Never All Together

Chapter 4: Angel Songs and Wild Imaginings

Though I'm far away
I'll whisper your name into the sky
And I will wake up happy.
I wonder why I feel so high
Though I am not above the sorrow
Heavy-hearted
Till you call my name
And it sounds like church bells.

--- Sophie B. Hawkins (As I Lay Me Down) ---

"Where is she?" Harry asked Ron as the two boys sat down for lunch at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

Ron gave his best friend a confused look. "Who, Hermione? I don't know. She's your girlfriend, remember?"

Harry frowned. He had barely spent time alone with Hermione over the past few weeks, as she was either at the library or had turned in early in her dormitory. In either case, her nose was always stuck in a book. "We don't even have anything due for the next few days. I can't see what she would be working on so hard."

"That's Hermione for you," Ron crowed, clapping Harry on the back. "She's probably making the most of the Hogwarts library before we leave school." He helped himself to the stuffed squid on the table.

The frown on Harry's face did not ease up. "I think there's something she's not telling me," he remarked, slowly drawing out each word. "I even think she's avoiding not just me, but all sorts of company. I wonder what happened."

"Yes well, she's entitled to some time on her own," Ron interjected, taking a bite out of the chicken he was holding in one hand. "Like that night two weeks ago."

Harry cast a surprised look at Ron. "She went out on her own a couple of weeks ago?"

"After dinner," Ron affirmed. "I asked her what she was up to, but she told me it was none of my business."

Harry already had his eyebrows raised, waiting for Ron to continue.

"She also said--" Ron hesitated. "She said you already knew where she was going," he blurted out in a rush.

"She didn't do Head Girl rounds?"

Ron shook his head.

Harry's green eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was so unlike Hermione to miss out on her duties. Unwittingly, his mind conjured up an image of Hermione and James -- his father -- standing close together, like they did during that dinner. Was it possible that she went to the Ministry? Harry pushed his plate away, suddenly feeling sick with mingled jealousy and disgust.

Ron gagged on his pumpkin juice. "Blimey, it's Dad's boss! The Minister of Magic!"

Harry jerked his head up and looked in the direction Ron was goggling at. True enough, his father was striding down one of the aisles toward the High Table, where the professors sat. "It's my dad, Ron," he said patiently. What's so exciting about that? he wanted to ask.

The redhead wasn't listening. Harry looked around him and saw that boys and girls alike were staring at his father, their features alight with unmistakable admiration.

"Wow," Dean Thomas breathed nearby. "How cool is that, having a champion Seeker as a Minister?"

Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, looked at Dean with distaste. "That's not even his greatest achievement, you know," she said. "One of the top Aurors during his time, he was the one who finished Voldemort off."

Dean looked at her strangely. "Who cares about Voldemort? And what's an Auror, anyway?"

"Dark wizard catcher," Ron choked out, still watching James Potter greet each of the professors already seated at the table.

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were pinching each other's arms. "He is hot," Lavender gushed unabashedly, eyeing the Minister through hooded eyes. "How old is he again?" Parvati asked in a very audible whisper.

The hushed murmurs continued until James Potter had sat down in what was usually Professor Remus Lupin's chair and died down only after it became apparent that the Minister had simply come to have lunch with the Hogwarts headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Ron finally looked at Harry.

"That's your dad, Harry."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks," Harry replied shortly.

"What is he doing here?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, noticing how his father's eyes were actively searching the students taking their lunch. He kept his head lowered to avoid meeting them, but he was willing to bet his next Quidditch match that it wasn't him he was looking for anyway. "Beats me," he lied, finally taking a savage bite of lettuce.

* * * * * * *

I kissed him. James Potter.

No, it was actually he who kissed me first. And then I kissed him back. With abandon.

We kissed, and it was earth-shattering. It was unlike any other kiss I could remember, maybe because it was forbidden, or because it wasn't a simple meeting of the mouths. It was much, much more. It awakened something inside me that I'd somehow forgotten. It was a kiss as thrilling as fire must've been to ancient man, for it conveyed that much heat, that much promise.

Hermione did not want to continue writing about what happened next, so she put down her quill and closed her eyes. For the past two weeks she had done nothing but relive the kiss and the way it made her feel. She remembered running her palms up his hard chest and wrapping them around the base of his neck, his arms tightly encircling her waist, moulding her to him. It was a dream realised, passion personified.

She sighed, opening her eyes and glancing around the nearly deserted library. Her eyes fell on the clock at the far wall just as it chimed one o'clock. She had missed lunch for the third time that week, but recently she just wasn't very hungry. It was as though thoughts of their moment together were enough to sustain her. She did not need anything else.

Her eyes widened at another realisation about the time. As though jolted by electricity -- a changing magnetic field, she managed a smile at the words -- she hastily packed her things up and dashed through the door. She ran through the hallways to her next lesson. I can't believe I lost track of the time, just daydreaming.

A few minutes later, she was standing outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, trying to catch up with her breathing. She pushed the back door of the room open. "I'm sorry I'm late, Professor Lu--pin," she said, the last syllable dying on her lips as she locked eyes not with Remus Lupin's kind blue ones, but with startling hazel eyes she had come to know so well.

The world around her stopped revolving as she stared at the man who had been occupying her fantasies of late, and as he stared at her with the same intensity he exhibited when he had held her. It seemed to go on forever, both of them oblivious to the darting glances the students threw from one to the other.

Finally, the left corner of his mouth curled upward in a smile. His eyes glittered amusedly -- and dangerously, it seemed to Hermione. "You're late, Miss Granger," he greeted. "However, seeing as I'm only filling in for Professor Lupin, I refuse to take any points from Gryffindor." His teeth flashed in a mischievous smile as he raked his hand carelessly through his hair. "Also, seeing as I once belonged to Gryffindor."

Dean and Seamus Finnigan stood up and clapped their hands, prompting the others to do the same. James Potter laughed and then added, "Like protects like, of course. I don't doubt that greasehead--" Snorts and laughter erupted in the room. "Professor Snape, I mean, I doubt he avoids giving you a hard enough time."

Neville Longbottom was nodding vigorously. The clapping continued for a few more seconds, and then everybody who had stood up reclaimed their seats. James glanced at the young faces of his students in the room and was warmed by the respect mirrored in their eyes as they looked back at him. He turned his attention to Hermione once more, who had remained standing near the door. "You may take your seat now, Miss Granger."

Hermione made her way towards her seat beside Neville, behind the desk that Ron and Harry shared. She was grateful for the support the chair gave her wobbling knees. Her hands were shaking as she took out her Defence Against the Dark Arts book, quill, bottle of ink, and a spare piece of parchment from her schoolbag and laid it out on her desk. When she looked up, she saw James looking at her. She quickly hung her head, afraid her eyes would show some feelings.

"Only wands should be out, Miss Granger," James said with a soft smile. He turned to face the rest of the class as Hermione forced her things noisily back into her bag.

Harry swivelled in his chair to face Hermione. "Where have you been?" he hissed.

"Library," Hermione shot back defiantly, ignoring the warning glance James threw in their direction.

"Now, this course is called Defence Against the Dark Arts," James spoke seriously when he had everybody's attention. "For most of your years in Hogwarts, you have been taught to combat the Dark Arts using defensive, protective curses. The intention of harming your opponent has not been hammered that deeply into your heads yet. Am I right?" Nods answered his question.

James clenched his jaw. Should I tell them? the thought sounded off in his mind. No, better let Albus tell them, when the time is right, another voice piped in. James decided to obey the second voice. "Right," he continued, flexing his muscles as he played with his wand. "However, it has been said that the best defence is a strong offence. After all, you cannot hide and dodge from your opponent forever. You have to turn the tables on him, make him dodge you instead. But chances are, he will still attack you. The one who can best cast the Shield Charm is not likely the one to win, so why expend your energy in casting that charm when you can finish him off?"

The Minister of Magic glanced around the room, noting how the students hung on his every word. "That being said, I will try to teach you simple to moderate hexes. We will start with the Reductor Curse." He paused. "Does anybody here know what it can do?"

Nobody said a word. Having lived in peace for their whole lives, after the war against Voldemort was won, most of them did not bother with curses that could seriously harm, or even kill. They had heard of the Unforgivable Curses, certainly, but their usage was merely a horrible tale from the past.

"Nobody knows what it is?"

This time it was Ron who turned back to look at Hermione in surprise. "You don't know what it is?"

Hermione blinked, her eyes snapping into focus. She had been thinking how teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, even for a day, brought out the Auror long asleep in James Potter. "Of course I do," Hermione replied, with a nasty look at Ron.

James settled his eyes once more on her, his expression expectant. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"It blows your opponent into smithereens," Hermione answered matter-of-factly, ignoring the squeak of fright beside her. "You point it at the person or object you're targeting, and with a flick of your wand, you say Reducto."

James smiled appreciatively. "Five points to Gryffindor," he said. He aimed his wand at the professor's table so quickly that everybody missed it. Without a single word from James, the table exploded into a thousand pieces. Students screamed and used their arms to avoid being hit by the flying debris. When the dust had settled, and everybody's arms were back on their desks, they all looked at the Minister with astonishment.

"That was fast," Seamus croaked. "I didn't even see you aim." James nodded at him.

"And you didn't even say anything! You can do magic without saying the incantations out loud!" Ron exclaimed. James nodded again, a small smile on his face.

"Professor Lupin has told me some of you have become adept at nonverbal spells," he said, causing a look of concern to appear on the students' faces. "But you don't have to worry. Not yet, anyway." He waved his wand carelessly in the air, and the dust and the many pieces scattered all came together once more to reform the table so seamlessly, it was as though it had never been broken.

"Each of you will now have a turn with the table. I have chosen a large object as a target because it will be easier to hit. Also, such inanimate objects are easier to repair, are they not?" James face broke into a grin once more, and Hermione could not help but smile. "I don't fancy trying to piece your intestines together, you know." He glanced at his son. "Why don't you go first, Harry?"

Harry stood up from his chair and also flicked his wand too fast to be seen by his classmates. "Reducto!" he shouted as people around him crouched for cover. Bits of wood flew everywhere. His wand pointing at the same spot, he yelled, "Reparo!" and restored the table to its original state.

"Very good aim from afar, Harry," James said, beaming at him. He nodded encouragingly at the redhead beside his son. "Ron?"

Because Ron's hand was shaking so horribly, he hit the chair instead of the table. James grinned at Ron's horrified expression afterwards. "Good thing I wasn't sitting there, huh? It's okay, Ron. You just have to get the hang of it to know where to point your wand. And you have to be confident enough to know what you're aiming at." He waved his wand once more to repair the chair. His smile faded into a searching look as he watched Hermione get up from her chair. "Hermi--"

The table was blasted into pieces before he could even finish saying her name. James glanced from where the table used to be standing to her, the girl who was making his heart swell with admiration. Hermione was living up to everything that had been said about her. "That's very good," James observed, looking straight into her almond-shaped, coffee-coloured eyes. "You had me at unawares, like you should your enemy."

Or like you had me. Hermione smiled so that she glowed. She saw undisguised wonder in his eyes as he looked at her and felt a pleasant tingle from her toes up. I'm sorry, Professor Lupin, but thank heavens it was the full moon last night.

* * * * * * *

"I was worried you've been living on paper for the past few days," Ron sniggered as he saw Hermione join him and Harry later that evening for dinner.

Hermione glanced at Ron -- and to both boys' surprise, she simply laughed. "I was busy working on something so that I had to sneak food into the library instead," she answered, her smile sunny.

Harry's mood lightened considerably at her smile, at the lighthearted air Hermione now seemed to carry about her. He sneaked an arm around his girlfriend's waist and pulled her closer to him. "Does this mean I can finally have time alone with you?" he whispered in her ear.

She had shuddered slightly at Harry's touch and at his voice in her ear, but hopefully he hadn't noticed. She turned to face him, trying to put some distance between her and Harry. Hermione knew she'd rather go straight to her dormitory after dinner and think about... him, but she also knew she couldn't deny Harry his request, being his... Hermione repressed another shudder at the thought. Girlfriend. How did this become so complicated?

"We'll see," she answered mysteriously, and with a smile to match. She shifted her seat away from him and showed more interest than she would usually have to the food on the table. After scooping some on her plate, she threw a careless glance at the High Table -- and upset her glass of juice.

Reflexively, Harry reached out and straightened the glass halfway before it spilled its contents. He laid a hand on Hermione's arm. "Something wrong?"

Oh, yes. Hermione had just spotted a beautiful redhead beside the bespectacled, black-haired man she had been seeking out. There was no doubt who she was.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice washed over her.

Hermione bent her head to hide the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. Where did the tears come from? Her heart felt as though it were being squeezed so tightly that she could hardly breathe. In the midst of her giddiness over her earlier encounter with James Potter, she had forgotten the real bleakness of the situation she was in.

She reached for her cup of juice and gulped it down before answering. "An insect bit me. That's all." She lifted her head once more to look at the High Table, just in time to see Lily Potter -- Hermione swallowed a bitter lump in her throat as the last name she shared with him echoed in her mind -- lean over to her husband, who was sitting beside her. She whispered something in James's ear that made him laugh. Hermione could not tear her eyes away as she enviously watched Lily run her own hand through his hair, and as he pulled her swiftly to him for a brief kiss.

An icy knife sliced through her. Enough. Foolish though it was, she had obviously misinterpreted the affection, or whatever it was, she thought James felt for her. Did I seriously expect him to have anything with me? I mean absolutely nothing to him. Her mouth set in a grim line, she pushed her plate away and walked briskly out of the Great Hall, her robes billowing behind her.

Harry and Ron shared a concerned look, but before Ron could say anything, Harry jumped up and ran after Hermione. He leapt from one staircase to the next and ran along corridor after corridor until he saw Hermione sitting on the floor, back against the wall. Harry squinted and saw that the left turn at the end of the hallway led to the stone gargoyle that was the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

He turned his eyes to Hermione, who had a defeated expression on her face that he could not comprehend. She glanced up at him as she would an intruder.

"You didn't have to follow me." Her voice was dull, lifeless. She stood up and brushed dust off her hands and robes. "I'm okay now. I just needed time to think."

Harry stepped closer towards her. "About what?" Ignoring her frown, he said, "Don't tell me it's nothing. I can tell when you're lying."

"I didn't say it was nothing," she replied in that cold voice. "I was going to say that it's nothing important -- for you, anyway."

"It's not important to me? How could anything about you be nothing to me?" Harry's face contorted into hurt and disbelief. "How did this happen? Why are you suddenly pushing me out of your life? You used to share everything with me."

Hermione shook her head tiredly. "I never did, Harry. You just assumed that. And I didn't say I want you out of my life. I just need some ... space."

"Does this mean we're breaking up?" His jaw clenched in an effort to neutralise the pain the conversation was causing.

She closed her eyes and seemed to deflate right before him. Harry could not help himself; he reached out and wrapped her in his arms. Hermione clung to him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. She had missed him, the safety she felt with him.

Harry gently caressed her back. "It's okay, Hermione. We're going to sort things out. We're going to be okay."

Hermione nodded mutely. How could she have ever thought of being with James Potter, who was not only married, but was her devoted boyfriend's father and was so much older than she? It was insanity. She needed to get her mind back on track -- fast. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I've been neglecting you lately. I -- I don't deserve you." Her voice broke.

Harry shushed her some more. "It was also my fault for not asking you sooner," he murmured. He pulled her a few inches away from him and tilted her chin up so he could look straight into her eyes. His thumb fanned over her cheek. "I love you so much, Hermione Granger. I don't ever want to lose you."

Her lips trembled. "I love you too, Harry." She shivered -- whether out of fear or anticipation, she wasn't sure -- when he pulled her closer to him and kissed her gently, but fully, on the lips. Her eyes stayed open as Harry increased the pressure of his kiss. It was a warm, pleasant feeling, having someone care for her as much as he did. But strangely, his kiss did nothing to her. It did not make her wrap her arms around him and press herself even closer. It did not set off fireworks in her mind. When Harry pulled away for breath, she did not feel the urge to kiss him again and again, like she did James in her fantasies.

The problem is with me, Hermione thought as Harry backed her against the wall and leaned forward for another kiss. This time, she was ready. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck as Harry tightened his hold on her and intensified the kiss. When she conditioned herself this way, she could almost share his passion. But she dared not open her mouth to speak as Harry's lips left hers and trailed down the arc of her throat. She was afraid she'd whisper the wrong name, as the dim lighting turned his green eyes to a very convincing shade of hazel.

Footsteps and swishing robes echoed from the corridor Harry had come from, but each one of them was too engrossed with their own thoughts to notice the sounds. Then all fell silent, but the atmosphere changed with the undeniable presence of three more people.

Harry pulled himself abruptly away from Hermione and turned to look towards his right. He went red. Hermione followed his gaze to see the Headmaster, with James and Lily, striking a couple as ever, behind him. She rearranged her face to an expressionless feature as she looked evenly at them.

"Pro -- Professor," Harry began, intending to apologise, but Dumbledore cut him off with a knowing smile.

"Just be careful next time, Harry."

"Erm -- right." He glanced at his mum, who was smirking at him, the eyes he had inherited glimmering with mischief. His dad, on the other hand, was wearing that small smile he used when dealing with a variety of emotions all at once. Harry turned back to Hermione and took her hand in his. "We'll just return to our common room then."

Hermione tossed James a defiant look just as she passed him. He averted his gaze to prevent himself from cursing out loud and clenched one fist. There was no way around it; he didn't like seeing his son and Hermione together, and it wasn't due to some noble reason. He wondered if his wife's presence affected Hermione as much and if she had turned to Harry to seek comfort. But why should I care? He rumpled his hair in frustration and exhaled noisily.

"Hermione," he said sharply. Damn. He had never intended to let that slip.

She slowly turned back, her eyes protuberant with surprise, despair, tenderness, and a hint of hope. "James?" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Shock registered on Harry and Lily's faces at her intimate use of his first name. It also stirred the beginnings of insecurity inside their hearts.

James did not notice them, as they seemed to disappear so that he and Hermione were alone together. He felt like his heart would burst from its rapid beating. He smiled faintly to calm his racing heart.

"We need to talk."