[Fic]: Harry Potter and the Pet Fiancée, Part One of Three (22,200 words total)
Harry Potter and the Pet Fiancée
A Harry Potter fanfic
By Andrew yclept Aelfwine
Rating: PG-13. 22,200 words total. Second Year AU warning. Harry/Hermione Warning. Gentle and Consensual Male Dominant/Female Submissive Warning. Collars and Cuddling Warning. Lack of Explicit Content Warning. Luna Warning. Good!Snape Warning. Yours Truly warning.
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The characters and situations of the Harry Potter series are copyright J.K. Rowling. They may not be used or reproduced commercially without permission. The use of these characters and situations is not to be construed as challenge to said copyright. They are merely borrowed for this work of non-commercial fanfiction, from which the author derives no financial benefit.
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So, this is a Second Year AU, in which Harry's promise to always care for Hermione leads to our favourite couple finding themselves in an unusual relationship and making the very best of it. Yes, there is a collar, but this is in every way a safe, sane, and consensual relationship between decent people, with absolutely no humiliation, coercion, or violence. Still, if that particular kink bothers you, you might want to go and read "On a Bright Summer Morning," "Hufflepuffs and Harmony," or "Summer of the Bundling Charm" instead.
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Slight edit for name of location:19 December 2013.
Harry put his and Hermione's corked sample vial into the rack on the Potions Master's desk. Hoping Professor Snape hadn't really noticed them, he began to turn away. Just then, he heard the dreaded words: "See me after class, Mister Potter."
Harry looked up. He had no real answer, but at least Snape didn't seem to expect one. Was there less scorn in Snape's voice than he'd become accustomed to in First Year? Harry wasn't sure. He glanced at Hermione. She didn't seem to have any better notion of things than he did, but he felt the sympathy in her eyes. These days it seemed as if more often than not they each knew precisely what the other was thinking or feeling. It had always been that way, a little bit, ever since they became friends. He wasn't sure if it had actually increased, or if it was only their now almost constant proximity that had increased his awareness of it.
They left the front of the room and returned to their table, where they cleaned out their cauldron. Harry wiped down their other tools and put both them and the ingredients away, whilst Hermione packed up their books in Harry's bag. It was a routine that had become as natural for them as breathing.
They were always partners now. The school rules for "non-standard pets: i.e. other than a cat, rat, owl, or toad" said that Harry had to keep Hermione "under his control, or that of a designated staff member or peer possessing sufficient physical and magical strength, at all times when outside his assigned House of residence." Surprisingly, Snape had made no attempt to force Harry to partner with one of the so-called official pupils in place of his pet, even during their first Potions lesson under Hermione's altered status.
When the bell rang and the others left the room, Harry and Hermione went to stand before the Professor's desk. "Weasley, Longbottom, Patil, Brown, I did not ask you to see me. Please go on to your lunch. Your friends will be joining you shortly." Harry looked away from Hermione and over to the door, where his friends were waiting. And did he see other students beyond them in the corridor, and perhaps even catch a glimpse of Slytherin colours, not to mention Millicent Bulstrode's curly black mane and Daphne Greengrass' blonde plaits? "I promise you," Snape continued, "that Mister Potter and Miss Gr... that is, Miss Pottersbond will not be harmed. Go on."
The young Gryffindors almost ran out the door. Harry stood silent, with his bag slung over his shoulder and Hermione's leash in his hand. He wished he could let go of the leash and take her hand instead, but he didn't dare risk Snape taking points for failure to control his pet. Not that Snape was anything like as quick to take points off him as he had been in First Year, but Harry wasn't inclined to take chances.
When Snape drew his wand, Harry tensed and prepared to drop, taking Hermione down with him and covering her body with his own. But the professor simply cast a Colloportus and locked the door. "Now, then, Mister Potter, I find myself in the position of having to do something I have never done before: apologise to a pupil. From your first day here at Hogwarts, I have, I must confess, treated you unfairly, all because I could not look beyond your father's features to see your mother's eyes and your mother's kind spirit so strong in you.
"However, recent events have made the depth of my error abundantly clear to me. Mister Potter, I am sorry for my poor treatment of you, and in the future I will try my best to consider you as the good and decent young man you clearly are."
"Sir?"
"Mister Potter, when it came time for your first lesson after Miss Pottersbond's... change in status, I expected to see her humiliated, and to find myself in an impotent rage at my inability to protect yet another bright young witch. Instead, I found her dressed in her full school uniform, just as before, with only the unfortunate legal necessity of her collar and leash to mark her as any different to your fellow pupils. More than that, I saw you treating her with every possible courtesy, as if she had become your betrothed rather than your chattel, and even rebuking Mister Weasley when he made an unkind remark. With that, the scales fell from my eyes and I began to understand that you are far more than a mere copy of your father.
"Although I must admit that the adult James Potter was a decent man, in his, that is to say, in our Second Year he was little more than a mean-spirited bully. I suspect that if L... any young girl had fallen under his legal control as Miss Pottersbond has fallen under your own, he would have immediately gone to work figuring out just how far he could push her public disgrace without falling afoul of the laws protecting human bondservants from physical and emotional abuse. In all likelihood he would have attempted to parade her in the nude through the corridors of this school, and when that was forbidden by the Headmaster or his Head of House he would have dressed her in the most fragmentary and embarrassing costume which he could devise. She would have written every essay for him and for all of his friends, and each waking minute of her every day would have been spent at their beck and call."
Hermione hugged Harry round the shoulders. "Professor, you needn't hurt my Harry with this--" She cut herself off abruptly.
Harry hugged her. "Professor Snape, any statements by my Hermione are my own legal responsibility, not hers, and I will take all punishments assigned to her, as is my obligation under the school rules, sir. I will leave her in the keeping of Professor McGonagall during my detentions."
"Twenty points to Gryffindor for taking care of your master, Miss Pottersbond. And another twenty points for taking care of your pet, Mister Potter."
Both children were silent. After a moment, Snape continued "Understand that I am not describing the characteristic behaviour of the young James Potter in order to hurt you, but in order to explain to you that at twelve years of age you have matured to a degree that your father did not attain until he was very nearly a grown man. Even more significantly, his maturing was in many ways the result of your mother's influence. And I question if even she could have reached him as... from the same legal position which Miss Pottersbond holds with respect to yourself."
"Thank you, Professor."
"No need to think me, Mister Potter. Just, please, take care of Miss Pottersbond. And please take care of him, Miss Pottersbond."
"I will." They spoke almost as one voice.
"And now you'd best run along to lunch. It wouldn't do to have your friends worrying about you, would it?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
"You might choose to take a moment to see to your pet's comfort, Mister Potter. I'd recommend you do, if she should wish it. Although I would also request that you not take too long. I'll be remaining here for a few minutes, but if I should be in the Great Hall for a significant length of time without the pair of you making your appearance, I would expect that your friends will be telling the Hufflepuffs. As Professor Sprout tells me they're all convinced both of you should have been housemates of theirs, I'm certain they will be ready to abduct me and interrogate me as to your whereabouts. And considering that Miss Bulstrode and Miss Greengrass would in all likelihood join in with them, things could go very badly for me."
Hermione smiled. "We can't have that, Professor. Thank you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Pott... that is, Miss Pottersbond."
Hermione blushed and stammered. "Thank you, Professor Snape," Harry said. "From both of us."
Snape cancelled his locking spell, and they left the room as he turned back to the rack of samples. They kept their arms about each other.
Not more than twenty feet before the staircase there was a little alcove in the wall, something that might have been an old archer's niche with its arrow slit opened up and glazed. That didn't make much, or indeed any, sense, considering that it was on the same level as the rest of the dungeon and the view it gave was of nothing but lake bed and murky water, but in the context of Wizarding architecture, once one thought of all the moving staircases and doors that opened on blank walls or led to different rooms depending on what time of day it was, it probably wasn't so exceptionally strange, after all. The alcove wasn't as private as a broom cupboard, but right now, with most everyone in the school already sitting down to lunch, it would be private enough.
After all, they weren't going to do any of the things that older students sometimes did in the privacy of a cupboard. Harry and Hermione hadn't yet engaged in any physical acts more intimate than a lot of hugging, a bit of kissing, their nightly pyjama-clad snuggle in bed, and giving each other clothed back-and-shoulders rubs. And when they wanted to enjoy each others' company in those ways they had the comfortable private room that Professor McGonagall had assigned to Harry the day that Hermione became his pet, on the grounds that he was now head of a household and needed space for himself and his dependent.
Harry had just decided he'd follow Professor Snape's advice and ask Hermione if she wanted him to take her into the alcove for a hug when she said softly "Could we, err... stop for a bit?"
"Of course, love." Harry leant close to whisper the last word in her ear, and let Hermione draw him inside.
"Oh, sorry!" It took Harry a few heartbeats to realise that they'd bumped into Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass. Hermione was crimson.
He squeezed her tightly. "Sorry. Very sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you. We'll find somewhere else..." The little stone nook was just barely big enough for the four of them, but he had to believe Hermione would be uncomfortable at being hugged and kissed and having her hair stroked so close to two other girls, even if they were her friends. Not to mention that surely the two Slytherins would be uncomfortable at seeing Harry comfort her in front of them. That would be too intimate, much too close to the sort of thing that Professor Snape had praised him for not doing.
Sally-Anne Perks had asked if she could watch him kissing Hermione, one evening in the Common Room, about a fortnight after he'd been forced to put a collar and leash on his best friend. He'd not known how to respond. He'd not even understood why one of Hermione's former roommates would want to see them showing affection for each other. He'd wondered if it might be some harmless favour that girls would routinely ask of their friends and their friends' boyfriends, but then he'd felt Hermione stiffen beside him, which let him know there was something very wrong with it.
Fortunately, Parvati had overheard. She'd immediately asked Harry and Hermione to come over to the other side of the room and help herself and Lavender make sense of the chapter on Redcaps they'd been assigned as Defence homework, sparing Harry the awkward necessity of refusing the strange request directly. Sally-Anne hadn't asked again. He thought the other girls might have had a sharp talk with her that night, as it was a month after before she even spoke to him or to Hermione outside lessons.
"Oh, thank Merlin! You're all right? Both of you?" And now Millicent was blushing as well. "Err..."
"Millie and I were only taking a moment to go over our notes before lunch, of course. Can't let the Ravenclaws take all the best marks on the exams, can we?" Daphne's expression was deadpan.
"Oh, come off it, Daph. We wanted to be sure you were both all right. A dressing down from Professor Snape is never pleasant, and since the House of the Brave had all fled to the Great Hall, well, somebody had to do it."
"Thank you." It was all Harry could think to say.
"He actually... he only wanted to talk about Harry's mother. They were in the same year."
"Oh. Really? That's... not what I expected." Millicent still looked flustered. "Well, don't worry. Daph and I won't tell a soul, will we, Daph?"
"Of course we'll not."
"We respect your privacy. And Professor Snape's." Millicent's friendly smile was a lovely sight. In First Year, Harry would never have believed that a Slytherin would smile at him, unless perhaps they were gloating because something nasty had happened to him. He still didn't quite understand why Millicent and Daphne and so many of the other girls seemed to think very highly of him now, despite the fact that he was nearly always leading a girl about on a leash, but he was glad that they did. He'd spent most of his life with no companions at all, and even last year he'd only really had Ron and Hermione. It was nice to have more friends, even if he did wish it could have happened without the fraught situation that had precipitated it.
He still felt guilty about Hermione's change in status, despite her firm and constant insistence that she didn't blame him for archaic Wizarding laws and Hogwarts rules that had been created hundreds of years before they were born, not to mention the number of times she'd told him that, in spite of the embarrassment of having to wear a collar and be led on a leash when they were outside Gryffindor Tower, she was delighted to belong to him.
"And speaking of privacy, Millie, shouldn't we let Harry and Hermione have a bit of it? I'm thinking they surely didn't seek out an alcove so they could look over their notes."
"Right. If you'll let us out, we'll leave you two alone for a space. Enjoy!" Harry didn't know what to say to that. From Hermione's expression, she didn't, either. They both smiled at Millicent, and she smiled back, as if that was more than enough.
Daphne gave Harry a little pat on the back. "Have a good time, you two, and we'll see you at lunch. And don't worry, we'll let everyone know you're all right."
"Thank you. Both of you. For everything."
"Any time, Harry. Thank you for taking such wonderful care of our favourite Gryffindor study partner. Well, our first favourite Gryffindor study partner... you're the only person who's ever explained how to steer a broom through a crosswind without getting blown off course in a way that actually made sense to me, did you know that, Harry? My dad and my uncles and my Aunt Helena who plays Chaser for the Harpies have been trying to do that for years, and could never quite manage it. I borrowed a broom last week from my cousin Anthea--she's a Ravenclaw in the year ahead of us--and it worked perfectly."
"Oh. Err, no, I didn't. Thank you, Daphne." Harry had been quietly amazed to discover that Hermione had joined an informal study group during First Year that included not only Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls but a couple of Slytherins. He'd never noticed until she told him during the first week of their new relationship, asking if she could possibly, once in a while, spend a few minutes with them. He'd been hurt that she would think he'd not let her continue to spend time with her friends, a hurt that healed a few moments later when he told her he'd never stop her doing anything that mattered to her and she'd hugged him hard enough to take his breath away, a hug that had led to their first full mouth-to-mouth kiss.
The only thing more amazing had been how readily the girls had accepted him into their study group. At first he'd only stayed because he didn't know any of them well enough to feel comfortable handing Hermione's leash to her. But within a fortnight he found he'd somehow, without any conscious intention on his part, become not only a participant but an actual friend of Susan, Hannah, Padma, Mòrag, Millicent, and Daphne.
Millicent gave him another little pat on the shoulder as the two Slytherin girls left the alcove. When they were gone, Harry and Hermione stepped back inside. "Um, so, would you, well, like...?"
Hermione smiled at him. "Yes, please." They embraced, and for a long moment they simply stood together, like that. After a little while, Hermione nuzzled at his cheek. He knew what that meant. It was exactly what he wanted as well. He trailed his lips along her cheek, until they reached hers.
It probably wasn't a full-fledged snog, at least as far as Harry understood what that meant. But it was a nice, pleasant, wonderful kiss between him and his very best beloved friend, who also happened to be his pet. Not long ago, he'd not really been able to imagine ever doing such a thing. Not with Hermione or with anyone else. Before Hogwarts, virtually every physical contact he could recall had been painful. The first hugs he remembered had been from Hermione in the the chamber under the third floor corridor, and again before they got off the train in King's Cross Station at the end of First Year.
He'd only had the vaguest idea of what kissing even was. Certainly Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had never done such a thing, at least not in a place where they could be seen. He'd noticed pictures of folk in magazine adverts who were hugging each other and pressing their faces together, and he'd thought that somewhere, somehow, he'd seen someone else do something similar, but it had been as detached from his daily life as his vague, dreamlike memories of a gentle giant and a flying motorbike.
Hermione wound her fingers in the hair at his collar, pulling him closer to her. He liked it when she did that. He stroked the back of her neck and toyed with her plait. She'd taught him how to brush and plait her hair for her. That had quickly become one of his favourite things to do. He'd not tell Oliver Wood, of course, but he knew for certain that he liked it even better than flying.
They broke the kiss, and rubbed noses. That was called an Eskimo kiss, Hermione had told him, although she said it really should have been called an Inuit kiss, as that was what the Eskimos actually called themselves. Hermione smiled at him, very sweetly. "I love you, Harry. My own Master..."
"I love you, Hermione. But you know you don't have to call me 'Master'. It's not in the rules, even."
"I know. But... do you mind if I call you that, sometimes? I, well, I sort of like doing it. At least once in a while, when we're alone. It's all right if you'd rather I didn't. I understand..."
"Oh, Hermione, of course you can. You may, that is. As long as it makes you happy, it doesn't bother me at all."
She smiled even more brightly, and pressed her lips to the tip of his nose. "Thank you... Master. You know, the fact that you don't make me call you that is precisely why I enjoy it so much."
"Oh." He didn't altogether understand what she was getting at, but if it was what his Hermione wanted, that was good enough for him.
"Have I ever really thanked you for taking me in, Harry? I was so lost when my parents said they were tired of paying for me to learn 'magic tricks and mummery.' I didn't know what I'd do, except that I couldn't do what they were telling me to do, and I didn't know what would happen. But there you were, and you saved me. Thank you, thank you so much."
She buried her face in his chest, and he nuzzled her hair. "Of course you've thanked me, Hermione. You've been you, and you've kept on being you, and you've never blamed me for all this, well, the stuff with the collar and leash. I just wish I'd understood what it would mean when I said I'd take care of you as if you were my own, because I'm sure I could've found some other way to make sure you were safe and happy and could keep going to school. If only somebody had told me about Life Debts, and what they meant, and that saying I'd take care of a girl who owed me a Life Debt as if she were a part of my family meant she'd, well, belong to me, rather than becoming my sister or something..."
"Really, Master, I could never, ever, under any circumstances have been your sister. I know we're young, but I don't think it's at all healthy or natural for a sister to feel about her brother the way I feel about you, the way I've felt about you for as long as I've known you. I mean, I suppose it's possible that a few Purebloods might marry their siblings, judging by people like Malfoy or Crabbe and Goyle, or at least... do things with them, although most think the idea is just as sick as we do."
"Oh?" Harry wasn't sure what to think about that. Would it have actually been a bad thing if Hermione had become his sister, even to the point that it was better that she outright belonged to him? Put that way, he knew it was, since he couldn't stand the thought of her marrying someone else, and if he'd dared to think about marriage at all in First Year he would have realised he already felt that way.
Thinking about that made him think of the day in September when everything had changed.
#
Harry was caught up in the Weasley family's rush to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He knew they were running far too late, so late that he didn't even want to think about what time it actually was, or about how they'd get to school if the Hogwarts Express left before they could board. Instead, he concentrated on managing his trunk and Hedwig's cage. It would be very awkward to knock someone over or squash their toes, and he would feel terrible if they were truly hurt.
He had a tangle of thoughts in his head: How does the Statute of Secrecy survive this? Hasn't anyone in the Muggle world ever noticed that every year on the first of September there's a mob of weirdly dressed people with old-fashioned trunks and pet owls running through King's Cross Station? They can't all be ignoring everything, like that man in the grey suit with the mobile telephone--I'm sure Uncle Vernon will be getting one of those, even though he hates to talk on the telephone--who just nearly trampled Ginny underfoot. Is Hermione looking forward to seeing me? I wish Ginny weren't so shy, because they might like each other and Hermione would probably like to have a girl to be friends with. I've seen Ginny reading books more times than I've seen Lavender and Parvati reading anything that wasn't a fashion magazine, and she wasn't even in school. I do hope she'll get to know Hermione eventually...
And then he saw her. She was sat on her trunk, all alone next to the portal, one small pretty brown-haired girl, twelve years of age, dressed in a neat Muggle outfit of skirt and blouse and blazer. Naturally, she had an open book resting on her knee, although she wasn't looking at the pages, which surprised him. Why had Hermione not gone in and got on the train as soon as she was dropped off? Was she waiting just to see him? And what did it mean if she was? He felt as if his heart might burst in his chest, but he wouldn't mind if it did because it felt so warm and so happy that he was sure it would be a nice kind of heart bursting.
Ron called out "Oy, Hermione! What's up? Conductor tell you all your books would break the Express, so you'd have to leave half of them behind?" Harry wished a Bludger would appear and smash some manners, or at least some sense, into his red-headed friend. Oh well, Hermione will set him right.
But Hermione ignored Ron. Harry didn't know what to think. Was she having trouble hearing, as if her ears were stopped up with a cold? He drew nearer and said "Good morning, Hermione."
She sprang off her trunk, barely pausing to close her book and set it on the lid, and hurled herself into his arms, which he spread wide to catch her, obeying some reflex he'd never known he had. "Harry. Oh, Harry. So good to see you. I... I missed you." She was shaking, and clinging so tightly that he wondered if he might have Hermione-shaped bruises in an hour or two. He didn't care. It wasn't as if he'd not been bruised before, and if holding him with such force helped Hermione he was fine with it. There's nothing I'll not do if it's what Hermione needs done.
"I've missed you as well, Hermione." He stroked her back, his fingers making little circles. She was warm, solid, and real. For the first time he became fully aware of just how much better any day when he could see her was when compared with even the best day when he couldn't.
He thought he heard Ron say "Don't smother him, Herms." That was stupid; Hermione would never hurt Harry, any more than he'd hurt her, and she hated being called 'Herms.' He would've liked to hit Ron for hurting her feelings, but it was clear Hermione needed him to hold her far more than she needed him to fight with Ron.
"It's not at all proper to make such a scene," Mrs. Weasley said, but he didn't care about her opinions right now, either.
"They're children, Molly, leave them be. I'll handle this," Mr. Weasley said, sounding firmer than Harry had ever heard him sound before. "Harry, Hermione? The Express is due to leave in a few minutes. Will you go through the portal, please? You can go together, if you'd like--we'll help you with your trunks."
Hermione sniffled a little bit and murmured "It's all right, Mr. Weasley. I... wouldn't want to put you to any trouble. Thank you." Letting go of each other wasn't easy; in fact, it almost hurt. But Hermione's little smile made Harry feel as if he could kill a dozen trolls with an ordinary spoon and fly to the Moon on a clapped-out school broom if only she asked him to do it, so he was sure he could keep moving until they were on the train, as long as she'd be there with him.
They all passed through the portal, Ron and his brothers first, Hermione ahead of Harry, and then Ginny and her parents behind him. He didn't know why it seemed to stick slightly before letting him in, as if somebody had been on the point of trying to stop him and then thought better of it, but he didn't care. If he'd needed to smash his way through the wall using the Reductor Curse, which he understood wouldn't actually be taught them until Fifth Year, he would have done, without taking the time to remember he didn't know how to cast it. Nothing was going to separate him from his Hermione when she needed him.
They reached the Express just as the engineer gave the next-to-last warning blast on the whistle. Mr. Weasley levitated their trunks up into the carriage for them, rather than delay the departure as they lifted them up themselves. Hermione took Harry's hand as they searched for a compartment, and he didn't care in the least that Ron rolled his eyes, although Ginny's little squeak did make him feel slightly uncomfortable. I hope she'll calm down, so that she and Hermione can get to know each other and become friends. I'm sure Hermione would like somebody to talk to who's not a boy but who thinks about something other than dresses and makeup the way Lavender and Parvati do.
They found an empty compartment, stowed their trunks, and sat down, Ron and Ginny on the righthand bench and Harry and Hermione on the opposite one. After a moment, Harry put his arm about Hermione. She put hers about him, and somehow his hand that wasn't cupping her shoulder ended up clasped in her other hand, the one that wasn't squeezing tight to his own shoulder. Ron began to make fake retching noises, but a glare from Harry stopped him. Ginny looked a little sad and a little scared, and Harry felt sorry for her in the corner of his mind that wasn't completely taken up with his concern for Hermione. I wonder if Ron told her that same stupid story about having to fight a troll that the Twins told him? I suppose I should have told her it was rubbish, or at least I could've done if I'd ever found a chance to talk with her beyond saying 'Good morning' and having her blush and stammer and sneak little glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking.
After a minute of silent sitting for the four of them, just as the train was beginning to gather speed on its way out of the station, a tiny blonde girl came into their compartment. For an instant Harry thought she'd boarded the Express without any luggage, but then he saw that a trunk was following behind her on many little wooden feet. "Hello, Ginevra, hello Ronald, hello very pretty and kind-looking boy and girl who both are hugging each other very sweetly and whom I've not had the honour of meeting yet although I deduce that you, sir, are Harry Potter," she said, all in one breath as if she had three or four times more lung capacity than her body could possibly have held.
"Hey, Looney," Ron said. Hermione bristled a bit at that, and Harry wondered if he was going to have to tell his first friend to shut up because he was hurting Hermione with every word he said. "Seen any Nogglefarts lately? Or do you smell them, ha ha?"
"Nargles, Ronald. They're called Nargles, and they've no scent at all. If they had any, the Umgubular Slashkilters would be able to track them down by it and eat them." the girl said, as calmly as if Ron had told her she was looking well and asked about the weather.
"Hi, Luna," Ginny whispered. The two girls hugged, very quickly and lightly, as if Ginny didn't want to be held for more than a few seconds. Harry thought the blonde looked disappointed, but he hadn't the energy to wonder why that was, as he was too busy worrying about Hermione and whether and at what point he should ask her what was wrong and how he could help her instead of waiting for her to decide it was time to tell him.
"I hope you've been having a good summer whilst Daddy and I were in Sweden, Ginevra. And I do hope as well that next year your mother will let you go with us, because the countryside is gorgeous, there are some wonderful places where we could go bathing under the full moon when the fairies are out dancing, and I think Swedish would sound wonderful in your voice, although I have to admit that the language lozenges taste something like salted liquorice drops with a hint of strong coffee, pickled herring, and lingonberries, which isn't nearly as pleasant a combination as it sounds. But the taste goes away after only an hour or two, and it leaves you able to say Jag älskar Sverige--that means 'I love Sweden,' and I'm very sure you will--in a nice Örebro accent. I've got a few extra lozenges in my trunk, if you'd like one, and that way we could practise our Swedish together all winter."
"Um, thanks, Luna, maybe later. Summer was... it was a summery kind of summer."
"I'm glad you had Harry Potter to keep you company for part of it, at least." Harry wasn't sure what to think of that, but he did find himself feeling badly that he'd let Ron stop him getting to know Ginny. Maybe if he had done she'd have calmed down enough to talk to him, and then he'd be able to introduce her to Hermione and then maybe Hermione would have another friend. That was important to Harry because he never wanted Hermione to be lonely and there were times when he couldn't be with her, for example when she was in the girls' dorm, so it would be a good thing if Ginny could keep her company there.
"Compartment's kind of full," Ron said. "Want to find another one, Harry, so the girls can have their space to talk about ponies or whatever it is girls talk about and we can get another game of chess in?"
Harry opened his mouth to tell Ron to shut up, but the blonde girl spoke first. "I most sincerely doubt that Harry Potter will be letting go of his charming brunette companion, Ronald. I can't blame him at all, really, as they clearly care for each other a great deal and she is extremely attractive as well. She's prettier than a Willoughbite in spring plumage, and that's very, very pretty. I'll be delighted and honoured and charmed to meet you when you're feeling up to meeting me, Harry Potter's Beautiful Brunette Companion, but please don't let me disturb you until you're ready."
Harry looked at Hermione, concerned she might be uncomfortable with the girl's words, but instead his best friend was smiling, very slightly, although her eyes were glimmering as if she'd come close to crying, and still might. She let go of his hand, and held hers out to the blonde, who took it. "Hello. I'm Hermione... Hermione, well, Granger. Pleased to meet you."
"I'm Luna Lovegood. It's an honour to meet you, Hermione. And I'm sure Ginevra's most delighted to meet you as well."
"And I'm Harry Potter." Harry held out his hand, feeling a little stupid for having just introduced himself to someone who'd obviously worked out who he was.
Luna smiled and squeezed his hand almost as tightly as Hermione had done. "It's wonderful to meet you and Hermione, Harry. And what's more, it's a good time for us to meet. It could have gone differently, and I've a bad feeling we'd not have met for ages, at least not properly, but I think it's much better this way for all of us. And now I'll give your hand back to Hermione, because I can tell that she needs it much more than I do right now."
Ron rolled his eyes again. "There's really not room, Looney. Hadn't you better find another compartment to share with all your Nargley-whatsits?"
"Shut up, Ron," Ginny said. "Luna and I don't take up that much space." She sat down again, a few inches closer to Ron, and the blonde sat beside her.
Harry didn't want to push Hermione into telling him what had her feeling so upset, not with an aggrieved Ron and two girls she'd only just met in the compartment. He turned towards her, their eyes met, and she smiled at him. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered. "I don't know what I'd have done if I'd not seen you. But as soon as I did, I knew we could get through this, somehow."
Had her parents died? Harry hoped not. He'd spent all his life that he could recall without his, but he couldn't imagine how terrible it would have been to known them for almost thirteen years and only then to lose them. Well, he'd take care of her if she needed him to, in any way that he could. "I'm here, Hermione. Whatever it is, we'll get through it together."
"What, did the price of parchment go up a--" Ginny drove her elbow into Ron's midsection. Harry would have thanked her, if he'd had the attention to spare.
"Oh, Harry, I... I don't know what I'm going to do. Mummy and Daddy... that is, my parental figures, they... well, they got the bill for my Second Year's tuition, and they decided that they were spending far too much money for me to learn 'magic tricks' that I couldn't even demonstrate in a controlled setting. They said ninety-five percent of what they'd seen could be explained by sleight of hand, and that even though there did seem to be some kind of real phenomenon going on in the other five percent it couldn't be worth much, since we don't see flying carpets taking passengers away from planes and trains and Wizards putting up satellites or building moon colonies, or doing anything to cure cancer and HIV, either." Her breath caught in her throat, and he wondered if she might start sobbing.
If Harry had been standing, somebody could have knocked him down with a feather. He'd always believed that Hermione's parents must be very nice people, to have such a wonderful daughter. He'd imagined a kind, loving couple who encouraged their daughter to learn and grow, the sort of parents he liked to think his own mother and father might have been if they'd lived. He remembered her showing up alone when they met to buy their school supplies in Diagon Alley, but she'd said they were very busy with their patients and he'd assumed that they knew Hermione was a responsible person and could be trusted to go on her own. He'd wished he could see them collect her outside the Leaky Cauldron at the end of the afternoon, envisioning a good-looking couple driving a high quality car, but not a stupid flashy one like the cars Uncle Vernon always drove, who would greet their daughter with hugs and a kiss on the cheek outside the Leaky Cauldron. He'd imagined them asking about her day as they sat down to dinner, the way a good family would do. He'd almost imagined himself joining them, although he'd never wanted to impose on Hermione's family.
"It... it's all right, Hermione. I... if you need help, I've got more than enough gold in my vault, and it seems to fill up over the year as if I'd never taken anything out the last time I was in Gringotts." He was dimly conscious of Ron glaring at him, but Ginny elbowed her brother before he could say anything.
"Oh, Harry, I couldn't... they'd not pay a single Knut. They said they'd only let me go at all in First Year because McGonagall suggested they might not have a choice, and because they thought surely I'd see how stupid it all was and be home before Christmas holidays with a valuable lesson learnt. They said they'd raised me to be rational and logical and to know that computers and microbiology did infinitely more good in the world than turning a teacup into a hedgehog or a grown woman who should know better pretending to be a cat. And they said I'd already wasted one year I could have spent at a respectable grammar school, that if I went back I was never going to catch up enough to get decent GCSEs, and even if I did somehow manage to sit for any A-Levels I'd never make the cut for Oxford or Cambridge or even one of the 'lesser universities'."
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'll do whatever I need to help you. I promise."
"Oh, Harry. They... they told me that if I went back I could ask some Wizard or Witch to adopt me, or to keep me as a... well... a something, because I'd no longer be their daughter if I were to break the social contract by throwing away all the resources they and the rest of society had put into raising me. And I'm here. I couldn't give up magic, and I couldn't not see you again."
"I'm sorry, Hermione. And I don't know what a something is, but I'll always take care of you. My vault's more than enough for both of us, and when I asked the Goblins they said there was more family money I could use if it were really needed. You're my very best friend, Hermione."
"I don't want to be a burden, Harry. I... maybe Professor McGonagall can help, or the Headmaster."
Harry liked the idea of McGonagall or Dumbledore adopting Hermione as a granddaughter. That would be nice, because he was sure they'd be kind and caring grandparents. But what if it wasn't possible? What if they got to Hogsmeade Station, and Hermione were told to go? What if she begged and pleaded and they finally let her stay as an assistant to Hagrid or, worse, Filch? He imagined seeing his best friend sweeping in the corridors, straining her ears at doors to hear something of the classes, or following Hagrid about the grounds and carrying his tools for him. Harry would give her his notes, but it wouldn't be enough. He couldn't bear the thought of his brilliant and beautiful friend looking more worn and more haggard and hopeless with every day that went by. "Hermione, listen to me. I have the money, and I'll find some way of making more if we need it. I'm told I'm famous, and that must be worth something. There's nothing I'll not do if it's what I must do to help you."
"Harry, I..." She broke down sobbing at last, and he turned on the bench to face her, gathering her in his arms. She buried her face in his shirt, and he could feel tears soaking through to his skin. That was fine. His shirt could be wet, if that was what needed to happen for Hermione's sake.
"Hermione, I promise that I will give you whatever you need. And if for some reason the professors say I'm not allowed to pay your Hogwarts fees I'll go away with you, even if we have to sleep rough in the Forbidden Forest. I promise you that I'll always take care of you as if you were my own." He felt as if he should have put something after those two words, but he didn't know if he should say "sister" or just plain "family" or maybe even "wife," so he didn't.
She murmured something. He thought it might have been "I'm yours, Harry," but he wasn't sure and he wasn't about to ask her to repeat herself. She pressed herself against him, as tightly as she could, so close that not even a sheet of paper could have been slipped between them, and he held her as she cried, stroking her hair, rubbing her back, and whispering gentle words in her ear. Harry had never felt more needed, not even when they'd stopped Voldemort taking the Philosopher's Stone, as if everything else in his life, most definitely including the whole Boy Who Lived business, were simply a minor footnote to his central role as the person who would always be there to care for Hermione Granger as long as they both should live.
Part Two
A Harry Potter fanfic
By Andrew yclept Aelfwine
Rating: PG-13. 22,200 words total. Second Year AU warning. Harry/Hermione Warning. Gentle and Consensual Male Dominant/Female Submissive Warning. Collars and Cuddling Warning. Lack of Explicit Content Warning. Luna Warning. Good!Snape Warning. Yours Truly warning.
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The characters and situations of the Harry Potter series are copyright J.K. Rowling. They may not be used or reproduced commercially without permission. The use of these characters and situations is not to be construed as challenge to said copyright. They are merely borrowed for this work of non-commercial fanfiction, from which the author derives no financial benefit.
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So, this is a Second Year AU, in which Harry's promise to always care for Hermione leads to our favourite couple finding themselves in an unusual relationship and making the very best of it. Yes, there is a collar, but this is in every way a safe, sane, and consensual relationship between decent people, with absolutely no humiliation, coercion, or violence. Still, if that particular kink bothers you, you might want to go and read "On a Bright Summer Morning," "Hufflepuffs and Harmony," or "Summer of the Bundling Charm" instead.
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Slight edit for name of location:19 December 2013.
Harry put his and Hermione's corked sample vial into the rack on the Potions Master's desk. Hoping Professor Snape hadn't really noticed them, he began to turn away. Just then, he heard the dreaded words: "See me after class, Mister Potter."
Harry looked up. He had no real answer, but at least Snape didn't seem to expect one. Was there less scorn in Snape's voice than he'd become accustomed to in First Year? Harry wasn't sure. He glanced at Hermione. She didn't seem to have any better notion of things than he did, but he felt the sympathy in her eyes. These days it seemed as if more often than not they each knew precisely what the other was thinking or feeling. It had always been that way, a little bit, ever since they became friends. He wasn't sure if it had actually increased, or if it was only their now almost constant proximity that had increased his awareness of it.
They left the front of the room and returned to their table, where they cleaned out their cauldron. Harry wiped down their other tools and put both them and the ingredients away, whilst Hermione packed up their books in Harry's bag. It was a routine that had become as natural for them as breathing.
They were always partners now. The school rules for "non-standard pets: i.e. other than a cat, rat, owl, or toad" said that Harry had to keep Hermione "under his control, or that of a designated staff member or peer possessing sufficient physical and magical strength, at all times when outside his assigned House of residence." Surprisingly, Snape had made no attempt to force Harry to partner with one of the so-called official pupils in place of his pet, even during their first Potions lesson under Hermione's altered status.
When the bell rang and the others left the room, Harry and Hermione went to stand before the Professor's desk. "Weasley, Longbottom, Patil, Brown, I did not ask you to see me. Please go on to your lunch. Your friends will be joining you shortly." Harry looked away from Hermione and over to the door, where his friends were waiting. And did he see other students beyond them in the corridor, and perhaps even catch a glimpse of Slytherin colours, not to mention Millicent Bulstrode's curly black mane and Daphne Greengrass' blonde plaits? "I promise you," Snape continued, "that Mister Potter and Miss Gr... that is, Miss Pottersbond will not be harmed. Go on."
The young Gryffindors almost ran out the door. Harry stood silent, with his bag slung over his shoulder and Hermione's leash in his hand. He wished he could let go of the leash and take her hand instead, but he didn't dare risk Snape taking points for failure to control his pet. Not that Snape was anything like as quick to take points off him as he had been in First Year, but Harry wasn't inclined to take chances.
When Snape drew his wand, Harry tensed and prepared to drop, taking Hermione down with him and covering her body with his own. But the professor simply cast a Colloportus and locked the door. "Now, then, Mister Potter, I find myself in the position of having to do something I have never done before: apologise to a pupil. From your first day here at Hogwarts, I have, I must confess, treated you unfairly, all because I could not look beyond your father's features to see your mother's eyes and your mother's kind spirit so strong in you.
"However, recent events have made the depth of my error abundantly clear to me. Mister Potter, I am sorry for my poor treatment of you, and in the future I will try my best to consider you as the good and decent young man you clearly are."
"Sir?"
"Mister Potter, when it came time for your first lesson after Miss Pottersbond's... change in status, I expected to see her humiliated, and to find myself in an impotent rage at my inability to protect yet another bright young witch. Instead, I found her dressed in her full school uniform, just as before, with only the unfortunate legal necessity of her collar and leash to mark her as any different to your fellow pupils. More than that, I saw you treating her with every possible courtesy, as if she had become your betrothed rather than your chattel, and even rebuking Mister Weasley when he made an unkind remark. With that, the scales fell from my eyes and I began to understand that you are far more than a mere copy of your father.
"Although I must admit that the adult James Potter was a decent man, in his, that is to say, in our Second Year he was little more than a mean-spirited bully. I suspect that if L... any young girl had fallen under his legal control as Miss Pottersbond has fallen under your own, he would have immediately gone to work figuring out just how far he could push her public disgrace without falling afoul of the laws protecting human bondservants from physical and emotional abuse. In all likelihood he would have attempted to parade her in the nude through the corridors of this school, and when that was forbidden by the Headmaster or his Head of House he would have dressed her in the most fragmentary and embarrassing costume which he could devise. She would have written every essay for him and for all of his friends, and each waking minute of her every day would have been spent at their beck and call."
Hermione hugged Harry round the shoulders. "Professor, you needn't hurt my Harry with this--" She cut herself off abruptly.
Harry hugged her. "Professor Snape, any statements by my Hermione are my own legal responsibility, not hers, and I will take all punishments assigned to her, as is my obligation under the school rules, sir. I will leave her in the keeping of Professor McGonagall during my detentions."
"Twenty points to Gryffindor for taking care of your master, Miss Pottersbond. And another twenty points for taking care of your pet, Mister Potter."
Both children were silent. After a moment, Snape continued "Understand that I am not describing the characteristic behaviour of the young James Potter in order to hurt you, but in order to explain to you that at twelve years of age you have matured to a degree that your father did not attain until he was very nearly a grown man. Even more significantly, his maturing was in many ways the result of your mother's influence. And I question if even she could have reached him as... from the same legal position which Miss Pottersbond holds with respect to yourself."
"Thank you, Professor."
"No need to think me, Mister Potter. Just, please, take care of Miss Pottersbond. And please take care of him, Miss Pottersbond."
"I will." They spoke almost as one voice.
"And now you'd best run along to lunch. It wouldn't do to have your friends worrying about you, would it?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
"You might choose to take a moment to see to your pet's comfort, Mister Potter. I'd recommend you do, if she should wish it. Although I would also request that you not take too long. I'll be remaining here for a few minutes, but if I should be in the Great Hall for a significant length of time without the pair of you making your appearance, I would expect that your friends will be telling the Hufflepuffs. As Professor Sprout tells me they're all convinced both of you should have been housemates of theirs, I'm certain they will be ready to abduct me and interrogate me as to your whereabouts. And considering that Miss Bulstrode and Miss Greengrass would in all likelihood join in with them, things could go very badly for me."
Hermione smiled. "We can't have that, Professor. Thank you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Pott... that is, Miss Pottersbond."
Hermione blushed and stammered. "Thank you, Professor Snape," Harry said. "From both of us."
Snape cancelled his locking spell, and they left the room as he turned back to the rack of samples. They kept their arms about each other.
Not more than twenty feet before the staircase there was a little alcove in the wall, something that might have been an old archer's niche with its arrow slit opened up and glazed. That didn't make much, or indeed any, sense, considering that it was on the same level as the rest of the dungeon and the view it gave was of nothing but lake bed and murky water, but in the context of Wizarding architecture, once one thought of all the moving staircases and doors that opened on blank walls or led to different rooms depending on what time of day it was, it probably wasn't so exceptionally strange, after all. The alcove wasn't as private as a broom cupboard, but right now, with most everyone in the school already sitting down to lunch, it would be private enough.
After all, they weren't going to do any of the things that older students sometimes did in the privacy of a cupboard. Harry and Hermione hadn't yet engaged in any physical acts more intimate than a lot of hugging, a bit of kissing, their nightly pyjama-clad snuggle in bed, and giving each other clothed back-and-shoulders rubs. And when they wanted to enjoy each others' company in those ways they had the comfortable private room that Professor McGonagall had assigned to Harry the day that Hermione became his pet, on the grounds that he was now head of a household and needed space for himself and his dependent.
Harry had just decided he'd follow Professor Snape's advice and ask Hermione if she wanted him to take her into the alcove for a hug when she said softly "Could we, err... stop for a bit?"
"Of course, love." Harry leant close to whisper the last word in her ear, and let Hermione draw him inside.
"Oh, sorry!" It took Harry a few heartbeats to realise that they'd bumped into Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass. Hermione was crimson.
He squeezed her tightly. "Sorry. Very sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you. We'll find somewhere else..." The little stone nook was just barely big enough for the four of them, but he had to believe Hermione would be uncomfortable at being hugged and kissed and having her hair stroked so close to two other girls, even if they were her friends. Not to mention that surely the two Slytherins would be uncomfortable at seeing Harry comfort her in front of them. That would be too intimate, much too close to the sort of thing that Professor Snape had praised him for not doing.
Sally-Anne Perks had asked if she could watch him kissing Hermione, one evening in the Common Room, about a fortnight after he'd been forced to put a collar and leash on his best friend. He'd not known how to respond. He'd not even understood why one of Hermione's former roommates would want to see them showing affection for each other. He'd wondered if it might be some harmless favour that girls would routinely ask of their friends and their friends' boyfriends, but then he'd felt Hermione stiffen beside him, which let him know there was something very wrong with it.
Fortunately, Parvati had overheard. She'd immediately asked Harry and Hermione to come over to the other side of the room and help herself and Lavender make sense of the chapter on Redcaps they'd been assigned as Defence homework, sparing Harry the awkward necessity of refusing the strange request directly. Sally-Anne hadn't asked again. He thought the other girls might have had a sharp talk with her that night, as it was a month after before she even spoke to him or to Hermione outside lessons.
"Oh, thank Merlin! You're all right? Both of you?" And now Millicent was blushing as well. "Err..."
"Millie and I were only taking a moment to go over our notes before lunch, of course. Can't let the Ravenclaws take all the best marks on the exams, can we?" Daphne's expression was deadpan.
"Oh, come off it, Daph. We wanted to be sure you were both all right. A dressing down from Professor Snape is never pleasant, and since the House of the Brave had all fled to the Great Hall, well, somebody had to do it."
"Thank you." It was all Harry could think to say.
"He actually... he only wanted to talk about Harry's mother. They were in the same year."
"Oh. Really? That's... not what I expected." Millicent still looked flustered. "Well, don't worry. Daph and I won't tell a soul, will we, Daph?"
"Of course we'll not."
"We respect your privacy. And Professor Snape's." Millicent's friendly smile was a lovely sight. In First Year, Harry would never have believed that a Slytherin would smile at him, unless perhaps they were gloating because something nasty had happened to him. He still didn't quite understand why Millicent and Daphne and so many of the other girls seemed to think very highly of him now, despite the fact that he was nearly always leading a girl about on a leash, but he was glad that they did. He'd spent most of his life with no companions at all, and even last year he'd only really had Ron and Hermione. It was nice to have more friends, even if he did wish it could have happened without the fraught situation that had precipitated it.
He still felt guilty about Hermione's change in status, despite her firm and constant insistence that she didn't blame him for archaic Wizarding laws and Hogwarts rules that had been created hundreds of years before they were born, not to mention the number of times she'd told him that, in spite of the embarrassment of having to wear a collar and be led on a leash when they were outside Gryffindor Tower, she was delighted to belong to him.
"And speaking of privacy, Millie, shouldn't we let Harry and Hermione have a bit of it? I'm thinking they surely didn't seek out an alcove so they could look over their notes."
"Right. If you'll let us out, we'll leave you two alone for a space. Enjoy!" Harry didn't know what to say to that. From Hermione's expression, she didn't, either. They both smiled at Millicent, and she smiled back, as if that was more than enough.
Daphne gave Harry a little pat on the back. "Have a good time, you two, and we'll see you at lunch. And don't worry, we'll let everyone know you're all right."
"Thank you. Both of you. For everything."
"Any time, Harry. Thank you for taking such wonderful care of our favourite Gryffindor study partner. Well, our first favourite Gryffindor study partner... you're the only person who's ever explained how to steer a broom through a crosswind without getting blown off course in a way that actually made sense to me, did you know that, Harry? My dad and my uncles and my Aunt Helena who plays Chaser for the Harpies have been trying to do that for years, and could never quite manage it. I borrowed a broom last week from my cousin Anthea--she's a Ravenclaw in the year ahead of us--and it worked perfectly."
"Oh. Err, no, I didn't. Thank you, Daphne." Harry had been quietly amazed to discover that Hermione had joined an informal study group during First Year that included not only Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls but a couple of Slytherins. He'd never noticed until she told him during the first week of their new relationship, asking if she could possibly, once in a while, spend a few minutes with them. He'd been hurt that she would think he'd not let her continue to spend time with her friends, a hurt that healed a few moments later when he told her he'd never stop her doing anything that mattered to her and she'd hugged him hard enough to take his breath away, a hug that had led to their first full mouth-to-mouth kiss.
The only thing more amazing had been how readily the girls had accepted him into their study group. At first he'd only stayed because he didn't know any of them well enough to feel comfortable handing Hermione's leash to her. But within a fortnight he found he'd somehow, without any conscious intention on his part, become not only a participant but an actual friend of Susan, Hannah, Padma, Mòrag, Millicent, and Daphne.
Millicent gave him another little pat on the shoulder as the two Slytherin girls left the alcove. When they were gone, Harry and Hermione stepped back inside. "Um, so, would you, well, like...?"
Hermione smiled at him. "Yes, please." They embraced, and for a long moment they simply stood together, like that. After a little while, Hermione nuzzled at his cheek. He knew what that meant. It was exactly what he wanted as well. He trailed his lips along her cheek, until they reached hers.
It probably wasn't a full-fledged snog, at least as far as Harry understood what that meant. But it was a nice, pleasant, wonderful kiss between him and his very best beloved friend, who also happened to be his pet. Not long ago, he'd not really been able to imagine ever doing such a thing. Not with Hermione or with anyone else. Before Hogwarts, virtually every physical contact he could recall had been painful. The first hugs he remembered had been from Hermione in the the chamber under the third floor corridor, and again before they got off the train in King's Cross Station at the end of First Year.
He'd only had the vaguest idea of what kissing even was. Certainly Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had never done such a thing, at least not in a place where they could be seen. He'd noticed pictures of folk in magazine adverts who were hugging each other and pressing their faces together, and he'd thought that somewhere, somehow, he'd seen someone else do something similar, but it had been as detached from his daily life as his vague, dreamlike memories of a gentle giant and a flying motorbike.
Hermione wound her fingers in the hair at his collar, pulling him closer to her. He liked it when she did that. He stroked the back of her neck and toyed with her plait. She'd taught him how to brush and plait her hair for her. That had quickly become one of his favourite things to do. He'd not tell Oliver Wood, of course, but he knew for certain that he liked it even better than flying.
They broke the kiss, and rubbed noses. That was called an Eskimo kiss, Hermione had told him, although she said it really should have been called an Inuit kiss, as that was what the Eskimos actually called themselves. Hermione smiled at him, very sweetly. "I love you, Harry. My own Master..."
"I love you, Hermione. But you know you don't have to call me 'Master'. It's not in the rules, even."
"I know. But... do you mind if I call you that, sometimes? I, well, I sort of like doing it. At least once in a while, when we're alone. It's all right if you'd rather I didn't. I understand..."
"Oh, Hermione, of course you can. You may, that is. As long as it makes you happy, it doesn't bother me at all."
She smiled even more brightly, and pressed her lips to the tip of his nose. "Thank you... Master. You know, the fact that you don't make me call you that is precisely why I enjoy it so much."
"Oh." He didn't altogether understand what she was getting at, but if it was what his Hermione wanted, that was good enough for him.
"Have I ever really thanked you for taking me in, Harry? I was so lost when my parents said they were tired of paying for me to learn 'magic tricks and mummery.' I didn't know what I'd do, except that I couldn't do what they were telling me to do, and I didn't know what would happen. But there you were, and you saved me. Thank you, thank you so much."
She buried her face in his chest, and he nuzzled her hair. "Of course you've thanked me, Hermione. You've been you, and you've kept on being you, and you've never blamed me for all this, well, the stuff with the collar and leash. I just wish I'd understood what it would mean when I said I'd take care of you as if you were my own, because I'm sure I could've found some other way to make sure you were safe and happy and could keep going to school. If only somebody had told me about Life Debts, and what they meant, and that saying I'd take care of a girl who owed me a Life Debt as if she were a part of my family meant she'd, well, belong to me, rather than becoming my sister or something..."
"Really, Master, I could never, ever, under any circumstances have been your sister. I know we're young, but I don't think it's at all healthy or natural for a sister to feel about her brother the way I feel about you, the way I've felt about you for as long as I've known you. I mean, I suppose it's possible that a few Purebloods might marry their siblings, judging by people like Malfoy or Crabbe and Goyle, or at least... do things with them, although most think the idea is just as sick as we do."
"Oh?" Harry wasn't sure what to think about that. Would it have actually been a bad thing if Hermione had become his sister, even to the point that it was better that she outright belonged to him? Put that way, he knew it was, since he couldn't stand the thought of her marrying someone else, and if he'd dared to think about marriage at all in First Year he would have realised he already felt that way.
Thinking about that made him think of the day in September when everything had changed.
#
Harry was caught up in the Weasley family's rush to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He knew they were running far too late, so late that he didn't even want to think about what time it actually was, or about how they'd get to school if the Hogwarts Express left before they could board. Instead, he concentrated on managing his trunk and Hedwig's cage. It would be very awkward to knock someone over or squash their toes, and he would feel terrible if they were truly hurt.
He had a tangle of thoughts in his head: How does the Statute of Secrecy survive this? Hasn't anyone in the Muggle world ever noticed that every year on the first of September there's a mob of weirdly dressed people with old-fashioned trunks and pet owls running through King's Cross Station? They can't all be ignoring everything, like that man in the grey suit with the mobile telephone--I'm sure Uncle Vernon will be getting one of those, even though he hates to talk on the telephone--who just nearly trampled Ginny underfoot. Is Hermione looking forward to seeing me? I wish Ginny weren't so shy, because they might like each other and Hermione would probably like to have a girl to be friends with. I've seen Ginny reading books more times than I've seen Lavender and Parvati reading anything that wasn't a fashion magazine, and she wasn't even in school. I do hope she'll get to know Hermione eventually...
And then he saw her. She was sat on her trunk, all alone next to the portal, one small pretty brown-haired girl, twelve years of age, dressed in a neat Muggle outfit of skirt and blouse and blazer. Naturally, she had an open book resting on her knee, although she wasn't looking at the pages, which surprised him. Why had Hermione not gone in and got on the train as soon as she was dropped off? Was she waiting just to see him? And what did it mean if she was? He felt as if his heart might burst in his chest, but he wouldn't mind if it did because it felt so warm and so happy that he was sure it would be a nice kind of heart bursting.
Ron called out "Oy, Hermione! What's up? Conductor tell you all your books would break the Express, so you'd have to leave half of them behind?" Harry wished a Bludger would appear and smash some manners, or at least some sense, into his red-headed friend. Oh well, Hermione will set him right.
But Hermione ignored Ron. Harry didn't know what to think. Was she having trouble hearing, as if her ears were stopped up with a cold? He drew nearer and said "Good morning, Hermione."
She sprang off her trunk, barely pausing to close her book and set it on the lid, and hurled herself into his arms, which he spread wide to catch her, obeying some reflex he'd never known he had. "Harry. Oh, Harry. So good to see you. I... I missed you." She was shaking, and clinging so tightly that he wondered if he might have Hermione-shaped bruises in an hour or two. He didn't care. It wasn't as if he'd not been bruised before, and if holding him with such force helped Hermione he was fine with it. There's nothing I'll not do if it's what Hermione needs done.
"I've missed you as well, Hermione." He stroked her back, his fingers making little circles. She was warm, solid, and real. For the first time he became fully aware of just how much better any day when he could see her was when compared with even the best day when he couldn't.
He thought he heard Ron say "Don't smother him, Herms." That was stupid; Hermione would never hurt Harry, any more than he'd hurt her, and she hated being called 'Herms.' He would've liked to hit Ron for hurting her feelings, but it was clear Hermione needed him to hold her far more than she needed him to fight with Ron.
"It's not at all proper to make such a scene," Mrs. Weasley said, but he didn't care about her opinions right now, either.
"They're children, Molly, leave them be. I'll handle this," Mr. Weasley said, sounding firmer than Harry had ever heard him sound before. "Harry, Hermione? The Express is due to leave in a few minutes. Will you go through the portal, please? You can go together, if you'd like--we'll help you with your trunks."
Hermione sniffled a little bit and murmured "It's all right, Mr. Weasley. I... wouldn't want to put you to any trouble. Thank you." Letting go of each other wasn't easy; in fact, it almost hurt. But Hermione's little smile made Harry feel as if he could kill a dozen trolls with an ordinary spoon and fly to the Moon on a clapped-out school broom if only she asked him to do it, so he was sure he could keep moving until they were on the train, as long as she'd be there with him.
They all passed through the portal, Ron and his brothers first, Hermione ahead of Harry, and then Ginny and her parents behind him. He didn't know why it seemed to stick slightly before letting him in, as if somebody had been on the point of trying to stop him and then thought better of it, but he didn't care. If he'd needed to smash his way through the wall using the Reductor Curse, which he understood wouldn't actually be taught them until Fifth Year, he would have done, without taking the time to remember he didn't know how to cast it. Nothing was going to separate him from his Hermione when she needed him.
They reached the Express just as the engineer gave the next-to-last warning blast on the whistle. Mr. Weasley levitated their trunks up into the carriage for them, rather than delay the departure as they lifted them up themselves. Hermione took Harry's hand as they searched for a compartment, and he didn't care in the least that Ron rolled his eyes, although Ginny's little squeak did make him feel slightly uncomfortable. I hope she'll calm down, so that she and Hermione can get to know each other and become friends. I'm sure Hermione would like somebody to talk to who's not a boy but who thinks about something other than dresses and makeup the way Lavender and Parvati do.
They found an empty compartment, stowed their trunks, and sat down, Ron and Ginny on the righthand bench and Harry and Hermione on the opposite one. After a moment, Harry put his arm about Hermione. She put hers about him, and somehow his hand that wasn't cupping her shoulder ended up clasped in her other hand, the one that wasn't squeezing tight to his own shoulder. Ron began to make fake retching noises, but a glare from Harry stopped him. Ginny looked a little sad and a little scared, and Harry felt sorry for her in the corner of his mind that wasn't completely taken up with his concern for Hermione. I wonder if Ron told her that same stupid story about having to fight a troll that the Twins told him? I suppose I should have told her it was rubbish, or at least I could've done if I'd ever found a chance to talk with her beyond saying 'Good morning' and having her blush and stammer and sneak little glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking.
After a minute of silent sitting for the four of them, just as the train was beginning to gather speed on its way out of the station, a tiny blonde girl came into their compartment. For an instant Harry thought she'd boarded the Express without any luggage, but then he saw that a trunk was following behind her on many little wooden feet. "Hello, Ginevra, hello Ronald, hello very pretty and kind-looking boy and girl who both are hugging each other very sweetly and whom I've not had the honour of meeting yet although I deduce that you, sir, are Harry Potter," she said, all in one breath as if she had three or four times more lung capacity than her body could possibly have held.
"Hey, Looney," Ron said. Hermione bristled a bit at that, and Harry wondered if he was going to have to tell his first friend to shut up because he was hurting Hermione with every word he said. "Seen any Nogglefarts lately? Or do you smell them, ha ha?"
"Nargles, Ronald. They're called Nargles, and they've no scent at all. If they had any, the Umgubular Slashkilters would be able to track them down by it and eat them." the girl said, as calmly as if Ron had told her she was looking well and asked about the weather.
"Hi, Luna," Ginny whispered. The two girls hugged, very quickly and lightly, as if Ginny didn't want to be held for more than a few seconds. Harry thought the blonde looked disappointed, but he hadn't the energy to wonder why that was, as he was too busy worrying about Hermione and whether and at what point he should ask her what was wrong and how he could help her instead of waiting for her to decide it was time to tell him.
"I hope you've been having a good summer whilst Daddy and I were in Sweden, Ginevra. And I do hope as well that next year your mother will let you go with us, because the countryside is gorgeous, there are some wonderful places where we could go bathing under the full moon when the fairies are out dancing, and I think Swedish would sound wonderful in your voice, although I have to admit that the language lozenges taste something like salted liquorice drops with a hint of strong coffee, pickled herring, and lingonberries, which isn't nearly as pleasant a combination as it sounds. But the taste goes away after only an hour or two, and it leaves you able to say Jag älskar Sverige--that means 'I love Sweden,' and I'm very sure you will--in a nice Örebro accent. I've got a few extra lozenges in my trunk, if you'd like one, and that way we could practise our Swedish together all winter."
"Um, thanks, Luna, maybe later. Summer was... it was a summery kind of summer."
"I'm glad you had Harry Potter to keep you company for part of it, at least." Harry wasn't sure what to think of that, but he did find himself feeling badly that he'd let Ron stop him getting to know Ginny. Maybe if he had done she'd have calmed down enough to talk to him, and then he'd be able to introduce her to Hermione and then maybe Hermione would have another friend. That was important to Harry because he never wanted Hermione to be lonely and there were times when he couldn't be with her, for example when she was in the girls' dorm, so it would be a good thing if Ginny could keep her company there.
"Compartment's kind of full," Ron said. "Want to find another one, Harry, so the girls can have their space to talk about ponies or whatever it is girls talk about and we can get another game of chess in?"
Harry opened his mouth to tell Ron to shut up, but the blonde girl spoke first. "I most sincerely doubt that Harry Potter will be letting go of his charming brunette companion, Ronald. I can't blame him at all, really, as they clearly care for each other a great deal and she is extremely attractive as well. She's prettier than a Willoughbite in spring plumage, and that's very, very pretty. I'll be delighted and honoured and charmed to meet you when you're feeling up to meeting me, Harry Potter's Beautiful Brunette Companion, but please don't let me disturb you until you're ready."
Harry looked at Hermione, concerned she might be uncomfortable with the girl's words, but instead his best friend was smiling, very slightly, although her eyes were glimmering as if she'd come close to crying, and still might. She let go of his hand, and held hers out to the blonde, who took it. "Hello. I'm Hermione... Hermione, well, Granger. Pleased to meet you."
"I'm Luna Lovegood. It's an honour to meet you, Hermione. And I'm sure Ginevra's most delighted to meet you as well."
"And I'm Harry Potter." Harry held out his hand, feeling a little stupid for having just introduced himself to someone who'd obviously worked out who he was.
Luna smiled and squeezed his hand almost as tightly as Hermione had done. "It's wonderful to meet you and Hermione, Harry. And what's more, it's a good time for us to meet. It could have gone differently, and I've a bad feeling we'd not have met for ages, at least not properly, but I think it's much better this way for all of us. And now I'll give your hand back to Hermione, because I can tell that she needs it much more than I do right now."
Ron rolled his eyes again. "There's really not room, Looney. Hadn't you better find another compartment to share with all your Nargley-whatsits?"
"Shut up, Ron," Ginny said. "Luna and I don't take up that much space." She sat down again, a few inches closer to Ron, and the blonde sat beside her.
Harry didn't want to push Hermione into telling him what had her feeling so upset, not with an aggrieved Ron and two girls she'd only just met in the compartment. He turned towards her, their eyes met, and she smiled at him. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered. "I don't know what I'd have done if I'd not seen you. But as soon as I did, I knew we could get through this, somehow."
Had her parents died? Harry hoped not. He'd spent all his life that he could recall without his, but he couldn't imagine how terrible it would have been to known them for almost thirteen years and only then to lose them. Well, he'd take care of her if she needed him to, in any way that he could. "I'm here, Hermione. Whatever it is, we'll get through it together."
"What, did the price of parchment go up a--" Ginny drove her elbow into Ron's midsection. Harry would have thanked her, if he'd had the attention to spare.
"Oh, Harry, I... I don't know what I'm going to do. Mummy and Daddy... that is, my parental figures, they... well, they got the bill for my Second Year's tuition, and they decided that they were spending far too much money for me to learn 'magic tricks' that I couldn't even demonstrate in a controlled setting. They said ninety-five percent of what they'd seen could be explained by sleight of hand, and that even though there did seem to be some kind of real phenomenon going on in the other five percent it couldn't be worth much, since we don't see flying carpets taking passengers away from planes and trains and Wizards putting up satellites or building moon colonies, or doing anything to cure cancer and HIV, either." Her breath caught in her throat, and he wondered if she might start sobbing.
If Harry had been standing, somebody could have knocked him down with a feather. He'd always believed that Hermione's parents must be very nice people, to have such a wonderful daughter. He'd imagined a kind, loving couple who encouraged their daughter to learn and grow, the sort of parents he liked to think his own mother and father might have been if they'd lived. He remembered her showing up alone when they met to buy their school supplies in Diagon Alley, but she'd said they were very busy with their patients and he'd assumed that they knew Hermione was a responsible person and could be trusted to go on her own. He'd wished he could see them collect her outside the Leaky Cauldron at the end of the afternoon, envisioning a good-looking couple driving a high quality car, but not a stupid flashy one like the cars Uncle Vernon always drove, who would greet their daughter with hugs and a kiss on the cheek outside the Leaky Cauldron. He'd imagined them asking about her day as they sat down to dinner, the way a good family would do. He'd almost imagined himself joining them, although he'd never wanted to impose on Hermione's family.
"It... it's all right, Hermione. I... if you need help, I've got more than enough gold in my vault, and it seems to fill up over the year as if I'd never taken anything out the last time I was in Gringotts." He was dimly conscious of Ron glaring at him, but Ginny elbowed her brother before he could say anything.
"Oh, Harry, I couldn't... they'd not pay a single Knut. They said they'd only let me go at all in First Year because McGonagall suggested they might not have a choice, and because they thought surely I'd see how stupid it all was and be home before Christmas holidays with a valuable lesson learnt. They said they'd raised me to be rational and logical and to know that computers and microbiology did infinitely more good in the world than turning a teacup into a hedgehog or a grown woman who should know better pretending to be a cat. And they said I'd already wasted one year I could have spent at a respectable grammar school, that if I went back I was never going to catch up enough to get decent GCSEs, and even if I did somehow manage to sit for any A-Levels I'd never make the cut for Oxford or Cambridge or even one of the 'lesser universities'."
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'll do whatever I need to help you. I promise."
"Oh, Harry. They... they told me that if I went back I could ask some Wizard or Witch to adopt me, or to keep me as a... well... a something, because I'd no longer be their daughter if I were to break the social contract by throwing away all the resources they and the rest of society had put into raising me. And I'm here. I couldn't give up magic, and I couldn't not see you again."
"I'm sorry, Hermione. And I don't know what a something is, but I'll always take care of you. My vault's more than enough for both of us, and when I asked the Goblins they said there was more family money I could use if it were really needed. You're my very best friend, Hermione."
"I don't want to be a burden, Harry. I... maybe Professor McGonagall can help, or the Headmaster."
Harry liked the idea of McGonagall or Dumbledore adopting Hermione as a granddaughter. That would be nice, because he was sure they'd be kind and caring grandparents. But what if it wasn't possible? What if they got to Hogsmeade Station, and Hermione were told to go? What if she begged and pleaded and they finally let her stay as an assistant to Hagrid or, worse, Filch? He imagined seeing his best friend sweeping in the corridors, straining her ears at doors to hear something of the classes, or following Hagrid about the grounds and carrying his tools for him. Harry would give her his notes, but it wouldn't be enough. He couldn't bear the thought of his brilliant and beautiful friend looking more worn and more haggard and hopeless with every day that went by. "Hermione, listen to me. I have the money, and I'll find some way of making more if we need it. I'm told I'm famous, and that must be worth something. There's nothing I'll not do if it's what I must do to help you."
"Harry, I..." She broke down sobbing at last, and he turned on the bench to face her, gathering her in his arms. She buried her face in his shirt, and he could feel tears soaking through to his skin. That was fine. His shirt could be wet, if that was what needed to happen for Hermione's sake.
"Hermione, I promise that I will give you whatever you need. And if for some reason the professors say I'm not allowed to pay your Hogwarts fees I'll go away with you, even if we have to sleep rough in the Forbidden Forest. I promise you that I'll always take care of you as if you were my own." He felt as if he should have put something after those two words, but he didn't know if he should say "sister" or just plain "family" or maybe even "wife," so he didn't.
She murmured something. He thought it might have been "I'm yours, Harry," but he wasn't sure and he wasn't about to ask her to repeat herself. She pressed herself against him, as tightly as she could, so close that not even a sheet of paper could have been slipped between them, and he held her as she cried, stroking her hair, rubbing her back, and whispering gentle words in her ear. Harry had never felt more needed, not even when they'd stopped Voldemort taking the Philosopher's Stone, as if everything else in his life, most definitely including the whole Boy Who Lived business, were simply a minor footnote to his central role as the person who would always be there to care for Hermione Granger as long as they both should live.
Part Two