--------------

Well can we still be friends?

Well I guess that depends

How’s the weather

From so high?

Well I know it’s a shame

Why do you cause all this strain?

All together

Well it won’t be the first or the last

Time I wanted to try

--Splender, “Space Boy”

“Can you believe people can be so dense?” said Merinah. “I mean, how can they not recognize you?”

Harry pulled the hood tighter around his face and didn’t reply. He was feeling very relieved they’d gotten on and off the Knight Bus with no difficulty. But that had been the easy part of their journey. Now they were in Hogsmeade and they needed a place to stay. Which meant renting a hotel room. How was he going to pull that one off?

Merinah didn’t seem at all worried. She was practically skipping, so happy she’d gotten off the bus with no trouble. “How much money you got?” she asked Harry, digging through her own pockets. “I have two Galleons, ten Sickles, and three Knuts. I don’t think that’s enough for both of us to live. Enough for me though.”

Harry poked his head out of the protective covering of his hood. “How are you going to live on that much?” he demanded. “And while we’re at it, how do you have wizard money?”

“Since when is it wizard money?” asked Merinah gracelessly. “Why not witch money? You’re all sexist, I think.” She waved the coins under his nose. “You think I don’t keep witch money around, huh, Potter? I’m not an idiot. I had this locked up in case I went back into the witch world.” Her face fell a bit as she jingled the coins in her hand. “But I don’t got much Muggle money either…”

She looked up and scrutinized him. “How much money do you have, anyway?”

Harry emptied out his pockets and counted. “One hundred and fifty Galleons, eighty Sickles, and twelve Knuts.”

“Good Lord, Potter. You rich or what?” Merinah whistled. “I’ve never seen that much witch money in my whole life. Marian was never very rich.”

Harry didn’t bother to ask who Marian was. He could conclude it was her mother or aunt easy enough. So he just slipped the coins into his pocket and tugged on the strings of his hood.

It was night, probably around ten o’clock, so no one was outside. But Harry couldn’t risk it at all. If he was recognized, not only would he go to Azkaban, but Merinah was too. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t stand the fact of Merinah going to Azkaban because of him.

He slid to a stop as Merinah halted suddenly in front of him. “What?” he asked nervously, looking over his shoulder.

“Here we go,” said Merinah in a mildly exuberant voice. “Perfect. Cheap and has vacancies. C’mon, Potter.”

“I wish you would stop saying my name,” hissed Harry. “Someone might hear you!”

Merinah glanced back at him as she strode up the walkway to the front door. “What the hell else am I going to call you? Mulder?” She laughed at her own wit. “Yeah. That’s your new alias. God, I can’t believe you never came up with another name when you were working for Vol—”

“Shut up!”

Merinah raised an eyebrow at him and she pushed the glass door open. “I’ll shut up…” She looked back at him and added, “Fox.”

Harry wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but he could almost remember Dudley mentioning someone named Fox Mulder once. He wasn’t sure who he was, but he was almost certain it wasn’t something to call someone trying to hide. It seemed it might attract attention.

Harry followed Merinah inside the plainly decorated foyer. The carpet was a deep crimson color and the walls had rose wallpaper with a wooden border. A small register stood against the opposite wall of the glass doors and a small, hissing tree. A man stood stalk still behind the small, almost wobbly counter. When they entered, he seemed to have woken up and a huge, cheesy smile spread across his face.

“Good evening,” he greeted in a deep, monotone voice that made Harry pulled the hood tighter.

Merinah flashed him a dazzling smile and swaggered up to the desk. “Hellooooo,” she sang.

Harry shot her a sharp look. She was making them all the more conspicuous. It was enough that he came into a warm room with a hood covering his whole face without Merinah flirting with the pale owner, who very much resembled a vampire.

The smile didn’t so much as flicker. It seemed plastered to the man’s face. “How do you do?”

“Oh, fiiine,” said Merinah, ignoring Harry’s look and continuing with her annoyingly cheerful manner. “We’d like to rent two rooms for a week. Is that possible?”

This time the man’s smile completely collapsed. He looked somber. “I’m sorry, madam. We only have one vacancy.”

“One room?”

“Yes.”

Merinah looked indecisive for once. “Well, I guess we’ll have to go somewhere else…” She turned around and began to push the door open.

“Wait, madam!” cried the pale man. “All the other inns are full too.”

Merinah threw him a suspicious look. “You’re sure?”

The man nodded. “We…er…have the…least…fancy rooms, madam.”

Merinah pursed her lips together thoughtfully. “Well, I guess…” She looked at Harry. “How many beds are in the room?”

“Three, madam.”

Merinah nodded, still studying Harry. “What about it? We can rent another hotel later this week… One night?”

Harry knew he’d probably regret it later, but at least the man wasn’t calling the Ministry. He nodded his head slowly.

Hermione hated insomnia. But she supposed she wouldn’t have become as educated as she was if she hadn’t developed it.

For deep in the night, when everyone but Peeves and Filch were snoozing away in their private dorms, Hermione sat up to late hours of dawn reading, reading, and reading some more. Of course, she had always been one to study late into the night. But she’d never missed a whole night’s sleep, and then another’s, consecutively.

It had started her first year in so-called “magic college.” So fearful Harry Potter would pop out of thin air in her room in the middle of the night, she didn’t sleep. She tried, oh yes, she tried. But she just couldn’t.

So while her roommate, her then best friend Merinah Gattes, slept peacefully, Hermione curled up into a comfortable position on her bed and pulled out a huge stack of books. At first they had been the books she needed for her classes. She finished them quite quickly, though, practically having them memorized in a matter of months. It was no wonder she got almost perfect marks on everything and graduated from the school as, yet again, Head Girl.

But, over time, Hermione began scouring the library for things she’d never read. It was like an addiction, like drugs. Hermione was, in a way, becoming fixated to no sleep, and that wasn’t a good thing. Her immune system seemed to go down.

After a while, she got some help for her insomnia (Merinah Gattes, Divinations Queen), and managed to sleep at least four hours every night. But the point was, she had read almost every single book she could find, and, as a result, was truly a walking encyclopedia.

The idea of reading herself to sleep every night never left her mind as she lay awake for hours, listening the clicking of the clock on her wall, as the minutes slowly slipped by. After about a month at Hogwarts, she began it again: either checking class work or reading more and more and more…

She usually had a cache of books hidden in her closet, but this particular night, when she checked, ready to read some history, she saw she’d read every single one there.

Hermione hated reading a book twice. It was like a memory playing through your head thousands of times. And that had been the cause of Hermione’s insomnia. She wouldn’t do anything similar to this in the least. Which meant, no reading the same books twice.

She pulled on her robe and slipped her feet into her slippers and stole silently to the library. She halfway felt she was doing something wrong. There’s nothing wrong with a professor going to the library, she kept insisting to herself. Nothing at all.

But she couldn’t help fight the dark thoughts that keep seeping into her mind: You’re not supposed to be out. Especially not tonight. Hermione, don’t do it! Just don’t read!

But, even to herself, Hermione was stubborn. The pestering part of her mind lost its resolve and quit bickering. She couldn’t help the worry that was covering her heart though.

Something was wrong with going out tonight. She just didn’t know what it was.

In the library, white moonlight trickled across the carpet and tables and shelves through the huge, narrow windows lining the right. Her hand rested against her beating heart in apprehension. Everything looked ghostly in this new building of Hogwarts. It looked so much like the old one, but it didn’t have that warmth Hermione had felt every time she’d entered a room, as the old Hogwarts had. She felt out of place. She belonged in the old building. This one was for the new kids. A new school for a new generation.

She suddenly felt so old.

For heaven’s sake, Hermione, she thought, you’re only twenty-two. Far from old.

But her hands shook as they ran across the spines of the books available to her. She’d read almost every single one.

If she was so young, she wondered, then where was the ingenuity of her life?

She forced her face into a stone mask and pulled a book with an unfamiliar title from the shelf. Its brothers fell against each other, filling the space.

The book felt cool and hard in her hands. She blinked back tears.

She was isolated. Just her and her lone book. It didn’t have a place anymore either.

Feeling a little more depressed than she usually did when she had an alien book in her grip, she took a table in line with the windows so the moonlight would reach her lonely corner.

Sometimes she hated life. But never when she read.

“What the heck did you do to that man?” asked Harry as Merinah fidgeted with the lock to their room.

Merinah looked up from her handiwork enough to flash him a glimpse of her perfectly white teeth. “I told you I was supposed to be the next Divinations teacher. Remember, not only does Divinations penetrate the future, but also human mind. That’s what you call ‘mind-nudging.’ I like to think of it as a Jedi mind-trick though.” Harry was confused. “Jedi mind trick?” Merinah glanced up at him and rolled her eyes. “Jedi. Star Wars. God, Potter, where have you been?” She jerked at the door hand. “God, d*** it! Open, you—”

Harry, feeling a tad embarrassed to be so out of tune with life, grabbed her arm before she could annihilate the brass handle and gently took the key from her grasp. She glared at him as he carefully slid the enchanted key into the invisible keyhole and turned it slowly to the right. The door popped open and it was his turn to pass Merinah a grin. “After you, your highness.”

Merinah almost seemed to bare her teeth at him as she pushed by him and stumbled into the room. Harry followed her and the door magically shut behind him.

Merinah ran her hand along the wall until she came to a light switch and flicked it on. Bright fluorescent lights lit up the room, revealing the same deep red carpet as the check-in room. There was a bed on the wall with the doorway and two more opposite, a nightstand separating them. Everything was the same scarlet color, the only embellishment a thin gold design of a tree embroidered in the bedspread and curtains.

“Cheery place, ain’t it?” remarked Merinah darkly. “Harry, I’ll tell ya here and now. I’ve been to this hotel before. Last time it was white and blue and purple. Much nicer, lighter. They redecorated, see because the last owner was killed when Hogsmeade was attacked three years ago. By you.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Now, this may seem less than impressive of your other ‘works of magic,’ but it goes to show you that even the little things were hurt.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Harry snapped crossly, somehow deeply torn at the change in décor because of his doings.

“What, I’m supposed to make you feel better with everything I say?” Merinah demanded. “You have me completely wrong then, Potter.” She went up close to his face. “I’m gonna help you, yes. But I said that because I want you to know something: I don’t appreciate what you did. I don’t condone it. I don’t…excuse it. I wanted you to see that I’m not gonna be pushed over to do what you’d like, Mr. Potter.” She grinned at him now. “As long as we have that straight, I’m glad to be of service.”

She stepped back from him and freed him from her gaze. She looked around and surveyed the array of beds and furniture. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll take the bed by the window, you can take the one by the bathroom, and we’ll put a dividing curtain here…” She pulled her wand out of her back pocket where it was concealed by her long coat jacket. She muttered something Harry couldn’t hear and a curtain gracefully pulled itself around both the beds. “There we go. It’s, what…ten? Nine-thirty? I don’t care. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day. I’m taking a shower and then I’m going to bed.” She jerked her own curtain back to reveal her bed and threw her backpack where she had her things and unzipped it, pulling out some clothes, soap, shampoo, and towels. She grinned at Harry’s surprised expression. “I’m always prepared for everything, Potter. I’d have thought you’d be too, considering all your years on the run.”

The slightly hidden rebuke hurt as much as an outright one. Merinah marched past him and opened the bathroom door with no trouble at all.

Harry collapsed down on his bed and few moments later, heard the shower start.

He was exhausted. He was confused. And he still wasn’t quite sure about this Merinah, only that he should trust her. There was something about those sapphire eyes that defined her in a way others’ wouldn’t.

Hermione’s eyes weren’t anything special, he thought to himself. Then he suddenly realized he was comparing Merinah to Hermione and wondered what that meant exactly.

He pulled himself to his feet and forced his leaden legs to the window, where he drew the curtains back and discovered that this wasn’t a window after all. It was a balcony.

He gingerly pulled the doorknob and opened the doors with a loud creak. The night seemed to have turned cold in the last hour or so they’d been inside.

Tired as he was, he couldn’t resist going out, so he stepped onto the uneven cement floor and quietly (okay, not so quietly) closed the door behind him.

The air was cool and crisp and somehow cleared away the wisps of confusion veiling his mind. He rested his arms on the railing and looked around.

Hogsmeade was a cluster of little thatch houses and old-fashioned shops. Every now and then, pale lights speckled the darkness of night where people sat up, reading and such, preparing for bed.

A gentle gust of wind sifted over to hair and pushed his bangs off his forehead, revealing his scar for all to see. But, for once, he didn’t quickly cover it.

He could see Hogwarts in the distance and was surprised at the pain of the sight squeezing at his insides. A sudden idea pushed its way into Harry’s head and set up fort: go see Hermione now.

It was stupid, almost suicidal. It wasn’t part of their careless plan. Not only would he be sentencing himself to Azkaban, but also Merinah. The pain of seeing Merinah stuck with dementors because of him didn’t come this time.

The hope of seeing Hermione again and somehow reconciling was too strong.

Never once did the truth that love caused insanity cross his mind. The longing was too strong and only wavered against his pessimism.

He pushed back into the room to find Merinah still in the shower. He stopped only to pull his invisibility cloak out of his backpack and jerk it on before he pushed out the door and ran down the steps to the first floor, where he fled the hotel through a side door. He ran, fueled by the insanity of the suggestion, to Hogwarts, while a part of him hoped he was condemning himself.

Hermione was surprised to find the book was an American history book. She hadn’t found one of those since…well, her old public library. But she didn’t want to think of her past. It was too laborious.

By twelve o’clock in the morning, she was at the area where the colonists had written the Olive Branch Petition.

While she was marveling on why the King had refused it, she had a sudden eerie feeling of being watched.

She looked up and nervously twirled a lock of her hair. The library looked empty, but that was only in the moonlight. She couldn’t see very well.

She released her hold on the book and automatically went for her wand, which she had left in her room. Cursing herself for being that stupid, she tried to ignore the uncanny feeling of being stalked and turned her attention to the book. …Angered at the King for posing such costly taxes and also refusing to protect their rights, the colonists were ready for freedom…

There was a soft thud as a chair fell to the carpeted floor. Hermione’s fingers tightened on the book and she continued to stare at it, though far from reading it. ..ready for freedom…

Another thump as a book toppled off a shelf and Hermione suddenly found herself on her feet. She clutched the book tightly in her hands. “Wh—who’s there?” she squeaked.

There was another clunk of something falling and she backed away, tripping over her forgotten chair and doubling over to clutch her knee in pain.

She could hear her own heart pounding in her ears. There was someone in the room. And she wasn’t being paranoid. Whoever it was wore an invisibility cloak. She could see half their boots, like the cloak couldn’t reach down to the floor and wasn’t large enough to cover all of them.

She knew of only one person who had an invisibility cloak: Harry Potter.

She grabbed the chair back and pulled herself to her feet. “H-Harry Potter,” she whispered intensely. She was surprisingly calm and at ease. With her emotions on such a roller coaster because of this moment, she would have expected herself to start to cry at least. Never once had she expected herself to calmly stand before Harry, her eyes glazed over to hide all the torment she had experience through the last five years.

Evidently, he was shocked she saw him, because the feet didn’t budge.

With a steady hand, she reached out and grabbed the cloak in her fingers, the liquid feeling sliding across her hand. She jerked hard and the cloak slid off, revealing Harry’s bewildered expression and loose stance. When she peered into his eyes, Hermione was surprised to see they looked worried and warm.

It’s a lie, she thought. Of course he’ll be good at deceptions by now.

“H-Her-mi-mione,” he stuttered. “You…look…different…”

She narrowed her eyes. Why wasn’t he attacking her? Where was his wand?

“It’s…been a while,” he continued in a shaking voice.

He seemed almost…scared of her?

No, it wasn’t possible… Was it?

“Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?” snapped Hermione.

Harry reeled back in obvious surprise. “What—?”

“I’m no fool, Potter,” she spat out. “I know you’ve come to finish me off. Just do the job. No use in fooling with my mind too.”

“F-finish you off?” Harry asked softly. “No, no, Hermione! It’s nothing like that!” He reached out for her and she pulled away, disgusted.

“You’re forgetting I was Head Girl, Harry. I didn’t get to that by being a moron.”

“Hermione, I—I left Voldemort!”

“Why the hell should I believe you?” she snarled, tightening her grip on his cloak.

“M-Merinah,” he whispered desperately. “Merinah Gattes. She—”

Her eyes were now slits. “How do you know Merinah?”

“She’s helping me—”

“Ah, so the little b**** is helping you get to me, eh?”

“Hermione!”

“Just shut up. I’d run if I knew I could. But I can’t, now, can I?” She stabbed her index finger at his chest, up in his face in a sudden rage. “I’ve been waiting five years for you to come and kill me, Harry! And you come and tell me you aren’t here to kill me? That you left Voldemort? My God, you idiot, you told me yourself you’d come back for me!”

To her surprise, Harry’s face fell and he started crying. “I know, I know, I know,” he said softly, his voice muffled with tears. “You always were stubborn. What gave me the idea you’d trust me, even forgive me? He poisoned me, Hermione. I’d never do that to you. I—I loved you. I—I still do. I hate myself. I hate him. I wish I could blame him, but I—I can’t, see, because I could have stopped myself. I…I know you’ll call the Ministry. I know. Azkaban, here I come. I just…don’t let them put Merinah in too. She’s…she’s an angel. She took me in and believed me when no one else did.

“But, Hermione, I just want you to know that I didn’t mean it. That I’m sorry. So sorry…” He was struggling to control his grief.

Hermione stood frozen, staring at him. Why should she believe him? He’d been nothing but torture for her for the last five years.

But for seven years before that he’d been her best friend. She felt no coldness coming from him anymore. He was wearing colors. And he looked a wreck. The Olive Branch Petition, said a sudden voice in her head. He’s extending an olive branch, Hermione. You wondered why the King ignored it. You disliked him for it. You’re doing that now.

Choosing between love and your life is a difficult choice. Hermione was teetering off the edge of either one.

Keeping a steady balance on herself so she wouldn’t fall just yet, she reached out and comforted Harry.

To be continued…

Ooh, I got a Spanish review! *grins* Interesting. Anyway, thanks for the feedback (again), and I’d like more (again), please, if you don’t mind… If you’d be so kind…