Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K.Rowling.
A/N: Another quick update. My dream would be upload all the chapters before the last book comes out, I'll cross my fingers. Anyway, another quite uneventful chapter, but don't desperate. Oh, by the way, sorry for the cliff-hanger.
To Lyndsie Fenele: Thanks again for your help.
Conversation by the Lake
The next morning, when he woke up, Harry hoped that everything was back to normal and that it had all been a nightmare. He hopefully glanced at Ron's bed, but his friend wasn't there, and that meant only one thing.
"Hey, it's almost seven thirty, Harry," said Ron cheerfully, exiting from the bathroom. "Happy that you're awake finally."
Harry glared at him and buried his head under the pillow. He re-emerged only when he heard Ron knocking on the window glass with his hand. "Go away, stupid bird," he was saying.
Harry took the pillow from his head and looked at him. "What are you doing?" he asked sleepily, wearing his glasses.
"There's this stupid owl out the window," he answered, still knocking at the owl that didn't give any signal of wanting to fly away.
Harry looked at the owl out of window and jumped. "Hedwig!" he exclaimed. "Ron, stop it, it's Hedwig, can't you see it?"
"What? You know Granger's owl name?" asked Ron, stopping banging.
"I – what?" Then he suddenly understood something; if it wasn't his owl it must have been Hermione's. "No, no, I got confused."
"Go away," shouted Ron, banging another time on the window. "The girls' dorm is on the other side of the tower."
But the owl didn't seem to have any intentions of going away. Harry looked at it intently. Indeed, it was Hedwig; Hagrid must have bought it for Hermione when he brought her to Diagon Alley before her first year.
"Look, it has a letter tied to its claw," said Ron, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. "Maybe it's for Granger, we can read it," he added maliciously.
"No!" exclaimed Harry. He opened the window and took the letter from the owl, stroking its feathers a bit as he did so. Then he looked at the envelope and read his own name on it. The owl flew away.
"Luckily, you said 'no'," said Ron, laughing. "I was starting to fear that you were still strange like yesterday." He tried to grab the letter from Harry's hands, but he took it away.
Harry glared at him. "It's for me," he snapped. He sat on his bed and opened the letter. In Hermione's neat writing there were only eight words written on the parchment:
Meet me near the Lake after breakfast. Hermione.
Harry looked at Ron. "Do we have something at first hour today?" he asked him hastily.
"Not that I know," answered Ron. "Why?"
"Nothing, I need to see someone," said Harry, starting to dress quickly.
"And is this person called Hermione Granger?" asked Ron, looking at him unkindly.
"Even if it was, it's none of your business," snapped Harry, who was starting to feel really annoyed by that Ron.
"I was just asking," he answered, shrugging.
Harry nodded, then without a further word, he exited the dorm. He climbed down the stairs almost running and crossed the common room, without even minding who he was banging into. Knowing Hermione, she would have already finished her breakfast and now she was waiting for him near the Lake.
He reached the Great Hall and sat down all alone in the middle of the Gryffindor table. He shoved in his mouth as much scrambled eggs as he could afford and then stood up quickly and practically ran towards the door.
"Harry. Hi sweetheart, how are you this morning?" asked Padma, entering the Great Hall right before he could exit, and blocking his way out like a lion to a gazelle.
But Harry didn't have time to play the part of the loving boyfriend at that moment. "Not now, Padma," he snapped, pushing her aside. He walked out of the castle and raced down the hill towards the Lake, and there he spotted her. She was sitting under a tree, with her arms around her legs and her cloak that waving in the morning wind.
"Hermione!" he called out loud, when he was closer to her.
Hermione turned to look at him, but she didn't stand up. And Harry wasn't able to see if she was smiling or not because she turned away almost immediately. When he finally reached her, he placed his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
Hermione didn't move, nor did she look at him.
"Hermione," Harry called her breathlessly. "I got your message."
"I see. You are here, Potter," she said coolly. Harry looked at her, taken a bit aback; her tone of voice made him think that anything she was going to tell him was not good.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked, fearing that she could have come up with the conclusion that she didn't want to listen to him.
Hermione nodded. "Everything is wrong," she muttered bitterly.
Harry sat down next to her. He brought a hand to his chest and felt his own heartbeat; it was so quick he thought that his heart would jump out of his chest at any moment. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
"Why?" he asked patiently.
"Because there's no way that you could have known what I saw when the Portkey brought me to the Riddle's cemetery. That means that you haven't lied and you really are who you said," sentenced Hermione.
"So you believe me, right?" asked Harry, feeling his head suddenly go light.
Hermione nodded. "I think I don't have any another choice than to believe you," she said. "But there's something that I don't understand." She finally looked at him.
"What?" he asked, smiling; he was ready to answer all her questions and doubts.
"What can I do to help you?" she asked simply.
Except this. Harry looked at her, without having a clue what he should answer. He didn't even know why he had told her all those crazy stories, and he was a thousand times grateful that she had believed him, but what Hermione could do to help him was a mystery. "I-I don't know, I thought you could help me make everything go back to normal," he said softly.
"Why do you want everything to go back to normal?" she asked, looking at him with her huge chocolaty eyes.
"What do you mean?" He hadn't thought even for a minute why he wanted to go back to normal.
"You made a wish and that wish came true," she explained. "And now you want to go back and put things exactly like they were before. Why? I'm wondering what do you want then?"
Harry glanced at the Lake. It was nice in that September morning, the rising sun was gradually lightening the whole surface, and in less than a couple of hours its rays would reach them as well.
"You said that you were wondering what I wanted when we had that fight," he said softly. "Now I just want to make things go back to normal. I don't know why."
"Is the world where you live better than this one?" she asked. "Are you a better Chosen One than me?" she added, and Harry couldn't help noticing the fear in her voice.
"I would love to tell you that I am, but I'm not," he said, sighing. "A lot of people have died because I didn't succeed in saving them."
"For example?" she asked in a tiny voice.
Harry flushed. "Dumbledore," he mumbled. "And Cedric Diggory, and Sirius Black."
Hermione looked intently at Harry. "Are you kidding me?" she asked softly.
Harry shook his head. The fact that she found these things so improbable made him feel bad.
Hermione brought both her hands to her mouth, as if she was trying to imagine a world like that. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "If all those people are dead, why do you want to go back to how it was before you made your wish?" she asked.
Harry looked at her, taken aback. He didn't know. All he had thought until that very moment was that Hermione didn't deserve what she was going through, but he hadn't reflected on how much better this place was for everybody. Everybody but the Girl-Who-Lived.
"I wanted to change things again for you," he said softly. "You don't deserve all the things you have gone through."
"So you're feeling guilty, and you think that making things go back to how they were before will make you feel better?" she asked shortly.
"No… yes… I don't know," he confessed. "I hope that too, but firstly I want to see you happy."
Hermione blushed. "What did I do to make you so angry to have wished something so wicked?" The sorrow in her voice was almost concrete.
Now it was Harry's turn to flush. "Nothing," he admitted. "Nothing at all, you were just trying to be my friend and help me, like you've done for the last six years, but I simply snapped at you and said terrible things."
"Are we friends?" she asked softly.
Harry nodded. "You and Ron are my best friends. And the only ones I've ever had."
She tore some grass with her fingers and lowered her head. "And you and I have never been together?" she asked in a bare whisper, if possibly blushing even more than before.
"No," he said hastily. Maybe a bit too hastily.
"Oh," she muttered, and Harry had the sensation that she seemed a bit deluded. "Why?" she asked.
"Because we're friends, very close friends, and because you have a thing for Ron and vice versa," explained Harry.
Hermione looked at him amazed. "Something for Weasley?" she asked. "Now that's impossible."
"It's not. You two didn't speak to each other for months when Ron went out with Lavender and--"
"Weasley went out with Lavender in your world too? And what about me? Did I go out with him?" she asked curiously.
"Not yet," said Harry slowly. "But I'm sure that sooner or later you will."
"Okay," said Hermione unconvinced. "But there's something that I still don't understand."
"What?"
"What will I get back if everything goes back the way it was?" she asked seriously.
"Excuse me?" asked Harry in disbelief. "You'll have your family back, your life will be back to normal and you won't have to fight Voldemort anymore, isn't that enough?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, you're giving all this up. Why?"
Harry looked at her and felt anger boiling inside his veins. "I'm doing all this for you, how can you even ask me something like that?"
"I was just wondering," she answered hastily. "It feels so strange. In less than a day my worst enemy has become the most important person in my life and the one that I can trust most."
"I thought you'd say that your worst enemy was Malfoy," Harry corrected her.
"And I thought you'd have said that it was Voldemort," replied Hermione. "Malfoy is pathetic. He didn't even succeed in doing what Voldemort asked him to do and he gave in right after Christmas."
"Y-you know what he had to do? You know what Voldemort asked him to do?"
Hermione nodded.
"How?"
"Dumbledore knew and he told me," said Hermione calmly. "Malfoy was trying to repair something, but he couldn't find a place to hide it and stress and nervousness finished him."
"Is he dead?" asked Harry quickly.
"No," answered Hermione. "Of course not, but he's at St. Mungo's right now. In the Artifact Accidents ward."
"Artifact Accidents ward?"
"Yes, he was getting impatient and tried the vanishing cabinet before he actually fixed it." Hermione shook her head dramatically. "Let's say that they are still looking for the other half of his body."
Harry looked at her, surprised. Malfoy confined at St. Mungo's? Or better, half of Malfoy confined at St. Mungo's? He was starting to like this world.
Hermione stood up and brushed away some grass from her skirt. "I have to go now," she said resolutely.
"What? Where?" asked Harry, sitting up as well.
"I have Transfiguration," she explained.
"And what about me? I need your help," said Harry, starting to follow
her up the hill towards the castle.
"Potter, I don't have a clue how to help you," she answered truthfully.
"But, Hermione, you're the most intelligent witch of our age, you must have an idea how to fix this mess," he said.
"The best thing that I can think of is to talk to someone," said Hermione thoughtfully.
"Who? Dumbledore?" asked Harry.
"No, you'll see, but now I don't have time," she answered. "Let's meet near the Library after lunch, okay?"
"Okay, I trust you, Hermione," said Harry, smiling.
"Thank you," she answered, flushing. "See you later, Potter."
Harry looked at her climbing up the stairs to the oak door of Hogwarts, and while she was opening it he screamed, "Hermione, call me Harry, okay?"
