The Power He Knows Not (Harmione)

Chapter 8 - Professor Potter

Harry couldn't decide what frightened him more; the fact Hermione seemed to have shared the pain in his scar, or the fact she was right about Voldemort. He was thrilled about something, ecstatic even. But how could Hermione know that?

He refocused his attention on her, propped uneasily against the squashy chair, clearly shaking as if suffering from hypothermia. As his eyes met hers, he realized her thoughts were truly reflecting his own. The pain that was visible in her eyes only moments before had been replaced by unmitigated panic.

"Harry?" her voice quaking noticeably. "How do I know that? How do I know he's happy? What's going on?" Her voice was steadily growing more frightened.

"I don't know," Harry replied, still shocked at what had just happened. He moved closer to her and curled his arms around her quivering body. She burst into tears almost immediately; not tears of sadness or pain, but the kind of tears associated with the feeling of fear and helplessness. Her tears brought Harry to some modicum of reality and he pulled her closer.

This is what he feared most, this is what he fought so hard against - Hermione in pain. He made a conscious decision, while clutching her in his arms, that he would keep this from happening again, but not by avoiding her - it was too late for that - by trusting Dumbledore's assertion that love is more powerful than even the darkest wizards.

He spoke so quietly it was a miracle any sound came from his throat. "It's going to be okay Hermione. I promise you that. I'll keep you safe no matter what it takes." She nuzzled her head in closer to his chest as he kissed the top of her head.

They sat on the floor for nearly an hour, clutching each other and not speaking a word. They both seemed to stare into the fire, searching for some logic to explain what had happened. Harry spoke first.

"Hermione, I don't want you to be alone tonight." She looked into his eyes, wiping a stray tear from hers.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's getting late. I think you need to get some sleep, but I don't want you in your dormitory all alone, not tonight...not after," Harry trailed off, seeming to not want to remind her what happened. However, his request seemed to bring Hermione back to the categorical logic that had failed her over the past hour.

"Well, I'm surely not sleeping on the common room floor." She smiled. This was clearly her best attempt at lightening the mood.

"Listen," Harry said, shifting a bit. "Let me take you up to my dormitory. You can sleep in my bed and I'll take Ron's." He was clearly concerned that Hermione might think his intentions were something other than purely protective in nature.

"Harry." The tone of her voice seeming to answer him before the words, she put her finger to his lips to stop the rebuttal clearly preparing to erupt from them. "It's really very sweet and I thank you for it, but I'll be fine. I just need to get some sleep and clear my head so I can think logically about this." She interrupted his reply again. "And, I surely will not be able to clear my head if you are sleeping next to me," she added, sheepishly.

"But, Hermione," he began.

"You can, however, walk me to my staircase, and say goodnight," she said with finality. She got up from the floor and extended her hand to help Harry up. Harry had witnessed far too many arguments between Hermione and Ron to know once she made up her mind she'd gladly drink bobotuber puss before conceding defeat. He put his arm around her shoulders and walked to her staircase.

Her hand fell into his as she gave him a warm kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Harry Potter," she said warmly while ascending the first two stairs backwards, still holding his hand.