Kapitel 71: Secrets in the Shadows
The two Gryffindors were making their way back to their house table, ignoring the muttering and stares from their classmates. They knew that appearances were very important to keep, so they sat back down in the same seats as before, acting as if nothing had happened.
When the rest of the students realized that nothing else was going to happen, they began turning their attention back to their own meals and conversations. There were a couple of students that didn't take their eyes off the two Gryffindors right away. They were busy trying to sort their thoughts on what they had just witnessed.
Draco Malfoy had been quietly observing his handiwork. He had been the one that had begun the rumor that Potter had attacked Professor Snape. His goal had been revenge for his stint in the Hospital Wing courtesy of Potter. He never saw his attacker, but he knew that it was the Gryffindor Golden Boy. Turning Slytherin House against Potter was something that would keep his hands clean while providing him with entertainment and keeping him away from him and his Mudblood whore.
Another figure sat alone at the end of a house table, watching everything. No one ever sat with her, or even talked to her unless they had to. Her isolation allowed her time to think about events more than your average teenager did. As a result, she knew much of what went on, in, and around Hogwarts. She knew that events were coming to a head around the school and that Harry Potter and Headmaster Dumbledore seemed to be at the center of most of them.
The winds of change were beginning to blow. Now she just had to decide where her loyalties were going to lie.
Harry and Hermione settled into the Room of Requirement thirty minutes after they finished dessert. They wanted to discuss the meeting that they just had with Dumbledore.
The room looked just like the library at Hermione's house and Harry couldn't figure out why the room had morphed into this particular replica. He supposed that it was because it was the first place that he felt safe in since the tournament started. He hoped that one day he would have a home where he would feel safe and loved. 'As long as Hermione is with me I would be happy,' he thought wistfully while he looked around the room.
Hermione guided Harry over to the love seat that they had fallen asleep on while visiting her parents. She sat him down and then proceeded to lay down with her head in his lap so she could gaze up at him.
Harry began absent-mindedly playing with her hair when she lay her head down in his lap. He found it very calming to run his fingers through her hair. He noticed that it had grown quite long during the school year and he really liked it that way. It had lost a large portion of its bushiness with the added length and weight.
He spoke in a whisper using his regular voice, not the one carefully modulated from Occlumency, and he lovingly said, "I love your hair longer. It makes you even more beautiful."
Hermione looked up into the eyes of the man that she loved, "Thank you. You're actually one of the first ones to say anything about my longer hair. Ginny noticed it when we were getting ready for the Yule Ball but I think that it's gotten a touch longer since then." She had pulled a few strands in front of her face to examine them idly while she spoke.
Harry was mesmerized. Hermione's hair had fanned out around her head and across his lap when she pulled a few strands loose. It made her look like her head was wreathed with a caramel colored halo. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and said, "I love you. Now, what were you going to tell me before all of this mess started?"
Hermione's insides were dancing in pleasure. She so rarely heard his real voice that she had almost forgotten how much she loved its timbre. It was at that stage between a boy and a man where it was starting to deepen into what it would become one day.
Resignedly, she ended her ruminations and returned to the task at hand, "Professor Dumbledore is Rita Skeeters anonymous source. It's the only thing that makes any sense and she must not know whom it is either. Otherwise, I don't think that she would be going after him so vigorously in the paper."
Harry had begun to seethe, his anger a slow boil, as he thought about the ramifications of Hermione's statement. His voice held a hint of regret as he spoke, "I had been hoping that Dumbledore wasn't as manipulative as we thought he was. I fear that he may actually be even worse. Has any of my life actually been free from his influence?"
Hermione's reply was just a whisper, "I wish that I knew. The worst part is that I think that he wants you to sacrifice yourself for some reason." She broke down into sobs at the thought of Harry dying for some cause where only Dumbledore knew the complete details.
His voice was laced with concern as he spoke softly to her, "Shhh. It's okay. I'm not planning to throw my life away for some cause that only Dumbledore seems to believe in. Especially since he hasn't seen fit to tell me what it is I'm supposed to become a martyr for."
After a few minutes, Harry snuggled down on the sofa and Hermione draped herself across his chest, her fingers idly stroking his shoulder as she lay listening to his heartbeat. It was a reassuring sound and she found herself drifting off to sleep.
Neither teen knew what time it was, just that it was way past curfew. They day had been a very draining one for them, physically and emotionally. Harry pulled her tighter to his chest, kissed the crown of her head, and whispered, "I love you."
Hermione was halfway between sleep and wakefulness; her response to Harry's declaration was to grip his body tighter as she wriggled into a more comfortable position.
He didn't know how long he lay there, holding her in his arms, before he drifted off to sleep. When he awoke, he was pleasantly surprised to find that she had not moved at all. Her hair had come free from its plait and fanned out over her back and his arm. It was little moments like these that Harry cherished the most. They were so pure, almost innocent, that he felt like crying and he didn't know why.
What he did know was that if it weren't for her, he would have succumbed to the darkness inside of him. Harry wasn't sure if it was his own darkness or something from his connection with Voldemort. She kept him grounded in the here and now and that was a good thing. Lately, he had been getting flashes of anger from Voldemort and it had been affecting his moods, pushing his budding skills in Occlumency to their limits.
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