Every Little Thing

Chapter 1

"Oy! Hermione! What are you doing up so early? And out in this cold, no less!"

Hermione glanced up from her book toward the back exit of number twelve, Grimmauld place, watching the red head lumber slowly over to her, apparently still half asleep. She gave him a slow smile, but turned her attention back to her book.

"Hermione?"

"I'm studying," she said, peering to her side as he sat down beside her on the stone bench. Usually when she told Ron that she was studying, he would try to avoid her like the plague, for fear that he too would be made to study as was normally the case when he was around Hermione. He flinched only a slight bit this morning, but made no excuses to leave her alone. Today, Ron merely smiled and let her go back to reading.

It became clear, though, that after a few minutes of her paying attention to her book, and him watching her intently, she was not going to be left in peace. She had intentionally gotten up so early this morning to come out here to read and to decide what she was going to do about the situation now sitting ominously up in that old birch tree. Now it seemed she would have to put that off.

Dog-earing her place, she closed the book on her lap, looking back toward the branch. The large black bird there ruffled its plumage and bobbed his head, as though he were baiting her to come up after him. She would not be climbing that tree any time soon—physical pursuits of such a nature were not a choice activity. No, she could eventually use magic to subdue the bird, that was if it put up a fight, and use a Summoning Charm to bring it to her waiting hands.

She did not quite know the intention of this bird, if it even had an intention, but knowing that it was looking directly at her on a hidden and unplottable piece of land alerted her to the fact that it knew she was there. It had told her that two days ago when she first noticed it sitting aloft, the black feathers shining in the afternoon sun. She had an inkling as to what, or whom, it was, but there would only be one way to find out for certain, and doing that would have to be taken with the utmost care.

So she had come out to plan what she was going to do, and Ron still was not leaving her side.

"Is there something you needed, Ron?"

"Nope, just enjoying your company."

Hermione pursed her lips. Had Harry gone ahead and said something to him last night or this morning?

"It's quite nippy out here," he said. "Are you sure you want to stay out here?"

She shrugged.

"You're not very talkative this morning."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I know I'm not… I was reading. And I'm fine out here in the cold."

"Breakfast, you two!"

She grumbled lowly at the sound of Molly's voice coming from the house. Lovely! Now Molly was insisting in her own hand-on-her-hips way that they come in for food and abandon whatever else they were doing. Molly was a wonderfully doting mother, and Hermione admittedly had always been a bit jealous that the Weasley children could call her Mum as Hermione's own mother had never been as warm or as protective of her as Molly. However, since Hermione and Ron had decided that they should not skirt around their mutual crushes any longer, Molly had even taken more interest in Hermione. Ginny was the only girl in the family, and even with Fleur marrying Bill, Molly seemed to be a bit lonely in the female family department. Hermione had been the addition she was waiting for. Regretfully, though, she was quickly growing tired of the constant doting.

It had made doing anything secretive rather difficult.

Ron stood up from his seat, offering his hand to help her up. Hermione smiled faintly, knowing she would not get out of breakfast, and that she really should not skive off the meal today. She would need all of her energy in getting that damn bird down. She took a hold of his hand and stood carefully, pulling her hand away from Ron. He never was one to be overly affectionate, especially after all the public faux pas he had made with Lavender Brown. Hermione knew this well, and did not really mind it much, though it would have been pleasant to get that peck on the cheek once and awhile or an arm around her as they walked about Hogsmeade. Anything to tell others that she was not a complete and utter social reject when it came to love.

Many of the girls at school (Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, to be exact) especially liked spreading the rumor that she was too into her books to recognize boys and not nearly pretty enough to attract them. Even if they would not be impressed that she was with a Weasley, at least it would stop those hurtful rumors.

Hell, even Loony Luna got a hug here and a kiss there from Neville!

Hermione walked past Molly and down the stairs into the kitchen, finding her usual seat beside Tonks, who looked a bit peaky and quiet. She poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice, eyeing the food on the table, trying to decide what her stomach wanted the most. Deciding on a muffin and pulling it onto her plate, Hermione went quietly about cutting the bread in half and spreading butter on it. Meanwhile, Ron was tucking into eggs and bacon with as much gusto as ever, preparing for his Quidditch match later in the day.

"Are you coming to the match today, Hermione?" asked Ron.

"Not today," she said quietly. "I'm researching some things."

"You're always studying!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You say that every time, and does anything ever change?"

"No," he said. "Harry said he wasn't going either."

"He may be tired, he was up all night again," Hermione replied.

"How do you know that?" Ron prodded suspiciously.

"Because he found me in the library around three this morning," she said. "I was asleep on the couch."

Ron nodded his head. "I see."

Hermione sighed.

Just then, Moody made his entrance into the room, his fake leg hobbling along a bit behind him. "You ready to go, boy? Lupin just arrived to escort you."

"Remus is here?" Tonks questioned, her face suddenly brighter and her hair a more vibrant shade of crimson. She jumped clumsily from her seat and moved quickly out of the room.

Soon enough there came a loud thud from the floor above followed by the dreadful screeching from Mrs. Black's portrait that still resisted every attempt at it's removal. That bloody old hag must have used some very powerful magic to make it stick. Everyone in the room rolled their eyes good naturedly, though with some annoyance, but Mrs. Black was quickly dealt with by a few terse words from Harry and the closing of the curtains.

Harry appeared in the kitchen then, shaking his head. "Ron, you might want to get up there pretty soon before Lupin forgets why he's here."

Ron grumbled. "At it again, are they?"

"Ronald Weasley!" Molly smacked the back of his head.

"Do you have to do that, Mum?"

Molly glared at him. "You better leave before something else happens."

"Good luck," Hermione called.

He smiled brilliantly at her. Her confidence always seemed to make him do better whether she was there or not.

"And tell Ginny to catch the snitch or else," Harry added, slipping into the seat across from Hermione. He gave her a half-hearted smile at that, and she returned it as happily as she could manage. It was no secret that Harry missed Quidditch more than anything else, but it had been his choice not to play this year, for fear that something could happen to him during a match or practice. This was not taking into account that no guards would be able to protect him during a match. Hermione had taken it as a remarkable sign of maturity on his part to realize that, even if she knew he would be miserable leaving it behind.

Soon enough, Ron and his guard had left the Grimmauld Place, Tonks deciding to go with Remus. Moody retreated to his heavily-warded room to sleep. And Molly excused herself to pick a few things up from Diagon Alley for the Order meeting later this evening. It was comforting while at the same time being nerve-wracking, knowing that Molly trusted Hermione and Harry alone to guard the house. Or perhaps, just Hermione as it was the Order's duty to protect and aide Harry now as best as they could manage.

"Well, now that we're alone," he said. "Want to tell me why you're reading about birds?"

Hermione was startled at this, but realization filtered through her head as her eyes traveled to the tome lying beside her plate. She did not intend on telling Harry why exactly she was reading about birds, as said bird she was investigating most likely would reveal someone who Harry was not prepared to forgive. Truthfully, she did not know how she would handle the situation either, should this be the animagus form of their former professor and murderer of the greatest wizard in the world. Knowing what she did, she would have guessed that said ex-professor was operating on an order from Dumbledore himself, but there was no way to know that. The only real evidence of loyalty she had to go on right now was that while Severus Snape had every opportunity to hex an equally hex-and-curse-happy Harry as he was fleeing Hogwarts several months ago, he only deflected Harry's attempts at vengeance.

Then again, it might be good to have two people around when and if the bird was an animagus.

"Just some light reading. It's nice to take a break from reading Dark texts," she said.

"On birds?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm just studying right now, Harry."

"Right," he nodded. Harry busied himself with pouring himself a bowl of cereal, then letting it turn soggy as he became engrossed in a story in the Daily Prophet.

Hermione sipped her pumpkin juice, watching Harry just over the rim of her cup. His eyes flitted here and there across the text, reading carefully. Every once and a while his face became gravely serious and other times he would become rather disgusted at what he was reading. Not once did he smile; it had been so long since he had truly smiled from lips to eyes. She longed to see it again and to have him be carefree, even if she knew it would likely never happen after fighting this war.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" The dark circles beneath his eyes had become Harry's normal appearance as of late. He was having dreams again—his Occlumency lessons permanently suspended after sixth-year with out a skilled teacher—and he was doing everything in his power to not have his mind clouded. Not sleeping was one of his remedies, both for these dreams and for the sheer fact that stress kept his mind from being able to shut itself down properly. Hermione's job amongst the three of them, it seemed, was to worry about this lack of rest.

He shook his head. "I went upstairs after I put you back to bed, and laid down. I was just drifting off when Ron woke up and started to make noise."

Hermione pursed her lips together and shook her head. "You know, without Ginny coming back with us, you could sleep in my room. I'm quiet and all you'd have to worry about it Crookshanks snuggling up to you."

Harry laughed. "As appealing as the fur ball sounds, I think Molly would have something to say about us sharing a room."

"Well, she'd be more apt to have us a share a room then me and Ron."

"Are you kidding? She'd welcome that, I think," Harry laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course she would."

Harry smirked and went back to his reading, Hermione quickly falling into her trance watching him again. He had definitely grown up a lot in the last year or so, at least in a physical sense. She had not really realized it—seeing him everyday made it so that small changes were not generally noticeable. It had become pretty apparent last night, however, as she lay against him that he had indeed grown up a good deal.

His long, lean body was sturdy and finely toned, powerful muscles snaked about his arms and midsection. Quidditch likely didn't do that, but they were there, and she had wondered idly how he had acquired them. Neither had she noticed how his shirts fit snugly to his chest until last night and she had rested her hand there, at first not thinking and then finding herself curious. What had changed the most, though, was his face. His jaw had squared and there was a remarkable maturity, even if it was laced with sadness and anxiety, in his green eyes. His glasses were still the same, but his hair was now combed all the time and he did not take pleasure in messing it up. The unruly bits still stuck up in the back; she could sympathize with hair woes.

At least he combed his hair!

"Do I have bogey or something?"

"Huh?" she questioned, raising her brows curiously.

"You're staring at me."

Hermione felt the heat of a blush rise to her cheeks, and she giggled. "Sorry… just thinking."

"That's never good," he remarked, folding the paper up and setting it aside.

"Hey, at least someone thinks around here!" she exclaimed, a frown forming on her lips. "Where'd you be if I wasn't thinking?"

He smiled at that—it still didn't reach his eyes—but he smiled nonetheless.