It's The Great Pumpkin, Harry Potter!

It's the Great Pumpkin, Harry Potter (02)

Chapter Two: The Present and The Past ...

Hogwarts Castle Corridors
The Day Before
6:00 in the evening (Halloween)

Ginny Weasley silently led the first-year Gryffindors along the myriad corridors and staircases of Hogwarts Castle, heading for the Great Hall and the traditional Halloween feast. She was walking on auto-pilot, trusting to the knowledge burned into her from four years of wandering the corridors to bring them safely - and speedily - to their destination.

Ordinarily, the job of escorting the first years would have fallen to the House Prefects - in this case, to Gryffindor Prefects Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Harry, however, was still on the Quidditch pitch, practicing - their first game (as usual, against Slytherin) was coming up in a few weeks. Hermione, on the other hand, was working on a special project with Professor Flitwick, the Charms professor, and had been running late. She was still in the library doing research, and had practically begged Ginny to fetch the first-years from their dorms and make sure that they all arrived at the Great Hall in time for the feast.

Ginny smiled, sadly. She knew that Hermione had another reason for asking her to escort the first years to the feast, a reason that her friend thought she could hide from the world ...

"Is there anything wrong, Hermione?" she asked gently, as they sat together in the library.

She watched as Hermione gave a guilty start, as if she'd been poked in the side with a hot needle, but she knew that she would not receive an answer as a determined look dropped like a mask over the other's face.

She sighed. Ginny had become closer to Hermione over the years, although admittedly, they had never been as close as Harry was to Hermione. Still, there were some things that girls cannot hide from each other - and Ginny knew what Hermione's problem was.

Hermione had fallen in love with her best friend.

Ginny could pinpoint the exact moment she realized that Hermione was in love: at the conclusion of the Second Task of the Tri-Wizard tournament. She had been standing beside Percy, getting more and more agitated, when the hour had passed for the champions to return - and Harry had not yet shown up with Ron.

She had been beside herself with worry, torn with the fear of losing her brother - or losing both Harry and her brother. She'd watched as Viktor Krum dragged a still-sleeping Hermione up the bank, transfiguring himself back into his normal shape, and the two of them being wrapped tightly in blankets and forcibly fed Pepper-Up potion by Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse.

She'd felt a stab of jealousy at the sight - Viktor Krum, star Seeker of the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team, Durmstrang Champion, had thought highly enough of Hermione to think of her as the "one he will miss the most" ... while Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the person she'd had a crush on since she was little, and (most importantly) the person who saved her life in her first year at Hogwarts, thought that her brother was the one he missed the most.

It was only her worry for Ron (and yes, she admitted to herself, for Harry) that kept her rooted to her spot beside Percy. While she kept an anxious lookout on the lake, she kept stealing envious glances at Hermione and Krum - and a shock of surprise ran through her when she saw Hermione keeping the same anxious lookout, and totally ignoring every attempt by Krum to talk to her.

Hermione looked as if she was ready to throw off her blankets and head back for the lake herself, if it were not for the heavy hand that Madame Pomfrey had kept on her the whole time. Hermione's fear and concern mirrored her own - and Ginny felt a warm glow in her heart at Hermione's obvious concern for the welfare of her brother, in spite of the blazing row they'd had the night of the Yule Ball.

She felt like someone poured a bucket of ice-cold water over her when the first words that Hermione said when Harry emerged from the lake with Ron and the French champion's little sister was, "Harry, well done! You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

She'd watched in utter amazement as Krum tried desperately to draw Hermione's attention back to himself, and all that Hermione would say was, "You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry ... Did it take you ages to find us?"

Harry Potter, the prat, had answered Hermione automatically - apparently, he did not even notice that Hermione was trying to cover up the fear, panic, and apprehension she had gone through as she waited for Harry to emerge from the lake.

On the other hand, it seemed that Harry did not share the same sentiment He continued treating Hermione the same way he'd been treating her through the whole five years of their friendship - as his best friend, along with her brother.

"Boys!" Ginny thought with a sigh. They can be total prats, to say nothing of dense ... thick ... dim ... stupid ... Harry ignoring, and not even acknowledging, all that Hermione had done for him - and totally missing the fact that his best "friend" was in love with him. And Ron, totally oblivious of the fact that there was no way that he and Hermione will ever get together ... they were just two totally different people. Their relationship was a major personality clash - the only thing keeping them together was Harry Potter.

Ginny lurched to a sudden stop as the thought hit her, totally unmindful that the whole group had stopped along with her, puzzled at her action. Was that the real problem, she wondered? Harry and Hermione together formed a cohesive whole - with no place for a Ron in their lives; Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, would still have a place for Harry in their lives.

Except that Hermione was already in love with Harry.

Which meant that there would be no place for her brother in their lives.

Her boiling thoughts were interrupted, however, by a shy voice breaking into her consciousness, "Ummm ... Ginny? Is there something wrong?" Startled, she looked at Ca (who had asked everyone to call her that, to avoid confusion with another Caroline in second year as well as with the Fat Lady) who was looking at her with concern.

Before she could respond, Cindy the Whirlwind stepped in, "Is this the shortest way to the Great Hall?"

Surprised, Ginny looked around and realized that they were in a vaguely unfamiliar part of the castle. She'd been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she must have missed a turn, or the corridors had shifted, or the stairways had moved ... with a sigh of exasperation, she led the group in another direction which, she hoped, would lead back to the Great Hall.

There was something vaguely disquieting about this corridor, Ginny thought. Luckily, Sir Nicholas, Gryffindor Tower's resident ghost, popped out of a wall, and asked, in a reproving tone of voice, "Lost, are we, Virginia Weasley?"

Before Ginny could reply, she heard Ca, who had wandered off a bit, asking, "What's this?" as she pointed to a wall.

The others looked to where she was pointing, seeing nothing but a wall with faded writing on it. As they approached, they could just barely make out the words "chamber," "opened," and "beware." The younger Gryffindors looked at it curiously, unsure of what the words meant - when Sir Nicholas called out in a shaken voice, "Children! Children, come on ... you don't want to miss the Halloween feast, do you?"

As the group started walking away, Sir Nicholas hovered beside a tense Ginny, who was trying to control herself as she fled that particular corridor. The ghost touched her arm, which sent a shiver down her spine, and she looked up at Sir Nicholas. She gave him a small nod, smiled - and walked to the front of the group to lead them to the Hall.

Four years before, the words were newly painted in foot-high letters:

"THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE."

* * * * *

First Floor Girl's Bathroom
Hogwarts' Castle
6:15 that evening (Halloween)

Hermione Granger was running down the hallways towards the Great Hall, reprimanding herself for running late. She'd asked Ginny to escort the Gryffindor first-years, so she could concentrate on her project for Professor Flitwick - something she had to give up in defeat an hour before, since her mind was not on her work.

She sighed in irritation. She'd been delighted at being named a Prefect (despite all the teasing she got from Ron) but she hadn't counted on her duties eating into the quality time she spent with her best friend.

That thought had been enough to chase away any thoughts of school work, special projects, prefect duties and even You-Know-Who out of her mind for the past hour.

She'd spent most of that hour with a singular litany in her mind: "Why should I be thinking that way?" she asked herself. "The three of us are friends ... friends ... friends!"

Which had always been accompanied by a peculiar response: "Ron Weasley is a friend ... Harry Potter is ... is ..." She kept refusing to fill in the final blank, simply because she wasn't sure what the answer was.

Or rather, she was not sure what Harry's answer was.

Best friends, of course.

But that was what Harry said.

She was not sure of what Harry thought.

She sighed to herself. If there was one thing about Harry that she knew, it was the fact that what he said was often far different from what he actually thought. Certainly it was the result of his early life with the Dursleys, when he wasn't allowed to have an original thought and where, to make life easier for him (though it did not succeed as well as it should have), he'd consciously separated what he said to them from what he thought about them.

She'd paused for a few minutes, to let her rage at that incomparable family boil off ... if it hadn't been for the restrictions that Professor Dumbledore had placed on Harry during the summers, she'd have brought him home herself, rather than allowing him to spend even one day with the Dursleys.

She finally brought her mind back to the question confronting her: what was Harry Potter to her? And, by extension, how did this affect her relationship with Ronald Weasley, the third half of their Trio, the third member of the Dream Team?

And she kept coming back to the litany and its counterpoint: Ron was her friend ... Harry was her ... her ...

'All right!' she thought angrily. 'Let's approach this from another direction. If there was no Harry Potter in our lives right now ... I'd probably be in the library or in the Prefect's bathroom, crying my eyes out, wondering what in hell I'm doing in Gryffindor instead of in Ravenclaw ... which wouldn't be that much of a life, anyway."

She considered that thought, and shuddered. No matter Ravenclaw's reputation as the House of the Learned, they were still people - and the enviousness and pettiness that marked others were just as present among the Ravenclaws, and perhaps, even more. She remembered Padma Patil, Parvati's twin, crying in the library numerous times in their first year as she tried to cope with the vicious infighting among her house-mates as they strove to excel academically.

Maybe that's why Cho Chang is such a good Seeker, she thought. She's found something to excel in, outside of academics - something to build her own identity upon.

She cut that train of thought, and pondered the question of what her life would be without Ron in their lives right now ... I'll probably be in the same boat. Still Harry's friend ... still Harry's faithful Indian companion ... or probably more.

It would still be Harry and herself ... for the first year or so. By which time, we'd probably be driving each other mad ... Harry, experiencing for the first time a life without the Dursleys, would have wanted to enjoy every minute of his life at Hogwarts while she, on the other hand, would have wanted to study every minute she had at Hogwarts.

The problem was, she reflected, that Harry was not confident enough in his first year at Hogwarts to have taken the kind of chances he did ... he'd probably not have gone after Malfoy and Neville's Rememberall during their flying lesson (she remembered with a smile telling him off before he flew off after Malfoy), which meant he'd probably not be the youngest Seeker in a century ... probably not sneaked out for that midnight duel with Malfoy which led them to the third floor and Fluffy ...

Which probably meant that You-Know-Who would have been resurrected in their first year - and there would have been no Harry Potter in her fifth year at Hogwarts. He'd probably be dead by now ... and she would be living a life as close to death as possible, having no Harry Potter in her life.

She pushed those morbid thoughts out of her mind, and refocused on the crux of her internal discussion. If there had been no Harry Potter in her life ... if there had been no Ron Weasley in their lives ...

She'd probably have no life.

She sighed. The truth was ... they'd both needed a Ron Weasley in their lives. He provided the balance that Harry and she needed in their first years at Hogwarts - someone to guide Harry during his first tentative steps in the wizarding world, and someone to pull her away from books, the library, and the rules ...

But things were changing. They'd started changing last year, when that stupid prat had the temerity to doubt Harry's word about the Goblet of Fire ... or perhaps the change had started in third year when he'd assumed that Crookshanks had eaten his stupid rat ... or in second year when she had run into the Great Hall screaming, "You solved it, you solved it!" right into Harry's arms ... or maybe ...

This was getting her no where.

The fact remained - she felt whole and complete with Harry Potter in her life ... she could live without a Ron Weasley in her life ... but times were better when both boys were in her life.

The problem was ... she'd fallen in love with one of them.

So, the question becomes, where does that leave the other?

She snorted. Before she could even ask those questions, she needed an answer from the one she loved. Was the feeling mutual, or were her feelings hers alone?

She wondered again, for the thousandth time, how it had happened ... and she knew that she had no real answer for the how ... or even the why ... or even the when. It always felt like it was there the whole time ... ever since the two boys had rescued her from the troll ...

Arrrgggh! This was aggravating! She was back on the same merry-go-round ... no real solutions, except for that singular resolution: she felt whole and complete with a Harry in her life ... she could live without a Ron in her life ... but her life was definitely more complete with both in her life: Harry beside her, Ron somewhere in the orbit of both their lives.

But not the other way around.

She looked at her watch and was surprised - an hour had passed? And she hadn't gotten any work done? No matter ... Professor Flitwick wasn't expecting anything from her for two weeks, anyway. She'd have time to work this out tomorrow ... if only she can resolve the problem facing her ... she sighed.

She did not have any answers. Those will have to come from Harry and Ron: Harry, in terms of his feelings for her; Ron, with regard to how he will deal with the changed situation.

She'd better hurry.

With that, she packed up her things, and dashed out of the library. On the way, she realized that she needed to freshen up ... but the Prefect's bathroom was too far away ... never mind, there's a girl's bathroom somewhere here ...

While she was washing her face, a feeling of unease suddenly hit her. She stared at her face in the mirror, wondering where that feeling was coming from ... she stared at the sink in front of her, and noticed infinitesimal cracks all over it ... she suddenly walked towards one of the stalls, and saw cracks a few feet above the floor ... and she knew.

She burst out of the bathroom at a run, shocking several students who were passing by, and almost hitting two girls in the face as she swung the door open. She didn't apologize to anyone, almost running away ... ignoring the stares of the students who'd seen her leaving the bathroom.

Five years ago, in that same bathroom, on this same day, was the start of her life and adventures with The Boy Who Lived.

* * * * *

The Fat Lady's Portrait
Gryffindor Tower
6:20 p.m. (Halloween)

Ron Weasley was running late, but he wasn't that bothered about it. For one thing, he thought, he was not a Prefect, although his best friends were ... and he was happy about it - he didn't know how he could keep his life organized between Prefect duties, Quidditch practice (he was now the House Keeper, 'lord, how he hated that term!'), and studies ... with Hermione constantly on his back to study for their O.W.L.s, even though the O.W.L.s were months away ...

All in all, he was happy ... content ... satisfied with his life.

Except for one thing.

There was a subtle undercurrent in his relationship with his best friends ... there was something ... different about it these days ... and he, for the life of him, couldn't put his finger on what that was.

He'd first noticed it in Harry, during the summer he'd spent with Ron at The Burrow. Harry had been ... withdrawn, was the best way to describe him when he re-joined the family ... more quiet ... somehow, more watchful of what was going on about him ...

Serious.

That was the word he needed. The Harry he remembered would have been ecstatic on reaching the Burrow, being able to escape the Dursleys for a few weeks before the start of classes. He'd have been great fun ... playing Quidditch with the brothers in their paddock ... joining them as they de-gnomed the garden ... chatting with his Dad about Muggle ways and appliances ...

The Harry of last summer was serious. He joined them at Quidditch, but it was apparent that his mind was elsewhere ... he'd de-gnomed the garden when invited - but he threw the gnomes with a force that was unnatural for him (he used to be rather gentle with the gnomes, only resorting to brute force when attacked) ... and, the real shocker came when he expressed an interest in Ginny's Arithmancy studies!

Ginny had been happy about it, of course - it meant more time for her to be with Harry, but even that ecstasy had been short-lived. She'd admitted to Ron that Harry was truly interested in her lectures and notes on Arithmancy (she'd had a grand time explaining things to Harry) ... but she felt that his mind was not there all the time.

Which was rather an aggravation to her.

Or was it?

Thinking back, Ginny wasn't irritated with Harry's lack of attention to her ... she'd actually been concerned about it, but more in terms of Harry's well-being, rather than his inattention to her femininity.

Ron, like the rest of the family, had put it down to the trauma of the Tri-Wizard tournament ... Molly Weasley had warned them all, before Harry showed up at The Burrow, not to mention what had happened, unless Harry wanted to talk about it ... he'd assumed that Harry was still carrying around some burden of guilt because of Cedric's death and the resurrection of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ...

But that wasn't all of it.

There was something in the way that Harry kept glancing out the window every time they sat down to breakfast; as if he was waiting for something to come crashing in ... again, everyone had assumed that it was the trauma of Voldemort's return ... but Ron realized something else was happening.

Harry was waiting for Hermione.

He didn't know when he'd first realized it ... afterwards, he kept wondering how he'd missed it.

Was it when he realized that the look on Harry's face every morning was not one of relief at having gone through another night without nightmares - but a look of disappointment that there was no letter from Hermione?

Maybe he was still shaken at Harry's seriousness when he arrived that he'd missed the meaning behind Harry's statement, when he was wondering if Hermione was enjoying her time in Bulgaria with Vicky: "She didn't go to Bulgaria. She's in France with her parents."

Did he misread the look of joy on Harry's face the day Hedwig arrived with a letter from Hermione, telling them that she was arriving at The Burrow the following day? Harry had quickly hidden that look from them ... in fact, it was so fleeting that even Ron wasn't sure if he'd seen it - and had soon forgotten about it.

Or maybe it was because of his excitement when Hermione arrived that he'd missed the different way they'd greeted each other? He'd been literally bouncing the whole morning, waiting for Hermione to arrive and complete their Trio ... Harry, on the other hand, had been quiet and pensive ... which he'd ascribed (as usual) to the trauma of their fourth year.

He'd literally grabbed and swung Hermione around when she'd arrived at The Burrow, happy and exuberant at having the Dream Team complete once again. Harry, however, had hung back ... watching from the sidelines, as it were. When he put her down, they'd simply looked at each other for a long moment ... and then they'd stepped forward at the same time ... and then, they were hugging each other tightly.

He'd been too busy picking up Hermione's luggage (and trying to avoid Crookshanks' claws) that he barely heard what they were murmuring to each other. Even now, he couldn't be sure if he heard correctly: "Welcome home, Hermione," while she was simply saying, "You're all right, Harry ... I was so worried."

They'd broken apart before he could complain about being left with the luggage ... the days which followed were quiet and idyllic, the old team was back in place and functioning ... but even then, there was something different.

Like the almost daily walks the two would take in the evenings or early mornings. He'd assumed at first that they went out to meet with Sirius (who was still a fugitive, even though Arthur and Molly knew the real story by now). He'd confronted Harry about this one time before they went to sleep - Harry merely looked at him and told him that he just wanted to take a walk, and that Hermione was kind enough to join him.

He'd asked what they'd talked about - and Harry said, "Nothing. We just walked."

He joined them the next day, and found that they talked about ... nothing. They were just walking ... he'd tried to be as quiet as they were, but found it difficult. He'd ended up chattering away, and the two alternately laughing or commenting to him, but not really talking to each other.

But they'd known where they were going ... turning left or right at some signal he never caught ... deciding it was time to start walking back without either one mentioning it ... it was annoying. The strange thing was ... he never felt they were hiding anything from him. They were just ... walking.

He never joined their walks again.

The day the school owls arrived with their letters was another such shocking day. Hermione had opened hers, and squealed with delight on seeing the Prefect badge that everyone expected her to receive. He'd started teasing her, as had the twins ... and he started teasing Harry about not teasing her ... only to fall back in shock as Harry showed all of them his Prefect's badge.

Hermione had jumped into Harry's arms and hugged him at that. He'd congratulated Harry, of course, along with a few choice comments about abandoning him ... and, though Harry was laughing, there was ... something ... which continued over the past three months.

They were both acting like prats, especially when he was around.

That stopped him, a few feet from the Fat Lady's portrait. They were acting like total prats ... was it because they felt they were abandoning him?

He knew he could be a stupid, dumb, insensitive git, as his behavior last year had shown anyone, blind or not -- he didn't need Ginny, the Twins or even Hermione to tell him that.

He didn't have to be smart, bright or considerate to know that Harry was in love with Hermione. The summer at the Burrow made it obvious.

As was the fact that Hermione was in love with Harry. He could see how she acted - the one time he joined their walk was enough proof of that. They'd been acting like his Mum and Dad - no need for words to communicate what they wanted to do, the looks they exchanged ... their hug when they saw each other again ...

They were in love with each other.

It was as obvious as the trees that surrounded the Burrow.

So, where did that leave him?

If there was one thing that the past two years made obvious ... it was that he could live a life without Harry or Hermione. He'd drawn away from Hermione in their third year when he thought Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers ... and he'd pulled away from Harry last year when the Goblet of Fire made Harry a Hogwarts Champion.

He was able to live a life without either one ... granted, he felt incomplete, but he knew that if he'd worked at it, he would still be the same Ron Weasley. Maybe he wouldn't have the grades he had now (for which he will always be eternally grateful to Hermione) or he would not be as well known as Harry Potter (being the best friend of The-Boy-Who-Lived was better than being "just another Weasley.")

But he would still be Ronald Weasley. Youngest male member of the Weasley clan. Current Gryffindor Quidditch Keeper. Co-founder of EWWW! ("Every Woman Wants A Weasley!"). An average - or above - average wizard with red hair.

Without Harry Potter ... he would be just another Gryffindor with red hair. Still, all things considered, it was not a bad life. There were other Gryffindors he could hang out with, study with ... have fun with. Granted, there wouldn't have been the kind of adventures that he'd had with Harry ... but it would have been a safer, more boring life...

Without Hermione Granger ... he snickered to himself. He'd probably have a more relaxed life. A lot of people found their constant bickering cute ... only the three of them knew how much it took away from them. The day he found a know-it-all bookworm who didn't make him want to start arguing, he'd up and marry the girl ... unfortunately, that was not Hermione. Thank god for Harry, who had more patience and understanding in his little finger than he ever had ... but then, this is Hermione we're talking about, right?

But what about them? Where would they have been without him? Probably in the library, cleaning out dusty books, or studying Arithmancy and Ancient Runes ... talking with Hagrid about the care and feeding of Blast-Ended Skrewts, Aragog (he shuddered), Hippogriffs, and even Basilisks!

And probably bored out of their skulls ... or Harry would be. Which would lead to arguments ... fights ... battles ... and the thought flashed through his mind: Harry Potter with glasses but with his red hair and freckles, teasing, arguing, fighting with Hermione about transfiguration, potions or the library ...

He shuddered.

Would they be in love with each other, if he were not around to have provided a balance in the early years?

Maybe not ... or they will have found a way to work it out.

Harry will find a way to work it out.

He never would.

But now that they were in love ... was there going to be a place for him in their lives?

His mind was pursuing this line of thought as he approached the portrait and absently gave the password. He walked on - and slammed into the still-closed portrait. He bounced back with a muffled yelp - and realized that the portrait was empty. Before he could start wondering where the Fat Lady had gone, the portrait opened - to reveal Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas stepping out.

Ron didn't even bother to ask where the Fat Lady had gone, but ran up to his room to shower and change, mumbling thanks as he passed the two Gryffindors. He pushed the questions about his friends to the back of his mind ... and wondered, briefly, why the Fat Lady wasn't at her post.

It was while he was in the shower that it suddenly hit him like a fist in the stomach.

Two years before, on Halloween, a still-maddened and impulsive Sirius Black had slashed the Fat Lady's portrait when she refused him entry to the tower. Sirius had been after Peter Pettigrew, renegade Marauder and Animagus that, at the time, was masquerading as his pet rat, Scabbers.

* * * * *

The Great Hall
The Evening Before
6:45 p.m. (Halloween)

Harry Potter was standing in the entrance to the Great Hall, watching the clouds of bats flying around the high-ceilinged room, moving among the giant pumpkins floating in the air, fairy lights or candles within giving an eerie glow to their carved faces. His eyes were fastened on a particularly large pumpkin which was floating serenely in mid-air, much like a matronly queen surrounded by fawning attendants.

Anyone who knew him well would know that something was bothering him. There was a blank look on his face as he focused on the floating pumpkin, and his right arm continually twitched, as if he were about to draw his wand and cast curses left and right.

Someone who could read his mind would have been shocked to learn that that was exactly what he was thinking - except that his hand was twitching to draw his wand and blast the offending pumpkin to smithereens.

There had been one such pumpkin floating above him during last year's Halloween feast. He'd been watching it, having lost interest in the teacher's table when Professor Dumbledore had announced Cedric Diggory as the Hogwarts' champion ... and he wasn't paying much attention when the Goblet of Fire launched another parchment into the air ... he'd actually been musing about Linus and his infatuation with the Great Pumpkin, when he heard his name called out.

And that was the start of another horrendous year for him ...

He pushed those thoughts from his mind. He'd given up going over the events of last year over and over again ... at some point, he'd given up on feeling guilty for being the cause of Cedric Diggory's death at the hands of the Dark Lord. He'd finally realized (as he did the night that he learned about Neville's parents) that he had nothing to do with it at all ... if there was anyone to blame, it was Voldemort and his insane lust for power.

Cedric was only the latest victim in Voldemort's insanity ... a list that stretched back over years ... his parents, the Longbottoms, the Bones (he watched as Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff from his year passed him, wondering if she was related to that family) ... others that he did not even know about ...

With an effort of will, he cast around for a pleasant memory to counter the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him ... and came up with the smiling, brown-haired and brown-eyed face of his best friend.

Hermione Granger.

If there was one thing good that came out of fourth year, it was the realization that Hermione meant something more to him than just his "best friend." She was not just the brainy friend who helped him perfect the Summoning Charm as well as other hexes and charms to help him get through the Third Task ... she wasn't just the loyal companion who didn't abandon him when it seemed that everyone had turned against him (somehow, he could still remember the taste of the toast she brought him the day after Halloween last year) ... she wasn't just that striking beauty he saw at the Yule Ball - so different from his everyday memory of her that his mouth had dropped open (and his brains had probably rolled out as well) ...

She was Hermione.

Best friend. Constant companion. Guide and teacher. Sometimes a pain ... but always, always with his best interests in mind. Founder of S.P.E.W. (he grinned and waved at Dobby as he passed by.) Sometimes she mothered him too much (he smiled as he remembered her wheedling him to eat something before his first Quidditch match). His guardian angel.

His angel.

If there was one thing that he will have to thank The Great Pumpkin for, it will be that of giving him the presence of mind to remember that Hermione had been crying in the girl's bathroom during their first Halloween at Hogwarts.

He briefly pondered what it would have been like without Hermione in his life - and pushed the thought away. He didn't need that feeling of having a dozen dementors hovering around him, sucking away every bit of happiness he felt when thinking about her ...

A life without Hermione? He couldn't conceive of such a thing now. And if she didn't feel the same way about him ... Things would not change. She would still be Hermione ... she would still be his best friend ... she would still be his guardian angel ...

He hoped.

If she were a real guardian angel, she'd have long gone back to the Archangel Michael begging for another assignment. He didn't want to count (again!) the number of times she'd been with him on his adventures and crusades ... the number of times she'd been battered and bruised being with him, starting with the "midnight duel" in first year ... or the number of times she'd stopped breathing whenever he played Quidditch ...

He didn't want to remember her face covered with fingernail marks, when she'd clutched it in fear during the First Task last year. Or the look on her face when he dragged himself into the hospital wing with Dumbledore at the end of the Third Task.

She'd given so much of herself to him over the years.

And now ... he was not sure if he could ask any more from her.

If there was one thing that last year had pounded into his (admittedly) thick skull, it was the value of thinking things through, rather than plunging recklessly into danger - and too often, dragging Hermione or some other friend with him. Although he'd given up on his guilt over Cedric's death, there were times when he still wondered if things would have been different if he'd thought things through, rather than letting the allure of winning the Tri-wizard Cup rule him.

He would not make that mistake again.

This time, he will let his head rule. This time, he will follow his head, not his heart ... he will not plunge recklessly into the fire of his passion and love for Hermione ... he will take it slowly ... he will take it logically ... he will give her all the space she needed to think ...

A soft voice murmured in his ear, "Why, hello there, Charlie Brown."

Startled, he turned to face the voice, and met a pair of brown eyes sparkling with mischief and glee. He checked his sudden impulse to kiss those eyes (and everywhere else on that face, for that matter) and contented himself with an upraised eyebrow. "Charlie Brown?" he inquired.

Hermione giggled at the look on his face; he knew as well as she did what she was referring to - or did he? They both heard giggles from behind them, and turned to see several Ravenclaw first years quickly slip past them

Harry poked her shoulder and said, "Charlie Brown? You mean Linus, don't you?" as he waved his hand at the large pumpkin floating above their heads.

"Linus?" She asked him, perplexed. "You're not a Linus, Harry ... you don't go around sucking your thumb, you don't carry a security blanket with you ..."

"You're my security blanket, Hermione," he whispered. That stopped her cold. Did she actually hear Harry say that?

Before he could respond, a commotion at the doorway drew their attention. They turned around in time to see Draco Malfoy enter the Great Hall -- with his trademark smirk, and wearing only a pair of pumpkin-patterned boxer shorts.

* * * * *