Chapter 9

Hermione

"Look who I found in the hallway," I announce, leading Luna into the cabin. We just took off from the Hogsmeade platform, and the gang is still getting themselves situated in the cabin we claimed for the ride home. As I come in, the Twins take off, looking positively gleeful.

Harry gave them the Triwizard winnings this morning before we left the school. Along with a list of defensive items they either already invented in the other timeline, or that Harry thinks would be good to have. They've had that evil little grin on their faces ever since.

I don't know whether to be proud or afraid.

Probably a little of both.

With no Umbridge, at least they'll get their Newts this time. Mrs. Weasley will be thrilled!

"Who's the blonde?" Ron asks, looking past me to where Luna, blond hair long down her back, trails in as if by accident.

I smack Ron upside the head as we make our way inside.

"Oi!" He exclaims, rubbing at the spot I hit, but silences as soon as I shoot him a dirty look.

"Everyone, this is Luna Lovegood. Luna, this is everyone. You already know Ginny, I think."

Ginny smiles at the blond.

"Yeah, we're in the same year."

I always forget that Luna's a year behind us. She may be the weirdest duck I've ever met, but you can't deny she's brilliant.

"Luna, this is Ron, and Harry."

Both of my boys give her a little wave. Ron looks confused. Harry looks relieved.

We tried to corner her several times in the last week, but she doesn't hang out in the common area's yet, since she hasn't started hanging out with us. We always seemed to miss her at mealtimes too. Which made me afraid she was hiding from bullies and eating at strange times.

Which only added fuel to Harry's simmering fire.

She might not know it yet, but she's one of us. I pity anyone who tries to mess with her next year.

Okay, well, I don't pity them all that much.

"Hello, Harry," Luna says in her dreamy voice, perching in the corner of the train car. "I'm glad to see they sent you back again."

Or maybe she does know it after all.

Ron makes a choking sound and Ginny starts to pound him on the back. Harry's eyes bug out of his head, but he's at least somewhat accustomed to Luna's eerie capability of knowing things she has no right to know. He gathers his composure quickly.

"Thanks, Luna. I'm relieved too."

Ginny and Neville simply look confused.

She smiles serenely at him, her expression widening when I sit beside him.

"I see you've finally sealed the bond between you. Congratulations!"

Harry glances at me, a ' Do you have any idea what she's talking about? ' look on his face.

' Not a clue,' I confirm with a lift of my shoulder. ' Just go along with it.'

He gives her a strained smile.

"Thanks," he answers. "We're happy too."

I sigh, frustrated with the fact that I'm without the Hogwarts library for the next two months, and who knows when I'll be able to get to a bookstore. I run through the types of bonds I know of in my head, coming up with far too few.

"How are Winky and Dobby adjusting to the change?" she asks, and Harry's chest slumps in understanding.

The bond.

Harry bonded with Dobby and Winky.

"Good," he says, giving her a smile. "Dobby has already almost killed me twice, but I'm hoping his excitement will die down soon. I gave him a handful of gold and told him to have fun until I have something for him to do."

"Winky is staying at the castle," I add, "until I brace my parents for the fact that Harry gave me an elf as an early birthday present."

Ron snorts at that, complaining that he didn't get anything as cool for his birthday.

"I'll be sweet sixteen, Ron," I say, and he gives me a bewildered look. "It's a muggle thing. Don't worry about it. I promise to get you something epic for your next birthday."

"I'm gonna remind you of that," he promises, and I fall silent as the general chatter of the train car switches to summer holiday plans.

Harry leans back and starts to brood.

I'm sitting in the corner of the train car, my back to the wall. I'm reading a trashy romance novel, about a Wizard who rescues a Squib from a tower. The sex between them is so magical, that it gives her back her full powers. But I've disguised it as a book on potions, so nobody asks to read it.

Or takes the mickey out of me.

Harry looks asleep.

Keyword here being looks.

Harry's head is in my lap, his body stretched out over the rest of the bench. His eyes are closed, and his legs are crossed at the ankles. His fingers are entwined over his chest.

Only, the Sword of Gryffindor is lying lengthwise disillusioned down his body, and his fingers are actually gripping the hilt.

Neville is across from us, his nose buried in a book on Advanced Herbology. Ginny and Ron are on the floor, playing a game of exploding snap. Luna actually is asleep, I think, using Ron's school cloak as a pillow. Her feet are in Neville's lap. I'm not positive he's even noticed. My fingers trail lightly across Harry's forehead and over his scar, my pointer finger outlining the former Horcrux. I run my fingers through his hair, keeping a soothing rhythm before I reach the end and start my path again.

He looks like he's asleep, but every mile we get further from the castle and closer to his imprisonment in Surrey, the tenser he becomes. We're less than an hour from the station. He's practically vibrating with tension.

I'm almost glad to be going home, if only to be spared from some of Harry's pouting.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he says without bothering to open his eyes.

No one gives him the slightest attention. The people closest to us, those in this compartment, stopped listening to his bitching days ago. He's done little but, since.

Same goes with the double glances and sarcastic comments about our obvious change in relationship, whatever that may be.

We were in reversed positions, me laying on the couch reading with my head in his lap when the Twins asked us when the wedding was going to be. Harry asked Fred what Angelina's toothpaste tasted like when he licked it off the back of her teeth.

An unofficial truce was called, and both combatants removed from the field of battle. That was two days ago. Harry's bad mood has only gone downhill.

We haven't told Neville and Ginny what happened to us. We agreed that Ron was the only exception. Who would believe us anyway? But it hasn't stopped Harry from complaining about things he has no right complaining about in broad hearing of everybody else.

Like now.

"You don't have a choice, Harry. You have to go to your Aunt and Uncle's house."

Harry's hands tighten on the invisible sword.

"I'd like to see them try and make me," he grumbles.

Ron speaks up from his position on the floor.

"Me too, Mate. I could use a good laugh. You, an underage wizard unable to do magic, verses, well, probably every adult on the train platform. Please, try to refuse."

Harry never even opens his eyes. Neville peeks over his book, watching the play by play.

"Fuck you, Tosser," Harry says conversationally.

"Backatchya, Wanker" Ron says in the same bland tone. He smiles at me from over his sister's shoulder. My eyes flick down to see the same smile echoed on Harry's face. Eyes still closed.

I shake my head and go back to my romance novel.

Boys.

Mine and Harry's relationship isn't the only thing that's adapted in the last few days. Ron and Harry have gone through a brutal adjustment too.

Whether from weariness or lack of patience, Harry has stopped pulling his punches. Metaphorically at least. The old Harry was very cautious of Ron, his every choice dictated by how it would affect his best friend.

This new Harry doesn't give a fuck.

Ron has risen to the challenge beautifully.

Honestly, I think I like them better this way.

The sarcastic indifference is hand over fist better than ping ponging between the hostile cold shoulder or the pandering bromance the two flip-flopped between in the last timeline.

The carriage door opens, Lee Jordan preceding the Twins and…

Bugger.

Not today, of all days.

Cormac McLaggen comes striding in, looking like he owns the room. Fred and George look nauseous but shoot us apologetic glances before starting to gather their things from the overhead compartments.

No one says a word to him.

Harry's eyes still don't open, but his muscles pull so tight I can almost hear them singing with tension.

"I thought I'd come and say goodbye before the summer hols start," he says pompously, as if any of us care a lick about him.

When no one replies, I take it upon myself to move this little tete-a-tete along. I know what's coming after all. Or some variation of it.

This isn't going to end pretty for anyone. As discreetly as I can, I slide my wand into my palm. We'll be in London soon, then I'll be without magic for the next nine weeks.

"Yes. Have a good holiday, McLaggen. We'll see you on Sept 1st."

He smirks at me, oblivious or uncaring at the compartment full of dirty looks he's receiving in every direction. He hasn't looked at anyone but me since he came in.

I close my eyes and pray to Merlin he's not going to hit on me with everyone watching.

I wasn't lying when I told Harry that a good portion of the boys asked me out for the sole purpose of hoping to get under Harry and Ron's skin. But making a move with Harry's head still in my lap is extreme, even for Mclaggen.

"You looked good this year Granger. We'll have to go to Hogsmeade next semester. I'll show you all the best spots."

My shoulders slump in defeat and my breath whooshes out, my sudden exhale the only sound on the train.

In the world it feels like.

With one graceful move, Harry rises and slides from the bench, the scabbard in one hand and the sword free from its confines in the other. He disillusions it as he goes, so by the time he comes to a stop, the Sword of Gryffindor is shining in his hands.

Dammit.

I don't think this is what Dumbledore had in mind when he gave the heirloom to Harry.

Cormac swallows audibly, the motion causing his Adams apple to push against the blade.

"Harry!" I hiss, and he pulls it back some.

Harry never takes his eyes off the boy in front of him, twice as big as he is but cowering in fear. When he speaks though, it's directed towards me.

"Like this?" he asks. As one, the heads in the car turn from Cormac and the sword to where I still sit on the bench. "This is what you meant when you said they hassled you in an attempt to get one over on me?"

"Yeah," I agree. "Pretty much."

"And Slughorn's party?" he prompts, and I swear to Merlin, I don't care how many witnesses there are. I'm going to kill him with my bare hands. Stun him, sit on his chest, and choke him until his eyeballs pop out of his head.

"That one wasn't so much about you, I don't think. But yeah. Worse, actually. The man had more hands than arms that night. But you can't kill him, Harry. You promised."

I glance around the tiny cabin, and see a half dozen pairs of wide eyes watching the scene play out with rapt attention. What is it about Harry that makes him act without thinking it through?!

I rise to my feet, moving in the cramped space until Harry is forced to meet my eye. He does, for a moment, before returning his gaze to a trembling McLaggen.

"You promised me," I grit out through clenched teeth.

"I promised not to kill anyone. I won't kill him, just maim him some."

If Harry nicks him with that blade, he will kill him, whether he means to or not.

"Honestly, Harry," I huff in annoyance.

Cormac sneers at Harry, and I turn my head away. I don't want to see what's about to happen. If I don't watch it, I can't be called as a witness at Harry's trial. Too many people mistake size for power. Before he dies for real, Harry is going to disabuse a lot of people of that notion.

"Officially staking your claim, Potter?"

Cormac is...a moron. I thought Ron was obtuse, but this is ridiculous. Certainly, a boy with grades like his can't possibly be this stupid? I sit back down. Cormac is on his own.

The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for Harry's response.

Harry's anger burns in my chest. But his face is blank, his hand steady when he moves the point of the sword to press into the shirt over Cormacs heart.

"Claim?" he chuckles, the sound anything but humorous. "Like she's property? I should let you shoot your shot with her. There won't be enough left to bother cleaning up by the time she's done with you."

"No thanks, I'll pass," I say, pretending to read my book.

My emotions are ping-ponging between exasperation and trying to ignore how unimaginably hot Harry is jabbing that sword into Cormac's neck.

Cause yeah. It's doing something to me. Or maybe it's the sleazy romance novel.

Harry presses harder, and Cormac cringes.

No. It's Harry.

Damn.

That shouldn't be so hot. I should be furious. I can take care of my damn self!

But there's something about Harry with a sword that just flat out does it for me.

"You heard the lady," Ron says, fists tightened at his sides. "Leave, before we let Harry run you through and tell the teachers you tripped."

My eyes flick to Ron, and he's trembling with rage.

Finally thinking with the right appendage, Cormac takes two big steps backwards and flees, practically running from the compartment.

"Was that really necessary?" Ginny asks. Though she sounds more amused than irritated.

"Yes," every boy in the compartment answers.

The bell dings out over the speakers, and as one we start to move.

The Hogwarts Express has made it to London.

It's time to face my parents.