While You Were in a Coma

Amp P.

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 08/03/2004
Last Updated: 01/09/2005
Status: paused

At the beginning of fifth year at Hogwarts Ron and Hermione start dating. Harry says he is okay with it, but then why does he flinch everytime Hermione and Ron are close? And what about Hermione's odd behavior towards her boyfriend? Then something occurs to Ron, leaving Harry to deal with a stricken Hermione. Emotions are revealed between the two of them. What will happen? COMPLETELY H/Hr

Chapters

1. The Worst Summer

2. Annual Shopping

3. A Long Way to Hogwarts

4. The First Day Prediction

5. Awakenings

6. Not your usual visit to Hogsmeade

7. What Happened?

8. The Next Morning

9. A night in the common room

10. It's Time to Dance

11. The Rules

12. The Masquerade

1. The Worst Summer

While you were in a coma

<Chapter One>

<The Worst Summer>

As the first rays of sunlight posed themselves upon his sleepy face, his eyelids fluttered slightly, refusing to wake up.

This, if possible, has been one of the worst summers he had ever experienced. Of course living with the Dursleys had provided many horrifying summers and lets face it, horrifying winters, springs and falls. Every one of the seasons with the Dursleys was a pain. But this time it was something completely different. This was because spending the summer with the Weasleys was usually very enjoyable. Now however it was becoming a nightmare.

It started out like any one of the summers with the Weasley family. Mr. Weasley and his three red-haired sons barged into the Dursley's blocked fireplace to come and pick him up. It had been normal the firsts few weeks; being pampered by Mrs. Weasley, continuously talking with Mr. Weasley about his Muggle anecdotes, making Harry tell about new artifacts with excruciating detail. There have been countless laughs with George and Fred, as Harry watched them test their new inventions on Ginny. And of course, there was his favorite pass time, playing Quidditch with all of the Weasley brothers. Yes, they were a great few weeks. It wasn't long before he learned that his other best friend, Hermione Granger, the cleverest witch in all of Hogwarts, was going to be spending the rest of the summer holiday with them. He thought that this summer couldn't be better, but he didn't realize how mistaken he was.

As soon as Hermione set foot in The Burrow, everything changed, especially Ron. Harry could observe the change in the way Ron looked at Hermione, when he first saw her. And Harry also had to accept, she looked quite different - she looked quite cute. It appeared that Hermione had learned to accept her wavy hair, and now sported her hair in thick ringlets, falling carelessly down her shoulders that marked her face. Her body was maturing and filling out in the right places, and the features of her face where softening. She also looked taller. The point was, there was a distinct change in her, and it was obvious that Ron noticed this.

Since the incident last year at the Yule Ball, Harry had a suspicion that Ron fancied Hermione, but he never knew just how much. Ron seemed to ignore Harry completely, while flirting clumsily with Hermione and the worst part was that she seemed to like it. Hermione liked the way Ron stumbled with his own feet while trying to sit down next to her on the dinner table, or the way he mumbled compliments at her and even the shocking red color his ears turned when he would pass close to her.

It reached an all time low when Hermione gave into Ron's attempts and they started "going out". They would go out for a walk completely forgetting about Harry, and with the twins locked up in their room, he was forced to spend the duration of the day with Ginny, who would sometimes pass several lapses of time just staring at him.

But Harry didn't understand why he felt so uncomfortable with this newfound relationship between his two best friends. It irked him to feel so irritated at them. He was getting tired of hearing Ron's recalling of their dates. And he hated it when Ron gave annoyingly precise details of how he had tried to kiss Hermione. He disliked the feeling that possessed him when even though Ron would do something stupid, Hermione would offer him a charming white smile. And he didn't like it one bit when Ron managed to take Hermione's hand and Harry would flinched, like when other wizards heard Voldemort's name. He started to feel very guilty and dismissed all of these emotions as resentment because of how Ron and Hermione seemed to ignore him.

Harry lay still in his bed, looking up at the ceiling and thinking about the past two weeks. Today was the day they where going to head up to Diagon Alley, for their annual shopping before school. He heard Ron shuffling as he went out of the room, presumably to the bathroom to take a shower, and he lay silent in his bed, thinking intently. He didn't comprehend why these unfriendly emotions where occupying his head, but he was going to make them stop. He was going to start showing support for Ron, Hermione and their new relationship. Harry gave a small shudder when he thought of the word 'relationship'. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting like such a jerk? Ron and Hermione were his best friends. They were some of the few people that really cared for him. And he wasn't going to do anything that could come between their friendships.

"Morning Harry!" spoke the feminine voice of Hermione, pocking her head to their bedroom.

"Morning Hermione," Harry responded with a small smile.

"Are you ready to go down for breakfast; Mrs. Weasley already shouted that it was ready," she said stepping inside, after seeing that Harry was decent. He was in pajamas but she didn't care, that was still decent.

"Sure, just let me get ready," he said nonchalantly, as he went to closet to grab some clean clothes.

"Umm, Harry? Can I ask you a question?" asked Hermione, as she sat lightly on his bed.

"You already have," he said turning to her with a smirk. Hermione made one of her trademark 'annoyed face', and Harry let out a laugh, "Kidding. Go ahead, ask away."

"Well...I know that this might seem strange to you...you know...Ron and me," she started slowly.

"I don't find it strange," Harry stated - impressed by how convincing his voice sounded.

Hermione was surprised, but continued, "Well...umm...the thing is...I wanted to know if..."

"Hi, 'Mione, what are you doing here so early?" Ron interrupted, stepping into the room, water droplets still clinging to his hair. Then he made his way to Hermione, trying to give her a peck on the top of her head, but Hermione moved her head up in that same instant and came in contact with his chin.

"Oww!" Ron and Hermione proclaimed together, one grabbing her head, and the other his chin, "Ron, you need to learn to plan your kis...movements," she said blushing as she headed to the door, "I'll see you at the dinner table," and with that she left, still rubbing her skull.

"She's right you know. Haven't been able to give her a proper kiss all week," Ron confessed to Harry as he left to take a bath.

"Hmm..." answered Harry just about to open the door, then he remembered his resolution and turned around, "Don't be so nervous, just wait for the right moment, it will come, when you look in her eyes you will know, and just try to be a little more gentle," advised Harry with a small smile.

Ron smiled back, and seemed filled with new determination, "Thanks mate."

"Yeah...you're welcome," Harry said before closing the door and heading to the bathroom. This was going to be a bit more difficult than Harry had planned.

To Be Continued.

OK. That was it, maybe it was a little slow, but it is just an introduction chapter. So what do you think?? How am I doing?? Come on and Review. Please, please, please. Give me a little pointers of tell me if you like it so far. So please REVIEW!!! Until next chapter
Au revoir.

2. Annual Shopping

While you were in a comma

<Chapter Two>

<Annual Shopping>

There was a smile on Harry's face; he was enjoying his lively conversation with Hermione, the first since she'd arrived at The Burrow. However, this was only because Mrs. Weasley had taken Ron and his siblings to a second-hand store to buy their dress robes for the coming year, while Harry and Hermione went to a pricier one.

"Why are they making us take dress robes again?" asked Harry as he glanced at the robes in the male section.

"I have no idea. You don't think they're planning another Triwizard tournament, do you?" she asked carefully, tearing her gaze from the multi-coloured robes on display and turning to face Harry.

His face went rigid as he recalled the horrible turn of events from the previous tournament, "No," he simply stated, "Every four years remember," he added rather dryly.

Hermione, noticing how dark and cloudy his eyes became, regretted asking such a question and decided to change the subject. "I think this year I'll buy a different coloured robe," she mused loudly, eyeing another powder blue robe. "I'm not quite sure if blue suited me last time," she said with a smile, thinking about her ridiculous change of subject. What would Harry know or say about fashion?

"What are you talking about? You looked pretty," Harry said unconsciously, picking up a dark, forest-green robe from a nearby rack and examining it carefully.

Hermione stopped what she was doing and turned to Harry, "Really?"

Harry turned to Hermione, realizing a moment too late that he'd spoken out loud. "Huh?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"You really think I looked...pretty?" asked Hermione, timidly.

Was it just his imagination, or were his cheeks growing incredibly warm under Hermione's questioning gaze? Oh, God, why had he said that? Why did he even think about it? He cleared his throat loudly and turned his attention back to his previously chosen robe, "Sure...I mean, I wasn't the one who noticed...of course... that was the moment Ron started to see you in another light."

"Yeah...I think that was the day I also started to like Ron...in a different way...it felt kind of nice to be noticed...as a girl I mean." Hermione said, her voice barely audible in certain parts of her statement, and then a certain robe caught her attention.

"Hermione, what do you mean, to be noticed?" Harry asked, perplexed; he'd just fully understood that part of what she had said. "We always took notice of you," he replied, searching for her eyes, which were still concentrated on the robe in her hand. "I always took notice of you..." he added softly.

Hermione lifted her gaze to meet Harry's and she smiled.

"...Seen anything as revolting as...that thing," Ron's voice boomed from the front door as he came in, apparently arguing with his mother, who was waving her hand dismissively from the window and walking away. His brothers Fred and George followed, with Ginny bringing up the rear.

While Hermione went to greet Ron, Harry chose to go pay for the robe he'd selected. After Hermione finished paying for the robes she'd picked out, they all decided to continue shopping for their school supplies together. As they were going to start their way, Ron stabbed Harry's arm and gave him a wink. Harry didn't understand what Ron wanted until he started talking, "I have a better idea, why don't we divide into teams of two? And divide the shopping, also? That way, we can finish much faster and head over to the Leaky Cauldron to have something to drink."

"Partners? I don't know Ron; won't it be more difficult having to divide all our money?" Hermione replied, arguing in her superior tone.

Ron slammed his foot at Harry's, his eyes requesting for some type of support. Harry wasn't fully convinced, but he relented. "Come on, Hermione, I, for one, would really like to finish this early," he said, trying to sound convincing.

Hermione remained silent for a few seconds before giving up, "Oh, ok! I was just saying that it's going to be more difficult this way."

"We know that you know best, but come on, just for a while," Ron begged, coming near her and casually securing his arm around her shoulders. She gave him an "annoyed Hermione" face before her face softened into a smile.

There it was again. That familiar flinch; spreading all the way through his body, right to the tips of his toes. Harry ignored it. They divided their money and their tasks and agreed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron once they finished.

"Well, Fred, you lucked out, you got the best partner of the group," George joked, turning to face his twin.

"Yeah? I always get the same partner," Fred muttered sarcastically as he led the way, but turned back to George before stepping through the door. "Shall we?" he said brightly, extending his arm to George.

"How chivalrous!" George sing-songed in an exaggerated tone. He looped his arm through his twin's and they set off together, heading for the Apothecary.

"Harry...I think that leaves you and me..." Harry barely heard Ginny's tiny voice.

"Oh! Uh, sure...let's go then. They left us the worst job, we've got to go and get our books," he said shortly, heading towards Flourish and Blotts. An extremely giddy Ginny tailed behind him.

An hour later when they were finished, Harry and Ginny arrived at the same time as Fred and George. Ron and Hermione were already seated at a nearby table, laughing and talking animatedly, drinking cans of warm, frothy butterbeer.

"Harry, are you sure you don't need some help with those?" asked Ginny for the third time.

Harry was single-handedly carrying all of the books in two bulging bags. "I told you...I'm okay...don't worry," he grunted under the weight of the books.

Finally he set the books on the table, and plopped onto a seat. "We finished all our shopping at record time. Told you it was a good idea!" Ron exclaimed proudly, his arm resting casually on the back of Hermione's chair.

Harry looked at Ron sourly, "Sure, they went to buy parchment, quills, and ink. Let's see him carry all of the books," he thought snidely.

"Well I don't know," interrupted Hermione, wiping her mouth with a napkin, "I wanted so much to go to Flourish and Blotts to see what new books they have in stock," she said, her voice gloomy.

"Hermione, don't you have enough books already?!" exclaimed Ron in his usual 'bother-Hermione' tone.

"You can never have enough books!" she exclaimed indignantly. Ron rolled his eyes in response.

"Oh! That reminds me!" Harry exclaimed all of the sudden, rummaging through the bags of books. "Here Hermione, I saw this in Flourish and Blotts and I thought you would like it," Harry said as he slid a very heavy book towards Hermione.

"Wow, Harry! I can't believe it! You shouldn't have!" she exclaimed excitedly, running her hand down the cover of the book, her face shining with pleasure. Ron peered over her shoulder, reading the title.

"Harry, you dolt! She already has that book. Don't you remember her constantly quoting Hogwarts, a History?" Ron said to Harry, receiving a rather painful stab in the ribs from Hermione.

"You idiot! This is the new edition, complete with more information from recent years and additional photographs. I wanted to buy this book all summer! Thank you so much Harry, this is very nice of you," she said, flashing him a huge, sparkling-white smile.

Harry just shrugged his shoulders, ignoring the now familiar warmth that spread across his cheeks. What was happening? Was he coming down with a fever? "It was nothing, really."

"Yeah, well, we better get a move on. Mum and Dad won't be long to come and get us," Ron said, standing up and helping Hermione with her chair.

They all went outside just as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley apparated outside the Leaky Cauldron. "Well, how was the shopping, kids?" asked Mr. Weasley.

They all started talking animatedly about their buys; the girls and Mrs. Weasley giggling about the dress robes the girls bought. Mr. Weasley made sure the twins hadn't spent all of their money in the Apothecary, buying ingredients for their inventions. It was during a normal conversation with the Weasleys, when Harry felt a sudden, ice-cold breeze around his neck. He shuddered slightly, wondering about this phenomenon. He looked around him, searching for anything abnormal in his surroundings, but found nothing.

"Harry is everything alright?" asked Hermione, noticing the far away look Harry's eyes had taken.

"Yes, don't worry," he said to her, flashing her a comforting smile. She smiled back. However, the feeling Harry had just experienced was far from comforting; he just hoped nothing would go wrong this year...

To Be Continued…

Well that was chapter two. How was it? Not many action between Harry and Hermione maybe, but don't worry, just be patient. Please, REVIEW, give me your opinions, should I continue??? REVIEW!!! People REVIEW. And thanks again for the ones who already reviewed. Next chapter coming soon. Until then. Au revoir

3. A Long Way to Hogwarts

While you were in a coma

<Chapter Three>

<A Long Way to Hogwarts>

"Come on, Ron! Hurry up!" Mrs. Weasley called to Ron, who was still standing inside King's Cross Station, just a few meters away from the secret entrance to Platform nine and three-quarters.

"Mum, I'm coming! I lost Hermione!" Ron screamed back to his mother, straining to be heard over the masses. He was glancing frantically in all directions of the station, trying in vain to locate Hermione. How hard could it be to find a girl hauling a big trunk with a horrible tawny cat on top?

"Oh, don't worry dear, she'll be ok. She's probably with Harry," Mrs. Weasley consoled, as they were the only two missing from her little group of 'children'.

"Oh, well, that really makes me feel better," Ron muttered sarcastically, heading back to his mother. He swallowed hard; he couldn't help the intense pang of envy. He was kind of hurt when Harry had bought Hermione that book. Harry should've known that Ron couldn't get her something like that in a million years. And then there was Hermione; she'd seemed so happy, her face had practically glowed when she'd seen the book. Ron could never buy her that book, or in fact, any of the pricey gifts she doubtlessly deserved.

"Oh come on dear, don't be silly," Mrs. Weasley soothed, pulling Ron into her embrace. "They can't be that far, they were just behind us. Probably got separated because of all these people," she pushed Ron gently through the magical entrance and followed suit.

"Stupid cat! For such stubby legs, he sure runs fast," Harry panted, slightly out of breath. He stumbled towards Hermione, his arms encircling an agitated Crookshanks. Somehow the cat had managed to open the door to his basket and chase after an unsuspecting mouse. Although Hermione had called him over and practically screamed herself hoarse, he'd continued to hunt his prey. For about fifteen minutes, the travelers that expertly weaved their way through King's Cross could see a pair of fifteen year olds wildly chasing a determined ginger cat.

"Oh, thank God that you found him!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing towards Harry, breathing heavily, "I was beginning to think that I was going to miss the Hogwarts Express, and that you and Ron would have to send someone to pick me up," she said, taking the spitting ginger cat from Harry.

"You mean Ron would have to send someone because-" Harry started to talk as he began brushing off golden-brown cat hairs from his t-shirt.

"Oh, why, thank you Harry, for implying that you wouldn't mind having me stranded here in Muggle London...all alone, at that" Hermione interrupted icily, mock-glaring at Harry.

"What I meant, if you hadn't interrupted me, was that Ron would be the one to inform the teachers at Hogwarts of the situation, because I didn't plan on leaving you alone," Harry finished, heading to the spot where they'd left their trolleys.

Hermione's gaze lingered on Harry's fleeting figure for just a minute before turning to Crookshanks to try to soothe the keyed up cat. When Harry returned with both their carts, Hermione secured Crookshanks in his basket and they headed to the entrance of Platform nine and three-quarters. They stopped right in front of the familiar wall between Platforms nine and ten, trying to look unsuspicious while waiting for exactly the perfect moment to enter through the concealed gate. "Oh Harry before I forget-" Hermione spoke suddenly, while Harry served as their sentinel, keeping an eye out for Muggles rushing about.

"What?" he asked, absentmindedly looking to see if any Muggles were watching them. That feeling he'd had that day in Diagon Alley, that sudden, mysterious burst of cold dread was still strong within him. He wasn't able to shake that ominous feeling of uncertainty. However, all coherent thought fled as he felt Hermione's soft, moist lips lightly touch his cheek. Harry felt his temperature rise to an all-time high, and knew his face was flaming. He whipped his face around to meet Hermione's, unsure of what to make of the kiss, "What? What...what was...?" he could barely string two words together. What the heck was wrong with him? The only time got tongue-tied was when...

Hermione interrupted his thoughts, "I forgot to thank you properly for the book you bought me, and take it as a thank you for your help with Crookshanks as well."

Harry stared blankly at a smiling Hermione. And with that Hermione made her way in, a dumbstruck Harry following her. As soon as they went through the magical wall of bricks they were faced with the all-to-familiar sight of bustling witches and wizards. Students talking amongst them, parents saying their goodbyes, the sound of the trunks being heaved onto the trains. A familiar patch of scarlet hair could be seen running directly towards them.

"Hermione, what happened? I thought you two were in trouble!" exclaimed Ron, his cheeks flushed as he put his hands on either one of Hermione's shoulders.

"Oh, Ron! Nothing happened, it's just that Crookshanks somehow got loose and ran all over the station. Thankfully, Harry caught him before too long," Hermione explained, placing a grateful hand on Harry's arm to emphasize her gratification.

Ron's gaze shifted towards Harry, who was wishing his face had returned to its natural colour. But apparently it hadn't. "Why do you look so flushed?" asked Ron, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

"Well I was the one who ran after the damn cat, wasn't I?" responded Harry defensively.

Ron didn't say a word but wrapped his arm around Hermione and gently guided her towards the train. After saying goodbye to the Weasley parents, they headed inside their usual compartment.

Again Harry felt left out. This was a strange feeling indeed. Even though Harry was included in the conversation with Ron and Hermione, he felt excluded from the new stage his friends were entering. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, who were currently deeply involved in a personal conversation; this Harry could tell from the way they sitting and talking animatedly in hushed tones. Harry preferred to ignore the intense feeling of lonesomeness and think about other important things. It had been a while since he'd written to his godfather, Sirius; that was the first thing he planned on doing as soon as he arrived at Hogwarts. Harry wanted desperately to know if Sirius was anywhere near him, but of course he knew that Sirius couldn't share that information, for fear of the owl being intercepted. Harry would simply ask how he was doing and if he was taking care of Buckbeak. Secondly, he'd ask Dumbledore for the update on Voldemort. He also wanted to discuss with Dumbledore the strange, cold sensation he had during his visit to Diagon Alley...his visit to Diagon Alley where he bought Hermione that book she really liked...and that earned him that incredible pearly-white smile...and of course who could forget the kiss...

"Damn!!!" Harry chastised himself mentally. There it was again. Why was it that lately, well for months now to be truthful, all of this thoughts drifted off to thought of Hermione?

Unconsciously Harry touched the spot on his cheek where Hermione had pressed her lips minutes before. His sensitive skin still tingled from that short but sweet contact from her lips. To his mind came a memory of a conversation between Ron and him during that very summer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ron...how do you even know you like Hermione as more than a friend?" Harry asked, bemused, after Ron had first told him about his new feelings towards their best friend.

"Oh that's easy..." Ron said cheerfully, purposely making time before actually answering, "She makes me feel."

"Makes you feel what?" asked Harry, confused.

"Everything," Ron breathed.

Harry arched an eyebrow at his friend's simple statement, "Oh, well, now I understand," he said sarcastically, after realizing that nothing was going to follow.

"You will. When you find that special girl, you will understand," Ron answered wisely, before returning to what he was doing. Harry just stared at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry snapped out of his reverie as the witch with the snack trolley arrived. When all of their stomachs growled audibly at the same time, they laughed as Harry bought loads of sweets for them to share. As they munched on sugar packed treats, the three friends started a cheerful conversation on the long way to Hogwarts.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Well that is the end of chapter three, it was a bit short but I hope you enjoyed it. Please people, review!!! PLEASE, it's what I live. So more action to come on the next chapters, don't despair romance also coming. So until next chapter.

4. The First Day Prediction

While you were in a coma

<Chapter Four>

<The first day prediction>

As soon as Harry heard Hagrid's booming voice calling the first years towards him, he knew he had arrived at the Hogsmead Station.

The three of them were talking as they made their way amongst the throng of students clad in black robes, greeting familiar faces, and grinning at the all-too-familiar scenes along the way. Amazing how Neville manages to lose something every single year, Harry thought with a smile as his gaze fell upon Neville, who was frantically searching for this year's lost possession.

The trio was heading towards the horseless carriages. Harry was sporting an enormous smile. Everything was turning out very well. His stomach was filled with delicious sweets from the trolley on the train, and fortunately, they hadn't encountered any "unpleasant" people on the train. Quite the contrary, actually, as only a few minutes into their journey they'd been joined by the twins and Ginny, who, combined, were hilarious company. The entire train trip had been filled with laughter and fun, special courtesy of the twins, of course.

Harry was elated. Within a few minutes he was going to be back at Hogwarts, the only place that he felt at home. The thought of eating a wonderful, delicious feast and enjoying it with all of his friends brought a smile to his lips. And currently, he was walking between Ron and Hermione, as he'd done millions of times before, happily listening to Ron ranting about this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. It was all so blissfully perfect. But his tiny bubble of happiness was violently burst just as Ron started muttering something incoherently and turning extremely red. This could only mean one thing, and, for some reason, Harry didn't want any of it to happen.

"Ron, what are you mumbling?" Hermione snapped, after five minutes of trying to understand him.

"Well...I was just suggesting that we get in a carriage together," Ron sputtered at last.

"Don't be stupid, Ron. We always go in a carriage together, you don't have to ask," she replied exasperatedly, making her way to an empty carriage. She was about to step in, but in a quick, swift move, Ron grabbed her arm, and stopped her from getting in.

"No! I meant US get a carriage together, you and me," Ron's ears went scarlet when he saw Hermione's confused glare. "You know...ALONE..." he spoke slowly, as if speaking to a small child so she would understand.

There it was again. That feeling: it was like a brick hitting him straight in his face, Harry realized, as he saw the exchange of glances between his friends. "Ohhh..." Hermione spoke, finally understanding Ron's proposal and immediately swiveling to look at Harry. "Oh Ron, we can't just do that and leave Harry all alone-" Hermione began, her eyes never leaving Harry.

Pity. It was the last thing he liked receiving, and it was a thousand times worse, coming from Hermione. Was this how all the coming school years were going to be like? Always having to escape somewhere else, just so that Ron and Hermione could be alone? Always being the misfit third wheel? Something else was bothering him, too, something that had to do with the idea of Ron alone in a small, enclosed space with Hermione, where nobody could see them...he immediately shivered, not wanting to even think about that.

"...we always ride together to Hogwarts, it's like a tradition-" Hermione was saying. During all of Harry's inner turmoil, he had missed Hermione's speech of why Ron's idea was impossible.

"It's quite alright," Harry broke in. The last thing he wanted was to stand with them, just watching Ron clutching Hermione's hand possessively in his. And besides, he didn't want to hear more of her 'pity arguments'.

Hermione stepped back down from the step she was on, surprised at Harry's words. "Are you sure?" she asked in a voice low, her eyes searching his.

"Yeah...I mean why would I mind, anyway?" he answered, in what he desperately hoped was a convincing, nonchalant tone, looking everywhere except her eyes. For some reason, he felt if he looked straight into her eyes, he would say something completely wrong.

"Yes...of course, why would you," Hermione repeated curtly in a strange voice, noticing the lack of eye contact. "Well...come on then," she said shortly to Ron, before stepping into the carriage.

Ron hit Harry's arm lightly. "Thanks mate...well, wish me luck," Ron whispered, before turning to follow Hermione.

"Luck?" Harry repeated, not quite sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Yes...let's see if your previous advice works...see you at Hogwarts," he replied, and, with a huge jump, he got into the carriage and waved before it started moving.

"Ron, wait! What are you going to do?" Harry shouted, desperately hoping to get an answer.

Why do I care? Let them do whatever they want, thought Harry, as he walked around, looking for Fred and George or another friendly face to share the journey with. He started to make his way a few steps ahead where he'd spotted a patch of flaming red hair. When he got to the place, however, he found it was only Ginny, and not the twins. "Hey Ginny, have you seen Fred and George?" Harry asked.

Ginny turned to him and, as always, her eyes dropped to her feet before she replied, "They already got into a carriage with Lee."

"Oh," Harry sighed.

Ginny watched him for a while, and her face turned bright red as she began to speak. "You could...you could come in a carriage with me if want," Ginny suggested, lightly twirling a piece of her robe around her finger. "I saw Ron and Hermione leave...and if you're alone...well, you know...you could come...with me."

Harry looked around searching for another friendly face: Dean or Seamus... anybody. But no such luck; the station was emptying and nobody he knew was left. "Ok, sure," he said, rather unenthusiastically.

"Hello Harry!!" A perky voice called out just as Harry was helping Ginny into the carriage.

"Uh, hi, Colin," the still-tiny figure of Colin Creevey, with his mousy blonde hair, stood in front of him.

"Hey, Harry, you don't mind if my brother and I ride in the same carriage as you, do you?" Colin asked excitedly, his face shining with excitement. Harry groaned inwardly. Ginny, having heard Colin's request, stuck her head out, her eyes shooting daggers at the boy.

Harry was having trouble deciding what could possibly be worse. It was either spending the entire ride answering endless questions from the Creevey brothers or sitting there, completely uncomfortable, with Ginny gawking at him, like she had the whole summer, "Sure Colin, get in," he managed with a small smile as he let the Creevey brothers get in first.

"Hello Ginny," Colin greeted with a smile, settling comfortably beside her. Harry struggled to suppress laughter at the face Ginny was making. Well, at least it won't be boring! Harry thought just as the carriage started its way.

***

The first day of classes finally came, and Hermione couldn't possibly be more excited. As always, she had started to read this year's textbooks in advance. Ron was a little annoyed that she had preferred to walk to the Great Hall for breakfast with several books in her hand rather than linked with his.

"This year's Transfiguration class looks extremely interesting," Hermione stated as she took her seat at the Gryffindor table.

"Which translates into: this year's Transfiguration class will be utterly difficult and accompanied with tons of homework," Ron said as he took the seat next to her.

Harry smiled as he sat in front of them, "Thank God, food!!" Ron exclaimed, grabbing the spoon and starting to pile his plate with fried eggs and several sausages that stuck out in odd angles. Immediately he attacked.

Hermione shot a disgusted look at Ron, who, being so immersed in eating, didn't even notice, "Honestly Ron, how can you devour such large amounts of food, all at once?!"

"Hey! I'm a growing boy. I have to eat well," Ron defended himself before sticking two sausages in his mouth at the same time.

"Great plan Ron, just as long as you're careful to which way you grow," Harry said as Hermione extended her hand to serve the small amount of eggs that Ron had left. Harry beat her to the platter. He took a spoon- full of fried eggs and placed them on Hermione's plate before starting on his own. "Want sausage?" Harry asked Hermione, after fighting briefly with Ron for the platter.

"There is only one left, you better take it," Hermione said, shooting an annoyed glance at Ron, "Honestly, there were more than fifteen sausages in that plate," she muttered.

"No that's ok, you take it." Harry gently slid the sausage onto Hermione's plate.

"But you love sausage, you take it. I'll have some bacon," Hermione answered, taking the sausage and placing it on Harry's plate.

"Hermione, I know you prefer sausage to bacon. You take it," Harry argued as he put the sausage onto Hermione's plate once again.

"But you..."

"OH FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, IT JUST A BLOODY SAUSAGE!! IF NEITHER ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO EAT IT, THEN GIVE IT TO ME!!!!" Ron shouted, annoyed at the little exchange between Harry and Hermione.

"It's your stupid fault that we're even having this discussion! If you had shared like a normal friend, we'd all have some sausages!" Hermione argued, as she grabbed her fork and cut the sausage in half, passing a half to Harry.

After the little 'discussion' at breakfast, Ron apologized to Hermione, and promised he would never eat that much again. But somehow Harry knew that Ron had just said that to make Hermione forgive him, and that he didn't plan on keeping that promise.

Herbology had been their first class, and, like the previous years, they shared it with the Hufflepuffs, "Thank God for small blessings," Ron put in, as he preferred the friendly Hufflepuffs a million times more than the horrible Slytherins.

On their way to the dungeons for Potions class, Ron begged Hermione to let him take her hand. "I just don't think it's a good idea, Ron," Hermione said firmly, quickening her pace.

"Why not? After all, we are boyfriend and girlfriend," Ron argued vehemently as he took her hand.

Harry didn't have a choice but to look to the side. He just couldn't make himself look at this kind of interaction between his friends.

"Oh my God! If this isn't the most disgusting sight I have ever laid eyes on," a familiar, drawling voice pierced Ron and Hermione's conversation. Harry whipped his face towards owner, sick with anticipation. "I can't believe it! Weasel and the Mudblood?" Draco crowed snidely, walking slowly towards them, with his goons Crabbe and Goyle trailing after him, sniggering stupidly.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron warned, dropping Hermione's hand, and turning to face Malfoy.

"I suppose you are made for each other. I mean who would want to date a poor bastard like you, Weasel?" Draco continued, completely ignoring Ron's menacing gaze. "Only a dirty little Mud-"

This time Harry interrupted. "You better shut up Malfoy, I'm in no mood to take your idiotic banter," he said coldly, staring Draco down.

Draco flinched, but tried to not let on. "And why are you so angry, Potter? Don't tell me you also wanted a part of the little bitc-"

Harry advanced before Ron could even blink, grabbing Malfoy by the collar. "Don't you even dare finish that sentence or I swear-" Harry roared, Draco fighting to rip his hands off of his collar.

"You swear what, Potter?" the cold voice of professor Snape interrupted; the three of them turned around to find him walking towards them. "Will you kindly unhand Mr. Malfoy?" he asked coolly as he stood beside Harry, "First day of class, and you have already earned the first ten points off from Gryffindor for this beastly behaviour," he smirked slightly, as he put a hand on Draco's shoulders and led him into the classroom.

Harry and his friends didn't bother to say anything, knowing very well that it wouldn't do any good, "Come along now, or ten more points will be taken off for being late to class," the dull, content voice of Snape called through the door, making Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly enter the classroom.

After another terrible Potions class, the trio separated. As usual, Snape had picked on Neville, taken another five points from Gryffindor because Seamus had sneezed when Neville's potion started wheezing orange smoke. Also, Snape was finding vicious ways of remarking that Ron and Hermione were Hogwart's newest star couple.

Hermione ran to her Arithmancy class and Harry and Ron dragged their feet towards the highly unanticipated Divination, not really wanting to end the day with the equally terrible class. Harry and Ron were in such a bad mood that they didn't make fun of anything that professor Trelawney said to the class or about the new methods they were engaging in this semester for their predictions. Unfortunately, professor Trelawney had taken their serious attitude as newfound gain of respect for her class and had paid extra attention to the pair.

Finally the class ended, the classroom had emptied out pretty rapidly except for Ron and Harry who were still grabbing their bags, ready to leave, when professor Trelawney spoke to them. "Wait. I can feel something cold engulfing your beings," she began in a cool monotonous tone. Ron groaned, as if he'd been expecting this, but Harry remained silent. Professor Trelawney was in the same kind of weird trance, similar to when she warned him about Wormtail and Voldemort. "A person from the past is returning to pay back his debt. Where three were standing, only two will remain, and in darkness you will stay."

Ron rolled his eyes and turned to leave. Harry was waiting, wanting to know if there was more to come, but that was evidently the end of it. Professor Trelawney seemed to wake up and snap back to her usual airy self and didn't remember anything. Harry was worried; another strange prediction, and the worst part is that he wasn't sure is the professor had been looking at him when she was speaking...or at Ron.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note: Hello portkey audience!!!! This is my first author’s note directed specially for you who read here at PK!! The first three chapters were realized simultaneously to see the reaction my fic would get from the specialized Harry/Hermione fans that travel through the portkey. I am very thankful for those of you who reviewed. Even with just a happy face! Even so I would really like to know what you really think about the fic, and these beginning chapters, for I was thinking of editing them. Hope to see feedback from you, AND THANKS FOR READING!!!

5. Awakenings

While you were in a coma

<Chapter Five>

<Awakenings>

"Oh, Hermione, are you still on that?" asked Ron for the fifth time that day, as he continued to munch on his piece of pie.

It was barely two days after professor Trelawney had spoken her prediction; and, after careful thinking, Ron and Harry decided to tell Hermione what she had said to them. Ron was sure Hermione would just dismiss it like she always did, as she did all things related to their Divinations teacher. However, it appeared that his assumption was wrong; she had taken it quite seriously and started worrying about what it all meant.

"Of course I'm still thinking about it!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly, glaring at him. "And frankly, I don't understand why you aren't!" she huffed.

"I tend not to listen to crackpot theories," Ron replied, grabbing another slice, "Besides, you never believed her before, why start now?"

"This could be important. What if something happens to Ha-.... to us?" Hermione defended quickly, desperately hoping her boyfriend (or Harry, for that matter) hadn't caught what she had almost said.

Ron looked up, eyeing her for a second. "Nothing will happen; you don't have to worry about us," Ron answered slowly, in a strange, almost angry tone.

Harry was only half-listening to their conversation. He appeared to be gazing at his plate, but his mind was elsewhere. Where three were standing, only two will remain. The ghost of professor Trelawney's cold voice still echoed repeatedly through his mind ever since she'd spoken those words. What did it all mean? Was Voldemort going to attack already? Where three were standing. Did this involve Ron, Hermione and him? Since first year, where their wild adventures had begun, the three of them had always been together in the battles. ...only two will... Those tree words rang through Harry's mind relentlessly. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Would something happen to Ron? Or Herm? Harry stabbed his fork at his uneaten pie with great force.

Hermione and Ron ended their glaring competition at this sudden movement from Harry, and they both turned to face him. Hermione was heart-broken; since third year, when professor Trelawney had correctly predicted the return of You- Know-Who, she'd admitted that the old bat indeed had some amount of power to see into the future. This was the reason why, ever since Harry and Ron had shared the piece of disturbing information with her, she hadn't been able to think of anything else. As she was carefully observed Harry's tense profile, her anxiety grew within her. What professor Trelawney had said...it couldn't be. It just couldn't be true. What if something happened to Ron? Or Harry? What would the world possibly do without Harry Potter...what would she...?

Hermione's gaze lowered to Harry's hand. He was still holding the fork with such strength that his knuckles were turning white. Hermione felt frustrated; she didn't like this, not being able to do something to at least alleviate a bit of his tension. Her eyes still fixed upon his hand, she slowly began to move her hand towards Harry's. Maybe if he knew that she would be there with him, if he felt her support...

"SO!" Ron exclaimed, loudly and unexpectedly; it broke Hermione's concentration and her resolve. Harry started, snapping out of his reverie at Ron's voice. He turned to him, but suddenly noticed Hermione's outstretched hand near his. He turned to her, silently wondering what she had meant to do, and was about to ask her, but she'd already pulled away; so rapidly, in fact, that she knocked over her goblet of pumpkin juice. "Does anyone know why we haven't had Defence Against the Dark Arts yet?" asked Ron, speaking loudly and forcefully.

"They're saying that the new teacher hasn't arrived yet..." Harry replied, but not quite able to tear his eyes away from Hermione, who was keeping herself purposefully busy, frantically wiping up the spilt juice with some napkins.

"Harry!" Ron almost screamed, attempting to grab his friend's attention. When Harry finally turned to face him, he looked so tired and worried that Ron swallowed back what he'd intended to say. "Are you ok?" he asked instead, genuinely concerned for his friend.

"It's just that I hate having this feeling of complete helplessness," Harry confessed, slamming his hands on the table to emphasize his point, "I want to do something...to fight back...to not give in...." Harry trailed, struggling to express his mixed feelings.

Hermione stopped cleaning her mess, and for the first time since she'd heard the news, she felt confident she could help, "There are many things we can do!" she exclaimed energetically, "You know that the best way to be prepared is to get informed. The best thing we could do now is head to the library and start investigating on anything and everything! A spell, a charm or maybe a potion we can use to protect ourselves!" Hermione beamed, her confidence returning with each word. She tugged at Harry's wrists persistently.

Harry laughed shortly at Hermione's attitude. Of course her answer to a problem would be the library; nevertheless, he allowed himself be pulled up by her, "But...but... Hermione!" Ron interrupted again, carefully scrutinizing Hermione yanking at Harry's wrists.

"What?" she asked innocently, one arm clutching her bag, the other still gripping tightly onto Harry's wrists.

"We have this period free, remember? No Defence Against the Dark Arts right now," Ron explained slowly, trying to give her a meaningful look.

"Yes I know, and that's why we have enough time to go to the library," Hermione exclaimed matter-of-factly.

"But you promised we could go for a walk around the lake during our free period," Ron reminded her meaningfully, finally standing and walking up in front of Hermione.

A warm flush spread across Hermione's face, and it was a few seconds before she recovered, and was able to reply. "Oh, honestly! Ron Weasley, we have enough time for...for such activities! Clearly you can see that this is far more important," Hermione stated, her face regaining its natural peaches-and-cream colouring. "Now, are you coming or not?"

The only response that came from Ron's part was incoherent mumbling as he started walking ahead of them with his head bowed and arms crossed. Harry, however, wasn't listening to the conversation; this time, though, it wasn't because of his worry with Trelawney's prediction, but rather because he was savouring the feel of Hermione's delicate fingers curled around his wrist...Harry's cheeks began to flame again, which was getting rather suspicious. Why was it that the only time this occurred seemed to be when...

Harry couldn't finish his last thought, for at that moment he felt a great tug from Hermione, signalling him to continue walking. Right...he had forgotten...the library.

***

A month has passed rather rapidly, considering the time Harry, Hermione and Ron had been spending in the library. Throw in loads of homework and studying, and you had one incredibly full schedule.

However, Harry was extremely grateful that nothing had happened during that period of time. Maybe nothing was going to happen, maybe professor Trelawney was the fraud he knew her to be, maybe, just maybe everything would be as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts (which, really, shouldn't be called "normal"), or perhaps this was just an extreme case of pure wishful thinking and Voldemort would attack any second now. Evidently, Harry wasn't over this idea, and truth be told, he was constantly keeping a watchful eye wherever they went, just to be sure.

The fact that everything was returning to the "normal," kept Harry from turning completely paranoid. The Weasley twins had begun their customary pranks and so far had half the Gryffindor population turned, at some point, into mice; Neville Longbottom, like always, was getting in trouble with professor Snape, and was responsible for thirty points off Gryffindor because of a small accident at Potions, which students affectionately referred to as the opera-singer effect. Ginny had returned to her usual state of utmost admiration; when it was possible, she'd grab a seat at one end of the common room and simply gawk at Harry for hours at and end. And, the most common and perhaps most comforting situation to return was the constant bickering between Ron and Hermione. They had returned to their old habit of squabbling over every last detail. Harry felt guilty, but he couldn't deny that he felt relieved they were back to their old ways, fully loaded with the sarcastic blows, clever comebacks and well-timed puns. Of course, he'd also realized that their fights were always about the same thing: Hermione's lack of time.

"Oh come on, 'Mione!" Ron begged. The three of them occupied a table, each pouring over their homework. Better said, Hermione was doing her homework, Harry was keeping up on his library research, and Ron was simply arguing with Hermione, his Divinations assignment long forgotten.

"I already told you, that not tonight. I still have two essays to complete and a special project for Arithmancy," Hermione explained, her eyes still on the parchment she was busily scribbling away on.

"But what's the point? You have loads of time to do them! They aren't due for another month!" Ron exclaimed, standing up and hovering near Hermione's back.

"I have to start doing them right now, you know I don't like to leave my homework for last minute," said Hermione replied indignantly, dipping her quill in ink and proceeding with her writing.

"Yeah, but we haven't been on a decent date for days!" exclaimed Ron, in a sharper voice than he'd intended.

Harry looked at Hermione from the top of his book and saw her get a little flustered. "What are you talking about? We had a... date two days ago." Hermione replied quietly, her eyes boring into Ron's.

"Hermione," Ron said slowly, trying to calm himself before continuing. "Having me recite the hundred uses for bouncing bulbs at the lakeside isn't what normal people could call a date," Ron explained, his voice strained and wary.

"And why not? It is highly productive, and that way we can study for the O.W.L's at the same time," Hermione clarified.

"For heaven's sake, Hermione, it’s supposed to be a date, not a bloody study session!" Ron blurted out, his exasperation finally seeping out.

At this statement, the entire common room fell silent. All eyes were trained on the pair, and even Harry could not pretend to read anymore. Hermione dropped her quill and slammed her hand on the parchment she had been working on, spreading the still fresh ink on her hands. She stood up to face Ron, her eyes stormy. "Ron...for the last time: I don't have time right now. My schoolwork comes first and you know that. I am not telling you again," Hermione replied coolly, in a soft, dangerous tone she used sparingly; Harry could hear the strain of her trying to control her rage. "So calm yourself, sit down and finish your homework," Hermione concluded, sitting back down and inhaling deeply.

The other students, seeing that the fight had ended, returned to their activities; Ron and Hermione forgotten. Except by Harry, of course, who was still watching the interaction between his friends. Ron had finally relented and sat next to Hermione, rummaging through his scattered papers, trying to regain some order. Hermione was attempting to calm herself; she put her head in her hands. She kept her face covered for a minute or so.

Harry was watching Hermione intently, waiting patiently to look into her eyes, and find out how she was truly feeling. At last her hands fell from her face and Harry let out a laugh.

Hermione's head was about to explode; this month had been extremely stressful. Her attention was not entirely in her homework, she guiltily admitted. She had been doing extra research by herself. She was behind on her assignments, which is why her attention was focused entirely on them right now.

Hermione was very embarrassed for having a conversation of that type with Ron and for Harry to be watching. She had felt his gaze upon her, which was the reason she'd kept her face covered for a lot longer than necessary. She'd hoped that Harry wouldn't ask any questions; she didn't think she was ready to give any reasoning to her behaviour. When she let her hands fall from her face, she'd been expecting to be attacked by Harry's intense, searching eyes; that's why she'd felt incredibly relieved and grateful when she'd heard his sweet laugh instead.

"And what are you laughing at, Harry Potter?" Hermione said, mock-angrily, inwardly thankful at Harry's reaction.

Harry laughed some more and leaned across the table. "You have some...some ink on your face."

Hermione's right hand went immediately to her cheek, feeling completely self-conscious. "Where?" she asked, rubbing every spot on her face.

Harry was having a hard time trying to answer. The ink was smeared on her cheekbone, and Hermione looked kind of...kind of...cute? No, not cute. Hermione couldn't look cute to Harry! "It's by your-" started Harry, pointing on his own face where the smudge was located on Hermione's.

But Hermione was getting desperate and was nowhere near cleaning up the smear of ink. Where was that damned spot? "Here...let me," she heard Harry say, and a second later she felt the sensation of his touch.

Harry had spoken, and before he knew or thought through what he was doing, he'd already extended his arm and crossed the length of the table until his fingers came into contact with her cheek. He was immediately shocked by the incredible softness of her skin as he began to slowly, leisurely move his thumb across the smooth span of her cheek, caressing her delicate skin, while trying to wipe the ink stain.

When she felt his strong thumb moving across her cheek, a strange, indescribable sensation shot through her body. She lifted her head slightly to make direct eye contact with Harry, and was shocked to see his sea green eyes boring into her own. Their eyes locked in an intense moment, where deep chocolate brown met fiery emerald green.

Looking into the bottomless cinnamon depths of Hermione's eyes increased the strange, dull ache in his heart that Harry experienced when he ran his thumb gently across her velvety skin. He had looked into her eyes millions of times before, but never did they hold this new light to them. He watched the feminine features of her face, enhanced by the flickering light of the fireplace. Involuntarily, he extended the rest of his fingers so as to cup her entire left cheek with his hand.

Hermione thanked the gods that she was sitting; otherwise she would have already collapsed. She couldn't feel her legs anymore. Her heart was racing, and she felt she would burst any moment now. The moment Harry's strong hand had cupped her cheek, she felt tiny white-hot sensations skitter along her spine, and she shivered. She was positive that Harry could hear the beat of her heart, just as he could feel just how hot her cheeks were.

"I think you got the ink spot, Harry," Ron put in dryly.

Both Harry and Hermione snapped out of their reverie, and whipped their heads towards Ron. OH. Harry had actually forgotten Ron was there, and he got the impression that Hermione had, too. Harry retrieved his arm hastily, hitting himself on the elbow in the process. "Right," answered Harry, totally confused and unable to handle his emotions.

"Yes...well...thank you...Harry," Hermione said lamely, silently wondering how long they'd actually remained in that position, "Well...its late," she said, quickly gathering all her stuff and cramming into her already bulging bag. She was about to leave when she turned to Ron and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, "I'll see you tomorrow," she whispered hastily, just before running up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Harry stared after her fleeting figure; he couldn't believe the rush he felt just to touch Hermione like that. And the way she had looked...how her soft hair had fallen all around her shoulders, her parted lips, that sweetly rosy colour, which her knew was natural, the deepest brown eyes he had ever laid eyes on, and how they twinkled. Harry felt Ron's piercing gaze and decided not to turn towards him. What if Ron asked him a question he couldn't answer? He was barely capable of answering his own questions. He stood up, and picked up the book he had been reading, "I'll go too. See you," he said shortly, and walked away rather hurriedly. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Had he just been thinking how...how Hermione looked? He shouldn't be doing such a thing...after all, Hermione was his best friend and not only that, but she was his best friend that was currently dating his other best friend. The idea of how Hermione had looked simply did not belong in his mind.

TO BE CONTINUED...

6. Not your usual visit to Hogsmeade

While you were in a coma

<Not your usual visit to Hogsmeade>

Harry woke up from a restless sleep. He stretched, still lying in his bed. He hadn't been able to sleep last night, tossing and turning agitatedly; his mind was still racing, alive with feelings he'd never had before, emotions he'd never experienced before. It was an hour before he heard Ron come to bed; Harry had stayed extra quiet to give the impression that he was already asleep. He didn't fancy any type of confrontation with his friend.

Harry shifted on his bed and settled himself into another position. It had taken him hours to actually fall asleep, and then came those dreams. Harry sat up; he didn't want to dwell on thoughts of the person who'd occupied said dreams. He extended his hand blindly to his night table and snatched his glasses. He inhaled deeply, preparing to leave the security of his warm bed and face Ron.

Harry flung aside the curtain that enclosed his four-poster bed and shoved his feet into his night slippers. As he stood up, he heard the faint snoring of his roommates and turned to Ron's bed, only to find it empty.

"That's weird!" Harry exclaimed, louder than he'd intended. Ron was never a morning person, and, judging from the way the faint morning sunrays seeped through the window, it still had to be pretty early. Harry searched the nightstand for his watch to learn the exact time, but refrained abruptly, remembering his watch had been useless since the second task at the Triwizard Tournament.

"Umm," came a muffled voice from a neighboring bed, "Harry, is that you?"

"Yes, sorry for waking you up, Neville," Harry apologized quickly.

"It's okay. Ron was the one who woke me up. Don't you two realize that it's Saturday?" Neville grumbled, before turning his back on Harry.

"Do you know what time he left?" Harry inquired, lowering his voice; he didn't want to wake up any other friends.

"About fifteen minutes ago," Neville mumbled sleepily.

"Thanks, Neville," Harry replied, heading for his trunk in search of clean clothes. When Neville didn't answer back, Harry figured he had gone back to sleep. Harry quietly headed to the bathroom, planning to take a quick shower before going down to find Ron.

It took Harry ten minutes to head down to the common room, only to find Ginny poring over a book.

"Good morning, Ginny," Harry greeted, heading towards her.

Ginny immediately flushed. "Oh! Good morning, Harry," she responded with a shy smile.

"Have you seen Ron this morning?" he asked, getting right to the point.

"He left with Hermione about ten minutes ago," she answered, sitting up and fixing her flaming hair. By the look of her face, however, Harry could tell something else was bothering her. "They seemed to be fighting again...that's why Hermione insisted they go discuss it elsewhere," she spoke, concern etched into her face. Harry didn't know how to react in front of Ginny, so he kept quiet. "After yesterday's fight, with all of the Gryffindors as audience, I don't blame her," she added, searching for more conversation with Harry.

"You saw them?" he asked, hoping she hadn't witnessed what had happened afterwards.

"No, I was already at the dormitories, but Pavarti was kind enough to inform those of us who weren't present," Ginny declared sarcastically.

Harry felt his face grow hot again. Had Pavarti seen anything else? Had she spread the word about that, too? But Ginny was acting normally. No, perhaps Pavarti had left right after Ron and Hermione had finished arguing. Harry let out a relaxed breath as he mentally reached that re-assuring conclusion. But anyway, what was the problem? He had just cleaned Hermione's cheek after all; there was nothing wrong with that. However, what he couldn't understand is why he got a warm, almost tingly feeling in his body, just remembering the incident.

"Well thanks Ginny, I'll head out to find them," Harry said, standing up walking towards the portrait hole.

"Oh...ok Harry," Ginny spoke, her voice heavy with disappointment. "I'll see you at breakfast!" Ginny shouted after Harry.

So Ron and Hermione were fighting again. Well...Harry felt...he felt...actually, he didn't want to know how he felt. He just wanted to talk to his friends. Harry went searching around the castle; he swung by the Great Hall, and even the library, but they were nowhere to be found. Where could they be? He continued to walk aimlessly about the almost empty halls, when he heard soft, feeble echoes of Hermione's voice. It was too soft to understand what she was saying, but it was obvious by her tone that she was troubled. Harry hurried to catch up to where the voice was coming from, until he finally saw Ron and Hermione walking about twenty-feet in front of him. He was about to shout out to them, but the argument between them started out again, and Harry was curious to find out the reason for their fight.

"Ron, you are being ridiculous," Hermione argued, her voice strong.

"I don't think I am!" Ron defended, his ears acquiring the characteristic red tone when he is angry.

"Yes, you are...what you're implying...that's ludicrous," she said, her voice shaking slightly, and her anxiety was evident through her body language.

"Are you telling me the truth?" Ron asked, suddenly stopping and turning to Hermione. He grabbed Hermione by the arm, stopping her too.

"Yes!" she spoke with force as she met Ron's gaze. "What you're accusing me of...it can never be..." Harry noticed a change in her voice as he approached them surreptitiously, hiding behind a pillar. "...It can...it can... never be true..." this time Harry barely heard Hermione as she lowered her head, her words trailing off.

Ron seemed to be gathering strength as he grabbed Hermione with both arms, "Then prove it to me, Hermione," Ron pronounced.

"Isn't the fact that I'm with you proof enough?" Hermione countered, lifting her eyes, ready to counter-argue the determination in Ron's eyes.

"Hermione, we've been together for two months..." Ron started, his voice steady, "...and in that period of time, you haven't once..."

"Ok...I know," Hermione stopped him, lifting her hand. Overwhelming dread and guilt built up insider her, for she already knew what he was going to say. "Ok..." she said softly, and Harry's heart began to race. Hermione turned, searching for anyone who might be watching them. Harry had barely enough time to get back behind the pillar. He returned his attention once again to them, nervously anticipating what was coming next.

Hermione was taking deep breaths; preparing. She watched nervously as Ron began to slowly approach her, his eyes never leaving her face. She clutched her hands tightly; her nails were leaving bright marks on her soft skin. She screwed her eyes shut, pursed her lips securely together and stiffened completely as Ron's arms wrapped around her.

Harry was having trouble fighting the two powerful forces that were trying to take control over him. One was trying to make Harry turn around and leave his friends so that they could have a private moment. However, the stronger, much more insisting force wanted to burst into a run to stop what Ron was intending to do. Harry was full of anxiety as he watched Ron inch closer to Hermione; his hands were clutching the pillar so tightly, it felt the pillar would crumble underneath his fingers. "NO!" His mind screamed in desperation.

"Oh, dear God! Can't you be a bit more considerate? People can lose their breakfast at such a repelling sight," the cold, sneering voice of Draco interrupted rudely, stopping Ron not a moment too soon. Draco's cronies, Goyle and Crabbe, sniggered stupidly.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron spat, fuming with anger. Harry, though, was so grateful for Malfoy's interruption he could kiss Malfoy. Well...almost.

Malfoy and company waltzed away, happy at having ruined Ron's moment, and Harry decided to run to Ron and Hermione before Ron could proceed.

"Hey guys," he greeted cheerfully.

"Good morning Harry," responded Hermione, her entire body relaxing from her tense stance.

"Yeah," Ron answered, still angry.

"Have you two had breakfast yet?" Harry asked.

"No," answered Hermione, blushing lightly, shooting a brief, sideways glance at Ron.

"So...should we go then?" Harry pressed, wanting to get to a more public surrounding as quickly as possible.

"Of course, let's go," Hermione declared, starting to walk swiftly to the Great Hall; Harry and Ron trailed behind her.

***

Between worrying about Ron, and witnessing what could have been a horrible sight, Harry had forgotten that today was a Hogsmeade weekend. All of the Gryffindor students from third year and above were in the common room, preparing to leave for another great trip. Harry was sitting rather uncomfortably on a sofa; he was very preoccupied, carefully thinking what to do. He was seriously considering missing out on the trio this time, especially since the whole time they'd been there, Ron hadn't once let go of Hermione's hand. Hermione kept glancing at him from time to time, and Harry couldn't help wondering if it was because of the pity she felt about leaving him alone while she and Ron chose to go off together.

"Well come on everybody, Honeydukes awaits us," Ron called out excitedly as the crowd began to walk out.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione called.

"Actually, I'm not sure if I'm coming," Harry replied, standing up.

Hermione released herself from Ron. "What do you mean? You have to go," she answered, her brows creasing.

"But..." Harry lost his resolve; he couldn't stand having Hermione close. "I don't wish to be a third wheel..." he trailed off. Harry spoke truthfully under Hermione's powerful gaze.

"Nonsense!" Ron exclaimed, before Hermione could respond. "You can go with Ginny..."

"Ron!!" Hermione reprimanded, then added, "Harry, you can never be a third wheel." She grabbed his hand and smiled sweetly.

Harry smiled back, mesmerized by Hermione's smile, and with her hand on his, he couldn't concentrate on anything else. He tightened his grip around her hand as an overwhelming desire of wanting to touch her shot through him.

"Yes, well...move it then," Ron interrupted, grabbing Hermione's other hand and pulling her through portrait. Harry touched his cheeks to test just how hot they were before following his friends out.

***

Two hours later, Harry realized his assumption had been right. He did feel like the third wheel, as Ron kept trying to kiss Hermione the whole time, and she kept refusing every single time. Harry was angry with himself for having these horrible feelings inside him. His blood had this strange way of feeling like it was boiling every time Ron attracted Hermione to him. Yet, why was Harry even getting involved in this? It was their relationship, and he didn't care what they did.

"Oh, don't you give me those lies Harry," Hermione spoke, her voice strong.

"What?" Harry asked nervously. Had he spoken out loud?

"Don't you dare say that you don't want to go to the Three Broomsticks with us," Hermione continued, not noticing when Harry let out a relieved breath, "you've had a craving for Butterbeer for days."

"Harry, look!" Ron exclaimed, pointing to the new Quidditch store that had recently opened in Hogsmeade. "They have new Chudley Cannon memorabilia," he said excitedly, before running to the store window.

"As if he doesn't had enough orange stuff covering his room," Hermione scoffed.

"Don't let him hear you say that," Harry said, feigning seriousness.

"Oh, what will he do? Break up with me?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"I wish," Harry snorted, before he knew what he had said.

"What?" Hermione asked, immediately turning to face Harry.

Harry was avoiding her eyes. What had he just said? While he was thinking up what to say, an eerie feeling of icy, glacial coldness enveloped him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He remembered this feeling; this cold that had made him feel a void inside; yes, it was the same eeriness he'd sensed in Diagon Alley. He was startled; his senses came alive, and he inspected his surroundings. Right then, he saw a suspicious man moving through the shadows; uneasy, Harry focused his attention at the darting movements of the man; he looked eerily familiar. Then it came to him. Wormtail. That filthy little--Harry's eyes narrowed, he was attempting to control the anger, but it was no use. His temper flared, and he was taking short, gasps of air.

"Harry? Harry!" Hermione was calling. At first she'd been angry because Harry hadn't answered her question, but then when he had frozen in a sort of trance, she'd gotten worried. "Are you alright? What's wrong?" she grabbed him by the shoulders, desperate to get an answer.

"Wormtail," he breathed, still shocked.

"What? Where?" she asked, concernedly, shifting her gaze in the direction Harry's thumb was directed, unconsciously scooting closer to him in the process.

"Well, as always I don't have enough money to buy at least a cheering mini-doll," Ron called, making his way back to where the two of them were standing. "Hey, what's up with you two?"

"I'm going after him," Harry stated decidedly, and began walking.

"Your absolutely are not," Hermione replied, grabbing his arm.

"Hermione, let me go," Harry insisted, struggling to wrench her firm grip.

"What's going on?" Ron exclaimed, fed off with the obvious lack of attention.

"Harry spotted Wormtail and, foolishly, wants to go after him," Hermione explained, continuing, "and just what do you think you are going to do, huh, Harry?" she asked, her voice changing.

"I don't know yet," Harry responded.

"Now, that's a great plan," Hermione replied sarcastically, her voice laced with anger.

"I have to follow him," Harry said, determined to keep his resolve.

"Harry, no!" Hermione had softened her tone, almost begging him not to go.

"Don't you understand? I was the one responsible for Wormtail escaping to go to Voldemort," Harry reasoned to her, and Ron and Hermione flinched at the sound of the name.

"Harry...you-you spared a life...that's very honourable," Hermione said, her voice quivering.

"Regardless of whom it was..." Ron put in.

"I shouldn't have done it, if it wasn't for me, Voldemort wouldn't have risen anew. Now I have to go after him!"

"I am going with you," Hermione replied quickly.

"NO!" Harry and Ron shouted at the same time, startling Hermione.

"And why not?" she asked, indignantly.

"Don't you realize that if you come with me, the prediction could come true...what if--" Harry started.

"What if the prediction has nothing to do with the three of us? What if the three that professor Trelawney spoke of are you, Wormtail and...You-Know-Who..." Hermione trailed off, her voice quivering. "What if the one that falls in darkness is you?" Hermione exclaimed, finally voicing the real fear that had been tormenting her the whole time.

"Hermione," Harry was at lost of words; frankly, this idea comforted him a bit, since this could mean that neither she nor Ron could get hurt. "Look, everything will be okay, now you want to help me?" Hermione merely nodded. "Ok, then. Ron, you take Hermione and go and find help...if you need to, go up to the castle and tell a professor-" Harry continued.

"Harry, that will take us so much time...what if you need help?" Hermione interrupted.

"You are helping me, Hermione," Harry replied.

"NO! What you are doing, as always, is trying to save the rest of us, while putting yourself in more trouble," Hermione screamed, her eyes filling, "I don't care what you say, I'm going with you!"

"No, you are not! Something can happen to you," Harry replied, also getting angry.

"Something can happen to you, too!" she retorted.

"Don't you understand that if something happens to you, I...I..." Harry stopped himself from continuing, and grabbed her by her shoulders. His throat was dry and felt strangely narrow, and he swallowed hard as he made direct contact with Hermione's eyes. He was getting desperate, he knew Hermione was stubborn, but he was also determined to stop her from getting herself involved in this situation. His heart racing, he tried not to think of what he was about to say. He looked into her deep cinnamon brown eyes, which bore into his own emerald ones, and saw that they were filled with a mixture of anger and sorrow. His right hand left her shoulder, and slowly made its way to her cheek; he wanted to feel the softness of her skin again, just wanted simple contact with her. He was just a few inches from her cheek, when he balled up his hand and let it drop. "If anything happens to either you or Ron, I could never forgive myself," Harry whispered finally, desperately attempting to make his voice sound believable enough. He wasn't originally planning to say that at all, and the realization of this made his stomach sick with misery.

This time Hermione didn't have an answer. She simply lowered her head as she tried to control her sharp intakes of air. "Now, come on, Hermione," Harry continued, letting her shoulders go, "the faster you run to the castle, the faster you return," he added encouragingly.

Hermione lifted her head to look into his eyes. Her eyes silently pleaded to go with him. "Don't do anything foolish, please," Hermione spoke, her voice shaking and just a notch above a whisper.

"I won't, you know me," he said, trying to evoke a smile.

"It's precisely because I know you, that I am telling you to be careful," she said seriously. They remained quiet for a few seconds, neither one moving from their position. Harry knew very well that if he wanted to catch up to Wormtail he had to go right away, but something made him want to stay rooted to the same spot. He needed something; he wasn't sure what it was, but his body and heart knew that they required it before running out to a new adventure. Hermione's eyes were now piercing into his, radiating with a shocking intensity he had never felt from her before. As if she could read his eyes as easily as she did her schoolbooks, she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms securely around his neck. Immediately, his entire body came alive, all of his muscles tensed up and relaxed at the speed of lightning. How could she do that? How could she read or sense exactly what he needed? Strangely her hug filled him with strength and...warmth. "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid, Harry. Promise me you are just going to see where he's hiding and then come here and wait for us to come with help," Hermione requested, still clinging to his neck.

Harry's arms were slowly moving to her waist, and he lightly placed them on either side. Not trusting himself to actually wrap his arms around her, he whispered, "I will."

"Tell me that you promise," Hermione begged, with desperation in her voice.

"I promise." Harry closed his eyes, and enjoyed the way her warm breath caressed his ear when she spoke.

Slowly, Hermione loosened her arms around his neck and let her arms fall to her sides. Harry took a step back, clenching his fist, "Well, I'll see you later."

Ron, who had been extremely quiet during the whole of Harry's chat with Hermione, walked slowly to him. He grabbed Hermione's hand, and said to Harry, "Be careful, mate. We'll hurry up to the castle."

Harry smiled weakly as he turned to the direction Wormtail had been, and started running. Hermione was still rooted to the same spot, as Ron was trying to tug her away. "Come on Hermione, we have to go," he pressed, and he finally succeeded in moving her a few inches.

Harry had already disappeared from Hermione's sight, but she knew that Harry was lying to her. She knew that he was going to try and face Wormtail. She could barely hear Ron's angry voice as he was pulled her forcefully towards the castle.

Ron's face was red from pulling Hermione like a sack of potatoes through the streets, but Hermione still kept looking in the direction Harry had run to. "Harry..." Hermione whispered, so softly that Ron himself couldn't decide whether he'd imagined it.

She couldn't-she just couldn't leave Harry alone. Something could happen to him, what if Wormtail wasn't alone??? Oh, why had she left him go alone? Instantly, her mind was made up. She began wriggling her hand furiously, attempting to unfurl Ron's firm grip around it. She was using such a force she didn't even know existed within her, but after a few minutes of struggling, she was free; gasping for breath, she started running blindly in the general direction of which Harry had run off. She could barely hear Ron screaming her name, shouting at her to come back; it was merely noise to her ears; her own inner voice was screaming, "Harry!" much too loudly.

***

Harry didn't know if he was going in the right direction. He had lost so much time arguing with Hermione; he'd lost Wormtail's trail. He was in the outskirts of Hogsmeade, near the woods where Sirius had hidden years before. He finally stopped as he reached the patchy part of the woods, tightly clutching his wand, when Harry realized he'd lost Wormtail. "Damn it!" Harry screamed in anger. As soon as he spoke, a gush of icy cold breeze shot through him, and he shivered. Somehow, this cold atmosphere always came with a sense of emptiness.

"Expelliarmus!" a voice shouted behind him, and just as Harry was turning to face it, his wand flew out of his hand.

"Why must you be so predictable, Harry Potter?" sneered the man, exiting the large tree-covered area where he had been hiding. His voice was strange, almost as if regretting that he had found Harry.

"Wormtail," Harry breathed, anger rising up in his voice.

"You should have listened to your friend, and shouldn't have come after me," he continued, ignoring the fire blazing in Harry's eyes. Wormtail's wand extended towards him. Harry then understood that Wormtail had heard their discussion, and had probably been following him since Diagon Alley. "And now, I have to fulfill my mission," he said again; his tone of voice was now that of a conspirator.

"I should have let Sirius kill you," Harry whispered angrily, his stance not wavering under Wormtail's threat.

"But you didn't..." Wormtail retorted immediately, continuing, "and for that, I am great debt to you." Wormtail was trying to be calm, but his wand was trembling in his stubby hand.

"I don't want anything from you!" Harry shouted furiously, taking a step towards him. Wormtail recoiled, taking a few steps back, the fear starting to show in his eyes.

"My master doesn't want you to interfere in his plans. That is why he sent me to take care of you," Wormtail explained.

"I thought your master would at least be brave enough to come and destroy me himself," Harry defied, and sudden shudder crept through his body, but he didn't let on.

"He doesn't wish for certain wizards to discover him yet..." Wormtail began, and, as if wanting to reveal details, continued, "besides, I haven't been sent here to kill you."

Harry was confused; Wormtail had originally said that he was sent to 'take care of him' and now he was claiming he wasn't going to kill Harry? But before Harry could find the words to question Wormtail, he'd raised his wand, threatening to cast a spell.

"HARRY!!" Hermione's voice screamed as she came running quickly towards him, and standing in front of him.

"Hermione, get out of here!!" he screamed back to her, frantically trying to push her away.

"NO! I'm not leaving you!" she retorted, searching her robes for her wand, and maintaining her ground.

Harry saw with great desperation that Wormtail hadn't relented, and was still holding his wand high. Hermione, unfortunately, was still stubbornly standing in his way. What was she playing at? "Hermione!!!" Harry was now pleading, and was trying to push her behind him; that would black her a bit, at least.

"With this, I pay my debt..." Wormtail screamed; huge droplets of sweat running down his ugly face. "Ava..." he began muttering.

Desperately, Harry grabbed Hermione from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, preparing to pull her out of the way. Time seemed to freeze and an indescribable amount of fear overtook Harry; he thought he was moving in slow motion, his head was buzzing from what could happen to Hermione if the spell hit her. His senses became distant; it was as if he no longer could hear Wormtail. Just as Harry willed his muscles to move, to try and push Hermione away with renewed fervour, Harry felt strong hands push him forcefully to one side. As Harry fell to the ground, he had just enough time to turn to see Ron take the spell full on. The impact threw Ron a few feet into the air before he hit the ground with a loud thud.

"RON!!!" Harry and Hermione screamed at the same time, before slamming to the cold, hard ground themselves. The last thing Harry felt was the intense, throbbing pain in his head, and Wormtail lamenting before darkness fell over him.

TO BE CONTINUED.

7. What Happened?

While you were in a coma

<Chapter Seven>

<What Happened?>

Harry woke up, yet he refused to open his eyes. He had just experienced the worst nightmare to ever enter his subconscious mind. In it Wormtail had returned to execute Voldemort's orders, Hermione had actually risked her life, and Ron had sacrificed himself to save Hermione and him.

Harry stirred aware that it was time to wake up. His bed felt rather stiff, and now that he noticed, he couldn't hear Neville's snore. Harry opened his eyes to investigate; the first thing he saw, with his blurry gaze, was a mop of brown hair. Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, sure that his sight had deceived him, but as his eyes slid open again, they focused and indeed there was a mop of brown hair in his bed, and the owner of such hair was Hermione. Harry's heart started going a hundred miles per hour. She was asleep, breathing steadily curled up in a ball, but her sleep was obviously not peaceful, as her soft features where contorted in a grimace. As Harry's eyes traveled through Hermione's feminine face, he realized something else, his right hand, which was extended towards Hermione's direction, was holding her hand. Well, actually her hand was just lightly placed over Harry's hand, but just the idea that they had spent an amount of time with their hands in that position made Harry's heart beat even more rapidly. Then his mind stopped focusing on 'those kind' of feelings, when the most obvious questions sprang into his mind. Why were Hermione and he in the same bed? And where were they? This wasn't his bed at all. Harry lifted his head from his pillow, to look around his surroundings, that's when he realized he was in one of the beds of the hospital wing. Questions where about to pop out of his mind, when he felt Hermione's hand begin to lightly twitch within his. He turned to her just as she was opening her eyes. She blinked several times, probably not believing what she was seeing.

"Harry?" she spoke, her voice deep with lingering sleep. "What..." she began, looking around her surroundings. She was about to pronounce a new question, when her gaze fell about their still joined hands. She moved her fingers slowly, as if to make sure it was really her hand in his. Harry felt the soft movement of her fingers, over the sensitive skin of his palm. All he wanted to do was to close his hand tight around hers.

"I see you two ended up in the same bed," the voice of Madam Pomfrey broke the silence of the room. "Even though I distinctly remember putting you in separate beds yesterday." Harry and Hermione blushed bright red at the same time, neither one noticing the reaction of the other.

"Good Morning," came a voice from behind Hermione that broke the awkward moment. "Are you two okay?"

"Professor Lupin?" asked Harry sitting up.

Hermione did the same, slowly slipping her hand away from Harry's. "Professor Lupin! What are you doing here?" Hermione continued the interrogation.

"It is good to see you too," Remus answered trying to smile, but the strained tinge to his voice made Harry realize something was wrong. "How are you two feeling?"

"Why are we here?" asked Harry, finally voicing his doubts.

Lupin cleared his throat, he seemed years older as he sat by Harry's legs. "You two received very strong hits to you heads, fortunately Madam Pomfrey fixed you right up."

Harry's hand unconsciously traveled to the back of his head, he saw Hermione do the same thing. To his mind came a torrent of visions and memories that he had been repressing.

"RON?!?!" Harry expressed almost simultaneously with Hermione. "Where is Ron? We saw him...the spell...Wormtail...is he..." Harry knew he was not making any sense, but the anxiety was destroying him. Hermione kept watching between Lupin and Harry, her eyes watery and restless for an answer.

"Settle down, both of you," Professor Lupin tried to call them, his voice breaking.

This wasn't a good sign. "Is he...alright?" Hermione spoke with much strength as she could muster.

Professor Remus Lupin slowly stood up, arranged his tattered robes and turned to them. "Follow me," he extended his arm. They moved towards him, as he placed himself between the two fifth year students, posing his hands lightly on their backs, leading them to another bed at the end of the wing. Harry's feet felt like lead as they made their way through the empty rows of hospital beds. He could hear Hermione's heavy breathing. They came at last to the final bed and Harry's blood froze when he saw Ron spread among the bed, his face pail white.

"Ron..." Harry heard Hermione breath, before she ran to one side of the bed.

"Oh my God, Ron," Harry said sadly, walking to the other side. Ron's hand was stone cold as Harry touched it lightly. His eyes shut tightly as angry tears spilled from his eyes. "Why?"

"He is...he is breathing..." Hermione choked as her hand, which was placed upon Ron's chest, rose and fell with a slow rhythm.

"He is alive?!?!" Harry spoke with hope as he opened his eyes and looked to the professor and the nurse, who had remained deadly quiet. "Is he going to be alright? What happened to him?"

"We were hoping that you two could answer that particular question," the old raspy voice of Dumbledore erupted from the door. "Is good to see that you two are well," Dumbledore expressed. "Now please, sit down and tell me exactly what happened," Dumbledore had conjured up some seats, but only he and Lupin sat down; Harry and Hermione were glued to Ron's side. "Who attacked you?" He began.

"Wormtail. He's been trailing me since Diagon Alley," Harry answered, his sight never leaving Ron.

"What happened when you were at Hogsmeade?" Professor Lupin continued.

"I felt the same cold atmosphere that I had experienced in Diagon Alley, that's when I saw Wormtail and decided to follow him," Harry answered.

"Follow him?" Dumbledore repeated.

"Yes. And because of the prediction, I was afraid for Her-"

"Sorry for interrupting Harry, but what prediction are you talking about?" Lupin asked.

Harry had a hard time describing the prediction Professor Trelawney had told them about a month ago, the words painfully falling into reality. "That is why I asked Ron to take Hermione and go for help...so the three of us wouldn't be in danger," Harry continued explaining his reasoning.

Before Harry could continue, the door to the hospital wing burst open. "Harry?!" Sirius Black disheveled voice was heard. As soon as his eyes landed on Harry he headed towards him with a rapid pace. "Thank God you are alright...I was so worried when Dumbledore sent me an owl," Sirius was holding so tightly to Harry's shoulders that it was beginning to hurt. What was Sirius doing here anyway? Any student or teacher could easily spot him. If he had entered any moment earlier Madam Pomfrey could have seen him. "I am so sorry Dumbledore, but I couldn't wait in your office any longer," Sirius apologized, answering Harry's doubts about how he had come to Hogwarts.

"Quite understandable Sirius," Dumbledore answered with a comforting tone. "However, I hope you took the precautions necessary when coming here?"

"Sure," Sirius assured rather rapidly, which made Harry believe he wasn't sincere. Dumbledore must have thought along the same lines, since he gave Sirius a doubtful look from above his half-moon glasses. "Anyway, Harry what happened? Who attacked you?" Sirius continued, ignoring Dumbledore's gaze.

"Sirius, Harry was just in the middle of telling us his story. Sit down so that he can continue," Remus calmed his friend, and retold the part he knew about Harry's story.

After a few minutes Harry had the floor again. "When I was about to give up, was exactly when he found me. His attitude was very strange, like he regretted that I had fallen right in to his trap..."

Harry dropped his gaze towards Ron again, but not wanting to stray to where Hermione was holding Ron's hand. While Hermione had finally lifted her eyes to look at Harry, the bitter tone he used when saying the last words worrying her.

"Did he say anything to you?" Sirius asked this time, pulling both Harry and Hermione's gazes to him.

"That is what got me terribly confused, at first when he said that he was there to 'take care of me' I thought he was going to kill me, but afterwards he assured me he wasn't going to," Harry detailed.

"Why did he attack Ron?" Sirius asked again.

"He didn't..." Harry pronounced with such sorrow and anger that all eyes were focused at what he was saying. "Ron pushed Hermione and me out of the way...that spell was intended for me..." he finished speaking so softly that Sirius, Remus and Dumbledore had a hard time understanding him.

Numerous questions about Voldemort followed, but Harry had no knowledge of him to answer them. "Did Wormtail say anything else to you?" Remus inquired.

Harry didn't have to think too hard to voice out this concern. "Before he said the spell, he proclaimed that with that he was going to pay his debt."

The room went immediately silent as both Sirius and Remus turned towards Dumbledore. "So Pettigrew did indeed pay his debt to you Harry," Dumbledore finally spoke.

Harry was totally confused, but something was more important. "What is wrong with Ron?"

"We are not completely sure, but according to some of Madam Pomfrey's analysis, he appears to be in some sort of coma," Dumbledore answered carefully.

Harry and Hermione were stunned, neither of them moved nor said anything for several minutes. Harry's head ached with this information and it wasn't until he heard Hermione sniffling that he was brought back to reality. He saw with great sadness how some stray tears were staining her face. His right hand twitched as all he wanted to do was to extend his arm and clean her tears.

"So Wormtail's idea of paying his wizard's debt was to put Harry in a coma?" Hermione suddenly spoke outraged, forcefully wiping the tears way.

"Not exactly Miss Granger. I believe that the coma state, in which Mr. Weasley had fallen to, is a variation of what Voldemort ordered Pettigrew to do. After all I don't believe he would be likely to totally ignore his master's orders. However, what exactly is the difference between the original orders and Pettigrew's debt spell, I am not sure of-"

The rest of Dumbledore's explanation was interrupted, when a distraught Mrs. Weasley forcefully opened the door of the hospital wing. "My boy!!!" she screamed as she came running towards Ron's bed. Hermione immediately stood aside and let Molly Weasley pass. "My poor little boy. What happened to you!" Mrs. Weasley was wailing as he stroked Ron's flaming-red hair. Mr. Weasley was currently talking to Professor Dumbledore, the somber look at his face told Harry that Dumbledore was explaining the situation.

Mrs. Weasley's long suffering cries pierced right through Harry's being, all of the sadness coming back to him.

"Perhaps Miss Granger and you should go to the kitchens and get something to eat," Dumbledore said to Harry, but his stomach felt like it was tossing and turning.

Hermione was the one to voice out Harry's feelings. "I am not hungry."¼/p>

Dumbledore gave Hermione and understanding gaze. "Well then, why don't both of you return to Gryffindor Tower so that we can leave the Weasleys alone."

Harry turned to the heartbreaking sight of Mr. Weasley trying to comfort Mrs. Weasley, who couldn't stop crying. He nodded his head in agreement and began to walk with Dumbledore towards the door.

"Hermione, could I talk to you for a minute?" Lupin asked, stopping her from following Harry.

Hermione walked slowly towards Lupin, wondering what he could want with her. "Yes, Professor Lupin?"

"Please Hermione, if we aren't in class you can call me Remus," he pleaded.

Hermione couldn't help to blush at his request; she wasn't accustomed to treat the Professors she respected so casually. "What can I help you with Remus?" she spoke with insecurity.

"I wanted to return this to you," he said as he took an object out of his robes.

"My wand! I lost it while I was running towards Harry; that is why I couldn't perform a spell to help him. Where did you find it?" she asked as she finally recuperated her wand.

"About twenty feet from where I found you," Lupin answered. "Hermione, I wondered if you can settle a doubt of mine," Lupin continued, as Sirius came and stood next to him.

"Yes?" Hermione spoke getting more nervous.

"Why didn't you and Ron make it to go and get help?" Lupin inquired.

Hermione's eyes shifted from Lupin to Sirius quickly. "I knew from the moment Harry made his promise of not confronting Wormtail that he wouldn't be able to keep it...you know how he is..." Hermione turned to look at Harry, who was at the door talking to Dumbledore, without realizing it, "...always getting himself in danger...always wanting to sacrifice himself in order to save a...a friend...I couldn't leave him alone..." Hermione continued her sight still lingering on Harry's form for another minute. "I just couldn't..." she finalized, dropping her gaze to her feet.

"And Ron?" Sirius asked.

"He must have followed me, after I ran to find Harry..." Hermione closed her eyes and rubbed them softly. All of the retailing had exhausted her emotionally, she felt very tired even though it was just minutes after she had woken up. Her eyes opened as she felt the weight of a hand over her shoulders.

It was Sirius. "Hermione, what you did at Hogsmeade for Harry...it was completely understandable." he wisely said, with a smile in his weary eyes.

"More than you know," Remus put in, sharing a knowing glance with Sirius.

Dumbledore stopped Harry before exiting. "There is something else I needed to asked you," he said with a gentle tone. "Did you hear the spell he used?"

Harry had to think a little with that one. "I heard him say the first three letters of the killing curse...that is why I got so worried that Hermione was in front of me...my senses were occupied in thinking she could...and Wormtail didn't stop when he saw her...and she...she..." Harry stopped, noticing he was rambling. "So I couldn't hear anything else. I'm sorry," Harry said, a little embarrassed.

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled as he spoke, "That is quite alright, is normal to get so worried, when danger threatens the ones you l-" Dumbledore stopped as soon as Hermione caught up with them. "Ah, Miss Granger, I was just asking Harry if he happened to hear the spell used by Wormtail. But he wasn't able to...remember. Perhaps you heard something?"

"No..." Hermione shook her head still in thought. "What I did notice, was that the spell that...hit Ron wasn't green like the killing curse..."

"You're right!!" Harry finally recalled. "The light the spell created wasn't entirely green, it had a mixture of-"

"-purple!" Hermione piped in. "And tiny-"

"-speaks of gold..." Harry added. "Can this help you Professor?"

Dumbledore, who had a slight smile from watching the interaction between the two teens, nodded. "It will come of help while trying to uncover the spell utilized."

***

Harry and Hermione then began the long journey to their common room. Both of them seemed in no hurry; their steps were short and slow. Neither talked during that period, Harry walked with his head held low, watching his feet move. After a few minutes he heard Hermione sniffling more loudly. Harry dared to glace sideways at Hermione, she also had her head down but he could still see the tears sliding effortlessly down her cheeks. Her breath breaking down while her shoulders gently shook. Harry couldn't take her suffering anymore; he stopped walking and turned to her, extending his left arm to stop her. His touch triggered her emotions as she started crying with more strength, big tears streaming down in thick rivers. Harry's heart broke just to see her in that state. What could he do to make her feel better? What did he know about giving comfort? He never learned these aspects of life, the Dursleys weren't exactly love personified, at least not with him. How could he show her he knew the pain she was going through? How to let her know she wasn't alone? He put his other hand on her other shoulder; he walked a few steps towards her as he pulled her gently to him, until they met halfway. When he felt Hermione tense up, he thought it had been a bad idea, but Hermione soon grasped the fabric of Harry's sweater and leaned her head on his shoulder. She seemed to let flow all of the pent-up feelings, she was sobbing hard, her shoulders shaking violently, cries escaping her mouth. Harry moved his hands, one to the small of her back and the other to the middle of her shoulders. He had no words to speak; he was passing by the same pain of losing a best friend. Although his original plan was to comfort Hermione, this contact was soothing him. The feel of her body within his embrace was revitalizing.

Hermione didn't feel anything except a great pressure in her chest, as she was walking through the halls. Her body ached for some type of sensation she didn't recognize. But then Hermione felt Harry's strong hand on her shoulder and then his warm arms were wrapping her. At first she was afraid of how nice it felt to be in his embrace, and then her oppression relaxed, and for the first time since she learned about Ron, she let her feelings flow.

Hermione's body was still shaking; Harry could feel the wet sensation of her tears staining his sweater. Harry couldn't stop from tightening his grip around Hermione.

She didn't know how long she had been crying, what she did know is that she felt very weak from thinking, recalling, admitting, hiding, denying and especially from crying. Her eyes stung as she felt her knees buckle and she felt herself falling.

Harry felt Hermione slipping; he reacted and tried to stop her from falling. But he wasn't fast enough, so he went down with her, gripping her from the waist, so she wouldn't fall. "Hermione..." he cleared his voice, amazed at how raspy it came out.

"I'm okay, I just need to sit down for a minute," Hermione responded in a tired voice. Kneeling in the cold floor, she let her arms fall from his sweater as she began to lift her head from his shoulder.

"OK, we'll stay here as long as you need," Harry answered softly, arranging his legs so he was kneeling comfortably; he wrapped his arms tighter, stopping Hermione from moving away.

"Thank you," Hermione barely mustered as her arms wrapped themselves around his chest, leaning her head comfortably on his chest. The sound of the air going through his lungs, lulling her to relax.

***

It was a good ten minutes before the portrait of the Big Fat Lady opened to let Harry and Hermione in. Harry had his arm around Hermione's shoulder, supporting her weight.

"Harry!"

"Hermione!"

Screams came as soon as they walked in. Fred, George, Ginny were sitting in the common room waiting. With them were Lee, Dean, Seamus, Neville and Lavender. The entire group walked to meet up with them. They were bombarded with the same questions, and Harry answered as well as he could. The twins were extremely somber; it was unnerving to see them like that.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny rushed over to him, throwing her arms around his chest.

"Ginny!" Harry was surprised over her actions. She never had acted so forward towards him. He felt his body tense up, and his first reaction was to pull away, but Ginny was crying and her suffering must be greater, so he didn't move. He felt rather uncomfortable as he placed his hand lightly on her shoulder, his other arm dropping to his side. Besides, Hermione was displaced by Ginny's motions; Harry turned to see where had she gone and with deep regret he saw her walk slowly to a near sofa, Lavender went to her. Hermione's face still reflected great sorrow and all he wanted was to still have her in his arms. Just to give her my support. Harry's brain put in. Ginny was still crying on his chest. Harry didn't understand why he wasn’t compelled to cover her with his arms. After all, Ginny was also his friend.

***

It was the first day Harry attended classes after the accident. It seemed that, as always with this type of happening, the entire school knew about Ron. Everywhere he went almost all pairs of eyes followed him, all of the students seemed to walk on shells around him, and they showered him with pity looks all around. It was exasperating; it only exacerbated his despair.

The worst part had to be the absence of Hermione in all of the classes they shared. Why hadn't she gone to class? Something wasn't okay if she had missed all her classes. The situation had gone worse when she didn't show up to dinner. Harry was already nervous when he arrived at the common room, hoping to find Hermione there, but no luck. Harry remained in his seat all through the night, wondering is she would come down from the girl's dormitories, but she did not.

The following days were spent the same way, and as each day passed his concern also grew. Where was she? Was she going to other classes? Was she eating at other times? Could she be avoiding him? All type of questions where in his mind as he gazed at the two empty seats at his sides in Potions class, Snape's lazy drawl forgotten. Harry was trying to immerse himself in his routine, to not think of his sudden loneliness.

***

Several days past and Harry was more depressed. On one of the nights he was sitting in one of the sofas close to the fireplace, watching the flames lick the logs, his thoughts drowned in guilt and retelling of the events of that day that had haunted his dreams. Ginny had joined him a few hours later, she also showed in her person how destroyed she was because of her brother's misfortune. After fruitlessly trying to engage in civil conversation with Harry, Ginny tentatively leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, and stayed there, enjoying the strength she received.

Harry felt the weight of Ginny's head, but he was too enwrapped in guilt to move away. "Harry?" Harry barely heard a woman's voice trying to break through his barrier of thoughts.

"Harry? Harry!" Lavender was shaking him by the shoulders, her voice strong.

Harry finally blinked and turned to stare blankly at Lavender. "Harry!?" Lavender and Ginny screamed at him and only then did he pay them attention.

"Lavender? What...what is it?" Harry finally focused on Lavender's worried face.

"Harry, I'm very worried about Hermione," Lavender began; she was about to sit down in the chair close to where Harry was. But at this statement Harry bolted from where he was sitting, forcing Ginny to sit up straight, lacking of support.

"Why? Is she alright? What's wrong?" Harry shot questions rapidly.

"She isn't well. As you noticed she hasn't attended classes, and that alone says plenty when referring to Hermione. But besides that she isn't eating, I can barely persuade her into eating a piece of fruit, and she also isn't sleeping..." Lavender explained.

"What?" Harry asked dumbfounded, he thought she wasn't taking well Ron's accident, but he didn't know to what extent she was suffering.

"She is extremely depressed; she moves through our room like a zombie. She spends the day sitting by the window looking out; I go to sleep she's there, when I wake up she hasn't budged. I go to classes and she's at the window and when I come back she's still in the same position with the same vacant expression and clothes; just tonight I convinced her to take a bath..." Lavender finished telling her story.

Even though this news had given new grief to Harry, he couldn't help but find Lavender's behavior completely strange. She and Hermione were never close, sure they shared the same room, but that was the extent of their relationship. That is why he didn't begin to understand why Lavender looked so sad and preoccupied for Hermione. Harry didn't want to dwell on Lavender's actions; perhaps she was just shaken up because of the dark nature of the happenings, like the rest of the school.

"Maybe you can come and talk to her, although I don't think you can..." Lavender seemed to be thinking of ways to help Harry to go and talk to Hermione.

Harry walked up to Lavender and pulled her outside Ginny's hearing distance. "Look, I know how to get to the girls dormitories without getting caught, all that I am going to ask of you is to make sure that you are alone with Hermione tonight," Harry said already making all of the plans in his head.

After they finished arranging their meeting, Harry went up to his dormitory. He stopped right at the door and for the hundredth time that week, Harry scanned the room. It was no longer the safe haven it used to be, where Ron and him used to make all of their plans and stay awake until late just talking and eating treats. Everything there reminded him of Ron, from the posters of the Canons, his favorite Quidditch team, to the socks strewn on the floor. Harry decided to go take a quick shower; he needed to clear his head if he was going to head up to talk to Hermione. Ignoring the skip his heart gave when he thought he was finally going to see her, he grabbed clean clothes and headed to the bathroom.

***

It was ten past ten and Hermione didn't seem to take notice of Lavender's nervous pacing. It had taken a great amount of convincing and even lying to usher off Parvati out of the room alone, along with the other two fifth year Gryffindor girls that shared their dorm room. And now it was ten minutes past the accorded time, and Harry hadn't arrived yet. Lavender was just making a mental list of what could have happened to Harry, when she heard three loud knocks at their door. Lavender recognized the signal knock that Harry and her had agreed on and rushed to the door. She glanced briefly at Hermione, who hadn't moved from her spot, Lavender opened the door and let Harry in quickly before closing the door, before anyone could see him.

"How did-" Lavender was confused.

Harry lifted his left hand to stop her. "Tell you on another occasion," he said while hiding his invisibility cloak behind his back with his other hand. Harry turned to Hermione and his heart seemed to stop. This girl couldn't be Hermione; this thin, deadly white, wrangled hair girl wasn't even her shadow.

Lavender saw Harry's stricken face and decided to excuse herself, "I'll leave you alone."

Harry heard the door close and made his way towards where she was sitting. "Hermione?" he called in a small worried voice. She didn't move, he got closer and dared to put a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione," he pronounced with a little more strength.

She seemed shocked by his touch and turned her head at him, her eyes searching his face as if trying to remember him. "Harry?" Harry's lips formed a miniscule smile, the first smile he evoked in a week. "What are you doing here?" Hermione spoke tiredly turning her head briskly away from Harry. Her tone was firm and discontent.

"I came to see how you were..." Harry spoke softly, her treatment deterring his resolve.

"Why should you care?" she spoke as she slowly stood up. Her tone was strange, Harry didn't recognize it, and she never had spoken like that before, at least not to him. She was extremely weak and before she gave a single step, she did a back-step and was going to fall. Harry reacted and grabbed her from behind her shoulders. "You shouldn't touch me," Hermione recoiled from his hands, moving so fast that her head began to spin and she had to sit back down.

Harry's gaze fell to the floor, along with his heart. This is what he had feared since he first realized Hermione wasn't on her usual seat in the Gryffindor table. She blamed him. Hermione blamed him for Ron's accident and she couldn't stand his presence, his touch, or his friendship. Could that be the reason why she hadn't gone out of her room, was she avoiding him? And the worst part, Harry thought as he lightly closed his eyes, was that she has every right to hate me. But he was not going to give up, he simply wasn't going to lose his two best friends.

With his mind made-up, he went and sat down next to her. Her head was bent down with her eyes closed. "Hermione please forgive me," the words came to Harry's mouth. "I know that because of me, Ron is now on a hospital bed," desperation possessed his voice. "I am aware that the spell was intended for me, that if I hadn't gone looking for trouble, like always, Ron would still be here..." Harry was never good at voicing out his feelings, but he couldn't bear it if Hermione stopped being with him. "I understand that you blame me, I also know...that to some point it hurts you even more...because he was your...boyfriend...but please...don't shut me out," in this part of his statement, his voice began to act strangely, it cut between words. "I can't lose...you...my other best friend...in the same week...please..." his voice stopped working, as he felt a great naught in his throat, he still wanted to say so much to her. To describe the absolute void his week had been without her. How the pain seemed to increase because she wasn't with him.

As he was searching how to word his feelings he heard the distinct sniffling, when he looked up he saw that Hermione was crying. "What are you talking about?" Hermione said, her voice weak and sad. "I am the one to blame in this situation," Harry was flabbergasted when these words came out of her mouth, but she didn't give him a chance to talk. "It's my fault Ron got hurt, if I had listened to you and gone looking for help...Ron wouldn't have been there. If I hadn't start running towards you without giving him an explanation," her tears became more frequent, but she continued. "And I'm sorry Harry, I am so sorry that because of me you lost your best friend, I know how much he means to you, I still remember how miserable you felt without his friendship in fourth year...I can never replace him as your number one best friend," Hermione began to have trouble talking, her breath was short. "I just can't face you after all of this, so please don't try to spare me by blaming yourself..." that's when Hermione stopped talking, her cries invading the silence. But she still had so much to say, she wanted to tell him how much she wished he could forgive her, to express the pain it was not to be with him. But before she could say anything, she felt the soft touch of Harry's hand over her own.

Harry still couldn't believe what Hermione was saying. He saw her hand trembling, he just wanted her to stop suffering and blaming herself. His own hand trembled as it moved by an unknown force towards Hermione's hand. "Hermione you aren't responsible of what happened, you must know that no matter what you could have said to Ron, he would have followed you anyway," Harry spoke wholeheartedly, Hermione's cries had calmed down, but she still wasn't facing him. "You've got to understand that I don't blame you of absolutely anything."

Finally Hermione turned to him, her eyes red, "You don't?"

"No," Harry stated, as the corners of his mouth tugged into a small tight smile, Hermione did the same, but Harry still had more to say. "For as I told you before, it was my fault-"

"You mustn’t hold yourself responsible Harry," Hermione interrupted him, some amount of strength returning to her voice. Her hand placed, with a gentle touch, on top of Harry's hand, that was already over her hand. "It is always Ron's -OUR- decision to follow you, aware of the danger we could face. You can't possibly feel guilty for the actions of other people."

Harry met her eyes, plain words she had spoken, but it was the belief she bestowed upon those words that calmed his heart. "Thanks," Harry and Hermione said at the same time, which made them let out a short chuckle.

A long silence followed, Harry realized that he still had his hand over hers, and slowly took it off. He righted himself in his seat; he had just taken notice of how much he had leaned towards Hermione during their talk. Hermione seemed to be doing the same thing, as she patted her hair.

"Harry?" Hermione suddenly spoke.

"Hmm?"

"What are we going to do? About Ron I mean..." she continued, she wasn't facing him again, her gaze concentrated on the scenery outside the window.

"I'm still not sure..." Harry began also looking out through the window. "But what I can promise you, is that we are going to help him out of this," Harry continued, turning towards Hermione. "You and me, we are going to fight this. We will do the impossible if necessary...but together Hermione, okay? Together. You are not allowed to push me away. We'll find a way to get Ron back."

After a moment of letting in all that Harry had said, Hermione gave him a sweet smile, "You promise?"

"Yes. And this one I do intend to keep," Harry responded, mirroring her smile.

And then it happened. Hermione got that look, the one that she always has when she wants to hug him, exactly like the time on his first year when she went to visit him at the hospital after his fight with Voldemort. And the strangest thing was that Harry's head wasn't throbbing, he didn't feel shocked, he didn't mind it at all...and the realization of this scared him. He cleared his throat and stood up rapidly. "Well, I better get going, it's getting late and you should be going to sleep."

"Oh, Harry I can't sleep," Hermione stood up, she was still dizzy, and this time she did accept Harry's help to lead her to her bed.

"You have to rest, Lavender has told me that you haven't been sleeping," Harry said with preoccupation in his voice.

"I can't...every time I try...all these strange dreams..." Hermione was babbling, sign that she was better.

"I know...believe me, it’s very difficult, but you have to try. Come on," Harry said as he pulled Hermione's covers and motioned her to sit down. "Just try to sleep today, and tomorrow will convince Madam Pomfrey into given you some of her dreamless sleep potion."

"But...I can't stop thinking..." Hermione argued, as she sat at her bed and covered her legs.

"Okay...what if we..." Harry said, not really knowing what to do to help Hermione go to sleep. Then something in her night table caught his sight. "What if we read?"

"Read?" Hermione asked, as she turned to Harry. He saw him lift her Hogwarts: A History book, the same he had giving her at Diagon Alley.

"Yes...we'll take turns reading," Harry said, his voice breaking as Hermione scooted over for him to sit down beside her.

"You don't have to stay here until I fall asleep-" Hermione began, feeling her face burning from having Harry sit down in her bed.

"I want to help you..." he simply stated, not wanting to look directly at Hermione, for fear that she would see how much he was blushing. He opened the book at the very first chapter, and tried to get comfortable. Impossible, he thought nervously.

They read for more than two hours, each one reading a different chapter. Finally Harry looked down; when he finished the chapter, and saw that she had finally gone to sleep. Her face was peaceful and her breathing was steady. He carefully put the book back at the nightstand and started to slowly move to get out of the bed without waking her up. When suddenly Hermione turned over and dropped her arm over his waist. "Don't...mmm...go," she mumbled; her voice drenched in sleep. Harry couldn't move, he was petrified to his spot, millions of thoughts running in his mind, his heart was thumping harder than ever. He tried to move again, but Hermione's hand didn't budge. "Please..." she mustered softly.

Okay...okay...okay...what to do? What to do? Harry's mind was trying futily to think. Okay, stay with her until she falls into a deeper sleep, then you can leave. His mind rationalized. He forced his body to relax and got himself in a more comfortable position. He tried so hard not to think about Hermione's body so close to his, not to pay heed at the warmth she irradiated. When he found that impossible, he looked down at her, her eyes puffy from so much crying, her little nose that had sniffled so much. He didn't want her to suffer anymore, he did intend to keep his promise, he would make Ron return to them, even if that meant having to see Ron and Hermione so 'comfortable' around each other. Harry steadily turned to her, placing his mouth on her forehead, he didn't move his lips, he just wanted to have a nice contact. I am not going to let you fall along with Ron, Hermione. This was his last conscious thought, for he fell asleep right after.

Ten minutes later, the door to the girl's dormitory opened, and Lavender peeked her head inside, she didn't see Harry or Hermione over the window and took it as a good sign. She walked quietly towards Hermione's bed, hearing the steady breathing. When she got there, she was surprised to see Harry and Hermione in deep sleep, Hermione had her arm placed lightly over his waist, while his hand was on her shoulder. Lavender was confused, but since Hermione hadn't sleep in a long time, she decided not to say anything. She walked to the one poster and silently pulled the last curtain so that when the girls came back they couldn't see that the Boy Who Lived, was sleeping right here in their room.

TO BE CONTINUED...

8. The Next Morning

While you were in a coma

<Chapter Eight>

<The next morning>

Hermione’s heavy eyelids were finally opened, after the thick rays of sunlight had basked in her face for several minutes. She stretched her arms high above her head, sinking more deeply into the sheets, enjoying the feeling of sleepiness still lingering in her body. She hadn’t slept in days, and she was content to finally relax.

She hugged the sheets tightly against her body, as she replayed the images she had dreamed, which were still clinging to her conscious mind. She remembered walking alone through a corridor; the walls were invisible, as her hands seemed to be placed in midair. The floor was uneven and even though she could see that her feet were bare, she couldn’t feel the texture of what she was walking on. Suddenly a bright light invaded the corridor, blinding her sight. Her hand rose to her eyes to cover the light hitting her directly, but between her fingers she could distinguish a person standing in front of her, the brash light prevented her from actually seeing who it was. They stood in complete silence for long minutes, before the figure started to move away, slowly at first and then gained speed. Hermione was still standing, she couldn’t move, and was screaming Don’t go! Please! She didn’t remember what happened next, or how it ended.

But something else was clear in her head; it didn´t seem as a dream, for she could not recall any image, just sensations. An idea stuck in her mind that she had been hugging something very tightly, something whose warmth extended all through her body.

Then something strange grabbed her attention, her bed was uncharacteristically messy. She had always been a calm sleeper, and her sheets stayed in place when she woke up, but right now, her sheets and covers were wildly strewn. She dismissed it rapidly, as the thought of Harry came to her mind. How she had made peace with him, of the promise they had made, but mostly, she thought about him. How kind he was for staying with her, how sweet his action was to read with her, how soft his voice sounded. When had his voiced changed? Last night his raspy voice seemed to flow seamlessly through the air. No longer a squeaky kids voice, but a lower more mature tone.

Hermione realized the description she was bestowing upon Harry´s voice and stopped herself from continuing, but she let out a content sigh before she could realize it.

"Hermione are you awake?" said a voice from the other side of the drape that surrounded her four-poster bed.

Hermione was startled, she felt like a little girl being caught doing something she wasn´t supposed to. "Yes Lavender," she responded pulling on the curtains, to see an already dressed up Lavender.

"Good morning then," Lavender greeted, offering Hermione an uncertain smile before she walked to her vanity to brush her hair.

"Good morning," Hermione replied swinging her legs off the bed.

Lavender seemed to hesitate, looking at her reflection on the vanity mirror, before she responded. "So you finally got a goodnight sleep?"

"Yes...I finally got some issues off my mind..." Hermione answered.

"Hmm," Lavender responded going back to priming herself up.

"Lavender..." Hermione started shyly, even though they had shared the same bedroom for five years now, she wasn´t very comfortable talking with her. "Thanks for talking to Harry...and for helping him to come and see me."

Lavender glanced briefly at Hermione. "Yes...well...I was worried."

"Thank you," Hermione repeated smiling, slightly touched by her actions.

Lavender turned to her fully. "You are welcome," she gave a short breath before continuing. "Harry said he was going to be right back."

At that statement Hermione reached for her watch, which was on her night table, to the right of Hogwarts: A History, to look at the time. It was already eleven o´clock in the morning; she had overslept. "Oh don’t tell me Harry came looking for me early in the morning?" Hermione exclaimed, groaning for missing Harry. He probably came to check up on her when she was still asleep.

Lavender stared directly at Hermione. "You don’t have to pretend with me Hermione; I know Harry spent the night in your bed..." she said rather dryly.

To say that Hermione was dumbfounded at this news was an understatement. "Wh...wha..." she couldn’t utter a question.

Lavender sat up from her seat and went to her trunk; she appeared to be looking for something. "I saw both of you asleep in your bed when I came back...you were lucky I returned first...I closed the curtains so neither one of the girls saw you...otherwise..."

Hermione couldn’t hear the rest of Lavender’s statement, the meaning of her words engraved in her mind. Harry had slept here...here in her dorm room...here in her bed...Now she understood why her sheets were so messy, but most importantly now she understood the feeling she had, about hugging something...Oh my God! Her mind screamed and she gave a short jump standing up from her bed. Did she gulp hug Harry?! In her sleep!! Her face felt as if she was in a hundred degree oven, but before she could register why, she needed to get this clear. "Lavender...no...umm...I...didn’t..."

Lavender turned from her trunk and cut-off her sentence. "Look, you don’t have to say anything to me, okay? I understand, Harry is your friend and he tried to help you..."

"But..."

"And after all he did help you, didn’t he? You finally got some sleep," Lavender continued picking up her robe and walking to the door. She stopped before she walked out. "Like I told you before, Harry said he would be right back, and if you could wait for him."

And with that she left the room, without letting Hermione explain, as if she could explain. Then she remembered the last words Lavender had spoken, Harry was coming back, and she looked like she just woken up, which she just did, but her mind wasn’t in any state to deal with simplicities. She jumped to the vanity, picking up the brush Lavender had been using, and proceeded to try and calm the jungle of her hair. She looked at her reflection and was very surprised, she looked too thin to be allowed, the pronounced dark circles below her eyes denounced her lack of sleep, and she was so pale she looked like one of Nearly Headless Nick’s ghost friends. What angered her most was her hair, a single week without brushing it correctly and it had returned to the bushy state of her early years. She gritted her teeth as she tried to brush away the knots in her hair, she’d better hurry up, Harry could return at any time and he would see her in this state and...she stopped, looking at the brush and her hand and let it go as if it was on fire. So? Her mind reasoned, as if Harry hadn’t seen her in worse state, and even if he hadn’t, he was her friend, what would he care how she looked?

She stood up, slightly confused about her actions, and slowly backed away from the vanity, until she was again sitting in her bed. There was a knock on a door, interrupting the cross fire of thoughts that were fighting within her mind. She turned towards the noise and watched mutely as Harry entered her dorm room, completely ignoring the exaggerated manner her heart began to thump. He had his back to her, and he seemed to be having trouble balancing something in his hands and trying to close the door at the same time. "Good morning," he greeted brightly. "I bumped into Lavender right now and she told me you had woken up. Did you sleep well?"

Hermione rubbed her eyes forcefully, trying to concentrate on the conversation; she turned to Harry, as she finally got a glimpse at was he was carrying. "What’s that?" she asked, ignoring Harry’s question.

"Oh...well since you didn’t wake up in time for breakfast, I thought that I would bring some breakfast to you," he said, rather shyly, as he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and walked to her bed.

Hermione was touched once again for his thoughtfulness. "Harry, you didn’t..."

"Oh no! Hermione, no you don’t," Harry interrupted her, thinking she was going to refuse the food. "You haven’t been eating, Lavender has told me so," he detailed as he gave her the tray. "And besides, I had a great deal of trouble in making you breakfast. Those house-elves didn’t want to let me cook. It got to such an extreme that I had to threaten them that I’d start giving away socks if they didn’t leave me alone."

Hermione smiled at Harry, laughing a little at his attempt of a joke, but she sobered up very quickly as she looked down at the steaming plate of fried eggs and four sausages, what appeared to be a blueberry cupcake was on a smaller plate, all complemented with a big glass of pumpkin juice. "You made this?"

Harry shrugged again as he sat down on her bed. "Well, I’m not exactly a chef, all Aunt Petunia made me do, was check that the bacon wasn’t burned. But I picked up some things, along the way. Of course I didn’t make the muffin; Dobby sent it to you."

"That was sweet of him," she said as the small smile still lingered on her lips. She was about to thank him, but something else was bothering her. "Umm...Harry...can I ask you something?" It was clear in her mind what she needed to know, but she couldn’t word the question.

Harry must have seen her hesitation, because he cut her right off. "Look Hermione, I’m sorry if I slept here in your bed last night..." Hermione was surprised at how he knew exactly what she was about to ask, "It’s just that...well...you fell asleep...and you...well you..." He wasn’t sure if he should say about how her arm just draped over his waist, and didn’t let go of him all night, but at the end he decided against it, "I also feel asleep."

"Oh..." Hermione wasn’t sure what she expected to hear, but somewhere within her heart, she had hoped that the reason Harry had stayed would be something completely different.

Hermione didn’t know what else to say, she was scolding herself for thinking anything else of Harry’s friendly intentions. A heavy silence fell in the room, and their eyes didn’t meet. Hermione was trying to say something to break the uncomfortable moment, when a strange object caught her attention. It was on the corner of the tray Harry had brought, inside a small glass vase. It had a long green stem, actually it appeared to be an ordinary rose, what was particularly strange was its petals, which had the texture and color of a piece of parchment, it even smelled like it. "Harry? What’s this?" she asked, while handling the flower in her hand.

Harry flushed slightly when he saw what she was holding. "Well...it’s supposed to be a rose..." he cleared his throat while he fidgeted on his spot.”That’s what we have been seeing with Professor McGonagall, how to transfigure a sheet of parchment into a flower...obviously I still haven’t perfected it."

Hermione smiled her first happy smile in a week. "Well then, we’ll just have to practice more, don’t you think?"

Harry also smiled, happy to see that smile again in Hermione’s lips. "Yes, of course, you can talk, Miss I-always-get-perfect-scores-in-Transfiguration."

"Well if you stick with me you can also turn into Mr. I-will-get-high-scores-in-Transfiguration," Hermione chided.

"Hey! What happened to `perfect scores´?" Harry asked playfully.

"I can’t promise miracles!" Hermione responded mock-angrily.

They shared a small laugh, as the tense atmosphere melted away. "So are you going to eat your eggs or what? Go on, before it gets cold," Harry prodded, bending his leg beneath him, so he could sit over it.

Hermione grabbed her fork and picked at the eggs; when she was about to take a bite she looked at Harry. "What about you? Aren’t you going to eat?"

The slight flush returned to Harry’s cheeks, as he scratched the back of his head. "Actually...I already did. Originally there were eight sausages on your plate."

Hermione looked down at her plate, to the four pieces arranged neatly on her plate and laughed; a more embarrassed laugh joined her eventually.

***

Four hours later, Harry and Hermione were standing still on the same spot they had been for more than ten minutes, staring directly at the big wooden door in front of them.

"You should think that this would come natural for us," Harry spoke, while blowing air through his teeth.

"I know. It would seem that we are the only students who have been at this hospital wing, in one way or another, every single year of their academic career," Hermione put in, as she shuffled her feet, her legs getting numb of standing in the same spot for such a long time.

When both of them had started talking, they found out that neither one had actually gone to visit Ron. Something was stopping them, plain guilt. Harry had come closest to seeing him, making it half way to his bed. Hermione had only come to the same spot she was standing in right now. They finally decided that now that they had fixed the guilt that was in them, they would go and visit him together. Five minutes later and they were still standing.

Harry had his arms tightly placed at his sides, but his fingers were twirling rapidly. Since they had stood there, Harry had an idea, but he was still thinking of acting upon it. All he wanted was to stretch his arm, just enough to capture Hermione’s hand in his. He just wanted to give her strength that’s all. This was the mantra he had been repeating all this time.

Hermione was getting more and more nervous. Neither of them was moving and she didn’t want to be the one to start. What was getting her more anxious was the fact that she could feel Harry giving her sidelong glances. She needed a little push to start this long journey. She dropped her head and risked a glance at Harry, she saw the velocity at which his fingers were moving and wished so much to take his hand, just to make her feel strong. At that moment she saw his arm moving, extending closer to her own hand. Hermione gulped hard, before she moved her own hand to meet his.

And just as their fingers brushed. "Ahh!!"

"Ahhh!!!" Harry and Hermione screamed in unison, after they were noisily interrupted; they jumped a few inches in the air, and moved a step apart from one another.

Madam Pomfrey had one hand on her chest; while she was fanning her face with her other hand. "Dear God, what are you two doing here, just standing...you scared me..." she was hardly able to speak, grasping for air. She had just opened the door of the wing, looking at some notes and she hadn’t noticed them until it was too late.

"We’re sorry Madam Pomfrey...we just came to see Ron, but-" Hermione started to explain but was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey, who just made gestures in the air with her hand and pushed both of them inside.

She immediately walked away, murmuring angrily, "Just standing there...some people are so occupied...we don’t pay attention..."

Harry and Hermione shared a glance before they took notice that they were already inside the hospital wing. "Well, I guess she helped us with our initiative problem," Harry said dryly, as he jerked his head in the direction of Ron’s bed.

Hermione nodded, understanding the sign. They slowly moved through the rows of beds, not making eye contact, the memory of what they were thinking still fresh in their minds. They finally made it to his bed, and their hearts sunk almost simultaneously. He was surrounded with complicated medical charms that seemed to be monitoring his life signals. His face was still white, and Harry thought his hair wasn’t as red as other times.

Hermione grabbed his clammy hand and breath deeply. "We are sorry," she said in a small, soft voice.

"For what happened to you..." Harry put in, grabbing Ron’s wrist.

"...for leaving you alone..." Hermione.

"...for not being able to protect you..." Harry.

"...for you having to jump in to save us..." Hermione.

"...for not knowing what they did to you..." Harry.

"...for not coming earlier," Hermione finished, cleaning the small tears from her eyes.

"We were trapped in our own guilt and didn’t think of anything else," Harry spoke summoning strength.

"But that will change from now on..." Hermione said, giving a significant gaze at Harry.

"Yes, we’ll do whatever we have to do, to help you out of this..." Harry continued, his voice getting raspy, his hand moving down to grab hold of Ron’s.

Hermione looked directly at Harry, and at the same time they reached across the bed for their hands. "We promise..." Harry and Hermione said in unison, as their hands linked the three. After that, Harry and Hermione seemed less pressured and nervous, and just spent the duration of the visiting hours talking to their friend.

***

The Great Hall looked unusually full to be a Hogsmeade weekend, Hermione noticed as she sat right next to Harry at the Gryffindor table for dinner that night. All of the students, even the Slytherins, turned to Harry and Hermione as soon as they entered the Great Hall. Since the night of Ron’s incident the mood of the entire school population had shifted, they were more quiet and nervous as they walked through the halls of Hogwarts. They were all taking extreme precautions, since that terrible night of the Triwizard Tournament, when Cedric died; the realization that they weren’t completely safe from the Dark forces had dawned on them. And know this, a Hogwarts student attacked right at Hogsmeade; they weren’t taking Ron’s accident well, even those who didn’t know him. Not counting the Slytherins of course.

Harry and Hermione had just been discussing how they had become the center of attention, once again, as they were assaulted by questions, and good-natured comments, when Ginny came in and sat forcefully in front of Harry. Her discontent was obvious in her features.

Ginny Weasley was not a happy camper. Obviously the towering problem that consumed her was her brother’s health. Ginny had always been closer to Ron, not just because of their close age, but because he was more of a friend than her other brothers; although that didn’t stop him from overprotecting her. The fact that Ron was now lying in a cold hospital bed, and that no-one, not even Dumbledore, knew what was wrong with him, was tearing her apart. But right now, the reason why she was so angry was because of Harry. Some tiny speck of her heart, had hoped that this tragedy could help to bring her closer to Harry. Since he would be as destroyed as she was, they could console one another. But since that day, all Harry did was walk through the halls in a zombie-like state, completely ignoring her when she would try to calm him at nights at the Gryffindor common room. And today, that he finally seemed to get some consciousness back to his face and eyes, he didn’t seem to separate from Hermione.

"Ginny are you okay?" Hermione asked, as she saw how Ginny wasn’t making any advancement to get some food. Hermione felt terrible for Ginny, the fourth-year student was obviously upset about what had happened.

Of course Ginny gave a long breath. She could never be resentful against Hermione, after all she was Ron’s girlfriend and she was just as sad as her. And Harry was only doing this, because Hermione was his best friend. "Yes...don’t worry, please," Ginny answered softly, as she grabbed a goblet and filled it with pumpkin juice.

Just then Dumbledore stood up from his seat and clapped his hands a few times to get the attention of the students. When the entire hall went silent he started, "It’s been a tiring week. Unfortunate events have occurred so close to us, that we can’t ignore them anymore. We have already sent owls to your families, assuring them of your safety. Because of last week’s incident, further Hogsmeade weekends have been cancelled," just some scarce groans were heard. "Of course this doesn´t mean that all fun activities are forbidden," Dumbledore made a pause, enough to glance around the four tables. Harry couldn’t help a small smile, Dumbledore always like to make his speeches interesting. "The faculty and I have decided to implement a few festivities in hope of elevating school morale," he continued getting total attention of every single head inside the Great Hall. "Referring to the academic side," at this Harry felt Hermione scoot a little closer to the table, "extracurricular classes will be offered every week, ranging from muggle sword fighting, to ballroom dancing; a list will appear at your common rooms with all of the activities offered."

Several small conversations spread around the room, mainly about what they wish they were offering and what could they take. "Are they going to give us extra credit?" was Hermione’s doubt.

Dumbledore waited a few minutes before continuing. "Also, this Halloween we are going to celebrate a bit differently, with a Masquerade ball, its little kinks and rules will also be posted in your common rooms," this news received several squeals, mostly from girls. "And if all goes well, we will repeat last years Yule Ball events," Dumbledore finished with the announcements, cheers flooded the air, girls made plans, boys glanced at their crushes and the gloom that appeared to be hovering over all of Hogwarts was lifted. Dumbledore was still standing, his familiar knowing smile in his lips. "And now let us continue eating."

"It seems very exciting," Ginny commented as she reached for a drumstick.

"I know. What kind of classes do you think they’ll offer?" Hermione asked getting that spark in her eyes. Harry couldn’t stop from snorting a laugh at Hermione’s response. "What?" she asked turning to Harry. "What’s so funny?"

"No comment," Harry responded still laughing, and looking at her. They didn’t seem to notice how they kept looking at each other even though they had finished talking.

Ginny never consider herself a jealous person. She had always received enough attention from her parents, and didn’t felt left out by the male dominance of sons in the family. Since her crush towards Harry, she never had felt anything remotely resembling jealousy, not even when he took Pavarti to the Yule Ball. She knew he didn’t actually like her; she was just the only girl in Gryffindor left to ask. But now, as she watched the strange connection Harry and Hermione were having as they were talking, how their gazes were still held even though they weren’t speaking, she was experimenting her first pang of jealousy. That’s why when that familiar voice was heard; she was actually a little relieved.

"So Granger? Are you still weeping for the terrible loss of your little Weasel?" asked Draco Malfoy as he approached the Gryffindor table from behind Ginny. "I was tempted to actually invite you to our `good riddance´ party in honor of Weasley, but of course it is at the Slytherin´s common room and no dirty Mudbloods are allowed."

"Why don’t you go to your own table and rot," Harry answered, barely containing his anger.

"How witty of you, Potter. I would think that you would be someone who actually wanted to attend the party, after all, now that the Weasel is gone, you have free-" Draco continued, but he was abruptly interrupted.

"OH, SHUT UP!" Ginny screamed as she rapidly stood up from her chair and faced a surprised Draco. She was never one for confrontation, she preferred to avoid them as much as possible, but this entire week had been horrible, her nerves were raw and she was fed up with Draco´s lame insults.

"Since when did you grow a back bone she-Weasel?" Draco asked taken aback at her reaction. Harry and Hermione shared his look of astonishment.

Ginny ignored his comment and continued. "The only reason why you are being such a bastard is because you are jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?" Draco countered, with a superiority rivaled only by his father.

"Jealous of Ron. Of how everyone is sad, or concerned for him. Because some way or another the students, and even the teachers feel his absence, but if it would have been you..." she stopped, impressed with this level of adrenaline flowing through her veins. In the spur of the moment she grabbed her goblet and splashed Draco with pumpkin juice right in his face. "Not even your mother would miss you, you stupid, egotistical..."

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, she was flabbergasted at the reaction of the youngest Weasley. Although she knew her comments were true, she had never seen Ginny actually talk back to Malfoy.

Ginny stopped to realize that almost everyone had looked at what she had done. It had felt so good to let out some of her frustration and anger at Draco, that she didn’t totally grasp what she was doing. Feeling every eye upon her, she spun on her heel and walked out of the Great Hall.

Hermione saw Ginny walk away, as Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors laughed out loud at a pumpkin-juice soaked Draco. It wasn’t long after the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs joined in the laughter, to see the prideful Slytherin so wet. Draco was fuming as he briskly walked out with long strides, not looking back.

Harry was still laughing when Hermione pocked him to get his attention. "I don’t think Ginny is feeling very well," she said softly to Harry.

Harry, with his hand still clutching his stomach from so much laughing, turned to her. "I don’t know, what she did was priceless, did you see-" Harry cut himself off when he saw the concern written on Hermione’s face. "Do you want to go talk to her?" he asked as he controlled his agitated body.

Hermione turned to the door and her gaze stuck there for a while. "No, I think we’d better give her some time to calm down. But we should talk to her eventually," she opinioned as Harry nodded in approval. "All of the professors saw what she did," she exclaimed as her eyes wondered to an angry-looking Snape. "This is going to cost many points off of Gryffindor."

"Maybe. But I think they are worth it," Harry proclaimed, as the heads of the rest of the Gryffindor boys nodded in agreement.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author’s Note: I wanted to thank all of the Portkey readers that have left a review. Thank you all, and I want to say that I am going to post the rest of the chapters in a really short time, all leading up to a brand new chapter almost a year in the making. So please review to let me know that somebody is still a little interested in my little fic. Thanks again.

Amp P.

9. A night in the common room

While you were in a coma

<Chapter Nine>

<A night in the common room>

The sounds of shuffling, and students hastily shoving parchment into their schoolbags could be heard as all but two pupils began filing out of their DADA class. The pair of them sat patiently on their seats, waiting for the room to be completely vacated.

"Ah, Hermione, it is good to have you back in my class- your informed and-er- lively participation was much missed," Professor Lupin pronounced as Harry and Hermione approached his desk at the front of the room, a twinkle in his eye.

"As I am sure the Gryffindors missed the points it gave us," Harry put in with an impish smile.

Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly, which always happened when receiving praise from a teacher. "Thank you, Profe-" she started to say.

"I thought I asked you to call me Remus, Hermione," Lupin stopped Hermione mid-sentence, with a wave of his hand and gave her a meaningful gaze.

"But...we're still in the classroom," Hermione mustered, averting her eyes from Lupin's.

"Ah, but not in class, so..." he left the sentence unfinished, looking at her expectantly.

"Thank you, Remus," Hermione responded sheepishly.

Harry couldn't stop a smile from coming to his lips- it was rather amusing to see how uncomfortable Hermione got from addressing a professor, and one she respected greatly at that, so informally.

"So, Lupin," Harry started, deliberately referring to Remus by his last name, which earned him an angry stare from Hermione and a light chuckle from the Professor. "Last week neither one of us got the opportunity to welcome you back to your old position as our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. And we've come to do just that," he stated.

"Thank you; you don't know how happy I am to be back," Lupin said, as he started to arrange some papers on his desk.

"But, I wondering-why did it take you so long to arrive at Hogwarts? Why did you start your classes just last week?" Hermione questioned.

Lupin stopped his rummaging and turned to face them. "On my way back here, after Dumbledore asked me to return, I...spotted Wormtail," he paused, waiting for the information to sink in. "I was hot on his trail for an entire month, but unfortunately I lost track of him right outside of Hogsmeade...I was too late. I was the one who found the three of you unconscious..." Remus lowered his gaze again. "I would have gotten him sooner, but I was waiting to see if he would lead me to Voldemort...but if I had stopped him, then Ron-"

"Please Remus, stop," Harry pleaded. "Don't do this to yourself."

"Yes, Remus, Harry and I have already shared all the guilt we can handle. Please," Hermione added to Harry's attempts.

"If it's worth anything, you have already done so much to help us since we met," Harry put in as his lips curled upwards.

Lupin smiled in return, slapping Harry's back. "Thanks, but you'd better get a move on, my next class is coming in."

As if on cue, students started to arrive and two said their goodbyes. "We have time before our next class starts, do you want to head up to the library to start our research?" Hermione asked as they began to walk through the halls.

"Sure, the sooner we get started, the better," Harry, answered.

"Well, okay then lets-"

Hermione stopped mid-sentence as Draco Malfoy appeared from around the corner and body checked Hermione roughly. "Move it, Granger," he spat, pushing Hermione hard to the side.

She was startled and almost lost her balance, but Harry's hands shot up to her shoulders from behind -just in time to stop her from toppling over. "Watch it, Malfoy!" Harry shouted furiously. "Stupid git," he mumbled to himself as Crabbe and Goyle stampeded by, trying to catch up to Malfoy. Harry had just enough time to pull Hermione a step closer towards him, just a second before the two could slam into her. "Are you alright?" he asked, his hands still on her shoulders even though the danger of her falling had past.

"That was strange," Hermione said aloud, instead of answering the question. "Malfoy didn't bother us; no sarcastic quips, no witty insults about Ron, nothing," Hermione continued, preferring to analyze Malfoy's actions rather than questioning her reasons for not moving away from Harry again.

"You're right," Harry nodded distractedly. He never knew that Hermione exuded such a sweet smell. Where was it coming from? Was it from her voluminous brown curls? Or was it from her soft skin?

Hermione barely heard Harry's answer as she concentrated on Harry's hands resting on her shoulders; his hands applied enough pressure to hold her up, but his touch was still light.

They remained in that position until Hermione felt ridiculous about having her back to Harry for this long. She took a few steps ahead and turned to face him. "Um...let's go then," she said, smiling nervously.

Harry simply smiled in return, equally nervous, and they made their way to the library.

***

Draco Malfoy was seething; he paced furiously through the halls of Hogwarts, not really paying attention to where he was going. He barely had time to push Granger out of his way. The most worthy explanation for his foul mood was that he'd never intended to bother Potter and Granger, nor any other student that scurried out of his way. Except, of course, one certain Gryffindor, the sole reason for his anger.

Draco was intensely absorbed in his own thoughts; he paid no attention to Crabbe and Goyle's wheezing after they finally caught up to him. "What's...wrong?" Crabbe choked out between breaths.

Draco immediately stopped, and without even turning to face Crabbe, Draco burst out, "Who does that she-Weasley think she is?! Nobody insults a Malfoy, least of all an insignificant little girl!"

Goyle must've known what Draco was talking about, as he began to laugh. "You were dripping," replied.

Finally acknowledging their presence, Draco snapped his head in their direction. "Shut up, Goyle!" he snapped. "Oh, but this is so not going to end like this. I'll show that stupid girl; I'll humiliate her to such extent that she will wish she'd never stood up to me," Draco continued, narrowing his eyes into dangerous slits, and balling his fists.

Obviously, the other two Slytherin boys weren't paying attention, because their silly guffaws continued. "Yeah, he was dripping -pumpkin juice all over his face!"

"I told you to shut up, Goyle!" Draco shouted, more forcefully this time.

"I'm Crabbe!" replied an indignant Vincent.

Draco remained silent as he regarded the two of them. "You look the same to me," he growled, continuing to march through the halls.

Not understanding the insult, Crabbe and Goyle groaned when they realized that they had to keep up with the same fast pace once more.

***

Harry thumped his fingers on the library table as he scanned the other tables, basically killing some time. Hermione had told him to wait here while she went to gather all the books they could start on. Since the library was Hermione's own little sanctuary, her home-away-from-home, he didn't argue; he knew full well that she would have an easier time looking for the books. His fellow Gryffindor, Colin, walked by, waving energetically at him. Harry returned his wave, and that is when it happened. When his memory triggered the smell of Hermione. But, what was it? He couldn't pinpoint that smell, but it was sweet without being overbearing, clean but flowery. Did she use perfume? But she never had done so before, Harry thought. Perhaps shampoo, or...Harry shook his head forcefully, desperately trying to shoo these thoughts from his head- so what if Hermione smelled nice? It wasn't any of his business, he only came here to try and find a cure for Ron.

A groan coming from his left was well received by Harry; after all, it served the great purpose of making him forget what he was thinking. When he turned, he saw Hermione coming; or actually, more accurate would be to say that he saw a pair of slim hands clutching a tower of books and robe-covered legs striding towards him. The groans must be coming from none other than Hermione, thought Harry, immediately sprinting out of his chair to relieve Hermione's weight. He took a good pile of the books, enough to let Hermione's face show.

"Thank you," said Hermione, grateful for Harry's chivalrous gesture. They both set the stacks of books on the table, and Harry began to read the spines to figure out where to start. Hermione, though, seemed to already have her plan mapped out. "So, I will begin reading with this stack first because I think they're the more important; we can begin when our last class ends, and you can go to dinner while I keep reading until Madam Pince throws me out...although, if I could borrow your invisibility cloak, I wouldn't have to go to sleep so early. I could stay late after night, and that would be perfect. And then I can sneak in early to read more before class, and lets see...yes, if I skip breakfast I can advance even more-"

"No," Harry said out of the blue, interrupting Hermione's quick planning.

Hermione was caught off guard, and took the opportunity to finally take a breath of air. "Come on Harry, you know I'll take good care of your cloak," Hermione defended, thinking he was referring to not letting her borrow his dad's invisibility cloak.

"I'm not talking about that Hermione," Harry said, pushing his book aside. "You are not going to do it like this. Yes, we are going to do our best in helping out with Ron's dilemma," he explained, extending his hand to place it over Hermione's in an attempt to clearly make his point. "We'll do all the research we can cram in during the day, we will even give up our weekends, but I am not about to let you sacrifice your wellbeing on this..."

At this, Hermione's feminist side wanted to retort along the lines of "you won't let me?!" but she understood what Harry meant. However, Harry had apparently not finished talking. "At this point, you are far more important to me...I mean..." Harry cleared his throat after listening to and wincing about how that had sounded, continuing with, "...your health is more important...after all, what would Ron say if he wakes up to find his 'girlfriend' in a terrible condition?" Harry finished, ignoring the tone he had used on the word "girlfriend."

Hermione was silent for a moment, absorbing what Harry had said, and giving more thought than necessary to how warm Harry's hand felt over hers. "You're right," she said with a sigh, carrying on, "Its just that this is my way of trying not to feel helpless, of not losing myself in the depression and sadness."

Harry squeezed her hand tightly. "I understand, and we just have to be strong, at least for Ron's sake. However, we also need to take care of one another." Harry smiled, adding in his mind, I already promised myself I was going to take care of you.

Hermione smiled in return, not knowing that Harry was thinking along the same lines as she was.

***

Two days later, Harry and Hermione came through the portrait hole into the common room at a very late hour from one of their daily camp-outs in the library. Madam Pince's feathers were getting ruffled from having to dismiss them everyday.

Hermione could barely keep her eyes open as she plopped down into one of the softest couches in the common room, Harry following suit. She was so tired from reading, and she hadn't even begun her homework. She shut her eyes, snuggling deeper into the plush cushions, leaning slightly towards Harry.

Harry couldn't believe he felt so exhausted from just spending his time sitting down and reading; his body felt as though he had gone through a few tough Quidditch practices. As he sat beside Hermione, he leaned his head back into the couch, and spread his arms along the length of the backrest.

As Hermione wriggled in her spot, searching for a more comfortable position, she bent one leg under her body to sit over it, and placed a cushion on her back. Her head came in sudden contact with the crook of Harry's shoulder, and it gave her the kind of comfort she never thought possible. Silently, she waited for Harry to react, desperately hopind that he wouldn't move away.

Harry could feel Hermione's movements beside him; he brought his hand to rub the bridge of his nose. His entire body felt tense even though he was sitting in his favourite couch. Suddenly, a new weight was added to his body as Hermione's head touched his shoulder. He felt her hesitate for a fraction of a second before leaning in completely. He remained still, waiting to see if she would reconsider and sit back up- but she didn't move.

As if suddenly the force of gravity had possessed his right arm, it slowly began to slide down the backrest until he was nearly touching her shoulder. He casually extended his index finger to investigate the territory, and when it wasn't shaken off, he gently rested his arm on her shoulder.

Suddenly a flash of bright light went off, almost blinding the pair. "Hey guys!" Colin Creevey greeted chirpily, lowering his camera and smiling at them.

This time Harry couldn't help but groan at Colin's paparazzi tendencies. "Colin..."

"I'm sorry, but you looked so very photogenic, cuddled to-"

Harry and Hermione's immediate movement cut Colin's explanation short. The two of them were trying to look very casual as they sprung backwards, moving away from each other. "We weren't-" Harry began.

"-cuddling, it just that we are-" Hermione spoke simultaneously.

"-very tired, from reading-"

"-all the time, and we just sat down-"

"-to try an rest for a minute."

The eldest Creevey was very confused. He was trying to understand what his fifth-year peers were saying, but they were talking at the same time, and on top of that, neither one seemed to notice they were doing so. Colin decided to change the obviously awkward subject. "So, have you guys decided what classes you're going to take? I suppose you would take something exciting, eh, Harry? Something to increase your abilities?"

Harry, who was now an entire cushion apart from Hermione, scrunched his face in confusion. "What are you talking about, Colin?"

"The extracurricular classes! You know, the ones Professor Dumbledore told us about," Colin was talking slowly, noticing their blank expressions. "Everyone's talking about it," Colin continued, stating it in a point-blank tone. "It's why the common room is at such a frenzy- the parchments containing the classes and sign-up locations appeared today!"

That was precisely when Harry turned to look at his surroundings, and gaped when met with the site of the entire Gryffindor population, buzzing like a hurdle of bees. Students were talking excitedly amongst themselves, some of them grouped together at the board that had appeared at the center of the common room. Student after student went to tear off a parchment for him or herself, and immediately a new parchment grew for the next pupil in turn. Had it been like this when they'd entered? Why had he failed to notice such... craze? Were all these people here? Harry turned to Hermione and by the lost expression on her face, he realized that he wasn't alone.

Harry, a little embarrassed for his obvious lack of attention, cleared his throat and sat up quickly. "Oh, yes of course- well, we just wanted to rest a while before actually deciding." With that, he made his way to the almost deserted board; all of the students had already picked up their own parchments.

Hermione made her most convincing face at Harry's statement, trying to smile at Colin, as he continued talking. "Well, I finally made my choice, and I am taking professional wizard photography, it says here that they're supposed to teach you innovative methods to develop the film, so that the actions of the people in the photograph show more feeling," Colin explained excitedly, his usual energy back. Hermione had difficultly keeping a smile away after that.

By the time Harry returned, baring two sheets of long parchment, Colin had moved on to his own circle of friends. Harry handed Hermione her own piece as he sat down at her side, taking care to leave a respectable space between them. "There sure are many classes to choose from," he murmured, scanning the list. "The Chemistry of Potions, oh yes, now that's exactly what I want to do-willingly subject myself to an extra dose of Snape," he remarked in a highly sarcastic tone.

Hermione smiled in understanding as she read out loud, "The Art of Herbology, The Magic of Beast Caretaking..." at this, they shared a look; obviously, this class would be taught by Hagrid, and they didn't even want to guess what sort of creatures he would be using.

"I don't understand," Harry interrupted the reading, "Aren't these the same classes we get everyday??"

"No, I don't think so, look at the small descriptions given: The Chemistry of Potions: learn the chemical reasons and explanations, find out why and how certain ingredients combine to create a specific potion," Hermione read.

"Oh, let's see," said Harry, searching for another description. "The Magic of Beast Caretaking: experience the wonders of caring for magical beast, raise them from the egg to the wonderful teenage years (you can keep them as pets, if your specific beast isn't a carnivore)," Harry turned to look at Hermione, grinning. "This is definitely taught by Hagrid."

"Look, there are other types of classes: Wizard Painting, Magical Musical Instruments, Magical Confection of Clothes, Professional Wizard Photography," Harry and Hermione looked at Colin simultaneously as they read the latter. "They also offer the Muggle counterpart," Hermione added.

"And there are clubs, too: The Quidditch Club, the Fencing Club-"

"Maybe you should enter that club," Hermione chimed in.

"I don't know," Harry said with hesitation. It was mostly based on which Professor was going to teach it. He really didn't fancy putting up with Snape when it was required of him.

"What? You think after your experience with Godric Gryffindor's sword and the Basilisk, you don't need further training?" Hermione taunted in an innocent voice.

Harry blushed from the look Hermione was giving him, and replied impishly, "You wouldn't be saying that if you had seen me madly twirling the sword as if it was a baton!" He continued to read from the list, saying aloud, "The Soccer Club! I bet that's where Dean is going to enter, The Drama Club-"

"Drama club?" Hermione interrupted, leaning over Harry's parchment to check it was possible. "At Hogwarts??"

Harry shrugged. "Well, there's also a Magical Cooking Club and a... Beautifying Club?!" Harry exclaimed, reading the latter option with doubt in his tone.

Hermione, understanding his tone and sharing his doubt, dutifully read the description. "'The perfect club where to share your innermost secrets of styling and beauty. Compare charms and spells to augment the outer beauty (selective membership).' Well, that's just great, why don't they just put 'only beautiful people allowed'??"

"I guess that's where Lavender and Parvati will be entering, then," Harry pointed out, as he watched Parvati excitedly talk to another group of girls.

"Oh, so you think they're beautiful then," Hermione stated hotly, a bit more acidly that she had intended.

"No! Not because of that!" Harry almost shouted, trying to defend his point; he certainly didn't want Hermione to think that. "Because they seem to be the type of girls who take great importance in such vain things!" he explained.

Hermione didn't answer, partly because she felt a little stupid for getting indignant about such issues. Seeing that Hermione didn't appear to be angry, Harry continued reading. "Modern Witch Club, the Wizard Chess Club-"

As Harry read this, the two of them fell silent. "Ron would have been there..." Hermione said softly, tearing her gaze away to look at the fireplace.

"Yeah..." was all Harry could contribute. It was the truth, though. Ron would have jumped at the opportunity a chess club would provide. Harry lowered his head at the thought, gripping the parchment tightly. The memories of Ron's passion for the game flashed through Harry's eyes-how intense Ron's gaze turned when he was playing, how his skill had helped obtain the Philosopher's Stone in their first year. Unconsciously, Harry turned to their usual table, where endless nights had been spent with Ron pulverizing Harry every single game; it was the one territory where Ron could shine above him. But he remembered with a smile, the frustrated look it gave Hermione when Ron would always call "checkmate," when playing against her.

Triggered by his recollections, he turned to her, and gaped. He was dismayed to see that the same, heart-wrenching look of pure emptiness that had occupied her very being during that awful first week, had returned.

Remembering his vow to keep her well, he scooted back to her. "So...what do you think about joining a club, or attending a class together?" Harry asked expectantly.

Hermione turned to him, her eyes watery. "You really want to?"

"Absolutely," Harry replied firmly.

"But- what about our research? Wouldn't it take too much time?" Hermione countered, rubbing her sore neck.

"Hermione, if we continue to research at this rate, we're both going to end up next to Ron at the Hospital Wing," Harry answered, his hand automatically moving to her neck to knead the cramped muscles. "We're abusing ourselves. Don't tell me that you're not exhausted?"

Hermione with her head-hanging limp, basking on the feeling of Harry's hand relieving the pain, said softly, "Yes, I am. I feel like I'm moving around in my sleep."

"Well, come on, we can choose something fun," Harry prodded.

Hermione smiled, but it faded just as quickly as it had appeared. She reluctantly moved an inch away, and Harry's hand dropped onto the sofa. "Oh Harry, its just that I feel like a terrible person," she started, the furrowing of Harry's eyebrows making her continue. "Ron is so important me, and I feel as though if I try to concentrate on anything other than his health, I'm putting him second on my priority list," she whispered, the small tears finally falling from her eyes, and leaving tracks as they slid down her cheeks.

Harry finally did what he'd been aching to do the moment Hermione had shed her first tears after learning that Ron was in a coma- gently wipe away her tears with his thumb. He didn't like to see girls cry, least of all, Hermione. "You know that isn't true. Ron is more important to us than anything else right now. And it is because of this that you have to take care of yourself. Think about it this way: apart from Dumbledore, Ron is counting on us to help, but we aren't going to be too much help if we went stark-raving mad from spending our entire time reading, or if we fell ill from not resting and not eating well," he explained kindly. Hermione, who'd shut her eyes the instant Harry's thumb had touched her skin, finally turned to him; she sensed that he had finished talking. "So come on, lets enter a class-it doesn't have to be very demanding, just something fun and distracting." Harry smiled warmly at Hermione.

That was all the convincing Hermione needed. "Ok, lets do it."

"Great! Now all that is left is to decide what classes to take. If you want, we can take something relative to Transfiguration," Harry added in the last few words not too convincingly; it was her favourite class, and maybe she would enjoy it, even if it meant they had to take another class with more work, knowing Professor McGonagall.

"No," Hermione dismissed the idea rapidly, hearing a sigh of relief from Harry. "I really don't want anything academic-"

"What did you say? Those words couldn't possibly have come out of YOUR mouth? Hermione, I think you hit your head a little harder that we originally thought," Harry pronounced, trying hard not to let out a laugh.

"Harry Potter, stop sounding so shocked," Hermione replied, giggling softly as she threw a cushion at Harry. "Besides, what I was thinking was more along the lines of..." Hermione trailed off, hesitating whether or not to say it.

This didn't give Harry much confidence. But it can't possibly be worse than Transfiguration, he rationalized.

Meanwhile, Hermione was still struggling with her words. "Well...it could be fun if you think about it...and useful too, for the rest of our lives..." Hermione watched Harry intensely for a moment before letting known her choice. "Perhaps we could take Ballroom dancing lessons..." she finally let out in a whisper.

Worse still. The worst. Ballroom dancing? Hadn't she seen the complete and utter uselessness of his feet when a musical pattern is involved? He still recalled with fresh waves of humiliation, how Parvati had steered him (he should say drag, but why make the embarrassment greater?) along the hall last year at the Champion's ball. The dance floor and Harry Potter never met eye to eye, so why not leave the situation in peace?

Hermione, sensing Harry's vacillation, decided to give it her most winning convincing speech. "Come on, now, think about it- do you really want to go the rest of your adult life, guided by your dancing partner?" Harry flinched at this-had it really been so obvious?

"I don't. That is how it was for me last year; it was very fun dancing with Viktor," her voice seemed to go lower at his name, continuing, "But he was the one telling me the steps, moving me around, showing off moves and techniques, and I for one, don't like to participate in any area without a thorough background on its subtle nuances," she finished off. "And...it complies with your previous conditions: fun, stress-free, AND no homework."

Harry gawked at her during her speech, amazed at how she expressed herself. But... dancing? Did he really want to eagerly attend a dancing lesson? That wasn't exactly in his definition of fun.

Hermione let out a great sigh as she saw Harry's blank face and lack of reaction. "Well...it was just a suggestion. We can do something else, if you like," she offered sadly, turning to the fire. She really wanted to learn this art form, just so that, next time, she could walk proudly towards the dance floor, and her dance partner and peers could be amazed at her dancing skills.

Harry also sighed, and responded as fast as he could. "No, no, of course not. Ballroom dancing is fine," he lied blatantly, desperately hoping his voice sounded convincing. "I was just wondering who could be our teacher."

"Really?!" exclaimed Hermione, excitement written on her face. "You really don't mind?"

Just seeing her face light up like this made the prospect of going through the torture of ballroom dancing completely bearable. "No..."

"Thank you!" Hermione squealed as she stretched her arms to give him a quick hug. "Thank you for doing this with me," continued Hermione, still strangely wrapped in what was intended to be just a second-long hug. She did, however, realize that Harry would have preferred a more exciting club or class, but he was joining this just to help her out. He really was a great friend.

"Lets sign up then," Harry stated, flustered after her unexpected reaction. Getting out his quill, he wrote, as clear as he could, his name at the right of the 'Ballroom Dancing Lessons' choice, watching silently as his name disappeared and was replaced by a "Thank you for joining the class."

"Well then, we should begin with our homework. We are very behind, even for you," Hermione said as she riffled through her school bag in search of her Arithmancy book. Harry mimicking her actions, only looking for his Divinations book instead.

They spent the rest of the night together, doing their homework and, in Hermione's case, special projects; it wasn't until the last Gryffindor had left the common room that they realised it was very late, and time to go to sleep. Harry walked Hermione to the door of her room, knowing full well that he'd gotten excessively protective; but, after all, she was all that he had left at Hogwarts, and he was going to go to the ends of the earth to protect her, if need be. That was the only reason.

When Harry slowly walked back to his room, the rest of his dorm mates had already fallen asleep, so he quietly changed and put on his pyjamas. Sinking into the cool bed sheets, he tried to find a comfortable sleeping position. However, it was quite impossible as he twisted and turned, tucked and freed, hugged his pillow and later threw it off his bed. Try as he might, he simply couldn't fall asleep. As he gazed fixedly at the top of his four-poster bed, he meditated, thinking that for two weeks now, this room, this bed, no longer provided comfort. Every waking minute he spent there (and he couldn't sleep, mind), he remembered that Ron was missing. The fact that his bed was empty, that he wouldn't be walking through the door at any minute, that he wouldn't be ranting about Snape and his Malfoy adoration any time soon- it all came crashing back. Truth be told, it had been a long time since he'd slept the whole night, and that had been when he'd fallen asleep on Hermione's bed...with Hermione next to him. Harry sat up immediately, before his mind could wander off into other unspeakable topics. He wasn't going to fall asleep tonight either, so he pulled on his bathrobe and slippers and decided to take a walk.

When he arrived back at the common room, he noticed that the fireplace was still burning with a soft orange fire. But there was another pyjama-clad figure seated on the big sofa just in front of it. "Hermione?" he asked as he walked to her. Hermione, with her pale pink flannel pyjamas, stared back at him. "Couldn't sleep?" Harry continued, sitting next to her.

"No," she responded, shaking her head for emphasis. "Dreams again."

"I couldn't sleep either," Harry confessed.

Hermione hesitated for a second before asking, "Could we read again?"

Harry smiled slowly- that was what he was going to ask her. The night before, he had been so transfixed by the rich timbers of her softly feminine voice that any other distasteful memories or ideas drifted away. Maybe this was what he needed to get a good night's rest again. "Sure," he answered as he reached for the book that was in her hands; he chuckled as he read the title, "'Hogwarts: A History' again?"

"We only got as far as chapter eight," Hermione defended hotly. "Besides, its my favourite."

"I know," Harry assured as he leafed through the book to the specified chapter.

Hermione was trying to cover both of them up with her fluffy blue blanket, but soon discovered that, because of the considerable gap between them, it was impossible to do so. In order to achieve the greater good, which meant the two being warm, she scooted closer to Harry, until she could position the blanket comfortably, covering both their laps. Still, there was something missing.

Harry could feel Hermione's movements as she tried to find a comfortable position. Recalling that she'd had the same struggle earlier that day, he reached across the sofa, grabbed a cushion and placed it at her back. She leaned back and relaxed instantly. "Thanks," she replied in a soft voice.

"Don't mention it," Harry answered as he turned his attention back at the pages, and started to read.

As the strong, rich tone of his voice filled her ears, she unconsciously leaned into Harry, resting her chin at his upper arm, so that she could read along. Hermione spent the rest of the night fighting the overwhelming desire to snuggle deeper into Harry's chest.

TO BE CONTINUED...

10. It's Time to Dance

While you were in a coma

<Chapter Ten>

<It's Time to Dance>

Hermione was walking to the Great Hall; she was coming back from a ten-minute library break she got after her Arithmancy class. She was alone because Harry was still in Divinations. Another unsuccessful search for Ron's cause and she was beginning to turn depressed again. But, dwelling on negative feelings wasn't going to help her right now. So she turned her mind elsewhere, to more positive feelings, she didn't need to think really hard to find one.

She recalled the sensation of waking up in Harry's arms with excruciating detail. She'd had a goodnight's sleep, and she could feel her body waking up from the numbingly blissful sense of relaxation. But there was a new feeling this morning-one she had never experienced before. It was one of inexplicable comfort, security and warmth, all combined together to create something searing and delightful.

When her eyes opened, she realized she was still in the common room, in the same sofa from last night. But her position had changed. Her head was now resting on Harry's chest, her hands resting lazily at his waist. The book they had been reading was resting on Harry's lap, while his hand was atop the open book. She could feel the weight of Harry's other arm by her shoulders. She was so at peace that she wanted to close her eyes and sleep a bit longer. All rational thought flew out of her head, and thoughts scattered, regrouped, and scattered again. But the tiny part of her brain that was capable of reason seemed to be aware enough to form a single thought: that they were in that position, in the common room and that at any given moment, any one of her fellow Gryffindors could come down and see them. Slowly but surely, she straightened up, but again came to an abrupt halt when her eyes, which she'd kept off Harry, broke her resolve and fell directly at Harry's sleeping face. His head was hanging loosely, resting his chin at his chest, but with a particular angle that made it possible for Hermione to admire his features carefully.

It was strange how much his features changed when he was asleep, but they seemed somehow softer. With his muscles relaxed, he appeared much younger, like when she had first met him. Except, he wasn't that little boy anymore, this much was obvious! He had mature features, strong eyebrows, and a perfect nose, all topped by uncharacteristically soft skin (for a guy). His face was just the perfect mix between an innocent child and a young man to make him so...handsome.

Hermione's lips curled up in a small smile when she saw his raven hair falling messily atop his forehead; so early in the morning, and his hair was already misbehaving. Even so, it still looked too silky to be allowed and Hermione couldn't stop her left hand from beginning to move to his hair (her right arm was still across his waist, but who was noticing?). Her eyes were still upon his delicate-looking skin, which now seemed to acquire a soft pink glow. She was aching to touch his hair or move his bangs away from his eyes, but just as her fingers were millimetres away, Harry let out a small groan and began to fuss.

Hermione suppressed a surprised gasp as she hurriedly dropped her hand. Flustered at the possibility of Harry waking up and finding her in such a compromising position, she moved her arm that was over his chest. Unfortunately, the button of her pajama sleeve apparently was caught on Harry's bathrobe or something, because as she tried to yank her arm rapidly, she managed to jerk Harry along.

Harry gave a surprised sound as his eyes popped open at the sudden jerk. He seemed less disoriented than when she had woken up, for as soon as his eyes opened, they focused on Hermione's sitting form. "Good morning," he greeted, his voice raspy.

Hermione didn't answer, as she was trying not to blush furiously, but it was a vain attempt. She was extremely conscious that she was seated as close to Harry as she could get without being in his lap, and that her hand was now stuck on his chest. Hermione was shocked, and waited for Harry to realize the position she was in, and push her aside. But he wasn't moving; he simply stayed in his position, watching her intently. As Harry held her gaze, Hermione doubted her face could ever heat up this much again. But then she remembered that he was probably waiting for her to answer. "Good morning," she made out in a tiny voice, while scolding herself for inventing false intention from Harry.

He seemed to smile, but Hermione stopped paying attention as soon as she noticed Harry's eyes had moved to her arm that was atop of him. "Umm...sorry for waking you up so brusquely...it's just...that...well..." Hermione tried to explain as she was pulling at her stuck sleeve for visual aid. "As you can see...the button...it got...stuck..." she continued, feeling completely stupid for her lack of eloquence or at least coherency to her explanation. Anyone who could hear her right now would ask if this was the same girl who could write a two-parchment essay without running out of synonyms. It certainly didn't sound like it.

Harry sat up a little straighter as he searched for the root of her button-dilemma. "Ah- here's your problem," Harry said seconds later, and he grabbed her wrist, not noticing Hermione's sudden intake of air. Harry slowly lowered his head to her hand.

Hermione didn't know what Harry was doing, for she could only feel. She could only feel the warmth speeding throughout her body, feel her head go light when the very side of Harry's lips lightly touched the exposed skin on her wrist. Her skin came to life with a blast of tingling sensations. She felt her entire body would explode any minute now from the white-hot sensation that was running through her veins.

"There." Hermione barely heard Harry speak through the ringing in her ears. But she did realize that her wrist had become distanced from Harry's bathrobe. "A thread was caught on your button," Harry detailed with the thin piece of blue thread still hanging from his mouth. Only then did Hermione realize that Harry had just cut the thread with his teeth, which was why she had felt his lips.

"Thank you," Hermione mustered, reluctantly moving her arm away, now that it was free. However, she didn't appear to be moving away from him.

Harry sat up, straightening completely and passing his hand through his fringes, spiking it more than usual; he was running his hands up and down his thighs, seemingly gathering up the nerve to speak. "So?" he cleared his throat, "it seems we..." he continued making a hand gesture signaling the sofa and the two of them.

"We-er- did it again?" Hermione surmised, clearing her own throat.

Harry finally turned to her and smiled. "Yes. We've been doing it a lot lately," he joked laughing slightly.

"Yeah..." Hermione lightly agreed as she played with her hands, "but...strangely enough, they have been the only occasions when I actually sleep...without any dream," Hermione continued blushing at her choice of words.

"Well, not that strangely," Harry put in, as he shifted in his spot to face her completely, "It's been the same for me."

Hermione smiled, trying not to be so overjoyed, Harry doing the same. Just then, muffled noises began to float down from the dormitories. Harry and Hermione shared alarmed glances as they began to rapidly straighten up the sofa. Harry started folding her blanket, while she picked up her book. "We better go, before anyone sees us," Harry opined; Hermione nodded her head in agreement, and they started to hurriedly make their way to the stairs. When they arrived to where the stairs divided, each leading to their own dorms, Harry handed her the blanket he'd been carrying.

"Well, see you later," Hermione said before starting on the stairs.

She was up to the eighth step before she heard Harry say, "Hermione." She turned around to see him standing still at the rest, hesitating before he spoke. "Same time and place tomorrow?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat when she realized what he was talking about. "Yes!" Hermione answered happily, trying to control the muscles of her face from making her grin so broad; realizing she must have spoken too rapidly she added, "Could we...please?"

She saw his smile turn a little nervous. "Of course," he answered. "It would be great," she thought he heard him say at the end, but he had mumbled, so she couldn't be sure.

Harry didn't say goodbye as he rapidly turned around and bounded up the stairs two at a time. This time it was Hermione who stood rooted to her step as she saw him disappear into his room.

***

Hermione hugged the books she had taken out of the library a little tighter to her chest as she remembered this incident. She couldn't believe it had happened just four hours before. Equally unbelievable was that she was going to do it again, tonight. She had actually arranged to sleep with her best friend. Well ok, not sleep with him as in...she stopped her line of rationalization. I can't believe that I'm actually correcting myself mentally. Shaking her head to clear her previous thinking, she continued walking. This isn't a suitable topic of mental conversation, Hermione thought. After all, it wasn't anything at all- she was just going to sleep with...argh!!! Stop thinking about it!!!

She had to concentrate on something else if she was going to keep her sanity for the rest of the day. As fast as it came before, another memory entered her mind, of the same morning.

After seeing the wooden door of the boys dormitory close, Hermione rearranged the blanket and book in her hands and continued walking to her own room. She had skillfully avoided a pair of first year girls going down behind a pillar, waiting until they disappeared. Carefully walking to her the door of the fifth-year girls dorm, Hermione glanced both ways before reaching for the knob. But just as she was about to turn it, the door was rapidly opened and Lavender came into her view. "Oh, dear God!" Hermione gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth to prevent her for screaming. "For Merlin's sake, Lavender, don't do that!"

Hermione was having a hard time reading Lavenders expression, for it was completely blank. Lavender's eyes went directly to Hermione's arms, which were holding the blanket and her book tightly against her chest. "You didn't sleep here last night," she said in an indescribable tone that Hermione didn't know if it was a question or a statement.

Hermione fidgeted in her spot, Lavender was blocking the entrance and didn't appear that she was going to move. "Umm, yes...I mean, no, I didn't sleep here. I was having trouble again, so I went down stairs to read, and I fell asleep on the sofa," Hermione explained, happy with herself for the explanation; it was, after all, a very good version of the truth.

Lavender didn't respond right away. "Really?" she answered with an unconvinced tone, one eyebrow raised.

Hermione was getting a little unnerved by Lavender's demeanor, it was as if she could see right through her, as if she knew the truth. Lavender opened her mouth, ready to answer her own question when a sharp noise was heard inside the bedroom. Hermione jumped as Lavender glanced coolly towards the room. "Parvati is in the bathroom," Lavender informed; dropping her arms from the frame of the door and standing aside, "if you don't want her to find you out, then I suggest you hurry," she concluded just before she walked out and disappeared down the stairs.

Hermione couldn't waste time following Lavender's steps as soon as she'd stepped out of her way, Hermione hurried to her bed, as Parvati's noise from the bathroom increased. She rapidly threw the blanket and her book, against all of her previous beliefs of proper book care, on the bed and shut the drapes just as the bathroom door opened and Parvati came out, already dressed in her school robes.

"Good morning," Parvati greeted brightly walking to her bed.

"Good morning," Hermione responded a little out of breath.

"Are you alright?" Parvati questioned while she grabbed her schoolbag from her bed. Fortunately for Hermione, Parvati didn't wait for an answer when she noticed their roommates's absence. "Where's Lavender?" she inquired with an edge on her tone.

"She already left-"

Parvati immediately interrupted, "Left? I specifically asked her to wait for me!" she exclaimed indignantly, as she headed to the door, stomping her feet in evident anger. "What's wrong with her?" Hermione heard her ask just before she closed the door behind her.

Hermione just sagged to her bed, relieved that she wasn't discovered by another one of her roommates.

***

Now, as Hermione continued walking through the corridors, she couldn't help to ponder that question also. What was wrong with Lavender? She had been acting very strangely indeed. She would have expected the news that Harry had slept in their room (and in her bed nonetheless) spread throughout all of Hogwarts at the first minute, but she was completely wrong. Lavender had kept the secret, she hadn't mentioned the incident to her all this time; not even to Parvati, who was her best friend, that was what had surprised her the most. And the fact that she hadn't was the greatest evidence that something was happening to her.

Hermione hadn't mentioned any of this to Harry, but perhaps she should. Harry...The tiniest little ping escaped her heart, accompanied with the strangest feeling that was suddenly urging her to look up. As soon as she conceded to this feeling, she found herself staring directly into the Harry's amazingly bright, emerald eyes, all the way across the hall, standing in the opposite side of the door of the Great Hall. She immediately halted as she smiled at him, highly doubting if he could even distinguish her between the throng of students that were walking into the hall for lunch. As she stood there, her gaze not leaving him, she was baffled at how his piercing eyes stood out so effortlessly.

When she was going to resume her walking, Harry smiled back.

He did see her.

***

Harry rearranged the strap of his schoolbag as he was coming down a flight of stairs. He then proceeded to rub his temples in a slow circular motion, trying to soothe away all of the mental strain that usually came along with Divination. This was one of the classes that he missed Ron the most, he mused, making his way to the corridors that led to the Great Hall, all alone. Ron's antics and mere presence made the entire experience bearable; they were always laughing and making jokes about Professor Trelawney's "inner eye" (not the best way to make good use or learn from a class, but who can blame him?). It was terribly depressing to walk out of the classroom alone as the rest of the class clustered into their small cliques (Dean and Seamus arguing about Seamus' new favorite football team, "East Ham? Please!") Parvati and Lavender giggling nonstop, usual behavior for them after class; although Lavender gave him a very strange look before she continued walking. Harry just shrugged it off as post-Divination stress on his part. He felt so alone, and not even Hermione was here. As soon as he allowed himself to think of her, the still burning memories of that very morning burst into his head.

For the fifth time that day (but who was counting?)

As Harry surfaced from the aching numbness of sleep, the first thing he felt was a weight, a never before experienced weight on his chest. But even so, he knew what was applying it even before he looked down. He knew because his senses were so blissfully accustomed to the person in question, from her light, sweet, smell coming from her hair, to the way her brown locks flowed to her shoulders. But at the same time his senses were assaulted with information he never knew before, like how steady and calm her breath became when she was asleep and once in a while let out a comfortable sigh, or how soft her hair actually was from the way it tickled his chin.

The very first night they had spent together, he had been so shocked to have awoken next to her, that he had moved away as fast as he could without waking her up, and he hadn't let himself take the opportunity to register the new sensations. But all of this was changing right now.

The sunlight coming from the windows basked happily on her hair, making it look a shade lighter. He slowly moved his arm from the back of the sofa to her hair; from so many observations his interest was ignited, and now all that he wanted to do was to touch it or at least run his fingers through it. Just for the desire of scientific research, to prove it softness. His hand traveled the empty space until he was close enough that her stray hairs tickled his palm. Just as he was about to actually touch it, he got anxious, what if she woke up? What if it felt so good that he wouldn't be able to stop? But his arm being so close couldn't stop from resting on her shoulder, his hand getting comfortable enough to rube her shoulder. Suddenly Hermione started fidgeting in her spot, mumbling incoherently. Harry got scared and wanted to immediately drop his arm, but then it would be extremely suspicious and she could notice, so he left his arm in its place. But that wasn't the extent of his arrangements as soon as he saw (and felt!!) Hermione's body straighten up from her sleeping position he rearranged his head and closed his eyes making it look as if he was still asleep. He felt rather silly doing all this playing around, but he really didn't want Hermione to start dreaming up things he could have been doing while she was asleep (you know how her mind works).

So he laid perfectly still, feeling the weight lifting and the warmth leave just as suddenly. He was expecting her to move away as soon as she realized the position they had woken up in (he was sure they weren't like that before they'd fallen asleep, he had made sure of that), but it didn't happen, she seemed to stay in her place, he could still feel her arm across his chest.

Minutes past and he got this new sensation, as if he was being regarded intently, he wasn't sure how could he even know this (his eyes were closed!) but he was certain he could feel her eyes traveling through his face. Suddenly, he felt terribly self-conscious of being subjected to such scrutiny (did he drool while he slept?), he could feel his cheeks grow hot and hope it didn't actually show in his skin. Feeling as though the farce had gone long enough, he commenced doing waking up noises (at least he hoped that is how they sounded). Originally he had planed to continue on with the act, (complete with a full blown yawn), but he was startled out of his performance by a sudden jerk at his chest. His eyes burst opened and focused immediately on how close Hermione actually as now that she was sitting up.

"Good morning," he heard himself talk, the greeting coming out automatically.

Hermione didn't answer, she appeared rather uncomfortable, but that only gave Harry the opportunity to gaze at her face. Her eyes were hazy, probably from lingering sleep, but the intensity of their brown coloring was not lessened. What he found particularly funny (or was it cute?) was that the fabric of his terrycloth bathrobe was marked into her skin where she had rested her head on his chest. He led out a small smile at the little markings on her skin, and was about to comment about it, when she finally answered, "Good morning."

Her voice was so low that he felt he was probably embarrassing her from looking so intently at his face (he couldn't stop!), so he forced his eyes to look elsewhere, until they finally came down to her arm that was upon his chest. As soon as he had done this Hermione started rambling, "Umm...sorry for waking you up so brusquely...it's just...that...well..." he heard the rapid and apparently nervous words of Hermione, as he felt the tug of her arm at the cloth of his robe. "As you can see...the button...it got...stuck..."

As Hermione was explaining he turned down to her arm, examining it to look for the reason why she couldn't move. "Ah- here's your problem," he said a little disheartened to learn that the only reason why she hadn't taken her arm off was because she was stuck. Without thinking that it was faster and more practical to reach for his wand and fix the dilemma magically, Harry grabbed her softly by the wrist, ignoring the feel of her skin, as he bent his head down enough to be able to reach the pesky thread that had wrapped itself around Hermione's pajama button with his teeth. His lips have never experienced a sensation before as the one when they came into contact with the soft skin of Hermione's wrist. His main purpose was to cut through the nasty thread with his teeth, but while doing it his lips brushed against her and it felt as if actual electricity flowed from Hermione's wrist to his lips. The contact was short-lived, but it was enough to render Harry's lips numb long after he straighten up. "There," was all his mind could spare, while trying to control the spinning of his head, "a thread was caught on your button," he could still hear himself talk, never even noticing that the thread was still within his mouth.

"Thank you," the voice of Hermione broke into his rambled mind, making him snap out of this fog-covered area his mind had put itself in, as he felt Hermione's arm lift from his chest.

Now Harry was nervous, after this short moment of their attention being diverted it was time to talk, to stir out conversation with the mammoth task of not showing how affected he was of being so close and of experiencing all these kinds of mind-altering emotions. He sat up, playing around with his hair, he lost control of his hands as he seemed unable to start. "So?" he said lamely, "it seems we..." that was all his intelligence could contribute, so he was left to sign language, pointing to them sitting at the sofa.

"We-er-did it again?" Hermione completed his thoughts, as she always seemed to read his mind (even when it was so clouded as right now).

Harry, feeling relieved that she knew what he was talking about (as if she couldn't) smiled gratefully. "Yes. We've been doing it a lot lately," he winced immediately for the poorly worded meaning, but tried to save it by laughing slightly.

"Yeah..." Harry heard Hermione answered as he glanced rapidly to see her playing with her hands, "but...strangely enough, they have been the only occasions when I actually sleep...without any dreams."

"Well, not that strangely," Harry couldn't help put in as soon as he heard was she had said, for it was exactly how what he felt, "It's been the same for me."

Harry was smiling brightly at Hermione for their shared feelings, but was interrupted as soon as he heard his fellow housemates begin to make noises upstairs, meaning they were finally waking up. What followed was all very fast as he declared that they should go before they could be found and cleaned the spot where they had rested. They ran together to the stairs until they were at the middle rest. "Well, see you later," Hermione said as she rapidly started up her side of the stairs. But he couldn't let her go just like that; he knew that the fact that he had only slept when he was with her couldn't be a coincidence, it was just some kind of comfort being with her. He needed to make sure it could happen again, regardless of what his mind opinioned (are you crazy?!). "Hermione," he called before she disappeared, he hesitated as his judgment tried to prevent him from making a mistake, but it couldn't stop him, "Same time and place tomorrow?"

The seconds that passed appeared as hours as he nervously waited for Hermione's answer. He didn't want to think he had made an enormous mistake in thinking she would want (or feel) the same. "Yes!" was that happiness he heard in her voice? "Could we...please?"

He let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding waiting for her answer, and he was so relieved but at the same time extremely nervous as she accepted. "Of course," he responded to her still doubting question, and couldn't help "it would be great," to escape his mouth. He only wished it had been too soft and mustered for her to understand. He couldn't bear with this strain in his face to try to control the smile so he turned immediately and went up the stairs two at the time, desperate to get away from her piercing gaze.

As he cracked the door opened silently, to take a look into his dormitory, he was instantly glad all his roommates where such sleepyheads, none of them had woken up yet, so it wasn't any problem to sneak in and climb into the bed, as if he never left the night before.

***

So now, he didn't recollect how many hours later, he was weaving blankly between the rest of the student population, with his fingers touching his lips. And guiltily, remembering how it had felt, that miniscule second he had 'kissed' Hermione's skin. Hermione...He couldn't stop her name to coming to his mind so easily. This morning had stirred every possible emotion that existed within his being and at the same time woke up never before experienced feelings. Just as he was pondering the fact, he felt a strange tug at his stomach, it wasn't hunger that was for sure, but something else, a sensation that alerted him to look up. As he obeyed, he came in straight contact with Hermione's chocolate eyes and was so surprised of how they didn't seem to lose the intensity in them just because of the distance. She was all the way across the hall, she appeared to be smiling but he couldn't be sure, he just couldn't stop staring at her. When he saw her start walking, he smiled at her, to try to grab her attention.

Mission successful.

***

Harry was walking as slow as he ever done so in his life. And it wasn't because it was late Saturday and he had spent almost every waking moment in the library or because the other part of the day he had spent it sat down on the painful chairs of the hospital wing talking to Ron about this year Quidditch strategy. It wasn't even because he was going to attend a class on a Saturday afternoon. No, the reason for his excessively slow speed was because the class he was heading for right at this minute was Ballroom Dancing (shudder). If someone had told him two weeks ago that he was going to be walking steadily, without the use of the Imperious curse, to Ballroom dancing class, he would have called him as demented as a salary-demanding house-elf, and sent him committed to St. Mungos immediately.

But that was where he was heading. And in every step he took, he asked himself why was he even doing this? But he knew the answer, and it was walking five steps in front of him. Hermione Granger, his best friend. It had been a great sacrifice on his part to accept, (Quidditch club sounded so alluring) yet he couldn't help the decision he made. Hermione's face had immediately lit up when she mentioned her performance in the extra-classes. It had been a long period of time since her features had gotten that excited spark, and he was going to do everything in his power to see her like that again, even if it meant making a complete fool of himself in the dance floor.

Hermione was walking with her academic-style pace (which basically meant hurriedly and a determined face) not wanting to be late for their first class; a spring in her set in anticipation. Unfortunately, Harry didn't seem to share her excitement. "Harry! Hurry up!" Hermione exclaimed, turning around to face him.

"I am hurrying," Harry replied, not modifying his speed.

Hermione's hands went to her hips, trying not to get exasperated (but what impression would they make if they were late!). "You are walking with the speed of a slug."

"A very fast slug," Harry retorted, evoking his most innocent tone.

A fleeting smile went by Hermione's lips before being replaced by a very stern scowl. "Don't be smart with me, Harry Potter," Hermione reprimanded, walking purposely towards him and grabbing him firmly by his wrist pulling him to achieve more velocity. "Now, hurry up or we are going to be late."

Ignoring the warm feeling he received with Hermione's touch, Harry added weight to his feet (he wasn't going to make it easy). "Oh, and who would want a calamity like that to happen?" he expressed as sarcastically as he could.

Hermione didn't answer, she just readjusted her hands for better leverage to pull him with more strength all the way to their assigned classroom.

The extra-curricular class was to be taken in a multi-purpose classroom Harry had never been in before at the northeast part of the castle. Harry believed it to be magically amplified, for it could not stretch to its total volume without taking up the space of the adjoining rooms. When they finally made it to the class (five minutes early, thank you very much), Harry was surprised to see a larger party that what he was expecting. There were ten students, but that was still fairly larger than his expectation. As soon as they made it through the large oak door a familiar pair of Gryffindors hailed them wildly. Hermione waved amiably at Ginny as they headed towards her, but Harry found it quite difficult to erase the impolite dumbfounded look on his face when he saw Neville Longbottom standing beside Ginny. Neville was famous for his lack of coordination, so he would be the last person Harry expected to see in a dancing lesson (unless he counted himself). When asking Neville about his reasons, as nonchalant and unsuspicious as possible, he was answered with a very logical explanation (in Neville's case), "Gran made me," he said gloomily, "said it was an important talent for a well brought up gentleman to have."

When questioned by Neville about his own reasons for attending this particular class, Harry got suddenly interested in Trevor's health, so he questioned him about it. After a short rendition of failed anti-loss spells, the door to the classroom was burst open and their teacher appeared.

"Hello, my children."

"Oh, no," Harry barely heard Hermione's lament over his own groaning. This wasn't possible.

"Well, the stars have smiled upon us today, to let us come together," Professor Trelawney said as she walked with a forced mysticism to the middle of the room. "For those who don't know me, I am Professor Trelawney, and I teach the wonderful but often misunderstood art of Divination," she pronounced with a flourish of her hands, "but from now on I will be your instructor in the art of dancing."

Harry was about to volt from his spot (nothing was going to make him go through this torture), when Hermione's hands grasped his arm and gave him a resigned small smile, immediately followed with an eye roll. Harry smiled back and stood in his place for the rest of Trelawney's speech (Ok, so some ONE could make him). After having to endure Trelawney's usual workings, involving predictions of ill fate to the younger students woven together with historical fact of the dance, she finally deemed it fit to start the class. "Well, children I think it is time to begin; and our first task is to arrange in partners..."

Harry stopped hearing Trelawney's voice as soon as she had said the word partners. He glanced rapidly at Hermione from the corner of his eyes. They had never officially established that by attending this class together meant that they were going to dance together, be partners. But it was a given, right? Did he have to ask her? Or did he...

"Mr. Potter!" Harry was woken up from his mental debate by Trelawney's familiar reprimanding tone.

"Yes?" Harry asked as he saw that the rest of the class have divided into boys and girls and lined up from short to tall.

"Would you be so kind as to join us and take your place in the line according to your stature," Trelawney spoke trying to control her displeasure.

It turned out that Harry was just one or tow inches smaller than Neville, so he stood in front of him watching Hermione placing herself just beside him. All right, so this was it, he was as ready as he could ever be. He was prepared to give this venue of ballroom dancing his entire attention. He wasn't going to let Hermione down.

"Harry?" the voice of his partner broke through his thoughts.

Harry again had become so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn't taken notice that they had already been put into couples. "Ginny?" he said trying not to sound as surprised as he felt, "But...I thought...that..." Harry blabbered as he searched the room for Hermione. She immediately caught his gaze with a long face, recovering fast into a calm smile to Neville, who was her newly appointed partner. "Wasn't Hermione-" he started pointing towards Hermione with a bemused look.

"Oh, no," Ginny rapidly interrupted with a wave of her hand, "it turned out that I am a few inches shorter than Hermione. So that makes me your partner," Ginny continued controlling the joy from being so obvious on her face.

"Ah," that was all the response he could muster, conveying in a single syllable all of the disappointment. However Ginny didn't seem to hear or notice such emotion.

"Your attention, please," Trelawney raised her voice. "We are going to start with one of the three rhythms of social dance; the slow rhythm."

Harry couldn't believe this, now above all he was going to dance with Ginny? "Now if you all stand in a straight line at arms length from one another..."

Harry was having a hard time concentrating in Trelawney's instruction. What was the point? He only joined this stupid class for Hermione's sake and now he wasn't even going to dance with her? He suddenly felt the weight of Hermione's gaze upon his face and turned to her. This time she didn't smile, she just maintained his steady gaze, trying to telegraph him her feelings.

"A slow is very simple and we are going to practice first stepping side by side." Trelawney was lecturing while walking by the line. "Stand with your feet together...yes, just like that." Trelawney stood up into the platform that was in the front of the class.

"Now, starting with you left foot you go 'side-touch, side-touch'," she explained as she did the steps, pulling her robes to the middle of her calf so that they could see the movement, "on the 'touch' you bring your free leg alongside of your supporting leg, but without transferring your weight." She did a half turn so that she could face the group with the usual extravagance she made in every one of her movements. "Understood?" she signaled extending her hands. The younger students were still a little shock about her entire persona, but they still nodded. "All right then, let's do it. Altogether now, side--touch, side--touch..." she pronounced as she did the steps along the students.

Meanwhile Harry had heard every detail of Trelawney's instruction, and was a little relieved that it wasn't all that difficult. But he still didn't move. While the rest of his pairs were imitating the professor's steps, his feet remained planted to the floor. Some part of his resolve had fizzled away as soon as he saw who was his partner, now that Hermione wasn't going to be with him, he didn't feel obliged to even try.

"Mr. Potter, you are getting behind!" Trelawney sing-songed as she continued with the steps.

Hermione craned her neck towards Harry and saw his discontent. After asking Neville for the favor, she traded places with him, so that she ended at Harry's side. "All right, Harry?" she asked sweetly.

Harry turned around surprised to see her suddenly beside him. "A little," he responded as the moment grew more bearable.

"The step isn't as difficult as you thought?" Hermione surmised.

"It doesn't appear so," he answered, a smile coming to his lips.

"Well, let's see then," Hermione challenged, still holding her smile, but now with an eyebrow raised.

Harry didn't respond as his attention was now engrossed in doing the steps. "Left-touch-right-touch." Hermione followed his step saying the words out loud to guide them. Harry found them easy to follow, but grace was still absent from the movements.

"Very well darling, very well done," cried Trelawney from her spot, "I have foreseen your rapid advance my children. So be not surprised if we continue on to more complex steps. Now we are going to walk around the room, starting on you left foot," Trelawney continued as Harry got prepared to not look silly. "You will step forward on 'one' and draw your feet together at 'two', and then will do the same with your right foot." Trelawney walked around doing the step a few times. "Come on then, one-two, one-two."

On this round Harry took a different approach, for rather than look at Professor Trelawney's feet, he turned towards Hermione, locking his eyes on hers. She responded and this time mouthed the counts. And he had to admit it to be a much better site than Trelawney's 'foreseeing' feet.

They made several repetitions and walked around the room, practicing the steps, until they were better acquainted to the form.

"Perfect children, just as it came to me in my vision," Trelawney proclaimed, ignorant of the general eyeroll that was becoming common between the students. "Now we are going to study the correct Ballroom Dance Positioning. You need to face each other, your shoulders parallel," Trelawney, who was walking through the lines, said while she arranged Hermione's shoulders (boring her many rings into them in the process). "Your bodies should be offset by ½ body distance to your own left," she proceeded to guide Ginny the said distance, while pulling her a few steps away from Harry ("too close dear," Harry though he heard). "Now boys, you place your right hand just below the woman's shoulder blade, fingers together and hand slightly cupped." Trelawney was having a hard time from keeping Neville's hand from trembling as she placed it on Hermione's back.

Meanwhile Harry had made the resolution of taking this stupid bloody class seriously, to show Hermione that he could dance. So he forced himself to place close attention to every detail, and do the best dancing he could. "Your right arm positioned away from your body, elbow pointing slightly to the side. Girls, your left arms should rest gently on the man's upper arm," her lecture continued as she helped a third-year girl with her grip, "with your thumb along the inside of his arm and your fingers draped over his shoulder. Your right hand rests in the palm of the man's left hand." Some of the girls were a little reluctant to touch hands, but not Ginny. She eagerly waited the touch, and controlled her breathing as she felt as if she was going to explode. While Harry's eyes made a quick brush towards the hand inside Neville's palm. "The joined hands should be raised to the eye level of the shorter partner." The instructions seemed to be over, so Trelawney just passed by the couples one last time correcting some little aspects of their forms. "Now that everybody is positions, lets start walking around the room with the slow. Remember to always stand ½ body distance, your right foot should be pointed in between your partners feet, so you don't step on each other's feet. Gentleman will start with your left to the front, the ladies same foot to the back, on my saying you will change direction. Altogether now, one-two..." The couples started giving their first steps as Trelawney guided the rhythm by clapping.

Harry had zoomed in on Trelawney's voice, fastidious as it may be, concentrating on moving his feet atone with her counting. Until now he wasn't having any problem keeping up. He hadn't stepped on Ginny's feet and was following the rhythm swiftly. He had to admit to be a little proud of himself for not being a total daft with the simple steps; he hoped Hermione could see his progress. He didn't seem to notice, as he stared directly at his feet the entire duration of the exercise, the small proud smile that adorned his face.

Ginny Weasly couldn't be more proud of herself, if she was made Head Girl right now in her fourth-year. She was at the moment in the position she had dreamed on being since she first met this stray, lost raven-haired boy when she was ten-years-old: and that was in his arms. And all because of great detective and investigation work on her part. As soon as the class parchments had apparated in the common-room, she had kept a watchful eye for Harry. When she saw him, after some time, finally grabbing a parchment, she immediately went for the attack. As Harry and Hermione sat in the sofa discussing about the possibilities, she was crouched in the back in her "tying-her-shoe" position, which gave her the perfect excuse to listen in to their debate without being obvious (OK, so she was kneeled tying her bloody shoe for more than ten minutes, but nobody noticed). She was certain that Harry would chose something difficult like sword dueling or something boyish like Quidditch club, and then she wouldn't be able to be in a class with him. So she was elated when they finally decided on Ballroom Dancing. Of course that didn't guaranty anything, so she had to rely on more tricks to be partnered with him. Which was as simple as bending her knees slightly to be smaller than Hermione. And now here she was, her hand in his, such comfort it brought her, just to have him touch her shoulder blade. The rush of having a four-year dream come into reality was going to her cheeks. She could hardly concentrate on the movements of her feet when she saw the small content smile on his beautiful lips.

"Ow, Neville my foot!" Hermione exclaimed for the fourth time since they began. She was having such a hard time, and she had to confess, felt irked for having so many problems with her partner. She knew the steps and could follow them easily, but Neville was stumbling and fumbling. Although, perhaps that wasn't the main reason for her discontent, maybe JUST maybe, it was because Harry seemed very happy to be dancing with Ginny. Did he find it so agreeable that he was smiling? The thought brought a frown to her features that only Neville's incessant stumping could distract her. "Ow! Neville that was my toe!"

"Sorry!"

"That was my other toe!!!"

"Mr. Longbottom, remember half body! Half body distance or you are going to stomp Miss Granger's feet flat!" Trelawney seeing Hermione vexation went to attend her, even though she wasn't her favorite student (her attitude alone for the art of Divination proved a flawed character), she had to control the situation of Neville's feet.

After various minutes of practicing the slow in partners, the class was over. "Excellent progress boys and girls. And now that you are familiar with the slow, which is the basic step of the Waltz, next class we are going to practice more complex but elegant steps. So may the fortune smile upon you to attend tomorrow's class," Trelawney waved as the students separated and started walking to the door. "Oh and Mr. Longbottom, be prepared, for a change is coming your way."

"Oh, no," Neville groaned as he dejectedly made his way towards the common room, "now what?"

All of the students scattered through the halls, while the four Gryffindors stayed together; Neville amazingly walking in front of the group, Ginny was keeping her pace with Harry, trying to engage him in a conversation, meanwhile Hermione was staying behind.

While nodding in automatic agreement to what Ginny was saying, Harry turned his head searching for Hermione, until he noticed she was left far behind. "I'll catch up to you later," said Harry in form of good-bye to Ginny before turning around and heading back towards Hermione. After staring numbly at Harry, Ginny turned and continued her walk.

Harry walked several steps behind and saw that Hermione was walking extremely slowly, he smiled as he spoke, "Hermione, you are walking with the speed of a slug."

Hermione just caught up with him as she smiled. "A very fast slug," she replied smugly.

Harry laughed until he saw the reason why Hermione have been so slow. "You are limping," he pronounced in concerned as he stepped beside her and tried to grab her arm.

"I am not!" responded Hermione hotly, avoiding his grasp, "I am just not applying the full weight of my body to my feet."

"Which is the meaning of the word limping if you look for it in the dictionary."

"Since when are you Lord of the Dictionaries?"

"Ok, so I haven't actually picked one up. But I can still see you are limping."

"Fine, fine! Neville stomped my toes to death! Are you happy now!?!" Hermione answered getting angry of admitting her pain.

"Now why would that make me happy?" Harry asked in a serious tone that made Hermione feel ashamed of hiding. "Do you want to go to Madam Pomfrey and get an anti-swelling potion?"

Hermione thought for a second, but really didn't want to explain her reasons for her ailments to the school nurse. "No, that's alright. It just a little swelling, I prefer to wait it out the Muggle way."

"Ok then, if that is what you want, why don't you go to the common room bring everything for our nightly reading session, while I go to the kitchen."

"Alright, but why are you going to the kitchen?" asked Hermione perplexed.

"I believe that the Muggle way can also involve to soak your feet in hot water. I'll go and ask Dobby for a big container and I'll meet you at the sofa."

"Harry, you really shouldn't-"

But Harry was already running towards the kitchen, so he didn't let Hermione finish her sentence.

TO BE CONTINUED...

11. The Rules

While You Were in a Coma

<Chapter Eleven>

<The Rules>

All right, he had to admit that he did learn the steps from the class before (let's not talk about the finesse of his movements right now) and although he was paired up with Ginny he didn't have as horrendous an experience as he had expected. But these weren't reasons enough to be back in Dancing class on a Sunday! Wasn't there a wizard law against enforced dancing on a Sunday?! So there he was again, back in the multipurpose classroom with the other eleven students, Hermione included of course, reviewing what they had seen last night before they could begin with a new topic.

"As promised, we are going to enter into the Waltz. So to start we'll need a rope..." The confused gazes of the students after Professor Trelawney's weird proclamation, was answered after she transfigured a rope and levitated it parallel to the straight line of students, just a few inches below their heads. "Now you need to go underneath the rope but without ducking or bending at the waist. So that means that you step forward with your left foot at 'one', bending at the knees to clear the rope. When you are beyond it, you straighten your knees and step with your right foot to the side at 'two' and draw your feet together at 'three'. This is called the 'rise and fall' of the Waltz and we need to get comfortable with it. So on we go children and one-and-two-and-three..."

This exercise was a more complicated for the students to do. On Harry's part he was having a hard time coordinating the bending of his knees. They probably spent double the time mastering it.

"We are halfway to the Waltz, now we are going to practice the Left Box Turn; it consists of 4 half boxes, and with each new half box partners pivot ¼ turn to their left..." She stopped when she saw the utterly perplexed looks she was receiving. "Don't fret my children, for the many ways of divination all had foreseen your trouble with this step and that is why I am well prepared movendi pasus," and with a wave of her wand, magical brightly coloured footsteps appeared in front of each student, pink for the girls and blue for the boys. "As soon as you give your first step the footprints will begin moving according to the rhythm. All you have to do now is to follow them. Now, pair up please!"

Ginny was already in front of him even before Trelawney finished, while Harry was still gazing at the pair of blue footprints sparkling at his feet.

"Get into yesterday's practiced positions..."

Harry's memory started working as his hands moved automatically to his partner's shoulder blade.

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom, your predestined change will take place at this moment..." Harry was only half-listening to Trelawney's babble (as accustomed with everything to do with her) as he replayed the difficult steps they had just been thought. "...It has been deemed you will do better with different person...Mr. Potter?"

"I am not dancing with Neville!" Harry responded hotly after hearing the last of her sentence, his mind still confused with numbers and turns.

"I was not referring to you I assure you," Trelawney answered, her mystic voice getting tense with each word she spoke. "What I meant is that if you would trade partners with Mr. Longbottom."

"Oh..." Harry intelligently answered after blushing furiously for his stupid mistake and for another unknown reason.

"But Professor..." Ginny, who appeared to be the only one of the two couples who could still put two words together, interjected.

"Don't worry, Miss Weasley, the stars don't lie to me and they had spoken of your compatibility at dancing with Longbottom," Trelawney said raising her voice so the rest of the students could hear her. "And besides, I think you are taller than Miss Granger, your stature fits better with Mr. Longbottom," she added in a low tone so only the two couples could understand.

Trelawney had to pull a reluctant Ginny away from Harry and guide her all the way to Neville. Meanwhile, Harry was unusually interested in the slight dust that covered the floor of the classroom and at the strange patterns the many feet dancing across it had created. He only stopped when a familiar pair of trainers appeared near his sight. When he finally looked up, he was surprised to see Hermione just as immersed in the dust patterns.

"all right children, we are going to start, please take your positions and let's begin..."

Everything was fine, perfect, all right...(damn his lack of vocabulary) but he had explained his main idea. He had done this before, and fairly well if he was allowed to ruffle his own feathers. So, naturally there was nothing to be afraid of; he knew the steps, the technique and had practiced enough for him to be secure of his movements...So if this was all true, why did his hand start trembling as soon as it begun his trajectory to Hermione's shoulder blade?!?!

If Hermione was to be true to herself, she had been totally disconcerted when it turned out Neville was to be her partner. Because as soon as Harry had accepted to attend ballroom class with her, she had imagined dancing along the Great Hall with Harry and she couldn't envision another partner. So why, after finally being paired up with him, did a huge naught formed in her throat as she lifted her hand to be cradled on Harry's.

When the actual moment when they touched came, so many emotions came flooding down towards them that neither of them could muster a word nor move for what seemed like hours.

It was impossible for Hermione to describe the feelings that Harry's hand had erupted with a single touch. Warm, soothing, electric, all seemed short. But what she did know was that it was difficult for her not to tighten her grip on his hand.

Damn, damn, damn, the fabric of Hermione's sweater. Due to the fact that the class was given on Sunday (refer to the start for traces of his indignation), they weren't required to wear their usual black school robes. So now the light beige sweater, which Harry though seemed to brighten Hermione's skin was in direct contact with his hand. And the feeling was so soft and velvety against the skin of his palm; he couldn't stop his thumb from fanning repeatedly against the fabric.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger would you be so kind to pay attention! And join the rest of us in dance class!" Trelawney's voice was so shrill and potent that it made Harry and Hermione jump from their dazed stages. As Harry turned around he realized that the rest of the dancers had already started and were practicing all along the classroom, with only Hermione and him remaining stationary. Both of them just nodded rapidly, looking down and trying to hide their blushing faces.

The blue magical steps were still in front of Harry's feet, waiting for him to give his first step to activate them. "Ready?" Harry asked, his voice raspy.

"Yes," Hermione simply responded, not finding more words to speak.

Before Harry's mind flashed the learned steps and tried to rapidly recall the technique. Giving the first step, the magical footprint started to move in the desired form, Harry and Hermione following them.

But just after a few steps Harry found it far more difficult to concentrate on his feet. He kept getting distracted by Hermione's hand, which kept tightening her grip on his shoulder ever so often, or he got immersed on the fresh, flowery smell that wafted to his nose. But the worst happen when he made the horrible mistake of looking at her eyes. He was caught; he had never before got the opportunity to see into her gaze from such a close distance. Not even that night which was still carved into his memory when he cleaned the smudge off her cheek. And it was impossible for him not to lose himself in her eyes, discovering a never before known depth, observing that her eyes actually had tiny little gold flecks that were undetectable if you didn't stand close enough. By now Harry wasn't even aware of what his feet were doing.

Hermione's mind had never before been so fogged and inattentive during a class, or at any other moment, but it just couldn't be helped. The knowledge and technique she had rapidly and thoroughly learned was slowly creeping into the back of her head the more time she passed touching Harry's arm and hand.

Everything seemed to take second place after all the sensations she was receiving from Harry's touch. Her entire hand was engulfed in a hot, vibrating temperature from where it was cupped by Harry's. While the other hand, which was poised on Harry's upper arm, was giving surreptitious squeezes; she was impressed that even though Harry was thin, his muscles were strong and firm (it sure didn't look like that when he wore his robe, she should know). Hermione was taking advantage of their closeness to continue with her inspection that she had started the morning they had woken up together of his face, still being fascinated of how uncannily flawless it was. When suddenly, Harry finally turned his face towards her and she unwillingly caught his gaze. She had to enact extreme self-control not to gasp at what she saw. Hermione knew of the great dazzling green shade of his eyes, but his eyes had always been somewhat obscured by the glare of his glasses. But now being at this distance where the light didn't reflect and interrupt the image, Hermione was surprised to learn how much deeper Harry's eyes were. Up close they were like a kaleidoscope of green, light dazzling emerald perfectly combined with profound dark green. She was so enwrapped wanting to see if it was physically possible to lose oneself to another person's eyes that ever so slowly the rest of the clatter and noise of the room began to disappear.

"Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, did you come to class to stand around and look glazed or to actually dance!" Trelawney spoke so loudly that she was almost shouting. "If you two don't continue to move your feet and dance, I am going to change partners again!"

Harry and Hermione tightened their grip on each other as they nodded frantically at Trelawney. They seemed to be a silent agreement the next time they met each other's gaze. Clearly neither of them wished to change partner.

Harry, ignoring the glances he was receiving from the rest of the group and especially ignoring all of the feelings, he decided to continue with the class. One-Two-Three, One-

Two-Three, he started counting mentally while having a hard time remembering what to do at each count. One-step forward with your left foot, did Hermione realize how much a ponytail favored her?...Two-straighten your knees and step with right foot to the side, her face was clearer...Three-draw your feet together, and brighter, definitely brighter, One-...had she used her hair like that before?

A soft intake of breath distracted him; looking down on Hermione's face he saw she was biting her lip. "OH! I'm sorry!" Harry apologized when he realized that he had stepped on her foot. He was so ashamed, and was sure his cheeks showed it. How could he have stepped on her foot? It wasn't on purpose that was obvious, but he was having a very difficult time concentrating and he honestly didn't know why. He had done absolutely all right when he danced with Ginny, and she was also a girl so it had clearly nothing to do with dancing with girls. So what was it then? Because many things were completely different; with Ginny he had no problems looking directly at his feet to supervise their movement, he could place complete attention to Trelawney's counting of the steps, and his hands didn't display a change in temperature. But now with Hermione, his eyes couldn't remain staring at his feet, because they were beaconed to look at her face, in contrast he could easily concentrate at whatever aspect of her face, and Trelawney's voice wasn't even audible over the frenzied rhythm of his heart. And while his hands had remained unscathed from Ginny's hand, now they were experimenting a drastic change in temperature; the one in her shoulder blade could so easily feel the temperature of her skin through the thin material of her sweater, that her own body heat seemed to radiate to his fingertips, and he didn't even want to think about his other hand that was cupping Hermione's hand. The feeling being so new and comfortable that he was holding her so tight that his hand was starting to sweat. Oh great! Just what I needed. What is Hermione going to think? Will she find it so revolting that she would want to let go?

Yes, Hermione answered the question she had just asked herself. Did Harry feel disgusted by the excessive sweating her hand was experiencing? Of course he did, just by the look on his face she could tell. She only wished that wasn't enough for him to let go. She couldn't help it, she was so nervous; it was surprising that her entire body hadn't melted already. Besides, she felt completely flustered, she had never had such a hard time concentrating on an activity, not even Professor Binn's slow drawl could deter her. Even though she started counting and doing some of the steps, after every single one of them her mind would travel to Harry's form. On how was it possible that his hair was so midnight black but still shimmer when the sun basked on his fringe, or how his glasses fitted the shape of his head to perfection. Her attention was so fixed on Harry that she hadn't even noticed that he had stepped on her foot, until he spoke to apologize and caught her in mid sigh.

This was getting ridiculous, she had danced before and with Krum a boy older than she was and an International Quidditch player at that, and she had never felt so self-conscious of her movements before. And Krum himself had even complimented her on how well she danced (of course he didn't realize she wasn't so much as dancing as letting herself be lead) but still, she could easily read his body language to know what he was going to do next, and she was 100% attuned with the music to be able to follow the rhythm. But now? What was she paying attention to? On how Harry's chest rose and fell with each intake of breath, on how the muscles on his neck tensed, on how his jersey clung loosely to his frame, and the only thing she was attuned to was to the rhythm of her heart pounding mercilessly on her ears.

Another silent agreement was formed between the two when their eyes met yet again after a mistake they made while dancing (they had actually made the step to the opposite direction). They had to make the effort or otherwise back to their original partners.

What were they doing anyway? Harry though creasing his brow is question, Oh yeah, the damn box thing.

"Left Box Turn," Hermione said to Harry, "that is what we were practicing, right?"

Harry just stared at her for another minute; sometimes it was eerily disturbing how well she could read his mind.

So off they went, finally paying attention to the colored steps in front of them, and following them while doing the practiced steps. But try as they might, they just couldn't dance well. They were so nervous they kept changing directions, Hermione turning to the left while Harry turned to the right. Hermione was stomping on Harry's feet when she stepped to the front rather than the back. And the more they made mistakes likes this, the more nervous and flustered they became. Trelawney kept looking sideways at them while she was walking through the couples, but she didn't say anything to them again. Perhaps she knew they were under enough embarrassment by their poor dancing skills, Harry thought sourly as for the tenth time he stepped on Hermione's toes. He knew he was now actually worse than Neville.

Finally, the class drew to an end, but not soon enough from Harry's point of view. Professor Trelawney said goodbye with the warning that next class they were going to start practicing with music. Harry's only response was to gulp hardly.

Slowly the four Gryffindors made their way to their common room in a complete silence. Neville was quite proud of himself, he had faired better with Ginny as a partner, for some reason he wasn't as nervous around her as with Hermione, (which he secretly always though was grading his dancing). Ginny looked sullen and separated herself as soon as she could from the four of them and headed straight to the lake, claiming she needed a walk. Harry and Hermione were left alone after Neville headed back to the Great Hall. Suffice to say that Harry didn't know what to say to Hermione. Should he apologize for the terrible beating he gave to her feet? She tried to hide it, but he knew she was limping again, and this time he didn't have to ask why.

Hermione was walking sadly by Harry's side, not wanting to look at his face. She had been a terrible partner, and was sure Harry would want to change partners for Ginny again. After all, Ginny hadn't stomped on his feet every ten seconds. It wasn't a difficult assumption to make that Ginny had been dancing better with Harry than she had done.

Harry couldn't bear it anymore, when they came to the known corridor he quickly grabbed Hermione's arm and started dragging her to another part of the castle.

Hermione was caught of guard and walked several strides before she remembered the pain in her feet and slowed down. "Where are we going?"

Harry took a various seconds to answer and only mumbled incoherently, so the only part she understood was, "...feet...swollen..." she kept walking numbly in silence. It was her fault his feet were swollen.

When Hermione fell silent by his side, he felt even guiltier. Finally Hermione realized where Harry was taking her when they reached the giant painting of fruit that opened to reveal the kitchen. "Look, Harry..." Hermione stopped abruptly, extracting her arm from his grip, before he got the opportunity to tickle the pear.

Harry already knew what was coming.

"I'm sorry," Harry and Hermione spoke simultaneously; they were surprised to hear an apology from the other.

"You didn't do anything!" they spoke outraged.

"It was my fault!" they both argued.

Hermione having enough of their combined argument lifted her hand to stop the talking.

"What are you sorry for?" Harry finally asked.

"Isn't it obvious? Because I'm responsible for your swollen feet," Hermione responded shyly.

"My feet?" Harry answered surprised that she was blaming herself. (Although now that he realized it his feet did hurt, but it didn't matter as much as her feet.)

"Yes! Isn't it why you brought me here? So you could soak your feet?"

"Of course not!" Harry immediately replied, "I brought you here because I was the one who stamped on your feet, worse than Neville, and I wanted you to rest your feet."

"You? But I'm the one..." Harry didn't let Hermione finish by shaking his head in negation. Hermione would have argued more about the subject, but there was another important point that she needed to know. "So, you don't want to change partners?" she asked hopefully.

"No! Absolutely not!" Harry answered fervently, but then fear crept up his stomach. "Do you?"

"No! Of course I don't!" Hermione answered equaling his tone.

They stood there by the painting, looking bashfully at each other for their misunderstanding. Harry thought better to continue with his plan; before he could do something he would regret later, and lifted his hand tickled the pear. It wiggled somewhat before the painting swung open.

One little house-elf immediately separated himself from the rest as soon as he saw Harry. "Harry Potter sir! Harry Potter sir!" Dobby was bellowing with happiness as he came running towards Harry. "Harry Potter has come to visit Dobby again! This makes Dobby so happy sir. And he has brought his friend!"

"Hello Dobby," Hermione said with an extra sweet tone.

"Hey Dobby, do you think you could bring us a container with some hot water and salt, please?"

"Of course, sir, Dobby is delighted to serve Harry Potter," he said bowing low to both of them. "Although Dobby doesn't understand why would Harry Potter like to drink so much hot water and with salt!"

Harry let out a laugh at Dobby's ideas, before explaining. "It's not for drinking Dobby, it is for Hermione to soak her feet in."

"Oh, please forgive Dobby for not understanding. Please sit down Harry Potter and his friend, I'll bring the container to you right away," Dobby said while bowing one more time as Harry and Hermione found two big great wooden chairs to rest on, before he set off.

"Wait, Dobby!" Hermione stopped him before he could leave.

"Yes, Harry Potter's friend. What can Dobby do to help you?"

"First, call me Hermione. And second, could you please bring two containers so that Harry can soak his feet as well?" Hermione asked politely as she always demanded the house-elves to be treated.

"Dobby will bring what ever Harry Potter and Hernee need," Dobby hurriedly made his way deep into the kitchen.

Hermione's smile didn't falter after Dobby pronounced her name, but she did however give Harry a very stern look when he wouldn't stop sniggering. "Would you stop?" Hermione admonished. "After the life he's had he can call me however he can."

"Ok...ok..." Harry said calmingly trying to control his smile, "Whatever you say...Herne."

Hermione turned her head rapidly towards him. "Shut up!" she said mock-angrily, "You cannot call me like that! You are not a house-elf!! You have not lived half your life in servitude!"

Harry just laughed earning him a few jabs at his ribs. Dobby finally returned with the two large containers of water and was preparing to help Harry take his shoes off, but Harry put a stop to it. After testing the water with his big toe, Harry finally immersed his two tired feet into the depth of the container, Hermione following a suit. A great sigh of relief was heard from them as they shared a small smile. After only a few minutes Dobby came back carrying a tray with treacle tarts and big glasses of pumpkin juice. Harry thanked Dobby and Hermione offered him to sit down and eat with them. After Dobby shed some tears while wailing of the greatness of Harry Potter and his friend he sat on the floor in front of them and started talking about his recent buys of new socks. Harry and Hermione spent the rest the time in the kitchen, talking and eating until the water in the containers was cold. They said goodbye to Dobby and sent their regards to Winky and departed.

***

The following Monday the school was full of energy, for the weeks until Halloween were diminishing with every day. Just in Harry's way from Divination to the Great Hall he presence four invitations to the Masquerade ball, fortunately for the boys who were asking all of them were a resounding yes. This got Harry thinking; because of what had happened with Ron, his daily hospital visits, Quidditch practice, homework, ballroom dancing, and everything else in the life of a young wizard he didn't have the opportunity to spare a thought to the Masquerade ball. But it was approaching and with giant steps and he still didn't have a date, he didn't even know if he was going to attend. To tell the truth he didn't feel very good to be attending parties, well just the thought of asking someone to the ball reminded him of last years Yule Ball when Ron and him were getting desperate to find dates. And with a sad smile he remembered his best friend's depression after having asked Fleur Delacour, the French student from Beauxbatons, to the ball.

He arrived at the Great Hall, rapidly scanning the Gryffindor table as he walked, until his eyes landed on the brown-haired girl he was looking for. He went directly towards her and sat besides her. "Hello Harry, did you have a nice Divination class?" Hermione asked while she was putting a way the book she had been reading.

Harry just snorted. "There is no such thing as a nice Divination class, Hermione."

Hermione just smiled and proceeded to decide on what to eat. Harry offered her some beef stew and she gladly accepted. They enjoyed a nice lunch, Harry retelling Trelawney's new tale of his death, and Hermione recalling what she had found interesting in Arithmancy. Almost at the end of lunch, before any student could leave the tables, Dumbledore stood up and extended his arms claiming silence. "Attention students, as you well know, Halloween is approaching, and with it our first Masquerade Ball," Dumbledore had to pause due to so much squeals, mainly coming from Parvati. "To make the evening more entertaining we have devised some new activities. If you are attending the Ball with a date you would have to wear special bracelets that Professor Flitwick was kind enough to charm." The tiny little charms professor gave a little wave from his seat. "These bracelets are charmed to recognize your date, as you will be under disguise and could be difficult to recognize one another." There were some noises of agreement all around the tables. "There is going to be, of course, further information on the use of the bracelets during your charms class. Also, from this week and until Halloween you will be seeing special lessons in each of your classes, which according to your grade will aid you in furthering your disguise-"

"But how are we supposed to find or buy disguises if we are not allowed into Hogsmeade anymore?" Parvati asked rather loudly to nobody in particular.

Dumbledore didn't show that he had heard her; however, he seemed to come up with the answer. "If you are wondering about how you are going to purchase a disguise, they will be supervised visits to Hogsmeade, this visits will take place over the weekend, when you will be escorted with your year's classmates into the village by several professors. The schedules of your year's visit will appear on your common room, of course this only applies from years third and up." There were several noises in answer to this announcement, various girls were giggling with excitement to go back to the village and making purchases, some boys remained somber remembering the perils that now where a reality at Hogsmeade. "And to conclude, at the end of the Masquerade Ball, which is scheduled to be at one in the morning, whatever spell or charms you used to help disguise your appearance will fade. So there you have it, I hope you all attend the ball and have a wondrous evening. And since now I have stolen too much of your time, you can all leave," Dumbledore ended sitting back down to discuss something with Professor McGonagall.

The students were left in a frenzy, they discussed the new information and some of them were beginning to abandon the Great Hall. "I have forgotten all about the Masquerade," Hermione said still seated.

"Yeah, me too," Harry shared, looking at from the corner of his eyes. And then he allowed himself to think what in the recesses of his mind was hiding. Could he invite Hermione to go with him? Would she even want to go? It seemed to him that she wouldn't even think about it, and he felt guilty for thinking about it himself. But...he did want to go, and with her...to keep her company, of course, to make her have fun.

Between all of the things she had been experimenting this past weeks, the nightly readings, waking up everyday next to Harry, visiting Ron constantly, her homework, special projects, extra-credit, and more activities, the idea of the Masquerade was far from Hermione's mind. But Dumbledore had brought back the topic this evening, and now she was confused. Because some great part of her wanted to live this adventure, wanted just for a second be like every other girl and wonder for what dress to wear, how to comb her hair, and to leave all the dreadful reality behind her. And another part of her knew that she could only attend that ball if she was escorted by...well Harry, why beat around the bush? But at the second, the feeling that was winning within herself was of guilt; for thinking that Harry could even think of stupid dances when his best friend, and almost brother, was in a coma. If only Harry would come with her, that she would make every effort possible to make him forget also about the cold reality of his life, and make him feel, just for one night, that he was a regular fifteen-year-old wizard, having a regular fun night.

Harry and Hermione were walking slowly through the corridors of Hogwarts, each of them immersed in their own reflections.

Harry, with his hands stuck deep into his pockets was in the middle of a great decision. Maybe I could just ask her, very casually if she is interested in the ball...

Hermione's mind was in the in the same dilemma. I could make it sound like a normal inquiry; just curious I'll say...

And after threading the ground after her reaction...

Depending on how he reacts, I can voice my opinion that I find the ball as a needed distraction...

...and maybe I could ask her to go with me, just...

...like friends of course, its not as if it was a real...

...date, no, I am just asking as a friend, who has her best interest...

...in mind, I mean he has been through so much...

...any other girl would have gone mad after what she has lived through...

...but...even if she is interesting in going to the ball, that doesn't mean she would want to go with...

...me, he does have so many other girls interested in him...

...but as for me, I do want to go with her, and I am going to...

...ask him, I just hope he doesn't...

...laugh at me, or...

...feel sorry for letting me down...

...well, enough, I am...

...going to ask him...

...right now!...

"Harry?"

"Hermione?"

Both Harry and Hermione were stock still with surprise, their mouths were open ready to speak, they were just about to voice out each other's name, but they got beaten to it, and now another pair of voices were calling them.

Harry turned around to the direction the voice calling him had come from until he met the sweet face of Cho Chang. "Hello Harry, could I speak to you for a moment?"

Hermione was surprised to be called just when she was going to talk and turned to find a nervous Neville. "Hermione...could...I mean...is it possible...for us...could we talk for a second?"

"Er...sure," Harry answered, rapidly glancing towards Neville, who was standing waiting for Hermione.

Cho walked a few steps away from Hermione and Neville, Harry following her reluctantly. He had a sinking feeling of what Neville wanted with Hermione.

Cho smiled sweetly at Harry as soon as he had caught up with her. Cho Chang...the prettiest Ravenclaw, now in her sixth year, seeker of her house Quidditch team. "So...how have you been?" Harry asked to end the heavy silence. Although he knew that this question had a double meaning in her case; to start the conversation and to know how she was dealing after the death of her boyfriend Cedric, during last year incident.

"Well...I'm fine," Cho spoke softly looking straight into Harry's eyes, "although I can say, it's been a very difficult summer."

Harry was watching her intently as she spoke. If it was possible she had gotten even prettier after the summer, her hair had grown, but still shined with the sun. And her eyes, although now with sadder gaze, were still brilliant. Harry could see that her lips were moving again, but he wasn't listening. The still fresh memory when he had asked her to the Yule Ball last year came flashing back, the nervousness of approaching her, the desire to be with her that night. It was always nerve racking to talk to her, and now as he gazed deeply into her beautiful eyes, he waited for the usual jump his stomach gave when being near her presence...but it never came. Harry was totally flabbergasted, here she was, the girl he had had a crush on ever since his third year had asked to talk to him privately, and he wasn't even really listening to what she was saying, all he could do was glance towards Neville, feeling sick at what he was probably asking.

"Harry, are you listening?" Cho's soft interrogation brought his gaze back to her face.

"Er...yes of course, you were saying?" Harry asked, ashamed at his lack of attention. What was happening to him? Wasn't she the girl he had always secretly dreamt about? He had desired so much to go with her last year to the ball, and the opportunity to ask her again presented itself so clearly right now that they were alone. But he...didn't want to? And now that he thought about it, he hadn't spared a dream for Cho since he came back to Hogwarts this year. He hadn't even noticed her before in the halls. Why had Cho Chang suddenly left his fancy? Was it possible that he didn't have a crush on her anymore? Well, whom was he kidding, it wasn't the same, he knew it, but most importantly he felt it.

Cho didn't answer right away; she gazed deeply into Harry's eyes, making him feel uncomfortable of her deep scrutiny. Various seconds were passed this way, until Cho finally let out a sigh. "Forget about it Harry," Cho said smiling sadly at him. "I wanted something from you, but it's obvious that it isn't mine anymore," Cho ended giving a furtive glance towards the direction Harry's eyes were directed just moments before, without Harry noticing.

Harry was confused at what she meant. What did she want? Did he have something of hers? Cho interrupted his thoughts again. "I'm sorry for bothering you Harry."

"You don't bother me, Cho. It was nice to talk to you again," he said honestly this time.

"Thank you. Well, see you at the Quidditch field then?" Cho added her voice getting stronger.

"You bet."

Cho smiled at Harry again before she started walking towards her class. "And Harry?" Cho suddenly turned around, standing various steps away from him. "Good luck!"

Harry furrowed his brow. With what? Harry wondered, and he was about to ask her, but she already had started running slowly away. Good luck with what? Quidditch?

But Harry couldn't waste a minute standing there trying to interpret Cho's cryptic message, he had to stop Neville!

Hermione was being terribly rude, and she knew it. But she just couldn't pay attention to what Neville was trying to say. She had followed Harry and Cho with her eyes and fruitlessly tried to read their lips, but she already knew what Cho wanted. The tone she had used when she talked to him, told her...ugh. She never did like Cho that much...now Hermione felt guiltily. That wasn't true, sure she didn't know Cho at all, just from seeing her at the Quidditch games and passing her by the halls, and that was it. But Hermione never felt like this before, Cho seemed like a very nice girl, and pretty, obviously pretty by how Harry was looking at her...she definitely didn't like Cho. Why was she feeling like this? She never felt this ugly feeling towards anyone before (Slytherin excluded of course) But now, her stomach contracted just by looking at the smile she was giving Harry. And the worst part was that Harry liked Cho, it was so obvious from his reactions the past years towards her. And she couldn't do anything about it. She was sure Harry would take this opportunity to ask Cho to the ball this year. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, while she saw Harry looking straight into Cho's eyes. Suddenly she felt angry with heart, for hurting her chest, at Cho for thinking that she could just waltz to Harry and expect him to come willingly, at Harry for doing exactly what Cho desired, at Neville who had interrupted her when she was about to ask Harry and at herself for being stupid enough to be thinking such ridiculous thoughts. Her sudden angry mood made her turn her gaze back at Neville and snap at him, "For Merlin's sake Neville, diction!! I can't understand a word you are saying!!"

Neville who had been mumbling incoherently for the duration of Hermione's internal dilemma got, if possible, more flustered and was now red as a ripe tomato and couldn't speak anymore.

Hermione gave a desperate sigh (almost grunt) at him, but immediately tried to calm herself. After all Neville wasn't responsible for her mood.

"Neville! Wait!" Harry came running back and was shouting at Neville.

Hermione for some reason didn't want to look at him right now. And didn't even want to know what Harry would want with Neville.

"I need to ask Hermione something important," Harry said rapidly, touching Hermione's shoulder lightly.

"What?" Hermione responded, rather acidly.

"But...Harry..." Neville was still blabbering.

"Real fast Neville, I promise," Harry insisted, a little confused at Hermione's tone.

"But...I wanted to ask Hermione..." Neville interrupted and Harry could see that he wasn't going to give up.

"Hermione, willyougototheballwithme?" Harry said so fast that it sounded as a monosyllabic word.

Hermione's heart gave a strong jolt again, but this time the feeling behind it was completely different. "What?" she asked softly, not believing what she thought she heard.

"Hermione demands good diction, Harry," Neville pointed out helpfully to Harry.

Harry turned towards Neville, confused at what he was saying. His head was so hot not that he knew it was going to explode any minute now. "I know it sounds weird, and you probably don't even want to...I also know this isn't the time to be thinking about balls, but...if you...I mean...if you think you are up for it...I would want to know if you would go to the Masquerade Ball with me?"

Hermione wanted to beam with delight, her face actually hurt from trying to control the muscles to prevent from smiling. "But...didn't you ask Cho?"

"What?! No!! What she wanted was..." Harry stopped; he had to guiltily admit that he didn't even paid attention to what she was saying, so he didn't know what she wanted. "Was to talk to me a little about her summer," Harry invented in the end.

Harry waited nervously for Hermione to answer his question; the only thing that was giving him support was the fact that she wasn't laughing. But Hermione answered his question even before she opened her mouth with the sweet beautiful smile she gave him.

"Of course Harry, it would be wonderful to go with you," Hermione spoke so softly.

Harry wanted to say something like great, thanks or some words to express how happy he felt, but his mouth only appeared capable of grinning madly. Harry and Hermione remained looking at each other until Neville cleared his throat as a reminder of his presence.

"Neville! I'm so sorry," Hermione said truthfully, apologizing also for how she had treated him only minutes ago, "what is it that you wanted?"

"Don't worry about it Hermione; I just wanted to know if I can borrow the book Muggle Dancing and the Magical Ways to Master it, you have," Neville asked politely.

Hermione's cheeks were immediately red. "What?"

"Well, Madam Pince said that you had checked out the only copy of the book, and I was wondering if I can borrow it for a bit."

"Oh! Yes that book...that book! Yes! I remember I checked it out...but I forgot about it...yes!" Hermione was blabbering, but Neville being fluent in that kind of language was understanding perfectly. "I don't have it with me, it's up in my room...so I'll give it to you later, ok?"

"Yes, thanks Hermione," Neville said, before leaving them alone.

Harry was still smiling at Hermione, who was holding her schoolbag a little more tightly. "It's in your schoolbag, isn't it?" Harry said, giving Hermione a significant look.

Hermione was shaking her head in negation, but she knew Harry already knew the truth; she sighed heavily before admitting. "Yes," she expressed sadly, "How did you know?"

"It will rain hippogriffs the day Hermione Granger forgets about a book," Harry simply answered.

Hermione blushed more. "It's just wanted to research about it a little...be more prepared."

Harry saw that Hermione was actually embarrassed so he stopped jeering at her. "Look that is a great idea. I need to be more prepared also. How about we read it tonight rather than our usual, Hogwarts: A History?"

Hermione's face light up again. "Yes! That would be perfect, for we do have class again this Tuesday you know?" Hermione responded, and started walking to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

But Harry didn't move from his place. "What?!" he questioned outraged, stoic from the shock. "Already?"

But Hermione, although was still very close, didn't appear to hear him.

***

For a strange reason that Harry didn't want to know right now, he couldn't go to visit Ron with Hermione that evening. So instead he went to Gryffindor Tower and sat in one of the big plush chairs, waiting for the common room to clear out, for him to start preparing the couch for their nightly readings.

The twins were currently huddled together with their friend Lee Jordan at one of the tables with hundreds of parchments scattered across it. Lee was always trying to engage his friends in further inventing merchandise for their joke shop, as he deemed it the only way the twins could be distracted by the tragedy that had occurred to their younger brother. And even though they did their best, and spent hours at the night researching and planning, something within the twins had extinguished, their faces weren't as bright as before.

Paining him to even look at Fred and George, Harry turned his sight to the only other group in the common room, which unfortunately seemed to be formed by every single Gryffindor girl, from every year. They were all sitting in a circle together, some in the couches, the floor and even on the tables. It seemed like a conference was in session, for the procedure appeared to be that one girl would talk lively, gesturing wildly with her arms, then when she was finished the rest of the congregation giggled like crazy. Harry tried hard not to listen to their talk, but they were talking so loudly that it could be heard all around the common room. And of course, the main topic was the Masquerade; who they were going to go with, what they wanted to dress up as, what they wanted their DATES to dress up as, what they expected to receive from their dates, how they desired to be treated, adventures they wanted to experience, how many songs they wanted to dance, and when the conversation turned to how some girls wished the night ended with a snog session, Harry tried extra hard to tuned them out.

Girls, Harry thought dismissively. What was their attention focused on! Events happened all around the world, close to them as Hogsmeade and even here at Hogwarts and all they were interested in was how they were going to spend their evening during the Ball. Hermione had never been like that, she was always so conscious about what was happening in her surroundings, receptive to the everyday occurrences, attuned with others feelings, and intelligent to search for ways to solve the problems. He had never once seen her get overworked about what she was going to wear, or how much she was going to dance...but then...that wasn't entirely good either, was it? Since her first year she had gotten involved in his world of fighting and searching. Getting into troubles since the moment that troll attacked her on Halloween. And she never once got to experience a calm, normal and even girly fun day like the rest of the female population. But that was exactly what she deserved, after almost five years of fighting by his side against Voldemort. And especially after all she had to suffer because of what happened to Ron, she had earned a wonderful, splendid fun filled night, where all her troubles would float away into oblivion.

Well that was what he was going to do; he was going to do his best to make of the ball a night to remember. He knew how right? After all he had been to a ball before...but...Harry glanced at Parvati who was in the middle of the circle of girls. She had been his first "date" to a ball ever, but he never felt any special inclination to make that evening wonderful. He didn't even remember what happened at the ball with Parvati, for all he did was to follow Cho around with his sight. He didn't want to do that to Hermione. And then fear came rumbling to his stomach; he didn't know what he could do, he didn't know how to act, what were the instructions, did instructions even exist? This night was to be totally different; he wasn't going to act with Hermione as recklessly as he had done so with Parvati. But he needed to know how, he needed help, he needed someone to advise him...he knew who needed.

Harry rapidly grabbing his schoolbag sat up from his chair and ignoring the strange glances he was receiving from some of the girls in the group, headed straight out through the portrait hole. He ran as fast as he could dodge Peeves, all the way to the owlery. It was scarier to be at the owlery so late. The eyes of the many owls glowed through the darkening room. Harry found the cleanest part of the floor and sat down, rummaging in his bag for a piece of parchment and his quill. Before he could change his mind he began to write...

Dear Snuffles,

I hope you are well. Here we're doing as well as we can given our situation. Although it seems to have worsen thanks to Ballroom dancing class.

The reason that I am writing you is because I need your help. Now, don't worry, it isn't serious or life-threatening, but still important. If you've been in contact with Moony, then you should know that there is going to be a Masquerade Ball on Halloween and I need your urgent advice on the subject.

Perhaps you find my petition strange, believe me I do, but this time the occasion is different and important.

I hope that you can help me.

Say hello to Buckbeak for me,

Best wishes

Harry

Harry reread the letter five times, and each time he felt extremely silly to bother Sirius with something so ordinary. But before he could decide whether or not to destroy it, Hedwig came flying down and landed softly at his raised knees. She hooted calmly and extended her leg, as if prodding him to continue. Harry rolled the parchment and tied it to her leg. Hedwig flew away hurriedly not giving Harry the opportunity to change his mind.

Harry didn't have to wait too much time for Sirius' answer. Two days later, Hedwig arrived with the parchment. Harry began to read immediately while Hedwig helped herself to some juice.

Dear Harry,

Well this is sure refreshing, to hear normal news from you.

Also, you don't now how happy it makes me feel that you need me for typical teenager advice ('bout time!).

I have indeed been in contact with old Moony, that it's why I know that you have an escorted visit to Hogsmeade. We can meet there.

Now don't get all worried; since there is still time, I am going to travel extra careful (don't give me that incredulous look, I promise I will be!) And it would be of great help if you could lend me your dad's cloak while at Hogsmeade. You can give it to Moony.

And don't worry about anything,

See you soon,

Snuffles

P.S. What is this you write about Ballroom Dancing?!? I am expecting to hear the entire story.

The groan Harry let out after the end was heard throughout the Gryffindor table.

*

The schedule for Hogsmeade visits was posted at the common room on Wednesday morning.

First Week

Friday - Seventh Years

Saturday - Sixth Years

Sunday - Fifth Years

Second Week

Saturday - Fourth Years

Sunday - Third Years

Harry wondered it Sirius knew the day they were assigned, and he got his question answered when he went to visit professor Lupin to give him his dad's invisibility cloak. Lupin had told him that everything was arranged, even a special permission. Harry was confused at what Lupin meant, but he knew he would find out soon enough.

The days flew fast enough, and before he realized the chosen Sunday had arrived. All of the fifth years, from all of the houses, were to be escorted by six professors, Lupin, Snape, Hagrid, McGonagall, Sprout and Trelawney. They were the first to walk out the huge oak door, while the students waited for Filch to check each one of them in his list. As they were all in the line so scrunched up tightly, Harry got the opportunity to hear almost all of the conversations, and all of them were about the same, what they wanted to go dressed as. Harry found that almost every girl was telling her date what to dress as, so they can be the same theme. Harry had never thought about this before, what if Hermione had already deemed what they were going as.

As the queue didn't seem to be advancing, Harry took the opportunity. "Hermione, do you have any plan as to what I am going to wear?" He knew he didn't hide his fear as well as he wished.

Hermione turned so rapidly towards him that she hit Colin, who was next to her, with her hair. "Of course not, Harry! I can't decide that for you! You need to choose what you're comfortable with," she said in an admonishing tone.

Harry sighed from relief. "So you don't care if we don't go dressed alike?"

Hermione smiled. "So you wanted to go with a dress too?"

Harry glared mock-menacingly at her. "No! I meant that you don't want to have a partnered theme?"

Hermione was still laughing from Harry's reaction. "It really doesn't matter that much to me. As long as we both find something that we like."

"Good," Harry said as the line began to move. "For a moment there I thought you wanted to go as a princess and make me go as a frog or something."

Hermione pretended to be considering it seriously. "Well, now that I think about it, the frog suit would combine perfectly with your eyes."

Harry blushed involuntarily at her comment, remembering the last poem he had received some years ago for Valentine. He didn't get the opportunity to reply as they started to get pushed out the door by the rest of the mass of students.

Harry had never before experienced a Hogsmeade visit as this one. All of the fifth years were huddled together at the center, while the six professors were surrounding them from all points. Harry barely saw the sign from the Leaky Cauldron from between the throng. They weaved through the streets of Hogsmeade for various minutes, until they appeared to reach their destination, as they began to slow down. From Harry could see, between the head in front of him, it was a tall building with more than three landings. Through the large glass windows at the front, hundreds of different costumes were visible.

"All right students, we are going to make this as efficient as possible. The store is divided; the girls will follow Professor Sprout, Professor Trelawney and I to the second floor where the girls' costumes are held. The boys will follow Professor Snape and Professor Lupin to the floor where you can find your costumes," Professor McGonagall explained as the students began to divide in half by their sex. "Come on then, girls."

All the girls went in following Professor McGonagall's stride. The boys went in next following Snape. As Harry was walking in, Professor Lupin stopped him. "Wait here with me until the rest has gone in," Lupin murmured rapidly to Harry as soon as he got him standing next to him. Harry only nodded.

When all of the students were in, Hagrid was left to guard the entrance, standing at the front of the door with all of his half-giant greatness. Lupin was murmuring softly again, but this time Harry didn't understand anything, Lupin was facing the other way. He opened the door and waited a few seconds before he let Harry go in and he followed a suit.

"Professor Lupin, what are you..." Harry's question got interrupted when he felt someone squeeze his shoulder tightly.

Harry looked around, but found nobody. "Harry, it's me!" a soft muster was heard.

"Sirius?" Harry questioned his voice low.

"Shh," Lupin pronounced, "be quiet."

"Snuffles, what are you doing in here? I thought we were going to meet after this," Harry questioned, while he pretended to be looking around the rack of costumes.

"Well, I thought you would want help with your costume also," Sirius answered his voice always low.

"You're right then! I really do need help. I have no idea what to choose," Harry said desperately.

"Let's go have a look around the store then," Lupin advised as he signaled Harry to go on ahead. "And be careful not to bump with anybody Padfoot."

"I know, Moony. I've used the cloak so many times before, remember?" Sirius answered tightly.

Even though Harry was finding funny the interaction between the old friends, he still was anxious about what to buy. The racks were full with various and different kinds of dresses, pants, tails, body parts that looked so real that Harry had to turn around. Neville and Seamus were standing under the huge sign that read "Muggle costumes" and were currently trying out different styles of hats, Seamus was wearing a police man cap while Neville had on a big, extravagant type of pearled tiara with hundreds of colorful feathers cascading down it. "Er- Neville, I think that that belongs to the girl section," said Dean as he tried to control his laugh. Harry agreed with him, Neville was wearing one of the head ornaments that are common for women from Brazil during the carnival.

Harry was undecided, did he want to dress as something Muggle (some Ravenclaws were fighting over a postman uniform) or something magical (while none appear to be fighting over some troll legs combo that included a big club)? As Harry was perusing a long kings cape, he heard Sirius voice, a little more loudly that he should. Although there was so much noise inside the store that nobody seemed to notice.

"Here is your costume, Harry," Sirius expressed happily as he pulled a dark pant leg from the rack behind Harry.

"Padfoot!" Lupin reprimanded in a low voice, as he hurried to grab the leg that had appeared to be floating in the air.

Harry turned around to see better what Sirius had suggested. "You can't go wrong with leather."

Harry didn't feel too confident after that statement. And he was right, when he saw the complete outfit. It was a pair of black leather pants accompanied only with a leather vest. It was something you would see on some of the bikers on TV. "Absolutely not! There is no way I am wearing that!" Harry answered vehemently.

"But everybody loves a bloke in leather. Girls especially," Sirius replied, and Harry could hear he was smiling.

Harry only shook his head. "What exactly is it that you are looking for, Harry?" Lupin asked after letting go of the pants leg. A sigh was heard in midair.

"I don't want anything flashy!" Harry expressed to the empty space beside Lupin. "I want something very simple, but elegant...I want to look nice, not perverted."

Lupin's gaze studied Harry for a second before he let his gaze wonder throughout the store. "Wait here," he said to Harry after he appeared to have found something in the Muggle section.

Harry and Sirius continued glancing through the racks. "So, you never did tell me, who are you going with?" Sirius asked.

Without knowing why, Harry began to blush. "With Hermione," he said in a tone too stiff to be considered casual.

"Hermione?" Sirius asked, his tone too sharp to be mere confusion.

"Yes...well...you know...she's been very depressed, and well...I asked her to the Ball, as friends of course," Harry explained.

"Really?" Sirius said, his voice doubting.

"Harry," Lupin had returned and was carrying some garments with him, "how about this?"

Harry took the clothes Lupin had given him and observed them one by one. They were just what he wanted, simple, very simple, but elegant. "I like them."

"Why don't you try them on," Sirius suggested.

Harry hurried to the curtains that served as dressing rooms, while Sirius and Lupin waited. "Did you know who he is going with?" Sirius asked his friend.

"He told me when he went to my office, Hermione," Lupin said, staring directly to the empty space beside him.

"Do you think..." The friend didn't need to finish the question. The other already knew the answer.

*

Draco was waiting impatiently, tapping his foot with an accelerated rhythm on the stone floor. He wasn't even looking at the clothes around him, only glaring at whoever ventured to his corridor. "Where is that buffoon?" he asked himself loudly.

"Umm, you sent him to-" Crabbe, who was beside him started to answer.

"Did I say that you could talk to me?" Draco said coldly with frustration in his voice.

Crabbe just stared directly at Draco, wondering if he should answer. Just then Goyle came running to their direction, and stopped in front of Draco, sucking air grotesquely, from his run. "Well, don't just stand there and waste my time breathing, did you find out what I needed?"

Goyle only nodded. An evil sneered spread itself over Draco's slim lips. "Perfect."

*

There were so many giggles around her that Hermione's head was about to burst. It didn't matter if it was the ugliest piece of fabric in the entire store, the girls would giggle madly. Parvati seemed to be the giggle queen, while strangely enough Lavender was silent, intently looking through the rows of costumes. Ten minutes had already passed and Hermione still hadn't found the perfect costume. Normally she wouldn't fuss on her clothes, a look at her closet would be proof enough, but this time she wanted to look as special as she could manage. She had to admire the variety of costumes the store carried, so far she had seen from elaborate seventeen century dresses, to beautiful fairy costumes, complete with real wings. Both none of them were for her.

She was browsing for the second time on the Muggle section of the floor when a vivid color caught her gaze. She walked back a few steps when she saw it. The most beautiful dress she had ever seen, hanging on the wall. The color was so live and radiant that it seemed to mesmerize her as she extended her hand to touch the fabric.

But Hermione didn't see another hand that shot out towards the dress at the same time. "Let go of the dress, Granger, you're too ugly to pull it off," the shrill voice of Pansy Parkinson broke her first ever dress-induced trance.

"Since when do you have enough brains to decide both my actions and yours?" Hermione countered, tightening her grip around the dress.

"I said let go, Granger," Pansy replied pulling at her side of the dress.

"As if you can make me," Hermione responded.

"Ladies, please," a short little fat witch came to the rescue. She wore a magical badge that said, 'My name is Mona' then it faded and the phrase 'how can I help you' appeared. "There is no need to fight," she said as she placed herself between Hermione and Pansy. "I don't know if you have noticed, but only one costume has struck your liking," she spoke kindly. "Our selection isn't just of a high quality, but they are also magical."

"No kidding," Pansy asked snidely.

Hermione hated to admit it, but that was rather obvious. Whatever costume you observed it had many magical aspects; from the real feathers of a tropical bird suit, to the salty smell of the fins from a fish suit.

If the friendly witch heard the sardonic note, she didn't let on. "What this means is that they are something alike wands. There is only one costume, for each witch, in accordance to their personality, values, etc."

"Yeah? Well this one is mine," Pansy exclaimed and took advantage of Hermione's attention to the witch's speech to yank it out of her grip.

"Hey!" Hermione reacted as Pansy ran to the fitting room.

The plump witch placed a calming hand at Hermione's shoulder. "One costume, to each witch."

Hermione tried not to glare at Mona's smiling face. Yeah that is helpful now. Stupid Pansy, how-

Hermione's train of thought was halted by a great scream. "Ahhh!! Help!! It's strangling me!!" Pansy was crying from the fitting rooms.

Mona took an exceptional amount of time to cross the distance towards her, minutes later she walked out carrying the dress with her.

"Stupid dress! It was ugly anyway..." Pansy was shouting while Mona placed the dress on Hermione's arms.

"You try it," she said softly.

"You're dreaming! If that bloody dress didn't want me, with my body! You think it will fill that dirty Gryffindor!"

"It fits!" Hermione exclaimed happily from behind the curtain. "It really fits!"

That shut Pansy right up, who just growled and moved away.

"So, darling," Mona said through the curtain, smiling more widely.

"I'll take it," Hermione immediately answered.

At last Harry and the rest of the fifth years came out of the store, outside of which Hagrid was still standing guard. "Well, hurry up to the castle," McGonagall instructed and led the way.

"What are we going to do?" Harry asked Lupin frantically. "I wanted to talk to Snuffles."

"Don't worry, he's coming with us," Lupin answered pushing Harry to start walking.

"What! But..."

"Its all right Harry, I told Dumbledore your desire to talk to Sirius, so he deemed it safer if you did it inside the castle's walls," Lupin reassured walking alongside Harry.

Harry visibly relaxed and walked the rest of the trail, talking animatedly with both Sirius and Lupin. Sometimes he glanced in Hermione's direction and she always had this dreamy expression, while clinging to the large box she had in her hands that seemed to soften her features. When Harry lost track of Sirius, it wasn't that hard to figure out where he had run off to, to count it had been five times Snape almost felt and was beginning to look suspiciously all around him. When they finally made it back to the castle, the students parted at the entrance, each one of them heading through the corridor that would lead them to their common room. Harry waved goodbye to Hermione and waited for the clatter of voices to calm down. "Let's go to my office," Lupin suggested and both Harry and Sirius followed. Professor Lupin had managed to return his office to its prior glory. Almost everything was the same as it had been years before. As soon as Lupin had cast a lock charm on his door, Sirius came from under the cloak.

"Ugh, it was beginning to smell in there," Sirius said with a smirk as he folded the cloak and placed it on Lupin's desk. Lupin rummaged around them as he prepared some tea. "So Harry," Sirius began patting the year in front of him, "what was it that you wanted to talk about?"

Harry cleared his throat a few times before he could answer. "Well, it's just that I don't know exactly what to do at the ball-"

"What, you don't know how to dance?" Sirius interrupted with a smirk on his lips.

"Is that your discreet way of asking about the Ballroom dancing classes?" Harry asked annoyed.

"I though it was rather obvious," Sirius continued as he shared a smile with Lupin.

"Okay, I am in ballroom dancing! Stop gloating!" Harry was almost shouting at Sirius who was laughing non-stop. Remus was trying to disguise his laugh with a cough.

"Why?" Sirius could barely talk between fits of laughter.

"Because of Hermione all right. I told her we should be in an activity together, and she chose dancing, so I couldn't do anything about it," Harry was beginning to get aggravated.

Sirius almost stopped laughing abruptly. "And you are actually going through with it?" he asked a little more amazement in his voice.

"Well, yeah, I'd do anything for her, I mean look at what she has gone through. If making a fool of myself on the dance floor is what it takes to make her day a little brighter, then I'll do it," Harry spoke with unknown vehemency.

Sirius seemed to calm himself down and stared with directly at Harry as Remus sat in the chair beside Sirius. "So what exactly is what you need?"

"Whatever you can tell me that would make the night unforgetable," Harry responded.

"This isn't your first date, right?" Remus asked lightly.

Harry's face immediately began to burn. "This isn't a date!" he expressed vigorously. "We are only going as friends."

"Of course," both Sirius and Remus answered doubtfully, sharing a rapid glance.

"But you've been to the Yule Ball last year," Sirius offered, changing the subject slightly. "I don't know why you are asking me this now."

"That wasn't a date," Harry answered rapidly, "and either way this is completely different. Parvati didn't enjoy herself very much, and I don't want to make the same terrible mistakes with Hermione...she is so special, she needs a special night."

Sirius gave a huge sigh before he answered. "Well Harry, the day has come, when you are mature enough to be given the knowledge of your forefathers," Sirius stared solemnly.

"Oh no," Remus groaned.

"Yes, Harry you are old enough to know about The Rules," Sirius continued, his tone somber.

"The what?" Harry had to ask; he didn't know what Sirius was talking about.

"The Rules Harry, are an ancient knowledge that will guide you when treating with girls," Sirius explained.

"Rather a few silly lines you and James created when you were fifteen," Remus scoffed.

"You will not insult The Rules in my presence," Sirius exclaimed with indignation.

"Fine! I'll wait until you've left the room then," Remus countered.

"Even you cannot deny the power of The Rules," Sirius responded eyeing Remus knowingly.

"Will you stop putting over emphasis on the words 'the rules'," Remus responded shakily, turning read.

"Now Harry, are you ready? You will have to promise to follow The Rules precisely to every detail, and I will assure you that Hermione will have the most unforgettable night in her life," Sirius exclaimed grandly.

Harry was still eyeing Sirius warily, up until now he still didn't know if Sirius, was serious.

It turned out he was talking with the truth, as the rest of the afternoon was passed with Sirius detailing one by one of the famous rules

12. The Masquerade

<While you were in a coma>

<Chapter Twelve>

<The Masquerade>

As promised by Dumbledore, the topic of his classes had changed. In transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had agreed to teach them simple spells that changed the color of your hair and eyes. In Potions, Professor Snape had grudgingly started on a voice-changing potion after clearly stating that such potion shouldn’t be wasted in stupid occasions as balls. In Herbology they were seeing a plants’ sap, which would darken or lighten your skin tone (depending on the dissolution) for a day. Right then in charms they were learning the use of the identifying bracelet.

“This is called the date-let,” the tiny figure of Professor Flitwick spoke from his tower of books holding a simple thin silver bracelet. “Each of you will charm your date-let to recognize you, then if you are going with a partner you will exchange your bracelet with your date. The point of the date-let is that it will glow when you are near your date, so you will recognize your costumed-clad date and don’t end up going with the wrong person.”

The duration of the class was passed practicing the wand movement and incantation. If you were going to actually attend the ball with a date, you had to go to Flitwick for a bracelet.

Harry and Hermione, after grabbing some sandwiches, escaped to the open ground to rest under a shade of a tree. They spent an exceptional amount of time eating their sandwiches, chewing at an incredibly slow rate. Harry was so conscious of the bracelet that was in his pocket, that he swore it was burning the fabric off his robe.

When they arrived to the final bites, there was nothing left to distract them. They shifted in their places for a few seconds, until Harry found the situation too uncomfortable to bear. He carefully extracted the silver bracelet from his pocket. He was surprised to see, when he finally turned towards Hermioe that she had also the bracelet in her hands.

“Should we start right now?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Well, I think so, just to make…the terms official,” Hermione answered sounding very business like. Harry chuckled at her choice of words, which made the tension a little lighter. “Now…how was it…?” Harry mused as he took out his wand, remembering what they just saw in class, he put on his ‘date-let’ on his right hand, gave it a hard tap and pronounced the incantation, “Agnosco Harry Potter.” A sharp shine went through the bracelet signifying the charm was done. Hermione had done the same thing.

“Now what?” Harry asked as he took of his date-let.

“You give me yours, I’ll give you mine,” Hermione recited.

Harry nodded in mutual agreement and before he could change his mind, he extended his arms and grabbed Hermione by the wrist, lifting her arm, all the while scooting closer to her, until they were at arms length.

Hermione, with every effort was trying not to be consumed by the hot sensation that was spreading throughout her body, originated by Harry’s touch. She closed her fingers together so that the bracelet could slide in easily.

Harry was so ready to do this simply procedure of putting on a bracelet, but somehow his hand and brain stopped communicating the instant that he had touched her skin. It probably took him a whole minute to slowly slide the bracelet onto her hand.

Only taking a few minutes to admire the shinning bracelet now adorning her wrist, and let’s be truthful to fully return to her normal temperature, Hermione proceeded to gently lift Harry’s hand from where it was lazily resting on his lap. She gripped his hand from his fingers and slowly slided the bracelet into his wrist. Hermione dropped his hand immediately before he could tell how much she was sweating. God! Is it really this hot outside?

Although Harry’s gaze was set purposely in the bracelet, his body was being enveloped with a heart-accelerating sensation.

Harry completely flustered, cleared his throat before he moved back. “Well I think that makes it official enough.”

Hermione only had enough power to nod in agreement, as they both stared at the soft silver glow that was now emitting from their bracelets.

***

Although some students exclaimed that time had passed at the speed of a firebolt, for Harry it wasn’t true. Mainly because his ballroom classes made the minutes seem like hours. Harry and Hermione had still experienced many problems while trying to dance. They had barely managed to get a grip on the Waltz, when they had started with the swing. By the time the weekend of the ball had arrived, the class had just seen the basic steps of the swing. And Harry was glad about that; he didn’t even want to ponder about when the time came for the complex turns.

Halloween had finally arrived and there was an electric spark of excitement in the air to prove it. A silent agreement seemed to be formed between the dorm mates of the different bedrooms, as to keep their disguises a secret. For one by one they went to change in the bathroom and before they could come out of the bathroom the rest of the dorm mates would climb into their beds and close their drapes until they heard the distinctive click of the door.

Hermione was currently making a list of the things she needed to get ready, while Pavarti and Lavender were in deep discussion. Though Pavarti was the first to make a big deal with the disguises remaining a mystery, she was also the one who had her disguise draped along the length of her bed, obvious for everyone to see.

The fresh smell of grass emanated from Pavarti’s thick green skirt, upon it was authentic coconut bikini top (why Pavarti would want to have real coconuts in that part of the body Hermione didn’t know), a crown of fresh tropical flowers complete with matching wrist bands were laid beside them, the colors were alive and together Hermione surmised made a perfect Hawaiian typical dress. But she still thought that if Pavarti really didn’t want them to know about it, she would have been more careful.

Hermione was caged within her bed, drapes carefully closed, waiting to hear the noise when her dorm mates left. She was sitting Indian style, her legs tightly crossed, admiring the still closed purple box that contained her brand new dress. She was so excited and highly anticipated wearing the dress, but she still didn’t want to take it out of the box, in case one of the girls gave a peek inside her bed. Yet lust got the better of her thus she sneaked a peek inside her shoebox.

At last the door clicked and Hermione poked her head to scan her surroundings. When she saw the cost clear, she immediately leaped out of her bed carrying both the boxes to the bathroom. She placed the boxes in a safe place and ran out to her room again, kneeling on the floor, she bended low, until her hand reached below the bed searching for her research material she had collected (vulgarly referred to as magazines). When she had finally gathered everything she needed, she locked the bathroom door, and proceeded to take a shower first. Hermione took a great amount of time bathing, using a scented shampoo with combining soap, applied lotion on her arms and face. When she finished she put on her bathrobe, to not smear or dirty up her dress. She was looking intently at her reflection, wasting so many minutes; she still wasn’t sure how to comb her hair. Even though nobody could see her, Hermione shyly opened the many magazines she had collected during the past weeks, some by secretly subscribing to Witch Weekly and others sent by petition from her mother. She browsed, both Muggle and witch magazines, looking for a spell or a photo of a good hair do. The answer to her dilemma was finally found in the picture of a model in an evening gown. Hermione made the magazine float in front of her, so that she could observe the particularities of the hairstyle. But before she could start to use the spells she had learned with Professor McGonagall to change the color of her hair and length of her hair, she had to decide the actual the color and length that she wanted. She did the length first, as it was the easiest part of the decision, murmuring the correct spell; she passed the length of her hair with her wand, extending the movement until she went to mid back, her hair growing to follow the wand. Hermione ran her fingers all along the newfound length of her hair, carefully observing the change in the mirror. Now came the difficult decision: the color. Should she stay on the safe side and just lighten her cinnamon locks? Or…should she get radical? Before she could change her mind, Hermione took her wand and spoke the needed spell, in a glimmering rain of color, her hair changed. She was a surprised at the radical change her face received; she stood various minutes glancing at different angles at her mirror, when she came to the conclusion that she needed a lighter tone of skin to combine better with her new shade of hair. When she was finished, she continued with her steps to arrange her hair. The difficult part arrived when it was time for the make-up. Hermione had never even used concealer, but today was a special night and she had to look different. On this aspect she had to depend totally on spells, she had absolutely no knowledge of the Muggle way. So with spells extracted from the Witch Weekly Magazines, Hermione ended with a fresh look. The only thing left to change was her eyes. She wanted something different, to change from her normal brown ones. She didn’t have to wait to know what color to use, she had always fantasized having a different color.

Now all that was left was the dress.

*

The bathroom was full of steam as Harry came out of the shower after the longest bath he had taken in his life. Drying his hair with a towel, he went to his room to put on his chosen costume. It took him less than ten minutes to change. What he did spend the rest of the evening was trying to figure out the spells for changing the color of his hair and eyes. After various tries, and after turning the tips of his hair a wild color blue, he finally changed the tone of his hair. There weren’t many decisions to make for the color; after all he refused to change it to blond, not wanting to have anything in common with Malfoy. What had actually pained him had been to alter the color of his eyes. But otherwise he would be found out very quickly. Not finding it necessary to change the tone of his skin he was done with the alterations. Now…what to do about his hair?

***

She walked out of the portrait hole, nervously touching the gauzy white fabric of her dress. It was extremely simple, but she liked the idea behind the dress. Almost like a tunic, but given fullness and shape by thin gold trimming on her chest that clung the material closer to her body. While with her other hand she twirled the new length of hair, arranged in thick waves of dark blonde. Her hair was adorned with a loose crown of fresh white lilies with dark green leaves.

As she made her way to the Great Hall, a hand suddenly grabbed her firmly by her wrist and twisted her in the other direction until she was facing a young man. As soon as her eyes fell upon his face, she tried to recognize him, but remembered at the second that they were in disguise, so she couldn’t actually know who he was by looking at him. But that didn’t stop her from observing him with detail. He was tall, but that wasn’t enough to discover his identity. With a lean build that was covered with rigid gold chest armor, molded with the curvature of a man chest. The armor covered a plain white shirt with another overlapping deep red garment that was cut in thick ridges. Scanning his entire outfit from the leather sandals to the short dark brown hair, the conclusion of the analysis was that he was dressed as a Roman soldier. An ancient sword strapped to his waist was proof enough.

With the hand he had grabbed her wrist with; he moved it down until he grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing it lightly. “You look…wonderful, what are you? A Greek goddess?” he asked in a light tone she didn’t recognize, with confusion in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

Blushing furiously from both the kissing and the compliment, she could hardly answer. “A forest nymph, actually.”

His eyes were traveling all through her body and she couldn’t help but fidget. He seemed to be distracted as he took various minutes to continue the conversation. “Well…you look dazzling…Ginny,” he spoke, struggling to end the sentence.

Ginny was surprised to be so easily recognize. “How did you know it was me?”

He was still staring so piercingly to her face, but recollected himself and glanced to the side. “Well you know me, when I want something; I do everything to achieve it.”

“Do I… know you? I mean…” Ginny asked anxious to find out who he was, and perhaps understand why her hand was burning with his touch.

He let out a soft chuckle, and arranged his hair. “Yeah well, I would guess that without the scar it is difficult to place me.”

At his words, Ginny’s world was instantly brightened. “Harry?” she asked excitedly.

“Am I that easy to discover?” he joked as he rubbed her hand with his thumb.

Ginny couldn’t believe what was happening. “What are you doing here?” Ginny asked, feeling her head lighter with each stroke of his thumb.

“Waiting for you actually,” he said in a cool voice.

“Me? Why?” she continued, confused about Harry’s motive.

He shifted in his place and moved to take her other hand. “I know it’s presumptuous,” he said in a tone that declared the contrary, “but I tried to do this since the ball was announced…I just want you to go to the Masquerade Ball with me.”

Something inside of Ginny seemed to burst, filing her entire body. For more than a minute, Ginny couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Harry! Harry Potter was asking HER to the ball. HARRY POTTER was asking her to the BALL!!!! “But…but what…”

“Please,” Harry spoke with great difficulty, the words barely coming out of his mouth, “Just say that you will be my date tonight.”

Unnoticed by Harry, Ginny stealthily pinched her arm, really not conceiving what was happening. Ginny could only nod in agreement; afraid she could let out an unladylike squeal of happiness.

“Perfect,” he expressed in a controlled manner, matching Ginny’s smile with a smirk. “Shall we go then?” He offered as he and Ginny started walking towards the Great Hall.

***

Harry was pacing nervously around the entire circumference of the common room, berating himself with every step he took. Now that dozens of boys and girls were walking by him in all kinds of costumes, Harry knew that not knowing each other’s disguises was a big mistake. How was he supposed to know which girl was Hermione? He couldn’t just go walking up to every girl with his arm stretched out in front of him hoping to see if his bracelet glowed like the rest of the Gryffindor boys were doing.

He stopped and looked up towards the girl’s dorm room; still nobody in sight. In a useless effort to try to control his nerves he tried to focus on the advice Sirius had given him days before. Although he had to admit that what Remus had told him had been the thing to stick more forcefully to his mind. It had been just as Sirius had finished talking with Harry, when Sirius had began walking away towards the main door, covered again with the Invisibility cloak, when Remus silently stopped Harry from walking and whispered to him, “If you are going to use ‘the rules’, just try to use them at your heart’s discretion.” Harry had to agree with Remus after hearing every one of the infamous rules.

But now as his ‘non-date’ date was about to start, he found certain comfort in having some sort of plan with the so-called rules. So, what was the first?

Rule #1, a tiny voice identical to Sirius’ said in his head. The first thing to do as soon as you see your date (Harry remembered having to clarify to Sirius that it wasn’t a date) is to shower her with compliments about how she looks (“But be sincere,” Lupin had interrupted that time).

Okay, compliments…(showing a big blank). Think, think…He had told Pavarti the night of the Yule Ball that she looked ‘nice’, but on this occasion it seemed insufficient. Need to practice, “Hello Hermione,” Harry mustered, shaking hands with the air in front of him, “you look very shiny tonight.” Harry winced, thankful that everybody who was looking at him oddly for talking to himself didn’t recognize him. Shiny?! What was that? “You look very smooth…NO!…sleek?” Was it his imagination or were all of his compliments better suited for a broom rather than a girl? He better think about something good, Hermione should be down any moment.

Just when he was going to continue practicing, this feeling hit him, he recognized it immediately. It was the same feeling that he had gotten when he meet up accidentally with Hermione in front of the Great Hall doors. He knew it was ridiculous to consider it, but it was as if he could sense Hermione’s presence. He scanned the room, there were many girls walking about, one dressed as a medieval harlequin, another with a very antique puffy skirt dress, and many more that just seemed to blend in the background, when he saw a specific girl, and something inside him just clicked. Mutely he started walking towards her, bumping as he walked with chairs and tables, as he found it impossible to take his eyes away from her. Could she really be Hermione? This girl standing at the base of the dormitory stairway was so…so…different. A slender figure adorned by a lustrous heavy fabric of a sharp bright ruby red color. Thin straps clung to her shoulders, falling straight to a round sensible neckline; her body was embraced with a tight corset-type bodice that marked her waist. The skirt flowed in a straight ‘A’ line to the floor. From the back, some of the material was hold together below her lower back in a kind of a tail that was just some inches longer than the rest of the skirt. Her skin was a velvety tone of soft peach; her hair was arranged in a complicated but elegant twist, with long curly tendrils of hair falling all along the hairline. But perhaps what was more entrancing was the deep scarlet color of her hair. It seemed to glow from the touch of the moon rays coming through the windows. When he finally was close enough, he clearly saw her baby-blue eyes staring directly at him. With his throat completely dry, he barely had the capacity to utter her name, “Hermione,” with a dazed tone that denounced recognition.

*

Hermione was totally conscious that she was extremely late; she appeared to be one of the last girls to go down the stairs, for there wasn’t any sound coming from the rest of the rooms. It is just that she was so nervous, and the worst part is that she didn’t know why. Last year she had been extremely cool when going out with Viktor. It hadn’t bothered her that he was an International Quidditch player; he was just been another boy to her. And the night had flowed incredibly smoothly, not counting Ron’s obvious rants of jealousy. Her logic was suffering an obvious malfunction, why was it that with Viktor, an older boy she had just met and this incredibly sought after guy, hadn’t disturbed her nerves one bit. But with Harry, this lovable best friend, she had known for five years, the idea was just unstabling.

Hermione walked deliberately slowly down the stairs, silently wondering if Harry was already in the common room waiting for her. As she mentally imagined him dressed in all kind of wild disguises, blushing at certain mental images (Hermione was sure Harry was totally anti-loin cloth), she suddenly was aware that she hadn’t a slightest idea of how Harry was going to dress. How was she even going to recognize him? She wasn’t aware of the radius you had to be from your partner for the bracelets to work. She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, just as he came to the last step of the staircase and saw an entire male population walking around in all kinds of costumes. Was Harry the one clanking around in a shiny silver armor suit? Or was he the one dressed as the huge brown hippogriff (how did he get those horse legs?) that was trotting along the common room? (why did boys always chose the strangest costumes?). But as she scanned various more costumes none seemed right. Just as she was starting to get desperate, a kind of lurch tugged at her stomach, a now familiar feeling appeared to happen whenever…Harry…She shifted her gaze to a direct path, until a wave of warmth enveloped her just from looking directly at him.

He looked…was there a word to describe him. His frame looked tall with a lean figure that seemed enhanced by the black fabric that his costume was made of. It looked like a tuxedo from the nineteen-century, cut to the waist from the front and with a long tail in the back. His trousers also black with a crisp line elongated his legs. The singular slim waist that always made Harry look so thin suited him perfectly as the dark scarlet color of a low vest marked it clearly. A white bow tie encircled his neck, completing the ensemble. And Hermione didn’t know if he had padding at the shoulder, but the tux jacket made his shoulders broader. He looked completely elegant and composed with a straight strong walk as he made way directly towards her. His hair was probably the only characteristic that gave him away, as it was as unruly as ever, but it looked different with a light brown shade. When he was finally looking directly at her, she saw herself in the hazel of his eyes. “Harry,” she said conveying in his single name doubt with certainty.

“Hermione,” Harry said with more strength this time, “you…you look…beautiful.” He knew that wasn’t what Sirius had meant with his Rule #1, but he hadn’t thought about it, the word just came out naturally, as if it was always there at the tip of his tongue, and it was waiting for the opportunity.

Harry’s low muster had electrified every single nerve of her body. It was just a simple word and she had heard it millions of times when people described things, “What a beautiful tone of lipstick,” (that was particularly from Pavarti) or “what a beautiful grade” (that was particularly from herself). But it was more because of Harry’s tone when he uttered it that gave the word meaning and strength, accompanied by the look of honesty from his eyes. “Thank you,” Hermione murmured hiding her gaze momentarily, while waiting for her face to recover its normal temperature. “And Harry…you look…very handsome,” she whispered as her temperature rose again. Feeling it was unfair that there wasn’t another adjective she could use to describe how good he looked, for she feared he wouldn’t be too flattered if she too called him beautiful.

Harry had never been more embarrassed before. Although he was always recognized by his Boy Who Lived status, and girls followed him just for that, he never considered himself to look anything remotely handsome. But as always, with every word that came out of Hermione’s mouth it was believable. “Thanks,” he responded shyly.

They stood for several minutes, feeling the uncomfortable silence nervousness brought. Hermione felt the necessity to escape it, so she said the first thing that she noticed. “You don’t have your glasses,” she noticed with a small tone of deception. Because even though his eyes could be seen clearer without the obstruction of lenses and his face was lighted, his bifocals seemed to be such a great part of what charactized Harry Potter, and it was strange to see him without them.

“Yeah, I know. I miss them,” he said as he stopped his hand from pushing his imaginary glasses up his nose, as it was accustomed to do. “Lupin helped me with that particular incantation; it was a little advance for my status. Fortunately and unfortunately it only lasts a day, so don’t get too accustomed to seeing my like this okay?” he joked lightly his small smile making him more familiar.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t ––wait! Oh my God, I can’t believe I didn’t notice immediately. You’re scar is gone!” Hermione said surprised, as she realized while observing the new combination of the brown hair with his white skin.

“Shhh, Hermione!” Harry said rapidly turning to see if nobody had heard her cry. “It’s not gone, it’s just obscured. Lupin said it was impossible to get rid of a scar with a nature like mine, so it’s just a chameleon charm,” Harry said sounding a little disappointed, when something got his attention. “Funny, I thought that would be the first thing that you would notice.”

“Honestly, Harry! I’m not always gaping at your scar am I?” she sounded a little offended.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he said this last sentence a little dazed. His gaze was so fixed on her eyes that she was getting uncomfortable. “You changed the color of your eyes.”

“Well, of course, I thought this was a great opportunity for a change of the dull brown,” she exclaimed trying to avoid the piercing of his eyes.

“Your eyes are everything but dull Hermione,” Harry expressed and immediately flushed by his statement that had come out before he could even think.

“Thank you,” she said meeting his gaze.

Harry knew it was time to move, but he couldn’t make the first step. He was so nervous, and he couldn’t remember Rule #2. What was it?! What?!?!? He didn’t want to see overly anxious in front of Hermione. So he skipped it and headed right to Rule #3, When you start your way to whatever place you’re going ALWAYS take her hand. (Harry had to complain to Sirius when he heard this rule, “I can’t take her hand!! That is a ‘date’ thing, and this isn’t a date!!” Before Sirius could rebut, Lupin had interrupted. “Then be a gentleman and offer her your arm.”) So that is what Harry did, he stepped a little to his side and bended his arm in a straight angle towards Hermione. “Should we go then?”

Hermione couldn’t help a small smile at Harry’s form. “Of course,” she answered as she very slowly slipped her arm through the crock of his elbow, enjoying the strength it provoked just to be lightly sustained by his arm. Just as Hermione was admiring how their arms looked linked together, she got a glimpse of a soft glow coming from the bracelet she was wearing. “Oh,” she let out a surprised noise, “I forgot about those,” she spoke more to herself, feeling ridiculous for not looking at them sooner. It was funny how she didn’t need it to find Harry in the end.

“Yeah me too,” Harry added looking at his own hand.

“Well then, let’s go,” Hermione, said before a nervous silence could begin, but when she gave the first step Harry didn’t follow. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s still a part missing from my costume,” he said shifting his feet slightly. “After refusing Sirius ridiculous opinion about a certain costume that will remain unnamed, he insisted that he wanted to give something to my ensemble, so…I want you to know what you think,” Harry exclaimed rather rapidly as if wanting to get it out of the way as quickly as possible.

Hermione just waited patiently; a little curious of what Sirius could have suggested that provoked such a blush on Harry’s cheeks. It was then when Hermione finally realized that on Harry’s other hand was a sleek top hat, of an obvious fine fabric. He shyly put it on his head and turned slightly towards her, not meeting her gaze. Hermione smiled at Harry’s misplaced insecurity, as she gently lifted her free hand to arrange the hat at a better angle. “It’s perfect,” she said and she was surprised with the casualness with which her hand arranged his lose hair behind his ears, “it completes your costume.”

The gentle brush of Hermione’s fingers on his ears made a strange reaction. For rather than making him jumpier as he had expected it would, it eased his nervous state. “Thanks,” he said as he started walking towards the portrait hole.

Hermione was having a difficult time walking; she had gotten carried away with the motif of her costume and had bought very high heels, to which she wasn’t accustomed. So her steps were shaky. Harry must have felt the tremble in her steps for he stiffened his arms that was supporting her weight and placed a gentle hand over her own, warming her entire body. She smiled at him, enjoying this comfortable feeling that was between them.

Before they knew it, they had arrived at the Great Hall. Several sounds of excitement and light music seemed to be coming from behind the great wooden door. Harry immediately remembered Rule #4. When you get to a door, always open it for her, then step aside, so that she can pass. This rule helps as an excuse to touch her…(“Honestly Padfoot!” Remus had interrupted immediately, Harry remembered. “What!” Sirius had responded affronted, then seeing Lupin’s unrelenting gaze he added, “I didn’t mean it in that way Moony you perverted mind! What I meant is to guide her through with his hand on her shoulder or something like that.” Harry had remained silent.)

So observing part of the rule, Harry stepped in front and pulled the heavy doors, pressing himself against it so that she could pass unobstructed. Hermione let go momentarily of Harry’s arm as she passed, feeling Harry’s light touch of his hand on the small of her back. Their arms went to each other as soon as they stepped in; stopping dead in their tracks watching with awe the transformation of the Great Hall.

It was decorated like nothing they had seen before; they had been expecting the traditional Halloween fest decoration, with the floating pumpkins and live bats flying around, but what they saw was something completely different. The bewitched sky that reflected the outside sky, must have been added an extra charm for not only did each of the reflected night stars glow stronger than other days, but they were slowly falling in small strings, making a light waterfall effect. The four house tables were gone, replaced with hundreds of small four and two people tables, covered with silvery table clothes. Thousands of different sized bubbles floated idly throughout the crowds. The stonewalls were covered with intertwisted angling arcs of white and silver silk. Everything seemed to be decorated in white or clear tones, to let the color be provided by the many array of costumes of the students.

Hermione’s face showed her happy surprise. “It looks wonderful.”

Harry tightened his grip. “Let’s go find a table.”

***

Something strange was happening to his face. His lips were quirking as they tried to extend into something that was obviously not his normal sneer. They had been sitting in on of the far left two-people tables. But it was a very strange night altogether. The first’s moments he was angry with himself for sustaining the thought that she looked… well, he couldn’t even voice the word. But that hadn’t stopped him from staring at her all the way to the Great Hall. On one point he actually froze in his place when he realized he had been lamenting that she had changed the color of her hair; the vibrant red would have combined perfectly with the pristine white of her dress. After the tenth time of reminding himself that this was business, he steadied himself and continued with his intense gaze. However, after they sat down, Ginny started talking about some old family anecdote, at first he thought that it would make it easier to ignore her, but even that wasn’t true. The things she was talking about, he was finding them interesting…

“…what they didn’t know is that even at the tender age of eight I could do a very accurate imitation of my mom…”

Even though she was talking of some stupid childhood prank, he was immerged in the plot. It was something to do about how she got back at her brothers taunts, but the interesting part was how she lied, cheated and plotted in order to achieve her purpose. And she had enjoyed it, obvious by the delighted smirk gracing her lips as she retold the events. He would never had guessed she could be this conniving, he had always seen her as this stupid little midget who was deluded enough to have a crush on Potter. And what he had thought would be a completely dull period before he got through with his plan, was actually enjoyable (shudder).

Ginny couldn’t suppress the laughter after remembering the faces of her brothers. Normally she would try to act mature and composed in front of Harry, so that the image of the “little sister” wouldn’t stick. But tonight there was something different about him, he wasn’t treating her like a sibling, wasn’t acting all protective as usual. It made her feel more relaxed, like she could actually talk to him about something, rather then trying to impress him.

He had been silent during the duration of her retelling, but she had seen a particularly small smile cross his unusually thin lips. “I can’t believe you did that,” he finally spoke, minutes later after she had finished, with a kind of silent admiration.

“Yeah, well they deserved it,” Ginny said nonchalantly tucking away a strand of hair. “That would teach them never to build a magic rocket with a girl’s only Witching Wendy doll.” She smiled again after finishing her story. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said while straightening in her seat. “With a family like yours, I doubt I was the only one doing pranks.”

He stiffened immediately at this topic of discussion, he didn’t care about Potter’s household, he only new he lived with Muggles; what he was supposed to say? He couldn’t risk being discovered, not this early on. So he thought hard at something he could use. A small smirk appeared on his face when a memory came to mind.

“Well there was this one time; my fath…my uncle,” he fumbled, did Potter lived with an uncle? “he was bugging me as usual because when I was little I refused to participate in some…” what could he say? He couldn’t very well let out that it was certain dark situations, “tricks of his trade, so naturally he decided to punish me. In this occasion it was in the way of making me clean after…my pet…cat,” he was having a hard time changing his experiences to something Muggle. “I was so angry at him, for making me do servant stuff,” he realized too late that he had let something uncharacteristic of Potter slip, but Ginny didn’t seem to notice. Quite the contrary.

“Like that was something new,” she spat angrily.

“Yeah, well…I was cleaning, throwing the waste to the bucket he had so gloatingly provided, and I wasn’t even paying attention to it, afterwards I just threw the bucket to the garbage; I didn’t think more of it. It wasn’t until my uncle sat down to his desk and opened a drawer that he realized it was full of ‘waste’ from my cat, further scrutiny found all the drawers full of it. Of course I said I hadn’t done that, but he didn’t care. He punished me of course, but…somehow it was worth it, just to see the look of disgust he had when he took out his hand full of…I think that was one of my first signs of magic,” he finished a little smile spreading through his thin lips as he reminisced.

When he turned to look at Ginny, he had expected anything from a girl, except what he saw. Ginny was trembling in laughter, a few tears in her eyes and she clapped, “That was priceless, and well done, the git deserved nothing better.”

He spent a few minutes just admiring her as she cleaned the tears off her eyes, and tried to regain composure. “Your nothing like what I thought you were going to be.”

Ginny turned her attention immediately to him, surprised at his words, and at the sudden intensity of his gaze. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I don’t know,” he sincerely answered as he turned to look at the falling stars.

***

Harry and Hermione were sitting stock still on their two-person table; still gazing at the decorations, for Harry had to admit it was easier to stare at the wall than at Hermione. By that time Harry had already complied with Rule #5 and #6, which just made him pull out the chair for her and #6 was a variant of Rule #1 (Rule #6 is just to continue along with the compliments, show her that you are paying attention to her) So Harry was left to wonder on what to comment on, not because he didn’t find something of Hermione to compliment, but because he didn’t know where to start. So as the words, ‘your dress is nice’, came out of his mouth, he winced at the cowardice it showed, for the original statement was along the lines of ‘the dress looks wonderful on you. Hermione had just smiled more broadly and uttered thanks.

Harry had to admit that he was completely enjoying the evening; after that short awkward moment at the beginning, conversation had begun to flow comfortably. However he could still feel something different, like how his stomach trembled when he was talking; assuming it was just hunger, he wished the food would be served quickly. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason why he felt so completely different tonight; perhaps it was the way the delicious food seemed to melt all through his stomach, or how the cool cider bubbled in his mouth, maybe it was that he wasn’t the center of attention and was comfortable all around. Although maybe, just maybe it was because he was sitting in the Great Hall with Hermione, enjoying the fluid conversation and that even though if you saw Hermione right now with her “costume” you couldn’t guess it was her, Harry knew it was really her behind it, and he couldn’t stop his mind from seeing her the way she really was. He especially missed how her eyes sparkled when she laughed.

However, great things came out of their costumes. Harry felt remarkably free; he spilled some cider and didn’t feel embarrassed, for once he felt that all the eyes weren’t upon him. This made him feel more relaxed and less nervous. Hermione seemed to feel this change in his demeanor and she copied his attitude.

Hermione was loving this, for on this magical night, she got the opportunity to play the stress-free girl; enjoying the lights, the music and the company of a handsome guy without worrying about anything else; especially after Harry and her touched fingers accidentally while trying to grab the same glass. (Yes, no guilty feelings here. Why should there be?)

A tall dark haired man stood in front of the crowd and by the way he extended his hands outward to gain the attention, Harry surmised it was Dumbledore. (Though it was a hard guess due to his fireman attire)

“Good evening to you all, I will not interrupt this joyous dance with a tired speech. However I would like to invite the couples to dance to our opening waltz, after that our musical entertainment will be provided by our guest band. So put on the waltz!” Fireman Dumbledore spoke, extending his hand towards a very stern medieval queen. They walked to the middle of the room and waited for the rest of the dance partners to join them. Harry watched from his seat as people passed by their table, his hand twitching with anticipation. The waltz was the easiest of their practiced dances, but he still felt he had various glitches. Moreover the voice of Sirius immediately sprung into his mind, in concern of Rule #7 (“Rule #7,” Sirius had started somberly, “ is one of the important ones, this rule is the one that helped your dad and me the most to get...” a loud and exaggerated clearing of the throat by Lupin stopped Sirius sentence. “Ok, ok, maybe when you’re a little older,” Sirius continued after sharing an intense gaze with Lupin. “As I was saying, girls love to dance Harry, even the girls who say that they don’t want to dance, want to dance…now don’t ask me why, that question I haven’t answered even at my advanced age.” Sirius was taking this a little bit too serious thought Harry as he watched his godfather pacing the length of the room with his hands in his hair. Taken advantage of the lack of attention from Sirius, Lupin inched closer to Harry. “Just remember to ask the girl first in a courteous way,” Lupin had whispered. “What are you mumbling Moony?” Sirius had suddenly turned his attention back to Harry. Moony not wanting his friend too feel alienated just responded, “Honestly Padfoot your Rules are nothing more than the normal guides of chivalry that most EDUCATED people follow,” Remus had invented. “When you are finished insulting the very Rules that helped you in sixth year with—” an other more extravagant and loud clearing of the throat by Lupin put an end to Sirius statement.)

With that last ounce of advice, he extended his hand to her, allowing a low muster to come out of his mouth, “Would you like to dance?”

A small shy smile graced Hermione’s glossed lips. “I would love to.” He stood up and repeated naturally Rule#5. After helping Hermione out of her seat, he offered his hand again; Hermione didn’t falter to accept. While walking to the dance floor, threading through other couples, their hands gave a tiny shift, but just enough to give the opportunity to intertwine their fingers. After this change, Harry unconsciously tightened his grip, feeling as Hermione did the same thing. It was actually kind of disappointing losing the sensation of her thin delicate fingers between his, when they reached a dancing spot. Nevertheless as they got into their dance position, having her between his arms again rewarded him. He didn’t want to admit it, but because of all the ballroom dancing lessons, the sensation of holding her was becoming addicting.

Maybe Hermione couldn’t pinpoint the exact time when their fingers locked together, however she could detail the exact feeling it brought; to feel Harry’s hand almost cover hers. She couldn’t find words to describe the sensation that enwrapped her body in that instant.

As they stood there, in their practiced waltz position, they were physically aware of each other, and their nerves were wreaking havoc in their bodies. As a classical band appeared along the stand to the right of the Hall, the soft music of the waltz began to be heard. Harry immediately recognized the familiar cords of the Emperor’s Waltz. Gazing at Hermione’s new baby blue eyes wasn’t as frightening as her intense chocolate eyes; the soft material of her dress was smooth against the palm of his hand, and after having enjoyed the feeling of fingers twined together, it wasn’t that terrifying to hold her hand. He wasn’t quite sure if the combination of these factors made him feel this sense of comfort and freedom, but what he did know was that as he began to move to the rhythm of the music, the steps flowed smoothly.

Something was different this night and Hermione knew it. For some reason Harry’s hand on her back wasn’t sending shocks through her bones, but was a safe strong support, and she yearned to feel the rush that his hand brought. For the first time since the ballroom classes begun, she was blissfully comfortable in his arms. The rhythm poured. They were finally dancing like it was meant to be. Their movements perfectly coordinated. Their feet, miraculously never meet in a painful collision, not even because of Hermione’s heel clad shoes.

Please don’t ask Harry to explain the reason of why they were dancing perfectly in this particular occasion, because he was too busy twirling Hermione to care. The environment felt care free and there was no bug-eyed person hovering around, judging their movements. The enchanted stars illuminated Hermione’s red curls and Harry was sporting a wonderful sincere smile. All of the reasons above, plus the reasons that their arms felt so right around each other, made Harry and Hermione dance joyfully away for two waltzes without even noticing it.

***

Ginny had danced with Harry before, and since that occasion of their first day of ballroom dancing class, she had been waiting for that moment when she could dance with Harry again. However she couldn’t believe how much his dancing style changed in a few weeks. There was a new firmness to the hand behind her back and a very stiff control of the movements. In fact, Ginny was surprised at the mechanical way he was dancing; his gaze stuck in an imaginary spot behind Ginny.

“Harry look, I know you didn’t enjoy the dancing lessons, but that doesn’t mean that you have to have this ugly bored old face,” Ginny berated, giving him a mock-scowl. “You know what we need to do?” she asked receiving a blank look from Harry. “We need more floating.”

“Floating,” Harry asked bewildered meeting her eyes for the first time since they started dancing.

Ginny hesitated under his piercing gaze. “Yes, we need more of it, we haven’t moved from this spot since we started dancing.”

“I don’t float,” He stated in what seemed like a forced steadiness.

Ginny’s face got serious. “Well you need to start,” she said with a playful forcefulness, pulling him into a wide arc.

Harry stumbled and tried futily to try and steer her back to a more formal style. “Ginny stop it! This isn’t the correct way to do the waltz.”

“So?” she asked smiling widely as she twirled pulling him along. “Since when do you follow the rules Harry?”

“People are looking at us,” he said clenching his teeth.

“So what if we don’t dance according to the rules, so what if we move all around the floor, so what if we look like fools, as long as we enjoy the moment and have actual fun.”

He just looked at her, at how the soft curls flowed through the air as she danced, at how her face glowed with an inner light. “But…” he started to hesitate. “I’ve always danced according to the rules of social conduct and etiquette.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound like as if you’ve done this a lot before.”

He hurriedly cleared his throat, “No of course not! I mean…according to that old bat Trelawney.”

Ginny laughed as she grabbed him tighter and twirled in larger arcs. “Well that should be enough incentive to break the rules.”

Harry’s lips twitched, as he tried to suppress a smile. “Alright, but let me do the floating, your way is just too girly.”

“Oh, I wonder why?” Ginny expressed sarcastically, as Harry tightened his arms against her, and began to twirl her all along the length of the dance floor.

***

Well why don’t just pinch Harry right now to see if he was dreaming. Why was it possible for Harry to think he was in a dream like state? Well it might be that he was actually having fun! After time seemed to slow down for the waltz, a band called “The Chameleons” appeared in the stand to the right of the dance floor. There were a weird lot. It had seemed strange to Harry that Dumbledore had brought such a formal looking band, a woman and a man that were standing at the front of the band, appeared to be the lead singers. They were all clad in simple casual black clothes, and didn’t look out of the ordinary. Harry was about to comment of what kind of music could they provide, when the man started to physically change in front of his eyes as the band in the back began to play an old style swing introduction. The man’s clothes changed to a late fifties suit, and his face transformed until he had bright blue eyes. Some of the girls beside Harry screamed in recognition, “Oh! Look, he’s Frank Sinatra!”

However the magical part of the evening wasn’t supplied by the group of musicians that seemed to morph into the artist they were going to interpret; as it was happening right now with the man that was currently singing an exact version of Sinatra’s “Come fly with me.” Harry could feel a very different type of magic from the one that flowed from within when using his wand. This particular kind of magic was coming from his legs, his hips, his arms, torso, hands that seemed to be in a sort of agreement with Hermione’s contra parts. They were dancing to this type of swing, even though they had only two classes viewing this kind of dance. But this wasn’t as step oriented as the waltz, they just flowed, especially Hermione as Harry twirled her around. The part that she most enjoyed was when her dress would lift several inches from the floor in a great swirl of crimson fabric. Not even the corset part of the dress could constrain her movements. Harry was bewildered with this freedom, and most importantly of guiding Hermione at her waist in the turns. It had a totally invigorating sensation to grab her by her waist into a tight embrace before letting her go into another turn.

They seemed to cover all of the dancing area of the Great Hall, before Harry noticed that the singer had changed into another song from Sinatra. As Harry shared a rapid gaze with Hermione while holding together in an embrace he took a moment to listen to the lyrics to see if he recognized the song.

What a day this has been
What a rare mood I’m in

Too true Mr. Sinatra, Harry thought wryly to himself as he turned Hermione towards him, pulling her so that her back was to his chest. Letting her nest in this position three seconds more than necessary.

There’s a smile on my face
For the whole human race

So wide that my cheeks hurt, Hermione thought as she glanced backwards from her position towards Harry completely enjoying this variation of an embrace.

All the music of life seems to be
Like a bell that is ringing for me

Who ever said that dancing wasn’t fun? Harry asked the heavens as he twirled Hermione several times in her spot. He conveniently didn’t remember that he was the one that had said that very phrase. However this wasn’t even dancing, well at least not correct dancing. He was positive that they weren’t following the pre-established steps of the swing, or if this song even went with swing choreography. The only thing that was clear in his head is that he was laughing, and smiling and enjoying himself completely just moving around in the dance floor with Hermione. Especially because she seemed to be having just as much fun, her smile had grown to an unvisited length, he could almost count all of her teeth, she was enjoying the feel of her hair twirling in the air in sync with her. She was especially proud of her twists and turns in the difficult shoes she was wearing.

Harry was also enjoying the song, it’s seemed to mix very well with this delight that dancing had turned into.

And from the way that I feel
When that bell starts to peal
I would swear I was falling
I could swear I was falling
It’s almost like being in love

And that was the moment, when he unconsciously let go of Hermione just at the end of a turn, he hadn’t listen to that part of the song before, and only now did it had that full effect. It was silly really and he knew it as he stood stock still at the center of the rest of the dancing mob. Silly to get this freaked out by some lyrics from and oldie song. It really meant nothing, it didn’t reflect how he was feeling right now, of course, everybody knew that, right? Harry looked around at the rest of the people as though waiting for an answer to his mental question.

Now, Harry wasn’t the only one to blame for breaking the connection while they were dancing, because Hermione had also let go of Harry’s hand at the same moment when she had heard the lyrics. It was totally ridiculous to get all wound up over just some simple lyrics that meant nothing to her. Because it meant nothing, nothing. Just words that a certain writer had put on together to write another great song for Mr. Sinatra, or maybe it wasn’t even exclusively for him, ugh this wasn’t the time to be arguing about original singers. The point was that it was just a song that she was really enjoying because of the rhythm. Yes that was it; the rhythm was very moving and fun to dance to. Hermione felt so stupid for thinking more of it.

When Harry decided that it was absurd to be putting so much thought into a silly song, he searched for Hermione, whom he had lost between the crowd. She wasn’t difficult to find, although he had been looking for her brown locks ten whole seconds before he remembered that she was as a redhead today. He smiled timidly at her as he carefully maneuvered his way through the twisting bodies coming closer to her, silently wishing that she wouldn’t ask the reason of the sudden lose of coordination.

Just as Harry and Hermione had gotten very few seconds trying to get back into the rhythm of the song, it came to an end. They stood only half a second as the group had changed again; now four other singers had joined the one who was previously Sinatra. The five of them were transforming again just as the music started, slowly. Meaning it was a slow song. Dear God!

Harry didn’t know what to do next, he was still holding unto Hermione by her waist, waiting to see if she gave of any indication as what she wanted to do. However she wasn’t looking at him, instead her gaze was looking up at the band, perhaps trying to recognize the singers as they changed into five very handsome and different guys. (Harry couldn’t help but remember Rule #8 You have to dance a slow song. Harry remembered sitting down, waiting for the rest of the rule, but apparently that was all, so he couldn’t stop from asking why? “Because it’s ‘the’ slow dance Harry. It’s a disguised opportunity of getting close to the girl. It is a close embrace that masquerades as a dance,” Sirius was talking a little too vehemently and Harry glanced at Lupin to see his input, yet he was silent, and for the first time had nothing to contradict.)

Harry did remember that after spending a various seconds just letting that rule sink in, he reacted and tried to make Sirius remember that it wasn’t a date. Sirius had acted rather strangely just looking directly at Harry for several minutes, and rolling his eyes after not getting the reaction he was hoping for. Perhaps sensing Sirius frustration, Lupin had intervened and said that it would still be a good gesture to dance with Hermione, even in a non-date tone.

Hermione wasn’t even really paying attention to the transformation of the singers, her gaze was just lost, mirroring her emotions. She didn’t know what to do, part of her knew that the dance had ended and that they should go sit down, and enjoy a friendly conversation while the real couples danced to this type of song. However the other part of her, the part that made her feet feel like lead so that se couldn’t move from that spot, just wanted to dance with Harry. And this part of her was what scared her.

Harry didn’t even know what his own body was doing as he got closer to Hermione and grabbed her hand from where it was resting at her side, bringing the united hands to the dance position. Hermione turned immediately as soon as she registered his touched, and understood the silent question made by his movement and aided by his eyes. She trembled softly as her hand traveled back to his shoulder and got in place, unaware of Harry’s hand also trembling as he enveloped her waist.

And so they started, moving together in a very slow pace, merely inching their feet from the floor. However Harry was purposely letting a considerable gap between them, just for security reasons. Yet he could still feel her nearness and was getting warm all over. He needed to concentrate on something else, and the lyrics of the song started, and decided to listen rather than to feel.

I don't know how
I don't know why
But girl it seems
You've touched my life
You're in my dreams
You're in my heart
I'm not myself
When we're apart

Well the lyrics were…interesting. How could Harry think that a slow song would be about anything else but of love? Preferring to analyze the lyrics rather than acknowledging that he was very subtly inched closer to Hermione, his mind rambled on. So, it looks like it about a guy discovering something about a girl, he thought as his arm pulled Hermione a little more closely to him.

Unexpected feelings, huh? Thought Hermione as she decided to occupy her mind in something besides Harry’s arm around her waist. Someone who feels different when the other person isn’t around them…Hermione was inching closer, every step you took. Like when I am not around…She almost bit her tongue as if she was actually talking and trying to stop what she was going to say.

Something strange has come over me
A raging wind across my seas
And girl you know that your eyes are to blame
And what am I suppose to do
If I can't get over you
And come to find that you don't feel the same

I understand the poor guy, thought Hermione, the eyes of the person are so easily blamed. She turned towards Harry is a moment of weakness and immediately got caught in his eyes, however she was looking beyond the hazel, back to his normal piercing green eyes, not noticing that by now there was absolutely no space between their bodies.

Cause I'm falling, falling
Girl I'm falling for you
And I pray you're falling too
I've been falling, falling
Ever since the moment
I laid eyes on you
Falling ,falling, falling
When I laid eyes on you
Falling, falling, falling

Falling, towards a girl, or for a girl, because you can’t take your eyes of that person, Harry thought as he continued to peer strongly at Hermione’s baby blue eyes, hopelessly missing the depth of her chocolate brown eyes. He was surprised that Hermione met the intensity of his gaze, but he was enjoying it.

I lose my step
I lose my ground
I lose myself
When you're around
I'm holding on
For my life
To keep from drowning
In your eyes, yeah

Harry slowly turned to another direction; he needed to stop looking at Hermione so intensely, something was happening to his body and his mind. His breath increased, his head was throbbing as thoughts were fighting to be free. Hermione was both sad and relieved at the loss of eye contact, her entire body was aching, enthralled from the sensation of being so close for so long to Harry.

Girl what have you done to me
To make me fall so desperately
To think that I don't even know your name, no no
And how am I supposed to live
If I can't get over this
If you decide that you don't feel the same ,yeah

Hermione’s knees were barely surviving the soft movement of the dance, they felt just about to buckle. However after losing the eye contact they slightly changed their position, their heads had come closer to each other. Hermione slowly lead her head to the side of Harry’s, mutely guided by the subtle crisp smell that irradiated from his neck. Hermione had never been so close to get a full hit of his cologne (wait, when did he start wearing it? Or has he always worn it?) It was enwrapping, her hand that was correctly positioned on his bicep, slowly moved onto his shoulder, enjoying the feel of the fabric of his jacket against her sensitive palm. She was so close to the crock of Harry’s neck that she closed her eyes to inhale deeply Harry’s scent, she could actually feel her breath going through her lungs infected by Harry’s husky aroma. As he was lost in thought an unexpected touch occurred, as her cheek came in contact with Harry’s, just for a second as the both gave a step from the dance, it was so fleeting that it could have gone unnoticed by the unwilling spectators. Yet for Hermione it changed her entire view; if it was possible to melt human flesh than Harry hand achieved it with touch. Her cheek felt hot, smoldering, boiling…debilitating. Is your best friend supposed to melt skin?

Cause I'm falling, falling
Girl I'm falling for you
And I pray you're falling too
I've been falling, falling

Even with the thick fabric covering his arms, his pores came wildly alive as her hand past up all through his arm to get to his upper shoulder. A simple gesture really but it opened up the opportunity to close the space even more, so to close up the space. He tighten his grip around her slim waist, to the point were she was completely enveloped in his arms. He could feel the heat from her body provoked by the exertion of the previous dance, same heat that was probably activating the sweet flowery scent of her perfume. Just as he was losing himself in her scent, it happened… It was a total fluke, it was actually because of a misstep of his part, he step right when it should have been left, but because of such close proximity it resulted in a very subtle graze. It sent such an electrical charge throughout his body, as if he had been touched by a lighting bolt right at the face.

And from electricity, magnetism was born; that attraction to wanting to feel the sensation again, to feel her face anew.

Her movements were so small that it could have passed undetected; it also wouldn’t have gotten her so close to Harry’s face, if he hadn’t been doing the exact same small movements towards her. Yet their faces met half way, both of them were so unconscious of wanting to feel each other that they were so aware of how soft and hot and blissful it felt to be this close to one another. While in reality Hermione’s temple and the upper part of her cheek, was the only thing that was touching Harry’s chin, he had actually never felt this physically close to her. All Hermione could do was close her eyes, and enjoy, for in reality that is all that she wanted to do.

Falling
Will you stay or will you go
Heaven
Heaven knows what my future holds
Questions
Questions linger on my mind
From daybreak till dark of night
I don't know what's come over me

He didn’t. She didn’t. Neither knew what was coming over them, and apparently neither cared. For the only certainty that was clear in their heads is that this complete entrapment on each other was…was…

Can't you see that I'm falling, falling
Girl I'm falling for you
And I pray you're falling too, yeah yeah
Falling, falling(girl I'm falling)
Ever since the moment
I laid eyes on you

And just like that it ended; the band rapidly transformed again, and started singing some fast song. The dancing floor got flooded again by lot of people moving to the fast beat. Their faces felt the last caress as they moved their heads apart. They shared one last deep stare before their faces became bemused. Something totally unexpected had happened, neither one knew what it was, but they could feel it, almost touch the difference in the air between them.

However Harry couldn’t think of it, he couldn’t. Harry dropped his arms from holding Hermione, and she took a step away from him. “Do you want to sit down,” Harry asked clearing his throat before he spoke.

Hermione could only respond by nodding her head and walking ahead of Harry back to their seats. Hermione finished her glass of cider almost in one sip, her head felt so hot and confused. After looking at the glass for what seem like minutes, she didn’t know what to do; she couldn’t bring herself to look at Harry. She felt so strange. She felt guilty and happy.

Harry was watching Hermione out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to venture a full glance towards her. She wasn’t acting normally, and she was avoiding his gaze (like he was, yet he didn’t remember that). He had done something wrong. He knew it; he just wasn’t made for this situation. He had totally decided to forget that now Hermione wasn’t only his best friend, but the girlfriend of his other best friend. Had he offended her in some way?

They were sitting down at the table for a good ten minutes without talking; neither knew what to say, or what the other was thinking. A tiny red velvet dessert menu appeared at the table but neither one pay heed to it.

“Hermione, do you want to go…” Harry couldn’t finish the sentence, because he didn’t know what to suggest. Go take a walk? Go outside? Go do something for her not to be so lost anymore.

Yet, the lack of decision from Harry made Hermione totally mistake his intentions. She completely misunderstood him, and thought that he was the one who was so freaked out that he wanted to go back to the common room. Had she done something so horrible to make Harry want to run to his room? She didn’t want to go against Harry’s wishes on this. If all he wanted was not to be with her anymore, there was nothing she could do. So she sighed, and put on a strong façade. “Yeah, your right we’d better go back to the common room, I think I did enough dancing for tonight…”

Harry was not so surprised by her answer but more of put down. He was actually wishing that his instinct about something going on with Hermione would be wrong. However he was sadden by her decision to leave, and he couldn’t well force her to stay here with him. He gave her a faint smile as he stood up and helped her with her seat. They started walking slowly between the tables, fighting with big and obstructing costumes as they made their way between the tables. They finally made it to the door, Harry opened it letting her pass, giving the Great Hall a final glance before closing the door behind them.

They were walking through the halls silently, and consciously putting a space between them. Harry was uncomfortable; he didn’t like the situation between them. He said he was going to make Hermione enjoy herself to the fullest, and he wasn’t about to ruin it, because of something he may had done. She was one of his best friends, he couldn’t forget that.

“Hermione, do you want to give Ron a visit before we go back?” Harry asked.

Hermione stopped and thought about Harry’s proposition. A part of her brain felt immediately guilty about his proposition, for it saddened her tremendously to realize she hadn’t thought about Ron all night. She felt ridiculous; this entire night was for Harry to feel better. That had been her main purpose, and here she was being dramatic because of something that was probably so stupid. And like always, leave it to Harry to be the kind, sweet, thoughtful friend, who put his friends first. “That sounds great, we can tell him how beautiful the Masquerade Ball was,” Hermione answered smiling at Harry.

Harry was relieved to see her smile and agree with his suggestion, most of all he was relieved that all the way through the halls leading to the hospital wing, they went back to talking without weirdness, laughing about the “special” costumes that some of the students showed off.

Just as they were getting to the hospital door, Hermione was laughing out so hard at Harry’s theories about what unusual costumes would Snape look better with. (“…just imagine that PLUS feathers”) Hermione realized that her laugh was echoing all through the halls so she put her hands in her mouth to try to muffle it. Harry was laughing at Hermione’s attitudes, the way her cheeks flushed a cute red when she laughed. He opened the door, and was about to let Hermione go in, when someone from inside the hospital room came running right at them. Hermione was pushed to the side, as the person went running away before she could be seen. Hermione recuperated from the assault and turned rapidly just in time to see the ends of a green grass skirt as it disappeared around a corner. Was that, Pavarti? Why did she run away like that?

“Well, that was unexpected, being tackled like that. Are you alright?” Harry asked as he still held onto her arms from her back where he had detained her when she was pushed.

“Yeah, it was just strange,” Hermione answered, feeling Harry’s hands still on her arms.

Harry just shrugged and gestured for Hermione to go in. The hospital wing felt particularly alone without Madam Pomfrey busying about the beds. Ron’s bed was surrounded by curtains to create a little privacy. When they walked closer to Ron’s bed there was a chair by his bed, Hermione sat down, while Harry stood at the other side of his bed. Harry watched carefully as Hermione described the evening’s decoration and gave special detail to the food to an unconscious Ron. His heart ached for her, yes Ron was his best friend almost like his brother, yet Hermione had lost both best friend and boyfriend at the same time. It was a good hour, before they decided it was time to leave. Harry turned the other way as he saw that Hermione was about to say goodbye. As Hermione was leaning towards Ron, she saw something on the floor. It was a bright pink flower, it was still fresh, and it looked like the flowers that were in Pavarti’s crown. Then, was it really Pavarti who ran out of here? But why did she run away? And most importantly what was she doing in here with Ron, rather than at the Ball? Hermione took the flower with her and to bend again to kiss the top of Ron’s forehead. After saying goodbye Harry and Hermione made their way back to the common room.

***

Ginny had never danced so much before, and she never knew that Harry would be the one who was dancing with her. This night was turning to be a real dream come true. Harry was acting so differently, and treating her like a real girl, not like a little sister as he would always make her feel. He would stare so deeply into her eyes, and hugged her so close to him. To this moment they had danced all of the slow songs, and he had guided her so gently along with the music, his hand had caressed her face as he moved her hair behind her ear. Was this really the Harry she had know from the past years, the one who visited her house and never really paid any attention to her? Because tonight he was a totally different person, he wasn’t talking a lot with her, most of the time she did all the talking and he would just smile; a small but full smile.

Although she wasn’t even looking at her watch she was sure that midnight was approaching, some couple had been discussing that the time was near when their identities would be revealed, as the charms were going to dissolve. Ginny was excited, up until now it was all a fantasy, but by the arrival of midnight she would be able to confirm that indeed Harry Potter was with her. WITH HER!!!!

He knew it was almost midnight; some kids were talking about it as they danced. Most of all he knew that it was almost time for his plan to take full effect. But…but…what was this feeling that didn’t want the minutes to advance. What was this feeling of just wanting to be dancing with her all night? What happened to his well prepared plan to make her pay? To humiliate her? When did this passion for vengeance had transformed into something else? Something, that just wanted to keep her in his arms? This was exactly how he had planned it, dancing with her in the middle of the dance floor, just in time for the charms to dissolve, and for her to see….well to…He just…He could do it, of course, he… could…

Harry was acting very strangely to Ginny’s opinion; he kept moving her around the dance floor. Sometimes he would guide her directly to the door and he seemed like he wanted to walk away, but then he changed his mind and would move to the center. Right now they were dancing at the very center of the dance floor, when he suddenly took her firmly from her upper arms and brought her close to him. She closed her eyes in an intense anticipation. Her lips were trembling as hard as the rest of her body, as her breath increased.

He looked at her face, at how innocent and vulnerable she stood in front of him, with her eyes closed and awaiting. His hand went up to her face and touched the air above her cheek, less than an inch away from her actual skin. It was as if two forces were acting over his hands. One that needed to touch her sweet face, and the other that was sure that he had gone crazy. He felt completely out of his senses he knew what was coming, but a tiny voice just needed to speak. “I need to tell you something,” he said as he closed the space between their faces. His gaze went directly to her rosy lips. “I don’t know what happened, I don’t know if it is possible for you to feel it…To understand,” he was breathing hard, right over her skin, she still didn’t open her eyes. “But I just want…” he said as his hand finally cupped her cheek, “I just want…” he continued as he wrapped his arm against her waist.

“What?” Ginny weakly question, feeling her legs tremble at his touch.

“You, Weasley,” he breathed huskily as he trapped her lips with his.

Ginny who had been feeling his hot breath caress his skin gasped in surprise when he touched her cheek, and enveloped her in his embrace, but from then on she was lost. His lips were rough but his kiss firm, he only hesitated for a second while he steadied his lips with hers, and just as fast, he kissed her with such strength, such profoundness, and hugged her so tight to his chest, that she felt faint. Her knees felt so weak as he slowed down the intensity of the kiss that she grabbed onto his shoulders. Then a strange feeling went through their bodies, like a cold numbness running from their heads to their toes, and then warming back up in the opposing direction. After a few minutes, he separated his face slowly, but did not move away from her.

Ginny was recuperating from the kiss, and from the unexpected sensation of what felt like cold and hot flashes. She couldn’t open her eyes, as she was still lost in the moment, this kiss, was like nothing she could’ve imagine, it was like…Wait. Something clicked in the back of her mind. “What did you call me?” she asked as she opened her eyes, to look right into a pool of grey. It took her a few seconds for her eyes to travel all through his face, to recognize immediately that pale face, the blond hair. She felt like throwing up. “Malfoy!!!” she screamed as she swatted his hand away from her cheek, and pushed him away. The entire Great Hall had gone on this great upheaval as the disguises faded, girls were shrieking asking their dates if they looked good, guys laughing at their friends after realizing what they have been wearing. So nobody paid attention to Ginny and her unlikely partner.

“YOU?! It was YOU?! All this time…it…YOU!!!” Ginny didn’t know what to say, her brain was working on overload. All this time, and the enjoyable moments all this conversation, and it had been HIM, the guy she loathed the most. “Why? Why?” she couldn’t continue, she started pacing around the area of the tower, gesturing wildly. “What the Hell…”

Draco was just looking at her at her angry and almost desperate scowl. He didn’t know what he was expecting really. And he got irritated, yet not at Ginny, oddly enough, but at himself for standing there and looking at her. Resolute, he turned around and walked surprisingly rapidly through the crowd out of the hall.

Ginny saw as he was walking away, and decided that no one would leave her without answers. She almost ran, pushing people out of the way, thankfully she caught up to him before he could disappear.

“You didn’t answer my question Malfoy! What the Hell?!?!” she screamed as she forcefully grabbed his arm and turned him around.

“Look, Weasley don’t get all crazy,” Malfoy started, recuperating from the initial reaction of Ginny, and shook her arm away.

“What the hell is this Malfoy?” Ginny repeated. She felt so sad and yet so angry. He had completely fooled her; she had been such an idiot to think that it was Harry. She wanted to cry, but not because of the deception, but because of a realization that she didn’t want to dwell too much into.

Malfoy seem to hear the difference in her voice this time. “Let me explain…” he started. “This was all payback…”

“From what?!” Ginny screamed heatedly.

“From your stupid pumpkin juice action,” he answered quickly.

“OH please! You so deserved that,” Ginny answered not backing down.

“I don’t particularly agree with you, that is why I was going to humiliate you in front of all the school like you did to me,” he started and had to put up his hand to stop Ginny from interrupting. “I had it all planned out, I made Goyle follow you in the costume shop to see what you were going as, so that I could easily find you, then all I had to do was make you believe that it was Potter who was asking you to go with him. After convincing you I was going to spend the night with you until midnight came, and when our charm disguises disappeared I was going to huff, puff and insult you none stop as to why you had lied and made me believe you were someone else, when I was actually going out with a pathetic, poor, insignifi…” Draco stopped his thread of conversation after seeing Ginny’s seething posture. “The point is that I was going to insult and ridicule you in front of all our classmates.”

Ginny was seeing red; she had never been so angry, and resentful against a person like this before. Yet there was something she couldn’t understand, what had happened in the end? Why hadn’t he insulted her? Better yet why had he kissed her? Was that also a part of the revenge?

“Yet when the moment was arriving, I just…I couldn’t. Like I was trying to say, something happened tonight. When we were talking, well you aren’t as boring as I…” Draco stopped again, wincing at his words, why couldn’t he say what he wanted to say. “What I mean is…”

Ginny closed her eyes, trying to contain her fury. Or to at least harvest it. “Oh, I know what happened. You decided you could hurt me even more; than far from insulting me publicly, there was something even more disgusting and ghastly that you could do to get even with me,” Ginny exclaimed with an evident strain in her voice and a visible effort to not cry. She walked directly to him, and slapped him square in the jaw. “Well, congratulations Malfoy! Now we are even,” she said as she reluctantly shed a tear. Without another word, she turned and run as fast as she could from him.

“Wait! Gi…Weas…” Draco, without being able to finish a single name. “Wait!”

“Get bent Malfoy!” Ginny screamed as she walked away.

Anger was now boiling inside him. Stupid girl!!!! She hadn’t let him explain. Stupid! Stupid! “Fine!!! Stupid She-Weasel,” he screamed with hurt pride. Who cares about you anyway? He thought sadly to himself and restrained from answering.

***

Harry and Hermione were still conversing when they arrived to the common room. It was completely deserted and only the feeble sparks from the fireplace lighted the circular room. At the end this had been a great day for both Harry and Hermione, and they both achieved their own vows of making the other enjoy the evening. Harry and Hermione walked up the stairs carefully, still talking animatedly. It wasn’t until the stair divided into the ones going up to the girls’ dorm room from the one heading to the boys that Harry and Hermione both realize that the evening had indeed come to an end. Hermione had taken her shoes off while walking to the common room, and had to go up one step to achieve a more dignified height. When did he grow so tall? her mind was asking as she stared at the top of his head. A loud clearing of his throat brought her gaze back to miss his. He had a tiny impish smile, and she couldn’t stop from smiling back.

“Well, I guess the night is officially finished…” Harry started.

“Harry, before you say anything, I just…well I just…” Hermione was failing to string two words together, and if you know Hermione as well as Harry does, you know that is a big thing. “Well I just wanted to thank you…” Hermione breathed. Harry opened his mouth to refute, but she intervened. “Look, I know that dressing up in a silly costumes and ballroom dancing in a big room is not exactly in your list of things to do, but thank you for coming with me, and I really hope that you enjoyed yourself.”

Harry couldn’t help chuckle at Hermione’s nervous attitude, did she actually think that he hadn’t had fun with her tonight. Harry had to hold both her hands in his just for her to understand his feelings. “Hermione, today was a great night, I had so much fun with you, even dancing was fun!” he smiled as he heard Hermione chuckled. “I am even happier that you had fun too.”

Hermione smiled back at Harry. It is funny how a smile could just light up a person’s entire face, like it did for Hermione. Her lips would curl gracefully against her teeth, it was just magical. Harry’s eyes strayed from admiring her smile and traveled all around her face, her cheeks, her nose, admiring the strands of hair that fell against her face. Hermione felt the strength of Harry’s gaze all around her face, she silently wondered if he could notice the difference in the tone of her skin as she was blushing so furiously. His strong wandering eyes, combined with the softness of their intertwined hands were accelerating her heart beat, and immediately she felt an emergency signal go off inside her; danger was near. She reluctantly dropped her hands and cleared her throat. “Well, goodnight.”

Harry heard Hermione’s mustered farewell, he could barely wrestle enough voice to answer back. He was a little busy wondering the strange but acute twitch in his heart. He put his hand over his chest as if to physically feel for a difference in his heartbeat. Yet what he felt was a little soft bump protruding from his jacket. Confused he touched around until he searched the inside pocket. Ohhh! Rule #2. Harry turned rapidly towards Hermione; she had already advanced a few steps. “Hermione wait! I forgot something.”

Hermione turned around and started descending with a confused look carved in her features. “What is it?”

Rule #2, the one rule that Harry had completely forgotten about at the beginning of the evening had resurfaced with this new founding, Try to give a nice present to her (“You want me to get her a gift?” Harry had asked confused. “I am not saying to buy her a diamond necklace or an encyclopedia in Hermione’s case…” Sirius was getting an exasperated tone so Lupin surfaced, “It’s just something small yet significant, just something to ‘let her know’ that you were thinking about her before the evening starts.” Harry still had a confused look about him, but something in Lupin and Sirius combined stares made him believe their words.)

Harry extended a rose from his inside pocket, and gave it to Hermione. “Is this? Is this your transfigured rose?” she asked excited as she felt the soft red petals and the crisp green stem.

Harry lowered his head a little bit in response. “Yeah, it got a little better than last time…but don’t get all that excited.” Hermione was about to protest when she put the flower to her nose to get a whiff of the scent, and her senses where assaulted with an uncharacteristic smell. “It still smells like parchment…” Harry put in shyly.

Hermione smiled sweetly at Harry’s attitude. “It’s beautiful, it couldn’t be better if it was a real rose, you’ve really improved,” Hermione answered with an ounce of pride in her voice. Hermione couldn’t stop her arms, her legs; she couldn’t stop any part of her body from advancing towards Harry and enveloping him in a hug. Although her brain had relented into to the hug, its plan was one of her usual fast-at-the-neck hug, yet her body disobeyed her anew, as her arms staid encircling his neck and her legs stuck to their ground.

Instead of just standing there, Harry’s hands traveled to her marked waist, yet they didn’t stay there, they slowly traveled to her back until the space between them had closed up considerably. His face was right at the side of her head, having direct contact with her hair, getting a more direct whiff of her shampoo that he had ever before, felt the softness of her locks.

Hermione couldn’t describe feelings anymore; she just knew that being in such close contact to Harry did something inexplicable to her entire body, even her toes tingled. Yet this was a very new feeling, a cold sensation traveled all through her body, and when it reached her feet, in came traveled back to her head warming her up. She was sure that Harry felt the same thing for he shivered at the exact time that she did.

“What was that?” Harry asked himself out loud as he separated his face from her cheek.

Hermione felt his breath right at her cheek, and swiveled her head to meet his eyes. “Did you feel it too?” she asked.

Harry was about to separate himself when he turned to Hermione when she talked, and finally was meet with her usual and stunning dark chocolate eyes, he was yearning to look at her like this all night, the way she always looked, he just stood there looking deep into her eyes. In an instant they felt how the mood shifted. “You are so beautiful,” he breathed so softly and low as if he was just saying it to himself.

Hermione knew the moment that Harry had turned towards her and that she was met with the intensity of the emerald color of his eyes that the glamour and disguises had faded. So that it is why she was left dumbfounded when Harry had spoken those words to her again. The first time she had felt flattered, but she was after all in disguise, so she didn’t take the complement to heart, seeing as that ‘really’ wasn’t her. However, now, he had spoken directly at her, at the usual Hermione, the natural looking, the one he had always seen before, and the one that was nested in his arms and felt that there couldn’t be a better place.

Harry moved his arm to touch Hermione’s face, while enclosing her closer to him with the remaining arm around her waist. He touched her face, running his fingers softly along her cheeks, her jaw. Hermione’s arms where at his chest, feeling how it moved as he breathed. Her hand traveled to his neck, and she played with the bowtie that he had undone before. Her fingers grazed his neck up to his jaw. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, while he brought his thumb to her lips, caressing them softly, amazed at how soft they actually were. He didn’t realize that he was slowly pulling her towards him; she didn’t feel that she was pulling Harry towards her by his jacket. He only felt her lips, her fingers, only saw her eyes. Her lips were actually trembling with anticipation of being touched another way by him, by then her eyes were closed, and she felt that her brain had gone into a sublime sleep. Her face was now inches away from him; he moved his thumb out of the way, as his tongue slightly moistened his lips. He felt like his body was moving itself by instinct, like the first time he had mounted a broom. And with the same feeling of lightness enveloping his body, he closed his eyes as he closed the gap between them. It was such a short distance to pass, less than millimeters. He could feel her cheeks getting hot, she could feel his hot breath. Then their noses lightly bumped…and that was when their eyes flew open. It was like a hippogriff falling on their heads. The realization of what they were about to do, about what they wanted to do, made the back of their heads ache. They were suddenly very aware of the proximity of their bodies. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before they hurriedly separated. Hermione couldn’t even see straight, her head felt hot as she passed her hand through her hair. What was she about to do?

Harry couldn’t even move, he felt stupid just standing there looking at his shoes. Yet he didn’t know what to do, what to say. His stomach was rumbling as if he had eaten a dozen of cockroach clusters. He chanced a quick glimpse at Hermione and saw the same dumbstruck look that he guessed he was wearing also. And that made him feel even worse. What had he done? He tried clearing his throat to see if words would magically spout out and explain everything and fix the situation, when in reality he didn’t even have words.

Hermione got scared, of this whirlwind that was her mind, and it got even worse when she heard Harry clear his throat. She wasn’t ready; she didn’t want to talk right now, not when she didn’t know what was going on in her head. So before Harry couldn’t even start talking she hurried and excused herself. “Well, er, goodnight Harry.”

Harry lifted his gaze as he heard her words, by that time she was already on the third step. He didn’t know what to expect by the sudden situation they found themselves in, but seeing her almost run upstairs wasn’t what he wanted. “Goodnight,” he sighed heavily as he started to make his way to his room.

In a very different fifth year. Ron and Hermione start a new relationship. Everything is perfect for the Trio until Harry realizes he has "particular" feelings about the new couple. Then something happens to Ron that thrust Harry and Hermione together; where NEW feelings arise. CHAPTER TWELVE: The Masquerade Ball finally arrives! What will Harry and Hermione do? And how can Ginny be going out with Harry too? COMPLETELY H/HR