Chapter 6

September 2001

There was a birthday party for Hermione the weekend before her actual birthday at Luna and Rolf's house, just outside of Bodmin.

There was a cake, but it only survived the first twenty minutes of the party (which was ten minutes longer than Hermione thought it would when she first saw it propped on the table). It was destroyed by a jarvey in his quest to catch a flying seahorse that had escaped the large aquarium at the edge of the sitting room.

Rolf had apologized to Hermione profusely, but she didn't mind. Things like this always happened at this house, everyone was used to it by now.

Rolf and Luna had the house with all the wild animals, Neville and Hannah had the house with the wild plants (though those mostly stayed contained in the greenhouse), and Harry had the former dark wizard house. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione just lived in boring flats - which is why their friends rarely congregated at their places.

Someone had gone out to get cupcakes to replace the cake, and they'd just finished them off and were starting in on a large game of exploding snap when Harry nudged Hermione. "Psst."

"What?" she whispered back, then wondered why they were whispering.

He cocked his head toward the back door and she followed him out onto the patio. Neville and Hannah exchanged knowing looks when they saw them leave but didn't say anything.

The change in atmosphere once Hermione crossed the threshold of the door was abrupt. It was cold and dark, and the laughter and yells from inside the vibrant house were muted as soon as the door closed. It was actually sort of nice. Hermione took in a large breath of cold air and was about to cast a warming charm, but Harry beat her to it. Instead, she made a few lights float around so they could see.

Harry waved his wand and moved the lights toward the end of the patio, illuminating a small area just out of sight of the door, instead of the whole patio, like Hermione had done. He walked toward the lights and leaned against the stone wall there.

"Hey," he said in a low voice when she stopped in front of him.

"Hi. What's with the clandestine getaway? Are we about to commit a crime of some sort?"

"I know how much you like breaking laws, but no. Not tonight." She noticed then that he was holding a lumpy package. She hadn't noticed it before and wondered where he'd been hiding it.

"Happy Birthday," he said as he handed it to her.

"Oh. Thanks. But you already got me something." She motioned toward the inside of the house, where the book he'd bought her was sitting on a table somewhere, along with a lot of other books.

Harry clicked his tongue. "Nah, that was the fake gift. This is your real gift," he shook the package in his hand. "That's our thing now, right? Give a book at the party, then exchange the real gift later?"

Our thing. For some reason, the way he said that made Hermione's heart skip a beat. "Right, I guess so," she said quickly, trying to sound normal.

"Full disclosure, it's not as thoughtful as yours. I tried, but I couldn't think of anything quite like what you gave me, but I still think you'll like this."

Hermione opened the package to reveal a beautiful, gold scarf. It was soft like silk, but also warm and heavy, somehow. Hermione was sure there was some sort of magic at play.

"This is lovely," she said, a little surprised he'd managed to get her an item of clothing she'd been meaning to get herself. The chunky green scarf she wore all the time was nearly falling apart and she'd meant to stop by Diagon Alley and get a new one, but Harry had beaten her to it.

He'd taken the scarf from her and begun wrapping it around her neck. "This is more than just a beautiful scarf," he stated. He'd finished wrapping it around her and was pulling her hair out from under it, sending shivers down Hermione's spine each time his fingers grazed her neck.

Hermione's heart rate quickened but luckily, Harry didn't seem to notice. He had stepped back and was watching her with a look of anticipation, his wand raised. "Ready?"

Hermione looked around them. "For what?"

He dropped the warming charm, and Hermione instinctively pulled her hands up to her arms. But just then, Harry tapped the scarf with his wand. Immediately, a feeling of warmth spread from the scarf around her neck throughout her body. It felt like she'd slipped into a warm bath.

"Oh, my God." She was beaming and looking down at her hands, which felt warm for the first time all night. Even inside the house they'd been cold. They were always cold. "This is incredible. How did I not know something like this existed?"

Harry looked very pleased with himself. He leaned against the wall again. "Probably because whenever you go to a clothing store, you get the one thing you went there for and leave immediately."

"As opposed to you, who roams those stores for hours, looking for all the latest fashions?" she quipped.

He let out a laugh. "Actually; funny story. I discovered this incredible invention by accident. I was getting a new set of robes when a witch noticed me from the other end of the store. I could tell instantly she was one of the bad kind of fans, with the crazy eyes. I jumped into a rack of these scarves and hid in the middle with a Disillusionment Charm until the coast was clear. While I was in there, reading the sign about these scarves, I knew I had to get you one."

Hermione looked back down at the scarf. It really was beautiful, and the material was so fine. That, coupled with the spell, must have made it very expensive. She wanted to protest, and point out that her gift to him had been free, but he was standing in front of her again, very close, and running his hands along the edges of the scarf, effectively distracting her from her previous thoughts.

"Most of them were bright-colored and gaudy," he was saying, distantly. "Definitely not your style, and I almost gave it up, when I saw this one tucked away near the back. It immediately reminded me of your eyes."

Hermione's heart jolted again. This was very different for them. This felt like a couple exchanging a gift, and that thought scared her. "My eyes are brown," she pointed out, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Harry looked up from the scarf and focused on her eyes. "They have these little flecks of gold in them."

"Do they?" Her voice cracked a little. Well, so much for trying to sound casual. He didn't seem to notice. He was nodding as he continued to look in her eyes.

"Believe me, I spend more time looking at them than you do. I had a feeling this would highlight those little flecks, and I was right." He dropped his hands from the scarf and took a step back.

"This suits you...and it makes your eyes look brighter." He was giving her an appraising look and she looked down, embarrassed.

He hadn't brought up the topic of her being pretty since his speech a few weeks ago, but she could tell he was thinking of it now. He had that same look in his eyes that he had then, the look that made her feel like she was someone lovely who didn't want to take his eyes off of.

"Let me guess - you think I'm beautiful?" She tried to say it flippantly, so they could pass it off as another joke, but when he replied, his tone was serious.

"Yes. And I'm going to keep telling you, until you finally believe me."

"You may have to tell me a million times."

"I can do that," he replied quickly.

Hermione sighed and Harry resumed his spot on the wall. Hermione was doing math in her head and as she did so, she noticed Harry shiver and cast a Warming Charm for him. He nodded in thanks and she turned to face him. "You realize if you told me once a day, you'd have to do that for almost 3000 years to reach a million."

"Huh. How many times a day would I need to tell you to accomplish it in, like, five years?"

Hermione thought for a second. "Over 500."

"Damn. Maybe it'll be a ten-year goal and even then, 250 times a day. I guess I should get started: You're beautiful, you're beautiful, you're beautiful, you're beautiful-"

She shoved him and they both started laughing. Hermione let out a large, internal sigh of relief. This was familiar, them just joking around.

After their laughs subsided, they settled into a comfortable silence, leaning against the wall with their shoulders barely touching, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione thought they should probably go back inside, since she was technically the guest of honor, but she was enjoying the quiet and marveling at how warm she felt, but not overly so. It was perfect.

"Harry?" Hermione turned her head to face him.

He kept his eyes forward, focusing on one of the floating lights. "Yeah?"

"If you keep calling me beautiful. Someone will notice."

"Yeah." He turned his head toward her, then knocked his hip against hers as he smiled. "I'm sort of hoping that person will be you."

Hermione went quiet. She wanted to go back to the joking, but she thought this was a conversation they should probably have. She just didn't know where to start or what, exactly, she wanted to say.

"Who are you worried about? Them?" He motioned toward the house. "Worst case, they ask if something is going on, and we tell them the truth: No, there's nothing here. Crisis averted."

There's nothing here. Those words caused another jolt in her chest. What was going on? She was so on edge today. Maybe because she was getting her period next week. Or, more likely, because she was seeing her parents tonight.

Harry leaned into her, nudging her shoulder this time. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she said honestly.

"Do you not want people to know you're a recovering self-hater?" he guessed.

"Yeah, maybe."

Harry nodded, frowning slightly. "I'm not really planning to tell you you're beautiful 250 times a day. I don't want it to turn into some game. But when I'm really thinking it, I'll let you know."

Hermione hummed in response. She was thinking that he didn't need to say it, she could tell by the way he looked at her. Had he ever looked at her like that before, and she just hadn't noticed? Or was this a new thing?

Her heart was beating fast again, just thinking about how his eyes looked when he was appraising her, like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at. It was terrifying, uplifting, and intoxicating all at once.

Harry could tell she was anxious about something but guessed incorrectly about the source. "Are you nervous about tonight?"

She nodded. It was true, even if it wasn't the reason for her current anxiety.

"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"No. Thanks though."

Harry wrapped one of his arms around her and pulled her into a half-hug. "It'll only be a few days, and I'll be thinking about you - we all will be."

Just then, there was a crash inside, followed by a squeal. They both jumped and Harry already had his wand out. Hermione wondered if that was some part of his training - brandishing his wand as quickly as possible. There was a burst of laughter and Harry relaxed.

"I guess it can't be that bad if they're laughing," he muttered.

She nodded. "Yeah, but we should probably go back inside, anyway."

She went ahead of Harry, eager to put some distance between them, but he stayed back, biting his lip. He'd hoped to cheer her up more before she had to leave in a few hours for Australia. He wished he knew more about that whole situation, but Hermione refused to discuss it. All he knew for certain was that her relationship with her parents was strained, and that she didn't want to talk about it.

At least she'd only be gone for a few days. Once she was back on Wednesday, he'd be there, ready to support her in any way he could. But it had been clear she liked her gift, so that was something. And now, maybe she wouldn't be so cold all the time, constantly wrapping her arms around herself and sitting on her hands.

Just then, Ron appeared in the doorway. "There you are. What are you doing out here?"

"Nothing. I'm on my way back." Harry took one final breath before standing up from the wall and joining his friends inside.

"Why aren't you here making this pie with me? You said this wouldn't be that hard, but there are like thirty steps."

Hermione was sitting on the couch, reading a book, and hadn't noticed Harry's head in the flames until he'd started talking.

"It's Wednesday." She pointed to the calendar on her wall, then realized he couldn't see it.

"I know. Happy actual Birthday, by the way. What are you doing over there? Why aren't you here? Did something happen?"

Hermione shook her head, confused. Her brain wasn't firing as quickly as usual. Half of it was still in the book she'd been reading, and the other half was trying (and failing) to avoid thinking about her recent trip.

"We agreed to move our Tuesday dinner to Wednesday this week," Harry was saying. "Did you forget? No…you don't forget things, something's clearly wrong. I'm coming over."

Hermione stepped toward the fireplace, about to protest, when Harry's head disappeared from the green flames. A moment later, he was walking out of her fireplace and immediately started scanning her appearance.

She crossed her arms and sat back on the couch. "Harry, I'm knackered from my trip. Just as I was getting used to the time change, it was time to come back. My body thinks it's the middle of the night right now. Can we just skip it this week?"

"Tell me what happened."

Hermione turned away from him. "Nothing happened. I'm tired, that's all."

"No, something happened. You look tired, but also sad. Just tell me, it will help to get it off your chest."

"I said no," she repeated sternly.

Harry moved so he was sitting next to her on the couch, in her line of vision, which just caused her to turn her head the other way. He sighed. "Why do you refuse to talk about your parents? Come on, it's me. You can tell me whatever it is."

"I just don't want to talk about them, okay? Do you want to talk about your parents?"

Harry's eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. Hermione swore and dropped her head in her hands. "Shit."

Harry was about to place a comforting hand on her arm when she bolted up and ran for her room. "I need a second," she muttered before slamming the door behind her.

Hermione went straight to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, then took a moment to study her reflection. No wonder Harry had known something was wrong as soon as he'd seen her. Her eyes were puffy from crying with deep blue bags underneath. Even her complexion looked off, paler than usual. She was sure there would be no comments about her looking beautiful today.

Hermione wiped her face with a towel and sighed, then winced as she recalled what she'd just said to Harry about his parents. She swore again. She shouldn't have snapped at him. He was just trying to help.

When she returned to the main room, he was sitting on the couch. He had his elbows propped on his knees and his forehead was resting against the side of his hands, which were tented together. He looked up as soon as she entered the room.

"I'm sorry, Harry. That was awful. As you can see, I'm in a terrible mood. I'll be fine though; I just want to be alone right now."

He cocked his head and looked at her thoughtfully, then stood up and disappeared into her kitchen. She sighed and followed him, surprised to find him rummaging around in her fridge. "What are you doing?" she asked, coming up behind him.

"Seeing what I can make for dinner out of this stuff. Uh...sandwiches, maybe a simple stew...really simple," he added under his breath. "Oh, breakfast. I can make that. How do omelets sound?"

She crossed her arms and sighed, leaning her hip against the counter. "I'm seriously asking you to leave, Harry." She was getting annoyed now but was trying to keep her rising anger in check.

He turned and nodded at her. "I know. And I'm seriously saying no. You can go lock yourself in your room, but I'm staying."

She set her jaw and gave him her most withering glare, but he just shrugged and turned back to the fridge. She grew angrier when he started taking things out and placing them on her counter.

"I think I'll do just that," she announced.

He shrugged again without turning around. "Okay."

Hermione huffed and went to get her book, then yelled "Fine!" before slamming her bedroom door.

"I'm going to take that as a yes to omelets," Harry said under his breath as he searched around for a pan.

That was how these two came to be eating dinner in such an unusual position. Hermione was inside her bedroom, sitting on the floor with her back against the closed door. Her legs were stretched out in front of her and she had her plate on her lap.

Harry was mirroring this position on the other side of the door. It was actually very cute, though neither of them could tell from their perspective.

After preparing their dinner, Harry had shrunk her plate and slipped it under the door, then repeated a sentence she had said to him months before, on his own birthday. "You know when you're sad, and alone at your flat - you don't have to do that."

He'd heard her get out of bed, then saw the light coming from the crack under the door darken as she bent down to pick up her plate. She'd let out a long sigh before saying, "I hate you, Harry James Potter."

He'd sat on the floor and started eating, making the sound of the utensils hitting his plate louder than normal, so she'd be sure to hear and would know what he was doing. After chewing and swallowing his first bite, he'd responded.

"We both know you don't hate me, Hermione Jean Granger. You just hate losing, and you have to admit, that was a solid full-circle argument, was it not?"

She'd sighed, then he'd heard the sound of her fork on her plate and smiled to himself as he took his second bite of food.

After a few moments of eating in silence, she'd asked about his day and a few moments after that, they were back to their normal selves. It was the same as always, except for the fact that they were sitting on the floor, talking through a closed door.

"I've been meaning to ask you," she said as she set her empty plate to the side, "how's Kreacher?"

"Why? Do you have some hats for him?"

She rolled her eyes and even though he couldn't see, he was picturing her doing just that. "I was just wondering how he was. I haven't seen him in ages."

"Last I checked, he's still wearing that locket and running the kitchens at Hogwarts. I think he's liking ordering other elves around. McGonagall says he has a knack for leadership."

"He was also a really good cook, so the kitchens are a great place for him."

"Yeah, not so good with the cleaning."

She laughed. "No, not really."

"When I call him to Grimmauld Place every few months, just to check in, he's appalled by the state of the house. The last time, I offered to blindfold him so he wouldn't have to see it. He was grateful and asked permission to be blindfolded every time he was called to Grimmauld Place."

Hermione laughed again. "I can see that. He was oddly attached to that daunting, dark wizard vibe, and probably takes personal offense to each renovation you do to make the house seem lighter and more inviting."

"Yeah."

"I think Sirius would be happy, seeing how thoroughly you've managed to defile his ancestral home."

Harry nodded and the ache in his heart that always came when he thought of Sirius returned. But he still smiled, because Hermione was right, and he could clearly picture Sirius's reaction at seeing the nearly unrecognizable rooms. "Yeah. He'd have loved it."

Harry felt something on his leg and looked down to see Hermione's fingers poking out from under the door. He shifted and placed his hand on top of hers, smiling inwardly. Even though she was hurting and determined to remain on the other side of that door, she couldn't help but comfort Harry. Damn, she was amazing.

"You need to do your bedroom next," she insisted. "When I was in there rummaging around for your invisibility cloak, it was so dark and depressing. It's really at odds with the rooms you've fixed up downstairs."

"Yeah, I'll get there, but it's not high on my priority list. My eyes are closed for about 90% of the time I spend there."

"Hmm, solid point. Then what room is next?"

"The kitchen. But I've been putting it off since it's a bit daunting. It won't be as easy as applying a new coat of paint and replacing some windows and light fixtures. I have to consider the appliances, cabinets, sink, and all that."

"How does it work? I guess I've never thought of home renovations in the magical world before. Painting, for instance. I assume you can't just apply a color changing charm to the wall, since it would fade in a few days."

"Yeah," he shifted, pulling his legs up to his chest. She took her hand back under the door. He was a little sad to see it go and wished she'd just open the door but didn't want to press his luck by asking her to.

"There's a more complicated version of the color changing charm you can use to permanently change the color of a wall or a piece of furniture," he explained. "I looked into it when I first started fixing up the house, but at the time I was busy with Auror training and the last thing I wanted to do when I got home was learn even more spells. So I took the easy way out."

"What's that?"

"They sell these kits that do the spell for you. You have to apply this mist to the walls with a Spraying Charm, then choose your color. It takes about an hour or two."

"Why doesn't everyone just use those kits?"

"They're kind of expensive."

Hermione looked over at the scarf he'd given her, which was lying on the foot of her bed. She hadn't had a chance to find the store that sold them so she could check the cost, but something told her she didn't want to know. "I forget sometimes you have all this family money."

Harry let out a laugh. "Are you thinking of turning this 'on again, off again' relationship back on? I know how attracted you are to rich blokes."

"Hah!" she said sarcastically. "I've already been someone's beard once this month, and that's my limit. You'll have to wait until next month if you want to use me for that."

"You can't see it right now, but I'm flipping you off."

That made Hermione laugh and soon Harry joined in. Then the conversation died for a bit, and they were quiet. A few moments later, Harry nearly fell backward when the door he'd been leaning against opened.

He turned around to find Hermione kneeling in the doorway. "Hi," she said in a small voice.

"Hi."

She crawled forward on her knees and when she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely, burying her face in his neck. Her first thought was that he smelled good. That unique mix of forests, and rain, and magic that she always associated with Harry.

Her second thought was that she really ought to apologize, then thank him for staying, and also tell him how much it meant to her that he was here, even after she'd yelled at him and locked herself in her room.

Her third thought was that she didn't have to say any of that, because this was Harry, and he just knew.

And her fourth and final thought, before she turned her brain off and just let herself enjoy the embrace, was that she loved how they could say so much to each other without words, and would try not to take that feeling for granted, like she did at times.

As soon as Hermione hugged Harry, he wrapped his arms around her back and let out a long sigh of relief. He hadn't known if staying while she'd kept trying to get him to leave was the right thing, but knew now it had been. It was clear she'd needed him here and it was nice to be the one helping her for a change, as it was usually the other way around.

He noted the floral scent of her hair, which was stronger than normal, and figured it was because it was Wednesday, and she'd just washed it this morning. Damn, he'd missed her. He hadn't noticed how much until just now. He was glad to have her back in town, but wished her return hadn't been so sad, especially since it was her birthday.

The hug lasted for longer than normal for two friends, but not as long as either of them would have liked. It was Hermione who pulled away first. When she leaned back and sat on her heels, Harry asked her, "Do you want to talk about your parents, now?"

"Not now," she said slowly.

"Okay." Harry gathered their dirty plates before standing up and offering his free hand to Hermione. He helped her to her feet, then turned to take the plates to the kitchen.

"Harry?" Hermione asked when he was at the end of the hall.

"Yeah?"

"You can keep asking, though. I might change my mind later."

"Do you promise not to bite my head off, next time?"

"No."

He smiled and shook his head as he turned back to the kitchen.

October 2001

It was the week before Halloween and Harry and Hermione were at Grimmauld Place, putting together cabinets in the empty Parlor upstairs. Hermione had insisted on helping Harry with the kitchen renovations, pointing out they'd both benefit, since they cooked there together every week. She was also intrigued by the magic involved in home renovations and was eager to try her hand at that painting spell Harry had found too complicated to learn.

Hermione was currently casting the spell that assembled the pile of wood into the shape of a cabinet, following a pattern that had come in the box. Once each cabinet was constructed, she applied a temporary sticking charm before passing it on to Harry, who was applying permanent sticking charms at every joint.

They shrunk each cabinet they finished and later, would take them into the kitchen, attach them in place, then paint them. They estimated that the cabinet project alone would take several weeks but reasoned that with the weather turning wet and cold, there wasn't much else to do with their free time.

"I have to go to Malfoy Manor, this week," Harry announced with a sigh. He finished the cabinet he was currently working on, shrunk it, and levitated it to the other side of the Parlor, next to the other cabinets they'd constructed so far.

Harry's back was aching from bending over so much. He stretched his hands over his head, then laid on the rug on his back, folding his arms and propping his head on his hands.

It took Hermione a moment to register Harry's words, since the construction spell required a lot of concentration. She paused with her wand in the air and put it down quickly, turning to Harry.

"Why?" Just the thought of Malfoy Manor made her shiver. She thought of her gold scarf that was draped over the sofa downstairs and considered Summoning it.

When Hermione saw that Harry was taking a break, she decided to join him. She laid next to him on her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows.

"Malfoy called the meeting," Harry continued. "I think it's about the dark artifacts in their home. They're trying to make a big show out of dismantling them."

"Do you think they're sincere? Or that they're just doing this to make people think they're reformed?" she asked.

"I don't know." Harry paused to smirk before asking, "What does your gay boyfriend say about them?"

She moved to hit his shoulder, but he caught her wrist first, so she stuck her tongue out at him instead.

"How are you lying like that?" Harry asked, suddenly taking in Hermione's posture. "If I did that it would kill my back."

She shrugged. "I don't know. I've always been flexible."

Shit, that was hot. Harry's body tensed and his heart started beating faster in his chest.

What?! No it wasn't! This is Hermione! Harry placed his glasses on his chest and tossed an arm over his face as he tried to regain control of his thoughts (and body).

What the hell is wrong with you? You are not allowed to think about her like that. This is Hermione, your best friend, not just some witch you fantasize about because it's been too long since you've had a shag.

All of a sudden, her familiar floral scent hit his nostrils and he felt a tickling on his arm.

Hermione was leaning toward him and her hair was brushing against his elbow. "Harry?"

"Uh, yeah?" His traitorous voice cracked.

"Are you okay?"

Harry nodded since he didn't trust his voice. Once she shifted back away from him, he took a deep breath and said as evenly as he could, "What were we just saying? Uh, before…?" Before you said something mildly suggestive and I completely lost my mind.

"Malfoy," she provided, very confused about what she'd just missed. Maybe Harry had had a flashback from that night at Malfoy Manor. "You asked me what Theo thought of them, and the answer is that I don't know, they haven't really come up."

Harry clung to the new string of conversation. Anything to get his brain off of Hermione's flexibility, and the lovely smell of her hair, and how her eyes brightened when-

Seriously, stop!

He forced his brain to focus on Draco Malfoy. That was a sure-fire way to stop arousing thoughts. He took another deep breath before responding.

"Honestly, I think Draco is sincere. I don't think Lucius is, though. And every time I see them together, I can tell there's a lot of tension between them."

They were quiet for several minutes. Harry was finally back to normal and put his glasses back on, then turned to look at Hermione. She was still propped up on her elbows, chewing her lip, and was lost in thought. When she noticed Harry watching her, she gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"Are you worried?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah." He turned onto his side to face Hermione, then started tracing his index finger along the faint scars still visible on her forearm from Bellatrix's knife. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"It wasn't your fault," she said, watching his hand move along her arm.

"I'm still sorry it happened."

"Yeah. Me too."

Hermione's mind was trying to pull her back to that day, but she was working hard to fight it. She squeezed her hands into fists and focused on the pain of her nails digging into her palms.

Harry stopped rubbing her arm and placed a hand over one of her clenched fists. "Sorry - I didn't mean to dredge all that up. Let's talk about something else. Or just - go do something else."

Hermione nodded, then leaned her head forward, resting her forehead against Harry's hand.

"Hermione?"

She focused on the feeling of her head on Harry's knuckles and the hard floor against her stomach. Bellatrix was dead. Hermione was here, at Grimmauld Place, with Harry, not there. She was safe.

Hermione took one final breath, then turned onto her side and pulled herself to a sitting position.

Harry sat up quickly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Are you okay?"

She forced a smile on her face and nodded. "I'm a little envious, if I'm being honest."

"Of what?"

"Maybe by going back there, you'll be able to face what happened, then put it behind you once and for all. For me, it's all just a giant, unresolved mess."

Harry cocked his head in confusion. "You want to go to Malfoy Manor?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't think I'm ready. But if I were, how would I even go about that? Just owl Draco Malfoy?" She let out a forced laugh.

"I can ask him while I'm there," Harry offered. "He owes me several favors."

"No. I'm not ready. Just - tell me how you handle it - okay?" She got to her feet, then shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm going to get my scarf. Do you need anything from downstairs?"

Harry shook his head and watched her disappear into the hall. As soon as she was gone, he let out a sigh. He wasn't as hopeful as Hermione was about his trip to the Manor. Just thinking about that awful place caused her screams from that night to echo through his mind. And the terror that had overtaken him - when he'd been sure they'd reached the end and were all going to die - he'd never forget that feeling.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, hard. He didn't know which was worse, thinking inappropriate thoughts about Hermione or reliving scenes from her torture. Damn. He really should have tried harder to learn Occlumency.

A few days later, Harry was interrupted by the appearance of someone at his desk. He looked up to find Ron and didn't hesitate before putting the case report he'd been reviewing aside. He was glad for the distraction, since he hated case reports, all the Aurors did. Wizards who loved writing reports didn't tend to become Aurors. They usually joined other departments, like Hermione's.

"Nervous?" Ron asked, leaning against the desk and gripping the edges.

Harry nodded. He knew Ron was talking about his trip to Malfoy Manor, which was happening in...he leaned over to look at the clock on his desk...any minute now.

"Are you going to be okay?" Ron was saying in a low voice. "Do you need me to go with you?" Ron's eyes were wide with concern. Harry was touched by the offer, but also embarrassed.

He knew Ron was thinking of that first year after the war, when they'd lived together at Grimmauld Place. Harry had been having panic attacks and awful nightmares (which still hadn't completely gone away) several times a week.

Ron had been with Harry through it all, as he struggled to get his thoughts and emotions under control. They never referred to that time directly, and even when it came up indirectly, like now, it was always awkward.

Harry shrugged. "I think it will be fine."

Ron raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really, you don't need to come. I'm going with Dawlish, as soon as he's finished with his interrogation, so I won't be alone."

Ron nodded, looking like he didn't completely believe Harry, but he also looked a little relieved that he didn't have to go to Malfoy Manor today.

Harry's mind began pulling him back to that day.

Ron was pounding on the walls of the dungeon, half-sobbing as Hermione's screams echoed off the walls upstairs. Harry was fumbling through his pockets, frantic for anything that could get them out of this. He was the reason they were here. He was the reason Hermione was in pain. They'd been following him and he'd led them-

Harry dug fingers into his temples and took a few deep breaths, in and out. When he was finally fully back in the present, he looked up and found Ron frowning at him. When he locked eyes with Harry, he gave him a small smile. "You good?"

Harry nodded and conjured himself a glass of water. He downed it in one gulp then, reaching for anything else to talk about, asked, "What's going on with you? We haven't been assigned to any stake-outs together, so I feel like I haven't talked to you alone in ages."

Ron jumped up to sit on the edge of the desk he'd been leaning against. "I was just thinking that we should hang out, the three of us. I feel like I see Hermione even less than I see you. I know we broke up, but I still want to be her friend. You know?"

"Yeah. I get that."

"Do you and Ginny ever hang out?"

Harry thought about it. "No…not alone, but I see her every weekend at the Burrow, and sometimes outside of that and we catch up then. Maybe you feel more distant from Hermione, since, even when you are together in a group, Lucy is there, sort of putting a wedge between the two of you."

Ron nodded. That was probably true. He'd never tried pulling Hermione aside at events like that, but he was sure Lucy would have some sort of problem with it and didn't want to risk it.

"How's that going? Lucy?" Harry asked.

Ron let out a large sigh before saying, "Good."

Ron was staring off in the distance and Harry could tell his mind was elsewhere. He reached his leg out and gently kicked Ron's shin to get his attention. "You dated her for fun, yeah?"

Ron nodded.

"Well, it doesn't sound like you're having fun anymore."

Ron pulled his hands up and pressed his palms into his eyes. "I hear you, really, I do. I just - I don't even know what I want anymore."

"Yeah. Me neither," Harry admitted.

The boys were silent for several moments, then Harry turned his head toward Ron. "I've been meaning to ask you about Hermione."

"What about? You know her better than anyone these days," he said a little bitterly.

Harry ignored the comment. He stood up to make sure there was no one in desks around him, but most people were out at lunch. "It's about her parents," he said when he sat back down.

"Oh," Ron scowled. "Was she pretty depressed after her trip to Australia?"

"Yeah, she was. But she refused to talk about it. You've been there with her, what are they like? Why is it so bad?"

Ron shook his head. "That's the thing. They're not mean or doing anything wrong. They're just - scared of her. They flinch anytime she reaches in her pocket, even though she stopped doing magic around them last year. Even when she gave them loads of warning before performing a spell, she could tell how uncomfortable it made them.

"And besides all that, they're just, stiff around each other. Like - overly polite. She said before, they used to talk about everything and have these long discussions about books and politics and the news. But that's all gone now."

"And it's all because they're mad at her for wiping their memories?" Harry asked.

"It's a little more than that," Ron explained. "That's the tricky part, since I understand completely where they're coming from, and so does she, so you can't be angry with them. She didn't just take their memories, but she forced them to do something completely against their will. And also, she wasn't telling them about the dangers at Hogwarts - like the whole Chamber of Secrets thing and the trip to the Department of Mysteries - since she was worried they wouldn't let her go back."

Harry swore. "I didn't realize she was keeping that from them."

"Makes sense though, right?"

"Yeah, I guess it does."

"Anyway, there are good reasons for their relationship to be strained, but that doesn't make it any better. There's a lot of love there, and I think with time it'll improve, but it will never be what it was. I don't think Hermione has come to terms with that. She's still clinging to the hope that she can get back what they lost, but I think she just needs to mourn it and try to move on."

"Huh," Harry said heavily. Sometimes, Ron exhibited moments like this, of extreme maturity, and Harry was reminded that he'd come such a long way since school. It always felt a bit uncomfortable since Harry didn't think he himself had come as far.

"Anyway, let's make plans, yeah? Just the three of us?" Ron asked, ready to move on to lighter topics of conversation.

"Sure. What do you want to do?"

"Do you still go to lunch at that Indian Restaurant every week?"

"Yeah, but you don't like Indian food," Harry pointed out.

"Any chance you can be convinced to change the location?"

Harry shook his head. He and Hermione had been going there for years, and by this point, it would feel weird with Ron there. "Let's just meet for dinner one night."

"Yeah, you two cook every week on Tuesdays, or was it Wednesdays? Either works for me."

"Oh, uh-" Harry hadn't meant for Ron to come to Grimmauld Place on those nights. Those were for just him and Hermione. "You'll have to cook, and you hate cooking. Let's just pick another night and go out. Maybe Friday or something."

"I have plans with Lucy, Friday." Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry. "You're oddly protective of your standing dates with Hermione."

"No I'm not. I just don't want you complaining the whole time."

Ron watched him for another moment, then shrugged. "It's not like I'm upset or anything, I sort of owe you for that," he said under his breath.

"What?" Harry couldn't make any sense of that comment.

Ron lifted his head to make sure they were still alone, before saying in a low voice, "Okay, this is one of those thoughts I have that makes me an awful person, so I'll only tell you, because I know you won't judge me."

"Yeah, I'm familiar with those types of thoughts. What is it?"

"I know I was the one to date first, but once Hermione starts dating again, I'm going to lose my shit. Like - not on her or anything, just - it'll hurt."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I mean, that's hypocritical as hell, but you know that. I get it, though." Harry knew he wasn't in any place to judge because (as evidenced from his actions at the Ministry Gala) he was also going to lose his shit when Hermione started dating again.

"Where do I come into this?" he asked Ron. Still confused about why Ron said he owed him.

"Since you're with her all the time, everyone's convinced you're dating. It's keeping other blokes from asking her out."

"It is?"

"Yeah, Carter told me."

"But she went to the Gala with Nott, so people saw that we aren't dating."

Ron shrugged. "That was almost two months ago now, and you two always seem to be together. I don't know what story they've made up about it, since I don't read that crap, but everyone thinks you're together. I even had a reporter ask for my thoughts on it last week."

Wizards were refraining from asking Hermione out because of Harry? He wasn't sure how he felt about that. A little relieved (not because he liked her, of course, just because he'd miss her if she got a new boyfriend), but he also felt guilty, since he'd been inadvertently keeping her from moving on.

Ron was watching him carefully again. "What do you and Hermione do when you hang out?"

Harry shrugged. "Cook, watch the telly…last weekend we put together new cabinets for my kitchen. Nothing thrilling."

"You sound like a married couple." Ron studied Harry's reaction, curious to see how he'd respond to the accusation, but there was nothing alarming there. Harry just shrugged again and waved dismissively.

"That makes sense. A married couple without the shagging and stuff are just best friends, right?"

Ron was quiet for a moment, considering, then nodded. "So, she's your best friend now, not me?" he asked with a mock tone of offense.

"Whose fault is that?" Harry retorted.

Ron sighed. "I know. I'm going to try to get more time away from Lucy, honest. It's been a bit much."

Harry nodded. The thought of suddenly spending more time with Ron again wasn't as exciting as it should be. And the thought of Ron coming round when it was normally just he and Hermione was even less so. What was wrong with him? He was just in a weird mood because of his impending trip to Malfoy Manor. He'd feel better once that was behind him.

Just then, Dawlish popped his head around the partition. "Ready, Potter?"

Harry jumped up. "Uh, yeah, right behind you."

Dawlish turned and went to get his robes from his desk as Ron stood and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Don't try to be a hero, Harry. If things go south after this, send a Patronus, okay?"

Harry nodded and gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Ron."

A/N: I know this is going a bit slow, but I wanted to set up a few more themes before moving the plot along. Thanks for bearing with me. This is my last exposition chapter, then the real fun starts! Also, this is going to be way longer than I originally thought. Oh well. I'm here for it if you all are.

Special thanks to my beta reader, Lancashire Witch. She always reads my drafts super quickly and gives me the loveliest words of encouragement whenever I'm feeling meh about my writing. Thanks, Carol!