A/N: HUGE Thank you to Sbys for all your help and support! I appreciate it more than I can say!!! If it wasn't for you, the story would have ended with…

Chapter 7 or something :-)

Your suggestions/corrections are just wonderful. All this means so much!

Also I want to thank everyone who asked me to continue.

Thanks for all the nice reviews I received! And whoever doesn't like this story: Go and read something else,

Something you like. Why don't you?

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: None of the recognized characters belongs to me, they are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros.

Nighttime, Harry decided, was entirely different from day. Perhaps it was the fact that the darkness could turn everything cold and lifeless once the sun slipped behind the horizon, creating a world cloaked in black and gray, insensible to existence and unresponsive. Or maybe it was the way the blackness silenced all sound, leaving the world outside still and bleak.

Perhaps these were the most prominent reasons for the little popularity the dark sibling of daytime enjoyed. 


He always cherished the solitude and comfort that night seemed to give him. It was his time to follow his own thoughts, reflect on what had been happening and what to expect the next time sun stretches out its arms of light over the horizon. And not to be forgotten was the fact that he hardly found any sleep in these past weeks following Sirius' death. So it was no surprise to him that night became his favourite.

The velvet darkness covering  the garden of No. 12 Grimmauld Place provided it with a beauty unnoticeable by day. The moon peeked around the clouds, turning the treetops to silver.
The surface of the lake in the far back of grounds was wrinkled playfully by the gentle breeze of the summer night.

Following the twisting and winding stony path throughout the garden, Harry and Hermione's bare feet made little sound on the grey rock-strewn way, which was partially covered with dark green and slightly moist moss, incredibly soft to the touch. The trail wound its way through the whole garden, passing old monuments of stern looking wizards and witches, old weary looking fountains adorned with eerie stone figures, representing some magical creatures that Harry didn't even want to find out about.

Neither of them had yet spoken a word and silence lay between them, parallel to the stillness of these hours of darkness. Their fingers were still entwined though. From the time when Harry led Hermione down the old rugged steps into the backyard of his godfather's estate, their hands had joined and neither had changed this situation. Hermione's light silky nightgown flew around her ankles with every step, just scarcely revealing her bare feet each time.

It was she who broke the silence following a moment silent walking.

"Do you want to go and sit beside the lake on the bench? There's something I need to tell you."

Harry looked at her, walking next to him, her features illuminated by the moon.

"Sure, let's go sit down. I hope you're not cold, Hermione? That thing you're wearing looks awfully thin!"

Hermione gave him her best Professor McGonagall glance.

"Certainly, I wouldn't be walking around here if I was cold. That is out of the question, Mr. Potter."

He grinned at her. Of course it was. If somebody was to be awarded the "Mr. or Mrs. In-Control"- award, she would be the most promising candidate.

They reached a little lake - well it was more like a pond - situated at the end of the garden. Stone benches were placed on three of its sides, welcoming the visitor to a quiet rest. A few toads seemed to inhabit the pond as well, their sounds blending with the soft sounds of nighttime birds.

Cascaded by moonlight, several water lilies were visible, floating on the rippling surface, their petals stained silver in the dark. Little creatures that Harry couldn't make out exactly were hopping feverishly from one flower to the other, splashing each other with water in the process.

Hermione led Harry to one of the stone benches, sat down and neatly folded her gown over her legs.

"Alright, Hermione, I'm all yours. All listening." Harry said, looking at her with a grin.

Her eyes were fixed on the ground; apparently looking at her feet. And sure enough she was nibbling on her lower lip, a good sign for imminent nervousness. Crossing her arms over her chest she led out a soft sigh. The wind picked up slightly, blowing several strands of hair into her face and she reached up to brush the locks aside.

"Well, Harry, it's something I wanted to let you know. I hope you won't get me wrong though. I'm kind of… afraid to tell you," she said, still not looking up at him.

"Alright, now you're disturbing me, Hermione," Harry said jokingly, hoping to reassure her. The fact that she was still fixing her eyes on her toes was troubling even more than the trace of nervousness detectable in her voice.

Without even thinking about it he reached out, put his hand under her chin and gently lifted her head up to have her face level with his again. His success was not entirely the way he planned it, even though she lifted her face, her eyes still wandered tensely away from his, focusing on a tree behind him.

Harry pulled his hand back and frowned at his best friend. What was it that she didn't find the courage to tell him? It couldn't be so bad as he could hardly think of anything awful that the three of them hadn't experienced yet. Well, sure there were things but, come on! What kind of disastrous scenario could severely scare him anymore?

"What scares you, Hermione? Because the way you're behaving right now scares me," Harry said, noticing the agitated sound in his voice.

"I'm afraid that you might think of this as a betrayal of our friendship," she whispered finally, her eyes still trained on the silver tipped tree.

A slight breeze blew, sending several brown, untamable locks into her face again and Harry reached out and tucked those lose strands behind her ear, causing her to finally look him into the eyes.

He rested his hand on her cheek just a brief moment and said, "You can tell me, Hermione. It can't be that hard, can it?"

She gave him a wobbly smile and nodded slowly, her teeth still nibbling on her lower lip. "Alright," she finally gave into his steady gaze. "I'll tell you," she took a deep breath. "I was thinking about not going back to Hogwarts this year," she said, softly.

Harry stared at her blankly. Now what in Merlin's name was that supposed to mean? He could make neither heads nor tails out of her statement for it wouldn't have made more sense if Hermione had just stated she wanted to join the Weird Sisters and tour Tolkien's Middle Earth.

"Huh?" was the smartest thing Harry could muster to say.

"Well, you know, I was thinking about going to another school. It would… certainly… be complementing my studies at Hogwarts and it would mean such an improvement to…"

"Wait a minute," Harry cut her off, and held up his hand to stop her from speaking. "What exactly are you saying here? You want to go attend some muggle school?" He eyed her incredulously, unbelieving what his ears had heard. He gulped. "But Hermione, shouldn't you finish your education in the magical things first?"

"Harry, I never mentioned anything about Muggle education," Hermione replied softly, her eyes suddenly glistening. "Of course I'd be going to a magical school. Just not Hogwarts."

Realization was beginning to dawn. At the same time anger was swelling up inside him, causing his breath to hitch in his throat.

"Durmstrang," he coughed hoarsely, the word leaving his lips in a snarl. "You want to go to school with Viktor, don't you? You're still together? These novel-long letters you've been writing to him in the common room?" he accused her, not giving her the chance to defend herself.

Hermione stared at him, unblinking. "Harry? Are you insane?" she was finally able to break into his rant. "You think I'd transfer to some school fancied by Lucius Malfoy, located near the North Pole, and teaching classes of the Dark Arts?" she stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Do you think I've completely lost my marbles this summer? And no, it has nothing to do with Viktor. Quite the contrary… It has to do with everything but Victor…" she let the sentence trail off.

Her eyes focused on the little creatures in the pond, rather than the tree behind him, that seemed to have started some sort of jumping competition, to the great annoyance of a family of fat green toads, sitting on a rock nearby.

"Hermione, if you don't tell me in the next few seconds, I'll be forced to take on desperate measures!" Harry joked, trying to ignore the lump in his throat that was building up.

"Well, I was considering transferring to Beauxbatons for the next few semesters. You know, as an exchange student or something. I was talking to Professor Dumbledore about it this summer. But he convinced me otherwise. Something I would have never expected from him, truth be told."

Harry felt his hands go numb. Without knowing the reason for that he directed his gaze to his hands. The fingers of both his hands were tangled, pressing on each other with extreme force, resulting in a lack of blood supply to his fingertips. He quickly released some of the pressure and his fingers started to prickle uncomfortably as the blood began to return to his fingers once more.

"Why, Hermione?" Harry asked, his voice sounding strange and unfamiliar to his ears. "What would make you do this? And don't tell me anymore of this "improving your education crap!" he cut her of before she even had the chance to say anything. "Because I happen to know that you had plans for graduating at Hogwarts and going to university abroad. Damn it, Hermione, you don't even speak French!"

Hermione, apparently shocked by his vigorous outburst seemed to recoil visibly before his eyes.

"That's not it," she whispered, hardly audible. "I wouldn't have said that. I would never lie to you, Harry." She looked up at him, her eyes big and chocolate brown, flickering slightly.

"And as for the language thing… I do speak some French. What do you think I've been doing all those times I was on vacation in France with my parents? Don't you expect me to pick up some French over there? I was taking language classes as well. It's not that difficult, as soon as you get the hang of it. The grammar is kind of tricky, but if you have the basics in Latin…"

Harry raised his hand, silencing her with his gesture. "Herms, you're rambling!" he said, frowning at her.

"I know I am," she said, speaking very softly again. "It's just, I've come to realize that…well actually Professor Dumbledore pointed it out to me afterwards… I wasn't entirely sure at first…"

"Hermione!"

"Sorry…" she smiled at him shyly. "Ok, since you were so distant to me during the summer, I… I assumed you needed your time away from me, from Ron and I, like you told me on the phone. But what I came to realize later on was, that it wasn't possible for me to exclusively let you have your own will,"

Even in the dim moonlight Harry noticed a faint blush creeping up to her face. He studied her features. She wasn't beautiful in the original sense of the word. Her loveliness was found in several different sources. She was caring, loyal and the most helpful person he'd ever met. The determination for helping others made her beautiful, most of all. Her friendship meant more to him than he was able to grasp just yet.

"What do you mean with that," he asked, his voice speaking as soft as hers. He reached out and took hold of both her hands, squeezing them tightly.


It was obvious that she had immense difficulties saying what she wanted to say and do it out loud. She opened her mouth several times, closing it again after the failed effort of speaking.

"It's not easy," she finally said. Though this was unnecessary. Harry continued looking at her, waiting for her to start.

"It's just that, all my life, I mean, all the time we've been going to school together. Maybe I should say: All my life after receiving my letter from Hogwarts, I've been constantly worried about you, Harry! Ever since our fist year, when you saved the Philosopher's Stone from Voldemort. There wasn't a day going by where I didn't fear for your safety, worry about your protection and working on whatever difficulty it was that you might have to face again. It's become my life! My primary purpose in life seems to be the friend and helper of Harry Potter. And I didn't mind. And I still don't mind," she added hastily.

"But in the recent past, it's become too much of a burden. Physically and… emotionally," she looked away, evidently not noticing a tear making its way down the side of her suntanned nose, running down her cheek.

"I couldn't stand it anymore," she continued, her voice cracking a little. "I desperately wanted to be there for you, but you wouldn't let me. I wanted to be of assistance to you and support you in your time of grieving for Sirius, but there was no way getting through to you. And it still seems to be impossible." Hermione continued shakily, still not looking up at Harry, who sat there, petrified. He hardly noticed his hand slipping out of her lose grip, dropping limply into his lap.

"I can't believe I'm telling you all this now. But Dumbledore and Ron convinced me that you're going to find out. And you should find out because I told you, not any other way. Anyhow, it seemed like you rejected me and it hurt. It was the feeling of something being torn out of me. I just didn't feel like I could face you again, you and the danger that you are going to be facing again, undoubtedly. I didn't know anything about the Draught of Tears back then, but here we go. Some deadly potion, mingling all powers of magical beasts," she sniffed. "I thought it would be too much."

"So I thought it might be best if I spent some time away from all this. And Beauxbatons seemed to be a rational thing to do. But Professor Dumbledore told me that I shouldn't." she eventually reached up and roughly ran her hands over her face.

"He told me that you need me, that you need my friendship and support. And that I would be of help to you. And as soon as you arrived at Grimmauld Place, I thought it might be true." As Hermione stopped, she looked up at Harry, apparently searching his eyes for something he wasn't quite aware of.

Harry looked at her, his mind completely wiped blank. Whatever Hermione had been saying he just didn't quite recall all the details. He racked his brain for something to say, but he felt as if he was running into a solid brick wall.

"You can't leave, Hermione," Harry finally managed to utter. "You're always there. You can't be gone. You're…you're…you're Hermione!" he finally said sheepishly, as if that settled it.

Hermione led out a quiet sob and buried her face in her hands. Her long bushy curls fell down her shoulders, nearly covering her face like a curtain. The sobs seemed to shake her whole body slightly. She gave the impression to be shivering madly all of a sudden.

Harry stared at her, unsure of what he was to do. He never felt as unsure about anything in his whole life, or that it seemed, at least. There were only two different thoughts racing through his mind in lightning bolt speed at this point.

"Hermione wanted to leave Hogwarts" and "Hermione is crying".

The first one was accompanied by a painful lurch in the region of his stomach. He still couldn't quite understand her reasons for even considering something like that. Hermione had always been there to turn to. If it wasn't for her, he wouldn't have survived the first year, starting with the Devil's Snare. Then it hit him: He might have taken his friend for guaranteed all along. He might not have appreciated her enough.

The second consideration of his needed a solution right now.

Harry reached out his hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek, surprised on how soft and smooth her skin felt under his touch. He wiped away her tears as gently as he could.

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, looking at him, her eyes big and puffy, bloodshot from crying and with an expression in them Harry had never seen before. He stroked his fingers down her cheek onto her neck, then caressing the soft skin behind her right ear.

As soon as his fingers reached that part, she closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. The sound of her breath escaping her lips made his stomach twist to knots. He frantically tried to regain his composure. This was his best friend he was touching. This was Hermione, for Merlin's sake!

Trailing his trembling hand to the back of her neck, her soft hair tickling the skin of his arm, Harry desperately tried to ignore the suddenly unexpected loud rushing of his blood and increase of his pulse. "This is Hermione. Hermione!" he kept telling himself.

As if she had heard him, what he hysterically told himself was… not… possible, Hermione opened her eyes and her chocolate brown locked with Harry's deep green ones.
She gazed into them, questioningly.

"Harry?" she whispered quietly. The sound of his name spoken in such a familiar and still intimate manner made it hard, if not impossible, to ignore the sudden feeling of longing erupting in him. Harry had never heard his name spoken like this. He allowed his left hand to graze hers softly, feeling her tremble beneath his touch.

He looked at her, the girl he had known for a great part of his life. The one he first met on the Hogwarts Express, transporting them into a different and amazing New World. In these few moments he thought of all the trials and tribulations he had been through and never recalling a remembrance that didn't have her involved. There wasn't a memory he could grasp that didn't have her within it. A memory that didn't start with her, include her, end with her.

Hermione was still looking at him, observing him as if she could read his very mind. The flutter in his stomach increased under her gaze. He drew closer until her face was only inches away from his own. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking the side of her face. Her eyelids closed and she lifted her chin and drew just a little closer until her lips met his.

Harry was in shock. His mind was screaming at him that this was his best friend who's lips were pressed on his, but everything else told him that… well it didn't tell him anything at all, besides…

He applied a little more pressure to her mouth, pressing his lips gently on hers and heard her sigh against his mouth. His stomach did a severe back flip, causing him to tremble slightly. Hermione apparently noticed this for she reached out and put her arms around his neck, without breaking the contact, tightening her hold on him.

Harry pulled her closer and tighter to him. He felt her melt against him as he gently deepened the kiss. This was so unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It was as if fireworks were going of in his body, sending tingly sensations throughout all his being. The little voice telling him that he shouldn't be kissing his best friend was silenced by something stronger, something sweeter.

Realization. Realization that this was so distinct from sharing shy kisses with Cho. So different from the fiery, passionate way Grace had kissed him just two nights ago.

Hermione kissed him with love. He could feel it so distinctively and it made all the difference in the world. For he had never knowingly experienced love, in its true form, in his whole life.

While pulling her even closer, not knowing if this was humanly possible, he felt the back of his eyes sting painfully. He couldn't help tears escaping from them, slowly making their way down his cheek. He pulled away from her just a little and let his head drop onto her shoulder. His tears finally moistening the fabric of her silky nightgown. Hermione's hands went up, one tangled gently in his black messy hair, while letting the other tenderly run over his neck.

"You love me," Harry finally whispered after what seemed eternities.