Harry_Potter_and_the_Knowledge_of_a

Every parent leaves something behind for their children to remember them by. Lily Evans didn't know, when she left her diary behind, that it would help her son into knowing her and himself.or did she?

Oh, my God! I have like SEVENTY REVIEWS! I can't believe it! I thought I'd have maybe 40 for the whole completed story, and we're only like a third through so far! Anyway, I'm quite proud of myself for getting this out so quickly (considering I only had about six hours total between work and my family, we're 5, so computer time gets kind of chopped up) but I truly, seriously believe this chapter's absolute crap. And book five is coming out like.tomorrow! No! Anyway, like I said I have things planned for the order of the phoenix, but since it won't come up till Chapter 8, I'll tell you basically what mine will be about. Basically, it's just an organization that looks out for Voldie, finds his possible victims and gives them a hiding place till they're cleared. Keep that in mind when you read future chapters and please try to ignore anything that might happen in book 5 to change the plot of MY story. Anyway, like I said, this is real crap, but since my comp time is practically up I'm going to post this without even reading through it again. When I have time I'll come back and re edit, but for now please be patient. Thank you. And thanks to the wonderful reviewers. ^_^

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Since that's over with: on with the fic:

Harry Potter and the Knowledge of a Mother

Chapter 6: Truths and confrontations

Harry and Hermione were completely absorbed in a rather lovely study session in the library in sight of their not-so-far-off N.E.W.T.s during that grey windy mid December day when they noticed Ron sauntering in the way he'd been wont to do after one of his hallway run-ins with Krista. They both did notice, however, when they looked up at his beaming freckled face, that he seemed even more pleased than usual.

Knowing fully well what was coming, they both placed their quills down after finishing the sentence, crossed their arms over the study desk's hard surface and waited for the redhead to announce whatever new romantic revelation had hit him. They watched in silence as he sat down across from them without bothering to get his school things out, crossed his arms in front of him, and simply beamed at them.

This must have been a particularly good revelation, if he was so itching to say out loud, but exited enough to make their friends guess.

Not that his friends cared all that much for Krista Perril's exiting everyday conversation (the word-for-word retelling interesting them even less) but they'd long ago learned to humour the most temperamental third of their group.

Finally, after much staring (and after Hermione was sure that Ron's cheek muscles must have frozen in place from all that incessant grinning) she spoke up, annoyed. "Are we going to sit like this all day, or are you finally going to let us get back to our studying after your wonderfully loquacious recounting of Krista Perril's romantic phrasings?"

At this Ron grinned even wider. "I'm going to be away this Christmas. I'm taking part of an important Chess tournament in Diagon Alley," he pronounced finally.

Both Harry and Hermione blinked confused. They had already been told of this, and that particular topic hadn't reached the list of expected ramblings.

After more blinking Hermione decided to incite him, "And?"

If Ron kept grinning like that his face was going to split in two. "And Krista's coming with me," he told them enthusiastically, completely ignoring Madame Pince's reprimanding shush.

Oh, now it made sense. "Glad to hear it Ron, but what will your parents say?"

Ron shrugged. "Ginny agreed to tell them that Krista's coming with her as a friend," he shrugged again. "Don't care so long as she comes," he decided finally and his friends went back to congratulating him a little more, and, after concluding that Ron had been adulated enough, simultaneously picked up their quills to go back to their essays.

The redhead watched the pair, thinking that the two had been spending way to much time together, by now they were probably sharing brains, which for Harry would be a good thing when the N.E.W.T.s rolled around, but they didn't seem too happy to only be studying together in the moments in which they weren't glued to Lily's diary (both he and Hermione had taken to using her first name). "What are you doing for Christmas?" He asked, not wanting to get into study mode yet (not that he ever would be in actual study mode). The question might have seemed directed at both, but since it was common knowledge that Harry wouldn't go back to the Dursleys unless he had absolutely no choice (and after meeting them on their way to King's Cross they finally understood why), it was an understatement that Hermione was the only one in need to answer.

She looked at him, and then at Harry, wondering if she should tell them what she was about to, but, figuring that they would find out anyhow, she decided to tell them. "Well, my parents are going to an orthodontists' convention in Hawaii," Ron gawked at her at this point, "but I decided to stay here instead, you know, give them a good vacation of their own," she finished offhandedly with every intention of going back to her essay.

Ron had other plans however. "WHAT?!" He screeched loudly, getting another reprimand from Madam Pince and just about the rest of the Hogwarts population littering the library. He didn't acknowledge them, yet lowered his volume to a decent tone anyway. "But it's Hawaii!" He exclaimed. She shrugged, and his mouth dropped open in shock. "You have a chance to get away from this icy hell and get your arse tanned in bloody HAWAII, and you're staying HERE?!" His screeches were at least whispered this time.

She shrugged again. "So, I'll have plenty of chances to go there on my own after I graduate," she shrugged yet another time.

"But it's Hawaii!" Ron repeated his whispered screech.

This time Hermione chose to ignore him and focus on her essay. She found it rather hard, however, when Harry was looking at her confused, and maybe even a little dismayed.

�*�

Harry was sitting alone in the common room after hours, waiting for Hermione to be back from her inspection rounds completely set in the decision of clearing out what had transpired in the library, so when she stepped through the portrait hole and saluted her he stated: "You knew about him leaving for Christmas," in way of greeting. He'd said it matter- of-factly, as a statement, rather than as a question.

She stood looking at him quietly for a while, wondering what he could possibly think of the truth he'd just spoken. "Yes," she replied uncertainly.

"And you stayed so I wouldn't be alone," he stated again. His voice was cold and expressionless, and it made her lose the certainty that she was doing the right thing in staying. Her nod was small, guilty, and even a little scared, but it communicated her determination against the idea of leaving.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to convince her to change her mind. The feat was already desperate when the matter at hand was of a lesser cause, but this was practically condemned to begin with. Still, he had to try. "Don't sacrifice a fun Christmas for me, Hermione. Just knowing that you care is more than enough for me," he told her, his eyes set on her, and he'd spoken the truth, it meant the world to him to know that she cared.

Hermione's eyebrows knit in determination. "It's not sacrifice, Harry," she told him, "I want to stay." In explanation she offered, "Next year I won't be here anymore."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, looking away from her and into the crackling fire. The following year, Hogwarts wouldn't be his home anymore. What would happen then?

She made her way next to him on the couch in deep thought. "What do you plan to do?" She asked, probably on the same train of thought he'd been on.

"Find a place away from the Dursleys and start Auror training, I guess," he replied offhandedly. They were both already discussed topics. What was Hermione going to do, though? She'd never said much about the future.

"I've been accepted for training, too," she told him quietly.

He was about to reply, 'Oh, that's nice', when the words settled in his numb mind. "WHAT?!" He shouted much like Ron had done previously that day. He wasn't worried about people hearing him. Nobody would make a fuss if Harry Potter decided to become an Auror, after all, his destiny had been to fight against evil practically since he was born. Hermione Granger, smartest witch on the face of the planet, lovely Muggle born, and love of his life, however, was a different matter all together.

She shrugged, hoping to assuage Harry out of his angry stupor. "I asked to enter their research team, but I have to pass the physical training as well for it, as a precaution," she explained quietly, desperately hoping that Harry would understand. And he did.

He just wouldn't accept it.

He'd shot tons of reasons at her for changing her mind. There were other fields in which she could adapt well and make a better living for herself. There were safer situations. There were causes that needed her attention more than the Aurors.

"It's too dangerous Hermione!" He yelled finally. During his listing of better positions his voice had risen in a continuous crescendo as she kept on giving counter-reasons to back up her decision until it had been punctuated by that last shout that set her blood a boil.

Her nose her lips were swollen, her complexion red and blotchy, a muscle in her cheek twitching in anger. Harry saw it, but chose to ignore it. "Now, listen to me, Harry Potter, and listen well, for I will only say it once, and I will not go back on my decision," her voice had started out low and with an angry quiver, but rose with every word she spoke. "I have been with you every. Bloody. Step. Of the way. I will NOT stop now. Do you understand that, Harry?!"

Her loud statement of the truth had only released the real reason for why Harry did not wish for her to go. "I don't want TO LOSE YOU!"

"YOU CAN'T!" Her final shout had been so loud that her voice had echoed off the walls of the empty room, giving a finality to her statement that couldn't be ignored and left no room for words. Only a thick, uncomfortable tension that ran between the two, leaving them with uneven breaths and dishevelled thoughts.

Harry tried several times to reply as his mouth opened and closed continuously, making him seem a fish out of water. He cleared his throat, tried again, and failed again. He tore his gaze from her. In the midst of their arguing they'd stood up in front of each other so close together that their toes were touching. It might have been intimidating while shouting, now, it was unsettling. He finally spoke, but his eyes didn't turn to her. "Look, Hermione," he began threading his fingers with hers. "I'm sorry. I know you could defeat Voldemort and all the Death Eaters on your own if you wished to, and the Bureau needs you, but.I don't know what I'd do if something were to happen to you," he admitted finally, terrified to realize that his voice was now raspy and as shaky as the fingers that held hers, a thick lump in his throat making his breathing difficult.

Her vision blurred as the truth that she already knew was revealed, but she had to make him see. "Harry," her voice quivered even more than his, "I risk just as much, if not more, just sitting and waiting for a Death Eater to come and get me. I'm Mugblood," she reminded him. It hurt to say the obscenity, but it was true. Harry deserved better.

"You're the best witch alive, Hermione," he told her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, making her look at him. "Your blood has nothing to do with it. It's all mind and heart," and the sentence was just as final as Hermione's previous shout.

They didn't know how, but they ended up kissing again. It wasn't passionate or mind blowing or ground shaking, or at least it wasn't meant to. It was meant to be reassuring from one to the other and back, yet the ground shook just a little, and their mind had been only slightly winded, or so they told themselves. It was long lingering and sweet, and both of them treasured the moment because they knew, as though it were a mutual agreement, that it would both ignored it had ever happened.

As they parted with a gentle goodnight and reached their beds they both understood that they had needed that kiss just as much-if not, more-than the one that had anticipated it, but neither was ready to face what it could bring, for as things were at the moment, they were safe, and there was already so much change ahead of them. They didn't need to change what they had just yet.

And, with those lies they had taught themselves over the last few months they warred the night for sleep, losing their battle and hours of rest.

�*�

As Harry and Hermione expected, they had been the only two Gryffindors left in Hogwarts for the holydays. There were reasons for this, of course. The students didn't feel safe knowing that the infestation of the Quidditch field might be growing with the help of Cicciobello. Many wanted a rest from the aforementioned satanic doll. Others, mostly Muggle born students, didn't wish to stay among the wizarding folk during that period of the year. And there was, of course, the matter that destiny was desperately trying to push them in a direction that, they'd both realized, weren't ready to undertake quite yet. Too many things were stopping them.

So that left the two of them, with other thirteen peers, sharing the same table for the holiday meals. Three Ravenclaws, four Hufflepuffs, and six Slytherins. One of those just happened to be Malfoy, even if it seemed that his missing lackeys hadn't followed their boss quite as much in the school term as they might have earlier years.

In all honesty, they didn't give a bloody who was there. They'd managed to not spend to much time one with the other (not that they were openly ignoring one another, no), but what now, when there would be only the two of them in the common room or on any other Gryffindor ground? Spending the holiday as hermits didn't seem like a great idea to either of the two, so they just went on with things as usual, acting as though things had never changed. How was it that so far only Krista and Ron had caught on? Must have been just one of life's mysteries, they guessed.

In any case, they were now seated at the table, two brave lonely Gryffindors, being squared by six Slytherins who so hated the both of them.

This was prospecting to be a wonderful Christmas.

Thankfully, one of the Ravenclaws, and a Hufflepuff, were Quidditch players, so, involving both Harry, and, when possible, Malfoy-hostile as he might have been-they managed to get a pretty civilized conversation going, centred around the aforementioned sport.

One of the Hufflepuffs, at a certain point, managed to steer the conversation onto Ginny Weasley, since Harry and Hermione were both so close to her. "She was going out with one of my mates, but she up broke with him right before leaving for holiday and now he's into one of those 'I hate all women' crisis," he explained. He was obviously going to ask for advice, or at least their opinion, but he was interrupted by a sneering voice.

"Serves him right for shagging a Weasley," there was no need to clarify who the sneer might have belonged to. Malfoy.

"Actually, she wouldn't shag him," the Hufflepuff countered.

"What a prude!" Was Malfoy's huffed reply.

Another annoyed voice joined the conversation. "She happens to be in love with someone else," Hermione spit at him.

He huffed. "Right," he mumbled sarcastically. Hermione, however, detected the jealousy and uncertainty in his voice.

"He's a Slytherin," she decided to explain, "she tries to forget him with other boys, but when things get deep she feels guilty and turns back," she finished sadly. She herself had done much the same thing when she'd discovered her true feelings for Harry.

Malfoy's face became an ugly purple sneer. "She should!" He snapped, referring to Ginny Weasley's attempt at forgetting the Mystery Slytherin. "No Slytherin would ever get with a Gryffindor. Much less that one," there was so much venom in his voice that Hermione felt a quiver of fear overrun her spine. But she knew better. She guessed that was just his way of dealing with such matters.

Crossing her arms over her chest and wearing a mask of defiance she let him know exactly what she thought of his childish behaviour, and it didn't take much at all to do that. "If I didn't know you better," she began, "I'd say you were jealous, Malfoy."

He didn't reply, but she noticed that his left eyebrow was twitching in anger. He just stood and left without a word or a look back. The rest of the Slytherins looked ready to pounce on Hermione for what she'd said, so Harry took her wrist and half dragged her towards the library with an unnecessary, "Lets go."

They reached the library a short time later and went to the secluded table where they had left their studying supplies, along with Lily's diary, before heading to lunch. Hermione had a tall stack of books piled up, most of them-strangely enough-seemed to be about Divination. Walking around the table to sit next to the Leaning Tower of Books she pushed the diary toward Harry. "You read for now, Harry," she commended, "I have something I want to check into," she explained. It had been a while that one of Lily's premonitions had been tugging at the back of her mind. It was the one about the boy with the lightning shaped squiggle on his forehead-Harry, there was no doubt of that-and his light. It just sounded so familiar, and she knew it was of great importance, but she just couldn't remember where else she might have read something of the sort.

Harry wasn't too happy of the idea of reading the diary himself, he'd gotten so used to Hermione's voice retelling his mother's thoughts that it would seem strange to him otherwise. However, he shrugged. He knew very well that when she began a research nothing was to get in her way. Least of all: him.

One of the very first entries that he read was another one of "Lightning Boy" as she'd playfully begun to call him, and, immediately, Hermione dropped her quill and gave Harry her full attention, hoping for something more, some other clue to indicate where she had to take her research, but to no avail. This vision had even less details than the ones before it. Maybe it was because it regarded the future, and not the present or past-as most of the others seemed to-but her visions of Harry were not very clear at all.

Many of the other entries were regarding Jenna and the help that she was lending Lily in the dealing of James and his jealous girlfriend Kiana (who had figured out almost instantly that she wasn't the first in James's heart). Hermione listened only half heartedly as she was pouring over the tomes discussing a topic she cared absolutely nothing about. She was thankful that Lily, despite her powers, had not taken Divination as one of her subjects. Maybe her "Inner Eye" told her ahead of time what a crock that course actually was.

An interesting retelling came up after a Prefects' Meeting in which Lily had an argument over James Potter with one Severus Snape. Recently, he'd been popping up a lot more in her diary.

        I don't know, exactly, why Severus is so set against James, but today he spoke things that made me doubt someone that I thought I would never doubt. I know what he said is not true, but I can't help but wonder.

        It all started right after the meeting was over and we were heading back to our Common Rooms. Even if the are on opposite sides of the school, strangely enough we had a long path to walk together, and so we filled up the time with distant cold conversation. We are of opposite houses, after all.

        When he steered the conversation onto James, I knew he was going to say something horrible about him, he always does, but when he called him a criminal I saw red.

        I yelled at him there, in the middle of the hall, uncaring if it was deserted or not (thank God it was), and I gave him quite the piece of my mind of what I thought of James and of him. I told him he didn't know anything about James, what he was like or what he thought or even who he was. All he knew was the prankster that liked to torture Slytherins for fun. Like they didn't do the same to us.

        I think I was yelling, but I couldn't be sure, all I know is that when I was done (quite a while later) my throat was hoarse and he looked unscathed. I'm sure he's aware of what I feel for James (he even said he saw me the night I kissed him, and the time he cried in my arms over the loss of his family) and he probably thinks that I'm blinded because of them.

        For a while he didn't say anything. Then, "I wonder if your trust in him is so well placed."

        I don't know how, but my voice was hard and icy when I replied him. "Oh, believe me, Severus. It is."

        "Do you, by any chance know where he disappears every month with the rest of his followers?"

        That stopped me in my tracks. My visions had given me indications of where he might be, or even what he might be doing, but their meaning was still eluding me, probably because I'm not ready to face it. I know James isn't a criminal, but I can't prove it to Snape. I shook my head no.

        He repeated that maybe my trust was badly placed and walked off, leaving me with these doubts that are plaguing me. Where is it that James goes, and what does he do? Why can't he tell me? And why, for the love of him, does he come back with scratches and bruises?

        I wish I knew.

Harry and Hermione were quiet for a few seconds, and then Hermione spoke. "As scary as the thought may be, Harry," she ventured, "Snape sounds interested in your mom."

A visible shudder coursed through Harry's body. "That is scary!" He exclaimed, but then knit his eyebrows in thought. "But it can't be," he said mostly to himself. "I don't think he'd hate me so much if he did."

"Think about it, Harry," Hermione tried to reason. "You're your father's portrait. What if he didn't hate your father because of what happened at the Shrieking Shack, but because your mom loved him regardless?" She asked in thought. Why did she always have to make such sound assumptions.

Harry desperately tried to find a fault in her reasoning. "You don't think that's possible, right?" He asked, knowing that she wouldn't have brought it up if she hadn't thought it a probability.

"I don't know, it's plausible," she mumbled, "but why would he have turned Death Eater if he fancied a Muggle Born? It doesn't make sense under that aspect."

Harry's face lit up at that. "Good!" He exclaimed. "I don't like that idea."

A new voice broke in. "How can you know Snape's a Death Eater?" They turned to see Draco Malfoy looking at them curiously. How long had he been standing there?

"He WAS," Hermione corrected, "but we're not sure if he still is," she explained.

"I don't think he does either," he replied.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"He can still be saved," Malfoy said enigmatically, "unlike others."

"Are you talking about your parents, or yourself?" Hermione asked, interest seriously piqued by the argument.

"Does it make a difference?" He'd sounded almost hopeless when he'd asked that.

"It does if you write to Ginny," Hermione replied. Harry looked at her askance, and Malfoy left wordlessly for the second time in only a few hours. She hoped he would write that letter.

To be continued. Author's note: Haha, thought I'd forgotten about D/G, huh? Anyway, I don't think I have any particular ramblings this time, so I'll just tell you that in the next chap Draco does write that letter, Lily's sixth year and a ball, and Harry and Hermione actually say WHY they're so afraid to get together. Will they do anything about it? Read and find out. Anyway, liked it, hated it, wanna flame me? Go ahead, I'll have a BBQ. Just let me know what you think at [email protected] or simply leave a review. Thanks Love, Pearl