“First off, it’s Potter-Winchester.”
September 16
“Hermione, you’re about to be really weird and I’d rather you didn’t.”
Hermione pulled away from Harry and frowned.
“Excuse me?” she said.
Harry had only just reunited with his two best friends in the world. They had arrived at the Hog’s Head just after lunch, just as they agreed on when Harry wrote to tell them when he would be in Hogsmeade.
Professor Dumbledore, aside from being brilliant and exceedingly patient with Harry during their all day lesson the day before, had done Harry a real favor by setting their meetings to Hogsmeade weekends. It meant Harry could have his lesson on Fridays, then spend Saturday with his friends.
They would do the same thing the next month as well. And if it was strange to only see his friends once a month, writing letters between the dates, it was still better than only seeing them in the summers like Harry assumed would happen when he quit Hogwarts.
Harry had been beaming when Hermione and Ron ran to him and Hermione hugged him tightly, then he remembered Hermione’s blushes around Dean. Harry assumed that if Hermione had found Dean fanciable that she was going to keel over about Sam.
Sam and Hermione were very similar, in some ways. They both loved books and reading, they both looked most alive when they were explaining some complex piece of magic - or lore, in Sam’s case. They were also both good listeners, gave good advice, and nagged.
So Harry just didn’t want Hermione to act weird around Sam and start blushing and stammering because he only had one day to enjoy with her and Ron. It was bad enough that Harry had to use some of their time to meet with Rita Skeeter.
That was important though, people couldn’t keep calling Harry’s mum horrible names. When Harry mentioned it to Professor Dumbledore the day before, he had said it was good of Harry to try and clear up the misunderstanding.
He also said that Harry shouldn’t take it personal if people would rather believe a horrible lie over the truth, but there really wasn’t a way for Harry to not take that personal.
Almost as personal as Harry might take it if Hermione spent the day blushing and not acting like herself just because Sam was there. If Sam had went out with that auror, Harry wouldn’t have had a problem.
“Just… be normal, please?” Harry asked Hermione. He looked to Ron for backup, but Ron was only grinning at the ground. It wasn’t funny, it was annoying.
“When am I not—”
“Hey, this must be Ron and Hermione, right?”
Sam stepped out of the pub with a big smile aimed right at Harry’s best friends. Hermione looked up at him and made a squeak.
A bloody squeak.
Which was exactly what Harry didn’t want.
“Sam, this is Ron,” Harry gestured to Ron, who lifted a hand in greeting. “And Hermione.”
Hermione might have understood then what Harry meant about being normal because she recovered from her initial shock quickly. Her smile was a little shy, but Hermione had never been as outgoing as Ron.
“Hello,” Hermione said. She politely offered Sam her hand and Harry was relieved that the squeaking was gone.
“Where’s Dean?” Ron asked, choosing to nod at Sam instead of shaking his hand.
“He lost rock, paper, scissors so Sam came,” Harry explained. Rock, paper, scissors was apparently how Harry’s brothers resolved most of their disputes on who did what. Sam told Harry that Dean always chose scissors, so if Harry ever needed to win against him to just play rock.
It was good information to have, Harry was sure.
“How do you like Hogsmeade?” Hermione asked Sam.
“It’s definitely magical,” Sam said wryly. He looked just as out of place again that day, but no more than Harry. Neither of them wore robes or cloaks, in fact they were kind of unintentionally matching with their flannel shirts, jeans, and boots. Harry just had on the jacket that Dean gave him for his birthday as well.
“Someone called the aurors on him yesterday,” Harry told his friends, still annoyed by it. Sure, all that happened was a pretty witch asked Sam out, but it could have been a disaster.
Harry’s friends were rightfully indignant on Sam’s behalf as Sam explained what happened. Harry, who already heard the story, was more concerned with Hermione’s face.
Were her… eyelashes longer? And her eyelids sort of… shimmery?
“Are you wearing makeup?” Harry blurted once he realized what it was. Sam clamped his mouth shut and Ron smiled widely while Hermione huffed at Harry.
“And if I am?” she demanded hotly, raising an eyebrow at Harry.
Hermione was terrifying and Harry had homework he wanted to ask her about, he wasn’t daft enough to insult her. It wasn’t even meant to be an insult, he just didn’t think he’d ever seen her wear makeup before.
“Nothing.” Harry raised his hands innocently. The four of them had to shuffle out of the way when someone tried to enter the pub and it reminded Harry of Sam’s single request for the day. “Do you guys mind if we go to the book store? Sam wants to get something.”
Hermione didnt mind at all, as Harry knew she wouldn’t. Ron shrugged in an easy-going way and fell in step with Harry behind Hermione and Sam to walk to the shop.
“Okay listen,” Ron tilted his head over by Harry’s and began whispering the second that Hermione and Sam started talking books. “You didn’t hear it from me, but Dean told me that Neville told him that Ginny told him that Lavender told her that Parvati told Lavender that Padma told Parvati —”
Harry had a headache.
“ — that Hermione fancies you.”
“What?!” Harry hissed the word and sent a covert and incredulous look at Hermione in front of him. The long chain of gossip aside, that was absurd.
Hermione was Hermione and Harry was Harry.
Absurd.
“I know.” Ron nodded seriously and stayed quiet so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Personally, I don’t see it. But I guess you went and got brothers who made you fanciable over the summer. And you do kinda stand different, mate.”
“I stand different?” Harry repeated, suddenly overly conscious of how he was standing. Harry shook his shoulders out to relax them beneath the leather jacket he had on and then straightened up. Then he felt dumb so he slouched like Ron did.
Then he straightened up again.
Ron gave Harry a sympathetic look and patted him on the back.
“We haven’t seen you as much lately,” he said kindly. “She probably just forgot that you’re Harry.”
“Yeah, probably,” Harry agreed.
It took him a second.
“Oi! What’s that mean?!”
Ron laughed when Harry’s indignant response had Hermione and Sam peeking at him over their shoulders. Sam looked confused, Harry couldn’t look at Hermione in the eyes.
What was Harry meant to do with that information? That Hermione fancied him? They were friends… that was all. Sure, Hermione was pretty enough (maybe more without the makeup though, the makeup just made her eyes sparkle in a distracting way), and everyone knew she was smart. Harry had always been lucky to have his best friends, he wouldn’t want two of his best relationships to be ruined with a big change.
“You’re the worst,” Harry muttered to Ron. Ron shouldn’t have told him, how was Harry meant to focus with that information wiggling around his brain?
Ron only grinned and shrugged his shoulders up. “You’re the one with the leather jacket and tattoos, mate.”
It was one tattoo. And Harry didn’t do it to be cool, as Sirius implied before and Ron was then. Harry did it because… well… his brothers both had it. Also it had been rather stressful to be kidnapped by his own brother and he’d rather not relive any part of that experience again.
Harry would just not tell Hermione about any future tattoos. Not that he was planning on having any more, they were incredibly painful and Harry only barely let Sam finish the thing the week before.
“Who’s replacing me and Oliver this year?” Harry asked Ron, swiftly changing the subject. Harry didn’t want to talk about how he stood or what he wore, and he certainly wasn’t going to talk about Hermione. Not with Ron, anyway. Harry might tell Sam when they got home.
Harry wouldn’t tell Dean, Dean was likely to use the information to embarrass Harry and Hermione both for the rest of their lives.
Ron took the bait immediately and started telling Harry about the tournament happening at Hogwarts that year. It sounded exciting, Harry almost wished he could be here to watch.
It also canceled quidditch for the year though, which was absolute rubbish.
“Blimey.” Harry leaned against the wall and shook his head in disgust. “They’re lucky that Oliver already graduated. I reckon he’d be furious.”
They had made it to the book shop - it wasn’t actually a book shop, but a sort of pawn shop. Harry and Ron were caught up in their conversation about the Triwizard Tournament while Hermione and Sam were bonding over old and dusty books together. Harry had been looking at a pair of broomsticks that caught his eye, but he’d lost interest when he saw the damage done to them.
“Oliver could have entered the tournament though,” Ron pointed out. Ron seemed disgruntled about the age restriction, Harry agreed. If Harry could enter a tournament about magical skill… he’d probably die, really.
Unless Hermione was allowed to help him.
Sam and Hermione rejoined Harry and Ron after seemingly tearing themselves from the books they’d been looking at. Harry didn’t see anything special about them, but Harry was more of a hands-on learner than one who absorbed book information.
“Ready when you are.” Sam had his hands in his pockets and a relaxed smile on his face.
Harry frowned for a second. “I thought you wanted to buy books?”
That was the entire point of them going to the store? Otherwise Harry would have happily gotten Hedwig some treats then spent the day in the Three Broomsticks.
“Dude, muggle money,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.
Harry waited a beat then rolled his own eyes.
“Dude, wizarding money,” he said, mimicking Sam some. It was fine, Sam didn’t care to be mimicked. He laughed the last time Harry did it.
He also kidnapped Harry the same day and locked him in a storage unit, but that had been the demon and Sam assured him it had nothing to do with Harry mocking him.
Harry pulled his bag over and dug past his wand and cloak to find his money. When Harry tried to give it to Sam, Sam refused it.
“I’m not taking your money,” Sam said firmly. “That’s yours.”
Harry paused and had a very uncomfortable realization that he wasn’t thrilled Ron and Hermione were there to witness. Were Harry and his brothers not supposed to share money?
Harry let Dean buy him food when they were on the road and he let Sam buy him jeans and boots because - because he thought that was what family did?
Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley shared money. They never kept track of who spent what - not even when Dudley would ask for money for the movies multiple days in a row.
“I… probably owe you more than those books cost anyway,” Harry said, incredibly uncomfortable. Hermione was looking between Harry and Sam with a curious expression while Ron was outright frowning.
“What?” Sam reared back and he blinked at Harry quickly. “Why would you owe me money?”
Harry really, really, wished his friends weren’t standing there. It was more than a bit humiliating.
“You bought me these boots.” Harry stuck a foot out, showing the pull on boots that Sam gave him. They were nice, Sam said they were steel toed and wouldn’t get Harry’s socks gross if they went on a hunt that ended messily.
Sam looked down at Harry’s foot and seemed even more confused when he looked back at Harry.
“I didn’t buy those thinking you’d pay me back for them,” he said, sounding offended somehow. “You just needed boots, your sneakers were crap.”
If Sam looked confused, it was nothing to how Harry felt. Harry even gave Hermione a helpless look, wishing she would jump in with an explanation for him.
Why could Sam buy Harry things and not expect Harry to pay him back but Harry couldn’t do the same for Sam? When Harry suggested they went to the store where Sam had mentioned seeing books, did Sam think Harry just wanted him to look at them again? Not only would that be boring, but it would be cruel as well.
Hermione twisted her lips to the side for a moment, looking from Harry to Sam. Harry could see the instant Hermione figured out the problem because she had a little aha! light that appeared in her eyes.
“Ron, here.” Hermione had no problem taking the money from Harry and passing it to Ron. “Help Sam buy those books, will you? Sam,” Hermione gave Sam the same bossy look and voice she used on Ron, “consider it either a very late or very early birthday present. Harry, let’s walk. Boys, we’ll meet you at the Three Broomsticks.”
Harry, who was quite used to being bossed around by Hermione, had no problem letting her take his arm and all but drag him from the shop. He heard Sam make a comment, but Ron shut him down quickly.
“It’s best not to argue,” Ron said simply.
It really was.
Harry didn’t argue at all with Hermione when she took him outside. She had a grip on Harry’s sleeve and he shifted his arm so they were linked in a way that was less ‘Harry being dragged around by a girl’.
“Families do share money,” Hermione said, not delaying the explanation that Harry knew she would have for him. “Mostly parents share with their kids, Harry. So Sam isn’t expecting you to pay him back for anything, Dean either, I’m sure. They think it’s different to take your money since you’re the youngest.”
That was stupid. Harry was the only one with money that wasn’t stolen. When he said just that, Hermione laughed.
“It’s good, I think it means they see you as sort of the baby of the family.” Hermione grinned at Harry, but she was also looking hard in his eyes. “Like… Ginny.”
“Rude,” Harry sniffed. It made him feel less anxious to know that Hermione was probably right - he’d check with Ron to be sure, since Hermione was an only child and Ron had loads of experience with brothers. “For the sake of our friendship, I’m going to pretend like I didn’t just hear you compare me to Ginny or call me a baby.”
Hermione laughed again and stopped squinting at Harry, seeming pleased with his reply. She did tighten her arm on his for a second, then she began chatting away.
“I think this is all just wonderful,” she told him. “You’re so very lucky. You’ve got private classes and your brothers seem terrific. We miss you terribly, of course, but I knew you wouldn’t be coming back. I told Ron that after the Quidditch World Cup.”
“I was going to come back, but then I changed my mind,” Harry admitted. Harry could tell Hermione anything - he always could. Hermione wouldn’t laugh at him or mock him for having feelings.
“I spent a few days thinking that Sam was going to die and then almost an entire day thinking Dean was dead and it was my fault. It sort of made me think that if I had to choose between being a wizard or being their brother that it wasn’t much of a choice. Right?”
The walk from the shop to the pub that Harry had never officially visited (only underneath his cloak) hadn’t taken long and Hermione paused outside the doors so Harry could talk. She smiled at him then, soft and warm and happy.
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t be,” she agreed. “I am glad - wait.” Hermione’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. “Why did you think Dean was going to die and why on earth would it be your fault?”
Oh.
Had Harry not told her about that? He supposed he didn’t… He wanted to tell her and Ron in person, that way he could be sure that they understood it wasn’t Sam’s fault.
“Er… I’ll tell you later,” Harry said, stalling. It was a long story and he didn’t want Sam to catch up in the middle of it. Sam had been upset badly by the whole thing, he probably didn’t want to hear it again.
“Did I tell you who my professor is?” Harry asked as a diversion. He opened the door to the pub for Hermione and smirked, knowing it would drive her mental. “It’s Dumbledore.”
“What?!”
If nothing else, Harry was excellent at knowing what topics of conversation would distract his friends the best.
Hermione was still grilling Harry about every detail of his lessons when Sam and Ron met up with them. Harry had enough time to order four butterbeers and a basket of chips, but not enough time to satisfy Hermione’s curiosity as they kept getting interrupted.
It seemed as if Harry had become thrice as popular since not returning to Hogwarts. Classmates kept popping over to his table to say hello and to ask why he wasn’t in classes anymore. By the time a Ravenclaw boy Harry didn’t know asked him, Harry got sick of telling the truth and began making things up.
“It turns out I didn’t survive the killing curse after all,” Harry had told him, very seriously. “I’m a reanimated corpse. It’s quite common, contagious too. Best if I don’t mix with the other students.”
Hermione was still giggling about the way the boy practically ran from Harry when Sam tried to plop down beside Harry. Ron elbowed him, in a way so casual that it could have been an accident, and took the open seat on Harry’s side of the booth.
Sam only shook his head before sitting beside Hermione.
“What’s so funny?” Ron asked with a crooked grin. He subtly handed Harry some coins under the table, probably Harry’s change, then snagged a chip to eat.
“Harry’s an inferi now,” Hermione said factually. She pushed one of the bottles of butterbeer to Ron then slid one to Sam. “It’s contagious too.”
“What’s an inferi?” Harry and Sam asked at the same time.
Sam grinned at Harry about their double speak, so he probably wasn’t unhappy about the books Harry saw him carry in with him.
Hermione started explaining what an inferi was and Harry let his attention wander some… he mostly looked around the pub, taking note of those he recognized and anyone he didn’t.
Dean and Seamus, two of the Gryffindor boys in Harry’s year, were at a table with the Patil twins. Neville, the other boy in Harry’s old dorm, sat at the counter with Ron’s sister Ginny and a girl Harry didn’t recognize with blonde hair.
Hagrid was there, Harry made a note to pop by and say hello if he had time, with some of the other professors. Harry craned his neck to see who it was that sat beside Hagrid when the person suddenly whipped their head around to meet his eyes.
It was a man, a very distinct looking man. There was one normal, if brightly colored, blue eye staring at Harry and another blue eye, electric and fake, that stared him down just as intently. The man’s nose was missing an entire chunk of it. He was frightening looking, actually.
Sam tried to catch Harry’s attention for something and he turned around to see what Harry stared at. When he saw the man staring down his brother, Sam glared. Hard.
And Sam wasn’t someone that glared often.
“Who is that?” Sam demanded when the man abruptly turned back to his table. Harry shook it off, it had been strange, but people stared at him quite often.
Except the man didn’t look at Harry’s scar, which was what most people looked for first.
“Who?” Ron looked where Harry had been and then snorted loudly. “Oh, that’s Professor Moody. He’s mental, mates. Hermione hates him.”
“I do not hate him,” Hermione said hatefully. “I - oh shut up, Ronald,” she said when Ron snickered. “He used transfiguration on a student!”
“It was Malfoy and it was wicked,” Ron grinned.
“He used unforgivable curses on us!”
“That actually was sick.” Ron’s face twisted up in distaste. “Neville had nightmares about it.”
“Exactly,” Hermione said with a sharp nod of her head.
“Wait, what?” Harry felt like an outsider suddenly. He missed so much. “What happened with Neville and Malfoy?”
“It was horrible,” Hermione said before launching in the story. Apparently Malfoy had made a comment to Ron (and since neither of Harry’s friends could remember what he said, Harry assumed it had been about him) and when Hermione pulled Ron away before he hexed him, Professor Moody did it instead.
Sam stared deadpan at Harry, the arch of his eyebrow portraying a very clear message: ‘See? This is why we didn’t want you to go there.’
Which, fair. Because it only got worse when Hermione told them about Professor Moody using illegal curses on the students. Sam made a face when they described the imperio curse and Harry hastily changed the subject.
“Oi, either of you know an auror named Tonks?” Harry asked nonchalantly, feigning ignorance to Sam’s quick blush.
“Um… no?” Hermione said. “Should we?”
“I do, actually,” Ron said, surprising them all. Harry had only brought it up to tease Sam, he didn’t expect Ron to actually know her. “She went to school with Charlie. Why?”
“Because she’s at the counter,” Harry said casually. Sam perked up instantly, straightening his back and looking past Harry to the counter. Harry had seen the witch enter the pub, she stopped and talked with Professor Moody - who Harry had been subtly watching as there was something strange about the man - before she went to the counter.
Hermione scrunched her nose up. “Is it the witch with the odd shaped head?” she whispered.
Harry looked over to the counter and saw who Hermione meant and he laughed.
“No, she’s the pretty one with pink hair,” Harry said. Hermione scowled, but Harry missed it as he wondered if Sam could be dared to do things, like how Dean had dared Harry to compliment Hermione in front of - oh.
Maybe that explained Hermione saying she fancied him. Hermione didn’t know that Dean had been trying to embarrass Harry. Though, Harry would never tell her as it would be horribly rude and might make her cry.
Harry saw her crying enough last year, thank you.
And Sam probably couldn’t be dared to do things anyway, but Harry figured he could be manipulated a little tiny bit.
Harry abruptly knocked his own drink over, spilling the remainder of it all over the table. Harry’s original plan of sending Sam for napkins was ruined when the table only absorbed the liquid, probably charmed to stay clean. But that was okay, Harry could improvise.
“Shit.” Harry cursed and then made the most dramatic sigh he could when he picked up his empty bottle. “Now it’s empty…”
Sam looked torn between laughing and scowling.
“You aren’t subtle,” Sam said drily, his lips twitching.
“No?” Harry gave him an innocent look. “I’d go get a new one, it’s just… I don’t get much time with my friends, you see, so every second counts.”
Sam actually pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, as if he had a pain.
“If I go get you a drink and say hello, since I’m sure that was the point of this, will you lay off?”
“Yup.” Harry quickly passed Sam a few coins and smiled brightly. “You should offer to buy her a drink, that’s what Dean told me to do with Natalie, but I couldn’t really buy her one, could I?”
Sam muttered something unflattering about Dean and Dean Junior before standing up and making his way to the counter.
“Who’s Natalie?” Hermione asked the second Sam walked away. Harry had to wait to answer her, first he needed to watch and make sure Sam went to Tonks.
Sam did. He slid right up beside her and Harry relaxed when he saw the Tonks smile gave him. Despite Sam’s objections, he smiled back at her.
“Unimportant,” Harry assured Hermione, refocusing on his friends. “Who wants to hear about these demons that keep bothering my brothers?”
Ron and Hermione both did and while Sam ended up staying at the counter with Tonks - Harry took Sam’s drink, since he clearly forgot Harry’s excuse for sending him up there - Harry told his friends everything he edited out before. He started with the airplane ride, giving the truth of it and how he thought he’d caused the wreck.
Hermione made a pained noise and Ron gripped Harry’s arm tightly on the table.
“You could have died,” Ron said, scarily pale beneath his freckles.
“And they wouldn’t have even known,” Harry pointed out. “Demon’s don’t seem terrible smart, really. Except for Meg, she’s the worst. Listen…”
Harry told them about the demon, Meg, that possessed Sam and kidnapped Harry and Jo. That led to the tattoo explanation as well, which had Hermione’s eyes flicking to Harry’s chest at odd times, triggering his own blush.
“I’m not glad you were kidnapped by a demon possessing your brother, of course, but I am glad that Jo was with you.” Hermione had grabbed Harry’s arm as well, leaving both of his friends’s hands on him, and she squeezed it then. “She sounds very considerate.”
“I think she sounds hot,” Ron said, a bit dreamily with a crisp halfway to his mouth.
Harry didn’t even think about it before agreeing with Ron. Jo was attractive, it was why her flirting with Harry made him so bothered.
“She is,” Harry told him. “She said she’s going to give up on dating until I’m of age, but I’m sure that’s a joke.”
Hermione yanked her hand away from Harry as if he had been burning her. It was the scowl on her face, and Ron’s quick kick beneath the table, that reminded Harry perhaps that wasn’t the most tactful thing to say.
“If you had been with me I’m sure we could have escaped much sooner,” Harry told Hermione quickly. It was true, probably. Hermione was a genius and she was good at thinking of plans when it involved saving their lives, like when she caught Professor Snape on fire.
Hermione only seemed mildly mollified by that, but it didn’t matter as much because the pub door opened, the cold breeze catching Harry’s attention, and Harry saw the witch he had been waiting on enter the pub. Harry couldn’t say for sure how he knew the blonde woman with the red lipstick and blazer was Rita Skeeter, he was just sure of it.
Even more so when she immediately found Harry in the crowd and began striding toward him.
“Don’t go,” Harry begged his friends immediately, whispering so they weren’t overhead. Sam was still at the counter and Harry, as he just proved, had a habit of not thinking before he spoke.
Harry only had the one chance to tell Rita what happened with his parents and Sirius, he couldn’t bear to ruin it because he was stupid. Sirius had seemed crushed when Harry asked for Dean to sign as his guardian, the least Harry could do was show his godfather that he didn’t replace him.
“Is that the reporter?” Ron asked. He squinted at Rita - or the person Harry assumed was Rita. “Yeah, she looks it.”
Which meant Harry was right, reporters had their own distinct look.
“Harry Potter!” Rita stopped beside their table - none of the three stood for her - and smiled at Harry. It didn’t seem very genuine, she didn’t seem like she was a genuine person in general, but what was Harry meant to expect from someone who wrote stories about people for a living?
“How lovely to finally meet the face behind the letters,” Rita said as she quite literally shoved Hermione to the side to make room in her booth.
Harry gnashed his teeth together hard, but Hermione was tough, tougher than Sirius. She didn’t need Harry to make a scene over her being pushed, but Sirius did need Harry to do something for him.
Also Hermione shook her head, silently warning Harry to hold his tongue, so he did.
“And who might you two be?” Rita asked, much less friendly, after Harry greeted her tersely.
“We are Harry’s friends,” Hermione said coolly, eyeing the witch with dislike. “And, for the record, we’re also witnesses to everything Harry has to say.”
“Are you?” Rita smiled again and Harry wished she would stop, it looked painful. She unclasped the large dragon skin bag she carried and pulled out a green quill and scroll of parchment. When she looked at Harry, he knew it was his one chance to get the truth out.
“And what do you have to say, Mister Potter?”
“First off,” Harry folded his arms on the table and smirked at Rita, “It’s Potter-Winchester, and I’d like that to be officially noted.”
Ron hid a smirk behind his drink, Hermione laughed lightly, and Harry relaxed.
Harry’s friends had never let him mess things up too badly before. They had both been there the night that they all met Sirius. If there were any two people more qualified to help Harry in that moment - aside from Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black themselves - Harry didn’t know them.
And, really, he thought they did great. Professor Dumbledore hadn’t needed to warn Harry about anything, Rita seemed eager to tell Harry’s story, both the one about his conception (a horrible word that no fourteen year old should discuss, ever) and the one about his godfather.