Lovesong

tearsofher

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 22/04/2004
Last Updated: 22/04/2004
Status: in_progress

Harry's never understood love songs. until, of course, he falls in love himself. oneshot- harry/hermione

Chapters

1. lovesong

1. lovesong

Lovesong

Disclaimer: don't own the characters, just the plot. The title is from the song, `Lovesong' by The Cure.

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

To all of you who had not a single clue about what those sappy love songs meant before you actually fell in love. To all those love songs that made us long for someone too. And, even, to that one love song that made you realize that he was the one.

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

Harry Potter had never had a single bloody clue as to what all those love songs meant. Someone pining over the one they longed for- so what? What made that one person so special? Why couldn't they just move on to another person? He just didn't get it.

He had heard those love songs blaring from the Dursley's kitchen when his Aunt Petunia was left all alone, cleaning the kitchen while his uncle and pig cousin were out playing golf. Even in the confines of his small cupboard, he heard it loud and clear. It was turned up loud on the radio, but what was unfortunate was that he heard the screeching, which he guessed his Aunt considered singing, along with it. It was absolutely horrible. But that didn't mean he didn't actually listened to the words.

Mostly it was someone saying how much they longed the other in their arms, or how they couldn't live without the other- it was pure nonsense, really. Absolute codswallop. It made him scrunch up his face, confused, just thinking about it. Mostly those songs did not even mention the word `love' in them, bringing up more questions to his raven-haired head as to why they were called love songs. But, he did know the affect they had on girls. He had seen Lavender and Pavarti a couple of times, just sitting in the common room, going teary-eyed over a song with a man whining about a girl he lost and how much he wanted her back. It made him chuckle with amusement, but made him wonder more about love songs and what girls saw in them.

It made him think about his crush on Cho Chang, years ago. It made barely any sense, since what he felt for her was not as intense as what they sang about in those songs. He did not long for her in his arms. He did not long to be with her every single moment. He did not feel as if she was `the one.' None of that at all. It was a just mere crush. That was it. But he felt as if that was the closest he would ever get to encountering the kind of `love' they sang and girls went and wept about in his life. At least, for now, anyway.

He had asked Hermione about it one day, and she was silent for a moment before responding. He had noticed that her cheeks were getting pinker and pinker with each word that had been uttered from her mouth.

“Well, I don't know, Harry,” she had said, flustered. “Girls just like stuff like that- romantic stuff. It's practically what we think and dream about everyday.” Harry raised his eyebrows at her.

“Really? Even you?” Hermione glanced at him, before smiling nervously and looking away. She sighed, not really comfortable talking about such things with Harry. But she thought that she might as well tell him; they were getting older, after all.

“Yes,” she said timidly. Harry grinned at her.

“Really? Well.. what do you dream, or, think about, then?” Hermione laughed nervously as he looked at her expectedly. He could see her blushing a deep red, avoiding his gaze. “Come on, Hermione,” he pleaded at her. “I really want to know. Besides, it might help in the future. You know, knowing what girls want and like..” Hermione glanced at him, and something flashed in her eyes, but was gone before he could recognize it. She sighed.

“Well, I think about,” she paused and sighed softly again. “Him,” she faltered. She looked at him, her eyes cloudy and dark. “Whenever he might come, whoever he may be.” She turned her gaze away from him as she looked ahead. “What he might say to me, how I might feel.. those butterflies in your stomach and that feeling that people often talk about so much.. you know, they say it's the greatest feeling in the world. Being in love.” Harry stared at her, watching her as she stared ahead. The light did something, flickered across her face while the shadows tried to dominate at the same time. He could feel an odd flapping in his stomach get stronger as she turned and looked at him. She smiled, turning a bit red.

“I know it's odd,” she said quietly, “hearing this kind of stuff from a girl like me. The bookworm, the know-it-all,” she sighed. “But I'm really not that different from most girls. I want what they want; love. That perfect guy,” she smiled to herself faintly. “People don't really think to notice that about me. That I'm just like everyone else.” Harry noticed how her deep brown eyes seemed lighter, almost golden like, as they glittered. He could see that the light was somehow trapped in them, and he felt a waving sensation in his stomach. He couldn't take his eyes off her. There was silence, before she noticed that he was looking at her strangely.

“Harry?” she asked. “Are you alright?” Harry snapped out of his trance when her eyes looked at him with concern. He smiled, feeling warmth blanket his cheeks.

“I'm-uh-fine. I just got to thinking, that's all.” She raised her hand to tuck a stray curl behind her hair, and he noticed how her hair seemed really soft, her deep brown hair cascading down her shoulders.

“Thinking about what?” she asked him. He was finally able to tear his eyes away from her, trying to figure out that odd feeling in his stomach as he stared into the fire.

“Nothing important,” he told her. She nodded, looking at him, before turning her gaze to the fire also.

Of course, that had helped a little bit. At least now he had a clue as to why girls went for love songs. But he couldn't help, over the past few days, but feel that same, odd fluttering feeling in his stomach every time she was around him. And, his heart, for some reason, started beating harder when she smiled at him. And too often he found himself staring at her in class when he should be taking notes. He could never bring himself to tear his eyes off of her, until Ron elbowed him in the rib or a Professor called on him. Even Hermione noticed something unusual going on with him. She had asked him, with her eyebrows furrowed with concern, one day after class, if there was something wrong with him. And maybe, perhaps, if something was bothering him.

Right away, he wanted to blurt out that something had been on his mind too frequently that he could not focus on anything else- her. But he thought about how reckless and foolish that would be, so he just shook his head and told her that he was just tired. She looked at him, unconvinced, before smiling slightly and turning back to walking and trying to pack in her Transfiguration book in her bag at the same time. He watched her, completely unaware of the massive crowd until he bumped into a Ravenclaw and her friends.

Late at night, he could not think of anything else besides his brown-haired best friend. He would lay awake, his hands behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling. The ceiling was bare, and mostly it was so dark you could not see a single thing, but he saw her. He saw her. Her and her deep brown eyes that made his heart stop, her breath taking smile. He had never stop to think about her as anything more than a friend, until now. But coming across that thought, his eyes widened.

She was his best friend. Hermione Granger. That bossy, bushy-haired girl that he had first met on the train. She had been there for him, comforting him, standing up and taking his side without hesitating once. She had always been there for him; even at situations that couldn't have been more complicated or complex, she took his side. Because she trusted him. In those times when he felt as if he let everyone down, or when he had hurt Ron and everyone he could possibly think of- even her- she sat down beside him and told him that it wasn't his fault. Even though they both knew inside that it truly was. She said that she'd never leave him, no matter what, and that he could never drive her away, no matter what he did. He had tried to drive them all away once, including her. He had said hurtful words, scared to death that Voldemort would hurt them.

But she stayed by his side. Because she had faith in him. She believed that he could defeat him, even when he himself was in doubt. And not once had he thanked her. Not once when she started to walk away when people cheered him on and pushed her out. Not once had he comforted her back, or took her side whenever her and Ron had an argument. Harry groaned, mentally slapping himself.

How could he be so dense? How had he never thought to thank her? How could he, after all these years, take her for granted? How? How had he managed to let that slip? How come she hadn't become angry with him, or let him know? He sighed, thinking of her again.

Because she was Hermione. She wasn't selfish; not like him. She cared about him too much to ever bring up all those times she stood by him whenever he sided with Ron in their arguments. Instead she would just look at both of them, Ron with a glittering glare, and him.. Harry could feel something crumble inside him as he thought of before.

He couldn't believe he never took it in consideration. He couldn't believe that he had never taken her into consideration. She had looked at him so sadly and disappointedly that thinking about it, now, made him want to pound his head on the wall over and over and over and over and over again.

Until he thought it was equivalent to the pain he caused her. Or until he was knocked out and could not make his brain function to think any longer. But until then, he would just keep pounding his head against the firm, solid, cement wall.

He thought himself a fool. A massive, grade-A, dense idiot.

Why was it only now that he realized this? Why was it only now that he realized that he had feelings for Hermione? If he had known, he wouldn't be beating himself so hard about it now. He would've been nicer to her, bought her more books every time they went to Hogsmeade, sided with her on her arguments with Ron.. Maybe even did some of that romantic stuff she had been talking about. Flowers, romantic love songs.. Just something to let her know that he was truly sorry for all those times before- back when he was a brain dead ratbag.

And that he thought that she was the prettiest girl at Hogwarts. Maybe he could've slipped that somewhere along in his speech.

But of course, that was pretty much hopeless now. He had not prepared a speech to say to her, confessing his feelings and telling her of her astounding beauty in his eyes. Or that he was always thinking about her, and that even when he did fall asleep, he fell asleep thinking of her and eventually ended up dreaming of her. There was no escaping her.

He did have that constant debate with his conscience whether it was right to have feelings- that kind of feelings- for his best friend. True, he had not really considered that she was a girl before fourth year, but it was so different now. He was really seeing her for what she really was- though there had been a few times where he would just look at her and think she was really, really pretty whilst they were studying or she was reading and Ron was taking too long to make a move while playing Wizard's Chess. He had thought that she was pretty, even before. But now.. He didn't think that `pretty' even summed it up. She was more than `pretty' in his eyes.

She was beautiful. Breathtaking. He grinned. That was more like it. It was certainly true; she did take his breath away. If only she knew.

He closed his eyes slowly, as he felt weariness spread through his body dully, but powerful. It was like a lullaby, almost.. Or a creeping drug. And soon, he was off to dreamland.

Where he was only to dream of her once again.

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

A few weeks later, Harry, Hermione and Ron were at breakfast. Hermione was reading while nibbling on her piece of her toast, Harry trying with all his force not to watch and stare at her, sitting right next to her- he discovered that sitting next to her was dangerous on most occasions, for she often caught him staring and that he could not focus on anything but her. And, if he sat close enough, he could smell her. Like a faint trace of vanilla swirled with fragrant lavender. He had never thought someone could smell so good.- And Ron, shoveling down incredulous amounts of food in his mouth with no sign of slowing down or stopping.

Little did Harry know that Ron was not only stuffing himself like a pig, but watching him as Harry gave in and taken to watching Hermione. Ron took a sip of his pumpkin juice as he halted, his eyes still on Harry and where his gaze was pointed. Ron grinned, as he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his robe. He could not help but be amused and chuckle at the situation- also at his two friends. They could really be dense when they were hopeless- at least, when they thought they were. Because Hermione, for instance, watched Harry when he was not watching her. And Harry watched Hermione when she was not watching him.

They were both so blind to what was staring them right in the face. Ron snorted, as Hermione turned the page. Harry's gaze had still not wavered from the brown-haired girl sitting next to him. It was almost hysterical, considering Harry could not really stop watching her and already had two detentions for doing so.

He looked desperate. Like a love-struck fool. He sighed, as he picked up his spoon once again. Love did strange things to people. Especially to people like Harry and Hermione. But come to think of it, they were perfect for each other.

But as Ron was about to stick his spoon in his mouth, he had an idea. Just something to make sure that Harry really had it bad for Hermione. It could do no harm.

He put down the spoon.

“Hermione, you know, it is quite rude to read at the table. Especially during meals.” Hermione looked up, and as soon as she did, Harry did too.

“What, Ron?” she asked. Harry looked at Ron suspiciously.

“I said, it's quite rude to read at the table during meals. Have you got no manners at all, Hermione?” Hermione stared at him, before closing her book.

“I don't think you know what manners are, Ron,” she said.

“Oh, witty, Hermione,” he said sarcastically. “Real witty.” Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

“You don't have a clue about manners, Ron, so I advise you to lecture your reflection before lecturing me about manners, you insolent pi-“

“I wouldn't go as low as to calling someone a pig, Hermione. Now that's not very nice, is it?”

“What are you on?” she asked, annoyed.

“Just simply reminding you about your manners.” She raised an eyebrow at him, before snorting.

“Manners. Since when has anyone taught you about manners?”

“My mum taught me about manners, Hermione.”

“Obviously, it came in one ear and out the other.”

“Are you insulting my mother's teaching skills, Hermione? Ooh, I wouldn't-“

“Ron,” said Harry, cutting in. “It isn't really all that rude for Hermione to be reading. I mean, she's not disturbing anyone, is she?” There was silence, as they both stared at Harry. Harry could feel the tips of his ears turning pink; wishing that one of them would say something. Ron grinned widely.

`Got you,' Ron thought.

“Fine, Harry. Take Hermione's side. She's a bit on the losing side, isn't she? I understand. Helping the underdog. Pretty slick, Harry. Pretty slick.” Hermione's annoyance began to show through. She glared at him, her eyes turning into slits.

“Ronald Weasley,” she said through gritted teeth, “don't you dare-“

“Ron, that wasn't fair,” Harry snapped. “Just because I'm disagreeing with you doesn't mean you have to call her the underdog. Besides, what you're saying is ridiculous; she's not bothering anyone. And there isn't even a bloody rule about reading at the table. Why can't you leave her alone?” Hermione's mouth closed robotically. She stared at Harry, stunned, as Ron looked at him with amusement twinkling in his blue eyes. There was silence, as laughter rang out from Seamus and Dean a couple of seats down from them. Harry avoided Hermione's eyes as she stared at him in disbelief. Ron scoffed at Harry, still smiling. Harry glowered at him.

“Harry,” Hermione said, flabbergasted. “You-“

“You really shouldn't let him get to you all the time, Hermione,” he said, interrupting her. She looked at him, noticing that he was avoiding her eyes. He was turning slightly pink, sensing her gaze on him. “You're really smart, and Ron's just looking for someone to toy around with, and I really don't like it when you two get angry with each other over a stupid little argument.” Hermione stared at him, as Ron watched the both of them curiously, as a wide smile spread across her face. Harry looked up, mesmerized by her smile but confused at what she found so funny.

“Harry,” she said, still smiling, “I was just going to say that.. well, to thank you, actually.” She moved her hand to his arm, and he felt warmth erupt through his arm from her touch, although she had only touched the fabric of his robes. She squeezed, as her brown eyes glittered. “And that you're right, it is stupid.” She frowned, as she looked down, then back at Harry. “I guess.. it has become into somewhat into an annoying little habit, hasn't it? But I don't want you to feel obligated to take my side, to even it out or so you won't hurt my feelings. You didn't have to side with me. I've gotten used to it, really.” Harry looked at her, slightly stung from her words. He knew that they argued a lot, but when he sided with Ron.. It didn't seem that they did it enough to get used to. He was faintly hurt because she had become so used to it, without consulting him about it.

“But Hermione,” he said, “ It isn't an obligation. It's so far from that, and I didn't side with you this time because I didn't want to hurt you or just to even it out. I really did disagree with Ron, not because he's always being such a small-minded prick for always picking on you-“

“Hey!” Ron said to Harry. “I am NOT a small-minded prick!”

“- and I just want to say to you that-“

“Harry,” she raised her hand to his face, telling him to stop. He halted, watching her as she looked at him, a strange look in her eyes. She smiled faintly. “I appreciate it, I really do. You're sweet.” Hearing those words from her made him feel tingly inside. He heard gagging from Ron, and he turned to glare at him, but Hermione started to stand. Harry watched her as she picked up her books and slung her bag over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked.

“The library,” she replied. “I just have to return these and check out a couple of new books.”

“The library,” Ron shook his head. “I swear it's like you're bloody addicted to the menacing stacks of books, dusty atmosphere and the smell of musty age.” He looked at her. “You practically live in that place, do you know that?” Hermione ignored Ron, as she adjusted her strap.

“I can come with you,” Harry offered, although he didn't really plan on offering. Instead, what he planned to say was, `I'll come with you,' so there was no way she could object to that. She finally fixed her strap.

“No, that's alright, Harry,” she smiled. “I think I can manage. I'll see you two later,” she said, before walking off. Harry stared after her, no doubt telling himself off for asking, and not making the actual statement so she could not refuse.

“You know, even if you just went along with her without asking, she would've made you come back here. She's not used to it. And she's that independent, as hard it is to believe.” Harry turned to Ron, and he was smiling only slightly. Harry frowned at him.

“Why do you always have to pick on her, Ron?” he asked. “She wasn't even doing anything to disturb anyone.” Ron shrugged, as he leaned back.

“I don't know. Maybe it's fun to light her knickers on fire.” Harry sighed.

“Ron..”

“What? It is! If there's no one else to get a big gold star for getting fantastically mad, why, Hermione would be the fist place winner!” Harry looked away, obviously irritated by his best friend's taunts and jokes about her. Ron saw the look on his face and grinned.

“Besides, Harry, when have you been so protective of our dear Hermione? You've never stuck up for her once, and now.. it's like you're her bloody hero who always comes to save the day.. right, mate?”

“I've been so unfair to Hermione,” he said, still not meeting his friend's eyes. “You know, always siding with you even though she was right for practically all the time. I ignore her when we win a Quidditch match and have a victory party in the common room. And, she doesn't get the thanks she gets. She doesn't even ask for it. Not from me. And I wish she did, you know? It makes me feel like I've been taking her for granted for as long as I can remember.” Ron watched Harry intently, carefully trying to dissect what his friend was truly feeling for Hermione.

It was more than a crush, he knew that. Could it be love? Could Harry love her? Or was he just simply in love with her?

“Are you taken with her, Harry?” Ron straight out said. Harry looked at his friend with a bemused expression. Ron continued. “I mean, just be honest with me. There's no shame in it. I, of course, admit that I liked her,” Ron threw a disgusted look on his face, “those years before. Just tell me if you're fond of her or not.” Harry decided that he would not be honest with Ron with this one, no matter what he asked of him. He knew well enough that Ron couldn't keep that big mouth of his shut when it comes to matters such as this, and he wasn't risking anything. He couldn't let her find out from someone else other than him, or now, as a matter of fact. He wasn't truly sure of what exactly he was feeling for her.

“She's my best friend,” Harry simply said. “I don't think any feelings other than the mutual feelings friends are supposed to have towards each other is possible.”

Ron distorted his face, confused. “What? That's ridiculous, Harry. Who told you that?”

“No one. It's a simple thing that you learn, being friends with,” Harry paused. “A girl.”

“Mate, there's no rule about friends like that. Really. I mean, one day, Hermione is going meet a nice bloke and have children whose IQ is the size of God-knows-what.” Harry cringed as he thought of Hermione with another man. “And you know Hermione. She'd rather be friends with him first, before they get anywhere.” Harry was still grimacing, thinking about Hermione snogging another man besides him. Ron saw the look on his face of pure disturbance and disgust.

“Are you alright?” Harry looked at him, before swallowing hard.

“I'm fine. I don't enjoy this lecture you're giving me, though. It's boring me half to death.” Ron chuckled.

“Just be thankful I'm not Hermione, Harry,” he said. “Just be thankful for that. You'd be long gone by now, what with all her rambling.” Harry grinned at him, shaking his head, knowing how wrong he was in this situation.

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

“What do you think it could be that Ron had to miss doing his Potion's essay with us?” Hermione asked absentmindedly, writing down the history of the Aestarian serum. Harry looked up at her, carefully watching and trying to memorize her features and the light dancing across her face, although it was already too unnecessary. He could remember every detail, remembering her beauty, although it was nothing compared to when he was actually with her. Dreams were no comparison at all.

“Something probably fairly important,” Harry said grimly. “Like chasing after Lavender and trying to explain why he had attacked her mouth the last time they were alone.” Hermione laughed softly, and he felt those butterflies erupt in his stomach once again. It was something that happened too frequently, when he was with her. But he didn't complain, just as long as she was near him.

“I wish him the best of luck,” she said, dipping her quill in ink and grinning at Harry. “Let's hope his boyish, seductive charm doesn't wear off just yet.”

“Oh, you can thank the potion sitting in his dresser, third drawer.” Hermione froze and looked at him. He grinned sheepishly.

“Somebody's been snooping, haven't they? Harry, you best be careful he doesn't catch you. You know how he is. But if I were you, I wouldn't even come near it.”

“No, I have not been `snooping,' Hermione. I see him take it every morning, thinking he's irresistible, saying today's going to be the day Lavender is going to see just how handsome and sexy he could really be.” Hermione snorted.

“Whoever gave him the idea that she's as dense and blind as a bat sure needs some serious medication.” Harry smiled at her, before returning to his work. Or at least, tried to. It was awfully difficult and frustrating when the love of your life was sitting in front of you. And the fact that she constantly kept licking her lips did not help, either. He had to gather up all the strength and force he had inside not to go over, grab her by the collar of her robes and snog her as passionately and madly as he could and truly wanted to. He just didn't know how long he could keep at it, though.

Hermione looked at him, and smiled faintly. He seemed to be concentrating hard on his essay; one thing she admired about him was that he had at least the determination to try to do well in his academics, unlike Ron. She watched him, noticing how his raven hair fell across his forehead perfectly, though still unruly and untamed. But there had been one too many times she had to fight the urge to run her hands through his hair. And the way his emerald eyes glittered and twinkled happily when he smiled and laughed with her made her stomach flop and her heart skip a beat. It made her want to inch her face near to his, so she could feel his breath and smell the faint trace of mint and just look into his eyes. In all her years with him, in his eyes was where she found reassurance, safety, warmth and all she could ever need.

But it did sadden her that it was all too clear that he did not think of her the same way she did of him. She thought about it sometimes, how she would never be his ideal girl, considering how Cho Chang looked and acted. She could never be that way. And she could, no doubt, look that way. She wasn't beautiful, or even the least bit pretty, but sometimes when they caught each other's gaze and held on, she had a feeling that maybe she was wrong. That maybe he did something in her that he couldn't see in other girls, or maybe, that he did think that she was pretty.

But of course, that was ridiculous. He was Harry Potter. He could have any girl he wanted; they were practically begging him to take their hearts. There was not a single possibility that he would look twice in her direction, let alone consider her that way. She was his best friend. That was her role in his life, and only that.

She sighed softly, before turning back to her work. Harry looked up at her, catching her sigh. He watched her work quietly, her quill moving smoothly on the parchment. He couldn't help but feel that restlessness return inside of him, just watching her. Her wavy hair fell forwards, trapping in the light in her strands and making it sparkle faintly. He was fighting the irresistible urge to raise his hand and tuck it behind her ear.. Run his hand through it, trying to see if it was as soft as it really looked. He watched her, his emerald eyes filled with longing.

Harry Potter, never in his life, wouldn't have ever thought that he would ever fall in love with Hermione Granger, his best friend. It wasn't logical, or even a possibility if he had ever thought about it his years back. He never could have thought of her as anything more than his best friend.

But now he was madly wanting for her to be so much more than that.

All he wanted to do was tell her how he felt, how much he adored and loved her. It was enough to drive him crazy and send shivering tremors when he was daydreaming of he would finally get a chance to lay his lips on hers. He longed to run his hands through her hair, hold her so close that they could feel their heartbeats pound rhythmically against each other. He wanted to taste her and show her exactly how much he wanted to be with her and loved her. He wanted to stare into her eyes without having to have an excuse. He wanted to feel her smooth, creamy skin and hold her hand so she would never stray far from him. He wanted all his dreams about her to become reality.

He, Harry Potter, wanted Hermione Granger.

So bloody much that it was driving him off the edge.

Underneath the table, he felt her knees brush against his, and he could've sworn he saw a pink tint rise to her cheeks. It made him suddenly wonder if she had feelings for him too. He certainly hoped so, although he was not really on the certain side of that matter. Still staring at her absentmindedly, he accidentally knocked over his inkbottle. Harry suddenly bolted up, as Hermione's head shot up. The ink soaked through his assignment, and was spilling over the corner of the desk.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said. She plunged her hand in her robe's pocket, and felt around for her wand, but came up with nothing. She groaned. “I must've left my wand up in the dormitories. I can go get it if you-“

“No, that's alright, Hermione,” Harry said, taking out his own wand. He pointed it at the mess. “I think I remember the spell.. it's-“

“Harry, I don't think this is a good idea-“ Hermione started, her eyes wide, but he went on.

“lithio amena convisioso,” he said. Nothing stirred, as Hermione looked at his parchment.

“Uh, Harry, I don't think-“ but just then, the parchment began to flutter, as if a breeze had sprinted by. Hermione halted, as Harry stared at it. Suddenly, the parchment floated up into air, the piece now clean as the ink disappeared, but the books and other papers started to flutter also. Harry had a sense that something bad was going to happen.

“Bloody hell,” he said, and the books, quills and papers suddenly rose up into the air, flying and whizzing past them. Hermione screamed, as one missed her shoulder by only an inch.

“Hermione, duck!” Harry said, dodging his Transfiguration book. “Get under the table!” He heard her squeal as she jumped to the side to miss her seven hundred-page book she had just checked out from the Library today. Harry held out his hands, trying to catch the books that flew by, and only managed to get a bruise on his wrist.

“Bloody-“ Hermione yelped- “-these things are fast!” He jumped up and caught a piece of parchment and laid it on the desk. He shot a quick glance at Hermione, who was also trying to catch the books that, odd as it was, were aimed right at her face.

“Hermione, I told you to get under the desk!”

“Harry,” she said, hitting off a book that was so close to smashing her nose, “do you really think that you're ever going to be able to catch these.. These monstrous things?” She jumped in time as a book flew at her ankles. Harry caught his Potions book with his hands, as it flew squarely at his palms.

“You're going to get hurt!” he said, turning as he tried to catch his parchment.

“Really, I think I'm going to risk that right now. I can't believe books are attacking me!” she said, as she ducked. Harry grinned at the irony, as he caught another parchment.

“I got yours,” he said to her, as he laid it down on the desk.

“Great. Now we've only got to catch about seven more killer flying books. Honestly! You'd think Ron would be decent enough to put away his books if he wasn't even going to bother coming to-“ she squealed as another book flew at her. Harry grabbed an already captured and tamed book off the desk and hit off a big book like a baseball.

“Harry!” Hermione yelled.

“Nasty little buggers, aren't they?” he said, trying to hit off another one. He hit it by the edge and it spun off towards Hermione. She darted away in time.

“Sorry!” he said, preoccupied with a book aiming at his nose. She caught a book in her hands, surprised. She quickly set it down as another chased her over to the couches. A book darted past him, and he saw it was aiming towards an unaware Hermione. He ran off towards her, and hit it away.

“Thanks,” she said, out of breath.

“Anytime,” he said. She squealed, as she backed into him, accidentally pressing herself against him. He felt a warm blush rise to his cheeks, as he looked over at her.

“Are you al-” Hermione's eyes widened, as she yelled out his name. He tried to turn around, but was not fast enough as a very thick book hit him hard on the forehead. He could feel himself become dizzy, as his world darkened with neon colors and spun. He dropped the book he held in his hand, as he clutched his forehead, trying to make the aching go away. Just then, as he heard Hermione hit off another book, trying to say something to him between breaths, he felt another book hit him fiercely in the stomach, and he stumbled back until he fell to the couch. Hermione watched him at the corner of her eye, as she caught another book. Harry groaned, holding his stomach and forehead. Hermione went in front of him, blocking him from books flying at him.

“Hermione,” he said, but she cut him off breathlessly.

“Just stay there, Harry,” she said, “you're hurt.”

“No, but Hermione-“ she turned her head to give a menacing and warning look to say that she was not in the mood, forgetting the books soaring at her. Harry called out to her, but it was too late as three books tackled her at the same time. He heard her gasp as one hit her in the stomach, another on the head and one on the chest. She walked backwards; her vision blinking from the hard impact, and suddenly tripped over the couch and fell atop of Harry, who gave out an “oomph,” as her body lay on top of his. Hermione blinked furiously, one hand on her head and another clutching her stomach. He saw that the books were still soaring around the room, so he wrapped his arms around her and held her so close that he could feel her heavy breaths on his neck. They could hear it bouncing off the walls, as it knocked on the desk. Her hair fell forward, ticking the side of his face and neck.

Harry could feel his heart beating rapidly and hard, intense heat spreading through his face and body in their close and uncomfortable position. He couldn't say that he minded. He just didn't expect it, that's all.

It really did feel good to have her so close to him. Not to mention that he could smell the vanilla-lavender scent on her skin and that her warm breaths stuck to his neck, making it tingle. And her face was so close to his, and her lips looked just about as sweet and soft. He was fighting that urge just to kiss her now. He wasn't doing very well, mind you.

Hermione was feeling as if her cheeks were aflame, and she couldn't bear to imagine how red she was blushing right at this moment. Here she was, on top of the boy she had loved for so long, so close to him that she could feel and smell his minty breath, and his hands on her waist and back, holding her so close she could feel his toned muscles on his lean and lanky body.

So many sinful images and thoughts were running through her mind right now, it made her want to run off and become a nun back in the Muggle world.

Her heart was pounding, as she could hear him breathing hard, as she also felt his chest rising and dropping underneath her. But, somehow, as embarrassing as it was, she rather liked this position. Him, being so close to her and all..

She shook that thought away, as she mentally swore at herself for thinking that way about him.

She shifted her legs atop of his, and Harry could feel himself flush even hotter. He felt as if he could not even breathe. Soon, they heard the clashing and sounds of things falling over to the floor and things being knocked over, stop. There was silence, besides their heavy breaths. Harry was starting to think that the fact he was breathing hard had nothing to do with that he was out of breath anymore. He listened some more; nothing.

“I think.. I think it's done, Harry,” she whispered to him. There was this loud bellowing in his ears, thinking of what he was going to do if she was going to get off. He would never be this close to her again.

He felt her legs shift again, and she turned her head. She looked at him, searching his eyes and looking uncomfortable as she was preparing to push herself off of him. Harry swallowed hard.

“Harry,” she said, uneasily. She pressed her hands against the cushion, as she tried to get off, Harry looking at her so strangely that made her stomach flutter twice as harder and faster. Harry, knowing that this was going to be his only chance, held onto her. She froze, as she felt his hands tighten around her. As he searched her eyes, he saw a flicker of fear and nervousness. He held her down to him, and just about as she was going to open her mouth to object, he spoke.

“Hermione, do you remember when you told me about those love songs and how that feeling.. how I couldn't understand what they were saying or what they meant?” She nodded slowly, not knowing to where this was going.

“Well,” he said, “I understand now,” he paused.

“Harry,” she said, panicking, “I don't think this is-“

“Because, that feeling they talk about, Hermione, with how your heart beats so hard you can't hear anything else, and your stomach gets these odd butterflies in them that's so bloody irritating but you can't get them to go away. And how you want that person so much that you can't think of anything or anyone else. You can't help but think about how much you love that person so much that it drives you crazy, and the fact that you hadn't seen it before makes you angry.” He let out a sigh, and a smile began to form on his face. Hermione felt her heartbeats cease into silence.

“All those things, Hermione.. that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel, and that's how madly I want to be with you,” he waited for her to say something, before he went on. “I love you.” Hermione stared at him, shocked, but before her mind could start to function properly to form words, she leaned in and laid her lips on his. He was surprised, but wrapped his hands around her tighter and held her closer, deepening the kiss.

He was not disappointed with how good she kissed, or how soft her lips were and how sweet she tasted. No, not at all.

And neither was she.

“I love you too,” she said breathlessly as they pulled back, but that only made him pull her in for another kiss before they fully had a chance to take in whole breaths.

Ron walked into the common room, grinning widely walking hand in hand with Lavender. They both froze, as Lavender gasped and Ron's smile widened.

`Atta boy, Harry,' he thought.