The Power He Knows Not

Chapter 3 - The Best Laid Plans...

The following days stretched into weeks or months. Harry couldn't determine which. It seemed like every hour lasted three times as long. He honestly had no idea how much time had actually passed. He only knew that this felt like the darkest time he'd experienced yet. So bad in fact, he almost wished he was back at the Dursleys until the time came to return to Hogwarts. At least there he wouldn't have to keep up this charade. He wouldn't have to pretend his eyes were helplessly following her whenever she entered the room. He wouldn't have to convince himself he didn't love the way she walked, the way she spoke, or the way that that caramel strand of hair always seemed to fall from her plait and cascade down the right side obscuring part of her face.

At least at the Dursleys' he wouldn't have to be deliberately curt with her to convince her not to fall in love with him. Although he admitted only to himself he felt completely arrogant at the mere thought that she could fall for him in the first place. This part of the plan was the pinnacle of his despair, intentionally hurting Hermione without being able to tell her why. He constantly thought about telling her. He waged an incessant battle in his own head. One voice reminded him how much he loved her and told him to give up this stupid game; the other snapped him back to reality.

He wanted to talk to Ron, but in the bustle that was the Burrow, there was hardly any time when he could get Ron alone. And on the times he did, he rarely figured out how to phrase it before they were interrupted by someone else. So he plodded along with "the plan." It was an infernal plan he couldn't stand but it was the only plan that would ensure Hermione was safe from Voldemort.

He always returned to that thought in the end.

His time with her consisted of short, one-word responses, cold unfeeling looks, and reasons to avoid being in her presence. He was so tired. He was utterly depressed. However, he appeared to be successful.

Within this time, Hermione's demeanor had changed. Her quiet tone of voice and timid deportment around him had given way to a sort of "Super-Hermione" reminiscent of the one they had first met...only this one seemed to dislike him even more.

Harry didn't care, at least he didn't admit it that he did. His plan was working. She obviously wasn't falling in love with him. She was averting his stare, snapping at him regularly, and had stopped acting the least bit concerned over anything having to do with him.

Yet the war in Harry's head raged on.

Where Harry seemed to hash this matter out inside his own mind, Hermione had suddenly taken to journaling, or writing, or something. She had received an owl shortly after their encounter on the wooded trail and began writing what seemed like rolls of parchment afterward. The owl made weekly trips and returned to its master laden with a letter the size of a bolt of fabric. Harry knew the owl's destination. She had to be writing to her mother. Who else could she pour her heart out to like that? Who else could she ask for "boy" advice?

Harry was jealous. He wished he could talk to his father or Sirius the way she could talk to her mom.

"Harry, I think it's time we had a little chat." Mrs. Weasley's voice broke into his musings while he sat on the back patio. "I tried to be discreet earlier, but this calls for drastic measures." Harry looked at her with a furrowed brow. He knew what she wanted to discuss.

"I really don't want to talk about it Mrs. Weasley," he preempted.

"Harry, you must. I've seen what's been going on between you and Hermione this summer and you have to understand it's perfectly natural to be scared," she said warmly.

Scared? Could Mrs. Weasley have figured out what he was so worried about? After all, she is a member of the Order. She knows about the prophesy-it should be obvious to anyone with the information why Harry is pushing Hermione away. He felt a glimmer of hope that he could finally talk about this with someone.

It didn't last.

"Harry, girls are scary. They are very difficult to figure out sometimes and they act totally irrational. I've been watching you and I know you're angry about how distant she's been toward you." Harry suddenly realized Mrs. Weasley didn't have a clue. She was only distant because he was pushing her away. And his plan was succeeding! Or so he thought...

Harry thought back to their relationship over the past few weeks. It had become distant and cold. There was little warmth between them at all. Harry, Ron and Hermione had spent more time together this summer than ever before. He and Ron played interminable games of chess and Quidditch and they talked about (nearly) everything. He and Hermione were becoming strangers. But, even through this, his feelings for her had grown.

Every action he took he did for her. Every word (distant, short, or otherwise) was done for her benefit. She was all he thought of. In a world without worries of exams, homework, Quidditch practice or Professor Snape, she became his sole focus. Hermione consumed every ounce of energy Harry possessed. She consumed his entire being. Judging from the persistent ache in his chest, he loved her more now than he did on that trail. After admitting it to himself, it seemed an emotion from which he was unable to escape.

"Harry, I might be overstepping my bounds here, but that's what girls do. Sometimes when they realize they've fallen for someone they get scared too. That's why she's been so curt with you, I'm sure of it," she added, trying to look hopeful for Harry.

"Harry, she loves you. It's so obvious. It's nearly as obvious as how much you love her," Mrs. Weasley said bluntly. Harry snapped his head to her and saw her face break into a grin. What was she thinking? This was nothing to be happy about! He had worked so hard, so tirelessly, to ensure the statement she just made would never become reality. Apparently, he'd not been successful at all. Hermione was still a target.

Think, Harry! What else can I do?

Then it hit him.

He felt a presence just behind the kitchen door as Mrs. Weasley spoke. Hermione had been helping with the dishes and Harry suddenly realized the kitchen had fallen eerily silent. Hermione was listening just beyond the door.

This was his opportunity.

"Mrs. Weasley, you're wrong. I don't know how Hermione feels about me, but I can tell you with complete certainty I am not in love with her."

Now was time to seal the deal...

"I mean its Hermione, she's stubborn, impressed with herself, and she's got bushy hair and big teeth." The words burned in his throat, they were all lies. He hated himself for saying them. "How could I be in love with that?"

Mrs. Weasley was shocked. She didn't respond to him at all. She merely got up from her chair, ominously silent, and returned to the kitchen leaving Harry alone once more. He felt the knot rise in his throat and his vision began to blur with the tears he nearly failed to hold back. He sat there as the sun set, trying not to blink; trying desperately to keep the tears from streaming down his face. He couldn't have sat there more than five minutes before he was joined by Ron.

"Oy, mate," he said with concern, flopping into the empty chair next to Harry. "Do you know what's the matter with Hermione? She's seems madder than Filch on Valentine's Day." He smiled weakly.

"No," Harry lied. "I haven't really spoken to her today."

"Yeah, I noticed." Harry shot him a tempered glare. "Did I miss something? You and Hermione have been acting rather strange lately. The tension between you two is louder than an unpotted mandrake."

Harry was mildly impressed that Ron had even noticed. He felt the same tension between them. Hell, he'd deliberately caused it. But Ron was not known to be the most observant of sorts. Hermione still reminded Ron, on a regular basis that he had failed to realize she was a girl until just prior to the Yule Ball.

Lately, Harry's thoughts had been so consumed with Hermione, he really hadn't stopped to notice if Ron was catching on. If Harry hadn't felt so miserable about what he'd done to Hermione, he would've taken this opportunity to have that conversation with Ron. As it was, he really didn't feel like talking.

"You didn't miss anything Ron. I've just had a lot on my mind." It was not exactly a lie. He did have a lot on his mind. But, he was perfectly content to let Ron believe, as everyone else did, that he was thinking about Sirius.

"You know Harry, I'm not really sure what to say about all that," Ron offered. He quietly rose to his feet. "I just want you to know I'm here when you're ready to talk." With that said, Ron left Harry in the uneasy peace he'd created for himself.

After the house became quiet Harry decided to retire for the night.

He was exhausted.

He was horrible.

He hated himself for what he'd done and the war raged in his head again. But (his voice winning) it had to be done.

I won't let her fall in love with me.

As these thoughts passed through his mind he climbed the staircase to Ron's room. He felt worse than he ever had in his life. She was his best friend. He and Ron knew her better than anyone. He and Ron knew her hopes, her dreams, and the greatest desires of her heart. They also knew her fears and insecurities. He'd betrayed that friendship. He'd betrayed that knowledge. He deliberately used against her, the one thing he knew was the key to her insecurity; her appearance.

Harry thought she was purely insane to allow her looks to dictate her self confidence. She was beautiful. He still felt his heart tumbling in his chest every time he thought back to her stunning appearance the night of the Yule Ball. His breath, along with everyone else's in the Great Hall, had completely evaporated. After that night, he never saw her as "plain" Hermione again. Although, sadly, he knew that was how she saw herself.

If that guilt wasn't enough, he found himself passing the landing leading to Ginny's room and the tears returned to his eyes. The lights were off, she was in bed, but she wasn't asleep.

He could hear her.

She was crying.

The only other sound was that of his own heart...breaking.

The voice returned..."Go in that room and tell her you're sorry. Tell her you didn't mean it...tell her the truth!" He gazed toward the door. His only desire was to burst into that room, take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to wipe every tear off her cheeks and tell her the truth. He wanted to finish what they started on the wooded trail.

Fighting the voice this time was nearly as difficult as fighting the fake Made-Eye Moody's Imperius curse. The thought of holding her, being with her, kissing her; it was the warmest and happiest thought he'd had in ages.

But he couldn't.

The logical voice in his head (who coincidentally sounded eerily like Hermione herself) rose once more repeating the same lyrics it had sung for weeks. He had to protect her. What good would it do to give in to those desires now if it only ended in her death? He could stop that from happening. He could keep her alive.

Harry had already resigned himself to fighting Voldemort again and fulfilling The Prophesy (for better or worse) but, Voldemort was not getting Hermione. He was going to make sure of that.

Still staring at Ginny's door, his feet begrudgingly carried him up the staircase and he went to bed.

***

The following few days seemed to pass uneventfully. Much to Harry's surprise, things seemed to level off between him and Hermione. On certain occasions they almost seemed "normal." With one noted exception; there was a lot less laughter between the two of them. Their conversation was civil, but still contained an unmistakable awkward air. She continued pouring her heart out via owl post, but the letters seemed a bit shorter now.

Maybe the worst had passed.

July 31 brought a new experience for Harry; a birthday party. The Weasleys had thrown him a birthday bash (his first ever) and they spent the day enjoying each other's company. Mrs. Weasley even baked Harry a cake, which unfortunately no one was able to eat.

She had committed the cardinal mistake of allowing Fred and George to decorate the cake for her while she finished cooking the meal. Harry had seen the candles from which Fred and George derived their inspiration. Dudley had them on his cake nearly every year. Aunt Petunia used the relighting birthday candles to ensure Dudley could make at least six or seven wishes before actually setting the cake on fire.

Fred and George decided to diversify their party product line and Harry became the guinea pig for the now (at least in the Weasley house) famous "Bonfire Blasting Birthday Candles." Harry had successfully blown out his candles (after making his wish of course) and was thrown three feet backward when they didn't relight so much as exploded in his face!

Harry was only thankful that the twins had not completed development of their deluxe variety. George carried on for hours about how the deluxe candles would betray the birthday wish to everyone in the room by writing the exact sentiment in the air with enchanted sparklers. Harry's stomach lurched every time he thought of the words, "I wish to kiss Hermione" floating around the Weasley's kitchen.

All in all, Harry enjoyed his party and the gifts everyone gave him, but he endured the day without the one birthday gift he truly wanted...her.

***

As August dawned, excitement among the trio grew over their impeding return to Hogwarts. For as much as Harry loved the Weasleys, and was thankful for his shortest summer at Privet Drive yet, Hogwarts was his home. He couldn't wait to get back to his four poster bed and the privacy of the cardinal curtains hanging from it. Prior to returning to school, they made their annual trek to Diagon Alley for supplies.

Diagon Alley was alive with activity. Witches and wizards of every variety strolled through the streets purchasing their wares. Their quiet consensus was obvious. No one bothered to ask where they should go first.

Weazleys' Wizarding Weezes was everything Harry imagined it would be. Harry had been dying to see the return on his Triwizard investment. Not surprisingly, Fred and George did not disappoint.

The shop was abuzz with activity...literally. As he entered the shop, Ron ducked out of the path of four swarming bumblebees. The insects were bewitched to advertise the daily specials to entering customers.

"Hogwartzzz zztudentzzz get zzzpecial dizzzzcounts today in the 'Arguzzz Filch is our zzzero' dedication aisle."

Laughter seemed to come from every corner of the shop as witches and wizards (mostly Hogwarts students) tested new products and purchased the tried-and-true varieties. The walls of the shop were a visual monument to some of the, now legendary, tales of the twins' escapades at Hogwarts. Various moving photos showed the Weasley Whiz-Bang fireworks that disrupted instruction for days. One picture showed the swamp spell they had particularly enjoyed watching Filch's reaction to. As a testament to its brilliant design, Hogwarts still maintained a bit of it in greenhouse four. Harry and Ron noticed the most famous of all the memorabilia at the same time. Exchanging beaming smiles, they both gazed at the wall behind the counter. It displayed Fred and George's old broomsticks, shackles still hanging from one, as a tribute to their celebrated departure.

For a fleeting moment Harry wondered how they had gotten so many photos of their Hogwarts handiwork, then he saw him...Colin Creevey.

"You keep up the good work Colin! This year is the same as last. One galleon for every picture we can turn into productive advertising," Fred said, slapping him on the back.

George noticed Harry grinning wildly at them both.

"Look who we have here! The proprietor of Weasleys' Wizarding Weezes!" George howled rushing over to grab Harry by the arm and ushering him toward the front. All the shoppers were now clearly fixed on the scene at the counter and Fred continued.

"We would like to thank our dear financier, Harry Potter, for getting us off the ground. As a token of our esteem, we would like to present you with the 'Proprietor's Pack' free of charge!" he shouted, making sure everyone could see him hand Harry the box.

"An assortment of our finest products!" George continued. "All available to any Hogwarts student for a discounted price!" They both slapped Harry on the back and then trailed off to help more customers. Fred shoved a box into Ron's hand as he went. Harry quickly averted his eyes from Mrs. Weasley and tried to erase the grin from his face.

Harry had given Ron permission to tell Mrs. Weasley where the twins had gotten the money to start the shop, but he knew she was still unhappy with him. However, given the living they had begun to earn, even Mrs. Weasley didn't protest any longer. Fred and George had made more money in six months than Mr. Weasley earned in three years. She still would've preferred a more "dignified" profession for them both, but couldn't fault the fact they were wildly successful and generally quite savvy in the art of business.

The Weasleys stayed together for a while but it wasn't long before Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny set off alone. They did more wandering than actual shopping. Ron, Harry, and Ginny spent at least an hour in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Hermione conspicuously vanished during that time and the trio assumed she had gone off to Flourish and Blotts to peruse the new textbooks.

"I'm starving," said Ron, rubbing his stomach and looking toward the Florean Fortescue's. "Let's get something to eat!" he said, walking off with Ginny following close behind. Harry could've used some lunch, but just as Ron moved toward the café something in a nearby shop window caught his eye.

"You guys go on without me, I'll be there in a minute," he said, still staring across the street.

"Suit yourself Harry," Ron said, pulling Ginny toward the café.

Harry walked over to the store window. He'd not really paid any attention to this store before. He'd heard Mrs. Weasley talk about it from time to time. It was a jewelry store that Mr. Weasley couldn't really afford. The tinkling of a bell rang out as Harry entered the store and began to peer around at the brightly lit glass cases. Color and light seemed to radiate from everywhere. He'd seen Aunt Petunia's jewels a million times (likely every one of them she owned whenever someone important was coming over) but these seemed different. They sparkled almost as though they were lit from the inside. Streams of color came from every corner of the shop.

"Are you looking for someone special dear?" the shop keeper asked politely.

"Er-Excuse me?" Harry said, confused.

"I asked if you were looking for something special," the kind looking witch added with a smile. Harry thought he might need Madam Pomfrey to check his ears upon returning to Hogwarts. That sort of thing seemed to be happening to him more often these days. As he stood staring at the shop keeper, the familiar look of surprise began to cross her face and her eyes made the obligatory glance to his forehead.

"Yes, I'm Harry Potter," he added dully. He never got used to this part. "I'm really just looking around," he added. "I've never been in here before."

"Of course you haven't." She smiled. "I rarely see a boy from Hogwarts until they're at least in their sixth year." Harry gave a weak smile.

"So, who's the lucky girl?" the witch prompted. Harry's shocked expression didn't seem to have any effect on the shop keeper. "Oh come now, you're no different than every other boy that's graced my door," she added.

That's what you think.

"All of you trying to look nonchalant about shopping for the girl you've fallen for. I think it's just darling. Now, what... might I... show..." She never finished the sentence before she gasped and ran off to the back room. Harry, thoroughly confused by her behavior, continued to walk around the store.

He saw beautiful necklaces, earrings, and hair clips, but reminded himself he wasn't going to buy anything. After all, he couldn't tell Hermione how he felt, why would he spend galleons on jewelry he could never give her?

I don't even know why I'm in here.

"I believe this might interest you Mr. Potter." She returned with a burgundy velvet box. She was positively beaming as she opened it for him.

I'll bet you're smiling. If you know who I am you, no doubt, know about my Gringotts account. There's nothing like a good commission to...

Even his thoughts were interrupted by what he saw in the small box. Snuggled inside was a beautiful ring set in sparkling gold. It had a diamond encrusted dragon wrapped around a brilliantly cut red stone.

"Is that..." Harry started to inquire

"A Hungarian Horntail...yes it is! It's wrapped around an enchanted ruby. You know, during the middle ages even muggles believed rubies to be sources of power and love." Harry stood amazed, staring at the dazzling stone.

"But why is it changing color? I thought rubies only came in red?" Harry asked.

"Muggle rubies only come in red, dear. This is an enchanted ruby. It changes color with the disposition of its intended recipient." Harry looked at her with a hint of confusion.

"It changes color with your girlfriend's mood," she added shortly, clearly unimpressed by the famous Harry Potter's knowledge of jewelry.

"But, how does it do that? How does it even know I like a girl, let alone who?" Harry asked, confident she couldn't answer that question.

"Dear boy, even wizards can't hide the fact they're in love! I saw it in you the second you walked into my shop. It's what draws most of you boys in here," she added smiling. "And anyway - how it works is a trade secret. When someone buys one it completes the spell and attaches itself to the dearest love of the purchaser."

Harry was about to tell her the spell was for naught. He wasn't in love with anyone, but a sickeningly familiar voice interrupted him before he could rebuff the shopkeeper.

"I can't wait to see who that might be," said a cold drawling voice from the corner. Harry hadn't really noticed anyone else in the shop as he had walked around the glass cases. How unfortunate for him this entire conversation had just taken place in front of Draco Malfoy.

"So! Potter? In love, are you? I certainly hope she has enough sense to see you for what you really are," Malfoy added, glaring at him.

"Yeah, well whatever that may be, at least it's not the son of Voldemort's right hand man!" Harry snapped, sending the poor shopkeeper nearly into hysterics at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. Forgetting himself for the moment, Harry turned to her and slid several galleons across the counter. "Thank you for all your help, I'll take it."

When he turned back around he saw the unmistakable figures of Crabbe and Goyle entering the shop behind Malfoy.

"Go ahead Draco, you can say something now. Your courage just arrived," Harry said coolly.

"I'll bet its Granger," Malfoy snipped, laughter erupting from his lips.

"What?" Harry said, temper rising.

"Granger...It's perfectly fitting. Who else could you fall in love with but a mudblood?" Malfoy said, his eyes flashing. Harry was at the boiling point and could hardly contain the rage he felt erupting inside him.

He strolled commandingly to the three of them. "Listen up Malfoy, and I'll use small words your girlfriends can understand. Stay away from Hermione Granger."

"Or what, Potter?" Malfoy interrupted. "I'd like to see..."

"How's your father Malfoy? Been to Azkaban lately for a family visit?" Harry cut him off in a tone of voice that was intended to remind Malfoy that Harry had a large hand in putting his father in the dreaded wizard prison. Before Malfoy could string together a response Harry added, "next time you see him, tell him I said hello."

With that he strode toward the door.

Harry was in heaven! Not only had he gotten the most beautiful ring for Hermione, but he had single-handedly taken on Malfoy and his "bodyguards" and clearly ended up on the winning side. He wasn't even sure what had given him the courage to bait Malfoy the way he did, but he wasn't arguing. He strode out of the door only half paying attention to the activity on the street and crashed...right into Hermione.

"Harry!" she barked, glaring up from the ground where she had fallen. "You have got to start watching where you're going!"

"Hermione, I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," he added grasping her arm and helping her to her feet. They both started to pick up the things she had dropped when Hermione noticed the velvet box in his hand and quickly glanced up at the store he had just left.

"Harry, what's in the box?" she asked quietly.

Harry was mortified. He may've bought the ring for her, but he never intended to give it to her. It was going to be something he kept for himself, a secret between his head and heart. He had no intention of telling anyone about it, or how much he'd spent, not even Ron. He could hear Ron's astonished voice in his head.

Are you mental Harry? You spend that much money on a stupid ring and you're not even going to give it to her?

He shoved the small box into his robes and said, "Er-nothing." Looking around for any way to change the subject...quickly...he continued to help her pick up her things.

"Hermione, you sure have been going through a lot of parchment. Your mum must think you never left for the summer!" He chuckled.

"Whoever said I've been writing to my mum?" Hermione said, managing to look directly into Harry's piercing green eyes. Realizing he hadn't replied, yet stood in dumb-struck silence, she scrambled for something else to say. "I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

"Yeah, me too," Harry said looking squarely into her face. It seemed obvious to both of them that there was a lot more hiding behind the last statement they had just made. It had been so long since he really looked at her, now he found he couldn't take his eyes off her at all. Feeling the moment return to that familiar awkwardness, he changed the subject again. "Come on, let me apologize properly. I'll buy you an ice cream."

It was the first true smile he'd seen Hermione flash his way in ages.

"And you'll carry my things," she said insistently.

"And I'll carry your things," Harry mimicked, laughing.

They sat on a bench outside the café eating ice cream and talking. It was just like old times. The awkward tension seemed to have vanished completely and Harry couldn't remember how long it had been since he felt this good.

He told her about Malfoy (leaving out any part that could betray his secret) and what he said to him before literally running into Hermione.

"I wonder what he was doing in there," Hermione thought out loud.

"Probably buying something for Crabbe and Goyle," Harry said through a mouthful of ice cream.

"What were you doing in there?" Hermione asked at a near whisper.

Harry, choked a bit on the marshmallow he was eating, "I, um..just... never been in there before...thought I'd check it out," he added, trying to look as casual as possible.

"Well, what did you buy?" she added growing a bit more insistent.

"Who are you writing to?" Harry asked, mimicking her tone of voice.

They both started at each other for what seemed like an hour, waiting for the other one to answer, both sporting bright eyes and sly grins. Clearly this battle of wills was going to end in a draw.

"There you are!" Ron barked.

"We've been looking everywhere for both of you," Ginny hissed. "We should've known we'd find you together."

***

Harry lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling of Ron's room. He'd had a great day. He thought about the short time he spent with Hermione over and over again. He replayed every word she said, every look she gave him. His stomach leapt every time he pictured her smiling up at him.

Ron's snores ensured he was fast asleep and Harry snuck the velvet box out from under his pillow. He hadn't looked at the ring since he bought it. He opened the box to see the jewel sparkling in dazzling red. His face broke into an uncontrollable smile as he read the inside of the box that indicated red as the color for "love." His heart leapt.

Hermione did love him and here was the proof.

He gazed at the stone, its brilliant light streaming a warm red glow onto his face.

Ron stirred and Harry snapped the box closed. Not wanting to put it away just yet, he quietly headed down the stairs to sort out his thoughts. Although, as far as he was concerned, there was nothing left to think about. He was tired of fighting the voice in his head. Mrs. Weasley knew, the shop keeper knew, after their encounter on the trail Hermione had to know. It's about time he quit hiding behind some ridiculous prophesy. After all, Harry was smart enough to know that even if he never declared a word to her, their friendship would still mark her as a target. Why waste energy fighting her when he could be focusing on fighting Voldemort?

What will come, will come. I can't live like this anymore. I have to tell her how I feel.

He found himself standing at the landing to Ginny's room where he'd been so many times before. His heart was racing. The light was on. She was awake. He could tell her now. He walked quietly toward the room, his legs turning to gelatin, and his face igniting in flames. The voice in his head was rejoicing that he finally came to his senses.

"Hermione, aren't you done writing that letter yet?" Ginny's voice trailed sleepily out of the room. Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn't do this with Ginny in the room! This was personal and private and he needed to be able to talk to Hermione alone. He backed away from the door. He was now praying she wouldn't notice him standing awkwardly outside. A thought came to his mind and he broke into a wide smile.

Tomorrow we leave for Hogwarts. I'm starting this year out right. I'm going to tell her tomorrow on the train!

With that he swept upstairs, stuffed his hand under the pillow, velvet box clutched firmly in his grip, and closed his eyes with a smile.