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Chapter One: Some Enchanted Evening
Harry and Hermione were out strolling the Quidditch Pitch. It was well after curfew and, especially being the second day of classes, they should have been worried about getting caught. Their saving grace was that they were Head Boy and Girl.
It had been a strange day. Yesterday, Draco had been head boy, but a near-unanimous vote (Snape having the good grace to abstain) stripped him of the honor when he abused his privileges and took a combined 435 points from the other three houses in less than 12 hours. Breakfast that morning had come with Ron Weasley as Head Boy, fulfilling the last desire he'd seen expressed by the mirror in first year.
By lunch, he'd hexed three Slytherins into Madam Pomfrey's care and quit in disgust. "What good is the badge if I can't get any respect!" he'd railed.
Already, there'd been more head boys this year than any other year in recent history, and Harry added a first to the list: First Head Boy in Hogwarts' history to not have previously been a prefect. He took the job only because he knew it meant more time with Hermione.
Their pace around the pitch was slow; they weren't out in the crisp Autumn night for exercise. It was the first time in three months they'd had time to just be alone together.
"... And then I've got NEWT level Arithmancy, Runes and Oh! I forgot about Potions!" Hermione finished.
Harry grimaced. "I think the only class I'll have with you is Potions, since I'm out of History of Magic and you're not taking Care of Magical Creatures this year. Plus, I'm out of divination, and Dumbledore is taking over my Charms, Transfiguration, and DA studies." He frowned.
"Don't look so grumpy, Harry," Hermione practically bounced. " The Headmaster is teaching you personally!
"What else is he-" Hermione started.
Harry changed the subject. "So tell me about the new professors." He knew talking about her studies was the easiest way to distract her.
"Well, the Defense teacher is Alastor Moody again, so I guess he's beaten the curse. I assume it's still the real one. And Ancient Runes is Professor Krum. I think he's Viktor's uncle. Rather the black sheep, I've heard. Couldn't fly a broom to save his life. I can't wait to see how the real Moody will be in class..." Hermione continued on about her teachers and classes, but Harry forgot to listen.
Slowing just a little so he could be two steps behind her, the moon shone brightly right through one of the Quidditch hoops, framing Hermione in an ethereal, beautiful white glow. Her hair, still a little bushy from the recent humidity, threaded the moonlight in a way that quite simply took his breath away.
He was jolted from his reverie by Hermione's worried voice. "Harry, are you all right? It's not the scar, is it? Do I need to fetch-"
Harry stepped forward and hugged her, whispering in her ear, "I'm fine, 'Mione. I was just noticing how beautiful you are in the moonlight."
The parted slightly to see each other's faces. Slowly, seemingly of their own volition, their mouths closed the distance between them. She whispered, "Oh, Harry..."
"Oy, 'arry! Wha' yer doin' ou' 'ere so late?"
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