Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Hail Zuckerberg.
Chapter 38
A pair of students sat across from one another in the Hogwarts library. A vicious snowstorm was battering the towers and turrets of the castle, but the two teenagers were happily engrossed in their texts, the warmth of the library providing a pleasant solace from the outside world.
"Harry, I can't believe I'm saying this, but do you think we should leave the library soon?"
"Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?" He retorted, not looking up from his book.
"I'm serious, Harry. It's Christmas Eve. We've spent the entire day either at this table or at meals, and Buckbeak's hearing isn't for months." Hermione closed her book and leaned forward, trying to meet Harry's eyes. "We can come back another day. Don't you think we should take some time to enjoy the holidays?"
"Hermione, as terrifying as Buckbeak is, he's innocent." Harry insisted. "And unless we find a precedent to ensure a 'not guilty' verdict, an innocent creature is going to die. Malfoy only provoked Buckbeak because I had done well with him, and Lucius Malfoy is only pursuing the case because he wants to stick it to Hagrid because I'm friends with him. If anything, it's my fault.
"I can't just ignore the fact that this decision, this hearing, is a complete joke. It's a corrupt man's excuse to punish someone just because he wants to feel superior. It's a smarmy brat's excuse to lure his father's influence over the entire school. It's the Ministry's excuse to score a cheap victory to detract a bit of attention away from the fact that they still haven't caught Sirius Black. It's all an excuse to make a complete joke out of how a justice system should operate. It's just not right!" He concluded, slamming his fist on the table.
He sighed after a beat, unclenching his fist and slumping in his seat. Hermione was watching him with a neutral expression. "It's not right, Hermione." He mumbled dejectedly, and she nodded slowly.
"I know, Harry." She whispered, leaning over the table and putting her hand on his arm. "We'll figure it out. We always do. If you can slay a basilisk, you can save Buckbeak. Somehow, someway, you can save him. I'm sure of it."
Harry nodded, dolefully closing Magical Law and Magical Creatures Volume XIII and sliding it across the table to join the pile of other tomes they'd pored over in hopes of finding a quality defense for Buckbeak. Hermione gave him a small smile and began returning the books to the shelves, and eventually the two were exiting the library, strolling through the Hogwarts corridors back to Gryffindor Tower. The smell of cooking lingered in the air even though the Christmas Eve feast had concluded over an hour ago.
"You know, I really do admire how dedicated you are to helping Hagrid." Hermione finally said, slipping her hand into his as they rounded a corner. "I mean, I see you try really hard academically – "
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"– even if you act like you don't." She finished with a sarcastic glare. "But this is different. It's even different from how you're passionate about Quidditch. You really seem to fundamentally care about Buckbeak, about making sure he sees justice. It's commendable, really."
"I suppose so." Harry said, feeling his face heat up slightly.
"Well, you might suppose so, but I know so." Hermione flashed him a proud smile, stopping in front of Sir Cadogan and turning to face him. "Seeing you poring over all that legal work, seeing how much you cared about it, it was like watching da Vinci paint."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Hermione Granger." Harry kept his voice even but his blush had deepened, betraying him. Hermione just giggled, hopping up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.
"I guess I'll have to keep trying." She led him through the portrait hole, towards the only other person in the common room.
"Hullo." Ron greeted them half-heartedly, his attention solely on the game of Wizard's Chess he was playing against himself. "You guys find anything on Buckbeak?"
"Nothing much." Harry sighed, collapsing into a couch near Ron, and Hermione sat down next to him. "Who's winning?" He asked with a smirk.
"Hmm?" The redhead finally lifted his eyes from the chessboard. "Oh, I'm not playing anyone, I'm – ah, Harry did a funny. You hear that Hermione? Harry's gunning for my job as the funny one." He sighed dramatically, clutching his hands over his chest. "Now I'm only left with my dashing good looks."
Harry and Hermione snorted, and Ron rolled his eyes before returning to the game. "You guys might be interested to know that I sent a letter back home. To Percy."
"About what?" Hermione tilted her head quizzically. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing like that." Ron reassured, sliding a red bishop across the board and watching it pummel a pawn into submission. "It's just, Percy interns at the Ministry every other weekend."
"Really?" Harry and Hermione perked up in unison.
"Jealous?" Ron chuckled good-naturedly. "He loves it. Says he's practically the ear of the Minister. Bill went to visit him once and said he's really just a glorified coffee-fetcher." He laughed again, moving the white Queen up a few spaces. "Anyway, one of the blokes he works with is on the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures."
"That's the committee that's holding Buckbeak's hearing!" Hermione gasped, her face lighting up.
"Believe it or not, I was aware of that." Ron grinned. "Anyway, I convinced Prissy – I mean Percy, sorry, force of habit – that I wanted to stay up to date on everything regarding Buckbeak. I managed to convince him that it was solely for educational purposes, that it posed no conflict of interest, blah blah blah. Point is, if the Ministry tries to pull anything regarding Buckbeak, we'll know."
"Wow, Ron…" Harry whispered, his brain working overtime to process this sudden effort from his redheaded friend. "That's…really nice of you to do that."
"What are friends for?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "And what's the point of having siblings if you can't exploit them." He smirked, sending all three of them into a fit of cheerful laughter.
"Seriously, Ron, thank you for doing that." Hermione added once she stopped giggling. Ron gave an appreciative smile and returned to his duel with himself on the chessboard. "By the way, you should lure the Queen out with that Knight. That way the Bishop can take the King." Hermione suggested.
"Just because it worked that one time…" Ron started to chastise, but froze, examining the board. "Bloody hell…" He mumbled as he realized she was right.
"Books and cleverness are good for some things." She giggled, resting her head on Harry's shoulder. Harry gave a small laugh of his own, his mind traveling back to simpler times, when the only sadistic murderer after him lived on the back of his professor's scalp. Simpler times, when his biggest problem on the Quidditch pitch was getting jinxed, not soul-sucking wraiths hell-bent on making his life miserable.
He closed his eyes, a content smile pulling at his lips as the common room fell into a tranquil silence, only broken by the crackle of the hearth and Ron sliding a piece across the surface of the chessboard every so often.
The Next Day
"I'm just saying, it's Christmas morning, and I want to spend it with my beloved rat."
"And I'm just saying, it's Christmas morning, and I want to spend it with my beloved cat."
"Beloved? You've had that thing for just a few months. Scabbers has been in my family for twelve years. You probably just have a passing fancy for Crooked Skank. What Scabbers and I have," Ron smirked mischievously, "that's real love."
"You know his name is Crookshanks." Hermione tried to frown, but Harry and Ron were both snickering, and it was contagious.
The three of them were in the Gryffindor common room, having the entire Tower to themselves on Christmas Day. Agreeing to open their presents as a trio the night before, all three had lugged their gifts down the marble staircases and set up shop near the fireplace. Harry and Hermione occupied their usual couch, while Ron lounged on the floor lazily.
"Look," Harry said once he stopped laughing, "you guys have been really good about separating Scabbers and Crookshanks." He threw a feigned glare at Ron, which only elicited more snickers from the redhead. "But in the spirit of Christmas, it's worth a try for you both to have them." He offered.
Since the first day of school, Hermione's half-Kneazle had been at odds with Ron's aging rat. To avoid the worst, the two owners had agreed on a simple but effective compromise: alternating every other day who could bring their pet into the common room, while the other remained in their owner's dormitory upstairs. Hermione had also researched an effective anti-cat Ward that she placed on the staircase leading to the boys' dormitories, subsequently discouraging Crookshanks from sneaking into Ron's bed and clawing Scabbers to shreds when nobody was around. The results were exactly what they'd hoped for: both pets were alive, and there was no bad blood reminiscent of their first year prior to the troll incident.
"It's my day to bring Crookshanks down, Harry." Hermione pouted. Harry just shrugged.
"It's Christmas. I believe it would be cruel and inconsiderate of us to separate Ron from his loved one." He said matter-of-factly. Ron nodded in agreement.
"But…Harry…" Hermione began to flutter her eyelashes, and Harry's pulse reached life-endangering levels. He met her gaze, and for a moment he was so lost in her eyes not even the Marauder's Map could help him.
"Not fair!" Ron suddenly cried out, mercifully pulling Harry's attention away from Hermione's now blushing face. "You can't get all flirty with him just to get your way."
"I'm not getting 'all flirty' with Harry." Hermione narrowed her eyes at the redhead, unable to hide a cheeky smirk. Ron crossed his arms, and Hermione let out a sharp exhale.
"Ron, you can go get Scabbers." Harry relented, and the redhead dashed up the stairs to retrieve his rat. "And you should know better than to do that." He jabbed a finger into Hermione's arm, and she let out a small squeak.
"I was just…oh alright." She huffed, still smirking. "I know it was working." She added, waggling her eyebrows.
"That's the problem." Harry rebuked before leaning in and giving her the briefest of kisses. She giggled to herself as he pulled away, absent-mindedly brushing her lips with her fingers as Ron returned from the third-year dormitory, a familiar bulge in his shirt pocket. Crookshanks hissed in Hermione's lap as the redhead plopped down onto the rug once again, but she held him close and didn't give him any room to dart out and attack Ron and his pet. "Shall we open?" She asked once everyone was settled in.
Ron was ecstatic than Harry and Hermione had each gotten him Chudley Cannons themed gifts. Hermione had gotten him a collection of Cannons almanacs, including the score and highlights of every match from the last fifty years and a plethora of moving pictures featuring some of the best plays in the team's history.
Harry had taken a page out of Hermione's book, writing to the players themselves and asking for some autographs. For the Boy-Who-Lived, the Cannons were happy to comply. He felt a small twinge of guilt at using his fame, but at least it wasn't for his own benefit. Plus, the look of sheer amazement on his friend's face was worth it. Ron held the orange and black pennant Harry had given him like it was the Holy Grail. It was adorned with seven unique signatures, but Ron treasured one the most.
"Perseus Fitzwallace…" The redhead mumbled in awe, tracing the largest signature of the bunch. "He's the Keeper. Best in the game, if you ask me." He explained. "I have all these posters and trading cards of him. I used to listen to the Cannons games on the radio as a kid, and the announcers were always going on about how brilliant he was."
"You fancy yourself a Keeper?" Harry raised an eyebrow in genuine curiosity as he popped a Toffee into his mouth, part of the customized Honeydukes box Ron had gotten him.
"Oh, er…just for fun." Ron's ears turned pink.
"We'll need one next year." Harry shrugged. "I'm sure I could write to Fitz there, asking if he's got any tips for aspiring Keepers like yourself."
"You'd do that?"
"If you put in the work." Harry said automatically. Ron nodded eagerly, and Harry grinned at him.
"Consider it done."
They pressed on with the present-opening process. Hermione had made Harry a photo album using the pictured printed from their magical Polaroid, including photos from their first Hogsmeade trip, as well as pictures their friends had taken of them throughout the school year. Harry paused at one of him and Hermione in the middle of a History of Magic lecture.
Harry was fast asleep, his cheek pressed awkwardly against his hard wooden desk so his glasses were askew. Hermione was next to him, diligently taking notes until she darted her eyes towards him. She tentatively placed her quill on the desk, leaning down as if checking to see if her eyes were open. Slowly, she adjusted his glasses and kissed him on the tip of his nose before resuming her note-taking, now with a bashful smile.
"Lavender swiped the camera from my bag when I wasn't looking and took that picture." Hermione admitted as he watched the scene repeat a few times. "At first I was mad she photographed us without permission, but I quite like how it turned out."
"Me too." Harry flashed her a warm smile. He glanced at a few more pictures, including one of them on the Hogwarts Grounds, with Harry giving Hermione a piggy-back ride only to trip on a tree root and send them both sprawling. Harry recalled the day fondly, and how honored Hagrid had been to take a picture of the two of them. A small pang of sadness reverberated throughout his body as he doubted Hagrid had felt nearly as happy as he'd been that day since Buckbeak's hearing was announced.
He flipped the page and saw a series of photos of them in the common room, on the very couch they sat on now. In one photo, they were both dozing, Hermione with her cheek on Harry's shoulder and Harry tilting his head towards the ceiling. In another, Hermione was curled up into a ball, her eyes closed, and Harry was carefully laying a blanket over her. Unbeknownst to picture-Harry, picture-Hermione's lips curled into a blissful smile as she felt the warm blanket envelope her. In another picture, Harry had fallen asleep in the middle of writing his Ancient Runes essay, and Hermione was revising it while he snoozed, occasionally stealing glances at him.
"You two are welcome, by the way." Ron winked as he tossed a few Every Flavor Beans into his mouth. "I'm pretty sure every photo of you on this couch was taken by yours truly."
"You're a real Ansel Adams." Hermione snorted, leaning into Harry's side to get a better look at the pictures. Ron cocked his head in confusion before shrugging and returning his attention to his sweets.
"Hermione, thank you so much. This is incredible. Truly." Harry whispered, drumming his fingers on the black leather cover. Hermione just beamed at him, leaning up and planting a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Let's see what you got me." She waggled her eyebrows, and Harry hitched his breath in anticipation. She carefully removed the pristine scarlet wrapping paper from a cylindrical box about three feet in length. Tilting her head in curiosity, she opened it, removing a large roll of parchment.
"Did you write me an essay?" She asked teasingly.
"Probably would have been a lot easier." Harry chuckled. "I had to find an atlas in the library. Turns out, since almost everything magical is Unplottable, the wizarding world doesn't care much for geography."
"Harry…" She whispered, unfurling the paper to reveal a map of the city of Cannes, sketched entirely from scratch. It looked as if each blot of ink had been drawn into the most perfect, most precise location to detail every inch of the French city. Amidst the crisscrossing streets and avenues, the beaches and the gardens, lay several red hearts, drawn on as if they were markers.
"Flitwick helped me with charming this." Harry admitted sheepishly. "I actually kind of got the idea from Riddle's diary, but this involves no murderous snakes, don't worry." He clarified. Extracting his wand, he tapped the heart closest to the ocean. The moment his holly wand came into contact with the parchment, the ink upon it began to move and shift as if it had come to life. Suddenly, it was no longer a map, but a moving image of two people walking hand in hand along a beach, the sun setting along the horizon. One of the figures had long, bushy hair that bounced cheerfully as she walked. The other had round glasses and disheveled hair that resembled a rat's nest. Although the enchanted image was only colored with the blue ink and the yellow parchment, it wasn't hard to tell it was Harry and Hermione.
"Oh, Harry…" She whimpered, watching the happy pair romp along the beach. Harry wordlessly tapped his wand on the paper again, and the map returned. He found another heart, and this one transformed the map into the same two figures as before standing on a terrace, a few stars twinkling just above them.
"I took some drawing lessons from Dean." Harry confessed. "Since we both have a free period while you take Arithmancy, that's when he's been teaching me. I tried being subtle with him, not telling him what the lessons were for, but he saw right through me when I asked if he could teach me to draw a sunset." He chuckled abashedly.
"Harry, this is unbelievable." She sighed, placing one hand over her heart. Harry watched her fiddle with the sapphire necklace he'd gotten her a few months prior, and his heart fluttered at the realization that she liked it enough to keep wearing it.
"Can't believe I only gave you guys some sweets. They feel like rubbish compared to what you got each other." Ron mumbled, having moved on from candy to one of the mince pies his mother had sent from home. "Then again, I'm not…you know…either of you."
"Still afraid of the word 'dating'?" Harry snickered, and the youngest Weasley boy's ears turned pink.
"Harry, who's that one from?" Hermione finally managed to pry her eyes away from the map, tentatively rolling it back up and placing it back into its box as if it were a priceless artifact. She motioned towards a tightly wrapped parcel, longer than the map's container and almost as thin.
"You reckon the Dursleys sent me something?" Harry snorted, picking the package up. He ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto the ground in front of him.
"No way!" Ron gently laid a finger on it, admiring how it vibrated at his touch. "A real Firebolt."
"Holy shit…" Harry whispered to himself, carefully picking up the broom to inspect it. The wooden handle glittered in the light of the fireplace, and as Harry released it, it hung perfectly still in midair, waiting for him to mount it.
"Who sent it?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"There's no card." Ron rifled through the wrappings before shrugging. "You reckon it's from Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore can't play favorites like that." Harry answered, pursing his lips in thought.
"Well," Ron gave a wry smile, "then who could afford this? And be willing to give it to your sorry arse?"
"Ha-ha." Harry snorted, but he never took his eyes off the broom.
He was thrilled. Completely, utterly, thrilled. He was ecstatic that he was no the owner of the fastest racing broom in the world, feeling the elation flood through his body at the prospect of zooming around the Quidditch pitch. His excitement to brandish his Firebolt under Malfoy's nose, just as the Slytherin had done a year prior with his Nimbus Two Thousand and One was palpable. He wanted to get on this broom as soon as possible and start practicing for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw.
But Hermione grabbed his hand and began squeezing it hard enough to turn her knuckles white. He turned from the broom and saw nothing but fear in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" He asked, wincing as her vice grip tightened even more.
"Harry, don't you think this is a bit…odd?"
"What?" Harry blinked, watching her worriedly dart her eyes between the broom and him. She didn't answer for a moment, biting her lip and growing increasingly paler. Harry was about to ask her what was wrong when Ron cut in, laughing to himself.
"She's just upset you're going to be back on the Quidditch pitch." He offered in a playful voice. "Honestly, you should hear her in the stands. Whenever she's not cheering like mad she's fretting about you nonstop, ranting about how you're going to die up there – "
"That is not what the problem is, Ronald!" Hermione interrupted, her face flushing with embarrassment but her eyes still filled with terror.
"Oh…" Ron's jolly demeanor faltered when he caught sight of Hermione's expression. "What is it, then?"
"Don't you think that it's worrying that someone sent Harry a racing broom? Anonymously?" She squeezed Harry's hand even tighter, and he audibly groaned in pain.
"Worrying? Hermione, it's perfect." He gently pried her fingers off of his aching hand and gave her a reassuring smile. "I lost my Nimbus in the storm, right? I've been flying on that rubbish Shooting Star for weeks, and now I have a real broom to play Ravenclaw – "
"Harry." Hermione's voice was shaking. "What if it came from Sirius Black?"
Harry's stomach plummeted. He looked at the broom hovering in front of him, silently beckoning him to hop on and rocket around the Quidditch pitch. The temptation was almost insurmountable – he could already feel the wind whipping through his hair as he flew at breakneck speeds. For a split-second, he was certain there was nothing he wanted more than to be zipping after the Snitch aboard the broom he'd just received.
But his mind jumped to a clear day in November, two years earlier. When his broomstick lurched and jerked uncontrollably as he flew fifty feet above the ground. He'd flown on a cursed broom before, and it was not something he planned on repeating.
"I…I suppose it's possible." Harry said quietly, furrowing his brows together in thought. The three of them sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Ron looked like he wanted to say something, opening his mouth every thirty seconds, but the words died in his throat every time. The only sounds came from the fireplace and the occasional purr from Crookshanks.
"What if it's bewitched?" Harry whispered, staring at the broom nervously. It still levitated in front of him, urging him to mount. He shook his head, glancing at his friends, who both looked equally deep in thought.
"Do you really think Sirius Black could wander into Quality Quidditch Supplies and just buy the most expensive broom on the planet?" Ron broke the silence.
"Harry's had his fair share of cursed objects on the Quidditch pitch. It's a possibility."
"I agree, it's a possibility." Ron conceded, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm just saying. Maybe one of those Cannons players you wrote to sent it."
Harry nodded in acknowledgement, but a knot of nervousness was forming in his stomach and he couldn't will it away. "Black's tried breaking into Gryffindor Tower to kill me, and it didn't work. This could be another method to…you know."
"To do you in?" Ron raised an eyebrow, and Harry shrugged. "I just want you to know, it would be nearly impossible for Sirius Black to waltz into a shop and buy anything, much less a Firebolt."
"But it's nearly impossible to escape Azkaban." Hermione offered. "And look where we are now." Ron couldn't offer an answer to that except a noncommittal shrug.
Harry sighed dejectedly, and Hermione laced her fingers with his in a much lighter grip than before. "Harry, what do you think?"
"I don't know." He whispered, leaning his cheek against the top of Hermione's head. She hummed in understanding, drawing patterns on the back of his hand with her thumb as he pondered in silence. "Is there any way to trace it?"
"It was there when we woke up. Probably just got magically sent to the dormitory like the rest of your mail this morning." Ron sighed. "I doubt we can find out where it came from."
"Can we find out if it's been tampered with?" Harry asked, pursing his lips. "There has to be some way to reveal curses and stuff."
"I suppose." Hermione nodded pensively. "But that sounds like something rather advanced."
"Even for you?" Harry nudged her with his elbow, and she blushed.
"Even for me." She giggled, nestling into his side. "Maybe we can ask McGonagall."
"As long as she gets it back to me by February. I'm not playing a match on that Shooting Star." Harry sighed, lifting his arm and wrapping it around Hermione's shoulders.
"Wait, seriously?" Ron seemed more perplexed than anything. "You just got the fastest broom in existence and you want to give it up?"
"Well, Ron," Harry sighed, "there's a chance it was sent to me by a psychotic mass-murderer. Feel free to give it a test run if you want to prove that theory wrong."
"I…well…" The redhead stammered incoherently, prompting Harry and Hermione to snicker at him. "Oh, alright." He shrugged, lying flat on his back and chowing down on another mince pie. "When are you going to give it to McGonagall anyway?"
"In a bit." Harry answered, pulling Hermione even closer. "I think I want to enjoy this moment for a little while."
"Bloody hell, get a room." Ron lifted his head and caught sight of his snuggling friends. "Better yet, I'll give you a room. I'll meet you two in the Great Hall?" He cringed as he got to his feet, not waiting for an answer and hurrying out of the common room. Harry and Hermione heard the portrait hole slam shut and giggled.
"One day he'll grow up." Harry sighed, meeting Hermione's eyes.
"I wouldn't hold your breath." She shrugged.
"I couldn't even if I tried." Harry grinned. "You take my breath away every time I look at you."
Hermione squeaked, her face matching the scarlet paint on the walls. "Shut up." She mumbled sheepishly, burrowing her face in his shoulder. "Where did you even learn to say things like that?" Her voice was muffled against the fabric of his jumper from Mrs. Weasley.
"I'm full of surprises." Harry smirked, too embarrassed to admit he'd borrowed the line from a song in Top Gun. "Merry Christmas, Hermione."
"Merry Christmas, Harry." She beamed at him, looking as if she'd never been happier. She looked straight above them, towards the ceiling, and her eyes widened. "Oh, Harry…"
He glanced upwards and was equally surprised at the sight of several forking green branches hanging precariously from the ceiling. A bright red ribbon wrapped the florets together in a bunch, keeping them steady directly above the two teenagers. "Did you do this?" She gasped.
"No, this wasn't me." Harry flushed, giving Hermione a shaky smile. She looked away from the mistletoe and returned the smile.
"I guess it's a Christmas miracle." She whispered.
"Now you're just being cliché."
"Shut up and kiss me."
Harry had taken his fair share of orders, from the Dursleys, from professors, even from Hermione when it came to study schedules and what-not. But never before had he been so happy to do what someone told him to do.
A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! Well, not really. It's June, actually. In fact, today would have been my first day back in school after spending prom weekend in an Airbnb, except a little thing called COVID happened. Such is life. Anyway, hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter. The much healthier relationship between Ron and Hermione has led to a much more hassle-free environment regarding Scabbers and Crookshanks. Also, Hermione being so much closer to Harry enables her to tell him about Sirius possibly sending the Firebolt rather than have that horrible sequence in canon. Blegh. As I was rereading PoA to make sure this was accurate and stuff I got to that part and wanted to walk into the ocean.
But enough about JKR making me angry. Let's talk about you guys! You amazing people who leave reviews, who favorite, who follow this story, you guys are all amazing. Special shout-outs to frequent offenders like Nate Cook, GoldenS07, and Jessi Granger, you guys are super consistent with leaving kind reviews and I want you to know I really do appreciate it! You, along with every other reviewer/follower/favorite-r, make my day. Thank you all, and stay safe!