Abundant Skies

Abundant Skies

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thanks to my friends, and Mrs. Delong for helping me decide the fic's title.. This is my first Hermione/Harry fic I've posted up, so sorry if it isn't that good. I do hope you enjoy it, though.

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Chapter One: The Green Eyed Boy

Hermione sighed, as she finished off her transfiguration essay. She quickly put away her quill and held her aching and sore hand, her wrist throbbing. She smiled, exhausted but satisfied. Harry looked up, as he dipped his quill for more ink. He smiled at her.

“Finished already?” He chuckled, lightly. Hermione beamed at him, and he could feel his heart stop for a second.

“All in due time, Harry,” she smiled, cradling her wrist, “all in due time.” He watched her as she gathered up all her parchments and textbooks, but she looked up and froze when she saw his eyes were still on her. She laughed, put it all down in one neat pile, and looked over at him.

“You need any help?” She asked him. He smiled, as he shook his head. He started writing again on his almost filled piece of parchment.

“I've had enough help, Hermione,” he said. “Besides, you look exhausted. It's quite late, you should head up to bed.” Hermione smiled at him, grateful, but she looked over at the fire, feeling the tiredness and weariness of her mind and body. But she refused to go up to her dorm for some sleep. Not yet. The fire flickered, and the playful flames danced, and chasing the shadows. The fire was strong and thriving, the room warm and filled with the yellow, dreamlike light. But she smiled faintly, as she remembered the green eyed boy beside her. She looked over at him, concentrating hard on his essay, and writing furiously on his parchment.

She smiled. “ That's alright, Harry. I'll stay with you until you finish.” He looked up at her, and flashed her the smile her heart melted at seeing.

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said to her, before returning to his work.

She could feel a bubbly feeling erupt in her stomach, restless and hyperactive. She couldn't help but feel as if the room had gotten warmer when she was with Harry. Especially when they were alone, without their other Gryffindor friends there to interrupt or distract them. She liked being alone with Harry, or just being with him, period. She felt nervous and awkward, sure, but at the same time, at ease and safe. Every single morning, she remembered, she would look forward to seeing his face, seeing his smile that always seemed to make her heart skip a beat, his deep emerald eyes that always seemed to trapped her in a trance. She smiled at him, although he couldn't see.

She had always admired Harry, for his bravery and kindness.. He had such a good heart, and that was so hard to find in guys, she knew. She leaned back, her back flat on the carpeted floor. She looked up at the ceiling, only hearing the crackles of the fire, and Harry's fast writing. She closed her eyes, a smile on her face.

She didn't know how she had fallen in love with the raven-haired boy. She wouldn't have preferred it, because after all, he was her friend, and there was no way on this earth or in her lifetime he would see her as anything else than a friend. Because that was all she was to Harry. A friend. Or maybe even, if she was lucky, a best friend. But she couldn't ask for more; that just wasn't fair. But somehow, her reasonableness didn't come into play in this situation-her situation- for no matter how much she told herself she was perfectly being happy being his friend, she couldn't help wanting to be more than that.

She didn't know how her admiralty grew into such a thing as this, or when. All she remembered was being so eager to write letters to him during the summer, and even more eager when he wrote back to her. She remembered reading his letters so fast, her eyes traveling from line to line, then going back over it about, oh, five more times, looking for hints, and such. But of course, she would only be met with disappointment, as she would tuck the letter into a special box she had for his letters. She remembered staying up at night, her thoughts so scattered and restless, thinking about Harry. She would see the moonlight spilled across her carpeted floor, for it had managed to slip through her curtains. And she would get up, and pull the heavy curtains back, only to sit by the window and watch the full, milky glowing moon. It shone so brightly, it seemed so heavenly.

She remembered sitting by her window, wondering if Harry was watching the moon also. And she would feel a slight weight on her heart, as she thought about how ridiculous that was. His bloody aunt and uncle kept him in a cupboard, and she doubted very much that he had a window, much less anything else that would allow him see the moon, or the night sky from his prison cell. It always saddened her, thinking about Harry.. Staying at his horrid relative's house, trapped and treated terribly like a prisoner. It wasn't pity, no. She really wanted Harry to be happy; she really wanted to see his smile more often, his green eyes sparkle brighter. She could feel a dark cloud hover above her, as she thought about the only time she had seen him truly happy; with Sirius.. But fate, so cruel and mean to him, just had to take him away too, just like Harry's parents. But there was also.. Cho Chang. Hermione felt as if it was hard to swallow.

Sure, Cho had been nice, and she remembered the look on Harry's face when she had agreed to go out with him.. The way he had that smile stuck on his face, as if it had been plastered on, for the whole day, and even the day after that. She remembered how his laugh had been so full and hearty, and hearing it made it seem as if the heavens outside were singing. And the way his emerald eyes sparkled and glimmered, as he told them his happy news. Only, as bad of a friend as she was, she wasn't happy. Sure, she was happy for him.. But she remembered her smile being slightly strained, and if it hadn't been for shock, that smile would've been harder to get. But Harry had been so happy, with Cho.. That is, until they had agreed things wouldn't work out, about three months later.. But he had been okay about that too, as he just smiled slightly, explaining to both her and Ron that they were just too different.

Hermione remembered thinking that she could never have made Harry as happy as Cho had made him, even if it had lasted just three months. She could've never made him smile like that, make him so blissfully happy that even Snape couldn't manage to dampen his day. She could never do that to Harry. And just thinking that thought alone, she remembered, sitting out by her window, almost drove her to tears.

It had started two years ago, during their third year.. She still remembered that shifting, changing feeling inside her, when Harry smiled at her. And things obviously went downhill from there. First she thought it was just.. a phase, maybe. But she could feel it growing bigger and bigger, every time she was with him. She knew she had fallen in love with her best friend, Harry Potter. And she remembered thinking, `out of all the people, why him?'

Because of course, as her love grew deeper and bigger, her situation presented many problems. First of all, he was her friend. Making an attempt of any relationship besides the one they had now, would obviously wound or damage their friendship, most likely. Second, she was his friend, and that was all he could picture her of being. She didn't have to be smart to see that he had no feelings for her but the mutual feelings friends should have, towards one another. Third, she was in such a complicated and hard competition. There was just no way she could compete with all the other girls who were `attracted' to him. God knows she was about the least attractive of all of them. What with her so common and plain brown hair, and brown eyes. True, she had developed over the summer, and her hair was no longer bushy, and had grown into long waves. She had grown taller, of course, but she judged herself as to be plain looking; not attractive in any way. She didn't have blonde shimmering hair that seemed to be as if God himself had spun and weaved it himself. She didn't have the sexy, curvy body that most of the girls her year had. She was just.. Plain.

Sure, it was true, people could like people for their personality, and not much for their appearance, but when it came to Harry.. Well, Cho had been so pretty, with her silky jet-black hair, and lengthy, slender legs. Surely she couldn't compete with that. She thought falling for Harry had been the worst thing that had ever happened to her.. The most unexpected thing to ever happen to her.

And now.. She was so sure she loved him, loved him so much it pained her to see him unhappy. Loved him so much she would give her own life, for him. But apparently.. It just wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to get him to notice her, in that way. In the way she wanted to be noticed. It wasn't fair. But then, of course, nothing was fair.

“Hermione? Hermione?” Someone was shaking her awake. Her eyes fluttered open, as her vision constructed itself. There she was looking up into the deepest emerald pools she had ever seen, and looking into them made a tingling shiver trace up her spine.

Harry smiled down on her, his hands on her shoulders. Hermione felt as if his hands were burning right through the thin fabric of her blouse, his fingers searing her flesh. She smiled at him, slightly embarrassed.

“You dozed off,” he grinned at her. She looked down, a blush creeping through her cheeks. Harry let go off her, the warmth he once held in his hands now disappearing, the cold air invading his veins. He watched her, as she looked down on the ground. He was sorry to let go; she brought a certain glowing warmth inside of him that he could feel spread throughout him, tapping into his bloodstream, rushing through his veins. And his hands holding her.. It sent shivers buzzing through him. She had been so warm, so soft.. Harry smiled at her.

“I'm finished,” he said to her, softly. She looked up and met his eyes, trapping her in his gaze.

“That's great, Harry,” she smiled. And Harry felt a breath cease in his throat, as she smiled at him. Her hair seemed lighter, trapping the light in. She seemed to have a glowing yellow haze around her, making her seem like a goddess. Her brown eyes sparkled, and she looked radiant. Harry was speechless as he marveled at her..

“Harry?” she asked. “Are you alright?” Harry was snapped out of his trance as she looked at him with concern flickering in her eyes. He sighed, as he turned away.

He gathered up all his parchments and textbooks, and as he got them all into one pile, he ran a hand through his hair and smiled at her.

“Yeah, I'm fine, “ he said to her. Hermione watched him, packing up his quill and things. She sighed, sorry to go to bed, only to think and dream about the green eyed boy. It saddened her, knowing she wouldn't have a chance with him in her lifetime. But it also comforted her, seeing his deep emerald eyes in her dreams. Even if it just reminded her that she could never be the kind of girl Harry could ever love, or let alone, like.

She gave him one last look, and she went over to the table and started packing her things up.

When Harry was done, he waited and watched her for a bit. He couldn't help but think how.. Graceful she was. He watched her as she grasped her textbooks, her fingers curling at the edges. Harry couldn't help but think she had one of the nicest hands he had ever seen. Finally, when she was done, she stood up.

He smiled at her. “Goodnight, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled back at him, her eyes tracing his features, the way the shadows played across his face. “Goodnight, Harry,” she said quietly, and she walked past him, up to the girl's dormitories.

Harry sighed, watching her until she closed the door, and headed into his own dormitories.

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Harry stayed awake that night, not being able to sleep for the second week now. For always, a certain Gryffindor girl plagued his mind. He sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

He remembered her brown, sparkling eyes. Her silky wavy brown hair, that even he longed to run his hands through. The way her mouth curved into such a beautiful smile.. It nearly took his breath away. He remembered just about an hour ago, when they were in the common room, nothing but the firelight to write by. He remembered the way her brown eyes seemed darker than usual, looking as if she were deep in thought, or in a dreamlike trance. And the way the light had chased the playful shadows across her face, making her seem more mysterious than usual. Harry couldn't concentrate, with the butterflies so hyperactive in his stomach, knowing the object of his affection was right in front of him. She distracted him, yes. But he liked having her around; all he wanted to do was be around her. Even if those constant flips his heart kept doing bothered him.

He didn't know when this had started, or how. All he remembered was on the last day of last year, she had kissed him again on the cheek, but this time, he felt an odd warm feeling fill him, tingling and buzzing through him, from the tips of his hair to his toes. And he came to the Dursley's still thinking about her, and the way her lips had felt so soft against his skin.

Over the summer, he remembered the picture she had sent him, of her on vacation in the States. He remembered the picture so well; she had been wearing a pale yellow sundress, standing in front of the beach. Her wavy hair was being blown gently by the wind, her pink lips curved into such a beautiful smile. He had stayed up every night, staring at it with the only light was from the moonbeams spilling from the small caged window in his cupboard. He had memorized it, traced her outline in the photo with his finger dozens of times, wishing he was already at Hogwarts so he could be with her again. He had wanted to come back so badly, just to see her again.

Harry grinned, remembering all those feeling rush back to him; excitement when he had received her letters, and eager as he would send his letter back to her, hoping she would respond fast.

His grin became wider, as he shut his eyes, slowly.

That was the summer Harry Potter had fallen in love with Hermione Granger.

Abundant Skies

Chapter Two: Three Weekend Deal

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Hermione met up with Harry and Ron at breakfast, Harry flashed her a smile as she sat down. She smiled back at him, her stomach doing silly little cartwheels. She grabbed an apple, and poured herself some pumpkin juice.

“Plans for today, Hermione?” Ron asked, taking a bite of his waffle. He looked over at her, when she didn't respond.

“Don't tell me you're going to go to the library again,” he said, his mouth full. Hermione took a bite of her apple, crunching loudly. She looked at him, as she swallowed down the juicy remains.

“I might stop by,” she said.

“Honestly Hermione! I could swear you would just bloody die if you didn't go to the library every single day,” Ron said. Hermione scowled at him, apple in her hand.

“ Just because I like to spend time studying and reading, doesn't mean-“

“It's not healthy, Hermione!” He said to her. “You're addicted to reading and that's not a good sign!”

“ I am not addicted!” She said.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered. He turned to Harry. “Tell me, Harry, how many times has she bailed out on us to go to the library?”

Harry looked at Hermione, not being able to hide his grin. He never took his eyes off her, as he replied to Ron.

“After twenty, I lost count.”

Hermione gaped at Harry. “Harry! You know that's not true!”

“Don't even, Hermione,” Ron said to her. She glared at Ron, her eyes narrowing into slits, and Harry couldn't help but think that was quite cute.

Hermione set her jaw. “I AM NOT ADDICTED.”

“Would you like to prove it?” Ron sneered at her.

“How?”

“You're to join me and Harry while we go out and fly, outside. For the this weekend and next three weekends.”

“What?” She said. “Three weekends?! I've got stuff to do!”

“Like what? You've already done all your homework for the next month!”

Hermione grimaced. Harry smiled at her, silently urging her to agree. He really did think she spent too much time in the library.

“Come on, Hermione,” Harry said to her. “You need a break. I'll teach you how to fly?” He asked. “For free?”

Now Hermione knew she could not say no to Harry. It wasn't fair. He had an advantage and he was using it against her.

She couldn't help but break into a grin. She laughed lightly, and a triumphant smile spread across Harry's face.

“I'm fine safe on the ground, and not dangling in midair on a broom stick, thank you,” she said to him.

Harry chuckled lightly, and she could feel her heart stop, his laughter ringing in her ears. She watched him, his lips curved into a big smile, his emerald eyes sparkling. She smiled to herself, thinking that it was no wonder she had fallen for him. If only he would fall for her too.

She took another bite of her apple, looking down at the table. Somehow, thinking about him seemed to sadden her, because she was just reminded that one day he was going to meet another girl, who looked like a model compared to her, and she would be sad and alone. Again. She wanted Harry to be happy, of course, but if only he could be happy with her.

She had gotten her fair share of dates, of course. Well, actually, she had her fair share of boys asking her out. She never went out with them; she had wanted to, of course, but she didn't want to give them false hope when she knew she loved Harry. But she did think about saying yes, once. It was to a Ravenclaw who was really quite handsome, polite and smart. She had thought of saying yes, and perhaps having such a wonderful time at their date that she would fall madly in love with him and forget about Harry. But of course, that was just wishful thinking. And well.. Viktor Krum was another story that she preferred to not think about.

And she guessed she was pretty much screwed about dating. She had quite a feeling that it was going to be a while before she went out with a boy. Especially when all her heart longed for was the raven-haired, green-eyed boy sitting one person from her.

She sighed and finally took one last bite of her apple, before discarding it to her empty plate. She never really had an appetite when it came to breakfast; her mind was always scrawling with too many thoughts at one time. And the fact that they were all about Harry didn't help either.

She crossed her arms on her chest and sat back, staring into space. She couldn't hear the people around her talking, laughing around her.. She was pretty much gone, really.

Harry looked over at Hermione, and felt his stomach fill with a glowing, warm light that spread through him. He found it hard to swallow, and put down his spoon. He watched her, just staring into oblivion, silent and serene. She looked so calm, graceful.. Her eyes seemed dark, but were glimmering like the stars in a dark midnight sky. She didn't move, didn't blink, she seemed frozen, like a mannequin. But he felt a certain aura from her.. A warm, deep, feeling that seemed to cover him every time he thought about her.. Saw her. He felt himself fall into a trance, just looking at her. He couldn't believe how beautiful she was.

Ron turned to Harry, and halted when he saw where he was staring. He looked beside him, where his gaze was directed, and felt a grin spread across his face.

“Mate,” Ron said to Harry, in a low voice so that Hermione couldn't hear. Harry snapped out of his trance, and turned to Ron.

“You don't want to make it seem so obvious,” he said, grinning widely.

Harry was confused. “What?”

Ron's eyes darted to Hermione, who was still oblivious of everything happening around her. “You know, Hermione..”

Harry turned bright red. “Oh.. No.. I'm not.. No.. I don't..” He said, flustered, and embarrassed to be caught. It was a good thing Hermione wasn't listening. Ron laughed, cheekily.

“Don't worry. I won't say a word.”

“No, I don't like her. In that way,” Harry said to him, hushed and quickly. “She's my friend, and I care about her, and.. I don't.. I don't feel that way about her.” Ron still had that grin on his face, and Harry figured he wasn't going to listen to him anyway.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that, Harry,” Ron chuckled. He turned to him. “You know, you don't have to lie to me, I know she's changed.. I mean.. Look at her-“

“I get it,” Harry snapped. “But there's nothing happening.”

“I see you staring. Constantly. If you're going to do that, then you should be a bit more sly. Hermione's a smart girl, you know. She's sure to find out if your eyes are glued on her all the time.. The drooling doesn't throw her off either.”

“Shut up,” Harry said. Ron just laughed again. Harry hated to get caught by his best friend.. But he'd rather have himself tell him, not to have him find out, or catch him. He knew he would be the object of his ridicule whenever the subject was brought up. Harry turned to Hermione, and stood up. He looked at Ron.

“I think we should head out already,” he said, his eyes darting over to Hermione. She was still staring into space. Ron nodded, and stood up also.

“I'll go get the brooms, I'll meet you two there.” Ron winked at Harry before passing him, and Harry rolled his eyes. Harry put his hand on Hermione's shoulder, and she jumped, her trance broken.

“Sorry,” Harry said, smiling.

“It's alright,” she said. “Is it time to go already?”

Harry nodded. Hermione looked behind Harry, his fingers burning pleasantly on her shoulder, her warmth seeping into his skin..

“Where's Ron?” She asked.

“He went off to get the brooms,” Harry said, lifting his hand off her shoulder, but missed the warmth he had just held in his hand. His hand felt cold, her warmth disappearing quickly. Hermione stood up, brushed off her jeans, and followed Harry out.

The walked to the quidditch field seemed rather long, and quiet, actually, as she heard their rhythmic footsteps echo off the walls, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Harry looked at her, before speaking.

“Hermione.. Is everything aright?” Hermione looked at him, confused.

“What do you mean, Harry?” She asked, her voice quiet. Harry loved the way her voice filled his ears, even if she spoke so softly, especially to him. He didn't know what it was; he just loved the way her voice sounded so gentle, like the wind whispering its secrets into your ear..

“It's just that.. Well, you seem a bit off lately. I see you staring.. Constantly.” Hermione felt a blush spread across her face, and smile faintly.

“Oh. That,” she said. “I just.. Get lost in my own thoughts sometimes, you know? Too lost.” A silence greeted them, but Harry spoke again. Her heart pounded hard at the sound of his voice; it was low and serious, quiet..

“What do you think about?” He asked her, silently hoping he would be one of the things that seemed to occupy her mind frequently. Hermione looked at him, quickly, before answering.

“Oh, just schoolwork, and my parents.. Usually that.” Harry felt a slight disappointment, but set his face so he couldn't show it. He was unusually good at that.

“Oh,” he said. Hermione looked at him, and his expression seemed serious, but blank. She couldn't read him. She sighed; she didn't appreciate lying to him, she didn't. But what was she supposed to say? `Oh and I've been thinking about you every single minute of everyday and oh by the way I love you Harry'? She couldn't do that. That was humiliation at its worst.

“What about you Harry?” She asked. “Deep in thought about anything lately?”

Harry smiled faintly, trying to imagine her face if he were to say, `you.' Because of course, that was the truth. It had been the truth since last summer.

“Not really,” he said, as they turned. They headed out the doors, both silent, and headed for the quidditch field. Hermione kept sneaking glances at him, and marveled at how handsome he was.

The sunbeams embedded twinkles in his deep emerald eyes, his hair still tousled and messy, but he seemed so dreamlike. She quickly turned away, when he turned to her and caught her staring. She flushed a deep red, as Ron came into view. Harry smiled faintly.

Finally they met up with him, and he grinned at Harry madly.

“How was it?”

“How was what?” Hermione asked. Ron cast a look at Harry, then shrugged. He turned to her.

“Are you planning to take Harry up on those flying lessons?” He asked her. She looked around, her brown eyes shining.

“Not today,” she said, and headed out towards the bleachers. Harry watched her retreating back. She walked with such grace, and her shiny, wavy long hair ran past her shoulders, down her back..

Ron turned to him. “Disappointed?”

“What?” Harry said, turning his gaze towards his red haired friend.

“I know you wanted to have her up on that broom with you,” Ron sniggered.

“Shut up,” Harry said to him. “We're just friends.”

“Oh quit lying, Harry,” Ron said. “It's useless. I could read you like a book.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Amazing. Assuming you've actually read a book.”

Ron glared at him, and handed Harry his broom. Harry stared up into the sky, squinting. The sky was blue and clear.. He was sure they were going to be here a while. He looked back at Ron, who was grinning.

“Time to show off your skills, lover boy,” he said, getting in position on his broom.

“Just shut up and let's go,” Harry said, and took off.

Hermione watched the two boys, flying fast and sometimes gracefully in the blue sky. Mostly she had her eye on Harry, but who could tell? She grinned to herself, as she knew she would definitely take his offer to teach her to fly, even if she was scared to death by heights.

If she would be close to him, then she didn't mind.

Abundant Skies

Chapter Three: Common Room Studies

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Well, just to let you guys know, my other fic, `wonderwall,' is not finished yet.. Not yet. One more chapter, maybe two. I just.. I've been trying to gather up some more ideas, and stuff.. Might be a while, but I'm hoping that it'll be good. But I still will be updating this fic.

So, I have NOT abandoned wonderwall, it is just not finished. I REPEAT, I HAVE NOT ABANDONED `WONDERWALL.' Thanks, and thanks for all your wonderful reviews.

And, no, I am sorry, Draco will not be playing a role in this fic.. sorry. But, I will be writing another fic, the DM/HG/HP love triangle, shortly after Wonderwall.

Thanks.

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The trio sat in the common room, Harry and Ron doing their Transfiguration homework, while Hermione was reading on the couch, totally oblivious to Harry and Ron's hushed conversation.

“When are you going to tell her?” Ron whispered, looking at Hermione. He was amazed at how she didn't see how Harry felt towards her. Ron had talked about it to Neville, to Dean and Seamus, to his brothers who he had owled..

`Harry Potter and Hermione Granger? Now I can't say that was quite unexpected,” the letter had said, from Fred and George. `Besides, she's quiet grown, with the pictures she sent you during the summer.. Not just the little Gryffindor smarty pants, anymore. We're not surprised Harry would fall for her.'

Seamus and Dean had agreed, and had said they had seen him, too. Neville just shrugged and said, “Harry and Hermione? Well.. That's quite alright I guess. They'd make a good couple.”

Harry concentrated on his assignment, scanning the text in the textbook.

“Tell her what?” He said, distracted. He wrote down notes in the book, to remind him. Writing in the books weren't allowed of course, but with a simple ink-erasing spell, they surely wouldn't notice.

“You know, tell her you're taken with her.” Harry's eyes halted when he heard `taken with her.' He put down his book, and glared at Ron.

“You're still going on about that?” He said, irritated.

“When are you going to tell her?”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there's nothing to tell.” Ron snorted. Harry scowled at his friend.

“You've got to fast, Harry. What if someone else courts her? Like, Neville.. Or.. Or ugh what if Malfoy does?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Ron,” Harry said. But he was already worried about that same thing, although he would never admit it to his face.

“No, Harry, mate, listen to me. I know lots of guys who are interested in her. I can only hold them off her for so long.”

“Shut up, please,” Harry sighed.

“Go after her.. Go, go.” Ron`s grin got wider. He leaned in closer to Harry, so that Hermione couldn't hear.

“Or, um, I could tell her.”

“Tell her what!?” Harry said, his whisper harsh and quick. “There's nothing to tell her!”

“Oh stop it, Harry! Seamus and Dean have noticed, and Neville has, and you know how slow Neville is-“

“You've told them about this?!”

“They've all noticed! She's bound to find out, and you should tell her before she does!”

“I can't believe you told them about this!”

“It's not confidential, since you're being such a chicken about it.” Harry glared at him, and Ron only smiled. Ron's eyes darted over to Hermione, who was deep into her book, and stood up. Harry watched him, horrified at not knowing what he was going to do.

“Well, I'm going to head up to bed, I'm quite spent,” Ron said, looking at Harry, grinning. Hermione put down her book, and looked at her red haired friend.

“Are you finished?” She asked him.

“No,” he said, quickly. “But rest assured, I'll get it done tomorrow.” Harry snorted. Hermione sighed, putting her book down on her lap.

“Well.. Alright..”

“Harry's not done,” Ron said, gathering up his stuff. Harry glowered at him. Ron turned to Hermione.

“Maybe he needs some help, eh?” He said to her, before walking past, and up to the stairs.

“Night,” he called out to them, before they both heard the door close. Harry sighed, shaking his head. Hermione raised an eyebrow at her raven-haired friend, and then turned her gaze to the closed door of the boy's dormitories. She looked at Harry again, and felt that weird tingling, fluttery feeling in her stomach again. It was as if someone had released millions of rapid winged insects that bounced off her insides. She watched him, as he concentrated on his work.. How determined he seemed to be, his eyes scanning the book rapidly, his fast scribbles on the parchment. His black hair fell across his forehead, still tousled and as untamed as before. She couldn't see his scar, for his bangs covered it almost completely, but she didn't think it made him more than what he was, or less. Maybe some girls liked scars, but she didn't care. It wasn't such a big deal to her. Harry was just Harry. And scar or not, she was sure to still love him. He had that warm, glowing personality, a good heart, a good sense of humor, and.. He always made her weak in the knees, not to mention her heart pound harder and faster. And well, she wasn't an expert on romance, or relationships, but she knew that what he made her feel was always a good thing, well, if they were to ever move on than being just friends. But that was just wishful thinking.

She sighed, taking one last look at him, before returning to her book.

Harry looked over at Hermione, and felt his heart beat fast, being alone with her in the room again… His wrist was aching, his fingers slippery and sweaty. His focus and concentration was gone, now that Ron had intentionally left them alone together. Harry nervously looked down at his assignment, his writing scribbled and almost impossible to read, towards the end, for his wrist had been in awful pain. Surely enough the Professor could still read it.. Harry sighed, putting down his parchment. He picked up his quill again, and dipped it in ink. He tried his best to finish it, but of course it was harder and slower than before. His mind kept skittering back to the brown haired girl reading on the sofa, the object of his affection.

Hermione looked back at Harry, and she was puzzle at what she saw. His eyes were hard, almost squinted as if he couldn't see the words right. His fingers gripped the book tightly, and as he put it down, his hand was shaking, but even from afar she could see how hard he was writing. He seemed to be having.. A hard time concentrating. He hadn't been like this before. She wondered if it was because Ron was gone.. Maybe he didn't want to be alone with her. Maybe he just didn't feel comfortable. She felt her heart become heavier, but she looked over at him, and decided it was best if she just left. She really didn't want to give him a hard time, and if being alone with her bothered him, then.. She closed her book, and gathered her things.

Harry looked over at Hermione, when he heard rustling and noticed her movement. Was she leaving? He felt a heavy load place upon his heart.. She couldn't be leaving.

“Hermione?” He said, silently pleading for her to stay. Even if she distracted him, or made him nervous or made those annoying butterflies erupt in his stomach, he really didn't want her to leave. Being with her made him feel.. Well, at ease and insanely nervous at the same time. But it wasn't all that better if she wasn't here either; all he could think about was her, wishing that she was still here with him.

He saw Hermione sigh, the light and shadows playing across her back. She turned to him, and smiled faintly.

“It's quite late,” she said, her voice quiet. “I thought I'd head up, you know, get some sleep.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding slightly disappointed. “Oh alright then,” he said, turning back to his work. She smiled slightly at him, a sad sort of smile, and gathered all her books into her hands.

“Good night, Harry,” she said to him, and he looked up and smiled.

“Good night, Hermione.” She nodded, and walked past him to the stairs. She stopped when she heard Harry's voice, halfway up.

“You don't have to go, you know,” he said. She smiled, happy that he would say such a thing; maybe he did want her to stay.

“I'm quite nearly done,” she heard him say.

“Thanks, Harry,” she said, his back still turned to her. But he was still, quill in his hand but not writing. “But it really is late.”

He nodded, sighed, and got back to work. But he listened attentively, as Hermione took one last look at him, and started up the stairs. She closed the door behind her, silently.

Harry looked in the fireplace, the flames seemed to be licking the top, and bouncing off the sides. He smiled, as he started reading the textbook again.

It just amazed him what Hermione could do to him, did to him.

Abundant Skies

Chapter five: Arm's Length

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

thanks for all the reviews!!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione headed down to breakfast, nervous about her little `plan.' She didn't know if it would succeed, but she certainly hoped so. She smiled when she saw Harry, of course, and he smiled back at her, making her heart stop.

She sat by Ron, although Harry had an empty seat next to him. She was worried they might think something was wrong, since she had always sat by Harry.. And she saw Ron give her a confused look, while Harry was just eating, talking to Dean and Seamus about something. Hermione ignored him, and just ate her usual, healthy breakfast.

Harry noticed Hermione hadn't sat down next to him.. He was saddened, and surprised, since she had always used to sit next to him.. He wanted her to come back and sit next to him, he wanted to watch her out of the corner of his eye, watch her eat her apple and orange silently. He suddenly was aware of how cold he was, and shivered slightly. He missed her presence next to him, and it hadn't even been twenty minutes since she had come down. Without thinking, he looked over at her, and she looked up, almost as if she sensed his gaze immediately. They were trapped in each other's gaze once again.

Harry could feel his heart his heart beating loudly, although he wasn't even sure if it was still in his chest. He had felt as if it had grown wings and fluttered away, just leaving a relentless beating in him. He felt as if someone had poured down a warm, glowing, filling acid down his throat, warming and melting every single thing inside of him. Her eyes were so deep, so full with warmth, emotion.. Something flickered inside of them, something dark and hidden, but he couldn't read it. He felt as if he could see eternity in her eyes, hopeful, innocent.. He couldn't look away, his heart beating in his ears so loudly, pounding. But his conscience was tugging at him, its voice rising, angry to be ignored so easily.

It screamed at him, telling him to look away. But he couldn't, even as though it had started listing all the possibilities of what could happen if he stayed in her gaze too long. People could find out, spread rumors, get suspicious.. But he didn't care. He couldn't care. Not while her gaze was embracing him, blanketing him in its grace, warming him from his toes to the tips of his hair.

“Harry?” Harry was deaf.

“Harry? Harry?” Harry was sucked out of his trance, as Hermione quickly looked away, flustered.

Harry turned his gaze to Dean, who had been calling him.

“Harry? Are you alright? You.. You seemed as if you were.. Out of it for a second there.”

Harry sighed, trying to shallow his breath, for he had been holding it for all that time. He sneaked a quick glance at Hermione, who was silent, looking away, but he could see the faint blush creeping to her cheeks.

“Sorry Dean,” Harry smiled, faintly.

Hermione tried to steady herself, her heart was beating so hard in her chest, her brain scattered with so many thoughts that she herself could not read. She had fallen into his gaze again, lost in the emerald sea, not wanting to be drifted back to shore. This was just too much. She could not even stand being one person away from him. She finished her one bite of apple left, and took her book bag, placing it on her shoulder.

She stood up, and Ron's, Dean's, Harry's, Seamus's and Lavender's eyes trailed her.

“Where are you going?” Lavender asked. Hermione smiled faintly, adjusting the strap.

“I'm heading up to the dormitories, I forgot to do something.” She turned to Harry and Ron. “I'll meet you guys in class.” And with that, she strode out of the Great hall.

Harry stared after her, confused at why she left. Sure, she had said she had to do something, but he got the feeling that that wasn't it. Ron looked at Harry, seeing the way his eyes had lingered on the Great Hall's doors, obviously thinking about Hermione.

Ron sighed, taking a glance at the doors too, before turning to talk to Lavender; Harry wasn't the only one who had it bad for a certain girl. The love bug had bitten Ron too, but he was sure Harry's was much, much worse than his.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione made sure to stay away from Harry, after the `incident' at breakfast. She always made sure to sit one person away from him, not sitting by him at all if she got lucky. She didn't even talk to him, unless it was necessary. It pained her, not being able to sit next to him, but she promised herself she would do this. She made herself think of when her little infatuation with him would fade away, and they'd all be just friends again. Just feeling what friends should feel for each other; not any less, or any more than that.

She hoped Harry wouldn't notice, as the days went. He seemed still awfully quiet, but had started to talk again, like old times. Although she didn't sit beside him like before, she made sure to listen to every little thing he said; not being able to control what she heard. She hoped it would all end soon, very soon. She didn't think she could keep this up. She still felt the urge to sit beside him, to talk to him, to say something to make him smile or laugh.. If she didn't know any better she would've thought that instead of her little crush fading, it was getting stronger.

Harry had started to notice how far Hermione seemed to be, from him. He didn't know why, or what, but she always seemed so far out of his reach. Every time he would try to talk to her, she would hurry the conversation, and end it abruptly, saying she had to catch up with Lavender or Ginny. She no longer sat beside him during breakfast, or at any of their lessons. He felt like a storm cloud was hovering above him, and every single day, hoping she would at least sit next to him for one second.. She didn't. And he could feel the invisible, icy, raindrops drench him, from head to toe. He wanted to ask her if he had done something to her, to make her avoid him. If he had said something, or just anything. Harry, deciding he had to talk to someone about it, brought it up to Ron, in the hallway, whilst on their way to Care of Magical Creatures. As always for the past week, Hermione had gone ahead.

“Er, Ron?” Harry said.

“Yeah Harry?”

“Have you noticed.. Hermione.. She's been acting.. Peculiar lately..”

Ron looked at Harry, the look in his eyes unreadable. “How could I not notice?”

“It seems like.. She's avoiding me. She won't talk to me, or sit by me, like she used to.”

“You don't know why?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Well.. What do you think it could be?”

“Maybe.. I don't know, mate. She's a tough girl to figure out, at times.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It's just not like her. I'm worried I did something, to hurt her, or something. You know Hermione, she doesn't do stuff without having a good reason.”

“Well, do you think you said or did anything to offend her?”

“I don't know.. I don't think so. You know I wouldn't do anything to her.”

“Maybe.. I think you should talk to her.” Ron said, and Harry nodded, silent. They reached the class, and sat down, waiting for Hagrid.

Hagrid had told them specific instructions about the odd looking creature they would be feeding today. He had told them to pair up, then asking each of them to come up and grab a handful of strange blue vines. Everyone chattered excitedly, friends gathering up with friends. Harry looked around, searching for Hermione. He wanted to be her partner, since he had always paired up with Ron, on most occasions.

“Harry?” Ron asked, trying to see what he was looking at. Harry spotted Hermione, talking to Lavender, smiling. Harry couldn't help but remind himself how much he loved her smile.

“Hold on,” Harry said, standing up.

“Where are you going?”

“I'll be right back,” Harry said, and walked towards Hermione.

Hermione halted her and Lavender's conversation when Harry came over, looking anxious and determined. Hermione felt those butterflies return, buzzing excitedly in her stomach.

“Hermione?” He said.

“Harry,” she said simply.

“I.. Um, I was wondering, if you wanted to be my partner,” he said, looking straight at her. Hermione felt panic spread through her, her eyes darting to behind him, where Lavender was smiling wildly. She didn't know what to do. She had to stay away from him, but here he was, asking her to be his partner. He had never done that before, just pairing up with Ron usually. Of course, millions of times she wished Harry would ask her, and she knew a `yes' would just come out, without her thinking about it. But.. Out of all those times, those chances he could've asked her.. Why now? Why now that she knew she had to say no?

Why bloody now??!!

“I-Uh,” she stammered, avoiding his gaze. She looked towards her desk, her hands very slightly trembling, as she tried to think of how to say no.

“I already told Lavender I would be her partner,” she said, as calmly as she could. Hermione felt her heart fold when she saw the look in Harry's eyes, dark and cloudy, almost as if he was disappointed.

“Oh, alright then,” he said softly, took one last look at her, and went on his way.

Hermione sighed deeply, trying to make the weight shift in her chest. Lavender appeared beside her, as Hagrid motioned them to feed their creatures. Hermione split her handful and gave it to Lavender, avoiding her gaze.

“Hermione.. I wouldn't have minded if you ditched me,” she said, placing a vine in the purple creature's small mouth. Hermione watched it as it chewed, slowly.

“I don't `ditch' people.”

“'Ditching' is what you've been doing to Harry all week,” Lavender said, trying to get Hermione to look up.

“What's going on, Hermione?” Lavender asked. Hermione sighed.

“Nothing.”

“That's bollocks. Can't you see Harry's mad about you?” This caused Hermione to look up, and Lavender's face was serious.

“We're just friends, “ she said.

“Oh, cut it out, Hermione. I've seen you, looking at him.. You're so madly in love with him that you can't stand it.”

“He doesn't feel that way about me, Lavender, and I don't feel that way about him” Hermione said, slightly getting annoyed. Lavender had seen right through her as clearly as Ron had.

“How do you know?” She said. “If you're so blind that you can't even see the way you feel about him, then you're sure as hell not going to see how he feels about you.”

Hermione turned to her, getting angry. “I know how I feel about him, and it's none of your business.”

“Hermione,” Lavender sighed. “We've all noticed how you've been avoiding Harry all week.. Something's wrong. You can tell me.”

“No, I won't tell you, because I already did,” she said, smacking the vines down on the table. “There is NOTHING going on,” she said. Lavender just looked at her, her expression unreadable.

She sighed again. “Fine. Whatever you say,” she said, before turning back to feeding their creature.

Hermione considered telling Lavender, of course. But she couldn't. There was just too much at stake. What if she played matchmaker? Hermione knew she couldn't bear that. Everything would just go wrong. She didn't want to make everything worse; Harry had just probably asked her to be his partner because he felt guilty.

Yeah, he just felt guilty.

Right?

Abundant Skies

Chapter Six: I Know You're Listening

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione felt so guilty about turning Harry down, after all, she did want to be his partner. Really badly. But if only she could tell him why she said no, the truth. She could see in his eyes that he hadn't believed her lame excuse. But she was also slightly irritated at the fact that the only reason he had asked her was because he was guilty about always pairing up with Ron. She didn't need his pity. She had done fine all those times she had worked with Lavender, or even Neville. Harry should've known better, she thought, if he really knew her.

The day went on miserably; Hermione didn't have much to say to anyone, so mostly she kept to herself. The one person she wanted to get so close to so much was the one person she had to stay away from. Life was going just great. At lunch she sat by Ron and Dean. Harry was one person away from her again, and still he managed to plague her thoughts like a virus. She would've sat farther away, maybe next to Ginny and Lavender, but Ron had insisted she sit next to him. And when she looked over to Lavender and Ginny, the seat she had her eye on had already been occupied. So, once again, she knew she was in danger of falling in Harry's gaze. She figured she would just not look up, not towards him, anyway.

She was getting angry at the fact that her little tactic, or strategy was not working at all. She questioned it, at first. How could it not work? What was wrong with it? She had analyzed everything about her situation, every little detail. What could she have possibly missed? She wanted consult someone about it, Lavender, maybe. But she had told her off earlier, saying that it wasn't any of her business. She just didn't know what to do anymore. Her plan had failed. Her feelings for him were just as strong as ever, maybe even stronger. For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger did not know what to do. And it was killing her.

Hermione stabbed at her piece of blueberry pie. She was so frustrated, so stressed about it. She wanted it to go away, she would do anything to make it just disappear. But it was still here; Harry was still always on her mind, every single minute of every day. Harry's smile and twinkling emerald eyes still made her heart stop. His voice still made everything in her melt. WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HARRY POTTER??!! A silly little crush on any other boy would've been better. ANY boy. But in her case, two things were too different. One, despite all her debates with her conscience that it was just a crush, her heart was never in it. She always lost, her heart and conscience proclaiming she loved him ever since she saw him. Hermione hated to agree, but she knew it was the truth, deep down, no matter how much she tried to cover it up, or deny it.

Two, it wasn't just any other boy. It was Harry Potter. Her best friend since first year. The boy who lived. It just wasn't fair. If she went after him, she would be risking everything. But if she didn't, she was miserable and sad. She had herself to blame for her silly little feelings.

Hermione mumbled under her breath, not aware of her little massacre on the poor piece of pie.

“Hermione? Don't you think you're being a little too harsh on the pie?” Hermione looked up, startled by the voice. It was Ron, who was looking a bit unsure, but still had a madman grin on his face.

Hermione looked down on her pie, and blushed furiously. You couldn't even tell it was a piece of pie before, if no one had told you. The blue filling was all over the plate, the crust smashed into crumbs that was beyond any repair. She knew she couldn't even eat it anymore, unless she licked her plate. She put down her fork.

“Oops,” she said. Ron chuckled lightly. Hermione could feel a pair of piercing eyes on her, and resisted the urge to look up. She knew who it was. She was NOT going to look up.

“Hermione.. Are you okay? I mean, this past week you've been.. Is everything okay?” Ron asked. Hermione could feel her insides burning up, feeling feverish. Those emerald eyes were still on her.

“I'm fine,” she said.

“I don't believe you.”

“I'm fine.”

“Oh come on, Hermione. You know I know you better than that. You don't avoid us for no reason.”

“I haven't been avoiding you,” she said, getting slightly irritated.

“That's bollocks. If you haven't been avoiding US, then why have you been avoiding Harry?” Hermione suddenly looked up, her eyes glittering angrily. Why was everyone bugging her about Harry lately? Why? Was she so bloody transparent that they could see right through her?!

She could feel Harry watching her, but she didn't care anymore.

“I have not been avoiding Harry,” she said.

“Oh right. So you just haven't felt like talking to him because you didn't feel like it? Did you just run out of things to talk about? How about in Hagrid's class, when you turned him down because you wanted to be Lavender's partner? That's such a dimwit excuse, Hermione.”

Hermione stood up, fuming. “Don't expect someone, especially me, to say yes to an offer that was just made out of guilt and pity,” she hissed. “And, I am not a dimwit, Ron. Try looking at yourself before saying I'm the one who's stupid,” and she grabbed her book bag and strode out of the hall.

Harry stood up and called after her, but she had already gone. He turned to Ron, equally angry.

“Who told you about that,” he asked, his voice strained and hard.

“Lavender,” Ron answered. “She said she knows there's something up with Hermione.”

“Next time, mind your own business,” Harry snapped. “Don't stick up for me if you're only trying to hurt or get her to tell the truth.” Harry got up from his chair and followed after Hermione, leaving Ron irritated and annoyed.

“I was only trying to bloody help,” he muttered under his breath. “They've both gone mad. They're perfect for each other.”

++++++++++++

Harry ran through the corridors, looking for Hermione. He took the stair steps two at a time, eager to find her. He was confused at what she had said; “Don't expect someone, especially me, to say yes at an offer that was just made out of guilt and pity.” Did she think he only asked her was because he had always paired up with Ron? Harry groaned, as he slowed down, panting.

Maybe that was why she was angry with him. But she had been avoiding him even before that. What else did he do? Harry ran towards the portrait, and said the password, before running in. Harry quickly scanned the common room; she wasn't there. He ran up towards the girl's dormitories, and caught his breath. She had to be in there. He needed to talk to her.

He knocked on the door.

“Hermione?” he said. “ Hermione, please open the door.” He heard rustling inside, and he knew she was in there. There was silence.

“Hermione, please. I know you're in there. I need to talk to you.” Silence. Harry sighed, putting down his hand. He decided to just say it right then and there, because in some strange way, he knew she was listening. Hermione was never the kind of person who plugged her ears with her fingers or put a pillow over her head to try and ignore a person. She had to be listening.

“Hermione.. I'm sorry about what Ron said. I didn't tell him about when I asked you in Hagrid's class, but.. I have noticed that you.. Well, you haven't been.. We haven't been.. Well, like old times. Have we really run out of things to talk about, Hermione? Because I know I haven't. I think you've been avoiding me, always trying to hurry our conversations and sitting anywhere else but beside me. If I've done something to hurt you, please tell me, Hermione.. Because whatever it was, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, and I'll never mean to.” He sighed. “I hope.. Well, I hope you accept my apology, and..” He smiled faintly.

“You were wrong, you know. About what you said when I asked you to be my partner. I didn't ask you because I felt guilty of all those times I never hesitated to partner up with Ron. It wasn't out of pity either. I asked you because I wanted to be your partner. I wanted to be with you. I'm sorry if it seemed that it was out of guilt, or anything else besides my true purpose.” He paused, trying to collect all his thoughts. Something told him to just confess, right then and there, the whole reason that he had asked her. To tell her that he loved her. But he didn't. Not like this.

“Goodnight, Hermione,” he said, and turned to head down to his own dormitories.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione was sitting straight up on her bed, staring at the door, unwavering and never blinking. She heard his footsteps go down the stairs. A faint smile spread across her face, her heart beating fast and hard, and her stomach releasing its warm, bubbly substance, along with the butterflies. She sighed, her smile getting wider. Part of her wanted to go run after him, and just kiss him. But the other part just wanted to lay here and just.. Appreciate this moment. Appreciate Harry. She used to be angry with him, but she just couldn't anymore. His words, everything. They were perfect.

She collapsed, her back against the soft covers of her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, and smiled.

She felt her heart beat faster and harder as she remembered the measly six-worded sentence he had said. Even when he had meant it in the `friendly' way, something deep inside of her wished that he didn't mean it only in that way. She sighed again, the words ringing through her head.

“I wanted to be with you..”

Abundant Skies

Chapter Seven: Late Night Literature

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I forgot to thank PolishPrincess for her suggestion of Ron and Lavender together, so thank you! and thank you for reviewing, it really does help.

Thanks for all your reviews, and for one reviewer, I am sorry I write half-hearted D/Hr fanfics. I guess I just crave HP/HG/DM triangles too much. But, I do plan to write just a D/Hr, so don't worry.

Thanks!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry was worried about Hermione. She hadn't come down for breakfast, stopped by for lunch but left quickly, just grabbing an apple. He had seen her take a quick glance at him, but he couldn't read the look in her eyes; she was here one second and the next she was gone. He wondered what she was doing; even when they had exams she wasn't like this. Not at all. Maybe she hadn't heard him last night. Maybe it was someone else. Harry felt himself reddening at the thought; he couldn't bear the thought of saying that to someone else, when it was solely meant for Hermione and Hermione alone. She had to have heard it. Maybe she was just ignoring him. Maybe she had heard it, but was just mad at him. Still. Well, that didn't lighten him up any better, either.

He sighed, playing with his food. Ron looked over at him, and sighed.

“Mate, you do know that I am sorry for yesterday, right?” Ron said, and Harry looked at him, his expression looking tired and weary.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You alright? I mean, I know Dean snores loud, but not that loud. I thought it was at least bearable.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his untamed hair. “I'm worried about Hermione.”

Ron sighed. “Still.”

“She's just.. I apologized to her last night, when she wouldn't open the door. I just.. I know she heard me, but.. She's still.. It's worse. She doesn't even stop and sit down for a whole meal. You saw her, didn't you? She just came in, grabbed an apple and ran out.”

“It amazes me how girls can eat so little. I think she thinks she's too fat. Don't you notice what she eats at breakfast every single day? If it's not a weight issue, then I'd say she's just gone stark raving mad.”

Harry smiled faintly. “No, I don't think that's it, Ron. I think she's still mad at me.”

“How could she possibly still be mad at you?”

“I don't know.. Maybe, maybe I did something that I don't know about. Maybe I said something, or maybe-“

“Harry, you've got to stop thinking its something you did. You've got to talk to her, without a door wedged in between you two.”

“How can I? She'll just go running off again.”

“Well then, don't let her.”

“How? Force her to talk to me?”

“Exactly.”

“You mean, drag her into a room and make her talk to me?”

“If that doesn't work, tie her to a chair. Or maybe a table. You know Hermione, she's pretty strong.”

“Ron, I'm serious.”

“And what? I'm not? Come on Harry,”

“Ron, really. It's not funny. I'm really worried about her.”

Ron sighed, looking at Harry. He suddenly started chuckling, lightly.

“What?” Harry asked, confused.

“You've got it bad, Harry,” Ron said, still laughing. “Really bad.”

“Oh shut up,” Harry said, turning away.

“You've got to tell her!” Ron said. “I don't want you to be all mopey. I really don't want to drag along a lovesick Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled faintly. “Maybe you won't have to.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione got out of her bed, sneaking out quietly. She clutched a fairly thick, tried blue book in her hand, as she went out of the dormitory. She silently closed the door behind her, sighing heavily. But then she noticed that the fire was lit in the fireplace, a hazy, yellow light flooding through the front of the room. She walked closer, to the edge of the balcony-like top of the staircase. She felt a slight smile tug on the corners of her mouth, as she saw whom it was, studying so late at night.

A raven-haired boy was writing on a piece of parchment, textbook sprawled out in front of him. He seemed to be working hard, concentrating. The fire's shadow and light played across his face, making him seem so peaceful and mysterious at the same time. She watched him for a few seconds, admiring the way he wrote so quickly, although she knew it was hard to read. She watched him as he dipped his quill into the ink, and as he flipped through the textbook. She heard him sigh, placing the quill beside the parchment, and Hermione guessed, letting his hand rest.

But then, she hadn't noticed her grip on her book getting loose and looser, until it dropped from her hand, and landed on the floor with a thud. Hermione winced as she heard the thud; it seemed to be amplified across the room, echoing from the walls. She froze. Harry whipped around, to see who it was, and he felt his heart stop.

Hermione looked down at him, as he saw her. She felt as if everything had vanished around her, as she was trapped in his gaze again. She felt the same tingling, warm sensation shiver through her body, her nerves humming and flashing. Suddenly, a spark from the fire crackled loudly, and she was snapped out of her trance. She felt warmth spread through her cheeks, as she bent down to get her book, flustered. Harry quickly stood up, watching her.

“Hermione?” He said, hoping she would stay.

“Er. Yes, Harry?” she answered, still fumbling with the book. She hoped to leave. She hoped he'd let her, but at the same time, beg her to stay.

“Are- Are you coming down?” He asked.

“I.. Um, Well, I was just going to-“ She paused when she saw the look in Harry's eyes. His emerald eyes were pleading at her, telling her to stay. How could she say no? She sighed, looking at the book in her hand.

“Well, alright,” she said, and went down the stairs. Harry watched her, feeling his heart beat fast, as he nervously ran his hand through his hair. He watched her as she stood before him, in her simple black tank and dark cotton trousers. Somehow, letting his eyes roam her body.. The room seemed to be getting so much hotter. Her creamy skin seemed so smooth, with the shadows chasing the light on her skin.. He wondered how it would feel to touch her, to feel her.. How she would taste. He swallowed hard, shutting his eyes for a second to make his mind refocus. Hermione saw him close his eyes.

She stood, uneasy. “Um, Harry? Are you okay? I can go back, you know, I didn't mean to interrupt. You look busy so maybe it would just be better-“

Harry's eyes bolted open. “No!” He suddenly said. He tried shallow his breathe, trying to calm down.

“What I mean is, no. I want you to stay,” he said to her. Hermione smiled at him, faintly, and he could feel his heart skip a beat.

“Oh, alright then,” she said softly, before sitting down on the couch. He watched her, before taking his seat back on the desk. He observed her, as she avoided his gaze, looking at her feet, at her hands, at the fire.. Was she really that uncomfortable around him? Why?

“I.. I didn't see you at dinner today,” he said quietly.

“Oh,” she said. “Well, I was just.. I was just getting some things done. You know, for our classes. I wasn't all that hungry, anyway.” There was silence, as Harry could smell the raw odor of dishonesty in the room. Harry stood up, and took a seat closer to her, facing and just inches from her.

“Hermione.. What's going on?” He asked her. Hermione looked up, and knew immediately she shouldn't have. She felt as if he could see right through her, but she tried her best to block it. Block the contact. He couldn't know. He couldn't see. She didn't want him to. She quickly turned away, turning her gaze to the fire.

“It's nothing Harry,” she said, softly. “It's really nothing. You shouldn't fret about me. I'm just fine. Just busy.”

“You're lying to me, Hermione,” he said. “I know it.”

She sighed, and closed her eyes. He knew she was lying. So what was she going to say? What could she say? Was there anything she could say at all that he would believe, that was besides the truth? She didn't answer. She didn't have one.

“You can tell me.”

“That's what everyone says,” she said, almost inaudible.

“It's true.”

“What if there's nothing to tell? What if.. Everything was just fine? What would I say?”

“Well I'd say you're about the worst liar in the world.” Hermione smiled faintly, amazed at how he could see that about her so well.

“You're right,” she said. Harry sighed, just watching her. Her wavy brown hair was on her shoulders, only almost in a ponytail. Her brown eyes glittered from the firelight, her hands so small and smooth wrapped around her beat up book. She was beautiful.

She sighed. “I just wanted to tell you that.. Well, I heard your apology,” she said, turning to him. Her eyes were dark but shone kindness, a faint smile on her pretty face.

“It wasn't you, Harry,” she said softly. “I just.. Well, I've been avoiding you because..” She paused, not exactly knowing what to say next. “I just.. I haven't felt myself lately. I'm sorry if I made you think it was something you did.”

“But there was something wrong, wasn't there?” He asked, the softness and gentleness in his voice melting everything inside her.

She sighed again, but didn't answer his question. But she spoke seconds later,

“Are you doing your essay?” She looked over behind him, where his parchment and textbook lay. He smiled, although wanting to go back to his question. She was hiding so many things; he could feel it. What could it be that she couldn't tell him?

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly. “Everyone else was asleep, so I headed down here,” he looked at her. “What about you?”

Hermione smiled, looking down at her book. The tattered side, the beat-up and faded cover.

“Just a bit of late night literature,” she said, as she looked up. “I couldn't sleep.”

Harry smiled widely. “So we're both insomniacs.”

“I guess so.”

She turned her gaze to the fire, her conscience constantly reminding her that here was Harry Potter, the boy she had loved for years. This was her chance. She could tell him now. It was perfect. They were alone. Hermione sighed.

“I'm going to go,” she said, standing up. “I don't want to keep you.” Harry stood up.

“You're not,” he said, quickly. But Hermione was already heading towards the stairs. Harry screamed at himself mentally; say something! SAY SOMETHING!! DON'T LET HER LEAVE!!

“Hermione!” He said. She froze.

“Stay, please,” he said. “I want you to stay.” Hermione felt the need to go back up to the dormitory, and just think of everything that had happened as what it really was. Just a talk. He didn't feel for her romantically. He didn't do it because he loved her. No, he just did it because she was her friend, and he was worried. He didn't love her. He never could. She sighed, her heart tugging at her, but at the same time heavy.

She needed to go. She wanted to stay. Needed to go. Wanted to stay. She had to make up her mind. But it hurt, being there with Harry, moment ago. Just as friends. Knowing he wasn't feeling, seeing this moment as she was. Knowing he wasn't feeling those same butterflies she felt. Or the constant flips her stomach did when he smiled at her. It hurt, but she wanted to stay. Needed to stay. He was asking her to stay. He wanted her to stay.

“Please, Hermione,” he said. “I want you to stay.” Hermione could just see herself going up the stairs, going into the dormitories, shutting the door, snuggling into her covers.

Then not drifting off to sleep as everyone else. She would be wide-awake, thinking about the green-eyed boy who managed to capture her heart without knowing it.

She turned around, and looked at Harry. His eyes pleaded at her.

“Alright then,” she said softly. “I'll stay.”

And she headed down the stairs and back into the common room.

Abundant Skies

Chapter Eight: Feet High Off the Ground

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione woke up, her eyes heavy, but the slumber she had been in would not return, she was sure. It was always like this. She would wake up, still be awfully tired, but not tired enough to go to sleep again, apparently. She rolled over to her side, and sighed. She could hear the rustling and footsteps thudding on the carpet; her fellow Gryffindor girls running to the bathroom, then back again to get their hair and make-up fixed. She was late, obviously, but she didn't mind. Today was the weekend. Nothing was going on, except that flying deal she made with Ron and Harry. She groaned, as she sat up.

She had forgotten about it for the past week. If she had just bloody remembered, she could've scheduled to do something for a Professor, or delayed doing one of her assignments so she didn't have to go outside and watch them fly. She figured it was just a waste of time, anyway, although watching Harry.. She didn't really mind. But now it was truly bugging her; what about her little `tactic' or `plan'? She sighed, as she collapsed back on the bed. What was she going to do? It was obvious her lame little plan had failed. But she didn't have any other back up plans; she couldn't think of any.

“What am I going to do?” She groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“About what?” She heard someone ask. She peeped through her fingers, and saw Lavender staring down at her, brushing her hair. Hermione sighed, as she lowered her hands.

“Ron made me promise to go with him and Harry while they fly. For three weekends.”

Lavender smiled. “Well, at least you've got something to do.”

“Except I don't want to do it.”

“I'd say you're lucky.”

“Why? I hate flying. I only go out there and watch. Do you have any idea how boring that is?”

“Oh come on, Hermione,” Lavender said. “Get up, and take a shower. You have to get ready for your little flying lesson with Harry.”

Hermione gaped at her. “Who told you about that?”

Lavender grinned. “Just get up, and get ready. Come on, come on.” Hermione scowled at her, as she got up, and headed into the bathroom, grumbling.

Hermione dressed in a simple T-shirt, and trousers, as she combed her hair, after performing a simple drying spell. She still didn't know what to do. So, her plan failed. It was no use any more. She still loved him. What was she going to do?

She sighed, as Lavender almost dragged her out of the dormitories for breakfast. Hermione was left alone, as they walked through the corridor. She thought about last night, with Harry. The way he had asked her to stay. And the thoughts that had been running through her mind when she said yes. Nothing had happened of course, they had just talked. Friend to friend. Though it wasn't like old times. The old times were carefree, no major feelings really attached to their conversations. But she remembered she couldn't help but look away every time he looked up at her again. His green gaze saw right through her, piercing through her shield. Maybe he knew too much. He was worried about her; she could see it in his eyes. He hadn't believed her. She hated it that he saw through her lies, as if she was so transparent. She would never lie to Harry, unless it was important. But this was important. She couldn't tell him the truth. That she adored him with every fiber of her being. He would hate her, be disgusted.

That's just the way it was.

Keeping it to yourself was always the best solution. Because it would go away. It would vanish, and when you look back on it, you would just laugh and remember how stupid you were. It wasn't the real thing. Not with Harry. It couldn't be.

She remembered she could feel her hands get sweaty, her throat getting dry. Her stomach kept doing constant flips, her heart beating fast. She remembered wishing she hadn't said yes. Wishing she was tucked in her bed, thinking about Harry. She felt nervous, and uneasy, not knowing what to say. What could you say to the person you've loved for years? Could she have told him how much it hurt to be there with him, in the room? Could she have told him how much she adored him?

Could she have told him she loved him?

Even if she could've, she wouldn't be able to. Too many things held her back. She was chained to an indestructible wall, unbreakable shackles on her. No matter how hard she would try to break free, she couldn't. And every time she tried, she just got weaker, even more tired and fragile. She wanted to tell him, but didn't want to at the same time. Maybe she was thinking too much, just analyzing everything too much. Why couldn't she be one of those girls who just did something without even thinking about it? Why couldn't she be spontaneous and unpredictable? She sighed. Those girls often ended up in jail, or dead. Whichever one fitted their situation better.

She entered the Great Hall, hearing the clinks and clanks of silver ware, laughter and conversations; happiness. She took a seat next to Ron, silent. She felt as if she didn't belong. She looked around and saw everyone seemed to be happy, to be having a good time. Well, why wouldn't they be? It's the weekend. To her, it made no difference, weekend or not. In fact, she preferred having classes. Maybe because she enjoyed learning, maybe because she enjoyed being assigned more homework. Or also maybe because it distracted her. From her life, her feelings, Harry. Maybe she liked being absorbed in what the teacher was saying because for once, she wasn't where she didn't want to be. She was.. Nowhere. Where Harry didn't exist, her love for him vanished and forgotten. No one there to interrogate her about why she was avoiding him, why she did that and this. Maybe for that whole period, she was safe. She was gone. She was as far as she could be from Hogwarts. She needed that.

She needed her assignments, loads of work. To get soaked in, to make her disappear. Or rather, make everything else disappear. She didn't love Harry there. She didn't feel for him, she didn't know him. She didn't know herself. It was just a secret window to escape through.

People wonder why she liked classes and homework so much, she knew. She'd never tell them. They could just assume; she didn't care. Why even bother if she knew they wouldn't even understand? Or even take the time to? They probably had the perfect life. Or even almost perfect. And somewhere deep inside, she envied them. They were probably carefree, feeling just the mutual feelings they should be feeling for friends. But, of course, Hermione was an outsider. Why? She was odd. And odd-looking, plain. She enjoyed reading, actually studied weeks before a test.

Oh yeah, and in love with Harry Potter. Her best friend.

She was pretty sure she would never get to tell him. How much he meant to her, how he made her feel. But maybe it was just better that way. She would just forget all about it, and it would just turn out to be puppy love, and not the real thing. Yeah. It was never the real thing. She was just overwhelmed, not feeling anything like it before. It was intense, deep, strong.. Controlling. She didn't know what to make of it.

“Hermione?” Hermione's train of thought was broken, and everything around her became visible and audible again. She could hear the laughter, the loud conversations, silver ware..

“Hermione?” She turned to Ron, who had been calling her.

“Yeah?” She said, her head feeling a bit dizzy from the sudden volume of the noise.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I'm fine,” she said, her eyes finally focusing on her red haired friend.

“You're coming with me and Harry today, don't forget that,” he told her. She sighed, looking back her plate. Empty. Oh well. She wasn't hungry anyway.

“Are you sure you're okay? You should eat something.”

“I'm not hungry,” she said, and just poured herself from pumpkin juice.

“Girls,” Ron muttered under his breath, turning back to Harry and Dean.

Harry's gaze stayed on Hermione. `Look at her,' he told himself. `Talk to her, say something.' But what? Last night had been fun, but she was so tight lipped, so tense even if she had tried to make it seem like she was comfortable. It was awkward, silence in the air. Even as though he had just appreciated the night, just being there with her, without her running off with a lame excuse, he knew there was more. This wasn't Hermione. She was hiding something. Something that made her so tense, so odd. He wanted to know what it was; was it making her sad? Depressed? He wanted to help her. Needed to help her. But she wouldn't tell him, so obviously she didn't want him to know.

And now, as he watched her get a far away look in her eyes again, he felt the need to just grab her by the shoulders and shake the truth out of her. All his frustration built up inside him, the hours of trying to figure out what it was he had done to make her act this way. He had apologized. But for what? She still hadn't told him what it was that had been bothering her. She had just cleared him of any faults. But that wasn't enough. It wasn't even close. He wanted to know the truth, wanted the worry and fear to subside in him. She couldn't keep it bottled up inside her forever. She needed to tell someone. What could it possibly be? Could she be hurting? Could she be hurting herself? Harry just couldn't take it.

He wanted to know she was fine. He wanted her to tell him that everything was okay, without dishonesty and doubt clouding her eyes. He wanted her to laugh again, her deep brown eyes sparkling. He wanted to see her smile, truly smile. He wanted to know that she wasn't breaking inside, folding, crumbling. He wanted to hear the truth, wanted to see the heavy burden be lifted off her. He wanted to know she was okay.

That she was doing just fine.

But it was killing him, her lies. Denying everything. He just wanted to know the bloody truth! What could it possibly be that she couldn't tell him, or Ron? What could it be?!

He didn't like seeing her like this. Dead, still-like. Lost. Gone. She didn't know what she was doing to him. She was torturing him. Being so dishonest, so fake. Maybe she didn't trust him. Maybe she just didn't want to hurt him.

Well, she already was.

Harry felt someone nudge him, as he tore his gaze away from the oblivious girl, slowly.

“Are you ready?” Ron asked. Harry sighed, as he nodded.

“I'll go get the brooms, and I'll meet you there,” Ron said, smiling, as he got up and walked out of the Great Hall. Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. He turned, and saw that Hermione was already out of her seat. She was smiling at him.

“Ready?” He asked her, and she nodded. He joined her as they walked out.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione could feel the butterflies erupt in her stomach, walking next to Harry. It was silent, their footsteps echoing off the walls. Silence. It was deafening.

“Why are you so scared of flying, Hermione?” Harry suddenly asked, his voice quiet.

Hermione sighed. “I don't know. How are fears made, anyway?”

“Facing it is the first step to conquering it.”

“I don't think I can,” she said, softly.

“You can. You've got to try.”

“Maybe, trying isn't good enough.”

“That's bollocks.” Hermione smiled, as she sighed again. There was silence again, but Harry spoke.

“Ron's going to make you, you know,” he said.

“What?”

“Make you take me up on my offer,” he grinned. “I thought I'd just let you know.”

“He can't do that,” she said. “It's my right to decide whether I want to be high up scared out of my wits, in mid air.”

“Have you forgotten how he is?”

“You guys want to kill me, I'm sure,” she grinned.

“That's not true,” he smiled. She looked up at him, and felt a warmth spread through her heart, tapping into her blood stream, spreading, and growing. Her skin tingled, her nerves buzzing and active. She felt her heart beating hard, rapidly.

His deep emerald eyes glittered, as they stepped out into the bright sunshine. She felt as if the sun had just melted the frozen over remains of her heart. She smiled, widely, as Ron came into view. It was the first time in weeks that she had smiled that way.

Ron handed Harry his broom, as he grinned at Hermione. He had been spending some time to try and convince her to try to fly. He wasn't having much success.

“Hermione.. You know you want to try flying. Come on, it'll be fun,” he said to her.

“No thank you, Ron,” she said.

“Stop being so stubborn.”

“I don't want to.”

“You're being a coward, you chicken.” Hermione sighed.

“So what if I'm afraid? You can't make me.”

“Who says?”

“Ronald Weasley,” she said in a warning tone.

“Hermione.. How are you going to ever know if you don't like it if you don't try it?”

“Easy. I just know.”

“Oh you're being a hard headed prick, Hermione. Just do it.”

“No.”

“Go or I will extend our deal for another month.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“I would too.”

“You couldn't force me to come out here.”

“I could drag you.”

“You could not.”

“I could too. Just do it, Hermione! Stop arguing with me!”

“I told you I don't want to, and I'm not going to!”

Ron sighed, getting frustrated. He turned to Harry.

“Tell her she has to, Harry.”

“You've got to, Hermione,” Harry grinned. Hermione gaped at the both of them.

“See Hermione? It's two against one. Its doesn't take a genius to figure out we've won.”

“I'm not going to.”

“Fine. One month. Out here.”

“That IS NOT FAIR AND YOU KNOW IT, RON.”

“Life's not fair, Hermione.” Hermione sighed, looking around. The skies were clear, with white, wispy clouds. She imagined herself out there. On nothing but a stupid broomstick. She felt a cold shiver trace up her spine. Fear. She couldn't do it. She couldn't be off the ground. She'd faint. She was sure. She imagined looking down, the ground so far.. Imagined herself falling, feeling the air rushing in her ears, combing through her tresses rapidly. Imagined the ground coming up to meet her..

The sickening thud of a body on the ground. Broken neck, broken limbs, fractured lungs.. Perhaps dead. Cold, lifeless.

She let out a ragged sigh, her hands and face feeling cold. She looked at them, her eyes glimmering as if she was about to cry.

“I can't, “ she said, almost inaudibly. Ron sighed. She turned to walk towards the seats, but Harry ran after her and grabbed her arm. She turned around, his green gaze piercing through her.

“You can,” he said to her. “Come on,” he said, as he entwined his fingers with hers, and led her to the middle of the quidditch field. Hermione stared at his fingers, his hand holding hers tightly. She could feel the sudden coldness pressing on her skin suddenly become scolding hot. His fingers burned her skin, her heart beating so quickly. Suddenly he let go, and she was cold again. The chilly air taunted her, as she looked up towards the sky. It was so far. So endless.

Could she bear to be up there? Even if she was with Harry? Would he let her fall? Would he catch her? She felt as if she was going to be sick.

Harry perched on the broom, waiting for her.

“Come on, Hermione,” he said. “It's not scary at all. Just get on, and you'll see.” Hermione stared at him, then at the broom, then at the ground. She swallowed hard, as she came closer. `Well, this is it,' she thought to herself. `Here goes nothing.'

She swung her leg to the other side, sitting behind Harry. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, his warm body pressing against hers. Her heart was beating so hard, so loud. Because she was just about going to go about fifty feet in the sky. And because here she was, holding the boy she loved. It would've been great, if they didn't have to go fly up in midair.

Harry smiled, as he felt her warm arms wrap around him, squeezing tightly. He could almost feel her trembling. He could feel his heart pounding inside his chest, being so close against her. Her soft, heated body was pressed up against him, making him feel awfully warm. He felt as if a warm, glowing white light had filled him, spreading everywhere. His skin suddenly tingled, from such close contact from her. But somehow, he wished, they could stay this way.. He sighed.

“Ready?” He asked her, softly. Hermione swallowed hard, as she nodded. She held on tightly.

“Promise me you won't let me fall, Harry,” she whispered to him, her soft breaths making his neck tingle. “Promise me you'll catch me if I do.” He could hear fear in her voice, as he smiled and gripped the handle.

“I won't let anything happen to you, Hermione,” he whispered back to her. “I promise.”

Slowly, he kicked off the ground, and Hermione could feel the firm ground becoming farther and farther away. Her feet felt so odd dangling in the air. She didn't know how far they were, for she had closed her eyes tightly, feeling as if she was going to die of a heart attack any minute now.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

On the green, hard ground, Ron stared up at them, smiling wildly.

“Harry, well you got your wish, didn't you? You sly dog, you.” He chuckled, as he turned and left, figuring Harry wanted some alone time with the girl of his dreams.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Hermione, open your eyes,” Harry said to her. Hermione opened her eyes, slowly, and felt her breath cease in her throat. It was beautiful.

The endless blue sky, the sun peaking out from the unknown. It was breathtaking.

She gasped. “Oh, Harry,” she said, looking and marveling at the sight. Harry smiled; as he felt her hands around him loosen.

“It's beautiful,” she said, softly.

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed. Although he knew it wasn't nearly as beautiful as her. He wondered what she would do if he told her that. Would she be pleased? Shocked? Disgusted?

Suddenly, Hermione looked down, and she felt everything rush back to her. She was fifty feet off the ground, maybe more. She tightened her arms around Harry, and closed her eyes again. She swallowed, trying to stop her heart from beating so fast.

Although, she didn't know if it was beating that way because she was scared out of her wits, or because she was holding Harry. And the fact that he felt so warm, and smelled so nice.. Like fresh rain.

“I'm going to die,” she said.

Harry chuckled, lightly. “I should've told you not to look down. Sorry.”

“What's done is done, Harry,” she said, trying to calm herself down. But her nerves were frantic, electricity crackling through her veins, from her compressed contact with him. She let out a ragged sigh.

“Still scared?” Harry asked.

“Terrified.” He smiled, feeling the butterflies in his stomach go into hyper speed. Her hands felt so warm around him, and he couldn't say he minded being so pressed up against her..

He closed his eyes, trying to rid of his thoughts. `She's your friend,' he told himself. `That's all she'll ever be.' He felt a slight weight place upon his heart. He sighed. Friends. Right. Just friends.

“We're going back down,” he told her, and she nodded. She opened her eyes, slowly, as she felt them slowly lowering.

She sighed, as she felt the soles of her feet once again come back into contact with the solid ground. She felt so relieved. She was back. She noticed she was still holding him tightly, so she unwrapped her arms around him. She got off the broom, watching him. She had never wanted to let go. Harry got off of the broom, and picked it up with his hand, clutching it like a staff. He smiled at her, his green eyes twinkling brightly. She could help but smile back.

“Well, that wasn't so bad, wasn't it?” He said, as they started walking.

“I guess not. But I'm still never going to do that again,” she chuckled lightly.

Harry laughed lightly. “I guess I understand. It takes a bit of getting used to. But I like going up there, sometimes, and just watch the sunset, to clear my mind.”

Hermione smiled. But then she remembered Ron.

“Where's Ron?”

Harry was silent, but couldn't help grinning wildly, realizing what his friend had done for him. “I guess he had to run off somewhere,” he said.

Hermione nodded. Deep inside, she was shouting thank you's to Ron. She was glad he left, as mean as that was. She just got the feeling Harry wouldn't have acted the same if Ron had been watching. Not to leave out that it would be awkward.

She smiled, faintly, as they entered the corridors. She felt the warmth trying to fight the coldness that had been plastered on her skin from the chilly breeze. She snuck a glance at Harry, and caught his gaze.

He smiled at her, remembering how and why he had fallen for her in the first place.

Because she was Hermione Granger.

And because there couldn't be anyone else better or more perfect, in his eyes.

Abundant Skies

Chapter Nine: Mistake

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Well.. This chapter's going to be a real treat.. Tee hee. I'm not going to give away why, so you'll just have to read it and find out..

Hope you guys like it!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hermione concentrated on her work, scanning the text rapidly and trying to write down notes at the same time. Professor McGonagall had assigned a new essay for them, and of course, she couldn't help but get started on it. She knew she had plenty of time. Three weeks. But it somehow relaxed her. Although it was more difficult to do, with the constant flips her stomach kept doing and her eyes flickering up to the boy in front of her. Restless butterflies filled her stomach, frantic.

Harry Potter.

She didn't know why she had agreed to do their homework together. She didn't know how the yes had just zipped out of her mouth without any thought or hesitation. She would've made an excuse right after, but she couldn't. Harry's face had lit up the moment she responded, and she wasn't sure she had seen him.. So glad before. She didn't know why, of course, but she figured it was because he needed help with his assignment. But so far, more than half and hour had gone by, and not a word uttered to her, asking for help. So why had he asked her to be here with him? Maybe he had just realized how easy it was, and figured he didn't need her help anymore. Hermione sighed, as she turned her gaze back to her work. Neat, perfect aligned paragraphs, readable handwriting. She picked up the textbook, and flipped through the pages, trying to find the next creature that was considered `easily transformable'. She started working again, although her wrist ached, from writing straight for half an hour.

Harry's eyes flickered up at Hermione, as he skimmed through his textbook. She seemed to be focused, concentrating, as always. Unlike him. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't think. His eyes read the words, but didn't seem to remember what they meant. So, basically, he kept reading the same page over and over again. He wasn't getting far. He was so distracted, by the girl in front of him. Every time she dipped her quill in ink, flipped a page, wrote down a little note, every time she bit her lip.. He was watching her. He couldn't help but to. He was so captivated, mesmerized by her. The fire was thriving and strong, in the fireplace, providing good light for them to study and read in. But he didn't see the way the firelight made everything much clearer in his textbook, or the way his eyes were less strained unlike the last time. He could only see the way the light and shades played across her face, the way she looked so radiant.. Her hair seemed much lighter, wavy and luminous on her shoulders. He didn't know someone could be so beautiful.

He had asked her to study with him, here in the common room, while everyone else was supposed to be asleep. Of course he had known he wouldn't be able to do his work, on account of his lingering gaze and the rapid frenzy of butterflies in his stomach. But he wanted to be with her, even if it meant not doing what he had planned to do, which was get his essay done. He didn't know when else he could be alone with her, without Lavender and Ron around, and the other Gryffindors. Some of them were already suspicious of his feelings for her, if not sure by now. He didn't want them to tease him when they saw him with her, seeming to be more than `friendly'. Or their stupid little inside jokes. Hermione would figure out, if they would pull one of their acts in front of her. She was smart. She would find out how he truly felt about her. And somehow he wanted her to. He wanted her to know that he loved her, and would do anything to be with her. But there was just too much at stake. He might lose her. He couldn't bear that.

Hermione's gaze traveled to Harry, and noticed his eyes were on her, also. She could feel her quill suddenly loosen in her grip, as she tried to search his eyes. Why was he looking at her like that? Why did he look at her like.. He longed for her? Hermione could feel her heart beat fast in her chest, as she set down her textbook. Harry suddenly realized that she had noticed him staring, and looked down quickly, flustered. He felt warmth spread through his cheeks, as he heard the rustling of her papers.

“Harry?” She said softly. He looked up, her brown eyes so warm and deep. He fought to not get lost in them, but was having an awfully hard time trying to keep it up.

“Do you need any help?” She asked. Harry looked down at his parchment, only half way done. He sighed, as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Yes, I really do.” Hermione smiled, as she got up and walked over to him. Harry could feel himself get lightheaded as she leaned over to read what he wrote, her fragrant scent filling his nose. He couldn't help but ask himself how she managed to smell so good… Cho hadn't smelled as good as Hermione. Or any other girl, but he wasn't really sure. He watched her, as her eyes traveled from line to line, rapidly. She pursed her lips together, as she went on to the next paragraph. Harry felt so light, like a feather, as he saw her lick her lips. He suddenly noticed how soft her lips seemed to be, and couldn't help but think how it would feel to kiss them.. Sweet, soft, moist, addicting.. He felt the butterflies in his stomach erupt, crackling with energy, as he looked down, reddening at what he had just been thinking. Although he knew he couldn't deny.. What he would do to get a chance to kiss her.

“What you've done is precise, and very good, so far,” she said, as she put his paper back on the desk. She looked over at him, and then the textbook he had in front of him. She read the page he had been on, and looked back at him, smiling.

“So you're having a hard time on the mortal in cage theory,” she said. “I was stuck on that one too, it's very confusing. Professor told us so little about it.” She flipped through the book, as Harry watched her.

“I think.. You'll see.. More about it.. Here,” she said, as she stopped on a page, and handed it to Harry. He read over it, and recognized the information.

“I've already read this,” he said to her. “It doesn't add up.” Hermione looked at him, puzzled.

“What doesn't add up?”

“In my other textbook, the one Professor McGonagall gave out to us a week ago, it says something completely different,” he said.

“What do you mean?” She asked him. Harry stood up, as he went over to his book bag on the couch. He picked up a fairly thick book, looking new and undamaged. He walked over to where she was, and laid the book on the table, flipping through the pages. He stopped at a page where there was a picture of a lady with a long black hair, reading over a book and constantly writing down notes on a piece of parchment.

“Here,” Harry said, pointing to a very small paragraph, only consisting of three sentences.

“A wealthy witch, named Rosalyn Aristine, descendant of a very bright and successful line of ancestors working in Transfiguration, discovered the mortal in cage theory. She received much controversy, for some people believed it was all a lie, or a plan to bring back attention to her family, because of a false concept from her great grandmother; Aresyntha Melowdin. The false concept brought many heated arguments between wealthy families, and shamed the Aristine family,” Hermione read aloud. She read over it again, just to make sure.

“Well that's odd,” she said, looking back at the other textbook. “It said it was her mother who had brought shame onto the family, not her great grandmother.”

“Exactly,” Harry agreed. “I don't know what to make of it.”

“Maybe,” Hermione bit her lip, as she scanned over the other textbook. “Maybe her mother brought shame to the family for a different reason. Its doesn't say how the mother did it, but maybe..”

Harry stood up, and flipped through the pages, finally landing on a page far in the back.

“Ara Melowdin, was the mother,” Harry said, reading over the information. “Oh,” he said, as he finished.

He handed the textbook to Hermione, and he saw a smile spread across her face, as she read over it. He could feel his heart stop for a second as she looked back up at him, her brown eyes sparkling. She looked back at the book.

“So, they had been working on it together. Ara and Aresyntha. But some people didn't believe Ara did it, because of her reputation.”

Harry smiled, “exactly.” Hermione sighed, as she walked over to her side and grabbed her parchment. She stood next to Harry, muttering an ink-erasing spell with her wand. Harry watched as a whole section of her paper vanished. Hermione picked up her quill, and started working again. Harry sighed, as he picked up his own quill and added the information.

His eyes traveled back to her, when he was done. He saw her fumbling with her paper, as a big blot from a spillage of ink stained it. She wiped it off with her finger, and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, before working again.

Hermione sighed, as she reread her paper, and put it down. She turned to Harry, and smiled.

“Well, thanks for spotting that, Harry. I never would've made sense of it, like you did.”

“It was just a matter of boredom and having a new book,” he smiled. He noticed ink on the side of her cheek, probably from the inkblot on her paper.

“Uh, Hermione, you've got ink on your cheek,” He said. She blushed, as she wiped her cheek.

“Um, a little more to the right,” he said. After a few seconds, she still didn't get it, so he raised his hand, without thinking. Hermione froze, as his fingers rose to meet up her cheek. Harry noticed what he was doing, and found himself lost in her eyes once again. He stroked her cheek, wiping away the ink smear. Hermione was frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. His fingers trailed her cheek, and she felt as if they were smoldering her skin, leaving a tingling trail that was icy but at the same time, burning. She suddenly became aware of how close they were, their faces just inches from each other's. Hermione swallowed hard, as Harry's hand made no move to retreat from her cheek.

Her skin burned pleasantly from his touch.

Suddenly she realized his hand was placed against her hot skin, sending electricity crackling through her veins, flashes, embers going off in her. Her nerves and conscience were screaming at her, in a frenzy. She was lost inside his gaze, and thought she could almost see how he was feeling, about her. But she was troubled; that couldn't be it. He couldn't feel that way about her. There was just no way.

He looked at her like he wanted her, longed for her. Like he loved her, from the very depths of his soul.

No. No. He couldn't love her. Not in that way. He didn't feel that way about her.

Harry swallowed hard, his palm placed against her smooth cheek. His heart felt as if it was going to jump out, the butterflies more energetic and hyper than ever. It seemed as if everything had disappeared. It was just him and her. Not in the common room, not anywhere. Just him and her. Alone.

Suddenly, without thinking, as he remembered her smile, her twinkling brown eyes that melted everything inside him, he spoke.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered. Hermione felt as if everything had stopped. Time, the world turning. Everything. This couldn't be.. Harry couldn't have just called her beautiful. She wasn't. She wasn't beautiful. How could he say that? Why did he say that? Hermione felt as if she was brain-dead. So many questions, so many feelings swirling inside of her. She was frozen, but all she wanted to do was run away. As fast as she could. This was all a dream. Harry hadn't called her beautiful. She had just wished he had, and it her dream was just.. NO. NO. This was just a dream.

She didn't want it to be just a dream.

Just then, she realized his face had been moving closer and closer, until she felt his lips on her own.

She had died. She just knew it.

He was kissing her. She felt his other arm wrap around her, pulling her closer until she could feel his heart beating against her own. She didn't know if this was real. It felt real. But it was against everything. He wasn't kissing her. He couldn't be.

He was.

Hermione felt light headed, dizzy.. She was fading. She couldn't hear, a white noise roared inside her ears. Her heart was going to jump out any second now. Her knees buckled, everything, her limbs, her legs. She was weak. His lips molded against hers, as she parted her mouth and his tongue slipped inside, dancing with hers. He tasted sweet, like a god sent heavenly drug that filled her soul. His hand burned through her thin shirt, holding her so close she could smell his scent once again. His palm smoldered her cheek, tingling and fiery. She could feel herself kissing him back, although she hadn't chosen to. He deepened the kiss, as his hand on her cheek slid down, and wrapped around her waste, holding her even closer.

Harry hadn't felt anything like it before. Her lips were so soft, so sweet, and addicting. He pressed her small frame against his lean body, as her hand rested on his chest. Her touch, even with a piece of cloth separating form his bare skin, burned him. Scarred him. He deepened the kiss, as she started kissing back, their tongues massaging against each other's. Harry could feel tiny explosions inside of him, his nerves humming with excitement and immense energy. His hands stung, caressing her soft and warm body.

Just then, they heard the door open and footsteps.

“Hermione-“ they sprang apart, as Lavender was atop the stairs, gaping at them. Hermione looked at Harry, his lips swollen and his hair as messy as ever. She could feel her cheeks burning up, as she screamed at herself mentally. No, this was not happening. It didn't happen. Hermione ran to the table quickly, and gathered her things, as Harry watched her, still speechless from what had happened. Hermione stuffed her parchments, not caring if they would rip or wrinkle, as she ran past him. She was breathing hard, her heart pounding, her legs still wobbly and weak. Her head felt light, dizzy. She was still in a daze, about what had happened, about everything. But she had to get out of here. She had to get away from him.

“Hermione-“ He called out, but she was already running up the stairs, and into the girl's dormitories, slamming the door behind her. Harry stared at the door, his thoughts swarming so rapidly in his head, making him feel even more lightheaded and shaky. He sighed heavily, as it came out in ragged breaths. He ran a hand through his hair, as his gaze traveled to Lavender. She was still gaping at him, at what she saw. He quickly turned away, and started gathering his things.

Lavender, surprised and stunned, slowly walked into the girl's dormitories, and found Hermione in her bed. She had to squint in the dark, to see that she had the covers over her head. Lavender got into her own bed, beside Hermione's.

Hermione was breathing hard, the cold covers against her skin and making contact through her thin shirt. She heard the rustling of Lavender's covers, and Hermione knew she was going to ask about what had happened. Hermione wouldn't know what to say. She didn't want to talk about it, ever. It just happened. Spur of the moment. It meant nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing to Harry, nothing to her. Nothing to anyone.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

She closed her eyes tightly, screaming at herself, telling her to forget. But she couldn't. She could still see everything. She still saw Harry's emerald eyes, and the way he had looked at her. Her cheek tingled where his palm had lay. Her ears rang, from the words he had uttered. Her lips still stung, as if fiery bees had had kissed her. Her hands were trembling, her body so cold, missing the warmth of his body against hers terribly. She remembered the way he had held her so closely, his gentle hands pressing her so closely against him. She felt a shiver trace up her spine, as she remembered the way he had kissed her so passionately, so intensely. She licked her lips, still shaking. She could still taste him in her mouth.

“Hermione?” She heard Lavender whisper. Hermione didn't answer. Her head was throbbing, as if some blinding mist had invaded her mind.

“Hermione, I know you're awake. No one can sleep after THAT happened.”

Hermione stayed silent, silently wishing Lavender would just shut up and leave her be.

“Hermione..”

Hermione shut her eyes, tightly.

“Hermione, he kissed you. Come on. I know he's been wanting to do that for quite some time now.”

“How can you say that?” Hermione suddenly snapped at her. Lavender grinned in the darkness.

“He likes you.”

“No he doesn't.”

“Yes he does. Hell, he might even love you, the way he kissed you so-“

“Shut up!” Hermione whispered, harshly. Lavender sighed.

“You're angry.”

“I have every right to be.”

“Why? He just kissed you. I know you wanted him to.”

“No, I did not WANT him to,” she lied. “It was a mistake. It meant nothing.”

“That's bollocks, Hermione.”

“It's the truth.”

“No it isn't.”

“How do you know?” Hermione snapped at her.

“Because Harry wouldn't do that. Harry wouldn't kiss someone because it was just spur of the moment.”

“You don't know that.”

“Yes I do.”

“You're wrong.” Lavender sighed. Why was Hermione so bloody stubborn?

“He wouldn't do that, Hermione,” Lavender said softly.

Hermione sighed, silent. Lavender didn't know what she was saying. Lavender couldn't know why he had kissed her. She wasn't there. She couldn't read Harry's mind.

After a while, Lavender spoke again.

“How do you feel?” She asked, quietly.

“Scared,” Hermione whispered. She was terrified. What did the kiss put her in now? How was she going to face him tomorrow? She couldn't. There was just no way. It wasn't going to be the same. Everything. Everything was never going to be the same.

It was all her fault. If only she hadn't agreed, if only she had just said no, she had other stuff to do. He never would've kissed her. She never would've kissed him back. She never would've wanted to kiss him some more. It was all her fault. She had ruined it, everything. She had done everything she had hoped wouldn't happen.

What would she say to Harry? What would he say to her? Could she even work up the courage to utter a word to him?

“Why?” Lavender whispered.

“Because I just don't know anymore,” she said softly. “I don't know. Everything's just.. I just don't know what to do, Lavender. It's so unpredictable now.. What happened.. I don't know where that puts me. Where that puts us.”

“He meant it, Hermione. He meant to kiss you.”

“No he didn't,” Hermione said, quietly. Lavender heard sadness in her voice.

“It was just a mistake. That's all it was.”

Abundant Skies

Disclaimer: I am so so so sorry! I forgot to put the disclaimer in the other chapters! Well, you all know it anyway, but I will try my hardest to remember to always put the disclaimer in the future chapters! (so here it is) I don't own Harry or Hermione, or any of the other characters. Just the plot.

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Well, I hoped you guys liked what happened, eh? I know, it wasn't all that fair, because Hermione doesn't want to believe he really does have feelings for her, and whatever. I'm guessing, she just likes simple things. No complications. And, I guess she just can't understand why Harry would like her, let alone love her. I guess, she just doesn't know what he sees in her. I'm sure we've all felt that way, if not in the past, then in the future, right? (By the way, the last chapter was on a weekday, Friday, to be exact. So it's the weekend again in this chapter.)

Hope you all have a great day. Cheerios.

P.S. do you guys have any recommendations for any other fanfiction sites I could submit this, or `Wonderwall' to? Maybe, like a Harry/hermione fanfic site, or a draco/hermione site? I've been trying to submit my fic to some websites, and a lot of their email addresses aren't working. And the other sites, I guess they rejected my fic. So, if you guys know any good sites, I would love it if you could tell me. Thanks a bunch.

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Chapter Ten: Don't Explain

Hermione woke up the next day, tired. She didn't want to get up; her whole body felt stiff and so weary. She shut her eyes, rolling over to the side, wrapping the covers around her. She fell back into a sweet slumber.

It was around twelve o'clock she finally woke, but wished she felt so tired she could sleep through the rest of her life. She didn't want to go down for lunch, for that meant seeing Harry. But she could feel her stomach growling, demanding food. She groaned, staring up at the ceiling. The room was silent, for everyone had gone out. It was the weekend once again. She still remembered last night's events as clear as day. She couldn't face Harry. She knew she would just hurry away, avoiding him. She hated it that she let him kiss her. Or she let herself kiss him. She didn't know, she couldn't remember who had leaned in first. But she knew she should've done something about it. Turned away, maybe. But she knew even if she wanted to, she couldn't. She could never turn away from Harry. She felt miserable.

“Why? Why me?” She asked the bare ceiling, half expecting it to cave in and crash on her. She wished it would, to be buried underneath all the rubble and mess. Dead. At least she wouldn't have to worry about what to do when she saw Harry, what to say, or if she should see him at all. She could go back to the whole ignoring him part, even if it was terribly hard and painful to push him away all the time. It almost hurt as much as looking into those deep emerald eyes of his, seeing all his thoughts, reading his feelings so clearly that it frightened her. She didn't want to see confusion, or pain in them. She didn't want to see anything. She didn't want to know if he had meant it, or if it truly was a mistake. She was already having such a tough time trying to convince her heart that he didn't mean it. Because to her, it didn't matter. Even if he had meant it, nothing could ever happen between them. Him and her, they were just friends. Just friends. Always been, always will be. That was just how it worked. There never could be anything more. She valued their friendship very much, and she wouldn't throw it away for something she wasn't sure would last. She wanted him to be beside her all her life, whether her love for him shall fade or last. It was a matter of keeping what she had and valued. And that was Harry's companionship.

She sighed, and suddenly she started seeing swirls and spirals of what seemed like invisible string. She shut her eyes, quickly, then opened them again, to gaze at the nude ceiling. She couldn't figure out what to do, and it was worrying her. A part of her didn't want to do anything at all, except maybe just keel over and die. But she knew there had to be something.. Something she could do to avoid speaking to Harry about what had happened, or even speaking to him period. She knew he would bring it up, one way or another, so she decided the best way was just to ignore him. Again. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard, before opening them up again. She got up, her legs stiff and wobbly, and walked over to the bathroom.

Hermione hurried out the dormitories, her hair still damp, soaking the thin fabric on her shoulders. She quickly ran, hoping to make it in time so that she could at least fill herself, not asking for any more food for at least a couple more hours. She was sure Harry was going to be there, that he would be watching her.. Simple. She just wouldn't look at him, or anyone else. She would sit far away, perhaps by Lavender, for there was this odd feeling inside of her that they had come to some sort of agreement, that what she felt for Harry was something deeper and darker than something to kid or pester about. She knew Lavender had somehow understood, last night. She knew Lavender knew about her feelings for Harry. Hermione didn't need to tell her, to confirm any of it. Lavender was sharp at these things, so Hermione had noticed. She had played matchmaker at some of the lasting couples here at Hogwarts, and Hermione was fairly impressed, but wasn't going to let her try to match her and Harry up together. Things were already so complicated, so confusing. Even Hermione herself got an aching headache that seemed to split her skull in half, every time she would try to figure it all out. Maybe this was just one of the things that weren't meant to be analyzed. And maybe she should leave it at that. But she just couldn't let it go.

She slowed her rapid footsteps, as she neared the Great Hall. She stopped in front of the closed doors, taking a deep breath, her mind throbbing with so many thoughts and feelings. She opened the doors and walked in.

Almost at once everything seemed to hit her hard; the noise, the brightness of the atmosphere, the woozy feeling it gave her. Loud voices and laughter filled her ears, along with clanging silverware that made her grit her teeth. It took everything she had to keep her eyes open, to not run out and just decide to starve herself for a few more hours. She could feel a pair of piercing emerald eyes on her immediately, and she screamed at herself not to look towards his direction. She sat beside Lavender, who was sitting near the end of the Gryffindor table. Lavender smiled faintly at Hermione as she sat down beside her, her face looking pale and almost as if she had no idea what she had walked into. Hermione's hands quivered, flimsy underneath the table. They felt cold, but burning and restless as she still felt his eyes on her. Lavender looked at Hermione, as she reached over and put a muffin on her plate. Hermione looked up at Lavender appreciatively, before biting into it. Hermione felt her stomach and taste buds thank her, as she bit into it again, starving. Lavender watched Hermione, as Hermione's eyes never left her food. She knew why. Lavender looked over at Harry, and she was right. Lavender knew Hermione had felt Harry's gaze over at her…

It amazed her at how the two seemed to know each other so much.

Lavender continued watching the green eyed boy, as his eyes never left Hermione, his focus and gaze so determined and eager. Lavender's eye flickered back to Hermione, who had already finished her muffin and was pouring herself some pumpkin juice. Lavender watched her as she gulped it down, until her glass was three fourths empty. Hermione looked up at Lavender, and saw that cloudy look in her eyes. Hermione sighed.

“So you've resulted to avoiding him,” Lavender said, in a serious but solemn tone. She didn't think Hermione was doing the right thing; from the way Harry looked at the brown haired girl, it seemed to be hurting him more than it was hurting her.

“It's not that easy, Lavender,” Hermione said, quietly but sadly. Hermione looked down on her plate, and swallowed hard. She stared at the little morsels and crumbs left on her empty plate.

“It's the only way.”

“The only way for what? It's not going to get you anywhere.”

“It might.”

“Really, now? Where?”

Hermione looked up, a flicker of anger in her eyes. “It's not as easy as you think, Lavender,” she hissed.

“Tell me.”

“I-“ Hermione sighed, running a hand through her wavy tresses. “I don't know. I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget about it, and move on.”

“You can't force yourself to forget.”

“I can try.”

“Hermione.. Don't do this.”

“What? What am I doing, Lavender?” She said, her voice almost breaking. “Do you want me to just, run up to him and confess everything I feel for him? Just run up and lay my heart on the line, his foot already in position to crush it under his heel? Is that what you want me to do? I don't.. I can't do that,” Hermione said, her brown eyes glimmering sadly, pleading. Lavender knew Hermione was begging her to tell her what to do, to tell her what the right thing was, one simple act to make everything alright again. She couldn't.

“It already hurts, Lavender,” she whispered. “This, just being in the same room, even with hundreds of people.. It hurts.”

Lavender looked at her, sadly and sympathetically. Hermione collected a ragged sigh, blinking furiously. Finally, she looked up, and said goodbye to Lavender.

Lavender wanted to tell her to stay, but closed her mouth, as she just nodded at her, silently. This was one situation she knew better than to try to fix. Hermione gave her one last look, as Lavender saw sadness in her dark brown eyes. Hermione stood up, and walked towards the Great Hall's doors. Hermione felt her footsteps getting more rapid, as she neared the doors.

Harry's eyes trailed Hermione, as she stood up and started walking towards the doors. She was leaving. Harry could feel his heart beating so fast it threatened to stop, his throat became dry. She hadn't looked at him-not even once. She was angry with him. She wanted to forget it all happened. The kiss.. She hadn't wanted it. But she had kissed him back, hadn't she? He remembered the feel of her mouth massaging against his, explosions bursting and exploding inside of him, as her tongue danced with his. She had held him close, her lips and body responding to him. She had kissed him with such passion, such intensity.. She had wanted it too. He just knew it. She wouldn't have kissed him back if she didn't. She would've pushed him away. But she didn't. She had held him close, her hands caressing and searing him.

She walked out of the Great Hall's doors, and Harry bolted out of his seat. Harry could hear Ron's calls behind him, as he ran out also, following Hermione. Luckily, as he burst out of the Great Hall, Hermione was still walking, making her way through the hall. Hermione froze as she heard the doors open, and quick footsteps. She looked behind her, and saw the raven-haired boy who had managed to plague her mind every single night. Hermione could feel her footsteps become faster, her heart banging so furiously in her chest, throbbing from all the emotions and thoughts rushing back to her, from last night. Suddenly, she realized she had broken into a run, Harry's calls so close behind her. He was fast. She knew she was no match for his long legs.

He grabbed her arm, and twisted her around, holding her by her shoulders to prevent her from trying to run away. Hermione tried to struggle in his grasp, trying to get free, but his grip tightened and she winced. Hermione looked away, but he raised one hand and tilted her chin up, to look up into his eyes. Hermione felt pain, anger, confusion, sadness and guilt rush back to her, as she stared into his dark, cloudy green eyes. He loosened his grip on her arms, as she felt her heart folding, breaking, crumbling into ruins. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. Harry's eyes told her everything she wanted to know, everything that pained her to know. She looked away, tears stinging her eyes. Harry's breaths became shallow, as she felt it on her skin, scarring her, making her skin tingle.

She couldn't look up anymore. She couldn't look up to meet his gaze. It hurt too much.

It was killing her, just being this close to him, not being able to come closer or turn and run away. She could feel her knees buckle, her limbs weakening, her world spinning and swirling into blotted colors. Her hands felt cold, her body quivering, from the sudden warmth he gave her, standing so close. She felt feverish, burning up, but the blood rushing through her veins felt as if they had turned into solid ice. The air pierced through her skin, freezing. His fingers, soft hands smoldered her skin, searing and opening old wounds that hadn't even started to heal. His touch sent flashbacks of their accidental kiss, and she could feel herself breaking down.

“Hermione..” He whispered. Hermione felt as if her shield had been shattered, pieces falling, the sound of breaking glass echoing in her ears. Couldn't he see she was hurt? Couldn't he see that he was the last person she wanted to talk to? Couldn't he see he was bringing so much pain upon her that she just felt like falling on her knees and crying until there wasn't a single tear left? Couldn't he see that?? He couldn't.

Hermione made a choking strangled sound, as she turned away, his hand on her chin left in the air. Harry looked at her, his eyes pleading, full of sadness and perhaps maybe even regret. He couldn't bear to see her like this. But he had to explain, he had to tell her. He had to tell her the kiss had meant something to him, that it wasn't accidental, or a mistake. He had wanted to kiss her, longed to feel her soft lips against his. He had to tell her he wanted to be with her. That he loved her.

“Hermione, what happened-“

“Harry, don't,” she said, her voice quiet, but breaking and painful. “Just don't.”

Harry stared at her, but spoke again.

“Please, Hermione.. Just please. Let me explain,” he said.

“No,” she whispered. “I don't want you to explain,” she said. She finally looked up, her brown eyes glimmering with a sharp hint of tears, filled with hurt and sadness. Harry felt his heart break at what he saw in them.

“Don't you see, Harry?” She said, her eyes pleading at him. “We're friends. Best friends. It wasn't supposed to happen. You didn't mean it, it was just.. Spur of the moment.”

“No!” He said suddenly. He grabbed her by the shoulders, as he looked into her eyes, trying to convince her with everything he had inside of him that he meant it.

“No, that's not it, Hermione,” he said to her. “It wasn't a mistake. It wasn't `spur of the moment'. I meant to kiss you, I meant to-“

“No, Harry!” She said, jerking away from his grasp. “You don't understand! There can't be anything between us, ever. We're friends. Nothing more. We can't be anything more, can't you see that?”

“Why?” He cried to her, his voice pained and hurt. Hermione tried to blink back her tears, telling herself she would not cry in front of him. Not in front of Harry. His eyes searched hers, earnest. “Why can't there be anything between us?”

“Because,” Hermione said,” because there just can't. The kiss meant nothing, to you and me. It was just a mistake, Harry,” she said, her voice sounding unconvincing even to her own ears. She sighed, as it came out in short, ragged breaths.

“Harry.. Look around you. There are so many other girls, pretty and smart. So many other girls who would love to be with you, who deserve to be with you. So many girls who are so much better.”

Hermione looked at him, her tears fighting to get out.

“Hermione,” he whispered. Don't be afraid.”

“I'm not afraid.”

“You're running away. People only run away because they're afraid.”

“I'm not afraid.”

“Do you love me?” Hermione felt her heart stop, her knees threatening to give away. She swallowed hard, trying to extinguish the sudden dryness of her throat.

“Do you love me, Hermione?” He asked again. She didn't answer. She couldn't. She just couldn't.

“You're running away because you're afraid. Of change. Of risk.”

“I'm not running away. You can't run away from something that was never meant to happen,” she choked out. “It was just a mistake. That's all it was.”

“How do you know?”

Hermione stayed silent, as she backed away. Harry watched her, screaming at his legs to move, but it seemed as if they were rooted to the ground. Hermione looked back up at him, one last time, before turning away and walking down the corridor, Harry watching her retreating back.

Her words rang in his ears, echoing and filling his soul, hammering everything inside of him down, into ruins.

“I just do.”

He sighed, running a hand through his untamed, jet black hair, watching her until she disappeared, not a mere trace left. He took one last look down the empty corridor, before turning and heading back to the Great Hall.

Abundant Skies

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, just the plot.

Chapter Eleven: Haunted

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Harry met Ron by the Quidditch field, the next day. He was tired, exhausted, but he needed to get up in the endless sky. That was where he could think, where he was at peace. But it seemed that wasn't enough, through these past hours. He had stayed up last night, weary, but he could not drift away. His thoughts were plagued by the kiss, Hermione.. She had looked so hurt, so pained. It confused him, angered him. Why was she being so bloody stubborn? Why couldn't she just hear him out, let him explain? Why was she so determined to believe that what had happened was just a mistake, an accident? Did she want it to be just an accident? Harry wasn't convinced. She couldn't fool him, not when he had known and watched her for so long. He couldn't figure it out. Did she want to be with him? Did she love him, like he loved her? Or did she just see him as a friend? The questions struck him hard, piercing, giving him a splintering headache. Ron and Harry sat down on the seats, for a while, as they watched the sky.

It was blue, cloudless and clear. It was a perfect day for flying. Sometimes they went up there to improve their flying skills, to reach their range of perfection. But Ron knew, Harry went there as often as he could, when he needed to. Harry had told him once, that he just went up there to clear his mind. But Ron knew all Harry did up there was think about Hermione, so that wasn't really `clearing his mind.' Ron looked at his green-eyed friend, and saw his expression was confused, slightly annoyed and angry. But solemn, at the same time. It was amazing how Harry could express so many expressions on his face at the same time. Ron sighed, as he looked around. Then he remembered Hermione's three-weekend deal. He sat up, and searched the field, the entrance to the Quidditch field. Hermione wasn't there. He looked at Harry, who still seemed to be deep in thought.

“Mate, where's Hermione?” Ron asked, as he looked out into the field once more. Harry's eyes flickered to the empty field, but returned to staring at his hands.

“I don't know.”

Ron raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Something the matter? You don't look.. As enthusiastic as you usually do when we go flying. Is it because Hermione's not here? Because, I promise you, she's going-“

“No, that's not it,” he snapped.

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing. It's nothing.” Ron searched Harry's face, and smiled faintly.

“Liar. It's about Hermione.”

Harry sighed. No use lying to Ron now. He already knew anyway.

“Have you noticed.. She missed breakfast yesterday, left early at lunch, and didn't bother coming to dinner. I didn't see her at breakfast, either. What's going on? And, yesterday.. You went after her. What happened?”

“She's avoiding me,” Harry said solemnly. “Again.”

“Why?”

Harry turned away, as he sighed again, looking into the abundant blue skies. His heart felt like it was under an immense amount of pressure when he thought about her. he could feel it crumbling, giving away.

“We were studying in the common room, and..” Harry paused, and swallowed hard. “I kissed her.”

Ron gaped at his friend, and then a wild madman grin dominated. “Are you serious? You kissed her? I can't.. You kissed her,” he said, disbelievingly.

“Lavender caught us, and she ran,” Harry said. Ron gaped at his friend, so shocked.

“Lavender caught you? Oh Harry.. Not smooth. So not smooth..”

Harry stayed silent, obviously not caring if he had been `smooth' or not. He was thinking about Hermione, the way she had rushed to gather her things that night. The way she had bolted up the stairs. She had wanted to get away from him so badly. Why? She had kissed him back, and he remembered she had held him closer.. Her soft, warm hands pulling him close.. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to rid of the glowing, warm feeling that spread through him, thinking about the way her hands felt on him. If she wanted to forget it ever happened, she could try. But even if he tried, it wouldn't work. Not even the least bit.

“So.. I take it Hermione didn't like getting caught?”

“She didn't like being KISSED, period.”

“No way. Really? Hermione?”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Just.. Let's go. She's not coming,” Harry said, picking up his broom and heading out into the field. Ron followed after him, still curious about what had happened between his two best friends.

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Hermione sat in the library, leaning against the firm bookshelf. The floor was cold underneath her legs, but she didn't mind. She rested her head on the bookshelf, as she sighed and closed her eyes. The book she had been reading for the past two hours was in her hands, although she felt weary of holding it. She had concentrated, tried to focus on what the book was trying to tell her on the famous old witches and wizards and their accomplishments. But it seemed everything they had did interested her, as her mind wandered off again. She kept thinking about Harry, the way he had looked at her when he had gone after her in the Great Hall. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to be with her. She couldn't believe it at first, and analyzed the situation again and again, trying to find some other reason as to why he would ask why there couldn't be anything more between them.

And why he had said he had truly meant to kiss her. She remembered lying on her bed in the dormitory, completely shocked and weary, confused. His words had blown her away, shattered every assumption, every thought of their kiss being a mistake. How was she going to believe that it all had been some accident when he had confirmed it to be false? He told her he meant to kiss her. Why??

Why did he have to go after her? Why did he have to tell her what she feared he would say? Why did he have to go and make it much more complicated than it already was? Why?? WHY?! She was so confused, her heart and conscience tugging at her, screaming. She was so weary of it all, so exhausted of the constant spinning of her world, the splitting headaches she got whenever she thought about it, tried to analyze it. She wanted to believe it was all just a mistake. It would make thing so much easier, that he had done it because.. Well, because he did. That he didn't do it because he really had feelings for her. She was so ready; she was all ready to believe it. Things would've been much simpler; she would go back to being friends with him, pretend like it never happened. Because it didn't, and if there were no feelings attached, it would be so easy. Things would go back to the way they were. That was all she wanted. That was all she was asking for.

She didn't know if he loved her. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to know anything more that would make her fall on her knees and cry. It all was hurting her so much, and she hadn't seen Harry since yesterday. Just thinking about him hurt. His words still rang in her ears, never fading. It was tearing her heart apart. Hermione felt her grip loosen, and the book slide off from her grasp. It slid to the floor, and she didn't move, as her eyes remained shut.

She sighed. Even reading couldn't help her now. Burying herself with schoolwork wasn't going to get her away this time. She just couldn't find a place where she could be at peace anymore, where she couldn't think of it. There was nowhere she could go, nowhere. It plagued her mind like a strong and violent virus that she couldn't run from.

She couldn't sleep at night. And even when she could, her dreams were invaded with the same raven-haired, green-eyed boy that she was determined to forget.

But she couldn't. He haunted her even when she thought she was alone.

Abundant Skies

Disclaimer: Don't own characters, just the plot.

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I'm sorry for slacking off lately.. I need motivation!! I'm sure you've noticed chapter eleven was very short and it sucked.. I know you've grown used to me updating everyday, and I try to, really.. But I've decided I don't want to write if I don't feel like it. Because what I've noticed is that when people do that, especially me, chapters and stories don't turn out as good, and I want to give you guys my best. Not second best, or anything else. But my absolute best. So, I am sorry if I don't update as much as I used to.

I do hope you all still review!

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Chapter Twelve: If Only

Hermione headed to their first class, not exactly excited as she used to be. Breakfast was dreadful. She sat away from Harry and Ron, but couldn't help but let her gaze wander to the raven-haired boy. She remembered feeling a crushing weight on her heart as she watched him, quietly talking to Ron. He looked pale, bags under his eyes as if he hadn't gotten much sleep. She looked back down at her empty plate. She hadn't gotten much sleep either. She couldn't have possibly looked any better.

True, she hadn't gone through with their `three-weekend deal.' How could she? That meant facing Harry, talking to Harry, pretending like everything was like they were before. Just fine. But everything wasn't fine. Everything wasn't like how they had been before. Everything was but how they were before. She wasn't going to act, or pretend. She didn't have enough energy to. They would be lying to Ron, lying to themselves. And, looking into those emerald eyes that had haunted her for so long.. She knew she couldn't have stayed. She would've run away. She just couldn't bear being in the same room with Harry, let alone face him. Even if Ron was there. She just couldn't. Maybe she was being a coward, because she was terrified of being face to face with Harry. She knew she was. But it wasn't just fear that prevented her from him. It was pain, confusion. Questions that she wanted to be answered so badly, but knew she couldn't bear it if they were. She knew the answers would hurt, they would sear through her already open wounds that could never manage to heal. Not when her feelings for Harry were still intact, and still as strong as before. Maybe even stronger. She didn't know how to confront them, didn't know what to make of them. She had fallen in love for her best friend. She loved her best friend. But she didn't want to do anything about it. Except wish that it would go away. Very soon. But now it was too late. Their friendship had already been tainted, with that kiss.. With his words. She still found it hard to believe that he had meant it. That he had meant to kiss her, Hermione Granger. If he loved her, she didn't know. She highly doubted it, or wished she highly doubted it. But the truth was, it was getting harder and harder to doubt his words, or that he loved her, each minute that passed. She knew she was losing it. She was officially going insane.

She walked into Potions, her eyes falling immediately on Harry, who was sitting with Ron somewhere in the back. His gaze pierced through hers, and she could feel everything rush back to her; her feelings, his words. As if an intense, melting breeze cut through her. She quickly looked away, as she found herself a seat by Lavender, who was busy writing down something on a piece of parchment. Hermione sighed, as she closed her eyes for a moment, mentally telling her heart to stop beating so fast. She opened her eyes slowly, just in time to see Professor Snape enter the classroom. Lavender quickly hid the parchment underneath the sleeve of her robe. Professor Snape eyed each of them carefully, and then started the lesson. Hermione sighed, as she took out her quill and started taking notes, trying to concentrate on taking in the information Snape was teaching them. Although, of course, as her hand took down what he was saying, it wasn't getting through to her. She could barely hear him, as the only thing that occupied her mind was the boy sitting but three rows behind her. It seemed that he was all she could think about ever since that night, as much as she was determined to forget it.

Harry watched Snape, as he took down notes about the Euera lethal plant, and how it was used in many medicines and serums for its poison, which was above all ironic. Harry's eyes fell on the wavy brown haired girl, sitting three rows ahead of him. He felt his eyes glaze over with sadness, and guilt, as he didn't bother to look down at what he was writing. He watched her as she raised her elbow off the table to dip her quill in ink, and then go back to taking notes again. Her hair cascaded down her back, past her shoulders. Harry could feel something warm and bubbly erupt inside of him, as he imagined what it would feel like to run his hands through her wavy hair.. To smell the scent of it, and he remembered how perfectly it had mixed with the faint trace of vanilla on her skin. He wondered how she would taste if he kissed her again, if she would taste just as sweet and saccharine, or even sweeter. He missed the taste of her in his mouth, her soft lips against his.. Harry quickly looked up at Snape, and realized he was behind on his notes. He muttered under his breath, as he got back to taking notes, now at a faster pace.

He knew for a long time that it wasn't safe to even be in the same room with her, especially if he was just beside her, or if she was in front, where he could watch her with ease. He would instantly get distracted, and have a hard time getting back to being focused on his studies or the lecture, for his mind would always wander back to the pretty Gryffindor girl. Especially when it was just them in the common room, or, even with Ron around, his red haired friend seemed to be invisible. He didn't know why he watched her, besides the fact that he had loved her for quite some time now. Maybe it was because he wanted to know everything about her, memorize the way she bit her lip when she was nervous, or the way her hand went from line to line on her parchment so fast, but at the same time, graceful. Hermione was so secretive, at times, especially the past month. She wouldn't open up to him, especially when he had asked her what made her avoid him. Maybe he just watched her because.. Maybe he thought he would find out what she was hiding from him, eventually, if he paid close attention. Which was ridiculous, since now she wasn't speaking to him. He sighed as he quickly got a new piece of parchment paper, and jotted down more notes.

Her avoiding him again led to another thing; the kiss. He had kissed her, because, well, he didn't know what triggered it. Maybe it was his intense feelings that had always been put on hold, or maybe because she had looked so beautiful, with her back to the fire, the firelight making her seem like an angel. It was most likely both. But he had seen in her eyes, he was almost positive, something that made his heart beat even faster and harder, until he could hear in banging in his ears. It was a clue, something that urged him to place his lips upon hers. For once, she hadn't been hiding anything. Her eyes were no longer dark and mysterious, but when he had placed his hand on her cheek, they were honest. The overwhelming, intense, severe truth that she had been struggling to hide for so long.

For one second, when he had looked into her eyes, he had thought that she had loved him too.

That she, Hermione Granger had loved him, Harry Potter, as much as he loved her.

He thought he had seen that in her eyes, as they pleaded at his. He remembered feeling his heart completely freeze, as if it had finally died from pounding in his chest. It hurt for him to think that he had just been mistaken. That it was his ego that had made him see that she loved him. Maybe he just wanted her to love him as much as he loved her so badly, that he made himself see it, although it wasn't there. But there had to be something there. There just had to be. There was something there, when he had looked into her eyes. There wasn't that cloudy haze that blocked him from reading her emotions, like when he had tried those times before. For once, she hadn't been hiding anything from him. He just wished that he could be able to look into her gaze again, just like before, and make sure that it was what he had thought it had been. What he hoped that it was. That she really did love him.

But maybe it was too much he was asking for. Although, he was slightly getting angered, every second she avoided him. She was so determined to forget it, to erase everything that happened that night. But he knew that she couldn't, that somehow deep down inside, it had meant as much to her as it did to him. It was stronger than her will to make it fade from her memory.

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Hermione headed up to the Gryffindor dormitories, another day of classes gone. Somehow she felt empty, dull, and so.. Lifeless, as she walked through the empty corridors. Her footsteps echoed and bounced off the walls, as she looked straight ahead but saw nothing. She could only her the sound of the soles of her shoes on the clean, shiny floor.. No distant laughter or conversations, like she was used to hearing. She wasn't surprised. It was about two hours past lunch, and she was sure they would all be up in their dormitories, doing God knows what. For Hermione, she had eaten a quick, nutriscious lunch, then headed up to the library; a place she knew she would be staying at constantly. For now, it was her place of solitude, although it didn't necessarily bring her any peace. The peace that she desperately needed, deep inside, anyway. It was quiet, and barely anyone was there, and she needed that, even if it did little. To be alone, the silence embracing her, deadening her nerves and senses. She liked how it was, sitting alone on the ground, her back against the sturdy bookcase, closing her eyes and surrendering herself to the blank emptiness and sinking feeling she felt inside of her. The floor would be cold at first, against her bare legs, and she'd feel an icy shiver trace up her spine, causing her to shudder. But after that.. She was gone. She had lost all feeling.

She didn't even go there to read anymore, just to get lost in the stillness that she couldn't have anywhere else in her life.

It was the atmosphere now, not the books filled with brilliant literature and information, that drew her to the place. Maybe once upon a time, she was addicted to the books, but so much had changed. She had changed. She wasn't as thirsty for schoolwork as she had been before. She had grown up, needless to say. Now, more than ever, a lot was on her mind. She couldn't get away from her thoughts, her conscience, and she could feel her mind throbbing with such impatience and demands whenever she was in such noisy places. She needed quiet, and here it was. She needed a place where she could honestly say as a fact no one favored, other than her. And here it was.

But most of all, she needed a place where she could get away from it all. From him. The boy who had managed to steal her heart, the boy who held her heart without having a clue. She didn't know if he would come in here, true. But she just needed somewhere to stay without seeing him, for now. She needed to sort out her thoughts, for they all had been scattered and dispersed.

But most of all, it was ironic. She had come here to get away from her problems, from him. Yet, all she could do here was think about him, and how he affected her in such a major way she could never have imagined. She forced herself not to think about him, of course, but what good does that ever do? She remembered getting so frustrated once, trying to figure out how to end it all. To end her endless trances that revolved around him, to end the avoidance and uneasiness when they were in the same room, or near each other. To end her restless nights, her dreams about the green eyed boy. To end her feelings for him, to end everything.

But how could she end everything? How could she confront all of them at the same time and make it? She didn't know.

She would have to talk to Harry. She couldn't face him. She would just break down, her tears spilling out, falling to her knees. For once, she was weak.

He was her weakness. He was where she just didn't know what to do. He was who she wanted to reach, but couldn't, and dreaded to come in contact with. He was who she would die for. He made her feel everything she hadn't felt before. He made her feel as if she was on the brink of everything, absolutely terrified, yet pleading to be taken away.

He was the boy she loved more than anything.

And how she wished it would just go away.

Hermione quietly said the password to the fat lady, and walked into the Gryffindor common room. Her eyes wandered the room, as she felt as if there was abrupt silence that suddenly filled the room. Her footing almost came to a halt when she realized who it was in the room. A pair of deep, emerald eyes stared at her, along with a pair of dark blue ones. She could feel the sudden intensity in the air, as she forced herself to look down and continue walking. Her legs felt weak, wobbly as if she hadn't walked on both her legs for years.

“Hermione,” she heard someone call out. Despite her will, her feet halted, stuck to the carpeted floor. She turned her head to look up, as she looked at her red haired friend, but felt her eyes wandering to Harry. She closed her eyes quickly, her heart beating loudly. Her vision concentrated on Ron.

“Where've you been? It's been two hours since lunch ended.” Hermione stared at him, and swallowed hard before speaking. Her thoughts were once again scattered, her nerves running around frantically, as she felt Harry's piercing green gaze on her. She kept telling herself to not look his way, for she could feel her eyes already being tempted to disobey.

“The library, that's all,” she said quietly, her voice a bit shaky. Ron searched her face, and took a glance at Harry, who was beside him, before returning to the brown haired girl.

“ Are you alright? You seem.. Off.” Hermione sighed, looking down.

“I'm fine,” she said, and she started to walk up to the girl's dormitories. But then Ron called out to her again, as she could feel her feet buzzing with such a numb feeling.

“Where were you yesterday? You were supposed to meet up with us, remember?” He asked her, his voice echoing and banging in her mind.

She could still feel Harry's gaze on her.

She sighed. “I was busy,” she said, before hurrying into the girl's dormitories.

Harry watched the door close behind her, and ran a hand through his raven hair, his gaze still lingering on the door. She had looked so tense, so nervous. Solemn, even. So this was what he did to her. This was how he made her feel. Somehow, he wanted to march up there and force her to listen to him. He would tell her what she did to him, how she distracted him so much and so easily, how much he thought of her each second of everyday. How much sleep he had lost, her brown, sorrowful eyes always managing to invade his weary mind. He wanted her to hear him out, to understand, to comprehend what she made him feel. And maybe, even, after explaining, letting out all his frustration and thoughts and feelings, he would kiss her.

And he hoped, maybe, she would kiss him back, without hesitation and resistance. That she would pull him closer still, just as before, but without any interference of any kind. He could feel his hands almost trembling, as he remembered how soft she had felt, how warm his hands had felt, caressing her small and slender frame. And how her soft lips seemed to feel so heavenly against his, how sweet and saccharine her mouth tasted.

How perfectly they seemed to fit together, somehow making them both realize that they were truly meant for each other.

Harry sighed, as he returned to the chess game he and Ron had been in before the pretty brown haired Gryffindor girl had walked in, and flung his concentration out the window.

If only he could tell her he loved her.

If only she would let him.

If only she could let herself believe it.

Abundant Skies

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, just the plot.

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thanks for the reviews!

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Chapter Thirteen: Angry Confession

Hermione sat down on the floor, her legs spread out in front of her. She held a slightly tattered faded red book in her hands, as she bit her lip, trying to understand what the author was trying to say. After a few minutes of contemplating, she sighed, as she marked her page and put the book down beside her. She was in the library again, her legs pressed against the chilly floor. She sat down in the very last of the bookshelves, where there were no portraits, just books that were mostly old and worn out; the ones that no body bothered to pay any attention to. It was quiet, not a single sound in the room besides her soft, and shallow breathing. She closed her eyes, as she felt the pressure slowly subside in them. She rubbed them; she knew she should've stopped reading hours ago, but she didn't, insisting she keep on until she finally understood what the author was trying to tell her through the book. But so far, even with her aching eyes, and weary mind, it was still fuzzy. The book skipped from topic to topic, leaving her confused and irritated. She sighed, as she covered her face with her hands, trying to soothe her tired eyes.

It was about half an hour until dinner, and she had been here since lunch had ended. She was drained, and her back ached from the firm, but not so comfortable bookcase she leaned against. She lowered her hands, as she stared on the bookshelf she faced, the multicolored but faded sides of the books staring at her.

It had been a week since Ron had asked her about why she hadn't met up with them last weekend. She felt bad, she really did, but she couldn't do anything about it. She was talking to Ron, sitting with him sometimes, but sitting with Lavender usually. She only talked to Harry when it was necessary, and looked away every time he looked up at her. Maybe other people thought she was being cruel, or hostile, but it was for the best. Even if it hurt terribly.

Harry had tried talking to her, all through the week. It was about common stuff, usually, their assignments, and books she recommended for him, which was odd. She usually just had a stiff, and short reply, and hurrying off before he could ask her any more questions. She knew that wasn't what he truly wanted to ask her, and that he couldn't be any less interested in what books she would recommend to him. She knew he would bring up the painful subject, when they were alone, although she tried to make sure that would never happen. She didn't want to talk about it. It was as simple as that. He should've figured it out by now. But he was still trying to get through to her, as if there was still some hope that he was holding onto.

And that left her even more confused each second she thought about it.

She remembered when he had asked her if she loved him, and the way her throat had closed up but her heart screaming out `I do! I do!' so loudly and defiantly. She remembered feeling as if everything had stopped; the world, time.. Her heart pumping blood into her veins. Everything had been completely frozen, his emerald eyes so determined, and hopeful, slightly sad. She hadn't known what to make of it. Now she just didn't want to make it what her heart told her it was. She was being stubborn, but she didn't care. Because somehow, she could feel it being beaten little by little…

Until that barricade she had for so long would finally crumble down. And she would have nothing to hold on to when she would tell herself that it was all just a mistake.

She was scared. Terrified out of her wits. She didn't know loving someone so much could drive her to be like this, to be feeling such intense emotions that she couldn't control even if she tried. She knew the truth.. She was afraid of loving him so much, she was afraid of that look in his eyes.. She was afraid of the way his eyes looked so hopeful, and eager when he asked her if she loved him..

She was afraid of the possible fact that he could love her.

Because it just didn't match up. No, not to her. He was Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the boy many girls had their hearts set on getting in the Wizarding world. He was handsome, kind hearted, brave, legendary. He was Harry Potter. How could he fall in love with her, much less love her, Hermione Granger? The girl who practically lived in the library? It didn't make sense. It didn't, no matter how many times she analyzed it.

But deep down, she knew that it just didn't make sense because she didn't want it to.

But it was getting so hard.. She would give in. Would she? She was afraid of heartbreak, that she would endure afterwards. She could almost feel it, see it, in her mind. She could feel herself cringe, wince, as she could almost hear the echoing split of her heart, it being shattered…

She was afraid that he could love her the way she loved him, because that only left room for that scarring heartbreak. And she knew that, no matter how hard she tried to imagine the pain, the searing and splintering crack and fall, it couldn't be compared to the real thing. The real heartbreak. No one can explain it, tell it like a story. It was something that had to be felt, to be experienced. Imagining couldn't even come a little bit close.

She sighed, as she closed her eyes momentarily and gathered a ragged sigh, opening her eyes again and getting up. She brushed off her clothes, and picked up the book that she had put down on the floor. She stared at it, frowning slightly, as she flipped through the pages, finally deciding to return it. She got out of her secret spot, and scanned the book sides, eager to return the book in its right spot. She sighed, as she went to the next bookshelf, mentally lecturing herself for not remembering where she had found it. Suddenly, she heard a voice, the voice that haunted her dreams, the voice that she was determined to make fade in her ears, but still rang defiantly.

“Hermione?” She turned, and suddenly found her knees weak. Harry was there, his hand on the bookcase, looking at her intently.

“Harry,” she said, in a whisper. She sighed, and closed her eyes for a second, trying to compose herself, before turning back to the bookshelf. She was silent, as she fumbled with the books, scanning for the right place.

Harry watched her, and recognized the way she avoided looking at him. Just then she strode out and went to the next bookshelf. Harry followed.

Hermione noticed that he had followed her, and was slightly panicking. They were alone.. She had to get out of here, she just had to. Finally, giving up, she just pushed the book in a random place, and sighed. She turned and brushed past Harry, but he caught her arm, and she turned around, her eyes pleading for him to let her go. He stepped closer, so that their faces were only inches, her heart hammering in her chest. His hand on her arm sent fiery tingles through her body, her arm feeling numb with hums and embers his touch sent throughout her. She could feel her knees buckle, a warm, melting sensation filling her stomach.

“Hermione,” he said to her, as low as a whisper. She looked into his eyes, terrified of what he might do, what he might say. She tried hard to swallow, but with his eyes looking into hers so deeply, it came with too much difficulty.

“Harry, please.. Let me go,” she said, almost inaudible. She was screaming at herself to run, to jerk away from his grasp, and bolt out from the library. But she couldn't. It felt as if her feet were rooted into the ground, and his hand on her arm did nothing to urge her to move away. She was lost in his eyes, the deep pools of emerald that she knew she could stare into forever. She didn't know if he could see how she felt for him, or what she felt for him, but the thought made her crash back into reality, turning her gaze abruptly to the floor. She suddenly became aware of their closeness, and tried backing away, but she could still feel his gaze, watching her.

“Hermione.. It doesn't have to be like this,” he said. Hermione looked up at him, trying to make her expression as blank as possible.

“What do you mean?” She asked him, her voice soft.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You're being difficult.” Hermione stayed silent, trying to think of what to say. She was afraid of this. Afraid of him catching her alone, and trying to talk to her about it. She tried to look at anything but him.

“I know you're avoiding me. I'm not a dimwit,” he said to her. Hermione sighed, as she tried to walk past him, but he blocked her way.

“Hermione-“

“-Harry, don't,” she said, cutting him off. “Please, “ she pleaded. “Please don't make this..”

“Don't make this what? Don't make it what it already is?” She turned away.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Why not?” He demanded. “We have to talk about it, sooner or later. You can't avoid the subject forever.”

“How do you know?” She suddenly snapped. “All these days, I've known that I-“ she halted, suddenly, as she realized what she was about to say. She had been just about to tell him that she loved him.

“You've known that you what?” Harry asked, eager to know what she was so determined to keep to herself, noticing she had just blurted it out, from the look on her face.

“Nothing,” she said.

“Hermione, I want you to stop being so stubborn.”

“Harry,” she said, trying to walk away again, but once again her attempt was blocked.

“What happened, in the common room,” he said, “it wasn't a mistake. It was anything but a mistake. I meant to kiss you, Hermione-“

“Harry, STOP!” she suddenly shouted. “Just stop it!” She looked into his eyes, begging him to just leave it be.

“Please,” she said, her voice wavering as if she was about to burst into tears. “Just please. I don't want to hear it.”

“Why? Why are you so determined to forget it?”

“Because it wasn't supposed to happen,” she said, her eyes becoming glossy. “We're friends. Friends. Do you know what that means? Nothing is supposed to happen. Nothing.”

“That's not true.”

“Just.. Let it go, Harry. Let me go.” He stared into her eyes, beseeching for her to just understand.

“No. You're running away, afraid of being stuck in the same bloody room as I am, because you want to forget that it ever happened,” he said angrily. “The Hermione I know would never run away, even at such circumstances as this.” Hermione's eyes flickered with anger, as she jerked her arm away.

“Who is the Hermione you know, Harry?” She asked him, seething. “How this she feel about this situation? What would she say?”

“She wouldn't be afraid.”

“And WHAT?” She yelled, “What could I possibly be afraid of?”

“Risk.”

“Risk? You think I'm afraid of risk?” Her brown eyes were dark with rage, as she watched him, waiting for an answer. He never gave her one. She pushed past him, but he grabbed her arm again, and she spun around, absolutely livid.

“Why are you walking away? Why do you keep walking away from me?”

“You want to know why I've been avoiding you, Harry?” She yelled, absolutely losing all of her control over herself. “Do you want to know why I've been hurrying our conversations, or making sure we're never alone together? Because I'm terrified. I am bloody terrified. You know why? Because I love you. And I'm scared because I love you so much that it hurts, and I can't take it. I'm scared of loving you so much, because it leaves everything in ruins, it leaves me confused, not having a bloody clue on what I should do.” Her eyes stung with tears, as Harry stared at her, absolutely speechless.

“There's your answer, Harry,” she said, her voice wavering and breaking, a tear rolling down her cheek. She felt as if her knees were weak and feeble, her lungs feeling as if they were about to burst, her heart splitting into two. She looked at him one last time, although her vision was blurry, before she ran past him and out the library, ignoring his calls.

Harry stared after her, before letting out a ragged breath, running a hand through his messy hair. He was in complete shock, stunned by her words. They echoed through his head, chimed loudly in his ears. His heart hammered in his chest, feeling light-headed as if he were in a dreamlike trance.

He couldn't believe it.

She loved him.

Abundant Skies

Disclaimer: don't own the characters, just the plot.

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Thank you for the reviews! Quite most of you said it was about time, and that you were glad she finally confessed.. I agree. But you guys thought Harry was going to confess first, didn't you? Well.. We'll just see what happens, because I don't really have a clue, either. After this, or tomorrow's update, It might be a long time before I update again; it all depends on how long my parents ground me from the computer for my `horrible' grades.. It's only for Algebra, and you'd think they'd cut me some slack since I have to move up one grade for math, on which, I have no idea why and how. But, wish me the best of luck it's only going to be for a week, or, for those who can, pray that I'll be able to update again within one week.. I'd really appreciate it.

So, I hope you enjoy.. And wish me the best of luck/pray that I won't be grounded for too long!

And, I'm sorry if I got any names, or anything else wrong here.. Fred is with Angelina, right? Anyway, if it's supposed to be George, then I am sorry. I'm not all that accurate on that stuff..

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Chapter Fourteen: Horror

Harry went to dinner, still absolutely shocked and stunned.. She loved him.. She loved him.. No matter how many times it rang in his mind, he still couldn't believe it. But he felt some sort of restless, rising, warm feeling in his stomach that made him grin unusually; like a madman.

She loved him. A lot.

He didn't think that he'd ever hear her say those words to him, besides the `friendly' way, because they really did love each other, he was sure, in that way. But he was still finding it hard to believe, although he was also ridiculously glad and happy that she did love him, and from the choice of words she used, a whole heck of a lot. Maybe as much as he loved her, he considered. But then it dawned on him that she was still angry with him, and was obviously not going to talk to him. That sort of dampened his spirits. If she wasn't going to listen, how was he going to tell her that he loved her too? How could he reach through her sheer determination to believe that it was all some spur of the moment mistake, and make her understand he meant that kiss more than anything in the world?

How could he possibly tell her that he loved her, and make sure she wasn't going to find a way that he didn't mean it? He was still figuring that part out.

At dinner, he played with his food, sliding it from side to side, trying to come up with some sort of plan, while Ron and Dean talked animatedly about their new tactics for Quidditch. He stayed silent, trying to concentrate, until Ron elbowed him in the rib, and made him look up, scowling.

“What's the matter with you?”

“Apparently, someone elbowed me in the rib,” Harry said, angrily.

Ron raised an eyebrow at him. “No, I mean that I've been calling your name about ten times to tell us what new strategies you've come up for Quidditch. You have got some new ones, don't you?”

“No.”

Ron cast a look at Dean, before he leaned in closer, so that only Harry could hear him. “What's wrong, Harry? You daydreaming a little bit too much, don't you think?”

Harry glared at him. “I'm not daydreaming, Ron. I'm just thinking, that's all.”

“Thinking? What about?”

“Nothing.”

“You seem to be thinking pretty hard for it to be about nothing.” Harry sighed, as he looked down on his plate.

“It's Hermione,” he said lowly.

Ron clicked his tongue, as he poured himself some pumpkin juice. “Yeah, something peculiar's up with her. But I mean, who wouldn't be, with you kissing her and all, and getting caught.”

Harry scowled at him. “Well, gee. Thanks.”

Ron grinned widely. “Harry, you know I'm just kidding. But did you try talking to her? Apologize, maybe?”

“I did try talking to her.. She still didn't want to listen. You know she hasn't been the same, since last week.” Harry decided he wasn't even going to say anything about the `apologize, maybe?' comment.

“Well.. She's avoiding you for so long too many times, I don't even notice when she's stopped and started again.”

Harry gave him a look, and Ron laughed lightly. “Alright, sorry. I got to learn how to stop making jokes about you and Hermione..”

Harry stayed quiet, just looking down on his plate. “She never sits with us anymore, if she even comes down for meals.. She avoids me, she doesn't even want to look at me, if she can even bear to,” he sighed. “It's hard to believe she loves me. But then again, I never did try hard enough when I asked her what was on her mind. If I hadn't been so blind, then maybe I would've seen it, or gotten suspicious. But no, I was too worried about myself.”

Ron raised an eyebrow at him. “So she told you?” Harry looked at him.

“You mean to tell me that you knew?” Ron shrugged.

“I've had my suspicions, you know. I mean, I noticed you two seemed to always spend time together in the common room, the way she always looked at you, and then looks away when you look up.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Harry asked him, angry.

“It was never a sure thing!” Ron exclaimed. “I mean, I always thought you liked Hermione, because, like what I noticed from her, you looked at her like..” Ron made a face. “Like when Fred looks at Angelina when she comes over to the house in the summer.”

“You still could've told me!” Harry cried. “Great. So it seems even you and probably everyone else sees the way I look at her, and the way she looks at me.. How come I've never noticed? How come I've never seen the way she looks at me?”

“Well, for one thing,” Ron said, “she always looks away when you look up, I told you that. And another thing,” Ron's features softened.

“Well, I guess you were so in love with her you didn't see that she was in love with you too. Maybe you thought it could never happen, that it wasn't possible.. But I think it's the same with Hermione. She doesn't believe that you could actually fall in love with her, let alone love her. She doesn't want to get her hopes up,” Ron said.

Harry sighed, as he ran a hand through his messy, untamed hair. “I guess you're right.”

“I may be a dimwit at some things, Harry,” Ron said. “But even the daftest person knows a thing or two about love.”

Harry smiled at Ron, faintly, then looked down at his plate. He stood up.

“I'm going to see if I can still catch her,” he said, before grinning at Ron.

“Thanks,” he said to him, before running out of the Great Hall. Ron smiled to himself, as he folded his arms over his chest. He cast a look at Lavender, who was smiling at him; so she had been watching all along.

He grinned at her, and mouthed `I told you so.' Lavender, unable to fake a defeated look on her face, just laughed lightly, as she smiled widely at him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry ran down the corridor, and up the stairs for the Gryffindor dormitories. He panted hard, as the Fat Lady asked for the password.

“Mad Manticore,” Harry said, breathlessly.

“Excuse me?” The Fat Lady asked.

“Mad Manticore,” Harry said louder, and the Fat Lady smiled, pleased, as the portrait entrance swung open. Harry walked into the common room, and looked around; she wasn't there. Suddenly, he saw something on the floor; like a big, large heap. Something flashed in his mind, as he bolted to the end of the stairs, where it was.

He forgot about how fast he had been running, or the fact that his lungs were still desperate for air. He had forgotten about breathing at all. His heart pounded in his chest loudly, his blood rushing in his ears.

“Oh my..” He quickly kneeled down, and held her. He cried out, feeling panic and worry, and shock, penetrate through his body. He held Hermione in his arms, her eyes closed, a deep cut on her forehead, above her eye. A stream of blood trickled down from her wound, as Harry felt his hands trembling, wrapped around her small, slender body. He held her tightly, his throat feeling as if it had closed up, his chest compressed with such a strong, and tight bind that prevented him from breathing right.

“Hermione?” He said. “Hermione? Hermione? Please..” She didn't answer, as she just lay limp in his arms. He looked at the stairs, and saw about five different books scattered on the steps. He inhaled sharply, as he looked at her, and checked for a pulse. It was weak, and he could feel his heart throbbing, hammering. He quickly picked her up in his arms, feeling limp and light. He ran out of the common room, and down the hall as fast as he could, even pushing himself to go faster, when he realized she could die if he didn't get her to Madame Pomphrey soon. His footsteps were rapid and echoed through the halls, his breathing hard, his lungs and stomach aching.

He bolted into the Great Hall, causing everyone to look at him. Everyone stared in horror at who was in his arms.

“Help! I need help!” He yelled loudly, panic causing his voice to echo and a sudden deafly silence plagued the room, as he felt everyone's eyes on him.. And the unconscious Hermione in his arms. Professor Dumbledore stood up abruptly, as did the other Professors, as Madame Pomphrey rushed over to him.

“Come along Mr. Potter,” she said, panic in her voice, her gaze roaming Hermione in a flickering and anxious, worried manner. Harry rushed outside, as he struggled to keep up with Madame Pomphrey. Though a petite and small woman, she walked pretty fast.

She raised her gaze to him. “Mr. Potter, I could perform a spell so that you wouldn't have to-“

“No, I want to hold her,” he interrupted. He felt his grip tighten on Hermione. Madame Pomphrey sighed, as her strides became faster.

“Well, alright then, hurry up.”

Suddenly Harry heard a shout from behind him. Soon Ron was at his side, panic, shock, and horror etched across his face.

“What happened? How-Hermione-what-“

“I'll tell you later,” Harry said hurriedly, advancing into a jog. “I've got to get her to the Hospital Wing.” Ron nodded, as he followed after him.

+++++++++++++

Harry and Ron watched anxiously as Madame Pomphrey worked on Hermione, setting out different colored bottles; blue ones, clear ones, ancient looking ones. Harry could barely keep still, his lungs still feeling as if they were about to burst. Finally, after long minutes that seemed to be forever, Madame Pomphrey sighed, as she poured some blue looking liquid into her mouth, then massaged Hermione's throat to make her swallow. She pulled back, and capped the bottle. She looked at Hermione, then back at Harry and Ron.

“She'll be fine, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley,” she said. Two loud sighs of relief suddenly filled the room. “She's just unconscious, for now.”

“How long will it be before she wakes up?” Harry asked.

“One day, at most,” she said. “She had a pretty bad wound on her head, as small as it seems,” she motioned over to Hermione. “My guess is, from Mr. Potter's explanation of where he found her, that she fell down the stairs, hitting her head brutally.”

Harry pursed his lips together, as he nodded. He cast a look over at Hermione, before looking back at Madame Pomphrey.

“Thank you,” he said. She nodded, as she picked up the bottles she had taken out.

“It was no problem Mr. Potter,” she said. “It's my job. But please do tell Ms. Granger to be more careful going down the stairs. And, since tomorrow is the weekend, and you have no classes.. I'll allow you to stay here until she wakes up. But don't cause any trouble or I'll have to throw you out.”

Ron smiled faintly. “Alright then,” he said, as she walked back into her office.

Harry got a seat and dragged it over to Hermione's bedside, as Ron did the same. Harry sighed, watching her. Most of the fear and panic he had been feeling earlier had faded, replaced with relief, but he still felt a nagging, twisting feeling in his gut that seemed to be cutting in deeper every second that passed by. Harry held Hermione's hand, which felt warm, but it felt lifeless, limp. Even a little cold, compared to his hands, which seemed to be burning with heat.

“So that's where you found her, really?” Ron asked. “The end of the stairs?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Her books were scattered all over the steps, so she probably fell, like what Madame Pomphrey said.” Ron nodded, silent.

“It was good you came, to get her to the Hospital Wing in time,” he said.

Harry shook his head, his eyes sad and full of regret.

“I didn't come in time. I didn't come soon enough. I could've stopped her from falling. I could've just come to talk to her, instead of coming down to dinner.”

“You didn't know.”

“I should've!” Harry cried angrily.

“You can't have, Harry,” Ron insisted. “Stop blaming yourself. It was nobody's fault. She's going to be fine, you heard Madame Pomphrey.”

Harry sighed, as he dug his head in his hands. “I was going to tell her. I was going to make her listen.”

“You can tell her when she wakes up.”

“She won't listen,” Harry said, frustrated. “She'll find some way to say that I was just saying it because I feel that I'm obligated to, or that I didn't mean it.”

“How do you know? You haven't told her yet.” Harry stayed silent, as he looked back up at Hermione. It felt weird, looking at her, unconscious and when she wasn't.. When she didn't have a clue what was going on. But she still managed to look beautiful, in his eyes. She didn't even have to try.

“Are you going to head up later?” Ron asked. Harry shook his head.

“No, I'm going to stay.” Ron nodded.

“Do you want me to come and bring you up breakfast?”

“I don't think I'll be hungry,” Harry said. “But bring some for Hermione.”

++++++++++++++++++

After a few hours, Harry noticed Ron was getting weary of watching her, his head drooping and then abruptly bolting back up.

“Ron, you can head up and get some sleep,” Harry told him.

“No, I can stay. I'm not sleepy.” Harry grinned at him, faintly.

“Go. Don't make me make you.” Ron yawned, as he stood up.

“Are you sure? What about you?”

“I'm sure,” Harry said. “And don't worry about me. I'll be fine.” Ron nodded lazily, then started towards the door.

“Night Harry, I'll come back in the morning.”

“Night Ron,” Harry said, before he heard the door open and close. Silence filled the room, as the darkness shaded Hermione's still face. His hand tightened around hers, as he watched her. His mind was empty, but was full of thoughts about the pretty girl he was watching.

“Goodnight, Hermione,” he whispered. He smiled faintly, as he heard light drops of rain tapping against the window. He placed his other hand over hers.

“I love you, too.”

Abundant Skies

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, just the plot.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Well.. This chapter is for my parents. I'm sorry if I'm going to let you down tomorrow.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Chapter Fifteen: Awake

Hermione stirred, as she shifted on the bed. She opened her eyes, slowly, and was confused at where she was. She quickly sat up, but regretted that, as her back felt stiff and ached. The room seemed to swirl and spin, as she put a hand on her forehead. There was a pounding, throbbing ache in her head, as she blinked furiously, trying to get used to the dark. The moon shone outside, and the moonlight spilled across her legs, giving her some light to see exactly where she was. She looked around; windows, beds.. She was in the Hospital Wing. She swallowed hard, as she felt her throat was dry and dehydrated. Her eyes roamed across the big room, until they settled on something, or someone by her bedside. She squinted hard, and then the sleeping person shifted, and she felt her heart stop at who it was.

It was Harry.

Even in the dark she could recognize his raven, untamed hair. She heard a sigh escape his lips, and she watched him, intently. He seemed so peaceful, so quiet in his sleep. She could feel a faint smile spread across her face, just watching him, his head on his arms. She couldn't believe that he had stayed.. With her. In the Hospital Wing. Just then he shifted again, and she felt something warm rest atop of her hand, and hold tight. She looked down, and saw that it was his hand, his fingers entwined around hers. Her hand and fingers tingled pleasantly, like a frosty warmth that spread through her skin. She stared at their hands.. His hand holding hers.. She couldn't help but feel something fill her; like a glowing white light that scarred her pleasingly. She felt a tugging rip of regret pull at the end of her heart, as she noticed how perfect their hands seemed to fit.. How right it seemed to feel. She looked away, guilt running through her veins for feeling this way.. For letting her gaze linger for far too long. He knew. She had told him.

She couldn't face him. But here he was, holding her hand, spending the night at the Hospital Wing.. For her. To be there when she wakes up. And she didn't even think she could bear to say utter any words to him, let alone say thank you. She didn't know if she could look into his eyes, and see that he had the knowledge of her feelings for him.. She didn't want to know his reaction. She didn't want to break down and cry in front him again.. It was too much. She couldn't handle it. She was weak. But she didn't care.

She sighed, as she leaned back down on her back, the cold cotton sheets chilling her skin. She stared up at the ceiling, her hand still in Harry's. She could hear his soft, shallow breaths, and all she could wish for was that she could face him tomorrow.. Or in a few hours. At least she had told him that she had loved him, but that brought little reassurance to her whatsoever. She closed her eyes, as the blackest darkness invaded her. Her heartbeats began to slow into a steady beat, as she felt weariness cover her.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered what it would feel like to feel his lips against hers again.. If he would taste just as sweet, or even better. She wondered how it would feel to always be in his arms, to always feel his fingers entwine with hers. She wondered how it would feel to hear him tell her that he loved her..

She wondered how different things would be if she knew that he loved her as much as she loved him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry shifted, before opening his eyes. He looked up, as he yawned, at Hermione. He was quite disappointed to see that she hadn't awoken yet. But then, he looked down, and noticed that her fingers were wrapped around his, and he could feel his heart's stable beat slowly become faster. He let go of her hand, as he rubbed his eyes, and stood up. He headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

He came back, feeling less sleepy, as he held her hand again. He watched her, intently, as she breathed softly and shallowly, her eyes remaining closed. His gaze traveled to the window, and saw that the sky was as blue as ever, clear and bright. He stared, letting the blueness and peacefulness seep into him.

He found himself asking what he would say to her once she was awake. `Good morning,' maybe? But how would he bring up the fact that she loved him? How could he make her listen?

`If she really does love you as much as she says she does, then she'll listen to you,' his heart told him. He agreed, but his mind was still filled with worry. What if she didn't listen? What would he do then?

Suddenly he felt her hand move inside his. He snapped out of his daze and watched her, as she stirred and the cotton sheets rustled. He let go of her hand, slowly, as her eyes fluttered open. She rubbed both her eyes, before yawning; he wasn't sure if she had seen him yet.

Suddenly, she sat up, and looked straight at him. He was surprised to see that there wasn't even a hint of surprise in her eyes, but slight sadness, and regret. He smiled at her warmly.

“Good morning,” he said to her. He watched her as she reached over and grabbed the water filled glass that Madame Pomphrey had set down on the tableside. She raised it to her lips, and drank, until she set it back down on the table, and looked at him. Her eyes were dark, and he was saddened that he couldn't read them as easily as before. It was as if she had set up some shield, or barricade that prevented him from seeing her feelings.

“Good morning,” she said softly. She didn't smile at him, but her gaze remained unwavering. “What happened?” She asked, obviously confused as to why she had woken up in the Hospital Wing.

“You.. You fell down the stairs, when you were carrying your books,” he said. “I found you, last night during dinner, and you were unconscious.. So I brought you here.”

Hermione stayed quiet, before she looked away. “Oh,” she said quietly, finally finding out why her body and head ached so much. Harry watched her, his green gaze still and calm.

“You scared me to death,” he whispered. “I found myself worrying, and panicking terribly.. Both Ron and me. We weren't sure if you were going to be okay.” Finally, she looked at him, her brown eyes sad and pleading.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For bringing me up here.. For worrying like you did. I'm sorry I scared you.”

He smiled at her. “I would never forgive myself if I let something happen to you.. You know that.” Hermione looked down again.

“I'm so glad you're okay,” Harry chuckled lightly, but Hermione avoided his gaze. She felt uneasy, him bringing up such sensitive topics that she wouldn't have a say in. That she didn't want to have a say in. There was a momentary silence as Harry sighed, and he ran a hand through his hair.

“I know what you're thinking,” he said to her. “I know that you don't like that I'm here, and that you don't like the fact that.. I'm here talking to you. I know you don't want to talk to me, or listen, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I hurt you, these past days, to make you avoid me, or make you sad when you think of me.”

He looked at her, his eyes pleading. “But you can't blame me for wanting to talk to you, for wanting to know. And I'm not sorry for that. I'm not sorry for wanting to know how you feel. I'm not sorry at all.” Hermione lay silent, her gaze still on the snow white sheets. She felt her eyes brim with tears, but struggled to keep them inside. She could feel her lungs burning as if they were going to burst, her heart breaking inside. Her heart told her to look up, to say something. But she couldn't bring herself to. She swallowed hard, her hands clenched into fists, a handful of the cotton fabric.

“Hermione,” he whispered. “Please say something. Anything.” Suddenly she looked up, and met his hopeful, sad, earnest emerald gaze. She felt as if the awfully tight bind wrapped around her chest was going to snap any minute now, her hands trembling, shaking.

“Harry,” she whispered. “I-” Just then the doors opened, and Hermione froze. Harry heard a familiar voice, and footsteps, as he looked at her sadly. Ron appeared at the foot of her bed, with a plate of food. He smiled widely as soon as he saw that she was awake, and set the plate down on her side table.

“Welcome back, Hermione,” he grinned at her. She tried to smile back at him, and did, but it was a strained, and fake sort of smile. Ron turned back to Harry, as she looked down, disappointedly and solemnly. She could still feel Harry's eyes on her, but she felt no need to meet his gaze again.

“You're sure you're not hungry?” Ron asked Harry, sitting down beside him. Harry sighed, finally letting his eyes wander to Ron.

“I'm sure.” He turned to Hermione. “Hermione, are you hungry?”

“No,” she said quietly, still looking down. Harry felt something build up inside him; disappointment, frustration, sadness.. What was going to happen when he's finally had enough? What would he say?

“Hermione, you should really be careful next time you go down the stairs,” Ron said. “You knocked yourself out. We were scared that you were dead.” Hermione said nothing as she just reached for the glass again and drank from it. Ron cast a puzzled look at Hermione, then Harry.

“What happened?” Ron asked. He looked at Harry. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Yes,“ Harry said, at the same time as Hermione said `no.' Ron looked at both of them, confused. Ron stood up, as Hermione pleaded at him, mentally.

“Well, then.. It seems something of a serious matter,” Ron said. “So I'll be going. I'll see you two later,” he said. “And Hermione, please do be careful on those stairs.” And with that, he left, ignoring Hermione's calls for him to come back. Harry stared at her, slightly annoyed.

“Why did you tell him to leave?” Hermione asked Harry, also irritated by their best friend's departure.

“I told him the truth,” Harry said.

“You didn't have to make him leave.”

“I didn't make him leave, he chose to leave.” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Hermione, he asked if he had interrupted something, I told him `yes, he had.' Because he had interrupted something.”

Hermione had a faint scowl on her face, as she looked away.

“He didn't interrupt anything,” she said.

“Hermione, don't do this,” he said to her.

She looked up at him, slightly glaring. “Don't do what, Harry?”

“This,” he said, frustrated. “Pretending that you don't know what I'm talking about, denying what happened, lying to me. Lying to yourself. Don't do that. I just want you to listen to me, to try and understand. And to tell me the truth.” She stared at him, silent.

“I'm trying. I try to, Harry, believe me.. But, it's just.. I can't,” she said, her voice almost breaking.

“Why?” He asked her. She turned away, not answering, her eyes closed. He sighed.

“I just.. I just want to know the truth.” He leaned in closer, and caught her hand. Her eyes opened, and fell immediately into his gaze. Her heart pounded in her chest, the butterflies returning and bouncing off her insides.

“Did you mean it?” He asked her, his eyes pleading. “Do you really love me?”

Hermione's eyes brimmed with tears. “Yes,” she said, her voice breaking. She inhaled sharply, as she looked down, a tear sliding down her cheek. Harry felt a smile spread across his face, as he stood up and walked closer to her. Hermione's eyes followed him, as he smiled at her, his eyes sparkling. Harry raised his hands, and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze, framing her face. Hermione felt her heart beating faster and faster, as if it were to jump out to meet him. His warm, gentle hands caressed her face, as his eyes bore into her. Her skin seemed to be burning, invisibly marring from his touch. He kneeled down, so that their gazes were level, his emerald eyes twinkling happily. Hermione felt confusion erupt inside her, as did fear. His face was so close, his breath feeling warm but frosty against her skin. His thumb swiped across her cheek slowly, wiping away her tears.

“I meant it, Hermione,” he whispered to her. His eyes were honest, warm, happy. “I meant that kiss more than anything in the world, except-“ he paused, as he grinned at her.

“-except that I love you too.” And his lips crashed into hers, as Hermione felt her heart stop. His mouth molded against hers, as she felt explosions and bursts inside of her. Embers, flashes, and crackles of intense electricity buzzed through her veins, her blood roaring in her ears. She felt her hands rise up and wrap around his neck, before traveling up and entangling themselves in his messy hair. She parted her lips, as his tongue entered and danced with hers, her kissing him back fervently. He tasted sweet, unlike anything she had ever tasted, as she felt her world fade.. And soon she had forgotten they were in the Hospital Wing, much less anywhere else.

So this was what it felt like.

This was what it felt like to kiss someone you loved so much, too much.

And knowing he loved you too, just the same.