In the Highlands of Scotland, during the month of November, the Sun rises late, at least compared to that of London. On this particular morning, the sun was due to peak over the hills at forty-eight minutes past seven. That meant that Dean and Neville started their morning shower before dawn. If Hermione had been allowed to close the door to her wardrobe room, she probably wouldn't have been woken up by the commotion caused by the two of them running into each other.
It would not be the first time, nor the last time, that the two woke up, got out of bed, and sleepy ran into each other. Neville always rolled out of bed on the left side, and Dean, the right, and that put them in the same space. With the addition of Hermione's wardrobe, that space was exactly eight inches shorter. As with any collision, in not so a not so neat dorm room, it was a chain reaction. Dean was knocked back into the round white and black ball he called a football, which in turn bounced off Neville's stack of Herbology books, and end up improbably pinned by Ron's left hand, which had dropped from under the covers at just the right time.
The resulting noise was enough to wake Seamus and Hermione. Hermione sat up and looked directly out of her wardrobe. Harry was actually already up. As Seamus rolled out of bed, Harry was already in motion. He tossed Seamus his boxers, and Hermione caught a brief glance of the naked Irish boy before Harry blocked her view.
"Morning, Hermoine," Harry said. He was already in his school uniform.
Hermione stretched and got out of her bed. She began her morning wake up routine, pulling off her night gown. The wardrobe doors slammed shut, causing her to look at the now shut doors. There were two panels on the upper part of the door that she could still see the boys through. And since Harry had turned to getting his books, she could see Seamus again. Hermione blushed, as she realized why Harry had shut the doors, and quickly put on her own uniform.
She loaded up her book bag with her first couple classes books and assignments, before pushing the door back open. Seamus was dressed, but Hermione was going to have to share his choice of sleeping attire with her old roommates. Parvati might like to know she wasn't alone in her choice. Hermione hugged Harry, who was a bit stiff in response, before heading down to breakfast, just in time to miss Ron's wake up cause Dean's football to be launched into the showers.
Harry was right behind Hermione as she entered the Great Hall for breakfast. There was just a slight hint of the coming dawn breaking through the clouds decorating the ceiling. To all appearances, it looked like a promising day. Of course, that was before Hermione noticed that Draco Malfoy had gotten up exceedingly early for the Slytherin.
"I'm surprised that you could come to breakfast, Granger, figured you would be too busy puking," Draco Malfoy said, his hands behind his back, and sneer on his face, as he sat on the end of the Gryffindor table. Hermione wished she could wipe that off of his face.
She didn't give Malfoy the dignity of a response, though, continuing to head towards her usual seat. That was when Malfoy pulled the plate of pungent sausages and eggs from behind him. He picked up a fork, before blowing across his plate. The smell of the sausage wafted towards Hermione, and as it reached her nose, she started to feel like she was going to throw up, just like she had the previous day at lunch, when Ron had the tuna fish sandwich. Hermione hadn't recognized that as the trigger at the time, but now ...
Madame Pomfrey had explained that with witches, pregnancy started to effect them earlier than those without magic. Hermione wasn't looking forward to all the possible symptoms she might face. She was, however, looking forward to throwing up on Malfoy. She turned, and her eyes met the Slytherin. She swayed slightly, and felt her dinner churn, ready to come up.
Malfoy's eyes seemed to suddenly open wide, and his fork drop to the floor. The plate followed as he jumped off his perch, seeming to realize what Hermione was about to do. He nearly made it, to. If he hadn't tripped, he would have been out of range.
As Hermione looked down at her dinner decorating Malfoy's robes, she suddenly felt a lot better. In fact she was now ravenously hungry. Something about Malfoy there on the floor, though, merited a response. "Sorry, I forgot. Thanks for the reminder. I really should clean that up for you. Scourgify!" Malfoy's robes were immediately clean of Hermione's vomit. She'd put more power into the spell that was strictly required, which would explain why the Slytherin's robes were now sparkling white instead of black.
Hermione turned away from Malfoy and headed to her usual seat. Harry took a seat across from her, and looked at her with an expression that she classified as awe. As her breakfast arrived, the sun broke over the horizon.
If there was one place in the castle that Hermione Granger wished she had access to at home, it was Hogwart's Library. The stacks of books, smelling slightly dusty and musty, were a tonic to the First Year. If it wasn't for the fact that no food was allowed in the Library, she'd spend a lot more time in the high ceiling wood paneled complex. When Professor Snape had told her that she was to spend the entirety of her scheduled time for Potions today in the Library, she had not hesitated to agree. She was a bit worried about how it was going to effect her practical grade in potions, but as Madame Pomfrey said, her baby came first.
She had the highest score of any Gryffindor in Potions. Potions was by any measure, her worst class, except maybe flying. Professor Snape had informed her, though, that her missing practicals due to pregnancy would not effect her score. He was also going to be altering some of the planned potions to reduce the impact, which surprised Hermione. Not, however, as much as she had been when Snape took ten points off of Malfoy for improper dress when he entered the class room still wearing the white robes. Ten more points followed when Malfoy protested.
So, for potions today, Hermione was seated in the West whisper spot table. It was known as such because of the acoustics of the ceiling made it possible to hear what ever was said in the East whisper spot table there, as well as the reverse. The West whisper spot table happened to be in the middle of the Potions section of the Library, and since she would normally be in Potions, studying ahead in the subject seemed right.
As she studied, she started to hear some words drifting down from the other table. "Did you hear what's happened to Granger? She'll never stay number one." Hermione strained her ears trying to identify the whisperer.
"I hear some girls actually want to duplicate what happened to her," another voice said. "You won't catch me having Potter's kid, even if he is well off and famous."
"You have to admit that it is a little romantic," a third voice said.
"Get your heads out of those sickle novels and study," the first voice said. Hermione almost had who that one was. "Ravenclaws are supposed to dominate the standings. I should be number one, not five." Mandy Brocklehurst? perhaps?
"So who are you going to have put Bones in the pudding club," the third voice said. "She's number three." Hermione was having a harder time identifying that one.
"Don't be ridiculous, no one is stupid enough to go after the Director of Magical Law Enforcement's niece," the second voice said. Hermione identified that voice as Su Li. "We have to build up our practical scores to knock her out of third. Who's fourth again?"
"Malfoy," the first voice said. "He's only three points up though, and I don't think he can keep his Herbology score where it is." The way the voice said Herbology, with a strong accent on the first syllable settled it, Brocklehurst.
"Well, with Potter having moved into second with his History grade going up ..." Hermione finally identified the third voice as Lisa Turpin.
"He can't keep it there, especially since the only way he made it was with Granger's assistance," Brocklehurst said. "You know without her, he'd be way down, maybe below Weasley."
"Weasley's rising ..." Turpin noted.
"Only because Granger is doing his work," Brocklehurst shot back.
Hermione started to fume. Yes, she had been helping Ron, but only checking his work, and going over her notes with him and Harry. She was not doing his work, and the implication that she was made her mad.
"From twenty-sixth to twenty-first, you don't go up that quickly without having some intelligence," Turpin said. "His older brother Percy is ranked second in his year, behind Penelope."
"Did you hear that they got caught in a broom closet?" Brocklehurst interjected. "Hope Clearwater knows her contraception charms, because rumor is Weasleys can put a girl that way with a glance. Probably what really happened to Granger."
"No, I checked. Granger couldn't be wearing Potter's collar if Weasley had been the father," Li said. "You know they took down the ritual circle in the old East tower."
"Still haven't got them all," Brocklehurst said. "Maybe we can get Bones and Malfoy in one, not with the same ritual of course – take out two in one blow without studying."
"Sacrilege!" Turpin cried out. "And we better get going. Transfiguration is in five minutes."
Hermione started to pack up her own books, as it was the same amount of time to her Charms class. As she did so, she fumed over the statements she'd overhead. Hermione hadn't actually been aware that Harry was so high in the class rankings. She had been aware of her own ranking. The ranking was, after all, provided next to the Deputy Headmistress's Office. It was actually hard to miss the way the top ranked student in each year was displayed in big letters. Her name had been on top with the exception of two days when Malfoy had taken the lead.
Her books in her bag, she exited the Library. As she thought about what the Ravenclaw girls had said, Hermione grew more and more determined. She was not going to drop from the top spot in her class. Harry had sworn to her that nothing was going to effect her schooling, if he could help it. Well, if she could help it, neither of them were going to drop from the top spots in their class. In fact, she was going to make sure that Brocklehurst, Turpin, and Li, all dropped below other Gryffindors. Those ravens had no idea what they'd unleashed upon Hogwarts, Hermione though as a big evil grin blossomed on her face.
"Harry, I don't think I like Hermione's expression," she heard Ron say before she met the other Gryffindors coming up from the Dungeon. "It's scary, and I think it promises something bad, for us."
"That depends Ron, is do you want to get better grades?" Hermione asked. She kept smiling, a plan beginning to form in her mind.
"I was right, it is something bad for us, studying more," Ron said. "Course, I have to admit being able to tell Mum that I have a higher class ranking that Fred and George was nice. No way to I'm ever going to be as good as Bill or Percy, though."
"Don't be so sure," Hermione said. "I want to talk to all the Gryffindors in our year tonight. Some Ravenclaws are going to regret what they said today."
No matter what Harry and Ron asked the rest of the way to Charms, Hermione kept silent, with the same big evil grin on her face.
It had not taken long for Hermione to explain what she had heard in the Library to her fellow first year Gryffindors. After she had done so, she sat back for a moment, waiting for it to sink in. She wasn't quite sure what the reaction would be, though she hoped it would be to study a bit more.
"This isn't a plot to get us to study more, Hermione?" Ron asked. Hermione groaned in response. Ron had to live up to her worries. "I mean, I know I need to study more, but well ..."
"We're not all you," Sally-Anne said. "I mean, you can get a bit ..."
"Enthusiastic about studying," Harry replied, from his seat next to her. In the week since she'd ... he'd gradually acquired the habit of sitting next to her.
"Not that it's all together a bad thing, but there is a reason we're not Ravenclaws," Lavender said.
"Yeah, much as I like my sister, I don't think I could really survive Ravenclaw," Parvati said, as she re-fastened the clip that held her hair back. "I mean, they're always studying, and don't seem to ever relax."
"Yes, but what can we do about them?" Hermione said. "They're too smart to be caught."
"No one is too smart to be caught," Dean replied.
"Plus, I think the phrase should be that they're too smart not to be caught," Neville said.
"Oh yeah," Ron said. "Percy's the smartest of my brothers, and he never gets away with any prank he tries."
"It's too bad that there is no way we can beat them at their own game," Seamus said. "But there is no way, no matter how hard we study, that you can put Dean and I in the top ten First Years. We're thirty-four and thirty-three, right now."
"It's early in the year, that can change a lot," Hermione asserted. "I mean Ron went up five places since Halloween, and it's not like it's all theory. Harry's ranked second mostly on his practical scores."
"You know, if we leave out your scores, Hermione, most of us are doing really good at one subject practical or theory compared to the rest," Sally-Anne said. "I'm good at the Astronomy Practical. Longbottom practically can do Herbology in his sleep. Lavender is good at Charms Theory, not so you'd really notice. While everyone agrees that Potter is tops on Flying, I think Weasley has a real knack for helping us out on it. I know I that he really helped me in that class."
This was not going the way that Hermione had expected. She'd expected them to buckle down with the studying, and maybe Ron might bring in his brothers to help prank Brocklehurst, Li, and Turpin. Seamus was right though. There was no way all of them could beat the Ravenclaws.
"How about we all help each other," Dean put forward. "I'm dead last in Gryffindor right now, and need all the help I can get. Hermione's helped a bit in the last week, but it's not fair that we all bug her for help, even if she's been number one in our year practically since day one."
"Yes," Lavender said. "You're going to have enough to worry about, Hermione. We shouldn't make things worse for you."
"Sally-Anne pointed out that most of us have really good spots, even if we're not turning in hundred and six point essays like Granger," Parvati said. "Weasley for Flying tutoring, Longbottom for Herbology. Sally-Anne for the Astronomy Practical. Lavender for Charms Theory, and I'm good for Transfiguration Theory. Potter, I think you should cover the Practicals for both of those and Defense Against the Dark Arts. That leave Potions, History, and Astronomy Theory."
"No more than two, Hermione," Harry ordered. Hermione looked into Harry's eyes. He wasn't going to back down.
"History and Potions Theory," Hermione said. "Professor Snape is making me do lots of theory essays when I can't do the practical."
"We're all bad in the Practical portion of Potions," Dean said, "but, Seamus and I can at least try to find out where we can practice a bit. I don't know about you, but I think I'd do better if I could get a few potions to work without the dungeon bat breathing down my back."
"That still leaves what we're going to do about those Ravenclaw girls," Seamus said. "We can't let them get away with it. I mean, yes, we can study a bit more, but we're not going to knock them out of the top ten."
"Leave that to me," Ron said, with a very big grin.
Harry Potter was for the first time in his life enjoying having friends. He'd never really had them before, Dudley had pretty much seen to that. Ron was his first friend, and still his best friend. Ron had been the force behind today's prank on the Ravenclaw girls. The girls aim in the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical exercise had been quite a bit off. Ron's twin older brothers had charmed the targets at the end of the prior class to make a bit of a change to their verbal response. Brocklehurst took particular offense that her spells were all low and to the left, especially since the target kept telling her that she was below the bar sinister. Hermione had to explain why Brocklehurst didn't like that.
His second real friend was Hermione. He was having a hard time classifying exactly what to call her. She was his friend, but she was also having his child by magical rite. It was a bit confusing. For now, she was Hermione, and that was enough.
Hermione was why he was taking his shower early tonight, well, her and Wood. Apparently coming back from Quidditch practice, he'd smelled too strongly for her. They'd all learnt that it was best to keep strong smells away from her. So he was showering an hour before the First Years usually retreated to their rooms. Normally he took the last slot of the night to shower. Tonight he'd probably actually return to the Common Room after his shower. He enjoyed the showers at Hogwarts. They were always the right temperature, and due to all the cold showers he'd been forced to have at the Dursley's, Harry liked his showers on the hot side. True, it steamed up the bathing area, and made him have to wipe off the mirrors before he could use one, but the hot water on his body felt so good. It loosened up his back.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice came from behind him, and he reflexively turned toward her, before realizing that he was naked. He turned back, looking over his shoulder, as he lowered his wash cloth to cover himself. He looked back over his shoulder. She was still wearing her robe, which Harry found a bit comforting, though he had seen her naked before. Hermione tended to remove all her sleep wear before she put on any of her uniform, and he kept the wardrobe door open until he woke her up. "Who gave you those scars?"
Harry knew which scars she was talking about. There were two of them, long slashes, caused by Uncle Vernon's belt. He'd been lucky to escape with just those scars. To this day it was the worst beating of his life. He'd been left in his cupboard, bruised, bleeding, and near death. It was three days before he was able to get up.
"Uncle Vernon." The name barely escaped his lips. He hadn't intended to say anything. It was only two thin lines on his back, and it had been a long time ago.
"Your uncle? Why?" Hermione's soft insistent voice demanded an answer of him, even if it was only in his mind. He'd been nine, and his final grades had been better than Dudley's. He couldn't help it. He never could let himself answer wrongly. The beatings at the beginning of summer were always Uncle Vernon's worst. That had been the last beating, but the bloodstains still were on the mattress in the cupboard.
Aside from slamming him into his cupboard, Uncle Vernon hadn't done anything like that since. It still hurt sometimes. When he thought about it, it hurt. Why couldn't they love me.
Some of his thoughts must have been spoken, as the water shut off, and Harry found himself in Hermione's arms. Was it too hard for Aunt Petunia to hug him? Until Hermione, Harry had never really been hugged. He'd never had a comforting hand on his shoulder, never been pulled in close, wrapped in warm embrace. A tear escaped his left eye. Another followed it, then another. They didn't stop.
"What did Uncle Vernon do to you?" Hermione asked in a soft tone, as her arms held him against her. He was dimly aware that he had nothing on, but it didn't matter.
The words came out of his mouth, as unstoppable as the tears on his face. Every last barrier dropped as he let it all out. He rambled from injury to injury, from starvation to beating, from emotional distress to bleeding wound. Events he had totally repressed were repressed no longer. It all came out.
Through it all, Hermione held him. Her hands wrapped around him, the fabric of her school robes sliding over his bare skin. He'd never been held like this before. He'd never been comforted like this. No one had really listened to him. No one had really cared.
Eventually he could say no more. His body practically collapsed with exhaustion. Harry was dimly aware of Hermione trying to get him out of the shower and back to his bed. Somehow she managed it, and his last memory of the night was Hermione tucking him under his covers.
Hermione pulled the covers over a swiftly falling asleep Harry. Like Harry with her, she wasn't quite sure how to define her relationship to him. She'd tried many words, but none seemed to fit, yet. Some she could see someday, like husband, a thought that she schooled herself away from every time it came, even though she was having Harry's child. The idea that she was pregnant was still fresh to her. She had no doubts that she was, morning sickness certainly proved that to her, much to the detriment of Malfoy. Hermione had taken special care, after that first time, to remind Malfoy, actually managing to repeat once, that first day's incident.
As she straightened up, she noticed the Fifth Year Boys Prefect, Percy Weasley at the door. "Miss Granger, is there something wrong with Mr. Potter?"
With a determination that Hermione surprised herself with, she looked straight at Percy. "Yes, but I think he needs to sleep, for now. Can you get Professor McGonagall? I think she needs to know. And tell Ron that it would be best if he keeps the rest of the year in the Common Room."
It did not take long for McGonagall to arrive. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley said there was a problem with Mr. Potter?"
Hermione wasn't entirely sure where to start, now that McGonagall had arrived. Her parents had long ago told her that it was important that someone know when a child was mistreated. As medical professionals, they were well schooled in how that reporting went. Harry wasn't the first classmate that Hermione had known was abused, either. She'd been too late to tell her parents about Alyssa. She wasn't going to be too late with her Harry.
Harry had rolled over on to his side, facing away from the door and where McGonagall stood. Hermione reached down and briefly exposed his bare back with its scars. "He said his Uncle Vernon did it." She watched her head of house's expression's carefully. She judged the expression that McGonagall had taken to be like she'd swallowed an lemon, whole.
"I see," McGonagall said. "Mr. Weasley was of the opinion that Mr. Potter had suffered some sort of a break down, when he fetched me."
Hermione covered Harry again, and sat down on the bed, next to him. Her right hand found it's way into his messy hair, not quite yet dry from his shower. Harry stirred briefly at her touch, before smiling slightly in his sleep. "I interrupted his shower, and asked about the scars, and he broke down. He cried and cried. He told me about his life with the Dursleys and how his Uncle Vernon treated him. It was if he couldn't stop, as I hugged him." Suddenly she couldn't say anything more, and had a strong urge to gather Harry back into her arms again.
There were several minutes of silence, before McGonagall spoke again. "Hermione, would you be willing to share your memory of Harry's break down, perhaps by use of my pensieve?"
"What is a pensieve, Professor?"
"It is a specially inscribed bowl that allows you to place your memories in it for others to immerse themselves in and view them," McGonagall said. "Professor Dumbledore often uses his to review his own memories for deeper understanding of events. I generally use mine when a student is unable to express what happened to them."
With determination, Hermoine met McGonagall's eyes. "Harry and I will be there tomorrow morning after breakfast."
McGonagall stared at Hermoine for a few seconds. Then she nodded, and placed a comforting had on Hermione's shoulders. "Very well. It would be best if Harry had some support as we go through abusive memories, and he has shown significant trust in you, quite justifiable in my opinion. I shall tell your dorm mates not to disturb Potter's sleep. Tomorrow, in my office."
McGonagall turned and left the dorm room. Through the still open door, she heard McGonagall say, "Mr. Weasley, we need to talk about Miss Clearwater's presence in your dorm room."
Harry Potter awoke rather early the next morning. He didn't quite remember going to bed the previous night. As he shifted in bed, he realized that he wasn't wearing anything under the covers. He had not slept naked before. He looked over to his night stand, and realized that if anyone was up when he reached for his glasses he was going to end up showing his scars. That froze him in place for a moment.
It was nice and warm under the covers. He hadn't believed Seamus. Harry thought he'd stay under the covers for a bit. It wasn't often that he got to do so.
"Your glasses, Harry?"
Harry groaned at Hermione's interruption of his attempt at a morning lie in. He put on his glasses and looked to his right. The room was still quite dark, but the light coming from Hermione's wardrobe room was enough to tell that she was at least still wearing her night gown.
"Scoot over a bit."
Harry moved over so Hermione could sit down on his bed. He propped up his pillow against the head board, and sat against it, most of his body still covered by the covers
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" she began, her hand reaching to touch his hair. He'd noticed that Hermione seemed to love to run her hands through his short messy hair, somehow managing to make it look even more messy. Her hands moved down to his bare shoulders, just touching the tip of one of his scars.
"I did once," Harry said, as Hermione slid her arm around his back. "Miss Roach had to quit and Uncle Vernon didn't let me have dinner for a month. She was my favorite teacher. She always had time for my questions, and she didn't let Dudley bully me. After that I never brought it up again. I didn't want to lose any more teachers that helped me."
"Well, here you won't have to worry about your Uncle Vernon getting to your teachers," Hermione said. "McGonagall wants to hear about how he treated you, and will do something about it."
"You told her?" Harry exclaimed. He didn't want any one to really know what happened to him. He found himself wanting to pull away from Hermione, but constrained not to due to the covers and his lack of attire. "I didn't want anyone to know. I don't want to be treated like ... like ... a freak." That wasn't the word he really wanted to say, but it was all he could say. It was almost a minute before he was able to say anything more. "I don't think I can tell anyone."
Hermione pulled Harry close to her. Somehow he ended up looking directly into her eyes, as her arms wrapped around his bare back. "I'll be with you Harry, and you don't have to say anything." Harry couldn't help but to believe her. "Professor McGonagall has this thing called a pensieve that will allow you to share memories without saying a word." He didn't have to say a word. He didn't think that he could say much at all. The wounds were too deep, too covered over, to risk opening again, so soon. "Now, get dressed. We'll have an early big breakfast, and then go see Professor McGonagall."
"Okay," Harry said, but didn't start moving to dress until Hermione stood and headed for her wardrobe. As he put on his clothes, he thought about what Hermione had ordered. It was an order, that was definite. According to the guidelines book that McGonagall had given them, Hermione wasn't supposed to be able to give Harry orders. It hadn't taken Harry long to determine that the book was wrong on that. Hermione gave orders, and Harry knew that when Hermione got the an idea into her head, there were two choices. He could go along with her, or get out of the way.