Disclaimer: This story isn't going to be friendly to nearly every character from canon. So be prepared for Ron, Draco, Dumbles, Molly, Ginny etc to bashed. If you don't like that premise leave now.

Author's Note: Special thanks to ProphecyMarauder45 for co-writing this chapter with me and TyrannicPuppy and Rant Queen for beta-ing.

Chapter revised as of April 2020.

Chapter 1: The Bitter Truth

Suspected Death Eaters Found Not Guilty

Eleven prominent members of the British Magical Society were wrongfully accused of being Death Eaters following a small confrontation last month. These eleven wizards have now been freed and cleared of all charges. Questions are being raised as to why a vigilante group—

Harry scowled and flung the paper across the room, not bothering to read the rest of the stupid article.

Of course, they bloody got off. Not enough that Sirius is dead and Hermione nearly murdered… No, they were simply let go scot-free, without so much as a slap on the hand.

He hit his fist on the desk in front of him, hard.

The pain caused him to wince and he sighed, I should've listened to Hermione… She's right. I do have a 'saving-people thing.' If only I had listened, none of this shit would've happened.

He slouched backwards in his seat with a small chuckle, What am I saying, she's almost always right... But she's been wrong before, such as over my Firebolt… but her reasoning was perfectly justified. He knocked his head onto the desk, I'll never forgive myself for that. Shunning her for months on end… when all she was trying to do was protect me.

Harry groaned in pain and took off his glasses before running his hands over his face. The guilt over what happened in the Department of Mysteries hit him once again. It had been happening frequently over the last month.

He couldn't help but blame himself for everything that happened that night.

If only he'd learned Occlumency like he was supposed to; listened to Hermione and realised it was a trap; or trained harder, instead of teaching others basic spells which would prove little help in a real fight.

And what was it all for?

Nothing! he thought furiously, hitting the desk painfully hard with his fist.

"It was all for fucking nothing," spat Harry venomously under his breath.

For all they'd achieved, was a pointless loss of life, while also giving mental and physical scars to others.

For he had lost Sirius… One of the last links to his family. Sirius, who had grown up with his parents and their friends and knew his father better than anyone else. It was so nice to have someone else to be his guardian, who wasn't the Durselys. Someone who didn't expect him to work till he dropped... Someone who loved him unconditionally.

But now he was gone. The only person who he thought had tried to show him 'love,' was gone, by a simple curse that threw him into the 'Veil.' Which left him without his body, his godfatherly love and him without a family… again.

When Sirius offered him the chance to live with him back in third year, it had filled him with so much hope, that when Wormtail escaped that night, he was so angry he could have ripped the rat limb from limb in human form. Despite his godfather being a fugitive, his hope of finally having a loving family, even if it was just him and Sirius, was kept alive while Sirius was around. And now, even that hope had been violently killed along with Sirius.

Family.

It seemed as though family was a concept that Harry Potter, the famous 'Boy-Who-Lived,' did not deserve. For it had always been taken away from him. First by Voldemort, and now Bellatrix.

But he had realised with time, that the blame didn't lie solely on him.

"Dumbledore," spat Harry with distaste. The raven-haired teen had done a lot of thinking over the last month. And it wasn't just the Dursleys who were neglecting him, so too was Dumbledore.

He had never fully thought about it at first, too engrossed with the wizarding world and the escape that it offered.

But he now knew better, Dumbledore was the reason he was sent to the Dursleys. Dumbledore was the reason Quirrelmort was hired as a teacher. Dumbledore was the reason nothing was done about the Basilisk and likely why the professionals were never involved.

Hell, Dumbledore was probably the reason his parents were killed in the first place.

Heck, every year, he had to go on some 'adventure,' because of the old bastard's negligence and incompetence… or maybe even his manipulations.

Harry shook his head in frustration, it would be better to discuss this with another person before making such assumptions. And the only person that came to mind was Hermione.

Hermione.

He started to sniffle and tear up. He wasn't one to let his emotions out, let alone, show them to others. But here he was, beginning to sob.

For there was only one thing worse than Sirius dying that night, and that was Hermione bearly escaping death.

He couldn't comprehend the feelings that went through him when Dolohov silently shot that purple curse at his best friend.

When it had happened, it was as if the world had frozen and everything had stopped.

Everything else was out of focus, except Hermione and the purple light headed towards her. And when the spell splashed across her chest and she let out a simple, 'oh,' it was as if someone had torn his heart out. Like there was anything inside his body but pure and terrifying emptiness.

He'd almost gone into a panic attack right then and there. And if he wasn't fretting over Hermione's state at that moment, he might've attempted his first Killing Curse on Dolohov right there and then, damn the consequences.

But then Neville had told him that she had a pulse, albeit faint, and that she was still alive. That had awoken a spark of life in him, something which moments beforehand, he had thought impossible.

He would apologise, profusely, constantly, every single day until he was satisfied that she understood how truly sorry he was.

Or at least until she demands I stop, thought Harry amused.

His mood turned sombre again as he remembered Hermione's injuries after the incident. She had been in a constant state of pain. Because of her silencing spell, they weren't able to hear the incantation of Dolohov's curse. The spell wasn't something they had previously studied, in fact, no one had ever seen anything like it, which obviously didn't help his mental state nor Hermione's physical one.

Watching her writhe in pain may have felt worse than when he was being prepared for Voldemort's ritual in fourth year. He may not have been experiencing physical pain when watching Hermione, but it certainly felt like it. And he had wished with all his magic that he could take her pain away to stop her suffering due to his idiocy.

But she had recovered, thankfully. While she had told everyone she was fine and that it wasn't his fault, her eyes told another story. He didn't have a chance to apologise to her before he had to leave for Privet Drive.

His worst fear was that she resented him, blamed him, and hated him…

Why wouldn't she? It seems to be the fate of everyone who's claimed to love, care for, or be there for me. Mum, Dad, Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, Ron… Hermione.

But maybe that was for the best… If she hated him, she wouldn't try to help him in his futile fight against Voldemort—the one battle that seemed to depend completely on him, and him alone.

He supposed that one good thing had come out of the DoM disaster—he finally learned the contents of a prophecy concerning both him and Voldemort.

But was that really good thing? All the stupid prophecy had said, was that he—weak, young, and skinny Harry—was destined to defeat the Dark Lord, for 'neither can live while the other survives.'

Now isn't that a wonderful statement, mused Harry miserably.

But even that ended him right back at 'old fool' as he had now deemed him. The entire DoM venture could've been avoided if Dumbledore had done any number of things. One, made it so he didn't take responsibility for the DA, Which was a plain stupid idea.

Two he should've had someone else be there at the OotP headquarters, instead of just Kreacher and Sirius. Seriously, what was he thinking leaving Sirius all alone in that grim old house? He'd already been alone for twelve years of his life stuck in Azkaban for a crime he never committed. Only to be a prisoner again in a house that he hated!

It was little wonder as to why Sirius acted so carelessly and recklessly that night at the Ministry. He had been stuck in that stupid home for months on end, of course, he'd want to have some fun when fighting.

Harry clenched his jaw as anger began to gather towards Sirius. As much as he loved his godfather, Sirius shared some of the blame. But Harry willed those thoughts away, only two people were to blame; him and Dumbledore or Cunt, as he called him when he was particularly annoyed.

But he was furious at Dumbledore for the third reason the most. The Headmaster had not only known there was a prophecy but its contents as well and had decided not to share it with him for the longest time… but why? Some bullshit reason about me not being old enough, and for me to have a normal childhood. If it was my destiny to kill Voldemort or die trying, don't you think I should've known?! And what childhood? I never had a proper childhood, to begin with. Normal children aren't neglected by their 'guardians.'

He realized he could have spent his first four years of school actually studying and learning of ways how to defeat the Dark Lord, rather than lazing around, procrastinating, chasing shallow girls, or playing Quidditch and chess with Ron.

He had squandered the first five years of his life trying to course through life as an average student when he could have been more. He had let Ron influence him to be a mediocre student while ignoring Hermione, who tried to get him to be the best that he could be by doing his best in his studies. Harry knew himself enough to admit that he could do more, push himself more. It shamed him that he dismissed Hermione and her bookish ways the way Ron always did, when in fact, he would not have lasted this long if it weren't for her well of knowledge.

Growing up with the Dursleys certainly didn't encourage he did well in school. In fact, he got punished whenever he got a better score than Dudley did. Thus, he was conditioned to dumb himself down.

Witnessing Ron ridicule Hermione for being bookish and studious reminded him too much of his younger years, that he intentionally put in little effort to his work. But now, he knew what he had to do, what he should have done since day one. He would take a page out of Hermione's book and put himself into improving and bettering himself. So he could also be worthy in her eyes.

He was taken away from his thoughts when there was a small tapping on the window.

Curious, Harry got up from his seat and moved towards the window, where a plain brown owl, was trying to get in.

Only the owl wasn't completely empty-handed. Tied to its leg was an envelope.

He held his breath in, secretly hoping that it was a letter from Hermione.

Harry opened the window, letting the brown owl in, before quickly removing said letter. But upon opening the envelope he was only disappointed.

Not only was it not from Hermione, but instead from the person he least wanted to talk to.

Fucking Dumble—no... Fucking Cunt.

And the contents of the letter only made him feel more annoyed. The old fool said he was coming to 'collect' him on Friday and send him to the Burrow.

Now that his eyes were open he realised something he had always overlooked. It was an order, a demand. In no way could one interpret the words as a question or request. He basically said 'You're going to the Burrow.' On what authority did he plan to do that?

He grimaced at that. Truthfully, he didn't really like the idea all that much. Since things here at Privet Drive were better than usual after he'd literally told his 'relatives' to 'Fuck off.' Though it might've helped that he had held his wand in a threatening manner at them while he said this.

And the prospect of seeing Ron and Ginny was not all that thrilling. Especially considering the typical environment of the Burrow, which could only be described as chaotic and stifling.

He just wanted peace and quiet. He needed time to grieve, to reflect and to begin studying. If he ended up at the Burrow, he wouldn't get anything productive done. Instead, all they'd do would be chores and Quidditch. Something he hadn't missed as much as he'd thought over the last two years.

He mused that he simply preferred flying, being free and at peace. Quidditch was just a bi-product of his exceptional flying skills.

But what was he supposed to do? He had no choice but to go with Dumbledore. Sure, he could try to fight to get his way, but the Headmaster was supposed to be the greatest wizard of the century, what chance did he stand? And if he didn't have a chance against Dumbledore he'd most certainly be obliterated by Voldemort.

Harry groaned in frustration, This is all so stupid. Why should I even bother doing anything? My whole life is controlled by others and the public's expectations. Why does no-one understand, I just want to be left alone?!

He vented out his anger by scrunching up Dumbledore's stupid note and throwing it onto the ground before stomping on it multiple times. And then threw it across the room, not giving a shit about the mess he had added to his room.

He really wished he was able to use his wand, so he could start smashing stuff, but alas, the nonsensical underage law deterred him from doing such a thing.

How exactly the Ministry observed underage magic, was a mystery to Harry. Dobby's use of magic in 1992, caused him to be blamed for using magic, which made little sense considering others had used magic in Privet Drive without the same consequences.

He ran his hands over his face again, frustrated with today's turn of events. Within a week he'd end up in the Burrow… something he currently dreaded.

He had to think of a way not to be picked up by Dumbledore and be brought to the Burrow. He laid on his bed, exhausted from the myriad of emotions and anger he had been feeling all day. He would find a way to escape Dumbledore and the Weasleys, but first, he needed to talk to Hermione.

The sun shined in through his window and his eyes groggily opened. He clumsily put on his glasses before sighing and staring at the ceiling.

It was Wednesday, two days to his set date to be collected by Dumbledore.

Fucking hell… he thought miserably.

He didn't want to get up, he just wanted to sleep all day, like a normal teenager would in the holidays.

But then he imagined Hermione's voice berating him, 'Harry, instead of wallowing in your guilt all day, why don't you go and do that homework you've been assigned over the holidays. You know I'll appreciate it.'

But will you? said his own voice, still worried over what Hermione's reaction to him will be. Leaving Privet Drive also meant that he might encounter Hermione at the Burrow, where privacy was a joke.

If he was to talk to Hermione, he'd do it in private, where he could apologise and began showing he appreciated her, as he should have for the last five years.

For five years he had taken their friendship for granted. After saving her from the Troll, she'd had saved him from death, more times than he could remember. And she took nothing in return, instead, just putting up with him, Quidditch, and Ron's unkind comments.

And for the last two years, their friendship had grown immensely. Never before had the two spent so much time together, especially in the weeks following the 'Choosing of the Champions.' While the whole school had shunned him—believing he was a cheat—Hermione didn't even bat an eye. She believed him when he said he didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire without question. And she stood by him even when his own best friend had scorned him for something he didn't even do. He would have thought that after years of friendship, Ron would have known by then, that Harry despised his fame and attention.

And working with her in the DA made him realise just how well both of them worked together. Teaching seemed almost natural to him, but if it wasn't for Hermione guiding and helping him with the lesson plans, he would've failed horribly.

I need to talk to her, and I need to do it soon.

But it seemed as though some deity heard his thoughts because a loud, 'Pop' sounded right in front of him.

He took his gaze away from the ceiling and looked towards the disturbance. He had to blink his eyes in confusion a few times before confirming that what was in front of him, was indeed real.

There was no denying it, not with those large floppy ears and massive eyes to which he could only associate with one particular elf; Dobby.

"Master Harry Potter!" Exclaimed the excited elf.

"Dobby, it's nice to see you, but could you please be a little quieter? I'd rather not wake up my relatives," told Harry.

He nodded enthusiastically in response, "Of course, Harry Potter, sir. Anything for you."

Harry smiled grimly at Dobby, "Thanks. Um… now, why are you here, my friend?"

Dobby's eyes widened if that was even possible and he replied, "Oh! Miss Miney sent me to check up on you. She be very worried."

He furrowed his brows in confusion at that, Why would Hermione send Dobby to check up on me? Why would she be worried about me if she hated me? Maybe… Maybe she doesn't hate me. He let that thought linger.

"Hermione is worried about me?" asked Harry hesitantly.

Dobby didn't seem to notice anything about his wary delivery so replied by nodding his head furiously. "Yes, yes! Miss Miney was very angry over the Daily Prophet the other day. She calls me and gave me a letter for you."

From what Harry could gather from his little friend, Hermione was just as mad as him over the release of the eleven death eaters. And she has a letter for me? Perhaps not everything is lost.

He looked at Dobby who was simply staring at him with wide eyes, obviously waiting for him to respond.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and asked, "Uh—so do you have a letter for me?"

"Oh!" cried Dobby, "Me's forgot… sorry Mr Potter, sir!" And handed over an envelope to him, while looking on the verge of tears.

Harry fixed Dobby with a strong gaze, "Hey, Dobby. You did good, alright. You did everything right. Thank you."

The elf began to tear up. "Does sir really mean that?" asked Dobby in a fearful voice.

"Yes, he does," replied Harry while giving a small smile.

Dobby responded with a massive grin, and jumped onto Harry's bed, looking at his legs as he dangled them over the side.

Assuming this meant that Dobby was staying and wanted him to read Hermione's letter, he did just that.

He steeled himself, preparing for whatever was in the letter.

Dear Harry,

Hey, you. I know right now you're wallowing away in your guilt, but I implore you to stop. I know being with your 'relatives' doesn't make it any easier but you can't take all the blame, Harry. Others were at much more fault than you and I'd like to further discuss this with you.

I sent Dobby to deliver the letter as I thought that even the Order wouldn't factor in Wards which would stop House Elves from entering Privet Drive, which gives us a flawless mode of communication.

But I have a better idea.

If Dobby can enter your 'home,' then he can also transport you out. So, that's why you're going to meet me at my favourite coffee shop in London today at 9AM.

While Dobby was very enthusiastic about this task, he seemed very fearful of my other request; to pour cold water on your head if you weren't up yet—knowing how long you teenage boys take to get up.

Anyway, see you at nine,

Love Hermione

P.S. Harry, I still do and always shall stand by you, never forget that.

The raven-haired teen put down the letter slowly onto his bed as tears began to flow out of his eyes.

But these weren't tears of sadness, of guilt, or despair. But tears of joy.

Hermione wants to meet me. And is even going behind Dumbledore's stupid Order's back. Crap, what's the time now?

He flicked his gaze to his bedside table, which had his watch atop of it.

The time read quarter-past-eight. Meaning he had approximately 45 minutes to get ready and meet with Hermione.

But even though Hermione had practically ordered Harry to meet her, he didn't find that he cared in the least.

Unlike Dumbledore, instead of feeling forced or like a pawn, it felt right. Hermione knew that sometimes the only way to 'get his mind off of his guilt' was to make decisive decisions for him. Such as this rushed meeting between the two of them.

Not that he was opposed to it, mind you. In fact, it proved the perfect opportunity to talk to her.

The chances of any Order members being wherever Hermione's favourite coffee shop was slim at best. Voldemort's Death Eaters would have an even smaller chance.

For most wizards saw themselves as superior to Muggles, but both Harry and Hermione knew better. So blending into the Muggle World would be easy, and it'd be unlikely anyone would be able to find them.

He quickly had a shower, got dressed and brushed his teeth before looking at himself in the mirror.

He frowned at his reflection, he had tried to tame the mess of his hair but was largely unsuccessful. Oh well, just another thing I share with Hermione, our untamable hair.

He was also wearing some of his cousin's old clothes, which didn't give him a very nice look. Perhaps I can trade some galleons with Hermione for pounds and ask her to buy some proper clothes with me.

Deciding he'd do that, he collected a sack of galleons and addressed Dobby, "Alright Dobby, I'm ready to meet Hermione."

The little elf practically skipped over to Harry before taking his hand and transporting them all the way to a secluded alleyway in London.

It took him a few moments to gather his bearings, having never been transported by a house-elf before.

"Miss Miney say that was her coffee shop over there," commented Dobby while pointing his small finger at a shop across the street.

The little elf seemed sad and looked down, "Dobby needs to return back to Hogwarts before Headmaster sees I's gone."

Harry smiled at the elf, hoping to cheer up his friend. "Thank you, Dobby—for everything."

"No, thank you, Master Harry Potter," exclaimed Dobby and before he had a chance to reply, the elf disappeared with a loud 'Crack.'

He cautiously left the alleyway and looked right, then left before crossing the road swiftly.

It didn't take long to spot Hermione, her bushy mane obvious to him at first sight. She was sitting outside the shop, reading something and occasionally looking around her.

As Harry came closer, it didn't take her long to catch his gaze and once she did, she quickly got off her seat and met him halfway with a big hug.

This surprised him, causing him to tense in her arms. Then it felt like his whole body collapsed into her hold. If he could define where 'home' was right now, it'd be Hermione. Truthfully, the only person whose hugs he could tolerate and accept was Hermione. No one else felt so comfortable, so right.

He didn't exactly know why this was, but he mused it must be because he'd spent so much time with Hermione alone. More so than anyone else who'd hugged him.

It seemed like an eternity before they separated, not that it was unpleasant. She gave him a small smile and she said in a hushed tone, "Hello, Harry."

"Hey, Hermione," he responded softly with a smile.

His best friend's eyes brightened slightly, then seemed to look down his body, causing her to make a 'tsk' sound and her face morphed into one of disapproval.

This made him feel disappointed in himself, even if it wasn't his fault for his current state of dress.

Taking the chance, he decided to look at Hermione closer.

She was wearing every day Muggle clothes, which were a lot more revealing than any of her school robes. Harry found his sight lingering far longer than was platonically acceptable and attempted to subtly turn his gaze back to Hermione's eyes.

The sight of her made his body heat up in ways he had never felt around her.

"I can't believe your relatives have never bought you clothes," mumbled Hermione with a tinge of aggressiveness.

The fact she was angry with the Dursleys strangely warmed his heart. He frowned slightly, "They never have and probably never will. At least they left me alone this summer."

Hermione shook her head and looked at him piercingly, "Harry you shouldn't defend them in any capacity. From what I've seen and gathered for myself they outright neglect you. Every child should have their own clothes." She paused for a moment, so she could take a deep breath in before saying seriously, "And you should not have been left alone. I know you're blaming yourself right now, and you shouldn't and won't from now on. You can't take responsibility for everything, else you'll explode. And if you insist on doing so—share the burden with me, Harry. You're not alone in this."

Harry was gobsmacked at his best friend. Out of everything she could've said he didn't realise that she knew him and understood him so well. Furthermore, she most certainly did not hate him, if anything she was trying to ease his problems, His! She was the one who nearly died, not me. Yet her loyalty seemed to be unwavering and her friendship infallible.

"Harry?" called out Hermione, and when he looked at her face she looked worried. "You seem to get lost in your own world there… did you hear what I said?"

"I heard what you said… but—" started Harry.

Hermione interrupted, "No buts, Harry." She fixed him with a serious gaze, "I'm here," and brought him into another hug to prove her point.

He mused, It really does feel like she's here for me.

After enjoying the hug for a few moments more, he separated from her hold, but then she grabbed his hand and dragged him off in the direction of the street. "Come on, Harry."

He was seriously confused. "What are you doing Hermione?" asked Harry, flabbergasted. "I thought that we were going to sit down and talk here at your favourite coffee shop."

"We were, but I've got a better idea," she replied cryptically as she steered him onto the footpath, and off to the right.

Another idea? wondered Harryamused, She can never stop can she? But her ideas are hardly ever bad, and I trust her.

"And where on Earth are we going?" asked Harry, now following Hermione's lead without resistance.

"For a walk," she replied simply.

"A walk?"

Hermione briefly looked over her shoulder and smiled shyly at him, "I think it'd be best for you to get out and enjoy the outdoors since I doubt you've left your relative's house, have you?"

He gave her a sheepish smile, "You're right of course," and rolled his eyes in amusement. "Okay, well go on your walk."

Hermione grinned at him, "Great!" And the duo continued on, giving Harry some time to think to himself.

She knows me so well… and yet I feel like I know nothing about her. How I assumed she would react was completely wrong. How is that possible? Am I really so ignorant and unobservant that I thought she'd leave me?

He looked at the girl in question, who was still holding his hand and walking a step ahead of him at a leisurely pace. She looked so at peace, happy and calm. Hermione was also wearing a genuine smile on her face, something he didn't see all that often.

He wondered why this was, but couldn't come to a definitive conclusion.

The more he thought of how he'd been so wrong about Hermione, the more he realised he was putting others first, over her. When he was thinking about her resenting, or hating him, he used past experiences to influence his assumption. Mainly experiences with his other best friend, Ron.

His best friend who had left him back in fourth year because of his insecurities and jealousy. Ron was his first friend, the person he hung out with the most… yet he was unable to believe that Harry, a person who hated fame and danger hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

It was a cutting blow to Harry, and if it wasn't for Hermione he would've most certainly fallen into a severe depression. The fact that Ron had betrayed his trust and friendship had largely been forgotten by Harry following his apology after the first task.

I mean he did apologise, right?

'But did he?' said another voice, causing Harry to remember the exact words Ron had said to him.

"I reckon someone's trying to do you in Harry!"

That's it? He wondered, Surely there was more to it than that. And he thought and thought, but no, that was it. That was all his best friend had said, and they had gone back to being best buddies.

That's just how Ron apologises to people, Harry told himself. But he knew deep down, that wasn't acceptable. That was a half-arsed attempt at an apology if one at all, in fact, he had trouble remembering Ron apologising sincerely… Ever!

Without a second thought, Ron had become his best friend again, and he once again drifted away from Hermione, barely spending any time with her, in favour of his red-haired friend. Even when his bushy-haired friend offered him help with the Tournament he waved her off, preferring to procrastinate.

And then the Yule ball happened, instead of doing what he should've from the start and asking Hermione to be his date, he had followed Ron's line of thinking. About getting the 'prettiest' girl to be their date.

God, I was so stupid back then—well I still am, he admitted to himself.

His time in isolation at Privet Drive, had Harry's mind drifting to the topic of girls. In the past, he had shared Ron's perspective that the only thing that mattered in a girl was their looks. But he realised that was seriously shallow and a terrible thing to be the basis for a relationship.

The only girl he had dated in the past was Cho, which ended in a disaster. And he found that the main reason he liked her and pursued her was because of her looks. Besides that, Harry found little to no reasons as to why Cho would've ever been an appropriate girlfriend, considering the only other thing they shared in common was Quidditch. They had never talked about their past, common interests or really talked at all.

And he most definitely did not want to be treated like some sort of hero, which he felt like Cho had done. He didn't think of himself as a hero, and didn't want a girlfriend to only see him as the famous 'Boy Who Lived.' He wanted someone who would care and love him; Harry Potter. The boy who lived in a cupboard for 10 years of his life. The child who had unreasonable responsibilities thrust upon him. A person dearly in need of love.

But alas, Harry knew no one who would possibly do that… But, maybe there was one person, someone who he had on his mind a lot more these days.

That night at the Yule Ball, Hermione looked… Well, Harry didn't know how to explain how she looked. She was spectacular, stunning, striking and completely and utterly beautiful. Hermione had always been a natural beauty, but when she went all out that night and showed up looking like that, he had never regretted anything so much in his life. It wasn't just her looks either, it was Hermione, his best friend, smart, caring, and loving Hermione.

And then Ron had attacked her for going to the Ball with Krum, and 'siding with the enemy.' He had foolishly agreed at the time, and in effect, both of them had ruined her night. Something which she had seemed to be enjoying immensely. And if he had to be truthful to himself, he was more than slightly jealous she wasn't his date.

Yet, again and again, he had taken Ron's side against Hermione in nearly every situation. Something, which now he acknowledged made him feel even more guilt.

Granted, Ron often sided with him as well, but he didn't want a Crabbe and Goyle to just follow him around without question, something which Hermione didn't do. And something he was glad for. Her arguments often had compelling and valid evidence, such as the 'Firebolt incident,' sneaking out when a criminal was on the loose and the vision of Sirius being tortured.

Yet he always pushed her aside.

Every argument, the trio had he sided with his male friend, probably due to Ron being his first friend. Yet time had proved, Hermione was more loyal, more trustworthy, more interested in keeping him safe, rather than having fun.

For losing his firebolt to McGonagall, was heartbreaking to Harry, and he did indeed feel betrayed by Hermione, but he shouldn't have felt like that. Ron had escalated the incident, and unconsciously Harry had sided with Ron, even though he knew, had Hermione discussed the potential dangers of a top of the line broomstick being sent to him by an anonymous sender, he would've accepted her reasoning, albeit hesitantly.

And then Scabbers had disappeared, and Ron had accused Crookshanks, something which had evidence supporting so. Though he should've really listened to both sides of the argument, and even if he didn't believe that Hermione's cat was innocent, he shouldn't have shunned Hermione as he and Ron had for months. While they had both been goofing around, his other best friend was working her arse off trying to save Buckbeak and probably feeling extremely lonely, having no one but Hagrid all that time.

His expression fell, Just how many times have I neglected my friendship to her?

Hermione must've noticed something because she gripped his hand tighter causing him to snap back to reality.

"What's bothering you?" she asked with a shy smile as they walked beside a fence line of a park.

"Just remembering some things."

"I take it they aren't very good memories."

"No, you're right. They aren't," he admitted sadly.

"Want to share them? I've been told I'm a great listener," she asked softly.

He debated with himself for a few moments, as Hermione steered them into the park.

He made up his mind and told her, "I was thinking about how bad of a friend I've been to you."

This instantly caught her attention, "Harry what—no, you're a great fr—"

But he interrupted her, "Hermione please let me finish," and gave a smile.

She mumbled a soft, "Sorry."

"I have been a bad friend, there's no denying it." He raised an eyebrow at the silent protest on her face and continued, "Don't believe me? Well, I'll explain. In third year, I was a terrible friend, I shunned you and ignored you for six months over two insignificant incidents, the Firebolt and Scabbers' disappearance. Leaving you to help Hagrid and Buckbeak alone."

Hermione couldn't help herself, "Harry, no. I was in the wrong, I should've told you about informing McGonagall and…" She looked down shamefully before continuing, "Don't tell Ron, but I also thought that Crookshanks ate Scabbers. All the evidence pointed towards it, but I couldn't help defend my cat, there was no way I would've got rid of him."

"But Hermione you weren't in the wrong," informed Harry. "You were right about the Firebolt. Sure it wasn't dangerous, but it was from Sirius, an escaped convict at the time. And Crookshanks didn't eat Scabbers, as we both know. Just like you were right about the vision I had of Sirius. It was a trap and if I had listened to you, you wouldn't have nearly died."

"Harry, don't worry about that. I chose to follow you, I chose to help you, I chose you as my friend. Everyone has their lows in friendships. You've chosen examples that reflect this, we've also had many good times together. Don't forget those."

And he didn't, he looked back at those memories, especially the times it was just the two of them in the library in fourth year. He couldn't pinpoint why he lingered on these particular memories but was taken from his thoughts when Hermione continued.

"And you're a much better friend to me than Ron."

His face went grim at that. "And that's another thing I should apologise about, Ron."

Hermione angrily replied, "Harry, don't defend him. You can't apologise for his actions, they're his and his alone."

He waved his free hand, in an attempt to calm her down. "That's not what I mean Hermione…" She looked at him expectantly, "I'm sorry I never stopped him from ridiculing you or joking about you. He hasn't stopped doing it since we first met, and yet I've let him have his way." He looked at her seriously, "So for that, I'm sorry. I won't tolerate it any longer."

Hermione's face was beaming with happiness, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"Thank you, Harry."

"You're my best friend too Hermione, it's about time I remember that."

The duo continued their walk around the park, and Harry took the chance to simply take in the sights.

Hermione truly had chosen a wonderful place for their walk, it wasn't over the top or bland, but pretty, peaceful. Exactly the environment he wanted to be in right now.

And he looked down at their still joined hands. They hadn't been apart since the coffee shop, and he found he enjoyed the feel of her soft hands, so made no attempt to disjoin them. Neither did she.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why did you order Dobby to take me to London? I thought you would never order an elf to do anything."

She looked scandalised, "I did no such thing. I paid him, I would never order Dobby like a slave."

"Paid him? What did you give him, I doubt he has many uses for Galleons."

"Galleons? No of course not. I'm knitting him socks, with the most vibrant colours."

He grinned at her, "Ahh—Dobby would indeed love those."

Love.

Something Harry lacked at the current moment. Sirius was gone, his parents were gone. Hermione was—Hermione was right here.

Hermione looked at him with a soft expression, "Is there something else bothering you?"

'Is there something else bothering me?' thought Harry bitterly. There are a million things bothering me and I don't think I shoul—

Hermione pinched him sharply, causing Harry to jump in pain.

"Hermione!" Exclaimed Harry, glaring at the witch. He quickly realised what he was doing and looked at her nervously, but she wasn't cowering or crying and instead was glaring right back at him.

"I know there's something bothering you. Don't lie to me, just let out everything, Harry. Stop hesitating and tell me. I can handle whatever it is," said Hermione sharply.

He was angry to be sure, but not at Hermione. And her encouragement must've been enough to tilt him over the edge as the next thing he knew he was ranting,

"Fine! You want me to tell you everything?! I'll bloody tell you everything. I'm furious at Voldemort, Umbitch, Malfoy, Bellatrix, Sirius, myself and fucking Dumbledore!"

Hermione asked calmly, "And why are you furious at them, Harry?"

"Cause they've all fucking ruined my life! I can never seem to catch a break. It seems at every turn, something bad happens to me. We had Quirrelmort in first year, Basilisk and Riddle's diary in second year. An escaped convict who was actually innocent and my godfather in third year. Fourth year, had that stupid bloody tournament that I was forcibly entered into and then we had the debacle of fifth year."

"And it seems like death follows me everywhere, Cedric died, Sirius..." He then softened his voice and added, "And you came close to it as well."

She squeezed his hand, "Harry, I already told you: I chose to go with you knowing it was likely a trap."

"I know, but it doesn't stop me feeling responsible."

Hermione smiled at him reassuringly, "Now Harry, do you mind explaining why you're so angry at the Headmaster? I thought you looked up to him."

Harry made an irritated sound and replied annoyed, "That was before I learned I've been a pawn of his my whole life."

This worried Hermione. "What do you mean?"

"The Cunt was the reason I was sent to the Dursleys," he replied bitterly.

Hermione made a motion to tell him off for his language but refrained from doing so. She instead asked, "Dumbledore was the one who made you live at the Dursleys?"

"Yes! Because apparently, I'd be 'safe,'" he replied and snorted.

Hermione's face morphed three times; first to shock, then to confusion and lastly to pure anger. "I'm going to kill that man!" she cried.

He sighed, "And that's not all…"

"What else?!" she demanded now furious.

Ironically, now Harry was calmer than Hermione.

"Remember the first year traps we had to get past?" When she nodded her head he continued, "Well did you ever notice that they were designed exactly for us. I mean, what kind of obstacle is a giant chess set, unless it was a trap designed for a certain chess prodigy, Ronald Weasley?"

Hermione looked as though she was pondering what he had said and eventually replied, "And I'm assuming the first trap was for Neville?"

"That's my assumption as well. And beforehand he had caught me looking into the 'Mirror of Erised' and told me about it, which in turn allowed me to get the stone before Voldemort."

He then went on to tell her about second year, Dumbledore somehow not noticing a giant snake moving around the school, third year, his refusal to help Sirius. Fourth year, and his 'inability' to get him out of the tournament. Fifth year, taking responsibility for the DA and also told her about the prophecy.

Her eyes had widened as he finished the last line.

"Oh, Harry," she said softly with a sympathetic face and brought him into one of her signature, bone-crushing hugs.

He relaxed into it and could feel the emotion Hermione was conveying to him.

"Do you feel better now?" she asked as they separated.

"Yes—thanks for listening to me, Hermione," he replied.

"Anytime, I'll always be here."

They walked in silence for a few comfortable minutes, then suddenly Hermione asked, "So what are you going to do?"

This question was unexpected to Harry, so he thought for a few moments before replying with conviction, "I'm going to defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters at any cost. Without the help of Dumbledore and his stupid 'Order.'"

"Do you want any help?"

He furrowed his brows and looked at her, "What do you mean?"

Hermione punched him lightly on the arm, "You prat! You know I'd never let you do anything alone." She shot him a warm smile and added, "I'll be helping you."

He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. It was pointless to argue with Hermione on something like this, there would be no way he'd win the argument.

She smirked at him, "See now you're getting it."

He shook his head in amusement as the two continued to walk around the park.

"Harry, do you want to go back to your relatives?" asked Hermione casually.

"What? Of course, I don't, Hermione," he replied, confused.

"Good, 'cause you're coming and staying at my house."

Harry was gobsmacked. "Sorry, could you repeat that?"

Hermione let out a small chuckle. "I said, you," while gently poking him with her index finger, "Are staying at my house," her hand now splayed against her own chest.

She can't be serious, can she? He looked at Hermione to see any signs of dishonesty, but spotted none, in fact, she had an expectant look on her face.

"Look, Harry, we have Dobby, he can get your stuff and take it to my house, no problem. The Order won't even realise you're gone unless they're actually doing their job properly. And we have a spare room in my house, besides, I already discussed it with my parents beforehand and they'd be happy for you to stay over until term starts."

"You already asked?"

"Yes, of course, I did. I wasn't going to bring you along unannounced now was I?" She looked at him with puppy dog eyes and added sadly, "Unless you don't want to stay over at my house..."

But he did, very much, probably more than he cared to admit. Any chance to get away from his relatives was a welcome one. And it wouldn't be like going to the Burrow, where a chaotic household is a normal day. He was sure staying at the Granger's would be very quiet and peaceful.

But there was just one problem.

"You know I'd love to, but Dumbledore is picking me up on Friday to take me to the Burrow…"

"Would you prefer to go there?"

"No."

She smirked, "Well then, the 'Cunt' will be in for a nice surprise, won't he?"

Harry gaped openly at his best friend, Did she seriously just say that? He eventually closed it and replaced his expression with a massive smile. "Your house, it is then."

"Great!" she exclaimed.

Well, I guess I'm going to Hermione's house, thought Harry. Oh god, I'm also meeting her parents, what will they think of me? I look like some homeless person in my cousin's clothes.

"Hermione, do you have any Pounds on you?"

"Yeah, I always carry around 100 or so," Hermione said as they walked. She suddenly stopped and looked at him quizzically, "Why?"

He began nervously, "Umm—could I go buy some real clothes for myself? I'd rather not meet your parents wearing these," and gestured to his clothes. "I'll trade you Galleons if that's alright."

Hermione was surprised but smiled at him, "Of course, Harry, that'll be fine." Her smile then turned into a grin, a very excited grin.

"Uh—Hermione, why are you grinning like that?"

"Cause we're going to buy you new clothes!"

He didn't really understand why she was so excited, he just hoped it wouldn't take as long as the times they had visited Flourish and Blotts.

Thankfully, it did not.