Post Tenebras Spero Lucem (1/?) (Harry/Hermione)
Title: Post Tenebras Spero Lucem (1/?)
Author: Tonya (tcooksey@gmail.com)
Pairing: H/Hr eventually
Rating: PG/PG-13 for time being
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the wonderful world of Harry Potter. No own, no sue.
Summary: In his seventh year, events at Hogwarts force Harry to come to terms with who he’s supposed to be.
A/N: This is a Slytherin!Harry fic which negates most of canon for this story. This also means this is not your typical Harry. This is a Harry with those mild Slytherin qualities from canon enhanced and catered to by his environment.
A/N#2: The title is latin for “After the darkness, I hope for the light.”
A/N#3: Feedback is always welcome! 'Tis my drug.
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The Hogwarts Express filled with the chatter of eager and excited students, each ready to return to the castle and begin a new term at Hogwarts. Among them, Harry Potter made his way through the gathered students to what had become his usual compartment with his two best friends, both of whom were trailing behind him at the moment.
As he and his friends made their way through the crowded train, Harry could feel the eyes of the younger students on him. The students parted willingly for them, and Harry smirked, rolling his eyes slightly at the display.
Seven years at the school. Seven years with these people, and he still had the ability to make them fear him like he, himself, were in fact the Dark Lord. He didn’t even have to speak, a simple glance in their general direction sending the younger students scurrying away like frightened rodents being sized up by the family cat. The novelty had soon wore off for Harry as his years at Hogwarts passed, but his friends were still able to get a good laugh or two out of the fear in the other students’ eyes.
“Move it, Weasel!”
Harry turned at Draco Malfoy’s voice. A few of the other students stopped as well, eager to see a fight if one just happened to erupt.
Draco had apparently crossed paths with Ronald Weasley, and at the present time, the two were sizing each other up.
“You don‘t bloody own the aisles, Malfoy,” the redhead shot back.
Harry rolled his eyes slightly as this seemed to happen every year without fail. The rivalry between the two of them was an inaugural event that, while entertaining to watch Ron attempt to stand up to Draco, had become progressively annoying with each passing year. Harry caught the eye of Blaise Zabini, who seemed more amused by this turn of events than Harry could muster at the moment. He folded his arms and simply watched, quite certain that in any moment Ron would back down like he always did. The boy had no backbone it seemed.
Before Ron could even think to crawl away with his tail between his legs, Hermione Granger stepped up to the boys, that typical stern look on her face. She grabbed a tight hold of Ron’s arm as she threw Draco a look of pure disgust.
“Why don’t you grow up, Malfoy?” she demanded. Her gaze traveled from Draco to Blaise and then lingered on Harry. “All of you.”
Harry, who had been content on simply observing this little spectacle stepped over to them, his arms still folded across his chest. “I was actually minding my own business, Granger,” he replied in the same even, cold tone that made the first and second years scurry in the opposite direction, “and I believe it’d be in your best interest to do the same.”
Hermione held his stare defiantly for a moment before turning to Ron, giving his arm a tug. “Come on, Ron. They’re just looking to start trouble.”
Draco sneered at the other boy, amused. “Better listen to your girlfriend, Weasel.”
Harry heard Ron give a very audible growl before Hermione gave him a final tug, silently pleading with him to back down.
“Ron.”
Ron looked at the girl and with a final growl of frustration, allowed himself to be pulled away. He shot Draco a look that could kill, which only elicited a laugh from Draco in response.
“Immature little prats,” Harry heard Hermione utter as she threw a departing hate-filled glare in his direction.
“Show’s over, munchkins,” Blaise said to all the students gathered around them. With that, the students quickly began to go about their business as if nothing had ever happened.
“Can we get on with our lives now, Malfoy?” Harry sighed as he turned and proceeded back towards their compartment.
“He bloody asks for it every year, Potter,” came the reply from over his shoulder.
Harry simply shook his head. Though he had to agree that Ron did have a tendency to bring the little encounters onto himself, he didn’t quite feel like giving Draco the thrill of knowing Harry thought he was right.
When they finally reached their compartment, Harry pulled back the door to reveal Pansy Parkinson sitting and waiting on their arrival, a copy of the Daily Prophet open in her lap. She frowned at them as the boys filed in and took their usual seats-- Harry next to her and Blaise and Draco across from them.
“What took you lot so long?” she asked.
Harry smirked over at Draco. “Three guesses.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Weasel.”
As Draco recounted to Pansy what had happened in her absence, Harry’s mind wandered back to the last hateful glance Hermione had given him.
Hell, he hadn’t even been personally involved in the confrontation, and yet, she had had the nerve to turn her defiant gaze on him the longest. She should have been pleased Harry hadn’t been the one to confront the redhead or things may not have gone quite as smoothly. He’d never admit it to anyone, but Draco had always had a better gauge on his anger. He had the ability to walk away from a showdown with a smirk and a knowing chuckle. Harry, however, could not--would not--fall back as easily as his friend.
The girl had been lucky.
Harry frowned deeply, pushing away all thoughts of the know-it-all muggle, as the train began its trek to its final destination.
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“If you ignore them, they’ll stop,” Hermione said over her shoulder to Ron. “They only do it to get a rise out of you.”
Hermione opened the compartment door, Ron following close behind, a deep scowl on his face. Ginny and Neville, who had been in the process of discussing their respective summers, stopped mid-conversation as the two entered.
“Well, they do a bloody good job of it,” Ron fumed, flopping into his seat next to Neville.
“Should I even ask?” Ginny inquired, glancing from her brother to Hermione
Hermione gave a slight roll of her eyes as she responded. “It’s nothing. Simply Potter and his lackeys trying to intimidate us yet again.” She frowned, continuing. “Someone needs to inform them that they are not, in fact, intimidating.”
Neville spoke up from his window seat. “They’re a little intimidating, Hermione.” He shifted in his seat nervously. “Especially Potter.”
“No, they’re just bullies,” she countered. “Insecure little boys trying to act big.”
“You should have let me punch Malfoy,” Ron grumbled.
“Do you want to stoop to their level?”
“If it means I can wipe that damn smirk off his face, yeah.”
Hermione gave him a look of disapproval before retrieving her copy of Hogwarts, a History from her bag. “Boys,” she muttered under her breath as she flipped open to a dog-eared page.
Every year, like clockwork, it seemed that she had to step in and keep Ron from doing something he would greatly regret. This year, apparently, would keep the Hogwarts Express tradition at seven for seven. She simply could not fully grasp why year after year they started their little rivalry, Ron especially. Draco did it because, to him, it was all a game. He’d make some snide remark, tempt Ron to do something stupid, and then laugh when Hermione was yet again forced to pull them apart. It was fun in his twisted little head.
But Draco didn’t irritate her as much as Harry, who for the past few years had appeared bored with his friend’s antics. But instead of saying anything and putting a stop to it like a normal civil human being, he simply let it continue, enjoying the show even if it was taking away from precious time he could have spent doing something else. Which was why, for the first time in seven years, she had addressed her anger directly at him.
Hermione didn’t care what Neville thought. Harry Potter would always be nothing but a spoiled bully in her eyes. Nothing about him made her fear him the way the younger students did. Not the way he seemed to talk calmly even as his infamous temper raged. Not the way he’d lock those penetrating green eyes on someone who had happened to cross him. Not even his life story.
She had heard all the tales, reading a good majority of them in the Daily Prophet. There was not a single person in the wizarding world who didn’t know the tales of Harry’s beginnings. It was, after all, the material legends were made from, as the Daily Prophet had once said.
Harry Potter had been orphaned as an infant, both his parents killed by Lord Voldemort. They had never been the target that night; it had been the baby who slept peacefully in the crib upstairs. But when Voldemort had dispatched of his parents and had attempted to kill the boy, something went wrong. The killing curse he’d tried to use on the boy had backfired and had hit him instead, leaving nothing but a lightning bolt scar on the boy’s head.
That night, a prophecy had brought Voldemort to the Potters’ doorstep. A prophecy that their innocent baby boy would grow up to overthrow him. Take his power. Take his followers. Take his place as the darkest wizard in the history of the wizarding world.
And from the moment Harry had been sorted into the Slytherin house, everyone knew that the prophecy had more merit than any of them could have ever believed. From that moment on, the students treated the boy like Lord Voldemort himself. The Slytherins showed him unwavering respect while the other houses were filled with students who feared his very existence.
Except her.
There was no way that Hermione was going to let a bullying teenage boy instill any thread of fear in her. Even after his vague threat today, which in all their years together at Hogwarts had been the first time he had ever done such a thing, she refused to let herself be shaken by him.
Hermione focused her thoughts on the chapter open in her lap, trying her best to forget about the previous incident in the corridors.
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Author: Tonya (tcooksey@gmail.com)
Pairing: H/Hr eventually
Rating: PG/PG-13 for time being
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the wonderful world of Harry Potter. No own, no sue.
Summary: In his seventh year, events at Hogwarts force Harry to come to terms with who he’s supposed to be.
A/N: This is a Slytherin!Harry fic which negates most of canon for this story. This also means this is not your typical Harry. This is a Harry with those mild Slytherin qualities from canon enhanced and catered to by his environment.
A/N#2: The title is latin for “After the darkness, I hope for the light.”
A/N#3: Feedback is always welcome! 'Tis my drug.
----------
The Hogwarts Express filled with the chatter of eager and excited students, each ready to return to the castle and begin a new term at Hogwarts. Among them, Harry Potter made his way through the gathered students to what had become his usual compartment with his two best friends, both of whom were trailing behind him at the moment.
As he and his friends made their way through the crowded train, Harry could feel the eyes of the younger students on him. The students parted willingly for them, and Harry smirked, rolling his eyes slightly at the display.
Seven years at the school. Seven years with these people, and he still had the ability to make them fear him like he, himself, were in fact the Dark Lord. He didn’t even have to speak, a simple glance in their general direction sending the younger students scurrying away like frightened rodents being sized up by the family cat. The novelty had soon wore off for Harry as his years at Hogwarts passed, but his friends were still able to get a good laugh or two out of the fear in the other students’ eyes.
“Move it, Weasel!”
Harry turned at Draco Malfoy’s voice. A few of the other students stopped as well, eager to see a fight if one just happened to erupt.
Draco had apparently crossed paths with Ronald Weasley, and at the present time, the two were sizing each other up.
“You don‘t bloody own the aisles, Malfoy,” the redhead shot back.
Harry rolled his eyes slightly as this seemed to happen every year without fail. The rivalry between the two of them was an inaugural event that, while entertaining to watch Ron attempt to stand up to Draco, had become progressively annoying with each passing year. Harry caught the eye of Blaise Zabini, who seemed more amused by this turn of events than Harry could muster at the moment. He folded his arms and simply watched, quite certain that in any moment Ron would back down like he always did. The boy had no backbone it seemed.
Before Ron could even think to crawl away with his tail between his legs, Hermione Granger stepped up to the boys, that typical stern look on her face. She grabbed a tight hold of Ron’s arm as she threw Draco a look of pure disgust.
“Why don’t you grow up, Malfoy?” she demanded. Her gaze traveled from Draco to Blaise and then lingered on Harry. “All of you.”
Harry, who had been content on simply observing this little spectacle stepped over to them, his arms still folded across his chest. “I was actually minding my own business, Granger,” he replied in the same even, cold tone that made the first and second years scurry in the opposite direction, “and I believe it’d be in your best interest to do the same.”
Hermione held his stare defiantly for a moment before turning to Ron, giving his arm a tug. “Come on, Ron. They’re just looking to start trouble.”
Draco sneered at the other boy, amused. “Better listen to your girlfriend, Weasel.”
Harry heard Ron give a very audible growl before Hermione gave him a final tug, silently pleading with him to back down.
“Ron.”
Ron looked at the girl and with a final growl of frustration, allowed himself to be pulled away. He shot Draco a look that could kill, which only elicited a laugh from Draco in response.
“Immature little prats,” Harry heard Hermione utter as she threw a departing hate-filled glare in his direction.
“Show’s over, munchkins,” Blaise said to all the students gathered around them. With that, the students quickly began to go about their business as if nothing had ever happened.
“Can we get on with our lives now, Malfoy?” Harry sighed as he turned and proceeded back towards their compartment.
“He bloody asks for it every year, Potter,” came the reply from over his shoulder.
Harry simply shook his head. Though he had to agree that Ron did have a tendency to bring the little encounters onto himself, he didn’t quite feel like giving Draco the thrill of knowing Harry thought he was right.
When they finally reached their compartment, Harry pulled back the door to reveal Pansy Parkinson sitting and waiting on their arrival, a copy of the Daily Prophet open in her lap. She frowned at them as the boys filed in and took their usual seats-- Harry next to her and Blaise and Draco across from them.
“What took you lot so long?” she asked.
Harry smirked over at Draco. “Three guesses.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Weasel.”
As Draco recounted to Pansy what had happened in her absence, Harry’s mind wandered back to the last hateful glance Hermione had given him.
Hell, he hadn’t even been personally involved in the confrontation, and yet, she had had the nerve to turn her defiant gaze on him the longest. She should have been pleased Harry hadn’t been the one to confront the redhead or things may not have gone quite as smoothly. He’d never admit it to anyone, but Draco had always had a better gauge on his anger. He had the ability to walk away from a showdown with a smirk and a knowing chuckle. Harry, however, could not--would not--fall back as easily as his friend.
The girl had been lucky.
Harry frowned deeply, pushing away all thoughts of the know-it-all muggle, as the train began its trek to its final destination.
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“If you ignore them, they’ll stop,” Hermione said over her shoulder to Ron. “They only do it to get a rise out of you.”
Hermione opened the compartment door, Ron following close behind, a deep scowl on his face. Ginny and Neville, who had been in the process of discussing their respective summers, stopped mid-conversation as the two entered.
“Well, they do a bloody good job of it,” Ron fumed, flopping into his seat next to Neville.
“Should I even ask?” Ginny inquired, glancing from her brother to Hermione
Hermione gave a slight roll of her eyes as she responded. “It’s nothing. Simply Potter and his lackeys trying to intimidate us yet again.” She frowned, continuing. “Someone needs to inform them that they are not, in fact, intimidating.”
Neville spoke up from his window seat. “They’re a little intimidating, Hermione.” He shifted in his seat nervously. “Especially Potter.”
“No, they’re just bullies,” she countered. “Insecure little boys trying to act big.”
“You should have let me punch Malfoy,” Ron grumbled.
“Do you want to stoop to their level?”
“If it means I can wipe that damn smirk off his face, yeah.”
Hermione gave him a look of disapproval before retrieving her copy of Hogwarts, a History from her bag. “Boys,” she muttered under her breath as she flipped open to a dog-eared page.
Every year, like clockwork, it seemed that she had to step in and keep Ron from doing something he would greatly regret. This year, apparently, would keep the Hogwarts Express tradition at seven for seven. She simply could not fully grasp why year after year they started their little rivalry, Ron especially. Draco did it because, to him, it was all a game. He’d make some snide remark, tempt Ron to do something stupid, and then laugh when Hermione was yet again forced to pull them apart. It was fun in his twisted little head.
But Draco didn’t irritate her as much as Harry, who for the past few years had appeared bored with his friend’s antics. But instead of saying anything and putting a stop to it like a normal civil human being, he simply let it continue, enjoying the show even if it was taking away from precious time he could have spent doing something else. Which was why, for the first time in seven years, she had addressed her anger directly at him.
Hermione didn’t care what Neville thought. Harry Potter would always be nothing but a spoiled bully in her eyes. Nothing about him made her fear him the way the younger students did. Not the way he seemed to talk calmly even as his infamous temper raged. Not the way he’d lock those penetrating green eyes on someone who had happened to cross him. Not even his life story.
She had heard all the tales, reading a good majority of them in the Daily Prophet. There was not a single person in the wizarding world who didn’t know the tales of Harry’s beginnings. It was, after all, the material legends were made from, as the Daily Prophet had once said.
Harry Potter had been orphaned as an infant, both his parents killed by Lord Voldemort. They had never been the target that night; it had been the baby who slept peacefully in the crib upstairs. But when Voldemort had dispatched of his parents and had attempted to kill the boy, something went wrong. The killing curse he’d tried to use on the boy had backfired and had hit him instead, leaving nothing but a lightning bolt scar on the boy’s head.
That night, a prophecy had brought Voldemort to the Potters’ doorstep. A prophecy that their innocent baby boy would grow up to overthrow him. Take his power. Take his followers. Take his place as the darkest wizard in the history of the wizarding world.
And from the moment Harry had been sorted into the Slytherin house, everyone knew that the prophecy had more merit than any of them could have ever believed. From that moment on, the students treated the boy like Lord Voldemort himself. The Slytherins showed him unwavering respect while the other houses were filled with students who feared his very existence.
Except her.
There was no way that Hermione was going to let a bullying teenage boy instill any thread of fear in her. Even after his vague threat today, which in all their years together at Hogwarts had been the first time he had ever done such a thing, she refused to let herself be shaken by him.
Hermione focused her thoughts on the chapter open in her lap, trying her best to forget about the previous incident in the corridors.
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