Chapter 4: Territorial Pissings Pt. 1
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Tuesday, October the 28th
Harry sighed tiredly as he tried to make his necktie look the way it was supposed to. But after five minutes of unsuccessful tries, he finally gave up. It had been a long and restless night, and Madam Pomfrey had allowed him to go back to his quarters 30 minutes ago in order to get ready for a full day of classes.
What Madam Pomfrey didn't know was that Harry would have preferred to stay in bed all day, hiding under the covers to avoid Hermione, Ron, and of course, himself.
His arm and shoulder had healed overnight, and he felt only a tiny prickle of pain when he made sudden movements. Only a small bandage on his forehead remained from last night.
Harry ran a hand thru his unruly black hair, touching the bandaged bump next to his scar roughly, grimacing. He took a moment to look at his reflection in the mirror. One of the glasses in his spectacles was cracked from the fall, but he was so weary that the thought of raising his wand and performing a simple spell tired him out. Also, the crack served to distract from the dark circles under his puffy eyes. He pressed the palm of his hand to his face, feeling the stubble of his chin on his fingers, knowing full well he didn't feel like shaving that morning, for he didn't trust a razor anywhere near his jugular.
'Harry, you look like a bloody bum.'
'How can you even think of competing with someone like Roger Davies?'
"Wait, where did that come from?" Harry whispered, frowning. It was 7:30 in the morning; almost sixteen hours after he had drank the faithful potion in Snape's class. The effects were supposed to have vanished long ago.
Harry heard a sleepy voice mumble, "Err di wha om rom?" He looked away from the mirror and toward Ron's bed. Ron, already fully dressed, was sprawling face first on his unmade bed, apparently unable to let five minutes of waiting for Harry go without seizing the opportunity to sleep.
"Nothing. Let's go. I'm hungry," Harry answered briskly, trying to hide his worry.
'Who knows? Maybe the potion has some side-effects… temporary I'm sure. Yeah, that's it. I'll see her this morning and she won't be anybody else but sweet, reliable, good old Hermione.'
Ron got up from the bed, still half-asleep. Together, they walked in silence toward the Great Hall, Ron looking around the corridors in case Hermione was approaching, and Harry looking down at the floor with his hands on the pockets of his coat.
Ron caught sight of the giggling Lavender and Parvati (what do they have to be so happy about so early in the morning?), a flustered-looking Ginny (what was that girl up to?), a red-faced but beaming Neville (is everybody a morning person but me?), but no sign of Hermione.
Ron stole a worried glance at Harry. There was something different about his friend this morning, and Ron had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with Hermione and the whole potion business. The effects of the Potion #9 should have vanished by now, but Harry's expression right now reminded Ron of the expression he wore when he had found Cedric had beat him to asking Cho for the Yule Ball.
They entered the Great Hall and took their usual seats at the Gryffindor table. Harry hadn't even finished buttering his single slice of toast when he felt a big, warm hand on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder only to find Albus Dumbledore, Hogwart's Headmaster, smiling warmly down at him.
"I trust you are feeling better, Harry? Minerva informed me of what happened last night," Dumbledore said softly, adjusting his spectacles up his crooked nose.
"I am, sir," Harry said curtly, feeling a little uncomfortable with the strange twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes.
Dumbledore nodded, "I trust that, next time you want to reach a book, you will tell Madam Pince about it. I can assure you she can get them down safely, since she was the one that put them where they are in the first place." Harry gulped as he forced a polite smile.
"I will, sir. Thank you," Harry answered. Was it his paranoid imagination at work or did Dumbledore just imply that he didn't believe a word of Ron and Harry's story?
Dumbledore smiled once more and said, "I have to go now. But if you need me, you can reach me in my chambers." He squeezed Harry's shoulder one last time, turned around and started walking away.
"What was that all about?" Ron whispered, puzzled.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Harry said as his eyes followed Dumbledore toward the exit.
Lucky he had been looking at the direction of the doors or he would have missed Hermione coming into the room. And not so surprisingly, she wasn't alone, for Roger was standing next to her, holding her hand in his.
Harry let his slice of toast fall on the plate with a muffled thud; he was not hungry anymore. "What's wrong?" Ron asked, noticing Harry's not-so-subtle change in mood.
"My stomach's not feeling well," Harry said quickly as he tore his eyes away from the happy couple and looked down the table, trying to focus on Dean as the fellow Gryffindor tried explain what football was to a second-year student.
Ron wasn't convinced, and he looked at where Harry had been looking at less than a second ago. He looked up just in time to see Roger kissing Hermione's hand and walking to the Ravenclaw table.
"I think your stomach thing is contagious," Ron grumbled as he did the inconceivable and put down his fork when he still had food on his plate.
Hermione looked over at the Gryffindor table and positively beamed when she saw Harry was already there. Only Ron noticed this, for Harry was too busy pushing his half-eaten piece of toast around the plate.
Harry couldn't stop thinking about the image of Roger holding Hermione's hand. His stomach was in a twist, his head hurt and he was having difficulty breathing. He had to get out of there, and he had to get out of there fast.
'What in bloody hell is wrong with me?'
"Err… I have to go to the little boys room. See you at class," Harry lied, standing up abruptly. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to splash ice-cold water on his face and scream at his reflection on the mirror until he couldn't speak for a week.
But he had only managed to take two steps away from the Gryffindor table when Hermione intercepted him. "Harry!" Hermione squealed excitedly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and giving him such a hug he thought she might bend him in half. In spite of himself, Harry couldn't help but smile.
"Hey Hermione. Nice to see you too," he whispered, hugging her back timidly. The smell of her lavender shampoo hovered around her, and he felt strangely intoxicated by it. But the warm sensation that spread through his body ceased when she pushed him within arm's length and scowled at him.
"Just what do you think you were doing?" she hissed, obviously referring to last night's stunt.
"I was… I was… I was trying to study!" Harry stuttered. Hermione looked at him menacingly, wondering whether it was safe to believe he was capable of something so stupid.
"Come on, Mione! You are always saying how I need to read something else other than Quidditch Thru the Ages, aren't you? Well, you should be proud of me cause I finally listened!" Harry lied, hoping that the "I'm a good kid" smile he had just plastered on his lips was enough to fool her.
Well, it either worked, or she was so happy to see him well that she wasn't going to press the subject… yet. Hermione's expression changed from a scowl into a patient smile. "Well, next time, try not to crack your head open. I can't believe that for you a trip to the library results in more injuries than a Quidditch game," she said softly.
Harry remembered what Ron had told him last night… about how Hermione had ruined her sweater when she used it to try to stop his bleeding. He remembered how the redhead had told him Hermione had been so worried she had cried. Hermione rarely cried. Feelings he didn't know how to identify grew in him.
"Hermione… thanks for taking care of me in the library… Ron told me what happened," Harry said softly, feeling suddenly nervous. He didn't know the reasons why; Hermione had taken care of him plenty of times, and he had been grateful each and everyone of them.
"Don't mention it, Harry… although if you want to buy me a new jumper next time we go to Hogsmeade, I won't say no," Hermione answered with a playful tone.
"Oh, speaking of that," Hermione said, as if she had just remembered something. Again, and without warning, Hermione pulled him toward her, until the length of his body brushed with hers. He gulped hard, and his throat turned suddenly dry.
'What's she doing? Oh, Merlin, is she going to kiss me? YES! I mean, NO! Argh…'
All hope for a kiss faded when she pushed his hair away from his forehead and stared at the bandage on his forehead. Carefully, she lifted it and gazed at the wound underneath it.
"Well, it is almost healed. Just one more day and it will be good as new," she whispered approvingly as she carefully replaced the bandage, or so Harry thought. He could hardly make out her words as he put all his efforts in trying to ignore how her breath gently tickled his skin.
He needed a distraction, and he needed it fast.
Sometimes the universe had a very twisted way of answering his requests.
"Don't tell me this is the first time you notice that hideous scar, Granger? I know muggleborns are thick, but this is a bit too much," Draco Malfoy's drawling voice worked like a cold shower on Harry.
Harry looked over Hermione's shoulder to see Malfoy's just a few feet away from them, his gorillas, Crabbe and Goyle, flanking him. The blonde was looking at them with the sneer that often led to Harry's fantasies about punching Malfoy's lights out. Ron stood up from the table and took his usual defensive position next to Harry.
"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron and Harry said simultaneously, ready to fight if it came to that. Hermione placed a soothing hand in Harry's shoulder and the other one on Ron's. With a dramatic fling of her curls, she looked over her shoulder at Malfoy.
"What's your problem, Draco?" Hermione asked, her voice sweet and patient. Malfoy sneered violently; it there was one thing he hated was a mudblood on a first-name basis.
"I don't have a problem. Which is something that cannot be said for you two friends, Potty and the Weasel," he hissed. Harry had never known the word "friends" could be uttered with so much contempt.
Harry flexed his knuckles, but a strange sense of tranquil came over him when he watched the calm expression in Hermione's face as she turned around to face Malfoy.
"Oh, I get it, Draco. You are jealous," Hermione said, putting her best puppy eyes expression on her face, obviously faking feeling sorry for Malfoy. Harry had to stifle a laugh; Malfoy looked as if he was ready to explode.
"Jealous? Of Scarface there? Are you bloody mad?" Malfoy spat, his cronies cracking their knuckles reflexively.
"Not because of the scar, Draco… but because of the fact that I can touch my friends without feeling the need to wash my hands afterwards. Which is something I believe your girlfriend Pansy has not been able to accomplish," Hermione said sharply, matching Malfoy's venom with some poison of her own.
"Filthy little mudblood," Draco hissed, his voice carrying threat in its whisper as he took a step toward Hermione. Harry tensed; he was ready to slam Malfoy's face against the table if he dared to put a finger on his best friend.
Hermione, however, seem completely unfazed, going as far as crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Malfoy with a very threatening look.
"Better to be a filthy little mudblood than a closet Death Eater. Won't you agree, Draco?" Hermione smoothly replied. Harry didn't thought it was possible, but Malfoy looked even redder than before, clenching his fists at his sides.
"Is there something else I can do for you, Draco?" Hermione asked sweetly, giving him another toothy smile. Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but looked at the staff table, where Snape, McGonagall and Hagrid were looking down at them.
Draco knew he had to cool down; he couldn't attract more trouble, not when the wheels had already been put into motion and the dateline for the plan was so near.
"We'll continue this later, Granger," Malfoy hissed at Hermione.
She smiled brightly at him. "Jolly good then. Have a good day, Draco."
No sooner had Malfoy started walking away that the whole Gryffindor broke into applause. Hermione playfully took a bow.
"Blimey, that was awesome," Ron said, patting her shoulder, the pride he felt for his best friend evident in his voice.
"Thank you, Ron," Hermione said, that playful smile still tugging at the corner of her lips. Ron sat down back at the table and started eating, his appetite miraculously restored.
Hermione turned around and, without asking for permission, started doing Harry's tie for him.
Harry had a silly grin on his own face. There was something so personal and hypnotizing in the simple gesture that made Harry's heart beat wildly on his chest.
Hermione finished with the knot and ran her hands over his uniform in an attempt to smooth the wrinkles from his clothes.
The contact of Hermione's hands on his chest, even through the clothing, was enough to send shivers up and down his spine.
This was something he shouldn't even consider exploring.
When Hermione looked up at him, she found Harry with a soft smile on his lips that contrasted sharply with the tiredness in his viridian eyes. Harry kept on smiling down at her, and her curiosity was peaked. "What?" she asked softly.
"That was incredible, Mione… simply incredible," Harry blurted before he had a chance to think. Hermione started laughing, thinking Harry was speaking about what had happened with Malfoy moments before.
Her hands left his body as she reached inside her pocket and pulled out her wand. Without wasting another moment, she pointed her wand between Harry's eyes and said, "Oculus Reparo"
Instantly, the crack on Harry's glasses disappeared, leaving them as good as new. For a second, Harry saw the 10-year-old little know-it-all he had met on his first train ride to Hogwarts.
He remembered he still had to thank Neville and his toad Trevor for bringing Hermione into his life.
Harry realized Hermione was still smiling softly at him. "I'm glad to see you so happy," he said, wondering if there was a particular reason why Hermione was in such a good mood that morning.
"Thanks, Harry. I'm just so happy to see you doing better that I wasn't about to let that ferret ruin my morning," Hermione said, tucking the wand back into her pocket.
'I am! I'm the reason she's happy!'
Harry felt energized, and he even started thinking about eating a bit more for breakfast so as to spend time with Hermione.
But that vanished when he saw an arm draped itself over Hermione's shoulder.
'I guess I'm not the reason after all.'
He forced himself to continue smiling as he watched Roger plant a kiss on Hermione's cheek.
"You were unbelievable, Hermione," Roger said, flashing a bright smile. Harry felt the urge to see how Roger's smile would look if he knocked all of Roger's teeth out.
"Thanks," Hermione said, her demeanor strangely shy.
'Is she blushing? She is, dammit! Oh, why do I even care? This is none of my business!'
"Hello, Harry. Glad to see you are looking better than you did last night," Roger said as he turned his attention to Harry. Only Ron noticed how truly strained Harry's smile was as Harry nodded politely at Roger and said a simple hello.
"Well, let's go, Hermione. I'll walk you to your lesson," Roger said confidently as he turned his attention back to the girl standing between Harry and himself.
"She hasn't eaten breakfast!" both Ron and Harry said between clenched teeth. Hermione, who apparently didn't notice the effect the Head Boy seemed to have on her two best friends, smiled at Roger.
"You know what? I'm not that hungry to begin with. I think I'll skip breakfast," Hermione replied.
Roger, playing the part of the perfect gentleman, grabbed Hermione's books and nodded at Harry and Ron. "We'll see you later," he said with an irritating smile before turning around.
"See you in class, guys," Hermione added as she turned around and started walking to the Great Hall's doors, Roger's arm still around her shoulders, leaving Harry slack-jawed and Ron so mad you could practically see the smoke coming from his ears.
"WE'LL see you later'. WE? Since when are they a WE?" Ron snapped, the expression on his face indicating that he wanted to choke Roger till his lips were blue.
Harry couldn't answer, for he didn't trust his mouth was capable of producing any sounds.
Getting no reply from Harry, Ron turned to look at his best friend to get an opinion about Roger and Hermione.
He was stunned by what he saw. The expression in Harry's face was nothing like Ron's. It was something that could only be described as sheer panic.
"Are you okay, mate?" Ron asked, worriedly. Harry looked paler than he had looked in the hospital last night. Again, Harry didn't answer, but continued looking at the spot where a few moments ago Roger and Hermione had disappeared.
"Harry, you are scaring me. What's wrong?" Ron said, looking around the hall to see if Harry had spotted some danger that no one else knew about.
Harry suddenly turned around and grabbed Ron's arm forcefully. "Ouch! What?" Ron frowned.
"If I tell you something important… do you promise not to laugh? Do you promise to help me out of this mess?" Harry asked bluntly. Ron now looked as scared as Harry felt.
"I do. Now, what's wrong?" Ron said, pulling his arm from Harry's iron grip.
"The potion is still working. I am still in love with Hermione. And I need to find an antidote NOW!" Harry blurted.
Ron broke his promise immediately by laughing in Harry's face.
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A/N: Short chapter, but compensating with faster updates! Hope you enjoyed it. By the way, the title "Territorial Pissings" comes from a song by Nirvana. Awesome song… and I thought that it describes Harry's situation perfectly.
In the next chapter: Harry gives a dog a run for his money when it comes to Hermione.
Thanks to all that left me feedback! I truly appreciate it. Sorry for not replying to each and every one of them as it is my custom, but I'm pressed for time today.
Take a minute to drop me some feedback if you can. They are what inspire me to become better.
Peace,
Anasazi