Muffinlover: What can I say… except that I appreciate it so so much that you come back so loyally to leave such a nice review at every one of my new chapters!!! THANK YOU!!! :-) !!!!!
Kyi18: thank you :-) I was really hoping that it made sense and seemed plausible to everyone who'd be reading it… I wasn't sure at first, but, thanks to sbys it started to become clearer and more understandable… for I sometimes don't know myself what I'm trying to say ;-)
Tonks85: Nooo, don't hex me!! :-) Or I'll call you Nymphadora! Haha, j/k… Here comes chapter 9, I hope you like it and thanks for your review!
JVoldieme: Thanks so much again, for a very nice review! Hope you're continuing to read this and hopefully you'll like the next chapter :-)
------ Ok, this chapter is dedicated to… sbys!!! For it wouldn't have been posted at all if you didn't help me with it!! So thanks SO MUCH! I could try to say how much this means to me, but I guess that would take up quite some time… :-)
I'm just really grateful for all your suggestions and that you take the time to help me with this! It means so much!
And if anyone wants to read a really great story!: then you should go and read the two posted by sbys! I'm afraid I'm going to repeat myself by now, but…: CANT WAIT FOR CHAPTER 7!!!
Disclaimer: None of the recognized characters belongs to me, they are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros
The sun was setting just below the horizon and even though it was
getting dark gradually, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat on a blanket under a huge
oak tree in the backyard of Grimmauld Place. No one spoke,
each of them contemplating silently, too troubled to voice any concerns just
yet.
Dumbledore's revelation had been too much too soon for them all to comprehend
even the slightest bit. It had come as a complete horrific surprise for Harry
and he imagined his friends felt equally distressed by it.
All three of them were leaning against the big trunk of the tree, watching a
couple of garden gnomes playing an odd version of football with an over-sized
walnut. Their high-pitched chattering along with the last chirping of some
birds were the only sounds audible on this last hour
of the afternoon.
Ron was tossing a quaffle back and forth, absentmindedly. Since he made the
Gryffindor Quidditch team last year his confidence had gone up immensely,
especially after assuring Gryffindor's victory at the Quidditch Cup.
Harry was greatly happy for him, as he knew Ron didn't always cope well with
the situation of being the sidekick of the famous "Boy Who Lived" to others.
And Harry didn't blame him in the least. He only wished he could point this out
to his best friend.
He then turned his head to face Hermione and to his amazement, the girl with
the brown bushy hair was rocking back and forth tensely looking as if she was
just itching to say something.
"Now what is it, Hermione?" Harry asked her,
his voice sounding rather lethargic for he still felt the effects of the
sleeping charm Dumbledore had put on him the previous night. He wondered when
they would eventually wear off.
"Well, I just can't, I just can't wait to…"
Their conversation caught Ron's attention at once, making the red-haired boy,
who had seemed to have grown even more in the past weeks and adding to his lanky appearance, turn around to face
them.
"Hermione, are you alright? What is it you can't wait to do?" Ron asked her,
equally astound by the sight of her.
"Isn't it obvious?" she looked at the two boys in surprise. "I mean, what
Dumbledore just told us," she gestured with her hands. "Doesn't it make you wish you were at
Hogwarts? At the library of course?"
she added, sounding as if she was pointing out the simplest of all conclusions
to some toddlers.
"Oh why didn't I know," Ron groaned, turning back to throwing the quaffle in
the air and then catching it with the obvious ease of someone who completely
felt comfortable with what he was doing.
Harry couldn't restrain a broad grin himself. Of course, he should have known.
If there was a problem, any problem, Hermione would be the one to bring up the
library.
Although in this particular matter, he couldn't figure out what exactly it was that Hermione was hoping to find out, especially about this type of magic. If he'd understood Dumbledore correctly, this was an ancient and powerful sort, and, considering that Voldemort himself only gained knowledge of it, obviously secret and almost forgotten as well.
"It just doesn't feel right to sit here leisurely while V-Voldemort," she
stuttered out. "Is gathering up followers, getting them to
join their powers for this Draught of Tears." Hermione started playing
with some strands of her curly hair, twisting them around her finger, pulling
them as far until they were straight and then releasing them to have them
spiral up again.
Harry caught himself watching her in a kind of hypnotized state. Feeling
completely worn-out seemed to have this effect on him: lethargic and tired he
couldn't concentrate on the important subject which
lay at hand, no, it made him goggle at his best friend, who was, at present,
fooling around with her hair.
"Um," he cleared his throat. "This might just be the advantage we have."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, curiously. "I don't really see any advantages in
having You-Know-Who brewing up some ruddy potion which makes him do all kinds
of stuff I don't even want to think about," he shuddered.
"For the sake of Merlin, Ron, will you please start saying Voldemort's name? Once and for all?" Harry demanded angrily. "Hermione says
it, Dumbledore says it, Sirius says…" he broke off, feeling as if somebody had
just forced a dagger through his throat and cut off his speech.
The other two looked at him, shocked at his reaction.
"Sirius said it." Harry continued, his voice shaky. "And if there is a way we'll be
able to defeat him, we have to start making everybody realize that it's
irrational to be scared by the mere sound of his name. Brave people have lost
their lives fighting him, it would be a disgrace to their memory to not even
speak the name of Voldemort, don't you think?"
Ron flinched at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, every time Harry said it. Nevertheless he nodded reluctantly, his face
growing paler under his millions of freckles.
"You're right mate. I won't be sitting here like some bloody coward, not even
saying the name of You-Know…"
"RON!!" Harry and Hermione yelled in unison.
"Of you know, V-Voldemort I was meaning to say," he
shot them disapproving looks "Ronald Weasley, a
coward? No, sir! V- Voldemort, he's tried stuff like this before though. This
reminds me of that bloody philosopher's stone in our first year."
"In some ways it does," Hermione said, apparently deep in thought. "But it's so
different, too.
I mean, honestly, this time he tries
to gather magical creatures and entice them into helping him to get his
stinking hands on the most powerful miraculous potion. Oh, I can't wait to go
and look for something on it in the library. Figure it will be in the
restricted section?"
Harry moaned, mostly out of wanting to tease Hermione. She was so predictable, he sometimes thought he could read her like a
book himself. Out of the restricted section that is.
"Dumbledore does seem really worried," Ron said, in a more earnest tone, rather
seldom to be heard from him, therefore having a greater impression on his
friends.
"There's the one advantage that we've got," Harry assumed. "We can hope for
some of the creatures to not join him. The potion can't be accomplished without
the help of all of them, as far as I understood it. You know what Hagrid told
us, what a ruddy hard time he and Madame Maxime had
trying to get the giants to speak to them on friendly terms? Well I guess the Deatheaters, the one that remain that is," he smirked
unpleasantly, "they won't have it very much easier. But then again, some
creatures that haven't been treated well by wizard-kind, like goblins, they
might be tempted, you know," he frowned.
"Yeah, and what about… House elves?" Hermione shifted a little in her sitting position,
trying to make her look more impressive, as Harry figured, grinning.
"They've been treated like filth and sure enough this behaviour
will backfire on us. But as I see it, there's still time! If you only put a
little more effort into S.P.E.W., we could easily improve their conditions
and…"
"By Merlin's beard, I could eat a manticore, couldn't
you?" Ron interrupted her loudly, standing up and brushing the dry leaves and
grass off his pants.
"How about I bring some sandwiches and some pumpkin juice or something out here
and we'll have a picnic under the tree? Celebrating reunion?" he smirked.
"Sounds good, Ron," Harry grinned back at him.
"And when I come back I want to know all about this muggle girl," Ron winked at
him. "Once a heartthrob, always a heartthrob, huh Harry?"
With this Ron turned around, wandering off to the Grimmauld Place, leaving Harry
and Hermione sitting under the shades of the tree.
"I have no idea what he's playing at," Harry mumbled, deeply embarrassed. His
cheeks turned a lighter shade of red, remembering the last night with Grace,
still feeling her passionate kisses burning on his lips…
"Harry?" Hermione tugged on his shirt, making him wake up from his trance.
"What's up with you," she demanded, frowning.
"It's nothing, I'm ok," he said, not daring to look at her. If there was one
thing he knew, it was that Hermione would certainly know how to interpret his
expression, reading his emotions in the deep emerald green of his eyes as if he
was clearly writing them out on a parchment.
"I know that you're not," she said softly, placing her little hand on his arm,
her slender fingers squeezing it slightly. "This has been a lot again, I can't
believe how much you have to go through year after year," she whispered.
Harry turned around to look at her, surprised by her words. This sounded so
unlike the Hermione that he knew so well, inside out. His Hermione was the one
that just sat with him a couple of minutes ago, anxiously awaiting the moment
she could get her hands on the dusty volumes of the library once more,
analyzing the topic until there was nothing left to be cleared.
But this Hermione, sitting next to him, her eyes wide and glistening,
desperately searching his face for something she could not make out, she was so
different.
"I'll be alright, Mione," he said, trying to sound reassuring. Out of reflex he
placed his hand on top of hers, covering it totally for he just realized how
small her hand was compared to his own.
"I wanted to thank you," he added, remembering just a couple of hours ago when
he was crying in Hermione's arms as if there was no tomorrow. "For, you know,
just then…" he mumbled.
"I know," she said simply. "It's ok, it was my pleasure. I wished I could help
you more," she fixed her glance upon his face again. Noticing her stare he
forced his head up and their eyes locked.
Her eyes were of a deep cocoa-coloured brown, the
setting sun illuminating golden sprinkles in the centre. Usually he remembered
them gleaming energetically, sparkling of curiosity and ambition, aching to
find out more about what she was just reading or being lectured about, might it
be the ingredients of the Dense –
Darkening Potion or the Proper
Transfiguration of any household good into a functional writing quill.
It scared him to see her like this. She was paler than he ever remembered her
to be, let alone the incident when she had been petrified at the sight of the
Basilisk's reflection in their second year.
Her lips were trembling, her eyes awfully moist, like two deep pools of
chocolate, about to spill over.
"Mione," he asked her awkwardly, not exactly knowing how to cope with this new
situation, a Hermione not full of self-confidence but a Hermione that seemed to
be deeply distressed.
"It's nothing," she said, sobbing softly, proving her previous words wrong in
doing so. "I'm just so worried about… about what is going to happen if that
girl really has been turned into some kind of Veela and… and Voldemort is
actually going to get his hands on her power… and what will happen to… to you."
she finally choked. "I know that you will be involved in a fight with him, you
always are," she sniffed. "I just don't… I can't stand it…"
It really seemed to have been too much for her for she eventually threw her
arms around Harry's neck, catching him off-guard and made him stumble a little,
until he situated himself against the trunk again, tightening his hold on
Hermione.
"I don't want anything to happen to you," she cried into his shoulder, slightly
drenching the fabric of his shirt with her tears.
"Dumbledore said we're going to visit Grace tomorrow." Harry said, more to
sooth her pain than to enlighten her with some reassuring information, for he
perfectly well knew that Hermione knew about this.
He patted her on the back a little, not exactly feeling comfortable with the
situation. What was he to do to ease her obvious pain? There was nothing more
she didn't know herself. But he came to realize that this seemed exactly to be
the way to make her feel a little bitter for her sobs started to die down a
little.
She eventually lifted a tearstained face up to him, giving him a wobbly smile.
"Here I am, crying all over you," she said, drawing back, looking a little
embarrassed.
"Well, I just cried over you, did I not?" he tried to joke with her.
"I'm just being silly… I'm so sorry…"
"Don't be, Hermione! I'm really glad that I'm back here with all of you. Makes things easier. Although I still think this time alone
at Privet Drive might have
exactly been what I needed at that time. Who could have thought that some
dangerous part-Veela-girl would be waiting there for me, about to be cursed by
our darling potions masters, possibly re-activating her powers and luring her
into Voldemort's snare?" he grinned at her mockingly.
Hermione shifted slightly, leaning her back on the tree trunk again and in one
swift movement she turned to let her head rest on Harry's shoulder.
His breath caught for a second. She had done this before, millions of times
obviously. When the three of them had been sitting in the Gryffindor common
room countless times, talking until way past midnight, in front of the
crackling fire…
But this was the first time she had done so with only him around and it felt
different to have her so close to him.
He dizzily remembered the way he had woken up, Hermione clinging to his
chest, so close to him again. He looked at the top of her head, remembering
only two days ago a different girl leaning against him, her hair not brown and
bushy but wavy and silvery.
"Tell me about this girl," Hermione muttered.
"I, I don't know what to tell you about her," he stuttered, utterly surprised
by this question. He felt much more comfortable telling Ron about Grace and how
he found her stunningly beautiful, how astound he was when she proclaimed her
affection towards him. But it felt strange to inform Hermione about this. "I
mean, you're going to meet her tomorrow, won't you?"
"Haven't decided," Hermione mumbled. "I don't know if I want to meet her
actually." She said, her voice sounding a little harsh all of a sudden. "How
can somebody wander around, not knowing they are of Veela heritage? I mean come
on, how thick can you get?" she said ruthlessly.
"Hermione," Harry was kind of shocked by her vigorous reaction. "She's only a
muggle, how do you think she could have gotten her hands on information like
this? It's not exactly in your birth certificate, you know?"
"Ha!" Hermione spat, standing up abruptly. "I'm going inside, I'm not hungry."
she said, without looking at Harry one more time.
He watched her utterly bewildered, not knowing what to make out of
this. He could have sworn he heard her mumbling something like "Couldn't have
known… really…" while she stormed off
to the old house, nearly stepping on one of the gnomes that was serving as
"goal"-keeper, blocking an old tin can and squeaking angrily at her as she
passed.
Ron met her at the door, but she wouldn't turn around to look at him.
Harry made room for Ron as he joined him under the tree, handing him a couple
of delicious Weasley-sandwiches and a fresh bottle of Butterbeer.
"Now mate, tell me about this bird you just happened to meet at that moldy
Muggle-residence of yours," he smirked, nudging Harry with his elbow, grinning
from one ear to another.
Harry smirked back at him and started to tell him everything about his first
encounter with Grace, their trip to the lake, her astounding ability of
obviously nearly reading his thoughts and, of course, their intense snogging
the night of Snape's "unfortunate mistake", as Dumbledore liked to refer to it.
"Well pal, you seem to be one lucky bloke, you know that?" Ron grinned
enthusiastically. "Not always of course, if you take away the ill-fated
encounters with you and V-Voldemort and all. And the constant threats arising
from that, but how come the great girls seem to swoon at your feet all the
time? Can't be your looks, really!"
***
Like so many nights before, Harry simply couldn't find sleep. He caught himself
wishing for one of Dumbledore's knock out sleeping potions again.
He felt as tired as if he just chased a whole herd of full-grown blast-ended skrewts through the Forbidden Forrest, but still he felt
his eyes jerk open at the slightest sound, tossing around in his bed, listening
to Ron's soft snoring.
He got up quietly, trying hard to not wake Ron up by some sudden sound. He
found his way to the door, opening it, fearfully hearing it screech loudly. But
Ron simply turned around, adjusting his position, his snoring even increasing.
Relieved, Harry closed the door behind him, walking through the corridor until
he reached the door that let out on a balcony, facing the backyard.
He put his elbows on the balustrade, filling his lungs with the cold night's
air.
The backyard looked so peaceful in the moonlight, the tree tops graced with its
golden light, the grass trembling in the midnight's breeze.
Some celestial bits of light danced through the great majestic trees, providing
the illusion that the mighty trees were adorned with tiny precious jewels.
On a closer look Harry thought he detected wings on the golden lights, adding
to his assumption that this must be some fairies on a night time promenade.
The cool night air made him shiver slightly in his thin pyjamas.
He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to get warm.
He almost jumped in surprise when he felt two supplementary arms wrap around
his waist, pulling him close. After the first shock he turned around, knowing
for certain who this had to be for he had already recognized her scent of a
light ocean's breeze, her favourite perfume.
He turned around to see Hermione looking at him shyly, slightly blushing as she
lightened her hold on him a little.
"I heard your door screech, so I followed you. I couldn't find any sleep
myself. And you looked as if you were really cold," her sentence trailed off.
"I was Mione," Harry said, truthfully. And then, in sudden realization he added
"Until you all came into my life, I was persistently cold."
She smiled at him sadly. "I know Harry, I know…"
He noticed how tiny and how young she looked in her white, silky nightgown, going down to her ankles, her skinny arms still wrapped tightly around him.
Shifting a little he turned around, pulling her into a hug so she was standing before him now, facing the nighttime backyard with its magical creatures that made it look so breathtakingly beautiful.
"Care to go on a nighttime stroll, Hermione?" he asked, giving her a last tight squeeze before releasing her.
"I'd love to," she smiled back, taking his hand into her hers, leading him down the old, stony stairs that led into the park-like backyard of No. 12, Grimmauld Place…
A/N: You know what you have to do if you want to let me know what you think about it… So, what are you waiting for ;-) ?