A/N: LOL, a reviewer brought up a very good point that I want to clarify … First of all, I'm glad you don't know where I'm going with this, because I want it to be a surprise. :) Hmm… About Hermione's reactions - did you read the 1st and 2nd chapter thoroughly? She hates it, but she's going along with it - for Harry's sake. That's the kind of person I have always seen her as. Uh, yeah, as for Dumbledore's "matchmaking", you don't really know the whole story behind my Moerae fairies, eh? Or their potion? That's all I have to say. ^_^ Thanks for the review. I'm glad someone asked about that.
And to you poor confused ones … I'm sorry. I really am. Don't worry, though, I'll have it perfectly clear in the end. Also, look at what Dumbledore says in the last chapter. It gives a clue. And, to tell you guys the truth, some people's (*coughMalfoycough*) motives aren't exactly what you think (don't worry, he's still as bad as ever, lol). Yeah … don't want to give too much away …
Ah! One more hint - not everything in this story is related to the main mystery. Maybe I'm trying to throw you guys off-track. *giggles evilly*
One more thing … fledge - yeah, I know! Here I am, supposedly writing this "two-shot" joke kind of story, and all of a sudden it's a full-length novel! I honestly didn't plan it to be this way … I just got all of these ideas floating around in my head, and I couldn't get them out. So here I am. I think I'll finish it soon, though, and then I'll have more time to work on Downtrodden, which is really exciting for me. It covers an aspect that I've never seen done before. Anywho, thanks for the review! And to everything else, thank you! I love you all! ^^
(lol, I think I hold the record for longest author's notes ever … I just like to talk with you guys … it's fun!)
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The new day dawned a new kind of horror for Harry and Hermione - classes. Or, in fact, the blatantly lesser amount of teaching being done lately, due to random outbursts of giggles. It was terrible by itself listening to the whispers following them between classes, at breakfast, and down the drafty corridors. Everyone seemed to find it hilariously funny when Harry and Hermione blushed red whenever they threw a well aimed, "Aw, isn't that cute?" their way. In fact, it was customary to do so whenever they passed. It wasn't that the majority of the school was cruel in any way, but Harry Potter was involved, and that was their motivation. It was just too wonderful to resist - a real-life drama at their very school.
Harry was (most of the time), ignoring their remarks and continuing on his way. He was used to all of the attention, good or bad, and it didn't affect him much anymore. He tried to convince Hermione to overlook it, but she was taking it quite personally, and trembled with suppressed rage whenever a fellow student passed. She even snapped at a couple of first years doing their homework in a corner of the common room, sending them scattering for cover. Harry was noticing the subtle metamorphose of Hermione's clipped, but mellow behavior into a demon-like frenzy of wrath, and though he didn't particularly support or embrace it, he understood why she was acting that way.
One day, however, she snapped. It was in Herbology, tending to frothing omnivorous Venus Flytraps, that she suddenly ripped off her gloves, threw them to the ground, and stormed out of the greenhouse, her hand pressed to her forehead. Ron, who was in the class at that time, and looking rather tired, merely watched her leave. Harry, before he could think twice, excused himself and ran after her.
She didn't run away as Harry approached, but she continued walking angrily, breathing out irate huffs of air.
"Hermione -," he started.
She turned around slowly, taking deep, resounding breaths, as if to pacify her fiery temper. "What … what is it?"
He found that he didn't know what to say, that he followed after her by instinct, and instinct alone.
"I'm worried about you," he said simply, "I know all of this attention is terrible, but -,"
"This is your life," she interrupted, "I didn't know. How could I?" She groaned suddenly and dropped to the luscious grass. Harry knelt next to her. "Oh, Harry … I didn't know. It's dreadful. I'm just so tired of all of this. Why won't they leave us alone?"
Harry sighed heavily. "They're just seizing the opportunity, I guess."
Hermione massaged her hands onto her forehead. "I have a horrendous headache."
Harry touched his scar briefly. "Yeah."
"Dumbledore didn't make sense. He just mumbled at us. And then he's expecting us to have this stupid revelation about something that I have no idea about! I mean … honestly … how am I supposed to feel about that? And you - you have to kiss me whenever you look at me! How's that for fun? I bet you're having loads of happy thoughts doing that …" She trailed off. "But it doesn't matter now, does it? I'm so smart, aren't I? I can figure out everything he throws at me! Well, why doesn't he just hand me everything he wants done?! That would help!"
Harry knew Hermione too well to try and confront her about her irrationality, and let her rant continue, watching the side of her face closely. Her endearing bushy hair seemed to crackle with static electricity.
Hermione buried her head in her hands. "It could've been anyone … anyone … why did he have to make it hard for us - for our friendship?" She clenched her fist. "I'm so sorry!"
"Sorry?" Harry repeated, bemused, "This isn't your fault, Hermione."
"But I know, Harry … I know about the potion … I didn't tell you … I …" Shakily, suddenly she stood up off the ground, brushing off stray twigs and leaves. "I figured it out …"
Harry stood up as well. "What? What do you mean?"
Attempting to sound calm, but failing miserably, Hermione said hoarsely, "I have to leave. I have to go to the library … I need to go to the library …"
"Hermione -,"
"I can't tell you!" she cried shrilly, deliberately avoiding his questioning gaze. "Harry, I just can't!"
She looked past his shoulder. "I have to go …"
Her eyes met his briefly before she shuddered, closed her eyelids tightly, and hurried away, leaving Harry standing alone staring after her. He felt hollow, scraped of his insides - he wanted to hurry along after her, catch up with her, but his feet wouldn't respond to his pleading. His heart flopped pathetically inside his chest.
Harry felt a presence at his shoulder and he turned around defensively.
"Hi," said Ron, and Harry turned away. "What's wrong with Hermione?"
Harry watched her closely, now a dark speck against the castle's dreary backdrop. "Wish I knew."
"Maybe all of those classes caught up with her," Ron pointed out. "The stress, you know."
"Yeah … maybe …"
"Listen, if it has anything to do with me," started Ron uncomfortably, "I'm sorry. I've been really busy, and I know I was an ass."
Unbridled anger bubbled up inside Harry. How he dared think that Hermione was irritated on his behalf … Why, Harry had never heard such a stupid idea in his life. He gritted his teeth, turning away, in hope that Ron would get the message and leave him alone.
"You're still upset over your Invisibility Cloak, aren't you?" Ron was talking again.
And there it was again - the disgusted pang in his stomach that rendered him almost speechless with fury.
"Listen, if it makes it any better … I was going to tell you about it … But then I lost it, you know, that one day … and Malfoy got it … I thought I'd better wait."
Harry spat, in a voice sounding much unlike his own, "What were you doing?"
The pang. Harry suddenly realized what it was. Uncharted jealousy, which had no basis in fact, that existed only because Hermione existed. If Ron had done anything with Hermione, Harry didn't know what he'd do … it hurt because it was possible. Illogical, yes, but possible.
"Well," Ron started out, sheepishly, "Bugger, mate, this is embarrassing …"
Harry turned around to face him. Ron backed away at the wild look in his blazing eyes. He gulped some air.
Ron sighed heavily. "You see, when it started out a few weeks ago, I was just flying. To practice, right? And then, one day, Luna Lovegood sort of followed me down to the pitch … and …" Ron's expression was of suppressed ecstasy. "I guess we hit it off. I've been coming back down there every time I can …"
Harry's relief was so great that he felt lightheaded and dizzy. It was like he took a dose of medicine, and it swept through his veins, clearing his body of any feelings of ill will. He felt free, floating, happy. Harry marveled at the feeling. Unconsciously, he smiled to himself.
"So I guess that means that you're not mad?" Ron asked hopefully. "I really am sorry, mate."
Harry's smile faded and he looked at his friend firmly, but thoughtfully. "You were upset at me, too."
Ron's ears went red. "Yeah … see … I was just really overloaded. Ginny was starting to figure out what was going on with me and Luna, and it was a real shock to see my best friends snogging … and liking it. I don't know - I felt really left out … and I felt I couldn't talk to either of you about Luna, because you were too caught up with each other to notice me …"
Harry's heart was beating quickly. "What?"
"Bloody hell, Harry, it's so obvious. That time in the Great Hall …" Harry turned a brilliant shade of red at the memory. "You two were all over each other … but it doesn't really matter now, does it? It was the potion that did it all. I'm actually amazed. It looked genuine to me."
"Yeah," muttered Harry vaguely, looking back towards the looming castle.
Ron watched him. "Maybe you should talk to her. Sort some things out."
"She doesn't want to talk."
"I think she does, Harry. Girls always want to talk. Just be sensitive, and they'll open up like a book. Believe me, it works every time."
Harry sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands. "I never thought I'd see the day when Ron Weasley gives me advice on how to talk to girls …"
"Live and learn, mate," said Ron, grinning. "Hermione's no different - she's a female like the rest of them."
"Luna taught you well."
Ron rolled his eyes. "How do you know I didn't just figure that out by myself?"
Harry laughed shortly, but it ended up sounding like a snort. "Because you're not sensitive enough. You have got the emotional range of a teaspoon, remember?"
Ron scowled. "Oh, shut it. You're the one quoting Hermione."
But it was a moment too late. Harry was already striding towards the castle. Ron, chuckling, called after him, "Don't have too much fun without me, Harry!" Harry turned around just as Professor Sprout came outside, her hat askew and her cheeks smudged with dirt. She saw Ron, put her grimy hands upon her hips, and gestured violently for him to go back inside the greenhouse, with an audible, "Upon my word, Mr. Weasley! Your plant is eating up all the bobotubers!" Several high-pitched screams erupted from inside, and Ron, with a fleetingly amused look Harry's way, rushed to the rescue.
* * *
Harry wasn't stupid.
Rash maybe, but definitely not stupid. He knew, as only the finest of friends could know, what Hermione would think if he burst dramatically into the library, calling out her name as though his life depended on it. And he knew what her response would be if he swept her into his arms and snogged her senseless in front of everyone, amid Madame Pince's angry screeches and flailing, assailing dusters. Of course Harry knew he could not use his typical tactics for such a sensitive matter.
Yet … he himself was also in need of comfort.
He felt terrible to dwell on such a selfish, conceited thought, but still it was wholesomely true. Were he questioned whether he would rather hide away in his dormitory or spend every living moment with her, he would have chosen the latter. However, all good things come at a cost - and Harry's cost was the problem that he could not even stand at close proximity with her without risking the chance that he would impulsively kiss her. Briefly he wondered if the potion was accountable for this newfangled dilemma also, but this was washed away as new, terrifying thoughts overcame him.
What was he to do around her? She wasn't the least bit stupid. The question was whether she would take it as real, or a part of the potion's mysterious qualities. Maybe that was the secret then, Harry thought blandly; Maybe the potion makes you fall in love with someone. But as he was thinking (and thinking how clichéd his thoughts were), he remembered the stupid voice in the back of his mind that chanted endlessly about "creating destinies". Well, Harry didn't want to create a destiny - he wanted to fix one. And of course the potion made people fall in love - it happened to him, didn't it? With the unlikeliest person imaginable, too. Hermione.
Aimlessly, Harry wandered away from the library's doors and strode off in the other direction, mumbling characteristically.
But why was that so unlikely? he asked himself, frowning in thought. Why was the thought of Hermione and himself being … He stopped himself uncertainly … like that … unlikely? There was nothing wrong with her, was there? In fact, she was rather perfect … intelligent, charismatic, empathetic, funny when the time called … beautiful … yes … ravishing, really …
Harry swore, turned a sharp left, and slammed himself into the wall. Swiftly he knocked his forehead against the chilled concrete. Once … twice …
"Trying to knock some sense into that empty head of yours, Potter?" a voice hissed malevolently. Harry's blood boiled on the spot and he lifted his head off of the wall for a moment.
"As a matter of fact," Harry said, raising his voice angrily, "I am."
Malfoy sneered. "Hilarious, Potter."
Harry spun around to face him, and noticed Colin Creevey's camera slung around his neck. Malfoy smirked. "You like? I nicked it from that little Gryffindor ninny - you know, that mindless fan of yours." He laughed derisively at Harry's sullen scowl. Harry opened his mouth to retaliate, but Malfoy cut him off. "Oh, you want to give it back, do you? You want to be a grand hero?"
Harry reached into his pockets for his wand, and was horrified to find it gone. Malfoy's evil smile brightened. "I wouldn't come close to this camera if I were you, Potter." He raised his own wand, sneer apparent.
Harry's head was pounding with rage. "What do you want with the camera anyway?" he spat through gritted teeth.
"Funny you should ask," Malfoy said flourishingly, walking around Harry, keeping the wand pointed at his chest, "If I were any less intelligent, I would actually tell you - but fortunately, I'm not. It's hilarious, really, to watch you suffer." Harry was listening intently to every word, resorting to glaring at the floor instead of at Malfoy's greasy pointed face. "And who cares that the fool Dumbledore feels like it's 'intruding upon his private business'." Malfoy laughed mockingly and Harry clenched his fists. "Poor, weak, foolish Potter. Without your lapdogs, you're nothing …"
"I don't see your horde of Malfoy-worshipping idiots," Harry spat, his eyes flashing dangerously, "Perhaps they're still in class, trying to add two plus two."
Malfoy looked like he was considering this. "Perhaps." He rolled his eyes. "But I really want to know where that Weasley girl is."
"What?" Caught by surprise, Harry narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"The why is not your business. I need to talk to her about this." He pulled up the sleeves of his robes, and Harry was appalled to see a long, raw burn across his forearm. It sported welts, and it looked like someone (Madame Pomfrey, Harry guessed) had been forced to burst a few blood blisters, which were now oozing with a kind of sickening greenish-tinted puss, which, to Harry, looked poisonous. Some of the skin had been charred a sickening brownish-red color. Even Harry, who was used to terrible injuries, felt himself feeling sickened.
Malfoy winced slightly and pulled his robes back down over his arm. "Where is she?"
Harry glared at him. "I'm not pitying you. Whatever happened, it was either you or your blubbering friends that did it."
Laughing maliciously, Malfoy replied, "I'm not looking for pity, Potter. I'm looking for the girl. Where is she?"
"I'm not letting you near her," Harry said sharply, glaring.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Dear Lord. Shall I ask the Mudblood instead?"
Harry's patience (or whatever was left of it) was nearly at its breaking point. "Firstly, her name is Hermione. Secondly, she hates you even more than I do. She's after your skin."
"Then I'll be sure not to wash it," said Malfoy sarcastically. Harry clenched his fists and made a menacing move towards him. Malfoy sighed. "Honestly, Potter, just shag her already. It'll solve both of our problems." He smirked and twirled his wand. "If she's in your bedroom all of the time, I won't have to see her ugly -,"
Harry wasn't quite sure what happened, but his blood pounded in his veins, his heart rate increased furiously, and his fist was suddenly making contact with Malfoy's jaw. There was a sickening snapping sound - like the crack of a whip - a resounding yell, and Malfoy was suddenly backing away from Harry, his eyes wide with anger and disbelief, his hand holding his jawbone. Blood was oozing from a nasty cut on his lip. Harry's fist was throbbing painfully.
"What was that sound?" came a shrieking voice from around a corridor corner, "Honestly, screaming and yelling at this hour! A fine display to be sure … a couple of banshees, no doubt … if this were anywhere near my ward …"
Madame Pomfrey came around the corner, muttering to herself. Angered, she stormed up to the pair of them. "Explain yourselves!" she screeched. "And you, Mr. Malfoy! Why aren't you in your bed, resting? I haven't even given you your potion to dull the pain!" She gestured animatedly at his robed arm. "I was looking everywhere for you! Never in my life was a patient just disappeared from my care. Honestly!"
Harry opened his mouth, but Madame Pomfrey cut him off with a strange little huff. "Never mind, never mind!" She grabbed their arms and dragged them along. "You both are going to the hospital wing! I will speak to your heads of house about this, believe me! Fighting in the corridors, and during classes, for Merlin's sake!"
Malfoy glared daggers at Harry, and Harry just scowled back. Feeling furious, Harry followed Madame Pomfrey's lead to the hospital wing.
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A/N: Ooh, the mystery is coming to a close (hopefully! LOL). But, we have another mystery - Malfoy. What does he want with Colin's camera? And why does he want to speak to Ginny? Hmm. This is interesting to write, let me tell you.
Yay! I got a new pet! I'm up to eight now. His name is Hal, and he's a goldfish. It was actually funny, because my mom had a surprise birthday party, and her friend brought us a cute silver and gold fish. My mom named him Hal because of the Hungarian word for fish, which sounds … er … like "Hal", I guess. Er, yeah. Anyway, I now have eight pets. Two dogs, two cats, two guinea pigs, a parrot, and a goldfish named Hal.
Random train of thought, sorry. Totally irrelevant to anything.
Hope you enjoyed! I know there wasn't any cute H/Hr stuff, but there will be soon enough, I promise. I thought it was cute how Harry stood up for her, finally, though. I was giggling when I was writing. My dad asked me if I needed some special medicine. I'm not sure if he was serious or not. Thanks a bunch for reading, anyway! Your reviews are spectacular!
-Lauren