.

So far... 7th birthday, Harry was inspired to never stop asking for and giving help. Adopted by Mercy Fuller, he launched a junior academy. Now at Hogwarts, a troll killed Filch. Aurors investigated after Mercy informed the Daily Prophet. Harry's sure Voldemort was after the Philosopher's Stone. Read on...

.

Chapter 9

Valuable Lessons

.

The Hidden Instruction

Mercy Fuller's Potions classroom was far more light and airy than Snape's dungeon could ever be. The weather had turned surprisingly mild for November, the windows were half open, and one of the last Glumbumbles of summer had droned mournfully in, attracted by the pleasant aroma of the many herbs and spices that filled the air. Quickly the arriving children's excitement became dampened, and a few frowns appeared here and there as they came in the door.

"Good morning, children," began the impervious Mercy with a beaming smile as they were entering, "take your places and pair up with whoever you wish. However, you'll be needing a second-year spell – the freezing charm – so make sure one of you can perform it adequately. Come to me if you're stuck and I'll help you."

Hermione's hand shot up comically almost before she'd come through the door. "Do you mean Immobulus, Professor? I thought it was only for stopping things moving?"

"That is its effect on active objects and living creatures, but on passive materials like ingredients, the spell hinders the oscillation of its particles which is–?"

"–HEAT!" cried Hermione, jumping up and down on her heels with delight. "Heat energy in matter is the vibration of molecules and atoms."

"Correct – five points to Ravenclaw. But make sure you only cast the charm very lightly or your cream will become absolutely and painfully cold. For example, with such delicate use of the spell I can reduce the speed of this insect without actually stopping it. ... Immobulus It's all about fine control of your magic."

The strident buzzing of the Glumbumble's wings were reduced to a miserable flap, and the startled creature hung suspended in the air for many seconds before despondently turning to make a very long exit back to the Forest.

The mood brightened without its gloomy influence and the students began looking around for who to partner with and where to sit, but were distracted by their teacher's next action...

Mercy had conjured up a floating, rotating whiteboard and spun it extremely fast with her wand, then lightly cast the freezing charm so it would eventually come to a halt, but not stop immediately. Harry saw it flashing grey and realised it was a blackboard on the other side. As it slowed down, he perceived lettering and sketches on both sides. The whizzing board hummed as it spun, and Harry recognised the tune it was humming, but couldn't remember its name without any lyrics. His mother was certainly entertaining, and miles better than Snape.

"Harry...?" Hermione indicated an empty bench with a hopeful look on her face.

"Uumm..." teased Harry, looking around as if to see who else was available to partner with him. "Oh, alright then," he grinned.

She broke out in smiles then and started pulling books, notes, quills and other paraphernalia out of her bag onto the bench. The humming of the white–blackboard slowed down to its final chorus and Harry frowned, trying to recall the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

Hermione softly sang, "Ask–him–to–reap–with–a–Sickle–of–leather," and as the board came to a halt with the blackboard facing them, she pointed at one of the many ingredients which was a Silver-Sickle's worth of fairy-vellum: the finest membrane ever made, anywhere.

Now the tune was even more familiar – though he couldn't recall those particular lyrics until Hermione continued her singing without it, "Parsley–sage–rosemary–and–thyme..."

"Aah, now I know why I agreed to partner with you," he grinned.

"And–gather–it up–with–rope–made–of–heather..."

Hermione's voice was so sweet, and so relevant to the brew's ingredients, that everyone had silently paused to listen, entranced by the melody.

"For–then–you'll–be–a... true–love–of–mine..." Hermione was blushing furiously as the last words passed her lips, but she could hardly stop with everyone watching.

"Devil's Broth?" cried Neville, glaring at the blackboard and then accusingly at Harry. "I thought you said–"

"–Now children," cut in Madam Fuller, "we have a choice of either of two quite different potions, yet both of which share many of the same ingredients. More importantly, the preparation and brewing are also very similar so the lesson will effectively be the same. However, for Devil's Broth you'll also need to clean and scrape several giant sloth's rectums before you can suck the mixture through them as straws, as well as the meticulous squeezing and preparation of four skunk's anal glands, plus, of course, my personal favourite: the snot from several disgruntled pigs' snouts."

Jaws dropped in shock and disgust.

"What's the other choice, Professor?" said Harry in a shaky voice, well aware of his mother's sense of humour but keeping his fingers crossed over his blue ring behind him anyway. Perhaps he could slip away without her noticing...

"Let's see..." A wand swish turned the board over to the whiteboard. "Draught of Chocofroth with crème glacée éternelle and moonlit cherry delight."

"Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!"

"The catch is..." continued Mercy.

The students fell silent.

"It can only be one or the other for the entire class, so you must learn to negotiate complete and total agreement."

Several seconds passed as they tried to digest what she'd said, then it took them about one second for a show of hands to agree.

"Strange..." she murmured to herself, but loudly enough that everyone could hear, "why do first-years always choose the whiteboard option? More than a few spoonfuls will give you stomachache whereas Devil's Broth fires you up to bring wicked rewards throughout your day."

Always the hidden message, thought Harry, exchanging a knowing smile with his mother. Never judge by appearances.

Fortunately, the spoons that Mercy Fuller handed out at the end of the lesson were more like scoops, so it was with fat, contented stomachs that the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first-years finally made their way out for a free period – their Defence class being cancelled until a new teacher could be found to replace the missing Quirrell.

.

The Life Debt

"My ice cream didn't last as long as I'd hoped," said Luna in a rare grumble as they walked down to find a spare classroom to practise spells in. "I don't think they should call it everlasting, do you?"

Hermione said, "It's the 'ice' part that's everlasting, Luna. The soft ice cream never actually melts until you eat it."

"But then the ice cream is not really everlasting is it? It should be more like when you have your cake and eat it too, so you're never without cake. Mummy used to bake a–"

"–scourgify!"

Harry paused as he was reaching out to the handle of the door before which they had stopped, then put his finger to his lips. "Listen..." he hissed.

"scourgify! scourgify! scourgify!" Then silence followed by–

"–That's the new caretaker's voice," whispered Hermione. "I thought she was a Squib."

"No," said Luna, "I saw the shape of a wand in her pocket at breakfast."

Again, Harry was reminded of how observant Luna could be, no matter how absent-minded she appeared.

Neville braced himself. "Squib or not, 'Wack' is not the name of any known magical family. Let's just go in and–"

"–Don't," said Harry, firmly. He'd experienced enough humiliation in his younger life to know the sound of stifled sobbing. "You lot find another room."

"What are you going to do, Harry?" said Hermione, but she kind of knew the answer.

"I'm not sure..." never stop, never stop, never stop offering help...

He waited until they'd all left then quietly knocked and entered. "Oh, sorry!" he said, "I thought this room was empty. I wanted to practise a few spells."

"You're... you're..."

"Harry Potter, pleased to meet you Miss Wack, or may I call you Hyacinth?"

She nodded, quickly hid her wand and smoothed her hands over her pinafore robe.

There was still an awful lot of dust around, and she'd brought a sweeping brush and feather duster into the room with her just in case, Harry noticed. "Look, it's none of my business but your wand isn't right." – he was taking an awful gamble – "I mean, well, I admit I heard your spell from outside and it sounded brilliant, so it's got to be your wand."

She glared and lifted her small frame up to its full five foot two to show she was both taller than, and senior to, Harry, then, just as suddenly, she seemed to remember who she was talking with, and sagged down again. "It's my great-great-great-grandfather's wand, and he did wonderful–"

–never stop! "On your mother's side?" said Harry, recalling what Neville had said.

She nodded. "How did you–"

"–Your parents are Muggles, aren't they?"

"What if they are!" she flared, then instantly deflated again.

never stop! "My natural mother was a Muggle-born too, but my adoptive mum prefers to use the term 'New-blood' – and so do I when possible. She says the Magical community would die out without new blood, so we set up an academy to give them the support that the Ministry fails to do. never stop! Did you go to school at Hogwarts?"

"Look, I've got work to do and–"

–never stop! "Well, if you need a friend, you can count on me. Look..." he swung his bag off his shoulder and dug into it. "Here's my old beginner's wand – give it a try. It can't do every spell but..." Again he scrabbled through his stuff. "Here's the instructions, and the spells it can do! Uumm..." He held up a tattered little booklet, grinning ruefully. "Yeah, well, it got used a lot."

A tiny smile appeared on the woman's face at his genuine eagerness to help as she accepted his gift. "Thanks."

"Anyway, you can also call on the elves for these mundane tasks – you're more of a castle manager than a skivvy – didn't the Headmaster explain all that?"

She shook her head. "Not sure I'm good enough..." then she muttered, "I was failed out of Hogwarts..."

"What?"

"End of my first year. Professor Dumbledore tried to keep me on, but I scored 'Troll' on three of my end-of-term practicals, and the other test results were probably sympathy scores anyway..."

"Yeah, well, Dumbledore should have tried harder to help you!" cried Harry.

"He got me this job!" shouted Hyacinth.

"He should have got you a wand!" fumed Harry. "Listen, Dumbledore appears to mean well but he doesn't take enough care over people who need support and advice. My mum could help you there. In fact..." He scribbled down the Academy address and handed the note to Hyacinth. "And while you're in Diagon Alley, get yourself a wand that's attuned to you. The wand has to choose you; don't just use a family wand unless it feels right."

"Erm... maybe next year when I'm not so uumm... busy."

"A loan. You need a loan if you don't get paid till the end of November. The Academy provides loans for gifted people. Tell mum I sent you. We absolutely never refuse anyone who genuinely needs help."

She found the courage to stare at him then. "You don't even know who I am. Why are you helping me?"

"Because I was helped when I was little, so it's a kind of life debt."

"But you don't owe me anything!"

"No, to Life; I owe Life itself a debt. And it'll take me a lifetime to pay it off."

With a final smile, Harry walked away.

.

Mental and Magical Dexterity

Harry found his friends back in Mercy's now-vacant Potions classroom. They'd moved benches apart to clear the middle of the chamber. Neville was sitting on a brightly-patterned rug staring at Hermione's open box of magic puzzles, and looking rather dejected. "Harry! Have you done this one? They won't show me! Well, Luna would have, but Hermione won't let her."

"But that would spoil the challenge," said Hermione, smugly casting blue flames that danced around her in the air, illuminating Neville's face as he looked up. He squirmed around rubbing his hands across the beautiful carpet and averted his scowl.

"Did Hyacinth stop crying, Harry?" said Luna.

"Yeah – she's been using an old family wand without much success. I remembered, Neville, that you didn't have much luck with your dad's wand, so..."

"That's right," said Neville, "but your mother soon sorted me out with a new wand. It's not helping me here much though..." He stretched out across his long mat and pointed to what looked like three chess pieces in the box on the floor nearby. "Supposed to give you practice with Accio"

"And Ravenclaw wit," said Hermione, sending her flames into beautiful spirals up to the ceiling.

Harry frowned. "The summoning charm? Isn't that fourth-year?"

"But you can do it if you really try," said Luna. "We all learned it while you were downstairs."

"WHAT! You three can all do it?"

"Not perfectly," said Hermione, "but that's what the practice puzzle is for."

"Let's have it," groaned Harry. "Tell me what to do."

Hermione showed him the wand movement and incantation. Ten minutes passed before one of the chess pieces twitched, but one minute later it leapt towards him and he caught it in flight. "Got it! Piece of cake really," he added haughtily as he stuck it back in the box.

"That's not the puzzle, Harry," smirked Hermione.

"What then?"

"You have to steer it onto the other magic carpet."

"The what! A MAGIC carpet? Where's that then?"

"You're standing on it."

Harry leapt about a foot in the air then dodged sideways. "Damn, are these even legal?" He gazed down. The carpet was faded grey and looking rather forlorn. No wonder he hadn't noticed it.

"It's not a real flying carpet, Harry," said Neville. "Just a game carpet like the one I'm on. Came shrunk in the puzzle box."

Harry nodded. The large brightly-patterned rug upon which Neville lay boasted a great many vivid colours.

"It's legal in Persia," said Luna, sagely. "You can fly it all round the world in Persia."

Hermione stifled whatever retort she'd been about to make, and rolled her eyes instead. "The point is, you have to summon all three pieces onto the carpet with you."

"All at once!"

"No, Harry," smiled Hermione, "not all at once. The puzzle is to teach you magical dexterity and logic."

"O...kaaay..."

Several minutes passed. He could now summon each piece within reach of his snatch almost every time, but Hermione scolded him if he simply placed it by hand on the carpet at his feet. "Magical dexterity, remember?"

Finally, after breaking out in a sweat of concentration, Harry managed to summon one of the pieces to land on the carpet with him. It exploded into bright red flames about eighteen inches high, almost singeing his trousers and, once again, he leapt away from the carpet. "What the heck is that!" There was an impish little face within the fire, and the flames formed limbs with which it cavorted about madly.

He became aware the girls were laughing softly, and even Neville sat up and was grinning broadly.

"It's a fire demon, Harry," explained Hermione. "It can't get off the carpet but it won't behave itself unless you are on the carpet with it – since you are the one who summoned it, you're its master."

Tentatively, Harry stepped back onto the dull fabric, and the creature settled down to a reddish glow that glared up at him. "Well, that wasn't so bad," said Harry.

Neville said, "The problem is to get all three pieces onto that carpet, then get them home."

Harry's face wrinkled up in consternation. Neville reached into the box and opened up a folded sheet of yellowing parchment. "The puzzle story in basically this, Harry. You are a great wizard who's magic carpet is worn out – that's the grey one – and you have to get your familiars home from the market on this new carpet you've just bought."

"So I have to summon them here, then summon them there?"

"Yes, but–"

"–Don't tell him, Neville," said Hermione. "Let him find out for himself."

"Find out what?" said Harry.

Hermione hummed softly to herself as she played with her blue flames.

"Find out what, Hermione?" growled Harry.

"You'll see."

Harry sighed and summoned the second piece. It missed landing on his carpet so he had to try many times. Neville, he noticed, had moved well away from the other carpet.

Finally, the second piece splashed over his shoes, soaking his trouser legs. "Don't tell me – water sprite?"

Luna giggled. "Isn't she cute?"

"How can you tell it's a– aaaagh!" As the globule of water took shape, he could see that it's glistening naked curves were definitely female. The girl was almost his knee height from where she gazed seductively up at him and delicately crooned. The fire demon spat and crackled in jealousy.

"She's not... she can't..." he whispered nervously, covering his ears and trying not to look her in the eye.

"No, Harry, remember, she's not a real water sprite, just conjured by the charmed piece. You're not in danger of losing... anything."

He nodded his relief. "And the third one?"

"A wood nymph," said Neville. "That one tried to get up my trouser leg so watch it."

"He's joking," smiled Hermione, on seeing Harry's expression of dismay.

"No, it did, honestly," said Neville with great earnestness.

Harry sighed and summoned the third piece, and, at his first attempt, just managed to land it on the edge of the carpet where he eyed its twiggy strutting nervously.

"So, I just walk over to the other carpet and summon them?"

He strode confidently over to where Neville had been sitting cross-legged earlier, but immediately heard a roar of flame behind him, followed by a sizzling sound. Instincts kicked in and he whirled around with his wand pointing.

He frowned. "Where's the demon? And the woody thing?"

Only the water sprite remained, and she beckoned enticingly towards him.

Luna clapped her hands in delight. "She's so sweet and innocent, isn't she? I like to call her Felicia."

"Why?" frowned Harry.

"Because her name's Felicia," said Luna with one of her more dreamy expressions.

"They won't behave if you leave the carpet, Harry," said Neville. "The fire demon burnt the wood nymph, and the–"

"–Felicia," Luna said firmly.

"Felicia doused the fire demon."

Harry groaned. "So how do I summon them if I can't go over there? Move the carpet nearer?"

"Makes no difference," said Neville.

Hermione said, "Simple-minded and conjured creatures behave differently than passive objects to the summoning charm, Harry. They follow."

"Okay... so the water sprite is the most powerful, and both of the others were destroyed?" He discovered the missing pieces were back in the box. He summoned them to him on the old grey carpet, then summoned 'Felicia' to go with him.

She followed obediently, dewy-eyed, as he strode to the new carpet, but on the way he heard the roar and crackle as the wood nymph burnt up.

Hermione said, "You're forgetting–"

"–Yeah, I know." At his next attempt, Harry gave it a little more thought first – then a crafty grin spread over his features. He took the fire demon first, and triumphantly looked back as 'Woody' tried to cuddle 'Felicia.' "They seem to be getting along alright – at least they're not killing each other."

Back he went and successfully summoned 'Woody' to follow him to the new carpet. Only 'Felicia' now remained on the old carpet, but as he went back to fetch her, the fire demon consumed the wood nymph on the new carpet. He sighed.

"That's as far as I got as well," moaned Neville.

"But it's obvious, isn't it," said Luna. "All you have to do is–"

"–Hush, Luna!" cried Hermione. "They have to–"

"–But..."

"They should practise and learn for themselves, Luna, else how will they–"

"–I DID IT!" came the cry from the door. "Oh! Sorry." It was Hyacinth holding up her safety wand. "Sorry... it's uumm..."

"It's alright," cried Harry, "we're all friends here. This is Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, and Luna Lovegood."

"Pleased to meet you. I erm..."

"Oh, that's like the wand I learned with!" cried Luna. "Show me what spell you did!"

"Well, it's only the cleansing charm," was Hyacinth's eager response, "but it worked wonderf–"

"–Is that a Squi–safety wand?" blurted Neville.

"No!" Harry cut in quickly. "It's an approved junior wand with no magic of its own. Only a true witch can cast her magic through it." He stared at Hyacinth, fearful that she'd been offended by Neville's remark, but she hadn't even heard him. She was gazing at the conjured creatures. The fire demon was leering at the water sprite, but was unable to leave his carpet to go to her.

"They're wonderful!" said Hyacinth. "You're all so advanced. How did you manage to produce–"

"–Actually, they're from a box of charmed puzzles," said Harry. "When you go down to Diagon Alley you ought to visit Curiosa and Curiosa; they have all sorts of useful charms to provide magic we've not yet mastered."

"I will. Thank you, Harry," said Hyacinth. "Oh well, guess I'd better get back to work."

With mixed feelings, they watched her walk away.

.

The Endless History Lesson

The Aurors came to the same conclusion as had Harry and Hermione – that Quirrell had summoned the troll into the castle as a diversion while he attempted to steal the Philosopher's Stone, but had missed his opportunity because of Harry's presence, then fled when the Daily Prophet reported the incident. One third-year boy was removed from Hogwarts by his parents, yet strangely, Dumbledore was only fined a token fifty Galleons for negligence – on condition he remove the dark and dangerous enticement from the school. Meanwhile, wanted posters were placed in all magical communities. Hogsmeade thrived on the gossip, as did Diagon Alley. But few wished to believe that You-Know-Who was involved.

"It was him, I know it was," grumbled Harry to his friends as they walked to their History class. The more they pondered the insecurity of the castle, the more wary they were about walking the corridors. "The Headmaster should accept responsibility and not be allowed to get away with this!"

It was obvious that Dumbledore had covered up his failures by claiming that at the time it was not known any crime had been committed. It had appeared – so he said – that a beast had wandered in, and there was nothing to be done but clean up the gore before the students saw the horrific result.

The kids took their places and watched the ghostly Professor Binns entering through the blackboard as usual.

"So why is the third-floor corridor still forbidden?" hissed Neville.

"Is it?" said Hermione.

"That's what everyone says. I mean, if the Philosopher's Stone remains up there and Voldemort wants it then–"

"–then he'll find a way in again," said Harry. "He was invisible when I heard his voice. He could be anywhere right now."

Hermione and Neville glanced about nervously, but Luna said soothingly, "If it had been easy for him to enter the castle and get the Stone he'd have taken it by now – yet he didn't. I'm sure he relied on Professor Quirrell somehow. That must mean You-Know-Who was badly weakened when you thwarted him as a baby, Harry – if he has to rely on people to get him about, I mean. He's probably just a wispy Hinkypunk without even a lantern."

Harry nodded. "You're right! Something happened that day because there was no body according to the accounts at the Ministry. What if he's just a worm? A vapour with only a voice? Nor can he use Quirrell again, not with those wanted posters all over the place. And it can't be easy for him to find another as gullible as Quirrell if Voldemort's so weak."

The friends cheered up and relaxed after that. Neville half-dozed off against Luna's shoulder as Binns' dull lecture continued. Harry and Hermione put their heads together and angled inwards to share note-taking as they'd learned to do at the Academy. It's not cheating, Harry – it's efficient, his mother's words reassured him, and Hermione was more than agreeable.

It was nice being close to her, Harry realised. Girls are strange that way. He wondered if it was her magic – but no, they'd all learned to sense Magic, and he could detect hers by reaching out with his own. No, this was something else: a comfortable pleasure that reminded him of when Robert Hilliard had his grubby hands round Cho Chang! Harry smiled to himself. Hermione would never let boys do that to her without a severe–

"–We missed the year," she whispered in his ear. "Did you get it? Was it 1741 or...?"

"Sorry."

"It's alright..." she murmured, patting his hand reassuringly. "We can look it up easily enough. Anyway," she continued to muse softly, "your mum said precise years are only for those who wish to make a career of..." She tailed off into some inner dream that could only be guessed at.

Harry noticed that in her trance, Hermione had forgotten to move her fingers away from his, and he became possessed by an intense desire that she would not. He slowed his breath in case it might draw her attention to that touch. A minute passed. Then two. Now he couldn't move his own hand – not for a million Galleons. Their heads were down together over the parchment – her hair sometimes brushing his forehead as she appeared to browse their merged scribbles up and down ... up ... and ... down. Then... a stillness... Binns had paused in his delivery. Nothing was happening anywhere else anymore. Not in all the world. Just these two innocents absorbed in each other. There were no years anymore.

.

The Bitter Pill

The next few days turned much colder. Not daring to discuss or even mention the exquisitely-subtle emotions they'd shared so instinctively in the History class, Harry and Hermione became quite awkward together, speaking only essentials, and not looking at each other. Luna and Neville were getting extra attention from Hermione, chatting extensively and exclusively, especially when Harry was around. He felt miserably excluded.

Potions class forced them together. Mercy Fuller's sharp perceptiveness immediately spotted their embarrassing angst as they hesitated while watching other students partnering up. "Mandy, could you swap places with Terry today, please. Harry, Hermione, you already know today's theory quite well and I want to focus on the principles with those who were not at the Academy, so can you take the back corner bench and revise together? Susan and Ernest move forward – thank you. Michael and Padma just here so I can help you better..."

As she continued directing the rest of the class, both Hermione and Harry were thankful they themselves hadn't had to make the choice. They fumbled their textbooks out as they sat down, and could hardly avoid using the same sharing methods they'd employed for quite a while now. But it was not the same. The freedom was gone and a wretched emptiness was all that remained in both their hearts.

When they stood to brew the day's lesson it was routine and filled with a painful sense of loss. They were relieved when it was over. They handed in their potion and, with the rest of the students, began filing out of the classroom.

"Harry, could you stay behind a few minutes, please," said Mercy.

Only Luna and Neville looked back, but Harry shrugged and waved them on. "Catch you later."

"You too, please, Hermione," added Mercy.

Hermione froze halfway out the door, but dutifully returned, head down. She'd struggled to concentrate while stirring their broth; surely Harry had counted? Her head was still in a whirl of emotional preoccupation but she thought their potion had been at least acceptable. Was Mercy expecting Outstanding every time?

Only when the last of the children had gone did Mercy close the door with a flutter of her fingers. "Hermione, I wish to speak to you now as a friend, and you, Harry, as my son."

"What's up?" mumbled Harry suspiciously, taking a lot of time to adjust the weight of the bag on his shoulder.

Mercy did not wait but spoke bluntly. "A special friendship is growing between you two and–"

"–WHAT!" cried Harry – both he and Hermione stared slack-jawed at Mercy.

Mercy smiled. "Look, it's perfectly clear that you are sweet on each other." – Harry winced and his stare swung about the walls and ceiling for an escape – "So, Harry," continued Mercy, "I want you to ask Hermione if you may hold her hand, and Herm–"

"–Aaaw, Mum!" cringed Harry, looking everywhere but at the other two.

"And you, Hermione, must refuse him and sound like you mean it."

"WHAT! Why?" cried Hermione.

"I have to get back to the Academy very soon, so please hurry because I cannot leave until I have taught you properly."

"Do I have to?" groaned Harry. "What's the big deal? Hermione can I hold your hand? See? No problem." His hand shot out stiffly, but Hermione hesitated.

"I... uumm..." Hermione saw Mercy shaking her head quite severely. "No, I don't want to hold your hand, Harry."

Harry flinched, but only for a moment. "Right, can we go now, Mum? We've got Transfig in a few minutes and you know Prof–"

"–Harry, how do you feel?"

"Impatient. We've got about three microseconds to–"

"–Harry, please don't... not to me," his mother said softly. "Look at me. How do you really feel?"

His head jolted up. The edge of disappointment in her eyes was worse than any rebuke. His shoulders sagged. "I feel bad."

Mercy said, "Hermione, your actions have hurt Harry quite deeply. How would you feel if he refused you your–"

"–Please don't continue this, Mercy," wailed Hermione, her eyes now shining wet. "Harry, I did want to hold your hand, honestly."

Mercy smiled. "And you, Harry? Did you?"

"Of course, but– HEY! who said I–"

–He was unable to finish because Hermione flung herself forward to smother him with such a hug he'd need a road map to find his way out. When he surfaced from the euphoric labyrinth, gasping for air, and saw Hermione's eyes pleading hopefully with him, he yielded completely to his first smile in a while.

Hermione beamed and wiped her eyes.

"Discuss your emotions or they may hurt longtime!" said Mercy. "If I could set you homework on this subject instead of Potions, I'd suggest you talk together a LOT about your feelings for each other."

Mercy Fuller checked the bag from her desk and hefted it up, then bent down to give Harry a kiss. "Here's a note in case you're late for Charms – and you still have NINETY seconds if you run." She kissed Hermione's forehead then was gone out the door before their minds stopped whirling.

Without Mercy's presence, both Hermione and Harry felt anxiously poised on a knife edge: children preparing to journey across a border into an unfamiliar wonderland. Several seconds passed. Which way might they–

–then he was reaching out to her with a sheepish grin on his face. "So... are we... you know...?"

Hermione smiled and accepted his hand. "We are."

And fingers blissfully entwined... they walked away.

.

—oOo—

.

Author's Notes

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

– Hippothestrowl

.