Hermione was a witch on a mission. For four days, she had made sure that Harry wouldn't fall behind in his classes, and while she would have preferred to stay at his bedside, so as to personally attest to his well-being, there were other things that needed to be done.
She had visited him, of course – there was no power either Muggle or Magical that would keep her from spending what free time she could scrounge up at his bedside. Neville, likewise, was just as adamant at spending time beside his best friend.
The loyalty that Neville displayed, that utter devotion to Harry that he wore on his sleeve – at times she wondered what it would be like to have someone as devoted to her. Perhaps, if she had been born to Magical parents, she may have grown up with Harry, Neville, and Daphne – maybe, she wouldn't have had such a lonely childhood before coming to Hogwarts.
None of that mattered now, though. Harry was injured – again – and he needed her help before the mounds of schoolwork drowned him. While she was very proud of being the top student in their year, often switching that title with Harry many times throughout the year, she believed in honourable competition. She wouldn't allow Harry's grades to slip because he was incapable of attending class.
At the very least, she was glad that he wasn't asleep for another two weeks this year – that had been the most terrible experience of her life. To see the boy that she had so unjustly disliked, simply because he was more in-tune with his magic, laid so low after he had leapt on the back of the Troll without a moment's hesitation to save her.
She was haunted by the sight of him, laying on the tiled floor of the bathroom, a pool of blood slowly spreading out underneath him. She'd woken in a cold sweat too many times for her to count, and it would take a few minutes for her to remember that Harry was, in the end, healthy and alive.
His most recent escapade had put years on her, she was sure. To see him harassed by that bloody Bludger had left her a trembling mess. She'd sprinted down to the pitch the moment he'd been thrown from his broom, and while he had never told her how he managed to channel his magic through his body like he did, she knew he would land safely.
After the incident, she had hovered around Sirius while Madame Pomfrey worked, and the quick glance she had caught of Harry's torso had left her in near tears. It had already turned violent shades of black and purple, and the usual outlines of his ribs had been warped and distorted by the impacts – how he was still alive, she didn't know.
In the days following, she had visited him when she could – sometimes coinciding with his other visitors, few as they were, and she found herself becoming more and more worried. It wasn't something she had been able to put into words, and even now, her wide vocabular failed her, but something had been off.
She had shared her concerns with Madame Pomfrey, in a quiet meeting between the two of them in her office.
The Healer had agreed and promised to speak to her best friend at the next opportunity. It had satisfied her, and she had left to continue her note-copying for the boy that had, over the last year, essentially become the centre of her world.
It had been a startling realisation, that almost everything she did now involved Harry to some degree. When she sat in class, Harry was usually by her side. When she studied, Harry was across from her. When Hermione went for a walk, Harry was right there with her.
Not a single one of her other friends – as shocked as she still was that she had more than the one – had spent the same amount of time by his side as she had. While they did spend many hours next to him, chatting away the time about something or another, none had quite dedicated themselves in the way she had.
After herself, Neville had been by his side the most, and that was to be expected – but she knew that Harry trusted Neville to look after Clara while he couldn't. At first, Hermione had wondered why Clara hadn't simply healed him with her tears, and it had been Harry that had explained just how weak it would make his Phoenix. It hadn't been until Harry's second night in the Infirmary that Neville had come up with the brilliant idea to use Harry's cloak to visit him at night – as a result, both she and Neville had snuck to his bedside each night since.
Daphne had spent time with Harry, and while Hermione was glad for the mending of the friendship between the two, they all knew things couldn't go back to how they were after only a few days. Hermione had been glad, of course – Daphne was one of his oldest friends and her absence had been felt keenly by all three Gryffindors, though by Harry the most. While a palpable rift had remained between the two of them, often skirting around uncomfortable topics or avoiding them completely. Hermione had enjoyed returning to the easy companionship they had shared before – her help had been most welcome in making notes for Harry.
Tracey had spent a fair amount of time chatting to Harry, and Hermione was happy that there wasn't the distance between the two of them that there was with Harry and Daphne. Tracey's easy-going attitude and light teasing were enough to loosen her best friend up and genuinely smile for the first time in a long time. The first sight of it had almost brought her to tears.
Sometimes, she couldn't help but marvel at the people that were drawn to her raven haired, green-eyed friend. That same friend that had instantly accepted her for who she was after he had nearly died trying to save her. He drove her to madness more than she cared to admit, but a single look in those intense, emerald eyes was enough to leave her short of breath.
He had a unique presence about him, something that, despite everything, drew her in. She could always tell where Harry was – even if he was on the other side of the castle, or in the middle of a crowd. When she had first realised, it had left her more than a little panicked – was it normal to feel someone like that? She could sense those around her if she concentrated, but with Harry it was instinctual, natural.
And how would she even be able to ask if it was the same for anyone else? She couldn't exactly waltz up to a professor and ask such a personal, intimate question. Just the thought of that was mortifying.
Even now, she could feel him in the Hospital Wing – his magic was agitated, on edge, and he seemed troubled by something.
Her pace quickened, almost subconsciously. Whatever was troubling Harry likely wasn't good, and she'd make sure he wasn't alone.
She got to the Hospital Wing quickly, her books clutched to her chest tightly as she quietly opened and closed the door behind her. Ahead of her were the only two occupants of the Wing – Harry and Madame Pomfrey. Harry was glaring at the Healer, while Madame Pomfrey had her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face – neither had noticed her entrance.
"For the last time, I don't want any of that bloody potion!" Harry snapped. His hair was far limper and more lifeless than she remembered seeing it before – his eyes looked sunken and had large, dark circles around them. She blinked, and instead she saw the Harry she always saw – Harry.
"Mister Potter, even if I have to force it down your throat myself, you will drink the potion – as it is, I've already alerted your godfather on the matter." Pomfrey replied in a tone that brokered no argument. "If I don't force it down your throat, it will be Healer Tonks – who should be arriving shortly."
"You called Andromeda?" Harry cried, throwing his arms up in the air. "It's bad enough you told Sirius!"
"You are not sleeping, Mister Potter – don't think I haven't noticed. You are not as clever as you think you are. Your body needs rest if it is to properly heal, and don't think I won't keep you in here until I think you've gotten enough."
"But I can't sleep." Harry ground out, glaring at the Healer. "If I go to sleep-"
"You have nightmares." Pomfrey replied flatly, and Hermione instinctively placed a hand over her mouth. "I know the signs of Post Traumatic Stress, Mister Potter – I'm a Healer." She added quietly, her voice softer as she sat down beside his bed.
Hermione recognised the name – how couldn't she? To think that Harry had it – it broke her heart – the boy whose smile always made his eyes light up, who had spun her around on the dance floor when nobody else would… Somehow, it made her sad in a way that she'd never experienced before.
"I don't have Post Traumatic Stress." Harry snapped, glaring at the Healer. "I have nightmares – that's all they are, and they'll pass like dreams do."
"Mis-" Madame Pomfrey began, only to clear her throat and begin again. "Harry, I looked after you before Sirius and Arcturus arrived to get you after his trial. You were here for a few days, as I've told you before." Hermione blinked – she'd never heard that before, and she suddenly felt more guilty than ever before about her eavesdropping. "The events you've been through, Harry, would more than qualify anyone to have it. That you can pull yourself from your bed each day is remarkable – I'm not sure I would be so strong in your position."
"I don't have it." Harry muttered, just loud enough for Hermione to hear.
"Then what would you prefer I call it?"
"Nightmares." He grunted after a quiet moment, and Hermione felt the prickling of tears in the corners of her eyes as her heart lurched in her chest. She'd never heard Harry sound so broken, so defeated before.
"Very well. There are only a few things I can really recommend, you're far too young for some techniques – and no, I can't stun you."
Hermione watched as Harry rolled his eyes. "Very well – I'm sure Andromeda won't mind if I ask her."
"She most certainly will not – she's a respectable Healer." Madame Pomfrey sniffed.
"Daphne might." Harry shrugged.
"I think she would be more likely to put you in here herself."
"Neville?"
"He'd be in the bed next to you, don't you think?"
"Tracey then."
"She'd set a creature on you."
"Hermione?"
"Miss Granger?" Madame Pomfrey snorted, startling Hermione from where she was standing – her arms still clutching her books tightly to her chest. "She'd drag you back to Healer Tonks and I, and make you deal with what needs dealing with."
"Merlin," Harry groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "What's the point in having friends if they won't stun you every now and then?"
"You've too much of your godfather in you – far too cheeky for your own good." Madame Pomfrey sniffed as she got to her feet. "Now, I do believe that Miss Granger has been waiting for long enough."
"Wha-" Harry began, his eyes growing wide as he immediately turned to look in her direction. Hermione felt her cheeks grow impossibly warm under his gaze and having been called out by the Matron.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overhear-" She began, only to be shushed by the Healer – a kinder expression on her face than Hermione had ever seen. She would admit it to no one, but Madame Pomfrey had such a stern, strict air about her at times that she often found it quite intimidating.
"You heard nothing more and nothing less than what I wished for you to hear." Madame Pomfrey smiled kindly. "This one," She added, glancing at Harry who was scowling from his bed at the Healer. "needs all the help he can get – Merlin knows he won't look after himself."
"But-" Hermione began, blinking owlishly. "What about Neville?"
"I fear Mister Longbottom would not be the stern hand that Mister Potter needs, wouldn't you say?"
Hermione nodded shyly and tried to hide behind the books clutched to her chest.
"None of that, dear – go on, I think he could use some company." Madame Pomfrey smiled, patting her shoulder kindly. Hermione nodded silently and slowly made her way over – Harry was staring intently at the far wall, where a picture of a scantily clad woman waved coyly at him. Hermione frowned at the picture and huffed before purposely turning and ignoring it.
Hermione began to chew on her lip as she fiddled with her fingers in her lap – she had placed her books on Harry's bedside table – while she looked at him worriedly. "Why didn't you tell me you had nightmares?"
"Because it's not important." He huffed, his eyes looking anywhere but at her – he looked exhausted. "I'm fine." He added, quietly.
"You're not fine, Harry." She whispered passionately, reaching out and snatching his hand between both of hers. His palm felt rough and calloused in her hand – she'd seen his sword, of course, but she'd often thought that it was merely an accessory – the Wizarding World, despite everything her friends had done to show her, was still so very new to her.
"It's my burden – not anyone else's." Harry replied quietly. "I'll get over it."
"Harry James Potter," She hissed, squeezing his hand "Nothing about you is a burden. You're my best friend."
"Thanks." He muttered quietly, pressing his lips into a sad, half-attempted smile. "So – care to explain why you were eavesdropping?"
"I was not eavesdropping – I simply walked in when you mentioned you weren't drinking a potion. It would have been rude to interrupt." Hermione sniffed, though the tugging at the corners of her mouth was barely suppressed.
"Ever the innocent."
"Of course – how else will I become Head Girl in our final year?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow and grinning.
"Ah, how very Slytherin of you – Daphne would be proud." Harry chuckled, shifting his grip in her hands until their fingers were intertwined. Hermione stared at their joined hands and couldn't help the giddy smile that split her face.
She had always noticed Harry – how couldn't she? His commanding presence had been almost intoxicating ever since he joined her on the boat across the lake. He was smart, and clearly powerful – though she got the distinct impression that he kept a firm hold on his magic, though she had no real proof. Despite her childish jealousy before the incident with the Troll, he had thrown himself into danger for her.
He had stayed by her side during the Gauntlet beneath the castle every step of the way. He had held her while she wept after being overcome by her fear of heights, and he had made sure that everyone was safe before he was rescued. She had sat by his bedside on both occasions he was injured that year, and more than once, she had been startled at just how young he had looked while asleep.
She had expected The-Boy-Who-Lived to be aloof, or, at the very least, distant. The kind, sweet boy who always thought of his friends before himself had thrown her for a loop. This was a boy who didn't mock her love for books, but actually shared them – a boy who listened to her passionate arguments about whatever subject took her fancy, and either calmly countered them with reasoned, well thought out logic, or agreed with her.
The boy that had danced with her on the most magical night of her life – who had gone to her before anyone else.
Hermione valued intelligence above all else, though, that wasn't to say she wasn't also a girl – Harry was, as Daphne would often tease, very pretty. His long, dark hair was thick and glossy, and his almond-shaped eyes were so intense, she often found herself staring – thankfully, Harry hadn't noticed.
She smirked at him. "I'll have you know I'm an upstanding Gryffindor, Mister Potter."
"I'd expect nothing less from the Gryffindor who set Professor Snape on fire." He laughed merrily – it was such a contrast to the exhausted boy she had seen stubbornly refusing to take a potion only minutes ago.
The door opened behind her, and Hermione turned to see Andromeda Tonks walk through in a finely made Healer's robe. Unlike Madame Pomfrey's, this had the logo of Saint Mungo's emblazoned on the breast and was slightly more form-fitting.
Hermione hadn't had the opportunity to speak to Andromeda at the wedding, though from what Harry had told her of the woman, she was a kind, thoughtful, witty woman – and Harry loved her dearly.
"Bollocks." Harry muttered as Madame Pomfrey moved to speak to the new arrival. Hermione turned and jabbed him in the hip with her finger. "Hey!"
"Language."
"I hear you're being a rather stubborn patient." Andromeda said slowly when she joined the two of them shortly after.
"I would disagree." Harry sniffed, and suddenly Hermione felt like an intruder in the conversation.
"Oh what grounds?"
"Principle." Harry muttered, and Hermione could help the quiet giggle that escaped her. Not a moment later, Andromeda's eyes were upon her, darting between her face and their joined hands – to which she simply smiled lopsidedly. Hermione felt the heat rise in her cheeks.
"Hello dear, I'm not quite sure we've been properly introduced. Andromeda Tonks." Andromeda smiled kindly, offering her hand.
Hermione quickly disentangled her hand from Harry and stood quickly, grasping the offered hand, and trying to ignore how different Andromeda's hand felt compared to Harry's. "Hermione Granger – I've heard a little about you. It's nice to finally meet you."
"Oh, so you're Hermione – yes, I think I remember you dancing together at the wedding now. I've heard a lot about you."
Hermione didn't think it was possible for her face to get any warmer – she smiled shyly and quickly glanced at Harry, who was busy running his hands down his face. "Leave her alone, Andromeda – or I'll tell Dora to walk around with a pig snout for a month." Harry sighed, levelling his gaze between the two of them.
Andromeda huffed, while Hermione frowned in confusion – no doubt something she would have to ask about later.
"So," Andromeda said, quickly clasping her hands before her and stepping around to the far side of Harry's bed. "you have two options."
"Wonderful."
"First, you take the potion and get yourself a good night's sleep." Andromeda began, ignoring Harry's comment. Hermione returned to her seat and edged it closer to the bed. "The second, I force the potion down your throat in front of your lovely friend for your own good."
"Your bedside manner is abysmal." Harry sighed, before looking between herself and Madame Pomfrey – who had been standing away from the bed slightly. "How long will it knock me out?"
"Until morning." Madame Pomfrey smiled sadly. "You should feel rested after it though – a few days of it, and if I believe you've improved sufficiently, I'll release you."
Harry was quiet, and Hermione found herself looking at him imploringly as she took his hand in hers once again, squeezing it reassuringly.
"Can Hermione stay? For a little bit, at least?" Harry asked after a moment.
"I see no reason to deny the request." Andromeda smiled kindly. "She seems like a very sensible girl." Despite herself, Hermione found herself sitting a little straighter under the praise.
"She will have to leave after an hour – I'm sure she has more than enough studying to do, but yes – she can stay for a little while."
"I'll take the damn potion then." Harry muttered, and within a heartbeat, Madame Pomfrey had a glass bottle in her hand with a viscous, purple liquid sloshing around slowly with each movement she made.
"I'm proud of you, Harry." Hermione whispered, just low enough for only Harry to hear it. "You'll get through this, and I'll be right here."
Harry grumbled to himself as he took the potion in his free hand and gulped it down greedily. Once empty, he grimaced and handed the bottle to Andromeda, who was closer than Madame Pomfrey and leaned back into his pillow.
"That was foul." He muttered drowsily, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was simply from how tired he really was, or just how potent the potion was. Not a few moments later, Harry was asleep – and he looked exactly how she remembered him after the Troll and Quirrell.
As the two older women began to quietly whisper to one another about Harry – something she only knew because she caught his name – Hermione reached over to one of her books, and pulled out the thick copy of Hogwarts: A History, making sure to keep her hand entwined with Harry as she did so.
She had a tradition to uphold, and nobody would convince her otherwise that it didn't help Harry.
"Chapter sixty-two," She began, quietly, as the two witches moved away. "Pentaghast's Penchant for Punishment. Headmistress Marigold Pentaghast was renowned for her creative detentions…"
Harry had finally been declared fit to return to his Dorm on the tenth of December, after having spent almost two weeks under Madame Pomfrey's care, and frankly, Hermione couldn't have been happier.
Classes had felt empty without her best friend's presence by her side, and his playful little nudges as the two of them battled for dominance over the desk behind which they sat – though both made sure never to nudge the other when they were writing.
Hermione, along with Neville, Daphne, and Tracey had all arrived a few minutes ago, each sporting small grins as they had joked amongst themselves – Neville playfully teasing Hermione over the last time they'd helped Harry escape the care of Madame Pomfrey, and how exhausted the two boys had been halfway up the staircases.
She had laughed along with the others, despite Neville embellishing certain parts, if only to assuage her worry over Harry. He had been in one of the side rooms getting changed since their arrival, and while it had taken far longer than she had expected, Madame Pomfrey had assured them that he would be fine.
Despite herself, she couldn't help but smile as the door clicked open and Harry shuffled out in a baggy grey tunic that hung to his mid-thigh, the dark trousers he wore, and his regular boots – he looked better than he had in weeks – already she could see how he held himself straighter, and how his eyes sparkled in the fading light of the day.
"Harry!" Neville grinned, rushing ahead of them all and picking the boy up and giving him a quick spin. "The little wolf is all better!"
"Neville – just got my ribs fixed – please don't break them again!" Harry groaned, squirming in Neville's powerful arms – Hermione giggled at the sight.
A year ago, if anyone had told her that she would be giggling of her own accord, she would have given a long list of reasons, with well thought out explanations, as to why such a thing was beneath her, and then promptly hexed them – now, it seemed as natural as breathing around her friends.
"Neville, down boy." Daphne commanded playfully, her lopsided grin on proud display. Hermione could hear Neville let out a quiet huff as he dropped Harry to the tiled floor, though not sudden enough for him to land on his arse – as funny as Hermione thought that might be.
"But I just got him back!" Neville pouted, folding his arms like a child – Hermione quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
"And you'll break your favourite toy if you keep it up." Tracey added with a wink. "Can't go breaking Potter again – Madame Pomfrey might give him a bed for his sole use."
"Don't tempt me." Madame Pomfrey said, approaching the group with a basket of potions. "You are to drink these each night before bed, Mister Potter." She said, handing them to him with a look.
"What are they?" Neville asked curiously, eyeing the sloshing purple liquid.
"Potions." Tracey answered him cheekily, beaming as Neville rolled his eyes at her.
Hermione, of course, knew exactly what they were. Harry's bones and organs were long-since fixed, despite the lingering tenderness that she knew he felt – it was a side effect of how quickly magic healed a body. While a bone could be knit back together in hours, the body wouldn't understand it was fixed for, at the very least, several days.
Madame Pomfrey had just handed him two weeks worth of sleeping potions in the guise of the last of his potion routine for his ribs – it was devilishly Slytherin of her, and for the first time in her short tenure at Hogwarts, Hermione found herself wondering just which house the Healer had been a member of.
"Thank you." Harry sighed, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. "They've been a big help."
"I'm glad to hear it, Mister Potter. Now, get on with yourselves – I believe you have a meal to go to, yes?"
Harry nodded, and the Matron walked away to no doubt go about her many other duties within her domain that were not looking after one Harry James Potter – who, in the moments that Madame Pomfrey had disappeared, had quickly closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.
Hermione frowned and tilted her head to the side slightly – did Harry feel ill? Dizzy?
She was about to move forward and see if he was alright when Clara burst into the room in a comforting ball of flame. She had made sure to help Neville with caring for Harry's two Familiars – as much as one could care for a Phoenix – in the time he was under Madame Pomfrey's care. Neville would spend time with Hedwig in the mornings before class, and Hermione would spend some time with the gorgeous bird in the evenings – usually with her perched on Hermione's shoulder, attempting to make a nest out of her hair.
Hermione had made sure to continue to take Hedwig to Care of Familiars, to make sure that she got a little bit of time outside that didn't require her to hunt, and to spoil her rotten. In the last months, Hermione had grown rather attached to the Snowy Owl, and felt all the more excited for the day when she would finally have her own Familiar.
Looking at the Phoenix now, as she nuzzled her hooked beak into Harry's palm, she couldn't help but wonder at just what hers would be. Whenever Hermione had sat in Harry's room with her and Hedwig, she had been quiet and aloof – barely acknowledging her presence, even when she had offered up pieces of meat she'd pilfered from the Great Hall. Hedwig, of course, had greedily eaten what she could.
Sitting in Harry's room had been strange. She had never seen the interior of his room before – in fact, she had never seen a boy's room. She had imagined it to be smelly disorganised. What a surprise it had been, to have found a room that was neat and tidy – dare she say even more organised than her own?
She had attempted to curb her curiosity, but when Clara would disappear to hunt in the evenings, Hermione had found herself meandering around the room and taking everything in – making sure not to disturb anything. The large, blank piece of folded parchment on his bedside, and a random piece of broken mirror on top of it had confused her – had he smashed a mirror by accident? It would explain his absolutely rotten luck. The parchment itself had seemed too old to have simply been left there for midnight notes.
The rest of the room had been equally as fascinating – his sword, with its wolf's head pommel staring down at her with its vacant, onyx eyes as it hung from the wall. Hermione had first noticed his sword in Diagon Alley – who wouldn't have noticed something like that in a shopping district? She had always meant to ask him about it, but something else would always come up – it was positively maddening.
His armour had also been in his room, arranged on a mannequin stand in the same corner as his sword – the long gambeson with its diamond patterning and small metal studs was something that stood out to her in her memory. She could still see him now, through the crowd, staring at her, with his hair tied back, and his sword on his hip. She hadn't thought twice about it at the time, but now, with everything that had happened…
Was it possible to persuade the staff to allow Harry to attend classes in his armour? It had looked sturdy and strong enough – Merlin, when Hermione had bought him the leather maintenance kit last Christmas, she had thought it simply an eccentric hobby. To have seen Harry in his armour had been something.
There had been his trunk, with the initials of J.C.P engraved proudly on the front – Harry had told her about his trunk last year – a remnant of his father. Even his room in his Dorm had once belonged to the larger-than-life James Potter. No doubt it had helped him feel closer to the man, and Hermione had simply smiled sadly at it.
Hermione had always known Harry was stuck in the shadow of his family's legacy. How could he not be? He had lost so much for someone that was almost a whole year younger than her. How much tragedy had he experienced over the years? There had been the purge that had been inflicted on his and other families during the Seventies, and then, on top of that, there had been everything from the last year and a half.
She couldn't imagine the strength it must take for him to face each day with his head held high, and for that alone, he had her eternal respect. To be counted among his friends was a heady experience.
It had been shortly after spotting his trunk, with Hedwig nipping her ear playfully, that she had seen the tapestry hanging on the wall by the window. It had been simply gorgeous, and her fingers had traced it in gentle reverence while the small faces grinned up at her – Sirius had winked rather playfully.
There had been Arcturus, with his confident, subtle smile and twinkling dark eyes. Two names she didn't recognise were beside his own – Cassiopeia Rosier née Black and Dorea Potter née Black. Both women were beautiful, with their dark hair and regal features, but what really set them apart was how they held themselves – Cassiopeia seemed aloof and distant, and Hermione had gotten the distinct impression she had been looked down on, while Dorea had smiled warmly at her and waved kindly.
There had been something about the dark-haired woman – specifically her smile. It was playful, and full of mischief and had a familiar tilt to it that teased at her memory. She couldn't remember how long she'd stood in front of the tapestry, scratching Hedwig with her finger – though the realisation had struck her like a bucket of cold water.
It was Harry's smile!
Once that connection was made, her eyes began to notice other similarities – the colour of his hair, the shape of his face – how much from his grandmother had he inherited, and how much of his grandfather? By all accounts, Harry was supposed to be the spitting image of his father, but for his eyes. What was Potter, and what was Black?
Her eyes had scanned Orion and Walburga Black, Sirius's parents – Orion was Arcturus's son, that much was clear, but the sternness of his features made him look so different. His skin was more tanned, and his facial hair was darker, but she could at least see Sirius in him. Walburga had stubbornly refused to look at her – though why she couldn't say.
In Sirius, she found none of Harry – it seemed the playful, mischievous smile of Harry's had come from Dorea, and perhaps some other distant relative. In Sirius, she saw the familiar cheekiness that she loved, despite not knowing him nearly as well as her best friend.
Sirius and Remus had been kind to her from the moment they had met at Harry's bedside. It would have been easy for them to hold her responsible for what had happened to him, and yet, they hadn't. When Remus had put his arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort a distraught, shaken girl, she had curled into him and wept for almost an hour.
Not once had they asked her what had happened, nor who she was. They simply let her cry into a stranger's shoulder. Over the two weeks, the three of them had spoken and gotten to know one another somewhat – Sirius had made her laugh more times than she cared to admit, and Remus had a sharp, dry wit that she appreciated.
The last name had surprised her the most – knowing Sirius had no children yet. Seeing Harry grinning up at her, with that same carefree smile that she hadn't truly seen since before the wedding, she had been reminded once again, of just how young Harry was.
It was a reminder she was experiencing once again as she watched him kneel before his Phoenix and talk quietly to her – a private conversation between the most brilliant boy she knew, and his equally brilliant Familiar. How had she gotten so lucky – to know the people that she knew, and to have the pleasure to experience some of the same things they did?
Something swelled in her chest as she watched him hand the basket to Clara, who took the handle of the basket in her beak before disappearing in a short burst of flame, and get back to his feet – his shoulders were squared, and his chin held proudly. Hermione couldn't help but nervously fiddle with her fingers where her hands were clasped before her when his gaze fell on her.
"I'm glad to see you up and about, Harry." She said, a little quickly.
"Not as glad as I am to get out of here, I'll bet." Harry smiled – it was small, subtle, but it was there. "Shall we get out of here?" He asked, looking at the group. She nodded with the others and couldn't help but laugh as Neville hooked his arm around Harry's neck, muttering something she couldn't quite hear, but had the two boys chuckling.
No doubt neither would be getting much sleep tonight – something she would be sure to remind them was nobody's fault but their own.
Tracey hooked her arm through Hermione's, and before long, it was the five of them walking along the corridors towards the Great Hall almost as if nothing had happened in the last two months.
"So, Granger – what are you doing for Christmas." Tracey asked, scrunching her nose playfully.
"Oh, I'm not sure yet – Mum and Dad have a conference they have to go to in France." Hermione sighed with a shrug as she tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "It was all very last minute, apparently."
"That sounds awful – is there nothing they can do?" Daphne asked, frowning.
"I don't think so. I'll probably either go to my Nan's or stay here."
"Well, good job that we waited to hear about what you were doing before we made any plans." Tracey grinned, squeezing her arm.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, her eyes growing so wide, she thought her eyes might just fall out. In fact, the only thing that kept her moving forward was the fact that Tracey had tightened her grip on her arm.
"Well, we were going to invite you to one of our homes – though that would've likely either been Féar Glas Hall, or Blackwall. Unless you would prefer to stay at Neville's castle." Daphne said with a roll of her eyes.
"Yeah – my place is way too small for all of us, and between the three of us, Neville's gran terrifies me." Tracey mock-whispered, shuddering at the end, causing both of the girls on either side of her to chuckle. It was moments like this that Hermione had missed the most in the last month.
"I couldn't possibly-" She began, only for Daphne to cut her off.
"That's why we weren't going to give you a choice, Miss Granger." She grinned. "Though, with your parents having to go away, I think we'll all have to stay at the castle – not a chance Neville and Harry would be able to stay if your parents couldn't come."
"Why?" Hermione asked dumbly – her parents would have come as well?
"They're boys, and you'd be there without any family or guardian – it's quite inappropriate in our society. All sorts of mischief could happen." Daphne grinned, wiggling her eyebrows playfully.
"Daphne!" She gasped, her cheeks burning as the flush covered her face. Harry and Neville turned to look at the three of them, and Hermione tried her best to hide behind her hand – she was mortified!
"Everything alright?" Neville asked, tilting his head over his shoulder.
"Oh, just fine – just talking about Christmas is all!" Tracey smiled, the picture of innocence.
"Uh-huh – what's the verdict? Harry's or yours?" He asked, looking to Daphne while Harry just rolled his eyes and gave her a weak shrug.
"Here." Daphne grinned. "Her parents are going away."
"Here it is!" Neville nodded before turning back to speak to Harry.
"Honestly, Daphne – you could have been-" Hermione hissed quietly, the heat of her embarrassment in her cheeks. She flailed her free arm wildly between the three of them and the two boys.
"Been what?" Daphne asked, feigning ignorance, her eyes mischievous.
"Less-" Hermione tried – if her face got any hotter, she wouldn't have been at all surprised if she broke out into a sweat!
"Less…" Tracey drawled playfully, joining in on the fun.
"Crass!" Hermione managed with a hiss, narrowing her eyes at the two girls, who both broke out into quiet laughter.
"Bless, she's all flustered!" She grinned, squeezing her arm affectionately. "Just think, you'll have us for the whole two-week break too!"
"I can't wait." Hermione sighed with a roll of her eyes, though she made sure to let her smile break through the exasperated façade she tried to put on – just make sure the two knew she was joking.
The following day was tense – Colin Creevey had been found in one of the corridors clutching his camera, that the five of them had been seen walking in late hadn't won them any favours at all, and the looks had continued along with the not-so-subtle whispers.
The meal had been going just about as well as it could have – the Gryffindor team had rushed Harry, abandoning their plates to make sure he was fine. It had been the one positive that had emerged from the Bludger fiasco, for Oliver, Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and the twins had rallied around their fallen Seeker and threatened righteous retribution on whomever had injured him.
Oliver had clapped Harry on the back, never one for overt displays of affection unless he was speaking of Quidditch, while the girls had peppered Harry's cheeks with kisses – something that still hadn't settled well with her – and the twins had promised to prank whoever had tampered with the Bludger.
That the five of them knew it had simply been an over-zealous House Elf hadn't helped to shift the memory of the students in the stands cheering as Harry had been chased all over the pitch – she could still remember some of the snickers from Hufflepuff when Harry had been knocked from his broom.
Harry had accepted it with as much grace as he could, given the circumstances, and the meal had promised to be better than most. Harry had been enjoying a delicious looking venison stew, Neville had opted for a meal of chicken, and she had enjoyed a lovely chicken fajitas with sweet, tangy peppers and onion.
Daphne and Tracey had sat with the rest of Slytherin House, as was expected, though Hermione had noted how everyone around them had shifted away as they sat – it seemed it wasn't just Harry that was being shunned. Neville and she had experienced their fair amount of bullying – she'd spent an inordinate amount of time fixing her bag, and the amount of books Harry had had to order for the three of them was absurd – she just hadn't expected Daphne and Tracey to suffer also.
It had started slowly, almost on the edge of her hearing, until it built into a crescendo among the rumbling of the Great Hall and its many, many occupants. It had been so common over the year, that she had initially dismissed it as simply the pipes in the castle. That Harry had suddenly cried out, clutching at his head, and moaning pitifully had settled a heavy, cold feeling in the pit of her stomach – her food had been forgotten instantly.
Nothing had struck him, that much she was certain of – she'd made sure to sit next to him and had always kept her eyes on him as he ate, while Neville had watched from across the table. There hadn't been anyone looking their way, and no sign of anyone pointing a wand.
The quiet groans of discomfort had grown to the point where Harry had been clutching his ears with both of his ears with his hands and tucked his chin into his chest as he rocked back and forth agitatedly. Neville had rushed around the table immediately, and there had been some sort of commotion at the Ravenclaw table with someone in their year – though the girl's back had been to Hermione at the time, so all she saw was Lisa Turpin and Sue Li leaning over to her.
Professor Cantrill had rushed to Harry's side in a heartbeat, as had Professor McGonagall – someone had called for Madame Pomfrey, but when Harry had started to complain about how loud it was, and how painful it was to hear, something had clicked in the back of her mind.
Bits and pieces of information from all the way back to the first time she'd ever read Hogwarts: A History, and The Myths and Legends of the Four Founders began to link themselves together in her mind.
The only thing out of place in the Great Hall had been the hissing of the pipes beneath their feet, Harry was complaining about something being too loud, and whatever was attacking the students had something to do with the Chamber of Secrets – the lost domain of Salazar Slytherin himself.
The Chamber of Secrets had been rumoured for years to contain a beast of some kind – Hermione had always assumed it to be some wild exaggerations meant to embellish the tale and add a sense of excitement to it all. But Salazar himself had been a Parselmouth – it had been the last piece of the puzzle that had clicked everything else together.
Salazar's monster was a snake.
An hour later, once Madame Pomfrey had fussed over Harry, who had calmed down at the same time that the hissing of the pipes – or the snake – had stopped, and made sure Lilith Kullens of Ravenclaw was equally fine, one of the Prefects had burst into the Hall, calling for Madame Pomfrey.
Colin Creevey had been found, petrified by the Transfiguration Courtyard. A handful of the staff had dashed from the room, and then someone had accused Harry of attacking him before arriving. To see Gryffindors rally around them, even if it was only the Quidditch team, had been the best thing she'd seen all year – after seeing Harry out of the bed, of course.
It had been as she and Neville had helped Harry back to Gryffindor Tower that she'd experienced her second revelation – if Harry had heard the snake, so had Lilith Kullens.
Harry wasn't the only Parselmouth at Hogwarts.
That Harry wasn't alone had been the only thing that had helped calm her during the night as she stared at the canopy of her bed. At some point, Hermione had fallen asleep, clutching her copy of Hogwarts: A History tightly to her – the chapter on the Founders still open, with not even a crease to the paper.
She had gotten up, dressed, and made her way down to the Common Room at the same time as Neville and Harry. Seeing Harry standing before her, in his usual dark doublet and looking as pristine as he usually did, had made her almost giddy, which had been a strange experience in and of itself. Hermione had never considered herself the type of girl who got giddy over, well, anything.
But seeing him before her, with his hair tied back, and his doublet hugging his figure – he looked just like something out of one of her stories.
The three of them had quickly meandered down to the Great Hall, and before they knew it, they were eating their breakfast, waiting on the morning mail. Hermione had helped herself to a bowl of fruit, as had Harry, and Neville was busy inhaling a bowl of porridge.
"It's quiet this morning." Harry said slowly, turning his head this way and that.
"It's a Sunday." Hermione shrugged easily. "After last night and the whole thing with Colin, I'm not surprised so few of us are down here."
It was true – the hall barely had more than a dozen other students that were up and about. Some were reading the Prophet, or other, similar publications, or were too busy putting food into their mouths, their heads only held up by the hands they leaned on.
"It's a shit thing that happened to Colin." Neville muttered, swallowing a mouthful of porridge. "I liked him."
"He's hardly dead." Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. "Un-petrifying someone requires extremely fresh Mandrakes – you can't just order something like that. They have to be grown and matured on-site."
"Aye – Professor Sprout has me helping her manage them. We've got a class on them coming up after Christmas, by the way." Neville nodded, spooning a little more honey into his bowl.
"We passed him in the corridor." Harry sighed from next to her, running his hand down his face tiredly.
"We couldn't have done anything, Harry – we didn't know." She said, grasping his arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiled slightly at her before turning to the entrance – a surprised look on his face.
She turned to follow his gaze, and grinned at the sight of Daphne and Tracey, both striding purposefully to their table and sitting down opposite the two of them – each on either side of Neville, who glanced between the two girls cautiously as he held his bowl protectively.
"I didn't think the two of you would be up yet." Harry chuckled, his eyes darting between the two Slytherins.
"Aye – Daphne needs at least two hours for her bloody hai- Ow!" Neville grumbled, rubbing the back of his head as he scowled at the girl next to him, who just looked at him archly.
"Oh, that wasn't me. It was Tracey. This was me." She said, cuffing Neville over the back of the head as he placed the spoon in his mouth. Hermione stifled a giggle behind her hand, while Harry chuckled happily at her side.
She'd missed this in her mornings.
"Did we miss the mail?" Tracey yawned into the back of her hand as she stretched, groaning happily as she let her arms fall to rest on the table.
"Not yet, you bloody brutes – can't even eat in peace without being assaulted…" Neville mumbled into his bowl, while the two girls simply grinned.
"I'll write to my parents about staying at the castle for Christmas – they'll be disappointed, but they'll have Astoria." Daphne shrugged, as the others nodded around her – Hermione could feel the sting of tears again, and she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the backs of her fingers.
"You don't have to…" She tried, only to be waved off.
"If it's between you and that bloody fox, it's you every time." Daphne muttered, her eyes narrowing at a spot on the table so intensely, for a moment, Hermione was sure the table would burst into flames.
"I thought he was rather handsome." Tracey replied with a cheeky grin. "His little bow-tie was just to die for."
"He didn't chew through your dress." Daphne replied with a huff as she pilfered a red apple from the middle of the table.
"Which one?"
"The burgundy one I showed you at the end of the year." Daphne sighed, taking a chunk out of her apple.
"It must have been terrible." Hermione murmured, absently pushing the fruit slices around on her plate. "Did Astoria at least apologise?"
"Oh aye – she apologised, but the girl is a menace." Daphne snorted after swallowing her mouthful.
"She's lovely." Harry quietly chimed in, chuckling to himself.
"Aye – she could do no wrong as far as you're concerned." The Greengrass heir scowled across the table, though it quickly morphed into a playful smirk. "It's okay, we still accept you – flaws and all."
"Flaws?"
"Oh yes – you're wrapped around Astoria's finger, after all. It's alright, I won't hold it against you." Daphne winked, propping her elbows on the table.
"No bloody peace…" Neville muttered, only to be slapped on the arms by the girls either side of him. At her side, Harry chuckled and returned to his food while other students slowly filtered into the room.
"Tracey," Hermione began, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. The girl looked up from her food and swallowed, her eyes wide and curious. "You're the best with animals out of us, right?"
"I mean, I guess?" She replied, frowning a little. "Though you probably know more than me." Tracey added, shrugging a single shoulder.
The eyes of the group were on her. She glanced around the Gryffindor table, finding an acceptable distance between themselves and the next students. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I think I know what's attacking the students."
Harry grew still beside her, and she glanced at him and worried at her bottom lip.
"You do? What is it?" Neville asked, his voice shockingly soft – so much so, that it took Hermione a moment to realise it was the same boisterous boy she knew.
"It's a snake of some kind." She answered quietly, holding her hands up as everyone sat back in shock. "Think about it – this isn't the first time Harry's mentioned hearing a voice before an attack, and all I could hear besides the other students in the hall last night was the hissing of the pipes!"
Daphne pursed her lips in thought, her chin propped on her hand and a finger tapping her cheek idly. "It would make sense, I suppose." She said slowly. "But it sounds like a coincidence."
"I-" She began, her pride refusing to let that one slide, only for Daphne to hold up a hand.
"I'm not saying it is, I'm saying that's what it looks like from the outside – we have to be careful about this."
"Why? If we can prove it, then Harry's clearly innocent!" Tracey said, bouncing in her seat a little – was that what she looked like when she was excited about something?
"What does the voice you hear say, Harry?" Daphne asked, turning her arctic blue eyes on the boy next to her. Hermione turned to look at him, and saw the pained expression on his face, and the way his fists were clenched on the table. She placed her hand over his and watched as the tension left his shoulders.
"It's called Ruhxu, apparently." He muttered, running his free hand down his face. "It started clear enough, but each time I've heard it since, it sounds…" He paused, grimacing. "Different."
"In what way?" She asked, her thumb moving back and forth along the back of his hand slowly. She tried not to think about how soft it was compared to how rough his palms were.
He shrugged, and his eyes swept the four of them. "The first time I heard it, I was with Lockhart – it spoke like the snakes at Magical Menagerie – last night though, I don't know – it sounded like it was in pain."
"In pain?" Neville grimaced, shifting in his seat. "I don't think I like the sound of that."
"Why?" Daphne asked, frowning as she turned to look at him. "If it's in pain, it might stop the attacks, or it could even die on its own if it's bad enough."
Neville shook his head fervently. "No – it'd be more likely to lash out and get angry. You see it with cornered animals a lot. For all we know, that's why it killed Justin."
"I didn't hear it with Justin – I might have-"
"No, stop right there, Harry." She snapped, squeezing his hand. "For all we know, if you'd have gone chasing after it, it could have killed you too!" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them again. "All we know, is that it's a snake, and people are being petrified – we don't know any more than-"
"Oh Merlin!" Tracey gasped; her eyes wide as she sat up suddenly. Hermione snapped her jaw closed and looked at her, startled. Tracey looked around at the four of them as her face paled. "There's only one snake that can do that – there's a bloody Basilisk in the castle!" She hissed.
"Impossible – they're illegal!" Neville whispered furiously. "Have been for centuries – who would be stupid enough to bring on here?"
"What is a Basilisk, and why are they illegal?" She asked, shifting in her seat a little closer to Harry – without realising, she pressed her thigh against his own. She glanced at him briefly as she fought the blush that was slowly creeping up her neck before quickly focusing on the matter at hand.
"They're a snake – the most dangerous in the world." Tracey began, reaching for a bag that Hermione hadn't even noticed she'd brought with her. She reached inside it and began muttering under her breath before grinning and pulling out a well-worn volume of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them as if it were the House Cup.
Hermione jolted as the heavy tomb impacted the table with a dull thud, and Tracey began to quickly flick through pages. "Here," Tracey began, pointing to a terrifying depiction of a truly monstrous snake. It had reared back, the two rows of terrifyingly sharp spikes along its back quite prominent, while it's open, tooth-filled maw was gaping toward the reader. Its hauntingly orange eyes stared right through her. "Newt Scamander included a page on Basilisk's in Fantastic Beasts."
"Bloody Hell, that thing is terrifying." Neville murmured. "Look at its teeth!"
"And those spikes on its back." Daphne added.
"I'm most concerned about the eyes." Harry muttered, running a hand down his face. "They can kill with a single look – and there's one here?"
"I think so." Tracey nodded, wetting her lips anxiously. "There hasn't been a sighting in Britain for hundreds of years – though, there aren't usually many survivors, all things considered."
Daphne snorted.
"The important thing is, we know how big they get, and we can just alert the Aurors." Tracey sighed, and Hermione nodded her agreement.
"You can let Amelia know, and she could have Aurors down here in no time at all – you said yourself, a few days ago, that Amelia's already investigating this." She said, turning to look at Harry.
"I did, but there's a problem – we don't know where the snake is."
"I would guess the Chamber of Secrets?" Neville said, shifting in his seat. "Clara could take them, right?"
"Aye – possibly." Harry nodded slowly. "Or, it could be a similar chamber to the one we were in last year. Or, it could be protected by Wards against Phoenixes – you know I can't risk Clara like that. Not to mention, how would they get reinforcements if they need them? How large is the space down there?" He asked, and Hermione had to admit – he raised good points. "There's too many uncertainties, and we have nothing besides a theory right now – a good theory," He added, holding his hand up as Tracey went to say something. "But a theory nonetheless."
"But what if it attacks someone else?" Hermione asked, worrying at her bottom lip. "There's been one thing in common so far – everyone has been a Muggle-Born. There aren't that many of us in the school as it is."
"We won't let anything happen to you, Hermione." Neville nodded resolutely, and Harry squeezed her hand.
"Anyone, or anything that attacks you, has to deal with us." Harry smiled, pointing at the group. Hermione couldn't stop the grin that spread across her lips – she could always count on her friends.
"I think we should find the Chamber ourselves." Neville declared, slapping the wood of the table as he leaned back. Hermione blinked rapidly, confused – why would they go looking for the creature attacking people like her?
"Are you mad?" Harry scowled, leaning forward, and glaring at the boy across from them. "It's basically a myth, and not to mention Tracey here," He paused, waving between the girl and the book on the table. "just told us there's a chance there's a bloody Basilisk in there!"
"Aye, but think about it, Harry!" Neville replied, his voice low as other students filtered into the hall. Hermione watched them all pass with a careful eye – most looked as if they had just gotten out of bed, their hair sticking up in all directions. Well, the boys did. "If Amelia brings the Aurors like Tracey said, you know she'll shut the school down until it's found."
Hermione gasped. "She wouldn't!" She cried, her breath coming in quick, short bursts as the panic began to settle deep in her gut – her breath caught in her throat, and she hiccupped painfully as her stomach lurched.
"She would – we'd all have to go home, or possibly, find a new school." Neville nodded solemnly. "A Basilisk isn't a trivial thing, Hermione – it's arguably more dangerous than a Dragon. The Aurors would tear the school down brick-by-brick if they had to."
She felt Harry wrap an arm around her shoulders as he pulled her body against his own. She wrapped her arms around his chest as she sniffled into his doublet. Hogwarts was everything to her – it was the start of her new life, a life where she fit in, where she had friends. While the last year had been trying and had seen her tested on more than one occasion, there was nowhere she loved being more. To think that she could be forced to study somewhere else… The thought was horrifying.
"Shut your mouth, Longbottom." Harry growled above her. "You know how much she loves this place."
"I do – we all love it, but Harry, you know as well as I what they'll do to this place."
"I don't want to see it torn down either." Tracey added, and Hermione gave one last pitiful sniff as she let go of Harry. She hadn't cried, at least, and the tightness was still there in her chest, but she could push through it. She fought the urge to hug him again as he gave her one last squeeze. "I love this place."
"I don't want to see it ransacked by Aurors either, but it's the most stupid-"
"Irresponsible." Daphne added casually, as if she were discussing the weather.
"Yes, thank you," Harry nodded. "thing you've suggested in years."
"I think we could do it." Neville huffed, folding his arms over his chest.
"You can't even get into the Slytherin Common Room – that's where everyone thinks it is!" Harry cried, flinging his arms in the air in exasperation.
"We could do it!" Neville replied, "We have Daphne and Tracey – Tracey's scary good with animals, and Daphne's, well, she's scary."
"Thanks, Longbottom." Daphne muttered, rolling her eyes.
"We've got you, the smartest bloody witch I've ever met, and me!"
"Harry's the charming one – which are you?" Hermione asked, not able to help herself.
"The comedic relief." Daphne snorted, causing them all to break into a round of snickers, while Neville pouted.
"I'm serious – we could genuinely do it."
"I do hope you're not planning on anything untoward." Came a voice from behind her. Hermione squeaked and jumped at the suddenness of the interruption as she spun in her seat, her hands clutched to her chest. Standing behind them, with a playful smirk was Professor Dots.
"Of course not, sir – we leave that for the twins." Neville grinned, and Hermione grimaced – their last prank still had the corridor outside Professor Snape's classroom smelling of garlic.
"Indeed." The professor winked, before turning to Harry. "Mister Potter, could you accompany me to my office? I have someone I'd like you to meet – sent on behalf of one Arcturus Black."
"Arcturus?" Harry gasped, blinking. He paused and looked at them all, and Hermione gave him her most encouraging smile.
"Go on, Harry – we'll find you later."
He grinned, nodded and was on his feet in no time at all, matching Professor Dot's pace effortlessly as they turned from the entrance to the hall and disappeared from view.
As Hermione roused herself from her slumber – something that caused her to pout involuntarily as the sunlight filtered through her window – she stretched her body, feeling the muscles in her thighs tremble pleasantly as her back arched.
The last weeks had been hectic – if they hadn't been in classes, they had been scouring the library for any hint or clue as to the location of the Chamber of Secrets. There had been references through a number of volumes about all of the Founders, but very little that was substantial when it came to Salazar himself.
She rolled over, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand as she took in the various open books around her on the bed. Some were closed, others had a bookmark of some kind sticking out of them, but the largest of them all – her copy of Hogwarts: A History – was proudly opened on the last page she had been reading.
Pushing herself up, she wiped the little bit of drool that had pooled in the corner of her mouth and stretched again, grimacing as the cool air from the room ghosted over the little bit of her stomach that was exposed by the action – no matter how many warming charms she placed about the room, it was never warm enough in a morning. It was practically criminal.
The soft bark of Hedwig on her windowsill made her grin as she swung her legs out of the covers, her feet padding softly against the mahogany floorboards as she moved to fuss the gorgeous bird. Hedwig preened under her touch, blissfully closing her eyes, and fluttering her wings – it was no surprise that her room was cold if she'd left the window open enough for Hedwig to squeeze through.
"Hello you." She cooed softly as she scratched the Owl under the chin. "Did you have a good hunt? Catch any juicy mice?"
Hedwig barked once and stood a little taller, her tiny chest puffing out ever so slightly, but enough to make Hermione giggle.
"Well, aren't you just the smartest Owl there was." Hermione grinned, tapping Hedwig lightly on her beak, which earned her a gentle nip. She had grown quite close with Harry's Familiar – especially in the time when he had been stuck in the Hospital Wing.
Hedwig had become melancholy in his absence, and there was more than once Hermione had stopped the loyal bird trying to fly toward an open window of the wing after Care of Familiars with Hagrid. Madame Pomfrey had made it very clear what she thought of animals in her domain – not even Sirius was allowed to transform.
"Come on, let's get you inside." Hermione muttered, holding her arm out for the bird to hop onto. Hedwig mounted her arm carefully, her sharp talons keeping a firm grip, but not enough to pierce her skin – she really was quite a considerable bird.
Hermione quickly carried Hedwig to her desk and poured her a small goblet of water from the jug that was always left topped up each morning – those House Elves Hogwarts employed were really fantastic.
As she quickly moved about her room, gathering her toiletries and articles of clothing – it was Christmas Day, so a big, fluffy jumper was definitely in order. Though, the lack of snow outside was a disappointment.
She went through her morning routine in peace – her Dorm-mates, Lavender, Parvati, and Lauren had all returned home for the holiday to spend time with their families. Lauren had made a conscious effort to know her, and unlike Lavender and Parvati, she hadn't initially brushed off her desire to learn, for which she was grateful.
Lavender was an energetic girl, something Hermione could understand – but she was a level of extroverted that she just couldn't wrap her head around. She liked the girl, and her only real qualm was the sheer amount of gossiping her and Parvati took part in.
Parvati seemed the polar opposite of her sister Padma – an extremely smart witch in Ravenclaw with an insatiable hunger for knowledge. Something she could relate to – after all, there was just so much to learn. Parvati, in comparison, was much the same as Lavender. A nice girl, if rather loud and giggly.
Lauren seemed to be the quietest of the lot – the only one of the four of them that came from an Ancient and Most Noble House, House Calvert, to be precise. Lauren had told them all a handful of things of her life, and to Hermione, especially upon first arriving at Hogwarts, it had all sounded rather fanciful.
Now, after everything she knew from her friendships with Harry, Neville, and Daphne – it sounded dreadfully oppressive.
She shook the thoughts of her fellow classmates from her mind as she dried her hair using the same spells that Daphne had taught her over the Summer – for the first time since she could remember, her hair was tame and fell in soft curls over her shoulders. She smiled and nodded her head – she'd put more effort into her appearance this year, and she was glad for it.
A year ago, she would have railed against the thought of needing to tame her hair – it simply wasn't important. She had wanted people to appreciate her intelligence and her mind, rather than what dress she wore, or how she'd brushed her hair. Daphne and Tracey had shown her that people could still take pride in their intelligence and wit while taking pride in their appearance.
It was a weapon, Daphne had said, to use her appearance to throw someone off balance. Hermione had protested the very patriarchal concepts of the Wizarding World when Daphne had explained some of the finer details to her, and the thought that she would be looked down on, simply for her gender infuriated her. It seemed only right that she could strike back in some fashion.
Her mother had been overjoyed to see her brushing her hair, of course.
Perhaps, in the years to come, people would notice her in other ways too. She wasn't blind – there were many boys and girls all through the years dating people. Some girls dated girls, some boys dated boys, and some dated their opposite – it didn't matter to Hermione, what people did in private was no business of hers; a sentiment that most of the students shared. At least there was something that witches and wizards handled better than the Muggles.
But she was still a girl who had grown up reading tales of gallant men that had rescued their princess and fought for their honour. She had devoured literature all throughout her life, each of the characters becoming her friends, filling the void where her peer's absence always lingered.
How many couples had she read of throughout her years buried in books? Aragon and Arwen, Paris and Helen, Bennet and Darcy, Butler and O'Hara, Eyre and Rochester? While none of those relationships were what she would call perfect, or even something to really aspire to – there were faults with every relationship, of course – it spoke to a part of her that yearned to be considered pretty and the object of someone's affections that weren't her parents.
Besides, what teenage girl hadn't considered their first kiss?
The more she had considered it over the last months, the more she hoped that perhaps, someday, it may very well be Harry. She'd caught herself drifting – many times – into thoughts of those powerful eyes of his lighting up when he saw her, of him holding her hand, and visiting Hogsmeade together.
She blew a breath out of her nose as she regarded herself in the mirror of the bathroom and pursed her lips in thought. Perhaps it hadn't been worth the effort to make herself look put together before heading to meet with the others, but she'd wanted to do it just as much for herself as to possibly catch Harry's eye – though, that seemed even more doomed ever since he'd met his tutor.
She was all he could talk about for the last two weeks, and while she could help but simply bask in his joy, there came a point where it began to wear on her. She was older, of course, in her mid-twenties by Hermione's guess, with dark brown and blonde ombre hair.
Hermione knew, logically, she had no reason to be jealous – after all, Micca Valencia was simply hired to instruct Harry in his Parselmouth abilities – but how could she not be? Micca was a confident, attractive woman of Filipino heritage if her smooth, pale complexion had been anything to go by – something that Hermione had thought had only added to the grace by which she held herself. It hadn't been until the following evening that Harry had mentioned the Valencia family – an old Noble family whose lands were on the eastern coast of Scotland.
Honestly, how could she, plain, Muggle-born Hermione Granger compete with that?
She huffed, halting her tumultuous thoughts – Harry wasn't like that, she knew that. Harry didn't care for blood or social standing. He cared about a person's character, and he'd already remarked a handful of times that he thought her pretty. That, for now, was enough for her. Perhaps, as the years went on, she could be more overt in her affections – if they even remained. Her parents had each dated many people before meeting one another after all – logically, it made sense.
She nodded to herself and hurried from her Dorm, making sure to close it quietly behind her. It wouldn't do to wake Hedwig if she'd drifted off to sleep.
Skipping down the stairs, she couldn't help but note just how quiet it was in the Tower with most, if not all the students gone for the holidays. It made her a little sad, knowing that no doubt more had gone home this year with the whole business with Harry and the attacks. In the end though, it wouldn't matter – they would find the Chamber of Secrets and clear Harry's name.
Harry and Neville were standing waiting for her by the tree, each looking expectantly up at her with small grins and an armful of wrapped gifts each.
"Anyone would think you were taking your time, Granger." Neville called, grinning widely as she came to an excited stop before the two boys.
"I like the jumper." Harry smiled, and Hermione couldn't help the little flush that heated her cheeks pleasantly.
She looked down at it. "You do? It was a present from my Dad."
It was true – her father had sent it to her a week ago specifically for Christmas. He claimed there was nothing more festive than a large, baggy Christmas jumper. She would have preferred it without the large Reindeer on the front and the garish festive colours, but it helped her to feel closer to her parents. It was also incredibly soft.
"I do." Harry nodded, shifting the weight in his arms.
"I like your outfit – both of you. It's very you." Hermione snickered as both boys rolled their eyes – both wore their usual doublets, though she shouldn't have expected anything else.
"Come on Granger, get your gifts – we're already late." Neville sighed, nudging her with his foot. Her laughter continued as she gathered the gifts up that were addressed to her – the only ones left under the tree before following both the boys out of the Common Room.
It had been arranged between the five of them that they would spend Christmas together and enjoy every second of it. To that extent, they had agreed to open their gifts as a group in one of the many empty classrooms on the second floor.
By the time they arrived, their journey having been in comfortable silence, Daphne and Tracey were already there, sitting in the middle of the floor on a large blanket with a handful of cushions arranged haphazardly.
"We'd thought you'd gotten lost!" Tracey called, waving them over.
"Did Longbottom have to spend all morning on his hair?" Daphne asked, arching her brow.
"Hey!"
"Oh, quiet Neville – with the rate your hair's growing, you'll be as pretty as Harry soon." She replied, rolling her eyes.
"I'm not pretty." Harry sighed, lowering himself and his armful of gifts to the floor across from the two girls.
"Yes you are." The four of them answered him, and Hermione couldn't help the snicker at his exasperated look.
"Come on, I want to see what you all got!"
"Hold on Tracey, we only just got here."
"Well if you hadn't been doing your hair-"
"It's my fault, sorry – I was fussing Hedwig and lost track of time." Hermione said quickly, cutting the argument off and saving Neville a teasing.
"Hedwig was with you?" Harry asked, his head tilting to the left curiously – it was one of his little habits. That, and the way he would frown when thinking on something important.
"She visits me in the mornings sometimes." She replied, shrugging a shoulder. "I really don't mind, though I think I might spoil her rotten if given the chance."
"You'd have to get in line behind Harry for that. Spoils his girls rotten, he does." Neville snorted as he stretched his legs on the blanket.
"Wrapped around their talons, he is." Tracey nodded. "Though, if I had a Phoenix…"
"There's no telling what mischief you'd get up to." Daphne cut in before picking up her first gift. "Now, presents!"
They all nodded to one another before setting off on their gifts. They fell into a comfortable routine of shredding wrapping paper and cooing over various items.
Hermione's parents had sent her a number of books she'd been hoping for, and a box of Cadbury's chocolates that felt rather full – while her parents were dentists, that didn't mean she lacked a sweet tooth.
Her other relations got her various books, toiletries, tops, trousers and skirts and the like – things she was used to and had come to expect with each year.
Daphne's had been such a shock that she had audibly gasped and dropped it back among the wrapping paper – a gorgeous slate blue sleeveless number with an intricate, shimmering pattern around the bodice.
"Daphne – these are gemstones!" Hermione gasped, her fingers tracing the tiny rocks with a shaky finger.
"Aye, white zircon." Daphne beamed. "Do you like it? Merlin, you've no idea how hard it was to keep it a secret!"
"I love it, but the gems-" Hermione blinked, her vision growing blurry at the edges and her bottom lip trembled slightly. "Daphne, you really shouldn't have!"
"Oh, nonsense – I'm allowed to spoil you rotten, Granger." Daphne grinned as she leaned over and pulled her into a hug. Hermione wrapped her arms around the other girl and gave her a quick squeeze. When they separated, she couldn't help but laugh as she dabbed at her eyes.
"Thank you." She murmured, smiling at the witch across from her.
The second gift she had opened was a small set of jewellery from Tracey that complimented the dress perfectly – the necklace was a thin chain that held a beautiful interwoven piece of silver that dipped into a beautiful V-shape, where a small, pale tear-drop shaped sapphire hung elegantly. The earrings were simple, unassuming silver teardrops. They were beautiful.
"Oh my!" She gasped, her hand covering her mouth.
"You got them for her?" Daphne asked, turning to look at the brunette.
"You bet." Tracey grinned triumphantly as Hermione looked at her with wide eyes.
"They're beautiful!" She murmured, placing her hand over her heart.
"Do you want to wear them?" Harry asked from beside her. She nodded shyly, earning a chuckle.
She quickly moved her hair out of the way as Harry got to his knees behind her, gently clasping the necklace and letting it rest over her jumper. It didn't hang as low as she thought it would, the silver V's highest points just brushing her collarbone.
"I'm glad you like them." Tracey grinned. "You can give me one of those hugs when we get out of here." She added with a wink.
Hermione nodded quickly and quickly put the earrings in before moving on to Neville's gift.
She knew what it would be without even having to look at it, for he had only wrapped the bottom half. For all of his larger-than-life personality, something which she thought incredibly endearing, Neville was a gentle giant when it came to plants.
It wasn't a large plant, nor did it even appear to be magical – but it smelled divine. Its little white star-like petals were in perfect bloom and standing out beautifully against the thick, waxy leaves.
"It's an Evergreen Jasmine." Neville smiled at her. "I know you love your Muggle roots, so I thought I'd give you something that would remind you of it." He shrugged.
"Thank you Neville – it'll go on my bedside the moment we get back up there." She grinned, carefully putting it down, making sure to not jostle the leaves too much.
Her last gift was from Harry – it was small, thin and definitely seemed like it was some sort of container underneath the wrapping paper. She unwrapped it carefully to reveal a gorgeous, deep purple, velvet box – no longer than the distance between her wrist and the tip of her middle finger, and only a few centimetres wide.
At her side, she could feel Harry's eyes on her as she opened the lid, the tiny hinges not making a sound as she looked on the impossibly detailed piece of silver inside.
Her eyes grew wide and her mouth hung open dumbly as she picked it up gingerly between her thumb and forefinger. It was styled almost like a Muggle Fountain Pen that she'd seen her mother use on occasion when working on paperwork from the practice. Intricately carved wolves were frozen mid-stride all around it. Her fingers traced the detailing.
"Harry – is that what I think it is?" Tracey gasped, scrambling closer.
"Mithril, aye." Harry smiled, and if it were possible, Hermione's eyes grew larger. She spun to look at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. "It's a metal quill – I've seen how often you work yours blunt. You'll never need another quill again." He added.
"Merlin's balls, Harry, I could buy my parents a house for how much that's worth." Tracey breathed, inching to get a better look at it. "Where did you find it?"
"Rosestone – I had Sirius go hunting for something from there, and when he mentioned what he found, I thought it perfect."
"No wonder, it's covered in wolves." Daphne snickered, rolling her eyes playfully. "You Potters just can't help yourselves."
"And a Stallion is better?" Neville asked, arching his brow at the Greengrass heir.
"We're far more graceful." She sniffed, turning her nose up just that little bit higher before turning to grin at her. "I'm glad to see my lessons on gift-giving over the years has improved." She winked at her, playfully. "He was ever so dreadful when we were younger. Tried to give me a book on Merlin once."
"Hey, it was well meant!" Harry protested, while Hermione looked between the two of them.
"He was a miserable old codger." Daphne harrumphed, folding her arms over her chest. "We women know these things."
"Uh-huh." Harry nodded dryly, and Hermione couldn't repress the small giggle that escaped her. Harry turned to look at her, his eyes soft. "Do you like it? I know how much Mithril can be, but I wanted you to-"
"Potter. Rambling." Tracey coughed into her fist, causing Neville and Daphne to devolve into a bout of merry laughter, while Harry flushed red.
"I love it, Harry, but it's too much!"
"Nonsense – I've been incredibly lucky in life, in many ways. Let me treat those I care about every now and then." He grinned, his eyes darting to her fingers as she turned the quill over gently.
"Alright, but next year we're putting a limit on things so you don't show us all up." She replied, arching her brow as she fixed him with a look. "Seriously, thank you Harry, everyone – I think this is the best Christmas I've ever had."
"Here's to a lifetime more of them." Neville added, grinning as everyone agreed. As she placed the quill back in its box, Hermione's eyes darted over to Harry and caught him looking in her direction with that small smile of his – the one that made his eyes crinkle in the corners and made him look more his age, while his fingers traced the book on British Heraldry almost reverently.
Yes, definitely her best Christmas yet.
