A/N: Thanks so much to those who reviewed! ^_^
Just a little pet peeve, though. Most of you seemed pretty baffled by the last chapter, which I can understand… the only problem is that I am writing slightly more of a mystery story than anything else (besides romance, of course), and not all things are going to make sense. I promise, however, that it all fits into the storyline (I'm not just writing random words, people!). Please, please don't review and complain that it doesn't make sense to you, because at the end, it will. And those reviews don't help me in any way - the basic point of reviewing is to help me better explain the story. Unless you want to tell me what part doesn't make sense - then I'll try to explain. Thanks.
On the other hand, I know that there haven't been H/Hr moments, but you have to remember, I'm trying to fit in a mystery too. But it all revolves around the idea of love and so forth. Everything will be explained, I PROMISE.
This is a very H/Hr chapter, okey-dokey? (*giggles insanely*)
Also, the Malfoy thing is supposed to be OOC, like you guys said… but maybe, just maybe, is he acting from outside influences? That's all I have to say!
Thanks to everyone nonetheless! Much love to all!
-Lauren
* * *
Sleep was not comforting. Harry tossed and turned with restless fits of dreams and nightmares, flailing his arms and legs, wrapping himself unknowingly in the freshly ironed sheets. His bed was old, and it creaked whenever he moved. The moans and groans often weaved themselves into his dreams, as did Neville's congested snores, which had the uncanny ability of stopping whenever Harry awoke.
The creaks of the four-poster seemed louder than normal, and even in his dreamlike state, Harry knew this one fact.
Out of the blue, he felt someone's hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake. He groaned and opened his eyes.
Hermione was positioned over him, peering down anxiously at him. Her face was blurry, and her bushy hair was sticking out wildly, as though charged with static energy. Harry's hands groped for his glasses, and wearily he pulled them on. Clearer now, Hermione looked tired and drawn-out, and there were heavy bags under her bleary eyes.
"Come on," she whispered urgently, shaking him again.
"What?" Harry wanted to roll over onto his stomach and bury his face into his pillow.
"We have to go," Hermione whispered again. "Hurry!"
Harry's mind felt foggy. "Why?"
"You'll see," Hermione said impatiently, "Oh, come on!"
Her voice seemed to melt away into nothingness, and he watched her stupidly… Her lips were moving, yet there was no sound at all… not a whisper…
Hermione did not seem to notice this sudden decrease of volume, however, and continued to talk, though her dramatic motions and furrowed brow illustrated that she was becoming increasingly annoyed with Harry's blank, staring face.
Suddenly, a familiar voice rang piercingly throughout his head. "Why are you denying what you know, Harry Potter?"
"Ah!" he yelped in surprise, clamping his hands over his ringing ears. Hermione stared at him in mild confusion.
"Do you not think we keep track of you, my dear friend?" the voice asked in an amused way, as though savoring the aftermath of its words, "I have seen you have yet to make progress…"
"Oh, you know of what I am speaking," it said with a merry little laugh. Harry felt ominous uncertainty bubbling up inside him. Underlying the bafflement was a smidge of anger, and involuntarily, Harry let out a subtle sound much like a growl.
"So many questions," the voice announced, delighted, "yet I cannot reveal any to you… I must not be troubled with other… circumstances."
"Nevertheless…" it continued thoughtfully.
There was a rushing noise and an awful ringing, and Harry was lying on his bed, breathing heavily, staring up at Hermione's white, perplexed face. There was no trace of the voice or its owner.
"Did you - did you hear that?"
Hermione peered at him with wide eyes, then slowly shook her head.
"I'm going mad," Harry told her resolutely, "Stark raving mad."
She showed no amusement, and instead asked quietly, "What did you hear?"
Harry knew what he heard. He knew.
"I don't know," he told her.
Liar.
"It was them, wasn't it?" Hermione said vaguely, "They spoke to me too."
"What about?" asked Harry. His words felt slurred in his mouth.
She paused for a moment, and said distractedly, "Denial…"
Her hand gave an involuntary twitch, brushing against his shoulder, and he realized suddenly how close she was to him. His heart rate increased as he watched her peer down at him through slightly dazed eyes, her lips upturned in a tender smile. He was sure he was smiling too, yet he did not know why…
"Harry…" Hermione whispered, lowering her face so that her hair cascaded down his shoulders. Their noses were centimeters apart; he could feel her warm breath on his face. He felt the heat radiate from her cheeks. He heard her heart beating wildly against her ribcage.
He was dizzy, disoriented, when Hermione touched her lips to his, positioning her hand on a side of his face, the other pressed to the mattress, holding her over him. The kiss was saccharine and gentle, yet filled with a raw longing that overcame their senses, burning them inside and out.
In the midst of it all, someone moaned, bringing them closer together.
"Harry," Hermione choked hoarsely, pulling back from him grudgingly, "what are we doing?"
He did not answer and merely drew her back to him, kissing the corner of her parted lips, running his hand through her beautiful downy hair. His mind was a blank, withstanding only one motive - to kiss this wonderful woman smiling down upon him. Everything else was just background turmoil, whispering anxiously, but not loud enough to understand.
He heard his name called again. Earnestly.
He tried to look through the thick fog at the world below him… everything was cloudy… His mind was reeling, and the peculiar sensation of flying overcame him…
From somewhere in the room, someone coughed in their sleep.
It was enough. Harry and Hermione broke apart, startled. Hermione jumped off of Harry and straightened her disheveled hair. Harry could feel himself turning a terrific shade of red. He looked up, imaging to see a similar sight with Hermione; however, she looked quite composed, and was even looking somewhat triumphant.
"It's so simple," she said, shaking her head. "So simple, so brilliant."
Harry snapped his head up to look at her. "What?"
She saw him looking at her and said harshly, "Don't look at me!"
Utterly confused, Harry turned his head.
"Don't you see?" asked Hermione with the air of a person knowing more than they're willing to share, "Those fairies have given us a love potion!" She shook her head in disbelief. "But it's interesting. They never made us drink anything… I wonder…"
Harry suddenly had the very disturbing image of a fairy hidden behind a shower curtain, giggling evilly.
"They're not spying on us, right?" asked Harry in a terrified sort of voice, still breathing rather heavily, "Because that's wrong in so many ways."
Hermione managed a short coughing laugh. "I don't think they're spying. Dumbledore would never allow it."
"Yeah," mused Harry, "but Dumbledore did start this madness." He turned to look at her, but stopped himself halfway.
Hermione sighed.
"This is going to be a problem. Why couldn't we have just gone to Professor McGonagall? Now we have to spend our whole day cooped up somewhere - without looking at each other!"
"McGonagall's worse," Harry said stubbornly.
Hermione began pacing the room, her hands behind her head, staring at the floor. "What could it mean?" she asked herself distantly. "Oh, damn this whole mess."
Harry grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "You swore."
Hermione, forgetting herself, whirled around and looked at Harry exasperatedly. "This isn't the time, Harry."
Her eyes began to glaze over and his heart began to beat faster… Hermione realized this quickly and spun around again. "This is ridiculous!"
She sighed heavily, as though settling a conclusion, and muttered something to herself.
"Listen, Harry, we're not going to accomplish anything walking around on eggshells. We should tell Ron."
For some reason, Harry was reluctant to do so. But why should he? Maybe Ron would go ballistic on them; maybe he wouldn't believe them; maybe he would just laugh and take it all as a joke.
But there was something in the way Hermione was pleading with her body language that collapsed Harry's will to argue his points. "Fine," said Harry, "We'll tell Ron."
"Fine," repeated Hermione. She was silent for a moment, and then said, "Maybe we should go to Hagrid, too. Just in case."
"Yeah."
There was nervous tension in the air; they could feel it. It was as though they both had something they wanted to discuss, yet they couldn't bring themselves to do it. After a moment of silence, Hermione cleared her throat and said, "Well, I'll go back to bed, then…"
Something clicked in Harry's memory.
"What did you want me to see this morning?" he asked curiously, "You woke me up."
Hermione flushed slightly. "I was going to show you that I found out what was wrong with us, but we rather demonstrated it instead…"
"Demonstrated what?" asked a sleepy voice from somewhere above Harry's four-poster. Ron appeared, yawning loudly, his hair sticking up at odd angles. He spotted Hermione. "Oy, Hermione, what're you doing here?"
"Never mind," Hermione said quickly, "I'll see you at breakfast, Harry."
She left without another word, her bushy hair trailing behind her. Ron looked after her in amazement, his eyes wide and mouth open.
"Does she have something against me?" Ron asked, incredulous, "'I'll see you at breakfast, Harry'. What's that all about?"
"It's fine, Ron," said Harry, lying back down on his bed, hands behind his head.
"Fine?" Ron said, "You can say it's fine! She's on speaking terms with you, mate!"
Harry sighed. "She has other things on her mind."
Ron crossed his arms, disgruntled.
* * *
"So I'm thinking," Ron said between mouthfuls of omelet, "that I should go for a record."
"Hm," said Hermione distantly, nose buried in the pages of her book. The end of her finger was slowly twirling a lock of brown hair.
"Sexist man alive, maybe? Or the buffest? What about Ron Weasley: woman charmer of the twenty-first century?" A piece of cheese and mushroom dribbled down his chin.
Hermione turned a page of her book and chomped absently on a nearby apple slice. "How about this, Ron?" she said. "Ron Weasley: food-gusher and the most tactless man in the history of wizardkind."
Ron grinned. "You're speaking to me."
She looked up. "Of course I am, why wouldn't I?"
"Last night -,"
"It was nothing." She reached for a napkin. "Here, Ron, take this. Use it wisely." She reached for two identical glass cylinders. "Salt or pepper, Harry?"
Without looking at her, Harry nodded. "Thanks, I'll have pepper."
Silence.
"I want to know," Ron said suddenly.
Hermione nodded her head in acknowledgement and lowered eyes to her book. She closed it resolutely.
"What's going on?"
She sighed. "Harry, we should tell him now."
He looked at Ron's face, mixed with so many emotions it was hard to make out one from another, and secretly wished he could die on the spot. "Yeah, we should."
Hermione started, "Ron, you have to promise to listen what we have to say… okay?"
"I'm listening." He crossed his arms over the table and turned to face them, his face set into a kind of grimace.
"Well…" Hermione started, "It's rather complicated -"
"You're not dating, are you?" Ron burst suddenly, casting a feral eye on the two of them, as if that was what he had been fearing covertly for the past few days. Hermione blinked, taken aback, then blushed.
"No… but Ron…"
"Have you?"
"I said no, Ron!" Hermione cried, frustrated, "I knew you'd take it this way!"
"So you are dating!" Ron said loudly.
Hermione blushed a brilliant shade of red, sinking low in her seat at the table. Heads turned their way interestedly. And Harry, for once in his life, utterly resented Ron's immature behavior.
Quietly, he said, "Ron, shut up."
But Hermione had had enough.
"I can't do this," Hermione said stiffly, gathering up her belongings and tucking them under her arm, "I can't do this, not when he's acting so childish. He's already crossed the boundaries, but I'm not going to drown with him."
She turned to him angrily. "If you want to know what's going on between Harry and me, you'd better grow up, Ron. You've gone too far this time. Everything I either do is wrong or not up to your standards. Well, Ron, if I had half a brain, I'd date Harry in an instant!"
As this sunk in, Ron's face discolored.
"Why don't you then?" Ron sputtered.
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, closed it, and shook her head, casting some stray hairs across her face. "You know, Ron, I've done a lot for you. I've had a lot of respect for you. Now I'm wondering if you were worth all of that."
She shouldered her pack.
"Do you want to know what's wrong?" she asked suddenly, facing Ron with contempt. "Do you want to know why Harry and I had to pluck up the courage to talk to you?" Her eyes were shining brightly, and her hands were trembling uncontrollably.
She turned to Harry, staring determinedly into his green-tinged gaze.
He felt it coming before he could react. The sensation, the flying, the wind blowing high over the trees… It was all of what he loved most. Everyone in the Great Hall was suddenly gone, transformed into shadowy wisps of mingled black and gray… Hermione alone stood out before him, smiling as he too was smiling, basking in his gaze that slowly drew her closer…
He knew what he had to do. He reached out and pulled her close, and their lips met. Hungry and passionate, as before.
It was beautiful.
Though the silence… that, in itself, was overwhelming.
* * *
Two kisses in a chapter! TWO! Be happy, my friends! LOL.
Feedback is wholesomely welcomed! ^_^
Poor Ron. Hee hee. >:)
-Lauren