I'd Do Anything For Love...
The mood in the Great Hall was desperately somber, and the quiet spoke volumes. The hushed talking between each table was a far cry from the usual cat-calling and yelling that arose. Even the Slytherin table seemed depressed. Losing a student would do that to a school.
Harry kept his head down, and miserably stirred his soup with his spoon, not hungry in the slightest. He kept his head down right the way through dinner, until Professor Dumbledore sighed loudly, and stood up.
"Cedric Diggory," he spoke "was always a happy student. He brought joy to many, and seldom brought sadness to others. He helped those in need of it, and those he did not know, because he was a kind-hearted gentleman. That type of a man is rare these days, and it is a tragedy to have had him torn from us so suddenly."
"After a long discussion with Minister Fudge, I can confirm that Hogwarts will remain open. It has been concluded that as death's are unfortunately common within the TriWizard Tournament, that the school was not at fault." Dumbledore held up a hand to silence the light hubbub that had arisen, and his eyes hardened slightly as he spoke his next peice. "Now I know that many of you suspect foul play on behalf of Mr. Potter, but questioning under Veritaserum and a thorough Ministry Investigation have proven beyond a shadow of doubt that Mr. Potter had absolutely nothing to do with this death. I am shocked and disappointed that so many of you jumped to believe that he, or any other student of this school could even fathom such a course of action."
Harry snorted loudly. "Don't be."
The room fell silent, and Harry felt every eye turn to him, something he had unfortunately gotten used to with his unwanted fame. Unwanted eyes, and unwanted ears, but this time, he needed them. He stood up in his chair, chuckling darkly. "They wouldn't know the difference between a murderer and a chair even if the murderer had a bleeding placard around their neck."
The silence in the hall was deafening.
"I mean, it's miraculous the things I've heard about myself for example. I must learn something new everyday. There must only be about thirty or so people in here who were close to Cedric, and are genuinely traumatised by this, and my heart goes out to them. Most people, however, could give less of a crap. They're just being polite and we all know this. Cedric was an amazing person, and every person who goes around in the halls proclaiming he was their best friend is a disgrace to his memory and everything he stood for."
"As I was saying, this isn't the first time the students of this simply amazing institute has thrown me under the bus because it was easier than an in depth investigation, you know, how it should be done. Now, the beginning of this year, even my second year here for God's sake. I have never met a group of more judgmental people in my life before I came here."
"Maybe if you stopped seeking attention, and stopped trying to be a part of everything that is slightly out of sync in this school, you might not have this problem." Snape stood up, foaming. "Now, for instance. We want to respect and mourn for our dead, but you stand up like you own the place. This doesn't give you power. This doesn't make you wealthy. Just stop it, Potter, and give us a chance to mourn Mr. Diggory. Maybe you could sit down, and think about a wise and productive old age, instead of wasting your youth, by being such an attention seeker! Your father would have done the exact same thing, inconsiderate to his surroundings and only out to further himself!"
Harry stared him down, and the whole hall stared in shock. Evryone knew of Snape's treatment of Harry, but it had never escalated this far. While Harry usually would have backed down at that, he was too full of rage at how the school treated him and how Snape thought it was okay to use Cedric as an excuse to rip on him, as per usual. "Calm it there, bat. Don't you dare use Cedric Diggory as an excuse to have your little jibes at me." Harry said in a voice full of rage, before turning around and walking out.
The fourth year boy's dormitory was unsurprisingly empty. Most of the occupants were at the leaving feast that Harry had just walked out on.
Harry Potter scanned the room briefly just to make sure none of his belongings were where they weren't supposed to be, and satisfied that they weren't, he began to pack his trunk for the inevitable return to the Dursleys. He started with his broomstick, and the next thing he knew, he was placing a folded up tie on a full trunk.
He wasn't leaving Hogwarts the same person he had entered it as, and though it had come under terrible circumstances, and at a terrible cost, he felt he was better off for it. Cedric's death made the return of Voldemort all the more real to him, and reminded him that this wasn't a game of chess, or a logic puzzle to get through some fire, or a flying key. This was a war, and this was real, and there were casualties.
He packed some basic clothes into a rucksack he planned on taking with him to change into on the train, and then turned around and left the room, all the while trying to think about what he was supposed to do in a war. Sure, Cedric's death had made this all the more real, but he was still scared as hell. Fourteen year old boy's are not supposed to be in wars, let alone the target of magic wizard Hitler.
The common room wasn't very busy either, though a couple of sixth and third years were milling about the place. The common room fell silent as the occupants noticed him however, and that just made it worse. Some blamed him for the death of another student, and others didn't know what to say. Nobody was really sure what had happened yet, with Voldemort returning and he doubted they were going to find out until it was published in the Daily Prophet in a couple of days.
Hermione came through the portrait hole, presumably returning from the Great Hall where she had spent the majority of her evening. She looked as beautiful as ever.
She didn't speak as she approached him, and didn't speak when she got near. She didn't say a single word, even as she wrapped him up in one of her one-of-a-kind tight 'Hermi-hugs.' There was nothing that needed saying at that moment, and he just nestled his head into her shoulder. He didn't cry, and neither did she. They just stood there for a few minutes, gently rocking from side to side as they embraced.
"I'm not going to ask if you're OK," Hermione whispered to him, seemingly unaware of the common room that had awkwardly turned away. "because I know you aren't. I hope you know I'm always here for you."
"I'm sorry 'Mione." Harry mumbled into her shoulder. "I don't know what came over me tonight."
"It's OK Harry."
Hermione tried to let go of him, but Harry clutched her tighter, and now his tears started rolling. "Don't go," he croaked. "Please don't go. I need you to stay Hermione. Just talk to me."
Hermione stopped instantly, and again wrapped him in one of her hugs. "Of course Harry. What do you want me to talk about?"
"Absolutely anything." Harry whispered, just needing to get his mind off everything he had been through in the past eighteen hours. Just needing to cope with what he had seen, and heard and done. Just needing to hear Hermione's comforting voice.
And so Hermione did, and they sat down on a sofa in the common room and she quietly chatted away to him about anything that sprang to her mind. She told him about what she had been reading about at the library, what Crookshanks had been up to that morning, what her plans for the holiday were, or lack there of them. She told him her favourite colour, and about how she wanted to change the wizarding world to be more accepting of muggles and muggleborns as she grew up. She told him her ambitions, and Harry listened to each and every single thing she had to say, without saying a single word of his own. There were times the conversation, if it could be called that, lapsed into silence, but Hermione always found something interesting to tell him about, and always found a way to keep that velvety smooth voice of hers to continue. They must have sat like that for a few hours at least, as by the time they stood up, the common room was completely empty.
After a quiet goodnight, and another hug, they separated and made their way towards their respective dormitory's. Hermione lay in her bed that night, and all she could think about was Harry. He seemed damaged and different after the third task, and she could only hope that it wasn't permanent. She briefly wondered if there was ever a time when she didn't worry about Harry.
'I need you to stay Hermione.' Those words reverberated around her head, and with each her worry increased ten-fold. She wished she could help him, but knew that whatever had happened to him couldn't be unseen. He hadn't fully opened up about what had happened, and only the basics, that being Voldemort's return, and Cedric's death.
She could tell that a lot more had happened that he simply didn't want to let her in on, and that both upset her and annoyed her. Upset beacause she felt it meant that he couldn't trust her, and annoyed because she felt it her business to look after her Harry, which she couldn't do if he didn't tell her anything. She suddenly felt a pang of guilt, knowing that he probably wasn't telling anybody because it was too terrible. She bit her lip nervously, and after about half an hour, fell into a fitful and restless sleep.
Hermione woke late on the last day of school, and though she had packed everything a couple of nights ago, she still rushed her morning routine, leaving her with absolutely nothing to do as she stepped out of the shower. She got changed and sat cross-legged on her bed, fiddling with her wand. Harry had scared her last night, whether he had meant to or not, and she wanted to be with him. However she just needed a moment.
A dark hand emerged from the door and pushed it open, revealing the pretty Parvati Patil who wore a smile on her face. "Hey Hermione, Dumbledore wants to talk to you. Dunno why, but he said it was important."
Hermione started slightly, but managed to fix a smile onto her face quick enough, before Parvarti started asking questions. "Ok, thanks. Did he say what time, or do I just go now?"
Parvarti shrugged. "He didn't say anything about the times, so I'd assume you can go whenever, but I'd go now if you want to get a good seat on the Express. I think it's about Harry's little speech last night."
Hermione walked downstairs and out of the common room, dissapointed to see Harry wasn't down yet. She had mixed feelings where her best friend was concerned, and wasn't fully sure how to deal with them. She knew he was her best friend and she would do anything for him, but he needed to let her in.
She made her way through the cold stone corridors, and eventually reached the stone gargoyle that signified Dumbledore's office, which made her mouth dry. She had only been here a couple of times and every single time she felt the same way, even though she had yet to be here because she was in trouble.
She had just realised she didn't know the password when the gargoyle leapt to the side, with the speed and energy of a child, scaring the life out of her. She climbed the stairs, nervously biting her lip, and knocked on Dumbledore's door gently.
"Come in," came his grandfatherly voice.
Hermione pushed open the door, and walked towards him, a thousand questions on her tongue, but she bit them back, waiting for what he had to say.
"Now my dear," he began, stirring a mug of tea gently with a teaspoon. "I wish to suggest something to you, but I implore you tell me what is on you're mind first. You are clearly troubled by something, and I fear it is the same thing that troubles me."
"I'm worried about my Harry, sir!" Hermione blurted out. "He's not himself, and I know it hasn't been long enough for him to adjust to that night, but I'm worried the damage might be permanent. I mean, just look at last night! Harry is quiet, and calm and he doesn't do that! Then when he came to the common room last night, he seemed so...so...so broken!"
Dumbledore smiled at her, and took a delicate sip from his mug, and set it back down. "I must agree with you, Miss. Granger. Harry was acting extremely out of character last night, and was clearly not responding well to the presence of others. This is where my suggestion comes in." He sighed slightly, and sat at his desk. "It is with a heavy heart that I suggest that you and Mr. Weasley do not contact him for the summer, and give him the space he clearly needs to revert back to normal. What he saw was not for young eyes, and he needs to be alone to process it."
"With all due respect sir, I disagree. He needs to be around other people so that he can talk about what he has seen, and come to terms with it properly. I think that locking him away by himself is the worst choice you could make." Hermione argued pointedly.
"My dear, I know you hunger for knowledge, but you need to be more sensitive to the subject matter." Hermione turned away, blushing red, suitably chastened. She wasn't really digging for information, but Professor Dumbledore just stared at her, and it felt like he had looked right into her soul. "A feeling of being crowded, even by those loving and supportive will not help Harry with his grief. He needs to mourn for Cedric alone, in his own way. As his little outburst last night has shown, he is not well."
Hermione folded her arms grumpily. "Sir, I'm not going to tell you how to do your job, but what are you doing about Professor Snape? You heard him last night, and you're a smart man. You know he was using Cedric's death to get at Harry, and that is bang out of order."
Dumbledore smiled at her again. "Correct Hermione, I did pick up on his not so veiled insults, and he will be severely reprimanded." His eyes seemed to harden slightly at the thought of it, but maybe it was a trick of the light because it was gone a second later. "But we are getting off topic. The last thing Harry needs is to be reminded that somebody somewhere is tolling a bell for Cedric's funeral, and I feel that this would happen if he were to be reminded of it by yourself and Mr. Weasley. Harry will be coming to Grimmauld Place towards the end of the summer, and we can see then if he has improved." Dumbledore reached into his robes, and pulled out a gleaming, golden pocket watch. "And I'm afraid we have run out of time, my dear. You just hurry now to catch the Hogwarts Express. It was lovely to speak to you."
"Goodbye Professor." Hermione said unsurely, and made her way out of the office, not fully sure what to make of that meeting, and whether or not Dumbledore was right. This argument continued in her head until she reached the platform, and clambered aboard the scarlet locomotive. It continued as she sat down with Harry and Ron, and it continued the majority of the way back to London.
Harry was enamoured with Hermione for most of the train journey, staring at her as she stared out the window. Ron was talking about something insignificant, and Hermione was worried and that made him worried. He felt he had recovered from his minor breakdown the previous night, and was worried that Hermione was scared of him in some way because of what he had said last night.
He thought about her almost all the time, and whenever he thought about her, it made him happy but also sad at the same time. The more he thought about it, the clearer it became to him. Harry smiled as his rather beautiful friend smiled, and he knew he liked her, and not in the typical teenage relationship sort of way. No, this was something deeper than that.
He wasn't just infatuated with the way she looked, although he would freely admit that her beauty astounded him. Besides this realisation, there was really no defining point to when he had started to like her. The more he thought about it, and the further back he remembered, he had always liked her. Perhaps he was starting to grow up, and realise that, as silly as it sounded, Hermione was actually a girl.
He loved the way she talked, the way she walked,her intelligence, the way she leaned back on the balls of her feet whenever she got ratty. The only thing he didn't like was that he could never have her.
He had seen the way Ron had been looking at her this year, and had clearly come to a similar conclusion as Harry had. He knew that no matter how much he loved Hermione, he would never be with her if only to give Ron the chance he needed. He supposed it was unfair in Ron's eyes. He had money, he had fame he had everything Ron ever wanted, and Harry didn't want it. Of course Harry could understand Ron's lack of understanding of what had been taken from him in replacement for this fame. Someone who had grown up with loving parents couldn't fathom a life without them, or rather never thought about one.
Sometimes jealousy and feelings in general were a grey area - not as black and white as they were made out to be, and though it frustrated him to no end, Harry understood this. That was why he always forgave Ron, and most likely always would.
Harry gazed at Hermione with a mixture of longing and love in his eyes, before he opened his book and started reading.
Ron seemed to realise the conversation was over, and huffed slightly as he folded his arms. He fidgeted for most of the train journey until he eventually fell asleep. Hermione too had fallen asleep, leaving Harry solely awake in the compartment. He smiled at his two sleeping friends, and left to get changed into some more appropriate clothes for re-entering the Muggle World.
Even in the car on the way back home Hermione was quiet, and Daniel and Emma Granger picked up on it. It was a long car journey from Kings Cross Station to their house in Crawley, and the majority of it consisted of silence, and concerned looks between the two adults. They had both tried a couple of times to ask her about what had happened, but she would try and brush it off. They were almost home when she told them.
"Harry watched another student die."
The two gasped, and Emma who sat in the passenger seat turned around to look at her. "What? How?"
"Wait what?" Dan asked, his eyebrows rocketing up in shock.
"Do you remember when I told you all about the TriWizard cup, and how contestants could die in it?" Emma nodded. "During the final task, Harry and Cedric were taken away by something called a portkey. Have I told you about portkeys before?"
"Yes, you took one to the World Cup, didn't you?" Emma asked.
"I tell you, one of those would be useful around now." Dan said, grinding his teeth lightly as they sat in traffic.
"Go on dear." Emma said, shooting her husband an evil glare. "I'm listening."
"Well nobody knows where they went, but when they came back, Cedric had been killed and Voldemort had come back to life."
"Wait a moment," Dan looked in the rear view mirror. "I thought Voldemort died over a decade ago? How has he come back? That's impossible surely, even in the wizarding world."
"It's supposed to be." Hermione confirmed quietly. "But whatever happened to Harry there, he's different, and I don't know how to help him!"
Emma's heart went out to her daughter, and she could tell how much this hurt her.
"And last night he asked me to talk to him, and he just sounded so desperate, and broken, but Professor Dumbledore says not to contact him and let him get over his grief by himself and-"
"Hermione." Dan said firmly, but gently. "You need to calm down. I know you are worried about your friend, and that is understandable, of course it is, especially given the circumstances. But you do not listen to what that teacher of yours says. If you don't talk to him, he'll hate you for it. Trust me, he will."
Hermione was conflicted. Dumbledore's arguments and reasons had sounded so convincing, and appeared to make so much sense. But the prospect of Harry hating her was worse than anything she could think of. Harry had told her that last nights breakdown had been a one-time thing, and she believed him, but in his weak and malleable state she didn't want to give him any reason to dislike her. Even if he wasn't, she wouldn't want that. All she wanted was for him to be happy. She thought about what her dad was telling her and she could see his logic, and the more she thought about it, how truthful it was.
"Harry doesn't hate anybody, Dad." She argued anyway.
"I know baby, but if this is something big like you say it is, and it sure sounds it, then these are one of only four or five moments in someone's life that really change their views on things. You don't know what he'll be like after this summer, but what you do know is that you need to be there for him." Dan said passionately.
"Righto Daniel, stop scaring her." Emma raised an eyebrow dangerously, a motion that promised punishment should he continue.
"I'm not scaring her, I'm just telling the truth!" He said defensively.
"Can we talk about something else?" Hermione said, and Emma stared at her hard for a moment. She clearly hadn't wanted to talk about it in the first place, and had only done so out of necessity. After a moment however, her eyes softened and she turned back around, and slid a disc into the car. A couple of seconds later, Elvis Presley started to sing, begging for a little less conversation and a little more action.
The song seemed to be a faint backing tune to Hermione's thoughts. She considered everything her dad had said, and the more she thought about it, the more Dumbledore's voice and reasons seemed to fade into darkness. Perhaps it was time to stop talking about what she was going to do, and just do it, as she was being instructed to by the rhythmic tunes and Elvis's musical voice.
Hermione bit her lip again, something she seemed to be doing a lot more now. Her feelings and everything was so confusing! She knew there was a different sort of connection between her and Harry then there was between herself and Ron, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
That night, Hermione once again fell into a fitful and restless sleep, but instead of the blank, dreamless state she had been in last night, the last time she had had such an awful nights sleep, she started to dream.
Hogwarts was shining bright in the night, candlelight emanating from the narrow slit windows. She imagined archers up there, in the specifically designed windows, and the history that this surprisingly empty castle had.
Hermione looked around. She couldn't see anyone around her, and the only noise was the whistling of the wind through the courtyard she stood in. Despite the night and the wind, she wasn't cold. She just wasn't warm. She started to wander through into the main castle, and continued on her way to the Gryffindor common room. The castle was eerily quiet. Even in her usual midnight escapades with Ron and Harry, there was the ambient noise of flames flickering, or the wind or something, but the castle was unsettlingly silent. Everything seemed to be in black and white, besides the silently flickering torches in their brackets on the aging stone walls. They alternated every five long corridors she walked down, making most of her journey in a dark gloom, but she was still able to see.
Hermione was getting quite creeped out. Something was missing about this once so familiar place. It was like Hogwarts but only a haphazard memory, filtered through a bad dream. Corridors twisted into places she didn't recognise. Some hallways were irrevocably dark, others simply weren't where they should be.
The silence was getting to her now, and she felt a tingle go up her spine. The lack of warmth would have been uncomfortable could she feel it. She had become numb, but continued walking, unsure what she was doing.
It finally registered what was wrong, other than the castle itself. The walls were completely bare. There were no tapestries as there usually were, and the paintings weren't in their usual wall mounted positions. Actually, they were no-where to be seen. There were no windows of any kind, despite what she had seen outside, and the stairs were uncharacteristically stationary. The pedestals that usually held monuments and trophies and the statues and suits of armour were gone. She had yet to see a single ghost. While a ghost would usually make a bad dream worse, the day to day comfort of knowing they were there made it all the worse when they were absent.
There was a figure up ahead, and Hermione ran to it, and found her hearing returning, and colour starting to spill into her vision, and warmth spread through her body like a welcome virus. First came the frames, but then paintings and portraits started to re-appear, and then they started to animate. Armour faded into existence, and statues stood tall and proud. Tapestries of the house colours and crests draped down the walls, and windows started to reappear. Her Hogwarts was returning.
"Harry," she breathed, barely hearing her own whisper.
Harry turned around, a smile on his face, and his green eyes bright and full of life. He wrapped her in a hug and she surrendered to it without question, her fears alleviated.
She just stood there in his tight, warm embrace, revelling in it. She felt like she stood there for hours just standing there, and then she looked up, smiling at her Harry. She leant her head against his chest, and felt his strong arms around her, and if she wasn't already in a dream, she could have fallen asleep right there. She felt him press his lips against her forehead, and she turned her head up. She leant in to kiss him, and their lips were so close, about to brush against each other-
Hermione's eyes snapped open as she rocketed into consciousness. Now awake, she groaned, wishing she could have been asleep for at least a few moments longer, before she realised just what she had been dreaming about, and what it could mean. Her cheeks burned red, and she was in a flustered state. She had never had a dream like that before.
As her dog, imaginatively called Dave barked at the postman, she made her way downstairs to quiet him down. She sat there and petted him, watching the postman make his early morning rounds. It had just clocked quarter past six in the morning, and Hermione let out a large yawn, stretching wide as she did so. As she eyed the postman in his silly illuminous orange vest, she knew she had to write to Harry. About what, she wasn't quite sure yet, but if she could start a conversation off she knew it would come to her. Her Harry needed her, and the last thing he needed to be was alone. Screw Dumbledore's instructions. Dumbledore was wrong.