Chapter 8
"Okay," Hermione said, a fine tremor running through her limbs.
It was a struggle to rein in his emotions, to stay soft for her when a part of him trembled too— from rage so intense it felt like it was eating his insides as he knelt before her, trying to look put together when he felt like he was an inch away from losing his bloody mind.
Harry stood up and held out his hand, his heart skipping a beat while he waited for her to take it. No matter how many times he reached for her, an ugly voice inside him still whispered she'd never want to take the hand of a freak like him.
But her warm hand slid into his, the contact shoving that hateful voice back into the darkness where it belonged. She grasped him like a lifeline, and he pulled her up gently, leading her around to the bed.
She climbed in, and he helped her under the covers as he made himself comfortable sitting beside her.
Her head rested on her pillow while one of her hands worried the edge of the blanket as she pulled it up to her chin. "Do you—do you want to lay next to me?"
The heat from his rage changed to a different type of heat at the thought of lying next to her and feeling her soft body against his again. Harry froze for a moment, staring at her, probably too hard, because her face slowly turned red and her eyes dropped.
"You don't have to." She whispered, and he cursed himself for his lack of control.
"No." He said roughly, and she flinched. Fuck. He cleared his throat, speaking in a low, warm tone, "Are you sure you want me to?"
"Yes." The answer came immediately, compelled by the veritaserum.
Those fucking bastards. Harry worked on keeping his wildly careening emotions off his face as he made his way around the bed to climb in on the other side. He didn't trust himself under the covers with her, so he lay on top of the covers, scooting close to her, until he was cradling her from behind, their bodies pushed flush against each other.
Her little feet only made their way midcalf to him. He wrapped an arm around her, forcing himself to be gentle.
Softly, carefully.
His mantra with her.
She sighed, scooting back further, and her arse was pushed against his cock. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood as he ruthlessly kept himself from making her uncomfortable. She'd seemed frightened the last time she'd felt him hard against her, and she didn't need that right now.
"Thank you for being here." She whispered softly.
"Always." He whispered back, her curls brushing against his face like a dozen small caresses.
The silence stretched, punctuated by her soft breaths. He thought she had fallen asleep until she spoke again.
"Talk to me, Harry."
"About what?" There was so much he couldn't tell 'ttell her.
Her shoulder moved in a small shrug. "About your life. About your childhood before you came to Hogwarts."
It had been years and years since he lived with muggles, and he'd been so young. But the memories were still sharp enough to cut— like they'd happened yesterday instead of more than a decade ago. The shrill screams and the sharp pains when he didn't duck a hit fast enough while he was with the Dursleys. It was strange, but as a child, he hadn't hated them. They were all he knew.
And then Voldemort came. Harry's hand squeezed her hip involuntarily.
He could still hear the dull thuds of the Dursleys' bodies hitting the floor after Voldemort had come.
He wasn't talking about that shit. He wouldn't ever tell her if he could help it.
With difficulty, he turned his mind toward happier memories — discarding the trauma and terror that had been his companions as he grew.
Harry breathed in deeply, centering himself, and wrapped his arm securely around her. "I grew up with Draco at Malfoy Manor. They're not my parents, but I'm very close with Lucius and Narcissa — Narcissa especially."
"Draco talked about them like they were your parents, too."
Every inhale was her scent. "We've become close after all these years; they look at me as family."
Shared trauma bound people together very tightly.
A part of himself couldn't help but analyze the situation he was in now through the lens of that experience. He was here, comforting Hermione in the aftermath of her trauma. This would bind her even more tightly to him.
He stroked his fingers along her forearm, enjoying the softness of her skin. "I'm actually distantly related to them —" He paused, continuing in a wry tone of voice. "Although most of the pureblood wizarding families are related in some way or another."
Hermione chuckled lightly. "I remember reading a genealogy book once — it was a bit shocking."
"I bet." Harry couldn't imagine reading a genealogy book, but wasn't surprised Hermione had. He'd always seen her with texts about the wizarding world, as if she felt she had to catch up on knowledge.
She waited a moment before probing again. "So you and Draco are like brothers?"
Harry made an affirmative sound. "We fought a lot, though, when I first came to live with them. I was very…." Feral. "…distrustful of them at first."
"Why?"
Why? Indeed.
Harry shrugged, not wanting to lie. "I was a distrustful child." Truth. "We fought a lot because of it. When we were seven, we stole the swords off an armory display and tried to skewer each other."
Hermione turned her head to look at him with wide, pretty brown eyes. "Were you hurt?"
"Not badly." Magic was a wonderful thing. Dittany fixed a lot of things right up. "That's when Narcissa decided we were going to have sword-fighting lessons because if we were going to skewer each other, we were going to do it properly."
Hermione gave a disbelieving laugh.
Harry gave her a crooked smile. "She doesn't have any patience for foolishness." They had enough problems with Voldemort making regular house calls.
"I guess not."
Hermione's breathing was slowing, her lashes drifting down. He kept quiet, still as a stone, as she drifted off to sleep. Her soft lips were slightly parted, making the faintest sound as she breathed. She was so beautiful.
It was enthralling to watch her sleep. When she was awake, the force of her personality was so present — her intelligence and determination practically burning in her eyes. But asleep, she seemed so much softer— so much more fragile.
And they'd hurt her.
Harry curled even closer, his face so close to hers their noses almost touched. He'd told her he wouldn't kill them. And it was disappointing that it couldn't be him.
But he comforted himself that it didn't matter how it was done — just that it was done. He remembered his other promise — she'd been so specific.
You won't torture Ron — at all — in any way that causes him pain or distress, even if he doesn't remember it.
So he hadn't. Draco had been more than eager to step into his place.
He wondered if the blood on his hands was the only kind that mattered to Hermione. Or if she was really that innocent. Regardless, honesty was very important between them. He would never go back on his word to her; it mattered to him that she had faith in him.
Harry smiled faintly, without humor, his eyes wandering over Hermione's sleeping face.
But still…. They had to die. If Harry couldn't strike the final blow, then he'd make sure someone else did.
He would never allow anyone who harmed her to escape unscathed.
OOOoooOOOoooOOOO
Hermione didn't want Harry killing anyone or avenging her.
Or at least that's what she told herself over and over as she in a bathroom stall for the fourth time that day, trying to rein in a panic attack. She clutched her hands together try to stop the trembling. She'd felt safe in Hogwarts— as stupid as that sounded with everything going on in the wider magical world — and considering everything going on at the school.
Still, at some level, she'd believed she could protect herself from threats. But the biggest threat had been the one she hadn't seen coming. Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm the strange tremors and her racing heart.
She pictured Harry, building his image in her mind from top to bottom. She started with his messy black hair. A lock usually fell over his forehead, hiding his scar, and it was always so tousled as if he'd just rolled from bed. The changing green of his eyes behind the round frames of his glasses. The fit of his shirts over his lean, muscular frame. She focused on how she felt with him.
Safe.
She wouldn't admit it to anyone — she could barely admit it to herself — but now she didn't feel completely safewithouthim. She knew he would be waiting for her as soon as class let out. It was her next class that was really worrying her, though.
Transfiguration.
She hadn't been this near to any of the people in that room since that night; in the Great Hall, she'd been able to keep her eyes averted from the head table. The thought of facing McGonagall again at such close range made her feel faintly ill.
She hated how helpless she'd felt when Dumbledore had held her still for the veritaserum, and McGonagall had just watched.
Hermione bent over, resting her forehead against her knees as she hugged herself, trying to calm down her stomach.
She stayed like that for a long moment, trying to calm down. She heard the bathroom door slam, and a group of girls entered, giggling and laughing. She waited until they had left to leave her stall and approach one of the sinks and splashed cold water on her face.
You are stronger than this, she told herself sternly. She sucked in a deep breath and stared into her reflection.
You are had told her.
She could almost hear him whispering it in her ear. Feel the warm timbre of his voice.
Hermione straightened her shoulders and marched back to class, waiting for it to let out. The minutes flew by too fast, and the snap of books closing almost made her flinch.
No more delays.
She walked outside to find Harry waiting for her. He reached for her bag as soon as she came close enough, and then laced his fingers with hers. His eyes examined her closely. "Everything okay?"
Hermione nodded wordlessly. He squeezed her fingers. The corridor to Transfiguration felt longer than usual, like the corridors were purposely stretching out her anxiety for that first interaction.
She could feel Harry's gaze on her, but didn't look at him, keeping her gaze focused on the stone floor. Which is why she let out a very undignified yelp as he pulled her into a little alcove.
The stones gave the illusion of privacy as students flowed past them in the corridors beyond. Harry lifted her chin so she would meet his eyes. "Are you afraid of her?" He asked, studying her.
Hermione shook her head — it wasn't fear exactly— but some amalgamation of so many emotions balled together that she could barely breathe.
"You don't have to go to her class if you don't want to."
"What?"
"We could leave."
Hermione shook her head, bewildered. "We can't leave— we have to go to class— "
"No." Harry's jaw tightened, his voice like steel. "We don't have to do anything."
"But but — the rules—"
Harry's lips twitched, humor stealing over his face for a brief moment before it hardened again. "Rules are for ordinary people, not the extraordinary. Not you." He brushed back a curl away from her face. "We could leave — just the two of us — walk out those double doors and live our lives."
Hermione realized he was completely serious and shook her head. "I want to finish school. I can do this."
Harry didn't move, staring into her eyes as if making sure she was serious before he backed off, and they continued to Transfiguration.
Hermione kept her gaze downward as they entered transfiguration, her shoulders tensing as she heard McGonagall starting class. As soon as she sat down, Padma reached for her hand under the table and squeezed it. Hermione looked over at her and saw the compassion on her friend's face.
I'm mouthed at her.
Hermione nodded quickly, blinking to clear her eyes. She didn't know what she would do without Harry and her friends. She had to hype herself up to look to the front of the class and see the woman who'd betrayed her. It felt like forever, but it was probably only a few minutes before Hermione looked up to the front of the class.
She met McGonagall's eyes.
McGonagall's face softened, her eyes apologizing to her. The moment seemed to stretch into eternity. All the memories she had of McGonagall flashed in her memory. She'd always looked up to her — she'd wanted to belikeher. A wordless apology meant nothing when she stood by while Hermione was violated like that. Then the moment passed, and McGonagall took a deep breath and pulled her professionalism back on.
Hermione stared at the blackboard, the words blurry.
She didn't know how she made it through the hour. She wanted to go back to her room and curl up under the blankets until she felt normal again. When class was over, relief hit her so hard she fumbled with her ink pot, dropping it on the floor.
"Mrs. Granger — could you stay for a moment? I'd like to talk to you."
Hermione didn't want to talk to McGonagall, but she didn't want to make a scene either. Everyone in the classroom left one by one— Carrow in the corner caught her eye — he seemed removed from the rest of the Slytherins who sat near Harry, Draco, and Theo. But he was surrounded by his own group as he left.
Finally, it was only Hermione, Harry, and Padma left in the classroom. Harry walked over to her, but Padma spoke to McGonagall first.
"I don't think she wants to talk to you." Padma faced McGonagall, her dark eyes flashing as Harry helped Hermione pack up her things.
"Miss Patil— "McGonagall began, her posture rigid as she stared at the three students who were left in the classroom.
Harry straightened, throwing a charming smile toward Padma, before all expression dropped off his face as he faced McGonagall. "You have a lot of practice standing aside, don't you, Professor?"
"What's that supposed to mean, Potter?" McGonagall asked angrily.
Harry ignored Hermione's hand tugging on him, his eyes fixed on McGonagall's. "It means that when it matters most — you don't act. Like when a baby is being given to the worst sort of Muggles imaginable." McGonagall flinched, and her face whitened.
"How did you—"
"Or when a young girl under your care is violated." Harry's voice snapped like a whip.
Both Hermione and Padma had frozen as they listened to Harry and McGonagall's exchange. But when Harry stood aside and motioned them out, they practically ran out the door in front of him, leaving McGonagall open-mouthed behind them.
Padma looked like she wasn't sure what to say first, but when she went to Hermione and gave her a brief hug. "Are you okay?"
Hermione swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah."
Padma was quiet for a moment before she nodded, accepting her answer. Then she turned to Harry as they started walking when he joined them. "I can't believe you told her that!" Padma glanced at Harry admiringly.
Hermione, however, had a quieter reaction, glancing at Harry speculatively. Weeks ago, Dumbledore had told her they knew the family they placed Harry with 'may not have treated him well.' But if Harry had been speaking about himself to McGonagall, they had known before they left Harry with his aunt that they were terrible people.
Her chest burned at the thought.
Harry looked at her curiously when she remained silent, his hand squeezing hers. "Are you mad at me?"
Hermione shook her head immediately. She dropped her gaze as Draco and Theo joined them, the conversation flying over her head as she came to terms with another reordering of her reality.
They had never been the good guys. They'd known the kind of people they were turning Harry over to — the worst sort.
The burning in her chest turned to fire. It didn't seem fair that they could do that to Harry and experience no consequences.
OOOoooOOOoooOOOO
Hermione leaned against the bleachers after classes, watching Harry at Quidditch practice. The sky was grey and cloudy, but she thought she felt happier than she had been in a long time. It still bothered her to be in McGonagall's class, but she didn't attempt to speak to her alone any longer. She knew the Order was probably watching her just like they had Harry. But sometimes — like today, that type thing felt far away.
Her notes were spread out in front of her, held securely to prevent them from blowing away in the breeze. Luna was a row below her, her white blond head bent over as her quill scratched excitedly at the parchment. Padma was next to her, also leaning back and watching the boys play.
"Do you think they're going to win?" Padma asked.
Hermione shot her a wry glance. "I don't doubt it — Harry wants this win very badly, and I don't think he will accept any other outcome."
Padma made an agreeing noise. "I told Parvati not to bet against them, but she's very loyal to her house."
The Slytherin versus Gryffindor game — the first of the Quidditch season was coming up very soon. Hermione and her friends had begun studying on the stands. Hermione knew Harry liked being able to look over and see her because he'd told her when he asked her to study there instead of their usual tree.
The wind was chilly, but they were bundled up and didn't mind.
Luna stopped writing and looked up with a sigh. "I always love watching Quidditch." Draco zoomed by in his chaser's uniform, and she waved enthusiastically. "It's like an aviary. Except with boys. A boy aviary." She said dreamily.
Padma laughed. "Proper fit in their uniforms, aren't they?"
In front of them, Harry banked sharply, his broom tilting at such a sharp angle it was amazing he didn't fall off. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. "I just hope no one gets hurt."
Padma knocked into Hermione's shoulder. "He's going to be fine, you're his good luck charm."
As if he heard them, Harry looked towards the stands, and even from a distance, Hermione caught his smile for her. He was gone a second later, his focus back on the game as he veered straight up into the clouds. "I think he's more my good luck charm."
Padma leaned against her supportively; she knew how much Hermione had struggled in the aftermath of leaving the Order. "I feel better now that he's with you, rather than you by yourself with that organization."
Hermione agreed. She opened her mouth to say as much when she caught a glimpse of green and silver diving back downward out of the clouds. Harry was barreling straight toward the ground. Her breath caught, and her heart leapt. Right before he would have smashed into the ground, he pulled up sharply, his arm held aloft to show the fluttering snitch he had captured.
Practice whistles blew.
Harry turned and looked at her, and she smiled widely in congratulations despite her heart still galloping in her chest. He blew her a kiss, and she blushed while Padma and Luna giggled.
"Me and Luna are going to start back," Padma told her with a mischievous smile.
They gathered their books, stood, and with warm smiles headed down the steps.
Harry appeared at the bleachers moments later, his hair wind-blown and uniform sweaty and dirty. He looked fabulous. He looked up, his green eyes finding her instantly, and his expression softened.
"That dive nearly stopped my heart, " She joked as he reached for her.
He laughed quietly, "I can't have that." He leaned a little bit closer to her, bringing up her hand between them and flipping it over so he could press a kiss to her inner wrist. Her heart jumped at the feel of his mouth against her skin.
"All better now?" he asked with a smile, his green eyes hot.
"All better." She agreed breathlessly.
Everything was better with him at her side.
OOOoooOOOoooOOOO
The night before the Quidditch game, the moon was high in the clear sky, shining brightly among the stars that looked like spotlights. The forest seemed to be a dark shadow on the landscape— looming before Harry and Hermione as they ran toward it. Despite the danger it represented, Hermione couldn't help but laugh as Harry pulled her along enthusiastically toward the tree line.
He glanced back at her with a smile, the moonlight catching the green of his eyes and giving them an animalistic gleam. The wind was so cold, it chafed against her cheeks, making them red, and breathing in sent shivers through her — but she couldn't stop her smile that was so wide it hurt.
They ran together through the dark forest, and she followed him eagerly until they broke through the trees to a wide open meadow. He led her to the center, letting go of her briefly to dig into the bag he'd brought with him and pulling out a thick blanket - he threw it into the air and caught it with his magic — and it floated downward slowly, perfectly spread out on the cold ground.
"Do you want a fire or warming charms?" He asked her, his smile not wavering.
Hermione thought for a moment, looking at the hushed beauty of the forest and the stars above. "Warming charms, I think."
Harry didn't just cast warming charms on her, which hit her with a blast of warm air - he cast them at the blanket on the ground too.
Hermione laughed, crouching down and touching the blanket, feeling the soft warmth. "Very thorough." She complimented, looking up at him.
He gave a small shrug, "Just making sure you're warm."
Harry settled on the blanket first, reaching to help her settle against him, between his legs. Hermione tensed when he pulled her back against his chest.
"Look at the stars." He whispered, his arms wrapping around her securely from behind.
It took a moment for her to relax, but the warmth and strength of his embrace slowly sucked all the tension from her muscles, and she leaned against him, looking upward. "It's beautiful."
"See what happens when you break a few rules?"
"I'll have you know I've broken rules before."
Harry gave an agreeable hum. "I remember at least one of those occasions."
Hermione smiled, her hands curling around his forearms as she stared up at the stars. "So how's this supposed to give you good luck for tomorrow's game?"
Harry squeezed her briefly. "Because I have my two favorite things— you and the stars. How could that not be lucky?" He pointed to a group of stars. "Orion. " He moved a bit over. "Draco." His arm dropped a little bit. "And you can just make out Virgo."
Hermione turned her head to glance at him. "That's my sign. I mean, I don't believe in that— but that's my sign."
"Do you know that Persephone is represented by Virgo in the sky?"
"What?" Hermione gave a disbelieving laugh.
"I know it struck me as strangely appropriate when you suggested the costumes. Almost like fate."
"I don't believe in fate."
Harry gave a small shrug. "Some things exist regardless of belief."
Hermione stared up at the constellation, turning his words over in her head. It was a strange bit of coincidence. "How do you know so much about this?" It hadn't been covered in their astronomy course, which focused mainly on how various planetary alignments and stars could affect magical power or potion brewing.
"Narcissa taught us— Draco and I. When we were small, our bedtime stories were always of the stars."
Hermione stilled at that. This was the second time Harry had brought up Narcissa to her. It seemed like he cared for her a great deal. "Narcissa?"
Harry nodded. "She would sit by a large window in the west wing of Malfoy Manor— it was big— almost as large as the window to the black lake in the dungeons. And she'd point out all the constellations to us throughout the year and tell us about them. She said that no matter what happened here on earth, the stars would still be there shining down."
Hermione was quiet for a moment, picturing that. It was hard to reconcile the woman she had seen in the Prophet next to Lucius Malfoy, teaching little boys about the constellations. Harry described someone who seemed gentle and patient with little boys who probably had trouble holding still.
"That sounds… very kind." She said, finally.
"It was," Harry said, staring up at the sky. "I think that's why I love being up there— amongst the stars."
Silence fell again as they watched the stars. Far off, there was the howl of something deep in the forest. But Hermione didn't feel frightened with Harry next to her.
"I'm glad you trusted me enough to come with me tonight." He said softly.
"Of course, I trust you. I just wish you didn't have so many secrets."
"It won't be forever… one day…" He shrugged. "You'll know everything. Maybe you won't trust me then."
Hermione turned so that she was facing him. Harry stayed leaning back on his hands, his legs spread out.
"I can't imagine not trusting you. You're the reason I've kept it together after everything that happened." She told him seriously.
Harry smiled. He reached out to cup her cheek. "I won't betray your trust. I swear it."
"I know. You're my friend."
Harry paused at that, considering her, before saying with deliberate insinuation. "I want to be more than your friend, Hermione."
Hermione could feel the blood rushing to her face. "I know." Hermione leaned into his palm. His hand was steady against her skin and warm, warmer than the warming charms he'd layered over them both. "I-I want that too."
"Do you?" He murmured, and his other hand cupped the back of her head, urging her closer.
She didn't answer with words, closing the distance between them eagerly instead.
Her hands slid up his chest to rest on his shoulders. Harry froze under her touch, watching her. And slowly, deliberately, she pressed her lips against his.
It was everything her first kiss wasn't— gentle and questioning.
You want me? Her lips asked his tentatively, the promise of something sweeter than the heat of their first two kisses.
Yes. He answered with his lips. His hold tightened, pulling her flush against him. Harry nibbled on her lips slowly and carefully, prompting her to open her mouth to him. Which she did with a gasp, her breath hitching.
But even when her mouth opened, he didn't rush the contact; his tongue slid into her mouth like a caress, foreign and gentle. The taste of him made her hands curl into his jumper.
His tongue moved against hers so slowly, the sensation making her heart jump in her chest. He held her so carefully while butterflies erupted in her stomach. The night was so cold, but against Harry it was hot— they'd created their own temperature just the two of them.
And it was perfect.
It was right.
She couldn't hear the forest anymore over her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as the kiss continued on, forever and forever. She couldn't breathe, and her world was just him and his mouth on hers. But that was okay, she thought as her tongue quested, tentatively exploring his mouth.
Harry moaned against her, and a tremor went through her whole body as the sound vibrated through her.
Her body tightened, warmth pooling in her belly, and she didn't pull away when she thought she was going to faint.
It was Harry who ended the kiss, breathing hard and leaning his forehead against hers. "I love kissing you." He admitted quietly.
She smiled too, pulling back to look into his eyes. "I love you kissing me."
He pulled her close again with a playful growl. "You're going to drive me mental, you know that, right? Saying these things to me."
Hermione laughed, leaning against him again, and looking up to the stars. But clouds had moved in, obscuring their view. "I guess the stars are hiding now," she said wistfully.
Harry raised his wand, "Notemstella."
"What —" But she stopped as sparks flew from his wand to hang in the sky like stars. It was Virgo, just like her. "How did you do that?"
"Narcissa taught me this one — she used it a lot when I was younger." Harry grabbed her hand, showing her the motion to cast the spell. "You just have to picture the constellation, and if your intent is clear, then you'll get your stars."
"They're beautiful," Hermione said, admiring the stars he'd created.
Harry smiled. "Go on, you try."
She took her wand, pointing it upward and remembering the motion he'd shown her. Leo. She thought. "Notemstella."
The sparks flew from her wand up in the sky — lower than real stars but just as bright as they hung there, depicting the lion constellation.
"Leo," Harry murmured, staring up at her stars. "You know that's—"
"I know." She said to look at him. According to the zodiac, Harry was a lion.
"You know the sorting hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor." He said, still staring up at her stars
"Really?" She couldn't imagine him in Gryffindor. He was too much a Slytherin with his secrets and plots.
"Mhmm."
The wind blew, and the temperature dropped further as the hour grew later. Hermione shivered, and Harry dropped his gaze from her stars to look at her. "We should get back inside."
Before he could move to start packing their things, she stopped him. "Thank you, Harry."
He tilted his head, looking at her. "I would think I should thank you— what would you thank me for?"
"For giving me the stars."
OOOoooOOOoooOOOO
The day of the Slytherin versus Gryffindor dawned even chillier than the day before — the sky was clear and so light grey it looked white, almost hurting the eyes. Slytherin banners snapped sharply in the wind, and the air smelled like ice and wood.
Hermione sat in the Slytherin stands surrounded by green and silver. She felt a little out of place, but was comforted that Padma and Luna had come with her. Padma was on her right, and next to her sat Theo. On her left was Luna, who had Pansy next to her.
The referee's whistle caught all their attention, and they stood up and cheered as the players flew into formation from the sidelines.
Hermione took off her coat to show the jumper she'd configured with Harry's name and number on it and cheered loudly.
As if he heard her, Harry zeroed in on her in the stands immediately and grinned at her. His grin widened even further when he saw what she was wearing. Then the whistle blew again, announcing the start of the game. Harry took off immediately, straight upward, before diving close to the Slytherin stands, while everyone screamed encouragement.
He winked at her as he zoomed past, and she couldn't help but smile.
A bludger zoomed past just a few seconds behind him, though, and Hermione gasped, leaning forward.
"Relax, " Theo said. "He knows what he's doing— they're always after him with bludgers."
As if on cue, Harry took a narrow dive, and the bludger rocketed past him harmlessly. The Gryffindor stands booed.
Next to her, Luna cheered as Draco brought the quaffle to the goal, getting it past the Gryffindor keeper, Ron Weasley. But Hermione could barely look away from Harry. She'd attended games for Ravenclaw perfunctorily to show house spirit, but she hadn't really paid attention like she was today.
She hadn't really grasped just how hard those bloody bludgers could hit. One of the Gryffindor chasers barely got clipped, and they went sprawling head over heels, flying through the air.
Hermione exhaled shakily, her hand pressed to her chest, while her eyes burned as she watched because she hadn't even blinked.
Pansy leaned her shoulder against Luna. "I know who you're watching." She teased Luna.
Luna didn't look away from the game. "I watch them all."
Padma leaned a bit forward so she could see Pansy," She says it's like watching an aviary— a boy aviary."
"But there are girls too." Theo protested.
"Mhmm. Pretty birds." Luna said, obviously not paying them attention.
Theo huffed. "Well, at least they're all equally objectified."
Padma patted his arm comfortingly. "Don't worry, you're my favorite bird."
Everyone jumped to their feet when Draco managed to make another goal past Weasley. Hermione had lost track of Harry and was looking all over when she noticed that a portion of the Slytherin students hadn't stood up to cheer their goal. And right in the center of that group was Pike Carrow.
Since he made himself known to her at the Halloween party, she'd been noticing him more and more in her classes and in the corridors of Hogwarts. He had a subtle, quiet menace to him — almost like Harry — but without Harry's charm.
Hermione wondered about him even though she knew Harry likely wouldn't tell her anything. What was the tension between the two boys about? Why did it seem like Pike was in opposition to Harry, even though they were all Slytherins and supposedly on the same side?
A glint in the sky caught Hermione's attention, drawing her gaze away from Carrow and his group of students. Harry seemed to materialize out of thin air, high up in the sky.
The Gryffindor beaters immediately yelled, pointing toward him. Harry was still for just a moment before his broom dipped, then began a spiraling dive, almost driving straight at the beaters.
Hermione's breath caught as it looked as if he was on a direct collision with two bludgers. But Harry's dodge was a smooth roll as he passed by in the few feet between the beaters. Loud and taunting laughter broke out on the Slytherin side.
The beaters did a big flip in the sky, circling back to corral their bludgers to go after Harry, who was speeding toward the Gryffindor hoops.
Another Slytherin chaser had the quaffle and was also heading toward the Gryffindor hoops. The Gryffindor seeker was hot on Harry's trail. It looked like the makings of a mass collision in the air as almost all the players sped quickly towards the Gryffindor hoops.
Hermione couldn't be sure how exactly it happened, even though she was watching closely. All she knew was one moment all the players were arrowing together, then suddenly — the quaffle, the two bludgers, and Ron Weasley were flying through the highest Gryffindor goal.
The bludgers had managed to catch Weasley in his upper chest and arm — spinning him violently backward off his broom and toward the hoop along the quaffle.
Theo yelled out, "Weasley should count as a score for us!"
The crowd around them laughed and began to shout, "Slytherin scored a Weasley! Ten more points! Slytherin scored a Weasley!"
Hermione winced when Weasley hit the ground. That had looked painful.
Draco zoomed by, lifting his hands as if encouraging the crowd to be louder. Luna waved at him enthusiastically.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle shrilly, cutting through the crowd's chants. Ron was lifted off the ground and carried off on a stretcher. The jeers mixed in with loud boos from the Gryffindor side.
Hermione found Harry high in the sky watching everything below, before his gaze turned to her.
For a moment, despite the distance, she could see him so clearly, and the noise around her faded. He grinned at her sharply, cocking an eyebrow as if he was asking her if she approved of his play.
He looked wicked fit in his Slytherin Quidditch uniform with the playful expression on his face. And he's mine, she thought wonderingly.
Win. She whispered to him. Harry tipped his broom in an unmistakable gesture of acknowledgement before spinning away as the play resumed.
The game resumed with angry ferocity. Gryffindor's replacement Keeper flew towards the Slytherin chasers, harassing them while the beaters on both teams struggled to control the bludgers.
Harry had vanished again, but there was a ripple of excitement through the crowd. Someone had spotted the snitch. The Gryffindor seeker was hurtling toward it.
"Harry," Hermione whispered to herself, half a prayer and half a warning, even though he couldn't hear her.
But maybe he did. Harry came out of nowhere, a silver and green blur cutting across the field at an impossible angle.
Hermione didn't even realize she was screaming encouragement, her eyes fixed on the seekers.
Harry slammed into the Gryffindor seeker, throwing her off course. A bludger flew by, missing both seekers. Both the Gryffindor and Slytherin stands were going wild, screaming.
The Gryffindor seeker couldn't recover from Harry's hit, spinning off course with a howl of protest. Harry's laughter floated down with the wind. He stretched towards the golden snitch.
Then the snitch seemed to vanish.
The crowd was still, everyone holding their breath — Had Harry caught it?
Then Harry shot towards the center of the field, fist clenched and held aloft. The golden snitch fluttering between his fingers.
The stadium exploded.
Green and silver erupted around Hermione, and she lost track of Luna and Padma as all the Slytherins ran towards the middle of the field.
"Sssslytherin wins!" Hissed the commentator in a booming affectation.
Hermione barely heard it, her heart pounding as she ran along with everyone else toward Harry.
He grinned at her and held out his arms, and she jumped into them. Harry caught her easily, lifting her higher before letting her slide down along his body.
Hermione laughed breathless and exhilarated, her fist clenched into his jersey. She still didn't know if she liked Quidditch — it was dangerous as hell, and she preferred her Harry whole and unhurt — but it had been very exciting.
"You absolute menace." She said in a low yell to be heard over the crowd.
"You asked me to win."
She couldn't stop herself, she went on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his— the crowd around them broke into even more raucous yells. Harry leaned into her kiss, one hand coming up to anchor her to him as he dipped her back, spinning her slightly. The kiss was charged and exciting, and when they parted, his grin was triumphant.
The crowd began moving towards Hogwarts to continue celebrating in the Slytherin common room. Hermione looked around, trying to see if Padma and Luna were being pulled along too. But instead, her gaze met Carrow's cold black gaze.
His gaze was flat and emotionless, and all the more threatening for his complete lack of emotion. Like staring at a snake.
A shiver went down her spine.
OOOoooOOOoooOOOO
In hindsight, Hermione supposed she should have expected another confrontation—but she hadn't. Between her friends and Harry's, Hermione was almost never alone. Wednesday afternoon just happened to be one of those rare exceptions.
Now, Hermione spent her revision time in the stands of the Quidditch field while Harry practiced. But since she needed to do some research for once she wasn't in the stands. Even Luna and Padma, who were also almost always by her side, were also off on their own. Luna had been feeling poorly and so went to bed very early, while Padma had gone off with Theo to do things that Hermione tried very hard not to have any knowledge of.
That left Hermione where she was currently. Deep in the stacks of the Hogwarts library, alone, looking up obscure references to the negotiation tactics of the Northern Giants for Magical History. She didn't know why she bothered — Binn's gave every assignment the same marks.
Even if the turned-in work was a blank page, which students had naturally tested in first year. Still, Hermione diligently tried her best with the assignments. With a huff, she pulled out a historical reference that seemed to weigh five stone. With an annoyed grunt, she set the book as gently as she could on the floor, deciding to look up the information there instead of dragging it back to her table so she could put it back easily.
Hermione was diligently taking notes when a long shadow fell over her, and she looked up to find Dumbledore standing over her. His robes were as loudly garish as ever, and he had that gentle twinkle in his blue eyes — but Hermione was no longer fooled.
He was dangerous— and more specifically a danger to her— she still hadn't forgotten the tight grip of his magic keeping her mouth open while she choked on Veritaserum. A tremor ran through her, and she clenched her fists, trying to keep from betraying how badly frightened she was to be alone with him.
"Miss Granger." He said genially as if it were some fantastic coincidence that he had stumbled upon her alone.
"Sir." She didn't move; her wand was burning against her side, and her fingers itched to draw it. Not that it would help — she had no illusions that she could defend herself if Dumbledore chose to draw on her. The realization was very, very bitter.
"I've been meaning to talk to you since our unfortunate last meeting."
Unfortunate last meeting. Is that how he thought of it? Holding her captive and forcing a potion down her throat? Her heart pounded so heavily in her ribcage that it felt like it was beating against her bones. Her mouth was dry, and she said nothing in response.
Dumbledore waited a moment longer before continuing. " I wanted to talk to you and see if you'd changed your mind about leaving the order."
The first impulse she had was to laugh wildly— it almost made it out, and her lips twitched before the mad amusement died, and she stared at him in disbelief. "I'm never ever going back."
Dumbledore sighed, dropping his gaze. "There are things that happen when you're fighting darkness, my dear— you can lose track of the light. I think you are one of those lights that can help us achieve our goals. Why look at what you've already done for young Potter. He's smiled more in the past few weeks than he has in the past few years at Hogwarts."
Hermione almost felt like she was dissociating from herself as she listened to him. Was he mad? She'd always thought his strange statements were more of a playful affectation, but this was completely mental.
"I'm not going to help you use him." She said quietly. Her voice was even despite the tremor in her hands.
A flicker of some emotion passed quickly in those light blue eyes — anger or irritation— but the genial mask never quite slipped. "There's a price to be paid for safety, Miss Granger —"
Hermione's hands fisted in her lap as she stared up at him. A part of her wanted to stand up to him, to not be at such a disadvantage, but the rush of goosebumps going up her back wanted her to run away. Now.
"You don't get to decide who pays the price — that's where you're wrong. You have your goal, and you don't care what means you use to get there."
Dumbledore stared at her silently for a moment. "What would you do to keep your parents safe, Miss Granger?"
Her heart was rattling in her chest, and she struggled to keep her breathing even as fear shot through her. "Was that a threat?"
Dumbledore looked astonished — and it looked genuine, but she no longer trusted the show he put on. "Oh dear, my child, I would never."
"You're a liar." She told him quietly, her voice shaking despite her best efforts. She hated that it made her sound weak. "You drugged me. You restrained me. You hurt me because it was convenient— and now you're asking me to come back as if it didn't happen. Just like you go around trying my mental defenses and pretend you don't."
Her breathing was harsh in the silence that followed while Dumbledore looked completely unfazed. The silence deepened until the sounds around them — the faint shifting of books and paper — the even fainter scratch of quills could be heard. Ordinary sounds that made the confrontation happening even more mad.
"You may be upset at the Order's methods, but you know our goal. Our beliefs. Can you say the same for young Potter? What was it you said when you first reported to me — ah, yes — how he thinks all muggles are dangerous — one wonders what he would do if he thought your parents were a danger to himself or even you." Dumbledore paused, a sharp glint of knowledge in his eyes. "I think you and I both know the answer to that."
"You're wrong."
Dumbledore shook his head. "You and all muggleborns are safer because of the Order — and not anything Potter has done."
"My experiences say differently." She didn't even bother putting the book back, standing up and grabbing her things, leaving the ridiculously large tome in the middle of the aisle with Dumbledore standing over it. He could put it back himself.
She expected him to argue with her further, to try to stop her, but he didn't. He stood there with the mask on his face — the twinkle in his eyes that said he knew more than she did, and the slightly upturned lips. But the twinkle didn't hide the coldness that lay beyond that fake mask.
It niggled at her for a second; she'd seen that cold blankness before…
The name came to her as she rushed off, leaving Dumbledore watching in silence.
It reminded her of Pike Carrow.
Hermione brushed off questions about her mood after the Dumbledore confrontation by saying she wasn't feeling well, like Luna. But internally, she was grappling with a realization that she had to let go of some of her principles. A part of her had always wanted to be a champion for good, to make the world a better place.
She valued doing the right thing, even if it was hard.
If you had asked her even six months ago if there was any chance of Dumbledore or McGonagall or any of the people in the headmaster's room (perhaps with the exception of Moody, he'd always been off) hurting her, she would have laughed herself silly.
But now she was struggling to see who exactly was the good guy. That perhaps …. Her idea of what it meant to be the good guys existed only in her head and in fiction. And in reality, there were only many, many shades of grey. You just had to pick the shade of grey you could live with.
The one thing she did know was that she was no longer going to inhibit herself from her practices with Harry. She'd need years of training to be able to stand against Dumbledore and win— but she could learn enough to make him hurt if he came after her.
In the quiet darkness before dawn, she'd even wondered about Harry's offer to take care of it for her. On its face, the idea seemed ludicrous that a seventeen-year-old boy could promise with such conviction that he could bring the Order down — murder them all. But it was Harry's very conviction that made Hermione believe him.
It would be a relief to let the burden fall into his hands — to never have her stomach twist when she faced them again. To not worry about who might find her alone in the stacks of the Hogwarts Library.
These were the thoughts spinning in her head when she joined Harry for tutoring. She placed her book bag down, then went to him and grasped the hand he held out to her. He caught her hand and pulled her close, his eyes studying her intently.
"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"
Hermione shrugged. "I've just been thinking."
"About?"
"I— " She stopped straightening her shoulders and looking up into his eyes. "I want to learn to use unforgivables.'
She didn't know what she expected when she told Harry that — but hesitation was not it. Silence pooled between them with her words, and she felt him brush against her mind. "Why?" He asked eventually.
"You were right." Stupidly, she felt tears prick her eyes at the admission. "There's no place for mercy when you're facing the merciless."
Harry's hand came around her, cupping the back of her head as if to brace her. "I can be merciless, so you don't have to, Hermione. I'll do it for you."
He was offering to do the dirty work so she didn't have to. And she loved him for it—
The thought was like an electric shock through her system, and she jerked slightly. It was too soon for a thought like that, yet it felt right. She did love the boy who gave her the stars and swore never to betray her trust. Who casually tortured other students and wanted to murder people who had harmed her.
She loved him.
Harry must have thought she was shocked at his offer because he continued trying to persuade her. "I mean it, Hermione." He said his green eyes glittered with intensity. "You don't have to compromise your ideals — your morals. You don't have to cross any lines you don't want to — I'll cross them for you — I already have."
If she hadn't just realized she was in love with him, that would have made her fall all over again. She leaned forward and laid her hand against his cheek tenderly. "I'm not going to shove off all the responsibility onto your shoulders while I pretend I'm above it all. I want to protect you, too. I want to defend you, too. I don't want to stand behind you, Harry, I want to be beside you."
He licked his lips, watching her like he was dying of thirst and she was an oasis. "I do want you beside me."
"Then teach me."
"I will." He promised, leaning down to press his lips to hers. His hands roamed her body, pressing her close to him. The kiss was hot and wet, sending heat surging through her lower belly as she pressed her thighs together.
Each kiss they shared was better than the last. More knowing. More intimate. It didn't frighten her anymore to feel him pressing hard against her.
Instead, it left her curious and wanting.
They pulled away at the same time, both breathing rapidly. Harry leaned his forehead against hers for a minute, closing his eyes. His hands dropped to her waist, keeping her next to him. "We need to concentrate on the lesson." He murmured as if trying to remind himself.
"What if I can't do it?"
Harry frowned, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
"What if I can't cast the unforgivables?"
"Anyone is capable with the right training— and I can give you that. The intent and power come from your emotions and your ability to direct them where you need them."
"I'm going to make a magical construct so we can test the effectiveness of your spells. Once you pass that, then we'll take the next step of using them."
"I'm not going to kill someone for practice, " She said a little uneasily with how blasé Harry spoke of using unforgivables.
"Of course not," Harry said comfortably. "We're far from that stage yet."
"How do we start then?" Hermione asked.
"The imperious curse. We don't need the construct for testing out that one, as we can do it ourselves."
"Ourselves?" Hermione asked, trying not to sound intimidated. All the unforgivable curses were terrible, but the idea of having your willpower taken away was particularly heinous.
"Mhmm." Harry stepped around her, guiding her wand hand up and tracing the motion for the spell. "Imperio." He whispered against her ear, and she resisted shivering at the sensation and the trepidation she felt.
"Haven't you ever wanted to be able to control someone? To make them do something … or stop them from doing something?"
Too many incidents came to mind— Harry walking away from her in the corridor after the Halloween party. Stopping Moody from touching her. So many times, she had been frightened or angry because of someone else's actions.
Harry stepped in front of her, against her wand. "Now take those feelings and cast it."
"On you? I couldn't—"
"You can." He looked over at their bags. "Make me go pick up your bag."
"But—"
"This is how you learn. You practice with friends first until you can't anymore— if you have the conviction to cast on me — you'll have the conviction to go against your enemies. Unless…" He stopped letting the words hang for a moment. "You want to change your mind."
"No." Determination filled her. She could do this. "Imperio." Her magic splashed out weakly against Harry's chest; it felt like trying to grab water in her fist.
"That's good."
Hermione frowned. "No, it wasn't."
Harry smiled. "Don't be hard on yourself — the imperious is as difficult as the others— maybe more so. After that, the others will be easier."
"Why would the imperious curse be more difficult? I would think the… " She cleared her throat. "The killing curse would be the hardest."
"For the killing curse and the cruciatus, the length of time you need to keep your focus is shorter — the imperious requires the most sustained effort to maintain — to subvert the will of another."
Hermione looked away from him. "I don't know if I want to subvert your will."
"That's where the error is — you have to stop thinking of me — you have to focus on your emotions to strengthen your intent. Pick one instance where you wanted to make someone do something — even better if that someone wasn't me — and practice redirecting that intent towards me."
Moody's face sprang immediately to mind along with a rush of adrenaline. She hated it when he approached her, and the sound of his wooden leg dragging on the floor made her skin crawl. "Okay."
"Keep that thought in the front of your mind and cast again." Harry directed.
The feelings coalesced inside her as she tried again, "Imperio."
Her magic shot out, hitting Harry in the chest, and she felt the difference— his magic was like clay in her hand that she could mold. Pick up my bag. She twisted the clay in her mind, trying to push him toward her bag — Harry took one step — and the shock of him actually obeying made her lose focus — the clay becoming water and the control flowing through her hands again as she tried to grasp it back.
Harry turned to her with a big smile. "That was great!"
Hermione frowned. "I barely got you to go a step before I lost control."
"Draco can't even get me to go a step. He's the worst at the imperious."
"I guess that makes me feel a bit better."
"It should— he's one of the best."
Hermione tucked a curl behind her ear, straightening her uniform. "You two are really close, aren't you?"
"Mhmm." Harry didn't elaborate, but she saw the way his green eyes darkened and didn't push. She was getting better at reading him, she thought. Or maybe she just hoped.
Instead, she changed the subject. "So what do you mean by a magical construct? What kind of object is it?"
"You can enchant silver to display the effectiveness of the spells it absorbs. I think I have enough — if not, I can ask Narcissa to send me more."
Another thing to read about. She'd never heard of such magical constructs. She wondered what that would even be under in the library — probably charms.
"It probably wouldn't be in the library." Harry broke into her thoughts. He paused. "Maybe the restricted section."
"How did you know I was thinking—"
"You always have the same look on your face when you think of the library."
Hermione could feel herself blushing. "What kind of look?!"
"Eagerness with a bit of anticipation." He said with a teasing smile.
Hermione frowned. "If it's not in the library, how do you know how to make it?"
"Lucius taught me — it's used mostly by magical law enforcement to train new Aurors."
Minister of Magic Lucius Malfoy. The same Lucius Malfoy who pushed anti-Muggleborn legislation in the Ministry. Hermione looked away so he wouldn't read her face and went to her books. "You care for Lucius, too?"
When Harry didn't respond, she finally looked over to him. He hadn't moved from the center of the room.
"It's complicated. He's taught me a lot. Magic. Politics. How soft power works when you stop pretending it's about ideals."
"Soft power… like persuading people to your side?"
"Yes."
"The legislation he's passed — the legislation he's still pushing has hurt people like me." She said, her voice even.
"I know," Harry said. "I don't agree with it."
Hermione exhaled a breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding. "You don't?"
"No." He left the answer hanging there, not filling in the demanding silence that followed. The silence that begged for an explanation. His fingers flexed at his sides as if he struggled with what to say to such a complicated topic for him.
Hermione turned her back on him, walking towards their bags and pulling hers up on her shoulder. "I don't want to become something I can't recognize, Harry." She said, staring blindly down at his bag.
"I think it's naive to think we remain the same. The world forces us to change in order to survive." He replied, taking her bag from her shoulder, and picking up his own before lacing his fingers in hers and leading her back to the Ravenclaw rooms.
Hermione was quiet as she followed him back. She reflected on his words and what had happened during the tutoring session.
Whenever Harry spoke of his beliefs, there was always a persuasive element in the way he phrased things. His logic resonated with her and made her question her own beliefs. Maybe it was the soft power he said he had learned from Lucius Malfoy. Hermione turned to look at him, standing in the middle of the corridor with his shoulders back. He made no excuses for his behavior or his choices.
Harry was such a tantalizing shade of grey.