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1st Year
Harry looks skeptically at the wall at Kings Cross Station.
“Go on then,” George, or was he Fred, urged, by lifting his chin at the wall and looking at Harry.
Harry didn’t know much about the Weasley’s and even less about the twins, but he knew that he should not always trust when one of them urged him to do something -first.
Fred huffed and pushed forward ahead of his brother.
Running through the wall, he disappeared, making Harry marvel at the magic of it all. He looked at George, and the tall red head tilted his head to prompt Harry to go.
Fighting the fear and anxiety, Harry took a deep breath and plowed ahead. Never one to back down, Harry kept his eyes open through the wall and leaned in.
Coming out the other end, 11-year-old Harry Potter could not believe his eyes, the sights the smells and all the activity. The owls, the loud chatter, the hissing sound of the scarlet steam engine; the cats, and the atmosphere changes with the influx of magical beings was so amazing as he looked around in astonishment. Even the smell of the Hogwarts Express was something awe-inspiring and straight out of a novel.
Harry smiled and practically bounced as he followed the Weasley family to board the Express.
As he waited in line, looking around and taking it all in, a small girl with bushy hair walked confidently to stand behind him. Her face was freckled and sweet, and Harry was about to say hello to her, as she looked both uncertain and excited – like him. As their eyes met, an ache in his chest pinched his breath, causing him to frown and turn.
He missed her scowl of displeasure as she placed a hand over her heart and breathed deeply.
OoO
7th year
Running and panting.
The stiff branches slapping her in the face.
Losing sight of Harry and watching her friends fight and run and die.
Finally, it’s over.
The snake, the climax, the heavy weight of fear being lifted and the burden of sorrow and grieving settling in its place.
Hermione sat on the step of the large entry for Hogwarts. The bridge was no longer a bridge, and Hermione randomly thinks that she should cordon off the edge so no one falls.
In the next second, she mentally chastises herself for the ridiculous notion given then circumstances.
“’Mione?” It’s Harry as he eases down next to her.
She leans on him and he takes her hand. Together they take comfort from each other and the silence.
It was over.
She turns to look at her best friend in the world. He is already watching her, and she laughs at him. “What, Harry?” she asks.
“You have dirt. On your nose. Just there,” he says as his finger touches the tip of her nose in a playful manner. Their eyes meet.
The gaze is intense and meaningful and strikingly poignant. Their chests contract and they lose focus to breathe deeply.
Neither make the connection. They had been dealing with the chest pain, the heart ache for years. Both feeling as though it was tied to the magical food, or atmosphere, or their Muggle childhoods. Neither bothering to ask anyone or research in any way.
OoO
It took a minute for 8th year to happen. A good portion of Hogwarts had to be rebuilt and the grounds made inhabitable again. There was opportunity for modernizing the castle. Though magic had kept the building strong, the magical ley lines had shifted over the centuries, and the magical cross sections of the castle needed to be repositioned.
It was a labor of love for the varying and multiple generations of wizards and witches who dedicated the following two years to assist in the Hogwarts recovery.
Hermione looked around at the new students, at the old students, and across the panel of professors who now sat in the chairs of their predecessors. The Houses remained but had been redefined with the knowledge that each wizard and witch held traits from all the House’s and that through life experiences and choices, the character of a person would develop and be revealed more fully over time.
Though, some things didn’t change, she thought. Her eyes locked on Pansy Parkinson.
Look at her, over there… chewing, Hermione’s mental voice sneered.
Pansy, feelings being mutual, blew a kiss at Hermione followed by a two-finger salute.
Hermione was about to return the sentiment when Harry snorted in humor. He was shaking his head and stabbing a carrot with his fork. “What?” Hermione asked, as if nothing had occurred.
“You two should get a room.”
His comment made Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom chuckle and nod.
Hermione frowned at the three of them. “She’s ghastly, Harry! I can’t even look at her!” She said this as her eyes once again found the dark-haired witch, across the Great Hall.
“Yet, here we are.” Harry smiled at his friend, green eyes and brown eyes connecting in humor. Harry frowned and placed a hand on his chest.
Concerned, Hermione reached across the table. “Heart burn again? Is it bad?”
Harry nodded.
Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out the Muggle item, handing two colorful discs to Harry. Watching her dearest friend chew up and swallow the items made one of the new Gryffindor students ask, “Oi! What is that you just gave Harry Potter?”
Harry had become HARRY POTTER to everyone except those who had fought with him and against him during the battles.
One could tell which side they had fought and how young they were by how they referred to the boy-who-lived. Hermione mentally catalogued those around the room.
Slytherins referred to him as ‘Potter’.
Malfoy and Goyle had called him Potty in the first few days of their 8th year, but Hermione had remedied that with a rather nasty hex one evening after dinner. Malfoy had walked around with boils on his face and arse for a week after. Hermione smiled in memory of listening to him cry each time he sat.
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs called him ‘Mr. Potter’. No one knew why, and Harry and Hermione had speculated that it had something to do with Luna playing a practical joke on Harry that just stuck.
Gryffindor called him Harry Potter – full stop. The First years were strangely protective of ‘Harry Potter’ to the point that Hermione found it annoying at times.
The boy again. “Oi!”
Harry laughed a bit and looked to Hermione to answer. “It was an antacid, which helps neutralize stomach acid that may cause heart burn.” Her voice took on the lecture quality that Harry, Neville and Dean recognized it immediately and effectively signaled the time for them to tune-out.
The Firstie she was schooling was not so lucky as to know when to move on. “Antacid may provide quick relief, but they cannot heal the esophagus damaged by the stomach acid…”
The young Gryffindor’s eyes glazed over, and the rest of the table continued to eat. Hermione stopped lecturing after another seven minutes of information, and returned to her plate, smiling at Harry in a conspiratorial manner. Harry shook his head. “Poor kid.”
They both looked at the young wizard. He looked a bit shell-shocked, not sure what to do next – eat or get up from the table. He did know that he was absolutely, positively not going to engage THE Hermione Granger again. Her courage and bravery were unequaled {except Harry Potter’s}, and her intellect was infamous.
What had he been thinking?!
Hermione chewed one disc of chalky antacid to quell her own heart burn and shrugged. “That’ll teach them not to question me.”
“You two eat those things like candy. You really should go see a Healer,” Dean advised.
Neville nodded in agreement and made a note to ask his grandmum about it.
Harry’s expression was unreadable, his mind elsewhere. It was a flash back from another time. He was remembering how he felt when Hermione fought with him. Sometimes his mind would bounce a scene during one of the battles or times when he was fearing for his life or someone else’s. He knew, always, that Hermione was by his side, ready to fight, run or save him.
He watched her as she read the potions assignment. He wasn’t finished eating so she was waiting for him as she always did. He appreciated her very much, and his feelings for her that had been swirling around in his mind and heart were, at times, over whelming. He couldn’t tell her. It would ruin their friendship; not to mention, the impact his revelation would have on the Weasley’s. Harry closed his eyes, imagining the fall out of he and Hermione announcing that they had some kind of romantic relationship. Harry shook his head again. This time it was met with a question.
“Where are you, Harry?” Hermione was facing him, potion’s assignment set aside on the table.
Their eyes met, and something flared. This time Hermione frowned and looked at her plate. “I’m never eating tomatoes again,” she declared.
Dean’s head tilted, but he didn’t say anything; only shared a curious expression with Neville.
OoO
The days went by and the ache in Harry’s chest grew. One evening, there was a group huddled in the Gryffindor tower, sitting in front of the fire carrying on various conversations. Harry loved these moments, where it was quiet, but not silent; comfortable, but not invasive.
He looked around and his mind traveled back to a time when he couldn’t imagine an hour more of living. Where each step he took, he thought would be his last.
Harry remembered the crunch his footfalls made in the forest, walking slowly away from meeting his parents and talking with his Godfather, Sirius. The Sorcerers Stone enabled his goodbyes. Hermione had been waiting patiently for him. Awe shining in her eyes as she witnessed, once again, the brilliance of the magical world.
He would leave there and fight. He could no longer let the tyrant threaten the lives of the ones he loved. It had been a sobering moment.
Hermione had sighed and made an unfamiliar sound, causing Harry to turn to check on her. Their eyes met. Then…
“Harry!”
Harry blinked open his eyes and squinted at the feminine face hovering above him. It was Hermione’s concerned expression and slight shake of his shoulders that made him realize that perhaps someone was sitting on his chest. He struggled to take a breath, managing barely to utter a few words, “’Mione, you’re on my chest. I can’t… breathe.”
“I’m not sitting on you, Harry. You grabbed your chest and passed out. I’m feeling pained too. I think we ate something bad.”
Neville shook his head and knew the only way they would listen is if the diagnosis came from Madam Pomphrey.
The crowd grew, and Neville and Dean had some trouble moving the students out of the way. They needed to Floo to the infirmary, like they used to, but Neville couldn’t be certain if the Floo was hooked up in the renovations. It would take too long for them to walk Harry and Hermione across the castle without help.
Just then, he heard a thump and then a gasp. Harry’s head bumped the floor as Hermione passed out, causing chaos. It was quickly silenced with the piercing bright light erupting from Harry’s heart and colliding with Hermione’s.
Both bodies arched and flailed while he was certain that he heard children crying. It was quite a violent display of a soul bond fulfillment and wondered if it would kill both war heroines.
The door to Gryffindor tower banged open, and standing there was Professor’s McGonagall and Sinistra, looking as though they were ready for battle.
Dean took it upon himself, as the soul bonding was complete, and both Harry and Hermione were breathing normally – though not fully coherent – to acquaint the two veterans with what just happened.
OoO
Harry and Hermione sat on the couch, close together, feeling a sense of completeness and joy. Hermione was frowning a bit, as she processed what the Professors and Healer Pomphrey told them, after a diagnostic was run to confirm that they were indeed bonded and physically, they were in the best shape of their lives.
“You are, in all respects, wedded,” Professor Sinistra told the two.
Professor McGonagall nodded and watched her favorite student, absorb what was being said. “Miss Granger?”
Hermione looked up at the three and squeezed Harry’s hand. “So not heartburn?”
The end.