![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sroni![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
eilandesq)All That Glitters (the Midas Touch Remix) – PART ONE
It was a bright summer day, and as usual, Luna Lovegood was looking up at the clouds, trying to make sense of the shapes. She knew that people thought that she was flighty, and perhaps unintelligent, because she gave credence to things that they assumed didn’t exist. What other people thought didn’t really bother her, however. She was more concerned about whether or not she could see truth, even if she wasn’t seeing reality.
Luna observed everything around her at all times, and as such, was more aware of things than most people gave her credit for. They were usually surprised when she showed an insight to something. Sometimes it irritated, but more often, she understood where they were coming from with it, even if it hurt her feelings. She was a Ravenclaw. You don’t get into Ravenclaw unless you have a thirst for knowledge, and the brains to back up the desire to learn. For some reason, people thought she wasn’t a very good Ravenclaw.
It hurt. It did. But the people whose opinions really mattered were nice to her, and that was what mattered in the long run. She was able to brush off those hurt feelings and focus on the part that they cared enough about her feelings to want to spare them.
So she watched and listened and observed, and as a result, she knew things.
She knew that Ginny and Neville had been sneaking looks at each other for the past two years, even if Ginny was supposed to be dating someone else — not that the redheaded girl was cheating on Dean or anyone else that she’d dated; it’s just that there was something about the two of them that drew the other’s attention.
Luna knew that Ron and Hermione had been sending each other a few looks of their own, but they were doing it mostly because it was expected of them, and not because of any deep, real feelings. There was obviously some kind of genuine feeling and affection there, but in the long run, they would realize that it was only family and friendship, not romantic. Hopefully, they would realize this before they attempted dating; both of them had tempers on them, and Luna worried that the attempt might destroy their friendship. Ron and Hermione were good friends. They balanced each other out, and helped bring out the best in each other. They needed each other in their lives, and if they dated, they might lose each other.
Luna knew that the Weasley twins counted up all the points that they lost, and did enough extra credit assignments and things like that to earn back all the points they’d cost Gryffindor, plus at least five more — one year, they’d even managed to earn back another seventy. She also knew that they usually kept that to themselves, enjoying their status of prankster troublemakers.
Luna knew that McGonnagal was fiercely protective of her lions, that Snape took care of his snakes (some would argue too much care), that Professor Sprout was always ready for her badgers with a cup of tea and a hug, and that Professor Flitwick kept watch over his ravens to make sure that they were settling in all right. Though particularly McGonnagal and Snape would deny it if pressed.
Luna knew that Harry and Hermione were fiercely protective of each other, and that they would do things for each other that they wouldn’t, and couldn’t, do for other people.
***
Hermione had always had a hard time watching Harry play Quidditch; he was a natural on the broom, and she knew it — he could certainly do more things with it than she could. But that was the thing; because he was so outstandingly good, he pulled things off that she would never even dream of attempting. Mostly because she wasn’t certifiable and out of her bloody mind. As a result, watching him fly was always a harrowing experience for her; she never knew what he would do, what ludicrous risk he would take, what insane length he would go to, to get that damned Snitch.
Watching him play on a professional Quidditch team against another one didn’t make things any easier for her. If anything, that made it harder, because she remembered the World Cup and that Irish seeker driving into the ground when Viktor had pulled off that Wonky Feint thing. The image was burned into her memory with Harry’s face superimposed over the Irishman’s.
But Hermione had to suck it up and deal with it, because he was her best friend and she hadn’t missed a match yet and she certainly wouldn’t miss this match for anything. How many school kids had the chance to play on a professional team before they even took their N.E.W.T.s? Even beyond that, it was for a good cause, and Hermione was one to support causes that she believed in.
Not only was she not going to miss this match, she wasn’t going to miss any match in the future, either — it was what a friend would do for a friend. Of course, as soon as he set foot back on the ground, she was going to murder him for some of the risks he was taking.
One moment, she was watching Harry fly, and the next moment, she knew that something was badly wrong. She was reacting before Harry vanished and his broom plummeted to earth.
***
Hermione was doing her best to not mope around her house during her summer break. She’d suggested at the beginning of holidays to Mrs. Weasley that they do something to at least ensure that Harry would have enough food and not starve while he was forced to stay with the Dursleys. Mrs. Weasley had wrapped the bushy-haired girl in an engulfing hug, and then bustled off to get started on preparing food for “poor little Harry”.
So Hermione was stuck at home, and didn’t know what to do. She’d already gone shopping for her books for the next year, and had read through each of them at least once. DADA was her weakest subject, so she’d read that book twice. She’d read her Potions book three times, because in spite of Snape’s favoring of the Slytherins, she still held top marks in that class, and she meant to keep it that way. And Transfiguration was her favorite subject, so she’d read that book three times. She had comprehensive notes on all the subjects, done in a spiral notebook and ballpoint pen, with highliters and everything. Not that she would ever show those notes to the non-Muggleborn students, because they always looked at her blankly when they caught her using a pen. Even though pens were much more handy than a quill. Really. Who thought that forcing children to use quills was a good idea, especially when there were as many Muggleborn students as there were? And why didn’t they teach the Muggleborn students how to use a quill properly? Hermione had shown up at school, able to write clearly simply because she’d practiced and practiced and practiced once she found out that’s what she’d be using. But other students hadn’t the faintest idea how to write legibly, let alone neatly, with one.
Even this summer, she’d taken to writing with her quill every once in a while so that she didn’t get out of practice.
Hermione hated to admit it, but even she was studied out. Though she knew that by that time tomorrow, she’d have started reading another textbook for another go-through, simply because she was who she was, and she took pride in being considered the brightest witch of her age.
When Hedwig appeared at her window, Hermione was glad to see her. For one thing, it was a great distraction from her boredom. But the bigger issue was that Harry was writing something to her. Hermione ran over to the window to let Hedwig in, giving the snowy owl one of the treats that she always kept handy for Hedwig, Pigwidgeon, or Errol when they made their deliveries to her, before untying the letter from Hedwig’s leg to read. Hedwig hooted softly at her, and Hermione tossed her another treat distractedly.
The first letter of the summer that Harry decides to send her, and it’s about Quidditch? Seriously?
Still, this seemed like a fantastic idea for a fund raiser, and a huge deal for Harry. Apparently, Dumbledore had inducted Oliver Wood and Viktor into the Order, and the two of them had put their heads together and convinced their teams to play a charity game to raise money for the families of people killed in the coming war. The Seeker and back-up Seeker on Oliver’s team would be unavailable for the game, though, due to their upcoming nuptuals, so Oliver had convinced his team Captain to let Harry play in the game.
This was a fantastic chance for Harry, and she knew it. But that knowledge might not be able to stop her from murdering one Oliver Wood in his sleep. Harry was only an almost-Sixth Year, and Oliver wanted to put Harry in a professional-level game? What was he thinking?
He was thinking about his competitive streak, and that he would really like to win a game against Krum, and that Harry really was the most brilliant Seeker Hermione had ever seen, with the possible exception of Krum.
This did not mean that she was happy about it, though, not by any stretch of the imagination, even if she was rather proud of Harry for being chosen for this.
Still, she knew her job as Best Friend, so she pulled out a blank piece of paper and scrawled a quick letter to Harry, wishing him luck and saying that she knew he’d be brilliant at it, and she was counting on having front row seats. None of which were lies. She just left off her worry that he would maim or kill himself in his attempts to get the Snitch and that in spite of the fact that her best friends were Quidditch-mad, she still didn’t understand the game and saw no purpose to it other than to fly around on broomsticks. Really, one player who has nothing to do with the game other than catching the Snitch, earning their team 150 points just for doing that? How did that make sense? The Quaffle and their scores made sense. She could even understand having Bludgers flying through the air, to add in some distractions. And of course, Beaters made sense if one accepted the Bludgers, though she thought it would make more sense if the Beaters were scored based on how difficult a “save” was, and were they able to redirect the mad balls and throw the other team off in the process, etc. The Snitch just didn’t make sense to her.
But there was no chance of Hermione ever telling Harry that, because he really was brilliant at it. Even after five years at Hogwarts, he stilll didn’t think of himself as being particularly good at anything. Hermione wasn’t going to tell him that one of the few things he considered himself to be good at was a useless position.
After sending Hedwig off with the letter, Hermione began to pack her things. She knew that with this latest development, it was only a matter of time until she would either be back at The Burrow with the Weasley clan, or at Hogwarts itself as Harry trained for the upcoming match. She found herself hoping for Hogwarts, for many reasons. She loved the Weasley family dearly, and Molly Weasley was a lovely woman, even if Hermione found her a bit too domineering for her tastes. But they were always so… loud and rambunctious. She’d grown up as an only child, and even after the last two summers with the redheaded bunch, she still wasn’t used to their hustle and bustle and noise.
Besides, Hogwarts had books and places to study them, and they would probably be allowed to practice magic there.
And Harry would probably be much better protected there than at The Burrow.
No, Hogwarts really was the only choice, so she packed accordingly, with things she’d need at The Burrow just in case she was wrong in her deductions.
***
Severus Snape had been working on the same potion that he worked on every break. That particular day, he’d been working on it since waking up earlier than normal, and he was up later than normal. He closed his eyes and rubbed them tiredly. But he refused to give up. He had been working on this for years, ever since he had delivered the prophecy to Voldemort, not knowing that it would affect the two women that mattered most to him. One was dead, and he could never fix that. He would have to live with the fact that she was dead, and it was his fault, for the rest of his life.
The other was separated from him as surely as if she were dead, but she, at least, he might be able to fix, if he could only create the right potion. He would still have to live with the fact that he’d consigned her to hell for a decade and a half, but at least she would be alive and functioning again.
The mixture he now had might be the right one. But he had no way of knowing, and he didn’t know how to proceed without confirmation.
Severus wasn’t used to not knowing how to deal with something. He was used to creating a plan, and going from there. He was used to having a clear, easily mapped path in front of him. He’d worked hard to have his life set up that way, because he no longer trusted himself to follow the right path if there were a fork in the road. He’d made the wrong choice before, and it had set events in motion that he couldn’t fix.
Even if this worked, it wouldn’t absolve him. It wouldn’t abate his guilt in the slightest.
But he would still do everything he could, because it was the right thing to do.
***
As far as Hermione knew, and everyone admitted that she knew a lot, there were rules with magic, and a lot of them had to do with intention, but there were some rules that couldn’t be bent, broken or otherwise disregarded. One of them was that in order to create a Portkey, you had to have a clear idea of where they were going. Another equally important one was that if you were going to Apparate, you had to have a clear picture in your head of the destination and you arriving there (safely and in one piece, preferably).
Hermione didn’t have either of those things. She simply focused on being where Harry was, and her magic responded to that desire.
No one was more surprised than she was when she opened her eyes and found herself in a completely different place, a residence of some kind, and apparently that of fairly well-do-do people. Hopefully, Harry would be somewhere in the building, too. This would be something to keep in mind for later, though, because if the Death Eaters were smart — and unfortunately, they had an annoying habit of being smart when it least suited anyone else — they would have warded the building against Apparation, so no one could Apparate in, or out. That meant that whatever spell Hermione had just created was a way to get around those wards. This was an advantage that she had every intention of using later, but for now she simply filed it away — she’d do it again, then sit down and reverse-engineer it when agonizing death was not on the list of possible results of failure.
***
Magic made sense to those who understood it. It surprised Luna how many people tried to force magic into their own set rules and understanding. So many people, including her professors, thought that words and wand movement were what caused magic to work.
Desire. Someone had to want to perform the spell in order for it to happen. That’s why so many of Seamus Finnigan’s spells went up in literal flames during his first year. (Ron had told Ginny the stories, who’d passed them on to Luna.) He was an eleven-year-old boy who had a fascination with fire. He didn’t want to see a feather float. He wanted to see that feather explode. By the same token, that’s why nearly all of Hermione’s spells worked on the first try; she wanted to get it right and hear the professors’ acknowledgement of her skills.
That’s why accidental magic happened before kids started at Hogwarts. They had a desire, and their magic fulfilled it. There are some things that magic can’t fix, however. Some holes that magic can’t plug. After Luna’s mother died, all she wanted was to have her back. Her magic was able to supply her with a shadow of her mom, but it wasn’t the same and it wasn’t enough. Eventually, she was able to let go of that want, and her invisible friend went away.
But if someone wants something badly enough, and if their magic is strong enough, then even if they don’t know the spell to make it happen, their magic will overcome that obstacle. But, by the same token, people have to be willing to set aside their preconcieved notions about the way magic works, in order for magic to work the way it does.
Luna could understand why some people found magic confusing. To her, it made perfect sense, but she’d long ago learned that what she considered simple and sensible, other people usually found complicated and fanciful.
***
Severus worked hard to make sure that he kept the path before him streamlined. He had been at a fork in the road before, and had chosen the wrong path. That one wrong choice, that single, simple choice — and he’d had no way of knowing at the time how bad it was — had set him up for many other wrong choices, getting progressively worse and worse. The fall into darkness wasn’t steep for him. It was a slow and steady descent that he didn’t even recognize had happened until the three women for whom he cared most in this world had paid for his mistakes.
But it all came back to that very first choice when he was eleven years old.
No one should be made to suffer a lifetime for a choice made at eleven.
His mother had taken him to King’s Cross and just dropped him off at the station before leaving. She’d told him everything he’d need to know, and Severus was a smart child, and neither of them saw the need to continue their goodbyes in public when they’d already said them in the car. Neither of them were fans of messy, drawn-out goodbyes. They much preferred to keep things private and succinct.
If he had been asked, Severus would have admitted that he would have appreciated the company, and would have liked to not be alone in his first real foray into the wizarding world. But even while he was traversing the station alone, it never crossed his mind to doubt his mother’s love for him simply because she wasn’t there and all the other students’ parents were there. He knew that his mother loved him, even if she wasn’t the most physically affectionate mother in the world. He was able to forgive her absence that day because he also knew that Tobias Snape would still be expecting his dinner right on time as usual, and that Eileen had prepared as much as she could before it was time to take Severus to the train station, but she still had to get home and finish making the meal.
Severus pushed his rickety cart through the station, his trunks stacked carefully on top of each other, with his owl, Archimedes, on top. He’d saved up for ages in order to get Archimedes, and though it meant having to do with second-hand everything else, he was happy with his choice. It was nice having a pet, and better still was a pet that was useful.
He watched a few students pass through the barrier, before doing so himself. Not because he was afraid of doing it but because he preferred to observe the different options before making a decision on anything. He wanted to see if it would be better to go at it running, or just walk calmly, or simply lean against it and pass through in that way. He chose the last option, and in the blink of an eye had passed through what looked to be a wall, but in reality was a barrier separating the wizarding platform from the Muggle trainstation. Severus stood against the wall — that was actually a wall — and went back to people-watching. People fascinated him at the same time that they annoyed him, and he was constantly trying to figure out what made them do the things they did, and why they would think that was a good idea.
A boy who looked to be about his own age, though taller than him by quite a bit, sauntered over to Severus. Severus could tell by the look on the other boy’s face that he wasn’t going to be pleasant, and attempted to duplicate his father’s sneer. It didn’t seem to work — or at the very least, didn’t seem to work as well on his own face as on his father’s — because the other boy didn’t seem to notice. “Merlin, don’t you look ragged and threadbare? If you had red hair, I’d guess you to be a Weasley. Are you some kind of cousin, then, that didn’t have the misfortune to have that godawful colored hair?”
Severus didn’t even bother to respond, knowing that that would infuriate the other boy.
He was right, because the dark-haired boy gave him a little shove. “What’s the matter? You some kind of village idiot that’s too dumb to know how to talk?”
Severus put the sneer back on his face. “Dumb means mute, you idiot, which means that you were redundant in your insult.”
The boy gave him another shove, the stones that made up the wall digging into Severus’ back. “Guess you can talk, after all, but you don’t seem to know you’re supposed to respect your betters.”
Severus gave the boy a bored stare. “I’d respect you if you were my better. You aren’t, so I don’t. Funny how that works.”
The dark-haired boy started to pull back his fist, gearing up for a hit, anger flashing over his features, when another boy interjected smoothly into the exchange. “You have to admit, Black, he has a point. You certainly aren’t making yourself out to be a better, behaving like this. If he’s a newcomer to wizarding society, you can hardly expect him to know who you are at sight.” The new boy was as pale as the other was dark, and a few years older. He gave Severus a calm look over, his gray eyes not giving a thought away. “Are your parents wizards?”
Severus dipped his head in a small nod. “My mother. Eileen Prince, before she married a Muggle.”
The pale boy allowed a small smile. “I’ve heard of her. She’s a Potions Mistress, isn’t she? The youngest person to recieve that status. I’m Lucius Malfoy. And Sirius was leaving.” He fixed Sirius with a dark look. “Weren’t you, Black?” The dark-haired boy grumbled, but he did indeed leave, much to Severus’ relief.
Lucius invited Severus to sit with him in the train, giving Severus protection from bullies and the percieved offer of friendship. Severus latched onto that, and that was the first step towards taking the wrong fork. The rest of the steps down that road came later that night, when the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. Sirius Black had been Sorted into Gryffindor, and Lucius had sat with the Slytherins, his Prefect badge shining against the black robes and not a single white-blond hair out of place.
Severus sat on the stool, the hat draped over his head and covering his eyes, thinking loudly to himself, Don’t put me in Gryffindor, don’t put me in Gryffindor, over and over.
Hmm, said a small voice in his ear that apparently, only he could hear. Difficult. Very difficult indeed. A nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting. Not a bad mind, either, you’d do well in Ravenclaw. There’s talent, my goodness, yes, and that will certainly come in handy for the role you’ll wind up playing. You have a buried loyal streak in you, as well, though I think you’re a bit too prickly to fit in with the Hufflepuffs. And courage, plenty of courage, I see … So where shall I put you?
Severus remained stone-faced outwardly, but inside, he was repeating to himself and the hat, “Not Gryffindor, anywhere but Gryffindor, I’d much rather be Slytherin, nobody hates me there, not Gryffindor, please not Gryffindor —”
Not Gryffindor, eh? Are you sure? The path before you is going to be a hard one, you know, and Gryffindor could help make it easier on you. No? Well, if you’re sure, better be “SLYTHERIN!” The hat yelled the last word loud enough for everyone to hear, and Severus smiled to himself and made his way over to the table, seating himself next to Lucius Malfoy. Lucius gave him a small smile and said confidingly, “I was hoping you’d be Slytherin.”
Severus didn’t realize until much later that Lucius acted that way toward everyone — behave as if one was a friend, but allow none to be close, so he didn’t ever alienate a potential asset.
He’d had the chance to be more than what he’d become, and instead, he chose to follow the simple offer of protection, not realizing that his protector would lead him into more mocking and violence than the home he’d just left.
***
Hermione knew that she had to be smart about this. She couldn’t just go in wands blazing. She was the planner of the trio, and Harry needed her to stay calm and keep her head clear.
However, there wasn’t really a lot that she could plan. She stayed in the shadows as much as possible, and when it came time to go down another hallway, she used her wand to create another charm. This spell was one that would mark the wall with an arrow, and the arrow would disappear until she used the charm to make the arrow appear again — the ball of twine for her Labyrinth. If all went well, she’d have as much luck against Voldemort and his Death Eaters as Perseus did against his minotaur.
She worked her way through the darkened hallways, hidden by a Disillusionment Charm on her body, and a Silencing Spell on her feet, moving slowly when she came upon people and sticking close to the wall to avoid drawing unwanted attention. If her target was alone, she used a Stunning Spell, dragged the prone body to the wall, and cast a Disillusionment Spell on the unconscious Death Eater. She knew that at some point, she and Harry would reach that chilling stage where they would have to kill their foes. But things had not got that far yet, and she couldn’t bring herself to kill anyone. If there were more than one, she’d stay still and let them pass. It was just her and Harry here, and that meant that he needed her to evade capture — otherwise all hope of escape would vanish, like trying to catch smoke.
***
Usually, if Hermione were sneaking around Hogwarts after bedtime hours, it was all three of them. But every once in a while, it was just her and Harry. She supposed it was Harry’s way of making up for the times that it was just him and Ron. Whatever the reason, Hermione was glad he did it, even though it was breaking the rules, and before coming to Hogwarts, she had never willfully disobeyed adults. It meant a lot to her that Harry was keeping her included.
Even if she wanted to strangle him during the process. How could one boy make so much noise?
During their Fourth Year, when Harry and Ron weren’t talking, she and Harry snuck around, just the two of them, more than in the previous three years combined. She supposed it was natural, though, since she was taking the place of Ron in Harry’s day-to-day life. That was the year that she had finally figured out how to cut down on the amount of noise that he made. It wasn’t his fault, she supposed. He hadn’t grown up playing hide and seek, or those kinds of games, the way she had. He hadn’t learned how to soften his footfalls, or to walk in a way that didn’t cause his pants to make those swooshing noises, or how to quiet his breathing. If she tried to teach him, it would hurt his feelings, and Hermione was always careful with Harry’s feelings, because she knew that other people weren’t, and that they were much more fragile than he let on.
So instead of teaching him how to move quietly, she cast a Silencing Spell on their feet and legs, and the improvement was tremendous.
She filed that away, just in case they’d ever need it again.
***
Severus and Alice Friedrichs crept through the hallways late at night, having long since gotten used to the nighttime workings of the castle during their previous four years. Lily wasn’t with them, because she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to be part of their shenanigans.
They’d been planning this for ages, trying to figure out who they could do it to without causing trouble for the other. If they pranked the Gryffindors, the Slytherins would be automatically blamed for it, and Alice wouldn’t be too happy with Severus, since she’d be pranked in the process, seeing as how she was a Beater (and in Severus’ opinion, one of the best Beaters in the history of the school, though he’d be loath to admit it to anyone not her or Lily). If they pranked the Slytherins, the Gryffindors would get in trouble for it, and since Black and his group had an uncanny knowledge of who was where when things happened, Alice would be blamed within Gryffindor (though the prank itself might be worth the trouble Alice would have gotten the House into; Gryffindor was much more lenient about that sort of thing than Slytherin was).
So, obviously, that left the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, and what better thing to do than to throw suspicion on the other House of the two? Thus, they’d landed on the idea to turn members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team Hufflepuff Yellow the day of their big match.
The prank had been Alice’s idea. Severus had been pulled into it because of his Potions expertise and his ability to look for all the potential holes in a plan.
Obviously, they needed something to put in the showers. The difficulty lay in using a potion that wouldn’t react adversely to the excess water.
Well, also in not getting caught. Alice was able to get the Hufflepuff password without too much difficulty from one of her friends, so that part was taken care of. But some of the professors had the annoying ability to regularly almost-catch them when they snuck around — which, thankfully for Severus’ peace of mind, wasn’t all that often — and it wasn’t as though they had an invisibility cloak to aid them in their goal, seeing as how those were exceedingly rare and even more expensive.
The next morning, the Ravenclaws were sending the Hufflepuffs dirty looks, and the Hufflepuffs were all protesting that it wasn’t them. The Gryffindors thought it was hilarious, and the Slytherins were sneering at the juvenile behavior that everyone was showing. Severus and Alice caught one another’s eyes across the Great Hall and shared a smile.
***
Hermione wandered through the maze of hallways. Finally, finally, she found her way to the grand room that Harry and He-Who- … Voldemort — she forced herself to call him by his name, even if only in her mind — were in. The two were engaged in a duel, and at this stage Hermione was still unnoticed. On the moment of seeing them, she hurled a quick flurry of spells at Voldemort: he was one that she wouldn’t mind killing, not in the slightest. Harry had warned her about the prophecy and that the killing blow would have to come from him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help out.
Dark Lords didn’t make easy targets; Voldemort dodged or blocked the spells that would cause the most damage. Amusingly enough, she managed to catch him with a Jelly-Legs Jinx. That put him directly in line for the Petrificus Totalus, followed by a Stunning Spell. And wouldn’t it make for a good story for the Daily Prophet? “Dark Lord Incapacitated by Jelly-Legs Jinx”.
***
Hermione had long since realized that she’d started the process of falling for her best friend, but there was absolutely no reason for him to feel the same way. There was no indication that he would feel the same way, and Hermione was nothing if not analytical. So she’d shoved her feelings down, determined to be whatever Harry needed from her in whatever moment he needed it.
When he proposed a duel, in order for him to cement some of the spells she’d helped him with over the years, she was up for the challenge, and was able to ignore her feelings for him. His idea was a good one; start at 35 paces and work their way in, and first one to win five rounds wins the duel. However, neither of them did the math. They were each tied at four, and were far closer than she would have been comfortable with, but she was far too stubborn and competitive to give in.
They had tired each other out with the previous duels, and both were breathing heavily and sweating. They’d taken off their heavier robes, and were down to shorts, with Harry shirtless and Hermione trying to not stare, and Hermione in a tank top that she normally wore as an undershirt. Hermione’s hair had a mind of it’s own, as per usual, and by this point had frizzed out around her face, until she finally pulled it into a braid during one of their five-minute breaks between rounds to keep it out of her eyes. Hermione managed to land a Jelly-Legs Jinx on Harry, and the result was that she won the duel, but Harry knocked her over on his way down.
Harry started to apologize, but somewhere between opening his mouth and beginning the “I’m” and finishing the “sorry”, he got distracted and decided to kiss her instead.
Heavens, he knew how to kiss. It took her a few long moments to gather her brain cells together, but somehow, she got out from underneath him and said very carefully, “This never happened”, her face devoid of expression, before fleeing the room.
Harry didn’t chase after her, which told her everything she needed to know.
After that, she was careful to make sure they didn’t spend any time alone, made sure that they were always in a group. But she knew it wouldn’t hold him for long, and a few days after The Day Everything Changed, he managed to get her alone.
Hermione cut him off before he could start. “It’s your saving-people thing again. You think that I’m hurting over recent events, and you’re trying to help me. It’s sweet, really, Harry, but we both know that if it weren’t for that, I’d still be your buddy. Don’t worry. I know you didn’t mean anything by it, so we can just forget about it.”
Harry tried to convince her that it wasn’t his “saving-people thing” and that he really did have feelings for her, but he finally gave up. But not before vowing to prove to her somehow that his feelings were real.
Hermione couldn’t trust that he knew what he was talking about with that. It would hurt too much to believe it and then find out otherwise.
So she left it as it was, and told him — and herself — that what he thought he was feeling was just a desire to help her. That was all.
That was all.
Now if only she could convince her poor heart that, because it had decided to start hoping again.
***
Severus had grown up near Lily Evans. The two had become friends at an early age, and her friendship had gotten him through the worst of his father’s beatings, because at least his time with Lily was time that he could forget about the scapes and bruises, and he could relax and let himself be with the kind redheaded girl. She fussed over him whenever she spotted one of his various cuts or bruises, and though he lied and told her that he was just clumsy, she was a smart girl and had told him that if he ever said the word, she’d do something to get him out of the situation.
If only there had been a guarantee that he could protect his mother in the process, he would have said the word. But he didn’t have that guarantee, so he never had said the word Lily needed to hear, and Lily had never pushed him to do so.
He loved Lily with the unwavering intensity that only a child’s heart is capable of producing, and would have gladly followed her through the gates of Hell if she had but asked. And she loved him, he knew, but other things kept getting priority over him.
First it was her sister — his lashing out at Petunia had been the first crack in their friendship, and Lily hadn’t talked to him for a month over it (and Severus would never tell her that it hadn’t been his magic that had lashed out at Petunia, causing the branch to almost fall on her, but Lily’s, because he knew how much her family, her sister, meant to her, and knew that it had been a moment of anger).
Next had come her desire to be a Gryffindor. Severus had found her on the train to their first year of Hogwarts and told her about Black and Lucius, and begged her (rather, he came as close to begging her as he ever did to begging anyone at that stage of his life, and to her, it might have come across as sneering and insults, but she should have known that he didn’t know any other way to interact with people) to stay out of whatever House Black was Sorted into — yet when the time came and the Hat was on her head, obscuring her eyes from view, he had seen her lips form the word “Gryffindor” before the Hat shouted it.
Thus, the second crack was formed.
When Severus asked the Hat to put him in Slytherin, he wasn’t forsaking an old friendship for a new one. He was looking for the thing he’d always wanted: a protector.
Little had he known that the protector he’d chosen would cause more harm than even Black could ever hope to implement.
If only he’d known.
Severus had a lifetime of “if only”s.
If only Severus had known then what he knew now, he might have avoided becoming a Death Eater altogether.
If only Severus had known then what he knew now, Lily Evans — he could never think of her as Lily Potter — might still be alive.
If only Severus had known then what he knew now, Alice Friedrichs Longbottom might be with her husband and son, instead of in Saint Mungo’s, unable to recognize her son when he came to visit.
He couldn’t negate becoming a Death Eater, though he used his current status to make amends for that choice.
He couldn’t bring back Lily Evans, though in the first year after her death, he had looked into the Dark Arts to see if there might be a way to bring her back even if it damned his soul in the process.
But he might be able to save Alice. And he would do everything in his power to do so, regardless of the cost to himself. He owed it to her for everything she’d done for him, and because he was the reason she was in the condition she was.
***
Hermione had just managed to incapaciate Voldemort with a series of simple spells — luck, sheer and beautiful luck — when the doors opened from the other side of the room (maybe there was some kind of warning system on Voldemort himself if he were attacked or incapacitated? something to look into later) and a flood of Death Eaters came storming in. Things had gone from “bad but hopefully doable” to “really bloody bad and there was no way they were getting out of this one”. Hermione hadn’t been crazy about their chances before, but now they were significantly worse. Two school kids against even one adult, fully-trained wizard would be a major challenge. Two schoolkids against at least twenty fully-trained wizards — one of whom was Bellatrix LeStrange — with virtually no chances of someone coming in after them? Hermione was confident that their chances had just plummeted to zero.
Still, though, Harry did have the most extraordinary luck, so maybe they’d be all right after all.
Even if people he cares about have a tendency to wind up dying —
She shoved the thought out of her head. No time for that now. She couldn’t dwell on that. She had to focus.
***
Hermione was worried about Harry. They’d been back at Hogwarts for a week now, while Harry prepared for the upcoming fundraising Quidditch Match, and he was laughing and joking. More than he used to do. It seemed like a veneer that was about to crack. If one looked closely, as Hermione was prone to do, they would see it flaking a little at a time.
Hermione was afraid that it was because he hadn’t yet dealt with Sirius’ death. And how was he supposed to? He and Sirius had had far too short a time together, especially considering that they weren’t able to see each other during the year. The summer previous had been the most time Harry had spent with Sirius, and that had only been a few weeks.
Which added up to “it wasn’t fair”, but that wasn’t what she was trying to get at.
She studied Harry for a few days, trying to figure out the best way to approach him about it, before finally giving up on that idea, and simply cutting straight to it.
It happened after one of his practices. As usual, Ron wasn’t around, and she had no clue where he was or what he was up to. The Gryffindor Common Room was empty. There really wouldn’t be a better time.
So Hermione sat Harry down, and then sat next to him. She was determined to not let him shake her off, so she sat closer to him on the couch than she normally would. She laid out her worries. She listened to his reasons why she was wrong. She pointed out the holes in his arguments.
He got angry.
She stayed calm and rational.
He tried to leave.
She wouldn’t let him.
He got angry again.
She stayed calm.
Finally, he broke down. He was able to purge everything he’d been holding in; anger at himself for falling for Voldemort’s trap, regret that he hadn’t listened to her, anger at Sirius for not taking the duel with Bellatrix seriously, rage that he’d lost the person who could have rescued him from the Dursleys. And then the tears. Hermione lost track of how long he cried, first huddled in on himself, and then on her shoulder, and finally, he cried against her lap. Harry wasn’t a crier, Hermione knew that. She didn’t think she’d seen him cry once in the five years they’d known each other. For him to weep like that meant that he was getting a lot of stuff out of his system, and probably not just Sirius.
Hermione didn’t talk. She didn’t tell him he was wrong. She simply let him cry.
It seemed to be enough.
She hoped it was enough.
It had to be enough.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Circle of Friends Remix
Date: 2011-10-24 11:57 am (UTC)Circle of Friends Remix
Date: 2011-10-24 12:29 pm (UTC)Circle Of Friends Remix
Date: 2011-10-24 03:57 pm (UTC)