Note: Hello people! Thank you for your reviews! Someone pointed out the age difference between Tom and Bellatrix and I confess it didn't cross my mind when I started writing, so, for the sake of the story - and it being an AU we can go wild with it - let's imagine Tom Riddle is thirteen years younger than he's supposed to be, okay? He should be 78, but he's 65 and Bellatrix continues to be 54.

November 8th, 2005

Ministry of Magic

His head hurts. Is his opinion, Hermione is crazy for making them arrive this hour at the Ministry. He knows they need to investigate what happened at the Fair, but is it really necessary to wake up two hours earlier? He grunts as he walks through the empty Atrium. I need coffee. Real coffee. Harry found out the Ministry actually has a cafeteria. It's a pretty decent cafeteria, but the coffee sucks. He misses his Italian espressos.

The place is empty and he walks inside with purpose. Sighing, he proceeds to brew some coffee. Harry leans on a counter while he waits. Closing his eyes he presses a few fingers to his forehead and temple. He knows there's a long day ahead of him.

"Headache?"

Harry opens his eyes to face Draco Malfoy. The blond man has a curious expression and Harry frowns. Malfoy thinks he shouldn't be there, Harry knows this, even if the man doesn't say it with all the words.

"Yes. Went to bed late last night."

Malfoy opens a sly smile. "Female company?"

Harry tilts his head while he fetches his coffee. "Maybe." He was talking with Sally Black through the fireplace. Harry is discovering he really enjoys her company.

"Really? Going to be all mysterious about it?"

Harry doesn't answer but his eyes follow Malfoy as the man grabs a sandwich and some tea. Narrowing his eyes he asks, "Why are you being nice to me?" It's a genuine question.

Malfoy actually laughs out loud. "Look, if it was up to me you wouldn't be here, D'Angelo, but since it's not and I have to work with you," He shrugs, "why not? I respect my fellow Aurors, okay?"

Harry snorts. "Yeah, okay."

"And…" Malfoy makes a pained face, "You saved Hermione." Harry widens his eyes. "She… she helped me a lot in our years at Hogwarts and-" Malfoy seems to realize that he's sharing too much with a foreigner and clears his throat. "She's our boss. We need her. You did good, D'Angelo." He pats Harry's shoulder while walking away. "Don't take too long to go to her office, I'm sure she's already waiting for us! In Hermione's eyes we're already late."

Malfoy was right. Hermione complained about him being late and Harry was truly surprised that when he entered her office, Ron, Ginny, Malfoy and Pettigrew were already there reading files and taking notes. He settled himself on a comfortable chair at the corner. Her office is very much like any other, but after hours of reading inside, Harry realized something was making his stomach uncomfortable: Hermione's perfume. The office reeks of it.

Pressing a hand against his mouth, in a murmur he performed a simple spell to keep his breathing odorless. He felt immense relief after that.

Their morning was uneventful, though. Hermione found it better if they read all the transcriptions gathered by Aurors from witnesses after the attack ended. Harry doesn't agree with this line of work but he said nothing, however he's sure his face did because Hermione squinted at him.

They stopped for lunch and Harry was more than happy to leave the office for an hour. He had a nice salad at a magical restaurant near the Ministry. When he went back, the place was erupting with its daily movement and after fetching another huge jug of coffee he went back to Hermione's office.

Ginny was the one who finally broke his concentration when she sat by his side.

"Tell me." She says. "Aren't you getting a heart attack from all this coffee you're drinking?"

He chuckles. "To be honest I'm taking it easy today." He says with his eyes going back to what he's reading.

"Are you interested in Sally Black?"

He widens his eyes at her and is painfully aware that the others are listening to their conversation. He opens a side smile. "Why do you ask?"

"It happens that she's a good friend of mine, D'Angelo."

"Really?"

"Really. And I have no idea what you've done, but she's fascinated by you." Ginny is blunt and he chokes a bit on his coffee.

Hermione clears her throat and raises her head. "Ginny. Not the time or occasion for this." Harry purses his lips at the sharpness in her tone.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. I can't read a single line anymore." Ginny throws her file on the couch and grunts.

"Me neither." Ron agrees and yawns. Malfoy does the same.

Pettigrew and Hermione - who are sitting side by side behind her desk - frown at them. Harry lowers his file and waits.

Hermione sighs. "Fine. Let's take a break, then." Harry looks at his watch. They still have an hour before they can leave.

"Amazing!" Ginny says and turns to him again. "So, Sally." She prods him to say something with her hand. Harry opens and closes his mouth and look at the others. Ron and Malfoy are talking about Quidditch and Pettigrew is reading his file. Hermione is writing something down.

"What do you wanna know?" He asks in a defeated manner. Ginny opens a huge smile, eager to gossip.

"Are you really interested?"

He purses his lips and looks down. Am I? He knows that whatever he says to Ginny will be taken seriously. For his plan, marrying a Black is the best outcome possible. But deep down he's not comfortable with it. At all.

"Well, we're giving ourselves a chance to know each other better."

Ginny giggles. "Oh, I know. She told me everything about it. The late nights talks and such. I think she'll invite you for dinner at her house."

Harry raises an eyebrow. A chance to meet the Blacks. He smiles. "I would love to. I hope she does."

"I have to say, Harry. I've never seen Sally this excited about a man before."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I mean," Ginny lowers her voice, but it won't make a difference, they're all hearing their conversation, "she's not a big fan of the whole arranged marriage thing." Ginny shrugs and Harry's smile widens. Maybe Sally is just what he needs.

"Well, Ginny, I have to say that," He also lowers his voice and leans a bit, "I'm not a big fan either." He scrunches his nose and they share a laugh. "Maybe we're the perfect match."

"Are you two done?" Hermione is looking at them. And he's sure that if looks could kill, they would be dead. Pressing his lips together he crosses his arms and locks his eyes with hers. Something passes between them. "Back to work." Hermione says in a final tone and lowers her head to resume her writing when-

"Hermione," Harry says, "I think we've read enough for today."

Slowly and calmly she puts her quill down and stares at him. Pettigrew moves and says, "Who do you think you are-"

"Asmo." She raises a hand and he stops talking but keeps glaring at Harry. "So, D'Angelo, you think we should stop?"

"I think we should be out on the field. Investigating the site. We were there. We should be the ones talking to these witnesses," He lifts the file from his lap, "these are just cold words. If someone was involved we only would be able to tell by talking to said person, looking into their eyes, noticing their nervous tells." He throws the file on a couch. "There's no information here, nothing we can actually work with and you know that, Miss Riddle."

She purses her lips, her eyes going down and then back to his. "I think you should leave then, D'Angelo. If the way I conduct things doesn't please you, maybe you should just go home." He shakes his head. "In Italy." She ends her phrase.

Harry wished it didn't hurt as much as it does.

He stands from the chair and pockets his hands with a snort. "If that's what you want, boss, so be it."

And without another word he leaves the office and walks fast to an exit. He knows he came to London for a reason, but he shouldn't take this kind of bullshit all the time. He's right and maybe Hermione is too stubborn to admit it, maybe she's used to doing things her way - behind a desk, mostly - but that was not how he acted as Head Auror. Harry was always pushing himself and going after the action. There's a kind of knowledge you can only get from talking to others, from understanding people, observing them.

He sets his jaw and apparates to the park. There's a protection made by Aurors around it, but Harry goes right through it. He steps inside where the Fair took place. He knows exactly where Hermione was standing when he tackled her. For a brief moment his eyes are glued on the floor. If he hadn't moved, she would be dead now. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

He shouldn't care this much about a bunch of snotty Purebloods being murdered, but he can't help it. As someone who learned to protect civilians and guard the society it feels like second nature to him. Yes, he wants to bring them down, but he knows most wizards and witches only abide by the rules. He's certain many didn't deserve to die and leave behind their loved ones. And surely it's not with this kind of action that Muggleborns will claim their rights. If anything, people will be even more scared of them.

He starts walking around, his feet leading him to the borders of the park, closer to the trees, to the woods around it. The shooters were certainly positioned there, hidden and blending with the surroundings. Harry chews the insides of his cheeks. The Aurors failed on this aspect. They should have led a raid around the place before the Fair even started. But there was no way of knowing. These kind of events are always protected by magical shields, how could they know muggle bullets would be able to go through it?

Harry crosses his arms and ponders about this while he keeps walking. Something is not right. He remembers what happened that night. While he was talking to Hermione at the altar, a woman started screaming. She had been cursed. Harry turns on his heels and goes to the spot they saw said woman hovering and proclaiming the movement's request. What cursed her? Harry doesn't remember reading about it on the file. Did no one interrogate her? He knows most people lose their memories on these cases, but a talk with the woman might be worth it. Malfoy said it also happened at the other far end of the Fair where he was positioned with Ginny and Ron. What about this other cursed person?

Pressing his lips together he thinks about the way the first Pureblood man fell down near them. He was on Harry's peripheral vision but he doesn't remember seeing a red laser targeting the man. Strange. Maybe they should take this memory to a pensive-

Harry freezes on the spot. Someone else is there. The hair on his nape raises and he tightens the grip on his wand. He can tell the person is approaching from the diagonal behind him. He turns fast and utters an 'Expelliarmus'. A shielding spell sends his own away and he lets out a heavy breath when he realizes it's Hermione.

"I could have hurt you!" He says a bit angry.

"You seemed deep in thought. I didn't want to startle you!"

He makes a face at her and she stops in front of him.

"What? Came all this way to sack me formally?"

She tries hiding it, but Harry is sure she smiles. "No." She looks down. "I- When you walked out of the office I told everyone else to go and considered your words for a moment."

He shifts his weight from one foot to another. "And?"

"Look, I know I'm not wrong." Harry scoffs. "It's important to read the files and depositions, it's valuable information!" She exclaims outraged. Harry wets his lips. "But I recognize that you weren't wrong either." She purses her lips as if saying the words takes too much of her. Harry finds himself wanting to smile at her half-assed apology. "Regardless, I'm here because I imagined you would come and I thought we could… think about what happened that night… together."

Harry can't deny he wasn't expecting this at all. She keeps surprising me. He gulps. "Yeah, I guess we can do that."

Her expression doesn't change much but Harry sees a glint in her eyes. Hermione looks around. "So, tell me what you were thinking." They start… strolling through the park.

"Did someone talk to the cursed women?"

Hermione frowns. "Why? They can't remember what happened."

"People always remember something. Even if they weren't paying much attention, I could bet they saw something strange a while before it happened."

She snorts. "You're very sure of your abilities, aren't you?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Of course I am. I used to be Head Auror, you know that."

She stops walking and he stops by her side. "Why wasn't this information on your file?"

He shrugs. "I didn't see a reason to write it down."

"What really made you move here, Harry? I don't know of any Head Auror who would leave his country to work as an inferior in another Ministry."

He has to give her some credit. Hermione is right. "Okay, if you wanna know so damn much," He lets out a long sigh, "It was because of the woman I was in love with." She averts her eyes from his. "She cheated on me and I couldn't handle it, so, I figured moving away would be the easiest solution."

"Well, I'm sorry about that." Is all she says. Harry congratulates himself on opening up about this. Relationship's problems never fail to be a great excuse. Just as he's about to continue, she says, "It's her loss."

He opens a side smile. "Yeah? I'm irresistible, I've heard." He tries being nonchalant about it but his heart is pounding.

The blush comes up her neck, but Hermione rolls her eyes. "So, we should investigate the cursed women. What else?"

"Well," He motions to the place. "I mean, we failed a bit. We should have looked into the woods before letting people in."

"We thought the place was secure, Harry. The wards and shields were up."

"Exactly. Whoever did this also knew we were counting on these protections alone." He gives her a pointed look.

"What are you implying?"

"You know."

She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. "No. I can't-"

"You know I'm right, Hermione. Someone from the inside must be a traitor." She shakes her head. "And if I'm not mistaken, this person probably enchanted all the bullets with a counter spell to the shields."

"You're making serious accusations here, Harry."

He shrugs. "Not really. But I would consider this option."

"Do you know what our law states for those who kill Purebloods?" He knows but he stays silent. "A Dementor's kiss."

He clicks his tongue. "Not just that but…"

"What?"

"Well," Harry looks down, unsure of how to say this, "they tried to kill you." He states, she makes a face at him, not getting his point. "But, why you? I mean, there were many Aurors here. The Minister himself."

"You think it's something personal?"

"Could be."

She bites her thumbnail and a wrinkle appears between her brows.

"I get your point." Her voice is low now. "We'll search the park and the woods around tomorrow. Later we can think together who should interrogate the cursed women and other witnesses." She keeps looking down, lost in thought.

Harry is surprised she actually listened to him and took his advice. That's what being a good leader means. And again his brain has a difficult time associating her with Tom Riddle.

"And you're going to help me find out who might want to murder me."

He opens and closes his mouth. Guess it wouldn't be a good idea to tell her I'm here with this specific purpose. Harry nods and says:

"I think we should also continue to read the transcriptions we already have. If there's a traitor inside, maybe this person tampered with evidence. It would be good to compare what we already have with what we might get."

"Are you admitting it's important to read the files? That I was right?"

He is. "You'll never know." Harry shrugs and Hermione smiles.

"Okay. I need to go now, meet me later at my house?" He is taken aback by her words. Her house? What? "The dancing lessons, Harry." He opens his mouth, catching up. "Did you forget? Well, if you have something else to do it's fine-"

"No, no. I'll be there."

She squints and conjures up a piece of paper with her address, the apparition coordinates on it. "Be there at seven?" He nods and she looks at him one last time before apparating.

Chewing the insides of his cheeks, he stares at the paper. Trying his best not to think how well they work together, he focus on the fact that now he has Tom Riddle's daughter's address. And that's a huge thing for my plan. She'll welcome me into her house. And the more she trusts him, the easiest it will be to end her later.

Hermione's house

He arrives five minutes late because he was still deciding if this was a good idea or not, but just as something made him save her, it made him apparate to her front door. Harry knocks and waits. The house doesn't look big or ostentatious. It's clearly a place comfortable enough for a single woman. Which makes him wonder again why she's still not married.

Since Ron told him about Hermione and the house she was sorted into at Hogwarts, Harry's been thinking about investigating her for real, and after the way she dismissed him and then recognized she might be wrong, his curiosity about her increased by a thousand.

Just before coming, Harry fumbled through the many articles, interviews and transcriptions he has about Tom Riddle. His focus on Hermione. His eyes browsed the pages and papers, his finger going through the words and searching for her name or even the word 'daughter'.

He was already frustrated when he reached for the last piece of paper. It's no surprise he knew close to nothing about her. The only information he could find was an old article about Riddle's Manor and how he lived there with his wife and daughter of five born on September 19, 1979. Harry looked at the date and realized she'd just turned twenty-six.

It's clear that Riddle's been hiding anything related to her. But why? Father's protection? Or is he hiding something else?

He runs a hand through his hair and Hermione opens the door. When he looks at her he decides that if he wants to know anything about her, he'll have to ask. He'll have to actually be her friend. He opens a sincere smile and she does the same, stepping aside for him to come in.

The house is comfy and just the right size. Harry likes it immediately, as if its warmness can send away any fears and doubts. Every corner has something that shows off her personality. A magical lamp, comfortable furniture, many moving photos, and a white fireplace. But what really makes him widen his eyes is the fluffy orange cat that comes strolling slowly towards him.

"You have a cat." He states, amused.

"Do I? I haven't noticed until now." She jokes and he makes a face at her.

"Will it scratch me if I try petting it?"

She crosses her arms. "First of all, Crookshanks is a family member, so it's a he, not an it." Harry tilts his head.

"What kind of name is Crookshanks?" He chuckles.

"One that I like." She shrugs. "And answering your question, he might scratch you, yes. He's very moody and picky about the humans he interacts with. I mean, he only accepted Asmo's presence recently."

Harry doesn't react when he hears Pettigrew's name, but he crouches and calls the cat. Hermione scoffs as if knowing he's being stupid. But she literally gasps when the cat purrs for Harry, his body going to his extended left hand.

"What?" She whispers.

Harry looks up at her and fetches the cat, standing. "I'm the best person you'll ever know, Hermione, you just didn't accept it yet." He teases her and she clicks her tongue, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I trust Crookshanks' judgment." She narrows her eyes. "Come."

And Hermione guides him to the attic. It's spacious and well lit, good enough for them to dance freely. He stands at the entrance while she prepares the music.

"Are you standing there?" She asks, not turning to him, still checking on the magical gramophone. "I won't bite, you know?"

He gulps and releases Crookshanks, his feet guiding him to the center of the room. There's a huge image engraved into the wooden floor bellow him. Harry frowns. It's a snake eating its own tail, forming an eternal circle. He presses his lips together, the image is strong and imposing, beautiful in a frightening way… much like Hermione.

"Uroboros."

"What?" He blinks, not understanding what she's saying.

"It's a symbol." She points to the floor. "It represents the eternal cycle of destruction and rebirth. Life."

He chews the insides of his cheeks, considering. "It's a nice concept." He admits, still dazzled by it.

"It is." She stops in front of him and he raises his eyes to her, the reason why he's there coming back to him. She smiles. "Ready?"

"I- I don't normally do this."

"What? Dancing?" He nods, his throat dry. "Why?"

"I have two left feet."

She laughs. He blinks. Her laugh is so… warm.

"Don't worry, we'll fix this."

While she does her best to avoid his eyes, Harry wonders if she's regretting her offer. Dancing involves physical contact, proximity and some kind of intimacy… but she looks back up at him, confident.

"I guess we should…" Without finishing her sentence, she waves her wand and her simple jeans and blouse change to a nice long dress. It's blue and simple, covering her shoulders and without a cleavage. He wonders if she'll change his attire, but the only thing she does is change his heavy boots to classy shoes. She opens a side smile and Harry nods in approval.

Hermione breathes heavily and the song starts at the background. Not too loud. They finally lock eyes.

"Do you know anything about this dance?" She asks.

"Not really." He knows a few things.

"Well," She begins, "it's not exactly a waltz, but it doesn't come close to anything else, really. It's more a mixture of styles." Harry is listening carefully. "We sometimes move as if waltzing, others we move separately. This dance is a tradition among wizards and witches of the so called high birth society. It's practically obligatory in many Balls and encounters-"

"Why?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Why what?"

"Why throw these Balls?" He pockets his hands, "The last time I attended one was seven years ago. My family used to host many of these gatherings, but…" He hesitates. She encourages him with a tilt of the head, "It came a time my grandfather decided they had no purpose and stopped hosting. He never took me to another either." Harry shrugs and gulps, looking down.

"Really?" Her voice is soft. Hermione clears her throat. "Usually these Balls have the purpose of… promoting arranged marriages. In this aspect your grandfather was right. You don't have arranged marriages in Italy, so, why?" She shrugs. "But here is kind of a big deal. These Balls boost high society." Harry sees her pursing her lips. "It's an opportunity to create strong and lasting alliances. And the dance is a demonstration of power since we perform one of the most challenging spells in the middle of it."

"One you can do perfectly well, I gather." He teases.

She smirks. "A corporeal Patronus is not an easy task, not just that but we have to make it dance with us from the middle until the end. It requires a lot of practice, control and... letting go at the same time. You'll be amazed by how many wizards and witches won't be able to go through with it."

"Is that so? I didn't think your father would allow any mediocre wizard or witch inside his house."

Hermione frowns. "Why would you think that?" She doesn't let him answer as she goes on. "I know he can be strict and rigid, but he has the best intentions, he wants this society to strive." She stops at that and they share an intense look.

Apart from the music on the background, there's only silence now. Harry doesn't really know if he should say something or even if he's capable of it. He fears he might open his mouth and tell her that her father is nothing but a murderer.

But Hermione breaks the silence. "Shall we begin?" Her voice comes out strange. He regrets his words. Her expression changed from a welcoming one to pure coldness. She has to trust him. If Hermione suspects he has something against her father, she won't hesitate in reaching out and banishing Harry from England.

He nods.

"It begins pretty simple." Her voice is low now. "We begin in front of each other, as we are now, and the man is the first one to step forward and salute the woman. Then he goes back to his spot."

"Okay… that can't be too hard, I guess." He takes a step forward and… with his eyes on hers he slightly bows. "Like this?"

"Yes."

Ignoring her tone, he straightens and steps back to his spot. Her eyes never leave his when she takes her step and bows. It makes his pulse quickens.

"Easy, right?" She asks. "After this we have to move four times to meet sideways at the center. We'll join raised hands as we do it."

"Okay, what should I do with my feet?" He asks sincerely and she laughs.

"You use them to move forward." He makes a face at her. "Your right hand on my right hand, your right foot in front of your left and then it changes. It's easier if we do it."

Hermione moves forward with her right leg and hand. Harry mimics her motion and their palms touch gently, their faces close as they come to the center. "Good. Now go back and do the same with the left." As they do it he can't help noticing how smoothly she moves while he looks like a fool. Harry feels a tingle when their left palms touch. Hermione frowns. Did she feel it too? What is it? He has no idea, but it's nice. "Again." She says and moves back for their right hands to meet at the center. There's no tingle now. "The other side." The tingle is back when their left palms touch. Ma che? She sets her jaw. "We have to do it faster, following the music." Harry nods and they repeat the action, he's as clumsy as hell, but she does it without effort. Hermione smiles. "Again."

They repeat it at least five times until Harry stops fumbling with his own feet. Every time they touched left hands he felt the tingle. It bothers him. It must mean something. But what? He just met Hermione.

"Okay, after this we have to move around in circles. The men walk on the outside and women on the inside one turn, then when we meet again, we have to change, women walk on the outside and men inside. We have to do it four times. But it's not just any walk, it's a purposeful walk."

"Purposeful walk?"

"Yeah. The first part, the greet and the joining of hands is just a way of falling in rhythm with your partner. And the circles represent a loss, you've lost touch of that person and you're looking for them, searching, yearning."

He presses his lips together and nods. Hermione raises her wand again and many dark shapes appear around them.

"They'll represent other people." She explains. "Each goes to its own right."

They wait for the music to be exactly on point and Harry moves, the shapes moving with him in a circle. Hermione is walking gracefully and she really seems like someone looking for something. Harry thinks about meeting her half way and his walk is faster… purposeful. When they reach each other, they share a look and move instinctively past the other, changing circles. The shapes around both follow the motion with incredible ease.

"Remember to always keep your head high and your hands together behind your back." He obeys her and they meet again, changing circles. "We will change one more time." She says as they approach each other again. "And then we'll stop and conjure our Patronus."

He frowns. "Are we taking our wands out in the middle of the dance and yelling the spell?" He pictures all guests doing that. It doesn't seem like a viable option. Hermione laughs.

They stop. "This part was easy." She says referring to the circle. All the shapes disappear. "And to answer your question… many do it without verbalizing the spell, but the ideal, the real way to do it, is not this one. You see, the Patronus is considered a manifestation of the soul, of our most pure magic. If that's so, we should be able to do it without needing a wand."

And just as she finishes, she moves both hands. It takes Harry a moment to understand that she just conjured up her Patronus. However, how effortless it was for her to do it in silence and without a wand is not what makes him step back in surprise.

There's a huge snake, a serpent, around her shoulders. He gulps. It's her Patronus. Why do I keep forgetting who she truly is?

"How- why- how?"

She laughs at him. He blinks. "Impressed?"

"Very." He says in a low voice and her chest goes up and down fast.

"It's not that hard." She states. "It might take a day or two, but I'm almost sure you'll be able to do it."

He tilts his head and extends his hand, fascinated by the snake. "She's beautiful." He widens his eyes at his own words. Hermione fully blushes and looks down.

"But she's double-hearted, you know?" Her voice is a whisper.

Harry realizes just how close they are. The hand which was going to the snake, changes course and pushes a few strand hairs behind Hermione's ear. They barely breath as they share the moment. He has no idea what the hell he's thinking.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

"I don't know."

Both set their jaws, unsure. His hand is still there, in the air, close to her ear. He boldly moves it to cup her neck, his thumb on her jaw. He's sure Hermione shudders under his touch. The snake moves and tangles herself on his forearm. Harry's heart is beating like a crazy drum. What am I doing? She's not stopping him, though. His thumb caresses her face, gently, softly… fondly. The snake tightens its grip. He barely gives it any attention. He's fascinated by Hermione, by her eyes and mouth. The snake hisses at him, its head getting closer to his shoulder.

In her turn, Hermione finally moves and her hand stops at his chest, resting above his heart. Harry can see pain in her eyes but he doesn't understand. His fingers go into her hair. Even with everything, the moment isn't awkward. At all. They seem to be making questions to one another, asking for… permission? Acceptance?

He should hate her.

But he doesn't.

Abruptly the snake opens its mouth and scares Harry away with a sudden attack. He gasps for air when he steps back. Hermione blinks a few times and the snake is gone. She opens her mouth.

"We-" She clears her throat. "We can practice the final part another day."

She turns from him and walks to the magical gramophone. The music stops. Harry has both hands on his knees, supporting him. The snake really scared the shit out of him. Double-hearted indeed.

"You should go, Harry."

Sighing, he agrees. Hermione still has her back to him. "Yeah, sure. It's getting pretty late." He clears his throat. "Just… how do I do it? The Patronus?"

She finally turns to him, her expression is one of pure calm. "The wand is just an extension of your magic. And the words are inside our heads. I'm sure you've already performed spells without voicing them." He nods. "So, the only thing you need to think is that the magic is one with you, the wand helps channel it, but it's not fundamental."

He scoffs. "Not fundamental?"

"Not really."

He clasps his hands together. "Okay. I'll try it." She nods. "And… thank you, for the lesson." He moves his hand around and she nods again.

"Anytime."

And on this awkward note he leaves.

Note: Next chapter we get to know a little more about Harry's past and upbringing in Italy! And also, more investigation.