A Hundred Storms
Chapter Twenty: The Warning History Shows
But this year I'll go further,
listen closely to my song:
though condemned I am to split you
still I worry that it's wrong.
-Sorting Song 1995, Hogwarts Sorting Hat
Hermione left Draco's room some time later with a lighter heart and a heavier mind. She closed the door behind her with a soft click, but much to her chagrin the common room was not empty, despite the late hour.
"Good evening, Neville," Hermione said through clenched teeth. She wondered if her lips looked as incriminatingly swollen as they felt.
"Hermione." Neville rose from the armchair that looked suspiciously off center from the rest of the room. Hermione wondered if he had had the chair pointed towards Draco's bedroom door all night.
"Well," Hermione said after a pause. "Goodnight." She turned to go to her room, but Neville strode towards her in long strides and gently grabbed her by the arm.
"Hermione, wait," Neville said uncertainly.
Hermione immediately tensed at the contact. "Let go of my arm, Neville." Her voice was low and dangerous.
Neville complied at once and took a small step back for good measure.
"I just want to talk about some things," Neville said in a soothing voice.
Hermione didn't relax. "If by some things," Hermione said in the same tone, "you mean you want to talk about what I do privately, behind closed doors, you are most certainly out of luck."
"Now wait just a moment," Neville began to protest.
Hermione's hand shot out and covered his mouth, effectively silencing him.
"No," Hermione said evenly. "You just wait a moment. If you are under the impression that I don't know that you've been writing to Harry and Ron every time I so much as sneeze, then you are vastly underestimating my intellect. Furthermore, you're needlessly worrying them and driving me up a bloody wall. I am an adult and you would do well to remember that."
Hermione removed her hand and Neville blinked three times before finally speaking. "You know," he said, "you're awfully scary when you're angry."
Hermione relaxed and managed a weak grin. "I'm sorry, Neville," she said honestly. "I understand why you feel the need to be protective, but I hope you can recall that I am more than capable of fending for myself. Furthermore I am also more than capable of an incredibly effective bodybind since the age of eleven. Perhaps you remember?"
Neville gulped but managed a grin. "Understood, Hermione. Really, I do. I just want you to understand as well. This doesn't look good. People are going to start talking."
Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Since when have you cared what others have said?"
"I'm talking about you, Hermione," Neville said sharply.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've had terrible things shouted at me, gossiped about me, and spewed all over the Daily Prophet. Why in the world would I start caring now?"
Neville shifted uncomfortably. "I just mean that you're something of a public figure now, you're a role model and a war heroine. People look up to you."
"What are you implying?" Hermione said softly.
Neville gulped again and whispered, "What will people say? You're sneaking around in private with...Malfoy?"
Hermione took a deep breath and willed the rage that bubbled up in her chest back down to a controllable level. She expected this, she told herself. She knew that she would have to discuss the most recent events rationally, maybe defend herself if need be, but she didn't want to have this conversation now, and she didn't want to have this conversation with Neville.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at Neville. He flinched.
"Do you remember our fifth year?" Hermione asked him suddenly.
Neville wasn't expecting this. "Fifth year? You mean with Umbridge and whatnot? What about it?"
"Do you remember what the Sorting Hat told us at the beginning of term?" Hermione demanded. "Do you remember the advice it gave us before all hell broke loose and our world was flipped upside down?"
"I'm not following," Neville confessed.
Hermione drew in a breath and recited from memory,
"Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
the warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
from external, deadly foes.
And we must unite inside her
or we'll crumble from within.
I have told you, I have warned you..."
"Let the Sorting now begin," Neville finished in a whisper.
"We must unite inside her, or we we'll crumble from within," Hermione said again. "It means that the world isn't split into good people and bad people, Gryffindors and Slytherins, Order members and Death Eaters. The Sorting Hat warned us years ago that history would repeat itself, and that's exactly what happened. History will continue to repeat itself until we do something to truly change it."
"We did change it," Neville argued. "We fought a war and we won."
"They fought a war eighteen years ago and thought they won then, too," Hermione countered. "The problem is that everyone was always focused on Voldemort and defeating him rather than killing the root of the problem, the prejudice and the hate. If I can maybe break through even just a little of that, then this war will have been worth it."
"What does this have to do with Malfoy?" Neville was still confused and felt Hermione was talking in circles.
"I think it's time to put the past behind us," Hermione replied honestly. "I think that if we can do that, we truly can unite, we can become a stronger society and we can be the change we truly need in this world. Nothing is ever going to change if we don't try."
"I still don't like it," Neville said stubbornly.
"You don't have to like it," Hermione replied bluntly. "I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to keep an open mind and remember what it was we fought for. That and to start minding your own affairs or I'm going to start jinxing your quills."
Neville smiled weakly. "That was a joke, right?"
Hermione grinned. "What do you think?" she asked before turning on her heel and disappearing into her bedroom.
The next morning Hermione joined the bleary eyes at the breakfast table after an astonishingly restful sleep. After closing the door on Neville, Hermione had inked a letter to Harry. Once that was finished she dressed for bed and prepared to be kept awake half the night with turbulent thoughts and dreams about grey eyes. Instead she dreamed of a snowball fight she participated during one of her very early years at Hogwarts. The twins were together again and enchanting snowballs from behind a fort made of ice. Waking up was bittersweet, but she had promises she made to herself that she needed to keep.
First order of business was breakfast. Hermione took a seat at the long Gryffindor table and was joined shortly by Ginny. Hermione noticed the younger girl looked as though she had slept very poorly. Hermione wondered if she had been so caught up in her own misery that she hadn't taken the time to notice that maybe Ginny still had a lot of her own healing to do.
Inspiration struck. "Good morning," Hermione said pleasantly.
"I suppose it is," Ginny agreed vaguely.
Hermione grabbed a piece of toast and spread it liberally with jam. "I was hoping to get to the Owlery before class begins," she said amiably. "I wanted to get a letter out to Ron and Harry. I was thinking it might be nice to get together in our couples common room sometime this week."
Ginny's head shot up from her porridge. "Is that allowed?" she asked with more enthusiasm than she had shown earlier.
"McGonagall said we were allowed to bring friends in," Hermione said with a shrug. "She didn't say anything about them being students."
Ginny's eyes grew brighter than they had just a few minutes before, and Hermione felt warmer to have caused it.
"I need to send off my letter, would you like to come?" Hermione asked.
Ginny nodded and the two girls took off to the Owlery before the day's classes could begin. Both were unaware of Neville's curious eyes and the much more penetrating gaze coming from the table draped in green and silver.
Letter safely sent, Hermione waited nervously for Harry's reply. It was true that Hermione has planned on asking Harry back to the castle to see Ginny, but her original reason for writing had Hermione completely on edge.
Finally dinner came, and with it the evening post. Hermione felt herself fidgeting and just wanted to get her hands on the response. Her letter had been purposely vague, but she knew Harry would understand, and if it fell into Ron's hands, she knew he wouldn't.
An owl swooped over Hermione's head, and she snatched the letter out of the air before it could hit the table. She felt someone staring at her and looked up to meet Draco's eyes. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and then eagerly ripped open the envelope and dove into the contents.
Harry's response was exactly what she had hoped for: he was free the next day while Ron was going to help George run the shop. Hermione was happy to hear that George was at least returning to the joke shop he and Fred built together, and she was thankful to Ron for stepping in for their deceased brother.
Harry had suggested meeting outside of town at the Shrieking Shack around noon, and Hermione knew Harry knew exactly what she wanted to discuss. Had he thought this was a normal lunch he would have suggested the Three Broomsticks. He probably even picked tomorrow because he knew Ron would not be able to make it. Hermione sighed. Harry simply knew her too well.
Ginny, of course, was ecstatic. Any chance to see Harry was a welcome distraction from school and the sadness that still clung to many of the students.
Hermione carefully folded Harry's letter and tucked it into her school bag. With a quick goodbye to Ginny she slipped out of the Great Hall and back to her common room.
"Good evening, Blaise," Hermione said to the man sitting in the armchair Neville had been staked out in the previous evening. She noticed the chair was moved back to a more natural looking arrangement in the room and smirked with satisfaction that she had been correct about Neville.
"Good evening, Hermione." Blaise returned the greeting with a smile. "Good day of class?"
"Always," Hermione said and truly meant it.
"Good to see not all things have to change, Granger," Blaise said with a smirk, his tone cheerful.
"I suppose you're right," Hermione agreed. "Well, goodnight."
"Goodnight," Blaise called with some bemusement to Hermione's rapidly retreating back.
Hermione closed the door to her bedroom with a sigh of relief. She suddenly felt the snogging hangover from the night before and suddenly couldn't seem to make herself wait for Draco to get back from dinner. Early day tomorrow, she told herself. Must get ready for bed.
Two hours later a crack in the silence of Hermione's bedroom brought Winky the house-elf, a small bottle with Hermione's name on it in her hand.
Half past eleven the next morning Hermione found herself staring out to the Shrieking Shack. Years ago she stood in this very spot and wondered for herself if the small house was truly haunted. She knew better now, of course, but that didn't really mean anything. Soon soft footsteps alerted her to someone approaching from behind. She felt her body stiffen, but her hand didn't immediately reach for her wand.
"Hello, Harry," Hermione greeted as she turned around.
Harry was dressed for the cold weather in a bulky sweater and scarf, courtesy of Mrs. Weasley. Hermione smiled; she had her own Molly Weasley scarf around her neck.
"Hello, Hermione," Harry said and embraced her warmly. "I've missed you."
"Hogwarts simply doesn't feel right without you and Ron," Hermione said truthfully as they broke apart. "I've had to adapt quite a bit."
Harry frowned. "About that..."
Hermione cut him off. "Shh," she said quietly. "Can we speak somewhere more private?"
Harry looked around, somewhat bewildered, but nodded. Hermione reached out her hand and together they disappeared from Hogsmeade.
Moments later their feet touched ground in a thick forest, the leaves on the trees already the golden color of autumn.
"Wait," Harry said, looking around. "Is this...the Forest of Dean?"
Hermione grinned weakly. "I thought a trip down memory lane might soften you up."
Harry laughed. "You said you wanted someplace private, I didn't realize how private. This must be some story, Hermione."
"Yes, I suppose it is," Hermione replied. She looked around the small clearing they found themselves in, the very same place she brought Harry just days after Christmas only last year.
"It's warmer than last time," Harry said softly.
"I still don't want you taking any dips in the lake," Hermione replied, not taking her eyes off the trees.
"Forgot about that," Harry said, coming to stand beside her. "That's the day Ron came back to us."
"So it was," Hermione agreed.
"Hermione." The tone in Harry's voice finally made Hermione tear her eyes away from the scenery around them. "Will you finally tell me what's really going on? Do you know how many owls I've received between Ginny and Neville? They're saying you're spending a lot of time with Malfoy."
"I thought they were," Hermione grumbled.
"What's going on, Hermione?" Harry took Hermione's hand and looked at her expectantly,
Hermione looked down at their hands and remembered holding Draco's. This was why she brought Harry here, to tell him the truth. She just wasn't really sure what exactly the truth was.
"I've been spending a lot of time with him," Hermione finally agreed. "At first we were just fighting, Harry, you should have seen us. Or not. It was bad...at first. And then the Maliceptor entered in at some point and our blowouts started to become more tame."
"Tame?" Harry asked skeptically. "Tame fights?"
Hermione grinned. "Yes, tame. Our verbal assaults became less malicious, more civilized. I even told him about my parents when their letter came; he was the only one around and I still don't know what came over me. I told him how they pulled all financial support and he listened to the whole story. Harry, he was there, at my parents' house, before I moved them."
Harry froze and dropped her hand. "At your parents' house? He knew where they lived?"
Hermione nodded miserably. "He knew where they were and he knew where they were going. He covered it up when he got back to Voldemort. He told them they were already gone and didn't leave any indication of where they were heading."
"That's...something," Harry said softly. "That's really...really something."
"He paid my tuition," Hermione said in barely a whisper.
"What?" Harry said louder. "He did what?"
"Paid for all of it, the whole thing," Hermione affirmed. "Set up some scholarship for Muggleborn war veterans who are of age. It didn't take much to figure out who did it. He didn't deny it when I confronted him."
"What I would have given to be under my father's old cloak for that conversation," Harry said wistfully. "How did that go?"
"I might have overreacted," Hermione said sheepishly.
"You don't say," Harry replied sarcastically.
Hermione smacked his arm playfully and smiled. "It was bad," she said. "Of course, then it ended in getting attacked by the Maliceptor. Can you believe Malfoy didn't even think to ward his room?"
Harry shrugged. "So that's it then? Friends, just like that?"
"It's not just like that," Hermione retorted. "It's...we're still fighting, we struggle often to keep things civil, but we're closer, like maybe friends."
Harry looked troubled. "Hermione," he said gently, "please don't take this the wrong way, but I thought the reason you broke it off with Ron is because you were always fighting and disagreeing with one another?"
Hermione looked out at the trees again, around the little clearing that had been her and Harry's sanctuary such a short time ago. "It's different," she finally said. "With Ron, he and I were always fighting because we didn't understand one another. With Malfoy-Draco-it's like we're fighting to understand one another. It's like balancing on the edge of a knife."
Harry scrutinized Hermione's reflective face. "You're not telling me something," he observed.
Hermione looked back at him. "He kissed me two nights ago."
Harry stiffened ever so slightly, and Hermione went on. "I kissed him back. I don't think I've ever wanted to be kissed so much in my entire life."
Now Harry flushed, on top of the color the chill in the air gave him. "He didn't force you?" he asked finally.
Hermione shook her head. "Harry, I can't explain it, I can't justify it, and I don't want to. I don't want to have to defend myself against you or anyone else I love. Can you give me that?"
Harry took her hands again and squeezed them tight. "You don't have to defend any of your actions to me, Hermione. I trust your judgment, you've earned that at the very least. I just..." Harry broke off and looked down. "I just wish I knew why it couldn't be Ron. I thought the two of you have been in love with each other for years."
"We might have been," Hermione said. "But there's another reason I chose to bring you here."
Harry looked around, confused. "Here? The forest?" he asked.
Hermione nodded. "Right here in this clearing. This is where I realized I would never forgive Ron for leaving us."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Hermione, that's not fair," he argued.
"Not fair?" Hermione said stiffly. "Ron left us, left me. Of course the Horcrux influenced his decision, but that doesn't change the fact that he still left us. We all wore the locket, but you and I never gave up. I know that logically speaking he was always going to come back, but that doesn't make it hurt any worse. Something broke inside the three of us that night and the damage cannot be undone. Mended, but not truly repaired. Don't deny you didn't feel it, too."
"He saved my life, Hermione," Harry said. "Right over there. Please be rational."
The tears finally spilled over in Hermione's brown eyes. "Can I not be rational, just this once?" she pleaded with him.
Harry's eyes widened in alarm and he embraced his friend in a tight hug.
"It's okay," he said softy. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, you know that. If you don't love Ron, then you don't love him. No one can fault you that. I certainly won't."
Hermione sniffed and stepped back.
"That's just another thing," Hermione said with a watery smile. "You really do try to understand, Harry, while Ron never does. I wonder why I never fell in love with you."
Harry flushed again, this time with embarrassment. "Probably because you knew there would come a time when you would need someone in your corner to help you fight your way out of it."
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione flung her arms around his neck with abandon. "You're the most wonderful human being in the world!" she cried into his neck. Hermione felt the tears begin to build behind her eyes. "What do I do?" she finally whispered. "Ron's going to hate me, Ginny too."
"They won't hate you," Harry argued quietly. "They're going to be angry, so angry, but we're a family, all of us. We've been through too much to let anything tear us apart now." He hugged her tight again and then released her wistfully. "I'm in your corner, Hermione," he said soberly. "But you know you have a hell of a fight ahead of you. Are you sure this is what you want? This isn't some passing fancy? Do you have any idea what a field day the Prophet will have?"
Hermione brushed the remaining tears from her eyes. "Neville said the same thing. Why should I start caring now after that rag has been tearing me apart for years?"
Harry shrugged. "It's not that you should care, only that people will wonder what you're doing. Your character will be called into question."
"I do not care what people with small minds think or say about me," Hermione said firmly.
"Very brave," Harry said with a smile. "Are you sure about this? You talk about the wrong decision Ron made, what about Malfoy?"
Hermione frowned. "He made more mistakes, more bad decisions, than both of us combined, but I think there's something there that was missing before. He never pretended to be anything other than a spoiled little snot, but it really seems like he's trying now."
Harry nodded, not really agreeing or disagreeing. "So," he said slowly. "You and Malfoy, huh?"
"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said with embarrassment. "We're not declaring ourselves or anything of the sort. Maybe it was just a one time thing, a kiss in the heat of the moment helped along by a bit of whiskey."
Harry raised a speculative eyebrow. "You don't really believe that, though, do you?" Harry observed.
Hermione shook her head. "I hope that isn't the case," she confessed. "At the beginning of the term I accused him of not changing at all since before the war." Hermione sighed. "Now I'm wondering if he's not the most changed of us all."