Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with JKR's world. I only wish I had a fraction of her ingenuity. Sigh.
Warnings! This story is AU. I came across this story in one of my old notebooks and decided it was actually kind of good and I wanted to post it before the last book comes out, but I'll warn you that I started this story before book six was ever published. Most notably that means that although this story takes place at the end of their seventh year, Dumbledore is still alive and horcruxes don't exist. This story contains SLASH between Ron and Harry. If you are offended by this then please don't read this! This story also contains CHARACTER DEATHS! I will remind you: this is a war and good people die as well as bad people. But I promise, this will not be a massacre; I just want an escape clause built in here so that when I kill someone off, you can't complain that you weren't warned in advance. Also, this story does not necessarily have a happy ending (I'm still working out the details on how it ends, so I make no promises either way).
Just in case you didn't catch it the first time, this story is AU, contains SLASH and at least two CHARACTER DEATHS, and may not end happily.
By now you have been fully warned, so I am not to be held accountable if you hate my story because you are incapable of heeding said warnings. In other words, please don't flame me! But if you have constructive criticism or want to comment, reviews are always welcome!
One final note: Although this story has slash between Harry and Ron, I would argue that this story is really about Hermione and Ron's relationship more than Harry and Ron's. Theirs (Hermione/Ron) is a relationship in JKR's series that I truly adore and intend on exploring in this story. I hope you enjoy!
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It was the evening before the much anticipated, much dreaded N.E.W.T. exams. In the Gryffindor tower, seventh year students were huddled together, swapping notes and practicing spells. All, that is, except Hermione, who sat determinedly in her own corner, more flustered than any of the rest of them. Although she had been studying for her exams for the past five months, she nonetheless seemed too distracted and agitated for anyone to approach for help.
Throughout the evening she would mutter and curse, tugging at her hair and causing poofs of some unidentifiable smoke to explode from the tip of her wand that smelled oddly liked poached herring. She kept glancing significantly at Ron and Harry, who, despite the upcoming exams seemed content enough to keep pushing their books away and whispering or entwining their fingers together under the table.
"A-hem," she cleared her throat loudly.
No one looked up.
"A-HEM!" she tried again, this time standing up abruptly, causing her books and scrolls to fall violently from her lap and onto the floor. This time all heads went up in the common room, watching her nervously, expectantly.
"I'm going to the library," she announced loudly and importantly, as if issuing a challenge.
Sever blank faces stared back at her but it was Ron who piped up. "Uh, Hermione, the library's closed now." As if to confirm what he just said, the grandfather clock began to chime midnight.
Hermione looked exasperated for a moment and then with a loud "Hmph!" she abruptly turned and huffed up to the girl's dormitory.
"What was that all about?" asked Ron to no one in particular.
"Who knows?" answered Harry. "It's the night before the N.E.W.T.s. I guess we should have expected something like this from her."
Actually, Hermione had stormed out because she could not stand watching Harry and Ron together anymore. They could not seem to keep their hands off each other even in public places and she simply could not take it one moment longer.
Her recent breakup with Viktor Krum had certainly stung, but it was Ron she still could not stop feeling for; he was supposed to be hers. She had dated Viktor because he was a decent, sincere guy who was incredibly sweet to her. But when she owned to the truth, she knew it really had started as a way to make Ron jealous and aware of his own feelings for her. Sadly that had backfired on her and for the past few years Ron had found his comfort in Harry's arms instead.
They still acted like puppy-lovers, though, and on this particular night she wanted Ron more strongly than she had in many months. Watching him with Harry was torture for her, pure and simple. She had to get away.
While Hermione was upstairs, wrestling with her emotions, back in the common room noise and clutter had once again erupted. Fifth and seventh years had returned to their frantic studying and spells were flying around the room so quickly one had to be careful walking about lest they accidentally get hit with one. But as the buzz reappeared Harry and Ron continued to sit watching the stairway up which Hermione had disappeared moments ago. Despite their feeble attempts at explaining her odd behavior, both felt a little uneasy.
"Of course she is under a lot of stress, you know," Ron muttered to Harry. "What with Viktor and the exams and all. Terrible timing, that breakup. Right before the N.E.W.T.s like that and all."
Harry nodded, slightly distracted. "Yeah, I know what you mean. But that happened a week ago now and it's not like they saw much of each other to begin with, what with Viktor being at another school all the time-"
Suddenly he cut off, gasping. He placed his left hand over his forehead as pain seared through his scar, more poignant than he had felt all year.
"Your scar hurts?" Ron asked, forgetting Hermione in his concern for his lover. "But I thought you had found a way to work through the pain."
Harry gasped again, nodding. "Y-yeah," he stammered, "but this… this I haven't felt since Voldemort came back into power." He paused again as another wave hit him, brining with it a bought of nausea. "Not since Dumbledore taught me the mastery of Occ–"
In an instant Ron had his arm around Harry, supporting his weight as he doubled over in pain again. By this time the common room had grown still, all eyes on Harry, though neither he nor Ron took any notice.
"Harry," Ron half-whispered, "Love, what is it?"
"I… don't… know." Harry stammered out.
Ron's concern grew. "I thought you always knew what You-Know-Who was feeling when you got these attacks."
Harry shook his head weakly but managed to straighten, the pain receding back to its usual dull ache as quickly as it had come, leaving Harry a bit breathless and feeling weak. "Not this time," he answered.
"Maybe you should go see Madam Pomphrey," Seamus suggested.
"You should go to Dumbledore, you should," inserted Neville. "That wasn't any ordinary pain."
Harry glanced up at his friend. "No. It's gone now. I don't want to bother him this late over a little headache."
"That was no 'little headache', mate," said Seamus.
"You're right," answered Harry, "But I'm fine now. Just really tired. I think I'll call it a night. If I don't know it by now more studying won't help. I'm not going to be able to learn anything more at this point anyway."
"I'll take him up," said Ron. "Good night, everyone."
"'Night. Hope you're feeling better in the morning!"
"Yeah. Feel better, Harry."
Harry smiled wanly at his friends. "Thanks guys. Good night. Don't stay up all night studying. It'd do no good if you're falling asleep during the exam."
A few ironic chuckles went around the table. No one doubted that were they to try to sleep it would elude each and every one of them tonight. These exams meant their future. Nevertheless voices chimed in, promising to get to bed before too long and Harry and Ron started up the stairs to their dormitory.
As they passed Ginny on the way out Harry muttered to her. "Get Hermione, would you? We need to talk to her."
Ginny nodded and dashed up the stairs to fetch Hermione as Ron helped Harry up the stairs and into bed.
Because of their ever growing friendship and the secrets they shared with one another, Ginny alone suspected why Hermione had acted so strangely earlier this evening. Her heart went out to her friend in her turmoil but she held her peace. While she adored Ron, she really thought he was a git for snubbing Hermione, intentionally or not.
She found Hermione standing by the open window, her arms crossed protectively around her and her head leaned against the cold stone in a very familiar way. Hermione was staring out over Hogwarts' grounds and to the full moon, her thoughts clearly far away.
As she heard Ginny enter she stated absently, "If I pass my N.E.W.T.s okay, they're already talking about me taking over for Professor McGonagle in a few years when she retires."
Ginny wondered at the abruptness of the statement. "It doesn't surprise me," she answered. "I believe they all call you the brightest witch of your age, ever."
Hermione scowled. "All but Draco and his goons, Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber. I'm nothing but a 'filthy little mudblood' to them." She scowled angrily. "I'll 'filthy mudblood' them!" she announced, pounding her fist into her open palm.
"Um, Hermione?" Ginny definitely did not know what she was talking about, nor where this was coming from although she shared the sentiment. As much as she sympathized, however, she had been sent here with another purpose.
"Yes Ginny?" Hermione asked, the edge not quite gone from her voice.
"Something's happened to Harry. He and Ron are in the boys' dorm and asked for you to join them. Harry won't tell anyone else what just happened. – It's his scar again." she added after a brief pause.
Suddenly Hermione's anger at the boys melted away. They still were, after all, her best friends. "Of course. Right away."
When she entered the boys' dormitory her jealousy reemerged for a fraction of a second as the first thing she saw was Ron leaning over and kissing Harry gently and tenderly. But the feeling passed quickly as she noticed how white Harry was.
"I'm here," she announced. "What happened, Harry?"
"I'm not sure," answered Harry. "I was talking with Ron about… well, about something, and suddenly I felt Voldemort."
Hermione ignored Harry's hesitation; she could well guess what they had been talking about. Sweet nothings, no doubt. "Voldemort? You saw him? Like another vision or dream?"
"No, not exactly."
Ron paled slightly. "Was it… was it like the time you, I mean You-Know-Who attacked my dad? Were you him?"
Had Harry the strength he would have snapped at Ron. It was obvious Ron still had not gotten over that incident. Briefly it crossed his mind that if Ron could not trust or forgive him yet for that then their relationship was nothing more than a sham.
Instead of voicing any of this however, he let his body sag even further into the pillow that was supporting him and said wearily, "No, nothing like that. Listen," he added quickly as he saw Hermione open her mouth to ask another question. "I don't know how exactly to describe it. One minute I was in the common room, talking with Ron and then it felt like, well, like I was being pulled backwards. But not physically. It was like I was sitting still while the common room pulled away from me. I knew I was still there, but it was like I was seeing it from a distance, through a green window. And I felt Voldemort there, in the room. It was like he was taking a knife to my head, carving my scar deeper into my head and then all I felt was pain."
"Pain?" Hermione asked, clearly confused. "Pain from your scar or pain from Voldemort? -- Oh for heaven's sakes, Ron!" she interrupted herself at Ron's wince at the name. "You of all people should be over that by now!" Hermione was cross enough with Ron as it was without adding any of this silliness to the mix.
"Sorry," mumbled Ron, glancing at Hermione before looking to Harry for his answer to Hermione's question. For some reason Hermione always made him feel so small these days.
"From neither, exactly," Harry answered, frowning. "It felt like my head was splitting apart from the seams… my scar, I mean. I've never felt anything quite like it from him before." Harry paused for a moment before taking on, "And normally when Voldemort attacks, I at least see or feel or hear something coming from him. This time, nothing."
Ron and Hermione stared at Harry, not sure how to respond.
"Well," Hermione finally asked, "What do you think it means?"
"I don't know," answered Harry. "It was like he wanted something from inside my head and didn't know of any other way to get it out."
"But what?" blurted Ron, both confused and angry, "What could he possibly need to know from you?"
"The Prophesy," whispered Hermione.
Ron looked skeptically at Hermione. "I thought you didn't believe in that sort of stuff. That it was all fluff and nonsense," he said sarcastically.
Hermione shot him a withering stare before responding. "Regardless of what I believe or not, it's obvious Voldemort does. And," she shot at Ron as he opened his mouth to counter, "I don't necessarily think it's all rubbish. There's got to be some truth behind them for there to be a whole room full of them at the Department of Mysteries. It's just all of them that Professor Trelawny makes up. She I don't believe ever uttered a single truth." Her face darkened.
Ron stared at her, mouth hanging slightly agape. "But Hermione," he started before stopping as Harry lay a hand on his arm, giving the slightest imperceptible shake of the head. Confused at why Harry stopped him, he looked to Harry for an answer then realized Harry never told Hermione who uttered the Prophesy in the first place.
Suddenly he knew why: if Hermione knew the truth, she would not put any stock into it anymore and Harry might lose the support of one of his best friends, not to mention one of the smartest witches alive, student or otherwise.
The silent exchange between Harry and Ron was not lost on Hermione. Angered, Hermione could tell that once again she was being left out of something between them that had nothing to do with their relationship. She crossed her arms, fuming and scowling at them.
"Sorry, Hermione," said Harry to calm her down, "it's nothing personal. I just can't tell you."
"Oh, but you can tell him?" she huffed, jerking her thumb and her head in Ron's direction.
"I didn't exactly tell him," answered Harry vaguely.
"Yeah Hermione," Ron interrupted, looking guilty. "I sort of dragged it from him a piece at a time. He didn't want to share even with me."
This still did not pacify Hermione and the implied secrets they shared because they were lovers only provoked her further. But she held her peace and instead abruptly changed the topic.
Looking hard at Harry she said matter-of-factly, "You need to tell Professor Dumbledore."
Harry and Ron exchanged glances. What was going on with Hermione and all these mood swings?
"No, not yet. There's no reason to run to Dumbledore every time my scar hurts."
"But Harry," Hermione objected, "this isn't like 'every time'. This is serious!"
Ron glanced at Hermione before slightly repositioning himself to look at Harry. "She's right, love. You really should tell him. He asked you to report to him any time something suspicious or out of the ordinary happens. And mate," Ron added, "This is definitely out of the ordinary."
"What, you're taking her side now, are you?" Harry asked, slightly irritated.
"Yes. I'm concerned. We're your friends, Harry. We care about you and worry about you. And Dumbledore–" Ron broke off as Harry interrupted.
"Dumbledore is really busy, teaching and running Hogwarts and the Order and all. I'll be fine."
This time it was Ron and Hermione who exchanged glances. Harry was not the only thing they were concerned about. Dumbledore might have some answers to this problem and any little opportunity that could help defeat Voldemort should be taken. The war was going badly after all. Still, it was obvious Harry was not going to change his mind, so they let the matter drop.
"Well, if you say so," said Hermione, "but promise me you'll go to him if anything like this happens again. Promise me, Harry!" she added, grabbing his arm.
Sighing, knowing he would never win this battle, Harry nodded. "I promise, Hermione."
"Good. Now we should all go to sleep. We have exams tomorrow," Hermione pointed out sensibly. "Good night!" And with that she flounced out of the room.
"Good night!" Harry and Ron called out after her retreating figure.
"Why'd she go and have to point out the exams?" Ron asked Harry miserably.
Harry smiled wanly at him. "I for one don't mind. It says that Hermione is still Hermione, despite whatever's going on with her."
"Well, there's the whole Viktor thing," said Ron, the tips of his ears turning pink. "That there's bloody poor timing."
"Why Ron!" Harry exclaimed, surprised. "I dare say!"
Ron blushed. "You know it's not like that. No one could replace you!" he murmured, tenderly brushing the hair out of Harry's eyes. He reached down and gave him a light kiss. "There's no one I'd rather be with than you."
"Not even Hermione?" Harry teased gently.
"Mmm… not even Hermione." He kissed Harry again.
"Your loyalty to her though… maybe you should have been sorted into Hufflepuff."
Ron chuckled softly, ironically. "I'm a Weasley. There's only one House we end up in."
"Yes, well, I'm glad you ended up in Gryffindor," murmured Harry, gazing deeply into Ron's eyes.
"Me too," Ron answered back, caressing Harry's face. His actions revealed Harry's scar from between his bangs. Ron frowned for a moment, staring at it. Was it redder than usual? Choosing not to say anything, he reached forward and kissed it like he had done a thousand times before, tracing the jagged scar with his tongue. He jerked back.
"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, "Your scar! It's… it's… it's warm!"
Harry grinned. "It must like your touch," he flirted, reaching for Ron once again.
Ron withdrew from his touch, a look of deep concern etched across his face. "Harry, I'm serious. I've never felt it like this before. Surely you can feel it too!"
Harry reached up and rubbed his scar. It was warm. "That's odd," he said, sounding a bit confused. "It's never been warm to the touch before. And the pain is gone now… so I don't get it!"
"Please, Harry, promise me you'll go see Dumbledore tomorrow! I couldn't bear it if anything…" Ron's voice cracked, emotions clearly breaking through.
"I know," answered Harry seriously. "I feel the same way about you. If I were in your shoes…" He sighed. "Fine. Out of love for you I will go see Dumbledore tomorrow after our first exam."
Relief flooded through Ron's face. "Good. I'm glad."
"It is odd, though," added Harry thoughtfully.
"What's odd?" asked Ron.
"Voldemort's timing. He's been quiet for months. I haven't felt him so strongly since Christmas morning – you remember? – and yet suddenly, right before I take my N.E.W.T.s, the very tests that will decide my career and life as an adult wizard, only a week before I leave Hogwarts for good… you don't find this peculiar at all?"
Ron gazed into Harry's eyes, searching them for a moment before he answered. "I don't know, love. Maybe Dumbledore will have some answers for you tomorrow."
"Yeah, maybe." Harry was doubtful, but he was also eager to get off the subject. "Now, stop distracting me. We should get some good night's sleep. We have exams tomorrow!" he said, mimicking Hermione well.
Ron grinned and lightly swatted Harry with a pillow. "Distracting, am I?" he asked. "Well, if that's the case, I'll sleep in my own bed tonight!" He made as if to move towards his bed.
"Come here, you!" Harry grabbed his arm playfully. "I will not hear of such nonsense." Pulling Ron down on top of him, Harry laughed lightly. "I wouldn't want my 'good luck charm' out of reach tonight!" With that, he kissed Ron soundly.
Ron sighed, content. Harry seemed to be back to himself again. Satisfied with this thought, he got into bed next to Harry and kissed him goodnight, his thoughts far away from the lonely girl in the next dormitory who lay awake worrying about exams, Harry, and especially thinking of the only one she had ever loved, feeling miserable and full of regrets.
To be continued...
