Every Rose Has Its Thorns

"Bloody hell," Hermione muttered under her breath as she buried her face in her hands.

She had pushed one of the Gryffindor common room's scarlet ottomans near the blazing fire, where she spread out her nightload of homework. Books were carelessly stacked all around her, and she was currently gripping her nearly-finished Potions essay, titled "The History of Flight Potions," tightly in her hand. All her work for that night was really beginning to wear on her nerves. She had already completed two complicated Arithmancy charts, a detailed summary of Chapter 4 in her Care of Magical Creatures book, a four-foot-long essay for Charms ("The Differences Between a Laying Spell and a Lying Spell"), and an Ancient Runes table. Her other tasks included performing all of her daily duties as a Prefect, and acting as tutor for the younger years.

"I need a walk," she decided to herself as she carefully laid her Potions homework down on the ottoman and dropped her quill on top.

Standing up and stretching out the cramp in her leg, she looked around the common room with a sigh. It had completely emptied except for her a half hour ago, when the Creevy brothers decided that two singed eyebrows and a burnt ear apiece were enough for one night, and put away their set of Exploding Snap cards, opting instead for bed.

Harry and Ron had long since retired to their dormitory after their rigorous Quidditch training practice that evening. It was their fifth year at Hogwarts, and Harry had stepped up to the plate as Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain when Oliver Wood left Hogwarts after Harry, Ron, and Hermione's third year. Ron took Oliver's place as Keeper, and Gryffindor once again had a stellar Quidditch team. Hermione had watched several of their practices, which Harry seemed to be calling more and more often now that Quidditch season was nearing.

Hermione walked stealthily up to the boys' fifth-year dormitories. "Alohamora," she whispered, pointing her wand to the large iron lock stationed to the right of the heavy wooden door, below the rustic handle. When the lock opened with a satisfying click, she tip-toed inside and up to Harry's trunk. Careful to be as quiet as possible, she deftly opened Harry's trunk and rummaged around until she came upon what she was searching for. She pulled out his invisibility cloak, closed the trunk, and was about to walk back out the door when she heard a familiar voice call her name.

"Hermione? What are you doing? It's late," the voice whispered, stating the obvious.

"Go back to sleep, Harry, I just needed to borrow your invisibility cloak. I need a walk to refresh my mind," she whispered back over her shoulder as she reached the doorknob and turned it to exit.

"Wait, I'll come with you," Harry said, and Hermione heard the mattress springs squeak as he stood up from the bed.

"Harry, it's really late, past midnight. You have Quidditch practice tomorrow night, not to mention the Transfiguration and Potions tests, and the match against Ravenclaw in a week. You need all the sleep you can muster."

"Look, Herm, I'm awake now. So are you going to let me join you, or do I have to put you under the Imperius Curse?" Harry joked from behind the hangings of his bed, and Hermione could hear his hands rustling around on his bedside table - more than likely searching for his glasses.

"All right, I'm waiting," said Hermione, a smile playing at her lips. She smoothed out her pleated skirt where it had become wrinkled from sitting. She had tossed her robes casually on her bed after dinner, but had yet to change out of the Muggle clothes she always wore underneath.

Harry emerged moments later, pulling back the scarlet curtains of his four-poster bed. His hair was an absolute mess (more so than usual, which is saying something), and his pajama shirt was completely unbuttoned. He grabbed a robe, threw it over his shoulder, slid his feet into some shoes, and casually began buttoning up his shirt as he approached Hermione, but not before she caught a glimpse of his chiseled abdomen. Years of Quidditch were finally paying off for him, for he was no longer the gangly, scrawny boy he had arrived as his first year at Hogwarts. His physique was developing quite nicely, and he was at least half a foot taller than the 5'5" Hermione.

"Shall we?" Harry said formally, offering his arm to her. She rolled her eyes before accepting, and the two walked out the door and back down the stairs to the common room.

"You really ought to talk to Professor Dumbledore about getting those lock charms upgraded, Harry. If I can break in with a simple Alohamora charm, then ...," but she was cut off by a hand clamping tightly over her mouth.

"Herm, shut it. Let's just enjoy the midnight stroll, okay?"

He looked down at her, his vivid green eyes twinkling with laughter.

Hermione shot him a mischievous look and then proceeded to lick the offending hand that covered her mouth, which caused him to immediately remove it and wipe it on his pajama pants.

"That'll teach you never to do that again," she said, grinning widely, as he put on his scarlet robe and tied the sash in a loose knot.

Harry returned the smile before covering both himself and Hermione in the invisibility cloak as they walked out the door that lead into, and out of, the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady was snoozing loudly in her portrait, and didn't even notice that the door she kept hidden was suddenly opened and closed by a mysterious nobody.

"So what're you doing up this late, anyway?" Harry queried as he and Hermione followed the familiar path out to the grounds.

"Finishing Snape's essay. I only have a foot more to go, but the bloody thing was really starting to frazzle my brain," she replied, breathing in deeply. She caught the scent of Harry, and relished in it, as she often did. His smell was always very comforting to her - it just felt ... right. He smelled of the sun and grass and chocolate and, right now, sleep.

That smell had been what comforted her more than anything the previous summer, when she received news that Viktor Krum had drowned in a freak boating accident at his home in Romania, just days after she left from her visit with him.

She had been staying at the Burrow with the Weasleys when she received the letter by owl post. She was standing by the battered couch when she caught the parchment envelope that fell from the talons of a particularly large owl, and after she read the letter she collapsed onto the couch because her legs no longer supported her. After seeing her strange actions and reading the sadness on her face, Harry had walked over, wrangled (with some difficulty) the letter from her hand, read it quickly, and then gathered her up into his arms. She buried her face in his neck, inhaling deeply as she wept uncontrollably. They stayed in that position for a little under an hour, never saying a word, until she pulled away, gave Harry a weak smile, and walked up the nearby staircase to the room she was sharing with Ron's younger sister, Ginny.

Hermione found the haze in her head clear up a bit as his smell enveloped her once again. She and Harry continued walking until they found their favorite spot - a clearing near the lake that was hidden by tall, voluminous rose bushes. It was the perfect spot to look at the stars, and the multi-colored roses gave off the most wonderful scent year-round.

"Tell me again about the bushes, Hermione," Harry pleaded in an attempt to get her to tell him what else was bothering her.

Hermione, never one to turn down the chance to show off her fluency in Hogwarts folklore, began speaking without hesitation. "They were supposedly planted here many years ago as punishment for a sixth-year Slytherin student who had said something cruel to another student. Professor Sprout had recently planted these bushes but was having trouble tending them alone, and that student was given the job of re-enchanting each rose every month. Sprout still jokingly threatens to take away house points from Slytherin should one of her beloved roses die or wilt. But you know all that Harry. You are, after all, the one who found this spot to begin with. Following Sprout like you did when he was doing his rounds, you're lucky you weren't caught."

"Very lucky. So what else is on your mind?" Harry asked Hermione as they plopped down on the lush green grass with a thud.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, lying on her stomach, face propped up in her hands, looking at the stars.

"Hermione, we've been friends now for four years. I think I can tell when something is bothering you," Harry replied as he moved into a cross-legged position and leaned back on his elbows.

"Just random thoughts, really. Nothing important."

"If it's important to you it's important to me. Try me."

"Alright, but you asked for it." Hermione took a deep breathe before she began. "Have you ever thought about the human population, Harry? I mean, not just today's population, but the human population that encompasses every person who ever breathed a single breath in this world?" Hermione asked, her eyes glazing over with intense concentration.

"I'm not quite sure if I follow, 'Mione," Harry said, looking at her.

"It's just ... I've been thinking about it a lot lately ... it's been bothering me, really ... even though every culture wants to think it's so much different than all the others, they really aren't. Every single person came into this world the same way ... every single one. Do you know how many that is? Billions and billions ...," she paused, and drew in a breath," ... but no one ever wants to be the same. Everyone wants to be unique, which is ironic when you think about it, because if everyone wants to be unique, then no one truly is. That just isn't that way the world works, Harry. I just wish people could see things the way I see it ... we're all the same, in a way, no matter what we think. And that's good, because everyone needs someone to relate to. If only ..." she trailed off wistfully, the glazed look leaving her eyes.

"Hermione, let me show you something," Harry said as he stood and held out both hands to her. She accepted them, he pulled her up, and he began leading her to a particularly secluded area of the rose bushes.

"Harry, where are we going? If someone finds us here ...," Hermione began before Harry put a finger to his lips - a gesture that told her to be quiet. She obeyed, and they stood silently for several minutes until they heard a faint rustling near the other end of the rose bushes. Hermione held her breath before peeking through a fairly thin section of bush, and almost gasped when she saw who was standing a few yards away from her.

Snape.

Still, Harry and Hermione watched in silence as Professor Snape carefully surveyed each rose, occasionally tapping one gently with his wand. Each rose he tapped gained a new luster and dewy sheen, making them more beautiful than before. For a half-hour straight Snape did this, working quickly and methodically. When he was finished, he gave the rosebushes a satisfied glare before sticking his wand deep within the folds of his cloak and stalking off back towards the castle.

"Harry ...?" Hermione began, a look of awe upon her face.

"Snape was the student Sprout punished all those years ago. He caught me stargazing here one night, and demanded what I was doing ... you know how Snape is. Well, when I was finished explaining, I asked him what he was doing here, and he said 'Completing an assignment, Potter. Now get back to Gryffindor Tower before I take away as many House Points as there are strands of hair on your head'." Hermione giggled at Harry's perfect imitation of Snape's oily voice. "Of course, Snape didn't think I knew what the true purpose of the rose bushes was. I've caught him here a few times since. None of the flowers have ever died, but a few, on occasion, will lose the magical glow they seem to have, so Snape comes here once a week and gives those that need it a boost, so to speak," Harry concluded.

"Are you saying Snape still tends to these roses? Even though he doesn't have to?" Hermione asked, not able to believe that someone as vile as Snape would want to tend to any living thing other than himself.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Every rose has it thorns, some just have more than others. And that doesn't make the rose any less beautiful."

With that said, he plucked the loveliest red rose off its bush and twirled it between his fingers.

"Think about it," he said as he kissed her lightly on her forehead, a common act, and placed the rose in her open hand without bothering to strip off the numerous thorns. He then turned away from her and walked back towards the castle, leaving Hermione with the invisibility cloak, the stars, and his words.

Hermione sat by herself, gazing at the expanse of the universe that lay before and above her, for another quarter hour after Harry left. She then headed back towards Hogwarts Castle herself, ready to finish her Potions essay, her head filled with ideas for that last foot of parchment, her hands filled with the invisibility cloak and precious rose, and her heart filled with something else completely ...