Chapter 1

You are incredible.

Thank you for all that you’ve done.

Always, yours

X

Hermione frowned in consternation at the slip of paper, recently retrieved from page ninety-seven of her potions textbook. She didn’t recognise the handwriting, and with no signature attached she had little idea who could have slipped the note to her. It was a kind gesture all the same, however, and the knowledge that someone had been so thoughtful made the corners of her mouth twitch upwards in pleasure.

Currently in her seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts, Hermione was already feeling the strain of the looming NEWTs. Surprisingly, however, some of her previously-less-than-studious classmates had also had a change of heart where exam results were concerned. Perhaps the knowledge that time at Hogwarts was running out, combined with the realisation that any half decent job required a passing grade, had kicked-started even the slowest of them. So, in addition to her usual study schedule and revision timetable, Hermione was also tutoring a selection of her peers in their failing classes. It was a drain on her energies certainly, but Hermione regarded it both good work experience should she decide on a career in teaching, and excellent revision practice to aid her own knowledge.

Deciding that the note could have easily been from Neville, Seamus, Lavender or even Justin Finch-Fletchely, if he had access to her Potions textbook at some point during the day, Hermione gazed at it fondly for another second before tucking it into her bedside table where she kept a few other sentimental keepsakes. She wouldn’t embarrass whoever it was by asking around, as they obviously wished to remain anonymous, but it was lovely to be appreciated once in a while. After all, Merlin knows Harry and Ron had never thought to do something similar in the seven years she’d been saving them from the sticky situations within which they managed to entwine themselves.

The next morning, after completing her usual morning adulations, Hermione descended to breakfast, sliding into a seat next to Ron, and across from Harry.

“Morning!” she addressed them, brightly. Then, catching sight of the angry scowl plastered across Harry’s forehead, added, “What’s happened?” with foreboding.

“Voldemort!” Harry spat, pushing his chair back violently from the table. “When is it ever anything else?”

He stalked away from the table as Hermione turned helplessly to Ron with a questioning glance. He shrugged in a ‘what can we do’ sort of way, and pushed the morning edition of the Daily Prophet towards her. Trepidation warred in her gut, as Hermione took a quick gulp of pumpkin juice and lowered her eyes to the front page.



FAMILY OF FIVE MURDERED; WIZARDING WORLD ASKS ‘WHERE IS OUR SAVIOUR?!’

The Gilbert family are to be the latest victims in a string of horrific murders purported to be carried out by You-Who-Who and his followers. The bodies of Gregory Gilbert, 39, his wife Annie Gilbert, 37, and their three children, Maggie 6, Jack, 4, and Abigail, just 18 months, were discovered at their residence late last night. Consultation with officials of the Auror division concluded that details of their deaths were too horrific for disclosure to the general public. There is no known motive for the killings which Auror’s are referring to simply as ‘glory murders’.

In the wake of such news, this reporter asks whether all measures possible are being taken to protect wizarding citizens from such violence? Is the Minister truly concerned with our safety, or is he more anxious over the well-being of one young man with the power to stop this tragedy? Harry Potter, who showed the ability to defeat the Dark Lord at one year old, remains closeted away at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under the careful eye of Albus Dumbledore, while the death toll in wizarding Britain rises by the day-



Hermione broke off, unable to stomach any more. Growling in disgust, she screwed up the paper into an angry ball, before throwing it onto the table in front of her.

“What a load of garbage!” she spat, enraged. “Honestly, as if anyone would ever believe such lies!”

Ron looked up at her from his scrambled eggs. “They do though. That’s half the problem, isn’t it?” Seeing Hermione furiously open her mouth to retort, he hurried on. “Not that I don’t think they’re all barmy mine �“ ‘cos I do, you know that - s’just, they don’t know Harry like us, do they?”

Hermione started at him for a moment. “No, they don’t.” She sighed heavily and added, “If they did, if they knew him even slightly, then they’d think twice before putting him through this.”

Ron nodded sagely, and Hermione couldn’t help but watch her friend for a few more seconds. A blush started to creep up his neck, and self-conscious, Ron scrubbed at his cheek for a moment before asking defensively, “What? Do I have food on me, or something?”

She smiled. “No... I was just thinking. You know, Ron, sometimes time catches up with me and I realise how much we’ve all grown up recently.”

He gave a tired shrug. “It’s a war, isn’t it? We could hardly stay kids forever.”

“No, I suppose not. It’s funny, part of me wishes with my whole heart that you, Harry and I could stay exactly how we’ve always been; young, excited by life, constantly getting into too much mischief. Then again, part of me thinks that as we all grow up we might find... something more than we were before.”

Ron continued to look at her quizzically. “So, me getting older... it could be a good thing?”

She smiled softly across the table, and murmured, “It could be a very good thing.”

Quickly, she gathered up a few pieces of hot toast and turned to leave the Great Hall. Ron, on the other hand, dived across the table to fetch a large pitcher of pumpkin juice, which was completely inadequate in hiding the blooming blush spreading across his cheeks.

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The grass crunched gently under Hermione’s feet as she walked across the sloping lawns to the edge of the black lake. Sliding down the side of a large rock to land gently on her bottom, she crossed her legs neatly and passed the perfectly wrapped handful of buttered toast to the dark-haired boy sitting next to her.

“Thought you might be hungry,” she murmured gently.

Harry didn’t turn to look at her, but he did snake out a hand to snag the food bundle.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly.

He sighed, and rubbed a hand against the lightening shaped scar that had caused so many problems. “No,” came the dejected response. Then, after a moment’s pause, “Yes... I don’t know, maybe. You’ve heard it all before anyway.”

“Perhaps,” she answered, staring into the lapping waters before her, “but that doesn’t mean you don’t need to tell me again.”

He sighed. “I’m just so tired of it all, Hermione. I’m tired of people looking up to me as if I’m the saviour of the Wizarding World, and I’m tired of feeling guilty for not saving all those people. I’m tired of constantly looking over my shoulder and watching what I say in case someone’s around who’s going to try and kill me, or my friends, or someone else that I love. I’m just... I’m just so bloody tired, Hermione.”

“You’re not responsible for those deaths, Harry.”

“Yeah, I am. And we both know it too, so let’s stop pretending, Hermione,” he fired up, angrily. “I’m the only one who can kill Voldemort, so until I get around to that pleasant little task those people are my responsibility!”

She turned to face him swiftly, taking both hands in hers. “Harry, if there is one thing I say this morning that gets through to you, let it be this; you are not responsible for those deaths. You didn’t point the wand-“

“But I didn’t stop the person pointing the wand either, did I?”

“You didn’t murder those people, Harry, directly or indirectly. No sane human being would expect a seventeen year old boy who hasn’t even left school yet to be able to dispatch Voldemort!”

“Oh cheers, Hermione. That makes me feel a lot better about the whole ‘kill or be killed’ problem!”

“There is no doubt in my mind that you will be strong enough to match him �“ but not yet, not yet, Harry.” Seeing him about to retort, she charged ahead before he could draw breath. “And there’s absolutely no shame in that. Would you pit Neville against Voldemort now, before he’s even taken his NEWTs? Or Dean? Or Seamus?”

“No,” Harry admitted grudgingly.

“Well then-“

“But that reporter-“

“Harry, you shouldn’t give a rat’s arse about anything written in that rag they call a newspaper!”

Harry blinked at her in shock. “I think Ron’s been having a bad effect on you...”

“Be that as it may,” she waved away his comment, flippantly. “The point is that the only opinions you should consider right now are those from people who know and care about you�“ me, Ron, Ginny, Dumbledore, and the rest of the Weasleys. And let me tell you, none of us believe you are being the least bit cowardly or selfish or whatever else they said about you. In fact, I think you’re being incredibly smart; staying safe, learning, and preparing for what is to come.”

She looked at him for a moment, before adding drolly, “I’d take the smart compliment while you can and run; knowing you as I do, it might not be given again.”

Harry cracked a smile, but still looked unsure.

“Sirius would agree with me, Harry, I know he would.” She squeezed his shoulder gently. “So would your parents.”

He swallowed and ducked his head. “Thanks, Hermione.”

She nodded, and looked away again to allow him a few moments of privacy, watching idly as the glassy surface of the lake was fractured violently by an errant tentacle.

Harry tapped her gently on the knee, disrupting her thoughts. “Hermione, I err... I just want to say, thanks,” he bobbed uncomfortably. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”

She smiled gently back at him, before clambering to her feet. “Come on, we better get back. Good friend I may be, but I’ll thump you if you make me late for class.”

Harry chuckled and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Together they strode back up towards the waiting castle.

Chapter 2

“Thank Merlin for that!” Ron Weasley exclaimed loudly, only seconds after Professor McGonagall had finished rounding up her class lecture. “I thought this day would never end! Come on you slow pokes, let’s get out of here.”

Smiling at the familiar relief exuding from her red-headed friend, Hermione obligingly packed her bag and the trio joined the throng of jostling classmates at the door. Unexpectedly, the close proximity of so many eager-to-escape students became painful as somebody’s elbow dug sharply into her side. Unable to identify the culprit, Hermione sighed in relief as the crowd reached over-flow point and spilled out into the corridor, quickly dividing into four groups of students heading back to their respective common rooms.

“Game of chess, Harry?” Ron offered, as the three of them clambered through the Fat Lady’s portrait.

“Sure, why not,” Harry shrugged in agreement. “Today’s as good a day as any to finally wipe that winning smirk from your face.”

Ron burst out laughing, and clapped his friend on the shoulder while shaking his head in pity. “Mate... you can try!” He glanced across at Hermione. “You gonna watch?”

She huffed in response and folded her arms across her chest. “Ron, as thrilling as it would undoubtedly be to see you preen while you beat Harry for the fifteenth time this week-“

“Hey!” piped up Harry, indignantly. “I’m not that bad!”

“- I do have other things to do with my time - study for instance, exams are only six months away, you realise?”

Ron rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “How could I with you around?”

Ignoring him, she raised her chin and climbed the stairs to her dorm room. After gathering together her charms textbook, a few dozen sheaves of blank parchment and her favourite quill, Hermione shrugged out of her school robes, opting instead to snuggle into an extra-large Muggle sweatshirt which always helped her study.

Folding her robes carefully so that they were ready for the following morning, Hermione frowned as one of the pockets crackled at her. Intrigued, she slipped a hand inside and drew out a small note, very similar to the one she had received only this morning.


Your kindness towards others is inspirational.

Never forget how wonderful a friend you are.

Always, yours

X


Hermione’s breath caught for a second, and she paused, repeating the words over to herself before she felt a slow smile spread languidly across her face. Whirling around, she grabbed up her textbook and rushed back down the stairs to the common room.

Hurrying across the room she knelt down by Harry, pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head, and leant down to whisper in his ear. “Thank you, Harry; you don’t know how much this means to me!”

Harry, in response, jerked around and inched warily back from her. “Hermione? What-“

“It’s okay,” she murmured, “I don’t mind if you’re embarrassed about it �“ I won’t say anything. I just wanted to say thank you �“ for thinking of me.”

“But... But...” Harry stuttered. “What-“

“It’s okay,” she murmured again, and, smiling secretively, moved away to curl up in her favourite armchair by the fireplace.

In the periphery of her vision she caught Ron, looking very red faced indeed, lean rather aggressively over the chessboard. “What the hell was that about?”

Harry held his hands up in supplication, looking completely bewildered. “Beats me, mate.” He cast another worried look in her direction, and added conspiratorially, “Perhaps it’s that time of the month, eh?”

Hermione chuckled to herself. Boys. Although she did privately congratulate Harry on his acting skills; perhaps he was growing up too, after all.

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Some time later her studying was interrupted by a gentle brush against her sleeve. Geoffrey Fallow, a new seventh year inducted at the beginning of the school year, sat down next to her.

“Hey Hermione,” he greeted politely. She smiled and nodded back to him, reluctant to break away from her Charms work.

“I just wanted to come say thanks for helping me study last night.”

“You’re very welcome,” she returned warmly. “You had that Arithmancy re-test today, didn’t you? How did it go?”

“Well, I don’t want to brag, but...” He chuckled suddenly, looking smug. “Who am I kidding, I love to brag! Let’s just say Vector’s face will be a picture when she grades it!”

Hermione smiled. “That’s really good, Geoff. I’m so proud of you.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you though,” he replied, looking intently at her. “You made all the difference.”

Hermione tutted, and flicked a hand flippantly through the air. “I didn’t do anything except point you in the right direction. The brain behind it is all you. Besides,” she added, her tone softening slightly, “it can’t be easy starting Hogwarts late like you are.”

He swallowed and looked away from her.

Curiosity piqued, Hermione carried on. “New classes, new teachers, new schoolmates; it all adds to the pressure. Frankly, I’d be amazed if you hadn’t had any problems.”

“Yeah, well, thanks anyway,” he said awkwardly.

“My pleasure.”

Silence fell, and Hermione searched his face for a few seconds, wondering whether she should carry on with the questions she dearly wished to ask.

“Geoff-“

“Look, I’d better go,” he interrupted suddenly, standing up. “Thanks again, Hermione.”

“Oh, ok,” she murmured. “If you ever need-“

But he was already striding away towards the stairs and Hermione let her breath out in a whoosh, the ending to her sentence trailing behind unheard.

“-someone to talk to...”

She flicked idly through the next chapter of her charms book, unable to focus properly with the ring of unanswered mysteries zipping through her brain. She didn’t have long to think, however, before Ron flounced up, a scowl already embedded in his features. Hermione sighed, knowing that expression far too well after seven years of close friendship. This would undoubtedly be Ron at his worst; an encounter she never relished.

“What were you talking to that tosser for?” he sneered, plunking himself down ungracefully in the chair Geoffrey had just vacated.

“Because he’s my friend, Ron. Simple concept really �“ friends like to talk to each other, just like you and I are doing now.”

He missed, or chose to ignore, her sarcasm.

“Oh come on, Hermione, you hardly know the guy!”

“So?” she asked, feeling anger prickle her belly. Taking a deep breath she attempted to soothe herself; experience had taught her that these frictions ended better if at least one of them was calm. “I don’t recall knowing you particularly well when we first befriended each other. In fact, if I remember rightly, you were a first class git in the beginning. Geoffrey, on the other hand, has been nothing but pleasant to me.”

“Geoffrey has been nothing but pleasant to me,” Ron imitated childishly. “Grow up, Hermione, how do you think a Death Eater would act if he was trying to get information out of you. He’s probably a spy sent in by Voldemort or something!”

“Ronald! How dare you!” she retorted angrily, calmness be damned. “Not everyone is an agent of Voldemort. It’s attitudes like yours that are giving him such a hard time �“ half the school won’t even talk to him.”

“Well, you can’t blame them, can you?” Ron argued. “Haven’t you noticed the number of Muggleborns that haven’t come back this year?”

“Of course I have, Ron,” she uttered, very quietly. “Bypassing the fact that, as Head Girl, I’m responsible for these students, did you really expect me not to notice the missing ones?” When he didn’t reply, she continued coldly, “Well, let me make it clearer for you, shall I? Starting with the first years; Mandy Ecklesborough of Ravenclaw, Justin Shenton and Hannah Claydon of Hufflepuff and Dave Bystin of Gryffindor. Out of the second years, Lousie Armsley and Frank Fornby of Ravenclaw-“

“Okay, okay,” Ron muttered, “I get your point.” He shuffled awkwardly for a second. “Sorry.”

Hermione said nothing, but nodded very slightly, accepting it.

Ron ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. “Look, I’m just saying, with everything that’s happening at the moment, you just can’t trust strangers.”

“Well, that’s where we differ then, Ron,” she replied, tightly. “You see, I believe that is just the sort of ignorant and judgemental view a Death Eater would take.”

Ron’s head shot up and his glare returned. “Now is not the time to be pretend to be all moral and good, Hermione. For Merlin’s sake, no one else has ever been admitted to Hogwarts late before and then suddenly he appears all la-de-da and we’re expected to believe this is normal?”

“Actually, Ronald, there a quite a few examples of transfer students, who have either arrived from other wizarding institutions or from home-schooling, detailed in ‘Hogwarts; a History’. Had you ever bothered to read it, you might have known that.”

Ron rolled his eyes and glared even more. In retrospect, Hermione thought, perhaps that had been a little patronising.

“Well, what about the fact that he refuses to say anything at all about why he’s joined the school now, or where he was before?”

“Perhaps he’s a private person. Had that fundamentally simple thought ever occurred to you?”

Ron folded his arms defiantly across his chest. “Fine, be like that.” He turned to walk away from her, but then his temper seemed to crack completely and he whirled back to face her.

“It’s like Krum all over again! This time it’s not secrets about some stupid contest he’s getting out of you, it’s a war!”

“I never- How dare you!” Hermione shrieked, completely enraged and utterly unable to form a sentence. Taking a calming breath, she coldly continued, “Firstly, I never told Victor a thing about Harry. Secondly, how dare you even suggest I would compromise this war effort-“

“Dunno, I’m sure lover-boy can be quite persuasive,” Ron returned, voice twisted in spite.

“How dare - oh, as if this morning I even entertained the idea that you could have grown up!”

“Whatever,” Ron said, turning away and stumping angrily in the direction of the stairs.

Hermione dearly wanted to hit him, but placated herself with punching a cushion on the chair next to Harry instead. Turning to her black-haired friend she opened her mouth to vent when he cut her off.

“Oi, don’t get me involved,” he said, holding his hands up. “I’m tired of mediating between you two �“ you’ll just have to figure it out by yourselves.”

“Fine,” she said shortly, and, shaking with anger, managed somehow to climb the stairs to her room. Tearing off her clothes, she started to change quickly into her pyjamas, determined to go to sleep and think nothing more on Ronald Weasley. Just as she reached for the bedcovers, however, she noticed a white scrap of paper lying innocently upon her pillow.


You are too beautiful for words.

Those that surround you do nothing to deserve you.

Always, yours

X


Hermione felt a chill she couldn’t identify sweep down her spine. Clutching the note tightly, she glanced around the room. There was no one else present, however, and nothing seemed out of place. Still, only herself, Lavender and Parvati should have access to this room �“ and she found it hard to believe such a series of notes had been penned by either of the girls.

Slightly unsettled, Hermione reasoned that either someone was being very nice and one of her roommates had let them into the room, or she was the object of a practical joke. Either way, neither would do her lasting harm �“ unlike Ronald. Her fury returning, Hermione crumpled the scrap of paper and tossed it into her bedside drawer, before climbing into bed and pondering the many different methods she could use to retaliate against her one-time best friend.