Then and Now

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own any of the characters within the canonical universe. I make no money off this story.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'll keep this quick because I'm excited for y'all to read on. This chapter is dedicated to Barton Fink of Portkey.org. You gave me the idea to write my own spin on what might have happened in Book Seven. This one's for you, mate!


Then and Now
Act One: Chapter Two: Recollections III


“Harry, how often do you think about what happened after Voldemort?” Hermione asked gently, taking a sip of her wine.

He shrugged. “All the time. I think I faced some of the hardest decisions of my life during those days. It was probably during that time that I felt at my most vulnerable, that I felt alone the most.” He stroked her arm with the back of his hand. “I don’t regret the outcome, Hermione, but I wish things had been a lot less painful and a lot less messy…”


-=-=[ Flashback ]=-=-


Harry was watching Falwing fly around, the wind throwing his unruly hair about.

“I wish I was you,” he said as his owl landed on the ledge right beside him. “You never had to worry about friends turning on one another or on you. You could do what you want without other owls depending on you…”

“Harry?”

He turned around, surprised to see Ginny and Neville there.

“What are you two doing here?”

“Gin told me you’d be up here,” Neville replied. “She says you’ve been coming here for the past five days.”

“Company’s not going to lash out at me,” Harry said, an edge in his voice.

“Have you tried talking to Hermione or Ron?”

He nodded. “I have, but both of them want to ignore me.” He turned around to face them as Falwing took off again. “What about you, Gin? Have you tried talking to your brother?”

“No, though not for lack of trying,” she replied. She turned quickly to Neville, who nodded, glanced at Harry with a comforting smile.

“They’ll come around, Harry, even if I have to tie the three of you up with Spellotape,” Neville said, trying to sound reassuring. “They’re your best friends.” He turned and headed down the stairs.

“Ginny…”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh.” She leaned into him and pressed her lips to his briefly. “I just needed that,” she whispered as she broke off the kiss. “I heard Hermione crying to herself again two nights ago, Harry.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

“She was dreaming,” Ginny replied. “She kept on saying, ‘Why, Harry?’ over and over.”

“I didn’t do anything to her, Ginny—“

She pressed her finger to his lips again. “Shh. I know, Harry. I asked her myself yesterday, and she told me everything.”

“What did she say?”

Ginny shook her head. “Find Ron. He’s your best friend.” She smiled cryptically. “It’s better if you hear from him than from her.”

He shrugged. “All right…”

“I wish that things had been different, Harry,” she said suddenly, breaking the growing uneasy silence.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought we could get back together. You know, after the War was over,” she replied. “I wanted to try and make things work, but you just left. After what happened yesterday, I realized that we could never be together.”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you talking about? Everything’s just been so crazy…”

She smiled sadly at him and shook her head. “Harry, I could never have you. Talking with Hermione made me realize all that.”

“What did she say?” Harry asked impatiently. He made to move past her. “I need to find her…”

She grabbed his arm quickly. “No, Harry. You need to find Ron.”

“Why?” he said, nearly shouting. “What does finding Ron have to do with what Hermione said?”

“Just find him,” she said gently. “Everything will make sense once you do.”


-=-=[ End Flashback ]=-=-


“I never did ask you about what happened between you and Ron,” Hermione said with mild surprise. “I felt that it was something between the two of you."

“It wasn’t easy for me to confront Ron,” Harry said. “He looked like he barely survived a Dementor attack when I found him…”


-=-=[ Flashback ]=-=-


Harry found him at the Quidditch pitch, weaving around the three goalposts at a leisurely pace. Harry mounted the broom and took off effortlessly, slowly heading towards his friend. Ron caught sight of him and made for the stands, but Harry shook his head and willed his broom to move faster. Ultimately, Ron couldn’t avoid the Seeker of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team and Harry grabbed his shoulder once he caught up to him.

“All right, Ron. This has got to stop.”

“What does?”

Harry shook his head. “Look, mate, the past week the three of us have been miserable, but only you and Hermione know what’s going on.”

Ron’s face turned red at the sound of Hermione’s name. “Then why don’t you ask her what in Merlin’s name is going on, hmm?” He batted Harry’s hand off his shoulder. “Why do you need to talk to me when she’s the cause of all this?”

“Because your sister told me to find you!” Harry yelled, unable to contain his anger. “Ginny talked to Hermione yesterday and she told me that everything would make sense once I found you!”

“Bugger off, mate. I told you to leave it alone.” Ron made to leave, but Harry thought quickly and swept past Ron, grabbing hold of the nose of Ron’s broomstick and dove towards the ground of the pitch. Completely surprised, the red-haired Gryffindor was at Harry’s mercy as the ground rose up to meet them. Harry quickly lifted his broomstick up, making sure to lift Ron’s a second after. The Weasley’s broom angled into the ground and Ron flew off, spinning several times before stopping his roll on his back. Harry effortlessly glided over to Ron’s prone form.

“You going to spill?”

Ron looked at his friend angrily. “You could have had me killed!”

“Look, mate, I don’t like this situation any more than you do, but I’m the only one that doesn’t know what’s going on,” Harry spat. “The three of us never had our secrets before, Ron. Why start now?”

Ron managed to get up and glare at Harry. Harry returned the challenging look before Ron took a small vial with a shimmering light in it and thrust it wordlessly into Harry’s hand before trudging towards his broom.

“Git,” he heard Ron mutter as he took off, leaving Harry alone at the center of the pitch. Harry stared at the vial and closed his hand firmly around it.

“Potter?” a voice called out. He looked up to see Headmistress McGonagall approaching him.

“Yes, Headmistress?” he said, dismounting the broom.

“Professor Standrick has informed me of something most disturbing,” she replied.

“Does it have to do with the work?”

The Headmistress smiled slyly. “On the contrary, Mister Potter. Professor Standrick has told me that your work is quite exceptional. When I told him of your work in previous years, he had to show me himself.” She revealed a small pile of papers. “In fact, all of the other professors have noticed a positive change in your work.”

“Is that it, Headmistress?” Harry asked with a bit more edge than he would have liked.

McGonagall’s face screwed up into a serious expression. “I was referring to the fact that the rest of the staff have seen yourself, Mister Weasley and Miss Granger sitting apart from each other in and out of class. Being the head of Gryffindor, Professor Standrick felt it prudent to inform me. Being the former head of Gryffindor, and knowing yourself and your friends as I do, Mister Potter, I find it most disturbing.”

Harry sighed. “Something happened the first night we came back here, Professor,” he said. “We were talking about how Neville nominated me for teaching Defence…” He let the statement trail off as the Headmistress narrowed her eyes. He found himself leaving the pitch, McGonagall walking alongside him. “…Anyway, Hermione thought it would have been a good idea, and the two of them just suddenly lashed out at each other. That was the last time the three of us have talked, and they’ve both made an effort to ignore each other and myself.”

“I heard you mention that Miss Weasley has made some progress on the matter?” she asked.

Harry nodded. “She told me she knew, and that I’d have to talk to Ron.” He held up the vial. “Headmistress, I need to use your Pensieve. Professor Dumbledore let me use it before.”

McGonagall looked down at him for a moment. Harry was sure that she was going to decline his request when she nodded. “Tonight, after supper has been served, Mister Potter.”

He smiled, feeling like something was going right. “Thank you, Professor McGonagall!” He grabbed her hands and shook them eagerly. “Thank you!”

She smiled in return. "You’re welcome, Mister Potter.” She turned and began to walk away. “And for what it’s worth…” She turned to face him and nodded. “Had you not been busy with your education, I would have asked you myself to teach Defence of the Dark Arts.”

He looked at her with surprise. “…You would?”

Her smile grew. “After seeing many of your own Dumbledore’s Army prove themselves during the fighting here in the school, I would have found you a suitable choice.”


-=-=[ End Flashback ]=-=-


“There you two are!”

Hermione and Harry turned around. “Oh! Uncle Rob!”

Harry grinned. Hermione’s uncle Robert was a tall bear of a man with long straight black hair and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He reminded Harry of a more human-proportioned Hagrid.

“Your mother and father were looking for you, ‘Mione,” he said. He leaned towards Harry. “You weren’t planning on sneaking off with her, were you, Harry?”

Though the man’s voice was intimidating, Harry couldn’t help but smile when Robert raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione slapped her uncle on the shoulder. “Oh, leave him alone, you git!” she laughed. “Were Mum and Dad looking for us?”

“They’re calling for a toast,” Robert said. “Come on!”

As Hermione’s uncle dragged them both back into the house, he smiled. Never thought I’d see the day when Muggles would be celebrating the day we defeated Voldemort, he thought. Or maybe they’re just doing it for us. His thoughts turned dark. I just wish Ron were here...


-=-=[ Flashback ]=-=-


“Earwax jellybean,” McGonagall said. The gargoyle stuck his tongue out at Harry before the wall revolved revealing the staircase to the Headmaster’s office. McGonagall gestured towards the staircase and Harry nodded before ascending. The vial with the shimmering light was in his hand, and he held it with a determination that threatened to break the glass.

The Headmaster’s office was just as Harry remembered it, and his gaze flew directly to the large stone Pensieve sitting on its pedestal.

“Thank you again, Headmistress,” Harry said.

“I’d rather allow you to use it rather than have you sneaking into my office with your cloak, Mister Potter,” McGonagall said, smiling cryptically as Harry’s body stiffened defensively. “Oh, Albus and the other members of the Order have told me of the trouble you and your friends have gotten into with that cloak. I’d rather you ask first before causing any trouble.”

He allowed himself a grin. “Right.” He slowly turned and regarded the Pensieve almost reverently. Uncorking the vial, he upended it, letting its contents spill into the Pensieve and swirl about inside. Taking a deep breath, Harry slowly put his face to the bowl, and his vision swirled and spun as a flash of light seared his vision…


* * * * *


He was in the Chamber of Secrets, watching Hermione violently kicking the side of the dead basilisk’s head.

“Stupid…bloody…tooth!” she growled, punctuating each word with a stomp on the large corpse.

“Hermione, wait!” Ron said, running up to her. He stopped her and looked at the fang. “On three, okay?” They counted down and stomped on the skull at the same time, smashing both fangs clean off. Hermione took her beaded bag and opened it, rummaging through for the cup. Finding it, she set it on the ground and grabbed one of the fangs.

“Wait!” Ron called out. “We have to summon the part of the soul within it!”

“Can’t we just break it?” Hermione asked impatiently. “Just stab the cup and be done with it?”

Ron shook his head. “I don’t think it’ll work. Harry made the locket open using Parseltongue. Maybe I could try it.”

“You can’t speak snake, can you?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Ron snapped. “Look, Harry said the diary spoke to him in Parseltongue, and he used it again to open the locket. It has to mean something, right?”

Hermione thought about it quickly before nodding. “You’re right. Can you try it?”

Ron bit his lip. “I’ll try.” He made a raspy, slithering hiss, but nothing happened. “Wait, lemme try ‘er again.” He hesitated for the briefest moment before hissing again.

“Ron, we haven’t got much time!” Hermione said.

“Hold on! I’m trying my best!” Ron said. He made another raspy hiss, and the cup started to shake. Thick gray smoke started to flow over the cup’s rim and crawl along the ground.

“Now, Hermione!” Ron shouted. “Kill it!”

Gripping one of the fangs in both her hands, she raised it high over her head and brought it down towards the mouth of the cup.

“I don’t think so, Hermione.”

She froze in mid-swing, the fang mere inches from touching the cup. Her face went pale at the sound of the voice, familiar yet uncharacteristically sinister, forbidding, and eerily calm and collected.

“Hermione, don’t listen to it! Kill it!” Ron pleaded. He moved towards Hermione but a tendril of inky black smoke quickly formed into the head of a basilisk and snapped at Ron menacingly. A pillar of black smoke shot up from the cup and a sneering likeness of Harry seemed to step out from the smoke, his hands in his pockets.

“You know you won’t,” the Horcrux-Harry said mockingly. “You know you can’t, Hermione.” The image crossed its arms defiantly. “Why would you strike down the very person you love?”

Hermione lowered her arms away from the cup slowly, her body completely powerless and rooted to the ground. “It’s not true…” she breathed.

Horcrux-Harry snorted derisively and shook his head. “Why do you lie to yourself like that, Hermione?” He moved closer to her. “You know all too well that it’s true. You love him because he accepted you that first day on your way to Hogwarts.” The image angled his head and pouted in a mocking frown. “Poor Hermione Granger, silly little Mudblood that doesn’t know anyone, doesn’t realize that she doesn’t belong.”

Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. “No!” she shouted vehemently. “It’s not true! None of it is true!”

“Come on, Hermione!” Ron pleaded. “Stab it!”

“Shut your mouth, you pathetic excuse for a half-blood squib!” Horcrux-Harry shouted, not taking his eyes off Hermione. “Why do you listen to Weasley? You know that it’s all true.” The image dropped slowly to one knee. “When Ron left, who gave his all to cheer you up? When that meddlesome strumpet Lavender was busy snogging Ron, who gave you his shoulder to cry on?” The malevolent grin on the image’s face grew to a full-fledged smile full of menace. “Every time that red-haired halfwit brings you down with his incompetence, who was there to pick up the pieces? Hmm?” Horcrux-Harry pressed a hand over hers. “…And now, you’re going to kill me?”

“St-st-stop it…” she stammered.

“Don’t deny what you truly feel, Hermione,” Horcrux-Harry said, saying her name in a silky whisper. “You know that you can’t bring yourself to kill me. Why? Because you know I’ll never forgive you if you do.” The ghostly hand on hers moved up to touch her cheek. “Why? Because I’ll hate you forever. You won’t kill me because Harry Potter will never allow you to do it.”

Harry watched as something snapped in her, her grip on the fang tightened and she lifted her arms quickly and smashed it down into the bottom of the cup. A high, raspy scream cried out from the cup, and the smoke started to dissipate. The likeness of Harry formed weakly.

“The real Harry knows me,” she said bitterly, her entire body shaking. “He would never tell me what I’m allowed or not allowed to do.”

The Horcrux-Harry shook his head and reached into her chest, and she felt her heart grow cold.

“I…” She felt the cold grip of the image’s hand tighten around her heart. “…I could never love a…Mudblood…” The epithet trailed off as light gray smoke brushed her cheeks. The cold she felt inside her dissipated almost immediately.

“Hermione, you did it!” Ron shouted frantically, kneeling in front of her and pulling her into a tight embrace. Completely devoid of emotion, tears streamed down her cheeks. The weight of the image’s last words crashed through her nerve and she held Ron tightly, her body shaking violently as she sobbed helplessly…


* * * * *


Harry threw his head up from the Pensieve and fell over, fighting the urge to vomit. The revelations threatened to overwhelm him and he grabbed his chest, breathing heavily.

“Mister Potter?” the Headmistress called out, kneeling to steady Harry and help him up. “Are you all right, Harry?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, Professor.” He choked down the lump in his throat. “I…I have to talk to Hermione.”


=[ End of Recollections III ]=


A/N: Well, that's that for that chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. As always reviews and concrit are always welcome. Thanks for reading and I'll see you next time!