Love from, Hermione by Demosthenes

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 08/09/2004
Last Updated: 09/09/2004
Status: Completed

Written in response to the 'Learning to Cope' challenge. In their sixth year, Harry
discovers that Hermione's been writing him secret letters since they first met. What does he
discover about her, and himself, that's got him so ill at ease? And what will Hermione do when
she finds out he's been going through her extremely personal, extremely private, things?




1. Letters
----------

Aw hell... it's my first fic ever and I've already managed to screw up the disclaimer!
Okay, you know the drill. Blah blah blah, I don't own them, blah blah blah, no money, not a
cent. Hell, even the plot isn't mine... it's a challenge fic. Please review... if you
don't tell me what I'm doing wrong, how on earth am I ever going to learn?

Enjoy!

*****

"I wonder how warm it is outside? It certainly looks warm. And just look at how clear the
sky is today! Look at all those firsties flying around out there! You know, this'd be a perfect
time to go out on the pitch and..."

*"Conjuctiva!"*

Ron's eyes suddenly became thick with goo, then began to crust shut. Harry glanced up from
the large table they shared and his Transfiguration assignment, then gave an 'ugh' of
disgust. A handful of first and second years throughout the common room looked up and gave similar
'ewwws' and 'ucks' of their own.

"Aw, bloody HELL Hermione! What'd you go and do that for?!" Ron tried to rub the
muck from his eyes.

"Because *you* won't stop staring out that window! Now we all agreed to give up a
Hogsmeade Saturday to finish studying! I'm just here to help the both of you, and yet you
can't even be bothered to properly read a book!"

"Will you take this bloody curse off!?"

"No."

"Bloody right you will and... what do you mean 'No'?!

"I'm not taking it off until you promise to actually study like the rest of
us!"

"C'mon Hermione! This isn't funny and... Harry, stop laughing!"

"I'm sorry Ron, but she is right. We did promise."

"Harry," Ron turned his crusty-eyed face towards him. "Can you get rid of
this?"

"Actually, no I can't. I don't know the counter curse. Sorry mate."

"Oh bugger all, neither do I. Okay, Hermione. Please, I'm sorry! This is disgusting,
make it go away!"

"Not until you promise to finish reading that assignment!"

"Alright, alright, I promise! C'mon then!"

Hermione did a semi-circular swish of her wand and removed the curse. Ron continued to rub at
his eyes for a full two minutes, even though all traces of goop had vanished. Hermione was nothing
if not thorough.

"Ugh, that was absolutely revolting! Was that really necessary?"

"Honestly Ron, we did all agree to concentrate on our studies today. Just be glad
that's *all* I did to get your attention." Ron cringed and Harry winced, recognizing
the threat in her tone. "Besides, it's not as if you're the only one who'd rather
be outside today, or in Hogsmeade for that matter. I'm desperate to visit Scrivenshaft's! I
think this quill's about had it!"

Harry and Ron both noticed the parchment she had been writing on was rather blotchy in
places.

"Hermione, I thought you had finished all your homework already?" Harry tried to get a
better look at her parchment, but she suddenly pulled it closer to herself.

"I did," he noticed a blush creeping into her cheeks. "I'm just... I'm
just catching up on some correspondence."

"Oh no! Not another letter to *Vicky*," Ron's voice went falsetto as he said
this.

"Would you *please* stop calling him that! And no, it's not a letter to Vicky...
*urgh*! I mean *Viktor*." She was becoming more and more flustered.

"Alright then, who's the new quill-pal?"

"None of your bloody business!"

Harry was taken aback - it was rare for Hermione to use such language. However, she did seem
rather protective of her letter. Unusually so, he thought. Of course, it occurred to him, that she
was just keeping it to herself because she was mad at Ron.

*'It's probably a letter to her mum, or her dad, or maybe a cousin,'* he
thought. But he suddenly felt a twinge of unease. *'Or maybe she's found another
Krum?*' For some reason he couldn't bring himself to think of the phrase
*'boyfriend'.* He didn't know why, but the thought made him extremely
uncomfortable.

"Ooooh, Hermione's got a *boyfriend!*"

Harry dropped his head into his hands, as his stomach did a nasty turn. He almost convinced
himself it was because of the row about to unfold in full force.

"I HAVE NOT!"

"C'mon then, let's see it!"

"NO!"

"Ron, honestly, that's enough. Let her alone already. I don't think I have it in me
to hear you two break into another full blown barking match!" Harry knew he was playing the
sympathy card on them. They were always so concerned about his well being these days. As
desperately curious as he was about Hermione's correspondent, he didn't know if he really
wanted to find out after all - *especially* if it turned out to be another Krum.

Ron and Hermione both looked at him with a mixture of embarrassment for their behavior, and just
a bit of guilt.

"I was only having her on...," Ron muttered.

"Hmmmph!" Hermione gave Ron a withering look, then muttered a charm to unseal the
carved wooden box on the table that held her writing instruments and rolls of parchment. She sealed
up the bottle of ink she was using and placed it in the box, then moved to put the letter and quill
in as well.

SMACK!

Something large had hit against the tower window.

"What in bloody hell was that?!" Ron rushed to look out the window as Harry and
Hermione looked at each other questioningly, then immediately jumped up and ran to join Ron. The
rest of the younger Gryffindor's rushed to the windows as well, curious to see what the
commotion was.

SPPAAASH!

"Agh! What was that?" A first year was startled as something large and wet smacked
into the window directly in front of her.

The portrait door to the common room opened and Professor McGonagall came rushing in. "Miss
Granger, Mr. Weasley, I need you immediately."

"Professor, what's going on," Hermione asked, as she rushed back to the table to
retrieve her wand.

THUD!

"Someone got the brilliant idea to use water balloons as bludgers to attack the first years
on broomsticks. Madame Hooch is all the way out on the pitch with the Hufflepuffs, so I need some
help in sorting this out. Come along quickly then!"

Ron and Hermione followed her out the portrait hole, followed closely by the rest of the
students in the common room, desperate to see something exciting they could relay to their friends
and upper classmates. Harry alone remained, taking a brief moment to ponder whether this stunt was
'Weasley twins fun and playful', or 'Slytherin mean and nasty.'

He turned to go back to the window, when he noticed that Hermione's parchment was still
lying on the table, her quill now glopping liberal amounts of ink onto the page. Without thinking,
he rushed over to it, removed the quill and dabbed it with a spare bit of cloth to remove the
excess ink. He didn't mean to, but his eye managed to catch a few spare phrases.

*'...no one else seems to know what it's like...'*

*'...only person I could ever talk to...'*

*'...never told anyone before...'*

*'No, no, no... look away now!'* Harry thought to himself. It wasn't any of his
business, really. If Hermione was sharing something personal with... with *someone*, then he
needed to respect her privacy. *'Besides,'* he consoled himself, *'it's
definitely her mum. Who else would she write like that to?'* It had to be her mum,
right?

One more peek couldn't possibly hurt. It wasn't like he was reading the entire
letter...

*'...always felt that there was something more between us...'*

*'Okay, definitely not her mum,'* he thought.

THWACK!

Another water balloon hit the window. Harry ran to to look, his heart hammering in his chest.
The scene outside was chaotic, to say the least. Fat water balloons of many shapes and colors where
whizzing through the air. The few students who were still on broomsticks were trying to find a way
to land and yet avoid getting hit. The students who had left their common rooms to observe the
action where screaming and pointing every time a balloon neared a victim. McGonagall had tried
*'Finite Incantatum'*, which only seemed to increase the number of balloons. At one
point it looked like Ron had tried to freeze a balloon midflight, but had only managed to freeze
the water within, now turning it into a lethal object. Luckily, Hermione noticed immediately, and
happened to save a grateful looking first year.

He glanced again at the parchment. *'They could be out there for a good long
while,'* he reasoned. *'It's not as if she'd ever be the wiser... I mean, what
if it's some new... some new* person (he still couldn't use *that* word) *who was
manipulating her to get to me? What if it were someone evil and nasty who was attempting to bewitch
her mind and ensnare her senses and... when did I start sounding like Snape?'* He shrugged
off the annoying thought, took one more quick look around the room, and picked up the letter. He
didn't notice how his thumb smeared the ink at the end of the last sentence as he unrolled the
parchment.

*23 March 1997*

*My dearest Harry,*

"Me," he whispered into the empty common room. He read it again, just to make
certain.

*23 March 1997*

*My dearest Harry,*

*You know, I believe I've lost count how many times I've brought this up before, and
I'm certain by now you've grown tired of me writing about it, but, seeing how this is the
purpose of these numerous letters I've written over the years...*

'"Numerous?!" He looked into the carved wooden box that she always managed to keep
sealed and noticed that there were, indeed, numerous scrolls tucked in there. Tempting fate, he
pulled some out and began unfurling their tops, looking at the dates of each one. From what he
could gather, there were scrolls in here dating back to their first year. Glancing one more time
around the room, he unrolled the earliest dated scroll he could find and began reading, his
curiosity completely overriding any sense of propriety he had felt earlier.



2. Dear Harry...
----------------

******

*16 June 1992*

*Dear Harry,*

*This seems somewhat strange, I know. But with everything that we've been through in our
first year, I just felt the need to talk with someone. Actually, the truth is, I don't know
that I'll ever send this to you, but my mum once told me that writing can be cathartic (that
means it let's you get a lot of emotions out so you can sort them through properly).*

*I guess the reason I'm writing (or not writing) to you is that I think we share some
similarities, and maybe you'll understand a little more than anyone else would. I mean, Ron
would never understand how strange people thought I was when I was younger. Peculiar things always
managed to happen around me, even more so if I was really sad or angry. I don't know exactly
what it was like for you, but I know when I went to primary school I never really seemed to have
many friends. One time a boy had taken away the new crayons my parents had given me for start of
term, and I cried loudly for him to give them back and somehow managed to make all the bins shoot
out of the cubbies. Later that year I skinned my knee while jumping rope, and I guess I made all
the jump ropes on the playground break. There were so many other things like that during my first
few years of school, and that just managed to make me the biggest outcast. I finally found that the
only thing I could be 'normal' at was studying and being the best in classes. I didn't
really have any friends, but I was always the smartest in school.*

*That's why I was so excited to get my letter. I just knew that if I went to a different
school, where everyone was just as strange as me, that I'd have loads of friends and I
wouldn't be so alone anymore. I remember getting my books and reading as much as I could. I
also remember learning about you, and I can't tell you how excited I was to start school and
maybe even meet you.*

*That's why I was so upset that Halloween night. You see, it wasn't only Ron that had
hurt me. That was just the biggest sign that Hogwarts wasn't going to be that different. No one
really liked me at all, no matter how hard I tried. That's why your friendship, and Ron's,
means so very much to me.*

*I guess the two of you rescued me from more than just a troll that night. I knew that there
was more to schooling than academic achievement, but, for the first time I can remember in a very,
very long time, you showed me what true happiness friendship can bring. I just know you'll be a
brilliant wizard one day Harry, and because you and Ron saved me from my loneliness, I promise,
I'll do everything I can to save you from You Know Who, not just because you're The Boy Who
Lived, but because you're my best friend, and I don't know that I've ever had one
before!*

*Love from,*

*Hermione*

He'd had no idea, ever, that Hermione, despite having a loving family, had been just as
lonely as he had growing up. It also struck him how coming to Hogwarts was nearly as significant to
her as it had been to him.

He concentrated on the noises coming from outside...

SPLORCH!

...and picked up another letter.

*30 May 1993*

*Dearest Harry,*

*We've just had the most exquisite feast, all in our pyjamas no less, and witnessed the
return of Hagrid from Azkaban. I can't tell you how proud I am that you figured out that it was
a baslisk that had been attacking the students. I am so very grateful to you and Ron, but then, you
two always manage to save me. I think this is becoming something of an unsettling trend.*

*As happy as I am right now, well, make that uncomfortable (I really did eat too much at the
feast - you've no idea how hungry one is when they've been petrified!), that's not the
real reason I'm writing. I've come to discover that these letters aren't really ones of
simple gratitude, for I'm certain I've told you time and again how thankful I am (I hope I
have anyway, I'll have to make note of that), I think the real reason for these letters is to
help me process everything I'm going through...*

*You see, when Madame Pomfrey gave me the draught that cured me, I woke up absolutely
terrified. I had discovered it was a basilisk, so I made my way carefully back through the castle,
being certain to warn anyone I found. But the only one I ran into was that Ravenclaw prefect.
Thankfully she had a mirror, and we used it to look around the corners before proceeding down a
hallway. Penelope and I were standing there, and I put the mirror out and...*

Harry noted that there was an unusually large gap in the sentence, and what looked like a small
water stains blurring some of the remaining words.

*...what I saw literally froze me with fear. It was massive, and when I saw it's hideous
yellow eyes, I felt myself going rigid. I have never been so frightened in my life. I tried to
scream, but my vocal chords were solid and I felt like I couldn't breathe and then I felt my
cheeks harden and just as it consumed me, the last thought I had was 'I'm sorry I
couldn't tell you Harry.'*

*I know, it seems overdramatic now that everything's alright, but not only was I
terrified, I felt so much sadness and guilt. I felt as if I had let you down. I should have
realized immediately after we discovered you were a Parselmouth, and I was so afraid that my
failure might cost you your life - especially since I've sworn to do everything I know how to
keep you safe.*

*I was so relieved when Madame Pomfrey told me you had defeated it in the chamber. I only wish
I had been there with you.*

*I'm so sorry.*

*With regrets,*

*Hermione*

Harry leaned back in the chair and let out a loud sigh. How on earth could she possibly feel
that she had let him down? Even in a state of petrification, she had managed to be more brilliant
than himself or any of the other teachers at Hogwarts! And yet, according to this letter, she had
felt like a failure. He suddenly began to understand something... these letters were her deepest
and darkest fears, things that she'd never really share with him. He started to feel the
tiniest twinge of guilt, but then reasoned that if there were more that she was hiding - that she
was feeling, he corrected - then he should know. Only because, if nothing else, he had to reassure
her. He had to let her know that he would never had made it without her. And, some small part of
him realized, she would be none the wiser as to why he'd suddenly grown so insightful to her
feelings. He, for once, would look to be the brilliant one.

And so, with a small pat on the back for being so clever, he was quite surprised by the tone of
her next letter.

*8 February 1994*

*I cannot believe, after everything we've been through, that you would be so unbelievably
cruel! It's been more than a month since I told McGonagall about that stupid broomstick, and
you've already gotten it back for Merlin's sake, but for you to side with Ron about his
stupid rat!! How dare you accuse Crookshanks of trying to eat that tattered old gray turd he calls
a pet! And I thought that you would be big enough to realize that I was only trying to help you
with the Firebolt - but no, you have to take his side! Do you have any idea how much it hurts to
see your two best friends just push you aside as if you meant nothing! DO YOU!*

*You know, I'm glad I never sent you these stupid letters. You don't deserve to know
anything about me if you can't even forgive me for trying to HELP YOU! Do you know what
it's been like for me ever since Christmas? I wake up and go down to the Great Hall, where
I'm suddenly reminded that I don't have my best friends anymore. Ron will sneer at me, and
you'll just remain absolutely indifferent. So then I eat whatever I can manage, than run off to
have, what's becoming, my routine morning bawl in the loo, then try to pretend that
everything's alright and run off to all my classes. Then I'm up all night trying to pass my
courses, and even though I'm absolutely exhausted, I still can't fall asleep unless
I've had my* evening *bawl in the loo!*

*And my classes, you and Ron are so daft you haven't even noticed how many classes I'm
taking. I'm trying to do all this work, not just for me, and you two just... urgh! It's
just infuriating!*

*But that's not the worst of it! No, not remotely! You see, you two morons have been so
wrapped up in bloody stupid things like Quidditch and broomsticks and rats that you've
completely forgotten about poor Hagrid! How's he supposed to help Buckbeak?! Did that ever
cross your mind?*

The time turner had been killing her, he remembered that. She had been short and irritable that
year, and it had been growing steadily worse. But never, in all these years, had he realized just
how much he and Ron had really hurt her.

*I've been going down to see Hagrid almost every night, just so I can have someone to talk
to who doesn't hate me at the moment. He's been really sweet, but you know, he tried to
defend you! Do you want to know how? He told me that you couldn't help siding with Ron because
he's your best mate and you've never had one before. Well, you know how Hagrid is, I just
pretended like I knew what he was talking about, and then he went on and on about your upbringing
and how you'd never had any friends, ever, and how your cousin used to beat you up all the
time. He told me how your aunt and uncle never once told you they loved you, and that they'd
take the occasional swing at you with a frying pan. He said they'd made you do nearly all the
cooking and cleaning, and never gave you any allowance... never once even celebrated your birthday.
Then he told me how they used to lock you in a cupboard. I played along and said 'well, not all
the time,' and then he corrects me and says 'No, it wasn't locked all the time, but I
can't imagine having to live in there like Harry did.'*

*I made some quick excuse and ran back up to the castle, feeling absolutely revolted. I almost
made it, but then I tripped and fell to my knees. I couldn't help it Harry. I threw up right
there on the grounds, I was so disgusted at what they'd done to you, and I sat there sobbing, I
don't know how long, but the moon was already up before I managed to get back to my
feet.*

*I walked into the common room and saw the two of you playing chess at one of the tables. I
wanted to run over to you, to tell you how sorry I was for everything they'd done to you, but
then Ron looked up and made some nasty comment, and you didn't even turn around.*

*I'm surprised you only blew up your aunt. I'm sorry I ever gave you any grief over
that.*

*Why didn't you ever tell me Harry?*

*All my love,*

*Hermione*

Harry felt a bit sick. He had never told either Ron or Hermione the true nature of his
upbringing. Sure, they had known that the Dursleys were rude and could be cruel, but he had been so
ashamed of everything else that he had never been able to tell his friends the *true* details
of their cruelty. He remembered getting irritated with Hermione every now and then when she had
mentioned them - thinking they'd be proud of him for saving the Stone or defeating Riddle and
the baslisk. They hadn't known, and he had never told.

But she had known since third year, and had never said a word.

He noticed some of the commotion from outside had subsided. He ran over to the window and saw
that all the first years were now safely on the ground, but now the balloons began targeting them
like bombs dropped from the sky.

He figured he could risk reading maybe one more. He rifled through frantically, looking for
dates at the top of each scroll.

*1 November 1994* *Dear Harry,* *Ron is completely daft! Of course you
didn't put your name in the goblet...*

*22 December 1994
Dear Harry,* *Ron is stupid git... of course I'm a girl! And yes, I really do have a
date!*

*28 February 1995* *Dear Harry,* *It's only been four days, but
I'm afraid these nightmares about a shark coming for me in the lake will never go
away...*

*25 June 1995
Dearest Harry,
When the time is right, I'll be able to tell you what I did to Rita Skeeter. I know it seems so
inconsequential now, but it's all I can give you...*

*3 July 1995* *Dearest Harry,* *I'm sorry, but Dumbledore says we
can't write you anything relevant. I think it's absolute bullocks!*

*10 July 1995* *Dearest Harry,* *I'll be so glad to finally see you
in a few weeks. I've been so worried...*

*15 July 1995* *Dearest Harry,* *I hope you're well. Dumbledore
won't tell us anything...*

*22 July 1995* *Dearest Harry,* *Ron's an absolute git! Do you know
what he said...*

*25 July 1995* *Dearest Harry,* *I have this horrible feeling
something's going to happen...*

*22 September 1995* *Dearest Harry,* *That Umbridge is a daft cow! How
dare she...*

*24 December 1995* *Dearest Harry,* *I'm sure you're not a bad
kisser...*

*14 February 1995* *Dearest Harry,* *Cho Chang... honestly, what were
you thinking? And I don't trust that friend of hers either!*

Harry couldn't help but laugh. He also noticed it had gotten considerably quiet outside.
Rather than risk getting caught (he couldn't believe the number of letters in that small box)
he figured it best to just finish reading the one she had been writing.

*23 March 1997*

*My dearest Harry,*

*You know, I believe I've lost count how many times I've brought this up before, and
I'm certain by now you've grown tired of me writing about it, but, seeing how this is the
purpose of these numerous letters I've written over the years, well, I've been having that
nightmare again. And this time, when I woke up, I was in real pain. I didn't realize that after
all this time that it could still hurt like this, but, like Madame Pomfrey had warned me, those 10
potions I took when it first happened only repaired most of the damage...*

Harry groaned. He'd had no idea that Hermione was having nightmares about the Department of
Mysteries, or that she was still suffering the after effects. How had he never noticed? He began to
feel sick. It was his fault, like everything else.

*...and I thought I'd grown accustomed to it, but for some reason, today is the worst
it's been in a long time. Thankfully it happened quite early in the morning, and I was able to
sneak off to Madame Pomfrey before either you or Ron had woken up. The last thing you need right
now is to be worrying about either one of us.*

*I don't know what it is, but ever since that horrible night in the Ministry, I've
come to realize that something's been different with you, and I know it's more to do than
what happened to Sirius.*

*It's as if there's this tremendous weight you've been placed under, and although
you've been under so much pressure ever since you realized you were a wizard, with everything
that's expected of The Boy Who Lived, well, I just know there's something else you're
not telling me. I can't bear to bring myself to ask you, because I also have things I've
never told anyone before (like all these ridiculous letters), and I know that someday, when
you're ready, you'll tell me.*

*It's almost funny, because sometimes you seem to be the only person I could ever talk to
about some things. Ron, as loyal and sweet as he is, just doesn't seem to understand things
like you do. I'm not sure why that is. I think I've always felt that there was something
more between us, a deeper connection than friendship. Maybe that's why we seem to understand
each other so well.*

*And no one else seems to know what itÕs like for you, but I think I do, after all these
years. You are the bravest and most gentle person I have ever known. I think it nothing short of a
miracle that you've become this incredible person after how you were raised and all the turmoil
you've faced.*

*I wish I could make everything better for you. I wish you weren't living under the fear
of Voldemort. I wish your parents had lived. I wish you remembered what it was like to be part of a
loving family. I wish Sirius was here. I want all these things for you, and it hurts that I
can't make it better.*

*I've come to realize, after all these years, that I'd do anything to keep you safe
and happy. That's partly why I work so hard all the time. That's why I follow and lead into
danger - because I know I have to be there to help, and it would kill me if I couldn't be with
you.*

*Just once, over the summer, I began telling my mum about all of this. And the funny thing is,
she explained something to me, about the nature of our friendship, that hadn't occurred to me.
The most frightening thing is that I.. I agree with her. It's to do with always wanting your
happiness and safety over my own, no matter how much it may hurt or upset me. You see, she told me
that my feelings, beyond friendship, are quite simply the clearest definition of...*

But whatever it was the 'definition of' was lost on him. That's where her writing
had ended and his smudging had begun. He also could hear the portrait door swinging open.

******



3. Red Handed/Black Thumbed
---------------------------

******

Frantically he began stuffing the scrolls back into the box, then tried desperately to remember
how she had left things arranged. He laid out the newest scroll, half rolled at the top and bottom
as best he could recall, and set the tattered quill so that the point rested over the last word.
Taking a quick look and deciding it was a little too perfect, he readjusted the quill and centered
the box near her corner of the table. Then he grabbed his Transfiguration text and hopped into a
squashy armchair as the students came flooding back in.

Ron and Hermione were the last ones to come climbing back through the portrait hole, both
laughing because they were able to take 50 points away from Slytherin. They walked over to Harry
and began to tell him about everything that had happened outside, when Hermione noticed that her
letter and quill were still on the table next to the box she normally kept sealed with a charm.

Harry watched her as best he could out of the corner of his eye, while still paying attention to
Ron's recount of the water balloon incident. She wiped off the quill with some cloth and fixed
it into the lid. Then she began to roll up the parchment she had been writing on, when something
caught her eye.

Harry began nervously laughing at Ron's story, trying not to sound too obviously guilty,
when he noticed Hermione roll up the scroll and charm the box shut. She then walked slowly over to
join them, her face unreadable.

"Go ahead Hermione, tell him about how you banished that water balloon right into
Goyle's head!" Ron was still laughing and Harry had a nervous smile on his face.

"Let me see your hand Harry." Her voice was deathly quiet, and held just a hint of
menace.

"I'm sorry, my... my hand?"

She ripped the book out of his grasp and threw it to the ground, where it made a loud smack. A
couple of second years jumped and moved away quickly. She then grabbed his right hand, flipped it
over and extended his thumb. The telltale signs of black ink and the smeared, backward impression
of the word *'of'* were deeply embedded in the ridges of his thumbpad. He had
completely forgotten that the ink was still wet when he had first picked up the letter. His face
went deathly pale as hers took on a violent purple hue.

"You had *no* right! How *could* you?" Her voice was still low and much more
menacing now.

"Hermione, what's gotten into you?"

*"STAY OUT OF THIS RON!"*

"Are you mental?!" Ron stared at her in utter confusion, then noticed the sickly look
on Harry's face. He couldn't remember ever seeing his friend so pale.

Just then Professor McGonagall came back into the common room, escorting two cold and wet first
years who had not been so fortunate at escaping the water balloons. She instructed them to quickly
change their clothing before returning outside.

"Professor," Hermione turned to face McGonagall, attempting to look and sound as
normal as possible, "I realize I didn't sign up, but would it be alright if I ran into
Hogsmeade? I'm in desperate need of a new quill."

"Well, it is unusual, but, seeing as how you're a prefect, I suppose there'd be no
harm."

Ron looked as if he were about to ask the same thing, but before he could even try, Hermione cut
him off.

"Thank you Professor. Perhaps you could answer Ron's question about his Transfiguration
homework... I simply haven't been able to explain to him the finer points of chapter
13."

Ron looked at Hermione as if she had grown a second head, then McGonagall turned and asked him
exactly what he was having problems with. Ron had no choice then but to focus on his homework.

Hermione glared at Harry, and it pained him when he saw the hurt and betrayal in her eyes. She
stalked upstairs with her ornately carved writing box, collected her money for Hogsmeade, and left
the tower.

It took a few minutes for the knot of guilt in Harry's chest to loosen. He would have
laughed at how despondent Ron looked under McGonagall's tutelage, had he not felt so
miserable.

*'Well what did you expect? It's not as if you didn't deserve it?'* He
closed his eyes and covered his face. *'What was I thinking? I shouldn't have done that -
not to Hermione!'* Deciding nothing was more important right now then setting things
straight, he rushed upstairs, grabbed his invisibility cloak, and proceeded to the statue of the
one-eyed witch. With any luck, he'd beat her to Hogsmeade.

***

Harry lurked near the entrance of Scrivenshaft's, hoping to spy Hermione at any moment.
After what felt like at least half an hour, he began to lose hope. *'Maybe she just said the
first thing that came to mind? Maybe she's out walking off her foul mood.'* Ron had been
right about one thing, it definitely was a warm day outside, and Harry was sorely tempted to remove
his cloak.

Finally, he could see her coming down the street. Her face was still flushed with anger, no
doubt maintained by the brisk pace she kept. Her jaw was clenched and her mouth was set in a thin
line as she shoved the door to Scrivenshaft's open. Harry slipped in behind her, keeping a
healthy distance. She walked to the back of the store, pacing the row of finer quills, before
finally letting out a frustrated growl while pulling her hair back from her face.

"Hermione? Is everything alright?"

"What... oh, Ernie. Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"That's alright. You seemed a bit distracted." He placed a hand on her shoulder.
Harry couldn't say why, but he didn't care for it one bit.

"I'm just upset is all. Figured I'd treat myself to a new quill."

"Are you sure you're alright? I didn't see Ron or Harry."

"Oh, Ron's working with Professor McGonagall right now." Harry saw the mischievous
smile she flashed when she said it.

"And Harry?"

"Harry can sod off for all I care!" *'Ouch,'* Harry thought.

"Oh, bit of a row then?" He looked concerned, and it made Harry uncomfortable.

"You could say that. I just need some time to calm down."

"Alright then, as long as you know you can talk to me if you ever need to." He placed
both hands on her shoulders as he said this. Harry, without realizing it, began squeezing his
fists.

"Thanks Ernie." She smiled at him, then concentrated on finding a quill.

Unclenching his fists and taking a moment to calm down, Harry now tried to figure out how to
approach her without getting killed. He came to stand right behind her as she stared at a column of
large plumed quills.

*'Hermione, I'm sorry...'*

*'Hermione, I'm a daft git...'*

*'Hermione, I'm an absolute prat...'*

"OW!"

Hermione had deliberately stamped her foot backwards, smashing Harry's foot.

"Honestly Harry, if you're going to bother using that thing, you should at least try
not to breathe so heavily."

Harry pulled off the cloak, then tried to inspect his foot. Not that he could see anything
through his trainers, but it was throbbing heavily. Hermione, completely ignoring him, selected her
quill, then made her way to the front of the store. She took her place in line as Harry joined
her.

"Was that *really* necessary?"

She fixed him with a steely glare.

"Alright, I guess I deserve whatever it is you plan on doing. But please, believe me when I
say how truly sorry I am."

She stepped forward in line, placing her quill on the counter.

"No, please, let me get that. It's the least I can do." Harry selected several
different colors of bottled ink, three more quills and a several fresh rolls of parchment from the
counter display before paying the witch at the register. She smiled at them, gave Harry his change,
then handed him the bag, which was charmed to write 'Scrivenshafts' over and over in large,
loopy letters on the front.

Hermione had already walked out the front door before Harry caught up with her.

"Hermione, stop, please." She continued to ignore him and walked at a brisk pace. He
had to run and stop dead directly in front of her to get her attention. Her eyes still held that
same hard glint, so he handed her the bag in hopes of appeasing her.

"And *this* is supposed to make up for what you did?"

"Yes! I mean, no, it's... it's only a start. Please, you have to believe me. I
didn't intend to read your letters."

Her face turned color once more and her eyes grew wide. "You read more than
*ONE!"*

*'Uh oh,'* he thought.

She shoved him, hard, off of the sidewalk and stormed past.

"Ugh, that was brilliant!" Harry raced to catch up with her. She had already turned
the corner, so he had to put on a full sprint to head her off near the Three Broomsticks.

"Hermione wait! I'm really sorry! Just let me explain!"

She came to an abrupt stop then rounded on him. "Do you have *any* idea how truly
horrible and humiliating this is? What you've *done?* I trusted you and you completely
violated... I mean... I thought you were my friend!" Her eyes were shiny with angry unshed
tears.

He had hurt her. The last thing he ever intended to do. And now here she was, seconds away from
crying, and it was his fault. He couldn't bear to see her like this, especially because of
him.

"I am your friend, please," he said in a whisper, grasping her shoulders. "Just
give me a chance to explain what happened. Please. I can't stand to see you so upset.
*Please* Hermione." He was pleading with her, out here on the streets of Hogsmeade,
without caring what he must look like.

She just stared at him, her face threatening to release her unshed tears. He moved beside her,
then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, directing her into the Three Broomsticks. He found them
a table, then went to get them some butterbeers and pretzels. When he returned she was still,
thankfully, sitting there, and had managed to calm down a bit. At least she didn't look ready
to burst into tears at any rate. However, she still couldn't bring herself to look directly at
him.

"Alright look, I meant what I said. I didn't intend to read your letters..."

"They just happened to leap from the box and unfurl beneath you then?"

"Of course not! Listen to me. I was going back to look outside the window when you'd
left, and saw that worn quill of yours dripping on your letter. I'd only intended on cleaning
up a bit, but then I saw some of what you had written..."

"And you simply *couldn't* stop yourself from rifling through my personal
things..."

"Are you going to let me tell you happened or not?!"

She gave him a fiery glare.

"Well at least now you're looking at me," he teased.

"I'll just be going then." She tried to stand, but Harry placed his hand over
hers.

"No, no please. Just let me finish what I have to say. I can't stand to have you upset
with me Hermione." There was the most pleading and sorrowful tone in his voice, so she slowly
sat back down and stared at him, expectantly.

"I caught a glance of some of what you'd written. Something about 'being the only
person you could talk to' or something like that. I was curious. I mean, we've been friends
forever and... ," he swallowed before continuing, "and I didn't want to think that
there were things that you couldn't share with Ron or me."

Her expression softened just a bit and he felt free to continue.

"I wanted to let it alone. Honestly I did. I had hoped that it was something you were
writing to your mum, but then I saw," he couldn't bring himself to tell her it was the
*'something more'* line, "I saw something that made me realize you were writing
to someone else. I just wanted to know who."

"It's none of our business whom I correspond with Harry."

"I know that... and I promise you, my only intent was to see who it was. To see if it was
someone I knew or if, maybe, there was someone who was trying to manipulate you."

"Give me *some* credit Harry."

"I know, I'm sorry. I just had to be certain. It's just, these days, I'm so
paranoid Hermione. I've already lost Sirius. Who else is Voldemort going to use against me.
Believe me when I say that I only had your well being in mind when..."

"When you completely violated my trust and threw away any confidence you had in my
judgment?"

"Urgh! Look, that is not at all what I intended! How many times do I have to tell you that?
I only wanted to see who it was. When I saw that it was addressed to me..."

"But they're not *meant* for you..."

"...when I saw that it was addressed to me, then I decided to read it. Only then! When I
got through the first bit, where you made reference to all the other letters, that's when I
started looking through your things. I didn't mean to..."

"Get caught?"

He sighed. "...I didn't mean to 'violate your trust', Hermione. I saw something
that had my name on it, and lately, if there's something out there that's about me that I
don't know about, it tends to lead to very bad things!" She looked slightly unsettled, and
it gave Harry some hope. "Look, I'm sorry I hurt you, but, in all fairness, they were
addressed to me."

"But like I said, they were *never* meant for you to read!"

"Then what was the point of writing them?"

"They're for *me* Harry! They're my way of telling you everything that I
can't normally tell you, because it'll either upset you or it's too emotional, or
it's too frightening to vocalize..."

"Hermione," his voice was soft, "you know you can tell me anything."

"No I can't! Just look at last year Harry. It seemed like every third sentence someone
said to you was bound to set you off. I nearly had to *stupefy* you just to get you to listen
to me!"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Last year had been pretty terrible all the way 'round, but
then something occured to him.

"But you didn't *start* writing them last term Hermione. I found one, maybe the
first one ever, from the summer after first year."

He had her dead to rights. He could tell by the look on her face that she knew it as well.

"Alright fine." She looked as if she had reached some decision, then pressed on.
"You want to know the truth? Fine!" She took a deep breath. "You were muggle raised,
right?"

"You know I was."

"Right. And then all of sudden you find out you're a wizard. Forget all that 'Boy
Who Lived' stuff for the moment. You find out that magic is real. That you've had the
ability to do things that your family or classmates or 'normal' people couldn't
possibly understand. You finally realize why you've always felt strange and different - and
then suddenly you're thrust into Hogwarts, where, somehow, you're still strange and
different. And then these fantastic and frightening things start to happen to you. Things you
didn't even know existed are now part of your life on a daily basis. You're flying on
broomsticks, you're attacked by a troll, you sneak by a three-headed dog and land in a plant
that can strangle you like a boa constrictor! Harry, you, of all people, should understand how
utterly mind blowing all of that is for an eleven year old. Writing those letters, sharing that
with you, in a way, was just... I don't know Harry, I guess you were just the way I learned to
cope with it all."

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her
chest. Harry just kept staring at her in stunned silence.

"I continued to write those letters because things kept happening, things that even
'normal' wizards don't go through. Certainly things that muggleborns or muggle-raised
people would ever know how to deal with. I figure I'm saving myself thousands in therapy when
I'm older." She gave a half hearted smile.

"But, I mean, is it so terrible that I read some of them?" He knew he was taking a
chance at enraging her again, but he had to know.

"No Harry, the terrible thing is that you took away my decision to share any of this with
you, if and when I ever decided to."

"But I never would have read them if they hadn't had my name on them."

"Alright then, what if I suddenly decided to *leglimens* you? Right now. But, I only
promise to rifle through the memories you have of me. I mean, they are of *me*, right. So
what's wrong with me seeing your innermost thoughts?"

Harry blushed quickly. He wasn't even certain why, but he wouldn't want that...
definitely not. "I... I guess I see your point."

"Thank you!" He recognized that tone. She felt vindicated.

"But, let's be clear on this," he challenged. "I'm sorry for what I did,
but if you had just told me what you were doing..."

"And that would put me on *what* level of absolute nutters?"

Harry sighed, "I guess you're right... as usual," he teased. He couldn't help
but push a little further, "So, when can I read the rest of them?"

She threw a handful of pretzels at him, but at least they were both laughing now. She finally
began drinking her butterbeer, and Harry offered to order them a late lunch.

Two shepherd pies, two more bottles of butterbeer each, and Hermione was finally able to start
questioning him.

"So, I suppose I should ask... which ones did you read?"

"Well, I told you I had found the first one. I also read one you had written right after
you were cured from being petrified. I'm sorry I never thought to ask what that was like for
you. With everything that was going on, it never occurred to me."

"Well, just because you're *'The Great Harry Potter'* doesn't mean
you're still not a typical boy!"

"Hermione, seriously, how could you think you'd failed us? You know, without you,
we'd probably never had figured out what was going on, and poor Ginny'd be..."

She cut him off abruptly. "Well, that was rather a long time ago. I'd rather not dwell
on it."

"But you're *brilliant!* You have to know that. Even *petrified* you were
brilliant."

She smiled and a blush pinked up her cheeks. "Um, thanks Harry..."

"No really, you are. And I'm sorry for the way I acted when you told McGonagall about
my Firebolt."

"Oh Harry, that was ages ago. And I'm certain you've apologized for that well
before now!"

"But..., but I never *really* understood how badly we had treated you. I'm so
sorry for all of that."

"Alright, you know what. I'm sorry I asked which ones you read. The last thing I wanted
to do was make you feel worse about what happened, especially for things that happened years ago.
It's not as if you don't carry enough guilt with you as it is."

He thought about what she had written. About how she had found out from Hagrid all the horrible
things the Dursleys had done to him, and how deeply it affected her.

"I need to explain something to you. One of the bits of that letter..."

"Honestly, I don't remember everything I had written. I haven't even looked at some
of those in ages."

"No..., I'm certain you'd remember this. Look, Hermione," he reached across
the table and took her hand. "The reason I never told you about... about how I was
*really* raised," her face suddenly paled. "It was never because I didn't trust
you. It was because I was... well, I mean, I'm supposed to be this famous person in the
wizarding world, right? Some sort of hero, and yet, there, on Privet Drive...," he paused,
unable to finish what he had intended to say. She placed her other hand over his as a sign of
encouragement and tilted her head, her expression soft. He understood that this was her unspoken
way of asking him to continue. "I was just... I guess, embarrassed. What would it be like if
everyone knew what I'm really worth out in the muggle world?"

"Don't Harry! Don't you dare ever think that what those people did to you,"
she took a deep breath, "that how they treated you, was ever any indication of your worth. I
meant what I said then as much as I do now... it's nothing short of a miracle that you've
become the person you are after all those years of abuse and neglect."

"You never told me you knew..."

"I never wanted you to know. Not unless you told me yourself."

Not for the first time, Harry was keenly aware of what a wonderful person Hermione was.

Outside the window they could see the students heading back towards the castle. "Oh
dear," Hermione checked her watch. "we have to get back!" She grabbed her things and
quickly headed for the door.

"Wait, there's one more thing!"

"What?" She looked over the table to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

"Just this," Harry said, then wrapped her into a big hug. "I'm sorry I hurt
you Hermione. I promise to do my best never to hurt you again." Then he squeezed her tighter.
She wrapped her arms around and squeezed him tightly too. He'd never realized how good it would
feel to hold her this way.

"Apology accepted Harry. Thank you." It was a bit muffled, as her face was pressed
tightly against his chest. His chin was resting on the top of her head, and he continued to hold
her tightly for a moment longer. They slowly broke apart, and then Harry placed a few galleons on
the table to cover their check and tip and ran out the door with Hermione. They ducked into an
alley so that Harry could throw on his cloak. He wrapped himself up, but before he draped it over
his head, he suddenly remembered something.

"Hermione," he hissed. She had been guarding the entrance to the alley, but turned at
his voice. It was still unsettling to see just his head floating there. "Listen, you were
right."

"About what?"

He stepped towards her and gently touched her arm. "That letter you were writing today, you
said that there was something I've been keeping from you. There is, and I'm sorry. I
promise you, soon, when the time is right, I'll tell you what's been going on. I'm just
not ready yet."

"I know Harry." She smiled at him, then reached up and drew his hood over his head.
"Now c'mon, we can't be late." Hermione grabbed his hand and led him as they left
the alley and started making their way back up the castle. They lagged towards the back of the
groups of students just to be cautious.

"Hermione," Harry whispered.

"Yes," she whispered back.

"Thank you for accepting my apology."

"Oh, you're welcome..."

"Because, I really did mean what I said... you can talk to me about anything."

"I know Harry."

"You know..., me. Or maybe even Ron."

Forgetting he was invisible, she turned to look at him. She knitted her eyebrows while trying to
figure out what he was getting at. "Um... I realize that Harry."

"Because, you know, we'd definitely be there for you. It's not like you'd need
to talk to someone like Ernie MacMillan."

She didn't know if he was looking at her or not, but she turned her head away as a huge grin
spread across her face.

They hadn't realized they were holding hands the entire way until they had to let go upon
entering the castle. Once they returned, Harry rushed ahead and entered the tower. He noticed poor
Ron was still sitting at the table, mildly engrossed in his homework, for a change. He removed his
cloak once he reached his room, then waited a few moments before heading back down to greet
everyone. As he descended the stairs, he could hear Ron's raised voice.

"...did you go and do that for?! Do you know I've been here for four whole hours doing
my homework!"

"And why exactly is that a problem?"

Harry couldn't help but smile as he witnessed the exchange. Ron noticed him. then started in
on him as well.

"And where the bloody hell have you been? I've been working on this stuff alone for
ages!"

"Um, sorry Ron. I wasn't feeling too well. I went upstairs to catch a nap."
Hermione looked at him funny, then grinned.

"Well, you certainly looked sick enough when Hermione threw your book down. What was that
all about anyway?" Hermione looked wide eyed at Harry. He understood that if she couldn't
even tell Harry about those letters, she'd probably not want Ron to know either.

"I, um, I borrowed her quill without asking. Seems she's got it charmed to blacken the
thumbs of whoever's stolen it. You know how Hermione gets about her quills." Harry gave a
nervous laugh, waiting to see if Ron would believe him or not.

"Hermione, it's just a stupid quill. You said it was knackered anyway. Was it really
worth getting your knickers in such a twist?" Ron was doing his best to be understanding and
mature. If it wasn't so completely unnecessary, they might have been more impressed.

"I know Ron, I was just feeling upset. Like I had given up a Saturday and you two
didn't seem to be at all grateful. I"m sorry I set McGonagall on you."

"Actually, it wasn't too bad. Believe it or not, I managed to not only finish the
assignment, but I understood it too!" He puffed up with pride.

"That's brilliant Ron!"

"Yeah, good job!"

"Well Harry, if you need any help with your homework, don't bother asking me. I'm
not giving up dinner to go through all that again just because *you* got drowsy! You coming
then?"

"Where?"

"To dinner mate. It's nearly seven. I know I'm famished."

"Oh, I'm, uh," *still quite full from lunch in Hogsmeade, "*still not
feeling too well. I think I better beg off dinner tonight."

"What about you Hermione?"

"I actually ate at the Three Broomsticks. Besides, now that I've calmed down, I think I
should probably give Harry a hand with his homework."

"Suit yourselves then. See you in a bit." And with that, Ron headed out to the Great
Hall, joining most of the other students.

"Um, thanks for not mentioning what really happened." She looked at him, almost
shy.

"The last thing I wanted to do was upset you again. So, would you really mind helping me
with Transfiguration?"

"Of course not," she smiled at him, then went to grab her textbook.

******

A/N: And you thought it was over! One last chapter to follow, and thanks for the words of
encouragement. I guess I just couldn't bear to make you all wait (but I do really, really need
to proof the last one before u/l, so maybe it'll be <gasp> a whole day!). So much for
building suspense... I also happen to hand out Christmas presents after Halloween. Simply can't
stand the waiting...



4. Epilogue
-----------

******

Several hours later, and Harry was able to successfully turn an ottoman into a puppy, then back
again. Ron, having stuffed himself silly, went to bed earlier with a stomachache. There was a
handful of students still left scattered about the common room.

"Well done Harry!"

"Thanks. I couldn't have done it if you hadn't explained that one bit."

"Not at all," she leaned back into the armchair, stretched, then let out a loud yawn.
"Oh, sorry. I guess I didn't realize how tired I was."

Harry glanced at the clock. "Yeah, I suppose it is rather late. After all that homework, I
felt I've definitely earned a good night's rest."

"I couldn't agree more. Goodnight then Harry."

Hermione reached for her book, then made to stand up, before Harry stopped her. Something had
bubbled up to the surface of his memory while they had been studying, and it had been niggling at
him all evening.

"Um, Hermione? There is *one* more thing I'd like to ask you... I mean, you
don't have to tell me if you don't want to, and I promise not to bring it up ever again,
but the curiosity is just killing me."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably as she tried to gauge whatever it was he had on his mind.
"Er, alright then... what's on your mind?"

"That last bit you were writing," her cheeks flushed ever so slightly, "about
what your mum had told you, about your feelings? What are they the definition of, and why would it
frighten you?"

The slight pink in her cheeks turned into a full blown crimson blush. She rose slowly from her
chair, and had difficulty holding her gaze with Harry's. "You're right Harry... I
don't have to tell you." She didn't sound at all mad, but her voice was soft and
deliberate. "Goodnight then." She nearly ran up the stairs, leaving a rather confused
Harry behind.

He sat there for a moment, puzzled by her reaction. In all fairness, he had told her she
needn't answer. He tried to reason it out on his own, doing his best to recall the exact
wording. *'Something about seeing me happy, even it hurt or was upsetting. About keeping me
safe,'* he remembered. *'Why should that be frightening?'* The more he thought
about this, the more he realized that this was exactly the same way he felt about Hermione.
*'I'd have gladly taken that curse to the chest in her place,'* he reasoned.
*'And I don't understand how it could ever hurt to see her happy?'* His curiosity,
which had gotten him into this mess in the first place, was aching to be satisfied.

He glanced around the common room, trying to see if there was anyone there he could possibly
talk to. It looked as if his other three dormmates had left already. *'That's alright,
somehow I think this a bit too introspective for an adolescent male,'* he reckoned, his
vocabulary oddly mimicking Hermone's. Maybe, just maybe if he was lucky enough... yep! There,
bunched up at the large table in the corner, was just the redhead who might be able to help.

Ginny Weasley was in the middle of an intense discussion within her O.W.L. study group as they
debated the finer points of a difficult potions assignment.

"Er, excuse me, Ginny?" She looked up quickly, stunned out of her train of thought. It
looked for a second as if she might explode at him, but then recognition flashed in her eyes, and
she suddenly seemed much more approachable.

"Oh, hey Harry. What are you still doing up?"

"I was wondering if I could run something by you. Do you mind?"

"Not at all, just give me a sec." She rose from her seat, then spoke to one of the
other fifth years in the group, "And I'm telling you, I'm certain it's sneezewort
that causes that reaction." She joined Harry away from the others, "So, what's on
your mind?"

"Listen, I know this may seem kind of strange, so just bear with me for a moment,
'cause I swear it's going to drive me nutters. I'm trying to figure something out
for... for a classmate of mine. Er, someone in the DA actually..." He'd once heard that
the more elaborate a lie, the more believable it was. Although he hadn't planned on it, it
seemed as if he were about to get a practical demonstration of that theory.

"Oh, and what is that?"

"He has a friend, someone he's known for a long while, and the, um, other day, he
realized that it might upset him to see them happy. But he's their friend. Now why on earth
would it upset someone to see their friend happy?"

"Right then, this is a girl he's referring to, correct?"

"Yeah, but what's that got to do with it?"

"Can you give me an example of what it was that made him upset. What made her
'happy' that upset him?"

*'Uh oh! Think Potter, think! Something that would have made me upset...'* he
clenched his fist, then quickly released it when he noticed it was sore. He looked down into the
palm of his hand and saw the deep, semi-circular marks his fingernails had made earlier...
earlier... when he had been clenching his fist because she had been smiling when...

"What.." he swallowed before continuing. "What if he saw her smiling while she
was talking to another guy?" Suddenly his palms felt sweaty. He didn't like where this was
leading. "And this other guy was being really..." he remembered the way Ernie had placed
his hands on Hermione's shoulders, "*familiar* with her."

"Well Harry, that sounds like jealousy." She smirked at him.

"But I," he barely caught himself, "...I don't think he was
jealous."

"He may not have realized it, but that's what it sounds like to me."

He couldn't stand it anymore. He decided to ask her as point blank as possible without being
obvious.

"Look Ginny, what does it mean if someone cares for someone else, for their safety and
happiness, no matter how much it hurts or upsets them? If they'd rather see them happy, even it
meant they were miserable? What does that *really* mean, beyond friendship?" His stomach
was churning, and he felt rather lightheaded, because part of him *understood*. Part of him
had a very good idea as to why Hermione was frightened, because he felt the exact same way. She had
agreed with her mother's assessment of the situation, and, with the feeling of suddenly being
hit with a runaway Knight Bus, he realized he he did as well.

Ginny gently reached out and took his cold and clammy hand into hers, "It means, dear
Harry," she covered it with her other hand and gave a reassuring squeeze, "that
you're in love with Hermione." Harry remained dumbstruck as she got on her tiptoes and
gave him a soft kiss on his forehead, as if he were a small child that needed reassuring. She let
out a soft, playful laugh at the frozen expression on his face. "Honestly, it's taken you
*this* long to figure it out," she chided him. "Ron and I figured that out ages
ago!" She snapped her fingers in front of his stoney facade, shrugged, then rejoined her study
group.

Somehow, and he would never be able to recall how, he managed to find his way to his dorm. He
dressed for bed, removed his glasses, then laid down, pulling the covers up around him. He still
held the same dumbstruck expression he'd had since Ginny spoke to him.

*'I'm in love with Hermione... how can I be in love with Hermione? I'm too young,
aren't I? What if she's not in love with me? How did this happen? How does anything that
happens to me happen? How am I supposed to face her at breakfast tomorrow? How am I supposed to
face her, ever?! I think I'm more frightened by that than I've ever been of Voldemort!
It's not as if I need something more to worry about...'* It was new, it was
*definitely* frightening, and would absolutely need to take some time to adjust to. He stared
at the ceiling until he could no longer keep his eyes open, the anxiety finally giving way to
fatigue. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, his mind churned up bits of her letters, in her
voice no less...

*'...you showed me what true happiness friendship can bring...'*

*'...I only wish I had been there with you..."*

*'...I was so disgusted at what they'd done to you, and I sat there
sobbing...'*

*'...I'm sure you're not a bad kisser...'*

*'...Cho Chang... honestly, what were you thinking?'*

*'...The most frightening thing is that I.. I agree with her.'*

*'...I agree with her...'*

*'...I agree with my Mum, Harry..."*

*'....I 'm in love with you Harry..."*

And then he remembered how good it felt to hold her. How comfortable the weight of her hand felt
in his as they walked back up the castle. How she still smiled at him, even though he'd made
her miserable moments before. And then he remembered other things. The first time she had ever
hugged him. The way she ran to him, excited that he had solved the riddle. Her determination when
she looped the time turner's chain around them. The way she softly kissed his cheek at the
train station. Her outrage when she discovered his bleeding hand. Her smile... her laugh...

And for the first time, in a very long time, Harry Potter fell asleep with a smile on his face,
contented, with love from Hermione.

*****

A/N Okay kids. That's the way it ends. Hope you enjoyed, and please, do feel free to
R/R.

Special thanks to Lady Tuesday, for issuing the challenge that turned out to be so inspiring. I
hope to churn out more... eventually. How could I not after all your encouragement?

:^)



