Author's Note (Updated):
As noted before, this is an edited version of the original chapter. Hope you enjoy the small changes I made.
Warnings: Mildly (very mildly) mature situations. Language.
Hermione stood before the mirror in her dimly lit room. It was still early morning, the sun was barely peeking over the rooftops and streaming in her window, so she had the lamp on too. She hated that lamp, it always gave her such a sickly cast to her already pale skin. She stared at her reflection and sighed.
She had been preparing for her morning shower, when she'd stripped down to her plain pair of undergarments after her morning jog, that was before she'd caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective surface. Her scar, still an angry red, stood out across her pale torso. A parting gift from Antonin Dolohov, Death Eater, murderer, rapist and all around terrible human being. It had laid her out for the rest of a battle which had become the pinnacle of a truly terrible year at Hogwarts.
It had been less than stellar ever since leaving the school the year previous really. She'd thoroughly blown the program early on by ignoring her friend's pleas for information that summer, leaving him to deal with the fallout from the Triwizard Tournament in solitude. She had done just as Professor Dumbledore had instructed—despite her own reservations on the matter. What a monumental mistake that had been! She should have ignored the elderly wizard and done what she'd known was right instead of trusting his authority on the matter. Harry had been…less than happy with his supposed friends when next they'd met. And who could blame him?
Their year had just gone downhill from there really. The systematic alienation of her best friend by the greater British Wizarding world had been just the beginning. Someone had actually gone so far as to arrange an attempt on his life. She remembered the horror she had felt when she'd heard about that. Then when he defended himself, they made every effort to see his wand snapped and cast from the Wizarding World for it. She had feared she'd lost him then, that she was going to lose her friend forever. Thankfully he'd managed to avoid that pitfall; one of Dumbledore's few timely interventions. She truly despised the wizarding media for the way they had painted her friend as the villain in all this. Apparently The Daily Prophet had never heard of the concept of an impartial press. It had caused more than a few rows in the common room once they returned to school. She, Ron and Neville had been Harry's staunchest defenders.
To make matters worse upon returning to Hogwarts they had all been afflicted, not only with the worst Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher to date, but by Harry's recurring nightmares. Umbridge was by far the worst specimen of a Wizarding politician she'd ever encountered or even heard of. The witch had even gone so far as to torture her students with a Blood Quill when she wasn't busy being utterly ineffectual as a teacher. Hermione hadn't been sure which she'd found more offensive at the time. The witch had even come complete with her own squad of corrupt little goons. Made up of some of Hermione's least favourite students, The Inquisitorial Squad. She'd gotten a taste of what Malfoy would be like with real power, and it had frightened her.
This state of affairs eventually culminated in Harry being lured by his greatest enemy to a top secret department in the house of the British Wizarding nation's government. She'd tried to warn him, but looking back she realized she'd pressed too hard, and dismissed his concerns too quickly. Instead she should have taken the time to reason with him further, a regret she carried heavily on her conscience. It was there Harry had witnessed his godfather die, and she herself had nearly died from a curse launched by the Dark Lord's chief duelist. A painful reminder of their mortality. If she had learned one thing this year it was this: those in power were just as fallible and corrupt as any other person on the face of the planet.
They could miscalculate and make mistakes just like anyone else. And they could be just as evil and corrupt as anyone else as well, she'd realized one didn't need to be good to gain authority. For a girl who had always looked up to authority figures for protection and as role models, it was a bitter pill to swallow. Ultimately she had been forced to…reexamine some of those she felt were deserving of her trust. The most jarring of these failures was Dumbledore, whom she, along with many others had come to see as an unassailable defender of the light. But the way he'd managed Harry's welfare that year had been...less than awe inspiring to say the least.
She felt at the slightly raised skin of the curse mark with her finger. It trailed from just over her left shoulder and down, diagonally across her chest, cutting under her bra along the edge of one of her breasts and then down to her hip. It was huge, and in her opinion more than a little unsightly. A constant reminder, of all the hard lessons of the year, that would likely never completely fade. The world was making less and less sense as time went on.
"Guess that's it for bikinis," she grumbled wearily. Not that she really liked wearing them in the first place, she didn't feel anywhere near attractive enough to really pull it off. Regardless, she doubted she'd heal enough that it was even an option any time in the near future. Thankfully, a tapping came at the window startling her from her morose musings.
Hermione turned and spotted a familiar Snowy Owl sitting on the ledge outside her window. She couldn't help it, she smiled a touch at seeing the familiar bird. "Why hello there Hedwig, just let me get the window," she said, hauling the pane upwards before lowering it behind the bird as she hopped through to stand beside Crookshanks who was curled up on her comforter.
"So Harry's doing well enough to send letters now is he?" Mostly she spoke to the bird because Harry did. She couldn't communicate with her own familiar as well as Harry did with that Owl. She didn't understand it; how could he be nearly telepathic with a bird and yet be utterly clueless when it came to the opposite gender?
She untied the letter from the Owl and sat at the small desk below the mirror, before opening it and unfolding it so she could read. One thing that could be said for muggle pens of any kind was their writing was much more legible than that produced by Wizarding Quills.
Dear Hermione:
Sorry to bother you, but I'm afraid I need a favour or two. They're…rather big ones I'm afraid, and you're likely not going to enjoy them, but it's important, I swear. First I need you to keep the contents of this letter to yourself. Which I'm afraid means, no not even Dumbledore may hear of this. Perhaps especially not Dumbledore. I'm gonna have to explain a bit I suppose, you wouldn't be satisfied if I didn't give a good reason. Things have come to the point where I cannot in, good conscience, continue as I have thus far. Just taking the world as it came at me, and following the lead of an old man who has refused to tell me things critical to my survival, have ultimately led to disaster after disaster. I nearly lost you in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione. I was arrogant and reckless yes, but maybe if I had known the secrets he had been keeping I would've been able to think more clearly. I may have nearly lost you, but I did lose Sirius.
He was so important to me, Hermione, and I can't just ignore what led to it. If I had lost you too...well it doesn't really bear thinking upon. As it is you'll have a scar for the rest of your life because of my mistakes.
Long story short? I'm making some changes, I'm leaving, whether or not this just means the Dursley's or the UK in general, I don't know, but either way, I'm not returning to Hogwarts next year. I just want you to know that NO I am not running away, I couldn't do that to you guys! But I am searching, I guess you could say, I need to find a way to beat Voldemort. And seeing as Dumbledore won't show me the way without ridiculous games, I'll find it myself. Which brings me to my second request.
I need to move fast and light if I'm to avoid Dumbledore and Voldemort both, I think. So I need you to take care of Hedwig for me. Who else could I possibly trust with something as important to me as her?
Honestly, I know you're probably not happy with me right now, I can't blame you. Well I guess I'll just have to see what you have to say.
Fondest Wishes. Harry.
P.S It occurs to me I might as well include some 'last words' to you just in case you know? So here it goes. You don't give yourself enough credit, Hermione. Please stop listening to Ron when he decides to have a go at you. Honestly what does the idiot know about women? He's even worse than me! Hermione, there's someone out there worthy of a wonderful witch like you, I'm certain. Although, I admit, I have yet to meet such a person, and I hope you find them. My final piece of advice to you is this: enjoy yourself a little, you spend too much time being serious and working your life away. I know your future career is important but what will it matter if you're utterly miserable because you didn't stop to enjoy yourself?
Hermione felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Harry had asked her for her help, but had basically informed her that this might be goodbye as well. He had lost too much she realized, too much to allow himself to just trust in Dumbledore's plans any further. And so he was removing himself from them, and by extension from her life as well.
She felt the beginnings of tears prickle in her eyes and wiped at them irritably. Harry had been an essential part of her life for so many years now, to lose him was intolerable.
And yet at the same time she felt a small measure of pleasure at the thought, that of all the people he could have contacted, he had written to her. Despite feeling the need to ask if he could trust her, he already felt that he could, despite everything.
It was shocking really, that Harry would feel so…forsaken, that he would abandon the closest thing to a home he had ever had. It spoke to the level of suffering he had endured. The boy who had fought a troll, a possessed professor, a basilisk, dementors, an accused murderer, a traitor, and had won a tournament which was just inches from being a blood sport, before fighting the most evil Dark Wizard on the planet, before being turned on by his ministry and to some degree his friends, had finally hit his limit. This was the end she realized. Harry had finally understood, just as she had, that the adults in his life apparently had no more idea of what was going on than the children. They just hid it better.
There was a loud clearing of a throat and she gave a start spinning towards the door. Her mother, Emma Granger stood in the doorway looking at her with concern. "Hey hun, are you okay? Your eyes are looking red, have you been crying?" she asked gently.
Hermione, wiped at the moisture absently and shook her head, not so much in disagreement of anything her mother had said, than from ruefulness. She picked up the letter and folded it as casually as she could manage. "Yeah—mum, I'm fine. Just got some bad news from a friend."
Her mother peered at her. "Oh dear. Anything I need to know?"
Hermione considered that and just shrugged. "No, not really. My friend might need my help for a while though." Something about that appeared to catch her mother's attention.
Her mother pointed to her and her voice was a touch harsher, "This wouldn't happen to be the same friend who got you into whatever gave you that scar?" She asked. She'd noticed the scar pretty early on in Hermione's stay. It was just not feasible to try and hide it.
Still Hermione didn't appreciate the accusatory tone of the question. "It's not Harry's fault I got the scar mum," she replied a touch sharply.
"Oh, then whose is it?" Emma asked challengingly, crossing her arms over her chest.
Hermione growled a bit under her breath. "I chose to follow mum, he didn't force me to, in fact he asked me not to come along. I got this when I wasn't paying as much attention when the…when it started."
Apparently her answer was less than satisfactory. "You tell us less and less each year about your schooling, and each year you come back with more scrapes and scars. Your father and I are concerned."
Hermione couldn't help but bark a laugh at that, it sounded bitter even to her ears. "It's far too late for me to back out now mum. You know there's no going back."
Emma didn't like the sound of that. "How so?"
"Well for one thing, because the Wizarding world is run by a pack of bigoted anthropocentric misogynists, who would, just because I'm a female muggleborn, wipe my mind blanker than a newborns if I tried to leave. Second, because I'm Harry's friend, his enemies would happily hunt me down to torture and kill me. Third, again because I'm a muggleborn, those same enemies would torture and kill me whether I was his friend or not. That's if I'm lucky."
"I don't understand." Her mother murmured, looking worried now. "I really don't, I don't see how I can when you refuse to explain it to me."
Hermione sighed, "It's better you don't understand in some ways mum, being a muggle with too much knowledge rattling around in your head would paint an even larger target on you," Hermione admitted tiredly.
"You can't tell us anything? Anything at all to help us understand all this?" Emma pleaded.
Hermione huffed another sigh, more from exhaustion than from exasperation this time. She considered what she might be able to explain, "The short answer, Mum, is that we are at war. A Dark Lord has declared war on Wizarding Britain; his whole platform is purifying the Wizarding race of muggleborns and one day ruling over the muggles like some sort of twisted emperor. Harry has the misfortune of being stuck in the middle of this conflict, no matter what he does. And before you ask, yes, I'm going to support him regardless."
Her mother stared at her shrewdly, worrying her lip as she clearly mulled over what she had said. "Fine, maybe you can explain that a little more over breakfast. It'll be ready in a few minutes." Emma sighed, shaking her head. "Honest to God, Hermione, I don't know where to even begin with all that." She turned and exited closing the door behind her.
Hermione just stared at the door for a time before sighing and pulling a pad of paper across the desk to write a letter back to Harry. Her reply was admittedly a bit sharp in its tone, but she could mostly put that down to her conversation with her mother. She got up and tied the letter to Hedwig's leg and let the bird out the window, before closing it behind the snowy owl. She honestly wondered how the neighbours never seemed to notice an owl entering their house on occasion.
She padded back to the middle of the room and glanced at herself in the mirror. She shook her head, she'd dawdled enough, she needed that shower. She reached up and undid her bra throwing it carelessly on her bed, before bending down and pushing down her knickers. She then padded into the en suite bathroom and closed the door. She had a heck of a day to get prepared for if she were any judge.
A few minutes later, and many miles away, Harry—the cause of much of Hermione's stress in one form or another—hurried out of Gringotts onto the still mostly empty cobbled street of Diagon Alley. He had gotten everything he needed from the bank. Not that it was easy. The Goblins had provided him with a Credit and Debit card arrangement, but had spent most of the time implying that he was the lowest form of life form for requiring them to do so—it wasn't that hard when they were so well built for sneering. Still business was business, as far as they were concerned, so he got what he needed out of them eventually. He had also managed to procure a list of his family's assets—more extensive than he'd realized—which he could peruse at his leisure at a later time. For now, he had other matters to attend to. He was fortunate that he'd already eaten so he could at least shave off a little time out in the open that way. But he still needed some supplies, mostly in the form of useful books.
It did strike him as novel as he entered Flourish and Blott's, Hermione's favourite store, that he was for the first time getting books that were not mandated by his coursework and exams, but were for his own edification.
He had spent most of the trip to Diagon—and during his time waiting on the Goblins to cooperate—planning out what he most needed to study most. First thing he had come up with was that, despite his efforts with the DA, and despite the books Sirius and Remus had sent him, his education in Defence Against the Dark Arts had suffered under that toady bint, Dolores Umbridge. He therefore made a point to pick out a few books on that topic which might be useful, including some supplemental works on magical dueling. The second and more important topic he thought of was Occlumency.
Harry's own education in that area had been sadly lacking thanks to Snape's rampage and pillage approach to "teaching" it. It had, he believed, left him wide open both to Voldemort's false vision, and the attempted possession at the Ministry. There was no way in hell he was letting that happen again.
Despite this resolution on his part Harry couldn't help but wonder if Occlumency even applied against Voldemort, who didn't seem to be accessing his mind from without in the way of regular Legilimency, but from within somehow. Harry had figured out some time ago that he and Voldemort were linked in some way. But the nature of the…'connection' was nebulous to him and nobody had bothered to explain how it might work. What a shock.
He couldn't dwell on his doubts now though, couldn't afford to let them hobble him. Occlumency was the only method he was currently aware of that might help protect him from such an attack in the future, so that's what he would focus on.
Harry managed to find a few works on the subject at the back of the store and was soon back outside, his new purchases in a shrunken bag in his pocket. He truly had intended that to be it for that day, and had begun making his way to the Leaky Cauldron when a familiar shop caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.
Ollivander's. The wand maker's shop, and by reputation, the best wand maker in Britain. Although to be fair, Harry hadn't heard of any other British wand-makers so that reputation might be a bit meaningless. During his battle at the Department of Mysteries, he and his allies had been disarmed or otherwise forced into an impasse on several occasions. Neville had even been unarmed for the rest of the fight after his own wand was destroyed. He himself wondered about the true usefulness of his own wand that locked up whenever it encountered Voldemort's. He paused, as he reflected on the nature of Ollivander himself. An eccentric type, but not dangerous by any stretch, so far as he could tell. He briefly wondered if the man would contact Dumbledore about him if he ventured in there. Nothing to that point had really convinced him of such a thing. So perhaps it would be worth the risk?
He wandered over to the shop's dim and somewhat grimy door and pushed it open, wincing slightly at the tinkling of the bell.
Garrick Ollivander, a stooped, elderly man of indeterminate age was currently standing at the counter fiddling with a bit of wood. A bit of wood which snapped audibly, causing the man to mutter a couple curses before setting the pieces down on the counter and looking up. He apparently took a moment to focus his eyes on the young man approaching, but once he did his eyes lit up. "Ah, Mr Potter! Eleven inch holly wand with a phoenix feather core. Still serving you well I presume?"
This was the man's typical greeting, so far as Harry knew, so he took it in stride. "Of course" he agreed.
"Excellent, now then what can I do for you today?" The elderly gentleman asked brightly.
Harry wondered how to approach the topic, Ollivander was touchy about his wands from what he could tell. "I assume you heard about the fight at the Ministry?"
Ollivander nodded. "Ah yes, indeed I have. Terrible, just terrible that. I was sorry to hear about Mister Black. I understand you were close?" Harry wondered at who had been telling tales, but he just nodded. No point denying it now.
"Thank you. In regards to that, I found that people getting disarmed was a rather large problem for our side during the fighting. I was wondering if you could help me find a backup wand, just in case I should ever lose mine." He asked glancing about.
The man just smiled a bit, "Well of course I can. Now then, would you prefer to do another off the shelf search, or now that you know how your magic works a bit better perhaps you'd like a custom build?"
Harry just blinked confusedly at him for a moment. "You do custom wands?"
Ollivander feigned offence, reminding Harry briefly of Professor McGonagall when one arrived late to class. "Of course Mister Potter, I'm a wand maker after all. While there is always a good chance that you'll find the right wand for you among the stacks, a custom wand is generally a choice I prefer to reserve for those who have matured somewhat. Can't have children trying to make a 'cool' wand which doesn't end up doing them any good now can I? No, better that they find one that's already made and works." He explained seriously. He paused for a second and grinned. "Though I must say your current wand is a fantastic match. I would be hard pressed to make a custom suit you any better than that."
Harry had to admit the thought was intriguing. "How much will it cost?"
"Low end? Two galleons above that of an off the shelf job. A little more expensive for higher end materials, not more than two dozen or so galleons more for a ridiculously luxurious piece."
Harry nodded. "Sounds fair. You take cards?" he asked pulling out his new acquisition from Gringotts. The old man nodded agreeably. "Okay then, how do we do this?"
Ollivander rubbed his palms together clearly anticipatory. "First things first we need to know your needs for the wand. Since we were talking about it already I assume you want a fighting wand?"
Harry nodded.
"Good, then we'll start you with woods that are either durable or very flexible. Can't have a combat wand breaking in a fight now can we?" He asked rhetorically bustling off for a box which he hauled up onto the counter.
The box was filled with dowels of wood, each tagged with the type of tree. "Good, now we'll start you off with this lot and go from there. Grab a dowel, doesn't matter which one to start with, and then focus on your magic. Just like you would for learning a basic spell like lumos. These are from wand trees so they'll work where a normal stick wouldn't."
Harry did as instructed and just about dropped the dowel when it cracked right down the middle. He set it down on the counter delicately. Ollivander sucked at his teeth as he considered. "Hmm, too much 'juice' for this lot then," He picked a selection out of the pile and put them off to the side. "The core will take the brunt of the magic of course, but the wood around it has to deal with the overflow, if just a little magic like that splits it, you need something more durable than these ones." he explained.
Over the next few minutes Harry tried more dowels, and broke most of them. Until only a final selection of three remained. African Blackwood, Black Ironwood, or Jarrah Wood. Ollivander stopped him here. "Now I want you to push as much magic into these three as you can at once and we'll see what happens."
Harry did as instructed, albeit a touch hesitantly at first, until Ollivander murmured encouragement. The Blackwood managed ten seconds of extended input before it shattered in his hands. The Black Ironwood managed a similar period of time before it ignited into flames. The Jarrah wood had the odd reaction of suddenly turning flaccid and floppy prompting Harry to drop it.
Ollivander appeared confused by these reactions more than anything. "Huh, well the African Blackwood is probably the best fit, better a shatter, than bursting into flame or doing whatever the Jarrah Wood did. It's…strange, I've never seen those woods burn out so fast before." He shrugged. "African Blackwood it is then. Now then how about metals for a fighting grip?" He asked before wandering off in search of just such materials. When he returned he paused a moment, "Right, how much are you willing to spend on this? We can stick with the two galleon extras or we can go into the high end stuff for a bit more?"
Harry shrugged. "As much as needed, I need to be able to rely on it." This answer seemed to brighten the man's mood considerably.
The man placed a number of small ingots on the counter before looking at Harry again. "Now then, would you be willing to spare a drop of blood on each ingot. No more than what Gringotts requires for the identification tests."
Harry had no problem with such a small thing so, after a numbing spell and a prick or two from an instrument provided by Ollivander he dripped a bit of blood onto the ingots. Ollivander then proceeded to have him push a bit of magic into the ingot via the blood and observed the results.
Sometimes the blood boiled, filling the air with a strange metallic tang, sometimes it merely changed colours, and yet others the blood droplets began fizzling or hopping in place on the metal in question.
Ollivander carefully cleaned everything off and put forward two finalists. "These two are Silver and Molybdenum, please focus as much magic into each ingot as you can."
The silver responded to this by beginning a low resonant hum while the 'Moly-be-damned'—as miners sometimes called it—began an obnoxious buzzing. "Right silver it is then." the old shop keeper said nodding in satisfaction.
He brought out a box of cores a few minutes later. Harry stopped him for a question. "Shouldn't a Phoenix Feather be best?" He asked curiously, his current had worked so well thus far for him.
Ollivander shrugged. "Not necessarily. You see, the cores are imbued with a bit of the…personality of the creature which produced it. You can never tell how a particular core is going to take to a person. What I've got here today are samples of Dragon heartstring, Unicorn Hair or Horn, Phoenix Feather, Merperson Hair and Thestral Hair." He explained holding up some of the samples. "Now, I have a feeling about which one of these will be most suited to you, would you indulge me for a moment?" He requested.
Harry agreed and was presented with what looked like a small bundle of muscle tissue, which began to writhe on the palm of his hand as he channeled magic into it. He looked to Ollivander but found a satisfied look on the man's face. "Yes that's about perfect I think. In case you are curious, this heart string was extracted during the medical treatment of that Horntail you flew circles around a couple years back. You see, while the other core materials generally find their best matches at the creatures whim or that of the material. The best matches achieved with Dragon Heartstrings are those between a witch or wizard and a Dragon they have conquered. A fascinating area of study into a subject we don't truly understand. But it appears that in some way the recognition of dominance is critical in this manner of exchange," he explained and Harry handed him back the muscle fibres. "Now then, would you like to wait around a while while I work on your wand or would you like it mailed to you?"
Considering his current situation Harry's decision was simple. "I'll wait around, how long will it take?" He asked.
Ollivander thought about that. "Probably an hour or so." Harry nodded agreement. "Excellent, oh and it looks like you may have just the thing to keep you occupied, an owl appears to be looking for you." He noted nodding to the window. Hedwig was waiting patiently on the sill.
"How'd you know she's with me?" Harry asked surprised.
Ollivander just chuckled. "All my mail comes into the rookery upstairs, therefore that owl is here for someone else." Harry chuckled ruefully in understanding. "Now hurry along young Mister Potter, I have work to do."
Harry stepped out into the morning sun and collected Hedwig from her perch before sitting them down on a bench in a relatively secluded section of the alley. It was starting to fill up with shoppers, and this extended stay of his would likely garner too much attention if he was out in the open.
He was more than a little relieved to see the letter attached to the owl's leg. "Hey there girl, so I guess she decided to keep it to herself after all eh?" He murmured to the owl. Hedwig barked quietly and started preening Harry's hair gently.
He opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.
Harry:
Of course you can trust me! It's a bit insulting that you even have to ask. But you better believe we are going to talk about this. I hope you know what you are doing. Now then to business, I believe you mentioned you might need my help. What can I do for you?
-Hermione
Harry winced a little, obviously she wasn't happy with him. He could practically taste the sarcasm on that last sentence. He glanced at Hedwig who was watching him expectantly. "Well what do you think, should I give her time to cool off or should I ask her to meet today?" He wondered. The owl tilted her head sharply, shooting him a look that clearly said, What? Are you defective? and he chuckled. "Today it is then."
He pulled out a pen and some paper and started writing using the back of one of his books. He'd have to make it good whatever he was going to say to her today.
Hermione, who had been studying, sitting 'indian style' on the warm comforter of her bed, was startled for the second time that day by the sound of rapping at the window. Sure enough it was Harry's ever faithful owl once again waiting patiently when she got up to see what it was. It was not lost on her however that the speed of Harry's response suggested he was not so terribly far away. Probably somewhere in the Greater London Area at least. Which...really wasn't that small a space when she thought about it.
She allowed the bird into her room and untied the letter from her leg and passing her a bit of bacon she had saved from breakfast.
Breakfast, what a…pleasant conversation that had been. Her parents had been understandably equal parts, angry, disgusted, confused and terrified by some of the things she had said and hinted at. It was only her warning about what would happen to them all if she was pulled from Hogwarts that kept her parents from doing so right there and then. Which was precisely why she had not told them up to this point.
She unfolded the letter and read the short reply.
Hermione
If you feel like it, meet me at the Tower of London by the Ravens at noon today and I'll gladly answer whatever questions you have.
-Harry
The cloak and dagger tone of the note was not comforting, but his willingness to accept her assurances that she was trustworthy was. She didn't like this strange game her friend had started to play, but she didn't see any choice but to play along for the time being. His reply hadn't been open to a lot of different interpretations. However, he was at least offering answers, which was something he was not always good about.
She nodded to Hedwig. "You want to stay here, or fly around a bit while I'm out meeting Harry?" The owl looked to the window before bobbing her head.
"Out flying it is then. Try not to wander too far," Hermione opened the window and allowed the bird out before padding with her books to the shelf and replacing them. She then grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder before making her way down stairs. Again pausing as she pulled on her shoes to explain to her parents. "I'm going out for a bit, I'll see you later."
Her mother was apparently observant or shrewd enough to guess her purpose from her attitude. "Going out to help your friend?"
Hermione tried to gauge her mother's mood but she came up empty. "Just to talk actually, but yes."
Her parents frowned at each other. "Perhaps we should come with you, just in case?" Her father suggested.
She shook her head. "No, I believe Harry wants this private so it's better if it's just me, and besides…" She stood up from tying her shoe. "Even if there were trouble, what would you be able to do about it?" Her parents were clearly not pleased with this logic, but neither were they able to refute it. What could Dan or Emma Granger, dentists do against wizards who could 'teleport' or shoot lightning from a stick? "Now, I'll see you later, hopefully in time for dinner, but if not, don't wait up."
With that she exited her house and made her way out onto the sidewalk. She knew she wasn't precisely being fair to her parents. She knew they meant well, and appreciated that they cared for her. But really, right this moment, she didn't have either the time or patience to argue with them about it all. Not when she was on a deadline!
It was a relatively short walk to the nearest tube station. She could be thankful for one thing at least. In the middle of the day like this, the London Tube system was safe, fast and reliable, she could be to the tower in time to meet Harry without any concerns. Well… no more concerns than she already had.
Harry stood, leaning lightly against a tree in the central courtyard space of the Tower of London fortress, doing his darndest to remain utterly unremarkable to any who might pass. Thankfully this was a relatively easy task in a crowded London tourist attraction. To many who ventured here he'd just be another dishevelled teenager loitering in an open space. Although they might wonder why he'd spent the money to do so here of all places.
His attempts to remain unnoticed must have been fairly successful, because not even Hermione saw him at first when she'd eventually shown up. She looked good, hard not to when not wearing Hogwarts robes for a change he supposed, but she looked healthier, if not necessarily happier than the last time he'd seen her. Of course, the last time he'd seen her, she hadn't been long out of the infirmary after receiving that curse, so his judgment was far from impartial.
She paused, casting her eyes about before visibly sighing and setting herself down on one of the benches beside the Raven's field. Holy mother, those are some big birds, he thought to himself as he approached her bench cautiously. He leaned casually on the back of the seat next to her, and she gave a start. "Thanks for showing up Hermione. I know it was sort of last minute," he greeted, smiling briefly at her before turning his attention back to the birds. A 'beef eater' was running about trying to corral one back to its pen without much success.
He heard her blow out an explosive breath. "Honestly, Harry, it's not like you gave me much choice. If I wanted to speak with you it had to be here today remember?" She asked exasperatedly.
"Would you really have turned me down if I had given you more time?" He asked, feigning curiosity, he knew perfectly well what the answer was.
Clearly she did too. "No, I wouldn't have and you know it."
"Then it's just like I thought, and there was no point to beating around the bush was there?" he pointed out calmly. "Now then, do you want to talk here, or do you feel like taking a stroll?"
She considered that pursing her lips. "You sure that's wise? I didn't think you'd want to risk being overheard."
He shrugged casually. "In a place like this? I figure anything we say will either be ignored or written off as nonsensical babbling, the only people around here who'll hear us are muggles." He noted, and she nodded conceding his point. "Come on then, we'll visit the armoury up there in White Tower, I feel like looking at some swords today," he teased.
She smirked, "Don't you get enough suits of armour and such at Hogwarts?"
He smiled crookedly at her as he helped her to her feet. "Well yeah, but you've seen those things, they're mostly early renaissance era stuff. I hear they've got a suit of Samurai armour here." He pointed out.
She rolled her eyes, but it was mostly in good temper. "Fine, lead the way."
They walked in silence for a goodly time, just admiring the scenery or looking at the displays within the museum. Eventually they paused in front of a series of armoured suits and Harry felt compelled to comment. "Seems Henry the Eighth got to be shaped like some of my relatives by the end of it eh?" He noted, nodding to a practically spherical suit at the end.
Hermione just shook her head and sighed. "You really want to spend our time together talking about that?"
He shrugged, and grimaced slightly. "Not really, no. But I figured I had to start somewhere."
She stared hard at him for a moment. "Harry, why are you doing this?" She asked tightly, "Why are you leaving—" She had to clear her throat as it tightened, choking off what she'd been about to say. Why are you leaving me?
Harry sighed, but he apparently had missed the internal dialogue. "Dumbledore's made too many mistakes concerning me. And I've made the mistake of allowing it to continue unchallenged. Here, I wrote a short list of things that concerned me, looking back, while I waited on you." He said and pulled a sheaf of paper from his bag and handed it to her.
Short may not have been the word for it. Hermione reflected as she examined what was a thoughtful and comprehensive list of Dumbledore's known failings up to this point regarding not just Harry, but the school as a whole. The list went on for a few pages, he'd even attached notes with questions and hypotheses to some of them. It was surprisingly well-written for Harry, especially given that Hermione usually had to proof-read his assignments. And Hermione being who she was read the whole of it.
She came to the end close to five minutes later, and handed it back before sighing wearily, and rubbing her forehead irritably. "It's kind of hard to argue against you running, when you lay it all out like that isn't it," she asked as they paused in a small alcove by one of the windows.
He glowered slightly, "Like I said, it's not running, not really. 'I'm searching', I'm just going to be doing it without Dumbledore. I wouldn't have to leave at all if I knew he wouldn't interfere. Force me back into my cage." He looked at his feet and growled a little. "That and I have a feeling 'running' would be not only cowardly but futile as well in the long run."
That caught her attention and she looked up at him again. "How so?"
He paused considering her, his eyes darting around her face as if memorizing it. She didn't know it but in a way he was. He might not see her again, he realized. Possibly never again if he followed through on his plan. Eventually he blew out a breath and looked at the low ceiling above them. "I heard the prophecy Hermione,"
She blinked in confusion, before sitting up as his words sunk in. "What, how? I thought it was destroyed?"
He nodded slowly. "Sure it was, but Dumbledore knew what was in it all along, and told me himself for a change." He noted sourly.
She peered closely at his clearly strained features. "What did it say?"
"Long or short version?" He asked, looking out the window.
"There's more than one?" She asked confused.
Harry shook his head. "No, I meant, do you want me to summarize or do you want the full thing right this minute?"
She decided getting to the point was important. "Summarize for me, we can go into the details later."
He smiled sadly at her. "Basically? It says that it has to be me who kills Voldemort. No one else can do it for me. It's either him or me, kill or be killed." He noted her stunned expression. "And, as if that wasn't bad enough…It's possible, judging by the wording that it might mean that I must die before someone else can finish the job after I'm gone."
She felt nothing but horror at this revelation, but Harry just smiled a gentle, if sad, smile at her. Eventually she did what her mind had been screaming at her to do for the last few minutes and lunged forward hugging him tightly. There is no bloody way that wanker is taking my Harry from me! She snarled to herself, I won't allow it, it's unacceptable, that will not be his fate!
She looked up at him seriously, before once again resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't care what any prophecy says Harry, you are not dying on me you understand," She demanded.
He chuckled and rubbed her back, in a slow circular motion which was fairly soothing "Yeah I'm not too fond of that interpretation either. But it's pretty clear that I will have to face him myself, but I also know that following Dumbledore will in all likelihood see me dead and buried before I get very far. I sometimes wonder if that's been the plan all along…"
She backed off him a bit, "Harry you can't seriously be intending to take on V-Voldemort alone?" She cursed the slight stutter at saying his name.
Harry just shrugged again, "I don't see an alternative really. I can't really trust Dumbledore, the Order all follow his lead, and anyone in the same postal code is likely to get killed off."
She shook her head in denial. "Harry, you can't possibly learn everything you need to know to beat him on your own!"
"I can get books, and despite what the people around here would have you believe, there really are other magical folks outside Britain." He smirked a bit, "I'm betting there's someone out there who can help me learn what I need for this."
I can't let him do this alone, that's suicide, no matter how he pretends it isn't! He doesn't know who he can trust out there, not really. Anyone could be an agent for Voldemort. No, I won't let him go alone. She glared up at him and before leaning forward and shoving him. He took a step back looking surprised. "You don't have to go looking out there by yourself. Don't believe for a second that I'm letting you face this alone, Harry! I'm coming with you."
He shook his head, and frowned. "Hermione, that's not what I meant, I can't possibly ask you to—"
She cut him off sharply. "You're not asking. I'm volunteering," she explained carefully, as if talking to a slow child, determination ringing in her voice.
Harry was unhappy, "Yeah, to give up everything, to go on the run with some schlub who's pissed off one too many people?"
She didn't back down. "To go on the run with my best friend, who needs me," she challenged.
He was still shaking his head. "Hermione, you'd be giving up your home, your education, possibly even your future. It wouldn't be right…"
She scoffed. "And if I stay behind I may be giving up all those things and more anyways! Do you think Voldemort and his Death Eaters will be merciful if they capture me alive?"
Harry considered her as they started walking again. He was trying hard not to think about what would happen to Hermione if she were ever captured. It didn't bear thinking about… "Have you sent a letter to Ron?" She asked eventually.
Harry shook his head, as they came to a stop in front of a case with some particularly exotic looking equipment in it. "No, we both know Ron can't keep a secret very well, and even if he could he'd grow to resent having to give up his home and family. It could be years, maybe even longer before I'm ready to face Voldemort." He gave her a significant look.
She wished she could argue with him. "You're not wrong. But don't you think he'll resent being left behind?"
He chuckled darkly. "He's going to be resentful either way as I see it. Better resentful somewhere where he won't cause trouble. That's another reason I can't and won't ask you to come with me, Hermione."
She furrowed her brow in confusion, "You think Ron will need me?"
Harry just barked a laugh at that, "No, Ron will manage either way I'm sure. He always does. Hermione, you have a future, an amazing one is ahead of you I'm certain. I can see it, and so can anyone else who's got half a brain." He shook his head. "I can stand Ron resenting me for leaving him behind. What I couldn't stand would be you resenting me for destroying everything you worked so hard for."
She pulled him aside and looked into his eyes, willing him to understand. "Harry, do you remember what I said were the most important things in life before you stepped through those flames in first year?"
He growled, a touch exasperated. He knew where she was going with this. "Bravery and Friendship."
I never did say everything I meant to say that night. I was right not to, at eleven I had no idea of the real meaning in what I was saying, not really. Now I do, and I'd say it all but we don't get do overs, She reflected sadly. "How brave would I be if I let you go off alone? How brave would I be if I hid and let you suffer for my future? What kind of friend would I be if I didn't come with you when you will need me most?"
Harry hugged his arms around his chest uncertainly, "A living one?"
She looked around sharply and got in his face. "Oh shut it, Harry. You say you couldn't stand to have me resent you? Well I couldn't stand to have you die when I could have helped. I couldn't stand for you to be lonely when I could have kept you company." She wasn't going to let him go without one hell of a fight. "I'm your friend Harry, I want—" She shook her head. No use dwelling on wishes and wants. They'll only break your heart. She chose a different tact. "I need to be there with you seeing this through. Because if I didn't I wouldn't be able to live with myself," she snapped.
Harry sighed and rubbed his nose, then surprisingly he chuckled. "You know I had this grand plan about repairing the mirror from Sirius and giving it to you so we could talk."
She shook her head, looking at her feet. "It wouldn't be enough, I'd still miss you."
Harry was silent for a time. "Yeah, it wouldn't ever be enough." he agreed. "You know, before I decided to leave the Dursleys, I was thinking to myself, that of all the people I'd be leaving behind…I'd miss you the most."
She couldn't help but blink at him dumbly in surprise. He saw her confusion and explained. "Hermione, you're my conscience, my best friend and my confidant. No one else even comes close."
She couldn't believe he was telling her this. "Not—not even Ron?" She asked.
He chuckled a bit hiding a smile behind a fist for a moment. "Please, have you ever tried to have a meaningful conversation with Ron about something important? I mean, he either insults you, gets irrationally jealous or goes 'bloody hell' all the while clearly not really understanding what it all really means to you."
She smirked a bit, "I believe I may have noticed that over the years, yes. I believe I said he had the emotional range of a teaspoon."
"Yeah, he's an okay bloke most of the time, but that's only because we never really asked much of him before the Department of Mysteries. And it's not like he could have backed out of that, not with you and the others coming to my rescue… No, like I said, I'd miss you most." Then he smirked a bit, sounding surprisingly cynical about his 'best mate'. "And while I knew I would and could never ask, I did wish I could bring you with me," he admitted.
She smiled at him, the first real smile in a while. "Well I guess wishes do come true after all," she noted smiling saucily at him. He was crumbling and she knew it.
He barked a laugh. "Ha! Yeah I suppose they do…" he sobered. "Hermione, in all seriousness, think on this, really think on it, before you commit, because once in it... I don't know that there's going to be a chance to back out."
She glared at him, but it lacked any real heat. She'd won after all. "You know, Harry, sometimes I really want to smack some sense into you! I will not back out on you. So long as you need me, I'll be there."
He smiled, and looked away for a moment. "Hopefully not just then…" He looked back at her and she could swear she saw a bit of moisture in his eyes. "I want you around Hermione, I don't—I don't know what I'd do without you to..." He trailed off.
She smiled impishly at him, reaching out and rubbing his shoulder. "Die probably."
He laughed again. "I really should make a list of the sheer number of time I owe you my life. I bet it'd go on forever." He teased.
She made to wave that off. "You don't owe me anything Harry…"
He gave her a stern look. "That's a load of bull and you know it. But hey, if you want to turn down the opportunity to cash in on all the kinds of favours saving my life might net you…" He teased theatrically.
She laughed and looked away to cover the blush her overactive imagination had created from that statement. Some of those favours could be very nice indeed. "I might take you up on that someday then…just imagine. A whole bookstore's worth of reading material." She joked.
He laughed but was serious when he replied. "Hey, if that's what you want I'll get it for you." he said earnestly. She couldn't help but be touched by his sincerity. She tried to stamp down on the butterflies that were fluttering in her stomach. She'd given up on that, sadly some things just would never be. She'd accepted it.
She cast about for a topic as they once again exited the tower into the courtyard. "So where are we headed next" Hermione asked seriously. He sobered a bit and shrugged.
"I think I need to figure out a way to get rid of the trace, but first we need to—" Harry blinked and a look of dawning horror spread across his face. "God, how are your parents going to react to this? We can't just show up and have you start packing your bags."
She nodded chewing her lip. "No, you're right, they—maybe I could…no." She shook her head in frustration.
"What were you thinking?" He asked curious.
She shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I could obliviate them and send them somewhere safe."
Harry grimaced, he had never liked obliviations, "Hopefully it never comes to that. I think it'd be better to explain it to them. All of it, and—let you say your goodbyes."
She winced at that but nodded. "They're at home today," She ventured.
"How likely is your dad to try and kill me…" He asked then snorted. "Hell, it's the mothers of most species who are the most dangerous. The Horntail taught me that!"
She snorted, she'd just imagined her mother in a bear suit. "Piece of advice before you meet them Harry, I'd advise never equating my mother with a fiery breathing death lizard to her face."
"Even I'm not that stupid."
She felt a familiar argument rise to the surface. "You're not stupid Harry, you just need to apply yourself…" she paused realizing how ridiculous this was considering. "Well, I guess that's what you're doing now isn't it? Just a bit more spectacularly than anticipated." She noticed Harry was looking chagrined, "What?"
"I just realized I have no idea where exactly you live," he admitted.
She shrugged not bothered. "A few blocks from Belsize Park Station."
"Ah,'' he said eloquently.
She considered him out of the corner of her eye. "How'd you get here?" She asked.
Harry considered making a, "Well when a man and a woman really love each other," joke, but thought better of it. "Knight Bus to Diagon Alley, then walked here."
She blinked surprise. "You didn't take the tube? That must have taken an hour or more!"
He shrugged. "Never really been on the tube by myself before. Besides, I like walking just fine.
She shook her head, Harry was so odd sometimes. "Well, we're certainly not walking all the way to Belsize Park from here." She eyed the crummy clothes he was wearing and sighed. "And if we want this to go smoothly it would be best if we go shopping on the way."
Proving he indeed was no dummy Harry understood her meaning immediately. His clothes could use some work. "You know it's a widely held belief among males that getting taken shopping by women is really an excuse for them to torture us. I managed to pick that up even with the Dursleys," he noted dryly.
She sniffed, feigning offence, "You just haven't been shopping with me when it didn't involve books," she said primly.
He grinned, "I know, and I'm not really arguing. Believe me, I know I look like a slob in Dudley's cast offs."
She smiled grimly "Excellent, then let's get you sorted, and we'll face the parental horde together!"
He paused considering that. "Is it wrong that I'm less scared of a dragon than of your parents?"
"No," She said happily.
"Oh good."
Author's Note: Major Thanks to both Bearmauls and Temporal Knight, who are/were pseudo-coauthors especially in regards to the first few chapters and who have been much appreciated Betas for this story. Seriously, you guys freakin' rock!
Recommendation(s): First up we have... Harry Crow by Robst. I'd be horrifically remiss if I never mentioned this Fan Fiction Classic. [Though I'm sure not everyone agrees with that statement] So...go on, read it you fools! And in a twist, I'm gonna recommend a cross-over I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For by Kathryn 518. Fairly solid HP/Star Wars crossover, though unfinished and slow updating. Hopefully that'll change soon.