Many, many thanks to my beta Another for his wonderful work. You are the best!
Chapter 13: Dirty Little Secret
I'm not in love. So don't forget it.
It's just a silly phase I'm going through.
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If Harry were to be asked what the single worst moment of his life was, now he knew how to answer. Without a doubt, the sensation of being washed in the blood of his best friend of six years - the woman he felt for like no other - was the most terrible experience of Harry's young life.
And considering he was the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Screwed, that was saying a lot.
He felt something pushing out of him, something organic and foreign, originating from below the pit of his stomach. It moved from his stomach to his throat, burning and pulsing, pushing out of him like a giant snake looking for release. When it arrived at his mouth, he recognized the sensation for what it was.
A scream.
He opened his mouth and released an agonizing cry. He screamed and screamed and screamed till the world spun around him in a whirlwind of anguish, his tormented soul begging for only one thing as everything was swallowed by the darkness.
Death.
Harry didn't get his wish though, for the next moment he felt a pair of strong hands gripping him by his upper arms and shaking him violently. He opened his eyes to find the anxious face of his redheaded friend, Ron. "Wake up! Wake up!" Ron yelled over and over again, shaking Harry desperately.
`It was a nightmare…just a nightmare.'
A wave of relief flooded his head with such intensity that he felt like crying from happiness. His head was pounding, his scar was burning, the sheets that were tangled around his legs were cutting his circulation, the contents of his stomach were bubbling as if he had swallowed a chemical bomb, and yet he felt so happy he could dance.
`She's all right. They are all alright.'
"I'm awake, Ron! I'm awake!" said Harry in a hoarse voice, the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach getting worse by the second. Ron, who had still been shaking him up to this point, sighed audibly and let go of him. Harry looked around the find that Seamus, Neville and Dean had also woken up and were now standing around his bed looking quite frantic.
"You okay, mate?" Ron asked with a shaky voice as he looked worriedly at Harry. Harry nodded weakly as he tried to focus on getting his heart rate back to normal.
"Yeah… it was just a nightmare," answered a breathless Harry, using his arms to sit up on the bed. It was not an easy thing, for his whole body ached with the exertion.
"Harry, I've been sharing this dorm with you for almost seven years. Next time you wake me up with your screaming, I'm going to smother you!" Dean said as he made his way back to his bed, shaking his head with a smile that told Harry that the muggleborn was only half-joking.
"Sorry, guys," Harry whispered, taking deep breaths, attempting to stop the shivers running up and down his extremities.
"At least we don't sleep in bunks. Imagine Harry dropping on one of us? Enough for a heart attack, say I," Seamus said with a small smile before jumping into his bed and throwing the covers over his body.
"Are you sure you are okay, Harry? You look as pale as the Bloody Baron," Ron asked softly. Harry considered telling Ron about the dream… for about half a second; Ron would go frantic and go wake up Hermione, who would panic, and with Dumbledore out of the castle it would all be for nothing.
Harry nodded weakly as he swung his legs to the side and pushed himself out of the bed. "Yeah. I just… I just need some water." Slowly, he stood up, the blood rushing back to his legs with such force that he felt dizzy. His body seemed to be burning up, and he wanted nothing more than to splash cool water on his face. Ron looked reluctant to believe him, but he was too groggy and exhausted to insist, and finally nodded at Harry and walked back to his bed, snuggling under the Chudley Cannon's bed sheets Hermione had gotten him for last Christmas.
Harry walked to the back door of the room and opened it, but before he could step outside, he heard someone calling his name. He looked over his shoulder to find Neville, who had been silent since Harry woke up, sitting on his bed and looking at the picture he kept on his night table. It was a picture of his parents, Alice and Frank Longbottom, from their seventh year at Hogwarts. The look on Neville's face as he watched his father giving a piggyback ride to his mother left no doubt as to what was going on inside the boy's mind.
"This nightmare… it doesn't have anything to do with… with You-Know-Who… does it, Harry?" Neville asked, his voice strangely devoid of feeling, his eyes never leaving the portrait of his parents.
Truth be told, Harry didn't know how to answer. What WAS that dream about? Was it a vision like the one Firenze
said he experienced in Divination? Why was Hermione the central character in the dream? Was it just a message of his
unconscious regarding his current situation with his best friend? And if indeed the dream had something to do with
Voldemort, how was he supposed to decipher its meaning?
Dammit! Where was Dumbledore when you needed him?
"Don't worry, Neville. Go back to sleep," Harry said with as much strength as he could muster, nodding slightly at his good friend. Neville finally looked at him, his eyes inspecting the green-eyed boy, before he finally sighed and nodded back at Harry.
Harry left the room and dragged his body by the doors of the other dormitories into the boy's lavatory. He bent over the water basin and opened the tap, splashing cool water on his weary face. He felt sticky, dirty and soiled… as if he would never be clean enough.
Water dripping from his face and the raven locks that were now stuck to his forehead, Harry looked up to find himself staring back from one of the bathroom mirrors. His vibrant green eyes had lost their sparkle, and were now red-rimmed and shiny, with dark circles underneath them. Moving his hair away from his forehead, he gazed at the lightning-bolt shaped scar that had been his curse since he was little more than a year old. It felt like it was burning from the inside and yet, it looked the same as it had been for the last 16 years of his life.
Harry turned around, leaned back against the cool porcelain of the basin and closed his eyes, trying to recreate in his head what he had witnessed not ten minutes ago.
He impulsively chewed his lower lip when the memory of Hermione on his bed came into focus. It had felt so real: the weight of her body pressing against his, the smell of her vanilla soap and her lavender shampoo, the way her hair tickled his face, the way her breath caressed his lips.
Oh, how much he had wanted to tell her right there about the potion, that he didn't care about anything but her, that he didn't want to be cured of his ailment, and that he wanted nothing more than to feel her full lips on his! But, just like the mad love he felt for Hermione, it was just an illusion.
An illusion that had all too soon gone down the drain.
Why the sudden change? Why had he seen his friends trapped in the Great Hall, hanging from the ceiling like pieces of raw meat in a butcher shop? Why had Hermione taken a central place in the nightmare? Why was she trapped in the spider web? What is the orb? And what was it doing hovering over her?
He remembered the feeling of Hermione's blood raining over him, how he had tasted the metallic bitterness of her essence in his throat, and he gagged in response. Harry felt the nausea violently hit him. He opened his eyes and ran to one of the stalls, kneeling in front of the ceramic bowl and puking the contents of his stomach into it.
After about five minutes that seemed to last an eternity, the violent lurches in Harry's stomach subsided. He sat on the floor of the bathroom stall, leaning back against the wall, the little strength he had recovered after his terrifying nightmare failing him entirely.
He had not stopped thinking about the dream and it's meaning, even when the headache was now pounding violently behind his eyes so harshly that the dim light from the few candles spread throughout the room hurt him.
Hearing only his ragged breathing echoing in the hollow lavatory, Harry thought he had reached a possible explanation for his nightmare. Potion or no potion, Hermione was the single most important person in Hogwarts for Harry. She was his best friend, the person that understood him and comprehended him like no other, and his number one ally in the fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
If he were to allow himself to indulge in the fantasy that he was in love with her, it would ruin their friendship. She would be trapped in the proverbial spider web, suffering on the inside for fear of hurting him. The strain will get to be too much, and he would finally lose her completely.
And without Hermione, there was nothing for him in Hogwarts… no education, no friends, no Quidditch, no tests, and no future.
Hogwarts without Hermione meant nothing to him.
The thought that he one day might have to live without his best friend by his side terrified him more than any nightmare he had ever experienced, more than Uncle Vernon and his leather belt when he was a kid, more than Aunt Marge's rabid mutt chasing him through the backyard, and even more than encountering Voldemort face to face in that godforsaken graveyard.
Without his best friend, Harry was crushed… overpowered… defeated.
`I'm not in love.'
Harry ran his hands through his jet-black hair, soaked with sweat.
`It's just the potion.'
He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, ignoring the sudden urge to cry. He was a man for Merlin's sake! And not just any man, but the one that had the fate of the wizarding world on his shoulders. What good would it do to cry?
For him, it was actually a blessing that what he was feeling wasn't for real, because if it had been… only God knows if he would risk it by going off to fight some evil dude with delusions of world domination.
And, still sitting on the cold marble floor of a dirty stall in an empty lavatory, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Savior of the Wizarding World and Fool Extraordinaire, fell asleep.
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Friday, October 31st
7:24 AM
The next time Harry opened his eyes, sunlight had flooded the lavatory. There was an incessant tapping on his shoulder, and Harry looked to his right to find Colin Creevey crouching next to him, frowning with worry.
"Harry, are you okay? You feeling ill? Want me to call Hermione?" Colin said in a hurry, his wide eyes scrutinizing Harry's face.
`Why does everyone think of calling Hermione when I'm in trouble? I'm starting to think I'm a bit co-dependent.'
"I'm okay, Colin. Just a touch of stomach flu," Harry grimaced as he pushed himself from the floor of the bathroom stall. He was still feeling rather weak, and it didn't help that he had spent only God knows how many hours asleep on the cold marble floor. Colin grabbed his arm and helped Harry to stand up, and didn't release the raven-haired boy until he made sure Harry was steady on his feet.
"Oh, you too? I had it yesterday," Colin said, his face paling at the memory, "Are you sure you are okay, Harry?"
Harry nodded in reply, slowly dragging his aching body back to his dormitory. Only Neville and Ron remained, and they both looked relieved when Harry stepped inside the room. "Where were you?" Ron asked as he hastily tied the knot in his tie.
"Around," Harry lied, feeling rather humiliated by spending the night in front of a toilet. He didn't miss the look of disbelief that Ron and Neville shared, but decided to ignore them as he quickly dressed on his school uniform. As soon as he finished, the three friends walked in silence through the Hogwarts hallways until they reached the Great Hall.
A violent shiver ran down Harry's spine at the sight of the Great Hall, the memories of the dream assaulting his senses: the bodies hanging from the ceiling… the blood on the halls… Hermione in the spider web… the taste of her blood at the back of his throat.
"Harry, are you okay?" Neville's concerned voice broke through his thoughts. Harry raised his head to find Neville and Ron looking at him as if they were expecting him to break into little pieces at any moment. It both warmed his heart and unnerved him to no end.
`Get a grip, Potter. It was only a nightmare. She's fine; they are all fine.'
"Yeah, just a bit dizzy. That's all," Harry nodded, managing to give them a weak smile. Again, Neville and Ron shared a look that told Harry they weren't easily fooled, but they had apparently learned their lesson after last night's little date fiasco: it was better not to meddle in Harry's personal affairs until he was ready.
"Come on, mate. Let's get some breakfast in you," Ron said, smiling slightly and giving Harry a small pat on his shoulder. They walked toward the Gryffindor table and sat at the end, Ron next to Harry and Neville on the other side of the table. They were soon joined by Ginny, who gave a sheepish smile to Harry before kissing Neville on the cheek.
Ron was piling the pancakes on Harry's plate and telling Harry to "dig in", but Harry was too preoccupied to eat, having realized that there were no decorations visible in the Great Hall.
Had the whole business about helping Flitwick with the Halloween Ball decorations been a rouse by Roger to get Hermione to go with him? If it had been, he had to give points to Roger for his oh-so-simple yet so effective lie.
His stomach was doing summersaults, his heart was beating wildly in his chest and the palm of his hands started sweating profusely. He gripped the fork in his hand with such force that the old iron gave in.
`I'm not in love.'
The memory of his friend, not the one on his dream, but the flesh and blood Hermione that had danced with him in the grounds to the beat of a silent melody, came back to torture him. He closed his eyes and thought solely on the memory.
He had been so close, yet so far.… Had Roger kissed her yet? Had he felt how her body fitted against his? Was he planning on taking her on a broom ride under the moonlight?
Had she danced with him the way she danced with Harry?
`It's just the potion.'
Harry exhaled loudly, and finally opened his eyes. He found Ginny and Neville were trying to get more information from Ron about his infamous costume, but the redhead just blushed furiously and waved at Luna, who was looking at him dreamily from the other side of the hall.
"You two will know soon enough," Ron said, chewing his bacon loudly. Ginny, who seemed to be back to her usual excitable self, turned her attention to Harry.
"How about your costume, Harry? Is it top secret too or can you let us in on the scoop?" the youngest Weasley asked before taking a bite of her buttered toast. Upon seeing Harry's sour expression, she choked.
"Sorry," she mumbled after swallowing her food. Harry smiled reassuringly, a smile he hoped conveyed his belief that soon things will be back to normal.
"Don't worry, Gin. It's just a phase," he whispered before forcing himself to start eating his pancakes. The food was quite good, but his stomach was not really feeling up to it. So after a few bites, Harry settled for watching in silence the parade of students coming and going from the room.
Breakfast was almost over, and two key players were still missing: Hermione Granger and Roger Davies.
Trust one of the Gossip Twins to state the obvious.
"Hey, where's Hermione?" Lavender asked from her seat next to Ginny, her question directed at Harry.
`What am I? Her boyfriend? Ask bloody Roger!'
"I haven't seen her since last night," Harry mumbled, whispering, "Not that it's any of your business," under his breath, absently pushing a lonely grape around on his plate.
"I know what must have happened to her," Parvati said, winking slyly at Lavender. The not-so-innocent expression was enough to raise the alarm in Harry's head.
"What is it? What happened to Hermione? Is she okay? Where is she?" asked Harry hurriedly, unconcealed panic in his voice as flashes of last night's nightmare swam behind his eyes. Lavender and Parvati looked at him as if he had sprung a third eye.
"Roger Davies!" Parvati answered bluntly, sharing a giggle with her best friend. Ron and Neville looked apologetically at Harry, who was gripping his wand tightly underneath the table and daydreaming about performing the Bat-Bogie Hex on those two, but it was Ginny who silenced the Gossip Twins' laughter with a "shut it, you hags".
Before World War III could break out on the Gryffindor table, Hermione appeared at the doors to the Great Hall. Even from the distance, Harry could tell Hermione looked quite tired and haggard.
Everything else faded to the background as Harry watched Hermione walking toward their table.
Would she be angry about the kiss that almost happened last night? Would she tell him that she wants to stop being friends with someone that can't keep his hands to himself? Would she scream at him for breaking the bonds of trust and friendship they had shared for the last six years?
Hermione sat on the empty chair next to Harry before the emerald-eyed boy had a chance to regain his senses. The brown-haired witch mumbled a quiet "good morning, everyone" before grabbing a piece of toast from a nearby tray and hungrily beginning to bite at it.
Okay, so she had apparently decided to ignore it.
Harry surprised himself by realizing that he couldn't decide if that meant he was sad or if he was happy.
The nearby Gryffindors watched in fascinating horror as Hermione crunched on her food with a passion never equaled (with the sole exception of Ron after a Quidditch game). She was already on her third piece of toast when Ginny broke the silence, saying rather bluntly, "You are abnormally famished this morning."
"Sorry," Hermione said with a sheepish smile, wiping a bit of butter that had trailed down her chin, "I was up all night working." That simple statement was enough to make Lavender and Parvati break into another giggling fit. Everyone but Hermione glared daggers at them until they calmed down.
"Did I miss something?" Hermione asked, looking from Lavender to Harry and Ron, who were behaving rather oddly this morning, even for them.
"Where's Roger?" Lavender asked in a not-so-subtle tone.
Harry grimaced; part of him knew that the subject of Roger was as painful as a prostate exam in the hands of a giant, but another part of him wanted to know where the head boy was as badly as Lavender and Parvati did.
Hoping for a "he got pecked to death by Buckbeak this morning", Harry almost choked on his pumpkin juice when Hermione shrugged nonchalantly and answered, "Resting, I guess. Poor guy was exhausted when we finished."
Lavender and Parvati both whooped loudly, giving each other a high-five as if they had just won the lottery. Harry had had enough with those two that morning. His eyes growing into slits, he turned his attention to them and whispered, "Either you two shut your mouths, or I'll shut them for you."
At least the two girls had the decency to look intimidated by the empty threat (or perhaps they didn't think it was that empty), because both stood up from the table, and, without looking back at either of them, walked out of the hall.
Had Hermione's frown been any deeper, it might have left a permanent scar between her lovely brows. Once again, she turned to her silent friends and asked, "Are you sure I didn't miss something?"
"Nope!" Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville answered in unison, each trying to busy themselves with their breakfast. Hermione looked thoroughly unconvinced, but Luna, who was coming from the Ravenclaw table with a roll of parchment clutched on her tiny hand, spared them from further interrogation.
Kissing Ron soundly in his cheek, Luna quickly turned her attention to Hermione. "I got Father's answer," she said, waving the piece of parchment in her hand. Harry had no idea what the hell Luna was talking about, but Hermione apparently did, judging by how her ears perked up in interest.
"What did he say?" asked Hermione, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands. An errand curl of chocolate brown hair fell over her cheek, and Harry impulsively reached out and tucked it behind her ear. A tremor ran through Harry's arm when he realized what he had done, but thankfully, Hermione just gave him a grateful, but rather shy, smile before turning her attention back to Luna.
Taking the empty seat next to Neville, Luna said in a whisper, "He says he doesn't have a lot of information about what the stolen artifact really is, but that his sources told him that, until the day before the exhibition opened, the artifact was under the care of the Department of Mysteries, and there's even rumors that it was under the direct protection of the Unspeakables."
The Department of Mysteries - the place that was the source of many of Harry's nightmares. His mind wandered to the end of his Fifth Year, to the reckless flight to save Sirius from the clutches of Voldemort, to the sphere that held the prophecy that had become Harry's curse, to the image of his best friend falling to the floor, still and seemingly lifeless, and to the veil that ultimately took his godfather's life.
Unexpectedly, he felt a warm sensation on the hand that had been resting on his thigh. Fingers curled around his hand and squeezed softly, a thumb tracing gentle figures in his skin. His eyes followed the arm of the person that was holding his hand under the table, only to find Hermione smiling tenderly at him.
She had instinctively known how he had felt. Somehow, she had known, and as always, she didn't waste another second in letting him know that she was standing there with him.
It was ironic that at that moment, with the simple feel of Hermione's hand holding his, Harry Potter felt like the luckiest guy in the world.
Still holding Harry's hand under the table, Hermione returned her attention to Luna and said, "You do realize that if indeed the artifact was under the care of the Unspeakables, it is potentially a very dangerous object. Probably a conduit for the dark arts."
"I don't know. But I'm guessing it's something that will do a lot of damage if it fell into the wrong hands…" Luna added, seemingly slipping into one of her meditative states, something the Trio had grown quite accustomed to.
"Was it under the protection of our Ministry of Magic?" asked Neville with a slight frown. Luna replied with a simple nod.
"Then how did it get from England to Germany in the first place?" he asked. Luna and Hermione both looked at each other, unable to give him a suitable answer.
Harry felt as Hermione squeezed his hand lightly before she withdrew from him to scratch a spot next to her nose. He immediately missed the warmth of her skin, but didn't want to dwell on why.
`I'm not in love. I'm just glad she's my best friend.'
Ginny, who had been watching Harry and Hermione out of the corner of her eye, cleared her throat and said, "Hey, does everyone else think is a good idea if we have our lunch outside? It's such a beautiful day! It would be a shame to spend it inside the castle!"
"I think it's a lovely idea," Luna said dreamily as Ron and Neville both nodded. In reality, the four friends had agreed last night after Harry had come from his date that it would do Harry a lot of good to spend as much time as possible away from the walls of the castle… and away from Roger Davies.
"I'll have to take a rain check on that. I already made plans with Roger," Hermione said after finishing the last of her juice.
"Well, change them," Ron said rather brusquely. A small kick to his shin by his little sister told him he had said the wrong thing.
Hermione, either accustomed to Ron's bossiness or simply deciding to ignore his immaturity, just rolled her eyes at him and smoothly replied, "I can't. It's very important that I meet with Roger today."
`I'm not in love. I just… I just wish she could come with us… and not with him.'
"I'll… we'll miss you," Harry whispered, giving her a slight smile. Only she heard him, and judging by the small smile she sent his way, she appreciated the sentiment. A mischievous glint appeared in her lovely eyes, and she unexpectedly beamed at them.
"Well, how about this? If you all want to, I can speak to McGonagall about getting us passes to visit Hogsmeade tomorrow. With all the extra work I had to do for this ball, I'm sure she'd agree to give me a day to relax with my best friends," Hermione said with excitement.
"I'm in!" Ron said, raising his hand. Luna and Neville did the same, while Ginny wondered out loud if the Hogshead would serve her Firewhiskey. Hermione turned her attention back to Harry, locking her eyes with his in an unmistakable "How about you?" expression.`By tomorrow, I'm sure the potion would have wore off. What could be so dangerous about going to Hogsmeade with her?'
`Admit it, Potter. You just want an excuse to spend time together.'
`I'm not…'
` "in love" bla bla bla. I know. Keep telling yourself that.'
"I'd love to," Harry said softly, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he averted his eyes from hers. He heard Hermione chuckle, and felt her fingers ruffling his hair playfully for a moment before she stood up from her seat.
Smoothing the front of her jumper, Hermione said, "Well, tomorrow I'll be all yours. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to return a book to Madame Pince. I'll see you all later." And with one last smile, Hermione turned around and walked away.
All eyes were on Harry as the young man watched his best friend walking away from him. He looked, by all means, like a little boy that had spent the last five hours looking at the latest racing broom on display at Quidditch Quality Supplies.…
… Who knew he would never get a chance to ride it.
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12:03 PM
Hogwarts Grounds
It had been unusual morning for the Hogwarts crew; the only thing truly familiar was Hermione scolding of Harry and Ron when they started snoring in the middle of Professor Binn's lecture about the role of the red goblins in the trade of silk in 15th Century China.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson was canceled, mainly due to the fact that the teacher, Professor Dumbledore, was still absent from the castle. Again, Harry felt a deep sense of uneasiness; he may not always see eye to eye with Professor Dumbledore, but Hogwarts felt a lot safer with the old man around. The only one that shared his uneasiness was Hermione, mainly because she knew that Harry didn't felt comfortable discussing his dreams with anyone but Dumbledore.
`Don't be so paranoid. Nothing is going to happen.'
Harry had suggested (to the surprise of everyone but Ron) going to the library during the free period. Hermione congratulated him on trying to do better in school, but apologized because she still needed to work on some charms for the Ball. Ron had told a visibly gloomed Harry that he would go to the library with him, but of course, it had all been an excuse to spend some time with Hermione, and Ron, Neville and Harry settled for sitting in front of the Divination door for an hour and a half.
Divination was particularly uncomfortable for Harry, and not only because it was the only course Hermione didn't share with them. Nothing had changed from the previous classes taught by Firenze, and yet, Harry could feel a tension so thick he could almost cut it with a knife. The centaur hardly looked at him, and didn't spoke to him once during the entire time.
After the class had ended, Harry stayed behind, intent on apologizing to his teacher.
"Professor, I -"
He hadn't finished the sentence when Firenze put a comforting hand to his shoulder. Harry was more than surprised when the usually stoic centaur looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Young Potter, if I had the answer to your questions, I will give it to you… gladly. But I don't. I am but a simple creature, just a fly caught in this web we called existence."
"Eh, alright, Professor. I'm sorry for being disrespectful the other day," Harry said sheepishly, not quite wanting to meet the centaur's gaze.
The expression on his professor's face became even more serious as he continued, "Remember… destiny has chosen others to walk the same path you have to walk…"
"Professor, what do you -"
"Remember that… to open the door… you'll need the key."
Was it just Harry or did Firenze tended to be even more confusing than Trewlaney?
`What the hell has he been smoking?'
Firenze sighed and shook his head slightly, remaining silent for a few moments. Finally, he added, "Just follow your heart, young Potter, as Mars follows Venus to the Twelve house, and I promise, it will all be well in the end." There was an almost imperceptible smile gracing his handsome features.
Harry returned the smile and left the classroom, feeling both relieved that the Professor had apparently forgiven his tantrum and troubled by the strange parting words.
The words still echoed in his head as he followed Neville, Ginny, Ron and Luna to the place where they had decided to have their picnic… the tree by the lake. It was a hot, but breezy afternoon, not unlike the one on Monday, where Harry had, by mistake, drank the cursed love potion. His heart sank when his thoughts drifted once again to Hermione, whom he had caught a glimpse of when they walked past the Great Hall, sitting next to his least-favorite Ravenclaw.
They finally reached the tree by the lake, and stood under the refreshing shade. Harry sat against the trunk as Ginny opened the basket Dobby had prepared for them. Neville and Ron placed the red and white picnic cloth on the moist grass as Luna performed a charm that would keep the ants away from the food.
Harry mumbled "thank you" to Ginny when she passed him a plate with fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy and ate in silence, his mind drifting to the last time he had sat under this very tree.
That afternoon, Hermione had rested her head on Harry's shoulder as they laughed at one of Ron's stories. He could still feel the way Hermione's hair tickled his cheek, he could smell her characteristic aroma impregnated on his skin, he could see himself resting his arm on her shoulders when he felt her tremble from the cold.
Absently, he wondered why he remembered those things if he was yet not under the potion's spell.
`I'm not in love.'
"You are not eating, mate. Are you okay?" Ron asked softly as he took the spot next to Harry. Harry hadn't realized he had spent the last 10 minutes without touching his plate.
"I guess I'm not," Harry sighed as he put the still full plate aside. He leaned back against tree trunk and closed his eyes, deciding to ignore his friend's pitiful stare.
"Hey, isn't that Hermione?" Neville suddenly asked, peering over Ron's shoulder. Harry opened his eyes in time to see Ginny elbowing Neville in the ribs and mumbling something under her breath. Harry and Ron looked around the tree to find that Neville was indeed right, for Hermione was walking on the other side of the lake. And she wasn't alone.
"Where's that dessert already?" Ron asked, trying to divert Harry's attention back to the picnic. Everyone else tried to continue with his or her meals, but for Harry, who just couldn't keep his eyes off Hermione and her companion, the idea of eating was preposterous. He wished he could see them more clearly, and not just as far away figures walking on the grounds.
Suddenly, Harry remembered a spell Hermione had taught him at the beginning of the term. She had apparently found it in one of the many books she read over the summer break, and memorized it in order to teach it to Harry. It was a simple and yet effective incantation, and one Harry had doubted he would ever need… until now.
Standing up and walking around the tree trunk, Harry sat against once again and, out of eyeshot from his friends, took his wand from his pocket and waved it in front of him. "Oculus Maximus," he muttered under his breath, tapping the end of his wand against the surface of his eyeglasses.
`Remind me to thank Hermione for this nifty spell… minus telling her how I tested it.'
The view in front of him magnified considerably, and he zoomed in on the two figures strolling on the opposite side of the lake. The wind had picked up, and Hermione tucked a strand of her curly hair behind her ear to stop it from hitting her in the face. Roger was animatedly talking next to her, waving his hands in front of him almost frantically, that award-winning smile plastered on his face.
`Wanker.'
`As long as she's happy.'
Hermione suddenly stopped walking and, tucking her hands inside the pockets of her cloak, looked down. Roger stopped speaking and turned to face her, a frown on his face.
Since he couldn't read lips to save his life, Harry watched with interest as Roger spoke before placing his hand on Hermione's shoulder.
She looked up and replied with a whisper. The frown on Roger's face deepened, and, placing his hands inside his trousers, waited for Hermione to continue. A few more moments passed in which Roger and Hermione exchanged glances, but not words, while Harry could do nothing but stare.
Harry didn't know what came out of Hermione's mouth next, but as the words flowed and the seconds passed, he could swore he saw Roger's shoulders visibly sag, the proud posture he seemed to possessed betraying him. Hermione looked down on the ground, and said something that made Roger looked away, his eyes bright with something Harry had never seen on the Head Boy before.
Hermione looked up at Roger once more, and ceased to speak. Another silence fell between them, one that seemed more lasting and oppressive than the last one. Finally, Roger raised his head and met Hermione's eyes. Taking her hands between his own, Roger whispered something before raising her hand to his lips and tenderly kissing her knuckles.
Harry wanted nothing more than to hate Roger at that very moment, but to his surprise, he found he couldn't. It had been a gentle gesture, delicate, genuine and loving, and Hermione deserved nothing else but to be treated with total devotion.
`If only I learned to treat her that way.'
A bittersweet smile appeared at the corners of Hermione's mouth as she took a step toward Roger, closing the distance between them considerably. With her free hand, she gently cupped his face, her thumb tracing his cheek softly, and started speaking.
Like a passerby about to witness a car crash, Harry found himself unable to look away from the couple in front of him. His chest was aching, his breath became shallow, his palms sweated, and yet… he could not look away. Not even when he felt Ron kneel next to him could he tear his eyes away from the loving picture on the other side of the lake.
"Why are you doing this to yourself?" asked Ron softly and with evident sadness in his voice, knowing exactly what had kept Harry's attention for so long.
"I don't know," was Harry's blank answer.
"Tell her how you feel, mate," pleaded Ron, looking up from Harry and toward Hermione and Roger. He knew there was no way under the heavens that Hermione could feel about Roger the same way she seemed to feel about Harry.
"I'm not in love, Ron,"' Harry whispered the mantra that had kept him going since last night, his own voice sounding like a stranger's.
"It doesn't look that way to me," Ron sighed, turning his attention back to Harry.
"I'm telling Snape about the potion and begging him for the counter-potion. I don't care how much he ridicules me… nothing is worth this pain," whispered Harry hollowly.
"Is there anything that can change your mind?" Ron asked, but Harry couldn't reply this time, for the view had once again captured his undivided attention.
He forgot to breathe as he watched Hermione lean closer to Roger, her lips capturing the Ravenclaw's mouth in a chaste kiss.
`There's one thing that can change my mind. Make me the one she wants to be with.'
"No, Ron. There's nothing to be done."
------------------------
3:45 PM
Potions Classroom
The afternoon had been nothing but a blur. Harry did not remember walking back from the picnic, or the name of the creature that had stung him in Care of Magical Creatures. He didn't remember what Ron and Hermione had been fighting about on the way to Potions, so he was slightly confused when he found himself sitting in front of his desk, stirring a vile green liquid in his cauldron.
"What am I supposed to be doing here?" he mumbled to Ron, who was standing next to him stirring his own potion.
"Well, what WE are supposed to be doing is the first stage of the Draught of the Living Dead potion," Ron replied, stealing a glance at Snape, who was helping one of the Slytherins with his work. He then pointed at Harry's cauldron and added, "That, my friend… I don't know what the hell that is."
Sadly, Ron was right. Knowing his work was now unsalvageable, Harry muttered Scourgify and the contents of his cauldron vanished. He knew he would get a FAIL mark on today's lesson, but frankly he didn't give a damn. He had more pressing concerns in his head.
As they had been doing for as long as Harry remembered, his eyes searched the room until they found Hermione. She was biting her lower lip softly as she often did when she was deep in thought, stirring her potion with care, her eyes fixed on the simmering liquid. Harry chuckled dryly, not from amusement, but from the sheer irony that only his best friend could look so lovely doing such trivial things.
Hermione looked up and he caught her eye. She gave him a big smile, a gesture comforting because of its familiarity. Harry smiled back before Hermione returned to her work.
"I have your grades for last Monday's potion. As usual, you have done nothing but disappoint me," Snape's voice broke through Harry's thoughts. He looked at the front of the classroom to see Snape was sitting in front of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest, a look of deep disgust on his face. Harry shuddered when he remembered that this was the man he was supposed to ask for help. In normal circumstances Harry would prefer to swallow his own tongue than to go to Snape, but alas, there wasn't anything normal about his peculiar situation.
Harry didn't know how she did it, but the next moment he felt Hermione's familiar hand on his forearm. He looked to his right to find her looking up at him with concern written in her charming features. "Did you just apparate?" was the only intelligent phrase that came out of his mouth.
"No, silly. I walked here. But I'm not surprised you didn't notice. You haven't taken your eyes off Snape for the last ten minutes," Hermione said patiently. Ten minutes? Merlin, that loss of time was becoming rather annoying to Harry.
"I can see your potion didn't turn out that good," Hermione said, turning her attention to Harry's empty cauldron. Harry just nodded, mesmerized by the way she was still holding onto his arm.
`I wonder if… when things get back to normal… I will notice all these little things.'
`Do you want to notice?'
He didn't have a chance to find out as Hermione turned her attention back to him and whispered, "Look, I have to leave straight away after class, but I just wanted to let you know that I hoped you had changed your mind about the Ball. I don't want you to miss this."
She looked so hopeful that he didn't have the heart to let her down. He vaguely thought about how lucky he was to have a friend like her as he whispered, "I'll… I'll think about it."
Hermione gave him another knee-jerking smile and said, "If you do go… will you save me a dance?"
"The first," Harry said as he forced himself to keep smiling. He didn't thought it was appropriate to add that he would save for her the first, the last, and every other dance in between if she would just ask it of him, so he kept quiet before he could make an ass out of himself.
"Good. Hope to see you there, Harry," Hermione said, giving him another bright smile before squeezing his arm in farewell. She turned around to look at Ron, who was concentrating hard over his cauldron, committed to actually getting a pass in today's work.
"And I definitely can't wait to see you there, Ron," she said, her voice full of mischief. Ron grew immediately suspicious and, frowning, asked her why.
"Oh, let's just say Luna told me all about the costumes. I'll definitely be asking Colin to take a picture of you," Hermione said. With a playful wink at Ron, she walked away from them.
Snape interrupted the murmuring of the classmates, "When you are finished with your potion, prepare a sample for evaluation. Bring it to my desk so you can pick up your substandard grade for Monday's work."
Hermione left her sample and picked up Monday's grade from the pile of sheets on Snape's desk. She smiled at what, obviously, was another Outstanding and ignored the sneer the professor sent her way as she walked out of the room.
"At least I know I'll get a good grade for a change," Ron said as he started to prepare his own sample for evaluation. Harry mumbled a weak under his breath and took a look around at his classmates. Most of them were visibly excited about tonight's ball, gossiping about the dances they had practiced and the costumes they had bought.
Instinctively, Harry's attention drifted to the Slytherin side of the classroom. He found everyone but one in the same energized state. Surprisingly, it was Draco Malfoy who seemed not be in the mood to join the celebration. In fact, he was behaving uncharacteristically jumpy as he prepared the vial with today's potion, even spilling some of the liquid on his table.
`What the hell is his problem?'
"Ready, mate?" asked Ron, his sample ready as he threw his book bag over his shoulder.
"No," replied Harry, shaking his head and tearing his eyes away from the white-haired Slytherin, "let's wait till everyone gets out of here."
So they waited until only Malfoy and Snape remained in the dungeon. Malfoy finally put the cork on his vial and hand it to Snape. The Slytherin picked up his grade and stuffed it in his bag without checking it, leaving the classroom in an obvious hurry.
"Now or never," whispered Harry as he and Ron walked toward the front of the class. Snape was reading an old scroll in his hands, and didn't look up from the sheet until Harry cleared his throat.
"Yes, Potter?" asked Snape, raising his eyes from the scroll and looking at Harry with nothing but disdain. Ron placed his sample with the others and picked up his grade from the desk.
"Professor… Professor Snape. I have a p-p-p-problem…" Harry started saying, but he didn't get a chance to finish his request.
"WHAT?!?" screamed Ron, effectively silencing Harry. Harry looked at his friend and found him with an expression of shock in his face, clutching his grade sheet in his hand.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Weasley?" Snape sneered, venom dripping from his innocent words.
"I failed… I FAILED!" screamed Ron, looking from Snape to Harry and waving his grade sheet in front of him.
"WHAT?" hissed Harry, his rational mind shutting down as he made a grab for Ron's paper. The word FAILED was written across the parchment in bright red ink, provoking Harry's heart to beat twice as fast as it normally did.
`No, it can't be. The potion worked! This is just… this is just Snape messing with Ron! He hates it when we get things right!'
"How could… How could I have received a FAILED grade when the potion works?" questioned Ron, voicing Harry's concerns as he turned his attention back to his Potions' teacher.
Snape slowly stood up from his seat and, placing his hands on the tabletop, he rounded on Ron. "Mr. Weasley, if you are speaking about Monday's potion I can assure you, the grade you have is the grade you deserve. You did not hand in the Philtrum Casses Amator potion as was requested of you," Snape hissed, his whole body shaking with anger.
`I'm not in love… I'm not in love…'
"If the potion doesn't work, how come…" Ron started, turning his attention back to Harry.
The same thought plagued Harry's head, and yet, didn't have enough working neurons to voice it. He just stared back at Ron, his jaw hanging open, his breathing shallow, his hands trembling.
`I AM NOT IN LOVE'
"WHAT ARE YOU TWO NINCOMPOOPS TALKING ABOUT?" Snape screamed, sick and tired of the ridiculous staring contest Harry and Ron seemed to be engaged in.
But the Potion Master didn't get an answer, because the next moment, Harry Potter ran out of the classroom like a bat out of hell, his best friend trying to catch up to him and failing.
Reality had come knocking on his door, leaving his dirty little secret out in the open.
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Hello, my friends! Sorry about the scare I gave some of you last time. I wasn't about to kill Hermione! Not yet, anyway (hehe kidding… or not. :) )
This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Musketeers and the fabulous Glendy, for hounding me about this update every time they saw me online, and to Tori Amos, for her lovely rendition of Harry's Anthem (otherwise known as "I'm not in love").
So, I guess one-half of the question everyone has been asking since the second chapter of this story has been answered. Let's recap: was Harry under the effects of a love potion? The answer is N-O. But he was under a potion's effect. You'll have to wait to find out more about that.
And thanks to all my wonderful reviewers for the inspiration, encouragement and constructive
criticism.
Love,
Anasazi
-who thinks nincompoop is one of the coolest words in the English language.
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