Chapter 1892 - Ch: 7

Chapter 7: Desperate and Reluctant

Two Little Words

by,

Kender Speak

Sunday morning, Hermione woke bright and early, still enveloped by the good mood Harry had given her that, when he'd relieved her of her worries and concerns by ordering her to take a nap, had carried her through Friday as if wrapped in the warm cotton blanket of his love and care. She had been in such a pleasant mood all through Friday and Saturday that even Ron couldn't bring her down with his sniping and bad attitude; and several people, student and professor alike, commented on her seemingly inexhaustible cheer. Her only response was that she'd gotten a very good night's rest, and just felt wonderful because of it.

Every time she'd said that within Harry's hearing range, the boy had worn a bit of a smug smirk that had her confused as to whether she wanted to hit him or kiss him. Perhaps both?

Her pleasant mood aside, Friday had progressed amazingly well, and while Harry was at Quidditch practice, putting the Firebolt through its paces for the game on Saturday, Hermione had managed to finish off all of her classwork for the week. With that all done, she'd pulled out parchment, ink, and quill, and set about a task she'd been terribly remiss in completing.

Writing a letter home to her parents.

The problem had then become what to tell them? She knew her mother would be cautiously thrilled to learn that she and Harry were dating. Her father would be a different story, but she hoped he wouldn't take the news too hard. She was absolutely not going to tell her mother any of what they were doing beyond admitting to a few kisses and the increased time that they spent cuddling together on the sofa by the fire.

The problem that then presented itself as she was writing was two-fold. First, she remembered the promise she'd made to her mother before returning to school: Be careful. Well that they were certainly doing. Harry hadn't initiated anything particularly sexual beyond the day he named her 'Mine,' even if he had given her one of the best orgasms of her short life. Plus, she was on the potion so there was little risk of her getting pregnant.

The second part of her promise was what was causing her trouble. Her promise to write to her mother if she needed to talk, or just for advice. She'd indicated that she wouldn't be excited if Hermione wanted advice regarding sex, but that she was willing to discuss it. Had she honestly mean that though? Or was that just one of those things parents say where they secretly hope the topic never comes up, despite offering to help?

No. This was her mother. She knew her well enough to know that Helen Granger did not say things that she didn't mean. If she said she wanted Hermione to write to her if she needed advice then she meant it, and no matter how uncomfortable the topic might make her she would do her best to help.

After considering her options for several minutes she finished her letter home, telling her parents all about her classes and mentioning her new relationship with Harry, how happy she was that the two of them had managed to get past their fears and actually start a relationship at all. She ended the letter with a request to invite Harry to stay with them during at least some part of the summer holidays and mentally crossed her fingers, hoping they would say yes. Her mother would probably be all for it, simply for the chance to get to know Harry, while her dad would probably attempt to say no, just to keep his little girl away from a boy. Of course, Hermione had every faith that her mum would be able to convince him to let Harry visit.

With that letter completed, she set about writing a second letter, one for her mother's eyes only, and carefully penned her questions. Harry had declared her beautiful on several occasions now, but he didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to do much personally with or to her. She realized that she'd appreciated that when he ordered her to take a nap Thursday night, but by Friday evening she was more than a little frustrated with how slow the boy was going with their relationship.

She wanted to do something for him, something to show her appreciation and to declare, in no uncertain terms, that she was more than ready for their relationship to progress further than they had so far. Of course, she wasn't entirely sure exactly how to go about that, and asking her mother's advice will require quite a bit of hedging around topics; not to mention expressly omitting other things. There was no way she could tell her mother that she trusted Harry to not just be using her, because she honestly trusted him touse her; she wanted him to. That would certainly not go over well, but she made sure to stress how happy he made her and how much she trusted him, especially how much he'd proven he could be trusted over the last couple of years.

In the end, she even revealed that she'd heard him talking to her when she'd been hospitalized the last year. She didn't go into any details of course, that would be betraying Harry's trust, but she said enough to indicate that she knew him very well and that he would never intentionally hurt her, or take advantage of her. With any luck at all, that would be enough to allay any concerns her mother might have beyond the usual worries of her daughter being sexually active at fourteen. That one concern was certainly going to be enough of a hurdle for her mother to get over without adding anything else to it.

When the ink on her letters had finally dried, she'd rolled them up, sealed them, and headed off for the owlery to send them home. Harry had told her in the past that she was welcome to ask Hedwig to carry any post she needed, as he didn't write to anyone often enough and his gorgeous familiar would be happy for the excuse to actually do some work. When she'd arrived she'd looked for the bright white plumage of her boyfriends familiar and gently called the beautiful owl down. A brief, if somewhat one-sided, conversation had ensued and within minutes Hedwig was winging her way south through the chilly evening air, the two scrolls tied securely to her legs.

Saturday had been laid back and easy with nothing to do and nowhere to be until the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw that afternoon. Malfoy managed to get himself, Crabbe, and Goyle detention for attempting to sabotage Harry during the game by dressing up as Dementors; the fact that Harry had finally produced his patronus during the match was just icing on the cake in her opinion. Of course, the other students in Gryffindor couldn't have cared less about her Harry performing such a difficult piece of magic; he'd caught the snitch and no one else could be bothered by anything other than that one salient fact.

She honestly couldn't begrudge them their excitement. Just because she didn't care for the sport, or understand why people were so obsessed with it, didn't mean she couldn't see how much it meant to them. So as much as she might have wanted to get Harry somewhere alone to offer a private congratulations, she'd bit her tongue and been patient since much of his attention had been taken up by their house mates congratulating him and espousing their praise over the brilliant broom he'd acquired.

Luckily, only a few knew of the small bit of chaos that had surrounded that broom. She knew that even being Harry's girlfriend would not have saved her from more than a few scathing comments from the rest of the house otherwise.

So with Sunday upon her, Hermione climbed quickly out of bed, showering and dressing without lingering, in order for her to get downstairs as quickly as she could. She'd noticed since they'd started dating that Harry seemed to be getting up much earlier in the mornings as she'd often come across him sitting at one of the tables in the Common Room studying class notes or reading through the Ancient Runes textbooks. With any luck at all, she could hopefully catch him alone and give him that congratulations that had been denied her during the party last night.

By the time she got downstairs though, there were a lot more people up and moving about than she'd ever encountered at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning. Slightly perplexed she scanned the room, looking for the distinctive mop of black hair that was such a defining feature. She'd easily spotted Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan talking with Neville and Ron near the portrait hole, but there was no sign of Harry.

Another look around showed that all of the students present weren't acting in the usual weekend manner, as in playing games, talking, or laughing over one thing or another. No, they all appeared to be clumping in small groups, talking in hushed tones, while some, like Lavender and Parvati, scurried from group to group where they would exchange a few words before moving on.

What in Godric's name is going on here? she thought as she came down the last few steps into the Common Room proper and cast her gaze around one last time. Spying the two redheads she wanted to speak to she squared her shoulders and marched her way up to them.

"Fred, George," she called interrupting their discussion with the three chasers from the Gryffindor team. "Do you have any idea where Harry is? And just what is going on? Why are so many people awake this early?"

"You haven't heard?" Twin one asked, turning to her in surprise.

"Half the tower was woken up-"

"-last night when it happened."

"McGonagall has been-"

"-trying to get people to go-"

"-back to sleep since."

"Enough with the twin pong and just tell me what's going on?" she demanded, a sense of apprehension growing in her chest. Something had happened and Harry was missing. That usually meant she'd be visiting him in the Hospital Wing.

"Cut it out you two," Angelina said, slapping one of the twins across the back of his head while Alicia smacked the other one. "Hermione, it sounds like Black broke into the tower last night," she explained in a gentle tone of voice. "From what we've been able to figure out, Harry was down here when he came in and fought or scared him off. We haven't really been able to figure out exactly what happened."

An icy sliver of fear drove its way into her chest as her entire body tensed up at that news.

"Is Harry…"

"He's fine, as far as we know," Alicia said from where she was leaning against one of the twins. "McGonagall took him to see the Headmaster and he's been gone since, but I don't think he was hurt. I'm surprised you weren't woken up, it wasn't exactly quiet around here."

At that Hermione had to fight back a blush. Her dreams lately had been getting more and more explicit and she'd been worried that she might say something in her sleep so she'd taken to placing silencing charms around her bed each night. It looked like it was time to research one-way silencing spells or something else so that she wouldn't be caught unawares again.

"I've got to go see him," she muttered, frowning worriedly. "Do you think he's at the Hospital Wing?"

The five of them shrugged.

"No idea. They might have made him go, just in case, but he really didn't seem like he was hurt when I saw him," Katie said.

"How did Black even get into the tower?"

Both of the twins winced at that one.

"Looks like he'd found a piece of parchment where someone had written down all of this week's passwords. Neville owned up to having done that and then lost it. With Cadogan making up such ridiculous passwords and changing them so often, Neville wrote them down so he wouldn't be locked out of the Tower. Cadogan told the Headmaster that Black had all the passwords written down so he just let the maniac into the tower. He's going to be removed and the Fat Lady should be back by the end of the day."

Thanking them profusely for the information, Hermione hurried back up to the dorms and grabbed her class robes, throwing them on over her blouse and skirt before then rushing back out and down the stairs. She didn't even give the portrait time to swing open on its own as she pushed her way through, ignoring the startled exclamation from behind her. Her flight through the castle seemed to pass in a blink as her mind whirled through all the possible things that could have happened to Harry.

Dammit, why is it always Harry? she thought while she ran. More than once she plunged right through one of the castle's many ghosts, in far too much of a hurry to even attempt to dodge around them. Portraits shouted behind her for running, but she ignored them with the same single-minded focus that she'd ignored the icy feeling of passing through a ghost.

When the doors leading into the Hospital Wing finally loomed ahead of her she didn't even slow down, slamming into them with her full weight behind the impact, sending them bursting open as she skidded into the room beyond.

"... telling you that I'm fine. Can I please go?" Harry was saying as she burst into the Wing.

When the doors banged against the walls on either side of the entryway, both Madam Pomfrey and Harry jumped and turned toward her as she skidded to a stop, panting harshly from her mad dash through the halls.

"Miss Granger! I will not have students bursting into my Hospital Wing like that," Madam Pomfrey admonished her, but Hermione barely noticed as she hurried over to the bed where Harry was sitting up against a pillow, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Are you alright?" she asked him breathlessly, wanting desperately to throw herself into his arms, yet unsure if she'd hurt him in the process.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he assured her before shooting another irritated glance in the Mediwitch's direction. "I wasn't hurt at all, but they've had me in here all night and Madam Pomfrey refuses to let me leave."

"Mister Potter, there are any number of spells Black could have cast that could have serious detrimental effects-"

"Madam Pomfrey, he didn't have a wand," Harry interrupted her. "I told you, he had a huge knife but he didn't get near me and he didn't cast any spells at all."

"Be that as it may you are still not leaving this Wing until I say you can."

Exasperated, Harry threw his arms up into the air, leaning back again against the pillow behind him.

"So, you're not hurt?" Hermione asked as she started to get her breath back and her pulse began to slow.

"No, Hermione. I'm perfectly fine. I didn't get hurt at all."

With that said she stopped restraining herself and suddenly lunged forward, practically flying into his arms. Before she completely realized what she was doing, relieved tears were streaming down her cheeks and her lips had found his, almost desperately kissing him. The sound of a throat being cleared behind her finally managed to cut through her hazy mind and her brain finally caught up with her body.

She let out a mortified squeak and moved to jerk away from him but he held her tightly enough that all she was able to do was break their kiss.

"I'm fine," he whispered, his eyes staring searchingly into hers.

"You're the reigning champion of 'fine'," she reminded him. "So, are you actually 'fine', or are you F.I.N.E?" she asked and he snorted out a laugh.

"I really am just fine, Hermione. Not a scratch on me."

"Miss Granger, if you could please get off of my patient I could finish my diagnostic spells and we could all be about our day," Madam Pomfrey said and Hermione scrambled out of Harry's arms and away from the bed. She used the excuse of needing to wipe away the tears that still stained her face in order to avoid looking at the Mediwitch while she worked. The amusement in the woman's voice had been more than enough for her, she didn't need to see it in her expression as well.

"I'm still not sure I should let you leave, Mister Potter," Madam Pomfrey said a few moments later after she'd finished her spells and Hermione had finished collecting herself. "Black is exceedingly dangerous and you-"

"Madam Pomfrey," Harry interrupted the woman again and Hermione actually started in surprise as his posture shifted and his voice took on a very familiar tone. He was leveling a steady, unflinching stare at the woman, his green eyes like cold emerald chips in his face. "I wasn't hurt at all. I've already told you that he didn't actually touch me. He didn't come near me. There is nothingwrong with me. You can't keep me here for no reason. So I'll be leaving. I have more important things to do than spend them sitting around here for absolutely no reason. If anyone needs to speak to me I will likely be in either the Gryffindor Common Room or the Library, but I won't be staying here a minute longer."

With that said he threw back the thin blanket that was draped over his legs and turned in the bed, throwing his legs over the side so that his feet could find the floor.

"Mister Potter!" Madam Pomfrey protested. "I haven't released you, yet."

"You don't have any reason to keep me here," he reminded her again as he slipped his feet into his battered trainers and reached for his robes to throw on over his jeans and t-shirt.

"If you don't get back in that bed this instant I'll have to stun you, Mister Potter," she threatened and he turned, his expression now angry.

"Do that, Madam Pomfrey, and I'll be contacting the DMLE and the School Board of Governors to question why a member of the staff would attack a student. Not that it would be the first time that's happened around here, so maybe that's just expected at Hogwarts?"

Madam Pomfrey could only sputter for a few moments while Harry grabbed his wand, tucked it into his robes and then reached out for Hermione's hand. Without thinking, she responded to the action, slipping her hand into his and he wordlessly led her from the Hospital Wing, leaving a dumbfounded Mediwitch behind.

"That probably wasn't my smartest move ever," Harry mused a few minutes later as they were making their way slowly toward Gryffindor Tower. They were moving slowly because Hermione had wrapped both her arms around his and was leaning her head against his shoulder, reassuring herself through that simple contact that he really was fine.

"What's that?" she asked softly, looking up at his profile from her spot on his shoulder.

"Upsetting Madam Pomfrey. I mean… we know my luck. Even odds I'll end up in there again for some injury and now she'll be nursing a grudge." He paused looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling for a moment before he shrugged his free shoulder. "No pun intended."

"I'll let it slide... this time," she giggled, "but only if you tell me what happened last night. All I got was that Black showed up somehow?"

"Yeah um…. let's get back to the Tower, Ron should hear this too, I think."

She pulled slightly away from Harry so they could walk a little faster though she refused to let go of his hand and another thought occurred to her that she decided to get out of the way before they had company.

"Why did you do that?" she asked. "With Madam Pomfrey, I mean? You… well you kind of got like you do with me when…." She trailed off, blushing furiously.

"You said it yourself, Hermione. I don't have a lot of control in my life. I was just so tired of her not letting me leave when there was nothing wrong that I decided I just wasn't going to put up with it anymore. I spent half the night angry about the whole thing and I'd decided I was going to do something soon; just about when you showed up actually. It just seemed like the right time to assert myself a little."

She favored him with another one of the beaming smiles that had become more and more commonplace since the start of their relationship, then leaned over to kiss his cheek, thrilled with him for taking some action for himself. That had been precisely what she'd hoped would happen when she'd considered what learning some control and a bit more confidence in himself might be able to achieve. Well… she hadn't actually expected him to use that new confidence and assurance against their School Nurse, but him asserting himself and learning not to simply take things sitting down was exactly in line with her thinking.

By the time they reached the portrait, Hermione was beginning to feel a bit less as if she were lost at sea, as she had when she made her worried dash across the castle to find him in the Hospital Wing. With a calmer mind, her intellect began to assert itself once again and she pulled him to a stop before they could actually enter the Tower, her brow furrowed in thought.

"Hermione?" he asked curiously.

"If you go in there, you're going to get mobbed by people wanting to ask about what happened," she pointed out and he grimaced in response, his face twisting with distaste as he realized that she was right. "What if I go in and tell Ron you need him out here?"

"Think that'll work? He's still being a berk to you about Scabbers."

She shrugged. "Only one way to find out," she said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek before she reluctantly let go of his hand and went to track down Ron Weasley.

Locating Ron wasn't difficult at all, his bright red hair standing out like a beacon to show where he was sitting near the fire, still in the company of the other boys from Harry's dorm. Neville was the first to notice her approaching as she dodged questions from other students on her way across the crowded room, and he nudged Ron with his elbow, directing the redhead's attention to her.

"What'd you want?" Ron snapped as she came to a stop near his chair. "No more pets around here for you to sic that beast of yours on."

"Ronald, we don't know that-" She cut herself off and took a deep breath. "I'm not here to argue with you about your rat, Ron," she said. "Harry wanted to talk to you since you have been friends since first year. If you'd rather throw that away and just sit here being a prat instead, well, that's fine then. I'll let him know you're not interested."

With her piece said, she spun on her heel and marched her way back toward the exit. Behind her, she heard Ron mutter something and then the sound of his footsteps following her out of the Tower.

#####

When the portrait closed behind his girlfriend, he shoved his hands in his pockets and settled in to wait. There was no way to really tell just how long it would take for Hermione to deal with Ron, or even if she would be successful in getting him out of the Tower.

While he waited he realized that he had more information to impart than just what had happened last night. Information that he'd forgotten to share with either of his closest friends. In his defense, several unexpected things had taken place in rather quick succession, so he had an excuse for forgetting to bring it up. Hermione, he felt, would be disappointed in him, before most likely moving onto being very worried for him. Ron… well Ron would likely be surprised and then dismiss most of it as unimportant.

The portrait suddenly swung open and Hermione came out, an angry frown on her face. When he gave her a concerned look she only shook her head. With narrowed eyes, he opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong when the portrait suddenly swung open again and Ron came clambering out, his ears a tell-tale red and a similar angry scowl plastered on his face.

Holding back a frustrated sigh, he simply held his hand out to his girlfriend and then led the two of them to the classroom where Hermione had spent some time ranting about Ron last Thursday evening. Once inside he directed them both to a pair of the student desks before taking up his, now customary, position leaning against the Professor's desk, his arms crossed over his chest.

"What's going on, Mate?" Ron asked after several minutes had passed in silence.

Startled out of his thoughts, he glanced up at his friend for a moment before his eyes darted toward Hermione. She was watching him with a worried expression on her face, her teeth worrying at her lower lip and her hands clenched on the desk in front of her.

"I figured the two of you deserved to hear about what happened last night more than anyone, but I realized that I forgot to tell you something else that happened a few weeks ago," he admitted.

"On Christmas Eve, I snuck down to the village under my dad's cloak. I know it wasn't a smart idea and I shouldn't have done it," he said, raising a hand to cut off Hermione before she could speak.

In response, her mouth snapped shut and she let out an annoyed 'hmph,' before leaning back in her seat with her own arms crossed over her breasts.

"It's bloody brilliant is what it was," Ron blurted out, ignoring a sharp rebuke from Hermione over his language. "But how come you didn't ask me to come with you?"

"We'd both have had to spend the whole time under the cloak, Ron," Harry pointed out. "Sorry, but we're just not that friendly, Mate."

"How is this related to last night?" Hermione asked over Ron's embarrassed spluttering, a small grin playing around her lips.

"I went into the Three Broomsticks, thinking I might be able to snag a Butterbeer. No idea how I was going to manage that and stay under the cloak, but while I was there I spotted Professors McGonagall and Flitwick as well as Hagrid and Minister Fudge sitting at one of the tables. The door was closed so I couldn't leave. I ended up standing in there for a little while with nothing else to do but listen to their conversation."

There he stopped and tried to consider how best to impart the information he'd come across before deciding that just laying it out was the best way; No hedging around the topic needed.

"First. When we went into hiding, my parents used a spell called the Fidelius, I think that's what it was called. Anyway, from what I heard it does, it takes a location and makes it secret, hiding that secret within a person, so only that person can tell someone else where the place is; Otherwise, it's impossible to find."

Ron blinked a few times, looking a little confused while Hermione was leaning forward, her attention eagerly focused on every word Harry was saying.

"Apparently, my parents made Black their Secret Keeper. Black and my dad were best friends all through school. The Professors and Madam Rosmerta kept talking about how the two of them always seemed like brothers; Best friends and troublemakers. Black was my dad's Best Man when he and my mum got married, and they even made him my godfather. It looks like they also made him their Secret Keeper."

Hermione's face showed understanding first, though for once Ron wasn't far behind as his face paled, causing all of his freckles to stand out rather sharply.

"So… so Black…"

"Black betrayed us to Voldemort," Harry muttered, ignoring the way they both shuddered. "He was their best friend. He is my godfather. Yet he still betrayed them. He delivered the secret to his Master, and led the bastard right to us. Hagrid said that when he was taking me out of the house that night, Black showed up, looking to take me away with him. They argued for a bit but eventually Black gave Hagrid his motorcycle and left. Few days later he was cornered on a street by another friend of theirs, Peter Pettigrew, and Black blew him and half the street up, killing Pettigrew and a dozen muggles all with one spell."

"He sounds like he's incredibly powerful... and dangerous," Hermione said in a small, scared voice, and he couldn't help but nod along.

"It sounds like it but… I don't know, something about last night just isn't fitting."

"H-how do you mean, Mate?"

He sighed and started pacing, his arms still crossed, head down and his brow furrowed in thought.

"I was sitting in the Common Room last night," he said absently, not entirely paying attention to the words leaving his mouth. "I couldn't sleep so I was trying to get some extra work done by studying up on Ancient Runes, then the portrait opened and he just walked right in, bold as brass. He didn't see me at first. I was sitting over by the fire and he was just heading straight for the stairs to the boy's dorms."

He paused, his frown deepening for a moment.

"He was… muttering to himself, but it was so quiet I could still hear him pretty clearly. Something like, 'I won't let you hurt him, Peter.' Black just kept repeating that, over and over. Eventually I stood up and shouted at him. He spun around to face me and I tried to stun or disarm him, but he managed to dodge everything I threw at him. The whole time he had this… shocked look on his face. It was like… like he wasn't sure what he was seeing and when I stopped firing spells at him, he stopped, and just stared at me."

He fell silent again, remembering the encounter in its fullest. Every detail that he could recall was etched in his mind's eye. Eventually he shook himself and turned back toward Ron and Hermione.

"Anyway, he called me James at first before he sort of shook himself, like he was in a daze or something, and then he called me by my name. Said he was sorry, that it was all his fault and he shouldn't have…"

"Shouldn't have… what?" Hermione asked when Harry trailed off.

He shrugged his shoulders, letting out a long sigh and leaning back against the desk again. "That's the thing, he didn't finish that. Just stopped there. He started insisting he didn't want to hurt anyone but he had to get up to the third year dorm. He had to get the rat. Over and over. 'Get the rat. Get the rat. Get the rat, Harry. He'll hurt you. Can't let him hurt you. Not like he hurt James and Lily.'

"Honestly, I didn't know what to think anymore. I thought I hated him. I thought… I thought I wanted to see him die, especially after what I heard on Christmas Eve. I mean… it's no wonder Malfoy was talking about wanting revenge if it'd been him. He knew what Black had done. But… seeing him in the Common Room…. He really didn't look threatening. Not to me at least. I don't think he wanted to hurt me at all. He had this huge knife in one hand and the whole time I was attacking him he didn't once even try to come at me. He kept his distance, and when I stopped, he still kept back."

"Well the bloke's mad, ain't he?" Ron suddenly cut in. "Dad always said the Dementors'll drive anyone mad eventually. He's been in Azkaban for… what, over twelve years?"

"Except he's not mad," Harry disagreed. "When Madam Rosmerta asked Fudge the same thing, he replied that when he saw Black in Azkaban before his break out he was perfectly lucid. Even asked if he could have his copy of the Daily Prophet, calm as you please. Said he missed doing the puzzle. Someone who's mad doesn't act like that."

Silence fell over them for several long minutes before Hermione sat forward in her seat, drawing the boys' attention to her. "What do you think it all means, Harry?" she asked.

He sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. But it brings up a few questions I'd kind of like answers to. I mean… what really happened that night? A lot of people seem to think they know, but I was apparently the only survivor, and I certainly haven't talked to anyone about it, even if I knew myself. Right now, I think Black is the only one that might be able to give me any answers, but…" he shrugged, "I really don't know what to do about the whole thing."

"So what else happened?" Ron asked. "You didn't finish with last night."

He blinked in surprise, his attention swinging toward the other boy for a moment. "Oh... well... after that we heard people moving around upstairs. Black started running for the portrait and it opened just in time for him to shove Professor McGonagall out of the way as he went tearing off out into the hall. No idea what happened to him after that. Before I knew it Professor McGonagall was dragging me off to see the Headmaster, and then they made me spend the night in the Hospital Wing even though Black never came within ten feet of me the whole time."

They considered that for a few moments but when no new thoughts presented themselves, Hermione spoke up again. "Harry, why didn't you tell us about what you heard on Christmas Eve before now?" she asked cautiously.

He shrugged again. "Well, the next day we had the whole Firebolt fiasco," he said absently, noting that a flash of something flickered across Hermione's face for a moment, but it came and went so fast that he couldn't really identify it. "After that, things were kind of strained, and then I just forgot about it until I saw him last night and realized I hadn't told you two yet."

Hermione looked like she was thinking hard, something he'd come to recognize fairly well. Her brow was furrowed again, her bottom lip caught in her teeth and her eyes were focused on a point some distance in front of her but she wasn't really seeing much. "What rat was he was talking about? The only rat around is Scabbers and-"

"Oh no... don't use Black's comments to try to play down your beast's actions, Hermione," Ron burst out.

Hermione blinked and jerked back in her seat, her eyes turning to the redhead beside her as a confused look spread across her face. "What? I'm not projecting Black's... just stop Ron! We need to think this through."

He closed his eyes, debating with himself if there was anything he could do to stop the impending argument, when Ron blew up and started tearing into Hermione. Personally he was grateful to hear the frustration in her voice, it showed the obvious attempt that she was making to remain civil with Ron, and he really did appreciate that.

"All right guys, cut it out," he called, but the two of them continued sniping at each other. He could see that Hermione was rapidly losing her cool.

"Guys, that's enough!" he tried, a bit louder but with no better results.

"ENOUGH!" he finally roared, the blast of sound getting both of them to give him their attention. "God damn it! I have had it up to here with the both of you!" he snapped, holding his hand a good foot above his head. "Ron, you can't just blame Crookshanks for Scabbers. You don't know for certain what happened. Yes, it admittedly seems likely, but that is notproof! Dammit!"

"And you," he added, rounding on Hermione. "How often have you told me to just ignore Malfoy, or Snape, when they start making digs at me, or my friends, or my parents? Take your own advice and realize that he's not going to just suddenly GROW UP! You're letting him get to you when you could just as easily ignore him."

When he stopped, he was panting harshly, his face flushed and his eyes flashing dangerously; both Ron and Hermione looked like a pair of scolded children, though Ron's ears were still very red.

"Ron," he said after a moment to calm himself slightly, "I get that you're upset, but if you can't find a better way to express that than by snapping, and starting arguments, then I'm not certain you should hang around us anymore; Not until you can understand that you don't treat your friends that way. I've let a lot of crap slide with you that maybe I should have spoken up about sooner, but I'm done doing that. Even if Hermione and I weren't together, I still wouldn't be okay with you treating her like this. She's supposed to be your friend, Ron, start acting like like you consider her to be one."

Ron said nothing for several moments, then he rose from his seat and walked out of the room without another word. He didn't think the redhead looked particularly angry anymore, but he wasn't exactly certain just what other boy was feeling, so he didn't know if this was a good thing... or possibly the end of the first friendship he'd ever had with someone his own age.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione spoke up in a small voice a few minutes after Ron had left. "I know I shouldn't let him get to me like that, it's just…"

"I understand that, believe me. Malfoy and Snape, remember?" He sighed and dragged a hand across his face, pushing his glasses up and out of the way to rub tiredly at his eyes. "How're you feeling?" he asked, after repositioning his glasses and turning his attention back to her.

"Annoyed, frustrated, worried." She shrugged and seemed to slump a little more in her seat.

"Did you want to meet me in our room?" he asked softly.

She considered that for a moment, her teeth worrying at her lower lip again before she nodded.

"Yes, Sir," she said just as softly.

His voice took on a harsher edge, and he said, "All right. Go now. I'll be along shortly."

Hermione nodded, already getting to her feet; he could almost see a tingle running down her spine. "Yes, Sir," she said firmly, then hurried out the door, leaving Harry alone in the classroom.

A few minutes later he began following after her. "So," he muttered as he walked. "What're you going to have her do this time?"

#####

A week from that Sunday, Hermione found herself on her bed practicing. She'd charmed the mattress so that it was firmer, nearly as hard as the floor, and she was kneeling in the pose Harry had taught her, 'the Student' as he'd named it. After a bit of searching in the Library, she had found some rather useful spells that she employed now so that a book floated in front of her, allowing her to read it while keeping her hands behind her back, arms crossed at the wrist at the small of her back with her wand held loosely in her right hand.

The last week had held its share of ups and downs. Friday had been Buckbeak's hearing in London, and Saturday she'd received word from Hagrid that they'd lost; the Hippogriff was scheduled to be executed. Her relationship with Ron had been strained, but both had been remarkably more civil toward each other, which she saw as significant improvement over most of the time they usually spent around each other.

On Monday, after a good night's sleep, she'd suggested Harry write to Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE and request information on Sirius Black's trial and the interrogation after his arrest. With any luck she would be able to provide him with copies of the trial and the interrogation, perhaps that would supply him with more information that might help with the questions they kept coming up with surrounding Black and his parents deaths. She wouldn't have even thought of doing that, had she not accidentally mentioned it to Susan Bones during Ancient Runes, prompting the young Hufflepuff to inform her about her aunt, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, information the library lacked.

Aside from the session the previous Sunday, there had been another on Thursday, because she'd been worrying herself sick over Buckbeak's upcoming hearing. Friday he'd kept her occupied all day with classwork, and having her quiz him in preparation for his upcoming meeting with Professor McGonagall to see if he'd pulled his grades up enough to get into the Ancient Runes course. They'd had a third session yesterday, due to her depression after hearing how the hearing had gone. While the sessions were helping, and Harry's idea for her to start off each session waiting for him in her pose had certainly helped get her into the right mindset, she still felt as if something were missing.

Part of the idea with this dynamic was for Harry to use her, sexually, to both their pleasure. At least, that was part of the discussion they'd held when they'd set down their rules and written out the contract they'd signed. So far though, all their sessions had her fully clothed, with the exception of the nap he'd forced her to take, and he'd made no overt sexual contact with her other than the day he'd named her 'Mine'.

One of the sessions he'd had her write out, in graphically explicit detail, some of the fantasies she'd had of him controlling her. What he'd made her do, how it had made her feel, how many times she'd cum during it. That had been… stimulating in its own right, and very embarrassing, but not quite what she was expecting from a teen boy who knew that he basically had a willing fuck toy available to him.

She let out an exasperated sigh and turned another page in her book, reading about punishments while her mind wandered.

Each session she had remained clothed while he'd found creative ways to stimulate her mind and control her behavior, but he still hadn't done anything more with her. Even when she'd worn her shortest skirt and purposely taken off her knickers during their last session while she was waiting for him to arrive in their room. She knew he'd seen her, his reaction had made that very clear, and she was positive she'd never blushed so hard in her life. Once again however, he'd done nothing about it. Why? He said he thought she was beautiful, but was he not actually attracted to her? She could admit that Daphne Greengrass and Susan Bones in her Ancient Runes class were both absolutely gorgeous, but that didn't mean she was attracted to them.

No. She shook that thought from her head. She'd seen just how turned on he got around her, it was obvious even with the baggy jeans that he owned, so he was at least aroused when he was controlling her. That didn't tell her why he refused to do more with her though.

She flicked her wand and the page turned again, as she drove those thoughts from her mind for now, and resolved to discuss them with Harry soon. In the meantime, she had something else she was concerned about, so she directed her focus to the book and carefully read over the information provided. By the time she'd read through it twice, she'd moved to sit up against the headboard, abandoning her pose practice in favor of comfort while she considered the forming idea in the back of her mind.

She didn't think it was a bad idea, and if the information some of the subs had written in their letters and essays was anything to go by, it just might help her. Harry had stated that she could make requests if she felt there was something she really wanted to try or experience. In the end, it would be up to him if he took her request to heart or not, but she could still ask. She felt she had a decent argument to give for her request as well, so she just might be able to convince him.

She spent a few minutes hesitating, waffling back and forth over whether or not she should actually go through with this; could she? Really, was it a good idea? Maybe not. Would it honestly help her? Maybe not, but then again, it really might. Letting out a frustrated sigh she got out of bed, put away the book, and headed down to the Common Room in search of her boyfriend. Maybe if she saw him, it would help her decide what she wanted to do.

Coming off the last step she quickly spotted him, sitting on the sofa near the fire, the broomstick servicing kit that she'd bought him as a birthday gift lying open on a low table in front of him while the Firebolt lay across his lap as he went over it with meticulous care.

That's it, she thought. I can't keep doing this. All you can do is ask him, then do your best to convince him.

With that thought in mind she made her way over to sit beside him on the sofa, doing her best to keep the pain she felt from her face, but when he turned to smile at her, she could tell he'd noticed as his expression shifted quickly into a concerned frown.

Before he could say anything she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering so she could whisper in his ear, "Can you please meet me in our room, Sir?"

When she pulled back he was eyeing her curiously, and took a few moments to study her face before he nodded his head. A quick glance to the broom and then to his watch and he looked back at her.

"Twenty minutes," he said.

She nodded, her heart rate picking up its beat as she considered just what she would be asking for. Leaning in to kiss him again, she stood and casually walked out of the Tower.

As soon as she was out in the hall she started hurrying her way along, moving as fast as she could and still be considered walking, until she reached the first floor and made her way to their room. Sealing the door behind her with a twist on the locking charm keyed so that only she and Harry could removed it without some exceptional power or skill, she went about preparing the area; a new element Harry had added to her duties in their last session.

She moved several of the desks and chairs, clearing a larger space in the center of the room and set the chair from behind the Professor's desk in place at the front of the room. Moving five feet in front of it she cast the cushioning charm at the stone floor and carefully sank down to her knees, arranging herself into her pose and settled in to wait for her Sir to arrive.

Her stomach rolled and her heart fluttered as she waited. Merlin's pants, what was she doing? This had to be one of the most insane things she'd ever even contemplated, and that was saying something considering some of what had passed through her mind in the last few weeks.

Before her thoughts could spiral around anymore, she heard the seal being removed from the door and snapped more completely into her pose, her back going ramrod straight and her eyes directing themselves to the floor in front of her as she heard the door open and then swing closed again. A moment later it was sealed again and quiet footsteps moved across the room until she sensed, more than heard, Harry settling into his chair.

"Look at me, Mine," he said a few moments later in a steady voice and she slowly lifted her head to meet his gaze. His eyes studied hers for several long moments before he nodded to himself and leaned back in his seat.

"All right," he said. "Out with it. I've been noticing for a while these moments when you seemed like you were upset. The first time was in the Library after I told you and Ron about my plans for class. I didn't question you on it then because I wasn't certain if you'd appreciate it, or think I was being nosy and should butt out. I've asked several times since then and you've always brushed me off. This is the first time that you've brought it in here. So out with it, Mine. I'm ordering you to tell me what it is that's bothering you.

Dammit. She'd hoped he wouldn't have connected the two, but at the same time, that was almost exactly why she'd asked him here. She took a deep steadying breath before she spoke as clearly and calmly as she could.

"Sir, I would like to request that you punish me for the pain I've caused you."

#####

Harry's mouth dropped open, completely unable to hide the shock that he'd just experienced. Hermione was actually requesting punishment? Even knowing how much he still had issue with that concept? Wait, what pain has she caused me? he thought, utterly bewildered by the sudden request.

"What?" he finally asked, expressing rather eloquently the degree to which he didn't understand her request. "What are you talking about? What do you think you've done, Mine?"

She took a deep breath, the action pushing her breasts out even further, but he was far too distracted to notice.

"I've been feeling… guilty," she admitted. "The… the situation with the Firebolt. I… I can't apologize for doing what I did. I was worried about you, Sir, and I didn't want to see you get hurt. But going behind your back like I did. Since you explained how badly that hurt you I just… I can't shake how bad I feel over the whole situation."

Her voice broke several times during her brief recitation, and he could easily see just how upset the whole thing was making her, but a little voice in the back of his head simply screamed at him that this was wrong. This was not how things were supposed to work.

"I've been reading over the sub letters again, and many of them comment how being punished for something they did wrong helps them to let go of the guilt they feel for their mistakes. How it… absolves them of whatever they've done wrong. The pain helps to wash away their guilt and find some peace."

"Pain…" he whispered, trailing off into an almost horrified silence.

"I understand, Sir. I understand that from what we have to go on, physical punishment is recommended as a last resort I just… I feel like that's what I need to shake this feeling." Tears brimmed in her eyes and a few spilled over, dripping down her cheeks but she made no motion to wipe them away, holding her pose. "I want a punishment, so I can move on from this. Please, Sir."

Harry's mouth worked silently for several moments, his jaw moving up and down a number of times before snapping shut with an audible click, his face shifted from dumbfounded shock to something new. Something he'd never really felt directed at his Hermione before.

Anger.

Yes, he'd been upset over the incident with the broom. He'd been hurt. But he'd never truly been angry with her before. Slowly, he stood, fists clenched at his side until he'd reached his full height, and he glared down at her.

"No," he growled and she started, looking up at him in surprise.

"What? But... Sir?"

"No!" he snapped again, swiping one hand angrily through the air in front of him, as if attempting to brush aside whatever she wanted to say. "No. This… this is wrong," he snarled. "This isn't how things are supposed to work, Hermione."

"You said you'd help me with what I needed," she shot back, half rising from her knees for a moment before she sank back down, lowering her eyes to the floor again. "I need this, Sir. I need to… to let go of this guilt and this pain. I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, and I feel terrible about it."

"I don't care! I already forgave you for the broom, Hermione. I don't care about that. And that was before we were even dating much less," he gestured wildly to take in the room around them, "much less this."

"I am allowed to make requests," she argued, her voice taking on an angry tone.

"And I reserve the right to allow them or not!" he practically roared. "Am I the Dom here or not, Hermione?"

"Of course you are-"

"Really?" He interrupted her, "Because from here it looks like you're the one trying to control the situation and dictate how things should be. That's not your place in here!"

He glared at her for several long moments, a dozen different things he could say to her flitted past his mind but none made it to his lips.

"I can't do this," he finally said. "Not right now. I need to… I…."

The words wouldn't come so he finally just turned and strode for the door, removing the seal as he went. Yanking the door open, he left their room and slammed it closed again behind him.

#####

Some hours later, Harry found himself stalking his way around the edge of the Black Lake, furiously muttering under his breath.

"Dammit… she knows how much I still don't like this whole idea. And wanting to keep things separate was her idea! Why would she try and pull this kind of crap?"

Stooping down, he picked up a rock about the size of his fist and hurled it as hard as he could, completely ignoring how the projectile vanished beneath the placid surface of the water with a small splash, sending ripples stretching outward. Continuing his walk for a few more minutes, he came across a large boulder sticking up from the ground at the water's edge and clambered up onto it, taking a seat at the top.

With his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his shins, he stared out over the glassy surface of the lake, doing his utmost to calm himself and think.

"Okay," he muttered. "You're not stupid, Potter, so figure this out. What the hell is going on with her and how are you going to handle this?"

If they were still continuing with this planned dynamic after his reaction earlier… obviously something needed to be done. Either the dynamic needed to change, or they needed to establish some better rules. Was there anything else he could do? There had to be something he was missing, aside from whatever had possessed Hermione to think that her request was a good idea in any way.

Frustrated, he reached into his robes and pulled out the first book she'd given him, 'The Philosophy of Dominance and Submission'. Before coming out onto the grounds he'd stopped by the tower and grabbed it from his trunk, hoping to find something to help direct him on how to deal with his current situation.

After skimming through the table of contents, nothing specific had popped out at him and he found that he just wasn't sure how to proceed. He started flipping through the book idly, hoping that something would catch his attention. Toward the back of the book he found a couple of pieces of stationary, carefully folded in half and tucked between the pages and he gave them a confused look for a moment before pulling them out. Stretching his legs out, he set the volume on his lap before he unfolded the papers and flattened them against the book and started reading.

"'Communication will be key. Neither of you can be afraid to speak your minds. Talk honestly and often. Do not let anything fester.'," he read thoughtfully. His eyes darted down to the name at the bottom of the last page. "Amelia Markell," he read. "Obviously the lady that gave her the books in the first place."

He hummed quietly to himself for a few minutes, his mind spinning in circles as he tried to look at every angle of the situation, choosing to see it as a puzzle. Puzzles could be solved. Puzzles could be broken down and approached in small steps until one found the answer. This… relationships and dynamics… they were far more complicated than anything he'd encountered before and he honestly counted himself lucky that he appeared to have kept his head above water thus far.

"Well, one immediate problem is we're obviously not talking enough," he mused, leaning back on his elbows with the letter clutched in one hand, his gaze directed out over the lake again. "If she'd told me this issue was bothering her, we might have been able to do something about it instead of her trying to force this into a session that way."

A minute later he let out a self deprecating snort. "You really don't have a lot of room to talk, Potter. You still haven't been completely upfront with her over your concerns. That's something that'll have to change as well."

He sighed, letting his body fall back so he was staring up at the sky, continuing to work through the problem as best he could.

"Communication is key, and we haven't been communicating. Issue number one right there. Second… honestly I'm the biggest next problem. I still don't like this punishment idea. I just don't get it." His eyes shot open and he suddenly sat up on the rock. "Fuck!" he blurted out. "Dammit, dammit, dammit. If we can fix this and keep going… dammit she broke the rules with that stunt. I pretty much have to punish her for that."

With his entire body drawn taut with tension, he sat there wondering just when his life had gotten so much more complicated. If he punished her, she was basically getting what she'd wanted in the first place, wasn't she? That would sort of defeat the purpose of his refusing to punish her before. Unless… unless he made it very clear why, which really, he needed to do anyway. There could be no ambiguity or doubt over why a punishment was given, that had been made very clear in what he'd read. So he has to make sure she knows what he is not punishing her for as well.

There was still the issue he had with even the thought of actually doing something like that to Hermione. Could he change the punishment? She'd specifically asked for a physical punishment, so what if he changed it to something else? Of course, what else would make a strong enough statement that could be contained within the timeframe of one of their sessions? The whole problem here was her trying to bring in something that'd happened outside the dynamic when she'd been the most insistent from the beginning on keeping the two separate.

Something physical seemed like the… the most appropriate response given the circumstances. But most of what he'd come across he would never even attempt without some way to practice or to make sure he wouldn't accidentally hurt her more than intended.

He suddenly barked out a nervous laugh.

Am I actually thinking about practicing so that I don't end up hurtingmy girlfriend more than I intend to? As if that isn't a completely fucked up thought to even have.

After another twenty minutes or so trying to work out the angles, he realized that he needed more information than the single volume in his hand could provide. Climbing off the rock after putting away both the letter and book he started off for the castle, his attention fixed on a single goal, and by the time he reached the Tower he was panting and sweating from his hurried passage through the castle and up the many stairs that had been between him and his destination.

Giving the password to the Fat Lady, and carefully ignoring the security trolls that stood at either end of the hall, he waited for her portrait to swing open before stepping into the Common Room, his eyes sweeping across the room in search of a particular head of bushy brown hair. Spotting her was as easy as trying to find a Weasley, and he almost immediately located her across the room at one of the study tables in a far corner, her head bowed over a scroll of parchment.

As he started toward her though, two pairs of hands suddenly clamped down on him, one set on each arm, and he found himself being lifted bodily off the ground.

"Oh Seeker, our Seeker-"

"-come, join us for a little-"

"-discussion amongst friends."

Harry was more than a little flummoxed, struggling against the firm grip the Weasley twins had on him, but escape proved to be nearly impossible as they carted him over to the opposite side of the room and dropped him into a chair. Before he could attempt to stand, they each dropped into a seat on either side of him, leaning a forearm on his shoulders to hold him in place, their expressions unusually serious.

"Guys, you want to let go of me... right now," Harry bit out in as calm a tone as he could manage. He did not like people touching him, and if they wanted to talk, as was so clearly evident, they could do so calmly and without trying to hold him prisoner.

"Nothing doing, Harrykins," Twin one intoned in a solemn voice.

"We've got a bit of a bone to pick with you."

"You can pick it without holding me down," he snapped, anxiety rising in his chest with every passing second. "I don't like being touched so just… let go of me!"

Both twins leaned away from him at his sudden outburst and he leaped to his feet. Turning he grabbed the chair they'd dropped him into and moved it a few feet away and then dropped down to straddle the chair, facing the twins with a space of a few feet in between them, his arms folded across the chair back.

"There," he said, his breathing coming a little fast. "Now we can talk, but make it fast, I really need to talk to Hermione."

Fred and George exchanged a look, communicating in that silent way that only twins are truly capable of, before they turned their attention back to him.

"Sorry, Harry," one of them said, honest regret in his voice.

"We didn't realize."

"I don't like to talk about it. Just spit out what you need guys, please," he said, adding the last word in an attempt to not appear too upset with them. Aside from everything else, he did consider the twins friends, or at least friendly. They were good guys, if a little too fond of trouble for his tastes but they didn't appear to have a truly malicious bone in their bodies.

"It's about the-

"-beautiful Miss Granger-"

"-that we wanted to-"

"-talk to you."

"Without the back and forth guys. I've had a rough enough day already, I don't need to be dizzy on top of it."

"Fine, Harry. Direct and to the point. You're our Seeker. We'd like to think you're a friend and an honorary Weasley. You saved our little sister's life and we owe you beyond measure. But don't think we won't prank you to within an inch of your life if you don't fix whatever you bolloxed up," Twin one explained before his brother took up their story.

"As big of a stickler for the rules as she can be, we actually likeHermione. She's a nice girl, and we don't want to see anyone hurting her, not even you. Understand us, Harry?"

For a few moments Harry could only gape at them in astonishment before he was able to shake himself back to reality.

"What makes you so certain I did something wrong?" he asked, his eyes narrowing at them. "I'm not saying I'm entirely innocent, but you can't just assume that I'm the only guilty party. Hermione actually came to me with something that I disagreed with. Something that upset and bothered me. Honestly, I'll admit that I didn't handle it well. I stormed off instead of talking to her about it. I want to try to talk to her, but right now we're both probably not in a very good place to be holding a conversation, so I just wanted to go sit with her for a bit and let her know we can work it out when we're both a little calmer… I also needed to borrow a couple of books from her, if she'll let me."

Both redheads studied him carefully for several moments, judging his honesty before they nodded in perfect, but opposite unison. When one was tilting his head up the other was tilting down and they swapped back and forth for exactly four nods before they stopped. Seriously, do they practice those things? That's way too perfect to just be off the cuff, Harry thought, slightly dizzied by the display.

"Good to hear, Harry. We really didn't want to prank you into the Hospital Wing."

Standing, the two of them made to clap him on the shoulders before they suddenly hesitated and Harry shot them a rueful smile.

"It's okay, guys. Go ahead."

Grinning, they did so, each one picking one of his shoulders for a friendly pat before they started to walk away.

"Hey guys?" he asked before they got more than a few steps, causing them to turn, each arching the opposite brow quizzically in his direction.

"Thanks," he said. "For looking out for her. It… it makes me feel better to know that she's got a few extra eyes keeping her safe around here."

"Pride o' lions, Harrykins."

"We might not always get it right, but we try to take care of our own."

When the twins headed off to cause who knew what kind of chaos, Harry remained in his chair for a few minutes, just trying to relax his stiff muscles and calm himself before he faced Hermione.

Finally he stood and made his way over to the table where Hermione had sequestered herself. Her books were piled around her, like a series of short walls cutting her off from the rest of the room leaving only a small gap directly across from her. Not that she would have seen as she kept her head over her parchment the whole time, her quill scratching away. As he sat quietly across from her he could hear her occasionally sniffling.

"Hermione?" he asked as gently as he could but the girl still jerked in her seat, her head snapping up for her reddened cinnamon colored eyes to fix on his.

"Harry? Harry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Harry held up one hand to cut her off before she really got going then leaned forward, reaching for her hand across the table.

"I'm not saying yes to anything, Hermione," he said after she'd taken his hand in her own, "but I'd like to look over the books again… if it's okay with you, could I borrow them, please?"

He had to make it very clear to her that this wasn't him asking as her Dom, if he even was that still. He had no idea how she'd taken his leaving their room earlier other than the evidence of her crying. For all he knew she wanted nothing more to do with him, as he fought the urge to fidget as he waited for her response.

She nodded slowly, a cautiously hopeful expression on her face, and she gave his hand a squeeze before she let go and stood.

"Let me… let me just go and get them," she whispered. He nodded, giving her a small smile as she turned to go.

As she ran up the stairs to the girl's dorm Harry leaned back in his chair and let out a shaky sigh. "Okay, that was encouraging," he murmured to himself. "She didn't tell you to get lost, or go jump in the lake, or something." He glanced over toward the stairs. "Of course, she could just be plotting to use her own brand of spell work to really show you how big a dick you've been to her-"

He cut off when he suddenly saw her bushy brown mane bobbing its way toward him over the crowd of students between him and the stairs before the rest of her came into view, the three books clutched almost desperately in her arms. When she reached, him he quickly stood to relieve her of the books. Glancing through them to see that they were the same ones he was familiar with, and he shot her another soft smile.

"Thank you," he told her.

"Harry, I really am so-"

"No, Hermione. We'll talk about it tomorrow when we're both calmer and I've had a chance to contemplate what I plan to read tonight, okay?"

A choked sob burst out of her and she suddenly threw herself at him, causing him to stagger back as he attempted to brace her and not drop the books he was holding. One arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closely against him as both of hers circled his neck, her face pressed into his shoulder.

"I promise, we'll talk tomorrow," he murmured quietly against her ear.

A few minutes later she was disentangling herself from him and stepping back, nodding her head repeatedly. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay, we'll talk then. Just… just let me know, okay?"

He hesitated for a moment before he leaned toward her and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips for just a few seconds, before he pulled back and headed off to go up to his dorm. He had a significant amount of reading to do.

#####

As it turned out, there wasn't quite as much reading needed as Harry originally suspected. It was the letters from the submissives that Hermione had specifically mentioned reading when coming to the decision that a painful punishment would somehow help relieve her guilt, so that was the first place that he checked. Of course, he still skimmed through much of the rest of the books, just in case.

"Dammit," he growled, tossing the book in his hands onto the other three piled on his bed nearly an hour and a half after leaving Hermione down in the Common Room. "I'm honestly not sure whether to be happy that what they're talking about makes sense, or pissed that what they're talking about makes sense," he muttered, letting out a gusty sigh.

He'd hoped that he would have been able to find something to refute her argument for this punishment, even though he knew he had to do something if they were going to continue. He winced a moment later as he considered the fact that the first time he'd done the reading he'd skipped over most of the sub letters, preferring to stick to the more factual seeming information within the book as opposed to anecdotal evidence from people with similar mindsets to Hermione's. He wanted a view from the other side of the equation, but most of what he'd found only talked about rewards and punishments in terms of reinforcing wanted behavior, or discouraging unwanted behavior.

Unfortunately, that wasn't going to be an option within the next few hours, so he was on his own. He needed to talk to a Dom… or maybe someone else that's super submissive. He sat against the headboard of his bed, arms crossed over his chest and staring off into space, not really seeing the closed curtains that surrounded him for some time. Slowly, his eyes widened, as an odd idea formed in his head.

He sat up straight in his bed and called out, "Dobby?"

A moment later there was an ear- splitting crack and Dobby appeared standing on the comforter in front of him, bouncing excitedly from one socked foot to the other. "The Great Harry Potter, Sir calls for Dobby again!" the little elf squeaked out. "How cans Dobby be helping Harry Potter, Sir?"

Harry made several shushing sounds and scrambled for his wand, casting several quick silencing charms at the bed curtains to hopefully contain the little guy's excited squeaking.

"Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter, Sir," Dobby mumbled, his ears drooping even as he hung his head, shamefully; grabbing one of the books on Harry's bed to beat against his head.

"That's okay, Dobby," Harry assured him, quickly pulling the book to safety. "I should have remembered the charms before calling you."

Dobby appeared to perk up a bit at that; his posture straightening a bit. "How cans Dobby be helping the Great Harry Potter, Sir?" he squeaked out again and Harry leaned back against his headboard, after moving the remaining books out of Dobby's reach.

"Umm… I was actually hoping that I could just talk to you for a bit?" Harry asked, his mind spinning as he tried to figure out just what he could say to Dobby.

With a confused look on his face Dobby still nodded, his large ears flapping back and forth with the rapid motion of his head.

"Why do you punish yourself that way?" Harry asked, gesturing to the book that he'd pulled from the elf's hands.

"If Dobby be bads, Dobby must punish hisself."

"But why?" Harry asked, frustration entering his voice.

"Dobby not understand, Harry Potter, Sir," Dobby squeaked out, his eyes shifting back and forth rapidly as if looking for something he could use to hit himself with.

"Dobby!" Harry barked and the little elf jumped to attention, his arms snapping to his sides as he stood up, ramrod straight. "I'm trying to talk to you, Dobs, and I can't do that if you're looking for something to pummel yourself with, understand?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, Sir. Dobby understands."

Harry paused, studying the little elf critically for a moment before he let out a groan as he realized what he'd just done.

"Well… shite," he muttered, rubbing furiously at his forehead for a moment in frustration. "Dobby… Okay. Dobby, sit down," he said, keeping his voice calm but making it clear that this was not a request. To his slight surprise, Dobby sat, crossing his legs under him on the bed with his long fingered hands resting in his lap.

"Dobby, I really need you to tell me why you punish yourself when you think you've done something wrong?"

"Because Dobby musts," he squeaked out and Harry groaned again.

"Dammit Dobs, that doesn't actually tell me anything," he mumbled to himself. Without looking toward the elf, Harry spoke up, "do notpunish yourself Dobby," he said and a moment later he heard something thump onto the mattress nearby and held out his right hand. "Give it." When one of his school texts was placed in his hand Harry sighed and set the book aside.

Harry's frown deepened and he turned his attention back to Dobby who was looking a little nervous but otherwise holding almost unnaturally still, his bulbous green eyes fixed on Harry.

"Dobby… is it just you or do all elves punish themselves if they think they've done something wrong?"

"Dobby is house elf… house elves is house elves," Dobby squeaked.

"But why? Especially over something minor? If it's something small then bashing yourself over the head with something heavy doesn't make any sense."

Dobby shrugged his slender shoulders and Harry groaned again.

"Cans… cans Dobby be asking a question of the Great Harry Potter, Sir?" Dobby hesitantly asked a few minutes later.

"Sure, Dobby. In fact, you can always ask me a question if you don't understand something… at least if you won't be interrupting me while I'm doing anything, okay?"

Dobby nodded rapidly again, his ears almost slapping him in the face.

"Is the Great Harry Potter, Sir, trying to decide how to punish his Missy Miney?"

"Not so much how but why," Harry bit out without thinking. A moment later he jerked up in his spot, his eyes swiveling over to Dobby. "Wait… what?" he asked sharply.

"House Elves be hearing things," Dobby admitted, tugging on his ears with both hands. "Dobby did not wish to upset the Great Harry Potter, Sir."

"I'm not upset, Dobby. Stop tugging on your ears, it's okay, really." Harry reached forward and gently pried Dobby's hands from his ears. "I'm not upset," he repeated. "I was just surprised."

"Why does the Great Harry Potter, Sir not understand why?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" Harry asked. "And can you please call me something a little shorter? That's quite a mouthful you're using right now. Just Harry is fine, Dobs."

Dobby squirmed uncomfortably in his spot on the bed but nodded a few times, his tiny brow deeply furrowed.

"Harry Potter, Sir says he is not knowing why to punish his Missy Miney. Why is he not knowing why?"

Harry considered that carefully for a few minutes before he let out another long sigh.

"Make yourself comfortable, Dobby," he said. "I think we're going to be here for a while."

#####

Despite the promise he'd made, the next day was a particularly painful one for Hermione, as the time wore on but she didn't seem to get a single opportunity to talk to Harry alone, and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to get her alone to discuss their situation. Added to that frustration was something she'd largely thought herself above, once she was old enough to understand the concept.

Valentine's Day.

She hadn't honestly been expecting much. She hadn't expected anything before, but she had a boyfriend now, and for the first time in her life, she honestly felt that Harry might have at least acknowledged the day; but by the time they were heading down to the Great Hall for lunch, he hadn't said a single word about it.

She wasn't sure if that was just Harry being a boy and not quite understanding what the day could mean for his girlfriend, or if it was a result of their implosion from the day before. As it was, they'd spent the entire day together, for the classes they had together at least, and he wasn't acting as if anything unusual was going on. Something that drove her to no end of distraction while attempting to puzzle out his behavior.

Sitting down at one end of the Gryffindor table she pulled her Arithmancy text from her bag, propped it up in front of her plate and set about eating her fill, her eyes scanning across the pages as she carefully worked her way through her food.

She was nearly half way through her plate when a sudden hush fell over the Hall, catching her attention and causing her to look up from her book. A vast majority of the students at each table had turned away from their usual meal time conversations and were looking up toward the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling, curious expressions etched on their faces and, without thinking, Hermione followed the direction of their gaze to see a single white owl swooping around the rafters.

"Hedwig?" she muttered, staring up at her boyfriend's familiar for a moment before she turned to her right to ask him what was going on, only to find the bench beside her was empty.

"Where'd Harry go?" she asked, looking over her book and across the table at Ron.

He shrugged, his mouth stuffed full of food but thankfully didn't attempt to answer her.

"He said he had somewhere to be about ten minutes ago," Neville offered from where he was sitting on Ron's left and Ron nodded rapidly several times just as Hedwig came swooping down and landed on the table where Harry had been sitting.

"Hey, Hedwig," she greeted the beautiful owl. "What're you doing here?"

Hedwig barked at her, large golden eyes regarding her for a moment before she turned her body slightly and extended one talon toward her to show the small package that was tied to her leg.

Hermione bit back the nearly instinctive desire to ask, 'is that for me?', since Hedwig was far too smart to ever deliver something to the wrong person and instead she simply set about freeing the owl of her burden. Before taking off, Hedwig nipped gently at her fingers a few times and then threw herself into the air, her large wings quickly carrying her away from the table and Hermione was left staring at the small package.

Setting it down she cast a quick Finite at it, just in case, and was rewarded with the box nearly doubling in size. Burning with curiosity now, she didn't even notice the many eyes that were fixed on her as she opened the box and reached in to gently remove a single, perfect red rose and a beautiful silk ribbon the exact color of Harry's eyes. She couldn't help the delighted smile that spread across her lips and she briefly looked around again, hoping for some hint of her wayward boyfriend, but he was nowhere in sight.

As the sounds of conversation began to pick up again around her, she looked in the box again to find a small piece of parchment neatly folded at the bottom. Quickly pulling it out, she read:

Mine,

A friend told me of a better room to use up on the seventh floor... directly across from the painting of Barnabus the Barmy teaching trolls ballet... go there as soon as you finish lunch. We'll find the time we need for our discussion afterwards.

- Sir

For a few moments, Hermione was struck by a sudden case of indecision. She wanted to immediately pack up her book and gifts so she could head straight for this room Harry's note mentioned. But at the same time, his note had specifically said for her to go when she finished lunch, which she hadn't yet done.

Deciding quickly, she packed away her book and carefully placed the rose down on top of her bag before she used the ribbon to tie her hair back, and then set to finishing her meal as fast as she could without looking like she was trying to beat out Ron for worst table manners. By the time she was starting to feel full she considered herself done, even if a quarter of her food still remained on her plate, so she snatched up her rose and bag, practically fleeing from the Great Hall to make her way up to the seventh floor.

After a bit of searching, she located the tapestry, but she didn't remember there being a room located across from it before, however when she arrived there was very clearly a dark wooden door set into the wall directly across from the tapestry.

"I'm positive that this wasn't here before," she muttered, giving the door a puzzled examination as she approached and slowly reached out to turn the handle, her heart pounding in her chest. The door opened smoothly and she stepped through into…. She blinked, looking around curiously at what appeared to be a rather comfortably appointed sitting room. A deep plush carpet covered the floor beneath her feet and the stone walls were a dark grey. Directly opposite the door where two large overstuffed arm chairs set facing each other in front of a large fireplace where a cheerfully crackling blaze burned.

"Come on in, Hermione," Harry said, standing up from one of the chairs to beckon her further into the room. She moved forward as if in a daze, her eyes moving constantly, trying to take in every detail of the room.

"I don't understand," she suddenly said, causing Harry to chuckle. "Where did this room come from? I'm positive that there wasn't anything here the last time I came by this way."

"There's a bit of an explanation behind that," Harry admitted, grinning broadly at her. "But I think that can wait for later. Right now I believe we have a few more important things to discuss, don't you?"

With that reminder, Hermione brought herself back to the matter at hand and nodded, moving over to pull him into a hug before taking a seat in one of the chairs, her bag resting on the floor beside her, but she kept the rose clutched gently in her hands.

"This is beautiful, Harry, thank you. And for the ribbon too." she said, reaching up to brush her hand across it.

"I like how you decided to put it to use," he offered, smiling almost shyly at her. She felt the sense of hope that'd been built up by the note with her gifts lift just a little bit more. He didn't seem angry with her. And his note had called her 'Mine'. So, hopefully, he didn't want to stop what they were doing either.

"So, why are we here… Harry?" She said his name hesitantly, not entirely sure if she shouldn't be calling him 'Sir' but he had used hername first so…

He nodded and shifted a bit in his seat before he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

"We have a few things we need to discuss, Hermione," he said. "More specifically, I have a few questions I want to ask you and I need you… I really need you to be one-hundred percent honest with me. But I'm not asking as your Dom. I'm not asking as your boyfriend. I'm asking you as Harry Potter, your friend, and someone who cares about you a great deal…. Do you think you can do that?"

Her head nodded up and down rapidly. "I promise, Harry."

"Okay," he breathed out before sitting back in his seat again. "Are we still together? As in, are we still a couple? Or did I completely screw up everything that was good in my life when I walked out of that room yesterday?"

Tears almost immediately sprang into her eyes, and Hermione had to take a moment to gather herself before she could respond. "Of course we're still together. I never considered that we might have broken up."

Harry's sigh of relief was practically a palpable presence in and of itself, as his body seemed to deflate and for a moment, she caught a glimpse of the insecurity that he kept so well hidden from everyone.

"I'm really, really glad to hear that," he eventually muttered. "I was really worried I'd done something that I wouldn't be able to fix."

"I'm the one that scr-"

"No," he cut her off. "We each made our own mistakes, but instead of staying and trying to talk, I ran off. I shouldn't have done that, I know that. But that kind of brings us to my next question. Is this dynamic still something you want?"

There she hesitated for a moment, chewing absently at her lower lip. "I do," she finally admitted. "But if you don't, I'm willing to drop it if it's just going to cause us problems."

"I didn't ask what you thought I wanted, Hermione," he said, softly. "I asked what you wanted. You still want it. Don't you?"

She hesitated again before reluctantly nodding her head. She'd spent half the night convincing herself that if she needed to, to keep Harry she'd drop the dynamic from their relationship. "I do," she said again. "I'm… I'm willing to drop it, but I can't pretend I don't still want it. I feel like I need it even more at times."

"I'm not at all against the dynamic, Hermione. But I think that we both need to put some more effort into it if we don't want it to cause more problems like it did yesterday. I was looking through that first book you gave me yesterday afternoon and I found the letter that your Librarian wrote to you. Missus Markell, right?" he asked.

"Yes, I've known her since I was four, actually," she said curious as to where he was going with this.

"Well there was a certain couple of lines in there that caught my attention, and I realized that we haven't been following her advice very well... either of us." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of stationary and unfolded it.

"Read this bit out loud, please," he said pointing to a place on the letter as he handed it over to her.

"'Communication will be key. Neither of you can be afraid to speak your minds. Talk honestly and often. Do not let anything fester.'" she read dutifully.

"We haven't been communicating; not well anyway. If you'd talked to me about your concerns, and if I'd talked about mine, we could have avoided all this."

Hermione nodded slowly, mentally cursing herself for forgetting something so utterly basic. She'd even been specifically warned to make sure they talked honestly and openly, and she'd completely forgotten it by being swept up in everything else that had been happening.

"If you want to continue as we were, I think we need to make a concentrated effort to talk to each other, Hermione," Harry muttered, drawing her attention away from the parchment in her hand and back to him. He was leaning forward again, his eyes almost appearing to glow in the light of the fire as he gazed intently at her.

"We can't keep doing this to ourselves. I don't want to lose you, and I'm worried we'll do more damage than we can fix if we can't talk to each other, even about those things that we're not sure of or we find difficult." He blew out a long sigh. "I know I'm going to have a lot of trouble with that, but can I trust you to help me with it? Can I trust you to talk to me before things get so bottled up that you want to explode?"

"Absolutely, Harry," she assured him. "I want this. I want you. I want us to keep moving forward."

"I do, too. I admit I was reluctant about this whole thing, but I didn't want to just abandon you. I know that's not the best motivation, but I really have enjoyed this. We just need to work together a little more, and talk to each other a lot more. I'm finally starting to really understand what's needed, I think. We're not going to be perfect going forward. We're both still going to make mistakes. But I think we can work through them if we just keep talking, keep being honest with each other, and we don't let the mistakes rule us. Right?"

Her smile was actually hurting her cheeks it was so wide, and she couldn't have stopped if she'd tried. She didn't want to try. She was just too happy, too thrilled with everything he was saying to her to even think of wiping away the evidence of the utter joy that filled her.

All she could do was nod her head in response to his question and he stood, holding a hand out to her.

"Come here?" he asked. "I'd like to hug and kiss my girlfriend before we get down to a different conversation."

There could have been a spring in the seat of her chair for how quickly Hermione sprung out of it and into his arms, pressing herself tightly against him as her lips found his. The relief that he wasn't abandoning their relationship, or their dynamic, was overpowering, and she couldn't put enough of herself into that kiss.

Eventually though, their lips parted and she let out a contented sigh, resting her head against his shoulder for several quiet minutes before his hands slip up her arms to her shoulders, gently pushing her away from him, yet smiling at her all the while.

"We still have a lot we need to talk about," he murmured quietly to her. "But we need to get this out of the way first."

As he spoke she witnessed the same shift in his posture and his expression that she'd noted before. The shift from Harry Potter, boyfriend, to Sir, the man that controlled her and owned her in ways she couldn't yet comprehend.

"You're absolutely certain, Mine?" he asked, one last time.

"Absolutely, Sir. Please. I promise you, I want this and want to make it work. I'll do everything I can to be the sub you want," she pleaded.

"All right then." Stepping back he pointed at the ground in front of the fireplace. "Student," he said, and she moved instantly to get into her position, back to the fire and facing his chair, which he turned so it was facing her.

Before he sat in his chair, he came over to her and knelt in front of her. Her eyes widened as he reached out and gently tucked a lock of her hair behind her left ear, that sensation of a punch to the gut striking her again.

"These are because of yesterday," he told her softly as he pulled the lock of hair forward and then tucked it behind her ear a second time. "We both made mistakes, and I will do my very best to make up for mine, but this is for your mistakes." The third time he tucked her hair behind her ear, she became aware that tears were dripping down her cheeks.

"We're going to discuss the mistakes you made, and how to avoid them in the future. Do you understand, Mine?"

"Yes, Sir," she choked out, her chest heaving as she tried to fight back the sobs that wanted to escape her.

"Hey," he whispered, tilting her head up to meet his gaze with one hand cupped under her chin, his grip firm but gentle. Possessive. "We are going to get better, and figure this out. I don't want to hurt you, or upset you, but you need to understand. This is to teach you, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

He smiled, hand still holding her chin and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Good girl," he murmured and she shivered, both at the words and the sensation of his lips moving against her skin.

"Take a moment to calm down. We still have a little bit longer to talk before we need to get moving," he told her as he stood and moved over to his chair, sinking into it and crossing his right leg over his left again.

She nodded, taking several deep breaths, her eyes closed as she pulled herself together. When she finally felt as if she was able to continue, she opened her eyes and looked directly into his.

"I'm ready, Sir."

"Good," he said briskly, "because I have a homework assignment for you, Mine. We are going to have to sit down and talk out this dynamic, perhaps the details need to be adjusted, the rules may need to be reworked so that everything runs smoothly. We'll see. That conversation can wait two days."

A sudden question burned in her mind, but she kept quiet despite the almost overwhelming urge to acquire knowledge. He must have seen something in her face because he nodded to her. "Go ahead," he told her.

"What's in two days, Sir?"

"In two days, I am going to punish you, Mine."

The sentence was delivered with a calm assurance, a sense of inevitability as if there was absolutely no way that she would not be receiving the punishment that he had planned for her, and her breath caught in her throat in anticipation.

He was actually going to punish her like she'd asked? But yesterday he'd been so set against the idea. What had changed?

"That is actually where your homework assignment comes in. You see, Mine. I will not be punishing you because of what you did by going to Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. I will neverpunish you for that. It hurt, but I have forgiven you. You will need to find a way to forgive yourself. No, your punishment is in regard to something else that you did yesterday, and that is your assignment. When I meet you in this room on Wednesday, you will give me a full accounting of what you did wrong, as best as you can recall.

"Those actions, that's what you are going to be punished for. We will discuss them. We will make sure that you understand precisely how you earned your punishment before it is carried out. And don't forget, there will be no punishment that you don't agree to. If you don't feel you can, honestly, tell me, and we'll figure out something else. Do you understand."

Hermione bowed her head, meekly squeaking out a quiet, "Yes, Sir."

"Wednesday afternoon, after your last class, you will come directly here and you will get into position. You will wear the outfit that Hedwig delivered to you earlier at lunch. Do you understand?" he asked.

Hermione frowned, thinking over the package that had been attached to Hedwig's leg. Had she missed something? Had there been another package that she didn't see? No, Hedwig wouldn't have left without making sure all her burdens had been removed.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Sir, I don't understand."

"What was unclear?"

"The… outfit that you mentioned. The only items in the package were the rose and this gorgeous ribbon." For a moment she almost lifted one hand to touch the ribbon but she managed to stop herself and he smiled at her, obviously pleased with her actions.

"That's right," he said, only serving to confuse her more.

"Wha… Sir, I'm sorry, I still don't understand."

"Take the ribbon out of your hair, Mine," he told her and she quickly obeyed, handing the ribbon over when he held his hand out to her. As soon as the ribbon was in his possession, she immediately placed her hands behind her back again and watched as he held the ribbon up in front of her.

"This is the outfit I wish for you to wear," he told her. Her eyes widening as she began to understand his meaning. "When you arrive here in two days, you will remove your clothes, all of them. You will place this ribbon around your neck, and then assume the Student position and wait for me until I arrive. Do you understand?"

Naked! He wanted her kneeling, completely naked, with only that ribbon around her neck for her punishment, for the entire session! Her pulse pounded in her ears and she knew instantly when her cheeks bloomed into a furious blush at his words.

He waited calmly, watching her carefully for any reaction, she assumed and in the end, there was really only one thing she could possibly say.

"Yes, Sir."