Open Your Eyes Chapter Thirteen
Title: Open Your Eyes (13/?)
Author: Cristofle (Liz)
Characters: Harry/Hermione primarily. Harry, Hermione, and Ron will appear significantly, but this is ensemble friendly, including just about everyone. The Weasley family, Kingsley, Angelina Johnson, Teddy Lupin, Neville, Luna, the Patil twins, and Dean will definitely appear in more than passing appearances.
Summary: "This isn’t going to go away, is it?" The day after the kiss, Harry and Hermione struggle with the aftermath and the issue of Ron. Neville visits Harry with a clue about Gabriel.
Spoilers: Heavy and specific spoilers all the way through 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows'. Also beginning in this chapter, spoilers for ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything, would I REALLY have written that DH epilogue? I own nothing, JKR owns everything, please don't sue.
Author’s Note: It has been a long, longgggggg time. Heh. My computer crashed, my notes were lost, I had other obsessions, etc. If this chapter is choppy, I really do apologize- I had quite a bit of it written on my old laptop, and lost the disc with all my old files. On the bright side, I was re-inspired by Half-Blood Prince (the movie, I mean) and have a fair chunk of the next chapter written, which will be largely flashbacks to the end of Hermione and Ron’s relationship. I don’t want to ignore Ron, as I’ve said before.
At first when Hermione arrived at work the next morning, all Harry could do from his spot at his desk was grin at her.
The smile was so big, it nearly felt like it would break his face. Hermione smiled back, lingering in the doorway for a long moment, as their gazes simply locked in charged heat.
Until Harry realized Angelina was staring at him and he promptly spilled tea all down his robe.
Angelina made no attempt not to laugh at him; he flushed and flicked his wand at the stain. Hermione turned bright red herself and scurried over to her desk, dropping sheaves of parchment on it. “Good morning, everyone,” she said to her desk.
Angelina raised her brows, speculative now. “Good morning, Hermione,” she said slowly.
Harry choked on what was left of his tea at the look Angelina shot him. “Good morning,” he coughed weakly. “Hermione, should we be off to Potions and Antidotes?” he asked hastily, before he did anything to further embarrass himself. He stood up and nearly tripped over his robes.
Well, anything else.
“Of course,” she agreed, her voice just a touch higher than usual, her hands just slightly more nervous as she smoothed her hair back. “See you when we get back, Angelina.”
“Yes, you will,” Angelina said pointedly to her, and Hermione flushed bright pink. She and Harry hastily left, seemingly simultaneously thinking it would be best to get out of there as quickly as possible.
Harry waited until they were safely away from the office before pointing out what they were both thinking. “If we act like that in front of Ron, we’re doomed.”
“I know, I know,” she said a little fretfully, still playing with her hair. “We simply need…some time, a bit of space, to even figure out what it is we’re doing…”
“I’d think it was fairly obvious what we were doing last night.” Harry’s voice was low and intense. Hermione felt her cheeks flush pink again, as much with the memory of the kiss as with his tone.
You know how you build up these moments in your mind?
“No, that part is clear,” she agreed softly. “Still, there’s no denying how much there is to be considered.”
Harry sighed. “True. And we’re right in the middle of this investigation, and our training, and you and Ron have just started speaking again…” He dragged his hand through his hair, temporarily making Hermione feel as though she were staring at the 16 year old version of her best friend.
“For now, let’s just focus on Potions,” she evaded. “No need to upset Dawlish even more.”
“Unless we feel like it,” Harry muttered. Hermione’s lips twitched and in deference to what Dawlish had forced Harry to endure, she let the fairly mild barb slide.
The Potions lesson didn’t go as poorly as it could have. Harry was determined to get this out of the way, particularly given the current climate- Kingsley needed him investigating. The only way to get it out the way was to be successful. Instead of being distracted by what happened with Hermione, he found himself oddly bolstered by it, driven by her encouraging smiles. He was fairly certain Renee Peabody in the Potions department who was in charge of their teaching suspected it was someone other than him using Polyjuice Potion as a result of his success, but he didn’t pay much attention to that.
“Harry!” Hermione all but bubbled over happily as they left the room, as excited as she’d ever been when he’d had a good day back at Hogwarts. “That was a really good lesson!” Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed with pure pleasure this time. Harry found himself staring at her again, his bright green eyes locked on her face. “I’ve told you, you don’t need Snape’s book to have talent at Potions, you just need to focus- Harry!”
For Harry had hastily pulled her aside. He was so quick, she didn’t realize until he was pressing her gently against a wall that they were in a quiet, abandoned corridor. “Harry,” she repeated, breathlessly now. She wasn’t sure if it was a protest or a plea, but any semblance of protest vanished as he gently brushed her hair away from her face, skimming his fingers down her cheek before leaning in and kissing her.
Once again, it was like the world was on fire.
Part of her had wondered as she had lain awake staring at her ceiling the night before, if the kiss hadn’t been a fluke. If she hadn’t SO anticipated it, so desired it, for so long, that she’d overblown it in her own mind.
Now she knew that wasn’t the case.
In no time at all, she had wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer still as he ran his hands up her back and the kiss went on. She wasn’t exactly sure how long it had gone on- even more wasn’t sure how they’d be able to stop- when a noise nearby startled them both and broke them apart. Somebody was walking by. Whoever it was kept going, but it did the trick, reminding them both of where they were and the privacy they lacked. Breathing heavily, they didn’t look at each other for a long minute. Ultimately, Harry stepped away just slightly and their eyes met again.
“This isn’t going to go away, is it?” Hermione asked softly, as unclear as ever about whether that was a positive or a negative. Right now it simply felt certain that this feeling was not going to die.
Harry once again reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, his hand shaking just slightly. “No. No, it’s not.”
“We need to talk about this,” she said breathlessly.
“I know. I know.” Harry took a deep, bracing breath. “Seems we’re never alone all the sudden, is all.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’m never ungrateful for all the people in my life, not after how I spent most of the first 11 years. Still, a bit of privacy here and there wouldn’t be a bad thing right about now.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We don’t have it here, regardless,” he added regretfully. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You are?” Hermione protested without thinking, then immediately flushed yet again.
If she wasn’t careful, her face was going to end up permanently pink.
Harry’s lips twitched despite himself. “Not about the actual…event,” he teased lightly. “In all modesty, I don’t think there’s much to be sorry about.” Hermione just shook her head, but felt herself smiling all the same. “More the place and time,” he went on. “Besides, I actually do have some things to run by you- Neville and I got to talking over the weekend.”
“Really?” Hermione asked curiously as they finally moved out the corridor and headed back to the Auror’s office. “About the case?”
“In a way,” Harry answered, silently thanking Merlin when they got to the office and Angelina wasn’t there. He loved Angelina, but he wasn’t up for her staring during this particularly conversation. “Neville said he could hear the whispering too. And he said when Sirius…” he trailed off, swallowing hard. “When he fell, he thought they got a little louder.”
Hermione touched his knee comfortingly as Sirius’s name was brought up, even as she frowned thoughtfully. “So you heard them…Neville heard them…Luna heard them…and I didn’t the first time, but I did more recently.” She sat back in her chair, still thinking. “What ties all that together?” she murmured, almost to herself.
“It’s like the thestrals.”
Harry wasn’t even sure where the thought had come from, he was dimly surprised when the words came out of his mouth. But they made sense as they did, and he could tell they did to Hermione as well from the way she suddenly straightened.
“You’re right,” she said, startled. “You, Neville, and Luna could all see the thestrals, and you all heard the voices. I couldn’t see thestrals at the time, and I couldn’t hear the voices. But now…” she trailed off. Now she saw thestrals perfectly well, and only now did she understand that terrible price she’d paid to see them, how foolish her childhood envy had been. “It’s called the Room of Death,” she said quietly. “Maybe it’s not quite the same experience to those who haven’t witnessed it.”
Harry stared at his feet. “I wanted to go through it, d’you remember? You were scared. I had the strangest urge to just walk right through it, as if there were people waiting for me on the other side.”
Hermione nodded. “I was frightened,” she admitted. “I knew- I just knew somehow- that if you went through that veil, we could never get you back. But then when I went in there just recently, I felt the same thing. I couldn’t exactly make out the voices, but it was as if they sounded familiar nonetheless, as if someone was calling for me.”
“Why did it get louder for Neville?” Harry wondered out loud. “He and Sirius…they never even knew each other.”
“The ability to see thestrals isn’t based on love,” Hermione pointed out gently. “Neville…” she reached for his hand now, as if she could somehow soften the blow. “He watched Sirius die. That has powerful ramifications, human and magical.”
Harry just nodded, still unable to look up.
Watched Sirius die
Fell backward in a graceful arch
“This is something,” he said out loud, deliberately changing the subject. “But it’s still not exactly a motive. If the veil just kills people, if it even just causes people to want to kill themselves…there are other ways, and certainly easier ways, to accomplish that. All you need is a few rounds with the Cruciatus Curse to feel like you’d rather die.”
“I know,” Hermione sighed, sitting back in her chair again. “Still, you’re right. This is something, somewhere to start. I hate feeling like we have nothing to go on unless this man kills again- obviously, I don’t want him to, but I feel like he won’t stop until we make him stop.”
“So we will,” Harry said simply. They locked gazes at last, and he smiled faintly. “Come on, we took down Lord Voldemort. We can handle this.” Hermione’s lips quirked in response, and they just stared at each other for a long moment.
“Hermione?”
Angelina’s voice abruptly broke the moment; Hermione jumped and turned around. “Angelina,” she said a little breathlessly. Angelina was in the doorway, still looking at them in that speculative way.
“Lunch?” she asked simply.
Hermione sighed inwardly. She knew Angelina knew something; might as well get it over with. She gave Harry a resigned look before standing up and fastening her cloak. “The usual?”
“Sounds good,” Angelina answered. “See you in a bit, Harry.” He nodded at her and watched them go, then tapped his fingers idly on his desk. He wondered briefly about going to George’s store and seeing what he was up to for lunch, but before he even got the chance he heard a light tap on the door. He looked up and a genuine smile broke out at the sight of Neville. “Neville, hello,” he greeted his old friend, standing up.
“I sent a message to Kingsley, asking to come,” Neville explained, walking in and grasping Harry’s hand in a firm shake. “I got what might be a lead.”
Harry raised his brows. “Really. Sit,” he offered, bringing a chair sliding over with a flick of his wand and sitting down after Neville did.
“It was from Slughorn, of all people,” Neville began. “Remember, you once told us Slughorn had been in hiding from the Death Eaters for about a year when you and Professor Dumbledore went to find him?” Harry nodded, taking out a quill and some parchment. “Well, as we all know now, in those times when you were doing something like that, you would come across witches and wizards doing something similar.” Harry nodded again, remembering all the groups he, Hermione, and Ron had come across when they’d been in hiding after finding the first Horcrux. “Slughorn remembers coming across a Bulgarian witch- she’s dead now, it only served to make Slughorn more paranoid because the Death Eaters found her not long after Dumbledore died- who was hiding from them as well. She’d been friendly with Kakaroff, see, and she was afraid of what that might mean given that Kakaroff was hiding from the Death Eaters. Anyway, they commiserated over being in hiding, not wanting to either join the Death Eaters or declare allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix, and in passing she mentioned a Gabriel.” Harry sat up a bit, his quill flying over the parchment now. “It sounded to Slughorn like…well, he gave me the memory.” Neville handed him a tiny vial with a silvery strand Harry knew was a memory inside. Harry flicked his wand, and a large bowl of water appeared. He flicked it again, and a shimmering charm settled over it, turning it into a Pensieve. He stood and dumped the memory into the water, then bent over until his face touched the water. He felt the familiar sense of being upended into something vast and endless; when he sat he was in a small corner of a bar he didn’t recognize. The other members at the table were Slughorn and a woman with long dark hair and a thick accent, not unlike Kakaroff’s.
“I vas happy to be running into you,” the woman was saying to Slughorn. “Times like these, you see all kinds.”
Slughorn chuckled, although the sound was less cheerful than Harry recalled he usually sounded. It was more dark and bitter. “Too true, dear Rumiana.”
“Had I known Igor vas once a Death Eater…!” the woman he’d called Rumiana trailed off. “I haff no desire in joining myself, but vhen you haff become friends with a traitor…” she sighed. “And even the ones who haf not joined as of yet. I...how do you say…stumbled into an old acquaintance, not two veeks ago. Gabriel.” Harry’s heart started beating a bit faster. “Of those who valk the line between light and dark, he is one of those who tilts towards the dark.”
“I know what you mean,” Slughorn nodded. “Some, you feel are just waiting to see more clearly which side is going to be the winning side.”
“Exactly!” Rumiana nodded. “And I had zee impression…I felt as though he vas hoping that side would be He Who Must Not Be Named, he just vas not…clear as of yet. I vill say this- it is not a good thing to have a man like that plotting against you, and I vorry there are more like him. Then the Dark numbers will be that much more simple to multiply…”
The memory faded out, and Harry found himself back in his office. “Neville, you’re brilliant,” he said, his mind racing even as he hastily took down careful notes of the memory he’d just witnessed. “So, from the sounds of it, this Gabriel wasn’t a Death Eater, but it wasn’t his morals that were keeping him from that- he simply wasn’t sure Voldemort was going to win.”
“Maybe Slughorn sympathized with that feeling more than he let on,” Neville muttered sardonically, no doubt remembering Slughorn’s tendency to hand-pick students he felt would take him the furthest on their coattails.
Harry held up his hands. “Slughorn did come back in the final battle,” he pointed out. “Even though a lot of people thought it would be a hopeless cause. And he was ashamed of what he had told Voldemort about Horcruxes. He said he ‘wasn’t proud’, that he thought he’d done terrible damage that day. Slughorn’s ambitious to find the best and the brightest, no doubt about that, but I don’t think he ever desired Voldemort to win.”
“I know,” Neville admitted. “And he did give me this memory, and it was a fair bit easier to convince him than I thought it would be. I hope it helps.”
“It does,” Harry assured him. “Every bit closer we get to understanding him, that’s how much closer we are to stopping him. You’ve been wonderful, maybe more help than anyone else.” Neville flushed with pleasure and looking over at him, with thoughts of how trustworthy he was still running through his mind, a sudden thought occurred to him. “Feel up to a spot of lunch?” he asked abruptly.
“You two kissed.”
Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the awed tone in Angelina’s voice. “As I have now repeated three times, yes. We kissed.”
Angelina shook her head to clear it as Hermione forcibly reminded her how repetitive she was being. “And?”
Hermione fought the urge to blush for what felt like the millionth time that day. “And what?” she asked evasively.
Angelina made no attempt to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. “Don’t be daft, it doesn’t suit you. How WAS it?” she asked eagerly.
Hermione lost her fight with the blush. “Oh, all right. It was incredible, it was amazing, it was more than I thought it would be, are you happy?”
Angelina let out a squealing giggle that had half the restaurant looking at them. Hermione glared at her. “Sorry,” she said hastily, although she was still grinning. “I knew it, I KNEW it. I knew it would be like that. So…what now?”
“We haven’t exactly been able to sit down and talk about that,” Hermione admitted.
Angelina raised her brows. “You two took a fair amount of time getting back from Potions and Antidotes.”
Hermione sighed heavily. “Alright, fine, we kissed again, and yes, it was exactly as good as the first one.” She rested her chin in her hand. “I know you think this is romantic, Angelina, and maybe to some extent it is, but we’re toying with very old bonds here. His and mine, his and Ron’s, mine and Ron’s which is just barely recovering from the last disaster. I never would have planned this.”
Angelina sobered somewhat. “I know,” she said, more quietly now. “But you and Ron broke up a long time ago, and he’s found someone else now. You have a right to be happy.”
“With his best friend?” Hermione returned softly. “And even without that, look at what happened the last time. I know Harry isn’t Ron, I know that, but we’re gambling…everything here.”
Angelina reached over, touched her hand. “It’s always a gamble to fall in love. But isn’t it a better gamble to take that ride with your best friend?”
Hermione softened a little, smiling faintly. “Perhaps.” She paused for a long moment. “I told him last night, you know. It just sort of slipped out. I told him I was in love with him. I don’t know if I’d even admitted it to myself before that, that it had gone this far.”
“What did he say?” Angelina asked, her tone again a little breathless.
Hermione allowed her smile to widen just a bit. “That’s when he kissed me.”
Angelina sank back in her chair. “Wow,” she sighed.
“You and Hermione kissed?”
Neville’s voice was thankfully low in the little café about halfway down Diagon Alley, but the inflection was incredulous.
All Harry could do was nod. “We kissed,” he confirmed. It had hit him in his office, looking at his old friend- he DID have friends that weren’t in the Weasley family. Ron and Neville were friends as well, but it felt like a whole other level of wrong to bring one of Ron’s brothers into the mix. Speculation like George’s was one thing, confirmation was another. Neville had always been trustworthy, had always been loyal, had always been a good listener.
Neville was shaking his head now, still looking stunned. “I thought…I felt…it was like something has been a little bit different between you two recently, but I couldn’t figure out why. Now…I suppose I know.”
“I’m sorry to lay this on you,” Harry murmured, rubbing at his forehead. “I just…I’m not sure what to do. When Hermione and I are together, it feels…right. But then there’s Ron to consider, and I feel like I’m betraying my best friend.”
“I don’t know about betrayal,” Neville protested. “You’ve just…you’ve got to tell him, you have to be honest. I think if you could smooth that out, this could be something terrific. I mean, it’s you and Hermione. The best witch and wizard of our age.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do,” Neville insisted. “Not just because of all the stories and the legends already going around about how he was defeated, but just…the way you both are. I’ve admired you both so much ever since our school days, maybe more than anyone else. I think we were all worried Ron and Hermione would explode, but I don’t think it would be like that with the two of you. We’ve grown up, all of us. It’s time to let both of you move on.”
“I don’t know how I’d feel in Ron’s shoes, if our situations were reversed,” Harry confessed heavily. “I might feel betrayed, I might feel resentful. I don’t want to ever do anything to lose my best friend. Ron is like a brother to me.”
“Then just tell him,” Neville repeated. “He has Demelza now, it’s not like he’s still in love with Hermione, right?”
“No, I don’t think he is, but it’s beyond that,” Harry tried to explain. “He might feel like she always wanted this, and like I was just waiting for them to end to make my move.”
Neville frowned. “But you…waited over a year to then make it?”
“I didn’t say it was entirely logical,” Harry allowed. “But I still feel like this violates a major best mate clause, and Ron has always felt a little…second fiddle to me, no matter how ridiculous that is. I promised him once, a long time ago, that it wasn’t like that between Hermione and me.”
“Well…it wasn’t then,” Neville said slowly. “But it’s been years, hasn’t it? Things change. He’s changed.”
“I don’t know if he’s changed that much, and I don’t know that it’s fair to expect him to,” Harry admitted. “She’s the one he fancied for years, the first girl he fell in love with. I’m supposed to be his best friend.”
“Then what else can you do but be honest with him?” Neville pointed out. “She’s your best friend too, always has been, you can’t just ignore what’s happening.”
Harry nodded slowly, letting the words roll around in his head. “You have a point. It’d be one thing if they were still together, or if she didn’t feel the same way…then it might be better to just push it down. But that’s not really going to work here, is it?”
“Doesn’t sound like it,” Neville said, his tone gentle and kind and sounding oddly like Professor Dumbledore. “You’re a good friend, Harry. One of the best. Ron knows that.”
Harry’s lips flickered upwards. “Thanks. And thanks for coming,” he added. “I’ve got to get back to the office, tell Hermione what you told me. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for this, Neville.”
“No problem. You’ll let me know if there’s anything else I can do?” Neville asked. “About anything,” he added quietly as he and Harry went to shake hands.
Harry nodded. “I will.” He left the restaurant with Neville and watched him Disapparate before doing the same, ending up in his usual spot outside of his office. Hermione was waiting for him.
“Kingsley told me Neville was here,” she began.
“He was, we went out to lunch,” Harry explained, motioning her back in the office. “Dawlish here?”
She shook her head. “Not at the moment.”
He followed her back to their desks. “Neville got some information from Slughorn,” he explained, nodding a greeting to Angelina. “He got a memory, of a witch- later killed by Death Eaters- mentioning a wizard by the name of Gabriel. The highlight is that this was someone she’d known long ago who wasn’t a Death Eater, but basically thought they had the right way of thinking. We know all about those.”
Angelina shook her head in disgust. “Too afraid to outright join, I suppose?”
Harry frowned thoughtfully. “It sounds almost…colder than that. He just wanted to be assured he was joining the winning team.”
“This could really help us,” Hermione said, examining the notes Harry gave her. “In both that we could narrow down a search field quite a bit using this witch Slughorn knew, and that it helps us understand more who we’re dealing with. We’ve said all along that these crimes don’t appear to be motivated by rage or at the very least aren’t committed by someone overtaken by vengeance or passion- well, this fits, doesn’t it?” She glanced at the bowl on his desk. “Is that the memory?”
Harry nodded. “Go ahead,” he said, motioning to it. Instead of falling into it, she stirred the water with her wand and replayed the memory for all of them.
“An old acquaintance,” she murmured when it was done. “Unfortunately, that could be anything, but we’ve got somewhere to start, at least. And another tie to up North.” She looked up. “Kingsley’s seen this?”
Harry nodded. “We stopped by on our way out to lunch as well; he’s on it.”
“I’ll do some of my own research, see what I can come up with.” Hermione tapped her nails on the desk. “So we’ve got our theory on hearing the voices, this Rumiana woman, and a bit more on the kind of personality this Gabriel is.”
“Which is a right sight more than we had yesterday,” Harry finished for her. For maybe the first time, it felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel with this investigation.
“I’m thinking of doing my own translation of The Tales of Beedle The Bard,” Hermione announced as she flopped next to Harry on his couch.
Harry raised his brows. “Really?” he asked, surprised and impressed.
Hermione nodded. “I know it seems a bit ambitious and random, but you should see some of the other translations out there, like for “The Tale of The Wizard and the Hopping Pot” just because it encourages good magical and Muggle relations. And this one woman, Beatrix Bloxam, wrote an absolute appalling alternate ending to it.” She twirled her hair around her finger absently. “Professor Dumbledore left some really helpful notes in his copy. I just think it might be an enjoyable side project, whenever I have the time.”
“Go for it,” Harry encouraged her. “Teddy absolutely loves when you read to him from the book, I can only imagine other kids would enjoy your take on the stories.”
“Thanks,” Hermione said, a little surprised and pleased.
It was still so natural.
Being with Harry was the most natural thing in the world. He was still her best friend, they could still TALK like best friends. That was somewhat of a relief.
And yet…
Their gazes locked in the way that was happening at least five times a day as of late. Hermione felt her breath start to come a little bit faster.
“Hermione…” Harry began.
As if on cue, Ron came bursting in.
Hermione just briefly closed her eyes and barely shook her head; she could see Harry resisting an impatient sigh.
“Oh good, you’re here,” Ron said cheerfully, spotting Hermione on the couch. “Mind if I have a word?”
He can’t know. He can’t possibly know.
Still, it was Hermione’s turn to resist flashing Harry an expression of panic. “Of course,” she agreed out loud, praying her voice was steady. “Be right back,” she said to Harry, and followed Ron to the back porch. Whatever she was expecting Ron to say, it wasn’t what he actually said.
“I think we should plan Harry’s birthday party together,” he announced.
Hermione blinked. “What?” she said dumbly, before snapping herself back to awareness. “Oh! Right, it’s coming up.” In all the confusion, she had forgotten that they’d visited Hogwarts towards the end of term, which had always been her signal in the past that Harry’s birthday was approaching. She sat down on the steps. “This is going to be one of the difficult ones, although not as much as next year.”
Ron frowned. “What d’you mean?” he asked, sitting next to her.
“It’s his 21st birthday, Ron,” Hermione said patiently. “He’ll be the age…well, that his parents were when they died.”
Ron winced. “And here I thought I was being all thoughtful trying to make up for last year.”
Hermione laughed in spite of herself. “Well, that too. We can’t change what is, but we can do better than forcing him to have separate parties.”
“Merlin’s pants, next year.” Ron stared out into the trees. “I don’t think three years of planning and all the elvish wine ever made can help with that.”
Hermione winced; it wasn’t the most tactful of phrasings, but he had a solid point. “Well, one thing at a time. I think it’s a good idea, throwing him a party together.”
“How about your place?” Ron suggested. “He’ll be expecting it, from the Burrow.”
Hermione smiled a little. “Perfect,” she said softly. As Ron went on, suggesting ideas from amusing to outrageous, she felt more powerful stirrings of guilt than she had in awhile. She felt the old tugging between her two best friends. She felt the connection Ron had to Harry, and wondered- feared- that she was threatening it.
What are we going to do about this?
She had no idea.
Author: Cristofle (Liz)
Characters: Harry/Hermione primarily. Harry, Hermione, and Ron will appear significantly, but this is ensemble friendly, including just about everyone. The Weasley family, Kingsley, Angelina Johnson, Teddy Lupin, Neville, Luna, the Patil twins, and Dean will definitely appear in more than passing appearances.
Summary: "This isn’t going to go away, is it?" The day after the kiss, Harry and Hermione struggle with the aftermath and the issue of Ron. Neville visits Harry with a clue about Gabriel.
Spoilers: Heavy and specific spoilers all the way through 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows'. Also beginning in this chapter, spoilers for ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything, would I REALLY have written that DH epilogue? I own nothing, JKR owns everything, please don't sue.
Author’s Note: It has been a long, longgggggg time. Heh. My computer crashed, my notes were lost, I had other obsessions, etc. If this chapter is choppy, I really do apologize- I had quite a bit of it written on my old laptop, and lost the disc with all my old files. On the bright side, I was re-inspired by Half-Blood Prince (the movie, I mean) and have a fair chunk of the next chapter written, which will be largely flashbacks to the end of Hermione and Ron’s relationship. I don’t want to ignore Ron, as I’ve said before.
At first when Hermione arrived at work the next morning, all Harry could do from his spot at his desk was grin at her.
The smile was so big, it nearly felt like it would break his face. Hermione smiled back, lingering in the doorway for a long moment, as their gazes simply locked in charged heat.
Until Harry realized Angelina was staring at him and he promptly spilled tea all down his robe.
Angelina made no attempt not to laugh at him; he flushed and flicked his wand at the stain. Hermione turned bright red herself and scurried over to her desk, dropping sheaves of parchment on it. “Good morning, everyone,” she said to her desk.
Angelina raised her brows, speculative now. “Good morning, Hermione,” she said slowly.
Harry choked on what was left of his tea at the look Angelina shot him. “Good morning,” he coughed weakly. “Hermione, should we be off to Potions and Antidotes?” he asked hastily, before he did anything to further embarrass himself. He stood up and nearly tripped over his robes.
Well, anything else.
“Of course,” she agreed, her voice just a touch higher than usual, her hands just slightly more nervous as she smoothed her hair back. “See you when we get back, Angelina.”
“Yes, you will,” Angelina said pointedly to her, and Hermione flushed bright pink. She and Harry hastily left, seemingly simultaneously thinking it would be best to get out of there as quickly as possible.
Harry waited until they were safely away from the office before pointing out what they were both thinking. “If we act like that in front of Ron, we’re doomed.”
“I know, I know,” she said a little fretfully, still playing with her hair. “We simply need…some time, a bit of space, to even figure out what it is we’re doing…”
“I’d think it was fairly obvious what we were doing last night.” Harry’s voice was low and intense. Hermione felt her cheeks flush pink again, as much with the memory of the kiss as with his tone.
You know how you build up these moments in your mind?
“No, that part is clear,” she agreed softly. “Still, there’s no denying how much there is to be considered.”
Harry sighed. “True. And we’re right in the middle of this investigation, and our training, and you and Ron have just started speaking again…” He dragged his hand through his hair, temporarily making Hermione feel as though she were staring at the 16 year old version of her best friend.
“For now, let’s just focus on Potions,” she evaded. “No need to upset Dawlish even more.”
“Unless we feel like it,” Harry muttered. Hermione’s lips twitched and in deference to what Dawlish had forced Harry to endure, she let the fairly mild barb slide.
The Potions lesson didn’t go as poorly as it could have. Harry was determined to get this out of the way, particularly given the current climate- Kingsley needed him investigating. The only way to get it out the way was to be successful. Instead of being distracted by what happened with Hermione, he found himself oddly bolstered by it, driven by her encouraging smiles. He was fairly certain Renee Peabody in the Potions department who was in charge of their teaching suspected it was someone other than him using Polyjuice Potion as a result of his success, but he didn’t pay much attention to that.
“Harry!” Hermione all but bubbled over happily as they left the room, as excited as she’d ever been when he’d had a good day back at Hogwarts. “That was a really good lesson!” Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed with pure pleasure this time. Harry found himself staring at her again, his bright green eyes locked on her face. “I’ve told you, you don’t need Snape’s book to have talent at Potions, you just need to focus- Harry!”
For Harry had hastily pulled her aside. He was so quick, she didn’t realize until he was pressing her gently against a wall that they were in a quiet, abandoned corridor. “Harry,” she repeated, breathlessly now. She wasn’t sure if it was a protest or a plea, but any semblance of protest vanished as he gently brushed her hair away from her face, skimming his fingers down her cheek before leaning in and kissing her.
Once again, it was like the world was on fire.
Part of her had wondered as she had lain awake staring at her ceiling the night before, if the kiss hadn’t been a fluke. If she hadn’t SO anticipated it, so desired it, for so long, that she’d overblown it in her own mind.
Now she knew that wasn’t the case.
In no time at all, she had wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer still as he ran his hands up her back and the kiss went on. She wasn’t exactly sure how long it had gone on- even more wasn’t sure how they’d be able to stop- when a noise nearby startled them both and broke them apart. Somebody was walking by. Whoever it was kept going, but it did the trick, reminding them both of where they were and the privacy they lacked. Breathing heavily, they didn’t look at each other for a long minute. Ultimately, Harry stepped away just slightly and their eyes met again.
“This isn’t going to go away, is it?” Hermione asked softly, as unclear as ever about whether that was a positive or a negative. Right now it simply felt certain that this feeling was not going to die.
Harry once again reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, his hand shaking just slightly. “No. No, it’s not.”
“We need to talk about this,” she said breathlessly.
“I know. I know.” Harry took a deep, bracing breath. “Seems we’re never alone all the sudden, is all.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’m never ungrateful for all the people in my life, not after how I spent most of the first 11 years. Still, a bit of privacy here and there wouldn’t be a bad thing right about now.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We don’t have it here, regardless,” he added regretfully. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You are?” Hermione protested without thinking, then immediately flushed yet again.
If she wasn’t careful, her face was going to end up permanently pink.
Harry’s lips twitched despite himself. “Not about the actual…event,” he teased lightly. “In all modesty, I don’t think there’s much to be sorry about.” Hermione just shook her head, but felt herself smiling all the same. “More the place and time,” he went on. “Besides, I actually do have some things to run by you- Neville and I got to talking over the weekend.”
“Really?” Hermione asked curiously as they finally moved out the corridor and headed back to the Auror’s office. “About the case?”
“In a way,” Harry answered, silently thanking Merlin when they got to the office and Angelina wasn’t there. He loved Angelina, but he wasn’t up for her staring during this particularly conversation. “Neville said he could hear the whispering too. And he said when Sirius…” he trailed off, swallowing hard. “When he fell, he thought they got a little louder.”
Hermione touched his knee comfortingly as Sirius’s name was brought up, even as she frowned thoughtfully. “So you heard them…Neville heard them…Luna heard them…and I didn’t the first time, but I did more recently.” She sat back in her chair, still thinking. “What ties all that together?” she murmured, almost to herself.
“It’s like the thestrals.”
Harry wasn’t even sure where the thought had come from, he was dimly surprised when the words came out of his mouth. But they made sense as they did, and he could tell they did to Hermione as well from the way she suddenly straightened.
“You’re right,” she said, startled. “You, Neville, and Luna could all see the thestrals, and you all heard the voices. I couldn’t see thestrals at the time, and I couldn’t hear the voices. But now…” she trailed off. Now she saw thestrals perfectly well, and only now did she understand that terrible price she’d paid to see them, how foolish her childhood envy had been. “It’s called the Room of Death,” she said quietly. “Maybe it’s not quite the same experience to those who haven’t witnessed it.”
Harry stared at his feet. “I wanted to go through it, d’you remember? You were scared. I had the strangest urge to just walk right through it, as if there were people waiting for me on the other side.”
Hermione nodded. “I was frightened,” she admitted. “I knew- I just knew somehow- that if you went through that veil, we could never get you back. But then when I went in there just recently, I felt the same thing. I couldn’t exactly make out the voices, but it was as if they sounded familiar nonetheless, as if someone was calling for me.”
“Why did it get louder for Neville?” Harry wondered out loud. “He and Sirius…they never even knew each other.”
“The ability to see thestrals isn’t based on love,” Hermione pointed out gently. “Neville…” she reached for his hand now, as if she could somehow soften the blow. “He watched Sirius die. That has powerful ramifications, human and magical.”
Harry just nodded, still unable to look up.
Watched Sirius die
Fell backward in a graceful arch
“This is something,” he said out loud, deliberately changing the subject. “But it’s still not exactly a motive. If the veil just kills people, if it even just causes people to want to kill themselves…there are other ways, and certainly easier ways, to accomplish that. All you need is a few rounds with the Cruciatus Curse to feel like you’d rather die.”
“I know,” Hermione sighed, sitting back in her chair again. “Still, you’re right. This is something, somewhere to start. I hate feeling like we have nothing to go on unless this man kills again- obviously, I don’t want him to, but I feel like he won’t stop until we make him stop.”
“So we will,” Harry said simply. They locked gazes at last, and he smiled faintly. “Come on, we took down Lord Voldemort. We can handle this.” Hermione’s lips quirked in response, and they just stared at each other for a long moment.
“Hermione?”
Angelina’s voice abruptly broke the moment; Hermione jumped and turned around. “Angelina,” she said a little breathlessly. Angelina was in the doorway, still looking at them in that speculative way.
“Lunch?” she asked simply.
Hermione sighed inwardly. She knew Angelina knew something; might as well get it over with. She gave Harry a resigned look before standing up and fastening her cloak. “The usual?”
“Sounds good,” Angelina answered. “See you in a bit, Harry.” He nodded at her and watched them go, then tapped his fingers idly on his desk. He wondered briefly about going to George’s store and seeing what he was up to for lunch, but before he even got the chance he heard a light tap on the door. He looked up and a genuine smile broke out at the sight of Neville. “Neville, hello,” he greeted his old friend, standing up.
“I sent a message to Kingsley, asking to come,” Neville explained, walking in and grasping Harry’s hand in a firm shake. “I got what might be a lead.”
Harry raised his brows. “Really. Sit,” he offered, bringing a chair sliding over with a flick of his wand and sitting down after Neville did.
“It was from Slughorn, of all people,” Neville began. “Remember, you once told us Slughorn had been in hiding from the Death Eaters for about a year when you and Professor Dumbledore went to find him?” Harry nodded, taking out a quill and some parchment. “Well, as we all know now, in those times when you were doing something like that, you would come across witches and wizards doing something similar.” Harry nodded again, remembering all the groups he, Hermione, and Ron had come across when they’d been in hiding after finding the first Horcrux. “Slughorn remembers coming across a Bulgarian witch- she’s dead now, it only served to make Slughorn more paranoid because the Death Eaters found her not long after Dumbledore died- who was hiding from them as well. She’d been friendly with Kakaroff, see, and she was afraid of what that might mean given that Kakaroff was hiding from the Death Eaters. Anyway, they commiserated over being in hiding, not wanting to either join the Death Eaters or declare allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix, and in passing she mentioned a Gabriel.” Harry sat up a bit, his quill flying over the parchment now. “It sounded to Slughorn like…well, he gave me the memory.” Neville handed him a tiny vial with a silvery strand Harry knew was a memory inside. Harry flicked his wand, and a large bowl of water appeared. He flicked it again, and a shimmering charm settled over it, turning it into a Pensieve. He stood and dumped the memory into the water, then bent over until his face touched the water. He felt the familiar sense of being upended into something vast and endless; when he sat he was in a small corner of a bar he didn’t recognize. The other members at the table were Slughorn and a woman with long dark hair and a thick accent, not unlike Kakaroff’s.
“I vas happy to be running into you,” the woman was saying to Slughorn. “Times like these, you see all kinds.”
Slughorn chuckled, although the sound was less cheerful than Harry recalled he usually sounded. It was more dark and bitter. “Too true, dear Rumiana.”
“Had I known Igor vas once a Death Eater…!” the woman he’d called Rumiana trailed off. “I haff no desire in joining myself, but vhen you haff become friends with a traitor…” she sighed. “And even the ones who haf not joined as of yet. I...how do you say…stumbled into an old acquaintance, not two veeks ago. Gabriel.” Harry’s heart started beating a bit faster. “Of those who valk the line between light and dark, he is one of those who tilts towards the dark.”
“I know what you mean,” Slughorn nodded. “Some, you feel are just waiting to see more clearly which side is going to be the winning side.”
“Exactly!” Rumiana nodded. “And I had zee impression…I felt as though he vas hoping that side would be He Who Must Not Be Named, he just vas not…clear as of yet. I vill say this- it is not a good thing to have a man like that plotting against you, and I vorry there are more like him. Then the Dark numbers will be that much more simple to multiply…”
The memory faded out, and Harry found himself back in his office. “Neville, you’re brilliant,” he said, his mind racing even as he hastily took down careful notes of the memory he’d just witnessed. “So, from the sounds of it, this Gabriel wasn’t a Death Eater, but it wasn’t his morals that were keeping him from that- he simply wasn’t sure Voldemort was going to win.”
“Maybe Slughorn sympathized with that feeling more than he let on,” Neville muttered sardonically, no doubt remembering Slughorn’s tendency to hand-pick students he felt would take him the furthest on their coattails.
Harry held up his hands. “Slughorn did come back in the final battle,” he pointed out. “Even though a lot of people thought it would be a hopeless cause. And he was ashamed of what he had told Voldemort about Horcruxes. He said he ‘wasn’t proud’, that he thought he’d done terrible damage that day. Slughorn’s ambitious to find the best and the brightest, no doubt about that, but I don’t think he ever desired Voldemort to win.”
“I know,” Neville admitted. “And he did give me this memory, and it was a fair bit easier to convince him than I thought it would be. I hope it helps.”
“It does,” Harry assured him. “Every bit closer we get to understanding him, that’s how much closer we are to stopping him. You’ve been wonderful, maybe more help than anyone else.” Neville flushed with pleasure and looking over at him, with thoughts of how trustworthy he was still running through his mind, a sudden thought occurred to him. “Feel up to a spot of lunch?” he asked abruptly.
“You two kissed.”
Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the awed tone in Angelina’s voice. “As I have now repeated three times, yes. We kissed.”
Angelina shook her head to clear it as Hermione forcibly reminded her how repetitive she was being. “And?”
Hermione fought the urge to blush for what felt like the millionth time that day. “And what?” she asked evasively.
Angelina made no attempt to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. “Don’t be daft, it doesn’t suit you. How WAS it?” she asked eagerly.
Hermione lost her fight with the blush. “Oh, all right. It was incredible, it was amazing, it was more than I thought it would be, are you happy?”
Angelina let out a squealing giggle that had half the restaurant looking at them. Hermione glared at her. “Sorry,” she said hastily, although she was still grinning. “I knew it, I KNEW it. I knew it would be like that. So…what now?”
“We haven’t exactly been able to sit down and talk about that,” Hermione admitted.
Angelina raised her brows. “You two took a fair amount of time getting back from Potions and Antidotes.”
Hermione sighed heavily. “Alright, fine, we kissed again, and yes, it was exactly as good as the first one.” She rested her chin in her hand. “I know you think this is romantic, Angelina, and maybe to some extent it is, but we’re toying with very old bonds here. His and mine, his and Ron’s, mine and Ron’s which is just barely recovering from the last disaster. I never would have planned this.”
Angelina sobered somewhat. “I know,” she said, more quietly now. “But you and Ron broke up a long time ago, and he’s found someone else now. You have a right to be happy.”
“With his best friend?” Hermione returned softly. “And even without that, look at what happened the last time. I know Harry isn’t Ron, I know that, but we’re gambling…everything here.”
Angelina reached over, touched her hand. “It’s always a gamble to fall in love. But isn’t it a better gamble to take that ride with your best friend?”
Hermione softened a little, smiling faintly. “Perhaps.” She paused for a long moment. “I told him last night, you know. It just sort of slipped out. I told him I was in love with him. I don’t know if I’d even admitted it to myself before that, that it had gone this far.”
“What did he say?” Angelina asked, her tone again a little breathless.
Hermione allowed her smile to widen just a bit. “That’s when he kissed me.”
Angelina sank back in her chair. “Wow,” she sighed.
“You and Hermione kissed?”
Neville’s voice was thankfully low in the little café about halfway down Diagon Alley, but the inflection was incredulous.
All Harry could do was nod. “We kissed,” he confirmed. It had hit him in his office, looking at his old friend- he DID have friends that weren’t in the Weasley family. Ron and Neville were friends as well, but it felt like a whole other level of wrong to bring one of Ron’s brothers into the mix. Speculation like George’s was one thing, confirmation was another. Neville had always been trustworthy, had always been loyal, had always been a good listener.
Neville was shaking his head now, still looking stunned. “I thought…I felt…it was like something has been a little bit different between you two recently, but I couldn’t figure out why. Now…I suppose I know.”
“I’m sorry to lay this on you,” Harry murmured, rubbing at his forehead. “I just…I’m not sure what to do. When Hermione and I are together, it feels…right. But then there’s Ron to consider, and I feel like I’m betraying my best friend.”
“I don’t know about betrayal,” Neville protested. “You’ve just…you’ve got to tell him, you have to be honest. I think if you could smooth that out, this could be something terrific. I mean, it’s you and Hermione. The best witch and wizard of our age.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do,” Neville insisted. “Not just because of all the stories and the legends already going around about how he was defeated, but just…the way you both are. I’ve admired you both so much ever since our school days, maybe more than anyone else. I think we were all worried Ron and Hermione would explode, but I don’t think it would be like that with the two of you. We’ve grown up, all of us. It’s time to let both of you move on.”
“I don’t know how I’d feel in Ron’s shoes, if our situations were reversed,” Harry confessed heavily. “I might feel betrayed, I might feel resentful. I don’t want to ever do anything to lose my best friend. Ron is like a brother to me.”
“Then just tell him,” Neville repeated. “He has Demelza now, it’s not like he’s still in love with Hermione, right?”
“No, I don’t think he is, but it’s beyond that,” Harry tried to explain. “He might feel like she always wanted this, and like I was just waiting for them to end to make my move.”
Neville frowned. “But you…waited over a year to then make it?”
“I didn’t say it was entirely logical,” Harry allowed. “But I still feel like this violates a major best mate clause, and Ron has always felt a little…second fiddle to me, no matter how ridiculous that is. I promised him once, a long time ago, that it wasn’t like that between Hermione and me.”
“Well…it wasn’t then,” Neville said slowly. “But it’s been years, hasn’t it? Things change. He’s changed.”
“I don’t know if he’s changed that much, and I don’t know that it’s fair to expect him to,” Harry admitted. “She’s the one he fancied for years, the first girl he fell in love with. I’m supposed to be his best friend.”
“Then what else can you do but be honest with him?” Neville pointed out. “She’s your best friend too, always has been, you can’t just ignore what’s happening.”
Harry nodded slowly, letting the words roll around in his head. “You have a point. It’d be one thing if they were still together, or if she didn’t feel the same way…then it might be better to just push it down. But that’s not really going to work here, is it?”
“Doesn’t sound like it,” Neville said, his tone gentle and kind and sounding oddly like Professor Dumbledore. “You’re a good friend, Harry. One of the best. Ron knows that.”
Harry’s lips flickered upwards. “Thanks. And thanks for coming,” he added. “I’ve got to get back to the office, tell Hermione what you told me. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for this, Neville.”
“No problem. You’ll let me know if there’s anything else I can do?” Neville asked. “About anything,” he added quietly as he and Harry went to shake hands.
Harry nodded. “I will.” He left the restaurant with Neville and watched him Disapparate before doing the same, ending up in his usual spot outside of his office. Hermione was waiting for him.
“Kingsley told me Neville was here,” she began.
“He was, we went out to lunch,” Harry explained, motioning her back in the office. “Dawlish here?”
She shook her head. “Not at the moment.”
He followed her back to their desks. “Neville got some information from Slughorn,” he explained, nodding a greeting to Angelina. “He got a memory, of a witch- later killed by Death Eaters- mentioning a wizard by the name of Gabriel. The highlight is that this was someone she’d known long ago who wasn’t a Death Eater, but basically thought they had the right way of thinking. We know all about those.”
Angelina shook her head in disgust. “Too afraid to outright join, I suppose?”
Harry frowned thoughtfully. “It sounds almost…colder than that. He just wanted to be assured he was joining the winning team.”
“This could really help us,” Hermione said, examining the notes Harry gave her. “In both that we could narrow down a search field quite a bit using this witch Slughorn knew, and that it helps us understand more who we’re dealing with. We’ve said all along that these crimes don’t appear to be motivated by rage or at the very least aren’t committed by someone overtaken by vengeance or passion- well, this fits, doesn’t it?” She glanced at the bowl on his desk. “Is that the memory?”
Harry nodded. “Go ahead,” he said, motioning to it. Instead of falling into it, she stirred the water with her wand and replayed the memory for all of them.
“An old acquaintance,” she murmured when it was done. “Unfortunately, that could be anything, but we’ve got somewhere to start, at least. And another tie to up North.” She looked up. “Kingsley’s seen this?”
Harry nodded. “We stopped by on our way out to lunch as well; he’s on it.”
“I’ll do some of my own research, see what I can come up with.” Hermione tapped her nails on the desk. “So we’ve got our theory on hearing the voices, this Rumiana woman, and a bit more on the kind of personality this Gabriel is.”
“Which is a right sight more than we had yesterday,” Harry finished for her. For maybe the first time, it felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel with this investigation.
“I’m thinking of doing my own translation of The Tales of Beedle The Bard,” Hermione announced as she flopped next to Harry on his couch.
Harry raised his brows. “Really?” he asked, surprised and impressed.
Hermione nodded. “I know it seems a bit ambitious and random, but you should see some of the other translations out there, like for “The Tale of The Wizard and the Hopping Pot” just because it encourages good magical and Muggle relations. And this one woman, Beatrix Bloxam, wrote an absolute appalling alternate ending to it.” She twirled her hair around her finger absently. “Professor Dumbledore left some really helpful notes in his copy. I just think it might be an enjoyable side project, whenever I have the time.”
“Go for it,” Harry encouraged her. “Teddy absolutely loves when you read to him from the book, I can only imagine other kids would enjoy your take on the stories.”
“Thanks,” Hermione said, a little surprised and pleased.
It was still so natural.
Being with Harry was the most natural thing in the world. He was still her best friend, they could still TALK like best friends. That was somewhat of a relief.
And yet…
Their gazes locked in the way that was happening at least five times a day as of late. Hermione felt her breath start to come a little bit faster.
“Hermione…” Harry began.
As if on cue, Ron came bursting in.
Hermione just briefly closed her eyes and barely shook her head; she could see Harry resisting an impatient sigh.
“Oh good, you’re here,” Ron said cheerfully, spotting Hermione on the couch. “Mind if I have a word?”
He can’t know. He can’t possibly know.
Still, it was Hermione’s turn to resist flashing Harry an expression of panic. “Of course,” she agreed out loud, praying her voice was steady. “Be right back,” she said to Harry, and followed Ron to the back porch. Whatever she was expecting Ron to say, it wasn’t what he actually said.
“I think we should plan Harry’s birthday party together,” he announced.
Hermione blinked. “What?” she said dumbly, before snapping herself back to awareness. “Oh! Right, it’s coming up.” In all the confusion, she had forgotten that they’d visited Hogwarts towards the end of term, which had always been her signal in the past that Harry’s birthday was approaching. She sat down on the steps. “This is going to be one of the difficult ones, although not as much as next year.”
Ron frowned. “What d’you mean?” he asked, sitting next to her.
“It’s his 21st birthday, Ron,” Hermione said patiently. “He’ll be the age…well, that his parents were when they died.”
Ron winced. “And here I thought I was being all thoughtful trying to make up for last year.”
Hermione laughed in spite of herself. “Well, that too. We can’t change what is, but we can do better than forcing him to have separate parties.”
“Merlin’s pants, next year.” Ron stared out into the trees. “I don’t think three years of planning and all the elvish wine ever made can help with that.”
Hermione winced; it wasn’t the most tactful of phrasings, but he had a solid point. “Well, one thing at a time. I think it’s a good idea, throwing him a party together.”
“How about your place?” Ron suggested. “He’ll be expecting it, from the Burrow.”
Hermione smiled a little. “Perfect,” she said softly. As Ron went on, suggesting ideas from amusing to outrageous, she felt more powerful stirrings of guilt than she had in awhile. She felt the old tugging between her two best friends. She felt the connection Ron had to Harry, and wondered- feared- that she was threatening it.
What are we going to do about this?
She had no idea.