A/N: Hey everyone, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews (lol, fledge, yeah, I noticed that right after I updated, and I was going to change it, but… *shrugs* … too lazy, I guess. *grins*). I really appreciate your support especially, because I'm going through a really hard time… you know, about ages and such. Seeing that I'm younger than most of the writers here, and everything - and I feel like some of my friends are being really weird around me and my work (not you, Jen! *hugs* Love you! Had a good time in California?). Anyway, I just want to say that your reviews are really helping me, and you guys are the best, because you don't judge me because of my age.
Thank you so much.
Enjoy, ya'll!
-Lauren
btw, I promised myself that this chapter would be at least 2,500 words long. So there you go. For some reason, I have difficulty just moving on, lingering on one damn passage, editing and rereading it over and over and over and over... *g* I am so jealous of people who can write long, 5,000 word chapters. *sigh*
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He could feel her animosity, her shuddering anger, against his mouth. He could feel it in the way she gripped his hair so tightly, almost so that her nails dug into his scalp, and pressed up against him eagerly. She was trembling so much it was as if she was cold, but her breath was hot, and her heart was beating wildly against his chest, pumping blood to her sweaty palms. There was something different about this reunion of lips, however; it didn't feel wrong or unusual or strange; they were destined for each other, it felt. It had been determined.
Determined. Destiny. He had heard those words before.
You make your own destiny, a laughing voice whispered in the back of his mind, Remember that.
He knew that their eyes were upon them. Every single pair in the Great Hall.
They should have pulled away minutes ago; he knew they should have. The uncanny feelings and sensations were gone, the reeling flight of his mind had ceased, and in its place was the buzz of whispers and babble in the background turmoil. But beyond that, deeper, past the physical side of it all, he was filled with an undeniable pang of realization.
He marveled that he could taste what she was feeling. How her taste had changed from bitter anger and annoyance, to the sweet saccharine flavor of content…
It would have gone on forever.
But humans have lungs.
Agonizingly, painstakingly, they pulled apart, breathless and dazed. The first thing Harry saw was Ron's clammy face, astonishingly the dull color of pasty milk, staring blankly at the pair of them, as though he had never seen them before. His eyes bloodshot, his hair reddened to its complete potential, he looked as though he had been force-fed one of Neville's wrongly brewed potions.
The teachers were staring. The students were staring. Even Nearly-Headless Nick and the Fat Friar had stopped their careless chatter to blink, stupefied, in their direction.
Ron looked too appalled to speak.
"Ron… listen -" Harry began.
He turned around, shaking unsteadily, and walked past the tables, past the wide-eyed students, and exited out of the Great Hall without another word, drawing his robes around himself violently.
Harry did not dare look in Hermione's direction.
* * *
It began as soon as they left the Great Hall together, stomachs still growling, their appetite yet to be satisfied. The noise, the consistent hiss of gossiping whispers, the clamor of forks against plates - everything started up again as quickly as it had stopped. Talk returned. Laughter rang.
Hermione seemed to be in shock; she would neither look at Harry nor talk to him about what had happened. Her nervous silence transferred to him, and he began fretting himself, flushing red and clearing his throat incessantly. He didn't want both of his friends to cease talking to him, for it was clear Ron had got himself pretty riled up, and wouldn't initiate a conversation with any amount of persuasion. Harry remembered clearly the catastrophe during fourth year. Yet Ron continued to make sudden assumptions, as if he really knew what was going on.
Harry glared at the wall as he passed. Who was Ron to assume anything, when Harry was the one under a spell? A love potion, for that matter, that even Hermione didn't know how to counteract. Who was Ron to accuse him of doing anything other than friendly activities with Hermione, when he knew perfectly well that they weren't?
Harry didn't blame Hermione. In fact, he felt she was the least from blame. She had warned him about the fairies, the powerful love spells they possessed, their meddlesome behavior… He knew everything; from the time he pulled her through the cavern entrance to a few moments earlier, when the potion had taken effect. Even Ron - daft, immature Ron - knew what could have happened within the cave. Why he did not choose to accept this explanation, Harry did not know.
They spent the day in the library together in a handily secluded place behind a row of bookshelves -casually stuffed with muggle books and writings - where no one was bound to look. To Hermione's pleasure, Harry had suggested it, and they had read over homework there. She had corrected all of his work, and Harry was quite satisfied to see she did not have to do much, and even let him read over her DADA work. Neither Ron nor Harry had ever managed to pull off the feat of checking Hermione's homework, and while Harry felt it took all of her dignity to ask such a question, he was quite flattered.
Secretly Harry was wishing they would come across a book on Moerae fairies, but Hermione said it was pointless, because the only people who ever wrote about them were muggle fairy tale writers, not real scientists with real facts and details.
"It's like this, Harry," she said exasperatedly, "Moerae fairies have never been proven to exist by anyone. Those who write stories are writing off of simple rumors… I know they exist, Harry," she said, when he opened his mouth angrily (how she managed to know this when she wasn't looking at him, he didn't have the slightest idea), "but no one else does. Look at this."
She plucked a small muggle book from the shelf and handed it to him.
"'Sleeping Beauty'?" asked Harry skeptically.
Hermione nodded. "It's all there. Look." She leaned across him, and flipped through the pages. "We can assume that the fairies in this story are Moerae, or at least closely related. Though we know that fairies can't directly affect the future of a person, they are able to soften fate. See?" Her hair fell across Harry's leg in soft ringlets; he wondered why she ever complained about it being bushy… "In this story, the princess is determined to die by her sixteenth birthday; but the Moerae fairies twisted this around so that she was only to fall into a deep slumber, and would only be awakened by the kiss of her true love… Harry, are you listening?"
He shook himself. "Yeah, yeah."
Her nose was in the book again. "It's interesting. This story was written ages ago, during the fifteenth century or so. Even then some people knew what they were going on about."
"So you're saying…"
Hermione responded quickly, "Yes, this fairy tale actually does have some basis in fact."
"Odd," Harry muttered, "I wonder what caused the guy to write something like that."
"Personal experience?" Hermione provided knowledgably, shifting about her schoolwork and sitting straight up in her seat, "I'm not sure. There's a possibility that at times of dire need, fairies will appear to help people… Though I don't see any other written evidence of this happening." This was said firmly, as though that was all the evidence they needed.
"Couldn't we ask anyone about it?" Harry asked. Hermione didn't answer, but seemed to dismiss the matter. They read and corrected work for another few uncomfortable minutes in silence. Finally, Harry put his book down loudly, and said, "I can't do this anymore."
Hermione dropped her books as well. "I know. We should talk to Hagrid."
So it was then, moments later, that they were promenading side-by-side down to Hagrid's hut on the opposite side of the school grounds. Like yesterday, the weather was stunning. The sky was a still icy blue, reflecting the lake's glossy water, and the sun-kissed lawn toppled pleasurably beneath their feet. Everywhere, basking in the warm sun, Harry could see students laid out on cloaks, eyes closed, enjoying their weekend without a care in the world. Nothing in the weather portrayed either Harry or Hermione's confused feelings, however, and as they walked, they grew more and more aware of the strangeness of their predicament.
"It's hard to ignore, isn't it?" Hermione said vacantly, her eyes straying from her feet to the far side of the grounds.
"Yeah."
"I wouldn't have it any other way, you know that, right?"
Harry was surprised when this comment did not startle him.
"I mean," she continued, "I would rather it be you, as opposed to Ron."
It took every ounce of strength in his body to keep himself from smiling at her. "I know what you mean."
"I wish I knew what those bloody fairies wanted, though," Hermione said quickly, referring back to her frustrated demeanor, "They've had their fun, haven't they?"
Harry shrugged, though he knew Hermione could not see him. "I dunno. I suppose they think they're doing something right."
He heard her sigh. "I suppose… But your cloak, and Malfoy? I have a feeling that's not a coincidence, Harry."
He could only smile weakly; the thought of that strange encounter made his head ache. "I thought you were against solving this mystery, Hermione."
"I could only go so long without wanting another," she said in a businesslike way, her voice brisk.
Harry wasn't fooled. He grinned.
"Oh, here we are!" Hermione said, planting herself firmly in front of Hagrid's hut. "Go on, Harry, knock."
Harry heard the quaver in her voice as he knocked on Hagrid's large wooden door. They heard frantic barking inside, some scuffling, and Hagrid appeared in the doorway. He looked down at Harry and Hermione and his weathered face reddened slightly. He rubbed his hands together nervously.
"Hello, yeh two… c'mon, come in…"
He ushered them into his home, and shut the door behind him. He scurried off to a black kettle, which was hissing loudly on the stove. Fang jumped up on Harry, so that his paws almost rested on his shoulders. Harry buckled under his weight.
"Tea?" Hagrid asked, gesturing toward the kettle, as Fang barked happily and jumped down from Harry, retreating into a corner with a pleased wag of his tail. Harry and Hermione shook their heads, and Hermione said quickly, "Hagrid, we have to talk to you. It's important."
"Yeah, I s'pose it was goin' ter come eventually," Hagrid admitted sheepishly, "I knew somethin' like this was bound ter happen, I just knew it."
His beady eyes looked over at the pair of them in interest. "Yeh made quite a show in front of the Great Hall like that. It was quite somethin'." The two of them blushed. "But yeh see, I guess I'm partly to blame. I never knew those fairies would actually do somethin' like that. Fact, I didn' expect anyone to see `em. It was a test, see. Those who said they saw `em, were probably lyin'. Blimey, fairies never come ter anyone unless they think it's important… `Sides, I never saw `em anyways, so I guess I wouldn' know."
Hermione looked at him in mild confusion. "Why send us in though, when you didn't even know if the fairies even existed?"
At that, Hagrid smiled self-mockingly. "Legend," he grunted, "Dumbledore's idea, yeh know. Said that there were fairies there in his day… in my day…" he trailed off. "But Dumbledore's a smart man. I trusted him, and still do. He's not one to make choices without a reason."
The kettle began to scream again, and Hagrid rushed over to tend to the fire.
* * *
They had gotten absolutely nowhere. Tired and exhausted, Harry and Hermione trudged back to the castle glumly, both awaiting miserably the assailment of giggles and whispers that were soon to come. Thankfully, Hagrid had kept them long past sunset, and most of the corridors were empty, save few students who rushed past and paid them no heed. They knew, however, that as long as they were in the Gryffindor common room, they would be subject to an onslaught of questions and annoying gossip, and that, in itself, was utterly frightening.
Neither Hermione nor Harry had seen hide or hair of Ron since his dramatic departure, and if Harry had not been preoccupied with his own worries, this would have bothered him tremendously. The fact remained though, that Hermione was indeed on his side, and the sacrifice of dragging her along (due to the fairies' mischievously crafted plans) seemed rather trivial. There was something about having her supporting him that got him through the most difficult of troubles.
Stepping through the portrait hole together (The Fat Lady giggling relentlessly), they found themselves suddenly in a room silenced of any noise, countless curious eyes peering their way. As if on cue, everyone had stopped talking. Even the Creevy brothers Colin and Dennis turned around, wide-eyed and beseeching. A few first years squirmed nervously in their armchairs by the fireside.
"I'm never getting any reading done now," Hermione whispered in Harry's ear. He watched Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil giggle together at a table, exchanging knowing looks, their books completely forgotten.
"Revolting, isn't it?" Hermione whispered again, trying to keep her face impassive, "I'll have to fall asleep before they begin harassing me."
Harry knew that she was trying to make light of the situation, yet this was only Gryffindor, and his fellow classmates were already giggling and pointing at them like crazed fanatics.
"I'm going to bed," Hermione said, sighing. She paused for a second, as though on the verge of saying something, then stopped herself. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry. Goodnight."
Harry turned around and watched her figure disappear up to the girl's dormitories, and felt suddenly very alone. Without a second thought about it, he too left, hurrying up to his own dormitory, amid the curious calls of the Gryffindors below.
He reached his room in complete relief, and dropped onto his bed. He closed his eyes tightly, his head pounding, and tried to drift away into dreamland, where no one would ask him questions or sneak comments behind his back. He felt worse, though, that Hermione was also getting this kind of attention. Perhaps it was because he was used to being gawked at, but the thought of people making even more rumors wasn't too horrible. The prospect, however, of Hermione getting thrown into the mix gave him a pang of guilt…
"Tired, are you?" came a scathing voice from the front of the room.
Harry grudgingly opened his eyes. Ron was standing in front of him, wearing a look of complete distaste. His face was slowly reddening.
"About time you came back. Out alone with Hermione, catching up with your complicated love lives?"
Harry felt his temper begin to boil. "Ron, you don't understand what you're talking about."
Ron's sneer apparent, Harry knew that he was just trying to get a rise out of him. "Didn't fancy telling me that before you bloody snogged in front of the whole school…"
"You weren't listening," Harry spat angrily, "You didn't even let Hermione finish!"
Ron glared, but in all other respects, completely ignored Harry's logic. "Apparently, you didn't think I would take it well. How many other secrets are you hiding from me? How much else will I have to force out of you?"
"We were going to tell you, Ron," Harry said through clenched teeth, the blood pounding in his ears, "that the fairies gave us a love potion."
Harry wanted Ron to accept this graciously, or ask some questions, or even laugh, but he did neither of these things. He glared at Harry angrily, looking perfectly insulted. "You don't have to sugarcoat it for me," he said contemptuously, "I understand when I'm not wanted. See you around."
Breathing heavily, Ron stormed out of the room, but not before Harry saw a sliver of familiar material folded haphazardly under his arm.
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Ooh, and the plot thickens. ^_^
Gr, Ron is so annoying to write… but he's slightly easier than the other characters. *shrugs* Does that say anything about me, I wonder? Lol.
Thank you tremendously for the encouraging reviews last chapter. They really made my day.
Love,
-Lauren