Chapter 5
V
She woke up earlier than him on Saturday morning.
Hermione Granger was able to check in with Harry long before he woke up. She spent the early morning in the kitchen with her mother. They discussed presents, and they discussed Harry. Jane had many questions, but Hermione wasn't really comfortable answering all of them.
There were things that Hermione couldn't tell her mother, mainly because she knew that her parents would take drastic action with regards to her safety. If they knew just what she'd been through, then they would have pulled her out of Hogwarts a long time ago. And Hermione wouldn't stand for that. Not now. Not when Harry needed her.
It wasn't that Hermione enjoyed lying to her parents - she likened omitting things to lying at this point - but it was something she deemed necessary. She would come clean when it was all over and hope that they understood why she'd made the decisions she had.
Harry.
It was always going to be about Harry.
The wizard in question arrived in the kitchen, fully dressed, a few minutes later, and Hermione couldn't help smiling at the sight of him. He looked well-rested, relaxed, and he was grinning happily. Hermione stepped up to hug him good morning, and whispered in his ear.
"How'd you sleep?" she asked, referring to his nightmares.
"Just one," he whispered back, releasing her. "I'm fine."
And then it was Jane's turn to hug him, and Harry was less surprised this time. She even ruffled his hair and asked the question of whether it always looked this messy, which made Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.
"I've tried," he confessed. "I've given up at this point."
"I quite like it," Hermione said, and then balked at her own confession. Did she really say that out loud?
"Well, you would," Jane said, laughing at her daughter's horrified expression.
The entire exchange merely confused Harry, and he was relieved to see Michael enter the kitchen, a happy smile on his face and a slight bounce in his step. He ruffled Harry's mess of hair before he kissed the top of Hermione's head. Harry watched as he strolled through the kitchen towards his wife, and greeted her lovingly.
Harry looked away to offer them a private moment, and found Hermione looking at him.
"It's always like this," she mouthed to him, rolling her eyes.
He moved towards her. "You don't think you'll be like that when you're married?"
The question seemed to stun her, and she wasn't sure how to respond. Not when it was Harry Potter asking her that question. Thankfully, Hermione was saved from a response by her father.
"So, are we ready for war?" he asked, making fists of both his hands and practically flexing.
They ate breakfast quickly, and then they were on their way. Jane made sure that both teenagers were bundled up nice and warm before she sent them out to the car. Harry felt a little overwhelmed by how much she seemed to care about him already, as well how small of an action was needed to show it. All she did was tighten the scarf around his neck and he was a total goner.
For the most part, they drove in silence. Harry just watched as the houses gave way to larger buildings, and then they were pulling into a shopping mall. The parking lot was practically filled to capacity and Michael drove around for a full minute before Hermione spotted a car pulling out.
As discussed, the four of them split up for the first two hours, Harry and Hermione together, and then Michael and Jane as the other pair. They would do their shopping, and then meet up for something warm to drink before splitting up in a different combination of pairs. That part was a little daunting for Harry, but he didn't mention that to anyone.
Harry and Hermione set off one way, and her parents set off in another. Harry had spent quite some time trying to figure out what to get for Hermione's parents, but he needed Hermione's help. She would know what they liked better than anyone.
"I need to go to a clothing shop," Hermione informed him. "I buy my dad a tie every year," she explained. "It's a weird Christmas tradition we have. Because he deals with more of the junior patients at the dental practice, he has all these truly goofy ties, and I love picking them out for him."
Harry loved hearing about her family's traditions. She'd told him about their tradition of opening one present each on Christmas Eve, and that they had waffles on Christmas morning before they went to church. Hermione told him that he didn't have to go with to morning mass if he didn't want to, but he said he wanted to experience it all.
Harry worried that he didn't have clothes suitable for church, so he made a mental note to pick something up while they were in that clothing store. He had to admit that it was actually quite fun picking out ties. They had all sorts of funny patterns, and cartoon characters. Harry seemed to love them so much that Hermione decided to come back later and pick one up for him.
Harry bought a pair of black trousers and a pale green shirt for himself, and he bought a soft green, cashmere scarf for Jane. Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek to force herself not to comment on the price. Harry noticed, and he couldn't help but smile. If she only knew how much he'd already spent on her.
"Your dad smokes, right?" Harry asked her as they walked through the crowded mall.
"He smokes pipes," she clarified. "He thinks it makes him look cool, and it's a very gentlemanly thing to do, apparently."
"So you're against my getting him something to fuel that lovely habit of his?" he asked cautiously.
Hermione spent a moment thinking about it. "He'll probably love whatever you get him, so no, I'm not against it." It looked like it pained her to say so, and Harry couldn't resist nudging her slightly as they walked, which made Hermione, somewhat bravely, link her arm with his.
Harry couldn't ignore the warm feeling that settled over his entire body. He never wanted this moment to end.
After Harry bought Michael a new pipe and some tobacco, Hermione suggested they stop by a book shop. He groaned good-naturedly, and she just rolled her eyes. He noted that she tended to do that a lot more when she was at home. She just appeared a lot more at ease now, and he had to admit that he liked it on her. She seemed lighter, less burdened, and he wondered what it was about Hogwarts that always put her on edge.
His mind even took him so far as to think that he was the problem.
But then she would look at him, a happy smile on her face, and all his worries would fall away. He saw so much in her eyes that it overwhelmed him. How could eyes say so much?
With forty-five minutes to go before their scheduled meeting-up time, Harry practically had to drag Hermione out of the book shop. She'd collected a few books, which she asked one of the clerks to set aside for her, because she would be coming back.
Harry led them to a large toy store, and Hermione could only watch in mild fascination as the boy went a little crazy. He dropped things into the trolley like it was going out of fashion. He chose all sorts of sports' toys, different sized dolls, various puzzles, colouring books, crayons, board games, reading books and a lot of wrapping paper. Just being able to watch him literally being a kid in a toy store - shopping for toys that weren't even going to be his - made her heart melt. If she wasn't sure of the depths of her feelings towards him before; Hermione was quite certain of them now.
She loved him.
She was dangerously in love with Harry Potter.
Harry insisted on paying for it all, but Hermione forced in her own contribution, as well as extra Pounds that her parents had given her for this precise moment. Harry eventually relented, quickly realising that this was better as a group thing. They'd be too much attention on him if it wasn't.
The teenagers ended up arriving a little late to meet Hermione's parents, and both Michael and Jane started at the number of toys they'd bought, though they didn't comment. The four of them sat and enjoyed some coffee - for the parents - and hot chocolate for the teenagers. Michael tried to sneak looks into Hermione's bags, but she whined at him to stop, making them all laugh.
"So we'll go me and Hermione, and then Mick and Harry next," Jane said as she finished her own coffee. "How does that sound?"
Harry did his best not to panic. It would be fine. He would be okay.
Michael addressed them next. "Why don't you all pop your bags in the trolley? Harry and I will rush out to the car to put them in the boot for now."
Hermione looked sceptical. "Promise you won't peek?"
"Hermione," he said, exaggerating a gasp. "How could you even think I would do such a thing?"
Hermione turned to Harry. "You'll tell me if he looks, won't you?"
Harry's eyes widened. There was no way he was about to get between father and daughter. Hermione was his best friend, but he also wanted Michael to like him.
Hermione laughed, absently touching his forearm. "Don't worry, Harry," she said gently, before turning to look at her father. "I willknow, Michael Granger," she said sternly.
"So noted, princess," Michael said, tilting his head to the side. "Shall we?"
It had started to snow since they'd gone into the mall and, for a moment, Harry lost his bearings. With the ground almost covered, Michael was unable to locate the car based on the painted numbers on the concrete.
"Any ideas?" Michael asked Harry, shivering slightly.
"On the left side," Harry said, remembering. "We parked next to that beat-up white Buggie."
Michael immediately started towards the left and, ten minutes later, they finally found the car, which was almost blanketed in snow. "Do you want to start putting things in the boot?" Michael asked the wizard; "while I try to make sure that we're not completely buried by the time we're done with the shopping."
Harry just nodded, as he moved all their bags from the trolley into the boot of the car. He could just see Michael using the sleeve of his coat to wipe snow off the top of the car. It wasn't yet sticking, which was a relief. Harry did the top of the boot cover when he was finished, and then the two headed back into the warmth of the building.
They were both shivering.
"If I ever suggest anything as stupid as that; just shoot me," Michael said, dusting snow off himself. Once he was satisfied with himself, he checked that Harry was sufficiently snow-free. "Let's not tell Jane or Hermione about this," he suggested, and Harry had to agree.
They started to walk, needing to keep moving to warm themselves up.
Michael broke the silence. "So, I've pretty much got Jane sorted. I think I might buy her a perfume, and Hermione, well, I usually get her a book voucher, and a new poster for her wall. Maybe you can help me pick out which poster."
Harry nodded, content to follow.
"And I assume you'd like to get something for Hermione."
Harry bit his bottom lip. "Well, sir, I've actually already got Hermione's gift," he explained. "I bought it before we left Hogwarts."
Michael glanced at him. "Is it anything good?" he asked conspiratorially.
Harry blinked. "It's, uh, it's a watch, sir."
Michael regarded him carefully, realising that there were some things he just couldn't joke about with this young man. Not yet, at least. "I hope it's analogue," he said kindly. "All the best ones are."
"A digital one wouldn't work at school," Harry informed the man, easing up slightly. "But you're right; analogue is the best."
Michael noticed that it took Harry quite some time to get comfortable with just him, and he wondered if it was because he was still somewhat a stranger, or if it was because he was an older man. There were times that Michael noticed a flash of fear in the boy's eyes, as if he were afraid that Michael would hurt him in some way if he said or did anything wrong.
Based on what he'd learned from his wife and Hermione about Harry's life until now; Michael wasn't sure his thoughts were that far from the truth.
Harry had to steer them to a different book shop, because it wouldn't do to shop for Hermione in the book shop to which she claimed she would be returning. They spent quite some time going through the many posters on offer, both of them discussing the football teams and all the movies.
Harry, admittedly, didn't watch enough television or movies to have many opinions, but what he'd caught on his relatives' screen from time to time allowed him to hold his own in the conversation.
"Hermione loves Back To the Future," Michael said. "I think it's the science, but who knows these days with teenage girls? They develop crushes all the time."
Harry did not respond to that bit of information. Just lumping the words 'Hermione' and 'crushes' made his heart race. Did she...? Could she have a crush on someone, and he didn't even know? It was definitely possible. She'd managed to keep her time-turner hidden for a full year; Harry was sure she could hide a crush.
But he had to know.
Harry knew he couldn't just ask her outright. Could he?
Michael purchased a substantial book voucher for Hermione. "It's just easier this way," he elaborated. "Jane and I can just let her loose in the shop without having to worry about what she may or may not like, or what she might already have read."
"She has quite a collection," Harry commented.
"That isn't even half of it," he said. "That's just since she started at Hogwarts. The rest, from when she was younger, is in the attic. She cried for hours when we told her we'd boxed them up, but she won't part with them. She says she'll give them to her kids. She just gets so attached sometimes; each book carrying with it a certain memory that she'll always cherish."
Harry listened intently. He loved learning more and more about Hermione, especially the Hermione before he met her. He just wished that he could have known her then. Maybe if they'd been friends before; their lives would be different.
"Ah, there they are," Michael said, coming to a stop. "Three o'clock."
Harry looked to his right to see Jane and Hermione window-shopping a little way's away. They had significant bags with them, but they didn't look like they were looking for anything specific.
"You reckon we should follow them?" Michael asked, sounding mischievous.
For a moment, Harry was floored. The glint in Michael's eye suddenly reminded him of the Weasley twins, and he was forced to shake his head to rid his mind of the thought.
"You're right," Michael agreed, reading his head-shake as something else. "Hermione will definitely find out, and I'm getting too old to figure out how to avoid her retaliation."
Harry blinked. "She is quite sneaky, isn't she?"
"I don't know where she gets it," he said, turning them away from the girls. "She can be terrifying sometimes. Especially when it comes to things that are important to her. The problem is, though, that sometimes she puts importance in things that don't deserve it, you know? Or things that are out of her control. She's been heartbroken a few times because of it."
Harry tried to think back on what Michael could possibly be talking about. She'd placed importance in the Secret Santa being run the right way, but he suspected that she did that for his benefit. And then there was the DA. That was important to all of them, but he knew she made its secrecy doubly important because she knew that he would suffer the brunt of the punishment if they were ever found out.
And, all at once, Harry realised that Michael was referring to him. Hermione placed an incredible amount of importance in him; something she couldn't possibly control, and Michael was worried that Harry would end up breaking her heart because of it.
Michael noticed the moment that the realisation hit Harry, and he had to admit that he was surprised at how quickly the young man had caught on. Really, Michael would have been fine if Harry didn't realise what he'd been talking about, but the fact that Harry hadclearly meant that the young man was already worried about the possibility of one day hurting Hermione in some way.
Harry looked at Michael. "She's my best friend, sir," he said, his voice clear but low in volume. "She is very important to me; the most important, and I wouldn't ever hurt her willingly. But that isn't to say that I might, unwillingly, or accidentally hurt her. I'm only human, and nobody knows that more than Hermione."
Michael nodded. "Just so you know."
Harry nodded back. "I know," he said strongly. "Trust me, I know."
When they met up with the girls much later, Michael and Harry were back to easy banter. Something had been said, discussed, accepted and fully understood without the true words having to be said aloud.
"Everything go okay?" Hermione asked him quietly, as the four of them searched for somewhere to have some lunch.
"Great," he said truthfully. "Now, tell me, what did you get for me?"
Hermione shook her head. "Na ah," she said, wagging a finger. "Don't even start with me, Potter."
Harry bat his eyelashes and exaggerated a pout. "Oh, but please, pretty girl; I'm asking so nicely."
"Oh no you don't," she said, huffing. "Don't think you can use those perfect eyes and that cute face to get to me."
Harry stiffened, and then he laughed. "I'm sorry... Did you just say perfect eyes, and cute face?"
Hermione's eyes widened, her own face turning beet red. She was about to play it off as nothing, but decided against it. He looked too smug for that, and she had to bring him down a peg or two. "Well, yes, Harry, I did. Got a problem?"
It was his turn to sputter and blush. "Oh."
She winked at him. "Now, what was it you were asking me again?"
Harry huffed. "You're mean, did you know that?"
She grinned at him. "Just wait until you see what I bought for you."
Harry didn't respond. Really, he couldn't. She was so... playful, and it was making his head spin. He had to remind himself that this was Hermione. Merlin, this was Hermione, and he had the sudden urge to... to what?
"This place looks good," Jane said, cutting into Harry's thoughts before they made him say or do something stupid. "Not too full either."
As he sat beside Hermione at the table, Harry couldn't help but feel charged. Something happened; something of which he had to take note. It quickly became very clear to him that they were not at Hogwarts. These kinds of things didn't happen in a Wizarding boarding school in freezing Scotland.
They watched all the other shoppers pass them by. It amazed Harry that there were so many people in this world, with their own crazy lives. Harry was just one person in more than seven billion people on Earth. It truly was a sobering thought.
As soon as they got home, which proved to take a considerable amount of time, given that it was still snowing and the roads were still being ploughed, they were all quick to claim their own bags of shopping before any of the others could start peeking at the contents.
Harry rushed up to his room to deposit his personal gifts before he and Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon wrapping gifts for the children's home. Jane eventually had to coax them into helping her bake biscuits for the home. She set them to decorating the Christmas Tree shaped biscuits and the Gingerbread Men. By the end of it, the three of them were covered in different coloured icing, flour and Harry swore he had crumbs in places he didn't even know existed.
"If we thought your hair was a mess before," Jane commented, laughing as Harry tossed some flour at Hermione, who gasped.
"Mr Potter," she hissed. "Do you know how difficult it's going to be to get this out of my hair?"
"I think it suits you," he said, and then had to avoid a dollop of icing being thrown his way. "Hey hey," he said smugly. "Seeker, here, thank you very much."
"Oh, I'm very determined."
Jane just laughed. "As long as some of it ends up on the biscuits, I'm not fazed," she said, and then immediately regretted speaking at all when Harry and Hermione both turned to look at her with matching mischievous grins. "Oh no you don't," she said, stepping back and putting her arms out, as if she could somehow ward off an attack.
Michael's arrival was all that saved her. He had his hand clamped over the end of the receiver of the house phone, and his eyes widened at the sight of them. "You know," he said; "I don't even want to know." Then he looked at Jane. "Martin has tickets to Arsenal/QPR on Tuesday," he said. "Can I go? Possibly take the wizard with me for some good luck?"
Jane looked at Harry. "That okay with you?"
Harry looked confused. "Umm?"
Hermione turned to him. "Dad's friend, Martin, has tickets to a football match. Arsenal versus Queens Park Rangers on Boxing Day. Would you like to go with?"
Harry nodded in understanding, and then grinned widely. "Oh yes, definitely!"
"Great!" Michael said, and then disappeared from the kitchen before it was his turn to be iced.
Jane looked at the teenagers. "I believe you two have about two dozen more biscuits to do," she said, standing up straight. "And don't you dare come at me with those hands of yours."
"Why is it that you keep giving us ideas, Mum?" Hermione asked, that playful tone back in her voice.
All Harry could do was stare at her and thank his lucky stars that he got to see this side of her. He couldn't help thinking that she was positively lovely. Anybody who said or thought otherwise was an idiot. A complete and utter fool.
Once the biscuits were done and safely packed away, the three of them went about cleaning up the kitchen while they sent Michael out to get dinner. Nobody felt like cooking tonight.
"Okay, you two, upstairs and get cleaned up," Jane instructed, shooing the teenagers. "I don't want to see any icing when you get back."
As they were leaving the kitchen; Harry put an arm around Hermione's shoulders and rubbed his cheek against hers, mixing blue and pink icing.
"Harry!" she shrieked, struggling to get away from him.
He just laughed as he watched her rush up the stairs, eager to get away from him. He took his time heading up the stairs and disappeared into the bathroom. He got undressed in the shower so that the icing would fall onto the shower tray. He shook off his clothing before he set the items aside. The water washed away all the icing and Harry had to wash his hair twice to get out all the flour.
Harry got dressed into his pyjamas and then he went looking for Hermione. He wasn't sure what it was but he just felt like annoying her. Or flustering her. Whichever came first. Harry knocked on Hermione's bedroom door and waited for her to tell him it was all right to go in.
He found her sitting on the edge of her bed, brushing her damp hair and grimacing as she encountered painful tangles.
"Hey you," she said, smiling at him.
Harry loved her bedroom. He'd told her many times but, for the first time, he was sure that he loved it because it had Hermione in it. She seemed so peaceful, so at ease in here that he didn't ever want her to leave this place.
"Let's take a look at you," she said, studying him critically. "Any icing?"
"There was so much," he said, moving to lie down on his back on the carpet by her feet. "I swear it was in places I didn't even know it could get to, Hermione," he said, staring up at her. "Honestly, can you explain to me how I could have possibly got icing under my armpits?"
Hermione giggled.
"My armpits, Hermione! How does that even happen?"
"That sneaky icing," she teased. "What are we ever going to do?"
He faked a glare. "You aren't taking me seriously."
"What gave me away?"
Harry flicked a finger against her shin. "You really are your father's daughter, aren't you?"
Hermione laughed. "I really am," she agreed. "My mum hates it. Always calls me a traitor whenever I take his side."
Harry looked at her. "You sounded awfully confident when you were talking about the football match," he pointed out. "Are you a fan?"
"I don't really watch," she admitted; "At all. It's why my dad didn't even bother asking if I wanted to go, but I suppose I support Arsenal because of him. His entire family supports them because they're from that part of London. I was mainly interested in all the statistics of the entire league, and I've always been rather fascinated by the physics behind kicking a ball and getting it to bend through the air."
"Okay, now you're back to being your mother's daughter."
She laughed out loud at that, gently tapping his chest with a socked foot. "Do you really think I'm more like her that him?"
Harry spent a moment thinking about it. "I do, yeah. You remind me of your mother, rather than your father."
Hermione smiled at him. "She's always been a bit of an overachiever," she said, her voice sounding distant, but holding a lot of pride. "I don't even know half of the things she does, you know? I know that she took time off when she had me, but she went back to work when I was five, which was when I started school. She's incredibly driven, always busy and sometimes difficult to talk to because she burns herself out more often than not."
Harry couldn't really picture the Jane Granger that Hermione was describing. But, then again, it was Christmas.
"She's part of all sorts of boards, making important decisions. She runs the dental practice, maintaining everything about it, including the other dentists and their various employees. She's amazing, Harry. If I managed to accomplish even half of what she has; I'd be happy."
Harry looked at her seriously. "Is that why you try so hard?" he asked quietly. "Why you work yourself sick, and always strive for more? Because you feel you have to, because of your mother's success?"
Hermione spent a moment thinking about it. "I think I just want to make her proud," she finally said. "I want to make them both proud, and I don't know if I'm doing that because they don't truly understand the Wizarding World."
"I'll tell them," he said. "I'll make sure that they know to be proud of you every single day."
"Thank you, Harry," she said, her heart swelling. He really was just such a great guy, and Hermione knew that she was going to have to deal with whatever she was feeling some time soon, but nowdefinitely wasn't it.
They locked eyes, and Hermione was tempted to reveal it all right then and there. There was just something about the striking green that threw her off and, as soon as she opened her mouth -
"Harry! Hermione! Dinner's here!" Jane yelled from downstairs, and Hermione forced herself not to sigh.
Harry got to his feet slowly, groaning like an old man just to make her laugh. He put out his hand for her to take, helping her stand up. He absently reached for a strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger. "I never quite realised how soft it was," he said, sounding rather fascinated.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's just hair, Harry."
"That may be so," he agreed; "but it's your hair."
Hermione just stared at him for a moment, before she shook her head and started to lead the way out of the room. "You are so weird."
He had terrible nightmares.
Harry Potter woke up with a start when he felt a hand on his shoulder. His arms flailed in his panic, but then warm, soothing hands were on his the sides of his face and he instantly calmed down.
"You're okay, Harry," Hermione said softly, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin. "You're okay."
Harry stared up at her, blinking wildly. "You're here?" he croaked. "You're not hurt?"
Hermione bent so she could hug him. "I'm okay," she said. "You're okay."
Harry clutched at her. Tightly. Like he was holding on for dear life. He didn't release her when she tried to pull away. "Stay," he whispered, and Hermione had to force herself not to react. "Please."
"Okay," she said, still trying to sit up. "I'll be right here," she said, indicating to the second bed in the room. "I think my parents would have heart attacks if they ever found us like this."
Harry managed a smile at that, and he shifted until he was sitting up against the headboard.
Hermione squeezed his hands comfortingly, and then switched to the other bed. She lay down on her side so she could look at him. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
Harry shook his head. Then he sighed. "I was in Little Hangleton," he said quietly, shuddering. "But, instead of being there with Cedric; I was there with you, and..." he trailed off. "I - Hermione..."
Hermione reached across the space between the two beds with her hand. "Here," she said. "Feel it. I'm right here."
Harry settled in on his side as well, and hooked his fingers with Hermione's, letting her warmth wash over him. She was right here. She was right here.
That was how Jane found them in the morning. They were both asleep, but their fingers still linked in the space between the two beds. As heartwarming as the sight was, she knew that the reason Hermione came in here was Harry's nightmares. She'd heard sounds in the middle of the night, but they'd stopped quickly enough. Perhaps Hermione was just more in tune with the sounds of Harry's anguish.
Jane didn't like the fact that Harry suffered the kind of nightmares that made him cry out the way he did, but she was heartened by the fact that he had Hermione to help him through them.
She padded across the room towards her daughter, and gently shook her awake.
Hermione started, and then gasped, the memories of the night before flooding her mind. "Mum," she said aloud.
Jane placed a finger over her own mouth to keep Hermione quiet. "Come on," she whispered, tugging her daughter up. "I think you and I have to have another little talk."
Hermione just nodded as she released Harry's hand and allowed her mother to pull her up into a standing position. She stretched her arms up in the air, feeling her joints click. She cast a worried look down at Harry before she followed her mother out of the room.
Jane led the way to Hermione's bedroom and watched as her daughter climbed into her own bed and shifted until she was comfortable. Jane sat down on the edge of the bed and steeled herself for the conversation they were about to have.
"How often does he have nightmares?" Jane asked, cutting straight to it.
Hermione took a deep breath. "It depends," she replied. "Some days, he's more susceptible to them, but he gets them nearly every night," she explained. "They're different, most of the time, but last night he dreamt about me."
Jane blinked. "Oh."
Hermione sighed. "Do you remember that Tournament I told you that Harry was involved in?"
Jane nodded.
"Well, it was the first time that they were running the Tournament in a really long time because, well, the last time, a student died," she said carefully. "Because of that, they raised the age limit on the entrants to seventeen."
Jane frowned. "But isn't Harry fifteen?"
"It was part of some plot to get him entered into the Tournament," she responded flatly. "Dumbledore let it happen, and Harry almost died too many times than I'm comfortable saying out loud." Hermione had to sit up for this part, tears springing to her eyes. "The last Task, he was taken somewhere and forced to participate in a Ritual that brought back the monster that killed his parents." Her voice caught. "And - and Harry watched a fellow student die right in front of him."
Jane gasped.
"Voldemort - I told you about Voldemort - he sometimes makes Harry see things, which fuels his dreams. The worst ones are to do with Cedric. He sometimes begs for his life; cries for his life."
Jane took a breath. "Cedric?"
Hermione automatically pictured the handsome Hufflepuff's smiling face, and she flinched. "Harry blames himself for Cedric's death, because he believes that the only reason Cedric was even there in the first place was because of him. He's been so angry, Mum, and we're constantly dealing with so much and I'm just so tired." She sounded exasperated by the end of it, and Jane wasn't sure what to do. "I don't know what to do to make it better."
Jane reached for Hermione's closest hand. "I think that you're doing it, sweetheart," she said. "He looks like he's doing better."
Hermione shook her head. "He pretends sometimes," she confessed her observations. "He doesn't really have anyone, and it's becoming increasingly clearer this year."
Jane squeezed her hand. "Well, he has us, okay? He'll always be welcome here, Hermione. You make sure he knows that, all right?"
Hermione nodded.
"Now, you get some sleep," she said, leaning forward and kissing her daughter's forehead. "I'll see to Harry when he wakes up."
Chapter 6
AN: Happy New Year!
VI
She was on alert all morning.
Jane Granger's eyes kept darting Harry's way as the four of them prepared for the day. He'd looked exhausted when he joined her in the kitchen to help her with her prize-winning pies, but he was still as animated as ever.
It was a fake smile, she could now tell, and she wasn't sure how to talk to him about it without his clamming up the way Hermione warned her that he would. There was something he was deadly afraid of when it came to them; like he was terrified that they wouldn't want him here anymore if they knew the full extent of his troubles, so he was determined to hide all of it from them.
As soon as Hermione arrived in the kitchen, Jane set her to chopping alongside Harry. Though, before Hermione lifted the knife; she hugged the wizard tightly, whispering something in his ear that made him smile. Jane threw her daughter a curious look, but Hermione just shrugged and got to work.
"I'm afraid that I won't be going with you to the children's home," Jane informed them as she worked her pastry. "I've got to finish these, and then we've got to get to the park. Mickey will take you; is that all right? And then I'll just meet you later?"
Hermione just nodded.
Harry looked at Jane, a small smile on his face. "How many pies are you making?" he asked, giving her his full attention.
Jane, admittedly, felt the full extent of the intensity of his eyes and she had to lean against the counter. "I'm making six. Two of each type: apple, chocolate pecan and custard."
Harry's face lit up. "I've never even heard of a custard pie before," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"It's the one that won last year," Hermione told him. "She makes the custard herself, and it's literally to die for. She has some secret ingredient that she adds to it, though she's never told me what it is."
Jane winked at Harry. "I might tell you, kiddo, if you play your cards right."
Harry grinned.
Hermione exaggerated a gasp. "Oh, I see how it is," she said, rolling her eyes.
Harry looked at her. "You know you'll always be my favourite, Hermione," he said quietly. His voice usually dropped in volume when he said serious things; the kinds of things that carried meaning beyond his fifteen years.
Hermione glanced at her mother, contemplating whether or not to play off Harry's confession as something playful. In the end, she decided against it and gave him her own full attention. After the night he'd had, she was going to remain at his side as much as possible.
Harry smiled at her, and then looked at Jane again. "I've never had chocolate pecan pie before either," he said, choosing not to mention that he wasn't the biggest fan of chocolate. "But I once made an apple pie. It was, well, it didn't come out as well as it should have." He fell silent, and Hermione immediately took hold of his closest hand. She could only imagine what happened to him when the pie hadn't turned out right. Oh, her little Harry.
She wanted to do something more, but she wasn't sure what, and she also didn't know how well he would react to it.
Jane eventually sent them to get ready to leave the house, and they headed upstairs, murmuring to each other about something she didn't catch. She was worried. Beyond worried, actually. Something was happening, today of all days, and she was desperate to stop it before it got completely out of control.
"Are the monsters ready to go?" Michael asked, coming into the kitchen and fixing the collar of his coat. "It'd probably be better if we're in and out before lunch time." He came to a stop when he noticed the pensive look on his wife's face. "Okay... umm, what did I miss?"
She sighed. "I think that we've missed too much, Mick," she said softly, sadly.
"What are you talking about?"
"Hermione told me some things this morning," she said solemnly; "after I found her asleep in Harry's room."
Michael's eyes widened. "What?"
"Separate beds, honey," she said, patting his chest condescendingly. "It's just, well, Harry has been through a lot."
Michael blinked. "We know that."
"No," she said, looking at him. "I don't think we do."
Michael could hear the severity in his wife's tone and it put him on edge. "Okay, so, umm, what are we going to do?"
"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I've been kind of hovering, and I think he's picked up on it. Hermione's probably up there telling him that she told me that he witnessed another student get killed."
"What!"
Jane shushed her husband. "You better not say anything about it," she warned, and he pressed his lips together. "I think I'm going to call Betsy once you three leave. She'll be able to help us help him."
Michael nodded, though his head was spinning. "Shall I go and get them?" He waited for Jane's own nod before he headed up the stairs to find both teenagers in Harry's room. Michael did not immediately announce his presence. Instead, he paused to look through the slightly ajar door to see Harry sitting on the floor with his knees clutched against his chest, and Hermione kneeling at his side, one hand on the back of Harry's neck and the other on his knee.
"I should have done more," Harry said, his voice little more than a whimper. "If I'd been more selfish..."
"Ssh," Hermione cooed. "I know that you know that you did everything you could," she said gently. "He wouldn't want you to keep torturing yourself over this."
"But I'm the reason he's dead!" Harry suddenly snapped, making both Hermione and Michael flinch.
Hermione didn't buckle under his anger. She was almost used to it at this point. "Voldemort is the reason he's dead," she said strongly. "Pettigrew. They're the ones responsible. Not you. I know that, and I won't let you or anyone else think otherwise, okay?"
Harry blinked at her, his lids tired and heavy. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just, I want it all to stop. Why won't it just stop?"
Michael watched as Hermione held Harry's head against her chest, hugging him until the boy's rapid breathing steadied. He felt like he was witnessing a truly intimate moment between the two of them and it felt wrong standing there. So, as quietly as he could, he backed away and disappeared back down the stairs.
Jane was surprised when she spotted him entering the kitchen alone. "Where are the kids?"
Michael blinked. "Umm, well, they're still upstairs."
"Okay...?"
"I think I'll just shout for them," he said. "And, you know, make sure that you do call Betsy, all right?"
"What happened?"
"Just make sure you call, Jane."
It took another fifteen minutes to get all the biscuits, presents and both kids into the car, and then they were on their way. Harry, admittedly was feeling a little nervous. He wasn't sure how well their sudden presence would be received but, by the time they got there, Harry knew he needn't have worried.
Michael went in first to make sure that it was all right for them to go in and see the children, and the staff were a little too happy to invite them inside. Hermione felt Harry's nerves, and it was transferring to her, as they entered the home.
"Stop twitching," she murmured, and he threw her a wistful smile.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Even though it would've been nice to be able to hand every child their own gift; there were just too many children, and the toys were meant to be shared anyway. The head of the home, Bianca Wood, did suggest allowing the younger ones to open the presents, just for the excitement of receiving an actual gift.
Harry slipped on a Santa hat and allowed himself to feel the cheer that Christmas was supposed to bring. Like his wife, Michael watched Harry carefully. There was something there to be seen; something that hadn't been there the day before. It was in his eyes. It looked like he'd aged a great deal in just one night.
Bianca had the children gather in the playroom, and Harry and Hermione quickly got to handing the presents out. There was Christmas music playing in the background, and Michael was falling in love with the childish laughter and happy chatter.
The children were quick with unwrapping the presents, and then they were all playing games and laughing endlessly. It was amazing for Michael to watch Harry and Hermione interact with the younger kids. It wasn't missed by either him or his wife that both teenagers were definitely, somewhat worryingly, mature for their ages. It seemed to him that they'd both witnessed and experienced too much, but he was able to witness them act like children for the first time in a while.
Harry had a happy grin plastered across his face, and Hermione was struggling not to gawk at him. Those eyes on that face, smiling that smile. Was he trying to kill her or something? Maybe that was why they called it a crush. Hermione was convinced she would eventually die from it.
Hermione's attention was drawn by a small tap on her knee, and she looked away from Harry to spot a little boy and girl looking at her with wide eyes. They reminded her of Dobby in a way, even bouncing up and down from their obvious excitement. They ended up asking her some of the most uncomfortable questions, but she was able to deflect where possible and answer vaguely.
No, the boy with her was not her boyfriend. Yes, she was aware that her hair was rather bushy. And no, she didn't think that kissing was disgusting. Hermione was just glad that Harry was sitting far enough for him not to hear the probing questions. Hermione was red enough without adding Harry James Potter into the equation.
Eventually the little boy and girl shuffled along, providing Hermione with a moment of respite. Because, the next second; there was another small group approaching her, each of them just as eager as the next one.
It didn't take long for the tantrum to start. Hermione wasn't sure how it happened, or even why, but one of the little kids she was talking to, whose name was Jack, started to scream and yell and cry, and Hermione was at a loss as to what to do. She positively gasped when she got a kick to the shin, and then she watched Jack run from her.
Michael watched it all, concerned for his daughter. He waited for her to look at him and ask the question. He was even prepared for the explanation he might give, but it was all for naught in the end. Hermione did not look at Michael.
She looked at Harry.
Michael's heart skipped a beat. His daughter didn't look at her father; she rather looked at her best friend, and Michael was forced to take a deep breath as he watched the scene play out with keen interest. The teenagers exchanged a few words, Hermione's distraught expression turning to concern before she looked slightly relieved. Harry just looked determined, and then the two of them set off to find Jack.
Michael wasn't sure what he was feeling, but he definitely didn't like it. Why hadn't she turned to him? She always turned to him. But...?
He was still pondering this turn of events when the teenagers returned, accompanied by Jack. The little blond boy was walking between them, holding each of their hands, and it truly was a picture to behold. Shortly after, they had biscuits and hot chocolate, while Harry told the gathered children wild stories about dragons and centaurs and toad-like women.
Every child was captivated. Even the older ones who initially didn't want to participate in the festivities were hooked onto every word he said. Harry just had this way of speaking; of holding the attention of a group of people, and Michael was sure that the teenager didn't even realise that he was doing it. Even Hermione looked particularly enthralled.
Really, the witch was digging her nails into her palms, nervous over whether or not Harry's tales of great warriors battling dragons and merpeople counted as breaking the Statute of Secrecy. She was half-expecting a Ministry Owl to come flying in, followed by a group of Obliviators, but nothing turned up.
By the time that Michael mentioned that it was time for them to go; Harry and Hermione weren't the only ones disgruntled by the fact that they had to leave. Little Jack even clung onto Hermione's leg as she walked towards the exit, causing her to exchange an amused smile with Harry.
Once they were in the car on the road towards the Christmas Market, Hermione couldn't help but feel warm. They'd done something good; something important. Because of it, she couldn't stop herself from looking back at Harry every chance she could. He was still wearing his Santa's hat, but the childish joy from earlier was gone. She could tell that he was thinking about his nightmares and it broke her heart. Harry Potter deserved to feel his happiness, and not feel guilty about it.
"Urgh," Michael suddenly said, drawing the attentions of both Harry and Hermione. "How am I expected to find parking in all of this?"
It took nearly ten minutes for Hermione to spot a free spot opposite a house covered in Christmas lights. It was a tight squeeze, but Michael claimed to be a wizard at parallel-parking, to which Hermione mentioned that, in a few years; neither she nor Harry would actually have to worry about parking at all. She was rewarded with a patented Granger-eye-roll and an unimpressed huff.
"Do you think she's started a fight yet?" Michael asked as the three of them started on their way to the park on foot.
"It's never actually her, remember?" Hermione commented, sounding amused.
Michael laughed. No, he guffawed, which was surprising to both teenagers. "Isn't this just the greatest holiday ever?"
Harry and Hermione were inclined to agree. She even leaned into him slightly, and whispered to him: "He can be so sappy sometimes."
"I like it," he admitted, glancing at her. "And can you honestly say that this isn't the greatest holiday ever? Because I think it is."
Hermione smiled at him. "I think it is too, Harry Potter."
For a terrifying moment, Harry wanted to take hold of her hand and just keep her close, but he kept both his arms firmly down at his sides. He had no idea how she would react to it and he definitely wasn't going to try to figure it out in a public place.
"Look up," Hermione said, as they passed through the gates of the park, and Harry did as he was told. He spied a wonderfully colourful banner, basically inviting him into enjoying the festive season in all its glory.
Rockhampton Christmas Market
It was like stepping into another world as they crossed under the banner. There were so many stalls, each of them sporting a sharp red, definitely promoting the Christmas spirit. There were food vendors, people selling all sorts of ornaments, knitted gifts and jewellery.
A lot of the things looked homemade, and were specially themed. Really, there was an entire stall dedicated to Spice Girlsmemorabilia. It made Hermione laugh, but she made no real comment. There was even a small petting zoo and a carousel for the little children.
Harry looked intrigued by the various games on offer, and he made a mental note to try to win something for Hermione if they had time.
"There she is!" Michael called out from in front of the teenagers. "Doesn't my wife look amazing?"
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look before they both laughed.
"Dad, she's literally just standing there," Hermione said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "And you're going to start looking rather creepy if you just keep staring like that."
"She's my wife," he said, starting to walk. "I'm allowed to stare."
Harry and Hermione exchanged an amused look, but said nothing as they followed Michael into the main marquee. It smelt divine, and Harry couldn't quite believe the sheer amount of baked goodies around him. His head was even starting to spin.
Hermione grabbed hold of his arm and leaned in so she could whisper to him. "I know this seems like a silly little pie competition, but it's much bigger than that," she said, her eyes darting about. "They've been cases of sabotage, so they had to increase the security around the pies. Also, you see that woman over there..." Hermione gestured with her head to a woman in a black and white dress faffing over her own set of pies, and then waited for Harry's nod. "Her name is Carrie Burwell, and she's been the runner-up to my mum for the last three years. Naturally, there's bad blood."
Harry, admittedly, found it all terribly amusing, but he didn't dare laugh. Clearly, this was important to the Granger women.
"There you are," Jane exclaimed when she spotted the three of them. "Just in time." She hugged each of them before she showed them the pies she'd spent the better part of the morning slaving over.
"They all look so amazing, Mum," Hermione said. "Which one do you think will win it this year?"
Jane looked embarrassed for a moment, before she shrugged. "Really, I don't mind which one does it; just that one of them does. We can't have Carrie Burwell winning. No, we can't have that."
Harry was sure that the animosity went back way before pies, but he didn't dare ask. Perhaps it was the warning look that Michael sent him that made him snap his mouth shut. Perhaps he'd ask Hermione later.
It was odd for Harry though. He couldn't imagine what reason Jane would have for having whatever conflict she had with this other woman. But then he met her, and he truly realised. He was amazed that anyone did like her.
Then Harry spotted a girl - who Hermione harshly whispered was the woman's daughter - headed his and Hermione's way, and it only got worse.
Hermione stiffened at his side. "We went to school together," she whispered in a hurry. "She's mean and cold, and she hates me, though I've never really been sure why. She's probably going to comment on my supposed school, probably my hair, and - "
"Hermione!" the girl said, putting on a smile fake enough that Harry was surprised it hadn't yet fallen off her face. He decided right then that he wasn't going to entertain any of this girl's antics. Hermione mentioned that her name was Chloe, but Harry wasn't to know that.
"Hello," Hermione said tensely. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm great," she said, but didn't return the question. "You look, uh... well."
"As do you."
Chloe's gaze drifted towards Harry, and her face turned from her slight scowl to something equally scary. Truthfully, she looked like she wanted to eat Harry, and the boy shifted awkwardly, absently stepping towards Hermione, as if they could shield each other. Chloe noticed the movement, and her eyes narrowed. "You can't honestly be here with her," she said stiffly, her eyes on Harry. "You must be related. In some very distant way."
Harry didn't respond, and neither did Hermione.
Chloe just looked from witch to wizard, and then back to witch. "You aren't honestly together, are you? I mean, you could do so much better than the know-it-all."
Hermione flushed, and she was about to respond when Harry spoke, surprising all three of them.
"I'm sorry, but I didn't quite catch your name," he said seriously, frowning at her.
Chloe visibly perked up, enjoying the fact that Harry was talking to her. "Oh, I'm - " she started to say, but Harry cut her off.
"And I didn't actually ask because, frankly, I don't really care."
Hermione's jaw dropped, and Chloe looked like she'd just eaten something sour.
"I don't mean to be rude," he said, blatantly lying; "but it's just my automatic reaction to people who undermine my relationship with Hermione. Now, if you'll excuse us; I believe Jane Granger has a pie competition to win."
This time, Harry did take hold of Hermione's hand and proceeded to lead her away. He was irritated and annoyed, and he felt slightly ashamed. But no. He couldn't stand bullies, and it was different this time. That girl was not Ron, and Harry felt no allegiance to her. So he was able to put her in her place the way that he sometimes wished he had done with Ron back in their first year.
"I'm sorry about that," Harry said softly, as they approached Jane and Michael once more. "I was incredibly rude."
"You were," she agreed; "but it was brilliant. Truly."
Harry looked at her, clearly surprised. "I just don't understand why people think it's okay to treat you that way," he said, huffing. "And then to assume that I wouldn't be here with you. As if." He shook his head. "I'd be so lucky."
Hermione froze. "What?"
The moment that Harry realised what he'd said, he blushed a deep, deep red, and made a point of not looking at her. Thankfully, they were both saved from their embarrassing moment by Jane turning her eyes towards them.
"I see you survived Chloe," she said, smiling slightly. "I'm not straying from this spot," she informed them; "not with that Carrie about. She probably sent her daughter this way to sabotage me."
"Mum, you're just being paranoid," Hermione said. "There's no way that she'll try something this year."
"She already did," Jane said, huffing. "Something about how my custard pie should never have won last year, because the main filling wasn't taken from the Earth, or something ridiculous like that. She's pioneering to get the custard pies disqualified from this year's competition." She glanced down at Harry and Hermione. "Well, isn't this turning out to be a peach of day?" she asked, looking slightly annoyed.
"Maybe you should have made a peach pie instead," Hermione said, earning herself a glare.
Harry gently took hold of Hermione's wrist and tugged her away from her mother and towards where Michael was standing, the older man trying to look as inconspicuous as he possibly could. He visibly perked up when he spotted the teenagers.
"I'm married to her, so I can't leave," he said, shrugging slightly as he took out some money. "But here's some cash for you two. Enjoy the market for all four of us, will you?"
Hermione hurriedly took the Pounds from her father, grabbed Harry's hand and practically dragged him out of the marquee, her mind already running away from her. She wondered what she could do to convince him to wear a Baby Spice sweater.
He wasn't ready to go inside just yet.
Harry Potter was standing out on the back porch of the Granger house alone, looking out into the cold darkness and thinking. It'd been a long day, to say the least, and that odd feeling from when he woke up was back, niggling at him and slowly eating away at the happiness he so desperately wanted to feel.
He'd been standing out there for a while. After they'd eaten supper, Hermione'd gone to have a warm shower, and Harry decided some thinking time was needed. His attention was drawn to the sound of someone emerging from the house, but he didn't turn to see who it was. "Didn't anyone tell you that it's cold outside?" he asked over his shoulder, thinking the footsteps belonged to Hermione.
Jane managed a small smile as she moved to stand next to Harry. "Actually, Michael did make me wrap up tighter than usual," she said, and Harry startled.
"Oh," he sounded, clutching at his chest. "I, uh, I thought you were Hermione."
"Nope," she said, bumping him slightly as she folded her arms across her chest to keep herself warm. "Just me."
Harry glanced at her, before returning his attention to the frozen pool in front of him. "Congratulations on your win, by the way," he said. "That chocolate pecan pie was amazing. You'll have to show me how you make it."
"I'm actually about to make some more," she said. "Special order from my mum for tomorrow."
"Are you trying to get me to come inside?" he asked, still not looking at her. "I, umm - "
"I'm not," she said. "I, just, well, I'm sure that you've noticed that..."
"You've been acting a little weird around me," he said sadly. "Hermione told me that she told you about Cedric. If you want me to go, I can. I can call the Knight Bus, and I'll - "
"Harry, no!" she said quickly, her eyes snapping towards him. "Of course not! Don't you ever think that!"
Harry just blinked at her, clearly surprised by her outburst.
"Just, no, okay?"
"Okay."
Jane breathed out. "What I wanted to say is that, yes, I've been acting a bit strange because, after Hermione told me what happened, because I've been trying to figure out how best to help you."
Harry stared at her, surprised.
"It's my understanding that you haven't truly dealt with what's happened to you, and I'm worried about what that's doing to you, both emotionally and mentally. It's unhealthy for you to be having the type of dreams that you do, and at this frequency."
Harry already knew that. If he had a way, he would have tried to stop the nightmares a long time ago. And, believe him, the Occlumency was not helping. And, even if he could suppress the memories of Little Hangleton; there was still so much more that was terrifying about the life he was living.
"I have this friend, Harry," she said carefully. "Her name is Betsy... Well, it's really Elizabeth Danvers, and she does a lot of work with children who have, umm, experienced trauma."
Harry blinked.
"After what I learned this morning, I made a call to her to ask her for ways that we can help you," she went on, needing to push on. "Because we want to, Harry. It's not only Hermione. Michael and I, we care about you. I know that you just met us, properly, and it's probably odd for you to have strangers care about you, but we do, and I can't stand the thought that you have nightmares, or that you've had to face so much darkness in your life."
"But it is my life," he said, sounding resigned. He wasn't yet willing to deal with all the emotions of having them care about him the way they claimed. It would overwhelm him because, really, who did truly care?
Dumbledore surely didn't.
"It's my life, and I have no choice but to live it."
Jane sighed. He was too accepting, somewhat malleable, and she started to think that that was probably the intention. When the time came, and she feared that it would; he would do whatever was expected of him.
But what gave her hope was that, despite all the abuse and pain and lack of affection he appeared to have experienced so far; despite the fact that he'd been overwhelmed by the unfairness and injustice of his young life; he still cared. Deeply. She could see it every time he was with Hermione. Even just the way that he looked at her. This boy still had the amazing ability to feel and to love and care about all things and that was something that Jane knew that they had to protect.
"I want you to know that you can talk to us," Jane said. "It's an offer, not a request. We would never force you to do anything you don't want to, but you can talk to us. About anything."
It was all she would say at that point. She told herself that she'd wait for at least ten minutes, and then she would go inside, and send Hermione out. Her daughter explained that these moods of Harry's tended to come and go, and they were mainly based on his reactions to the reminder that people were sure to die because of him. There would be more deaths. Of that, Harry and Hermione were absolutely certain.
"This world is cruel," Harry suddenly said, glancing at Jane as they stood in the dark. He removed his hands from his pockets and placed them on the railing in front of them. "This world, or theirworld; it's all the same." He took a jagged breath. "I thought it would be different, you know. I entered this fascinating world and I believed it would be an escape, from all the pain of my relatives, of not knowing; but it wasn't like that at all. People with wands can be just as cruel as those without, and, it, just - it's not fair.
"And I get it, you know... I've known it for a while: life isn't fair. But that doesn't mean that I don't have to be," he said quietly. "I've been fighting for a decent life since I can remember, Jane. It feels like I'm constantly fighting some battle, whether it's inside me, or out there."
Jane listened in silence.
"I like to put myself away," he continued, his voice a little more than a whisper. "Seek out a little silence. There's this large rock by the Black Lake that I like. I go there sometimes, and just sit for a while."
Jane gently put a hand over his where it was resting on the wooden railing. "Does it help?" she asked softly.
"Sometimes," he admitted, staring down at their gloved fingers. "Hermione finds me sometimes, and she, well, she kind of forces me to talk to her, which I - " he let out a light laugh. "You truly do have an amazing daughter, did you know that?"
Jane smiled at him. "I did know that, actually."
Harry chuckled for a moment, before he turned serious once more. "She's always been there for me, you know? She's always saving me, from all the hardships, from myself. And, no matter how many other people have let me down, she has never once left my side... She's honestly the best friend I've ever had, and I - I don't know what I'd do without her."
Jane wasn't sure what she was feeling at this point. Clearly, Hermione's friendship was a vital part of Harry's life, and of his happiness. It was a lot of pressure to put on a sixteen-year-old.
"I, uh, I don't think that I've ever really told her how much I appreciate everything she's ever done for me," he continued. "Especially this. This has been the best holiday I've ever had."
This time, Jane stepped closer to him, put an arm around his shoulders and tried her best to ignore the fact that he still stiffened at the contact. This poor, poor boy.
"Thank you," he finally said, whispering the words as the two of them stood for a while. The silence seemed to stretch on but neither of them moved. Harry wouldn't be able to explain just what he was feeling, but it was definitely something positive. He'd even go so far as to say that he felt safe.
It was Michael who called them inside. "Oi, you two," he said, sounding amused. "The princess and I would like to open our selected presents now, thank you very much."
Jane and Harry shared a small chuckle, before they both headed inside. Things had been said, but neither of them could say that the conversation was over. There were still demons haunting Harry, but Jane suspected that he would experience a better sleep tonight.
Once inside, they learned that Michael and Hermione had made hot chocolate with marshmallows. They'd even gone so far as to pick out everyone's single Christmas gift to be opened on Christmas Eve, as per tradition.
Harry's gift was from Hermione, and he opened it to reveal a pitch black tie with a large picture of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh near its tip. When he sent her a questioning look, she offered him a cryptic explanation; an explanation that Harry fully accepted.
"He's warm."
She decided that it was time to get some sleep.
Hermione Granger was still thinking about how she'd spent the day before Christmas, when there was a soft knock on her door. She barely got her 'Enter' out before the door was opening, and Harry Potter was popping his head into the room.
"Are you decent?" he asked cheekily.
"Little creep," she teased, and a full-blown grin took over his face, making her heart stutter.
"Can I come in?" he asked.
Hermione shifted to her right and gently pat the bed beside her. "By all means," she said. "To what do I owe this visit?"
Harry stepped into the room, gently closed the door and then scampered towards her bed. He didn't speak again until he was settled in beside her, the side of his body touching hers. "Were you about to go to bed?" he asked, feeling a little unsure of himself.
"Just about," she told him truthfully. "I just finished writing in my journal. Today turned out to be quite the day, didn't it?"
"It did," he agreed. "Did you write anything about me?" he asked quietly, still wary of asking her such a question.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "We spent the entire day together, Harry. You were certainly bound to pop up at some point."
Harry nibbled at his bottom lip, trying to force himself not to ask the question he desperately wanted to.
Hermione noticed, and she smiled warmly. Without his having to ask, she reached across him - which would have been a simple enough action if she hadn't breathed him in and got a little lightheaded - to retrieve her journal. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings again, and then she opened her journal to the desired page. She skimmed over the start of the day until she got to something she could read aloud.
"Umm, okay, let's see... 'To be completely honest, I was worried about what Harry would say to the fact that I told my mum about Cedric.'" She stopped to glance at Harry, who had his head leaning back and his eyes closed. "'I know my mum will have more questions, but I don't have answers. I can tell she's worried. This morning was enough of an indicator. She kept looking at him, and I could tell that he noticed.' Did you two talk about it?" she asked.
Harry nodded. "We did, yes."
"Are you okay?"
Harry opened one eye to peek at her. "I am now."
She felt herself blush, before she continued to search through her words, looking for something else to read to him. "'Every time I think about what happened with Chloe today, I cringe. It was awful. I don't even know why she's always insisted on being such a bitch, and I hate that she dragged Harry into it.'"
"Whoa, Hermione," he commented, chuckling. "My pretty girl using dirty words in secret. I like it."
By now, her cheeks were flaming red. Did he even realise what he said?
"And you don't have to worry about Chloe," he added. "She's just a mean bully, and I think you're perfect."
Hermione had half a mind to tell him to stop speaking entirely, but her mouth wasn't working.
"Is there any more?"
Hermione cleared her throat, her eyes returning to the pages in front of her. "'I've decided that a Harry Potter in a Santa's hat is my favourite thing in the entire world.'" Hermione blushed fiercely, and she had to force herself not to look at him. "'He was so great with the kids, laughing and joking and just brightening up their day. I think I'm going to start calling him a sunshine kid, just because of his uncanny ability to make the people around him feel warm.'"
Harry leaned his head against her shoulder. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked quietly.
"Hmm."
"You make me feel warm, Hermione," he whispered. "You don't even have to touch me sometimes," he elaborated. "It's just who you are, as yourself, and to me. You make me feel warm, and I completely forget that I ever felt cold."
Hermione swallowed, her brain struggling to compute. Wait. What was he saying?
"I just thought that you ought to know that you make everything okay. You always do."
Hermione dropped her head onto his, and allowed herself to enjoy this moment without over-analysing it. He was saying so many things, and yet nothing that she didn't already know. She was important to him; that much she knew, but would she ever be as important to him as he was to her?
Were either of them even ready for such a thing?
Hermione had to force the thoughts from her mind. Now definitely wasn't the time for her to be thinking about such things. Harry needed her in a very different way right now, and she was always going to be what he needed.
She would worry about what she needed at another time. After all, wasn't that what love truly was anyway?