Making sure the boy who lives, actually does...
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
25
Views:
9,118
Reviews:
99
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
25
Views:
9,118
Reviews:
99
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 1: Making sure the boy who lives, actually does...
NOTE: To all of you preparing to read this chapter, keep in mind that this is a SS/HG story, but I needed the first chapter to be from Harry\'s POV. Worry not, it probably won\'t occur in the story often. cheers. holden.
_____________________________
Chapter 1: The Boy who Lived
Harry Potter looked out from behind his round glasses to his dingy room at Privet Drive and offered a small, wistful sigh to no one in particular. To any outsider they\'d believe the now seventeen-year-old boy looked mildly depressed, unnatural they\'d think, considering it was his birthday.
It was indeed Harry\'s birthday, and tomorrow would begin another long year at the Dursley\'s and at Hogwarts until his eighteenth birthday in which he would be free. Free to live a life he wanted without the suffocating confines of his \'caregivers\'. It was this thought that finally dragged his lean body out of bed as he yawned, stretching a bit until a satisfying popping sound emitted from his back.
He looked out the window of his room, seeing Hedwig gently tapping at the window. He went to it, opening it with a sudden glow about his face. His friends never forgot about him, no matter what. Hedwig looked exhausted and fluttered over to Harry’s bed dropping several large parcels.
“You’ve been busy.” Harry said to his pet, nuzzling her feather’s a moment before placing her back in her cage. She made a soft sound in response, watching Harry a moment before falling into a light sleep. Harry smiled and went back to the parceopenopening the first card.
Hey Harry,
Romania’s so fun, you wouldn’t believe it! Mum’s keeping an extra close eye on Dad during these trips, she’s sure he’s going to get stitches again! I wanted to felly-tone…er….telly-phone you this week, but Dad insists it would be a bad idea. Anyway I gotta go, Fred and George are threatening to pound me if I don’t hurry and come with them to the market. I hope you like your present, it’s from all of us!
Ron
P.s. Don’t let the Muggles get you down!
Harry tore open the present to reveal a large box, inside it, which were millions upon millions of gags from Fred and George’s shop. Harry laughed at the miscellaneous items, picking them up and looking at the random gags. There were sneezing saucers, Blotto blips and so much more, it was almost overwhelming.
Deciding that he shouldn’t waste all of his presents now he placed the box aside and reached for the other parcels strewn on his bed. He looked to the cakes that had been sent and smiled softly; Hermione and Hagrid and had sent them over after hearing of Dudley\'s reinstated diet. The boy was looking more and more like a giant killer whale now, and thankfully had remained out of Harry\'s hair for the duration of the summer. Hermione had also sent him a book on famous Quidditch captains, which he eagerly set aside to read later on.
A rumbling in his stomach made his attention draw to the sweets that had been sent to him. He opened one of the cake packages, Hermione\'s, and before he dipped his finger into the icing he read the message in flowing red candied letters.
To the boy who lived. Happy 17th Birthday. May all your wishes come true!
Harry nodded to the cake as if conversing with it. It was true he had some freedom. He was even freer that he\'d been a few months before hand, and this should have cheered him up but it didn\'t.
Voldemort\'s death had been at his very s ins in his sixth year, it was he whom had administered the final blow, and it was he that had been the hero. He could still see Snape\'s glowering face as Harry was hoisted upon shoulders and carried through the Great Hall.
He did feel a small sense of pity for the hook-nosed, greasy git for it had been Snape\'s minimal lessons on Occulmency that had aided him in the most trying points of the battle between he and Voldemort. All of Dumbledore\'s Army had had a hand in the Dark lord\'s demise, and it was true cause for celebration. In all honestly Harry would have gladly given credit over to Snape but found he wasn\'t sure Snape would really want what he would surely describe as; \'second-rate glory\'.
So Harry had been the boy wonder for another end of term, and surely when he returned would be praised to no end. Dumbledore would give that trademark raised glass and wink, McGonagall would give her stern smile, Snape would...well sneer, Ron would talk about Quidditch and Hermione would study. Things would be the same.
He absentlffleffled the dark hair atop his head although a bit stuck out at the back, just as his father\'s before him had, letting it rest in a small curtain before his eyes, thankfully covering the tell-tale scar.
It wasn\'t that Harry wasn\'t overjoyed at the prospect of another year at Hogwart\'s, Voldemort free, it was perhaps the fact that ever since the final battle and the begging of summer he had been utterly down. Could it have been worry of N.E.W.T.S? No, this was something that would surely afflict Hermione Granger, not himself. He was indeed thrilled at the prospect of another year of Quidditch, and he supposed he was just a little melancholy at his inevitable departure of Hogwarts.
Was that the cause of this suffocating darkness? Is this what caused the empty gap within him those nights? No. Surely not anything so trivial could cause him this heartache. It had all started when he\'d gone to the Weasley\'s for a fortnight at the end of term, delaying his time with the Dursley\'s all he could. He would have stayed longer if it weren\'t for their family venture to Romania, and even though they\'d offered Harry to come he’d declined politely, knowing full well he wasn\'t a Weasley.
Family. He walked casually over to the album Hagrid had given him his first year, the one collection of his parent\'s that he had. He opened its first page, glancing at the waving figures of his parents as they held an infant and smiling Harry. Harry felt the tears well up in the back of his eyes but quickly dismissed them with a flick of the page.
There was another of his parents, looking at each other with looks of admiration whilst in a soft embrace. Harry often looked to this one over the years, knowing full well that the image before him was one of total undeniable love. He supposed that\'s why Cho had never really done it for him, he could never imagine loving her as much as his father had loved his mother.
What seemed like minutes went by when in truth they were hours, Harry went through each and every image before him, smiling and laughing when he came across those including a mischievous looking James and Sirius. They must have been worse than Fred and George, (No wait...was that possible?) and Harry found himself longing to be included in their mischief.
There was one he didn\'t care to look at all that often, and strangely enough it was one quite comical. It was one of James, Sirius and Lupin all making odd faces into the camera, surely it had been their seventh year. It wasn\'t Sirius\' death that made him skip over the picture though, nor was it his father\'s. Harry almost felt like he was looking at his own doppelganger when he gazed in that picture, but that\'s not what deterred him.
What did turn Harry off from the picture was faintly in the bright background stood a lone figure stood with arms crossed sneering at the trio with disdain. It didn\'t take him long to note that it was a teenage Severus glaring at his father with such hate and whenever Harry came across that certain picture, he was sure to pass over it quite quickly.
Soon the album was over and Harry was slightly happier, more of a spring in his steps as he reveled in the knowledge that he was seventeen now, almost a grown up, almost eighteen like Hermione. With a small chuckle he pulled on some clothing thinking that it seemed only right that Hermione was older via her time turner, she was after all more mature than Harry and Ron, even when she was eleven.
\"Well then,\" he said to himself with a subconscious ruffle at his hair. \"What to do first?\"
The possibilities were endless.:
1.) Chores.
2.) Sit quietly in his room.
3.) Write to his friends.
All of these options seemed a little dull to him at this current moment, and he went for another swipe at his cake\'s delicious chocolate icing, looking withor tor to the slightly sloppy message one last time.
May all your wishes come true...
Harry scoffed openly at this, shaking his dark head in response. I only have one wish Hermione...I want my parent\'s back.
The icing hadn\'t even made its way to his lips when he stopped. It was then like a shock from a thunderbolt like the one he wore on his head as it came to him. He knew what he wanted to do, he knew what had been ailing him, he knew what would make his last and final year at Hogwart\'s something to remember.
He would get his parents back.
_____________________________
Chapter 1: The Boy who Lived
Harry Potter looked out from behind his round glasses to his dingy room at Privet Drive and offered a small, wistful sigh to no one in particular. To any outsider they\'d believe the now seventeen-year-old boy looked mildly depressed, unnatural they\'d think, considering it was his birthday.
It was indeed Harry\'s birthday, and tomorrow would begin another long year at the Dursley\'s and at Hogwarts until his eighteenth birthday in which he would be free. Free to live a life he wanted without the suffocating confines of his \'caregivers\'. It was this thought that finally dragged his lean body out of bed as he yawned, stretching a bit until a satisfying popping sound emitted from his back.
He looked out the window of his room, seeing Hedwig gently tapping at the window. He went to it, opening it with a sudden glow about his face. His friends never forgot about him, no matter what. Hedwig looked exhausted and fluttered over to Harry’s bed dropping several large parcels.
“You’ve been busy.” Harry said to his pet, nuzzling her feather’s a moment before placing her back in her cage. She made a soft sound in response, watching Harry a moment before falling into a light sleep. Harry smiled and went back to the parceopenopening the first card.
Hey Harry,
Romania’s so fun, you wouldn’t believe it! Mum’s keeping an extra close eye on Dad during these trips, she’s sure he’s going to get stitches again! I wanted to felly-tone…er….telly-phone you this week, but Dad insists it would be a bad idea. Anyway I gotta go, Fred and George are threatening to pound me if I don’t hurry and come with them to the market. I hope you like your present, it’s from all of us!
Ron
P.s. Don’t let the Muggles get you down!
Harry tore open the present to reveal a large box, inside it, which were millions upon millions of gags from Fred and George’s shop. Harry laughed at the miscellaneous items, picking them up and looking at the random gags. There were sneezing saucers, Blotto blips and so much more, it was almost overwhelming.
Deciding that he shouldn’t waste all of his presents now he placed the box aside and reached for the other parcels strewn on his bed. He looked to the cakes that had been sent and smiled softly; Hermione and Hagrid and had sent them over after hearing of Dudley\'s reinstated diet. The boy was looking more and more like a giant killer whale now, and thankfully had remained out of Harry\'s hair for the duration of the summer. Hermione had also sent him a book on famous Quidditch captains, which he eagerly set aside to read later on.
A rumbling in his stomach made his attention draw to the sweets that had been sent to him. He opened one of the cake packages, Hermione\'s, and before he dipped his finger into the icing he read the message in flowing red candied letters.
To the boy who lived. Happy 17th Birthday. May all your wishes come true!
Harry nodded to the cake as if conversing with it. It was true he had some freedom. He was even freer that he\'d been a few months before hand, and this should have cheered him up but it didn\'t.
Voldemort\'s death had been at his very s ins in his sixth year, it was he whom had administered the final blow, and it was he that had been the hero. He could still see Snape\'s glowering face as Harry was hoisted upon shoulders and carried through the Great Hall.
He did feel a small sense of pity for the hook-nosed, greasy git for it had been Snape\'s minimal lessons on Occulmency that had aided him in the most trying points of the battle between he and Voldemort. All of Dumbledore\'s Army had had a hand in the Dark lord\'s demise, and it was true cause for celebration. In all honestly Harry would have gladly given credit over to Snape but found he wasn\'t sure Snape would really want what he would surely describe as; \'second-rate glory\'.
So Harry had been the boy wonder for another end of term, and surely when he returned would be praised to no end. Dumbledore would give that trademark raised glass and wink, McGonagall would give her stern smile, Snape would...well sneer, Ron would talk about Quidditch and Hermione would study. Things would be the same.
He absentlffleffled the dark hair atop his head although a bit stuck out at the back, just as his father\'s before him had, letting it rest in a small curtain before his eyes, thankfully covering the tell-tale scar.
It wasn\'t that Harry wasn\'t overjoyed at the prospect of another year at Hogwart\'s, Voldemort free, it was perhaps the fact that ever since the final battle and the begging of summer he had been utterly down. Could it have been worry of N.E.W.T.S? No, this was something that would surely afflict Hermione Granger, not himself. He was indeed thrilled at the prospect of another year of Quidditch, and he supposed he was just a little melancholy at his inevitable departure of Hogwarts.
Was that the cause of this suffocating darkness? Is this what caused the empty gap within him those nights? No. Surely not anything so trivial could cause him this heartache. It had all started when he\'d gone to the Weasley\'s for a fortnight at the end of term, delaying his time with the Dursley\'s all he could. He would have stayed longer if it weren\'t for their family venture to Romania, and even though they\'d offered Harry to come he’d declined politely, knowing full well he wasn\'t a Weasley.
Family. He walked casually over to the album Hagrid had given him his first year, the one collection of his parent\'s that he had. He opened its first page, glancing at the waving figures of his parents as they held an infant and smiling Harry. Harry felt the tears well up in the back of his eyes but quickly dismissed them with a flick of the page.
There was another of his parents, looking at each other with looks of admiration whilst in a soft embrace. Harry often looked to this one over the years, knowing full well that the image before him was one of total undeniable love. He supposed that\'s why Cho had never really done it for him, he could never imagine loving her as much as his father had loved his mother.
What seemed like minutes went by when in truth they were hours, Harry went through each and every image before him, smiling and laughing when he came across those including a mischievous looking James and Sirius. They must have been worse than Fred and George, (No wait...was that possible?) and Harry found himself longing to be included in their mischief.
There was one he didn\'t care to look at all that often, and strangely enough it was one quite comical. It was one of James, Sirius and Lupin all making odd faces into the camera, surely it had been their seventh year. It wasn\'t Sirius\' death that made him skip over the picture though, nor was it his father\'s. Harry almost felt like he was looking at his own doppelganger when he gazed in that picture, but that\'s not what deterred him.
What did turn Harry off from the picture was faintly in the bright background stood a lone figure stood with arms crossed sneering at the trio with disdain. It didn\'t take him long to note that it was a teenage Severus glaring at his father with such hate and whenever Harry came across that certain picture, he was sure to pass over it quite quickly.
Soon the album was over and Harry was slightly happier, more of a spring in his steps as he reveled in the knowledge that he was seventeen now, almost a grown up, almost eighteen like Hermione. With a small chuckle he pulled on some clothing thinking that it seemed only right that Hermione was older via her time turner, she was after all more mature than Harry and Ron, even when she was eleven.
\"Well then,\" he said to himself with a subconscious ruffle at his hair. \"What to do first?\"
The possibilities were endless.:
1.) Chores.
2.) Sit quietly in his room.
3.) Write to his friends.
All of these options seemed a little dull to him at this current moment, and he went for another swipe at his cake\'s delicious chocolate icing, looking withor tor to the slightly sloppy message one last time.
May all your wishes come true...
Harry scoffed openly at this, shaking his dark head in response. I only have one wish Hermione...I want my parent\'s back.
The icing hadn\'t even made its way to his lips when he stopped. It was then like a shock from a thunderbolt like the one he wore on his head as it came to him. He knew what he wanted to do, he knew what had been ailing him, he knew what would make his last and final year at Hogwart\'s something to remember.
He would get his parents back.