Something New From Something Old

A/N: Okay, this story switches point of view at some point. I’ll outline the POV switch but this is a pre-warning just so you know.

Something New From Something Old

Considering the possibilities, it was pretty idiotic of me to try to hide from her in the library. I mean, it's where she always is, rain or shine. So what in the world made me hide from her in here? Idiocy that’s what.

I saw her enter and look around the library for me. I even saw her check underneath the back tables, just in case I was avoiding her…which I am…but she doesn’t need to know that. I manoeuvred myself quickly, with the best cunning and stealth I could manage.

I just reached the large library door when, "Harry!"

Busted.

"I’ve been looking all over for you," Head Girl Hermione says with a smile as she walks up to me. "This was the last place I actually thought I’d find you, but hey, here you are!"

I manage a smile back, a fake one but it’s a smile none the less. "Yeah. I’m not usually in here am I."

"Err, no," she laughs a little and radiates another smile down my way.

Bloody hell.

I’d been avoiding it, been avoiding it like a good little Harry. I’d been avoiding this…I’d been avoiding her. I’d also been avoiding that little fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever she seemed to smile at me like that. Her eyes are sparkling and her smile is radiating and I’m losing my mind slowly, bit by tiny bit.

"You okay?" she asks opening the large door for me as we exit the library and my idiocy for being in their in the first place.

I nod. "Yeah, fine. Why?"

She looks at me oddly for a minute before shrugging and turning towards the large spiral staircase, leading up to the Gryffindor wing. "You just seemed a bit dazed for a moment."

"Oh," I offer in a rather stupid reply. "Well, err…I’ve had a lot to think about."

She stops suddenly and turns to me from in front. She puts her hand on my arm and looks me in the timid eye. "Are you sure you’re alright? Do you need to talk about anything?"

I shake my head and try to look as convincing as possible. "I’m sure, ‘Mione. I’m fine. I’d tell you if there was something wrong."

"I know you would," she breathes out, giving me a look of exasperation. "Are you sure you’ve got nothing you’d like to tell me?"

Yeah! You’re oblivious to see that I’m falling head over heels for you at 10 time the speed of light!

"I’m sure," I reply meekly.

She nods in what looks like defeat and turns from me, walking up the stairs and leaving me behind, even if that wasn’t her intention. Talk about emotional cut off.

You’d think I’d be a little more ‘vocal’ about my feelings for her. I guess you’d be wrong. I’m the Boy-Who-Lived. Destined to defeat Voldemort and his ilk.

They should add a new word to that title…The-Boy-Who Lived-ALONE. I’m always gonna be a loner, no one can change that. I can’t be dragging other people into my world of evil and corruptness. I have enough trouble trying to keep Hermione out of it every single year without having to deal with the consequences of a whole nation on my shoulders.

Listen to me babbling on with myself! I’ll be turning into Hermione soon; I’ll start ranting and raving about some unknown babble from a book that she picked up somewhere and how we should help prevent dandelions from being trodden into the Earth by evil feet and big boots.

Urgh! This isn’t fair! I’m blaming her for this and I know I shouldn’t be. I’ve got way too much to deal with right now, Hermione…so can my romantic feelings for you please take a back seat to saving the world yet again?

I walk back down the stairs, figuring that Hermione would be in the Gryffindor common room by now. She wouldn’t tell Ron though. Every ‘discussion’ we have that’s just between us, with no one else in the room, she likes to keep to herself. I don’t know why and I don’t bother asking.

Taking a few sharp corners without actually knowing where the hell I’m going, I wander into the girl’s dungeon bathroom, the one with the Chamber of Secrets entrance in it. There it is, the big stone pillar standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by basins.

With a flick of the breeze against my face, I hear some giggling coming from a nearby toilet and know exactly who it is.

"Hiya Myrtle," I say as I lean against the grimy wall. Only then do I realise that leaning against a damp, grimy wall in the middle of a dungeon and an unused bathroom isn't exactly the smartest thing to do. Jumping off the wall, my robe sticks to it and I have to peel the damn thing off the stones.

"Perfect," I mumble to myself.

Some more giggling occurs, and then Myrtle floats out of the toilet cubicle that she perished in with a grin on her face. "Oh, Hi Harry."

I smile back, still trying to pull the clods of slime off my robes. Opting for the best solution instead, I take off the robe and throw it on the concrete bathroom floor. I loosen up my tie and roll up my shirtsleeves so I don’t look stupid.

"Do something to your robes?" Myrtle asks, cocking her head to the side. "I’d do something to help, but I’m dead and so…"

"Yeah, I know, I know," I reply picking up the robes and surveying the grimy damage on the back. A good cleaning spell would be needed for them and since my wand was in my bedroom, I couldn’t perform it then and there.

Myrtle comes closer to me and sits on one of the basins. Well, not exactly sit, but float in the weird way ghosts do to give the ‘impression’ that they’re sitting.

"Had a fight with your friends?" She asks innocently.

Hopelessly, I drop the robes back on the floor and lean against one of the basins next to Myrtle instead. "No…just getting some space."

"You’ve been ‘getting some space’ for a while now," She replies looking at me with a much older look in her rather deceased eyes. "What’s wrong?"

This was unlike Myrtle. So unlike her I’d bet she was under the Imperious Curse or something but, from past experiences with that sort of thing, I had a good eye for spotting someone under that curse. Especially after the Mad-Eye Moody incident.

"Is it the red-headed one?" Myrtle asks. "Ron isn’t it? Is it him?"

For the first time in a while, I realise it isn’t Ron directly; more indirectly.

"Not directly," I reply folding my arms and thinking. "More like something he did."

Wow, where did that come from? When did Ron do anything to upset me? When did my mouth start speaking without my mind? When I put my foot in it about half an hour ago?

"Well, what did Ron do?" she asks.

What did Ron do?

"He…upset me," I manage weakly.

Myrtle chuckles. "You mean, he did something which you didn’t like? Which didn’t fit into your big plan of how everything’s supposed to be?"

That made so much sense. When did Moaning Myrtle start making sense? Or when did Moaning Myrtle actually listen to anyone else’s problems?

"I guess so," I reply, sighing slightly at my own blindness to the truth.

"How did he upset you?" Myrtle asks again, listening to my babble that I have no clue I had.

Taking in a deep breath I plunge in with no clue what I’m actually going to say at this point, "I guess it would’ve been when he blew up at Hermione about going to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum in fourth year."

Myrtle chuckles at me. "That was in fourth year Harry. Why has it affected you now?"

I shrug, "Dunno. It got to me at the time. He seemed really shook to the toes about it, even for Ron. It seemed to…scare him."

"Hermione going with Viktor…" she starts but I interrupt.

"No," I shake my head. "No, he was scared about how mad he was at her for going with Krum. It’s not like it even mattered, they were…are just good friends but…"

"You felt the same way Ron did at the time," she finishes for me. "You didn’t want to see Hermione with any other guy, even if it was just for a date."

I sigh again, unfolding my arms and bracing them on the edge of the white basin. "Seems so. I’ve seen her go on a date with Justin but…I don’t know. It just didn’t seem…right for her to be on the arm of some other bloke. It’s like…I just wanted to protect her from everything."

A dawned look flowed onto Myrtle face. She chuckles a little and smiles. "You wanted to be Viktor that day, huh?"

"In a way," I reply. "I want someone to explain to me why I feel this way."

"What way?" she asks checking one of her plaits hasn’t come undone.

I sigh a bellowing sigh that echoes around the bathroom. I look up to the ceiling and see the burn mark. The burn mark from when Hermione and I were practising charms in sixth year, I misfired and Hermione deflected it, stopping herself from growing a pair of extra floppy bunny ears.

"Like I’m losing my mind when I’m around her," I say honestly. "Like I’m gonna kill Ron every time he tries to annoy her purposefully, or when he upsets her accidentally. Like I’m going to be sick when I imagine her with Krum at the Yule Ball."

"It’s not worth thinking about the Yule Ball," Myrtle smiles happily. "It was three years ago. That’s the type of thing Ron would dwell on. You need to look at the things going on around you, Harry."

I look over at Myrtle who’s smiling with a wise look that I’d never expect her to have or have even seen before. She looks almost pretty with it.

Then she says, "You need to open your eyes."

I smile back and she goes to poke the bridge of my nose where my glasses lie but she can’t, because she’s a ghost. For a moment, I forgot she was a ghost. She seemed more corporeal to me for that conversation.

Safe to say I’ll never think of Myrtle the same again. She’s not Moaning Myrtle anymore. She’s just a soul who’s willing to help but gets…trapped sometimes.

"Take a look at what’s in front of you when you go back upstairs," she continues. "You’ll be surprised at what you find."

I stand up and look at the robe lying on the floor, covered in green slimy slime. I look back at Myrtle who’s still floating over the white basin and smiling knowingly.

"You know," I say, walking towards the robe lying on the floor. "I’d hug you if you weren’t…you know…"

"Dead?" She offers bluntly but with a laugh.

I think for a moment before replying, "No…short."

She laughs and it’s nice to make her laugh. I feel good finally as I pick up my robes and turn to leave the bathroom with a new lesson in life: conversing with the dead really helps sometimes.

"Harry?" She calls back and I turn around to look back her way. "Good luck with Hermione."

"Thanks," I say back before leaving the girl’s dungeon bathroom.

@@@@@@@@@@ ~~POV CHANGE~~@@@@@@@@@@

Oh, the nerve of that boy sometimes. Mysterious Harry Potter doesn’t deserve to be alive when he does that.

"No," I tell myself and stop in my tracks. Calmly I breathe out. "There is no need to think like that. Harry is your friend."

I just really didn’t need this today. Being all happy, acting all happy is more like it. Sometimes I wish I could just crawl away and hide but I know I can’t because I know that if I’m left alone with my own thoughts for too long they’ll start to invade my mind like little chess pieces, attacking the pawns first and then going for the big guns and then…

Oh God! It’s happening! I’m losing it! Think calm, controlled, rational thoughts. Your mind isn’t trying to attack itself with it’s own thoughts. Everything is fine. Everything is completely fine.

"Hermione?"

I turn to see Ginny walking down the corridor towards me. She looks happy but a little freaked, seeing as I was probably just talking to myself.

"You okay?" she asks, walking by my side up to the Gryffindor common room.

I nod, "Yeah, I’m fine. Just peachy."

"Ah yes, because your good mood is both obvious and contagious," Ginny quips and it’s a good one. Didn’t know Ginny could do that.

"Ha, funny," I reply sarcastically.

"Hermione, I’m worried," Ginny says looking at me again. "You’re having an expression."

"Yes, Ginny," I reply. "I’m having an expression. It’s kinda what people do when they have working face muscles."

Ginny holds up her hands in surrender. "Sorry. Just stating the facts. Are you sure you’re alright?"

I stop and put my hands on my hips, firmly staking my claim on this one spot on the Turkish carpet. "Honestly?"

Ginny nods.

"No. No, I’m not," I answer honestly. "I’m sick to bleeding death of Harry- Flaming-Potter and his I’m-a-loner attitude this month."

Ginny gives a small chuckle at me. "It’s not Harry’s fault that he’s God’s gift to the bell curve."

I laugh at Ginny’s remark. I’d forgotten how good at humour she’d got with age. Many people, including Ron and his brothers have told me that Ginny’s humour comes from her mother but I’ve never seen Mrs Weasley act humorously towards anyone before. Makes you wonder what life can do to people.

"All he’s been doing is avoiding me," I say walking up to the Fat Lady. "Chitty-Chitty."

What a stupid password. I’m positive it was Ron who thought of it.

"Bang-Bang," the Fat Lady laughs in reply.

Then again, a portrait with a pointless sense of humour could’ve had a hand in its evil creation.

Ginny and I enter the Gryffindor common room to find it pleasantly deserted. I glance at the clock to find it’s nearly midnight. Curfew was at eleven…

"What were you doing up and out this late anyway Ginny?" I ask the redhead just as she’s sitting down on the sofa.

"Busted, huh?" she grins. "I was visiting a sick friend in the Infirmary under permission."

My one eyebrow raises in suspicion. "Malfoy?"

She nods almost sheepishly but Ginny’s hardly ever insecure or sheepish, or shy for that matter.

"How are things with you two anyway?" I ask sitting down on the big comfy chair by the fire, finally getting some relaxation after patrolling the corridors with an extremely boring Justin…who’s a bit too much of a Princess Margaret for me to deal with.

Ginny shrugs, "Could be worse. We could actually be, you know, seeing each other more than once a week at the most but…beggars can’t be choosers. He has his problems to deal with, so do I."

"Had another fight?" I notice that her fist slightly tensed at the mention of problems.

"I only threw a book this time," Ginny admits smiling happily. "How are things with you and Harry?"

There is no me and Harry. "Could be better. We could actually be seeing each other. In both senses of the word."

"Still no leeway?" she asks folding her legs underneath her and taking off her school robe.

I shake my head. "Still no spark on his side."

Ginny shakes her head in disbelief. "There is definite spark, from the both of you. You’re both so alike in that respect. You’re both too stubborn to admit it to one another."

"I’m…I don’t know what I am," I say honestly, taking off my robe as well, swinging it over the back of the chair. "I’m in permanent tingle mode when he’s in the room. It’s beginning to get annoying."

Ginny smiles. "I’ve got it!"

"Got what?" I ask, looking at my redhead friend curiously.

Ginny looks positively bouncing. "The perfect metaphor for you guys! It’s like, you find a present at Christmas in your mum and dad’s closet. You know it’s for you and you know you’re gonna get it soon enough, but it doesn’t stop you from wanting it sooner even though you know you can’t have it yet. "

It does sound good. That’s got to be one of the best I’ve heard so far. The worst was, "Harry’s a jar of dirt and you’re the earthworm." Whoever came up with that needs cursing. Desperately.

"All I’m saying is, it better be Christmas soon," I say resting against the big comfy cushions on the big comfy chair.

Ginny laughs at my statement and relaxes on the sofa. "He is boyfriendly though isn’t he?"

"Definitely," I reply, letting images of Harry fly through my extremely open mind. My mind feels so open, I feel like my brain’s gonna fall out of my ears. "After four years, he’s still not carbon dated."

"Four years?" Ginny asks sitting up a little. "From third year?"

I nod. "From the moment he apologised for getting mad at me. His face then, he looked so afraid that I wouldn’t forgive him."

"Must’ve been cute," she grins.

"Indeed," I say remembering the moment, the moment that would forever be my colliding-with-love-at-1000mph moment.

Then, I felt sad. Sad for some unknown reason. "How did you convince Draco to go out with you, Ginny?"

Ginny shrugs. "Haven’t got a clue. We were just sat there then we were sat there kissing. Kind’ve a big jump into it really, throwing myself in at the deep end of the Malfoy pool."

A second…

"Have you asked Harry out yet?" She asks.

"No," I shake my head. "Not for lack of want or…for lack of trying for that matter. Every time I bring it up, or bring up anything to do with dating he runs a mile. Actually, he makes up some excuse about not being able to talk about it."

"Let me guess," Ginny says pondering for a moment. "If I know Harry, and Ron stood beside him, they’ll both answer in unison ‘It’s a guy thing’."

"Oh, you know them so well!" I reply chuckling. "Every female knows that ‘It’s a guy thing’ translates to: ‘There is no rational thought pattern connected with it, and you have no chance at all of making it logical’."

Ginny giggles. "That’s what they say about men. They’re like mascara.
They usually run at the first sign of emotion. "

We both laugh and fall into fits of giggles, but then the laughing dies down and we’re thrown into serious girl talk land.

"I’m a Princess," Ginny states. "I’ve had sufficient experiences with the princes and now I’m looking for a nice, decent, good-looking frog. Mum’s always saying I should find a nice boy, settle down with him, have a couple of hundred kids, learn to cook yadayada. But, you know my mum… a travel agent for guilt trips."

"She only wants what’s best for you," I say in Mrs Weasley’s defensive. Sure, Mrs Weasley could be pushy, argumentative, pushy, motherly, protective, pushy…

"Go out with Robert Gosling and then tell me that she only wants what’s best for me," she grins. "Now THAT is a Princess Margaret."

I sigh softly. "You know, I think Harry’s afraid of commitment."

"I’ve never been committed to someone to be afraid of it," Harry’s voice says from the portrait.

I jump to my feet but Ginny just stays on the sofa. She waves towards the door. "Hi, Harry."

Talk about coincidence. This is one major cliché.

"Hey, Gin," Harry waves back.

He looks amazing, much more matured than what I’m used to. He looks more comfortable in his own features, his smile still ignites some sort of fluttering in my stomach but he looks older than her did before.

He puts his robes, the ones in his hands, onto the floor by the desk. The green slime oozing off them tells me he’s been in the dungeons.

He looks at me, his eyes delving into mine. He looks like he’s searching for something…now he looks like he’s found the snitch.

"Can we talk somewhere, Hermione?" He asks hopefully. For a fleeting second, I want to decline his request. I want to see him look disappointed. But it lasts for 0.001 seconds before I nod and follow him out of the portrait; Ginny giving me the thumbs up as we leave.

@@@@@@@~~POV CAHNGE~~@@@@@@@

Well, at least she didn’t say no.

I don’t want to walk in front of her, or behind her. I want to walk beside her so I wait outside the portrait for her until we can walk side by side.

She looks relieved to see me actually wanting to talk now, not dodging around her constantly.

We walk until we get to the large suit of armour at the end of the Hallway.

"Where are we actually going Harry?" She asks stopping at the suit of armour.

I hadn’t actually thought about that up until now.

"What about going back to my room?" She offers as confident as she always does. "Or to the Offices?"

Room sounds good but if I say yes to her bedroom, she’ll think I’m being pushy or hoping for something I shouldn’t be, so I choose, "The Offices sound good."

With a smile, we walk side by side again until we reach the Prefect’s offices at the end of the Gryffindor wing. I open the door to the Head Girl office and she steps inside, smiling thanks as we both enter.

As is usual Hermione ritual, she sits down at her desk and flips through the paperwork still present on her desk then remembers that I’m there.

"So," she begins. "What do you want to talk about?"

I sit down on the green sofa that they’ve got in there. I don’t look uncomfortable, I sure hope I don’t look uncomfortable. I shouldn’t be uncomfortable but there’s a cushion poking me in the back.

"About what’s going on between us," I reply and she looks shocked. I don’t think she ever expected me to willing talk about this never mind bring up the conversation myself. "I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately. I’ve had a lot to think about and…"

"It’s okay," she says. "I know you’ve had a lot to think about, Harry. I mean, who has more to think about than you do? You’d loose your head if it wasn’t screwed onto your neck."

I shake my head; she’s really not getting this. "No, it’s not about…Voldemort or anything like that." I sigh, looking a little exasperated. "It’s about…you. And me."

"Us," she states.

"Yeah, ‘us’," that’s a good word for this. ‘Us’.

She sighs this time. "Harry, if you have something to say without me interrupting, just say it."

"But I don’t know how to," I reply, sitting on the edge of the sofa and away from the killer cushion. "I want to get free from this."

"Then talk to me," Hermione says. This statement makes me look at her and she looks worried. Why? Do I really look that pathetic?

So, I jump in at the deep end. "What do feel like when you see me with other girls?"

Her expression changes. "What type of girl? Like Ginny or what?"

"Like Parvati in fourth year," I say bluntly. "Did you feel anything seeing me with her at the Yule Ball?"

@@@@@@@~~POV CHANGE~~@@@@@@@@

At least he’s talking to me now but what do I say to that? He’s just voiced a night I’d rather forget.

"Or when I went out with Cho in fifth?" He asks looking hopeful. "Did you feel anything?"

No time for lying now. "Yes." I answer honestly nodding.

He sighs and looks relieved. "Can you tell me what you feel?"

Okay, this is beginning to annoy me. He wants me to admit it first? Fine! Why didn’t he just come out and say that in the first place? I’m not as scared of it as you are Harry. If I tell you, you’re going to have to deal with it properly. Don’t run away anymore.

"You want me to tell you?" I ask, or rather yell standing up. "How every time I see you with another girl, I want to…I don’t know what I want to do but I know that it isn’t healthy for my mind!

"Harry, this is driving me insane!" I shout at him and he stands up, standing a clear foot above me like he always has done since his puberty gene kicked in. "I can’t stand being near you when you’re trying to run away from me all the bloody time!"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" he asks, not matching my voice in strength but strong enough to know I’ve hit a sore spot with him.

"I want you to talk to me!" I reply. "I want you to tell me that what I’m feeling isn’t stupid, and it isn’t going to fade away as soon as we leave this castle. I want to know that I’m not driving myself insane slowly with… this…wanting or whatever it is."

He moves up to me quickly, in one stride he’s stood in front of me. "Do you want me to say it? If I say it, do you think it’ll make it better?"

"Yes!" I shout back. "It bloody well would!"

"Fine!" He shouts back. "You. Are. Oblivious."

Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.

"I’m oblivious?" I ask, still mad.

He nods. "Oh yes. You are possibly the most oblivious person in the world sometimes!"

Oh, he has some bloody nerve! I am so going to give him what for.

"How can I be oblivious? I’m the most observant one in this bloody room! Don’t try to tell me I’m not missing something, Harry when I know what you’re missing!"

He stops pacing the room and looks at me, his eyes telling a different story than his lips are. He knows what he’s missing and it’s hitting him, it’s finally hit him straight in the face. Ginny was right, he’s got it and he’s going to do something about it. He’s not that stupid.

"What am I missing, Hermione?" He asks me in a near whisper. I’m not even sure I heard him say the words, I just say his lips moving and small sounds escaping them.

I sigh, "I’m sorry Harry. I…"

He shakes his head. "Tell me what I’m missing. Out of everything in this school…what am I oblivious too?"

There’s a long silence, it’s not uncomfortable and it’s not tense. It’s just a patient silence. He looks at me with that look on his face and smiles a little.

"Me," I say, tears threatening to fall. Why do I have to be so emotional? And there’s the story, played out like a crappy romance novel. The guy gets the girl in the end. That’s how it’s supposed to be?

He smiles slightly and traces my bottom lip with thumb. "Can I find you?"

What do I say? Do I say yes and fall into his arms or do I say no and walk out of here, never knowing what could have been?

What would you do?

@@@@@@@@@

Well, what would you do? The second chapter of this two-shot fic will be based on your decision. Should she? Shouldn’t she? Will she? Won’t she? Ron’s just round the corner…I could go and get him if you want…

If you recognise them, some quotes from this are from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Like "God’s gift to the bell curve" meaning moron.