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| PG-13 - English - Romance/Angst - Reviews: 14 - Published: 09-06-03 - Updated:
03-14-04 |
id:1509989 |
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document.write(''); Hermione could not help but feel a bit overwhelmed as she scanned
her gaze over the crowded room. These people were all here to see her, to welcome her back from the
dead. There was really no preparation for this sort of thing.
Flanking her left side, Ron turned to her and grinned. “ Bet you never realized you were so
popular,” he pointed out.
“ I never WAS so popular,” Hermione reminded him. “ I think these people only showed up to see if
this was all an elaborate hoax.”
Draco turned to her from her right side. “ Don’t sell yourself short, Granger,” he advised, “ more
often than not, you were the topic of discussion in the Slytherin Quidditch team locker room.
Especially seventh year when you started to outgrow your robes and they began to...ur...stretch in
certain places...”
Ron whipped around to face him, eyes murderous. “ Why you little, slimy snake--”
Hermione placed a restraining hand on his arm. “ Relax, Ron. He’s only joking.” She glanced at
Draco. “ I hope...”
At that moment, everyone in the room seemed to collectively notice their presence, and so—decidedly
uncomfortable with the attention—Hermione started down the stairs with Ron and Draco. There had
been quite a big fuss about who would be her official date for the evening; Harry was with Ginny,
of course, so he was out of the running. Yet though Ron had not shown any romantic inkling toward
Hermione for the past few years, he positively loathed the idea of Draco taking Hermione, which of
course made Draco want to do it all the more. And since Draco and Ron had never much been renowned
for their skills in compromising, Hermione was attending the party with two escorts.
And handsome escorts they were. Ron, who was finally beginning to outgrow his gangly awkwardness,
was quite handsome in his dress robes of deep blue. Not one to be outdone, Draco had managed to
find a pair of silver-tinted robes that accented the silky smoothness of his own silvery hair. Of
course, Hermione thought a tad bit wistfully, neither one could really replace—
“ Harry!” she said brightly upon spotting him from behind. He turned to face her, and she managed
barely to refrain from emitting a little gasp at the sight of him. Her dear friend Harry, who had
never come close to making Wizard Magazine’s Best Dressed List, was wearing robes of deep green
that perfectly matched his trademark eyes, making them look absolutely brilliant. The robes hung
about his tall athletic frame, hinting at the strength that dwelt beneath.
Draco was watching her out of the corner of his eye, Hermione knew, so she smiled and pretended not
to feel the usual pang that began in her heart and spread downward toward the lower portion of her
pancreas at the sight of Harry. “ You look quite nice tonight, Harry,” she complimented in a
neutral voice.
Harry flushed ever so slightly, or maybe that was just wishful thinking. “ Thanks, Hermione. You
look nice, too.”
Hermione felt her own blush rising as she glanced down at the meticulously chosen robes. They were
a deep red, gently form-fitting, and she could remember distinctly that when she bought them, she
had been thinking of a certain green-eyed, Quidditch playing, lightning branded friend of
hers.
“ Thanks,” Hermione began. “ I didn’t know quite what to...”
Her voice drifted off as Ginny approached, absolutely stunning in her lavender gowns. Hermione felt
the color drain from her face. How could she have been so ridiculous as to think that she actually
looked nice when there were people like Ginny Weasley? She suddenly felt utterly ridiculous.
Gently, Draco took Hermione’s hand and gave it a gentle, supportive squeeze. Despite the fact that
it was meant to comfort her, Hermione felt her eyes sting at the gesture.
Oblivious to the entire exchange, Ron glanced about the crowd. “ Well, how’s this thing going to
run, then? Is there going to be an announcement or something?”
As if on cue, Dumbledore stepped to the front of the room and cleared his throat. It was a rather
quiet noise, but still he managed to garner everyone’s attention. All eyes turned toward him
expectantly.
“ Hello, and welcome,” he murmured, “ Tonight we celebrate the return of one of Hogwarts’ favorite
students.”
Hermione blushed as the attention turned toward her. She glanced instinctively toward Harry and was
surprised to see that he was one of the few people not boring his eyes into her face; rather, his
gaze was fixed rather steadfastly on her hand, intertwined with Draco’s. Quickly, she released
Draco’s hand and turned her gaze toward Dumbledore, pretending not to notice that both boys were
now studying her.
“ This is truly a happy day,” Dumbledore was saying, “ and so we will not ruin it with too many
words. However, I hope everyone will join me in welcoming Miss Granger back from a most unpleasant
sabbatical.”
There were some cheers at this, and Fred and George let out two wild whistles. Dumbledore stepped
down from the head of the room, and the crowd began to throb with life again. People were surging
toward Hermione now, each person seeming to be keen on shaking her hand and giving some encouraging
remark.
“ It is a pleasure to have you back, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonogal said, her voice unusually
thick. She refused to meet Hermione’s gaze and quickly hurried away, muttering something about her
allergies.
“ We missed you, Hermione,” Neville said solemnly, his lower lip quivering ever so slightly.
He was followed by Lavender, who kept glancing at Ron the entire time she spoke, then Justin, then
Luna, then Seamus and Dean and virtually every person Hermione had ever met in her entire lifetime.
By the time she was through, she felt as though her heart was about to explode from the current of
emotions she was feeling.
Sometime during her conversation with the forty-second or forty-third person, the band had begun to
play music. Several people were out on the dance floor, including Lavender and Ron, who seemed to
have lost his undying determination to be her co-escort.
Draco, who had been skulking rather moodily about the sidelines while Hermione was otherwise
preoccupied, moved toward her and smiled. “ Long day?” he inquired.
Hermione wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand. “ You could say that,” she murmured
weakly.
Silently, he held out his hand to her. She smiled and took the proffered palm, then stepped out
with Draco onto the dance floor. ‘Isn’t It Romantic’, an old muggle song, was playing in the
background. Contentedly, Hermione leaned her head against Draco’s shoulder.
“ This is all so incredible,” Hermione sighed. “ I never realized that I was so... loved.”
Draco was silent. At first, Hermione thought he hadn’t heard her, and then he murmured, “ You don’t
know what it was like without you, Hermione. It was...” He shook his head. “ I’d rather not talk
about it.”
Hermione smiled, trying to lighten the tension a bit. “ That good, huh?”
Draco grinned in return, though it seemed forced. “ Well, you know. It was no paradise, but there
was an alarming number of palm fronds and harps circulating about...”
Their gazes met, and suddenly Hermione found that it was very hard to smile at all. She had kissed
Draco before, and she knew the look he got in his eyes right beforehand. But surely, he wouldn’t be
crazy enough to kiss her in front of all these people, and surely she wouldn’t be crazy enough to
let him...
There was a blur of movement as someone tapped Draco on the shoulder, and Hermione looked up to see
Harry standing there. “ Mind if I cut in?”
“ Sure, Potter,” Draco returned good-naturedly, “ but I get to lead.”
Harry merely stared at him for a moment, unblinking. Scowling once more, Draco obligingly stepped
out of the way and moved off toward his spot on the wall, muttering something about blasted customs
and etiquette.
If Hermione had felt nervous about kissing Draco on the dance floor, it was nothing compared to the
anxiety she felt now at stepping into Harry’s arms. They smiled self-consciously at one another and
then moved into position. Hermione felt a disturbingly delicious sensation run through her body at
his touch, but she managed somehow to keep from throwing herself at him or running from him or
acting out any of the other horrible scenarios in her mind.
“ Is this all right?” Harry inquired after a moment. “ The party, I mean. I know you’ve never liked
big crowds...”
“ It is rather strange,” Hermione admitted with a sigh. “ Not because I mind the people, but
because...they’re welcoming me back from the dead.”
Harry nodded, obviously trying his best to understand her position. She could almost see the wheels
turning in his mind. “ But there haven’t been any side effects, have there? No strange
after-effects like Dumbledore said there might be?”
“ Well, my hair does seem a bit frizzier than usual,” Hermione joked lightly, “ but otherwise,
no.”
Smiling, Harry reached out and took a strand of her hair between his index finger and thumb,
twirling it a bit. “ Looks all right to me,” he complimented.
Hermione felt a delightful chill run down up spine. She opened her mouth, which had suddenly become
quite dry, and tried to think of something witty or profound to say. Harry seemed similarly
stumped.
It took them both a moment to realize that the song was over, and then with an equal mixture of
regret and relief, Hermione stepped away from him. “ Thanks for humoring me, Harry,” she said
quickly, “ I wouldn’t--”
She was interrupted, once again, by Ginny Weasley. “ Sorry to cut in, Hermione,” she interjected, “
but I’d like to steal my boyfriend for a dance or two...”
Hermione watched mutely as they left, a silent sob rising in her chest. Could he really be so
utterly daft? Could she really be so stupid as to think that Harry would ever look at her that
way?
There had been times when she had felt melancholy before, of course, but she suddenly felt
overwhelmingly heartbroken, and for no particular provocation. Nothing had changed since she left;
Ginny and Harry were still Ginny and Harry, and she’d coped with that before. And yet...
Suddenly, it was all she could manage not to scream in the middle of the dance floor, rent her
clothes even with the anguish that had overcome her. Stumbling blindly, she made her way out of the
grand hall, searching for an empty room to hide in until this wave of emotion passed.
She found it, a dark abandoned classroom just outside the main hall. Nearly faint with sorrow,
Hermione sunk down onto the ground and curled into a little protective ball. “ This will pass,” she
murmured, rocking back and forth, “ This will pass, this will pass, this will pass...”
A moment later, a sliver of light entered the room as the door was slowly pushed open. “ Hermione?”
came a tentative voice.
Hermione winced as the light fell upon her face, and suddenly Harry was by her side, his features a
mask of worry. “ Hermione, are you all right? Have you been hurt?”
She began to laugh suddenly, with no provocation whatsoever. She laughed harder than she had ever
laughed in her entire life, until her mouth and her throat and her stomach ached from the effort. “
Of course I’m not all right,” she managed, “ I should be dead, shouldn’t I?”
Seeing the troubled look on Harry’s face, she immediately sobered. “ Harry, something isn’t right.
Everything is all out of balance. I feel like my emotions are surging out of control.”
“ Do you want me to get someone?” Harry inquired, placing a concerned hand on her arm. “ I think I
saw Madame Pomfrey here, or maybe I should go straight to Dumbledore...”
But Hermione had ceased listening to him. Her gaze was focused now on his hand on her arm. It felt
as though electrical surges were running through her body, emanating from his touch. She’d been
affected by Harry before, attracted to him certainly, but this was ten times stronger than anything
she’d ever experienced. She felt a cold sweat break out on the back of her neck.
Harry seemed completely unaware of the effect he was having on her. “ Do you think you can walk? Or
maybe it would be best to leave you here, so we won’t worry everyone...”
*What IS he babbling about?* Hermione wondered to herself, watching him with a feverish intensity.
Her eyes wandered hungrily over his hands, his shoulders, his lips. She felt a scream welling up
inside of her again, but this time it was an altogether different sensation, and one decidedly more
pleasant...
Suddenly, it was too much to bear, and she lunged for him, pressing her lips against his own,
running her hands across his broad, firm back. Harry stiffened, stunned, but didn’t seem to mind
all that much as the kiss intensified and Hermione was nearly on top of him...
“ Harry?” came a voice from the door. “ Is everything--”
Harry wrenched himself away from Hermione, but it was too late. Ginny was already standing in the
doorway, with Draco and Ron a few steps behind her.
