Unspoken

Hermione dove for the wand in her pocket, whirling around to find herself face to face with a young man with bright green eyes and a scar on his forehead.

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Harry James Potter

Birthday: July 31, 1980

Also known as: The Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One, Hero of the Wizarding World, The Golden Boy

Favorite Color: Gold

Favorite Food: Treacle Tart and French Onion Soup

Job: Auror for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Harry was my first friend. Him and Ron I suppose. Both at Hogwarts and in real life. Even before I found out I was a witch, I was an outcast because of my love of learning and nose-in-a-book tendencies. (Honestly, how many children enter primary school quoting Austen or reciting the periodic table of chemicals from memory?) But even our friendship, which has now endured over a decade, had a rocky start and several bumps in the road. Harry (and Ron) saved me from a troll in our first year at Hogwarts and it was sort of an unspoken truce on our previous first impressions of each other from that point forth - one of the vials in the suitcase has memories from that day as that particular incident was a defining moment of our friendship (see Vial 6).

Harry is pretty much my brother, as close as anyone can get without having any actual blood ties. Sort of an estranged brother at this point in life, since I have been keeping my distance from everyone due to the prophecy. But I know that if I even hinted that I needed his help, he’d drop everything and run to my side. It hurts me to know how true that statement is and yet I am still keeping him in the dark. Because Harry - sweet, sometimes clueless, brave Harry - has a sort of complex about saving people. He believes that the safety of everyone is his sole responsibility, and he takes it personally when someone near him is hurt. He became an Auror after the Second War ended (see the Second WW tab) because that conviction of his will never die until he does. It is also why I decided not to ask for his help in this matter.

The friend I mentioned in my second letter, the letter in the frame  - the friend who had to live their life understanding the inevitability of a prophecy - is Harry. A prophecy was made before his birth that there would be a child who had the potential to become the savior of the wizarding world, the only hope against a dark wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort. He lost his parents at the age of one - using the words of the prophecy to identify this magical child he so feared, Lord Voldemort set out to kill Harry when he was a baby and murdered his parents. His mother only just managed to protect Harry with a powerful love charm. He was raised as a black sheep by his mother’s muggle sister, never knowing what his parents had done to save him, never knowing his magic, never even receiving love or praise until he arrived in the wizarding world. 

The sort of worship and admiration that poured in from every corner when he arrived at school could go to anyone’s head, child or not. But Harry has always been a bit reserved when it came to trusting others and wary of glory and fame. When he was younger, he was sometimes unwittingly cruel and held some major grudges. Since the war, Harry has been a little softer, kinder. He is utterly loyal to those who gain his trust. As one of the youngest Aurors in history, he never slacks off or uses his name or situation to get ahead. I’d almost call him a workaholic, but that would be calling the kettle black.

All that considered, Harry is a bit broken. That need to save every person, even a stranger, comes from all the losses he has suffered - Voldemort and his followers took his parents, his godfather, mentors, friends, and even a bit of Harry himself. It may sound like I am contradicting what I wrote about his personality, but Harry had dealt with enough betrayals to make him often suspicious of people’s intentions - especially if they are vague or seem to be hiding information from him. And he does have a temper if he thinks you are keeping him from protecting his loved ones. I think the only reason I have been able to keep Harry off my back about my own prophecy is our history and the fact that I’ve used my work within DoM to avoid him as much as possible this last year. Despite defeating Voldemort, he doesn’t have access to our division.

That is not to say that I have left my best friend alone in the world. The best thing to ever happen to Harry Potter is Ginny Weasley, Ron’s little sister. If you do see Harry, Ginny likely isn’t far away. They are the sweethearts of the wizarding world, as you may surmise once you have finished reviewing the first of the memories I have left you. I’ll write more about their relationship when I get to Ginny but I didn’t want you to read this and think of me as completely without a care for the man I call my brother.

Harry is the last person I wanted to know about all this. Under no condition should he be told. He will never understand my decision to prepare for this, to keep him and Ron and all our friends out of the loop because to him, this would be another loss. He would pour himself into finding a solution and I know there is not one. He needs to be present for his life, for Ginny and the family they will hopefully start one day, and not be distracted by something no one can stop. 

I wish I could convey how much I love Harry. I have never loved him in a romantic fashion, despite the rumors and any stupid Witch Weekly gossip columns you may come across in the future, but it is his presence in my life that I have missed the most as I have planned for your coming. He may be a clueless sop when it comes to women and instantly distractible if you mention a broomstick, but the way he calls me ‘Mione and the hugs that feel like he’ll never let you down, he made me feel accepted and loved every day of our friendship…

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“Are you alright, Hermione?” It was the young boy from the photo on the nightstand, all grown up with some weariness about his eyes and a hint of a five o’clock shadow on his square jawline. His hand had grabbed her about the elbow to keep her from toppling over mid-spin. The eyes that looked over her face were sincere and full of worry.

Hermione took in a wobbly gulp of air and smiled tiredly. “Sorry. It was… a long day today. I wasn’t expecting you here. It’s almost eleven.”

“I know.” He sighed, closed his eyes and let go of her so that she could rebalance herself on her heels. “When else am I supposed to get to see you in person, though?”

Preferably not on my second day as a person who doesn’t even know if she likes hot baths or her favorite cocktail. Not that she could tell him that. She opened her mouth to try to come up with some excuse, but this was the person who knew Granger best of all. Better than she did, certainly.

They shuffled awkwardly in the corridor. Harry rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a reproachful look. “Hermione. I just… Look. I know things have been busy, but... you never replied to the wedding invite.”

Her brown eyes went wide. His green ones filled with hurt and confusion.

Was nothing going to go right today? Hermione knew from the very first of the preserved memories that Harry had gotten engaged, but so far in the notes there had been nothing written about the wedding. No mention of whether she was in the wedding, or if there was a dress fitting she needed to attend, or even a wedding date. Her best friend’s wedding. 

That’s cold, Granger. Hermione thought to herself. It’s one thing to screw over me and not face the consequences, but you wrote he was practically your brother. 

When she didn’t answer right away, the reproach turned to resentment. Harry stepped back from her and looked up and down the corridor, refusing to meet her eyes as he told her, “I haven’t seen you since my birthday, Hermione. Apparently, no one has. Neville says the last time you responded to one of his owls was late summer. And then, after not responding to our wedding invite, you didn’t even show up for the Halloween Feast. I almost asked permission from Kingsley to storm into your office a week ago but I needed a few days to not completely blow up at you!”

It looked as though he was trying his damndest not to blow up on her now. She could see where he was clenching his jaw and he had stuffed both hands in the pockets of a dark red cloak that appeared to be part of a uniform.

“Gin, on the other hand, is furious with you! As is Ron, in his own way, to say nothing of Molly. I get your job is fulfilling, that you finally get to indulge in all the research your heart could desire but, Merlin, would it kill you to pop by now and then? 

He looked at her now, eyes firm and unrelenting, shoulders hunched as though Harry expected he was going to get told off and wasn’t going to have it.

“Harry.” His name was still unfamiliar yet so easy to say. “I am so sorry. I was certain I sent the reply but it must have gotten buried in all my paperwork on my desk.” she fibbed on the fly, changing her expression to one of contrition. Would he be able to sense that she was lying? What were Granger’s tells? Harry surely knew them. Hermione wanted to reach out and touch his arm but from his stance she wasn’t sure if that would make Harry upset or if offering comfort would be out of character for Granger. She fumbled for words, any words, to fix this quickly. “Of course I am coming. I… I would never miss your wedding. You know that.”

And… now she had to go to a wedding. Her mouth just kept getting her into trouble.

Oh Merlin, the wedding had better not be this weekend.

Harry nodded, but was still glum and surly. “I know. I thought for a while it might be because - well, we decided not to have a bridal party so you are not standing up for me or anything. No walking down the aisle with Ron. Not that you’d know because I never see you anymore!” He stopped momentarily, a muscle ticking alongside his jawline before softening. “But… Ginny has her whole family there and you… you are my only family that I’m not marrying into. I need you there, however awkward it may be for you.”

Oh, Granger, you bitch. The look on his face nearly broke her heart. 

Without thinking any more about giving away her present condition, Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry’s torso and held him. Screw it if her hugs felt different. Apparently he didn’t mind one way or another because his arms quickly enveloped her back. Granger was right - there was something about a hug from Harry that was just perfection. If Harry felt that anything was off, he said nothing. They simply stood there for a while holding one another and she waited until he pulled back to do the same.

“Thanks.” Was there a tear in his eye? “Look, um, make sure you send your reply by Friday or Gin is likely to send you a Howler.” Hermione nodded dutifully but he kept talking, “Oh - speaking of Friday, we’re all getting drinks at the Leaky Cauldron around seven. I know - I know - you aren’t a big drinker and you work crazy hours, but I want to see you more and I know this would go far into getting Ginny to forgive you for being lax in a reply.” Those green orbs morphed into dewy puppy eyes in two seconds flat.

Hermione chewed her lip - another habit she wasn’t sure what hers or something leftover by the previous Hermione Granger - and relented. Harry was jabbering about how he’d drag her to his place right now for drinks if he wasn’t straight off a shift and she was too tired to try to come up with some excuse to bow out; maybe she’d come up with something by Friday.

And if Harry was there, she felt like maybe it’d be okay to venture out. It was going exactly against what Granger had warned her about but - “Do you wanna meet up in the lobby in the evening and walk together?” One thing she definitely couldn’t remember was how to get to Diagon Alley from the Ministry. Godrick, but this whole situation just kept getting messier. 

Harry’s face brightened up into a wide, tired smile and he nodded, offering her his elbow and nodding towards the lifts. She smiled back, took his arm with a care to act as this was an action she was familiar with, and they walked together, taking the accursed traveling contraption back up to the main floor and the even more heinous Floo system. He commented that she looked skinnier than he had seen her in a while, but quickly changed the topic when Hermione gave him a look of disbelief. She asked about work and he told her about a raid he’d gone on a few weeks ago after a wizard who’d been trading out dark artifacts to muggles. Hermione nodded along as though she recognized the names of the other Aurors and he seemed satisfied.

“I really have missed you.” he told her quietly, a little somber once more as he dropped her off in front of one of the large fireplaces and squeezed her hand. “Come to drinks. I’m not asking.”

“Hey, I’ll be there on Friday. I promise.” Hermione nearly grimaced the moment the words came out of her mouth. Bullocks. She’d wanted to give herself an out just in case. Well, he looked happy.

“You’d better - or next time I’m making you take an Unbreakable Vow, got it?” 

She laughed softly, nodded, and waved him off as she disappeared into the green flames.

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“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.”

Crookshanks barely hopped out of the way as Hermione let herself collapse on the couch after exiting the Floo. He meowed in protest and thwapped her with his bushy tail, but she ignored him, blissful to finally let her guard down. In as ungraceful a manner as possible, she wiggled her feet out of her heels and hoisted herself up into a corner into a sitting up position. The kneazle padded over to her, accepting a few pets before settling himself down next to her. 

“You know, Granger must have had a screw loose to enjoy that job.” she told him, and he purred. Whether he was agreeing or just enjoying the chin rubs, well, it didn’t really matter. 

She. Was. Exhausted.

Was there any way to get out of this life at this point? Did she really have to go through all of this work and tension and masquerade as someone she was not simply because Granger had told her to? She had Granger’s money and assets and knowledge about the wizarding world. Maybe it’d just be easier to disappear somewhere like the U.S. or Canada. Australia sounded nice.

There was the small problem that Harry would probably look for her. He gave a strong impression that a missing friend was the sort of thing he’d never let drop. The man wore his heart on his sleeve, possibly to his detriment.

But meeting Harry has been… ‘Nice’ wasn’t quite the right word. Reassuring? Hermione hadn’t completely flubbed meeting Granger’s closest confidant. Thank Merlin she’d read up on his tab in the planner. It was the first section, followed by Ron, the Weasleys, Hogwarts and a number of others she had not gotten to yet. She had honestly thought she would not run into anyone Granger knew so soon. Her predecessor had been so insistent that keeping those inane hours and sticking to her office was the best way to go.

Hermione felt a squeeze in her chest akin to panic.

The corridor outside the Department of Mysteries had just proven that Granger’s understanding about her situation had potentially led to her demise.

The tired witch gathered up Crookshanks in her arms and buried her face into the softness of his fur, comforted by his warmth. The hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck were on end as she recalled the frigid darkness of the hallway where she was born. The Ministry was not safe for her. Whatever information Granger had gathered about their attacker - whatever protection she thought was in place for the person or persons who were after her - she had been wrong.

Hermione had only existed for what… about 48 hours now? Two days. But she had decided to trust in Granger’s brilliance and forge ahead in this bizarre life of magic and government secrets. The notes and memories Granger had left behind were so thorough that even meeting Harry when she was dead on her feet, no one appeared to be any wiser that something had happened. Hermione was now forced to grapple with the knowledge that she was going to have to restart Granger’s investigation from square one. 

She wanted to read more of the planner. With the ominous images of the dead bodies strewn in government hallways along with the threat of drinks out with Granger’s old friends looming over her, Hermione needed more information. It was nearly midnight though and she needed to be up again in less than… six hours.

Granger… I may never forgive you… she thought as she disconsolately shuffled herself off to bed.