Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Back to School	By : aneener8d Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 118401 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights reserved to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. No profit is being made. Purely fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 9
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Back to School
Disclaimer: All rights reserved to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.
Summary: Hermione is back at Hogwarts to complete her education as an Eighth Year. But wait… is that Harry Potter?… as the new DADA Professor?! What’s Harry to do when all he can dream/think about is giving Hermione detention and seeing her in her school uniform... or more specifically without her school uniform?

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Unable to form words- or even a coherrant thought, Harry's body acted of its own accord. His mind registered his heavy footfalls as he stomped the short distance to Hermione. He could feel a hot thumping all over his body- hear the blood-flow in his ear pick up speed, as his heart thumped uncontrollably in his chest. With each thump in his chest, time slowed down- each second lasting longer than the previous one. And yet, even with each second feeling like a minute, everything was moving too fast- in a blink of an eye he was standing by Hermione, still unable to process or understand what was happening. Somewhere in his anger addled mind he recognized the surprise on Hermione's face but he was cognizant of little else of his surroundings.
The only thought that rang repeatedly in his head was the fact that Hermione wasn't acting like Hermione- as if she had been replaced by someone else or maybe even put under an Imperius Curse or... something! Anything could explain her odd behavior- even... even fucking Nargles for all he cared! Just something that would prove what he just witnessed to be false, or that she was acting accordingly under extreme duress.
Because, there was no way, no fucking way Hermione would ever, EVER act like some kind of simpering, namby-pamby fan girl or something- to Nathaniel fucking Kinlan no less! Maybe to Bathilda Bagshot, the author of Hogwarts: A History (and long time friend to the Dumbledores, as they had found out the previous year) or even Cassandra Vablatsky, the author of Unfogging the Future (despite Hermione's propensity to dislike the subject). But, Harry refused to believe she would act in such a way with Nathaniel Kinlan: Git Extraordinaire.
Even before he really knew what he was doing, Harry grabbed a hold of Hermione's right wrist and (admittedly a little- or a lot more- rougher than he had intended) pulled her towards himself.
Hermione lurched forward about a quarter of a meter, her eyes widening in surprise, then wincing in pain, and then finally closing into slits as if to glare at Harry- which was exactly what she began to do. Her facial expression conveyed an annoyance that went beyond any annoyances he had ever witnessed on her face. Harry couldn't begin to describe the surprise and hurt he felt. He couldn't remember ever being the object of her annoyance, let alone to this degree.
Sure she had acted annoyed when he was still a student of Hogwarts, when he was being particularly lazy one week and leaving his school work to the last minute. But even then, the annoyance had been mostly directed at Ron, who would always try to copy off her work, whereas Harry usually attempted to complete most of his work before turning to her for help.
Being the direct receiver of the glare, Harry finally realized why Ron had always been slightly afraid of Hermione.
"Sorry." Harry said quietly, still in a slight state of shock. He really was sorry for grabbing her so roughly. However, judging by the way Hermione was looking at him, one would have thought he had not only kidnapped Crookshanks, but had proceeded to do unmentionable things to said feline.
Even after the apology Hermione's expression had not changed. She still had her eyes in tiny slits, glaring at Harry angrily, with her lips pursed tightly. Harry, at a loss for words, felt all the strength within him disappear- even the rush of adrenaline that had coursed its way through his whole system just moments before, had now faded into nothing. Later, when he would think about this exact moment- analyzing and dissecting each and every detail, each and every nuance- he would not be able to explain how he had managed to stay standing.
Harry's hand no longer having any strength, silently let go of Hermione's wrist. He watched, in a sort of out of body experience, his hand flop down by his side- almost looking like it did back in Second Year when Lockhart had managed to make all of his bones disappear.
Hermione, on her part, made a show of unceremoniously pulling her hand towards her own body and rubbing at the part where Harry's hand had been holding onto her. "Yes Harry?", she said in a very brusque manner.
"Er... I... I..." Harry couldn't think of a proper response. He blankly stared at Hermione, trying to figure out what was happening- trying to come up with some kind of explanation for Hermione's attitude towards him.
"I have a study session I have to go to before dinner, Harry." Hermione said curtly- drawing out his name in an exasperated manner, as if to say 'I don't have time for this!'
Harry remained silent.
"Can we continue whatever this is later, perhaps?" Hermione cut in before Harry could begin stammering again. Which, Harry's mind interpreted it to mean 'Stop bothering me, you twit! Now bugger off!'
Harry merely nodded his head in response, unable to do anything else. He couldn't imagine doing anything that would warrant such a strong negative reaction from Hermione. Even when they had to bear the burden of Riddle's necklace the previous year, when they had witnessed each others' lowest of lows, Hermione had not been this nasty to him.
Without responding, Hermione spun on her heels and determinedly walked away. Harry could do nothing but watch her go- with Nathaniel close at her heel.
But then, Harry's blood immediately began to boil tenfold. It was there, very subtle of course, but Harry knew not to question himself on whether or not he had seen it. A smug smirk gleaming evilly on Nathaniel's face as he rounded the corner, disappearing from Harry's view. Harry felt the heat rush to his face, and he could only assume there was a tell-tale crimson stain all across his cheeks and neck accompanying the heat.
Harry was unsure whether he was more angry, embarrassed, jealous, or resentful. All he knew was, as the image of Nathaniel's smug face flittered across his memory once more, he had the strongest urge to throttle the fucking git!
Once all traces of Hermione and Nathaniel were gone- no longer able to hear even the click-clack of shoes against the stone floors- Harry finally fell to the floor. Despite the momentary boost in blood flow due to Kinlan (said with an angry growl in Harry's mind), Harry's legs, no longer strong enough to keep him up, crumbled underneath him and he ungracefully toppled to the floor.
Somewhere in the dark abyss of his mind, he recognized pain from the fall. There was a dull throbbing, but Harry could not make out where it was coming from. Because that pain- that hurt from the fall was so infinitesimal to the pain he felt clenching at his chest, he barely registered the throbbing at all.
He didn't know what to make of the situation. So many thoughts flickered on and off in his mind, trying to piece together why Hermione would act in such a way with him. None of the thoughts really made sense, and the more he thought on the subject, the more outlandish his theories were becoming. But, even in all the confusion, his instincts- his gut feeling was telling him that he had to trust Hermione- no that he still did trust Hermione. The only problem was that he had a feeling (more like a tickle, really) that Hermione was in trouble. Not in the I'm going to give you a spanking kind of trouble- more like the Damsel in Distress- pretending not to be kind of trouble.
Harry felt an infinite amount of time pass as he remained sitting, blank-faced, on the cold stone floor. He knew he should try to stand or otherwise leave the hallway, but a voice in his mind told him it was alright- there were no more classes for the day, and that there would be, most likely, no one passing by to gawk at him.
Just as that thought finished forming in his mind, there was a dark shadow looming over him. Harry looked up to see a very puzzled Arithmancy Professor looking down at him.
"Er... Hello Professor Vector." Harry managed to say as he scrambled about to try to right himself into a standing position. Just then, a hand suddenly appeared in front of his face.
"Here, let me help you Professor Potter." Professor Vector said. Then, without waiting for a response, she bent at her knees and then took her hand and gently wrapped it around Harry's upper arm as best she could, and gave enough pressure to help steady Harry's balance and stand him up.
"Harry... er... Please call me Harry." Harry said very awkwardly, even before his brain could process that he was, in fact, speaking. When Harry finally looked toward the Arithmancy Professor, he saw a bemused expression on her face. "It's... er... I'm still not quite used to the title- especially when former professors call me in such a way." Harry said, commending himself at the fact that he was beginning to speak in coherent sentences.
Unlike the rumors he constantly heard from his peers of Professor Vector, he had come to find that she was a very kind person- much more in lines with what Hermione would usually say of the professor. Her expression usually showcased her stern character as well as her inclination to stick to the rules (whatever they may be). However, that did not, by any means, signify that she was boring or mean. Harry had to admit that there were numerous occasions, since he had come to actually know her (given that he had never taken Arithmancy), in which her jovial and all around agreeable nature surprised him into feeling comfortable with the older woman (or as comfortable one could get with a former professor- nevermind he had never actually had her as a professor).
The Arithmancy Professor gave Harry a sort of smile of understanding- a small gesture that Harry could not help but reciprocate.
"Only if you call me Septima," she replied, " even if you feel uncomfortable." She added, her bemused expression returning once more. "You are the Savior of the Wizarding World, and have been a professor at Hogwarts for about five months now. I think it's about time you begin to call us by our given names."
The way Septima Vector spoke was very formal and professorly- not unlike how Hermione sometimes spoke to him, when she felt it absolutely necessary to lecture him, that is. This thought had proved to be lethal, in that it reminded Harry of Hermione and everything that had transpired moments before. There was a pang of hurt coming from his chest that he had, somehow, momentarily forgotten due to the embarrassment of being found sprawled on the floor by the Arithmancy Professor.
He thanked the professor including an awkwardly stuttered 'Septima' before adding that he would see her at dinner. Harry managed a quick goodbye, to his relief, without further embarrassing himself. Harry decided that he had to make a quick get-a-way before she began to ask why he was sitting on the floor in front of her classroom door. Though, he knew she probably wouldn't have asked regardless- being a polite and unimposing type of person.
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As Harry made his way towards his chambers, he tried to think of a reason as to explain what had just transpired. Could it be that Hermione was, in actuality, tired of him? Maybe she had fallen out of love with him? Or could it be that she realized her feelings towards him were actually less than her feelings towards Kinlan? These negative and nasty thoughts kept swirling about in his head, and no matter what he tried they wouldn't go away.
No. He had decided to trust Hermione. Even if she was not in love with him, he knew she still loved him, at the very least, like a friend or brother. He also knew that given her strong morals and sense of loyalty, it would be only under extreme circumstances that she would ever snuff him or otherwise ignore him, as she had been doing for the past couple of weeks. But, he couldn't deny that Hermione had promised to keep him updated, as well as let him know if there was any danger involved- which she had failed to do.
Harry finally arrived at his portrait door. After giving the password and entering his chambers, he walked over to a small couch in his living area and plopped down tiredly. He rubbed at his face with his hands, making sure to reach under his glasses, to rub the fatigue away from his eyes.
Maybe... maybe Hermione had a suspect, and that suspect was Nathaniel Kinlan.. and so she had to go undercover in order to get him to confess... and just maybe she was so caught up in what she was doing that she had forgotten to mention it to him... though... that wouldn't really explain why Hermione had been so annoyed with him... unless... she was acting annoyed so as to trick Kinlan into trusting her or... but... her acting like a completely different person would probably make her more suspicious rather than trustworthy... and she's not so stupid as to use such an obvious plan on Kinlan -and no matter what Harry thought of the git, he knew Kinlan wasn't so stupid and prideful to just believe Hermione would all of a sudden be infatuated with him... No there was something else... something Harry was missing.
He started to think about the conversation he had had with Ginny a while back. He was beginnng to feel self-conscious and maybe a little bit inferior. Though he usually could not care less about what others were saying about him, there was a small voice- a small feeling (not unlike what he had felt when he was wearing the locket last year), that kept telling him that what everyone was saying was true. That he didn't deserve her- how could he when in all the time he had known her, rather than give her happiness, he had riddled her with danger and pain.
No, but that was just how Hermione was. Even before they had become official friends, her curiosity and sense of doing what's right had enabled her to help Harry until they made it official on Halloween. Not to mention, who else would have helped Neville Longbottom- a boy she had just met on a foreign magical train, in a foreign magical world she knew nothing about until she probably had a visit from a Hogwarts Professor (to let her know she had magical abilities and had been admitted into one of the most prestigious magical schools),7]6uy to find a lost toad named Trevor?
Maybe Hermione had heard the rumors too? Maybe she was acting annoyed with him and avoiding him to prove that she was not under the influence of...
And then it hit him. It was like an epiphany- and though it may be a bit outlandish, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense- more than anything else that is. Amortentia! Well, maybe not Amortentia specifically- it would be too strong, but there were so many types of love potions that any one of them could be the one causing Hermione's symptoms.
No... but surely... it couldn't be... He knew Nathaniel Kinlan was smart, but for Kinlan to be able to make the potion, he would need privacy. And Harry knew by experience, unless you have the Marauder's Map, it was impossible to find any privacy at Hogwarts. Even the Room of Requirement was so well known by everyone (especially after the previous year) that it was impossible to ever find the room unoccupied or otherwise not under heavy surveillance by a Professor.
But a love potion was the only thing that could make sense. Her strange infatuation with Kinlan and her sudden disinterest in himself, even as a friend. Her apparent lack of concern about what had happened over a month ago, given that she had yet to tell him about any type of investigation that had been going on. He knew Hermione, he knew that just as she trusted him to tell her everything, she would know Harry was trusting that, she too, would keep him informed of anything she had found out about the incident.
He didn't think it was anything from the Weasley shop either. Their products only gave a temporary feeling of love. Especially after the 'Ron Debacle' in Sixth Year, Harry knew Ron (who now helped out George at the shop) had persuaded his brother to limit the potency of the potion as well as limit the feeling to last only a few minutes (so as to prevent any poor susceptible bloke to have a prolonged embarrassing moment in which they babble on and on about some girl they don't even know or like).
Harry's eyes began to roam around his room. It was always so nice and tidy through the efforts of the Hogwarts House-Elves. He had remembered there were a couple of cups and dishes he had left in the sink, that now laid washed and cleaned in their rightful places. He then looked towards his small table by the kitchenette and saw a few small vials of potions he had acquired from Slughorn for a lesson he had done on invisibility and disillusionment.
And then another light-bulb flashed on in his mind. Slughorn! Harry knew all Potions Masters liked to keep a store of a variety of potions for just-in-case purposes. He also knew, just as most of the Slug Club members would, that Slughorn kept a whole shelf dedicated to love potions in his office. Professor Slughorn had once confided in him that he hated to brew love potions in general, but when one is decorating their office (for scholarly purposes- or in the very least, for his appearance as a scholarly man), there were no other potions as vibrant and different in color than the various love potions.
Nathaniel, a smart, charming, and popular student from Ravenclaw; but more importantly, the son of Mr. and Mrs. Kinlan (as in Kinlan Wizarding Wireless- a multi-million galleon corporation that had, in recent years, globalized their endeavors to the rest of Europe) had also been invited to the Slug Club (from what Hermione had told him- Harry never finding it in him to actually show up to any of Professor Slughorn's get-togethers). It would have been all too easy for Nathaniel to get his grubby hands on any of the love potions stored there. Slughorn, always susceptible to brown-nosing and the charms of popular students, had probably divulged what each potion did to Nathaniel without much thought to the consequences (much like Slughorn's discussion on Horcruxes with Tom Riddle).
But... how could Harry prove it? It wasn't as if he could stick to Hermione all day, he had his own classes and other professorly duties that he had to attend to. He surely couldn't ask Hermione, she probably wouldn't even know if she were taking a love potion (if she was under the influence, she wouldn't believe him and would probably start hating him for thinking she was stupid enough to fall for such a thing). Ginny and Luna were out of the question as well, as they only shared the core classes with Hermione and all their elective classes were different from Hermione. Maybe he could ask Slughorn? Harry knew the Potions Professor was always eager to get some 'quality time' with Harry. Harry wasn't too sure whether Professor Slughorn would be able to help him, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to try (well maybe only a little- it always gave Harry a headache speaking to the fame-crazed professor).
Harry continued to ponder the question in his head, over and over- trying to think of a way to prove whether Hermione had been put under the influence.
Was he just being overly sensitive to the situation due to everything that had happened so far? It had looked like Hermione had figured out something about his attacker last time they had spoken (even though she had said that she hadn't), but why, if his love potion theory was incorrect, was she suddenly acting so... different?
He couldn't help but be reminded of the time Hermione had figured out Rita Skeeter was an unregistered animagus. No one could ever argue that she wasn't clever for figuring these kinds of things out, but once she had a plan to catch a suspect she became annoyingly tight-lipped about it until the very end. Maybe that was it. Maybe she really was just acting- trying to lure the suspect out or something. But, if that were the case, why was she acting so out of character?
His eyes roamed about the room once more and then landed on a pile of papers he needed to finish grading sitting in front of him. He looked at his watch and after seeing that he still had just over an hour before he needed to head down to the Great Hall, he decided to finish marking the papers. He needed to distract himself and keep himself occupied until he could speak to Hermione to better determine what his next course of action should be.
He knew that his theory was beyond far-fetched and that no one would believe him even if he broached the subject with them. But, Harry knew he had to trust his instincts, especially after the Draco fiasco during Sixth Year. He had known Draco was up to something, but no one had believed him- and that had lead to the death of Dumbledore (though if Harry was being completely honest, it was more of a premeditated death- planned by Dumbledore). He just... he just needed some kind of confirmation that he wasn't going crazy.
Harry shook his head, trying to rid his thoughts of Hermione. He knew it would be impossible to fully rid his thoughts of the brunette, but it still gave him peace of mind to think that he had some sort of control of his mental faculties (he, at the very least, had acknowledged that he was thinking too much about her).
He sat closer to the small coffee table in front of him and looked over the pile of parchment papers. Though he only had about a dozen or so left of the damn essays, he knew he probably wouldn't be able to finish grading even half of that within the hour he had.
The essays tended to be indecipherably illegible (at best), and quite often showcased the fact that the students had left the essay to the last minute (judging by the hasty scrawling on the parchment- not to mention the fact that some of the students still seemed to have trouble writing with a quill and the essays would be blotchy and quite messy). And, on more than one occasion, the almost verbatim scribbles of the students to the reading material, his class lectures, or even of other students.
Whenever he had to mark essays, he was quite often reminded of Ron (and only sometimes of himself). He had to admit though, that there were often times, while marking up the papers, in which he felt guilty and very sorry to his former professors for having put them through the torture of grading his poorly written essays.
Usually, Ravenclaws and (begrudgingly) most Slytherins took their school work quite seriously and their essays never took a lot of time marking (which wasn't a surprise to him really). Therefore, he had become accustomed to grading those essays first. Not only because they usually didn't give him a migraine, but also because he knew their class grade would become dangerously bloated if he left the good essays to be marked after the bad ones. He could just imagine that despite his hatred towards the Slytherin House, after reading a badly written and messy essay, he would think a Slytherin essay was a godsend only because the parchment wasn't riddled with splotchy ink blots (and incorrect information) and reward the student with full marks. That would be absolutely terrible!
Though not all of the essays handed in by the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were bad, however a good deal of them were pretty horrendous. These essays tended to give him massive headaches, that no amount of pepper-ups could ever help.
He picked up the first essay he needed to mark and began looking over the essay. After some time had passed, Harry gave out a heavy sigh and rubbed at his temples with his fingers. Though grading papers was not a new or hard task, it just seemed like a more intense task- now more than ever. He had just spent fifteen minutes staring at the same piece of parchment. He was finding it very difficult to stay focused on the markings and had ended up reading the same horrible writing six times.
This particular essay, if you could call it that, was especially bad. Though it had started off okay, it seemed the student had given up on any semblance of formality and had reverted to merely listing all of the qualities of a Basilisk, how to identify them, and combat against them. How this kid had managed to get accepted into NEWT level Defense class left Harry completely baffled. The kid hadn't even tried to make the list look like complete sentences!
Harry looked at the top of the page to see who had written the essay. 'Ambrose Gates' was written in sloppy penmanship across the top of the page. Harry tried to remember what the kid looked like and was having a difficult time getting a clear image. He vaguely remembered a very plain boy, about average in height and weight, with mousy, lightish brown hair- the very definition of being plain. Was it bad that Harry couldn't remember the actual face of the kid?
Then something clicked. One of the professors had mentioned a student named Gates being present when Harry had punched Nigel in the lavoratory. But, he still couldn't place a face on the kid- but worse still, he hadn't even known the kid was one of his students.
Granted Harry had been very preoccupied with all things Hermione since he began teaching at Hogwarts. It also didn't help matters that this kid was (apparently) in the same class as Hermione... so could anyone really blame Harry if he was having trouble naming and identifying all the students in this particular class? But still, it didn't sit well with Harry, and he decided he should actually pay attention to his students next time he had class.
Harry decided to give up on actually marking the essay, and placed a big red 'T' on the top of the page. He wrote a small note about resubmitting the paper on a later date or face detention for failing to complete the homework. Harry then placed the parchment on top of the pile of finished essays and reached down to start marking up the next one.
He had just finished grading essay number four when he checked to see what time it was. He realized he needed to hurry or otherwise he would be cutting it close. He quickly changed out of his work robes and put on a slightly more formal robe, before he headed out of his chambers.
He moved quickly along the hallways- just enough to quicken his heart-rate as well as his breath, but not so fast that students would be wondering where he was rushing off to. He checked the time as he went. He saw that he was making good time, and would probably arrive with a good five to ten minutes before dinner officially started.
As he reached the last flight of stairs leading towards the entrance to the Great Hall, Harry caught sight of Hermione and Ginny talking in rushed, angry whispers near the entrance. Whatever they were discussing seemed quite important seeing as both their faces looked serious.
He heard his name when Ginny seemed to be making a particularly heated point and had let her voice get slightly larger than she had intended. Harry's curiosity was piqued, but he knew that they would not include him in their discussion if he made his presence known.
Harry crept alongside the far right of the staircase- trying to stay outside of both their peripheral vision. He knew it wouldn't be too hard due to the way the two were standing, Hermione's back was more towards him and Ginny's left side faced him, but was mostly covered by Hermione's head- or more specifically, her massive mane of brunette curls. He managed to make it half-way down the flight of stairs, when he saw Hermione's body stiffen a bit and quickly turn around to look straight at him.
Startled, Harry jumped back slightly and felt his skin prickle and break out in goose-pimples all over. He wasn't sure how, but Hermione always seemed to know when he was close by. There were many times when he was suspicious that she had somehow put some kind of tracking spell on him to alert her of his close proximity. Harry could tell Ginny was also quite impressed, as she had not been aware of Harry's presence, and looked slightly startled at Hermione's sudden movement.
"Er... hello..." Harry said, as he awkwardly waved his right hand. He finished making his way down the stairs and stopped right where the two witches were standing.
"Hiya Harry." Ginny replied back as she smiled at him. Harry could tell the smile was forced, but he returned the smile anyways. He also noted her brief flash of annoyance at Hermione's lack of response and he documented her somewhat distant stance from Hermione, despite the fact that they were whispering close together not seconds before.
If Harry's memory served him right, he had patrols later with Ginny. Though they did not roam the halls together, they usually had ample opportunity to meet up and hang out a bit before going back to their duties. He decided he would catch Ginny when she was alone and ask her about what she and Hermione had been discussing.
The trio stood there in a heavy silence, everyone having difficulty thinking of something to say (though, from Harry's point of view, Hermione seemed nonplussed about the whole situation and merely looked at him as if he were a rock or something).
"Harry, may I have a word?" a familiar voice called over to Harry.
Harry turned towards the faculty entrance to the Great Hall and saw Minerva McGonagall in her usual austere manner. Harry mentally sighed with relief at the small form of escape the Headmistress was offering him. He turned back to his friends to say goodbye, but saw that they had already moved on- going back to whispering angrily at each other as they made their way inside the Great Hall through the main entrance. Harry simply turned back to Professor McGonagall and walked towards her.
Once Harry was closer, Minerva began to speak. "I wanted to speak to you about what you had requested last night." They moved together into the antechamber located just passed the faculty entrance to the Great Hall- where they would have more privacy. "I have spoken to Professor Flitwick, and he has agreed to switch patrol nights with you during that week. We're also going to place a notice on the bulletin boards of all the houses to make sure all of the students know that the Dueling Club will also be canceled for that day and rescheduled for the next day. I have also notified the Ministry, as you had requested, to inform them of your whereabouts during the night. Though, I believe you would probably be meeting with the Minister there, but I suppose we should keep to protocol during these uncertain times, as you suggested."
"Thank you Professor McGonagall." Harry replied.
"What I wanted to discuss though, was your form of transportation. I just got notice from the Ministry in which they told me they cannot offer any Portkeys at this time- afraid they may get into the wrong hands, and that if they open up the Floo in my office, it can only be for you to travel out, but cannot keep it open for you to travel in- once again for security reasons. They suggested you take an Official Ministry Car for your voyage back."
Harry shrugged. "Er... I mean... I could always just floo out and then apparate into Hogsmeade and take one of the many passages back into the castle." He said uncertainly. "I mean, I suppose I could apparate out as well..."
"No, I don't think the Ministry will approve of you apparating out on your own. I think they want to monitor your movements as best they could, 'to ensure your safety', I believe is what the notice had said." the Headmistress said in a dry manner- clearly not believing the Ministry was actually doing any of this for Harry's well being. "I don't know what the Ministry will think of you apparating back to Hogwarts. I'll contact Kingsley and see if he can do anything to help expand your form of transportation and not keep it so limited," she said.
"Thank you Professor." Harry said again.
"Is there some kind of threat that I should be aware of?" Harry asked as an afterthought. Though he had known that the Ministry was constantly keeping tabs on his whereabouts (for who knows what reason), he hadn't thought that they would go to such extremes to limit him in such a way.
"No, I don't believe there are any. I believe that attack, or whatever it was, from last month, was the most recent form of danger. I think more than that, from what Kingsley had mentioned before, it seems that the officials in the MInistry want to at least appear that they are on top of everything and keeping everyone safe. I believe, in the aftermath of the Second War against Voldemort and his followers, the Ministry wants to show that they are not taking any chances this time. I think until the Wizarding World knows for sure that Voldemort is really gone this time, they are going to keep security, in terms of travel especially, very tight." the Headmistress explained.
Harry nodded his head in understanding. Though he didn't quite agree with everything the MInistry did, he could at least see the logic behind their desire to appear in control. He knew from experience how vulnerable the Wizarding World was to rumors and speculation, and how they were prone to over-react to a lot of the rubbish the Daily Prophet still printed.
Harry thought about seeing if the Headmistress knew anything about new developments on the incident from a month ago, but was unable to do so when she began asking him about his classes and how he was fairing.
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Once their conversation was complete, the two Hogwarts Professors joined their colleagues at their respective seats at the dinner table inside the Great Hall.
Harry took his seat next to Hagrid, as he always did, and immediately his eyes scanned the Gryffindor table for any signs of Ginny or Hermione. He spotted the two towards the far end of the table. He saw that they were both preoccupied with speaking to other people around them- that Harry supposed he probably would not be able to glean anymore information from just their body language.
Dinner soon commenced and the whole of the Great Hall roared to life with the sounds of glasses tinkling, forks and knives scraping against plates, and the continuous chatter of all the students and faculty.
Harry was soon able to turn his attention away from Hermione when the Muggle Studies Professor, who was sitting on Harry's other side, began to regale Harry with tales of his students.
Harry liked the professor quite a lot. The Muggle Studies Professor, Professor Gilbert Cornish, was around Bill's age. He had been born in the south-western area of England, but had spent most of his young adult life in France. Gilbert had once explained to Harry how he was Muggle born and how his father had just been relocated to France when his family was visited by a Professor from Hogwarts as well as Beaubaxton. They had given him a choice of going to either school, but due to the distance, they found it more advisable that he remain in France. After he had finished his studies, he had remained at Beaubaxton as an Assistant Professor of Muggle Studies at Beaubaxton until he had been asked by Madame Maxime to help fill in the position here at Hogwarts.
Harry particularly liked Gilbert Cornish because he, unlike the rest of the Wizarding World, had not been overly exposed to Harry and everything he had been up to until this point. Of course he had known about Harry, but it was more in terms of a world famous celebrity in a foreign country that you read about in the news every so often, but not someone you keep track of (unless you are an avid fan). Having been born a muggle, he had not known of any of the wizarding struggles when he was a young boy. And, having grown up in a foreign land during Voldemort's down period (as well as rise back to power), the whole affair had been something far away from him. It could, also just be that age group. Bill had also been pretty cool about meeting Harry- it was possible that Gilbert, like Bill, was just unaffected by hoopla in general.
Gilbert Cornish loved to tell stories about his students that knew nothing about anything muggle related (especially now that Muggle Studies was a required class, Gilbert now had to put up with kids totally uninterested and unknowledgable in anything muggle related). Harry always had a good laugh at the stories, but the stories usually became funnier when Hagrid (who knew very little about muggles as well) would ask why the situation was funny or would make a similar mistake as the student.
Gilbert had just finished a story about a student who had written an extensive extra credit essay on the purposes of bathtub toys and especially the rubber duck- fully elaborating on some of the funnier points the student had made about why the rubber duck was so essential to everyday bathing (i.e. due to their floating nature, they can also act as some sort of flotation device and ensure that muggles do not drown in their own bathtubs). Harry could not help but laugh at the preposterous idea of a rubber duck ever being the topic of any essay, but he and Gilbert had become beside themselves when Hagrid asked (in a very serious tone) if the student had been able to get full marks for his well thought out essay.
Harry's eyes traveled around the room, mostly out of habit, and looked towards where he had last spotted Hermione and Ginny. He realized that both Hermione and Ginny were gone from their seats. Harry's eyes quickly surveyed the room and he found that both witches were not inside the Great Hall. He thought about running after them, but he wasn't even sure when they had vacated their seats let alone where they had gone (or if they were even together). He somehow managed to remain in his seat to finish the food on his plate, before dismissing himself from his colleagues.
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Throughout the night, as Harry patrolled the halls, Harry had found it impossible to get Ginny alone. Every time he had spotted her and began to approach her, she would end up 'spotting someone' and rush off to catch them. He couldn't remember a time when Ginny had been so passionate about her patrol duties.
He found it very off- especially after what he had witnessed earlier in the evening, but he didn't push it. After his fifth attempt (and her fifth evasion), he merely let her be- feeling bad that he was making her constantly run around the halls so as to avoid speaking to him (though he figured she didn't mind as much because she was getting a good workout- now that she was the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, it was important for her to keep herself fit).
But, now Harry was absolutely certain. There was something going on with Hermione- something Ginny was apparently privy to, but not him. He just needed to figure out what it was.
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Harry was beginning to feel like a complete outcast. It had been two excruciatingly long weeks in which he found it absolutely impossible to have a conversation with his friends.
Besides the very occasional owl post Harry got from Ron (this was Ron after all), Harry had not had any form of communication with his supposed friends (at least all of the ones currently residing in the same infrastructure as him- he usually didn't correspond with any of this other friends unless it was via Ron, or during some form of get together). Even Luna would respond to him in a more that unusual way and her eyes would constantly shift back and forth, unable to look directly at Harry.
Harry had even approached the Headmistress about his suspicions, but she had told him she would look into it, and had not followed up. He tried to ask her once more, but she too had become inaccessible (which just further confirmed his suspicions that the problem was a lot bigger than what everyone was trying to play it off as).
And though he found it impossible to get into contact with the Headmistress, she would constantly send him messages- in what Harry could only assume was an attempt to try to distract him by keeping him as busy as humanly possible.
The ploy had definitely worked. He had been buried so deep in work, that even though he had planned on doing some investigation on his own, he had not been able to find any free time to do so. He was pretty sure the busy work was also supposed to keep him occupied enough that he wouldn't notice the fact that his friends were all avoiding him, but that was something hard to miss- especially when you were in love with one of them.
As he was making his way towards the Headmistress' office, he had decided he would try to catch her off guard before he had to leave for Teddy's birthday party.
It was April 5th, and Teddy was officially an year old. Harry was headed to his godson's first birthday, and Harry found it a true blessing amidst all the shite he had been through, not only in the most recent months, but the past few years as well.
It was a small affair, with only himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, a few Aurors, and a few Ministry Officials (friends of Ted Sr.) attending the soiree. Though he knew he should have invited Hermione (or even Ron), he had decided against it- seeing as how Hermione refused to speak with him (and Ron was never known for his perceptivity on not talking about things Harry did not want to talk about). Not mentioning the birthday to either of his friends, he had made it a point to keep the whole thing discreet- which meant that the whole school somehow already knew where he was going. It upset Harry immensely that Hermione had not cared enough to approach him about it herself. But he decided not to dwell on the issue further. After everything he had been through the past couple of months, he was looking forward to some time alone with someone who (he was hoping) wouldn't ignore his endeavors to become closer (though Ron was not actually guilty of doing so).
Harry finally arrived at the gargoyles, and after giving the appropriate password, was admitted onto the stairwell that would lead him towards the office. As the stairwell slowly spun him upwards, he went over his tentative plan of forcing Minerva to divulge any information she had on why Hermione was acting so suspicious. It was a pretty crap plan (all he was planning to do was start asking her questions and hope that she would be so surprised by his forwardness- she would let something slip), but he had found it rather difficult in coming up with a good plan when no one was there to help him (because, if he was being completely honest, he usually wasn't the one with the plans- that was more up Ron or Hermione's alley).
He knocked on the door of the Headmistress' office, and once he heard her response to come in, he opened the door and walked in. As soon as he walked in, it was a rushed flurry of activity as he was forcefully pushed towards the fireplace. Headmistress McGonagall was talking a mile a minute about how Harry had no time and how the floo would be closed off soon. Harry hadn't even realized Minerva McGonagall could speak so fast.
Once he was situated inside the fireplace, the Headmistress placed a pinch of floo powder in Harry's hand and told him to make sure to annunciate. She looked at him expectantly, but Harry, who had plans to ask Professor McGonagall some questions, hesitated. He opened his mouth to ask her a question, but she cut him off and told him once more he had no time.
Admitting his defeat, Harry threw the floo powder into the fire and named his location. Harry felt the familiar tug of the floo network as he zoomed through the system. Once he safely arrived at the Tonks residence, he dusted off any residual ash or powder on his robe before walking out of the fireplace.
Harry cursed his lack of forethought. He should have known that the Headmistress was probably in on whatever Hermione was doing. Or in the very least, he should have known that Professor McGonagall would do whatever necessary to avoid speaking to him- after two weeks of continuous evasion, you'd think he would have learned that she was not willing to speak to him about Hermione or what Hermione was up to.
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Harry forced himself to put all thoughts of Hermione and Hogwarts away when he heard a small gurgle of laughter from his two o'clock direction. Harry focused his thoughts on his surroundings and saw little Teddy inside a baby-pen, looking highly entertained at the magic going on around him. Harry took some steps forward, and just in time too- because the fire flamed up once more and Kingsley Shacklebolt walked out of the fireplace. Teddy clapped his hands together and began to laugh once more. Harry couldn't help but smile at Teddy.
After briefly greeting the Minister of Magic, Harry approached the pen and bent down to pick up Teddy. Harry looked into Teddy's eyes and saw it swirl just a second before the pigment turned an emerald green to match his own eyes. Harry gave a small peck on Teddy's cheek as he adjusted the small boy in his arms.
The fireplace lit up in flames a few more times- each time admitting another Auror or Ministry Official into the Tonks' residence. Each and every time, Teddy's face would light up as well and his hair color would change into a different vibrant color. It seemed as though Teddy's metamorphing was linked to his excitement or something because he was having trouble controlling it (though no one would really expect an one year old to actually be able to control magic, hence the relocation of the Tonks into a purely Wizarding neighborhood- to better accommodate for any accidental magic).
Harry held the child in his arms the whole night- trying to give Andromeda a break. Before he had taken the DADA position at Hogwarts, Harry had made it a point to visit at least once a week- not only to visit Teddy, but also to give Andromeda time to herself. Now that he was living full-time at Hogwarts, he had found it impossible to visit as often- which had been one of the reasons he had not wanted to take the position in the first place. Andromeda had made a couple of visits to Hogsmeade, but Harry had to admit that he had missed Teddy dearly; and felt bad that he was no longer able to help out as much as he'd like.
Harry didn't quite participate in the conversations during the course of the evening, but he had gotten to know Tonks (Nymphadora, that is) just a little better. This particular evening had not been solely to celebrate the birthday boy turning an year older, but also to commemorate the achievements of the birthday boy's parents.
The night wore on very leisurely- all of Harry's time being taken up by tending to Teddy's needs. Harry fed him, bathed him, and put him to sleep. Once Harry had made sure the child was soundly asleep, he bid his goodbyes to the party (everyone slightly drunk from toasting to Tonks, Remus, and Teddy Sr. a bit too many times) and headed out the door.
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As was agreed upon, Harry apparated back into Hogsmeade. He landed in front of the Three Broomsticks- the only shop in Hogsmeade with any traffic at this time of night, and therefore the safest place for Harry to apparate. As soon as he landed, he sent his Patronus ahead of him to let the Headmistress know that he had safely returned to town, and should be arriving back at the school soon.
Given the late hour (though it was only 10 at night), Harry really only had one choice in passage. He began to make his way towards the Shrieking Shack.
On his walk towards the Shack, he belatedly realized that there was a full moon out. He stopped walking in order to gaze at the moon. Though it wasn't exactly the same month he had met Sirius for the first time, the weather and the night was not unlike the one he had experienced that night.
His thoughts lingered on Sirius, on Remus, and then finally on Teddy. Harry was glad that lycanthropy was not an inherited trait. He couldn't imagine such a young babe being inflicted with something so debilitating- with something not even a grown man could control, how would an infant be expected to do so?
Harry kept staring at the moon. His thoughts kept filling up of all his friends and family that he had lost over the years- some of whom he never even got to properly meet or have time to get to know. In just over a month, it would be a year. A full year in which Harry had not felt his scar prickle or hurt. A full year since a lot of his loved ones had fallen.
Though most Wizards and Witches liked to mark that day as a celebratory day of triumph over evil- to Harry... it was the day that he had somehow managed to eliminate Voldemort from the world, the day that Teddy Lupin had lost his parents, the Weasleys lost a son/brother, the day that Harry had lost his life and then gained a new one.
Harry had never really thought that he had lived a life which was riddled with regret. On the contrary, he had always been confident that his actions (though rash at times) were decided and acted upon to the best of his abilities. But that didn't mean he had no regrets. He had about two major regrets that he ended up ruminating over and over in his head from time to time. One was the fact that he had been too rash during his Fifth Year when he had led so many people to an unknown danger at the Ministry of Magic. That night had gone from wrong to worse instantaneously. Harry had not only lost his Godfather, but he had almost lost someone who meant so much more to him, though he hadn't quite acknowledged it at the time.
But, that night- that rash decision had helped him in some ways as well. Voldemort had been exposed as having returned, and finally people could take steps towards fighting against the evil, self-proclaimed lord.
Also, Harry had finally realized, and then placed a name to, the growing feelings he had been harboring for his best friend (Hermione, that is... not Ron... that just... made him shudder... ugh...).
Which, led him to his second biggest regret. Pushing down, and trying to pretend that his feelings for Hermione were non-existent. That his feelings were- and would remain- as platonic as his feelings for Ron.
He had just found out- had finally acknowledged the feelings. He was going to talk to Hermione about it- approach her maybe and let her know that he couldn't imagine a future without her. But then Dumbledore had messed it up by telling him the rest of the damn prophecy. And then everything- his future- his life with Hermione had been trampled upon. Crushed, even before he could begin something.
All of a sudden, he couldn't, no, he didn't want to imagine a future in which Hermione would be riddled with guilt or sadness due to losing a lover (though he had not known if she returned his feelings, he had hoped that she too would somehow know that they were soulmates, that he and she completed each other). But, in the end he made a selfish decision- not even giving Hermione an opportunity, he had squashed their future together down into the pits of hell.
After he had come back from 'the beyond', after he had found out that his life would no longer be in any more danger than the next Joe Shmoe, that was when he had been reborn. That was the moment he had come to regret the fact that he had all but thrust his best friend at the love of his life (as well as distract himself from lashing out at Ron too much with the help of Ginevra Weasley).
In the end, everything had turned out well. But, Harry still had the nightmares- the unhappy dreams in which he was living a miserable life- as the love of his life lives a more than happy life with his best friend- made worse only because he would never do anything to jeopardize either party in their happily ever after.
Thoughts of Hermione began to formulate more clearly in his mind. It never surprised Harry how often and how natural is was to think about Hermione. Everything Hermione did affected him in someway. Her every emotion mattered to him more than his own, her every move indirectly decided every aspect of his own life.
His heart clenched at the thought of Hermione. He was determined.
Tomorrow, he thought, tomorrow I will not take no for an answer!
He began to move towards the Shack once more. His hands were clenched in tight fists- somehow signifying to himself that he was going to find out the answers tomorrow. He would not let McGonagall or anybody stop him from finding out what was going on.
Suddenly, Harry caught sight of a dark shadow passing on his right periphery. His head immediately turned to the right as his hand went to grab at his wand.
He heard the loud 'thunk' before he registered the pain at the back of his head. 'Constant Vigilance' was the last thought he had before his eyes closed and he lost consciousness.
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Harry's eyes opened slowly to a blurry surrounding. He knew immediately that his glasses had been removed from his face. As his eyes opened fully, the bright lights inside the room sharpened the once dull pain behind his eyes. He closed his eyes and opened them slowly once more- making sure he was used to the light before fully opening them. It felt like a swordsmith had somehow managed to wedge his way into Harry's brain. The constant thumping in his head was not unlike how swordsmiths usually banged on metal to create the perfect sword.
His blurry vision made it near impossible for Harry to figure out where he was. The setting was familiar enough that Harry knew he had been there before (at least more than once), but unfamiliar enough that he knew it was not a place he frequented. The walls were shabby and he somehow managed to figure out that it was not a windowless room, but rather that the windows were boarded up. The room looked very worn, and Harry couldn't help but deduce that he was probably inside the Shrieking Shack.
He tried to remember how he had managed to get inside. However, judging by the dull pain he felt coming from the back of his head and the inability to remember anything, he figured he had been knocked out and dragged into the Shack. It was alarming to Harry that his attacker had chosen this particular spot. Was it possible that his attacker knew about everything he had experienced in this run down shack? Also, as far as he knew, no one knew about the entrance he and his friends had haphazardly made so as to be able to enter the Shack from Hogsmeade- or the fact that there was a secret passage to the school. His attacker, whoever he or she was, was a lot more familiar with Harry than Harry was comfortable with.
He realized, quite belatedly, that the room was actually lit up. Harry couldn't ever remember a time in which he had visited the room and it was brightly lit up in such a way (even in daytime, due to all the boarded up windows, little to no sunlight filtered into the room). He wondered if the light was visible from outside, but he figured whoever his attacker was, was probably not so stupid to actually light up an abandoned shack without putting some sort of charm on it to disguise that it was being used.
Harry looked around the room, trying to fight the blurry vision enough to see if his attacker was inside the room with him. No matter how hard he looked, he could not decipher one blurry blob from the next. For all he knew, that slightly dark blob over on the other side of the room could be his attacker and not a chair, as he had first thought, but he had no foreseeable way of finding out.
And most importantly, though Harry was quite embarrassed it had taken him so long to finally realize it (though given that he had just suffered a blow to the head, he was actually pretty sure he was making wonderful progress in recovering his consciousness), he was tied up. He wasn't sure if it was necessarily magical due to the way in which he was bound (kind of sloppily, but it was still very tight), but judging by how little he was able to move, it seemed the rope had been magically enhanced to keep him in place. And given that his attacker had seemed it necessary to bind him and then blind him, Harry thought it was safe to assume that he was without his wand (though he really had no way to check whether he still had it or not- what with his hands being bound to his body and all).
Harry heard a quiet shuffling of cloth from his right. He instinctively turned his head toward the sound, even though he knew he would probably not be able to decipher what was happening or who was there.
He immediately knew that the direction he was looking at, was where the passage towards the school began. He could make out a dark clothed someone or something moving in front of the passage. Harry squinted his eyes to try to discern who or what it was. The dark blurry figure was getting bigger, and Harry knew, that whoever it was, was coming towards him.
Harry's headache from the blow only seemed to amplify everytime he strained to correct his uncorrectable vision. Harry gave up trying to see who it was. Instead, he closed his eyes in order to rest his eyes from the strain, and hopefully (at least momentarily) abate his raging headache.
Harry heard a giggle- an all too familiar giggle- one he had rarely (if ever) heard until a couple of weeks ago- a giggle that made his skin crawl everytime he heard it. Harry's eyes shot open at the sound. He wanted to confirm who it was creating the sound, but somehow knew he would regret finding out.
Harry was finally able to make out two figures standing in front of him. Harry's eyes were bad, but it was unmistakable who the two figures were. One stood at just above average height, a slim figure, with dark brown hair combed neatly in that damn preppy way Nathaniel Kinlan kept it. The second figure, Harry knew he could never mistake for someone else. The second figure was shorter than the first, slimmer than the first, but her hair was infinitely messier than the first figure. A great mane of light brown curls framed the face of Hermione Granger.
Harry merely stared at the two figures standing before him. Nathaniel Kinlan stood tall, looking down at Harry as if Harry were a mere bug. But what was most shocking was not the fact that Nathaniel and Hermione were standing before him, but rather, Hermione could not seem to stop giggling as she clung onto Nathaniel's left arm. Harry could just imagine her batting her eyes as if she were sending a morse code to Nathaniel with every blink.
Nathaniel smirked down at Harry, and in the most venomous voice began to speak. "Hello, Professor Potter." Nathaniel said.
Harry tried to speak, but found that he could not make a sound. Harry had to hand it to Nathaniel, he was the most prepared foe Harry had ever encountered. Harry realized that this was the first time he had ever been completely at someone's mercy with no foreseeable way of escape. He wanted to put some hope in his friend, Hermione, but the way she kept giggling and swaying as she hung onto Nathaniel- only seemed to put Harry into a darker despair.
"Don't look so put out already Potter, it's only the beginning," Nathaniel continued in his venomous tone, "I've seen the way you've been acting as if you're some great big shite or something- and I for one refuse to sit by as you take advantage of Hermione.
"Don't think for a second that just because you have the rest of the world fooled, you could fool me so easily into believing Hermione would ever love you- when just two months ago Hermione was showing her interest in none other than me!"
Hermione giggled again. "Tell him! Oh! Actually, let me tell him! Please, pretty please?" Hermione said in a voice that vaguely reminded Harry of a more whiny Pansy Parkinson (which was saying something). Harry blanched at the disgusting display Hermione was putting on. Harry was actually quite thankful that his glasses had been removed. Harry didn't think he could bare actually seeing Hermione act in such a way.
It seemed like Nathaniel had relented to Hermione's pleas because she began to speak. "You see Harry," she started- as if this was any other conversation in which, she was explaining a particularly hard charm or something, "Nathaniel has helped me to finally fight back against you and your overbearing ways." Hermione said in a matter of fact way.
"He helped me realize that you had probably put me under a spell or a potion to take control of me. At first I obviously didn't believe him, but one day, it was like an epiphany- I realized that I was, in fact, in love with Nathaniel, and everything he told me was true. He helped me fight whatever potion you put me under by giving me the antidote." Hermione finished with a dreamy sigh and giggle as her head turned towards Nathaniel.
Hermione's attention was once again turned back to Harry as she spoke, "You sir, will deserve whatever Nathaniel deems fit as your punishment. I was so furious at you, that when Nathaniel suggested this plan I gave him the idea that we could use this shack for privacy." Harry recognized her tone- it had once been solely reserved for people she disliked (namely Malfoy and his gang).
"You have no control over Hermione now!" Nathaniel shouted out at Harry. "I took a chapter out of your book and I made sure that she responded only to me- her new master." Nathaniel said smugly.
'Control?', 'master' was this kid real? Harry was astonished beyond belief. This kid had actually deluded himself into thinking Harry had drugged Hermione into submission. And had, in turn, actually drugged her so that she would fall in love with him and become obedient to him.
"The antidote Slughorn lent me enabled me to overtake whatever it was you were feeding her, and tweaking her a bit so as to better suit my tastes." he said. Harry duly interpreted the sentence to mean, 'The potion I stole from Slughorn is so ridiculously strong that I was able to essentially make her my slave.' Harry then saw a blurry hand reach up and caress Hermione's cheek- to which he heard another dreamy sigh and giggle. He also realized that Nathaniel seemed to have given Hermione a strong dose of whatever it was- given that he thought that Harry had been poisoning Hermione to begin with.
Harry was actually amazed. His somewhat ludicrous idea of Nathaniel slipping Hermione a love potion- one most likely acquired from Slughorn was right on the nose. He could hardly believe that he had been so right- once again- and no one had believed him or listened to him- again.
Harry's attention was brought back to the present when he heard another giggle from Hermione, and felt nausea overwhelm him at the thought that Hermione was not acting of her own accord. In truth, Harry didn't understand Kinlan. What was the point of 'possessing' Hermione when she was a completely different person? Hermione wasn't Hermione if she wasn't a bit naggy- a bit neurotic- sometimes a bit too caring. It was quite obvious that Kinlan didn't truly love her- just liked the idea of her and what her being next to him entailed (or something). Now, if only Harry could do something about his revelation, he would be just peachy.
"Hermione dear, grab Potter's glasses from that table and put it on his face." Nathaniel ordered Hermione. "I want him to see something before we finish him off," he said gleefully.
Harry saw Hermione's hasty response to Nathaniel's command as she moved about the room and began to approach him. Harry was finally able to make out Hermione's face as she bent low to put his glasses on. Harry tried to convey all of his love for her (trying to communicate to Hermione with his whole body), helplessly asking Hermione to overcome the potion and come back from whatever hell Nathaniel had placed her. However, to Harry's utter dismay, her expression did not falter in the slightest, and instead displayed her disapproval in having to be so close to Harry.
Once Harry's glasses were on, he felt an immediate relief. Though his head was still thumping due to the bump on his head, the pain was not as acute now that his eyes were no longer straining to correct his horrendous eye-sight.
Harry watched as Hermione walked away, back towards Nathaniel. Nathaniel had the nastiest expression on his face as he sneered at Harry. Harry watched as Nathaniel's attention was drawn to Hermione and his face remained nasty but his eyes showcased an unquestionable leer as he licked his lips in an obscene way. If Harry had, at any point, hoped that Hermione had been merely acting as if she were in love with the git- after seeing the abhorrent display of Nathaniel's expression and then Hermione's inexpression of clear disgust- Harry was, without a doubt, certain that all hope was lost.
Harry could surmise what it was, exactly, that Nathaniel thought Harry should see. Harry's guess was only proven to be correct when he saw Nathaniel wrap his arms around Hermione in a possessive way and once again caress Hermione's cheek. Their sides were to Harry as they faced each other and gazed upon their partner's face. For the first time that night, Harry deplored his glasses and the clear vision it provided him. Harry was sure his heart could not take the scene that was about to unravel before him.
Fight as he might, Harry could not move, scream, or otherwise prevent Nathaniel from touching Hermione. Harry could feel pain in his chest at the thought that Hermione was unable to fight the git and the potion- angry that he had not acted sooner, despite, what was now proven to be, a correct assessment of Hermione being in distress. He wanted, no he needed to help Hermione, but he didn't know how.
In a last act of defiance against Nathaniel Kinlan, Harry closed his eyes tight and turned his head away towards his left- making sure he would be unable to see what Nathaniel wanted him to see. However, Harry felt an unmistakably magical tug on his head, as it was righted to face forward; and his eyes were involuntarily opened. Harry tried to look anywhere BUT at the two people in front of him, however, it was to no avail. Harry saw Nathaniel's wand pointed at him as Nathaniel somehow made Harry's eyes focus on himself and Hermione.
Harry's eyes began to water, not only because of his inability to blink (courtesy of the weird charm Nathaniel put on him), but also because the pain he was feeling in his chest, his heart- was becoming too much for him to bear. He didn't care whether he died, or whatever it was Nathaniel was planning on doing to him. He just regretted making Hermione another target of a deranged lunatic once more. He cried as he watched the love of his life take her left hand and gently rub at Nathaniel's upper right arm. Everything made worse with the knowledge that her every move was made under the influence of a potion. Her hands moved lovingly over his upper body, traveling to his chest and then back to his arms as their faces got closer to each other.
Harry, left with no other option, watched as their faces got closer and closer together. Harry's periphery caught Hermione's hands travel the length of Nathaniel's arm- most likely to hold his hand or something. Once their lips had touched and Nathaniel was all but shoving his tongue down Hermione's throat, Harry wished once more that he could turn away.
"Stupefy!" a voice yelled out. Harry watched in disbelief as Nathaniel Kinlan's body was projected a few meters back. Time slowed down during the three seconds in which everything had occurred. Harry had watched as Nathaniel and Hermione shared a kiss, watched as Hermione's hand connected with Nathaniel's- not to hold it (as Harry had initially thought) but to steal Nathaniel's wand from his hand! Just as Nathaniel grew conscious of Hermione's actions, it was already too late. Hermione had shouted out the stunning curse all the while pointing the wand at Nathaniel.
After Nathaniel was blown back, he crumpled to the floor. Hermione walked over to the body of Nathaniel Kinlan and nudged him with her foot. Once Hermione deemed him too unconscious to cause more trouble, she quickly moved over to where Harry had been tied up.
In a frenzied panic, Hermione began trying to untie him as she spoke a mile a minute.
"Oh I'm so sorry Harry! I had known he was going to make his move tonight, but I hadn't realized he would do something stupid like this. And you'll have to forgive me for putting you through what I did for the past few weeks, I had to make sure he didn't suspect that his potion wasn't working. I mean, after all of our investigative work, I had deduced that he was angry with you, though for what I wasn't sure. And with every passing day he kept getting more and more jittery and so I knew- was definitely sure he was the one who had let the spell run loose during the first Dueling Club meeting. But we had also figured out that he had had help. We were finally able to apprehend Ambrose Gates when he had been roaming the halls after curfew- which had led to a body search- which we were then able to find the stolen bottle of Ardeotentia in his robes- which we were then able to trace to what Nathaniel had been slipping into my drinks for the past month.
"You wouldn't believe how hard it is to act like a complete dolt, one completely in love with a git, mind you! But I had to keep close- needed him to trust that I was completely in love with him- I needed him to think that he had bested you. That's why I had to keep you in the dark- I needed you to react the way that you did so that Nathaniel would believe his plan had worked.
"We knew he was going to try something on your way back, but I had to make sure he didn't decide to do something too rash, so I had to pretend that I was furious at you and wanted revenge. I had to tell him about this place in order for him to trust that I was completely under his influence and therefore ensure that I would be present when he decided to attack you. Ugh! Why won't this knot loosen?!" Hermione growled out loudly in frustration. She brandished Nathaniel's wand articulating a spell to cut the ropes loose, but it seemed Harry was fated to remain bound by the rope due to some sort of protective charm on the ropes (from what Hermione had muttered under her breath after exclaiming a few choice words, in the four letter category, upon discovering that her spell did not work).
Harry just sat there staring at Hermione and trying to make sense of everything she had just said. His brain was processing too much information at once. He started with the simplest one- he had become aware that he had full use of his head- it seemed whatever charm Nathaniel had put him under was void if the wand was no longer pointed at him. Then, his mind moved on to the next set of information.
It was Hermione! His Hermione. He registered that somewhere in his heart he was quite angry at her for her deception, but he didn't care! Because... she was here!
Harry's thoughts were abruptly interrupted at the sound of a soft groan coming from Nathaniel's direction. Hermione, who kept muttering nonsense to herself- quite frustrated with the knots that would not come loose, seemed to have not heard Nathaniel beginning to gain consciousness.
Harry tried to get Hermione's attention- trying to get her to turn around or at least shut up long enough to hear the groans, he couldn't believe how much she liked to mutter as she tried to free him of his binds. Harry kept flapping his mouth- trying to make snapping noises with his mouth or at least whistle but found absolutely no sound was being made.
Harry watched as Nathaniel began to move about as he struggled to sit up. Harry, now desperate, began to shake his head as much as he could to get Hermione's attention. Hermione finally looked up at him with a puzzled expression. Harry kept nudging his head in Nathaniel's direction to get her to turn around- as Nathaniel, now having gained enough of his consciousness, had a livid expression on his face and looked as if he was about to rush at them and take Hermione by physical force.
Just as Nathaniel began to charge towards them, Hermione finally turned around.
"Avada Kedavra!" a familiar voice rung out and echoed against the walls. And then, a bright green light, a sight Harry was all too familiar with, flashed through the room and blinded all of the inhabitants in the room.
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