Tonks tripped over the dusty curtains by the front door, sending them flying. There was a life-sized portrait of an old woman behind them. The painting began to scream as Harry and Hermione drew closer to it.
"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Stains of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth! Half-breeds, mutants, Mudbloods, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers-"
"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" Sirius roared, charging from seemingly out of nowhere.
"Yoooou!" The portrait howled, eyes popping,"Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"
"I said - shut - UP!" Sirius rehung the curtains and - with a stupendous effort - managed to force them closed again. "Hello, Harry, Hermione." Sirius said grimly, turning to face the pair,"I see you've met my mother."
"Your-"
"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley bristled in and stopped at the sight of Harry and Hermione,"Oh, Harry, Hermione, dears...um...Fred, George, Ron and Ginny need your help in the back room. The one by the toilet." At their hesitation, she hurried over and danced them trough the corridor hastily.
"Hullo, Harry!" Ron said cheerily as the pair entered the room,"Hi, Hermione. Come to help?"
Harry looked around,"I suppose."
Ginny made to close the door and block out the noise that had once again erupted in the corridor - not from Sirius' mother, but rather from Mrs. Weasley, who was now giving Sirius a very noisy lecture. Someone edged into the room before the door could close. It was a House Elf. He took no notice of anyone at all, and kept on muttering to himself.
"...too much for Kreacher, for my master still smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my mistress's house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do..."
"Hello, Kreacher." The twins chorused very loudly and angrily.
Kreacher froze in his tracks before bowing to the twins,"Pardon. Kreacher didn't see young masters." Head still pointed at the floor, he added perfectly audibly,"Nasty little brats of blood traitors they are."
"Sorry?" George said coolly,"Didn't catch that last bit."
"Kreacher said nothing." He bowed once more,"Ah, the twins, unnatural little beasts they are."
Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. The elf straightened up, eyeing them all malevolently and, apparently still convinced they couldn't hear him, he continued to mutter.
"And there's the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh, if my mistress knew, oh, how she'd cry, and there's a new boy, Kreacher doesn't know his name. What is he doing here? Kreacher doesn't know..."
Hermione spoke tentatively,"This is Harry, Kreacher. Harry Potter."
Kreacher's pale eyes widened as he muttered faster and more furiously than ever,"The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's mistress saw him in such company, oh, what would she say-"
"Don't call her - hic! - that." Harry tried to keep his voice steady, but wound up hiccoughing rather loudly instead.
Hermione looked rather submissive, unsure whether to stick up for Kreacher or to stick up for herself. In the end, she wound up deciding not to say anything to anyone but Harry for the rest of the day as the six of them began spraying the back room with Doxycide, thoughts still playing on her mind. Even then, she had only properly spoken to Harry once that afternoon. The pair had eaten dinner in silence and then wandered into the back room again as it was now free of both Doxies and Doxycide.
Harry sighed heavily and Hermione asked what he was thinking about.
"I nearly let it get him, you know, the dementor."
To Harry's surprise, Hermione didn't look angry. On the contrary, she looked sad,"Your cousin? What did he do?"
"He was making fun of Cedric-"
"How did he know about him?" Hermione asked stonily.
"Apparently," Harry mumbled,"I talk in my sleep."
"Oh. You do."
"Really?"
She nodded,"It's scary sometimes, what you say. I can only respect you more for it." Hermione sighed,"He was making fun of Cedric?"
"Called him my boyfriend 'cause I kept telling Voldemort not to kill him."
"Oh, Harry..."
"That...that wasn't it though. What made me want to leave him." Harry forced himself to say,"Not really."
Hermione urged him on gently,"What was it, then?"
"He was...talking about...about my mum."
"What did he say?" Hermione asked, her voice faltering a little with concern.
"He told me to go crying to her about Cedric. Then he asked where she was and...and he said,'is she dead?'"
Hermione blinked. She moved towards Harry and hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder. "You'll have to introduce me to Dudley one day." She whispered,"He sounds like the sort of person who wants a punch to the nose."
"Yeah, he is." Harry grinned.
"Well, if you ask Malfoy, he'll tell you that's what I do best." She said simply.
"Hermione," Harry laughed,"this is why you are my favourite person in the whole world."
Hermione flushed slightly pink,"I'm flattered, Harry, I really am, but seriously, when can I meet this cousin of yours?"
"When you've calmed down." Harry teased.
"I don't want to!"
"Well, you have to. I don't know when you'll be able to meet him, but, trust me, I'm looking forward to it as much as you are."
"Oh, I really doubt that."
***********
The day before Harry's Hearing, Ron and Hermione both received letters. They were to be made prefects. Harry felt terrible for feeling jealous of them. At least, he had done until Hermione approached him after lunch.
"I-I don't think I want to be prefect." She mumbled.
"What? Why not?" Harry gaped at her.
"I'm not sure." Hermione said, slightly exasperated,"I just...I don't want to." Harry placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "Do you think Dumbledore would let me step down?"
"Of course he would." Harry said,"He'll understand, even if you can't give him a reason."
"Thanks, Harry."
The day after, a letter arrived for Hermione from Dumbledore. He had told her of course she could step down, and that he had sort of suspected she would.
"I do wish he wouldn't always be so mysterious." Hermione said, the satisfaction the reply had given her fading from her voice.
"So do I." Harry nodded in agreement.
That evening, Mrs. Weasley threw a celebration party for Ron and Hermione. Harry and Hermione shared an extremely uncomfortable glance as they saw the handmade banner that had been strung above the fireplace. Hermione hadn't told anyone else that she had stepped down from her position.
Breaking the news to Mrs. Weasley hadn't been easy; Harry had thought it would have been best to lie and say there had just been a mix-up, but Hermione insisted on telling the truth, certain they would all understand. No one did. They had all gone slightly ballistic. Everyone had kept on asking her why on earth she hadn't taken the position, and many of them thought she had been joking. Everyone, of course, except from Harry, Sirius and Lupin.
Harry - who still wasn't entirely sure why Hermione could have possibly chosen to turn down the position - asked Sirius and Lupin about it later that evening."
"Why did she do it?" Sirius repeated Harry's question gently,"Why, surely that much should be obvious to you, Harry."
He shook his head,"It's not."
"Our suspicion," Lupin began cautiously,"is that she doesn't want the responsibilities of being a prefect to weigh down all of the other things she's got to worry about."
"Like what?" Harry asked, although he was sure he already knew.
"Like Voldemort and her O.W.L.s and her schoolwork and her parents and you." Sirius listed slowly.
"Me?" Harry didn't bother to ask Sirius how he knew about Hermione's parents; he was certain Sirius had been lurking outside of Harry's room the previous afternoon, when Harry had asked Hermione how she and her mum had been doing. She had told him things were a lot better now that she had been able to knock some sense into her mum's head. Her dad had called her to say he was sorry and - although he was still living a long way away in London - that he still loved her just as much as he did before everything started happening, he just didn't love her mum as much anymore. Hermione told him she understood. Harry had been more happy than he probably had he right to be.
"You." Sirius nodded firmly,"She's constantly worrying about you - what you're up to, where you are, whether your scar's okay. She cares about you very much, Harry."
"I know." Harry murmured.
"She'll be okay." Lupin assured him,"Just be there for her like you always have, and she'll be okay. She'll do the same for you, and you know it. Unconditionally. Don't let that end, Harry, ever. Don't stop it, don't push it away. Let it happen. It will happen in the end, either way. You can't stop these things; you can only postpone them, and what good'll that do?"
"Well said, Remus." Sirius had clapped his friend on the back before the two of them left Harry alone to his thoughts.
***********
A week after Harry's Hearing, the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione were all back on the Hogwarts Express. Harry had been interrogated about his Hearing by everyone, but had only fully opened up about it to Sirius and Hermione. Harry was very confused about everything at that point, especially his feelings towards Hermione. He liked her a whole lot (obviously) but he wasn't sure if it went further than that. Did he like her in the romantic sort of way? Did he want to go out with her, and hoped she would feel the same as he did? Would going out with her be a good idea, with regards to the inevitable future? How was he supposed to know what a these feelings all meant? Life didn't come with a handbook, or a rulebook. He didn't know what was 'okay' to do. We're these feelings 'okay', or couldn't he feel that way about someone he was so close to? He didn't know. He didn't care, either; or rather, he didn't want to.
After a lengthy and unfinished battle with his subconscious, with both Sirius and Lupin's words from the previous week still ringing in his head, Harry rested his head against the cool glass of the train window. He was certain he had fallen asleep when the trolley lady knocked on their compartment door and startled the living day lights out of him. Ron scrambled to the trolley to buy a Chocolate Frog, Harry close behind. Hermione didn't seem to want anything, as her bushy head was still deeply buried in a large book.
"Two pumpkin pasties, please." Harry said quietly to the lady. Still trying to push away his emotions as he turned back into the compartment, Harry came to a conclusion:
It was so stupid. Hermione didn't like him in the way Harry liked her, so he'd just have to get over her. Harry turned back around again. Cho Chang - the Ravenclaw Seeker - stood smiling shyly behind him. In this new, optimistic light, she looked rather pretty. The sunbeams hit her face in all the right ways, but looking at her still felt wrong. Disloyal, almost. These things were meant to take time though, right? There couldn't be such thing as love at first sight - that was only in fairy stories, Harry knew that. No, these things took time, and that was okay.
"Mate, your pasties are getting cold." Ron said.
Hermione was a second too slow. As Harry turned around again, he saw her eyes dart back to the pages of her book nervously. She had been watching him. Harry handed Hermione a warm pasty with a pang of guilt.
"Thank you, Harry." Hermione said in a small voice.
"'S nothing."
Ron cleared his throat indignantly. Rolling his eyes, Harry handed Ron his own pasty before hurrying back out of the compartment and locating the trolley, so he could buy another one for himself.
When they reached Hogwarts, the trio were disappointed when they couldn't spot Hagrid in the crowd - though that had never been a particularly tricky task. All students above first year were lead down a dirt track that they had previously been made to walk down to get to the school. Now, however, there was a long line of black carriages that were being pulled by the strangest of creatures. Harry turned curiously to Hermione and asked her what they were.
"I...I have no idea." She breathed in amazement.
"What?" Ron looked completely lost,"What do you mean?"
"Those things pulling the carriages, Ron." Harry said.
This didn't seem to help,"Mate, magic is what's pulling the carriages. I can't bloody see the magic, can I?"
"Hi guys." Neville strolled up behind them,"Amazing, aren't they?"
"Can someone please tell me why I am the only one who cannot see these things?" Ron demanded.
An airy voice drifted from the carriage behind them,"You can't see them," it said softly,"because you haven't seen death. You're not going mad. You're all just as sane as I am. You can't see them, but that shouldn't ever mean they aren't there." The voice belonged to a tall Ravenclaw girl with fair, matted dirty-blonde hair. Her glimmering eyes were startlingly large - almost like Dobby's - and they were astoundingly silver. The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness, though she was really rather pretty, in a youthful sort of way.
"Whatcha looking at?" Ginny appeared at Ron's side, making him jump.
"Thestrals." The girl in the carriage said loftily,"Hello, Ginny."
"Hi." Ginny coughed tensely.
"You can all come into my carriage, if you'd like." The girl said politely,"No one else has spoken to me yet."
Feeling a little sorry for her, Hermione led everyone into the carriage. It was a squeeze, but they all just about fit in. Harry found himself squashed right up against the wall of the carriage. Hermione sat next to him and the girl was sitting next to her, taking up rather a lot of space for a figure so slender. Neville was squashed uncomfortably between Ron and Ginny, whose tight-covered knees were touching Harry's in a way that he was almost certain must have been deliberate. The carriage began trundling along the bumpy track with a start.
Ginny gave a slightly false smile to the girl,"Everyone this is Loony Love-" she stopped dead. The girl didn't seem to have noticed anything. Ginny looked relieved,"Luna Lovegood. She's in my year and we share some classes."
"H-hi, Luna." Neville stammered.
"Hello, Neville Longbottom." Luna smiled genuinely at him.
"How did...how do you...what?" Ron puzzled.
Luna pulled an old magazine out of her bag. She opened it upside down and began reading. Tilting his head to see the title, Harry saw that it was the latest copy of The Quibbler. Luna's pale wand was stuck behind her ear and she had a Butterbeer cork strung around her neck. She was a figure of individuality, and Harry held her in a very high esteem for that.
"I've read about Thestrals before," Hermione said thoughtfully to Harry and Luna and they neared the castle,"but Ive never seen an illustration of one, as I'm sure not many people who've written about them could actually see them. They really are something, aren't they?"
Luna nodded vigorously.
"But...but why couldn't the writers see them?" Ginny asked,"And why can you three see them and me, Ron and Neville can't?"
"Uh," Neville said quietly,"I can...I see them as well."
"Oh. Sorry, Neville." Ginny frowned,"Why can't Ron and me see them, then?"
"Because," Luna replied patiently,"you haven't seen death."
Harry looked at Hermione and whispered,"You haven't seen death, either, have you?"
"I think," Hermione began in a hushed voice as Ron struck up another uneasy conversation with Luna,"that I can only see them because of what I saw last year in your eyes. Remember? I-I think that may be it."
"Can that happen?" Harry hissed.
"I suppose so. What else could it be?"
"Good point."
"Harry, Hermione?" Ron said impatiently.
Harry jumped,"Uh, yeah?"
"We're there."
Sure enough, the carriage had drawn to a halt. For a second - one, fleeting second - Harry felt that the year was going to be a good one. The happy feeling wouldn't come back once it had disappeared.