Chapter 18 - Epiphany

Hermione Granger was struggling to recognise all of the emotions that she was experiencing as she heard the footsteps of her best friend slowly fade into nothing. She wanted to go after him, but she knew that he'd want to be on his own for a while. She'd speak to him later once her own feelings had calmed down but suspected this may take some time as she was experiencing so much all at the same time.

First there was the disbelief at the fact that Harry Potter of all people had been forced to live in a cupboard under a set of stairs. She was still struggling to get her head around that fact. That Harry Potter, a true hero who had sacrificed so much for the good of others, should be treated like some sort of caged animal was beyond her comprehension.

Then there was the guilt. She couldn't help it. Harry was her best friend and yet somehow, she did not know the entire truth about his upbringing. She'd known that the Dursleys were not particularly nice people, and there had always been a tacit understanding between herself, Ron and Harry that life at Privet Drive was not pleasant, but she'd never dug deeper. Never really asked her friend for the details. While she was aware that Harry would probably not have been forthcoming about these details, she knew in her heart that this was irrelevant; she should have forced the issue, should have made him open up about what went on in that house. This was why she felt guilty.

I should have asked! I should have known!

There was also a deep sadness. Sadness that the person she loved more than anyone else in the world had endured such a childhood. And she did love him more than anyone. She knew that now. Had learned this simple fact and had come to terms with the implications. When she'd spent these past few weeks away from him following her split up with Ron, she'd spent a lot of time pondering her own actions and feelings and had come to realise the simple truth that she belonged wherever Harry chose to be. That she would play whatever part in his life that he asked her to. This epiphany did not trouble her in the slightest; in fact, she felt a sense of peace when she pondered on this truth. This was why she was so profoundly saddened at learning about some of the horrors of Harry's upbringing.

She had been to the house on Privet Drive. Had seen the veneer of respectability that the Dursleys liked to portray. She now recognised this for the façade that it was and it broke her heart that Harry Potter, her best friend, had grown up alone and unloved. She would have wept were it not for the final emotion she was experiencing.

Anger.

She closed her eyes and let it flow within her, feeling it course through her veins. Suddenly the disbelief, the guilt and the sadness were simply not enough and she let loose the anger. She turned to face the Headmistress, throwing the ancient book of records onto the desk in front of her.

'Did you know about this?' she asked without preamble.

Minerva McGonagall looked deeply uncomfortable for a moment, but then a look of resignation appeared on her face. 'Not entirely,' she replied softly.

'Not entirely? So, you did know? You knew he was being kept in a cupboard and yet you did nothing? You were the one who wrote his Hogwarts letter, weren't you? You must have known! How could you?'

She stood up and made to leave the office but Minerva stopped her in her tracks.

'Miss Granger! Hermione! Please! Let me speak. Let me explain,' she cried as he leapt to her feet.

Hermione stopped and slowly turned to face the woman she regarded as a mentor and friend. She saw the look of pain, of sorrow and of guilt on the countenance of the Headmistress and she decided to give her favourite professor the benefit of the doubt. She slowly returned to her seat and sat down, a questioning look on her face. Minerva nodded her gratitude and retook her own seat. They sat in silence for a few moments.

'I was there the night Professor Dumbledore left Harry at Privet Drive,' she began softly. 'In truth, I was there all day. Albus had informed me of his intention to place Harry with his relatives so I decided to go and watch them to see what sort of people they were.' Her eyes hardened before she continued.

'I transformed into my Animagus form and spied on them for the entire day. When Albus finally arrived at Privet Drive, I told him that the Dursleys were the worst sort of people imaginable. I strongly advised against leaving Harry with them.' She paused for a moment. 'I told Albus that any number of wizarding families would have been proud to take him in. I would have done so myself if required and I would have been glad to do so.'

'So why didn't you?' asked Hermione.

'Because Albus assured me that it would be for the best that Harry stay with his relatives. He convinced me that it would be better for Harry to grow up away from the attention and the fame that was sure to come his way and I allowed myself to believe him.'

'And that was it? Albus Dumbledore said it was OK and that was all it took for you to abandon Harry to those monsters?'

Minerva's face hardened. 'No; that wasn't "it," Hermione. I frequently asked Albus about Harry's welfare over the years and he assured me that Harry was well and that he was being constantly watched. I had no idea of the reality of his situation. I certainly didn't know he was being locked in a cupboard! Albus said he was fine.'

'And you believed him?' Hermione's incredulity was obvious.

'Of course, I believed him.' She raised her hand, forestalling Hermione from replying. 'Can I ask you something, Hermione. Can I ask you what you would do if, in a similar situation, Mr Potter gave you his word that everything was fine? Would you believe him?'

'Yes, I'd believe him! Of course I would! But Harry would never lie to me like that!' Hermione exclaimed.

'That's what I once thought about Albus, dear,' Minerva replied sadly. 'I would not have believed him capable of lying to me, yet he did so. He did so for years. In order for a betrayal to take place, there must first be a trust to breach. I trusted the Headmaster in many things and I was right to do so. But I was wrong about this and it is to my eternal shame that I allowed myself to accept the comforting lies rather than go in search of the hard truth. I think I allowed myself to believe Albus because I feared the alternative. In my folly, I allowed Albus to take full responsibility for Harry's wellbeing. I allowed him to leave Harry in an environment where he was neither loved nor wanted and where he was treated terribly. For my inaction; my naivety, I am deserving of your anger, Hermione. Your's and Harry's.'

This revelation left Hermione feeling cold. As much as she wanted to be angry at Minerva, she knew that she was equally guilty of not wanting to learn the hard truth about Harry's upbringing. She'd always been aware that it was not pleasant, but by never pressing for the details, she had allowed herself to be comforted by not knowing the true facts.

That ends now, she told herself. There will be no secrets between us!

'And once he was at Hogwarts? Did you still believe the Headmaster?' she finally asked.

'I did. Albus explained to me about Lily's protection and assured me that – while not ideal – Harry was healthy and well. I allowed myself to be deceived. I did what was easy rather than what was right. I will never forgive myself for doing so,' Minerva added.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She allowed the emotions she was experiencing to flow through her and she acknowledged each one as she let them slide from her shoulders, almost as if she were shedding a load. Finally, she opened her eyes and saw Minerva regarding her with a curious expression on her face.

'It's not your fault, Minerva. Nor is it mine. The blame lies with the people who did this to Harry. The blame lies with the Dursleys and with Dumbledore. If you are to hold yourself responsible then I must do so too as I never asked him about it, even though I had my suspicions. There's plenty of blame to go around, but our share is not the greatest.'

'I still feel responsible,' replied Minerva. 'And I suspect that I always will. You, however, should not castigate yourself. For all that you have been forced to grow up very quickly, you were still a child, Hermione. It was the adults in Harry's life who failed him. His friends were the bright spots. And speaking of friends, I believe Harry may have need of a friend right about now. I'm sure you will have no trouble finding him?' she added with a sad smile.

Hermione took that as her cue and rose to leave. But before she departed, she leaned across the desk and embraced her friend and teacher.

'Don't be slow to forgive yourself, Minerva. I'm sure Harry doesn't hold either of us remotely responsible.'

With these final words of comfort, she turned and belatedly followed her friend down the winding stairs.

oOoOoOoOo

Ron Weasley lay on his bed in his room at the Burrow feeling sorry for himself. The events of recent weeks had deeply affected him and he was struggling to come to terms with everything that had occurred.

He still didn't fully understand what had gone wrong. He had thought he had finally achieved what he wanted when Hermione had kissed him at the climax of the battle of Hogwarts. He'd always had his doubts; had always felt that she preferred Harry and it was not until Harry and Ginny had got together last year that he had finally believed he'd had a chance. Not even abandoning Harry and Hermione on the Horcrux hunt had seemed to make a difference. While Hermione had been enraged, her reaction to him during the battle had finally put his mind at ease. He had finally won; he had got the girl.

And for several weeks they had both seemed to settle into their new relationship despite Hermione's curse. They'd both been very tentative with each other, their physical relationship not going beyond a few shared kisses. He'd always had the impression that if he tried to take any liberties with Hermione then he'd live to regret it. Besides; he had too much respect for her to try and rush things in that regard. They had both though it best to take their time in adjusting to their new status.

He'd tried and tried to do the right thing; to stick by Hermione the way she had always stuck by him and Harry. He'd bitten his tongue and done his best not to argue with her; tried his damndest to take an interest in the stuff she liked despite finding it dull. Given his all to support her as she dealt with her lycanthropy. Tried his best to be the man that he knew she wanted him to be.

And it still hadn't been enough.

He recalled her words when she had ended things with him.

"Couples are supposed to make each other happy, aren't they? Do you honestly think we make each other happy?"

And he remembered his own, feeble response.

"We did, once."

Once, he thought to himself. And that was before we were a couple.

He suddenly started in surprise at a sharp rap on his bedroom door.

'Ron? Are you in there, Ron? Can I come in?'

He recognised the voice; it was Bill and as he glanced at his watch, he wondered what his eldest brother was doing visiting the Burrow at this time.

He should be at work.

'Come in, Bill,' he replied, sitting up as he did so. 'The door's open,' he added.

Bill Weasley entered the room, a small smile on his face that quickly changed to a grimace as he crossed the threshold.

'Bloody, hell, Ron,' he said, removing his wand from his pocket as he did do. 'You never heard of soap? This place smells awful,' he added as he cast a charm that freshened the air in the room and quickly followed it up with a second spell that opened the window.

Ron scowled. 'If you're just hear to give me abuse, you can turn around and walk straight back out again,' he snapped.

Bill sighed, debating whether or not to argue with his youngest brother. Finally, he came to a decision and sat down on the spare bed in the room. He took a moment before speaking.

'Mum told me about you and Hermione,' he began, quietly. 'She asked me to have a word with you. I'm sorry it didn't work out.'

Ron glanced up, looking for any sign of mockery in Bill's expression, but found only sympathy and sincerity in his piercing blue eyes. The flash of anger he'd originally felt was soothed by the obvious concern Bill had for him.

'What happened?' Bill asked.

Ron looked down at his hands and shrugged. 'I dunno, really. She just said that we don't make each other happy,' he mumbled.

'She has a point,' replied Bill after a moment's pause, and Ron felt the anger flare again.

'Not you too! Everyone is taking her side in this!' he exclaimed.

Bill's face hardened. 'Don't be stupid, Ron! Of course, we're not taking her side!' His voice softened. 'I simply meant that the two of you argue a lot. It's hard to make each other happy when you fight and insult each other all the time.' He could see that his words were not really getting through, so he tried a different tack.

'Can I speak to you frankly, Ron?' he asked.

Ron looked up, startled by the question. 'I guess so.'

'Why is it you want Hermione as your girlfriend?'

Ron felt as if he had been punched in the stomach, such was his shock at the question. He felt ambushed, thrown completely off balance.

'Isn't it obvious?' he stammered.

'In all honesty? No; it isn't.' He paused for a moment before continuing. 'I know you and Hermione are close. I know you have been through a lot together. But the reality is, Ron, that when things calm down; when life is normal and there isn't a crazy bastard on the loose trying to kill you and your friends at every turn, then you actually need a solid foundation for a relationship.'

'We have a solid foundation! We're best friends!'

Bill looked at him sadly. 'Are you, really? Can you honestly say that, Ron? Can you truthfully say that you have loads in common? That you bring out the best in each other? That you love her interest in knowledge and learning and she loves you for your passion for quidditch? That you can talk to her about anything and be interested in what she thinks; what she feels? That you accept her for what she is and never try to change her, and that she does the same for you? Never tries to change you? Because that's the reality. That's the key to any relationship; accepting each other as you both are and loving each other for it.' Bill paused for a moment. 'I don't doubt that you have strong feelings for her, Ron, and I don't doubt she has strong feelings for you too.' He took a deep breath before he dropped his final bombshell. 'But you need to ask yourself what it is you have in common with her, other than Harry, that is,' he added pointedly.

This last comment was too close to the bone for comfort for Ron. He wanted to respond, to deny the truth in Bill's words but he found that he couldn't. The fact was that he knew he and Hermione had very little in common. He was well aware that if they were not both friends with Harry, then there was very little chance they'd be friends with each other. But despite this, he'd always believed that love would be enough; that their constant bickering would end and that they'd be happy together and have a relationship of mutual love and respect and understanding.

The sort of relationship Hermione has with Harry.

When he thought about Harry he was forced to acknowledge that he was still ashamed at his own behaviour the last time he had spoken to him. His friend had not deserved the accusations that he'd thrown at him and he wondered if Harry still wanted to see him; still wanted him as his friend. If he was honest with himself, the main reason he was feeling so miserable was because he had dug himself into a hole and was too proud to ask for help getting out.

To put it simply, he missed his friends.

Bill sensed that his words seemed to be getting through to his youngest brother and trusted him to do the right thing. He stood to leave, but before he departed, he had one final message to impart.

'The real reason I visited today is because McGonagall asked me to.' He waited until Ron looked up sharply, his surprise at the revelation obvious. 'Harry and Hermione are investigating a lead tomorrow. McGonagall seems to think they might need someone who knows a thing or two about curses and traps, so she got in touch and asked me to go with them.' He looked Ron straight in the eye. 'She also asked if I could speak to you because she thinks that things work better when the three of you are together. I'm inclined to agree, so let me know if you want to come with us,' he added.

Bill stepped forward and placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, giving it a squeeze of reassurance before turning and quietly leaving the room.

Ron heard his footsteps disappear down the stairs and sighed deeply. He had a lot to think about. Deep down, he suspected that the main reason he and Hermione would never work was because she had feelings for Harry and he returned those feelings, despite his "sister" comment in the Forest of Dean. It occurred to him that the type of relationship that Bill had just described was exactly what Harry and Hermione had with each other. He was also aware that it was probably only a matter of time before they realised this and did something about it.

That thought disturbed him greatly. It was bad enough that Hermione had dumped him; things would be unbearable if his two best friends became romantically involved. He knew that the decision he made about going with them tomorrow was more significant than it appeared; that his future relationship with Harry and Hermione would be determined on how he dealt with this unwanted shift in their dynamic.

So, what the hell do I do now?

oOoOoOoOo

Harry Potter pulled back sharply on the handle of his Firebolt as he performed another high, banking turn, before settling himself at a more sedate pace. After leaving the Headmistress's office, he'd decided to head out to the Quidditch pitch as flying had often helped him in the past when he'd needed to clear his head. He'd spent the last fifteen minutes flying at high speed while performing a series of complicated manoeuvres, but for once he'd found little joy in the act of flying and had been unable to escape from his own thoughts.

He sighed deeply as he finally accepted the inevitable and braced himself to face the friend who sat on one of the high, wooden stands that surrounded the pitch.

Hermione.

He'd sensed her arrival five minutes ago but this was the first time he'd actually turned to look at her. It was something he was still struggling to get used to; that he could sense and recognise other people before he actually saw them. He knew it was merely a manifestation of his new condition, but he'd already come to realise that he was particularly attuned to the friend who sat waiting patiently for him in the stand below.

While he'd known she was there the second she arrived, he'd continued with his aerobatics as he sought to gather his thoughts before going to speak with her. That he wouldn't speak to her was not an option, of course. He thought of the old adage; you can run, but you can't hide, and smiled ruefully.

When it comes to Hermione, I don't think I can run or hide.

When she had discovered the truth about his first letter from Hogwarts; had learned the reality of his upbringing at the Dursleys, he'd felt such a sense of shame that he'd felt compelled to run. He'd faced many demons in his short life, but he had been unable to face Hermione's sympathy.

Her pity.

In the past few weeks he'd come to realise something quite profound about Hermione. He had realised that she was not simply the most important person in his life; the friend who had never abandoned him despite all the struggles and challenges they had endured. She was also the model; the benchmark against which he would measure every possible friend, every potential lover as his life progressed. It had also occurred to him that it was inconceivable that he would ever meet anyone who would measure up to her and what she meant to him and he was entirely comfortable with this truth.

This was more than merely falling for her; more even that just being in love with her. This was a realisation and an acknowledgement that Hermione Granger was all he would ever need in his life; that she completed him and offered a harbour for his soul and that he would accept whatever role in her life she wanted him to play.

It was for these reasons that he did not want her to learn the truth about his upbringing. He did not want the Dursleys to taint their relationship, whatever the form she was willing to offer. This was mainly why he never talked about his homelife. As far as he was concerned, the Dursleys were like a disease, their malevolent influence infecting and corrupting everything they came into contact with.

He did not want that for Hermione.

He finally decided that he had put off the conversation for long enough. He slowly approached her and noticed that although she offered him a soft smile, there was a sadness in her eyes. But there was something else too; an expectation and a sense of promise. He could feel her restlessness and as he neared her, he was almost overwhelmed by the myriad of subtle scents that permeated from her, each one signifying the emotional turmoil his friend was experiencing.

Anxiety, nervousness, sorrow, excitement, guilt, anger…it was all there and somehow, he was able to recognise each one despite the contradictory messages he was receiving. It occurred to him that she would be able to read him too, probably with more accuracy, and this knowledge gave him comfort as he realised the upcoming conversation would be made easier by the new abilities they shared.

There's no point in trying to hide anything. She'll know. He smiled. She always knew anyway. She never needed to be a werewolf to read me.

Finally arriving over the stand, he dismounted from his broom and took a seat next to her, close but not actually touching. They sat for some time in companionable silence before Hermione reached out and offered him her hand. After a moment's hesitation, he took it.

'I should have known,' said Hermione, her voice soft. Harry took a few seconds before replying.

'Why? Why should you have known? I never spoke about it. I never wanted you to know.'

'Because I'm your friend, Harry. I'm supposed to be your best friend.' There was a note of anguish in her tone and he felt a sudden surge of anger towards the Dursleys; a fury that their actions should cause her such distress. And now they've upset Hermione! he thought, now incandescent with rage at his relatives for causing her pain.

He suddenly realised that Hermione could sense this rage, for she abruptly turned to face him, a pleading look on her face as she squeezed his hand tightly.

'Oh, please forgive me, Harry! I understand why you're angry with me, and I'm really, really sorry, but can you ple…'

Her pleas were abruptly stopped as he gently placed his index finger on her lips.

'Shhhh. It's OK, Hermione. It really is. I'm not angry at you. There's nothing to forgive.' He slowly lowered his finger and took her right hand in both of his, shuffling along the bench so he could be closer to her, so that their faces were only inches apart.

'I'm not angry at you.' He repeated. 'I'm really not.' He licked his lips, wondering how to continue. 'I'm angry with the Dursleys. Angry with them for making you think that this is somehow your fault.' He sighed and slightly turned his face away. 'The truth is, Hermione, that I used to blame myself for how they treated me. I thought it must be something that I was doing wrong. It wasn't until I got to Hogwarts that I realised that they were the freaks; that the way they treated me wasn't right; wasn't normal.' He paused for a few moments and when he spoke again, his tone hardened.

'I finally realised that it was all their fault. That there was no excuse for how they treated me. That they were the ones in the wrong. It's why I never spoke about it. They caused enough harm at Privet Drive; I didn't want to let them spoil things at Hogwarts too. Didn't want them to affect my friends.'

Hermione gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 'I still should have said something; done something. I knew things weren't great there, but for them to lock you in a cupboard? For how long? What else did they do? Tell me, please?'

He shook his head. 'You couldn't have known. I didn't want to talk about it. When I was with you and Ron, I was always happy. Well, with you anyway,' he added as an afterthought. 'I didn't want to ruin that. I didn't want to give them that power over my life at Hogwarts. By keeping it to myself, I never allowed them to contaminate my life here. To contaminate you,' he added. 'Maybe one day, Hermione, I'll tell you all about it. But not today. I hope you understand?' he asked, seeking her understanding.

For her part, Hermione could sense his change in mood from white hot rage to gentle conciliation. She knew without doubt that he spoke the truth and she could tell from his words, his actions and his emotional state that he was being utterly truthful with her. She could also tell that he still harboured feelings of shame and guilt and she felt such an overpowering sense of love for him at that moment that she could weep. She tenderly placed her left hand under his chin and slowly turned his head so that he was facing her, waiting patiently for him to finally lift his eyes and look at her.

'Of course, I understand,' she finally replied, softly. 'It's just that I care about you so much, Harry, love you so much…' She faltered for a moment under his gaze and found herself becoming lost in his vibrant green eyes, her throat tightening as her world condensed down to the man sitting mere inches from her, his breath hot on her cheek, his scent overpowering her.

Hermione would never know – and in future days would often wonder – what changed for them in that moment. She would ponder on whether it was due to their heightened awareness of each other, or if it was as a result of their great need to be near one another. Perhaps, she would muse, it was simply the mutual, sub-conscious recognition that after everything they had shared together, neither would ever be able to be closer in mind and spirit to anyone else they might meet in their lives.

Whatever it was, at that particular moment, something changed in both of them and she could see the recognition in his eyes at this change; recognition she knew was reflected in her own countenance. Recognition that their relationship was at a crossroads; that the next step they took would redefine them forever.

There was also the mutual awareness that each could trust the other with their heart as well as with their life.

Their heads inexorably inched closer to each other, both seeking and receiving permission with their gaze, and as their lips finally met in the softest of collisions, they completed this crossing of their own personal Rubicon.

The Earth did not move. There was no great crescendo, nor was there a blinding flash of light. Instead, there was a comfort, a familiarity, a sense of complete and utter belonging that she had never experienced in her life. After a while, they parted, and as she gazed upon him, she instinctively knew that he too felt the same way; that the tenderness of their kiss merely confirmed what they both already recognised; confirmed that each belonged with the other. They shared a brief, shy smile before leaning forward, their lips colliding once more.

This time was different. As Hermione lost herself to the kiss, she found herself running her fingers through his hair as she felt his presence envelop her completely, so much so that she was aware of nothing but the feel of him; the scent of him; the all-encompassing warmth of his passion and his love and she surrendered herself to the moment.

Somehow, the kiss deepened further and this time she did feel her world move and despite her almost complete loss of reason, she realised with certainty that no one had ever made her feel like this; no one could ever make her feel the way Harry did.

After what seemed like an eternity, their lips finally parted and she leaned into him gasping for breath and aware that he was experiencing the same levels of passion and desire and of love that she was. They both took a few moments to regain their composure before she leaned back to look at him, to see her own love reflected in his eyes.

'Wow,' he said softly, and she found herself giggling like a schoolgirl at his reaction. They shared a brief moment of amusement before she became serious again and looked directly at him.

'You're still my best friend, Harry, whatever happens. I hope you always will be.'

He smiled at her words and his face seemed to radiate happiness. He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her, placing his lips against her ear and she heard his promise, pledged to her in a ragged whisper.

'I'm yours, Hermione, always yours. In any way you'll have me. Always yours.'