Loyalty and Trust

They had kept him in a cupboard! They called him a freak! It was horrible. How could they treat a little kid like that? Especially a nice, sweet, quiet kid like Harry! It took every ounce of loyalty and trust in her to promise not to tell anyone. Had it been anyone else, she would have done so in a heart beat - but this was Harry. He was strong, capable, and smart, and if he said he had things under control - who was she to question? Harry didn't seem like the sort of person who lets themselves suffer meaninglessly. There was a reason he wanted to stay with his relatives. She didn't understand it, but she didn't have to. She trusted him.

Anyway, it was really no surprise that Harry had a disdain for all things muggle, and thought that muggles weren't any good; no one in the muggle world had given him reason to believe otherwise.

Earlier in the summer time, she had sent him a letter inviting him to have dinner with her and her parents. He politely declined, and when she pressed him, she found out that he didn't like being around adult muggles.

"I'm sure your parents are perfectly good muggles, and everything. I'd just rather not meet them right now. I apologize if this seems rude, Hermione."

If it were anyone else, she'd be rather indignant about the whole thing, but it was Harry...a boy who grew up in a cupboard, and had nothing before he discovered magic. Why people like Malfoy and Nott looked down on muggles so much, she'd never understand – how many muggles had they actually met? - but Harry...that made sense, in a very sad, messed up sort of way.

It wasn't right, though. It would take time, but eventually, she'd show him how wonderful the muggle world could really be. First she'd show him muggle music and films, and then she'd introduce him to her parents, and after that, she'd take him to meet some of her friends.

She figured that since she was letting him teach her dark magic, he might be at least somewhat willing to learn something from her.

And on that note...

She could hardly believe it. Her learning dark magic. It was against the rules, and could get them in very big trouble, and on top of that, it was magic created to hurt people. But in the end she had to realize that what Harry had said those months ago had been correct – they really did need to learn to protect themselves.

A few months ago, her argument was clear.

Hogwarts is safe.

The professors at Hogwarts are equipped to, prepared for, and intent on protecting its students.

If (1) fails and Hogwarts is no longer safe, in light of (2), Hogwarts remains effectively safe.

But it wasn't that simple. Hogwarts wasn't safe – one of their professors had been possessed by You-Know-Who! How did that even happen? And moreover, a dangerous magical object had been kept at Hogwarts - as bait...just like Harry. She couldn't believe Professor Dumbledore would do something like that, and when Harry had shared his story, she had wanted to argue, saying that Harry had misunderstood, or something, but she couldn't bring herself to do it, in the end.

Harry was intelligent and honest. He wouldn't say these things unless he was sure. He wasn't trying to get attention or break rules for fun – the very thought made her scoff – he was just trying to understand why his parents had been murdered in front of him, and survive in the meantime. That wasn't unreasonable. It wasn't unfair.

In the end, Harry was right. They couldn't trust anyone, really. She really, really wanted to believe that the professors had their best interests at heart, and she did, for the most part...but she had also been made aware that they, like her and Harry, were just human, and made mistakes too. If she turned a blind eye and something happened next year, or the year after, and Harry got hurt, she'd hate herself for it. He'd warned her, and sitting beside him in the hospital wing, she'd seen with her own eyes how ruthless and unfair the real world actually was. Harry was a good person, a promising student, and just a kid, and there he'd been, lying in a hospital bed, after having been nearly murdered by a teacher. He was just a kid, and he'd nearly been killed by someone he was supposed to be able to trust. That was wrong, so wrong. And if she ignored all that, and Harry got hurt again...she didn't think she could handle it.

Harry had been right – it's not the magic itself, it's how you use it. That made sense. It was like anything else. Guns, knives, fists...muggles hurt each other too, and sometimes, there's a good reason. Sometimes, fighting is the right choice to make. So why was magic any different? Was there really something inherently evil about dark magic?

After Harry had been taken to the hospital, she'd felt horrible, because he had warned her that there were dangers at Hogwarts, and she ignored it, and so she'd ended up doing research, to keep her mind off things. She'd been shocked by what she found. No one had bothered to tell her this (of course), but jinxes, hexes, curses – technically all of them were dark magic. Anything that wasn't a charm or a healing spell or transfiguration really. They were taught the dark arts in their Hogwarts classes. It was just a matter of how dark things were. But where do you draw the line? Are curses that truly mean to cause serious harm the real dark arts? But what about charms that cause harm? Harry had decapitated a troll with a severing charm. An impossibly overpowered severing charm, but still, a charm. You could behead people with a charm. It was then that she realized – Harry had been right. It's not the magic itself, it's how you use it.

"You have to mean it," was what he always said when he tried to teach her something. It was true. Her spellwork had really improved once she'd taken his words to heart.

Yes, Harry Potter was truly an amazing person. In less than a year, he'd managed to teach her more than anyone else had ever before – whether it was about research, magic, or friendship. She only hoped she could repay him one day.

She was startled from her musings when a small bell rang and the shop door was pushed open. She looked at her watch - it was exactly 12:59 when Harry walked through the door, several shopping bags in hand.

She smiled at him, waving him over.

"Harry! I'm so happy that you made it!"

Harry smiled at her with that sheepish smile he almost always had on his face. "Me too."

She looked at him curiously. "How did you get here?"

"Oh, I asked my Uncle Vernon to drop me off in London on his way to work...I got there this morning, and -" here, he grimaced a bit "- went clothes shopping."

Hermione laughed. "Does that mean you'll throw out those old rags you're always wearing?"

"That's the plan."

At that moment, the waitress, Cayla Martins, walked up to them. The fifteen year old had a bright smile stretched across her glossy lips, her freckled cheeks painted softly with an ever-present rosy blush. Cayla was probably one of the prettiest girls she knew, she had realized recently.

"Oh, Hermione! It's lovely to see you! Where's your mother?"

"I-it's just me today," she replied quickly, "And my friend, Harry."

The waitress looked at Harry (who was looking at her intently with his head tilted to the side) and then back at her, and winked. "Do your parents know you're on a date?"

Hermione could feel her cheeks heating up, and she looked over at Harry, who was looking extremely puzzled now. "Oh no! It's nothing like that! Harry's just a friend from school."

"Your boarding school in Scotland?"

Hermione fought to remove the blush she knew was still on her face. "...that's right."

"Well, it's good you're making friends. Just make sure you don't make your boyfriend jealous by having this cute little guy around too often."

Hermione winced, stomach squirming oddly. "I don't have a boyfriend, Cayla."

"If you say so. Anyway, what can I get for you two?"

"Just a pot of earl grey," Hermione said, "You like earl grey, don't you, Harry?"

Harry just shrugged absently, still looking pretty puzzled, and a bit wary.

Cayla laughed. She had a lovely laugh. "One pot of earl grey it is."

Once she left, Harry immediately asked, "Is there something wrong with her?"

"W-what?"

"You were acting oddly, is all." His face turned grim. "That muggle -" he sounded very unhappy when he said the word "- didn't do something to you, did she, Hermione?"

She gaped at him. "No! No, it's nothing like that! It's just...just...nevermind. It doesn't matter."

"...if you're sure."

"I'm sure. So," she said, eager to change the topic, "What did you get?"

Harry peered into his bags. "Um...a pair of black jeans, a t-shirt, a button-up, a jumper, and a coat. Oh, and some new sneakers." He pulled a box of black and white high-top Converse sneakers out of the bag and grinned. "I saw them on the telly. The Dursleys think they look silly, which is why I bought them."

She laughed. "Well, I, for one, can't wait to see you in some real clothes."

"I hope I don't disappoint."

She shook her head with a fond smile, but then frowned. "I hope your uncle didn't give you any trouble."

Harry smiled wryly. "I'd be worried if he didn't. But I told him I'd set his shoes on fire if he didn't take me along with him."

"And he believed you?"

"Well, I've done it before."

"Harry!"

"What?" he said, looking genuinely confused. "I could have set him on fire, but I didn't. I thought that was rather nice of me."

Hermione shook her head. If she didn't know Harry to be such a kind, brave person, she'd no doubt think he was a sociopath. No, he wasn't a sociopath, she sometimes had to remind herself, he was just...socially inexperienced. Understandably so. "Well, I'm just happy you're here."

He smiled brilliantly at her. "Me too!" he chirped.

"So," she began, "Have you been reading anything interesting?"

....

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