The Wand of Ravenclaw

The Tapestry Unravelled

Harry sat upstairs alone for over an hour dwelling on the reminder Hermione's thoughtless words had brought to his mind. The realisation that the task before him belonged to he alone had been pushed back, covered by the false hope being intimate with Hermione had generated. He had almost forgotten the words of the prophecy, almost started to believe that he could defy destiny and weave others into aiding him in the final confrontation with Voldemort. Somehow with Hermione's stark reminder that he had no parents to shoulder the burden, the awful truth was once again at the forefront of his thoughts.

Not that he was really that angry with Hermione, he just wanted to make a point with her. The tactic, he knew, could backfire badly but he was assured enough of the strength of his relationship with Hermione to risk upsetting her a little to make her understand certain things. He hadn't expected her to use his orphan status as a reason for him not understanding her, but he had to try and make her see the value of prudence and thought, even when the emotion of certain situations could carry you away. This was the reason, he thought, that she had told her parents about their dealings with the Horcruxes, for he was certain she wouldn't have been so open about it with anyone else, especially another from the magical community. Harry feared what he considered Hermione's 'Muggle naivety;' that she somehow thought her parents were safe and free from it all. Harry, who felt he knew Voldemort's mind much better than Hermione, thought they were in more danger than most.

So he sat and stewed. This period lasted much longer than he expected; Hermione usually wasn't the type to let him be alone with his thoughts, especially if they painted her in a negative light. There was, of course, the possibility that she felt she had crossed the line this time and Harry tried not to think of her sitting alone in the kitchen crying with the guilt of it all. The thought made Harry feel about as bad as his imaginary Hermione was. But he was determined not to cave in and go to her; he needed her badly, but she had to keep her promise to do as he said, the first rule of which was to avoid unnecessary risks. So far she wasn't keeping her part of the bargain.

It was just as a resistance to his determination was beginning to form that Harry heard the handle to the living room door creak down. Hermione walked in slowly, sheepishly, her face pale but her eyes sorrowful rather than red and puffy. If she had been crying, Harry thought, it had passed a long while ago. She looked up at him uncertainly; she looked so sorry for herself, so pitiful with regret that Harry lost all his will to be steely with her.

'Don't say it,' he said as Hermione made to speak. 'I know you're sorry, I know you didn't mean it, and I forgave you the moment you said it.'

A hint of a smile crossed Hermione's face as part of her sorrowful veil lifted. She made her way across the room to Harry and sat at the foot of his chair, hugging his hand and resting against his legs. For a few moments they simply sat like that and said nothing.

'Oh, Harry I just have to say it,' said Hermione suddenly, sounding rather desperate. 'I'll just die of shame if I don't apologise. I was so thoughtless, so stupid. I was caught up in my own things and I just blurted it out. I didn't mean it.'

'I already said I know you didn't,' said Harry, smirking at the frantic look in Hermione's eyes.

'It was just about the most horrid thing I could have said,' Hermione cried. She stood up and began pacing about. 'I don't know what got into me. I can't believe I even mentioned anything about what we're doing to my parents. It's like I've learned nothing important in all these years. There could have been spies somewhere, like when we had that first DA meeting in the Hogs Head, remember? Or someone could have intercepted my letter and Polyjuiced mum and dad. Oh, dear...'

Hermione flopped down into the chair opposite Harry looking horrified and exhausted. Secretly Harry agreed with most of what she'd said but he had learned enough about pacifying people to know that know wasn't the moment to voice his agreement.