Giant's Gulch, Part 6

Day Ten

"Okay, here come two of them, side-by-side!" James said, shouting to be heard over the sound of hooves storming against the ground.

"Ready?" Harry called.

James nodded and they both ran full-force at the two erumpents, who were charging shoulder-to-shoulder through the large clearing. Harry ran for the farthest erumpent, tossed the rope he was holding around the large horn at the center and tried to jump onto the creature's back. He made it onto the large back, using a small boost of wandless magic to float himself up into the air, but the rope had failed to loop around the erumpent's horn, leaving Harry nothing to hang onto, so he slipped a few moments later as the animal charged on.

As Harry brushed red dust off his clothes, he watched his dad, who had managed to get his rope around the erumpent's horn, whoop as his erumpent took him to the edge of the clearing. When the erumpent stopped to get a drink of water, James slid down his side and began making his way back, the rope draped around the back of his neck.

A large hand pulled Harry up by his shoulder. Harry felt the air around him vibrate with the low laughter of the giant next to him. "That one was bigger than the others!" Harry said defensively. The giant just kept laughing.

After Harry and James explained to the giant at the entrance this morning that they were the ones who apprehended the criminals the day before, the giant called for one of his friends and insisted he give their group a special tour of the area. Morad, their guide (and the giant who was currently laughing at Harry) had introduced them to this erumpent game, which was surprisingly fun.

Harry liked the blend of skill and fitness required. You had to run full-out to catch up with the erumpent, have enough finesse to lock the rope on the erumpent's horn, use a burst of magic to get up onto the creature's back, then try to hang on as it ran at full speed, which was sort of like riding a very large, unruly broom. Harry and his dad had added a layer of competition to the sport, which made it even more fun.

Needless to say, it was a very good day. There was a lot of laughing and bonding with his dad, which was just what Harry needed after the heaviness of the night before.

Harry looked over at the witches, who were across the clearing, sitting near a pond as they fed a host of colorful birds, using a special type of seed Morad had given them. Harry squinted, holding his hand up to block the sun, and saw that his mum was waving at him.

Hermione, however, was pointedly looking away from him, pretending to be extremely focused on the small bird in her hand. Or maybe she wasn't pretending and he was just projecting his own insecurities. He waved back at his mum and still, Hermione kept her gaze forward. Harry sighed. He didn't know what to think about Hermione anymore.

The night before, after he'd held her in his arms for a few minutes, stroking her hair and listening to the sound of her breathing, he forced himself to let go of her. But she didn't move back to her side of the bed. Instead, she clung harder to him. They fell asleep like that and this morning, he'd awoken in a mess of curls and tangled limbs.

Hermione had jumped out of the bed, moving faster than Teddy when Harry announced it was time for a bath, and blushed profusely. She mumbled something about how it was wrong and how they could never do it again before disappearing into the shower, while Harry's mind had been screaming at him, "That's Ron's fiancée! What the fuck are you doing?!"

They needed to address what was going on between them before something serious happened. This was just getting worse. Harry was worried that if they kept trying to pretend nothing was happening, they'd end up in the same, or perhaps an even more compromising position, the next morning.

Hermione was usually the first person to confront things like this. She was blunt and direct, something Harry had always liked about her. But this time, she was determined to ignore it. And it was also very un-Hermione-like to say one thing and do another. She was the most disciplined person Harry knew but this time, she didn't seem able to keep herself away from Harry (which was exactly how he felt toward her).

He took all this to mean she was as caught off guard by the whole thing as he was and that her feelings were probably just as unexpectedly intense as his. But could you fall for someone that hard in just a week? Probably not. But it was possible to slowly fall for someone over the course of ten years, hide it from yourself, then have the truth of those mounting feelings hit you like a train when you finally discover it.

But...what now? Was he going to go back and tell Ron and Ginny that in what felt like a blink of an eye for them, he and Hermione had gone on a two-week trip with his parents and realized they liked each other? Would Hermione even go for that? What would happen then? They'd have to cancel their weddings, Ron would abandon Harry and Hermione again, probably for good this time. Ginny would never speak to them again and the rest of the Weasleys would support Ron and Ginny.

And just like that, he and Hermione would be alone. Maybe some of their friends would understand and stick around, like Luna and Neville, but that would be it. And what if Harry fucked it up? He wasn't the best at relationships. If Hermione left, then...it would be just him. That dark, utter feeling of loneliness threatened to consume him just at the thought of it. Even out here, in this sunny clearing, he felt cold and instinctively wrapped his arms around himself.

The whole thing terrified him if he thought about it for too long. But this just further proved that the feelings he experienced in this body were his own, not the other Harry's. Harry hadn't experienced any emotions on this trip that felt foreign to him. Why would his attraction to Hermione be any different? He was sure it would carry over in their world when he was back in his own body.

Harry also knew that when he was back home, and trying to work through the new round of grief that would come over him once he lost this version of his parents, that there was only one witch he wanted at his side (and it wasn't Ginny).

His thoughts were interrupted by the reappearance of his dad. James clapped him on the shoulder. "Better luck next time."

"I'd like to remind you that I won the first two rounds," Harry said. He plastered a smile on his face before he turned to face James, who was wiping the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his arm.

"Of course you did, you're younger. But I'm finally getting the hang of it… and you're getting tired. Aren't Aurors supposed to be in better shape than this?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Okay, next question," James said as they walked back to the top of the clearing, where Morad was corralling a few more erumpents for them. "What did you do for your last birthday?"

James had been asking Harry questions like this all day. What his favorite sweet was, his favorite subject in school, and countless details about his Quidditch matches. James had been horrified to learn how many times the Quidditch season had been canceled and that when Gryffindor had won the cup in Harry's Fifth and Sixth Year, he'd been banned from playing in the final matches.

It was nice, having James indignant on Harry's behalf, but even better than that was how James wanted to know him. He wasn't his son, but that didn't keep James from asking these questions with what seemed to Harry like sincere interest.

Harry stopped walking as he tried to recall his last birthday, which was only a few weeks ago. The time before this trip felt like ages ago, but Harry tried not to think about time as much as he could. How it was passing and how in just a few days, he'd have to say goodbye.

"I had work that day but got a break to go to lunch with Hermione and Ron in Diagon Alley. Then that night, there was a small party at the Burrow. With cake and a game of Quidditch, of course."

James nodded approvingly.

"What about you?" Harry asked. "What did you do for your last birthday?"

James rubbed the back of his neck as he thought. "Oh, I dragged your mum to a Quidditch match. Tornadoes versus Harpies."

Harry's stomach flipped at the mention of Ginny's team. "Who won?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Harpies. It was close, though."

Harry hummed. "Does Ginny Weasley play on that team? In our world, she's a Chaser for the Harpies."

James furrowed his brow as he nodded slowly. "Yeah...she does. She's pretty good. I'm guessing you played with her in school?"

Played with her...dated her...lost my virginity to her...proposed to her… "Er - yeah."

James simply nodded, unaware of Harry's internal struggle. Harry should tell him the truth about Ginny. There was no reason for him and Hermione to keep pretending to be engaged. But something made him hold back. It was big news and he couldn't just drop it on James in the middle of erumpent wrangling. Maybe later, when the group was together again.

"What's wrong?" James asked when they were just a few paces away from the edge of the clearing. Damn. He had noticed Harry's internal struggle. Harry's mind cast about for something to say and landed on a topic that had been bothering him earlier.

"I - er - have a question."

"Do I think you can win this round?" James joked. "No."

"Oh - er - no."

James nudged him in the side. "What is it?"

Harry was suddenly very nervous and considered just telling him about Ginny, but managed to force out his question in the end. "Is it okay if I keep calling you dad? I know I'm not your son but - er - it feels weird to call you James."

James gave him a sad smile as he reached out and gripped his shoulder. "The way I see it, you're not my son, but I am your father - just...older. So why wouldn't you call me dad?"

Harry felt tears well in his eyes and started blinking quickly. "Okay. Yeah. Makes sense, um, dad," Harry replied, testing the word for the first time since James had learned the truth about who he was.

James wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and they walked the last few steps in easy silence. When they reached the edge of the clearing, James turned to Harry and said with a grin, "I've revised my earlier statement. You are my son. Just - another version. So tell me, son, ready for another go?"

"Boys," Lily said with a smile as she and Hermione watched Morad pick Harry up off the ground. "They'll make a sport out of anything."

"Yeah," Hermione sighed. She watched Harry brush himself off and when he turned toward them, she became very focused on the small red bird in her hand.

She saw Lily wave to Harry out of her periphery, then Lily laid back on her hands and asked, "Is he terribly famous in your world?"

Hermione nodded, keeping her eyes on the bird. "He hates it."

"Hmm. So does Neville." Lily turned to face Hermione, pulling her legs up under her, and Hermione drew her eyes away from the bird. "You must be famous, too. In this world, no one outside the Order knew of Hermione's contributions. But they'd know, in your world."

Hermione nodded again. "Harry, Ron, and I are all famous. They call us 'The Golden Trio.'"

"Ew."

Hermione let out a laugh. "I know."

"I'm sorry about that. It makes enjoying the peace after the war a bit harder, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

Lily turned her head back to Harry, who was walking with James to the edge of the clearing. "He looks more relaxed than he has the whole trip," Lily said. "It makes sense, since he was hiding something so big. It must be a big relief for him."

"Sorry," Hermione said, moving her fingers through the pile of birdseed in front of her.

"Don't be sorry. Given what you two went through, it's understandable that you'd be distrusting of the world around you."

Hermione just shrugged. She'd never thought of it like that, but she was like that, wasn't she? Distrusting of new people and places. She could only count on a handful of people in her life and even then - she wasn't always sure.

"Did you and Harry have a childhood, Hermione?" Lily asked gently. "You were forced to grow up so quickly but - in between it all - were you allowed to be kids? Did you nick sweets from the kitchen, enjoy Hogsmeade weekends, obsess over crushes, have snowball fights, land yourself in detention one or two times, and simply… you know… have fun?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, Lily. We were kids. We used the map and cloak more than we should have to visit the kitchens and Hagrid's hut. We all had crushes and Ron even got into an incident with a Love Potion (that was meant for Harry). We had plenty of snowball fights, spent countless nights laughing and playing games in the Common Room, and detention… Well, I only ever had one but Harry… he had more like one or two per year."

Lily let out a small laugh. "That's light, compared to James."

"Yeah. We heard about James and Sirius. They were a bit of a legend."

James and Harry were having what looked like a serious talk, then James wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders. Hermione's heart swelled for Harry. She was glad he was allowed to be himself around his parents now. Lily had asked her something else, but Hermione missed it. She focused back on Lily and asked her to repeat the question.

"How many of Harry's detentions were from Severus?"

"Oh." Hermione stopped to take a deep breath. She'd sort of been waiting for Lily to bring Snape up but now that she'd done it, Hermione didn't feel ready. "Probably half."

"Were they deserved?"

"Only one," Hermione replied, thinking of the time Harry hit Malfoy with Sectumsempra and hoping Lily wouldn't ask her about it.

Lily hummed. "What was he like?"

"Oh...uh…"

"That bad?"

"Yeah," Hermione said honestly. "He was angry all the time and...well...he was brilliant, clearly, but didn't seem to have the patience for teaching. He was terrible to everyone who wasn't in Slytherin and...I don't know. It's safe to say he wasn't anyone's favorite professor, except maybe Draco Malfoy."

Lily frowned. "And how was he with Harry?" Hermione suspected Lily already knew the answer to this question.

"He treated Harry worse than anyone. At first, before we learned of the rivalry between James and Snape in school, I couldn't make any sense of it. But it makes sense now. He saw James every time he looked at Harry."

"That's disappointing," Lily replied, her voice uneven. She began moving her hands through the pile of seed, like Hermione had been doing earlier.

"Lily?"

"Yes?"

"Did you know he felt that way about you?"

Lily nodded, keeping her head down. "I didn't know his Patronus had changed, but I knew he loved me. I thought - though - that he loved the Dark Arts more."

Hermione stayed quiet. She didn't have any follow-up questions, but Lily wasn't finished talking.

"It makes sense, that he felt that way. I was the first person in his life who was ever kind to him."

"I think it was more than that, Lily. You're beautiful, powerful, and brilliant. Also, unbelievably kind and caring. I think maybe he loved you for all that."

Lily pressed her palms to her cheeks. "You're making me blush."

Hermione just smiled at her.

When Lily dropped her hands from her face, she looked back at James, who was riding one of the erumpents next to Harry and said sadly, "I never felt the same toward Severus and I always felt a little bad about it. Unrequited love is terribly painful. I can't imagine what it would feel like if James didn't love me back."

Hermione was glad Lily was looking away, since she'd momentarily forgotten how to breathe. Her eyes flashed to Harry, unbidden, and the tightness in her chest intensified. She picked up a handful of birdseed and tossed it in front of her, enticing a few more birds out of the tree in front of them.

"Severus had a hard upbringing," Lily continued, playing with the pile of seed again. "His father was awful and–" she sighed, "-I don't know if he ever felt truly accepted. It's difficult to come out of that sort of childhood intact. He could have been great. He had a good heart. But unfortunately, he went looking for love and acceptance in the wrong place. James never understood that - still doesn't. He's been loved his whole life. His parents adored him - everyone at school adored him. I was the only one who ever made him work for it."

She paused as a smile touched her features. "But you and I know what it's like," she said, her green eyes snapping up to meet Hermione's. "We're Muggleborns. We know how hard it is to fight for acceptance."

Hermione nodded as she remembered those first few years at Hogwarts, when she'd been convinced if she wasn't the best, they'd change their mind about her and send her back to the Muggle world, claiming they'd made some sort of mistake.

"Harry… my Harry… is more like James. But this Harry...he longs for acceptance. He's more like us and Severus, isn't he?"

Tears stung Hermione's eyes. She simply nodded, at a loss for anything else to say. Lily had perfectly summed up why Hermione had always felt closest to Harry, more so than Ron, even.

They both looked over at James and Harry who were pulling their shirts off, about to jump into the lake at the end of the clearing, where the erumpents had stopped to drink. Hermione didn't blame them for wanting a break. Jumping on top of those giant beasts over and over again looked exhausting.

"We tried to get Neville to move into Headquarters right after Dumbledore died," Lily announced, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Yeah?" Hermione said politely.

"We couldn't move him until he came of age, however. Dumbledore had set up a protection over Augusta's home. It was linked to the Sacrificial Magic."

"Oh," Hermione said, swallowing hard. She knew where Lily was going with this.

"Since the magic was linked to Frank's blood, it was present, to some extent, in Augusta. And as long as Neville called her house home, Voldemort couldn't touch him while he was there. We didn't move Neville until after he came of age and that protection broke, since nothing we could come up with was as powerful as that."

"Huh," was all Hermione said.

"I wonder…" Lily continued, "if the same spell would have occurred to Dumbledore in your world." She was watching Hermione intently now. "I wonder if Dumbledore would have sought out my only living relative, my Muggle sister, and asked her to take Harry in. And I wonder if the obvious reticence Harry displayed last night while talking about his Muggle family was because he didn't want to trouble me with the fact that he was raised by my horrid sister and her even worse husband."

Hermione took in a shaky breath. "That's one theory."

"Hermione," she said sternly.

Hermione averted her eyes, but Lily already had the truth. Hermione had never been a good liar.

"How bad?" Lily asked in a whisper. There were already tears streaming down her face, and she didn't even know half of it.

Hermione stayed quiet and moved her eyes back to Harry and James, who were laughing as they took turns jumping into the lake.

"We see them once a year," Lily said softly, "on the anniversary of my parents' death. We meet at the graveyard, then go to my sister's house for lunch. One time, when Harry and my sister's son were around five, Vernon grabbed his son by the neck and nearly threw him out of the room for - I don't remember - something stupid."

Hermione wiped away a few tears that had fallen onto her cheeks.

"Another time, the boys were around thirteen and Dudley had started attending this school that gave him a cane. He spoke out of turn over lunch and Vernon wrapped him with the cane, leaving a large welt on his leg. This was a boy Vernon was obsessed with, who was spoiled beyond belief. I hate to imagine how he'd treat a boy who-" her voice broke and she paused to wipe away her tears, "-a boy he considered a freak. A boy he never wanted. I hate to imagine it, but that's what I spent all last night doing, when I realized which Muggles Harry had likely grown up with."

Lily looked at Hermione expectantly, tears streaming down her face now. Hermione was struggling to keep her own tears at bay. "It's not my story to tell, Lily," Hermione whispered.

Lily sniffed, then straightened as she wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I have to know. So you can tell me about it - or I can ask him." She cocked her head toward the lake. "And I'm sure you can guess which will be more painful for Harry."

Hermione scowled at her. "You're very manipulative."

Lily just shrugged. "I can be. Now tell me."

Hermione sort of wanted to hex Lily, but she also understood. If Lily knew something like this about Harry, that Hermione didn't know, she'd try anything to get the information out of her, always believing that knowing something (no matter how bad) was better than not knowing. Hermione pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. "I don't know much, Lily. He doesn't talk about it."

"Tell me what you do know." She was glaring at Hermione with that determined stare she knew so well. The one she'd never figured out how to say no to.

Hermione sighed and looked toward the trees as she talked. She told Lily the little she knew. About the cupboard under the stairs and how Harry had lived there until he was eleven, with only spiders for friends. How he told her once, while they were watching Teddy and were supposed to be letting him cry himself to sleep, that he'd promised himself when he was young that he'd never ignore a crying child, as his aunt and uncle had.

Hermione told Lily how thin Harry was at the end of every summer and awful his Muggle clothes were. How he'd joked about getting hit on the head with frying pans for messing up in the kitchen and about how he'd developed fast reflexes early in life, thanks in large part to his uncle, which went on to serve him well in Quidditch."

"Stop," Lily said.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Lily looked like she'd been hit with ten Cruciatus Curses. She pulled her knees up, matching Hermione's pose, and began sobbing into her legs. Hermione placed a hand on her shoulder, unsure what else to do.

After a few moments, Lily looked up, her eyes defiant, and said, "Tell me the rest."

Hermione shook her head. "Lily. What is this helping?"

"I want to know him and this is part of it. Tell me."

Hermione bit her lip. She couldn't fault Lily's logic. It was the same reason she was always encouraging Harry to talk and open up. Simply put, she wanted to know him, everything about him (good and bad), because she loved him. As a friend, a distant voice in her mind added.

Luckily, Hermione was already through the worst of it. She spoke quickly as she told Lily about the bars on Harry's window before Second Year, and how the Weasleys had to rescue him. Then, about how Harry had blown up his aunt Marge and run away before Third Year. After that, Hermione said it got better, since Harry was finally old enough to defend himself, and stopped talking. She pulled her backpack over and rummaged around for something she could use as a handkerchief. When she looked back at Lily, she almost started crying anew.

The older witch looked completely broken. Hermione reached out and squeezed her hand. "He's fine, Lily. It was awful, I know, but he managed to break out of it. He's caring and kind and - and - has a huge heart. He turned out great, despite it all."

Lily nodded and when she looked down, a few of her tears fell onto the back of Hermione's hand. Lily turned away, probably not wanting the guys to notice her obvious distress, then she pulled herself to her feet and began pacing the area, making the birds who had settled around them fly back into the tree.

Hermione watched in awe as Lily composed herself. She figured it was the sort of skill only someone who had been through a grueling war and been forced to watch all their friends die, would have mastered. When Lily resumed her seat across from Hermione, the only hint of their earlier conversation was her eyes, which were haunted and still slightly red and puffy from crying.

"What is the morality of punishing someone in this world for something they did in another?" Lily asked.

Hermione just shook her head, not sure if this was a serious question.

"I'm asking more for James," Lily continued, "since he's probably going to kill Vernon when he hears this."

"Vernon's dead in our time," Hermione said softly. "He had a massive heart attack last year."

"Did he die instantly? Or suffer first?" Lily asked harshly.

"It was instant."

She looked disappointed. Hermione hadn't seen this side of her before. It reminded her of something Ron had said about her once, brilliant, but scary. Lily was watching Harry now and the cruel look from before was replaced with tenderness. "Did he go to the funeral?"

"Yeah." Hermione had wanted to go, but it had been after their fight following his engagement party. He'd gone with Ginny and Ron and she'd made up some excuse about work, thinking it would be best if she stayed away. He hadn't protested.

A heartbreaking smile lit up Lily's face as she continued to watch Harry. "Of course he went," she whispered. "Merlin, I love this boy. Well, man, I guess. I've just met him and I love him." She turned back to Hermione before saying, "And I'm determined to show him how much before he leaves."

"I know he'll appreciate that."

Lily reached out and placed her hand on Hermione's cheek. "If I didn't know you were going back with him and would be looking out for him and loving him in the way he truly deserves - I wouldn't be able to bear it." She leaned forward and placed a kiss on Hermione's cheek, where her hand had just been. "Thank you, again. I don't think I can say it enough."

Later that night, Harry was in the shower room, washing up before bed. Every time he caught his reflection in the mirror, he was wearing a goofy smile. He couldn't remember a day that had been this good. He'd been allowed to be himself with his parents and they'd liked him - for being him, not their son. And he'd learned more about them today than he had this whole trip.

Morad had spent the rest of the day showing them around to his favorite, lesser-known parts of the sanctuary. They'd visited the family of unicorns, flown alongside occamies on their brooms, and climbed trees with clabberts, which were a cross between a monkey and a frog.

By sunset, they'd been knackered and ready to return to the campsite, but Morad had insisted they stay to see the Hinkypunks, who only came out at night. Harry had only ever seen smaller versions of the creatures in Lupin's class, but these were much larger, as tall as James and Harry, colorful, and - surprisingly - friendly.

After that, they ate under the stars with Morad and the giant who guarded the entrance, Blunk. They listened to the giants' stories about the animals as they watched the creatures settle in for the night. Harry felt like he was on a high, like he'd downed ten mouthfuls of Felix Felices, and knew he'd remember this day for the rest of his life and would visit it in the pensieve often.

When he returned to the hall, his mum was standing there, leaning against the canvas wall. "Sorry," Harry said. "I didn't know you were waiting. I thought I was the last one."

She gave him a dismissive wave. "You are. I was waiting for you."

"Oh."

Lily bit her lip, obviously nervous about something, then she sighed and placed her hands on either side of Harry's neck, moving her fingers up along his jaw. "I know who you grew up with," she began.

Harry's mouth went dry.

"I know what it was like," she continued, tears welling in her eyes, "and I am so sorry. You needed a mother and she wasn't there. And I know there's nothing I can say to make it right. I just wanted you to know I love you and that I am so impressed with you. Each new thing I learn is more remarkable than the last (and I'm not talking about any of the war stuff). Just...you."

She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a firm hug. Harry moved his hands to her back, a little awkwardly. His thoughts were moving slowly and he was having trouble deciding what to feel right now. She leaned back and kissed his cheek, told him she loved him again, then wished him good night, leaving Harry standing alone in the hall.

His feet were heavy as he closed the short distance to his bedroom. Once he was inside and had closed the flap, he rounded on Hermione. "What is wrong with you?!" This had her name all over it. How else would his mum have known?

Hermione sighed and placed the book she was reading on the bedside table, then carefully pulled herself to her feet. She'd been waiting for this confrontation all day. She knew Lily would say something to Harry about the Dursleys and that once she did, Harry would blame Hermione for telling Lily about them. Hermione had thought she was in the clear after everyone said good night, but Lily must have cornered Harry in the hall after that. Hermione waved her wand to cast a Muffliato Charm around the room before turning to Harry.

"I didn't tell her," Hermione said calmly. "She guessed."

"The fact that you know what I'm talking about means you had some sort of conversation about it. What did you say?"

"She knew about the protective spell Dumbledore placed on your aunt and uncle's house, since he used the same sort of spell in this world, to protect Neville. She knew it was fueled by blood magic, which was how she guessed which Muggles you lived with."

"What else did you talk about?" he asked.

Hermione pressed her lips shut.

"Tell me."

"She assumed it was bad, mentioned some - uh - abusive tendencies she's observed in your uncle from this world and - she asked me to tell her what I knew about how you grew up."

"Did you?" he said coldly.

Hermione looked down at the floor. "I didn't want to. I told her it was your story to tell. But she - she said she had to know and she was either going to hear it from me or you, and I didn't want you to have to go through that. I was trying to spare you!"

Harry closed the distance between them. He waited for Hermione to lift her head before asking, "What did you tell her?"

"What I know," she breathed.

"Which is…?"

Hermione turned her head toward the window, then rattled off the list she'd told Lily. It was all Harry could do to keep from grabbing his wand and hexing her. Luckily, it was lying on the bedside table, out of reach. If he hadn't been so angry, he would have been impressed by how many details Hermione had picked out of his offhanded comments over the years. She must have really been listening.

"Fuck, Hermione!" he shouted when she was finished. She flinched slightly, which he found satisfying. Good, she should be uncomfortable. Because of her, the last few days he had with his parents were going to be an awkward mess. "You knew I didn't want them to know! And fine, maybe she figured out I was with them, but you didn't have to go telling her all of that!"

"What did you expect me to do?"

"Lie! Or at least be - less thorough." Harry groaned and dropped his head in his hand. "This is going to taint the rest of the trip, you know? She's going to tell my dad and they're going to think I'm - I'm - " He cut off, searching for the right word.

"It's not your fault that you went through that, Harry. You don't have anything to be ashamed of."

"I know that!" he cried, pointing at his chest. Then he pointed his finger toward his parents' room. "But they don't!"

"Anytime they think of it - they're going to do the same thing you and Ron and Ginny and all the other Weasleys do," he continued. "Give me that pitying look - that one you're wearing now - and treat me like something's...broken. Like I missed out on this crucial thing everyone's supposed to have and because of that - I'll never be quite whole. Poor Harry...orphan...abused...it's a wonder he can get out of bed each day...use dragonhide gloves with that one."

"I don't think that!"

Harry sighed and went to sit on the edge of the bed. "Sure you don't," he said darkly. "Maybe it's not conscious, but you think it. I can tell." He swore and dropped his head in his hands.

Harry seemed to collapse in on himself. His spine curved forward, his shoulders tensed, and he pulled his legs close together. As Hermione watched him, his words echoed through her mind. "Something's...broken. I missed out on this crucial thing everyone's supposed to have and because of that - I'll never be quite whole."

She didn't think that - not even subconsciously - but she was beginning to realize that he did. Hermione sat next to Harry on the bed. Her chest clenched when he leaned away from her slightly, but she wasn't surprised.

"You're not broken. Yes, you missed out on things, but it didn't have any lasting impact. There's nothing wrong with you."

He just snorted and kept his head down.

"I have facts to back it up," she continued, then started counting on her fingers. "In your first year at Hogwarts, you saved an annoying girl you didn't like from a troll, because it was the right thing to do. You saved a different annoying girl from a Basilisk the next year and the following year, intervened when Sirius tried to kill Peter, saving a man's life and another man's soul in one night."

Harry looked up at her, but Hermione kept her gaze forward. She touched her fourth finger. "During the Triwizard Tournament, you didn't leave the bottom of the lake until all the hostages were saved, you risked your life to return Cedric's body to his parents, and you gave your winnings to Fred and George."

Hermione touched her seventh finger. "You risked everything to save Sirius, you buried Dobby by hand, you saved Malfoy in the Room of Requirement." She paused and looked at Harry, who had silent tears falling down his face. "I'm running out of fingers, so I'll end with how you gave up the Elder Wand. I can keep going though - if you want."

Harry shook his head.

Hermione sighed. "This is all proof that you're whole, Harry. You had a bad childhood, but it didn't break you. You're one of the most whole people I know."

"You really think so?" he whispered.

"Yes."

He let out a long breath, then wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. "It's hard to stay angry with you after a speech like that," he said into his lap.

"That was the point."

He turned his head and gave her a sad smile. "Sorry I yelled. It sounds like my mum backed you into a corner."

"Yeah."

"But I think she was bluffing when she said she was going to ask me for details if you didn't tell her."

"Yeah. I realized that later. She's very cunning." Harry let out a breath of a laugh. "We talked about Snape too," Hermione added. "I can tell you what she said."

"Oh - yeah. I'd like to hear that. Later, though. I don't want to talk about Snape right now."

They shared a smile and just like that, something shifted in the air between them. The distance separating them, which had felt heavy and almost solid a few moments ago, seemed to dissolve to almost nothing. A curl fell into Hermione's face and Harry reached forward and pushed it behind her ear, brushing her cheek with his fingers.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, letting his hand linger near her face. "I know I tell you when you're all dressed up, but I should say it more because I'm thinking it all the time."

Hermione looked down as a warmth spread up her neck. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."

Harry shifted closer to her, so their legs were touching, then lifted her chin with his hand and whispered, "I want to kiss you."

This was only half of it. He didn't just want to kiss her. He wanted to remember what she tasted like. He wanted to press his lips to her pulse point, then find the sensitive spots on her neck - the ones that would make her shudder. He wanted to soak in that maddening scent of hers. He wanted to reach under her shirt and cup her breasts. Push her onto the bed...press her into the mattress...

"She's Ron's fiancée! Not yours!" a voice cried from the back of his mind. But it was weak.

Harry leaned forward and paused just shy of her mouth, so close he could feel her breath on his lips. He closed his eyes and placed a hand on her neck, then shifted forward. As soon as his lips brushed against hers, she stopped him, placing a hand on his chest. "We can't."

"You feel it. You have to," he said, keeping his face just inches from hers.

"I do," she admitted. She sighed and rested her forehead against his. "It's like, I never really knew how accurate the word 'attraction' was until now. We seem to be...drawn to each other."

Harry smiled. This was the closest she'd come to admitting she felt anything for him. But she ruined it with her next statement.

"It's these bodies we're in. They seem to...long for each other. And emotions are high. That doesn't help." She carefully shifted away from him.

"No," Harry said clearly. "It's more. For me, at least, it's more."

Hermione frowned and shook her head.

Harry was getting annoyed now. Why was she so determined to ignore this?! "Do you really think this is just going to go away when we're back? That we're really going to be able to pretend nothing happened here and continue our lives like normal?"

"Yes. That's exactly what we're going to do. These feelings, or whatever, will pass."

"What if they don't?" he challenged.

"Not long ago, you were completely hung up on Ginny. Now…it's like you've forgotten who she is. It'll be the same with this. You'll move on."

Harry flinched. Fuck, that hurt. "I love Ginny but I - I'm not sure -" He paused to take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've been thinking of what you said at our engagement party. About me marrying Ginny because I thought that's what I was supposed to do. And you told me I should own the decision and I-" He paused, then cringed before saying, "I don't think it's what I want. I can't come up with a solid reason why I decided to marry her."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "What are you saying? You're going to break up with Ginny?"

"How can I possibly marry her with this -" He motioned to the space between them. "I wouldn't want her marrying me if she felt this way for someone else."

Hermione shook her head. She began pacing the room, speaking quickly now. "No, Harry. Don't put this on me. If you want to break up with Ginny, you do that for your own reasons. And make sure you've really thought through what that would entail. You'd have to tell her the wedding she's been planning for months isn't happening. You'd have to tell her why. You'd have to tell Ron, then the rest of the Weasleys. The papers would have a field day with it. Then you'd have the awkwardness of splitting up your mutual friends. You'd have to cancel every wedding plan one by one…"

Harry got the feeling this wasn't the first time Hermione was considering what it would be like to call off a wedding. "I'm willing to put up with some inconveniences to avoid marrying the wrong person," he countered.

She stopped pacing and said sharply. "And who's the right person? Me?! Are you hearing yourself?"

Harry sneered, trying to summon anger to cover up the pain her words had incited. "And what about you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'm marrying Ron."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?"

"What more is there to say? I made a promise to marry him and I intend to keep that promise. He's a wonderful person and our best friend and he doesn't deserve to lose his fiancée in the blink of an eye."

"He doesn't deserve to enter into a marriage with a witch who has feelings for someone else!" Harry gestured toward the bed, where they'd been sitting just moments ago, about to kiss each other. Where she'd stared at him with a look of longing that rivaled only his own desperate desire for her.

Hermione crossed her arms. "I didn't say I had feelings for you. I said I felt drawn to you. In this body, in this world. You're having a crisis and seem determined to drag me down with you."

"So are you! That's why we're here!"

Hermione set her jaw and stayed quiet.

"You said you were looking for something more in your life, then went hopping to another dimension to find it. And who did you bring with you? Me! Not Ron, me! And now we're here, we can't keep ourselves away from each other and you - you're ignoring it. You said you wanted to burn everything down. Well, you did it. Everything's on fire and now you're running and hiding. Why?" Harry sighed and stepped closer to her. He grabbed her hand. "When have you ever run away from hard things?"

She pulled her hand out of his and said in a rough voice, "When I'm at risk of losing everything."

"You didn't do that in the war. You stayed. You fought. How were you not at risk of losing everything then?"

She dragged her eyes back up to meet his and the expression there was pleading as she breathed, "I still had you."

Harry froze. The air between them thickened again. He felt like she was so close, yet also, miles away from him. She was telling him she liked him back, wasn't she? But she was also determined to go back to Ron.

"I want to stop pretending to be your fiancée," she said softly. "I'm telling your parents the truth tomorrow. There's no need to keep pretending and then - then I want to sleep on the couch downstairs."

Harry couldn't decide if he wanted to cry or yell, so settled on a dejected sigh. "Why are you so determined to fight this? Just - tell me plainly. Please."

Hermione looked away from him as she said, "I don't think it'll last past this trip. And I'm - I'm not willing to give everything up on a whim. You shouldn't either."

"You're convinced this is a whim." He took up her hand again and linked their fingers together. "This feels like a whim to you?"

She looked at their entwined fingers for a long time, before dropping his hand and turning toward the bed. "Yes. We should sleep. We have an early start."

She climbed into the bed and buried herself in the blankets. When Harry climbed in next to her, she muttered, "Protego." A thin shield appeared between them.

"I'm not going to grab you in the middle of the night," Harry said sarcastically.

"It's just a precaution," she replied, her voice warped by the magical barrier.

"The fact that we need a bloody Shield Charm to stay away from each other means this is more than a whim."

She didn't say anything and just shifted further under her blankets.

Harry barely slept that night. A few hours later, the Shield Charm dissolved and Harry turned and looked at Hermione, whose back was to him. He'd picked apart their entire argument several times and decided that either she didn't feel the same way he did and was hesitant to say so, not wanting to hurt his feelings, or she was scared.

He was pretty sure it was the latter. If it was the former, she'd have put him out of his misery by now. She was worried he would change his mind once they were back and also worried about the fallout. Harry sighed as he rolled onto his back. He was scared of those things too. Ron, more specifically. Would he understand? No. Definitely not.

But what was Harry supposed to do? Ignore his feelings for Hermione? All to protect Ron's feelings? Hadn't he been putting Ron first for years? Wasn't that part of the reason Hermione didn't trust him? And Ginny… Was he really going to break up with her? She'd be devastated.

These questions continued to swirl in his mind for hours. He didn't reach a conclusion before exhaustion finally caught up to him.

A/N: Okay. Harry just cycled through a lot of different emotions there in a short amount of time. Poor guy. Keep fighting for her, Harry! You can do this!

Note: If the emotional cheating component of this story is uncomfortable to you, I suggest moving on. It will only get worse from here. Telling me how much you dislike it isn't going to make me change the story I plan to write. Sorry (but not really...at all). And to all of you who have been incredibly supportive of this story so far, thank you! Your comments mean the world to me.

If you like this sort of story (angsty Harmony) and want to join like-minded readers and authors who love complicated HHr, come join our Discord! I can't paste the link here, since FFN hates outside links, but you can find it at the bottom of this same chapter on AO3.

Also, this is not going to be 25 chapters, like I said before. Probably closer to 30, but not much longer than that. Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be posted Sun, Nov-21.