Harry,
I'm so excited to get your letters knowing you're back at Hogwarts! Teddy has been doing great, growing every day. Kreacher told me you wanted him to come help me with Teddy? That's so sweet.
Normally I would have declined, but Kreacher obviously adores him so much… It's honestly bizarre with how he always behaved before everything. But I guess that's the world, right? Always changing… some bad, some good. I have to remember to focus on the good things.
Also, speaking of good things, I hope you don't mind. I was talking with Minerva and she advised me of your training with the school nurse! I'm sure your parents would be so proud to see you forging your own path rather than the path others have set before you. Healing is such a great and noble profession. Are you considering pursuing it further?
With love,
Andy
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Harry sat facing the Dumbledore look-alike in his bright green robes, trying to appear relaxed, but he could feel the big knots of tension in his shoulders. It was his fourth session with the wizard and even though Harry knew the point of these things was to talk out his 'issues', he couldn't bring himself to tell the man much.
The look-alike was actually a mind healer named Horace Purvis, who had twinkling grey eyes as opposed to Dumbledore's blue. His long beard was also a bit darker than Dumbledore's had been. Harry liked to distract himself during the sessions by cataloging the arguably minute differences between his deceased mentor and the wizard in front of him.
"You know, if my appearance makes you uncomfortable, I can get you another mind healer." The wizard offered gently to him, as if Harry was so fragile he couldn't bear the similarities. He actually got a vague sort of comfort in it. Dumbledore's strange doppelgänger here and trying yet again to help him.
"It's fine." Harry didn't share the why of it—even he knew his thoughts about the similarities were pitiful and might really prompt the healer to find another for him. The healer thought that the reason Harry wasn't opening up was because of the resemblance. That was pretty far from the truth. The way Harry saw it he had already lived through the bloody mess. Why bother rehashing it again?
Each loss was carved into his skin, into his soul. If anything, he wished he could forget sometimes, even though maybe that was a weakness. The healer's voice brought him back to the present, and Harry realised he had lapsed into silence staring at the healer, although it didn't seem to make Healer Purvis nervous.
"Can you tell me what happened the day we met at St. Mungos?"
Harry restrained a sigh as he ran through the day without pause, describing the breakfast at Charlotte's house, meeting the ICW mages, and starting the training exercise. He paused when he stumbled over Charlotte's name, his fist clenching.
As he continued trying to walk the healer through the training exercise, he found it harder and harder to keep himself from saying Hermione's name. Harry stuttered, almost as if something disconnected his mouth from his brain. Finally, after he lost the battle to stop himself from calling the ICW mages death eaters, he stopped, his hands now clenched on the arms of the chair.
"Do you know that Svetlana Kuznetsov tried to have Gawain Robards brought up on child abuse charges?"
Harry scoffed. He wasn't a child.
"She was very concerned for you and your well being. After she woke up from the stun, she almost attacked Robards because she felt he should have done more to evaluate you prior to throwing you into training."
The ICW witch's icy face sprang to his mind. It was hard for Harry to imagine that, especially since he had knocked her out.
"The entire ICW delegation wanted a report on your health and wellbeing after the training incident."
"I don't see how it's any of their business." His voice was sharper than he intended. It ground on him to think that strangers would be reading his evaluations. They had no right to judge him.
The healer leaned forward. "The point I'm making here, Harry, is that these people, who you knocked out, who you fought, they are not your enemy. They are not death eaters."
"I know that."
"Yes, of course you do. Your mind knows it." The healer tapped his head, but then moved his hand to cover his heart. "But your heart does not, and that's where we have to focus."
"How do I do that?"
The healer gave him a gentle smile. "With lots and lots of practice."
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Hello Harry,
I hope this isn't intrusive after everything that happened. I'm not sure if you just want to forget everything that happened, but I feel during our time together we were more than just coworkers. Maybe we crossed over into friendship? If you agree, I'd really like to meet up with you again if you're comfortable with it. Robards let me know that you're continuing your education, which is great. I'm happy for you. Caroline has asked about you too and well–we'd both just like to see for ourselves how you're doing.
You don't have to, of course… I know it may be a chapter of your life you'd prefer to forget, but if it's not—if it's okay, maybe we could meet during one of the Hogsmeade weekends that Hogwarts has? Let me know what you think.
Sincerely your maybe friend,
Charlotte Halstead
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Harry placed the letter on the table beside the sofa with a sigh. He liked Charlotte, but she was right that the way he felt about her personally was almost overshadowed by the incident at the Ministry.
"Everything, okay?" Ron asked, looking up from his divination paper.
Even from across the sofa, Harry could see the words "bad omen" spread liberally throughout the paper. "I still can't believe you chose to take divination again."
"You're the one trying to make things hard for yourself. I've got a handle on this–everything means disaster with a sprinkling of despair and I'll get a perfect score."
Harry laughed. "Dumbarse."
"Look who's talking. I'm surprised you're not in the library with Hermione, dealing with the loads of homework you two volunteered for."
Harry ran his hand through his hair ruffling it a little annoyed at Ron's behaviour. "Surprised, you're not in the library with Hermione considering she's partnered with that prat Nott."
"Why?"
Unable to help himself, Harry leaned over and smacked the back of Ron's head.
"You git! You almost spilled my ink!" Ron rolled up his divination paper and whacked Harry back.
"Really? Don't play dumb. You're jealous as hell of Hermione."
"Oh. Yeah… well. You know."
Harry stared at him. "No. No, I don't know. What?"
Ron shrugged, looking down at his paper, and Harry got up closer. "What?"
Ron sighed, finally throwing his paper on the table before them. "It's not like that between me and her anymore."
"What! Just like a month ago, you were begging me to cry off the picnic for all of us! What the hell happened?"
"We kissed."
Harry stared at Ron mute, an unpleasant sinking sensation in his stomach. "Okay?"
Ron looked away, a little embarrassed. "And then we decided we were better off friends than, er, something else."
Harry pointed at him. "Details."
"A Wizard shouldn't kiss and tell."
"Mate, that was what you should have remembered when you were dating Lavender, not now."
For a second Ron laughed at that, then their eyes met the memory of what happened to her throwing ice over their mood. The humour melted away, both of them looking away from each other.
"Don't bring her up again." Ron told him quietly.
"Yeah. I'm sorry."
They both sat quietly for a moment, each trying not to think of the past. When finally Ron spoke. "I wanted something to be there." He looked at Harry. "I wanted it to be me and her, and I tried really hard to pretend like everything was going great."
Questions built up in Harry, as Ron explained, but he kept his mouth shut.
"The dates weren't going well, and I wanted more time alone with her, that's why…. I kind of exaggerated when I talked to you the last time—before we went to training."
"Exaggerated?"
"What was I supposed to say? Tell you things were going shitty and burden you more when you were already holing up with a newborn hiding?"
"The truth Ron, you should have told me the truth and not lied."
"Exaggerated."
"Don't play those games. You know what you did."
Ron rubbed a hand roughly over his mouth, looking away from Harry. "I thought me and her were meant to be. I was trying to make it work. I had this whole plan for that date and it worked. You cried off. She showed up, and we had this perfect meal. We didn't even argue–you know how rare that is for us? And then I made my move–I kissed her."
Ron's hands came up and clasped the back of his neck as he looked down. "It felt wrong. I looked at her and I could tell she felt the same way, but I told her—one more time–one more. And we kissed again. I don't know what happened–when we kissed in Hogwarts that last day, I felt like I could fight a hundred death eaters and come out on top. I felt like I had found the person I wanted to marry. I don't know what happened–why it changed."
Harry thought of Hermione, her curly hair in a braid as she'd taken to wearing it this year, the little curls that broke free to frame her face as she concentrated on her schoolwork. The way she absently nibbled on her quills and sometimes got ink on her mouth. He'd lie for her, too.
"You're my best mate. You're the first person I met when I came to Hogwarts—but you can't keep doing this kind of shite, Ron. You don't think it through when you say things or do things."
"I'm sorry." Ron muttered.
Harry stared at him for a minute, then punched his arm hard.
"Ow! Bloody hell. What was that for?"
"I was really looking forward to that picnic, you git."
Ron laughed. "Yeah, Hermione brought these treacle tarts. I ate them and thought of you."
"You're such an arsehole."
Ron cracked up harder and after a minute, Harry joined him.
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Several students had cast light ventus spells to help freshen the air throughout the dungeon potions classroom. Even so, the smell of the boomslangs they were skinning was still vaguely nauseating.
"Be very, very careful as you skin your boomslang. A master potioneer is always ready to obtain his own ingredients as opposed to going to the shop!" Slughorn said with a cheerful chuckle. "Now who can tell me the benefits of using a shrouding potion as opposed to casting a concealment charm?"
Even though she was behind him, Harry could practically feel the rush of air with how quickly Hermione's hand shot into the air. Beside him, he heard the smallest harrumph from Daphne Greengrass, and he looked over to see her rolling her eyes.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Using a potion as opposed to the charm protects you from counter spells and potentially losing focus on the spell and it slipping at the wrong time. With the potion, you have a guaranteed amount of time for concealment."
"Perfect! What else would I expect from the Head Girl? Now, many wizards these days do not appreciate the full benefit of using potions as opposed to charms, daunted by the effort needed for some more complex potions…"
Professor Slughorn continued on, but Harry focused on correctly skinning his boomslang for the potion. The potion brewed to its best effectiveness with long lengths of boomslang skin as opposed to smaller shredded pieces. A sharply indrawn breath beside him made him glance next to him and he saw that Daphne had managed to cut deeply into her palm, dark blood welling.
"Oh, shit." Ron muttered on Daphne's other side. "Professor–"
"I got her, Ron." Harry cut him off. "Let me see your hand."
Daphne tentatively offered her hand to Harry, who already had out his wand. Harry immediately cast sanitising spells, followed up by longer lasting charms to prevent pain and infection. Then he placed his wand on the table, digging through his robe pockets for a bottle of dittany.
Harry grabbed Daphne's hand, holding it firmly as he sprinkled the dittany carefully. He always had dittany on him now, he didn't know what was it with this year's crop of second-year quidditch players, but they were absolute magnets for various cuts and wounds during quidditch practice.
Harry released Daphne's hand, and she inspected the completely healed wound. Harry had been so quick and efficient she barely had time to feel any pain. He advised with confidence. "If you experience any pain or swelling, please go to Madam Pomfrey or if you see me, I can help you, okay?"
Both Ron and Daphne stared at Harry with wide, round eyes. Daphne spoke first. "Thank you so much Harry, I didn't know you were so versed in healing… it doesn't even hurt! Like I was never cut at all!"
"Blimey, mate, where did you learn to do that? You were almost like an actual healer."
"I've been learning a bit from Madam Pomfrey during my free period."
"I had noticed you were nifty with those second years during quidditch practice." Ron said thoughtfully. "I hadn't realised you were practically a mini Pomfrey though."
"Do not start calling me Mini Pomfrey." Harry warned, already familiar with Ron's attachment to nicknaming things.
Daphne leaned forward and gave Harry a peck on the cheek, causing him to blush. "I really appreciate it. I don't think I'll ever be a good potioneer. I hate the sight of blood, especially my own."
"Well then, you should probably stay away from Harry." Hermione's voice cut in sharply behind them, causing the three of them to turn to face her. Her lips were compressed to a thin line and there was a red slash across her cheekbones as she stared at them.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked her, not quite sure how to take that statement. Why did she look so angry?
Ron gave a small chuckle, leaning closer to Daphne. "Hermione's probably annoyed because we distracted her from her potion making. Don't worry Hermione, I'm sure you'll still get perfect marks."
Hermione looked flustered as they all turned to face her, her gaze darting between Harry and Ron — ignoring Daphne entirely. "I—I just meant—" She paused, finally muttering. "Nothing." And bent over her text, ignoring them completely.
Ron and Daphne shrugged, turning around, but Harry watched her for a little longer but finally turned around to his own cauldron. It was faint, but he heard the quiet sigh Hermione gave when he stopped watching her. Was he bothering her?
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There was this quiet sort of tension between him and Hermione that Harry didn't know quite how to resolve after the potion making incident. He was careful in how he spoke to her, trying not to touch her too much or be overly interested in where she was going and with who — even though it was a bit difficult sometimes.
Today, as they made their way to Ancient Runes, they brushed against each other as they walked. Personal space didn't really exist in some of the corridors of Hogwarts. The lower levels had wider corridors but the upper ones were much more narrow. Because of that and the crush of students going one way or another, Hermione was so close to him that their hands brushed against each other as they walked.
It was the softest of contact- her hand sliding briefly against his every few steps—her skin was so soft. It was hard to keep himself relaxed as he walked. She wouldn't blithely walk so close to him if she knew how much a simple touch seemed to throw him off kilter.
If she knew the way he watched her from his peripherals, paying attention when people came too close to her. Malfoy had listened to him. He was barely a shadow in the halls, maybe he was truly repentant–or maybe Harry had freaked him out that first day—honestly, Harry didn't care one way or the other as long as Malfoy stayed out of their eyesight. A tough thing for a prefect to do with the Head Boy and Girl but Malfoy was managing.
It helped that Luna had taken point on handing out patrol schedules created by Hermione and acted as intermediary for most questions, as if she understood how tenuous both he and Hermione were when it came to Malfoy.
They got into the classroom with time to spare and sat down.
"Morning, Hermione." Theodore Nott's voice was slyly cheerful on Hermione's other side.
Harry concentrated on putting his books down carefully on his desk as he arranged himself for class.
Daphne's perfume preceded her as she rushed into the classroom just a few seconds behind them. She sat down next to Harry on his other side. Since the incident with the cut in potions, she had been very friendly towards him and Ron. "Good morning, Harry."
Daphne gave him a friendly smile. He was about to reply when there was a bang next to him and he looked over to see Hermione bending over to pick up a book she had dropped on the floor. "Sorry." She muttered while picking it up.
Theo was grinning as if he found something amusing and his face just looked so punchable, Harry had to purposely look away. He turned towards Daphne, returning her greeting and making small talk.
A few minutes later, Professor Vector walked into the classroom, calling it to order and putting them to work. As Harry worked through the text, he promised himself he was going to talk to Hermione about Nott.
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That evening as the door closed softly behind Ron, an uneasy atmosphere settled between Harry and Hermione, echoing how hard it had been the first days without Ron there as a distraction during the Horcrux hunt. They had a low fire crackling in their small private common room, and the small snaps of the fire just seemed to emphasise the silence between them.
Would they default to silence again?
Harry looked at her. She was staring down at her text, her eyes slightly unfocused, and he knew she wasn't really reading. "Hermione."
She looked at him, and her brown eyes appeared so dark. He wondered how much she struggled with everything–as much as him? They had been back at Hogwarts more than a month now, and while they had a routine and everything seemed okay on the surface, there were cracks in their foundation. "What's wrong Hermione?"
Harry didn't expect such an innocent question to cause her eyes to water as she stared at him and she shrugged helplessly. He felt a little vulnerable doing it, even though he felt secure with Hermione, initiating physical affection always made his heart clutch for just a second, waiting for rejection.
He raised his arms to her, and she gave a wobbly smile before throwing herself against him, in one of her signature overly aggressive hugs that he absolutely adored. "Everything's so confusing." She whispered against him and he had to fight not to shiver at the feel of her breath so intimately against his neck.
"Tell me. I'll help you."
She shrugged again, her hands clasped tightly around him. He rubbed her back soothingly. "You never asked me what happened. Why I quit."
Hermione pulled back at that, meeting his eyes. "I didn't want to pressure you. I knew it had to be something…" She trailed off, not finishing.
"Bad." He finished for her. She didn't nod, but he could see the agreement in her expression. "It was pretty bad."
She reached out, her hand laying comfortingly against his cheek. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."
He pulled back a little, and her hand dropped. "I didn't want to tell you." He admitted. "It's kind of... It's…" He waved his hand in the air, not able to come up with the right word.
Hermione watched him giving him space as he worked through what he was trying to tell her. Harry looked away from her, staring in the opposite direction so he wouldn't see it if she felt pity for him. He told her the whole story so she would know exactly how messed up he was. How he had been called into headquarters, then meeting the ICW mages, and last the training exercise.
For some reason, just having Hermione there made it easier to say it was Charlotte. He only stumbled at the end, after Charlotte had gotten hurt. "I–I–I went completely mental. I was screaming your name. I wouldn't let the healers near her. She could have been hurt worse because of me."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. "They had to knock me out. When they woke me back up, I—I swear—I heard Moody." He paused, trying to hide the fact that tears were escaping.
"Constant vigilance." They both said in unison and he looked over to see she was crying too, and they both laughed wetly.
She came closer tentatively, watching to see if he would pull back and when he didn't, her arms went around him again and he breathed a sigh of relief. "So, what do you think?" He asked softly.
Am I crazy?
"I think I want to try the cruciatus on Robards."
"Hermione!" A disbelieving laugh escaped him.
"What?" Hermione asked, the temper obvious in her voice. "He was so eager to get you and Ron into the Aurors — he made all these exceptions — waiving the need for you to even meet the prerequisites and then not even allowing either of you normal hours—how is that okay? How is that right? He hurt you. I absolutely want to hurt him back."
Harry rubbed her back soothingly, trying to calm her temper. He caught the little bright flashes that said her hair was sparking, a sure sign she was extremely pissed off.
They sat there like that for long minutes — much longer than it took for Hermione's temper to cool. Harry didn't pause the slow strokes of his hand up and down along the curve of her back as she was slightly bent to snuggle close to him.
"So that's why then. That's why you didn't make the visit. Why you stopped writing."
He nodded, apologizing again. "I'm sorry. It was just so… confusing. I thought I would act crazy with you."
"I'd rather you talking to me—and with me—behaving crazy than not knowing what may have happened to you."
"I couldn't—"
"Harry." She pulled back and put her face close to his, almost nose to nose, driving him cross-eyed.
"What." He asked, blinking.
"If I was in trouble, would you want me to hide it from you? Would it burden you? If I thought I was crazy—would you prefer I just disappear rather than burden you?"
"Fuck no." The vehemence of his reply shocked them both, and they stared at each other, before laughing. But Harry sobered quickly, grabbing both her hands to squeeze them. "Anything. Anytime. Anywhere. You need me and I will be there, Hermione. Even if it's just a shadow, I'll help you chase it away."
She gave him a smile as her eyes glistened. "Then you dumb git, don't you think I would do the same for you? Have I ever left you? Turned you away?"
She hadn't. Not once. She had gotten after him for sure, but she had always, always, been by his side.
"Sorry." He whispered. "Sometimes I get confused."
"Me too."
Silence fell again, but it was more comfortable, as if some of the air between them had been cleared. Harry had wanted to ask her about Theodore Nott, but now it didn't feel right to bring that up. He cleared his throat. "What do you get confused about, Hermione?"
The silence stretched, and he had to restrain himself from pressing. It was strange, because he had never had to really try to 'get' Hermione to tell him things before—she just always did without him having to ask.
In the end, she didn't answer his question. She looked at him with her dark eyes again. Harry could see something was bothering her. He wanted so badly to be the one to help her with whatever it was — to show her that he could fix it. He would fix it.
She clasped his hands between hers, admitting quietly. "I'm having trouble sleeping and having really bad headaches."
"Why haven't you come to the hospital wing?"
She shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it with anyone."
"Do you want me to get you dreamless sleep?" Madam Pomfrey had that locked away, but Harry knew he could get it.
Her fingers moved, almost caressing his hand, and she shook her head. "Remember in the tent when Ron left?"
He nodded. "Of course."
"You slept with me, hugging me. Even after… at shell cottage…" Her hand tightened on his. "I–I don't want to sleep alone, Harry. I get scared too much."
He stood up, pulling her with him, and gave her a carefully platonic kiss on the cheek. "Then you don't have to. Go change into your nightclothes and then you pick where we sleep."
He watched her go to her room, struggling with conflicting feelings. On one hand, he was ecstatic that their friendship was stronger than ever. Hermione was never going to abandon him—and she trusted him to take care of her in return. On the other hand, was he so completely off her radar that he was the equivalent of sleeping with a big teddy bear?
Ten minutes later, they were curled up in her bed. Harry thought he would struggle to sleep, but as soon as she settled in his arms, he could feel his eyelids get heavy.
"Night, Harry." She whispered softly.
He snuggled closer, wrapping around her like she was his favourite teddy bear. "Good night, Hermione." He whispered against the back of her neck as he drifted off to sleep.
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A/N: I expect this story per plotting to be about 18 chapters. Hermione and Harry get together about chapter 9. I don't really consider this angsty, so comments moaning about that are weird to me. They're just dealing with feelings they can't quite communicate with each other yet and leftover trauma from the war. *shrugs*
