HP AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author warning: for the first few chapters, there is two distinct time threads going on. One concerns Hermione, and the other Harry. There is a few switches between the two, so readers, be attentive! A clue: when Harry is present, it is the thread relating to him (I mention that because Hermione appears in Harry’s thread). Good reading!
Chapter 1
The pain of moving on
"The month of August is really beautiful this year", Hermione muttered to herself as she looked out the window, trying desperately to contain her tears. Her heart was aching, and she was doing her best to control the slight trembling that had just a few moments ago taken hold of her. She had just been profoundly hurt, and didn't know why. As the plane gained in altitude, she could see the meadows and the hills in the distance, and was wondering why the path she was choosing should be so painful.
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It had been an excruciatingly difficult decision, one that had almost driven her insane for weeks. She had asked her parents, trusted teachers, and even Dumbledore, at first. She had then consulted some members of the Order, and nobody had helped. Everyone had been quite nice about it, but "It's your choice" was the common, recurring theme, and she had felt like everybody wanted to keep out of her business, and let her make this crucial decision on her own. Ron had avoided the subject altogether, and she had been hesitant to talk to him about it. Their relationship had gotten somewhat… complicated during their last two years at Hogwarts, mainly due to the fact that they had dated for most of the sixth year. They had more or less broken up during the following summer - but without actually doing it or talking about it. Their final year had been mostly occupied by preparing for final NEWT exams, and by the ongoing conflict between the Order and Voldemort that had finally climaxed into what the Prophecy had said: Harry, barely escaping with his life, had managed to vanquish Voldemort by breaking, after two days of sheer mental battle, the Cruciatus curse that his mortal enemy and two other Death Eaters had managed to inflict upon him. Hermione had been the first to get to Harry, left half naked, bloody, dazed and confused, and shaking violently with pain on the edge of the Forbidden forest. It had taken him a month to recover, and she could still see, at times, the throbbing pain that he still felt whenever he remembered the events. The healers of St-Mungo's had told him he would suffer the repercussions of this encounter for the rest of his life.
It was nevertheless Harry who had helped her decide. She had been at his side every day during his recovery, and during the third week of his stay at St-Mungo's Hospital - seeing he was feeling much better - she had decided to bring up her dilemma.
"Well, it looks like we're gonna have to choose between job offers soon."
Harry looked at her, bemused. "Do you mean you already have some?"
"Well yes!" she said enthusiastically. "Don't you?"
Harry sighed, and suddenly realized that his vision of what the future might hold was rather narrow. Ever since Lord Voldemort's return, he had been living one day at a time.
"I've been rather preoccupied with more urgent things", muttered Harry harshly. "Like fighting Lord Voldemort, for example."
"Of course, Harry, how insensitive of me," said Hermione mortified at the implication of what she had just said. A flush of pink slowly appeared on her cheeks.
Harry regretted his words right away. He didn't want to take away the sense of accomplishment she may have felt; yet, at the same time, looking for employment had not even crossed his mind during his last school year. He felt bad - the ongoing war of the last three years had also taken away some softness from him, and he had answered rather aggressively.
"I'm sorry Hermione, I didn't mean it like that", Harry said with a forced smile. He knew that behind the strong façade she put up most of the time, there was a soft, vulnerable side to Hermione - and he despised himself when that softer side was shaken because of something he said or did. "I mean, it's great that so many people would want to have you working for them, they will be in for a treat! Tell me what the offers are! "
"Well, it's not like there's a crowd lining up, but here's the deal", she said timidly. "The first offer is right here. Right here at Hogwarts, I mean. McGonagall is thinking of switching subject in a year or two - you now, she finally wants a new challenge after some forty years! She would take me on as an assistant-teacher for her Transfiguration class. When she switches, I would become the new Transfiguration teacher."
"Wow!! That's great." Harry imagined himself in a class taught by Hermione, and smirked. He then frowned, like he usually did when he was thinking hard about something.
"What's the matter? Spill it, I know you too well, what's wrong?" Hermione said, apprehensive about what he was about to say, yet at the same time was hoping for an insight that would help her with her gut-wrenching decision.
"Nothing, really. Teaching would kind of be THE logical route for you, wouldn't it? But don't you feel like seeing the world, instead of staying here? That's what I would do myself. I've loved my stay at Hogwarts, don't get me wrong, but I long for something else now. Besides, our seven years here have not been what you could call - uneventful - and I think you'd miss the adventure."
"Well, there's the other job offer. Remember Viktor Krum?"
"Of course, dear ol' Vik! Still after you, is he?" Harry said with a malicious grin, knowing this was bound to set her off.
"Get off it", Hermione answered irritably, "I have enough of Ron to make snide comments whenever he hears the name. He could never -" Hermione suddenly caught herself, as if she hadn't wanted to start that sentence. Harry noticed the sudden shift, but continued looking at her as she seemed to be trying to get back to what she had been saying. He was definitely curious about what had happened between Ron and Hermione, but didn't want to pry.
Hermione continued. "Well, after he graduated from Durmstrang, he started his own broom company, and made a fortune overnight. He called me last week to offer me a research position in his company, something to do with the charms needed to make his particular make of broom more aerodynamic."
Harry laughed, with a hint of glee in his eyes. "It may be useful to remember that you're not the best flyer, Hermione!"
"Well, they have people to test the brooms, if I cannot manage it myself, you know."
Harry suddenly paused, and seemed to realize something. "What if Viktor's interest is more than professional? Didn't he almost have you kidnapped, that summer after our sixth year? You're my friend, Hermione, and I wouldn't let him do that again."
Hermione rolled her eyes, and sighed heavily, discouraged at the question that obviously had been asked many times before. "We sorted that out already! It was a misunderstanding on you and Ron's part, and I didn't feel like giving details at the time. Ron was obviously jealous, and you were too protective". Hermione seemed suddenly perplexed by her own comment about Harry.
Harry's mood suddenly dropped, a burst of anxiety finding its way to the pit of his stomach. "So Romania and Viktor's charms are pulling on you, are they?" He started trembling. Somehow, the thought of Hermione working for Krum in far away Romania was grabbing at something inside.
"I haven't decided anything yet, I'm so unsure." Having noticed Harry's tremors, even though he was trying to hide them, she continued. "I probably should go, you seem tired. You've been through a lot, and here I am burdening you with my stupid choice. I'll see you."
She got up to go, and kissed him on the cheek, as she often did. Harry took this opportunity to whisper in her ear: "Nothing about you is stupid, Hermione. You'll make the right decision."
As she left, he caught himself watching her. As moralizing and self-righteous as she could be sometimes, there was a sweet side to her, especially visible in the way she cared for her friends - more to the point, in the way she worried about him. He would miss her a lot, if she decided to leave.
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Harry was running, trying to get free from the maze. Right, then straight, then left. He kept hitting the same dead end, and yet, the piercing screams were getting louder and louder. He then heard it: "NOOOOO, PLEASE ! DON'T, NOOOO. HARRY, HELP – aargh!!" The shriek was suddenly interrupted by a loud thump, too much like the sound of a huge potato sack dropped from one's shoulders directly to the ground. Still running, Harry managed at last to reach the center of the maze, where the cup stood and the screams had been coming from. Too late - Krum was already there, standing over a limp body, a green halo still glittering at the end of his wand. From where he stood, paralyzed, Harry could only see the tangled mass of bushy hair on the ground underneath Krum's muscular frame, and through the curly and bloody strands, the terrified, empty look of those bright brown eyes that had seemed to be looking for him instants before... Instantly, he was sure that ice was now running through is veins, and that his whole body had been cast into a paralyzing coffin of cold, freezing stone.
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" Harry screamed as he jumped up from his hospital bed, covered in sweat, shivering uncontrollably and panting as if he had just ran the 100 meter dash. Slowly, reality crept back in. It had just been a dream, a ghastly, horrible nightmare. The same one - it was the third night in a row. He didn't think it a coincidence that the day of his last conversation with Hermione had been followed by the first night where she had started "dying" in his sleep.
It was still dark, but the moonlight coming in from the skylight cast dancing shadows all over the walls. The clock on the side of his bed said 3:45 am. Harry wiped the sweat on his forehead with his forearm, wincing as he went over his scar. It was constantly painful, since his last battle with Voldemort. He was learning to live with the constant, dull and throbbing ache, and trying to function normally.
As Harry caught his breath and reflected upon his dream, he remembered it wasn't the first time that his obsessive fear of Hermione's passing had found a voice in his dreams. Remembering, he traced back the first of these occasional, yet vivid nightmares to the summer following their fifth year - year of the High Inquisitor - during which he had faced great dangers and lived intense emotions with Hermione at his side. During a brief moment in battle, he had really thought her to be dead. He remembered the ripping of his heart at the thought, for that instant in time, that he had lost his best friend forever.
Their relationship had changed, after that fifth year. Though it had seemed deeper because of what they had shared facing Voldemort, they had somewhat been estranged by circumstances, and by her and Ron's personal choices. During the following summer, Dumbledore had strongly insisted that he come to live at Twelve Grimmaud Place with other members of the Order, despite the painful memory of Sirius - and the Dursleys, of course, had been happy to give their blessing. When he had arrived, the first thing he had stumbled upon was Hermione and Ron holding hands, and announcing very awkwardly that they were, well, dating.
The sight had not been shocking to Harry. After all, he had noticed the tensions between Ron and Hermione. They were always bickering and fighting, but yet showed jealousy at each other's involvements with other people.
The relationship, however, had dramatically altered the dynamics of their friendship, and he had felt more or less isolated during the whole school year. That year of solitude had been illuminating in one aspect, though. For the first time, he had realized that his friendship with Ron was very different from his friendship with Hermione. It seemed that with Ron, it could only go skin deep. Sure, they were buddies, partners in crime, they shared a lot together, but it seemed to stop there. Hermione, on the other hand - and despite her tendency to be moralizing and judgemental - knew his thoughts, his worries, his hurts even, often before he could even verbalize them himself. He had always thought it came from the fact that she was a girl, and had generally brushed it aside, but now that he had been away from her most of the time, he noticed he missed her presence. He missed her.
Somehow, she is always the first face I see when I wake up from a life and death situation, Harry thought to himself. He had been trying to avoid thinking about this for the last three weeks, but memories of his last brush with death sent a shiver down his spine. Leaning back and staring at the moon, he recalled the incidents.
Voldemort and his Death eaters were surrounding the grounds of Hogwarts. There was no escaping this time, and the final conflict was unavoidable. They were all stuck inside the castle, ready to fight to their death, when Harry had an idea: if he could just run to the Forbidden Forest, and manage to rally Aragog, the giant spider, and his children, he could perhaps create a diversion; meanwhile members of the Order and students could switch from a defensive position to an offensive thrust for the final attack. Harry thought that if they could force the Death eaters into one area somewhere around the castle, they could then concentrate all their power and give a decisive blow to Voldemort's army. Ron and Hermione were strongly against the idea, since it would mean that Harry would have to be an open target from the moment he'd pass the castle door to get outside. Harry was a step ahead. Before his friends could say anything, he ran to the Gryffindor tower and grabbed his Firebolt. He opened the window, and jumped out as Ron was stepping into their dormitory, screaming, "Don't do it Harry, you'll get killed!"
He got into a high speed dive, the warm summer wind rushing his face, and immediately headed towards Hagrid's cabin, in the back of which he planned to enter the Forest. This was exactly the kind of blunder Voldemort had been waiting for. He knew Harry was keen to rash, impulsive and falsely "heroic" moves, and surrounding the castle had been a strategic step into forcing Harry in a position where he would sooner or later make a mistake.
"I'm almost there," he thought, "C'mon, just a bit faster," he said to himself as a leaned forward on his broom as much as he could.
And then the booming voice came, echoing in the distance. "CRUCIO!" A blinding flash of reddish light appeared out of nowhere on his left side, and he was instantly overtaken by unfathomable pain, as if thousands of white hot knives had just been simultaneously plunged into his flesh. He fell from his broom, which had been shooting at high speed about ten feet high above the ground. Harry landed hard on the grassy meadow just before the entrance to the Forest, writhing with pain, as two other voices resonated in the distance, almost in unison. "Crucio!" Harry had now the distinct impression of being milled between two enormous boulders of uneven, jagged-edged rock, and that he was being skinned alive in the process.
Harry decided he wouldn't go without a fight. If his number was up, he would die as a warrior, just as Sirius had done. But his body had already begun to shut down, his brain unable to process the intensity of the pain that was upon him. Blinded, he could no longer see where he was - but just as if time had suspended its course, his thoughts slowly came into a strange focus, and images from his life started appearing in his mind, as if he were watching a movie : he saw his parents, loving and smiling, then Hagrid, bringing him the letter of admittance to Hogwarts; soon he was on the Hogwarts Express, and witnessed the scene of his first meeting with Ron, followed by the unusual encounter with a high-nosed, snobby and condescending girl that was looking for Neville Longbottom's toad. Somehow, his thoughts locked on that face. It was changing though. Slowly, the large teeth were being replaced by a more proportioned, more natural, and less pronounced overbite. The mass of bushy hair was slowly evolving into a more groomed, wavy, stylish head of hair. The plump, round face narrowed and cheekbones, ever glowing with a subtle tint of pink, appeared. The eyes, however, remained the same. Big, bright brown eyes, that you could get lost into, that could either show you unconditional love and unrestrained approval - or utter disdain. He had focused on the eyes, and forgetting everything else, he had just thought to himself, "NO! I will look into these eyes again."
The pain suddenly lifted somewhat. "I can fight this", he thought to himself, and concentrating with all his might on the eyes, he fought back. Not aware of time, Harry forced himself to think, "No, I will not be defeated." And after two days of this intense battle of the mind, there was an apocalyptic explosion of white light.
Everything after that was somewhat of a foggy sequence of memories. He remembered seeing Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, hovering over him. The Cruciatus curse had been broken, and he had slowly had regained his sight. He still couldn't move, though: every physical part of his body had been severely put to the test, and he had soon started convulsing. The last thing he had seen, before waking up in the hospital, were - again - those brown eyes. They had been filled with tears, and they had seemed to speak to him. "Harry, Harry, oh my God Harry, you can't be gone. I can't lose you, I - I love you." Everything had gone black after that, and he had woken up a week later in the hospital.
That face, those eyes, Harry knew it now, were Hermione's. She had saved him, in a way. But had she really said that, or had he imagined it?
Harry had mused the words in the days that had followed, and had concluded they hadn't been real. He remembered few details of his battle with Voldemort, and memories came back in little pieces.
The clock showed 4h00 am when Harry looked at it again.
"Once again, one of the few persons that really gets me is leaving me." Harry said out loud, and suddenly he felt more depressed than he had ever felt. It seemed people kept exiting his life, that loved ones' departures were the lyrics of the anthem of Harry Potter's existence - his parents had left him, and just recently Sirius. Hagrid had been forced to go into hiding in the last few months, and now... Hermione would probably be leaving him too.
Harry buried his face in his pillow, trying to go back to sleep. After an hour or so, he fell asleep, his face wet from the tears he could no longer hold back.