Chapter Text
It had been a week since that first D.A class and his break up with Hermione, and Harry was getting even more desperate. He had been inside the Charm for about two weeks and a half, if he had counted the days right. His goal of not spending even one month inside this dream world was getting weaker and weaker with each passing day. His memories were starting to get slightly muddled, and he found himself writing on a journal before sleeping to make sure he wouldn’t forget anything important.
On an optimistic note, the dynamics of the trio were shaping up to be as real as ever every time they spent time together. Ron and Hermione had even gotten in an argument about S.P.E.W yesterday— Harry found himself slightly siding with Hermione this time due to the need of helping her back in thanks for everything she had done for him—and it felt like he had never left his real world behind, if it wasn’t for the fact that he always spied the raven on Hermione’s crest.
That was one of the obstacles that they all found hard to overcome. Resortings were hard to come by—it would take something big happening to the student inside his House to be able to be resorted—and while Hermione didn’t have any intimate friends inside Ravenclaw, she was comfortable in it. She had no outright enemies, just people who talked behind her back.
Ron had an epiphany about the problem the third day that they were discussing it, right in the last moments of lunch and fortunately protected by the privacy charms that Hermione had taken to casting.
“Well, it needs to be something bad and big for you to be resorted, right?” he said, chewing his chicken. “We’re going to be stuck inside here forever because you’re fine in Ravenclaw. But what if you weren’t fine? If something happened?”
Hermione threw him a glare. “First of all, chew with your mouth close, Ron. Second, I know what you’re thinking. I thought about it too, but I don’t know exactly what we can do to force Professor Dumbledore to resort me.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not too fond of that idea, to be honest. You would need to be very vulnerable inside Ravenclaw for Dumbledore to even consider resorting you.”
Hermione sighed. “Having a spat with another member of the House can count as a basis of resorting, but only if said argument is big enough to disrupt the peace between the members of said House or threaten the integrity and safety of the ones involved. I read about it because I wanted to be resorted back in Second Year.”
“Really?” Harry asked, and Ron turned to look at her in confusion.
“Yes. I’m comfortable now because I’ve stopped caring about what people think of me, but I was just a kid back then and the comments and the glares really hurt me. Professor Flitwick talked me out of it and punished the people responsible, and I’ve never had the need of revisiting the problem again.”
Harry nodded, ready to ask who it was that she had gotten into a spat with before realizing that Ron looked decidedly smug about the whole story. Raising an eyebrow in question, he nudged his best friend who proceeded to explain.
“This problem is just resolving itself, really! You two just need to stop thinking so much," Ron said, jubilant. “I have a whole plan—well, not whole as in finished, but I’m getting there! Come on, let’s go to the Room.”
Now inside the Gryffindor Common Room look-alike, Harry and Hermione sat down on the sofa and face Ron, who had spread himself out on the chair close to the fire place.
“It’s easy,” he said, waving his hand around. “We just have to create an imaginary issue between Hermione here and her secret enemy. Boom! Resorting.”
Harry scoffed. “Ron, no. I’m not going to put Hermione in the middle of a fight just to get her inside Gryffindor, there has to be another way.”
“Oh, there isn’t, but my plan is fool proof!” Ron still looked smug. “We’re not going to put her in the middle of any fight, mate, but we’re going to make it look like it!”
Hermione hummed, intrigued. “The reason I didn’t recommend this was because, invariably, it would create a problem between me and Edgecombe that would back fire to myself because I would be the one that started it. Same goes for if either of you do something. Everybody has noticed that we’re friends, they’re bound to make the connection.”
“Ah, but that’s the thing, none of us are going to be doing anything to Edgecombe,” Ron said, excited. “The victim will be you, while the clear perpetrator will be Edgecombe herself.”
Harry nodded slowly. “That could work, couldn’t it?”
“It could, but we would have to time it perfectly and frame her beyond doubt.” Hermione muttered, clearly thinking through possibilities. “We would also have to have somebody who does the actual deed, so that we can all have alibis, and make sure Edgecombe is nowhere to be seen.”
“I’ll rope Fred and George for this,” Ron stated. “They’ll never turn down an opportunity to prank anybody, and they owe me for an experiment gone wrong so I’ll tell them to not be too hard on you.”
“Is this really going to work?” Harry asked. “It could be written off as a mean prank. If that was used for resortings, Gryffindor wouldn’t have students thanks to the twins.”
Hermione played with her hair, thinking. “It would have to be the kind of prank or attack that would be extremely humiliating, or harmful.”
Harry tensed slightly. “I don’t like the idea of that.”
“We could stage it so that it’s bad enough for the resorting but not enough to do big damage to Hermione.” Ron suggested.
“I got an idea,” Hermione suddenly interjected, grabbing both boys’ attention. “We’re going to make it seem as if Edgecombe destroyed a very important and very personal artifact of mine. That, combined with my dreadful history with her, should be enough for Professor Flitwick to demand a resorting.”
“Destroy something? I don’t think that’s going to work.” Ron said, slightly confused at the simple plan.
“It will, because she’ll be destroying my wand.” Hermione stated.
Silence permuted the room and the boys stared at her, dumbfounded and slightly scared. Harry was spluttering silently at such statement, and was having a hard time accepting it. Ron just sat there, mouth opened in shock.
“What? No!” Harry exclaimed. “It’s your wand, Hermione! It can’t be replaced easily!”
“I know that,” Hermione said, sighing. “But it’s the only thing that I can think of that would get me a resorting. I’m open to suggestions.”
Neither boy spoke for a few moments, still too shocked about Hermione’s seemingly flippant way of offering her wand for destruction.
“They could always destroy your favorite book?” Ron tentatively asked. Harry perked up slightly and nodded rapidly, on board with the idea.
“Hogwarts, a History is not a difficult book to buy. It’s replaceable. A wand isn’t, even if I can get another one, it’ll never be the same. If we want a definitive resorting, it has to be the wand that gets destroyed,” Hermione sighed, and looked over at the boys’ uncomfortable expressions. “I’m not thrilled by it either. I’m quite sad about it, actually, but it’s the best plan we’ve got if the twins can pull off a successful framing against Edgecombe.”
“Sorry,” Harry blurted out. “I’m sorry that we have to do this, you know that right? Losing a wand…”
Hermione shrugged uncomfortably. “I can always buy another…besides, everything about this is a dream, isn’t it? We’re all going to go back to normal after the Charm is lifted.”
Somehow, Harry had forgotten that the Charm had a hand in mixing things up and felt a wave of relief flood him, knowing that Hermione’s wand wouldn’t be truly destroyed. Still, he flashed her a shy smile as gratitude. She returned it.
“Alright, then,” Ron said, casting an amused look at his two companions. “What should I tell the twins? They owe me but they’re bound to have questions, especially if I’m asking them to frame somebody else for the destruction of a wand.”
“You still don’t have to tell them anything, do you?” Hermione took out her wand and stared at it, already missing it. “I’ll write you a note saying that they have my permission to destroy it. Just ask them for a complete silence on their end. I’ll even write down how to fix their new product if it means they’ll stay quiet.”
Ron nodded. “Write the note, then. I’ll go find them right now. I’ll tell them to do it tomorrow. By dinner, you’ll be a full-fledged lion!”
Hermione smiled, and took out a parchment, ink and quill to begin the short note. Harry watched her for a moment before turning to Ron.
“Just make sure they don’t harm Hermione, mate. They tend to go overboard sometimes. Tell them to do it while in class, that way her wand is exposed enough that they shouldn’t miss.”
“It’ll be alright, mate, really! I’ll threaten them to reveal their business to Mum if they so much as step out of line.” Ron assured him.
“And that’s not a bad idea,” Hermione interjected, depositing the note with her signature on the table. “Doing it in class. It’ll certainly implicate Edgecombe more since we share almost all of them. Just make sure it’s not a Gryffindor—Ravenclaw class, and we’re good to go.”
“Got it!” Ron grabbed the note and his bag, and walked towards the door. “See you at dinner, then! I’ll let you know how it went.” Moments later, he was gone.
“Do you actually think it’s going to work?” Harry couldn’t help but wonder once more, turning to the girl besides him.
She nodded. “I have confidence on the plan. As long as they don’t discover it’s a frame up, it should be fine and they should concede my wishes of a resorting. I do feel bad about Edgecombe, though. I don’t like her but I also don’t like framing her.”
“Yeah, but it’s kind of necessary, isn’t it?” Harry shrugged. “It trumps moral compass, in this odd situation.”
Hermione snorted. “Is that how you decided to hex my study group? Because of the ‘situation’?”
“Well, yeah!” Harry exclaimed, grinning. “Odd cases require odd solutions, wouldn’t you say?”
Hermione’s laugh answered him, and the boy grinned. They left the Room not long after that with few minutes to spare to their next class.
“Do you think it went well?” Harry asked, nervous energy flying through his body.
“I sure hope it did, wasted my only chance of ordering the twins around on it.” Ron answered, lost on his pate full of mashed potatoes and chicken.
“I’m being serious!”
“So am I!”
Harry sighed, and looked over at the students gathered at the Great Hall. It was currently dinner, and the twins had informed them that they would pull the prank on the class after lunch break, which Hermione and the Ravenclaws shared with the Slytherins. With enough luck, the bushy haired girl would be wearing Gryffindor colors by now.
Harry decided to at least try to eat something, and he chewed through his meal in the same time that it took Ron to eat seconds, not really paying attention to his surroundings until the redhead’s voice cut through his thoughts. Hermione was sitting before them.
“Bloody hell, it actually worked!” Ron exclaimed, before clamping a hand on his mouth and looking over at the other people sitting at their table. Fortunately it was already late into the lunch, and there was nobody close enough to hear them.
“Real subtle, Ron.” Hermione scowled.
“Sorry.”
“It worked then?” Harry intercepted. “Really worked? You’re a Gryffindor?”
“I’m a Gryffindor!” Hermione beamed, showing off her new crest. “Though I lost the Prefect title, since Gryffindor already has the position filled.”
“Oh,” said Harry, dumbly. “Sorry about that.”
Hermione shrugged. “It’s fine, honestly.”
“Yeah, sorry about that, but how did it went?” Ron asked, bluntly.
The girl rolled her eyes but there was a smile on her face. “It went fantastic. Perfectly timed. Fred and George made it seemed as if Edgecombe had been targeting me all class before actually managing to destroy my wand. Professor Flitwick didn’t fight me anymore when I asked for a resorting.”
“What did the twins used? Spells or one of their inventions?” Harry asked.
“I wouldn’t know, actually. They cornered me before class to ask if the note was legit and so was the request. I told them I didn’t want to know anything to make it more real, but they delivered the desired result so it’s all good.” She answered, smiling.
They walk back to Gryffindor Tower was comfortable until they stepped inside the Common Room. Even if Hermione didn’t have many friends, she was still well known as probably the most brilliant student of their generation. Several heads turned when they spied the student that was a Ravenclaw entering the Gryffindor Common Room with her robes colored in red.
Before any questions could be asked, McGonagall stepped inside the tower quickly, and addressed all of the students in a calm matter.
“Good evening to everyone, I hope you had a pleasant dinner,” The professor said, overlooking the mass of students. “Miss Granger has been a victim of dreadful treatment from her House, and has gotten a resorting. She’s been placed into Gryffindor, and I expect you all to welcome her and treat her as one of your own.”
She waited for any questions or exclamations, but everyone seemed either confused of indifferent, so she bid them good night and left the Common Room.
Nobody spoke for a few seconds before murmurs started. The trio looked at each other, and commandeered a table for themselves at the far back of the Common Room, in a corner.
They didn’t talk much, working in Hermione’s case and playing Chess in Harry and Ron’s part of the table. They went to bed early, fully aware of the eyes that followed their every movement until they were inside their respective dorms.
Harry fell asleep with a content smile on his face, despite and burning of his scar. He was now closer than ever of lifting the Charm, but there was something still missing.
He’d figure it out in the morning.
They had been working on their Patronus for over a week. Harry had been under the Charm for just over three weeks, confused as to why it still hadn’t lifted and let him go back to his world.
Today was the day that Harry could almost forget that he was under a dream. Both Ron and Hermione had managed to create a Corporeal Patronus, and the three of them watched as the dog, the otter and the stag pranced around the room trying to catch each other in a game of tag. Hermione’s otter was winning.
“This almost feels like being back there,” Harry had whispered out loud, lost on his thoughts. Hermione regarded him carefully before speaking to him.
“Almost? What is missing?” She inquired.
“Well, the D.A’s supposed to be for students of all Houses, so that’s one thing,” Harry answered, running the back of his neck. “For the other…There were decorations. Left over from Christmas…everybody like them so the Room left them be even after the holidays passed.”
Hermione hummed, lost in her thoughts. The three Patronus chased each other once more before dissolving like mist, and Ron turned towards his two best friends.
“So, we’re going to invite people, aren’t we?” He asked. “To make it more real or whatever.”
“I guess,” Harry sighed. “Don’t know if anyone is going to come, but we can try.”
“Alright. Ron and I will handle the recruiting of the new members.” Hermione said, her eyes shining as new ideas seemed pouring in.
“We will?”
“Yes,” She answered. “We’ll do it right now, actually. Let’s go, Ron, we’ve got work to do. Why don’t you work on figuring out which spells you’re going to teach them, Harry? To have a plan.”
The black haired boy looked at her suspiciously. She was planning something but didn’t want him to know. He shrugged slightly, nodding, and his scar prickled and the voice whispered.
They want alone time. She’s over you, isn’t she? Good. She’s filthy.
Shut. Up.
I’m telling the truth, Harry. Her blood is tainted.
He mentally growled but ignored the presence, and addressed his best friends.
“Yeah, I’ll go do that. Just be careful, alright? Umbridge is still a problem here.”
“We will,” Hermione grabbed her bag and tugged Ron to the entrance. “Good luck, Harry!”
“We managed to put a invitation out there, safely. It looks like the majority of the people will come to the D.A, if not all of them. Are you ready?” Hermione had said to him during dinner yesterday.
Was he ready? Not really, but then again, he had never felt ready for any kind of adventure or rule-breaking that he had done on his time at Hogwarts. He didn’t feel as unsure as last time, because this was technically the second time that he would go through the motions of starting and keeping the D.A.
He was currently waiting inside the Room designed for training. Both his best friends had promised that they would arrive will all the new recruits of the secret club and he felt slightly lonely as he just stood in the middle of the dueling platform that the Room had provided him. He eyed the Christmas decorations with a smile—Ron and Hermione had put them up after his comment yesterday.
The sound of the door opening pulled him from his thoughts, and he smiled as Hermione shot him a smile. She was followed by students from all houses except Slythering, all from the different years.
Ron had been keeping an eye at the end of the group, wary of any member of the Inquisitorial Squad that could be roaming the hallways. Thankfully, the meeting was just after dinner was over, and so the great group of students walking together hadn’t been odd to anyone.
With an encouraging smile from Hermione and a thumbs up from Ron, Harry cleared his throat and addressed the mass of students.
“Hi! I’m sure Hermione and Ron already told you what this club is about,” He said, only to be answered by blank looks. “Okay, then. I would like us to get started on the Stupefy and Expelliarmus spells, if that’s good with everyone. I know they don’t sound incredibly powerful, but they can save lives if used properly—”
“Did you kill Cedric, Potter?!” A rough voice cut through his speech, and he turned his shocked stare toward a Sixth Year Hufflepuff who he had never met, glaring at him.
“What? No, of course not—”
“Then why did you return with the body? Things have been too quiet around that event, haven’t they?”
Harry felt uncomfortable and attacked, and suddenly he had flashbacks to the meeting in Hog’s Head, where everyone had been more interested in learning about the Third Task than learning useful defensive spells.
He scowled slightly, and addressed the Hufflepuff. “I’m not going to talk about Cedric, or the Tasks. We’re not here for that. If you don’t like it, then leave, you’re welcome to.”
The Hufflepuff bloke scoffed, determined to keep the questioning before Hermione spoke up.
“He’s right. We didn’t invite you to the club so that you could grill him about a sensitive topic,” She hissed. “This is a Defense club, and that’s all. We’re here to learn from Harry.”
“Why do is have to be him, though?” A Ravenclaw girl asked from the back.
“Well, he’s a Triwizard champion that survived all three tasks, for one,” Ron called out, walking so that he was next to Hermione, just in front of Harry. “And he’s always been the best at Defense. He can even generate a Corporeal Patronus.”
A couple of disbelieving scoffs from the students had Harry calling Prongs forward, and he watched in satisfaction as the student’s eyes widened. Prongs pranced about for a few moments before dissolving.
“I don’t care if you like me or not, but if you’re here than it means you want to learn how to defend yourself properly.” Harry stated, a note of finality to his voice.
Nobody spoke for a few minutes, but it was a miracle that nobody walked out. Eventually, the same Ravenclaw girl that had questioned his knowledge spoke.
“Alright, teach us, then.” Murmurs of approval and seconding the statement rose, and Harry smiled for the first time since the meeting had started. His next words got interrupted by Hermione, had procured a parchment with the words Dumbledore’s Army at the top.
“Before that, I need everyone to sign this parchment with their name. I’m designing a way of communication to keep things safer.” A table appeared out of thin air, and she deposited the parchment on top of it and a quill next to it.
As the students shuffled forward to sign, Harry turned to Hermione, a question on his eyes.
“My real self made them sign for a reason,” She said. “The Hog’s Head meeting didn’t happen, but I feel like the parchment is important. I, well…I added a few jinxes to it. Don’t sign it yourself, and tell Ron.” She whispered the last sentence. Harry smiled slightly.
The first lesson of the D.A went as smoothly as it could go. There were still a few distrusting stares thrown at him, but Harry felt comfortable knowing that Ron and Hermione had his back.
There were a lot of familiar faces from the real D.A’s ranks: his dorm mates and the girls of his generation, plus Cho and Luna; and there were also a few new faces, but he had no idea what to make of those.
It was a tired Harry that made his way back to Gryffindor Tower with both his best friends. Sneaking their way through every hallway, mindful of Filch and Mrs. Norris, they eventually managed to enter the Common Room unscathed.
Harry’s scar had been burning more than before, but the headache that it produced tired him too much to even think about it. His dreams of the mystery hallway had also returned without warning, and he was now almost touching the handle of the door, feeling oddly excited at what waited for him through the door.
Taking a pain potion, Ron’s snores lulled Harry to sleep.
Today marked Harry’s one month inside the Charm. He was feeling down, knowing that he had made great strides in his way of returning home, but that it wasn’t enough yet to lift the Charm itself.
He was making his way to the Room of Requirement—it was time to teach them the Patronus, and he was excited about that because it was one of his favorite Charms. He stepped inside the Room, pleased to see that everyone had already arrived before him and gotten into positions. Dropping his bag on a corner, he turned to address the recruits.
“Today is Patronus day,” A few sounds of surprised and pleasure welcomed his announcement. “It’s a difficult Charm to cast, and it relies on happy memories. Think of the happiest one you have, and used it to fuel your Patronus. The incantation is Expecto Patronum.”
The class went slowly by as everyone tried but failed to call their Patronus. For Harry, this was a normal scene of his life back home: the Patronus charm has been the most difficult but most enjoyable thing that he had been teaching the D.A before winding up here.
A laugh to his left pulled him from his reverie and he turned and witnessed Hermione laughing freely with her otter swimming around her head. She was joking around with other people—her Gryffindor dorm mates, apparently, because he watched as Lavender whispered something in her ear and Hermione snorted.
Harry smiled, and looked for Ron. He was being accosted by Fred and George, if his scowl was anything to go bye. They were standing in front of a mirror that had photos and newspaper articles tapped on. He felt uncomfortable when he spied the article depicting Ginny’s role in the Chamber of Secrets mess, with a photo of her on a bed in St. Mungo’s.
He surveyed the Room once more, finding more and more similarities to his real world than ever before, and he cast one last look at Hermione’s carefree face. She turned around just in time to catch him, and beamed at him, gifting Harry a wide smile and shining eyes.
He grinned.
It really feels like home.
It really did, and suddenly he felt a cool sensation running through his veins, as if his body had been frozen and still. He only had but a second to meet Hermione’s concerned eyes before black filled his vision, losing consciousness.
He awoke with a start, gasping. His vision was blurry and his head throbbed, his scar was burning and the voice whispered words that he couldn’t understand. His arms, which were mysteriously unresponsive in a way that made it difficult to move them too fast, reached over the table to his right for his glasses. Putting them on, he got welcomed by the sight of white beds and stone walls, and he realized that he wasn’t in the Room of Requirement. He was in the Hospital Wing.
“Hello?” His voice came out as a whisper, and his throat felt dry. He coughed immediately after talking.
“Mr. Potter? You’re awake!” Madam Pomfrey came into view as she made her way to Harry bed, wand out and casting diagnostic charms.
“Madam Pomfrey?” Harry coughed more.
“Here,” She passed a glass of water, which he drank quickly. “It appears everything is well. Your muscles are stunted because of being unused for a month, but a simple potion can take care of that."
Harry had a small vial thrust into his hand with a yellow liquid. At the matron’s urging, he swallowed every last drop of it. His muscles started to feel better after a minutes, and after five he felt as if he had never been sleeping on a bed for a month.
The memories of what he had experienced came back after he had been fully treated. The fight with Hermione, setting of the Charm, the things he had done to come back here. Shrugging off Madam Pomfrey’s orders to stay in bed, Harry strode past her and out of the Hospital Wing, running towards Gryffindor Tower.
He had no idea what time of the day it was, and he really didn’t care at the moment; his only thought was of finding Hermione and apologize until his voice went out. It had been a month since he set off the Charm; what was she thinking? Did she think he was taking too long because he didn’t want to come back? Did she resented him for his words?
He skidded to a stop just before the Fat Lady’s portrait, stuttering the password.
“Password has changed, boy.” She said.
“I don’t know the new passwords,” he grumbled. “I’ve been out of it for a whole month.”
“Ask for it, then.” She answered.
Harry was about to scream his way in, not caring what anybody thought because he has finally back after a month before a voice stopped him.
“Harry?! Mate, you’re awake!” Ron exclaimed, elated, and threw himself on a hug with his best friend.
Harry hugged Ron back with force, but soon separated himself and grabbed the readhead by the shoulders. “Ron, mate, I’m so happy to see you and I will definitely go flying with you sometimes soon—but right now I need to know where Hermione is.”
Ron pulled a frown. “You want to talk to her, right?”
“Yes. I need to”
“Good, ‘cause she was a right mess after the stunt you pulled with the Charm.” Ron continued to frown, but his eyes seemed relieved.
“I figured…” Harry whispered. “I know I was a right arse, and I know I need to apologize but I can’t do that if I can’t find Hermione, can I?”
“True,” Ron nodded. “Last time I saw her she was headed for a walk around the Black Lake. She’s been stressing over you for the last month and McGonagall finally had enough and forced her to take a break from it. She’s been taking long walks since last week.”
Harry nodded quickly and started running before stopping and turning back. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, mate, but I gotta—” He waved at the general direction of the lake.
“I know, mate!” Ron laughed. “Just make sure you ask her out after this? She’s been a right mess and I reckon you were the same inside that fantasy of yours. Sounds like a lover’s spat to me.”
Harry chuckled, and his face flushed. “I’ll do it if she forgives me, I promise.”
“Better make the apology a good one, then.” Ron waved on last time before muttering ‘Sir Cadogan’ to the Fat Lady and stepping inside once the portrait opened.
Harry raced across the hallways of Hogwarts, paying no attention to Filch’s ‘Detention for a week, Potter!’. He found himself, panting and slightly out of breath, just outside the castle itself and onto the beginning of the grounds.
Turning towards the Black Lake, his strides slowed down to give his eyes time to search for his female best friend. He spied nothing, no sign of human life, until he stepped close to where the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament had taken place.
There, with her toes dipping on the freezing lake, was Hermione. A book was opened on her lap as her feet slung back and forth, and her eyes were trained on the pages before her. Her wand, unbroken—thankfully—sat to her right side, ready to be taken and used should the necessity arise.
He was still a big distance away, but decided it was better to announce his presence lest Hermione hex him for scaring her.
“It’s a bit chilly to be dipping body parts on the lake, isn’t it?” His breathing was shallow as he walked towards the girl. He stopped a short distance away to catch his breath and give her time to respond.
Her head snapped up and her eyes widened in surprised and happiness when she laid eyes on him. Her smile was big, but felt slightly off and Harry decided that it wasn’t as bright as it was before.
“I used a Warming Charm. I like the water too much to ignore it,” She answered, closing the book. “You’re awake.”
He smiled tentatively and gestured to her left side. With her nod he sat down carefully and slipped his shoes and sock off before dipping his feet on the water. Hermione, seemingly noticing that he didn’t have his wand with him, took hers and casted the Charm on his feet.
“Yeah. It felt odd being dropped back. Didn’t give me much of a warning, really.” He murmured.
Hermione hummed. “You were gone a month.”
“You were right,” He turned to look at her, his eyes soft. “It’s an incredibly difficult Charm to break. I’m still not sure how I did it, to be honest, but I’m not about to question it. I’m glad to be back.”
“I’m glad you’re back too.” She whispered, adverting her gaze to the lake in front of them.
Silence descended upon the two teens, not entirely uncomfortable but not completely friendly either. There was a tension that Harry hadn’t felt between them before, not even during the Great Firebolt Incident of Third Year. Hermione was reserved now, tensed and uncomfortable but also had an air of curiosity and concern. He, on the other hand, had a desire to express everything he had felt for the last month but words evaded him.
“I missed you,” He said, deciding to start small.
“Did you?” She couldn’t help the small tone of bitterness that ran through her words, and he flinched slightly.
“Yeah, a lot,” He whispered. “It was awful, really. You were a Ravenclaw and didn’t know me but I had all these memories of us.”
Hermione stayed quiet, but the pull of her eyebrows told him that he had her full attention. He continued, voice growing more confident as time went on.
“Didn’t really believe that I had set off the Charm—tried to deny it, actually, until your…counterpart, I guess, basically told me to sod off.”
Her lips curled into a small smile, and she finally turned back to see him.
“Even Ron said I was out of it. I had to resort to the Room of Requirement and Dumbledore’s Pensieve to show you both memories. They couldn’t not believe me after that.”
“Dumbledore’s Pensieve?” Hermione asked, and Harry remembered that she had not witnessed the Headmaster using such artifact before.
“It’s a bowl, a big one, and you can drop memories into it to review them.” He shrugged. “I showed Charm Hermione a lot of memories—all of the important ones. She was so stubborn that it took hours for her to admit that they were real.”
He laughed softly, spying her smile. “I’m glad, really glad to be back home, Hermione.”
Her smiled slipped off slightly, and her eyebrows dipped down. She regarded him warily. “You wished we had never met.”
“I did.” He admitted.
“Do you regret it?”
“With every fiber of my being.”
“Truly?”
“Hermione,” He said. “I always knew you were one of the most important people in my life—up there with Ron, Sirius and Remus—just as I knew that I wouldn’t have made it past First Year if it wasn’t for you. This Charm just drove the point home and yes, I regret it, truly and wholly.”
Her eyes glazed over and a few tears slipped out. His arm came around her shoulders, offering comfort but she didn’t give in. Not yet.
“I heard you say those words and suddenly this light covered you and you slipped in a coma,” she said, sniffing. “Do you have any idea how that felt? Knowing that your best friend got so mad at you for trying to protect them that they set off an ancient Charm and wished that they had never met you?”
Harry grimaced, a new wave of disdain for himself crashing over him. “No, I don’t, but I imagine it makes the best friend a giant, stupid prat.”
Hermione chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, it does, and it makes the other best friend left behind blaming themselves.”
“They shouldn’t—you shouldn’t blame yourself.” Harry whispered, hurt.
“I know. I know it, and yet there I was, a week in and next to your bedside asking for your forgiveness.” She sniffed one more time, and finally gave into his embrace.
He caressed her back, whispering apologies to her ear with as much conviction as he could without breaking the quiet atmosphere.
“Harry,” She interrupted after his forty, perhaps fifty apology. “Stop. I—I forgive you…I shouldn’t, not this fast and I hate to admit it, but I’ve always had a soft spot for you.” She smiled, and went out of his sideway hug to regard him fully.
“I have a soft spot for you too,” He grinned shyly. “I’ll do anything for you to forgive me. Name it, anything! I’ll do it, I promise.”
“Don’t do anything like that again,” Her eyes were flooded with fresh tears as she spoke. “It felt terrible, Merlin—I was mad at you and at myself and not even Ron with his stupid but funny jokes could snap me out of it. You—you left me a mess, do you get that?”
He nodded quickly, his face shameful. “Yes, yes I do—and I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it. And I promise to do better by you—you’ve been so good to me and I go and do this. I promise I’ll do right by you. I’ll tell the stupid voice in my head to shut up.”
Hermione snapped her eyes to his, a frown on her face. “Voice?”
“Yeah,” Harry was so inside his own tirade that he didn’t question that odd note to her voice. “Stupid little git, keeps whispering snide comments. I was fighting with it just before we had our fight. I don’t want to make excuses—Merlin knows there isn’t one—but the thing kept pushing and pushing until I said the words. I’m sorry. I’ll do better in my Occlumency lessons if it means this thing will shut up, I don’t care if Snape is being a wanker.”
Hermione bit her lip in the way that she did whenever a new thought of theory was running through her mind. She slipped her feet out of the water and rapidly put her sock and shoes on, urging Harry do to the same. He obliged, and stood with her.
“That voice, Harry, do you know what it is?” She asked, voice slightly breathless.
He shrugged, and instantly felt dumb. Who wouldn’t put more attention to the foreign and dark voice that crept upon them? In his defense, though, he had a lot on his plate.
“I don’t like it, Harry, not the way you’re describing it,” She stored her book back into her bag, and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go, you need to tell Dumbledore—and I don’t care if you say that ‘He won’t care’, I’ll make him care.”
They walked exactly sixteen steps before Harry abruptly stopped. Hermione halted, looking back at him in confusion. His face was set—determination but fear danced through his eyes as he addressed her.
“I promised Ron I would do something.” He said. Hermione shot him a dumbfounded look.
“I think whatever new Quidditch strategy he’s cooked up can wait after this.” Her voice was flat as she spoke, turning around to walk once more before being stopped again by the black haired boy.
“Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?” He blurted out, catching the girl before him off guard.
“What?” She said, dumbly.
“Do you want to go to Hogsmeade? As a—As a date, that is.” He swallowed nervously.
Hermione spluttered a bit. “Are you—are you asking me out?”
“Yeah…I thought I was clear on that.” He murmured.
“Why?”
“Well, I really like you…and I would really like to date you.” The more he stared at her dumbfounded face, the more he was starting to regret asking her out. What if she didn’t feel the same way? What if the only reason Dream Hermione went out with him was because it was his own dream and he wanted it to happen?
All this questions were brought to a sudden stop with her whispered word.
“Yes.”
“Y-yes?”
“Yes. Next weekend. Be at the gates at ten in the morning, we’ll go from there.” She smiled at him and Harry felt his face flush, but he welcomed it this time.
“Of course. Now, I believe we have a Headmaster to corner?”
She chuckled and gripped his hand once more, tugging. He stumbled behind her, laughing and ignoring the burning of his scar because nothing could sour his mood now; he was back home and had a date with his best friend.
All was well.