A/N: It is with great and humble pleasure I finally am able to present the finished version of this work. I published it a handful of years ago, half-finished, sharp and rough around the edges. The ending wasn't what I wanted, a lot of the topics were handled poorly, and I just wasn't happy with it. It loomed over my head until this year, when I'd finally had enough and decided to re-write the thing entirely. It is now a whopping twenty-nine chapters long including this prologue and three epilogues, almost 70000 words, and something I'm truly proud of. Anything related to this story previous to 6/28/2022 is due to the old version. For this one, you've got no idea what's in store. The beginning might be the same, but the end? I'd call it a treat. I truly hope you all enjoy, especially if you're back for round two.
(This will also be cross-published on my wattpad account: alover_forSnape, I am not plagiarizing myself. Any other sources you may find however, feel free to report. PS: As this is a fanfiction site, any other disclaimers go without saying.)
Harry would break the handle on his tea cup if Hermione hummed one more time. He was at the edge of his high-top chair waiting for her to finish his auto-biography, the last few pages seeming to take her longer than the rest of the bloody thing combined.
"Come on, Hermione," he moaned, somewhat of a warning, but it was mostly just a desperate plea.
The warm, summer sun was starting to get to him, only hitting one side of his body but scorching all of his nerves. The crowded café they were in wasn't helping either, and he envied Hermione's unresponsive coolness.
This woman was the epitome of grace, but all Harry could do was mess with his hair or his empty cup, or his discarded Ministry robes. He looked out the window hoping something interesting would be going on. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, there was quite the afternoon bustle in the alley, but the one good thing he managed to catch was the sight of some clouds rolling to offer him a reprieve from the sun.
When he turned back, the last page was between Hermione's fingers, and she smirked as he let out all the air in his lungs.
"It's very good Harry," she said, closing the plethora of papers that made up his manuscript. "I adore the way you try and give Ron and I far more credit than we deserve."
Harry let a shaky laugh pass; he knew there had to be more.
"There is a 'but' coming, I reckon?"
"But," she confirmed with an eager grin, "You need an editor."
"You sound like you're volunteering."
"I thought you'd never ask," Hermione said, setting the manuscript down and pulling a red pen seemingly from nowhere.
"At least wait until I'm not here," Harry said, his tone of terror a little out of control for his taste. "I would hate to witness you tearing it apart, I'd prefer to feel my scar burn again."
She only pursed her lips and relinquished with a small muttering about commas.
"But you really think it's good? I tried to make it more factual than anything, knowing how the papers take things, but there's some funny parts too…"
"Yes, Harry. It's got what it needs to be great, I just need to refine it is all. Promise."
Hermione grabbed his hands and squeezed tight making Harry feel confident in this whole auto-biography idea once again.
He looked out the window more as Hermione started to go on about how someone like Neville or Ginny should do a forward for him, feeling the clouds finally cover the sun and provide his burning left side some relief. It didn't take long for him to lose focus on her, and though he felt bad about it, something was definitely amiss.
Hermione noticed his Auror-look and understood without a word.
She played it calmly, picking up her wand to mindlessly file through the pages of his book, but her eyes were on him.
"What do you see?"
He turned back to her but never really let his gaze come off the edge of Diagon Alley. He'd spotted something.
"Someone trying to hide. Wand in hand, dark-gray cloak, hood up, suspiciously focused on this shop. Can't tell any features besides normal build and on the taller side."
Hermione was able to get a look as the figure got closer while Harry occupied himself with his empty cup, then he was nearly choked when she grabbed his shirt and yanked them under the ledge of the window that shattered as a curse flew through it.
Harry groaned and muttered, "Thanks," before propping himself up on the ledge. He threw two spells in the time it took for her to join him at his side.
The figure was quick and seemed to be unbothered as the crowd screamed and vacated the area via apparition. When people saw Harry, the opposite tended to happen, flooded with usually younger witches and wizards who wanted him to sign their chocolate frog cards.
This was an all-out skirmish.
Harry asked Hermione to cover him and let her land a few powerful spells before moving around and shimmying out of the café, rounding on the figure. Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough, and Hermione got hit by a rebounding spell before he could start his own attack on the figure.
Too stunned and worried over her safety to protect himself from the next attack, Harry's wand-arm was hit with a barrage of what felt like flaming swords before he fell to the ground.
Turning, his attacker grabbed the manuscript off their unbothered table, and Harry cursed, attempting to cast something with his left hand, but unable to reach his wand in time. He'd never had such a discouraging fight, and his wounded pride and stinging shoulder let him suffer another spell, this one doing him in.
Falling back onto the cobblestone of Diagon Alley, Harry slid off into unconsciousness.