A/N: We're back! And before you ask, no, the rest isn't planned out properly. But I dream about it fairly often so that counts... right?
While we're here, I suggest anyone reading this to check out a tale far better written than my own. The Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter by Invieri is pushing 600k and I really want to see it finished, its an example of creating a world larger than the sandbox it was created in. And I love it. Please, if you're reading this trash Invieri, post again soon yeah?
Also something I've noticed about my odd writing style... Is it me or do you have to read it slower than normal, I read fast so I end up having to repeat sections of my own writing :/
Enough about me, finally a chapter where we get somewhere! How good!?
Coming of Age
The weeks leading up to his birthday were less exciting, something he was glad for. They mostly consisted of training, happy meals shared by all inhabitants and the start of some long overdue renovations. With a certain amount of favour pulling from himself, Amelia had checked for records of the Granger family and found little. Definitely no mention of the elder Granger's Dentistry Practise. So in the end, Helen and Richard spent their days at work with an emergency Portkey each. Despite the longer commute, both bore it happily. As in Richard's words: "You can't spend all day reading books you can't have a hope of comprehending."
They had even helped with the redecorating, much to Harry's enjoyment and Sirius's chagrin. His godfather's - by now well used - argument of 'It's my house' had little to no effect anymore in the face of both Granger females. And while the constant battles were amusing for himself, Richard and Remus to watch or partake in. The results were starting to show. Sirius had initially wanted to turn the whole house into a copy of the Gryffindor Common Room, but with the backlash he received, that idea was scrapped. The only room with such a scarlet and gold theme was his own Master Bedroom.
Harry had turned his own room into a paradise of neutral, the walls cream coloured that contrasted with the darker wood furniture. Sirius had outright refused to remove the Muggle Posters of girls in bikinis that were permanently stuck to the wall though. Hermione steadfastly ignored them whenever she was in his room, much to his amusement and confusion.
Hermione's room was brighter than his, her walls a sky blue with lighter coloured furniture. It always reminded him of Beauxbatons uniforms, a thought he'd vocalised to her only to find out she nearly attended the school herself. He'd also found out she spoke almost fluent French, something that surprised him in the fact that he never knew about it. Despite their fourth year experience and long friendship.
The portrait of Sirius's mother had been taken down by Kreacher who kept it to himself. Despite such progress, half of the house remained unaltered mostly due to them not being used enough. It was a much brighter and friendly looking sitting room that was to host his first ever real birthday party. Removing the heavy dark drapery had made all the difference.
So it was an excited Harry Potter that woke on the morning of July thirty-first. His sleep had been notably absent of nightmares due to the anticipation and exhaustion from his training the previous day. Hermione had joined in nearly half of the time, be it duelling him or them learning to fight together against either Remus or Sirius, or both. It took time and many hours of practise, but they were getting there. Hermione, being the more inventive and knowledgeable than he, used a plethora of spells to protect him as he focussed on the offensive.
The only trouble was fully trusting her with his defence, both knew it wasn't anything to do with her skills. Only his ability to trust others was the real sticking point, but he was trying, and gradually improving. Mad-Eye had even offered his services as an opponent, which they had accepted and was due to happen in the next week.
Meetings of the Order had been sporadic at best, with Dumbledore being seemingly too busy to call many. So visitors were few and far between. A notable absence throughout his time in Grimmauld Place was the Weasley Clan, whether it was because they didn't want to see him or were still grieving he did not know. He tried to not let it affect him too much, whatever their reason, it would be justified.
Even if they hated him.
Harry shook his head slightly, as if to physically remove the thoughts from his head, he couldn't be sad, not today. There were too many unknowns to be encountered today to think about much else, as the day had been entirely out of his hands. Hermione and Sirius had holed up together at random times in the last week for 'planning meetings', all of his questions were rebuffed of course.
He descended the many stairs to the Kitchen wondering just what kind of day had been organised for him. Even thinking THAT felt incredible in itself, a whole day, organized and completely a surprise. For him.
He hadn't been instructed on exactly when to wake up though, so he woke at his usual six and made his way to what would be an empty Kitchen. Until he quite literally bumped into another figure on the first floor landing, the light insufficient in the early morning gloom.
Once he recognised the shape he spoke first. "Morning Richard."
The elder man seemed to peer at him through a tired fog. "Good god Harry, how can you sound so chipper this early?"
He didn't feel chipper, but compared to the man beside him. He might as well have been. "Practise."
Richard rubbed his eyes and followed him as he descended. "Jokes as well." He grumbled quietly causing Harry to snort.
"What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?" He drawled in return, feeling happy inside that he could be so candid with Hermione's parents.
Richard harrumphed, then brightened. "I heard about the plans for breakfast, and I couldn't miss out."
Whatever the elder Granger had heard about this very special breakfast didn't reveal itself as they both entered the Kitchen. What they found was the usual coffee and tea, courtesy of an overly excited house elf.
"Morning Dobby." Greeted Harry as he reached for the coffee pot.
"Good morning mister Harry Potter sir!" Dobby replied, slipping into his old habitual greeting no doubt due to his excitement.
He suppressed a groan as he poured a measure into a waiting cup.
"Why can't I be greeted like that?" Richard observed in jest, until he saw the look on Dobby's face. "Just joking Dobby, thank you for this." He finished, waving the pot of tea before pouring his own cup, black with a slice of lemon.
The elf's smile returned. "Richy does not needs to thank Dobby for doing his job! Harry Potter's friends are too kind to Dobby!"
Harry saw the questioning look Richard directed at him. "His previous master was scum."
Dobby nodded solemnly while mixing something indistinguishable in a bowl half his size. "They were not nice to... Dobby."
He kept an eye on the elf in case more old habits revealed themselves, but it wasn't needed. Dobby mastered himself after a shudder of his limbs and returned to his work. Satisfied, he turned to Richard. "When are you heading off?"
Richard's replying look was quizzical at the least. "It's your birthday. Why would we spend a day working when we could be here?"
He swallowed a larger gulp of coffee than normal in surprise and worked to keep his emotions in check. It was heartening to know that they would stay with him. After working so very hard to get both Grangers to like him, it was evidence of his success, yet it still took him by surprise. "I just… thanks."
Thankfully, a barn owl clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet provided a distraction by sweeping through the open window near the ceiling. After it landed on the table - almost spilling over the milk jug, Richard mindlessly untied the rolled up paper and started rummaging for a knut. It was evidence of how long they'd spent at Grimmauld Place, and how easily they fit in, despite being Muggles.
Harry looked over at the little dish that held loose change - mostly knuts and the odd sickle, and levitated it over to him. Richard gave a nod of thanks and deposited the knut into the pouch around the owl's neck. Business concluded, the owl gave an irritated ruffle of its feathers and ascended into the air to leave the way it came.
They split up the pages with barely a word, Harry got the sports pages while Richard kept the rest. They spent a good hour absorbing both with the scuffle of Dobby as their background noise. Harry felt content as he read about a Quidditch Referee in Australia that was accused of match-fixing in favour of the solitary New Zealand team in the league. It sure beat life at Privet Drive.
"She's at it again." Observed Richard.
"What?"
The elder man ruffled the paper and began to read. "Minister Bones reportedly met with French Minister Deluc yesterday to discuss matters of trade and resolve apparently unfinished matters left by the bumbling corruption of the previous administration."
Ever since his own vocal support of Amelia Bones, the public had swung in favour of a woman that had only been respected rather than liked. He might have hated every second of the 'accidental' encounter with reporters in Diagon Alley, but the results had been worth it. The new Minister, riding the wave of support, had pushed through a number of acts. The enhanced powers given to Auror's had taken a while, but it had passed before she had taken office. Her efforts to increase the DMLE's budget though, had been stymied in the face of little overt action by Voldemort and his Deatheaters.
"She's actually doing something?"
Richard shook his head minutely. "Just the fact that this lot will twist the knife any chance they get at the previous Minister. It's still surprising that almost all of them take your word as gospel."
He snorted. "Tell me about it, and I know next to nothing about the Wizarding World. You'd probably know more, with Hermione for a daughter."
Richard returned his gaze to the paper. "Maybe, are you sure she wouldn't tell you more? As her… friend?"
His tone seemed off, somehow implying something to Harry's mind. "What do you mean?"
At that moment, he heard footsteps enter the kitchen. Before he could turn, he was engulfed in a hug from behind. "Happy Birthday Harry!"
His feelings of content intensified as he was engulfed in the pleasant smell of whatever conditioner she was using. "No need to strangle me Mione." He replied, but still gripped the arms around him to return the hug as best he could from his position.
She released him. "You'll live." She then made her way over to Dobby and conducted a whispered conversation. Her hair looked less bushy than what was normal for a 'morning Hermione', the change intrigued him. Only when she finished her conversation and turned to the table, did he realise he'd been staring.
Fuck. He took a sip of his coffee, then, realising it was cold, he distractedly tried a warming charm before realising he'd left his wand upstairs. Fuck! Embarrassed, he tried a wandless charm, only to have the cup become scalding hot in his hand. He hissed and let go of the mug, eyeing it with disgust.
While he was distracted, Dobby had begun laying out breakfast. One that was far different than the usual one, fruits, croissants and other pastries began to fill the table. He simply watched in awe as both Hermione and Dobby laid it all out.
Upon seeing the spread, Richard fairly threw the paper aside and reached for the closest pastry, causing Hermione to roll her eyes and a sigh of exasperation to sound from the doorway. "Honestly Richard!" Helen scolded. "You could at least wait until the Birthday Boy selects something!?"
Richard managed to pull off an abashed look while still munching on his chosen pastry. Harry snorted at their antics and looked to Hermione for an explanation.
She saw his look. "I thought we could do something else for a change. If we could have invited you when we went after second year, I would have. You would have loved France."
He simply nodded appreciating the thought involved. It's not like he had ever travelled before. He then picked out a few different pastries and scooped out a healthy amount of fruit. As he did, she settled beside him as Helen sat beside her husband who still looked like Christmas had come early.
An indeterminable time later, Sirius arrived in the Kitchen in a flurry of noise and colour, causing Hermione to shriek in surprise. When the dust had settled, an enormous crown had appeared on Harry's head. "Happy Birthday pup." Greeted Sirius, ruffling his hair as he passed on his way to his seat.
He couldn't keep the smile in, not with his godfather having so much fun, nor with Hermione beside him. "Thanks Padfoot."
…
Once Remus awoke and had his own breakfast, the males left for a Muggle Arcade close to Charing Cross, leaving the Hermione, Helen and Dobby to set up yet another surprise for him. He'd been reluctant to leave Hermione but she'd been adamant. He was to spend a few hours doing 'silly boy things' while she was busy. It might have been Sirius that heard her though as he was a boisterous ball of energy the whole time. Harry ended up having fun himself, usually teamed up with Richard against the Marauders, be it on machines or games such as pool and bowling.
He'd just started to relax and let himself be the sixteen year old he was when Richard pulled him aside as Sirius went for yet more drumsticks.
"I've always been proud of my daughter." He began without any preamble, leaving the teen confused.
"You should be." Harry replied earnestly, "She's amazing."
"I'm glad you honestly think that Harry." He looked away. "We haven't seen much of her since she got her Hogwarts Letter. And while that has been hard to deal with, we felt she needed that change." Harry simply continued to listen, having no idea what he was getting at. "She was bullied quite a bit at school. I'm afraid we were too busy, and at a loss of how to help her." His serious gaze returned to the teen. "I'm glad that she's found a friend such as yourself, a true friend, someone that can look after her when we can't."
He nodded. "Of course sir."
Richard gave him a reprimanding look for regressing to not calling him by name. "I'm also grateful for both you and Sirius for welcoming us into your home. We might have been nearly killed, but we also have also been able to reconnect properly with Hermione. We wouldn't change a thing."
Richard glanced at the returning pair of Sirius and Remus, the latter of whom looked amused at something, before dropping his voice. "If you feel anything more than friendship for her, you needn't be afraid of us."
Harry remained stock still, unable to formulate a reply. Had he been that obvious? Did he even feel anything like that? He only found her attractive, didn't he? or-
"Harry!" Sirius called, having rejoined them. "Tell Remus to do it."
Clueless as to what was going on, and his head spinning from what Richard had just told him, he just went with it. "Do it Remus."
Sirius gesticulated wildly. "See!? The pup speaks sense."
"What's this about?" Asked Richard.
"Padfoot here is under the impression that the woman behind the counter likes me." Replied Remus sternly.
"Because she REALLY needed to bend down to grab that thing in that fashion." Drawled Sirius.
Remus shrugged. "She looked half my age."
Sirius gave an exaggerated sigh and flopped back upon his seat at their table. Causing the rest of the table's occupants to smirk. Unfortunately for Harry, he started on him. "So what are you going to get her?"
"What?"
Sirius somehow managed to smirk and look exasperated at the same time. "You've got your tickets, now it's time to use them to get a prize. For her, not you."
He grimaced, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. His glance towards Richard didn't help, as the man shrugged and said. "I'll be doing the same, it's silly but." He shrugged again as if to say it still mattered either way
He looked down at his collection of paper tickets. A silly present for Hermione, can't be too hard can it?
He was wrong.
He'd stared at the wall of prizes for a couple of minutes now, yet nothing stood out to him as a proper present. Even if the word proper was out of context as almost all of the prizes were a collection of absurd colours that nearly made his eyes hurt. His paulty amount of tickets were barely enough for the cheap things, even when Sirius and Remus gave him theirs.
The girl behind the counter had seemingly infinite patience as he debated the pros and cons of each item. Although she was probably happy she had an excuse to make eyes at Remus. All he could think of was books, yet there was none in sight.
Until he had a brainwave. A particular thought about books had led him to think of her studying, studying for exams exactly, her hair wild, chewing on a quill. His eyes fell upon a squishy looking ball which had, 'Stress Ball' stamped across it. Squeezing that helps with stress? Well I can't think of anything else…
"I'll take that thanks." He said finally, pointing at the bright yellow ball.
The girl tore her eyes from Remus. "Sure thing luv."
With the transaction completed, Remus led them out smartly. Much to the amusement of Sirius and Richard. With the appropriate amount of time spent away from Grimmauld Place reached, they piled back into a taxi and headed back. Unable to alter his present outside of the house's wards, he asked Sirius to make some necessary changes discreetly. The ball didn't look any different afterwards, but he hoped she would like it at least.
All day he'd spent wondering what Hermione was planning for him, and each time he did, a warm glow would fill him at the thought of what she was doing for him. The second time he'd thought about it, he'd realised they'd never celebrated her birthday. The warm glow had been snuffed out instantly, replaced by regret, but not for long. He'd already promised himself that they would celebrate her birthday when it came about.
The time for waiting was over, and the three behind him waited for him to open the front door.
He'd expected a surprise as he opened the door - which had managed to dodge the renovations so far - but not a spell sent his way.
Keyed up and with reflexes honed over the past month had his wand up deflecting the spell away in the blink of an eye. His wand returned to bear upon his attacker until he realised who it was. Fred and George stood in front of him, looking perturbed to say the least.
"Drat George." The left one said. "Why does the Birthday Boy have to have a seeker's reflexes?"
"I'd say because he's our ickle seeker as well." Replied the right one, shaking his head.
They both moved forward and patted him on the back in greeting. "Happy birthday Harry."
"Even if you did ruin our plans." The other added.
Harry felt the smile grow on his face. "You'll have to be quicker than that." He almost asked how things were, but he didn't really want to know. They didn't wait and marched him into the sitting room, which turned out to be full of people. Neville, Ginny and Luna stood in front beaming. Hermione and Helen stood together off to one side, smiling identically. Tonks and Neville's grandmother stood next to two people that were unfamiliar to him, but one looked remarkably like Bellatrix. Deciding that Bellatrix never smiled like that, he pushed that conundrum to the back of his mind and he looked around further.
Dumbledore, McGonagall stood either side of Hagrid who somehow managed to fit inside without difficulty. Alastor Moody stood at the back of the room slightly apart from the Headmaster, both eyes fixed upon him and gnarled looking grin upon his face.
"Happy Birthday Harry!" Most of the group cried.
A proper grin tugged at his cheeks, despite some questionable attendees. It had been so long since he'd seen some of his friends, it all felt surreal, so surreal he paused in shock before finding Hermione and mindlessly hugging her tightly. Words had failed him, but he slipped the ball into the pocket of her hoodie as they parted.
There was music, there was games, but Harry Potter spent most of the time getting to the bottom of things. Namely; Who the two with Tonks were, Why he hadn't sent his Transfiguration teacher any of the promised owls, What Mad-Eye was doing there, Why all of the Weasley's hadn't attended, How Neville was getting to know his new wand, Why Sirius hadn't introduced him to Andromeda sooner, and why Ginny kept glancing at him and Hermione when she wasn't talking to Luna. Actually, he never got to the bottom of the latter. Hermione could only offer theories, and Luna was uncharacteristically quiet about the whole thing.
One thing he definitely found out was why Dumbledore was there. It had happened after they'd all finished their portion of the ornate, and satisfyingly Muggle Chocolate Cake.
Once both teen and old man were seated at the table in the currently empty kitchen, did he begin: "I assume you're wondering why I attended, considering our… previous disagreements."
Harry simply nodded.
"One, because you have, and always will mean a great deal to me, despite how you feel about myself. I'm glad you have so many to rely on, so many that know the real you." He gave him a gentle smile which relaxed him slightly, but he remained suspicious. "And also it is my wish that you attend private lessons with myself this year."
Harry, despite himself, was intrigued. "Why?"
"It is about time I had a greater hand in your education." He waved a blackened hand. "I have, perhaps, known Tom the longest and have spent much time delving into his past. I wish to provide you with the best tools I can to bring about Tom's demise. We will need to work together Harry, I may have brought an end to Grindelwald… But I cannot hope to defeat Voldemort alone."
His mind replayed the fight in the Atrium once more. He realised he had to relent, to work with Dumbeldore once more. I'll never trust the bastard blindly again though.
Dumbledore looked at him sadly, possibly having read his thoughts. "It pains me to even ask such of you Harry. I shall stand beside you when the time comes, and that time will come, as we both know."
He grimaced, the old man was right. And having Dumbledore beside him gave him a modicum of comfort, as long as he wasn't behind him at least.
At last, he nodded.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he rose lithely, infuriatingly so to him. "Thank you. I shall take my leave, and leave you all to your ravelry." With a small wink, Albus Dumbledore left, leaving his own mind whirring away at the possibilities. I have to tell Hermione.
He didn't get to straight away as the moment he re appeared, Moody pulled him aside, roughly at that, to chat about their coming training session. A chat he was happy to partake in, if a fake Moody taught him so much, the real one could only be better. After that, he had an enlightening conversation with Andromeda and Ted Tonks about his working in the Muggle World while living in the Magical one. After McGonagall joined them, the conversation moved decidedly into the reminiscent territory.
Feeling out of his depth he moved over to Ginny, Neville and Luna. All three brought an element of normality he'd been missing, Ginny had been the one to explain certain absences. Molly was still grieving and Arthur had stayed to support her, along with Charlie who was on medical leave, and Percy who couldn't face the fact that the Minister had been wrong for so long and had taken extended time off. Bill was somewhere in the Middle East and had no communication with anyone for weeks.
It was a relief to know that none of them blamed him for Ron's death. But he held no illusions that they wouldn't forget, only those that were there knew he wanted to go alone. His maudlin thoughts were interrupted by Sirius insisting he opened his presents, right at that second.
...
Soon enough - yet also after the longest of days - the party wound down. Only two remained as everyone either left or trudged upstairs to bed. Despite the lingering childish satisfaction of staying up late, the day, and the copious amount of Butterbeer was taking a toll upon his alertness.
Not as much as Hermione, who he noticed had fallen asleep upon the opposite couch while he was distracted by the flames that flickered as tiredly as he felt..
The distance between them that day had saddened him.
Her hugs throughout the day had become something to cherish, rather than an awkward experience they used to be. Maybe it was just the nature of that day, and how happy he'd been throughout it. It was more likely that he was finally getting used to them, actually realising that he should respond in kind whenever someone embraced him like that.
He really had no clue about these kinds of things. And as speculative as Seamus and Dean had been when talking about what girls liked or wanted, they hadn't come to many definitive conclusions. And while Seamus had been the most vocal about his 'experiences', anyone with the benefit of time spent in adulthood would label the boy an exaggerator in the extreme.
At least it wasn't just himself that was an audience for such stories, as he would always notice Neville trying hard to look like he wasn't listening. He wasn't alone at least in that regard.
As his thoughts broke and he looked over at her, he impulsively wished she had fallen asleep upon him rather than across from him. While the nature of teenage boys would suggest a certain reason for this desire. His own motivations were rather more basic, touch was important for him.
Sometimes he wished his uncle would hit him, if only to feel connected to another human.
Maybe it was why he was more attached to his cousin that had punched him far more than his Aunt and Uncle ever had. He really had no clue. He'd spent almost two years struggling to learn how to fit in, how to act, how to show he cared and how much his friends meant to him.
Hermione had given him his first hug.
She had also given him a token of affection he'd only seen in those who obviously loved each other. Kissing him on the cheek at the end of third year.
It had been a welcome reminder that he was human, not something for others to gawk at, glare at or yell at. And while he felt he never did anything to earn such affection, she gave it freely. She did not stand apart from him, like everyone else did. Sirius tried, but could not understand a boy that was broken far more than himself.
Sirius could hug him like a parent, but it wasn't his style. Harry couldn't begrudge him that, for he was still discovering his own sense of self. It eventually led him to realising he liked touch, even if it was a silly bump of the hips or a slap on the shoulder.
It centered him.
And that was the worst part of extended Cruciatus exposure; the malfunctioning of one of his most important senses. Trying to touch something, yet only ever feeling a tingling pain in the immediate area. The pain of the curse itself was over quick, like most pain caused by intentional harm. The sort of pain he knew intimately well.
A long sigh of tiredness escaped him, he'd enjoyed himself, but it was time to go to bed. But as he looked over at Hermione again, he realised he couldn't leave her there. It didn't look comfortable, and she would no doubt be angry at him for not waking her so she could walk herself.
He rose tiredly and shuffled over to wake her only to realise that he didn't want to do that either. She looked so serenely calm at that moment, it reminded him of her dozing off in front of the fire in the Common Room.
It was at that moment he had the Butterbeer-induced idea that he should carry her to bed before passing out on his own. Without magic, as he didn't trust himself to hold the focus required. Either that or he was simply more familiar with physical exertion.
Such a simple idea.
He was confident he could do it, he wasn't strong by any means but Quidditch had kept him somewhat fit. "You got this Potter." He muttered to himself, psyching himself up.
With his motivation peaking, he slowly, and as gently as he could, wrapped her limp form in his arms and rose fully to his feet. The dead weight in his arms was not light, but he was holding on fine.
Decision made, he carried her out into the darkened house. Each time he felt her breathe against him was something he drew strength from. Not in a million years would he believe he would ever carry her anywhere. Knowing her, she'd be more likely to carry me.
With a start, he realised again that she did in a multitude of ways. It was about time he carried her, even if only this once.
It was when he made it up the first flight of stairs, did he start to struggle. Halfway up the next one, he started to curse his inadequate body. As he reached the top of the second flight, he seriously considered calling Dobby. But he cut that line of thinking off quickly, this was his grand gesture, even if no one was around to see it.
As he tightened his grip and shifted her, she gave a small groan in her sleep, causing his heart to race instantly. What if she wakes up? How in the fuck do I explain this?
The burst of adrenaline saw him make it to her room. After thanking the gods for the door being left ajar, he made to settle her gently upon his bed and collapse with exhaustion. Only to trip on the rug and stumble, nearly toppling onto the bed with her.
Of course this woke her up. "What?" She murmured sleepily.
He tried not to panic at all of his hard work coming undone."Go back to sleep Mione, you fell asleep on the couch."
She patted the bed beneath her carelessly. "But-"
"I carried you up." He cut her off. "Now go to sleep, so I can."
Her lips twisted into a tired smile. "So bossy… thank you Harry."
He rose and moved away, despite the odd desire to stay for company. "Night Mione."
"Night." Uttered the Hermione-like shape in the darkness.
On his way back to his room, he spotted his present to her on the floor, no doubt it had fallen out of her hoodie pocket as his grip slipped on her. He picked it up, squeezing it, testing to see if the enchantment was still active. The peaceful feeling that swept through him was his answer, satisfied, he ended up placing it next to his glasses before he drifted into a content slumber.
...
"What's the story behind this?" Asked Hermione as they sat together against the wall of the cellar. Moody stood at the other side of the room, talking with Sirius. His godfather hadn't spent much time at home recently as he'd been a Gringotts, managing what was left of the Black Accounts.
He looked at the little yellow ball she held and smiled slightly, remembering the day he got it. "Long story, I'm not sure we have the time right now. Does it still work?"
She gave the ball a squeeze and smiled. "Sure does."
"Hopefully it still works by the time exams come around and you start stressing."
She looked a bit disgruntled at him making light of her revision. "And you don't?"
He adopted a 'better than thou' air. "I merely share a different philosophy on exams."
She snorted in typical Hermione fashion. "And that is?"
"If I can't remember it already, there's no point."
She nearly argued but must've realised the futility in it, instead she kept up rolling the ball in her fingers.
Moody, it seemed, had had enough of a break. "Right you two, swap wands and try again." He nearly yelled from the opposite wall, leaving his staff with Sirius who only grinned and remained in place.
Both blinked in surprise, after five-plus years in the Wizarding World, their wand was now an extension of themselves.
"You think I'm asking this for no reason?" Moody rang. "You never know when you'll need to swap wands, or use a wand of the fallen, your lives might rest upon how well you or your wand can adapt to each other!"
Chastised, they made the switch. Instantly he felt a tingling in his hand as he handled her Vine wand, it still felt familiar in an off-handed way.
"Your wand feels... heavy." Hermione observed.
"Your's feels… fine." He replied.
Moody's patience had worn thin. "You both better be ready." He said as he summoned his staff from Sirius and gripped it in his left, leaving his wand in his right.
Both took their positions, Hermione slightly in front of him and to his left. Over many hours, they'd worked out this method of fighting together. She would defend, absorbing the first attack before Harry would step past her and counter with his variety of lethal curses and transfiguration. Whichever position they were in as they moved, would guide their spellwork. It was tricky to get down, and Hermione couldn't bring herself to use the same curses he did, so this was the happy medium they'd worked out.
In the blink of an eye, Moody's stunner rocketed towards Harry.
The Holly wand in Hermione's grasp twitched, pulling her forward as she stumbled slightly, a shield charm springing into existence deflecting the hex. They both stared in surprise at the wand in her hand.
Moody sighed, presumably at the unexpected halt in training, grumbling: "You two have some research to complete, no point continuing otherwise." With no more words spoken, he clunked past them offering a typical Moody-goodbye. "Let me know when you have."
Harry stood dumbly staring at his own wand, while Hermione was thinking hard, evidenced by the chewing of her bottom lip. Such a typical display from his friend caused a shiver to pass through his body. All of a sudden, a habit he found endearing was suddenly incredibly attractive. And so… Her.
She regarded his now wide-eyes. "I know, there aren't many books on Wandlore apart from the basics." Harry didn't reply, still paralysed by his erratic thoughts. "Could we ask Ollivander? He made our wands after all."
He finally nodded. It was about all he was capable of doing currently. Until the events of weeks ago came back to him. "Shame the nose-less bastard has him."
She visibly wilted before his eyes. Immediately he didn't like the look, causing him to think furiously. After a few moments he had it. "What if he left something in his shop?"
...
-A Few Days Later-
It was an odd group that strolled down Diagon Alley in the waning twilight. Indeed, their silhouette appeared lopsided from behind, from the front though, it was a different story. The Alley was almost devoid of life, but those that occupied it did a double-take as the threesome walked by.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and his many titles, Harry Potter/Boy-Who-Lived and a girl no one recognised unless they'd read Witch Weekly together in public, was akin to a Muggle seeing God. Wizards and Witches, having no such god themselves, worshipped those powerful few of their number that rose to prominence once or twice every century instead.
Harry however had mind for none of this. He couldn't decide whether he was annoyed or not that he'd had to ask Dumbledore to accompany them. The protections an ancient wandmaker would put on anything that survived his kidnapping would no doubt be above their student pay grade. Hermione, of course, wanted to see one of the most accomplished Wizards in history at work as a learning experience. It was her, after all, that convinced him to ask for the old man's help.
Remus was helping Sirius sift through the never-ending amount of paperwork that had built up over the decade at Gringotts. Both knew they would have been of little help anyway, even if Sirius would have only come to keep an eye on Dumbledore. Still, it vexed the teen to admit needing help, the only silver lining was that he knew the old man was as fallible as himself, Sirius and Remus.
"I find that I've spent much time this summer searching for something or another." Observed Dumbledore as only he could as they neared the shop.
Hermione was still nervous around the Headmaster so he answered in lieu of anything else to do. "Such as?"
"A new teacher, as has become the trend ever since I have taken over the post from Dippet. It grows yet more wearing with each passing year."
"Is that all?" Replied Harry, he sensed the old man wanted to say more.
Dumbledore waved the other, healthier looking hand. "No, just what exactly, will be a major part of your lessons this year Harry."
Harry ignored the use of his first name, there was nothing to gain from being continuously angry at the man. Hermione however, looked up curiously at the topic of lessons. Something the old man noticed and commented upon. "You may join Harry in attending said lessons Miss Granger, as you will inevitably find out what goes on either way. It may keep important knowledge from being overheard by the wrong people."
She brightened beside him, but again, he couldn't decide whether he welcomed it or not. There were pros and cons each way.
There was no time to discuss it now however as they had just arrived at the blackened shop front. The few that passed looked curiously at the group, most no doubt thought they were going to help find Ollivander. It was a shame that the celebrated Wandmaker was out of reach of any sort of rescue, if he was still alive.
Dumbledore merely stood and examined each part of the structure they could see, using eyes, ears and the odd inclination of his head. While he tried to fathom what the old man was looking for. Hermione simply asked. "Sir? What are you looking for?" Her voice, much more subdued than you would normally hear in class.
Dumbledore replied after barely a pause, still staring into the darkness of the blasted shop, his hands behind his back. "With enough practise, power, and effort, one can sense certain types of magic. Especially known magics you have already encountered. Dark Magic, usually seldom used and experienced by others, is far harder if not impossible to detect."
"Aren't there spells for that?" Asked Harry bluntly.
"Many, in fact." Dumbledore replied, now withdrawing his wand. "However, the use of them can be countered, triggering traps that could either destroy what you seek, or yourself." He then stepped aside with a muted flourish. "Miss Granger? Would you like to, as they say, have a go?"
He watched her blink in surprise, before stepping forward and extending a wand in her shaking hand. "Sure. Sir."
"Put me to shame Mione." He winked at her, both in encouragement and as a joke.
She settled, not before rolling her eyes at him and then focused on the shop. "Homonem Revelio, Animus Revelio, Specialis Revelio." She chanted under her breath then waited for a moment. "Nothing."
Dumbledore nodded at her. "Indeed. If you would allow me Miss Granger?" She nodded, stepping back and he stepped forward in her place, wand a blur as he continued her work.
Harry didn't bother to watch him, he hadn't studied those sorts of spells and knew all of them would be beyond his comprehension. He glanced up and down the Alley before sparing one for her, the instant he did, he noticed the look of intense concentration and curiosity on her face as she tried to decipher the spells she saw.
It made her look incredibly attractive.
She'd directed that look at him before, mostly in their fourth year in the furore of preparing for the Triwizard Tournament. The hours they'd spent going through spells for him to learn, and him struggling to grasp them were filled with those kinds of looks. Mostly they were due to figuring out a way for him to understand unfamiliar spells, she would try to figure out why he couldn't get them.
If he were honest with himself, he'd taken her for granted that year. Although he was thankful he hadn't realised just how attractive she was when she brought her intelligence to bear on something. No doubt it would have just confused him more, and he'd had enough trouble learning those spells. Despite her effusive praise when he finally used the Summoning Charm as they had planned.
She then looked at him questioningly. After shaking his head, he refocused his attention upon Dumbledore who was smiling somewhat sadly at him. "It appears that you must go in alone, Harry."
"Why me?" He spluttered.
"Garrick has made it quite plain that only someone with your wand composition can find what he had hidden."
Harry fumed a little at the fact that it always needed to be him. "Couldn't you just remove the enchantment?"
"Remember what I stated before?" Asked Dumbledore paitently.
Hermione finished for him. "It'll be destroyed if anyone else tries to get it."
"Alright, alright." He grumbled before stepping gingerly into the store. He looked around at what was left of probably the most magical place he'd first visited all those years ago. Somewhat irritably and gingerly, he stepped through the wreckage. Some of the shelves were bare, the rest had their contents burnt to a cinder. He bypassed the counter and picked his way towards the back of the store and a lone unassuming looking door. Not knowing a spell to detect dangerous enchantments, he bit the bullet and opened it with his left hand. The theory being if it got injured somehow he would still be able to use his wand.
The room he found was what one would have expected of a wandmaker, countless stacks of varying types of wood lined three of the four walls. A single small window could be seen close to the ceiling, a long ancient looking workbench lined the length of the wall under the window, opposite the door.
A wordless 'Lumos' lit both his wand, and the many candles that filled every available space. No wonder he was so pale. Given the fact that nothing attacked him upon entering, he began to look around carefully.
"Accio." He muttered in frustration, thinking of information on wands. Outwardly, there was no effect, but he did hear a rattling from somewhere near the ground. What he found upon inspection of the area was a sort of handleless cupboard. The rattling had stopped but it looked promising. "Gotcha ya bastard." Tapping the wood with his wand had it opening wide, revealing small containers filled with silvery hairs, bloody heartstrings and one or two golden feathers. Next to them was a leather-bound book of sorts, it was a reddish brown, had a silvery lustre, yet had no title on the front cover.
Grabbing it with care, he flipped through it.
The first hundred or so pages were devoted to, and titled: 'Observations', the rest looked like a sort of diary. Now convinced of his success, he closed it, pocketing it. When he made it back outside, Hermione and Dumbledore were discussing something. Apparently the topic was heavy, or interesting, or difficult to understand, he couldn't tell purely by the expression on her face.
Instantly, he felt an unease with her in the old man's presence. Not that he had no reason to feel that way, well specifically at least. The many reasons he had to dislike the man didn't really apply to her. I think.
Pushing his thoughts aside for a while, he pocketed the little book in his hoodie pocket before joining them. With practised ease, Dumbledore politely changed the subject: "Ah Harry, I assume you were successful?"
Harry gripped the wand he'd kept in the same pocket as the book. "Yep. Thanks for your help."
Dumbeldore waved it away. "My pleasure, it was an opportune learning experience."
…
It hadn't been long until they were ensconced in the Black Library, and Hermione had Ollivander's book floating in front of her, turning the pages by wand. Apparently, she didn't want to damage it. In his opinion it was more dangerous to use magic instead of turning the pages by hand. But maybe that was just him, or maybe that was just his mind wandering because she seemed to be reading everything but the information that they needed.
"Mione." He said finally, laying a hand on her arm, mindful to not disrupt the magic that kept the book floating. "Can we get through the bit about our wands first? Then you can sleep with it under your pillow."
She blushed slightly, before slapping him sharply on the shoulder. "Hey! I do not sleep with a book under my pillow!"
"Ah, I have seen you asleep with a book on your face though." His deadpan delivery only earned him a seconds reprieve from the second slap. "It's true though!"
"And you're lucky for it." She huffed before pushing the book towards him with an irritated flick of her wand.
He didn't even bother picking up his wand, her level of control was beyond him. It was actually quite cool to see her using magic like that, but he kept that observation to himself. He grabbed the book, breaking the Charm and flicked through the pages by hand until he reached a chapter titled: 'Holly'.
There was no point reading aloud as he could feel that she had moved closer and was reading over his shoulder. Despite the distraction of having her so close he read on. Holly, one of the rarer kinds of woods to find as the wood only attracts Bowtruckles during the winter months. It is happier in the hand of those that need help overcoming anger, or impetuosity. Though I have observed that the wand does work in that fashion, to tempter excesses, the wood itself either gains impetuous traits or directs anger far more efficiently than other wands. Traditionally considered protective, it will usually choose those that are engaged in a dangerous and/or spiritual quest.
He grimaced as he read that line but pushed on.
It is also the kind of wood to change drastically depending upon the core, the most difficult being Phoenix Feather. The volatility of Holly conflicting with the soft detachment of the magical creature. If paired together however, the even distribution of available power can aid the wielder under any circumstances. I would not fancy a duel against any who wield this specific combination.
He glanced behind him at a Hermione that was deep in thought, seeing that she was finished reading though he flipped through to the tiny section detailing cores.
Phoenix feather, would be the rarest of core types available, only ever choosing to give a feather as it's impossible to catch a Phoenix unawares and it would be unwise to try. Nevertheless I believe there is some kind of premonition involved, that the creature can detect who it will eventually be matched to if the feather is given. Albus may be lucky enough to have one as a familiar, but he merely chuckles whenever I bring the subject up. If only they could talk to us, but alas.
This core shows the most initiative, sometimes acting of its own accord, a quality most Witches and Wizards dislike. Simpletons! The lot of them! It takes will to fully bend a Phoenix Feather core, also the right reason must be used to submit it to the wielder's control. Phoenixes are as headstrong a creature as I have ever seen. Because of this, their allegiance is hardly won, their wizards seldom chosen, their will the hardest to tame.
Sometimes I think Albus is Fawkes's familiar, rather than the other way around. It would make sense after all.
He couldn't contain the snort, if the man had acted as he wrote. He would have liked the wizened Wandmaker more.
"That explains what happened the other day!" Exclaimed Hermione excitedly. "But why does it feel so heavy?"
"Maybe Fawkes was judging you." He observed wryly. The way Ollivander talked about Dumbledore's familiar made him think that Phoenix Feather wands were rarer than he realised. Then he saw the look upon her face. "You're fine Mione, look, use it." He tossed the wand into her lap.
She picked it up, studying it closely. "Maybe we should read about my wand so I'll know how it's different to mine.
"Fair enough." Leaving his wand with her, he flicked through to the section on 'Vine'.
Vine, a seeming favorite of the Druids, but they loved any kind of wood if truth be told. The result however is something special, rare to find a new wielder but when they do; it's the hand of those who seem to desire a greater purpose. Those who have a vision for themselves and others, consistently astounding, would be someone who matches with a Vine wand, even to those who know them best. Vine wands seem to enjoy a mystery, they enjoy working with those who have hidden depths. They are also naturally sensitive wands, and can detect the presence of their match without them even needing to hold the wand. I have witnessed two such occasions of a Vine wand emitting magic upon their match entering my shop.
There was a scrawled note under this last sentence. Three now; Hermione Granger. Vine and Dragon Heartstring.
He didn't bother checking if she had finished reading, she read far faster than he ever could. Even as he flicked to the cores section once more, he couldn't help but agree with Ollivander, he'd described her almost exactly. Maybe now she would realise just how special she was.
His eyes widened and he fumbled with the pages. Did I just think that? DistractionDistraction. He started flicking through again before she would notice until he found 'Dragon'.
As a rule, Dragon Heartstrings produce wands with the most power, capable of any and the most flamboyant spells. They also learn quicker than other types and bond strongly with their wielder, they can be won by others but it will bond most strongly with the first. They are also the easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, although this is not their natural inclination. A great deal of control and care is needed to tame/use this core as it is most prone to accidents, temperamental as it is.
He couldn't keep in the outburst. "Christ Mione, he's literally describing you. Couldn't have hit the nail on the head any harder if he tried."
She scowled at him without any malice. "Pot call the Kettle mister."
"Oi!"
She waved her hands. "Impetuous? And 'Dangerous Quest' would be a polite way of saying 'Attracts Danger'. Sounds like you to me."
His eyes narrowed at her and he considered tackling her to the ground. He had no idea why, but she was being far too sarcastic to not earn some sort of punishment. What am I thinking!? He leant back upon the opposite side of the armchair to the one she was currently leaning on to give himself some space. Or to be able to look into her eyes. Or something. . "What does 'impetuous' even mean?"
She rolled her eyes. "Doing something without forethought, care or planning."
"Ah." His thoughts instantly went back to the Department of Mysteries, to every decision he made that night, to Hermione getting hurt, to Ron's lifeless body. He tried to sink into the chair away from her, but before he could she moved behind the chair and wrapped her arms around his neck and chest.
He started to tremble, between the guilt over Ron and the confusion over how he felt about Hermione it was becoming too much. Everyone had put the idea in his head about the two of them but he didn't know how he was supposed to feel, he knew even less about how she felt.
It scared him.
What if she thinks I'm mental for even thinking about it? I mean, I already am mental but… I can't lose what we already have, what I have somehow kept, a friend, someone normal who doesn't think I'm a raving lunatic. Who doesn't hate me for what I did. Fuck! Angry tears threatened to seep from his eyes and his traitor body moved of its own volition, grasping the arms around his body and holding on.
His mind flooded with random thoughts, a confused mess of what had happened, and what could still happen. He was glad he couldn't look at her, it made it easier to get the words out. "I don't want it to happen again. I… I can't let what happened to… Happen to you."
Her voice was consoling, but firm. "It won't, that's why we're training, you've already come so far."
"What if it's not enough?"
Her arms disentangled from him, but before he could think anything further she had moved in front of him. Leaning over him almost threateningly, her hands gripping each arm of the chair blocking his escape, her eyes boring into his. "How many times have you faced him and survived? Without ANY training?"
He remained silent, his brain wasn't being cooperative.
"You know what? Ollivander was right, I have a vision for the future, and I'll be damned if you aren't with me making the world a better place! I want to fix Britain's Blood-Purity mania, to introduce rights for magical creatures, for Elves like Dobby and Winky, to get rid of scum like Malfoy! And you're going to have to get rid of Voldemort Harry because I can't!"
His body was paralysed in the face of such determination, he'd never realised just how incredible she was. She was a force unto herself, it was… Incredibly attractive, even if her vitrol was directed partly at him.
She continued on in the face of his rapt attention. "You're going to be there, you're going to help me fix this world because you'll owe me! I'll be by your side the whole time, I'm not going anywhere-"
Impetuosity - now he understood the term - defined him quite well, sometimes it was because he thought he'd thought things through.
Other times it was because he simply reacted to something.
Very rarely it was because he did something he really wanted to do. Years of conditioning held him back, to save his own skin.
But now would be one of those times he just acted, both on instinct, and upon realising it was something he really wanted to do. Forgetting about the aftermath of such an action, refusing to reflect upon the nature of why he did what he did.
It was like how he felt about flying: The rush, the adrenaline, the utter comfort of being in the air, doing things on his own terms.
That was how he felt, as his lips crashed into hers.
For a fleeting moment, he felt like he was flying. Only this was better.
He heard the whimper of surprise, but he didn't care, even if it would never happen again - which in his opinion was likely - he would remember this moment forever.
Sated, he let himself fall back into the chair. His mind blissfully blank for only moments before the world came rushing in once more, his past and what he was. "Mione I'm sor-"
Because he could get the apology out, she fairly leapt upon him, pushing him further into the chair, her lips moving against his. He slowly, carefully placed his hand upon her back, being unsure with touch as he was.
Her response was to run her hands through his hair, moulding her body against his.
He could see himself becoming addicted to this.
A loud crack jolted them apart. A high pitched gasp followed it. He looked past her now bashful face to see his elf standing nervously before them. "Dobby apologises, Master Harry Potter! But Dinner is ready."
The obviously embarrassed elf disappeared with an equally loud crack.
Both teens shyly wiped the substantial evidence of what they had just done from their faces, as any experienced observer would note that it was a messy affair. Silence reigned as it took a fair amount of mental processing for the pair, one due to confusion, the other due to the sheer amount of possibilities.
Harry finally found his voice. "Uh, what now?" He then watched in panic as her face fell slightly, desperately he grabbed her arm. "Nonono, I mean, I don't know what to do. I've… I-"
She smiled fondly at his ineptitude. "I know. Let's talk about this when you have a full stomach, you won't be able to think otherwise."
"Hey!"
…
Sirius had watched the teens throughout dinner - when they finally came down that is - and noticed a change in their manner. His honorary daughter looked as if Christmas had come early, engaging the adults more often than normal, much to the elder Granger's delight.
Harry however, looked happy, if a little bewildered, staying mostly quiet unless conversation was directed his way. What those other than he didn't see however, was the fear. Sirius saw it whenever Tonks made a pass at Remus during Order meetings. Of course he'd talked to his brother in all but blood about it, and while he'd not agreed with Remus's defeatist outlook upon his condition. The man had his convictions, rather like his godson, rather like himself. Convictions that could only be suppressed and never fully eradicated.
He knew Harry had been doing plenty of self reflection after their jaunt in the Department of Mysteries. He'd become more aware of his nature, his failings and his goals. He held Hermione above himself and Remus, the reason had taken Sirius much time and thought, and as much wheeling as possible from his godson. The result hadn't cheered him up any.
It seemed Harry believed the three of them to be worthy only as expendable to the war, including himself. It explained his actions towards Hermione at Hogwarts, at least he thought so. It was supremely difficult to read his godson, let alone determine how the lad thinks. Yet again, he cursed the old man, and himself for failing to give Harry a proper upbringing. He even grumbled at the rapidly shrinking amount of time before they both went back to Hogwarts.
The latter led him to ask that Harry join him in the Sitting Room after dinner. The boy had grumbled slightly, no doubt losing more of his precious research time, but joined him nonetheless.
They both sat opposite each other, taking a couch each. Harry, still looking preoccupied, didn't seem to notice the silence that stretched between them. Not even noticing the fire spring in the being from nothing off to one side.
He bit the bullet. "What happened?"
Harry looked at him, confused. "What?"
"You've been acting strange, even more than normal." He finished with a smirk. One that was met with an eye roll from the teen and a shrug in response. "Something between you and her, and don't bother denying it."
"So what if it did?" Harry snapped challengingly.
"You don't look like the love-sick teen I'd expect to see." Sirius said, shrugging. "If you want to talk, ask questions, I'm right here, on this couch, right now." He finished with his arms wide, emphasising his current placement.
Harry seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before he spoke. "I don't know what to do now."
Sirius's heart soared as his godson basically confirmed his suspicions. "That's simple Harry, you either make things official, wait a while to test the waters, or don't pursue her at all. One thing you can't do is what you did at the start of the holidays, she is worth far more than that."
The teen hung his head at the mention of his estrangement of her. "I just want her to be safe. And that's usually as far from me as possible."
Sirius couldn't help but lean forward, determined not to screw up again in his handling of his 'Godfathership'. "Will you not defend her with your life?"
"I… yeah."
The fire popped and crackled as he continued. "Do you see everything she is, and what she can be?"
"Of course!"
The flame's light danced over Harry's face, his longer hair leaving a shadow that danced across his face. "Do you trust her?"
"Yes."
Sirius smiled in the face of something he long missed. "Will you consider how she feels about this?"
"I-what?"
Godfather held the godson's gaze with an intensity not many would attribute to Sirius 'Padfoot' Black. "If you do this Harry, it will be you two against the world. You'll need each other, and she's far smarter than you, listen to her."
Harry nodded absently, Sirius could see the realisation dawn in his eyes. "What if that's part of the prophecy? The old man said it was love, but what if it's her?"
Sirius saw his opportunity and pounced. "You better look after her and cherish what you have then."
A small smile lit up Harry's face, the added years fled from his countenance as he finally looked that age he was. "I will."
Was it manipulation? Probably. Was it necessary? Most likely. Sometimes Harry needed a push, to be provided with a piece of the puzzle to achieve a flash of understanding that he would run with. Harry could do so much with a little input. Being taught the Patronus Charm came to mind for Sirius. His godson learnt a skill that would save his life, connect with his father and managed to teach it to his peers who by all rights, shouldn't have been able to cast it. The notion of even teaching his peers at his age was another noteworthy example.
What he could do with Hermione at his side, with himself and Remus in the wings was far more than most. Both he and Remus would gladly trade their lives for a future world that included Harry and Hermione, together.
He leant back, forcing down a smirk. "So what will you do?"
Harry didn't bother answering, but left the room in haste, leaving a smirking Godfather in his wake. He hoped they could figure things out before they boarded the Hogwarts Express in a week's time. At least it would be one thing they figured out at least, one other thing they needed to sort out was armour. While his furry friend's body could take more punishment than the average human, he, and the teens needed some extra insurance.
He made a mental note to look into it upon his next visit to Gringotts, despite the sigh that escaped him at the thought of returning there. It had been a herculean task, reacquainting himself with family business. Deals, alliances with other families, dowries and a decades worth of fiscal stanganation gave him need for a stiff drink at the end of each day he visited the Goblin Bank.
At least his grandfather wasn't fully dark, the deals he'd seen only looked to provide the family with power of some sort. While it may not have been surprising that most of the alliances were with historically dark families, as they usually held the most power. He found a fair amount of deals with 'grey' families were usually to do with trade, providing land and buildings for businesses both legal and illegal.
Lord Sirius Orion Black let out a groan and rubbed his temples. It all gave him a headache, but if it could help Harry, he would do whatever it took.
At least some of the marriage contracts had some interesting clauses in them.
...
