Seeking Hermione's Bean
Title: Seeking Hermione's Bean (10)
Author name: Romulus Lupin
Author email: galigad@yahoo.com
Category: Romance
Sub Category: Humour
Keywords: Harry Hermione Bertie Botts Beans
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF
Summary: Where did Harry bring Hermione after escaping from Filch? What are the teachers sniggering
about during dinner? Why were Neville, Seamus and Dean about to hex Parvati? Why is Ginny hissing like a basilisk? And
will Harry and Hermione ever kiss? :P
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AUTHOR NOTES: My deepest gratitude to the many, many reviewers of this story which started out as a challenge posed by Jordan (pok) last year, found inspiration in andie's (pottergirl786) beautiful story, "Beyond A Kiss", and which has gone into areas and dimensions that I never planned for when I started it.
My deepest thanks also to everyone for their patience in waiting for me to continue this story, as well as the gentle reminders from readers to keep updating this story.
I'm dedicating this story also to two wonderful people who provided some insights that helped me complete this chapter: Lisa (McGonagall) whose essay ("A Heart Once Given… A Love Beyond Imagining?") on the Pumpkin Army forum provided some insights I needed, and to Gillian Halliwell, whose colourful view of the world is something I will always cherish.
Without further ado…
Chapter 10. Walks and Talks
A visibly smirking Minerva McGonagall collapsed in her seat at the teacher's table in the Great Hall, grateful for the hidden passages and private lifts that only the Headmaster and his Deputy knew, which had allowed them to make good time from Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall, arriving just as dinner was being served. She took a sip from her goblet, using the opportunity to stop giggling as she savored the memory of a frightened Albus Dumbledore crouching in a broom close, prepared to fight off what he thought were her amorous advances. `Damn!' she thought to herself. `I wish I had a camera! Albus has been getting away with his omniscient, all-knowing, all-powerful mantle for too long. It would have been nice if I had a memento of that moment…'
"Care to share the joke, Minerva?"
She looked up to see the inquiring eyes of Amanda Vector, Hogwarts' resident authority on Arithmancy, who was looking over her goblet, an eyebrow raised. McGonagall felt, more than saw, Dumbledore's anxiety as he waited for her response-and she would have bet ten Galleons right then that the old coot was fighting down a blush… too bad his beard would cover his red face, she thought irreverently.
She shook her head at her colleague and felt the Headmaster relax. "Nothing, Amanda," she replied cheerfully. "Just remembering something I never thought I'd see…"
"Albus!" The teachers turned to see Professor Flitwick climbing up to his usual chair a few seats down from Dumbledore. In a worried voice, he continued, "Some of my Ravenclaws told me just now… something about Mr. Potter attacking his classmates and blasting Hagrid's house to smithereens?"
"What?" Remus Lupin (who had just arrived to substitute for Moody in DADA while the latter left on a mission for the Order) was pushing back his chair even as Hagrid's angry reaction ("He din't-") was stopped at a raised hand from the Headmaster, who turned to Flitwick with a raised eyebrow.
"An exaggeration, Filius," Dumbledore said. "Harry was… uhm… provoked earlier this afternoon and let loose a burst of uncontrolled magic which… rearranged the inside of Hagrid's hut. Unfortunately, his classmates were with him and they were caught in the blast of Harry's magic."
The old man paused for a second before addressing the teachers. "I would appreciate it-" he focused on the Heads of House around him (especially Professor Sinistra who was watching over Slytherin in Snape's absence)-"if you informed your students that it was nothing more than a prank gone wrong."
"Of course," the relieved Professor of Charms replied. "Although the students will, as I'm sure you know, come up with their own stories or theories as to what actually happened."
The Headmaster shrugged, accepting the caveat that Flitwick pronounced. He was about to turn to his soup dish when Remus, who had settled back in his chair spoke, "That must have been some provocation, Albus-"
"Probably someone making a joke about Miss Granger," interrupted Professor Sprout, who was seated beside McGonagall. "Mr. Potter has always been very protective of her."
Remus turned to Dumbledore and McGonagall, and saw them exchanging amused glances-and smiled, knowing that he could get the full story later. He was about to ask Professor Sprout to pass the salt when the latter addressed Professor Sinistra, who was seated beside him. "Care for a side bet, Lucy?" the dumpy Herbology Professor asked, a twinkle in her eye and a wide grin on her face. "As to when you'll catch Mr. Potter and Miss Granger sneaking down from the Astronomy Tower?"
"Sucker bet, Dorothy," the Astronomy teacher replied with dignity as the other teachers, including Remus, laughed. She turned a raised eyebrow on the Deputy Headmistress. "Besides, Minerva already caught them coming down from the Tower in their first year…"
"Hem, hem," the teachers quickly fell silent at the slightly reprimanding tone of the Headmaster. "I think it's inappropriate to be discussing our students' personal lives-"
"Oh, posh, Albus-you know the students can't hear us," Professor Sprout shot back as she gestured at the air around them-the act causing a slight shimmer which meant that a ward was in place between their table and the students to keep the latter from overhearing the teachers' conversations. A decidedly fiendish grin broke out on her always-benevolent face as she continued, "Besides, a little bird told me that you and Filius lost fifty Galleons in a side bet… something about Mr. Potter and Miss Granger becoming an item over the Christmas hols?"
For a brief second, any student who happened to look at the teacher's table would have been reminded of a fishmonger's stall with its collection of fresh-caught, mouth-agape fish: the other teachers looking in shock at Dumbledore and Flitwick; the two, with suddenly flustered faces, staring in surprise at the smirking Sprout.
The sudden silence was broken by Professor Vector's awed voice: "Fifty--? You were that confident, Albus?"
Before the Headmaster could respond, Remus Lupin spoke up, a feral growl evident beneath his normally calm voice: "You and Filius wouldn't have anything to do with the Weasley's `Very Merrie Mistletoe,' would you now, Albus?"
"Mistletoe?" a puzzled Professor Sprout asked, but was interrupted by an explosive cough from the Headmaster which caused the teachers to fall silent: "As I was about to say… I think it's inappropriate to talk about our students' personal lives at the teacher's table. We have our Common Room for such discussions."
There were soft snorts up and down the long table, the teachers trying to stifle their laughter, giggle or snigger at the reminder of their Common Room-and its enormous blackboard where the teachers' bets on who would end up with whom and when were posted and where, unknown to the student hucksters, the bets placed on Harry and Hermione easily rivaled the combined student betting pools by a wide margin.
"Who are we talking about?" The teachers glanced up as a clearly harassed Madam Pomfrey took her seat beside Hagrid, immediately reaching for a goblet and draining it before banging it down in exhaustion.
"`arry and Hermione, Ma'am Pomfrey," Hagrid whispered to her.
"Oh," she replied, shrugging. She slumped in her seat for a moment before suddenly sitting up with an excited grin. "That reminds me, Filius-you seem to have called it correctly… Weasley and Lovegood are well on their way to becoming an item."
"Really?" Flitwick clapped his hands in glee, bouncing and almost falling from his cushions. "Oh good! Severus won't be happy-he's about the only one left who believes that Miss Granger and Mister Weasley would become an item."
"He's just being bloody-minded, Filius-to say nothing of being grouchy, to boot. You know how he is," Professor Sinistra said, and then she shuddered. "Remember how long he's been saying that Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Granger will get together before they leave?" Shaking herself, the acting Head of Slytherin House turned to Madam Pomfrey, "Mr. Weasley and Miss Lovegood, hey? Are you sure, Catherine?"
"Why do you think I look so harassed, Lucy?" The school nurse sighed as Hagrid solicitously ladled beef stew on her plate. "I was going to Stun Miss Lovegood so she would leave Mr. Weasley in peace… in any case, I asked the house elves to keep an eye on the Hospital Wing in case she tries to sneak in tonight!"
"It's that bad?" a surprised Remus asked. "The last time you had the house elves guarding the Hospital Wing-"
"-was when Lily Evans was there, and James kept trying to sneak in," finished Madam Pomfrey with a laugh. "James could be as hard-headed as young Mr. Potter… although, come to think of it, the house-elves would probably be keeping me out of my own hospital if Mr. Potter decides to see Miss Granger outside visiting hours!"
"Or if `ermione tries to sneak in to see `arry," Hagrid said, with a booming laugh.
"Speaking of Miss Granger," Professor Vector said as the laughter died down, "have you seen her this afternoon, Minerva?"
Surprised at the abrupt change in topic, the head of Gryffindor House caught herself just in time, and shook her head: "Y-No… not since luncheon, I think. Why? Is anything wrong?"
"She wasn't in my class today," Professor Vector answered.
"That's strange," McGonagall replied, a puzzled tone in her voice. "Miss Granger is rather conscientious when it comes to her classes."
"It's no big deal, Minerva," the Arithmancy professor said as she waved a hand in dismissal. "It's not as if the world would end if she doesn't show up; I just thought I'd mention it."
A concerned Deputy Headmistress turned to the school nurse- "No, she hasn't been in to see me," Madam Pomfrey responded to the silent question. Before McGonagall could turn her head, Madam Pince spoke up: "I haven't seen her in the library this afternoon, either."
McGonagall's eyes swept the Great Hall-and widened as she realized that her Gryffindor sixth-years-and one red-headed witch-were absent from their table, which was buzzing with a noticeable air of palpable excitement and energized chattering. Frowning, her eyes quickly quartered the Great Hall, pausing for a second on the Ravenclaw table but she shook her head, realizing that it was Padma Patil that she saw-
And blinked as a petite, red-headed witch entered the Great Hall, flanked by Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, their eyes sweeping the tables as if looking for someone… and then Ginny gestured to someone outside the doors, for all the world as if she were inviting that someone-or some ones-in.
The young witch's actuations caught the interest of the teachers, who turned to watch as the missing Gryffindor boys (except for Harry and Ron) entered the Hall-Seamus, Neville and Dean with their backs to each other, eyes darting around as if watching for a Death Eater ambush… the three girls looking at them with eyes rolling in exasperation-
"Parvati!" Padma Patil's joyful shout caused heads to turn all over the Great Hall-and jaws to drop in disbelief at the sight of wands snapping up and pointing at the approaching Ravenclaw-quickly followed by hands hitting flesh as Ginny, Lavender and Parvati either slapped wand-hands down or smacked the heads of their male classmates…
"I TOLD you they weren't here-now just go to your seats, and SIT!"
A palpable shiver ran through the Great Hall at the angry hissing of the red-haired witch; for a moment, Minerva McGonagall wondered if Ginny had been taking voice lessons from a basilisk. The surprised teachers watched as the Gryffindor boys meekly followed the orders of the half-pint witch… only to blink as a hoarse whisper escaped Hagrid's lips: "Where's `arry an' Hermione?"
*
"Put me down, Harry."
There was no reply, only a brief tightening of the arms around her, and she sighed in exasperation.
"Harry…" she said, and again there was no response-only a momentary shifting of her body as he tried to settle her more comfortably in his arms. "Harry Potter!"
Harry's head snapped around and her heart stopped when she saw the burning green eyes of the Harry Potter of their fifth year: intense, angry… his raging temper held back by the thinnest of margins. She felt herself stiffening in his arms even as her suddenly dry throat gave a quiet gulp-and felt her herself going limp as his expression softened… felt herself melting as his eyes shifted from a piercing emerald-green to the soothing tones of a meadow basking in the glow of a cloudless day. Harry's eyes-so angry and intense mere moments before-were now full of concern, full of worry: Harry Potter in full saving-people-mode.
"You're not that heavy, Hermione." It was a voice that she'd often heard in her dreams: gentle, soft, caring… speaking as if she were the only person in his world, caressing her with its gentleness-and she had to fight against the sudden urge to simply swoon in his arms.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Was that her voice, Hermione wondered? When did it become throaty, when did she ever sound so helpless, so beseeching, so vulnerable-
He bit his lower lip in response-a action so familiar that Hermione's thoughts were thrown off for a second before she realized why: it was something that her mother did… gesture that she'd unconsciously adopted and never realized she had until her roommates called her on it… but her thoughts were interrupted as, with a soft sigh, Harry gently set her on her feet…
She felt a wave of nausea course through her-the bump on the head, being carried around for what seemed like hours, her addled brain as she gloried in the sensation of being in Harry's arms, had all taken its toll, and she found herself falling, only to find herself wrapped again in Harry's arms.
She took a deep breath as she rested her head on Harry's chest… and sighed in contentment. It felt different, she thought… she'd hugged him and been hugged by him before, but this was different… so warm, so comfortable-she knew that she could fall asleep standing up and wake refreshed and relaxed, for as long as Harry was the one holding her…
She shook those thoughts off as she felt the rumbling in his chest and sensed the frustration in his voice: "I don't understand it, Hermione… the stairs just keep moving and shifting! It's as if they don't want to let us go…"
His ranting stopped as they heard something growling-instinctively, she let go of Harry as she grabbed her wand and spun around, back to back with him as they scanned for the threat-and gritted her teeth in embarrassment when they heard the growl again-and realized it was coming from the region of her empty stomach.
She tried to hide her face behind her hair as she heard Harry's amused voice asking, "Hungry, Hermione?"
The afternoon had taken quite a toll on her, she knew-rushing to Harry's dorm, and forgetting to even have a bite of the sandwiches she'd grabbed at lunch… panicking when Sir Nick told her that Harry hadn't shown up for Divination… sneaking around the castle and Hagrid's hut in the Invisibility Cloak with Carolyn and Cindy… pacing the Common Room in a towering rage and then, and then-
"We better try to get to the Great Hall for dinner-"
"NO!"
The word was out of her mouth in a rush, and she backed away as a wave of mortification pulsed through her body. There was no way, she thought, no fecking way that she would show her face in the Great Hall tonight… not until her classmates were asleep in their dormitories… not until she could apologize… explain… enlighten them-especially Lavender and Parvati-
"What's wrong, Hermione?"
She bit her lip as she tried to form an answer to that worried voice, tried to find the words to explain-shuddered as she felt his warm hand on her shoulder as the other hand went under her chin and made her look into his eyes-
"Hermione?"
"I… I…" She gulped and took in a deep breath-
*
"She what?" The shocked voice echoed over the noise of the tinkling utensils and murmuring voices, quickly met by a vicious shushing from the Gryffindors and fearful glances cast at the teacher's table. A highly-embarrassed Padma Patil lowered her head and looked guiltily around before continuing in a whisper, "Are you serious?"
Across her, Ginny turned away, biting her lip hard to keep from retorting, "No, he's not-he is." Head down, she murmured a soft prayer for the eternal soul of Harry's godfather and looked up as Padma continued in an awed tone, "Are you telling me that Hermione Granger just stood there and hexed you?"
"Hush! Not so loud, Pad!" Her twin glanced up at the teacher's table and looked around, noting that the only people who were interested in their conversation were her fellow Gryffindors. Turning back to her wide-eyed sister, Parvati continued in a low voice, "Yes, she did … I thought I was doing quite well but her Stunner just blew through my shield and caught me. Next thing I knew, Ginny was waking me up…"
"But why would she do that?" Padma's eyes narrowed dangerously at her twin. "You weren't flirting with Harry, were you?"
"You think I'm nuts?" The harsh response caused heads to turn from all over the Hall and Parvati quickly lowered her head as she feigned interest in her plate.
"I think she was trying to hex Dean, Pad," Lavender broke in with a hard glare at the dark-skinned Gryffindor who was resolutely staring down at his plate, giving his vegetables the plate tour. "She was bloody mad when we came in, but she was just glaring at us… and then Dean walked in with these bozos"-gesturing to Seamus and Neville who were emulating Dean-"and, wham!"
"But why would she do that?" The eyes of the Ravenclaw witch narrowed into a piercing glare worthy of their mascot spotting prey-a look which the three sixth-year boys refused to meet. "Does this have anything to do with Harry blowing up Hagrid's hut?"
"What was that?" Katie Bell asked even as Colin Creevy and the other fifth-years in Hagrid's class slapped their hands to their foreheads. In the excitement of the Battle of the Common Room, they had forgotten to impart the story to their House-and Seamus, Neville and Dean were soon sweating under the combined glare of their housemates-including two young witches who were struggling to keep from spilling the beans. Carolyn and Cindy's glares were worth any four of the Gryffindors, because they knew why Hermione had hexed the Gryffindor boys (and girls, in a classic case of collateral damage)-and they were still trying to erase the pictures from the hut that was burned into their eyelids.
Ginny, for her part, was looking away, frowning and biting her lip as she pondered a key question: how did Hermione find out? The last time she saw her friend was during lunch at this very table-worried and panicked over Harry's non-appearance. She left soon after the others left for Divination… Hermione wasn't anywhere near herself or Luna as they were discussing how to follow the boys that afternoon…
And blinked when she saw the fierce glares of Carolyn and Cindy, and her eyes narrowed in speculation: the Terrible Two were sitting beside her and Luna at lunch… they were the only ones other than Hermione, Ron and herself who knew about Harry's invisibility cloak-hell, she thought, they weren't known as Harry and Hermione's Spawn for nothing!
She opened her mouth to say something but was stopped as a small voice spoke up from somewhere among the younger years: "Miss Hermione just needs a taste of cojones to feel better."
A chorus of coughs and gagging sounds accompanied the sight of students spitting out juice and water all along the table-an action which caused the students in the other houses to look askance at the Gryffindors… which meant no one noticed that spits, gags and coughs had also erupted all along the teacher's table.
*
It was a sight seldom seen outside Gryffindor Tower: a slack-jawed, dazed and unbelieving Harry Potter staring at a red-faced Hermione Granger, the latter with her head down and looking everywhere but at him. In fact, the only people who would have seen such a tableau were Ron, McGonagall, Snape-and the long departed Quirrell, one Halloween night in a girl's bathroom years before.
Harry's mind, in fact, was echoing that same memory from his first year: Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, telling him that she'd hexed their classmates in the Common Room…
He opened his mouth to say something, but it felt as if Trevor had found lodgings in his throat, judging from the croak that he let out. He shut his mouth as he tried to swallow, to force Trevor away and say something-but his brain refused to comply as it was running around like a Gringotts' cart gone amuck: Hermione, crying in his arms minutes or hours before… the feel of her small fists on his chest as she beat on him in anger and frustration… her small, vulnerable voice as she asked him why he didn't trust her… the blinding, maddened rage that consumed him when she whispered, "Hermione's Bean, Harry?" to him… and now-admitting that she was at Hagrid's hut when Dean had unveiled his masterpiece.
He heard another low growl-and his mind shifted to more important things: Hermione was hungry, but the castle was stopping them from leaving the upper levels. He shook his head in frustration-and stopped. Hermione was right, he realized… it wouldn't do to try and catch up with dinner in the Great Hall… not after what had happened in the Common Room. If anything, he might start hexing his dorm-mates when he saw them… it wasn't enough for those idiots to have done that to Hermione and him… by now, the whole castle would have known what they were trying to do!
Clamping down on his building rage, Harry looked around, finally taking in his immediate surroundings-and blinked. He'd been increasingly annoyed with the interfering stairs… but he now realized that they had been nudging him towards a familiar corridor, and he smiled as he recognized Barnabas the Barmy and the trolls in tutus with their clubs.
Without hesitation, he started concentrating as he paced the blank wall, thinking of what he needed: a quiet place where he and Hermione could talk, where they could have something to eat, and where he could check the lump on her head…
Hermione, by this time, was frowning, wondering why he was pacing and muttering beneath his breath-the growling of her stomach distracting her enough that she didn't recognize their location, but her eyes widened when a highly polished door with a brass handle appeared.
Before she could utter a word, Harry had grabbed her hand and was pulling her towards the door which he opened. Before her mind could register the inside of the room, Harry had stepped back and bowed with a flourish-indicating the room as if he were an unctuous maitre d', he proclaimed, "Please, Madam… dinner is served."
*
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was over a thousand years old and, as Dumbledore said that afternoon, it still held secrets that Gred and Forge, the Marauders of past generations, or even Headmasters, knew nothing about. On the other hand, one secret that was passed down from Headmaster to Headmaster (and their Deputies) was a charm that allowed teachers to listen in on a particular table whenever needed.
The spell required the consent of both Headmaster and Deputy to activate; at the same time, all the teachers at the table were able to listen in-ensuring a check and balance to prevent a single person from abusing the students' privacy.
The near-hexing of Parvati by the Gryffindor boys made Dumbledore glance at McGonagall; a momentary meeting of the eyes and a nod of the head, and the charm was in place-and the conversation of the Gryffindors made the two roll their eyes in frustration.
There was no way, they both realized, that they could keep a lid on what happened in Hagrid's hut. At the same time, they would have to deal with the matter of a Prefect hexing her classmates…
"You Gryffindors really love to play with fire, don't you?" They blinked at the amused voice of Professor Sinistra, who continued in the same mordant tone as she cocked an eyebrow at the Deputy Headmistress. "No one in his right mind would even think of provoking those two-"
"Except for Mr. Malfoy, of course," McGonagall replied in a cutting tone.
Before the acting head of Slytherin could respond, Professor Sprout weighed in: "Well that's Slytherin for you-they may be cunning but they're not smart."
Lucretia Sinistra's scathing retort was aborted, however, as a young, clear voice came through the wards: "Miss Hermione just needs a taste of cojones to feel better"-which caused Professor Sprout, who had lifted her goblet to her lips after delivering her jab, to start coughing and spitting as the juice made its way up her nose, to the delighted smirk of the Slytherin professor.
Before the teachers could recover (especially Flitwick who'd fallen off his chair), they heard seventh-year Katie Bell's voice: "Do you know what cojones means, Mae?"
"Of course, Miss Bell," the young, earnest voice replied. "Father said that it's Spanish for beans."
This time, it was the continental-raised Sinistra's turn to spit out the juice she was about to imbibe, to Sprout's satisfied smirk. The other teachers-including Dumbledore-could only bite their lips as they suppressed their laughter when little Mae continued: "It's what my father always says when Mummy's in a bad mood-he'd say that Mummy just needed some cojones to make her feel better."
Muffled coughs and sniggers came from the Gryffindors, in perfect counterpart to the shaking heads and stifled laughter of the teachers. Professor Sinistra shook her head in disbelief as the little girl's story continued: "Daddy would give us some money and tell us to go out and play… my brothers, sisters and I would go to the park or the mall and we'll come back for dinner or later, and Mum would be all smiles and happy when we came back."
"Does that happen often, Mae?" Ginny spoke up, the curiosity apparent in her voice, and the professors held their breaths.
They watched little Mae nodding enthusiastically: "Oh yes… although sometimes, it would be Daddy who's in a bad mood, and Mummy would be the one to give us the money to go out and play."
"And your father would be all smiles and happy when you came back, is that right?"
"Yes, ma'am!" The enthusiastic little girl was hopping in her seat from excitement as the older Gryffindors (and the teachers) rolled their eyes. "Mummy and Daddy always said that it was something they could only give each other because they were in love… it wouldn't work for us kids because while we loved them, we were not in love with them."
"I see," Ginny replied, even as the teachers smiled and nodded into their plates or goblets. But it was apparent that the little girl wasn't done yet.
"I think Sir Harry should be the one to give Miss Hermione a taste of cojones, Miss Ginny," Mae Thompson continued, to another round of spits, gags and coughs. "It's obvious he's in love with her… as she is in love with him."
The pronouncement was met by silence at the teachers' and Gryffindor tables, followed by the rustling of a cooling breeze as soft sighs escaped mouths both young and old. A twinkling Albus Dumbledore met the smiling eyes of Minerva McGonagall as he pronounced, "Wisdom from the mouth of babes"-a pronouncement met with nods of agreement, as well as an explosive honk as Hagrid blew his nose on an enormous handkerchief.
"Finite." The Listening Charm ended, and the teachers silently contemplated each other, waiting for someone to break the silence.
"Ten Galleons that Miss Granger gets a taste of… beans tonight."
"Professor Flitwick!" The icy voice of the Deputy Headmistress lashed out, and Flitwick quickly wiped the grin from his face, for a brief moment looking no different from the students who had quailed under the infamous `McGonagall glare.' The others noted, however, a sudden tic at the corner of McGonagall's thin lips before she continued, "We have the Common Room for such bets."
Across the Great Hall, students looked up in surprise at a loud boom of laughter from the teacher's table-punctuated by enthusiastic applause as Professor Flitwick stood up and gave a short bow to McGonagall. The students looked at each other and shrugged, a single thought passing through their minds: "Who knows?"
Quickly followed by… "Who cares?"
*
"I'm going to kill Fred and George."
The venomous statement coming from the normally mild-mannered Harry Potter startled Hermione, and she could only gape at her best friend standing in front of a blazing fire in the Gryffindor Common Room-or the portion of it that the Room of Requirement provided them: an enormous but comfortable red-leather couch flanked by two comfortable armchairs in front of the fireplace, a low table in the center of couch and chairs loaded with a tureen of soup, plates of sandwiches, jugs of milk, juice and water along with a platter of cheeses and fruits as well as plates and utensils for two.
For the first time in a long while, Hermione had been totally focused on eating-not so much to satisfy her growling stomach, but because it gave her time to avoid Harry's eyes… and the talk they would have to have. She knew that it was no coincidence that the Room provided them with a replica of their Common Room-it was, after all, the starting point for many of her adventures with Harry and Ron… and the setting for so many late-night talks and so many memories, both good and bad, with the Boy-Who-Lived.
But Harry's words startled her-and she felt her brain go into overdrive: What did the Weasley's have to do with…
And felt the food she had eaten threaten to erupt out her throat as the realization struck: Fred and George's `Very Merrie Mistletoe' and the kiss that they shared beneath it… the kiss that went beyond anything and everything she had ever thought of or wanted… and, she now realized-it was that kiss that may be at the root of everything that happened today…
And felt her chest and stomach squeezed in an unrelenting vise as Harry's next words confirmed her fears: "I'm sorry, Hermione… I shouldn't have…"
Harry's voice faded out as a roar of blood invaded her ears… She felt as if her whole body was collapsing into some deep hole in her heart. She knew it… she knew it… the truth that she'd realized in the corridor outside the tower before Harry found her: there was nothing that she could ever show or offer Harry Potter, except her friendship and her brains.
She doubled over from the sudden pain in her gut, her hair falling over her face in her automatic defense mechanism… and shook her head violently from side to side as a jeering rhyme started in her mind: Lanky, gangly Hermione Granger… Lanky, gangly Hermione Granger…
Through the roar in her ears, she heard Harry's flat voice as he pronounced her doom: "I'm sorry, Hermione… You deserve someone better than me… you deserve someone who loves you and respects you for what you are… not someone who looks at you and sees nothing but your face and your body… who can think of nothing but shagging you-"
For some reason, the last three words out of Harry's mouth penetrated Hermione's pounding brain-and she stared at Harry in shock, even as Harry caught his breath at he realized what he had said. Before Harry could move, Hermione shot out of her seat and charged him-"WHAT?"
The question was a roar and for the Boy-Who-Lived, the young wizard who'd faced battle and confrontation with some of the vilest creatures in the magical world, it felt that the world-his world-was teetering on the brink…
Had he said that? Had he actually told Hermione that he was thinking of shagging her… that he was thinking such lewd, guttery thoughts… that he was not thinking of her in a friendly way but as hormonally-addled, testosterone-driven, lust-frenzied guy?
Fear unimagined and unimaginable grabbed him in jaws of ice and steel.
It was a fear he had never experienced before-a fear all-consuming and far more frightening than Voldemort: all that the sick bastard ever wanted to take away was his life but his big mouth threatened to take away the thing that he realized he treasured most: Hermione, his lovely, beautiful, wonderful Hermione…
He felt the blood draining from his face and he turned to bolt, to run away and hide-maybe grab his Firebolt and challenge Voldemort to a duel because he would rather die now and take the bastard with him than think of a life without Hermione-
But Hermione's hands were fisted on his robe, and her eyes boring into his… the intensity of her gaze turning her brown eyes darker, more menacing, and more dangerous than Riddle's red eyes could ever be as she asked in a quiet whisper laden with menace and power: "Are you telling me that you think I'm sexy?"
He wanted to deny it… his survival instincts were telling him to say "no," to scream "NO!" to that question… but her eyes-those eyes that he could never lie to, those eyes that he always tried to avoid whenever he had something to hide, those eyes that knew the depths of his tortured soul… and he knew he had lost: there was no way he could say anything but the absolute truth, no way but to admit to the base realities even as his throat tried to stop him…
"Yes," he squeaked.
He braced himself for what was to come: tensing for the blow, the slap, the whack that he deserved… his knees locking together to keep her feet from kicking him where it would hurt most… felt his arms tense as his hand tried to remember where his wand was-
Only to let out an explosive gasp of surprise as Hermione lunged, her arms going around him in a rib-crushing hug even as her bushy hair went flying all over his face and his still-open mouth even and his ears registered the muffled voice coming from where she'd buried it in his chest: "Thank you… thank you… Oh Harry, you don't know… you'd never understand… you can't…"
And he stood there in frozen shock, although his arms had instinctively wrapped around her… unconsciously rubbing her back in an automatic gesture of comfort as his addled brain tried to make sense of what she was saying. He wanted to step back, to push her away for a moment just so he could look her in the eye… just so he could ask her the questions suddenly boiling to the top of his head, but his once-dry and clogged throat could only croak out something else: "You… you're not mad at me… you're not angry at me?"
He heard a sniffle from the mass of hair on his chest and he tried to step back but her arms tightened once again around him, keeping him close to her even as she mumbled through the flood of emotion that assaulted her: "I never thought… never believed… that anyone, anybody… would think of me as beautiful… sexy, even…"
"Hermione." She felt his hands on her shoulders, pressing gently down… felt him taking an awkward step back and she fought with her natural instinct to let him go but she couldn't, she wouldn't-she didn't want to let go but his hands, though gentle, were unrelenting in their pressure and she had to let go… she had to step back-
And felt his hands, callused from gripping broomstick and wand, run from her shoulders to her neck… felt the roughness of his thumbs as they brushed her cheeks, felt his fingers weave behind her neck and tangle in her hair… felt his palms gently lifting her head so she could look at him but she refused-her eyes turned away, unwilling to look into his eyes now that her emotions had been drained and shattered-
"Don't you have a mirror in your dormitory, Hermione?"
The absurdity of the question made Hermione turn around-and impale herself on the worried, caring eyes of Harry Potter as his words washed into her brain: "Haven't you been looking at yourself, Hermione? You're beautiful… you're so beautiful that I sometimes wonder how I could so lucky… to have as my best friend the smartest and most beautiful witch in Hogwarts…"
But Hermione wasn't listening-because her eyes were now looking into the only mirrors that would ever really matter: Harry's eyes, reflecting her image back at her. There were mirrors in her dorm-between Lavender and Parvati, they had a surfeit of mirrors of all kinds from full-length to make-up with lights all around the rim-but she had never really looked at herself.
But now… as she looked at her reflection in Harry's eyes, she began to see what she had always avoided seeing before: her bushy brown hair transformed into soft, wavy curls in different shades of brown as the firelight danced in them… her eyes, which she had always thought of as a dull, uninteresting shade of brown altered into lively, dancing shades of cinnamon as they shimmered with tears… her nose, always an uninteresting feature, now seen as others saw it: pert, cute and flaring slightly as she breathed raggedly in and out… and her lips-always so pale and dry-but in reality, full and (to her surprise) so kissable, her lower lip slightly swollen from her nervous habit of biting it…
Tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes as the revelations slammed through her, and she felt her knees going weak and she could only cling tighter to Harry as she found her voice: "Oh Harry… why didn't you just tell me?"
Unaccountably, she felt Harry's body stiffening with tension… felt his hands, so warm as they rested on her chin, her neck and her hair give a slight spasm as if they were about to strangle her-and she realized that his eyes had gone cold and angry-
Her words had knifed through his brain. He could never have conceived of her as being insecure… never would have believed that she didn't spend the time glancing into mirrors like the other girls he had known-yes, even Cho who he had seen glancing at the mirrors of the Hogsmeade shops as she passed, not to window-shop but to admire herself-and his mind had leaped to the other time, only minutes before, when he'd heard those words from her: hitting him with her small fists as he held her, mumbling distractedly, "You should have told me, Harry… you know I would do anything for you, don't you? We've been friends for so long… you're my dearest, dearest friend… I would do anything for you…
"Did you have to go and tell Dean about it when you could have talked to me… you should have talked to me, Harry… you know I would have done anything for you… You didn't have to go to Dean and the others if all you needed was… was…"
That was all it ever was, he thought, as the anger started coursing through him: poor, miserable, pitiful Harry Potter-The-Boy-Who-Lived, Defender of the Light Against All Things Evil and Yucky… whose first kiss was nothing more than a memory of being drowned by tears as the girl he thought liked him for who he was, was actually looking for a connection to her dead boyfriend-and now, now he realized once again that even his best friend, the one he was holding in his arms, the one whose lips and taste had bedeviled his brain and his mind for the past three days saw him the same way: poor, pathetic, pitiable Harry Potter, whose first real snog was under an enchanted mistletoe with his best friend-his lovely, beautiful and brilliant best friend-who saw him the same way, who would have kissed him if he had only asked because she was SORRY FOR HIM-
Her worried "Harry?" sounded in his ears and he tried to push her away, but she wouldn't let go-he felt the arms around him tighten as he tried to step away… and heard his voice emulating Voldemort's cold, cold voice as he said, "I don't want your pity, Hermione."
The words cut through her brain and she froze-gaping in surprise at her best friend for a moment before her brain went into overdrive as she analyzed the surprising words. It took her less than a second to make the connection with their conversation in the corridor outside Gryffindor Tower… slightly more to jump to the next dot in Harry's thinking, and her mind quickly moved from dot to dot as she remembered everything that she had ever known or felt or realized in her years of friendship with Harry Potter from the shock when she'd hugged him in the Chamber beneath the school in their first year… to the discomfort that suffused him when she'd slammed into him in the Great Hall in second year… to his statue-like stance as she held on to him while riding Buckbeak in third… his stupefied look when she'd kissed his cheek in fourth…
And as each memory ran through her mind, she could feel her anger building up as if someone kept throwing gasoline on a blazing fire-all those times, all those moments when she'd lost control and allowed her fear for the boy in front of her get the better of her… and all he could think was that she pitied him?
She had to move… she had to act… she had to do something before her anger consumed her and, with a blur that even she would never be able to remember, she dropped her hands from his back, shifted them to his chest and, with every ounce of her weight behind it, shoved him away from her even as the rage burst out of her mouth: "PITY YOU? WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, HARRY POTTER? SOME KIND OF SLUT WHO WOULD GO AROUND KISSING PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE I PITY YOU? IF I WERE THAT KIND OF GIRL, I WOULD HAVE KISSED RON A LONG TIME AGO-HE'S ALWAYS BEEN BEGGING ME FOR A KISS… HE'S ALWAYS TRYING TO ACT SO PITIFUL, SO MISERABLE… I WANTED TO KISS YOU BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, HARRY POTTER!"
He could only gape at the raving banshee in front of him-he had wanted to walk away from her but her shoving him had caught him by surprise and he'd fallen on the couch in surprise-he'd wanted to lash out but was frozen into silence as she stood over him, fists clenched at her sides, tears falling from her eyes, mouth working away in her red, flushed face as she screamed at him…
Her words slammed at him like sledgehammers-and he cringed as she called herself a slut because of his words. He wanted to stop her, to apologize for his thoughtless words but her declaration of her real feelings slammed into him once again and he could only stare at her in shock as his brain went into overdrive, bringing back so many moments of their life so far: Hermione casting the Full-Body Bind on Neville… her fur-lined face when she had turned into a cat in second… throwing the fine chain of her Time-Turner around his neck in third… her exhausted face as she coached him in fourth… her frightened face as she argued with him, tried to stop him from his reckless need to get to Sirius last year…
He wanted to curl into a ball of misery… wanted to be nothing more than the frightened little boy in the cupboard beneath the stairs on Privet Drive as he realized the magnitude of his blindness, the scale of his stupidity and the enormity of pain that he'd been causing his best and dearest friend…
"I HATE YOU, HARRY POTTER!"
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them but she didn't care, she couldn't care at this moment as she glared at her best friend, the one she had always believed had more than the emotional range of a teaspoon-and she stormed for the door, her shoes clicking harshly in the eerie silence of the room.
The words broke through Harry's shell of misery-and finally tapped into the hidden reservoir of determination that lay hidden within him: that fortitude and strength of mind that had helped him confront Voldemort/Quirrell, that gave him the strength to stab the basilisk's fang into Riddle's diary, that helped power his Patronus in third year-that tiny, final bit of power that pushed the golden beads of light into Voldemort's wand in the graveyard of Little Hangleton and threw him into a mad rush after Bellatrix Lestrange-
He leaped over the back of the couch and he was on Hermione in a few long strides, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace-
But she would have none of it.
Her elbow crashed into his chest as his arms came around her, but he wouldn't let go and she fought back-slamming her fists into his chest with enough force to rock him back for a moment and her hand was moving up in a blur and she connected with his face in a slap powerful enough to snap his head to one side as his glasses flew off somewhere and she turned away again…
Only for Harry to grab her again, wrapping his arms around her in a hug that immobilized her arms but not her legs as she tried to kick him, to jump out and away from his crushing grip but he wouldn't let go, wouldn't let her leave, wouldn't let the only bright light in his life go away-
He felt the blows on his body and his face but accepted them as his due-accepted them as his punishment for every moment that he'd hurt her, every moment that he'd ignored her or kept things from her-and there was nothing he could do now but hold her tightly to him as she tried to break away, two and three words coming from his lips as the tears flowed from his naked eyes: "I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Hermione…"
And Hermione finally gave up-her emotions and strength draining away as Harry's words penetrated her fevered brain, and she slid bonelessly to the floor, Harry following her down with his arms still around her… and as they sat on the floor, she felt her own anger break down and she turned in his arms and embraced him, her face in his neck as tears streamed down her cheeks as her hair fell over his back… and he lowered his face as he kissed her hair, mumbling apologies all the while.
Neither one could say how long they sat on the floor, arms around each other as the tears flowed and the words stopped… all that was left for the moment the comfort of each other and a friendship that started so incongruously years ago when a young girl burst into a compartment on a magical train-and was cemented when the young boy she saw there came bursting into a toilet where she was about to be cornered by a troll.
It was a friendship that had grown over the years-of letters written in concern, of meetings after weeks or months of separation, of sugar-free snacks and cakes sent on birthdays, of secrets and terrors shared as well as the moments of victory… and all through out, something more being built slowly, carefully, one small piece at a time…
"We're so pitiful, aren't we?" she finally mumbled from her place on his shoulder as her arms held him tightly to her. He listened to her quietly, his lips in her hair and a hand rubbing comforting circles on her back as she continued, "Here I am… I never thought of myself as beautiful, as sexy… as someone that people will even look at… I didn't even want to look in a mirror because I could see nothing but my hair…"
She smiled to herself as she felt Harry's lips in her hair, again and again but she couldn't let that distraction stop her. "And there you are, Harry, so afraid that people feel sorry for you… that people only pity you… and not see you for what you are.
"Maybe that's why we're the best of friends, Harry… we're both broken, shattered, smashed in ways that neither of us ever really understood. You with your scar on the outside… me with my scars on the inside… both of us scarred, marked… damaged…"
She felt him moving away from her, and she let her arms drop-felt his hands on her shoulders as he moved back… and felt a hand under her chin, lifting her face to look at him-and she gasped as her eyes roamed his face, noticing a dark bruise on a cheek… a trickle of blood from a corner of his lips… and his eyes, naked without his glasses, staring back at her with an intensity and a depth that she had seen before…
"No… no, Hermione," he whispered as his eyes bored into her from a few inches away. "Not that, Hermione… it's not that we're damaged, or broken. I don't want to think that way…"
She could feel herself flushing… she could feel the warmth spreading within her as he continued talking, the words filling her and healing her scarred soul: "You complete me, Hermione. You fill me… you fulfill me. I can't be Harry Potter without you by my side…"
"I don't want your pity either, Harry." She couldn't stop her words because she realized that there lay the core of their issues with each other: had she become his friend because she pitied him, felt sorry for him and his life-and did he become her friend because he felt badly for her: like him, a seeming outcast in the wizarding world, better known for her intelligence than his scar, better known for her bossy ways and uptight manner than his title…
"I don't pity you, Hermione." The words were said with every iota of sincerity and every grain of truth that he possessed, and the single meaning behind the words he said and was about to say shone through in his eyes, undistorted by the glasses he wore. For long moments, they simply stared at each other as the words floated in the air around them. Neither noticed or even realized that they were slowly moving together… their faces falling towards each other…
"I… I… I love you, Hermione."
As the last, whispered syllable of her name escaped his lips, he dipped his head even as she leaned into him and their lips finally brushed together…
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