A/N: first and foremost, I could have updated much sooner, yet when my computer installed new updates, I accidentally lost everything I wrote. In fact, I was a bit disheartened, but the plot kept bugging me, so I decided to rewrite. Please understand, this is probably the less refined version.
1, Well I received quite a few complaints. I know, my paragraphs are huge, and I tried to break them down this time, but well, they feel like broken train of thoughts
2, Actually, I never intended to write fic. I wrote this, mostly for myself, trying to make an in-depth interpretation of Harry's subconscious. Harry Potter was deprived of love and had an unfortunate life, so I think Harry's psyche must be more complicated than in canon. The whole point of chap 2 is directing canon Harry to the point of having intense feelings for Hermione. If you notice, all events are canon-compliant, and I tried to tackle every single point canon shippers used against Harmony. It was so much easier than I thought, and I am confident that I actually managed to find evidence that canon Harry had feelings for his best friends. You just need to look beyond the boundary of Rowling's words, which are merely the tip of the iceberg. Even in DH, it still looks like there is much more to canon Harry's internal world than what is normally taken for granted by most readers. Really, I share this in hopes of convincing you guys of my belief that canon Harry does love Hermione. The situation can be radically changed if you look at things from a different perspective.
3, One of the most typical and obsolete reasons people think that Harry doesn't have feelings for Hermione is pretty superficial. They are convinced that Harry just likes pretty, popular girl, and that's why Ginevra Weasley had to basically undergo an unfounded transformation. Thus, in this next update, Ginevra is depicted as a stunning beauty, but you'll see, Harry's heart truly belongs to Hermione. This is also the heart of my bunny plot. I had considerable difficulty writing about Ginny. To be frank, I don't like her, at all, but I promise, this won't have any bashing, since every character deserves compassion! I won't lie to you guys, though. I found myself picturing Emma Watson when I described Ginevra, so well, it might not sound right.
4, Ah, the harp melody is actually "Harry&Hermione", HBP's ost. I really love the song. There's an air of quiet sorrow cast above, quiet yet sharp like a knife piercing our soul. There're ups and downs, there's moments of peace and comfort, of fears and hesitation, of desires and guilt. There is also climatic life-threatening danger. Yet running deeper through the entire melody, or their entire adventure, is the constant of love. This sums up Harry&Hermione perfectly! If possible, you guys might want to listen to understand how Harry feels in the story.
5, Just for fun, yet still holding some significance, I suppose. If Hermione has a favorite flower, I'd like to think it is Peruvian lily, symbolic of friendship and devotion and purity.
6, Such a long-winded A/N, I know, yet this chap is quite short, so I think I'll spare some space for a little clarification.
Lastly, thank you all for constructive opinions. I did try, yet I am afraid my lack of experience needs a lot of work here. I fervently hope you guys can see the purpose of this story, i.e., to nail down Harmony, once and for all!
Onto the story…
Hermione started to rub his thigh absentmindedly, not particularly making it easier for him to concentrate. Harry blinked twice before managing to put two and two together. He turned his head towards the entrance door, a bemused look still on his face, only to suck in a raspy breath. Ginevra Weasley had promenaded inside, now lingering at the center of the meeting room. She was illuminated in the rich butter yellow light of the chandelier above. Her strapless evening gown looked as if it were carved out of an enormous emerald gemstone, studded with glittering diamonds, and light ruffles cascading along the lines of her body, accentuating her sensual curves. Ginevra was wearing her fiery hair in a regal updo with a white flower headband, stray red ringlets around her face. Had she worn a pair of transparent wings, Harry would have thought a magnificent green fairy was spraying the party with golden pixie dusts. He noticed almost everyone stopped eating and looked up to admire the glamorous witch who had just arrived without her date, while Hermione turned back to playing with dinnerware. The so-called object of admiration smiled bashfully before approaching the round table, settling herself gracefully in the empty chair directly opposite him. Her lilting voice rose softly against the otherwise silent room. "Good evening, everyone! Sorry, I am late! I hope you all are having a fabulous time! The decorations are quite lovely, professor Slughorn!"
His wrinkled face contorted in unadulterated contentment, the potion professor welcomed her compliment with a burst of hearty guffaw. He commenced to drone on a detailed history of the decorative Arts during the Victorian era, as well as modifications of the style over time. Quite a few students, mostly those sitting closest to the professor, appeared to listen to him with rapt attention when Harry was trying to suppress a yawn. They had finished desserts, but professor Slughorn didn't show any signs of wanting to stop speaking about modernization of Victorian furniture. Harry got an impression that the club party had turned into one of Professor Binns' history classes.
Hermione remained strangely quiet, seemingly preoccupied in a world of her own, so Harry didn't have the heart to bother her. He stared unseeingly straight ahead, until his eyes fell upon the stunning profile of Ginevra Weasley. He soon found himself eyeing the pretty redhead like a museum visitor was leisurely scrutinizing a painting. Despite learning of her attractiveness, Harry had never chanced such a close look at Ginevra before, and he had to admit he was absolutely astounded that Ron's sister had indeed grown to become quite a winsome young lady. With flaming red hair arrayed in a stylish bun, graced with elaborate flowers , a touch of makeup highlighting her long, thick, curly eyelashes, her perfectly straight nose prominent on her porcelain face, the elegant curve of her chin and slender neck, Ginevra 's features were a delightful blend of vivacity and sophistication. It was, in fact, not too much of incredulity if Harry really considered the matter. Ron, his best friend, was also told to be particularly eye-catching with his similarly outstanding copper mane, his tall and sinewy build from years of playing Quidditch, not to mention the fact that the rest of the Weasley children were acceptably handsome-looking.
Harry was about to revert to blank staring out of boredom again when the object of his ogling suddenly turned and looked right in his direction. She winked at him, her soft pink blush growing a shade deeper, and he started to feel a little wee bit hotter getting caught red-handed. He instinctively turned away to avoid the palpable awkwardness, but caught Hermione's eyes instead. His stomach instantly dropped at the familiar indecipherable emotions churning in her brown orbs. His best friend gave him a large grin, which, if anything, just made her slightly moist eyes look more rueful. Harry was getting more worried, he didn't think he could put off asking her any longer. Just a simple "Are you all right?" that they had been asking each other countless times in the past will do.
He reached out, squeezing her hand slightly and opened his mouth to ask when extremely loud pops nearly jolted him out of his seat. It slipped his notice that professor Slughorn had finally finished his extracurricular harangue, a couple of house elves were doing magic to clean up after the feast. In a matter of seconds, the round mahogany surface was smooth, glossy and without a speck of food crumbs or dusts. Before Harry could gather his wits, and rub his aching knees, Hermione had already hastily pulled away, currently in the process of having a smart talk with Terry Boot, appearing quite cheerful again. He cursed under his breath, taking his frustration out on his innocent black mop, rendering it even more disheveled. Jarring music abruptly blasted from the magical firefly corner, catching him off-guard, yet again. Though Harry knew his potion professor could be gaudy and a tad outlandish, he had never been cognizant of his awfully bad timing.
The initially tedious party was getting boisterous, with loud and discordant wizarding music in the background, people started shuffling to the dance floor. An assortment of wizarding alcoholic drink was being levitated from the imposing Victorian wine cabinet to the round table. Afloat in midair were crystal goblets magically replenished with swirling liquids of flame firewhiskey, burgundy Sherry, gold champagne and many other colorful beverages. This, in all probability, would be a wondrous sight to behold for Muggles, but not a single person at the party bat an eyelid. Some were chatting amicably and others swinging vigorously along the hectic music. Couples, scattered around the room, were snuggling and flirting with each other. Harry was sitting in a plush couch, getting rather grumpy, while his date was engaged in what seemed like a lively discussion with Boot and professor Slughorn, who had recently joined them.
To Harry's amusement, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom arrived shortly afterwards. The pair was a striking contrast between the former draped in a long-sleeved, floor-length black frock, with a tight embroidered bodice and the latter, who was clad in an unblemished white robe with a black bow tie. In a combination of Wizarding and Victorian style, the couple looked quaintly attuned to professor Slughorn's party. Sleek blonde hair swept aside, and the slimy mimbulus mimbletonia tucked in his arm, his dorm mate was immediately recognizable, yet Harry couldn't have told the girl by his side was his loony Ravenclaws friend, but for her eminent radish earrings and butterbeer cork necklace.
They spotted Harry and promptly walked arm in arm to the couch he was sitting. The three friends talked about nothing significant, but their congenial conversation lifted Harry's mood remarkably. It had been nearly half a year since Neville's grandmother allowed him to get his own wand after the one inherited from his father had been broken in the DOM battle, but his enthusiasm remained at its height. He raved about how the cherry wood wand felt more comfortable, boosting his confidence in casting spells. He even went further to illustrate them with some simple hexes, and Harry, quickly switching to DA leader mode, complemented with useful tricks in wand-holding as well as wand movement skills. Luna impressed two Gryffindors with her authority on rare charms. Harry could imagine a collaboration of Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger would most likely result in a menace to the dark forces, feeling a swell of pride in Hogwarts students. They exchanged brief talks about courses they were taking this school year before Luna began her mythical creature ranting. She warned Neville of a nonexistent magical bug that exclusively infested the mimbulus mimbletonia, making it explode with dark green flame, irreparably damaging the plant. Neither boys seemed to believe her, but Luna appeared pretty serious, as serious as her constant dreamy smile could offer, giving a specific description of physical appearance, eating habit and breeding season of the imaginary magical parasite. Harry politely pretended to be paying attention. However, when Luna examined the squirming mimbulus mimbletonia with a conjured magnifying glass, and Neville pointed his wand at the so-called plant, looking grim as if some unknown explosion could happen any minute, Harry burst out laughing. The odd couple shared a look of confusion before joining him, and the three friends were soon rolling on the couch with cheery laughter.
Loud music had just then eased into a mellifluous, slow melody. All lights were dimmed noticeably. Magical fireflies whirled all over the place before arranging themselves in a glowing heart-shaped portal to the dance floor. The entire atmosphere was coated in an aura of romance. Neville waltzed Luna to the dance floor without a word of invitation while Harry was sitting frozen, his hardened eyes transfixed on a dancing couple closely behind the portal. Hermione was twirling in a circle, her skirt billowing out around her, her thick brown hair laced with myriad golden fireflies, a childlike smile aglow on her face. She rose slowly on tiptoe to capture one evasive luminous firefly, but lost her balance. Harry's heart skipped a beat. No sooner had he sprung up from his seat than his best friend fell into the strong arms of Cormac McLaggen. Such was the tenderness in her eyes as Hermione was smiling gratefully at the 7th year Gryffindor that Harry felt like it was squeezing his weakened heart. He was rooted to the spot when the couple resumed dancing. McLaggen had both of his hands on her waist possessively while she settled hers upon the guy's broad shoulders. Neither of the pair was particularly skilful at dancing, yet in Harry's eyes, they were the center of the ball. The world seemed to zoom in on his date and her dancing partner when they were moving fluidly back and forth, magical fireflies dancing around them, wrapping them in their shimmering light of featherlight kisses. McLaggen lifted her chin up, forcing her to look at him, but Hermione quickly averted her eyes to the ground. Harry unconsciously balled his hand into a tight fist. His heart grew ice-cold but a blazing fire was licking his guts, climbing up his chest and burning his parched throat. If he looked any longer, Harry surmised, he might literally burst into flames, so he deliberately veered away from the dance floor and decided to grab a cold butterbeer to soothe the burning feeling.
There was no one around the dining area. Beverages of all types were laid still on the round table, except for the gurgling sound from the goblet when ice was magically added. Harry was about to pick up a mug of frothy butterbeer when his eyes caught a bottle of Odgen's old time firewhiskey, next to which was a cup of chestnut amber swirling liquid. The flickering flames apparently spurting out of ice cubes were an enthralling emblem of the infinite realm of magic, but all he could see was a poignant reflection of his within, a burning fire erupting from a heart of ice. Temptation blurring his senses and drowning Hermione's voice in his head saying that he was doing something improper, Harry reached out for the forbidden drink without a second thought, at the same time as another female hand. Both hands brushed and recoiled almost simultaneously.
"Excuse me!" A familiar silvery voice clashed with his guttural one. "Sorry!"
"Ginny?" Harry looked up, quite surprised to see the youngest Weasley.
"H-harry!" cried Ginevra, open-mouthed, her eyes widening.
"Yeah, it's me—" Harry chuckled softly but, suddenly remembering something, immediately sharpened his tone, "-wait, Ginevra Weasley, don't tell me you are planning to sneak some firewhiskey!"
He narrowed his eyes at the redhead delinquent, but she looked amused instead of apologetic, laughter ostensibly bubbling on her face. Moments of perplexity had elapsed before he spontaneously flicked his eyes down to the firewhikey cup, which was puffing faint smokes into thin air as the flames dwindled inside. What originally led him to this place dawning on him, Harry quickly saw the humor of the situation he had somehow gotten himself into with the young redhead, who was apparently trying to keep a straight face. Unlike Ginevra, he saw no purpose in holding his laughter.
"Fair enough!" Harry commented, his voice sounding much less serious than intended. He continued, flashing the flustered witch a friendly smile," Shall I say…er…fancy a butterbeer instead?"
For some reason, Harry felt quite relieved that Ginevra had appeared just in time...He was so close to disappointing Hermione, and he by no means wanted her to burn the midnight oil making hangover potion...
"Well, thank you! I'd love to, Harry!" Ginevra's voice brought him back to the present. She was smiling brightly, her deep eyes putting on a dreamy sheen not dissimilar to Luna's.
"Cool! I got yours." With a swish of his wand, two glasses of foaming butterbeer lifted themselves off the table and trailed behind as Harry headed for the plush couch. The redhead followed him eagerly.
"This is comfy…" And has a clear view of the dance floor, Harry thought, as he plopped himself down in the same seat he had been sitting since the ball started. Ginevra offered no reply, but joined him on the other end of the couch. His eyes unwittingly scanned the room until they dropped upon a certain couple, who had moved to the far end corner, still swaying slowly to the mellow wordless song. They were standing so close to each other that Harry started to feel stifled just looking on them. He took a big gulp of his butterbeer, feeling the bubbly liquid gushing down his scorched throat, leaving frosty bites on his tongue. Harry never knew any kind of the ordinarily sweet butterbeer could leave an acrid aftertaste like the one prepared by professor Slughorn, but he finished his drink in no time, craving for more of the unfamiliar raw chills.
"How are you doing, Harry?" asked Ginevra suddenly, reminding Harry that he had company.
"Great! Excellent!" was his instant reply. Wincing at how fake it sounded, he added lamely, "Yeah…I mean…I am doing very well." Harry earnestly didn't want to delve further into his mental and emotional health at that point, so he quickly asked his best friend's sister, trying to change the topic. "Ah…I almost forgot. Where's Dean?"
Several moments passed in silence. Harry wasn't anticipating a reply, though. In fact, he was hypnotized as a harp melody was gently dripping into his ears. The serene, hushed, flowing music had a very distinctly bittersweet undertone that was pricking at the depth of his forlorn soul. Harry was staring blindly at numerous glowing balls of fireflies sailing around the dance floor, his mind wandering to a brunette bathed with their ethereal luminescence, when he spotted Neville and Luna. His dorm mate waved at him, smiling happily, with Luna snuggling cozy in his arms. Harry's face broke into a genuine smile as he simultaneously perceived the zenith of passion bursting forth with a strong note of triumph in the sublime melody, making his heart flutter.
"He couldn't come." Ginevra said emotionlessly, cutting into his trance.
Harry turned to look at the redhead for the first time since they'd been sitting together. Trying to appear understanding, he opined, half in a jest. "Ah, I see. You were late today…staying behind for a quick snog, eh?" Harry was down in the dumps, yet seeing his friends in their newfound bliss alleviated his ache. He thought they might do with an uplifting joke, but Ginevra looked sharply at him, not impressed with his wry sense of humor.
"Harry…," she fell silent, but continued to search his face before speaking quietly. "There is something I've always wanted to tell you…," she took in a shaky breath, tears welling up her eyes, "b-but I…I don't really know how."
Harry was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He had enough experience with crying girls to know that something he had tactlessly said about Dean upset the young lady next to him. He noticed her fingers were gripping the mug of saffron liquid, foamy top at its rim. Harry let out a soft sigh before scooting closer, nudging the frozen cup out of her hands and setting it on the rug under his feet. He nodded encouragingly at the redhead. "Ginny, it's alright. I am right here. Just tell me!"
Ginevra faced him fully. Yet instead of telling him what was bothering her, she began to fix his tie, which came loose and dangled around his neck after he had tugged at the disturbing garment carelessly many times. Harry vaguely wondered when she had learned to tie a Muggle cravat, but he soon realized that the redhead witch didn't really know how. Somehow, watching Ginevra fiddle with his necktie as an excuse to touch his chest gingerly, he knew what she wanted to tell him. Harry sighed inwardly, again feeling embittered by the notion of love. He hated to hurt anyone's feelings, but he felt that his personal space was being invaded, and he had to stop whatever it was Ron's sister was thinking before too late. As gently as possible, Harry pushed her hands away.
"No! Ginny, stop! I am very sorry, but I…I can't …" He trailed off, finding it much harder than he thought to reject someone, but added in a more determined voice, "Please understand! I just can't do this. It is not fair for you!"
Not unexpectedly, Ginevra flung her arms around his neck and sobbed violently. Way to go, Potter! So much for consoling crying girls, Harry thought gravely. He tentatively stroked her back, but the tiny rhinestones on her dress felt rough in his hands, so he settled for patting it awkwardly. He waited for her to calm down a little bit before pulling away, putting both hands on her shoulders and smiling truthfully at the delicate redhead. Her puffy red eyes didn't make her look any less pretty.
"Ron is like a brother I've never had, and I am always grateful for his friendship and your family's hospitality and generosity. I do care for you, Ginny, the way Ron does, and I would very much love to be able to take care of you like he or any of your wonderful brother. I think I understand how you feel, but I am not…not the right one." Harry stopped momentarily, contemplating how to get his points across, before articulating with utmost sincerity. "Someday, you'll understand when you find the other half of your soul, who loves you wholeheartedly, irrevocably and unconditionally, and will be more than happy to spend the rest of his life loving you that way. For now, Ginny, search your heart, carefully, deeply and thoroughly, and let it go! Set your heart free and send it soaring to new horizons, embarking on magical adventures until your heart finds its home!"
New tears coursed down Ginevra's cheeks. She fiercely wiped them away with the back of her wrists, sniffing loudly. "Y-y-you s-said y-yo-ou c-ca-are f-for m-me?"
"There, that's the strong Ginny I know." Harry mused aloud, but knew to hold back his thoughts, and the cute baby sister I always wish for, while silently conjuring a green silk handkerchief folded neatly into a rose, which he gave the redhead in a gentlemanly gesture. "I most certainly do care, young lady! Now, would you awfully mind handing a modest gift of this green rose to a gorgeous green fairy in this room, as a token of my sincere affection?"
More tears alighted on the silk rose, forming translucent dewdrops curling up in the green petals, which glimmered softly in Ginevra's palms as a look of rapture flickered over her face. She looked up, smiling in pure wonderment, her eyes bright and clear, without a trace of tears. The imperceptible nod from the redhead finally came, and they both heaved a sigh of relief. Harry himself couldn't help but marvel that another wicked trick of Hermione had just saved him from yet again a fairly complicated situation. He suddenly felt very curious about what her snow white Peruvian lily would do with teardrops. He was not quite certain how he knew, whereas he conceded to himself long ago that he knew not a thing about love, but what he could say so eloquently to Ginerva, he said it from his heart, and with deep-seated conviction and unwavering faith. Jubilation started to blossom from within his soul, filling the hollowness in his heart, and warmth was firmly fixed in his bright green eyes. He gained a trustworthy friend today.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could see a flash of bushy brown hair as Hermione was dashing madly out of the door, followed closely by McLaggen. Alarm ringing in his ears, Harry was morbidly positive that he heard people yelping 'Bloody Hell!' all around him, his stomach sinking in such desperation before barely reveling in his brief joy that he felt like it could never rise again. He put some slight pressure on Ginevra's right shoulder out of reflex to steady himself, uttering quickly."Remember what I said. I gotta run...NOW!"
Within seconds, Harry found himself grabbing an extremely shocked McLaggen's collar, his fist hovering over the face of the notably taller 7th year Gryffindor. Harry was completely unaware that he had managed to apparate without splinching himself, with no previous practice or experience, but had he been, he still wouldn't have had time to worry about Hermione's reaction to the fact the he had attempted to break the rules twice in one night, and was currently on the verge of beating up an older student.
"What do you think you have been doing to her, you bloody git?" Harry growled, green fires ablaze in his eyes.
The victim of his wrath raised both arms disarmingly, eyeing Harry's tightened fist warily." Harry, I did absolutely nothing. We were just-"
"I am no Harry to you, and don't you dare finish that"-his voice hoarse with fury-" Do tell! Have you been taking advantage of her?" ordered Harry, pressing his fist into Maclaggen's neck when he croaked the last word. The Gryffindor lion in him was prepared to crush the trespasser on his territory.
"I swear, Har-I mean, P-potter, I...Her-no, s-she said she wasn't feeling well, and I just wanted to check on her...a-and she ran so fast that I had to..." McLaggen squeaked, but then swallowed loudly, unable to carry on, his face ashen with fright. The 7th year Gryffindor just had the first taste of the most powerful wizard of the Light.
Harry didn't believe the coward, but most of his indignation subsided. Harry always wanted to be strong in the face of challenge, strong in defense and countering evil forces, but never did he want to garner strength and power to oppress the weak. He slowly released McLaggen, leaving the shaky student gasping for air. Remembering he could do magic for the first time, Harry brandished his wand and spoke clearly." I don't trust you. It's my fault that I was not watching out for her, but I can assure you I will NOT be making the same mistake, ever again," he raised his wand, emphasizing his words," and don't...don't let me see you near her anytime in the future!" Without waiting for McLaggen's response, he put his wand back into his pocket, pushed the door open and promptly darted out into the dark corridor.
tbc.