So, this one formed out of a desire to put away the grandiose and complicated treasure hunt story of The Lily Academy and take things back to the simple roots of a Harry/Hermione schooltime romance. I thought it would be fun to have them meet later on and mingle having established separate identities at Hogwarts.
Now, some notes:
Harry is not the BWL, Neville is. Lily escaped Godric's Hollow with Harry by way of an emergency portkey. As such, Sirius is innocent, though Pettigrew is still at large, having slipped away before he could be caught.
Hermione was born three weeks premature and started Hogwarts in 1990, where she was sorted into Ravenclaw. She befriended Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe and is a bit more socially acclimated than she is in canon.
I think that's it.
Chapter One: Inextricable
It was much too cold for this sort of malarkey.
As a bracing (actually quite chilly) breeze whipped Hermione Granger's hair about her face, she let an irritated huff, digging around in her bag to produce a hair tie before gathering up the bushy mass as best she was able. Hopefully this one would hold long enough for Cho to get her cabin fever out of her system; her hair was notoriously unforgiving to all but the sternest of restraint, even when reinforced with an unbreaking charm. Once that was in order, she settled back to the task of attempting to page through a reading assignment from Professor Flitwick, to hopefully make some good of this diversion.
Unfortunately, the wind was being extremely uncooperative. Reading outside was a nice thought, a romantic sort of notion accompanied by visions of a woman in outdoorsy attire sitting under a tree in golden sunlight while reading a Jane Austen novel, poised and elegant and dignified. The stark reality, however, was a mane of unruly hair waging fierce battle against a persistent Scottish wind while a less-than-dignified girl finally gave into the elements and slammed her book shut, stuffing it into her bag. Resisting the urge to fold her arms and pout at the very concept of weather patterns, she focused instead on the shrinking figure of her best friend as she circled through the air. Poor Cho had been chomping at the bit, so to speak, since quidditch had been cancelled this year.
She had also fumed, at length, to Hermione over the pointlessness of doing so, given that there would be ample time between Triwizard events to play a game or two. Hermione, meanwhile, had brought up the fact that this was OWL year for them; it would be a tall order to focus on their studies in any capacity given the hubbub going on around them. Even among the Ravenclaws, however, such a thing wasn't so drastic a concern to others.
In any case, Cho's was the problem more reasonably alleviated, in the form of a pick-up game with the Hufflepuff team. Marietta had begged off already, citing a total lack of interest in the proceedings and a desire to remain out of the cold. Hermione lacked any such luxury; she was Cho's flying coach, despite being only passably able to fly a broom herself.
Apparently, the old adage about those who can't do teaching rang true in her case.
Thus, it was probably for the best that she found herself unable to page through a book in the presently windy environ; Cho would be extra anxious to keep on form, lest next year's new quidditch captain decide she wasn't up to snuff to remain on the team. The seeker pool was strong as of late: the handsome and affable Cedric Diggory, the arrogant but actually quite talented Draco Malfoy, and the quiet and mysterious Harry Potter. As the lone female in the position, Cho felt the need to shine in her own right.
Hermione, of course, was always onboard for female empowerment, even if it she bore no real interest in the world of sports.
And that was how, on a blustery November day when the cold of Scotland had transformed late autumn into early winter, Hermione met him.
"Hey. Mind if I sit here?"
Glancing down from watching Cho manage to turn flying into flirtation as she circled Cedric Diggory, Hermione met a set of startlingly green eyes. Goodness, but they were like emeralds! Shaking off the errant thought (was she the heroine in some romance novel?), she scooted over a bit to make room for the new arrival.
"Not at all, go ahead," she told him.
"Appreciate it," he said. He gracefully lowered himself into the seat, and Hermione glanced sidelong at none other than Harry Potter himself. She knew of him by virtue of keeping abreast of the quidditch rosters from year to year, in order to help Cho with her training, though her knowledge began and ended with his stats and some bits of student information. Fourth-year, Gryffindor, natural as opposed to technician, always the first to spot the snitch, and (most impressive) undefeated. On the field, he was a ghost, flitting around much like the snitch he pursued. Off the field, he was much the same, unknowable and rather aloof.
And Hermione was sitting next to him. She wondered how many jealous looks were being shot her way; Harry Potter was rather easy on the eyes, after all. She was sure he had only chosen this spot given the crowd in the stands; the Beauxbatons contingent seemed to have some quidditch fans that were happy for a distraction, and the very famous Viktor Krum had even graced the peasants with his presence, meaning his entire fan club—some of whom had likely never been to a quidditch game—had tagged along.
Idly, Hermione wondered what Harry was even doing here; he wasn't the sort to scout the competition, to her knowledge. Surely he had better things to do. But as she shot him another look, she saw his eyes fixed on and following one particular and erratic set of movements. He wasn't here to scout the competition.
He was here to watch her…
Someone, it seemed, was sporting a crush. Poor thing. Cho was smitten with Cedric Diggory, and judging from the playful banter Hermione had seen exchanged between the two, things were rather mutual. It was only a matter of time (and if the Triwizard Tournament kept up the Yule Ball tradition, an inevitability) before things took a step further than friendship.
Still, she couldn't bring herself to squash his dreams, not just yet. Maybe he'd figure it out for himself.
"So…you and Cho are good friends, then?" Harry asked her, his voice a bit too affected-casual to really sound so. He was fishing for information, to be sure. It was honestly sort of cute.
"Best friends," she said, rolling her eyes. "For better or worse. It means I get dragged along to every quidditch outing of hers."
"Not really a fan of the sport?" he asked. "I would have thought…"
"Oh, everyone thinks me so obsessed with it, I'm sure," Hermione said. "I'm Cho's flying coach. Being friends with her, I've read quite a few books on the subject, and I know a lot of the techniques and tricks to improve her game. I can't fly a broom to save my life, but I can teach her how to."
"Well…you do a good job," Harry said. "She's rather good at it."
"I know, I'm so very proud of her," Hermione said in a falsely fluttery voice. "My girl's all grown up."
Harry chuckled at that, a sound that Hermione quite liked. He had a dusky sort of laugh, one that came from deep in his chest. Fixing his eyes skyward once more, a frown marred his features as he saw Cho and Cedric chatting and laughing while the game began to take shape. Hermione watched as he reached up and began to toy with his gold and crimson scarf, gripping and twisting it.
"They seem…friendly," he observed.
"Yes, they're…quite close," Hermione told him reluctantly. She didn't like the way his face looked with a frown. "They've been friends for some time."
"How did they meet?" Harry asked her in a voice that was now anything but casual. So much for his affected indifference, Hermione thought in amusement. "I mean…"
"Curious about the bustling social world of school quidditch teams?" Hermione asked him, and Harry smiled sheepishly at her. "Cedric would have to chase her off the field all the time last year when he became captain of the Hufflepuff team. Cho gets…obsessive about her training sometimes."
"But she's quite good," Harry said.
"Because she trains," Hermione told him. "Not everyone's a natural like you."
Harry's face flushed a bit at that, and he shrugged. "I'm not all that amazing at it," he muttered.
"Not that sort of natural," Hermione insisted. "Although, you are quite a good seeker and an excellent flyer. Rather, you learn best by doing. You get up there, you figure out the best way to play your role, and no one really has to teach you in a hands-on sort of way. They show you the destination, and you get there. Cho's a technician. She does best with frequent practice and constant course-correction. Cho learns best by being shown what's expected of her and constantly repeating that."
"That sounds tedious," Harry said with a frown, and Hermione snickered a bit.
"Well, that's because you're – "
"A natural, yes," he said.
"Neither is better than the other, and both have their strengths," Hermione went on. "Naturals tend to learn more quickly and are better at improvising on the field. But they're also a bit hard to teach, especially when that teaching rubs against what they're already doing. In short, they're stubborn."
"Have you been talking to my mum?" Harry wondered aloud, and Hermione felt another little laugh bubble from her. "Are you going to be a teacher? You seem to have the measure of how to do it."
"Possibly," Hermione shrugged. "I've also considered working in the Ministry someday. There's a dreadful amount of corruption and outdated notions of pureblood supremacy that are bogging down the system. So many laws that have been passed in the past decade seemed to be precisely aimed at stripping sentient creatures of any rights or freedoms they have, when they hardly had all that many to start with. Did you know, in the past five years, the amount of acreage devoted to centaur reservations has halved? And what are we doing with that land? Selling it off to rich purebloods who use it for bragging rights and nothing else. And that's not to mention our abysmal treatment of house-elves. It's utterly inhumane, the way they're allowed to be treated, and all with the tired old justification of 'They enjoy servitude.' That's what generations of brainwashing does to a species!"
She realized she'd gotten quite a bit loud, though given the din of noise growing around them as the game unfolded, it went mostly unnoticed, except by Harry. He was staring at her with an incredulous expression, eyes wide and lips quirked slightly in a smile.
"Goodness, you'd tear the whole place down," he said, and Hermione sniffed a bit.
"Perhaps it needs to be," she said in lofty tones.
Harry Potter grinned at her, a crooked sort of smile that did wonders for his handsome face. Effortlessly, it seemed, he reached up to brush a lock of his untidy hair from his eyes, looking for all the world like the cover to some sordid teen magazine.
And Hermione's heart, traitor that it was, gave a solid thud in her chest at the sight.
Oh, she thought. Oh, no.
They spent the rest of the game nattering on about this and that. Harry would occasionally ask after some insight into Cho's playing style, but mostly he was content to watch her play. The poor boy had it bad. Then, about an hour into the match, Cedric made a swift and effortless dive that went completely missed by Cho as she scoured the west end of the pitch. Groaning, Hermione could only watch as a dismayed Cho realized what had happened only once the crowd went up in cheers and Lee Jordan announced that Hufflepuff had won their little scrimmage.
"She won't let that one go for a while," she muttered.
"Cho?" Harry asked.
"She beats herself up for exactly this sort of thing," Hermione sighed. "Any victory is luck, any loss is her own personal failure. I've been trying for absolute years to convince her that she's actually quite talented. I've even gotten through to her a few times. And then she cycles right back through it."
"…You're a good friend," Harry said, and Hermione blinked several times at the statement. "She's lucky."
"Well," Hermione shrugged, feeling her face heat up a bit at the earnestness in his expression, "she's returned the favor a hundred times over. I expect if it wasn't for Cho and Marietta, I would have become some sort of social hermit, quite alone with my books."
"Hermithood isn't so bad," Harry said with a small shrug. "Does keep you a bit out of the loop when it comes to the quidditch gossip, though."
Hermione smiled over at him, giving him a gentle little punch in the shoulder. "Hey, don't give up hope," she said. "Maybe all she needs to do is get to know you."
He looked a bit gobsmacked at that, a bashful expression on his face now that Hermione found rather…adorable.
Oh, no.
"Is it so obvious?" he asked. Hermione rolled her eyes, resting her chin in her hand.
"Only very extremely," she said. "Don't worry, I won't tell her anything."
"Maybe you could put in a good word for me?" he asked with a small grin, and Hermione snorted out a laugh.
"It's hardly so easy as that!" she said. "Besides, I've only just met you. If you want the best friend's vote of confidence, it takes time."
"…Right," Harry said, with such a befuddled expression on his face that Hermione couldn't stop an honest-to-goodness giggle from escaping. What was this boy doing to her!?
She was saved trying to formulate a response by a thunderous set of footfalls climbing the stairs to the stands. Around them, without either of them really noticing, the seats had begun to empty as the game wound down, and the players had gone their separate ways.
Cho, as always, went straight for her coach, and the expression on her face was one of the utmost woe.
"He caught the thing without me even seeing it!" she all but shrieked, oblivious to Harry's presence. "I'm utter garbage at this game, I'm resigning, I'm not even trying out next year – "
"Oh, yes you are, you dramatic woman!" Hermione said, springing to her feet. Behind her, Harry watched with evident bemusement as she ushered her friend toward the stairs. He managed a small wave, which Hermione returned before escorting Cho back to Ravenclaw tower for another pep talk.
The whole way there, she found herself musing on Harry Potter, his brilliantly green eyes, his perpetually windswept hair, and the rare but wonderful smiles and chuckles and moments of levity that slipped through his aloof façade.
Oh, this was going to be so complicated, she was sure.
…
Later that night, Hermione finally managed to make a decent go at Flitwick's reading assignment, settled into a cushy high-backed chair in the decidedly more hospitable Ravenclaw common room. The large and high-windowed room was quite dark and had emptied out as the younger years had finally conceded the battle to their own tiredness and retreated to bed.
Those fifth-year and above had remained, however, consigned to a doom of essays and reading assignments in preparation for OWLs and NEWTs, the standardized tests that determined any witch or wizard's future. Even sixth years—who had no such major academic trials but needed to redouble their efforts to prepare for the dreaded NEWTs at the end of seventh year—were revising and cramming every iota of information they were able.
One girl had already gone catatonic, hunched back into her chair and staring unseeingly out the window while wondering aloud if life as a muggle would be so bad.
"Poor dear," Marietta muttered with a look at her. "I heard she didn't make the grade for NEWT-level Potions, and now she's having rather an existential crisis."
Marietta Edgecombe—the third of their little group—was kind enough if a bit abrasive at times. She was part of Hermione's social life by virtue of the simple fact that she was friends with Cho for reasons of which Hermione wasn't entirely sure. Still, she was here to stay, and Hermione couldn't deny that she was an excellent and dedicated study partner. Her somewhat narrow face was framed by long curly locks of strawberry blonde hair, and her heavy eyebrows gave her a constantly skeptical expression that rather suited her, in Hermione's opinion.
She was the most permanent fixture in Cho's social life apart from Hermione herself; Cho also kept up a robust circle of acquaintances, all of them the giggly and vapid sort of girl that Hermione…rather didn't enjoy spending time with. When Cho let herself get roped into outings with them, Hermione retreated to the library.
Of course, Cho, being pretty and slightly freckly and with long sleek black hair and gorgeous cinnamon brown eyes (the same color as Hermione's but somehow much prettier), was bound to attract equally pretty friends and hangers-on to gossip and giggle and gush over boys. This was something Hermione was, to her shame, a bit bitter over at times—but Cho insisted that Hermione and Marietta were her "very best friends".
"D'you suppose there was something subconscious happening?" Cho asked, seemingly apropos of nothing.
"…What?" Marietta blurted. "Context, please, Cho."
"At the match today," Cho went on, and Marietta sighed.
"Oh, for goodness's sake," she grumbled. "Not still going on about that, are you?"
"All I'm saying is, maybe I knew on an unconscious level that Cedric would have wanted to win, and I was trying to butter him up to get him to like me even more?" Cho suggested.
"Cho," Marietta said in flat tones. "Cedric was the opposing team's seeker. Of course he wanted to win. That doesn't take any subconscious intuition to realize; it's literally the point of the game."
"Well…good point," Cho muttered.
"I think what Cho means to say is, subconsciously, she wanted Cedric to win and be happy, and so without meaning to, she didn't play at her best," Hermione pointed out. "Which is possible; emotions can really muck with your game."
"Yeah, that," Cho said with a gesture at Hermione. "Hermione, you're so good with words."
"I do know quite a few of them," Hermione admitted.
"Cho!" a voice chirped out, and they all glanced up to see Padma Patil striding up, followed by Lisa Turpin Mandy Brocklehurst. Padma wore a bright smile as she paused near Cho's seat. "Hey. Just wanted to say thank you so much for telling me about that conditioner!"
"Oh!" Cho said. "It worked out well for you, then?"
"Feel how soft my hair is now," Padma said, sweeping her plait of onyx hair forward for Cho to run her fingers through.
"It's lovely," she said admiringly. "I told you."
"Oh, Hermione," Padma said, flipping her hair back and running her fingers through it. "Just so you know, my sister's fixing to track you down tomorrow and grill you over your little chat with Harry today."
"With—wait, with Harry?" Cho asked, her gaze now fixing curiously on Hermione. "Harry Potter? The Gryffindor seeker?"
"He was chatting with Hermione at the game today," Padma said as though Hermione weren't even there. "He never talks to people, Parvati says."
"That's intriguing," Cho said with a small smile. "I wonder what he wanted."
If you only knew, Hermione mused. "He just happened to sit next to me and wanted a chat," she shrugged.
"Well, Parvati is going to want to know exactly what you did to get his attention," Padma said. "So, be ready for that."
"I didn't do anything," Hermione huffed. "He just wanted – " She fell silent, realizing Harry would very likely not want his crush known not only to Cho herself but to the biggest gossip in Ravenclaw. It would be all over the school before lunch. "He was looking for tips on how to fly well. He knows I've been coaching you, Cho."
"You didn't give away any trade secrets, did you?" Cho asked with a frown, and Hermione scoffed.
"I would never," she insisted. "Anyway, his flying style doesn't match my coaching practices at all, so we just wound up chatting about this and that."
"About what and what, though?" Padma pressed.
"Why is it so absolutely important to know?" Hermione shot back.
"Because Harry never talks to anyone," Lisa said. "He's a recluse."
"And he's handsome," Mandy cooed.
"And he's a seeker," Lisa added. "Seekers are mysterious. Emblematic."
"Enigmatic," Hermione corrected her.
"Whatever," Padma said. "The point is, you've done something to attract his attention and keep it, and Parvati is going to want to know."
"Well, she's quite free to want all day long," Hermione huffed. "I expect she'll need to get used to disappointment. What Harry and I were discussing is our business, no one else's, and frankly inconsequential anyway. He's a boy, not some puzzle for her to puzzle over."
"Alright, well, just letting you know that Parvati's likely going to corner you tomorrow, and I can see she's going to really regret that," Padma said with a dubious smile. "I'm off to bed, then."
"'Night, Padma," Cho said, and Marietta made a sound from where she'd retreated behind a book, apparently bored with the proceedings.
"Goodnight, Padma," Hermione said. "…Sorry for…rather going off on you."
"It's okay, I'm quite accustomed to how very passionate you can be," Padma said with a wink. "I expect Parvati will be, at least."
She bade them one last goodnight, and the three fourth-year girls retreated upstairs.
"Harry Potter, hm?" Cho mused.
"I suppose he is rather dashing," Hermione said, wondering if she could plant the idea in her friend's head of Harry being an eligible sort. Did she even want to? Her own burgeoning feelings were causing her some confusion, but she also felt some obligation to help out her new…friend? What did Harry Potter even qualify as?
Well, whatever the case, it didn't seem to matter; Cho utterly misread her intentions anyway.
"Oh, do you think so?" she asked. "You've never really shown an interest in anyone before."
"I'm—that is not the case at – "
"You're into Potter?" Marietta asked. "That's surprising. He doesn't seem your type."
"I wasn't even aware that Hermione had a type," Cho said incredulously. "You always seem too invested in your studies and whatnot to make time for boys."
"I'm hardly some unromantic bookworm," Hermione muttered a bit defensively, and Cho smiled at her.
"No, I wasn't saying that, I promise!" she insisted. "If Harry's your type, he'd be lucky to have you."
This conversation had gone wildly off course.
"All I said was that he's somewhat dashing," Hermione insisted. "It was an observation, not some blushing confession of love."
"Okay, okay," Cho said with a small laugh. "Subject dropped."
"For now," Marietta added, eyeing Hermione mirthfully from behind the cover of her book.
Oh, lovely.
000
The promised inquisition from Parvati Patil happened shockingly early, before Hermione had even made it into the Great Hall for breakfast the very next day. As she was crossing the Entrance Hall, a voice called out.
"Hermione! Hey, Hermione Granger!"
It sounded almost like Padma, though she could hear that either Parvati's voice was a degree or so higher or she was pitching her voice up for some girlish reason Hermione couldn't fathom. Either way, Hermione heaved a small sigh, resigned to her fate, and paused near the hourglasses tallying the house points.
"Good morning," she said. "You're Padma's sister? Parvati?"
"Yeah," Parvati said, hurrying up with another girl in tow. This one was blonde with bright blue eyes and the sort of knowing smile that set Hermione's teeth on edge. A gossip, a collector of rumors and hearsay who loved nothing more than to know things people didn't want her to and to parrot those things around so as to soak up that momentary high of being the one "in the know".
Hermione hadn't even learned her name, and she already didn't like the girl.
"So, I heard you and Harry Potter were getting pretty close at the quidditch game yesterday," Parvati spoke.
"Laughing and giggling and stuff," her blonde friend added.
"We were just wondering what exactly you talked about," Parvati said.
"Oh, this and that," Hermione said with an airy wave of her hand. Parvati didn't seem overly satisfied with that answer, a small pout puckering at her mouth.
"Yes, but what specifically?" she pressed.
"Why is it so important that you know?" Hermione countered. "It was a private conversation."
"Because Harry never talks to anyone," the other girl said. "He's quite the recluse."
"And he's handsome," Parvati pointed out, as though that made all the difference in the world. "It would be nice to know a bit more about him, I suppose."
"So because you think he's good-looking, that gives you the right to violate his privacy?" Hermione questioned, glancing at the blonde girl. "I do apologize, but what is your name?"
"Lavender Brown," the girl replied.
"Lavender," Hermione said. "Lovely to meet you, by the way. Now, both of you, conversations that are had between two people are had with the expectation that the contents of those conversations will remain private. It's no concern of yours what Harry and I spoke about, and it's no business of yours to go rooting around and trying to find out. And to act like you're entitled to know is entirely inappropriate and arrogant."
"We've been trying to get to know Harry for years, and he just walks right up to you?" Lavender spat.
"Yes, he did," Hermione said back. "Again, I don't understand why this is at all your business, either. Now, I'm going to have some breakfast and a cup of tea with – "
"Oi, Granger," a boy's voice spoke, and all three looked to see Harry approaching. Hermione couldn't stop the small thud in her chest as she met those alarmingly green eyes of his, but she hopefully schooled her features into quite a casual smile. Harry strode right past the two gossips and paused near her with his hands in his pockets. "Uh…got any plans after breakfast?"
"…I don't," Hermione said, following him now as he ambled toward the Great Hall. "I'm actually all caught up on my homework."
Of course, that wasn't entirely true, but her third draft of the Potions essay due next week could surely wait.
Goodness, what was this boy doing to her?
"Would you like to, uh…meet up after?" Harry asked her. "Only I could use some help with my Arithmancy homework, and…well, you Ravenclaws are all swotty types, right?"
"You sure know how to flatter a girl," Hermione told him flatly, and he shrugged in a helpless way, flashing her that half-crooked smile again.
"It's a gift, I tell you," he said. "Help me out, please? I'm down to an 'A', and if I bring that home to Mum for Christmas, she'll start getting on my case about the quidditch team interfering with my studies."
"Is it?" Hermione asked him with an arched eyebrow, and the boy huffed at her as they paused near the door to the Great Hall.
"Hardly," he said. "Quidditch gives me a chance to decompress. It's why my grades are falling; less practice, less time to get out and fly."
"Is that the excuse?" Hermione asked him with an impish smile, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"You and Mum would get along famously," he muttered.
"And this isn't all some ploy to get into Cho's good graces?" Hermione asked him, folding her arms. Harry had the good grace to look abashed at her claim.
"Alright, full disclosure, that crossed my mind," he admitted. "But—I really do need your help. You're top of your year, some people even say you might be the smartest girl in all of Hogwarts."
"Okay, you do know how to flatter a girl," Hermione said with a small laugh. "Fine, then, I suppose I could help you out. Should we meet in the library?"
"Couldn't we perhaps find somewhere less sleep-inducing?" Harry suggested, and Hermione let a gasp of mock affront.
"You would insult my most favorite place in Hogwarts?" she asked him with her hands on her hips. "Then how about the lounge on the second floor? Does that sound less dreadfully boring?"
"Significantly," Harry said. "Thank for being willing to lower yourself to mingling with the rabble."
Hermione smirked at him. "I'm simply too kind for my own good is all."
"I won't tell anyone," Harry insisted. "I suppose I'll see you there?"
"Save me a seat near the fire, won't you?" Hermione asked him, feeling her heart giving a few steady thuds in her chest as she watched him back away and send her a mocking salute before hurrying off. Ignoring the glowering looks being sent her way from Parvati and Lavender, Hermione turned and headed into the Great Hall, chiding herself.
She was in so much trouble.
