Chapter Text
Harry Potter sat tucked to the edge of the booth table the group had picked out for tonight’s gathering at The Wren and Thistle. One of the few consistent traditions they had made sure to keep after the war ended.
He looked around the table at the group. Luna sat in the opposite corner of the table, her dirty blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun tonight. Neville sat to her left, and George Weasley and Angelina Johnson took the final two seats. On his side of the table, Parvati Patil was seated furthest from Harry, Ron sat next to her, nestled close to Hermione who was sitting just to Harry’s right.
George was animatedly explaining about some new exploding variant of puking pastilles he was working on; he swore that they would cause no actual physical harm to the eater, but these would get you out of more than just class for a day. Angelina playfully swatted his arm after George mimicked the explosion startling the table next to them. She mouthed an apology for him as he looked at her with one of his classic grins, a smile that Harry noticed no longer reached his eyes. Not since the Battle of Hogwarts.
That single thought, and everything started to rise. Harry absentmindedly twirled his rocks glass, rolling the dregs, and thought about something he had read. Something from a book he was certain Hermione had gifted him.
Softly he took a deep breath in and held it in his chest for a moment.
One.
He glanced around the restaurant. Embers beneath the hearthstone stove, tucked cozily in the back of the kitchen, crackled as the burning wood glowed an orange and yellow.
Two.
Notes of saffron and cardamom wafted in the air as servers moved from table to table.
Three.
Ting-a-ling. The bell above the entrance of The Wren and Thistle told him that another patron had just entered; whoever it was, they were not a member of tonight’s group.
Four.
“And what about you, Harry?” The lilting voice of Luna Lovegood pulled his attention back to the table.
Harry’s eyes snapped to the person who just called his name as he clutched the glass before it could tip. Her familiar silvery eyes trained on him in a way that always made Harry feel half-read. But the dreamy gaze never seemed to betray her actual intentions.
“How has Auror training been for you of late?” she clarified.
Harry pondered the question for a second.
“Honestly, early morning practices with Wood were far more grueling,” Harry said as he smiled looking at George and Angelina. Both seemed to scoff at his comment as George reached over to place his arm over her shoulder.
His gaze moved across every face that looked in his direction as he began speaking, all except for Hermione’s. He already knew she could see through his sarcasm. But he had to say something, he thought.
“Instructor Tharsi is competent and clear in training with us, but his methods are about as gentle as the Whomping Willow,” Harry admitted quite easily. “Practicals are in a few months, and study hasn’t been too bad. Good thing I still have Hermione around.”
Hermione’s hand instinctively moved from under the table to pat his arm.
“Mate, I never understood why you decided to go through with the training,” Ron said to Harry while signaling the waitress over.
“Some things are better when you take the long way around, Ron,” Hermione simply replied before Harry could think of a response.
“So, Junior Auror Weasley,” George interjected with a pompous tone, “how are you feeling in the field skipping the training?”
The table began laughing, Harry especially glad that the attention was off him as all eyes turned to Ron. Harry felt a light squeeze on his arm and looked down at the hand still atop it.
It’s okay.
“Well honestly, the hunts have been pretty simple. Me and Jasper…”
“Jasper and I,” Hermione corrected.
“Yeah, of course,” Ron just smiled before continuing. “Well, we’ve been hunting a bunch of dark artifacts that have been showing up more and more in Muggle shops. Illegal bookshops in West Sussex, behind Muggle taverns, and even hidden in the back of those Muggle shops, the ones with all the potions that aren't really potions – chemists, they call them.”
Ron continued talking about his time with his trainer-and-partner Alexi Jasper. He was a gruff-looking wizard a few inches taller than Ron.
Harry felt his focus drift as the noise of the restaurant seemed to rise even more. He steadied his breath again, placed his hands in his lap, and let his eyes wander.
One.
Hanging at her collarbone, a silver necklace lay against her skin. A crossed pair of feathers that looked reminiscent of phoenix feathers.
Two.
The earthy smell of mud still stuck to the side of Neville’s boots floated from the floor as he shuffled his feet.
Three.
Owah ha ha. Madam Highland, the owner of the restaurant, began to laugh, a low booming but infectious laugh, from somewhere in the kitchen drawing Harry’s attention.
“Would you like another drink, sir?” the waitress Ron had called over interrupted.
Harry’s right hand jolted to the empty glass in front of him, “Oh, no. I’ve had enough for the night, thanks. I’ll just take the check.”
Hermione slowly turned her head Harry’s direction as Ron continued whispering in her right ear. She offered a polite but knowing smile as she caught his eye.
I suppose we’ll have to talk soon, Harry thought to himself.
The group started to rise from their seats saying their farewells and planning the next outing. “Hopefully when a certain Weasley is allowed to come,” Harry overheard George tease as he walked toward Angelina who stood at the bar. He watched them argue over who was covering their tab. Parvati and Luna exchanged hugs with those left at the table before heading out the door together. Neville waved to everyone before heading to the bar with George and Angelina.
“I’m going to use the loo before we head out,” Ron told Hermione, then leaned in to kiss her cheek while she remained seated.
Harry stared at the empty seats in front of him and took a breath.
One.
He saw George pull a coin purse from his pocket.
I guess he won the argument.
Two.
The faintest hint of jasmine.
She doesn’t wear that perfume often.
Three.
Thunk. The sound of a door closing in the distance.
Ron just entered the bathroom.
Four.
Harry finally picked up the glass and placed it on his lips. He tipped it back and the taste of caramel and vanilla spilled against his tongue from the Irish whiskey.
He swallowed as he rested the glass, and his arm, back on the table.
Five.
The tender weight of a hand settling over his right.
With the final breath released, he looked down at his hand and traced it all the way to its owner.
“Harry…”
She had said his name countless times in the eleven years they had known each other, but never had it felt this way before. She barely spoke above a whisper. But he heard her, and he knew what she was asking. All she had to say was his name.
You okay?
What’s different? he asked himself.
“Yeah… I’m fine, Hermione,” he lied. “You know, it’s the end of training. It’s a lot to study. Charms, curses, counter-curses, potions, and then dueling practice. I’m… I’m trying to be ready.”
Harry watched as she studied his face for a moment. His jaw tightened as her eyes traced the shadow of stubble that he had meant to shave that morning. Soon they had settled back into his own eyes as he gazed into the soft brown irises that seemed to question him further.
He looked down at the hand on his and closed his eyes.
“Oh Harry — be careful.”
***
The Patronus – Third Year
Something had changed, Harry noted to himself. Or had it always been this way?
At the edge of the lake, Harry had already hidden himself behind the bush. A thick weight of anticipation clung to his chest. The time turner had given him a chance to see his father one more time.
Across the lake, he watched as the dementor settled just above himself and Sirius. The chill of the lake, the swarm of the dementors above, and the low rustle of wind rippling through the trees filled his mind as he focused on the spot before him.
“Come on, dad,” Harry whispered to himself.
The dementor began to lift its hood and flew closer to his body lying motionless on the ground across the lake.
He inched forward breathlessly but nothing happened.
No one is coming…
And then it hit him — Hermione was right!
The weight, the anticipation, the despair of being powerless dropped in an instant.
“…bravery,” he heard a tiny voice in his mind say.
He hadn’t seen his father — he had seen himself.
Harry sprang from behind the bush and pulled out his wand. He stilled his breath for a moment and focused.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
From the tip of his wand burst a brilliant white light. Not a formless mist but a blinding, dazzling, silver animal.
He felt a charge of energy rush along his wand arm. Something he’d never felt before. The animal began galloping silently away from him, across the black surface of the lake.
It lowered its head and charged at the swarming dementors…
The billowing cloak of the two dementors floating above Harry and Sirius instantly jerked away from the light, from the energy. Higher and higher they retreated into the air with the swarm of other dementors. But the Patronus was now galloping around the lake. Then its steps seemed to peel from the surface.
It rushed towards the dementors in the air. Until the black masses of cloaks in the air were falling back, scattering, retreating into the darkness.
Then they were gone.
The Patronus turned and landed back at the edge of the lake.
Harry finally opened his eyes fully to look at the energy. It was cantering back towards him across the still surface of the water.
It wasn’t a horse.
It wasn’t a unicorn, either.
It was a stag.
It was shining as bright as the moon above. A brilliant bluish-white stag.
It had stopped just before him on the bank.
Harry watched it approach, noticing that its hooves made no mark on the soft ground. Harry could only stare into its large, silver eyes.
Slowly, it bowed its antlered head.
“Prongs,” he whispered in realization.
But as his trembling fingertips stretched toward the creature, it vanished.
The weight slowly started to creep back up.
Harry stood there, hand still outstretched and let out a soft breath. A second later, he heard hooves behind him, he turned and saw Hermione dashing toward him, practically dragging Buckbeak behind her.
And the weight disappeared completely.
“What did you do?” she said fiercely. “You said you were only going to keep a lookout!”
“I… just saved our lives…,” said Harry meekly, feeling scolded. “I’ll explain.”
Hermione listened to what had just happened, her jaw dropping further with each word.
“Harry, I can’t believe it — you conjured up a Patronus that drove away all those dementors! That’s very, very advanced magic…”
“I knew I could do it this time,” said Harry, “because…”
He paused briefly to think.
“I’d already done it… Does that make sense?”
But that wasn’t the whole truth.
I had seen myself do it… but there was also a memory.
***
Before the Black Flames, First Year
The breeze of cold air around the lake ceased instantly. Things remained as dark and dank as before, but now a bright purple color cascaded from the corner of Harry’s eyes.
Flames.
Next to him was a table with a collection of seven bottles sitting atop. Each bottle a different shape.
In his chest, Harry felt heaviness.
Harry knew the black flames were behind him. The bushy-haired girl standing a few steps from him was right, he thought. He had no idea what was waiting for him beyond, but he had to be brave.
“Maybe, I’ll get lucky again…”
He watched as Hermione’s lip trembled and suddenly, like a bolt, she dashed at him and wrapped her arms around him.
No one had hugged me before, Harry thought as he returned the gesture instinctively. At least not since I’d been with the Dursleys…
“Hermione…” Harry had meant to sound shocked, but the words seemed softer than he had expected.
“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.”
“I’m not as good as you,” said Harry, feeling a warmth begin to radiate in his cheeks. A weight began to cascade down his body as she gently pulled back.
“Me!” Hermione sounded shocked. “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things…”
A slight pause hung in the air before she finished.
“Friendship…,” she said as she looked up at him. “…and bravery…”
Suddenly, all the noise quieted.
“And — oh Harry — be careful!”
***
Present Day
“I will…,” Harry kept his eyes closed as he spoke. Another light squeeze of his hands seemed to urge him to open them, so he did. He looked up into her eyes and tried to muster as much sincerity as possible before he added, “I promise.
“Besides, I have you to make sure I pass all the knowledge exams,” Harry continued with a halfhearted attempt at a smirk. “I can count on you for that, right?”
“You’ll have to pass on your own. But of course, I’ll help you study.”
Harry feigned offense at the idea that she wouldn’t simply give him all the answers, as he gasped indignantly. Hermione began to laugh and then Harry soon followed.
“So, how’s the work going with convincing Wessick and the Council to integrate the Society within the Ministry?”
Hermione’s eyes lit up as Harry finished his question. Harry felt ready to listen to her entire treatise on house elf equality as he knew that she was entirely capable of speaking about the subject for hours to anyone willing to listen. And he had time, but he had also known that once Ron came back, the night was officially over.
Hermione could sense it too.
“Are you still up for it this year?” she asked.
He knew what she was asking. Harry had rarely spent holidays alone anymore, not since being almost adopted by the Weasleys. But the upcoming holiday was not one he’d looked forward to for some time.
He nodded. The only response his body would allow.
She turned to him and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Having rested her head on his shoulder, she breathed his name.
“Harry…”
I need air.
Harry softly pulled away, carefully brushing his thumb under his eyes.
“I think I need air,” he announced. “The noise in here, y’know. The time of year.”
Hermione replied, “Of course. We’ll be right out.”
***
The chilled autumn breeze finally hit Harry as he stepped outside.
It hadn’t been just the holiday.
It hadn’t even been the noise.
And despite what everyone else probably thought, Harry knew it hadn’t been the breakup either.
“Harry, we should talk…,” he had remembered her saying a couple of months ago.
There was no argument. He knew she was right.
He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and lifted his shoulders. The collar of his jacket dug into his neck as he watched the breath escape his mouth.
He hadn’t changed since the war started.
But what was different about tonight?
Something had definitely changed…
“Evening Mr. Potter,” came a voice from a silhouette across the street. Harry instantly recognized the man carrying a few rolls of tattered cloth into the shop across from him.
“Evening, Mr. Charles,” Harry returned with a nod.
The door to the restaurant opened and a group of three older wizards walked out. One of them had a particularly red and round cherub face that Harry knew meant he’d had too much firewhiskey. As they stood near the door discussing the upcoming Quidditch match, the distinct hushed tone of Hermione floated to his ear.
“Let’s talk about this at home.”
“I’m serious Hermione, I want to tell them soon,” Ron urged. For a moment there was nothing. No reply and then, “Where’s Harry?”
“Outside,” she spoke softly, “he’s waiting for us.”
“Ave a lovely evenin’, Mis’r Potter,” the cherub-faced man slurred in his direction before they had all walked away.
A moment later, Ron led Hermione through the front door.
“Harry, tell me you’re not going back to that lonely place by yourself tonight,” Ron said as they both approached him. “You can always come over and crash on the sofa.”
Grimmauld was home.
“No, it’s fine, Ron. I couldn’t intrude,” Harry said as he looked over at Hermione.
She returned a quick smile.
An unexpected weight sunk in his chest.
At least, it had been before…
“She doesn’t come to visit that often, if this is about…”
“You always pick this place, Harry,” Hermione said with an honest grin. “Why is that?”
Harry stepped closer to them.
“Another trainee from last year, he recommended this place. Madam Highland is his aunt. He would bring in her cooking and share it with me,” Harry said, smiling. “Plus, they have the best Muggle whiskey I’ve ever had.”
Ron wrapped an arm around Hermione, and she looked up at him.
“I guess we should apparate home,” Ron said, then turned to look at Harry. “See you at the Ministry?”
“Of course.”
“You headed home?” Hermione asked.
“Just going to walk a bit before I do.”
“Oh Harry…”
“Be careful. I will,” he replied.