Good Friends
Author’s note: Any names you recognize from the Harry Potter series are not my own creations. This story comes entirely from my imagination. I am not earning any money from it and won’t be paying for related art commissions. Additionally, I do not support the views of she-who-must-not-be-named, the series’ creator.
Some folks are fair-weather
Some just drift in and out
At my worst or my better
You always stick around
And if we live to a hundred
Or through to the next drink
I swear to God on my heart
Nobody will know you like me
~ Good Friends by Maren Morris
Hogwarts library was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon, thanks to much of the Hogwarts population being out on the Quidditch pitch and out of her hair. The late December sun was already filtering through the tall windows in small rectangles across the wooden table that held her selection of books and notes, and all that could be occasionally heard was a flip of a page from a fellow student or a scratch of a quill on parchment.
Footsteps were even rarer, but Hermione Granger was so into her studies that she barely acknowledged them. She was in her element, surrounded by shelves of books and parchment with her color-coded notes, and her open planner in front of her, helping her monitor her progress on each assignment.
Biting her lip, she barely registered the throb in her hand as she vigorously compared two different magical theories and how they were developed using the same method before they separated into the two current separate practices.
She was so into her assignment that she did not look up as a chair scraped across the stone floor. Not even the male groan that followed.
Still, she kept writing.
“You aren’t even going to attempt to come out?” a familiar voice asked. “You always came to my Quidditch matches.”
Hermione smiled at the voice before looking up to see her best friend of the last eight years sitting opposite her, dressed in Muggle jeans and a dark leather jacket that he had probably stolen from his godfather’s closet. His glasses were slightly crooked, as was the grin on his face, and his black hair was windblown as he watched her. Seeing him across from her again gave her a comforting feeling, almost as if he’d never left.
She bookmarked her page and closed her book as she looked at him. “Because you were playing,” she replied, “And Ron. Plus, Neville would sit with me. Now that you, Ron, and Neville have all gone off and abandoned me, why do it?”
Harry stretched out, nudging her foot beneath the table as he folded his arms over his chest. God, he had to have grown at least half a foot. “Well, since I’m not playing, for old time’s sake, come watch the match with me? I know I’m not Ron, or Neville even, but I’m sure I can sneak food out there and be a messy eater.”
She rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “I am busy, Harry.”
Harry pouted in an exaggerated pout, and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “Go try that on your girlfriend.”
“I would,” Harry said, sighing dramatically, “But she’s currently flying.” He stared at her as she reopened her book, “Speaking of significant others… how’s it going between you and Ron?”
Hermione looked away from him as she reached for another book. “Well… he rarely writes,” she shrugged. “It’s difficult to have a relationship when it’s mostly one-sided.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry frown, but thankfully, he didn’t comment as he leaned forward in his chair and picked up one of her books just enough that she smacked his hand. “Don’t disrupt my process. How did you get off from duty anyway? Ron said he’s always assigned to weekend patrols.”
Harry leaned back, “I requested every weekend that Ginny has a game for the rest of the year, along with the last Hogsmeade weekends.”
Hermione glanced up at him, “You can do that?”
“Apparently,” he shrugged.
Hermione arched an eyebrow at him, “Or it pays to be Harry Potter.”
Harry held his chest, “You know I never use that card,” he said half fake-offended, but completely truthful, with a bit of sharpness telling her that he was slightly bugged by her comment.
Hermione sighed, “I know that,” she ran a hand through her curls, “I’m sorry. NEWT revision has turned me into a horrible person.”
“I wouldn’t say horrible,” Harry said, “Maybe just slightly crazier than usual.”
Hermione looked up to retort when she actually got a good look at him. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and dark circles rested beneath his eyes. “Harry…”
Harry opened his eyes.
“Are you sleeping?” Hermione asked.
The smile disappeared from his face as he swallowed. “Not much,” he confessed.
“What happened? You said the therapy was helping,” Hermione said, concerned.
Harry shrugged, “Nightmares.”
Hermione set her quill down and shut the rest of her books, and Harry frowned. “What are you doing?”
“You have my full attention now,” Hermione told him.
Harry looked away from her. “Ginny practically ordered me to come this weekend. Said I needed a break from training and work.”
“She was probably right,” Hermione told him.
He scoffed, shaking his head. “I haven’t slept through the night in almost two weeks since I told her I’d come.”
Hermione stared at him, “Are you still seeing the mind healer that St. Mungo’s set you up with?”
Harry looked at her, “Are you seeing yours?”
“We aren’t talking about me. You are projecting again,” Hermione told him.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Harry sighed, “Hermione…”
“There isn’t any shame in it, Harry,” Hermione told him as she reached across the table and laid her hand gently on his. “We went through things no one should have lived through. We survived because we had to, and we had no other choice.” She brushed her thumb over his knuckles, “And now, we have a choice.”
Harry stared at their joined hands. “Yeah,” he whispered, “In one night… nearly half the people I knew either dead, injured, or trying to pretend that they weren’t broken before Riddle even hit the ground.”
The fire crackled loudly in the nearby fireplace, which seemed louder than normal as she was suddenly hyperaware of the students wandering through the stacks. While the world continued around them, it seemed as if Harry was still frozen back in May.
Hermione swallowed hard. “He is taking steps now at least.”
Harry looked at her, confused.
“Sirius,” Hermione stated.
Harry heaved a sigh. “Am I awful because I don’t visit?”
Hermione shook her head.
“He spent over a year in a magical coma, battling whatever spell Bellatrix cast on him. Barely clinging to life.” His jaw tightened. “He would have gone through that veil if Remus hadn’t grabbed him at the last second, and by the time he woke enough to know who he was… or I was…”
“We were hunting horcruxes,” Hermione finished.
Harry nodded, swallowing hard as he looked her in the eye. “I don’t know how to face him or Remus,” he confessed.
Hermione squeezed his hand. “Neither of them blames you.”
Harry let out a bitter laugh, “You’ve talked to Remus.”
“I have.”
“And Sirius?”
Hermione hesitated, “A little.”
Harry looked away, picking at a stray piece of loose parchment. “I avoid him. Remus, that is. He comes by Grimmauld, and I act like I’m not there.”
“Harry…”
“Tonks died because of me,” Harry whispered.
“No,” Hermione said so firmly, it seemed to startle him. “She chose to fight, and Bellatrix chose to cast the curse. None of that was your choice.”
Harry stared at the fire. “His was.”
Hermione stared at him, confused. “What?”
Harry was quiet for nearly a minute. So long that she thought he wouldn’t answer at all, before he finally whispered. “Sometimes I wish I’d listened to you then.”
Hermione’s heart constricted in her chest. “Which time?”
He didn’t look away from the fire. “In the Forest of Dean, when you wondered if we could just stay.” He took a breath, “And just grow old there within the trees and forget it all.”
Hermione swallowed. “Harry…”
Harry looked at her. “I’m not saying it because of Ginny. I’m saying it because…” he paused for a moment, as if searching for words, “For two whole weeks, everything stopped. The damn prophecy didn’t matter. The order wasn’t a care. There were no expectations other than survival and keeping each other warm.”
Hermione smiled, “You nearly set my socks on fire trying to dry them.”
Harry gave her a brief smile before it fell. “I don’t think I felt numb in those two weeks.” He closed his eyes, “I just… felt.”
Hermione looked at him sadly, “You don’t feel that with Ginny?”
Harry looked at her, “I love Ginny, but… something about our time in that tent, Hermione. Maybe because we were just learning each other’s bod-”
“SHHHH!” Hermione hushed him, looking around the library, “Can you say that any louder? I thought we were never going to talk about it again. We decided it was just… a thing to move on from.”
“I know.”
“Together, we did.”
Harry sighed, “It slipped.”
Hermione lowered her voice, “I don’t want Ron to find out.”
Harry nodded, “I know.”
“Can you just imagine how he’d react?” Hermione insisted.
Harry winced, “I’d rather not. As far as Ginny knows, we’re all each other has been with.”
Hermione stared at him, “So you and Ginny?”
Harry blushed, “During the summer.” He cleared his throat, “So… are you coming to Grimmauld for Christmas?”
Hermione smiled. “I really don’t have anywhere else to go. I mean, the Burrow is an option, but Molly keeps asking about wedding plans.”
Harry stared at her in disbelief. “Wedding plans?! You’ve only been together for seven months!”
Hermione groaned. “I know, I think she’s planning our future faster than we are.”
“Well, you’ll always have a place at Grimmauld,” Harry told her.
“I cannot wait to see what you’ve done with it,” Hermione stated.
Harry tore up the paper. “If Sirius ever leaves St. Mungo’s… I hope it feels like a home, instead of a jail for him.” Harry sighed as he stood. “Last chance. Coming or going?”
“More like staying,” Hermione told him.
Harry took a few steps backward toward the doors. “If you change your mind about the match-”
“I know where to find you,” Hermione told him. “Cheer for Ginny for me.”
“I will,” he said with a grin as he exited through the library doors.
Hermione took a slow breath as she looked at his abandoned chair, then, with a small smile, she opened her books again.
✨🪄✨🪄✨
Hermione nearly didn’t want to come, but she was thankful that the Ministry Atrium had been transformed almost beyond recognition. The dreadful fountain had been replaced, and enchanted snow drifted from the charmed ceiling, casting the whole room in a sea of powdered white that somehow melted without making anything slippery.
Witches and wizards congregated beneath hundreds of suspended candles. Their laughter and chatter filled the atrium as a string band played for everyone.
Hermione reached up for what felt like the fifth time to straighten Ron’s tie. “Oh, honestly… why is this not staying right?”
Ron caught her wrists, “Leave it, Hermione.”
Hermione stared at him, “It’s crooked.”
“And I’ll just make it crooked again. I hate ties,” Ron stated, looking around, “I think it’s stupid we have to wear one with our Auror robes.”
Hermione glanced around the crowded room, “Where is our best friend?”
“Harry?”
She looked at Ron in disbelief, “What other best friend do we have?”
Ron craned his neck, peering over the crowd thanks to his height. “I saw him earlier with Gin.” He said as he continued searching, “There he is.”
The crowds seemed to part, and Hermione finally spotted him beside the fountain, seemingly in deep conversation with Oliver Wood. Harry laughed at something Oliver said, a drink in his hand, but Hermione noticed it didn’t seem to be his real laugh.
“WEASLEY!”
Ron quietly groaned as it was followed by. “Come here!”
Hermione grinned. “I think Robards is summoning you.”
“Why am I such a good strategist?” Ron grumbled, “I hate being his favourite.”
He leaned down and kissed her temple.
“I’ll be over there getting something to drink,” Hermione told him as he started walking away, nodding at her.
Walking over to the punch bowl, Hermione accepted a glass and took a sip as she surveyed the room.
For the first time in years, everyone looked hopeful. Former Order members were gathered with Ministry workers. Even families who once had refused to stand in the same room with one another now seemed to be having polite conversations without the threat of violence over their heads.
Kingsley had done remarkable work. Within days of taking office, he’d begun dismantling centuries of discriminatory and pureblood policies. New departments were established, and werewolves like Remus were even granted employment protections. Muggleborn representation was expanded, and every Ministry employee now swore an ancient magical oath once forgotten to work toward the betterment of all magical beings rather than just Purebloods.
Of course, there had been resistance, but Britain finally felt like it was healing. It wasn’t perfect by any means. It probably never would. But it was better.
A movement of red caught her attention, to see Ginny had wandered off into another conversation, this time with faces that she had seen only within the pages of Quidditch through the Ages.
Glancing back at Harry, she saw he remained with Oliver Wood. Curious, she started walking toward them.
“Sure, you don’t want to play Quidditch?” Oliver asked.
Harry chuckled, “No one wants me to play.”
Oliver shook his head, motioning to him with his glass. “Puddlemere could use someone like you.”
Harry blinked, “Seriously?”
“I am serious, you were good, Potter,” Oliver told him, with a grin. “Better than half the professionals I’ve played with.”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, “I do hate my job.”
Hermione frowned, “Is it really that bad?”
Harry jumped, “Hermione.” His eyes seemed to sweep over the simple green dress that she had chosen for the evening. “You look…” He cleared his throat, “Really nice.”
“Thank you,” she smiled, “You don’t look terrible yourself. I see you ditched the required tie.”
Harry scrunched up his nose, “It’s complicated.”
Hermione placed her hands on her hips. “Meaning?”
“I’m basically flunking out,” Harry confessed.
“What?” she blinked.
“I’m on probation,” Harry informed her.
Oliver let out a whistle.
“You cannot be serious,” Hermione said in disbelief.
Harry winced, “I may have told off one of the instructors.”
Oliver burst out into a laugh as Hermione stared at him, horrified. “What did you say?”
Harry looked away from her, “He told me my duelling form would get me killed, then I asked him where he was when I killed Riddle.”
Hermione gasped, “You didn’t!”
“I did,” Harry shrugged.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “Harry, you cannot say things like that.”
“He started it,” Harry said, taking another drink.
“He is your superior!”
“He was wrong.”
“Harry!”
“Well, he was!”
Oliver laughed, “I am glad to see you two are still going back and forth like you’ve been married for years now.” Oliver squeezed Harry’s shoulder, “Potter, my offer still stands. Just let me know.”
Hermione looked at Harry in disbelief after Oliver left, “I thought being an Auror was your dream.”
Harry sighed, “It was… or maybe, I just didn’t know what else to be.”
Hermione closed her eyes, “Your mind healer.”
“And my own thoughts,” Harry shrugged, “I wanted to be an Auror to prepare myself better to be rid of him. Then I had to kill him before I could even be properly trained on it. After he was gone, Kingsley just assumed that was the path I would continue, and I didn’t expect to live, much less what I’d do after.” He stared at the floor, “I miss flying, and I want to be excited to do something I want to do, you know?”
Hermione nodded.
Harry looked around, “Ginny doesn’t know, and neither does Ron. I mean, he knows I’m struggling, but he doesn’t know how bad it is.” He looked at her, “If you were me, what would you do?”
Hermione bit down on her lips as she thought about it, “If it were me, I’d choose the life that made me happy and let me sleep at night.”
Harry smiled at her. A real smile that nearly lit up the room. “I hoped you’d say that.”
✨🪄✨🪄✨
Snow crunched beneath Hermione’s boots as she walked down the cobblestones to the familiar steps of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
At Harry’s insistence, she was spending Christmas with him. Ginny and Ron would join them later, after spending Christmas morning at the Burrow, where she and Harry would join them on Christmas morning at the Burrow. Afterwards, both couples would be coming to Grimmauld for the rest of the holiday season.
Walking up the steps, she touched the doorknob, and it opened automatically for her. She had expected the house to be quiet, perhaps a bit cleaner since Harry said he had been working on it, but she wasn’t prepared for the bright, white hallway that greeted her.
The dark wallpaper had been replaced with a warm cream with tiny roses. Even the lanterns had been replaced with sconces. The old portraits had been removed, and pictures of them at Hogwarts and the Potters replaced them. She smiled, seeing that he had kept the old troll leg umbrella stand, though.
The air even felt different. Not dark and heavy with a smell of dampness, neglect, and old magic.
Hermione inhaled the smell of cinnamon and sugar. Blinking as her mouth watered, she called out. “Harry?!”
“Kitchen!”
Wandering to the kitchen, she found him standing at the stove in a cream-coloured jumper and jeans with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he stood with his back to her, humming to a song playing on the wireless. She stared at him in disbelief as he turned around, and she saw he was wearing an apron.
She couldn’t help but smile.
His face lit up when he saw her. “Hermione! Happy Christmas!”
Hermione stared at him, then looked around the kitchen. The entire thing had been repainted a soft green. Copper pans hung above the island, and a large bowl was on the counter with flour on the countertop.
Harry looked around. “I know, I may have gone a bit overboard. Aunt Petunia always baked Christmas biscuits, and I thought I’d try my hand at it.”
“Harry, you’ve completely transformed this place,” Hermione told him, amazed.
“I had help,” Harry stated.
“Who? Mrs. Weasley?”
“No, Kreacher. After the battle, when I came here, we came to a mutual decision that this place needed work. Of course, he nearly had a heart attack when I took down the wallpaper, and Mrs. Black,” Harry told her.
“I’d imagine so. How did you get it down?” Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged, “Told him that he could keep her portrait.”
Hermione set her bag on the island. “You’ve done an amazing job.”
“Thanks,” Harry smiled as he brought over a plate of fresh biscuits, “Here, it’s Snickerdoodles.”
Hermione happily accepted one. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
A timer went off, and Harry opened the door. “I quit.”
Hermione froze, nearly choking on the crumbs from her overly delicious biscuit. “What?”
“I quit,” he stated as he set the sheet on the stove. “I left the Auror Academy.” He smiled wider than she’d seen in years. “I actually did it.”
Hermione slowly lowered her biscuit, “I knew you weren’t happy. I just didn’t think you’d actually leave.”
“I didn’t either,” Harry laughed, “But then the instructor and I had another argument. He criticized my spell work, then I told him exactly where he could stick his wand.”
Hermione closed her eyes, “Harry.”
He shrugged, “Then I realized I didn’t actually have to stay. So, I packed up my locker, and I called Oliver.”
Hermione opened her eyes, “You did?”
Harry took the chocolate chip biscuits from the tray. “I’ve got a reserve try-out with Puddlemere after Christmas.”
Hermione leaned on her arm, “So, you want to play Quidditch?”
Harry grinned, “What else am I trained for? I fly, I can cook,” he said, looking around the kitchen, “Apparently, with elf help, I can renovate homes, and I kill bad guys.”
Hermione’s smile faded. “You don’t kill anyone.”
Harry’s face fell. “I killed Riddle.”
Before Hermione could answer, a knock sounded on the door.
Harry glanced toward the hallway. “That’s probably Gin.”
Hermione sighed as she watched him wipe his hands on the apron before disappearing up the steps to answer the door. Reaching for another biscuit, she quietly chewed as she thought about his words.
One minute passed. Then two. She heard no voices or even footsteps. Standing, she walked into the hallway to find Harry standing frozen in the open doorway.
Glancing around him, she saw a tall man in a heavy traveling cloak at the front steps. His face bore more scars than Hermione remembered, and his hair was greyer, much less sandy brown than it had been, and his hairline was receding. But his smile was unmistakable.
“Happy Christmas, Hermione.”
Hermione stepped forward behind Harry.
“I was hoping I’d be able to speak to Harry, but I’d be happy to speak to both of you.”
Hermione smiled, “Hello, Remus. Happy Christmas. It is wonderful to see you.” She nudged Harry with her elbow, “Well?”
Harry blinked, “What?”
“Invite him inside before he freezes,” Hermione instructed.
Harry stepped aside, “Sorry, come in.”
Remus smiled as he stepped into the house. “Thank you,” he said as he brushed the snow from his shoulders, “We’re having a dreadful winter.”
He froze as his eyes hit the troll leg umbrella stand still sitting in the entrance hall. For a moment, Hermione thought he might cry.
“I…” he turned to Harry, “I love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Thanks,” Harry stated.
Hermione gently took Remus’s arm after he hung up his traveling cloak, “Come on, Harry has just made fresh biscuits, and I was just about to make some tea.”
Remus smiled, “I could never refuse either.”
Hermione busied herself as she filled the kettle, and then she plugged it in without thinking about how there was now electricity. Maybe there had always been, but the plugs had been covered under years of grime.
Minutes later, the three of them sat at the kitchen island as steam came from their mugs. No one spoke until Hermione blew on her mug. “So…”
Remus looked at Harry, “Harry, I think there are some grievances that need airing.”
Harry nodded, “I deserve that.”
“Yes, yes, you do,” Remus said.
Hermione looked between the two of them.
“You’ve abandoned Sirius,” Remus stated, making Harry flinch. “You know he asks about you every single time I visit?”
Harry frowned. “What?”
“He always asks about you,” Remus stated sadly. “Has Harry written? Has he visited? I tell him what I know, but he is always interested in more.”
Harry stared into his tea, “I thought…” His voice cracked, “I thought he’d hate me, just like you do.”
“For what?” Remus asked.
Harry looked at him in disbelief. “Well, for you, because of Tonks.”
Remus sat back, “For Nymphadora?”
Harry nodded, “Because of me… she’s dead, and Teddy doesn’t have a mother.”
Remus leaned forward, “Harry, answer me one question. Did you force Bellatrix to cast that curse?”
Harry closed his eyes, “No.”
“Nymphadora was an Auror. She chose to go into battle. Did you choose her fate?”
Harry whispered, “No.”
Remus reached over and set his hand on Harry’s arm, “Then why are you carrying guilt that doesn’t belong to you?”
“Maybe you can get it through to him, because I’ve been trying to for months,” Hermione told Remus.
“As for Sirius, he knows what happened. You went there because you thought he was there. As for now, he knows you are busy with the Auror Academy-”
“I quit.”
Remus stared at him in shock, “You what?”
“I quit being an Auror. Two days ago,” Harry told him, “I finally had enough. I called up my former captain from Hogwarts, who offered me a spot for Puddlemere, and I have decided I want to play Quidditch.”
Remus glanced at Hermione, who smiled behind her mug. “All I can say is… finally.”
Harry looked at him, surprised. “What?”
Remus shook his head. “As you know, I visit Sirius every day. When they finally won the battle with the curse and removed it from him, he must have been more aware than I realized because when speech came back for him, he started asking me questions. After I healed from the final battle, I told him that you had entered the academy, and he asked me why. Your heart wouldn’t be in it. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt anyone, so why did you go into it in the first place?”
“Because it was expected of me,” Harry confessed, “Because Dad never got to finish what he started.”
Remus burst out into laughter, “James hated it too! Old Fleamont wanted him to go into the family business, but James was awful at potioneering. You seem to forget that we had the first blood war happening for us. James went into the Auror Academy not because he wanted to, but because he had to for survival, Harry.”
“I thought Dad enjoyed it,” Harry stated, surprised.
“No,” Remus said, shaking his head, “Honestly, James wanted to be a stay-at-home dad as soon as Lily found out you were coming. Lily wanted to go into potioneering for the hospital, but James wanted to just stay at home with you, and he had the money to do so.” Remus smiled, “At least now you will be doing what makes you happy.” He sipped his tea, “As for Sirius, the healers believe that he might be able to come home soon.”
Harry froze, “Really?”
Remus nodded, “He is regaining strength and has begun walking with a cane. He still favours his left side, but with some assistance, he could come home.”
Hermione looked between him and Harry, “Where are you living right now, Remus?”
Remus looked at her, “With Andromeda. She was kind enough to put Teddy and me up until I could find my feet.”
Hermione looked at Harry with wide eyes, and Harry shrugged. “How many rooms have you finished?”
Harry looked at Remus, “If you can’t tell, I’ve been working on this place to make it easier for Sirius to come back to. If you would like, you and Teddy can move in here, too.”
Remus shook his head, “I don’t want to impose.”
“Impose? Not at all. This place is too quiet for me,” Harry confessed. “And if I am going to get the opportunity to play, I will be gone more. You’d honestly be helping me out.”
“How much would you want for our room and-”
“You’d think Dad would let me charge his best friend to live in his other best friend’s house. You can bring food in and other groceries, and that is payment enough,” Harry told him.
“Are you sure you want a small child running around here?” Remus asked.
Hermione looked at him, surprised, “He’s running around?”
“Not literally, but he will be.”
✨🪄✨🪄✨
January came around after the Christmas holiday, with the stress of NEWTs and the seventh years choosing their prospects.
The morning owls flew into the Great Hall in a flurry of feathers and letters. Hermione barely looked up from her toast as a tawny owl landed beside her with the latest copy of the Daily Prophet. Upon the exchange of a piece of toast for her paper, it flew off as she unfolded her paper.
Across the entire front page, above a moving photograph of Harry shaking hands with the owner of Puddlemere United, the headline nearly stood across the entire page.
BOY WHO LIVED CHOOSES NEW CAREER
New Star Seeker Signs with Puddlemere United Under Former Captain Oliver Wood
Hermione couldn’t help but smile as she saw the largest photograph showing Harry shaking hands with the team owner, his expression almost one of disbelief. Beside it, Oliver Wood was patting Harry on the shoulder with such force that Harry nearly stumbled out of the moving photograph while Oliver laughed.
A smaller picture was beside the text talking about Oliver and Harry’s Hogwarts careers, showing Harry signing the contract. Ginny stood behind him, glowing with pride as she squeezed his shoulder while the magical parchment rolled itself closed to seal the deal.
“So, you’ve seen them?”
Ginny practically bounced onto the bench beside her, reaching for the basket of toast.
Hermione looked at her, “How exactly did you get out of classes to attend the signing?”
Ginny grinned without a hint of guilt. “I buttered up Professor Slughorn.”
Hermione sighed.
Ginny bit her toast, grinning. “I promised him Harry would sign one of the old Potion textbooks using the same quill he signed with so that he could display it.”
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course you did.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“I’m sure it did,” Hermione mumbled.
Ginny spread jam over her bread. “There was a scout there.”
Hermione looked up, “For Puddlemere?”
Ginny shook her head, “No! For the Harpies. He said he was going to come to Hogwarts for my next game to watch me fly.”
“Thanks, wonderful,” Hermione told her.
“I know,” Ginny said, taking an enthusiastic bite, too much like her brother for Hermione’s liking. “Can you imagine it? Harry as Puddlemere’s star Seeker, me as Chaser for the Harpies. Going to galas together, charity matches, and league events. We’d probably end up in Witch Weekly every other month.”
Hermione went back to her paper, “I’m sure Rita Skeeter would have plenty to write about.”
Ginny giggled as one of her classmates came running over, excited about Ginny’s picture in the paper.
Hermione read over the quotes by Oliver praising Harry’s instincts and natural flying abilities.
“Granger.”
Hermione jumped, dropping her paper to see Professor Vector standing, holding several scrolls beneath her arm. “I’m sorry, Professor. I was reading the Prophet. You have my attention now.”
Professor Vector smiled, “I just asked whether you’ve given any more thought to the Arithmancy mastery programme that we discussed.”
Hermione hesitated. “I have, but…” she looked around, “I am trying to keep my options open. I have requested information on several mastery programmes. I’ve also written to a few academies.”
Professor Vector nodded, “Excellent. If you need any letters of recommendation, please let me know. Just be mindful of application deadlines.”
“I will, thank you.”
Professor Vector walked away, and Ginny looked at her, “I thought Kingsley already offered you a Ministry job.”
“He did,” Hermione said carefully.
“So…” Ginny frowned, “I don’t get it, you aren’t taking it?”
Hermione shrugged, “I don’t know. I am keeping my options open. He offered me two positions. One working with your dad or Regulation of Magical Creatures.”
Ginny looked at her, confused, “Isn’t that what you wanted? I mean SPEW and all.”
“It was the Society for the Promotion…” she took a breath. “Never mind.”
Before she could question her future, Ginny had friends run over.
“Ginny!” One of them squealed.
“LOOK! There you are!” She said, hitting the front page, “You’re on the front page!”
Ginny laughed, “I know! Look at my hair, it was so smooth!”
The girls crowded around Ginny, talking about Quidditch, plans, and whether Puddlemere’s robes would suit Harry’s build better than Auror’s robes. As another elbow knocked into her, Hermione rose to give them space.
As she exited the Great Hall, she unfolded the newspaper, her eyes drifting back to the moving photograph. She gave a slight smile, noticing Harry looked half embarrassed and half overwhelmed with all the attention. Hermione smiled, “I’m proud of you.” She whispered.
Folding the paper beneath her arm, she hurried to go upstairs to her dorm before her first lesson.
a/n: Welcome to yet another story of mine. I will let you know ahead of time, this is another slow burn. Hermione won’t be on the same continent as Harry for a while, but their friendship will be strong as ever. Look at the tags, and it will give you an idea of how the story will go ;)
Anyways, I am focusing on Ghost of You and Me, which is close to the end. This will be the replacement. Expect chapter two near the end of the month!
Preview of Chapter Two- this is how a woman leaves
Hermione set everything down and turned to him, looking at his face. She searched it for a moment before swallowing hard. “This isn’t working, Ron.”
Ron blinked, confused. “What isn’t?”
She inhaled slowly, then hit down on her bottom lip, feeling how chapped it was. “Us.”
“What do you mean?”
Hermione shook her head. “We’re always arguing. We’ve lived together before at Hogwarts, in the tent… but this…” She looked around the room. “This is different. This is figuring out who does the dishes, pays the bills, who cleans… who cooks. How we live in harmony with each other,” she trailed off.
Ron rubbed both hands over his face.
“And no offense,” she hesitated. “The compatibility isn’t there that I thought there would be.”
Ron looked at her, surprised.
“Romantically, that is,” Hermione stated.
Ron stared at the floor, then, to her surprise, he started chuckling. “Thank Merlin.”
Hermione blinked, surprised. “What?”
Ron touched her knee. “I thought I was the only one.”
Hermione felt a sense of relief. “You did?”
