Chapter Ten

Oh Harry. There you are! I've been looking for you... I just got back. I'm guessing you don't really want to know the details but the date was amazing! I think it's important you know that he didn't even ask me about the Hunt. I thought he would have; everybody else seems to. ... He told me about how he was tortured by the Carrows. It was horrible, Harry. I always feel guilty about the way we just left them all here to defend themselves. Neville, Ginny, Luna. ... We talked about so many things. I guess I lost track of time. ...

Harry almost growled as Hermione talked at him about her date. He was lying on his bed with his fingers knitted behind his head, watching her as she excitedly recounted all that happened during her excursion. She was too wired to even sit down. Harry was waiting patiently, gearing himself up for the possibility that she would tell him that they kissed. He'd spent hours preparing himself but even he had to know that no preparation would be enough.

Once Hermione was relatively talked out - thankfully not mentioning anything to do with joined lips - she finally climbed onto the bed, making him shift his legs out of the way. "Sorry, I'm just going on and on about my day. How was your visit? I know I was supposed to meet you guys at the Three Broomsticks but, like I said, we just lost track of time."

He hated how dismissive she was about it. They'd waited for her for almost an hour before Ginny gave up and dragged them all back to the Castle.

"What did you get up to?" Hermione asked, not noticing the slight scowl on his face, which was a real testament to how out of sorts the two of them were.

"I tried to find you," Harry said, allowing himself to show her his irritation. "Where did you go?"

Hermione had the decency to look remorseful. "We went for a walk."

"We waited, Hermione," he said, sitting up and looking at her rather pointedly. "Did you forget? I mean, I reminded you this morning! You were supposed to be there!"

"Why are you so mad?"

Harry wasn't even really mad at her. That was the thing. He was disappointed, and it really had nothing to do with the fact that she hadn't shown up for him. He could easily get over that but this was different. "Because, Hermione," he finally said, the defeat he felt filling his tone of voice. "You said you would be there. He kept asking for you and I kept having to lie."

That made her frown. "What? Who?"

"Ron," he told her, his eyes dark and serious. "He and George met us at the pub. Ron wanted to surprise you with how well he's doing and you weren't even bothered to show up." Though, now that Harry thought about it, meeting at the Three Broomsticks had probably been a bad idea, but Ron seemed perfectly fine. He really was doing well.

Hermione pressed her lips together. "He was here?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Harry nodded.

"How is he?"

"He's fine," Harry said curtly.

"I'm sorry," Hermione forced out, swallowing her own words. "I didn't know, Harry. You know I would have been there if I had known. You know that. If you'd just told me..."

"He wanted it to be a surprise," he forced out. "And, normally, when you say that you're going to be there, you usually mean it. I didn't think I had anything to worry about."

She sighed. "What did you tell him? How is he, really?"

Harry just lay back down, unable to look at her remorse. She looked so... pretty. He'd already forgiven her, really, but he was determined not to show that to her, for Ron's sake.

"Harry?"

He said nothing.

"Harry? Talk to me." She moved onto her knees to get a better look at his face. "You have to forgive me."

Still, he said nothing.

Slowly, she started to smile as a thought came to mind. "Harry Potter, you talk to me right now. I won't survive without you!" Then, before he could even react, Hermione was on top of him, her hands seeking out his known tickle spots on his upper body.

"Hermione!" he squealed in a very unHarry-like manner. "Stop it! Get off!"

"Not until you forgive me!" she persisted. "See! It's not very nice, is it?"

As much as Harry fought, she just wouldn't let up. Eventually, he gave into the laughter, his head tilting back as it erupted from within him. "Her...mio...ne! Sto-op! Pleeease!"

"Do you forgive me? Tell me you forgive me!"

"No!"

"Say it!" she said over his protests, reinforcing her tickle attack. "I can't hear you!"

"No! Hermione!"

"Tell me you forgive me!"

"Okay, okay! I forgive you," he finally relented, unable to breathe. "I forgive you, okay! Stop, just stop!"

Hermione stopped, but she remained on top of him and she wasn't moving. "I'm sorry," she said again, her face right over his and her breath mingling with his. "Do you really forgive me?"

Harry nodded dumbly, suddenly very aware of Hermione's position on him. "I do."

"Good," she said, finally rolling off of him and sitting up. "Now tell me about Ron. How is he really?"

Harry also sat up, his breath caught and his heart rate almost calm. It was never really calm when he was now in her presence. "He's fine, really. He actually looks quite good. Even thinning out a little bit. Luna was even eyeing him. Made me supremely uncomfortable."

Hermione's eyes widened. "No?"

"I kid you not," Harry said, enjoying being able to tell Hermione this. It felt like they hadn't talked in days. "He was totally looking too. It was actually quite awkward for me, particularly when Neville and Ginny started ogling each other."

"What? When did that happen?"

"You've been rather preoccupied," he said, dropping his gaze.

She took a deep breath, choosing to say nothing.

"I suppose it's my turn to find a lucky lady before I end up a spinster," Harry just said, not entirely sure where it came from. He mentally kicked himself for saying such a thing.

Hermione didn't know why she laughed but she couldn't hold it in. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" She placed her hand on his chest. "Though, from what I've seen, you've got girls falling all over you."

He swallowed. "Well, then, you're just seeing things," he muttered, definitely not wanting to broach the topic of girls with Hermione. Not anymore. It was painful enough hearing her talk about other boys without bringing further heartache into the equation.

Hermione also didn't push it. It was just something she didn't want to talk about and she didn't stop to think about why that may be. Eventually, she got up off the bed and straightened out her clothes. "I should probably draft a letter to Ron," she said, slipping into bookworm-Hermione mode. "Can I come get you before I go to the Owlery?"

Harry nodded. "If I'm not in here, I'll be in my other room."

She laughed softly. "Okay."

"You can even use Thaddeus, if he agrees that is. Apparently I'm a magnet for temperamental owls." His thoughts drifted to his first familiar, Hedwig and tears seemed to spring to his eyes. He was able to force them away and, from the determined look on his face, Hermione knew not to question him about it.

Since when was he the crier?

Though, before she left, she gave Harry a featherlight kiss on his forehead and lingered there, as if she was still trying to convey just how sorry she was. Really, it only made Harry feel worse. He wanted her to linger for entirely different reasons.

Hermione and Michael.

Merlin.

Michael and Hermione.

Bloody Michael Corner.

When the school wasn't talking about Harry and his various exploits, they were talking about his best friend and her new beau. To Harry's relief, though, Hermione seemed to miss out on all the talk about her. He wouldn't want her to have to deal with what he did, every single day. For him, though, the staring was worse now that the bushy-haired girl wasn't always at his side.

Thankfully, true to their words, Ginny and Luna spent their time flanking him whenever they were moving between classes. Even Neville had to become a human shield at times. Some of the girls were forceful and Harry was too polite to beat them away. Fortunately, Ginny wasn't. In fact, Harry was quite sure that she rather enjoyed it. He was even starting to query her position on the Quidditch team - the girl was surely supposed to be a Beater.

Every evening at dinner, she and Neville would laugh over whatever antics they'd had to pull during the day to get Harry safely from place to place.

"This can't go on forever," Harry eventually said, quite a few days into his not-entirely-new status as Wizarding Bachelor No. 1. They were having dinner in the Great Hall sans Hermione, who was holed up in the library with Corner. "They'll have to give up eventually, surely. They'll have to take the hint at some point."

Neville just laughed, though he was sympathetic. "I don't know, Harry. They seem really determined. You're a prize to be won."

Harry did not consider himself to be anything special. In his mind, all he had really done was what he had been born to do. He had defeated the Dark Lord. It didn't make him any more special than if it had been Neville marked as Voldemort's equal. Harry actually found it rather disturbing that the fact that he was a halfblood was the reason he was the Chosen One.

"Don't think about it too much," Luna said to Harry. "It will all be over soon." That made the three present Gryffindors frown. Even Susan and Hannah seemed to raise their eyebrows at the Ravenclaw's declaration.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry found himself asking.

"The girls will soon stop chasing you," the white-haired witch elaborated, her voice dreamier than usual. "I foresee it."

Harry would have questioned her further but he was convinced he wouldn't get a straight answer. What reason would the girls possibly have to stop chasing him? Would be end up doing something so unattractive that they lost interest? He wasn't sure what his thoughts were on that happening.

Maybe Hermione and Corner would break up? Yes, he could definitely go for that. If that were indeed the case, Harry would have reached across the table and kissed Luna right there, but he remained firmly in his seat, his heart rate picking up from cautious excitement.

It was the only thing he was able to hang onto as he went through the motions of schoolwork and increasing Quidditch practices. He needed his team to be ready so that they could wipe the floor with Ravenclaw. Harry would only admit to himself that he desperately wanted to wipe the smug look off of Corner's face.

The two boys had never been particularly friendly with each other before and throwing Hermione into the mix wasn't helping. Harry had accepted - even tolerated - his presence in Dumbledore's Army and he would even - though begrudgingly - admit that the boy was a decent duelist. He'd been an asset against Voldemort's numerous forces and Harry would always be grateful for that. But this was different. Harry didn't know why it was, but it all felt a little too personal for Harry's liking.

Ginny still maintained her theory that Corner was only interested in Hermione because of Harry, but the raven-haired wizard wouldn't accept it. He just couldn't believe that Corner would be the type of boy to use Hermione so unsavourily. Hermione was smart enough to be able to see right through something like that. And, as much as Harry hated to admit it, whatever the two of them were feeling for each other was, pobably, real.

And because he was determined not to interfere, as he had promised; Harry hung onto the fleeting moments he did have with Hermione. Now that she was actually dating someone, Harry's thoughts twisted towards other thoughts. With both of them so occupied on other things - she, Corner and he, trying not to kill Corner - they rarely found themselves drifting towards painful thoughts and darkened memories while he was awake. Harry supposed that was one good thing to come out of having Corner wreak havoc with his most constant friendship.

It wasn't as if he stopped thinking about the War entirely though. He just stopped dreaming about Hermione in the War, which he would accept. Having her alive and well in his dreams, even if she was in another boy's arms, would trump her pained screams and bloody body any day. It wasn't even a question.

As the days went past, Harry even started to forget about what Luna said. The more he was subjected to Hermione and Corner, the worse he felt. He didn't know how much more he could take before he all but blew up in their faces about something that would probably be totally unrelated to the fact that they kept sneaking looks at each other and smiling secretively.

Harry wouldn't call what he was feeling jealousy. It did hurt when he realised that Hermione didn't seem to need him as much as she used to. What made him feel a bit better about it was that that was what they had set out to have happen. She'd said it wasn't healthy for them to be so reliant on each other. Above all, her recovery was the most important thing. And if Corner was helping her with that, he vowed not to do anything to get in the way.

Her happiness; her recovery - they were the most important. He wouldn't do anything to derail that, unless the situation demanded it. He wasn't that selfish.

Which was why Harry found himself in the library, alone. It was relatively empty, which was something he always appreciated. Nobody to look at him. He quickly made his way to his usual table - which was vacant - to get started on his work so he could be relatively done with it when he met up with Hermione for their patrol later that evening.

Before he reached the table, though, the sound of a voice stopped him. "Harry?"

He turned to see Hermione looking at him rather expectantly. "Hey," he managed to get out, his voice defying how hopeless he suddenly felt in her presence. He frowned slightly, asking the question with his eyes.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about something," she said, absently playing with her hands in front of her stomach.

Harry knew he wasn't going to like whatever it was she wanted to say. Merely the fact that she couldn't even meet his gaze was enough of an indication. His stomach twisted in trepidation "Sure. What's up?"

She smiled at him for the first time in what felt like a very long time. "Well," she paused, clearing her throat. "I was wondering what your stance was on changing patrol partners," she said, her voice light and unassuming.

Harry found himself frowning, more out of confusion than anything. "What?"

"The thing is, well, Michael wants to spend more time with me and I thought our prefect patrols would be the perfect opportunity. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

No no no! Harry wasn't sure what to say. Every nerve in his brain was screaming for him to tell her that he would definitely mind but those words would never leave his mouth. She looked so endearing, and so... excited. It was something new, something different, and it brought out a look on her face that he'd never seen before. How could he ever deny her that? So he found himself agreeing without all parts of his body being on board with the ghastly decision.

"We'll have to check with Padma first," he added, wishing he didn't sound so shaken by this horrible turn of events. He'd taken pleasure in knowing that their patrols were something that he and Hermione would still have, given everything that was happening. He'd stupidly thought that they were sacred, as if they held within them such value now that they were back at the routine of attending school. Clearly, they didn't mean as much to her as they did to him.

Or they did. Just not with him.

He hated Michael Corner even more now.

"You're the best," Hermione said, grinning at him happily. Could he have ever denied her that? She even reached up and kissed his cheek before she scurried away, probably in search of Corner to tell him the news.

Harry could only stand and watch her retreating form in longing, and a pain in a chest that he could only term heartache.

"Well, that was probably the saddest thing I've ever seen."

That voice. Harry let out an exaggerated sigh as he turned to face the person who had spoken. "What do you have to say now, Greengrass?"

She smiled innocently at him. "You're going to have to tell her soon, you know?"

"Tell her what?" he growled.

"That you love her," she said, her gaze softening in a way Harry wasn't sure a Slytherin could even manage.

Harry bit back a retort, the fear at the sound of her words temporarily paralyzing him. "What?" he managed to get out.

The tall Slytherin shrugged. "Oh don't do that. Everyone can see it. The way you stare after her, it's just so... pathetic."

"Thanks," he muttered, falling into an even fouler mood. He didn't need this. Especially not from Daphne Greengrass. "If you'll excuse me," he added with venom. "I'm going to go over there and be pathetic by myself. Wouldn't want to rub off on you."

Before Harry could turn and walk away, Daphne grabbed hold of the sleeve of his robes, keeping him in place.

"Greengrass," he said pointedly, his eyes drifting back to her face. What he saw surprised him. He was expecting a self-satisfied smirk or even a scowl but what he got was a look of regret, or even sorrow.

"Potter," she said hotly. "Could you just wait five seconds while I get all the Slytherin out of me and we can have a proper conversation?"

Harry didn't know why but he found himself smiling in amusement. He folded his arms over his chest. "Then we're going to be here a while, aren't we?"

She released his robes, finding that she too was caught by an unexplainable smile. "I'm failing quite dismally at what I'm trying to tell you," she said, her eyes focused on him. "What I'm trying to say is that I want to help."

Harry remained expressionless, though he was beyond confused. This whole thing couldn't be real. He was tempted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He didn't know what was more disturbing: that he was talking to Daphne Greengrass or that she was potentially in his dreams.

"Help with what?" Harry asked dumbly.

"You and Granger."

"I don't even know what you're talking about," he said, his voice annoyingly unsteady.

"Oh, come on, the signs are all there. You're totally hopeless over her, and it really doesn't help that she's so hung up on that idiot, Corner."

"You have way too much time on your hands," Harry said dismissively. "Really, Greengrass, you're just talking nonsense. There's nothing to see here. You can just go back down to the dungeon and tell them I played along. Whatever. I don't even care."

Daphne had the sense of mind to look hurt by his accusation. "I won't blame you for thinking this is all some trick," she said, whipping her neck back and moving her growing fringe away from her eyes. "But I promise you that this isn't some game. I'm generally interested in helping you."

Harry stared at her, his mouth hanging slightly open. "But why?" he asked, his voice low and disbelieving.

Daphne suddenly got very serious. "Because I recognize that look in your eye, Potter. I see it every morning in the mirror." Her eyes glazed over for a moment, losing focus in her longing for something unattainable.

Harry didn't even have to think about it. "Malfoy."

She seemed surprised that he easily guessed it, but she didn't comment. She'd managed to figure he and Granger out; why wouldn't he? "I hate that I love him," she said, shaking her head as if disgusted with herself. "He's always been so vile and arrogant and showboaty and obnoxious and just plain mean. You don't have to point those things out to me already. Trust me, I know them.

"But, I just don't know what it is. With me, he's just... different. And now he's in his own self-professed isolation of recovery. He won't talk to anyone. Not even Zabini. I can't possibly tell him what I feel, can I? He could close off from the world entirely, right? The trauma could end up being too much, right? He's not ready. We both aren't."

Harry couldn't come up with a single reason as to why she was telling him any of this. It all seemed so personal. Harry Potter was definitely the last person Daphne Greengrass should be telling things about Malfoy's recovery.

Daphne shook her head hard, as if she were just remembering that she was in fact talking to one Harry Potter. "I said that all out loud, didn't I?"

Harry nodded his head.

She pressed her lips together. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

"I won't," he said softly, kindly, truthfully. Recovering from all that happened was something precious to him. He wouldn't want anyone to divulge his secrets either. "You want to help me because you feel like you can't help him," he stated. There was no hint of it being a question.

Daphne met his gaze, looking unsure for the first time since she starting speaking to him. "Can I help you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about, remember?"

She smiled. "You totally do. I know you've figured it out, and it's definitely about time."

Harry wasn't sure what to say. He was fully aware of people staring at them, waiting for them to break into a fight or have one of them storm off in a fit of rage like the last time they spoke.

"The Slytherin in me would probably say just hex the life out of Corner but Granger would probably hate you if you did that."

Harry would not admit to what she thought he felt for Hermione. He just wouldn't. It just didn't feel right saying it to a stranger when he couldn't even say it to Hermione. "I think more than just Hermione would have a problem with that," he said softly.

She laughed. "That's true. Maybe don't do that. We'll come up with something."

"We?"

"I said I was going to help you, didn't I? I'm pretty sure you heard me when I said that."

Harry gave her a look.

She smiled innocently. "Come on, we've got a lot of planning to do. Plus, we've got that Potions essay to work on, don't we?"

Harry frowned. "Actually, I have been wanting to find out... I thought you didn't do N.E.W.T. Level Potions?"

She raised a shoulder. "Based on the fact that this is in fact my eighth year at Hogwarts, Professor Slughorn decided that I could handle myself in his class. So far, it hasn't been terrible. But I'm quite stuck in my essay. We should work on them."

"I've finished mine," Harry said.

Daphne took hold of the sleeve of his robes, clutching tightly. "Well then you can help me with mine, friend."

Harry knew he should be cautious. He couldn't afford to forget who he was dealing with, but he still threw caution to the wind and allowed her to pull him along. They found a table in a quiet area and Daphne dumped her book bag on the table before she sat down, pulling Harry into a chair right beside her. They had their backs to the onlookers which was perfectly fine with Harry until he started to think that he wouldn't see the attack coming if there so happened to be one.

Trying to remain calm, he sat back and watched her take her things out of her bag, setting them up rather nearly in front of her. It reminded him of Hermione in a way that really confused him.

Daphne took out a quill, dipped it in ink and wrote down two words on a fresh piece of parchment.

Harry strained his eyes to see the words. Get Granger. He couldn't stop his smile. "Please tell me you aren't thinking of kidnapping her or something," he found himself saying.

Daphne shot him a look before she laughed. "I'm going to let that one slide, Potter, because we've only just become friends, but don't get used to it."

Harry grinned at her, allowing himself to relax. If she or anyone else were going to try anything; they probably would have done it already.

"Now," Daphne said, making a point of turning in her chair to face him. "What are we going to do about your little predicament?"

"What predicament?"

"Potter, even if you won't say it, I know you're in love with Granger. I know. Stop playing dumb. I know. Trust me, I bloody well know."

Harry said nothing.

"Of course, you'll want to nip this stupid romance in the bud before it gets out of hand..."

"I am not going to do anything to sabotage their relationship," he said strongly, shaking his head. He'd given it a lot of thought. In fact, he'd come up with up to a hundred different ways to kill Corner, and not all of them even required the use of magic. "If she wants to be with Corner then she's going to be with Corner."

"But what about you?"

"Hermione needs whatever is going to help her through her recovery," he said. "If it's Corner, who am I to question it? I promised her I wouldn't get in the way if this ever happened."

"Potter, what are you going to do if she actually falls in love with that prick?"

"What could I do, really? I won't be the one to ruin her happiness, Greengrass."

"Even if her happiness is with you?"

Harry didn't respond.

"Fine. No sabotage. You're no fun. Maybe that's why Granger overlooks you."

That sentence stung and Harry had to look away, his insides twisting painfully. He was being overlooked by the one person who always claimed to see him. He might have been the famous Harry Potter who everyone talked about but there was always just one person who always saw him. And now that she wasn't anymore, he was afraid he was going to start to disappear.

Daphne seemed to sense she had gone too far and wasn't sure how to take it back. Before she knew what she was doing, she placed her hand over his on the table and gave a gentle squeeze. "Sorry. Slytherins don't have filters."

Harry stared at their hands, unsure what to feel about being touched by Daphne Greengrass in such a way. It wasn't the same as being touched by Hermione but it was still rather comforting. Even pleasant.

"Maybe we can just work on your essay for now," Harry suggested. "Not that I think I'd be very useful. Potions hasn't really been my strongest subject."

Daphne didn't release his hand. "That's because of Professor Snape, isn't it?"

Harry didn't want to agree. There were many things about Snape that only he knew. "Or I'm just really terrible at Potions."

"I heard you made Polyjuice Potion in second year?"

He let out a light laugh. "Me? Merlin no! That was Hermione. I probably would have killed us all if it were me."

"So you did use Polyjuice Potion? What for?"

"To determine if Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin," he answered easily, suddenly not worried if she knew. It suddenly seemed so unimportant in the great scheme that was his life. "Which he wasn't."

"Because you are?"

Harry shrugged. "No. Tom Riddle was."

"Voldemort." She shuddered at some memory. "I suppose there are a lot of things about you that I don't know."

"Probably. Things get twisted down there in the dungeons, don't they?"

Daphne lifted her hand from his and punched him hard in the arm. "Shut up."

He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling. "What do you think you know about me?" he found himself asking, leaning forward slightly.

Daphne sat up straight, visibly thinking. "The usual, you know? That you've ridden your supposed celebrity status since you were born and that you lived with Dumbledore which was why he always favored you."

Harry stared at her for a moment before he burst out laughing. "You're kidding, right?"

"No."

Harry stopped laughing. "Right, okay, you're serious. Well, both those things are wrong," he said truthfully. "I didn't even know I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday. I didn't know that I was supposedly famous until I first went to Diagon Alley. I spent my life thinking that my parents died in a car accident."

Daphne's brow crinkled.

"I've lived with Muggles my whole life," he continued to explain. "My mother's sister's family." Harry stopped speaking, trying to stop himself from thinking about all the horrible things they'd done to him. "Umm, they weren't very nice people."

Daphne blinked a few times. "Is that why you always came back to school skinny?"

"What?"

"In September, whenever I saw you, you always looked skinnier," she explained. "They didn't feed you, did they?"

Harry let out a troubled breath. "I didn't think you noticed."

"I never really cared until now," she said, shrugging slightly. "We should go back and kill them."

"Don't tempt me," he said with a smirk.

Daphne ruffled through pieces of parchment until she located her Potions essay that she had started the night before. From what Harry could see, she had a complete introduction and a substantial bit of her body. She handed it to Harry. "I got stuck talking about the amount of Gantley Hair one could use without reaching the potency threshold. I want to elaborate a bit more but I'm not sure which direction to take it."

Harry just nodded as he started to read.

Daphne watched him intently, his green eyes darting left and right from behind his round glasses. She found that she was rather nervous having him read over her work. It was stupid but she couldn't help thinking that he would probably judge her on the words he read.

"I like what you say about the newt's eyeballs," Harry eventually said, handing the parchment back to her. "But I'm a little curious about the decision to cite Scofield."

Daphne let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding, her smile dancing on her lips. "You don't like him?"

He shrugged. "I guess I just don't like the font in the book," he said. "I can't get over it enough to gather what he's trying to say."

Daphne laughed at that, shaking her head at his antics. "You're quite strange, Potter."

He shrugged once more. "Go on then, keep writing. You're nowhere near done."

"I'm well aware of that, thank you very much. You're supposed to be helping me!"

Harry placed the essay back onto the table in front of her. "Professor Slughorn mentioned that he was trying to find ways to improve the taste of some of the more vile tasting potions out there. If you can play on those desires, I'm sure he'll be generous with his grading."

Daphne gave him an appreciative look. "Oh, how very Slytherin of you."

And, as Harry chuckled softly, his mind drifted to Luna's words. Is this what she foresaw?

Somehow, Harry doubted it.