Disclaimer: The Potterverse belongs to JKR. I'm just taking the characters out for a really strange ride. ;)
CHAPTER TEN:
Hermione got unsteadily to her feet. Her mind burned as she turned and walked unseeingly towards one of the bookshelves.
Tonks is right, she realized. There was little that Harry valued above his friendship with her and Ron. It was something of a sacred thing to him. Oh, who was she kidding? To all of us. With Dumbledore dead and Hogwarts virtually closed, it was one of the few constants left in their lives.
So of course it was a perfect target for the Solvamus. In her mind, she saw again how furious Harry had gotten when he'd thought Sirius had betrayed his parents, his godfather's close friends. It was the first time she'd seen Harry with murder in his eyes. He could easily turn that fury on himself.
"Hermione, turn `round."
She did, and was jolted when she found herself standing a few feet away from the emerald-eyed boy she'd been thinking about. He didn't move, merely studied her carefully as she nervously stepped back.
She's terrified. He shook his head. "You see?" he asked, but again it was Tonks' voice that came out. "It scares you just to be in the same room with him."
The fear gradually left the young witch as she realized that the shapeshifting Auror had merely taken Harry's form. "That's not fair! You surprised me!" she protested.
"Do you think it'll be easier if you knew beforehand?" Tonks asked skeptically. A wave of her wand sent her borrowed form shimmering until she was back to her real appearance.
"Do you think this is easy for me at all?!" Hermione shot back. "Do you think I WANT to do this? If this were anyone else, I wouldn't even - !"
Tears stood in her eyes as her voice fell to a whisper. "But ... this is Harry. To give myself to someone who cares so much for me, when I care for him, too ... to save his life when he's saved mine ..." the girl continued shakily. "I HAVE to try, do you understand? Do you think I could live with myself, if Harry died when I had the means to save him?"
A brief silence descended between them.
Tonks sighed. "That doesn't change the fact that your plan calls for willingness. If you've never even thought of Harry that way -"
"I ... have."
The admission was uttered so softly that Tonks wasn't sure at first that she'd heard it.
Hermione was remembering the dream where Harry had challenged her. All these years and you never thought about what it would be like between us? Not once? With most everyone teasing them at one point or another, of course she had.
She bit her lip. "During the Triwizard, I ... wondered. Ron (who was being a total git!) had this insane idea that Harry wanted all the glory for himself. They had this terrific row, and Harry and I ended up spending a lot of time by ourselves. There was even one point when I thought ..."
"One more time," she said. "You're doing the inflection wrong. Its Accio -"
"Enough!" In a move that surprised them both, Harry grabbed a nearby book and hurled it against the wall of the common room. "We've been at this all day and it's just not working! It's nearly one in the morning, just HOURS 'til the first task, Hermione! I'm never going to learn the Summoning Charm in time!" His face was tight and full of frustration. "What the bleeding hell was I thinking? What the hell am I DOING? I'm not ready for this ... I'm too young, I don't know enough!" Suddenly it began to spill out, all the anxiety and confusion he'd kept bottled up inside since Dumbledore pulled his name out of the Triwizard cup.
Normally, Hermione would've chastised her friend for his intemperate language, but in this case it was easy to understand. Harry's scared, she realized as she took a good look at him, and who wouldn't be in his place?
Truth to tell, so was she. The thought of Harry facing a full grown Hungarian Horntail, with nothing but his wand and a fourth-year's knowledge of magic, twisted up her insides. She couldn't do a simple "Wingardium Leviosa" now if she ...
The girl's head snapped up. Oh of course! Granger, you daft girl ...
"Harry," she said softly, "we're doing this wrong." She nodded towards the couch in the middle of the common room. "Lie down."
The unexpected request instantly stopped his tirade. "Huh?"
Her only answer was a smile, a slow, snarky type of grin with a dash of know-it-all in it. Harry was thoroughly familiar with it by now, and although it could sometimes be annoying, today it reassured him. It meant Hermione had what she sometimes called an "aha!" moment.
"What is it?" he asked, curiosity displacing his qualms as he placed his wand on a side table and lowered himself on the sofa.
"You'll see." She tossed a pillow at him. "Put your head up on the rest." When it was done, she stood up next to the end of the couch. "Comfy? Now close your eyes."
He placed the throw pillow under his head and looked up at her inquiringly, beginning one of their wordless exchanges. Hermione, what're you - ?
Her grin widened a little. Trust me. Come on, we don't have all day.
The boy sighed and shut his eyes. He heard the familiar rustling of robes and wondered what she was doing.
And then he felt her warm hands touch his face. For some reason his breath hitched as fingertips gently traced imaginary lines across his forehead, his temples, down his cheeks, until they reached his jaw and started up again.
"You - we," she amended softly, "are too wound up. We can't do spells if we can't concentrate. You've been at this all day. You know what you need to about the charm. Forget the deadline." Her palms settled gently against the sides of his face. "Just let yourself absorb it, Harry. Relax and listen to me."
She went over the intricacies of summoning again. Harry didn't know how long he lay there. With his eyes closed, he found himself in a world surrounded by Hermione - her voice, the reassuring faint pressure of her hands, the light scent of strawberries. She recounted the important points of the spell, speaking in tones no louder than a murmur, and yet he didn't miss a thing.
"Got it?" she asked softly.
Harry gradually opened his eyes, and wasn't surprised to see her face hovering just a few inches above his own. So that was the rustling. Hermione must've knelt down so she could better reach him.
"I think so." For the first time today he smiled at her. "Thank you." He took one of her hands and, completely on impulse, kissed it. And then he sort of forgot to let it go.
"Harry?" This time it was her turn to sound uncertain, because the kiss on her hand and the expression in his eyes was something new.
"`Mione ..." His voice was husky and his face was flushed. It would take so little. He squeezed her hand and thought, If I raised my head a few inches ...
If I leaned down a little more ... Hermione swallowed, her eyes drawn to Harry's lips. Oh Merlin, she - they were actually going to do this, throw caution to the winds.
BONG!
The two teenagers sprang apart as the common room's grandfather clock loudly chimed the hour.
When it was finished, Harry and Hermione looked at the clock, and then at each other. And laughed. Typical, that. But there was also a bit of relief mixed into it. Not today, then. Today and probably for the coming days they would still be best mates. No need to complicate that. Not yet. With the tournament looming, it was probably better that way.
Hermione went to the table and handed Harry his wand. "Try it now."
The boy got to his feet. He stood in front of the fireplace and glanced at the objects nearby. He decided to try something easy first. He raised his wand. "Accio quill!"
To his surprise the quill launched itself off the table and flew straight towards him. He caught it just before it went past him.
Harry stared at the quill disbelievingly in his hand for a wordless second. Then he looked up triumphantly at Hermione.
The snarky grin was fully in place. "What're you waiting for? Go on, try something else."
The present-day Hermione shook her head. Compared to what they'd faced since then, preparing for the Triwizard Tournament seemed like nothing now. "But so many things happened ... Harry still had this big crush on Cho, Ron came to his senses, and Cedric Diggory died."
"Which brings us to another point. What about Ron?" Tonks asked gently, sure that this was the winning question.
The young witch's chin lifted. "I'm going to tell him. He has every right to know, and it wouldn't be fair otherwise. I just hope that he ... understands." But Tonks could see by the way Hermione's eyes glimmered that she thought he wouldn't. It was no secret that Ron Weasley had a jealous streak a mile wide. It was also obvious that the girl cared a great deal for the redhead and thought she was going to lose him.
And yet she'll do this anyway. How in the world did Harry find friends like these? The Auror knew that she was losing the argument in the face of Hermione's determination, but she wasn't ready to give up. Mentally she flung every filthy curse she could think of at Snape and his ilk. Sodding bastards.
"Look," she said, "we don't need to decide on anything tonight, right? Sleep on it, Hermione, talk to Remus."
For a second the girl looked like she was about to protest. Instead she nodded timidly. "Tonks ...?"
"Yeah?"
"Is there another way?" Hermione asked in a choked voice. Just like that, the façade of certainty crumbled, leaving behind a plainly frightened girl who wasn't even eighteen.
Impulsively, Tonks reached out to the teenager and held her tightly. "We'll find one, Hermione, you'll see." She hoped for their sakes that it was true.
==================
Much later, when Hermione had calmed down, she left Tonks and found Lupin in Harry's room. Ron had long gone.
She watched as the professor carefully "drained" the unconscious teenager of his dreams and stored them in the pensieve. Since Hermione's discovery - that the specially crafted pensieve was starting to siphon off Harry's memories as well as his dreams - Lupin and Tonks couldn't rely on the automated spell they'd been using up to then. Instead, they began to remove the Solvamus-fed dreams manually.
The process was slow and a lot more taxing for the adults, and, unfortunately, no less dreadful for Harry. The brown-haired girl watched as Lupin carefully drew the covers around the boy's trembling form.
"He's like a son to you, isn't he?" Hermione didn't know what made her say that. It just slipped out.
Lupin looked surprised. Then he said reflectively, "In a way, I suppose. It wouldn't be hard, having a son like Harry." He gave a last tug at the blankets. "He reminds me so much of James and Lily."
She hesitated. "Is he very much like them?" His parents were an understandably touchy issue with Harry. Although he often told Hermione and Ron about the discoveries he'd made about his parents, it was still a long way from getting a real sense of them.
"He favors James mostly. Same obstinacy, same penchant for getting into trouble. But he's got his mother's luminous green eyes." For a second Lupin's face shone, and Hermione got a glimpse of the lad he'd been a long time ago. "You would've liked them, I think, though you would've probably gotten along better with Lily than with James. He could be a prat sometimes."
"Lily, on the other hand ... she was considered something of a prize, you know," he mused. "Half the lads at school thought James had the most amazing luck and the other half were just plain envious. Even Sirius and I envied him, not in a bad way of course. We were happy for him, but at the same time ..." Lupin shrugged good-naturedly. "You actually remind me of her a bit. She was clever, really good at charms and potions, and she had a sharp sense of humor."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm afraid I'm nothing like that. I'm not popular or anything."
"I didn't say she was popular. I said she was prized," he corrected.
"That's never been me, either." It came out a bit more sharp than she'd intended.
Forgetting himself for a second, Lupin grinned. "Well, to Harry and Ron you certainly are," he said, before realizing how awful that sounded under the circumstances. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean -"
The girl turned away. "It was the Solvamus."
"Not true." Lupin shook his head. "It's always impressed me, this bond that the three of you share. It certainly surpasses anything we had as the Marauders." This time it was his voice that held a bitter note. In the end, it had been a Marauder who had betrayed James and Lily, and resurrected Voldemort. "I think Severus picked up on that. He would've been blind not to see it. I noticed it as early as on that train trip to Hogwarts, and I didn't even know who the three of you were."
"Tell me," he asked, slipping into a tone reminiscent of his teaching days at Hogwarts, "do you know what most people do after a Dementor attack?"
When Hermione shook her head, the professor continued, "Nine times out of ten, they run. Aside from how horrific the attack itself is, the Dementors leave a trail of invisible dread behind them that everyone instinctively tries to get away from as quickly as possible. But that didn't even cross your minds, did it? There you were, two thirteen year-olds who'd just witnessed a horrific attack, bent over this insensible boy."
"Of course not." The young witch sounded indignant. "Harry was unconscious, we couldn't just leave him."
"But that's precisely it. Do you know what was even more remarkable about it? The three of you just went on after that, discussing what had happened and what to do next as if the attack had been nothing more than a particularly bad Quidditch match. Oh, you were shaken by what had happened, but in the end you were more concerned for Harry."
Lupin steepled his hands together and gazed at her over the triangle of his fingers. "Do you think that just applies to Harry? Do you think that, if the situation were reversed and the Dementors had gone after you, the boys would be less staunch or less worried? I heard about the Triwizard tournament, how Harry wouldn't leave the water until he was sure you were safe."
Hermione had the grace to blush, but she still pointed out that Harry had waited until everyone was safe.
"Oh we heard. Moral fiber," Lupin intoned with a wide grin. "Sirius and I felt absurdly like proud parents when we found out. In that sense Harry's an improvement on James, on all of us, when we were that age. Perhaps because life has tried him more." He said the last sadly, and Hermione sensed that his thoughts had shifted to the present.
Strangely, she felt she had to console him. "Whatever Harry says, it's not his fault," she said in a low voice. "I know him. I wish he'd been more honest with me, but whatever his feelings he wouldn't have done this to anybody. Not without those THINGS messing up his system."
Hermione's attempt to comfort him was both amazing and incredibly touching. Lupin spoke softly, "Don't do it, Hermione. If not for your sake, then for Harry's. Don't give the boy another thing to regret. If he hurts you, it will be more than he can bear. I may not know him as well as you do, but I know Harry enough to be sure of that."
Hermione gazed at him, and then at the dark-haired boy. She stepped closer to the bed and hesitantly stretched out a hand. "You told Harry about the potion."
Lupin guessed that it was the first time the young witch had dared to touch the boy who'd attacked her. He found himself holding his breath. "Yes."
Hermione lightly grazed Harry's motionless left hand with a fingertip. He's so cold. When she stepped away, the figure on the bed seemed calmer somehow, the rise and fall of his chest even and sedate. "But not about the deadline. Not that in a week he could die, or go mad."
The older man hesitated. "No."
"But you told me."
His stricken look was answer enough.
When Hermione spoke again, her tones were a strange mix of sadness and coldness. Even though she addressed Lupin by his honorific, they both understood that she was now speaking to him as an equal. "Understand one thing, Professor. I don't want to do this. No girl in her right mind would. I've struggled against it; I never even wanted to mention it. So the fact that I have means that I've attacked it with every argument I could think of, both logical and emotional, and in the end they all lost to a single consideration: I don't want Harry to die or to go insane. And I'll throw in another one that the Order will understand: We can't let Voldemort win."
"Maybe you didn't tell me so it would come to this, but it's done. I can't pretend that I don't know, and I can't act as if I never thought of a way to save him." She paused, and there was a faraway look in her eyes. "We - Harry and I - once talked about what it meant, that we're in a war now. If we lose ..." A shudder passed through her. Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first - that's what Malfoy had said a long time ago.
"If there is another way, trust me, I want to be the first to hear about it. But in the meantime, we need to discuss my idea with Snape's predecessor ... hypothetically, if possible. We need an objective opinion. Will you do that for me, Professor?"
Lupin could only nod, his throat tight as Hermione said goodnight and departed. Why was he so surprised, he thought, that the girl had figured out the consequences and was doing her best to face them squarely?
He and Sirius had found themselves discussing the trio once, analyzing them individually. They both loved Harry, were fond of Ron, but every time they came to Hermione, Sirius would break into one of his rare smiles. "You should've seen her, Moony. Stepped right between me and Harry in a flash, and me looking exactly like a crazed killer escaped from Azkaban. She's going to be something, that girl."
Lupin nodded. Hermione was an amazing student. "Yes, she's so smart and -"
"Oh that's not half of it!" Sirius interrupted, leaning forward. "She was scared, flying around on Buckbeak and even facing me. It's not like Harry and Ron, half the time they go in like we used to, half-cocked and consequences be damned, you know? That's not how the girl works. She minds, you can see it, but she doesn't let it stop her. That one doesn't stop thinking, Remus, not even when she's frightened. You mark my words, she's going to be a formidable witch one day."
After what had just happened, Lupin didn't quite agree. "You were a bit off, Padfoot," he whispered to the darkness. "Seems to me that she is already."
===============
That night it was Hermione's turn to dream. It was set in the past, but she sensed immediately - the way you simply knew in dreams - that she and Harry were a mix of their past and present selves.
"Do you have a minute, Hermione?" Harry's face was grave as he waited for her to get up. It was Friday and, like everyone else, he had shirked his school robes for casual clothes as soon as the last class was through.
The brown-haired girl glanced up at him. She'd been sitting on the steps with some of the younger Gryffindors. She noticed fleetingly that she and Harry had both chosen muggle wear again, jeans and comfortable shirts and, in Harry's case, a light hooded jacket. She excused herself, and pretended not to notice the knowing looks and titters as she joined the famous bespectacled youth. Without needing to discuss it, they slowly headed away from the crowd of milling students.
Funny how things turned out. Hagrid had once called the three of them the most pitiful bunch of misfits he'd ever laid eyes on. Now look at them. She, a muggle-born, was a prefect and promising candidate for Head Girl no less, while Ron was prefect and Quidditch Keeper, and Harry ... well everyone knew who Harry was, and not because he was captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
They walked quietly side by side for awhile. Harry had a tight nervy look on his face and his fists were crammed into his jacket.
Only when they were far from everyone did Hermione speak. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He didn't even try to pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about. "Is it really so hard to understand, Hermione? I didn't want to ruin the way things were, and I didn't want to get between you and Ron." It was much the same explanation he'd given her earlier. "And to be completely honest, half the time I wasn't sure what I was feeling. We've been friends for so long, and I've always felt strongly about you. It was just ... easier not to define that."
"And you're sure now?" she asked caustically.
Harry stopped and turned towards her. They were by the lake now, and he scuffed his shoe on the stony bank. "Do you remember when we went off to rescue Sirius at the Ministry?"
She nodded.
"You nearly died," he said in a whisper. "From the moment you were hit, it was like everything shut down for me. Nothing else mattered until Neville told me you were alive. But then Sirius died and I ..." He swallowed. Even now, talking about his godfather left him aching. But at least he could talk about Sirius now. He could still barely speak Dumbledore's name.
Instinctively, and because this was a dream, Hermione reached for his hands the way she used to. "I've always wanted to tell you how sorry I was about Sirius. I know how much you loved him."
Harry bent his head. "You shouldn't be sorry. You helped me save him once, and you tried to again at the Ministry. He admired you a lot, my godfather. He said you were smart and had a lot of spunk ..."
She smiled at that. 'You really are the brightest witch of your age.' It was one of the grandest compliments she had ever received and coming as it had from a normally taciturn wizard, well ... Sometimes, when Hermione was feeling discouraged, she'd bring that memory out and bask in it a bit.
"... and that I was a brainless git if I settled for less than that. He caught me agonizing over Cho, you see," Harry explained. He looked down at their joined hands. "He saw right through me. I should've listened to him."
She didn't know what to say. She was about to pull away when he spoke again.
"What would you have done, Hermione, if I'd come to you like this and asked you out?" he asked abruptly.
This time she did pull away, but he only let go of one hand. "Harry, I asked Ron - "
He interrupted hurriedly, "Not at this time you haven't. Don't you remember this day? This was before you asked Ron to the Slug Club party. Before me and Ginny," Harry explained in a patient tone. "Ron was finishing something and we were waiting for him in the courtyard where all the other students were. I was razzing with Neville and Seamus, and you were surrounded by this admiring group of third years. You looked so earnest talking to them and suddenly I thought, 'I could do it now. Just walk over and ask. The worst she could do is turn me down.'"
He shook his head regretfully. "In the end I didn't because it felt like the whole of Hogwarts was looking over my shoulder," he explained. "After years of denying dozens of rumors about us, well ... and then you asked Ron to the party, and I saw Ginny with Dean ..."
"You can't tell me you regretted being with Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed.
"No, being with Ginny was one of the best times of my life. For awhile, it felt like life was ... normal," he said wistfully. "But however much I want it to be, my life's not normal, is it? And it doesn't change the fact that I should've asked that day. I wish I'd tried and found out about us first." Suddenly green eyes locked gazes with brown. "If I had, Hermione, what would you have said?"
The girl fought the urge to look away. She'd forgotten how disconcerting it could be, being at the receiving end of one of Harry's challenging, young/old, emerald stares.
It had been there even when they were kids newly arrived at Hogwarts, she thought. It had taken her awhile to understand how an eleven year old could look so sad. Over the years it had just gotten worse. 'I've seen death,' those eyes said now, the same ones that saw thestrals where most people only saw air, 'and sometimes it comes looking for me. But I won't give up hope.'
"I ..." What would she have said? She would've been taken aback, but would she have turned him down? "I don't know. Probably sit there stunned for a bit, mortified that you'd ask in front of the whole school."
Surprisingly, Harry grinned. "Nice answer, Ms. Granger, but a tad evasive I think. What would Professor McGonagall say?" he asked in mock shock.
She couldn't believe he was actually teasing her! It was as if they were really back in their last year at Hogwarts. "I believe I'm free not to answer, Mr. Potter, since it was a purely hypothetical question," she said in her best schoolmarm's voice.
"Alright then." There was a nervous tone in his voice, and suddenly the young witch knew exactly what was coming next. "Hermione, would you like to go out with me? Lunch this weekend at Hogsmeade?"
And just as she expected, she found herself tongue-tied. "I - goodness!"
"Is that a no?" He sounded genuinely curious.
"No. I mean, yes! I mean - you're laughing at me, Harry James Potter!" she fumed indignantly.
"Sorry!" he managed to gasp. His eyes were tearing over from the effort to stifle the merry sounds rising from his throat. "It's just, I knew I'd be nervous. I never once thought you'd be, too."
"I'm not nervous, you twit, I'm stunned!" Hermione exclaimed. "You realize those words just changed everything between us?"
Serious now, she withdrew her remaining hand. "I probably would've gone out with you, Harry," she added quietly. "I would've," she repeated, "and if it hadn't worked out, or worse, if it had, things would've been completely awkward from then on."
"Because of Ron," he muttered.
"Because of the three of us. Oh Harry, it's different when somebody likes you, you know that. Then you're not best mates anymore, are you? You can't act around a bloke the same way when you know - and everyone else knows - that he likes you."
He looked at her in disbelief. "You're joking. What do you think I'd do? Jump you if you take my arm?"
"Of course not!" she denied immediately, forgetting for the moment that that was almost exactly what he'd done. "It's just that you can't do certain things because it can all be misconstrued. Oh for pity's sake!" she exclaimed in exasperation, because his expression was still indignant. "Are you daft? What would you think if another girl acted like that with you? Wouldn't you think that she liked you? And if it turned out later that she didn't in that way, if after that she turned you down, wouldn't everyone else think that she - that I - was leading you on?"
Harry pursed his lips. "I never thought about it like that."
She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes you're just as thick as Ron."
"Maybe." He averted his gaze at her second invocation of Ron's name, but this time Hermione caught the glint in his eyes.
Jealousy? But Harry back in all their years at Hogwarts had never shown jealousy. Unless ... She placed her hands in her pockets and studied him closely. "This isn't a dream, is it?" she asked flatly.
He had the grace to look embarrassed. "Not exactly. Wait!" as she stepped back, poised to flee. He held up his hands placatingly. "I didn't plan this, Hermione. I don't even know how I got here, but now that I am, please ... You're not in danger. The Solvamus - I don't know why, but I think I'm free of it here."
"Get out of my head, Potter," she demanded tightly.
"Please, you have to listen - !"
"No. NO!" The girl was both furious and fearful, an explosive combination. "First you take advantage of me, and now you're in my head! I don't have a single reason to do anything you ask," she spat.
"I know, but please," he begged, "trust me on this -"
"That's just it," she cut in again. "I don't trust you, Harry! Get OUT!"
The words seemed literally to stun him. Harry tottered as if he'd just received a nasty blow to the head, and it was all he could do to stay on his feet.
His throat moved soundlessly, but in the end his shoulders slumped in defeat. "S-sorry," he whispered, and it was obvious from the way his voice shook that he was trying not to break down in front of her. "If - if you ever change your mind ... just call me ..." He gave up as his voice cracked. Without another word, he turned and sprinted away.
Her heart pounding, Hermione watched him flee. He looked so small, she thought, as if he had had all the fight torn out of him. It surprised her that she was near tears herself. There was a painful feeling in her chest and she didn't know why. She could only think: I did that. I said the one thing neither of us ever thought I'd say ...
And then the next thing she knew she was waking to the sound of somebody pounding on her door. She grabbed her wand.
"Hermione, you awake? It's Tonks. Sorry `bout this, but we need the three of you in the library, right away."
With a sigh of relief, the girl reached for a robe. "Coming," she mumbled loud enough for Tonks to hear. She stifled a yawn, then abruptly froze. Had she heard right? The three of them?
Heart pounding, Hermione tightened the belt on her robe. They had not been together since she and Ron had drawn Harry in from the roof.
Had it been real? Or was it just a dream? She knew she was about to find out.
A/N: Unlike the previous chapters, which were posted elsewhere before and only needed some editing, this one is totally new. That should make some readers happy (hi, tabitoo!). Personally I thought this chapter was a bit too long, but somehow I didn't think you'd mind. >;) That's the good news. The bad news is posting will probably take longer from now on (have to write and edit and, knowing me, re-write). So tell me what you think. As usual I'll try to answer any questions.