Hold That Thought

HOLD THAT THOUGHT

You won't believe the day I've had.

A gentle buzz of excitement greeted me as I entered the Great Hall for breakfast this morning. A quick survey of the room told me that most students had decided to sleep in today. Exams are over, N.E.W.T.s taken, and there is really nothing that needs to be done. Unless you are the Head Girl, of course, and you have to maintain your reputation as a hard ass. Only one more week, thank the Lord.

I know, I know, I'm as surprised as you are by my antipathy for the position of power I so ardently strove for the entirety of my Hogwarts career. But after being a prefect for two years, and Head Girl for one, the responsibility really starts to become tedious. Just once I would like to walk down the hall without having to reprimand an irrefutably annoying first year.

Would it be too much to be able to sleep late instead of getting up at the crack of dawn for a meeting with McGonagall? Every day! That is overkill if there ever was. Don't even get me started on the late night rounds. I've lost count of how many couples, in compromising positions, I've surprised. After far too many close encounters, I have given serious consideration to developing a self-initiated memory charm. The most frequent and recent of these encounters involves Millicent and Goyle. God, breakfast doesn't sound too good anymore; I think I'm going to be sick.

I sighed and sat down at the almost empty Gryffindor table. I know most people don't like me for one reason or another. Uptight, bossy, know it all, those are all words frequently used to describe me. Of course, there are others, but they aren't for polite company. Oh, sure, I have my circle of friends, and most of the Gryffindors like me well enough. Ginny, my best girl friend, thinks I need to loosen up and have some fun. Ron's been saying that for years. And, Harry just goes with the flow. He shakes his head and smiles or laughs at my more irritating habits. I love him for it.

I have come to realize, though that Ginny and Ron are right. I do need to loosen up and have more fun. As graduation inches closer and closer I realize that an incredible part of my life is ending. I've spent much of the time during my late night rounds thinking about my experiences here and upon reflection, one thing has been missing; fun. Don't misunderstand, I have had fun, but what I'm talking about is Fred & George kind of fun. Pulling pranks, sneaking out, playing games when you should be studying, that sort of thing. Even staying up late at night, talking and gigging about boys. I just can't giggle. I've tried.

Which leads me to my other issue…boys. Lets face it, there isn't a lot to choose from for a seventh year girl. I'm not about to date someone younger than myself. Maturity is an issue with guys my own age, I can't imagine the maturity disparity between myself and a younger guy. So that leaves 7^th years. Everyone in Slytherin is out, for obvious reasons. The guys in Hufflepuff are just a little vacuous for my tastes; there are no Cedric Diggory's in that bunch that is for sure. I know Ernie Macmillan way to well from being Head Girl with him as Head Boy for any romantic interest there. No one in Ravenclaw would give me the time of day since I broke up with Anthony Goldstein last year. There is no telling what he said to them about me. I can't help it if he liked me more than I liked him!

So that leaves Gryffindor boys. Ron is dating Luna, although he wouldn't be an option even if he weren't. Dean is dating Lavender, Seamus is dating a sixth year Ravenclaw and Neville is dating Hannah Abbott. That leaves Harry, who has much more pressing issues on his mind than having a girlfriend. Never mind the fact that he has never expressed one iota of interest in me other than as best friends.

I looked up from buttering my toast to see Lavender and Pavarti walk into the Hall, giggling as usual. They said “Hi” and sat a few seats away from me. I guess I've insulted their “inner eye” one too many times.

“Hi, Hermione,” Lavender said, without much enthusiasm, turning to resume her giggly conversation with Pavarti.

“Good morning,” I replied, forcing myself to be cheerful. How can two 17 year old girls still giggle and ogle at boys like they are 13? I rolled my eyes inwardly and thought, one more week, one more week.

A large, tawny barn owl swooped down and landed before me on the table. Simultaneously, I put five knuts in the leather pouch tied to his leg and took the Daily Prophet from his outstretched claw. After a drink of my orange juice, which I then pushed away, he hooted softly, extended his wings and flew through the air toward the window; slapping Pavarti on the head with his wing as he went. She spilled orange juice down the front of her robes and I struggled not to laugh, quickly picking up the paper and opening it.

“Why do you take that stupid newspaper? You already act like you know everything. What more can you learn?” Pavarti said hatefully.

I bent down the corner of my newspaper and peered at her. “Wow, Parvati! That was catty even by your standards. It has only taken you seven years to tell me what you think of me. I'm impressed.” I flipped the paper back up and tried to ignore her frantic whispering to Lavender.

Give me a break.

From behind the paper I said, “Tell me Parvati, is the reason you dislike me so much because Harry has never shown any interest in you?” I smiled at the silence. I thought that might shut them up. I put the paper down to see her staring at me with what I'm sure she thought was a purely hateful look. But, really it just looked like she had a bad case of gas. “Because, you know, Harry made up his own mind regarding you. I didn't even need to tell him you were shallow and vain. He figured that out all on his own after your one Hogsmeade date.”

Now, I just couldn't help but laugh at the look on her face; which of course, made her even angrier. That only made me laugh harder. Thankfully, Harry and Ron sauntered up to the table at this point and sat down across from me.

“Hey,” Ron said, not completely awake. His hair was shooting up in all directions. He obviously didn't take a shower.

“Good morning, Hermione,” Harry said, spooning eggs on his plate.

“Good morning, Harry,” I said sweetly, glancing at Parvati. Stifling a laugh, I again retreat behind my paper.

“Morning Lavender, Parvati,” Harry said.

No response.

“What's wrong with you?” I hear Harry ask.

“Ask Hermione,” Parvati replied.

Again, I bent down the edge of my paper and peer over at Harry. “Parvati still has a thing for you.” I flipped the paper back up.

A clattering sound of silverware hitting the table and an audible “ERGGG,” greeted this statement.

Good, they are leaving, I thought.

Through what must have been a mouthful of food by the sound of his voice, Ron said, “That was a little mean.”

So as not to see, yet again, Ron's bad table manners, I kept the paper up and replied. “You are always telling me I need to loosen up and have more fun. That was pretty fun.” I flipped the paper around so it is only one sheet wide and place it on the table. “You have to admit, she is an easy target. It isn't as if she likes me, anyway.”

“She is just jealous of you, Hermione,” Ron replied matter-of-factly.

If I had been drinking I would have spit my drink out on him for such a completely ridiculous statement. “No, she thinks I'm a bitch. Why should I disappoint her?”

“Okay, whatever you say, Hermione,” Ron says sarcastically.

He and Harry then, of course, started talking about today's Quidditch game; Gryffindor versus Slytherin, of which the winner claims the Quidditch Cup. Gryffindor won it the previous two years and we were certainly determined to keep it. At this point I usually tune them out, keeping just enough of my ear open for the occasional, “Don't you think so, Hermione?” But, more often than not, they are completely lost in their conversation and forget I exist.

“As long as Draco is the seeker we will win for sure,” Ron said cockily. “You are a much better seeker than he is, Harry.”

I must have made a noise, I'm not really sure. But, I did notice that they had both stopped talking, and eating, and were staring at me. “What?” I said looking from one to the other.

Ron had an expression on his face that could melt steel and Harry looked baffled. “What?” I said impatiently.

“You think Malfoy is a better seeker than Harry?”

“NO! I didn't say that.”

“Then what was that noise you made?” Harry asked.

“I didn't realize I made a noise,” I replied truthfully.

“Well, you did.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to.”

I realize now that this is where I should have kept my mouth shut. But, you see, I have this weakness…I hate it when people think I'm wrong…about anything, even a sport that I don't particularly care about.

Especially when Ron thinks I'm wrong.

I think, though this time I may have learned my lesson…

“Is it that Malfoy is bad, or you just hate him so much you can't see that he is good?”

Ron glared at me with what I'm sure he thought was a very mean look. He apparently has no idea that his mean expressions have no effect on me whatsoever. “Why are you taking up for Malfoy?”

“I'm not taking up for Malfoy. I'm just trying to understand your point of view.”

Ron shook his head, “I thought that going with Krum to the Yule Ball was as low as you could get, but this is the lowest of the low. Thinking Malfoy is better than Harry is the ultimate betrayal.”

“Ron, I never said I thought that Malfoy was better than Harry…”

“She's right. She didn't say that Ron,” Harry interjected.

“But, I do think that Malfoy is a better seeker than you give him credit for.”

“What do you know? You don't even like Quidditch!” Ron exclaimed.

“Just because I don't like it doesn't mean I don't understand it, or that I can't discern who is a good player and who isn't.” Ron was looking at me quizzically so I said, really just to piss him off even more, “What? Did I use a word too big for you? Discern: to perceive with the mind, discern.”

I thought Ron was going to explode, “I know what discern means, Hermione!”

“Just checking.”

I glanced at Harry who was trying, with no success, to nonverbally tell me to stop baiting Ron. The last thing the team needed was Ron to be off of his game. He was a good keeper, even I can admit that. But, “mentally resilient” isn't necessarily a phrase that describes him. So, to make Harry happy, and to quench my appetite for a fight, I decided to be Ron's motivation, rather than his impediment.

I looked around the Great Hall and said absently, “I wonder where Seamus is. I need to place a bet on today's game.”

Ron choked on his juice. “What? You are placing a bet? You never bet!”

“I hear Seamus is giving good odds on Harry catching the Snitch but Slytherin still winning.”

I glanced at Harry who had hung his head in resigned defeat.

“You are betting against Gryffindor?” Ron said in disgust.

“I guess, technically, I betting against you. After all, if Slytherin still wins with Harry catching the Snitch, that means you let in too many goals.”

If real life were a cartoon, Ron's ears would have been steam pipes emitting such a flow of steam that one would think The Hogwarts Express was rolling through his head.

I hate to admit this, but I was having way too much fun.

Ron was so mad that he couldn't formulate a single syllable. He was staring at me with his mouth agape. Clearly I had crossed some line.

He will thank me later, I promise.

“Don't get mad at me! Seamus is the one placing the odds. He is the one that doesn't think you can save enough goals.”

Okay, maybe I had gone a little too far. Now it was time to motivate.

“I tell you what, Ron. I'll make the bet with you instead of Seamus.”

This perked Ron and Harry up just a bit. “What do you mean?” Ron asked.

“I'll make the bet with you. If you win the bet you can make me do something very embarrassing. If I win, I make you do something embarrassing.”

Ron narrowed his eyes. I could almost see the gears in his head working overtime to see if I was tricking him somehow. I wasn't.

“Okay.”

“Great. So, the bet is this. I think Slytherin will win but Harry will catch the Snitch. If that happens I win. If Gryffindor wins and Harry catches the Snitch, you win. Anything else happens like Malfoy catching the Snitch, neither win. Sound fair?”

“Slytherin isn't going to win,” Ron said heatedly.

“You are the only one that can assure that, Ron,” I said sweetly.

“So, what do I have to do if you win?”

“You have to wear a badge for the remainder of our time at school that says “Malfoy is My Hero!”

“No way, Hermione!”

“Would you rather streak starkers through the Great Hall during dinner?”

“No,” Ron said hotly.

“Well, those are your choices.”

“Fine. The badge it is.”

“Great,” I said rising to leave.

“Where do you think you are going? You haven't found out your punishment yet.”

“Oh, right,” I said sitting back down. I tried to look at Ron as if completely unconcerned about what his embarrassing task for me might be. But, to be honest, I was more than a little worried. This would be Ron's chance to finally get back at me for all of the bickering and fighting we had done over the years.

He was looking at me with his brow furrowed, obviously trying to think of something really good. He looked to Harry for help, who was busy eating his eggs. I swear I saw a light bulb appear above his head when his face cleared and broke into a huge smile.

He clapped his hands and rubbed them together in anticipation. “If I win, you have to kiss Harry, immediately after the match, in front of the entire school.”

“WHAT!” Harry and I exclaimed in unison.

“Don't drag me into your fight,” Harry said heatedly.

“I'm not going to kiss Harry!”

“What's wrong with kissing me?” Harry said offended.

I waved my hand in dismissal, “I'm sure you are a great kisser, Harry. But, that is not something I want to do in front of hundreds of people.”

“Which is precisely why it is your embarrassing task,” Ron said in triumph.

I sat there stunned. I couldn't believe that Ron had got the best of me. He couldn't have thought of a more horrifying thing for me to do. It had nothing to do with Harry. After all, I admit I have fantasized in the past about kissing him. But, kissing him in front of the entire school? That isn't a fantasy; that is my worst nightmare.

To my astonishment, I heard myself say, “You're on.”

Ron got up and pumped his fist. “Yes!” He walked out the hall. Harry sat there and stared at me with a strange look on his face.

“What were you doing baiting Ron like that?”

I looked down the table at Ron who had stopped to talk to Colin Creevy. He smiled broadly, slapped Colin on the back, turned to me and waved. I looked back at Harry, “Don't worry about the Quidditch Cup, Harry. You have the most motivated keeper in the world. You can thank me later.”

It had been three hours since breakfast, but it seemed more like three minutes. Never one to look forward to any type of sporting event, I was positively dreading this Quidditch Match. What in the name of Merlin was I thinking? There was no way Ron was going to lose this match. He will probably shut-out Slytherin just to show me up. If he does, I will be sure to point out that I was the motivating factor behind his brilliance. That will piss him off. That thought made me smile.

There is no reason behind why I enjoy making Ron mad, trust me I've wondered about my motives myself. There was a time when I fancied Ron, for about five minutes, that is. Then, we had an argument about something (they all seem to run together) and the thought fled my mind in horror. I just couldn't imagine dating someone that enjoyed arguing with me as much as Ron did.

Then there is Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. I don't know what to think about him. He is my best friend, to be sure, and the only person at Hogwarts that likes me despite all of my faults. There have been moments when I thought he was about to tell me something important, something only he wanted me to hear. Then, someone, usually Ron or Ginny, would show up and the moment would be gone. Sometimes I wonder if he subconsciously planned it like that so he doesn't have to say what he wants to.

Do I love Harry? With all of my heart. I can't imagine my life without him. But, I love Ron too, in a weird sort of way, and can't imagine life without him either. I've never had the stereotypical flip-flop of my stomach when I see Harry. My heart doesn't race. I don't lose all train of thought. He is just Harry, plain and simple.

There is no denying that he is one hot number. (I can't believe I'm saying this about Harry!) No wonder Pavarti is so hot and bothered about him. Most of the girls in school are. And, as I said before, I have fantasized about him myself; quite vividly, in fact. It really can't be helped. For one thing, as I said, he is hot. And I'm sure all of the talk I hear from the other girls (especially Parvati) about him has somehow slipped into my subconscious mind. As a result, when I do fantasize about boys, it us usually Harry I'm thinking about.

I wonder how good Harry really is at Occulmency? If he were as good as Snape, he would definitely know a couple of my racier daydreams. I had one just the other day while watching Ron and Harry play wizard chess in the common room. Let's just say, that in my mind, the queen took the king voluntarily. Goodness, I'm blushing…moving on.

Maybe I do like Harry in some other, less platonic way. Maybe I'm in denial. Maybe I don't want to ruin our friendship. Maybe I'm afraid he won't return my feelings. Maybe I don't see how he would like me when he could have any girl he wanted. Maybe I just don't want to think about it. After all, he is just Harry.

So, there I was, walking to my doom. It was a beautiful day, though. The sky was clear with only a few fluffy clouds, the sun shone brightly, there was a slight breeze that I was sure would be a full-blown wind when I arrived at the stands 50 feet in the air. I should have pulled my hair back.

I walked up the steps and proceeded to the back row. I thought, maybe, if Harry and Ron couldn't find me after the game, the bet would be off. I know it was wishful thinking, but I was desperate! I had never had a fantasy that included kissing Harry, or anyone for that matter, in front of hundreds of people. Not only hundreds of people, but hundreds of people I know! The possibilities for disaster were endless. What if he laughed? What if I have bad breath? (I blew my breath into my hand and checked my pockets for gum.) What if he has bad breath? What if he it completely revolted because I'm a bad kisser? Am I a bad kisser? I have no idea; it isn't as if I have had lots of practice.

I sat there biting my fingernails and the time ticked slowly away until the start of the game. Lavender and Pavarti glared at me as they sat down on the front row. I stuck my tongue out at them when their backs were turned. Childish, I know.

“Hey Hermione! Come sit down here there is plenty of room!” Colin Creevy called up to me.

“No thanks, I can see just fine from here!”

Colin smiled mischievously and shrugged his shoulders. He sat down next to Lavender. I wondered what he was up to? He had been talking to Ron earlier…

Suddenly, I heard Madam Hooch blow her whistle and 15 people zoomed into the air. I do protest a lot about Quidditch and if I never attended another game in my life I would die happy. But, when the game starts and people you know and care about are playing, you just can't help but get into it. Today was no different. I was gasping when Harry went into a steep dive minutes into the game; groaning when Ginny was knocked almost off of her broom by a bludger; booing when Malfoy fouled Harry as they chased the Snitch for the third time; clapping and cheering when Gryffindor scored its goals.

Ron didn't play well at all. He played brilliantly. I have never seen him so focused and intent. If he put half that effort into school he would graduate much higher than he will in a few days. He almost made my prediction of a shut-out come true, until he let in a soft goal two hours into the game. His flub excited me; I was thinking that now Slytherin would take advantage and start to score in droves. That was until I saw Harry streaking directly for the box I was sitting in. It looked as if he was hurtling right at me. I gasped and everyone ducked, sure that there was no possible way he could stop in time. We were right, he didn't stop, but instead turned hard to my right and began flying even faster, chasing after the Snitch. I don't know how he didn't fall off of his broom. The laws of physics say he should have, I'm sure. The next think I know he is waving his hand in the air, grasping the Snitch. The spectators erupted into a deafening cheer. I joined along with them.

We won!

“We won,” that was my first thought. Suddenly, I realized what it meant and my hands immediately became drenched with sweat. As if in slow motion, I looked to my left, toward the Gryffindor goal and saw Ron flying towards my box; a gleeful smirk on his face. He pointed at me and waved me down to the first row of seats, where he was floating in mid-air. I must have had quite an expression on my face, because for a brief moment, Ron's smile flickered and almost died. Then Harry flew up next to him and he seemed to regain his exuberance. As I walked down the steps, I looked from Ron to Harry, hoping that one of them would soon say, “never mind, it's all a joke.”

They didn't.

I stopped in front of Harry and he said, “Let's get this over with.”

For the men out there reading this I'm going to let you in on a secret…don't ever preface a kiss with, “let's get this over with.”

As I leaned down to kiss him my only thought was, “I'll show him `let's get this over with.'”

After that it's all a blur.

Remember earlier when I told you that my stomach doesn't flip flop, my heart doesn't race, and I don't lose all train of thought around Harry? Guess what? All of those things happened simultaneously, the second his lips touched mine. Every cheesy, stereotypical romance novel line came true.

My knees felt weak.

My heart raced.

I didn't have one coherent thought.

The world stood still.

All the noise faded to nothingness.

We were the only two people in the world at that moment.

I don't know who it was, but one of us moaned with pleasure and the next I knew Harry's tongue was in my mouth. Or was mine in his mouth? Who knows? Who cares? I felt him drift lower pulling me further over the railing of the spectator box. Holding on to the railing with one hand, I grabbed his head with my other, forcing the contact to remain, kissing him with more force than I realized I was capable of. I don't know if he released the Snitch or let go of his broom handle, but suddenly his hand was wrapped in my hair and was kissing me like I have never been kissed before. I had one thought repeating in my mind; please don't let this end.

Even with all of that happening, all it took was the click of a camera and the flash of a light bulb to bring back the crowd, noise and my momentarily handicapped senses. I pulled away from Harry and saw my stunned surprise at what had happened reflected in his expression. I was still in a daze, thinking about the kiss, when I heard someone far away say, “hold that thought.”

Harry smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Okay.”

Did I say that?

I watched as Harry flew down to the ground and dismounted his broom amid hugs and congratulatory back slaps from his teammates. Ron landed beside him, laughing and smiling. Ron said something and looked up at me with a wave of his hand. Even from fifty feet away I saw Harry blush. He glanced up me and quickly looked away when he saw that I was staring at him with what I'm sure was an idiotic expression on my face.

I turned to leave and ran directly into Lavender and Parvati, who were apparently too shocked to speak. That was a first.

I smiled, fanning myself with my hand dramatically, “No wonder you have a thing for Harry.”

Late night rounds. Again. Only three more days.

I stood outside the door to the broom closet dreading the scene on the opposite side. I put my ear up to it…listening. I sighed and decided to come back later, hoping they would be almost done, and more importantly, gone when I returned.

I walked the remainder of my rounds slowly, giving Goyle and Millicent plenty of time to finish whatever it was they were doing in there. I promised myself the day would never come when I would view a broom closet as the height of romance.

It didn't take my mind long to settle on a much more appealing subject…Harry. After the game I avoided the Gryffindor Common Room, knowing that the celebration would be in full swing. I was not ready to face my housemates just yet. I needed some time alone to think and to steel myself for the unrelenting mockery I was destined for. So, I retreated to the Library.

For once in my life I couldn't find anything to do. Maybe that isn't entirely accurate. What I found to do wasn't interesting enough to keep my attention. I kept remembering that kiss. I couldn't get it out of my mind. Trying desperately to summon my “Hard Ass Hermione” persona, I walked back to Gryffindor Tower.

I had barely put my foot through the portrait hole when I saw Harry bounding out of a chair by the fire, coming to meet me with a shy smile on his face. I immediately felt my cheeks grow warm and I knew without a doubt that I was blushing.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Where have you been? I've been waiting for you.”

“I was in the library…hiding.”

“Why?”

Someone started a chant of “Har-ry, Har-ry, Har-ry” as soon as they saw us by the portrait hole. Soon the entire room chimed in. Harry shot them a cold look, grabbed my hand and led me back out the portrait hole.

“That's why.”

“Sorry about that,” he said, embarrassed. He continued to hold my hand and looked down at me with those amazing green eyes. “Let's start over, okay?”

“Okay,” I said warily.

“Hey,” he said with a silly smile. “I've been waiting for you.”

I smiled and looked down at our hands that were still intertwined. “Do you think this is a little weird?”

“Awkward maybe, not weird.” I nodded my head and looked back up at him, completely at a loss for what to say.

He cleared his throat and looked down. “Hermione, I need to ask you something. Was that all an act today? Were you putting on a show so Ron wouldn't think you were embarrassed?”

I reached my other hand up and raised his chin so that I was looking in his eyes again. “Did it feel like an act to you?”

He let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “No.”

I returned his smile. “Now I have a question for you.”

“What?”

“Why did you say `let's get this over with'?”

Harry, looking very uncomfortable, said, “I could tell you didn't want to do it by the look on your face. I didn't really want to kiss you for the first time in front of the entire school, either. I just wanted to get it over with quickly so you wouldn't be too embarrassed.”

“I guess that plan failed miserably, didn't it?” I said giggling. (I know! Can you believe I giggled?)

Harry pulled me closer. “I'm sorry you were embarrassed.”

“I was talking about the length of the kiss. I enjoyed it too much to be embarrassed. But, don't tell Ron that. As far as he knows it was the worst experience of my life.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Harry whispered.

“How long was the kiss anyway?” I asked softly, increasingly distracted by his lips.

“Not long enough.”

He was leaning down to kiss me when we heard the fat lady say, “Get a room you two!”

Needless to say, that broke the mood. Promising to find him as soon as I finished, I left to begin my evening rounds.

That was two hours ago and I was ready to finish what the Fat Lady so rudely interrupted. With only Millicent and Goyle left to reprimand, I returned to their broom closet and yanked open the door. Much to my relief it was empty. I smiled, anticipating seeing Harry again, and started to close the door.

Suddenly, I was jerked into the closet by an invisible force and the door was slammed shut. Completely taken off guard, I reached for my wand. At the same moment, twenty to thirty candles flickered to light revealing Harry, standing in front of me, holding his invisibility cloak. I suddenly understood the appeal of the broom closet.

“Hey,” he said softly, inching closer to me.

Involuntarily, my breath caught in my throat when he put his arms around me.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I got tired of holding that thought,” he whispered. He dug his fingers into my hair and pulled my head to his, covering his mouth with my own.

I bet you want to know what happened next, don't you?

I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there are just some memories that are better kept to oneself.