Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everyone! I know that many of you expected me to add on to my 'Hunger Games' fanfic, but I thought I'd give Harry Potter a try first. Hope you enjoy it, and don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 1**

Hermione was crying again. He wasn't exactly surprised, but he still felt a fresh wave of guilt flood through him. It had been he, Harry, who was mostly responsible for Ron's absence. Sure, Ron had been a royal git, but Harry knew he shouldn't have reacted the way he had; it would have been better for him and Hermione if Ron was still there, even just for company, git or no git.

Harry sunk down on his bunk, exhausted, and watched as Hermione dragged her sleeve across her nose and picked up '_The Tales of Beedle the Bard_'. Her eyes were puffy and red and Harry couldn't help but notice that they weren't focusing at all on the book before her. She seemed to stare at the runes uncomprehendingly.

Ever since Ron had walked out on them a week earlier, Hermione had lost the majority of her positivity, and even her intellect seemed to be suffering. She made only half-hearted attempts to come up with new ideas of places where Dumbledore may have left the sword of Gryffindor, and Harry felt that even if she had been trying, their conversations wouldn't go anywhere. They seemed to be running in circles like Sirius when he had chased his tail…when he had still been alive…

The pain that came with thinking about Sirius burdened his guilty conscience further. Despite what others may say, he knew deep down that if he had just studied Occlumency harder, if he had just realized that Voldemort was tricking him…But he was just too lousy at Occlumency, and Voldemort was just too powerful. A black cloud seemed to be hanging over the tent, obliterating what little optimism and determination he and Hermione had still had prior to Ron's absence.

"Harry?" Her voice was soft and strained. He looked up at her and smiled weakly to encourage her to go on.

"Things will get – get better." She seemed to be forcing the words out in an effort to convince herself rather than him. But still, Harry found her attempt to make him cheerier a noble thing to do, far nobler than driving Ron out of their lives.

"They will," replied Harry with all the confidence he had managed to muster up. "It has to."

Hermione nodded weakly and drew her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees and burying her face in the storybook. All that Harry could see of her head was the top of her bushy brown hair. It was so messy and wild, yet somehow Hermione managed to keep it clean. It looked perfect despite its crazy edge. Harry smiled dismally to himself; when the time comes that you use your best friend's hair as a metaphor for finding order and hope in the midst of chaos, you know things are bad.

Rain began to splatter the roof of the tent, growing harder and louder as the night wore on. Harry found it oddly comforting; the rhythm seemed to put things in focus for him.

He still had Hermione.

They still had a mission.

They were still together.

Rolling over on to his side, he observed Hermione as she marked her page and left the main area of the tent, only to return ten minutes later in flannel pajamas and with her hair up in a messy bun.

"Going to bed?" He asked, breaking the silence between them that he had come to grow accustomed to.

Hermione gave a small nod and lowered herself onto her cot. Ever since Ron had left, Hermione had taken to pulling the flimsy cot closer and closer into the middle of the tent, as if worried that something would penetrate their Disillusionment charms in the middle of the night and slice open the side. She pulled the covers up past her chin, facing Harry and searching his face with tired eyes.

The rain pounded on, driving little bits of determination back into Harry's freezing core drop by drop. He felt like the rain barrel Hagrid had set up outside his hut to catch extra water in: he found himself filling up with newfound hope and a renewed desire.

Hermione had shut her eyes; her lids twitched now and then as Harry observed. Wishing he had the deluminator so he wouldn't have to get up to turn out the light (Hermione probably knew a spell for that), he rolled out of bed and stumbled blearily across the room. Only after the light went out did he here the whimper.

"Lumos," Harry muttered, directing his wand at Hermione. "Hermione?"

"H-H-Harry?"

His wand light had illuminated Hermione, curled tightly into the fetal position with her arms wrapped around her legs. Her solitary blanket had fallen uselessly to the floor. She wasn't looking at him; she didn't have to.

In two large strides Harry was next to her cot, kneeling down on the floor.

"What's the matter?"

Hermione lifted a shaking hand to brush a loose tendril of hair from her face, and Harry acted instinctively; he caught her hand and held it tightly in his own. The thin white scars seemed to stand out and flash against his pale skin.

Clutching her hand as though it were a lifeline, Harry went on, "Tell me how you're really doing. No more of this _'I'm fine'_ nonsense. I know you're not, and I don't have a problem with that."

Still refusing to make eye contact with him, Hermione made a small sighing noise that was barely audible amidst the noise of the wind shaking the tent and the rain beating mercilessly against its roof.

"Can you p-please fetch me m-my bag, Harry?" She whispered.

Pleased to make himself of use, Harry Summoned the bag and handed it to her, careful not to lose grip of her hand. Using her only free hand, Hermione pulled her wand out from under her pillow and muttered, "Accio '_A History of Magic'_".

There was a scuffling noise from inside the bag followed by a loud _thud_ as the massive book landed next to Hermione on the mattress. She carefully withdrew her hand from his grip and began to leaf through the pages.

"What are you looking for?" Harry couldn't help but hope she had come up with some marvelous idea.

"No, no, I just like to look at it," she replied. "It reminds me of Hogwarts. This is what I did every night before going to sleep." She smiled wistfully. "Lavendar and Parvati didn't appreciate the extra light much."

Harry couldn't help himself; he grinned. For a moment, it had been like the old Hermione was back.

"Do you want me to turn the light back on?"

"No, no," Hermione said, waving him off. "You probably want to go to sleep. I won't bother you anymore." She made an odd sniveling noise that was clearly meant to hide a sniffle.

"You aren't bothering me. I'm grateful that you're still here, Hermione. I thought, well, I thought-"

"That I'd have left by now?" Hermione interjected, snorting quietly. "Fat chance. I have a conscience, Harry. I'm not just going to leave you to face Vol-, well, You Know Who, all on your own. Don't think I'm going to leave, please. You have enough to worry about already."

Harry felt slightly overwhelmed with relief and gratitude. He didn't stop himself when he felt the urge to reach out and wrap his arms around Hermione's tense shoulders.

She said nothing, but her hands went still. Eventually, they found their way around Harry's neck where they stayed.

In that moment, Harry felt a sense of warmth spread through him that made him feel as though he'd never be cold again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Harry wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but in what seemed like mere seconds, Hermione's hands went limp and her breathing steadied. Taking extra care not to stir her, Harry extricated himself from her loose embrace, laid her arms down by her sides and threw the blanket over her huddled shape.

"Nox," he whispered, pulling off his shirt and flopping onto his own mattress. Yes, he felt relieved, but he also felt more tired than ever. The road before him seemed long and windy and full of obstacles that seemed insurmountable, one of them being Ron's absence. But Hermione wasn't going to leave him. He felt a little less lonely than he had during the previous days, but he also felt worried about Hermione's safety. Things were going to get even more dangerous, and now he'd have to look after one more…

He had to do his best to make sure she wasn't hurt, or worse, killed.

Just as Harry felt his lids begin to droop of their own accord, he heard Hermione mumbling in her sleep.

"Ron…_Ron…_no, no, NO…come back…Harry…"

Harry went rigid, hardly daring to breathe.

"Harry…," Hermione mumbled again, "Stay…stay with me…please, don't go!...NO!" Now she was thrashing around, her head flying back and forth on the pillow, her hair falling out of its bun and fanning out over her arms. "Don't'…don't! Don't hurt him! …NO!"

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He shoved his wand in his pants' pocket and crossed the room once more, absently wondering why he and Hermione hadn't set up a watch schedule for that night. Maybe they were just too tired. Or maybe they didn't even care anymore.

Fighting the impulse to go sit in front of the tent and keep look out in order to protect Hermione, he pulled back her blanket and smoothed the hair away from her face. She seemed to sense his presence even in her slumber and immediately fell still. Harry then eased himself down on the on the cot next to her, placed one arm over her sleeping figure and closed his eyes.

Yes, it was cramped.

Yes, Harry thought he would fall right off the cot twice.

And yes, Harry fell into a dreamless sleep for the first time in ages.

"Harry? Harry!"

Harry's head was aching and his eyes felt like they were glued shut. He forced them open wide enough to squint up at the person standing over him.

"Hermione?" He pushed himself into a sitting position only to have a book fall on his head.

"Oh! Sorry," Hermione moaned, picking up 'A History of Magic' from Harry's lap and shoving it roughly into her beaded bag. "I was practicing this new levitation thing and then I forgot it when the kettle started to whistle…oh, never-mind that, is your head okay?"

Harry rubbed the throbbing lump on his temple and forced his eyes the rest of the way open. The sunlight outside had penetrated the tent, leaving the interior warm and bright.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He suddenly felt disoriented. Why was the table on that side of his bed? Had Hermione moved it? Wait…why was his bed over there?

"Hermione-" he began, puzzled, but she cut in.

"Yes, Harry. You're in my bed."

Harry felt his eyes widen involuntarily. "Oh! I'm – I'm sorry, really sorry, uh…" Feeling unbelievably awkward, Harry got shakily to his feet only to realize he was shirtless.

Hermione covered her mouth, her eyes crinkled up. "Oh, Harry…" Then she laughed.

Shaking his head in embarrassment, Harry picked up yesterday's shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. "Uh…should I go find breakfast? Or make it or something?" He was studiously trying to avoid eye contact with Hermione as he stood, fidgety, by the kitchen sink.

Hermione was still smiling, Harry noticed when he risked a look at her out of his peripheral vision. "Actually, we have some potatoes left from last night. I can probably fry them." She strode towards him, and Harry quickly darted out of her way.

"Uh, okay. Sure. Yeah. I'll go, uh, watch outside for-"

"Oh Harry, please don't." Hermione was looking at him very hard now, and Harry sat nervously down on his bunk. What had he done, sleeping in her bed without her permission? It had been a stupid thing to do. He never had been good with girls.

"I'm not upset," she said decisively.

Harry kinked his neck in his rush to look up at her. "You aren't? I mean, I shouldn't have presumed…" He trailed off yet again at a loss for words.

Hermione pushed herself away from the counter and strode towards Harry's bunk. "You presumed right."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

Hermione went on. "You're my best friend, Harry. I don't mind. I couldn't. It was a really sweet gesture."

Harry nodded mutely.

"If you don't mind my asking, what made you do it?"

"You were talking in you sleep," Harry mumbled to his feet. "You seemed scared, you kept saying…"

"Saying what?" Hermione prompted gently.

"My name," Harry answered. "Well Ron's, then mine."

Hermione nodded, understanding dawning on her face. "I was having a nightmare. I don't remember exactly what was happening, I woke up only briefly after you had, you know. It was Snape. He had you, he was going to kill you, Ron was already d-dead." Tears began to pour down her cheeks but no sob escaped her lips.

"You woke me up when you got in," she went on a moment later after steadying herself. "I can't even tell you how relieved I felt, to have you so close."

"Well I suppose that's good," said Harry lamely.

Hermione laughed, slicing through the tension and chopping it to bits. "Can I ask you something, Harry? I understand if you don't want to, though."

"Anything," Harry replied immediately.

"Do it again."

"Do what?" Harry looked at Hermione's determined face and followed the tear tracks down her cheeks and on to her sweater…

"Sleep with – I mean, in the same bed as - me again. Tonight." Now it was Hermione's turn to look awkward and unsettled; she began to study the drawstrings of her sweater with much interest.

Harry didn't expect warmth to flood through him at Hermione's request, and he certainly didn't expect his sudden need to be close to her. But he did know exactly how to answer her.

"Of course."

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the alerts, favorites and reviews! And if you haven't reviewed yet, please do! Sorry that this chapter is a little shorter; the coming chapters will be longer :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The rest of the morning went off without incident, and when the time came to move locations, Harry found himself in a better mood than he had been in in months. Hermione, too, was a tad brighter and Harry even caught her humming absently to herself while packing up the tent. The outlook had suddenly grown much cheerier.

Hermione took them to a snowy hillside littered with evergreen trees. A frozen pond could be found nearby, and the clearing where they set up the tent seemed well hidden and very private. Harry quite enjoyed the sound of the winter birds as they chirped to each other. It put him in an even better mood that was only improved when Hermione offered to cast the Disillusionment charms like her old self. While she worked, he sat just inside the edge of their little protective sphere and watched the birds fly from tree to tree, hopping through the snow every now and then, completely innocent and devoid of any burdens.

"Harry, do you want to go into town?" Hermione called from behind him. He turned to see the tent already set up and Hermione peeking out at him from behind the flap. Her bushy hair had been pulled back into a high ponytail and she was smiling.

"For food," she added hastily. "The cloak is right here."

Harry considered for a moment. "Where are we, Hermione?"

She shrugged. "I came camping here a long time ago with my grandparents. I don't even remember what it's called, but I know there's a little town on the other side of the hill. It probably has a supermarket."

"I'll go," said Harry, immediately standing up and taking the cloak out of Hermione's hand.

"I'm going, too," she said, getting up and looking into his eyes. Harry felt a sudden desire to get closer to her, but dismissed it as his protective instincts, or maybe just the cold.

"No. It's too dangerous. Remember that time with the Dementors? Just let me go. I'll pick up some vegetables and canned fruit, we need better, er, nutrition."

"Oh, please," sighed Hermione. "Nutrition? When have you ever cared about that? I'm going, so you can either come with me or stay behind." Then, with one swift motion, she ripped the cloak out of his hands and stalked to the edge of their bubble.

"But if neither of us stay behind, how will we find this place again?"

"I've taken care of it," said Hermione with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We'll be able to find it, trust me."

"Will anyone else be able to?"

"I doubt it." With that, Hermione stepped across the invisible barrier and threw the cloak over herself, in the process disappearing from Harry's sight.

In a moment of panic, Harry thought she'd Disaparated without him. "Hermione?"

"I'm right here," came her voice from a little ways into the clearing.

"Fine, I'm coming," Harry said grudgingly, and with one fleeting look behind him at the tent, he joined Hermione under the cloak.

It was warm underneath the silvery fabric and Harry could feel Hermione's breath on his cheek. It sent tingles down his spine.

"Ready?"

Harry felt jolted back to reality. "Uh, yeah."

Hermione took his hand, gave it a squeeze that set Harry's insides on fire and then they were being suffocated by the world around them…

"Here we are," whispered Hermione once the world had leveled out and Harry could see straight again. Before them was a quaint village, the epitome of coziness. Harry realized that it reminded him terribly of Hogsmeade and felt the air get knocked out of him as though he had been punched.

"Let's go," said Harry, trying to force air back into his lungs. Moving slowly to prevent the cloak from falling off, they set off down the street. Within minutes, he could smell the rich scent of baking bread, tantalizing his senses and driving all thoughts of Hogsmeade from his mind.

"Can we?" He asked Hermione.

"Sure." She stopped abruptly and Harry almost walked right out from under the cloak. "Here's some muggle money," she said, digging around in her beaded bag and pulling out a handful of coins that Harry recognized from all those Saturdays when Uncle Vernon had handed a large amount over to Dudley for an 'allowance'. What Dudley did that deserved an allowance, Harry never knew. He just assumed that it was the fact that Dudley existed.

They carefully edged their way into the Bakery, and when a large group of bundled-up shoppers blocked the cashier from view, Harry reached out a hand from under the cloak and grabbed two loaves of bread off the shelf.

"Mommy!" a little girl nearby suddenly cried. Tugging on her mother's skirt and pointing in Harry and Hermione's direction, she yelled, "That bread just disappeared! Poof!"

Hermione looked wide-eyed at Harry, who stopped breathing. But to their immense relief, the mother didn't even look. Instead, she continued rummaging around in her purse while saying, "Oh did it? How nice." And that was the end of that. With one more curious look in their direction, the little girl followed her mother into line.

"Quick," Hermione mumbled, almost tripping over her feet as she led Harry towards the exit. On their way out, she tossed a handful of coins behind the cashier, who looked down and shook his head.

"Why do I keep dropping the change?" he said to himself, and with a huge breath of relief, Harry emerged into the frosty air.

"I want to go," Hermione said. Harry looked over at her and saw that she was trembling. His heart ached.

"Yeah, sure."

Hermione nodded shakily, took Harry's hand tightly in her own, and Disaparated.

When they arrived back on the hill, Harry saw a scarf tied around a tree nearby.

"Hermione," he said anxiously, holding the cloak down over them when Hermione tried to yank it off. "That wasn't there when we left."

"Yes it was," she insisted. "I put it there. Watch." She pulled the cloak over her head, leaving it hanging over Harry and approached the scarf. She drew her wand and said something under her breath, touched the scarf and then grinned. Then she took a step to the side and disappeared.

Harry made his way over to the scarf, but before he reached it, a hand came out of nowhere and tugged him roughly so that he had to catch himself before toppling to the forest floor. And there, before him, was the tent.

"I'm just going to take down the scarf," Hermione said, and she reappeared at his side a moment later with it wrapped around her neck.

"Brilliant," Harry said faintly. Their simple journey had been taxing.

"I'm going to make tea," Hermione declared, and she left him alone in the snow.

As Harry laid there on his back and felt the snow melting into his hair, he pictured Hermione inside the tent busying herself with the tea. This image was closely followed by one of Hermione reading '_The Tales of Beedle the Bard'_ in her cot, biting her chapped lip like she usually did. Then he saw himself walking right up to her and –

_No_, Harry chastised himself. He couldn't go there. If he drove Hermione away, he had no one left. Plus, she was his best friend. He couldn't risk losing her.

But still, he felt a pleasant sensation move through him from head to feet, and that wasn't something he could prevent.

In an effort to distract himself, Harry stood up, stretched, and walked around the perimeter of the tent. Dusk was already approaching; the sky was darkening and the sun was no longer visible over the trees. A chilly wind ate at Harry's skin.

"Harry!" Hermione called. "Tea's ready!"

Harry was about to join Hermione in the tent when he heard a snap followed by ominous crunching noises nearby. He froze. Hermione had come outside to see what was wrong and stopped in the entrance to the tent, her lips pressed together in a tight line.

"Damn, the radio isn't working," said a gruff voice, and to Harry's horror, two men entered the clearing mere inches from where Hermione had cast the Disillusionment charms.

"We're in the middle of nowhere," the other man, tall and thick but with a calming voice, said. "Of course it doesn't work!"

The first man, the one with the beard, pulled out a wand and began to frantically tap the top of a small portable radio. Harry inhaled sharply and glanced back at Hermione. The cup of tea in her hand was shaking, slopping some of the brown liquid over the sides and into the snow.

The second man began to mutter something, and a blue flame appeared, hovering over the ground and casting an agitated light across the snow. The flame was the same portable fire Hermione was so good at conjuring.

"Should we set up camp here, Madyn?" The second asked the bearded.

"Nah, I don't like all this snow. It's too blank," replied Madyn shiftily. "Let's just keep moving, 'aight?" He pulled a jar from the inside of his jacket and used it to scoop up the flame.

The two men began to walk again, but just short of the clearing, the taller man shouted, "Wait! I see footprints!"

Harry heard Hermione gasp. He looked at her, and saw that she had a hand covering her mouth. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn't dare to breathe, let alone move.

"Yeah, so what?" said Madyn irritably.

"Snatchers?" Asked the taller one. "If we get cornered by another gang of them, we're done for."

Madyn sighed audibly. "Well we won't be if we keep moving. Let's just get out of here. We don't want to give them the satisfaction of turning in two unregistered muggle-borns."

"Okay, okay," replied the other, and they were off. Neither Harry nor Hermione made a move until the crunching of the snow beneath the men's feet was far out of ear shot.

"Oh Harry," she whispered, running over to him and throwing her arms around his neck. "For a moment there I thought we'd be caught…"

Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and held her. "I know. But they're gone. And they weren't Death Eaters or snatchers."

Hermione nodded. "I wonder how many of them – I mean, muggle-borns – have run for it."

"The majority, if they're smart," replied Harry, flinching as a picture of Hermione being interrogated in the Ministry for stealing magic filled his mind.

Hermione pulled away and walked back over to the mouth of the tent, leaning over and picking up a discarded teacup as she went. "I suppose we should have some supper," she said.

"Yeah, I suppose so." Harry took one last look around the clearing and followed Hermione into the tent.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! And things will be getting more exciting very quickly ;)**


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Harry Potter, Hurt-Comfort, Romance