The Shadows of His Past

Confiscated Smiles

By Sabrina Clarke & Edited by Fiona Chan

I can't take this anymore
I'm saying everything I've said before
All these words they make no sense
I find bliss in ignorance

Just like before...
I need a little room to breathe

...Nothing seems to go away
Over and over again
Just like before...
One Step Closer - Linkin Park (incomplete lyrics)

Hermione hurried down the frigid hallways, her feet raising a cloud of dust as they clapped on the stone floors. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she pulled her Transfiguration book higher into the crook of her arm. However, her studious mind was not on Transfiguration.

She had heard Ron and Harry talk of it many times before. She pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders and once more checked the Marauder's Map. Her breath rose in a mist as she sped down the East Wing coming to the final corridor. Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door. As it creaked, the thick door shuddered on unused hinges, shaking off the years of dust accumulated on its heavy oaken surface. The map indicated the shortcut to the Gryffindor Tower.

Behind her, a shadow slinked in the hallways, treading carefully and making no noise on the cold floors with his slippered feet. He paused. What was he doing here? He stopped and skulked behind a stone column, as she halted in front of a dusty door. What was she doing? What was he doing? He hung back uncertainly.

She stared down the empty hallway as her breath rose in a mist before her. Rows and rows of doors stood parallel to one another. She hurried down a corridor and spying a dot that said, 'Argus Filch' walking down in the opposite direction, she sped back. Behind her she heard footsteps patter and she knew she was cornered. She buried her face into her hands, feeling desperate and confused all over again. She never felt this way before, and now, it was wrecking her apart. Look what love has done to the serious, practical Hermione. She took another deep breath and halted before a door. Hearing both footsteps slowly close in on her, she hurriedly pulled it open and slipped in.

When she took a quick glance around the room, she knew she had found it. It was like a wish come true. Hermione admired its golden-clawed feet and the words written along its border. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. She trailed her fingers left to right across the dusty writing. "I show not your face, but your heart's desire," she read aloud. She smiled- it was perfect. It was just what she needed- something to help her figure out who her hearts desire was. Whether it was all right. Whether Draco would ever be the kind of person she hoped he could be. Hermione looked anxiously at the gold border wondering if she should have found some charm or incantation. Then she laughed to herself, If Harry could do it then you probably didn't need a charm for it. She remembered when in fourth year she had to stay up all night to help him with the simple Summoning Charm.

"All you need to see what you want most in the world is to look into it," muttered someone from the door.

When Hermione heard his voice, she realized she did not need the mirror at all; she knew who her heart's desire was all along.

"Ron," she breathed as she met the brown eyes of someone she had loved for so long and hadn't even known it, "What do you see, when you look in the mirror?"

"I -I...I see," Ron looked into the mirror's reflective surface, showing another image of Hermione, identical to her now- with her tousled hair and fluffy slippered feet. She looked uncomfortable, awkward, and confused. That only made him love her more and he loved her so much. Even more then when he first found out that he loved her. That night at the Yule Ball. That fight at the Yule Ball. He gently shook his head, he couldn't tell her. He stuttered a lie, "I- I'm Quidditch Captain of the Chudley Canons and- and rich. Really rich." His cheerful voice was like a sharp blade through a tentative hope. The glimmering light in her eyes flickered out.

"You're Quidditch Captain? You don't see anything else?"

Ron thought he detected a bit of plea in her voice, but he had long given up on her ever coming to look at him more then just a friend. Wishful thinking had gotten him nowhere, and dreaming had only caused him to oversleep. "What do you see?" he asked expecting a Head Girl badge. And Malfoy. After Harry had mentioned seeing Malfoy with Hermione and noting the way she had begged for Harry to return to him when he was weak- the truth could no longer be avoided. And those darting glances that she gave him when she though no one was watching. Or her suspicious sudden interest in Quidditch. Hermione loved Malfoy. She had no idea he knew. He was broken hearted not dull-witted. He had considered giving Hermione the cold shoulder, in lieu of her mysterious liaison with the Slyhterin prat. What was to be gained when he had already lost who really mattered? Hermione.

"I'm Head Girl, of course!" cried Hermione cheerfully, effectively plastering a smile over a sigh that Ron's response had caused.

Ron smiled to himself, I really know Hermione quite well. As he left the room he stopped at the door. "Hermione, all I really want is your happiness- even if I'm not part of it," Ron whispered as he stared at his somber reflection in the Mirror of Erised. The room was silent, except for the creaking of the rusty door hinges as he closed the door. If one were to listen a little bit harder, a fragile tinkling sound like shattered glass could be heard, almost like breaking hearts.

He left her staring at her reflection and alone with her thoughts. She was laughing as she tweaked a nose on a freckled face and kissed it.

"Oh, Ron, if only you knew," she sighed and stared, transfixed, at his image bending down to kiss her.

****

Rain fell softly on the village of Hogsmeade.

It was dusk as the shadowy obscurity descended upon the crowded bar, the Three Broomsticks. Her dark hair brushed against his as she gave him a gentle kiss on his sparsely be-freckled nose. He whispered something with a muted laugh.

Her lips drew into a childish pout, and with a swift gesture she pushed back the brown locks from her pale face. "Oh Seamus..." Lavender laughed, "I know you don't mean that."

Ron had imagined Hermione and him happy like that so many times that on some occasions it felt so real to him that he had to remind himself that it was only wishful thinking. Thoughts of her crowded out more pleasant thoughts of rainy days. He averted his eyes and instead stared long and hard at his 5^th butterbeer before taking another sip. Too bad he wasn't old enough to get drunk. He'd always wondered what it was like. "Ron?"

He jumped and dropped his mug with a thump on the scratched wooden floor. It was she. Damn. He felt the color rising in his cheeks. He didn't turn around- his blush was probably now in full bloom. He looked at the pieces of his mug and mumbled, "Reparo." with a listless sweep of his wand. I wish other things could be fixed as easily with the wave of a wand. Like my stupid heart. Damn, I'm being melodramatic again.

The steady rainfall offered Hermione none of the comfort it did Ron. "Ron?" her voice came softer, almost hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Well, you spied on me..." Ron paled, obviously guilt-ridden at the remembrance. "Thanks," she said quickly, "- for everything." He didn't acknowledge this so she continued, "Especially, for caring enough to spy on me." Suddenly, she found herself second-guessing everything she said- a possible first of Hermione Granger. My God, was that as corny as it sounded? No wonder he's not talking.

Sure, anything to help. Anything to keep you safe. Anything be closer to you, I suppose. Anything for you to love me. "No problem." He could feel her footsteps begin to shuffle away, but his mind was a bit numb. Stop her. I can't. I'm not the one she wants; she wants-

"Ron?"

"Yes Hermione?"

"I love you."

"What about...?" He cut himself off, and continued in a deadened voice, "I know about you and- Malfoy."

The color in her face rapidly diluted, How had he known? A pang. It was so familiar whenever she thought of Draco- the painful sting that continued to sear right into her heart. It was strange, really, to even feel something deeper, besides hatred and anger that she was supposed to feel whenever Draco was around. "He'll never change."

Ron spat, "Why Malfoy- of all people?"

"I don't know."

Ron looked skeptical.

"Look, I- I don't always have the answers, Ron. I don't always understand things. And I don't always get things perfect. Sometimes I screw up too, you know-" Hermione would never admit that to anyone else.

Ron knew that. "I might as well do this right..." He drew out the seconds into extensive pieces of eternity. Hermione waited.

"I love you too." And he turned around and kissed her. She was so surprised, she couldn't move, but she didn't want to. All those years of loving someone right under her nose, and Fate's little joke of never realizing it until it was almost too late- all of that had culminated into that flawless instant of ecstasy.

As she walked away, Ron looked at the sky; truly only a dismal blackness that could be seen through the frosted and fogged window- and imagined all of the stars he had wished on. "Thanks."

****

"Finally."

Ron gave Fred and George a silencing look. George sighed very dramatically and began polishing the countertop in their rather disorganized joke shop. "Really do something special for her. According to what you tell me, your reaction wasn't what I would call promising." George rolled his eyes at Ron and brandished his rag smelling strongly of Miss Skower's All-Purpose Stain Remover under Ron's long nose.

"Like what?"

"Oh I don't know, something really charming and considerate - something un-Ron Weasley-like." Fred nodded, popping a Canary Cream in his mouth and turning promptly into a canary.

"Oh thanks."

"Ron...Ron...Ron...you just aren't good with the ladies like me," Fred said, molting bright yellow feathers all over the newly swept floor. Ron laughed.

"Fred! I just swept that floor!" George shrieked, smacking Fred smartly on the head with his rag, mimicking Mrs. Weasley. Privately, Ron thought that George was often in tune with his inner Mrs. Weasley.

However, Fred ignored his twin- in fact, treating him much as he would his mother. He feigned hurt. "Ronniekins, we just want to show Hermione the best Weasley time. We all love Hermione so. George or me may have to pick up where you left off- you know for the sake of our family honor and all, if you screw up." They winked at Ron.

Ron threw an exploding pillow in his general direction.

"Yeah," chimed in George, ducking the flying goose feathers with ease. "It would just be too tragic if you got locked in the Shrieking Shack, or something, and couldn't get out." He eyed Ron speculatively then returned his gaze to the Shack just across the street. Ron's eyes followed suspiciously and he didn't notice Fred sneak up behind him.

"We're trying to set a good Weasley example!" Fred yelled, pinning Ron's arms by his sides and forcing him towards the door.

"Ahhh!" yelled Ron, laughing. "If you throw me in that house, you'll be sorry you set off the anger of any nasty devils that live in there!"

Both of the twins cracked identical smiles of excitement.

"Sorry?"

"We can hardly wait!"

****

Hermione and Ron walked, hand in hand, across the grassy courtyard, heading for the lake. She brought Ron to the very rock where she dreamed Malfoy had stood precariously on.

He sprawled himself on the ground and leaned against a nearby, conveniently placed rock. "Let's just sit here." Hermione saw him bathed in green drifting leaves. And she saw Draco, that fateful day...Had she made the right choice? She felt out of place- with Ron. "Have you told him yet?" asked Ron triumphantly. He held her hand tightly as though affirming that she was there- with him.

"Erm..."

"It's okay Hermione; people will know soon enough," said Ron, putting his arm around her shoulders. Suddenly, with that nonchalant gesture, her whole being came to life. She could feel her skin tingle at Ron's touch, she could hear his breathing so close and cadenced with hers, she could smell the faint of aroma of the blooming flowers drift around her- her senses were alive. She's alive. It was as though all along she had been sleeping- blissfully unaware of all the littlest things, which mattered nothing, but now meant so much. And it was so wonderful to be awake.

Hermione smiled savoring the moment, ethereal and real at the same time, as if that one little gesture, that moment, was enough to last for a lifetime. "Ron," said Hermione happily giving him a silent thank you for creating one of those precious few moments of utter elation. Ron was so sweet, so understanding. And there was a lifetime of moments ahead of her, which could only rival the memories behind, because love gave a haloing quality to existence. The value of the time they spent together- at each other's throats, saving each other's necks, in each other's arms- was increased twofold now that they were in love.

This is the kind of thing that lasts forever, Hermione thought with reasonable certainty- despite her lack of knowledge in such matters. Or perhaps, the lack of knowledge in the ways of love made her all the more wise. She fleetingly wished there was a book on this sort of thing.

He squinted up at her, but the glaring sun obscured her smiling face. He moved his head down from the rock and moved it a bit below the rock so all of him was obscured.

"Hermione," mumbled Ron, half-asleep. For several moments she sat next to him watching the blue lake occasionally ripple with the tentacles of the giant squid. Entwining her fingers in her hair, she stood up and walked to the very spot where Malfoy had stood. She felt perfectly contented.

Draco Malfoy burst in, happily throwing his arms out as though embracing the world. "Hermione!" Hermione was silent and her eyes flickered to sleeping form of Ron. Draco followed her gaze and hissed, "What's he doing here?"

Hermione looked at the water, but his eyes were reflected in the iron gray surface. "Funny thing- I love him." She attempted a smile.

Draco was silent, as he stayed rooted for a moment. His gray eyes roamed over the lake and the Forbidden Forest, but mostly he looked at her, capturing the moment where she stood framed in sunlight. Why? What did the pathetic Weasley have that was more then he? For the first time, he looked jealously at the sleeping form of Ron. Feeling second bested by Weasley was like white-hot pain coursing through the depths of his soul- grating unpleasantly on his ebbing pride. Draco pushed these thoughts away... he always did... thoughts like these he kept safely locked away. He realized his father had been right all along, though the thought gave him no comfort.

His arm stung from the symbol of all those not foolish enough to fight destiny, through his robes he could trace his long fingers around the Dark Mark. The glaring light reflected off of her and Ron's Gryffindor badges, which shone proudly over their hearts. He looked at his own heart, and his eye caught on his Slytherin badge. The image twisted tighter and tighter around his heart, wringing out his emotions in a steady trickle. With an unreadable face, he tore off the badge and flung it into the depths of the lake. Hermione looked startled at this action, but remained silent. Ron gave a snort, but no one seemed to notice.

"You're not angry at me, are you?" asked Hermione timidly, almost apologetically. She sounded almost fearful, that unnamed emotion, smoldering like ethereal fire in his eyes intimidated her and burned little fissures in her watertight confidence.

Draco remained silent, focusing on the green leaves behind her. His voice was distant and thoughtful, "Of course not, you made your choice."

"We're still friends, right?" asked Hermione tentatively, reaching out for his arm.

Tucking a stray strand of bushy coffee hair behind her ear, he whispered, "My little Mudblood. I guess." She might have even believed him, if not for the utter absence of emotion. He bent down and as though to kiss her. Then he straightened himself up, staring at the lake behind her with a curious fascination. "Good bye," he said calmly.

Hermione wanted him to be angry. She could take anger, frustration, even tears- not that she expected it from him, but how could he accept so calmly that I'm with Ron now? Unless it was all a charade. Unless his words were all meaningless nothing's whispered to her to melt her resolve.

She felt his hand gently pulling her's away from her face, and holding it tightly. "I love you, G-" he stopped and looked thoughtful. He regarded her with what would have a smile if there had been any kindness to it, as if amused that she not understood some joke of his. He kissed her one last time. A kiss that said everything unspeakable, everything that the Malfoy pride, and Draco's fear, held back. It was a kiss that tore her apart. She felt weak in his arms. All she could feel was his mouth pressed to hers and his arms that cradled her gently. Birds twittered unheeded. A splash where the giant squid had disturbed the serene waters. Every stress in her life was delightfully eliminated to excess background noise.

Ron snored. She broke apart from him, pushing his arms away from another embrace. They faced each other for what seemed like an eternity, his arms laying slack at his sides and her hands gripping tightly at his wrists. His gray eyes were magnetic- she could not let go of him.

He gave her a sardonic grin, and stepped back and effortlessly pulling his arms out of her grip. "We can always be friends," he laughed as though he seriously doubted it, replacing his impassive mask under a thin veneer of Malfoy indifference. Draco flicked his eyes over to Ron, who gave another snore, "I knew you'd end up with either Potty or the Weasel." He smiled a brittle, hard smile- devoid of expression, but with intent of casual arrogance.

He walked away. Hermione stood stunned for a moment. In her heart, she felt a void, a burning sensation in the empty space that once belonged to Draco Malfoy. Where did they life that she felt course through her minutes past, go? Or maybe she had just been dreaming.

She sat silently and leaned her head against the rock where Ron lay. She prayed for sleep and the comforting illusions that tiptoed in its wake.

"Goodbye, Malfoy."

****

That was how it ended.

So, when they bumped into each other, a few terse remarks were made involving the words "Mudblood," "prat" and things generally unmentionable in the hearing distance of the clergy and your mother. Just playing the comfortable roles of enemies, brought back the familiarity that everything was certain. The blurred edges became harsh clarity. And inexplicably-

Mundane.

To Hermione it put things into perspective. It put things in black and white. And as she feverishly added paragraph after paragraph to her Transfiguration homework, she realized that's how she liked things best.

She stood and twirled her quill absently with her fingers.

As Hermione opened her window, a huge owl burst through, dropping a letter for her on the floor. She picked it up and teased open the flap. A shimmer of bright green. And the letter fluttered on a velvet-backed chair in front of the Gryffindor Common Room fire.

It was the first one that had come in a long time. It looked exactly the same as before and it lay open in front of her. She felt scared to touch it. Gathering up the twisted remains of her courage she held it over the fire. She was afraid to draw her hand out; a picture of her house was in that envelope. How could she let it go? The flames licked her fingers and burned her, as the letter was slowly engulfed, but she did not move. The world is a cold place, she thought as she felt the searing hotness of the flame, dulled against her skin. She shivered. Her mind commanded her, move your hand. But her whole being was numb- Move your hand.

She heard a cry. Move your hand. A bolt of red knocked into her arm, smothering the fire the blossomed from her skin. And slowly, she watched the charred remains of the letter fall into the fire. Two pale arms encircled her waist and held her close. A whispered charm drifted over her, and she felt nothing. It was bliss.

"It's okay, Hermione. It's okay," whispered Ron. He looked at her, and brushed his lips against her forehead. But Hermione felt nothing.

****

Draco was hastily writing on a piece of parchment.

Ron prepared to move on, but presence cried out. Something happened with Malfoy and Hermione. And he wanted to know what.

"Malfoy," Ron hissed, approaching the blonde boy, who continued scribbling on the parchment. A floorboard under Ron's shoes creaked. Malfoy looked up, with what Ron might have seen as fear, except-

"What are they paying you to state the obvious, Weasley?" Draco thrust whatever he had been writing, away. "What do you want?"

"I want to know what happened with you and Hermione-"

"Don't pester me about that Mudblood."

Ron paused, for a moment- silent. He stared at the exposed edge of the letter- just a line in ink. Ink that matched the bottle next to Malfoy. It was a strange shade he had never seen before in Flourish and Blotts, but it still seemed oddly familiar. And he began thinking.

"You stay away from her, Malfoy," he muttered under his breath as he left the library.

Draco didn't even look up. Ron's threats were empty. It was always a pleasure to see Weasley belch slugs.

****

"How could you do this to her?" cried Harry Potter, apoplectic with rage. "Sending her those threats, what do you think your playing at?"

"Potter, you don't know what I'm capable of."

"You know what?" Harry hissed, "I'm not going to tell her, Malfoy."

Malfoy snorted. Do you think you're doing me a favor, Potter?

"I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for her. Wha-" Harry lay on his back- motionless.

Draco stood over Harry's motionless form. His wand was poised and his breathing was ragged. So, Potter, look what I'm capable of.

"Draco!"

It was the first time she had spoken his name aloud in public.

"Malfoy..." she hissed, looking from her motionless best friend to him. "What have you done to him?"

Draco stepped back, and walked out of the library. "You figure it out."

****

She walked towards Draco and Harry, heart ramming mercilessly against her ribcage, because some part of her knew what she was about to see.

Perhaps she called his name. She didn't remember. As always this display of his darker side- or perhaps simply the reminder that he had one- frightened her.

Yet, to Draco it was surreal and part of something he felt infinitely remote from, but was nonetheless part of him. "What have you done to him?"

"You figure it out." I let him walk away. I let him leave.

He couldn't...he didn't...She turned away from the motionless form of Harry and turned to the table where Draco had been seated where his belongings were scattered. Inconsequential items really - a luxury eagle feather quill, a roll of parchment, and a bottle of bright green ink. Was that her bottle from the train?

But that was quickly dismissed. Was it a full body bind? She quickly muttered the counter curse. Harry didn't move.

"Hermione!" Ron cried. He looked at Harry. "That should have been me-"

"Ennervate."

****

Hermione Granger stared out the window; the weather against the panes reflected her face, splattered with tears instead of rainwater.

Maybe because she had paid too much attention to those romantic Muggle movies, thinking that someday, the story would end up being hers. Having been with him for these months, only to see the fading memories of a long-passed dream embedded in the gleam in his eyes was yet a harder form of torture. She couldn't help but mourn for the loss, of a love that might have been- and had been- but never will be again... but she had Ron. Ron was everything that Draco couldn't be- and her friend. We can always be friends, and he laughed. But the laugh told her more then his placating words. It told her they would never be friends.

It was all a lie.

The parchment tightly curled into a ball in her grasp. She threw bitter tears into the dying flames of the Gryffindor Common Room fire. "Goodbye, Malfoy," she whispered.

****

Goodbye, Malfoy.

He awoke. Draco lay, all alone, in the Slytherin Common room. He shivered- the fire had gone out. The flickering lights from the torches did little to lift the deathlike gloom that permeated the walls, the ceiling and the floor. He slowly arose from the high-backed chair where he had fallen asleep. He needed to get to bed.

He trudged up the cold, stone steps as he approached the dormitory. As he entered his room, he felt a lethargy, which threatened to make him collapse. It was a bottomless exhaustion that only comes with emotional and physical strain. He looked at the fire, dancing and crackling in the hearth, warming him from the cold atmosphere of the common room. He tried to close his eyes and block the sadness that threatened to overwhelm him...blissful blackness. He saw her smiling happily. And he saw the stunned look flash across her face... He heard screaming and two words...Goodbye, Malfoy. Hermione, she was the kind of girl he had never quite understood and because of this, was doomed to never forget. With a groggy swish he waved his wand and sound-proofed his walls, but the screaming was ceaseless. Draco groaned aloud. He lay awake, unable to move, and unable to fall asleep.

****

"You guys aren't listening!" Hermione snapped, as she saw both of their gazes drift to scenery that flashed past the Hogwarts Express.

"Nothing could possibly distract us from this engaging conversation," Harry hastened to amend.

"Nothing," Ron agreed quickly.

"I'm glad I know that I can count on you. Even though the witch with the food just passed us-"

"Witch?"

"Food?" And they were gone. Boys. Hermione sighed and raised her eyes to the Heavens in supplication for two best friends with dainty appetites. The door opened and leaning against the wall in a most irritating way with his most irritating smirk, was Malfoy.

She felt that familiar breathlessness descend upon her. Hermione pulled her thoughts together and let the slightly bossy, always sensible, in control, real Hermione Granger take over. "Get out!"

"No."

"You always were the perfect gentleman," Hermione snapped sarcastically.

"I'm always polite to ladies."

"Of course, they might go and beat you in a class or something."

"Like Potions?" Draco said, sarcastically reminding her of his superior Potions grade.

Hermione was uncharacteristically silent. "Is this the way it's going to be, Dra-" Hermione quickly corrected herself. "Malfoy?"

"I suppose I'll expect nothing less. It's a shame though-"

"It might have been love."

He was careful to avoid her gaze. "It could have been anything." He rocked slightly with the train movement, and Hermione resisted the urge to reach out and steady him. They both waited in tense silence, making and breaking eye contact. Their eyes met... there was a distant cry of, 'Tevor!' and, just like that, the moment was lost. Who knows what might have been said had Neville not called for his toad?

But, by this time, Hermione had regained her composure. "It could have..." she answered slowly, now also looking away, "One day, maybe- I'll forgive you-" Draco raised his eyebrow. "No. I won't. That's a promise." Hermione sighed. You've made me eat my words before. She fiddled absentmindedly with a corner of a letter in her hands.

He reached into the front pocket of his robes and pulled out a letter he left it on the empty chair which, moments before, has been occupied by Ron. She gave it a wary glance.

"See you next year, I suppose" he said as he stepped out of the compartment.

Hermione resented the over-confident way that he spoke. She peeled back the adhesive flap that closed the envelope.

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

We are most pleased to inform you that you have been recommended for the position of Head Boy. Careful examination of your character, academic performance, and extra-curricular activities has gone into determining your suitability for this position and we expect you to fully live up to your position by setting an example as a positive role model for your peers.

You will report to the first carriage on September 1rst and receive instructions on the duties that accompany the position of Head Boy. If you find yourself unable or unwilling to carry the burden of the Head Boy title, contact us no later than July 30^th so a suitable substitute may be selected.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

At the bottom Draco had scribbled, 'Don't bother giving this back. I have a copy. Bet that last sentence sounds a lot more tempting now. At least, no unpleasant surprises this way.'

She pulled out her own letter and held her letter and his side by side and frowned. She slammed the door.

"Looking at that letter again Hermione?" Ron called from the entrance to the compartment, his arms full of Pumpkin Pasties and Cauldron Cakes. "Going to frame it?"

Harry popped a Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean in his mouth. "What's the first thing you're doing when you get home?"

"I'll hug my mum and dad." Hermione grinned. Those letters, they helped me realize how important my family was to me- how many times had I gotten home and gone straight into my room to owl my friends? It was times like these that she missed the closeness that they had before she was a witch. She noticed Harry was frowning and regretted her tactlessness. "That was sort of cheesy, wasn't it?"

"No- no, it's sour apple," Harry answered her, quite seriously. It took her a moment to understand what he meant.

"As for me, I'll ask Percy to give Cornelius Fudge a good pick up the-"

Hermione cut Ron off quickly, "What about you, Harry?"

"I'm buying myself a lock for my trunk," Harry replied, with a small smile at Hermione. Ron winked. He pulled out the trunk and slowly began tugging it down the steps. He wasn't about to expect any help from the Dursley's so he should best heave-ho. With a grunt, he threw his trunk unto a trolley and pushed it into the Muggle platform. Upon entering, he was greeted by an unpleasant screech of welcome- although not for him.

"DUDLEY DIDDIKINS!" cried Petunia Dursley, catching Dudley in a warm embrace. Several of his classmates laughed. Dudley made a mental note to beat them up. "Mommy is so proud of her little angel!" she pinched his chubby cheek, "You made me and daddy all smiles," somehow Aunt Petunia managed to make the word, 'smiles' three syllables, "when we got your report card! Perfect marks!"

"Your boy is such a prince, and a dedicated student-" interrupted Vernon Dursley, pulling Dudley into a gruff, one-armed embrace.

"How did you do it, Dudley? Bribe the teachers?" Harry snickered, but in a safe undertone. He wasn't quite sure on how much thin ice he had to skate on to rile Aunt Petunia when she was in paroxysms of glee.

No response. Dudley had fallen asleep.

An hour had passed.

Another.

"AARGH!" Will I ever wake up normally? Perhaps by sheer force of habit, Dudley found himself regaling the events of his dream, "Mum...Dad! I had this other weird dream there was an old man with spectacles, and a lady with a... sponge? - No, the creepy thing was, they were magic!"

Petunia and Vernon's eyes focused on Harry for a moment, which was a rather dangerous thing as Uncle Vernon was driving, and gave him a dirty look.

"You know all those mysterious deaths? It was done by magic, by this queer guy in a dress, his name was... Voldemort? Yeah, whatever. But- but..."

"Who put this nonsense into your head?!" thundered, Uncle Vernon, turning a corner so sharply that his side view mirror nicked at a stop sign.

Dudley apparently wasn't listening. "And then Harry- did I tell you he was in my dream?- anyway-"

Two pairs of eyes again swiveled in Harry's direction, to be received by a bland innocence that sparked further suspicion. "Harry Potter- what the devil have you been up to?!"

****

Why are there so many songs about rainbows,
And what's on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
And rainbows have nothing to hide. [...]
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

Who said that every wish would be heard and answered,
When wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that, and someone believed it,
And look what it's done so far.
What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing
And what do we think we might see?
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

All of us under its spell,
We know that it's probably magic...

Have you been half asleep? And have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailors?
I think they're one and the same.
I've heard it too many times to ignore it,
It's something that I'm s'posed to be...
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers, and me...

The Rainbow Connection - Jim Henson (incomplete lyrics)

A/N: I know this is technically 'the end' of the story, but the epilogue has yet to come. Stay tuned! I really, really like this Epilogue thing a lot. REVIEW! Just so you know, Harry and the Dursley's never return to Privet Drive. They have that long awaited home in Majorca, to visit in the summertime.