For Your Love

Chapter 9 - First Impressions

Hermione strode along the seventh floor corridor toward the Gryffindor common room with the newly sorted Gryffindor first years following close behind her. Reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, she stopped and turned to address the younger ones, causing the older Gryffindors to stack up behind them.

"Welcome to Gryffindor Tower," she beamed. "This is the Fat Lady. She guards the entrance to our common room and dormitories, where you'll be living and spending most of your time while you are at Hogwarts."

"Oi, Hermione! What's the password?" Seamus grumbled from the back of the crowd.

"The password for this year," she said to the first years as if she had not heard Seamus, "is 'Jobberknoll.' You just need to say that to the Fat Lady and she will open to..."

"Jobberknoll!" Seamus yelled, causing the portrait to swing forward, bumping Hermione in the rear and forcing her to stand aside.

The Gryffindors, including most of the first year boys, scrambled through the portrait hole, talking excitedly. Ron and Harry brought up the end of the line and paused before going in.

"Sorry," said Ron, patting her on the shoulder. "It's not like we needed to hear the speech. But you go ahead," he smiled, gesturing to the few remaining first years standing obediently to the side, "you're doing a great job."

Hermione pursed her lips as Ron ducked through the hole. Harry shrugged apologetically before following him.

She turned back to the young faces staring at her expectantly and sighed. "Alright, in you go then."

The common room was bright and cozy with a roaring fire. The noise continued as groups of friends clumped together, sharing news and gossip. Some third year boys had already set off a few Whiz-Bangs in the corner, much to the delight of the third year girls.

Hermione groaned. "I thought I was rid of Fred and George already," she mumbled as she started across the room, only to be swept up from behind by Ron.

"C'mon," he whispered in her ear, "it's the first night back. Let them have some fun."

She frowned, but didn't go any further. "Alright, I suppose it doesn't hurt to let them get it out of their systems. But," she said, turning around to face him, "can you see that the first year boys get up to their room? Show them around?"

Ron looked over the top of the crowd, spotting a blonde head next to his sister. "Colin!" he yelled. Colin looked up and made his way over. "Can you take the firsties up to their room and get them settled in?"

"Sure," Colin smiled. "Be glad to." He walked away to round up the boys as Ron smiled in a self-satisfied way. Hermione, however, was not amused.

"What?" he asked innocently.

She rolled her eyes and crossed to the fire, perching on the arm of the couch next to Harry while Ron flopped into the armchair.

Harry had been watching Ginny out of the corner of his eye, hoping for some sort of glance or acknowledgement from her. But she had been studiously ignoring him since they had arrived at school.

Now that Colin had left her side, she seemed unsure of what to do with herself. Her eyes flickered toward the fire, passing over Harry, but he knew she had seen him. If only she would look at him.

Hermione fidgeted, looking around the room. "I'd better go get the new girls upstairs."

"Let me do it, Hermione," Ginny called, perking up at the prospect of something to do. "I don't mind. I'm going up anyway."

"Oh... Okay, thanks," Hermione smiled.

Ginny gathered the four young girls and shepherded them up the stairs. Harry exhaled loudly, and Hermione turned to him with a sympathetic grin.

"What's the matter?"

"She's still mad. She won't even look at me."

"Harry, go to bed," she said, rubbing his arm. "Get a good night's sleep and then talk to her tomorrow."

"Thanks. Are you going to call me 'dear' now and pat my head like Mrs. Weasley?"

Ron laughed from his chair and Hermione swatted his arm. "Fine, be that way."

* * *

Ginny watched as the girls wandered into the room and found their trunks. They seemed so small, she thought, far too small to be away from home on their own. She smiled, remembering herself as a new firstie at Hogwarts. But it had already seemed like home to her when she came.

Only one of the girls, a pixyish little thing with a dark brown ponytail and lightly freckled nose, seemed to feel immediately comfortable in the new room, putting away her clothes and arranging her nightstand in a no-nonsense, unconcerned fashion. The other three looked slightly less sure of themselves.

"Well, I'm Ginny Weasley, sixth year prefect. Welcome to Gryffindor. I'll let you get settled in, but if you need anything, I'm right upstairs."

A girl with light brown hair who was a little taller than the others looked up from her trunk and smiled. But the other two, both fair-skinned blondes, were fidgeting by their beds, looking very nervous and shy.

"Ginny?" one of them said. "Could you help me? I never even knew I was a witch until I got my Hogwarts letter, and I'm not really sure what to do. Do I have to use magic to put my things away?"

Ginny smiled. "No, of course not. You'll learn all of that later." She went over and sat on the bed. "What's your name?

"Emma."

"So, are your parents Muggles, then?"

Emma nodded. "I guess that's what you'd call them. Aren't you from a Muggle family as well, Charlotte?"

The other blonde girl nodded.

"Well, I promise that you will love Hogwarts," said Ginny. "There's no better house than Gryffindor. To be in Gryffindor, the hat must have seen that you are very brave. Did you know that?" They shook their heads. "You'll get to learn all sorts of new things and meet some wonderful, interesting people."

"Like Harry Potter?" The ponytail girl perched on the end of her bed with a knowing smile. "Olivia and I saw him downstairs."

"Oh, Ginny," gasped Olivia, "was that really Harry Potter, sitting by the fire?"

Ginny, taken aback by the sudden mention of Harry, just smiled and nodded.

"My mummy told me about him. Did he really defeat the Dark Lord when he was just a baby?" she asked.

"Yes, he did," the ponytail girl interrupted. "I know all about him. My grandmother has met him. She says he's a very powerful wizard, but he gets into a lot of trouble."

Ginny couldn't help but be amused and a little annoyed at this girl's presumption. "What did you say your name was?"

"Miranda Hopkirk."

"Hopkirk? So, your grandmother is..."

"Mafalda Hopkirk. She works in the Improper Use of Magic Office at the Ministry. Did you know that he conjured a corporeal Patronus against some dementors when he was only fifteen?"

"I did know that," Ginny smirked.

"Who's Harry Potter?" asked Emma.

"Who's Harry Potter? Only the most famous wizard in the world," snorted Miranda. "He has a scar on his forehead, that's how you can tell who he is. I heard that he's so powerful, he doesn't even have to use a wand."

"Of course he has to use a wand," said Ginny, "just like everyone else."

"How do you know?" asked Olivia, whose eyes had grown wide.

"He's the most famous wizard in the world?" Charlotte squeaked.

"Listen," Ginny said to everyone. "Harry is a very good friend of mine. Yes, he's very famous, but he wouldn't want you to think of him that way. He would rather you just think of him as a regular bloke. And if you need to ask questions or want to know anything about him, just ask me," she raised her eyebrows meaningfully at Miranda, "or Hermione Granger. She's the Head Girl."

"What's he like, Ginny?"

"He's so handsome, I almost died when I realized it was him."

Ginny laughed at their unabashedness, then became thoughtful.

"He's a good person. And very brave. And a good friend." She smiled wistfully, realizing that it was good to remind herself of exactly who Harry was to her. "Well, I think that's enough for tonight. You girls finish up and then get to bed."

She let herself out and began to climb the stairs to her room, lost in thought.

Was it really only yesterday that it was just him and me at the Burrow? Seems like ages. The way he held my hand and looked at me, I was so sure. But he said it, didn't he. "I don't want people thinking you're my girlfriend." Well, you don't get much clearer than that. But can we still be friends?

Friends. Ginny mulled the word over in her mind. What did it even mean?

She paused, looking down the stairs, and could see the dim light of the fire flickering in the doorway at the bottom. She had a sudden aching in her chest to go down and see if he was still there. Just to see him, just to look into his eyes and know that she hadn't ruined everything.

No. She shook her head. She wouldn't go chasing after him. She had been that girl once, and she did not want to be her again. He didn't want her. End of story.

She climbed the stairs and stood outside the door to her room. She could hear her dormmates inside, chattering. Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile on her face, she opened the door.

* * *

The fire in the common room hearth had dwindled down until it was nothing more than glowing embers. The room was empty save for a boy who still sat on the couch, chewing his thumbnail and staring into the dark. He had turned at the distant sound of a door coming from the girls' staircase. He waited, but heard nothing more.

She's not coming down.

Harry sighed and rose from the couch, making his way up to the top of the tower.

"Harry! We were wondering what happened to you."

"Hi, Neville," Harry smiled pleasantly at his old friend. "Have a good summer?"

"It was alright. I was sorry I missed you at Diagon Alley," Neville said, climbing into bed. "How was yours?"

Harry paused, staring into his open trunk, looking for his pajamas. "It was nice, actually. Thanks."

Ron came in from the bathroom and stopped next to Harry. "It's about time. Did you talk to her?"

Harry shook his head. Ron slapped him on the back and moved over to his own bed. After a few minutes of shuffling through his trunk and changing into his green pajama bottoms, Harry crawled into his own familiar four-poster, where he finally succumbed to sleep.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Harry had just begun to tuck in to his sausages when a flurry of owls soared through the windows of the Great Hall. He suddenly didn't feel very hungry as he watched a large brown owl land in front of Hermione, who was sitting across from him next to Ron. She took the rolled up newspaper from the owl and deposited a bronze Knut in its pouch before it flew away.

Harry watched her face as she scanned the front page of the Daily Prophet. "Just tell me quick. How bad is it?" He screwed his eyes shut, preparing for the worst.

"Well, nothing on the front page. That's good."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced down the table to where Ginny was sitting with her roommates, Maura and Anna. They were chattering away at her, but Harry noticed that she too was watching the owls with apprehension.

"Nothing on page two," Hermione continued, spreading the paper in front of her and flipping the pages while Ron looked over her shoulder. "Nothing on the Quidditch page..."

"Hey, can I see that?" Ron asked, pulling the sports section from her. She looked at him with an inscrutable expression before turning over to the back cover of the paper. "And nothing on the society page. Nothing."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Are you joking?" He grabbed the paper and thumbed through it quickly, not believing his luck. But Hermione knit her eyebrows together in confusion.

"Something's not right. Why would they give up the chance to put something about you in the paper? Especially if they had pictures to go with it?"

She looked up and down the table until she spotted something that made her face relax into the look Harry knew all too well as the expression she got when she had just figured out something. He followed her gaze to were Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil sat, hunched over a magazine and giggling together.

Hermione stood up and walked down the table, stopping to talk to Parvati, and returned clutching two magazines in her hand.

"I thought so," she said, tossing them down in front of Harry.

One was Witch Weekly, which he recognized as the magazine that had originally run the gossip articles about he and Hermione a few years before. The other was a newer magazine called Modern Young Witch. Both had small inset photos on their covers of Harry hurrying Ginny onto the Hogwarts Express with captions that read "Harry Potter Returns To School, But Is He Alone?" and "Has Harry Found Love At Last?"

Hermione flipped quickly through Witch Weekly, finding the small blurb and photo in the "Celebrity Sightings" section.

"Well," she said, "you were right. They think she's your girlfriend. It even talks about how she was with you at that Quidditch match this summer."

"They weren't alone. I was there, too," Ron protested, taking the magazine from Hermione.

"A fact they conveniently left out," Hermione fumed. The story was much the same in Modern Young Witch.

"At least they didn't know you were living at the Burrow," Ron pointed out. "They would have had you two practically married." He shook his head in disgust.

Harry looked at Ginny, seeing that she was also reading one of the magazines. When she finished, she slammed it down on the table and stood up. Her friends tried to calm her, but she yanked her bag onto her shoulder and quickly left the hall, not even glancing at Harry as she passed.

He made to stand up and go after her, but Hermione reached across the table and grabbed his arm. "No. Stay here."

"Hermione, I have to talk to her."

"Not now. If you go rushing out after her, everyone will see you. They're already waiting to see what your reaction will be. If you really don't want people to think you are together then just stay put."

"I'll go," said Ron, grabbing another piece of toast and hurrying out of the hall after Ginny.

Harry turned discreetly to look at the other tables and saw that there were indeed several pairs of eyes trained on him. They were mostly female eyes, though he noticed that Draco Malfoy was also looking in his direction with a malevolent sneer.

"Eat some breakfast," Hermione directed. "Just try and act normal."

Harry stabbed at his plate, but didn't end up eating much of anything. After an interminable amount of time, he asked, "Can we go now?"

Hermione looked at her watch. "Yes, let's head down to the dungeons. We don't want to be late for Potions."

"No," he said sarcastically, "we certainly wouldn't want that."

They joined the queue outside of dungeon five when Draco Malfoy, looking up from the group of Slytherins he was talking to, strode over to them.

"Well, Potter," he spat, crossing his arms. "Can't even manage to get on a train without an entourage to record your every move. The witches in this world must be really desperate if they're interested in your love life. Or lack thereof, by the look of Weasley's reaction at breakfast."

"I don't have time for you today, Malfoy. Why don't you go pick on someone of your own intelligence. Oh look, here come Crabbe and Goyle," he added facetiously.

"Ah," he said, turning to Hermione, "so you haven't trained him to keep his mouth shut as well, then?"

Harry's eyes flashed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Stop it, both of you. Now," Hermione hissed. But they paid no attention to her.

"You know, Potter, when you're done with Weasley, you should let me know. Maybe I could show her what she's been missing all these years while she's been pining after you."

Harry's cheeks colored in fury as he advanced on Malfoy. "Don't you go near her! You foul..."

"STOP IT!" Hermione threw herself between them, pushing with one hand on Harry's chest and the other on Draco's. "Harry, you do not want detention from Snape on the first day back." Draco smirked in triumph, but she wheeled around to face him as well. "And neither do you. You are the Head Boy!"

The fire in Draco's eyes cooled considerably. "I am well aware of who I am, Granger."

The boys continued to glare at each other silently, but slowly backed away from Hermione just as Professor Snape opened the dungeon door. His eyes darted from Draco to Harry to Hermione, seeming disappointed that he had not caught them in whatever argument he had clearly heard through the door. He looked around at the assembled group of seventh years.

"Well," he said through tight lips, "would you all like to grace my classroom with your presence or have we given up learning in favor of gawking at Witch Weekly's favorite celebrity again?"

The class filed into the cool, dim room. Harry took a stool next to Hermione near the back while Snape swept up to the front of the class, robes billowing.

"You have nine months in which to prepare for your NEWT examination in Advanced Potions. Judging by the performance of this class last year, I'd say you all have your work cut out for you... with few exceptions." His eyes flicked briefly over the table at the front where Draco sat smugly next to Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott.

Snape had allowed nearly all of the Slytherins in Harry's year into his Advanced Potions class following their OWL exams in fifth year, with the notable exceptions of Crabbe and Goyle, and he delighted in favoring them above all the other students in his class.

"This year, we will be dissecting and brewing antidotes." He paused to tap his wand on the blackboard behind him. The names of the students appeared, two by two. "Your partners for this term are listed on the board. You will choose two potions from this list and two from this list," he said, striking the board with two sharp raps, causing the lists to appear, "to be completed by the end of first term."

Harry looked at the lists of potions. One group was titled "Healing Drafts" and the other "Restorative Draughts." He then looked over the list of partners and saw that he was paired with Eleanor Bridgeton. Eleanor was a Ravenclaw. Harry had never spoken to her before that he could recall, but he recognized her from the previous year's Advanced Potions class. She was certainly an improvement over the partners he had had to endure then: Blaise Zabini of Slytherin and Ernie MacMillan of Hufflepuff respectively.

"As seventh years, you will be permitted access to my private storeroom for any restricted ingredients you may require. I will remind you that you may only gain access to my storeroom by obtaining direct permission from me... a detail that some of you have overlooked in past years."

His eyes rested on Harry, whom he had long suspected, but never proven, to be behind the various ingredients that had gone missing from his private stores in the years since Harry had come to Hogwarts. But Harry, no longer intimidated by Snape's threats and innuendos, returned his sneer with a calm, disinterested look.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, what is the difference between a Healing Draft and a Restorative Draught?"

Hermione shifted nervously beside him, but Harry knew she did not dare feed him any answers while Snape was paying such close attention.

"A Healing Draft is used to cure a magically induced disease or curse. And, um, a Restorative Draught is used to restore the person to full health after they've been cured."

Hermione tutted beside him and shook her head slightly.

"Typical," Snape replied, looking down his hooked nose. "You think you have all the answers when you really only know half the story. Five points from Gryffindor."

As Harry rarely ever spoke in Potions class without Snape finding some excuse to take points from Gryffindor, he was grateful that he had only lost five points for his house. He knew he must have gotten at least part of the answer correct.

"Would anyone care to enlighten Mr. Potter on the correct definition of a Restorative Draught?" He turned his back to Harry, preemptively ignoring Hermione's automatically raised hand. "Miss Bridgeton?"

All eyes turned to the slim girl with long dark hair in the middle of the classroom. She sat up straight and held her head high.

"A Restorative Draught is used to restore a human or other being to its original state after it has been physically altered by a spell, curse, or transfiguration."

"Correct. You may have Mr. Potter's five points for Ravenclaw. Perhaps with you as a partner, he may be able to achieve higher than a 'D' on his NEWTs after all." This earned a round of sniggering from the Slytherins and a scornful glare from Snape in Harry's direction.

"Thank you, sir," Eleanor said, though she did cast a brief, apologetic glance at Harry.

Snape strode back up to his desk and faced the class. For the next half-hour, he lectured on the uses and properties of some of the more obscure potions ingredients they would be using. Finally, just as Harry's hand was starting to cramp from taking notes, he closed his book and sat down.

"For the remainder of class you will research and begin preparations for your first potion. Move to your partner. Now."

There was a scuffle of stools and bags as the class rearranged itself. It was Hermione's turn to be partnered with Blaise, and she moved to the front of the room, settling beside him and pulling out her textbook with a businesslike air that made Blaise glance at Draco and roll his eyes. Draco snorted sympathetically in return as he dropped his bag next to Anthony Goldstein at the table behind them. It really was a pity, he thought, that such a spectacular intelligence should be wasted on a person of such inferior blood as Hermione Granger.

On the other side of the room, Eleanor joined Harry and took the seat that Hermione had vacated.

"Hi, I'm Eleanor," she smiled, "but people call me Ellie. It's funny, but I don't think we've ever really been introduced before." Her long brown hair, clipped up with barrettes, cascaded around her shoulders as she leaned to pull her ink and parchment out of her bag. Harry was struck at once by her clear, blue eyes. She looked oddly familiar, but he couldn't think who she reminded him of. He supposed he must just be remembering her from class the previous year.

"Hi, I'm Harry," he said, but realized immediately by the amused look on her face that an introduction wasn't necessary. "But I guess you already knew that," he mumbled, embarrassed.

She merely smiled.

They looked through the textbook and discussed their notes before deciding to tackle the Angelica Healing Draught, used to reverse the affects of the Possession Curse, a dark magic by which a person was possessed by the spirit of another entity. Harry couldn't help but think of Ginny and wondered, if it had been known that she was possessed by the spirit of Tom Riddle, if this potion could have helped her and avoided many of the events surrounding the opening of the Chamber of Secrets.

Ellie gathered their list of ingredients and handed it over to Professor Snape for approval before disappearing into the stockroom while Harry prepared their tools and cauldron. She returned with two jars and a handful of flowers.

"Here," she said, handing Harry a jar. "You slice up this angelica root and I'll chop the cornflowers."

They worked in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the dull rocking of the knives on the wooden cutting boards. While he worked, Harry kept glancing at Ellie with a slightly furrowed brow.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked finally.

Startled out of his thoughts, Harry shook his head and smiled. "Sorry. You just remind me of someone, but I can't think who."

"I hate it when that happens," she said, continuing to dice the blue petals.

Harry reached for another angelica root, but his hand knocked the jar and it crashed to the floor, causing everyone to stop their work and look up at the sound. Professor Snape strode over to their table and narrowed his eyes.

"Are you completely inept, Potter, or do you save it all for my class? Ten points from Gryffindor. And clean up this mess. Unless your Reparo work is as shoddy as your Potions work?"

Harry clenched his jaw and managed to grind out a "No, sir." He pulled out his wand and repaired the shattered jar in an instant, then knelt to scoop up the fallen angelica root from the floor.

"I do apologize, Miss Bridgeton, for placing you with this poor excuse for a partner. But I had no choice. You seemed the most likely to be able to compensate for his inabilities."

"Quite alright, sir," Ellie said, restraining herself from giving a more brusque reply. She looked at Harry as Snape returned to his desk.

"Your day is just going from bad to worse, isn't it?"

Harry gave a short laugh. "Thanks for noticing."

"It's bollocks the way he treats you," she whispered, now attacking her flowers with renewed fervor. "There's no reason for it other than pure spite. What has he got against you anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "I was born."

Ellie stopped her chopping and looked up at him, the weight of his simple statement striking her forcefully. In all of her years at Hogwarts, she, along with the rest of the school, and watched Harry, heard stories about him, admired and gossiped about him from afar. He was the one, the celebrity, untouchable. But she suddenly saw Harry Potter in a whole new light. Instead of an icon, a champion, a star athlete and all-around hero, she saw a boy whose life had perhaps taken him to places that he would have been just as happy never to have seen. A boy saddled with the weight of all that he had become, whether by his choice or not.

A/N: Thanks so much for all of your encouraging reviews! I want so badly to answer all of your questions, but I have to resist the temptation and let you discover the story for yourselves. I know some things are taking drastic turns now that the gang is all back at school, but just trust me. We have a long way to go!