Beta Love: glitterally. Thank you, my friend!
Ch. 13
Sunday Evening
The Great Hall
A familiar owl dropped a red envelope on Harry's plate just as dinner began. It continued to the faculty table and dropped a white one in front of the Headmistress.
Before Harry could pick it up, it began smoking. "Fucking hell. Best get it done." He pulled it open, and Sirius's voice boomed out.
"Harry James Potter, you're supposed to protect her, and instead you let her wander off with some stranger? Have you lost your mind? If I see one more word about you or Hermione in the paper, by the Founders I'll see too it that you'll both be pulled from school and that contract enforced!"
The unnatural silence of the Hall ended as a titter swept through the students.
"I'm going to kill him. Harry, I'm going to kill him." Hermione slammed her fork and knife down. "I need your two-way." She pushed her chair back. "Are you coming or not?"
He glanced down at the unappetizing ashes of the Howler all over the food on his plate. "Yeah, I'm on my way."
In all the fuss surrounding the two of them leaving, no one noticed the red-trimmed envelope that Daphne tucked into her robe pocket. A Gryffindor like Sirius might make a public scene with a Howler, but Slytherins like the Greengrasses would never air their dirty laundry in public. She shuddered to think of what she was going to hear when she opened it in the privacy of her own room.
Hermione stopped muttering to herself when they reached the portrait entry.
"Quaffle." Harry spoke the password and waved her in.
But she didn't enter. "Harry, what contract was he talking about?"
He blinked furiously behind his glasses. "Buggering hell."
"Tell me," she demanded.
"Can we go in? Not have this conversation in the corridor?" He waved her in once again.
"Fine." She stepped through and stalked over to her favorite chair to sit down. "Tell me what he meant."
Harry dropped down onto the ottoman facing her, elbows propped on his knees. "He wasn't thinking, Hermione. He wouldn't do it."
"What contract, Harry?" Hermione's careful accents warned him that he was running out of time.
"He and my father signed a betrothal contract for the two of us."
"You must be joking."
He shook his head. "No."
"Our mothers thought this was okay?"
"Apparently they didn't sign them, but felt okay about it because either Sirius or my father could release us."
"And when, pray tell, were you planning on telling me about this?" Hermione's leg swung violently, betraying her anger.
"I just found out yesterday! And he told me he wasn't going to enforce it, so I'd hoped it wasn't going to come up," he protested. "And besides, by the time I got back, you weren't here. I didn't see you until the Masque; did you want me to pull you aside then? And today I didn't see you until we sat down for dinner."
Hermione was in no mood to be reasonable, but he could see the wind leaving her sails. "Fine. Where's the two-way?"
Sunday Evening
Grimmauld Place
"You did what?" Kate snapped at Sirius.
"I sent a Howler to Harry."
"Why, in the name of the Founders, did you do that? You are such an idiot!"
"What? Why? He's supposed to be protecting her, Deirdre Kathleen!"
"So you sent him a Howler? One that likely arrived right at dinner time so the entire school, including your very independent daughter, heard it? Have you lost your mind?"
Sirius paled when he realized just how impulsive he'd been. "Bugger."
"Sirius Black! Come to this mirror right now!" Hermione's voice rang out across the room from where he kept the two-way hanging beside the mantle. A look of genuine fear crossed Sirius's face when he heard her tone.
"Do you want me to answer?" Kate offered, taking pity on him.
"Sirius! I know you're there!"
"No, no. I'll do it." He crossed the room and picked up the mirror. "Hello, Hermione. Would you like to explain yourself? Going off with some stranger?"
Behind him, Kate slapped her hand to her forehead and muttered something about "idiot male."
"Excuse me? I'm of age! You may be my biological father, but you're not my keeper! I'm perfectly capable of making decisions on my own."
"That very well may be true, but you were showing piss-poor judgement last night," he snapped back. "You were seen and photographed leaving with someone - not even Harry - and then you came back looking like you'd indulged in some sort of, of…," his voice trailed off.
"You're angry because I was photographed? Or because I was with someone?" Hermione was fuming. "And what is this about a betrothal contract? Surely you don't think I'll sit still for you telling me whom I have to marry!"
Kate let out an audible groan. "Sirius, you didn't threaten them with that."
"It wasn't a threat - "
"Uh, yeah, it was, Sirius." Harry's face appeared in the mirror.
Hermione snatched it before he could continue. "Sirius Black, I'll never forgive you if you try to pick my husband. I can promise you that!" She shoved the mirror into Harry's hand and stalked away.
He held it up and looked at his grandfather. "She wasn't with a stranger. She was with me; you ought to know us both better than that. And since you saw fit to send that Howler, I'm not going to get a chance to have that conversation I wanted to have with her tonight." Harry looked away to gather his thoughts. "And since it came in the middle of dinner, I'd say you're going to have us on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow."
The next morning, when Sirius opened his copy of the Prophet, he found that Harry was right. Bugger. They even picked up on the line about the contract. It's not going to take them long to look it up. Buggering hell, I fucked up.
1st Saturday in November
Slytherin/Hufflepuff Quidditch Match
The first Saturday in November dawned cold and clear. Hermione made her way to the Quidditch stands with Harry and Neville, settling in with their fellow Gryffindors.
"Which team are we supporting today, anyway?" Hermione asked.
"Slytherin, of course," Harry answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"What? Why? Are you friends with Draco now? Really friends?" Hermione couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.
"Well, I don't quite hate the guy like I used to, but that's not why we're pulling for Slytherin," he answered.
"Then why?"
Harry sighed. "We're pulling for them because we want our match with them to mean something. If we both go undefeated, then we'll know for certain we're the best."
"Well, what if Hufflepuff is better? What if they lose here, but then they beat us? Or if they win here and against us?" Hermione reasoned.
Harry and Neville both looked aghast. "Are you taking the piss, Hermione?" Neville asked. "Hufflepuff won't beat us." Neville looked sick for a moment before turning to Harry for confirmation. "They won't beat us, will they?"
"No. They won't," Harry snapped.
"But what if they did?" Hermione moved back to her train of thought.
"Hermione. No. Just no. They won't."
The match, which started just moments later, might have been one of the shortest on record in Hogwarts history. The Hufflepuff Keeper was so inept that the Seeker actually kept fairly close to him in order to try and act as an obstacle for the Slytherin Chasers. After only fifteen minutes, the score was 50-10 for Slytherin. And since his attention was focused on the Quaffle, he was well behind Draco when he spotted the Snitch at mid-pitch. In an exceedingly rare Quidditch move, Draco caught the Snitch in the sixteenth minute with a Plumpton Pass to end the game.
During Draco's victory lap, he paused before the Gryffindor stands and flashed the Snitch at Harry. "Hey Potter! Top that. Sixteen minutes!" He flew off to the announcer's stand where Luna was openly speculating on the effect of Warbling Humdingers on the Hufflepuff keeper.
"Still think Hufflepuff will beat us, Hermione?" Neville ribbed.
"Honestly, Neville, it's not as if it really matters. It's only sport." Hermione sniffed, arms crossed. "And I was asking in the hypothetical sense, not that I actually think we'll lose to Hufflepuff." She turned to Harry who hadn't yet responded to Draco's taunt. "Are you alright?"
He jerked when he heard her address him. "What? Oh, yes. I'm fine. I just can't believe Malfoy pulled off the Plumpton Pass. I don't think that's been done in years."
"Maybe he was showing off," she offered.
"For whom? That was a risky move. He could have lost it so easily!" Neville objected.
"Are you two blind? For Luna! She's a huge Quidditch fan and is sure to be impressed by the – what did you call it, Harry – the Plumpton Pass? That. She's sure to be impressed by it."
"I don't suppose you'd be impressed by it, would you Hermione?" Neville asked.
"Certainly not. I'm only impressed by players not getting hurt."
"You wouldn't be even a little bit excited by Harry catching the Snitch in fifteen minutes?" Neville teased her.
"Well, maybe a little. But I'm more amazed when he doesn't wind up in the hospital wing! Now, can we go inside? I need to go to the library. I have a bit of revising to catch up on."
Sunday Morning (Early)
Room 1
Eighths Tower
Harry silently laughed at the undignified snores emanating from the bed opposite his, so unlike his normally polished roommate. Draco had stumbled, literally stumbled, in from the the victory celebration in the Slytherin dungeons after curfew. He'd dropped, almost fully clothed, face down on his bed and remained there, motionless, but not noiseless, for the rest of the night. Harry briefly contemplated pulling the old aguamenti prank as payback for the bone-jarring snores, but decided against it. He had bigger fish to fry today. He gathered clothes and headed for the bath to get ready to face the day. He had to talk to Hermione today.
No sooner had Harry settled into his seat in the Great Hall than Neville strolled in and dropped into the seat beside him.
"Morning." Neville wasn't long on conversation before his first cup of coffee.
"Morning." Harry grunted as he glanced around the tall wizard towards the doors for the third time in as many minutes.
Eventually, Neville woke up enough to notice Harry's inattention. "Oi, mate, who're you looking for?"
"No one."
"Bollocks. You're looking for Hermione."
Harry grunted again, unwilling to commit to an answer. Maybe today wasn't the best time to talk to her. Maybe tomorrow.
"You know, you need to just tell her how you feel."
"It's not that simple, Neville. She's one of my best friends; I can't lose that."
"You're full of shite. It is that simple." Neville snorted.
"You're one to talk, mate." Harry fired back. "What about Daphne? And you aren't even risking seven years of friendship with her."
"What about her?"
"Have you told her how you feel about her?"
"Situation's a bit different. She's engaged to bloody Malfoy."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, and if she had a way out of it? Would you want her to take it?"
After a moment's pause, Neville nodded shortly. "Yeah, I would." But he wasn't done with Harry quite yet. "Mate, where did you set your balls?"
"What the bleeding hell are you going on about now?"
"You need to go find your pair, because you sure as hell aren't wearing them."
"Yeah - you're one to talk. And I was going to talk to Hermione today. I just haven't seen her."
"Sure. I'll believe it when I see it."
"Oh, bugger off, Neville. Maybe you should talk to your girl and let me worry about mine." Harry gestured to the Slytherin table where Daphne was seated beside Pansy.
Neville looked over at the Slytherin table and narrowed his eyes. "I think I will." He got up. "Think about what I said, mate; I know for a fact Boot is interested."
Boot was interested? Of course Boot's interested. She's bloody brilliant and hot as hell; why wouldn't he be interested? But finding Hermione wasn't as easy as Harry thought it would be. He lingered over his toast as long as humanly possible, cut Quidditch practice short, and checked the library, but she was nowhere to be found. Dinner, however - she had to show up for that. He headed down to the Great Hall and made sure the seat at his side was open.
Finally, just before the first course arrived, the Fates smiled on him. Hermione settled into the seat next to him. Inexplicably, suddenly, he had no idea what to say. Bugger, I should've planned this better. I can't have this conversation in front of all the Eighth years. Maybe she'll go with me to the Room of Requirement after dinner. That's it.
"Harry - I haven't see you all day. How was practice?" She made small talk as she prepared her plate.
"It was fine. Pass the potatoes, please." He took the platter when she handed to him. "I was looking for you earlier. What have you been up to?"
A grimace passed over her face. "I was with Daphne. She and I finished up with the Wizarding law books. It doesn't look good for her and Draco, because her parents and his tied them up very tightly in this contract." She pushed her food around on her plate rather than eating. "I can't find a way out except for them to marry other people, unless, of course, their parents agree to void it."
"And the chances of that?"
"Daphne thinks they're pretty slim." They both looked over to Daphne and Neville who appeared engrossed in a very serious conversation.
"Have you told Draco?" Harry hooked his chin towards his roommate.
"She told him just before we came down; he didn't seem too surprised. But when I mentioned them marrying someone else, he just smirked. You know that look."
Harry rolled his eyes; yes, he knew the look. "Can we talk after dinner? Privately?"
"Have you heard something?"
"No, but since we don't know who's selling pictures to the Prophet, I thought we should keep our heads down."
Hermione looked thoughtful. "I agree. Where do you want to talk? Our common room is out; what about the Gryffindor common room?"
Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice and set his glass down carefully. "Gryffindor common room is pretty public. What about the Room of Requirement?"
"That works. 8:30?"
Outside the Room of Requirement
8:30pm
Harry leaned back on the wall, waiting on Hermione to arrive. He felt like he was in the middle of a Quidditch match, head on a swivel, checking for spying eyes, heart beating out of his chest. He nodded shortly to a pair of Ravenclaws, mentally encouraging them to move along. Thankfully, they complied with his mental admonitions. He wasn't so lucky with the next pair. Who's that coming? Please don't be Felicia, no Felicity, and her friend. Bugger! It is them. They stopped to talk.
"Harry! I haven't seen you in ages! What are you doing, waiting here?"
Running his hand through his already disheveled hair, he flashed a weak smile. "I'm, ugh, waiting on a friend."
"Really? Well, I was thinking, what do you think about going with me to the next Hogsmeade weekend? Just the two of us, this time?" The Ravenclaw batted her eyelashes rapidly, straightening her spine to thrust out her chest.
"Well, uh, I - "
"Harry! There you are!" Hermione arrived just in time and took in the situation at a glance. He turned towards her with a pleading expression in his eyes and an outstretched hand.
"Hermione - you're here. You remember, Felicity and her friend, umm…"
Instead of taking his hand, Hermione slipped under Harry's arm, placing her right hand on his chest and encircling his waist with her left arm. All he had to do was drop his arm across her shoulders, and they presented a very cozy picture for Felicity and Emmaline.
"Yes, I remember them. We all went to Hogsmeade several weeks ago. It's so good to see you both." With a broad and very un-Hermione-like smile, she turned her attention to Harry, looking up at him. "Should we go now?"
"Yeah, of course, whatever you want." Harry nodded to the Ravenclaws. "It was nice to see you both." He turned them and headed in the opposite direction. After they were out of earshot he muttered, "Shit, the RoR is out. Where can we go to talk without a bunch of listening ears?"
"We can try the Astronomy Tower."
"I really hate the Astronomy Tower."
"True. Let me think for a minute." Hermione mused, seemingly unaware that she was still tucked under his arm. For his part, Harry was in no hurry to break apart, and kept his arm firmly around her shoulders.
"The abandoned classroom on the fifth floor?"
"Yeah, we can try there." They made their way companionably down the moving stairs to the disused room in question. Harry reluctantly broke apart from Hermione and slowly opened the door. He froze and blinked rapidly. "No, don't mind me. Just leaving."
He closed the door and turned to face Hermione, face flushed in embarrassment. "Nope. Not abandoned. Got any other suggestions?"
She giggled. "Who was it?"
He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, trying to scrub the image from his retinas. " ?"
"What?"
"You heard me. Anywhere else?"
"Uh, the Restricted Section?"
"Sounds perfect; lead on." As long as I don't have to see my ex-girlfriend in another compromising position, I'm good with anywhere.
Unfortunately, the third time was not the charm. No sooner had they settled into chairs than Hermione nudged a stray book lying on the floor with her foot. The book opened, screaming: "Mud-blood! Traitor! Filth! How dare you touch me!"
Madame Pince's rat-tat-tat footsteps sounded as she moved down the aisle. Hermione and Harry barely escaped detection.
"Bloody hell. We're cursed," Harry swore. "Let's try the kitchens. They'll at least be warm, and what's the worst that can happen? A couple of Hufflepuffs arguing over recipes?"
And sure enough, in the kitchens, three Hufflepuffs were arguing over recipes. Dobby popped over, wearing one of the hats Hermione had knitted for him. "Master Harry! Missy Hermione! How can Dobby help you?"
Seeing that a private conversation wasn't going to be possible, Hermione asked for a plate of finger foods to take back to the Eighth tower. As they waited, they listened to the Hufflepuffs debating the merits of cream for some unknown recipe.
"No, I'm telling you, double cream would be better."
"You're crazy. Single cream would make it fluffier."
"Clearly we need whipping cream."
Dobby reappeared moments later with a tray laden with sandwiches, fruit, and cheese. "Will this be enough? Dobby can get more."
"No, thank you Dobby, this more than perfect." Harry accepted the tray. They nodded to the serious Hufflepuffs as they headed for the door. "Eighths?" As they walked, he continued, "You know, this really sucks. I need to talk to you, and I don't think we'll get any privacy."
"If Daphne's out, we can sit in my room. Or yours if Draco's off with Luna."
When the portrait door swung open, Harry groaned. Except Blaise, Neville, Daphne, and Draco, they were all here, sprawled in the leather chairs and two-seaters. There were even a few 6th and 7th years sprinkled amongst them. Great, even Boot is here.
"Oi! Harry! Hermione. Come over and play a game of Exploding Snap." Justin waved for them to come over and then noticed the tray. "Is that food? I'm famished." He got up and came to inspect the tray.
"Here - take it." Harry handed it over without complaint.
"Let's just go to my room or yours," Hermione murmured in his ear.
"Mine's closer."
Before they could make the right turn to head to Harry's room, Terry intercepted them. "Listen, Hermione, I was wondering if you and I could - " Harry straightened and set his jaw, sending the other wizard a warning look. He abruptly changed tack. "Uh, if you and I could collaborate on the Arithmancy project due next week?"
"Sure! I was thinking that I wanted to look at the implications of the Arithmantic equations in relation to -"
Harry quickly realized he was going to lose her if he didn't stop her. "Hermione. Did you want to have that conversation?"
"Right, right. Terry - let's talk tomorrow, okay?"
Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her to his room, firmly shut the door behind him and closed out the wolf-whistles. He briefly considered reopening it to send out a generalized two-finger salute, but opted for locking it and casting a Muffliato. Twice.
When he turned around, Hermione, already seated on the edge of his bed, was looking at him as if he'd grown two heads.
"One would have done the trick, you know," she said wryly.
He shrugged. "It never hurts to be sure."
"So, what do you want to talk about?"
He took a deep breath and began pacing the room, much like she had not too terribly long ago. Where to to start? "You know I love you. And that I'd do anything for you."
"Of course; you're my best friend." She smiled. "I don't see why you needed to pull me aside to tell me that."
"I don't want to you leaving the Wizarding World," he blurted out. "And I'd do anything for you." Dammit, I already said that.
"So you said," she answered, a bit more slowly this time. Oh Godric, where is he going with this? For the love of all that is holy, don't ask me out because you want to protect me. I won't stand for that. "Umm, where are you going with this?"
Outside the door, several students were gathered, trying to listen in. But thus far, nothing. A cold voice had them spinning around, trying to act innocent.
"That's my room, you plebs. Get away from my door," Draco sneered.
"But…" Justin stammered.
Pansy purred as she rubbed her hand up his arm, "But Draco, Harry is in there with Hermione. And we want to know what they're saying."
Draco absentmindedly brushed off her hand as he made some quick mental calculations. He walked to the door, and it opened for him immediately; it was his room too after all. He walked in and slammed the door, but his classmates got a quick view of Hermione seated cross-legged on Harry's bed with Harry standing up, several feet away, hands shoved in the back pockets of his Muggle jeans. Both jerked their heads to the door as Draco entered. Altogether, it was a disappointing and brief sight for the curious 8th years.
"Oi, Potter, you've got a curious audience out here. They want to know what you two are doing in a muffled room." Draco stopped dead inside the door. "I'd say you had about two more minutes before someone got their Extendable Ears."
"Bloody, buggering, hell, what does it take to have a private conversation in this damn castle?" Harry spat out.
"Did you try the RoR?" Draco suggested dryly.
"Of course we tried the RoR! But those two Ravenclaws Felicia and Emmie, they were there. We couldn't go in!" Harry snarled. "Then we tried the abandoned classroom on the fifth floor and Blaise was with Ginny and they were - ugh - I don't want to talk about it, so we tried the Restricted Section of the library, but there was some bloody book screeching at us about being Mudbloods and filth, so we tried the kitchens, but no, the fucking Hufflepuffs were arguing over whipping cream. It's too damn cold for the stone bridge, and I'll be damned if I go back to the Astronomy Tower -."
A knock on the door interrupted Harry's tirade. He stalked over to the door and yanked it open. "What?" When his vision cleared, he recognized Neville and Daphne standing on the other side of the door. "Neville. Daph. Sorry. Come on in. Join the party." He waved his hand and glared at the remaining 8th years loitering by the door.
"Well you can't blame us for being curious, Harry!"
Hermione jumped up and crossed the room. "Don't start, Padma, don't start." She'd had enough. "This is ridiculous. I'd rather still be living in a tent right now."
"Living in a tent? Salazar's shorts, when did you live in a tent?" Pansy trilled.
"Oh, nevermind. It was just a turn of phrase," Hermione snapped.
"Well, that must be a Muggle turn of phrase because I've never heard it." Pansy sniffed. "And, if you're going to be so unfriendly, I'm just going to leave. " She flipped her hair over her shoulder, spun around, and flounced off in a huff.
Harry cocked his head to the side and to no one in particular, "Do you think she realizes she's in the wrong here?"
Draco, however, decided to answer the rhetorical question. "In the entire time I've known her, Pansy has never admitted to being in the wrong. Ever." He turned from watching his Housemate's progress across the room. "How long do you two need? Longbottom and I will keep these Nosey Nellies away from the door." Their classmates had the grace to look abashed. "And you owe me, Potter."
"Give us half an hour." Harry rolled his eyes. "Any longer and there'll be reports in the Prophet."
Finally, they were alone. Neville and Draco stood outside the silenced door to keep their curious classmates at bay.
Inside, Harry and Hermione started over again, this time with Harry sitting beside her.
"What did you need to talk about Harry?"
He took a deep breath. "I want to date you. Nothing fake. I really want to give us a chance."
Joy, pure unadulterated joy, swept through Hermione. He said it. He wanted to date her. And those insecurities that occasionally plagued every teen girl, war heroine or not, reared their ugly heads. But why? Before she could blurt out her question, he continued.
"It's not because of all this rubbish in papers. I was going to say something earlier, but I wasn't sure how you felt, and then the thing with Sirius and your parents, and the timing was never right. Hell, I'm not sure it's right now. But I love you, I've loved you for years. And I've never felt this way for anyone else." He paused for breath. "Please say something."