Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, strode behind the Headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore toward Number 4 Privet Drive.  It was almost six years to the day Minerva had against her better judgment, left Harry Potter with some of the worst muggles she had ever observed. 

They had just come from inspecting an empty blue house shown to them by a hysterical Arabella Figg. Mrs. Figg had excitably relayed that one of the most famous wizards had been taken by unknown muggles. And not only had he been taken, which was concerning enough,  Mrs Figg had also stated that a young muggle-born witch had made an unbreakable vow to keep the boy with her!  Minerva barely contained a snort as she thought of the preposterousness of that claim. 

A young child with no wand, no training, and then based on the observations of a squib? Minerva was quite sure Mrs. Figg had imagined the whole thing in her hysteria. 

Minerva waited as Albus pounded on the door to Potter’s relations quite agitated. 

Vernon Dursley opened the door quickly, with his wife behind him, both of them sneering immediately at seeing the two weirdos in robes on the other side of their front door. “We no longer have anyone here that would interest you freaks,” Vernon said spitefully. 

“Mr. Dursley—” Albus began patiently. 

Petunia Dursley cut Albus off sharply. “No! You left that freak with us without even asking us. My family is here–we’re normal—we are not like you freaks and we don’t want to be like you or associated with your kind ever again.” 

Minerva kept her face straight with difficulty. It had always needled her that they had left Harry Potter with these people, but no amount of arguing with Albus had ever changed his mind, and this was no different. 

“Where is Harry Potter?” Albus demanded. “Do you realize what you have done?” 

“We don’t know where the little freak is and we don’t care. He’s not our responsibility any longer.” And with that, Vernon Dursley slammed the door shut in their faces. 

Albus drew in a deep breath, obviously controlling his temper, before turning to her. “We need to find him.” 

“And what will we do once we find him?” 

“Bring him back here - he needs to stay with his family.” 

Minerva was already shaking her head as he continued speaking. “No. That’s ridiculous, Albus. I kept my own counsel when you put him here as a baby–because I trusted your reasons– but no longer,  these people are not the right people to be raising James and Lily’s baby. It would horrify Lily to see her son with these people. I won’t put up with it Albus. I won’t. Not again.” 

“You don’t understand. He needs to live here.” 

“Why?” She demanded.

“Don’t you trust me, Minerva?” 

She clenched her jaw as she stared into his secretive blue eyes. He was turning his keeping secrets into a show of loyalty from her and she was not about to put up with that this time.  Albus had been her friend for years.  They had fought alongside each other during the first war, but that didn’t mean he was infallible.  “I don’t know anymore Albus.” 

Albus reached out to grasp her shoulder, his hand tight and bracing. “We need to find him and bring him back to the Dursleys.” 

Albus waited for a moment as if waiting for her agreement, but she said nothing, staring up at him, and eventually, he turned away to stride back down the pavement. Minerva stood there for long moments, ignoring the Dursleys peeking angrily from their window at her. 

The muggle couple found out the Dursleys kept him under the stairs in a cupboard and were angry… 

Arabella’s words echoed in her mind, as she glanced again at the window where the Dursleys were still making faces at her.  Arabella had looked so ashamed as she said it, avoiding Minerva’s eyes as she told them what happened during the confrontation.  However, it was the lack of shock on Albus’s face that really put everything in the worst light.  Why was he so fixated that Harry had to remain with these people? And why did it have to be such a secret? 

Albus had known that the most famous wizard in Britain was being kept in a bloody closet under the stairs. It made her ill to think about it. She remembered Harry’s parents as her students so well. How young and happy they had been when Harry had been born.  How could she tarnish James and Lily’s memories by allowing their son to be treated so shabbily?

“I won’t help you bring him back.” She whispered to Albus even though he was gone. The Harry Potter was missing and maybe it was for the best he remained that way. 

1986 One week after Harry's disappearance

Minerva McGonagall’s robes snapped as she strode quickly behind two goblins as they led her among the maze of corridors behind Gringott's main banking floor. They weren’t going to a vault; they were going to see the high goblin, Ragnuk. 

The magical beings who had the most knowledge of muggles weren’t, in fact, witches or wizards, despite the presence of muggleborns and squibs in their society. Muggleborns were constantly struggling to adjust to wizarding society, and squibs were doing their best to not be muggles. Because of this, the beings with the greatest knowledge of the workings of the muggle world were actually goblins. There were goblins whose entire specialty was the muggle legal and financial systems. 

So if Minerva wanted Harry to stay missing, she needed to make sure the goblins were not going to help Albus find him. And she had a plan full of Gryffindor bravado and daring in which to accomplish that. 

The group of them entered a room at the very end of a long dark corridor that Minerva had never been in before. The room was larger than the banking floor and there must be some type of expansion charm or other area displacement charm at work because the ceiling of the room stretched almost five stories high. The awe-inspiring height of the ceiling was definitely necessary due to a nest of dragons sleepily rolling around about on the far side of the room. 

In the very center of the cavernous room was a high throne made of gold and embossed with gleaming gems.  The goblin sitting on that gaudy throne watched Minerva as closely as she watched him. The high goblin was dressed in bright silver armor threaded with gold, making him stand out from the normal bankers' dress of the goblins who had escorted her. 

“What does the right hand of Dumbledore want so urgently just before I am to meet the wizard himself? Ragnuk asked curiously, his black eyes boring into hers. 

Although it irked Minerva to be described as such — as merely the helper of someone else – she brushed it off and straightened her shoulders. “I want to negotiate a business deal.” 

Ragnuk waved his long sallow bony fingers in her direction, wordlessly urging her to continue. 

“Albus is going to ask for your help to locate a boy—a wizard — and I want you to not find him.” 

“What boy?” 

Minerva hesitated briefly, before admitting, “Harry Potter.” 

Ragnuk didn’t have any reaction, but she knew he recognized the name. “Why would the goblins refuse to assist Dumbledore?” A thin smile stretched across Ragnuk’s face. “He always manages to have the most interesting treasures to offer in return.” 

“I don’t want you to refuse. I want you to agree and then not find him.” 

Ragnuk laughed, harsh and grating. The dragons on the far side of the room, emitted rumbling noises and turned in their direction at the noise. Minerva tensed, but Ragnuk waved dismissively at the dragons as he continued to laugh. “Now — now I am surprised!” Rgnuk looked over at the goblins with her, saying something in the harsh rhythmic language of the goblins and they smiled back at him. “Why do you not want the boy found?” 

“It’s safer for him.” 

“Safer than the care of Albus Dumbledore?” 

Minerva paused again, torn. Albus seemed so determined to put Harry back with the Durlseys… Then she remembered again the way Arabella Figg had looked, how carefully she had chosen her words. What else had she been hiding and not wanting to say since Albus was not alone during their meeting? 

“Yes.” 

“What?” Ragnuk cupped his large ear, even though Minerva knew perfectly well he had heard her. 

“Yes. Safer than with Albus.” 

Ragnuk leaned back, tapping the edge of his chair. “What are you offering in payment?” 

This was the riskiest part of Minerva’s plan, but she kept her chin high as she reached confidently into her satchel. She felt the tip of the sorting hat and braced herself. 

I am the head of Gryffindor. Help me protect Harry Potter.  

Then Minerva McGonagall shoved her hand into the sorting hat. Relief rushed through her as her hand met metal and she grasped it tightly to pull out the gleaming silver blade of Godric Gryffindor. Thank Merlin, she thought, some of the tension leaving her as she held the heavy weight of the blade.  There was no way she could have taken the blade directly from the headmaster's office, but the sorting hat was a different story. 

Ragnuk jumped to his feet in outrage as soon as he saw the jeweled blade. “You dare bargain with stolen goods! That is not yours to pay with, witch!” 

“Don’t try that with me! You know as well as I that Ragnuk the First made it for the Hogwarts founder, Godric Gryffindor!!” Minerva said sharply, her hand tight on the handle of the blade as she held it outward, and pointed toward Ragnuk.  

Ragnuk sneered at her, his thin sharp teeth gleaming. “You are far more devious than I gave you credit for.” 

“Do we have a deal?” 

“You will give me the sword and relinquish your claim upon it. And the goblins will not find Harry Potter for Albus Dumbledore.” 

“You will not find Harry Potter for anyone.” 

“Heh.” Ragnuk gave a little smirk, not even bothering to hide the fact he would have been tickled to be able to find Harry Potter anyway. “The goblins will not find Harry Potter for anyone .”

Minerva looked down at the gleaming sword and then handed it over hilt first to Ragnuk, who took it reverently. He flicked his hand at her, not looking up from his inspection of the weapon. “Our business is thus concluded, witch.”  

Minerva shoved the sorting hat back into her satchel and spun around, leaving her escort to trail behind her. She didn’t feel bad at all about tricking the goblins into the deal—she knew they were always gleeful when they managed to sneak underhanded clauses into their own bargains. 

Minerva McGonagall might be head of the Gryffindor house–but she had no right to relinquish the sword– and in fact, she could not relinquish the sword. The sword was forever bound to Hogwarts and all students who learned magic under Godric Gryffindors’ sigil. The sword of Gryffindor would always answer the call of a true Gryffindor in need, just as it had done today. 

And so Ragnuk’s possession of the sword would always be temporary no matter what he did to bind it to him. 

Minerva thought of her tin of lemon biscuits in the desk of her office. Really, she definitely deserved one.

Chapter Text

Eight-year-old Harry rolled his favorite marble between his fingertips as he gazed outside the school bus on the way home from the primary. Richard Granger had given him a set of marbles, and the largest one had a tiny red dragon inside–and it immediately became Harry’s favorite thing. He hadn’t told anyone but Hermione, but he dreamed about becoming a dragon one day. 

Harry wanted to fly. To be powerful. To be able to protect his treasures. He glanced over at Hermione next to him. 

Hermione was reading her book, completely oblivious to her surroundings, although her leg remained firmly wedged against his as if making sure he didn’t move away while she was distracted. 

He wished he was in the same class as Hermione, but Mr. and Mrs. Granger said they needed to make friends other than each other and learn how to handle other children. However, even though Harry managed to keep (mostly) from doing strange things around the other kids, they still seemed to sense something was different with him and stayed away.  

Hermione told him the same thing happened to her–although a lot of hers was because she almost always knew the answer to everything and couldn’t resist answering a question even if you didn’t ask her specifically. Harry liked that about her, though. She never hid things from him or played those weird games other kids played where they pretended to be nice, but actually didn’t like you.  

Hermione was so honest she routinely managed to hurt other kids' feelings, even if that wasn’t her intention. Harry tried to help her sometimes, such as today when she lectured a girl in her class about getting a skinned knee during recess because she broke the rules for running. Harry could tell everyone was getting annoyed at Hermione, which he understood, but they didn’t understand she did it because she cared that the girl got hurt.  

Hermione’s hands had a little tremble as they turned the pages, the other kids had called her names today, and Harry knew even though she pretended it didn’t bother her that it had hurt her feelings. 

Harry looked at the marble he was twirling in his hand, imagining that he could see the edge of the teeth of the tiny dragon. If the Grangers let them use their powers, no one would be able to bully them again. But after moving and changing their last names the Grangers had told them it was absolutely vital that they remain unremarkable — and displaying powers was definitely too remarkable a feat for the unassuming Taylors. 

The school bus finally stopped and he and Hermione got up and made their way off, walking down a long winding country path toward the home the Grangers had purchased. However, before they could open the door, they heard the raised voice of Mrs. Granger. 

“Why do we have a cease and desist letter from Stephen King’s attorneys, Richard?!” 

Harry looked at Hermione would wide eyes, hesitating to open the door as they both instead pressed their ears against the door to listen. 

“How was I supposed to know he’s a scaredy cat? He writes bloody horror novels!”

“This is not what we agreed upon when we said we’d stay under the radar!” 

There was a pause, and they both pressed their ears even harder against the door. 

“...isn’t going away… stronger…need more information … Harry’s parents…” The words were muffled as Richard and Helen’s voices lowered. When Harry heard them mention his parents, a little zing of fear went through him. Would the Grangers put him out? No matter how many times they hugged him, no matter how many times Helen Granger affectionately ruffled his hair. Harry couldn’t help but brace himself for when they would finally realize what the Dursleys always knew.  

He was too troublesome to put up with, too strange and burdensome. 

“Harry.” Hermione stared at him, her brown eyes intense as she reached for his hand. He felt the buzz of her magic when she touched him. Harry always felt it when her skin touched his—the echo of a promise. No matter what, Hermione would be by his side, and honestly, that was enough.

Nine-year-old Harry looked around attentively as he held onto Mr. Granger’s left hand. Mr. Granger’s right hand was being held by Hermione as they dodged around the crush of people at Heathrow Airport. He had never been here before, and he could occasionally see from the large windows the planes taxing down the runway. 

Flying, Harry thought enviously. 

“Daddy, why are we here?”

“To go to a bookstore.” 

Hermione’s tone immediately brightened. “A bookstore? Can I have five books?” 

“Two.” 

“Four.” She negotiated back with her father. 

“What about Harry?” Mr. Granger asked. 

“I can read Hermione’s books, sir,” Harry responded, not wanting to get dragged into the middle of Hermione’s negotiation. 

Hermione leaned forward so she could see him on the other side of her father. “Maybe we can find one about Chinese dragons this time!” 

There was a crowd around the bookstore when they approached and large signs with the picture of a man with thick eyebrows and thick, dark black hair. 

As soon as Hermione saw the name on the billboard, she gasped. “Daddy! You know you’re not supposed to!” 

“I just have a few questions, firebug, that only he can answer.” 

“Mum says—” 

“Your mum said I couldn’t write him any letters, and I’m not,” Richard said righteously as he moved into the long line. “Nor am I going to America.” 

Hermione looked at her dad thoughtfully before nodding. “Okay.” 

Richard met Harry’s eyes and winked at him. “I guess four books then are okay, as long as Harry gets to pick out two.” 

As they moved in the line towards a book signing of one Mr. Stephen King, Harry observed Mr Granger put on his business face as Harry called it. When they arrived in front of the table Mr. King was sitting at, the writer looked at them expectantly, a small smile on his face that slowly faded as he took in Mr. Granger’s set face. 

“Oh, I don’t think this will be good.” Mr. King muttered under his breath, before saying louder,” Do you have a book for me to sign?” 

Richard leaned forward, placing his fists on the table. “I want to know about the people who invented Lot 6, and when did they bring it to England?” 

Mr. King stared at Richard for a moment before yelling, “Sven!” 

An unreasonably large Nordic man stepped out of the crowd his shirt and pants a bit undersized for his large muscly frame and looking like the seems might burst at any moment. Sven’s laser blue eyes zeroed in on Mr. Granger. 

“It’s a giant,” Hermione said in a low voice to Harry. 

“That was a dick move,” Richard told Mr. King before straightening up and backing away from the blonde giant. Sven reached out and grabbed Richard by the lapels, propelling him backward. 

“Hey!” Hermione yelled as her daddy was dragged about by the giant.

Harry grabbed the back of Hermione’s shirt when she tried to run at the man. Hermione was going to get squashed by them if she tried to intervene, and Mrs. Granger had said Hermione was not allowed to make things happen. Not that they could really control it when they got upset, Harry thought worriedly as he watched Hermione's face closely. 

Richard realized that unless he extracted himself quickly, his little firebug might get a bit hot under the collar.  He glanced about for a distraction and fortunately, spotted some Chelsea football fans loitering on the other side of the terminal and said loudly enough for them to hear. “How dare you say Chelsea fans are rent boys!” 

The unfortunate Sven, who maybe didn’t have English as a first language, repeated Richard slowly, not quite understanding, “Chelsea rent boy?” 

“What the bloody hell are you saying about the blues?” A loud, angry voice demanded from behind them. 

Richard smiled as Sven looked over and saw five men in blue shirts staring at him angrily. “This is not your business,” Sven responded in a heavily accented voice. 

“And see, that is where you’re wrong, mate.” With that, a free for all with entirely too much cussing began, enabling Richard to get free. 

Richard did, unfortunately, lose that slippery Mr. King in the ensuing madness. He was also obliged to assist his children in forgetting what happened with ice cream and too many books.

Summer 1991

It’s strange sometimes how one day can change your life, Harry thought, watching the bizarrely dressed trio of people from behind Mr. Granger’s chair. One day, you go from being hated and living in a tiny room under the stairs. And then you’re with a loving family and have an enormous room with too many toys for one person. 

Today apparently Harry was going to change from being an oddity to being a wizard. Although maybe wizards were still oddities, Harry thought as he inspected the older man whose blue eyes kept darting to him and examining him. 

“So it wasn’t a government plot.” Richard Granger said, sounding a bit disappointed. 

Helen reached over and patted his hand. “We can always blame the government for something else, honey. Although it is concerning that no one in this magical community reached out to me beforehand to let me know what was going on. It seems a bit of a disservice to non-magical parents.” 

Minerva met Albus’ eyes for a moment before she spoke. “There are certain laws that we have to abide by.” 

“Ah,” Richard interjected knowingly. “They have their own shoddy government, then, probably run by Tories.” 

Minerva’s lips twitched. 

Helen, after briefly glancing through the letters brought by the visitors for both her children, which contained an absurd supply list. A wand? A real wand? She shook her head as she handed the letters over to the kids to look at. Hermione grabbed hers eagerly while Harry seemed more hesitant and suspicious. “Also, I’m not sure where to get half the things on that list—” 

“That’s why we brought Hagrid here to help you,” Albus interjected. 

The giant—well, half-giant from the information provided by the witch and wizard who had explained the letters–waved a little bashfully. “Hello there. Yeh don' remember me Harry, but I had yeh when yeh jus a little tyke. I took yeh ter the Dursleys.”

“Well, that was stupid of you, wasn’t it?” Hermione’s high-pitched voice cut in. 

“Hermione!”

“Firebug!” 

Both her parents exclaimed in admonishment at her rudeness, but Hermione refused to be cowed. She was not going to be nice to someone who had taken her best friend to those rubbish people. She folded her arms across her chest and stuck her nose in the air, refusing to take back her statement despite the growing silence. 

Harry looked from Hermione’s stubborn face back to Rubeus Hagrid. The half-giant looked quite embarrassed, and Professor McGonagall was giving an “I told you so” expression to the Headmaster Dumbledore. Harry had a lot of experience with that expression because it was one of Hermione’s favorites. 

“So you know what happened to my parents then? The accident?” Harry questioned tentatively. 

“Accident?” McGonagall looked back to Harry. 

Harry nodded. “The Dursleys told me they died in a car crash, so you found me after the crash—” 

“A car crash!” Hagrid shouted. “Lily and James Potter die in a car crash! They were killed—” 

“Hagrid,” Albus said quietly, but the giant immediately shut his mouth. 

“Sorry,” Hagrid muttered sheepishly. “I should not have said that.”  

“What happened to Harry’s parents?” Richard Granger asked in a hard tone, the affable mien gone. 

Helen glanced back at the children before interjecting, “This really isn’t the best time, Richard—” 

“No. I want to know.” Harry insisted, meeting Richard Granger’s serious gaze. “I deserve to know.” 

Both McGonagall and Hagrid looked toward Dumbledore, who clasped his hands behind his back. “Your parents were killed while trying to protect you from a very misguided wizard. When that wizard attempted to kill you too, the spell backfired, and you survived.” 

‘Misguided?” Richard’s voice was cold. 

Dumbledore didn’t acknowledge the question his eyes fixed on Harry Potter. “Your mother died protecting you, Harry, and she wanted you to stay with what’s left of your family—the Dursleys.” 

“Albus—” Minerva began. 

Hermione cut her off, still with her arms crossed over her chest. “No, she didn’t!” 

“Hermione–” Harry began trying to calm her down. 

“Harry’s mummy loved him and wouldn’t have wanted him given cast-offs and kept under the stairs!” Hermione’s face was turning an alarming shade of red, her eyes glittering in anger. 

“Miss Granger, you are too young to understand the importance of—” Albus cut off abruptly as the wall behind Hermione burst into flames. 

“Richard!” Helen grabbed Hermione and Harry, yanking them away from the wall as Richard jumped up to reach for a fire extinguisher that had been discreetly placed behind the couch. The Grangers kept fire extinguishers everywhere since the incident when Hermione had been a baby. 

No one talked over the loud swooshing sound of the extinguisher. When it was out, Richard placed the extinguisher carefully on the floor with a metallic thump before turning to the visitors who were staring wide-eyed at them.

“While I am not going to set anything on fire–” Richard looked pointedly at Hermione. “I do agree with my daughter. No parent would have wanted their child with those people.” 

“There are certain things you don’t understand about Harry–” Albus began gently. 

“Excuse me.” Helen interrupted. “We have raised him for five years after those rubbish people threw him at us along with a bundle of ill-fitting clothes they said were his — we understand Harry much better than you do.” 

Albus looked toward Minerva for help with the intractable muggles, but she gave him a blank look and shrugged. Frustrated Albus tried to make them understand the risk of keeping Harry Potter. “You are making decisions about things you don’t understand that are ultimately making life much more dangerous for Harry and your daughter.” 

“Is that a threat?” Richard stepped toward Dumbledore. 

Minerva smoothly stepped in between the two men, “No, of course not. Right Albus?” 

“Of course.” 

“Harry is considered quite special to the wizarding world because of his history.” Minerva clarified. 

Richard scoffed but made no further remark. Harry looked at Richard, then at Albus Dumbledore. “Why am I special?” 

Minerva crossed her hands over her chest, bracing herself as she told Harry quietly. “There was a war in the wizarding world. Your parents fought a very evil wizard, but he managed to kill them, and then when he tried to kill you, the curse backfired somehow and killed him instead. No one knows why, or how, and no one has ever survived that curse before.” 

“Oh,” Harry said in a quiet voice, his gaze unfocused. Hermione stepped close to him, her hand finding his to thread her fingers through his tightly, keeping him grounded. 

There was a long pause before Minerva spoke again, “I know this is all very shocking, wizards, wars, and magic schools.” She looked at Richard and Helen, who both looked like they wanted to kick them out. “Your children are special, both of them. Magic is part of who they are and it will come out at inopportune times unless they learn the skills to manage it. I urge you to allow them to come to Hogwarts and be with other children who are like them—young witches and wizards—so they can learn about magic alongside them.” 

“We brought Hagrid to help you get your school supplies.” Albus gestured to Hagrid, who gave a tentative smile, still uncomfortable. 

Harry looked over at Hermione, seeing the interest in her eyes before she hid it when she noticed him looking. It annoyed him a little bit that she still treated him sometimes like he was fragile. He pulled his hand away from hers, answering, “I want to go to Hogwarts.” 

Albus Dumbledore smiled at him, “Of course you do.”

Chapter Text

Watch out for her Harry. If something happens send your owl to me, and I’ll come get you both. 

Harry held tightly to Hermione’s hand as he remembered Mr. Granger’s words from the night before. As fierce as Hermione could be, he knew she was soft about some things. She was too easily hurt by things stupid people said, even though she put on a brave face. 

He caught Mr. Grangers' eye and nodded to him as the train pulled away, reiterating his promise. Not that Mr. Granger needed to ask him, he would always watch out for her, no matter what. Unfortunately just as they found an empty compartment, a chubby little boy came by crying. 

“H-have you s-seen Trevor?” He asked in a woeful voice. 

How were they supposed to know a Trevor? “No,” Harry answered trying to tug Hermoine into the compartment and shut the door. 

“Do you need help finding him?” Hermione asked in her usual forthright manner and it was all Harry could do not to groan. They would lose the compartment if they helped the crying boy find Trevor. He sighed loudly and Hermione gave him an admonishing glance. 

“Well, I don’t want to be a bother…” The boy sniffled. “He was right in my hand! And then somehow he was gone!” He held out his hand as if to show them the fact Trevor wasn’t there. 

“Trevor was in your hand?” Hermione asked a wrinkle in her brow. 

The boy nodded vehemently. “Yes right in my hand! Then poof! He’s my toad you see.” 

“Oh.” Hermione glanced at Harry who shook his head. “Well. I’ll go help you and Harry will stay here and keep our seats.” 

“No, I can —” Harry began frowning, letting Hermione wander around with some crying boy without him wasn’t exactly how he envisioned their first train ride to the magical school go. 

“We won’t take long right…?” Hermione glanced at the boy prompting him for his name. 

The boy gave a watery smile and answered, “My name is Neville Longbottom and hopefully we find him quickly!” 

“See! So you stay here okay? I’ll be right back.” Hermoine pulled Neville along before shutting the sliding door almost in his frowning face. 

Annoyed Harry flopped down at the seat resting his chin on his hands as he waited moodily for her to return. He reached into his pocket to pull out his dragon marble rolling in between his fingers. The sun shining through the windows glinted on the dragon’s red wings. 

Harry took a deep breath before letting it go slowly letting go of his annoyance as he pictured soaring above the train as a dragon.  His tail would curl in the air as the wind whipped by, he would be even faster than this train. 

Harry’s eyes shot open when not a few minutes later the compartment door opened.  Hermione had been very efficient this time.  But it wasn’t her. A boy his own age peeked in, with bright red hair and blue eyes. 

“Oh hey! All the other compartments are full do you mind if I join you?” 

“Um I have some people I’m waiting on but there should be enough room.” 

“Oh thanks, mate!” The redhead answered cheerfully sitting down and pulling out a sandwich. “My name is Ron Weasley. Want some?” He offered Harry part of his slightly smushed sandwich. 

“No, I’m okay. Thank you though.  My name is Harry Potter.” 

“What!” Ron started choking on his sandwich bite.  Harry got up and tried to help, but ended up smacking him a bit too hard on his back sending him sprawling to the floor. “H-H-H” Ron gasped before spitting out a chunk of slightly chewed sandwich while Harry grimaced. “Harry Potter! Blimey!” 

Ron jumped up his eyes wide and put his face close to Harry’s, his attention focused on Harry’s bangs. “Do you have the um, “ Ron pointed to his own forehead. “Do you have the thing?” 

“Oh.” Harry pulled back a little, sitting down and pushing up his hair to reveal the scar on his forehead. “This?” 

“Merlin!” Ron gaped at him. “You’re Harry Potter!” 

Harry nodded uncomfortably wishing Hermione would return. Ron’s eyes looked a bit too excited and shiny for him. Just then the compartment door opened for a second time and Harry breathed a sigh of relief turning to the door. 

Only to be disappointed again. Framed in the doorway was a skinny unnaturally pale boy flanked by two bigger boys like bodyguards. “I came to see for myself if the rumors were true.” He said in a posh accent. “Are you really Harry Potter?” 

Harry glanced at Ron and saw him making a face. “Yeah. What of it?” 

“Maybe you don’t know but there are some wizards that are better than others.” The boy sneered at Ron. “My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy and I can help you find the right kind.” The boy stuck out his hand. 

Was this git for real? Before Harry could speak though Ron spoke up first. “You mean show him all the rubbish ones.” 

Malfoy’s grey eyes flicked over to Ron, “Red hair and hand me down robes? Must be another Weasley. Amazed your mother’s still alive after popping out you all out like weasels.” 

“That was really rude.” A loud bossy voice said from where Harry couldn’t see and he almost heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, she was back. 

Malfoy finally dropped his hand in aggravation, glancing to his left. “No one asked you beaver face!” 

Harry didn’t remember moving but the next thing he knew his fist met that pointy face.  It was actually a bony pointy face he decided as he shook his hand standing over a groaning Malfoy. 

“Harry! That was not necessary!” Hermione scolded but Harry could see her face was red.  She was sensitive about her teeth.  

Harry shrugged, still shaking his hand. He looked at the two goons who stood there wide-eyed while Malfoy still groaned on the floor. “Uh. You can take him away now.” He waved a little bit to get them to move on so Hermione could move past them. 

Ron chortled gleefully as Malfoy was dragged away by the two goons who had been silent the entire time.  Hermione came in with an annoyed expression. “Violence is not funny.” 

“Yeah, it was,” Ron told her annoyed. 

Harry looked at Ron not liking his tone. “Sorry.” He muttered to Hermione. 

Hermione came and sat next to him, while Neville went and sat to the side of Ron. She reached out and grabbed his hand inspecting it. “That boy's face hurt your hand.” She grumbled to him reaching to her side to pull out her wand. “Episkey.” 

“Thanks.” Harry flexed his hand as a rush of warmth made the stinging disappear. Hermione had been practicing minor spells since they got their books. She was fairly good at it now. 

“I can do some spells too!” Ron said loudly and the three of them looked at him. He cleared his throat and pulled out his wand, and a very fat rat from his pocket. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!” There was a snap, and a puff of smoke, and the rat let out a little squeal, but it did not change colors. 

Hermione made a face. “I don’t think that’s a real spell. All the spells in the book have mostly Latin roots.” 

Ron rolled his eyes. “How do you know did you read the whole book?” 

“Yes.” 

“Liar.” Ron made a disbelieving face. 

Harry mentally crossed Ron off the list of potential friends. So far he’d met a crying boy, a stupid boy, a rude boy, and two goons.  Hopefully, he didn’t have too many classes with them. 

Narrator note: He would be disappointed yet again. 

Since they had come to Hogwarts, Hermione had been like an inquisitive cat, determined to explore everything, know everything. And she wanted to know it yesterday. When they walked together she was always chattering nonstop about everything she had learned, even if Harry had been sitting right next to her learning it too. 

It might have annoyed other people, but Harry knew Hermione wanted to tell him because he was special to her. He was her best friend. It was kind of cute in a way. Her eyes sparkled and if possible her hair became bushier - like a cat! 

When her voice cut off unexpectedly, he looked over at her to see what was wrong, but she was staring straight ahead in the corridor before her gaze dropped to her feet. When he looked up and met the peeved blue eyes of Ronald Weasley staring at Hermione, he knew something had happened. 

Ron hadn’t seemed a bad sort at first when Harry had gotten into a compartment on the train to wait for Hermione. She had been determined to help some boy who had been crying in the corner. It had kind of annoyed Harry, both because he wanted to explore the train with her and because the boy’s sobbing had been quite pitiful. Hermione had taken one look at Harry’s face and told him to go on to find their seats while she helped the boy. 

Really, she was too nice sometimes. He told her she had to be meaner or bad people would take advantage of her. She didn’t seem to believe him, though. Harry had decided that was okay. He would just have to make sure she stayed safe. Just like she made sure he stayed safe. 

Almost immediately after Hermione had arrived at their compartment that day, Ron had acted annoyed with her. Her bossiness and intelligence just seemed to nettle Ron. Harry’s opinion had flipped without pause. Ron had gone from a potential friend to someone with extremely bad judgment.  

Harry grabbed Hermione’s elbow, stopping her from walking. “What did he say now?” 

Hermione didn’t pretend to not know what he was talking about. “Nothing.” 

“You know you can’t fib worth anything.” 

“I can too!” 

He rolled his eyes. “Tell me or I will go ask Ron.” 

“No! Don’t! It will just make things worse–” But Hermione was talking to the air as Harry stomped toward the ginger-haired boy. 

The air seemed to crackle with some force that drew everyone's attention as Harry approached Ron. “What did you say to Hermione?” 

“I didn’t say anything to her!” Ron glared over Harry’s shoulder. “What did she say that I said? She’s lying!” 

Harry shoved him. “Don’t call her a liar!” He ignored the fact that he had just called her out on her fibbing. That was different. 

Ron stumbled back a step before straightening and shoving Harry back harder. The crowd was already ringed around them and Harry could hear Hermione shouting for idiots to get out of her way. “I didn’t say nothing to your sister!” 

That sentence particularly infuriated Harry. “She’s not my sister!” He roared, and his voice seemed to echo down the hallway and doors opened at the commotion. 

He jumped on Ron to start pummeling him, and they fell to the floor with their fists flying.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin!” A disagreeably snide voice remarked. “Of course, it would be you two lackwits!” Snape shoved aside the dimwitted students in his way to make his way toward the two wrestling like monkeys. Couldn’t that useless hack Dumbledore hired even keep order outside his classroom? “Quirrell, your assistance, if you please.” 

Harry and Ron completely ignored everything else as they both did their best to knock the stuffing out of each other. Even when a large thin hand grasped the collars of their robes, they tried to keep on. 

“Y-y-yes?” Quirrell appeared a few feet from where Snape struggled to keep Ron and Harry away from each other, his hands wringing uselessly as usual. 

Deciding he wanted to deal with Potter less, Snape shoved Potter in Quirrell's direction so he could raise the Weasley child higher and hopefully shake some sense into him. Snape opened his mouth just about to rip Weasley a new one when Quirrell's screaming distracted him. 

Potter had smashed into Quirrell, and the ineffectual professor and fallen to the ground with Potter on top of him.  

Dropping Weasley on the floor, Snape went to go help Quirrell muttering to himself, but he froze when he saw smoke rising from between Potter and Quirrell. Pandemonium broke out as both Potter and Quirrell started screaming. 

“Harry!” Hermione yelled as she finally broke through because the crowd was stumbling over themselves to run away. Professor Snape backed up a step, not seeing Hermione behind him. Snape stumbled over her, falling on his arse as she rushed past him towards the screaming and smoke. 

I swear no one is taking Harry away from me.

Hermione’s words from five years ago seemed to echo around her and her magic burned along her arms with a warning. 

Something. 

Someone. 

Was trying to take Harry away from her!

Harry’s hands seemed to be stuck to Quirrell's face as they both screamed, and Quirrell's screams echoed strangely as if he had two voices instead of one. Hermione grabbed Harry’s robe, yanking with all her might, trying to pull him away from their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. 

Hands reached next to her, and she looked over expecting to see Snape, but instead, they were the small hands of Ronald Weasley. “Help us!’ He screamed toward the crowd running away and Snape on the floor. 

Another pair of small hands rushed forward. Neville. Where was Snape? Hermione looked around wildly and spotted Snape still on the floor behind her, his mouth open and his eyes glazed with fear as he stared at Quirrell. 

As Quirrell had screamed and shaken his head wildly, his turban had come loose, revealing that he had another face on the back of his head. A face with glowing malevolent red eyes and a mouth of sharp teeth screaming. 

Both Harry and Quirrell grew paler, their voices hoarse as the screaming continued. Golden threads of magic had appeared on Hermione’s arm. The golden strands were heating and tightening, making it difficult to keep pulling.

No, no, no! She chanted in her mind. No! Quirrell's hand flailed and hit Neville, knocking him into her, and his wand poked her from his pocket. 

Her wand! She had panicked so much she had forgotten her wand! She let go of Harry and yanked out her wand, screaming,” Flipendo!” 

Blue magic rushed out at Quirrell, yanking him out from under them and smashing him into the wall ten feet away. Harry collapsed on the floor. Hermione rushed to him, tears streaming down her face. “Harry? Harry!” 

He was breathing, but he wouldn’t open his eyes. 

“He’ll be okay Hermione, we should get him to Madam Pomfrey.” Neville patted her shoulder comfortingly. 

“Severus.” hissed a hoarse, pain-filled voice. “Come closer Severus, this body is dying.” 

Snape’s face was twisted in horror as he scrambled across the floor, further away from the body of Quirrell, hunched against the wall. A green mist started to rise from the body, a horrific almost ghostly form of the malevolent face that had been screaming before. 

The green mist seemed disorientated at first, but it turned and seemed to spy them down the corridor. Then it rushed forward with a roar of wind. Snape started screaming and aggressive fire sprung up around Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Neville almost as if it was a barrier to protect them. 

However, before anything else could happen, a no-nonsense voice cut through the drama. 

“Protego horribilis!” A blue glow expanded outward, smashing into the green mist and propelling towards the window at the far end of the corridor. It hit the window with a loud crack and the glass shattered to pieces as the protection spell ejected the entity violently. “Severus, get off your bum, please.” 

It was only the tension in her jaw that betrayed she was uneasy as Minerva McGonagall set about putting things in order. With a wave of her wand, she put out the fire around a group of her children, noting Hermione Granger’s determined face. 

“Fire won’t work on incorporeal beings, Miss Granger.” 

“Yes, professor.” 

“I’ll give you a book with some more helpful spells, hmm?”

“Thank you, professor.” 

Hermione looked down at Harry in her lap and brushed a tangled lock of hair away from his forehead. “Thanks.” She said quietly to her two classmates with her. 

“We’re Gryffindors, right?” Ron said, shrugging. 

“Yeah,” Neville said, grasping Harry’s arm to put it over his shoulder so they could take him to Madam Pomphrey’s. 

Harry woke up groggily after nightmares of turbans and evil red eyes set to a soundtrack of screaming. From Hermione… and another woman whose voice he didn’t recognize yet made his heart clench. 

He sat up quickly with a groan, clutching his head. “Hermione.” 

“I’m here!’ Her hands reached for him and slipped his glasses onto his face as he blinked at her a little disorientated. 

Harry grabbed her hands. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

Then he noticed that both Ron and Neville were there. He glared at Ron. “What’s he doing here?” 

“Er. Well. I. Uh.” Ron turned as red as his hair as he fumbled for a reply. 

“He helped me save you.” 

“I could have handled it,” Harry muttered irritated. 

“Everyone ran away. Even the professor.” Hermione told him still a little bewildered and shocked. “Only Ron and Neville came and helped.” 

Harry tightened his hands on hers. She still believed too much in doing what was right. “I guess I can’t kick his arse then?” 

“Hey!” Ron yelped. 

“Maybe only on Sundays and the occasional Wednesday as needed to straighten him out,” Hermione replied thoughtfully and they all started laughing. Except for one Ronald Weasley.

Chapter Text

As soon as Harry and Hermione got to platform nine and three quarters for the start of their second year Neville and Ron ran up to them.  After the incident with Quirrell in first year they had all grown a bit closer together. 

Harry had been disappointed Hermione was only joking about allowing him to kick Ron’s arse occasionally but she told him if Ron stepped out of line she would consider it.  Considering Hermione abhorred violence Harry figured that was as good as he was going to get. 

They were all talking and laughing and catching up on what they had spent the summer doing.  Hermione had spent hers studying of course.  Harry had studied with her occasionally, but otherwise, he’d drag Hermione along on walks through the countryside.  

Sometimes he found snakes that whispered to him during those long walks. He would perhaps have never realized he could understand snakes if the Grangers hadn’t moved to the country when they decided to hide.  It was a curious ability, one that Hermione didn’t have much to her consternation. But it wasn’t so surprising now, considering they were now a witch and wizard respectively.   

Mrs. Granger had told him snakes were to stay outside, so the only time he could really practice trying to hear them was when he went on walks with Hermione. So since they were not allowed to do magic outside of school Harry spent a lot of time wandering the countryside with Hermione trying to encounter different snakes, while Hermione tried to memorize her school books. 

Neville was giving an overly descriptive explanation of his grandmother’s gardens when Harry became aware of the feeling of being watched.  “Some of the plants are rarer of course, but mostly she wants them for looks and not potion making so that limits what varieties she lets me grow, but recently I talked with the head gardener about looking into some more exotic species.” 

“That’s nice, mate,” Ron said sounding bored. 

Hermione looked thoughtful. “I know we can’t do magic, but I didn’t think about potion making maybe I should have been practicing that during summer.” 

“Or! Or! We could do what summer is meant for and have fun?” Ron asked in a tone of surprise. 

Harry punched Ron on the arm as he glanced around looking for the source of the feeling. As all the other students shuffled around them and Harry spotted light brown eyes fixed on him.  The girl had bright red hair and stood next to Ron’s mum. 

Harry nodded in her direction as acknowledgment, and the girl turned bright red and hid behind her mum. Hermione noticed his gesture and raised her eyebrows. Harry nodded in the direction of the girl. “Some girl was staring at me. She’s hiding behind Ron’s mum now.” 

“Ugh.” Ron grimaced. “Sorry. She’s my little sister. She kind of has a crush on you.” 

Weird, Harry thought. She didn’t even know him. “Why?” 

“Because you’re the boy who lived,” Hermione answered him in a sotto voice. 

Harry poked her in her side where she was ticklish and she laughed. “Stop saying those words.” 

“Yeah. Pretty much that’s why.” Ron agreed, waving his hand for his sister to come over. “She starts this year. Her name is Ginny. Ginny, come here!” 

The girl’s face was almost as red as her hair as she came when Ron called, her face downturned. “Hi, Harry.” She mumbled in the tiniest voice. 

Harry looked at the three of them standing there smirking at him. Even Neville! That was the last time he looked for the perpetually lost Trevor.  He cast a glare at Hermione while he stood awkwardly next to Ginny Weasley’s worshipful face. “Hi.” 

Ginny let out a squeak before she ran towards the train entrance. 

Hermione gazed thoughtfully after her.  “I think you just made her year.” 

“You!” Harry reached for her ticklish sides. 

Hermione burst into giggles at the first brush of his fingers. “No! Stop! We have to get on the train!” 

Neville and Ron met eyes and they shook their heads, heading to go scout out a compartment while Harry chased a giggling Hermione. 

4th year First Task

Hermione was wrapped around him like a devil's snare and Harry waited patiently for her to calm herself, patting her back. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.” 

“No. You shouldn’t do this, you need to just refuse!” 

“I’m just going to see the dragon a little bit closer and then I promise if it's too dangerous I’ll forfeit.” 

Hermione pulled back to look at him with tears in her eyes. “You promise not to get hurt?” 

“I promise.”

She searched his eyes as she sniffled a little bit before nodding and pulling back. “I’m holding you to that Harry.” 

He nodded as she watched him for another long minute before finally leaving the tent to go back to the spectators.  He reached into his pocket, his fingers meeting the cool feeling of the marble in his pocket.  Harry couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through him at the thought of seeing a real dragon. 

It was noisy and the spectators were roaring outside, but when he closed his eyes breathing deeply, it was like he could see the scales in his mind’s eye.  Each one builds upon the other to make an almost impenetrable armor over the dragon's entire body. The claws and teeth are razor sharp to protect and defend treasures. 

The tent flapped opened abruptly as Ludo Bagman, one of the Triwizard judges, came in with a big smile. “It’s time Harry! Got your strategy down?” 

“Yes,” Harry answered confidently, Hermione had drilled plan after plan into him once they had found out the first task was dragons. 

“Excellent! Excellent! Come on then!” Bagman gestured him out and Harry followed him as he led him to the front of the arena.  The other competitors were there looking nervous while the crowd screamed as the announcer introduced him, but all Harry could focus on for the moment was the Hungarian Horntail glaring at him as if it already knew Harry was going to do something it wouldn’t like. 

The dragon’s gleaming black scales glittered in the sun while smoke rings emitted from his nostrils. Harry walked slowly toward the dragon as it crouched over the eggs piled beneath it. The dragon growled and Harry stopped watching it. The dragon crouched lower over its eggs, its upper lip pulling back to reveal its huge razor-sharp teeth. 

The intelligent yellow eyes were fixed unblinkingly on him as he stood there still not moving. Harry put his hands in his pockets again, reaching for his marble. After a minute, when the dragon’s lip lowered covering its teeth again, he took another step forward, not taking his hands out of his pockets. 

The dragon twitched, smoke still emitting from its nostrils. A low rumbling growl came from its belly that sounded almost questioning, and not threatening. His hand tightly clenched around the marble, Harry hoped he wasn’t about to break his first promise to Hermione as he took another step forward. 

The dragon’s head cocked to the side curiously as it watched him with gleaming yellow eyes. Harry had read Horntails were the most aggressive breed. He lowered his eyes, keeping the dragon in sight but took another step forward.  This time the dragon’s neck stretched forward, its mouth coming dangerously close as the crowd started screaming in anticipation. 

But the horntail huffed as it sniffed him, hot air rushing over him. A low rumbling noise vibrated through Harry as the dragon nosed him, smoke wafting through his Triwizard uniform. Abruptly the dragon drew back and Harry tensed preparing to get the hell out, but just as quickly the dragon’s head lowered again and pushed Harry even closer to where the eggs lay. 

Again and again, the dragon nosed Harry until he stood in the little nest with the eggs.  Then the dragon curled around Harry and the eggs protectively, blocking the crowd from view. Harry reached out and ran his hand along the hard scales, despite how hard they were, they were smooth and hot. The dragon rumbled soothingly as Harry started sweating from the heat of the dragon’s nest. He carefully lifted the golden egg tucking it under his arm. 

Harry stood there for a moment, not quite sure what to do, but shrugging decided to try to walk out. He ducked under the dragon's head while the horntail glared at the astonished crowd. However, he had only gotten a few steps before the dragon snatched the back of his shirt in its teeth and deposited him once again gently amongst the eggs. 

“Erm. Mrs. Dragon.” Harry had been told they were female dragons as they were the more dangerous of the species. “I am not actually one of your eggs.” He attempted to walk out again, but once again the dragon caught his shirt and deposited him amongst the other eggs. 

The crowd had quieted as they watched the astonishing spectacle a few scattered laughs breaking out when Harry was placed for the second time amongst the eggs. Harry stood there for a moment not sure what to do as most of the plans involved him running for his life while being threatened by dragon fire, not being trapped amongst the dragon eggs. 

Did he look like an egg to the dragon? That was quite peculiar. The dragon’s wings flared briefly before settling back on its back and Harry grinned. “Accio broom!” 

After a minute the broom flew into his hand, and he quickly hid it behind his back as the dragon snapped its attention back to him, pushing his nose against Harry’s head and sniffing him. “I really am sorry, girl, but I can’t stay with your eggs.” He told the dragon quietly as it finished sniffing him and turned back to glare at the crowd. 

Quickly and stealthily he climbed on his broom, kicking off to fly beyond the lines of the arena with the golden egg. As soon as he crossed the marked line and the crowd cheered the dragon looked back to its pile of eggs and roared looking desperately around. 

People rushed to him but Hermione was there first, throwing her arms around him muttering threats, and thanking god he was safe.  But Harry couldn’t look away from the dragon, who was struggling against the chain that bound her, roaring in anger. 

“You were right.” He told Hermione, probably too low for her to hear. “I should have forfeited.” 

“I’m always right,” Hermione muttered into his chest, not able to make herself let go, even when that horrid Skeeter woman snapped photo after photo. 

Chapter Text

Summer before Fifth Year

Fifteen-year-old Harry James Potter sat with his shoulders back, staring at the man who had raised him since he was six years old. Richard Granger had changed very little from how Harry remembered him as a child - maybe he didn't look quite as large or broad-shouldered, but his hair now had a distinguished dusting of grey at the temples. 

Richard wore grey slacks and a button-up yellow shirt looking like the professional working man he was–although since Harry knew him better than that, he knew the slight bulge in his suit jacket was a handgun Richard wore at all times.  

Mr. Granger, having learned what had happened to Harry’s parents, was determined that the same thing would not happen to their little family — even though Harry thought privately Mr Granger overestimated how useful a gun would be in a magic fight. 

“Sir,” Harry said cautiously, taking in the serious face Mr. Granger presented. 

Richard grinned briefly at the young man in front of him. Even after so many years, Harry had trouble letting go of the barriers of formality—with him and his wife. Harry didn’t seem to have any of those same cautions when it came to Hermione. “One day I’ll get you to call me dad, Harry.” 

Harry’s bright green eyes met his for a moment before he looked away, and Richard could see the refusal still on his face. 

Harry rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I couldn’t do that, sir.” 

“Why not?” 

Harry looked back at Mr. Granger after straightening up again, throwing his shoulders back as he stated firmly, “Because I don’t feel at all brotherly to Hermione.” 

The father in Richard didn’t particularly like that statement - even though he honestly loved Harry like a son.  Hermione was his baby girl – and despite how incredibly gifted she was in some areas — Harry was a huge blind spot for her. “I’ve never asked you for anything, Harry, but I’m going to ask you now.” 

Harry’s jaw clenched as he braced himself. There wasn’t much he wouldn't do for the Grangers, but —

“Promise me that you won’t make the first move—if your relationship with her is going to happen — let Hermione make that choice without you influencing her.” 

Harry sunk in his chair a bit. “You think she doesn’t like me back like that?” 

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise,” Harry muttered. 

Richard patted Harry on the knee as he stood up, his jacket falling into straight lines, hiding the bulge of his weapon. “I think my daughter might actually be more stubborn than her mother and she has a plan for you that she made when she was six and it hasn’t changed. And you know what my firebug wasn’t thinking about when she was six years old?” Richard Granger smiled brightly and pointed at Harry. “Boyfriends!”

The corridor was empty, but for Harry and Hermione; it was almost curfew and all the other students were in their house rooms. No one wanted to risk being caught out with that crazy witch Umbridge running Hogwarts. And Umbridge was very much on Hermione’s mind as she held Harry’s hand inspecting the scarring he had hidden from her. 

I must not tell lies . 

“Why–” Her voice broke, and she inhaled a quick breath. “Why? Harry, what were you thinking letting her do this to you–” 

Harry yanked his hand from her. “Stop getting upset. This doesn’t involve you.” 

“Doesn’t involve me?” Her voice was a strangled whisper.  She couldn’t decide if she wanted to scream or cry. 

“I’m- I’m–”

“You’re letting her torture you! For no reason!” 

Fire flashed in his gaze, and Hermione could swear smoke came from his flared nostrils. “She wants to make me ask for help.” 

“You stubborn– stubborn – STUPID LITTLE BOY!” Hermione finally screamed at him. 

Red scales rippled across Harry’s face before disappearing back under his skin as he stepped forward and despite herself, Hermione stepped back. Harry didn’t stop until he had backed her into the wall of the corridor. He was so close to her that he could feel the puffs of her warm breath against his skin, but he didn’t touch her. 

He looked down at her as she glared up at him, fierce and fiery. “Stubborn yeah.” He agreed. 

Hermione leaned back against the wall shaking her head at him. She reached out cupping his cheek. “What would you do if it was me? If someone was carving into my skin?” 

“No one would get close enough to you to try,” Harry promised cockily. 

“And yet you don’t think I want to protect you too? You don’t need to ask for help, Harry. You just have to tell me.” 

“I’m handling it.” 

“Oh, is that what you call daily torture sessions?” Hermione asked sarcastically. 

“Eh. Getting stuck mid-transformation was much more painful.” 

Hermione shoved him back, stomping away from him and muttering under her breath.  Harry followed her, “Where are you going?” 

“To set Umbridge on fire.” 

“Why?” 

“Argh!” Hermione stopped and fisted her hands in her hair briefly before turning around and facing him. Her finger poked him in the chest hard, propelling him back towards the wall and she stepped forward, their positions reversed from just moments ago. “Because I love you, you idiot.” 

Harry’s face was impassive as he gazed down at her, not moving. “Like a brother?” 

“No,” Hermione said snidely. “Incest is not something I’m interested in. We are not related, as you so helpfully screamed at Ron that one time.” 

Harry’s brow knit as he tried to figure out what exactly she meant. “So you love me...like?” 

“My best friend.” 

“Oh.” Harry deflated and Hermione cocked her head curiously at him. 

“Don’t you love me too?” She asked even though she had never doubted he cared for her.  

“Yeah.” 

“What do you love me like then?” 

Hermione could feel the leap of his heart under her finger that still rested on his chest. She was only able to keep Harry pinned because he would never shove her away. Harry shook his head avoiding looking at her. 

She stepped even closer and their robes were squished between them, and she could see his pulse pounding as he swallowed hard, still avoiding her eyes. “Harry.” She whispered. “Look at me.” 

Her plea irresistibly drew Harry’s eyes to her. He hadn’t been this close to her in a while, and he could feel the heat of her skin through her robes. Hermione had always been hot-blooded…just like him.  

She leaned up closer on her tiptoes, and his breath caught. “How do you love me, Harry?” 

The words caught in his throat, remembering his promise to Mr. Granger. He couldn’t be the one to tell her first. But he didn’t have to. 

Hermione pressed her lips softly to his, whispering against his mouth. “Is it like this?”

Harry’s hands dug into the brick wall behind him as he struggled to keep his emotions and animagus in check. He still accidentally transformed if he became too agitated… or excited. “I don’t think this is how best mates love each other.” 

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands in his hair. “It’s how I love you.” And she pressed her lips more firmly to his. 

The kiss lasted about three seconds before Hermione was pushed back abruptly. She had closed her eyes as she pressed her lips to Harry's but the thunderous crash and movement made them fly open. 

In front of her with an incongruously bashful expression stood a gargantuan Liondragon, whose rear end and tail had smashed the school wall outward. Red scales covered his top half, while his underbelly was covered with golden scales. His curved wings arched high above his head, scraping against the ceiling even though he was crouched down low. 

“Huh,” Hermione said, staring into the dragon’s gleaming emerald eyes. “I guess you love me that way, too.” 

Both she and the dragon turned as they heard yelling coming down the hallway. “It sounds like Umbridge,” Hermione told Harry with satisfaction, stepping forward. 

Chapter Text

Both she and the dragon turned as they heard yelling coming down the hallway. “It sounds like Umbridge,” Hermione told Harry with satisfaction, stepping forward. 

Hermione could hear the scrambling as Harry tried to transform back as she stormed off, but she didn’t wait. Harry was always trying to protect her whether she wanted it or not.  Didn’t he realize she could protect him too? Hadn’t she done enough for him to show the lengths she was willing to go? 

Hermione turned the corner and saw that Umbridge was hustling down the corridor, still made up as disgustingly pink as ever.  Umbridge’s beady eyes widened and a sneer twisted her features. “Miss Granger. It’s against the rules to be out right now.” 

Hermione didn’t stop moving toward Umbridge, her wand in her hand. Umbridge saw Hermione's wand clenched tightly in her fist and if anything the satisfaction increased in Umbridge's face. “You are leaving me no choice, Miss Granger if you can’t behave.” Umbridge’s wand hand raised. 

“Expelliarmus!” Hermione shouted and the spell rushed at the witch. 

Umbridge’s arm darted to the side as she blocked the spell her eyes widening and bulging. “You dare to cast against your professor!” She raised her wand. “In my day children knew their place! Just like you’ll learn yours! Crucio!” 

Hermione darted to the side and the spell slid past her while a dragon roared close by. “Flipendo!” The spell slammed into Umbridge at an angle and she crashed through a door into a dark classroom. 

Umbridge screamed as the wood splintered and she slammed into the desks and chairs. “You disgusting little girl! Filthy little mudblood! I’ll teach you! I’ll teach you how to behave!” She screamed shrilly as she scrambled to her feet her hair askew. 

Hermione ran to the doorway of the classroom framed by the dim light of the corridor behind her, she could hear scrapes and thuds as Dragon Harry tried to free himself from the wall. She stepped into the classroom and pointed her wand at the door. “Colloportus.” She locked the door magically then layered on a few more spells so that even Harry would have trouble getting through immediately. He had been handling Umbridge and now it was her turn. 

The only light in the room was the moon and stars shining through the large windows in the dark classroom as the two witches faced off. The darkness of the room stripped even the pretense of humanity from Umbridge’s face, the shadows darkened the grooves of her face until she looked like an evil creature from the dark forest. 

Hermione stood in a pool of moonlight, her eyes dark and intent. Her anger over the scars on Harry’s hand was too intense to let the fear of the situation get to her. 

“Diffindo! Imperio!” Umbridge’s wand slashed through the air impossibly fast as the spells sped toward Hermione. 

Hermione’s protego blocked the first, but the second sliced through the shield charm and slammed into her. Umbridge smirked, she lifted her hand and conjured a knife from thin air that hovered above her palm.   The knife spun in the air before Umbridge directed it at Hermione. Under the influence of the imperio Hermione caught the knife, her wand dropping from her hand. “You obviously need the same lesson as your little friend, Mr. Potter. I'll teach it to you, too!” Umbridge gave a macabre giggle. “Now, Miss Granger. Let’s do lines.” 

The impulse to cut into her arm clutched at Hermione. The high-pitched girlish voice of Umbridge whispered through Hermione's mind echoing and echoing until it was all she could hear. 

I must learn my place. 

Anger raged through Hermione at the overwhelming whisper, fiery and hot. 

I must learn my place. 

The door between them thudded and Harry was screaming at her to let him in. 

I must learn my place. 

Hermione took the knife and pressed it against her skin, the blade sinking in and blood welling. She drew the blade downward, crossing her lines as she carved into her own skin. 

Umbridge giggled again and approached the young girl standing in the moonlight carving her lesson into her own arm. “You’ll learn to listen to me now, little girl.” She came closer to inspect the words, ignoring the yelling at the door and the way the wood was starting to splinter. Whoever was pounding through the spell the girl cast was quite powerful. 

Umbridge maybe should have made a correlation here, if the person attacking the door was quite powerful and could not get through the locking charms and wards the girl in front of her had layered, maybe that girl wouldn’t be as susceptible to the imperious curse. However, Umbridge didn’t consider this until she saw that the girl wasn’t carving in the line she had given her.  Instead, runes were being patterned down her forearm, the blood sparking as it dripped down her body. 

“What is this? What—” Umbridge’s next words were cut off as she flew upwards slamming head-first into the ceiling. Umbridge's wand dropped from her hand just as Hermione’s wand flew into her own hand. 

The blood runes gleamed wetly. A dark sacrifice for a power boost. Umbridge dropped to the ground dazed and Hermione walked up to her picking up Umbridge's wand and snapping it. 

“I know my place,” Hermione told Umbridge evenly ignoring the throb of her arm as it fed her magic pushing it higher. A scrambling noise inside the room drew Hermione's attention and she looked toward the corner where a closed closet stood. The closet shook as the rumble sounded again and a small vindictive smile curved Hermione’s lips. A wave of her wand opened the closet and she threw Umbridge in there before locking it as tightly as she could. 

The small power boost was already fading as the blood loss made her weaker. She sank down onto her knees as she waved her wand at the door to release the locking charms.  Harry rushed into the room his green eyes practically glowing. 

“What the bloody hell do you— oh Jesus, Hermione!” He knelt down next to her reaching for her arm. “What did she do to you? I’ll kill her!” 

Hermione was about to respond but a strange little girl's voice came from the locked closet. The voice sounded about six years old. 

“Lori, you shouldn’t be here so close to the moon!” 

Umbridge screamed. “No, get away from me! No!” 

“I’m sorry, Lori.” 

“Nooooo!” 

The closet rocked as Umbridge tried to escape, her screaming reaching a fever pitch. Harry stared at the closet for a minute, listening to Umbridge screaming interspersed with vicious growls. Then he picked up his wand to cast a silencing charm and looked back at Hermione. “A boggart?” 

Hermione hummed in agreement as Harry started to cast small pain relief charms at her cuts and helped her stand up again. As soon as they stepped from the classroom, Filch was upon them. “What are you children–” 

“Confundo!” Harry said, not even bothering to pay attention. 

Filch paused. “What?” 

“Umbridge wanted you to check the dungeons. There may be some rulebreakers down there.” Harry told him impatiently wanting to get Hermione to the dorms so he could put Dittany on her. 

“Oh! Yes. Bloody children.” Filch muttered stomping away from them. 

Hermione giggled despite the pain of the cuts. 

“I can’t believe you locked me out and got yourself cut.” Harry kept one hand holding her wrist out so her forearm wasn’t jarred while the other wrapped around her waist like she was going to collapse at any moment. 

She wasn’t. But it felt nice so she didn’t say anything about that, instead, she took him to task for his double standard. “Oh like you asked me for help when she was making you cut yourself?” 

“That’s not the same.” 

“It’s exactly the same, Harry James Potter!”

It annoyed Harry that she didn’t understand it wasn’t the same. She shouldn’t be getting injured. He didn’t want to argue with her though so he changed the subject instead. “How long do you think before someone finds Umbridge in there?” 

Hermione shrugged, her eyes dark and sharp. Harry liked that expression on her. Dangerous. Powerful. He thought it was funny sometimes the way people didn’t seem to realize how ruthless Hermione could be when provoked. Heat slid through him as he walked with her, his skin tingling where it touched hers, and suddenly, aggravatingly scales rippled across his arm again. 

He jerked his gaze away from her eyes and looked at her wounds again. That did it. His stomach dropped and his anger came back. 

“Hopefully long enough that she learns her place.” 

Narrator note: As this happened on a Friday evening, no one entered the classroom until Monday morning.  Students were a bit afraid of the silently trembling closet. Professor Flitwick opened it and an insensible Umbridge tumbled out along with a boggart. No one was quite sure how Umbridge had come to be locked in a closet with the boggart while her wand lay broken in the middle of the classroom. But there was also the huge hole in the corridor just a bit down from the classroom too.  Some speculated some creature had crashed into Hogwarts and attacked Umbridge. Not that the idea made a lot of sense. But then no one was particularly bothered by that fact. Umbridge was escorted with much fanfare to the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungos, where she remained.