Curtain Call

A/N: Shock horror! This DOESN’T belong to me. So there, you suer people.

PLEASE NOTE!: The start I have copied from another fic of mine, which I posted – but then deleted. So no, I did not copy anyone else’s work, OK? It is loosely based on Looking for Alibrandi, a terrific read which I strongly recommend.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Panic was the first raw emotion which coursed through her veins.

Hermione’s mind went blank and all she could hear was a faint buzzing noise in her head – the sound of utter silence.

She frowned at the set of questions in front of her. Multiple choice, she thought to herself. Should be easy enough, but she didn’t want to get any wrong. She looked around at the rest of the class; most of them head down and busily writing. She already ruled out D and A, but she was tossing up between B and C. Hermione scarcely ever struggled when it came to school work, but this was different. Very different.

‘Granger?’

‘Huh?’

‘You are reading?’

A slight pause. ‘Yes?’

‘May I ask Miss Granger, if what you are reading has anything to do with what we are talking about?’

Hermione looked up at Professor Snape, the one and only teacher who didn’t like her at Hogwarts for seven years. She was horrified about what was happening and wanted desperately to sink through the floor, but he didn’t move.

‘Please read out to the class what you were reading,’ he said icily

Hermione sighed and stood up. She cleared her throat. ‘Are you a trustable? If your friend’s totally hot boyfriend put the moves on you at a party would you: A) Go with him, B) Through your cocktail on his dress robes, C) Tell him in no uncertain terms about your loyalty to your friend or D) cause a big scene telling your friend loudly.’

You could see why B and C were both distinct possibilities.

The class exchanged snide comments about Hermione getting into trouble firstly, and what she was reading. Ron made a face at Snape.

‘And what, may I ask, Miss Granger,’ said Snape in his oily voice, ‘does this have to do with Potions?’

Hermione looked the class, Gryffindor with sympathy written on their faces and Slytherins sneering. They thought she was beaten.

‘Well, Professor, I was merely reading over the material for this class.’ She started. ‘After all, we were talking about what has influenced us over the years and you only mentioned Potions. Well, I think the media is an integral part of what influences us as teenagers and merely wanted to bring it up for research measures and to show that it isn’t just Potions which can bring out truth and bravery, etc. This magazine . . .’

But he wasn’t fooled. ‘Twenty points from Gryffindor and detention, Granger.’

Hermione turned very red and sat down.

‘I would have picked A.’ said Pansy loudly. ‘But you wouldn’t have to worry Hermione, because it will never happen to you.’

But strangely enough, Snape didn’t notice.

Hermione couldn’t quite say when things went wrong that morning.

First of all, she woke up three minutes late. It was generally agreed that Hermione had a perfect internal clock, and she worried about this while doing her tie and brushing her hair – which thankfully, had tamed down to silky curls after many years of ridicule. Her hair was once bushy and fluffy, and needed restraining at all times.

So of course, when she met Harry and Ron at breakfast all her favourite cantaloupe was gone. She had to have watermelon instead, which wouldn’t have been so bad, but clumsy Neville spilt a glassful of milk on it. Needless to say, she didn’t have much of an appetite after that.

‘He’s a slimy git,’ said Ron comfortingly after class.

Hermione winced. ‘My tummy rumbled.’ She said. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘Alert the media,’ said Harry. ‘Hermione Granger is actually hungry for once.’

‘Shut it, Potter.’ Said Hermione. ‘Not everyone can have colossal appetite like you two.’

‘You have the appetite of a sparrow.’ Said Ron. ‘A small one.’ He added thoughtfully.

‘As much as I enjoy your meticulous diagnosis of my eating habits, I am not going to talk to you while I dig in.’

And so she did.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Ron was animatedly explaining his new tactic for Harry while he listened, enthralled. After Hermione and Harry had been appointed Head Girl and Head Boy respectively along with – to their regret – Draco Malfoy (the position which Hermione was sure his father blackmailed to make sure he got) and Hannah Abbot. Dumbledore had decided to have four Heads of the school, because the workload was getting ever increasing.

To Ron’s delight, after years of worshipping the game of Quidditch, he was Gryffindor Keeper as well as the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. As sympathetic as he was about Hermione and Harry being within a fifty metre radius of Draco Malfoy’s living quarters, he would happily chat with them in their Common Room until the late hours of the night.

Hermione was – surprise, surprise – finishing off an assignment which Professor McGonagall gave that very day, which wouldn’t be due until four weeks time and occasionally casting amused looks over at the pair of Quidditch enthusiasts before her. In her opinion, Quidditch was another sport which she happened to like watching from the firm, solid stands.

At that moment, all seemed peaceful and happy enough. But while Hermione rolled up her parchment with a sense of satisfaction and while Harry and Ron chalked up a fantastic new attacking method for Chasers and while Hannah was asked out by Justin Finch-Fletchley; a tall silvery haired Slytherin was sitting by the window-sill and hating the world.

Hermione sat down beside Harry and they put their little blackboard away. Presently, they began talking about anything and everything and their laughter rankled on Malfoy’s nerves. Harry’s smile faded away and he paused, his hands immediately flying to his forehead where a certain scar burned white-hot.

Ron stopped talking mid-sentence and Hermione stopped laughing.

Malfoy turned to look at Harry who was pressing his hand to his forehead, Hermione with her arm gently on his back.

Ron looked at Malfoy long enough to shoot him a glance filled with loathing, and smirking in return, he swept up to his room.

Harry shakily withdrew his hand and gulped. Hermione looked at him worriedly and Ron swallowed uneasily.

‘It’s all right.’ Said Harry, quietly. ‘All gone.’ He looked quickly at Hermione’s golden brown which looked at him so intensely and reverted his gaze back to his hands. He didn’t need to get that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach like his sometimes did when he saw her at that moment.

Hermione stood up and extended a hand to Harry. ‘Come on. Dumbledore told us to see him when this happened.’

Reluctantly, Harry rose and touching his scar lightly, they made their way to Dumbledore’s office.

‘Harry,’ said Snape silkily. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘We’ve come to see Professor Dumbledore,’ said Harry through gritted teeth.

‘Because his scar was burning,’ added Hermione.

Snape paused for a fraction of a second. ‘Come.’ He said, giving the password (‘Canary Cream.’) and they stepped onto the revolving staircase. ‘Your scar burned, Harry?’ he said looking swiftly at his hairline and back down at Harry.

‘Yes.’ Said Harry shortly.

Hermione could see Harry’s fists clenching and unclenching as they whirled further up onto the landing. Dumbledore looked up, mildly surprised at seeing the four of them there. ‘Yes?’ he inquired, his blue eyes peering over their half-moon glasses.

‘His scar was hurting.’ Said Snape. ‘Sir, you don’t think . . .’

‘Ah.’ Said Dumbledore, his eyes glinting. ‘That would explain a lot. Serverus,’ he said, handing a newspaper clipping towards him. ‘It arrived about a minute before you did.’

Snape passed the clipping to Ron. Hermione and Harry looked over his shoulder and read it in amazement. ‘Dark Mark Above Cornwall,’ read Hermione slowly. Scanning the article quickly, she added, ‘But no one was killed?’

‘No one.’ Said Dumbledore. ‘Now, listen carefully.’ He said seriously, his blue eyes without a glimmer of humour in them. ‘I don’t want any of you to go looking for trouble. We are doing the very best we can to protect you and I beg of you, don’t get angry,’ he said as his eyes rested on Harry’s. ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold.’

Harry shuffled and cast his eyes to the floor.

‘Send me Mr. Malfoy,’ said Dumbledore suddenly to Snape.

Snape left.

‘I ask you please, not to talk.’ He said gently. ‘Whatever is said here is between us. Harry, a word.’

Ron and Hermione left quietly, looking back at Harry before stepping out into the corridor.

They did not speak until they were at the portrait where the Head’s Common Room was. Ron paused. ‘Look, ‘Mione.’ He said quietly. ‘I think I’ll just head up to bed, OK?’

‘Of course.’ Said Hermione. She shivered and suddenly felt very cold.

Ron patted her on her shoulder and left, leaving Hermione alone in front of the portrait. ‘Pheonix.’ She said and went into the room.

She climbed into her favourite armchair by the fire and tossed a cozy blanket over her. She stared into the fire and curled her knees up to her chest. Her mind felt in a whirl. She closed her eyes but all she could see were wounded bright green ones looking straight back at her. She shook her head and summoned a hot chocolate from the kitchens and sipped it thoughtfully, her hands enjoying the warmth from it.

‘So that’s where that flying hot chocolate was off to.’ Said Harry quietly, sitting in an armchair opposite.

They sat in silence for awhile. Hermione didn’t ask about what Dumbledore said to him and Harry certainly didn’t divulge anything. So they sat, locking eyes, almost trying to read the other’s mind. Harry smiled slightly and sat up. ‘What do you’ll do after Hogwarts?’

‘I don’t know . . .’ mused Hermione, glad of a nice innocent topic of conversation. ‘I thought I might teach, or maybe even go to the new University they’re opening in America.’

‘Another Professor McGongall?’ said Harry a little thoughtlessly.

Hermione stiffened. ‘She isn’t that bad.’

Harry jerked his head up. ‘No, I mean – she isn’t bad and you’re not but . . .well – you’re both perfect.’ He said. ‘Like, perfect.’ He added, amending.

Hermione shook her head. ‘Only because I work hard.’

‘No, no.’ said Harry eagerly. ‘Not just in work. In everything, you’re nice and smart and beau . . .’ he hesitated. ‘Beautiful.’

Here they both coughed and Hermione turned pink and Harry, well he was just plain embarrassed.

‘Flatterer.’ Said Hermione quickly, with her famous sarcasm. But it just didn’t click. It wasn’t a time for sarcasm, she supposed. They didn’t speak for awhile.

Hermione watched the fire flicker in Harry’s green eyes and saw the power behind them. She almost got goose-bumps remembering the time when Malfoy was insulting her and Ron, and Harry was fuming and all over a sudden the goblet in Malfoy’s hand exploded, sending a shower of pumpkin juice over him. Wandless magic. There was just so much power personified in the little boy in front of him.

OK. So he wasn’t a little boy. Barely a boy at all. He had filled out and was still slender but very strong. He wasn’t as tall and Ron certainly, but he was a centimetre away from six feet as Ron often teased him about from his lanky altitude of six foot four and they both extremely tall from Hermione’s small frame. His black, glossy hair was still as messy as ever and his green eyes still as alluring.

Hermione always felt so safe, flanked on both sides by her two best friends – much to the disgust of many girls who clamored after Harry’s good looks, charm and super-hero status. She didn’t blame them. She also didn’t blame the others who were attracted to Ron’s easy going nature, either. She did wonder why girls threw themselves on Malfoy, but he was very good-looking, besides being a jerk.

Bang.

The portrait door swung open violently and the little girl in the portrait was scowling at Malfoy who stalked into the room. Giving them a poisonous look – which Harry returned – he went soundlessly and wordlessly to bed.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hermione woke up in the middle of the night.

Not worrying about dressing gowns or slippers, she padded quietly to the Common Room, where she found Harry asleep on the couch. He had fallen asleep after Hermione said good night and went to bed, she guessed.

The moonlight was on his face, making it pale and childlike. Who knew the kind of pressure he would be under. He stirred fretfully and tossed his head.

Taking the blanket that she had left behind, she covered him gently with it. Not wanting to risk him waking up, she stole away quietly when she heard his voice.

‘No, please!’ he murmured ‘Don’t!’

Hermione paused and turned around. Ready to explain what on earth she was doing, she opened her mouth.

And closed it.

He was talking in his sleep. ‘No, I don’t want to die. . .’ he voice was getting softer. ‘I need – I need . . .’ he voice was rising.

Without thinking, Hermione came towards him and rested her hand gently on his forehead, letting her fingers brush through his hair. He sighed and tossed once more. ‘It’s all right . . .’ Hermione whispered.

‘I can’t!’ he said. ‘I can’t tell her. It’s my secret. Mine!’

Hermione smoothed back his hair. ‘You’re talking nonsense.’ She said, absently wondering who this girl was and what secret he possessed.

‘You’re right . . .you’re right,’ said Harry. ‘As long – as long as we’re together . . .’

Hermione withdrew her hand quickly as his eyes fluttered open.

‘Harry, I . . .’

But he was asleep. Sound asleep.

Harry kicked off his blankets and turned onto his side, curled up like a kitten. Hermione looked at him for a moment longer and pulled the blanket back on him.

She left quietly, leaving him to sleep.

As she climbed back in the bed, his words echoed over and over in her head. I don’t want to die . . . his voice was pleading. She frowned and cuddled her blankets to her. What did You-Know-Who, Snape or anyone know of the Harry she did? In her mind, she saw the childlike Harry sleeping and pleading not to die, the same Harry who would joke and laugh with and the same Harry who had defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard when he was just a baby.

He was like a rough cut diamond, so many sides and looking into it you could see many different things. He was – he was –

He was snoring.

Loudly.

A/N: Hoped you liked. And if you did, I wouldn’t mind knowing. So hit the pretty review button and review! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

A/N: sbys, you did NOT copy me. So stress less, m’dear!

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hermione opened one eye and then the other. Her kitten, Salem was looking at her with a puzzled look on it’s face. After the passing of Crookshanks, her next present from her best friends was this bundle of fur. Hermione couldn’t help feeling traitorous to Crookshanks at first, but now loved the kitten very much and – to Ron’s disgust (he never had gotten over his dislike of That Cat, as he would call him) – still kept a picture on her dresser.

‘Rise and shine!’ crowed Harry from across the room. He flicked his wand at the curtains, which opened.

Hermione screwed up her eyes in the bright light and poked her tongue out at Harry. ‘I don’t like you, Potter.’ She said, pulling the duvet over her head.

Harry, not deterred, pulled it off her and threw it on the floor. ‘Come on, I have to show you something!’ he whined, sitting beside her.

Hermione opened one eye and stared straight at her best friend who was looking at her so earnestly. ‘Fine, fine.’ She muttered, caving in. Harry smiled happily, and turned around so she could change. She put on her school shirt, skirt and jumper and ran a brush through her hair.

Harry grinned at her and linked an arm through hers as they made their way downstairs on the chilly autumn morning.

They made their way up to the Astronomy Tower and Hermione’s mouth fell open. She entered the room uncertainly and glanced dubiously at a broom which was precisely the right height for her to mount. She sent him a look.

Harry pouted. ‘I made it!’

‘You what?’

‘Remember the other day,’ said Harry. ‘When me and Ron were talking about the latest Nimbus and you said you could make a broom too, and you worked out all the aero-dynamics and what-not?’

Hermione nodded slowly, a grin forming on her face.

Harry waved a bit of parchment with figures written all over in what was unmistakably Hermione’s own tiny handwriting.

‘You didn’t . . .’ she said slowly.

‘You’re good with your head.’ He said. ‘I’m good with my hands.’ He held them out.

Hermione smiled. ‘You know, with my head and your hands, we could do great things.’

‘What would your head want to do with my hands?’

‘We could form a new company,’ said Hermione getting excited. ‘A new brand of racing broom. . .’

‘We could be the first husband and wife . . .’ Harry stopped abruptly, reddened and putting his hands in his pockets. Where on earth had that little statement come from? ‘Forget that.’ He added.

‘I think you’d make a lovely husband.’ Said Hermione gently, she nudged him as if to say that she didn’t mind.

‘Bet you’d be good with kids.’ He said gruffly.

At that moment, Harry looked at her and couldn’t imagine ever being without her in his life. Her comforting words, her trust. Harry coughed nervously and felt afraid of emotions building inside him, scared of what they meant. He hastened to change the subject. ‘What’ll we call it?’

‘Emerald.’ She said absently, looking into his eyes.

Harry hesitated before moving a bit closer. ‘Emerald?’

‘The colour of your eyes.’ She said, whispering now because their faces were so close.

‘What about yours?’ suggested Harry.

‘What,’ scoffed Hermione. ‘Boring brown?’

‘No. Golden.’ He said, tracing a hand down her face.

The door banged open, and they sprang apart, both flushing furiously. Hermione bit her lip and looked down at the floor.

‘Cool, is that the broom you were on about?’ said Seamus, oblivious to any sentiment, thereof.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, when he saw Hermione leaving. ‘Hermione!’ he said instead.

Hermione turned and looked him straight in the eyes. ‘I have to get ready for class.’ She said simply. Walking briskly away, she broke into a run when she felt the burning gaze of Harry’s eyes could no longer see her.

‘So,’ said Seamus. ‘You were saying?’

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hermione’s thoughts were racing as she gathered her books in her dorm. She paused when she saw a picture of herself, Harry, Ron and Lavender together. She picked up the slender frame she kept it in and watch as her photographic self, smile back at her and kiss Harry on the cheek. Harry in turn, encircled an arm around her waist and held her to him. Hermione swallowed and sat back on her bed.

Her alarm clock ran loudly and she glanced at it impatiently. ‘Late for Advanced Defense Against Dark Arts,’ it cried gleefully. Hermione gasped and ran out of the room quickly, looking back to see Salem’s eyes looking back at her reproachfully.

She ran straight into Professor McGonagall, apologized and slipped into the classroom just as Professor Newmanl was in the act of hanging up his walking cane on a golden claw. She skidded to a halt and flung herself into her usual seat, propping her head on her hands.

‘I trust you won’t be late again.’ He said, giving her a stern look.

She reddened and fiddled with the tip of her quill.

‘As you all must know,’ said Professor Newman. ‘Dark Magic is getting ever stronger. So I have given you a project which you will do in groups of four - each different – that has absolutely nothing to do with it.’

Ron and Harry exchanged a look, and instinctively friends moved closer together in hope that they would be in the same group. Malfoy snorted derisively at the trio in front of him and ignored Crabbe and Goyle’s stupid remarks.

Ron took the slip of paper handed to him by Professor Newman and a smile spread across his face at the first two names and then was replaced so fast by a scowl of such a degree that Hermione’s was unsure that he smiled at all. Hermione examined her own slip and rolled her eyes. Typical.

‘This can’t be a coincidence!’ said Harry angrily. ‘Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy and yourself will be working on Ancient Dark Arts.’ He read aloud. ‘This is some stupid thing to educate us. This isn’t Advance Defense Against Dark Arts – this is Defense Against Voldemort.’

Several students looked uneasy at the usage of his name.

‘Believe me, Potter.’ Said Malfoy smoothly. ‘This is no pleasure for me either.’ His eyes flicked over to Hermione.

‘I can’t work with him,’ spat Hermione.

‘Work with, Miss Granger,’ said Professor Newman. ‘Not marry.’

Hermione exhaled loudly, clutching her books to her chest, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles were white.

‘Go on to the library,’ said their Professor again, cheerily. ‘Go research.’

Ron and Malfoy exchanging filthy looks, they stalked out of the now silent classroom, metallic footsteps echoing through the dungeon.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They had been working in silence, and the only sounds were rustling of parchment, scratching of quills and turning of heavy volumes. As seventh years who were doing Advance Defense Against Dark Arts, they were allowed to use the Restricted Section of the library.

Malfoy opened yet another volume which caused Ron to pass him a dirty look. ‘Why do you bother?’ he said, harshly.

Malfoy licked the tip of his index finger and turned a page. ‘I’m not sure what you mean, Weasley.’

‘Hasn’t daddy taught you all his Death Eater ways yet?’ Ron said. ‘We know he is one. Harry saw him.’

Malfoy’s eyes turned to Harry. ‘It’s none of your concern.’ He said icily. ‘You,’ his eyes rested on Ron. ‘should be worrying about whether those second hand robes of yours will last you another year.’

‘It’s getting old, Malfoy.’ Said Hermione.

‘Keep your Mudblood head out of my business.’ Retorted Malfoy.

Harry stood up quickly. ‘Shut the hell up, Malfoy.’ He said through clenched teeth. ‘I know your dad’s a Death Eater. And I know that you probably will follow in his slimy footsteps.’

‘Don’t you dare assume anything about me,’ said Malfoy. ‘Or my father.’

‘Boys!’ clucked Madame Pince at them, looking around the bookshelf.

Hermione watched Malfoy’s hands tremble as they turned another page of the book. ‘Do you think this project is for us to learn more about the Dark Arts?’ she said, changing the subject.

Harry hesitated. ‘Probably.’

Hermione nodded and returned to her perusal of her book. ‘Harry,’ she said suddenly. ‘Look at this.’

Harry leant towards her, and for a second she was distracted by the cologne he was wearing. She pointed to the last sentence on the page. ‘Flesh, Blood and Bone; also known as a weak rebirthing spell only works in few cases where immortality has also been attempted,’ she read.

Harry looked at her. ‘Go on.’ He said.

‘And that’s it.’ She said, sighing. She flicked a torn piece which ran down the center of the book. ‘Someone ripped it out. Someone went to great lengths to keep this spell a mystery.’

Harry frowned at the book and flicked through the corners of the book. ‘Maybe it was Crouch’s son.’

Ron shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

Malfoy looked at the volume carefully. ‘Can I have this?’ he said. Hermione raised and lowered an eyebrow. She nodded.

The bell tolled for the start of lunch. Malfoy left abruptly, running a finger down the spine of the book. Hermione, Harry and Ron stayed a few moments longer and Harry leant forward confidentially. ‘Look, here.’ He said.

Hermione took the book: Animagus, a New Way! was the title. Hermione glanced from him to the book. ‘I’m sure we can ask Professor McGonagall for help,’ she said.

‘I want to do this on my own.’ He said. He looked from Ron to Hermione quickly. ‘Will you?’

Hermione looked at him carefully and smiled suddenly.

‘Cool!’ said Ron, thumbing through the book.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

‘Draco!’

Malfoy winced at the high pitched, shrill voice which followed him and would not go away – just like a bad odour. ‘Sod off.’ He muttered and retreated to the Head’s Common Room where a sleek owl was standing patiently.

‘Flint.’ He said. Running the back of his hand down the silky feathered body, he took the envelope off his leg. Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out a biscuit and Flint pecked it up gratefully.

Malfoy watched him for a moment. He certainly never felt affection towards any person in this school. In fact, ever since the fantasy father he had made himself believe in proved false, he had little to love. His mother he did love, but scorned for being so weak.

He read the contents of the envelope swiftly and tore it up angrily. Tossing the pieces into the blazing fire, he heard sounds of laughter coming from outside.

One guess who it was.

Gritting his teeth, he sank into a chair and hated himself for the pang he felt in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t think it had anything to do with being hungry.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hogsmeade trip. As seventh years, though some of the novelty had worn off, it was good to get out of worrying about NEWTs. Ron was with Lavender, both beet red as Hermione gleefully told Harry from their own table only to receive a death stare from Ron who heard their sniggers.

‘Come on,’ said Harry loudly. ‘We’ll leave the lovebirds to themselves.’

Needless to say, they exited swiftly.

Still laughing and feeling giddy, Hermione and Harry walked into a little lane.

‘Poor Ronniekins, eh?’ said Hermione sitting on a bench outside a musty bookshop.

Harry’s laughter faded away and he pulled Hermione behind a crate quickly.

‘Harry, what . . .’

‘Shh.’ He said, pressing a finger to her lips.

Hermione flushed a little and looked down. Harry was surprised by the impulsive caress and also leant down. Sure enough, footsteps approached them and they heard familiar voices.

‘Serverus, please; you can’t think. . .’

‘It doesn’t signify what I think, Minerva. Facts are facts.’

‘He’s only seventeen, a child.

Hermione felt Harry stiffen against her.

Snape breathed heavily. ‘I know, I know.’

‘We must tell Lupin. He’s to spread word, you see?’

‘And Hagrid will come back with the contract with the giants.’

‘Serverus. I can’t believe, I just . . .’

‘History is repeating itself. We need to be prepared.’

‘And Miss. Granger, Mr. Weasley? What about them?’

‘Granger could be in more danger than you think, Minerva. He works with weakness.’

‘Works with . . .’

‘Newman has given a topic that would encourage the four of them to learn about Dark Arts. A brilliant idea, really. The four of them need protection and Granger could be inspired to research and formulate another spell, hex or potion.’

Professor McGonagall sounded like she was choking back a sob.

They passed by then, unaware that two teenagers by the names of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were staring at each other in utter shock.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hermione was studying in the Common Room, feverishly turning page after decrepit page of a enormous and ambiguous volume. Her tired eyes scanned down pages and she started violently when she heard the portrait door open.

Harry, not noticing her, walked passed and flung himself onto an armchair. He was pasted in mud and sweaty damp hair was poking up in alarming angles. He fixed an intense green-eyed gaze onto the fire which was dancing in the hearth. His face radiated with anger, yet he was still pale-faced. His face was childlike, but not weak.

Hermione looked at him for a moment, then turned back to the book. She picked up her quill and began to copy down information. Harry’s ears pricked up at the scratching of the quill and turned around.

‘Sorry.’ She whispered not sure what she was apologizing about, looking down at her ink stained fingers.

‘What are you doing?’ he said.

‘Homework.’ Said Hermione absently. ‘How was Quidditch?’

‘Might quit.’

‘What . . .’

‘I don’t want to talk about it. . .’ he trailed off. ‘What homework?’

I’m trying to save your life, silly boy, thought Hermione. And everyone else’s.

Harry was apparently interested by her absent answer and non-attention. He suspected something out of the norm and was right. These fighting spells were like gibberish to her and scarcely had Hermione struggled to enjoy a book, any book.

Harry saw just how obstinate Hermione could be and simply sat down beside her. She looked up at him once and smiled. Then she turned back to her work.

Harry swallowed. Her smile would light up her whole face. She didn’t smile all the time, but when she did it reached up to her eyes. Heck, maybe her nose and forehead as well. Her smile was like Butterbeer, it kind of warmed him up on the inside. He shook his head. What the hell? What kind of sappy thoughts was he having about his best friend? Snap out of it, Potter, he advised himself.

Hermione sneaked another look at Harry and was amazed to see that he, at a rapid pace, was slowly turning very red.

Harry generally gave himself good advice, though seldom followed it.

A/N: Thanks heaps for all the reviews! Keep them coming, and I’ll be posting within a fortnight or so. Love you all! : - )

~ Sassy

A/N: Don’t worry, Hermione isn’t going to end up like Josie from Looking For Alibrandi. I’m planning on writing a sequel too, so it will be H/H forever.

Ginny hugged her knees to her chest. ‘I’m so happy.’

Hermione smiled at the pretty redhead in front of her. ‘Dean asked you out?’ she asked, pointed to a nail polish in a pretty pink shade.

‘Yeah,’ said Ginny, uncapping it and beginning to paint Hermione’s toes. She herself chose a mint green shade, which Hermione had started to do.

‘Does Ron know?’ Hermione asked, blowing gently on the wet polish.

‘Does Ron know?’ said Ginny dramatically raising her eyes to the heavens. ‘God, no. He’d scare Dean off.’

The two irrepressible damsels laughed and both swung their legs off window seat, letting the polish dry. Hermione cuddled a cushion to her chest and lent back, while Ginny played with Salem.

‘Ooh, girls, is it a slumber party?!’ A high, silly voice said.

Hermione and Ginny looked towards the door and saw Harry mocking them in the doorway. He swayed his hips in a weird jerking fashion as he walked to towards them.

‘Oh, Gin, I just love the hair colour, is it natural?’ he said speaking as best as he could in a high falsetto voice. ‘And Hermione, that stuff on your nails is so you.’

‘Nail polish, Potter.’ Said Hermione laughing and throwing a pillow against him. Harry poked his tongue out at her which Hermione promptly did also.

‘Go away!’ said Hermione. ‘Go flirt with someone else – like Malfoy or something.’

Harry gave her a look. ‘Are you implying something?’ he said, back in his normal pitch, though in a mock-hurt way.

‘I know your little secret.’ Teased Hermione.

‘Which one?’

Hermione raised her eyebrows. ‘I know you have a thing for Malfoy, but I don’t blame you. He is sexy, isn’t he Ginny?’

‘Uh-huh. I’d kill for a chance with him.’

‘His gorgeous eyes –‘

‘- his silvery-blonde hair –‘

‘- his Quidditch talent –‘

‘- his wit –‘

‘You people make me sick.’ Said Harry, disgustedly.

Hermione and Ginny dizzily laughed again at Harry’s horrified face.

‘Really sick.’ He said, going and closing the door behind him.

‘Thank God, he’s gone.’ Said Hermione loudly.

The door opened as anticipated, and a raven-haired boy with wonderful eyes stuck his head in the room and pouted. ‘I heard that!’

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, and with the skill she was famous for, flicked her wand at the door which banged shut and banished Harry to the first-years dormitory, much to the dismay of Harry and the excitement of the giddy first-years who idolized Harry to a high degree.

‘Hermione!’ he yelled out to thin air, ‘This is so not funny!’

*

‘Does he do that often?’ asked Ginny, looking at her.

Hermione absently-mindedly refolded a blouse. ‘Do what?’

‘Barge in here.’

‘Yeah,’ said Hermione. She caught the look on Ginny’s face. ‘Oh, come on Ginny. He’s my best friend, remember?’

Ginny smirked and smiled naughtily. ‘Just friends, huh?’

‘Yes!’ said Hermione, a little too quickly.

Ginny had an unexpected bout of insight, which read Hermione’s defensive stance and rapidly flushing face like a book. She smiled to herself as Hermione folded another t-shirt without looking at her.

Ginny knew something that they didn’t.

Yet.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hermione walked swiftly down the corridors to the dungeons. She leant against a column and hugged her book to her chest, waiting for the library to open. After overhearing Professor McGonagall’s and Snape’s ominous conversation she had taken to scouring the library for old books which of course would not be suspected as un-Hermione-ish behaviour.

Harry had been disappearing every so often, to Dumbledore’s office. Hermione saw him come back, tired and wondered what on earth was going on. Ron and herself had discussed the matter and decided not to ask about it, unless Harry opened the conversation himself.

She was so lost in thought, she didn’t notice Malfoy come in close proximities to her. She scowled at him and tried to move, but Malfoy was in the way. ‘Go away, Malfoy.’

One simple word he uttered as menacingly as ever.

‘Mudblood.’ He said.

‘You’re seventeen.’ She said through gritted teeth. ‘Act your age and shut the hell up.’

‘Do you have any idea what kind of shit I’ve been going through?’

‘No, and I don’t intend to.’

Malfoy smirked and leant back, his hand still placed threateningly on her shoulder.

‘Hey!’ shouted Harry, who was passing by with Ron. Grabbing Malfoy by the neck of his robes he pushed him roughly away. Ron scowled at Malfoy and took a menacing step forward. Draco, shorter than Ron backed away, giving him a filthy look.

Hermione looked at the tableau before her and noticed a bruise starting to form on Malfoy’s arm.

‘Malfoy, what –‘

He followed her eyes to the bruise and touched it lightly before looking back at her. ‘Like you care.’ He said before stalking away.

‘What did he do?’ spat Harry. He looked at Hermione with hate in his bewitching eyes. Hermione flinched and stepped back.

Harry bit his lip and turned away, looking as if he betrayed his deepest secret.

‘Did he hurt you?’ asked Ron carefully.

‘N-no.’ said Hermione, bewildered by the immense hate which was radiating from Harry only a few seconds ago. She looked again at him, he was leaning against a stone wall with closed eye and looking pale and lifeless.

She gave Ron a startled look. He too looked at Harry and shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He mouthed and Hermione nodded at once.

They were quiet for awhile until Harry spoke up.

‘The library’s open.’ He said. Something of a smile lurked about his face, and when he turned to Hermione, the honest clear green eyes told nothing. It was as if the powerful wizard had vanished, and he was back to the old Harry; kind, honest, laughing and reckless.

But as she followed Ron into the library, she took another look back at Harry, only to see him looking sadly back at her. Embarrassed, she turned away quickly.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

‘Boo!’

Hermione jumped and Harry laughed. He put his hands on her shoulders and massaged them gently. ‘I told you,’ he said, with a lopsided grin. ‘You’re studying too hard. You’re too jumpy.’

Hermione relaxed. ‘Remind me when I’m stressed I need you to give me a shoulder rub.’

Harry turned her around and sat her down on a wooden chair. He drew another up and sat in it, so close, their knees were touching. Hermione felt tingly feelings just by the mere contact, but leant back and forced herself to concentrate on Harry.

Bad idea. She just got lost in his eyes.

‘Hermione?’

‘Uh-huh?’ said Hermione absently, looking up.

‘Are you scared of me?’ he said very seriously.

Hermione bit her lip. ‘Oh, Harry.’ She started. ‘I’m not scared of you.’ She drew her knee up to her chest and rested her chin on them.

Their faces were level, and to avoid looking into his eyes, she just traced a pattern on Harry’s knee. She made an elephant, a flower and a house.

Harry swallowed at the feeling of her light tracing on his knee. He closed his eyes for a moment. Concentrate, Potter.

‘I didn’t mean to snap at you today, I just –‘

‘You’re powerful Harry.’ She said. ‘It’s just – well – sometimes you’re laughing, joking Harry and then all of a sudden you’re – you’re . . . you’re so powerful and sometimes, well, I’m afraid.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Not of you. For you.’

Harry didn’t know quite what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

Hermione poking him in the ribs. ‘Enough serious stuff, OK?’

Harry raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Positive.’ Hermione insisted.

He lunged at her and tickled her mercilessly.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They lay back, on the rug; Hermione gasping for breath and Harry chuckling.

Hermione watched him smile, unheeded and freely. This was the way it should be.

She hardened her heart against the piece of an insult to vermin which threatened to destroy this person beside her.

What did he know of him. That he was kind, fun-loving and sweet? He knew nothing, and still he would hurt him.

And in the process, destroy her as well.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

At that moment, Harry could have done anything.

He felt powerful, like he could fly unaided and move mountains.

It was because of her. God, it was because of her.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hermione didn’t know quite when the realization took place.

Perhaps, it was when he grinned in his vintage, lopsided way.

Or maybe, the way they would pretend to flirt with each other.

Maybe it was when he brushed an annoying strand of hair off her face.

It could be when he hugged her in greeting at King Cross Station.

It could be when he built that broom.

Or the slip of the tongue about marriage.

Hell, it could have been when she first met him.

Only now she realized the truth.

She was in love with Harry Potter.

Harry Potter, her BEST friend.

Best FRIEND.

OK, Houston, we have a problem.

A/N: Pretty short chappie, only seven pages Word document long, but I thought that way a nice place to end it.

Review please, I’d be most honoured if you do!

~ Sassy

READ AUTHOR NOTE!!!!

A/N: Most of the below chapter are edited versions of another fan-fic which I wrote a few years back – called: Freedom, Truth, Beauty, Love . . . Harry Potter? So it is not copied off anything, if it seems familiar, that is why!

Hermione was crouching in front of the bookcase in their Common Room, when none other than Harry Potter’s own voice called her name.

She panicked, jumped and hit her head under the shelf of the bookcase.

‘See?’ said Harry. ‘Too jumpy.’

Hermione forced a smile and sat down. Harry sat down next to her and watched as she opened a book and carefully began writing in her impossibly neat and tiny handwriting. The Common Room was empty. Hannah had gone to the library and Malfoy was heaven knows where, so only Harry and Hermione remained in the silent room.

Hermione usually enjoyed times like these; where Harry was not distracted by other people and they discussed numerous items of interest. After that interesting revelation the night before, Hermione found herself in a predicament. But still, she managed to be her usual quick-witted self. Harry too, she noticed keenly, was the same. He still teased her in the usual friendly/flirty way, sometimes stumbling on words when she fixed her eyes on him. Everything seemed to stay exactly the same.

Exactly the same.

Hermione kept writing, but she was acutely aware of an intense green-eyed gaze which was placed on her. The bell soon rang and they headed down to Potions.

Yuck. Potions with Snape. What could possibly be worse?

Pansy Parkinson approached them swiftly.

Damn. That was a dumb question which tempted fate.

‘Look, Granger. Two Muggles have died in a football game. Wonder who’s next, huh?’ she cackled turning that infamous pug nose up in the air. Hermione snatched the newspaper away from her briskly and saw the photographic Dark Mark waving in the sky.

Harry too peered at it, but his face remained impassive. Wordlessly, he handed it back. He paled at little, but did not say a word until they were sitting in Snape’s Potion class, as orderly and silent as new Dewert pencils in a tin.

‘Hermione?’ he said, voice breaking slightly, ‘I think I’ll just go, OK?’ he nodded to Ron and left as Snape opened his mouth to take further points off Gryffindor for Potter’s incontrollable insubordination.

Hermione turned in her seat to watch Harry disappear down the softly lit stone corridors, but was firmly brought back to attention by a certain greasy-haired Professor.

Hermione gulped and concentrated on the slimy heart of a goat, which they were to dissect.

‘And what, Miss Granger, are we looking at here?’

His oily voice irritated her and she looked up to see him pointing to a particularly gruesome looking bit. She rolled her eyes significantly and said in a clear voice, ‘The aorta.’ This she said knowing quite well that it wasn’t and shut her eyes to the immediate out break of whispers and Snape’s shocked face.

Fools, she thought.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

‘What are you doing?’

‘Studying.’ Came a voice from behind a wall of books.

‘Surprise, surprise.’

‘Well, you asked.’ She shot back swiftly as Ron sat down next to her. He banged his book down and sent a shower of dust over both of them, and Hermione sneezed loudly and decidedly ungracefully.

‘I came to tell you something.’ He said urgently. ‘I shouldn’t, but I have to. I mean, your best friend can’t always be your – your love advisor, yeah?’

‘Yes?’ Said Hermione blankly.

Ron licked his lips nervously. ‘Man, he’s gonna kill me. Hermione, Harry l –‘

‘Anything going on behind the books?’

Hermione and Ron peered guiltily over the pile off books.

‘Hi, Harry.’ Said Hermione. ‘Ron was just saying –‘

‘- What a great day it is, right Harry?’

Harry narrowed his eyes and looked at Ron. Ron turned a interesting shade of red and examined his quill as if he was fascinated by it.

Hermione was confused by this by-play and looked between them swiftly. ‘C’mon, what’s going on?’

Harry looked at Ron. ‘Nothing, right?’

Ron swallowed. ‘Yeah. Nothing.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘Anyway, guess what.’ She said.

Harry and Ron looked at her and blinked.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Well, I found out you can make a Potion with research that could kill You-Know-Who. Like an antidote or something. Only, it’ll take a fair amount of work and I’m not sure an unqualified witch can do it.’

Harry grinned in a tired sort of way. ‘Well if any unqualified witch can do it, it’ll be you.’ He sat on the other side of Ron, hidden too by the books.

Ron made a gagging sound.

‘Harry, what is Dumbledore making you –‘ started Hermione but was interrupted by a young male voice.

‘But think about cruel that is!’ it said.

‘Cruel? Nah, mate. Funny is the word. The Most Unlikely Couple in love!’ the other giggled.

‘Will it work?’

‘Sure. I have the strand of hair, too.’

‘I’d like to see Ron’s face.’ Spoke up a girl.

‘Nah, Harry’s! He’s the one who-‘

Hermione stood up at that point, followed by Harry and Ron. They saw three small Gryffindor; two boys and one girl. Hermione smiled. She was reminded of themselves at age eleven. The girl blushed, and the three of the scampered away swiftly.

‘What do you reckon they’re trying to pull off?’ said Ron with a grin.

‘Whatever it is, let’s just take it and let them have their satisfaction.’ Said Harry.

Simple words spoken all too soon.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The giggling first year enticed a fellow classmate in Slytherin into their plan. This small Slytherin happened to dislike a certain older one by the pit of her small heart and agreed by way of receiving a much prized desk ornament.

Slipping a concealed love-heart shaped chocolate into pumpkin pie – thanks to Fred and George’s latest Weasley Wizard Wheezes branch in Hogsmeade – they sat back at their places at the lunch table.

Oblivious and silent, Malfoy took a bite of a nice piece of pumpkin pie which was his favourite. Not noticing four pair of bright eyes watching him intently, he took a bite.

Hermione was peacefully eating, sitting in her usual spot and talking animatedly to Lavender and Ginny. She was disturbed by a voice near her.

‘Hermione.’

Hermione turned to see none other than Draco Malfoy, the very King of Unkindness, holding out a bunch of roses. He smiled sheepishly and held them out.

‘Hermione.’

Hermione gave him an incredulous look and turned back to her conversation. The Gryffindors around them gave each other disgusted looks, and did the same.

‘Hermione.’ He said yet again in the same tone.

‘What?’ said Hermione, very impatiently.

‘I love you Hermione Granger.’ He said, holding the roses out.

Absolute hysteria.

Ron burst into a fit of laughter while Harry watched Malfoy suspiciously as he gave Hermione roses. Pansy burst into tears while another Slytherin consoled her. Crabbe and Goyle looked like stunned mullets, but they usually did so they was at least a little normalcy.

Hermione refused to take the flowers. It was probably a dare or something equally hideous. She didn’t take them and was astounded to see Malfoy’s lower lip trembling and his eyes cloud with tears. Hermione felt very guilty and took them from him bracing herself for the worst.

But nothing happened.

Out of the whole school, only Ron and Ginny and the four little ones knew what was going on. Ron and Ginny knew about the product, but was sworn to secrecy. One of the three little Gryffindors knew because he won a competition at WWW, where he won a sackful of tricks. He told his two best friends, and they told the one Slytherin they needed to plant it. They all were sworn to secrecy as well.

‘Leave her alone Malfoy!’ yelled Harry. ‘Save it for Pansy.’

Malfoy reared at him, ‘How dare you!’ he screeched. ‘How dare you tell me what to do! Hermione is my love, and mine only. How many chances have you had with her? You’re so far up yourself, I can’t see your damn head!’

Hermione bit her lip and looked down, embarrassed. Harry coloured a brilliant shade of red.

Hermione shot Ron a terrified look and Ginny, smiling sweetly at her, pulled her out of the hall, much to Malfoy’s dismay.

‘Ginny! What is going on?’ shrieked Hermione, tossing the flowers aside.

‘It’s – it’s – well . . . Fred and George invented then.’ She said, laughing. ‘It’s a milder version of the illegal Love Potion spell concealed in a chocolate. But it in itself is not illegal, because it is not of the same strength.’

‘The same strength?’ said Hermione. ‘It needs to be damn strong for Malfoy to fall in love with me!’

‘You poor thing, it’s made specifically for you. With a strand of hair.’ said Ginny struggling to look sympathetic; but failing. ‘You’ll have to go along with it for about a day.’

‘What!’ said Hermione in horror. ‘I can’t – I . . . what will Harry think?’

Ginny immediately sobered. ‘Harry, huh?’ a smile snaked on her face, ‘Why should you care?’

Bad move. ‘I – er – I . . . well, naturally he’d be worried because I’m his friend and –‘

‘You fell in love with him?’

‘No!’ said Hermione quickly. ‘Yes – OK, fine. Yes, all right? Are you happy?’

‘You don’t want him to – well, get depressed or start drinking himself to death because his only love hates him?’

‘Well, no, but –‘

‘And besides,’ said Ginny triumphantly. ‘A little jealousy never hurt anyone.’

And thus with words not of Cupid and not Shakespeare, Ginny left. She left leaving Hermione to gathered what scattered courage she had and walk briskly into the Transfiguration classroom. Much to her disgust, she found that she had brought the wrong books. Harry of course, immediately offered the use of his, but Hermione really felt that she could not bear to even think about looking at him without feeling exceedingly guilty.

Malfoy too tripped merrily into the classroom, looking most unlike himself, by wearing a goofy grin instead of his usual sultry smirk. Placing himself beside Hermione, he continued to stare at her as if she were a goddess in mortal clothing, occasionally scribbling down a note or two.

Professor McGonagall, being the shrewd one she was, noticed a certain absence on one side of the room, next to Crabbe and Goyle and the pained expressions of Harry and Ron’s faces. She also noticed Malfoy – between staring at Hermione – was writing furiously.

One and one and one make three.

‘Mr. Malfoy, would you kindly read your notes out to the rest of the class?’ she said crisply.

Malfoy licked his lips nervously. ‘Notes?’

‘Yes, notes. The notes you have been writing so diligently this lesson.’ She said sharply. Getting no intelligent answer, she walked over and noticed various line of love-hearts and Hermione Granger’s written over and over. She frowned at the cowering Malfoy. ‘Detention, tomorrow afternoon. And sit back in your seat, please.’

‘Idiot!’ hissed Harry.

Hermione heaved a sigh of relief. She wished Harry would stop giving her such fugitive looks. How on earth did he make his eyes so endearing, so pleading . . . so hurt? She crumpled a piece of parchment by way of venting her feelings and threw it away. And to her surprise, it floated very neatly to the bin.

‘Harry, you know it’s just a lo-‘

But Ron shook his head vigorously at her. This was after all, meant to be top secret. Hermione scowled at Ron. She suspected that he was enjoying seeing Malfoy make an idiot of himself.

Harry looked enquiringly at her.

‘A long time until the class ends.’ Amended Hermione, feeling like a prize fool. Harry gave her a half-hearted, half-smile and returned to his work.

Hermione sighed, and she too got back to work.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Harry and Ron were preparing for their Quidditch game that afternoon. Hermione loitered around the area, wanting to wish good luck. Malfoy rounded a corner.

Hermione groaned.

‘What’s that my sweet?’ he said sweetly smiling at her.

Hermione forced a smile.

‘Tonight, I will play my best. I will play, not for Slytherin – but for you. My own dear Hermione, the true love of my life. My victory is yours!’ he proclaimed.

‘Well, go ahead . . . with your victory.’ She couldn’t help but smile to herself. He was quite nice – although kind of soppy – when he was infatuated. If only his own blighted affection were cast on someone else, she could perhaps enjoy his current state of mind.

While pondering all this, she felt two lips press against hers. Still reeling from revulsion, she turned her head gently; but did not kiss him back. Not caring, or perhaps not knowing, he skipped lightly down the stairs. Hearing footsteps, she turned around and saw the locker room open and close.

She saw a raven-haired boy slipping into the room and pressed her hand to her forehead. Harry Potter saw it all.

Running to the locker room, she knocked furiously at it until Tom, a sixth year, opened it wearing only a pair of pants. Blushing brightly when he saw Hermione, he went to get Harry.

Hermione sat down on the locked chest which contained the balls used in the game and looked up when Harry approached.

She stood up hesitantly, and cleared her throat. ‘Harry.’

‘I don’t have anything to say.’ He said, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t have picked Malfoy for sure, but . . . how could you let him paw you like that, it’s –‘

‘Harry?’ she said, walking closer. She could hear him breathe a little faster, and raised her eyes to him. Secret or no secret, he had to know. And, being a prime investor, of course the twins wouldn’t mind. ‘Love spell.’ She said.

Harry’s brow furrowed. ‘For Malfoy?’ He said, confused.

‘No!’ said Hermione hurriedly. ‘Some kid must have done it as a practical joke. It’s a new product in the Weasley line.’

‘And I don’t know about it?’ said Harry cracking a smile. ‘I prided myself on knowing every product.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘Top secret. Apparently only Ginny and Ron know.’

‘Ginny? And – Ron?’ said Harry, aghast. ‘And they didn’t tell me . . . Ron . . .’ he mused to himself. ‘Must’ve been those kids we heard in the library.’

Light dawned. ‘Yeah, makes sense.’ Said Hermione.

‘I just want you to know,’ said Harry inching closer. ‘You don’t need Love spells.’ He ran a gentle hand down her face.

Hermione shivered at the light touch and put a hand on his. She hoped he meant what she wanted him to. Harry suddenly took his hand away and looked as if he were ashamed of himself. Hermione tilted her head as he coloured and kicked herself for letting herself think that maybe – just maybe –

A loud cough interrupted them, and they turned to see a silver-haired boy looking at Harry with deepest loathing.

Hermione turned back to Harry. ‘I’ll just get a seat in the stands.’ She said quietly.

Harry closed his eyes as she left, and sat on the chest with the balls. He held his head in his hands. Hermione looked at him one last time, to see him groan to himself before leaving.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

‘Whoa, would you look at Malfoy!’ said Lavender. ‘Tailing Harry, or something.’

Ginny paled considerably. Grabbing Hermione’s Omiculars, she focused in on Malfoy who was indeed behaving very oddly. ‘Oh no.’ she murmured.

‘Oh no, what?’ said Hermione sharply, but instead of an answer she saw Malfoy ram his broom into Harry, and send him plummeting to the ground. ‘Harry!’ she screamed and ran down to the ground, just and Malfoy landed neatly next to him.

‘Arrest him!’ he roared, like a lunatic. Harry inched away, but his leg or something was obviously broken. ‘He stole MY HERMIONE!’

Hermione sat down next to Harry and pointed her wand at Malfoy, ‘Stupfey!’ she yelled, as he fell just before Professor Snape as he came to the scene.

‘Enervate.’ He said crisply.

Malfoy stirred and sat up. ‘What the hell?’ he muttered.

‘You did it!’ said Ginny happily. ‘You figured out how to stop the Love Chocolates! I have to tell Fred and George, that was the only reason that they wouldn’t sell it properly, and they gave a competition to find who could figure it out an you won, I –‘

‘She won?’ squealed an angry first year, ‘It was our idea to plant the chocolate because we knew Hermione would – figure – it – o – out. . .’ he faltered under Snape’s icy face.

‘Love Chocolate?’ he said.

‘Trust a damn Weasley,’ he said, before being kicked by Ron, who was also there.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

‘Broken rib, sprained wrist and dislocated knee-cap.’ Said Harry to Hannah in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘No biggie.’

He grinned broadly at Hermione who felt herself blush. Turning quickly, she walked away, only to dash right back and kiss him soundly on the cheek. Then, wondering how she managed it, she ran up to her bedroom.

And had a well-deserved long, hot bath.

A/N: Hope you liked! REVIEW, please! Next chappie will have a little more Voldie-matters. Should be up within a next or so. Enjoy, and leave a review : )