Author's Note: Thanks guys for the reviews. I am glad you are enjoying this. I hope you enjoy this and on a personal note (GO BRAVES!). You baseball fans out there will know what I'm talking about!
Chapter Three
In Your Eyes
"Love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive"
(Peter Gabriel/In Your Eyes)
Hermione was racing down the halls, careful not to run, as she didn't want a prefect to come upon her and reprimand her for running through the halls. She still couldn't believe that she wasn't a prefect this year. Dumbledore had explained to her in their conversation the first night back that her prefect position had been given to Lavender Brown. She was told that with her extra course load, she'd probably be better off concentrating on her studies and letting Lavender continue in the prefect position. She was disappointed, up until the point when Dumbledore insinuated that she would be in the running for Head Girl next year.
It still took some getting used to. She had to stop herself from reprimanding first years that were breaking rules or going where they weren't supposed to. Yet, it was also a relief in that she could spend her free time, what little she had, with Harry.
She'd just finished her Arithmancy lesson and was hurrying to make it to Defense Against the Dark Arts. She was almost at the classroom when someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her into one of the dark corridors.
She gasped, but the person who grabbed her had cupped their hand over her mouth. She panicked as she felt herself being dragged into the darkened corridor. The person suddenly let go of her and she turned around to see Harry, grinning at her like a Cheshire cat.
"Harry James Potter," she said her eyes ablaze. "You scared me half to death!"
"I'm sorry," he said. "Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"
She felt her anger fall away as she looked into those green eyes.
"I guess I could be persuaded," she said coyly.
"Oh," he said, stepping closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She dropped her backpack and wrapped her own arms around his waist. "Well, would this do anything to put me back in your good graces?"
He leaned in and softly kissed her. She couldn't resist smiling when he pulled away.
"It's a start," she said. "But you could definitely do better."
"Oh, I could do better, huh?" he asked her, laughing. "Well, let's see, then."
He leaned in again and kissed her lips and then pushed her hair back to plant some kisses on her neck. She forgot that she was now late for class. She forgot where she was. All she could think about was how good it felt to have him do that. They stood there, wrapped in each others arms, kissing and holding each other.
They forgot where they were, up until the point when they heard someone clearing their throat loudly from behind them. They quickly broke apart and saw Snape, looking as menacing and scornful as ever.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," he began, "but aren't the two of you supposed to be in class right about now?"
"Y-yes, sir," Hermione said, her face flushed with embarrassment.
"Well, let's see that you get there," he said. "Come on."
To Harry and Hermione's horror, Snape walked a couple of feet and then opened the door to the DADA classroom. Professor Lupin was in mid-lecture when the three of them walked in. Hermione and Harry stood behind Snape. Even with his back to them, Harry could feel Snape grinning. It was almost as if he'd won the lottery. Harry couldn't help thinking that he hadn't seen Snape this happy, since--, well to tell the truth, he'd never really seen Snape happy. Until now, that was. Harry doubted it was because he was happy that Harry and Hermione had fallen in love.
"Professor Snape," Lupin said calmly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"I found two of your students here out in the halls," Snape began. He stood back so Lupin, as well as the rest of the class, could see them. Both Harry and Hermione's cheeks were a brilliant shade of red. Both of them made for their seats, but Snape put a hand on each of their shoulders, holding them back.
"It seems that Mr. Potter was inspecting Miss Granger's tonsils and lost all track of time," Snape said disdainfully. "I wanted to make sure that they made it into your class."
Harry and Hermione exchanged embarrassed looks. They could both feel the eyes of their classmates focused solely on them.
'Well, you've seen to that," Lupin said, smiling reassuringly at Harry and Hermione. "Will the two of you take your seats, now?"
Harry and Hermione gratefully walked past Snape and sat down at their desks. Lupin turned to continue his lesson, but turned back to face Snape when he saw that Snape still stood in the classroom.
"Did you have something else you wanted to add, Severus?" Lupin asked him.
"Yes," Snape said callously. "As a matter-of-fact, there is. I think that for Potter and Granger's blatant public display of affection, they should each be deducted 10 points. Furthermore, I think we should take another 10 points apiece for their tardiness."
Lupin fought the urge to roll his eyes.
"Duly noted," Lupin said. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a class to teach."
Snape didn't say anything else; he simply nodded and walked out of the classroom, but not before giving Harry and Hermione one last look of disdain.
Harry looked over at Hermione, who was still blushing.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She just nodded and hastily pulled out her book, quill, and parchment. They both tried to concentrate and focus on Lupin's lecture.
Two rows back they couldn't see that Ron wore a look that matched, and could have even bettered, Snape's look of contempt.
When class finally ended, everyone hurried to pack up their belongings and head to the Great Hall for lunch. Before Harry could even get out of his seat, Lupin came over to him.
"Harry," he said. "Might I have a word?"
"Uh, sure," Harry said. He quickly told Hermione he'd meet her in the Great Hall and then followed Lupin up the stone staircase to his office. Harry couldn't help wondering what this would be about. If it had been about him snogging Hermione in the hall, wouldn't he have called them both in for a talk?
He didn't have too long to ponder what this conversation would be about. Within moments, he was seated across from Professor Lupin in his comfortable office. Lupin sat at his desk, looking at a complete and utter loss for words.
Harry decided to start the conversation. The best defense was a good offense, Harry thought. Maybe if I head him off at the pass, it will help, he thought to himself.
"Does this have anything to do with Hermione and me being late?"
Lupin gave a nervous laugh. "Yes, it does, in a way."
"Harry, I know that in the six years that you and Hermione have been friends, you've become quite close. I know that when her parents took her out of school, you took this really hard, but on the bright side, you were forced to confront your feelings for her and you had to reevaluate your relationship. I know that you've come to care about her very much and vice versa."
Harry nodded, unsure of where this was going.
Lupin seemed somewhat uncomfortable, and seemed to be trying to think out everything he said, before he said it.
"I've, um, seen the way you look at each other," he continued. "Don't get me wrong, I think that the two of you are perfect for each other, I always have. She's a great girl and I can see that she cares a great deal about you."
"What exactly are you trying to say, Professor?" Harry asked.
"Well, um," Lupin said, "What I'm trying to say, Harry, is that I know you don't really have anyone that you feel you can talk about this with. You never really knew your dad. The closest person you had to family was Sirius and he's-well,-" Lupin's voice trailed off.
"Well, I hope you know that if you need to talk about anything," he continued, "Well, I hope you know that I will always be here for you. I know I'm not your father or Sirius, but I do care about you. Sirius made me promise that if anything happened to him that I'd look after you for him."
Harry nodded. Talking about Sirius was still a touchy, painful subject for him.
"I appreciate that, Professor," Harry said sincerely.
"What I'm trying to say, Harry, is that you are only 16 years old. You have a lifetime ahead of you."
"Do I?" Harry asked. "You don't know that. I certainly don't know that. I'm sure my parents and Sirius and Cedric all felt that they had all the time in the world, too, but they didn't, did they?"
Lupin looked as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't.
"If anything good has come out of all of this," Harry continued, "it's that I know now that you shouldn't take anything or anyone for granted. You don't know if they will always be there. I don't want to waste time, anymore. We're not guaranteed that---time. I've already wasted so much, pretending that I didn't care for Hermione in a different way."
"I guess what I'm trying to say, Professor," he said, "is that I'm not going to rush Hermione into anything that she or I aren't ready for. I honestly don't know what the future holds or what might happen, but I do know one thing for sure. There has always been one constant in my life. It's been her. She's always been there for me, no questions asked. I trust in her. I believe in her just as she believes in me. I know I'm only 16, but that doesn't matter. I love her, Professor. She loves me. Now, I may be too young to know a lot of things, but I do know that I love her. Nothing is ever going to change that."
Lupin looked at Harry, impressed.
"You have matured so much in such a short time," Lupin said. "You've kind of had to. I know this wasn't the easiest thing to talk about, Harry. I just want you to be careful, that's all. Both of you need to be careful."
"We will," Harry said solemnly. "I'd never do anything to hurt her."
Meanwhile, at the house just outside of London, Wormtail carried the untouched tray of food back into the kitchen. Voldemort looked at him as he walked in, but didn't say anything.
"He still isn't eating," Wormtail said, a touch of worry in his voice. "He hasn't eaten anything in days. He just sleeps and coughs most of the day."
Voldemort shook his head, annoyed at what he deemed trivial details.
"I don't care how he spends his day, Wormtail," he said. "All I care about is that he stays alive until we need him."
"But, sir," Wormtail began.
"Don't tell me you've grown a conscience?" Voldemort asked, interjecting.
"N---no, it's not that. I'm just worried. He doesn't look good," Wormtail said.
"You know, I'd be more than happy to throw your sorry arse down into the cell with him if that's what you want. All you need to do, Wormtail, is give me one reason. I'll do it. You know I will. I don't believe in empty threats, you know."
"No, sir," Wormtail said. "I don't want that. I was only telling you how he was-"
"And I was telling you that I didn't care how he was doing," he said. "The only thing you need to tell me each morning is 'dead' or 'alive'. Anything else is not of my concern. This isn't an inn. We're not boarding him. We are simply holding him until he can be of some use to us."
Voldemort turned to walk out of the room.
"Keep him alive, Wormtail," Voldemort said. "Keep him alive until he's needed."
****************************
Very early that next morning, Hermione dressed quickly and grabbed her bag to head down to the common room to get in some quick studying before her early morning session with McGonagall.
When she came downstairs, she saw someone she hadn't expected to see. It was Ron, asleep at one of the tables, his head buried in a book. She smiled. He looked as if he'd been there all night. She decided it probably would be best to leave him alone. So, she tiptoed over to the couch in front of the fireplace and began to set out to finish her reading assignment.
She read for a few minutes, but was distracted by the sound of Ron snoring. She couldn't very well study with him carrying on like that, could she? So, she hesitantly arose from the couch and walked over to Ron. She gingerly shook him and stood back waiting for him to wake up.
He awoke with a start, and looked at her as if he didn't understand why she was there or where they were, for that matter.
"Ron," she whispered. "You were snoring."
"Hmmm," he said, rubbing his eyes.
"Snoring," she said.
"Oh," he said, smiling at her. "Sorry about that. What time is it, anyway?"
"It's a little after six," she said.
"In the morning?" he asked groggily.
"Yeah," she said. "How long have you been down here?"
"A couple of hours," he said. "I have some catching up to do."
"Yeah," she said. "I know what you mean. I've had double lessons for nearly two weeks. Trying to catch up is tough, isn't it?"
"Well, I imagine it's a little easier for you," he said. "You could get much of this stuff in your sleep. It's a little harder for the rest of us."
She blushed. "Well, it's hard for me, too."
He stretched in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Well, I'm going to go," she said, turning to walk back to the couch.
"You don't have to go, Hermione," he said. "I can go."
"You don't have to go, either, Ron," she said, with a half-hearted laugh. "This is stupid. This is a big common room. We're the only ones in here. Surely, we can both study without bothering each other."
He nodded.
She sat back down on the couch and opened her book again. From the desk, Ron tried to focus on his own reading. They were both uncomfortable.
"How are you, Ron?"
"Do you really care?" his tone was colder. It was almost as if he'd remembered suddenly that he was
supposed to be upset with her.
"What kind of question is that?" she asked. "Of course, I care. You're my friend, Ron."
He rolled his eyes. "I was your friend."
"We can still be friends. Harry and I both miss you."
"Harry and I both miss you," he said, mockingly. "How sweet."
She slammed her book shut and got to her feet. She walked over to him, her cheeks red with anger.
"Why are you being like this?" she asked him. "I've tried to understand this, but what I can't fathom is why you have to be so cold. This isn't you, Ron."
"How would you know?" he asked her, turning to face her. "You haven't been around. Even if you had been, you wouldn't have even looked in my direction. I find it so hard to believe that you would settle to be one of his groupies. Honestly, Hermione, kissing in the halls?"
"One of his groupies?" she repeated angrily. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Come off of it, Hermione," he said. "If he wasn't 'The Boy Who Lived' do you really think
you'd have given him the time of day?"
"You really think that of me?" she said in disbelief. "You really think that I'm the type of person
who would do something like that? Well, if that's the way you think, you don't know me at all."
"Right," he said. "I think I know you quite well. I think you're just upset because I finally called
you on it. You're just like all those other girls who stare at him and follow him around."
"Okay, you want the truth, Ron? You really want to hear the truth?" she said, barely containing her emotions.
"I love him."
Ron looked down at the floor.
"I'll admit that I love him because of who he is," she said, nodding her head. "And do you know who he is Ron? He's Harry. He's my best friend. He's the guy who risked everything to make sure that I was okay. He could have been expelled-"
"Like they'd really expel him from school, Hermione," Ron interjected. "Come on. They
wouldn't expel the great Harry Potter from Hogwarts! It would be an outrage. You know, maybe if I'd been
responsible for my parents' deaths, not to mention my own godfather's, you'd have given me a chance,
too."
Before she'd even realized what she was doing, she slapped him hard on the face with all the strength she could
muster.
It was hard to tell who was more shocked by her actions---Hermione or Ron. They both stood there, staring at each
other. Ron, rubbing his cheek, looked at her in disbelief.
"I never, ever want to speak to you again," she said stoically. She looked at him once more before turning on
her heels and running back up the stairs.
Ron could only watch as she ran up the stairs. He couldn't believe what he'd just said. He hadn't meant to say it. He didn't even think he meant it. He was just hurt. He wanted them to hurt as bad as he did. He thought he'd feel better if he'd made them feel bad, but it was just the opposite. He felt worse. No, that was wrong, he felt absolutely terrible.
She had slapped him. Truth be told, he reckoned he deserved much worse.
"What have I done?" he asked, looking up the stairs. "What have I done?"