AN: A bit of a cheesy chapter ahead.
18th September 20:40
The sun was dipping close to the horizon but its warmth still radiated from the terracotta tiles that were baked in the sun all day. It was a comfortable temperature now at least. A soft breeze rolled in, ruffling Harry's clothes and hair as he lay upon one of the loungers. Since Ron and Remus had left for the meeting, Harry's mind was in a whirlwind. He wasn't alone in the department. He had spied Tonks pacing nonstop in the kitchen when the two had left, clearly agitated and nervous about the danger her husband had returned to.
Harry swung between fear for them, frustration that he had been left behind, guilt that he was responsible for the levels of security and secrecy, and then anxiety as he knew that the main topic of the meeting would be himself. As the turbulence of his thoughts began to make him feel nauseous and panicked, he forced himself to practice the mediation techniques Remus taught him in the morning. He might not be able to help the fight against Voldemort in the physical sense, but he could at least try to make a stand in the mental sense.
He lay, focusing on his breathing, as he was told. He relaxed every part of himself. As he felt himself slowly drifting, he felt a sharp biting pain in his wrists and a wash of red light flashed in his mind. He was ripped out of the relaxation. He opened his eyes, seeking the view to remind himself that he wasn't in that cell and rubbed at his wrists to confirm that there were no shackles or ropes.
He dropped his head back against the cushion of the sun-lounger. This wasn't working. Every time he managed to empty his mind of the things worrying him and occupying his headspace, the void they left was immediately filled with bad memories. His mind just would not stay empty.
He glanced across at Hermione. She sat a little away from him to give him privacy, as she told him. Her nose was in a book, unsurprisingly. He looked at the title of the book. Tales of Beedle the Bard. Recognition fired through him. It was the book Dumbledore left her in his will.
He regarded her for a moment, seeing how her legs were crossed, how her ankles were dainty, how her hair caught the sun in a way that made some strands look like gold. He focused on her face and made a decision.
"Hermione?" Harry called out to her. Immediately, she put the book down and looked over at him, her eyes wide.
"What is it?"
"Uh, well…" His lips twitched a few times. "I… I'm struggling with this. Turns out I'm still hopeless at occlumency and… I wondered…" He sighed. "You have a knack at knowing where I'm going wrong and I thought… maybe if I tell you what I'm doing, you'll be able to see where I'm failing."
He saw her expression brighten at once.
"Of course, I'll help, Harry. You need only ask." She slid off the lounger and, as she did, Harry's gaze snagged on her slender legs, noticing the way the light caught the bones of her shins and the curve of her calves. Her skin was so smooth…
Bloody hell. Why am I being so creepy about her damn legs!?
His face was pink by the time she came over to join him at the sun-lounger that Remus had used when they had practised meditating in the morning. Harry smiled at her and she settled down, turning on her side and propping her head upon her hand, considering him. The sun caught her face at just the right angle, the golden highlights in her irises glowing in the warm light.
His mouth hung open.
"Is there… something on my face?" She asked, her cheeks going a bit pink.
"Huh? Oh no. Just the sun. I mean…" Harry spluttered, breaking from his daze. His face burned. Why am I so distracted? Hermione's always been pretty.
"Well… then," Hermione was blushing as well. It made her eyes gleam even more. "I read a little about Occlumency in fifth year while you were having your lessons. Not so I could take over or intrude. It just fascinated me at the time that there was a whole branch of magic that I hadn't heard about before."
She steamrolled right into it, doing her best to cover up the awkwardness that Harry had managed to cause between them. He mentally berated himself at first, then smiled to himself. It was so like her to go out her way to remedy her ignorance in a topic, even though she had no need of the knowledge.
"You never said," he remarked.
"I thought you… would probably think I was butting in." She said quietly. Harry recoiled a little and sighed. Considering that year and the way he was, he probably would have.
"Oh, right. So… what did you learn?"
"Not a lot. It was really frustrating, actually. A lot of what I found just alluded to how practical application surpassed any theory as everyone's mind works in different ways. One occlumens's method may not work for another. I wonder if that was what Snape was attempting with you. Pushing you to find your own method." Harry frowned. "I'm not defending his way of teaching. Attacking your mind over and over like that… I'm just saying that he always had an unconventional teaching style."
Harry snorted. "Insulting and bullying students is 'unconventional'?" She gave him a very Hermione-esque look that made him shut up.
"I take it he at least gave some instruction?"
"Clear your mind. Between the 'you call that trying, Potter?', 'your defences are undisciplined and worthless ' and 'arrogant and lazy like your father', that was it." He saw her lips purse. "Really, Hermione. I'm not exaggerating. I wasn't failing at it on purpose. He never told me how to actually clear my mind."
She frowned as she paid attention to what he was saying. "'Clearing your mind' sounds like meditating," she said softly, "is that what you've been practising? Meditation?"
"Yeah," Harry rubbed his forehead, sighing, "and I'm worthless at it. I can get relaxed and slow my breathing and heart rate down, but it's my head that's the problem." He looked across at her. "Remus said that it's all about the breathing and, by concentrating on just one thing, you bring all your thoughts inwards to a single point. And that makes sense. It's what I did when I blocked my mind before. I focused on a single thing."
"So it's not about clearing your mind, it's about focusing it."
Harry looked at her and then his eyes went wide. "Hermione, you're brilliant, you know that, right?"
She blinked at him, a little taken back by his sudden compliment. He felt his smile grow. "I am?"
"Yes! I knew you'd put me right. Of course, I can't clear my mind. Having no thoughts at all is impossible. Every time I get close, a thought pops up and it's always a… well… me thinking about being in the Row," he mumbled the last bit and saw Hermione's flinch. "I have to focus on something I'm doing. If it's something I'm doing, then it'll focus me on me and not him. That's why what I did to block my mind worked. I focused on me and nothing else."
Hermione gaped at him for a moment and then she frowned.
"I can see how this works to protect you against a direct legilimens, but that's not the danger you're facing. Your minds are connected all the time. Even when you're asleep. You need to have the block up constantly."
Harry's enthusiasm deflated immediately and he slumped back. Hermione's eyes unfocused for a moment as her brain engaged and she let out a breath.
"Perhaps we are thinking about this wrong. Maybe it isn't just about mental discipline, but magical discipline. The bridge between you is magical, so the block will have to be magical too."
"That makes sense but the question still is how do I do it?"
"I… don't know," Hermione said softly, "but why don't you start with practising blocking your mind first? Maybe something will come to you. You worked out how to do that much on your own." She smiled at him, giving him that look that she wore whenever he did something that surprised her. He looked away.
"I'll give it a try." He said, settling back against the padded lounger. Hermione sat up, moving to go. "No. You don't have to go. I know you won't disturb me."
Hermione's brows lifted up in surprise, her mouth parting a little. Then she smiled, her eyes brightening.
"Okay, but I'll go and get my book." She said, sliding off. Harry let out a breath, watching her grab the book from the other seat that she had been occupying across the terrace. She climbed back on the lounger next to him, bringing her legs up to rest the book on her thighs. Harry glanced over, his gaze travelling down her bare thigh. When he realised what he was doing, he snapped his head back, cheeks burning.
Merlin, Harry. You have more important things to think about than your bloody hormones.
He settled his head back, trying to not think about the golden-brown curl that was resting on Hermione's shoulder and slowly sliding down her skin. He let out a breath, feeling very warm, not just in his face either.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Pulling his focus back took a lot. He concentrated on his breathing first, counting as he drew long, slow breaths, holding them and exhaling softly. He relaxed up from his toes, letting the tension ebb away, all the while focusing on the act of breathing, on the air in his lungs, the cool breath tickling his lip as he breathed out.
Focus on a single point.
Just like with every other attempt at meditating, his mind wandered back to the cell, to those intense black eyes. His fingers twitched, feeling the ghost of the shackles at his wrists. His shoulders tensed, losing grasp of his relaxed state.
Don't think of that. Just breathe. Think of nothing else but me. My body… my fingers and toes, and the air in my lungs.
His shoulders relaxed again. Feel the warmth of the sun, the breeze… feel…
His eyes were rolling back as he sunk into a deep state. Warm… he was so warm… his fingers were beginning to tingle and he grew aware of himself. He could feel his blood surging through him with every steady pump of his heart. The rush of it in his ears, the light pulsing in his fingertips. But the warmth wasn't from his blood, or from his body, the warmth was within him. It was him. He was the warmth. He was the energy. He was energy… no, not energy. Magic.
Sense dialled away, retreating, as he focused on the warmth and felt weightless as he went deep into his mind. Far into the depths… drifting and surging through waves of power, his body suffused with it, at one with the magic…
"Harry! What are you doing!"
His eyes flew open. He was staring up at the sky, his arms hanging down from under him. He looked over to Hermione in alarm and saw that she was below him.
He was suspended in midair. The sun-lounger that he had been lying on was five feet below him.
"AH!" He shouted in alarm as gravity returned instantly and he slammed back down into the sun-lounger.
"Oh my God. Harry, are you alright?" Hermione scrambled from her lounger, rushing over to him. Harry rubbed the back of his head where he had hit it on impact, the rest of him smarting from the fall.
"Ow," he replied.
"Harry… why were you flying?"
Harry peered at her, seeing her eyes wide with disbelief and concern. He looked down at himself, then looked up.
"I… have absolutely no idea." He said and met her stare. They looked at each other and burst out into nervous laughter.
"Is everything alright? I heard shouting." Tonks emerged from the kitchen, her blonde curls bouncing as she rushed over, stopping when she saw them both laughing.
"Other than Harry somehow managing to master flight instead of occlumency, everything's great," Hermione said a little weakly. Harry laughed, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.
"Come again," Tonks stared at her. Harry looked back at her, lowering his arm as it hit him what had just happened. He gaped, shocked.
"I levitated myself." He said, stunned, "why was I levitating myself?"
Tonks blinked, staring at the two of them, each in turn. "You levitated? Without… a wand?"
Harry nodded, still staring, stunned. She then gave a laugh. "Bloody hell, Harry, what is it with you and the impossible things that happen to you?"
"I didn't do it on purpose," he mumbled and concealed a wince as his shoulders throbbed from where he had struck the lounger. It was a good job that it was padded.
"You must have been doing something to float off the bed like that," Hermione told him. He looked over at her, seeing her eyes wide. "One moment you looked like you had fallen asleep and I was debating waking you up, then you were drifting upwards like a feather. Once you came out of whatever trance you put yourself under, you stopped…"
"Yeah, and then I fell and hit my head," he grumbled. Then he thought back to what he had been doing before he dropped like a stone. "It was weird. I was focusing on just me… like we said. On what I'm doing and not what I'm thinking. And then… it was like…" He saw Hermione staring at him intently. He had a feeling that she was analysing every word he was saying, trying to understand and rationalise the impossible. "Like I could feel my magic inside me and I was a part of it. It felt like… I was formless, weightless, so I guess that must have been when I took off like a balloon."
Hermione's eyes were round. "Do you think you could do it again?"
"Uh maybe not right now. I don't fancy falling from a height again."
"Right. Remus is going to kill me if he learns that you went airborne on my watch," Tonks said, rushing over to him and looking him over as if expecting to see some evidence of what had happened. "You don't feel faint or anything."
"No," Harry shrugged, "a bit sore but no different than usual."
"You're sore? In pain?" Hermione asked at once. Harry cringed and went to reassure her.
"It's not as bad as it has been. Just mostly my shoulders now and the odd spasm," he said, "and my hand, of course, but really… I'm fine." Hermione's eyes were crinkling, her concern palpable.
"Even so, you should take it easy." Tonks told him, then she looked across at the sea, giving a sigh at the view. "How about you both just relax and enjoy the evening for once? Looking at the pair of you with that backdrop, you can almost believe that you're on holiday. You're even looking a bit brown, Harry."
He blushed, rubbing at his arms. Tonks grinned at them mischievously.
"Actually, I think I have just the thing to finish this picture off. Don't go anywhere." She rushed off back into the villa.
"What is she doing?" Hermione asked, looking a bit alarmed. Harry shook his head.
"No idea, but that smile means nothing good."
"If I hear a crash, I'll go running," she said, causing Harry to look over at her.
"Hermione, was that a joke?" He asked her, seriously. She smacked him on the arm. "Ow!"
"I do have a sense of humour, you know."
"I just told you I'm sore and you hit me!"
"You deserve it for being a prat." She said, smiling. Harry lay back against the lounger, checking his arms against the pale cloth of the padding underneath.
"Do you think I have a tan?"
He looked up, catching her staring at him but she wasn't checking his arm to see if he had caught the sun. She was looking at his eyes. As his gaze met hers, her cheeks flushed.
Was she staring at me?
"Do I have something on my face?" Harry asked, repeating what she had said earlier when she caught him staring. She gave a little laugh.
"Other than your glasses, no."
He found himself looking into her eyes, seeing the lines of golden brown in her irises. She blinked, her eyelashes flashing as they reflected the sun. He felt his mouth curl up in the corner as he realised that she was looking at him in the same way.
He heard a clink of glass coming from behind. He sat up and looked over, breaking eye contact. Hermione gave a soft sigh beside him. He shelved that noise away for later, looking to see Tonks approaching with glasses and a bottle.
"Ta-da!" She announced, setting two wine glasses down on the table between their two loungers. "Shall I pour, monsieur et mademoiselle?"
Harry saw that she had brought out a bottle of white wine.
"Er…"
"It's not 'er', Harry, it's 'oui'," Tonks admonished him, rolling her eyes, as she poured out the wine. She spilled a little. "Oops."
"Um, Tonks, why are you giving us wine?" Hermione asked her, looking a little embarrassed and alarmed.
"Because you're in France, watching the sunset, enjoying each others' company… and now you're going to enjoy a glass of…" She checked the bottle, "pinot grigio."
Hermione's smile twitched through her shock.
"You just told me to take it easy and now you're giving me alcohol?" Harry frowned at her, "I'm getting mixed messages here."
"Well a glass of wine is taking it easy. You're relaxing," Tonks rolled her eyes as if he was being dense. "Here. Enjoy the time together. Take it from someone who knows. Moments like this…" She circled her finger around them both. "You need to treasure them. Treasure… each other." She tipped them a wink. "Don't go flying off again, Harry."
Both Harry and Hermione watched her head back inside, mouths open. Harry looked down at the glasses and felt his face beginning to warm as he picked up what Tonks had said. Hermione was smiling and she picked up the glass. Harry looked across at her, raising an eyebrow.
"What?" She lowered the glass.
"Nothing… I just thought you'd… well," he waved at the wine, "turn it down."
She rolled her eyes at him. "It's wine, Harry. Besides, tomorrow I'm eighteen and will be legally able to drink. If anyone should be not drinking, it's you."
"Yeah, that'll be the crime that they get me for next. Underaged drinking. Forget treason."
Hermione had been about to drink her wine and frowned across at him.
"Harry, you shouldn't joke about that."
"Probably not," he said soberly, then took his glass. Hermione sipped and gave a soft, contented huff through her nose. She smiled to herself, leaning back against the sun-lounger. Harry was enrapt at the way her lips touched the rim of the glass. He pulled his gaze away and settled back himself, looking at the glass in his hand.
Stop thinking like that. She's not a piece of meat to drool over. Control yourself, sicko.
He took a sip of the wine to distract himself. He wasn't expecting the sharp onslaught of tastes to greet his tongue and he nearly choked. He swallowed and saw Hermione smirking at him.
"Wine's not for everyone," she said sagely.
"Hey, I didn't turn my nose up," Harry scowled, "it's just… not what I expected." To prove his point, he took another sip and tasted it. He gave a small smile. It wasn't half bad. He leaned over to put the glass back down on the table and then saw that Tonks had left the bottle with them. He saw Hermione look over and see the bottle too. They met gazes. Harry looked away before his hormones took over again. He rolled back over and caught sight of the book at Hermione's side.
"Er… so… that book Dumbledore left you in his will," he cleared his throat and pointed at it, "didn't Ron say it was a book of stories?"
Harry's sudden engagement startled Hermione. She lowered her glass and peered down at it.
"Yes. It's a bit like the magical equivalent of Aesop's Fables from what I can tell."
"So the stories have morals?"
Hermione looked at him in surprise.
"What?" He asked.
"I just… sometimes forget that you had a muggle education." She met his eyes. He gave a shrug. Hermione picked up the book.
"I've read it a few times now," she said haltingly. "I know I should be looking over other things but… Dumbledore left me this. I'm assuming that he wishes me to learn from the tales, as if they have magical morals, but… I'm not sure what they are."
He looked curiously at the book and then looked up at her. "Hmm… maybe you should ask Ron?" Hermione's eyes met his and narrowed. "He had a different childhood to us. A magical one. When we were taught about the Tortoise and the Hare as children, we were also taught the moral of how being 'slow and steady wins the race'. It was read to us and taught, right? As a lesson. Well, maybe Ron was read and taught the morals from those as well. As a lesson."
Hermione regarded him, tilting her head to one side. "Harry, you are quite brilliant at times."
He gave a laugh. "At times huh?"
"When you aren't doing something dangerous, yes," she smiled, drinking some more wine. Her smile faded a little. "That does make me wonder, though, how much of a disadvantage it was, having to learn a whole new world with different customs, cultures, stories, currency, clothes… and that's not even covering the magic side of things."
"Hmm… I remember how nervous I was about not knowing anything," Harry said, smiling wistfully as he thought back to that haze of his eleventh birthday. "It felt like a dream. All of it. Finding out that I was a wizard. Going to Diagon Alley for the first time…"
"You were supposed to know all that though," Hermione pointed out, looking across at him.
"Was I? Dumbledore wanted me growing up away from it all, though I don't think he planned for me to be as ignorant as I was." He noticed Hermione frowning. "I was probably supposed to know that all the weird things I was doing was magic and not me going around the twist."
He picked up his glass and looked at the lightly coloured liquid. Through it, he could see all the intense colours of the sky. He lowered the glass, his awed breath expelling out of him in a long exhale. He absorbed what he was seeing, trying to fix it all in his memory. It was happy and glorious enough to warrant a patronus. It was beautiful and his mind couldn't really process what he was seeing. The delicate hues and the bold ones all coming together in perfect synergy, looking more magical than magic itself was. How is that possible?
"How do we live a life where this feels like a dream and when doing the impossible feels like reality?" He found himself saying. "How can simple things feel like a fantasy and magic feel normal?"
Hermione gave a thoughtful hum at his words, putting her lips to the glass and drank. Harry glanced across at her, heat flashing over his face as he watched. He followed suit, drinking. As she lowered her glass, she looked over at Harry, her face falling a little.
"It's how I used to feel when going home for the holidays," her voice soft and sad, "it was always difficult to return to life without magic and it was so jarring, being at home with my family felt like a dream. Like I have a dual life. Had." She corrected, her eyes clouding for a moment. Pain rippled through Harry at the look on her face. "Did you feel the same way?"
"At first, yeah," Harry admitted, "after our first year, I thought that I made it all up in my head. But I think… for me it was different. Going back to the Dursleys didn't feel like a dream for me."
"Then what?" Hermione asked, looking at him intently.
"A nightmare," he said and chased it down with finishing his glass of wine and putting it down on the table.
"Trust me to bring the mood down," he said glumly, "if I say anything that depressing again, you have my permission to smack me around the head."
Hermione grabbed the bottle of wine and started to fill his glass.
"Then I hope for your head's sake that you're a happy drunk because I'm not drinking all this alone."
After the sun had set, a chill soon entered the air. Harry made a valiant attempt at chivalry with his offer to go inside and get some blankets before Hermione forced him to sit down with a firm reminder that he was meant to 'take it easy'. She flicked a warming charm over him and then summoned blankets from inside. He mumbled a thanks, throwing the blanket over his legs. Hermione hid her smile behind her hand. Harry was loosening up, appearing a lot more relaxed than she had seen him in… months. Not since before Dumbledore's death. She had no idea how much of it was a show to make her feel more at ease, but there was a general air of peace about him. It was as if she was seeing Harry without the burden on his shoulders. Away from the war. In exile.
She noticed earlier when Tonks brought up Harry's tan that he actually had picked up some colour. His arms had a healthy glow to them. She looked to see if his face was similarly sunkissed and caught the intensity of the green of his eyes, suddenly captivated by the depths of the colour. Framed by his long, thick lashes as well, they were even more arresting.
They settled back into a comfortable silence. Hermione smiled to herself. Spending time with Harry was much different than spending time with Ron. Silences were profound. He made them feel safe. She looked across at him and he did the same. Their eyes met, green meeting gold.
He smiled, cheek dimpling.
"Knut for your thoughts?" He asked her.
She blushed. He gave a chuckle.
"That bad, huh?" He raised a dark eyebrow, amused.
"I was just thinking that this is really nice," she said, moving her hand to play with the bottom of her glass. He gave a content hum in response.
"Do you know what this reminds me of?" He pointed at himself and then her. "Just us together?"
"What?"
"The day after my name came out of the Goblet of Fire and you were the only person who believed I didn't put my name in." He smiled at her, his dimple deepening. "You brought me toast."
"Oh?" Hermione was a little surprised.
"Yeah… this is a bit nicer than freezing our butts off by the lake, but it's… sort of the same as how I remember that. The same… feeling. I was really grateful, you know, even if I was pants at showing it." His face was a bit pink now that he was three glasses in. "I'm really grateful that you're here right now. That you're spending time with me."
He fiddled with the bottom of his wine glass like she was doing, then he picked his up, and held it up.
"We don't have toast but I can make a toast. To Hermione Granger, the best friend that anyone can ask for."
She turned onto her side, looking over at Harry in the twilight, the soft glow of the ghost of the sun. He had his left knee propped up, his other leg under the blanket. His right arm was resting on top of the blanket, the healing wounds around his wrist appearing almost like a misshapen bangle. The bandage around his hand concealed most of the injury from view, but his knuckles were still swollen, purplish and shiny.
His eyes held her, the deepness of the green still bright even in the low light, all the more vivid against the pinkish colour of the whites of his eyes. Not as red as they had been, but still bloodshot. The bruise around his eye was now more green and yellow than black.
His left hand held the raised glass and his smile turned lazy, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"I can't toast myself," she pointed out.
"Says who? Raise your glass already." She couldn't stop the giggle erupting from her lips.
"Cheers!" He said and then knocked back some wine.
"We should say 'sante' as we're in France."
"Oh you're right. We shouldn't come across as ignorant foreigners. Sante!" He said, stressing it and putting on an accent. Hermione eyed him.
"Seeing that you've toasted me, it's only fair that I give one back to you." She shifted around, raising her glass, putting on as much a serious face as she could. "To Harry Potter, my best friend and favourite drinking partner."
He raised his glass at her. "I like that toast." He drank and rested his glass on his knee. He brought his right hand up to his face and pulled his glasses off. "No point in these when it's too dark to see anyway." He put them down on the table. Without his glasses, Harry looked a lot different. Harsher, in a way. His cheekbones were a lot more pronounced and his brows more severe.
He peered up at her. "You're a bit blurry though."
"Probably for the best," she said. He scowled.
"Don't say that," he admonished her.
"Why not? I'm nothing special. Not like Ginny or Cho." She didn't know what she was saying and her face flamed as she said those two names in particular. Harry's ex-girlfriends.
"You're you. You don't have to be like anyone else," he waved his bandaged hand, apparently not caring that she compared herself to those two in particular. "You're special… and…" He chewed his lip suddenly, "you're very pretty."
His face looked flushed in the dwindling light.
"You think so?" Hermione was stunned.
"I might be half-blind but I have eyes."
"Oh." Hermione felt very hot.
"Erm… sorry if that came out really creepy," Harry said, eyes dipping downwards, "and I know, you and Ron… um."
"Me and Ron?" She looked over at him, frowning. He glanced over, his lashes as dark as ever in the twilight.
"Yeah. You… well… are together. Or will be. Soon." He drank his wine, covering up the awkwardness. Hermione felt like someone had hit her over the head. Ron…
It had been so long since she had thought of Ron in that way, she had almost forgotten that she did think of him in that way. Or at least, she used to. After everything that had happened, all the pain and heartache she had gone through the last year was so inconsequential. How could any of that matter in the face of real danger? And while Harry, their best friend, had been a prisoner of his enemies and tortured by them? And now that Harry was safe and healing, the feelings that she had pushed aside for the sake of the mission had dissolved altogether. Yes, she cared deeply for Ron and knew that without him, she would have crumbled and broken into pieces, but it was nothing more than what she felt towards Harry.
"I… don't know if that will happen," she said softly, bringing her glass to her lips. "I don't feel that way about him."
And there it was. Harry turned to look at her. For a while, he didn't speak, just considered her for a moment. She didn't want to think what he thought about her after saying something like that. He looked out to the sky to where the first stars were beginning to appear.
"Feelings change," he said quietly, "people change. We've done a lot of growing up in a short amount of time. War does that." He considered her again, sighing out of his nose. "I understand, Hermione, but I don't think Ron does. He thinks you're pissed off with him."
"What?"
"Yeah. He asked me earlier. You should talk to him," he gave a heavy sigh, "I'm sure he'll understand if you explain that this just isn't the right time for a relationship."
"It's… not that," Hermione said quietly, lowering her glass. "I agree that this isn't the best time to be wrapped up in teenage drama, but… I really don't feel that way about him. I'm not sacrificing my heart for the cause. I just… don't feel that way. I'm not sure why."
Harry tilted his head to one side. "Like I said. Feelings change and people change." He drank some more wine. Hermione rolled his words over in her mind, looking at him intently. People do change indeed. He's changed. A lot. He has come a long way from losing his temper every five seconds.
He stared out at the sky again, his expression thoughtful. Then he slowly looked back over to her, putting his glass down on the table.
"Can I be totally honest with you?" He asked in a low voice. "And if you say yes, that means you don't get to smack me when you don't like what I have to say."
She gazed at him, his face now almost completely lost in the shadow as the only light sources now came from the lights inside the house behind him. If he has to ask, then he's worried about how I'm going to react. What could he say that would make him that nervous?
"Yes, of course."
He nodded, reaching up to play with his lip for a moment, clearly toying with what he wanted to say.
"I'm actually… relieved. I was worried for you."
What?
"Worried for me? Why?"
"Please don't hit me for this." He said, looking at her sincerely.
"Just spit it out, Harry!"
"Fine…" he groaned and closed his eyes, "I was worried that you'd… be less like you to make him happy." He peered across at her. Hermione looked at him in surprise.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You need someone who takes you as you are, all your brilliance and brightness, and doesn't need you to dim your spark so you don't outshine them."
Her breath hitched. Her hand tightened on her glass. Emotions rolled through her, tumbling her thoughts around as she felt tears forming.
Harry continued, appearing oblivious to how much his words had affected her.
"I'm not trying to be unfair to Ron. He has confidence issues as we all well know and he needs someone to… I guess prop him up and make him feel good about himself. Make him feel like he's less in the shadows… less in our shadows I suppose. I was worried that, to make him feel good about himself, you would try to change and… take a step back." He drank from his glass and looked over.
Hermione quickly turned her face to hide her tears. Her chest was aching from the emotions that he had triggered.
Harry sighed at her silence. "I know I've upset you…"
"No… no you haven't. The opposite, actually," she said quickly, her voice hushed with unfallen tears. "I'm moved and… surprised that you see all that." She had no idea where the words came from but there they were.
"Honestly, me too, but there it is." He said and gave a shrug. "Maybe I'm more complex than you thought."
"Maybe you are," she smiled, looking at him, "maybe there are things I don't know about you."
She saw a flash as his teeth caught the light as he grinned.
"Such as?"
"Your favourite colour?"
"Oh okay." He leaned back, dropping his knee down and pulled his blanket up. "Now that we've talked about your relationship problems, let's get to my deep, dark secret of-," he gave a mock gasp of horror, "-my favourite colour."
Hermione smiled, her heart surging with emotion, her affection for Harry growing all the more fonder. She reached for her glass of wine and found it empty. She grabbed the bottle and went to pour. Harry scowled at it, suspicious.
"Hang on… there's still wine left?"
"I refilled it."
"You… you refilled it?" Harry choked back a laugh.
"I refilled it almost an hour ago."
"Are you trying to get me drunk?"
Hermione smiled at the laughter in his voice and took up her wand, frowning a little at how dark it had already gotten. She summoned up some candles. They whisked towards them from the house, caught up in her levitation charm. With a wave, they lit, bathing them both in a warm, flicking light. Harry watched her silently, his smile wistful.
"Candles? Nice touch. One would almost say… magical?" She rolled her eyes at the cheesiness of his joke.
"Shhh… you didn't answer. What is your favourite colour?" She flicked his arm, making him rub it. He grinned at her playfulness and then he looked thoughtful as he went to think about his answer. He turned, looking right into her eyes. His expression changed subtly, the look in his eyes shifting as gazed deeply, thoughtfully, intensely. Hermione had not seen him wear a look like that. At least, not when looking at her. Her fingers twitched on her glass.
"Gold." He said eventually. His answer surprised her. She expected red.
"Gold?" She repeated. "Not Gryffindor red?"
His face twisted. "No… definitely not red. I don't think of Gryffindor when I see red… I see his eyes." Hermione felt a lurch in her gut when he said it. "Gold. Like the sun."
"Or the snitch?"
"Oh, that was fast. No. Not like the snitch. A warmer gold than that, darker… anyway now what about your favourite colour."
Hermione smiled. "You might be surprised by mine. It's green, but not like Slytherin green. Lighter than that… grass green. The colour of life."
Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I should have known you would have an answer immediately."
She saw that he was still not wearing his glasses. They were on the table between them. She smiled and picked them up, studying the way the lenses reflected the candlelight.
"How old were you when you got these?" She asked him. Harry's head jerked up, surprised, and then he rolled his eyes.
"What is this, an interview?"
"I don't like not knowing things."
"Ugh… fine, but if you ask me something, I get to ask you something back."
"Deal."
"Oh… wait…"
"Don't worry. I'm not Rita Skeeter. I won't ask what colour your pants are." She looked away, horrified at what she had just said. Harry burst out laughing.
"Hermione… where did that come from?"
"The bottle I think," she said weakly. Harry was grinning.
"Okay, this might be more fun than I thought if you're saying things like that…" He took his glasses from her. "I was… hmm… six? I was struggling to see the board at school so the teachers wrote to the Dursleys to say that I need to get my eyes checked." He put the glasses down. "I got them checked, surprise surprise, I needed glasses. They picked out the cheapest frames and have been stuck with them since. I guess my magic makes them grow with me? No idea."
"You never wanted to get… different ones?" Hermione asked him, actually curious.
"Not really thought about it, to be honest," Harry shrugged. "But you just asked another question and you said I could ask you something…"
He studied her for a moment, putting his glasses back down on the table. Without his glasses on, his gaze was all the more intense. She studied his eyes in greater detail, noticing how they were slightly almond-shaped and really striking. She could see the faint flicker as his eyes moved minutely left to right as he held her gaze, clearly thinking hard. Hermione felt a stirring in her chest, like nerves.
What is he thinking?
He rested the glass on his lip as he thought, clearly trying to think of a good question. Her gaze dipped to his lip. The skin had healed well, smooth and pink. Then his lip quirked up at the corner.
"Alright. I've got a good one," he said, looking a little pleased with himself as he lowered the glass from his lip. "If Krum hadn't asked you to go to the Yule Ball with him, who would you have wanted to go with? I'm assuming you… had plans to ask or be asked."
Hermione flushed all the way to the tips of her hair, or so it felt. She set her glass down at once. It had been a long time since she had thought about that. Eagerly anticipating for either Harry or Ron to ask her, to pull her aside or slip her a note. But the moment never came… because they never saw her that way, as a girl. They never noticed. And it had hurt, to the point that she took Krum's offer instead of waiting for them to notice. Then Ron noticed too late.
"I was actually waiting for you or Ron to ask me, but you never did."
"Both of us?" Harry looked astonished. "But I thought Ron-."
"Not then… and certainly not after how he was after the whole Goblet fiasco. I thought one of you would ask me as a friend, hoping for it, in fact, but…"
"We didn't. Ugh, we are so hopeless," he groaned, but then grinned, "who would you have preferred?"
"Excuse me, Harry, you've asked your question-."
"And you answered with me and Ron. You couldn't have gone to the Ball with both of us."
Damn him using logic against me! Her face was flaming.
"Fine. You. But only because you had better dress robes."
Harry burst out laughing. "Oh my God, I forgot about those robes Ron had. Hmm… I wonder what happened to them."
He leaned back against the lounger, the candles that Hermione had summoned bobbed around them, still caught in her charm. His eyelashes cast delicate shadows on his face, moving and fluttering with the flicking flames. Golden specks of light were reflected in his eyes. Gold and Green. Their two favourite colours.
"Hermione…?" his voice was low. She blinked and found those deep green eyes looking at her.
"Yes?"
"It's your turn. You have to ask me a question."
"Oh…" She looked down at her glass, seeing that it was empty, and set it down on the table. She considered for a moment topping up her glass, but she was very aware that she was feeling the effects. The sensible side of her dominated her playful side and moved back, bringing her blanket up as she felt a breeze rustle through her hair. She looked across at Harry, watching him as he dropped his knee and turned to lay on his side, turning his body completely to face her.
She searched for something to ask him. Him. Harry. Not the Boy-Who-Lived or the Chosen One. Something about his experiences, about the person he was. His character and personality. As she thought, she realised that they had a lot of the same experiences. They both came to Hogwarts without any connections or any prior knowledge about the world they were entering. They were both only children and, from what little Hermione did know about Harry's childhood before Hogwarts, they were both loners. She certainly had no friends in muggle school.
She found herself suddenly very curious about what Harry had been like before he knew about magic and who he was. A question struck her at once.
"What did you want to be when you grew up? When you thought you were a muggle, that is."
Harry had been studying his glass and looked over at her in surprise. He didn't smile. He drained the wine that was left in his glass and set it down.
"I remember being asked that in school. 'What about you, Harry, what do you want to be when you grow up?' and I never answered. I didn't know if there was anything I could be. I wasn't good at anything nor did I enjoy anything." He avoided looking at her as he spoke, his voice low. "Really, the only thing I wanted to do was escape. I wanted to be anything that wasn't who I was and where I was. I used to dream of flying… of being free, I suppose. Maybe that's why I like flying as much as I do. It reminds me of those dreams. Longing to be free."
It was the most personal thing Harry had ever said about his life before and it made Hermione's heart ache.
"I got my escape, at least," he smiled then. "Have I ever told you about what happened when the letters started arriving?"
She held her breath. Harry was actually opening up. She shook her head, reaching for the bottle and silently refilled Harry's glass. He took his glass, smiling his thanks at her. His cheeks were a bit flushed from where he was clearly a little tipsy.
"They went nuts. Well, my Uncle did more than my Aunt. At first, they just took the letters from me before I could open them. But as I wasn't opening them, the spell or enchantment that sends them went into overdrive. There were even letters inside eggs!" He shook his head, smiling. "My uncle nailed the letterbox shut to stop them coming through the post. Then one Sunday, there were thousands of them flying down the chimney… all over the place. So Uncle Vernon packed us all up and we went for a drive."
Hermione listened, astonished, wanting to ask so many questions but she let Harry finish his story.
"First, we stayed in a hotel, but a letter found us there. So then, somehow, Uncle Vernon found this hut in the middle of nowhere, completely remote, and shut us all up in there. He even got hold of a shotgun… well, anyway, finally Dumbledore figured out that someone needed to get to me in person so that's when Hagrid showed up and it just happened to be my birthday as well. And… then Hagrid kicked the door down and took me away."
The only sound after he finished was the soft flicking of the candles that hung around them. Hermione was frozen, going over every detail he had revealed. He drank some more wine and surveyed her over his glass as he lowered it.
"What about you?" He asked her. She met his gaze, seeing the golden lights in the deep green. "What did you want to be? Before you knew you were a witch?"
She looked up, seeing the stars above, sparkling away.
"Whenever I was asked, I used to just answer 'a doctor' as it just felt like what was expected and that answer always got a positive reaction. But really, I didn't know. I would look into different professions and try to see myself in them, but I didn't fit. I wonder if part of me always knew that I wasn't part of that world and I didn't fit because I'm a witch."
She saw a curious glint enter Harry's eyes. "You belonged somewhere else."
"I suppose I did," she said, feeling a wave of sadness as her mind went back to her parents, but then she looked over to Harry and saw him smiling at her. Warmth bloomed inside her at the gentleness in his gaze, at his pink cheeks from his slight intoxication, the way he was trying to tell her something with his eyes alone, a message concealed within one of his profound silences.
She got the message in green and gold. Their colours, together, where they belonged.
AN: So finally it's heating up. I might make some changes to this when I get moving on the next chapter, but we shall see. This is the lit spark for the changing relationships so it might alter a bit. Will be doing a parallel chapter with the meeting that's happening while Harry and Hermione get a bit too relaxed.
After that, we will have Hermione's Birthday, Harry's full recovery, and some surprises along the way as we go back to the horcrux hunt.