Tears In May :: Mystery Series, Part I

A/N: This is my first attempt at romance, and I’ve been told it’s pretty good (not great, but not mediocre, either :) ), so I hope you all like it. As said in the summary, this story happens about three minutes after Heaven’s story “Just Kiss Me”. This is one of five stories that make up what happens between “Just Kiss Me” and “Return To Me”, which is perhaps the greatest H/Hr romance fic ever written.

And for those of you who are wondering, “Tears In May” is not my title. This series will be named after songs from the album “Mystery” by the group Missing Heart. It’s trance music, but the lyrics are so poetic that I just had to name the stories after them. The chapters are the lyrics to the songs, so if you download the songs…just read the chapter titles!

Anyway, here’s chapter one. Please enjoy!

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Harry and Hermione walked in nervous silence back to the Gryffindor common room. They both found it difficult to keep from laughing; the spicy smell of pumpkin pie drifted off Hermione’s sweater, almost concealing the smell of Hermione’s raspberry hair spray—almost, but not completely. Harry snickered, and Hermione slapped him gently on the arm as she sighed.

“What’s the password again?” Harry asked Hermione when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Honestly, Harry,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Prevaricating quibble,” Hermione said to the Fat Lady. She stepped aside and the painting swung open to reveal the doorway to the Gryffindor tower.

As soon as they stepped inside, the warmth of the fireplace touched every inch of their bodies. It was quite a warm and welcome change from the dank coolness of the Hogwarts halls. Ron was the only one sitting in the common room, and even he was drifting asleep in a large armchair he’d moved in front of the comfortably blazing fire. He snapped awake as Harry and Hermione slammed the door.

They threw off the cloak, and Harry was finally able to laugh aloud. Hermione glared at him as he fell, rolling with laughter, onto a sofa.

“I can’t believe you think it’s that funny,” she said. “It’s your fault, anyway, you know.” Harry smiled innocently at her as Ron came walking up.

“Enjoy your dessert?” he asked, a quirky grin coming to his face.

“It was delicious,” Hermione said, refusing to give in to what she knew Ron was implying.

“Was it really? I can still smell it,” he said, and Harry started laughing all over again. Hermione rolled her eyes and marched off into the girls’ dorms. “Was it something I said?” Ron asked Harry as he watched Hermione storm away.

“No,” Harry replied through intermittent pulses of laughter that he was attempting to stifle. “It was my fault. I kind of…pushed her onto some pie.” Ron’s eyes went wide, and Harry shot him a glare that Ron thought he’d only see from Hermione. “Oh, get your head out of the gutter.”

Ron only smiled as Harry went to sit in front of the fire. When Hermione came back down a few minutes afterward, she was met by the sight of Ron, in the same large armchair he’d been in earlier, pestering Harry, who sat in another couch before the roaring flames. As she approached, he looked up at her, a slight hint of beckoning in his gaze. He shifted his position on the couch so that he still covered most of its space, but in just such a way that he seemed inviting to anyone who wanted to join him—like Hermione.

She ignored that, though, and walked into an armchair similar to Ron’s. It was positioned in front of the fire, but it was closer than Harry’s and Ron’s so that none of them could see each other. Hermione wasn’t really mad at them; not at Harry, especially. She conjured up a steaming cup of cocoa and started sipping it.

“I wonder…” she thought to herself. She’d been doing her usual “light reading” in the libraries, and she’d found many interesting spells that she’d thought might come in handy. She’d made quite a long list, but soon after she’d written it, she’d left it in the common room, never to be seen again. She’d asked around, but nobody knew where it was. Hermione could only remember two or three spells from the list, one of which would turn anything into a reflective surface that only she could see.

She removed her wand silently from her robes and pointed it at the fire. “Reflecto panoptes,” she said quietly, and a bolt of dim, golden light shot from her wand into the flames. Almost instantly, she saw the dancing flames shimmer, and the Gryffindor common room behind her came into view. Ron was trying to keep from bursting into a fit of the giggles, but Harry was silent.

As she watched him sitting there, she became entranced by either the flames, dancing in their scarlet glory, or by Harry, his emerald green eyes penetrating even the crimson of the fire. Perhaps it was even a combination of the two, but Hermione only knew that by the time she consciously noticed that she was in a daze, her cocoa was completely cold.

Even then, though, she decided that she didn’t care. Seeing Harry’s green eyes pouring into hers made her smile inside. The touch of his lips…she wished that for even a moment, she could feel that again. Shifting her gaze, she noticed that Ron had left the room; she and Harry were the only two left in the common room.

Hermione realized that Harry, too, was caught in the dance of the fire. He seemed as lost as she, the only two people together in a secret dream world, brought together by a single enrapturing flame. For a fleeting moment, Hermione wondered if Harry could, in fact, see her as well.

“That’s silly,” she thought. Breaking her from her trance, though, a quiet voice came from behind her.

“Why is it silly?” She jumped, startled from being shaken from her stupor in such a way. She turned around quickly, only to find Harry looking at her intently.

“Oh, God,” she thought, “I’m not going to last long if he keeps looking at me like that.” Not voicing her thoughts, she said, “Pardon? I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to intrude on you like that.”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked.

“I…I used a mind reading spell.” Hermione looked perplexed; the only mind reading spells she knew of were in the restricted section, where she’d gotten permission to go in her free time. That was where she wrote—the parchment!

“You found my parchment!” she said in disbelief.

“Oh, it was yours?” Harry asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. You’re usually so meticulous about keeping your parchments tidy that it never occurred to me to ask you. Come to think of it, I’d asked almost everyone but you,” he said apologetically. Sincere apology showed in his eyes as he sat on the sofa. Hermione stood up and walked over to him with her hands on her hips.

“It’s alright, but I’d appreciate it if you’d ask before intruding upon my thoughts.”

“I knew what you were thinking anyway,” Harry said innocently.

“That’s…but you…still…” was all she was able to stammer before sighing and sitting beside him on the sofa. Hermione flung herself back into the cushions and threw her head back as Harry sat up.

“I’m really sorry, ‘Mione. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay,” she said, smiling at him. “But how could you see me?”

“You said panoptes instead of monoptes,” he said. “Everyone could see instead of just you. So really, I wasn’t reading your thoughts, since you seemed to be using the mirror for the exact same thing I was,” he said. They both blushed, and Harry slowly wrapped his arms around Hermione. She almost pulled away in surprise, but gave in after a moment’s hesitation that Harry didn’t notice.

Hermione leaned against Harry’s chest and thought to herself that there was no other place in the world that she’d rather have been. “If I die right now,” she thought to herself, “I’ll die perfectly contented.” She looked up to see if Harry had kept his promise; indeed he had, for his eyes met hers curiously.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’ve never been happier,” she said. Correcting herself, she added, “Actually, this is the second happiest I’ve been in my life.” She and Harry both smiled, remembering what had happened only a couple of hours before in the kitchens.

“Well, if this isn’t the best moment of your life, how about we make it the happiest moment of your life?” Harry asked.

“I’d love that,” she said softly. “I think I need some more of that pumpkin pie.” She smiled up at Harry, who began to reach for his invisibility cloak. “That’s not necessary,
she said. “I just need a taste.”

Taking her hint, Harry brought his lips to hers once again. In only a matter of seconds, their tongues were entwined in a gentle but heated kiss. When they finally pulled apart, Hermione insisted on staying in Harry’s arms for only a few minutes. As they sat, though, their contentment made them want to stay together on the sofa, alone in the heat of the fire. The flames’ warmth spread from the fireplace long into the night as Hermione fell asleep in Harry’s arms.

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So did you all like it? I sure hope so! I like Portkey better than Fanfiction.net…much more reliable. Please, tell me what you think! I’ll be posting quite frequently, so check back soon. Thanks, m’ dears!

A/N: Thanks to my four wonderful readers. Heaven's been very kind to me, yes...lol. This chapter's longer than the last one, so have fun reading :)

Star429: Thanks a lot :)

Hermione and Harry 4 Ever: Seriously, this is my first time! I've just been spending too much time talking to Heaven...LOL.

May: One of the better stories here? I'm glad you think so! Hehe...:: happy dance :: I have a good story!

Tweak: 'Zat you, Josh? Quit changing screen names! Well, keep on goin'! It gets a lot darker. This chapter was probably as fluffy as the story gets.

Once again, thanks for reviewing! Here’s chapter two for all of ya.

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The first light of dawn peeked through the windows of the Gryffindor common room, falling upon Harry’s closed eyes. His unruly black hair was blowing gently in the breeze leaking in through the fireplace chimney, but everything else was in perfect peace.

Harry was slowly brought from his dreams by the golden sunshine filtering through the glass. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw that he was still in the common room. A bit confused, he looked around to discern why he hadn’t retired to the dormitory. As he tried to get up, Harry finally realized what kept him in the common room.

“Hermione,” he said gently, “we need to get up.” She was sleeping unusually peacefully; usually, she tossed and turned in her sleep, but she thought that the softest bed in the world couldn’t compare to Harry’s arms.

With a stretch and a yawn, Hermione slowly brought herself to wakefulness. She, unlike Harry, knew exactly where she was and why she was there. She turned to face Harry and smiled tiredly.

“Do I really have to leave?” she asked.

“If people see us here, they’ll probably start saying things like—”

“Bloody hell, tell me I’m not seeing what my eyes tell me I think I’m seeing!” The voice from the stairway to the dormitories startled Harry and Hermione, and they both jumped up from the couch, blushing, as though nothing had happened. All they saw was the surprised face of one Ron Weasley with Seamus and D, quite awake, stopped in their tracks behind him.

“If that made sense, I’d try,” Seamus said to Ron, still unmoving. “But it sure looks to me like—”

“We both just woke up early and came down,” Hermione said, feigning a yawn. Harry didn’t have to fake it; he was still quite tired.

“Oh, really?” Seamus said. “I didn’t notice you coming to bed last night, Harry.” Harry stumbled over his words, trying to come up with a plausible story, but nothing came to him. He looked pleadingly at Hermione, but she seemed just as lost as he. Harry muttered something incoherently under his breath.

“That’s what I thought,” Ron said. “Finally, Harry. I can’t believe it took you two this long!” Hermione glared at Ron.

“Sleeping with your best friend at age fifteen?” Dean said. “That’s unthinkable.” Ron backhanded Dean; as much as he loved teasing Harry and Hermione himself, they were still his best friends. Hermione, still not satisfied with Ron’s slap, walked over to Dean with narrowed eyes.

“Are you implying that we did more than sleep last night?” she asked slowly. “Because if you are, you’re wrong, first of all, and second, even if we did, that’s farther than you’ve ever gotten with…that,” she said, giving him a quick, mocking glance downward. Seamus’ jaw fell, and Ron started laughing. He and Hermione exchanged a subtle low-five as she turned on her heel and walked back to the girls’ dormitory.

Ron walked over to Harry, who had sat back down on the sofa. Harry was biting his lip, trying to find some way to explain what had happened to Ron. Ron, however, needed no explanation. The Weasley intuition had kicked in.

“It’s okay, Harry, I know you didn’t do anything. I would like to know how it happened, though. I’ve been trying to hook the two of you up for months.” Harry looked at him in disbelief, and Ron smiled and shrugged.

Harry briefly related the past evening’s events to Ron, who drank it all in calmly. “Sounds…exciting,” he said after Harry finished. Harry only smiled. “So what do you two plan to do about this? Are you going to dive headfirst into a relationship? You know how Hermione is about guys. You’re really lucky if she gave you a heartfelt kiss…or two, or three,” he said laughing. Harry picked up a pillow threateningly.

“I know I’m lucky,” Harry said. “I just can’t believe it’s taken me five years to finally understand just how lucky I am, both to have you as such a good friend and Hermione as…well, I still have to figure that out. We also need to figure out what to do with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum over there,” he said, pointing at Dean and Seamus.

“Oh, I’m sure Hermione can use a simple memory charm on them,” Ron said.

Harry laughed. “I’d appreciate it if you’d not mention what happened last night to anyone. Not that I’m ashamed or anything; quite the opposite. I just don’t want people getting the wrong idea about me, and especially about Hermione.” Ron smiled and nodded his agreement.

“But are you going to tell them?” he asked.

Harry thought for a moment before replying, “If they ask, we’ll tell them the truth, but I don’t think I’ll go waving it around in everyone’s faces.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ron said.

“What do you mean, sounds good to you?” Harry guffawed. “I’m not asking you for your advice on girls. I’ve learned my lesson already!” Ron picked up a pillow in much the same way Harry had, although he skipped the threatening stage, and both of them started laughing uncontrollably as Ron and Harry began whacking each other with the pillows.

Hermione walked back down the stairs with the other Gryffindor girls into the common room to find Harry and Ron in a full-fledged pillow fight. Hermione rolled her eyes as she walked down, the other girls laughing, and grabbed the pillows in mid-throw.

“Stop fighting, you two,” she said in a motherly tone of voice. “Honestly…boys…” Harry turned to Hermione and stuck his lower lip out. “Oh, don’t go there with me, Harry.”

“Well,” Ron said, straightening himself out, “I’m off to breakfast. Will any of you ladies care to join me?” he asked. Ginny laughed at her brother, as did the rest of the girls, who walked out the door without Ron. “Why do I even try?” he asked, throwing his arms into the air before running off to join them.

Sighing, Hermione sat down on the couch. “Wouldn’t you like to go, too?” Harry asked her.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you for a second,” she said. Just then, the rest of the Gryffindor boys came out of the dormitory into the common room. Fred muttered something about being able to eat a hippogriff, and they all began walking toward the door.

“Sure,” Harry said, sitting down next to her. They waited for the rest of the boys to leave before resuming their conversation. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that…about last night, I wanted to—”

“Nobody has to know,” Harry said, cutting her off. Hermione sighed and looked deeply into Harry’s eyes. She pulled away, knowing that she’d have been drawn hopelessly into him if she’d continued gazing into his twinkling green eyes. He’d read her thoughts again, though this time it was by intuition and not by magic. However, he still didn’t understand her feelings completely.

“Harry, that’s not…Okay, that’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about, but it’s not as simple as everyone not knowing. I just…don’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

“That’s perfectly fine with me,” Harry said, wrapping his arms around her. Hermione pushed him away, though.

“But I really don’t want to jump into a relationship, Harry. I’m happy that you’ve finally taken a hint,” she said with a laugh, to which Harry only glared at her teasingly, “but what if we have the worst breakup in the world? Our friendship means more to me than anything else.”

“We could take it slowly,” Harry suggested. “That way, if we do break up—emphasis on the ‘if’, mind you—we’ll do so early enough that nothing will be…hurt.” Hermione sighed and nodded to show her acknowledgement.

“If you’re really serious about this, then let’s go for it,” she said happily.

In reply, Harry only wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. Harry stopped himself (using every last ounce of self-restraint, which was what it took to do so) from going any farther than a small kiss there. Nonetheless, he kissed her lovingly and passionately, and she gave in willingly.

The soft touch of her lips left Harry wondering if heaven hadn’t already converged with earth at that moment. Once again, the faint scent of raspberry drifted his way as he held her close. As he pulled away reluctantly, he slowly opened his eyes, willing the sensation brought by her soft kiss to stay.

“Are you hungry?” Harry asked her.

“Why, are you willing to give me more?” she asked slyly.

Harry rolled his eyes before replying, “I meant breakfast.” Hermione blushed and started giggling. “Get your head out of the Harry Potter gutter,” she thought to herself.

“Sure. I’m not very hungry, but why not?” He offered his arm, but she knocked it down and settled for taking his hand in hers as they walked out the door toward the Great Hall. Harry really didn’t have much of an appetite, either, but to him, any excuse to be walking with Hermione beside him was reason enough to do anything.

It took them about fifteen minutes to get from the Gryffindor tower to the Great Hall. Ron gave them a quirky smile as they took their seats, to which Harry and Hermione both rolled their eyes.

They helped themselves to the platters of bacon, sausage, and hotcakes and ate quickly, wanting to get the day over with as soon as possible so that they’d be able to spend the evening alone together again.

The rest of the day, to their amusement, went by faster even than they’d hoped. Double potions with the Slytherins was relatively uneventful, even with Malfoy “accidentally” adding some gillyweed to Harry’s Draught of Drought.

Transfiguration passed quickly with a few interesting glances from Hermione. She’d tried to be her usual patronizing self, but every time she looked at Harry, she seemed to have been unable to do anything but smile shyly and blush. She tried to hide it, but Ron caught it every time. As his just-desserts, McGonagall caught him giggling at Hermione and gave him detention.

“Ha,” Hermione mouthed to him as he slouched down in his chair. He glared up at her with a muttered, “Thanks.”

That evening Harry took a while at dinner to listen to Fred and George’s new ideas for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. He returned to the Gryffindor common room only a few minutes before curfew with pocketfuls of various things that he really didn’t want to know more about.

The common room was surprisingly empty for that hour of night, Harry thought. He immediately began glancing around for Hermione, and he spotted her after only a few moments in front of the fire. She was lying on the sofa in which they’d slept as though it were a divan, writing in a small book by the firelight. Harry snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and Hermione jumped.

“Harry! You made me smear the page!” she cried.

“Sorry,” Harry said apologetically.

“No problem.” Hermione cast a quick erasing spell, and the book was good as new.

“What’s that?” Harry asked curiously.

Hermione held it to her chest protectively. “It’s my diary, and you can’t read it!” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Who are you writing about?” Harry asked, nosing further into Hermione’s business.

“Who says I’m writing about anyone?” she said innocently. Harry, knowing better, exchanged his position behind her for a seat next to her as he walked around the sofa.

“You’re writing about me, aren’t you?” he said devilishly.

“No,” Hermione corrected, “I’m writing about us.” Harry certainly hadn’t expected her to say that, and Hermione grinned at the look on Harry’s face. “October the twelfth,” she read aloud, forgetting about her previous comment that Harry couldn’t know its contents, “The love of my life has finally agreed to be the one for me. I won’t go into all the interesting details, but we’ve shared more than one kiss, and I know that he loves me as much as I love him, if that’s possible at all.”

Hermione closed the book, looking at Harry. She had a large, loving smile on her face that Harry simply couldn’t resist. He cupped his hands around her face and brought himself so that his body was barely above hers and slowly brought his lips to hers.

She found that no amount of self-inhibition would be able to keep her from giving in to his kiss. Hermione was downright thrilled that after four years of friendship and seemingly wasted wishes, it had all led to this. She was surprised as Harry parted his lips and caressed her lips with his tongue. Her mouth opened slowly, and her tongue met his.

It was more than Hermione had ever wanted in her life. They alternated between engaging in a fierce dance with their tongues and kissing each other’s necks. Their arms were wrapped around each other, and they were trying to be as quiet as possible. Despite her attempts at silence, though, Hermione let out a considerably loud gasp as Harry kissed her where her neck met her shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said nervously. “I didn’t mean to—” Hermione cut him off by kissing him even harder than before.

A few minutes later, they pulled apart, and Harry, who had shifted himself under Hermione, pulled her on top of him. She let her head fall onto his chest and felt his strength flowing into her. As she brought her head up, a tear fell into Harry’s robes.

“What’s wrong, ‘Mione?” Harry asked, wrapping his arms tighter around her.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s just right.” She smiled at him, happier than she’d ever been before, and lay on him once more before pushing herself off him. “We’d better get to bed before we have a repeat of last night,” she warned with a quirky grin.

“Not that I don’t like sleeping with you,” Harry said jokingly, “but I think you’re right.” They stood and kissed each other good night before walking up the stairs to their dormitories.

Harry didn’t fall asleep until a few hours later. Despite the beauty of the moonlight coupled with the twinkling stars, Hermione completely dominated his thoughts. In the next room, Hermione was having the exact same problem. Their thoughts were lost on each other, as were their hearts.

“Good night, Harry,” Hermione whispered as she drifted off into sleep.

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Wow, that was quite long…lol! I really hope you all liked it. I’m starting to wonder if I should change the rating to R, but I’m not sure yet. Include that in your reviews, if you would, please. Thank you so much! And if you'd recommend this to any friends, please, do so! I’d be so happy if you could do that for me. I really want my writing to be read by as many people as possible. :)

A/N: Yaaaaaah, I’m not used to such tough reviews, LOL. I’m glad Portkey’s here, though, ‘cause it’s going a lot faster than on some of the other sites on which this story’s posted.

Sorry about my little hiatus there. If you go to my high school, then you’ll understand what “a grip of projects” is. To Kill a Mockingbird, the global status of Japan, science fair, reading 2000 pages every semester, normal homework… *sigh* Ah, well. I’m glad to be back writing. And thanks to all of you for reviewing!

LordAnHur: Yay! This story really doesn’t get much juicier than this (unless Heaven and Ryoko start rubbing off on me too much, LOL), but I may think about changing this to R. I’ll put up one more chappie and see how it goes, kk?

Clair: Haha, sorry about Mr. D there. This is what happens when you rely on Microsoft, eh? I’m glad you like it :)

Old Wolf: More passionate snogging? Does that mean more often or more passionate? LOL, I’ll do both just to make us both happy :P

Heaven: You’re actually keeping up with my writing! Even though you’ve already seen how the story goes, lol. Thanks so much for reviewing! :: Happy dance, ignores stares from family :: Lots o’ love!

Hermione and Harry 4Ever: Your screen name sounds familiar somehow…Oh, nevermind, hehe…Yes, my first time writing romance. I’ve just spent too much time reading Heaven and Ryoko’s stories and *Ahem* shaglets.

Well, thanks again! Rating 9.46 at the moment…That’s quite good, considering how much I’ve been writing recently (er, not writing :) ) Here’s chapter 3 for you all. Please enjoy!

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Harry awoke the next morning from a wonderful dream he’d been having about Hermione. The sunlight was shining through the windows, but the chilly autumn air still made Harry want to stay in the warmth of the blankets. In the adjacent bed, Ron was apparently experiencing the same thing, for he was trying to get out of bed with the blankets still wrapped around him.

Next door in the girls’ dormitory, Hermione was wishing she could have had Harry’s arms wrapped around her instead of the blanket as she woke up. She was an early riser, so she was up before the sun was. The cold didn’t faze her; a quick warming charm had taken care of that. She went into the bathroom to shower and dress. When she was satisfied that her robes were neat and orderly, she looked in the mirror and sighed.

“And Harry thinks his hair is bad?” she asked the mirror sardonically. She did her best to straighten it, but her usual mass of frizz couldn’t be tamed. After a few minutes, Hermione settled for a rubber band that she used to tie everything back into a large, puffy ponytail.

She and Harry entered the common room at almost the same time. Harry’s face lit up when he saw her, as usual, and he ran over to her and threw his arms around her. Hermione stood there for a moment, just wanting to stay like that forever. Her prudence kicked in, though, and she took his hands in hers, extricating herself from his hug.

Harry didn’t mind; being near her was good enough.

“You don’t like hugging me?” he asked with mock sadness.

“We shouldn’t be getting as far as we were last night in public, Harry,” she said in a reprimanding tone of voice.

“So you don’t like kissing me either?” Harry asked, sticking his lower lip out. Hermione just rolled her eyes and flung herself onto a chair in a distant corner of the room; the armchairs and sofas brought back too much emotion, and she feared she’d probably end up at home base if she sat back down in one of them.

“Good morning,” George called as he walked down the stairs. Fred and Ron were close on his heels, and Seamus, Dean, and Justin weren’t far behind them. “You’re up early,” he said casually.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Harry said. “Too much on my mind.” On the other side of the room, Hermione rolled her eyes at him, unseen by the boys.

“Yeah. That test Professor Sprout’s giving us is racking my nerves, too,” Fred said. Hermione, apparently, was the only one who’d gotten Harry’s comment. “Well, I’m starved!”

“You always are,” Justin joked.

“So?” Fred said in his defense. Harry laughed as he got up to join them for breakfast. He looked at Hermione invitingly, and she stood up with a smile to join him. They left the common room as the first of the girls began coming down the stairs.

“You’re not going to wait for them?” Hermione asked the boys.

“Girls take too long,” Dean called out. Hermione was clearly about to give him a piece of her mind, but Harry pulled her back on the pretense of restraining her.

“Don’t walk so fast,” Harry whispered to her.

“You can keep up,” she said. Harry only sighed as he drew her completely into his arms.

“Harry, not here and not now,” Hermione said shortly. “There must be rules against making out in the hallway, and I really don’t want to get caught—”

“Do you know of any specific rules against making out in the hallways?” Harry asked.

“Well, no, but—”

“Then there aren’t any.” Hermione glared at him.

“I do not know every rule here, thank you.”

“Sure,” Harry laughed. Sighing her usual sigh of “I’m going to regret this”, Hermione finally surrendered to Harry’s badgering. She stood on her tiptoes to reach Harry’s lips but was rewarded as he dove right in with his tongue.

Harry was rewarded as well as he elicited a small moan from Hermione. He pulled away and began kissing her neck but stopped before he hit the spot that had made her cry out the previous night. He took her tongue back into his mouth, just to hear an, “Oh, God” from down the hallway.

Hermione looked up and jumped away from Harry quickly as though nothing had happened. Straightening her robes, she saw Ron walking over to them.

“Yes, Ron?”

“Sorry,” he said, laughing, “I forgot my wand back in the dorms.” He cast a glance at Harry and laughed again. “Please tell me that’s your wand I see there,” he said, glancing at Harry’s lower body. Harry blushed and quickly glanced down to see nothing. He looked up angrily at Ron, who was doubled over in laughter.

“Who’d have thought? Hermione Granger making out in public!” Ron shouted.

“I’ll hex you straight back to the common room if you don’t start walking,” Hermione said, pulling her wand out of her robes. “I do not find that funny. And as for you,” she said, turning to Harry as Ron walked off, “that was way too close.”

“Are you mad at me?” Harry asked, still miffed at Ron.

“You’ll be lucky if I kiss you again this week,” Hermione said. “So not angry, exactly.”

“Do you think you can survive a week without kissing me?” Harry asked devilishly.

“Of course I can. I have more than a one-track mind, you know,” she teased.

“Are you suggesting that making out with you is all I ever think about?” Harry grinned at her.

“Maybe,” she said, walking off. Harry ran to follow her.

Breakfast was a horrible mess between Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Hermione kept shooting annoyed glares at Harry and Ron, which sent the both of them into hysterics.

“Boys aren’t supposed to giggle,” Hermione scolded. Ron and Harry only started laughing harder. They couldn’t suppress anything until they got to Professor Flitwick’s class.

He stood on a pile of seven tomes, to Harry’s amusement. “Has he gotten shorter lately?” he thought to himself. He took his seat next to Seamus and dropped into the small, wooden chair.

Double charms with the Ravenclaws was a bit enjoyable for Harry. At least it wasn’t with the Slytherins, Harry thought. He scanned the room and saw many students he’d come to know over the years at Hogwarts. He stopped, however, when he saw Cho in a daze staring at him.

He waved his hand to her to get her attention and bring her back to reality, and she jumped when she realized he’d met her gaze. She slowly looked away with an almost shameful expression on her face. Harry knew she still subconsciously blamed his for Cedric’s death, even though he’d explained to her what had happened. He couldn’t blame her for her feelings, though; he now knew what it was like to be wholly in love with someone. He just hoped it would never be taken away as her love had. Suddenly, he was broken from his thoughts by Seamus.

“You’ve got lipstick on your face, Harry,” Seamus said.

“What?” Harry said. “Hermione doesn’t wear lipstick.” Seamus laughed uncontrollably as Harry mentally smacked himself for his slip. Harry glared at Ron, who Harry realized had told Seamus. Ron was chuckling at Harry as Seamus made his comment, but he looked away quickly as Harry turned to him.

Harry was about to hex him into their seventh year, but Professor Flitwick began class just as Harry was pointing his wand at Ron. Harry looked up at Hermione across the room; she seemed as though she’d heard the whole proceeding, for she had the same unapproving expression Harry wore. They caught each other’s eyes and started smiling as Professor Flitwick began lecturing.

The lesson was a charm that would reflect spells back at your opponent. It was rather difficult to execute, but it was a powerful spell. Professor Flitwick warned that many spells, like the Avada Kedavra, couldn’t be blocked or reflected in any way, but the reflecting spell worked on most charms, curses, and hexes.

The students spent the remainder of the class period casting charms on each other and reflecting them back. Seamus thought he could slip a Furnunculus past Flitwick, but Harry deftly sent the spell right back at him. Professor Flitwick was not amused at Seamus’ spell and gave him detention after sending him to see Madame Pomfrey.

Harry briefly looked up, feeling bad for having reflected such a spell back at Seamus, and saw Hermione smiling at him.

“Well done,” she mouthed to him. Harry smiled and blushed.

“Harry, please join Ron and Hermione. You three can work together since Seamus…left,” Professor Flitwick said. Harry walked over to where Hermione and Ron were sitting. He flashed a warm smile at Hermione, and Ron tried unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter. Hermione gently slapped him on the arm as she rolled her eyes. She returned Harry’s smile before casting a small hex on Ron, who was unprepared.

Slugs began pouring from his mouth once again, much to his unhappiness. Harry and Hermione laughed at Ron as Professor Flitwick dismissed class. Harry took Hermione’s hand as they walked to the Great Hall for lunch. The look on Hermione’s face made Harry think twice before having a repeat of that morning.

“You were right,” she suddenly said out of nowhere.

“About what?” Harry asked.

She stopped and looked into his eyes. “I don’t think I can go another minute without kissing you.” Harry smiled as he took her into his arms and kissed her lightly. Hermione smiled into his lips as they broke apart and walked to lunch.

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Please review! I’ll have chapter 4 up more quickly, I promise :) And as I said before, this story’s a spin-off of Heaven’s story “Just Kiss Me”, so go hit Heaven with a few reviews since she’s so nice to me for letting me write this! Some of the things will prolly make a bit more sense, too, lol. Thanks, m’ dears! *kissy* (Ooh, that was wrong…guys don’t do that…)

A/N: See I do have the capacity to write quickly! Lol. I dunno how fluffy this chapter’s gonna be, but it’s definitely longer than chapter 3. Once more, thanks to all my faithful reviewers!

Erin: Okay, that’s disturbing…

Nicole: Yes, Heaven and Ryoko are goddesses to me. :: Falls to knees :: I’m so happy you think this does justice to Just Kiss Me! YAY

Clair: To short? The next few chapters are gonna be longer, then. That was a bit of a short one, wasn’t it?

Hermione and Harry 4Ever: 15 going on 16? Really now… Me too! Well, Heaven and Ryoko will, if I beg and plead and suck up enough, probably help me with some of the later chapters just to kick up the rating a bit, if you know what I mean ;) Nothing past R, though, promise!

LordAnHur: Yes, Ron and his slugs. Whoo-hoo! I think…oh, what’s his name? Rupert Grint! I think he had a bit too much fun with the slugs…

Anyway, this chapter focuses around what happens with Cho in their 5th year. I know some of you are wondering where Voldemort is. THIS WILL NOT BE THATFLUFFY! I HAVE NOT GOTTEN RID OF VOLDEMORT! Promise ;) You’ll see…Not yet, though. Enjoy!

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“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Cho said quickly as she turned the corner right into Harry.

“Oh!” Harry cried, just as surprised as she was; why a Ravenclaw would be walking the corridors between the library and the Gryffindor tower was beyond Harry. Neither of them was carrying anything so it was a relatively clean collision, and Harry knew that his forehead would be bruised from where his hit Cho’s. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it. I should be fine. I think I hit you pretty good, though…”

“It’s okay, really.”

“Yeah,” Cho said sheepishly, “I guess nothing this small hurts after—I’m sorry.”

“What?” Harry asked, confused by her half-comment. “Oh…Cho, please, I told you what happened.”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I just need someone to blame, and my mind just kind of associates you with that whole mess whether I want it to or not. Believe me, I’ve put Cedric behind me as much as I can, but…” She stopped and took a deep breath; Harry saw that talking about Cedric could still bring her to the verge of tears.

“I know how it feels to lose someone you love,” Harry said weakly. “I’ve lived my life knowing that Voldemort killed my parents, but I’ve never lost someone I’ve loved like Hermione. Still, I know how much it hurts.” Cho flinched twice as he spoke—once when he mentioned Voldemort’s name, and again when he said Hermione’s name.

Harry wondered if Cho was afraid of Hermione, as well. But why? The only people who should have really feared Hermione were those like Malfoy who drove her to the edge and back in only a few words.

Cho seemed a bit lost for words. To her relief, she heard Su Li calling her from down the hall. With a hurried and grateful goodbye, she turned and ran off to meet her friend.

“That was weird,” Harry said to himself. Shrugging it off, he walked over to where Ron and Hermione were approaching. Harry had waited for Hermione in the common room after dinner, but she didn’t come, so Harry set to searching for her in the library. Not finding her there, either, he was going to go back to the common room to wait, when he bumped into Cho.

“There you are!” Harry called to Hermione. “I’ve been looking for you all over!”

“Sorry,” she laughed. “I’ve been looking for you, too. Did you forget?”

“Forget what?” Harry had no idea what Hermione was talking about.

“Honestly, Harry,” she sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “You said you’d meet me by the library?” She reached into her robes and pulled out a scrap of parchment. Harry took it and glanced at it quickly. It looked like his handwriting, but he didn’t remember writing it.

“Meet me by the library after dinner. I want to talk to you,” it read.

“I never wrote this,” Harry said, perplexed.

“Then it seems someone’s been trying to lure us apart. Kind of scared me when I read it…the wording was a bit…Oh, never mind,” Hermione said tiredly. “Sounds like something Malfoy would do, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, though I doubt he’d have the brains to copy your handwriting like this,” Ron said.

“Gee, thanks, Weasel.” Ron spun around to face the unsmiling Draco Malfoy, his silver hair slicked back and reflecting a shade of gold in the dim light. “I appreciate the compliment.”

Without another word, he stormed off, much to the disapproval of Crabbe and Goyle, who both wanted to inflict more than a sarcastic comment or two toward Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Left without much choice, however, they shrugged and followed Draco.

“Did anyone but me think that was a bit…odd?” Ron said after Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were satisfactorily out of earshot.

“So I didn’t fall asleep through an insult-fest? How come Malfoy didn’t offer to punch your face in, Harry?” Harry looked as lost as Hermione and Ron, but he shrugged it off.

“Maybe he’s learning to be a good human,” Harry said good-naturedly. “There must be some part of him that can’t be all that bad.”

Hermione looked at Harry as though he’d spoken treason against the library. “Are we talking about the same Malfoy here? I’m referring to the one who calls me Mudblood, the one who calls Ron the Weasel, and the sick-mouthed prick who insists on calling you any other derogatory names he can think of at the moment. Which Malfoy in some faraway corner of the world are you talking about?”

“Honestly, Hermione,” Harry said, beginning to sound a lot like Hermione, “He’s still human. Your parents are dentists, aren’t they? They must’ve gone through extensive medical training, and if I know you—and I do—you know about as much as they do. So you should know,” he said, casting a somewhat reprimanding glare at Hermione, “that simply being a Malfoy through his genes has nothing to do with it, even though his…environment may contribute to his behavior. Either way, it’s a scientific impossibility that he’s mean to the core.”

“Blimey, Harry,” Ron said, giving Harry a warm, impressed stare, “I don’t think you can put that into more Hermione-esque terms. I hardly followed you there!” Hermione slapped him gently on the arm, and rolled her eyes.

“If that’s how you feel about Malfoy, that maybe he’s finally learning how to be a proper human and not…an animal even Slytherin wouldn’t want, then I suppose there’s no convincing you otherwise,” Hermione sighed. Harry smiled and discreetly took her hand in his as the three of them walked back to the Gryffindor common room. As they were walking, he vaguely heard her mutter something about Malfoy being a four-letter-word that Harry was shocked he’d ever hear Hermione say.

“Whatever,” Harry sighed. Hermione leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder as they continued walking.

“Won’t you kiss me?” she asked quietly in Harry’s ear.

“Will you acknowledge that I’m right and you’re wrong for once?” Harry asked slyly.

“Never,” Hermione replied with the same tone of mock arrogance in her voice. In reply, Harry looked ahead once more, ignoring Hermione. Hermione put on her best puppy-dog face, and Harry began to find it increasingly difficult to walk with Hermione hanging on his arm and looking at him that way. The last thing he needed was for Ron to turn around or for someone to walk up and see them.

Someone like Cho, who seemed to be redoubling her steps from earlier that afternoon. Harry sighed to himself, and Hermione quickly straightened herself as best she could before Cho would see her. Nonetheless, Cho saw Harry and Hermione as she raised her head. She turned away quickly with a small, forced smile and ran down the corridor.

Suddenly, it dawned on Harry. “It’s you,” he said to Hermione.

“Huh?” she asked.

“It’s you. Cho’s been acting so weird around me because of you,” Harry said.

“You mean she actually does like you? Why does my life have to be such a damned soap opera?” she sighed.

“No, no,” Harry assured her. “It’s just seeing me, the one who’s associated with Cedric’s death, with a girlfriend”—Harry noticed an unrestrained smile on Hermione’s face as he said that—“when Cedric, the one she was in love with, was killed.”

“Oh,” Hermione said slowly. “I guess I’d feel bad in her situation, too.”

“Yeah. But she’s been really nice to me lately. I don’t know if she’s just forcing it so it seems like there’s no hard feelings, but we’ve been on really good terms lately. I mean, I guess you could even say we’re friends, rather than just acquaintances.”

“Don’t you go getting any farther than that, though,” Hermione said. She noticed Ron turning around to glance at them and felt bad that they’d been leaving him out of their conversation. “I’m sorry, Ron! We just kind of…got lost in our own little world.”

“That’s all I need to know,” Ron said quickly.

“That is not what I meant, mind you! I’m sorry, we won’t do that anymore. Can I make it up to you? How about some pumpkin pie? I’m sure Dobby would be happy to oblige.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ron said with a laugh, “and make this a love triangle? I know what happens when you two get around pumpkin pie, and I’m choosing not to be a part of that.” They all laughed as they approached the Fat Lady’s portrait.

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Please review, everyone! Thanks so much. This didn’t turn out THAT much longer than chapter 3, but I promise (that’s three promises in one chapter…can I keep them all?) that things start to get interesting. There’s actually a plot developing! :: Clapping :: Yes, no mindless shagging for these two for a while. :)

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A/N: I am SOOOO sorry it’s taken me so long. This story is NOT DEAD YET! Lol. I’m in the middle of the biggest school project of the year right now, but fortunately, it doesn’t require much homework…er, as much homework is more accurate. Anyway, I’ll be posting more often.

Nicole: Yay, thanks! I just think a story without a plot is just wrong by the laws of the English language…unless it’s a shaglet, then I don’t care, LOL. (Yeah, Heaven coined that word…don’t ask)

Old Wolf: Yes, I know that was very un-Hermione-ish, to say the very least, but when you’re in love, you tend to do some strange things. Hermione was just sticking up for Harry. And no, nothing unknown has happened between them…yet ;) (You’ll see)

Clair: CONFUSED!!!!!! Too short? Wait until the later chapters…some of those are gonna be so long you’ll really have to like the story to keep reading, lol. I have no idea how you managed to review twice, but…oh well!

YurimionePotter: Well, Voldemort doesn’t come in (directly) until a lot later. Just hold on ;)

BabyHalo19, BamaSlamma29, Taself: Keep on reading! Thanks for reviewing!

And without further ado, here’s chapter 5!

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Chapter 5 ~ In the Twilight of My Mind

Hermione didn’t sleep well at all that night. She had a dream that she’d confronted Draco alone in a corridor, and he turned into a giant snake and began making attempts on her life. She must have been making noises in her sleep, because just when she thought she was going to have her head bitten off, she saw Ginny’s worried face hovering over hers.

“Are you okay, Hermione?” Ginny asked, sincerely worried for Hermione.

“Yeah,” she gasped, trying to calm herself down. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Ginny.” She threw off the covers for a while; her body was covered in cold sweat from her dream. Her hands felt cold, and she wished more than anything that she could have had Harry with her then.

Somehow, she managed to fall asleep again. Hermione didn’t know why she’d had a dream about Malfoy; maybe it was his unusually placid demeanor that evening that unnerved her, but she felt that something definitely was a bit weird. He didn’t even call her “Mudblood.”

Soon enough, though, the first rays of golden sunlight made their way through the windows of the dormitory, bringing Hermione from her unusually light sleep. As she dressed, she resolved that she had no reason to tell Harry about the dream. “No reason to spoil his image of me, right? Nobody wants a ninny for a girlfriend,” she thought to herself. She took a bit longer than usual getting ready in order to hide the signs of her restless sleep.

Hermione forced a smile onto her face as she walked down to the common room, but the need to feign happiness faded when she saw Harry waiting for her. Apparently, all the other boys had gone already.

“You didn’t have to wait,” she said.

“So?” Harry asked, his loving smile seeing straight through to Hermione’s heart. “Are you hungry? Everyone else already left.”

“I’m starved. Even Ron didn’t wait for us?” Hermione asked.

“You know Ron,” Harry laughed. “He’s the human vacuum cleaner. Eating is the only thing that keeps him from going insane. Well, that, and he didn’t want to be around if we started…you know…”

Hermione rolled her eyes, unable to believe Harry could possible have such a one-track mind. “If we go now, they won’t start saying things. We’d better catch up before gossip does.” Harry grinned and nodded. He offered his hand, and she took it happily. They walked quickly to the Great Hall just as the Weasley were; they’d timed it perfectly.

“That was fast,” Ron said when he saw them running over.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “we tried to walk—HEY!” he shouted as he saw the quirky grin on Ron’s face. He punched Ron in the arm playfully as they walked through the large, wooden doors. Hermione politely and discreetly dropped Harry’s hand, as she still didn’t want to attract attention.

They all sat down to eat. Platters of food appeared—as usual—and Ron made a hoggish spectacle of himself—also as usual—by gorging himself to a capacity unparalleled by anyone but Fred and George. Harry and Hermione watched him out of the corners of their eyes, taking great amusement in Ron’s lack of delicacy. Ron didn’t notice their almost-stifled giggles.

When they all finished and put down their forks, Hermione was eager as ever to get off to their first class that day.

“What do we have now?” Ron asked, still not completely acquainted with their new schedules, even after a whole month.

“Double potions,” Hermione said.

“With the Slytherins,” Harry finished for her.

“Oh, that’s right,” Ron groaned. Double potions with the Slytherins seemed to be an annual challenge for the Gryffindors, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren’t enjoying it any more than they had from the first. “I think I’m going to ditch this—”

“You are not, Ron Weasley,” Hermione said shortly, pulling Ron by the collar off to the dungeons, not giving him a second glance. “We are all going to class, whether you like it or not.”

“I’ll take ‘not’,” Ron said. Hermione pretended to ignore him. She walked him down to the dungeons, holding his collar the whole way to emphasize her point, much to Ron’s disapproval. Harry contented himself by taking Hermione’s other hand, and Hermione lightened up on Ron a bit, feeling more at ease with Harry at her side.

They all made it down to the dungeons a few minutes before Snape walked out of his office. He always seemed to be able to make his way, completely invisibly, from the Great Hall into his office in a matter of seconds. Being as Hogwarts was un-Apparatable ground, Hermione told Harry and Ron that she suspected the existence of some hidden passages.

Hidden corridors were, of course, nothing new to them. In such a concealed room, Harry had come across the Mirror of Erised in his first year. Harry wondered if he’d still see his parents at his side if he looked into the Mirror of Erised again, now that he and Hermione were lovers.

They took their seats and let their eyes adjust to the usual dim lighting of the dungeon. Snape took his place by the podium and got them started making a potion that would make ink perfect for anything—it would thicken it if it was too watery, change the color to black for formal essays, or anything else appropriate. Hermione was smiling almost maniacally just thinking of what she’d be able to do with special ink for her essays, but Harry and Ron were wondering what on Earth a potion for rectifying ink would be used for.

Hermione was paired with Blaise Zabini from Slytherin, but Ron and Harry were, fortunately, paired together. They began putting the ingredients carefully into their cauldron. After over four years of mixing potions in Snape’s class, they’d learned to be meticulous almost to the point of absurdity so as not to take any more points from Gryffindor. Nonetheless, Snape managed to find some flaw in the Gryffindors for even a perfect potion.

“Powdered root of a mandrake, ten milligrams,” Harry said. Ron measured it out on his balance and carefully poured it into the bubbling green liquid. Next came a ground bezoar, infusion of wormwood, and an iris petal. The potion simmered down to a purple slime, and Harry and Ron decided it was ready to be tested. Snape eyed their potion warily; Harry and Ron knew that he always looked at their potions like that whether the potions were brewed correctly or not, so they could infer nothing. Snatching a vial of bright pink ink from his desk, Snape strode over to Harry and Ron’s cauldron.

“Your potion should be able to turn this ink black. You are then to write a three-foot parchment on how this potion is so versatile,” he said with a growl. “Try it.” Ron pulled the stopper out of the vial and poured a few drops of their potion into the vial. Immediately, it started fizzing and bubbling.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to do that!” Ron said quickly. The potion rapidly burned a hole in the bottom of the vial and began eating away at the desk. Harry tried to move away, but the acidic potion had already found its way into his lap.

By this time, the whole class had their eyes on Harry. He let out a small gasp and gritted his teeth as the potion burned a hole into his leg. Thankfully, Snape pulled an antidote from his robes and halted the progression of the potion any further.

“As I said, this is a very unique and interesting potion,” Snape called out after a pouring a few drops of another ointment onto Harry’s. “Look down the ingredients list and the order in which they are put into the cauldron. Some of my brighter students”—he averted his eyes from Harry and looked at Draco—“should be able to see some very…singular aspects of a mistake in this potion.”

Almost immediately after glancing down, Hermione’s hand shot up, much to Blaise’s chagrin. Snape rolled his eyes, but after looking around the room, finally called on Hermione.

“It’s easy to see,” she said, trying to keep the slight arrogance out of her voice in Snape’s presence, “that leaving any ingredient out or putting one in out of order can be disastrous. I can see how from just one false move, you could end up with the Draught of Living Death, the Universal Antidote, or the Serum of Fire, which is what it seems like Harry and Ron created.” Her voice took on a lightly patronizing tone as she said Harry and Ron’s names.

Snape helped Harry bandage his wound before scolding him about being more careful. He took away ten points from Gryffindor for carelessness. Draco, however, didn’t smile his usual grin of satisfaction, Hermione noticed. In fact, it looked as if Draco was irked that Snape penalized Harry for burning his leg.

“What’s he up to?” Hermione thought to herself. “He’s not being the usual pain-in-the—”

“You are dismissed,” Snape shouted. “Get out before another one of you burns yourself. You may test your potions next week when we return.” Everyone hurriedly gathered their books and ran out of the room, the Gryffindors especially happy to be out of Snape’s dungeon.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked as soon as she was able to get to Harry.

“I’m fine,” Harry said, standing up tenderly. “Snape’s potion made it fine.”

“Fine, huh?” Hermione asked, an attitude of disbelieving making itself heard in her voice.

“What?” Harry asked. “You think I’d lie to you?”

“No,” Hermione said. “Not you, in particular. I know how guys think—you wouldn’t tell your girlfriend if you fell from the top of Westminster Abbey and broke every bone in your body because you wouldn’t want her to worry.” Harry rolled his eyes but smiled at Hermione. “That’s what I thought,” she said triumphantly. “Let’s get you to the common room before I have to hit Arithmancy.”

“I’m surprised Draco didn’t tease me about this,” Harry said when they were swiftly on their way to the Gryffindor tower. Hermione looked at him, glad that she wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“He actually looked a bit ruffled at Snape today. Sheesh, I thought I was seeing things, but apparently not,” Hermione sighed.

“Maybe he’s actually turning human,” Harry said, sounding more like Ron than himself.

“No,” Hermione replied, missing his jest, “I think something’s wrong. I don’t know. I still think he’s a heartless son of a—”

“Bitch.”

Hermione spun around to face Draco, who had snuck up silently behind her.

“I don’t remember asking you to follow us,” she said shortly, turning back toward the Gryffindor tower.

“I don’t remember asking you to describe me in such nasty words,” Draco said calmly. “I came to give you this, Potter.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a small vial. Harry took it cautiously with a small “thanks”, but he was hesitant to find out what was inside.

“Just use it, Potter,” Draco sighed impatiently. “It’s an ointment, but it’s more powerful than that stuff Snape gave you.”

“Why are you giving me this?” Harry asked warily. He really didn’t trust anything in a vial from Draco.

“Fine,” Draco said, reaching out to take the vial. Suddenly, though, he was hit by a bolt of lightning and pinned to the wall behind him. He let out a surprised gasp as he saw Hermione with her wand pointed at him.

“I’m tired of your games, Malfoy,” she sneered. “You get away from my boyfriend with your stupid antics or I’ll curse you straight back to your first year.” Having sensed silence and an air of defeat from Malfoy, she continued angrily. “What are you up to, Malfoy? What’s your new game?”

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Ahhh, the plot thickens! I’ll have the next chapter up tomorrow, for those of you who really care to read. See? I actually have a plot now! Not just mindless sex! (Ah, damn…lol) Please review!

A/N: Well, that was quite a long “tomorrow,” wasn’t it? Sorry, everyone, but school is now unofficially over for me! I’ve finished my last assignment of the year, and my other big project is over. (This project inspired my next story that I’ll probably be working on while I’m finishing this one, lol. It was also partly inspired by a songfic called “A Little Fall of Rain” that I could SWEAR was here on Portkey, but I can’t find it here anymore…it had the lyrics to the song without Eponine and Marius’ names…if you can find it, tell me, please…)

So now here’s chapter 6. Oh, and the reviews!

Clair: Hmm, Hermione did change a bit that chapter…She’ll be more fluffy in this chapter, I think.

Hermione and Harry 4Ever: Too short? Hehe…Working on length, lol. Draco starts to talk this chapter, so hold on!

Janie: Aww, you poor thing…I was enjoying the mindless sex, too, but, oh well.

Kat: Thank you for understanding my life. I go to a rigorous math and science academy thingy, so I don’t get much of a chance to write. The year’s almost over, though!

MissLexiRe: Thanks for the luck… ::catches luck from air :: I need it, lol.

Clyde: LOL, you reviewed all five chapters…not a bad thing ;) This story is going to be over 25 chapters; I have a plot map somewhere here, but I’m too lazy to find it.

Caroline and TB Jab Hurts: There will be plenty more where this came from. Please keep reading!

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Chapter 6 ~ I Can See

“Is this how you thank people for kind deeds, Granger? You would never understand,” Draco said coldly. “Just leave me be, Granger, and I’ll leave you be.” The usual menacing tone of his voice was gone; he truly just wanted to be alone.

“What do you mean, leave you alone?” Harry asked. “You’ve been very non-Draco-ish lately.”

“And you’re complaining…why? I expected you’d be happy that I’m not cursing you out at every opportunity,” he spat. “Quite frankly, I don’t have energy to waste on you, Potter. Especially on your Mudblood girlfriend and your poor-as-shit friend Weasley.” Draco was obviously forcing himself. His eyes looked tired; they had for weeks, and Harry was surprised that he had just now noticed the stress in Draco’s voice. “Just let me go. Now.” Hermione chose to ignore that he’d called her a Mudblood again, as well as the fact that he’d used a naughty four-letter word in describing Ron.

“Something’s up, Malfoy. Tell us, or we get to see the amazing bouncing ferret again,” Hermione hissed. Harry was getting scared of Hermione; he’d never seen her this angry before. “You have until the count of three.

“One.” Draco sighed offhandedly.

“Two.” Harry pulled his wand out to emphasize Hermione’s point—as if it needed any more emphasis with her wand pointed straight in Malfoy’s face while he was in a body bind.

“Fine,” Draco said only moments before Hermione was about to say, “three”. “My father wants me to be a Death Eater. Happy now?” He glared at him, his silver eyes like fire. They seemed to emit an unearthly, hoary glow in the dim corridor.

“He wants a scout on the inside, huh?” Harry asked uncomfortably; Voldemort’s servants had indeed become more faithful over the summer. He wondered why Dumbledore acted as though nothing was wrong at the beginning of the year. There was no mention of the “old crowd”, which he’d mentioned as Harry lay in the infirmary the previous year. In fact, Dumbledore didn’t even let on that there was such a person as Voldemort—unless one decided to address him directly, of course. But why ask Dumbledore when they had a perfectly willing participant pinned to the cold stone wall?

“Speak, boy,” Hermione commanded shortly. Harry almost laughed at the way her stone demeanor at that moment hid her true inner nature. Not wanting to ruin the tension of the moment, which was acting much to their advantage, Harry gazed steadily on Draco’s mutinous face. “You’d better hope Filch doesn’t find his way up here. Slytherins patrolling the halls around Gryffindor Tower aren’t very well accepted around here, and I’m sure Filch would be happy to see your punishment is just.”

“I’ll take that back for her,” Harry said icily. “You’d better hope Filch does come up here, because nothing he could ever do to you would be worse than what Hermione’s got on her mind.”

“What the hell do you want from me, then?” Draco hissed. Now that he’d realized the possibility of being found, he was being more cautious about his volume.

“I want to know which part of being a Death Eater means being nicer to Harry.”

“I’m not a Death Eater.”

“Don’t play games with me,” Hermione said, bringing her wand within an inch of his face.

“I’m not. I said my father wants me to be a Death Eater. I’d prefer tormenting you from afar to killing you, quite frankly.” Harry didn’t know whether he should find that comforting or unsettling. “Stop looking at me like that, Potter.”

“Hey,” Hermione said, her wand unwavering, “I’m the one giving orders here.” The tone of her voice hadn’t changed, and Harry didn’t doubt that she’d curse him out—in both the verbal sense and the magical sense of the expression, as un-Hermione-like as that would be. Since she’d fallen in love with Harry, she’d changed—a lot. Harry couldn’t recall a time when it showed as much as at that moment.

Draco sighed impatiently. He was scared, but he didn’t want to show it.

“Maybe you should let up a little bit,” Harry said gently to Hermione, resting his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. Hermione looked at Harry while trying to suppress her anger. Her gaze carried with it remnants of her rage, which, although it was directed at Draco, still saturated her eyes even as she turned to Harry.

“Harry,” she said, not knowing what to say, “I don’t trust him. You know I don’t, and you know why I don’t.”

“But that’s no reason to have him like this. Please, Hermione,” Harry said gently, almost inaudibly. He put his hand on hers, and she slowly lowered her wand. She didn’t break her stare from Harry’s, emphasizing that this wasn’t what she wanted to do.

“Understand,” she said in a whisper so that only Harry could hear, “that I’m doing this only because you requested it of me.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered in reply. Quite frankly, Harry didn’t mind if Hermione bashed Draco’s skull in; he would have done it himself, given the chance. Harry just worried about the ramifications of such an action.

“Are you two going to leave me out of your conversation and just let me die here, or are you going to do something?” Draco spat from the wall.

“Draco,” Harry said, surprised that he actually used Draco’s first name, “what reason do we have to believe that you’re not a Death Eater? We should be heading off to Dumbledore’s right now, just in case you’re—”

“NO!” Draco shouted. “No, you can’t.”

“And why not?” Hermione said curtly.

“Because that’s the last bloody thing I need right now, Granger. You have no idea what that bastard of a father did to me…” Draco’s eyes glazed over just thinking about what a painful experience his summer had been. His face took on a faraway look, and Harry had to stomp his foot to drag Draco from his reverie.

“What do you mean, what he did to you?” Hermione asked skeptically.

“Have you ever seen the manor before?” he asked coldly. “Pray that you never have to. If I hadn’t known it as home since I was born, I wouldn’t want to live there. I swear there are still ghosts there, tortured to death in the dungeons in days gone by. The Malfoy name carries things other than gold and prestige, you know.

“One of those things involves being devoted to…him. Turns out that my father, my mother, and all of their relatives succumbed to Voldemort’s power within weeks of his rise. That leaves quite a large pair of shoes for me to fill, don’t you think?”

“I have no idea what it’s like being a Malfoy,” Hermione said shortly, “but if it involves being like you, I don’t want to know.”

“You just don’t get it, do you, Granger?” Draco said, exasperated. “Pray that you never have to spend a night alone in those dungeons, hoping with all your heart that whatever malevolent specters still remain don’t steal your soul during the night. You think you have it bad? Try being me.” A long silence ensued. Hermione was drinking in Draco’s words, still skeptical of his situation. Harry, after having heard enough, broke the silence.

“Finite Incantatem,” he said silently. Draco fell to the floor, his body weak from having been pressed against the wall so powerfully. He raised his head to glare at Hermione before standing and brushing himself off. He cast cursory glances at Harry and Hermione before walking off in a huff.

“Go on ahead,” Harry said to Hermione. “I want to talk to Malfoy.” Hermione looked up at him, hesitant to let him go. She finally nodded and walked quickly to the Fat Lady’s portrait.

Running as quickly as he could, Harry caught Draco as he stepped onto a moving staircase. The flight shifted just as Harry had stepped onto it, much to Harry’s relief. Draco turned to see Harry behind him as he stepped off onto a landing.

“What the bloody hell are you doing following me, Potter?” he called out tiredly without turning to face Harry.

“I…I wanted to apologize,” Harry stammered. Whatever Draco had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. Draco stopped dead in his tracks and spun around on his heel. He looked Harry straight in the eyes.

“What did you say?” he asked incredulously.

“I said I’m sorry…about what just happened,” Harry said, calmly. He was almost shaking; he never thought he’d be apologizing, of all things, to a Malfoy. “We shouldn’t have done that. I appreciate that you were trying to help.”

Draco only stared at Harry, a combination of curiosity and confusion clouding his expression.

“Why are you apologizing? That was the least I deserved, I suppose, after the way I’ve tormented you.”

“Why are you getting all soft all of a sudden?” Harry asked.

Draco chuckled uneasily. “After you’ve spent two months in a dungeon being tortured by your father, you really don’t need any more pain in your life, be it received or dealt.”

“I can’t believe he’d do that to you,” Harry said in disbelief.

“You’ve seen what he’s like,” Draco said with candor, his eyes unwavering. “Remember back in our second year, when you set Dobby free?” Harry nodded slowly, trying to recall that afternoon. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Your father was about to cast a spell on me, and Dobby stopped him,” Harry said, trying to sum up what he remembered.

“That wasn’t just a spell, Potter. He tried to kill you. But then again,” Draco said thoughtfully, “if you’ve survived Avada Kedavra once, you must have been able to survive it twice.”

“You mean he…” Harry drifted off, the stark realization hitting him in his gut. If Lucius Malfoy would kill Harry Potter—not just any twelve-year-old boy, but the Harry Potter—in the Hogwarts corridors only a few yards from Dumbledore’s office, what was he capable of doing to his own son?

“Good Merlin,” Harry whispered.

“Forget about it,” Draco said. “If nobody can tell, they don’t have to know. That means I don’t want any of this going around. If I find that anyone knows about this, I will curse you straight through the stone walls of this castle.”

Harry nodded uneasily. He felt horrible that Draco had to endure such at home; Harry had had to take the Dursleys’ insults and abuse, but they were only Muggles. What if he’d been subjected to the same thing Draco had? Certainly, he wouldn’t have been The Boy Who Lived for long.

“Good night, Harry,” Draco said quickly, turning to go to the Slytherin rooms.

“Good night, Draco,” Harry replied.

Harry watched Draco walk off and thoughtfully turned back to the Gryffindor tower. Hermione would doubtlessly be interested to know what had happened, but she’d still be horribly skeptical of Draco. Ron would think Harry was insane for even talking to Draco like a decent human being. Perhaps he was, but Harry was only doing what he felt was right.

Right on cue, Ron ran up to Harry the moment he was inside the portrait hole.

“What the blasted bloody blazes were you thinking, Harry?” he hissed. “No, I’ll take that back. Were you thinking?” Harry sighed before explaining everything. Ron still had that look on his face that made Harry laugh inside, but he let Harry at least get through the portrait hole all the way.

He walked over to the fire and lazily threw himself onto a sofa. A startled cry made him jump up in a heartbeat; he looked down and saw Hermione where he’d just sat.

“I’m so sorry!” he said, sitting down next to her and putting his arms around her.

“I am, too,” Hermione said.

“What? Oh…that. Look, I understand why you did what you did. Forget about it.”

Hermione smiled at him before burying her face in his chest. Harry rested his chin on her silky brown hair, thankful that he had someone like Hermione. He didn’t like relying on people, but he felt it was mutual between them.

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered.

“For what?” Harry asked.

“For stopping me before I did something stupid. And for being my lover.”

Harry smiled. “The first, I did because I had to. I love you because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Hermione smiled warmly back at him, pulling back from Harry’s chest to look at his beautiful emerald eyes. They reflected the firelight into hers, illuminating her dark, hazel eyes for Harry to see.

He realized he’d never noticed how beautiful Hermione really was. He’d loved her, in the beginning, because she was intelligent, witty, brave, and loyal, not to mention that she was the best friend he’d ever had, aside from Ron. But now that he looked at her in the shimmering light of the fire, her eyes seemed to light up with a glow straight from heaven, and her hair seemed to him the softest thing in the world.

“What are you thinking about?” Hermione asked, seeing the pensive look on Harry’s face.

“Thinking about what I can see that I couldn’t before,” he said gently. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Hermione said, wrapping her arms tightly around Harry’s body. “I never want to let you go.”

“You’ll never have to,” Harry replied, feeling the gentleness of her touch around him. At that moment, Harry knew that if nothing else on Earth was meant to be, he was meant to be in Hermione’s arms, and she in his.

~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you all like it! I’ll try to have the next chapter up tomorrow. Bye for now! Please review!

A/N: Noooo, I’m losing readers! That’s cuz I don’t post much, lol. Well, here’s chapter 7. This one’s gonna be interesting.

Clyde: Yeah, I’m quite ambitious…I just have to actually write all the chapters I say I will, lol.

*Sophie*: Feel sorry for Draco? Eh, not exactly what I was aiming for, but ok :)

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Chapter 7 ~ The Shadows of Death

For the next few weeks, Draco left Harry, Ron, and Hermione alone, and they reciprocated the action…or lack thereof. If it weren’t for the constant reminder that Malfoys hated Potters and Potters hated Malfoys by nature, no one would ever have known, just looking at them, that they were more friends than enemies.

Even Hermione seemed to be getting along quite well with Draco. She’d helped him out with an astronomy essay he’d had to write (astronomy wasn’t his forte, but Hermione always found the stars perpetually fascinating), and since she had no need for help in school, he’d helped Harry in return with a potions assignment for Snape. All in all, things were going quite well.

“’Lo, Harry,” Draco called as he saw Harry walking down the hall.

“Good morning,” Harry said. He still was somewhat uncomfortable with what was going on (or what was not going on), but a few weeks’ time had made most of his fears and skepticism subside. They passed each other, both going to different classes, with half-smiles on their faces.

That night, in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione confronted Harry about the situation with Draco.

“Harry, I know he seems better, but what if he lied to us? What if he really is a Death Eater and he’s just trying to win your confidence?”

“Hermione,” Harry said tersely, “even Draco can’t lie that well. I know kindness when I see it, especially after living with the Dursleys for so long.”

“But Harry,” Hermione sighed, “you must admit that this is very different. I wouldn’t take it as casually as you are.”

“Haven’t you ever considered that all he needed was a few friends? I mean, I know how it is to be a loner…” Harry glanced downward, remembering how bad his childhood had been.

“What about Crabbe and Goyle?” Hermione asked, a bit piqued.

“Hermione, I don’t think they can even spell friend.” This elicited a small laugh from Hermione, but regaining her usual composure, it was followed by a stern glare. “Oh, come on,” Harry urged.

“Fine,” Hermione said. “For once, I suppose you’re right…”

“That’s better,” Harry said. He reached out to wrap his arms around Hermione, but she beat him to it.

“But I’m right from now on,” she said, breathing in his warm scent.

“Oh, fine,” Harry sighed. He pulled Hermione closer to his chest.

“Bloody hell,” they both heard from the stairway. They broke apart and turned just in time to see Ron, who was just walking down the steps into the common room from the dormitories, rolling his eyes and turning to go back to the dorms. “Not again,” he sighed, shaking his head at them as he left.

“Ron,” Harry yelled, “I think we need to get you a girlfriend, too!” All they heard was a loud “HAH!” of disbelief from the stairwell as Ron disappeared.

“Who did you have in mind?” Hermione asked him in jest.

“I dunno,” Harry said innocently. Hermione could tell he wasn’t telling her something, but she really didn’t want to know. “It’s okay, Ron,” Harry called out, “We’re not…” Hermione stopped him before he gave any incriminating evidence.

Ron came trudging down the stairs with a wary glance around the corner before he stepped into the common room.

“Would you two at least warn me before you lose your little vir—” He was cut off by a large slap from Hermione. “Fine, then. Just let me walk in on you like that and scar my poor, innocent mind.”

Hermione muttered something that sounded remarkably like “bullshit”, but neither Harry nor Ron heard her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione talked long into the night. Since the events of the Triwizard Tournament, they hadn’t had shared in their usual banter in the evenings. They conversed in mirth until the moon’s silver rays shone through the tall windows of the common room before retiring into their four-posters.

Draco, Harry, Ron, and Hermione actually struck up an acceptable camaraderie throughout the next week. No snide comments passed between the two parties, and they even helped each other out in their weaker subjects.

Draco hadn’t completely won Harry over. Harry was still wary, despite Draco’s half-smiles that he returned as they passed each other. He could see that his feelings were reciprocated; Hermione was the only one who really jumped right into friendship with her former enemy. Even Ron was keeping his distance to some extent, though Draco had helped him come up with some rather gruesome deaths for Trelawney’s latest assignment.

One morning, though, Professor McGonagall came into the common room before breakfast to announce a trip to Hogsmeade for the day. Apparently, it wasn’t planned, but Snape, Flitwick, Trelawney, Vector, and Sinistra had been called away to the Ministry of Magic on a sudden meeting (from what Harry heard from McGonagall, it was something about a new standard of some sort). They hadn’t planned to go, so no substitute teachers were able to be instated in time for their leave. In need of a way to occupy the students, the teachers sent them off to Hogsmeade for the day.

Harry recalled that this would be the first time they’d gone to Hogsmeade using a legitimate form of transportation—no invisibility cloak, no hidden passages, just the Hogwarts carriages. The carriages were painted a lush purple and had, of course, the Hogwarts coat of arms in about half a dozen places.

The three climbed in easily. After reaching the station at Hogsmeade, their first stop was the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta was happy as ever to see some familiar faces from Hogwarts, and gave them three drinks on the house.

“Hey,” Ron said to Harry after a long sip of butterbeer, “isn’t that Malfoy over there?” Harry and Hermione followed his gesture, and saw that it was, in fact, Draco, sitting alone in a corner, as Crabbe and Goyle hadn’t been able to go on the basis of bad marks.

Hermione, seeing that Harry and Ron had no intention of doing so, got up and invited Malfoy to sit with them. He vacillated for a moment before deciding to join them. Ron good-naturedly pulled up a chair from an empty table beside them and motioned for Draco to sit there.

“Thanks,” he said quietly as he sat down.

“Draco,” Ron said, “nobody’s going to put you under the Cruciatus curse just because you’re sitting with us.” Until Ron’s comment, Draco had been slouching in a way that he looked as though he was afraid someone would spot him with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He smiled uneasily and sat up.

“So how’s life been?” Harry asked, trying to start some small talk.

“A real bitch,” Draco replied with candor. Harry chuckled.

“I know the feeling.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’ve never been that close to a dementor before, but I’m sure it must be worse than having you father beating the life out of you in the dungeons.” Harry wasn’t sure if Draco was speaking honestly or with sarcasm; his words spoke of the latter, but his tone of voice was honest and calm. His silver eyes remained focused on the table.

“Come on, Draco,” Hermione said warmly, resting her hand on Draco’s. Her eyes met Harry’s with an expression clearly asking for help. “Cheer up.”

“I’m sure we could get that witch Kelly from Hufflepuff to lay you down on a bed and beat you,” Harry said. “Might be at least a little more pleasant.” Draco looked up, quite amused.

“I hope you’re not talking about the same Hufflepuff Kelly that I’m thinking of,” he said.

“I don’t know,” Harry said mischievously. “I mean the sexy one with black hair.” Hermione shot a warning glance at Harry, which Draco caught while looking up. He burst into laughter.

“Jealous, are you?” he asked her jokingly. Hermione shot him a similar look, and he silenced rather quickly. “At least you have a proper wand. I’d like to know where the bloody hell she got hers—it looks like a lead pipe.”

“I’d never have thought,” Ron mused in a voice loud enough for Draco to hear, “Draco Malfoy, wanting to get his hands on Kelly’s wand…” Even Hermione had to suppress a giggle at Ron’s antics.

They continued, laughing all the while, up until the minute came when the last carriage to Hogwarts was ready to depart. The four of them occupied it alone, so they finally said their good-nights in the hallways of the castle.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down to the Great Hall together the next morning. Hermione had herself a small bowl of cereal and Harry helped himself to hotcakes and sausage, while Ron helped himself to hotcakes, cereal, sausage, bacon, Canadian bacon, biscuits and gravy, eggs cooked five different ways, and three cups of coffee with cream and sugar.

As Harry ate, he looked around, taking in the grandeur of the Hall as he waited for the morning post. His gaze fell upon every crevice of the room. When he turned his attention back to the absence of the owls, he realized that he felt something was missing. He brought his eyes around the room once more.

When his eyes fell once more upon the Slytherin table, he noticed what drew his attention—or rather, didn’t draw his attention. The loud presence of Draco Malfoy was gone; there were no steel-gray eyes or moonlight-silver locks of hair to adorn the smug face of Slytherin’s self-named “prince”.

“Where’d Malfoy go?” Harry asked no one in particular. Hearing his comment, Hermione turned to look. Confirming that Draco was, in fact, absent, she was just as curious as Harry, although she decided to present a few hypotheses.

“Probably still in the common room. Maybe he wasn’t feeling up to coming this morning.”

“Or he might be plotting my death,” Harry mumbled. He must have mumbled just loud enough for Hermione and Ron to hear, because Hermione gave him a light smack, and Ron joked about how Harry should be used to people potting his death, what with Trelawney and her bunch.

“You still don’t trust him?” Hermione asked rhetorically. She shook her head and went back to eating her cereal.

But Hermione’s suspicions that Draco was absent only from breakfast were settled once they got to double potions with the Slytherins. Draco was unmistakably absent, as Snape admitted, obviously stunned by Draco’s leave of absence without notification.

Harry, even though he still didn’t trust Draco, was a little disappointed that he’d left just as they were getting somewhere; he was beginning to realize that maybe Potters and Malfoys weren’t born to hate each other. But where on Earth did Draco get off to?

~~~~~~~~~~

Hmm…It was interesting writing a chapter in which Draco wasn’t endlessly tormenting everyone. It seemed kinda boring to me…do any of you think so? I tried to combine a bit of a normal school lifestyle into the story while keeping a bit of a suspicious and suspenseful air…hehehe… Please review!

A/N: Okay, should I feel guilty? I have no idea, haha. Well, this is the last chapter I have written right now. I’ve had all 8 chapters of this posted at FanFiction.Net for…who knows how long now, lol. Yes, I’ve been holding out on you, but it’s because I wanted to post this like a normal fic, not all at once. But I promise, no more of that!

On a side note before I respond to reviews, I’ve been doing a lot of good reading lately. If you want to go check it out (no, I’m not being asked to advertise, I just think they’re REALLY good stories), there’s “Soul Scepter” by Ryoko Blue (plus the sequel, WIP), “Fire and Ice” by Just Silver (plus the sequels—the threequel is a WIP), and “These Thorns that Bind Us” by BloodVelvet (WIP). The last two are slash, so…be warned, lol. The slash ones are on FanFiction.Net since Portkey doesn’t take those ships, but Ryoko’s story is right here.

I’ve learned that I have to be a bit more random in my writing. That always seems to make it amusing. Really, don’t you think having a sexual attraction to broccoli just rocks? (Okay, Kelly, I’ll go take a cold shower, LOL).

So…that took forever. Thanks to all of you who reviewed chapter 7! Both of you, lol.

TimGold: Haha, you actually reviewed each chapter. Thanks! Ah, more fluff, always more fluff. Can’t get enough myself, but… I’ll try. Wait till the next chapter—there’s gonna be a whooooooooole lot!

Clyde: Thanks a lot! Haha, you’ve actually R/Red the whole thing, too. Enjoy this chapter!

Oh, and Foofie: You’re horrible. Happy birthday, though, LOL. How’s your shirt? ;)

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Chapter 8 ~ The Secret World of Our Dreams

“I have an announcement to make,” Dumbledore called out over the din of the Great Hall at dinner, “concerning recent events which, until this time, have not been able to be disclosed to the public.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up in anticipation; they knew, without even having spoken to Dumbledore about it yet, that this was about Malfoy. He’d been absent for a week, and despite their persistent badgering, the teachers refused to disclose any information.

“I wonder what he’s going to say?” Ron mused.

“First of all,” Dumbledore announced over the quickly quieting students, “some of you have been worried over the sudden disappearance of one of our Slytherin students. I would like to allay all fears that something has happened. A relative has fallen horribly ill, and his father came to take him out of school.”

“That’s nice to know,” Hermione said. “At least he wasn’t kidnapped or anything.”

“Too bad he wasn’t killed,” Ron joked. Hermione glared at him, and he argued that he was only joking.

“Second,” came Dumbledore’s booming voice again, “the pre-holiday trip to Hogsmeade will not be cancelled.” Apparently, he hadn’t conferred with the teachers on this matter. Hagrid seemed a bit happy, actually, but Professors Snape and McGonagall, among others, stared in disbelief at the headmaster. “I am of the opinion that the professors’ leave of absence was not your fault and that your usual holiday should not be taken away because you’ve already had one. There is no such thing as too much vacation,” he added with a slight smile. “That said, let’s eat!”

As the usual feast appeared throughout the Great Hall, the students’ voices rose once more into uncontrollable chatter discussing both of the matters Dumbledore had addressed.

“I can’t wait to go to Hogsmeade again!” Ron said. “Good thing Ginny can come this year, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry groaned. He had no particular problem with Ginny, but her ever-apparent crush on him seemed to haunt him in his sleep, especially now that he had Hermione.

“But we’re still not going until the week before Christmas, if I’m not mistaken,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

“And you never are,” Ron mumbled.

“Oh, do shut up,” Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. Harry shook his head and chuckled. The next few weeks would be interesting…

“RONALD WEASLEY, GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!”

Running down the stairs in alarm, Ron saw Hermione standing with her hands on her hips in the common room, steam almost literally coming out of her ears. The only thing more obvious about her appearance was that she no longer retained her pale pinkish skin tone. In fact, it seemed to be flashing every color except her natural skin tone.

“That looks good on you,” Ron said, trying desperately to stifle his giggles.

“Boys don’t giggle,” Hermione scolded him once more as a wave of blue washed over her skin. “I want you to reverse this charm immediately before you become a slug.”

“I can’t,” Ron laughed as Hermione turned a shade of bright orange. “Fred and George made those things, and they’re…indisposed at the moment.”

Glaring at him, Hermione was almost whispering in her rage. Of course, she wasn’t that mad at Ron, being as they were best friends and she knew how his mind worked, but she was still considerably unhappy. She looked down at her hands, which were leaking green hues up her arms. The never-ending wonders of Fred and George’s imaginations…

“Well, make them un-indisposed,” she hissed, “before I make them disposed.”

At that moment, Harry came down the stairs to see what the commotion was all about. Ron brushed briskly past him as he ran to find Fred and George somewhere in the dorms, still concocting more gags for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Upon seeing Hermione, Harry’s face first showed great alarm, but realizing that Ron had only given her one of the twins’ “treats”, he started laughing.

“Don’t you dare start laughing,” she said to him, “or you will be out of here like that.” She snapped her fingers to emphasize her point.

“Yes, Miss Delacour,” Harry mocked, remembering how Fleur had used the same phrase during the Yule Ball last year. “I don’t have anything to fear.”

“Oh, and what makes you think that? You’ll be out of my life in a heartbeat if you make one more comment about this,” she snapped. Harry shrugged.

“Empty threat,” he said nonchalantly. Hermione was fuming, but she was finding it difficult to stay angry at Harry for very long.

“You know me too well,” she sighed after a moment’s pause. “But I don’t want any more people to see me like this.”

Thinking hard, Harry said, “Have you tried using Finite Incantatem?”

“Of course,” Hermione said in her I’m-not-that-stupid tone of voice.

“Just checking,” Harry said, trying to calm her down. He went to her and put his arms around her waist. “That shade of red looks great on you, though,” he joked. Hermione’s smile quickly faded, and she brought her knee swiftly upward. Harry jumped back and put his hands straight to where Hermione’s knee went.

“Oh, my God,” he gasped, falling on the floor.

“Get up, you baby,” Hermione said patronizingly. “It can’t hurt that much.”

“You have no idea,” Harry said, still trying desperately to catch his breath. Suddenly, a smile came to his face, and he pulled Hermione down into his arms. “But you can kiss it and make it all better,” he hinted.

Hermione pushed herself out of his arms and glared down at him, but her face eventually faded into a smile. “As if you could ever get me into bed.” She turned and walked off as Harry got to his feet, his manhood still throbbing in pain.

“Wanna bet?” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Hermione turned around to face Harry.

“Nothing.” Hermione raised her eyebrow at him. She opened her mouth as though she was going to say something, but she thought better of it and shook her head. As she walked off, Harry bounced on his heels, trying desperately to alleviate the pain from Hermione’s “joking” strike. He quickly muttered a healing charm that reduced his pain. Harry sighed in relief and flung himself over the back of the sofa into its cushiony depths.

Harry woke up the next morning to see the fireplace in front of him. Realizing that he’d fallen asleep on the sofa once more, he quickly got up and ran to the dorms to grab some clean clothes before heading off to the bathroom to shower. He was lucky; it was already quite late in the morning, but he didn’t have Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws until eleven o’clock.

When Harry came out of the shower (he’d finally given up on his hair), Hermione was waiting in the common room for him when he returned. She had a book that Harry considered quite small for something that she was reading.

“What are you reading?” he asked as he came up behind her.

Without looking up, Hermione replied, “One of my favorites. It’s As I Lay Dying by William Faulker. He’s an American author, and his style is most intriguing.” Harry bent down and leaned on the back of the sofa to see what was “most intriguing” about this novel.

“What in the bloody name of the States is this? ‘My mother is a fish?’ What on Earth…” Hermione laughed out loud.

“Oh, it’s a horribly twisted book. Drilling holes in your mother’s face, dragging a rotting corpse for three weeks in a wooden wagon, getting it from the doctor who’s supposed to be giving you an abortion… It’s all very interesting.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Harry said, wondering why on Earth Hermione was reading this book.

“It’s a classic of American literature. You have no idea what you’re missing,” she insisted.

“I think I’d rather not know what I’m missing, thank you,” Harry said. Hermione was about to interject once more, but the clock above the fireplace chimed 10:30, and they decided that they should be off to McGonagall’s class.

They were supposed to be transfiguring mothballs into moths, but Ron, who ran into the classroom just as McGonagall began class, was not very happy because of his mottephobia. Nonetheless, he successfully turned two mothballs into Luna Moths, which he promptly disposed of with a muttering of “Incendio” when McGonagall had her back turned. As a puff of smoke rose from Ron’s desk and began wafting throughout the room with each successful transfiguration, McGonagall became slightly suspicious but refrained from saying anything.

Herbology with the Slytherins was unsettling. Crabbe and Goyle kept looking at each other as though they were lost without Malfoy. His absence made Harry, Ron, and Hermione confused; they were used to his jeering insults being thrown their way every few moments, and the tranquil atmosphere of the greenhouses was different but welcome.

“How is the Monk’s Hood coming, dears?” Professor Sprout asked. Her chubby, perky face appeared behind them. They’d each managed to collect quite a few leaves for Snape’s stores, as he said they were running a bit low, but the way the plants shrank back when you pulled a leaf off made Hermione queasy.

“It’s fine,” Ron replied. “Hermione’s getting a bit tweaked, though.”

Hermione blushed and stammered her arguments to Professor Sprout. “It just seems like we’re hurting them, what with the way they move away.”

“Don’t worry about it, child,” Professor Sprout said, putting her arm around Hermione. “They’d rather have a human do it than a wolf.”

“Yes,” Hermione said, her bookishness coming into full effect, “Wolf’s Bane is the canine equivalent of catnip: they’re attracted to it, but it has some rather…unpleasant effects if not used in moderation.” Professor Sprout smiled at Hermione’s extensive knowledge as she walked off to attend to other students.

Harry thought to himself what Draco would have said, had he been there. “Don’t hurt the poor plant, Mudblood. It’s probably afraid of just touching you more than losing a few leaves.” Harry felt the color rising to his cheeks as he thought about Malfoy, even with the slight truce they’d made. Where on Earth had Malfoy gone? When Dumbledore had addressed the students, Harry could tell that he didn’t completely believe Lucius’ reason for the withdrawal of his son.

And for some reason, whenever Harry had the feeling that Lucius was lying, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He ripped a leaf off of one of the Wolf’s Bane plants, causing it to jump out of the pot. What’s going on? Harry thought.

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Haha, well that’s a very nice chapter. Yeah, so Harry and Hermione kinda switched perspectives on Draco there for a while. I promise you’ll all enjoy chapter 9. I’ll give you a hint: Harry and Hermione go to Hogsmeade! And just for you, Clair, the chapter is pissing me off because I can’t find a good place to cut/stop, so it’s 5000 words and nowhere NEAR done. So if it takes a while, my apologies to you all. Go read Heaven’s stories if you get bored, lol. She’ll appreciate it. So PLEASE review and tell me what you think! I’ll have chapter 9 up ASAP…which, knowing me, lol…

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Oh, and I just had the most interesting convo with one of my friends, and I just had to share it with you.

Her: So what is your favorite color?

Me: Hey, that’s not a fair question.

Her: Why not?

Me: Technically, leopard-print isn’t a color.

Eh, she’s even hornier than I am, but my fav color really is blue, lol. I just like messin with her sometimes. If any of you want to AIM me, I’d be honored—my AIM is the same as my penname.