Chapter Twelve - Anticipation If pleasures are greatest in anticipation, just remember that this is also true of trouble. - Elbert Hubbard
"GRANGER TRIAL TOMORROW" read the top headline. He sighed and set the parchment roll down, knowing that he'd read it later. He looked over at his desk. His neatly ordered research on time travel was now strewn over its surface and the floor. It would be another late night of working after he served his detention. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to decide what to do. He still had to go down to the dungeons to help Professor Snape with some gross task or another. The detentions he served with the various Hogwarts professors ranged from almost enjoyable to downright disgusting. He had learned a great deal over the past month during his detentions and was thankful that was the only long-term punishment the school had given him. He had been suspended from attending classes until after Christmas and had been confined to the IMS common room. He had missed the first snowfall and watched from the windows as his friends joined in various snowball fights out on the lawn. It had been a meek punishment for his actions, this much he knew.
Of course, Draco Malfoy was healed quickly by Madame Pomfrey after Harry had thrown him back against the stone steps. A crowd had gathered quickly around them as many had heard the shouting in the hall. Professors McGonagall and Sinistra had stopped the bleeding from Malfoy's head and Sinistra had levitated him to the hospital wing. Professor McGonagall's face had been grave as she'd escorted him to Professor Dumbledore's office. He had stood, shaking, in front of the Headmaster's desk as Dumbledore spoke to Lucius Malfoy over the fireplace. Draco's father had been furious, shouting through the popping flames that he would have Harry brought up on assault charges and that he would be arriving at Hogwarts in a matter of hours to collect his son. Harry had sat in Dumbledore's silent office waiting for him to arrive.
Dumbledore did not even look at him as he went about his daily work. After what felt like years of waiting, a small charm lit on Dumbledore's desk and Harry heard the stone staircase begin to move. He held his breath until Lucius Malfoy stormed into the office, brandishing a long, black cane as his midnight cloak swished around him.
"Dumbledore!" he had shouted at the top of his lungs. "How can you allow such insolence to happen at this school?!"
Harry had never seen Lucius so violently enraged before. His tone was usually even, although menacing. This time, his eyes were wild with fury as Dumbledore stared evenly at him.
"You may take your son. Draco has been suspended until the end of term for fighting."
"You cannot suspend him!"
"As far as you are concerned, Mr Malfoy, you have no say in the matter. You are no longer a Governor of this school."
"And what about Potter here?" Lucius Malfoy was seething. The redness of his face extended into the pale blond hairline and if the situation had not been so dire, Harry would have laughed.
"Harry has been suspended as well and will also be serving detention until the end of summer term."
"I'll see you at the trial," Malfoy had growled. He had turned swiftly, the cloaks billowing again. Harry could hear his shoes smacking against the stone staircase for his entire descent.
He'd turned to look at Dumbledore, who merely nodded to him.
"You do understand, Harry, the severity of what you have done?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you also understand that it is very hard for me to punish you, knowing what Draco has done?"
He had been shocked at Dumbledore's words when he said them, and now, several weeks later in his own dorm room, they still surprised him. The general reactions of the teachers had been all but non-existent. It didn't seem to bother many of them that Harry had fought with Draco. He had dreaded his first detention with Snape, expecting that the man would hex him to next Christmas, but his potions professor had surprised him. He had been silent about Harry's punishment and occasionally engaged him in cordial conversation.
He pulled himself out of his thoughts and began gathering the papers together. Arabella was still giving him research and after a few weeks, Dumbledore had given him permission to go to the library. Draco was still out of school and Harry suspected that he was probably not getting assignments from Arabella. He checked his watch and realised he was due in the dungeons in ten minutes. He quickly shuffled the papers to the side of his desk and placed a locking charm over the owl-delivered parchment.
He pulled his robes on and grabbed the dragon-hide gloves that were usually required for his work before kissing Hermione's forehead and heading towards the dungeon. The walk to the dungeons wasn't very solemn. Most students had stayed at Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday and the families and younger children staying in the castle were walking about, intermingled with the regular students. He was awakened early that morning with Hermione, Ginny, Padma and Ron to celebrate Christmas with the children that they had continued teaching. Harry had been sad when the young ones were taken from IMS, but he understood the reasoning. After his fight with Draco, he had been ashamed to teach them, knowing that hat he had done was a terrible model for their behaviour. Hermione had eventually persuaded him to continue helping with the classes, as they were already short one person, and the students had been thrilled to have him back. The severity of the incident with Draco seemed lost on them and he'd found the lessons to be a much needed break from all the work Arabella had been assigning him.
He checked his watch again and quickened his pace. It had been the busiest Christmas Day he'd had in ages. After the morning in the family quarters, they had returned to IMS for a gift exchange of their own. Harry had then set about work on research for Arabella and Hermione had fallen asleep as he worked. After his detention, there was to be the usual Christmas Feast, followed by a meeting with Dumbledore and the rest of the Order. He knew it was probably better that it be an early night, but he also knew there was still much planning to be done for the trial tomorrow. He sighed. They had very little in Hermione's defence without knowing fully the charges brought against her. Snape had spoken to many of his contacts and the overall impression they received was that Hermione was to be used as an example, both for the muggleborns and for those pureblood wizards still in doubt of the Muggleborn Laws. After word of Hermione's trial had spread the far reaches of Wizarding Britain, owls had begun to pour in, offering assistance, advice and support. From there, Dumbledore and the Order had the information they needed about what sort of opposition there was within the pureblood wizarding community.
Snape had made weekly reports that had been sent to the Order Operatives and his numbers had been scary. There were growing amounts of people willing to help Connelly's side. Groups of wizards and witches had begun sprouting up across the country and they were the unofficial police of Connelly's government. They were mostly young wizards, just out of school and suffering under the current economy because of lack of available jobs. Many of the wizards had been forced to work in the Muggle community, something that many were furious about.
There was a growing resistance, however. The parchment he had received earlier was a small communication from other parts of Wizarding Britain. Each week, he received this small newsletter-type correspondence that included the status of the resistance in different parts of the country. Many people received them, he knew. It had quickly become an underground newspaper, which showed a great deal of promise for their side. In the South, near London, the resistance was large. Fights had frequently broken out in the street between muggleborns and pureblood wizards or between purebloods and the Death Eaters that were being used as Connelly's army. The instigators of the fights or rather, the side that was against Connelly's government, were not sent to Azkaban, but to another prison, located somewhere near Manchester. It was newly erected, Harry knew, designed solely for those that had broken the Muggleborn Laws or any of the other lesser charges brought forth by the government.
He had reached Snape's dungeon as he'd mulled over his thoughts and was surprised to find the Potions Master seated at his desk with a few scarce parchments scattered about him. Normally, there would be a large barrel positioned next to one of the tables with beetles that needed tended to or a large stack of used cauldrons that needed to be washed. However, the room was sparkling clean. He looked oddly at Professor Snape who had only just noticed him.
"Is there something I can help you with Potter?"
"Detention, sir."
"Are you offering?" Snape's look did not change, but Harry was surprised at the humour in his tone.
"Sir?"
"It's Christmas, Potter. Go back to your dorm."
"Alright. Are you coming to the meeting tonight?"
Snape nodded. He was not officially a member of the Order, but he was one of many operatives that assisted in their various missions. His contacts within the ranks of the Death Eaters had proved invaluable countless times. The others that helped were mostly teachers, but they had helped quell the problems that arose between muggleborn and pureblood students. He had seen several fights in the hallways and had heard the word 'mudblood' on more than one occasion. Initially, he'd been upset with McGonagall and Arabella's decision to remove the younger children from IMS, but after the behaviour of many students, ones that weren't even in IMS, he'd been glad they had been removed from the tumultuous setting of the school.
"I'll see you at dinner," Snape said, his tone now solemn.
Harry was not looking forward to the Feast tonight, especially with the knowledge of what was happening tomorrow. He nodded and turned to head back to IMS.
Hermione was sitting cross-legged on his bed, her own copy of the delivered parchment in her hands. IMS common room was completely quiet; he guessed that many of the students had gone back to their own houses to spend the day.
"Hey," she said, without looking up, as he walked in the room.
"Is there anything interesting in there?" he asked, nodding at the parchment. "I haven't looked through it yet."
"Just the trial, for the most part. There was a huge brawl at a pub in Leeds on Monday, but that's about all."
He watched her for a few moments, searching for some sort of reaction about the trial. She had become mostly silent about the fact that it was even happening and she seemed almost resigned to the inevitable. He knew that tonight was going to be difficult. They were finalising her defence. "How are you doing, Hermione?" he asked quietly.
She looked up at him, as if judging what exactly he meant by his question. She sighed after a few moments and shook her head. "I honestly don't know. I don't know what to expect or what to feel. It seems so..." she trailed off for a few moments, "surreal," she said finally. "I just--just can't believe it's even happening."
He went over to her and sat down as she wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling against his chest. He kissed the top of her head, holding her close and sighed at the feeling of holding her. Their contact had been limited over the past few weeks, due to the amount of work he had and general feelings of awkwardness. Her tears had stopped flowing quickly, but she seemed closed off to everyone, even him. Often, she didn't return to their dorm until after eleven o'clock at night, long past the time the library closed.
"I've missed you," she said, after ten minutes of silence.
He smiled and hugged her tighter. "I've missed you too."
She pulled away from him and smiled. "So, no detention this afternoon?"
He shook his head.
"Can you spare a bit of time to go outside? There's a huge snowball fight out there."
"I'm not sure--"
"Ah, no one will say anything. Your suspension is practically over and you were only confined here during term. Please." Her eyes were begging him as she clasped her hands against her chest.
He laughed. "Alright. I guess I can spare some time."
She grinned and flung her arms around his neck. "Oh, Harry. Wonderful. Let me go get my robes and things. I'll meet you in a few minutes."
She practically ran from his room and he was surprised to see her so excited about going outside. He knew, however, that she hadn't been leaving the castle to go out either. He pulled his heavy winter robes from the wardrobe, charming them for extra warmth, and grabbed his gloves and scarf. Hermione was waiting for him, a stocking hat pulled over her curly hair, causing it to stick out at odd angles. She looked undeniably cute standing there, all dressed to play in the snow and he couldn't help but pull her into a huge hug.
There were countless students on the grounds, all laughing and throwing snow balls at one another. Ron and Ginny had helped construct a large snow-fort, very much in the style of the twins, and were surrounded by a bunch of younger students, all of them waging war against a group of Gryffindors. There were students from all the houses out, but there was a definite division between them that went beyond house lines. There were Gryffindors mixed with Hufflepufs and Ravenclaws, but he also noticed that there were a few students from each house mixed in with the Slytherins. Over the past weeks, his assumptions about the culture of the wizarding world had been largely shaken. Many pureblood families didn't mix with the Death Eaters, that much was certain, but they still held some grudges of those with muggle blood. He saw now that these grudges passed down the generations and he felt a wave of sadness wash over him, wondering if it would ever change.
His thoughts were interrupted as a large snowball smashed into his shoulder, spraying snow over his face and glasses. He sputtered, looking to see where it had come from. Ginny was standing on top of their snow fort, a mischievous look on her face. Her wand was held out, charming the snow in front of her into a dozen snowballs.
He ducked as they sailed towards him and he heard Hermione laughing as he bent close to the ground. The others involved in the snow battle were all laughing as Ginny grinned down at him. He looked up at her, laughing and shaking his head. He waved his hand over the ground, causing a few snowballs to jump in the air, and sent then flying in her direction. This seemed to signal an all-out war and soon, others joined in. Some were using magic to make snowballs and others were merely packing them with their hands and heaving them at whoever was closest. There were no sides and every person was on his or her own. Hermione was standing behind the fortress, packing snow tightly before flinging it out onto the other students. Harry was in the middle of the battlefield, aiming primarily for Ron, who was sending snowballs back at him.
He was laughing as they all fought, enjoying the freedom to be young. For the first time in probably two or three years, he felt young. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione sneaking towards them, a snowball raised high over her head. She was aiming for Ron, who was being distracted greatly by Padma raining a shower of loose snow on him. Padma must have noticed Hermione approaching because she giggled and stopped the falling snow. Ron looked at her oddly for a moment for turning his head, just as Hermione threw the snowball at him.
The snowball hit Ron right on the forehead and he stumbled a bit, looking stunned. He blinked several times and reached a wet glove up to wipe his face. Hermione stood, frozen, her snowball obviously landing off-target. Padma was looking at Ron, wide-eyed and Harry waited to see what his reaction would be. He realised he was holding his breath when Ron looked evenly at Hermione, white snow glistening in his hair.
"Well, now, that wasn't very lady-like."
Hermione seemed to sigh before she began laughing. Harry let out his breath and joined her. He could see Ron shaking with held-in laughter and Padma was just shaking her head at the three of them. Harry walked over towards Hermione and put his arm around her, laughing as she clutched her stomach, her cheeks rosy. Ron shook his head at the pair of them and walked over. Harry didn't see him scoop up some snow but he gasped as Ron plopped a large snowball on his head, hitting Hermione as well. Harry gasped as the icy snow slid down his collar and against his back.
Hermione's eyes were wide before she grinned. "That's war, Ronald Weasley."
They trudged inside forty-five minutes later, laughing at one another as they pounded their feet on the stone stairs, attempting to take off some of the snow. Hermione's curls were tangled and wet and Harry's hair was even messier than usual. Hermione peeled her gloves off and intertwined her fingers with Harry's. He grinned at her, squeezing her fingers. Ron and Padma were walking ahead of them, chattering away about nothing in particular. Hermione's skin was glowing and she looked genuinely happy for the first time in months. When they stood at the door to IMS, he pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her soundly.
"I love you, Hermione Granger. Merry Christmas."
A large grin broke out on her face before she replied, "I love you too. And Merry Christmas."
They linked arms and walked into the common room, which was bright with a large fire burning in the hearth. A tall Christmas tree flanked the stone fireplace, ornamented by projects the young students had done. Everyone else had just come inside and there were scarves, gloves and boots piled by the fire, drying off. Harry dropped his things onto the ledge and headed towards his room, knowing that Hermione was following him.
He immediately walked to his desk, knowing that he should read the paper delivered earlier but not wanting to spoil his mood. Hermione closed the door behind her and scrambled up onto his bed, carrying a towel in her arms. She began drying her hair with it and looked at him, smiling.
"Are you looking forward to the Feast tonight? So many people have stayed on for the holidays."
He nodded slowly and sat in bed next to her. "I just hope that it stays festive. I'm not looking forward to the meeting tonight, at all."
Hermione grimaced. "I wish it didn't have to be so soon after Christmas. I feel so unprepared. I--"
He held a finger against her lips. "Let's enjoy this while we can. There's plenty of time to worry later."
She sighed and nodded. "You're right."
Harry jumped off his bed and walked towards his wardrobe. He opened one of the doors and pulled open the top drawer.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked from the bed.
"I have your Christmas present."
"Do you think we could do presents later tonight? Maybe it will make the mood lighter after the meeting. "
He nodded and closed the door, disappointed that he couldn't give her the gift he'd been waiting to give her since he'd had Ami take care of it in November. Hermione smiled at him briefly before standing up and crossing the room to slide her arms around his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him and breathing in the smell of her hair, shampoo mingled with the damp smell of snow. He kissed the top of her head.
"We should get ready for the feast. I feel chilled to the bone," she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.
He released her, nodding. "I'll meet you in half an hour, alright?"
She smiled and nodded, standing on her tip toes to kiss him gently on the lips.
Harry drew in a deep breath as the entered the Great Hall. The teachers seemed to have done a little extra this year, perhaps to take minds off of current events. The Hall was done up in a style that Harry had seen in old Christmas movies his aunt liked to watch. Near the head table, two monstrous Christmas trees stood in two corners of the room. They were decorated in strings of popcorn and cranberries. There were large poinsettias dotting the trees and flickering candles floating just on the branches. As was the usual fair, a gentle snow was falling near the roof and garland stretched across the rooms, bearing small, shimmering lights. The smell of pine and cinnamon floated through the room, invading Harry's nose and making him feel immensely warm.
The four house tables remained, but as he had seen outside, the house lines were the defining element anymore. Copious amounts of students mixed in with other houses and the families staying at Hogwarts were spread amongst them. The teachers were already seated as Harry and Hermione joined the mostly Gryffindor table on the far side of the room.
The Gryffindor students were discussing an examination they'd had just before the holiday began. Harry listened intently to their conversation about schooling this year and part of him wished he'd stayed in the regular Hogwarts lessons.
Neville Longbottom was explaining to Hermione a potion they had been working on just before term ended. She interrupted him part way though and shook her head. "I just can't believe you chose to continue studying Potions. Herbology, I can understand, and even Transfiguration to an extent, but I thought you hated Potions?"
"Last year, it just began to make sense to me," was he reply. He shrugged and continued talking about the effects of wormswood mixed with snake skin.
Harry turned his head away from their conversation as he heard a soft clinking sound. Dumbledore was standing at the head table, tapping lightly on his goblet. The others in the Hall gradually quieted and turned their attention to Dumbledore.
"I would like to extend my gratitude to those of you who decided to stay at Hogwarts this year. During times like these, it amazes me to see that even in our differences, we can come together to enjoy the most simple of life's pleasures. Please, enjoy your meals and a very Happy Christmas."
Everyone in the room burst into applause, understanding the meaning behind Dumbledore's simple message. Hermione's hand was on his leg and she squeezed gently as she looked at him, smiling happily. He leaned in and kissed her gently, the need to do so completely overtaking him. The lightest pressure met his lips before she pulled away, her face pink as the Gryffindors showered them in a chorus of 'Ooohs' and 'Awws'. Harry laughed and grabbed her hand as the table filled with food. He looked at the giant roasted turkeys and hams, surrounded by potatoes and vegetables. Trays of steaming hot chipolatas and bowls of thick gravy helped to cover nearly every inch of the table. Hermione passed him a pitcher of pumpkin juice and he poured himself a goblet of the orange drink before passing it on to Ron. A large bowl of stuffing was being passed to him from one side as someone passed a platter of turkey from the other. His plate was soon full and he found his mouth was watering, eager as he was to eat.
Ron was dipping pieces of turkey into his mashed potatoes before shovelling the fork load into his mouth. He grinned at Harry, the awkwardness between them the past few months seemed to have disappeared, at least for the day. Harry spooned up some carrots after returning his friend's smile, once again surprised at his feelings of contents despite what tomorrow held.
"What do you mean; you didn't think he screwed up?" Dean Thomas was saying loudly, cutting into Harry's thoughts.
"I don't think he didn't screw up, I just don't understand what the big deal is," Ron replied.
"He missed a bloody penalty kick!"
"But it's just football."
Dean sputtered. "How would you feel if one of your Cannons missed the winning goal?"
Ron shrugged. "I'd be angry sure, but that happened this past summer."
"We would have won the semi-finals against Germany!"
"Like I said, mate, it's just football. You ought to focus more on Quidditch."
"I would, if there was any Quidditch to be played."
Ron shrugged and went back to stuffing food in his mouth.
"I read about that in the Times," Hermione said, looking at Dean.
Dean nodded. "Bloody madness."
Hermione nodded. "I'm sure my dad was furious. He's absolutely mad about football."
"Has he seen Quidditch?" Ron burst in.
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but seemed to think better of it and just shook her head.
"He should come to a match," Seamus said.
"He can't," Hermione replied, shaking her head.
"Oh. Yeah, that's right."
"Oy! Dean!" called Parvati from farther down the table. "Have you finished with the papers yet?"
Lavender hit Parvati on the shoulder. "Quiet, you'll get us in trouble."
"Papers?" asked Hermione curiously.
Lavender and Seamus nodded simultaneously. "We've been getting some of the muggle newspapers, trying to see if any there's anything peculiar going on," Lavender explained.
"But how?"
Lavender shrugged. "Professor McGonagall."
"Professor McGonagall?" replied Ron loudly. Harry grimaced as a few faces turned to look in their direction.
"Quiet, prat," Harry hissed.
Lavender just shook her head. "Dean asked her. She brings us three. The Times, the Guardian and the Independent."
Hermione's eyes were wide. "Do you save them?"
"I've been clipping the interesting parts and getting rid of the rest."
"Could I see them?" Hermione whispered conspiratorially.
Lavender nodded. "I'll bring them round day after next, when things have settled down."
"But tomorrow--"
"Aye, Hermione, I know what tomorrow is. Like I said, I'll bring them round day after next."
Hermione looked oddly at Lavender for a moment before looking at Harry, who shrugged.
The room was not dark, as it normally was during their meetings. The massive table was covered with large books, pads of parchments, countless quills and several ink wells. The remains of a Christmas dinner were on a table in the corner of the room. Rick, Rachel, Ami, Arabella, and Remus were seated around the table, silently working, when Harry, Hermione and Dumbledore entered the room. They all looked up at the entering group and set their quills down, each stretching or yawning. Rachel shook her head and smiled slightly.
"How was your dinner?" She smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening as she did so. She'd aged some in the past few months. He expected it was the recent events that had caused the change in her looks and noticing the difference prompted him to survey the others.
The changes in Rick Granger weren't nearly as noticeable as Harry didn't see him as much as he saw Hermione's mum. The grey in his hair had deepened considerably and he looked smaller, somehow. He was slumped in his chair, a pair of wire-rim, silver glass dangling loosely from the hand he was using to pinch the bridge of his nose. He looked tired, unshaven and weary.
Ami's normally tidy blonde hair was piled messily on the top of her head, held in place with a pair of muggle pencils. She was wearing muggle clothes; a large jumper over a pair of blue jeans that looked aged and worn but very comfortable. Arabella was dressed similarly and was stretching her arms over her head as she looked at Harry, Hermione and Dumbledore.
It was in Remus that Harry noticed the most significant change. His mind wandered to third year, when he'd first seen Lupin on the train. He remembered his tatty, but clean robes and the flecks of grey hair that dotted his head. His eyes had sparkled during lessons and he'd seemed genuinely thrilled each day to be teaching. Now, his dark eyes were dull and purplish shadows were visible under his eyes. His hair was much greyer than Harry had ever seen it and he looked older. He supposed it was to do with the hiding that he'd been doing since the previous fall, when he'd been accused in Fudge's murder. Sirius, Harry knew, had changed after that as well. They faced a grave penalty if ever caught and the chances of that happening seemed more likely as time passed on. Harry knew that much of the look in Lupin's eyes attributed to the situations facing the wizarding world.
Dumbledore spoke up suddenly, motioning Harry and Hermione to take seats. "What is the plan for tomorrow?" he asked immediately.
Rachel sighed audibly, pushing her lips out as the air passed through them. "Well, we have the list of people being questioned. We have the formal charges and we have our counters to each charge. As for what the Ministry will be presenting, I honestly have no clue. You remember how it was…" she trailed off, shaking her head and looking down at the parchment in front of her.
Dumbledore didn't say anything and turned to Remus, who shook his head. "They're calling witnesses and we have no idea what questions they'll be asked."
"Don't the witnesses get interviewed?" Hermione spoke up.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Perhaps I ought to explain how your trial will pan out Hermione. It's very different from any muggle court proceedings." He pulled out one of the chairs across from where Harry and Hermione were seated, moving aside some of the parchments and books. "If I remember correctly, a muggle trial volleys back and forth between either side. The prosecution will start, for example, by questioning a witness. Then, the defence would get to question that same witness, immediately afterward."
"How will it be tomorrow?" Hermione asked.
"Well, in the muggle world, it is pretty typical that the law is 'innocent until proven guilty'. Here, the prosecution, in this case, the Ministry of Magic will begin the trial by offering a list of the charges brought against you. They discuss various things that play into your character and your life thus far as a muggleborn witch. After they have made their case, it is up to us to prove that you are not guilty."
"Guilty until proven innocent," Hermione answered quietly.
"So what's our defence?" Harry asked.
"Well, we know the charges. We've been researching similar cases and trying to get what our odds are. Dumbledore has explained many of the events of the past few years to us. We don't know what they know."
"How is this a fair trial?" Harry asked, anger tingeing his voice.
"I don't think it's meant to be," Remus answered him. "How could you expect it to be?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just expected better than this."
"What for?" Remus responded. "For the many amazing things magic can do, we balance it out by being completely old fashioned. This current situation is evidence of that. No matter how much we grow and change, there is always that ancient fear. That's really what this boils down to. They want the people, the jury, to be afraid of Hermione."
Dumbledore shook his head. "There will be no jury," he said solemnly.
"What?" Hermione's tone was incredulous.
"The Minister of Magic will be presiding. He alone will determine your fate."
His words fell on disbelieving ears as the door to the chamber opened. Severus Snape walked in, carrying a sheaf of parchments.
"What have you found?" Ami asked.
He tossed the parchments onto the table. "List of the witnesses and some suspected questions. They're really going all out here." Dumbledore pulled the top parchment towards him and Harry saw him frown.
"Draco Malfoy. Ronald Weasley. Harry Potter."
Harry slammed the door to his dorm as soon as he entered. Hermione seated herself on the bed, taking deep breaths and wiping at her eyes.
"How can they do this? Don't I have to agree to testify?"
"Apparently not," Hermione said quietly.
"I don't see how any of this is fair. Are you going to be called to the witness stand? Why even have a trial? Why don't they just cart you off now?"
Hermione looked at him, tears sliding slowly down her cheeks. She didn't bother to brush them away as she shrugged at him, holding her hands out in front of her helplessly. "I don't know Harry. I don't have any idea about any of this."
He wanted to hold her and kiss her, but he was too angry to even think about touching her. "This is ridiculous Hermione."
"I know."
"How can you just shrug it aside? Why aren't you fighting?"
She looked at him, still crying before she reached up and brushed away her tears. She set her shoulders and looked at him. "I have fought many things. I have stood by your side and fought with you. I have done things which weren't exactly legal. And I don't regret one moment of it. Yes, this is unjust and yes, it is ridiculous. I will walk into that courtroom tomorrow morning with my head held high, knowing that whatever happens, I will have done the best I can. I am fighting. I have been fighting against this very thing since day one."
He looked at her, unblinking and unsure of what to say.
"What's done is done. What's coming will come. Right now, I want to get your Christmas present, lock our dorm door and snuggle in front of the fire. Is that alright by you?" She sighed again and gave him a tiny smile.
In that instant, he knew how he'd been able to fight Voldemort. He knew what kept him alive. And for once, he understood that look in her eye, that gentle sparkle, came not from her intelligence but from her inner strength, the depths of which he knew he would never understand. That sparkle that changed so drastically was now ablaze and looking at her, Harry felt himself calming, knowing that whatever happened, she was ready.
She stood and walked silently to her room and he crossed to his wardrobe to retrieve her gift and change into his pyjamas.
There was a small box sitting on the table in front of the sofa. Hermione walked into the room just as he did, dressed in red flannel pyjamas and carrying a pot of tea, dangling two thick mugs from her finger tips. Her long, curly hair was brushed into a thick ponytail and the traces of tears were washed from her face. She smiled at him, as if their conversation only fifteen minutes prior was now forgotten.
She nodded towards the couch and set the mugs and pot down on the table. "I added the milk and sugar already, is that alright?"
He nodded and laid the thin, blue box containing her gift down on the table. She poured him a mug of tea and pointed towards the wrapped box sitting near her knee. "You go first."
"You're sure?"
"I insist."
"But--"
"Nope. I've been working on that for far too long. You go first." She held the steaming mug of tea to her lips as she watched him pick up the box.
The paper was a dark purple, tied with a large, silver ribbon. He tugged at it gently and it slid open, falling in gentle folds on his lap. He tore back the paper to reveal a black box. Tugging the lid off and sliding away the tissue paper, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Hermione smiled softly.
Inside, nestled in white tissue paper, he saw the black leather cover of a book. He pulled it out, wondering what it was, as there was no evident title on the front. The leather was soft and the book was more flimsy than a regular text. He opened it, surprised to see thick, handmade paper bearing Hermione's careful script. He noted the date at the top. Late July. He looked at her.
"They're letters. To you. I started writing them in the summer when I was too scared to say everything I was thinking."
He was speechless. "I--I don't know what to say, Hermione."
She blushed and shook her head. "There isn't anything to say. I wanted you to see them. I know I could have gotten you something better, but it seemed like the perfect gift at the time."
He hugged her tight, the diary pressed between them. "Hermione, it is perfect. I love you."
"I love you too."
"I'm not sure if my gift is good enough," he said quietly, scratching the back of his head.
"Well, what is it?" she grinned at him, wiggling a bit on the couch so that her feet tucked underneath her.
He held the box out to her and she pulled the lid off anxiously. He loved to watch her open gifts; she seemed young and he could imagine her as a young girl, spoiled on Christmas by her parents. The look on her face was surprised as he pulled the long, silver chain from the box.
"Oh, Harry." She held the necklace in front of her eyes so that she could see the charm more closely. She stared at it a moment before shifting her eyes to look at him. "It's a ring."
He nodded, feeling proud of this gift. On an afternoon he had spent with Ami, she had mentioned something about his mother's jewellery. After some prodding on his part, she had shown it to me. Amongst the few necklaces, a bracelet or two, and a silver watch, he'd found the long box. Opening it, he found a small silver ring on a silver chain. Ami had smiled at him. It had been a gift from his father to his mother when they graduated Hogwarts. She'd worn it until her pregnancy caused her fingers to swell. The chain had been their mother's. She'd worn a locket of her two daughters hanging from it, but Ami had told him that the locket had been broken years before. He'd asked Amy if he could have it and she'd nodded, telling him she'd take it to be cleaned first.
He told Hermione all of this, repeating Ami's words to him. "They were separated after school ended. My dad was going to work for Dumbledore and my mum was spending the summer abroad, helping other operatives to secure aid from foreign communities. It was charmed; whenever the engraved ridges glowed, he was thinking about her. I--Ami taught me how to do the charm..."
She threw her arms around his neck and he felt her tears against his cheek. "Harry, it's wonderful. I love you so much." She was kissing him suddenly, frantically, planting kisses on his lips and cheeks and forehead and eyes. He allowed her to do this for a few moments before cupping her face in his hands and kissing her fully on the lips. She leaned against him more, putting her own hands at the back of his neck. He moved his hands around her waste and pulled her even closer.
Their lips began a slow kiss, gentle, tentative. She was a bit lower than him and her lips hit more on his bottom lip as their kissed deepened. She straightened herself, kissing him full on and deeper. He shivered when he felt her tongue move slowly, tracing along his bottom lip and he felt her gasp when he nibbled slightly on hers. They pushed closer together then and he felt her breasts pressed against his chest. The heat in the room was deepening as their long kiss continued.
She was shifting, taking his hand as they kissed and pulling it towards her breast. His breath increased as he felt the weight of it in hand, the gentle slope of its curve underneath his fingertips. After a few moments, he pulled away, looking at her. Her eyes were liquid and there was a fiery intensity that he had never seen before. She seemed steeled and sure of herself. He gulped, taking in a deep breath and his voice caught in his throat.
"You're sure?"
She nodded. "I'm sure."
He stood from the sofa and offered her his hand, which she took as she stood. Together, they walked into his bedroom and she closed the door behind her.
A million thanks to Ian and Neil for beta-reading. Also, my eternal gratefulness must go to those of you who have reviewed. Your reviews keep me writing and without them I never would have made it this far.
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