This Night Is Mine
Chapter 3- The Dance Before the Dance
Harry and Ron sat at lunch in the Great Hall. Harry rubbed his temples; his scar hadn't bothered him in weeks, but Potions was always good for a headache, and though Madame Pomfrey had finished healing his eye, he still got headaches from the injury. Ginny had grabbed a sandwich and left, and Harry noticed that Malfoy had done the same thing. They obviously were going to eat lunch somewhere together, and probably snog each other senseless. He didn't care, though, he thought bitterly. Well, he cared a little, but he was getting over it. Hermione was probably right, he was just mad that it was Malfoy Ginny was dating. And that she had snogged him while she was dating Harry.
"You were already having problems, remember?" she had pointed out to him the night before. They were walking around the lake to their favorite spot. As he had grown used to doing, he held out his hand to help her over some slippery rocks, then kept it in his as they continued to walk. "You probably would have broken up, anyway, sooner or later."
"I guess so," Harry said, considering that. Hermione was usually insightful about relationships and things like that, and he was obviously an idiot where those things were concerned, so he supposed he should probably just take her word for it. "But why did she--"
"Look," she said, as they ducked under some low-hanging branches. "You would never do something like that to someone, not in a million years, so you might find it hard to understand. I don't think Ginny meant for it to happen like it did, even though she obviously fancied Malfoy, but I'm sure that Malfoy pressed the situation, knowing you'd walk in."
Harry snorted in disgust and led Hermione through the trees to the path that followed the lakeshore. Hermione might be right, and he might not fancy Ginny any more, but that didn't mean he was ready to forgive her.
But now, as he and Ron finished lunch, he kept looking down the long aisle to see if Hermione was coming. He was sure she hadn't eaten yet, and they'd have to leave in a few minutes to get to Charms. It felt stupid to admit it, but he wanted to tell her what he had observed about Ginny and how it had hardly bothered him at all. He felt sure she'd be proud of him, something he found made him feel very satisfied with himself. But she hadn't shown yet, and he found himself tapping his foot in impatience.
"Ginny's been acting weird, hasn't she?" Ron said thoughtfully, his mouth still half full of his fourth sandwich. "I mean, she used to hang out with us but she's hardly ever around any more."
Harry shrugged. He wasn't about to tell Ron anything, even though he was sure he knew where Ginny was spending her time these days. Ron looked at his watch, then glanced up at Harry. "I think I'm going to go see if I can find Ginny. I want to make sure she's all right."
He snorted in disgust. "It's not `cause she's heartbroken about our breakup, Ron," Harry said. "She just has better things to do with her time these days." He was proud that the bitterness in his voice was comparatively light. He wished Hermione were there to notice it.
Ron huffed out an annoyed sigh. "Yeah, you keep saying that, but you won't tell me anything," he said. Harry took a bite of his potatoes and kept silent. Ron waited a moment, then scowled. "Fine. See you in Charms." He stalked off down the aisle.
Harry watched him go, irritated and defensive. He wasn't about to tell Ron that Ginny spent every free minute snogging Malfoy in empty classrooms. It was all going to hit the fan when they showed up at the Ball together, anyway. He scowled; it wasn't his problem any more. Ron and Ginny could deal with each other without him getting involved.
His scowl changed to a smile as Hermione bustled down the aisle toward his end of the Gryffindor table. She stopped to exchange a few words with Ron, then continued on her way toward him. Harry took a moment just to watch her. She had her heavy bag slung over her shoulder, causing her to tilt to one side, and a stack of even more books covered her entire upper body and was held in place by her chin. Her hair swung into her face and she shook her head trying to clear it out of her line of sight. It was such a typical vision of Hermione that Harry found himself soothed by the sheer normalcy of it. His smile widened as he jumped up from the bench and jogged up the aisle toward her.
"Hey," he said, reaching out and stroking her hair back away from her face.
Hermione smiled in relief. "Thanks," she said. "I never remember to put a clip in my hair until it's flying in my face again."
"Let me take these," Harry said, pulling the heavy stack of books out of her arms. She blinked in surprise. He had never done that before. He turned and led her back to where he had been sitting.
"Oh, all right," she said. "I just spoke to Ron. He seemed irritated."
"Yeah," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "He's worried about Ginny, `cause she doesn't hang out with us any more. I'm not about to tell him what she's up to, so he's mad at me."
Hermione sighed. "Well, he'll find out soon enough, won't he? I mean, they'll show up at the Ball together and it won't be a secret any more."
"That's what I thought," said Harry, passing her the serving dishes. "I wanted to tell you…" he paused, and Hermione looked up from spooning food onto her plate. His face was pink, which she privately thought was adorable. She would never tell him that, though. She put a curious look on her face and waited for him to continue.
"I saw her and Malfoy sneak out of the Great Hall at the beginning of lunch," he was turning even redder as he said it and his eyes were fixed on his plate instead of on her. "I knew where they were going, but I-I mean, it didn't really bother me. Not that much." He raised his eyes anxiously to hers. He looked so sweet and vulnerable, she felt herself melting inside.
She smiled at him. "I'm glad, Harry." The she added fiercely. "After what she did, she doesn't deserve for you to care."
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "What?" he asked incredulously. "I thought you were the one who said I should be understanding!"
This time Hermione blushed. "I know I did," she mumbled. "But she still shouldn't have done what she did."
Harry laughed. Hermione's indignation on his behalf made him feel warm inside, and he thought that this might turn out to be a good day after all. "Thanks, `Mione," he grinned.
Hermione's head shot up. `Mione? He had never called her that before. Nobody had ever called her that before. It was so sweet that tears came to her eyes and she had to look away. She grabbed blindly for her goblet of pumpkin juice so he wouldn't see.
Harry apparently didn't think anything of it, because he took another bite of his sausages and continued, "Where've you been, anyway? Library?"
"Oh, erm, no," Hermione answered. She glanced over at him, wondering if she should tell him. But he was her best friend, after all. "I was…well, you won't believe this, and you have to promise not to tell anyone, all right?"
Harry gave her a puzzled look. "All right, then."
Hermione beckoned him in close. He leaned in until their foreheads were touching. Hermione leaned in even closer and pressed her cheek against his. His skin was smooth today, unlike the other day when he hadn't shaved. She rested a hand against his other cheek to steady herself, but for a moment, that close to him, she couldn't remember what she was going to say. She pressed her cheek against his and closed her eyes.
"Hermione?" he said softly. He laid a hand on her shoulder.
She drew in her breath, flustered. "Oh, sorry. Erm, I was going to tell you, that Seamus asked me to the Fall Ball. I was really surprised."
Harry drew back, his green eyes hard. He wasn't surprised, he had known, of course, that Seamus had planned to ask Hermione to the Ball. What surprised him was the violence of his reaction to hearing Hermione say it. He turned back to his plate. "What did you tell him?"
Hermione didn't miss Harry's sudden mood change. "I-well, I told him I was already going with you," she said, confused. Harry clenched his jaw and turned away. "Harry, what's wrong? Should I-did you want me to tell him yes?"
Harry's head whipped back in her direction. "No! You're mine!"
There was a long silence while Hermione stared at him and Harry stared at her. He couldn't believe he had said that. That wasn't what he had meant at all. "I mean," he stammered, "I mean you're my date. I don't… I thought we were going together. You're my date."
"All right," Hermione said carefully. She looked at him speculatively, her head cocked like she could figure out what was really going on inside him. He frowned and looked away. "All right, Harry," she said gently. "I'm yours."
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Hermione," he said slowly, still not looking at her, "would you rather go with Seamus? I mean, you and I are just going as friends…"
"No, Harry," Hermione said carefully. She had a sense that something had changed in the past few minutes, but she didn't quite understand it yet. "No, I want to go with you." Then a thought struck her and she looked up at him anxiously. Crossing her arms over her chest, she slid a glance over at him. "Do…do you want to go with someone else?"
Harry looked back over at her with a fierce expression on his face. She didn't understand it, and it confused her, but deep down she felt something else, too. A thrill. The same thrill she had felt when she had found out that he had fought Ron because Ron had insulted her. It was a dark and hot feeling, and it left her a bit breathless. She bit her lip against the combined intensity of the two emotions.
Harry shook his head and gave her a small crooked smile. "No, I want to go with you. I think it'll be fun."
Hermione smiled with relief. "That's good, then." Harry smiled back and for a moment she felt that dark thrill again. She shook her head, wondering what was the matter with her. Harry was attractive, there was no doubt about that, but she wasn't attracted to him. They were best friends. Everyone knew that. Even so, sitting this close to him made her feel a bit edgy, and it was all she could do not to squirm.
She returned her attention to her lunch, though she could feel Harry's eyes on her. "You have Quidditch today?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "After dinner. Why?"
Hermione shrugged. "I have some stuff to do, so I thought that'd be a good time. I have to run into Hogsmeade."
Harry was startled. "You do? Do you have permission to leave? If you wait until after Quidditch, I'll go with you."
"No!" Hermione said, laughing. "I have to pick up my costume for the Fall Ball. You can't see it, it has to be a surprise!"
"It does?" Harry asked. "Oh, I didn't know that."
Hermione laughed. "That's because you're a guy, Harry!"
"Er, right," Harry said, giving her that crooked grin. He grabbed Hermione's arm and looked at her watch. "Hey, we'd better go, Charms in two minutes!" He grabbed up his own bag, then scooped up Hermione's books with one arm and absently held out a hand to help her climb off the bench. She took it and stood, but when she went to pull it away he was still hanging onto it, so she hitched up her bag on her other arm and let him lead her down the Great Hall.
Why had he said that? Harry made his way down to the Quidditch pitch for practice, his long stride covering the ground quickly. He was early, but he wanted a few minutes to fly before the rest of the team arrived. His thoughts and feeling had been churning all day, leaving him feeling irritable and restless. Why had he said that thing to Hermione, when she told him that Seamus had asked her to the Ball? His own words echoed in his head…you're mine…
He shook his head and climbed onto his broom, kicking off hard. The autumn breeze on his face and the sheer joy of moving at high speed helped to clear some of the confusion in his brain, put there by the spinning of the same thoughts over and over. He remembered the feeling of Hermione's breath on his cheek, on his ear as she whispered. He remembered the tingling that had spread down his body when she spoke in that breathy voice. He shifted uncomfortably on his broom as he looped the goalposts and sped in the other direction. He remembered the anger that was like a punch in the stomach when she told him about Seamus. He didn't know what that was about. He knew it was coming, why did it bother him so much?
He bent low over his broom and kicked up the speed to dangerous levels. Levels at which he would have to concentrate, to put everything else out of his head. He needed a break from his own confused emotions. The thrill of speed raced through him, giving him a feeling of euphoria and release. By the time he landed back on the pitch and the rest of the team was gathering in the locker room, he felt much clearer. He had made a mistake, that's all. He hadn't meant it like it sounded. You're mine… he ignored the mockery of the words as he gathered the rest of the team and ran through their plays, then got them back out on the field as soon as he could. He wanted to fly again, to work out the tension in competitive play, to find an outlet for the restless energy that was always bubbling under the surface these days.
Hermione hurried back up the walk to the castle, her packages tucked into her school bag. She had had her costume made by the seamstress down there, but she hadn't been able to resist stopping at the bookstore and picking up a new arithmancy book, too, then she had an inexplicable urge to buy a present for Harry. She had just picked out a bag of Chocolate Frogs, which she thought was a very appropriate gift that any friend might pick up for any other friend, when she remembered Ron. Cursing, she picked up another bag of Chocolate Frogs. After all, recent events notwithstanding, Ron was still supposed to be her other best friend. Last year she would have thought of them as a set, Harry and Ron, Ron and Harry, her two best friends. Until she started liking Ron, and Harry started liking Ginny…with a sigh she adjusted her bags and carefully made her way up the steep path.
A bit out of breath, she huffed up to Gryffindor Tower to put her packages away. She had missed dinner in her haste to get to the village before the shops closed, and now students were wandering into the common room with their books and parchments, reluctantly intending to settle down to homework. Hermione ran through her list of things to do in her head, then nodded to herself, satisfied that she had enough time to try on her costume before she began her Transfiguration essay.
Ginny was coming down the steps from her room just as Hermione reached her own landing. Hermione's first instinct was to ignore her; she still hadn't really forgiven Ginny for hurting Harry. Ginny paused awkwardly on the steps and the two girls stood there looking at each other for a moment. Hermione bit her lip. But then she remembered sitting in the common room with Harry and Ron; things weren't perfect, but she had them back. Maybe she could get Ginny back, too. She thought wryly to herself that she didn't have very many female friends. She shouldn't let go the one she could claim.
"Hi, Ginny," she said.
"Hi," Ginny answered cautiously.
"I just got back from Hogsmeade. I picked up my costume for the Ball. Would you like to help me try it on?" She knew she sounded too formal, but she couldn't help it. It was the best she could do.
A look passed across Ginny's face. Sadness, maybe? Hermione wasn't sure about her expression, but she could tell that Ginny was gathering her courage.
"Sure," Ginny said, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear. Hermione led her inside her dorm room. Ginny leaned against the poster of Hermione's bed as Hermione pulled out the pieces of her costume and laid them out. Ginny helped her fit everything properly, and Hermione was relieved that they could still talk and laugh together.
"Okay, where does this strappy thing go?" Ginny asked, holding up a leather scabbard and sword. "There doesn't seem to be any place to fasten it."
Hermione considered the strap and buckle. "That's the baldric. I guess it just goes right across the middle," she said, shrugging. She strapped it on, frowning at the feel of the leather against her bare skin.
"Do you have boots?" Ginny asked.
"Er…yes," Hermione said, and she could feel her face glowing. "But I'm not sure… I don't know…" The boots had been an impulse purchase, and now she was anxious about them. They weren't exactly her style, but she had been thinking of Harry, of the way his eyes had flashed when he had said you're mine, and for some reason she found herself feeling uncharacteristically reckless.
Ginny had already reached for the last parcel on the bed. "Are these them?" she asked. "Let's see…oh, Merlin!" She began to laugh.
Hermione scowled and looked at the boots and then at Ginny. "What?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Ginny with false casualness. "You and Harry are just going as friends, right?"
"Right," Hermione said defensively. "Why?"
"Oh, Hermione," said Ginny with a pitying look. "Let's just say that these boots make some promises the rest of you had better be prepared to keep."
Hermione smiled with relief and shook her head. "Maybe with some guys, Ginny, but not with Harry. We don't think of each other like that."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hermione, maybe you don't now, but when he sees you in this outfit, wearing these boots-he's only human, you know."
Hermione bit her lip. "Is it too much?" she asked anxiously. "Am I being…I don't know… slutty? I just wanted something a bit different…"
Ginny sat on the bed and gave Hermione a long look. "You're not being slutty, Hermione. It's a sexy outfit, and blokes are going to notice, but you're basically covered." She paused for a moment. "But, what would you do if Harry noticed, too? I mean, what if he made a move?"
Hermione sat down, the skirts of her costume flowing around her legs. She bit her lip. If she was honest, she had to admit that she had been very tempted to kiss Harry today at lunch. She had dismissed it as just a normal female reaction to a good-looking man, but what if Harry felt it, too? What if she made Harry feel it by wearing this suggestive costume? She looked up anxiously at Ginny.
"I don't know!" she said helplessly.
Ginny smiled kindly. "He's a great kisser, Hermione. You should see if it goes anywhere."
"Would it bother you if he liked me?" Hermione asked, more out of curiosity than anything. She ignored the flutter in her stomach at the thought of Harry liking her, and she ignored the burn of jealousy at the thought of Harry still wanting Ginny.
Ginny shrugged and looked away, her ears turning pink. "I've got no right to be bothered, have I?"
Hermione cocked her head and studied Ginny. "No, but that doesn't mean you wouldn't be."
Ginny sighed. "I'm sorry I hurt him, Hermione. I know you're mad at me. I didn't mean for it to happen that way. I'm glad he's got you now, though. I think you're better for him than I ever was."
Hermione frowned. "He doesn't have me, Ginny," she snapped. "But he is my best friend, and I'll do whatever it takes to help him feel better."
Ginny wiggled her eyebrows. "Whatever it takes?" she asked suggestively.
"Oh, stop it!" Hermione said throwing pillow at Ginny.
Ginny laughed. "Sorry, I forgot, you're just friends. But, if he can't keep his hands off you Saturday, you should know that the decorations committee is going to be creating several little nooks and crannies around the Great Hall for people to sneak off to for some alone time."
"Whatever," Hermione mumbled. "Help me get out of this thing, will you?"
Harry had positioned himself at a table where he had a view of the girls' staircase. That way he could watch for Hermione while pretending not to watch for her. He hadn't seen her since Quidditch, but he knew she had to be back from Hogsmeade by now. They had to be very careful these days, and she wouldn't be out after dark by herself. But he knew he wouldn't relax until he saw for himself that she was back.
Movement on the steps caught his eye, and he glanced up from his Transfiguration book. But it wasn't Hermione, it was only Ginny. He frowned, and started to turn his eyes back to his book when he noticed she was heading over to his table. They hadn't spoken since the day he had caught her with Malfoy. He was getting over that, but that didn't mean he wanted to talk to her.
"Hi," she said, sitting in the chair between Harry and Ron.
"Hi," he said cautiously.
"Hi," Ron said, giving her a severe look. "Where are you off to?"
"None of your business," she said, sharing a glance with Harry and rolling her eyes. Harry didn't join her in the teasing look as he might have done before. Instead he just waited to see what she wanted.
"Harry," she said, turning her back on Ron, "I was wondering, what are you dressing up as for the Ball?"
Harry raised his eyebrows. "I dunno," he said. "Merlin or Gandalf or something, I guess."
Ginny rolled her eyes again, and muttered, "Men." Then she met his gaze and said, "Look, Hermione's put a lot of thought into her costume. Do you know who Grace O'Malley is?"
"What?" Harry asked, confused. "Did Grace O'Malley make Hermione's costume?"
"No, no, no," Ginny sighed, shaking her head. "I don't want to spoil it, but Hermione's going as Grace O'Malley. She was a pirate queen, all right? So dress yourself accordingly."
"Hermione's going as a pirate?" Harry asked, enjoying the image. "That should be cute."
Ginny gawped at him. "Cute? Oh, you poor boy." She shook her head. "Fine, she'll be cute. You'll be dead on the floor, and Hermione will be cute." She gave him another pitying look, then got up to leave. "Don't tell her I told you, okay?"
Harry glanced up at her. "Why did you tell me?"
Ginny shrugged. "I owed you. Don't screw it up."
Harry nodded, and Ginny got up and left through the portrait hole. Harry watched her go, feeling some of his bitterness drain out as she left. Maybe they could all get back to normal after all. Then all thoughts of Ginny left his head as Hermione came down the stairs, her arms full of books, as usual.
She smiled at him as she approached their table, and Harry felt his stomach flutter. She really was pretty, he thought. He wasn't interested in her that way, of course, which did not explain why he had freaked out when she told him Seamus had asked her to the Ball, but even as a friend he could admit she was very attractive. He shifted in his chair a bit.
"I got you something," she said, setting her books down on the table.
"Did you?" Harry said, pleased and surprised. Ron looked up curiously.
"Yes," she said, and drew the bags of Chocolate Frogs out of her robe pockets. She handed one to Harry. Harry's pleasure in the gift dimmed a bit as she gave one to Ron, too. Ron smiled at her as she sat between them.
"Hey, thanks, Hermione," he said, tearing one open and catching it on the first jump.
"You're welcome," she said brightly. "I just thought I'd get something for my two best friends while I was down at Hogsmeade."
Ron grinned, but Harry clenched his jaw. Ron said, "I'm glad we're still friends, Hermione."
"Of course we are, Ron," Hermione said, smiling at him. Harry ripped one of his own frogs open and considered smashing it, but knew that Hermione would probably be offended by that. Instead he pinched it between his fingers and took a careful bite out of it. Of course they were friends. He didn't want that to change. Nothing was changed. They were all friends. They were the Trio, the Dream Team, everyone knew that. It was stupid to be bothered when she smiled at Ron like that. Hermione and Ron were friends, Hermione and he were friends, he and Ron were friends. They were one big friendly-whatever.
Harry swallowed his frog and shoved his chair back from the table. He wasn't going to be able to concentrate on Transfiguration in this stupid, friendly atmosphere. He was such an idiot, it was probably better to get out of here before he and Ron got into another fight.
"I'm-" he broke off, having no idea what he was going to do. Hermione turned toward him, the smile she had been giving Ron still beaming on her face. "I'm going to get something from the kitchens," he said, desperate to think of an excuse to leave.
Without waiting for an answer he stalked off to the portrait hole. He heard Ron call after him, "Hey, mate, bring me back some of those éclairs, will you?" but he ignored him.
He ended up on the grounds, walking over them with all the energy given to him by his confusion and anger. He shoved a hand through his hair. Why the hell was he angry? He headed down the slope toward the lake, noticing absently that Hagrid's lights were on again. He briefly considered visiting Hagrid, he hadn't really talked with him in a couple of weeks, but decided against it. He knew he wasn't very good company tonight; he had been edgy and disgruntled all day, and now he was flipping out because Hermione had bought him and Ron the same present. Because he and Ron were her friends.
He dragged his hand through his hair and slowed his pace as he approached the lakeshore. He walked around it, out of the castle's line of vision. His headache was coming back, a remnant of stress, his eye injury, and the low-grade throbbing of his scar. He looked out over the water and took a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders. He knew what his problem was. He was acting like a jealous idiot, when there was no reason to be jealous. For one thing, Hermione wasn't interested in Seamus or Ron or anyone else. For another, he was not in love with Hermione, so he should be happy for her if she was interested in someone. He rubbed his neck absently with one hand and gave a soft, mocking smile. Suddenly tired, he walked even farther away from the castle, rather than toward it. He was too tired to explain to Hermione and Ron where he had been or what he was doing.
Eventually he dropped down on the rock he and Hermione liked to sit on, brushing away a new covering of dry brown leaves that had fallen since yesterday. It was cold; the October night was getting brisk, and he wrapped his robe closer around himself. Drawing his knees up, he rested his elbows on them and began to rub his temples.
"Let me do that," said a soft exasperated voice behind him. His head whipped up and he spun around.
Hermione stood under a tree at the edge of the forest, the golden leaves and the moonlight above her making shadows play across her face and hair. She watched him silently for a minute, until he shrugged and turned his gaze back to the lake. Then she sloshed through the golden leaves lying on the ground beneath the tree and came and sat directly behind him on the rock. Harry frowned. Why was she sitting there?
"Here," she said, shoving a sweatshirt around him and onto his lap.
"Thanks," he said, touched but not surprised that Hermione would think about the night temperature. He certainly hadn't thought of it, until he found himself sitting chilled on a rock beside the lake. But Hermione thought of everything. Quickly he stripped off his robe and pulled the sweatshirt on, and threw the robe to the side.
"Get up," Hermione said shortly.
He could tell she was in a strange mood herself, so he did what she said, and stood up next to the boulder. Without moving from where she sat cross-legged, she grabbed up his robe and spread it out in front of her.
"Lie down," she commanded him, gesturing to the robe.
"Er…what?" Harry asked, with a strange leap of his stomach.
"Lie down and put your head in my lap."
"I…why?"
"You have a headache, right?" she snapped. He nodded. "Just do it, all right?"
Puzzled, and a bit wary of her in this mood, he did as he was told. He laid his head in the cradle of her crossed legs and looked up through the autumn trees into the night sky. Then she gently removed his glasses and the tree branches and clouds became pleasantly blurry. Her fingers came to rest on his temples and she took a deep breath. Putting away, for the moment, her own conflicted feelings, she began to rub in slow, firm circles. A soft "Mmmm…" escaped from Harry's throat and she closed her eyes for a moment.
As Hermione continued to rub Harry's temples, his breathing evened out. She wondered if he was falling asleep, and decided that it would be all right with her if he were. His eyes were closed and it gave her a chance to study his face. His thick black hair was sticking up, away from his face, so she knew he had run his hand through it as he often did when he was thinking or when he was frustrated. Her fingers continued to move in circles away from his temples to his forehead, where she tried to smooth out the lines made by pain and thought. She rubbed near his hairline, then down to the bridge of his nose, then, after a moment's hesitation, she rubbed his scar. It was the first time she had actually touched his scar, she thought in amazement.
"Does that hurt?" she whispered.
"No," he answered in a sleepy voice. "Feels better."
She rubbed his forehead a bit longer, then returned to his temples. The moon continued to rise, and the breeze blew from the forest behind them out onto the lake, blowing golden leaves over them and into the water. In what she hoped was a subtle movement, she skimmed her knuckles over the skin of his jaw, which was faintly scratchy again. Sighing, she removed her hands from his face and leaned back on them, his head still resting in her lap. A wave of fierce protectiveness washed over her; he had been through so much. Her hands clenched into fists against the rock. She would do anything to keep him from more suffering. Even as she thought it a sad voice inside told her that she wouldn't be able to do that. Suffering was going to come to all of them, but especially Harry.
"Then I'll do what I can," she vowed silently, looking down on his face again. "I'll make everything as good for him as it can be until then." A tear escaped the corner of her eye and ran down the side of her nose; she wiped it away before it could fall onto Harry's face and disturb him. As she glanced down at him, she was startled to see that his eyes were open and he was looking up at her. The moonlight made his eyes glow a deep dark green.
"All right, then, `Mione?" he asked softly.
She nodded. "Never better," she answered in the same voice, barely above a whisper.
"My head feels better," he said, with a bit of surprise in his voice. "How'd you do that?"
She shrugged. How did she explain to him that where he was concerned, she often knew instinctively what to do?
Harry sat up and scooted back so that he was sitting next to her, and they both faced out over the lake together. "Why were you crying, `Mione?"
"Oh, I wasn't, really," she said. "Just thinking."
Harry looked over at her skeptically. He couldn't read her expression; her face was faintly blurry in the dim light. He waited until she looked up at him. Then he held out his arms. She leaned into them, content to sit beside him and rest her head on his shoulder. But that wasn't what Harry had in mind. As she leaned he thrust one arm beneath her legs and scooped her onto his lap.
"Harry, please!" she objected, pushing against his muscular chest, trying not to be thrilled at how easily he had simply grabbed her up. "I'm too heavy!"
Harry gave her an incredulous look. "Are you kidding?"
"No! I-" But her face was inches from his and she was on his lap! For the second time that day, his nearness made her forget what she was going to say. "All right, then," she said, giving up her argument. She looped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.
He held her to him. Hermione always made him feel better. He didn't know what she had been thinking that made her cry, but he wanted to fix it for her. He wanted to make her feel like everything was going to be okay, the way she was always able to do for him. They sat like that until the moon was fully risen and they knew it must be going on midnight. With a sigh, he stood up with Hermione in his arms, ignoring how pleased he was at her impressed look, and set her gently on her feet beside him. On an impulse he didn't question, he lifted her chin and bent his head and kissed her softly on the mouth. His heart was beating so fast he was sure she could hear it. As he pressed his lips to hers, Harry heard Hermione draw in a breath and he froze. What was he doing? He was going to ruin everything. He started to pull back, wondering wildly what he would say to her.
But at that moment, Hermione's body leaned into his. It was just the slightest motion, but it served to press her lips to his again. He closed his eyes, he could feel himself trembling, he could feel her trembling, then she hesitantly parted her lips. Harry pulled her closer, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her again. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that there was no way he was going to be able to explain this away as a friendly show of affection. Their mouths were open, sliding over each other, his tongue was tasting her wet lips. Her arms were around his neck and her hand thrust up into his hair, her tongue met his. He raised his hands to her face and put them on her cheeks, pulling her closer, he had to get closer, he had to take this kiss as deep as it would go. The breeze was cool on his hot skin. Hermione gasped softly for breath.
The sound of that small gasp shocked Harry to his senses. Abruptly he released her, and she stumbled slightly as he moved away. For a moment her eyes remained closed, then when they opened they were wide and dark. She lifted her fingers to her lips, looking bemused.
"I-I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--- please don't be mad at me!"
Hermione gave a shaky laugh. "No, I'm not mad, Harry. I just---" she took a deep breath and shook her head. "I think we should go back."
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, mostly because he didn't trust them right now. "All right, then. Let's go back."
As he started to walk away from the boulder on which they stood, the breeze kicked up again and a shower of golden leaves fell from the tree above them, swirling around their bodies. Hermione let her head fall back as the crisp air caressed her skin, and for a moment Harry just watched her. After a few beats, she shook her head and gave him a distracted smile, then turned and walked back down the path, leaving Harry to follow after her.
-->