Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, obviously, they belong to J.K. Rowling and assorted publishers. If you sue me, all you'll get is a beat up VW Bug.
A/N: Go easy on me, this is my first attempt at anything resembling humor, and bad humor at that.
Harry Potter hated pumpkins. With a burning passion. Why you may ask? Well, we'll come to that point later. Harry came to his slightly odd conclusion staring at his dormitory ceiling in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Until today he hadn't been given much reason to hate the orange fruit, after all, pumpkin pie wasn't all that bad, and given the opportunity as a child, he would've liked to carve a jack-o-lantern. He actually had an orange shirt or two. But he vowed to himself, from this day forward, he would never look at a pumpkin without the proper amount of loathing. After all, they had ruined one of his greatest friendships . . .
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Earlier that day. . .
Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing a few feet away from Hagrid's hut with the rest of their 7th year Care of Magical Creatures class, while Hagrid showed them the steps involved in training a crup.
Most of the class were bored by the lesson, but at the same time grateful the crup, unlike other creatures Hagrid liked to show, wasn't remotely interested in poisoning, stinging, scorching, or otherwise mutilating them.
A strong breeze blew across the lawns then, causing all of them to tighten their cloaks. It was late October, and this year brought unusually cold temperatures. One thing that wasn't unusual however, was the presence of six giant pumpkins lined by the back wall of the hut. In fact, the one closest to them seemed to be growing still. Harry shook his head at the idea, and turned to pay attention to Hagrid's lesson.
He held up the crup, which bore a very close resemblance to a Jack Russell terrier.
"There are certain steps yeh take to hide 'em. Now who can tell me why yeh clip their tails?"
Hermione's hand shot predictably up into the air, and he once again drifted off as she gave her answer. This time to a subject he was quite familiar with, and was definitely more interesting than the weather or Hagrid's pumpkins.
It was hard to notice, since he was a teenage boy, that Hermione had changed quite a bit over the past few years. While Harry and Ron had grown more than a few inches, and filled out (well, as much as Harry Potter could be expected to fill out), Hermione had matured into a woman who was hard to ignore. Not that he'd want to.
As long as he kept any non-platonic feelings about Hermione a secret, he wouldn't lose her as a friend.
Which, he reminded himself time and again, was the only way he would ever have her. Good old mates, Harry and Hermione.
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Present. . .
Harry heard footsteps approaching the dormitory door, and quickly sealed it.
"Give me a break Harry!" called Seamus form outside. "When are you going to let us in?"
"I'd appreciate it," Harry yelled back, "If you'd let me mope in bloody peace!" All he wanted was some time alone. But apparently, a bloke couldn't be properly depressed without a nosing Irishman knocking down his door.
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Earlier. . .
"They're very distrustin' o' Muggles," said Hagrid as the little dog ran around the ankles of the class, "They'll be righ' fierce, they'll be." Harry didn't want to seem jaded, but after facing a basilisk and a giant man-eating spider at age twelve, a tiny dog who yipped, and was currently licking Dean Thomas' face. . . well, he wasn't too intimidated.
"Now, yeh'll need to get a licence for 'em, so the Ministry'll know yeh - " Hagrid broke off, staring to his right with wide eyes. Harry and the rest of the class looked too - it seemed the one pumpkin Harry had noticed only a few minutes earlier was growing more than the others. In fact, he reckoned it had a few feet on him. No one even had a chance to step back before. . .
POP!
Harry wiped pumpkin mush off his glasses, and watched as it dripped to the ground in front of him. His classmates had faired just as poorly as he had, and he saw them trying to clear their ears and noses. He saw Hagrid, the mess only reaching halfway up his chest, looking very sheepish.
He took a step forward toward him, when his feet went out from under him. Apparently the ground was covered too. He barely heard the squish as he hit the ground - the laughter of the class almost drowned it out.
"Oh, Harry. . .are you all right?" came Hermione's voice from somewhere above him. He didn't see what happened next, but he assumed she made the same mistake as he did, and took a step forward. This time there was hardly a sound, seeing as she didn't hit the ground. In fact, she landed right on top of Harry.
After all the things he had gone through in his life, Harry Potter wasn't exactly a religious person. But if there was a God up there, Harry didn't know whether he should praise or hate him.
He looked up into Hermione's eyes, and saw a substantial amount of. . . was it fear or shock? He couldn't tell, nor did he care much at that moment. All he knew was the girl who had been his best friend since he was eleven, and the one he had been pining over for the past year was laying right on top of him.
He didn't know what came over him, but he couldn't help himself. He just had to. . .
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Present. . .
"Kiss her. I just had to kiss her!" Harry said, as he flopped back down on his bed. "Couldn't keep my hormones in check, could I? No, and it was all because of those bloody pumpkins!"
After what Harry had decided to dub 'The Great Pumpkin Folly', Hermione had scrambled off of him, and Harry had scrambled back to Gryffindor tower. He hadn't seen anyone since.
He once again heard footsteps approach the door, but this time they came with a different voice.
"Harry?" called Hermione softly, "Can you open the door?" He decided to ignore her, and rolled over, but she wasn't having that.
"You know I can break this spell Harry - please let me in." He acquiesced, not wanting the door in shatters. He got up as she entered, not knowing what to expect.
He had changed clothes once he got back, so he didn't reek of pumpkin, but had not gotten a chance to shower. Unlike Hermione, it seemed, whose hair was wet and smelled faintly of lavender. Just wonderful. . .
"We need to talk," she began, "About. . .um. . . what happened before." Harry recognised the discomfort on her face, but there was something else there that he couldn't place.
"Do you regret that. . . that you kissed me?" Before he could get a word out, she added:
"You need to be honest with me Harry - we've been lying for too long, it seems." Harry didn't notice the use of 'we', and took a deep breath before answering.
"Whether or not I regret it depends on how you feel about it." Hermione shook her head, exasperated.
"If you would have stuck around for a minute afterward you would already know how I felt about it, and you wouldn't have spent the last half hour in here, bemoaning life."
She stepped forward then, and moved her face within an inch of his.
"Do. You. Regret. It." she said with a small smile.
"No," he said with an air of finality, "I don't."
"Well, good then," Hermione said, her smile widening. "Now that we've got that out of the way - "
Their lips pressed together for the second time that day, and as Hermione's hands raked through his hair, Harry thought that pumpkins couldn't be all that bad. . .