Fate

1. FATE

Note: If you are reading The Sense (my other fic), no, I have not abandoned it.  I’m just waiting for the next chapter to get beta-read so that will be up ASAP. As a peace offering though, I give you this little story, which is pretty short so I figured it didn’t need to be beta-read…but I have Word now so it’s spell-checked all nice. 

                “Harry, look!  Oh, you have to come see this!” Hermione called joyfully from the edge of the Forbidden Forest. 

                Harry looked back at the nice, warm castle longingly, but reluctantly followed her excited voice.

                Professor Sprout had assigned groups to research a different type of magical flower.  Like always, he, Ron, and Hermione naturally gravitated together as a group and Hermione, being the eager student that she was, could not wait to find a live specimen of their assigned flower, the Clotropesis.  This was not required for the assignment, but Hermione insisted that the specimen would help with their project, fully aware that the only samples they would be able to find would be inside the Forbidden Forest.

                “But that’s restricted, Hermione.” Ron had said in the castle.  “Anyway, it’s about to bloody blizzard out there!  We can’t go now!”

                “The Clotropesis thrives in blizzards, Ron!  This is the best time!”

                Harry remembered how Ron looked out the window at the increasing snowfall and mumbled something about “Quidditch injuries…can’t go out…”.

                “What a baby.” Hermione had said, scowling.  Her taunt had failed to change Ron’s mind though, and she had turned to Harry.  “You’ll come, won’t you?”  she asked hopefully in a voice that somehow took control of Harry’s senses.

                Ron took Harry’s elbow and whispered in his ear.  “Figures the only time she’d break a rule intentionally was if it was for homework.  She’s nuts!”

                “I heard that, Ron.”  Hermione glared.  “And if you think you’re going to sit back and do nothing for your grade, don’t hold your breath.”

                Harry looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione, each of them looking expectantly at him.  He really, really did not want to brave a snowstorm for a Herbology project.  He would have much rather sat by the fire and knitted elf hats, a hobby Hermione still refused to give up.  There really was only one thing he could do…

                Now he found him self outside, freezing, and running around looking for a stupid flower.  There was not a force on this earth that would have made him let Hermione go out alone.

                Ravenclaw my pink, frozen ass.  The stupid hat was right to put her in Gryffindor.  Harry thought as he plowed through at least 3 feet of snow in search of Hermione.  A bloody yeti would have been mad to come out in this weather.

                “I’m right here, Harry!” Hermione called.  Harry squinted through trees, the air thickening with snow.  He caught sight of a red mitten waving him over.  Stumbling once or twice, he finally made it to Hermione’s side.

                “Look!  The Clotropesis!” Hermione bore the small yellow flower proudly.  It’s petals looked strangely robust, despite its dainty size and they grew from the center in crowded clusters.  It looked almost plastic, like the way-too-beautiful-to-be-natural flowers that Muggles bought to decorate their homes without going though the hassle of actually taking care of them.

                “Yeah.  Let’s go now.” Harry pleaded.

                “Isn’t it beautiful?”

                It was.  Very beautiful.  But Harry would not be able to appreciate its beauty until he was back inside and checked in the mirror to see that his face hadn’t frozen and shattered off.

                “Yes, it is.”  Harry sighed.  When Hermione was eager to do something, there really was no turning back.  He ran a finger down the thin, yet surprisingly firm purple stem.

                “Harry, don’t do that!”

                “Do wha - AHHH!”  A thick purple goo spurted from flower all over Harry‘s cheap. old winter coat.  “What the hell was that!?”

                “Defense mechanism.  You’re not supposed to stroke the stems like that or it will spray you with foul smelling pus.” She held it higher to show Harry that she was holding it by its purple-veined leaves.

                “How was I supposed to know that?”

                Hermione made a face and put her hands on her hips.  “Well, if you had READ like you were supposed to…”

                Harry smirked a little at this.  An hour earlier Hermione was reading aloud from her book about the flower while he and Ron were engaged in a game of Wizard Chess.  Truth be told, even if he wasn’t paying attention to a word she was saying, he often found himself looking up at Hermione during Ron’s turn.  She always had a sort of extra cuteness when she was reading.  It was distracting, really, when Harry fully intended to study but found himself looking at Hermione instead.  Which is why he usually really studied alone.  Of course, this led Hermione to believe he wasn’t working at ALL, so she took it upon herself to visit the Boys’ Dorm every night to make sure Harry was set.  But seeing Hermione in her pajamas sitting on his bed every night didn’t warrant any complaints.

                “You know it’s named after the three Fates?  Clotho, Atropos, and Lachesis.” Hermione continued. “They control fate and what happens to us mortals.  I read that these flowers have a strange sort of power that - ”

                “Fascinating.  Really.  But Hermione, I can’t feel my bum.”

                “What?”

                The wind was speeding up now, so fast and cold that it felt like a sheet of needles was being rammed into his face with each blow.  It seemed to shriek at the two foolish students for breaking the rules and entering the Forest during a blizzard.

                “I SAID I CAN’T FEEL MY BUM!”  he yelled louder.

                “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Hermione yelled back.  Suddenly the wind whistled shrilly and cracked the branches off several trees, causing blankets of snow to fall on them.

                “AHH!” Hermione cried.  She clutched the Clotropesis tighter and hastily stuffed it in her pocket. 

                “HERMIONE, WE’RE GOING!”  Harry grabbed blindly for her arm and caught her coat sleeve. 

                “OKAY!”  They fought through what seemed like a thick wall of snow.  Harry looked up, when the trees started thinning, meaning they were leaving the Forbidden Forest.  He could no longer see the warm glow from the Hogwarts castle windows.  The snow was too thick; all they could make out was whiteness.

                “I THINK IT’S THIS WAY!” Hermione yelled tugging Harry to his left.  But Harry didn’t think so.  He held his ground.

                “NO, I’M PRETTY SURE IT’S THIS WAY!” Harry cried, pulling her his way.

                “ARE YOU SURE?”

                “POSITIVE!”  Harry said firmly.  He felt shivers run down Hermione’s arm.  She was smaller than him, so she was having a much harder time fighting through the storm.  He embraced Hermione in a bear hug and started to walk with her clasped to his chest.

                “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

                “I DON’T WANT YOU TO BLOW AWAY!”

                Their voices were practically drowned out by the screaming of the wind.  Harry was beginning to doubt himself; surely they would see the Castle by now?

                “OW!” Hermione stumbled, causing Harry to fall on top of her.

                “WHAT HAPPENED?  WHAT DID YOU DO?”

                “I THOUGHT FALLING IN THREE FEET OF SNOW AND DROWNING MYSELF WOULD BE FUN, OBVIOUSLY!”

                “IS THIS REALLY THE TIME FOR SARCASM?”

                Hermione wriggled away from whatever she crashed into and swept away some snow. 

                “IT’S A PUMPKIN!”

                They had to be in Hagrid’s Patch.  If his cheeks hadn’t already been red from the stinging cold, he would have flushed with embarrassment.  He had led them away from the castle, not towards it.

                “DON’T YOU KNOW ANY SPELLS?  ONE THAT COULD POINT US IN THE DIRECTION OF HOGWARTS?” Harry asked over the wind.

                “I CAN TRY, BUT DO YOU HONESTLY THINK WE’LL MAKE IT OVER THERE?”

                Harry thought about this.  If they were in Hagrid’s Pumpkin Patch, then they were still a long way from the Castle.

                “NO.”

                “LET’S STAY AT HAGRID’S THEN!  WE’LL FIGURE SOMETHING OUT THERE!”  Hermione pulled herself up and they made their way through the patch, taking care not to collide with anymore large orange vegetables.  When they reached the door they pounded loudly.

                “HAGRID!  HAGRID, LET US IN!”  Harry yelled.  They tried to listen through the door, but heard no movement inside.  All they could hear was the shrieking wind around them. 

                “HAGRID!”

                Harry grabbed the icy door handle and twisted it hard.

                CRACK!

                The door blasted open from the wind and slammed against the outside of Hagrid’s hut.

                “GET IN!” Harry pushed Hermione in roughly and tumbled in after her.  They both reached out for the handle and pulled with all their strength, pulling the door closed against the wind.  Then they fell back on the wooden floor, gasping for breath.

                Warmth.  Blessed, God-given warmth.  Well, it was relatively warm.  In reality it must have still been freezing in the dark, damp hut, but neither teen noticed.

                “Where’s…Hagrid…” Hermione wondered, breathing heavily.  Her hair was disastrously windswept, as was Harry’s.  Both their cheeks were a threatening shade of red and their clothes were covered in snow.

                “Don’t…know…” Harry huffed.  They looked around at their surroundings.  The hut was empty and relatively tidy.  There was no fire in the fireplace, but the hut was toasty compared to the icy hell outside.  Hagrid’s massive bed was made and his kitchen was dusty, but well-kept.  No sign of Hagrid or Fang, his oversized cowardly canine.

                “It looks like he hasn’t been here for a while.” Hermione observed, running a near-frostbitten finger across the table and drawing a line in the thin sheet of dust.  “Do you think he’s out on a mission again for the Order?”

                “Probably.  Giants again, I reckon.”  Harry climbed back up to his feet, brushing away the snow.  There was a purple stain on his thin cloth coat from the Clotropesis.

                Hermione suddenly looked wary and began to look slowly around the hut.

                “What?”

                “Well…it’s just you never know if Hagrid left some kind of fire-breathing demon-spawn egg around to, you know, incubate or whatever.”

                Harry laughed.  “I’m sure he wouldn’t do that.”

                “Well, I used to be sure that he wouldn’t capture a giant and tie him up in the forest, too.”

                Harry silently agreed with her.  He shouldn’t put it past Hagrid to have a dangerous hut, even when he wasn’t there.

                “I wonder how old Grawp is handling the blizzard?”

                “He‘s probably got the entire population of centaurs huddled around him for warmth.”  Hermione got up after him and began rummaging around the fireplace.  “It’s them I’m really worried about.”

                “ASS-COW?”

                “Excuse me?”

                “Association for the Seasonal Shielding of Centaurs Over Winter?”

                Hermione couldn’t help but laugh.  “That makes no sense, Harry.”

                “Oh, and SPEW was the perfect acronym.”

                “Shut it, you.”  Hermione tried unsuccessfully to stop smiling and continued to fuss around the fire pit.

                “What are you doing?”

                “Wood.”  Hermione lugged a small log into the pit and lit it with her wand.  “It appears we’re going to be here for a while.”

                Harry nodded distractedly.  The soft orange glow from the fire illuminated the dark hut and allowed him the first clear view he had of Hermione since they had left the castle.  Her cheeks had gone from a blood-red down to an innocent pink.  The patches of snow on her water-proof coat were rapidly melting and forming rivers of water that ran down to the floor, giving her a shiny and glistening look.  The fire created attractive golden flecks in her tangled hair that seemed to dance around with the crackling flames.  She smiled at him; her brown eyes now a lighter amber color.

                “Come on, let’s find something to eat.  I’m starving.”

                She made it half way to the small dusty kitchen before her face twisted in disgust.

                “What?”

                She brought her hand to her nose and pinched it shut.

                “You stink!”

                “Look, I’m sorry I led us here, but - “

                “No, I mean you SMELL!” Hermione told him nasally.  He looked down at the stain on his soaked coat and sniffed it.  He gagged.

                “Oh, Merlin - “

                “That’s disgusting!”

                Harry had failed to smell the Clotropesis scent earlier, since their senses had been dulled by the mind-numbing cold.  But now the stench was being smelled at full force, and Harry and Hermione were practically dry-heaving at the odor.

                “I’ll - “ Harry gagged.  “- cleaning charm.”

                “Harry, I really wouldn’t do tha - “

                “AHH!” His coat caught fire as soon as he cast the charm on himself. 

                “Harry!”  Hermione darted back to the fireplace to swipe her wand off Hagrid’s bed where she had left it.  Panicking, Harry threw off the coat and stomped it on the ground.  The coat emitted a spark that set one of Hagrid’s chairs on fire.

                “AHH!”

                Hermione extinguished the fire off the chair, but nothing could be done about Harry’s old coat.  It smoldered pitifully into a pile of ash before anything could be done.

                “That was my favorite coat.” Harry frowned at the black dust.  “That was my only coat.”

                “The Clotropesis can’t be magicked off.  It’s permanent, unless you have a couple bubotubers around.” Hermione explained. 

                “Yeah?  That‘s vastly interesting.” Harry grumped.

                “You really should have read the chapter…”

                “Think so?!”

                “Are you biting my head off again?”

                Harry was now officially angry for no real reason except that he was cold, wet, and hungry.  “I knew we should have just stayed at the castle…”

                “You said you wanted to come!” Hermione shot back hotly.

                “I didn’t want to come!”

                “Then why did you??” she demanded.

                Harry had no answer for this.  His mouth just opened and closed noiselessly.  Why did he agree to go with her, anyway?

                Hermione sighed and looked down at the dark ash.  “I’m sorry about your coat, but it really was too old and thin.  We’ll get you a new one next time we go to Hogsmeade.“

                “Yeah…“ Harry mumbled.

                The playful humor between them seemed to die down as fast as Harry’s jacket had burned into nothing.  Hermione made a move closer to Harry in an effort to make peace, when she wrinkled her nose again.

                “I still smell it!”

                Harry glanced down at his sweater and saw that the pus had bled through his old coat onto his clothing.  “Great.  Now what do I do?  Sit naked in a hut in the middle of a blizzard?”

                Hermione hid her severe blush while Harry walked to the other side of the hut.  “Hey Hermione, turn around for a moment, will you?  And don’t turn back until I tell you to.”

                She complied.  Then called over her shoulder.  “You were kidding about the being naked part, right?”

                “Would that be so bad?” Harry feigned a hurt tone.

                “Oh shut up.” A moment passed.

                “Okay turn around.”

                Hermione began to turn.

                “Hah!  I’m still naked!”

                “HARRY!” Hermione cried, blushing furiously and clamping her hands over her eyes.  “That’s not funny!”

                “I’m just joking, I’m wearing clothes.” Harry chuckled.  Hermione slowly moved her fingers and was greeted to the sight of Harry throwing his smelly, pus-stained shirt over her face.

                “HARRY!” she shrieked, shaking off the offending garment frantically.  “That’s disgusting!” 

                Her vision was obstructed by the shirt, but she could hear Harry’s loud guffaws of laughter.  She kicked blindly and felt her shoe connect with his shin.

                “Ow!”

                “You are SO immature!”  She forced open a window and threw the smelly clothes outside, ridding the hut of the sharp scent of rotting eggs.  “I thought you were better than Ron, at least!“ When she turned to look at Harry, she nearly fell to the ground in laughing convulsions.

                “H-har - Oh my - “ Hermione could not get a complete sentence out as she gasped desperately over the unrelenting giggles.

                Harry was wearing Hagrid’s clothes.  His rough, dark green shirt was huge, the front portion tucked into equally massive pants.  The back of the shirt trailed on the floor not unlike the train of a wedding gown.  The brown patched pants bunched sloppily at his ankles, and the legs were wide enough to fit at least three Harrys each.  They were tied firmly to his waste by a bit of rope.  To add on to the humiliation of the huge size, the clothes were all dreadfully ragged, even by Hagrid’s standards.  It was obvious that not even Hagrid himself had worn these in a long time.

                “What?  It’s all I could find!” Harry scowled.  “The smallest size, too.  I think these are old school clothes.”

                “You - look - so - ridiculous!!” Tears were starting to run down her cheeks.  Harry looked nothing short of adorable.  “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a camera.  I’d kiss Colin Creevey on the mouth if he would let me photograph this!”

                “You’re doing wonders for my ego, thanks Hermione.”  Harry grumped.

                “Oh, I’m sorry.  It’s just that you look like Snape‘s underwear drawer just threw up on you.”  Hermione cracked, honestly trying her best to fight back the giggles but failing not quite so miserably.

                “Uh-huh.  I see.”  Harry smiled.  Then he darted forward with the speed of a seasoned Seeker and pulled the yellow Clotropesis out from Hermione’s pocket by the petals.  He aimed the flower at her.

                “Harry!  You wouldn’t!”

                “Wouldn’t I?”

                “Put that down right now!”

                “Hmm…” Harry brought his finger dangerously close to the stem.  “Say you’re sorry.”

                “I’m sorry!”

                “Nope, not enough.”

                “Harry!”

                “You’ve got to wear these clothes too.”

                Hermione stared at him.  “Are you serious?”

                Harry motioned to the trunk by the foot of Hagrid’s bed.  “There about four more outfits for you to choose from in there.”

                “You’re joking!”

                Harry aimed the flower again.

                “Okay!  Okay!  Just…turn around.”  Harry nodded and turned his back.  A few moments later Hermione gave him permission to turn back.  He was greeted to the sight of a blushing Hermione wearing what looked like a collapsed tent.  She smiled.

                “Beautiful.”  Harry murmured, gazing at her. 

                “Why thank you.  It’s the latest from the I’m-Trapped-In-A-Hut-With-A-Flower-Wielding-Psycho Autumn line.”  Hermione joked, twirling around like a fashion model.  The shirt lifted a bit, reveal her ankles and part of her shins.  Evidently she had chosen not to bother with the humongous pants.  She must have still been wearing her uniform skirt underneath.

                “I wasn’t talking about the shirt.” Harry said.  Then he cursed himself for thinking out loud.  This caught Hermione off guard, and the grin dropped from her face. 

                “Oh.  Well.  We should really find something to eat.” she said hastily, walking quickly into the kitchen.  Harry just stood there feeling stupid, listening to Hermione rummage around noisily.

                “Hermione?”

                “Yes, Harry?”

                He sighed.  Clearly she was not feeling what he was.  Then again, he himself wasn’t quite sure of what he was feeling. 

                No, I’m 100% positive of what I’m feeling.  I just don’t want to admit it.

                “Ah-hah!” Hermione cried triumphantly, and she pulled up a few boxes of Chocolate Frogs.  “Dinner is served.  Thank Merlin we didn’t have to eat those rock cakes Hagrid is so fond of.  I have this theory that Hogwarts’ foundation was built with Hagrid’s rock cakes.”

                Harry laughed; pushing away his conflicting feelings and leading Hermione back to the fireplace.  There they sat together, wrapped in Hagrid’s blanket, and spread the Chocolate Frogs between their tangled legs.  Harry felt a twinge of awkwardness between them, which was odd since they had sat together by countless fires before.  But something made this moment different.

                “Sorry.”  Hermione said, after a long silence.

                “For what?”

                “Dragging you out here in this storm.”

                Harry tentatively put his arm around her shoulders.  When she accepted him and leaned towards him he relaxed a bit.  “It’s a good thing I led us here.  No WAY we would have made it back to the castle.” Harry grinned cheekily.

                “Oh, you led us here for shelter?  And here I was, thinking you were blindly leading us to the middle of nowhere and I accidentally crashed into a big pumpkin.”  Hermione grinned with him.  

                “That’s what I wanted you to think.”

                She slapped him playfully and settled her head on his shoulder.  She caught sight of the yellow Clotropesis thrown haphazardly on Hagrid’s bed.

                “Harry, do you believe in fate?”

                He thought for a moment.  “It would be kind of hard not to, considering I’m fated to save the world or die trying.” Harry raised an eyebrow.  “Why, you don’t?”

                “I don’t know.  It doesn’t give us much hope, does it?”

                “No it doesn’t.  If you already know what’s going to happen, there’s really no changing it.”

                Hermione shifted uncomfortably.  “But you don’t know.”

                “What?”

                “You don’t know if you’ll beat Voldemort or not.”  Hermione repeated, looking up at Harry’s emerald eyes.  She saw comprehension in them, as he thought over what she had said.

                “You’re right.  I don’t.  But I know it will be me to beat Voldemort.”

                “Or die trying.”

                “You know, this isn’t the most cheerful conversation in the world.”  Harry pointed out, looking down at the girl bunched up against him.  “Perhaps we can talk about something that doesn’t involve death or evil Dark Lords?”

                “All right.”

                “Besides, I know I’m the one in the Prophecy.  Whether or not I beat Voldemort, I’ll be doing something.  It’s fated.”  Harry continued.  Okay, so maybe he did feel like talking about this now.

                “Well, everyone does ‘something’ to bring about the future, Harry.”

                “Well it’s only ME that will defeat Voldemort.”

                “Or die trying.”

                “Excuse me, but are we going in an extremely morbid circle with this here, or is it just me?”  Harry demanded, pulling roughly away from Hermione.

                “Harry, my point is that if you die fighting Voldemort, which is possible, you’d be like everyone else who fought Voldemort and died.  Like your parents.”  Hermione explained.  She saw how Harry flinched at the mention of his parents, but she continued anyway.  She wanted to get her point across.  “And they didn’t have any prophecies or anything.  They did what they did and had stuff happen on their own, their future held so many choices.  If you died, then it wouldn’t matter about the part with you defeating Voldemort.  One or the other.  If there was a choice, how could that be fate?  Fate allows choices?  Doesn’t that defeat the whole idea of fate?”

                Harry looked in awe at the girl in front of him, speaking about his death so calmly and logically.  Hermione sat, looking straight into his eyes as if she were forcing herself to be brave. 

                But he understood.  The prophecy had given him a choice.

                “Then what was the point of giving me a prophecy?”

                “I don’t know…”  Hermione murmured.  Harry knew that Hermione had complete disdain for everything Divination, but he could see that she had been troubled about the Prophecy ever since he revealed it to her and Ron.  Even more so than him, probably.  It may have been the one thing that she was ever unsure about, that her logical mind could not make full sense of.  Yet she was trying her hardest, for his sake.

                Another silence ensued as they each tried to ponder fate.  Unconsciously they found themselves wrapped up together again, Hermione’s head on Harry’s shoulder and his arm around hers.  To his own surprise as well as Hermione’s, Harry planted a soft kiss on her forehead.  Hermione blinked, and then looked up.

                Thinking he had maybe overstepped his boundaries, Harry stammered.  “Um, good night.  It’s, uh, really late now.  You can have Hagrid’s bed if you want…”

                Hermione had an unreadable expression on her face as Harry babbled.  Then, after coming to her own conclusion, she placed a warm hand on Harry’s burning cheek and kissed him directly on the lips. 

                Harry was startled at first, this being the first time Hermione had kissed him anywhere other than the cheek, then leaned in comfortably.  It was strange how natural this felt, kissing his best friend.  Nothing like kissing your sister, as Ron imagined it would feel.  They each deepened the kiss and were lost in their own little world, stabbing cold and howling winds forgotten, as their arms pulled each other closer together.  Finally, they pulled apart and breathed deeply. 

                Hermione looked down.  “Sorry, I - “

                “No, its okay - “

                “I thought - “

                “Hermione, its fine - “

                “Since, you know, I thought - “

                “Hermione!” Harry took her shoulders.  “It’s okay.  You thought right.”

                Hermione met his eyes again.  “So you have been feeling something?”

                “Yeah” Harry said honestly.  “I only wish I could have made the first move…”

                Hermione couldn’t help but snicker.  “Well it took you too bloody long.”

                “Sorry.”  Harry hugged Hermione closer.  “But for some reason, I didn’t think it was mutual.  Or natural.”

                “It is mutual…”

                “Yeah.”

                “Natural?”

                “Did it feel that way?” Harry asked.

                “Actually yeah…it did.”  Hermione whispered.  “For me, at least.”  She added quickly.

                “Me too.”  Harry smiled.  Hermione smiled back.  For the first time in a long time all awkwardness with Harry seemed to melt away.  The kiss had made it easier…

                “Did you always want to do that?” Harry wondered.

                “Well, kind of…”  Hermione blushed.  “Harry, if you think I will just send you off on some ego-trip - “

                “No, no.  It’s just…I have for a while.”

                Hermione felt it was time to lighten the mood.  “Yes, well some hero you are.  Making the damsel go first.  Is there some macho law you just broke?”

                Harry laughed.  “Yeah.  I suspect my beheading is at dawn.  But luckily with all this snow I doubt anyone would be able to differentiate between night and dawn anyway so I guess I’m off the hook.”

                “You know, I didn’t really notice anything weird between us until tonight…”  Hermione said, in a puzzled tone.  “Even I feel my kiss was kind of…sudden.”

                “Actually, yeah, I’ve always had feelings for you but they were kind of…magnified while we were in here.”

                “Me too.”  Hermione looked deep in thought.  Harry groaned, if Hermione thought too much they would never get to sleep.  Lord knows, she had way too many thoughts.

                “Listen, how about we sleep now?  Like I said, you could take the bed - “

                “Are you kidding, Harry?  Grawp would fit on this bed!”  Hermione hopped up onto Hagrid’s bed and pulled him up. 

                “But we just kissed.”

                “So?”

                “Doesn’t that mean - “

                “Of course it does, Harry.  But you are not sleeping on that frozen floor.  Just as long as you keep your hands to yourself…”

                “No guarantees.”  Harry was grinning playfully now.

                “Well, then have fun peeling your frozen bum off that floor in the morning.”

                “Okay, all right.  Let me in.”  Harry climbed by Hermione’s side and they pulled the enormous blanket over themselves. 

                It was odd.  Harry knew that a couple minutes ago he would have felt vastly uncomfortable sleeping in the same bed as Hermione.  When his feelings were being kept to himself, being in close quarters with her was awkward.  But now that all was revealed…

                “Harry, stop pulling the blanket.”

                “I’m not!”

                Hermione glared at him and held up the small portion she had in her fist.

                “Oh.  Sorry.”

                Then they fell in silence.

                “Hermione, I thought you said ‘hands to yourself’.”

                “I could say the same to you!”  Hermione said, slapping his thigh under the blanket.

                “Hey!  You’re the one tickling me!”

                “No, you’re tickling me!”

                They stared at each other in the relative darkness.

                “AHH!”  Hermione yelped and threw the blanket off their bodies to find out what small hairy creature Hagrid had left in his bed.

                To their surprise, it wasn’t a face-eating beaver or some other monster that was tickling their legs.  Between them laid the Clotropesis, its stiff leaves spread wide.

                “Bloody flower.” Harry commented.  He picked it up gingerly.  “Hey, what was it you said these flowers do?  You said they had some magic power or something?”

                “Yes.”  Hermione took the flower from him and turned away to stow the flower safely in her coat pocket.  “They say they give people a hint about their fate.  It’s like, they sort of steer you in fate’s direction and hint about the future and stuff like that.  Sounds as woolly as Divination to me, though.”

                When she turned back she was surprised to find an amused grin on Harry’s face.

                “What?”

                “Nothing.”

                “All right, well let’s get some sleep then.”  She made herself comfortable again and started to close her eyes.  Five minutes later Harry softly tapped her shoulder.

                “Hermione?”

                “Yes, Harry?”

                “I think I kind of believe in fate.  A little.”

                “Why?”  Hermione faced him, still lying down.

                Harry didn’t answer at first.  Instead he planted a kiss on her lips.  “Just because.  Remind me to read up on that flower tomorrow?”

                “Okay…”