Once more, fredfred deserves a lot of thanks for beta-reading. His help and insight has improved the story a lot.


Chapter 29: Relationships

Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Britain, January 11th, 1997

Narcissa Malfoy née Black kept her - expected - expression of sorrow and mourning until Draco, Lucius and herself returned to their home. It wouldn't have done to even hint at a smile when attending Dumbledore's funeral. Not when the mudblood-loving fool was currently considered Britain's greatest hero.

Once she was in the entrance hall of her manor, though, she dropped the facade and schooled her features into a cool and composed expression - as befitted a pureblood witch of good breeding. She had not forgotten what her mother and aunt had taught her: a daughter of an Old Family was always in control - of her appearance, her temper and her magic.

"So, with Dumbledore dead and you ruling the Ministry, can I finally teach Potter and the blood traitors their place again?"

Even if her darling son made it difficult at times. Like today. Draco was a wonderful wizard and a loving child, but his temper suited a Gryffindor more than a Slytherin.

"No, Draco," Lucius said in a firm voice.

"Why not? You said that the Dark Lord had betrayed us and was worse than Dumbledore. That's why you worked with the Headmaster! But now they are both dead!"

She smiled at Draco. "They are dead, and your father is the most influential wizard in the Wizengamot, but that doesn't mean that he can do as he wishes." Fudge might be pliable, but manipulating the Minister still took a certain amount of finesse and caution.

"Why not?"

She frowned at him. "Do not whine. It doesn't become the scion of the Malfoy family. And it doesn't fit the last pureblood heir of the Black family either." Unless her rotten cousin managed to beget a child on his French whore.

He sulked, but he didn't whine.

"I'll explain," Lucius said. "Let's go to the salon. Dobby!"

A moment later, the house-elf's voice piped up from behind a curtain. "Yes, Master?"

"We'll be having a few refreshments in the salon."

"Yes, Master."

When they arrived a few minutes later in the salon, three trays with tea and confectionery were laid out next to the sofa and Lucius's seat, though Narcissa could just discern the movement of the curtain in the corner. Dobby meant well, but he was no Kreacher.

He did brew acceptable tea, at least. And could cook well, Narcissa reminded herself while nibbling on a scone as Lucius filled her cup.

"So… why can't we oust the Weasleys?"

She frowned at her son to remind him to wait patiently for his parents to start talking as Lucius cleared his throat.

"In fact, we took you home with us for this afternoon to discuss that exact topic. It goes without saying that you shouldn't tell anyone that we didn't stay in Hogsmeade." Lucius nodded and took a sip from his cup with perfect poise. "While my actions in the conflict with the Dark Lord have earned our family a great deal of prestige and influence, Dumbledore's heroic death and Potter killing the - although greatly weakened - Dark Lord means that Black and his ilk have profited from the battle's outcome as well."

Which was a very unfortunate outcome in Narcissa's opinion. Her husband had been the one to risk his life and soul daily for a year to spy on the Dark Lord. He had been the one who had lured that madman into the ambush, at even greater risk. And, most importantly, he had been the one to reveal the Dark Lord's Horcruxes to Dumbledore. Without Lucius, the Dark Lord would have still been as immortal as he had thought himself to be when he walked into the Ministry. All Sirius had done was absorb a few curses in the battle while casting some of his own - as typical for a Gryffindor. He hadn't even had the grace to die heroically and leave the Black family fortune to Narcissa.

"But shouldn't you have moved against them, then, instead of helping Black's mudblood return to Hogwarts?" Draco put his teacup down and Narcissa refilled it with a flick of her wand.

"I did, Draco." Lucius smiled. "It may look like I supported Black, but instead, I have hurt him. The Wizengamot is now convinced that pardoning Black's thieving pet mudblood was only done as a favour to Black. Taking notes and handling mail for your betters certainly is not a heroic deed worthy of redemption."

"Ah!"

Narcissa made a mental note to give Draco a few more lessons in hiding his reactions. He was too open with his emotions.

"So, not only will many of my 'esteemed colleagues' feel that Black spent a sizeable amount of the political capital he gained from his own actions during the battle on helping out his mudblood mistress, but I also countered his plans to have the mudblood's case reviewed."

"Reviewed?"

"There was a slight possibility that the girl's conviction might have been overturned, depending on what evidence Dumbledore had collected during the years since," Lucius explained. "While I made sure that our part in those events was covered by the blanket pardon Dumbledore granted me in exchange for spying on the Dark Lord, certain friends of ours would not have fared as well."

Draco blinked, then nodded. "Pansy, Daphne, Tracey and Bulstrode."

"Their families," Narcissa cut in, "would have been forced to return the compensation they were awarded."

"By granting the mudblood a pardon, though," Lucius went on, "I nipped that in the bud."

And, Narcissa knew, he had hastened the decline of Sirius's influence.

"But the mudblood's still returning to Hogwarts." Draco huffed. "And everyone thinks Potter is a big hero!"

"That couldn't have been avoided," Lucius retorted. "Which is why I didn't oppose it. Never waste your gold and influence fighting the inevitable, Draco. Always go with the tide and use the currents to your best advantage."

Draco nodded, but Narcissa knew that it would be best to drive this lesson home. "Which, in this case, means that those families are in our debt twice - once for your father saving them from prosecution, and once for saving their reputation and their gold." It was a very good thing that no one but the Dark Lord had known the identities of all his followers.

"Ah!" Draco smiled widely.

Narcissa knew that smile - and frowned at him. "That does not mean that you should antagonise them, Draco, by wounding their pride. All of them are Old Families, and while they owe us, that does not mean we can order them around." Not without causing so much resentment that it wasn't worth the trouble. Her son pouted, and so she smiled and reached over to ruffle his hair.

"Don't fret, Draco. Their families will be aware of these debts, and I have no doubt that they'll instruct your friends to treat you accordingly. A lighter touch will net you more than acting like a Gryffindor."

Judging by the horrified expression on her son's face at being compared to Gryffindors, this was a lesson he would not forget. Unlike, also obvious due to his grimace, his last lesson on keeping his emotions hidden.


Hogwarts, January 11th, 1997

"She doesn't want to return to Hogwarts!" Harry Potter gestured with his left arm as he paced inside the area of his privacy spell in the Gryffindor common room. He barely noticed one of the lower years nearby flinching - and didn't care; it had taken days to get the other students to stop bothering him about the battle in the Ministry. "She's finally pardoned, her expulsion reversed, but she doesn't want to return!" He didn't understand Hermione. She loved school! And she loved Hogwarts! He turned to stare at Ron. "Why?"

"Well, she said that she wouldn't fit in any more," Ron answered. "That she's used to…"

"I know what she said," Harry interrupted him. "But I don't believe it! She was mad about her O.W.L. results, and blamed them on having a tutor! And now she refuses to come to the best school in the world?" She couldn't really prefer a tutor to Hogwarts! Especially with Snape gone.

"She'd be behind in a few subjects," Ron retorted, but he was shrugging even before Harry could tell him off for that. "I don't get it either, OK?"

Harry huffed. "She could easily catch up by the end of this year, and she'd be ready for seventh year. Probably be ahead of everyone, too." He had told her that, too.

"Maybe she has a muggle boyfriend and doesn't want to leave him?" Romilda said.

"She doesn't have a boyfriend," Harry corrected her. "She said so herself." He shook his head. "No, that isn't it. Maybe…" He clenched his teeth and cut himself off. Hermione wouldn't be as petty as to abandon Hogwarts - to abandon the opportunity to join him and Ron, her best friends - just because she was an adult and didn't want to have a curfew again.

"Maybe she misses her parents?" Luna asked.

He turned to look at her. She had stopped poking through the magazines the Gryffindors had collected in the room - 'the Gryffindor library', she had called it on her first visit - and smiled at him. "What?" he asked.

"Her parents left Britain half a year ago, didn't they? So the Death Eaters wouldn't be able to find them," Luna said. Harry didn't think they had ever told her the real reason for the Granger's 'vacation'. He glanced at Ron, who looked as surprised as Harry at that. So, no.

"Yes?" Harry didn't know what Luna meant. "But they would be able to return now…" He blinked. Hermione's parents would be able to return, but if she were at Hogwarts, she wouldn't be able to see them. Ron still looked puzzled. As did Romilda.

Luna nodded several times. "She isn't used to being away from her parents, is she?"

Harry sighed. That made some sense. Not too much, but some. He was glad he hadn't blown up at Hermione when she had told them about her decision. Not too much, at least.

But he still wanted Hermione to return to Hogwarts. To be with him. And with Ron. But he couldn't fault her for choosing to be with her parents instead. He'd do the same, after all.

Sighing, he sat down in his armchair, then gasped, surprised, when Romilda moved to sit in his lap after he had closed his eyes for a moment. He frowned at her, but she smirked, unimpressed, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders before kissing him.

He was already kissing her back when he heard Luna pipe up: "Good idea!", followed by Ron making a surprised noise.


Hogwarts, January 14th, 1997

"This is Mr Biggles," Luna said, holding out a small green snake to Harry Potter.

"Mr Biggles?" Harry stared at the snake.

"Yes?" the snake answered.

"That's your name?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, what's he saying?" Luna said.

"He confirmed that he's Mr Biggles," Harry answered.

"Of course he would!" Luna replied, nodding firmly.

"How did you know his name?" Harry asked.

"Well, he looks like a Mr Biggles, doesn't he?" she answered.

Harry decided not to pry further. The snake's name didn't matter. All that mattered was that he learned how not to speak Parseltongue whenever he saw a snake.

Which, he soon found out, wasn't as easy as he had thought.

After an hour of fruitless attempts to not hiss at Mr Biggles, he handed him back to Luna. "Thank you."

She smiled at him and cooed at the snake. "Bye-bye, Mr Biggles. You will now be staying with your new friend, Harry." She patted the snake's head with one finger, then smiled at Harry. "Take good care of him, he's a nice snake."

Harry blinked. He opened his mouth to explain that he couldn't keep a snake with him - he was a Gryffindor, and even if he managed to hide Mr Biggles, he couldn't risk accidentally outing himself, but Ron was shaking his head behind Luna.

Harry took the snake back with a forced smile.

He had to talk to Sirius. Or Hermione.


Longford, Heathrow Airport, Britain, January 27th, 1997

"Dad! Mum!"

Hermione Granger's parents had barely made it out of the arrival gate when she jumped them - literally, in her dad's case.

"Ooof!" He staggered back, almost stumbling into their trolley in the process, before he recovered his balance and managed to return her hug. "Careful! You're not as little as you were when we left."

She ignored his comment and squeezed a little harder, then released him and hugged her mother. "Mum!"

"Hermione!"

Both were wiping tears from their eyes after Hermione released them.

"Well, that's a good way to start making up for cutting our vacation short!" Dad said, but when Hermione pouted at him she couldn't help but notice that his eyes also looked rather wet. "I'm joking."

"You're trying to joke," she corrected him. "Let's go; the car's waiting."

"The car?"

"Sirius hired a limousine. With a chauffeur," she added. Her parents exchanged a glance, and Hermione sighed. "I tried telling him that we'd be fine with a cab." She shrugged. "You know how he is."

"I guess we should be grateful that he didn't remodel the house in our absence," Dad said.

She flinched.

"Dear, that was your cue to laugh." Mum was frowning now.

Hermione sighed. "We just improved its security." Mostly. The escape tunnels were hidden and wouldn't inconvenience anyone. And they needed more shelves for the books she had bought anyway. Now if only there were a way to get the telly working inside wards...

Two hours later, they were sitting at the dining table - also new - and drinking tea. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Stop griping about the furniture! Or the tea set!" It wasn't as if she had taken the new additions from the loot from her heists - she knew better than that.

Mum sighed. "It's just… we already owe Mr Black so much."

"I owe him so much," Hermione corrected her. "You don't owe him anything."

"We'll have to agree to disagree about that," Dad said.

She frowned at him, but if he hadn't seen reason after a discussion lasting half an hour in the car, reiterating her arguments once again wouldn't do much good. "So," she changed the subject, "you know that the Dark Lord is dead, and the danger from his followers is mostly gone."

"Mostly."

She nodded at him. "Yes, mostly. The Ministry's still looking for surviving moles, but we can safely assume that none of them are willing to risk exposing themselves by avenging their master." They would have been ordered to fight in that case - Voldemort had had to resort to mercenaries to bolster his ranks.

"I don't think there would be much risk to them in going after a pair of muggles."

Hermione didn't wince. Her mum was sharp. "No, but that's where the enhanced security comes in."

"I thought that would mean we couldn't use electronics inside the house." Dad wasn't slow either.

"Only wards have that effect. But Sirius hired a pair of wizards as guards for you." She saw her parents' expression and hastily continued. "Not like bodyguards. They're just keeping an eye on the house and the office - you know, patrolling. Checking out the neighbours, casting alarm charms at night…"

Judging by the way Mum was pressing her lips together and Dad was looking for his scotch, it was time to change the subject again.

"Also, while I've received a pardon and my expulsion was reversed, I will not be returning to Hogwarts. I'll stay in London with you, and continue my studies with my tutor and work for Sirius." And she would be able to visit muggle London and Diagon Alley whenever she wanted, instead of being confined to Hogwarts. Officially, at least - it wasn't as if she couldn't already come and go as she pleased at night.

Hermione smiled brightly at them. Fortunately, they took that news very well - much better than Harry and Ron had - and she didn't have to explain her real reasons for not returning to Hogwarts.

Because her parents wouldn't have reacted well to her planning to finish her training as a professional thief. Not at all.


Hogwarts, January 30th, 1997

"...and I want you to write two feet about the effects of Stunners on a Shield Charm for next week."

Harry Potter didn't groan at the homework assignment, unlike most of the class. Nor did he rush out of the Defence classroom as soon as he had written down the instructions. Instead, he waited until everyone but Ron and himself had left.

"Do you have questions about the lesson?" Remus asked as he cast a quick Mending Charm on the training dummy Seamus had accidentally scorched during the lesson and floated it back to where the rest of them were stored.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head.

"We learned that over a year ago," Ron added.

Harry nodded - Remus had taught them that himself, after all.

"You still have to write the essay," Remus said.

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't comment; he and Ron had argued at length that they should be allowed to skip such homework, but Remus hadn't budged. Apparently, with Voldemort dead, they didn't need special exemptions any more.

"Just because you can use it in practice doesn't mean you can skimp on the theory; both are required for your N.E.W.T.s," Remus continued. "But if you don't have any questions about the essay, what questions do you have?"

Harry quickly cast a privacy charm. "Did Tonks get our copies of the Auror handbook?"

Remus frowned at him. "It's barely been a week since she returned to work, and you expect her to violate regulations and copy manuals for you? And, anyway, why would you think that I would know anything about that?"

"Please," Harry said. "We saw you together in St Mungo's."

Remus narrowed his eyes. "Did you use your Cloak to spy on us?"

Harry grinned. "No. I was bluffing, but you just confirmed it." Sirius had told him, but Harry's godfather wasn't the most dependable source where relationships were concerned. He still claimed that Hermione had a crush on Harry.

"You make a cute couple," Ron added. "Luna said so."

Harry knew that this wasn't the time to make jokes about matching scars. Even though Remus had claimed that a few more scars wouldn't matter given how many he had already had before the Battle of the Ministry when Sirius had joked about witches thinking scars were sexy.

Remus snorted. "Luna also thinks Thestrals are cute."

"Well…" Ron shrugged. "They have a sort of charm."

"I'll take your word for it," Harry said. He had no intention of feeding or petting the things - 'getting to know them', as Luna called it. "So… Tonks hasn't brought you the manuals yet."

"No, she hasn't," Remus said. "And you better not bother her about it - she's still on light duty."

The way Remus bared his teeth was not even close to a friendly smile and he was growling, Harry realised, despite the full moon having been a week ago. Harry nodded quickly before leaving with his friend.

"Well, I guess we'll have to be patient," Ron said outside the classroom. "Never thought I'd miss Moody's lesson so much."

Harry nodded. "I wish they'd finish the mole hunt at the Ministry."

"Won't help," Ron said. "Percy told me that they lost too many Aurors; Moody's going to be very busy until the next class finishes the Auror course."

Harry sighed. "It's weird, having so much free time and nothing to do. Other than school."

"And spending time with our girlfriends," Ron said.

"Right."


When Harry Potter entered the Gryffindor common room with Ron, he found Romilda waiting for him. She stood as soon as she saw him and started to walk towards him. Her friends - Cerys and Carol - waved at him, and he nodded back at them before kissing his girlfriend. "Hi."

"Hi." She beamed at him. "Do you have Quidditch training later?"

He shook his head. "Not today. Do you want to do a little flying?"

She nodded. "I'd love to."

"Unless you want to do something else," Harry added belatedly.

"No, no. Let's go flying!"

"Alright. Let me drop off my books and get my broom." Harry kissed her again, then went up the stairs.

When he dropped his book bag on his bed, he saw Ron stuffing a chess board into his pocket. He looked at it, then at Ron.

"Luna and I are going to play a few games of exchange chess. We're going to trounce Cho and Marietta," Ron answered with a grin.

"I'm going flying with Romilda," Harry said.

"You're lucky that she loves flying as much as you do," Ron said. "Luna likes playing chess, but not as often as I'd like."

Harry grinned and waved as Ron left, then went and grabbed his Quidditch goggles for Romilda - the enchantments on his glasses were good enough for flying.

Maybe some Quidditch goggles would make a good Valentine gift for Romilda, Harry thought as he left his room. As often as they went flying together, she certainly could use some.


London, Merton, January 31st, 1997

Hermione Granger loved that her parents were back from their 'protective vacation', as her dad called it, and that she was once again living with them - part-time, at least. While she was a witch and would never seriously contemplate abandoning magic or the magical world, she had missed being able to watch the BBC at home and use a computer. And being able to explore the rapidly growing 'Internet', as it was called - even though her collection of books had finally caught up and then exceeded her original collection, and she had usually bought at least The Times while staying at Grimmauld Place.

However, shopping for groceries as a muggle didn't fall amongst those parts of muggle culture that she had missed. Passing through aisles stuffed with goods, most of them things she didn't need nor want, listening to fragments of pop songs when passing people who had to be deaf already judging by the volume of their headphones and trying to get around the other customers of the supermarket who were blocking the aisles was testing her patience. It would be so easy to simply summon everything she needed. Or delegate the whole task to Kreacher, if this were a shop in Diagon Alley.

She should never have volunteered to do the grocery shopping when Mum had called and told her that she'd be late today - a boy had had an accident on the playground that had smashed his front teeth. Something magic would have been able to fix in five minutes, too.

She grabbed the last item on her list - olive oil - and proceeded to steer her shopping trolley towards the checkout, cutting off the old lady who had spent far too many minutes deciding between two brands of detergent a little earlier, in the process blocking Hermione. Her smile at that small piece of payback - the woman was buying dog food, too! - vanished as soon as she turned the corner of the last aisle and saw that only two tills were staffed, both with a long queue of waiting customers.

Five minutes worth, maybe ten - why were people doing their weekly shopping on a Friday afternoon? Hermione sighed as she picked the left queue, then bit her lower lip. Could she risk getting a book out of her enchanted pocket? A glance upwards told her that she couldn't - there were cameras. She should have brought a purse large enough - before extending it, of course - for a decent-sized book. Sighing, she looked at the newspaper stand at the till then clenched her teeth. Tabloids that made The Quibbler look like The Times. She closed her eyes and sighed again, more loudly.

"I would offer you my spot, but I don't think it would help you much."

What? Hermione looked to her right. A boy - a young man, she corrected herself; he was about her age - was smiling at her, leaning on his own shopping trolley.

He gestured at his queue. "I don't think it'll move faster than yours."

"Ah." She smiled and nodded, politely, as she looked him over. Beige woollen sweater, polo shirt beneath it, she could spot the collar, and black jeans. Trainers. Brown hair, fashionably cut. Handsome face. She wasn't staring. Not long enough for him to notice, at least. "As my mum would say: Your own queue is always the slowest."

"That's a rather egocentric view, don't you think?"

Hermione nodded. "I told her so, too." She had been ten at the time, too, and her parents hadn't let her forget it for years. She smiled at the memory. And at the man.

He smiled back. "Are you in a hurry? Late for a date?"

"No," she answered. Was he checking if she was single? "Just impatient. I should have brought a book."

He laughed. "I hope it won't take that long."

"Why? Are you late for a date?" She tilted her head, just a little. Not quite like Miss Merriweather.

He shook his head. "No."

Her queue advanced, and she pushed her trolley forward, then turned to face him again. She saw his eyes look up, at her face - they had been wandering over her turtleneck and jeans. Briefly, at least. "No date on a Friday?" she asked. She wasn't using Miss Merriweather's smile. But she wasn't just smiling politely.

He shook his head. "No." He paused for a moment. "Although I've heard that The Frighteners is a good movie."

Did he expect her to ask him out on a date? "What's it about?" she asked.

"Someone who can see ghosts and has to deal with a ghost who murders people," he explained as his queue advanced.

She frowned - ghosts couldn't affect the living. The most they could do would be scare people and hope they had an accident.

"It's a horror comedy," he added after he had stopped his trolley again. "A friend of mine said it was quite funny."

"Ah." She nodded. "I haven't been to the movies in a few months…" she trailed off and smiled at him.

"Would you like to go watch the movie with me this evening?"

She bit her lower lip - she had planned to have dinner with her parents. On the other hand, they had said that she should go out more often, so they couldn't really complain about such a change of plans. "Does that include dinner?"

"Of course!"

That would make it a date. She belatedly realised that she didn't know his name. Nor he hers. She rectified that: "Hermione Granger."

"Paul Simms," he said. "Hermione?"

She had expected that reaction. "From 'A Winter's Tale'. My parents love Shakespeare," she explained.

"Ah. I bet you have to explain that to almost everyone you meet."

She nodded. "Oh, yes." Her own queue advanced again.

"So… can I have your number?"

She pulled out her notebook and wrote down her address and phone number, then noticed that he was staring at her behind. No, her back pocket, which was just a little too small for her notebook. "See something you like?" she asked, channelling Miss Merriweather this time, to distract him.

It worked - he blushed.

And, after a moment, so did she.


London, Merton, January 31st, 1997

"Italian?" Hermione Granger asked when she saw the restaurant Paul had chosen for their date. She noted with a little relief that she wasn't underdressed for the venue - she had picked a nice set of slacks and a tighter cashmere turtleneck for the occasion.

"It offers pasta, pizza and meat dishes - something for almost everyone. A safer bet than Asian or French," Paul explained as he opened the door for her.

"Smart. Obviously, this isn't your first date." She nodded with a grin.

"Can I answer that without destroying whatever good impression of me made you accept my invitation?" He smiled, but she didn't think he was as confident as he tried to appear.

Instead of answering, she laughed, and his smile grew more relaxed. The head waiter asking for their reservation prevented further conversation until they had taken their seats.

"And what about you? Are you a dating expert?" he asked.

"I haven't been dating much." Not at all, unless attending balls in disguise counted. But she didn't need darting experience to know that even hinting at her training to lead men on to gather intel wouldn't go over well. "I was too busy studying and working."

He nodded. "What are you studying?"

"I'm working on my A Levels." It wasn't much of a lie - the N.E.W.T.s were the magical equivalent, after all.

He blinked, looking surprised. "And you're already working? I mean…" he trailed off, looking confused and a little embarrassed.

He didn't ask how old she was, so it was probably not that. But Hermione remembered that he had seen her house and her parents' car when he had come to pick her up. "My family had financial troubles a few years ago. I started working part-time at the time to help out, and by the time we had solved our problems, I had become used to earning my own money."

"Ah." As he nodded in apparent understanding, the waiter arrived with the menu, and they ordered their drinks. They didn't take long to order - Paul was obviously familiar with the menu and picked the pizza of the week, and Hermione quickly decided on a salad and lasagna al forno.

"What kind of work do you do?" he asked after the waiter had brought their drinks and taken their order.

"I'm the secretary of an independently wealthy gentleman who prefers to focus on his French mistress and his hobbies rather than on his investments," Hermione said. His obvious surprise made her smile. "It sounds more important than it is - I mainly handle his correspondence and schedule. And remind him of his appointments when needed." Which was all too often the case - the dog probably enjoyed riling her up like that. She watched him, but he didn't seem to think there was more to her work. Unless he was far better at hiding his thoughts than he had appeared so far.

"I am working part-time as a clerk at a bank myself, and I'm studying economics at South Thames College," Paul said. "I just started, though."

"Both working and studying?"

"Yes. Is it easy to balance school and your work? I wouldn't have managed during school myself. Not at my current job."

"Oh, I'm not going to school any more; I have a private tutor helping me to prepare for my A Levels." That probably made him think that her parents were spending more on her tutor than she was earning as a secretary.

"Ah."

"It's not ideal, but I like being able to schedule my own hours - mostly. I was in a boarding school for a while but that… didn't work out." Hermione wasn't lying. Not really.

He nodded. "I never went to a boarding school. Pretty much stayed in Merton all my life - even my own flat is just a ten-minute walk from my parents' home."

"My parents just returned from a six-month vacation in Australia," Hermione said. "I'm glad they made it home safely."

"Ah, yes. Australia. Deadliest continent in the world. Most of its flora and fauna want to kill you, and the rest are venomous."

She almost corrected him - he probably meant 'poisonous' as he'd included plants - but held her tongue. "They weren't reckless or stupid."

"My parents would say that that's a teenager's job."

She snorted. "My parents say I went straight from toddler to twenty going on thirty." She blushed a little, remembering. "I had a tendency to be a know-it-all." She wasn't, not any more. Or not as much, at least. Despite the dog's claims.

He laughed. "Is that the result or the source of your love of books?" At her glance, he elaborated: "You mentioned you wanted to bring a book to the supermarket and your home had a lot of bookshelves."

"I can't really say, if I'm honest - as far back as I can remember, I've always loved books." She was about to go into her favourites but refrained. "Do you like to read?"

"Well, despite my teachers and professors' best attempts to make me hate reading, I like historical novels - and history books."

She beamed at him. They spent the rest of the meals talking about historical novels, and whether or not they should be as historically accurate as possible.


"So, what did you think of the movie?" Paul asked three hours later, as they were leaving the theatre.

Hermione Granger frowned. "I didn't like how they portrayed the ghosts."

"I thought the special effects were quite good."

"Not that," she corrected him. "I didn't like that they had the ghosts being able to affect physical things and people." That was completely wrong - ghosts couldn't do that.

"Well, the movie wouldn't have worked if they couldn't affect people. Kind of hard to murder someone if you can't touch them or do anything else," Paul replied.

"Not necessarily. You could surprise and shock someone by suddenly appearing next to them and yelling. Timed correctly that could make them have an accident. Or a heart attack," Hermione said. "And even if you didn't manage that, you could cause them to suffer sleep deprivation and ultimately drive them to suicide by not letting them rest at all."

"You have given this some thought, I see." He grinned. "If I read about an unexplained murder, I'll know who to suspect."

"That just means that you'll be my first victim!" She snorted, then sniffed. "After all, you picked a horror movie to scare me into your arms, didn't you?"

He laughed at that, then slipped his arm around her shoulders - as he had during the movie. "Well, you didn't object to my pick, did you?"

"No, I didn't." She leaned into him as they walked back towards her home - and his; they were almost neighbours, as she had found out. Although she had expected that since they had met in the local supermarket.

Ten minutes later, they were standing in front of the door to her home.

"Well, I had fun," he said. "I'd like to do that again. Go on a date, I mean."

She nodded. "I had fun as well." She didn't know many people with whom she could discuss muggle books. Not in that much depth, at least.

"So… next Friday?"

She was tempted to say 'How about tomorrow?', but that would have been too eager. So she nodded, then wet her lips and kept looking at him - he was slightly taller than her.

And when he leaned forward to kiss her, she didn't object to that either.


Hogwarts, February 2nd, 1997

Standing in the hallway outside the Gryffindor common room, Harry Potter tapped his glasses, activating their enchantment, then checked the corridors. He didn't spot anyone hiding nearby - no ambushes. He hadn't expected any, but you could never be sure. Not even after Voldemort's defeat. Two witches strolled past - Ravenclaws - and he almost checked them out. He controlled himself in time, though. While Moody might disagree, Harry had come to doubt that seeing through robes made him any safer; almost everyone carried a wand, and potions were not uncommon either. You couldn't really tell an attacker from a harmless passer-by. And he hadn't ever found anyone dangerous that way either.

It felt wrong, too. A little.

The door opened behind him, and he stepped to the side and turned, keeping his wand out. Romilda stood there, smiling at him. "Hi!"

"Ready to go flying?" he asked, patting his enchanted pocket, where his Firebolt rested.

She nodded and lifted her - not shrunken - broom. A Cleansweep Five. "Yes."

"Let's go then." He offered her his left arm, and she took it.

He hadn't turned the enchantment off - he was used to its effect by now, at least enough to be able to walk without blinding himself to his environment. Halfway to the gate, in the courtyard, he spotted a group of students. Slytherins. Half a dozen of them, with Draco Malfoy in their midst.

He frowned. He could change their route. The side door would be a bit of a detour, but he could explain it to Romilda as being more private. That, of course, would make them take even longer.

He scoffed. He had fought and defeated Voldemort; he wouldn't turn tail at the sight of a bunch of idiots like Malfoy and his cronies.

He heard the git before he saw him: "...and Professor Slughorn has personally invited me to the first party of the Slug Club at Hogwarts in decades!"

Romilda giggled at hearing that.

"We're invited as well," Harry reminded her in a whisper.

"It's still a silly name," she retorted.

She giggled again as they rounded the corner.

"Professor Slughorn realises, of course, how important my father is, after the Battle of the Ministry, where he..."

As soon as the Slytherins - Parkinson, Nott, Greengrass, Davis and Zabini - spotted Harry and his girlfriend, they stiffened. Malfoy even stopped in mid-sentence. "Potter," he said with a forced smile.

"Malfoy." Harry nodded at him. "Telling tales about the battle against the Dark Lord? I don't remember you being there."

"My father was there!" Malfoy shot back.

"I don't see him here," Harry retorted. "I don't see Crabbe or Goyle either, but we all know why they're missing, don't we?"

Malfoy hissed through clenched teeth and the rest of the Slytherins flinched. Parkinson glared at Harry.

"What?" Harry snorted. "Your father betrayed Voldemort. Did you honestly think they wouldn't try to take revenge?"

"That's none of your business," Malfoy replied with his typical sneer.

"Since their fathers tried to kill my friends and me, I think it's my business." He scoffed. "Hell, I might have been the one to kill Crabbe's father. I certainly couldn't tell who I was fighting since they were all masked."

That made them flinch even more, and he felt Romilda's grip tighten on his arm. He waited a moment, but no one said anything in response. Perfect.

Smiling toothily, he nodded at the Slytherins again and walked away with Romilda.


An hour later, they set down again after a long but rather slow, by Harry Potter's standards, aerial chase. He was the first to land, and he watched Romilda come in.

"Whew!" She said, handing over the broom shouldering her broom. "That was fun. But it was freezing."

He frowned. "Did the Warming Charms fail?" She should have said so - he could have cast one that lasted.

"Mh." She hugged him. "I need someone to warm me up."

"Ah!" He returned her hug and rubbed her back.

A few kisses later, they were walking back to the school - to the side door, this time. "Did you have fun?"

"Of course!"

"We can do something other than flying if you want to."

"No, no, it's fine. I like flying!"

"Are you sure?"

"Why would I lie?"

Why, indeed. But if she loved flying, why didn't she have better gear? The Cleansweep Five was a decent broom, but it was getting old. There were better brooms to be had - not too expensive either; it wasn't as if her family was poor.

"As long as I can spend time with you I'm happy." She was beaming at him, and they stopped outside the door for a quick - or not so quick - snog.

"I'm happy to hear that." And he was. "But if you ever want to, well - explore the Forbidden Forest, for example, we can do that too."

"We can do that if you want to."

She was smiling at him, but he had to force himself to smile back. A little, at least.


London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 7th, 1997

"Here are your notes and your itinerary for the Wizengamot next week!" Hermione Granger announced, dropping a stack of parchment on Sirius's desk. "If you have any questions, I'll be back tomorrow."

Her employer eyed the parchment with the same expression a dog would have when confronted with a tiger. No wonder he had been happy about her decision not to return to Hogwarts, which would have meant she couldn't work for him any more. Then he perked up. "Not staying for dinner? Hot date tonight?"

The dog's wide, mocking smile just begged for a cat to rake his nose with her claws. But not today. Instead of teaching him a lesson, she smiled. "Yes."

"What?"

He was gaping with such a flabbergasted expression that she glared at him. "I have a date this evening. Did you really think I wouldn't be able to get a date if I wanted to?"

"No, no!"

Which, of course, meant 'yes'. She scoffed and shook her head.

"Who is the lucky boy?" He had recovered and was leaning forward in his seat.

"A neighbour. I met him in the supermarket."

"A muggle?" He was looking as if he were surprised again.

"Is there something wrong with muggles?" She narrowed her eyes at the dog.

"No. Just… I didn't expect that." He shook his head.

"Really?" She didn't bother to hide her doubt. "Did you expect me to flirt with the Ministry staff when we visit the Wizengamot? Or go and ask out students in Hogsmeade?" She snorted at the idea.

"When you put it like that…" He pouted. "But isn't it awkward dating someone who can't know about the real you?"

"No more awkward than not telling Harry about what I did during the war." And what she was planning to do, once she had completed her training.

"Ah, right."

She rolled her eyes. He had been the one who told her to keep that a secret. Even though his reasons made sense - if one believed letting Harry become an Auror was as important as Sirius thought it was. "I'm heading home to get ready for my date now."

Hermione felt surprisingly pleased to say that.


London, Merton, February 7th, 1997

"What did you think of the movie?" Hermione Granger asked as she and Paul were leaving the theatre.

"Hm." Paul looked pensive. "It was nice, but a little too 'family friendly', you know what I mean?" It must have been a rhetorical question since he continued before she could answer: "Not much action, and a lot of feel-good clichés. The idealistic little girl against the evil investors, cute animals and the good people cheering the kid in a happy ending." He shook his head. "It didn't even have a real villain. No real danger at all." He grinned at her. "All this for saving food with wings?"

"It's not about geese," Hermione retorted. "It's about a young girl learning to fight for what she believes in. She overcomes all obstacles to protect those weaker than herself." 'Fly Away Home' was a very uplifting movie.

Paul shrugged. "Not enough fighting for my taste. Not enough guns." He grinned. "Family-friendly. I like a bit more blood and gore with my action."

She was tempted to tell him that he wouldn't be saying that if he had been in a real fight, but held her tongue. "The flying scenes were beautiful." Flying an ultralight must be almost like flying on a broom, she thought - but with more comfortable seating arrangements and less agility.

He grinned again. "I prefer planes with guns on them in my movies."

She snorted. "I prefer to fly instead of watching actors wave props around and playing soldiers." Harry and Ron would agree with her, she knew.

He blinked. "Don't tell me that you can fly!"

She almost winced, then forced herself to grin. "Well, not without a plane. Or a magic broom."

That made him laugh. She smiled. "I would like to be able to, though."

"Don't we all?" He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him. "But we'll have to make do with the next best thing."

"Which would be?"

"Dancing as if nobody's watching. I know a great club."

"Lead the way." It was certainly better than dissecting a movie.

An hour later, she found that kissing on the dance floor was better than dissecting a movie as well. Much better.

And snogging in dark corner of the club was even better.


Hogwarts, February 21st, 1997

Harry Potter ducked and Sirius's stunner passed overhead, not even hitting his Shield Charm. He jumped forward, rolled over his shoulder, barely noticing another Stunner missing him, and cast a Piercing Curse followed by a Stunner at near point-blank range. His godfather's shield shattered, and he went down a moment later.

A flick of his wand revived Sirius and Harry offered a hand to the groaning wizard to help him up. "That was a good session."

Sirius frowned at him. "If I weren't still suffering from the wounds I took at the Ministry, I'd have completely trounced you."

"Pomfrey released you in perfect health over a month ago!" Harry retorted. He had won a few rounds fair and square!

"I'm talking about the wounds taken by attending the Wizengamot, and listening to idiots who couldn't outwit a mountain troll," Sirius said. "I'm suffering."

Harry remembered his own encounter with a mountain troll as he shook his head. "Excuses, excuses."

Sirius scoffed. "I'll show you excuses next week." He sat down on the bench near the door of the Defence classroom and summoned a bottle of Butterbeer. "So, how are you doing when you're not abusing a wounded man? Or dumping snakes on your godfather? Everything's alright? Any trouble with Tonks's handbooks?"

Harry joined him and grabbed a bottle for himself. "Other than their size, they're fine." Studying the manuals would take more time than Ron and Harry had expected, but they had the time to spare, now that Voldemort was gone. "Slughorn's a good teacher, but he's a little too pushy about his club. McGonagall hasn't found a replacement Transfiguration teacher yet, so she's teaching as well as acting as Headmistress. But that's not a really big change."

Sirius nodded. "Yeah. She mostly let the prefects run things anyway."

Harry shrugged. Dumbledore had left a lot of the school's daily business to her, or so Harry had heard. "Malfoy's acting as if he fought Voldemort himself, but that was to be expected."

"His father's the same." Sirius scoffed. "Bigoted bastard."

Harry didn't disagree with the sentiment. Hermione would have corrected Sirius that neither Malfoy was technically a bastard. He took a sip from his own bottle. "I've been thinking."

"Hm?"

"About Romilda." Harry took another sip.

"Oh?" Sirius put his own bottle down.

"Things should be great. She's always happy to see me, she likes flying with me, she doesn't nag me, she doesn't try to get me to drop my friends, and we snog a lot…" Harry sighed.

"That does sound great," Sirius said.

"Yes. But…" Harry shrugged. "I just feel like… like something's missing, you know?" Before Sirius could say something lewd, he went on: "She goes along with everything I say. And when I ask her if she wants to do something with me, we end up doing something I like." He stood and started to pace. "When I mentioned exploring the Forbidden Forest as an example, she said OK." He gestured. "I brought it up because Luna and Ron are doing that - Luna loves those excursions. But they are also playing chess, which Ron loves."

Sirius rubbed his goatee. "So you don't like being in charge all the time?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't like it. It feels as if she's just going along with whatever I want. That makes the whole thing feel… wrong." He shrugged. "As if it doesn't matter at all what I want; she'll just nod and do it."

"As long as she can do you?"

He rolled his eyes at Sirius. "I just…" He sighed. "It sounds stupid, but it feels as if I'm doing all the work. Even if all I have to do is say something and she goes along with it. I just want more." Something more. Something more like Luna and Ron had. Or what he had had with Ginny. Before the rows, at least.

"Ah." His godfather nodded. "You're not satisfied." Harry rolled his eyes - he had just said that. "Well, if you're not happy in a relationship, there are only two possible solutions: You break up with her, or you change her. But changing someone is hard. Very hard. Trust me."

Harry snorted. "And what if I break up with Romilda? Get another girlfriend and hope she's a better fit?"

"Yes." Sirius grinned. "You're still young. You'll find the right witch yet! You'll also discover that as you grow older, you change. And the witches change as well."

That would have sounded far more convincing if Sirius wasn't about to marry a witch about fifteen years younger than he was, Harry thought. He changed the subject. "So how is it going in the Wizengamot?"

Sirius scowled. "Not too well."

"Can't outwit wizards who are dumber than a troll?" Harry asked with a grin.

His godfather scoffed. "Malfoy's Fudge's best friend and doing all he can to undermine Arthur and Amelia in the Ministry. And he's trying to control the Wizengamot. We might need you to make an appearance or two, to counter him. Or at least give an interview."

"Alright." Harry nodded. Compared to fighting Voldemort, playing the hero or giving an interview was easy. "Unless it's Skeeter. I'm not talking to her."

Sirius laughed. "No one wants you to talk to her." He stood. "Well, it's about time to return home."

"Is Jeanne waiting for you?" Harry grinned. "Or did you try dumping your work on Hermione again?"

"I wish!" Sirius said. "Since she's got herself a boyfriend, she's not around as much as before."

Harry blinked. "Hermione has a boyfriend?" Hermione?

"Yes. Some muggle boy she met at the 'supermarket'."

Harry narrowed his eyes. If that boy was taking advantage of his best friend...


Hogwarts, March 9th, 1997

"So, where do you want to go first?" Harry Potter asked when he climbed out of the carriages in Hogsmeade with Romilda.

"I don't have anything specific in mind," Romilda answered. Then she beamed at him. "Where do you want to go first?"

Harry almost sighed, then smiled and shrugged. "I don't have any plans other than to spend time with you. So, you'll have to decide where we go!" Let's see her weasel out of that!

"Hm." For a moment, she looked lost. Then she smiled again. "Let's go to Spintwitches!"

That was the local Quidditch shop - well, they also sold other sporting goods, but who cared about anything other than Quidditch? - and they had been there before. Almost every Hogsmeade weekend, in fact. But at least Romilda had picked something by herself. So Harry nodded. "Alright."

It didn't take them long to make their way to the shop. There was no new broom on display - not that Harry would have expected one; the new models were usually revealed before the summer training camps started - but they had the new Quidditch Weekly. Harry smiled and went to grab one. Then he realised that Romilda had followed him.

"Oh, that's Gwenog Jones!" she said, pointing at the cover. "She's great."

"Yes. There's a poster of her on sale, too," Harry said. He nodded at the poster, showing Jones hitting two Bludgers with one swing in the game against Puddlemere last autumn. That had decided the match.

"Are you gonna buy it?" Romilda asked.

"Do you want it?" He asked back.

She shook her head. "No, no, I'm good."

It wasn't expensive. It was just a poster. But if she didn't want it, or didn't want to say it… He nodded. "Alright. I'll be right back." He went to the counter, then glanced over his shoulder at her while the saleswitch operated the till.

Romilda was looking at him and smiling.

He forced himself to smile back at her.


London, Merton, March 24th, 1997

Harry Potter didn't like Paul Simms. Not at all. He was smiling far too much. And the way he always had his arm around Hermione, as if she weren't allowed to leave him…

"Another boring movie," the man - the boy; he wasn't that much older - said, theatrically sighing as he pointed at the poster above the entrance.

"Have you already seen it?" Ron asked. "I thought this was a new movie."

"He hasn't," Hermione said, and Harry saw her elbow Paul in the side. She was dressed up, he'd noticed - she even wore a little makeup. It looked very nice on her. "But Paul prefers action movies, and this is a movie about a sports agent who wants to change his work."

"A sports agent?" Ron looked lost. Maybe they shouldn't have invited him to come along - but then it would have just been Harry with Hermione and her boyfriend. Which would have looked very bad. And Romilda didn't know enough about muggles to fool Paul.

"A man who works for professional athletes, negotiating their contracts for them with the team owners," Hermione explained.

"Ah." Ron nodded. "I didn't know that that was a profession."

"You didn't?" Paul looked surprised.

Harry shrugged. "Ron's not interested in sports. He doesn't even watch football."

"Really? You don't look the type." Paul had that arrogant expression on his face again, Harry thought.

"The type?" Ron asked.

"You know, all intellectual, no sweaty sports." Paul grinned. "Although Hermione isn't a big fan of sports either."

Harry almost smirked. Paul obviously had no clue about Hermione's love for Quidditch.

"I prefer to do sports rather than watch others do them," Hermione said. "Which is why Paul won't jog with me: He's the opposite."

"Indeed - my weak male ego can't stand being bested by a girl." Paul laughed and pulled Hermione close to press a kiss on her head. "But I love watching her work out."

Paul didn't have to leer like that, Harry thought. And his jokes weren't really funny. He didn't like seeing Hermione blush like that either.

"And I'll love watching this movie," Hermione stated firmly. "All the critics say it's great."

"As long as we're going to watch Star Wars next week," Paul retorted.

Ron opened his mouth - presumably to ask about Star Wars - but Harry distracted him with an elbow to the ribs before he could start. "Yes. We'll go watch that one as well."

"With your girlfriends?" Paul sounded far too sceptical.

"Yes. Luna and Romilda will love it," Harry said.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked.

"Yes." Harry nodded. They could use privacy spells in the theatre, to keep Luna from disturbing the audience.

"Romilda?" Paul shook his head. "Who names their daughter Romilda? Or Luna?"

Harry wanted to hex the guy. And Ron looked as if he shared the feeling.


"You've got interesting friends."

Hermione Granger glanced over her shoulder at Harry and Ron. They were still at the bus stop, looking at Paul and herself, but too far away to overhear Paul. Unless they were using spells. Which they weren't. She waved, and they waved back.

"They're the best friends you could wish for," she said as they turned the corner. Who else would risk their lives for her?

"They seemed to be a little jealous."

"Jealous?" She frowned. "Maybe they're afraid that you'll act like Harry's first girlfriend. She was so insecure and possessive, she wanted him to stop spending time with Ron and me."

"Well, I'm not insecure or possessive, am I?" He pulled her closer to him as he said so. "Just because I want to hold you and never let go again."

She snorted. "As long as you don't try to convince me not to visit them at their boarding school you'll be fine."

"I know better than to try to convince you to do anything you don't want to," he said.

She blushed slightly - she knew he wasn't just talking about visiting her friends. But while she wasn't averse to what he meant, they had been dating for less than two months. Although it wasn't as if there were a minimum time you had to wait before you had sex. And if there were, two months would be fine. Or almost two months. And Mum had ensured that she knew how to use contraceptives. So she was prepared. If she felt ready. Which she usually did, when they were snogging. Still…

"Want to come to my flat for tea?"

"Sure," she answered. It wouldn't be the first time they'd be snogging on his couch. Or done more. But they hadn't gone all the way. Yet.

She leaned into him as they walked towards his home.


"So, what did you think?"

What Hermione Granger thought was that that wasn't a question you should ask after you've had sex with someone for the first time. She took a deep breath and glanced at Paul, lying next to her in his bed. He looked nervous. Which meant that an honest answer - 'Not bad, but I expected more' or 'I hope it gets better with practice' - was out of the question. She liked him. She didn't want to lose him. He was a good kisser. She liked talking with him. And discussing - debating - the merits of various books and movies. Being honest wasn't worth hurting his ego - while he was joking about it, he hadn't taken well to her running him into the ground the first and only time they went jogging.

So she sat up, smiled at him and ran her fingers over his chest.

"I think that we'll be late for work and uni tomorrow."


Hogwarts, April 11th, 1997

"There you are!"

Harry Potter winced, then forced himself to smile before turning round. Romilda was standing in the door. "Hi."

She stepped inside and closed the door. "Why did you want to meet me in the Defence classroom?" she asked as she walked towards him.

"It's private. Remus isn't around."

"Oh!" She grinned, then looked at the desks and the open duelling area. "Doesn't look too comfortable, though."

Harry swished his wand and conjured two seats facing each other. "Let's sit down."

Romilda looked puzzled but took her seat. "A couch would be better, I think."

"I don't think so," Harry said, then clenched his teeth as she started to frown. He pushed on. "I'm sorry." She opened her mouth but didn't say anything as he continued. "I don't think that it's working between us." He shook his head, trying to both keep looking at her and ignoring the way her expression shifted from surprised to shocked. "It's just…" He took a deep breath. He had prepared a little speech, but he couldn't recall most of it. "I mean, I like you. Very much. But I don't think we're good for each other. I don't think we'll be happy if we stay together."

"Why not?" There were tears in her eyes now.

Harry wanted to curse Moody's lesson about watching an enemy's eyes. "I can't explain it. Not well. It's just…" He sighed. "Something's missing." Honesty was best, or so he had heard, but telling her that he was sick of how she went along with everything he said? That would make her blame herself, and she didn't deserve that.

"What?" She was crying now.

He felt as if he had cursed a child. Or a kitten. "I don't know what exactly. But I know that I'm not happy as things are. It's not your fault. Maybe I've changed, after Voldemort, and it took me time to notice?" he lied. "But it's best we break up before we start hating each other."

Romilda shook her head, staring at him. Her lips trembled as tears ran down her cheek. Then she stood and ran out of the room, sobbing.

Harry closed his eyes, leaned back and cursed under his breath.

That had been as bad as he had feared. Or worse. But what else could he have done? He couldn't string her along any longer and act as if everything was alright.

Maybe he should have talked to Ron or Hermione about this.