Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Resuscitation of Agapé ❯ Dank Confessional ( Chapter 3 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: jessica_x 
...in which we finally get to the bottom of things.
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Romance / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.25.2004 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 685 | Status: Completed
...in which we finally get to the bottom of things.
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Romance / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.25.2004 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 685 | Status: Completed
Harry Potter and the Resuscitation of Agapé
Year 6 At Hogwarts
A.K.A., "There's Something About Hermy" (silly Duchess!)
by Jessica X
************************************************************************ *****
LEGAL NOTICE: Harry Potter, all names, characters, and related concepts are ©1997 J.K. Rowling. And I guess Warner Bros., even though they're merely milking her grand idea. This work of fiction and all concepts unique to it are ©2004 by Jessica X.
WARNING LABEL: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS. RATED R FOR MILD VIOLENCE/LANGUAGE, AND MATURE THEMES.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Reviews! Reviews are good! Much thanks to both of you who praised me (and even to the one of you that didn't).
Okay. So this is the one where I introduce the adult content. As previously stated, it's mature, but not quite lemony. It is a bit shocking, though, so if you have an extremely weak constitution, you may want a bucket nearby (don't worry, it's nothing gory; nobody gets decapitated, haha). I do hope you enjoy it, and be sure to let me know what you think!
************************************************************************ *****
~*~ Chapter Three: Dank Confessional
It seemed to Harry that the days flew by after this incident. Madam Pomfrey had assured Hermione that her shining lips were nothing serious, and that they would go back to normal on their own eventually; in the week that had taken, she'd had to endure ridicule from Pansy Parkinson, and the rest of the girls in the school begging her for the spell she'd used. Cho smiled and waved at Harry every time they passed in the hall, which he supposed contributed to the quickened passage of time. That, combined with homework and rigorous Quidditch practices (Ginny, while a bit friendlier about it, turned out to be as much of a slavedriver as Oliver Wood had been), all but completely drove Hermione's secret from his mind. Or it did, that is, until the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term was upon them. As he was returning from another gruelling session on the pitch the night before, she stopped him in the common room.
"Don't forget your cloak," she said quietly, then waved brightly and turned toward the stairs to her dormitory.
"Where will we be... er, going?"
"I'll tell you tomorrow," she replied without a backward glance.
The helpless, confused feeling that the past weeks had so well buried returned in full force as he walked into his dorm and gently set his Firebolt next to his trunk. The knowledge that he would know what this was all about before night fell again did little to ease this.
As he was pulling on his pajamas, Ron dragged himself through the door.
"My dear sister's going to do us in," he grumbled, letting his Cleansweep Eleven fall from his hand and flopping face-down on his bed.
"We have to break in our new Chasers, don't we?"
"We're still breaking in our terrible Beaters," came Ron's muffled voice. "Those two do more harm than good, really." He looked up at Harry. "I suppose you and Cho will be running off to snog in that cafe tomorrow?"
Harry almost said "no," then thought better of it. "We'll see." It would make a perfect excuse to get away with Hermione, wherever they were going.
"Figures. I'll probably end up chugging butterbeer in The Three Broomsticks all day." Harry had a sneaking suspicion he would, if only to gaze longingly at Madam Rosmerta. "Well, night, then."
"Night."
But as he lay there in the semi-darkness, he found he could not fall asleep. It was like Christmas Eve at the Dursley's; anxiety as to what sort of bland, dreadful gift he'd be receiving the next day permeated his thoughts. Eventually, forcing himself to dwell on the knowledge that he would know soon enough, he managed to drift off, dreaming dreams of Quidditch, in which the Golden Snitch had blue, glittering lips that kept squealing, "Don't forget your cloak!"
~*~
The wind was howling, whipping at the hems of their robes, as Harry, Ron and Hermione walked down the path to Hogsmeade. Ron was flipping a Sickle like a gangster in an old movie, save for the fact that he kept dropping it.
"Bloody wind," he mumbled, dropping it again.
As he bent to pick it up, Harry gave Hermione a significant look and patted his bag. She nodded slightly, pressing a finger to her lips briefly as Ron jogged to catch up to them.
"So," he said, finally pocketing the coin in defeat, "where to first?"
"Honeydukes?" Hermione shrugged. "Always a good place to start."
As they entered the sweetshop, Ron made for the large barrel of Fizzing Whizbees, and Hermione pulled Harry behind a stack of Chocolate Frog cases.
"In a bit," she whispered. "Let's... just enjoy ourselves for a while."
Harry felt a twinge of annoyance, but nodded. After all, they didn't get to visit Honeydukes terribly often, and he did want to stock up on sweets.
They made quite the day of it, spending nearly an hour in Honeydukes, and even longer in Zonko's, which, to Harry's amazement, was now carrying a few of Fred and George's products, including their superb fake wands and their infamous Skiving Snackboxes. They were just heading down the road toward The Three Broomsticks when Ron dropped the bag of things he'd bought.
"Cripes," he spat, bending down to shovel things back into it. Harry started forward to aid him, but Hermione hurriedly pulled him down a nearby alley.
"Now, hurry!"
"What-"
"The cloak!"
Glancing around, Harry whipped it out of his bag, throwing it over both of them. She led him down the street away from the tavern. He felt a pang as he heard Ron call, "Harry? Hermione?"
"Why can't we tell him, too?" he whispered.
But she merely shushed him and continued doggedly down the High Street, passing shops, students, and townsfolk. He realized the bustling village was giving way to lush, vivid country, and then he saw a familiar stile.
"Are we going to the-"
"Shh!" But she nodded.
Indeed, they carefully climbed over the stile, up the side of the craggy mountain beyond, and into the cozy cave where Sirius and Buckbeak had hidden nearly two years ago.
"Okay," Harry gasped, throwing the cloak and his bag in a corner. He took a moment to catch his breath, then continued. "We're here, I suppose."
She nodded, panting herself.
"So, out with it."
But Hermione did not speak. She walked slowly over to the cave wall, turned, and sat down, her chest still heaving. Harry hesitated, then sat down in front of her. A few moments passed in silence as they rested from their tedious climb, Harry staring at her expectantly, Hermione staring resolutely at the floor to his right.
"Hermione-"
"I can't."
Harry blinked, then felt the annoyance he'd buried flaring up. "But we came all the way-"
"I can't do it, I just... I just can't."
"Look," he said louder than he meant to, nostrils flaring. "I'm getting sick of this! I'm up a wall, and you're backing out! Either tell me what's gotten into you, or-"
"Or what?" she said in a small voice, looking up at him. "You won't speak to me again?"
"Maybe." He didn't mean it in the slightest, but being kept in the dark was beginning to grate on his nerves.
"That's exactly what I've been afraid of. That you won't want to speak to me again."
Harry felt his brow knit. "Why-"
"Oh, Harry, let's just forget it!" she moaned desperately. "We can go catch up with Ron, he's probably-"
"No." His voice was adamant. "I want to know what's been bugging you... before I end up in the Closed Ward."
She gazed at him for a long moment, and by the look on the half of her face he could see in the dim light from the narrow cave mouth, she had completely changed her mind about telling him. What she finally said, however, was the opposite of how she appeared to be feeling.
"I guess I have no choice now."
The defeat in her voice was so painful to Harry's ears that he almost didn't want to know. But curiosity and concern won out, and he stayed silent.
"Swear to me." Her eyes had returned to the floor.
"I already-"
"I need you to say it again. If anyone else were to ever hear what I am about to tell you, I would leave Hogwarts, and I daresay you would never find me."
Harry could not believe she had just said such a thing. As important as school was to Hermione...
"You... you haven't... killed anyone, have you?"
To his surprise, she laughed - the same empty laugh as she had done on the train. "No, of course not. It's not really something I've done."
"Then have you found out something? I mean, something you ought not to have?" His muscles tensed. "Is someone after you?"
She shook her head, still smiling in a very sad way.
"Are you... pregnant?"
Her head jerked up indignantly. "No! Good LORD, no!"
"Well, I am sort of grasping at straws, here," he said irritably.
"I'm sorry." It wasn't a half-hearted, dismissive apology; she was staring at him hard, and every syllable increased the obvious strain etched into her face. "I truly am sorry, Harry, you'll never know how horribly, desperately so. Just... please, you've got to say it again, I... I need to hear it."
Harry looked at her for a moment, not knowing what to say. Then, with a decent amount of cheek, he slapped a hand over his heart. "I, Harold James Potter, do hereby solemnly swear that if I ever were to reveal that which I am about to hear, I will march straight into the Forbidden Forest and call the first centaur I see an 'ignorant mule'." He dropped the hand. "Good enough?"
She smiled again, and this time a twinkle of amusement crept into her sad eyes. "Good enough." Then the smile fell away as if it had never been there. She breathed deeply, undoubtedly steeling herself for what she was about to do.
"This has nothing to do with anyone else, and as I've said, it's nothing of my doing. It's about me and me alone." She paused. "I'm not exactly who you think I am."
"What... what do you mean?"
"Oh, I've always been Hermione Granger... I'm not some Slytherin spy who's been drinking Polyjuice Potion for five years or any rubbish like that. I've just... never been completely honest about who I am... _what_ I am."
As she paused again, Harry ventured a guess. "Are you a... morphmagus?"
"No... but you're closing in on it. As with metamorphmagi, this is how I've been since the day I was born."
"Please, just tell me, already! The suspense is going to snuff me before you finish!"
At this, to his utter bewilderment, she burst into tears. Unsure of what to do, he raised a hand gingerly toward her arm, but she jerked it out of his reach.
"Don't touch me."
"You... you didn't want me to touch you on the train, either... even though you never said."
She merely nodded, her hands covering her face as she cried.
"But... why? Have you been..." It was such an ugly thing to say, but it had to be asked. "Has someone been... taking advantage of you?"
But she shook her head. Harry's mind was now completely blank.
"Harry," she finally breathed, attempting to stem the flow of her tears. "You know that some people are born... different, right?"
"Yeah, sure, but-"
"That's me. I was born with a birth defect. Even though my parents and... and the doctors always told me it wasn't a defect, that's what it is, really."
"Well, it wasn't a mental defect, as you're dead clever." He'd said this in hopes of cheering her up, and it seemed to work to some degree; she lowered her hands and flashed him a watery smile.
"Oh, Harry..." She put a hand on his cheek, which he didn't know what to think of. "You're a true friend. I don't deserve such a friend, but... I don't want to lose you."
He patted her hand tentatively. "You won't. I swear to that, as well." He squirmed indecisively, then said, "Look, I can tell you really don't want to do this. Maybe we can leave it for another-"
"No." She lowered her hand, placing it with the other one in her lap. "I've gone this far. Now or never."
As "never" seemed quite long to worry over this, Harry said nothing.
"I was born with a certain... irregularity. The common practice with this uncommon defect is to perform surgery straight after birth... but my parents, you see, are far too guilty of agapé to stand for that."
"Agappy?"
"Ah-GAH-Pay," she sounded out slowly. "Unconditional love. They didn't care what I looked like, or how badly I was disfigured... I was their daughter, and they loved me anyway. How stupid of them," she added bitterly.
"But you look fine to me."
She grinned wryly. "Not been using your cloak to slip into the girls' bath, I see. Good boy, Harry."
"I'm not a bloody pervert!"
She laughed, a bit more joyfully this time, but not for very long. Still smiling, as if it would make what she was about to say less painful, she suddenly blurted it out.
"I'm a hermaphrodite."
~*~ To Be Continued
Year 6 At Hogwarts
A.K.A., "There's Something About Hermy" (silly Duchess!)
by Jessica X
************************************************************************ *****
LEGAL NOTICE: Harry Potter, all names, characters, and related concepts are ©1997 J.K. Rowling. And I guess Warner Bros., even though they're merely milking her grand idea. This work of fiction and all concepts unique to it are ©2004 by Jessica X.
WARNING LABEL: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS. RATED R FOR MILD VIOLENCE/LANGUAGE, AND MATURE THEMES.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Reviews! Reviews are good! Much thanks to both of you who praised me (and even to the one of you that didn't).
Okay. So this is the one where I introduce the adult content. As previously stated, it's mature, but not quite lemony. It is a bit shocking, though, so if you have an extremely weak constitution, you may want a bucket nearby (don't worry, it's nothing gory; nobody gets decapitated, haha). I do hope you enjoy it, and be sure to let me know what you think!
************************************************************************ *****
~*~ Chapter Three: Dank Confessional
It seemed to Harry that the days flew by after this incident. Madam Pomfrey had assured Hermione that her shining lips were nothing serious, and that they would go back to normal on their own eventually; in the week that had taken, she'd had to endure ridicule from Pansy Parkinson, and the rest of the girls in the school begging her for the spell she'd used. Cho smiled and waved at Harry every time they passed in the hall, which he supposed contributed to the quickened passage of time. That, combined with homework and rigorous Quidditch practices (Ginny, while a bit friendlier about it, turned out to be as much of a slavedriver as Oliver Wood had been), all but completely drove Hermione's secret from his mind. Or it did, that is, until the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term was upon them. As he was returning from another gruelling session on the pitch the night before, she stopped him in the common room.
"Don't forget your cloak," she said quietly, then waved brightly and turned toward the stairs to her dormitory.
"Where will we be... er, going?"
"I'll tell you tomorrow," she replied without a backward glance.
The helpless, confused feeling that the past weeks had so well buried returned in full force as he walked into his dorm and gently set his Firebolt next to his trunk. The knowledge that he would know what this was all about before night fell again did little to ease this.
As he was pulling on his pajamas, Ron dragged himself through the door.
"My dear sister's going to do us in," he grumbled, letting his Cleansweep Eleven fall from his hand and flopping face-down on his bed.
"We have to break in our new Chasers, don't we?"
"We're still breaking in our terrible Beaters," came Ron's muffled voice. "Those two do more harm than good, really." He looked up at Harry. "I suppose you and Cho will be running off to snog in that cafe tomorrow?"
Harry almost said "no," then thought better of it. "We'll see." It would make a perfect excuse to get away with Hermione, wherever they were going.
"Figures. I'll probably end up chugging butterbeer in The Three Broomsticks all day." Harry had a sneaking suspicion he would, if only to gaze longingly at Madam Rosmerta. "Well, night, then."
"Night."
But as he lay there in the semi-darkness, he found he could not fall asleep. It was like Christmas Eve at the Dursley's; anxiety as to what sort of bland, dreadful gift he'd be receiving the next day permeated his thoughts. Eventually, forcing himself to dwell on the knowledge that he would know soon enough, he managed to drift off, dreaming dreams of Quidditch, in which the Golden Snitch had blue, glittering lips that kept squealing, "Don't forget your cloak!"
~*~
The wind was howling, whipping at the hems of their robes, as Harry, Ron and Hermione walked down the path to Hogsmeade. Ron was flipping a Sickle like a gangster in an old movie, save for the fact that he kept dropping it.
"Bloody wind," he mumbled, dropping it again.
As he bent to pick it up, Harry gave Hermione a significant look and patted his bag. She nodded slightly, pressing a finger to her lips briefly as Ron jogged to catch up to them.
"So," he said, finally pocketing the coin in defeat, "where to first?"
"Honeydukes?" Hermione shrugged. "Always a good place to start."
As they entered the sweetshop, Ron made for the large barrel of Fizzing Whizbees, and Hermione pulled Harry behind a stack of Chocolate Frog cases.
"In a bit," she whispered. "Let's... just enjoy ourselves for a while."
Harry felt a twinge of annoyance, but nodded. After all, they didn't get to visit Honeydukes terribly often, and he did want to stock up on sweets.
They made quite the day of it, spending nearly an hour in Honeydukes, and even longer in Zonko's, which, to Harry's amazement, was now carrying a few of Fred and George's products, including their superb fake wands and their infamous Skiving Snackboxes. They were just heading down the road toward The Three Broomsticks when Ron dropped the bag of things he'd bought.
"Cripes," he spat, bending down to shovel things back into it. Harry started forward to aid him, but Hermione hurriedly pulled him down a nearby alley.
"Now, hurry!"
"What-"
"The cloak!"
Glancing around, Harry whipped it out of his bag, throwing it over both of them. She led him down the street away from the tavern. He felt a pang as he heard Ron call, "Harry? Hermione?"
"Why can't we tell him, too?" he whispered.
But she merely shushed him and continued doggedly down the High Street, passing shops, students, and townsfolk. He realized the bustling village was giving way to lush, vivid country, and then he saw a familiar stile.
"Are we going to the-"
"Shh!" But she nodded.
Indeed, they carefully climbed over the stile, up the side of the craggy mountain beyond, and into the cozy cave where Sirius and Buckbeak had hidden nearly two years ago.
"Okay," Harry gasped, throwing the cloak and his bag in a corner. He took a moment to catch his breath, then continued. "We're here, I suppose."
She nodded, panting herself.
"So, out with it."
But Hermione did not speak. She walked slowly over to the cave wall, turned, and sat down, her chest still heaving. Harry hesitated, then sat down in front of her. A few moments passed in silence as they rested from their tedious climb, Harry staring at her expectantly, Hermione staring resolutely at the floor to his right.
"Hermione-"
"I can't."
Harry blinked, then felt the annoyance he'd buried flaring up. "But we came all the way-"
"I can't do it, I just... I just can't."
"Look," he said louder than he meant to, nostrils flaring. "I'm getting sick of this! I'm up a wall, and you're backing out! Either tell me what's gotten into you, or-"
"Or what?" she said in a small voice, looking up at him. "You won't speak to me again?"
"Maybe." He didn't mean it in the slightest, but being kept in the dark was beginning to grate on his nerves.
"That's exactly what I've been afraid of. That you won't want to speak to me again."
Harry felt his brow knit. "Why-"
"Oh, Harry, let's just forget it!" she moaned desperately. "We can go catch up with Ron, he's probably-"
"No." His voice was adamant. "I want to know what's been bugging you... before I end up in the Closed Ward."
She gazed at him for a long moment, and by the look on the half of her face he could see in the dim light from the narrow cave mouth, she had completely changed her mind about telling him. What she finally said, however, was the opposite of how she appeared to be feeling.
"I guess I have no choice now."
The defeat in her voice was so painful to Harry's ears that he almost didn't want to know. But curiosity and concern won out, and he stayed silent.
"Swear to me." Her eyes had returned to the floor.
"I already-"
"I need you to say it again. If anyone else were to ever hear what I am about to tell you, I would leave Hogwarts, and I daresay you would never find me."
Harry could not believe she had just said such a thing. As important as school was to Hermione...
"You... you haven't... killed anyone, have you?"
To his surprise, she laughed - the same empty laugh as she had done on the train. "No, of course not. It's not really something I've done."
"Then have you found out something? I mean, something you ought not to have?" His muscles tensed. "Is someone after you?"
She shook her head, still smiling in a very sad way.
"Are you... pregnant?"
Her head jerked up indignantly. "No! Good LORD, no!"
"Well, I am sort of grasping at straws, here," he said irritably.
"I'm sorry." It wasn't a half-hearted, dismissive apology; she was staring at him hard, and every syllable increased the obvious strain etched into her face. "I truly am sorry, Harry, you'll never know how horribly, desperately so. Just... please, you've got to say it again, I... I need to hear it."
Harry looked at her for a moment, not knowing what to say. Then, with a decent amount of cheek, he slapped a hand over his heart. "I, Harold James Potter, do hereby solemnly swear that if I ever were to reveal that which I am about to hear, I will march straight into the Forbidden Forest and call the first centaur I see an 'ignorant mule'." He dropped the hand. "Good enough?"
She smiled again, and this time a twinkle of amusement crept into her sad eyes. "Good enough." Then the smile fell away as if it had never been there. She breathed deeply, undoubtedly steeling herself for what she was about to do.
"This has nothing to do with anyone else, and as I've said, it's nothing of my doing. It's about me and me alone." She paused. "I'm not exactly who you think I am."
"What... what do you mean?"
"Oh, I've always been Hermione Granger... I'm not some Slytherin spy who's been drinking Polyjuice Potion for five years or any rubbish like that. I've just... never been completely honest about who I am... _what_ I am."
As she paused again, Harry ventured a guess. "Are you a... morphmagus?"
"No... but you're closing in on it. As with metamorphmagi, this is how I've been since the day I was born."
"Please, just tell me, already! The suspense is going to snuff me before you finish!"
At this, to his utter bewilderment, she burst into tears. Unsure of what to do, he raised a hand gingerly toward her arm, but she jerked it out of his reach.
"Don't touch me."
"You... you didn't want me to touch you on the train, either... even though you never said."
She merely nodded, her hands covering her face as she cried.
"But... why? Have you been..." It was such an ugly thing to say, but it had to be asked. "Has someone been... taking advantage of you?"
But she shook her head. Harry's mind was now completely blank.
"Harry," she finally breathed, attempting to stem the flow of her tears. "You know that some people are born... different, right?"
"Yeah, sure, but-"
"That's me. I was born with a birth defect. Even though my parents and... and the doctors always told me it wasn't a defect, that's what it is, really."
"Well, it wasn't a mental defect, as you're dead clever." He'd said this in hopes of cheering her up, and it seemed to work to some degree; she lowered her hands and flashed him a watery smile.
"Oh, Harry..." She put a hand on his cheek, which he didn't know what to think of. "You're a true friend. I don't deserve such a friend, but... I don't want to lose you."
He patted her hand tentatively. "You won't. I swear to that, as well." He squirmed indecisively, then said, "Look, I can tell you really don't want to do this. Maybe we can leave it for another-"
"No." She lowered her hand, placing it with the other one in her lap. "I've gone this far. Now or never."
As "never" seemed quite long to worry over this, Harry said nothing.
"I was born with a certain... irregularity. The common practice with this uncommon defect is to perform surgery straight after birth... but my parents, you see, are far too guilty of agapé to stand for that."
"Agappy?"
"Ah-GAH-Pay," she sounded out slowly. "Unconditional love. They didn't care what I looked like, or how badly I was disfigured... I was their daughter, and they loved me anyway. How stupid of them," she added bitterly.
"But you look fine to me."
She grinned wryly. "Not been using your cloak to slip into the girls' bath, I see. Good boy, Harry."
"I'm not a bloody pervert!"
She laughed, a bit more joyfully this time, but not for very long. Still smiling, as if it would make what she was about to say less painful, she suddenly blurted it out.
"I'm a hermaphrodite."
~*~ To Be Continued