Part 20
There was a certain air of anticipation all over Hogwarts during the rest of the week. While Healer Williams kept Harry entertained with daily reports about the translation work he was doing with the snakelings, Sirius was trying to alleviate Harry's nervousness by informing him about Gringotts', and thus the world's, latest news.
As a consequence, nothing in the papers fazed Harry very much, which in turn afforded him the reputation of being something of a cool cucumber. It made him rather attractive to the first and second years, who didn't quite know how to deal with the new, rampant activism in the school.
And just as Hermione had predicted, the ICW was furious about Dumbledore's actions regarding the vote of no confidence, which had brought the topic of Peter Pettigrew firmly into the spotlight. After all the excitement about Voldemort's defeat twelve years before it was a given that any new developments would be snapped up ... and once the feeding frenzy had begun, there was no stopping it.
The whole Sirius Black case had truly been blown wide open and reporters from all over the world were besiegeing the British Ministry of Magic with requests for information. Many of those requests were also posted as open letters in large publications, which shed a very poor light on the British Ministry of Magic. And of course the Daily Prophet's reporters were foaming at the mouth about the Ministry's persisting gag order.
"It's so bloody stupid," Lavender hissed after flipping through Harry's Friday edition of the Wizarding International Times. "The whole flipping world is reporting about this, but my mum can't write a single word about it! She's lost hundreds of galleons, for sure!"
"Can't she sue for reparations?" Hermione asked. "I mean, it's very clear that the Minister is hampering her ability to make a living, and since reporters for the Daily Prophet are only paid a low base salary for getting dibs on important government stuff, she should have grounds. Everybody at the Prophet should. The whole 'added money for actual words written and percentage of the copies sold' doesn't mean much when no one's buying because nothing interesting gets printed."
"Who says it's not interesting?" Ron snapped irritably. "You don't know how well the Prophet sells."
"Actually, I do, because Lavender tells us regularly just how bad it has become since the whole thing started. I also asked for a copy of Lavender's mum's contract to get a feel for what's fair to offer the Herald's contract workers," Hermione sniped back. "I also read and made sure I understood all the laws concerning the press in Magical Britain, Ronald, because that's what you do when you found a newspaper with the intention of making it a real business."
"And I assure you that we do, Ronald," Lavender growled when Ron opened his mouth to protest further. She turned to Hermione. "Would it really be worth it to involve a lawyer?"
"Depends on how afraid your mum and her colleagues are of losing their jobs," Hermione said. "In my opinion they've got nothing to lose, since several of the best stories of the century have already been spoiled thanks to Fudge's gag order."
"A lot of them have worked freelance already to make a living though ... wouldn't that count as normal income?" Parvati wondered. "And I looked, that gag order is legal enough, unfortunately."
"Not if it's intended to hush up criminal activity within the Ministry, but that is a subject for an actual investigation, really," Hermione said with an apologetic little shrug. "I bet you could still sue as far as the Prophet is concerned. If nothing else, it'd lit another fire under Fuge's arse, because the owner will surely want the Ministry's support. A lawsuit would make a lot of people ask very uncomfortable questions, including the ICW."
"No rabble-rousing at Hogwarts, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall admonished lightly. To Lavender she said, "But it's worth a try. Gringotts offers the services of excellent law witches and wizards who specialize in business law. I'd imagine that the current ... unrest would prompt them to offer services at a slightly reduced cost."
"Thank you, ma'am," Lavender said with a smile.
"Can we help you with something, Professor?" Neville asked.
McGonagall eyed the group sternly through her glasses. "You can, in fact. Due to the dementors' presence around the school grounds, all outdoor activities have been suspended, and therefore the faculty has decided to offer a number of indoor games to make up for that loss."
Everyone at the table gave her their undivided attention at that.
"The games will both offer entertainment and opportunities to win course credit and house points and will take place all through November and December," Professor McGonagall explained. "This will be your chance to suggest games and riddles to the faculty to enrich the experience for everyone. I have already placed a box in the common room and will empty it each night. Every suggestion that is chosen will be rewarded with five house points."
"We'll so win that race!" Fred and George shouted.
Professor McGonagall handed out sheets of cheap paper for everybody to start brainstorming and bade them goodbye right afterwards, leaving them to their enthusiasm.
"I don't think that was a very good idea, right before class," Hermione murmured as they watched Fred and George confer with Lee Jordan and scribble furiously on the paper. One was already full and the next one was filling up rapidly. "But I guess that it takes everyone's mind off the news." She bit her lip and worried it for a moment. "I can't believe they're holding out to wait for me."
"It's important," Harry said carefully, making sure to be as vague as possible. "It's our compromise. Don't question it, okay? It's nearly done, anyway."
"I know. Sorry. I'm just ... worried."
"What about?" Ron asked sharply. He leaned over the table and stared at them. "You're having secrets, I wanna know what it is."
"Oh, shove off, Ronald. As if we'd trust you with anything right now," Hermione huffed. "Are you finished with breakfast, Harry?"
Harry was, and they lost no time getting away from the Great Hall for a bit of a snog before class.
During Defence Lupin kept giving Harry searching looks, and at the end of it he almost seemed to want to keep Harry back, but refrained. Instead, Harry got a small nod that said nothing and yet conveyed so much that for the first time in ages Harry decided to pay no mind to Professor Flitwick's lecture and write to Sirius instead. It was risky as hell, but Harry simply couldn't wait. It was too important to his new father, and therefore it was important to him.
Does Professor Lupin know?, he wrote, the journal half hidden underneath his parchment and book. That you've got Pettigrew?
He does, pup, Sirius answered. He got an owl through Gringotts' mail ward; if you know anything about how good they are, you know I had to honour his effort. We swore that we'd always give each other a chance to explain, and he did. He knows everything now.
Does that mean things are alright between you now?, Harry asked, a little apprehensive and wondering where that left him, if that was the case.
Heck, no. A little bit of rueful amusement came through Sirius' words, the magic lightly touching Harry's fingers. Just because we now know that the other wasn't a traitor doesn't erase the last ten years. We'll need a lot of time to really be okay with each other again. But we will try. I want Remus back in my life. I just hope that's alright with you.
Harry didn't know what to say to that, other than, Of course.
You needn't be afraid that he'll replace you or some such rubbish, Sirius went on, as usual guessing exactly what was going on in Harry's mind. Remus knew from the moment you were born that you would always be my first priority. After what happened with Pettigrew and Voldemort, there's not a chance in hell I'll give you up to mend fences with him. He knows that, too.
Harry released a breath he didn't know he'd held back. I do want him to be your friend, though.
You're a better person than many, baby. Sirius' magic kind of stretched and wrapped around Harry's fingertips. The feeling was like a miniature hug, and a much needed one at that. We'll all work it out together. A little painted dog appeared on the page. We'll talk soon; better start paying attention to Professor Flitwick again. We both know that you can do the spell already, you shouldn't let him wait.
I want Hermione to do it first. She's looking forward to the extra assignment, Harry scribbled, chancing a glance at Hermione next to him.
Don't you dare, Harry James, Sirius wrote immediately. If you can do it, you'll demonstrate it and get the reward. Be kind to Hermione in private, but don't let your regard for her lessen your academic accomplishments. I'm pretty certain that she wouldn't thank you for it anyway. She's ambitious, she will want to make her own way.
But people are already looking at me strangely, Harry countered. They'll hate me if I'm the first to do the spell, again.
So what. It's your talent, it's only right that you explore and train it.
Will you be very disappointed if I don't?, Harry asked.
Yes, Sirius answered baldly. Worse, one day you'll be disappointed in yourself. Let me tell you from my own experience that regret is ugly, especially when it's about something you didn't do. Regret a bad tattoo for all I care, or pulling that prank that earned you a whole term of detentions, but please don't ever regret not stretching your magical wings. Your mother would be so sad to see you make yourself so small. She was brilliant, you know, and expected everyone else to find their brilliance, too.
It was something new about his mother and Harry cherished the information despite Sirius' gentle rebuke.
Did she like being brilliant?, he wondered.
Very much. The whole world was an adventure, especially since she was muggle-born, Sirius replied, his writing going soft and a little sad. Go now, Harry. Earn yourself the points and the credits, and invite Hermione along for the extra credit, if it makes you both happy.
You're pretty brilliant, too, Harry scribbled quickly. That's a great idea! I'll talk to you later.
He closed the journal, sat up straight and proceeded to follow Professor Flitwick's lecture until the man finished class by asking whether anyone wanted to attempt the general counter-charm already.
"I do," Harry said once it became obvious that no one else wanted a go just yet.
A few Ravenclaws muttered and groaned and Zabini threw Harry a droll look.
"Mr. Potter! Certainly! Please step forward so everyone will be able to see." Flitwick waved him down from his raised seat. "Now, this attempt won't exclude you from future opportunities, should it be unsuccessful, so just relax."
Ron snorted loudly. "Why would he get more than one chance? It's his own fault if he wants to jump off the broom so soon."
"Are you planning on spending further time in the evenings with your head of house, Mr. Weasley?" Professor Flitwick countered Ron's question, both eyebrows raised. "If not, please refrain from questioning my teaching methods." He turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, this is how it'll go: I'll send three different charms your way, and it is your job to use the general counter-charm to end their effects. I know that your first instinct might be to use Finite Incantatem - should that happen, we'll just try again. Ready?"
Nodding, Harry let his holly wand glide into his hand.
"Avis!" Professor Flitwick cried, and a flock of birds erupted from the tip of his wand.
Harry aimed at the wildly racing birds and shouted, "Discedat magicae!"
A beam of reddish light burst from his wand, enveloped the birds and caused them to wink out in a swirl of magic.
"Fantastic!" Professor Flitwick hopped up and down excitedly and then animated his stool to dance a jig. "This is fun!"
Harry could only agree - and feel quite sheepish when not only did the stool stop dancing, but fell apart altogether when his counter-charm hit it.
"Oh dear, I forgot how often this thing has been repaired," Flitwick said, waving Harry's stunned apology away. Around them, the class was laughing loudly. "Should have thought about that, really. Er, yes, this should be safe to do ..." He changed the colour of his hat from taupe to a violent green. "Last one, Mr. Potter!"
After two successful castings, this one came easily to Harry in a way that defied his comprehension. The magic flowed through Harry's arm and into his wand before it reached out and grasped the hat to manipulate the colour back to its original state. It was an astoundingly rich experience, almost as if Harry had touched the hat himself with his fingertips and explored it from the tip to the brim until nothing remained hidden and all traces of Professor Flitwick's changes had been reversed.
He took a deep breath when the hat had returned to its modest taupe colour and put his wand back into its holster. "Um, done, sir."
"Splendid!" Professor Flitwick started to applaud, the class following suit. Even a few of the Slytherins gave a couple of grudging claps. "That was an outstanding performance, Mr. Potter! Take fifty points and choose your reward."
"Free time, Potter, not bad," Pansy Parkinson sneered. "I wonder what you'll do with it. Probably try to sneak that horrendous hippogriff off the grounds or some such."
"Actually, I'd like the project for extra credits, Professor," Harry said, eyes firmly on Flitwick.
Half the students groaned in dismay, even Dean and Seamus, but Neville, Padma, and even Zabini all grinned at him and showed him the thumbs up. Harry knew it was cowardly, but he took care not to look at Hermione just then.
"Very well. Go on with the others now, Mr. Potter," Professor Flitwick said as the bell rang. "We'll find time to discuss the assignment later. Again, very well done, my dear boy, very well done indeed." The man's eyes misted a little and he smiled. "Reminded me of your mother, if I'm at all honest, and not just a bit. She was a marvel in my class. It eases my heart to know that her talent seems to live on in her child."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said softly.
On their way to lunch, Hermione was quiet, and she didn't ask any questions while they ate, but afterwards, as they were taking a short walk in the mild October sunlight, she broached the topic.
"I'm not surprised that you managed to do it so soon," she said, looking down the gentle hill at Hagrid's hut. "But I wonder when you had time to practice."
"I did it on Tuesday and last night, while you were in the library. Are you angry?" Harry asked, worried. "I should have told you."
Hermione sighed, visibly working through whatever was on her mind. "Harry, of course I'm not angry," she said at last. "I'd have liked to know that you had mastered the charm, that's all. It's a huge accomplishment; you do know that students usually master that spell at the end of third year, if not the beginning of fourth."
"I'm sorry. I wasn't going to do it today," Harry confessed. "I wanted to wait until we had time to practice together."
"Harry ..." Hermione studied him for a moment, her expression one of gentle surprise. "That's very sweet. Please don't misunderstand, but ... what made you change your mind?"
"Sirius did," he admitted. "He said I shouldn't slow myself down because of ... this sounds bad, but he didn't mean it that way. He, er, he said that I should be kind to you in private, but to not compromise school to make you happy. Something like that. I'm sorry."
Hermione huffed. "That man. He's right, you know. You shouldn't hold yourself back for anyone's sake except your own. You don't have to apologize. I mean it."
"I wanted to wait for you," Harry repeated. "Maybe share the reward."
"That would've been great, but Gryffindor won the points regardless of who of us managed first, and I'm confident that you'll let me do the assignment alongside you." Hermione nudged his shoulder with hers. "It's a little strange not to be the quickest student anymore, that's all. If I'm a little sharp about it, I apologize in advance. I'll get used to it, I promise."
"You're still the smartest witch at school," Harry said earnestly. "I just get spells and charms quickly."
"You don't have to diminish your accomplishment to soothe my wounded pride ... which isn't wounded at all, just so you know," Hermione promised and kissed his cheek. "I'm proud of you, honest. You're a very good student when you take an interest."
"I'll probably try and talk Professor Flitwick in letting us both do the assignment together," Harry said and nearly laughed at the happy sparkle in Hermione's eyes. "I mean, we've both got good grades anyway and I don't mind sharing if you don't."
"You're a horribly nice boyfriend," Hermione told him. "Horribly nice. I'll never catch up at this rate. I'm very sorry if you thought that I would be angry with you."
"Not angry," Harry hedged. "More like ... disappointed that I showed you up."
"That's even worse." Hermione slipped an arm around Harry and snuggled into him. "You don't ever have to apologize for being good at doing magic. After all, you're a wizard!"
"You know, that's what Hagrid told me when he found me on that island the summer before first year: you're a wizard, Harry," Harry said. "He was so happy about it."
"I hope you are, too, despite everything that's going on," Hermione murmured. "Magic might be great, but some magical people definitely aren't."
oOo
Reassured by Hermione's words, Harry had a great History lesson with Mr. Irvine. Fifteen minutes before class let out, the tutor removed a letter from his inner robe pocket and showed it to Harry.
"This is from Gringotts, more specifically from Chief Ragnok himself," Mr. Irvine said. His gaze was steady on Harry. "Do you have an idea why I'm telling you this?"
"Er, no?" Harry said, bemused. "I mean, maybe it's because Ragnok is the chief of his people, that's like a king, right? It might be rare for him to send a personal letter."
"Very good, Mr. Potter." Mr. Irvine placed the letter onto Harry's desk. On the parchment, Irvine's name and address was carefully written out in elegant cursive letters. "During the last decade, Chief Ragnok has sent exactly five personal letters to non-goblins. This is the latest, as far as I know."
"Wow." Harry frowned, clenching his hands to worried fists. "It's not bad news, or is it?"
"No, Mr. Potter. It's not bad news at all. In fact, you may open and read it. It was sent to me, but it very much concerns you. Please," Mr. Irvine insisted mildly when Harry hesitated.
With a feeling of apprehension, Harry carefully opened the folded missive. Inside, that same elegant script flowed over the page.
From The Personal Desk Of Chief Ragnok, Eabran
October 24th, 1993
Esteemed Professor Irvine,
It has come to my attention that you are instructing Heir Harry James Potter in Magical History. As Hogwarts' schooling has been subpar for decades, and Heir Potter is a Friend to the Nation, I, Ragnok the Third, have decided to offer Heir Potter, as well as yourself, the unique opportunity to learn about my people, from and with my people, to round out your undoubtedly already thorough lessons.
Please extend this offer to Heir Potter and his father, Lord Sirius Black, and send a timely response to my Personal Desk so tutoring may be arranged.
May your wit and knowledge always earn you a satisfying living,
Chief Ragnok the Third, Son of Ulquart The Destroyer and Slowkill the Sly
Ruler Supreme Over All Goblins In All Worlds
Magical Guardian of Eabran
"Er, wow," Harry said lamely.
"Wow indeed." Mr. Irvine's tone was a little dry. "Your father failed to mention that you are Friend to the Nation, Mr. Potter."
"Uhm, why would that be important?"
Mr. Irvine sighed. "Fair point. It wasn't, until now, but I'd certainly have liked to know to be in the presence of one, especially one so young. It'd have influenced my curriculum, you see."
Harry hesitated. "Chief Ragnok called you 'Professor' in the letter ... Sirius hasn't told me a lot about you. You're not the world's best professor, are you? I'd feel bad if he stole you from your university or something."
"Not the world's best, no," Irvine snorted, "but I'm quite well-known in the Americas. Lord Black's offer was ... enticing, however, and I do not regret taking a sabbatical to teach you." He leaned back against his desk and gestured towards the letter. "This is exceedingly rare, you know, and as such this letter has already changed the course of history. Tutoring for a magical human in the history of the goblins, by the goblins ... it's an immense honour. One I hope you'll accept with all due alacrity. Of course, your father left the decision to you, since the offer does not include him."
"Will it become known?" Harry asked. "That the Chief offered?"
"Not from me, if that's your wish, but you should be prepared for Chief Ragnok to make it known in certain circles himself. Not to lessen your friendship with Gringotts in any way, but Chief Ragnok is a savy leader. He'll have more than just one reason to extend the offer, and one of those reasons might very well be the wish to thumb his nose at the British Ministry."
"I'm always good for that," Harry said, grinning when Mr. Irvine laughed. "So ... me being friends with the goblins is a fairly big deal?"
"There are only a handful of wizards and witches each century who can claim that honour, if that," Mr. Irvine confirmed. "Most of them earn the status through years of good relationships and extraordinary service to the Horde. Many have worked for Gringotts, too. May I ask what you accomplished to earn it?"
"I, er, killed a basilisk last May." Harry flushed under his tutor's incredulous stare. "And sold it to Gringotts in the summer. They didn't have that much ready cash, so I agreed to take a couple of properties instead. They found that nice, I guess."
"A basilisk," Mr. Irvine repeated. "Where? And how?"
"I'd rather not talk about it," Harry answered, a little sheepish. "Not because I don't want you to know, but because there are ... things going on, going back to it. I promised Sirius and my steward at Gringotts to keep it quiet."
"Well, that's certainly your right." Irvine cleared his throat. "I'm immensely curious now, of course. And I might want to write a paper about your relationship with the goblins, just so you know."
"Please don't," Harry said quickly. "I don't like the attention."
"Oh, that I can believe. I couldn't without Lord Black and Gringotts' approval as long as you're a minor, in any case, not without regretting it a lot. But maybe you'll think of me if you ever change your mind. There's so little known about the goblins and their culture that historians all over the world are clamoring at the few chances available to rectify that."
"Well, the Chief invited you as well," Harry said consolingly. "That's pretty awesome, and he'd expect you to write about it, wouldn't he?"
A faraway look flitted over Mr. Irvine's face before he caught himself. "The particulars would have to be discussed, but I certainly hope so. Shall I pass the invitation along to your father?"
Harry nodded. "He can figure things out. I guess we'll all meet next summer or whenever Chief Ragnok's got the time. Learning about goblin history probably isn't done in a week."
"No, it probably isn't," Mr. Irvine teased him. He ran a slightly shaky hand over his face. "Alright then, that's it for today. Don't forget your essay on the formation of Magical Britain."
Harry acknowledged this and bade his tutor goodbye a moment later. Jules took him to the Come And Go Room and there Sweetie and Blue slithered off his arms and onto the large desk.
"We want to learn about the ground-dwellers' history, too," Blue said without preamble.
"Harry ask that we can come, too," Sweetie agreed. "We don't like leaving Harry alone."
"The goblins are my friends," Harry told them, stroking both their little heads. "They won't hurt me."
"It's different now," Blue pouted.
"We need Harry," Sweetie agreed. "And Harry needs protection. We are small yet, but our bite stings."
"A lot." Blue preened, his hood flaring open.
"Fine, I'll ask, but don't be insulted if Chief Ragnok says no." Harry lowered his hands until the snakelings were flattened to the table and then gently began to roll them around. Both snakes hissed in amusement and curled like thick vines around his wrists. Sweetie was also gnawing on him, while Blue was satisfied with sipping the dancing magic from Harry's skin. "Thanks for looking out for me, though. I think it'd be great to have you there."
"Harry got some boring mail," Blue huffed, slowly loosening his grip and slinking off to poke his tiny snout against a small stack of letters. "Smells of ground dwellers."
"Must be the contract templates for the house elf business," Harry said, reaching for said letter. "Sharptooth really is working fast."
The letter did contain eight different templates, two for each specific work environment: private households; households of old or noble families, and small and large businesses, respectively. The contracts for light duties were easy to go over and approve, but Harry kept the others with their difficult paragraphs back for Hermione, just in case she noticed something he, Sirius, and even the snakelings hadn't - never mind the elves themselves. So far, however, Harry was pleased and thought that his steward had done an outstanding job. The Potter elves would be even more pleased, should people actually hire their services.
Once his partial answer was sent off with Dobby, Harry girded his loins and tackled his homework. He got started on everything and decided to indulge Hermione with a visit to the library later to finish some of it. Nothing was pressing or overly difficult, thankfully, and he used the last bit of his alone time to write to Sirius about Professor Flitwick's test and Hermione's reaction to it.
It felt good talking to a father figure about these things, even if it sometimes went far deeper than Harry was comfortable with. Admitting to failures, both perceived and real, always stirred up that deep well of fear of being found wanting after all, and being rejected because of it.
Right now, however, Sirius was proud of, and happy for him, and that always lurking, insidiously paralyzing worry was pushed into the darkest corner of Harry's mind. It helped that Brady had prepared him for it, had said that it was perfectly normal to feel insecure and to give himself time to accept the change in his circumstances.
"Your father is not like the humans you used to live with," Sweetie told him starkly, giving off a definite air of having read his mind. "The favourite mutters about them often and he's never lying. Sister would bite him if he did."
"Therefore we know that your father is a superior human to care for a youngling," Blue added. "Pointless stress is not good for Harry. You should rather be happy, it makes your magic taste really good."
Harry laughed a little, already too used to their bluntness to feel embarrassed. "Yeah, I know. I know that Sirius wouldn't send me away again. It's just in my head."
"The stupid thoughts will go away eventually," Blue hissed, crawling over Harry's wrist and coiling around it lightly. "Rub my back scales, Harry. I'm itching."
Dutifully, Harry rubbed the delicate back with the tip of his pointer finger. "You've grown a bit, do you think you'll shed your skin soon?"
"Soon, yes," Blue hissed. He sounded blissful and not all there. "Harry keep baby skin. It'll be enough for wand holster. Make family wand safe."
"Oh, that's ... thank you. Thank you very much. It'll be a very handsome holster, too." Harry swallowed against the small lump in his throat. "I feel like I don't deserve a present. I've gotten so much already."
"Harry deserves lots of presents," Sweetie said and slithered right next to Blue to get a back rub as well. "Oooh, that'ssss nicccce. Brother not hog all of Harry's magic fingers!"
As siblings do, the snakelings began play fighting while still enjoying their back and belly rubs. Harry indulged them until they had enough.
"One question, Blue," Harry said as he helped the limp snake onto his shoulders. "Do I have to watch out for something while you're shedding? Brady told me that snake eyes get milky for a while - if you've got problems seeing, you need to tell me, okay?"
"I see magic even when I can't see anything else," Blue replied patiently. "And Harry and sister will keep me safe. First shedding won't be hard."
"I will sleep lots and lots when it's my time," Sweetie declared. "I do not like being blind. But I like skin rubs."
"Me too." Blue yawned, his small mouth opening obscenely wide. Two fangs were starkly visible, and they looked much bigger than the last time Harry had seen them. "Sister and brother with the favourite will be shedding soon, as well. The favourite can teach Harry how to take care of us."
"Maybe I'll go to the favourite for it," Sweetie declared lazily. "I'll observe how Harry does with brother first."
"That's cold, Sweetie," Harry chuckled. "But I understand. It's like a birthday for you, right? And I wouldn't want to hurt you, or keep you from your siblings, if you want them there."
"I stay with Harry," Blue said loyally. "No one can touch my skin. It's a present. We will celebrate my first shedding together."
"We will," Harry murmured and nearly cooed at Blue's soft head butt. "Come, Sweetie, it's time to go back to Gryffindor Tower. How about a little nap before dinner?"
oOo
They had their nap and the snakelings then asked Harry to be brought into the Chamber of Secrets, together with Stannis, to pay another visit to Audovera. The snakelings hadn't wanted to be separated very often from Harry, but the same wasn't true for the gold-horned field lizard at all. For all his friendliness, Stannis was fiercely independent and enjoyed his solo jaunts around Hogwarts. It helped that there was always a house elf nearby to keep him out of trouble.
With all of them gone for the evening, Harry felt a little naked, although it was nice to have time alone with Hermione in the library after dinner. They both worked through their homework for an hour, their feet linked under the table, and afterwards they did a last read-through of their letter to Mr. Papageorgiou
"It's not a coloured photo, but it's still a very nice portrait of Buckbeak and Agapi together," Hermione said and placed the moving picture next to the finished letter. "Do you think they are a couple?"
"Might be," Harry allowed. "Buckbeak's around her a lot, and he doesn't like the other guys coming too close."
"Hm," Hermione said.
"What is it?" Harry asked. "That was your 'thinking hm'."
She grinned at that. "It was, but don't worry. It's nothing pressing. I just have to research something."
"But then you'll tell me?"
Hermione pressed her foot against Harry's. "You know I will. Let's get this on the way and then relax for a bit in the common room. I know for a fact that Ginny and Romilda Vane are having detention with Madam Sprout, so it should be fairly quiet for once."
The mention of Romilda reminded Harry that this Sunday was their very first Hogsmeade weekend.
"We're still going to Hogsmeade together, aren't we?" he asked. At her nod, he went on, "Is there something I need to do? Get you flowers, or dress up, or something?"
"Not on my account," Hermione answered with a smile. "But thanks for asking. It's our first official date here, maybe it's better to keep it casual. Ron will already have things to say about it as it is, I'm sure. No need to pour oil into that particular flame."
"Okay, but I don't want to keep it casual forever just so he won't harass us," Harry said. "I mean it. I don't mind dressing up a bit if that's the thing to do. I just ... I don't know what to do. You'll have to prod me along, I'm afraid."
"We'll do just fine. Let's figure it out as we go along. Tomorrow the weather's supposed to be quite rainy - have an umbrella or a water repelling charm ready if you want to be a gentleman," she teased. "Other than that I really don't need much. Just you."
"Same," Harry confessed. "So, do you have a plan for our date? You'll want to visit the bookstore, I'm sure."
"And you Zonko's," Hermione returned. "Honeydukes is supposed to have the best chocolate. With all the exercise we're getting, I thought I'd stock up a bit."
It was fun to map out all the things they wanted to see, and to decide together whether to try for a private booth at the Three Broomsticks or possibly meeting up with friends who'd be there at the same time. The afternoon was reserved for their meeting with Healer Williams, who'd already notified Harry that he'd taken care of a room for their consultation. Dobby would take them there after lunch, thus making sure that they wouldn't be followed.
"Let's sit with whoever happens to be there," Hermione said, squeezing Harry's hand. "We'll have had each other's company all morning and will probably have it after our meeting with your healer as well."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "I really wouldn't mind, since it's a date."
"I'm sure." Hermione flushed a little. "It's nice ... having friends now. It wasn't like that last year."
"Yeah, I get that." Harry returned the squeeze of her fingers. "I wonder what's changed, but at the same time I'm just happy about it."
"Then we're agreed?"
"We are." Harry looked around and, upon finding that they were quite alone, leaned forward and kissed Hermione on the lips. "It'll be a great date. Dobby."
The elf appeared promptly, bouncing a little with expectation. "What can Dobby do for Harry Potter sir?"
Harry held out the letter. "Could you please bring this to Mr. Papageorgiou in Greece?"
"Dobby will," the elf squeaked and popped away smartly before Harry could thank him.
"Back to the common room, then?" Hermione asked, already beginning to sort her things into her bag. "We could get a cup of cider and sit in front of the fireplace."
"Sounds like a plan!"
They actually did manage to snag spots on the sofa right in front of the fire and spent another hour in lazy conversation with their friends, who were just as excited about the Hogsmeade trip by now. A lot of them had even found dates, although Seamus and Dean had decided to go together to check out all the fun stores, and Neville was even going solo, but meeting Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones for lunch, with the possibility of also spending the afternoon with them.
Ron, who was sitting in an armchair a bit away from everyone, looked like he begrudged them all their trip. Harry had had some hope that Ron had finally understood why he'd been punished with house arrest, but the ugly scowl on his face wasn't encouraging. If anything, he looked like he wanted the dementors to eat all of them, just so they couldn't leave the castle.
oOo
Saturday passed in a blur, the whole morning dedicated to training and the afternoon equally tied up with going over Professor Flitwick's assignment. Blaise Zabini had found Harry and Hermione in the library and invited himself nonchalantly into their group.
"The more the merrier," he said when Hermione stared at him suspiciously. "Besides, I'm not after the credits or some points. Nice Muffliato, by the way. Very robust."
"Thanks. What are you after, then?" Harry asked. "It's probably not our esteemed company."
"Would that be so strange?" Zabini asked with a wry little grin. "Now that Malfoy's confined to an uninhabitated, undisclosed part of Hogwarts, things have somewhat calmed down in Slytherin. I even caught Goyle trying to follow me here, but I lost him on the second floor."
Hermione exchanged a quick look with Harry and then said, "Next time, bring him. If he's willing to follow you, he might be interested in ... not being enemies."
"Mmh." Zabini sprawled a little in his chair. "Since I'm here already, do you want to put me to work? That assignment is multi-faceted, isn't it? Flitwick's known for it."
"It is, in fact," Harry said and slid the page with the instructions over to the Slytherin. "He initially wanted to give me the Summoning Charm to work on, but I can do that already, so he went with the Disillusionment Charm instead."
Hermione smiled a little blandly at that and lightly touched her necklace as if in thought.
"You can do the Summoning Charm?" Zabini repeated, losing a little of his calm attitude. "You're full of surprises, Potter. Care to show me?"
"We'll take one of my books, or Madam Pince will ban us until graduation," Hermione said. She stood, grabbed her Charms textbook, and went over to the closest shelf. "Ready, Harry."
"Accio Hermione's book," Harry murmured, flicking his wand a little. The book came sailing towards him without issue and gently smacked into his palm. "There, all summoned."
"Not too shabby, Potter, not too shabby," Zabini offered. "Though you didn't do yourself any favours with Flitwick's new choice. I heard it's fiendishly hard to accomplish."
"Well, it'd have to be if Harry can top up his grade by twenty percent," Hermione said as she sat back down. "I already offered Harry to research the charm's history."
"I could play test subject and judge," Zabini said. "See how you're doing and research how the magic is supposed to work. Also, if Potter manages to teach me that one before Yule, I'll owe him a boon."
"Not just a favour?" Hermione asked.
"What's the difference?" Harry asked. "Sorry if that's ignorant."
"A boon is a formal declaration of owing a favour. A boon includes anything up to doing serious harm to an enemy, although that's quite frowned upon in this day and age." Hermione's eyes were fixed on Zabini's placid face. "What will you do, once you're able to disillusion yourself?"
The Slytherin smirked. "Nothing too illegal, and nothing to anyone not in Slytherin ... at least until Valentine's Day."
"Until the end of third year," Hermione negotiated. "If it's Malfoy, I really don't care, but I'm supposed to be the moral one so you can take it or leave it."
Zabini looked from her to Harry. "And your opinion, Potter? Since you'd be the one actually teaching me."
"I want your word that you won't harm people," Harry said.
"People, or people who don't deserve it?" Zabini asked lightly. "There's a difference."
There was, Harry could agree with that. "People who don't deserve it," he decided after a moment's consideration. "And nothing that would get you expelled or land you in Azkaban until you leave Hogwarts."
"That's a given," Zabini said smoothly. He stuck out his hand. "Are we agreed, then? A boon for teaching me that charm, and I'll honour your stipulations."
"We are agreed," Harry replied and clasped the offered hand.
A small swirl of magical light danced over their skin, vanishing as quickly as it had come.
"Seriously," Hermione huffed. "Entering into a magical contract in the library of all places. Dumbledore will know about it."
"Even so, it's none of his business," Zabini said shortly. "Now, you've got two months for the project. Let's make plans for meetings, and you'll need a timeline to get your essay done without rushing it."
"Finally someone who appreciates good planning as much as I do," Hermione said approvingly. "Here, I've already started by listing available classrooms for practical training ..."
For a quarter hour they haggled over duties and times for meetings. By dinner time, all three of them left the library well satisfied with their progress and even eager for the next session.
"I didn't know studying could actually be fun," Harry confessed once Zabini had slipped away. He looked around to check for listening portraits and cast a Muffliato when one of the inhabitants showed a little too much interest. "But I am having fun. That's a little weird."
"You do well in small groups," Hermione agreed. "And you learn exceptionally well from tutors. You might be one of those people who're not really built for a conventional teaching environment."
"Good of Dumbledore to employ so many shoddy teachers, then," Harry joked.
"And good of you to see the silver lining," Hermione sighed. "Since we founded the Herald I've been wondering what's keeping people from sending their children elsewhere. Beauxbatons is not so far away, the curriculum is fantastic, and they do take international students, not just French citizens. Hogwarts loses badly in direct comparison. Even the tuition is lower for Beauxbatons, and of course magical travel doesn't take much time at all. It hardly makes sense. Runcorn and Lily are the only ones to leave in years, I've checked."
"Who knows," Harry said with a shrug. "For all we know, Dumbledore could compel them."
Hermione stared at him, aghast, but then a thoughtful frown settled on her face. "Right. It wouldn't even be farfetched, what with him bespelling students and teachers whenever it suits him. And if it isn't him, it might even be the Ministry. They seem intent on controlling people. You just have to look at how they're handling Sirius Black's case, never mind poor Hagrid last year."
Harry sighed. "You and the others are already on it, but maybe you should escalate it further. It is suspicious if one stops to think about it."
"But people don't like to stop and think much in Magical Britain, do they?" Hermione asked dryly. "Good lord, the Ministry will try to kill the newspaper if we bring that. If we take out the parents' physical attachment to their children - which we reasonably can because of instant magical travel - we almost have a case for the DMLE. All it needs is one solid piece of evidence. It'd be a nightmare."
"I don't know, a lot of people seemed ticked off in their letters already," Harry countered. "Maybe they're getting wise, now." He looked admiringly at his girlfriend. "It'd be all thanks to you."
"Right. Forget the newspaper, the Ministry would probably try to kill me," Hermione said in a suddenly hushed voice. "Let's forget it, Harry. I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it. There's brave, and there's stupid, and I hope I never cross the line."
Harry made a sound that Hermione obviously interpreted as agreement, but Harry had no intention of letting this slide. Hogwarts might have been a good school at one point, but the fact was that it wasn't a good school now, for whatever reason. The Dursleys and Dumbledore had forced him into situations against his wishes long enough. This he had some control over, and he would exercise that control to the best of his ability.
A small, feral grin tugged on his lips. How convenient that he had Britain's worst prankster and at least one vicious goblin on his side! This mystery was going to get solved soon, he was sure of it. All he needed to kick it off was an invitation letter to Hogwarts, and that one he had stowed in his very own trunk.
oOo
On Sunday after breakfast, Harry and Hermione stood in line to leave the castle, when Dumbledore made an appearance.
"Ah, Miss Granger, how fortuitous to catch you. I'm terribly sorry to ask this of you, but something has come up. Your presence in my office is required."
"Right now? On a Sunday?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows. "Why?"
"I think you know why," Dumbledore said mildly. "That matter needs to be discussed in private."
"I'm sorry, Headmaster, but I won't play guessing games with you on a weekend," Hermione said with cold politeness. "If you need to see me, you should send a request to my parents and my lawyer, and of course Professor McGonagall. I'm no longer allowed into meetings without legal representation and supervision. It's actually sort of expected, since I've become a minor heiress over the summer. Additionally, if this is about Malfoy, Harry's got a right to be there, too. I don't think he or his lawyer will appreciate being excluded."
"Miss Granger-"
"What is going on here?" Professor McGonagall asked as she hurried towards them. "Why are you holding up the line, Headmaster?"
"It's just a small matter, Minerva, easily resolved in half an hour," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling a little.
"Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall pressed, obviously in no mood to entertain Dumbledore's evasions.
Around them, the students were eerily quiet and craning their necks to see and hear as much as they could.
"Professor Dumbledore wants a meeting right now, possibly about Malfoy, and I told him no since neither my parents, nor my lawyer are present," Hermione replied. "I also have plans already and am not willing to delay or cancel them on such short notice."
Professor McGonagall's eyes took in Harry and Hermione's linked hands. "Yes, I can see that. Run along now. I'll contact you and the relevant parties for that meeting shortly."
For a moment Dumbledore looked like he wanted to protest, but when both Professor Sinistra and Sprout made to join them he thought better of it and glided away with a small nod.
"Well done, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall murmured before also leaving.
"That wasn't suspicious at all," Lavender declared. "Honestly, the Herald practically writes itself and we're never going to get everything published at this rate. I'll have to contact Fandar and request a bi-weekly publication."
"You have no idea," Harry muttered and tugged Hermione along to finally leave the castle.
Thanks to Neville's consideration, they managed to snag a carriage for themselves and made use of the opportunity to cuddle up and vent their anger.
"I don't know what Dumbledore's playing at, bringing up Malfoy like this," Hermione fumed as they passed the gates. She shivered violently in the dementors' presence, her fingers tightening painfully around Harry's. It was just a moment, however, not worth the effort for Harry to call his Patronus. "It's just like Sirius' case, like he wants to sabotage the negotiations. Oh."
Harry couldn't help but lift a sardonic eyebrow. "Yeah."
"Oh, that old goat!" Hermione exclaimed. "He's not done enough to trigger the secrecy oath he's taken, but he can allude to it and goad others into speaking about the things he wants to make public. Oh, Mr. Finch will hear about this. I hope he'll sue Dumbledore out of his stupid beard!"
Tactfully, Harry didn't tease her about her very Malfoy-esque fit of pique, but he did concede that it would be poetic justice. "We can write him a letter and send it off with a house elf after lunch," he said instead. "I'm looking forward to that a bit."
"Just a bit?" Hermione asked. "I'll bring popcorn to that meeting."
Her snide tone and crossed arms startled a laugh out of Harry. "You're the light of my life, 'Mione. I shouldn't find that funny, but I do."
"It's either that or a lot of ugly crying out of sheer frustration," Hermione huffed. "And I refuse to let that man make me cry."
"Yeah, me too." Harry put his arm around her shoulders. "Bring the popcorn. The look on everybody's face will be worth it."
"Let's also bring Dobby, your dad will want the memory, I'm sure," Hermione murmured, reluctantly smiling. "I never knew I could misbehave to badly."
"Well, right now you're only planning on misbehaving," Harry said with a grin. "But I'm pretty sure your parents won't be mad."
"You of all people should know that I always realize my plans," Hermione admonished. Her resolve wavered then and in a small voice she asked, "Will you come to detention with me? I'll probably get one."
"It's the least I can do for encouraging you, and it'd still be worth it." Harry smacked a kiss to her forehead and sat up. "Hey, we're almost there. Let's forget all that and just have a good day."
They stepped out of the carriage when it stopped and made off with each other before someone could feel encouraged to join them. A few pointed whispers followed them, though thankfully there were no snide remarks.
Their very first round around Hogsmeade was about getting to know the quaint little village and making note of the shops they wanted to visit, and on the second walk-through, Hermione had a lot of fun poking through Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. She also spent nearly half an hour in the little bookstore, Tomes and Scrolls, before readily accompanying Harry to a sporting goods store and helping him select a pair of Quidditch gloves.
Afterwards, they visited Dogweed and Deathcap, the Herbology store, and quietly decided that Neville's potions ingredients were superior to the ones on offer there.
"I know that we wanted to visit Honeydukes, but time's getting a bit short," Hermione said regretfully. "We could nip in for a minute, though."
Harry considered the offer and then shook his head. "Maybe after our meeting with Brady, if there's still time. I'd much rather have lunch with you than stock up on sweets. I can always have Dobby bring us some."
"What about Zonko's, then?"
Harry smirked. "What, with the Weasley twins and my dad in the picture? I already have more stuff than I know what to do with."
"Well, as far as I know you're not doing anything with it," Hermione pointed out. "Can I ask why? Ron certainly deserves it, at least every now and then, and don't get me started on Malfoy."
"Malfoy's contained for the time being. Brady said that it would probably be satisfying to beat on him when he can't defend himself, but he also said that I'd feel like an arse later." Harry sighed and grimaced a little. "He's not wrong. I just want Malfoy to leave me alone. And everybody else, too."
"Brady's good," Hermione said with a little smile. "Shall we go then? I could definitely eat."
She could always eat, Harry thought with a little grin. They exercised together only twice a week, but that didn't mean that Hermione didn't have her own, far more advanced routine on some of the other days, and it showed. She was very trim and fit and just beginning to develop some curves, and there was a new confidence to her that had been missing the last two years. It was, in Harry's opinion, insanely attractive on her.
Overcome with affection for his girlfriend, Harry grabbed Hermione's hand more tightly and gallantly led her to the Three Broomsticks, holding the door for her and even letting her slide into the booth first. None of their friends were here yet, and he privately relished in the opportunity to have Hermione's company to himself after all.
"Hello there, welcome," a buxom blond woman greeted them with a big smile. A little brass tag on her vest read 'Rosmerta'. She handed out menus with a deft hand. "Today's special is Shepherd's Pie with a side salad, if you're interested. Otherwise just check out the menu and let me know what you'd like. Are you here on a date?"
"Er, yes," Harry said, a little embarassed but unwilling to let go of Hermione's hand.
"How lovely. May I offer you a dessert on the house? We have strawberry panna cotta, and of course there'd be espresso to go with it." Rosmerta's smile brightened even more. "We don't get too many young couples here; they prefer madam Puddifoot's because of the romantic atmosphere."
"Well, that's not really our thing." Hermione glanced at Harry, confirming that he was alright with accepting the offer. "The dessert would be lovely, though. Thank you, Madam Rosmerta, we appreciate it."
"Oh, pish. Anything for young love! So, do you want the Shepherd's Pie?"
"Er, I thought I'd try the pork strips in mushroom cream and a salad, actually," Harry said. "I've never eaten a Swiss dish."
"And I'll have the game pie," Hermione added after a quick look through the menu. "Although everything here sounds good."
"Something to drink, a butterbeer perhaps?"
"Just water for me," Hermione replied, and Harry nodded.
Orders done, Madam Rosmerta left them and Harry quickly erected a privacy ward around their table. "It's not perfect, so we shouldn't talk about anything too important, but it'll do."
Hermione held out her hand for a moment, a look of intense concentration on her face as it brushed against the magic. "There's something ... it feels quite robust."
"You're really getting better," Harry said. "Two weeks ago you were still struggling."
"You're an excellent teacher," Hermione countered and pecked Harry on the cheek. "Your Muffliato is good ... I wonder how it would be as a parsel incantation. Probably twice as strong."
"Er, a little more than that," Harry muttered. "I tested it with Dobby once. He said it was too much, he was afraid of not being able to hear me call him."
"Oh." Hermione sat up at that. "Really?"
"Yeah, I mean, I could call all my elves in my head with magic, but it's hard for humans without training. They mostly rely on listening to us calling their names out loud."
"Right, they can monitor over very far distances with their magic bolstering their senses. And your Muffliato would block that access?"
"Not completely, but far too much for Dobby's comfort. He's asked me not to do it when he or another elf isn't with me to protect me if need be." Harry flushed a little. "He was serious, too. He threatened to poach Jules' father from the gnomes of Switzerland if it happened too often without warning."
Hermione stared at him for a second and then began to giggle into her hands. "Oh my god, he would!"
Harry's flush deepened. "Even worse, I think he's already working on it. It's a little scary."
"You've got to keep me updated on this," Hermione hiccoughed, eyes bright with laughter.
At that moment, Madam Rosmerta returned with their drinks and salads. She placed everything on the table, conjured a merrily burning candle in a pretty brass holder for a more romantic atmosphere and then winked at them with a little flick of her finger against the Muffliato before sauntering away again, much to the enjoyment of several of the male patrons.
In the blink of an eye, Dobby appeared, checked over their food with a snap of his fingers, and vanished again.
"Madam Rosmerta is nice," Hermione commented and took a sip of her water. "And I can see why so many boys prefer coming here."
"She's ... curvy," Harry admitted. "But I think they do because she really is nice. I heard from Wood that the Hog's Head is something of a dive. Dumbledore's brother Aberforth owns it and he seems to be a right old tosser."
"Well, Angelina said that he's alright, but he doesn't like the headmaster much. Or most people. They've been at odds for decades, apparently." Hermione scrunched up her nose and put a forkful of salad into her mouth. "Oh, that's good. She also said that Aberforth has a rather ... unusual ... relationship with his little herd of goats. I don't want to think too much about that."
Harry wasn't especially keen on that either and quickly redirected their conversation. "The Herald will come out on Monday. Are you nervous yet? I am, but you seem so calm."
"Calming drought," Hermione confessed. "I'm ... honestly, those articles about Sirius Black are a huge responsibility, and if the goblins are right, people all over the world will read them. I'm just fourteen - it's so weird! That's the real reason why I don't want to take on Dumbledore for maybe compelling students as well ... it'd be too much all at once."
"I'm sure the articles will be great, although I get it now. I'm worried about the Ministry or people from the ICW wanting to, I don't know, harm you or something. You must have thought about that, too."
"Well, I knew going in that I might become a person of interest to them, of course," Hermione said. "I did talk to my parents about it before I started writing, and they said that it might be dangerous or inconvenient, but then again I have two years of Hogwarts under my belt, and those were no picnic either. They said I should do some good along with the dangerous, and you kindly loaned me your lawyer. I hope he'll agree to help when people come calling." She exhaled. "Honestly, right now I'm still far more worried about people noticing me and sending me those unspeakable marriage contracts next year."
Harry snorted. "Right. It's just as well that Sharptooth'll have all of that well in hand." He finally got started on his salad. "I'm really worried about Fudge, though. And Dumbledore. I'll tell a couple of house elves to come along to wherever you go. I can do that, right?"
"I rather hoped you would," Hermione admitted. "Just because I've thought about all the ramifications doesn't mean I can predict what it'll truly mean for me. Mentally and ... and physically. Meaning, I'm already on one calming drought a day due to anxiety, have been for a couple of days now, and I'm worried that it'll get worse once the situation is beyond our control. Hogwarts is one thing, the world quite another."
"What kind of anxiety?" Harry asked. "Are you just afraid or is it ..." He blinked at Hermione's guilty little lip nibble. "You have performance anxiety!" he cried. "Oh my god!"
"I know! It's completely ridiculous!" Hermione wailed, covering her eyes. "I'm a little afraid, too, but Harry! Possibly hundreds of thousands of witches and wizards will read my words! They'll know my name, and even if it won't make me as famous as your father or yourself, it'll still be overwhelming! You know how I hate to disappoint people!"
"You're making yourself sick because of this?" Harry shook his head. "You don't have to, you know. We can still tell Sharptooth to keep your name out of the Herald. People here will know, obviously, but the Herald's under oath to protect its writers. We can stop that right here."
Hermione bit her lip even harder. "I know we could. I feel so ... do you think me stupid for wanting the recognition?"
"Well, I can't say I understand why you would want it, but your feelings are your feelings, right?" Harry answered, a little awkwardly.
"Your experience with fame is obscene," Hermione said quietly, "because you're famous for something you don't remember. You might even be famous for something you didn't do. We won't ever know."
"Probably not," Harry agreed, "since Voldemort isn't really the chatty type if it isn't about his own greatness."
Hermione snorted out a laugh but sobered again quickly. "I could be recognized for something I did, Harry. I collated the information and wrote those articles, hopefully in a rational yet engaging manner. I want people to know me for my work, just not Hector's legacy. I've got plans for my life and it involves working with the brightest people in the world."
"People, not magicals," Harry said slowly.
"Trust you to pick up on the one detail even my parents haven't yet noticed." Hermione sighed. "Yes. Everyone, not just magicals. Don't get me wrong, magic is fantastic, but there's so much to learn in the mundane world, as well. I want to study it all, as far as I'm able. I guess I'm truly my great-great-grandfather's heir."
"So you're what, trying to meet important people by getting those articles published under your name?" Harry fiddled with his fork, a little unsure of how he was supposed to react. "So you'll have connections later?"
"That sounds rather calculating, but yes. My parents and I have weighed the risks against the possible gains and I have decided for myself that I want to take that step. I'm fourteen, not really a child anymore. If I want to make a difference, I have to stand up for what I believe in." She dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry if that's hard to take. I've had people tell me often enough that too much ambition in a female is ... ugly."
Still a little stunned, Harry shrugged. "Well, it's a little unusual. I don't know any girls who want as much as you do." He thought of his Aunt Petunia and how satisfied she was with her very small life in Little Whinging, catering to her husband and son's every whim.
"I don't want to scare you off," Hermione whispered. "But I don't think I can change myself much, either, if you decide you don't like it."
"Well, you shouldn't have to," Harry replied hotly, almost as a reflex. "Brady told me that I shouldn't have to 'tone it down' for Ron's sake, and you shouldn't have to do it for mine, either." Her wet, afraid eyes cooled his ire some, and he took a deep breath. "I don't mind your ambitions. We already agreed that we'll do what we want with our lives, right? We just have to figure out how to do it together."
Hermione didn't raise her eyes from their joined hands. "I really want to."
"Yeah, me too." Harry dropped an exasperated kiss onto Hermione's forehead. "Now stop being an insecure git or I'll have to throw you on Agapi's back and chase her all over the Hogwarts grounds until you puke. You got me?"