster their reactions, the better.

Additionally, since summer began, Harry had spent some time doing physical exercises. Not overly much, but some sit-ups here and some push-ups there, which helped him feel stronger. Hermione had also informed him how much she liked his more defined muscles, causing him to blush in embarrassment which never failed to amuse the brunette. But he would also admit that he enjoyed making Hermione blush.

It would also seem that Dumbledore had replaced Mundungus with other witches and wizards for guard duty for the next couple of weeks. They first noticed it when they saw a pink-haired woman, waving her wand in intricate ways the day after Dolohov attacked. They recognized the witch to be Tonks as she put up charms and wards around the Granger property—which should have been there from the beginning of summer. 

Still… better late than never .

They thought about striking up a conversation with the young Auror but decided against it because they were still unsure where the woman’s true loyalties lie. With how involved Dumbledore had been in Harry’s life, neither wanted to draw more attention to themselves than necessary.

Besides, things were currently looking up for Harry Potter, why do anything to endanger it?

Huh? Where’s Hermione? This is the first time I’ve woken up with her not next to me .

He instantly sat up and looked around the room, and after a few moments of investigation, it was clear she wasn’t in the room.

Just as he finished that line of thought the door opened to reveal his cheerful girlfriend, still only clad in her nightgown and carrying a tray with two plates on top, filled with eggs and bacon.

“Happy Birthday,” she said in a soft voice and a small smile.

“Hermione, you didn’t—” began Harry.

“Oh, shush you,” interrupted Hermione. She set the tray down on the bed, walked up to his side of the bed before leaning over and pulling him into a lingering kiss.

Just as Harry was getting lost in the sensations, Hermione began to pull away but he brought his hand behind her neck so she couldn’t escape far.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” He breathed against her with a raised brow.

“Harry, you need to get up. Lazy arse,” she replied but her eyes had a playful glint.

He smirked and looked straight into her dark chocolate eyes before speaking. “But like you said: it’s my birthday today.” And with a small squeal from Hermione, he pulled her onto his lap.

Conceding to him, she rolled her eyes before straddling him and kissing him passionately. Without resistance, Harry’s tongue found its way into Hermione’s mouth and caressed hers. The overwhelming sensations caused him to groan his pleasure. Taking charge, his girlfriend pushed him up against the headboard and leaned her whole body against his without breaking their kissing.

His hands roamed her body, as if having minds of their own, and hers weren’t idle, either. He broke away from their kiss and quickly latched onto Hermione’s neck before she voiced any protest. The combinations of his lips and tongue on the sensitive skin of her neck caused her to moan in bliss. He knew Hermione could clearly feel his hardness under her, but she didn’t seem to mind and made no comment about it. Their intense snogging and heavy petting continued for a few minutes more before Harry broke away from her lips. Silently staring at each other, they tried to return their breathing back to normal. Harry didn’t stop himself from leaning in and capturing her lips with his again, this time for a gentle and tender kiss. He only wanted to enjoy the sensation of her against his lips while conveying his feelings of love towards the brunette on his lap.

When the kiss ended, he wrapped his arms tightly around Hermione, pulling her closer to him. As if she was made for him, her body fit snugly against him, her head resting on his chest. 

It took them a minute to gather their breaths. “I did make breakfast for you which, mind you, is probably cold now because of the activities you drew us into.”

Hermione shifted so she was looking up to him with her dark brown eyes and with a bright smile he replied. “Doesn’t matter. I’m sure it will be just as delicious. And as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me…” She tilted her head and gave him a curious look. “You didn’t have to do anything for me today.”

He paused, lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. “I already received the best possible gift, right here next to me. You.”

She blushed at his statement and with the cutest smile, he had ever seen on her, replied, “That’s all well and good, Harry, but you’re being quite silly. I already spend all day and night with you, what could possibly make me the best gift that you received?”

He shook his head, “Don’t you see, Hermione? You’re the reason for my happiness, the reason for my passion, my rock, my reason to keep on fighting. I don’t need anything else, just you… and I absolutely love you for it.”

“Harry?” Questioned Hermione in a whisper.

“Huh, guess that's another thing that’s true,” began Harry almost chuckling. He focused his gaze on her eyes, trying his best to convey every emotion he felt when he said his next words with utter conviction. “I love you, Hermione Granger.”

He had always ‘loved’ Hermione in the previous years, but that was simply platonic love, and this was different. Romantic, passionate, an-all consuming love in its fullest capacity. His feelings for his best friend were completely overwhelming that everything else paled in comparison.

So yes, he did love her.

Hermione was rendered speechless but she didn’t seem shocked at his declaration. In fact, once she was done processing his words, her face lit up into a bright smile. “And I love you too, Harry James Potter,” she declared. They sealed it with a short kiss.

“Now, come on!” she said jumping off of him and pulling him upright. “You still have to eat the breakfast I made.”

“And what have you whipped up for us today, Miss Granger?” 

“Eggs and bacon, Mr Potter, with my own secret ingredient.”

After taking the first bite, and swallowing the delicious food he said, “Merlin, Hermione this is bloody amazing.”

“Glad you like it, because I was slaving around for an hour making it perfect.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Harry with a sad smile.

“Oh, Harry. Right, wrong choice of words. It was a joy to cook for you. This really is good, if I do say so myself.” She looked at him with piercing eyes, “Though… this would’ve been better if it was still hot.”

He rolled his eyes but was grinning like a fool.

After they finished breakfast, Hermione spoke. “Well, I still have a gift for you—well, a few actually.”

“Hermione—”

“No. This is going to be the best birthday you’ve ever had, Harry. I’ve got the whole day planned out. But for now, let me just go and get your main birthday present.” And before he had time to stop her, she had left with their empty plates in hand.

He almost wanted to tell Hermione that this was already his favourite birthday, one which would forever be ingrained into his memory. But he knew that Hermione wouldn’t be satisfied until he had seen the day through.

Taking advantage of Hermione’s absence, he got up and changed into some clothes for the day. He suspected that Hermione wanted to take him into the city, so he decided to wear nicer and better clothes than usual.

A few minutes later Hermione returned with a shy smile, and upon spotting Harry’s clothes, smiled more confidently. “Seems like you’ve already got an idea of what I have planned.”

“Wouldn’t be a very good best friend if I was clueless.”

“No, I suppose not.” And they both sat next to each other on the side of the bed. In her hands was a small box, wrapped in some colourful paper.

“Well, here it is. I hope you like it.”

I’ll probably like it no matter what it is, since you gave it to me , mused Harry.

Harry smiled and asked, “And where did you hide this gift?”

With a smirk, she replied, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Ever so slowly Harry undid the wrapping causing Hermione to say impatiently, “Oh just open it already, Harry.”

“But Hermione, I want to be careful with your present,” he mock whined before promptly ripping open the remaining paper. Upon seeing the gift, he gasped in amazement.

Inside the box was a silver-coloured pocket watch, with an engraving of a stag and doe, heads leaning against one another. He ran his fingers over the engraving, feeling the small crevices outlining the two animals.

A stag and doe… Dad and Mum’s patronuses. 

Harry looked towards Hermione with shining eyes. “I—”. He was simply speechless, he had no idea what to say. He never would have thought that such a simple thing could have such a profound impact on him.

“Open it,” she whispered with some nervousness.

His breathing hitched. There’s more? What could she possibly add… but trailed off upon opening the pocket watch.

Inside was a small clock with two hands, only that it was no ordinary clock. Much like the Weasley’s, it had various locations instead of the traditional number system, and two hands representing him and Hermione. Currently, they both pointed towards home.

“I’ve set home to the location of the pocket watch at the moment… but it can be changed to whatever you like in the future.”

Perhaps our future house , he mused. Or better yet her… because she’s my home now.

He was even more speechless, he simply didn’t know how to respond. He was about to turn to her when he spotted the inside of the lid containing a circular photo. The photo was of him and Hermione cuddling each other in an armchair, fast asleep. Helen or Robert must have taken the photo and he absolutely loved everything that it captured, from their smiles to the way they held one another.

“I know it’s a bit presumptuous—” she began.

“Hermione,” he interrupted finally gaining the ability to speak. “I love it. Everything about it. Thank you.” He immediately pulled her into a tight hug, before pressing a kiss to her lips, and then another… and another.

The day just kept getting better and better.

“Harry, Hermione! Are you ready to go yet?!” Called out Helen from downstairs.

He glanced at Hermione suspiciously, “What’s going on exactly? I already gathered we’re heading somewhere, but care to give a hint?”

With a mischievous smile, she answered. “Where’s the surprise in that?”

He grumbled in response, but her reply only increased his anticipation and curiosity. “Now why don’t you go downstairs and tell my mum I’ll be down in a few quick minutes. I still need to get dressed.”

“See you in a few then.”

Harry had been telling Hermione frequently that she was beautiful without any added cosmetics, so she had forgone wearing any makeup at his request. In return, he had asked if he should style his hair better, but Hermione objected. “Where would be the fun in running my hands through your ‘neat’ hair?” So they had both agreed not to change their appearances, besides they liked each other beyond their looks.

Robert and Helen had taken the day off so they could transport Harry and Hermione. They were all standing at the door when Hermione came downstairs and graced them with a smile. She was wearing shorts that ended just above her knees and a simple shirt, with her hair in its natural curly form. She walked up to Harry and pushed his fringe to the side, allowing her a clearer view of his face. In response, he tucked some hair behind her ear. Harry almost forgot that the two Granger parents were there until someone cleared their throat, dragging both teens back from their own little bubble.

Robert snickered. “Now, while the both of you may enjoy staring at each other for hours on end, I think it’d be good for all of us to get going. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck here forever.”

“Oh, Robert,” admonished Helen. “Let them be.”

Robert rolled his eyes in response, causing Harry to realise that maybe the Granger’s relationship was not that different from his and Hermione’s. Now that he was observing and noticing a lot more, he was becoming quite adept at reading people. He was learning to distinguish the tells of when a person was lying and could read what a person truly meant just by seeing the emotion conveyed in their eyes.

Upon leaving the house, they were stopped by a suddenly visible blonde, unlike anyone he had seen before.

“Wotcher Harry, Hermione and Hermione’s parents, where are y’all going?” Asked the witch with a suspicious gaze.

Realisation hit Harry, “Nymphadora?” And in the background, he heard Hermione breathe out a sigh of relief.

“‘Course it’s me, Harry,” replied Tonks slightly annoyed while changing her hair to brown, and her face back to its natural state. “But I must insist on you not calling me that name.”

“Sorry, Tonks ,” he corrected himself with an apologetic expression. “And I have no idea where we’re going, you’ll have to ask Hermione,” he added with a small smirk.

Tonks snapped her head to the witch in question, “And?”

“We’re taking Harry on a trip… somewhere in the Muggle World. But it’s a surprise for Harry.”

“But I can’t—” argued the metamorphmagus.

“You can’t let Harry go anywhere, per Dumbledore’s orders, right?” finished Hermione with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh…” The fact that Hermione knew what she was going to say had essentially rendered her speechless. Especially Hermione’s delivery which seemed cold, compared to the usual warmth she remembered. 

She eventually shook her head. “How did you know I’d say that? No, nevermind that. But seriously, I can’t let Harry leave, especially if I don’t know where you’re going.”

“Well, why don’t you come with us, then,” supplied Hermione.

“What?” Everyone but Harry asked, but he almost blurted it out, as well.

After taking in his previous observations, realisation came to him. I think I now know why Hermione was relieved before.

“Tonks, you know the Muggle World well, right? So what’s the harm in letting us go somewhere where Death Eaters would likely never set foot in?” Questioned Harry.

“And you’re a fully trained Auror, Tonks. What better protection could Harry have?” Added Hermione.

Tonks still seemed torn between following Dumbledore’s direct orders and the prospect of joining them on the trip.

With a pout and pleading eyes, Harry said. “It is my birthday today, Tonks. Surely we can let this one incident slide?”

“Oh, stop with the puppy dog eyes, Harry,” complained Tonks. She sighed loudly, “Fine! But if this comes back to haunt me, you’ll have bigger problems than Death Eaters.”

“I don’t doubt that,” replied Harry unseriously, sharing a look with Hermione.

“Wait. It’s your birthday today?” asked Tonks. After receiving a nod of confirmation, she commented, “Merlin, I’m so forgetful”

She fiddled around in her pocket before pulling out a few old letters. “Eh—I completely forgot that it was today. Remus gave these to me since he knew I would be on duty. He said it wasn’t much, but he was sure you’d appreciate it all the same. Can’t believe I forgot…” 

Lupin got something for me? He thought hesitantly.  

Harry took the letters slowly as if they were something precious.

“Oh! And here’s one directly from him, as well,” she added hastily.

Harry was now very intrigued by what these other letters were about if they were not from Lupin. 

He then passed them onto Hermione, who proceeded to place them inside her small magical bag, causing Tonks to give him a weird look. 

As Tonks stayed back and talked to the Grangers, Harry and Hermione walked to the car where he whispered into Hermione's ear. “Why exactly are we bringing Tonks along?”

“I didn’t want to sneak around all day, Harry. I thought it’d be better for all of us if she came with us. Besides, it’s added protection,” she whispered back.

“How’d you know it would be her?”

“Tonks was here for the last three Wednesdays and Sundays. I assumed it would be the same this week and formulated a plan around it.”

He chuckled before grinning at her. “You’re brilliant Hermione.”

She flashed him a bright smile. “You give me too much credit.”

“Credit you’re deserving of.”

Once they were inside the car, he asked with furrowed brows. “Puppy dog eyes?”

She giggled quietly. “Yes, Harry. And you use them quite well.”

He groaned audibly. “It wasn’t something I did consciously.”

The car ride was slightly cramped, fitting five people into the car, three of which were adults made for little room, but Harry didn’t find it that bad. In the back, he sat on the left side, with Hermione next to him, and Tonks on the other side of Hermione. 

Tonks’ presence led to conversations all around the car often relating to the metamorphmagus. Harry was particularly interested in how Tonks grew up with both wizard and Muggle heritage, something which he would have likely experienced if things were different.

Despite their best efforts, Harry and Hermione still found their hands unintentionally reaching for each other. Touching and feeling each other’s hands were almost instinctual, along with their tiny caresses. They even shared some silent conversations just by looking at each other.

“You two are dating, aren’t you?” stated Tonks bluntly having looked at the couple curiously for the last ten minutes. 

A sound perhaps resembling a laugh escaped Robert’s mouth.

Harry practically flinched at the directness of her question. “Umm—yeah, we are.”

“Though we’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else yet. We’d like to be the ones to tell our friends,” added Hermione.

Tonks lowered her voice to say. “Well, regardless of what others may say, I actually can keep a secret.” Then gave them a wink.

Unfortunately for Harry and Hermione, Tonks spent the remainder of the trip gushing about their relationship and how well they looked together. The two Granger parents also joined in on the conversation, stating how cute they were and how nice it was for them to look so happy, rather than acting like angsty teenagers. But it was all in good fun, despite the massive embarrassment for the young couple.

Finally, the car stopped in front of a beach—at least that’s what Harry assumed, having never seen one before.

They all got out of the car, and after overhearing a hushed conversation between Helen and Tonks, regarding ‘letting the kids have some time together,’ Harry and Hermione took off their shoes and walked hand in hand along the sand.

Harry found the beach to be peaceful and elegant, especially with Hermione walking with him. And as there was no one else, other than the three adults watching from afar, they were alone. They stayed at the beach for an hour or so before they decided to leave. Robert and Helen, however, seemed reluctant to leave as it seemed Tonks was entertaining them with some magic.

After that, they travelled to various places, including a museum, a fancy restaurant—and with Harry’s insistence—a bookstore. Claiming that he wanted to buy some books, but in reality, Harry just wanted to do something for his girlfriend. Sure, it was his birthday, but he enjoyed browsing books just as much as Hermione. He wouldn’t be surprised that they could both be dubbed as the ‘resident bookworms’ of Gryffindor, though he mused that people would just assume he was spending time with Hermione rather than actually studying.

He had loved to read and study books before Hogwarts, but upon entering school, he had gone down a path of laziness and procrastination. But now that Hermione was helping him, and the fact that he was finding it enjoyable, reading was fast becoming one of Harry’s favourite activities. 

While there were three other people on their little ‘expedition,’ they kept mostly out of the way. Harry got to spend quality time with Hermione in the muggle world, even if he did spot Tonks shadowing them with a different shade of hair at every location. Which—while annoying—gave them peace of mind, especially since it was Tonks and not someone unreliable like Mundungus. 

Finally, they ended their trip by going to the cinemas. Harry decided on Mission: Impossible , with Hermione by his side, and drinks in hand as they watched the cinema screen. The experience was monumentally more impactful than watching on the Granger’s television. The sound, screen size, and atmosphere created an exhilarating and suspenseful experience. 

After the film, Harry and Hermione talked about the film and both found particular interest in the creative ideas of which Muggles came up with. Such as the wearable mask, which they couldn’t help but compare to the polyjuice potion, even if the movie was complete fiction.

“The day is not over yet,” commented Hermione afterwards.

There’s more?! he thought incredulously. What more could she possibly have planned? She’s already made this day unforgettable and she’s going to add more to it?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said spotting his disbelief. “It’s just homemade dinner,” she added with a wink.

As he suspected Hermione’s last gift for the day was his favourite meal, courtesy of the three Grangers. 

Tonks sadly, could not join them, having to switch duty with another Order member. While Harry had been initially wary of Tonks, he admitted that she was kind of growing on him, and believed Hermione felt the same way. Ever since Harry opened his eyes to the old man’s manipulations, he realised Dumbledore held this demeanour around him that cried ‘superior’ and ‘all-knowing,’ which was only obvious to those not entranced by him. The way in which he talked to people lacked any sincerity, making Harry think that the Old Fool knew exactly what he was doing in order to persuade susceptible people, especially since it used to work so well on him. 

Tonks, however, was different. She made jokes, was often clumsy, and had a childish behaviour that made her easy-going, and her obvious reluctance to blindly follow the Headmaster’s orders after hearing their argument made her somewhat trustworthy. Harry knew first and foremost her loyalties laid with the Order, and then to the Auror department. Her willingness to listen, and her later assurances to not tell Dumbledore of what transpired, made him wonder of the possibility that she, too, was questioning the Headmaster’s motives. Perhaps they’d have some allies if things ever ‘went to shit,’ so to say.

After dinner, and the most delicious one yet, Harry and Hermione—with Dobby’s help—snuck back out to watch another movie at the cinema. With the day going quite well and both feeling happy, the two decided to watch a romantic comedy. While it was interesting and funny, Harry thought that it didn’t really reflect how a real relationship should work. His relationship with Hermione was perfect to him, even if he didn’t have romantic one-liners or made a fool of himself in front of others, the smile she flashed him afterwards told him she felt the same.

The couple finally retired for the night, but not before opening the various presents that had arrived throughout the day. Ron and Ginny had gifted him with various sweets, but Harry scowled at the comment Ron made about Hermione’s parents being dentists. Surprisingly, both Neville and Luna had also given gifts to him. Neville gave him old defence books from the Longbottom library, claiming that someone should appreciate them, rather than continue gathering dust. He also mentioned that his grandmother was more than fine with parting with them after learning that Harry Potter was the one responsible for Neville’s massive improvement in classes via the D.A. Luna’s present was a letter of gratitude and a lifetime subscription of The Quibbler. With The Daily Prophet continuing to cover up the true scale of the threat of Voldermort and his Death Eaters, it was a very welcome gift.

With the rest of the presents out of the way and Hermione by his side, Harry opened Lupin’s letter. The last living Marauder, the last true link to his parents had given him something. The thought alone made his heart soar. 

Dear Harry,

I’m sorry that I haven’t been keeping in contact with you over the last couple of years, but I hope I can make it up to you one day.

With this are a few letters I have found while looking through Sirius’s room, after his death. It seemed that he intended to give them to you, himself. I know I’m not as good a man as Sirius or James were, but I hope one day we can repair our relationship.

Happy Birthday, Harry.

From Moony Remus Lupin.

“You alright, Harry?” Hermione asked softly, while rubbing his arm with one hand.

“Yeah, yeah I think so.” He gave her a wry smile. “I suppose I should see what these letters are then.”

Upon opening the first letter and reading the first line, he felt an overwhelming combination of sadness and happiness overtake him. He read through the whole letter, which was a letter from Lily to Sirius, months before his parents’ deaths.

Mum…

He couldn’t help but smile at his Mum’s handwriting of the letter, ‘g,’ the similarity to his own astounding. While he had not known his parents, he loved and cherished the similarities he shared with them.

And upon spotting the attached picture of him riding the toy broomstick, with Lily and James watching over him, he collapsed straight into Hermione’s hold with light sobbing.

She soothed him, and comforted him, not moving an inch away from him.

Together they read the two other letters, and Harry had realized they had read them out of order. They were dated during the war but at an earlier date, being addressed from the Potters to Sirius, with most topics surrounding their newborn babe and the happiness they felt from Sirius taking the role of being Harry’s godfather.

He was glad that Hermione was there, because, without her, he wasn’t sure if he could have kept on reading. Afterwards, he took out the pocket watch Hermione had gifted him and ran his fingers over the engraving of the stag and doe, before setting it aside on the bedside table, close but most certainly not forgotten.

He turned his attention to Hermione and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. “Thank you for the best birthday ever, Hermione.”

With teary eyes, she replied. “I just wanted to make you as happy as you make me happy.”

With a hum, he pulled her into his arms and turned off the bedside lamp, before giving her a final kiss to her bushy mane as they settled into sleep. 

Once he heard her breathing even out and felt that her body relaxed, he thought, Now I just have to figure out how to top her birthday over mine .

He knew such an idea would be impossible, but he was prepared to take up the challenge. Hermione Granger was most definitely worth it.

Chapter Text

Art courtesy of ProphecyMarauder45. It looks absolutely brilliant, my massive thanks to her.

The week following Harry’s birthday, Harry, Hermione, and Tonks travelled to Diagon Alley to get their supplies for the upcoming school year. Tonks had told them earlier that morning that Dumbledore gave the ‘all clear’ for them to leave the Granger Residence, so long as an Order member accompanied them at all times.

They, of course, chose Tonks to accompany them, since she was not only trustworthy, but also great company. Hermione had brought up the topic of asking Lupin to come along as well, but Harry only seemed bitter by his response.

“I really do appreciate him passing on Sirius’ gift, but I would’ve thought he’d make more of an effort to meet with me over the years,” he said solemnly. 

She gave his hand a squeeze as she looked at him with understanding eyes and a sad smile. 

He ran a hand through his hair. “Everyone who’s ever cared for me has either proved to be false in that regard, or has left me…” He paused, his eyes meeting hers. With a smile, he added, “Except you, of course, Hermione.”

A crushing hug from the bushy-haired brunette then met Harry.

Hermione admitted she had similar qualms about their former defence teacher. Remus had all but disappeared after their third year, making no attempt to contact Harry. The next time they had seen him was the summer before their fifth year, and he barely said anything to them, too preoccupied with Order duties. Hermione knew that his life as a Werewolf was a hard one, but she thought that Harry deserved more contact with one of his parents’ best friends. 

Even now, Lupin seemed to be too busy to talk to them when on guard. Hermione was not sure if Remus was simply looking out for Harry or just avoiding him. Whatever his reasons, it never failed to sadden her best friend, and who could blame him? He had lost his parents and godfather, the least Lupin could do was to be there for him. Harry only had her and the Weasleys left, but she did not know how much he considered the Weasleys as family anymore. Hermione supposed she would find out when they arrived at Kings Cross Station on September 1st.

Together, Harry and Hermione side-along apparated into Diagon Alley with Tonks, and surprisingly Harry landed on his feet. 

“Guess your body prefers apparition over floo travel,” she quipped with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes, “It was one time.”

Tonks laughed at that. “Oh, don’t worry, Harry. It took me dozens of attempts before I landed on my feet. At least you got side-along apparition right the first time,” said Tonks with a grin.

Hermione linked his arm with hers and leaned into him. “Hey, sorry for teasing you,” though there was a quirk of a smile which betrayed her thoughts.

He shook his head with a smile, “Hermione, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Their heads were so close, Harry seemed to make a split-second decision, and went in for a chaste kiss.

“Awww,” said Tonks, with a look similar to Harry’s ‘puppy dog eyes’. 

Hermione wrinkled her nose in annoyance, “Must you, Tonks?”

“But you two are so cute together,” replied Tonks. “It’s like I’m watching a couple who are perfect for each other.”

The young couple rolled their eyes at her in synchronisation.  

“Maybe you should be more focused on your own love life rather than two teenagers, Nymphadora ,” commented Harry.

But Tonks seemed to miss the fact that Harry used her first name, only grimacing and sighing in response.

“Sorry,” apologised Harry, slightly panicked. “You all right, Tonks?”

The Auror gave Harry a surprised look, not thinking he would be one to ask how she was. “Yeah, just…” She shook her head. “Never mind that. We’re here to get supplies for you two. Let’s go.”

Harry wanted to question further, but Hermione gave him a critical look, saying that Tonks wanted to leave the topic alone.

“Come on, Harry. We need to make sure there’s enough time allocated for Flourish and Blotts after we do everything else,” Hermione said as she started dragging him by the hand towards Madam Malkin’s.

He chuckled. “Okay, okay.” Turning to Tonks, Harry added, “You better keep up with us Tonks, Hermione will make sure we’re done within half an hour.”

She slapped him on the arm lightly and huffed. Which only caused Tonks to burst into laughter again.

Well, at least the tension is broken , thought Hermione.

The three of them travelled to the stationery store after getting new robes fitted for the teenagers. Noticeably, Hermione found that Diagon Alley was still as packed as ever. Hermione and Harry had hoped that perhaps people would open their eyes and see through the lies of The Daily Prophet . Yet it would seem that everyone was convinced this returned ‘Dark Lord,’ which the paper had come to call him, wasn’t a threat at all. The Daily Prophet had even forgone using the name ‘He-Who-Must-Being-Named,’ believing that it would create panic among the wizarding community.

Still, she noticed that there were a few more Aurors standing guard around Diagon Alley, presumably through the initiative of Amelia Bones.

“Are more Aurors on duty than normal, Tonks?” questioned Hermione as she browsed the various quills.

“Yeah. Madam Bones seems to have more faith in Harry than Scrimgeour and Fudge, meaning she’s taking the threat of ‘You-Know-Who’ seriously.”

“His name is Voldemort , Tonks,” said Harry with a frown, causing Tonks to wince. “Too bad Madam Bones didn’t become Minister,” commented Harry quietly. “She would’ve at least prepared the country for another wizarding civil war.”

Tonks nodded her head sadly. “She’s a great witch and boss, Harry. She’ll do everything in her power to stop You-Know—”

She was cut off by the teenagers giving her pointed looks and raised eyebrows.

“Tonks, just say his name.”

“But Harry, it’s just something you don’t say out loud,” argued the young Auror.

Knowing that Harry would not let this go easily, Hermione joined in. “ Voldemort ,” she said punctually, articulating every syllable, causing Tonks to look at her like she was mad. “Look, nothing bad happened, Tonks. It’s not a thing that only Dumbledore and Harry can say.”

She looked between the two of them, trying to decide. Finally, the Auror sighed and relented. “Vo—” Tonks closed her eyes. “Voldemort.” She slowly peeked an eye open, afraid something would happen but was only met with the smiles on Harry and Hermione’s faces.

“See. Wasn’t so hard, was it? Look at it this way, you’re probably one of the few Aurors with the guts to say it,” he added with a wink.

“Hang on a minute,” began the Auror. “I’m the one supposed to be protecting you two. I should be telling you what to do, not the other way round.”

Hermione let out a very un-Hermione like giggle. “What, and you thought we—” waving her hand between herself and Harry, “—two people who broke the great Dumbledore’s orders this past summer, would do what you wanted?”

Tonks muttered something in response and shook her head, “You’re right. I should’ve known what to expect.” As they continued on into the next store, Hermione heard Tonks say under her breath, “ Kids .”

A while later, Harry–being irritated by the usual stares aimed at him–commented, “Every year it’s the bloody same.”

“The general population is only ever going to see you as their saviour,” informed Hermione sadly. “They’ve grown up with stories of how you saved them as a baby, what do you expect?”

“You’re right, of course,” he replied with a sigh. He then added quietly, so only she could hear, “But one day they’ll see me as something else.”

What does he mean by that? Hermione wondered. She had some dark ideas of what he was potentially implying, but doubted she would be right in that regard. She gave him a look, but he simply shook his head. Guess he’ll tell me in time.

As they still had substantial funds left, they went to Flourish and Blotts. Tonks, not one wanting to be ‘stuck in there forever,’ as she stated, stood outside munching on a snack. 

Hermione had much love for Muggle books, but Wizarding books were so much more interesting; even if they did often hold centuries-old values.

Instead of simply choosing books that piqued her interest, Hermione took a more practical approach. She began gathering charms, defence, and generally informative books on various topics which she thought would help Harry in his endeavour to defeat Voldemort.

“Need some help?” asked Harry, appearing behind her with a few books of his own.

“Yes, please,” she replied and dumped an additional five books on top of his own, causing him to feign distress at the extra weight.

“These are seventh year and above books,” he said absentmindedly, noticing the various titles.

“Mm, you’ve already proven yourself capable of learning more advanced charms before, so I thought we could work on more advanced spells.” She turned to him with a grin, “Besides, I need to spend all this money you gave me earlier this Summer.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to spend it all on me though,” he said with furrowed brows.

“It’s for us,” she retorted. “I’ll be learning this right beside you,” she added a bit forcefully.

Harry was taken a bit back but didn’t increase their distance. Instead, he took a step closer. “Hermione, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said, putting down the books and resting a hand on her shoulder giving it a small rub.

His touch soothed her and she breathed in before turning to him, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so aggressive, it’s just—”

“I know,” he interrupted. Harry slowly brought his mouth to her ear, “And if we were home right now, I’d be kissing you senseless.”

Hermione looked at him with something that could only describe as desire, something not missed by Harry. She could not help the feelings of both desire and happiness she felt for him. Harry thought of her home as his ‘home’ as well. It was a thought that made her heart beat infinitely faster. Everything between them was going so fast, but so comfortably at the same time.

She then shook her head and rolled her eyes dramatically before commenting, “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yes, but you love me anyway,” he replied with a lopsided grin.

She hummed in response and pretended not to hear him, going back to browsing, though she could not help but let the smile that had appeared on her face stay for the rest of their trip.

OWL results arrived the very next day and were something both teens were anticipating, one with much more enthusiasm and fear than the other.

As Hermione’s teeth chattered, Harry put a comforting arm around her.

“Hermione, you’re going to do great.” With a squeeze on her hand, he added, “Please don’t worry.”

She sighed as Helen came into the room with an amused look on her face. Addressing Harry, she asked, “Test results today, I take it?”

“Yes. And for some reason, Hermione is worried she won’t get straight O’s.”

Hermione huffed in annoyance and interrupted her mother before she could reply, “I-It’s just that...” She sighed. “I’ve always been really academic and love getting top marks. I’m just worried about how I did in the DADA exam.”

The exam itself had gone off relatively well. She had aced the theory aspect, that was for sure, and she was pretty sure her practical work was top notch. Though hearing that Harry got extra credit for showing off his Patronus charm made her wonder if she would only score an E.

Harry chuckled. “Hermione you ran the DA with me, if you didn’t get an O then we’ll be paying a visit to the examiners.”

She calmed at his words, gracing him with a small smile.

Ever since Hermione had attended school, she had always been bullied in some way or another. Whether that was because of her appearance or her love for books. As a result, she had spent much of her early life striving to be the best academically. She liked to be the seemingly ‘average’ student who was better than everyone else, and that ideal had continued on into Hogwarts.

She had studied hard for her OWL exams and knew she had more than likely got straight Outstandings in all her subjects. It was more about the principle, being the best academically at school against the ‘school bullies’ and others who thought themselves as her betters. She knew Malfoy was far from smart, but getting significantly better marks than someone who saw her as less than vermin always gave her a wave of satisfaction. Proving that they were wrong about her.

“It’s not just that, it’s the principle behind it. Showing that I, an average Muggleborn student, am better than those Pureblood bigots who brag about their blood purity.”

“Hermione. You’re far from average, never think of yourself like that, ever ,” replied Harry, leaving no doubt he meant every word.

Helen laughed lightly. “He’s right, honey. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Her mum then grinned. “Glad to know you chose a smart cookie,” Helen added with a wink.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, Hermione complained, “Mum! You’re worse than Tonks.”

Helen only began laughing harder, this time with Harry joining in, though a quick glare aimed at him shut him up.

Calming down, her mother said, “Oh, haven’t you heard? We’re always discussing all our various ideas on how to tease you two. So, don’t worry, there won’t be any end in sight.”

“One day, I’ll be getting you both back for this endless teasing.”

“And she’ll have my help,” added Harry with a smirk. One she loved to see, although for Helen it was another story.

Something seemed to shift in her mother’s demeanour, but it was gone so fast Hermione wondered if she ever saw it. Biting on her lower lip in a way that resembled herself when she was nervous, Helen replied, “Well, I guess I can tease you two a little less.” But the way she said it was laced with a cautious tone.

Harry didn’t seem to miss it either, and his eyes met hers with a concerned gaze.

Hermione supposed she should not be surprised. I can’t imagine anyone, not even my parents, seeing me the same as their innocent little girl after what happened with Dolohov. But she admittedly did not regret what she had done. She loved her parents... she really did, but Harry held a special place in her heart that no one could compare to. 

And for the most part, Helen and Robert seemed to accept that, but there were times when she and Harry teamed up and some of her parent’s worries would creep through their faces.

She wanted to say something to lighten the mood, assure her mother that they would never do anything to harm them in any way, but she had no idea how to do so. They had already talked to them and been in constant contact with them.

Perhaps there are just some wounds that can’t be fully healed, mused Hermione.

And was she all right with that? Yes. Yes, she was. It was not ideal, far from it, but she would rather her parents see her as who she was: not some young innocent girl, but a strong and powerful woman who would do anything for those she loved. Even kill, if necessary.

The three occupants of the kitchen looked at each other in silence, with Harry trying to communicate with Hermione through his eyes. Luckily for them, the tension was broken by a loud tap on the door.

On alert, the two teens moved briskly to the door, cautiously opening it to Alastor Moody. 

“Ah, there ya two are.” After a couple of seconds of looking wildly around with his glass eye, he commented, “Hmph! I suppose things seem safe enough.” Grumbling once more to himself, he passed Harry the two letters. “OWLs,” he said simply.

“Uhh—thanks?” Harry said unsurely. 

A gruff of response was all that was heard before Moody closed the door, his wooden leg hitting the stone path in the distance and signalling his departure.

Harry passed her letter to her, with a warm smile. “Don’t overthink, it’s just a letter on a piece of paper. Hardly important in the grand scheme of things.”

Her mouth opened instinctually to contradict him but decided against it. “I won’t. You’re right, there are more important things.” Her gaze clearly locked in on him.

A sigh of contentment sounded behind her, where her Mum and Dad were casually leaning on a door frame. A small squeak escaped Helen’s mouth. 

“Eh—Don’t mind us,” said Robert, nudging his wife. An encouraging smile spread over his face as he asked, “So are you going to open it, Hermione?”

Taking a short glance at Harry, she shrugged and carefully opened the letter. 

A slab of metal dropped into her hand, breaking her from her nonchalant attitude. She supposed she should have expected to be a Prefect again, but she had been so caught up with studying, helping Harry and just having fun that she completely forgot it.

Last year she was ecstatic about getting such a responsibility, but now… she could not help but care little for the title. The only thing it means is I’ll have to spend time away from Harry and do every responsibility myself as Ron sure as hell won’t. She paused, thinking through whether she really preferred to do her duties or stay with Harry. No, I won’t dedicate all my time to being a Prefect. I’ll do my duties as needed, but Ron needs to pick up his slack, because I’m not dealing with that git this year. 

Wrapping an arm around her waist and moving closer to her, Harry breathed, “Congrats again, Miss Prefect.” It only earned him an eye roll.

Unfolding the letter, she looked upon her results, a grin spreading across her face as she read every line. Harry chuckled and brought his head to her shoulder, whispering, “I’m so proud of you. Knew you’d do it.”

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Hermione Jane Granger Has Achieved:

Ancient Runes: O

Arithmancy: O

Astronomy: O

Care of Magical Creatures: O

Charms: O

Defence Against the Dark Arts: O

Herbology: O

History of Magic: O

Potions: O

Transfiguration: O

A smile of satisfaction graced over her features as she looked down at the page, I really did get a perfect score. 

“So, how did you do, Hermione?” asked Helen cautiously, mistakenly taking their close embrace and lack of words as a bad sign.

“I got Outstanding in everything,” she said breathlessly, looking up at her parents excitedly.

“Oh! Congratulations, honey.” And her two parents went in to hug her, with Harry stepping back and watching with a smile.

Making her way back to Harry, she watched him closely. He ripped open the letter in a much less elegant manner than her and pulled out a badge with a frown.

“Quidditch Captain,” he noted with surprise.

Hermione inwardly winced at that. But quickly berated herself for doing so, Harry loves to fly and play Quidditch, I shouldn’t be mad at him for getting something he’s probably wanted for years.

“I’ll have to write a letter to McGonagall,” said Harry, breaking Hermione from her thoughts.

After seeing her quizzical look, he added, “I’ll be too busy studying and training to play Quidditch. Besides, I just enjoy flying, dodging bludgers for hours on end in the rain isn’t the most enjoyable activity.” He paused, and suddenly a grin broke out on his face.

“Why are you grinning like a fool?” she asked.

“Yes, I’d like to know too,” said Robert. “I don’t see how skipping out on such a thrilling sport could be good.”

Harry laughed lightly. “It’s not about Quidditch,” he explained, earning him raised eyebrows. “I just came up with a wonderful idea for Hermione’s birthday.”

An idea for my birthday? Repeated Hermione to herself. Over the years at Hogwarts, her birthday had been a small affair between her, Harry and Ron, yet this year Harry was planning to do something big for her. Considering the current conversation when he got the idea, I assume it’ll have something to do with flying .

“Does this idea involve flying, by any chance?” She asked innocently.

His mouth opened in surprise. After overcoming his shock, he clicked his tongue and complained, “You’re not supposed to read me like a book, it’s no fun that way.”

With her suspicions being correct, she smiled triumphantly at him. Considering that Harry was a great flyer, if not the best in school, she supposed she would enjoy whatever experience he had in store. Flying never had been a particularly interesting activity for the bushy-haired witch. She was only initially worried over flying because she had no idea what to do. There were simply some things that could not be learnt from a book.

Having spent hours flying from Scotland to London in fifth year, it was evident that she did not have acrophobia. But even so, she had more control over herself on the ground, so she barely ever went flying. But these days, anything done with Harry was extremely enjoyable. And she imagined whatever idea he had in store would be romantic.

Looking over his shoulder, Hermione read his results.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Harry James Potter Has Achieved:

Astronomy: A

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Charms: E

Defence Against the Dark Arts:  O

Divination: P

Herbology: E

History of Magic: D

Potions: E

Transfiguration: E

Harry visibly blinked a few times at the page, clearly surprised by the results. “Huh,” he murmured aloud while still looking at the page.

She gave him a peck on the cheek, breaking him from his trance. With a smirk, she said, “Now imagine what you would have gotten if you hadn’t put off studying.”

It caused the desired result, making a smile break through his face. “While I could definitely make improvements in my marks, I could never compete with you.”

“Not with that attitude, mister,” she countered.

After congratulating the teenagers once more, Helen and Robert departed for work, leaving the duo alone.

As the door closed Harry sighed and muttered, “Damn.”

Leading him to a couch, she sat down, curled against him. “What’s the matter?”

“I just realised I wouldn’t be able to learn my NEWT level Potions this year. I needed an O, but I only got an E.” He chuckled, “Oh, well. At least I won’t have to deal with Snape this year.”

Professor Snape was on the tip of her tongue, but she reigned in that side of her that automatically respected authority figures when they deserved none. “Who knows, maybe Snape will get his wish this year and become our DADA teacher.”

“Oh god, I hope not. That’ll be ten times worse than potions.”

She grimaced at the thought, “If that happens we might end up learning less than we did with Umbitch.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Umbitch?”

She flustered slightly in embarrassment, but feigned innocence, “Oh my, did I say that aloud?”

“Did I ever mention how much I love you?” asked Harry in awe.

“Mm, perhaps another reminder wouldn’t hurt.”

He chuckled in response as his lips brushed against hers.

The last couple weeks of Summer went by faster than any Hermione had experienced. Normally her holidays went by at a snail’s pace; using every moment she had to study, read, and entertain herself as the days slowly ticked by.

But now it was different, and she knew that her best friend, boyfriend, the person she cared most about most in the world was the cause of it. Scarcely did a moment go by where she was not entertained by him, whether or not he intentionally was doing so.

She had come to love so many things about him. Whether it was the way his eyes crinkled as he smiled at her; the intense feeling she felt when he gazed at her with those intense green eyes; the happiness she felt at watching him sleep peacefully; or the feelings of elation and sense of rightness as they lost themselves in each other 

Even if they were currently living through a time of fear, danger, and prejudice, Hermione could not help but feel happy and fulfilled.

Still, she knew that they could never truly be happy until the threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters were purged from society. 

Unfortunately, they had come no closer to finding out who might have aided Dolohov in his attack on the Grangers. It was simply impossible that Dolohov could have found them without help, let alone know how to talk his way into the living room before committing his final sins.

Harry had jumped to the conclusion that Snape would be the likely culprit. She was inclined to agree with Harry, especially since his point was not without its fair share of evidence. Even if Snape had helped them a few times during the years, he had only ever treated Harry, her and Ron with disdain. Ever since the return of Voldemort, Snape had not directly helped them in any way. He had supposedly warned the Order of their attempt to travel to the Ministry, but they took hours to travel there, leading them to believe that Snape severely delayed in sending the message. Perhaps even warning the Death Eaters ahead of the time that they were coming.

If this was the case, they would have to hope that no one else knew of Dolohov other than Snape and that he really was playing ‘their’ side. Though, if given the chance, Hermione was prepared to kill her Potions Master. She never knew the full extent of Occlumency training before Harry brought up the topic with her. The anger she felt towards Snape after learning he had practically ‘mind raped’ Harry was immeasurable; it had taken Harry hours to calm her down enough so she would not go and kill the ‘former’ Death Eater herself.

In fact, she would kill anyone who was a threat to Harry; and she meant anyone . 

Hermione was done dealing with people’s shit and knowing that they were entering sixth year, it was likely that Harry would get more attention from girls this year than ever before. She knew Harry would never betray her, but was wary of what intricate ways his ‘fangirls’ may attempt to ‘steal’ him. 

If they think insulting me, saying how plain I am, or how much better they were than me is going to work, they have another thing coming. She snorted at the thought. The other night when they had gone to the cinemas, a random man had accidentally knocked into her shoulder. Next thing she knew, Harry was glaring at the stranger with a deadly gaze and had wrapped his arm around her possessively. If looks could kill, the man would have been dead ten times over.

In fact, this was just one occasion of him being overprotective, possessive even. She was never upset about what he did, she even felt smug in a way that Harry did it for her .

She supposed that maybe she should have felt angry at Harry’s possessiveness of her, but she would be a hypocrite to feel such a thing. She had lost count of the amount of times she’d had to glare, clench her teeth, or pull Harry closer whenever someone had given him a second look. 

She was his, and he was hers. 

And Hermione would make sure it would stay that way, no matter the ethical morality of her methods. 

Hermione was not prepared to kill anyone over petty jealousy, but if circumstances deemed so, the person in question may end up on the wrong end of her curses. Ginny and Luna, she could tolerate to a degree, as they were her friends. But if either made a move, they may find themselves in a less than pleasant situation. 

Though she doubted Luna would be a problem, having seen the glances Hermione saw her sneak at Neville. She smiled to herself, Maybe they’d be a nice—

She startled slightly when Harry pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“Sorry,” he muttered with an apologetic smile.

She blinked, awareness of her surroundings coming back to her. They were still in bed in the early hours of the morning. She didnot realise that Harry had rolled over and was staring at her. He had probably been doing for minutes, but she had been too lost in her thoughts to notice.

“It’s okay,” she replied sleepily. “Just a bit distracted.”

“I realised that. What were you thinking about?” Asked Harry with a sheepish grin, his crinkled eyes being more prevalent without his glasses.

Moving his fringe back, she replied, “Mostly just about school.”

He snuggled closer, intrigued, “What, exactly?”

“Mmm, just thinking of all the ways to bat off your fangirls.”

“Scared of the competition?” He questioned with a smirk.

She snorted. “As if they could possibly compare to me.”

Harry’s eyes darkened slightly, but his gaze stayed firmly on her face as he raised an eyebrow in challenge. 

Hermione smiled at him slyly, accepting his challenge. She slowly leaned forward and brought her lips to his. Not one to waste the moment, Hermione rolled on top of him without breaking their kiss. Harry responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her and enthusiastically met her lips with his own. 

She touched his lips with her tongue, seeking entrance, which the young wizard was only eager to give. No matter how many times they have done this, the feel of his tongue dancing with hers had always heightened her need for the boy underneath her.

Harry instinctively tightened one arm around her, while his other hand moved up her back and rested at the nape of her neck, lost in the tangle of her hair. It was one of the wonders in kissing Harry, he was never an idle participant. He would give as good as he got.

She was so lost in the sensations that Harry’s mouth on hers gave her that she lost track of time. She wanted to stay where she was for as long as she could.

When they broke apart, Hermione asked breathlessly, “So? Still think I have competition?”

Harry almost stopped breathing as he stared at her. He said his next words with such utter conviction that her heart melted. “There never was anyone who could compare to Hermione Jane Granger in the first place.”

She knew he felt this way, but to hear him say it never failed to make her feel stronger, happier, and fulfilled. 

“Good, because otherwise, I’d have to remove all other adversaries by any means necessary.” 

He smirked, and that was another thing she loved about him so much. These comments never made Harry feel uncomfortable or frightened, if anything he seemed to love everything dark about her and only wanted her more.

It was so nice to simply speak the truth, say what she meant, without having to fear the judgemental stares of society.

“If I’m still sane, I’ll be sure to help you in any capacity possible. Just so you know that if anyone tries anything with you, they’ll face the same–if not worse–consequences.”

She smiled at him. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Harry then rolled on his back, covered his eyes with his arm, and said with a sigh, “So the school term starts tomorrow.”

Giving him a sympathetic look, she said, “Not excited?”

Removing his arm and turning to look at her, he replied, “It’s not that I’m not excited, I’m looking forward to seeing our friends again. It’s just…” He paused. “We’ll have to deal with so many problems when we get there. Mainly Draco and the general student population, considering what happened earlier this year. And if Dumbledore’s threat was anything to go by, he’ll be trying to make sure that I only do exactly what he wants.”

“We won’t capitulate to his or anyone else’s demands. We control our lives, not people who have no relation to us whatsoever.”

“I know that. You know that. But I doubt Dumbledore, Voldemort, or other adults will see it that way. Dumbledore has set me up to defeat Voldemort by any means since birth, and I’m sure he has some fail-safes in place to ensure that happens. And I will defeat Tom one day, only I won’t be restricted to the methods Dumbledore would deem as appropriate.

“However, I’ll be at least slightly cooperative with whatever he wants me to do this year, so long as it’s nothing outlandish. If he wants to actually teach me ways to become a stronger and better wizard, I’ll be all for it, and it’ll act as a way for him to assure himself nothing is amiss. If Dumbledore knew about Dolohov, there surely would’ve been some communication to either of us about it. And if Snape is responsible, I doubt he would want to share the fact he helped plot your murder.”

He cupped her hand with both of his. “So, do you think I could follow through with such a plan?”

She frowned. “Harry, I shouldn’t tell you what you should do, either; it’s your life.”

He shook his head, “It’s not like that. You always have my best interests at heart, you see things from another perspective, one with less bias than anyone else I know. Which is one of the reasons why I’m asking for your opinion in this instance. That, and I trust you more than anyone else in the world.”

His words made her smile, so she sighed and gave it some thought. It's a good idea in theory. Make his small discrepancy this summer simply look like a teenager’s rebellious fit, potentially get some training from the best wizard in Britain. And probably some insight into how deep Dumbledore’s manipulations run. I see little downsides to this plan, other than having to spend time around a master manipulator. So long as Harry will be delivering penance to the old man one day.

Looking back to Harry, she replied, “I think it’s a good idea in theory. Just as long as you remember who you’re dealing with.”

“That won’t be a problem,” he replied simply.

“And why’s that?”

He smirked, “Cause anything he wants me to do, you’ll be right there by my side, no exceptions . If he can’t accommodate that, we will find other ways to deal with threats. His Order’s protection is nothing compared to my friends and—” He paused, his mouth wide open before he slowly closed it. After what seemed like an eternity, his gaze hardened as he looked deep into her eyes. “ My best friend, my Hermione .”

Hearing the words, Hermione felt her heart grow warm.  Harry had always been her best friend, someone she would do absolutely anything for. But now she knew that he would also do the exact same for her.

No words or grand gestures were needed to convey her response to him. She communicated everything through her eyes, hiding nothing from him, only showing him the truth: Nothing he had said to her had scared her in the slightest, and nothing probably would. 

His eyes responded in a similar manner, shining a bright shade of green, more beautiful than anything she had remembered. A smirk grew on his face, one so insidious, she felt shivers run down her spine. She wondered if anyone else would be able to hold the gaze and not feel fear. But to her, it said something entirely different: it communicated him getting exactly what he wanted, and it made her happy in a way. She imagined he was feeling the things she did when she walked around with him, killed Dolohov or even punched Malfoy.

She licked her lips languidly, watching his eyes follow her every movement, causing him to let out a groan of annoyance.

Flashing him a triumphant grin, she pulled him closer, burying her face into the crook of his neck. 

In a voice so quiet and raspy she later wondered if it was her own, she whispered into his ear, “Anything—for my Harry .”

She revelled in the small shiver that went down his spine before his grip tightened on her.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered back after an eternal second of suspense.

She smiled into his skin, loving the tingles and feelings she was experiencing from every skin to skin contact they shared. “As are you,” she said with every fibre of her being. “Now let’s sleep in for a while. It’s our second last night together.”

She had some ideas of how they could get their arrangement to work throughout the school year, but right now she was focused on enjoying the present with him.

His melancholy was clear to her but instead of complaining about it, he kissed her softly on the cheek before replying in a bright voice, “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Before long they had arrived at Kings Cross Station and were passing through Platform 9 & ¾. 

While Harry had his qualms about Hogwarts, he was at least glad that he would see his friends again. Mainly Neville, Luna, Ginny and Ron, although he would have a talk with the latter tonight regarding his attitude towards Hermione, though he doubted it was going to end well. 

He hoped their insults at one another would not start as soon as his two best friends saw each other. But was adamant that if such a thing was happening, he would take the right side. 

As he had arrived with Hermione and her family, they were some of the first students on the platform, meaning it was largely deserted save a few families here and there.

After shaking the hand of Robert and receiving a surprising hug from Helen, Harry bid the Granger parents goodbye.

“Stay safe, you two,” said Helen after hugging her daughter. 

“We will, Mum,” and even Harry had to admit the blatant lie sounded truthful. It was a disconcerting thought that they could lie so easily and succeed in the process. Especially since both of them had been terrible liars in the past.

The likelihood of them avoiding danger and staying safe was next to none, especially considering they had discussed the idea of leaving Hogwarts every now and then. For what purposes, had not been fully finalised. Although they did have some ideas.

“Wanna get a compartment now or wait here for our friends?” Asked Harry.

Hermione shrugged. “We may as well get a compartment for ourselves before too many other students arrive.” She rolled her eyes, “Besides we’ll be waiting for least an hour before Ron and Ginny arrive. They always get here at the last minute.”

“Good point.”

They purposefully chose a compartment near the end of the Hogwarts Express to avoid any unnecessary visitors and quickly settled in closing the curtains. Hermione grabbed out one of the advanced textbooks she had bought the other day and began reading it while snuggling up to Harry.

Chuckling, he attempted to read over her shoulder. But it was a half-hearted attempt as he knew he could not keep up with her insane reading speed. Knowing that it would be impossible to talk to their friends in their current position he cherished every moment of her body against his.

He admitted that perhaps he was getting slightly obsessed over being near her, hearing her voice, touching her, making her smile. In a couple of months, he had found that his favourite pastime was not playing chess, flying, or goofing around with Ron, but simply making Hermione happy. 

And right now, going by her smile and the way she nuzzled his arm, he was succeeding. 

To be honest, Harry didn’t really care about what people thought if they saw Hermione and him in this position. She felt like home and he did not want to be away from her. Though he supposed Ron would freak out upon seeing them. Always got to think about other bloody people.

“Harry, Hermione, you guys in there?” Asked a voice sounding just like his best friend.

“Yeah,” he responded while untangling himself from Hermione with a sad smile, before unlocking their compartment. Outside was Ron looking slightly worn out.

“Blimey, why did you have to choose this compartment? I was looking all over the platform.”

Right, we probably should’ve made it easier for others to find us… Not that I wasn’t enjoying the peace and quiet of just me and Hermione. Forcing a small grin over his face and patting Ron on the back, he replied, “Sorry about that, Hermione likes to read in silence, you know. So we set up a silencing charm.”

The redhead let out a small chuckle.  “That must’ve been loads of fun,” he said sarcastically.

Fighting the urge to frown, he remembered that this was Ron. Letting a grin rise on his features, he shrugged. “It was,” he replied seriously. 

Ron gave him a weird look.

As Harry retook his seat next to Hermione, she looked up briefly from her book, “Hello, Ron.”

“Hey,” he replied slightly bitterly.

Ron seemed to stand in the doorway slightly confused, looking at where Harry sat. 

Realisation came to the raven-haired boy at that moment. Oh, I’m sitting next to Hermione instead of him. But like hell am I moving from here. He internally winced after realising what he had just thought.

Awkwardly, Ron sat opposite him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Hermione’s eyes were not focused on the page in front of her. 

“Urm, so how were your holidays, Ron?” said Harry, trying to break the silence.

Ron shook his head before grinning, “It was brilliant. Most of the family was around, meaning lots of Quidditch practice. Also, did you hear about Bill?”

Shaking his head in response, Ron continued with a smirk growing on his face, “He’s got himself a fiancee: Fleur Delacour. You know, the French Champion from the Tournament.”

Harry noticed that Hermione was now fully paying attention to the conversation. He raised an eyebrow at Ron, “Fleur Delacour?” After Ron’s enthusiastic nod of response, Harry continued, “I didn’t know she was living in Britain.” 

“Yeah, working at Gringotts apparently. Mum’s furious about it, she thinks Fleur is using her Veela charm to seduce Bill.” It seemed like every mention of Fleur made Ron smile. 

“Well, her charm certainly seems to work on someone,” mumbled Hermione from behind her book, to which Harry failed to hold in a laugh.

“Oi! It’s not my fault!” he complained, to which Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes. Ron had practically been smitten with the French witch at first sight. The kiss on the cheek after the second task had only made things worse.

“Anyway, it really sucks that you weren’t able to come over this summer, Harry.” Chuckling to himself Ron added, “Hope Hermione didn’t make you do all your homework.”

Clenching his jaw unnoticeably, he responded calmly, “I actually chose to do it myself, with Hermione’s help, of course.”

The word “What,” seemed to escape Ron’s mouth as he looked at him disbelieving. “Why in Merlin’s name would you torture yourself with studying over the holidays? Summer is supposed to be fun.”

“We know Voldemort is back,” he began, causing Ron to wince at the name, “So yes, I chose to get ahead, since there’s a literal mass-murdering-dark-wizard which is hell-bent on killing me out and about right now. I’ll take every advantage I can, even if it’s at the expense of some fun.”

His best friend seemed to take in his words and gulped, but stayed silent.

“Ron, we’re at war now. You can’t keep continuing on like there’s nothing wrong in the world, because there is. Did you think Harry could just cast some spell at Voldemort then it’s over?” questioned Hermione.

“No! Of course not.”

“Well, then stop looking at him like he’s crazy. He’s been through more than any of us, leave him be.”

Ron suddenly narrowed his eyes at her. “You put him up to this.”

“Put him up to what?” replied Hermione in a raised voice.

Ron gestured wildly with his hands. “This—making Harry all serious and solemn.”

Before things could escalate, Harry interrupted, “Stop, both of you. Hermione didn’t make me do anything, Ron. And for your information, I had lots of fun at the Grangers. Now, will you leave it alone?”

This took his best friend by surprise, who flinched in response before trailing off with, “Yeah…”

After an awkward thirty seconds of silence, Hermione with a huff stood up and made for the door, turning back she turned to look straight at Harry and said softly, “I’ll be back soon, Harry.”

“Where are you going?” Ron asked.

Hermione let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. “Well, Ron. If you’re still a Prefect, you’ll know we need to head to the Prefect compartment to meet the Head Boy and Girl like Prefects do every year.”

“Blimey, no need to attack me, woman.” 

Harry tried to fight off the building anger he felt towards his best friend, but his anger won over and a retort was on the tip of his tongue.

Hermione merely sighed before he could talk and walked off.

“What’s her problem?” questioned Ron, his anger clearly getting the better of him.

Her problem, she doesn’t have a problem, thought Harry bitterly.

Okay... he supposed after a moment of thought, maybe Hermione was acting a bit rude towards Ron, but that was hardly anything new. Besides, Ron seemed to only reciprocate the attitude right back at her without even attempting to be diplomatic. No, that role always fell to Harry, and at the moment he didn’t feel like being caught in the middle.

“I don’t know,” he lied. “Though you better catch up before she hexes you for being late.”

Ron grumbled as he stood up, “You’re probably right.”

As Ron left the compartment, Harry seriously wondered how on earth someone like Ron became a Prefect. Out of all the Gryffindor sixth years, Ron was probably the most immature and most irresponsible of all the boys. 

Harry didn’t think Ron was a boring person to be around, but he did not think his best friend was the correct choice after him. Really, someone like Neville should’ve been made Prefect. It would’ve been nice to be Prefect, but considering my record, Neville would’ve been a far better choice. Still, anyone was better than Ron . When Harry thought of a role model student, he thought of Hermione, not Ron, so thinking back on him being a Prefect utterly baffled him. Then again, both Draco and Pansy made Prefects, when there must have better candidates in Slytherin. Not that he knew anyone else in Slytherin.

The Headmaster interfered with the Prefect choice for me, what’s the likelihood that he gave the all-clear for Draco and Pansy as well? Just how much power does he hold?

He put those thoughts away for another time. 

Sighing, he picked up Hermione’s book and made sure to bookmark her page, before reading whatever intrigued him.

This particular book was on advanced offensive spells and also acted as one of the handbooks for hit wizards. The fact that it was available at Flourish and Blotts raised some questions, but the bookstore owner did not seem to notice this particular book in Hermione’s pile. And considering how much she spent, Harry doubted the owner really cared what sort of books a sixth-year student was reading.

Sometimes he had to do a double-take on some spells. He had reached a section of spells which were under the title called Banned Curses of Warfare . Apparently, in the late 19th century, the international wizarding community had discussed the inhumanity of some curses and banned them. This was separate to the three Unforgivables, but after reading the effects some spells had, he understood why they were forbidden. 

Each of these banned curses was given a small summary which included its appearance and effects on the victim. Harry didn’t consider himself a squeamish person, but some effects implied some of the most painful deaths imaginable. Thankfully —or unfortunately, thought Harry momentarily—only the counter curse incantation was listed. Although noticeably about half the spells had no known counter curse.

Well, guess it’s a good thing the knowledge of such incantations is extremely limited. I wouldn’t wish these spells on anyone… well, maybe not anyone. 

Reading the book raised another thought: Why did the Hit Wizards have such a little part in the last war? They are supposed to act as an elite anti-dark wizard unit, yet he had hardly found any evidence of them interfering in the internal war of Death Eaters versus the Ministry. Surely there must have been some reason, as throughout history, the military had taken on huge roles in internal wars. If the Ministry managed to gain the support of the Hit Wizards, combining that with the Aurors, and the rest of the DMLE would mean Voldemort and his Death Eaters would stand little chance. Then again, there was almost undoubtedly going to be some pureblood sympathisers inside this group, so perhaps that is why they had stayed mostly out of the fight. With his mind exhausted of possible reasons, he made a mental note to look further into this later.

Just as he was about to turn the page, he heard someone stomping loudly up to his compartment. Instinctually his hand grasped around his wand, but upon realising that there were two people arguing and that they were two very familiar voices, his grip loosened but he braced himself for the coming confrontation.

As the door slid open, Hermione furiously made her way in, teeth clenched and her eyes blazing. 

Harry’s reaction to Hermione’s state was to glare at the doorway for the obvious culprit, even if this culprit was his best friend. 

Though he had to admit Hermione looked absolutely stunning. But he mentally shook his head, Now is not the time for those thoughts. These next few minutes could determine a lot.

Ron came in a second later, red-faced and bursting in outrage.

“I cannot believe you, Ronald Weasley!” Hissed Hermione. If it was not for the fact that Ron heard what she said, Harry would have wondered if Hermione spoke Parseltongue. 

“Me?! What about you, obviously confounding him into not leaving! What did you do?!”

Standing up and moving between them, Harry seethed. “ What the fuck is going on here?! ” Instinctually, he had positioned himself slightly towards Hermione and had most of his gaze directed at Ron. Not that the redhead noticed.

“This blithering idiot!” Shouted Hermione pointing at Ron. “Thinks I somehow, I don’t know, confounded you, or even seduced you, into staying at my house rather than going to the Burrow for the summer.” Directing a glare back at Ron she added, “How many times does Harry have to tell you that it was his choice?”

Ron snorted, crossed armed. “I did not say seduce.” 

Hermione scoffed and retorted, “That’s what you implied.”

The redhead mumbled, “Not like you bloody could, anyway, as plain as you are.” With that last statement, something inside Harry snapped. That was the last straw.

“Ron, stop ,” demanded Harry coldly. “Hermione’s right, I chose to stay. She played no direct part in my choice of staying.”

Ron threw his hands up in anger. “Why the bloody hell are you taking her side?!”

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking at him dumbly, “Why shouldn’t I? She’s also my best friend and I agree with her completely. I know the facts and I know you’re just acting like a jealous git for no bloody reason! Just like fourth year!”

“What?” Ron was outraged. “A jealous git?”

“Do you want to know the truth of what I think, Ron? Well, here it goes. Your unreasonable anger right there is a prime example. You threw any sense of logic out the window when interrogating Hermione. And you’re acting like a spoilt fucking brat who didn’t get what he wanted. Do you really think Hermione, of all people, would do anything to manipulate me like that? Or anyone else, for that matter?” Harry knew the latter was a lie, but he wasn’t going to share Hermione’s growing darkness with Ron at this point in time.

After a moment of hesitation, Ron mumbled, “No.”

But then Ron suddenly burst, his anger getting the better of him… again. “Why should I listen to you, Harry?! You have everything, now you’re telling me how to act! Just because your name is cleared and you’re suddenly the Chosen One, doesn’t mean you can do whatever the hell you want.”

Hermione was about to argue in his defence, but Harry put a hand on her shoulder, conveying that he would handle it. Glaring at Ron he began, “ I have everything do I, Ron? Do you know what it feels like to grow up without parents? What it feels like to be used as a tool, to get up every day and do shit for someone else, getting nothing in return?”

At Ron’s silence, he continued, “Sure, I have money and friends but I also have the biggest responsibility in all of Britain. I didn’t want it, but did I get a choice? No. Do you know what kind of burden that is? No, of course you don’t. You grew up in the wizarding world, free of horrendous living conditions and with people who loved you unconditionally. I didn’t get any of that. Now, I’m not saying my life was the worst out there because other people have come from much worse backgrounds. But for you to say that I have everything is the most idiotic thing I have heard from you yet. If you would just pull your head out of your arse, just for one second, you would realise how fucking lucky you are with what you have. I’ve always taken your side in the past, and you know what? I regret it. Especially when you act like a fucking cunt.”

His best friend (though Harry was wondering if that friendship had been irreparably damaged) stood there in silence, taking in his words. Ron’s anger clearly had not subsided, but neither did he try to argue his own opinion back. Instead, he then walked to the door cautiously and muttered with distaste, “I’m going for a walk.”

“I’m going to murder him,” spat Hermione a few seconds later.

“I might beat you to that.” But he wasn’t entirely serious. Quirking a brow, he added, “Put him in a vat of acid, feed him to Fluffy? Oh no, what about leaving him in the Forbidden Forest with the acromantulas?”

That got a smile out of Hermione. “That does sound like a nice idea,” she replied, in a tone which showed she knew they were only joking.  

Harry walked up behind her and put his arms around her. Heaving a resigned sigh he said, “If he reacted to me not coming over like that, imagine the trouble we’ll have upon telling him we’re a couple.”

She turned her head to look at him curiously. “You’re not going to let him get between us, are you?”

“What? No!” He exclaimed, suddenly worried he had done something wrong. “If he’s not all right with it, he can go fuck himself. It’s your choice just as much as it’s mine, and if he can’t understand that, he doesn’t deserve to be treated as a friend.”

Hermione relaxed at his words and proceeded to peck him on the lips. Harry couldn’t help but feel like she had rewarded him in some way, which in all possibilities could be true, considering that he had always put her after Ron.

Five minutes later Ron returned and simply slumped into the corner, ignoring both of their gazes.

Harry waited a few moments, seeing if his supposed best friend would apologise for his unjust actions. But he seemed dead-set on ignoring them. Of course, he’s not going to even bother apologising. He’s never done it before, why would he do it now?

At that moment there was a knock on the compartment door.

“Hmm? Who is it?” he asked.

“Umm, Neville, Luna and Ginny,” replied an unsure Neville.

A smile gracing across his features, he waved his wand and the door slid open. 

Hermione made a disapproving noise, “Was that necessary?”

“No,” he replied with a grin. “But I haven’t had the chance to use magic in months, so I’m getting it out of my system.” Harry then realised that he had just opened the door to three of his friends. “Oh, sorry. Hey Neville, Luna and Ginny.”

“Mind if we come in?” asked Neville looking oddly at Ron who was looking down in the corner.

He looked briefly at Hermione, who gave a small smile and replied, “Yeah, of course. You’re our friends.”

As they all sat down, Ginny asked, “What’s the problem with my brother?”

“We got into an argument, and no we don’t really want to discuss it,” said Harry tentatively.

The three newcomers seemed to accept that and did not follow up on it. A trace of a smile spread through Ron’s downcast expression. “Anyway, how’s things, Neville?” asked Ron, his mood improving.

Neville shrugged as he replied, “Alright, I guess. Gran was nicer in the summer, especially once she saw my OWL results. Can you believe I got an O in Herbology?”

“Yes,” replied everyone in unison.

The Longbottom boy looked at them all in confusion, “What, why would you all think that?”

“Please, Neville. You’re even better than me at Herbology,” said Hermione.

“Yeah and she’s not one to admit when someone is better than her often,” added Harry, only to receive a playful punch on the arm from Hermione. 

Ginny’s eyes seemed to grow wide at their small playful display before deflating slightly. Though moments later her composure straightened, and her gaze locked onto Harry. “So Harry, do you know who the new Quidditch Captain is? I hope they won’t be as strict as Wood,” asked Ginny.

He knew he had to put this carefully, so to not cause another argument to begin. “Yeah, Katie is the new captain.”

“How do you know that?”

“I would’ve thought you’d become captain Harry,” said Luna in her dreamy voice.

“Uh, well…” How was he going to put this without pissing everyone off? “I was made captain—”

“‘course you were…” muttered Ron, resulting in Ginny pinching him.

“ But I decided to hand it back, as I want to be more focused on my studies and my training to fight against Voldemort,” he continued, ignoring Ron.

Ginny seemed devastated by the news. “So you’re not even going to be playing Seeker?”

He shook his head. “No, besides,” he began with an unsure smile. “I still have that lifetime ban active, I’m sure I could get it removed, but I have more important things to do than losing hours every day to Quidditch.”

It was clear neither Ron nor Ginny agreed with his choice, but they didn’t voice their objection.

“That’s a mature thing to do,” said Luna, surprising everyone. “Though I’ll miss watching you flying towards the snitch.”

“I certainly won’t,” said Hermione in the background, which caused everyone in the compartment to fall into laughter, with her joining in soon after.

Slowly, the group fell into easy conversation with one another. But it was not long before the tension returned.

“We better go do those patrols, Hermione,” said Ron slowly.

Surprise flashed in Hermione’s eyes, probably wondering why Ron decided to do something mature, or if it was just another ploy to begin ranting at Hermione again. “You do that, Ron. You can do the first half, and I’ll do it with Harry once you get back.”

“What? You can’t do that. He’s not a Prefect and we’re meant to do this together.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Not like that’s ever stopped you from making me do it alone before. And there’s no rule saying I can’t do patrols with a non-prefect. You can check, though I doubt you’ve even looked at the Prefect manual.”

“Hermione,” warned Harry quietly.

However, his friend seemed to only take it in stride, laughing at her comment. “You’re probably right. So who wants to go with me then?”

Ron looked at Harry, but he simply shrugged. “Sorry, mate. But I’m going with Hermione.”

He looked around the compartment until finally Ginny rolled her eyes and conceded, “Fine, I’ll go. Though I’m only helping until I get back to my other friends.”

“Great,” muttered Ron as the two left.

“Things aren’t great?” asked Neville.

“With Ron? Eh, it’ll probably be fine. Though I’m not going to be a pushover with his attitude this year,” explained Harry.

“I mean he’s always been a bit like that, Harry… I haven’t wanted to say anything but—” began Neville, but Harry held up a hand interrupting him.

“Yeah, I get it. I guess I’ve always been blind to my first friend. But from now on, he doesn’t get any special treatment. Hopefully, he’ll understand that’s all it is.”

“Good luck with that, Harry,” said Luna. “Ron’s had some wrackspurts around his head, but they usually go away after a while.”

Neville was smiling at Luna before he eventually realised what he was doing and quickly looked away. Turning to Harry and Hermione he asked, “So, how were your holidays?”

“Great,” he replied cheerfully. “Hermione and her family made it spectacular, don’t think I ever learnt and had as much fun before.”

“Got up to anything interesting?” Questioned Neville, surprised but happy at his response.

“We got up to some very interesting things…” he replied cryptically. Yeah, like killing a Death Eater in the living room of my girlfriend’s house. Oh yeah, did I mention I was sharing a room with Hermione every night? Yeah, he certainly was not going to share those bits of information.

Neville made a motion for him to go on. Luckily for him, Hermione spoke. “We visited the Muggle Cinema a few times and watched some movies. Have either of you ever gone to the cinemas?”

Luna and Neville looked at each other. “What’s a cinema?” Inquired Neville, embarrassed.

So Harry and Hermione went on to explain the cinemas, movies, and other Muggle technology. From there they described other parts of their holiday and listened to Luna’s adventure overseas.

All in all, Harry found the day to be very enjoyable. Being here with his friends, discussing innocent things gave him a sense of calm that he hadn’t felt for years.

Yes, maybe going back to school wasn’t that bad after all.

Chapter Text

The Sorting Ceremony brought some unexpected surprises. The biggest of which was the introduction of Horace Slughorn—a fat, balding man who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but at Hogwarts—as the new Potions Professor. Soon afterwards, Dumbledore announced that Snape was appointed as the new Defence Professor. 

Cheers followed by groans were heard throughout the hall, and Harry didn’t know if he should consider this a good thing or not.

They had known that Dumbledore was intending to hire a professor into his service, and the two had assumed that they would have a new Defence Teacher, but it seemed Hermione’s prediction of Snape possibly becoming Defence Teacher came true after all.

She cheered him up by mentioning that, ‘Defence teachers never last past the year. So if history repeats itself, we won’t have to deal with Snape for our seventh year.’

Yes, that certainly sounded like a bonus. Although, Harry had often wondered if he would even attend his last year. The Second Blood War had barely escalated since the Department of Mysteries which meant it was more than likely that something big would happen towards the end of this year. 

Another thing he noted was the weariness of the old man. When Dumbledore showed up at the Grangers, he had not seemed his normal self, which Harry attributed to the fact that his plan to keep him alone until he could be ‘rescued’ was foiled. But now another thought arose in his mind as he observed the headmaster closely. 

He’s awfully careful in the way he says every word and the way he moved his right hand… It’s almost as if he’s trying to keep something hidden from the student body…

Harry had to give credit that at least the Headmaster warned everyone about the true threat of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He accidentally chuckled aloud when Dumbledore said ‘Voldemort,’ causing everyone to flinch, which indirectly saved anyone from hearing him.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, her face was completely blank, with only the merest sliver of amusement breaking through her expression.

Why did I find that funny? He wondered after Hermione turned her attention away. What’s particularly humourous about Dumbledore saying Voldemort in front of the whole school? Maybe he was going mad. He could not even understand his instinctual actions before or after it happened.

Once the feast began, the tense mood of the evening announcements faded into the usual loud chatter that always filled the Great Hall. 

However, that wasn’t the case for the five Gryffindors who had travelled to the Ministry the last school year. The tenseness had left none of their bodies and they looked at each other aimlessly.

Eventually Ginny broke the silence as she looked at him with fearful eyes. “Is You-Know-Who really going to start another war?”

Holding in a sigh, he replied with some bitterness, “Yes, isn’t that obvious?” The snap caused Ginny to shy back in response. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, attempting to calm himself, before lowering his voice slightly and adding, “There are already some disappearances being reported in the Daily Prophet. If anything, the new war has begun and it won’t be long until Voldemort does something.”

As the group flinched in response, Harry internally thought, It’s just a bloody name. No wonder Tom was so close to winning the last war.

Ginny’s unease hadn’t disappeared, and as Luna silently came to join them, she eventually probed further. “So when are we having our first DA meeting?”

He and Hermione had given a lot of thought to this over the past weeks. There were benefits to both sides, but ultimately they had made their decision and had agreed it was the best decision for them . Perhaps not for everyone, but Harry wanted the best for Hermione and himself. He wasn’t responsible for everyone in the school.

“We aren’t,” he replied in a deeper voice than usual.

Immediately the attention of Ginny, Ron, Neville and Luna snapped towards him. Hermione rested her hand above his knee, providing him with her support and a sense of ease.

Restarting the DA would mean that much of his time would be split between teaching and improving others, instead of refining his and Hermione’s skills. With Hermione’s Prefect duties and his new desire to study, there simply wouldn’t be enough time to teach dozens of other students how to protect themselves. Especially since they expected attendance numbers to rise, whether by fear of Voldemort or the desire to be taught by him because of his new ‘Chosen One’ status.

He agreed that all students of Hogwarts should be given the right to defend themselves, but he and Hermione determined that to be the responsibility of the Professors, not theirs. People shouldn’t be coming to him for help. He was a teenager just like them, with little life experience. Sure, he had faced Voldemort multiple times before, but he only survived through luck and the arrogance of the Dark Lord. At this current point in time, he knew any Auror could outduel him with ease.

And if he was being honest with himself, he selfishly only wanted to train himself and Hermione. Perhaps there was a time where he would sacrifice himself for any of his friends or schoolmates, but that had changed. He had changed. He had something— someone —to live for and she was something he could not lose.

The thought had come out of nowhere, but he knew it to be true. Truer than any other thought in his mind. He was growing more dependent on Hermione by the day, and it should probably scare him. Should have made him rethink his relationship with her, but it did not . The thought had passed through his mind, but he didn’t care. He liked, no, he loved how things were at the moment. To be with her, to be able to touch her, hold her and kiss her. Right at the moment, he was almost drowning from the desire to wrap his fingers around hers, having somehow resisted the urge ever since Ron returned from his ‘walk.’ 

So, as his friends looked at him with shock evident on their faces, he rested his hand on Hermione’s, causing her to turn hers over and entwined their fingers. A feeling of contentment coursed through his body.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t realised that Ron had asked him a question until Hermione squeezed his hand almost painfully to grab his attention. 

“Mate. Did you hear what I said?”

He gave his redhead friend a blank look.

Scowling, Ron spoke slightly louder, “So, why aren’t we restarting the DA?”

The surrounding chatter seemed to instantly quieten, with Seamus and Dean listening in, their faces filled with surprise and interest.

“Keep your voice down,” hissed Hermione. “We don’t want everyone overhearing us.”

Ron gave an annoyed look at Hermione in response.

Ginny huffed. “Well, I’d like to know, too. Umbridge is gone, why would you not bring the DA back?”

“It's a choice Hermione and I have made,” he began tentatively. “With what happened last year, we’ve decided it’s not in our best interests to teach everyone who wants help from us.”

“But—but you can’t do that,” argued Dean.

“I’m sure he doesn’t actually mean it, right?” interjected Ron, looking at him critically.

Harry shook his head, “Sorry guys, but I mean it. If you really need help, I could help a bit, but please don’t spread the word. That option is only open for my friends.”

“But—”

“We have already decided,” snapped Hermione. “We don’t need the entire student body needing to know about this.”

They all looked at Harry, and he nodded in confirmation. Though he was annoyed that they didn’t take Hermione’s word as his. 

The rest of the feast was tense, and Harry couldn’t help but wish it was just him and Hermione. He had always enjoyed being around other people, but the constant questioning of him and Hermione was slowly getting to him. 

She squeezed his hand and asked softly, “You alright? You seem—” She paused. “Agitated.”

He turned to look at her. “You’re always worrying about me. I should be asking how you’re holding up, considering you snapped at our friends moments ago,” he replied in a low voice so only she could hear.

Hermione seemed neither hurt nor embarrassed. “They should have listened to you the first time. I’m tired of having to explain myself.”

Giving a small smile, he fought the urge to lean his head on her shoulder. “Tonight will be a pain.”

She smiled sadly at him, conveying she knew what he meant and was just as devastated. 

Squeezing her hand one last time, he then went back to his food, where he caught Neville’s curious look at him.

“What?” he asked.

Neville, startled, took a moment to compose himself. “Nothing.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at him, but Neville said nothing else.

Why is it only 5:34? I feel like I’ve been here for hours.

Harry had woken up for the third time in the night. Sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, and without Hermione, meant that he had struggled to get much sleep, if any, at all. He knew it would take some adjusting, but he really didn’t want to. He wanted Hermione near him, to hold, snuggle and even just to talk with.

He missed her. It had barely been seven hours, and he missed her. God, I’m pathetic. I can’t even go half a day without her… Though that didn’t stop a thought coming to him. I wonder if she feels the same .

He shook his head and decided to get up. There was no point staying in bed when he had no chance of getting any more sleep. 

After changing into his robes for the day, he walked past his roommates and out through the dormitory door. Making his way into the common room, he came into a surprising, but welcoming sight.

“Hermione,” he said breathlessly.

The witch, sitting lazily on one of the couches, snapped her attention towards the stairs. Upon spotting him, her face broke out into a massive grin. Not wasting any time, she got up from her seat and dashed towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a lingering kiss.

Smiling into the kiss, he reciprocated it with all the love he felt for her.

When they broke apart, he asked with a laugh, “What was that for?”

“It’s silly,” she replied with a small shake of her head. “I—” She didn’t seem to know how to put it into words. “I missed you,” she finally blurted out.

He began to chuckle, causing her to glare at him playfully. Harry’s eyes softened. “I wasn’t laughing at you, love. I feel the same way.”

Her eyes sparkled at him as he brought her into a hug. He whispered, “I couldn’t get much sleep without you.”

“Me neither,” she replied. 

They stood there in comfortable silence for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, before he realised that she was slowly moving her feet and swaying her body.

“What are you doing?” He questioned.

She pulled apart from him so she could look at him. “Well, you never did ask me for a dance at the Yule Ball, so I think you owe me one now.”

He looked at her, amused. “Right now?”

She took a quick look around the room, “Yes, now . No one will bother us.”

“I might step on your feet, I’m quite inexperienced.”

“As am I. Now stop making excuses and ask me for a dance,” she ordered, but with a smile on her face.

He laughed once more before taking her left hand in his. “Will you have this dance with me, Miss Granger?”

“Why, most certainly, Mister Potter,” she replied in her poshest voice, before giggling like a little girl.

He rolled his eyes at her but was smiling nonetheless.

She swished her wand and a slow-paced tune began to play.

Harry brought her flush against his body and rested his head against hers. He couldn’t help but think they fit so perfectly together. He was slightly taller than her, but their height was still relative enough that they could lean their heads on one another.

They began to swing slowly to the rhythm in a slow and romantic-like way. Hermione began humming along with the tune and Harry closed his eyes, taking in what he could only say was the most peaceful moment of his life.

Her scent, her voice, her touch filled his senses,  drowning out everything around him. He couldn’t believe that he had missed out on this . Missed out on so many opportunities with her, knowing that he could’ve had all of this before Voldemort's resurrection and Dolores Umbridge.

They may have been in their robes, which made it slightly awkward, but he could easily pretend that they were in their formal robes. It was almost like they were back in fourth year at the Yule Ball, only this time he was actually dancing. 

And with the person who’s captured my heart , he thought fondly.

“I’m sorry I never asked you for a dance,” he mentioned softly.

She laid her head onto his shoulder and breathed into his neck, “It doesn’t matter. You’re here with me now.”

Her words sent shivers down his spine and he responded in kind. “And I’m never leaving you,” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

They continued swaying in comfortable silence, enjoying the closeness they felt. It wasn’t one filled with lust and passion, but with care and love. These moments were the things he strived for, and it was perfect .

Dancing had never been something he had ever thought could be an enjoyable activity, but it was quickly becoming a favourite of his. Not that he would admit it to anyone other than Hermione.

As the music slowly faded away, they pulled apart to look at each other. Her beautiful brown eyes were looking at him with such emotion and love that he couldn’t think of anything else to do but bring his lips to hers.

It was different from the kisses they had previously shared, the ones that were passion-filled and almost animalistic. No, the way her hands massaged his hair, and their mutual neediness was something else. It was in these kisses that he knew kissing his best friend was one of the best things in the entire world.  

As their lips parted from one another, they rested their foreheads together. 

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too.”

He wished he could stay here forever. Forget about the world, his troubles, Voldemort, everything and just stay with her . 

He didn’t want to live in a world without her, he just couldn’t—she was too important. And he’d do anything to make sure they would both make it through. If he had to break friendships, kill, murder, manipulate, anything . He would do it—and in a heartbeat, without a moment of hesitation.

A footstep sounded nearby and they reluctantly turned their heads to look at the disturbance.

Neville was standing on the last stair with a goofy expression on his face. “Sorry for interrupting.” He stood around awkwardly before saying with a shy smile, “I am glad for you two, though.”

“Thanks, Neville,” replied Hermione, and Harry gave a small nod, as well.

Giving his friend a suspicious look he asked, “What are you doing up, Neville? It’s awfully early.”

“Um, well, I could ask you the same question,” he replied, attempting to dodge the question.

But he was only met by the blank stares of the duo.

“Right, well, obviously,” having known part of why they were up. He sighed. “Luna asked to see me at breakfast. She said six so—I uh—got ready early.”

Hermione smirked at Neville, “You and Luna then?”

“What?!” exclaimed Neville, looking around frantically. “No—What? Maybe—I—I don’t know.”

Sighing, he asked them, “How did you two get together, then?” Before quickly assuring, “I promise I won’t tell anyone. Just curious, is all.”

Hermione didn’t seem worried. “We’ll have to tell everyone eventually.” Flashing a quick smile, she added, “But could you hold off telling anyone, just to avoid rumours.”

“Of course,” replied Neville.

Hermione gave him a thankful smile. “And in terms of your other question, I think Harry is the best for answering it.”

“Me? You”—and pointed at her—“Had a plan to get us together, didn’t you? You should tell the story.”

Me?” She replied lightly and slapped his hand away. “You seemed more than happy to go along with my plan.”

He grinned at her. “Aha! So you do admit it.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Okay, okay. I was definitely a willing participant,” admitted Harry. But then added optimistically, “But you had a plan right from the movies, didn’t you?”

“To think you’re my boyfriend,” she said with mock hurt. “I had everything planned from the start of summer,” she continued like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He grinned at her. “Start of summer? All that time?”

She scoffed before her features softened. “Longer,” she replied.

Taking a step towards her, he inquired, “Just how long?” 

Neville cleared his throat, shattering the moment. It took them a second to realise that they had forgotten about the presence of their other friend.

“Merlin, sorry, Neville,” apologised Harry. “Kind of got caught up in the moment—too distracting, she is,” nodding his head at Hermione.

She nudged him at the hip with her elbow and furrowed her brows in response, only causing Harry to smile wider.

Neville now wore an amused expression. “So I take it this isn’t a new development.”

Harry shook his head. “No, we became a thing a couple of months back.”

“And you’re both happy?”

Harry raised an eyebrow that said, “Are you serious? Of course!”

“Couldn’t be better,” replied Hermione as she wrapped an arm around Harry’s back while wearing a grin.

Neville looked apologetic as he said his next words. “Sorry for all the questions, I was just wondering how things went between you two so—” but he seemed too embarrassed to continue.

“I think both Harry and I agree, that we waited longer than we should have before admitting our feelings for each other,” informed Hermione. “You’ll know when the moment is right,” she added with a small chuckle.

“I can’t say what will work for you, Neville, but you likely won’t be with her if you don’t try. And if it’s any comfort, I don’t think Luna is someone who would end your friendship because you like her as more than a friend even if she didn’t feel the same way,” said Harry. 

Although he had a feeling Luna would react rather… surprisingly, but... in a positive way.

I should consider spending more time with those two since they came with me to the Ministry of their own accord and gave me thoughtful gifts, ones that will actually help me against Voldemort.

He had found the books Neville had gifted him to be extremely informative on different stances and exercises to get himself better prepared for when he needed to defend himself. Luna’s gift also proved extremely useful, as it was able to tell him what was going on in Wizarding Britain, without too much bias. Though he was slightly disgruntled that the Quibbler was calling him the ‘Chosen One,’ he supposed it was better than being labelled a liar.

“Shall we head to breakfast, then?” asked Harry.

He was met by nods from his two friends, although Neville’s was a lot more reluctant. As it turned out, Neville need not have worried.

I certainly wasn’t expecting that, thought Harry, as he watched a red-faced Neville get dragged away by Luna to the Ravenclaw table, wearing a dazed expression.

As soon as they had arrived in the Great Hall, Luna had literally jumped Neville and snogged the daylights out of him in greeting. It wasn’t the way he or Hermione had gone about admitting their feelings, but Luna had always been a bit on the unorthodox side.

Still, I’m glad Luna is going after what she wants. And I’m sure Neville is relieved at that. I have to admit doing stuff for myself,  feels exhilarating… Or maybe it’s just Hermione… Ahh, who am I kidding, it’s definitely all because of her.

“Mr Potter,” said Professor McGonagall a while later, causing him to look up from his food and towards his Transfiguration Professor.

She gave a small smile as she passed his timetable to him, then Hermione’s before she turned to look back at him.

He didn’t know how deep McGonagall was in Dumbledore’s manipulations and if she could be trusted, but her next statement made it clear she wasn’t here to talk about his summer.

“After you are done with breakfast, I’d like to see you in my office regarding your career path options.” Hermione made a movement of interest. “It’s nothing major, don’t worry, Miss Granger.”

Nodding his head he replied, “I’ll head there in a few minutes, Professor.”

McGonagall gave a curt nod in response and left the Hall.

“I’m coming with you,” said Hermione moments later when he passed his timetable to her.

Harry chuckled. “Well, of course, but I don’t think McGonagall will let you sit in.”

Hermione wanted to argue but instead gave it some thought. She seemed very reluctant but knew it would be better not to aggravate her favourite teacher. “Fine,” she said in a way that reminded him of himself. “But I’ll be waiting right outside her office.”

“Are you babysitting me?” he asked innocently.

“Do you want me to be your babysitter?” She replied with a raised eyebrow and the beginning of a smile.

“Depends,” he replied, thoroughly enjoying their banter.

“Hey, I missed you both,” said Ron unknowingly interrupting them, as he sat opposite. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

Harry gave him a deadpan look. “You weren’t up, but Hermione and I were. We didn’t feel like waiting for you, so we headed off to breakfast.”

Ron seemed shocked by Harry’s passive aggressiveness, having thought that Harry would have forgotten about yesterday after a night’s rest. “But—”

“We should head off, Harry,” interrupted Hermione.

Harry looked at her through his peripheral vision and saw the glint in her eyes. She obviously knew that he still wasn’t impressed with Ron’s attitude yesterday, and wasn’t in the mood to talk with him.

“What?! Where are you both going now?” Questioned Ron, even more confused.

“McGonagall wants to meet with me in her office, something about my future career options,” he replied.

“Oh,” replied Ron lamely, seeing such a trivial thing as uninteresting. “Wait. Why are you going, Hermione?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because he’s my best friend, Ron.”

The redhead was about to reply when he spotted Hermione’s raised eyebrow in the direction of the Ravenclaw table. Ron turned to look and flinched backwards. 

“Even Neville has a girlfriend?! And Luna at that?” he said somewhat shocked.

Harry couldn’t help but let some amusement creep through his voice, “Happened just this morning.”

But Ron didn’t seem to hear him so he and Hermione left the Hall not bothering to say goodbye. 

And Harry found that he didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty.

“Mr Potter, please take a seat,” said McGonagall as he entered her office.

Hermione had waited outside, albeit reluctantly and with a frown, so he had promised to be quick. It was possible that McGonagall had, in fact, asked him to come alone to interrogate him, but he doubted the Deputy Headmistress would break her integrity for the Headmaster. From what he knew, she hadn’t lied to him before and hopefully would not start now.

He took a seat in front of her desk, with a small smile. The professor wasn’t looking at him, and instead carefully checking through a piece of parchment on her desk, before taking a quill and making some notes. Then taking the time to set it aside, she turned her attention to him.

“Are you still aiming to be an Auror after graduating from Hogwarts?”

That’s if there is still an intact Ministry, by then.

“Yes,” he replied.

As far as actually wanting to become an Auror, he had little interest. But he had to choose something for a career. Really, he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to do after Hogwarts. His plan so far only extended to removing the Death Eaters and Voldemort from society, though he was wondering if that would be enough…

Perhaps afterwards, I can help Hermione become Minister of Magic, it’s something she would be amazing at, he thought fondly, before realising he was getting ahead of himself. He was 16 and was practically thinking of spending the rest of his life with Hermione. All right, that was a lie, he had already decided.

McGonagall made a slight noise of irritation before picking up a piece of parchment. “I see… However, if you still want to become an Auror, you are aware that passing NEWT-level Potions is a requirement.”

“Yes, I am, Professor.”

“Well, then why have you not chosen Potions?”

He looked at her confused. “I thought NEWT Potions required an Outstanding from my OWLs.”

McGonagall pursed her lips. “That’s correct, Mr Potter, but only under Professor Snape. Professor Slughorn, however, accepts students who have scored an ‘E’ or higher.”

“So, I can take potions, then?”

McGonagall seemed surprised by his response, “I would’ve thought you’d be disappointed, but you never fail to surprise me.” Giving a small smile she continued, “But yes, you can take potions, and it’s something I highly advise you to do.”

He gave a nod in response.

“I will make sure to inform Professor Slughorn that he has a new student,” began the professor as she walked him to the door. “But if he’s anything like I remember, be warned of being ‘collected.’”

“Collected?” questioned Harry as he opened the door.

“You’ll understand once you meet him.” Upon spotting Hermione leaning on a nearby wall, she clicked her tongue. “Miss Granger, I should’ve known you would be waiting out here.”

Hermione seemed unperturbed by her statement.

Just as they were about to leave McGonagall added, “Oh, and Potter, take Mister Weasley with you, his timetable is quite empty otherwise.”

Something inside him snapped at the mention of his ‘best’ friend. Why should Ron be able to attend potions, as well? I know that he only scored an ‘A’ so this seems like pure bias . But instead, he kept his cool and said innocently, “Ron can find his own way to Potions, Professor. Shouldn't be too hard for his simple mind.”

His Transfiguration Professor frowned at that. “Mister Potter, you should be more respectful of your peers.”

Harry, however, ignored her. “But Professor, how hard can it be? Considering we've only been going to the same classroom for the past five years.”

Hermione sniggered in the background, causing McGonagall to look at her in unhidden shock. The professor blinked a few times before saying, “Morg—” She then shook her head and attempted to fight back a smile. “I’ll tell Mister Weasley myself. Now off you two go,” she said with the wave of her hands, but some amusement evident in her voice.

For some reason, Harry couldn’t help but let a smile grow on his face. It was relieving to say those comments about his first friend. It was as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders, and his mind felt lighter than it had in years.

As they were walking off Hermione bumped into him with a smile on her face. “Never thought you would speak of him like that.”

He shrugged. “It was only the truth.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at that, and he joined in soon afterwards, not caring that he was laughing at the expense of his first friend. 

Who needs Ron anyway? He thought to himself, and the more he thought about it the more he realised he didn’t .

 He needed Hermione, always and forever, but Ron? Did he ever really need him?

“Stupefy!” shouted Hermione, as a scarlet bolt left her wand.

He lunged to his right in order to avoid her spell, grinning the whole time. Loving the excitement, adrenaline, sweat, and pain he was experiencing by duelling with Hermione.

After their classes for the day, they had snuck off into the Room of Requirement and had been duelling ever since. They had spent the entire summer deprived of being able to use their magic, and both of them were enjoying the intensiveness of duelling one another.

Apart from some basic exercises, the teens hadn’t put their bodies under much strain, so were quickly tiring as a result. They had been at it for half an hour—almost non-stop but were managing to keep duelling, as they were in a competitive mindset with one another.

They had both scored an O in Defence, but Harry was confident that this was one thing he could be better than Hermione at.

Since they sincerely cared about the other’s wellbeing, they were avoiding using any dangerous spells, and mostly sticking to charms. Yet that hadn’t stopped them from taking it seriously. Hermione had obviously been studying very hard on Defence before he met up with her, as she had improved significantly since last year. Her movements were faster, spells more accurate, and she showed no hesitation, and it only made it all the more interesting.

She was fast, faster than he had imagined her to be. But he was faster. His years of being Gryffindor’s seeker meant that he had fast reaction time and accurate hand-eye coordination. So as time went on, she was slowly spending more and more time on the defensive.

The disarming spell was a thing of the past. He had been relying on it for years, but its benefits were limited and mostly useless. Now he used a broader set of charms, ranging from the stunning spell, to the banishing charm, and even the use of ‘Aguamenti,’ the water-making spell. And that is, in fact, how he ended their final duel.

Hermione spat out some water from her mouth, as he quickly moved towards her after having sprayed her with vast amounts of water. Which had caused her to fall backwards from the force.

“I did not expect that,” she commented as he helped her up.

Chuckling he replied, “Well clearly, cause you’re thoroughly drenched.”

Hermione, however, only smirked in response because she wrapped both of her soaked arms around him tightly. While she was making his clothes soaked, and his body cold, he could also feel the heat radiating from where their skin made contact.

“Hermione!” he complained.

But she only laughed at him, nuzzling her face into his neck. She then brought a hand to his hair and looked into his eyes, before she connected their mouths. 

Forgetting their soaked state he happily reciprocated, finding the situation all the more arousing. Their duel, if anything, had made him appreciate Hermione more; if that was even possible. She never was one to be weak or timid, and certainly proved herself capable. Something he found he was extremely attracted to.

He may have won the duel in the end, but he could tell that Hermione could more often than not read into exactly what he was going to do, and countered accordingly. He imagined how damn amazing they would be if they ever fought anyone else together. They would be a terrifying sight for sure, especially if they killed their enemies instead of stunning.

Hermione seemed to notice that he was neglecting his ‘duties’ and held onto him tighter. Giving his full attention to his best friend, he happily opened his mouth to accept her tongue, dancing with his with a deeper need than normal.

As Hermione pushed him back, he suddenly found himself on top of a couch, with Hermione quickly manoeuvering her body atop his, firmly pushing him into the cushions as their kissing continued. Not wanting to be one to always relent to her, he rolled them over in a swift moment and Hermione found herself below him instead.

She let out a panting breath as she asked, “What are you doing, Potter?”

“Just taking control,” he replied, before quickly latching their mouths together again.

She made a mewl of protest, and he stopped momentarily to look curiously at her. She quickly waved her wand and muttered the drying charm. Now dry and much warmer, they continued their little ‘session’ completely forgetting and not caring about what they were doing before.

They were just Harry and Hermione, and nothing else mattered.

Later that night Harry was forced to sit alone in the common room because Hermione was doing her prefect patrols. The idea of walking with Hermione under his invisibility cloak came to mind, but he knew it would be weird for Hermione to be seemingly having conversations with herself. So instead, he was making himself useful.

He had never truly appreciated the amount of time and effort Hermione spent writing notes for them, and thought it was time to reciprocate 

Studying alone, and without his girlfriend, was certainly boring to put it lightly. But he kept his goal in mind: to do something for Hermione.

All too often he had slacked off on his work, used Hermione as a tool to keep up with classes. In fact, he was sure that if it wasn’t for her he would’ve barely passed in any subject, besides DADA. 

He heard the portrait door opening and could’ve sworn that the Fat Lady was ranting about something. The footsteps from the newcomer were completely familiar to him, and he looked up to see Hermione.

“Hey, you’re back.”

She sighed dramatically. “Have I ever said I hate dealing with the younger years?”

He looked at her surprised. “I thought you loved them.”

She snorted. “Not when they’re out past curfew, breaking all kinds of rules.”

“But how many times have you been out past curfew and broken the rules?” he questioned with a smirk.

She pursed her lips. “Well that’s different, I was helping you . They’re just doing it to snog each other in broom closets.”

He opened his mouth, but before he could utter a word, Hermione sharply said, “And no, Potter. I am not kissing you in something as dusty as a broom closet.”

“What? I would never suggest such a thing,” he replied innocently, but couldn’t stop his grin from appearing.

She rolled her eyes and walked over to him.

Upon noticing him hard at work, she flashed him a genuine smile. 

And at that moment something clicked in his head. If he wasn’t already sure, he knew he had completely and utterly fallen for her. It was one thing to admit his love to her, but another to realise just how much he really did. 

He wondered how on earth his stupid mind took so long to notice this beautiful, smart, caring, and bloody fantastic witch right in front of him. He could have saved himself the pain of fifth year if he had just opened his eyes. But… what was important was the present, not the past—and right now she was his .

He didn’t know what had come over him that day, but to know that Hermione thought of him in the same regard sent a feeling throughout him which he couldn’t fully describe. Happiness, elation, relief, and desire . Hermione was perfect. She may not be flawless, but to him, she was everything he wanted. She was protective, loving, and dangerous in all the right ways.

When their relationship started, he had some doubts about whether their friendship would remain the same if things ever fell apart. But now he knew, they were in it till the end, in whatever capacity that could be.

He needed her. Needed all of her. They had gone too far that day with Dolohov to ever go back. He hadn’t known it that day, but that was the point of no return, the point of utter and complete trust in one another. And God help him , he wanted to kill another Death Eater. Not in self-defence, but actively go out and hunt down those racist cunts. And he didn’t want to do it alone, no. He wanted to do it with Hermione, share everything with her, the adrenaline, the rush, the satisfaction, and then he wanted to…

“What are you working on?” asked Hermione, taking him away from his thoughts, as she moved to sit next to him.

“Hmm? Oh, I wrote some notes for both of us.”

Hermione tilted her head to look at him with her mouth open, but in a grin. “You took notes?” she said, with some disbelief.

“Hey! I can take notes you know,” he retorted.

“I know—I know, I’m just teasing.” Then taking one of the loose pieces of parchment she quickly skimmed through it. She turned to look at him thoroughly impressed and asked unsurely, “They’re for me, as well?”

He let out a small laugh. “Of course, Hermione. You just lost precious time studying, so I decided to do something for you, regarding academics.”

“Is it weird that I’m more attracted to you now?” Probed Hermione.

“Weird or not, you’ll hear no complaints from me.”

“Good,” she said and started to neatly pack up all the notes he had taken. He gave her a curious look when she was done, but she simply took the quill from his hand and set it on the table. She brought up her feet onto the couch and snuggled her body to his.

“What’s going on?” he asked softly.

“We’re staying here tonight,” she replied, with no room for arguments.

Harry was too tired to argue, especially for something he felt no real objection to. He wanted to be with Hermione, and if they could steal a night, right now, he wasn’t opposed. Maybe they would get a full night’s rest tonight, even if their position was slightly uncomfortable, but being in each other’s presence made up for any complaints. 

He happily wrapped his arms around her and shifted to make himself more comfortable. 

As he noticed her eyes begin to close, he murmured, “Good night, love.”

He noticed the quirk of a smile rise on her features. “Night, Harry.”

Chapter Text

Professor Slughorn, while a welcome substitution for Snape, proved to bring a new problem for Harry. Unlike Snape, Slughorn didn’t loathe Harry. No, instead it was the complete opposite. The Professor seemed to idolise him as the legend everyone thought he was. Slughorn was always giving him his utmost attention and would consistently direct questions towards him. It was almost like he was back in second-year with Lockhart, and one thing Harry strongly disliked was unnecessary attention.

Their first lesson consisted of making the Draught of Living Death, with the most successful student gaining a bottle of Felix Felicis. Having assumed he wasn’t going to be doing potions this year, he had to use a spare textbook. 

Ron, who also needed a textbook, had instantly grabbed the one in better condition and gave Harry a smug smile. Although his smile faded when Harry, without hesitation, sat next to Hermione, leaving a confused Ron to work elsewhere.

“Was that the only spare book available?” Commented Hermione, after seeing the badly worn book in his hand.

Harry shrugged. “Ron took the other book, besides…” He turned to look at her with a sheepish grin. “It adds character don’t you think?”

She raised a sceptical brow. “I think it shows that the previous owner didn't care about their book.”

“Well not everyone can keep their books looking pristine,” he said with a small chuckle. “I have no idea how you manage to keep yours looking practically unused.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him while she organised her ingredients. “Well anyway... You better get started on the potion, with… that .” She sent him a triumphant smile, “Looks like I’ll be winning the Felix Felicis.”

“Like I stood a chance anyway,” grumbled Harry quietly, which resulted in Hermione giving him a small smirk.

Opening the book, it quickly became apparent that someone had studied extensively using this book, the pages were heavily annotated, and there were lines crossed out and entirely re-written. Flipping back to the first page the supposed owner of the book was the ‘Half-Blood Prince.’

He rolled his eyes. So not only do they seem to know the textbook extensively, but they also call themselves that . Turning to the page on the Draught of Living Death, he compared the owner’s notes with what the textbook said. The notes were short and simple but often contradicted what the book said.

For a few seconds he mulled over what to do, and simply decided he’d try to attempt it by following the textbook.

But it quickly became apparent that he wasn’t making much progress following the original method.  Unless this is a prank by the twins, I don’t see what harm a book with notes in it could do… still, best to ask Hermione.

“Hey, Hermione,” he whispered with a nudge. “This book is full of notes and suggests a different method to the textbook. Reckon it’s safe to follow?”

“I’m trying to work, Harry,” replied Hermione lightly, never taking her eyes off her potion. She then blinked before looking over at him, “Notes did you say?”

When he nodded his head, Hermione seemed to think it over. “Well, I suppose you could use them…” Fixing him a serious look she added, “But I’ll be having a look at that book later.”

“Like I could stop you anyway.” 

“Okay, now hush. I’m trying to win the potion for the both of us,” she said, returning her entire focus to the task in front of her.

He smiled at that, and momentarily brushed his hand over hers. It got the reaction he was hoping for, as Hermione’s face had the smallest of blushes.

The notes proved useful… in fact, extremely useful. It made the seemingly impossible easy to make. He was the first done, and the only person’s looking remotely like his, was Hermione. 

The Professor seemed very impressed anyway and glanced between both of their potions, before performing a test. “Well done! I must say, while both your potions are of high quality, Mr Potter’s is perfect.”

Hermione seemed surprised by the announcement but was smiling genuinely at him nonetheless. He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d use the Felix Felicis, but he too was going to use it for the both of them.

After class, Slughorn cornered Harry and Hermione.

“Now in all my years, I have only seen a few students able to create such high quality of the Draught within an hour. It’s simply splendid, splendid!” He paused for what seemed like dramatic effect, “So regarding that, I’d like to invite both you, Mr Potter and… Miss Granger, was it? You’re not related to Hector Dagworth-Granger by any chance?”

“Not that I know of Professor, I’m Muggleborn you see.”

Slughorn’s face turned up in a reminiscent smile. “One of my best students was Muggleborn,” he began looking back at Harry. “It was, in fact, your mother, Lily Evans.”

Harry always found it interesting to learn about his parents from others, but he regarded McGonagall’s words, and wondered if this was a ploy for being ‘collected.’

The Professor gave a small shake of his head, “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes. I’d like to invite you both to the Slug Club.”

“The Slug Club?” asked Harry sceptically.

“Oh, you’re missing out, Mr Potter. Your Mother, Lily, always attended my club with great enthusiasm,” said Slughorn enthusiastically, maybe even desperately. 

He shared a look with Hermione and replied, “Uh yeah, we can come occasionally. But we’re quite busy with our studies and preparing for…” He gave the professor a look, conveying what he meant.

Slughorn’s eyes grew in fear and he replied, “Yes, yes. I completely understand. Uh, come along... whenever! I—I’ve got loads of stories to tell and people for you to meet,” he eventually finished with a smile.

The Professor then quickly fled from them, causing Harry to share a wary look with Hermione.

After leaving the classroom, Hermione regarded him carefully. “So you made a perfect potion following someone else’s notes?” When she received confirmation, she held out her hand. “Well, I’ll need to have a look at that book right now.”

“I thought you were annoyed at the book’s state of wear,” he replied with a smirk.

“You say this like magic can’t mend books.” Narrowing her eyes at him she added, “That is… unless it’s been drenched in dark magic…”

His mouth turned upwards as he replied, “I assure you, it isn’t… at least I think so.” Hermione’s hand opened and closed in a gesture of ‘give,’ so, with a dramatic sigh and a roll of his eyes, he handed it over, to which Hermione practically snatched it.

“Oi, no need to be so aggressive.”

She simply replied with a small ‘hmph.’

With the conversation at an end, Harry set his eyes back to the corridor. It wasn’t long before he noticed a familiar redhead leaning lazily on the corridor wall, although it looked like the redhead was looking for someone.

When Ron’s eye’s lit up in recognition, Harry said cautiously, “Ron?”

That seemed to grab Hermione’s attention, who had been glancing through the potions book as they walked. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at Ron with an almost disdainful expression.

Harry couldn’t blame Hermione, not after Ron’s disrespectful and abhorrent behaviour on the Hogwarts Express. He doubted Hermione even had a single positive thought of Ron.

Even he couldn’t think of anything positive of Ron at that moment in time. More than enough times Ron had broken his trust and respect, and frankly, he was sick of it. Still, he supposed that he should at least hear his first friend out. 

Hell, maybe he’ll apologise for once , he thought, before mentally snorting at such a ridiculous notion. 

“Uh—hey, Harry,” said Ron with some nervousness. “Hermione,” he added in a mumble.

“What?” demanded Hermione, a bit too forcefully.

Harry put his hand on Hermione’s shoulder and conveyed a look to her. She gave an unsure look, and eventually a small nod. He didn't even realise that his hand stayed on Hermione’s shoulder… and the gesture wasn’t missed by Ron.

Harry’s eyes followed Ron’s and when he spotted what was being looked at, he tightened his grip on Hermione ever so slightly.

To his surprise, Ron said nothing, although Harry noticed that the redhead’s face turned slightly red.

Maybe the idea that their friendship was on the last threads was working its way through the redhead’s mind, and he knew any rash decisions could be the end. Or perhaps he had learnt of what they did regarding Dolohov and didn’t want to upset them in any way, in fear of retribution. Although the former was clearly the more accurate answer. They hadn’t left any evidence, and even if they did why would Ron be the first to find out?

“Is there something you need, Ron?” asked Harry.

Weasley’s face fell, “Can’t I just talk to my best friend?” And motioned to an unused classroom.

“Sure…” he replied suspiciously and the three of them went in. Harry hadn’t missed the fact that Ron hadn’t used a plural, even though Hermione was with them.

“Ah sheesh, well Harry,” Ron ran his fingers through his hair. 

Is he really nervous? What does he think I’ll snap his neck or something? The only time he’s this nervous is when he’s around girls… well exempting Hermione, of course. Wait, is that what this is about?

“I’ll get to the point. Why on earth are you acting so bloody cold to me? I’m your best friend,” said Ron.

“Does that question really need answering?” He asked with a raised brow.

“Yes!” Exclaimed Ron, thoroughly confused.

Harry looked at him with a deadpan expression, “Well, if you really ought to know, I’m furious about what you said about Hermione—”

Ron didn’t even give him a chance to finish, for his anger escaped any coherent thought. “That’s the reason?! We’ve been best friends since the first day of school! And now you’re ignoring me over—over nothing!” He complained.

Nothing!?  

“It wasn’t nothing , mate ,” replied Harry coldly, his voice so devoid of emotion he almost shivered at his own delivery. “If you can’t already tell, I’m not in a good mood with you, and frankly I don’t want to be around you. I’m not going to forgive you with a click of my fingers. You went too far.”

“You know I didn’t mean those things!” he yelled back. He glanced at Hermione, “And Hermione knows that too.”

Hermione scoffed, “And how exactly do you know what what I think Ronald ?” she snapped, causing the redhead to jolt in his spot. “Or did you forget you aren’t a mind reader. Like you forgot I was a girl?”

“I—I didn’t!” stammered Ron, his face growing red. Harry only knew it was a matter of time before he exploded in anger. It would take just one more push…

“Well then stop acting like a jealous git. Is it wrong for Harry to spend his time with me?” she asked.

“We—well no, but… actually, yes it is! The only reason you’re friends with Harry is because of me. If it wasn’t for me you would’ve died in the bathroom!” He blurted out.

“Wasn’t for you ?” said Hermione slowly and sarcastically.

“I dropped the club on the troll!”

“Yes, that’s true…” she said thoughtfully. “Although—Didn’t you only come because Harry dragged you? And you hesitated before you did anything… and when you did do something, it was using the correct pronunciation of a spell you ridiculed me about. Need I remind you that was the reason I was in the bathroom in the first place?”

Harry couldn’t help himself, he chuckled, “She does have a point mate.”

Ron scoffed, disbelieving his situation, that his two friends were teaming up against him. “Of course Harry fucking Potter takes her side. Ditches his best friend whenever he feels like it.” 

“Don’t talk about Harry like that, you git, ” snapped Hermione with her finger poking the redhead’s chest forcefully.

“It all comes down to him doesn’t it?” Retorted Ron sarcastically. “Harry this, Harry that. Oh, look how useless Ron is, look how amazing the scarred cunt is. I can’t believe that either of you are my friends.”

“I guess you never really were my best friend then,” said Harry.

“No. Obviously not, not when you throw it all away for a slag!”

He didn’t hesitate, not for a second and his hand connected with Ron’s face full force. There would definitely be a bruise left behind.

“You do not get to say anything like that about her, ever ,” he said venomously, his eyes glaring at Ron’s with a dark green glow. Before his hand reconnected. 

Ron’s groans of pain filled the room. The situation was almost similar to Dolohov’s in a way, and Harry would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it.

As his hand connected with Ron for the fourth time, he jolted in his spot when he felt a sting on his backside.

He turned to look at Hermione who had a slight smirk and her wand pointed lazily at him. She rose her eyebrow in a message that said, ‘You should probably stop.’ Although she didn’t seem to disapprove of his actions.

Ron was still writhing on the ground from the multiple punches Harry had given him, so hadn’t seen the exchange.

When Ron finally managed to gather himself he shouted, “What the fuck, Harry!” He snapped his head to Hermione. “Why didn’t you do anything? You just saw what he did.”

Hermione didn’t seem to want to reveal that she was the reason Harry had stopped. “I did see what he did. And I don’t care, Ronald. Just leave us alone.”

The redhead gaped at her response, betrayal written across his face. After a few moments, he managed to start moving towards the exit.

“You should probably see Pomfrey,” commented Harry as an afterthought.

Ron stopped at the door and looked at him, “Yeah? And tell her what?” He sighed. “Bloody hell, Harry. I hope you can keep that anger under control… I dread to think about what you will do to others. We don’t need another Dark Lord in our midst…”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that, so simply stayed quiet as Ron left the room.

The only thing Harry felt at that moment was relief. It was an odd feeling, regarding the circumstances, but he supposed he had more built-up anger and resentment to Ron than he first believed.  

“Thank you,” whispered Hermione, coming up to him with a brief hug.

“Are you all right?” He asked with concern. 

She gave a small smile. “I’m okay. I’ve learnt to not take what he says to heart. Especially when you’re there to defend me, not that I can’t handle him myself... What about you? I know you were really close to Ron.”

He shook his head. “Ron and I were good friends, sure. But I never had as close a friendship with him, as I do with you. There are things I would only ever tell you about. Ron isn’t the most… understanding type of person. I don’t regret what I just said and did to him, he got what he deserved.”

Harry didn’t know how to describe her face; but, her subtle smirk and twinkling eyes conveyed that she enjoyed what he did. He supposed he couldn’t blame her, while he himself hadn’t felt much of anything, besides relief, Hermione had practically had one of her childhood bullies punished.

How did he feel about that? He’d just lost one of his only friends almost for certain, but Hermione was seemingly satisfied. Was that a worthy trade-off? Lose a friend, and become even closer to his girlfriend... if such a thing was possible.

Questions, questions, questions. They were quickly becoming a more common occurrence, when had he ever questioned himself so much before? 

Well, I better get some definitive answers then, he thought.

“Did you enjoy watching that?” he questioned, but without accusation.

Her expression turned serious and she tilted her head. “What if I did?” She said softly with a quirked brow.

“I’m looking for an answer,” he replied, seriously.

Hermione smirked, before licking her lips languidly, taking a moment to answer. “Yes,” she finally whispered, moving so close he could feel her warm breath against his face. “Is that a problem?” 

Harry couldn’t help himself, his lips found their way to hers. He didn’t know why this darkness of hers was so alluring, but he absolutely loved it. Perhaps it was the loss of everyone but Hermione or the simple fact he now only really cared about her. But her darkness was comforting, inviting and desireful, complementing his own. 

Her lips, soft and pleasantly moist, were melding with his tenderly, allowing him to revel in the sensations before their kisses became hungrier and more passionate. It wasn’t long before things became more and more heated.

Eventually, they separated, albeit reluctantly.

Hermione flashed him a warm smile before she gave his hand a squeeze and the two left the unused classroom. 

The Golden Trio was no more… but now there was a duo, the likes of which would shake the world.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts prided himself on being able to understand other people and have all sorts of insights on how to best influence their ways. But he had little insight on the enigma of Hermione Granger.             

It had been two weeks since the start of term, and even now, while he was patiently waiting for Harry to come to his office, he couldn’t stop musing on the Muggleborn who had acted downright unusually to him during the summer. Which had drawn more attention to him than Harry’s little outburst, the latter, admittedly he should’ve seen coming.

The girl who had followed his orders to not send any mail to Harry the summer before fifth-year, was still there… but also not. A protectiveness had risen in her the likes of which he hadn’t seen before. There was no way Harry could’ve left Privet Drive without her help. He had mulled over what could have been the cause for his ‘escape,’ but besides putting the blame on her, he had absolutely no idea.

And it annoyed him. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was annoyed at a 16-year-old witch. He didn’t get angry at many things, the only recent thing was the collapse of his master plan. But the fact that he had been outsmarted by such a young and inexperienced teenage witch, irked him to his core. 

He had spent literal years putting everything in place for the destruction of Voldemort. From the moment he had left Harry at the Dursleys to the strategic moment of telling Harry about the prophecy. But it had all backfired. Gone—disappeared—all over one summer.

How could things have gone so wrong? 

Was I wrong to tell him about the prophecy? Leave him for such a long time with the Dursleys? Did I not make him dependent enough?

Did he have to make friends with the girl?

She was a problem, a nuisance, an unpredictable variable that had been messing with his plans for years

But he couldn’t do anything to her. She wasn’t guilty of anything, or at least anything he could prove. And if he took her prefect badge away it would raise questions with Minerva which he’d rather not answer.

And Harry. That was another thing, the protectiveness and elusiveness of Hermione, wasn’t limited to her, but also extended to him. The two were now practically attached at the hip. Wherever you saw one, you almost always saw the other. And it was disconcerting. Very disconcerting...

He had heard the news of the loud argument between the Golden Trio on the Hogwarts Express, and it seemed evident that the Golden Trio was no more. For he had not spotted Ronald sitting near them since shortly after the term began.

So, out of curiosity, he had taken the first couple of weeks of school to simply observe . Observe the two, and how they interacted, which, of course, meant that he utilised the various portraits around the school. Was it unethical? Perhaps, but niceties were an unnecessary luxury, the only thing that mattered was defeating Tom. And observing them, with some help, seemed perfectly legitimate to the Headmaster.

Unfortunately for Dumbledore, his attempted espionage hadn’t brought the answers he was looking for.

They barely talked to each other in the classroom, corridors or even in the Great Hall. All places in which he’d be able to listen in. Instead, it seemed as if they were aware of his methods. He had even tried a little subtle Legilimency on Miss Granger, but had unexpectedly been stalled by her mental shields. He only hoped she hadn’t noticed the intrusion.

So, while they didn’t seem to communicate much to each other in public, he suspected they conversed a lot more in the Gryffindor Common Room. He had thought about recruiting a ‘spy’ to listen in on them, but presumed the two would notice such things, so he instead had opted to simply muse about what they were getting up to.

They’re clearly trying to keep secrets from me, and I’ve noticed that both of them are now constantly in the library. Not even Quidditch seems to interest Harry anymore… I can only hope his mind is focused on something else… well… liberating. 

Harry deserved at least something resembling happiness before his time would come. The poor boy didn’t deserve to die to defeat the Dark Lord, but sacrifices have to be made.

But even Dumbledore had to admit all the signs were pointing towards something else… something more sinister. Sure, he had kept numerous secrets from Harry, but it wasn’t a double-edged sword in and of itself. Those two keeping secrets only raised alarms… and a lot at that. 

Faintly he heard the Gargoyle statue moving aside, and heard footsteps ascending the stairs… but there seemed to be two sets of feet, instead of one…

He sighed to himself. It seemed like Harry was already defying his orders.

Why can’t he just do what I want, when I want? Is that too much to ask for an old man?

“Enter,” he said, after receiving a knock on the door.

Dumbledore kept his look regal, as he gazed at the two students who went to sit in front of him. He had specifically asked for Harry to come to his office alone . Yet clearly his order— no, request , he corrected himself—had been ignored. And not only that, but the bushy-haired brunette was silently glaring daggers at him. As to exactly what reasons were, the elderly Headmaster hadn’t the faintest clue. He had some ideas, but couldn’t pinpoint the reason why. 

They were indeed sitting on two separate chairs but he knew for a fact that their chairs had moved from their original position. It was almost like they were magnets, needing to be with one another. He wondered how such a thing could’ve happened over a few short months.

Perhaps Miss Granger is manipulating Harry… he thought absentmindedly to himself.  No, no, no. That’s impossible—she’s firmer in the light than even Harry himself… but there must be something.

He swore inside his mind in frustration. The curse from the Gaunt Ring had done something to his clarity. Some days he could tell everything and anything, other times he was barely capable of keeping up with anything besides the obvious. And at the moment he seemed to be somewhere in the middle.

Even now, as they sat in front of him in silence, they were rapidly sharing information with one another and on such a scale of familiarity, he wondered how he had never noticed this before. Obviously he and the portraits hadn’t been meticulous enough in their observance as he had thought. Rumours were circulating that the two were a couple, but as far as Dumbledore knew, they were just that—rumours.

“Harry,” he began calmly. “I was under the impression that you were to meet me here alone,” he said with a twinkle of a smile. The Headmaster glanced over at Hermione, “I don’t mean to be rude, Miss Granger, but it’s a private matter.”

Hermione gave him an annoyed look in response, but said nothing. Dumbledore carefully directed his gaze at Harry, but he too seemed unimpressed.

“As I said during summer, Headmaster, you may call me by my last name, and that alone.” He then added with a quirk of a brow, “You’re a professor, surely it’s a breach of professionalism to only call me by my first name… some would think you show…” he paused, pretending to think over his next word, “Favouritism...”

Holding in a sigh, he simply frowned at the boy in front of him. Yes, that’s all Harry is a boy… he possesses no true danger to anyone… he must make the right choice. “My apologies, Mr Potter. But as I said—”

“Forgiven, headmaster,” interrupted Harry with a smirk.

Excuse me? Thought Dumbledore momentarily confused. He’s acting like a—

Hermione interrupted his train of thought, and in a cold tone said, “And Headmaster , I am here at Harry’s request.” The way in which she said his title was almost mocking. Her eyes narrowed as she continued, “Where he goes, I go.”

“If she’s not allowed to stay here, Dumbledore, we’ll both be taking our leave,” informed Harry with an expectant look on his face.

While things hadn’t played out exactly as he imagined, the Headmaster had suspected that things might’ve gone this way, and prepared appropriately.

Smiling at Harry he said, “Mr Potter, I called this meeting of the utmost importance… it is in regards to…” Dumbledore glanced at Hermione. “The thing we discussed last year.”

The raven-haired wizard crossed his arms and with a raised eyebrow replied, “You mean the prophecy?”

The Headmaster flinched at his disregard for secrecy.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve already told Hermione everything . But don’t worry, only her.” and shot him a smug smile.

Dumbledore had hoped that Harry would have taken the burden entirely on himself, and himself alone. Not telling anyone else of what the prophecy entailed. It was entirely why he had intended for him to stay alone at the Dursleys, giving him the notion that he had to do anything and everything to protect his friends.

The elderly wizard made a split-second decision and decided it was more trouble than it was worth to separate them. Perhaps I can incorporate both of them into my master plan… yes… yes, that’s what I’ll do.

Frowning at ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ he replied, “Very well, Mr Potter. You may stay Miss Granger. But nothing leaves this room, is that understood?”

They nodded their heads in agreement, but that was only after they shared a look with each other. 

Internally the Headmaster sighed to himself again, all was not well.

“That’s it?” questioned Harry after they viewed the memory of Riddle’s childhood.

Their ‘lesson’ with Dumbledore had only brought up more questions than answers, but at least the origins of Lord Voldemort were revealed to them, although it was odd that this information had been kept from them for so long. They had known that Riddle’s childhood must not have been a… pleasant one, but the fact that it shared some serious similarities to Harry’s raised some massive red flags. 

But while Harry and Riddle shared similar childhoods, there were stark differences between their personalities, and that’s what mattered in Hermione’s opinion. Besides, no matter the final outcome of the war, Hermione knew she’d be beside Harry’s side, wherever that may be.

It had been particularly disturbing to learn the immense power a love potion could have on a person, since it was how Voldemort was conceived. The fact that Tom Riddle Senior left Merope after being rid of the effects of the potion only showed that it took out all sense of free will, and could be used in all sorts of nefarious ways. They agreed that if they ever got the chance, they’d tell the Weasley twins of this new development.

But, it had scarcely taken any time to view the memory, and Dumbledore wanted to postpone more till a later date. Just what is the old man playing at?

Dumbledore took a second before replying, “Har—Mr Potter, I will reveal more memories at a later time. There is much time in the year, and I don’t want to overwhelm you with too much information.”

“Overwhelm me?”

“Yes…” replied Dumbledore, stroking his beard. “You need time to process it.”

“Headmaster I must protest,” said Hermione.

The elderly wizard looked curiously at the witch, with an almost amused expression. “And on what grounds must you protest, Miss Granger?”

“That of logic, sir,” she retorted, and the way Dumbledore subsequently flinched made Harry wonder if the Headmaster felt mentally slapped by his girlfriend. “We all know that Voldemort could make a move anytime, and yet you’re worried about ‘overwhelming’ Harry with information?” Hermione let out a loud snort. “That’s stupid. Anything could happen before you finally decide to share more, the more and quicker we know about Voldemort, the better. If you suddenly die tomorrow what are we supposed to do, if we’re lacking important information?”

Dumbledore gave them a reassuring smile, “You shouldn’t worry, Miss Granger. The defences and professors here make Hogwarts the safest place in Britain. And if something does indeed happen to me, I have a contingency plan in place.”

“You still haven’t answered why you won’t share more,” said Harry.

“Because such information is extremely disturbing. It wouldn’t be safe to share it with you right at this moment,” replied the old man calmly.

“Well Dumbledore , I think you’re just delaying on purpose. Wanting to drag out my dependency on you, making me spend more and more time waiting for answers. Am I wrong?”

It seemed like he hit the right spot because Dumbledore stumbled over his next words, “Harry—Mr Potter, I wo—would never.” The Professor paused and looked off into the distance for a few moments, before turning back. “If you’re really sure, I’ll share another memory, and the most important one.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “The most important one? And why was this not shared first?”

“I have my reasons,” replied the Headmaster absently, as he went to retrieve the memory.

Horcruxes . Voldemort learnt how to become immortal through the use of splitting his soul… and Slughorn played some role in it.

“Just how many of these Horcruxes are there?” asked Harry.

Dumbledore seemed reluctant to answer, but seemingly honestly, replied, “I don’t know for certain, as you can see Horace has manipulated the memory. But I know that two have already been destroyed.”

“Two? Destroyed?” questioned Hermione.

“Yes, Miss Granger. Tom Riddle’s diary, the one Mr Potter destroyed in second-year, and the Gaunt Ring, which I found and destroyed myself.”

Hermione motioned to his arm, “That’s how your arm was injured, no? The ring caused that.”

Dumbledore seemed merely impressed by her deduction. “How perceptive of you. But yes, you’re right. The ring was protected by strong enchantments, which resulted in a deadly curse. Severus managed to stop the spread, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“You’re dying?” asked Harry, his voice devoid of concern.

“Yes, Mr Potter, which is why it’s imperative you listen to my orders when I ask them. Or the entirety of wizarding Britain may fall to Riddle.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You knew the Diary was a Horcrux back in second-year and went out hunting for another, without informing me?”

“I couldn’t be—”

“You keep too many secrets, old man,” interrupted Harry coldly. “We could’ve worked together if you had just told me from the start. But I’m not going to be working with some manipulative old goat, who is still keeping secrets from me.”

“Manipulative old goat?” Repeated Dumbledore with humour.

“Yes, Dumbledore, you’re manipulative . Don’t think that I haven’t realised how you’ve been manipulating me over the years. Or shall I list all the times I can recall?”

For the first time, Harry could ever see anger rise in Dumbledore. “I’ve done what is necessary to stop another Dark Lord. You stand no chance of defeating Riddle without me, Harry. You’re at my school, in my office, and I’ve protected you ever since you were born. Are you not grateful for being able to leave the Dursleys nine months of the year?”

Harry only chuckled in response, “And there it is Dumbledore. Once again you admit that you had to send me back to that place. From what I saw at Grimmauld place, and the Fidelius Charm, such defences seem more than adequate over whatever blood protections might lay over Privet Drive.”

“Sending you back to Privet Drive was not only necessary for your safety, but that of your family as well.”

“Family?” exclaimed Harry. “Do you even listen to yourself, Dumbledore? You know how they’ve treated me over the years, how they despise wizarding kind. And yet you call them my family?” Harry let out a scoff. “And who cares if they’re safe?”

The Headmaster looked disappointed as he said his next words. “They’re still your relatives,” he said lamely.

“If the Black family is anything to go by, it shows that blood is something you’re born with, not chosen. Bellatrix killed Sirius, her cousin, and where were you?” Harry sighed and felt Hermione give his hand a squeeze. He was getting too riled up, but Hermione’s mere presence was enough to calm him down.

Dumbledore’s expression was what Harry could only describe as thoughtful. The Headmaster didn’t even seem the least bit affected.

Harry slowly said, “Staying quiet? Fine. Then tell me this Dumbledore, were you not responsible for organising the deaths of my parents as part of your plan for following the stupid prophecy?”

Dumbledore’s wand came up instantly, but Harry and Hermione were just as quick with theirs in defence. He wouldn't make the first move, but if Dumbledore cast a spell at them, he wouldn’t hesitate in retaliating, and he doubted neither would Hermione.

It took the Headmaster a few seconds to realise what he had just done before he sighed and lowered his wand. “My apologies, Mr Potter and Miss Granger. I seem to be getting a bit senile in my old age.” And chuckled at his own statement.

You got that right, thought Harry.

The two only glowered at him in response, before, slowly and without blinking, lowering their wands.

“Now as to answer your question, I did not orchestrate the deaths of James and Lily Potter. And I’m very disappointed to know Harry, that you would think that of me.”

His answer seemed honest enough, but it hadn’t changed what Harry thought of him. “You keep saying that you’re disappointed sir , and frankly it’s getting annoying. You have been keeping secrets from me, ones which I most definitely should’ve known about. So I don’t respect you any longer, meaning, I don’t give a fuck about how disappointed you are in me.”

Before Dumbledore had a chance to splutter out some excuse, Harry continued. “Sir, you’re either on my side or not. I’m not a tool you can use for whatever purposes you deem fit, I’ll be doing what’s best for myself and Hermione.”

“You need to see the bigger picture Mr Potter, Voldemort concerns all of Wizarding Britain, and he needs to be stopped. And you need me to defeat him. I know it and you know it,” said Dumbledore in a less than friendly tone.

Harry scoffed in response, “I know no such thing. You think you know what’s best?”

“I do know what’s best, you only need to follow my orders like everyone else,” said the Headmaster.

“Blind loyalty?” Quipped Hermione with a raised eyebrow. “No. Loyalty is earned, and you deserve none, especially after the revelation of the Horcruxes. So why on earth should we trust you?”

“You believe in free will, don’t you, sir?” Asked Harry. “Well then let me tell you now. I choose not to have your assistance, your protection, or whatever your stupid plan is. I know there’s a prophecy saying that I’m destined to defeat Voldemort, but I don’t believe in such things. Get your own pawn. I’m done, Hermione’s done…” and in a cold tone added, “ We’re done.”

After a minute of silence, Dumbledore gave an uncharismatic smirk and replied, “If you think that’s what best, Harry.” He smiled, “You and Miss Granger are free to go.”

Probably thinks we’ll come running back to him later. If that’s what he thinks, let him, thought Harry.

As they went to leave Harry said, “Thank you, Headmaster. We’ll be seeing you.”

The Headmaster looked up in confusion, but they were already gone.

Chapter Text

Typically when Harry and Hermione went to the Room of Requirement it would be to practice duelling one another, but this time they had decided to instead focus on their endurance and agility.

Fast reactions were key. Every single millisecond counted in a fight, one mistake and it could all be over. Those who utilised their time the most efficiently were the least likely to be injured. With certain, even minor, injuries potentially being crippling it was of the utmost importance to avoid being hit by spells in the first place.

Instead of running around the school, or the room, they opted to instead do activities with more practicality. 

They had lined up training dummies along the far-side wall and were practising various spells from a position, before quickly alternating their location, all the while throwing additional spells at the target. Just like standing still was stupid in a fight, so was running without any cover fire.

As they weren’t facing each other in a duel, it also gave them a chance to use spells in much more lethal ways than what the spell inventors probably intended.

They were currently practising the Severing Charm on the dummies, attempting to leave a deep cut along their necks. Although they quickly found that aiming such a spell in such a small location was much harder than they had intended.

“Fuck,” muttered Harry, having missed the target, and sliced the wall behind for the third time in a row.

Hermione clicked her tongue. Turning to look at her, he was met with her disapproving gaze.

“Harry, there’s no need to get frustrated with something like this,” she told him, although he couldn’t help but let a small smile grow as he spotted the telltale signs of her own frustration.

“Besides, if you get annoyed, you will end up acting recklessly in a fight,” added Hermione before turning back to the targets with a deep breath. “Here, try to follow what I do. Get a nice grip on your wand—make sure you are calm and steady—take a second to aim at your target—and Diffindo!”

A light green burst fizzled out of her wand and collided with the target dead-on. Before he could comment on her precision, Hermione began to run to her left and fired two subsequent Severing Charms, however, both missing their target, but were in the general vicinity. For added real-life application, Hermione’s stance was low and steady, making sure she would be able to quickly spring in any direction if necessary.

“Well, one out of three is better than zero,” she said with a shrug as she relaxed and took a breather. “Even if those didn’t hit, they would probably react to them in some way.” She paused, and then added softly, “Although I doubt the first one would be able to do anything...” But her manner didn’t seem ashamed, instead prideful.

And looking at the damage she had left with her first spell, he couldn’t help but agree. He could imagine the carnage that would be left if it was a human being. The filthy Death Eater’s life blood flowed down their neck, losing its colour as it soaked the dark robes; could hear the gurgled sounds as they choked on their own blood before their bodies eventually fell with a soft thud, and all that was left was Dolohov’s lifeless eyes staring in shock and fear.

He blinked, taking a moment to register his vivid imagination, before giving a small chuckle.

Turning to Hermione he watched as she blew a strand of her hair out of her sweaty face, the perspiration and evidence of their last couple of hours of training evident throughout her face and body. A smile formed as he continued to stare shamelessly at his girlfriend.

“Just what do you think you’re looking at, Mister?” she questioned with a small smirk having spotted him.

“I was admiring your efforts on the training dummy, before doing the same on my girlfriend.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is that supposed to be charming?” she asked lightly.

“No,” he replied and moved to take up the same position Hermione was in.

“Diffindo!” similar to Hermione he fired his first severing charm at the training doll’s neck and hit his mark. He then took off to the right. 

Attempting to cover fire while running was just as challenging as Harry had assumed after watching Hermione, however, one of his two severing charms managed to leave a deep gash alongside the chest of one of the dummies.

Turning his head to grin at Hermione he couldn’t help but feel a little smug. “Looks like I won.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow, “Did you now? You were a lot slower in your execution.”

“I didn’t know such a rule applied,” he replied with a smirk.

“Well if you really think you won , let’s have a quick duel,” she replied complementing his smirk with her own.

He couldn’t help but gulp, although he was able to cast spells faster and more powerfully than Hermione, she had quickly picked up how he fought and as such countered practically every move he made. Suffice to say, the Aguamenti trick had only worked once, the last time he tried it, resulted in a very drenched Harry, a consequence of her shield charm.

Still, he would never turn down a duel with Hermione. Especially considering the activities that often occurred afterwards were well worth it.

“You’re on,” he replied.

And with a few banishing charms, they cleared the space of obstacles. 

They stood twenty metres apart, slowly circling each other as if the other was the prey. Neither of them wanted to make the first move, wanting to quickly counter the initial attack.

But Harry gave in to the urge, knowing that his girlfriend possessed an infinite amount of patience.

With a quick flick of his wand, he fired a smokescreen directly in front of him, obscuring their view. Harry then quickly fired a few more around the hall, to make it impossible to avoid, and walked into it. 

Gripping his wand tightly, and walking slowly, he attempted to use his hearing to listen for Hermione… but it was quiet, too quiet. 

And then he saw a small white light in the smoke. 

His initial thoughts were that it was a Lumos from her wand and he had a stunning spell on the tip of his tongue, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew it was simply a ploy from Hermione.

There was no way Hermione would carelessly cast such a spell, even if her vision was obscured. It was likely that she had trapped some sort of light in place, and was waiting for him to fire and reveal his location before quickly subduing him.

He had initially cast the smokescreens hoping that Hermione would maybe panic a bit and attempt to instantly clear the smoke, giving him time to attack her. But she had stayed calm and formulated a plan against him, he briefly wondered how well she could think on her feet if they were in real danger.

Judging by the light’s position, which kept moving slowly to the left, Hermione had to be to his right. 

He quickly cast a Ventus Jinx, in that direction clearing the view. The subsequent gasp that sounded made him believe that he had hit his mark.

But before he had a chance to locate Hermione, a red bolt was rapidly approaching him, followed by another three, all in a horizontal line, preventing him from dodging.

He quickly parried the one coming straight at him, before firing his own stunners back. But she wasn’t there, only smoke.

Damn it, now she’s going to try to use my own idea against me.  

He was surrounded by smoke on all sides, and he was right in the middle, easily visible if she came from any direction. 

Slowly backing away into the smoke behind him, he kept his wand alert and ready for Hermione to appear somewhere in his field of view, prepared to put an end to the duel.

He tried to step back again but hit something solid. Then there was a familiar hand on his shoulder and a husky whisper in his ear that sent shivers down his spine.

“Seems like you’ve fallen right into my trap.”

He turned his head, ready to retort her comment, but in a swift and practised movement, his body was quickly turned and pushed to the ground. 

He had no idea where she learnt the move and he wondered if she had other techniques up her sleeve. Even after all these years, Hermione Granger was still full of surprises.

As the smoke was vanished by her, he quickly located Hermione and his face of surprise must have been a sight for him, as her eyes clouded and her mouth curved into a smirk. 

Within moments she was holding his arms in place and her legs on either side of him with her body low.

Her body mere inches above his, her face above his own. Hermione’s eyes were burning into his with such intensity, he hadn’t known from her but already wanted more of.

“Do you concede?” she questioned, her voice low.

As Harry looked into the darkening eyes of the women he utterly loved he didn’t even bother resisting in the slightest and simply replied, “I concede.”

Hermione’s face was full of satisfaction, and although he had lost, and rightfully so, Harry didn’t feel at all disappointed. 

“Gosh, I love you so much,” he couldn’t help but breathe out, still staring into those dark brown eyes.

“I know you do,” She replied with a smile and slowly lowered her head, their lips meeting in a loving kiss. “And I, you.”

Her grip on his hands lessened, giving Harry the chance to move his arms. He quickly took the opportunity to bring his hand behind her head and draw her into another kiss, this time, less tender and more hungry and full of desire.

Hermione melted into the kiss, bringing her body snug against him before Harry flipped them over. Hermione was too caught up in the kiss to object.

A small mewl sounded from her, as if in slight protest but no sooner had she voiced her displeasure, her legs wrapped around him firmly.

Their lips fusing together, their tongues dancing, her hands running through his hair, his hands moving along her back. 

Harry groaned into her mouth, seemingly only encouraging Hermione for she pulled them even closer together. Wrapping his arms around her back, he lifted her up with surprising ease, and without breaking apart they found themselves on a comfy couch. 

Moving his mouth from Hermione’s, with much protest from her, he began giving small kisses down her neck. With her body against his, he felt every shudder she made. Smirking, he began to nibble on her ear, eliciting all kinds of sounds from Hermione.

“Harry?” she moaned softly.

He reluctantly moved away and settled his gaze on her face.

Hermione’s face was tinged red and wore a lazy smile. She bit on her lip in an ever so cute way, slightly intimidated by his gaze.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do your eyes have to be so green?” she finally breathed out after an intense moment.

He let out a chuckle. “Do you not like them?” She opened her mouth in protest but he continued, “Well, unfortunately, I can’t change them but I could as—mm.”

His words had been cut off by Hermione’s warm, delectable lips. She separated temporarily only to say, “Less talking, more kissing.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

His response was innocent enough, but it seemed to stir something inside Hermione for she was suddenly the one in full control.

“What?” he questioned with a bemused face at Hermione who had her palms splayed on top of his chest.

She giggled like an excited child, only making him give her a goofy grin.

“I can’t believe we waited so long to do something… fun ,” she confessed. As if what they were doing was illegal, which it certainly felt like.

Fun. That certainly was one word for it. But it wasn’t just the snogging, and secret touches between them that were so exciting.

It was their banter, their duels, their complete and utter trust in one another. Now there was no one who compared to Hermione in his mind. Not a single soul.

He would give up anyone for her. Be it ten people, one hundred or everyone in the damn world.

After the summer break, he only had his mind on two things. Himself and Hermione.  

You know what they say there’s nothing that brings you together like killing scum. He thought for a moment. Okay, no one says that, but it sounds right.

Chuckling he said, “Now look at the one who’s talking.”

A moment later they were completely lost in each other. 

Harry had said he would sleep, but he didn’t really want to. His eyes were still on Hermione, even as she snoozed peacefully on his chest.

Pulling up the blanket that he had summoned from somewhere in the room, he let out a long relieved breath.

At that moment he didn’t care about Ron, the Weasleys, the Order, Voldemort, or his friends. The only thing on his mind was how many more times he could experience moments like this with Hermione.

Hermione. His Hermione. His girlfriend . His everything.

He took everything in; every time she breathed in and out; the curl of her smile; the tightness of her grip around him; the feeling of utter bliss .

It was perfect… or at least it was until a faint and frustrated voice echoed from outside

“Why won’t the door fucking appear!” 

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, her arms moving away from his waist. He instantly missed the feeling.

Tilting her head upwards to look at him, she asked, “Was that–”

“Malfoy,” finished Harry lamely for her, having recognised the ferret’s voice. 

The two shared a look and quickly untangled from each other. They quickly composed their rumpled clothes but didn’t even try to attempt taming what was both of their hair, having been thoroughly run through by each other’s hands.

What is that bloody idiot yelling about? Thought Harry bitterly, far from happy for having their peaceful moment ruined. ...Furthermore, why on earth is he here in the first place?

After sharing a chaste kiss on the lips, the two walked outside the door and were immediately met with a confused and pale Draco Malfoy who jumped back in surprise after the door magically materialised.

Malfoy’s face then shifted to anger and his mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“No snarky comment for us, Malfoy?” questioned Harry.

The blonde-haired Slytherin regained his composure and with a sneer replied, “It wouldn’t be worth the effort to comment on the disgusting Potter and Mudblood relationship. Never thought you’d stoop so low Potter, but I guess everyone has preferences. Even if it is dirty shit.”

He was going to move to intercept and make some cold comeback, but Hermione took a step forward. And what followed was a sight indeed.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, before taking a quick look left and right, and then sent a massive grin at Draco Malfoy. 

A moment of confusion passed over Malfoy’s face, before Hermione’s knee came into contact with his groin, and the only sound that filled the dark corridor was the Slytherin’s girly cries.

Harry couldn’t help but flinch, extremely thankful that he was on Hermione’s side.

Hermione used her right hand to wipe off the top of her stockings as if they were dirty. One hand having plucked Malfoy’s wand from his pocket during her action.

“Fuck you Granger,” spat the ferret with great difficulty.

Still wearing a grin Hermione half-crouched in front of the ferret, who was sitting on his arse, hands covering his lower region as if afraid she would do further damage.

Harry moved into Draco’s line of sight, smirking at his pained expression, as Hermione crouched down so she was level with the blonde.

“You’re an idiot Malfoy,” she responded matter-of-factly.

She brought out her right hand close to his face, before flicking her index finger into his left eye.

Covering his left eye in pain and rage, Malfoy jumped up in a frenzy in an attempt to attack the brunette who had already retreated to a safe distance at a calm pace.

So oblivious to his surroundings Draco didn’t notice that Harry was to his right, and had stuck out his foot in anticipation. 

The Slytherin tripped and fell, landing flat on his face with a loud thud.

It wasn’t funny, wasn’t amusing, and it probably wasn’t a good thing to do. But it felt satisfying and just.

Hermione walked slowly towards the fallen ferret, the corridor was so quiet that every footstep of hers on the stone floor echoed off the stone. “If we weren’t at school right now, let’s just say…” Her voice became a mere cold whisper, “A cruciatus would be nothing in comparison to what you would feel.” And then she giggled as if it was some joke.

But Harry knew better and when their eyes locked it only confirmed his thoughts.

It was anything but a joke. She meant every word and he admitted to himself that the sly smirk she wore was extremely sexy.

And maybe his girlfriend was going slightly mad, but call him crazy, because he liked her statement

He wanted to see what creative ways Hermione would come up with to torture Malfoy. Because let there be no mistake. That’s exactly what it would be. 

Draco side-eyed Hermione warily, before letting out a scoff. Clearly thinking they’d never do something so… cruel. He’d eventually come to know he was very wrong.

“You’ll both pay for that,” retorted Malfoy, albeit weakly. Harry almost felt some pity for the blonde-haired Slytherin, but those thoughts disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared. He hadn’t forgotten everything Draco had done to them over the past years. He deserved no sympathy, no pity.

You reap what you sow.

And Malfoy had sown many seeds against him and Hermione.

Hermione threw Malfoy’s wand back towards the Slytherin, after a few seconds of hesitation, although he didn’t miss the pressure she had applied to it earlier. She could have broken it or ‘confiscated’ it, but that probably wouldn't have gone well with the Professors, however, who could be to blame for a ‘small’ crack in his wand? The damage was done by hand, no less.

Knowing that Malfoy would probably shoot them in the back, Harry took out his wand and used a Full Body-Bind Curse on him. He wasn’t sure if it was possible, but he swore that Draco’s face became paler once frozen. 

Come to think of it, Draco had been looking paler ever since the start of the year.

“I don’t know what you were doing here Malfoy . But you better not show up here again or… there’ll be worse to come.” he had intended to scare the Slytherin, and if Malfoy’s eyes were anything to go by, it worked.

Harry and Hermione then walked off, acting as if they were simply two best friends having a nighttime stroll. They knew there was no evidence against them. Still, he wouldn’t be surprised if Snape followed up on Malfoy’s accusations. But thinking back to Malfoy’s actions he didn’t think the ferret would tell anyone. 

But a question kept popping up in Harry’s head. Just what was Malfoy doing there?

As if Hermione somehow heard his question she suggested, “Let’s take your invisibility cloak next time, and wait to see what Malfoy is trying to do. He definitely isn’t up to anything good.”

On September 19, Hermione quickly walked down the stairs into the common room and promptly located her boyfriend. 

Her face quickly grew into a grin, and with a short run, she ran right up to him and gave him a thorough kiss.

Harry’s eyes were wide, clearly surprised by her, but he returned the kiss enthusiastically, nonetheless.

Today was her birthday, and she’d be damned if she cared what others thought about her. Being with Harry was a good enough present for her anyway. 

Besides, let people know that they were together. Half the school probably already thought so. Let the fangirls attempt whatever they wanted, for it would not work.

“Well that’s one way to tell everyone,” he said softly, amused.

Hermione simply acknowledged his comment and hugged him closer. She missed his warmth, his comfort, his presence, every night they didn’t share together. 

“Happy 17th, Hermione,” whispered Harry into her ear. Before he left a kiss on her cheek.

“Wow, Finally!” came a voice from the dorm stairs. “That’s ten galleons, Dean. I don’t know why you trusted Ron, but a bet’s a bet… only took three years.”

A loud groan sounded from further up.

Turning to look at the voice, Hermione noticed it was Seamus. She frowned. They made a bet on if Harry and I would get together? Seriously? She mentally rolled her eyes. Idiots .

Harry shook his head lightly, “Ignore them.”

She hummed, hooked her arm around Harry’s and leaned into him, as they walked out from Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady exclaiming something like “scandalous” as they left.

“You’ll get your birthday present tonight ,” he whispered into her ear, as they walked to the Great Hall.

Her eyes twinkled as she turned to look at him. “I’m looking forward to it. But, Harry, please make sure it’s nothing too grand. You’re a good enough present as is.”

His cheeks blushed ever so slightly as he gave a small smile. “Hermione, I know nearly everything about you. You shouldn’t worry, I’m sure you’ll like it.”

With a teasing smile, she asked, “Have I ever mentioned how cute of a boy you look like when you smile?”

“A boy?” he questioned with a frown, stopping in his step.

She released her hold on him and took a step back from him. Looking at his face she said matter-of-factly, “Yes a boy.” And started to continue on her way to the Great Hall trying to hide a smile.

Suddenly a hand reached out and caught hold of her wrist. As Harry moved closer to her, she gave him a lazy look with the turn of her head wondering just what he was going to say.

“I’m not a boy,” he replied in a low voice. His face suddenly inches away from hers.

“No?” she challenged with a smirk. 

Harry walked slowly towards her, and Hermione instinctually walked back, until she was against the wall.

“What are you doing Harry?”

He looked right to left, before settling his gaze back on her. She had her right eyebrow raised, thinking he’d back down. 

“I’m gonna wipe that smirk off your face,” came his words moments before his warm mouth was against hers.

Her eyes closed at the contact, her arms reaching into his hair.

Using his two hands, Harry cupped her face, deepening the kiss. She melted into it.

If anyone was to walk past now there would be no mistaking what they were doing. Thankfully the usually busy hallway was deserted since it was early morning.

And although Hermione didn’t care about other students catching what they were doing. She was mortified at the thought of McGonagall seeing and subsequently informing them of the inappropriateness to do something in public.

But the moment Harry’s lips touched hers again she forgot everything. 

She was addicted to his lips. His breath, his scent.

She was addicted to Harry. 

And she knew if she lost her addiction she’d have some seriously life-threatening withdrawal symptoms.

They eventually separated with Harry seeming a lot more cheerful than before. As was Hermione. “Now how are you going to top that tonight?” 

“You’ll see,” he replied casually averting his gaze.

“Ooh, mysterious,” she said dramatically. “This is certainly a change. Now while I would usually beat the secret out of you, I’ll let it slide considering the secret’s context will likely be a worthwhile surprise.”

As they continued their way, arms linked she asked, “By the way what brought that on anyway?”

“You called me a boy,” he replied with a frown. “I know you don’t mean it the same way as Dumbledore, but after hearing the old coot say call me his boy for so many years I’m frankly sick of it. Especially considering I’m not one anymore.”

“Oh, Harry. I’m sorry,” apologised Hermione, cupping one of his hands, while mentally ridiculing herself for overlooking such a thing.

“Hey, no need. You were only teasing, besides—it is your birthday today. There are more important things.”

As they arrived outside the Great Hall, Harry shared a look with Hermione.

Smiling at him, she started to move into the hall, her arm still hooked with Harry’s. 

He didn’t complain, besides she knew the one who would be in more danger would be her.

Who cares what others think? I’ll be as close as I want to my best friend, damn the consequences it’s my birthday. He belongs to no other woman than me.

As they made their way to their seats on the Gryffindor Table, the hall was suddenly filled with gasps and hushed whispers.

The duo ignored them and sat down as if everything was completely normal.

Which it was, everyone just now knew the nature of their relationship.

Some of the Gryffindor early risers looked as though she and Harry had grown two heads. After she sent a glare their way, their gaze averted.

Before she realised it, Harry had already begun plating her favourite foods.

“Harry,” she scolded lightly.

“What?” he questioned, turning to look at her. “Oh did I forget something? Do you not like all of these? I’m sure you…”

She put her hand on his arm to grab his attention. “I wasn’t complaining. Everything’s perfect Harry, but I can do it myself you know.”

“I know you can, but so can I,” he replied with a wink.

Her eyes half-rolled at his statement, but she couldn’t help a smile forming.

“People are staring at the two of you,” said Neville, as he and Luna sat opposite them.

“What’s new?” replied Harry with a shrug. 

“I know you’re together now, but you’re being overly affectionate with each other. I thought you’d keep it a secret.” 

“Neville dear, they’ve always been like this. You just don’t watch them every day.”

“Dear?” questioned Hermione.

Neville’s face turned beet red. 

“Isn’t that how couples refer to each other?” asked Luna, her head tilted. “Neville and I are together, I don’t see the problem,” she continued, confused as to how her logic was seemingly wrong.

“Well you aren’t wrong Luna, it’s just… not something used often at our age,” explained Hermione. 

“Why should there be restrictions on what I can and cannot call my boyfriend?”

“Luna,” voiced Neville barely above a whisper. His face had turned even redder.

“But I don’t get it, dear. What’s wrong with me calling you that? I care about you very much, so I don’t see why there’s a problem with it.”

Hermione looked over at Harry who was trying to hold in a laugh. She sent a disapproving frown but was holding in her own laugh.

“See look at the two of them,” said Luna a bit loudly, garnering the attention of some nearby housemates. “They’ve always been like this. I’ve noticed it from the Ravenclaw table, how come you haven’t dear .” Luna’s emphasis on ‘dear’ was done in such a way, that Hermione thought she did indeed deserve to be in Ravenclaw. The blonde was certainly smarter than she seemed.

Hermione snapped her head back to their friends, her face suddenly neutral. Harry’s forced cough sounded next to her. His foot then gave a light kick against hers. To which she returned with more force.

“And now they’re having fun kicking each other,” said Luna knowingly.

“Wha—how do you know that?” asked Harry.

“And could you please not tell the entire school, Luna?” hissed Hermione, leaning forwards. 

“Oh, my bad. Sorry, Hermione.” And Hermione thought she meant it, but it was hard to tell with Luna’s dreamy voice.

Harry leaned over and went to whisper something in her ear, but she quickly reprimanded in a harsh whisper, “Stop it.”

He did but looked as though he was going to burst into laughter. 

As she ate her food, she constantly hid her own amusement. Harry all the while side-glancing at her knowingly.

After classes, the two returned to Gryffindor tower only to be met with a massive:

“SURPRISE!” yelled dozens of their housemates, suddenly appearing from behind furniture and out of entryways.

Harry slowly turned his head to look at Hermione, who had both her eyebrows raised in question.

He silently assured her that he had nothing to do with this, and was just as confused as her.

She gave a curt nod and looked back to everyone else, irritation evident.

“Hey guys,” said a very familiar voice.

“Ron,” he said bitterly.

The redhead gave a nervous smile and turned to address the 

 “So—uh Happy Birthday, Hermione?” He eventually said, retreating under her gaze.

“Happy Birthday!” yelled the rest of the attendees. 

Hermione said nothing for a few seconds, and others would mistake it for shock, but he knew that wasn’t the case.

“Seriously Ronald,” were her only words, before she turned on her heel, and walked out the portrait hole.

A multitude of loud whispers filled the room. 

“Where is she going?”

“What’s going on?”

“Are drinks still on?”

“Don’t worry, Harry and Ron are there, they’ll deal with it.”

Harry’s teeth clenched with every sentence he heard. Clearly, they understood nothing.

“I got the Firewhisky!” exclaimed Seamus, quickly gathering the attention of most people.

Ron’s weak chuckle of, “Heh,” brought Harry back to reality.

“Ron,” began Harry in a low, cold tone.

“Uh—I just though—”

“You thought wrong. Very fucking wrong, you stupid idiot.” Trying his very hardest to not punch his former best friend and make a scene, he continued. “If you were going to do something as stupid as this, you should have told me. Thought this through before doing anything.”

Before giving Ron a chance to respond, he continued, “But that’s the thing, you didn’t think about that, did you? You didn’t think . I would have thought after years of being Hermione’s friend you would have known she doesn’t like these types of things.”

“Please, Harry, I’m sorry. To both you and Hermione,” replied Ron pleadingly.

Harry snorted at his words. “You’re sorry?” he replied mockingly.  “Ronald Weasley is sorry for something? He’s apologising?” He scoffed at the redhead. “If you truly were sorry, you would have apologised sincerely to Hermione before we got to school. And after you said those things about Hermione, the other day. But you did not.”

Ron had no response to that. Everything Harry said was true. He had royally fucked up. Bad. And there was no way to rectify the situation. Not even a surprise party, which had failed spectacularly. 

“I’m leaving,” said Harry, before ‘accidentally’ stepping on Ron’s foot, as he turned to leave.

“Harry,” came Ginny’s desperate voice as she appeared in front of him. 

“Move,” he said commandingly.

“I just want a word—” But he forcefully moved her aside, causing Ginny to gasp. Harry only cared about finding Hermione.

It seemed he didn’t have to go far, for Hermione was walking back and forth muttering to herself, swear words thrown everywhere.

“Getting it out of your system?” he asked lightly, with a sheepish smile. 

She clicked her tongue. “I didn’t want to have a word with the fucking git,” she hissed out. “If he really thinks he can ever get back in my good graces, he’s as delusional as Trelawney.” 

“Hermione, that's unfair for Trelawney.”

“I know,” she began with a sigh. “But I had to make a comparison with somebody as mad as him.”

He embraced her in his arms, the gesture surprising Hermione a little. But soon after she collapsed into his hold nonetheless.

“Better now?” he asked, as they moved apart.

“Always am when you’re here.”

“That’s good,” he replied, “I was going to take you a little later, but I don’t see why I can’t now.”

Hermione hummed as she followed Harry. “Thank you, Harry. I really mean it.”

“You don’t even know what your present is yet.”

“I don’t, but that’s not what I was referring to. Just thank you for sticking by me.”

“You’ve always stuck by me, I’d be a bad friend not to do the same. Besides, I want to. I’m not doing this out of obligation.”

“Thanks, again.”

Then he heard it. A sizzling sound, a tell-tale noise of a spell. He snapped his head around and raised his wand quickly casting a Protego, to protect Hermione. The spell bounced off and hit the ceiling.

An audible gasp sounded from a doorway, and Harry spotted a glimpse of red hair.

“Stupefy,” he said quickly, aiming at the assailant, and hitting his mark dead-on.

“That was a bat-bogey hex,” mentioned Hermione as they walked over to the fallen student.

“Who uses that spell?” he asked, never remembering such a spell.

“You don’t know? It’s practically Ginny’s favourite spell. She’s used it numerous times on boys and girls alike. It’s why no one picks on her.”

He hadn’t known that. He supposed he always thought of Ginny as someone innocent. 

Just how much have I not noticed over the years , he wondered.

When they finally made their way over to the spell caster, they found it was none other than Ginny Weasley.

“So it was you Ginny?” said Harry with a frown, before his expression quickly morphed into anger.

She had tried to attack Hermione. And on her birthday no less.

Hermione calmly took Ginny’s wand away, before releasing her from the stunner.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” she asked.

“Yo—you.” The redhead snapped her attention to Harry. “Why did you block it?” 

“Why did I block it?” he repeated almost as if confusion. “Are you fucking serious? Why the hell did you try to hex her in the first place!”

“She’s been taking all your attention,” she said as if that was meant to answer everything.

“So?” he questioned as if Ginny was an idiot. “I choose who I give my attention to. And I decided that I want to give it to Hermione, my best friend and girlfriend. Is that somehow a crime of hers?”

“Y—yes?” she replied more question than answer. The Weasleys seemed to be very unsure of themselves these days.

“Don’t attempt anything like that again Ginny. I guarantee you will regret it.”

The redhead verbally gulped, before she cried, “But you’re mine, Harry! Always have been, always will be.” Ginny’s voice sounded very unlike her. 

Suddenly, Hermione quickly moved forward, and slammed the redhead against the wall, causing Ginny to wince in pain.

Ginny’s eyes widened in shock. “What the hell Hermione? Why did you do that? And I can’t believe you, I thought you were on my side, with the advice you gave me in the past. You’re supposed to know Harry better than anyone.”

A cruel smile rose on Hermione’s features. “You’re right, I do know Harry better than anyone. Yet you still haven’t figured it out. Have you Ginevra?” Hermione pushed against Ginny, pressing her harder against the wall. With a smirk, she said bluntly, “I was getting you out of the way.”

Before Ginny had a chance to retort Hermione, the brunette quickly added, “And no I do not and never have thought you’d be a challenge to me but you are objectively better looking than me, and based on Harry’s infatuation with Cho, I just… limited the variables so to speak.” Hermione then gave her a cold smile.

Harry frowned slightly but couldn’t help but agree that his younger self was extremely shallow and obsessed with physical beauty.

“But why?! I thought you were my friend. I thought you were trying to help me get with Harry, so we’d be one big happy family.”

Hermione let out a laugh. “All I did was realise the obvious and did what I’d always desired. And what about you? You’re still infatuated with him as one is with a celebrity crush. Tell me, Ginevra, do you know anything about him—save quidditch?”

Ginny sputtered, thinking rapidly. “W—well, his favourite colour is green.”

Hermione snorted at the girl , she truly knew nothing. “And where did you gather that? From the colour of his eyes?” Ginny’s eyes lit up. “It’s red you idiot. Even a dunderhead like Ron knows that.”

Ginny looked desperately at her boyfriend and said softly, “Harry—help please.”

He pretended not to listen and leaned against the opposite wall, looking around lazily.

The redhead’s eyes glowed dark, “What did you do to him?” 

“Me? I did nothing, Ginevra.”

“Then why the fuck is he hanging out with an ugly, bigtooth, uptight smartarse like yourself? He should be with someone who knows him, who can help him be the hero he wants to be. Make him feel good, bear beautiful children for him, I would be a real wife.” Ginny then grinned triumphantly at her, thinking she’d succeeded in bringing Hermione to tears.

But Ginny was wrong, and off by a mile.

Hermione couldn’t help it, she laughed. Hard, hysterically, almost manically. So hard, in fact, that she had to use her right hand to steady herself, letting go of the redhead.

Harry simply let out a loud scoff, having heard every word.

Once Hermione had finally calmed down she spoke. “I don’t know what’s funnier. The fact that everything you said was wrong, or that you truly believe you are correct.”

“I am correct! Harry doesn’t need you. He needs someone gorgeous and from a pureblood family.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at that. She didn’t take Ginny for someone who cared about blood purity. But she supposed many wizards and witches did share those views to varying degrees. There was no way that Ginny shared the same extreme views as Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but she obviously held a bias for purebloods, or maybe just against her.

“Actually,” began a low voice from behind Hermione. Harry had moved closer and put his left arm around his girlfriend's waist, pulling her closer possessively. His eyes glittered and mouth curved in a wry smile directed at the redhead. “I do need her. And I do not need you, Ginevra. Besides… have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re far below Hermione in looks.” 

The Weasley girl gasped and went pale, suddenly becoming very self-conscious.

“And also in personality,” he added. “And intelligence… and there’s no way you’re better than her at kissing.”

“I know how to kiss really well,” came Ginny’s reply, in what sounded more like a whine.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend already?” asked Harry as if he was bored.

Ginny’s face went red. “Well—yes. But I was just dating him until you’d notice me.”

“So not only all of that but you’d willingly drop your current boyfriend, without a second thought, to potentially have a chance with me?”

The redhead nodded enthusiastically.

Harry’s next words cut the Weasley girl deep. “Well then you’re a horrid creature aren’t you? How could anyone possibly trust you if you would do something so shallow? And what happens if someone better comes along one day? You’d ditch whoever you're with for them instantly, right?”

Ginny was at a loss for words.

“C’mon Hermione, let’s get out of here,” said Harry tugging lightly on her arm.

Hermione wanted to punish Ginny with more than words. But they were in school, filled with Professors, house-elves and students. And while the situation may have been different with Malfoy, people would actually support and defend Ginny. She was well-liked amongst the houses.

So that meant she couldn’t make the first move.

Didn’t mean she couldn’t retaliate, however.

“See you lost. In fact, you lost years ago. You should get over it instead of throwing a tantrum like a child,” she told Ginny, dropping the Weasley’s wand in front of her.

Hermione wanted to get out of school already, so she could be able to deal with problems without waiting for provocation. But given the circumstances this would be the best way, especially considering how easy it would be to rile the Weasley up. They were notorious for being hot-headed and instinctual. 

Before they made it a few steps another bat bogey hex came their way. Hermione blocked it. She also smirked.

“What the fuck did I say before?!” roared Harry.

But before he had a chance to act further Hermione put her arm in his way, and cast a spell he had never seen before. 

A flock of birds suddenly emerged from her wand and began to chase and peck at Ginny, causing her to scream and run away. 

“Won’t that leave marks on her?” asked Harry, not really caring, but he was curious.

“I couldn’t care less right now,” replied Hermione.

He smiled and tried to cheer her up. Her birthday had already been ruined enough, he had to make it up to her. “Now let me take you to the astronomy tower and give your present as promised. Hopefully, we won’t encounter any more drama.”

She gave a warm smile and squeezed his hand before the two went off hand in hand.

It was a cold and chilly night in Scotland, but they had worn sufficient clothing.

Hermione walked up and quickly noticed the mat, pillows and blanket set up on the rooftop. “When did you get time to do this?”

Harry scratched the back of his head. “I had Dobby help. He was very glad to assist, and I quote ‘Dobby be very happy to help with Mistress Miney’s birthday.’”

She smiled. “It’s beautiful. I’ll need to knit some more clothes to thank him.”

They made their way over to the mat and sat down. Resting on the pillows, he pulled out the box hidden underneath one of the pillows, just where he had told Dobby to put it.

“I know this isn’t much, but well—here you are,” he told her, passing the present to her.

Hermione looked at him with teary eyes, “Than—”

“No more thank yous, please Hermione.” With a gesture of his hands, he added, “Just open it.”

And so she did. Her mouth stayed agape as she stared at the gift inside. 

It was a beautiful carving of a stag and otter in a small gold circle. It was smooth to touch, and every part of it had been expertly made. It was of their two patronuses, and Hermione felt like they had passed another barrier of intimacy. 

“I did some research and Tonks helped get one created. I even managed a sketch for what it should look like… do you like it? I know it’s nowhere near as amazing as the pock—”

“Like it? I love it!” she exclaimed, before practically jumping on Harry, and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Once she had relinquished her hold, she turned around, so she could lean back against Harry. She twirled the necklace in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship.

“Oh my god, Harry. Is this real gold?”

“Yep. Well, I couldn’t have it being prone to breaking now could I?”

“It’s perfect Harry,” she whispered.

“I’m glad,” he replied. He put out his palm. “Let me put it on you.”

Hermione gracefully placed the necklace down into his hand, and Harry slowly put it around her neck. 

She couldn’t help but let her hand fiddle with it as if it was the most precious thing ever.

Resting his head on her shoulder, he whispered, “You know my Patronus is Prongs, and yours is an Otter. So it’s Potter?” His brows moved suggestively when Hermione turned to look at him. 

“Are you asking me to marry you?” 

His face lit up in a blush. “Uh—well,” he words caught in his throat. He paused and locked eyes with her. “Yes?”

“Oh, Harry. I was just teasing, but ask me that question in a couple of years,” she replied with a wink.

“Will do,” he replied with a laugh.

She laughed with a smile, before leaning her head onto Harry's chest and let out a long sigh.

They sat like that for a while, enjoying the fresh air, and the night sky. Harry brought the blanket up, to cover them.

Looking up at him, she asked, “How many stars do you think there are?”

“I’m not sure. But I know for a fact that the brightest one is in my arms right now.”

“I never took you for such a romantic.”

“I’m only one for you, love.”

Hermione hummed again, as she leaned back further into his hold. She loved when Harry called her that.

For the next couple of hours, the two talked quietly back and forth. But most of the time just enjoyed the comfortable silence. Hermione thought it was her best birthday ever. 

In the past, Ron and Harry had given her presents, but they hadn’t done anything else besides that. And she never had any real Muggle friends in school.

But this time she was spending it with someone she loved. Yes, she had in the past, having had birthdays with her parents, but it was nothing compared to Harry. It had always been the three of them in the past, Ron, Harry and her. Meaning she never got to spend it with anyone truly close. But now it was just Harry and her. And they were closer together than ever.

Feeling a bit adventurous, she gave a light kiss at the base of his neck. And then another, and another. Soon after their lips were locked in their usual struggle.

Moving her position so she was straddling him, she brought her mouth up to his ear, and whispered, “I want to do something to go through with our plan tonight. Something... we should have done a while ago.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, as his lips turned up in a smirk and brushed against hers, their heads nuzzling.

“I am,” she replied, giving a small mewl as their lips melded into one.

A small smirk formed on his face. “I’ve got everything ready, shall we head out now.”

With her own smirk forming, and her eyes blazing like a raging fire, she replied with one word,

“Yes.”