Author's Note : Sorry for the long wait. Real Author's note is at the end. Have a good read ! ;)

Thank you to Comical Epiphanies for beta-reading ! (Go read her fictions !)

'Harry, can I ask you a question?'

Harry looked at the witch sitting in front of him with apprehension. He knew what was coming. Either it would be an accusing, "Why are you avoiding me?" or it would be a question about his two lives. He knew she had suspicions—she had to, intelligent as she was. And she was far too curious to let the matter rest.

'Go on,' he said uncertainly. Under the café table, his leg started to jump up and down with tension. The café was a nice place Hermione had found while doing research. Apparently, it was a French café, if the accent with which the owner talked was any indication; and true enough, the decor was a French cliché. It was small but it had a cozy feeling to it. White- and red-squared cloths covered the tables, matching the curtains. The furniture was made of smooth, pale brown wood and the chairs were so comfortable Harry was considering miniaturizing one to take home. That is, he had been until Hermione had dropped her bomb.

'Why did you want to become a doctor?'

Harry almost reeled back in surprise, relief flooding his every limb that she didn't know his secret. 'Oh,' he said, flushing a little. Her eyes flashed, as they did when she noticed something. No doubt she was wondering why he was flustered. The witch picked up her spoon and added sugar to her tea, the metal clinking delicately against the china.

'Err… Well… Why are you asking?'

She threw her bushy hair behind her shoulder, irritated as she always was that it clung to her face, and picked up her cup of tea and sipped. Her keen brown eyes met his own as she shrugged. 'I just realized I'd never asked.'

Her tone suggested there was an ulterior motive, but Harry let it go, relieved by her choice of subject. It had taken a long time for him to finally come and see her. Part of the reason he hadn't before was time—healers were among the busiest professions one could find—and her own formation loaded her with work, which she added to with her usual zeal. But another part of him had also wanted to avoid her, not out of spite, but because he feared he would end up telling her too much and she would put the pieces of the puzzle together.

He tended to blabber a little too much around her and sometimes, that witch was just too smart for her own good.

Originally, he wouldn't have minded telling her, or any of his other friends, his secret. But after fifth year, each time he had thought of broaching the subject, loud, mystical words spoke in his mind: 'the one with the power the Dark Lord knows not approaches'… That was enough to kill off any desire of telling them.

It wasn't that he didn't trust them, or that he thought he had to share this burden alone. Only this strange, double life he led could very well be the power Voldemort was not supposed to know about. The only way Harry could ensure it remained unknown was by keeping it to himself.

His friends, after all, didn't know Occlumency. They had no barrier preventing Death Eaters from plucking his secrets from their minds. And if the power he held was the prophesized power, he couldn't lose such a huge advantage against one of the most powerful wizards of his time.

'Harry?' A hand waved in front of his eyes and he jumped. To restore his composure, he drunk his own cup of tea, trying not to grimace when he found it cold.

'Sorry. I got lost into my own mind.' He frowned playfully. 'I swear, this thing is a total mess.'

'Like your hair, you mean?' A dimple dug into her cheek as she smiled.

'Touché.'

'So why did you become a healer?'

'To help people,' he said automatically.

'Alright, I can guess that,' Hermione said, using the "you're-an-idiot" tone. 'But why do you have such a strong compulsion?' Realizing she sounded almost accusing, she quickly corrected, 'I don't mean to say it's not great. But why did you choose to channel it by becoming a healer, when you could have become… I don't know, a teacher?'

Harry tapped a finger on his chin. 'You know, I never asked myself that question.' He chuckled when she huffed. 'What can I say? I've always told you you were more intelligent.'

'This has nothing to do with intelligence,' she retorted, pink suddenly coloring her cheeks. 'So?'

Harry looked back on his life. Had there been a moment when he had suddenly decided to become a doctor?

'Perhaps it was an unconscious reaction to my mum being murdered in front of me,' he whispered. Hermione narrowed her eyes; she paid as much heed to psychology as Divination, which was to say, not much. 'Or perhaps I was just impressed by the doctors when Dudley almost died at eight.' But he had wanted to become one before that. 'But I don't think so.'

He stayed silent for a few heartbeats, rummaging through his memory. 'Okay, I have a theory. Maybe I always felt like I had the potential to do great things—I realized pretty early I had photographic memory, you know. I wanted to use that potential to help people. The healer seemed like the best choice… It's what I've wanted to do for years. Even before I knew I was a wizard, I wanted to be a doctor. As to why, well... It might seem pretty stupid, but I think when I learned history in primary school, the people that stayed with me most were physicians. And I remember being struck by the Hippocratic oath. "I will never do harm to anyone." That's beautiful.'

He almost stopped, then, but his bulwarks had fallen and words poured like water from his mouth. 'It's the most beautiful profession in the world, Hermione. Not the easiest, not the most lucrative, not the most fascinating, even. But the most beautiful. There are moments when hope dies. When the hospitals become places of sadness. When you have done all you could, and it was not enough.' Though his voice shook, he went on, 'But you continue fighting. For the smiles on a patient's face. For their family's relief. For their laughter… Because when you succeed and the patient goes home fine, well, they leave happy. They're happy, Hermione. Is there anything as beautiful in the world as making people happy?'

Harry had touched it. The reason why he'd become a doctor. He touched it almost physically, just as he had when he'd encountered the Mirror of Erised a long, long time ago. When his patients went home, families were reunited.

They were whole again.

A whole family was what he himself had lacked.

And because he knew how terrible, how awful, how lonely it felt… it was something he couldn't bear to see anyone else lack.

He glanced at Hermione, only to find a blurred shape in her place. Startled, he touched his eyes, and there were indeed a few tears wetting his eyelashes. He wiped them, flushing red, embarrassed at his moment's lapse.

But the witch didn't look judgmental. She gave a compassionate smile, as if she had read the true reason in his mind, and touched his hand. It was a casual, natural gesture, but Harry felt a little better. He sipped at his tea.

'Thank you.'

'No. Thanks for answering. So, you're really sure you want to keep drinking a cold tea?'

When she got home, Hermione felt reassured. Perhaps Harry had been avoiding her, but she had finally seen him and he didn't appear any more distant, so he probably didn't want to cut ties with her.

But she hadn't forgotten how strangely he had acted at one point in the conversation. He had dreaded her asking something. As to what question would have sent him panicking… It had obviously something to do with what he hid from her. But she knew nothing of it!

Had he dropped hints at some point, which she hadn't noticed but which he thought she had?

Or did he think she could just figure out the secrets by herself?

Whatever the answer, she decided to lay it to rest for now. It would gain her nothing to freak Harry out. She resolved to ask other, more innocent questions. It served two purposes: to get to know him better after the shameful realization of a few days before that she didn't actually know much about him and to wait until he trusted her enough to reveal his secrets. She was usually patient with her friends—they had been patient with her at the beginning, after all—so why couldn't she be so for Harry?

She sat at her desk, looking with dismay at the mountain of letters courier owls had brought during the time she'd been gone. She had a lot of work to do, and no time to ponder more on the problem. Just as she was about to reach for her wand to open the nearest letter a corner of a parchment buried under all the letters glowed red.

She pulled it out. It was the Magic Missive she shared with Susan. Her own invention, it was a set of twin parchments. When someone wrote on the first, the same words appeared on the other and the parchment glowed red to indicate a new message. Terry had joked numerous times that should she ever commercialize it, she would revolutionize the owl system and become a millionaire, but so far, she hadn't even considered it. It was always useful to have a hidden advantage in a war, after all.

Settling a little more comfortably in her chair, she read Susan's message. She had to squint because the ex-Hufflepuff had obviously written fast.

I know we got a meeting planned on Sunday next week, but I thought it was important enough not to wait till then. Do you remember when you asked if Harry was avoiding us? Well I hadn't realized until you said it, but he does seem a little edgy these days. You and I both know he has secrets. Well, if we want to be in on it, we have to learn Occlumency, apparently. Do you know what that is? Can you find books on the subject?

Hermione stared at the paper then scrambled for a quill and inkwell. How do you know we need to learn that?

Obviously Susan had the paper near hand, for the reply appeared a minute later. I asked what we had to do to be able to hear what he's hiding. He told me.

The witch gaped at the Missive, feeling all but cheated. She devised a clever plan to give Harry the space he needed without losing his friendship, and a little Hufflepuff honesty was all that was necessary?

She could have murdered Susan right now.

She calmed down a little when she realized she hadn't been as stupid as it seemed: her plan would still serve to deepen Harry and her friendship.

But still, she could have seriously maimed Susan right now.

There was nothing Hermione Granger hated more than to feel stupid. Especially when the solution was that simple.

I'll get the books, she wrote a little ungratefully. Can you warn the others? About the Occlumency thing?

No prob, came the response. And please don't be mad at me!

Severus Snape heard him before he appeared, but he didn't move, still bent over his students' essays, busying himself by making big red slashes on a poor and undeserving piece of parchment. At last came a knock.

'Enter.'

In walked Harry Potter. Snape spitefully—and a little childishly—continued to grade the essay until he had reached the bottom of the page, at last landing his gaze on the young man. Potter hadn't moved an inch, standing in front of the desk with his hands folded together. He looked terrible. His hair was messier than normal; he was bleary-eyed, his face was drawn and tired, and dark circles contrasted sharply with his complexion. No doubt he would have gratefully sat down, but he was waiting for his former professor's permission.

Snape did not indulge him and took the essay's second page, his eyes deciphering the sloppy handwriting as he tried not to sneer in disdain. Did nobody like Potions enough to write a decent piece of work?

'You look awful,' he said.

'Is that concern in your voice, professor?'

The professor's eyes snapped up to the brat again. Was that—finally!—a sarcastic comeback from the Potter spawn? But no. His gloating excitement gave way to disappointment as he took in the frank gaze of his ex-student. The young man really was asking. Why couldn't he provide Severus with a little bit of amusement sometimes, or at least give him an excuse to rant?

'No.' Snape resisted pinching the bridge of his nose or sighing. The boy was hopeless.

Yet the Potions Master had seen his friends laugh at things he said… So, his mind concluded, either he had a sense of humor and didn't show it in front of his teacher, or he hadn't and his friends laughed because he was the Boy-who-Lived and they felt compelled to.

The second proposition was the right one, Snape decided.

He rose, fetched a few potions from his cabinet before handing them to Potter. 'Here. Those are the potions you asked me.'

'Thank you, sir. I believe your pay has been delivered to your bank account,' came the careful reply.

'May I ask what purpose they will serve?'

'Well…' Potter seemed embarrassed. 'You know the project is secret, sir.'

"I know that, you silly boy!" the professor thought. "I was hoping you'd tell me anyway." He tried to squash his curiosity, to no avail.

'But you will like it… I think,' he added.

'And will that marvelous product of yours hit the stalls soon?' Snape drawled.

'I… doubt it.'

The conversation had come to a standstill. The healer fidgeted—wishing to be gone and to bed, doubtlessly—but he was waiting for Snape to dismiss him. The Potions Master smirked. Today was not his day; perhaps Potter's disappointed face would dispel his bad mood?

'I daresay your pet project will have to be put on the backburner, Potter.'

The young man's eyes flicked up to his. Worried emerald green. Snape twisted sourly, remembering things past, when those same eyes had looked at him in the very same way. When Lily Evans and he had still been friends.

'You see, Voldemort has just made his comeback. Azkaban has been burned to the ground and all the Dementors and former prisoners have joined his army.'

Author's Final note : There you go, a whole chapter... How does it feel? Good enough to leave a review? Please remember that "a well-rounded review is the best compliment a writer can receive". I think it's what this website says when you leave a review... Don't you want to make me a great compliment? :P

Enough of that. The next chapter will probably contain more action, so all of you who are desperate for the story to really pick up will be satisfied ! ;)

Oh. One last note : if you like fantasy stories, please go check out my story on Fictionpress. You might be pleasantly surprised ^^ ! Link is my profile's homepage.

See you !