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: still two distinct time threads going on. Bear with me, there will converge at some point! Remember: Hermione appears in Harry’s time sequence!
Chapter 2
Undisclosed secrets
From the cloudless view she had from the airplane window, Hermione had been able to watch the sun set over the Swiss Alps. It was completely dark in the aircraft now, and she was grateful that she could easily conceal herself from the few passengers in the row across.
Her tears had turned to sobs, and she was trying very hard not to make a spectacle of herself. "Why did he say these things?" she wondered. "They're not true! Doesn't he know it was always for him, for Ron, never for me? How could he be so mean?"
She still could see the anger in Harry's eyes as she had left the airport terminal to catch her plane. She didn't understand: after all, she had made her final decision following their talk at the hospital. It seemed to her that Harry would have had no problem with her leaving "to see the world", as he had put it. Granted, they had issues to resolve in their relationship, especially considering their last meeting and what had happened after. But nothing had prepared her for this, or given her any subtle hint that something might have been so wrong.
But obviously, something had been. The biting words still echoed in her head.
"You're so selfish! From the first day that Ron and I met you, I knew you considered yourself above us, and I see now that you've come full circle! You're leaving without a care in the world for your friends. Well! Have a nice life, Hermione."
-----
Harry woke up the next day feeling exhausted. He was going to turn eighteen in a week, but he felt older - much older, in fact - and his body seemed tired beyond any ability to rejuvenate itself. For the first time since the beginning of his hospital recovery, he was letting himself be overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions he had forcibly and willingly put aside during his last year at Hogwarts. The truth was he had no energy left to contain them, and like a twig floating desperately on a rushing river, he was being overtaken - and perhaps even in danger of drowning under the intensity and force of his repressed feelings.
Thinking out loud, Harry attempted to sort his emotions. "Let's see, Sirius died at the end of our fifth year, then my friends left me alone for most of my sixth year for the sake of "romance" - the year, incidentally, when I had to come to terms with Sirius's death and was forced to kill in battle for the first time; and this year, well, again I nearly died in battle, Hagrid disappeared into hiding and is nowhere to be found, and now Hermione is leaving." Harry felt a surge of rage mixed with despair mounting within him, and yet crying was all he felt able to do.
Harry closed his eyes and whispered, to himself and to the walls, "What a mess you are, Potter."
His brooding was interrupted by Ron's entrance.
"Good morning, mate!" Ron had arrived for his usual morning chat, and seemed in a cheery mood today.
"Hi Ron," whispered Harry. The dark circles under his eyes did nothing to conceal that he had not slept much the night before.
"Man, you look absolutely terrible. What are they doing to you, aren't you supposed to get better?" Ron's face showed concern. "Are you getting better?"
"Yeah, I am, it's just. I haven't been sleeping well this week. Nightmares, you know?" Harry didn't really expect Ron to probe further, but to Harry's surprise, he did.
"Even with Vol-Vol-Voldemort gone, you still have them?" Ron had never been comfortable with saying the name, even now that this dark chapter of their lives was finally over.
Harry hesitated before answering. Doing so involved talking about a sensitive subject for Ron: Hermione. All three of them were still undoubtedly "best" friends, but there was a new form of 'political correctness' in the way Ron and Hermione interacted these days, and Harry didn't know just how far he could push the subject.
"Oh, the hell with it," Harry answered, tired of lying, weary of wasting energy on sparing other people's feelings. "The dream was not about Voldemort, Ron." Harry held his breath for a moment, then took the plunge. "It was about Hermione, mate."
"Hermione. Oh, right. Okay." Ron's jaw muscles started twitching nervously, and for a moment he repeatedly combed his hair back with his hand. He opened his mouth to continue, but oddly, nothing seemed to come out.
"It's not what you think, Ron," Harry interrupted urgently as Ron's face seemed to be positively loosing all hint of color. He was no longer combing his hair back, but rather tugging at it quite vigorously. "I dreamed she was killed; and by Viktor Krum, of all people. Can you imagine that? It was horrible, actually! ."
The only reaction on Ron's part was a faint "I see," his face becoming more and more aghast. Harry seized the opportunity, and said with a hushed voice, "How are you two doing, by the way? The last two years have been somewhat of a blur, and we never talked about you and her."
Eyebrows raised, Ron looked at Harry, sighed heavily, and slumped his shoulders. Harry could read remorse and confusion on his face, but at the same time he appeared relieved to finally have a chance to talk about it.
"Well, you know we dated during our sixth year. It started about a week before you arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, two summers ago. Hermione had come a few days early, and she told me she needed to talk to me. She took me upstairs to Buckbeak's room, and told me she liked me - just like that, out of the blue. Before I could say anything more, she kissed me. It felt nice, my heart started beating fast, and I kissed her back. After a while, I said to her, 'Does that mean we are - together?' She laughed, and her smile was so contagious that she didn't have to answer. That's when I noticed, I think for the second time since I had known her, just how pretty she really was. The day you arrived, though, she hurriedly told me that we had to keep it low profile, so that your feelings would not be hurt."
Harry wondered, "Why would my feelings have been hurt? I kinda had seen it coming."
"That's exactly what I told Hermione at that time!" Ron replied, surprised that he and Harry had been - at that time, anyway - on the same page. "But she kind of fumbled her words, and said something about you having just lost Sirius, feeling abandoned, etc., so I didn't go further. So in a nutshell, that's how we started 'dating'."
"Right," replied Harry, "I remember well enough! I got really close to Ginny, Luna and Neville that year."
The smile on Harry's face showed that he wasn't trying to make Ron feel bad. Nevertheless, Ron was well aware they he and Hermione had in fact left Harry to fend for himself that year. He felt somewhat guilty, but just like an infected, painful sore needing to be drained to heal, Ron needed to talk and would not stop - even if it meant making Harry feel uncomfortable.
He continued softly, "It was kind of weird, to say the truth. Sure, at the beginning it seemed to be 'romance', we held hands, we kissed. But then, we were just - Ron and Hermione, there was no sparks, no chemistry - we bickered and argued like we used to, she lectured me on my homework, I told her to get lost… Harry, I kid you not, at one point we were arguing, and I abruptly told her 'Oh stop it Ginny!' That's when I - in fact, we - realized we were only good friends trying to make it into something more."
"So you guys ended it or something?" Harry had been completely left out of the whole scenario, and now curiosity was getting the best of him.
"That's were it gets REALLY awkward, mate. Around May, we kind of both knew it was over. We had stopped meeting in private, we no longer exchanged 'love' notes, and generally tried to avoid one another. It wasn't difficult, since there was so much studying to be done for our final NEWT exams. Then, the year ended, we left for the summer holidays, and I suppose - still - it was the end of it. No owls, no visits, and then no mention of anything the next time we saw each other, when we met you at the Leaky Cauldron at the end of last summer."
"That's not right. Don't you think you two should talk it over, at least?" Harry suggested.
Ron pondered the idea for a moment. "Yeah, but I haven't had the heart to initiate that conversation, and neither has Hermione. We're in a stalemate position."
Harry smiled as he imagined Ron in front of a board of Wizard's chess - his favourite game - trying to figure out his next move in this crazy game of 'love.'
Suddenly, Ron looked at his watch. "Wow, I have to dash, mate, I've got to get ready for the tryouts!"
Harry already knew, from one of Ron's excited visit the week before, that he had been invited to the training camp of the Chutney's Cannons, his favourite professional Quidditch team.
"Go, then, and make us all proud!"
Ron left in a flash, leaving Harry to his reverie. He pondered why Hermione and Ron had not "worked out". Since their fourth year, when they had been unequivocally jealous of each other's date at the Yule ball, Harry had been convinced they had some kind of genuine love chemistry for each other.
"But then again, what do I know?" Harry admonished himself. "I had been so anxious to date Cho Chang, and when the chance came for that relationship to take off, everything went awry". Harry had more or less decided after Cho that dating would have to be put off. First of all, he just didn't share the whole excitement of his schoolmates about the whole process, and secondly, he had more pressing matters weighing down on him - self- preservation and fighting Voldemort being the topmost on the list.
"Perhaps," he thought, "that is also why Hermione did not connect well with Ron. She and I shared some pretty intense moments in battle - unfathomably more than Ron - and facing Voldemort does make everything else look so superficial."
His head was throbbing. He cautiously laid down to rest, nesting the back of his head comfortably on the palms of his outstretched hands.
He gazed at the ceiling. "Girls!" Harry mused out loud, lost in thoughts. "Maybe we scare them. In my case, it's not that difficult to do! It comes naturally! Hey, who wants a date with Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the one who killed Voldemort?” Lowering his voice, he continued, "Yeah, Harry Potter. The freak who lived."
"I know of one girl who doesn't think of you as a freak," a sweet girlish voice said, and Harry straightened up on his bed in a flash, recognizing at once the long flaming red hair floating around a malicious, conniving, freckled face.
"Er, hello Ginny. Ever heard of knocking?" Harry, for one rare moment in his life, blushed at the thought that Ginny might have heard him talk out loud.
"Well, the door was wide open, so I assumed I didn't need to," she said with a sly grin on her face. "I now see that you were having a pretty intense conversation with yourself!"
Harry attempted one of his most scary-looking face. "You must swear you'll never repeat anything you heard, or else..." He failed miserably, however, at containing a huge smile. He and Ginny had gotten closer in the last two years, since she had conveniently filled in for him as seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team when Umbridge had banned him from playing. They truly enjoyed each other's company. He felt safe with her, since she had assured him that her first year crush on Him was long gone by now.
Ginny replied with a well rehearsed, fake expression of terror on her colourful face. "Pleeeaaaase, I will not tell, please do not kill me!"
"Now. What was that piece about a rare 'someone' who doesn't think me a freak? Do tell!" Harry's curiosity had been aroused, but he was sceptical; in his mind, there existed no girl who wasn't - at least a little - scared or insecure of being left alone with him.
"Well. Hermione, of course."
Harry rolled his eyes and let out the breath he was holding in anticipation. He had been expecting someone - anyone - else, and now was rather frustrated. "Ginny! You're such a git! She doesn't count! She's my best friend, AND she's probably as much as a freak as I am!" Harry realized what he had just said, and continued immediately. "Well, in a good way, of course!"
But Ginny was no longer paying serious attention. She continued, "The reason I'm saying that, though, is that Hermione and I have talked a lot in the last two years, and I know things that most people don't. Why, for example, she could never get comfortable in her relationship with Ron."
She suddenly had Harry's full attention. He, himself, had wanted to know that since the previous year, but Hermione herself had never talked about it - and probably wouldn't. Furthermore, he had just heard a bit of Ron's version of things, and eager to know more, he decided hearing Hermione's version - distorted it may be because of Ginny's interpretation of it - might be enlightening.
"So why?"
"I've been asked never to tell you this, but my better judgement is prompting me to tell you now." Ginny winced as she said the words. "It was because of - you, Harry."
Harry raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "What exactly do you mean, because of me?"
Ginny kept silent for a moment, trying very hard to choose her next words very carefully. "Well, Hermione's heart is a deep and mysterious well; my assessment is that she's an intense, complex and somewhat insecure human being. Even with me, she never discloses most of her personal feelings. But from the conversations I've had with her, I've drawn some conclusions."
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his bed, sitting up to better look at Ginny while she was talking. He cared about Hermione, and agreed that she was sometimes hard to figure out. He also vividly remembered the time when Ron, during their first year, had made a snide comment that had made her break down in tears. He had seen, back then, that behind the façade, she was very sensitive.
"So, what did you conclude?"
"Before I tell you what I think, let me ask you a few questions. Who knows you more than anyone else, even Ron?"
"Hermione," Harry answered, "but only because she's seen me at my worst and my best!"
"Who - with the exception of yours truly - is not afraid to confront you, and tell you exactly what they think?"
Harry had to concede, again, "Hermione."
"Who, in our fifth year when you first thought you were 'possessed' by Voldemort, refused to accept your momentary self-pity 'episode', in your room at number twelve, Grimmauld Place?"
"Hermione," Harry murmured.
Ginny continued relentlessly. "On that one date in Hogsmeade with Cho Chang, what was the subject of your argument with her?"
Harry gasped. "The fact that I had to interrupt our date to go meet… Hermione!"
Ginny jumped to her next questions. "When Umbridge took over the school, who rallied people around you to form the DA? Who made sure your name was cleared by arranging the interview with The Quibbler?"
Harry was trying to put all the questions together. He had to agree with Ginny, once again, but insisted on another idea.
"It was Hermione, of course. But you know, she's my friend, we established that. These are things friends do for each other!"
"Maybe you should ask yourself if Ron ever did things like that for you… Okay, one last question. In our fifth year, who never left your side from the moment we started our DA meetings to the moment you fought the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries?"
Harry didn't know what to think. Of course, the answer was - once again - Hermione. However, what was he supposed to make out of what Ginny was getting at? Did Hermione have 'feelings' for him he had no idea about? The next thought scared him even more. Could HE have 'feelings' for Hermione? One question was now burning in his mind more than anything else.
"Ginny, you're confusing me. Hermione has never shown anything more than friendship towards me. What are you getting at?"
"Harry," she said softly, "from some of the things she told me, and the way I've seen her interact with you, I think - I think she's in love with you. And I think she has been for a very, very long time."
Harry was at a loss for words. He looked at Ginny in utter disbelief. All of the sudden, a deep surge of warmth came over him, from the pit of his stomach all the way to the roots of his messy hair. He suddenly had an overwhelming desire to see Hermione, to throw his arms around her and hold her real tight like he often did when they played around outside with Ron and the others. But this time, the motivation was different. Out of the blue, he then had a flash of teary brown eyes looking over his bruised body, saying "I can't lose you! I love you."
He composed himself, and snapped himself back to his senses. "Ginny, that can't be right; she's the one that helped me - even pushed me - to get a date with Cho, she NEVER said or did anything to even remotely suggest that she likes me. And when she has such an interest for someone, she goes after it: she did with Krum, and again with Ron."
"Harry," Ginny concluded as she got up to leave, "That's probably because - I'm not even sure she grasps the true nature of her feelings for you."
"Or, more likely, because I'm just a friend to her!" Harry concluded out loud.
Ginny left. Harry was left to entertain this new theory, but somehow it just didn't make sense. Hadn't Ron just told him that they had broken up because they felt more like brother and sister than boyfriend and girlfriend? Besides, hadn’t Ginny said that it was her own conclusion?
Hermione was probably going to visit him today. He decided he would try to probe the issue then, but had not idea what to expect. He didn’t even know what ‘love’ was, really. At the thought of seeing Hermione, however, Harry was again overtaken by a surge of warmth…
-----
"I'm going! I can't believe I'm doing it, but I'm going to Romania!"
As expected, later that afternoon, a flustered - yet beaming - Hermione came running frantically into Harry's room after having opened the door with a loud bang.
Harry woke up from his nap, wide-eyed and bewildered; his heart accelerated slightly at the sight of Hermione. He suddenly regretted having spoken too quickly about her going "away," to "see the world."
"Man, has anybody been raised to knock before they enter a room?"
"I'm sorry Harry, but the nurses always tell us to just walk in, so that's what we do. And besides, I'm so excited, I wanted you to be the first to know, I can hardly contain myself!"
Harry had rarely seen Hermione so enthused. "So Romania, uh? You're sure this is what you want?"
Hermione looked at him quizzically and answered, "Well, of course I want to go! It won't be easy being far away from friends and family, but you know, it's what life is all about, right?"
"Right," answered Harry, painfully remembering the pattern of his life. People leaving him.
"Look, I found this really great house - well, it's small, but it's just perfect for me - to rent, I've got a picture in -"
Harry interrupted her. He had longed to see her, and somehow he had to talk to her. Looking directly at her, trying to pierce her soul with the gaze of his intense, emerald green eyes, he went straight to the point.
"Hermione? I know this is completely off the subject, but I've been thinking a lot about this during my stay at the hospital. Why did you and Ron, er, broke up?"
Had she been a Quidditch player, Hermione's face would have given the impression she had just been winded by an unexpected bludger. Her cheeks instantly turned to a deep shade of purple, and she literally fell on the chair next to the bed, her hands on her mouth and her eyes looking down to avoid Harry's searching gaze. "Uh, it's hard to explain, I think. I'm still sorting out myself all the reasons. I'm not sure I'm even ready to talk about it, to tell you the truth," she said looking up at Harry. "Not with you, anyway." She defiantly held the intense interrogatory look coming from his eyes.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Harry spoke again. He continued softly, "Did I have anything to do with that? Was it because of me?"
Hermione gasped, and tears immediately filled her eyes. Evidently, he had struck a deep nerve, and she had not been expecting the question. "Harry, I - I can't talk about this, not now, not here. Not like this! You wouldn't understand!"
"Try me, Hermione. We're friends, aren't we?" Harry was suddenly more insistent, and he felt a wave of anger mounting within him. He wanted her to say something, anything, about her true feelings - whatever they were.
"I can't Harry, I really can't!" she said wiping her tears with the sleeve of her jacket.
"You mean you won't," Harry replied coldly. He was getting angrier, without knowing exactly why.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, Hermione fumbled with the papers she had been so anxious to show Harry, closed her bag, and stood up to leave. She almost sprinted to the door, and then, without thinking, spun around and blurted the answer Harry had been hoping for.
"If you must know, you're right, Harry Potter! It WAS because of you!" She slammed the door, and departed.
Harry was clueless. He realized his anger had something to do with the fact that she was planning to leave without letting him know anything about this. He started feeling that her going to Romania was just an excuse to escape something - something that involved him, and that she wasn't willing to discuss.
-----
"Boy, it feels good to be home again!" Harry was radiant as he crossed the threshold of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, having been released from the hospital at last - after four long weeks. He was greeted by Dobby, his devoted house-elf.
"Good morning, Harry Potter, Sir! Dobby has prepared breakfast, and it will be served soon. Dobby invites Master Harry to sit down at the kitchen table."
Harry had really missed being home. Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, was now legally his. Unbeknownst to Harry then, Sirius had redrafted his Testament upon rejoining the Order of the Phoenix. The revised will stated that Harry was to inherit everything he possessed. Little did Sirius know that his last will and testament would - sadly - have to be carried out just a few months later. To Harry, it meant that he was now financially free and owned a valuable piece of real estate. On top of the small fortune he had officially received from his parents on his eleventh birthday, he had now been bestowed with the entirety of the Black estate, and that meant ” well, that he was ridiculously wealthy. With school now over, he would soon need to consider many options in regards to his affairs and, even though it seemed uncertain, his future.
"Not today, though." Something weighed on his mind as he began to eat the delicious breakfast prepared by Dobby.
He had not spoken to Hermione since the day before, and Ginny had come to him that very night - his last evening at the hospital - in a state of panic.
"Harry, what did you tell her?" Ginny had asked.
"Well, to summarize, I asked her if I was the reason for her break-up with Ron," Harry had answered truthfully. "As soon as I asked, she had a meltdown of tears - I seem to cause that a lot - and she almost ran out, but not before blurting that I was right."
Ginny looked at Harry, worried. "I was right, she REALLY didn't expect THAT question. One thing for sure, I just saw her, and she worries me. I've rarely seen her so - broken, for lack of a better word."
Harry had immediately gotten up and started to dress. "I'll go see her, it's my fault, I'll go and straighten this out!"
"No!" Ginny had shrieked, panic-stricken. "She may not want to talk to you, and that will only make things worse. Send her a note, and wait for tomorrow, let her sleep on it."
Harry was nearly finished his breakfast. He couldn't wait any longer. He got up and went upstairs to a room he was now calling his "study": he had decorated the breathtaking mahogany bookshelves that adorned all but one wall of the large room on the last floor of the mansion with all his books from Hogwarts, and many others he had collected from various areas of the house. In the middle of the room, facing the door, was a beautiful, skilfully crafted mahogany work table, on which he usually left papers and other important things he needed to attend to. He sat down on the high-backed, old and comfortable dragon leather chair, took out a roll of parchment and his favourite quill - the gold- trimmed one Hermione had given him as a gift for his seventeenth birthday - and started to write.
Dear Hermione,
I'm writing you because I'm afraid of what may happen if I go to you in person - which was, in fact, my first intention. By sending you this note, I can tell you what I want to say clearly, and avoid the risk of our emotions getting in the way.
I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, or put you in a difficult situation. It's just - I've been trying to find out what happened between you and Ron, it's a year of both your lives I'm missing, and I just wanted to know a few details. I thought I had a general picture after talking to Ron, and that hearing your version would more or less fill in the blanks.
But your reaction has completely thrown me in the dark. Why would I be the reason of your break-up? I've had to live with the fact that I often put you and Ron in danger just because you two are "the friends of Harry Potter," and that's okay. But now, I must bear the burden of being the cause of your unhappiness, as well? I don't feel it's fair, but I don't think I'm getting the full picture either.
Hermione, know that I love you, and that I care deeply for you. I would die before I would let anything happen to you. I can't bear seeing you hurt.
Talk to me, please.
Harry
Harry let out a deep breath. He read the note a second and third time, making sure it couldn't be misinterpreted in any way. He called Hedwig, who seemed to be napping on the top of her cage in the corner of the study. With one flap of her large wings, she crossed the room and landed on Harry's shoulder. She let out a small hoot, and nibbled Harry's ear affectionately.
"Take this to Hermione, please. Make sure you stay with her for a while, I think she needs comforting." Harry knew the white owl had a soothing effect on people, and particularly on Hermione. He gently stroke the bird's feathers, and then let her go.
Hedwig took flight gracefully, slowly rising towards the corner of the huge skylight in the middle of the study's high ceiling, that was left open for that very purpose. Harry looked at her go, and hoped that he had done the right thing this time.