A/N: I don't know what to say for myself. I really don't. I sat down to write Transfiguration of the Heart, Bk 2, but this is what happened. Harry and Hermione took the forefront and made me write a story about them. Severus was thankful for the reprieve, as he says that TotH is over with (he got laid, and that's all we need to know, apparently), but agreed to make appearances in this story. I argued with him, so we started working on another SS/HG story that will be up soon. In the mean time, though, you will have this to tide you over if you enjoy Harry and Hermione together.
I suppose you could say my fandom is Hermione/any other virile male character. I could conceivably place her with anyone in the fandom and make it believable (bar old guys like Dumbledore and Filch, or half giants). I enjoy Severus and Hermione more than any of the other ones, but there are other ships I enjoy with Hermione- Draco, Lucius, Ron... You get the picture.
Here's to my fans and to any new ones I hope to get from this story. I love you all and hope that you enjoy this.
Title: Every Little Thing
Rating: Mature
Summary: Without Dumbledore, the Order knows that the only way to combat Voldemort and his Death Eaters is through a tightly-knit front. As the threat of the Final Battle looms ever closer, relationships are forged and strengthened out of necessity. However, when friendship begins to mean more than it might have in the past for Harry and Hermione, causing a rift between the Savior of the Wizarding World and his best friend, it could prove deadly.
Complete/In Progress: In Progress
Prologue
The Boy Who Lived moved stealthily through a very dark number twelve, Grimmauld Place so as not to wake any of its inhabitants—paintings, wizards or witches. It was the fifth straight night that he could not find some miniscule relief in a restorative sleep, and he found that the only thing that could keep him from harming himself during the long, lonely hours of the night was to traverse the house as many times as possible. It offered him some solitude to know that he was acting a guard to those he loved above all else sleeping soundly in their rooms, even if he were being guarded himself; there was certainly no comfort for him considering what he would have to face in the coming year against Voldemort. He felt powerless against the Dark Magic, even if he knew that he was only person who could ultimately defeat it. Protecting this safe house, though, was something he could control and see to it that all who resided there would be protected so long as they wished.
Every so often he would run into a few of the Order members sitting watch. Moody usually took the late evening shift, but Harry often wondered why exactly, considering that it was not uncommon to find the haggard wizard leaning precariously back in a wooden chair, teetering on the edge of an abrupt, waking jolt to the living world. Tonight Moody sat guard, at his self-appointed spot in the kitchen, but it was not late enough for his eye to begin to shut. As Harry passed through the room, he felt the magical eye following him, making him move more quickly to another door to escape the penetrating gaze. He escaped into the hallway leading toward he study, and found that the door stood open a small bit, an orange glow seeping out into the long corridor.
Not wanting to disturb whoever was in the room, Harry crept along the wall toward the crack and peeked inside. Finding no one on first inspection, he pressed his ear against the door to see if he could hear anything else. There had been times he had walked in on a few trysting couples recently, and he did not care to interrupt any of that again… especially if it was Remus and Tonks. Harry shivered at the reminder of walking in on that sight, but pushed through the door anyway. Long shadows on the wall danced about with each flickering flame, but there was definitely no one around.
Then he heard the soft breathing coming from the settee facing the warm fire and inched closer, peering over the edge to find a supine, bushy-haired witch laying sound asleep on the cushions. A well worn book with multiple dog ears and discolorations on the leather binding lay open on her chest as though she had set the tome down for a moment to absorb what she had just read, but ended up unable to keep her eyes open. There were ink smudges on the side of her lightly freckled nose, and some on her manicured hands. Nothing seemed to have changed over the years since he had met her. Well, there were the obvious changes. She was much taller, not as gangly, her teeth had been fixed after an unfortunate jinx gone awry, and she had thinned out. Actually, thinned out everywhere but her chest. Whether he saw her as a sister or not was irrelevant, there was no denying the fact that she no longer a girl, or even a young lady. She was a woman, and sometimes it was hard to internalize this fact, especially when she adopted her opinionated, know-it-all attitude. In that fact alone, Hermione Granger had not changed.
Gently reaching down for the book, he picked it up and closed it carefully, reading the title. Ornithology For The Amateur Bird Watcher. A "light" read for Hermione, no doubt, but by judging from the thickness of the book and that much of it was written in scientific terms, he knew it really was not. She had been searching all her waking hours for some clue on how they were going to defeat Voldemort. While the book he held most likely did not aide in that research, he had a feeling that the other Dark Magic books on the floor beside her did.
"You should be at Hogwart's, Hermione," he said softly, placing the book on top of the pile. She whimpered as though in response, but stayed soundly asleep. He smiled.
Their seventh year had indeed started, and all three were visiting school regularly for classes. It had been the middle of the summer holiday when all three had decided that they would stick together and that they indeed (despite everything that happened with Dumbledore) needed each other and needed to stay in the school for this last year. It had been suggested many times by a few close members of the Order that Hogwart's might be the site of the final stand. In the back of his head, he knew that as well, but he had tried to move it away from innocent kids who did not deserve to get caught up in it all. However, at least at Hogwarts, he had more magic going for him than at any other place. And if anything, it was the one place that really felt like home to him, even now without Dumbledore.
Yet, it was not a typical year for him. He did not sleep in the seventh-year boys dormitory of Gryffindor Tower, and instead traveled to Grimmauld Place each evening by the order of Professor McGonagall. Hermione and Ron had the option of staying in the dormitories, especially seeing as Hermione was Head Girl and had her own room, but each of them had been favoring coming home with him each evening rather than being away from him. They were his personal bodyguards, or so he liked to call them, and would not let him go anywhere alone. They would walk with him to the entrance of Hogwarts where a few Aurors, usually Tonks and Kingsley, would meet them. They would then Disapparate to Grimmauld. There they would sleep until the following day, only to do it all over again in the exact same order.
Harry could not help but feel, though, that he was robbing Hermione of her true loves—learning and being in class. Sure she would attend lectures and practical sessions, but it definitely was not the same. Indeed, he saw the sadness in her eyes every time she met up with him at their appointed location, instead of spending an extended night reading in the library under Madam Pince's watchful eyes. It was probably only her sense of duty that kept her so attached to him.
He had considered on more than one occasion abandoning this house, and going to Hogwarts for her sake, but had always been overruled. No one else would ever be able to find this hide out, except those that Dumbledore had told before he died. It was virtually the safest place he could be unless Snape decided to appear and muck everything up.
"I'm not going to vanish into thin air, Harry," she muttered softly.
Glass-covered green eyes met dark brown and chuckled. "Sorry."
"What are you doing up?" she asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning, willing her mind to rejoin her in the waking world.
"I couldn't sleep," he said. She sat up and patted the seat beside her. He took her invitation, and settled down into the seat before wrapping an arm around her to pull her to him.
Hermione chuckled lowly and rested her head on his shoulder. "I remember a time when I couldn't sit next to you for fear of being accused of liking boys."
Harry laughed, "No kidding. Ron and I weren't any better with girls."
"At least you've grown out of the silly fear of interaction with the opposite sex," Hermione remarked, stretching her legs out to lay some more of her weight against him.
"Oh, give him some time, Hermione," he said. "He's just confused. And if he still hasn't gotten it together by Christmas, I'll knock some sense into him."
She giggled. "Would you please?"
"Anything for you," he laughed.
Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. "So how does it feel to be in between us?"
"Like I could kill both of you," he joked and glanced down at her. She smiled faintly and snuggled closer to him.
"To be truthful," she said quietly, pausing for a moment. "I'm not so sure I would welcome his advances anymore."
Harry looked down at her, completely startled. While they had never really discussed Hermione's feelings for Ron, or Ron's feelings for Hermione (Ron had not every really discussed it with him, except to complain about Hermione being uptight or moody), this was not something he had ever expected Hermione to say. As far as he was concerned, they had loved each other from the moment Hermione had burst into their cabin at Hogwarts Express looking for Trevor. To hear her say now that she was not necessarily relishing the thought of being together with Ron was earth shattering. It would devastate Ron.
"You can't be serious," he said, flabbergasted. "It's taken six years to get this far!"
Hermione sighed. "We're different people now, Harry. People change and grow apart. Some grow closer together."
"But…" he stopped himself.
"I love him, don't get me wrong," she continued. "I'm not necessarily in love with him any longer."
Harry was silent for a few moments, considering this. Naturally something like this would happen when he needed all three of them together and united the most. "Why don't you just tell him that?"
"Have you ever tried to make him see sense before?" she questioned, smiling at him as he thought back to their fourth year. "See? It's not that easy when he's being an obstinate prat."
"Is he being an obstinate prat?"
"Well, no, I haven't even told him... but…" She rolled her eyes at him. "I know, I know!"
"I didn't say anything."
Hermione pursed her lips together. "He'll have a grudge for the longest time, Harry. That could ruin everything we've worked for and I'm not going to bring it up. Part of me hopes that he doesn't get over his fear of touching me so I won't have to bring it up."
"I've never been so glad that I'm not a girl. Why is everything always so grey with you girls? Why not black and white?" said Harry quietly, chuckling softly.
She pinched his leg. "You know, you're lucky I like you."
Silence found them, Harry not wanting to bring up any more about Ron and Hermione's relationship. As much as he loved both of them, he had a difficult enough time figuring out his own heart without trying to give relationship or life advice to others. Perhaps after the war he might be able to fix everyone else's problems, but as he was worrying about the ultimate problem, he knew that it would be useless. Hermione seemed to realize this as well, and they remained sitting together and quietly watching the lapping fire until it had died down to embers and he noticed a gradual decrease in her respirations. Slowly getting up from his spot, he maneuvered his wand out of his pocket and muttered a spell to reignite the fire to its former splendor.
"Sleep well, Hermione," he muttered, leaving her to her dreams.
---
Severus Snape sat atop his lofty perch in an old birch outside the grounds where number twelve, Grimmauld Place should have rested had it not been under spells to hide it. This was his third week sitting in this spot contemplating the empty space between numbers eleven and thirteen, Grimmauld Place and what next he might do to get back into the good graces of the Order. For a man who had killed one of the magical world's most beloved wizards—their leader—he had a limited area to accomplish this.
Indeed, he had the evidence he needed to prove his innocence; all he need do was walk into that house and give it to them. They would see what happened, and why it had to happen. They would hear it come from Dumbledore's own mouth. He knew, though, that the likelihood of even getting a word in before he had been cast in a full body bind, or worse yet, had been the subject of an Avada Kedavra, was slim to none. Entering their headquarters would have to be done swiftly and come as such a surprise that they were unable to render a fight for that brief moment he needed.
It had been five months since his egregious infraction, and he was ready to come back to the Light to help, no matter how much they could not stand him on personal levels. They needed to know the truth, Potter needed to know how to defeat Voldemort, and he needed food and a warm place to sleep.
Luckily, the brightest witch of the age was living up to her title.
