Hermione Granger and the Theft of Magic

Chapter 20: That Was Enough

 [A/N: Thank you to Calamity Owl for beta-reading this chapter!]

They arrived home only a few minutes later, and Hermione raised her eyebrows when Harry merely scrubbed off his boots on the mat rather than take them off as she'd begun doing. "Are you planning to go back out?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "There's something I do every year after coming home from seeing Remus and Sirius." A wave of his wand unlocked a cabinet and summoned something, and another wave undid the shrinking charm.

"Flowers?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Harry said, "under a stasis charm. The little box contains a snitch."

"That little thing you used to catch when you played Quidditch?"

He nodded. "Every summer I release a professional-grade one into the air and catch it for my father. Everyone says he would have been so proud to see me play Quiddich, so it seemed like something he'd like more than flowers. My parents' graves occasionally have visitors and that's the last place in the world I want to hear any of that 'Boy-Who-Lived' dragonshite–"

"Language," Hermione corrected automatically.

Harry smirked at her and continued, "So every year I visit on Christmas Eve. Nobody is ever there, which makes it perfect."

"I see." Hermione bit her lower lip and thought for a moment. "So you like to go alone?"

Harry was about to answer when the actual question she was asking penetrated his thick skull. "I usually do," he said, "but only because Sirius and Remus end up as wrecks and I don't want to take any of my friends away from their family time."

"Oh, Harry, you know any of us would go with you in a heartbeat if we knew you needed us," Hermione said.

"I know," he replied. "But...the whole reason I'm going is that I don't have parents to spend this holiday with. I'm happier knowing my friends are spending that time with the families they have left."

Hermione began to lace up the boot she had half-unlaced. "You're their family, too, so I think you know what they'd say if you told them that. Regardless, I'm going with you."

"Thank you," Harry said. Something about the way she said it sounded less like a demand and more like a fundamental fact of the universe: that no matter where his steps took him for the rest of his life, she would be right there beside him.

"Harry? Is everything alright?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes," Harry said. "Sorry, I just spaced out." He held out a hand and helped her up. "Are you ready to go?"

"I think so," she said as he helped her to her feet. "Am I dressed warmly enough?"

"It's in Exmoor, so it'll be a bit colder than London," Harry said. "It might be a good opportunity to try out your gift."

"Oh, yes," Hermione said. She shrugged off her coat, hung it on the hall tree, handed Harry the capelet, and turned her back to him. Harry wasn't sure why until she looked over her shoulder at him and flicked her gaze down to the capelet that he caught on.

"Here you go," he said, and put it over her shoulders.

"Thank you." A blush spread across her face as she spoke.

Harry cocked his head. "Did I...um...touch something I ought not have or make you uncomfortable?"

"No! Not at all. It's just...in books set a century or two ago, dashing gentlemen are always helping the heroines put their cloaks on or take them off. I never thought I'd have someone do that for me."