Platonic Affection

Disclaimer: I don’t own.

A/N: It’s still Day 4.  I know I said that Hermione and Terry’s date was going to be in this chapter, but it’s not. Sorry for the delay. It’s been a bad start of the year or something. Thanks to Jessica for beta-ing.

…….

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are we out here again?”

“Because I like being outside at the lake in the mornings when no one else is around, Seamus.”

“I’m around.”

“You’re an exception.”

Silence.

“Dean?”

“Yes, Seamus?”

“Do you think that Hermione and Harry will ever get back together?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? You really think so? Why, Dean?”

“Because they love each other…”

“But if they love each other, then why is Hermione going on a date with Terry Boot today? Why aren’t they together now?”

“Because… maybe they don’t know it yet, Seamus. Maybe they don’t know just how much they really mean to each other.”

“What? How can they not know that?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Silence again.

“Er, what, Dean?”

…….

It felt like it was the longest week of his life, and it wasn’t even done yet. How did things go from just dandy one day, to Hermione dating Boot just four days after?

During breakfast, Harry kept his eyes on Hermione, of course, who was surprisingly sitting with Boot and all his Ravenclaw friends. They looked like they were having a good time. He couldn’t see Hermione’s facial expressions, only the back of her head. At one point, Hermione received a letter via owl.

Someone must have said something funny because Boot and all of his friends began laughing loudly. Harry saw Hermione raise her right arm and touch the side of her neck. Harry didn’t know whether it was psychological, but his own neck started to hurt a little. He touched his neck; he really missed Hermione’s massages, but not just that: he really missed Hermione. Hell, he even missed her nagging- no, her voice… her presence.

But why? Harry couldn’t figure it out, and everyone else seemed to know why- including Ron. Malfoy, the smarmy git, even called him stupid for not knowing why. But then again, Malfoy was the last person he’d want to get the answer from. He’d rather ask Snape- wait… never mind.

“-you have a plan for the murder?” Harry heard Ron ask. What? When had Ron started talking? Harry shook his head violently, to get it all together.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized. “What did you say? Start from the beginning.” His eyes were still glued to the back of Hermione’s head.

“I was just asking-“ Ron stopped to see where Harry’s gaze was: Hermione. Of course. Time to mess with him. “-what…type of owl food you feed Hedwig… ‘Cause she’s always looks so healthy. I’m thinking of changing food for Pig.”

No response.

“Harry?”

“Yes,” he answered, his attention not on Ron but his other best friend.

Ron grinned. “What kind of food?”

“Food?” Harry repeated, his reply slow.

“Yeah. That you feed Hedwig?”

“Oatmeal,” Harry replied absently as he saw Boot hand Hermione a bowl of it.

“Oatmeal?” Ron was amused. Poor Harry; he was so fixated on that… witch. “You feed your pet oatmeal?”

That must’ve taken Harry out of his stupor because he said, “What? I don’t feed Hedwig oatmeal.” His eyebrows were raised in question for Ron’s sanity.

“I just asked you what you fed her and you said ‘oatmeal.’”

“I must’ve- must’ve…” Harry’s voice faltered; his eyes darting back to Hermione, hoping that he didn’t miss anything important.

“I see,” Ron said. “You’re stalking our best friend.” He said it as if people did that all the time.

“I am not,” Harry denied, a hot flush creeping up his face. “I’m just looking out for her. Is there something wrong with that? I don’t want Boot to do anything to her.”

“Oh,” Ron started slowly, fully understanding. He nodded his head. “I get you, Harry. You’re jealous.”

“No,” Harry said hotly, “you don’t get me- at all- I’m not jealous, I’ve never been jealous, and I never plan to be jealous. Just because I don’t like Boot and think he should be murdered, it doesn’t mean I’m jealous. Just because I don’t think he deserves Hermione and believe that she could do so much better doesn’t mean that I’m jealous. Where did you get that idea- that I’m jealous?” He was on the verge of hurting someone and/or laughter.

“You’re jealous?” Seamus asked, who seemed to always jump in the conversations at the wrong time. He, Neville, and Dean were talking about something else, but he wasn’t about to miss out on Harry Potter finally admitting his true feelings for Hermione Granger. “Good on you, mate!” he congratulated. “It’s about time!”

“Time for what?” Harry asked irritably. He glared at Seamus.

Seamus furrowed his brows and frowned slightly in confusion. “Time that…time that,” he repeated, “…you-“

“I what?” he snapped impatiently.

“Relax, Harry,” Dean told him. “You know how dense he gets.” He sent an apologetic look to Seamus.

Harry did seem to relax. “Sorry, Seamus.” He sighed. “I’ve been losing my temper a lot lately. I think it’s this whole bet thing…”

Ron muttered under his breath, “You think?”

It was Harry’s next action that surprised everyone, including himself. He started walking up to Hermione. Neville gasped, and Harry heard Lavender Brown remind him shrilly, “We’ll be watching our wands!”

“Where’re you going, Harry?” Ron hissed. “Are you going to murder him now? We didn’t plan anything yet!”

But Harry wasn’t paying attention. He was completely fixated on a Hermione Granger.

…….

Hermione didn’t really remember how she ended up eating at the Ravenclaw Table with Terry Boot and all his friends. She remembered talking to her dorm mates Parvati and Lavender, but how they got her to tell them her ideal boyfriend, she would probably never know. She went to use the bathroom, walked out of the , and somehow… Hermione found herself eating with Terry.

Ugh, she thought. Did she really have to start calling him by his first name?

“Good morning, Hermione,” a boy greeted her she knew as the Ravenclaw prefect, Anthony Goldstein.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Morning,” she managed.

“Are you okay, Hermione?” Padma Patil asked. “You look a little lost.”

“Yeah, Hermione,” Terry cut in. “Are you?”

Hermione was a little irked that Terry didn’t give her time to answer Padma. But of course she didn’t show it. “I’m fine…and well,” she added. “Thanks…” She thought they probably wanted an explanation: “Didn’t sleep all too well last night… and then Lavender and Parvati were pestering me about something. They wouldn’t give up until I told them.”

Padma narrowed her eyes. “Oh, Hell. What did my twin sister do?”

“Nothing really,” Hermione lied, shrugging slightly. Like she would tell anyone. Terry and his group of friends then began asking her many questions; like, for example, who sent that letter that you just received?

“Mum,” she replied, not really wanting to get into it. She sighed, probably audibly, but no one asked her about it. She missed her boys: Harry and Ron. Yes, sometimes they were incredibly stupid; yes, they only listened to her when she threatened to hex them; and yes, they probably didn’t notice she was missing at all. But Ron was her Ron. And Harry was… her Harry. No question to it.

“Er, Hermione?” Anthony said. “Don’t turn your head now, but I think Harry’s staring at you.”

Terry looked for her. “Merlin’s beard, Hermione! You’ve got a stalker!” he exclaimed.

“A very bad one, mind you,” another added. “Not very discreet, is he?”

They, excluding Hermione and Padma, all began laughing rather loudly. Hermione could tell that her face was bright red because she could feel the heat. She had never felt more flustered ever in her life. This was worse than that time she got enormous buck teeth magically thanks to Malfoy. This was worse than that time Rita Skeeter wrote that article about her and Harry’s supposed relationship and Snape read it out loud in class. This-she didn’t know why-felt worse than when people thought she gave Harry a…love bite.

“I know he’s staring at you, Hermione,” Terry began, “but at what, exactly? Is it your hair?”

Hermione, if it was possible, turned even redder.

“Your neck?”

She touched the side of her neck lightly. Why would Harry be staring there? Did his miss her massages? Oh no! What if his neck was hurting again? Calm down, Hermione told herself. There’s nothing I can do about it.

“Your…” Terry looked down at Hermione.

“Oh, Merlin,” Padma groaned. “Harry Potter is not looking at Hermione’s arse, you pervert! How the fuck did you get into Ravenclaw? I bet Rowena Ravenclaw is rolling around in her grave right about now. Honestly.” Padma shook her head.

Padma, Hermione couldn’t help but notice, was a lot like herself- minus all the bitter curse words and comments she said weaved into her sentences.

“I got into Ravenclaw because the Sorting Hat said I’d do well here, not Rowena Ravenclaw,” Terry said haughtily. “And like I’ve heard, the Sorting Hat’s never wrong. Oatmeal, Hermione?” he asked pleasantly, giving her a bowl anyway.

“Er, thanks.”

She could’ve sworn that Padma was mimicking someone under her breath, “More than a box of ice mice, my friend, more than a box.” As Hermione began eating her oatmeal, she began to wonder: what was Harry doing, staring at her? Was she, perhaps, wearing different shoes?”

Hermione checked. Nope.

“We’ll be watching our wands!” Lavender’s voice rang annoyingly throughout the Great Hall.

“Could you get any stupider?” That was Padma asking the rhetorical question. “Hey, Hermione, do you know why Harry Potter’s walking over to you?”

“What?” Hermione turned her head. Harry was indeed walking up to her.

Hermione didn’t what was going on inside her. Was it possible to have a heart attack, to faint, and get a migraine all at the same time? It felt that way to her. And why was the place all of a sudden so hot? Good Gryffindor! Harry was here!

“Morning, Hermione,” Harry began. Hermione wondered who was redder of the two. “Could I possibly talk to you? Alone?” He looked at the Ravenclaws who were completely into this.

Hermione didn’t know what brought herself to say it: “Whatever you have to say you can say it in front of everybody.” Usually, just like Harry, she loved her privacy and hated it when there was none.

“Okay,” Harry began slowly. “Er…”

“Yes?” Hermione prompted.

“I don’t think that you should go on a date with Boot,” he blurted.

“What, Harry?” Hermione asked. “I couldn’t hear you. You spoke too fast.”

This time, he spoke more confidently and loudly, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to date with Terry Boot.”

Somewhere among the crowd of curious watchers, Hannah and Ernie squealed with glee and hugged each other. They did so too soon.

Hermione didn’t know what to do. Should she kill him or murder him? Rage overwhelmed her as she narrowed her eyes and said slowly but clearly, “What gives you the idea that I value your opinion so much that I wouldn’t go on a date with Terry?” Her fists were clenched, as if she were about to punch her best friend.

“What?” The Great Hall was deadly silent, and Hermione could tell that Harry hadn’t planned for her to be so angry.

“Why? Why shouldn’t I date Terry?”

“Because…because,” Harry stammered.

“Go on, mate,” Seamus coaxed. Hermione made a mental note to kill him later on.

“Because I think he doesn’t deserve you, and I think that you could do so much better. You shouldn’t date him.”

Hermione exhaled sharply. “I still don’t understand why you’re upset,” Hermione sniffed. “You’ve dated other people before. Why is this so different?”

Harry furrowed his eyes, genuinely confused. “Like who?”

“I don’t know, let’s see,” Hermione said mockingly, tapping her chin with her index finger. “Like Cho Chang?”

“That’s- that’s,” Harry reddened, “different!”

Hermione was furious. “How? How, Harry Potter? Would you care to enlighten me?”

“Because! Just because! It was ages ago, Hermione! I’ve forgotten all about it!”

“Well, I’ve got news for you, Harry. You can’t tell me who I can or can’t date,” she yelled hotly. And she wondered why she was so angry… that Harry cared about her so much. Maybe it was because he didn’t care  for her sooner, only when someone else came into the picture.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said to Harry and the interested crowd, “I’ve a letter to respond to.”

With that, Hermione was gone to Merlin-knows-where.

…….

“I’ve never seen such trouble in paradise,” Ron commented.

“There never was a paradise to begin with,” Harry muttered crossly. “I don’t even know why I’m upset. Hermione’s right. I can’t tell her who to date. I just-“ Harry rubbed his tired eyes “-don’t understand why it has to be Boot. Do you know how stupid that sounds? Hermione Boot? And I why am I worried that they’re going to run off and get married?” Harry asked confusedly.

“I don’t know,” Ron answered truthfully, shrugging. “Besides, it’s just one date. Maybe it’ll be a complete disaster.”

“Or a fiasco,” Harry added hopefully. He thought back of his first-ever date with Cho Chang. Now that was an utter mess.

“Or maybe,” Ron began slowly, his eyes growing wide, “we can make it one!”

“Ron,” Harry said, “you’re such a great friend to have around.”

And they began to plot.

…….

Dearest Hermione,

It’s Mum. Is everything alright, dear? You haven’t written back. Please don’t worry me, honey. It’s not good for me to panic. I hope you’re doing well in your studies.

Love,

Mum

P.S. Are you getting distracted by a boy?

Hermione could tell her mother just might jump in joy or pee in her pants due to excitement if she told her so. Two boys, actually, Hermione thought. But she would never tell her mother that.

She began to write back.