Note: For those of you who happened to miss this (though I don't think it's slipped by the nose of ANY halfway decent Harry Potter fan) JKR admitted over last weekend that she should have put Harry and Hermione together and that Ron was all wrong for Hermione and they'd probably have ended up in marriage counseling. (And, fun fact, Emma Watson, who was the one interviewing her, AGREED, and said that she felt Ron couldn't have truly given her what Hermione actually wanted.)

So THERE YOU HAVE IT. Harry and Hermione is how it was REALLY supposed to be. Directly from the author.

I think it's safe to say that news was the highlight of my week and even more of a motivator to keep going with this.

Chapter 21

Hogwarts

Small clumps of snow lingered in patches on the sidewalks of Hogsmeade. Harry and Hermione carefully stepped around them as they walked toward the entrance of the small town, Hogwarts looking as big and powerful as ever in the background. Their trunks floated in front of them, Harry and Hermione each suspending their own with their respective wands.

"I've never seen Hogsmeade so desolate," Harry remarked. "Not to be cliché, but… it's like a ghost town…"

Even as he said it, the caretaker of Zonko's joke shop slammed the door shut as they passed.

"It's the virus, Harry. Even with Slughorn's immunization potion, I'm sure people are still scared," Hermione suggested. "I looked it up, the wizarding community hasn't seen anything like this in over a hundred years. At least not in the British Isles."

"Well, at least we've both got muggle blood in us," Harry supplied hopefully.

When they reached the castle gates, two of the Hogwarts house elves appeared in front of them.

"Howdy-do, Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger!" squeaked the first. Harry recognized her as Winky, the house elf that had served the Crouch family and then been freed to work in the Hogwarts kitchens.

"Hello Winky," he said, smiling. "Good to see you!"

"Master Potter, Miss Granger," said the other, bowing his head.

"Kreacher!" said Hermione, before Harry could say anything. "Oh, Kreacher, how are you?"

"Kreacher has never been better," he drawled. Harry remembered telling Kreacher after the war that he would rather have him stay at Hogwarts than to live with him in England. He felt Kreacher would be far less bored and have much more to do at Hogwarts. Kreacher had obeyed, as he had to, but Harry knew Kreacher's loyalty would always be to him.

"Winky will take Mister Potter and Miss Granger inside the castle and Kreacher is happy to take your trunks to your quarters!" Winky said, positively beaming. Kreacher gave a slow nod and snapped his fingers – and then quite suddenly, he and both of their trunks were gone.

Winky was looking up at Harry and Hermione expectantly, holding up her hands.

"No time to waste, Winky has orders to bring you to the headmistress as soon as possible!" she chirped.

"Well come on, then," Hermione barked at Harry, and they each grabbed one of Winky's hands.

Within seconds, they were standing in Dumbledore's office. No, no, it's McGonagall's office now, Harry reminded himself. He sighed inwardly – he doubted he would ever stop thinking of it as Dumbledore's. He scanned the room briefly and his eyes landed on Dumbledore's sleeping portrait. As he was examining it, he saw the portrait of Dumbledore open one eye, raise an eyebrow, and smile at him. Harry smiled back before jumping at the sound of Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Thank you, Winky, that will be all."

"Of course, Madame," squeaked the house elf, and disappeared.

Professor McGonagall stepped fluidly around Harry and Hermione, stopping in front of her desk and facing them. It had only been four years, but Harry couldn't believe how much older she looked. She still carried herself with dignity, to be sure, but either the years that passed or the strains of being headmistress – or perhaps both – had definitely taken their toll on her and showed in the deeper lines on her face.

"Let me start by thanking you both for agreeing to do this on such short notice," she began.

"Absolutely, Professor," Harry said.

"Minerva will do," she said, and smiled. "While I appreciate the respect, I am no longer your teacher."

"Of course, sorry…"

He glanced over at Hermione, who was looking avidly at McGonagall and paying rapt attention. Naturally, as soon as she was back inside the castle, Hermione was fully and totally in her element. He could hardly believe she had been considering declining the offer.

"Now, as you both know, you're here on a temporary assignment," she began. "As yet, we do not know when any of the ill teachers will return. St. Mungo's has not yet made much progress on a cure for the virus, so I'd venture to say you can expect to be here for several weeks, at the very least."

They both nodded.

"I have taken the liberty of compiling the assignments that have already been completed this year by each student level in your respective subjects, so you have an idea of where to start," she continued. "I suggest you take the weekend to start beginning on lesson plans…"

A loud pop interrupted her. Winky had returned, bearing another guest.

"Neville!" Hermione cried, and jumped onto him. Harry could hardly believe his eyes as he watched Neville wrap his arms around Hermione to return the hug.

"Hey Hermione, Hey Harry!" he said, as Hermione disentangled herself. Harry pulled him into a hug as well.

"Neville, what are you…" Harry started, but McGonagall interrupted.

"Mr. Longbottom has agreed to fill the empty Herbology position," she explained. "Professor Sprout always had nothing but wonderful things to say about you even after you left Hogwarts," she said to Neville, and he beamed his usual crooked smile.

"As I was saying, you'll have the weekend to work on some lesson plans. Your belongings should have already been taken to your quarters in the teacher's corridor on the fifth floor. Ordinarily we have staff meetings on the first of every month, but we'll be having one tomorrow afternoon to re-acquaint you with the staff and with the teacher's policies here at Hogwarts."

Hermione looked like she might be about to say something, but the sound of the office door opening behind them cut her short.

"About time, Horace!" McGonagall chided. Harry turned around to see Professor Slughorn making his way into the office, with three small vials in his hand.

"So sorry, Minerva, this last batch took a little longer than expected to mature…" he said. Turning his gaze to Harry, he continued. "Harry, m'boy! So good to see you, glad to have you back with us in the castle. And you, as well, Hermione!"

"Thank you, sir," they both replied, out of habit.

"And you… er, Newton, was it?" Slughorn stumbled, looking at Neville.

"Neville," he corrected him.

"Ah, yes, right right, can't remember everyone anymore, my memory's starting to go!" he said, and then looked back at McGonagall. "None of the three of them have been around anyone since arriving, have they?"

"It is my assumption that all three went straight through Hogsmeade and were brought directly into my office from the castle entrance," McGonagall supplied. "I trust none of you spoke to or saw anyone while in the village?" she asked them. All of them shook their heads to say no.

"Wonderful! I'll just need the three of you to all drink up, then…" Slughorn said, passing out the vials. "This is the immunizing potion that the rest of the castle has taken."

"But Hermione and I have muggle parentage," Harry said. "We shouldn't need it, should we?"

Neville, who had drank his vial almost before Slughorn's hand had left it, said, "I don't know about you, but my parents and my gran are all pureblood, so I could definitely use it!"

"Besides, we'd better not take any chances," added Hermione, and drank hers as well. Shrugging, Harry also knocked it back. It was relatively tasteless, thank goodness.

"Now, there's one more thing that needs arranging," McGonagall said. "We have named Rolanda Hooch as our temporary Hufflepuff Head of House and Septima Vector as the temporary Head of Ravenclaw House. However, we have no remaining teachers that resided in Gryffindor House during their time here as students, besides myself, to name Head of Gryffindor House in the absence of Hadrian Maelyss. As I cannot be both Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, we must name someone, and as I'm sure you've guessed, it needs to be one of you three."

Harry raised his eyebrows and caught a glance of Hermione, whose eyes had gotten much wider. On her other side, Neville looked absolutely petrified.

"However," she continued, "since I would rather not put any additional strain on someone who might not want it, I will leave it up to you three to decide which of you would rather take on that responsibility."

Neville spoke up immediately, turning to Harry and Hermione. "I think either one of you would be way better of a choice than me."

"Absolutely it should be Harry!" piped up Slughorn, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders. "He's a born leader, aren't you, Harry?"

"Hermione also has a great deal of intelligence and talent," McGonagall reminded him. "If Neville truly doesn't want the responsibility, I am sure that Harry and Hermione will make a decision that best fits them both."

Harry and Hermione gave each other a sideways glance. This was an unexpected turn of events, to be sure.

"If you two could let me and the rest of the staff know your decision by tomorrow at the meeting, that would be perfect," McGonagall finished. "Now, I believe that's everything we needed… Winky will lead you to the teacher's corridor. We have spent the last few days removing all the personal items of their previous occupants and moving them to their wards at St. Mungo's, so you should find them all rather empty except for the furniture."

Winky had appeared as soon as McGonagall had said her name.

"Winky will show you the way!" she chirped, and beckoned them all to follow her out of the office.

Eventually, they arrived at a portrait of a knight atop a horse, carrying his helmet under his arm. Upon seeing them, he smiled and said, "Ah! You must be the newcomers! Sir Benedict Wedgemore, at your service!"

"Sir Benedict is very nice," explained Winky, beaming up at Harry, Hermione, and Neville. "The password for this week is Elysium, but it will change tomorrow!"

"Why tomorrow?" asked Neville.

"The headmistress changes it at every staff meeting," Sir Benedict explained, still smiling. "Enjoy your stay," he added, swinging inward and allowing them into the corridor.

Unlike the four Houses, which all had common rooms, this portrait led only to an empty hallway.

"Heads of Houses all have rooms on the right," said Winky, and let them to the end of the corridor.

"But McGonagall said only one of us would be Head of House," objected Neville.

"It was less complicated for the Headmistress to simply put you into the rooms of the teachers you would be replacing," Winky explained, "especially since the true Heads of Houses should be eventually returning." In front of them were four doors. On the far left was a green door, with a wooden plaque that had SLUGHORN engraved on it, encircled by a snake.

Next was a golden door, with the engraving SPROUT. A badger sat atop the plaque. Beneath it, a piece of parchment was affixed to the door that said "LONGBOTTOM."

After that was a blue door, engraved with FLITWICK. An eagle with its wings outstretched was over the plaque, as if it were carrying it in flight. The parchment on this door was marked "GRANGER."

Finally, on the far right, was a deep red door with a plaque that said MAELYSS. A lion crouched on the top of this one, as if ready to pounce. And, of course, there was a parchment underneath marked "POTTER."

It was actually quite surreal, once Harry started thinking about it. It might only be temporary, but seeing that door with his name on it… it was almost other-worldly.

"The headmistress plans to formally introduce masters Potter and Longbottom and madame Granger to the school at dinner tomorrow evening, so until then, Winky will bring meals to you here!" she said. "Call if you have need of anything, anything at all!"

And she vanished.

"Is this really happening?" Neville asked. "Us… teachers?"

He was staring avidly at the yellow door.

"I'm having trouble wrapping my head around it, too," Harry admitted.

"What do you think, Hermione?" Neville asked. When she didn't immediately respond, Harry looked over at her and saw that she was biting her lip and appeared to be fighting back tears.

"I'm… I'm going to go look at my room," she choked out, and then disappeared through the blue door.

Harry and Neville both stared at the spot where she had been.

"So happy she could cry?" Neville suggested.

Harry, though he had the feeling that it was quite the opposite, said, "Yeah, I guess," and then went through the red door.

He was met by what looked like a miniaturized version of the Gryffindor common room. Red and gold plated paper adorned the walls. There was a roaring fireplace to the right with a huge cherry mantle piece and a large cherry desk next to it, and to the left was an enormous four-poster bed with red dressings accompanied by a cherry wardrobe. Unlike the twin-sized beds for students, however, this one was a king-size. Directly across from him, on the far wall, were two French doors leading to a balcony. The gold curtains were open, and he could see the sun setting over the vast lake that was home to so many creatures, including the thousands of merpeople that had held Ron and Hermione captive in his fourth year during the Triwizard tournament…

Hermione…

Assuming that Neville wasn't still standing out in the corridor alone staring at his yellow door, Harry turned around and peeked his head out of his door. Seeing that it was empty, he stepped over to Hermione's door and gently knocked.

"Hermione? It's me… Are you okay?"

There was no vocal answer, but he heard the lock click and the door opened a crack. He hesitantly pushed it open to see Hermione sitting on a king-size four-poster bed just like his. In fact, her room looked identical to his, except everything was dressed in blue and silver instead of red and gold.

Hermione was sitting with her feet dangling off the edge, staring down at her hands, clutching her wand. Not sure what to say, Harry simply sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She angrily wiped at the tears staining her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I'm sorry…"

"Hermione, why? What do you have to be sorry for?"

"For crying, for being so sensitive and stupid…"

Harry said nothing.

"I just… I can't believe this is happening. Again," she said flatly.

"I… I don't…"

"We're apart!" she shrieked, and pulled away to look Harry in the eyes. "This stupid godforsaken position he's accepted in Germany… the bloody bastard doesn't even care…"

Suddenly it made more sense. He remembered Hermione telling him that after she'd gone home to discuss things with Ron, he'd told her he'd be moving to Germany, and hadn't consulted her on the decision. So she was not only upset that she was now apart from Ron, but that he seemed to care so little that they were, indeed, separated by his choice. Harry had a feeling Hermione would never have so brazenly accepted McGonagall's offer if she didn't know that Ron would have been leaving in a few weeks for Germany. He was still home in London for now, but he would be leaving after the following week.

"Hermione, I'm sure he cares, don't say that…"

"He's been different ever since he's been home. Haven't you noticed?" she demanded. Having not had a whole lot of time alone with Ron in the month he'd been home, Harry felt he wasn't exactly well equipped to answer that question.

"What do you mean?"

"It's… it's like it was after that stupid Quidditch match. The one where you pretended to give him Felix Felicis. After he was so haughty and arrogant and just… ugh!"

Yes, Harry vividly remembered that day, but not because of the way Ron had been acting after the match…

"I'm never going to leave you, Harry," Hermione whispered. Harry swore she was getting closer to him.

"I know…" he whispered back. Was he getting closer to her? Was that just his imagination?

"Harry…"

"Hermione…"

He watched her eyes flutter closed and his followed suit as their lips touched hesitantly…

Realizing Hermione was still talking, he struggled to bring himself out of the memory of that stolen kiss in the Astronomy tower.

"He's just… all he talks about is how he can't wait to go on another mission, or how he's sorry he can't tell me about it, or about exactly how dangerous it was… As if we haven't all been through dangerous crap in the last ten years… No, somehow this was different, it was better, because for once, he was the hero…"

Harry furrowed his brow and was glad Hermione wasn't looking at him so she couldn't see his reaction. This was going in a direction he didn't think was entirely accurate.

"Hermione…"

Not caring about whatever it was Harry was going to say (and he wasn't exactly sure what he'd planned on, anyway), she kept going. She was now pacing back and forth while Harry sat helpless on the bed.

"He's just… he's lived in the shadow of his older brothers his whole childhood, and then he gets a chance to go to school and prove himself, and who does he meet and befriend but bloody Harry James Potter, the savior of the whole godforsaken wizarding world, and then he has to endure his adolescence being the lackey of The Boy Who Lived…"

"Hey!"

"Of course I'm not blaming you at all," she plowed on, still not caring to look at him. "You did everything you did because you had to, you didn't want fame or glory, but we both know Ron didn't always see it that way…"

Harry's memory uncomfortably shifted to the day that Ron had pulled him out of that lake in the Forest of Dean and he'd been confronted with the locket. Hadn't the shred of Voldemort's soul inside it sadistically looked into Ron's heart, seen how jealous he was of Harry, and tormented him? Hadn't it tried to say Harry was better, even that the woman he loved preferred Harry to him?

And then something occurred to Harry that he'd never thought of before.

The locket had been in the tent that night. The night he and Hermione had… by the fire… it was there. Had it… somehow… known? Had it not shown them to Ron, embracing, kissing… just the way they really had, lying by the fire… Harry shuddered to think what more the locket might have shown if Ron hadn't destroyed it.

And what had Harry said, after Ron had smashed the stupid, tormenting thing… while his best friend was crying and Harry was just feeling grateful the night by the fire was not the night Ron chose to be a hero, he'd assured Ron he only loved Hermione as a sister.

In retrospect, though, he probably did still believe that back then. He and Hermione had, only a few weeks ago, agreed to chalk up that experience to raging hormones, loneliness, and being petrified of death.

Quite suddenly, he was tripped up on the fact that he'd just admitted to himself that he loved Hermione as quite a lot more than a sister, by feeling guilty for thinking he'd lied to Ron about saying it was only platonic then, and then assuring himself that, then, it was platonic, but now…

"Are you even listening to me?"

He wasn't entirely sure of what she'd said while he'd been lost in thought, but he was fairly certain it couldn't have deviated very much from the train she'd been on, so he attempted to craft a response.

"Hermione, I had no idea Ron was acting like this. It might be just a phase. It might not. But if it keeps up, you need to … to talk to him about it or something. Make him understand that he's been a prick. He might have had to live… in my shadow, so to speak, while we were teenagers but… he's his own person now. He's allowed to have his own accomplishments without feeling like he's competing with me, and if he really feels that way, he's got it all wrong."

It was unbelievable how much the past was coming back to haunt them all in the last few weeks. Voldemort might be dead, but their memories were clearly all alive and well.

"I know I need to talk to him, but how am I supposed to do that now that I'm here and in a week he'll be in Germany? Any time I see him I'll just be so glad to spend time with him, the last thing I'll want to do is start a row…"

Harry took a deep breath and stood up. Slowly, he walked toward Hermione and gently removed her wand from her hand. He placed it on the bedside table, and then wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him. She sighed and seemed to melt into him, allowing her body to relax into his.

"Just try and relax, Hermione," Harry said quietly. "Tomorrow is a big day, and it's a big deal that we're here. You've got to be focused and not worry about what's going on everywhere else. And if there's anyone I know who can focus, it's you."

"Speaking of focus, we still have to decide which of us is going to be Head of House," she mumbled.

"We actually have to talk about that?" Harry asked incredulously. "I thought it was understood that we were going to say you were doing it."

Affronted, she pulled away and looked at him. "That's nonsense, Harry! You're the absolute embodiment of a Gryffindor, there's no reason you couldn't be Head of House."

He wasn't sure about the whole "embodiment of Gryffindor" bit, but he'd let that one go.

"But Heads of House are supposed to take charge, to be able to make decisions and lead students," he countered. "You're far better at decision making and taking charge."

"Says the man who led Dumbledore's Army and defeated Voldemort," she shot back, but there was more pride in her voice than malice. "Harry, you are who all those little first years would want as a Head of House. Everyone in this castle has grown up hearing about you. The older ones were here at the same time that you were, they were the first and second years in your fifth and sixth year. Some of them might even have seen you kill him that night."

Harry wasn't sure what to say.

"It's you they want to see, Harry," she said. "You've been the natural leader of Gryffindor House since the moment the Sorting Hat put you there ten years ago."

"Just because I'm who they want doesn't mean I'd do a good job of it," he grumbled, but he knew that was a weak defense in the face of all the things she'd just tossed at him.

"Harry, I'm just a teacher. I'm intelligent, I'm bossy, I'm organized," she said. "But you… You're a leader. You're brave, you're bold, you're self-assured. That's what makes a Head of House."

He thought about making the argument that most of his past successes were just luck, but he stopped. Hadn't it been Harry who had decided they were going down the trap door to find the Sorcerer's Stone? He who opened the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny? He who dove into the Whomping Willow to save Ron's life when Sirius had dragged him in there as a dog? He who had consistently tried to save people he wasn't supposed to in the Triwizard tournament? He who had insisted on traveling to the Department of Mysteries? He who had been determined to find every last Horcrux that Voldemort had created and had tried to deny the offers of help from his friends in order to protect them?

Had he not been the one to walk into the Dark Forest, prepared to die for the greater good, and then be the one to kill Voldemort?

He might have had luck and help to finish all of those things, but he sure as hell started every one of them because of his own boldness and bravery.

"All right," he conceded. "I'll do it, but only because I know it's temporary."

For the first time since he'd been in her room, she smiled.