Author's Note: Hmmm. Not as pleased with this chapter as I have been with the previous – no significant events to speak of; some minor explanations, nothing big. Seems a bit like filler to me, but I'd like your opinions all the same. Muchos thankos to my reviewers (my spell checker is going haywire with all this mangled English):
Sesella Stellae – I know – romantic scenes have been few and far between in this fic, but there's a tiny little something in this chapter that might satisfy you. I just don't want to have them all over each other too soon (but rest assured, there will be a point where they are all over each other).
Dracosgurl – thanks for the compliments; I'm glad you like the story
Twisted Silver Dagger – (previously Crazy Bitch, am I right?) thanks for all the reviews; I like knowing people's thoughts as the story progresses, and you've got some great comments for me. You're right about the revealing information abruptly thing – I am hopeless at building suspense. Hence, I tend to just blurt things out instead of working up to it. *Sigh*
lxl-water-spirit-lxl – yay! For the encouragement. I was just a teensy bit worried since I only had a few reviews and was starting to think it was a lost cause. And, yes, Draco/Hermione rules. As if I even needed to tell you that.
Athene Saile – I mention all my reviewers! You make me happy!
Broom – short, sweet and to the point – thanks!
Kou Shun'u – yes, this takes place in the summer before their sixth year. Glad to hear you'll be carrying on reading.
By the way, I've only just realised that my settings will not allow me to accept anonymous reviews – I've just changed this, so please do review if you get a chance.
Chapter Six
The next few days were among the strangest that Harry had ever experienced. Fights were common, and expected, since Ron, Fred and George were hardly happy about being cooped up with Draco Malfoy. But Harry... Harry found himself starting to get along with him. At first it has only been out of necessity - it seemed to make sense that he should be on good terms with someone who was supposed to be his Protector. But following their unspoken pact to try and be civil to each other, Harry found himself actually beginning to like the blond Slytherin - not that he'd admit that to Ron, or anyone else, for that matter. Well, possibly Hermione.
Something else happened to improve his mood, too: Lupin arrived. He, it transpired, was Moody's replacement, and had been sent to look after them all. He greeted Hermione and Draco quite warmly, and thanked them profusely for looking after Harry for five years. Apparently, Lupin had known that Harry had Protectors, but he didn't know who they were.
"How come," Harry asked, once they'd settled down, "everyone's getting told who my Protectors are now? What happened to 'utmost secrecy', and everything?"
Lupin sipped his tea and regarded Harry with calm eyes. "Secrecy doesn't seem to matter much to Dumbledore anymore. The fact is, Hermione was seen by fourteen Death Eaters at the Burrow. She used advanced magic to save you; that kind of thing isn't going to go unreported. Our only saving grace right now is that Draco wasn't seen. It won't be easy for them to work out who she's been working with all these years."
A wave of cold washed over Harry. He glanced across to where Hermione lay on the sofa, dozing, watched closely by Draco. The notion that Voldemort might use them as a weapon and kill them in the process brought bile up in his throat.
Lupin followed his gaze. "Dumbledore mentioned that they have a ... special relationship."
Harry looked over at him and immediately suspected that Lupin knew more about this than he was letting on. "Do you... think they'll ever be together? I mean, really together?"
"I wish I knew."
Hermione was completely asleep now. Draco stood up and whispered, "I'll put her to bed." He bent down and slipped his arms underneath her frail form. Harry had thought the movement would wake her up, but she just shifted into Draco's arms and he carried her away effortlessly.
Harry glanced across to Ron, who was busy having a rather violent game of chess, slamming his taken pieces onto the table with a great deal more viciousness than was strictly necessary. The last few days hadn't been pleasant for him - seeing Hermione so close to Draco Malfoy, sworn enemy, was a lot to cope with for someone who'd spent the last two years fancying her to bits.
Harry sighed. The whole ordeal had thrown everyone into a strange, robotic stupor. The Weasleys were slowly adapting to the fact that they were in mortal danger, and would continue to be so until Voldemort was killed. Harry wanted to tell them, speaking from experience, that it got easier to live with (ha), but the truth was, it didn't.
Lupin seemed to have an idea of how he was feeling, which relieved Harry no end. It was great having someone to talk to; someone who would give him real answers when he asked questions.
On one occasions, he managed to catch Hermione on her own. She hugged him and, before he could stop her, apologised profusely for not telling him the truth five years ago. She'd wanted to, she said, and it was so difficult to hold it back at times - like when he'd returned from that awful experience at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. "We were so confused," she'd said. "We'd been so worried throughout the entire Tournament, but other than do our best to keep an eye on you, help you out as much as possible and cast the protection charms, there wasn't a lot we could do. When you got to the centre of the maze... well, we knew you were in danger, of course - the Bonding Charm made sure of that. We told Dumbledore, but he didn't know any more than we did." She buried her head in her hands. "We should have done a better job of Protecting you. If we had... maybe things would have been different. And not just that year - all the years."
Harry had stared at her for a few moments. And then it hit him. He, Harry James Potter, was the only thing that mattered in her life. Protecting him was all she knew; her work only meant something because it might help her one day. If she failed with him... she failed with everything. And even though she loved Draco completely and utterly, she would not get involved because, in her eyes, it might compromise her effectiveness as a Protector. Harry couldn't explain how he knew this - he just did. And it stunned him. So much so, he almost forgot to comfort Hermione, who was still sitting there with her head in her hands. He put his arms around her - something he couldn't ever remember doing voluntarily; hadn't it always been her who flung herself at him? - and told her in no uncertain terms that he had never and would never hold her responsible for anything that had happened in the past five years. "I know you, Hermione. All this secrecy... it doesn't matter to me, because I do still know you, and I know that you will have done the best you could have done. And I'm very grateful."
She'd snorted shakily. "I don't want you to be grateful, Harry. I want you to be safe."
"Me too." He agreed.
Through further talks with Hermione and Draco, Harry learnt a lot more. For example, Hermione had been with him through most of his experiences in past years. First year, she'd been with him up to the actual battle for, Harry realised now, obvious reasons. Second year, she'd been Petrified by the basilisk. Apparently Draco gone to Dumbledore, angry and wanting to come clean with Harry so that they could go and get the basilisk together. Dumbledore, needless to say, had vetoed this plan, and that was that. Third year, Hermione had been with him through it all, although that time he hadn't actually met Voldemort.
Fourth year... that had been the year that Hermione and Draco had finally begun to understand what they were up against. Both had been completely fooled by Crouch-Junior-as-Moody, and the truth, when it came out, terrified them. Their faith in their own abilities had been badly shaken; they'd wanted to tell Harry everything right then, but again, Dumbledore had said no.
"The summer after fourth year," Harry had said at one point, during a conversation with Draco, "when I ran into those Dementors - why didn't you come and help me?"
Draco looked shifty. "Ah. Yes. Well, that's a difficult one. We should have come. But as far as we both knew, you were being watched by the Order. We thought you'd be safe. Hermione was with Dumbledore and the Weasleys at Sirius Black's house when she got the feeling that you were in danger. She couldn't exactly Apparate out in front of a bunch of people who weren't supposed to know who she was. But she did say something to Dumbledore the second she got the chance, then spoke to me by Floo. Dumbledore told us to stay put, and he dealt with it."
But Harry was only half-listening now - his heart had clenched painfully at the reminder of Sirius. He suddenly found he had another, more important question. "Did... Did Sirius know about you two?"
Draco's eyes gave way to a flicker of concern, before returning to their usual emotionless grey state. "Like most people, he... he knew you had Protectors, but he didn't know who."
Harry was ashamed to hear his voice cracking slightly. "If he'd known..."
"Don't," Draco interrupted sharply. "Don't start thinking about the 'ifs'. You'll only make things harder for yourself."
"I can't help it. I just wish he was still here."
"We all do."
If someone had told Harry at any point over the last five years, that he would one day be sitting, close to tears, on a sofa with Draco Malfoy and pouring out some of his innermost feelings, he would have laughed scornfully and sent them to St. Mungo's. But to his own immense surprise, the two of them had formed a rudimentary kind of friendship over the past few days, which pleased Hermione a great deal. "Two of my best friends, getting along at last. I just wish... oh, Ron, give it up and get over here."
Ron heaved a great sigh and looked up from his wizard chess set. "I am busy, thank you very much."
At that exact moment, the white queen got into a huge catfight with Ron's black queen, and won, shouting a triumphant "Checkmate!" as she rolled her battered opponent off the edge of the board. He looked up dejectedly. "Or not so busy."
Hermione dragged him to the sofa where Draco was sitting. "Look... I know the two of you haven't got along for five years, so it's bound to be hard to drop the hostility, but... can you at least try?"
Ron glared at Draco suspiciously. Draco just looked placidly back at him. "I'm willing," he said, shrugging.
Ron took a deep breath. Harry mentally willed him to at least be nice about it, even if he didn't want to be Draco's friend - and that was practically a given. To Harry's relief, Ron nodded slightly, and stuck out his hand. Draco, surprised, shook it. Hermione beamed, and hugged both of them. "Thank you," she said, and ran off. Harry could hear faint sniffling from the bathroom.
Draco shook his head. "I think we may have just made her week."
Fred and George came into the room, each carrying a six-pack of butterbeer. "Alright, everyone?"
"You do know you can't get drunk on them, don't you?" asked Draco.
"What on Earth makes you think we plan to get drunk, Malfoy?" asked Fred, with a very un-Fred-like sneer. "We haven't got that depressed yet. No - we're merely stocking up on supplies." They continued on through to the kitchen and shoved the butterbeers into the fridge.
"Supplies!" exclaimed Hermione, emerging from the bathroom, without a trace of tears on her face. "Who might you be supplying?"
"Hermione," said George, with a touch of exasperation, "you're always so suspicious of us."
"Yeah," Fred chimed in. "We thought you might ease up on us a bit now we'd left school."
She raised an eyebrow. "You are joking, aren't you? If anything, I'll be watching you more closely. Two complete nutters, at large in the world without a serious thought in their brains? I should lock you in a cupboard."
"Ah, we'd only escape," said George, grinning.
"That's why I haven't bothered."
"Cupboard," repeated Draco, and wandered off dreamily.
The four remaining boys shot curious looks at Hermione, who simply twisted her mouth into a smile and said, "He does that sometimes."
He returned about fifteen minutes later and invited Hermione to throw knives at his head. Apparently this was nothing unusual, because Hermione promptly got up and took the multitude of silver-bladed weapons he was offering. He stood against the wall, positioning a large slab of thick wood behind his body and Hermione backed away to a point halfway across the room. The four of them looked on in a morbid fascination.
"Um," said Harry nervously.
"Don't worry, Harry,"said Hermione, not taking her eyes off Draco, "I know what I'm doing."
"Yeah, Harry, she knows what she's doing," said Ron eagerly. Evidently the Malfoy-hating instinct hadn't been totally knocked out of him, then, thought Harry.
Hermione took one of the knives and placed the rest on the coffee table nearby. She stretched her arm back, and paused. She paused for so long, in fact, that Harry began to think she wasn't going to do it. Then, without warning, her arm came forward and the knife flew, incredibly fast, from her hand. It landed with a thwack in the wooden board, just millimetres from Draco's ear. He remained perfectly still, and his expression didn't change.
Hermione did this a second time, then a third, and a fourth, until all ten knives had been used, and Draco was pinned in place. A couple of knives had snagged in the folds of his clothing, so he waited for Hermione to remove them before stepping away from the board.
"You... do this often, then?" asked Harry, more than a little worried. It just didn't seem right that his two Protectors, two people who, he reminded himself, were in love with each other, should spend their free time throwing knives at each other. He noted with alarm that Draco and Hermione were reversing their roles; Draco had the knives and Hermione stood against the board.
Suddenly Ron was not so enthusiastic. "I-I really don't think this is a good idea."
Neither replied; obviously this took a lot of concentration, and none could be spared to answer questions. Harry studied Draco's face carefully. To the untrained eye, it was impassive, flat. But Harry, who had begun to learn various ways of detecting emotions in Draco Malfoy, noticed two things. The first thing was that his jaw had tightened to the point where Harry was sure it would snap if it was tightened anymore. The second thing was that deep beneath the cold, hard grey of his eyes, Harry could see a flicker of something that plainly said, "I don't want to be here, doing this."
But still he pulled back his arm, and proceeded to do exactly as Hermione had done, tenderly helping her off the board when they'd finished. Only then did they answer the barrage of questions that came their way.
"What. The. Bloody. Hell?" was all Ron could manage before he had to sit down and take a nice, deep, relaxing breath.
Hermione glanced at Draco and said, "It's an exercise in trust. We started it just after first year. The fact was... neither of us were really sure about trusting each other after what we'd had to do. I wasn't used to a Draco who hated me, and he wasn't used to a Hermione who ignored him."
"So Dumbledore suggested this - knife-throwing. It's an excellent form of non-magical self-defence, and it's our way of proving our trust to one another if we're feeling doubtful."
Harry looked from one to the other and frowned. He couldn't imagine, having seen and heard how they felt about each other, that either would ever have doubts of any kind, least of all about trust. And yet it made sense, in a strange, twisted way. Why shouldn't they, like every couple, have trust issues? Because they're not a couple, said the rational part of his mind, and whether you want to believe it or not, that's your fault.
* * *
"I can't believe we're doing this," hissed Ginny.
It was nearly midnight. All the Weasleys except Ginny had gone to bed an hour earlier, but Hermione and Draco were still up. As were Harry and Ginny, although their predicaments couldn't be more different. Harry, in a fit of guilt over the current state of Draco and Hermione's relationship, had decided that his best contribution at that point would be to try and get them together. In order to do that, he needed information, and to get information, he needed to run a reconnaissance mission. For which Ron would be utterly useless. As far as Harry could tell, Ron's feelings for Hermione did not even come close to Draco's, but that didn't change the fact that he still had those feelings. Hence, dragging Ron on a mission which, Harry hoped, would ultimately end in Hermione and Draco getting together, probably wasn't the best course of action.
So he'd enlisted Ginny instead. Ginny, who, as Hermione's best female friend, had noticed early on that there was something between them. Her attempts at interrogation had proved fruitless, so when Harry had approached her talking about a possible suicide mission, she'd jumped at the chance. After all, who cared if they would face certain death if they were discovered?
This was the reason that they were currently huddled under the invisibility cloak, creeping as silently as possibly towards the door of the living room. They tiptoed inside and found Hermione sitting Indian-style on the sofa, wriggling her toes and reading a book. She reached up and absently pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. It was such a typical Hermione movement that Harry almost believed that they were back in the Gryffindor Common Room; that he and Ron had just returned from some midnight jaunt and Hermione had waited up for them so she could scold them as usual. He was about to remove the invisibility cloak and greet her, when there was a burst of noise from behind him.
He and Ginny jumped, and turned around. It took Harry a few seconds to realise that the noise was not Death Eaters bursting into the house; it was, in fact, music. It sounded vaguely familiar to Harry, but he couldn't place it. Then Draco strolled into the room, an exceptionally cheery expression on his face. They watched as he approached Hermione, still engrossed in her book.
She looked up at him and clicked her tongue in disapproval. "I can't believe you've still got this ridiculous obsession."
"Hey!" Draco looked indignant. "There's no need to be so crude. Now, while I will admit that liking Frank Simadra-"
"Sinatra - how many times do I have to tell you?"
"Sinatra, then - it might be ridiculous, but it's not an obsession."
"Define 'obsession'," Hermione muttered, but Harry could tell that she was only joking.
"Anyway," said Draco, tickling her toes gently, "you did promise."
Hermione slammed her book shut and stared up at him incredulously. "I most certainly did not!"
"You did!"
"Ha! I said that I might, possibly, maybe think about considering teaching you. I didn't say that I would."
"But you implied it."
"Why, you-" she socked him on the arm, but he caught her hand as it swung and pulled her into a standing position.
"You know you want to," he leered, moving closer to her.
Harry, still watching, began to worry about exactly what it was that Hermione had said she'd teach Draco. His fears were dispelled, however, when he saw Hermione sigh and arrange it so that she and Draco were in what was obviously a dancing position. "See, you move your feet forwards, and I move mine backwards. You have to lead me. Ugh, this is such a fast song to learn to; are you sure you don't want something slower?"
"Very sure," said Draco, and so they danced. Harry marvelled at their ability to dance so well together; Draco's smoothness, Hermione's easy grace. They blended into one another, spinning and twirling and dipping across the room. By the time they were finished, her face was slightly flushed and her eyes were sparkling.
"You don't need to be taught," she said, stepping away from him.
He closed the gap once again and raised a hand to her hair. "Oh yes I do," he breathed, "just not dancing."
They stared at each other for a long time, and Harry had the feeling that this kind of thing happened quite often, but that they never actually crossed the line. The wave of guilt and sadness crashed over him once more. He watched as, slowly, Hermione blinked and gulped. "Your turn," she whispered, and closed her eyes, as though in preparation for a particularly painful slap.
Draco watched her for a second, then closed his eyes in the same way as Hermione had done. "I... We can't do this," he said.
She nodded and opened her eyes, smiling weakly at him. "I know."
Harry felt sick. He knew exactly what had just happened and he didn't like it one bit. He dragged a confused Ginny out of the room, unable to watch any more. She followed him to his room, and only when they were inside did she throw off the invisibility cloak and ask, "What the hell was that?"
He sat down on the edge of his bed, a heavy weight inside him dragging him down. "I... I think it's happened before."
"What has? The dancing?"
He shook his head. "No. The whole almost-kiss thing. And... they take it in turns - they bloody take it in turns! - to tell each other that they can't do it. Oh, my God..." He put his head in his hands.
Ginny sat down next to him. "Why would they do that to themselves?"
He laughed harshly. "Why do you think? Me, of course. They're so obsessed with looking after me, they won't even let themselves get involved with each other."
Without warning, Ginny hit him hard on the arm. "Will you stop bloody wallowing in guilt for once?"
Harry rubbed his arm and pouted. "I can't help it. It just comes naturally."
"Well, it's not going to do anyone any good. If you're serious about getting them together, you'll have to ditch the guilt and self-pity and focus on the mission. Can you do that?"
He knew she was right. "Yeah, OK."
"Good. Then we actually have a chance of success."
When she'd gone, Harry sat and thought about everything - the prophecies, Hermione and Draco, the past five years. He thought long and hard, considering everything from every angle. By the time he fell asleep, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon and the birds had been tweeting happily for the best part of an hour.
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Thoughts? I welcome all comments, even flames (although no flames is a bonus).