Harry and Hermione woke nearly simultaneously very early the next morning. As each became aware of the world again, they realized that they had somehow become even more attached than they had been when they'd fallen asleep; their arms were still tightly wrapped around each other, but their legs had also slipped through robes and become entwined, one result of which was that Hermione could feel Harry's manhood pressed tightly against her right thigh. Harry also seemed to realize this and started to make a move to extricate himself when she tightened her arms around him.
"We talked about this, Harry," she whispered, their heads still very close. She saw the concern and embarrassment in his eyes as his cheeks reddened. "It's okay. I want you close. I'm not embarrassed; you shouldn't be either." She wasn't sure what possessed her to do so, but she unabashedly pressed her thigh harder against him. "Nope, definitely nothing to be embarrassed about."
"Fucking hell, Hermione," Harry said, though he couldn't suppress a nervous but genuine chuckle as he twisted himself away from her before pulling back the curtain and standing up. "Give a guy a complex, why don't you? I swear I was a hair's breadth from a heart attack." Her action had the hoped for results, however, as he was no longer blushing, his embarrassment forgotten in the wake of her boldness.
"Calling it like I see it," Hermione replied. "Or feel it, as the case may be," she finished cheekily. Harry just ran his hands through his hair and looked at her exasperatedly, and she decided to take pity on him. "Do we have a plan?"
Harry sat back down on the bed after putting on his glasses and thought for a moment. She was absolutely right that they needed to figure out their next steps; everything so far had been emotion and instinct. "Well, the way I see it we have a few things we need to do. First and foremost we need to up our game; Stunners and Body Binds probably aren't going to cut it at the end of the day. I need to get that memory from Slughorn, and we need to figure out what Horcruxes are and why they'd be so important that Slughorn would alter his own memory." Harry sighed at the next one. "I need to talk to Dumbledore and try to figure out if he's going to help or if we need to avoid him." He looked up at her and smiled. "We need to study; just because we're about to take on a bunch of bigoted terrorists insistent upon my death and world domination doesn't mean we can afford to let our grades slip." She slapped him on the arm as she smiled back at him. He sobered, though, at his next items. "We need to talk to the Weasleys and find out when Ron's funeral is. I'd . . . I'd like your help coming up with something to say at it, if you think you're up for it." She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his shoulder as she nodded. "And last, but certainly not least, we need to find or help find whoever gave that bottle to Slughorn," he finished with so much venom in his voice that it sent a shiver down Hermione's spine. She thought about the list for a few minutes before she responded.
"Harry? How sure are you that Malfoy had something to do with it?" she asked tentatively.
Harry blew out a long breath. "I have no evidence at all aside from his reactions, but . . . I don't know. My gut tells me he either did it or knows something about it."
Hermione nodded. "Your gut is good enough for me for now. I think I have an idea as to how we might be able to get him to talk."
"Hermione?" Harry asked tentatively. He knew she was still off-kilter and didn't want her doing anything she'd regret later.
"Nothing too bad, Harry, I promise. For now, I think we should get cleaned and changed and have some breakfast. After that, if you let me borrow the Cloak and the Map I will work on the first part of my idea. In the meantime, maybe you can go to the Room of Requirement and see if it can help us out. It did a wonderful job last year when we needed to train; I'm wondering what it will give you if you ask now." Harry nodded, and she lifted her head up and kissed his cheek. "Get ready; I'll meet you down in the Common Room in a half hour or so," she said before rising and leaving the room.
He watched her go before flopping back on the bed, now adding 'confused' to the existing list of 'heartbroken,' 'determined,' and 'angry' that described his current emotional state. He had his missions, he and Hermione (at least) were going to war with the Death Eaters, he might have to go to war with the Headmaster, and his best mate had been murdered. It really seemed that he had enough on his plate already. That being said, his prevailing thoughts at the moment were how good it had felt to wake up next to Hermione and how much feeling her pushed up against him had turned him on.
For a while his feelings toward Hermione had been somewhat. . . jumbled. She had ever been and continued to be his best friend, the one person who, despite disagreeing with him on more than one occasion, he felt had never abandoned him. As the years of their friendship had passed he had also evolved feelings for her that he deemed to be like that of a brother to a sister. He enjoyed bantering with her like Ron did with Ginny, and he was protective of her like the Twins were of their little sister as well. And at times she annoyed him to no end just like he'd seen siblings like all of the Weasley children, Parvati and Padma Patil, and Colin and Dennis Creevey react to each other. Though he wasn't sure how he knew the sensation given his upbringing, he felt a deep-seated sensation of family when he was with Hermione. To him, she just felt like home. He wasn't willing to jeopardize that feeling for anything and so had subconsciously quashed any notion of romantic interest in Hermione.
This year, however, things had started to change, and those notions had started to pop up again. At the beginning of the year she had said he was 'fanciable;' she had commented on not only his strength of character for weathering the public and political storm of their Fifth Year, but his physical growth and attributes as well. That had thrown him for a loop, and it had made him notice her 'physical growth' as well. There's no denying she's a girl anymore Harry thought, having noted previously but now having felt her rather impressive chest pressed against him tightly multiple times over the last day. As he dove more deeply down the rabbit hole he cursed that thrice-bedamned Amortentia from the beginning of the year. He had noticed the flowery smell he had gotten from it when Ginny had taken the Prince's book from him, and that had driven 'the beast' that he'd started feeling in his chest over the summer further down the path toward the youngest Weasley. But it wasn't until yesterday when he had moved Hermione's hair away and breathed in her scent as he lay behind her that he noticed that Hermione smelled the same way. More than likely she and Ginny had the same soap or perfume; it made sense given how close they were and them sharing a room when at the Burrow. Maybe Hermione was more economical with it and so he hadn't consciously noticed until he was right up against her for a long period of time. But now he had, and it had caused even more internal turmoil.
And then, THEN, she had to go and do what she did earlier, causing his teenage libido to spike and driving his already frazzled mind places he wasn't prepared for it to go, not to mention confusing him even more. With his emotions already messed up from Ron's death he wasn't sure what the hell was going on in his head. What he immediately knew was that he wasn't getting any answers laying here in bed, and there was work to be done. That didn't mean he had to like how scrambled he was currently feeling towards his best friend.
God damned stupid hormones Harry thought as he grabbed his towel and started getting ready for the day.
{-}
Hermione made her way downstairs to the Common Room, seeing Neville, Dean, and Seamus sleeping on three of the couches. She made a mental note to herself to thank them later for their consideration and thoughtfulness in staying out of their own room last night. She quickly made her way up the girls' stairwell and into her own room, noting that all of the curtains (even hers) were drawn shut. She shed her robe and placed it in the hamper next to her bed before grabbing a change of clothes and heading for their bathroom. She started the shower before beginning her normal morning ablutions, finally ending with her letting the hot water run over her as she contemplated her actions earlier. What the hell did I just do? she thought to herself. Did I . . . did I just feel Harry up? Her feelings for one Harry James Potter had been varied for a while now; if she had spoken to Harry about it she would have realized they were very similar to the issues he was having, though she had been having them for longer. She too felt the strange mixture of best friend, sibling, and . . . something more; she had ever since their time together before the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Unfortunately, it was that same event that had driven her away from trying to explore that 'something more' in any greater detail; hands covered in undiluted Bubotuber pus after exceedingly slanderous articles had caused her to be sent no shortage of hate mail (which had only stopped after the Prophet started taking jabs at Harry the summer after the tournament) had seemed a pretty strong indicator not to. Granted part of the problem was that the articles had intimated she was playing with Harry's emotions as part of a love triangle, but for her it was better safe than sorry. She cared for Harry deeply, but would rather suppress any further feelings she might have if that was going to be the world's reaction.
That was one of the reasons she had started exploring her feelings for Ron, at least within herself. It made sense considering how much time she spent with both of them that she would hold similar feelings for the two. She felt the same bonds of friendship and 'something more' with Ron, though she had never felt the sibling connection with him. She knew she had loved Ron and that, given a chance, she could very likely have fallen in love with him as well if she hadn't already; having never been in love (as far as she knew) she had no idea where the line between 'love' and 'in love' truly lay. Regardless, that relationship likely would not have caused her or Ron any of the difficulty and heartache that even the imagined one between her and Harry had caused the two of them during Fourth Year. To her logical, reasoned mind it seemed the best solution; she kept both of her boys close while hopefully avoiding as much unpleasantness as possible.
Those thought out, well-reasoned arguments had been shot to hell this year. First Harry had gone and gotten himself all un-scrawnied over the summer (yes she was making up words; that was how discombobulated she was) and had grown into a bit of a hunk. Then, Ron had hooked up with Lavender, not only shooting down any chances she had with him but then Harry had to go and try to be a better friend to her to make up for the deficit despite her giving him grief about that stupid Potions book, making her feel even more affection for him. And now, at the lowest point she had ever felt in her entire life, there was Harry Potter not only being her rock when she needed him the most but expressing himself and his emotions to her in ways that she never thought he would given how closed off he had always seemed over the years. He'd told her that he loved her and that she was his mission in life; what girl wouldn't get weak in the knees at something like that?
Hermione knew she wasn't in a good place. She knew that, emotionally, she was very messed up right now and was likely to make a lot of mistakes and bad decisions. There were a lot of very important, true life-and-death, things that she and Harry needed to do, and soon. None of that stopped her from occasionally finding her hand subconsciously touching her thigh, where not 20 minutes ago had been pressed the erect presence of her best friend. And what had she done? She'd pressed into him tighter, enough to feel his heartbeat against her leg. She needed to get a handle on herself before she did something they would both regret when they made it through to the other side of this nightmare. That didn't stop her hand from reaching down again as a small smirk crossed her lips. She caught herself and schooled her features as she quickly rinsed her hair and turned off the shower.
God damned stupid hormones Hermione thought as she grabbed her towel and finished getting ready for the day.
{-}
Harry and Hermione met in the Common Room and, careful both not to wake Harry's dorm mates and to avoid too much contact given where their thoughts had roamed over the last half hour, headed downstairs. This early on a Sunday the Great Hall was pretty empty; there were only a half dozen other people in the Hall and none of them dared to bother the Gryffindor duo as they came in. The pair took the same seats they had the night before, at the end of the table closest to the doors, and ate slowly as they quietly discussed anything but what was really on their minds. Mostly the conversation involved classes; what work they still needed to complete before class tomorrow (if there was class tomorrow), Hermione talking about an extra credit project she was working on for Ancient Runes, and the like. Soon enough they were done and exited the room as inconspicuously as they could. Hermione pulled Harry into the room that First Years waited in before the Sorting, and Harry passed over the Marauders Map and his father's Invisibility Cloak. "I'll meet you in the Room in less than an hour if all goes well," she said to him before disappearing underneath the Cloak. The only way he knew she'd actually left was that the door was now swinging open on its hinges. A slightly perturbed look crossed Harry's face as he also left the room and made his way up to the Seventh Floor corridor that held the tapestry of dancing trolls.
As he approached the appointed place he started to give more thought about what he should ask the Room for. Last year they had needed a place to practice Defense, and the Room had certainly delivered. Now, however, his requirements seemed more vague while, if anything, his need was more urgent. Harry decided that, in the end, he had some leeway; if he didn't get what he needed the first time around he could always leave the room and word his request differently. That out of the way, he started pacing in front of where the door would appear.
We need a place to wage war. A place to train, plan, and stage battles. We need help on not only going to war, but how to survive it. Harry felt ridiculous; his requests to the Room were so insane that he couldn't imagine it actually responding, thus his surprise was complete when a very solid looking door appeared on the opposite wall. Quickly, Harry opened the door and stepped into the room, blinking his eyes several times to try and figure out exactly what the Room had given him.
The Room was split into three distinct sections. To his left was a large conference table in a dark wood with what looked like very comfortable chairs. Several tall cabinets were against the left wall, and a chalkboard was hanging behind the chair at the head of the table. On the table in front of that same chair was a book of some type. To his right was what looked like an updated version of the training room from last year; in addition to the open area and the bookshelves that likely held tomes about defensive and offensive magic, a few dummies stood against the right-hand wall and there were stripes on the ground at intervals denoting distance to the targets. It reminded Harry vaguely of a Muggle shooting range. It was the center of the room, however, that truly caught his interest.
Against the wall directly opposite him was a huge floor-to-ceiling map of Britain with several areas pulsing in a bright orange scattered here and there upon it. At about head height to the right of the main map was an inset that appeared to denote London. Directly in front of the map was a large table that held a three-dimensional representation of Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds out to probably 100 meters past the wall representing the outer boundary. In the area representing the forest Harry could see a multitude of red and yellow dots moving about, along with one green dot right near the edge of the forest by Hagrid's hut. It reminded Harry of the terrain model battle maps from World War II that he had seen on a television show once.
Harry bypassed the floor map for a moment and went up to examine the map on the wall. As he got closer he could see that it was labeled in a very old-style script, and that some of the orange lights represented places he knew about. Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and St. Mungo's were all lit, as were at least a dozen other places; he found it odd that there was no dot on the London inset where he knew the Ministry building to be, however. Harry scanned the rest of the map and as he reached the bottom left was immediately beset by a surge of emotion as he read the label. "Godric's Hollow?" he whispered. He had never known where the town he would have grown up in, the town where his parents were killed, actually was. It hadn't been until Hermione had made mention of it being in one of the books about him and Voldemort that he had even known the name of the place. It didn't look that far from Ottery St. Catchpole, where the Burrow was.
Seeing the name of his original hometown and thinking about the Burrow made Harry think about the losses associated with both sites. He turned away before the sensations had a chance to overwhelm him and approached the conference table, once again noting the book laid out at the head of the table. Looking down, he saw a badge emblazoned on the front of the rich leather cover that he did not recognize. He pulled out the chair and sat down before noticing that a piece of loose parchment was stuffed into the very front of the book. Taking the parchment, he opened it and began to read.
To whomsoever may find his journal, my greetings and commiserations. My name is Caleb Alonzo Longbottom, and if you are reading this my assumption is that, despite erroneous arguments that this so-called Statute of Secrecy will create an eternal era of peace amongst wizards, Magical Britannia or the world at large is once again in a time of strife and battle. Thusly you have asked the Come and Go Room to help you and have come across my addition to this amazing construct. This room, which I have simply dubbed the War Room, was created by me after a life spent at war for King, Commonwealth, or as a member of the Kriegsmagier. If you wish to read more of this, or about myself, the folio before you is the collected journals of my life, making note of things both professional and private. I ask only that, if any of my family name survive to your day that you make efforts to see that they might also peruse the documents within.
To your right you should see two large armoires. These contain my true contribution to your cause in the form of a Pensieve and assorted memories, musings, and lessons. For over 50 years have I been a war mage, both on my native soil and abroad, and it has been my unfortunate blessing to have learned enough about the art of war and warfare to fill both cabinets. I pray that they may be of use to you; if even one of them helps avert or dampen a travesty like the ones I have seen or allows a single innocent soul to survive when they might otherwise not have then I will consider the effort well worth it.
Though I write this, and leave these items for you, I will confess that it is my deepest wish that this room never be called into existence again. Though it has been my life's pursuit for much of my adulthood, war is truly a terrible institution, and while honor and glory may be found on the battlefield it is, in my humble opinion, a much nobler pursuit to love your woman with all your heart and raise up a strong, moral, and upstanding family with her at your side.
I hope that you will use my teachings well and bring end to whatever conflict has caused you to be here now so that you, those you love, and all worthy souls may be assuaged the horrors of war forever. Until that day,
I am your humble servant,
Caleb Alonzo Longbottom
Order of Merlin, First Class
Lord Marshal of the Kriegsmagier 1665-1677
Headmaster of Hogwarts 1678-
Signed the year of our Lord 1683
Harry put down the note and would be lying to himself if he said he did not feel the emotion of the man who had written it upon the page. Here was a man who, if the evidence could be believed, had spent a life in battle and yet seemed to wish for nothing more than peace. It mirrored much of how Harry felt himself; he longed for the day when there was no more Voldemort, no more Death Eaters, and he could simply find the calm tranquility in life that Caleb had alluded to. Knowing that said tranquility would only come after he had raised his wand in anger, Harry sighed before walking over to the cabinets. Opening the one on the right, he saw the Pensieve situated on a lower shelf, the upper shelves filled with vials containing what he knew to be memories. Looking down toward the Pensieve he saw another set of parchments, and once he pulled them out and perused them he saw that they were a catalog of sorts, showing all of the subjects and sub-headings that Caleb had left. All types of offensive and defensive magic seemed to be listed, some that he knew and some he had never heard of. There were also topics like 'reconnaissance,' 'interrogation,' 'command of large groups,' and several specific memories caught Harry's eye very strongly, the first of which being 'the morality of killing in battle.'
It was a subject that Harry had been struggling with since the Ministry. He and his friends had limited themselves to Stunners, assorted jinxes, and immobilization spells while the Death Eaters had no compunction about using deadly spells in combat. In his head at the time Harry had thought that those acts in and of themselves were what separated the good from the evil, but since then he wondered how different that fight would have gone if he and his friends had used true offensive magic. The Death Eaters would have been much more cautious in their pursuit if they'd felt more in threat for their lives, and he was almost certain that Hermione would not have been injured as she had been had she put Dolohov down hard instead of just Silencing him. He resolved to look at the memories of that type, the morality and ethics questions, before any others unless he found something even more pertinent. Any viewing would have to wait, though, for he was not going to go any further without discussing all of this with Hermione. And so he sat back down at the table with the list of memories and started working on an order of viewing that he would discuss with her when she arrived.
{-}
Hermione, meanwhile, had stealthily made her way down into the dungeons and to one door in particular. It was an understood truth that, with rare exception, the more difficult the potion the more expensive the ingredients to make it were and these two factors combined caused those potions to be worth more. As a result, many NEWT-level potions crafted by students were bottled in their entirety after brewing instead of just a sample flask being submitted and the rest Vanished or otherwise disposed of. The school covered the cost of the more expensive ingredients and then recouped those costs, as well as restocked the other miscellaneous potions stores provided to students, by selling the potions the students had crafted (after the grading sample was tested to make sure it was properly made, of course). There was a room near the Potions classroom where these ingredients and completed potions were stored prior to being sold, which was normally done over the summer break unless there was a need on the market for a particular potion. Right now, there were only two that Hermione was interested in, and they hadn't been crafted by a student.
She approached the door carefully and made sure using the Map that no one was nearby; it was still early for a Sunday so the halls were empty. A quick Specialis Revelio detected no untoward charms or hexes on the door, and a whispered Alohamora unlocked the door while a Silencio prevented any potential issue with squeaky hinges. Shaking her head but otherwise thankful that most of wizardkind remained too blindingly short-sighted and lacking in logical reasoning to protect such treasure with anything more than a simple Locking Charm, she made her way into the room and closed the door behind her.
Once inside she started moving down the shelves, hoping that what she was looking for was still there. Thankfully the completed potions were sorted alphabetically, so she was able to find what she was looking for relatively easily. First came Polyjuice, and she was disturbed to see that there wasn't nearly as much as should have been there from when Slughorn did his presentation at the beginning of the school year. Obviously either some of it had been sold (indicating a desire for it outside the school, which was probably bad) or, more distressing, someone in the school was using it for some purpose; her mind immediately went to Draco. Justifying it to herself that it would be 'safer' than leaving it there, Hermione stuffed the remaining 10 or so one-hour doses of Polyjuice into her schoolbag before moving farther down the shelf row to the 'V' section. There she found and quickly pocketed 2 vials of Veritaserum. After ensuring that the 'F' shelf was empty (she wasn't sure what she would have done if there had been more of the Felix Felicis that Harry had won), she left the room, re-securing it with a weak Colloportus spell like she had found it, and made her way out of the dungeons.
A part of her wanted to see if Luna was up yet and in the Great Hall; after what Neville had told them last night she was curious as to how the blonde Ravenclaw felt about everything. Her desire to get back to Harry overrode the one to gossip, however, so she kept the Cloak on to avoid having to speak to anyone she might encounter and made her way up to the Seventh Floor. Seeing the door across from Barnabas the Barmy and his trolls she opened it and, like Harry, had to blink a few times as she took in the current configuration of the Room of Requirement. She was especially interested in the bookshelves and the potential goldmine of new information they held, at least until she saw Harry at the conference table looking through a sheaf of parchments. She called out to him and he looked up before smiling widely; she couldn't help but smile in return as she approached the table and sat down across from him. "Harry, this is incredible. What made you think all of this up?"
"I didn't," he said simply, before sliding the letter from Caleb Longbottom over to her. She read it quickly before looking over his shoulder at the armoires.
"Well, we'll certainly be learning from a master," she said, and explained her statement when Harry looked at her confused. "Caleb Longbottom is generally considered one of the greatest battle wizards that ever lived. He fought in the Wars of the Three Kingdoms before joining the Kriegsmagier, who were basically the magical equivalent of the medieval monastic orders like the Templars or the Hospitallers, and fighting all across Europe during the middle of the 17th century before becoming Headmaster. He was assassinated in 1688 by wizards loyal to James the Second after he publicly declared his support for William and Mary. He was said to be a master strategist but also an incredibly fair and honorable man." She looked at the cabinets. "There's so much. Do you have any idea where you want to start?"
"Yeah," Harry said quietly. "There was one I was very interested in looking at as soon as possible, but then I saw two others that I think we should see first." He slumped a bit before turning the folio in front of him toward Hermione and pointing at three entries, one on its own and two listed in succession: 'the morality of killing in battle,' 'on the loss of those dearest,' and 'eulogizing the honored dead.' Hermione took a few deep breaths to steady herself after seeing the list, and Harry took her hand and held it tightly. "We can start somewhere else if you want," he said quickly. "I just . . . I thought it would help with . . . with everything."
She stood and walked over to him, kneeling in front of him and putting her hands on his knees before looking up at him. Her eyes were wet but she wasn't crying; Harry took that as a good sign that she was gaining control over her grief. "No, Harry, I think it's perfect. Let's start with those and then maybe . . ." she blushed slightly, "come up with an outline of what you might like to say?" she finished nervously.
Harry stood, bringing her up with him before pulling her into a hug, blasting through any awkwardness that might be left over from when they woke up in favor of showing her his support. He held her there for a long minute, making sure that she understood that he wasn't going to make fun of her for her studious approach. "That sounds good, Hermione. Let's get started, shall we?" With a shaky nod from her, they broke apart before Harry walked over to the cabinet and pulled the Pensieve and the two vials they wanted to look at. Placing the device on the table, he uncorked the vials and poured the silvery memory strands into the basin. Turning toward Hermione, he took her hand and nodded, before both of them stepped up to the Pensieve and, one at a time, dipped their faces into the shimmering liquid.
Forty-five minutes later the two emerged from the basin, and Harry immediately sat down and pulled Hermione into his lap, burying his head in her hair as she wrapped her arms around him and burrowed into his shoulder. Caleb's lessons had been incredibly painful, insightful, and enlightening, and as the two of them drew renewed strength from the other's closeness each started organizing their thoughts on how to use the old war mage's advice to properly both mourn for and honor their departed best friend.
(A/N: Kriegsmagier translated from German literally means 'war mage.'
I decided not to go through Caleb's lessons here, as we'll hear or get a feel for a good chunk of them later on during Harry's eulogy.
Expect the timeline in the story to accelerate slightly after the next chapter, which should include Ron's funeral and its immediate aftermath. I know that we're 20K+ words in now and barely a day has passed, but given what that day held and how Harry and Hermione's actions, thoughts, and feelings during that day will impact the story going forward I felt it important to do a lot of setup. I apologize if it the pacing feels too slow; I'm going to work on that.
As before, thanks very much for the views, reviews, and follows/favorites.)