Three Friends
Early June 1998
Hermione sat at the edge of the hospital bed, feeling thoroughly disheartened. She took off her hospital gown and pulled on a Gryffindor t-shirt Harry had gotten her and a pair of muggle jeans. Just as she was attempting to pull her hair up away from her face, a knock came to her door.
“Come in,” she said.
Harry and Ron walked in. It was clear from the new freckles across Ron’s cheeks and the insane mess of Harry’s hair that they had been out flying. She wanted to feel happy for them. They deserved to enjoy simple things like flying and Quidditch, especially after all they had been through.
However, she couldn’t help but find herself feeling a bit bitter. A wave of jealousy overwhelmed her gut when she realized that they were having fun without her. While she sat in a hospital bed, getting thousands of tests performed on her, Harry and Ron were out playing Quidditch in the sunshine.
Hermione pushed aside those feelings and forced a smile. “What are you two doing here?” She asked.
“Well, we figured you’d be about done with your tests now,” Harry said.
“And that you’d probably be hungry by now,” Ron finished.
Her jealousy melted away, replaced by guilt and the slightest bit of pleasure. “I am pretty hungry,” she admitted. “The food here is…”
“Terrible, I know,” Harry grinned.
An hour later they found themselves sitting in a booth at Three Broomsticks. Hermione sipped the butterbeer in front of her as she listened to Ron recount their Quidditch game. Since the war ended, she and Harry had been staying at The Burrow as unofficial members of the Weasley family. As such, they (Harry more than Hermione) participated in family Quidditch games.
“It’s not really fair to have Harry and Ginny on a team,” Ron concluded.
Hermione smirked. “I suppose it isn’t.”
“Enough about Quidditch,” Harry said. “How’d your tests go?”
She felt her heart drop. She looked down at her nearly finished drink. “About as good as they usually go,” she said. “According to nearly every wizarding hospital, I’m perfectly healthy.”
“That’s good, though, right?” Ron asked.
“I would be,” she said. “But the… visions haven’t stopped.”
She hated using the word ‘visions’ to explain her condition. She felt like Trelawney. However, no one was able to tell her exactly what it was that was happening to her. She was performing Legilimency but completely without the skills to do so. No one could figure out how or why this was happening.
“Well, I guess you can always just wear gloves everywhere, right?” Ron asked, earning a hard glare from Harry.
Hermione sighed. “Yeah, but…” she trailed off. It was hard to explain how hard it was to go around wearing gloves all the time. “I just wish I could control it.”
“It’s only been a month,” Harry stated. “If anyone can figure out what to do, it’s you.”
She gave him a small smile of appreciation. “Thanks, but this…not even healers know what’s wrong with me.”
“You know whenever I feel like I’m struggling in chess, I try to see the game from a new angle,” Ron explained. “I don’t know if that helps much in your situation but maybe you could try and…look at it differently?”
Hermione was pleasantly surprised by the intelligence of his suggestion. Before she could find a suitable reply, their dinners arrived.
Together, the three Gryffindors devoured their meals. Harry and Ron continued their stories about Quidditch. Despite herself, Hermione found the distraction to be pleasant. Sometimes it was nice to think about something other than the fact that she couldn’t touch anyone without reliving some of the most intense moments of their lives.
After eating and having a few rounds of Butterbeers, Hermione, Ron, and Harry returned home to The Burrow. The sun had set, and the house was quiet. Molly and Arthur were likely already asleep. Ginny lounged in the living room with a Quidditch magazine across her lap. George sat in a chair opposite of her, writing feverishly in a journal.
Ron immediately went to join his siblings. Hermione was about to follow him when she noticed Harry slip out through the back door. Curiously, she followed him instead.
Harry sat down on the back steps of the porch. Crickets and frogs sang their songs in the early evening. Dew was already beginning to form in the large, open lawn. Hermione could smell the familiar, welcoming scent of spring.
Slowly, quietly, she sat down beside her friend. His eyes were glued to the yard of wild grass. Above them, a half-moon was beginning to rise. Hermione said nothing. Instead, she took a moment to enjoy the quiet peace of sitting beside Harry.
“I was invited to become an Auror,” Harry said. His voice was so low that it was hard to make out.
“Harry,” Hermione turned to face him with a wide smile. “That’s incredible. Congratulations.”
Harry apparently didn’t think it was so incredible. He said nothing as he looked down at his hands.
“Or,” she hesitated. “Maybe it’s not what you want? Or the wrong time?”
“I don’t know what I want,” he admitted.
“That’s okay,” she gave a small smile. “We’re eighteen. It’s a bit ridiculous to assume we’ll know what we want to do with the rest of our lives. Especially considering…everything we’ve been through.”
Harry still couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “For years all I could think about was defeating Voldemort and trying not to die.”
Hermione fought the desire to tell Harry that he shouldn’t have been put in that position. However, she didn’t want to rehash the same old ‘ Dumbledore used you ’ fight. So, she stayed quiet for a moment. Sometimes, it was better to just listen.
“I mean being an Auror would be great. I could help people but…”
Hermione looked over at her friend.
“I think I’m tired of saving people, Hermione.”
“You don’t have to be an Auror,” she said gently. “Merlin’s Beard, if anyone deserves a break from saving people, it’s you.”
He offered her a small, uncomfortable smile. “What should I do?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione let out a long sigh. “No one can really answer that but you.”
For a moment both of them were quiet. Hermione watched as the tall grass swayed in the gentle breeze that drifted through the yard. In the distance, she heard an owl.
“If it’s any consolation,” Hermione began. “I don’t think you have to decide right now. I think…if I were you, I’d give myself time. It’s only been a month since the war.”
He let out a sigh and ran his hand through his mess of hair. “You’re right,” he smirked at her. “You’re always right.”
“I know,” she grinned to herself.
“I…I wish I was more helpful with your whole…Legilimency issue.”
“Harry, not even professional healers have been able to help me,” she gave a small laugh. “I don’t expect you to be able to.”
“Yeah, but out of the three of us, I’m the only one with the slightest bit of training in Occlumency. I just wish I was better at it,” he admitted.
“You can’t be good at everything. Besides, Occlumency is basically the opposite of Legilimency. So, even if you were great at Occluding, you might not be any good at Legilimens.”
Harry gave a half-hearted shrug. “Apart from healers, who have you talked to about what’s happening to you?”
“Two Curse experts, a Mind Healer, and a Dark Arts expert,” Hermione ran a hand through her mess of curls. “I’m not cursed, at least as far as anyone can tell. My mind isn’t broken in any way. None of it makes sense. In all reality, I shouldn't be experiencing what I'm experiencing.”
"It's hard to believe that no one can help. I mean, surely you can't be the first..." He trailed off.
"Trust me, it’s been bothering me for weeks. You have no idea how many books I’ve gotten on the matter.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “I can imagine.”
“According to my research, whatever is happening to me has never happened to anyone in the history of magic.”
“I wish Remus was…here,” Harry looked up at the half-moon.
“He was an intelligent man,” Hermione admitted. “Maybe if he was around things would be…different.” She had always had a fondness for their former professor. Much like her, his weapon of choice was a well-researched book.
“Have you talked to any Legilimens? You talked about being able to control it, maybe you just need some guidance on that,” Harry offered.
“I looked into it. Legilimency is still considered dark magic and…people who learn it often hide the fact they know how to do it. Natural Legilimens are rare…very rare.” Hermione explained. She had already spent nearly two weeks attempting to find any known practitioners.
“I might know of one,” Harry said in a small voice.
“What? Really?” She snapped her head over towards him.
Harry met her eyes but made an apologetic face. “I just don’t know how you’d feel about-”
“Spit it out, Harry. You know a Legilimens? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Harry hesitated. “Well,” he started. “Snape is a Legilimens–a skilled one from my understanding. But his teaching methods are not…great.”
“Why didn’t I think of him?”
“There might be better options-”
“No, I just can’t believe I didn’t consider him.” Sure, Professor Snape was a bitter and often downright cruel man, but he had saved them. He was a part of the Order and apparently a skilled Legilimens.
“I’m just warning you, he’s not-”
“Harry,” Hermione cut him off. “I took Potions as well.”
“Occlumency was different. He was…terrifying.”
“Funny I remember you telling the Ministry that he was, ‘one of the bravest men you’ve ever met’.”
Harry scowled. “He can be both brave and terrifying, you know.”
“Well, that’s fine. I’d rather get terrified and be able to be…normal, than be stuck like this.”
Harry didn’t argue. Hermione stared out at the cloudless skies above The Burrow.
This is good , she told herself. A new lead . Even if Professor Snape couldn’t (or wouldn’t) help her, perhaps he could point her in the right direction.
“You saved his life,” Harry remarked.
“Barely. We…we should have saved him sooner.” The thought of Professor Snape alone in the Shrieking Shack slowly bleeding to death still filled her with a sense of despair.
“He would have died if you hadn’t gone back,” Harry continued. “Why…why did you go back? I know Ron asked you after everything, but you never really answered.”
“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted. “I just…I felt like I needed to walk.”
It was certainly an oversimplification of the complex feelings she had felt post war. However, it was still the truth. She still had no idea how or why she found herself at the Shrieking Shack.
“I haven’t seen him since then. I don’t suppose you know if he’s still at St. Mungo’s, do you?” She looked over at her friend.
Hermione and Ron were the only ones Harry had confided in after experiencing Professor Snape’s memories in the pensive. They were the only ones who knew Harry had visited him in the hospital and thanked him for his actions.
“Why don’t you come with me,” Harry had said as he got ready to leave for St. Mungo’s.
“I…I just can’t,” Hermione admitted.
“Why? You saved his life. If he's going to be happy to see anyone it should be you.”
She could have laughed at the idea of their professor being happy to see anyone. “Harry, I just…I can’t.” She didn’t want to admit that walking into a building full of war-related-injuries made her heartbeat rapidly.
“He was released a few weeks ago,” Harry said quietly.
His words brought Hermione back to the present moment. She let out a shaky breath and stared out at the yard. In another life, she could have imagined herself having a yard like that.
“He might be my best chance at normalcy,” she admitted. “But he’s not exactly the kind of person I will just bump into on the street. Do you know where I could find him?”
“No,” Harry admitted. “But I could ask around. I…I still have quite a few connections with the Ministry. I’m sure they know where he is, if he’s not back at Spinner’s End.”
Hermione gave a small nod.
Late June, 1998
Hermione walked down the halls of the Ministry of Magic with Ron at her side. He was easily distracted by nearly everything that they passed. She had to focus to keep him on track.
“Ronald,” she scolded. “Focus. Percy said that Harry’s office should be down this hall, right?”
Ron stopped in the middle of the hallway. A quick-walking woman nearly ran into him from behind. Hermione pulled him out of her path.
“Yeah,” he said, oblivious to the mayhem he nearly caused. “I think he’s down there.” Ron pointed down one of the multitude of hallways.
Hermione nodded and set off. Ron followed quickly behind her, muttering something about how they needn’t walk so quickly. She ignored his remarks, too excited to congratulate her friend. She wanted to know what had changed Harry’s mind about joining the Ministry. Sure, he obviously was going to make a brilliant Auror, but he still hadn’t told her what had changed his mind.
After navigating through the maze-like halls of the Ministry, Hermione and Ron at last arrived at the Aurors’ offices. It was a large space with dozens of desks separated with corkboard. Most of the Aurors were not at their desks–likely away on missions. Harry, however, was sitting at his, pouring over a document.
Hermione smiled at the sight of her friend. She raced over towards him. Upon arrival at his desk, Harry finally looked up to see his two friends. A wide, boyish smile crossed his face. He stood and pulled them both into a tight embrace.
“You guys stopped by?” He grinned.
“To deliver this,” Ron handed him take away from his favorite Thai restaurant.
“And to congratulate you,” Hermione added. “I’m so happy for you. I know you’ll make an incredible Auror.”
A faint blush rose to his cheeks, and he ran his hand through his mess of hair. “I hope so,” he remarked. “I…I know I told you I wasn’t sure about all this, but I guess…well, I guess I wanted to do it. Or try it at least. I think I can help people.”
Hermione wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to help anymore people. He had saved the entire bloody world. However, she gave him a smile and said, “you’ll do great.”
“Yeah, mate, you basically have been an Auror for the past few years anyway. I’ll bet you already know a ton.”
Still looking uncomfortable with the praise, Harry shifted on his feet. “Some of it sure, but there’s still a lot I have to learn.”
“Ginny wanted to join us today,” Ron said. “But she owled me this morning saying she wasn’t feeling great.”
“Oh, I…hope she feels better,” Harry said. A deep blush returning to his neck. “I…I’ll go visit her tonight and make sure she’s okay.”
Hermione exchanged a look with Ron, but neither said anything.
“Potter,” a sharp voice interrupted their conversation. “Are we going to do this or not? I’d rather not spent my day loitering around the Ministry.”
Hermione glanced over to see Malfoy. She wondered how she hadn’t seen him sooner. He stood leaning against one of the walls, looking as irritable as ever.
The last time she had seen him had been at the Death Eater trials. It was the first (and likely only) time Hermione had ever seen Malfoy look anything less than put together. He had been gaunt, pale, and ill-looking. Now, he seemed to have retained some of his power back. His robes were perfectly tailored, and he had mastered the art of looking down his nose at Harry.
“What is he doing here?” Ron asked pointedly.
“He’s helping the Ministry with a bit of work. I’m supposed to go with him to-”
“Contrary to popular belief, I am not patient,” Malfoy hissed.
Harry let out a long sigh and seemed to gather himself before turning to face the other wizard. “I’ll be right there,” he said.
That seemed to be enough for Malfoy to step away from the wall and slink down the nearest corridor.
“You shouldn’t have to work with that git,” Ron said.
“It’s fine,” Harry said.
“Harry, can’t someone else do that? Surely, you-”
“Hermione, it’s fine,” he sighed. “I really should be going. But thanks for the food. Let’s all get together soon. I want to hear about how the joke shop is coming along. And how you’ve been, Hermione.”