Good friends are like stars ...
Harry hadn't walked up this particular flight of stairs in several months. If he was completely honest with himself, it had been too long, and he was a shite friend who didn't even deserve to be walking up them now.
As it stood, though, their friendship had always been one of ups and downs. This wasn't the first time they'd gone for months without talking, and it certainly wasn't the first time that something he'd said or done had been the catalyst for the lack of contact. Through it all, however, there seemed to be the constant knowledge that whatever had been said, whatever rough words had been voiced when they perhaps ought not have been, there would be forgiveness.
He raised his arm, knocking on the heavy wooden door. Harry's knuckles vibrated with the magic of the wards on the flat. Next to Grimmauld Place, this was always the second heaviest warded flat in Great Britain. That he knew of, at least.
There were the sounds of movement behind the door, a soft voice calling out to someone else. The steps grew nearer, and Harry couldn't help the small thrill of embarrassment that raced through him. He glanced at the bottle of white wine in his hand and rolled his eyes at himself. It was stupid, a stupid gesture from someone who was horrible at apologizing and pants at relationships in general.
When the door opened, his green eyes peered from behind his glasses, corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile.
"Harry," Hermione said, surprise in her voice as she continued to look at him with a shocked expression on her face. "What are you doing here?"
"Not exactly sure, to be honest," he said, holding out the dark green bottle as if it explained everything.
Hermione looked at him for another long moment, before her gaze slid to his offering. She rolled her eyes before reaching out for the wine, an exasperated huff passing her lips. "A simple apology owl would have sufficed."
"When have you known me to do anything simple?" he countered, smile widening a bit more. It was always awkward with Ron and Hermione. Even though the three of them knew they could never stay mad at each other forever, that eventually whatever had driven them apart would dissolve, there was always that air of awkwardness when they moved past the fight and back into the easy friendship they'd always shared.
"Come in, come in."
Walking into Hermione's flat as she pulled the door open enough for him to slip inside, Harry cast a look around. It wasn't cluttered in the same fashion that the Burrow was cluttered - no, Hermione had her own version of clutter.
Every wall was lined with bookshelves, each one filled to bursting with titles that Harry knew had been scoured and marked for anything interesting or of use. The dining room table, or what would have been a table used for food if every square inch was not covered with texts and tomes that looked more ancient than some of the tapestries in Hogwarts, sat off to the right near a small kitchenette.
Harry knew from personal experience that the kitchen was decidedly not Hermione's area of expertise, and so it's lack of use for anything but another surface to store knowledge was unsurprising.
"Crookshanks, get down," Hermione scolded as she entered the kitchen, swatting at the large ginger cat who, with no small amount of disdain, leapt from the counter he'd been resting peacefully on and sauntered towards Harry with a flick in his tail. Harry eyed the too-knowledgeable feline as he neared and reached down to run a hand along Crookshanks back as the cat rubbed against his leg once before lazily taking a place in one of the chairs by the small fire Hermione had lit in her grate.
"Crookshanks seems to have forgiven me," Harry said, turning to watch as Hermione pulled two wine glasses from a cabinet that appeared to be full of different types of potions ingredients.
"Crookshanks is a cat and has a very short memory," Hermione answered, shutting the cabinet while throwing a look at Harry over her shoulder. When the cat gave a indignant meow, the witch sighed, "but yes, he always did seem to like you."
Harry couldn't help but glance back at Crookshanks. It did look like the cat was giving him an approving look, though whether that was because he was impressed Harry had sought Hermione out for an apology without someone having to tell him or because he'd remembered that white wine was Hermione's favorite, he wasn't sure. "Smart cat."
"He would have gotten more NEWTS than you, if he'd taken the test," Hermione said, holding out a glass towards him, a ghost of a teasing smile on her lips.
Smiling in return, Harry took the offered glass, though he wasn't a large fan of the Riesling she preferred. They took seats in front of the fire, Harry sitting on the floor as Crookshanks had claimed the only other chair in the flat for himself.
"So, how are you?" He asked, looking up at Hermione as she settled across from him.
"Fine. I'm working on a series of books that deal with the utilization of different types of herbs and their inherent properties when making healing potions. There has been an innumerable number of books on the subject in the past, but I've found several errors in each one. It's obvious they didn't do thorough research."
"Healing potions?" Harry asked, eyebrows rising slightly. "I wasn't aware you were studying healing."
"Oh, I'm not. I've plans to look at the herbs used in several different branches of magic. Several types of plants have historically been used for one purpose, without researching their full potential and the impact it could have on other knowledgeable pursuits. I started with healing because Ginny will be allowing me to work with Professor Snape at her new clinic, putting my ideas into practical use."
Harry couldn't help the small grimace. "You're going to be working with Snape?" Despite having the knowledge that Snape had been working for Dumbledore, and making sure that knowledge became public so he wasn't punished for crimes he'd been commanded to do, Harry still thought his ex-potions professor was a prat who wasn't fit for human contact.
"Once you get past the fact that he's nearly insufferable to work with, he does have knowledge that is indisputably larger than anyone else in his field."
"He's still a git," Harry said, shaking his head, "and you'll still work with him."
"I spent seven years working with you and Ron. I think I'll survive."
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but couldn't really blame her. She'd basically written their essays more than enough times to make her statement true. Shrugging instead, he leaned back against the chair, Crookshanks contented purring like a buzzing behind his ear. "I think you'll make a brilliant author-"
"Thank you."
"- If you can remember that not everyone speaks the same way you do and make it so they understand."
Hermione leveled him with a glare, "I'll make sure it's like I'm explaining it to you."
"Perfect," Harry said, smiling at her as her glare softened.
"And you? How is the Ministry? How many secretaries have you gone through since me?"
"Only two," he answered with a bit of pique in his voice. "Well, three, but I didn't drive Mira away. I don't think."
"Mira?"
"Miranda Montgomery. She took over after..." Harry wracked his brain for the name of the woman who'd been his secretary after Mac, but before Mira. He shrugged his shoulders. "Mira's been with me for a year, but she's graduating from University soon and got a position in the Experimental Charms Committee."
Hermione rose an eyebrow in his direction. "You were able to hold onto a secretary for over a year? That's rather impressive."
"Hey, I'm not that bad."
"I worked for you Harry, as your secretary."
"Yeah, but you knew how I was before you came in, and you've never had a problem telling me off."
"Which is exactly why it never worked out," Hermione said, lifting her glass in his direction.
Harry was more than glad the tension over them working together had dissipated over time. There were obvious excuses for his behavior - stress over being in a position he'd never wanted in the first being the main one - but he didn't want to spend any more time thinking about what had gone wrong and instead thinking of ways to move forward.
"Anyway, Mira'll be leaving soon and I'll be back to learning someone new."
"And having them learn you," Hermione added, nodding. "You do get out of the office, don't you? There have to be a few cases they call you in on."
Harry shook his head, taking a rather large drink from his glass, draining half the wine in a single gulp. "No, not really."
"But you're an Auror in the Magical Law Enforcement department in the Ministry of Magic. You've seen more action than most of those people combined."
"Yes, but I'm also the man in charge and there are endless requisitions and reimbursement forms that need my signature, meetings that need my input, business lunches that require my presence. I was an Auror," Harry said, no small about of disappointment in his tone.
"Oh, that's rubbish," Hermione said, the feeling in the outburst forcing Harry's eyes to her. "You are still an Auror, whether you're holed up in an office or flying through the streets of Hogsmeade, arresting students for disorderly conduct. Why don't you make time to go into the field? You've only been here a half hour and I can already tell you're miserable."
"I'm not miserable," Harry argued, frowning.
"You can't lie to me, Harry, you were never any good at it," she snapped, glare hard as she peered at him. "You became an Auror because you wanted to help people, keep people safe. It's what you've done your whole life. Signing reports and listening to meetings discussing budgets doesn't really sound like what you signed up for."
Harry set the glass of wine on the ground, crossing his legs beneath him. "I do what I can to help-"
"The best thing you could do, for you and those around you, is be who you are, and that is not a man behind a desk with a quill in hand."
"The head of the MLE has never really gone into the field once they'd gotten the position."
"And when have you ever cared how things are normally done, Harry?" Hermione asked, her gaze steady and intent on him.
He considered her question, unsure exactly how to answer her. There was silence in the warm room, the only sounds the crackling of the logs in the fire and the constant purrrrr of Crookshanks from behind him.
"I've missed you," he said, finally breaking the quiet in the room as he looked up at one of his best friends, despite the time that seemed to pass between visits.
"I've missed you too, Harry. Perhaps if you stopped being a git and owled me more, you wouldn't have to miss me."
"But then I wouldn't be who I am, and apparently that's best for everyone," he said, lips going crooked at she threw him another glare.
Summary: Harry visits Hermione to apologize, and she ends up giving him a little advice.
As it stood, though, their friendship had always been one of ups and downs. This wasn't the first time they'd gone for months without talking, and it certainly wasn't the first time that something he'd said or done had been the catalyst for the lack of contact. Through it all, however, there seemed to be the constant knowledge that whatever had been said, whatever rough words had been voiced when they perhaps ought not have been, there would be forgiveness.
He raised his arm, knocking on the heavy wooden door. Harry's knuckles vibrated with the magic of the wards on the flat. Next to Grimmauld Place, this was always the second heaviest warded flat in Great Britain. That he knew of, at least.
There were the sounds of movement behind the door, a soft voice calling out to someone else. The steps grew nearer, and Harry couldn't help the small thrill of embarrassment that raced through him. He glanced at the bottle of white wine in his hand and rolled his eyes at himself. It was stupid, a stupid gesture from someone who was horrible at apologizing and pants at relationships in general.
When the door opened, his green eyes peered from behind his glasses, corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile.
"Harry," Hermione said, surprise in her voice as she continued to look at him with a shocked expression on her face. "What are you doing here?"
"Not exactly sure, to be honest," he said, holding out the dark green bottle as if it explained everything.
Hermione looked at him for another long moment, before her gaze slid to his offering. She rolled her eyes before reaching out for the wine, an exasperated huff passing her lips. "A simple apology owl would have sufficed."
"When have you known me to do anything simple?" he countered, smile widening a bit more. It was always awkward with Ron and Hermione. Even though the three of them knew they could never stay mad at each other forever, that eventually whatever had driven them apart would dissolve, there was always that air of awkwardness when they moved past the fight and back into the easy friendship they'd always shared.
"Come in, come in."
Walking into Hermione's flat as she pulled the door open enough for him to slip inside, Harry cast a look around. It wasn't cluttered in the same fashion that the Burrow was cluttered - no, Hermione had her own version of clutter.
Every wall was lined with bookshelves, each one filled to bursting with titles that Harry knew had been scoured and marked for anything interesting or of use. The dining room table, or what would have been a table used for food if every square inch was not covered with texts and tomes that looked more ancient than some of the tapestries in Hogwarts, sat off to the right near a small kitchenette.
Harry knew from personal experience that the kitchen was decidedly not Hermione's area of expertise, and so it's lack of use for anything but another surface to store knowledge was unsurprising.
"Crookshanks, get down," Hermione scolded as she entered the kitchen, swatting at the large ginger cat who, with no small amount of disdain, leapt from the counter he'd been resting peacefully on and sauntered towards Harry with a flick in his tail. Harry eyed the too-knowledgeable feline as he neared and reached down to run a hand along Crookshanks back as the cat rubbed against his leg once before lazily taking a place in one of the chairs by the small fire Hermione had lit in her grate.
"Crookshanks seems to have forgiven me," Harry said, turning to watch as Hermione pulled two wine glasses from a cabinet that appeared to be full of different types of potions ingredients.
"Crookshanks is a cat and has a very short memory," Hermione answered, shutting the cabinet while throwing a look at Harry over her shoulder. When the cat gave a indignant meow, the witch sighed, "but yes, he always did seem to like you."
Harry couldn't help but glance back at Crookshanks. It did look like the cat was giving him an approving look, though whether that was because he was impressed Harry had sought Hermione out for an apology without someone having to tell him or because he'd remembered that white wine was Hermione's favorite, he wasn't sure. "Smart cat."
"He would have gotten more NEWTS than you, if he'd taken the test," Hermione said, holding out a glass towards him, a ghost of a teasing smile on her lips.
Smiling in return, Harry took the offered glass, though he wasn't a large fan of the Riesling she preferred. They took seats in front of the fire, Harry sitting on the floor as Crookshanks had claimed the only other chair in the flat for himself.
"So, how are you?" He asked, looking up at Hermione as she settled across from him.
"Fine. I'm working on a series of books that deal with the utilization of different types of herbs and their inherent properties when making healing potions. There has been an innumerable number of books on the subject in the past, but I've found several errors in each one. It's obvious they didn't do thorough research."
"Healing potions?" Harry asked, eyebrows rising slightly. "I wasn't aware you were studying healing."
"Oh, I'm not. I've plans to look at the herbs used in several different branches of magic. Several types of plants have historically been used for one purpose, without researching their full potential and the impact it could have on other knowledgeable pursuits. I started with healing because Ginny will be allowing me to work with Professor Snape at her new clinic, putting my ideas into practical use."
Harry couldn't help the small grimace. "You're going to be working with Snape?" Despite having the knowledge that Snape had been working for Dumbledore, and making sure that knowledge became public so he wasn't punished for crimes he'd been commanded to do, Harry still thought his ex-potions professor was a prat who wasn't fit for human contact.
"Once you get past the fact that he's nearly insufferable to work with, he does have knowledge that is indisputably larger than anyone else in his field."
"He's still a git," Harry said, shaking his head, "and you'll still work with him."
"I spent seven years working with you and Ron. I think I'll survive."
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but couldn't really blame her. She'd basically written their essays more than enough times to make her statement true. Shrugging instead, he leaned back against the chair, Crookshanks contented purring like a buzzing behind his ear. "I think you'll make a brilliant author-"
"Thank you."
"- If you can remember that not everyone speaks the same way you do and make it so they understand."
Hermione leveled him with a glare, "I'll make sure it's like I'm explaining it to you."
"Perfect," Harry said, smiling at her as her glare softened.
"And you? How is the Ministry? How many secretaries have you gone through since me?"
"Only two," he answered with a bit of pique in his voice. "Well, three, but I didn't drive Mira away. I don't think."
"Mira?"
"Miranda Montgomery. She took over after..." Harry wracked his brain for the name of the woman who'd been his secretary after Mac, but before Mira. He shrugged his shoulders. "Mira's been with me for a year, but she's graduating from University soon and got a position in the Experimental Charms Committee."
Hermione rose an eyebrow in his direction. "You were able to hold onto a secretary for over a year? That's rather impressive."
"Hey, I'm not that bad."
"I worked for you Harry, as your secretary."
"Yeah, but you knew how I was before you came in, and you've never had a problem telling me off."
"Which is exactly why it never worked out," Hermione said, lifting her glass in his direction.
Harry was more than glad the tension over them working together had dissipated over time. There were obvious excuses for his behavior - stress over being in a position he'd never wanted in the first being the main one - but he didn't want to spend any more time thinking about what had gone wrong and instead thinking of ways to move forward.
"Anyway, Mira'll be leaving soon and I'll be back to learning someone new."
"And having them learn you," Hermione added, nodding. "You do get out of the office, don't you? There have to be a few cases they call you in on."
Harry shook his head, taking a rather large drink from his glass, draining half the wine in a single gulp. "No, not really."
"But you're an Auror in the Magical Law Enforcement department in the Ministry of Magic. You've seen more action than most of those people combined."
"Yes, but I'm also the man in charge and there are endless requisitions and reimbursement forms that need my signature, meetings that need my input, business lunches that require my presence. I was an Auror," Harry said, no small about of disappointment in his tone.
"Oh, that's rubbish," Hermione said, the feeling in the outburst forcing Harry's eyes to her. "You are still an Auror, whether you're holed up in an office or flying through the streets of Hogsmeade, arresting students for disorderly conduct. Why don't you make time to go into the field? You've only been here a half hour and I can already tell you're miserable."
"I'm not miserable," Harry argued, frowning.
"You can't lie to me, Harry, you were never any good at it," she snapped, glare hard as she peered at him. "You became an Auror because you wanted to help people, keep people safe. It's what you've done your whole life. Signing reports and listening to meetings discussing budgets doesn't really sound like what you signed up for."
Harry set the glass of wine on the ground, crossing his legs beneath him. "I do what I can to help-"
"The best thing you could do, for you and those around you, is be who you are, and that is not a man behind a desk with a quill in hand."
"The head of the MLE has never really gone into the field once they'd gotten the position."
"And when have you ever cared how things are normally done, Harry?" Hermione asked, her gaze steady and intent on him.
He considered her question, unsure exactly how to answer her. There was silence in the warm room, the only sounds the crackling of the logs in the fire and the constant purrrrr of Crookshanks from behind him.
"I've missed you," he said, finally breaking the quiet in the room as he looked up at one of his best friends, despite the time that seemed to pass between visits.
"I've missed you too, Harry. Perhaps if you stopped being a git and owled me more, you wouldn't have to miss me."
"But then I wouldn't be who I am, and apparently that's best for everyone," he said, lips going crooked at she threw him another glare.
Summary: Harry visits Hermione to apologize, and she ends up giving him a little advice.