A/N: Well, I hit 400 followers on this story and I'd just like to thank each and every one of you. I'd also like to thank Lord Lovegood, Pagemember, Lythian-Malfoy, and bw29853 for adding Still I Rise to your communities.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.


Chapter 4

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, the quiet was serene and peaceful. He had just received his Prophet and was saddened by the story on the front. About an hour after reading it, he received an owl from Sirius, telling that he was working on the situation in the paper. After they had printed the first article about Harry, he had started negotiations, but after the article today, it would be enough to shut them down.

He looked over to the cabinet to his right, which had three different types of locking charms on it. It held two important things in it, though some wouldn't consider them important at all. Many would discard them as junk and throw them away, but they once held a very important significance about them.

A diary with a hole in the middle of it and a destroyed locket.

He remembered Sirius' sobbing a couple of months ago when he realized that Regulus had taken the locket from the Dark Lord and ordered Kreacher to destroy it. His brother had turned on the Dark Lord and didn't die a Death Eater. He was near catatonic for those days following, before he seemed to have a weight lifted off his shoulders. He and his brother had been close when they were younger, but then Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, Regulus into Slytherin, and he adopted the Dark Lord's ways much to the pride of his mother and was marked. Sirius was cast out of the family and lived with James. It pained Sirius because he loved his brother, even when he was on the other side.

Albus knew that he had been neglectful, using the excuse that the boy was too young, but now with Sirius out of Azkaban, he knew that it wouldn't fall in Harry's hands. The adults would take care of everything, though he knew the final act belonged to Harry. They would have to tell him about the prophecy this summer, and he was dreading it immensely. How do you tell a boy that he has to kill the Dark Lord because no one else can? Because you were prophesied and marked to? How do you tell a boy that he, himself, must save the wizarding world?

It was also the reason Albus decided to be be more proactive. It was why he had reprimanded Severus for his words against Miss Granger, along with Mr. Malfoy for calling her a Mudblood. He had been well aware of some students, namely Slytherins, common use of the foul word, but turned blind eye. It was getting worse and he knew that punishments needed to be handed out if the children had any hope of being forgiven.

As much as it pained him to admit, Mr. Malfoy was already tainted by his father to reform. But the others, it was possible.

He smiled thought as he thought about Mr. Potter's and Miss Granger's budding friendship. Deep down, he was quite proud of Harry for standing up for himself against his House. Soon, they would see the error of their ways and ask for forgiveness and Harry would forgive those who deserved it, and that would be right. Albus had learned the hard way that forgiveness is supposed to be earned, not just given.

He glanced down to Harry's recent grades and smiled as he saw the high marks he was receiving, no doubt from Miss Granger's influence. Without hinderance, the boy was growing confidence and spreading his wings. He was maturing, he was growing, he was unknowingly preparing himself and Albus was content to sit back and watch, for now.

-oOo-

Hermione Granger woke up with a smile on her face as she recalled the night before. She had a lot of fun with Harry during their personal victory feast made by Dobby. They talked and laughed and opened the egg before closing it because of the screaming. It was another thing for Hermione to get on researching. She suspected that it wasn't screaming, but some kind of code or language at a very high pitch. Thoughts for another time, considering the second task wasn't until February.

All in all, she had a great time.

She pulled herself out of bed to get ready for the day. It was a Saturday and she had nothing really planned for the day. Maybe she would help Harry out with the clue, that is, if he wanted to hang out with her.

Thoughts on the Boy-Who-Lived confused her. In the beginning, she thought that Harry was an attractive boy in her grade, but she didn't really give him a second thought beyond that and that he was the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Really, he was just another person, just like she.

Truthfully, she thought that he was quite arrogant along with Weasley. It had even bloomed the last couple of weeks in third year after his godfather was declared innocent; he looked like he was walking on air around the castle. She now knew that arrogance is far from what you could describe Harry Potter as.

Ever since that night in the Room of Requirement, where they actually spent time getting to know each other, something was stirring in her. It was something surprisingly unknown to Hermione.

She felt her heart quicken when he looked at her, she felt her stomach tighten when he smiled, and when he laughed, she felt light headed. She wanted him to look at her, she wanted him to smile at her, she wanted him to laugh with her. She thought that he had gotten even more attractive to her since they were spending a significant amount of time together. She wrote to her mother who came up with the conclusion. Hermione had developed a crush on him.

At first, she wanted to dismiss it and expel these feelings from her, but then realized that she was fifteen and old enough to consider these thoughts and feelings. Life was not all about schoolwork and books. She thought that maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself to fall for the boy. It felt surprisingly natural, like breathing. Like she truly needed Harry. Truthfully, because of her fear of the unknown, her feelings were scary, but she wanted to let herself feel them. She wanted to explore them despite her fear.

It brought her back to her fear of how much she found that she needed, at the very least, his companionship. She wondered what their relationship would be like if she had befriended him in first year, but those thoughts always brought her down a bad territory of remembering her injuries and perpetual limp.

She decided back then, laying in the hospital wing all those hours, that she wouldn't dwell on the past, because it was just full of pain. She also wouldn't think about the future, as it was too uncertain. She would focus on the now, and the now was telling her that she had developed a crush on Harry, all because of the stupid tournament trying to kill him.

There was a part of her, deep down, that still held an insecurity that it was all a big joke. She was scared that if she disclosed her feelings, Harry was going to laugh in her face that she would think he would want her; a bushy haired, know-it-all bookworm. Hermione understood that she wasn't as beautiful as some others in the school. She wasn't an exotic beauty like Cho Chang or the Patil twins, she wasn't a budding buxom blonde like Lavender Brown, she wasn't an icy princess like Daphne Greengrass, and she didn't have an athletic body with a pretty face like Angelina Johnson or Katie Bell. She was just plain; bushy brown hair, brown eyes, and a flat body. Nothing special.

But, the big question was, did all that even matter to Harry? She didn't think he was superficial, so maybe he could like her for her. It was asinine to say that looks weren't important because you had to be physically attracted to someone to form a connection, and Hermione did think that Harry was very attractive. What did he see her as? Maybe he would see past her looks and find some impalpable inner beauty that he thought she possessed. 'Who knew that an act of kindness could have led me to my first romantic interest,' she thought as she made her way out of the tower.

It seemed that Hermione wasn't the only one interested in her 'love life'.

She walked into the Great Hall and sat at the Ravenclaw table across from Luna, who was reading her father's paper, the Quibbler. Soon enough, the mail arrived and Hermione opened her copy of the Prophet, only to choke on her pumpkin juice at the headline and picture accompanying the article in the Prophet. There was her and Harry's hug from before the first task along with huge, bold words,

'Boy-Who-Lived Snared'

The article, written by that horrid reporter, Rita Skeeter, painted Hermione in the darkest light as a 'plain and ambitious muggleborn witch' who was feeding Harry love potions to keep him interested in her. They also said that she was feeding him loyalty potions that turned him against his own House. There were even quotes from Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy, who confirmed that she was smart and capable of brewing said illegal potions.

Hermione dropped the paper on the table, her hands shaking, her heart racing, her breathing quickening. She felt physically sick, and feared that she would vomit the eggs she had just eaten.

She could literally feel everyone's eyes on her, and wanted to sink into the ground. She had never been so embarrassed in her life and didn't know what to do; if she just sat there she would continue to be gawked at, if she stood up and walked out, she would draw even more attention to herself - if that was even possible. Witches and Wizards were impressionable and would believe the Prophet even if it declared that 2+2=5. She knew that no one would believe her anyway, a muggleborn. Her word was lower than the dirt they thought ran through her veins.

Standing on wobbly legs, mortified by the extremely loud silence, she quickly walked out of the Great Hall. Right before she exited, she started hearing the whispers. She winced at the foul words they were using to describe her and quickened her pace to get out of the least her tears held out until she was fully out of the Great Hall, where no one could see her dignity crumbling to the ground.

-oOo-

Hermione wasn't aware that the Boy-Who-Lived was having similar thought as she when he woke up. His first thoughts seemed to land on the bushy haired witch with beautiful brown eyes. 'They were quite lovely,' he thought with a smile as he got out of bed and started getting ready for the day.

He wasn't familiar with feelings, even less with girl's feelings, but Hermione was the first girl he felt truly comfortable with. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were too giggly and Ginny was a borderline stalker and still had a huge crush on him. The squeaking and running away when he was over the Burrow was damn irritating, too. Katie Bell and Angelina were just from the team, he had known them since he was eleven so he saw them as the closest thing older sisters that he would get.

With Hermione, he felt like he could just be himself.

From the first moment he met everyone, he was the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. He could accept that, but wanted someone to just see him as Harry. Then, this year, out of nowhere, Hermione comes and offers her help. She wasn't offering because he was the 'Boy-Who-Lived', she was offering because she could relate to Harry, the boy who had been cast out by his peers because of something out of his control. And she was Hermione, the girl cast out by her peers because of something out of her control.

It was Hermione offering Harry help, no strings attached, just a mutual understanding. It was also one of the best things to ever happen with he friend that he had gained from it. He kept questioning why he never tried to befriend her earlier.

She held many great things about her that he liked; she was kind, she was determined, she was utterly brilliant, she believed in him, she didn't babble about gossip, she talked to and treated him like a normal human being.

A blush graced his cheeks as he knew that there were also physical things about her that he liked; she had a nice smile especially after the Malfoy incident - he snickered as he remembered Malfoy walking around bandaged up like a mummy because of the boils.

'She also gives great hugs', he chuckled before wondering if he could maybe get another one out of her. Then he blushed even deeper at the remembered feel of her body against his and how it had embarrassingly reacted to the proximity.

As he was exiting the bathroom after his shower, he remembered that he didn't stick around long enough the day before to hear how he did on the task. Everyone was just yelling at him too, so he couldn't decipher what they were saying. His main goal was to come out alive, not to win, but everything went better than expected.

'Thanks to a certain bushy haired witch,' he thought with a smile. "Her hair isn't really bushy, just very, very curly. Hell, she has to have big hair to accommodate that large brain of hers."

He chuckled at the thought and saw Neville walking out of the bathroom and decided that he was curious enough to find out.

"Hey, Harry."

Why did he never form a deeper friendship with the shy Gryffindor? He just returened the smile,"Hey, Neville, how did I do in the task?"

The shy Gryffindor turned to Harry, his face confused, "Er...well, you placed first."

Harry blinked, "I did?"

Neville smiled and nodded, "Yeah, even Karkaroff couldn't find anything wrong so he gave you a seven. You even completed it in the least amount of time."

"Oh...wow."

"Yeah, you were brilliant. How did you do that mirror thing?"

"Hermione found it for me," Harry said with a smile on his face, thinking about his...well, she was his savior. Out flying the dragon, looking back, was a terrible idea he now knew.

"She's good for you," Neville suddenly said, causing Harry to look at him strangely, "You're different, in a good way. It's a good change."

Harry just smiled and nodded, "Thanks, Nev."

They walked out of the Gryffindor tower and to the Great Hall, hearing excited chatter already. As soon as they walked into the large doors, everyone turned to see Harry, though he was used to it and continued his stride toward the Gryffindor table. Before he could get there, Harry saw one of the last people that he wanted to see walking toward him and tensed up, "What do you want?"

"Don't worry, mate, we'll get you help for the bloody potions she's been feeding you," Ron said sympathetically, but with a tinge of anger that had Harry frowning in confusion.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Harry asked, glancing around to everyone's whose noses were buried in the paper.

"Uh...Harry," Neville said, before handing him his copy of the Prophet. He took it and saw the picture first, him and Hermione hugging before the flash startled them and they jumped away from each other. He was surprised at the pure annoyance on his face when he turned to see who disturbed their hug.

Then he read the article and he was angry. He kept reading and he became furious. At the end, there wasn't even a word to describe how enraged he was. "What the fuck is this shit?" he yelled, tossing it down on the table like the rubbish it was. Harry was never one to openly display his anger, so he caught the attention of most of the Great Hall, besides being the topic of the article. Fred and George Weasley picked up the paper and read it, glancing to each other and frowning.

"I knew that she was doing something to keep his attention," Harry heard Ginny Weasley tell Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil.

"Honestly, you saw how Harry has been acting recently. I figured it was potions or some spell," Parvati replied, before shifting her eyes full of pity to Harry.

"She's not doing anything! I'm not being potioned!" Harry snapped, his temper growing. He felt everyone's eyes on him, playing him out to be the victim of some pseudo crime committed against him.

When he realized that he wouldn't get anywhere with them, he focused on task number one: he needed to find Hermione and make sure that she was alright. He glanced over to her usual spot, only to find it empty. He walked over to the blonde girl who he sometimes saw sitting close to Hermione, hoping to find her whereabouts.

"Excuse me?"

She glanced up with slightly spacey blue eyes and he saw a pair of earrings in her ears that looked like radishes. She asked in a dreamy, sing-song like voice, "Yes, Harry Potter?"

"Do you know where Hermione is?"

"She left a couple of minutes ago after reading the paper."

Harry's heart sank into his stomach, "Thank you...er..." he trailed off, not knowing her name.

"Luna Lovegood."

"Thank you, Luna," Harry said, before hurrying out of the hall. He reached into his back pocket and took out his wand and the map, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

He opened it up and tapped it again, "Locate Hermione Granger," he said, watching as all the names disappeared. Sirius had added this modification over the summer after they had made copies of it. He saw her by the Black Lake and hurried out the doors. He didn't care about the slight chill, just wanting to make sure that she was okay.

He saw her sitting by a tree and felt relief swarm him, before he heard a sniffle and his heart plummeted into his stomach. She was crying. Crying girls confused him and he didn't really know what to do that bothered him, it was more that it was this girl who was crying and it was partly his fault. "Hermione? Are you okay?"

He winced as she glanced up and he saw her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks were damp and her nose was slightly runny. She hid her face and used the sleeve of her jumper to wipe away the tears, before looking back up and forcing a smile.

"Yes, just...completely mortified," Hermione said, her voice shaking.

"I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," Harry said, taking a couple of steps closer to her.

"No, it's fine, Harry," she said, shaking her head and forcing another smile. "I'm sure this will all blow over by Monday."

Her tone betrayed her words as she knew the inevitability that was waiting for her in that castle.

-oOo-

Just as expected, it hadn't gone away by the time Monday rolled around and everyone was still talking about Hermione. They weren't just talking anymore as she ha received hate mail and howlers from many who read the Prophet. She even got one from Molly Weasley who called her a scarlet woman. She had grabbed all the unopened letters so that she could throw them out, but one that had bubotuber pus in it exploded on her hands and arms, making them painfully swell.

Harry watched as Hermione ran out of the Great Hall while clutching her swollen hands and started to follow her, but stopped when Sirius' owl landed on his shoulder, a note on his leg. Leonis took the offered bacon from Harry's hand, before the black owl swooped back into the sky. Harry opened the note and read,

I'm working on the Skeeter and the Propet's reckoning. Don't worry, it's coming. Go to the hospital wing, tell Madam Pomfrey you want to get tested for love potions. Have her write a report and then send it to me. I'll take care of everything.

Tell Hermione to stay strong and stick with her.

Padfoot

Harry crumpled up the note and grabbed his things, making his way to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey was pouring potions on Hermione's swollen and boil filled hands. When she glanced over to him, he winced at the embarrassment and the hurt in the brown orbs, before she turned back to the basin.

She didn't acknowledge Harry as she walked out of the hospital wing, barely even looking at him. "Mr. Potter...Mr. Potter?!"

He shook his head out of his daze, "What?"

"Did you need something?"

"I need to get tested for love and loyalty potions," Harry admitted sadly, the guilt welling up inside of him. If only he wasn't the bloody 'Boy-Who-Lived, if only he was normal.

-oOo-

Hermione was walking through the castle with her head down, trying to make it through this mortifying day. She felt completely embarrassed, more so than she had ever been in her life, and she could hear the whispers, feel the stairs, and it felt like the names they were calling her were tattooed on her skin for all to see. She felt like Hester Prynne and bitterly thought that maybe she should embrace it and stitch a red A on her uniform since she was now a scarlet woman.

Her hands were hurting, every little bump to them was painful and she couldn't hold wand or quill. She really couldn't wait for the swelling to go down so that she could resume normal functions, it was all very frustrating how useless she felt.

She didn't want to speak to Harry, she didn't even want to look at him, knowing that she'd see guilt which would bounce right back onto her. The boy was too noble and took the blame for every little thing that happens to someone if his name comes up. It wasn't his fault that Skeeter wrote the false story, but of course, he would feel that. Hermione just wanted the day to end so she could curl up on her bed and sleep.

She was almost at her class, when her way was blocked by a brick wall of students. Glancing up, she saw the bane of her existence, Ron Weasley, standing in front a bunch of third and fourth year Gryffindors. She saw Ginny Weasley giving her the death eye and figured it was because of her fascination with the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. It was common knowledge in the castle of Ginny's dream of marrying Harry Potter, it was a little sickening to Hermione how obsessed she really was. She even saw Ginny Potter written on her notebooks.

"What the hell did you give him, Granger?" Ron Weasley snapped at her, his face turning a shade of red, darker than his ginger hair. Hermione just sighed, her patience already running thin.

"I didn't give him anything," Hermione defended through gritted teeth. "Why would you care about him anyway? You all abandoned him."

"We didn't abandon him, we just didn't know he didn't put his name in. Now we know," Ginny said.

"Did you ever try to ask him? You were his best friend, Weasley, you should have taken his word for it instead of acting like a jealous prat. Now, if you would excuse me," Hermione said, trying to brush past him. Unfortunately, the Weasley temper had reared its ugly head and he grabbed her wrist to pull her back to him.

She shrieked in pain and felt a popping sensation she knew was one of the boils. She then felt a sick warmth was added to the pain and she saw that the white bandages were turning red.

Harry was trying to find Hermione. He had a bad feeling churning in his gut that turned to a dropping sensation when he heard a shriek, causing his feet to move toward the noise. He rounded the corner and saw a bunch of his Housemates and crying Hermione who was clutching her hands.

He then saw red.

"Hey!" Harry yelled, running down the corridor toward them, "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Ron just looked at Hermine in disgust, "Nothing, just confronting the little Potions mistress-"

"She never potioned me! Don't you people listen?! This is why I told you to sod off, you don't listen. You just get your own ideas like you're right and everyone else is wrong! Leave Hermione alone," Harry yelled, causing all of them to jump slightly at the force of his voice. He turned back to Hermione, who was trying to pick up some dropped parchment with her hands, the bandages dotting red with blood.

Harry moved to help her up, "Hermione, come on, I'll take you back to the-"

"You've done enough!" Hermione cut him off with an angry and pain filled yell, causing Harry to jump back in shock. He saw tears rolling down her cheeks as she stood up and walked around him. "Just, please, leave me alone."

Harry stood rooted to the ground in shock, feeling like cold water just rushed over him. He heard a horrible voice in his head that told him he had just lost a friend.

-oOo-

In the dungeons, two friends were having a drink, reminiscing about good times. Severus poured another glass of Firewhiskey, passing it to his half-drunk friend, who was guffawing about their first task for the Dark Lord. There were three activities you had to participate in to become marked: torture, rape, and murder. Barty was with Snape when he completed all three. They had grown close during time spent together, 'co-workers' and friends.

Barty was in his normal form, not his Alastor Moody form, another thing to laugh about that they had fooled the Great Albus Dumbledore with polyjuice. Hogwarts was not as protected as it was said to be and the Headmaster was not as smart as many believed. His father was easy to take care of. A little Imperio and presto!

"Karkaroff is getting jumpy," Severus slurred, taking another drink of the burning liquid. It felt like fire going down his throat but left a nice warming sensation in its wake.

"He is not pleased, and Karkaroff will get his," the escaped convict then got a smile on his face as he teased in a sing-song voice, "I heard you got in trouble."

"The damn fool actually scolded me like I was a child," Severus growled, slamming the tumbler on the table and ignoring the laughs of his friend. He had never been reprimanded by Dumbledore before and it pissed him off. He had always had free rein to do whatever he wanted to the other unworthy students. He even set them up for failure in favor of his Snakes.

"His time is coming," Barty said with an excited gleam in his eyes. Severus over to him, knowing that he knew exactly when that time would be.

"When?"

"June. The last task," Barty eagerly informed his old friend, a smile twisting his features.

"Good. The brat will finally die like he was supposed to thirteen years ago," Severus growled. He wanted James dead and he wanted Harry dead. The Dark Lord had promised him Lily, but he had killed her instead. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to question his decisions, even know as weak as he was.

His time was coming and the spawn would finally die.


A/N: Have you ever been in pain and snap and you didn't mean it? If you have, I hope that you can see Hermione's side. I hope that you liked Dumbledore in this.

Next: An apology, an overheard conversation, and a Christmas surprise.