Chapter 25: Ban
Chapter Text
Tomorrow was Hermione's birthday.
Harry had already prepared everything meticulously. A cake enchanted with a stasis charm lay securely in his trunk, waiting to be unveiled at just the right moment. He had also chosen a pair of delicate earrings, ones he was sure Hermione would love. They were simple but significant—dragon fang earrings crafted from the very creature that Hermione had slain last year. It felt right that she would wear something that symbolized her first kill. The only problem was, for the last few days, Hermione had been in an inexplicably bad mood. He couldn't quite figure out what had caused it, and it was frustrating. She hadn't seemed angry at him specifically, but there was a tension between them he couldn't shake.
Still, he wasn't one to back down from a challenge, especially when it involved Hermione. So, determined to push his luck, Harry decided on a daring plan. He would sneak into the girls' dormitory at midnight to leave her gift, along with a handwritten letter inviting her for a quiet celebration under their beech tree. The same spot where, a year ago, they had shared her last birthday, just the two of them.
Navigating the staircase to the girls' dorm was tricky business. He'd learned early in their first year that the staircase would turn into a slide if a boy tried to climb it. But Harry had an advantage most didn't—his broom. He floated silently up the stairwell, his heart racing beneath the Invisibility Cloak as he neared the top. The weight of the enchanted fabric pressing down on him only heightened the sense of stealth and excitement. This was a risk, but the kind of risk that made him feel alive.
When he reached the dormitory, Harry crept slowly, careful not to make a sound. The room was dimly lit by the moon filtering through the curtains, casting a soft silver glow over everything. Based on the stories Hermione had shared with him, her bed was the one closest to the window, overlooking the grounds. Quietly, he approached it, gently pulling aside the curtains.
His breath caught in his throat when he saw her. Hermione, fast asleep, was wrapped in his old Quidditch jersey. It was oversized on her, the fabric draping loosely over her frame. The sight of it brought a rush of warmth to his chest. He hadn't even realized she had it. A pang of guilt hit him as he remembered asking Dobby about the missing jersey, and the elf's hesitant replies suddenly made sense. She had kept it all this time. It made Harry's heart flutter in ways he hadn't expected.
Hermione's face was peaceful in sleep, her usual frown gone, replaced by the soft relaxation of dreaming. For a moment, Harry hesitated. Should he really be here? But he had come this far. Slowly, he set down the small box containing her gift on her bedside table and placed the letter beside it, the invitation to their special spot. Just as he was about to step away, he heard a soft voice.
"H-Harry?"
His stomach twisted, and he froze. Hermione's voice, groggy with sleep, startled him. He turned to see her sitting up slightly, rubbing her eyes. She blinked at him in confusion, still caught between sleep and wakefulness.
"Hey," Harry whispered, offering a small smile. "Happy birthday, Hermione."
Her eyes widened in surprise, darting around the room as if trying to understand what was happening. "Is it morning already?"
Harry chuckled softly, stepping closer to her bed. "It's midnight. I wanted to surprise you."
She blinked again, this time more awake. "H-How did you even get up here?"
He grinned, feeling a bit smug. "I used my broom. The stairs aren't much of a problem when you can fly."
Hermione gave him a small, sleepy smile. "Of course you did."
Without thinking, Harry sat down on the edge of her bed, his eyes drifting to how oversized the Quidditch jersey looked on her. It swamped her small frame, the sleeves almost covering her hands. She looked adorable in it, and the sight stirred something protective and fond inside him.
"Do you want to see your gift?" Harry asked, eager to change the subject and distract himself from how cute she looked.
Hermione nodded, her curiosity now piqued as she sat up straighter. Harry reached for the small box on the table and opened it, revealing the dragon fang earrings glistening in the dim light. Hermione stared at them, her mouth slightly parted in surprise.
"These are dragon fang earrings," Harry said, his voice soft but filled with meaning. "From… that dragon. I had them fixed into these for you."
For a moment, Hermione didn't say anything. She reached out and gently touched the earrings, her fingers lightly brushing over them as if testing their reality.
"Sorry, I thought since you were the one who killed the dragon, it should be yours to decide what to do with the fangs," Harry added quickly, feeling a rush of nerves. "If you don't like them, I can—"
"I love them," Hermione interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with emotion. "Can I wear them now?"
Relief washed over Harry as he smiled. "Of course."
Carefully, he took the earrings from the box and leaned closer, helping her put them on. As his fingers brushed against her skin, Hermione tensed ever so slightly, but she didn't pull away. There was something intimate about the moment, the quiet closeness of it all.
"How do they look?" Hermione asked, her voice a bit shy.
"Perfect," Harry murmured, smiling as he cupped her cheek gently and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Just like you."
Hermione blushed, the pink in her cheeks contrasting with the moonlight filtering through the window. She nuzzled her face against his hand, a small gesture that made Harry's heart swell.
"You should go back to sleep," Harry said quietly, though he wasn't sure he wanted to leave just yet.
Hermione nodded but didn't let go of his hand. "I have cake tomorrow?" she asked, her voice playful and sleepy.
Harry chuckled softly. "Of course. What kind of birthday would it be without cake?"
Satisfied with that, Hermione lay back down, but she didn't release his hand. Instead, she held onto it tightly, tugging him gently as she shifted beneath the covers.
"Sleep with me, Harry," she whispered, her voice soft but insistent.
Harry hesitated, glancing nervously at the door. "I can't, Hermione. The girls would kill me if they found me here."
Hermione pouted slightly, her fingers curling around his. "It's my birthday. You know the rules."
Harry sighed, unable to resist her. "Okay," he relented, pulling the blanket aside and sliding in beside her. "But only until you fall asleep."
Hermione smiled triumphantly and immediately curled up against him, her head resting on his chest, her body warm and soft against his. Harry wrapped an arm around her, feeling her breathing slow as she drifted back into sleep.
"Good night, Hermione," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room.
"Good night, Harry," she murmured back, her voice sleepy and content.
And with that, they both fell into the comfort of the moment, their world for now reduced to the quiet warmth of shared breaths beneath the stars.
xxxxx
"Harry."
A soft voice broke through the warmth surrounding him, but Harry merely groaned in response, turning over in the bed and burying his face into the pillow. The bed felt too comfortable, too inviting, the warmth of the blankets heavy around him like a cocoon. A faint scent of parchment and a touch of lavender reached his sleepy senses, making it all the more tempting to stay curled up.
"Harry!" the voice insisted, a little sharper this time, accompanied by an impatient poke to his ribs.
Harry groaned again, reluctant to be pulled from the depths of his half-awake state. "Just five more minutes," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow. But the persistent jabbing in his side didn't relent. Finally, he blinked his eyes open, realizing he was not in his own bed, nor in the boys' dormitory.
He sat up suddenly, the fog of sleep clearing as panic set in. His heart skipped a beat when he remembered where he was—Hermione's bed. The dim lighting of the Gryffindor girls' dormitory, muted by thick curtains, made it hard to gauge the time. How long had he been asleep?
"Harry, wake up!" Hermione hissed again, her face inches from his, her expression both anxious and amused.
"Shit," Harry muttered under his breath, running a hand through his tousled hair. The fog of sleep had left him, but in its place was the sharp realization that he was very much in trouble. "What time is it?" he asked, his voice low but urgent as he scanned the room. Hermione was still wearing his oversized Quidditch jersey, looking both adorably flustered and relieved.
"Is anybody else around?" he added, his pulse quickening as he strained to listen for footsteps outside the dorm.
Hermione's brown eyes widened as she shook her head, her curls bouncing slightly. "The rest of the girls are downstairs at breakfast," she said, her voice a soft whisper that matched his urgency. "But Lavender is still in the bathroom."
The mention of Lavender Brown made Harry's stomach drop. Of all the people to potentially get caught by, Lavender was the worst. She had a knack for gossip, and it wouldn't take much for her to make this into a scandal that the entire Hogwarts would hear about by lunch.
Harry paled at the thought. He needed to leave—now.
"I should go," he said quickly, his mind racing. He grabbed the Invisibility Cloak that had been carelessly tossed over the edge of the bed, already preparing to slip it over himself. "Birthday at lunch?" he asked, pausing just long enough to glance at Hermione again, noticing that she was still wrapped in his jersey, her cheeks slightly pink.
Hermione bit her lip, nodding quickly, her nervousness palpable. "Yeah, sure," she whispered, motioning for him to hurry up. "Just go before Lavender comes out!" Her voice had a hushed urgency, though the slight curve of her lips showed she was also suppressing a smile.
Harry couldn't help himself. He leaned in and kissed her cheek gently, letting his lips linger just long enough to feel the warmth of her skin. "Happy birthday, Hermione," he whispered softly against her ear, his voice low, before he pulled back with a teasing grin.
Hermione's breath hitched slightly at the closeness, but before she could respond, Harry was already draping the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders. He gave her a mischievous smirk, half-hidden now under the shimmering fabric.
But then he paused, pulling the edge of the Cloak down slightly so she could still see his face.
"By the way," Harry added with a sly grin, his green eyes glinting with amusement.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What now?" she asked, exasperation mixing with the remnants of her sleepy confusion.
"Nice jersey," he teased, his eyes flicking down to the oversized Quidditch shirt she was still wearing—a shirt that practically swallowed her petite frame, making her look both cute and undeniably endearing. His smirk grew wider as he disappeared fully beneath the Cloak, leaving nothing but the faint shimmer of movement in the air.
Hermione's face flushed a deep shade of pink, her hand instinctively clutching at the hem of the jersey as she realized just how big it was on her—and just how much Harry seemed to enjoy the sight.
The dormitory door creaked softly as it closed behind him, the faintest click signaling that he was gone. The room fell into silence once more.
Hermione stared at the now-empty space where Harry had stood moments before, her mind racing, her heart pounding in her chest. She could still feel the warmth of his kiss on her cheek, the soft brush of his lips lingering in her thoughts. Her hand instinctively reached up to touch the spot, her fingers brushing her skin as if to capture the moment.
It was only when the reality of the situation hit her fully that she let out a small, stifled shriek of embarrassment, burying her face in her hands. "Oh my god," she muttered under her breath, her cheeks burning with a mix of mortification and amusement.
Her heart was still fluttering, a giddy sort of feeling swirling in her chest. Nice jersey. Of all the things Harry could have said… but she had to admit, it was classic Harry—flirty, cheeky, and somehow effortlessly sweet all at once. She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips despite herself.
Slipping out of bed, she padded softly across the floor, feeling the cool air against her skin as the oversized jersey hung loosely around her. She crossed the room, glancing at the neatly placed box of dragon fang earrings and the carefully folded note that Harry had left for her on the desk. The sight of the gift made her heart swell, her fingers tracing the edge of the note absentmindedly.
He had gone through all this trouble, sneaking into the girls' dormitory under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak, just to surprise her. It was reckless and dangerous—and so typically Harry.
The morning sun was starting to filter through the curtains, casting a soft golden light over the room. Hermione felt a warm sense of anticipation build in her chest.
xxxxx
Under the shade of the beech tree, the warm afternoon light danced through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground. The Black Lake rippled gently in the background, its surface shimmering with reflections of the autumn sun. Harry leaned back against the sturdy trunk of the tree, feeling the solid bark pressing into his back. His arms were wrapped loosely around Hermione, who was nestled between his legs, leaning comfortably into his chest. The soft scent of freshly baked chocolate cake lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest and the cool breeze coming off the lake.
Harry took another slow, deliberate bite of his cake, savoring the rich, velvety chocolate on his tongue. "You know," he said casually, his voice a low murmur as he spoke near her ear, "there's a spell that's like an alarm? We should definitely learn that. It'd save us from being caught sneaking around like this."
Hermione, still in the middle of devouring her own slice, nodded in agreement, though she barely glanced up. She seemed entirely content in that moment, wrapped in Harry's warmth, the quiet afternoon stretching lazily around them. The sensation of being so close, their bodies practically molded together, had a comfort to it that neither of them fully acknowledged but both silently cherished. Harry's chest rose and fell gently behind her, a steady rhythm that matched the relaxed beat of the afternoon.
"Also," Harry continued, his tone playful now, "I'm pretty sure Ron and Draco are knee-deep in the Animagus ritual. I could've sworn I smelled Mandrake leaf on Ron yesterday morning. It's unmistakable."
Hermione sighed, shaking her head slightly, though her lips curved into a small smile. "I just hope they don't turn into something massive and ridiculous. I'm not in any rush to do it myself, though. Maybe over the winter holidays or next summer."
Harry chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against Hermione's back. "Just let me know if you start working on it. I'd like to keep an eye on you, you know."
"Relax, Harry," Hermione laughed, the sound light and teasing as she leaned her head back slightly against his shoulder. "I'm not going to mess it up."
"I know, I know," Harry sighed, but the hint of worry in his voice was clear. "It's Ron and Draco I'm worried about. If I try to give them any advice, they'd probably just get all huffy and claim I'm trying to baby them."
A grin tugged at Hermione's lips as she turned the thought over. "What do you think they'll turn into?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"Not a clue," Harry admitted with a laugh. "For me, I always thought I'd turn into a stag, like my dad. His Patronus was a stag, and my mum's was a doe. It's in the family, I guess."
Hermione's mind drifted to Ron and Draco, her gaze softening as she thought. "Ron… I think he'll turn into something that runs. Maybe a dog too or a horse—something fast and dependable." She paused, her smile growing sly. "And Draco? Probably something elegant, something he can preen about."
Harry snorted, trying and failing to contain his laughter. "Like a peacock?"
Hermione burst into giggles at the image. She could just picture Draco's haughty expression transforming into irritation when he realized his Animagus form was something as flamboyant as a peacock. Knowing him, he'd rant for days about the injustice of it all, while secretly loving the attention. The thought of Draco strutting around with dazzling feathers made her laugh even harder.
"And me?" Hermione asked, her laughter dying down as she tilted her head slightly to look up at Harry. "What do you think I'll turn into?"
"A cat," Harry said without missing a beat.
Hermione frowned, looking unimpressed. "A cat? Really?"
"Not just any cat," Harry clarified quickly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "One of those big, majestic ones—what are they called? A main cone?"
Hermione huffed out a laugh. "A Maine Coon," she corrected him, rolling her eyes. "I suppose that wouldn't be so bad."
Before she could say anything more, she yelped as Harry's arms suddenly tightened around her in a playful hug. His voice dropped lower, teasing as his breath brushed her ear. "And then I'll carry you around, smuggle you into my room whenever I want… no one would question it. I'd give you treats, scratch behind your ears, your chin..." His hand moved to her chin, rubbing it gently in time with his words, sending a soft shiver down her spine.
Hermione swatted at him half-heartedly, though her protest lacked conviction. She could feel the smirk on Harry's face as he continued rubbing her chin, and despite herself, she found it oddly comforting. Annoying, yes, but also… well, she'd never admit it out loud, but she didn't mind being spoiled by Harry. Not one bit. She liked that he paid her attention, that he knew how to make her smile without even trying.
As Harry's fingers brushed the side of her neck, Hermione let out an involuntary exhale, leaning ever so slightly into his touch before catching herself. It wasn't lost on Harry, though. He grinned widely, moving in closer as if to kiss her cheek. But, to his surprise, Hermione shifted away at the last second, evading him.
"Wha—?" Harry blinked, momentarily stunned.
Hermione turned, a sly smirk on her lips as she met his eyes. "No kisses until you figure out why, Potter," she teased, standing up and dusting off her skirt.
Harry scrambled to his feet, still caught off guard. "W-What reason?" he stammered, watching as Hermione efficiently began tidying up their picnic. She waved her wand with practiced ease, shrinking the blanket and placing the now-tidy plates into the basket, which she then transformed into a small, portable box with a quick flick of her wrist.
"No clues," Hermione said, laughing as she pocketed the tiny box. "Come on, Ron and Draco are probably waiting with my birthday gifts. You wouldn't want to keep them waiting, would you?"
Harry grumbled under his breath, following her as she started making her way back towards the castle. "I'm never going to figure this out," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
Hermione, however, couldn't help the wide smile spreading across her face. She loved keeping him on his toes. 'That'll teach him a lesson,' she thought triumphantly as they walked side by side, the soft breeze ruffling their hair as they made their way back to the castle.
xxxxx
The afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of the Hogwarts library, casting golden rays that danced across the rows of ancient bookshelves. The soft rustling of parchment and the muted murmurs of students echoed in the distance, but in the quiet alcove where Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna sat, the atmosphere was intimate, warm, and filled with a subtle, playful tension.
Draco, ever the one to make an entrance, leaned back in his chair with a smirk as he passed his gift towards Hermione. "Holy hell, you're a teenager now!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with an exaggerated air of disbelief. His gift—a thick, worn-looking book on magical wards—rested in her hands, the cover catching the sunlight in a way that made it seem older than it actually was. Draco's choice was strategic, knowing full well it would spark Hermione's curiosity. He wanted her to delve into the art of warding, not just for her benefit but to get her working again with him on the Marauder's Map project they'd started.
Hermione smiled, flipping through the pages of the book, her fingers tracing the intricate diagrams of enchantments. She glanced up at Draco, who looked all too pleased with himself, his pale eyes glittering mischievously. "I didn't realize you were almost a year older than us," Ron piped up, breaking the momentary silence as he handed over his gift with a sheepish grin. His present—a meticulously chosen book on ancient runes—was a clear indicator of his latest obsession. The intricate carvings and symbols on the cover seemed to pulse with hidden knowledge, and Ron's motives were obvious: he wanted to pick her brain on rune-based enchantments for his own secret tattoo project.
Hermione raised an eyebrow at Ron's choice, her amusement evident. "Thanks, Ron," she said, her voice light but with a knowing look that made Ron shift slightly in his seat.
Ginny, sitting beside Luna, nudged the younger girl with a grin, and Luna, as serene as ever, produced a large basket wrapped in shimmering cellophane. It was filled to the brim with an array of Honeydukes' finest treats—chocolate frogs, sugar quills, and an assortment of other sweets that made Hermione's eyes widen. Luna handed it over with her usual dreamy expression, her eyes distant but kind.
Hermione blinked, surprised by the gesture. Luna and she had never been particularly close, their interactions limited to polite conversations and shared study sessions, so receiving such a thoughtful gift was unexpected. "Oh, thank you, Luna, Ginny," she said warmly, holding the basket as if it were a treasure chest. "I didn't expect this."
Luna tilted her head slightly, her pale blue eyes flickering with a distant kind of knowing. "It's all chocolate in there," she said softly. "I know that's your favorite."
Hermione shot Harry a questioning glance, raising her brow in surprise. Chocolate was indeed one of her favorites, something Harry teased her about often. But how had Luna known that? Harry, sitting beside her, immediately shook his head, grinning. "Even I don't know how she figures these things out," he whispered, chuckling under his breath.
The group shared a comfortable silence for a moment, the warmth of their camaraderie filling the small corner of the library. The soft flicker of candles and the low hum of magic in the air seemed to weave around them, creating a cozy, private world separate from the rest of Hogwarts.
"So, no chance there's still cake left?" Ron asked, breaking the quiet, his voice filled with hope and a hint of impatience.
Harry, ever the planner, grinned widely. "You all have slices set aside," he said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'll pass them out after dinner. Consider it dessert."
Ron's face lit up with delight. "Excellent!" he said, rubbing his hands together as if already savoring the chocolate cake Harry had baked earlier. His enthusiasm was contagious, and even Draco cracked a smile, though he tried to hide it behind a facade of nonchalance.
As Hermione carefully placed the gifts aside, she couldn't help but feel a swell of warmth in her chest. Each gift, no matter how different, had been chosen with thought and care.
Hermione looked around at her friends—her family in all but name—and for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to bask in the contentment of it all. The teasing, the laughter, the comfort of knowing she was cared for—it was all so simple, yet so wonderfully perfect.
xxxxx
Evening had settled over the Gryffindor Tower, casting a warm, golden glow throughout the common room as students wrapped up their nightly routines. The room buzzed with the muted chatter of friends and the quiet crackling of the fireplace, while the wind whistled faintly outside the tower windows. But up in the girls' dormitory, tucked away behind the red and gold drapes of Hermione Granger's four-poster bed, a different atmosphere lingered.
Hermione lay comfortably propped up on her bed, a small book in her hands, her back resting against the soft pillows as she leaned into Harry. His arm was draped beneath her head, and her body was pressed lightly against his side, both of them sharing the intimate space. They'd been in this position for a while now, in the stillness of the room where time seemed to stretch lazily, but Harry's restlessness hadn't gone unnoticed. His mind was clearly elsewhere.
Harry, staring up at the ceiling with a frown etched on his face, shifted uncomfortably. His thoughts had been gnawing at him, circling around a single incident that refused to leave his head.
'What kind of idiocy did I commit to earn a ban on kissing Hermione?' he brooded silently, his brow furrowed in confusion. 'Why am I even thinking about it this much? It's not like we're going out or anything.' He sighed, letting the weight of his thoughts spill out, the sound breaking the otherwise peaceful quiet.
Hermione chuckled softly from where her head rested on his arm. She hadn't taken her eyes off the book, but his sigh was enough to catch her attention. "Still haven't figured it out, have you?"
Harry frowned, rolling his eyes in frustration. "No, I give up," he muttered, turning his head to glance at her. "I'm going to spend my entire life banned from kissing you just because I'm a complete idiot."
Hermione smirked and lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyebrows raised playfully. "Why are you acting like such a victim?" she teased, closing her book with a soft thud and placing it on the nightstand beside her bed.
Harry let out another long, exaggerated sigh. "Oh, poor little me," he groaned dramatically, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead as though utterly helpless.
Unable to resist, Hermione giggled before lightly swatting him on the chest. Then, without warning, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the warmth of her lips sending a small shock through him. His eyes widened in surprise, and a mischievous smirk slowly curled on his lips. Before he could react and kiss her back, Hermione quickly pulled away, her smirk mirroring his own.
"Wha—hey!" Harry protested, his voice a mix of frustration and amusement. "Why do you get to kiss me and I can't kiss you back?"
"Because I'm not the one on a ban," Hermione grinned, her tone light and teasing as she leaned in again, peppering his face with tiny, playful kisses that had Harry groaning in mock despair.
"I don't like this game anymore," Harry grumbled, though the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed his words.
Hermione laughed softly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "You just don't like it because, for once, you're not the one in control."
"Can you please give me a hint?" Harry pleaded, his voice taking on a whiny tone. "Please? Please, please, pleaaaase?"
Hermione bit her lip, feeling an odd flutter in her stomach as she looked at Harry, his begging making her feel a strange sense of power. It was a thrilling, unexpected feeling, one she couldn't quite put into words.
"The hint," Hermione began, leaning close to him once more, her lips brushing his cheek, "is that I'm doing it right now."
Harry blinked, letting the words sink in before letting out a deep sigh. "Is it… about our kiss?"
Hermione nodded, sitting up on the bed and folding her hands in her lap as she watched Harry process her words. His frown deepened, and he shifted to sit up beside her, their legs barely touching as he reached for her hands.
"I… I know it was in the heat of the moment," Harry began, his voice quieter now, more serious. "But I'm sorry I kissed you back then. I was out of line, and I've been embarrassed to bring it up since. I didn't want to make things awkward between us. We tease each other all the time and it's fun, but that… that was different, and I should've asked first. I'm really sorry."
Hermione's face softened, her expression unreadable as she let out a small sigh of her own. "Harry… it's not weird to bring it up again," she said quietly. "What was weird was that you didn't. And it made me think you hated it. It made me feel… bad about myself."
"What?" Harry's eyes widened in shock, his hand waving as if to dismiss the thought. "No, no! I liked it—I actually loved it! I'd love to do it again, honestly—" He clapped his hand over his mouth in embarrassment. "Sorry."
"Stop apologizing!" Hermione squeaked, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she glanced away for a moment. "If you want to do it again, why didn't you?"
"Well… for one, I'm under a kissing ban," Harry smirked, his tone playful.
"Before the ban!" Hermione demanded, leaning toward him.
"I… I didn't know if you'd want to," Harry mumbled, his eyes dropping to the bed.
Hermione groaned, her patience wearing thin. "Why are you so stupid?" she muttered, before grabbing his face and leaning in to kiss him again.
Just as her lips were about to brush his, Harry quickly placed a hand over her mouth, his eyes wide with sudden panic. Hermione's eyes widened in shock before narrowing into a glare.
"Oh, wow, I couldn't have timed this worse if I tried," Harry stammered, but before Hermione could pull away, he trapped her between his legs, preventing her from moving. "I need to say something first."
Hermione crossed her arms, clearly annoyed. "Is it important?"
"Let's just say, once you hear it, it might change whether or not you'll want to kiss me again," Harry admitted with a sheepish look.
Hermione hesitated for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly. "I think we can risk it."
"I'm serious—" Harry started, but his words were cut off when Hermione finally leaned in and kissed him on the lips.
The world around them seemed to fall away as their lips pressed together in a simple, perfect kiss. The stress, the teasing, the confusion—it all melted in the warmth of the moment. There was no rush, no urgency, just the quiet, unspoken connection between them. And when breathing finally became a necessity, Hermione pulled away gently, their foreheads resting together for a brief, breathless moment.
Hermione's lips curved into a smirk, her voice soft but teasing as she said, "See? I liked it." She laughed quietly. "Now, tell me what you wanted to say and let's see how you'll ruin this moment."
Harry groaned, rolling his eyes as he straightened up. "Right… okay." He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. "On the day I was late for the Hogwarts Express, I got a summons from the goblins. Since I'm the last of my line, I'm expected to claim lordship when I turn fifteen. Not when I'm of age as we all expected. But the catch is, I need to settle on a betrothal contract before then. I need to be married by seventeen, and… well, have an heir by nineteen."
Hermione nodded slowly, waiting for the worst part.
"And," Harry continued with a heavy sigh, "because I'm the Heir to Sirius, but not by blood, I need to continue the Black line as well. Sirius can't have kids—he's barren, yeah, no, I just found out the same day—so I have to. But here's the thing… it can't be with the same wife I'll have for the Potter line." He let out a deep breath, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "So, I'm going to need two wives."
The color drained from Hermione's face, a cold, sinking feeling washing over her. It was as though the entire world had tilted on its axis.
xxxxx
Hermione sat cross-legged on her bed, half listening, half lost in her thoughts as Harry continued to ramble. His voice was tense, filled with frustration and uncertainty, as he tried to explain the complex web of legalities surrounding the Black family line. The soft glow of the dorm room's firelight flickered against the crimson curtains that framed her bed, casting warm shadows around them, but the warmth did nothing to ease the tension in the air.
"I'll try to spill all the facts that I've learned, and I know this is confusing, so just… please absorb whatever you can." Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly agitated. "Basically, right now, I'm not an official heir. I just get the whole estate and the money when Sirius dies, but the family line—well, that's where it all gets complicated."
His eyes darted back and forth, like he was trying to untangle the mess in his mind, pacing back and forth beside her bed. Hermione kept her eyes on him, though her head was already spinning from the barrage of information. His usual confidence seemed to be cracking at the edges, and it was rare to see Harry like this—so unsure, so out of control.
"The issue with the Black family line," he continued, "is that when I turn fifteen, I have to claim official heirship. When I get married, my wife has to change her surname to Black. The Potter-Black surname isn't an option for me, and I can't just pick Harry Black either. It's... It's got to be one or the other. We even tried to shift the heirship to Draco, but his family—since that house is tied to France—would cause all sorts of diplomatic issues."
Hermione stared at him, her lips pursing in frustration as her mind worked overtime to try to make sense of it all. Harry kept talking, his words tumbling out faster than she could process. "There are only a few other Black family members left, like Nymphadora Tonks, but her daughter's already of age, so she can't change her surname. And if I don't pick someone to marry soon, they'll force me into it. A random pureblood, Hermione. To carry on the family name."
She held up a hand, halting him mid-sentence. "Okay, okay, stop." Her voice was weary, and her head pounded from the sheer absurdity of it all. "I can't, Harry. I seriously can't process all of this right now. I need good sleep if I'm going to absorb any of this."
"I know, I know, and I'm sorry." Harry's shoulders slumped as he stood at the edge of her bed. His voice softened, guilt lacing his words. "I'm just as confused as you are. Sirius is doing everything he can, trying to find a way out of this mess. He's asked Emma to help research a loophole or anything we can use to break free of this, but… I don't know if there even is one."
Hermione sighed deeply, rubbing her temples as her headache intensified. "Harry, stop. Just… stop for now." She met his eyes, feeling a tug of sympathy for him despite her own frustration. "I need to sleep. Or think. Or both."
Harry didn't move. He hesitated, lingering by her bed as though wanting to say something more, but unsure how to express it. The sadness in his eyes tugged at her heart, but she didn't have the energy to handle his emotions on top of her own. "Harry, not now, please," she murmured, pushing him gently away.
He cast his gaze down, his face crumpling into a dejected frown. She could almost feel his longing, that silent plea for comfort that he didn't know how to ask for. "I know what you're thinking, Harry, and we'll deal with that later. I just need time to think."
She leaned in, pressing her lips on his in a soft, reassuring kiss. "For now, we need to do some research. We've still got time before any of this becomes unavoidable. We can figure this out together, okay?" Her voice softened, offering him what little comfort she could. "Just calm down. We'll help you. You're not alone in this."
Harry let out a quiet, resigned sigh. "Okay," he mumbled, sounding both relieved and defeated at once. "Thank you."
With that, Harry pulled his Cloak over his shoulders and disappeared into the shadows of the common room, the door closing softly behind him.
For a long while, Hermione remained motionless in her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The room felt empty, the weight of everything Harry had said pressing down on her like a heavy blanket. Her mind swirled with thoughts—betrothals, heirs, ancient family lines—it was all too much.
And yet, despite the whirlwind of confusion, one thought rang out clearly above all the others.
'I am not sharing my Harry with anyone,' she fumed internally, her fists clenching the bedsheets as a surge of possessive anger swept through her.
Suddenly, Hermione sat up, throwing her pillow to the floor with a huff. Her chest tightened, and she felt a fire blazing in her belly that had nothing to do with Harry's convoluted family obligations. There was no way—no way—she was going to sit back and let some random pureblood girl waltz in and take what was hers. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And it certainly wasn't happening if she had any say in the matter.
'I'll figure this out,' she vowed silently, her jaw set with determination. 'There's always a way. I'll help Harry, but I'm not going to let him slip away from me.'
With renewed resolve, Hermione rummaged through her trunk, finding the small bottle of sleeping potion she had stored for emergencies. She uncorked it and downed the liquid in one swift gulp, feeling the warm drowsiness begin to wash over her immediately. She needed rest, time to think—time to plan.
As the potion took effect and her eyelids began to grow heavy, Hermione lay back down, her thoughts still racing. No matter what Harry's family obligations threw at them, she would find a way through it. For now, though, sleep was the only solution to quiet her mind.
With one last heavy sigh, she rolled onto her side, clutching her blanket tightly, and willed herself to dream.
'To hell with the Black family line,' she thought bitterly. 'Harry's mine.'
And with that, she drifted off into a deep, restless sleep.
Chapter 26: Paint
Chapter Text
The Room of Requirement was unusually quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fireplace that had flickered into existence the moment Harry, Ron, and Draco stepped inside. The room adjusted itself to their needs, creating an expansive, cozy lounge area with large armchairs and cushions scattered around. Despite the relaxed atmosphere, there was an underlying tension in the air, a sense that they were tiptoeing around heavier issues that had yet to be fully addressed.
Ron Weasley leaned back in one of the chairs, his face thoughtful. He was no stranger to the complexities of pureblood politics, having grown up in a family that was steeped in tradition but lacked the financial power or societal influence that often accompanied such a status. The Weasleys were an Ancient House, yes, but without the riches or the desire to cling to the old pureblood ideologies, they had never quite fit into the same mold as families like the Malfoys or the Blacks. It wasn't something that bothered Ron on most days, but hearing Harry speak of his own inheritance and the tangled mess that came with it brought the issue to the forefront of his mind.
Harry had just finished explaining the whole situation to Ron and Draco, and Ron still couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that Harry had waited to tell them after talking to Hermione first.
"Wait," Ron suddenly blurted out, the question escaping his mouth before he could stop himself. "So you and Hermione are going out now? Like... boyfriend and girlfriend?"
Harry shot him a flat, unimpressed look. "That's what you got from everything I just said?"
Ron shrugged, grinning mischievously. "Just answer the question."
Harry sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. "I don't know. I was kicked out before I could finish the conversation."
Ron snorted, leaning forward eagerly. "Kicked out, huh? Sounds promising."
Draco, who had been quietly listening, raised an eyebrow, his voice smooth and calculated. "So, you're planning on making her your betrothed for the Potter line, then?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably, crossing his arms as he leaned against the back of the chair. "Yes," he admitted, his tone begrudging. "But if it were just the Potter line, I wouldn't have a problem. The issue is the Black line. If I don't sort this out, I'll be forced into some ridiculous marriage arrangement with a random pureblood just to keep the line going. It's insane."
Draco's frown deepened as he considered the ramifications. "You do realize that if people find out about this—about Hermione—there will be consequences. The purebloods, especially the old ones, they won't take kindly to her being involved. The bigotry she'll face… it won't be pretty."
Harry's green eyes hardened, a dangerous glint flashing in them. "I'd like to see them try," he said coldly. "If they come after Hermione, I won't hesitate to go Dark to protect her."
The room went still. Ron, who had been lounging casually, immediately straightened, his body tense at the implications of Harry's words. He knew Harry wasn't one to follow the Light or Dark paths strictly. Harry was more of a Grey wizard, one who did whatever he believed was right, regardless of whether it was considered 'Light' or 'Dark.' But hearing Harry so casually mention the idea of going Dark still sent a shiver down his spine. It was both thrilling and unnerving.
Draco, too, seemed to take Harry's declaration seriously, though his response was more measured. "If it comes to that," Draco said slowly, "then you'll need more than just magic to defend her. You'll need a solid plan. But that's for later."
Ron, sensing the growing tension, decided to shift the conversation to something lighter. "So... where's Hermione now?" he asked, his voice purposely casual.
"Probably in the library," Harry replied with a sigh.
A moment of silence stretched between the three of them, and then, in typical Ron fashion, he broke the quiet with a cheeky grin. "So… two wives, huh?"
Harry shot him a withering look but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. "I appreciate the joke, Ron, but for the love of Merlin, don't say that in front of Hermione. You know I won't be able to protect you from her wrath if she's in a mood."
Ron and Draco burst out laughing, the tension in the room easing as they shared the joke. Harry, still smiling, reached into his bag and pulled out three small boxes, handing one to each of them.
"Here," he said. "I picked these up from Gringotts before we left for Hogwarts. I wanted to give Hermione hers first, but now seems as good a time as any."
"What is it?" Ron asked, opening the box with curiosity. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a bracelet strung with small, sharp teeth. Ron made a face. "Are these... teeth?"
"Dragon fangs," Draco whispered in awe, holding up his own box to reveal a necklace with a single large fang as the pendant.
Harry grinned. "Yup. Whoever kills the dragon gets the bigger set of fangs. Since we handled it together, we each get one. Hermione's got hers as earrings, though. And Ron, well… I wouldn't want you to be left out, so I had them make yours into a bracelet."
Ron looked down at the bracelet and shrugged, fastening it around his wrist. "Charlie's going to lose his mind when he sees this. What's the story we're going with?"
"A gift from Sirius, obviously," Harry said with a smirk.
Draco, examining his necklace, looked thoughtful. "What about the rest of the dragon? The bones, the hide?"
Harry waved his hand dismissively. "The hide was too thin, so I sold it to the goblins. Same with the meat. As for the bones, they're in Hermione's vault. They're too brittle for much use right now, but the goblins said they'd make good potion ingredients."
Ron's eyes lit up. "Potion ingredients, you say? Could I have a few pieces of it?"
"What are you going to do with dragon bones?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ron shared a conspiratorial look with Harry before answering. "You know how I've been researching runes, right? I'm thinking we could use the bones to make rune tattoos—something special for the Marauders, something that'll set us apart. A tradition, you know? Something new."
Harry waited, half-expecting Draco to scoff at the idea, but instead, Draco nodded thoughtfully.
"With the right runes," Draco said slowly, "we could enhance protection, strength, even speed or luck. It's risky, but it could work."
Ron grinned, practically bouncing with excitement. "Brilliant! Now all we have to do is convince Hermione."
Harry laughed. "Good luck with that. You know the bones are in her vault, right? I can't take them out without her permission."
Ron paled slightly, chuckling nervously. "Maybe I'll wait until she's in a better mood."
xxxxx
It was the weekend at Hogwarts, and with no pressing schoolwork to attend to, the castle had settled into a relaxed atmosphere. In the Great Hall, a few students had gathered for the Dueling Club, eager to test their wands and learn more about defense against dark magic. But when Harry and his friends discovered that Gilderoy Lockhart was leading it, they had unanimously decided not to bother. Even watching would have been a waste of time.
Instead, they found themselves in the Room of Requirement, a hidden sanctuary where they could escape the prying eyes of their fellow students and professors. The room had transformed into a cozy space, complete with plush couches and scattered study materials. A low fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows along the stone walls.
Harry lounged on one of the couches, his arm draped casually over Hermione's shoulders. She didn't seem to mind; in fact, she leaned into him slightly as she huffed over an ancient book on wizarding law. Beside them, Ron and Draco were hunched over a low table, scribbling on parchment as they worked on rune clusters. It was the first draft of a set of protective runes that they planned to experiment with, once they had the materials to tattoo them onto themselves.
Hermione, however, was in no mood for runes or idle chatter. She had her nose buried in a book so old, Harry was fairly certain he had its descendant tucked away in the Potter library somewhere. The pages crackled each time she turned them, and the musty smell of old parchment filled the air.
He smirked to himself at the thought, but his amusement didn't go unnoticed. Hermione shot him a glare. "Something funny?" she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Caught off guard, Harry stammered, "Oh, no, I was just thinking of a joke..." He quickly fished a chocolate bar from his robes, as if peace offerings could save him. "Chocolate?"
Without hesitation, Hermione bit into the bar, her annoyance still simmering just below the surface. "This is so annoying!" she grumbled through a mouthful of chocolate. "There's nothing that can be done about it! Everything I've read says the same thing. You either have to take on two wives or pass the Black family to another pureblood line! And Morgana help us, there's even a law about consorts if your wife can't bear children!"
Harry's eyes widened as Hermione's voice grew more shrill with each word. He reached over and rubbed her back soothingly. "Alright, calm down," he said softly. "We've still got a few good years before anything has to be decided."
Hermione groaned in frustration, pulling an envelope from the pocket of her robes. The seal, made of golden wax, gleamed ominously in the firelight.
Draco, who had been quietly listening, stiffened. "Is that— a betrothal contract?" he asked, his voice low.
Hermione sighed. "Hedwig dropped it on me during breakfast. She must have gave it to me since Harry wasn't there. I didn't open it."
Harry took the envelope from her and cracked the seal. He scanned the contents quickly, his face twisting into a grimace before he tossed the letter onto the table. Draco and Ron immediately leaned over to read it.
"Pansy Parkinson?" Ron exclaimed, his face contorting with disgust. "That girl hit me with a Beater's bat and called it a prank when we were kids!"
"I don't like this at all," Draco muttered, frowning as he re-read the letter. "This can't be a coincidence. Did the goblins announce anything about the heir issue?"
"Exactly!" Hermione said, frustration clear in her voice. "Something doesn't add up."
"No, no, this is just a coincidence," Ron said, trying to wave off her concerns. "We only found out about it now, but Harry learned about the whole thing at the start of the term. If people knew about the heir problem, there would have been proposals flying in left and right. Besides," he gestured at the letter, "this is a Potter betrothal offer, not a Black one."
Hermione's expression darkened as she yanked at her hair in frustration. "I'll kill anyone who tries to take Harry away from me! He's mine!"
The room fell into a stunned silence. Ron and Draco exchanged wide-eyed glances, while Harry, looking both surprised and amused, smirked at Hermione's outburst.
"I'm yours?" Harry asked, his voice playful, teasing her with a raised eyebrow.
Realizing what she had just blurted out, Hermione's face flushed bright red. She turned her glare on Harry, though it lacked its usual ferocity. "What? Are you saying you're not?" she shot back, her voice tight with embarrassment.
Harry chuckled, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "No, no, just wanted to hear you say it again."
Ron groaned, making a face as he watched the two of them. "Ugh, could you two not do that when I'm around?" he grumbled, though there was a note of teasing in his voice. "You're going to make me sick."
Before anyone could respond, the sound of stone grinding against stone echoed in the room. All four of them turned sharply as the door to the Room of Requirement began to materialize, slowly taking form before their eyes.
"Hide!" Harry hissed, throwing his Invisibility Cloak towards Ron. Without hesitation, Ron grabbed one end while Harry held the other, lifting it like a makeshift wall. Draco and Hermione scrambled to duck behind it, their movements quick and silent.
The door clicked open, and the Marauders held their breath, expecting a professor or—Merlin forbid—the Headmaster himself to step into the room.
But instead, a figure skipped in lightly, completely unaware of their presence.
Luna Lovegood.
The tension in the room evaporated as Luna moved to the center of the room, her silver-blonde hair swaying with each step. She paused for a moment, her wide, dreamy eyes focusing on the space before her. With a soft hum, a bed materialized out of thin air, and she plopped down onto it, pulling a book from her robes as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
Harry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione exchanged incredulous glances from behind the cloak. Luna, oblivious to the chaos she had almost caused, simply settled into her book, humming softly to herself.
xxxxx
Harry squinted from behind the Cloak, his body pressed against the stone wall as he watched the peculiar sight in front of him. "Wha—" he began, his voice barely above a whisper as he glanced at Luna sprawled out on the bed in the center of the Room of Requirement. "What's she doing here?"
Ron, leaning in closer to Harry, kept his voice low but tense. "I don't know. Did she know about the Room? Or… did she accidentally find it?"
Draco stood just a step behind them, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as he observed the scene unfolding. "She looks far too comfortable to have just stumbled in here," Draco whispered, his voice dripping with suspicion. His sharp eyes traced Luna's serene posture as she hummed quietly to herself, flipping through a book in her hands like she belonged here.
Hermione, however, remained quiet. Her gaze fixated on Luna with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. She hadn't spoken much to the younger girl in private, though she knew plenty from what the boys had shared. Luna Lovegood was strange, no doubt—quirky, dreamy, and often lost in her own world. Hermione hadn't pressed for conversation with her before, but she could always feel that lingering sense that Luna wanted to talk. Yet neither girl had made the first move.
Ron, for one, had grown fond of her, mostly because she could match his interest in Runes, and she seemed to make everything just a bit weirder, which entertained him. Draco, though indifferent, sometimes found her antics amusing in a way that even he couldn't explain. And Harry… well, Harry had taken to doting on Luna like a protective older brother, keeping a watchful eye over her even when no one asked him to. Hermione couldn't deny there was a certain warmth in the way Harry treated Luna, as if she were some younger sibling he felt responsible for.
Yet now, as Luna lay across the bed, humming and reading, Hermione couldn't shake the odd feeling that perhaps Luna had been waiting for them all along.
"I—Is she looking straight at us?" Harry whispered, his breath catching as he noticed Luna had suddenly stopped turning the pages of her book.
The others froze, holding their breaths as Luna sat up and looked in their direction. All four of them stared in disbelief as Luna seemed to gaze directly through the invisibility Cloak, her dreamy eyes gleaming with an almost knowing glint. Slowly, she got to her feet and began walking toward them, her light steps echoing softly on the floor. The silence in the room grew heavy as she came to a stop right in front of where they stood hidden.
Luna tilted her head to the side, a curious smile playing on her lips. "Harry?" she called out softly, her voice melodic and gentle.
Harry groaned softly under his breath, realizing they had been caught. Resigned, he yanked the Cloak off with a nervous chuckle. "Heyyy, little moon," he greeted, his voice a bit strained as he tried to sound casual.
Luna giggled softly, her smile widening. "Did you pick that up from my Mum?"
Harry's cheeks flushed slightly. "I did. It sounded weird, didn't it? Sorry, I won't do it again."
But Luna shook her head, her eyes bright and sincere. "No, it's quite alright. Only my Daddy calls me that anymore, so it's fun to hear it again." Her smile was so pure, so disarmingly genuine, that all four of them—Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Draco—found themselves looking away, suddenly unable to meet her gaze. Luna's joy was so unguarded, so radiant, that it felt almost too intimate to witness.
"How did you know about this room, Luna?" Hermione asked, determined to steer the conversation into something more grounded.
Luna turned to her, her soft gaze lingering on Hermione's face for a moment longer than expected. "Huh, I keep forgetting you're not my Hermione..." she mumbled absentmindedly. The words were barely audible, and no one seemed to catch them—except for Harry, whose brow furrowed in confusion.
"I just know about it," Luna shrugged, as if that were a perfectly reasonable explanation. "I didn't know you guys were here. I usually come here to sleep when it's too late to walk back to the tower."
"You sleep here?" Draco asked, disbelief creeping into his tone.
Luna nodded matter-of-factly, as though the idea of sleeping in the Room of Requirement was the most natural thing in the world. "Yes, sometimes I even take a bath here if it's too far to get back."
"A bath?!" Ron exclaimed, his voice rising a bit too high in his shock.
Luna nodded again, completely unbothered by his incredulity. "Yes, it's quite convenient. Would you like to see?"
Without waiting for a response, Luna wandered over to a corner of the room and focused on a spot against the wall. In an instant, a door appeared, seamlessly blending into the surroundings. She opened it, revealing a gleaming, oversized bathtub inside, large enough for several people to fit comfortably.
"See?" Luna said cheerfully, gesturing towards the pristine space with a proud smile.
"Bloody hell, we could literally live here forever," Ron muttered, staring wide-eyed at the room's seemingly endless possibilities.
Hermione, for her part, couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity as well. Her mind raced with thoughts of all the untapped potential the Room of Requirement might hold. "What else can this room do, Luna?" she asked, her voice tinged with fascination now.
Luna pondered for a moment, tapping her chin lightly before offering an answer. "I haven't tried it out yet, but I'm pretty sure we can create a passage from here straight to Hogsmeade if we wanted."
"What?!" Harry, Ron, and Draco shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the room.
Hermione, however, remained silent. She studied Luna with renewed interest, her previous doubts now entirely replaced by a deep appreciation for just how much the younger girl knew. There was a strange brilliance to Luna, one that Hermione hadn't fully grasped until now. She had knowledge hidden behind her whimsical demeanor, knowledge that only surfaced when the right questions were asked.
A slow, knowing smile spread across Hermione's face. For a fleeting moment, she could almost understand why Harry had claimed Luna as his from the moment they'd first met her on the train. There was something irresistible about the girl's quirks, her unpredictability, and her endless potential to surprise them all.
xxxxx
It had been a few days since Luna had shared all of the magical nuances of the Room of Requirement, and in that short span, things had shifted in their small group. Ron, for one, had practically claimed the Room as his own personal haven, often spending his nights sprawled out on the expansive bed, muttering about how much better it was than the stuffy Gryffindor dormitory. Clothes had mysteriously found their way into the Room's hidden wardrobes, and it had become his unofficial retreat. Even Draco, with his high standards, occasionally joined Ron for late-night sessions, often burning the midnight oil as they worked on their rune clusters, huddled over parchment until their eyes drooped with exhaustion.
Hermione had been acting strange as well. Every now and then, she'd link her arm around Luna's shoulders and whisk her off for whispered conversations. Their heads would be bent close together, conspiratorial smiles exchanged as they disappeared around corners, leaving Harry bewildered. It wasn't that he minded Luna spending time with Hermione, but the secrecy gnawed at him.
Whenever Harry pressed them for answers, his inquiries were met with shrugs and cryptic smiles. So naturally, Harry decided to take matters into his own hands.
"I don't particularly like being manhandled, Harry," Luna remarked in her usual dreamy tone, dangling precariously over his shoulder as they hurried through a quiet corridor. Her long, silvery-blonde hair swayed gently as Harry carried her like a sack of flour. "But since it's you, I don't particularly mind that much."
Harry let out a breathless laugh as they finally reached their destination—an empty greenhouse bathed in the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the glass. He set her down gently, still chuckling. "Alright, Luna. What is it that you and Hermione have been plotting behind my back?"
Luna hummed, twirling in place as she tilted her head to one side. "I can't tell you. Hermione made me swear, you see. She said she'd feed me to the Giant Squid if I let it slip. I didn't even know you were friends with him! Will you introduce me?"
Harry groaned, running a hand through his hair, though a smile tugged at his lips. "Hermione's not feeding you to the Giant Squid, Luna."
Luna giggled in that melodic way of hers, her pale eyes twinkling with mischief as she rocked on her heels. Harry, exasperated but unable to stay frustrated with her, sighed dramatically and leaned down, pinching her cheeks in retaliation. "You're impossible," he muttered as he tugged her face apart, her cheeks stretching comically as she let out a squeal of laughter, squirming to free herself.
Out of nowhere, a forceful shove sent Harry stumbling sideways, nearly toppling over a mound of soil. He caught himself at the last moment, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he looked up to see who had dared push him. His glare faded into surprise as he recognized the person standing before him.
"Heir Longbottom," Harry hissed through gritted teeth, straightening up and brushing the dirt from his robes. "What a delightful surprise."
Neville Longbottom, standing tall and rigid, glared at Harry, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "Heir Potter, what do you think you're doing with a first-year? Have you no shame?"
Harry's brow arched as he sneered back at the Hufflepuff. "First of all, I'm not doing anything inappropriate. We're just talking." His arm instinctively curled around Luna's waist, pulling her close as if to make a point. "Second of all, she's mine, Longbottom. Get your mind out of the gutter. You've spent so much time cooped up in greenhouses, you've forgotten how to think straight."
Neville's eyes flicked between Harry and Luna, a mix of confusion and anger etched on his face. "Get out of this greenhouse. You're tainting it with your madness, and we've got a class here next."
With a huff, Harry tugged Luna toward the exit. "Always a pleasure chatting with you, Heir Longbottom," he called over his shoulder, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Neville's response was curt. "Fuck off, Heir Potter."
As they walked away, Luna looked up at Harry, her wide eyes full of curiosity. "That was rather rude of him to push you, Harry," she observed, her voice soft but thoughtful.
"Yeah, well, that's Neville Longbottom for you. Heir to the House of Longbottom," Harry explained with a sigh, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. "He's got it in his head that because I'm the Heir to Sirius Black, it means I'm somehow connected to the reason his parents are in St. Mungo's. He thinks I'm part of the same family that destroyed his life."
Luna, ever perceptive, frowned slightly. She remembered reading about the Longbottoms in the papers. Their story had been told time and again, a tragic tale recounted each year on the anniversary of Voldemort's fall. Bellatrix Lestrange, cousin to Sirius Black, had been the one to torture Neville's parents into insanity. Though alive, they were but shadows of their former selves, forever lost in the depths of their broken minds.
"But why blame Sirius?" Luna asked, her brows knitting together. "He wasn't the one who hurt Neville's parents. He was a Junior Auror back then, wasn't he? He helped capture Death Eaters."
Harry shrugged, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, but apparently Neville's gran—Augusta Longbottom—thinks Sirius didn't do enough to capture Bellatrix. She believes he focused too much on finding Pettigrew instead of bringing Bellatrix to justice. When they finally caught her, it was only because she made the mistake of breaking into Sirius's home. By then, Neville's parents were already ruined."
Luna's frown deepened. "That's terribly sad… but it's unfair."
Harry nodded in agreement. "I know. Neville and I were friends when we were babies. His mum was even my godmother. But ever since that night, Augusta has raised Neville to see me—and the Black family—as enemies. Thankfully, they're not mad enough to start a blood feud. Not that they'd win," he added with a smirk.
"You should try to be friends with him again, Harry," Luna suggested, her tone soft but hopeful.
"I'd like to," Harry admitted with a sigh, "but I've got enough on my plate as it is. Besides, it's hard to be friends with someone who shoves you into dirt the second they see you."
They reached the entrance to the Great Hall, the sounds of clinking silverware and chatter spilling out into the corridor. Harry glanced down at Luna, raising an eyebrow. "So… are you still not going to tell me what you and Hermione are up to?"
Luna smiled serenely, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Nope. But don't worry, Harry. You'll find out soon enough."
With that, she skipped off toward the Gryffindor table, where Ginny and Colin Creevey were waiting for her. Harry watched her go, shaking his head in exasperation. Luna was an enigma—one he wasn't sure he'd ever fully understand.
xxxxx
It didn't take much time for Harry to figure out what was going on between Hermione and Luna. The day had started like any other, with students gathering in the Great Hall, the usual chatter filling the air as breakfast was served. The enchanted ceiling mimicked a bright, clear sky, a soft breeze occasionally brushing through the magically open windows. But the calm of the morning was shattered by the sudden, sharp burst of chaos.
It happened the moment the owls swooped down to deliver the morning post. A loud explosion erupted from the Slytherin table, a sound so jarring that it echoed off the stone walls, causing everyone to freeze mid-bite. Heads whipped around toward the source of the noise, eyes wide with curiosity and alarm.
Harry and Ron, seated at the Gryffindor table, immediately turned toward the commotion. Their eyes landed on Draco Malfoy, who was standing, his arms stretched wide, robes flared dramatically as he shielded Astoria and Daphne from whatever had just exploded. The look on his face was priceless—caught between confusion and sheer annoyance, his silver-blonde hair now streaked with black splatter.
When the dust settled, Harry groaned, rubbing his temple as his gaze locked on the true cause of the spectacle.
Pansy Parkinson was completely covered in black paint. The thick, oily substance clung to every inch of her, from the tips of her hair to her robes, dripping in messy globs onto the Slytherin table. But that wasn't the worst of it. As she struggled, her shrieks of rage and embarrassment filling the hall, it became clear that she wasn't just covered in paint—she was stuck to the table. A wickedly strong Sticking Charm had rooted her to the spot, leaving her thrashing in vain as she tried to free herself.
Other students at the Slytherin table had been hit with the paint as well, though they were luckier, only sporting splatters across their robes. Pansy, however, had received the full brunt of the prank, and her furious screams only intensified as she realized her predicament.
Ron's eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open in shock. "Blimey," he muttered, his voice low. "These girls are crazy, Harry."
Harry's eyes flicked toward the other side of the table, where Hermione and Luna sat. Both girls had gone unusually still. Hermione stared down at her plate, her face pale and tense, while Luna, ever the picture of calm, simply picked at her food with an air of serene innocence. But the slight twitch of Hermione's lips and the way Luna's eyes sparkled with mischief told Harry everything he needed to know.
"Quiet down! Do you want to be the next target?" Harry hissed, glancing sharply at Ron.
Ron immediately sank lower into his seat, his head dipping just below the line of sight as if that would somehow shield him from the wrath of any vengeful pranksters. Harry could practically feel the panic radiating off him.
Meanwhile, at the Slytherin table, the situation had escalated. Several professors, led by a very exasperated Professor Snape, rushed over to assist. Snape's face was a mask of utter disdain as he waved his wand, attempting to remove the paint from Pansy's robes. However, the charm didn't seem to be working. The black paint clung stubbornly to her, as if it had fused with the fabric itself, making every attempt to clean her up futile.
The rest of the hall watched in amusement, laughter bubbling up from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables as they took in the spectacle. Even the Ravenclaws, usually more reserved, were snickering into their goblets. Harry caught a glimpse of Astoria and Daphne, who were giggling behind their hands while Draco continued to look mildly horrified.
"They've got no idea what to do with her," Harry observed, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"They can't even get her off the table," Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief as the professors tried—again—to peel Pansy away from the wood, but the Sticking Charm held fast.
"Do you reckon Snape knows what's going on?" Harry muttered, glancing at Hermione and Luna once more. Hermione had still yet to look up, and Luna hummed softly, her expression dreamy, as if she hadn't just been part of one of the most chaotic pranks of the year.
"Let's hope not," Ron replied, eyes darting nervously between the Slytherin table and the girls. "We don't know anything, right? Not a word."
"Not a thing and I'm sure Draco had nothing to do with this either," Harry muttered. His eyes flicked back to his friend, who was busy wiping paint off Astoria's robes. Draco shot him a look that clearly said, 'I'm innocent,' but Harry wasn't so sure.
"How's your Occlumency?" Harry asked quietly, changing the subject. His gaze drifted cautiously around the hall, making sure no one was paying them too much attention.
"Same as yours—enough to feel a probe, but not enough to stop it," Ron admitted, his brow furrowed. "Why?"
Harry reached into his hand and pulled out his Black Heir ring. The deep onyx gemstone glinted in the candlelight as he held it between his fingers. "Just enough," he muttered under his breath. "Luna, give me your hand."
Luna blinked at him in surprise, her usual faraway expression sharpening with curiosity. Without a word, she extended her hand across the table, her fingers brushing against his as he slid the ring onto her slender finger. The deep onyx stone glimmered faintly, casting a soft, protective glow.
"This is to protect you from Legilimency," Harry explained, his voice low but firm. "Just in case."
Luna looked down at the ring, her pale blue eyes lighting up with a mixture of awe and something that looked suspiciously like delight. She twirled it around her finger for a moment, as if testing its weight, before a soft smile curved her lips.
But instead of keeping the ring, Luna carefully slipped it off her finger and handed it back to Harry. "I don't need it," she said, her voice soft but confident. "I'm a natural Occlumens. I'm perfectly safe, even from Master-level Legilimens."
For a moment, silence fell between the four of them. Harry stared at Luna in surprise, trying to process what she had just said. Hermione's fork paused mid-air, her brows knitting together in disbelief, while Ron let out a low whistle.
"Bloody hell," Ron whispered, shaking his head slowly as he gawked at Luna. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"
Luna merely smiled, her eyes twinkling with that familiar dreamy look as if she hadn't just casually dropped a bombshell on them. Hermione, on the other hand, looked mildly annoyed, her eyes darting from Luna to Harry with a mix of frustration and confusion.
Harry, still reeling from Luna's revelation, put on his ring once more, his mind racing. He leaned back in his seat, casting a quick glance around the hall. Pansy was still stuck to the table, though the professors were finally making some progress in peeling her off. Snickers of laughter echoed from every corner, but no one dared point fingers at any potential culprits.
"We don't know anything," Harry repeated, more to himself than to Ron.
Ron nodded vigorously, his face pale. "Yeah, nothing at all. Absolutely nothing."
xxxxx
"I'm sorry!" Hermione whined, her voice tinged with guilt as she hurriedly tried to scrub Draco's hair clean. She was using her hands to work through the thick, foamy suds, her fingers slipping through the silver-blonde strands as she massaged the soap in. Draco, however, was in no mood for her attempts to help. He twisted away from her hands with a sharp huff, his body language rigid with frustration. The damp strands of his hair clung to his forehead, dripping water into the tub.
"Just shut up! You almost caught Astoria in your prank!" Draco hissed, glaring up at her through the strands of hair that still clung to his face. His pale cheeks were flushed pink, whether from embarrassment or anger, Hermione couldn't tell.
The Room of Requirement had generously transformed itself into a lavish bathroom, with an oversized tub and shelves lined with various potions and products for hair care. The space was warm, a faint steam rising from the hot water in the tub, the scent of lavender soap filling the air. The walls shimmered with a soft, magical light, casting a soothing glow across the room.
Ron stood nearby, hands soapy from the scrubbing, trying to stifle his amusement. Harry, though focused on cleaning, had a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. They were all too aware of how angry Draco was, but the sight of him sulking over his hair was just too funny to ignore.
"I forgot that girl was sitting close to you! I should've warned you!" Hermione added, her tone softening in an attempt to placate Draco, though her words were met with nothing but an annoyed grunt.
Ron, not bothering to hold back any longer, let out a low chuckle. "Didn't even promise not to do it again," he muttered under his breath, casting a sly glance at Hermione.
"Shut up!" Harry hissed in warning, though he was clearly holding back laughter as well.
A few bubbles floated up from the tub as they scrubbed, clinging to the edges of Draco's once pristine hair. His usually immaculate blonde locks were now a mess of soapy, wet tangles. The sight was enough to send Harry and Ron into muffled fits of laughter, though they tried to stifle it. Draco, however, remained livid, glaring at his reflection in the water as though it had personally wronged him.
They had been scrubbing his hair for what felt like ages now, rinsing it out over and over again. Fortunately, after nearly three rounds of shampoo and soap, the black paint that had stained Draco's hair was finally starting to fade. His usual sleek, silver-blonde color was beginning to return, though it still held a slightly dulled hue from all the scrubbing.
"I said I'm sorry!" Hermione repeated, though now there was a hint of mischief in her tone. "I'll make sure to warn you next time I do it again."
Draco's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "Next time?" he hissed, though before he could launch into a tirade, Ron huffed beside him.
"Is it all gone yet?" Draco asked, sounding as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
"Yeah, pretty much," Ron said with a shrug, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at Harry, who was now inspecting the last of the soap suds clinging to Draco's hair.
"Here, let me help dry it," Harry offered, pulling out his wand to cast a drying charm. But before he could even mutter the incantation, Draco jerked his head away violently, splashing water onto the floor in the process.
"No! No drying charm!" Draco snapped, his eyes wide in alarm.
"What? But it's wet!" Harry said, clearly confused.
"I know!" Draco retorted, his tone exasperated. He carefully patted his hair with a towel, gently squeezing out the excess water. "But I let it air dry. It makes it easier to put on some of my hair care products when it's close to drying." His voice took on a haughty edge as though this were common knowledge, though the others clearly didn't share his concern for maintaining a perfectly polished appearance.
Hermione stifled a giggle as she watched Draco fuss over his hair like it was a priceless artifact. Harry just rolled his eyes, muttering something about 'pureblood nonsense' under his breath, while Ron tried to contain his laughter as he wiped the water off his own robes.
Their attention turned back to the couch where Luna sat, completely unbothered by the chaos around her. She was lounging comfortably, legs tucked beneath her as she lazily studied the rune clusters Ron had given her that morning. The serene look on her face, coupled with the faint hum she made as she traced her fingers over the runes, gave off the impression that she hadn't noticed the whirlwind of activity taking place around her.
Draco glanced at her briefly, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface, but for some reason, he couldn't quite muster the energy to be angry with Luna. There was something about her unfazed demeanor that made his frustration feel almost pointless.
"Oh, your hair is back to normal again," Luna remarked, her voice light and airy as she observed Draco's now clean, albeit still damp, hair.
Draco simply rolled his eyes in response, not bothering to dignify her comment with an answer. He continued to towel-dry his hair, though the anger that had flared so fiercely earlier seemed to be dissipating.
Luna stood up from the couch, gracefully slinging her bag over her shoulder. She turned toward Draco and Ron, her gaze distant, though her tone was matter-of-fact. "By the way, I don't know why, but I'm inclined to tell you that a storm is hitting Hogwarts in about… six hours and thirty-two minutes."
Ron and Draco exchanged wide-eyed glances, excitement creeping onto their faces at the prospect of a storm.
Harry sighed as he hoisted his own bag over his shoulder, already sensing where this was going. "Make sure to be in separate rooms, you two," he said, pulling Hermione to her feet, who looked momentarily confused.
"What? Where are we going?" Hermione asked, glancing between Harry and the others.
"It's the last step of the Animagus ritual," Harry smirked, a glint of excitement lighting up his green eyes.
Hermione's mouth fell open in surprise, her eyes widening. "I want to observe!"
"We can't," Harry replied firmly. "Their animal forms might accidentally attack us until it's stabilized." He turned to Draco and Ron, giving them a nod. "Take care, you two. We'll check up on you in the morning."
Draco and Ron grinned, their excitement barely contained as they nodded back. Harry, Luna, and Hermione left the Room of Requirement, the enchanted door sealing itself behind them with a soft click.
Once they were in the hallway, Harry turned to Luna, who had been quietly trailing behind them. "How did you know about the ritual and that those two were doing it?"
"They smelled like mandrake leaves from time to time," Luna said, her voice dreamy but with a hint of knowing. "It's not a great snack, so I assumed they've been doing the ritual."
Without another word, Luna skipped off, her footsteps light as she disappeared around the corner, leaving Harry and Hermione standing alone in the corridor.
Hermione glanced up at Harry, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "You're not angry with me, are you, Harry?"
Harry smirked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Why? Did you do something bad?"
Hermione's smile widened as she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a playful murmur. "She deserved it, right?"
Harry shrugged, grinning as he met her gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Hermione's eyes sparkled mischievously as she leaned in even closer, her lips brushing just barely against his ear. "I just don't like it when something takes what's mine," she whispered, her voice filled with possessiveness.
Harry let out a soft laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips, short but filled with warmth. "I quite like my possessive witch."
They both laughed softly, the sound echoing down the empty corridor as they walked away, side by side.