1. Harmony in the Evening (Hermione)
'Mimbulus Mimbletonia,' Harry mumbled with his head down and hands clenched. The fat lady, who sat had been napping in her frame, rose to attention and looked towards the boy-who-lived.
'I'm sorry dear, could you repeat yourself please,' she asked sweetly. A sweet tone that rivalled that of the pink toad, though vastly different, was enough to bring about further sour thoughts about the Ministry's hand, whom he had already been fuming over.
'Mimbulus Mimbletonia. I'm really not in the mood,' he warned. The scar on the back of his hand reddening and stinging with the tightness of his fist.
'All right, watch your tone...' the painting began to swing open, so Harry backed up, careful not to bump the Lions stacked up behind him down the stairway. Soon the door to the Gryffindor common room was open, and Harry stepped in, gesturing his crowd to follow suit.
Suffice it to say, Harry was angry, angrier than he'd ever felt about the new Headmistress. It wasn't about her denying his claims about the return of the Dark Lord, or refusing to allow him to participate in this year's Quidditch season, or even about the scars on the back of his left hand, that have been written over more than seven times now. No, it was far worse.
'Harry!' A familiar voice exclaimed from the other side of the common room. Her voice brought about untold amounts of relief in his system to challenge the tension and rage that had built up since leaving the detention hall. He felt his hand loosen up as his gaze fell on the bushy haired bookworm who had dropped her quill, narrowly missing the parchment that contained several lines of her potions homework, to run over to him.
As she closed in, her eyes fell on the first year girl who had the end of Harry's sleeve in her grasp and tugging. To which Harry responded with a soft smile before turning back to Hermione.
'Uhm...are they first years?' Hermione guessed, assuming their height and younger faces. Harry nodded to answer her.
'We're they lost?' She asked, continuing her assumptions. It wasn't the first time that first years had gone to Harry Potter when they were lost or scared.
'Umbridge...' was all Harry gave her. It only took her two to three seconds for her eyes to widen and her eyebrows shoot up, then suddenly furrowing.
'That bitch...' she cursed, walking around Harry to stand by the pair of first years that Harry had picked up. One first-year boy and first-year girl, who appeared to be friends due to their closeness and reassuring looks they kept giving each other. They had their robe sleeves pulled, leaving their robes askew, but in the trade to have their scarred hands hidden. It was only up close that she was able to see their tear-stricken faces, their eyes red and dry.
Hermione stood up from her leaning stance to put an arm around the shoulder of the girl, gently pulling to bring her towards the couches by the fireplace of the common room. The boy looked at Harry, at which he nodded and walked over to him to put a hand on his back, making to follow his best friend.
The two fifth years remained at the foot of the couch facing the fire after they sat the two first years down. Then Hermione drew her wand to do her best to tend to the pain on the back of the first year girl's hand.
'Is she the healer of the trio?' The boy asked, somewhat enthusiastic, his eyes filled with wonder as he offered the question to Harry. It wasn't the first time they were called "the trio", but it was the first time he'd ever been asked about the trio.
The mild objectification aside, Hermione looked to Harry to ask with her aggressive chocolate eyes "What Am I, Harry? Hmm?". Harry smiled widely for the first time since returning and answered.
'Sort of,' he continued quickly 'She's a lot more than that. Healing just so happens to be something else she's brilliant at for her year, mainly because I'm awful at taking care of myself and I need a girl like her to save me,' he looked towards her with a cheeky grin, checking to see if he was satisfied with his answer. Thankfully, she was, and she also began blushing with a smile, so she faced away and continued to tend to the girl's hand.
'That's so cool!' The first year boy went, surprising both Harry and Hermione. Harry decided to jump on this, to keep the smile on Hermione's lips.
'I know, she is,' he clapped, figuring out what to talk about 'You know the story of the Basilisk?'
'Yeah! I heard rumours that you fought it!' The boy's enthusiasm peaked, and it also acquired the attention of the first year girl who appeared unfazed up till now.
'That's right. The reason I even managed to survive was entirely thanks to this lady right here,' he said, pointing at his best friend 'and she spent the entire battle in the Hospital wing.'
The storytelling was enough to arouse the attention of a few second years who were on the other couch reading, and the awe was spread.
'Harry...' Hermione moaned, only to get interjected by said individual.
'That's the power of knowledge you guys, and just as one of the greatest Aurors of our time told me "Strength can destroy an enemy, but knowledge can destroy entire armies".'
There were resounding "oohs" and "whoas" around the couches, bringing attention to the crowd that they had garnered. Hermione tried to speak up to shift the credit, as she usually would, but Harry wasn't having any of it. He wanted everyone who looked up to him, who viewed him as a hero, to view her in the same light.
'Because Merlin knows she deserves it,' Harry ended. Hermione had long since finished tending to the two first year's hands.
'That feels much better, thank you, Miss Granger,' the girl nervously thanked standing up.
'Yeah! Thanks, Miss Granger!' The boy chimed, and before she could correct them, the boy dragged the girl off, and he began to talk with similar enthusiasm about something else, probably another one of Harry's ventures.
'Good work, Miss Granger,' Harry teased, his grin never wavering as she slapped the back of his shoulder before taking a seat on the couch in front of them. The crowd dispersed a while ago, leaving the two alone in front of the fireplace. It was growing late, so people were heading to bed, as they should.
Hermione groaned when Harry took the seat next to her, annoyed at the number of times that she was interrupted and stopped from talking overall.
'Why didn't you let me speak...?'
'Because if I'd let you, you would try to "correct" me,' Harry answered, gesturing quotation marks.
'Yeah, exactly.'
'Exactly,' he repeated 'That would have been lying, and in case you forgot,' he raised his left hand to show her the lettered scar 'I will not tell lies,' said Harry, sporting another crooked smile. He found himself wincing as she grabbed his left hand and placed it on face down on her thigh.
She cast a cooling charm on the skin where the words lay and muttered a medical-grade numbing charm. It was just a couple of spells Hermione committed to teaching herself when Harry first returned from detention, fearing that it was the first of many sessions with the blood quill.
'You didn't have to do that,' Hermione commented softly, lifting her wand and putting it at her right on the couch, letting it roll down to her thigh with the angle of the cushion she was sitting on.
'And you didn't have to do this,' raising his painless scarred hand before setting it back down on thigh 'but we wanted to.'
Hermione dropped her own hand on top of his to slide her fingers in between his and give it a squeeze. She looked down at it, taking note how his hand was only slightly bigger than hers, and her fingers were longer than most due to her piano lessons. Which made it feel all the more comfortable when she held his hand gently from the back, avoiding the scarred tissue.
'You're as much a hero in this story as I am, whether you like it or not,' Harry said softly 'and if no one believes that, know that you're a hero to me.'
Hermione's lips parted as if to speak, but shut quickly when there were no words she could find to leave them. She tried to look for them, but her mind, as if for the first time, was in disarray and failing her. It frustrated her, not having a clear thought process, thanks to his calm and sweet words. Finally, that thought was enough to help her assemble a sentence.
'Why are you being so sweet all the sudden?' She asked in a whisper, embarrassed to even ask the question, but blushing beet red anyways.
Harry took a few seconds to act like he had to think it over.
'If everything you do makes my life so much brighter, why shouldn't I do my best to do the same to you?'
Hermione's response was similar to that of a fish as her mouth fell open and shut again as she attempted to respond to his bold and shocking claim.
'See! Like that! Why are you doing that?!' Hermione finally lost all sensibility and exclaimed, nearly squealing. She raised her hand to place it on his forehead 'Are you sick? Do you have a fever? Do you need something from me?'
Harry grabbed her hand from his forehead and pushed himself up onto his feet with his other.
'Come on,' he said, gently tugging her hand to get her to stand.
'Where are we going?' She asked, but he didn't answer.
He guided her out the back door of the common room to the outdoor corridor that skirted the edge of the castle next to the Gryffindor tower. The corridor was lengthy and secluded at several angles, making it a prime location for couples to "fool around".
Wait...Hermione thought in a panic as Harry pulled her along. Is he...
'What are you planning, Harry?' He remained silent, which only further sent her heart racing. Her thoughts wandered to Harry picking her up in his arms and having his way, which she didn't doubt he could do. She believed he wouldn't do that, she trusted him to not. He may not look it, but he was strong. Made a laughingstock of Ron when he stuffed his hand in mashed potatoes in an arm wrestle in the Great Hall.
But strength wasn't what she looked for in a partner. Sure, she grew up being read stories like Snow White and Cinderella and watching theatre of those respective stories. There were times when she would ache for a prince-like boy, but she grew up, understanding that the real world was nothing like a children's fairy tale. They couldn't even spell faerie right.
Several years later, we have people in the school, especially the younger years, viewing Harry Potter as a hero on par with Dumbledore and Merlin. They went so far as to nickname him the Prince of Gryffindor, despite his Parseltongue ability.
Not only that, but he continually demonstrated heroic actions and traits. No one could deny it, Dumbledore kept on handing him bucket-loads of house points because of it, and inconsequentially, the house cup.
But that was just the surface, the hero that was forged by rumours and stories. The one that a certain Weasley fell in love with.
'Wait here,' Harry finally said as he looked over the stone railing. He pulled out his holly wand and aimed it high at the Gryffindor tower.
'Accio.' She recognised the spell, after all, she taught it to him during the Triwizard Tournament. So she waited a few seconds, not knowing what to expect other than a broom.
Which was precisely what arrived as a broom descended and picked out of the air by Harry. The look in his eyes as he walked over to her, Firebolt in hand, was enough for her to understand his evil intentions.
'No.'
'Yes.'
'Harry. No.'
'Hermione, yes.' She stomped her foot in frustration.
'Harry, you know that I hate flying,' she crowed, her displeasure quite apparent.
'I vividly remember you smiling when we were on Buckbeak,' Harry added. Truthfully, she did enjoy it, she was okay with it in Hagrid's class, unlike Malfoy, but it was amazing taking to the skies, with her arms squeezing around Harry in a balance of fear and joy.
'Yeah but it's not the same thing.'
'So you trust Buckbeak more than me?' Harry asked, looking distraught.
'No! I trust you more than anyone,' Hermione confessed incidentally, slamming her hands over her mouth. She could feel the red returning to her cheeks.
'So...' he worded, holding his open hand out for her. Hermione felt like she was backed into a corner, she could no longer push him away, but nonetheless, she trusts him, but beforehand...
'No stunts.'
'No stunts,' he repeated.
'Only for a short while.'
'Just a short while.'
That said, Hermione reached forward and took his hand, letting him pull her to him. With little hassle, the pair boarded the broom, Harry insisting Hermione sit in front of him, so he had better control with the stabilisers.
A few moments later, Harry guided the broom to ascend slowly through the open arch over the railing. Hermione leant forward to grip tightly on the broom mainly as a product of her fear, which was overshadowed by the embrace of the pilot, who reached around her waist to grasp the broom.
She shivered initially, the close and intimate closeness of the two. Realistically, it wasn't any closer than any of the heartfelt hugs that she gave him, but to have his chest to her back, and his breath on the back of her neck was enough to make her tremble slightly, which did not go unnoticed.
'You okay Hermione? Is this too high?' Asked Harry, concerned as he pulled on the broom slowly to bring its already slow movement to a gentle halt. Then leaning over her right shoulder to get a peek at her face.
With a warm breath caressing her exposed neck, she trembled once more as what felt like electricity shot down her spine and her head shook, swinging her hair that had been resting over her left shoulder to block him.
'No, no. It's not that,' she replied as she brought her hand to her neck to cover the tingling skin. Harry brushed this aside and looked ahead, his chin over her shoulder. He brought them to the edge of the lake, where the moonlight was but bright reflection off the darkened lake.
'It's beautiful.'
'Yeah. I'm glad we still have this freedom, despite all that's happening, and to be able to have such a beauty, even through all the darkness,' Harry spoke, his tone serene and gentle.
'Yeah...' Hermione agreed, looking out towards the lake before turning to Harry, who had been gazing, not at the lake, but at her. His emerald green eyes uniquely brightened under the moonlight as he looked into hers. Her breathing began to pick up once more as something was tugging at her heart, at her head that made her feel dizzy and breathless.
She'd never felt this way before, the way her mind would find no way to function correctly and logic to have no place in an interaction. But it felt so relieving in a way she couldn't understand, to have this burning connection that made her back straighten and push towards his chest as she subconsciously yearned for more.
'I want to show you something.'
'Wha..yeah...okay,' she finally broke from her trance, her words falling out of her mouth as she collected herself and tucking a curl over her ear.
He had been bringing her around all evening, or at least it felt like all evening. The "short while" she had asked for was probably far off the table.
Harry guided the broom back towards the castle, and they closed in on the familiar Gryffindor tower, but instead of heading towards the tower, he aimed for the stone roof a few metres from the corridor they initially took off from. The roof was flat, allowing for a smooth landing as Hermione placed her feet flat on the ground, followed by Harry's.
With silence between them, Harry strolled over to the stone wall. Calculatedly, Harry placed his hand flat on the wall, and a door manifested itself, similarly to the way that the Room of Requirement doors would take shape.
'Another secret room? Out here?' Hermione asked, genuinely curious.
'I found it on accident after one of my night flights,' he pushed the gothic door open and gestured Hermione in 'Ladies first.'
'Charming,' she commented with a smile, walking through the doorway. When she entered, she was embraced by the warmth of a fire that had just lit itself and was met with a room similar to the size of her dorm room. It looked as if it were a personal bedroom.
'Did this belong to Godric Gryffindor?' Hermione asked, looking at the Gryffindor flags hung on the wall, but that didn't appear to be the case as there were several blue hues mixed in with the red and gold.
Harry shut the door behind him, placed his broom on a stand and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed as he watched Hermione walk around in wonder. There were dusty tomes in bookshelves, artefacts on the desk. The collective historical value of the items in this room would likely add up to tens of thousands of galleons.
'Well, partly,' he pointed towards a stack of paintings on the floor against the wall, the top of which was a painting of a Hungarian Horntail.
Hermione walked over to pick the painting up and put it at the side to look at the one behind it.
'No way...' the painting was of Godric Gryffindor standing with a beautiful woman in his arms, dressed in a blue dress and sporting a raven's head necklace.
'I honestly thought the rumour was a joke. Who'd have thought...' Harry continued with a laugh.
'This is amazing...Do you know what this means?!'
'It means that my bedroom is going to be raided by you on the daily?' He joked.
'Your bedroom?' It finally clicked, all those times that Ron was wondering where Harry was going at night, thinking he was breaking curfew by roaming the castle under his invisibility cloak, was actually spent here.
'Being the "Prince of Gryffindor" comes with a few perks I like to think,' Harry joked.
'Harry...You can't do that. We have to-'
'What say we share the room and be done with it?' Harry interrupted with a grin, stepping towards her.
'Wha-'
'You're brilliant, definitely as brilliant as Rowena Ravenclaw herself. I say you're entitled to have this room just as much as I am,' he explained, making sense, in a weird way that made Hermione shake her head for even considering agreeing with him.
'I don't get the chance to be selfish every now and then, same as you. How about we stop being heroes for a while and take what we want right here? I think we earned it.' He was right, he more than her, spent more time suffering for his actions, more than rewarded. Points were great for the house, but the toll that it took on him...
'Furthermore, I think you would like to have a little private study,' then turning to gesture at the tall bookshelf 'with this private collection.' To her, he resembled an enthusiastic salesman. What annoyed her the most was that she found herself wanting to take him up on his offer. He was now standing in front of her as if to jokingly intimidate her.
'Take what we want?' She repeated, avoiding his eyes.
'Mhmm...' Harry sounded, curious as to the tone of her voice.
He was too close to her, not for comfort but for control. She found herself spiralling with his words once again. Even if he hadn't meant it in such a way, her mind had been bent in an unusual direction all evening, leaving interpretation in a flexible position.
'How could you know what I want?'
'Because I know you, Hermione,'
She grabbed one of his hands with both of hers and traced the back of his hand with her thumbs.
'Are you sure about that?'
'Because something tells me that it's similar to what I want,' Harry suggested.
'You know...out there...I wasn't talking about the view,' he added, charmingly as he nervously reached for her cheek with the hand that was in hers.
'Are you sure you're not sick?' Hermione asked once more.
'I like to wonder if I might be dreaming rather...'
With those words, she released his hand and reached for his face, placing a hand on either cheek. Her eyes kept on looking at his, switching between his eyes to check if he was serious, if there was any doubt.
There wasn't.
Maybe...just for now...I'll take what I want...Hermione thought, pulling him gently while tip-toeing herself.
Her potions homework could wait in the common room...
