Disclaimer: You'd be really silly to think that I were to own the wonderful world of Harry Potter, although I wish I did…then that way I could be filthy rich like JK herself. But, unfortunately for me, I don't and I can't even begin to write like her. I guess I'll have to remain the broke college student I am. So, no, nothing belongs to me…but you knew that didn't you? Oh yeah, I've just realized that I spelt Dylan Thomas's name wrong, I'll try and go back and fix it on the first chapter as well.
Author's Note: What can I say except that I'm extremely flattered that you all like this story. Honestly, I wasn't too sure of how it would go over since I've never written a sequel before. All I can say to you is thank you, and I hope I don't let you down. I was hoping to get this chapter out right away, but unfortunately for me, I got stuck somewhere in the middle of it. I hope you don't find it as a pathetic excuse for a chapter and there maybe a few spelling errors that I've overlooked. Oh yes, a warning to you…there's a very long response to a review ahead…you don't have to read it, but I thought I'd let you know so you can skip over it if you wish.
To my reviewers, old and new alike: Sammac, SweetHeart, HoGwArTs fLiRt12, Melbell, Stoneheart, Amy, flying*duck, anonymous, Webmaster Pikachu, the great youth of smallness, SoccerChic3485, Hermharry
~*~
Stoneheart: I see I'm going to have to leave you a very long note in light of your reviews, well, I don't have too, but I will. To begin with, I owe you my humble apologizes, you're quite right; I should have told you that I'd begun another story. And although you couldn't be the first, your comments and thoughts are always welcome and much appreciated, no matter what number reviewer you are.
You've got some pretty good ideas as to who the "Master" could be…and I will neither confirm nor deny them, it ruins the suspense and what fun would that be? I'll guess I'll just have to keep you guessing, but that may prove difficult for me to do. And yes, you're right, the use of "their" is incorrect, it was just the only way I could keep the identity hidden for now. But thanks for pointing that out…I can be rather dense at times.
As for portkey…most of the other stories I've read there make mine seem so pale and sickly in comparison, that I'm hesitant to even try. I may give it a go, and I may not…but you can't hex me if I don't. You…not good enough? I refuse to believe that, because in my opinion, you are. You write the same way you write reviews, with great eloquence, insight, and detail…never doubt that for one minute.
Oh yes, to comment on something else you left in your review…I haven't spent that much time lounging on the beach. I'm sick of being told that I'd make a good pillow (honestly, as if hearing that line will just make me throw myself at them) or that someone wants to marry me, or seeing people that shouldn't be, well I'll leave it at that…they shouldn't be doing a lot of things .
It is a beautiful place though, and I encourage everyone to visit at least once in their lifetime, it's quite the experience…just ignore the people wandering around either topless (I'm not a prude, I just don't want to see it) or wearing Speedos when they're like 80. Er – I hope that doesn't offend anyone…that certainly isn't my intention. It's just I would never subject anyone to the horror that is me like that. Ugh, I shudder to think of it.
~*~
Alright then, now that that last bit is longer than my Author's Note, lets move forward shall we? I'm sure you want too…I can be rather long winded sometimes. Enjoy!
~*~
Rage, rage, against the dying of the light…
Dylan Thomas
~*~
The building loomed before them, emerging from the shadows of Knockturn Alley like a ghost ship sailing out of the fog. Gray and withered, much like the hand that had beckoned them only moments before, it stood next to a row of pristine shops, looking dirty and ragged in comparison. Fashioned out of mud colored bricks and cracked stone, stained and worn smooth by the endless blowing of wind and sand, it looked empty and lifeless, a mere shell. A set of crooked, flagstone steps led up to solid oak doors, scarred and splintered and decorated with ornate iron designs. Everything about the little store seemed dark and forbidden, including the arched windows, which punctured the exterior with their dirty glass and looked out at the approaching guests like frowning eyes; narrowed and spiteful. The sign that creaked on rusty hinges above the door, lettered in crimson and a flowing Gothic script, read: Madam Lissette's Crystal Gazing and Ancient Artifacts.
"Harry," Hermione whispered softly as they stepped closer, half hoping he'd give up his foolish quest and turn back. "I don't like this," she could feel fear pricking the back of her throat with its bitter fingers, threatening to weaken her resolve and send her scurrying back to the familiar and friendly territory of Diagon Alley.
"Come," the voice called out from the recesses of the building in response to her hushed comment. "There's nothing to fear from me, not from me, the poor, lowly shopkeeper that I am."
She took a deep breath, drawing upon the inner courage and strength that had placed her in Gryffindor, swallowed the ball of fear lodged in her throat down to a manageable level, and did her best to keep up with Harry's long strides. If he had heard her muttered words, he didn't show any signs of it, which Hermione couldn't decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing. The walk to the vaulted doorway was short, despite the amount of people that seemed to come in between them and their destination like a raging flood. Slightly dragging her feet and lagging behind her determined boyfriend, she could feel the uneasy feeling return, growing in the pit of her stomach with every step.
The hand that had gestured to them only moments before, had slipped soundlessly through the double oak doors, leaving them open a foot or so to allow the visitors access to the shop. Together they climbed the uneven stairs and hesitated, unsure of whether they should just walk inside or if they should knock first to announce their arrival.
"Come," the voice called out again before Harry even had time to lift his hand. "Please, come in. Don't be shy."
They did, Harry first and Hermione following him, still keeping her tight hold on his hand as if trying to draw some of his strength and courage into herself. She'd never been the clingy type, as she always preferred to stand on her own two feet. But something in the woman's grating voice caused her to latch onto him, almost as if it was more for his protection than hers, although she couldn't imagine why. Harry had certainly seen his fair share of evil, even more so than the average adult wizard and witch combined, to be able to protect them both.
Once inside, both had to squint at the sudden loss of light as they looked round. Long glass counters, their tops wiped free of any dust or streaks, ran on either side of the room. Filled with dark and ancient looking artifacts of a magical world long forgotten, or at least ignored by those that wished to forget an earlier time, they called out for patrons to stop and browse. Old wooden crates, their slats nailed together crookedly, were lined up on the floor along the free spaces against the walls, and were filled with crumbling and yellowed scrolls, the words on them written in a language neither could decipher. From the rafters, multiple herbs and roots dangled in clusters on thick strings, scenting the air with their spicy aroma and mixing with the thick, curling smoke of the incense pots that were scattered liberally throughout. The end result was a nauseating sweet smell that had Harry and Hermione both fighting the urge to gag.
One of the glass counters contained various rings, bracelets, necklaces, medallions and pendants, each laid neatly on soft cloth, some looking beautiful and harmless; pleasing to the eye, while others seemed to ooze with dark magic; powerful and magnetic. On the walls, shelves were packed with odds and ends, giving the rather large room a cluttered and lived in feeling. In a rusty, iron cage, a ragged crow was sleeping, its frayed feathers rustling every once in awhile as it drew a breath. A black curtain was strung across a doorway leading even farther back into the building.
Near the back of the dim enclosure, small, glittering gray eyes peered out at them from beneath a cascade of equally gray hair that was stringy and thin as it fell over them like a veil. A hood was pulled up over her head, shadowing the rest of her features from view. The twisted hands were tucked neatly inside the large sleeves of her faded black robe, and while it looked as though her build was frail, her back was stooped, as if she was carrying a great weight upon her shoulders.
"Welcome," the hood bobbed up and down in greeting. "To Madam Lissette's," Harry and Hermione both nodded in greeting, neither knowing exactly what to say. "I'm am she," Lissette hobbled forward in slow, shuffling steps across the wooden floor.
There was a slight pause before Harry suddenly cleared his throat and remembered his manners. "Pleasure to meet you," he extended his free hand. "I'm…"
"Harry Potter," Lissette said for him, finishing in a cackle and ignoring his outstretched hand as she came to a stop before him, her eyes darting up to his scar. A small patch of light cut through the darkness of her hood and exposed the rest of her face. Her complexion was bone white, as if she hadn't seen the sun in years and giving it an almost translucent appearance. Her skin was lined with deep wrinkles and speckled liberally with dark liver spots, suggesting that she'd seen more than a few years pass her by. "And you," her beady eyes swung to face Hermione. "Are Hermione Granger."
"Yes," she nodded stiffly, not quite sure of what to make of the old woman. "May I ask, how is it that you know who I am?" she cocked her head to the side in thought. "Harry everyone knows…but me?"
Lissette cackled again. "Everyone knows you," her lips pulled back in a sneer. "At least they do now," she pointed to her copy of The Daily Prophet lying on the counter, face up. The front page screamed its headline in large bold letters:
Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, dating classmate and best friend, Hermione Granger
"Ugh," Hermione's face paled as she read the headline that was accompanied by a very large, very recent, picture of Harry kissing her on the cheek. She watched incredulously as her picture self flushed and shyly gazed up at the picture Harry and her hands curled possessively around his own. "Honestly, stupid sodding reporters," she grumbled, her face taking on the beginning stages of a burning blush as she wavered between becoming very angry and very embarrassed at the same time. "They can never mind their own business," she huffed and cast a final look at the article. "It's that detestable Rita Skeeter," she glared at the by-line. "When I get my hands on her," she bit her lip to keep from saying anything more.
Harry merely smiled as he overlooked the article from his spot next to her. "It was bound to happen," he said soothingly and gave her a grin, trying to calm her down. "We knew someone would find out sometime," he shrugged. "Better now then later. Besides, she's not writing lies is she? I mean, I don't mind everyone knowing that I'm dating the smartest and most beautiful witch in the wizarding world," he winked at her.
"Flattery will get you no where Potter," she fought to keep down a grin at his words.
"Really?" he arched an eyebrow. "I'll have to tell Sirius that he gave me faulty advice on girls," his eyes sparkled in laughter.
"Git," she shook her head and relented with a long sigh. Suddenly she was aware of the woman standing before them, watching with sharp eyes and her attention snapped back to the situation at hand. "Sorry," she muttered, feeling rather foolish that Lissette was present during their little exchange. "What is it that you wanted to talk to us about?" she was suddenly all business. "We heard you calling to us on the street."
A shadow passed over the elderly woman's face, turning her eyes to a turbulent gray, like a storm sweeping over the ocean. "I have but one warning to give you," her voice dropped lower, taking on a deeper, raspy tone. "I have seen it in my gazing and I've heard it whispered on the winds. The place that you consider to be a safe haven will become a playground of sorrow and tears," she muttered, almost as if she was talking to herself and not them at all. "The animus caterra has returned, someone has set him free," she paused, allowing her morbid words to sink in. "And he is hungry and desperate to restore himself to his former glory."
Harry and Hermione shared a look of apprehension at her warning.
"Are you afraid of the dark?" Lissette went on, ignoring the silence between them.
"Excuse me?" Hermione blinked in surprise, a bit taken aback that a total stranger would ask such a childish question, especially following such a depressing prophecy. "Did you just ask us if we were afraid of the dark?" she cast a look at an equally baffled Harry.
Lissette nodded, her mouth set in a thin line as she continued to stare at them with her stormy eyes.
"Er – well," she scratched her head and shifted slightly on her feet. "I can't speak for Harry, but no, I haven't been afraid of the dark since well, since I was a child and I thought there was a monster under my bed," then she snorted, unable to contain herself any longer. "I can't believe you're serious in asking us that," she fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Madam Lissette regarded her with a hard look, squinting in what looked like disbelief. "You are either incredibly brave, or undeniably foolish," she responded calmly. "I'm not certain as to which."
Harry shot Lissette a look of utter shock at her comment. No one ever doubted Hermione's intelligence or her bravery, not after everything that they'd been through.
Hermione's face was slowly turning red and her eyes snapped in a surge of anger. "Are you telling me," she scoffed at the insult she'd just received. "That you're afraid of the dark?" her eyebrows raised slightly.
"Child," Lissette began slowly, not caring in the least bit that the young woman before her was fuming and received a glare in response to the word 'child'. "If you've seen what I have, you would be, in fact, you would be terrified. For you will face a horror worse than any imaginary monster under your bed."
"And why is that?" she demanded, ignoring Harry's pleading look to stop. "I have no reason to fear the dark."
Lissette chuckled, sounding more like a ruthless cackle. Her lips pulled back and revealed a set of blackened teeth. "Oh but you do," her laughter faded away, her insane grin turning into a sneer as her face fell back into the lines and wrinkles of a weathered hag. "You do. There are things that move in the dark, where even the angels fear to tread. Things that strike terror deep into the hearts of even the bravest men and that have no name save one…Umbra Antitheus. Things that make your skin crawl and your heart stop."
Harry remained silent, eyes downcast on the floor underneath his shoes as Lissette continued to lecture Hermione, something that rarely happened. He sucked in a breath when he felt her turn her burning eyes from Hermione to him. "He is," she said knowingly, satisfaction lacing her words. "I can see it in his eyes," a bony finger extended out to point directly at him. "Aren't you boy?"
He swallowed hard, his mind racing with all his past encounters with Voldemort. Sudden flashes of cruel, red eyes, bared teeth, and searing pain rolled through him like a shudder. He took a deep breath before answering her. "Not of the dark itself," he began softly and chose his words carefully, feeling Hermione's steady gaze on him. He was about to admit something that even she didn't know about him. "But of what can happen in the dark."
Lissette nodded at his words, the smile returning and growing on her face until her thin lips stretched across her teeth, giving her the appearance of a grinning skull. "And you should be," she inched closer to him, her voice dropping into a menacing whisper as her eyes bore into his with a wicked and knowing look. "Even though you have seen more evil than most have. But, I will tell you only this," she paused. "Beware the things you cannot see," she continued to stare at him. "And the things you cannot touch. For when the candle light flickers, and the light of the flames cannot reach into the darkest shadows and the hair stands up on the back of your neck, it is watching, and waiting."
Hermione could contain herself no longer and rolled her eyes in annoyance. "If you have something to say I wish you'd just come out and say it," she snapped. "I don't have time for ridiculous riddles or cynical fortune tellers," she huffed out a breath and crossed her arms. "And what the devil is the animus caterra? Or do I get another cryptic message?" she was offended and Harry knew it, although he couldn't do anything to calm her down.
"Never let the lights go out," she didn't offer to answer Hermione's question, much to her chagrin, and continued to speak, directing every word to Harry. "For it is in the darkness and shadows that it moves, flowing like deadly smoke, soundless and odorless. Only in the light are you safe."
"Harry," Hermione finally had enough and turned towards him, trying to gain his attention. "It's been over an hour," she pointed out, slightly raising her eyebrows and glancing towards the door. "We need to be meeting up with Ron and Lavender soon," she hinted.
"Er – right then," Harry mumbled and scratched the back of his head. He was suddenly reminded of his second year when Dobby had come with another warning about his return to Hogwarts, although not as sinister. "Erm – thank you?" he looked at Lissette with a thousand questions flooding his eyes.
"Heed my warning," Lissette moved away from them to step behind a counter and began rummaging through her goods. "Even if you do not take me seriously," she paused and sent a knowing look at Hermione. "Store it in the back of your memory, evil walks the earth yet again…do not forget."
"We'll remember," Hermione offered sweetly while gritting her teeth, and practically shoved Harry towards the door when she wasn't looking. "Thank you and have a good day."
They had just stepped outside when Lissette stopped them once again. "Mr. Potter," she called. "This may help you," a flash of gold sailed through the air and he caught it just as he would catch the Snitch, nimbly and gracefully. "Perhaps the Necklace of Tears will help you understand."
He opened his mouth to say something in response when Hermione firmly shook her head and guided him away from the loony woman.
"In shadows and dreams," the old hag whispered to herself as she watched them leave through the streaked glass of her windows. "They are always watching. Be prepared Harry Potter, for the time is coming when your strength and love shall be tested by fire and sorrow. And you Hermione Granger, will believe."
~*~
"Really, have you ever heard something so absurd?" Hermione was still steaming as they hurried out of Knockturn Alley. "Scared of the dark, humph," she scowled. "What was the woman thinking?"
Harry walked beside her, not bothering to offer up his own thoughts about their strange encounter as Hermione continued to vent.
"Harry?" she turned to look at him, pausing in her own ramblings.
"Er – well," he stuttered as they made their way through the streets towards Flourish and Botts. "There could be something worth remembering about what she said," he didn't look at her.
"Harry," she looked at him in surprise. "Please, please don't tell me you believed her," she looked imploringly at him. "She's probably just a crazy old woman who likes to make up faulty predictions to scare people."
"But," he began, remembering Professor Trelawney's predictions in his third year and her most recent one from last term. "What if she's telling the truth Hermione?" he raked a hand through his hair. "It's got to mean something," there was worry in his eyes.
"Fine," Hermione conceded, wanting to be fair and look at things from every side, even though everything inside her was hesitant to believe a word the woman had spoken. "What if she is?" she asked. "But what does she expect us to do? Sleep with the lights on every night?" she shook her head and gave him a hard look. "I may not always trust your judgment Harry, and you know how I feel about Divination and fortune telling. But if you feel that she's telling us even one ounce of truth, then I'll help you anyway I can."
~*~
"There you two are! It's about bloody time!" Ron's voice rang out loudly, drawing stern glances from other shoppers near him and getting a scowl and an elbow in the ribs from a red faced Lavender. "Oww," he rubbed his side. "What was that for?" he asked her. "They're the ones that are late," a look of childlike petulance on his freckled face.
"Git," Lavender shook her head, her blonde hair swinging gently across her shoulders as she tried to hide a smile at his forlorn expression. "Just because they're late doesn't mean you have to cause a scene," she pointed out patiently.
"Sorry," Hermione said hurriedly before Ron could say anything more. "We got distracted and lost track of time," she trailed off as they came to a stop in front of them.
His blue eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at both of them in turn. "Distracted you say?" he arched an eyebrow, crossed his long arms, and sniggered. "Oh I'm sure you were distracted," he reached behind him and withdrew a copy of The Daily Prophet from his back pocket. "In fact, everyone knows just how distracted the two of you were," he shook his head and waved the paper at them.
Hermione blushed as she saw their picture yet again. Snatching the newspaper from his hand, she rolled it back up with a scowl. "For your information," she smacked him on the arm with it. "That is not the reason we were late," she propped her hands on her hips and gave him an exasperated look.
"Oh?" the eyebrow went up even higher. "Well I just assumed and all," he shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, my best friends say they'll meet me in an hour, they're late, and there's a picture of them kissing on the front page of The Daily Prophet," he tilted his head to the side. "What was I supposed to think?"
"Stop being an ass Ron," Lavender scowled again, giving him another sharp jab with her elbow at his insinuations of Harry and Hermione's actions. "If Hermione says they were sidetracked by something else, then that's what happened," she gave him a level stare.
He bit his lip and sighed, slightly unnerved by her stern look. "You're right Lav," he smiled and gave up his teasing. "Sorry Hermione, I didn't mean to make you mad," he apologized and rubbed the back of his neck. "Really I didn't."
Lavender beamed at him, letting him know that he was temporarily back in her good graces, at least until he made another thoughtless comment. At her look, he felt the heat color his ears. "So," he cleared his throat and did his best to hide his goofy grin. "What were you really doing then? Lavender and I were wondering when you'd turn up."
"We," Hermione shot a look at Harry who had yet to speak since meeting up with Ron and Lavender. A slight frown creased her forehead as she noted his silence and the look of concentration on his face. She stored it in the back of her mind, deciding to talk to him about it later and hoping he wasn't cross with her. "Were talking to a crackpot Seer," she rolled her eyes before remembering Lavender's love of Divination, and the mystical and mystifying Professor Trelawney. Mystical and mystifying indeed, Hermione snorted inwardly. More like the moronic and mental Professor Trelawney.
"Sorry Lavender," she apologized hastily.
Lavender only shrugged her slim shoulders. "Divination isn't for everyone," she said with a smile and a toss of her head. "And not everyone who dabbles in Divination is really a true Seer like Professor Trelawney."
At her comment, Ron stifled a grunt, Hermione fought to keep her lips from twitching, and Harry said nothing. Lavender remained blissfully unaware of their actions.
"Harry," Ron had sidled over to him during the lull in their conversation, and to keep from bursting out into wild laughter. "What's wrong with you? Cat got your tongue?" then he snickered and a sly look filled his eyes as he glanced at an unsuspecting Hermione. "Or, in this case I suppose I should say, Hermione got your tongue?" he joked crudely, forgetting what sharp elbows Lavender had and that a slap from Hermione could rearrange his facial features.
"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione spit out with a horrified breath and moved to smack him yet again.
"Oh no, allow me," Lavender offered and cuffed him on the back of his head with her open hand, saving Hermione the trouble, before he could move out of the way. "Prat," she admonished him with an appalled look on her face.
"Oww," he ruefully rubbed the stinging spot, mentally noting that he shouldn't make Lavender mad either. "What?" he asked, innocently, knowing full well why she'd hit him.
Lavender huffed. "Have you ever heard of tact Ron? Use it sometime," she glowered and crossed her arms. "Heaven's, what were you thinking?"
"Ugh," he rolled his eyes. "But Lavender, they're my best friends; they know when I'm kidding," he paused. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he rushed out another apology when he saw both sets of eyes narrow. "I'm sorry," he said more sincerely. "Really," he sent one of his ear to ear grins to Lavender, turning her harsh look softer.
"Girls," he muttered out of the side of his mouth to the silent boy next to him. "None of them can take a joke…right Harry?"
"Hmm?" Harry finally looked up; startled out of whatever deep thought he was in. "What was that Ron?" he blinked in confusion.
Ron's eyes narrowed again. "What's up with him?" he asked Hermione with a questioning look on his face. She and Lavender hadn't heard his last comment, thankfully.
Hermione bit her lip in concentration. "Let's go somewhere else and talk," she suggested as she shifted to the side to allow someone to reach the door of the bookstore. "It's too crowded around here."
~*~
They were seated at a table near an empty corner at the ice cream parlor, half filled bowls before them, as Hermione began to recite what had happened. Harry added here and there with a nod or an occasional grunt of some sort. Across from them, Ron and Lavender listened with rapt attention, after of course; Ron expressed his jealousy that they had gone into Knockturn Alley without him. When she'd finished, Ron let out a low whistle from between his teeth and Lavender leaned forward in interest.
"And who told you all this?" she asked, her blue eyes narrowing in concentration after Hermione had finished recounting the tale "What was her name?"
"Erm – Madam Lissette," Hermione frowned in thought, trying to conjure up an image of the wooden sign to make sure it was the correct name. "Yes, yes, Madam Lissette. What?" she asked as Lavender's face turned a shade lighter.
"You're completely sure it was Madam Lissette?" she gaped at her, a look of awe filling her wide eyes.
"That's what she said her name was," Hermione shared a confused look with Ron and Harry. "And the one that was on the sign. Why?"
Lavender cleared her throat. "Madam Lissette is one of the most sought after Seers in our time. Even Professor Trelawney thinks highly of her," she informed them. "I've read about her in a Divination history text at Hogwarts. But there wasn't that much information regarding her, just a small part saying that she's a bit of a recluse, keeps to herself and all. She's known for giving rather sensational readings, though some of them have been slightly depressing," she tapped a fingernail on the tabletop, trying to remember more information. "But all of her predictions she's given over the years, have come true. She's been around for ages, although most people have to schedule an appointment weeks out to have her read for them."
"Obviously this is one of her depressing ones," Harry said, wryly, speaking for the first time.
Hermione gulped, inwardly praying and hoping that Lavender was talking about a different Madam Lissette, and not the withered woman they'd just talked too. "Did it say where she is based out of? Where her shop is?"
"Here," Lavender nodded sagely. "In Knockturn Alley."
Hermione gulped; the feeling of fear that had pricked her throat had now sent a rod of ice down her spine. "So," she began hesitantly. "Let me make sure I understand this Lavender. Are you saying we should be worried?" she shared a look with Harry who looked back with a resigned look on his face.
"Yes Hermione," Lavender gave a slow, deliberate nod. "I know you don't put much faith in Divination, but trust me on this. If you've talked to Madam Lissette, then that's exactly what I'm saying."
At that, Ron gave another whistle and looked at Harry. "Well mate," he began with some trepidation in his eyes. "I think we're in for a hell of a year."
"Right then," Hermione said briskly, masking the ominous feeling she had with bossiness. "First things first I say, we need to find out exactly what this animus caterra is," she began to plan their course of action with all the strategy of a seasoned general. "Which means…"
"A trip to the library," Ron finished for her with a weary groan. "And endless research."
"Well, I'm all ears if you've got a better plan Ron," Hermione pretended not to hear the despondent sound in his voice.
He only shook his head 'no' and reached out to rest his arm on the back of Lavender's chair, his eyes downcast.
Beside her, Harry let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his temples, a headache was forming. Dull and throbbing, it threatened to engulf him completely. "Ugh," he grunted as Hermione reached over to lay a soothing hand on his shoulder. "It's always one thing after another isn't it? Overgrown snakes, Voldemort, Malfoy," he didn't see the uneasiness in their eyes when he said the Dark Lord's name out loud. "And now something that creeps around in the dark that we should be scared of," he paused and dropped his eyes. "Why can't I ever have a normal year?" he asked no one in particular.
There was a brief moment of silence until Ron's snort broke it. "Because," he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "You're Harry Potter," and he left it at that.
"Sometimes," Harry whispered to the table and only loud enough for Hermione to hear. "I wish I wasn't."
~*~
The rest of their stay in Diagon Alley was rather somber, each person lost in their own thoughts about Madam Lissette's prediction. As there wasn't a library for Hermione to visit, her plans were put on hold until she returned to Hogwarts for their sixth year, much to her dismay. Soon it was time for Harry, Hermione, and Ron to return back to the Burrow, with a promise to Lavender that they'd see her on the Hogwarts Express in a few weeks and a good-bye kiss from a blushing Ron.
"There you three are," Mrs. Weasley came breezing through the living room, an apron still tied around her plump waist. "I was wondering when you'd come back."
"Sorry," Ron muttered as he rubbed the ashes from his hair. "We kind of lost track of time."
Mrs. Weasley looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes. "And how was Lavender?" she asked with a smile.
Ron nearly gagged at that, his ears turning a flaming red. "F – fine," he stuttered and scuffed his shoes on the floor, not daring to meet his mother's gaze.
"She's such a nice girl," Mrs. Weasley sighed, not caring that she was embarrassing her youngest son to death.
Behind Ron, Harry and Hermione suppressed their own smiles and laughter at Mrs. Weasley's comments, knowing that it would only embarrass Ron further if they were to act on them.
"Dinner will be ready soon," she finally dropped the subject and started off for the kitchen again. "I hope you didn't spoil your appetites with junk food," she admonished them.
"No Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said sweetly. "We're starved," she shrugged her shoulders in a silent apologize to both boys. The truth was, none of them were the least bit hungry, their minds being preoccupied with other thoughts than food.
"Yeah mum," Ron took over the lie, glad that his mother's back was to him so she wouldn't see past it. "Starved."
"Good," she called back. "Your dad and Ginny should be home any minute," she glanced at the clock. "In fact, they're on their way now," the hands for Mr. Weasley and Ginny were switching to 'home'.
"Come on," Ron suggested and headed for the stairs. "Let's go upstairs for a bit."
They began their climb; stopping only once when Harry announced that he needed to use the bathroom and that he'd join them in Ron's room when he was finished. Ron and Hermione both nodded and continued, leaving Harry by himself.
"Not a word of this to your mum," Hermione reminded him with a stern glance as he pushed open the door.
"What do you take me for?" Ron was indignant. "I'm not a bloody fool Hermione, despite what other people think," his eyes narrowed slightly. "She'd blow her top if she knew you and Harry went skulking about in Knockturn Alley."
She sighed and flopped down on his bed. "I know Ron," she chewed on her bottom lip. "Sorry, I guess what Madam Lissette and Lavender said really put me on edge. I didn't mean to imply that you'd go spouting off to your mum, or anyone for that matter."
Ron nodded in acceptance of her apology as he leaned up against the wall and folded his long arms around him. "I know," he rubbed his face with both hands. "And I know what you mean about being put on edge and all," he cast a quick glance towards the door, making sure that Harry wasn't going to walk through it at any second. "What do you think Hermione?" he asked, his forehead wrinkling in concern.
"About what?" she had been lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, when he asked his question.
He paused. "About Harry."
"What about him?" she pushed herself into a sitting position, tucking her long legs underneath her and looked at him warily.
He scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," it was his turn to sigh. "I mean, how do you think he's going to hold up with all this?" he spread his hands. "He didn't look too good when we left Diagon Alley," he sighed again. "He's right you know? He never has had a normal year."
"I know," Hermione said softly and her eyes went thoughtful as she considered Ron's question. "I don't know how he'll react really," she finally admitted. "You know Harry just as well as I do, he usually tries to hide anything that he's feeling."
"Yeah, I know. Let's just hope it doesn't come down to a repeat performance of last term," Ron grumbled at the memory.
"Oh no," Hermione shook her head determinedly. "He won't even have a chance. Not if he knows what's good for him," she crossed her arms. "I'll talk to him Ron," she said after a moment of silence. "He can't hide everything from us."
Ron smiled. "You mean he can't hide everything from you," he shook his head. "Let's face it Hermione, you know that boy inside and out."
She flushed and smiled sheepishly. Just then, the door opened and Harry slipped inside. "And what are you two up too?" he queried as he sat down on the bed next to Hermione.
"Nothing much," she shrugged and reached over to grasp his hand. "Just talking."
"Oh?" he arched an eyebrow. "About what?"
He got no further in his questioning when Ron's bedroom door opened yet again. This time, it was Ginny Weasley that poked her head around the corner.
"Harry!" she squealed in delight, her green eyes taking on a new shine to them when she caught sight of him.
"Hey Gin," he returned with a smile, clutching Hermione's hand a bit tighter than necessary. Although she'd admitted defeat in winning Harry's heart, one could never be too careful, especially when it was one's best friend's younger sister.
"Hermione!" she exclaimed with the same fervor that she'd greeted Harry with. "You're both here!"
Hermione smiled and nodded. "Your brother was only too kind to invite us both," she shrugged and gave Harry's hand a sympathetic squeeze. "So, here we are."
"Excellent," Ginny was all smiles as she looked from one to the other. "When did you arrive?" she asked, propping herself up against the doorframe and crossing her arms.
"This afternoon," Harry replied, thankful that she didn't appear to be the least bit upset at seeing them together. "We've actually just gotten back from Diagon Alley."
"So I've heard," Ginny scowled and shot a look at her brother. "And I've missed it because I had to go with dad to see ancient Aunt Ida," she wrinkled her nose. "Her house smells of dirty socks," she winced in memory.
Ron tried to bite back a smile at his sister's grumbling. "Sorry Gin," he snickered.
"Stuff it," she snipped. "You have to go next time," she grinned in supreme satisfaction at his crestfallen look. "You only got out of it because mum said you didn't have to go."
"And I'm eternally thankful for that," Ron said smugly. "I have no desire to be fawned over by her," he shuddered.
"No," Harry decided to join in. "You'd rather be fawned over by Lavender," he chuckled as Ron's face turned a deep red.
"Stop," Hermione chided him gently and swatted him on the arm.
"Oh all right," Harry gave in and sent her a guilty grin.
"Anyway," Ginny cleared her throat and straightened from her position by the door. "I've been sent to tell you that dinner is ready."
"Thanks," Ron shoved away from the wall as Harry and Hermione both rose from their place on the bed. "We'll be right down."
~*~
Once dinner was over and the table cleared, with the help of Hermione and Ginny, Harry excused himself, wanting to slip away from the hustle and bustle of a packed Weasley house to sit on their garden bench, wrapped up in silence and thought as he watched the sun slip beyond the horizon. He hadn't eaten or spoken much during their meal, preferring to let those around him do the chattering.
"Harry?" Hermione's soft voice cut through his thoughts like a knife.
"Hmm?" he turned his head ever so slightly to squint at her through the growing darkness, a slight smile playing about his lips. "What's wrong Hermione? Are you alright?" he took in the look of worry on her face as she stood next to him and his face became serious.
Her heart quickened at his words. Here she was coming out to see if he was doing alright and he was asking if there was something wrong with her. "No, nothing's wrong," she shook her head and smiled to prove it. "Can I join you?" she motioned to the bench with her hand as her teeth worried her bottom lip while she waited for his okay.
He chuckled and held out his hand to her in an inviting gesture. "Of course," he grinned and pulled her into his lap before she had the chance to sit down next to him on the bench. "You never have to ask Hermione," he sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist as she settled her head against his shoulder.
"Well, I didn't want to bother you," she said quietly, trailing one hand through the soft hair at the back of his neck while the other hand rested lightly on his shoulder.
He glanced down at her, his eyes awash with love and affection for the girl he held in his arms. "You could never bother me," he leaned forward slightly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Never."
She smiled and slid her free hand up to run lightly across his face, mentally noting the fact that he should start shaving soon. "I love you Harry," she whispered, her eyes growing softer in the fading light and tilted her face up to his.
He dipped his head to meet hers and placed a gentle kiss against her lips. "I love you too," he breathed out after he pulled away and caught her hand in his to press a kiss on her palm. "So," he began nonchalantly as he traced his thumb over her knuckles. "What's up?"
"What makes you think anything is up?" she teased him with a raised eyebrow.
He shot her his crooked grin, the same one that made her knees weak when she saw it. "I can tell by that look in your eyes," he tapped the end of her nose with his finger. "So, spill," he settled her more comfortably in his arms as he waited for her to speak.
She hesitated for a moment, fixing her eyes on the hedge that ran along the Weasley's garden. The thick, green foliage was twinkling from multiple fireflies that were nestled among its thick branches, casting a soft glow into the night. Above them, the first signs of stars began to poke through the inky sky, dotting it here and there with shimmering white. A soft breeze filled their senses with the scent of Mrs. Weasley's flowers; creating a private world that only the two of them were inhabitants of. "Are you going to be alright?" she finally blurted out, unsure of any other way she could broach the subject that had been on her mind ever since Diagon Alley.
He was taken aback at her sudden question. "Er – why wouldn't I be?" he asked, confused.
She flushed, thankful that the evening covered it from his view. "Well, I – I," she shifted slightly in his lap so that her back was now pressed against his chest. "You know, after everything that happened today, I just wanted to make sure you'd be alright and all," she trailed off.
He didn't answer with words, at least not right away, just tightened his hold on her and pulled her closer to his chest. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he drank in the scent of her hair, relishing in the fact that she seemed to fit so perfectly in his arms. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her, slow and sure, while she waited for his answer.
Finally, he did. "As long as I've got you Hermione," he whispered, his breath tickling her neck. "I'm more than alright," he kissed her under her ear and caused her to shiver in his arms. "I can do anything. But thank you for being so concerned about me."
"You're welcome," she sighed in contentment, fully enjoying the sensations he was creating inside her, swirling around and around like warm water. "Harry?" she whispered once again after making sure her voice was steady.
"What is it love?" his face was now pressed into her hair, rather than on her shoulder or her neck.
"You're not mad at me are you?" she asked slowly.
"Mad?" he frowned. "Why would I be mad at you?"
"Well, you know," she faltered for the right words. "I – I wasn't exactly all that open-minded when we left Madam Lissette's today, and you haven't said much to me since then."
"I'm not mad at you Hermione," he was quick to assure her. "And I'm sorry if I made you feel like I was. I guess I was just thinking things over."
"It's okay," she curled a hand into the fold of his shirt, basking in the sense of safety that followed him around like a cloud. "Harry?" she whispered again.
"Yes?" there was a hint of laughter in his tone.
"Are you really afraid of the dark?" she asked in a small voice.
It was his turn to sigh and he waited for a few seconds before answering. "Yes and no," he admitted as he ran his fingers through her hair, letting the silky strands slip between his fingers. "It's not that the dark scares me so much, I mean, I can face Voldemort," he felt her shudder at his name. "But I guess what I'm more afraid of is what can happen to others in the dark," he paused. "I, I never did tell you what happened during the Triwizard Tournament did I?" he stuttered out suddenly.
"No," she answered softly.
"Do you want to know?" he licked his suddenly dry lips.
"Only if you want to tell me," she turned her head so she could look into his eyes. Usually they were shinning with happiness, or twinkling in devilish mischief due to some prank he and Ron would be cooking up. This time they neither shone nor twinkled, but they were sad and hollow instead. "You know you don't have too though," she reminded him gently.
"No, no, I want to tell you," he said slowly. "I should have told you last year, but," he shrugged, not wanting to dredge up that particular painful memory although he always seemed to come back to it, like a vicious, never-ending circle that he couldn't break away from. "You and Ron are my best friends, I – I shouldn't have shut you out like I did."
"Stop it," she placed a hand over his lips to stop his flow of words. Her eyes were burning in their gaze. "When are you going to forgive yourself Harry like the rest of us have?" the look on her face was begging him to let it go and rid himself of the past.
He swallowed hard, unable to ignore the pleading look in her eyes. "When I think I've made up for it," he said hoarsely.
"Will you try if I told you you've more than made up for it?" she tenderly stroked his cheek, wishing she had the power to make him let it go. "Please?"
He shivered lightly at the touch of her hand and his heart fluttered wildly in his chest. "Hermione…" his eyes slipped closed and he drew in a deep breath.
"Don't," she shook her head. "It's time to stop living in the past Harry Potter," she implored him to understand. "Everyone else has accepted what happened for what it was, when will you?" she bit her lip again. "You have a big heart, and you care more for others than yourself, which is why you did what you did…albeit not in a way I would have chosen. But it's time to move on. Let it go Harry, if not for me, then do it for you."
He smiled gently. "How can I say no to that?" his eyes swept over her features. "I can't make any promises Hermione, but I'll do my best to let it go," he licked his lips. "Why on earth did you ever fall in love with me?" he asked after a short pause.
"How could I not?" she asked simply, combing back the hair that fell over his forehead. "I wouldn't care if you were famous or not, because that's not what makes who you are," she kissed his cheek. "It's what's inside that counts the most, your courage, your bravery and kindness, that's what made me fall in love with you."
"I don't deserve you," he said thickly, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.
"You do deserve me," she said simply and laced her arms around his neck, running her hands through his hair. "And let's face it, you're stuck with me."
"I think I like that idea," his breath caught in his throat as she continued to stroke his hair. "Come on," he changed the subject before he lost his nerve. "Up you go," he lifted her off his lap and rose to his feet. "It's time I told you and Ron what really happened during the third task and why I tried to push you both away."
~*~
They both listened attentively as Harry brought up every painful memory of the Triwizard Tournament, Hermione paling and Ron flinching when he spoke of Voldemort's rebirth. When he was done with the events of their fourth year, he went on to tell them of his year as a Slytherin, including Malfoy's part in it. After he was finished, Ron's small bedroom was filled with silence.
"Harry," Ron shook his head. "I know I didn't say this exactly, but, I'm sorry I ever doubted you when you said you didn't put your name in the goblet."
"It's okay Ron," Harry shrugged and sent a smile towards Hermione. "It's in the past," he said slowly, trying to make himself believe his own words. "No use bringing it up anymore." She nodded in agreement.
"Now Malfoy on the other hand," Ron's eyes flashed in anger. "That slimy, sneaky git!" his hands curled into fists. "He better be glad he's not here, I'd do worse this time than petrify him," he thumped a balled hand on his knee.
"Ron," Hermione shot a warning look at him and scowled. "You know you could have gotten into so much trouble for doing that," she crossed her arms. "You were a prefect after all!"
"So?" he shrugged. "It was worth it really," he paused and met Hermione's scowl. "He's a damn git," he cursed. "And he deserves far worse than to be frozen to the floor for what he's done, prefect or no prefect."
At Ron's words, Hermione managed to stifle a yawn and glanced at the clock on Ron's bedside table. "Fine," she conceded to Ron's point of view. "It was nice to see him quiet for once. But as much as I'd like to sit here and mull over the various hexes we could put Malfoy through this year, I'm going to bed," she announced, sliding off the bed and giving Harry a quick kiss on the cheek as she went. "Good night."
Ron only rolled his eyes and grinned at Harry's blushing face. "Good night Hermione," he said amiably. "We'll see you in the morning."
"Night," Harry held onto her hand for a moment longer. "My Hermione," he mouthed to her as she paused in the doorway.
She smiled shyly and slipped out of the room.
Once the door closed Ron let out a hoot of laughter. "Harry old boy," he rubbed his face with his hands. "You've got it bad mate."
"Whatcha mean?" Harry whipped his head round to face him, his face taking on the beginning stages of a burning blush.
"You," Ron chuckled. "I never thought I'd see you get all sappy over a girl."
"Er – yeah, well," Harry mumbled, running a hand through his hair in mild embarrassment.
"It's not a bad thing," Ron was quick to reassure him. "I just, well," he shrugged his shoulders. "Really, I hope I can find what you have with Hermione some day. She's a great girl," he said a bit wistfully. "And I'm glad it's you with her and not someone else."
"She is great isn't she?" Harry sighed, staring down at his hands in his lap. "I – I just can't believe she wants to be with me."
"Well believe it mate," Ron yawned himself. "You were all she thought about last term," he snorted. "I've never seen anyone with more determination than her to get through to you."
"Yeah I know," he sighed heavily. "I wish I hadn't been such a prat really."
Ron shrugged once again. "Just as long as you don't do something like that again," he stared at him. "Then we'll be fine."
"I couldn't even if I'd wanted too," Harry shook his head a bit soberly. "I made a promise Ron," he looked at the red head with a steady gaze. "And I intend to keep it."
"That's good," Ron nodded in agreement. "I'd hate to have to beat you to a bloody pulp," he grinned.
Harry smiled and lay back on the bed, hands laced behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. On the other side of the room, Ron was shuffling through his dresser drawers, pulling out his night clothes to get ready for bed. "Hey Ron?"
"Yeah?" he paused and turned to look at him.
"You'll find it."
Ron gave a slight smile. "Yeah, someday. Or maybe I've already have."