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Come Find Me
joerandom
Story Idea Started: 26 March 2018, Completed: 7 August, 2021
SUMMARY: In the summer after 5th year, Hermione is targeted by Death Eaters. One dies and she ends up banished; expelled from Hogwarts, her magic bound, she and her parents are obliviated. Now the Death Eater's are out for her blood, but she doesn't even know they are coming. And Harry finally comes to realise what she means to him. The beginning of a very new journey. AU H/Hr
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; I'm only visiting this universe.
CHARACTERS: Harry P, Hermione G, Remus L
CATEGORY: Romance/Adventure
RATING: T (PG-13?)
SIZE: 163,916 words, 14 Chapters.
VERSION: 1.0
AUTHOR: joerandom fanfiction dot net
STORY IDEA STARTED: 26 March 2018
STORY COMPLETED: 7 August, 2021
CHAPTER POSTING SCHEDULE: One chapter every Friday at 18:00UTC and Every Tuesday at 06:00UTC.
EXPECTED FIRST POSTING: 31 August, 2021
CHAPTER POSTED: 31 August, 2021
CHAPTER SIZE: 14137 words
SCHEDULED FINAL POSTING DATE: 15 September, 2021
AUTHORS NOTES: This story is about Harry realising how important Hermione is to him (because he loses her) and him repaying her for all her help over the years, all of her belief in him, all her love for him. A story of devotion, of selflessness, of dedication. A story about giving your life; not in a singular act of heroic glory, but the rest of your life, one ordinary minute after another, every minute you have left. And then some, if you can.
Also, I'm not British. So I don't have an intimate knowledge of British Higher Education. I'm guessing. So don't shoot the author for a little guessing and hand-waving on a limited budget.
Also, I do not intend to bash Dumbledore, but he doesn't come off very well in this tale. A very damaged character who desperately tries but never manages to rise above his issues. Similarly with Ron.
Please note that this is intended to be more of a Romance novel than an Adventure novel. Thus the action may be subdued in relation to my other stories. Maybe. Possibly.
TYPOGRAPHY: Punctuation within quotes is meant to be lyrical rather than grammatical; e.g. a "," is a pause at the end of a spoken phrase, a "–" is a longer pause in someone's thinking or an interruption of someone's phrase, and a "..." is the unintended end of someone's sentence.
Chapter 1
Harry's Rescue
Harry Potter
Sunday, 14 July, 1996
Harry sighed, realising he'd woken up, and wishing he hadn't. He laid there, breathing his exhaustion, feeling the weight of his arms. His mind wandered toward a desire for a calm day –
"Sirius! NO!" Sirius fell backwards, surprise on his face as he fell toward ...
Crushing weight landed on Harry again, as he relived watching Sirius die again. His chest hurt, his throat threatened to close up. He rolled over to avoid thinking.
He could barely breathe. Sleep was his best escape from his guilt – if he could only stay asleep ...
The first lock on the door clicked open. Harry woke up the rest of the way – another lock clicked – he jumped out of bed. Another lock clicked. Harry stepped back from the door as the final lock clicked and the door burst open.
"Boy! Get down there and start breakfast." Uncle Vernon filled the door, face purple, a mask of hatred and anger.
Harry stood defensively, ready to move, looking angrily at Vernon's third button down on his shirt.
Neither breathed, the tension arcing between them.
Slowly, Vernon started to move out of the door and back towards his room.
Harry took that opportunity to move to the loo. If he wanted to preserve any peace, any control over his own life, he needed to move fast. Faster than Vernon. Self-preservation took over. It was the easiest way to keep things stable. Harry got down to the kitchen and had breakfast started and was working on setting the table in ten minutes.
In a little less than an hour breakfast was done, Vernon was gone, Dudley was gone, and Harry had moved out to the back garden to start tending the plants. It was his only escape from the Dursley's.
But not from his memories. He kept seeing the flash of spells. Sirius falling through the Veil. Ron being attacked by those brain-things. Ginny's broken ankle. Hermione falling after being hit by Dolohov's spell. His face burned with the guilt of Sirius falling. And of Hermione being injured. Particularly since she was right, it had been a trap. And still she came with him. And he hadn't listened to her.
He angrily pulled up another weed and tore it to pieces. But his anger only reminded him of his attack on Belatrix, on his pitiful attempt to use the Cruciatus Curse on her. His guilt burned. He closed his eyes tightly, but it didn't make the memories go away.
Hermione Granger
Hermione stirred and started to take a deep breath as she woke up, but quickly stopped as the long purple scar that ran from her shoulder across to her opposite hip pulled painfully. The lasting result of the battle in the Ministry building at the end of fifth year. Her mother softly walked into her room and sat in Hermione's favourite reading chair, a rocking chair, next to her bed.
Emma's face was full of concern, "Are you feeling better this morning?"
Hermione smiled a small smile and nodded, "A bit. It's slow, like the healers said."
Emma tried to smile, "And here I thought magic was supposed to be so much faster in healing."
Hermione tried to smile too, but it was still rather pained, "Yes, except when magic does the damage. Then it seems slower than even normal healing."
Emma paused for a moment, "What would you like for breakfast this morning?"
Hermione thought, but what she really thought about was Harry. Her heart broke at thinking about what she knew Harry was doing to himself; namely, kicking himself for all the trouble he caused, and his impulsive actions, and Sirius dying, and ...
"Any ideas?" Emma interrupted her thoughts.
Hermione focussed back on her mum, "I'd like to try getting up and being at least somewhat normal today."
Emma looked concerned, "Are you sure? It won't strain you?"
Hermione shrugged, "I won't know until I try. Eggs?"
Emma stood up, "Yes, but don't think you're going to try those stairs by yourself."
Hermione slowly, painfully sat up, with her legs over the side of the bed, puffing a bit by the time she was sitting up.
Emma held out her hands ready to catch Hermione as she leaned forward and started to stand up. "You don't look to be ready for this. Are you sure?"
Hermione held out her hands and stood up fully, stretching a bit, and gave her mum a very determined look, "Yes, I must."
Emma rolled her eyes lightly and took Hermione's hand, "Ok, let's see how far we get. Your Dad can carry you back upstairs if you get stuck down there."
Hermione's eyes softened and looked more determined at the same time, "I'll just live on the couch."
Emma didn't look convinced, "Mmmm." She lead her out into the hall, stopping at the top of the stairs, "Very slowly. One step at a time."
Hermione held on to Emma's hand and the stair railing as she stepped one foot down, then brought the other beside it. Hermione felt invigorated at this seeming normal activity. But she was really starting to feel it by the time she stepped off the stairs onto the floor. The walk to the kitchen table was fine, but sitting down took a bit of negotiation with her scar as it pulled and strained with her movements. It left her puffing, sitting in the chair.
"You said eggs?" Emma moved toward the stove to start cooking.
"Yes. – Mum? I'm very worried about Harry."
Emma glanced to Hermione as she pulled out a pan, "Yes? He wasn't injured, was he?"
"Not physically, no."
"So, then what's to worry about?" She didn't sound sympathetic as she pulled out a carton of eggs.
Hermione winced at her mum's tone, "Mum, you know Harry's living situation is – not good."
Emma was cracking eggs into a bowl, "Yes, you've mentioned that before."
Hermione's stress rushed out with the words, "Harry was so hoping that he could live with his Godfather – with someone that cared for him – with – what amounted to a real family – and now Sirius has died. Leaving Harry with no one – except those monsters."
Emma turned to Hermione, a hollow look on her face. "Oh."
"And Harry thinks it's his fault that Sirius died."
Emma winced and turned back toward the bowl of eggs.
"It isn't his fault, but I couldn't get that through his thick skull."
Emma shook her head softly, "Those are intellectual arguments; they won't work on an emotional topic."
"And now, Dumbledore told all of his friends not to send him any mail and not to reply to any mail he sends, he said that Harry needs to 'process' what's happened."
Emma spun back to Hermione, anger pouring out, "What? Dumbledore's put him in 'time-out' or something? That's wrong! That is very wrong! What is he thinking? He doesn't have a degree in psychology! Stupid old man! To isolate Harry at a time like this is completely unhealthy. Yes, you don't push him and try to take him out to a movie every day, but to isolate him is – absolutely stupid." Emma glared at Hermione.
Hermione jumped on her opportunity, "I'd like to ask Harry to come here and help me recover from this – mess."
Emma realised that she had walked right into that one, but didn't mind much. Hermione's points were strong and no one should be crushed like that. "Do you think he will come?"
Hermione smiled, "I know exactly which buttons to push to get him to come over and help." Her smile dropped, "I know he's beating himself up quite thoroughly as it is, all I have to do is apply a touch of guilt aimed in the right direction and he will come and help."
Emma looked at Hermione with concern for a few quiet moments, "Ok." She walked over to pick up the phone and set it down in front of Hermione on the table, "Work your magic and bring him over. If nothing else, I'll at least be able to see what makes this boy tick."
Hermione smiled at her mum, "Thanks, Mum." Her Mum sounded like she would peel Harry open like a ripe fruit, but Hermione knew she really was just concerned for Hermione. She picked up the phone and dialled Harry's number. It took a bit of convincing to bypass Harry's aunt, but all Hermione had to do was suggest that she would 'pop right over' if she couldn't talk to Harry on the phone. Avoiding any magic was Harry's aunt's main point of motivation.
Harry was breathless and desperate sounding, "Hello?"
"Hi Harry."
"Hermione! I haven't gotten any letters and – I sent letters – and I haven't heard anything – but –" He sounded on the edge of a breakdown.
"Harry!"
"Yes?"
Hermione sighed, "Dumbledore told all of us to not contact you and not to reply to any mail you sent us."
His voice dropped like a rock, "Oh."
"I was talking to my parents about that and they said that this is a completely unhealthy approach to your situation. That you should not be left alone after something like this. "
"I don't think Aunt Petunia would let you come over –"
"Harry, I'm still recovering and in no condition to move right now."
Harry coughed and took a moment to respond, "But Dumbledore said I can't leave this house. That I need to be here to charge up the wards."
Her voice flashed angry, "You've done your two weeks in lockup, the wards are now charged."
Harry took a deep breath and pulled out his last card, "Dumbledore won't be happy. I already made him mad enough by trashing his office."
Hermione's voice grew even darker, "Given that Dumbledore's actions are threatening your heath, how much do you think I care about what he thinks at this point? You should not be alone now."
He sighed, and sounded strained, "I – I'm not very sociable right now."
She huffed, "Yes, I know what you're doing to yourself. That's why you shouldn't be left alone." She paused and pulled out her weapon of last resort, "Harry, listen to me. You need to come over here and help me heal from the injuries I received while I was helping you!"
Harry choked. Guilt landed on him, hard. Again. His breathing was almost a whimper.
"Are we clear on your responsibilities?"
He swallowed hard. His voice cracked, "Yes, Hermione."
"Good. When will you be here?"
He took a breath, thinking, "I'll be there in an hour."
"How are you getting here?"
More thinking, "Ah – the Knight Bus?"
"Do you know the address?"
"Ah – no."
"Let me give it to you. Ready?"
The sound of Harry scrabbling for pen and paper, "Yes."
She gave it to him slowly, "Got it?"
"Yes, Hermione."
"Good. Bring all of your things. I'll see you in a bit."
"Yes."
The phone clicked and Hermione sighed heavily. She felt rather harsh pushing him so strongly, but she did not want him to back out.
"He's on his way?" Emma drew Hermione's focus.
Hermione nodded, "He'll be here in about an hour."
"You know your father is going to quiz him on all that's happened."
Hermione nodded, "Yes. It will probably be good for Harry to talk about it. – As long as Dad doesn't beat him up about it. Harry does that well enough all by himself."
Emma looked still and tense, "It was an irresponsible act."
Hermione's eyes flashed, "It was a desperate act! He thought his only family left to him was being tortured and no one was available to ask for help, or even ask what his visions meant. Dumbledore would not talk to him or explain anything all of last year."
Emma became more angry, "Why was Dumbledore not helping Harry?"
Hermione sighed and looked out the window, "He wouldn't say. He just seemed to avoid Harry and all his questions."
Emma looked quite pointedly at Hermione, "Is he not responsible for the students in that school?"
Hermione looked back with growing anger, "Not just the school, Dumbledore is supposed to be Harry's magical guardian! But he certainly isn't acting the part!"
Now Emma was drawing a slow calming breath and turned back to the eggs, pushing them around the pan with more intensity. "I'll call your father to let him know Harry is coming over, so it's not a surprise."
Harry Potter
When Harry hung up the phone he walked immediately to the cupboard under the stairs and opened it. He pulled out his trunk and started up the stairs to his room. Wait! Half-way up the stairs, fear struck him hard!
He had opened the cupboard. It was locked! Wasn't it? How did he do that? Then his brain kicked in gear; his wand was still in his trunk – so it must have been accidental magic? Or – his Aunt had left it unlocked? He stood still on the stairs listening for any noises – like the sounds of owls from the Ministry.
After another moment he sighed deeply and started moving up the stairs again. He was shaken. This whole last few weeks had left him deeply shaken. So much had gone wrong. His life was falling apart. He started packing, barely noticing what he was doing.
Then the thought struck him; how was he going to get away from his minders? The Order was still watching him, weren't they?
Harry peeked out the window of his room to see if he could see any Order member hiding around his house, guarding him. After a moment he noticed a small portion of a shoe poking out from under the shrubbery at the side of the house. It looked like Mundungus Fletcher had fallen asleep again. That made things easy. He started packing his school trunk with everything, as fast as he could.
His stomach still roiled at the tension of what he was doing; going against Dumbledore, sneaking out of Privet Drive very early, sneaking away from the Order. But – he was also – excited. He was going to Hermione's house. Maybe it was just the chance to do something. To focus on something other than his chores – and his swirling, twirling thoughts.
Then he came to an abrupt halt. He was going to Hermione's house. Her parents would be there. His stomach sunk to the floor. They would think him a fool. A fool who involved their daughter in a foolhardy scheme – and injured her. He covered his face with his hands. They were going to kill him. It was all his fault. Hermione had tried to tell him but he wouldn't listen. Even more dirt to cover his grave.
After a few moments, fatalism set in. Was it not justified? Did he not deserve any punishment they would mete out? Hermione was injured, for God's sake! How could he have involved her in his mess? – And – it could have been so much worse. She could have ... she almost ...
He shook his head to clear those thoughts. He could not bear to think about those possibilities. Then he realised he needed to get moving, before Fletcher woke up. Or he would be stuck here and disappoint Hermione.
He dove back into stuffing his trunk full of anything and everything of value in his room, even his secrets below the floorboards. When he was done, and took a last look around his room, he peeked out the window again and saw the bit of shoe still poking out. He grabbed his trunk and moved quickly out of his room, down the stairs, and out the back door. Aunt Petunia was thoroughly involved with one of her shows on the telly and didn't see him sneak by behind her. He moved to the far side of the garden and slid behind the garden shed to the far corner of the garden – and the gate in the fence for the rubbish bins. They let him through into the back alley where he quickly walked to the next street and caught the Knight Bus.
The abject violence of the Knight Bus ride confused his stomach. Was it the ride? Or his impending arrival that caused this huge stone to be lodged inside him?
The Knight Bus came to a stop with a bang. His doom awaited. He stood up and stepped off the bus, lugging his trunk to the drive, in front of a large two story clapboard house with landscaping almost as nice as Privet Drive. Well, at least he can take care of that. That might lessen his punishment.
He almost jumped out of his skin as a large bang signalled the Knight Bus departing the area. He was left with no excuse, no distraction, no escape. He walked up the drive, up the front steps, – and steeled himself for the storm. He rang the bell.
Hermione Granger and Harry Potter
Emma sat up in the chair next to the couch Hermione was laying on, "That must be Harry." She got up and moved toward the door.
Hermione slowly sat up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and looked to the door in anticipation.
Emma Granger opened the door to see Harry standing, his body half turned away, with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, shoulders tense, head hanging down, looking at his shoes. The very picture of dejection. "Oh, Harry." Emma hugged him into the house and noticed that he flinched at the hug. That will take a bit of work to fix.
"Hermione!" Harry noticed her sitting on the couch and came running over and knelt down in front of her, "I'm sorry, I – I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you. –"
She held up her hands to stop his ramble, "Harry!"
He stopped, feeling completely helpless.
She held out her hands, "Harry, help me up."
He stood up and took her hands to help her stand up. She was wearing checked flannel night clothes wrapped in a blanket. He choked as he noticed the huge purple welt on her shoulder peeking out from under her top. His guilt lashed him again. He could barely breathe seeing that horrible reminder.
She stood up slowly, painfully, until she grabbed him in a hug. It was weak, not her normal strength. She looked so frail.
Harry held her and had a hard time maintaining his composure, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
After a moment she leaned back and looked at him closely, "I'm sorry too. About Sirius. About – everything."
Harry took a few deep breaths trying to control himself. It wasn't working very well. He whispered again, "I'm sorry, Hermione."
"Harry, shhh. I need you to help me recover."
"Anything, Hermione. Anything. I'll do anything you need." He struggled to get the words out through his sniffling.
"The Healers say it's going to be a while before I'm back to normal."
Harry grimaced as if she had hit him.
"Harry, you can be a great help for me."
He looked a bit relieved.
She started to wilt and look very tired, "I need you to help me upstairs to my room. I can't make it by myself, Mum can't carry me, and Dad isn't home yet."
He nodded slowly, "Ok – how? Can you – walk?"
She shook her head, "No. Can you carry me?" She started to shake slightly, holding on to him.
Harry imagined trying to carry her upstairs in his arms and was having a hard time imagining he would be successful, "Can I carry you on my back?"
Hermione grimaced at the thought of squishing her scar against his back, "We can try. We just need to be very careful because it might hurt."
Harry sighed, turned away and bent down on one knee, "Ok, I will carry your legs and you try not to lean against me. I will try to not wobble as we go."
Hermione bent down putting her hands on his shoulders and gently, slowly kneeling down as he started to hold her legs. She leaned back to keep from leaning against him.
Harry slowly held her legs to take her weight.
She slowly relaxed as he held her legs and tried to lean away from his back as small hisses of discomfort escaped from her movements.
"Are you ok, Hermione?"
She took a shuddering breath, "I think so. Just go slowly."
He nodded and ever so slowly started to stand up. Once he was standing he asked, "How is this?"
"I think we can do this. Just – slowly." She tiredly leaned her forehead against the back of his neck.
Harry nodded his head against hers as she rested her head on his. He kept his legs bent and started small steps toward the stairs.
Little hisses escaped from Hermione.
Emma followed behind, "I'll be behind you on the stairs."
When they got to the stairs Harry couldn't figure out how he was going to hold the railing, "Hermione, can you hold the railing while we go up?"
She nodded on his shoulder and reached out a hand.
Harry took the steps slowly, one at a time. "I'm sorry," He kept apologising every time Hermione hissed at his steps. Eventually they made it to the top and Hermione pointed to her door over his shoulder. Harry stopped in the doorway and smiled, "Oh, it's so you!" The bookcases, the framed maps on the walls, the large desk workspace.
Hermione chuckled, "Yes, I suppose."
He moved to standing in front of her bed, turned and slowly sat down, depositing her. He stood up and turned to help her lay down.
Hermione was exhausted, "Thank you, Harry."
Emma drew the covers up and started settling her in.
Harry noticed the sun was getting low out the window and his nerves spiked. He faded out of Hermione's room and went downstairs to find the kitchen. He needed to start dinner if it was going to be ready on time, something Aunt Petunia insisted on. He dove into the pantry making lists, planning menu ideas, finding the pots and pans, the utensils.
He was most of the way through a basic dinner when Emma came into the kitchen.
"What are you doing?"
He froze, not breathing.
She evidently noticed, "You didn't have to make dinner –" Then the smell caught her attention, "– what is it? That smells very nice." She leaned over his shoulder and breathed in the aroma. "You know how to cook?"
He relaxed a bit and started moving again. He nodded without looking at her.
He heard a smile in her voice, "I think you're going to spoil me."
Harry hid his own smile, "I think that's my job. It's the least I can do." He paused for a moment, thinking, "Did the healers give any restrictions on Hermione's diet?"
"No. She has some potions to take, and some ointments to apply." She sighed, "It seems that magic is not working very fast on this injury. I don't know what to expect. Hermione said it will likely be completely healed but she said it will not be fast. Do you have any experience with magical healing?"
Harry chuckled, "Yes, a good bit. It's usually at least ten times faster than you would expect for normal medicine."
"Really? Do you have an example?"
He paused, thinking, "Once I fell off my broom and broke my arm badly. Then a professor made a mistake – used the wrong spell – and vanished all the bones in my broken arm."
Emma gasped.
Harry looked at her a bit startled that she would be so concerned, "The school nurse gave me a potion to regrow all the bones in my arm. I was good as new the next morning."
Emma's face was pure shock, "Regrow all your bones? Overnight?"
He grimaced at the memory, "It was – not comfortable. Pain potions would disrupt the process, so – it hurt all night. A lot." He shook his head and turned back to his cooking.
Emma moved to setting the table. "Do you know why this would take so long? And be so debilitating in the process?"
Harry sighed, "Curses are designed to be difficult to heal. The magic resists healing."
Emma sighed and kept working.
When the food was done Harry set the the food on the table, "Go ahead and eat, I'll take a plate up to Hermione." He filled two plates and moved up stairs. He was just about to enter Hermione's room when he heard someone come in the front door. He sighed, as he had probably just gotten out of the way of Hermione's father. Harry walked into Hermione's open door and sat the plates down on her bedside table.
He touched her shoulder to wake her, "Hermione, dinner is here."
Her eyes fluttered open and she mumbled something. "Dinner? Oh. My potions too."
"Where are they?"
She pointed to a set of vials on her desk across her room. "The blue one and the purple-ish one."
He picked them up, looking at the labels, but they were not helpful. He set them next to her plate of food and helped Hermione sit up. He picked up his plate and sat in Hermione's rocking chair to eat.
Hermione pointed her fork at the food, "Mmm. This is good. Did Mum make this?"
He avoided the question with mumbled noises from behind his bite of food, not looking at her.
She caught his diversion and looked at him intently, "Did you cook this?"
He tried to play innocent, like he hadn't heard her, "Hmm?"
She smiled at him, and saw straight through his misdirection. "Thank you, Harry."
Harry tried to smile and nodded. He set his empty plate back on the bedside table and watched Hermione take her potions and continue working on her dinner.
She set the plate down empty, then slowly leaned back into bed, "Harry, will you read to me?"
Harry looked startled, a bit shocked, "Yes. What would you like?"
She pointed at one of her bookcases, "That box set of books, 'The Lord Of the Rings'?"
He moved to the bookcase and picked up the boxed set, "This is rather large."
She smiled, "Yes, they are my favourite. Have you read them?"
He shook his head, "Never heard of them."
She sighed, "Would you?"
He smiled, "Yes. Anything for you." He sat down in the rocking chair and started in. It took him a while to relax into reading out loud. Then he started to enjoy it. After a few chapters he noticed a sound, looked up and found Hermione breathing steadily, asleep.
He sat there, looking at her. She was so peaceful – and – beautiful. He rushed on from that thought. He so wished he could speed up her healing. To see her so – set back, so depressed from her normal energy was difficult. He heard a noise and looked to the door.
Dan and Emma Granger stood in the door looking at Harry with smiles on their faces. Dan motioned for Harry to follow them. They all moved downstairs to the main room where Dan motioned Harry to sit on the couch.
Emma sat in a chair.
Dan sat in the chair across the low table, "Thank you, Harry, for making dinner. And for helping Hermione."
Emma smiled, "It was nice of you to read to her. Those are her favourite books."
Harry was now embarrassed, "Anything for her."
Dan nodded, "Maybe you can tell us the truth about the wizarding world?"
Harry's face dropped, he paled.
Dan continued, "Hermione has been – reluctant to tell us what is really going on and – we want to know how to protect her."
Harry sighed and dropped his head in his hands, "I'm afraid it's too late."
Emma spoke up surprised, "Why?"
Harry could barely hold on to his guilt as it raged about in his head, "It's all my fault." The silence after that statement landed on Harry.
Dan broke the silence, "I thought you stopped the last war, how could all of this be your fault?"
Harry felt his world collapse. He would have to tell them. They deserved to know, regardless of what Dumbledore had told him about keeping things secret. "I – there is a prophesy that –"
Emma looked suspicious, "A prophesy? Those things are real?" She obviously did not believe it.
Harry shrugged, "Dumbledore and Voldemort think so. It – says that – Voldemort and I are locked into a fight to the death. That only I can kill him."
"What!?" Both Dan and Emma chorused together.
Emma caught up first, "Who the bloody hell said that?"
Harry felt a bit better that their anger was not directly pointed at him, "The Divination professor at Hogwarts. She's a fraud most of the time, but she has given a few real prophesies before."
Dan took a deep breath and rubbed his face, "So this – prophesy – how is all this your fault?"
Harry was back to being crushed by his guilt, "Because anyone I am close to is at risk. I just heard about the prophesy a few weeks ago or – I would have not become friends with – anyone. But now – everyone I know is in danger from Voldemort because they know me. It's too late to change it or – I would have left a long time ago, if I'd known. The only thing I can do now is to defend my friends."
Dan looked angry, but somehow not at Harry, "We'll talk to Dumbledore –"
"Please don't."
Dan and Emma looked confused.
Harry continued, "I – when Dumbledore told me about the prophesy after the – fight at the Ministry – I got angry and – completely trashed his office. And – he told me not to tell anyone about this mess. He might – do something to you if he found out I told you."
Dan sat up and looked very angry, "And what would he likely do?"
Harry's head dropped, "He would likely obliviate you – take away your memories of what I've told you."
Dan growled and stood up. He started pacing. "Evil bastard."
Emma whispered, "I knew he was bad news. Just too slick and had too many nice meaningless answers."
Dan came back and sat down, "What are you planning on doing?"
Harry shook his head, "I have no idea. Dumbledore isn't talking to me any more. He won't answer any of my questions."
Dan huffed, "Sounds like you should return the favour. Refuse to talk to him for a while. Do you have ideas on how we can protect Hermione?"
Harry looked hollow, "Run. Take her away from here as fast and as far as you can."
Emma sighed, "Well – we'll think about it."
Harry looked at her perplexed.
Dan glanced at his watch, "It's getting late. You must be tired."
Harry nodded and tried to stifle a yawn.
Dan smiled knowingly, "Come on, I'll show you to the guest room."
Harry followed him up the stairs. lugging his trunk, to the a room across the hall from Hermione's door.
Dan stopped at the door, "Harry, how much of all this is actually under your control?"
Harry stood and thought, and with each point he ticked off in his mind, he began to relax, "Well, not much."
Dan nodded slowly, "Think about what is and isn't, then we'll talk about what we can do to change some of that tomorrow."
Harry nodded, "Thank you – for not being angry with me."
Dan looked confused, "Why would I be angry with you?"
Harry's head dropped, "For getting Hermione injured, for endangering her, for –"
"Harry –" Dan put his hand on Harry's shoulder and turned him to look in his eyes, "Harry, you are the closest friend Hermione has ever had. You have brought so much good to her life –" He just shrugged, "I wish the danger wasn't there – and all this magic business that seems so messed up. But I can't deny all the good that you've brought to her life as well. That means a lot to me. We will help you."
Harry was having a very difficult time maintaining some control, and an even harder time when Dan hugged him.
"Good night, Harry."
Monday, 15 July, 1996
Harry woke up with a start, and a shot of fear. Breakfast! He had to get breakfast started or it would be late. He jumped up and started moving. Then he noticed that it was still rather dark outside. He looked at the clock; it was a little too early.
Then he got an idea, and a smile. Muffins! He started moving again. Washed, dressed, down to the kitchen, and searching the food stores for any muffin or cake mixes. Found one! He checked the other ingredients. Got them all. He started pre-heating the oven and dove in.
When his muffin batch went into the oven he started on the normal Full English breakfast. Within minutes the smell of the muffins and the sausage was starting to fill the house.
Very soon Emma came into the kitchen breathing deeply, "Oh, my goodness, what a smell! Do you do this often? Torture everyone in the neighbourhood with baking smells?" She peeked into the oven, smelling deeply, "Oh wow." She straightened up and grinned as she pointed an accusing finger at him, "You are a threat to my waistline."
Harry started chuckling.
Dan came in following his nose, "Oh that smells good!"
Emma started moving toward the door, "I'll go check on Hermione. She'll be going crazy smelling this and not being able to come down."
Harry started dispensing muffins, two plates and glasses on a tray, "Go ahead and get started, I'll take this to Hermione." He left Dan to struggle with his self-control. He arrived at Hermione's closed door with his hands full. He leaned in and spoke to the door, "Hermione. Are you ready for breakfast?"
The door opened to Emma looking hungrily at the plates. She stepped back, "Hermione, you are a very lucky girl."
Harry stepped in and set the tray down on the table next to the bed.
Hermione was sitting up and sniffing, "Harry! What did you do?"
Harry held up a muffin, wiggling it between his fingers, "I got a wild idea." He sat down in the rocking chair with his plate and started in, "You don't want any? I'm sure your Mum would like yours."
Hermione snorted at him, and grabbed for her plate, "No, I think I can handle this."
Emma sighed, "Ok, I think it's time for mine."
Harry gave her a look, "If there's any left ..."
Emma made a surprised noise and moved down the hall in a hurry.
Hermione started chuckling, "Harry." She shook her head fondly.
"How are you feeling today?"
Hermione paused, "Still feel weak." She looked concerned.
"Is the – scar looking better?"
She nodded, "The horrible colour is starting to fade and it's getting smaller – even if it doesn't look much like it yet." She finished her plate and set it down. "Would you read to me again?"
Harry smiled, got up and retrieved the book and backed up a chapter before he started in. Within three more chapters he heard Hermione's breathing even out as she fell asleep. He looked at her, so peaceful, so beautiful, so – Hermione.
He marked the book, got up, and headed to the back garden to find the gardening tools. He found them and started in on the roses and the shrubs along the front of the house. A little pruning and cleaning the beds of weeds. He moved to the back garden and cleaned more beds. He stopped when it was getting close to lunch.
He started next on cleaning the kitchen from breakfast, then started making sandwiches for lunch. He left most of them on the kitchen table and took a few up to Hermione's room. She was still asleep so he sat in the reading chair and started reading ahead in Hermione's book.
Another three chapters later and Hermione started to stir. He watched her breathe. She started to wake up as her stomach growled. She turned and opened her eyes, saw Harry, saw the sandwiches, and breathed deep, "Harry, you brought lunch."
Harry smiled, "It is that time of day."
She looked confused, "It is?" She looked toward her clock.
Harry's smile grew, "You fell asleep while I was reading."
She looked sad, "I'm sorry. I'm not being very sociable, falling asleep on you."
"You definitely needed the rest. I was reading ahead." He lifted the book to show her.
She smiled, "Do you like it?"
He nodded, "It's – like nothing I've ever read before."
"You haven't even gotten to the good parts yet." She smiled knowingly as she extended her legs over the side of the bed.
He looked at her with concern, "Do you need help sitting up?"
She shook her head and started to sit up.
Harry moved to help her anyway. When she was upright he held out the plate of sandwiches for her to take one.
She took a bite and looked at him with a touch of surprise, "You made this, didn't you?"
"What makes you say that?"
"It's better than Mum's."
Harry smirked, "Can't be. Who could possibly make anything better than your Mum? It's a basic law of the universe."
Hermione chuckled, "Harry."
He nodded to her seriously, "It's true. It's right up there with Einstein. It's called The Extra-Special Theory ofRelatives, Particularly Mum's."
Hermione broke out into a laugh and shook her head, "Harry."
Harry looked at her incredulously, "What? They didn't teach you about that in Primary? What kind of school did you go to?"
Hermione just kept laughing.
Emma leaned in the doorway with a bit of a bleary look, "It's so good to hear you laugh again, Hermione."
Hermione smiled at her, "Did you see Harry made lunch?" She pointed at the plate of sandwiches.
Emma glanced at the clock, "It's lunchtime already?" She sighed, "I sat still too long and fell asleep. I never do that. Must be the stress."
Harry motioned toward the plate, "Well, sandwiches cure everything so go ahead. There's more downstairs."
Emma raised an eyebrow, "Must be magical sandwiches if they cure everything."
Harry looked mischievous, "Oh, yeah. These cure frowns, grumps, glares, pouts, – even orneriness. They are amazing!"
Hermione's smile was trying to hold back her laugh. She looked to her Mum, "I think they're working."
Emma's smile grew, she pointed to Hermione and the last sandwich, "You eat that one and I'll go find more." She moved downstairs in search of her own cure.
"Thank you, Harry."
Harry smiled, "I can't leave you suffering. I must work my magic. It's part of my Hyper-critical Oath."
Hermione chuckled, "You mean Hippocratic Oath."
Harry nodded, "Yeah, that too. I have lots of oaths."
Hermione shook her head in amazement, and a smile. "Lots? Do you collect them?"
"Sure. I have my Hypnautic Oath – that's if I'm ever onboard a ship. My Hippocampus Oath applies if someday I go to Uni –"
Hermione burst into laugher, "Ouch. Harry stop that." She clutched her stomach and fell over into bed chuckling. After a moment, she raised her head with a challenging smile, "What happens if you just go back to Hogwarts?"
"Ah, that's covered by my Hippo-cramp-us Oath."
Her head flopped back on the bed with a dramatic groan. "Silly boy."
Harry smiled contentedly to see her laugh. "Do you have any oaths that apply to Hogwarts?"
She looked at him darkly, "Yes, lots. But they're not suitable for polite company."
Harry nodded understandingly, "Maybe we should categorise all those collectively as the Hippo-lot-a-mus Oaths".
Hermione was back to smirking in a flash. "You think about this a lot, do you?"
"Not much else to do at my relatives."
Hermione noticed he said it too casually, too quickly, glossing over way too much. Her anger flashed, but her voice was calm, "What do you do at your relatives?"
Harry stiffened slightly, then shrugged, "Not much. Where were we?" He started flipping back through the pages of the book, "Ah, here we are." He started reading.
Hermione let him dodge the question. It was too hard to push him on such an obviously uncomfortable topic.
Another two chapters and Harry noticed Hermione's quiet breathing. He marked the book and got up to go start on cleaning the various parts of the back garden. He trimmed another set of roses; he clipped two for a vase in the kitchen. He shaped some of the hedges with light trimming. After putting away the tools and cleaning up he stood in the centre of the garden looking at the overall shape and considering what to do about a strangely shaped, lopsided apple tree.
"Something wrong?" Emma came out to stand with Harry looking around the garden.
Harry was caught thinking, and took a minute to catch up, "That apple tree. It looks unbalanced."
Emma smiled, "It's grafted. There are two varieties on that tree so each side has a slightly different shape to it. I'm surprised you noticed. Do you like gardening?"
Harry took a bit too long to answer, with a bit too fast of an answer, "It keeps me sane." He realised what that sounded like and tried to cover it over, "The beauty can be amazing. I've never seen a grafted tree before."
Emma nodded, "When you get close to it you can see a slightly different texture to the bark on each side."
Harry brought back a comfortable subject, "Is Hermione still asleep?"
"Yes, but she'll need to wake up soon. It's almost time for her potions."
Harry nodded with a smile, "I'll check." He went into the kitchen and found a pitcher, filled it, and brought a glass upstairs to Hermione. She was still asleep so he set the pitcher and glass down and settled into the reading chair to wait.
Harry read less than two chapters ahead before it was time for Hermione to wake. He reached over and touched her shoulder, "Hermione, wake up."
She pried open her eyes, took a huge breath, and stretched, "Ouch!" She curled back in on herself, "I stretched my scar. Stupid thing." She pouted, "Harry, what time is it?"
"Time for potions."
"Mmmgf. They taste horrible."
He smiled fondly and spoke teasingly, "So pleasant today."
She glared at him with her face half smashed into the pillow, "You're no different with Madam Pomfrey."
He chuckled, "No, I'm far worse. Everyone is just so used to it that they don't pay attention any more. It's all part of my plan." He wiggled his eyebrows like some kind of cartoon villain.
She smiled at his 'plan', "So you're saying I need to complain more often?" Her expression darkened a bit more, "And start more rows with Ron?"
Harry shrugged, "You can complain to me. I don't mind."
"Harry, you don't complain, you just – submerge and go silent." She waved her hand vaguely. "Like a submarine."
Harry's eyebrows ticked up with a slight grin peeking out, "A submarine? Where did you get that?"
She reached out her arm idly and tried to tap her finger on the tip of his nose, but couldn't reach. Her arm flopped back on the bed, "You. When you get stressed you submerge – disappear. No emotion breaks the surface. You just go silent."
Harry looked at her with a bit of concern, "I'm sorry."
She had a small smile and shook her head, "It's one of the ways I can tell something is bothering you."
"I had no idea I was so easy to read."
"You're not. Ron doesn't notice – but then he doesn't notice much."
Harry huffed in amusement, "No. Not much. But I can hear him now, 'Hey! I do too!'" Harry imitated Ron's voice.
They laughed.
"Ouch! Harry, don't make me laugh."
Harry whimpered comically, "It's what I live for, to see you laugh."
Hermione huffed, "Ok, hold that thought until my scar is cured. I'll laugh more often when it doesn't hurt."
He smiled, "That's a deal." He stood up and moved to the desk and picked up the potions, "Ok, It's time. The potions are in motions." He moved back toward the bed holding the potions and wiggling them at her.
She looked askance at him, "In motions?"
He shrugged with a smirk, "It rhymes. And there are more than one." He wiggled them at her again.
She huffed at him and took the potions from his hand and turned serious, "I can't wait for this to be over."
Harry went quiet, "I'm sorry."
She glared at him, "Harry, stop that." She downed the potions and shivered with an eye-watering grimace, "Oh, that's bad." After a moment she came to a conclusion, "Harry, help me up."
"What?"
"I want to go downstairs for dinner. I need to start moving or I'm going to go crazy. Help me up." She reached out for him.
He caught her hands and helped her to standing, with a minimum of groans, but quite a few grimaces. "Are you sure you're up for this?"
"No, but if I don't start, I never will be." She pointed to her closet, "Can you hand me my robe?" He did and she wrapped herself in the big fuzzy robe. "Ok, let's make a go of this."
He took her hand and lead the way toward the stairs, slowly down one step at a time, then to the kitchen table where she sat slowly, gingerly.
Harry immediately started making dinner, pulling out pots, food, and utensils.
"Harry, what are you doing?"
"Making dinner. It's late getting started."
"Why?"
He stopped and looked at her quite confused, "Why what?"
"Why are you making it?"
He looked around comically, "Because I'm hungry?"
She chuckled, "No, why are you making it? Why not Mum?"
He shrugged, still looking confused, "It's what I do."
Realisation started to land, "Do you do this all the time?"
"Yes."
"And weed the garden?" Emma stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. "Don't think I didn't notice."
Harry started to submerge. Reluctantly he nodded.
Emma and Hermione gave each other significant 'looks'.
Hermione sighed, "Harry, I can't let you become our house elf. You must let us share in the work."
Harry started to shrink, stuck his hands deep in his pockets.
Hermione stood up with effort and motioned for him to come to her.
He moved closer and she wrapped him in a hug and held on.
He held her up, his eyes closed, face buried in her hair.
Emma's voice softly broke through, "Well Hermione, there is the fact that he is a significantly better cook than either of us – sooo –"
Hermione started to chuckle, "Yes. Ok, you get to cook – today."
Harry smiled, "Thank you." He kissed the side of her head as he helped her slowly sit down.
Emma sat next to Hermione and watched as Harry resumed his motions toward a credible dinner.
Before dinner was ready to be put on the table Dan came in and took in the scene. "Harry, you have an audience."
Harry turned and smiled, "Yes, they have been watching me like hawks."
Dan smirked, "Alright, but are they applauding or critiquing? Maybe they could learn a few things?"
Hermione gasped, "Yes! I hadn't thought of that. Harry, you must teach me how to cook!"
Harry looked at her in worry, "Yes – but, maybe when you're a little stronger?"
Emma jumped in, "Yes, Hermione you are not allowed to strain yourself."
Hermione formed a pout that could disable armies.
Harry just stood and wilted, his hand trying to cover his face but he couldn't look away, "Oh, man, Hermione. You're killing me!"
Dan caught on to his difficulty, "Ah, Harry, you've caught the virus. You are now susceptible to pouts and puppy-dog eyes of all sorts. I'm sorry, I don't think it's curable." He shook his head with a rueful smile.
Harry began to snicker, "And who would want to cure that?" He held out his hand toward Hermione.
Dan nodded knowingly, "Oooh, the second stage of the disease."
Hermione cut in indignantly, "Hey! I'm right here."
Harry developed a confused, concerned, sneaking grin, "And you'd rather be somewhere else?"
"No! I'd just rather not be spoken of in the third person."
Harry's eyebrows rose with a touch of humour. He started pointing at Dan, then Emma, "One, two, –" Then he pointed at Hermione, "Three, –" Then himself, "Four. Looks numerical to me."
Hermione had a smile of retribution and said nothing.
Dan chuckled softly, "And round one goes to Harry. Congrats, that"s a rare achievement."
Hermione covered her face, "Mum, you're not helping me."
Emma whispered, "Shhh, admit no weakness."
Harry turned back to the stove triumphantly, "And dinner is ready!" He moved the contents of the pan into a serving dish and everyone sat down.
Dan made a point to say, "Thank you, Harry. This smells wonderful."
Harry immediately choked up, his eyes watering. No one had ever thanked him for cooking – or anything he did. He tried to clear his throat and swallow his threatening tears. It was surprising to him, that he would feel so – grateful for something – so simple.
Hermione wrapped an arm around his neck and drew him into a one-armed hug around the corner of the table, and a kiss on the cheek, "Yes, thank you, Harry." She looked deeply into his eyes, "I take it you don't get many – any? – thanks?"
Harry could barely control his emotions. He held on by the barest of margins, then shook his head.
She continued to look concerned into his eyes for a moment and spoke seriously, quietly, "I think Dumbledore is no longer your friend."
Harry looked shocked, afraid. He whispered, "What?"
Hermione started ticking off her fingers, "He is avoiding you, he's not answering your questions, he's not teaching you anything, he has forbidden your friends from contacting you, he has forced you to stay with those – animals! He is not on your side any more!"
Harry looked almost panicked, "But – who else will help me –"
Dan broke in forcefully, "We will."
Harry startled and looked to Dan, Emma, and Hermione, "But – you need to be safe – I can't let –"
Dan shook his head forcefully, "No. We will protect each other. No one – not even you – can protect everyone. We all must protect each other. You are not our lone hero."
Harry was completely confused, "But – the prophesy –"
Emma huffed, "Is hogwash. It only holds meaning to you if you want to give it meaning. – In other words – it's self-fulfilling only if you want it to be."
Harry held his breath, "But – Dumbledore and Voldemort believe it."
Hermione looked at Harry sceptically, "Do they? Or do they merely respect the power of a statement that carries the tag of 'prophesy' because others will believe it? If the prophesy says you have the power to defeat Voldemort and everyone else believes it, that sets you up as a power that is a challenge to Voldemort. He must deal with you or look weak."
Harry was befuddled, "But – Dumbledore said that only I can –"
Hermione laughed bitterly, "Yes, how convenient. He can get you to fight the war for everyone else. And how do you think you're going to do that without any training? Training that only he seems to be able to provide? Why isn't he? What's the point of him saying you have to fight this war but him not giving you any training to do so? Does he want you to fail? Or maybe he just wants to see if you will get lucky and kill Voldemort? And it won't cost him much if you can't? A blind bet on the 'power' of a prophesy?"
Harry sat stunned. His thoughts swirled, running in circles. Then he had a shot of fear that turned his face white. Could he trust Dumbledore? Dare he? Can he afford to? He realised that other lives were at stake now, too. Like Hermione's. The anger from destroying Dumbledore's office came rushing back. The unfairness. The stupidity! And this anger was pointed at Dumbledore again.
"Harry."
Harry startled and came back into focus. Dan had called his name, "Yes?"
"We will help you. But you need to let go of this weight. This responsibility that is not yours. Voldemort is the Ministry's responsibility, the wizarding world's responsibility, not yours alone. That is the function of governments; to protect their people."
Harry paused, "But – the Ministry is weak – they can't protect anyone."
Dan sighed angrily, "The wizarding population gets the government they chose – and therefore the government they deserve. That isn't your responsibility either."
That hit home for Harry. He sighed and started to relax. But he was still confused. He had been so – captured by the prophesy. He didn't know how to 'let go of it' yet. But he wanted to let go of it. He resented that weight being dumped on him. That he had no choice, no – future, no hope. All that was robbed from him. No – room for love, for a life to be lived. Just – death. He could not do that. He didn't know anyone who could. But – how could he let go?
"Harry, you need to eat. We will talk more later." Hermione picked up her fork. And gave him a look. With a growing smile. "Eat, Harry."
Harry wrapped himself in his food and submerged into his emotions. It was all he could do. To hide from – everything. His shame of what his relatives had done to him, at what was said about him starting with the story of his attending the St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, all the lies he couldn't fight, his embarrassment at the pity that everyone showed him for what happened to his parents. He just wanted to run away and hide.
They all ate in silence, trying to be sensitive to Harry's emotions.
After dinner, Harry started to clean up, saving the left-overs in the refrigerator.
Emma helped Hermione move into the living room.
When Harry started cleaning the dishes, Dan spoke up, "Uh, Harry."
Harry turned, his hands covered in soapy water, "Yes?"
Dan came over and put a hand on his shoulder, "You should go sit with Hermione. The dishes are my responsibility."
Harry looked quite confused, "But –"
Dan smiled, "No, no. You cooked, I clean. That's the bargain."
"Bargain?" Harry still looked confused.
Dan nodded, "The division of labour. Someone cooks and someone else cleans. That's the deal. You go help Hermione with her potions and whatever she needs, Ok?"
Harry blinked a few times and focussed on Hermione, "Yes – ok." He rinsed his hands and moved toward the living room.
Dan smiled as he picked up the dishes and started in.
As Harry entered the living room Hermione saw him coming, "Harry!" She held out her hands to him, "Come sit with me."
He moved closer and caught her hands and held them, "In just a moment, I need to get your potions."
Her face fell and she looked tired, "Ok."
He ran up stairs, then down into the kitchen and came back with her two vials of potions and a glass of water, "These two vials, right?" He held them up for her to see.
She frowned, "Yes, they are definitely vile, all right."
Harry snickered, "Yes. That's true." He handed the potions and the water to her and sat down next to her.
Hermione groaned and grimaced with each one, followed by a drink of water, and ended with a shiver, "Oh, those are bad."
Harry smiled with sympathy, "The taste must be inversely proportional to their effectiveness."
She looked at him in amazement, "Are you trying to say that the worse it tastes, the better it works? That it's only the bad taste that cures the disease?"
He shrugged with a glint in his eye, "Sure seems like it to me. It's like some sort of magical placebo effect. The bad taste is all there really is and it incites our own magic to cure your ills."
Emma and Hermione laughed.
Emma shook her head, "Harry, are you making a sly comment on the wizarding world as a whole?"
Now Harry was chuckling, "I suppose I am. Does anyone really have any clue what's actually going on? It could mean that potions really are useless and all I need to do is to hit you with a spell that incites your magic to act and heal yourself." He sighed dramatically, "What would Professor Snape say to that?"
Hermione chuckled, "I suppose it is an interesting question. Is the magic in the potion? Or, if there is magic, does it actually work to cure you or does it cause an effect only because your own magic is responding? Or – something else entirely?"
Harry shook his head in exasperation and sarcasm, "Gee, where's that scientific method when you need it? Oh, that's right, the wizarding world doesn't believe in it! Ohhh, so sad." His voice grew darkly angry and bitter, "That sounds like a self-inflicted wound!" His voice hitched as he noticed Hermione and Emma's shocked looks and his face reddened, "– Sorry."
Hermione reached out to him, "Harry, what are you sorry about?"
He shook his head, "I guess – I'm rather angry at the wizarding world." His emotions started to rise, "Dumping all this on me."
She drew him into a hug, her own emotions running high, "Yes. Me too. You don't deserve any of this."
Harry looked at Hermione, then submerged a bit and nodded reluctantly. He felt embarrassed and wanted to move passed this topic but couldn't think of anything else. His mind was blank. Until, "How are you getting back upstairs?"
Hermione sighed heavily, "I – don't know."
He turned away and knelt down, "Ok. I'm ready."
"But you and Dad can help me up."
He looked back over his shoulder concerned, "Like a sack of potatoes? I don't think that will work."
She sighed again, "Ok." She started to get up slowly and leaned down, without leaning against his back.
"Ok, ready?"
"Yes, just – go slow."
Harry slowly got up, got a sly look, and started making vrooming noises as he started walking fast toward the stairs.
"Harry! Slowly."
"Handrail?" Harry stopped at the bottom of the stairs until Hermione reached out and caught it. Then started up – slowly.
Emma came up behind them.
Harry made flying noises as he came in for a smooth banked landing on the bed, depositing her sitting up. He sat in the reading chair as Emma drew up the covers. "Shall I read?"
Hermione smiled, "Yes, please."
Harry went through the ritual of getting the book, finding the page, and settling in for the duration. Another two chapters and Hermione's breathing evened out. Harry sat looking at her. He stared and imagined her as a five year old – or eight – living in this house, growing up with her parents. He was caught in the dream. Until he heard a throat cleared. He looked up at Dan and Emma smiling in the doorway.
Dan said, "You should probably get some sleep."
Emma cut in, "Yes, the first rule of caring for babies is that if they are asleep, then you need to be asleep. Otherwise you will never get any."
Harry chuckled, then looked up at the clock, it was almost 10. He nodded and got up, placing a marker in the page. He hurried across the hall to his room – when had it become his room? He shook his head to put those thoughts away, and tried to sleep.
Tuesday, 16 July, 1996
Harry was up and cooking early in the morning again. Smells were beginning to fill the kitchen, until the heater turned on and started circulating the smells all over the house.
Dan walked into the kitchen and chuckled, "Harry, you're at it again. Filling the house with amazing food smells." He came over to Harry, put his arm around Harry's shoulders and leaned in to smell, "Is that cilantro I smell in there?"
Harry smiled and nodded. It was all he could do without choking up.
Dan sighed dramatically, "Wow. Very nice. I'm going to have to start taking notes." He moved back toward the table and sat down. He spoke softly, "Did your relatives make you do a lot of cooking? Is that how you learned how to cook?"
Harry stiffened and slowed his stirring, and then nodded without turning around.
Dan nodded sadly, "Does that create conflicting emotions for you? Cooking for us when that was what they made you do?"
Harry stopped and thought, then started moving again. He spoke equally softly, "No. Not when it's for people I care about. I'm – actually glad for the skills – now."
Dan smiled slightly, though Harry couldn't see him, "Well, just as long as you realise that we have no expectation that you do this. You can stop at any time, for any reason. If it ever stops being – good for you, you can stop doing this. If you enjoy it, if it is encouraging for you, if it somehow – redeems your experience, then feel free to help. But it is not, in any way, required. Ok?"
Harry kept stirring and didn't turn around, he just nodded. He knew he was hiding behind the food, but it was all he could manage now. It was a few seconds later that Harry stopped and quietly asked the pot in front of him, "Why?"
Dan smiled, "Because your value to us is not defined by, or dependent upon, what you do. For us or anyone else. Your value is based on who you are."
After a few seconds of quiet stirring Harry asked that pot, "Who am I?"
Dan chuckled, "That is a question you get to answer. We can offer suggestions, give our views, but you get to decide that one. Just keep in mind that you can decide that any way you want, but don't accept any views from anyone who doesn't care about you."
Harry nodded and moved the contents of his pan to a serving dish and put it on the table. He started serving up two plates, "It's ready. Go ahead, I'll take some to Hermione."
"Thank you, Harry."
Harry hurried out of the kitchen, upstairs and spoke through the closed door, "Hermione, breakfast is here."
Emma opened the door and breathed deeply, "Ohh, that smells good."
Harry moved in the door and set down the plates.
Hermione sat up with some effort, "Harry, what am I going to do?" At his confused look she continued, "You're spoiling me. I don't think I can go back to normal."
Emma whispered toward Hermione, "Yes, but don't miss out! Tuck in." She moved down the hall to find more of that smell.
Harry was sitting in the rocking chair with his plate, he nodded at Hermione's plate, "It's getting cold."
She took her eyes off of him, picked up her plate and started in, "Thank you, Harry."
He shook his head, "Nothing to thank me for. I'm just trying to repay you for all you've done for me all these years. Helping me with school work, with – all my problems, with – everything."
She huffed, "I don't have anything to thank you for? Not even – a troll, flying keys, Fluffy, dementors? I can't even remember them all!" She gave him the eye – and a smile.
Harry rolled his eyes and bobbed his head side to side, "Well, I suppose." He tried to deftly change the subject, "Are you going to France again this year?"
Hermione shook her head sadly, "No." She continued at his surprised look, "I'm not strong enough yet. And – I can't go to the beach with a scar like this. Maybe next year."
Harry hung his head in shame.
"Harry! Stop that. You didn't do this to me. Dolohov did."
His face was crumpled in anguish, "I put you in that position!"
"No! I put myself in that position. Playing around with silencing spells instead of a good cutting spell."
"But you shouldn't have followed me!"
Hermione stood up, "Yes, I should! And I'd do it again."
"No! I'm not worth it!"
"Yes! You! Are!" She stood leaning over him, glaring down at him, pointing a finger at his eyes. Her voice broke as her emotions rose, squeezing her voice to a whisper, "You're worth more than anything to me."
Harry's anger broke as shock set in, "But – Ron –"
She shook her head as she glared into his eyes, "Ron and I would never work. I see that now."
Harry looked desperately confused, "But –"
Hermione huffed and waved her hand, "He doesn't care about anything I care about. And you're twice the man he is."
Harry looked stricken, "No! You can't! I'll get you killed."
She started to lose energy and turn pale, "Not if I have anything to say about it." She lost her balance and caught herself with her hand leaning on Harry's shoulder.
She slowly collapsed as Harry stood up as he caught her. He picked her up and gently laid her down in her bed, "Not like that, you won't."
Hermione smiled up at him, "That's why you're here to help me get better."
Harry leaned on the bed, his face full of anguish, "I can't risk your life."
"No. You can't. I am." She poked him lightly in the chest.
Harry stood up and turned away, "No! You can't!"
"I will."
Harry shook his head and moved down to the kitchen and started cleaning up breakfast. The monotony of cleaning helped him manage the turmoil of his emotions. Then he moved out to the back garden. The physical exertion helped to calm his shaking hands. He could not handle the thought of her risking her life for him. That was too far. He could not let that happen. He would have to leave her behind when it came down to fighting Voldemort – whatever that looked like. He couldn't fight if she was at risk. But – that was later, somewhere down the road. In the mean time he would see to her healing.
He cleaned up his trimmings and tools and came back into the kitchen to start lunch. By then he had calmed down and felt bad for arguing with Hermione, so he made a batch of scones too. With a sweet drizzle on top. He sighed heavily as he brought the food up to Hermione's room.
He stood in the doorway and saw Hermione asleep. He stood looking at her; his heart melted. Now he really felt bad; she cared about him. Even if that was a bad idea. He thought of how stubborn she was; how was he going to change her mind? He shook his head. First, her healing. He moved to set down the plate of scones and sandwiches on the bedside table.
Her touched her shoulder, "Hermione, lunch is here."
She drew a deep breath, "Ouch!" She curled into herself, "Stupid scar." She looked up with a pained expression, "Harry. What's happening?"
He smiled fondly, "Lunch is happening." He pointed at the plates of scones and sandwiches.
"Scones?" She glanced at him, "You made scones?" She struggled to sit up and reached for one.
He smirked, "Actually they just started falling from the sky. I just went outside and picked them up off the ground."
She huffed and gave him a dark look, with a sneaking smile, "Harry." Then she bit into one, "Mmmf! Gees r gud!"
Harry burst out laughing.
Hermione struggled to keep scone bits from leaking out around her smile, and not breaking down laughing too. She started pointing at him accusingly, "MmhhmmmHhm."
Harry was trying to control himself, "Yes? You were saying?"
She started mumbling more noises and throwing leaked scone bits at him.
He squeaked and tried to catch them. With nowhere to put them he just ate them. "Ooh, that was a good bit. Got any more of those?" He held out his hands expectantly waiting for her to throw another bit.
Emma stood in the doorway with a concerned look, "Hermione, no feeding the animals."
Hermione looked guilty, with a touch of angry pout, glaring at Harry, "He started it."
Harry burst out laughing again.
Emma shook her head in mock exasperation, "You two." She moved down the hall with a smile peaking out.
Harry controlled himself back to merely a subdued smile, "Hermione, I'm sorry I was arguing with you."
She turned serious and sad, she nodded, "Me too."
Harry nodded decisively, smiled roguishly, "So – you're a secret scone-monster, are you?"
Hermione chuckled, "Well, when their that good – yes!" She started on a sandwich.
Harry grinned, "Hhhmm. Maybe I'll have to escalate to donuts, or something."
"Donuts? No, you'll have to apply for a Sweets Permit from Mum, first. Otherwise you could get arrested."
Harry looked crushed, "No sweets?"
"Hey, dentists, remember? This is a 'no sweets zone'."
Harry started over-the-top whimpering, "How do you handle it? I'd die!"
Hermione gave him her 'are-you-serious' smirk, "I think you'll live." She laid down after her sandwich. She looked at him pleadingly, "Reading?"
He smiled, "Sure." He got up and got the book, sat down in the reading chair and started in. Harry was very excited because he knew from reading ahead that the attack on Buckland was about to begin. It wasn't until Frodo made it through the Hedge into the Old Forrest that Harry noticed Hermione's quiet breathing. He smiled, watching her breathe. He thought he was really coming to understand the concept of 'contentment' ... Or – even bliss? It warranted more thought...
Harry woke to the clink of plates.
Emma was gathering up the lunch plates, "Good afternoon, you two. Time to wake up. Dinner is almost ready."
Groans, stretches, and mumbles answered her.
Harry gathered himself first, "Ohhh, I'm sorry. I fell asleep. And I forgot dinner." His words were squeezed through a stretch and pushed around a yawn.
Emma was smiling at him, "Well, you're in luck. Dan came home early today, so you won't have to suffer through my cooking." She turned to Hermione, "Would you like me to bring yours up here?"
Hermione shook her head and started to sit up.
Emma mumbled something about 'stubborn' and took the dishes downstairs.
Harry stood up to help Hermione, "How are you feeling?" He noticed her eyes were brighter, her smile had more energy.
"Much better. It still hurts to move sometimes and the scar is still big but the colour isn't as purple anymore."
He was captivated by the return of her vibrant smile. He hadn't seen it since he got there. He watched her move slowly down the stairs as he backed down in front of her, holding her hand. He stopped as he reached the floor.
As Hermione stepped onto the floor she turned into him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder, "Thank you, Harry. This is so much easier with you here."
He whispered into her hair as he held her, "Anything for you, Hermione."
She gave him a brief squeeze and they moved into the kitchen for dinner.
"Just in time!" Dan moved a dish from the stove to the table and sat down, along with everyone else.
Dan rubbed his hands together expectantly, "Well, now that Harry has sufficiently raised the bar for dinner I felt I needed to respond and defend my standing as 'Head Chef' with – stir-fry!" He pointed about the table, "There are a selection of sauces, some cheeses, and there is always more to be made easily. So – tuck in."
Harry had never had stir-fry before so there was lots of discussions on the origins, styles, and options for it. He loved it, but knew he would never get his relatives to even try it. It was – foreign. Harry was so excited. The life that Hermione and her parents had was so – full. Full of wonderful food, new experiences, new places. It was everything the Dursley's didn't have and would never have. It was – even more than magic, because magic was – in it's own way – almost as stilted and narrow as the Dursley's. Just as bigoted in the opposite direction. Hermione's life was a window to the whole world. Harry could barely contain his excitement.
Dan woke him out of his thoughts, "So, Harry, what do you think about the current state of the wizarding world?"
A growl popped out of Harry before he could catch it, "I was just thinking of that." He stopped and thought, "You know, my relatives are – quite bigoted against anything new, or foreign, or ..."
Hermione spoke quietly, "They are narrow?"
Harry turned to her, "Closed. Completely. To anything new. Well, guess what? The wizarding world is worse! They are hidebound, rigid, inflexible. Insular. Isolationist – what other bad verbs can I come up with?" He started to get a sly smile, "Bad verbs are kind'a like adverbs but – worse."
Emma missed his teasing and looked a bit concerned, "You don't like magic?"
Harry shook his head, "Oh, no, magic is wonderful. Magical culture? Magical people?" Harry was starting to get a bit heated, "All the pain in my life can be traced to magical people. To magical culture. I'm struggling to keep in mind the things that I think are good, that are worth saving. It's a pretty small list." Harry was surprised by his own vehemence. The depth of his feeling. But it was true. And the comparison between the Dursley's and magical culture was a revelation. "There is not a lot to hold me to the magical world." The words popped out – and the truth of it caught up.
Hermione put her hand on Harry's, "You've got your OWLs now. You are no longer tied to the magical world."
Harry's expression softened as he drifted into thoughts of the future, "Hm. Yes. Just – this Voldemort crap." He looked down at his plate, "Damn prophesies."
Emma spoke softly, "Harry, any pronouncement only has power over you if you let it."
Harry looked up, confusion racing back and forth across his face, "But – magic – and the prophesy –"
Emma spoke gently, "What role does magic play in belief? Or what role does belief play in magic? Not much, I think."
Hermione looked stunned, "Well – what role does magic play in a prophesy? Does it enforce the prophesy? Is it a statement of truth? Or does magic merely cause 'a leak' of information from the future and plays no role in that future? Is it only one possible future? Merely a warning of possibilities?"
Emma nodded to Hermione and looked back to Harry, "Given that Hermione has said that most wizards deify magic, isn't that the perfect set-up to enforce the power of the label of 'prophesy'? Of creating the ultimate self-fulfilling prophesy? Because everyone can blame everything on a prophesy and escape the weight of choice, the weight of any responsibility? Any guilt?"
Hermione lightly chuckled, "The whole process of deifying magic removes almost all responsibility." She snorted in derision, "You don't even need a brain when you don't have to make any difficult choices." She posed and put on a posh accent, "Magic will fix it." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand before she huffed in derision.
Harry looked thoughtful into the distance, "Magic is pretty wonderful. How did magical people get to be so bad?"
Dan made a thoughtful noise, "Well – like you said, the Dursley's aren't any better. But it seems like magic plays in to humanity's weaknesses. Magic is like a drug. It seems so easy. It lures us in and promises an easy life. Like a very fun toy. But I think it comes with a cost." His eyebrows rose, "Or more accurately a responsibility?"
Hermione smiled darkly, "Yes, that old quote; 'To whom much is given, much is required'. With the wizarding world so isolated nothing is required any more. The Statute of Secrecy has become an enabling factor in skirting all responsibility. There are no needs that magic is needed to fill – at least none that magicals can see or will admit."
Dan looked very concerned, "Can I suggest you both get the hell out of magical culture?"
Harry nodded, "I'll go for that."
Hermione smiled, "We can go to Uni!"
Harry smiled to match hers, "That sounds nice."
Emma drug them back to reality, "But the issue remains, what is a prophesy? Does it control you? Is it something you are required to fulfil? Does it require anything from you? Does it mean all agency is removed from you and it will just happen? Then what is the purpose of a prophesy?"
Harry huffed, "Yes, if it removes personal choice, then why have a prophesy? What's the point? I resent that thing completely."
Emma softly chuckled, "Myself? I think the prophesy means nothing. Even if it does, I think the best thing for you to do is run away from it."
Harry sighed, "Yes, but – regardless of any prophesy, there is still some sort of linkage between me and Voldemort. Sometimes I have visions of what he is doing."
"What?" Dan looked very concerned. "How does that work?"
Harry looked confused and shrugged.
Hermione said, "We don't know. Dumbledore isn't talking to Harry any more so we can't really ask."
Harry put his hand to his forehead and sighed, "There is some sort of connection between me and him. My scar hurts when he is nearby, sometimes I can feel his strong emotions – even see through his eyes, what he is seeing. It seems – something about the scar that he gave me when I was a baby has connected us. And – I wonder if Dumbledore knows?"
Hermione hummed, "Knows? Suspects? Guesses? Doesn't want to tell you? I'll go with that last one, for sure."
Harry ground his teeth, "I'm feeling rather abused as of late."
Dan nodded, "I'd say so. Is there anyone else you can ask questions of? That you could trust?"
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Harry turned back to Dan and started to speak – but he ended up just shrugging, "I could ask Remus – but he's very indebted to Dumbledore. I don't know anyone who isn't."
Emma turned to Hermione, "No one in the government is trustworthy? – And not in Dumbledore's pocket?"
Hermione shook her head slowly.
Harry sat up, "Wait – What about Madam Bones? I've always felt she is quite trustworthy."
Hermione looked sadly at Harry, "Madam Bones was murdered two weeks ago. Scrimgeour is head of the DMLE now."
Harry groaned and covered his face, "Oh, God."
Dan sat up stiffly, "That sounds bad." He took a long breath, "I think we might want to think about bailing out of England." He looked to Emma with a dark serious look.
Emma gave him a look of acknowledgement – and maybe agreement.
Harry nodded enthusiastically, "That sounds like a great idea. You'll be safe outside England."
Dan smiled, "Not without you, Harry."
"What?"
Hermione was looking at her parents with tears in her eyes, and a smile, "You two are amazing."
Harry was still lost, "What?"
Hermione turned back to Harry, "Harry, I think they are right. We should consider it. And no, we are not leaving without you."
Harry sat like a fish, his mouth working soundlessly and his eyes big and empty.
Dan smiled again, "Well, nothing will be decided this instant, so – I'll do some checking on some things tomorrow and we'll keep talking about it. Alright?"
Everyone nodded but Harry, who was still blinking in confusion.
Hermione started to move, "Harry, help me get up." She started to get up slowly.
Harry startled out of his confusion and stood up to help Hermione.