Escape ↣ Harmione

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter 32 - A Holiday and Coming of Age

It was the day after Harry found her in the study room. He took her pen away from her, spun her chair to face him and tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. "You didn't tell me, you didn't wake me. Why not? Why am I the last one to find out and not because you told me?"

"I didn't want you to think less of me," Hermione's voice was small, and it made him feel no better.

"Why would I? Why would I think less of you because you are smart enough to make something I can think up but have no real clue if it's possible or not," he asked confused.

"Because they are singularly awful?"

"They were my idea. Does that mean that I'm awful? No one else wanted these made but me. The Order doesn't use anything like it and until I came up with the idea you'd not thought of it. So why are you more awful than me? I thought we were a team?"

"We are! But ideas have never hurt anybody. Actions, turning ideas into reality hurt people. I did that. Not you."

"You've not hurt anyone, and you're not a monster," he said firmly.

"Is there anything Mum didn't tell you?" she replied looking shamefaced.

"Not really, I don't think she thought you'd kept it from me. I don't want you to keep stuff like this from me. It makes me feel like you don't trust me to be there for you. I'm here."

She shrugged one shoulder. "It's a bit like when everyone found out you were a parselmouth. I didn't want everyone to look at me with suspicion and fear."

"It's me, Hermione! If you can cope with the supposed heir of Slytherin, I can deal with the witch who might turn the tide of the war. It would be more than I've done."

"Fighting Tom for the last five years no longer counts?" she asked.

"I had help. You. You took something, an idea, a concept and made it. It's amazing, Hermione. You can be proud of that."

"Couldn't it have been something better?" she asked sadly. "Something that brought joy and happiness?"

"Maybe next time it will be. Maybe you'll cure cancer."

"Do magical people get cancer?"

"I don't know, I don't really know that many magical people. Anyway, you're changing the subject, just because you made them doesn't mean it's the only thing you'll make. You've done the glamour rings."

"I'm sorry. That I didn't tell you," Hermione said reaching for Harry's hand. "I'm not sure how I feel about them."

He pulled her into a hug. "Tell me next time. Wake me. Let me come with you I'll even climb the tree as well."

0o0o0o0o0o0

John and Helen came into the study room at the end of the week, grinning and clutching on to each other. Harry noticed them and threw a small ball of paper at Hermione to get her attention. It landed next to the other ten he'd flicked at her over the last hour. She'd been deeply engrossed in her spells, scribbling notes, muttering to herself and flicking through the reference books piled five deep on her desk. Not one of his balls had broken her concentration, and he'd given it up. This one didn't break it either, so he pulled himself to his feet, walked around to her side of the desks and nudged her hard enough for her to move sideways half a foot. Her pen skidded across her equation causing her head to shoot up, a scowl on her features. The scowl melted away at the sight of her parents.

"Oh, err how long was I…?"

"About an hour, but John and Helen have only just arrived," Harry supplied.