Planning a Path by Reachfulhp88

Rating: G
Genres: Angst, Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 23/01/2006
Last Updated: 23/01/2006
Status: Completed

A cookie from a longer story of mine...Harry contemplates his life after HBP and Hermione and
Ron vow to always be there - R&R




1. Planning a Path
------------------



**This story is the product of Elizabeth and Katie's imagination!**

**Disclaimer:** *Oh, to be JKR…unfortunately, we aren't…*

*Chapter 1: Planning a Path*

Harry sat up his bed (well, his makeshift bed in Ron's room) and swung his legs over the
side. It was no use; he wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight. His mind was racing with
thoughts of “The Plan”, as he had started to think of it as. He needed to go to the Dursley's,
go to Godric's hollow, and somehow find the remaining Horcruxes. *The locket, the cup, the
snake, something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's*, he chanted in his head.

But then he had to add in Bill and Fleur's wedding into the mix. The date was set for July
4th, 2 days from now. *Don't forget Hogwarts* thought Harry. Although he would
not be returning as a student to the school that was his home, he was well aware that the resources
critical to finding Voldemort's soul were at Hogwarts. Namely, Dumbledore's portrait,
pensieve and any other useful information in his office, not to mention the library. To make
matters worse, Harry had not confided in anybody but Ron and Hermione that he would not be
returning to Hogwarts, and in fact he would be out in the world looking for Voldemort's
shattered soul. As far as he knew, Ron and Hermione had not disclosed that information either.
Harry could image quite clearly Mrs. Weasley's reaction to the news.

Part of Harry, a very big part, had considered simply running away with Ron and Hermione and
leaving everybody with a note. He had quickly banished this idea, on the basis that if he
didn't want them to catch up with him, then the Dursley's were out of the question. He was
certainly not looking forward to seeing his Aunt, Uncle and cousin again, but Dumbledore had wanted
him to. And despite everything, Harry still had some trust in the old man.

Harry sighed.

Resigning himself to another semi-sleepless night, he put on some socks and a green sweatshirt
and slipped downstairs, careful not to wake anyone. He had been at the burrow for two days now, and
so far had been very stealthy about his nighttime wanderings. He cringed at what Mrs. Weasley would
say if she ever found out how little sleep he was getting. But thankfully Harry, who was far too
used to sleepless nights, showed no side effects.

He padded into the cramped kitchen and sat at the table, in the same chair he had sat in all
those long month ago that early Saturday morning. How much had changed. To avoid getting swamped in
memories, he got to his feet and started heating up some water in the old copper teapot on the
stove. *Only 30 days left* thought Harry *then I'll be able to heat up this water with
magic.* He grinned in spite of himself at the thought of the new freedom his legality would
bring.

And the new pressures.

Harry idly picked up yesterday's copy of The Daily Prophet and scanned the front page. On
the front page was a picture of Scrimgeor gesticulating from a podium, presumably in the Ministry
of Magic. He had just recently been getting a lot of press urging him to make a decision about the
re-opening of Hogwarts.

“The wizarding world was split”, the article said, “between the reckless abandonment of letting
our children live in an unsafe school, and those who would save their children by keeping them
close to home.”

Harry snorted. *The Daily Prophet, always so objective* he thought sarcastically. He was
torn between the two choices himself. To open the school would, in his mind, provide more
protection for those children who would attend, but to close it would help his cause, for Hogwarts
was an idle place to make base at during his travels. He, like the rest of the wizarding world,
would have to wait for the School Governors to make their final choice.

The water started to boil, but unlike Muggle teapots that hiss and steam when hot, the
Weasley's teapot glowed bright red and emitted a faint tinkling sound. He rose to take it off
the stove, but was stopped by a voice in the doorway.

“I'll get it, Harry”

Harry heard the sweet, female voice he knew so well. He turned to see the face of one of his
best friends, Hermione. She was wearing a grey plaid bathrobe and her curly brown hair was pulled
back in a half-ponytail. She was rubbing her eyes sleepily with one hand, and walking toward the
kettle, reaching out with the other.

“Hello, Hermione. What are you doin' up?”

“Same as you, I expect,” she replied sleepily. She yawned, setting the kettle down on the table.
Harry fetched two un-matching teacups from the cabinet and two bags of cinnamon tea from a jar on
the countertop and set them down as Hermione began to pour the steaming water.

As they let the tea brew, they sat down at the table. Hermione rested her head in her hands. “I
know you haven't been sleeping, Harry. You might be fooling Mrs. Weasley and the others, but
you cannot fool me. I know you too well.”

Harry shrugged. He wasn't surprised that she knew. She always knew when something was wrong
with him, even if he never knew how. “I can't sleep, Hermione. There's too much to think
about. Too much to worry about. And when I sleep… I… *dream*…” He swallowed, regaining
himself. “Besides, how do you know I'm not sleeping?” he asked, trying to change the
subject.

She sighed. “Because I don't sleep either, Harry. I—” she broke off, lowering both her eyes
and her voice. “I know that I'm not going to be the one to face Voldemort in the end, but
nevertheless, I *am* scared. But not nearly as much for myself as for you.”

Harry's vision blurred as he saw a vague seen of a small bundle, almost like a baby. Dark
red eyes. Slits for eyes. Knives. Screaming. Snakes. Blood. Pain.

He shook his head, clearing his vision. His heart was pounding. He realized his hand holding the
teacup was shaking uncontrollably, nearly spilling the contents. He set down the cup and put his
hand to his forehead, touching his scar, to steady himself. *What's happening to me?* he
wondered.

He looked up, and saw Hermione's eyes boring into him, filled with the utmost concern.
“Hermione, I'm fine. Fine. Please. You shouldn't even come with me. This is something I
need to do alone, and though your company would be welcome for the majority of the time, this is
just too dangerous. I would have a much easier time of it knowing that you and Ron were safe.”

“What are you bloody talking about?” called another voice from the doorway.

Harry didn't even bother to turn around before he answered the voice. “Ron, you and Hermione
can't come with me. Just stay here. If anything ever happened to either of you… No, you
can't come.”

“Oh, posh,” said Hermione trying to calm him, as she stood up to set her empty cup in the sink.
“I'm coming, and so is Ron. As soon as you give the word, we're leaving with you. Don't
you dare try to give us the slip, Harry, because, mark my words, we will follow you. We've been
through the past six years together. Don't expect that to change now, simply because you're
`The Chosen One.'”

Ron collapsed into the chair beside Harry. “What she said,” he mumbled as his head drooped.

Harry sighed. “Alright. Fine. For your information, we're leaving the first of August. I
have to wait until after my birthday, or else things could be… complicated. But for now, can we
focus on the happier things for as long as we can?” He turned to a dozing Ron. “How's it feel
to be getting a sister-in-law?”

~**~

-->



