Chapter Text
The Room of Requirement was glowing; Patronuses of all sizes ran rampant through the tall room, traveling through awed students as they searched for danger to battle. Soft whines, crows, barks and howls filled the training ground, only stopping when the silvery animals dissolved into the air moments after being summoned.
Hermione huffed, bitterly looking at the corporeal Patronuses that were dancing around her, vividly aware that her own spell hadn’t gone past the mist stage yet. Going over the spell one more time, she did nothing but sigh tiredly as she spied the wobbly shield that sprouted from the tip of her wand.
“You have a watery form for a Patronus,” Harry’s voice interrupted her, teasing. “Congratulations.”
Hermione huffed softly. “Very funny, Harry. It would’ve been funnier if I wasn’t slightly stressed about it.”
“Slightly?”
“I’m not that stressed,” Hermione grumbled. “I just don’t understand why it’s still like this. I’ve gone through the incantation, the wand movement, the memory…I should have been able to do a corporeal Patronus by now.”
Harry smiled. “You’ll get it, Hermione. I know it. You just have to keep working at it.”
“I’ve been stuck like this for two weeks, Harry,” Hermione said, letting a bit of frustration leak into her tone while she tried to ignore the way her thoughts told her that maybe she wasn’t meant to learn the charm properly. “I really want to…I need to be prepared for anything.”
Harry regarded her carefully for a few moments, making the bushy haired girl flush under his analyzing eyes. She opened her mouth to speak again, but the teenage boy moved quickly; no standing at her back, close enough to be heard whispering, Harry sighed.
“I think you need to change your memory,” He whispered. “I used to have the same problem back when I was training with Remus.”
Hermione shook her head slowly, gazing at the other Patronuses as they pranced around the room, without turning towards Harry in an attempt to keep him ignorant of her red cheeks. “I’m alternating between my happiest memories, and none of them work.”
“I won’t ask what they are, because that is extremely private,” Harry answered quietly. “But…I think you might be forcing your memories.”
“Excuse me?” Hermione answered, incredulous.
Harry chuckled. “See Seamus, over there with his fox? He told me he tried so many different memories that didn’t work. He picked them according to the big impact on his life, but apparently he only needed to think about a normal day with his mother to be able to bring his fox out of his wand.”
“I though you didn’t ask about memories?” Hermione asked, slightly amused.
“I don’t,” Harry answered, smiling. “Seamus is just good at oversharing. The point of this is that I think you might be focusing on big, important memories when then things that make you happy might just…be incredibly normal. Or not quite real. Patronuses can sometimes be tricked by memories that aren’t completely true or real, but if it brings you happiness—”
“Harry! Colin needs help here!” A Ravenclaw student, at the other end of the room, shouted.
“Coming!” Harry answered before returning to a quiet voice and addressing Hermione. “Think about it, alright? Your happy memory might just be right in front of you.”
Before Hermione could answer or argue, she felt a gentle kiss being dropped on the back of her head, before Harry’s comforting presence disappeared. The witch released a shaky breath, cheeks warmer than ever as she went over the advice that she had been given. Her mind moved quickly, discerning the memories she had been using and categorizing fresh ones; she thought of every mundane thing that made her happy, the more current the better, and her heart stuttered quickly at thinking about the kiss she had been a receiver of no less than two minutes ago.
Hermione took a deep breath and let it out, concentrating on that memory…and the dream from Third Year that some nights still haunted her. Her wand moved swiftly through the air, the incantation was muttered, and before she knew it Hermione had a corporeal Patronus in front of her.
Small, energetic, and endearing, her Patronus manifested in the form of a very playful otter that burst from the tip of her wand into the air, swimming and cooing softly as it began to know its surroundings. Recognizing the witch from which magic it had born out of, the otter swam around Hermione and nuzzled her.
The witch giggled softly, and all of the stress she had been feeling vanish in a second as she watched her Patronus join the others in a turbulent mass of glowing magic.
“See? I told you so.” Harry said, pride evident on his voice.
Hermione turned to him, beaming smile on her face. “You were right.”
“Oh?”
“I changed memories,” She whispered, turning back to look at her otter.
“I’m glad it worked,” Harry answered, moving his wand. “But now I feel left out because everyone’s playing with their Patronuses except me.”
With that, his stag appeared, galloping around and gaining the attention of the other silvery animals. The students just stared, mesmerized by the way their magic interacted in such a fun and intimate way. No sounds were made except the soft barks, howls, whines and screams of the Patronuses as they got to know each other.
Hermione didn’t take her eyes off of her otter, feeling an incredible attachment to it as she watched the unmistakable stag approaching her Patronus; the bigger animal stared down, unmoving, before bowing to the little creature, letting it climb to its horns and rest there.
Harry’s eyebrows lifted to his hairline. “That’s new.”
“Is it bad?” Hermione asked, concerned.
Harry shrugged, still staring at the two connected Patronuses. “I don’t know…it’s just…new. I’ve never seen that before, but I don’t have much experience with the Patronus charm outside Hogwarts. I guess it’s just our magic interacting with each other.”
Hermione nodded, somewhat relieved, but one part of her mind couldn’t help but feel that their silvery animals’ interaction held a deeper meaning than they both knew.
The Patronus charm was one that Dumbledore’s Army practiced frequently, even after mastering it. If Harry was going to drill three spells into his students’ mind and body, it would be expelliarmus, protego, and expecto patronum.
Every time that they finished practicing a new spell, or the round of duels ended, Harry would instruct everyone to continue to practice the Patronus charm again, afraid of the debilitating power that dementors possessed. Each session that passed practicing the charm was one in which he saw that there was nothing to worry about because every student had dutifully learned the charm in a way that he knew he wouldn’t have to worry about them encountering the foul creatures.
Every session, also, included one event that had never failed to happen ever since all of his school mates had learned the charm: somehow, his Patronus and Hermione’s would end up inseparable.
Today, for example, the stag had galloped twice around the students and silvery animals before resting on a corner, only accompanied by the playful otter as it hang on one of its horns, cooing at the bigger animal who just stared and huffed, bumping heads with its smaller companion.
He and Hermione had tried telling them to separate, to play with the other Patronuses—and yes, he knows how that sounds, but the charms had a mind of their own, apparently—but they had been ignored completely.
Harry even dared say that Hermione’s otter and his own stag got jealous…because he saw it with his own two eyes, in two different occasions.
The first one had Cho’s swan as a victim; the mighty bird had been swimming around, eventually resting near the corner that Harry’s stag had been in. The swan had approached just as Cho herself had approached Harry, making light conversation and flirting, invading his personal space as Harry’s eyes stared at the three Patronuses gathered.
The swan swam closer and closer, up until it was beak to nose with the stag, slightly nuzzling the animal forcefully before a tiny light flew towards it and nipped it in the beak. To this day, Harry doesn’t quite know if Cho felt it, or she only saw it, because the Ravenclaw let out a high pitched sound as the swan dissolved into air quickly.
Harry, in amusement and after being scolded by Cho, spied the way Hermione’s otter stood on his stag’s head, calm and looking across the room. Oddly, when its silvery eyes landed on him, the otter chittered and moved one of her arms up, swinging side to side as if it was…waving?
Harry, stunned, waved back.
The second incident was a little more embarrassing. Everyone was having a good practice when a ghostly, high pitched scream reached the student’s ears, and every single one of them turned to the sound as they watched Hermione’s unmistakable otter run as fast as it could, a familiar dog nipping at its heels.
“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, next to him. “Tell your dog to stop!”
Ron, from the other side of the room, threw his hands up in a surrender. “He’s just playing! He likes your otter!”
“He’s scaring her!” Hermione retorted quickly, eyes following the path of escape that the otter was trying to carve for herself, unsuccessful.
“He’s a Jack Russell Terrier,” A Hufflepuff student supplied quickly. “I have one back at home. They’re known for chasing small animals, and I guess Hermione’s otter falls in that category…”
“See!” Ron exclaimed, smiling nervously. “He’s just playing!”
“Tell your dog to stop, Ron, or I’ll—” Hermione’s threat stopped short when a cry and whine broke the argument.
All eyes turned to where the dog and otter had last been seen; instead of watching as the dog cornered the otter, as everyone thought he’d do, they were met with a slightly funny scene.
Ron’s dog Patronus, with his tail between his legs and slightly trembling, stared up at the imposing form of Harry’s stag, who was pointing his very sharp horns down at the smaller being. Hermione’s otter, now free of being chases, was sitting down on the stag’s back as if nothing had happened, happily watching her surroundings in curiosity.
“Oi!” Ron exclaimed, turning to Harry. “Tell your stag to stop!”
The black haired boy sighed. “He just helped the otter out, Ron. Your dog almost ate her.”
“He was playing!”
Harry’s stag huffed menacingly one last time, and the Jack Russell shook himself, stared up at the bigger animal, and ran away barking happily as if he hadn’t just been threatened. Luna’s hare joined him, and soon everyone forgot about the bizarre scene as they went back to their own thing.
Hermione and he exchanged stares, confused, as the stag and otter nuzzled each other before prancing around with the other silvery animals.
Touching a Patronus was either an incredibly mundane, forgettable experience, or one of the most beautiful things you’d ever feel in your life.
By definition and usefulness, Patronuses are a representation of the caster’s happiness, taking the form of a guardian which job is to fight dementors with the magic that gives birth to them, effectively being incredibly protective of their wizards and witches.
Hermione hadn’t intent on feeling anything when, during another normal practice session which was spent marveling at her otter, Harry’s stag had come to stand next to her and leaned in.
She had acted out of a reflex, moving her hand to caress the top of the stag’s head, expecting to feel the same kind of vapor-like texture that Patronuses exuded. Instead, Hermione’s hand was enveloped in what she could only describe a sunshine; not the kind that burns and tires, but the kind that warms your insides and makes promises of better days.
Hermione gasped when the warmth traveled from her hand to her arm and into her chest, drawing the attention of several students and of Harry, who quickly jogged to her side in concern. His stag shook its head and leaned in for more, whining softly.
“Hermione,” Harry breathed, shooing his stag backwards. “Are you okay?”
Hermione startled before smiling nervously. “Yes, I’m—I’m fine, Harry.”
The black haired boy nodded slowly and reluctantly, throwing a suspicious glare at his Patronus; the stag returned the stare fearlessly, huffing and shaking his head, eventually walking away to socialize with the other animals and search for his constant companion.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Harry asked again, staring at her face.
“Yes!” Hermione laughed, breathily. “I just wasn’t prepared by how…joyful you Patronus felt.”
“Oh,” Harry answered, dumbly, looking between his stag and his best friend. “…Wait…you felt my…?”
“Your memory must be very powerful,” Hermione interjected, beaming. “The happiness it brings you…”
Before Harry could answer, Ginny came over and insisted that she need to speak with Hermione about an urgent matter. Harry frowned, confused, but shrugged when his best friend nodded and followed after the redhead. The black haired boy turned back to stare after his Patronus; the stag, to no one’s surprise, was playing around with the otter, both of them communicating through soft and barely heard sounds.
Hermione didn’t even have time to question the younger Weasley before the redhead eyes her suspiciously.
“What do you mean you felt Harry?”
Hermione bristled at the accusatory tone, and blushed softly at the wording of the question. “I didn’t feel Harry, Ginny. I felt his Patronus…you could say I felt what his memory means to him.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need a happy memory to create a Patronus,” Hermione entered lecture more, speaking efficiently. “What I felt was the…fondness, if you will, that Harry has for the memories that fuel his Patronus. It was…mesmerizing.”
Ginny arched her eyebrow, a suspicious glint on her eyes. “What was it, then?”
“What was what?”
“Harry’s memory.”
Hermione frowned. “I didn’t see it, I just know that it’s very dear to him, whatever it is.”
Whatever question or argument that Ginny wanted to make was cut short by the way Hermione’s otter swam between them, slightly blinding the two girls as the small animal landed on her caster’s shoulder. Unsurprisingly, just a few steps behind the otter, Harry’s stag could be seen making his way towards the two witches.
Hermione didn’t say anything, still reeling from the incredibly feeling that the stag had gifted her with, but her eyes followed Ginny as the younger girl walked cautiously towards the magnificent stag. The animal did nothing but stare at the human, whose hands tentatively came to caress the stag’s head.
Hermione knew that Ginny had felt nothing when the redhead’s eyes turned sharply towards her, full of bitterness and jealousy, before she walked off to the other end of the room. Hermione sighed inaudible, feeling the warmth of the stag as it nuzzled her arm slowly.
Sirius’ death affected Harry so much that he didn’t even touch his wand all summer, much less do his homework or think too hard about magic.
Hermione’s worried eyes had been on him every second of the welcoming feast, making Harry both exasperated because he wanted to be alone to grieve, and guilty because he could see how his unresponsive state was causing her to worry too much for him.
Every time he thought about speaking to her, his eyes would zero in on the angry red scar whose tip could be seen on the witch’s neck. Madam Pomfrey was doing her best, Hermione had explained, but Dolohov’s curse had been as dark as they come. It was a miracle she was alive.
So Harry resigned himself to grieve alone, bypassing curfew to sit on an abandoned classroom with only the moonlight for a companion as his eyes watered, remembering the shocked smile on his godfather’s face as he fell through the veil.
It seemed that hours had passed before his eyes squeezed shut due to an unforeseeable and blinding light; when his pupils adjusted, Harry’s jaw dropped slightly as he watched a very familiar otter swim slowly towards him, chattering.
The otter stopped and stood on his bent knees, staring at him as she cocked her head to the side, whining. Harry sighed, but couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful sight of the Patronus, and his hand moved to scratch at the animal’s head.
The moment his skin made contact with the magic of the Patronus, Harry experienced a rush of positive emotions so overwhelming that made his chest stutter in the best way possible; his breathing caught in his throat as the tears he had tried to keep away finally flooded over.
It took him a minute, or five, to calm down enough to look at the Patronus again, and Harry now felt incredibly and extraordinarily happy just gazing at the otter, who nuzzled his cheeks before swimming away to the entrance.
Fearing that Hermione was just outside, Harry dried his tears and composed himself before following the silvery animal, only to realize that there was no one in the hallway except for the Patronus.
Hermione’s otter would constantly speak to him—meaning that she’d make little noise here and there, along with the occasional nuzzle—on their way back to the Common Room, and even distracted the Fat Lady so that Harry could enter the tower after giving the password without having the portrait snitch on him with Filch.
Harry, just as the portrait closed, turned to watch the otter; it chittered at him one more time before swimming to one of the sofas in the Common Room, where a very familiar bushy haired witch was waiting, an open book on her lap that was being ignored as she gazed at him.
“Harry,” Hermione whispered. Behind her, the otter, moved her head between the two humans before chirping and dissolving.
“Hey,” He said, his voice hoarse as he walked over and took a seat next to her. “You sent her?”
Hermione nodded, and closed the book, speaking softly. “Yes. I thought maybe…I thought it would help. Your stag was…he was this mass of sunshine and happiness for me, and I was hoping that my otter would be at least half of that for you.”
“She was,” Harry nodded, sniffing. “More than that, she…Your memory must be incredible to be able to produce that intensity.”
Hermione thought of green eyes, soft lips, messy hair and the smell of polished wood and leather that Harry always seemed to carry around, and she smiled indulgently.
“It is,” She answered, head turned down to hide her flush. “I…It’s very dear to me.”
“I felt like that,” Harry stated. “Warm, comforting, safe…”
Hermione snapped her head up; Harry was staring at the fire, his aura of sorrow now accompanied by a subdued happiness. His hair was messier than usual, as if he had grabbed it one too many times, and in the glint of the fire she could spy the redness of his eyes.
“Hey,” She whispered, her hand traveling from her lap towards his shoulder, squeezing softly and rubbing as he turned to her. “Harry…I’m here. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” He muttered, getting up from the couch and staring once more at the fire, before returning his attention to his best friend. The scar was more perceptible in the orange light of the fire, and Harry had half a mind to make up an excuse and leave Hermione in a show of guilt, but as he met her eyes he knew that he’d stay with her, down here, drowned in a wave of emotions that he hadn’t let himself feel.
He sat down again, dropping his weight heavily and closer to Hermione than before, leaning against her in a way that made it so that his head was cradled between her shoulder and neck. A hand quickly made its way to the back of his shoulders, pulling him closer as his breaths turned shakier.
“Thank you,” Harry murmured. “For everything.”
Hermione smiled and dropped a kiss on his head, saying no words as Harry sat there at the mercy of his feelings. The last thought he had before falling asleep on her arms was that Hermione’s embrace felt just like her otter’s touch.
Harry was dragged away from Dumbledore’s still body by McGonagall herself.
“Come quickly,” She urged, her hand closed tight around his robes. “The Burrow is prepared to receive you right now.”
Several shouts and the rumble of an explosion stopped Harry from answering immediately, but he followed behind the professor while throwing glances behind him. “Hermione and Ron—”
“—Have already been let out by Filius,” McGonagall answered, ushering him inside the walls of her office and barricading the door. “You need to leave now, come, the floo is ready.”
“The students,” Harry spoke, refusing to move from his spot. “I can’t leave them like this!”
“Professors Flitwick and Slughorn are taking them into Hogsmeade and the Express with the help of the entire faculty,” McGonagall answered, throwing a handful of green powder and muttering Burrow into the fire. “The Death Eaters are looking for you, Harry. Your fellow students will be fine in our hands, I promise. For now, you need to leave and return to Privet Drive where they can’t hurt you. I’ll be in contact.”
She gave Harry no time before dragging him in front of the fire, rustling her pockets as the ominous silence of Hogwarts was only broken by running footsteps and cruel cackles. Eventually, McGonagall deposited a piece of paper on his hand, closing his fist around it and ushering him into the fire.
“Professor—”
“Give that to Miss Granger,” McGonagall said. “She’ll know what it is and what to do with it. Tell her it’s from…From Albus.”
Next thing Harry knew, he was swallowed by green fire and spinning until his body slammed against hard wood. Two sets of hands grabbed at his arms and tugged, and the black haired boy struggled until the voice of his best friends reached his ears.
“It’s us, mate,” Ron said, righting Harry up. “Calm down.”
“Harry, are you okay?” Hermione asked, hands softly turning his head in all directions and searching for any sign of pain.
“I’m fine,” He nodded. “Are you? I lost you in the middle of the battle.”
“Your liquid luck saved our arses, to be honest,” Ron sighed, relieved.
Harry had no time to answer before a shrill ‘Harry, dear!’ interrupted the conversation; Mrs. And Mr. Weasley came over, fussing over their children and Harry and Hermione as they questioned what had happened and their involvement in it. By the time their conversation was over, Harry had been given his trunk—apparently sent over by Dobby—and told to follow Arthur, since the Weasley would be escorting him back to Privet Drive.
As he was saying his goodbyes, he deliberately left Hermione last so that he could deliver the message. As he left her embrace, he signaled at her to wait as he searched his jeans’ pocket.
“Here,” Harry whispered, smoothing out the crumpled piece of parchment he had been given by his head of house. “McGonagall told me to give you this. She said you’d know what it was and what to do with it, and that it was from…Dumbledore.”
The witch took a breath, taking the parchment with confusion as her eyes read over the words written. She nodded silently and gave him one last fierce hug and a kiss on the cheek before Arthur was forced to drag Harry away, nervous about the fact that he was exposed without protection.
Harry arrived at Privet Drive in the middle of the night, sitting on his bed and looking out of his window while wondering how everything had gone so wrong so quickly.
0o0o0o0o
The first few weeks of summer lonely and sorrowful.
Harry figured that the reason why there was no owl post for him had been similar to Fifth Year: protection. The few letters he sent had gone mostly unanswered, except for the short note that Hermione had answered with: I’m sorry I can’t tell you much through here, but know that I’m working on something that’ll hopefully allow us to communicate safely through the summer.
Harry had been relieved that she had, at least, written something to him, no matter how short or cryptic it was. He had concentrated on doing his chores and taking care of himself as he waited for whatever it was that Hermione was working on.
The answer came a normal Wednesday night, right before he succumbed to sleep.
A soft, silvery light glowed on his darken room, and Harry sat up on his bed with anxious eyes as he spied the ball of light tremble and become…an otter!
A very familiar otter.
Harry sat up straighter on his bed as the otter found him, swimming closer and standing on his bed, looking up at him with bright blue eyes as he leaned closer to caress the Patronus.
He stopped immediately when the otter began to speak with Hermione’s voice.
“Hello Harry,” The otter has her mouth open, standing still as the message was delivered. “I hope you get this. Professor Dumbledore didn’t specify if the Patronus had a limit on how long of a journey they can make, or if my message might be cut to something more practical and to the point.”
Harry heard a sigh and a rustle before Hermione’s voice continued. “This is what I’ve been working on. Professor Dumbledore developed a way of communicating through the Patronus charm. The parchment that you gave me were his explicit instructions on how to, let’s say, ‘train’ your Patronus to record your voice and deliver your message, word by word. The Order had been adamant that we don’t communicate with you through owl mail due to the safety reasons, but I’ve been told you’ll be hearing from them very, very soon. I’m teaching Ron, Ginny, Fred and George on how to send messages with their own Patronuses, and I’ll make sure to teach you, too, next time we see each other. In the meantime, please stay safe. Take care of yourself. Do everything to stay alive. Love, Hermione.”
The otter closed its mouth, now empty of words, and swam around Harry’s head and bumping his cheek before dissolving into thin air. The teenager sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes, a part of him wondering if he had been dreaming awake…but the warm touch that the Patronus had left on his cheek, and that lingered until morning, told him otherwise.