Beautiful Disaster

Hermione Granger, for the first time in her life, had finally found a problem that she did not have the solution to. In Hermione's organized mind, she had always envisioned writing the problem down, working it out, and then putting it into a file folder when she was finished. Rows upon rows of file cabinets were neatly lined up in her head, with each one of them holding her solved problems (organized alphabetically, of course). They ranged from 'Avoiding Children on the Jungle Gym' to 'Zebra Hair and its Effect on Shrinking Potions'.

However, there was that one file cabinet that was placed directly between 'Happiness at Hogwarts?' and 'Harsh Weather Conditions: Handy Charms to Use against Them'. This cabinet had a very large title, written in Hermione's neat, pristine script.

'Harry Potter'.

This is where Hermione was stuck. All of her past problems with Harry, such as 'Who Sent the Firebolt' and 'The Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament' had been dealt with. Only one file remained unsolved in the file cabinet: 'How I Feel about Harry Potter'. Hermione, being the logical person she was, had tried various charts, lists, and graphs to try and explain to herself exactly what she felt, but it had gotten her absolutely nowhere. She finally gave up on this file late in her fifth year, deciding that she could deal with it when she had more time (and when the O.W.L.'s were finished).

She never thought that she'd be fighting for her life after she finished her exams, instead of relaxing on the lawn with her friends. In just one day, she'd led her Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor into the Forbidden Forest, where she was trampled by angry centaurs. She and Harry had escaped from the centaurs with the help of a giant named Grawp. Grawp was the brother of their half-giant friend and teacher, Rubeus Hagrid, and they had met Grawp once before in the year. Then, she, along with Harry, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood, traveled to the Ministry of Magic on an invisible Thestral. Thestrals were only visible to those who had seen somebody "snuff it", as Ron had put it, and Hermione just didn't fit that description. The six of them learned of a prophecy hidden in the Department of Mysteries that Voldemort was after, and soon met up with his henchmen, the Death Eaters. She had fought well against them, but fell to her own overconfidence very early in their attempt to escape. Hermione had managed to silence Antonin Dolohov, but fell to an odd slashing curse that didn't need to be said aloud. She remembered the curse coming towards her, and recalled falling to the floor in pain. The next thing she knew, she was in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Although Hermione hated herself for it, she was rather content about not experiencing the rest of the journey. She thanked the heavens privately after she heard what had happened after she was knocked out of commission.

That lone file in her mind had the annoying habit of popping up when she least wanted it to. When it came to depart from her friends and rejoin her parents, it suddenly flew out of her mental file cabinet. Papers were flying everywhere in her mind, and she barely had time to pick them all up. She had just enough time to catch a few snippets of conversation here and there, and say a good-bye to Harry that she couldn't even remember five minutes later. Hermione's brain finally kicked in when her parents inquired about her year at Hogwarts, and she eagerly told them all they wanted to hear.

Just a week after she had reunited with her parents, Voldemort had begun attacking the Muggle-born families of students at Hogwarts in earnest. Severus Snape, the lone spy for the Order of the Phoenix, had only been able to alert them to one of the targets, which turned out to be Hermione and her family. Professor Dumbledore immediately had her family relocate to Grimmauld Place, the Order's headquarters, for their safety. It nearly blew Snape's cover, but he made it through the next Death Eater meeting nigh unscathed, according to Dumbledore. Her family was also told that other precautions had been taken to protect the other Muggle-born families and he insured Hermione that they'd be safe. Sirius Black, the former owner of Grimmauld Place, had foolishly tagged along with the Order that came to save Hermione and her friends that one terrible night in June. He was so eager to escape from the "prison" that was his home, Number 12, Grimmauld Place, that it led to his untimely death at the hands of his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. Since Harry was his godson, he inherited the house and a rather substantial fortune from him. Professor Dumbledore had let Harry come to the house to stay after a month with the Dursleys, in a desperate attempt to make amends with the boy after he had hidden so much from him. That was also the reason Hermione was brought to Grimmauld Place; to keep Harry company.

So, when Hermione walked into Grimmauld Place with her parents, she had expected to be greeted by him. She felt a slight pang of hurt when it was not Harry who came to the door. Instead, she was greeted by her former Professor, Remus Lupin. She reunited briefly with Ron and Ginny, and spent the rest of the day with the pair until dinnertime rolled around. Harry didn't come to dinner. Afterwards, she was asked by Mrs. Weasley to take Harry's plate to him, in Sirius' old room. Ron had informed her earlier that Harry hardly left the room, only to occasionally use the loo.

Hermione made her way up to the room and knocked softly on the door, then opened it after receiving no answer. Harry was sitting on the floor, staring at a picture of Sirius. Not wanting to disturb him, Hermione quietly set the food on a table that had been moved conveniently right next to the door and left for bed.

After a few good hours of sleep, Hermione was awakened by frightened screams down the hall. She dashed out of her room in her pale lavender nightgown to find Harry writhing in Sirius' bed, screaming for his godfather, Cedric, his parents, and then his best friends. Hermione hurried over to Harry and held him as he shrieked his way through his nightmare. As she rocked poor Harry to sleep, she found herself wondering about that file cabinet again, and that lone file that she had been ignoring for so long.

He drowns in his dreams

An exquisite extreme I know

She thought back to her Pros and Cons list she had attempted. She'd been thinking of it right when she should have been studying for her Ancient Runes test the next day, which caused her to stay up all night studying for it, when she could have been sleeping soundly. She had begun with the Cons side, but found it hard to spot some of Harry's negative traits, at first. Once she got to reminiscing, however, she was able to fill in a few spots: Oblivious to the consequences of his actions. Reckless, especially in competitions with others. Unable to cope with negative emotions. After that comment, her Pros side began to fill with a seemingly endless amount of situations in which all of those traits had been positive: Saving Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets. Fighting the Dementors the night they rescued Sirius. Freeing all the underwater prisoners in the Triwizard Tournament. Finally, Hermione had again given up on the list, figuring that she really should study for this Ancient Runes exam and that Harry could wait.

He's as dumb as he seems

And more heaven than a heart could hold

Hermione looked down at the now calm teenager in her arms. Realizing that this situation could be embarrassing for anyone that came to Harry's aid as well, she gently laid him back into bed and covered him up. She was just about to leave when it finally hit her like a ton of bricks.

She was in love with Harry.

Of course, Hermione had always known that she had loved Harry. When she realized it the first time, she figured it was a friendly love. Just last year, when she had recognized it again, she brushed it away as a sisterly love. But now...now she thought that she was in love with him. Not like Harry had been with Cho, not like Ron was with any girl that had a remotely good figure, and certainly not like Colin and his camera. No, she thought---no, she knew that she loved Harry just like Arthur Weasley loved Molly. She loved him like her parents loved each other. She loved him for being himself around her, for not giving in to the fame he was constantly exposed to, and for trying to help anyone he could, even if it meant harm to himself.

And if I try to save him

My whole world could cave in

She knew she was putting herself in danger, loving Harry like she and many of her friends did, but she realized that she just didn't care about herself getting hurt. All she cared about, at that moment, was making Harry smile again, like he used to so much when he was younger. Before all the pain and responsibility of getting older made him try to shut them all out.

It just ain't right

It just ain't right

Then, the logical side of Hermione's brain took over. All she had just described to herself was all well and good, but would Harry reciprocate her feelings? Would Harry accept her love, and if he did, would he just shut her out even further? What would she do if Harry didn't love her at all? Hermione finally left Harry's room, shutting the door tight behind her. For now, she admitted to herself, she'd just have to keep it like it was. It was the only way to keep her from getting hurt.

Oh when I don't know

I don't know what he's after

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she still felt that she had made the right decision. She took a quick shower, dressed herself, and joined the other "inmates" of Number 12, Grimmauld Place for breakfast. Mrs. Weasley was bustling about in the kitchen, Ginny helping out with some of the smaller tasks. Ron sat at the table, but, for once, he was not alone. Harry had finally decided to join them this morning, for reasons unknown to everyone else. He jumped as Hermione entered the room, allowing her to get a good look at him. His face was slightly sunken, and his clothes looked like they could just fall right off his body. His hair was more unkempt than usual, and looked as if it hadn't seen a good washing in a long while. None of this was very important to Hermione, however. All she could see was his eyes. Once bright and a brilliant shade of green, they were now dull and lifeless, the spark completely gone from them. To Hermione, it was as if Harry was the living dead.

But he's so beautiful

Such a beautiful disaster

Finally, Hermione took her seat next to Harry just as Ginny and Mrs. Weasley served up breakfast. As Ron reached for his second helping of eggs, Hermione couldn't help but notice Harry had picked at his food, not eating a thing.

"Harry, come on, eat! Mrs. Weasley will probably make you eat the whole table if you don't finish your plate! If she had her way, you'd end up looking like your cousin!" she whispered to Harry conspiratorially. To her great surprise, he gave her an attempt at a smile and began to eat his breakfast, albeit very sluggishly. Hermione quickly covered her gaping with a sip of pumpkin juice and began on her toast.

After breakfast, Harry didn't go to Sirius' room and brood like everyone had thought he would. Instead, he said he was going to the library, saying that he needed to "get some research done". Ron and Ginny exchanged looks with Hermione, and the three of them wordlessly decided to join him. Ginny stopped off at her room under the pretense of grabbing some Divination homework she'd hoped Ron could help her with (which led to the subsequent stomping on Ron's toes and dragging of him into Ginny's bedroom). Hermione knew she'd done so so that she had a moment to catch up with Harry, which she reminded herself mentally to thank Ginny for later.

Hermione searched the massive library for him, and finally found him in a small section, perusing the books on the shelf. Hermione went over to him, examining the books as she went.

A World of Hurt: 101 Pain Curses. Legal Ways to Torture Your Enemies. An Auror's Guide to Extracting Information from Dark Wizards.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, concernedly, "Why are you in this section? All of these books are on the Dark Arts."

Harry kept looking through the shelves.

"Harry? Are you listening to me?"

Harry still continued to ignore her, and plucked a book off of the shelf. He flipped through it absent-mindedly, hoping that Hermione would just leave him alone.

"Harry. You can't just ignore me. Now, tell me what you're doing in this section, or I'll...I'll...I'll go to Professor Lupin!"

Harry sighed. "I'm looking for a way to get revenge on Bellatrix Lestrange, Hermione. If that means I have to use a Dark curse or two, so be it. It'll be worth it." He straightened, and looked her dead in the eye. "She killed him, Hermione. I don't know what he had to go through, when he died, but I'm going to make sure that she gets a punishment ten times worse. She deserves to die, and I want to be there when she does."

He turned back to the shelves, but Hermione wasn't done with him quite yet. She had quite a bit of rage left over from last year, and when she finally uncorked the bottle, the torrent of Granger Rage swept away everything in its path.

"How could you say such a thing, Harry! I can't imagine you doing anything like you say you will! Why in the world would you start using the very thing that that horrible woman practically worships? Just to cause her pain? That's insane, Harry!"

He whirled around, advancing on her menacingly. Hermione took a step back in surprise. The Granger Rage had dried up.

"Hermione, do you know what it's like to lose every person close to you? My parents are dead. Sirius is dead. Most of my housemates are scared to death of me! Dumbledore plays me like a game of chess! The only people I have left are you and Ron! And, after last year, I wouldn't be surprised if the both of you just...gave up on me, too." He said the last part chokingly, as if he was trying to hold back a sob.

Hermione looked at Harry sadly, and took him up in an embrace, similar to the one she had given him the night before. Harry was again in extreme pain, and all Hermione wanted to do was help him. The only difference was that Harry was awake and alert, in his own living nightmare. It didn't matter, however, and Harry completely broke down in Hermione's embrace.

Ron and Ginny exchanged a glance as they rolled up their Extendable Ears. The two were stunned that Hermione had actually gotten through to the wall formerly known as Harry. Hearing footsteps, they rushed to find their homework papers. Ginny hurriedly flipped her Divination book to a random page and pretended to read. Ron began to scribble on a piece of parchment, his finger following a list of Potions ingredients. They tried not to look up as Harry and Hermione joined them later, slightly red-eyed from crying. After about ten minutes, Ron, true to form, decided to break the tension between the quartet.

"So, did anyone hear the one about the Bludger in the Hog's Head?"

Everyone laughed rather weakly at Ron's attempt at a joke, which did indeed break some of the ice.

Not a single scrap of homework got finished that day.

And if I could hold on

Through the tears and the laughter

Hermione woke again to screams from Sirius' old room. For three days, without fail, Harry had been screaming in his sleep. Since the first night, however, Harry wasn't saying anything, just screaming. Also since the first night, Hermione went to Harry's room and rocked him to sleep. And, just like that first night, Hermione would always wonder what she was going to do about Harry.

Would it be beautiful?

It was the same answer every night. Hermione always decided that what she needed to do was help Harry. Everything else would just have to wait.

Or just a beautiful disaster...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

July had just gotten into its stride when Hogwarts decided to turn Hermione's life upside-down all over again. She had just gotten downstairs to eat breakfast when four eagle owls swooped into the room, dropping off letters in front of the four Hogwarts students smattered around the table. Mrs. Weasley caught notice of the letters as she bustled into the room, carrying a frying pan of french toast in one hand and a spatula in the other.

"Oh, good, Hogwarts letters! Finally, I get to know how my little Ronniekins did on his O.W.L.'s!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, setting the pan down to give her son, who was currently scrambling to get out of her way, a hug.

"I don't want to open mine," came the quiet statement from the youngest, and freshly-hugged, Weasley brother.

"Neither do I," Harry agreed, just as quietly.

"Oh, come on, they're only letters," prodded Mrs. Weasley, back with another frying pan, this time with scrambled eggs inside. "And if you don't open them now, I'll charm them open for you and make them follow you around the house until you read them!" she finished, and went off in a huff to the kitchen.

"What's gotten into her?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged, and reached for his letter. Hermione, on the other hand, had already opened hers and was reading over the results, while munching on a piece of generously buttered toast.

From: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

To: Hermione Granger, Unknown Address.

Dear Miss Granger,

These are the results of the Ordinary Wizarding Levels exams you sat this past June. The scoring rubric is as follows:

O - Outstanding

E- Exceeds Expectations

A- Acceptable

P- Poor

D- Dreadful

T- Terrible

U- Unmarked

To achieve an O.W.L. for a subject, you must have obtained an A or above on your total score, and have no grade lower than a D in either exam section. You can receive two (2) O.W.L.'s per core course, and one (1) for each other course, not withstanding special denotations. Grading in each class is as follows:

Course Name - Written Exam Score - Practical Exam Score - Total Score - (O.W.L.'s Achieved)

Results of Miss Hermione Granger:

Ancient Runes - O - O - O (1)

Arithmancy- E - O - O (2)*

Astronomy- E - E - E (1)

Care of Magical Creatures- O - O - O (1)

Charms O - O - O (2)

Defense Against the Dark Arts O - O - O (2)

Herbology O - O - O (1)

History of Magic O - U - O (1)

Potions O - O - O (2)

Transfiguration O - O - O (2)

*Denotes a pronounced aptitude for the subject and thus an extra O.W.L. achieved

You have achieved fifteen (15) O.W.L.'s. You are ranked first (1st) in your Year. Your course choices are included with this letter. Please return them to your respective school no later than August 15.

Sincerely,

Professor Marchbanks

O.W.L. Examination Chief

Hermione let the crisp parchment flutter effortlessly to the old, mahogany table as she glanced surreptitiously at her anxious friends situated kitty-corner to her in the gloomy, grayish kitchen that adamantly refused to be brightened by anything, including the vibrant scarlet hues of the energetic Weasley family. Ron had finally managed to open his letter, she observed with a humorous air (as she had noticed that the greenish, amorphous seal on the official Ministry of Magic envelope had been broken), and was staring at it open-mouthed, similar to an oxygen-starved fish out of its homely waters. Harry, on the other hand, was visibly shaking as he ever so slowly unfolded his exam results, results that would dissertate his future as a magical being. Before either one could notice her stealthy staring, Hermione swiftly bent her head down and keenly studied the second notice she had received with her exam results, explicitly detailing her course schedule for the upcoming year.

She noted, dully, that she was required by magical laws to undergo the torture of being taught two classes by incompetent teachers; that is to say, Ministry officials. The Ministry of Magic, it had proudly stated in her pale follow-up announcement, was allowing two special professors to join the Hogwarts staff to teach two specialized classes to lucky Sixth Years. The Hogwarts staff was already a peculiar motley crew of sorts, including a rather spacy, outlawed centaur named Firenze, an affectionate-to-creatures and really rather harmless half-giant called Hagrid, a ridiculously tiny man called Professor Flitwick (who, rather ironically, was a dueling champion), a supposed Seer (Sibyll Trelawney) who dramatically predicted the death of a student every week in the dregs of a teacup, and so much more. Hermione absently wondered if Professor Dumbledore, the ancient, but not crippled, Headmaster, would allow the Ministry to interfere once again with the Hogwarts regime.

Last year, the Ministry sent Dolores Jane Umbridge, a short, rather dumpy woman, with a voice like poisoned honey and a lurid fashion sense. Hermione hoped with all her might that the Ministry was not going to send two more like that horrible hag, Umbridge. Umbridge had been assigned to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, which she did rather admirably.

For a Muggle, that is.

Not once did she allow any practical application of what she was teaching in her class. It was because of her appalling teaching methods that Harry suffered through cruel detentions that consisted of him writing the same words over and over again. In blood. It was also because of her that Hermione had conjured the idea of an underground Defense Association, fatally nicknamed "Dumbledore's Army" by Ginny, which was taught by Harry. It was probably because of these lessons that Hermione and her friends had survived as long as they had within the Department of Mysteries just last June.

"YES!!!"

The sudden cry from Ron sparked Hermione from her reverie. She looked up to see Ron grinning widely, proudly holding his exam results.

"Look, Hermione! Aren't they great?" he asked jubilantly, eagerly shoving the paper into Hermione's nose for her to read.

From: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

To: Ronald Weasley, Unknown Address.

Dear Mr. Weasley,

These are the results of the Ordinary Wizarding Levels exams you sat this past June. The scoring rubric is as follows:

O - Outstanding

E- Exceeds Expectations

A- Acceptable

P- Poor

D- Dreadful

T- Terrible

U- Unmarked

To achieve an O.W.L. for a subject, you must have obtained an A or above on your total score, and have no grade lower than a D in either exam section. You can receive two (2) O.W.L.'s per core course, and one (1) for each other course, not withstanding special denotations. Grading in each class is as follows:

Course Name - Written Exam Score - Practical Exam Score - Total Score - (O.W.L.'s Achieved)

Results of Mister Ron Weasley:

Astronomy- A - P - A (1)

Care of Magical Creatures- A - E - E (1)

Charms- A - O - E (2)

Defense Against the Dark Arts- O - O - O (2)

Divination- E - O - O (2)*

Herbology- A - E - A (1)

History of Magic- D - U - D (0)

Potions- P - P - P (0)

Transfiguration- A - E - E (2)

*Denotes a pronounced aptitude for the subject and thus an extra O.W.L. achieved

You have achieved eleven (11) O.W.L.'s. You are ranked sixth (6th) in your Year. Your course choices are included with this letter. Please return them to your respective school no later than August 15.

Sincerely,

Professor Marchbanks

O.W.L. Examination Chief

Hermione was stunned. She never thought that Ron could have possibly done as well as he had. It wasn't as if she had thought of Ron as stupid; no, more that he wasn't very studious when it came to things like the O.W.L.'s. She hoped that her face wasn't surprised as she turned to his expectant face with a brilliant smile.

"Ron! I'm so happy for you! Congratulations!" she cried, dropped the paper on the table, and hugged him in her joy. She noticed that as she pulled away, his ears were the most radiant shade of red she'd ever seen them go.

"Thanks, Hermione! I'm going to go tell Mum!" he replied in a very high and rather small voice, much unlike the stilt of a boy he was. She watched him leave, still confused as to how he'd received such high marks in Divination when he had hated the class so much. Did the special star denotation mean that Ron was a Seer? She might have expected it, what with that old saying...

"He's not a Seer, if that's what you're thinking," Harry interrupted softly, setting a letter back on the kitchen table that was most likely Ron's.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" asked Hermione, astounded.

"You had that determined look on your face that you always get when you're doing your Arithmancy homework or some hard stuff like that. You screw up your face, bite your lip, and then start tapping your foot," he replied with a knowing smile.

Hermione hastily unclenched her lip from her teeth and ceased the tapping of her foot.

"I never noticed," Hermione said airily. As she resumed her seat, her eyes swept the table in front of her and she noticed Harry's exam results lying near Ron's.

He's magic and myth

"So how did the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Take-The-O.W.L.'s do?" she questioned with a slight, mocking smile as she reached for his results.

From: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

To: Harry Potter, Unknown Address.

Dear Mr. Potter,

These are the results of the Ordinary Wizarding Levels exams you sat this past June. The scoring rubric is as follows:

O - Outstanding

E- Exceeds Expectations

A- Acceptable

P- Poor

D- Dreadful

T- Terrible

U- Unmarked

To achieve an O.W.L. for a subject, you must have obtained an A or above on your total score, and have no grade lower than a D in either exam section. You can receive two (2) O.W.L.'s per core course, and one (1) for each other course, not withstanding special denotations. Grading in each class is as follows:

Course Name - Written Exam Score - Practical Exam Score - Total Score - (O.W.L.'s Achieved)

Results of Mister Harry Potter:

Astronomy- A - A - A (1)

Care of Magical Creatures- E - E - E (1)

Charms- E - O - O (2)

Defense Against the Dark Arts- O - O - O (3)*

Divination- D - T - D (0)

Herbology- E - O - E (1)

History of Magic- T - U - T (0)

Potions- D - A - D (0)

Transfiguration- A - E - E (2)

*Denotes a pronounced aptitude for the subject and thus an extra O.W.L.

You have achieved ten (10) O.W.L.'s. You are ranked thirteenth (13th) in your Year. Your course choices are included with this letter. Please return them to your respective school no later than August 15.

Sincerely,

Professor Marchbanks

O.W.L. Examination Chief

Hermione wasn't surprised at all by Harry's exam marks. She knew that he was going to get the highest marks possible in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and that he was rubbish at Divination and Potions. He hadn't been able to finish the History of Magic exam, which irked Hermione.

As strong as what I believe

"Congratulations, Harry. Ten is a fantastic achievement! But I'm shocked that they didn't allow you to take that History of Magic O.W.L. over again!" Hermione said thoughtfully.

"It's okay, really, I don't mind. I'm rubbish at it anyways," Harry responded, but it went one ear and out the other.

"Perhaps I can write to the Ministry on your behalf. I mean, after all, you were somewhat indisposed at the time..." Hermione continued.

"Honestly, Hermione, it's okay," Harry assured her, but again it seemed like Hermione had gone deaf.

"I mean, it's totally and completely unfair of them to do this to you! You had no control over your visions, so why should you get puni---" she rambled, before she was abruptly cut off.

"HERMIONE! It's okay! Just leave it alone, all right? Honestly, you just can't let anything go without sticking your nose into it, can you?"

He got up from his chair so fast that he left it overturned, but it didn't even seem to faze him. He snatched the letter from Hermione's hands and angrily stormed out of the room, leaving Hermione sitting there alone, as if she had been run over by a freight train at its top speed. She soon recovered from her shock and calmly finished her calmly finished her toast, waiting for someone to join her in the kitchen so that she could get congratulated on her performance.

It wasn't that Hermione needed to be congratulated, but it was nice. That's why she enjoyed going back to her parents every summer, because they always lathered her with praise over her achievements, albeit a mite confusedly. But at school, she rarely was allowed to bathe in that praise. The only time she was allowed to be congratulated for her work was when Professor McGonagall would hand back essays with a small, red comment at the top next to her grade. Professor McGonagall always made sure to reward hard work, and she knew that those quick little comments on Hermione's papers always brightened her day considerably.

Hermione shook her tangled mane of hair as if to clear these thoughts from her head. It did nothing to slow her brain however, which was zipping along quite quickly all on its own, independent of Hermione's mental misgivings and limitations. It flipped past the files in Hermione's organized mind and came to rest, as it often did, on that file belonging to a certain black-haired someone that had just wounded her very terribly.

A tragedy with

More damage than a soul should see

She sighed as her mind rationalized Harry's behavior. After all, it hadn't been long since Harry had lost his godfather, Sirius, and he had never allowed himself time to grieve, except for in his dreams. Growing up neglected with the Dursleys, Harry was never taught how to deal with the pain of loss. Instead, he handled it in his own way, which usually was to bind it up inside of him into a tight little ball, hoping that if he compressed it enough, it might suddenly vanish completely. Most unfortunately for him, all that did was tighten the coils inside of the ball. Once Harry let go, even for the tiniest fraction of a millisecond, the ball would spring loose and Harry would let the anger go.

And do I try to change him

So hard not to blame him

Hermione thought that her nighttime consolation was helping Harry control his emotions, but it seemed now that she was proven wrong. Perhaps Harry was destined to be this way; always tangled up in his own thoughts and feelings, lashing out with thorny vines at anybody who dared enter his area, friend and foe alike. Maybe there was nothing she could do for Harry at this stage of his life.

'But there is,' part of her mind insisted. 'It's not his fault that he's like that. But it's your fault if you don't try and help him change that. You're his friend. Help him,' it concluded, and then promptly shut up.

"You know, talking to yourself is one of the first signs of insanity," Ron chided gently as he leaned on the doorframe, still holding his exam results in one hand that was limply resting at his side.

"I didn't realize I was speaking out loud," Hermione replied quietly, turning her head so that Ron wouldn't see the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Ron wasn't deaf, however, and he heard the morose tone in Hermione's voice. He slowly sat down beside her and hugged her from behind.

Hold on tight

"You can always talk to me, Hermione," he insisted into her shoulder.

Hold on tight

That was all it took. Hermione spun around and engaged him in a fierce hug, holding onto Ron for dear life and crying her damaged heart out. Similar to the Granger Rage, once it started flowing, you couldn't stop the Granger Reservoir until it dried out.

"When did you turn into this, Ron? When did you finally grow up?" Hermione asked softly, when she had finished letting the Granger Reservoir empty itself.

"Seeing the thoughts of people who never had a chance to say good-bye through those brains in the Department of Mysteries made me realize how lucky I am to have you, and Harry, and my family," Ron replied with a small smile.

"Thanks, Ron. You have no idea what this means to me," Hermione whispered, and planted a small kiss on his cheek. As she turned to go upstairs, Ron called out to her.

"By the way, congratulations on your O.W.L.'s, Hermione. Fifteen is impressive," he asserted with a large grin, reminiscent of his old self.

Hermione just grinned in response to let Ron know that she appreciated it, and began climbing the stairs; stairs that just a few moments ago, a black-haired boy had been watching from and crying on himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only time Harry and Hermione interacted in the next week was at night, when Harry was oblivious to Hermione's presence. Each night, he seemed to thrash more violently than the one before, and Hermione was very frightened that he was going to end up hurting himself, or perhaps even her.

He also began to mumble things in his sleep. At first, Hermione couldn't decipher what he was saying, but after a few nights, she was able to make out a few words, until the seventh night, when she heard him screaming her name.

"No, please! Don't hurt her! I'll do anything you want, just don't---no---NO! HERMIONE!"

Hermione was slightly unnerved by this, so she held Harry closer and rocked him more gently than she had any other night, singing a hushed lullaby that her mother had sung to her when she was a little girl.

The following morning, Hermione was in the library, calmly reading through one of the selections from the massive Black family collection. This one, in particular, was an interesting smattering of essays on the subject of Arithmancy, one of Hermione's favorites at Hogwarts. She had only delved into the first few paragraphs of the second essay when a shadow fell over her page.

"You're in my light," she said to the offending shadow, not caring who or what it was.

"I intended to be," Harry responded ever so quietly, and then moved to take the seat across the table from where Hermione sat.

Oh 'cause I don't know

I don't know what he's after

"What do you want?" Hermione asked acidly, marking her page in the book by folding the corner down.

"I just wanted to apologize. I didn't mean what I said. It just...I don't know what happened. But I am sorry, and I didn't want to hurt your feelings at all. I know you were just trying to help me out," Harry finished, his eyes downcast and a sheepish expression on his face.

But he's so beautiful

Such a beautiful disaster

Hermione had to give in. She knew she couldn't resist that face for long.

"It's okay, Harry. I understand. You've been under a lot of pressure, lately, and you just had to...kind of let it out. I don't blame you one bit. If I had to deal with what you deal with, I'd be a hot-air balloon right about now," Hermione admitted with a small grin.

And if I could hold on

Through the tears and the laughter

Harry's face cracked into a brilliant smile as he broke into laughter at his friend's comment. Hermione chuckled along with him for a few moments, but Harry just kept on laughing, and laughing, and laughing...

"What is so funny?" Hermione asked, pretending to be offended.

"Your face...hot-air balloon...just think of your face blowing up...like Aunt Marge!" Harry was able to spit out between laughs, before collapsing onto the floor, howling like a hyena.

Hermione shook her head, smiling, as Harry began to recover from his laughing fit. He emerged from under the table, looking as if he had just finished a Quidditch match and victoriously snatched the Snitch from Malfoy's grip.

Would it be beautiful?

To Hermione, it was devastatingly beautiful. She hadn't heard him laugh like that for a long time; so long, in fact, that she thought that he might've forgotten how to do it. It was the one thing that she thought separated him from Tom Riddle. Harry and Riddle were eerily alike, but Harry had one distinct advantage.

He could still laugh. He found the ups of life humorous---something Tom Riddle never could do. Every time Riddle experienced a good thing in his life, he was waiting for the downside. It was as if he had climbed up Mount Everest and didn't bother to stop at the top to see the view.

Sometimes, Harry scared her. It was those times when Harry would be in one of his moods, always cold and cutting, not caring who he hurt, as long as he distanced himself from everyone else. It didn't matter if they were caring friends or mortal enemies. Harry removed himself from them anyways.

Or just a beautiful disaster

"Hermione? Earth to Hermione, this is Harry speaking," Harry said jokingly, waving his hand in front of Hermione's face.

Hermione blinked, startled from her musing, and quickly changed the subject.

"Have you finished your summer homework, Harry?" she asked, knowing that she would get a negative reply and hopefully give Harry a bit of a guilty conscience.

"Actually, I only have Potions left. I can't believe McGonagall still wants me to do this homework. I'm not going to get into Snape's class, no matter how hard she tries," Harry replied.

Silence flooded the room as Hermione sat surprised, yet pleased. She had no idea that Harry was actually going to apply himself to his studies this year.

"But I still don't understand why an Auror would have to know how to brew anything that changes their nose into a pig snout," Harry finished, confused over Snape's assignment.

Hermione was baffled as well. She had already done that essay and could have sworn that it was on Glamour Potions, not the Pigsty Potion, which was a prank potion that even the most clueless First Year could brew without breaking a sweat. She reached over and snatched Harry's potions book from his hands, reading over the page number and then referring back to the assignment sheet. After about ten seconds, she turned the page and handed the book back to Harry.

"You were on the wrong page. The sheet says Page 566, not 564. Honestly, Harry, you've beaten Voldemort who knows how many times but you can't even read a simple page number! What would the Daily Prophet say to that, I wonder?" Hermione reprimanded, shaking her head.

Harry turned a deep ruby as he snatched up a quill and began to work on his essay, while Hermione returned to her Arithmancy text.

Hermione set aside the Arithmancy book perhaps a half an hour later and reached for another book from her stack on the table, this one a batch of theories on the true form of a Boggart. After reading the first theory (which was a rather interesting one on the use of a Muggle video camera and a light bulb), she glanced over at Harry, who was sucking on the end of his quill as he read over his essay.

He looks so cute when he does that, doesn't he, sweetie?

The thought had just floated into her mind all of a sudden, with no advance warning or anything. She hurriedly returned to the book on Boggarts, hoping Harry hadn't noticed.

I wonder if you can convince your Mum and Dad to get him some contacts. He'd look so much better without those horrible glasses, don't you think?

Hermione's eyes widened as the voice spoke again. Praying that it would stop, she once more tried to find solace in the refuge of a book.

Maybe you can ask him to give you flying lessons so you can join in the Quidditch games at the Burrow.

"Would you stop it already?" Hermione finally yelled aloud to the voice.

"Stop what?" Harry asked, bewildered. He didn't think he was doing anything remotely annoying.

Honey, you need to put that book away and listen to an old pro, all right?

"Sorry, not you, Harry," Hermione said distractedly, and attempted to return to the book. The voice didn't let her concentrate, however, as it continued its speech from earlier.

You know you love him. Tell him. Be with him like you want to, darlin'.

Hermione wondered vaguely why the voice sounded like it was from the American south, but dismissed it just as quickly as it came. She wanted to answer the voice, but figuring that it wasn't such a great idea to do it out loud, she reached for a spare piece of parchment and wrote her response.

'I can't,' she wrote.

And why can't you, doll? You're not paralyzed or anything, last I checked.

'It's not like that,' Hermione replied, 'I shouldn't be with him. He probably doesn't even like me like...that.'

You're not going to know unless you try, dearie.

'I can't try! I don't know what's going to happen if I do, and I can't stand not knowing something!'

Hermione looked at the parchment in shock, surprised that she was so honest with herself. She snapped out of it, though, when the voice began again.

Are you sure that that isn't what you want?

'Why would I want that? That's preposterous,' Hermione wrote.

The voice chuckled.

Give it a try, hon. You might like it. Look, sweetie pie, I've got lots more clueless teenagers to fill in today. You're a smart cookie. You'll figure it out. Enjoy him; they don't make 'em like that too often.

Hermione suddenly felt an absence in her mind. Then she shook her head, convinced that she was going crazy. Hearing voices was the first sign, after all. Perhaps she was going spare from all the stress she'd been under.

I'm longing for love and the logical

Hermione had to admit that the voice had a point. Sooner or later, she was going to have to confess this to Harry.

But he's only happy hysterical

Her mind wandered back to Harry's laughing fit. She was the only one this summer who had succeeded in making Harry laugh like that. She had guided him out of his shell that he'd imprisoned himself in since Sirius' death.

I'm waiting for some kind of miracle

Hermione glanced over at the boy that had been occupying her thoughts the most, lately. Perhaps he did feel something for her. But she knew that he'd never pursue it until Voldemort was defeated, which would probably take a long, long time. It might never even happen in her lifetime, what with the way her adventures with Harry had been going.

Waited so long

She was just going to have to wait it out.

So long

Until Voldemort was defeated, she couldn't afford to tell Harry her true feelings. It might cost thousands of lives, a price Hermione was never going to pay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Screaming brought Hermione back to the world of the living, as it did every night. Just as the numerous nights before, Hermione hurried to Harry's room and held him as he screamed his nightmares away. She soothed him as she usually did; by holding him in her arms and petting his head like a little child.

Tonight, Harry was not mumbling in his sleep. This relieved the bushy-haired girl, who was still mindlessly petting Harry's soft, but wild jet black hair.

He's soft to the touch

It hadn't been easy for her to see Harry crying out for her in his sleep, the expression of pure anguish cutting her deeper and deeper with each pained yelp. His thrashing in the bed rocked her worse than any earthquake could ever do. The tears that spewed forth from his tightly closed eyes drowned her in agony.

But frayed at the ends he breaks

But tonight, this mid-July evening, where the stars shone brightly the crystal clear window, a painful epiphany came to her that she could not ignore. Eventually, she would have to bring these feelings she had, whatever they were (for she could no longer identify them, as they were spiraling out of control), to the surface---and thus, to Harry.

Harry. Modest, shy, humble Harry. But, in the blink of an eye, angry, angst-ridden, poisonous Harry. Then in the next instant, dangerous, courageous, self-sacrificing Harry. And coming down the stairs you see happy, bright-eyed, jubilant Harry.

He's never enough

And still he's more than I can take

But that Harry was fading, Hermione thought. The Harry that laughed, played, and found light in everything was giving way to the other Harry's. The other Harry's that pushed away friends, the other Harry's that destroyed possessions, the other Harry's that had the ability to kill if they truly wanted to...

Whatever Harry it was now, it was a mobile Harry. Hermione knew better not to leap out of the bed, but still it took all of her self-restraint not to do just what her instincts told her to do. Luckily, Harry just turned over onto his other side and began to snore.

Feeling that she really ought to get back to her room and that Harry would be in no more distress tonight, Hermione cautiously rose from the bed and crept towards the door on her tip-toes. She opened it just enough so that she could get through and also avoid the squeak it made when it passed a certain point, then continued to make her silent little way back down the hall to her own resting place.

"Thanks, Mum," Harry murmured, and then resumed his snoring underneath the luminous presence of the twinkling Dog Star.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione yawned and stretched, hearing and feeling her back crack with a sharp snap as she traipsed down the stairs, on her way to breakfast. She was just about to open the door to the kitchen when she heard Ron's voice.

"So what are you going to do now, mate? I mean...you can't become an Auror because of Snape and all," Ron added tentatively.

Hermione waited to hear the response of what she hoped was Harry. As the voice responded, she found that her hopes were confirmed.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll just be a Quidditch player or something. I really can't do anything until I kill Voldemort, though," Harry admitted gloomily.

"Until you kill V---V---You-Know-Who? What do you mean, Harry? That's the Order's job!" Ron exclaimed.

"Look, you promise you won't tell anyone, Ron?" Harry whispered, dropping his voice so low that Hermione had to get a bit too close to the door for her liking.

"Not even Hermione?" Ron asked with a small gasp.

"Especially not her," Harry answered. Hermione felt confused, betrayed, and curious at the same time. What could be so important that Harry felt the need to tell Ron and not her?

Oh 'cause I don't know

I don't know what he's after

"Well," Harry continued, "you remember when I told you Neville dropped the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries and it smashed?"

Ron had obviously nodded with Hermione, because Harry plunged on.

"Er...well...there was another way to record the prophecy. Dumbledore showed me it in his Pensieve," Harry revealed.

Hermione was floored. So, the prophecy wasn't gone after all! But, then, how did Dumbledore hear it?

"But how did Dumbledore hear it?" Ron asked, unknowingly copying Hermione's sentiments.

"Trelawney told him the prophecy. She was the Seer that gave it, Ron," Harry explained.

Hermione nodded. That made perfect sense to her, now that she remembered the initials on the prophecy they had found there. Obviously, they had to Trelawney's and Dumbledore's. Now, however, she was curious to know what exactly the prophecy said.

"So what did the prophecy say?" Ron asked, once again mirroring Hermione's line of thought.

"Well, it basically says that I have to kill Voldemort or he's going to kill me," Harry said with a tired sigh, the sigh of an old man who has seen too much in his lifetime.

There was silence for a few moments as the meaning of that statement was allowed to sink into both teenagers' minds.

To Hermione, it just didn't quite connect. A memory of Harry laughing and joking with the Quidditch team popped into her head.

But he's so beautiful

Then it floated away just as fast, and a picture of Harry standing over Voldemort's smoking body appeared. He was laughing maniacally, and the Death Eaters were crowding around him. She wanted to yell to Harry, to warn him that he might get away (even if only in her head), but he just smiled at them, and proclaimed that he was the new Dark Lord.

Such a beautiful disaster

Her mind was racing now, and a new image emerged of a cemetery. A slim woman in a black dress was making her way to a headstone. Hermione was too far away to see under her black veil at first, but now it seemed as if she was moving closer and closer, like she was at a movie theater. And as she was being moved closer and closer, she was able to spot the name on the gravestone.

Harry James Potter.

She screamed and tried to run away, but she couldn't. The woman laid three black roses at the grave, and then turned around to stare Hermione directly in the eye.

Hermione screamed again and began to fall into a dark abyss. The only thing she could see was the face of that crying woman, a face that was unfailingly her own.

And if I could hold on

Through the tears and the laughter

Harry and Ron heard the first scream and came running into the room to find Hermione backing away from something, spouting gibberish at an invisible figure. Ron rushed forward to where Hermione was unknowingly pointing, and found nothing there. Harry came to Hermione's side, attempting to calm her.

"It's okay, Hermione. Nobody's there, just calm down. It'll be all right," he soothed. She screamed again, a shrill scream that pierced Harry's eardrums.

"Ron, help me out here, she's fainted. Get her on that couch," he ordered, and Ron scurried over to help his best friends. Between them, they were able to place her on the couch, her head resting on the armrest.

Would it be beautiful?

Looking down on her, Harry saw, not for the first time in his life, the beauty of his friend. He had nothing to compare her better to in his mind than an angel. She was pure, righteous, beautiful, fierce...everything he had imagined an angel to be.

Or just a beautiful disaster

"She's not breathing!" Ron yelled.

Harry sprang into action, his "hero-saving thing" in full swing. He quickly took her pulse on her wrist, but found none. Unfortunately for Harry, he had failed Health class in primary school and his misjudged where her pulse was by quite a bit.

Steeling himself, Harry began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on Hermione. After breathing into her mouth once, he found himself begin shoved roughly away by Ron.

"What are you doing?" he screamed. "You're supposed to be helping her, not snogging her! Merlin, Harry!"

"It's Muggle first-aid, you git!" Harry retorted, and leant down to attempt it again. He closed his eyes each time, and opened them when he performed the CPR, counting his lucky stars for at least remembering how to do that from his primary school days.

"Where is the bloody Order?" Ron shrieked, thankful that Mrs. Black's painting had been silenced at last.

"Come on, Hermione," he pleaded, checking her pulse again---and, of course, finding none. "Please, come back to me. I'll do anything, I swear, just come back! Come on...come on, Hermione, don't give up, please! I don't know what I'd do without you! Come on, Herm, please! I love you, damnit, come on!" Harry screamed, tears streaming down his face and his hands shaking. In fact, they shook enough that they moved to the correct spot for Hermione's pulse, which Harry finally felt.

"I've got a pulse!" Harry cried in triumph.

"What the bloody hell is that going to do for us?" Ron screamed, tearing at his hair.

"Ron, she's alive! She's breathing, oh thank Merlin," Harry gasped in relief.

"I'll go get a glass of water," Ron said, panting slightly, and ran to the kitchen.

Hermione awoke to a very happy Harry standing over her. Still dazed, however, she thought it was her guardian angel coming to take her away.

He's beautiful...

"You're so beautiful," she murmured, her hand reaching up to stroke her angel's face.

Harry's mind raced and his heart began to thump loudly in his chest. He knew it wasn't fair, that Hermione wasn't in her right mind and that she didn't mean what she was saying, but...but...

Oh, c'mon, sugah dumplin'. Kiss her. You know you want to, honey!

Harry looked around futilely for the voice with the weird accent, but he couldn't see it anywhere. Nonetheless, he took its advice and leant in, his eyes closing...

"What's all this?" called the voice of Molly Weasley, who had just stumbled into the room with many shrunk packages from Diagon Alley. Harry fell off of the couch---and Hermione---in surprise just as Hermione broke free of her mental prison.

"I leave for just a little bit to go get your school things, and I come back to find you snogging Hermione! Honestly, Harry, you could have done it in a more private place, really," she said with a small wink in his direction. Ron then ran in with the glass of water, and stopped short and the sight of his mother. Unfortunately, the water still followed the laws of inertia and spilled all over him.

Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth to hide her chuckling. Harry let it burst out. Hermione had just peeked over the couch to see it and fell back, laughter tumbling out. Ron eventually broke as well, letting the stress of the past ten minutes come out in the form of the best medicine ever produced.

Such a beautiful disaster

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry's birthday party was a big hit. Just about everyone Harry had made a friend in had come to the party to celebrate, which was at the Burrow for security reasons.

The party was just winding down, now, and Harry was sitting on the grass, watching Fred and George's new fireworks explode above. Hermione and Ron were with him, as were Ginny, Luna, and Neville.

"They've really outdone themselves this time," Ginny observed, in awe of her brothers' magical prowess.

"Yeah, they're really good," Neville agreed, his arm around Ginny's shoulder.

"They look a little like Nargles, don't they?" Luna asked, her head cocked sideways. Hermione merely raised an eyebrow, having finally learned to tolerate Luna's odd comments. Ginny and Neville laughed, and Ron looked thoughtful.

"No, a bit more like Heliopaths," he supplied with a small smile at Luna.

And as the conversation turned to what the fireworks looked like between Luna and Ron, and when Neville and Ginny became lost in their own world, Hermione turned to Harry, who was staring at the fireworks but not really paying attention.

"Harry," Hermione started, "I just want to thank you...for...you know..." she trailed off, unable to think of the right way to put it.

"Saving your life?" Harry queried, still staring at the fireworks.

"Yes, for saving my life," Hermione answered, "And for helping me figure something out."

Harry finally turned to meet her eyes.

"I helped you figure something out? You, Miss-I-Know-Everything-Granger?" he teased.

"Yeah, actually, you did," Hermione said, chuckling. "You helped me figure out what to do about you."

"Oh, really?" Harry asked. "And what exactly are you going to do?"

"This," Hermione replied, and pulled him into a long kiss.

Catcalls and jeers from the Weasley twins finally pulled them apart.

"All right, so who said by Harry's birthday? I know one of you did," Fred yelled, pointing to Neville, Luna, Ginny, and Ron.

"Me," Luna replied, and calmly took the money she had earned for her astute guess.

"Wait, you made a bet on how long it would take us to do...that?" Harry asked, confused yet amused.

"Well, if they're going to make a bet, let's give them a show," Hermione said, and pulled Harry into another long kiss.

And as the fireworks exploded in the sky, the Dog Star shone brighter than it ever had before.