Harry couldn't decide what frightened him more; the fact Hermione seemed to have shared the pain in his scar, or the fact she was right about Voldemort. He was thrilled about something, ecstatic even. But how could Hermione know that?
He refocused his attention on her, propped uneasily against the squashy chair, clearly shaking as if suffering from hypothermia. As his eyes met hers, he realized her thoughts were truly reflecting his own. The pain that was visible in her eyes only moments before had been replaced by unmitigated panic.
"Harry?" her voice quaking noticeably. "How do I know that? How do I know he's happy? What's going on?" Her voice was steadily growing more frightened.
"I don't know," Harry replied, still shocked at what had just happened. He moved closer to her and curled his arms around her quivering body. She burst into tears almost immediately; not tears of sadness or pain, but the kind of tears associated with the feeling of fear and helplessness. Her tears brought Harry to some modicum of reality and he pulled her closer.
This is what he feared most, this is what he fought so hard against - Hermione in pain. He made a conscious decision, while clutching her in his arms, that he would keep this from happening again, but not by avoiding her - it was too late for that - by trusting Dumbledore's assertion that love is more powerful than even the darkest wizards.
He spoke so quietly it was a miracle any sound came from his throat. "It's going to be okay Hermione. I promise you that. I'll keep you safe no matter what it takes." She nuzzled her head in closer to his chest as he kissed the top of her head.
They sat on the floor for nearly an hour, clutching each other and not speaking a word. They both seemed to stare into the fire, searching for some logic to explain what had happened. Harry spoke first.
"Hermione, I don't want you to be alone tonight." She looked into his eyes, wiping a stray tear from hers.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"It's getting late. I think you need to get some sleep, but I don't want you in your dormitory all alone, not tonight...not after," Harry trailed off, seeming to not want to remind her what happened. However, his request seemed to bring Hermione back to the categorical logic that had failed her over the past hour.
"Well, I'm surely not sleeping on the common room floor." She smiled. This was clearly her best attempt at lightening the mood.
"Listen," Harry said, shifting a bit. "Let me take you up to my dormitory. You can sleep in my bed and I'll take Ron's." He was clearly concerned that Hermione might think his intentions were something other than purely protective in nature.
"Harry." The tone of her voice seeming to answer him before the words, she put her finger to his lips to stop the rebuttal clearly preparing to erupt from them. "It's really very sweet and I thank you for it, but I'll be fine. I just need to get some sleep and clear my head so I can think logically about this." She interrupted his reply again. "And, I surely will not be able to clear my head if you are sleeping next to me," she added, sheepishly.
"But, Hermione," he began.
"You can, however, walk me to my staircase, and say goodnight," she said with finality. She got up from the floor and extended her hand to help Harry up. Harry had witnessed far too many arguments between Hermione and Ron to know once she made up her mind she'd gladly drink bobotuber puss before conceding defeat. He put his arm around her shoulders and walked to her staircase.
Her hand fell into his as she gave him a warm kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Harry Potter," she said warmly while ascending the first two stairs backwards, still holding his hand.
"Good night," he replied, looking into her deep brown eyes, stained pink from her tears. He wanted to say more. He wanted to change her mind, but she glided up the stairs and out of sight, holding his hand until it would extend no further. "Happy Christmas," he said softly, still looking to the place where he saw her last.
Harry was exhausted. He fell into his four-poster bed, fully dressed, and stared upside-down out of the window for a few minutes. He couldn't make sense of what happened. He had experienced pain in is scar plenty of times before. A dull pain remained with him nearly every day since Voldemort's return. He had been around his friends when it happened. He had been alone. He had been sleeping and awake. He had even been in close proximity to his friends, but no one had ever felt what he felt. No one ever experienced what it was like.
It had to be because I was kissing her. Maybe it's just a coincidence.
Truth be told he had no idea how it happened, but he knew this was the first time in a long time he had trouble clearing his thoughts before finally falling asleep.
***
It was a strange sensation.
His chest seemed to be quaking.
A low chatter rumbled in his ears.
A weight seemed to sit firmly on his chest.
He had stirred awake but hadn't yet opened his eyes. He suddenly realized what had woken him and without opening his eyes, said with some disdain, "Good morning Crookshanks."
Crookshanks rubbed his whiskers against Harry's face and spun in circles, whipping his bottlebrush tail under Harry's nose. Harry pushed Hermione's ginger cat off his chest and reached for his glasses. Rather than feeling the cold wood of the side table his hand slammed into something warm, dry, and rather squishy.
"OOOhh!" came an excited voice, "Harry Potter tickles Dobby!" Harry snapped his eyes opened and found himself staring in the large green eyes of the oddest looking house elf Hogwarts had ever seen.
"Dobby! You've got to stop sneaking up on people like that!" Harry huffed, flopping back down on his bed.
"Dobby wanted to give Harry Potter a gift, sir," he said extending his hand. He had apparently tried to knit a pair of mittens, although they looked a bit more like placemats.
"Oh, er- thanks Dobby. I have your gift too." Harry had actually remembered to wrap Dobby's gift this year. It was a mismatched pair of socks that Harry was quite sure matched nothing in anyone's wardrobe. Needless to say, Dobby promised to wear them everyday.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Harry jerked his head toward the window, heart leaping into his throat.
"Winky!" Dobby exclaimed. "Winky has startled Harry Potter sir. Dobby is sorry sir." Winky was slamming her head into the frosty window appearing to try and launch herself out of Gryffindor tower.
"Hi Winky," Harry said cautiously. When she didn't answer, he looked at Dobby questioningly.
"Winky is much better sir. Winky does not drown in butterbeer any longer sir. But Winky is still missing her master Mr. Crouch." Winky gave a small squeak. "I's telling Winky if she is not happy at Hogwarts she should be taking the job sir, but Winky will not." Dobby explained.
"Job? What job?" Harry thought, feeling a dreadful sensation that Hermione's efforts in S.P.E.W. had finally fallen on listening ears - dreadful only in that Hermione would be absolutely impossible to live with if S.P.E.W. had succeeded in freeing a single elf.
"Mr. Bagman sir. Mr. Bagman wants Winky to serve his family sir, but Winky will not leave Hogwarts. She is not liking it here. She likes to serve families sir, but Winky will not go." Harry merely looked at Winky, now desperately trying to unhook the window lock. Harry noticed Hedwig gliding past the window and into the Owlery. She even appeared to have all her feathers!
Vicky must have taken the news better than expected.
The thought pleased Harry to no end, but he still felt a bit sorry for Krum. Notwithstanding, it was Christmas and Harry thought the sight of a fully winged Hedwig was likely the best gift he'd get this year. Feeling considerably more Christmas cheer, his thoughts returned to the pile of presents at the foot of the bed.
There was a package from Dumbledore, a large box from Mrs. Weasley (who even appeared to have knitted the ribbon this year) a card from the Dursleys, and another box, emitting a strange odor, from Hagrid. Harry remembered that Ron was bringing him something from his vacation and looked around for a sign of Hermione's gift.
"Is Harry Potter looking for Ms. Hermy's gift sir?" Dobby asked, green eyes glowing.
"Well, I was just," Harry said, trying not to seem greedy.
"Ms. Hermy is not feeling good sir. Ms. Hermy did not sleep sir," Dobby added.
"What do you mean Dobby?" Harry asked, his expression quickly turning serious.
"Dobby is the only elf that cleans Ms. Hermy's tower sir. Ms. Hermy still hides clothes sir. But Ms. Hermy did not sleep last night sir. Dobby thinks Ms. Hermy is angry with Harry Potter sir. She talked all night about Harry Potter, sir. She calls Harry Potter's name when her eyes are closed."
That was all Harry needed to hear.
It was a good thing Harry hadn't gone to the trouble of changing into his pajamas that night before. He jumped out of bed, leaving the pair of house elves in the room and ran down to the common room to find Hermione. Finding the common room as deserted as it had been for the holidays he headed for the Great Hall.
If it was possible, Harry's hair was even more disheveled than usual. It almost appeared as though it had been hexed to stand completely on end. His clothes were wrinkled and he was still fighting back a yawn when he saw Hermione sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor house table. She seemed to be propping her head up with her left hand and aimlessly stabbing a fork at her eggs with the right.
"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked, settling down across the table from her. Not that he would ever say it to her, but she looked terrible. Her hair was tousled, her face seemed drained of color and her eyes were entirely bloodshot.
She startled at his arrival and picked her head up. She flashed an entirely forced smile and said, "Oh! I'm great, Harry. Happy Christmas!" with far too much enthusiasm.
"Hermione," Harry started.
"Eggs?" she interrupted, heaping a pile of eggs onto his plate. Obviously searching to change the subject she added. "I have a gift for you." She pulled out a thin square package wrapped in brown paper. Harry did not take his eyes off her as he reached for it.
"Hermione," he tried again.
"Open it. I've been so excited to give it to you since the summer," Hermione interrupted again.
"Summer?" Harry said, now looking at the package.
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley helped me get it for you. She said she thought it w..w..would make a n..n..nice gift." She unsuccessfully fought back a yawn. Filled with curiosity he untied the bow and unwrapped the package.
"I hope it means as much to you as this does to me," Hermione said quietly, playing with the ring Harry had given her. He was looking at the back of a picture frame and turned it over to see the subject framed under the glass.
"Sirius," he said quietly. He stared at the picture of his godfather and himself. "How?" he said incredulously.
"Last Christmas when we were all at Grimmauld Place together, Mrs. Weasley had a camera and managed to snap this picture of the both of you when you weren't paying attention," Hermione said smiling.
Harry remembered that Christmas only too well. For all the pain and isolation he endured, self-imposed or not, this photograph managed to capture an exchange between Harry and Sirius that he barely remembered. After Ginny brought him to his senses, Harry had joined everyone in the kitchen. Sirius has been preparing part of the meal. However, the culinary arts were not among his greatest of talents. After sneaking a bite of his braised beef, Ron had scrunched his nose in disapproval.
"I saw that Weasley!" Sirius warned.
"What? I didn't do anything!" Ron scoffed.
"Right you didn't. Keep it up." He winked at Harry. "I can still hear the snap of that leg. I'm sure I can make it a matched set." Molly Weasley spun around and Ron's mouth dropped open in shock.
Harry, knowing full well Sirius had an exceptionally dry sense of humor, lost his composure at the sight of Ron's reaction. It wasn't long before Sirius joined him, laughing heartily.
"Oh, very funny!" Ron rolled his eyes and stalked into the adjacent room. His hasty exit only encouraged the laughter between Sirius and his godson. Harry never noticed the flash from Ms Weasley's camera.
"I don't know what to say," Harry whispered.
"That's the beauty of it," Hermione echoed their prior conversation. "You don't have to." They smiled at each other and spent the rest of the day doing what they'd done yesterday...nothing.
As he washed up for dinner, he thought back on the afternoon, momentarily forgetting the ever-present worry that had plagued him since the previous night.
***
"The lake is so beautiful in the winter, don't you think?" Hermione asked as she gazed across the glistening waters.
"I've seen one thing more breathtaking than the lake." Harry had never removed his gaze from Hermione's face. He studied the twisting threads of breath that escaped her lips in the crisp afternoon air. The woods encircling the lake were alive with the sounds of small forest animals digging for a warm spot to rest. Owl wings snapped through the crisp air and their hooting ricocheted off the imposing stone walls of Hogwarts. It was the loudest silence he'd ever heard.
She turned to face him. "You aren't turning all mushy on me, are you?"
"Perhaps. Is it too much to think the Boy-Who-Lived might be reduced to incoherent babbling at the sight of a beautiful girl?"
Hermione spun around to look behind her. "Who is she? I'll hex her into next week!" Harry smirked at her jesting and grabbed her around the waist.
"Everyone is a comedian!" he joked. She looked over her shoulder at him.
"I love to see you smile. Mark my words; you have a long and arduous road ahead of you. The shock is bound to break Lockhart's memory charm when you unseat him in Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile contest." She gave him an equally broad smile.
"You make me smile, more than anyone ever has. I don't think I've known true happiness until now." His face was more serious than any he'd cared to show her. While he was sure the wind was completely still, he could nearly see a shudder climbing her spinal column as their eyes met. She held his gaze for a moment and drew a breath to speak.
"I love you, Harry. I always have. I always will."
He replied to her declaration simply, without use of flowery vocabulary or inspired poetry. He responded as any other 16 year-old boy would do. He turned her in his arms, lowered his head, and pressed his lips to hers. She lazily slid her arms over his shoulders and let them rest, crossed over each other. The sounds of the winter woodlands were replaced with the quiet rhythm of their breathing. The sounds of his gloved hands moving along her woolen robes accompanied an occasional urgent gasp as they deepened their kiss and melted against each other, forgetting the near bitter chill in the air.
"I love you," he said quietly placing his forehead against hers as they broke from their embrace.
They stood for a while, foreheads together, quietly contemplating the abrupt change their lives had seen. Whether she thought of the future or the past, Harry didn't ask. He didn't care. He was living for the moment. He refused to think of what could be, and thought only of what was.
She pulled back, a strange smirk on her face, and walked toward the castle silently. As he turned to follow she ducked behind a large tree.
"Hermione?" he inquired.
Splat!
A hastily-formed snowball caught him squarely in the chest and Hermione darted off toward the castle.
"Oh! Ms. Granger! You have been warned! All is fair in love and war!" she screeched as Harry took off after her, snowballs multiplying in the air around her. For once, she forgot about books, tests, notes, dreams, and dark wizards. She engaged in a valiant effort and, although tragically defeated, didn't seem to mind when the victor of the battle claimed her as his prisoner.
After pummeling her into a drifting snow bank, he threw her over his shoulder and raced off for the warmth of the common room.
"Harry! How very Cro-Magnon of you!"
"Well, what more could you expect from me in this situation?"
"What situation," she said wryly as he carried her toward the castle. "Having, said beautiful girl, declare her affection?"
"No. It's nearly time for the feast!"
Hermione's exasperated guffaws harmonized with Harry's laughter as she pummeled her fists into his back as they entered the warmth of Hogwarts.
***
They enjoyed a Christmas feast with the exceptionally small number of students who stayed behind. They all sat together at the customary table with the Hogwarts faculty, listening to stories and drinking eggnog. Harry noticed Snape and McGonagall were conspicuously missing from the table festivities. He wondered if the Order had some urgent calling, but the presence of the Headmaster merely convinced him they had decided to spend the holidays in some other way.
Harry extended the offer of sleeping arrangements to Hermione again. This time he tried stating the offer as opposed to phrasing it as a question. He had an equal amount of success as the previous night. When he awoke the next morning, he found Hermione working on transfiguration homework in the common room.
"Hermione, it's the holidays, why are you slaving over homework?" Harry asked.
"Harry, the holidays are over, Ron and everyone else returns today!" Hermione said matter-of-factly. Suddenly, Harry thought of the last time he saw his fellow Gryffindors. He was proclaiming his love for Hermione in front of all of them, at about 130 decibels.
"Er-Hermione," Harry said. "What are we going to tell everyone?" he asked, wishing their solitude could last forever.
"What's wrong with telling them the truth?" she asked looking up. Her eyes seemingly more red than brown now. "Because if you think for a minute I'm not showing this ring to every girl at Hogwarts you are sorely mistaken Potter," she added beaming at him.
He put his hands on her shoulders, bending over to give her a kiss on the cheek. "All right, we'll tell people, but only if I get one more day alone with you," he said rubbing her shoulders.
She closed her eyes and moaned quietly as he worked a knot out of her neck. "If you promise to keep doing that I might give you two days," she said smiling.
"Good, there's one thing I completely insist upon to start our day," he said quietly as he took the quill from her hand and closed her textbooks commandingly. She looked at him questioningly as he pulled her chair from the table.
"What's that?"
"Come with me, you'll see," Harry said, taking her hand and pulling her towards the boys' dormitories. They climbed the stairs in silence, Hermione's palm noticeably beginning to warm. Harry stopped at the door to the deserted room he shared with Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville. With a wry smile, he pushed the door open and ushered her inside.
"Harry," she said quietly.
"Shhhh," he replied, drawing her over to his bed and climbing onto the mattress. She followed willingly, but her face betrayed her insecurity regarding the situation. "Come here," he said at a whisper. "We both need this." With that, he pulled her onto the bed so her back was snuggled firmly into his stomach and wrapped his fluffy crimson blanket around them both. He wrapped his arm firmly around her waist and brushed her hair from her neck with his cheek. She turned her face toward his with an obvious question etched across her features. He answered it.
"Sleep, Hermione. I promise with everything I am, you will be safe. I'm not going anywhere." At his words, the corner of her lips curled upward, she sighed, and resigned herself to the welcoming slumber she had so ardently avoided.
Somewhere in the back of his imagination, Hermione's voice echoed a thought she'd likely never admit out loud.
Maybe Harry is smarter than I am.
***
After a refreshing nap, curled in each other's arms, Harry and Hermione armed themselves with the Marauders' Map and donned his invisibility cloak for a clandestine trip to Hogsmeade. Upon their return, the whole of Hogwarts seemed to be alive. All the students had returned, including Ron, and the quiet silence of the common room was a solemn memory. Quite a few pairs of eyes made their way to Harry and Hermione as they stepped through the portrait hole together. The fact they were holding hands was not lost on practically no one...especially...
"Ginny!" Hermione gasped as Ginny charged over and pummeled them both in a group hug.
"I wondered about this all holiday!" she said excitedly. "You have to tell me everything!" she demanded, pulling Hermione away. Harry saw a familiar red head poking out above everyone else.
Ron watched as Ginny led Hermione away, an unreadable look etched on his face. "No need to ask about your vacation, eh Harry?" he said quietly.
"Well," Harry said feeling his cheeks blush. He was intent to avoid the subject and ask about Ron's holiday when wild squealing erupted from a patch of girls on the other side of the common room. They were all huddled around the hand Hermione had extended in their direction.
"So, you finally gave it to her did you?" Ron asked.
Harry looked at Ron in utter disbelief. He never told Ron about the ring he'd bought, or for whom he'd bought it. Seeming to read these thoughts, Ron added in disgust, "Oh, come on Harry! You can't expect me to grow up with Fred and George and not do a little snooping! The pillow on your bed is hardly a substitute for a good vault at Gringotts." Harry laughed in spite of himself, making a point to remember Ron's sneaky side in the future. They sat down in front of the fire where Harry, in attempt to change the subject, began peppering Ron with questions about his vacation.
"Well honestly, it went well until a few days ago. Mum and Dad started acting all weird and we all had to come home on Christmas day. We ended up staying at the Burrow and they went off somewhere," Ron said, helping himself to a chocolate frog Dumbledore had given Harry. Harry told Ron about Snape and McGonagall missing Christmas dinner and their conversation quickly turned to wild speculation regarding the Order's activities. By the end of the evening, they had determined that Voldemort must surely be living in the bottom of the lake with the mermaids, ready to strike at the first sign of spring swimmers.
***
Classes resumed and life returned to normal at Hogwarts. This is to say it turned as normal as any school of witchcraft and wizardry can. Peeves seemed to take the miniscule numbers of holiday students as a personal affront and redoubled his efforts of mischief making upon the students' return. If it was possible Tonks seemed less coordinated than before the holidays. And Professor Snape, thoroughly convinced they had forgotten how to spell their own names over the break, began the term with a test.
Harry was sure if he hadn't needed remedial potions before, he was surely going to get it added to his schedule now. At least Hermione tried to keep up with her studies a bit over the holidays. Harry had nearly forgotten where he put his books; it had been so long since he laid eyes on them. Ron and Harry shot each other a disgusted look as Hermione's quill scratched away from the seat in front of them. As always, she was the girl with all the answers.
Harry merely stared at some of the questions wishing for inspiration to come. More often than not he found himself picking up his head and staring blankly at Hermione's shining hair. He studied the way it fell down her back, the way it rested on her shoulder. He watched the way she would occasionally run her fingers through it. Her mere presence seemed to clear his mind and answers would float back to him for some of the questions he'd had difficulty with. He was clearly impressed he had remembered what steamed heart of reidelwort was used for. In fact, he didn't really remember learning that at all.
No matter, it sounds good and I'm bound to fail this test anyway.
He continued to stare at the back of Hermione's head. She had it propped up gently with her left hand, quill in her right. He felt better about failing this test given the fact Hermione had stopped writing all together. She must've been just as lost on a question as Harry was. He noticed how the light bounced off the caramel highlights in her hair, how her shoulders seemed to float up and down with each breath.
She seemed so peaceful.
The kind of peace he felt on his Firebolt.
He thought about his new dive, racing toward the ground at break-neck speed, the snitch nearly within his grasp. He was smiling, in fact beaming and laughing...he loved to fly. He loved to dive, but he wasn't stopping. He wasn't able to pull up. The ground was careening closer and closer and the handle of his Firebolt would not budge. The snitch darted off just before it would've smashed into the hard ground of the pitch, but Harry couldn't stop; nor could he turn.
"Harry!" Hermione yelled, throwing her arm out and sending her inkbottle smashing into the next table. Harry looked at her thoroughly confused. It felt like he had been dreaming, but he was perfectly awake.
"Ms. Granger." Snape's silky cold voice began. "How uncharacteristic for our little know-it-all, if you're going to be disrespectful enough to fall asleep during one of my exams, you could at least do us the courtesy of dreaming quietly." Before Hermione could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. She gathered her books quickly and, face unmistakably crimson, ran for the door.
Hermione managed to dart out of the dungeon before Harry and Ron could catch up. She disappeared into a mass of students leaving their lessons and Ron was nearly out of breath trying to keep up.
"Harry! I really try not to get this much exercise in one day. What in Merlin's name are we running for?" Ron gasped.
"Hermione, I want to see if she's okay," Harry said quickly, looking down the next corridor.
"Harry, she was dreaming about you, how could she not be okay?" Ron scoffed. However, when his eyes met Harry's he seemed to realize there was more to Hermione's nap than he first thought. "What's going on?" he said growing more serious.
"I just need to find her," Harry said shortly, beginning to turn down the corridor, Ron tugging at his robes.
"Hang on, Harry! You need to tell me what's going on. Did something happen over the holiday break?" Ron demanded, the smile having faded from his face entirely.
"Not here. Just help me find her and I'll tell you everything, I promise," Harry said quietly. "Where do you think she went?" he continued.
"Where else?" Ron said rolling his eyes at Harry's poor grasp of the obvious.
"Library," they chimed together and set off at a run down the corridor, narrowly escaping the potted Snarfroot flower Peeves hurled in their direction.
They burst into the library, door slamming against the doorstop and incensing Madam Pince to the point of talking to herself. She walked off muttering something about "wizards today," and they began searching the library tables for Hermione. After two sweeps of the study area they regrouped to formulate plan "B."
"Did you see her?" Harry asked breathlessly.
"No, you?" Ron replied. Not waiting for his response Ron continued. "She's got to be somewhere in here. I checked the sections on transfiguration and potions."
"I checked dark arts and charms," Harry added.
"Where could she be?" Ron asked scrunching his face in concentration.
"I know," Harry said, sweeping off toward a small corner of the library with an engraved wrought iron sign indicating the books concerning...
"Divination! Harry? Have you gone mad? Hermione's more likely to knit a S.P.E.W. hat out of Crookshanks fur than look up information on divina..." Ron stopped as he and Harry turned down the last aisle to see Hermione sitting on the floor flipping through the pages of Spells for the Subconscious.
Feeling his heart rate steady, Harry walked quietly to where she was sitting and crouched beside her. "Hermione, are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she said shortly, failing to look up from the book in her lap. Harry and Ron shot a quizzical look toward each other. Either she was about to cry or about to explode. Quite honestly, Ron looked worried for Harry's safety given his proximity to, what he saw as, a ticking bomb. She flipped the pages faster, clearly not finding the answer she sought - growing steadily more agitated. "It's not in here! I can't find it anywhere! I've looked for hours in here!" she snapped.
"Hermione? You've only been here for ten minutes," Ron said, trying to reason with her, however - he was quite sure the Basilisk had nothing on the look she shot him in response to that comment.
Harry tried to assuage the smoldering fire. He knew what was bothering her. He knew everything.
"Hermione," he began, trying to close the book in her lap. "Look at me." She fought harder to stare at the pages in front of her. "Look at me," he said again, this time turning her chin toward his face. She begrudgingly raised her eyes to his...and exploded.
"I don't know what's going on! I want it to stop! None of these books are helping. This library is completely useless!" she bellowed over top of Harry and Ron's efforts to get her to calm down. "Don't you 'shush' me Ronald Weasley! You have no idea..." her voice started to shake "...no idea..." tears started to roll down her cheeks. Harry seized the opportunity in her moment of weakness to get a word in edgewise.
"Not yet, he doesn't, but I do," he said quickly. "Hermione I know what's been going on, I know everything," he said, lowering his voice. "Come with me, both of you," he ordered, pulling Hermione off the floor, and ushering them both out of the library past dozens of peering eyes.
"Will someone please tell me what is going on?" Ron demanded, growing more agitated as they swept down the corridor.
"Not out here," Harry said curtly, directing them into an available classroom and closing the door behind them. "Alright Ron, let me tell you what happened over the Christmas holidays."
As Harry began speaking, Ron was planted in his spot, tapping a foot, with his hands on his hips - by the time he finished, Ron had slumped into the nearest chair with his head in his hands. He was speechless. He merely gazed at them both with a gaping mouth and wide eyes. Hermione looked knowingly at Harry, he'd left out any reference to Trelawney's prophesy - but given Ron's current condition that bit of information was likely to put him on the express train to St. Mungo's.
"So how does any of that explain today?" Hermione asked quietly.
"Ron, what is the purpose of steamed heart of reidelwort?" Harry now asked his thoroughly confused friend.
"What?" Ron said dumbfounded.
"Exactly. Hermione?" Harry asked, shifting his gaze to her.
"Well, it's used in certain potions to extract phytoplankton from various aquatic tubers," Hermione said with her usual confidence. "What? You asked me?" she barked, growing annoyed at the quizzical expressions on their faces.
"Ron, do you have any idea what Hermione just said?" Harry charged on.
"I -er- I dunno, something about photographs of tubas?" Ron stammered.
"Precisely! That's about as much as I understood of it too," Harry continued. Both Ron and Hermione were looking completely frustrated at this point. "I have no idea what she's talking about and am nearly sure I wouldn't know a phytoplankton if it walked up and said it's name was Colin Creevy... but..."
"Question number 14," Hermione interrupted. Harry gave her a definitive nod. "You answered it," she said cuing in.
Ron had enough. "I promise on every member of my family living or dead, if someone doesn't put this into 25 words or less I'm doing my best impersonation of Peeves with this chair!" he roared.
"I was able to answer question 14 on Snape's test because Hermione knows the answer. I was looking at her, rather than concentrating on my test, and I could see the answer in her head! When she fell asleep..."
This was going to be the hard part. Hermione didn't know this.
"I saw what you did," he said pulling a chair up to Hermione and sitting down.
"What did you see?" Ron asked, seeming to want to test Harry on the theory he was espousing.
"Quidditch."
At the mere sound of the word, Hermione buried her face in her hands and tried to fight back her own emotions. Based on her reaction, Ron knew Harry must've been right. Harry put his arms around Hermione and pulled her close.
"It will be alright Hermione," he said softly, kissing her on the head.
"How will it? I can't sleep at all Harry! Every time I close my eyes I have the same dream - over and over. It's always the same. I always wake up right before you plunge into the pitch. It's everywhere I go, every time I sleep!" she said through streaming tears.
Harry hadn't realized it was a recurring dream.
"You have the same dream every time you sleep?" She nodded.
"Does it ever get anymore detailed? Do you ever have strong emotions, aside from fear?" Harry asked the questions in rapid succession, a pit growing in his stomach. Her reaction was enough of an answer for him. She burst into tears, refusing to answer the last question. She didn't have to. Harry knew the answer already. He glanced over at Ron; he was confounded, but focused on Hermione.
"Hermione, I need you to answer this for me, it's very important." She raised her tearstained face to his. "Are you happy I'm about to die in this dream?"
Her sobs became uncontrollable and he held her close. He knew what it meant, but he couldn't go any further with Ron in the room. He wasn't ready to share the prophecy with him yet, and he needed to explain his plan to Hermione.
"Ron, will you do me a favor?" Harry asked quietly.
"Anything." Ron looked back at him, realizing only part of the seriousness of the situation.
"I need to talk to Hermione alone for a minute," he asked, eyes pleading for Ron not to inquire further.
Seeming to understand the look on his face he replied, "I'll wait for you both outside." He opened the door, peered out quickly, and shut it with a quiet snap.
"Hermione," he said raising her face to his once again. "I know what's going on. Please just listen to everything I have to say before you respond." She quietly nodded her head, fear quickly growing behind her eyes.
"When Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby, he left this scar. He transferred some of his powers to me, like being able to speak Parseltongue." He waved his hand to stop her from interrupting.
"I know you know all that already," he added, answering her statement before she could make it. "What you don't know is that he and I forged this connection with each other. It's how he was able to break into my head last year, and how I managed to see into his when Mr. Weasley was attacked. You were so completely right last year, Hermione. Occlumency was the most important thing I needed to do and I didn't do it at all." He put a finger to her lips to quiet her response.
"I know. I've mastered it now - but only because of you." Her face went from understanding to confusion. "In our first lesson, Snape saw my memory of the wooded trail. I realized then, that I really needed to concentrate in order to keep him away from my feelings for you. That's why I worked so hard."
She finally got a comment in edgewise. "But Harry, you've mastered Occlumency, that means Voldemort shouldn't be able to get into your head anymore," she said, not following his thoughts.
"No, but I think he can get into yours," Harry said, grasping her hands.
"He has a powerful connection to me. I have a powerful connection to you. The kind of recurring dreams you're describing are the same kinds of dreams I had last year." Her face was starting to break into a horrified comprehension.
"Hermione, is it so illogical to think if he is connected to me, and I am connected to you, that he might now be connected to you as well?"
Harry had seen Hermione petrified during their second year. Frankly, the look on her face then was not as disconcerting as the terrified look that was spreading across her face now. Harry's theory made perfect sense. It made perfect, logical, sense. He could see the comprehension dawning in her eyes. She looked away and began shaking. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to rebut Harry's entire argument, with no luck whatsoever. She finally squeaked out, "what are we going to do?"
"Well, that's the easy part," Harry said calmly. "I'll just have to teach you Occlumency."