An Assault on the Senses

Summary: Ron was sick and tired of them dancing around. He was going to end it by any means necessary. Poor Harry and Hermione.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. That is a good thing. I would do very bad things to them indeed if I owned them. Heh. J.K.Rowling owns them and she’s the one making money off them.

Author’s Note: This is a fluff piece. It’s fluff, fluff, fluff! If that’s not your thing, please move on. Nacey, thanks for looking this thing over and beta-ing it. You’re completely awesome in so many different ways. I’m anxiously awaiting updates on your fics. Thanks to everyone else who saw this on my journal and made lovely supporting comments. More chapters should be coming, uh, sometime.

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Ron was irritated.

No, scratch that. Ron was supremely irritated. They were doing it again. The coy glances. The sighing. It was enough to drive a man to drink. Or at least plunge a fork into his eyes and ears.

Oh, to be sure, Harry and Hermione were completely unconscious of their behavior. Their respective levels of denial were so high as to boggle the mind. No, of course I don’t like Hermione like that. She’s one of my best friends. She’s like a sister. No, I’m not in love with Harry. Honestly, why would you think that? It’s never even come up in my mind.

Liable to drive a man to drink, it was.

And so it would continue. Harry would have little “talks” with every guy who showed the slightest amount of interest in Hermione. He would twirl his wand and talk about his battles with Voldemort’s minions and oh yes, you remember how I defeated Voldemort when I was two? Oh, you’ve become very busy, of course. I’ll tell Hermione you can’t make it.

She was like a sister after all.

Hermione was no better. Harry had no shortage of admirers, but the most persistent would get a personal meeting with Hermione. A very calm, very rational meeting wherein Hermione would very calmly and very rationally lay out every threat that Harry had faced (only those that they were allowed to talk about, of course), and could you please explain, logically, point by point, how you would have dealt with said situation? What’s that? Oh, you’re not feeling well. Perhaps you should see Madame Pomfrey then. Yes, of course I’ll tell Harry you’re not available.

He was her best friend after all.

But Ron was having none of it. There comes a time in every man’s life where he must stand up for himself, for his principles, for his sanity. This was that moment.

It would take time. It would take finesse. It would take teamwork. It would take an insane amount of luck. But it would be done. Ron would make sure of that.

A sigh.

A glance.

A considering look at a fork.

Where could a man get a drink around here?

Harry and Hermione were in love. Everyone knew this.

But Harry and Hermione didn’t know, and by Merlin, Ron was going to make them know. And he had the perfect plan to do it.

Love affected the senses. Made a person all wonky. Everyone knew this. Nothing looked as beautiful as the object of affection, no one sounded as sweet or smelled as good, etcetera, etcetera. But Harry and Hermione were somehow immune to all that. So Ron was going to help them out before he was forced to inflict bodily harm on himself.

Well, Ron, Ginny, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati…pretty much all of Gryffindor was in on this. Self-inflicted harm seemed to be the order of the day.

Who knew true love could be so bloody tiring?

So Harry couldn’t be bothered with admitting the truth to himself because of the whole Voldemort thing and Hermione was far too logical to fall in love with one of her best friends.

Right.

Ron decided that a little subtlety was in order. No need to frighten the poor lambs. Through a little research (how proud Hermione would have been!), Ron and his cohorts had found a spell that heightened a person’s hearing and could even be keyed to a certain voice. The spell was useful in the days of chaotic battlefields where a commander needed to make himself heard over the din of warfare and the soldiers needed to be able to hear orders. Ron wondered what the creators of the spell would say if they could see how he was planning to use the spell now. He paused for moment, thinking of the ghosts floating about Hogwarts. Who’s to say they couldn’t see?

Ron shrugged, unconcerned with possible retributions from beyond the grave, waved his wand and muttered the incantation over Harry’s sleeping body. Lavender and Parvati were doing the same thing in Hermione’s room right now. Tomorrow the unknowing lovebirds would wake up and hear the sweet, sweet sounds of each other’s voices. They would be surprised, they would wonder, they would speculate. But they would figure out that they were meant for each other. After all, if you could hear one voice above the rest, no matter where you were, all the time, wouldn’t you think you had a connection with that person? And wouldn’t you ruminate on said connection? And perhaps come to the conclusion that the connection was there the entire time and you would see how much you needed the other person in your life?

Of course you would. Harry and Hermione would be together by the end of the day, and Lavender and Parvati would be planning the wedding.

Ron decided he was a genius.

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Harry was going to go mad. Hermione was already there. All day, they could hear nothing but each other’s voices. No, they could hear other people talk, but their voices were somewhat muted. If one of them spoke, however, it blasted through their eardrums like a rocket.

No matter where they were, no matter how softly they spoke, they could hear the other as if they were standing right next to each other, speaking directly into their ears. It started in the morning when Harry had heard Hermione cooing to Crookshanks about what a very good cat he was and Hermione had heard Harry having a rather curious one way conversation about Quidditch. From there, it had only gotten worse.

Harry heard Hermione yell at Lavender and Parvati to hurry up in the bathroom. Hermione heard Harry talk about Quidditch. He heard her mutter to herself about various homework assignments and possible questions on the upcoming Herbology exam. She heard him talk about Quidditch (this really wasn’t so odd as there was a Quidditch match coming up on the weekend).

Now, one may ask themselves at this point, why didn’t either party realize something was wrong? After all, as Ron so wisely once said, hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the wizarding world. Well, for one, both parties could recognize the voices. Surely that had to count for something. Secondly, well, the author could go into a long explanation involving buried feelings, denial and the subconscious throwing out every signal it could to clue the rest of the brain in, but she trusts that the reader can discern such things for themselves. Suffice it to say, the silly gits didn’t want to figure it out.

Oddly enough, it was Harry who finally accepted that something was up. Of course, he was the one with experience hearing voices, so it was to be expected in a way. Ginny and Hermione had attempted to have a good old fashioned girl talk conversation during breakfast, but Harry had turned so red at Hermione’s whispered comments that she thought it best to stop the conversation and see what was wrong with him. He refused to look her in the eye and beat a path to the door so quickly Hermione suspected Voldemort had made an appearance outside the Great Hall.

She finally cornered him in the hall, but he refused to speak to her. Not just refused to tell her what was wrong, but actually refused to speak. He just shook his head, held up a hand, ran to the end of the hall and whispered “Hello.”

Hermione gasped when she heard Harry’s voice as if he was standing right next to her and then heard him again as the sound waves actually reached her ears. It was as if there was some sort of bizarre echo going on in her ears. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh no,” she moaned.

“Oh yes,” Harry replied grimly.

They had tried to remain silent after that, but as anyone who has had to deny themselves something knows, forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest. As soon as they decided that they shouldn’t talk, they both found oh so many opportunities to talk. Professors called on them in class, friends called them over for private discussions, Harry had a team meeting with the Quidditch team, Hermione need to consult with Madame Pince.

It was madness.

By the end of the day, Harry and Hermione were thoroughly sick of one another’s voices. They weren’t talking to anyone else and certainly not to each other. They made it quite clear, through signs and written notes, that if they found out that this was some sort of prank, whoever planned it would have a very painful time of it indeed. Then they both tromped up the stairs (in tandem, Lavender and Parvati noted with dreamy sighs) and stormed into their rooms, neither noticing one thing.

Sitting there in the common room, Ron looked inexplicably put out and depressed.

Ron sat in the common room and considered his options. Apparently Harry and Hermione hadn’t appreciated being able to hear each other all day. Ungrateful bastards. How was he supposed to know the spell would make the keyed voice sound as if it was screaming in your ear? Admittedly, screaming was not the best way to hear your beloved’s voice, but the fact that they heard each other constantly should have told them something, right?

Crookshanks looked at Ron with a familiar expression of distaste. “Oh, shut up,” Ron grumbled. “I’m trying to make your mistress happy. That should make you happy. Besides, Merlin knows you’ve always liked Harry more than me.”

Crookshanks, of course, agreed with this statement, but far be it from him to actually show it to the likes of Ron. He merely blinked his eyes in that lazy, insolent way that only cats (or is it Kneazles?) possess and turned around to look for a comfortable place to nap.

Ron sighed. Well, time for a second spell, he supposed. Fortunately, the group was ready for this possibility. If the dulcet tones of each other’s voices didn’t convince them, perhaps seeing each other a little differently would.

Because they were in love, dammit. And Ron was going to make sure they knew it.

Yes, a spell to affect the sight (also, incidentally, borrowed from a wartime spell and adjusted for their purposes) was exactly what was in order. The more a person cared about someone, the more they trusted them and were trusted in return, the stronger the positive effect to their eyesight. Those that could be considered enemies, such as, oh, that slimy weasel Malfoy, would produce a strong negative effect.

Harry and Hermione would see the other with stars in their eyes. Literally.

Ron decided he was pretty damn near genius.

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Harry was going blind. Hermione was sure she had some sort of affliction of the eye. Why else would sparkles appear around certain people while others glowed an infernal red?

It had started in the morning, just as the problem with their ears had. Harry had blearily looked at Ron, who seemed to glow in the soft morning light. He had shrugged, thinking it was a result of a combination of not having his glasses on and the Quidditch victory party last night. However, when he put on his glasses, Harry saw that Ron was not encased in a warm glow, but that sparks seemed to be flying off him. Naturally, Harry was concerned over this turn of events. First, he attempted to smother Ron in a blanket, thinking him on fire. At Ron’s rather violent reaction to this, Harry tried a few Finite Incantatum spells to end whatever magic Ron was undergoing. Strangely enough, Ron just rolled his eyes, muttered something that didn’t sound at all complimentary, and pushed Harry toward the showers.

Hermione hardly had a better time of it, first thinking that dear old Crookshanks was on fire, and after having received a few scratches for her trouble, tried the same tack as Harry and uttered Finite Incantatum a few times. For the first time in his life, Crookshanks looked at Hermione with something like disdain and scorn in his yellow eyes. I can’t believe you can’t figure this out, he seemed to say to her. “Well, I’m sorry,” she snapped, “I don’t often see you with sparks coming from you. And I can’t believe I’m holding a conversation with a bloody cat!” Crookshanks, of course, couldn’t bear this insult and walked out of the room in snit, leaving Hermione alone and miserable, seeing tiny flashes emanate from Lavender and Parvati.

The real problem began when Harry and Hermione came downstairs in the Great Hall for breakfast. Hermione was already there, eating a light breakfast when Harry walked in with Ron. When they caught sight of one another, they both shrieked in pain (Harry’s was a very manly shriek, of course) and jerked their eyes from each other. Dean and Seamus looked over with no small amount of concern on their face. Ron was surprised. Draco merely smirked and made a comment so inane, this author does not see fit to record it.

“What? What’s wrong?” Dean asked, scooting over to Hermione, who was bent over in pain. He glanced over at Harry who was in the same position.

Harry looked up at him, blinking rapidly, with tears streaming down his face. “I just looked at Hermione,” he began in a faint voice, “and there was this light all around her. It was so--”

“Bright,” Hermione finished, standing up and looking anywhere but at Harry. “I couldn’t look at him. He was just encased in light.” A worried frown appeared on her face. “Harry, could someone be trying to curse you? Do you think Volde—er, You-Know-Who--?”

“By making me see sparks around certain people? And making you so bright that I can’t look at you? What kind of curse is that, Hermione?”

Hermione frowned again and noticed that Ron was starting to look distinctly nervous. She needed more information. “Describe what you see, Harry.”

“What? Oh, alright. Well, I can’t look at you because it’s too bright. Ron has a ton of sparks coming from him, Dean and Seamus have a few, uh, Ginny’s got some sparks, Crabbe and Goyle are, well, this is odd, red and Draco’s glowing red with a few sparks.”

At this last pronouncement, Ron had choked and started to cough violently. The problem of Harry and Hermione’s sight was put on hold as each friend, still careful not to look at each other, tried to make sure Ron didn’t die of asphyxiation. Both missed the looks of concern shared by everyone else at the Gryffindor table.

Ron managed to recover, but was so winded, Hermione suggested he go see Madame Pomfrey to see if she had anything to help revive him. Harry quickly volunteered to go with him, as he wasn’t completely blinded whenever he looked at Ron. Hermione, looking to Lavender and Parvati at least, unhappy to see Harry go, agreed, but not before getting a promise from Harry to talk to her later about their mutual affliction. The boys went off to the hospital wing, leaving Hermione with a frown on her face and a mystery running about in her head.

Madame Pomfrey gave Ron a Pepper-Up Potion, which, given that he wasn’t really ill, meant that he was manic for the rest of the day. Needless to say, manic plus Weasley does not a good combination make. Ron had to be restrained from knocking Draco’s head off no less than six times that day; a record, even for him. The less said about his behavior in Transfiguration, the better. On the plus side, Ron actually managed to make his potion correctly that day in class, surprising Professor Snape so much that he gave Ron a detention as he was sure the boy had cheated. Ron didn’t care and was currently looking in to laying in a supply of Pepper-Up Potion.

Madame Pomfrey had no suggestions for Harry, and indeed, seemed quite puzzled over his symptoms. The sparks and red glow seemed so familiar; she knew she had heard of the spell before. But the connection never came, and her attempts at Finite Incantatum met with no more success than the previous ones. There was nothing to be done, she said. If the condition continued, Harry was to see her tomorrow.

This, however, did nothing for Harry or Hermione now. They went to classes and tried to concentrate as best they could, but could hardly focus at all. Seeing flashes of light or a red glow (most of the Slytherians, oddly enough) emanating from people was not a recipe for a happy day. Harry couldn’t find the Snitch among all the flashes coming from his teammates. Hermione, who couldn’t do her reading without being distracted, was practically near tears. Strangely enough, to Harry and Hermione at least, so was Ron. Not being able to see one of your best friends was bad enough, the constant eye strain was merely the icing on the cake. Naturally, Harry lost it.

“THAT’S IT!” he shouted suddenly when he happened to glance at Hermione in the common room and was blinded for his trouble. “Whoever did this is a dead man. Or woman. Or living creature! Whatever, whomever did this better run when I find out who they are,” he threatened.

Ron began to look nervous again. Lavender and Parvati were trying to make themselves as small as possible. A raging Harry was never a good thing. Dark Lords tended to die when that happened. That was good, of course, but as they lacked a Dark Lord at this moment, Harry might just try to take down the whole common room. Or the school.

Hermione tried to soothe Harry. “Harry, don’t worry. I’m doing some research, and I think I’m on to something. We should be able to try a counterspell tomorrow.”

“But I want to look at you today!”

Lavender and Parvati let out a small twitter of delight. Ron looked crossly at them before a small smile quirked on his face.

“Harry, we’ll be okay. Let’s just go to bed--” and here Dean and Seamus could hardly control their snickers. They were, of course, boys. As it was, it looked as if their eyes were going to pop out of their heads, “and go to sleep. We’ll figure it out, I promise,” Hermione said.

Harry looked quite cross, and truth be told, quite amusing as he was having this entire conversation with his eyes closed, but eventually relented and nodded. “Fine. Ron, I’m going to bed,” he said, wincing slightly as he opened his eyes and looked at Ron.

Ron smiled encouragingly at him. “Right, mate. I’ll be up in just a few minutes.” He waved Harry on. “I just need to ask Lav something.”

Harry nodded and turned toward the dorms. He and Hermione trudged up the stairs, Hermione’s head on Harry’s shoulder. She was still murmuring soft, comforting words to him.

Lavender and Parvati could hardly contain their squeals of delight.

Ron sighed in frustration. His plan was not working out as well as he had hoped. Harry and Hermione were supposed to be frolicking through the meadow by now. Instead, they were no closer to each other than before, they were starting to look at each other a little strangely and Ron was pretty sure the school didn’t even have a meadow.

Sure, they had a Forbidden Forest with centaurs and vampires roaming about, but a bloody meadow was apparently too much to ask for.

Ron sighed. Pessimism would get him nowhere. He needed to think. He needed a strategy. He needed another way of approaching the problem. He needed to call in some backup. Time to engage “the team”, as he liked to call them. Ron looked around the common room.

Lavender and Parvati. Useful for getting to Hermione and planning weddings, but Ron wasn’t too sure about their strategic abilities. Dean and Seamus. Ron snorted. He supposed they had a certain bit of strategic ability, but asking them for help would be like asking Forge and Gred. You most likely wouldn’t get the help you need, and you would end up with pink hair for your trouble. Good for moral support and getting one out of tricky situations, though. Ginny. Too young, and of course, his sister, so it was out of the question, really. Neville…ah, Neville. Perfect. Ron got up and closed in on his prey.

“Neville! I need you’re help, mate!”

Neville looked up, a faint trace of concern crossing his face. “With what?” he asked warily. He was well aware of Ron’s plan, and was entirely sympathetic to the cause, but he wondered what Ron could possibly want from him.

“Neville, you herbology expert you. Are there any plants that affect a human’s sense of smell or affect the old libido that could be made into a potion that isn’t poisonous? And that could be made quickly and quietly, without Harry or Hermione knowing about it?”

Neville looked slightly nervous. “Well, uh, yes, there are certain plants that affect smell. Make it sharper and so one. Professor Sprout is growing another plant that, prepared correctly, has certain aphrodisiac qualities. I suppose they could be put into a potion that wouldn’t kill a person.”

Ron chuckled just a bit evilly. Just a bit. “Perfect. You can make the potion and I’ll slip it into their food or drinks or something.”

Neville now looked extremely nervous and not at all convinced about the chances of this plan. “But…er, Hermione always helps me with potions. How am I supposed to make the potion without her help? You can’t just mix the plants together and hope for the best. Something will go wrong.”

Ron clapped Neville on the back. “Neville, have I ever let you down? I’ll help you.” Ron gave him a big grin.

Neville looked faintly ill, gulped and gave a weak smile.

Ron decided that he was pretty damn smart.

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Harry was distracted. Hermione was distracted. So was everyone else for that matter. The potion, surprisingly enough, had worked. Both Harry and Hermione now had a sense of smell sharp enough to sniff truffles. The real problem was with the aphrodisiac portion of the potion. As Neville had predicted, something had gone wrong. They had put in far too much of the aphrodisiac and as a result, both Harry and Hermione were pumping out enough pheromones to attract an Erumpent. Which meant one really didn’t need a heightened sense of smell to find oneself suddenly attracted to Harry or Hermione. Which meant that hordes of people were following both of them, suddenly desperate to take them to dinner, go to Hogsmeade or just find a cozy broom closet. Which meant that both were more than a bit homicidal.

But not exactly in the way one might think.

You see, Harry and Hermione did have heightened senses of smell, so each was completely aware of the other. Harry could smell the shampoo Hermione used; Hermione could smell the soap on Harry’s skin.

And that was distracting.

In the arena of odors, Harry had gotten a raw deal. Human males, as everyone knows, can produce stenches not found anywhere else in nature, produce them in huge amounts and still think they’re the bee’s knees. In fact, in certain circles, the greater the stench produced, the greater the popularity of the boy. So poor Harry suddenly became aware of this cesspool of stink when Ron, oddly enough, offered Harry a morning glass of pumpkin juice after his shower. Nearly overwhelmed by the smell, Harry escaped into the common room, where it was slightly better. He sat down, gasping, wondering what the hell was going on. As he sat there, trying not to breath through his nose and failing, he became aware of a delicate scent drifting through the air. It was an odd mix of…citrus… ink…and parchment, he finally decided. It didn’t sound like an appetizing combination, but Harry was entranced. It was a wonderful smell, comforting, fresh, warm and enticing. It cut through the other odors like a knife through warm butter. It wrapped around him like a warm blanket. He glanced around, wondering where it came from when his gaze fell on Hermione, sitting in a chair, frowning.

You see, Hermione was having a similar problem. Although she didn’t have to deal with an onslaught of natural odors, as girls did not usually subscribe to the “stink is neat!” philosophy, Hermione did have to deal with all the artificial smells girls used to cover up and attract. Sharing a room with Lavender and Parvati practically knocked her out, so she too had escaped to the common room. She had noticed Harry practically running down the stairs, but was too wrapped up in her suffering to pay much attention. Besides, when Harry came down, a lovely smell had come into the room. It was grass and fresh air, warm, clean skin and soft clothes. It came through the swirling miasma of scents and enveloped Hermione. Her eyes drifted close as she inhaled and she felt them flutter open as her gaze fixed on Harry, who was looking at her with the oddest expression on his face. He almost looked…hungry, but then she blinked and the expression was gone.

They both realized separately who the good smell was coming from, both blushed profusely and then both wondered why the other was blushing. Oh, yes, Ron and Neville’s little potion had worked but uncharacteristically, Ron had failed to look past the opening and into the middlegame. He just assumed that Harry and Hermione would fall into each others arms. This was not the case. Both Harry and Hermione had powerful resolves and if they didn’t want to acknowledge something because they thought it might harm the other, then by Merlin, it would stay unacknowledged. This, however, made them very cranky.

Their heightened sense of smell, coupled with their hypersensitivity to one another’s pheromones and their completely subliminated desire for each other, meant both were ready to kill any other person who came sniffing (so to speak) around their dear, dear friend. And given that Hermione was the smartest witch around and Harry was one of the most powerful wizards to come through the school in some time, the homicides promised to be inventive and bloody to the extreme.

Hermione and Harry were currently in broom closet, sitting side by side, waiting for the trailing mob to withdraw. Thanks to a clever use of a Vanishing Spell, both Harry and Hermione were able to disappear long enough to duck into one of those oh so handy rooms. Hermione suspected that Hogwarts had a knack for making certain rooms appear when you really needed it.

Harry grit his teeth. “Hermione, if one more guy comes up to you, I’m going to hex him till he doesn’t know which way is up!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, and I suppose your adoring fan girls are any better? You very well know that I have no idea why I’ve suddenly become attractive to most of the student population here. Obviously it’s some sort of spell or potion, but I can’t believe that someone could use a Love Potion on both of us that affected the entire school! I mean, it’s illegal and completely dangerous!”

Harry huffed a breath, annoyed. “Hermione, you haven’t suddenly become attractive to the school. You already were, they’re just acting on it now. I can’t believe Justin actually asked you to go to Hogsmeade, especially when I already talked to--” he mumbled.

“You did what?” Hermione interrupted, eyes flashing dangerously, conveniently forgetting her own similar behavior.

Harry began to look nervous. “Er, I just asked him what he was planning on doing for your date.” He grinned at her. “Just looking out for you, Hermione.”

“I can look out for myself, Potter,” she grumbled, forgiving him in a suspiciously short amount of time. “Please stop acting like my older brother. I already have Ron to do that. As if I can’t take care of myself! Honestly!”

Harry flashed a crooked smile at her. “I know you can. I just want to be sure that you’re happy. Everyone needs a little help once in a while.”

Hermione shook her head. “What I need is to figure out why we’re attracting the entire population of Hogwarts! And why can I smell everything so well today? I could smell breakfast from my room today. I don’t know how, but they must be connected. And why can I smell you so we--” she stopped suddenly, blushing.

Harry looked at her curiously, wondering what had made her blush. “I told you already, Hermione. You’re attractive already. Everyone’s just acting on it. I think that’s what we should be focusing on. Besides, I’m pretty sure I know what’s wrong with me. I think I’m a werewolf, Hermione,” he said solemnly.

Hermione looked at him sharply. “What? Of course you’re not a werewolf. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Harry looked at her earnestly. “What about my sense of smell? I can smell your hair, I can smell your skin.” He left out the part about her scent being the only thing keeping him sane in this new world of smell. His subconscious aimed a kick at the shins of his resolve. His resolve snickered and stuck out its tongue. “That’s not normal. Remus said he can smell things others can’t.” He paused for a moment and sniffed the air. “You smell nice. What kind of perfume do you use anyway?”

Hermione sighed. “I don’t use any. Harry, I promise you’re not turning into a werewolf. I know all about the symptoms, remember? I learned them third year. I have the same heightened sense too and I’m sure I’m not a werewolf. Besides, even if you were, I would tell you what was happening immediately and I would fix it.”

Harry smiled. “There isn’t a cure for lycanthropy, Hermione.”

Hermione glared at him. “I would find one. I told you that I would fix it.”

Harry chuckled this time. “You fix everything, Hermione. What would I do without you?”

Hermione laughed softly as she laid her head on his shoulder. “You probably would turn into a werewolf. I’d have to keep you in my room every full moon. Crookshanks would just love that.”

Harry looked down at her fondly and kissed the top of her head gently. “Somehow, I think my life would be much worse than that. You make everything better, Hermione. You make me happy. Even when you’re knee deep in books and parchment.” He shifted toward her and put an arm around her. This was better, he decided. His other arm draped itself around her midsection. Much better.

Hermione looked up at him with suspiciously shining eyes and smiled. “You make me happy too, Harry. Except when you’re playing Quidditch. Then you make me terrified. Now go to sleep, Harry. We’ll deal with the mob tomorrow.” Her arm, seemingly of its own accord, snaked around his waist and settled there. She reached back and tangled the fingers of her other arm in his.

And so they fell asleep, wrapped up in each other arms.

When they told Ron the next day what had happened, neither understood his howl of frustration.

Author’s Note: Must give mad props to Nacey for looking this over and helping me out. I was mired down in this chapter and she gave me a boost. She’s awesome, yo. And thanks to everyone who’s reviewed this and said how much they’ve enjoyed it. It warms the cockles of my heart.

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Ron was ready to weep. Nothing was working. They had been stuck in a bloody broom closet and nothing had happened! They fell asleep in each others arms and, as Harry told him, “it really strengthened their friendship.” Strengthened their friendship.

Holy hell.

Maybe Malfoy was right about Harry. He really was a blithering idiot.

No, no, he had to remain positive. He couldn’t give up now. His attempts at romance had brought the two closer together, if such a thing was possible. That had to mean something, right?

What it meant was that all of Gryffindor was that much closer to throwing themselves off the Tower, going to Snape to ask for extra work in the Potions dungeon or, even worse, putting up a sign at the next Quidditch game that said “Just kiss already, you dopes!” While the last option was amusing to ponder, it would undoubtedly set The Cause back (Ron had taken to thinking about his Mission in capital letters).

Lavender whumped down on the couch next to him and took in his darkened face. “The non-lovebirds got you down?”

Ron groaned and slumped down. “I don’t what to do. I’ve tried subtle; they brushed it off as weird coincidences. Sparkles, voices, smells! Coincidences, all of them! Their denial is a wonder to behold.”

Lavender patted his knee and smiled encouragingly. “We need to make it a bit more obvious, I think. Padma and I were doing some research—stop looking at me like that—and we found a spell that can make a person sensitive to the touch of someone else. Good for espionage and finding your contact and the like. If we set them both up with the spell, they’ll get a shock whenever they come in contact with each other. Just think about it,” Lavender said earnestly, “we do a little twist on it and every time that they touch each other, it’ll be like lightning!”

“Literally? I can’t see that being a good idea,” Ron said gloomily.

Lavender rolled her eyes. “Of course not. It would be just a little whzzzt!” She made a little shaking motion with her whole body to demonstrate that had Ron looking at her with a very naughty gleam in his eye. “Nothing dangerous, nothing annoying. Just a little pleasurable jolt that’ll get them wondering and touching each other.”

Ron tore himself away from thoughts of Lavender shaking and pondered over this new plan. It did present certain advantages. Harry and Hermione would be touching. If it was just a little zap, they wouldn’t get annoyed or be snappish at the end of the day. Even better, if it was a pleasurable jolt, they would be touching a lot and trying to not make it obvious.

It had comedy potential, at the very least.

“Sure,” Ron agreed. “Doesn’t sound like too much could go wrong. At least by our standards.” He relaxed and congratulated himself. His plan was working. The team was pulling together and working towards a solution. Harry and Hermione would be together by nightfall.

Ron decided that for an average bloke, he certainly had his moments.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Astonishingly, the spell had worked. No complications, no unforeseen consequences, no unanticipated interactions with other spells, potions or magical beasts. Harry and Hermione received a pleasurable jolt whenever they touched. And Ron had been right.

It was as funny as hell.

Watching them first try not to touch each other, then finally give in and either try to hide their touches or make them look accidental was quite possibly the funniest thing Ron had ever seen. It was far more amusing than anything Fred and George had ever come up with.

It had started with an accidental bump in the common room. The three teenagers were lazing about on the couch, taking their time going to breakfast. There was a rather mysterious thump on the floor. Ron was looking the other direction with a shifty look on his face. Harry and Hermione both looked and reached down for the object.

A sudden touch.

A startling whzzzt.

A surprised look.

A rapid retreat.

A shameless snicker.

The trio decided to go down to breakfast. Ron trailed behind the dynamic duo a bit; needed to talk to Lavender, he said. He watched in amusement as Hermione’s hands, waving about in explanation of some theory she was expounding, came closer and closer to grabbing Harry’s wrist. Wave, wave, wave, aaaaaaaand grab! There it was! And there was the jolt. Both blushed immediately and Ron clapped a hand over Lavender’s mouth to stop the giggles. A moment later than was strictly necessary, Hermione dropped Harry’s wrist, and both looked disappointed for the loss. Parvati’s sudden cough had a distinct ring of laughter in it.

Breakfast was an amusing affair as well, with suspiciously synchronized movements toward the platters of food that resulted several coincidental touches. On the way back, Harry and Hermione “accidentally” brushed hands no less than seven times. Ron was sure of this, as he was counting.

And so it continued through out the day. Hermione found numerous opportunities to grab Harry’s arm. Such as when Dean and Seamus decided to release Chocolate Frogs in Potions. Normally, Hermione wouldn’t be bothered at all by such a juvenile prank (unworthy of seventh years, really. Chocolate Frogs? Strictly first year stuff.), but if today she felt rather twitchy and was grabbing Harry’s arm and just happening to touch his wrist, who was Gryffindor to argue?

Harry, never the most tactile person in the world, suddenly needed to consult with Hermione on everything in very close quarters. Ron was unceremoniously dumped as a Potions partner and poor Neville struggled through the class as Harry unapologetically stole Hermione to become his new partner and discovered innumerable ways to drop his hand next to hers on the table. Every class that they shared was simply far too loud for proper conversation and he needed sidle up to her and whisper, lips just happening to brush her ear. That little trick nearly caused Parvati to faint at the unresolved sexual tension of it all. Hermione was none too steady for it either.

The greatest triumph of the day, however, came when, upon returning to the Tower after dinner, Hermione gave the password, the painting swung towards them and Harry put his hand on the small of her back to usher her forward. The Team watched in amazement as Harry’s fingers gripped the bottom of Hermione’s jumper, pulled it up a bit and then trailed quickly across her exposed skin. Hermione stiffened a bit, but neither made any comment and both went into the common room.

There was a sort of collective strangled gasp that came from the Team, who stopped dead at the entrance. They stared at the spot Hermione and Harry had just occupied. No one said a word for a few moments. Lavender made an incoherent noise. Parvati whimpered softly. “Did…did he just…Harry pulled…he touched…what…what just happened?” Seamus finally managed.

“Harry just felt her up,” Dean whispered, awed by what he had just witnessed.

“It’s like my world just turned upside down,” Ginny muttered. “Right and wrong have no meaning. Black is white and white is black. Harry just groped Hermione!”

“Well, honestly, he hardly groped her,” Lavender pointed out. “He just--”

“Hiked up her sweater and deliberately touched her skin,” Parvati interrupted. “He didn’t grope, but he definitely felt her up. Stop trying to ruin the moment.”

“I’m just saying we shouldn’t get too ahead of ourselves!” Lavender retorted hotly. “He touched her back; he didn’t grab her and shag in the middle of the Great Hall!”

Seamus shook his head. “If I tried that with Hermione, she would have hexed me into next year, if she could get her wand out before Harry. That’s of course assuming he had decided to not bypass the magical option completely and just beat me with his bare hands. No, that was a clear-cut move that Harry made and Hermione didn’t mind it at all,” he said definitively.

Dean sniffed and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “Our Harry’s growing up and becoming a man!”

Parvati looked crossly at him. “And what would you know about becoming a man?”

After standing stock still for the entire duration of the conversation, Ron’s eye twitched. Then he began to cackle. And cackle. And cackle. The rest of the Team looked on in concern and a bit of terror as Ron laughed and rubbed his hands together, but he paid them no mind. Everything was falling into place. They were finally giving into their hormones. Declarations of true love were not far behind, he was sure of it.

He was going to be free. Gloriously free!

Author’s Note: Many thanks go out to Nacey and nightfall, who also helped me out on the last chapter. Also, because I’m an ungrateful bastard apparently, I forgot to thank seldon and blazefury for their help on chapter four. So, thanks guys!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ron was resolute. He had come too far to give up now. He was close, very close. He would not be beaten back at this late hour. He looked around him at the group assembled in Ginny’s dorm room (picked for security reasons. Less likely that Harry or Hermione would come bursting in here. At least, it better not be likely that Harry would burst in here, Ron thought darkly). The Team shared similar determined looks. This was their moment of triumph and they would not have it snatched away so easily.

“Alright, we know that the Mission faces a serious problem,” Ron began, pacing back and forth across the room. “The spell that was so effective,” and here he nodded to Parvati and Lavender, who smiled and gave a little wave to Ron, “has now ended. However, our Subjects seem to be mired in embarrassment now. They will not talk to each other, nor will they even look at each other. Does anyone have any suggestions as to how to proceed?”

Seamus raised a hand. “Yes, do you think you could stop with the wonky general leading the troops bit? It’s a tad frightening.”

Ron glared at him. “No. Any helpful suggestions?” he asked, looking back at the group.

“Er, yes,” Ginny said, getting to her feet. If Ron wanted to run the meeting like an army briefing, who was she to argue? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen stranger things. “It’s a new spell. Affects a person’s sense of taste.”

“You’re going to get them to lick each other?” Dean asked, a little more interested in that prospect than Ron was entirely comfortable with.

Ginny shared his concern. “Uh, no,” she said, looking at him strangely. “We’ve gone through all the other senses and it seems to me that touch had the most success because the two Subjects were in physical contact. While I judge that it would be difficult to get the two Subjects to touch, er, orally, I believe that we can get them to think and focus on that possibility.”

Parvati looked fascinated. “How can you do that? You said they won’t kiss, and we know that they aren’t even looking at each other. How are they going to consider kissing each other?”

Ginny waved a piece of paper. “Witches and wizards, I have in my hand a spell that affects the sense of taste. It magnifies and enhances this sense to the point where eating becomes an erotic experience. I believe that if both Subjects are, uh, subjected to this spell, they will, due to both their subliminated desires and shared recognition of similar reactions to food, focus on each other and, in particular, their mouths, which, as we all know, are a necessary component to kissing. These thoughts will consume them until they finally give into their desires.”

Lavender looked a little doubtful. “You’re assuming an awful lot. They managed to brush off the other three spells before we hit on touch. What makes you think that they won’t do that now?”

“Ah, but they weren’t trying to grope (“I’ve already told you, they weren’t groping!” Lavender said. “Shhhhh!” quieted Parvati.) each other before those three spells, were they?” Ginny asked. “Now that they have, and they are undoubtedly thinking about each other in a slightly more ‘love of my life’ sort of way, when they see each other, kissing will pop into their minds much more readily.”

Lavender sighed. “I don’t know. It seems a bit complicated to me. What do you think, Ron?” she asked, turning to him.

Ron was frowning at his sister. “Wait, did you say ‘erotic experience’? And kissing? What do you know about erotic experiences and kissing? Has someone been trying something with you? I bet someone said something. Who was it? I kill him!”

Ginny sighed. Ron was such an idiot.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Once again, the spell worked. Whether it was because a female researched and implemented the spell or because Ron was not involved in that portion of the plan, this author cannot say. Whatever the specific reason, Harry and Hermione were consuming enough calories to power a dragon.

“If Hermione keeps this up, she’s going to lose her girlish figure,” Ginny whispered to Lavender during lunch. Both were staring at the duo, dumbfounded at the amount of food each one was tucking away. Hell, the entire school was staring at them. Even Dumbledore couldn’t hide his astonishment. Crumpets, bangers and mash, kippers—all gone.

“If Harry keeps this up, there won’t be a broomstick in the world that will be able to hold him,” Lavender muttered. “Some Seeker he’ll be then. He won’t even be able to jump for the Snitch. How long is this spell supposed to last?”

“Just a day, thank Merlin,” Ginny replied. “How long can it take to eat steak and kidney pie?”

This was an excellent question, for Harry and Hermione were not just eating mass quantities of food. They were…enjoying it, exactly as the spell intended. Every bite of pastry made Harry’s eyes droop to half mast in barely contained pleasure; every piece of steak brought a moan from Hermione. It was damn funny, but also incredibly uncomfortable. Everyone had a right to their sexual predilections, of course, but who wanted to see them (even if they were artificially induced) on display in the Great Hall?

Even worse (or better, depending on how one looked at it) was the attention the two paid to each other. As Ginny predicted, despite their horror and embarrassment over the results of the previous spell, each was eagerly watching the other enjoy eating, the obvious pleasure of one enhancing the delight of the other. They stared at each other’s mouths, taking pleasure in that simple act.

It was, quite frankly, a little creepy.

“Quite frankly, this is a little creepy,” Ron whispered to Ginny. “This is more of a food obsession than ‘let’s go snog each other senseless.’ When are they going to get beyond the wonders of an elf-cooked meal and get to the kissing?”

“I don’t know!” Ginny murmured. “They can’t eat all the time, and they are staring at each other’s mouths. It’s got to hit them sometime, right?”

Ginny’s words proved to be prophetic as both of the newly minted gluttons abruptly stopped eating and shared a heated gaze. Their breathing was quick and shallow and Harry gulped loudly as he took in Hermione’s flushed face.

Hermione quickly stood up, looking anywhere but Harry. “I’m sorry, I’ve…I’ve got to go. Need to be at the library. I’ll see you in class.” She all but ran out the door as Harry’s eyes tracked her and then glumly went back to his food. He pushed the plate away from him and made a disgusted sound.

The rest of the day was somewhat depressing for the Team as the Couple-That-Would-Not-Admit-They-Were-In-Love regressed to their previous behavior and refused to talk or even look at each other. Ron was despairing of ever completing the Mission when his two Subjects were being such plonkers.

Fortunately, Fate decided to smile on him.

Harry, in full view of everyone in the common room, asked Hermione if she might join him on a walk outside. It was a beautiful night, with a full moon and warm breeze. Hermione hesitated only a moment before agreeing. The two went out the portrait hole, keeping a careful distance between them, but obviously only focusing on each other.

If they had bothered to pay attention to their surroundings, they would have heard a tremendous cheer swell up when the portrait swung back. Ron immediately stood up and quieted everyone.

“Wizards and witches, this is our moment of triumph. There can be only one reason for a young couple so desperately in love to take a private moonlit walk outside. Our Plan is nearing it’s end. And by Merlin, we are going to witness it! Ginny, Seamus, Dean, Parvati and Lavender, you’re with me. Let’s go!”

Another cheer went up as Our Heroes trooped through the door.

“Oh, good luck!” the Fat Lady called after them, fluttering a handkerchief. “The young ones grow up so quickly,” she sniffed, dabbing at her eyes.

The Hogwarts Regiment, 1st Gryffindor Battalion stealthily made its way outside. They paused for a moment, discussing where their quarry might have headed. The Quidditch pitch was chosen as the most likely place, and they quickly moved off in that direction. Luck was with them again, as they spied Hermione and Harry walking through the gates and climbing over the fence, onto the pitch itself. The stadium provided numerous hiding spots, so the unit swiftly chose one with good sight lines and entrenched themselves.

And then, like any good army unit, they waited for something to happen. And waited. And waited.

“Why aren’t they doing anything?” Lavender asked. “They’re just staring at each other!”

“I wish they had licked each other in the Great Hall,” Dean said wistfully.

Parvati looked at him distastefully. “There are no words for just how much you frighten me right now.”

“What? I’m just saying that licking would have added some excitement to it all.”

“Keep your perversions to yourself.”

“There is nothing wrong with--”

“Licking in public is not part of the social contract!” Parvati yelled.

“Quiet!” Ginny shushed. “Are you trying to get them to hear us?”

“Social contract? That’s Muggle philosophy! What do you know about Muggle philosophy or the social contract?” Dean asked in astonishment.

“I know plenty of things, and licking isn’t part of it!”

“You’re only limiting yourself, prude,” Dean said nastily.

“Licking pervert!” Parvati hissed.

“Be quiet!” Ron threatened. “I’m not going to have this moment ruined by two gits who don’t know how to keep their mouths shut! If you two had bothered to pay attention, you would see that the Plan is coming to fruition!”

“Fruition? When did you start using words like that?” Seamus asked, immensely amused. “You have been hanging out with Hermione too long.”

“If you don’t think I won’t kill you right now, you’re very mistaken,” Ron said calmly. “Pay attention and shut it!”

Harry and Hermione had abandoned their staring strategy at some point and had moved closer together. Hermione was saying something to Harry, and seemed to be very emphatic about it, but she was still so quiet, no one could hear what she was saying. Out of the blue, Harry raised a finger and put it over her lips. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. Hermione reached up, grabbed his hand and gently pressed her lips against his fingers before letting it drop.

They stared at one another then, and even from this distance, Ron could see the emotion shining in their eyes. Their eyes slowly closed and they drifted closer together. Closer and closer…they tilted their heads slightly…closer…a sliver of moonlight was all that separated them…closer…just a hairsbreadth away now…

The battalion leaned forward as one and held their breath.

Harry and Hermione sprung backwards and sucked in a great lungful of air. They shook their heads, as if to rid themselves of some trouble, and looked at each other once again, the confusion and pain clearly etched on their features. Hermione gave a final, violent shake, turned and walked quickly out of the stadium. Harry looked after her a moment, his face now a mask, before turning the opposite direction and leaving as well.

There was a stunned silence from the group before they all raised their voices in a cacophony of disbelief and confusion.

“No, no, no!” Seamus said. “What happened? Why didn’t they kiss?”

“I can’t believe it,” Parvati whimpered. “They were so close!”

Ginny was flabbergasted. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to kiss!”

Dean looked about ready to hit something. “I’m going to kill them. They’re practically the bloody couple of the millennium and they can’t be bothered to admit their feelings and kiss!”

Lavender looked over to Ron, who was being strangely quiet. She laid a hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”

Ron stared forlornly at the spot Harry and Hermione had just occupied and heaved a deep sigh.

“I need a drink.”

Added Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me. It belongs to other people. Probably Paramount and the Roddenberry estate. That’s not me.

Author’s Note: I have so many people to thank for helping me with this story I don’t know where to start. Okay, let’s see—Nacey, my beta, you are awesome beyond words. You helped me, encouraged me and humored me in my attempts at writing. Thanks for being a friend. Babygrrl, msscribe, your help and encouragement were invaluable. Thank you for the writing guidance. Everyone who posted on my LJ about this story—thank you. Every little comment about how much you were enjoying the story or how you couldn’t wait for the next one cheered me up so much. To those who were kind enough to review this story—no matter what you said, thank you. Reviews are fun to get and they can help an author grow when they include constructive criticism, so I appreciate everyone who took time out to drop a line or two.

On to the story! Hope everyone enjoys it. It’s been a blast to write.

~*~*~*

Harry was tired. The past few weeks…well, there weren’t any words to describe the past few weeks. He whumped down on the couch in the common room and sighed heavily. He needed a vacation. Another body whumped down next to him, careful to keep a certain distance.

“Tired?” Hermione asked him.

Harry rubbed his eyes. “Like you wouldn’t believe. Actually, no, you probably could.”

“I have some information that might perk you up,” Hermione offered.

“Really? What’s that? Voldemort’s location? Death Eater headquarters? Fashion trends for the summer?”

“I had no idea you were interested in fashion, Harry. No, I found out why all these strange things have been happening to us.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “Ron. He cast the spells. Apparently he had some grand plan to affect our senses and found a spell for each one. When one didn’t work, he’d move on to the next one.”

Harry had no words. His mouth moved for several moments before the words finally came. “Why, in the name of all that is good and right, would he want to put us under those sorts of spells?”

Hermione looked slightly embarrassed. “Well, I think that Ron was trying to get us together.”

Harry looked up, startled. “Get us together?”

Hermione definitely looked embarrassed now. “Yes, you know, as a couple.”

Harry blinked, trying to process this new information. “I should kill him,” he said, thinking of all the trouble those cursed spells caused. He tried not to notice that he was blushing slightly at the idea of dating Hermione. He shook his head clear of such wild thoughts and contemplated what Hermione had told him. “Wait, you’re saying Ron was a matchmaker?” He pondered on this a moment and then slowly began to chuckle. “Can you imagine Ron skulking behind corners, following us, trying to set up odd situations so that we would fall madly in love?”

Hermione still looked embarrassed, but Harry’s laughter was infectious and she began to laugh as well. “Mistletoe over the doorways.”

“Singing leprechauns roaming the halls again,” Harry offered, snickering.

“Locking us in broom closets,” Hermione managed in between spurts of laughter.

They continued in this way for some time, each coming up with wilder and more outrageous plans that Ron could have implemented (unbeknownst to them, several of these plans had actually been considered but then rejected due to a lack of “style.” A matchmaker must have a certain panache and flair above all other things).

Eventually they settled down and they spoke of Quidditch and arithmancy, Divination (although Hermione ranted more than anything), and Ron’s curious attention to Lavender. They decided that his interest spoke well of him as Lavender was hardly the flighty girl she had been six years ago and, more importantly, could deal, and argue effectively, with Ron, without being reduced to an apoplectic rage, unlike certain other girls they both knew. And as they talked, a strange thing happened. Harry’s pleasant baritone wrapped around Hermione as he spoke and laughed. It warmed her to hear him so happy and carefree. It had been so long since he had been this pleased. Hermione’s clear, careful voice shot through Harry. He had heard her laughter far too little and hearing the joyous tone in her voice cheered him like nothing else.

They managed to control themselves eventually and fell into soft tones, speaking to each other about their day. The crackling fire gave the room a warm luster. The light bounced off the heavy red curtains and fabric in the room, darkened by age and use. The burnished gold in the room gave off a luminous glow. The shining yellow light washed over the occupants of the room, playing over their faces and clothing. The overall effect was one of flickering shadows and candlelight, softening lines and luminous skin.

Harry’s messy hair had a dark sheen to it and Hermione was sure it had never looked so soft. She looked mostly at his profile as they spoke, the light playing off his familiar yet alien appearance. The basic features were of the boy she met seven years ago. The glasses had finally been replaced (and subjected to numerous charms by Hermione to prevent breakage) and the eyes held a little more sadness and pain, but they were still the same brilliant green they had always been and Hermione wondered how they could be so bright in such a dark room. The nose was the same, a ‘fine, aristocratic nose,’ as Austen might put it, Hermione thought, but the jaw had squared and sharpened. When he would turn to her, a smile would appear, lighting up his whole face. Hermione realized with a start that Harry the boy had been replaced by Harry the man. How could she have missed it? She hadn’t missed these changes in Ron, but this new Harry was a complete surprise to her. She looked on in wonder as he continued to speak of Quidditch practice and Ron’s antics.

Harry was sneaking glances at Hermione, curious about the same thing. Her hair, still a bushy mass, nonetheless shone in the firelight and Harry had to restrain himself form snaking a hand out and capturing a lone curl. Her eyes had a radiant deep brown glow. Age had changed her face; it was no longer the sweet face of a child, but that of a woman with a fierce intelligence, deep compassion and surprising sense of humor. Her skin was translucent and shimmering in the low light. His eyes appreciated her slender form that held the soft curves of hips and breasts. She gestured and he was drawn to her hands, long and slender, lightly calloused from gripping quills too tight and writing for too long. Hermione was lovely, he realized with a sudden clarity. He had always thought she was attractive, but this…this was beauty in a way he had never experienced before.

As the night wore on and they grew more sleepy, more relaxed, they began to slump towards each other. Eventually, they found themselves with Hermione’s head on Harry’s shoulder and his head resting atop hers. They had been in this position countless times before when Harry needed to talk to Hermione and Ron about his troubles or simply needed to reassure himself that they were there and safe. Harry would share the couch with Hermione and Ron would lie on the floor or sit a chair. They took on their familiar roles then, with Ron cheering him up immensely and offering the odd strategic insight and Hermione alternately comforting him and either solving or offering to research every problem he threw out there. This was a comfortable position, a familiar position, but now it was edged with an unfamiliar tension.

Hermione could sense the fresh scent of Harry’s jumper and if she moved her head just a bit, her face would be buried in the rather delicious crook between Harry’s neck and shoulder. Which she wouldn’t do, of course, because that was just silly. But maybe if she just stretched out a bit…a light, spicy odor hit her and she flushed when she realized it was Harry’s skin. She had been in this position so many times before, but it had never been like this. Even on that odd day that had ended in the broom closet (a problem which she still hadn’t been able to figure out exactly, much to her annoyance), she hadn’t been as intensely aware of Harry.

Harry, as one might guess, was in much the same predicament. For an arrangement of bodies and limbs that he had experienced before, he was having an inordinately difficult time concentrating on any thing other than the smell of Hermione’s hair. It was an extremely pleasant fragrance, a mixture of floral shampoo, fresh air and books. An odd combination, to be sure, but an enjoyable one. It was just…why was he focusing on it now? What was different tonight? .

“You need a haircut,” Hermione mumbled sleepily.

Harry leaned back and looked at her in amusement. “Perhaps we haven’t met. I’m Harry Potter. My hair grows back magically.”

She huffed a small breath of annoyance. “It grows back if it’s shaved off by your aunt. I’m hardly suggesting anything so drastic. A trim is all I ask. Unless you want hair like Lucius Malfoy. He does have beautiful hair.”

Harry’s face was a curious mixture of distaste, annoyance, surprise and a hint of jealousy. “Lucius Malfoy is one of the most vile, evil men to walk this earth. He’s the most sadistic of the Death Eaters, no easy feat, I assure you. He is second only to Voldemort for the title of the biggest bastard on the planet.”

“And he has lovely hair,” Hermione said placidly.

Harry shook his head. “It’s like I don’t even know you.”

Hermione craned her head around. “I do have the occasional girl thought, you know. And appreciating the aesthetics of long, shiny blonde hair is quite different from appreciating the man it’s attached to.”

Harry looked at her surprise, a possibility suddenly occurring to him. “You don’t want blonde hair, do you? To change your look all around?”

Hermione shook her head vehemently. “My goodness, no.”

Harry sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. I can’t imagine you as some blonde.”

Hermione furrowed her brow. “You can’t? Why not?”

He shrugged. “It’s just not you. It’s too common. Besides, your hair is perfect the way it is.” At this, Hermione gave him a warm smile that trembled just a bit. Harry gave into the desire that had been plaguing him for most of the night and reached out, wrapped a curl around his finger and tugged lightly. “I think it suits you.”

She smiled at him again then turned back and shifted against him slightly so that she was leaning back on him. This proved to be uncomfortable for Harry, so he shifted so that he was leaning up alongside the arm of the couch, Hermione’s back pressing against his chest. He fumbled for where to put his arms and hands for a bit, but eventually settled them around Hermione, his fingertips lightly touching her hands.

They continued to converse into the night, talking about schoolmates, holiday plans and deep meta-philosophic concepts that only make sense very early in the morning. The warmth of the fire seeped into their bodies. The air grew heavy and their movements and speech became slow, languorous. Harry’s hand started to run up and down Hermione’s bared arm in a long, lazy pattern. To an outside observer, it appeared to be the old, comfortable touch of a familiar lover, but to Hermione it was anything but. Harry’s fingers seemed to trail fire behind them, and goose bumps came up every time he made another pass. The truly maddening thing from Hermione’s perspective was that Harry appeared completely unaware of what he was doing and the effect he was having on her--the shaggy haired, soft, delicious hands having, unbearably sweet and wonderful bastard. She grumpily grabbed his other hand and started to trace over his long, elegant fingers, distracted by dark thoughts about how bloody unfair this all was and why was she all of the sudden so in tune with Harry’s light arm stroking? She sighed. What beautiful hands he had.

Harry was startled when Hermione grabbed his hand and started rubbing his fingers, but it was such a lovely feeling that he thought it best to stay quiet. Her fingers grazed over his as they spoke, running up and down the length of each one before engaging in a random pattern across the back of his hand that would spill over into his palm. Her touch was feather light and barely there in some places, but would increase in pressure around his knuckles, circling them, slowly massaging the tension out. It was a delicious sensation, relaxing and stimulating at the same time, and Harry tilted his head back onto the arm of the couch, almost purring in pleasure. His mind drifted back to earlier in the night, he and Hermione sitting and laughing…laughing over the thought of Ron playing matchmaker to the both of them. No, he thought, correcting himself, laughing over the thought of he and Hermione being together.

“Why is it a bad idea?” Harry asked abruptly. “We laughed about it. Why is it such a bad idea?”

Hermione paused in her massage, wondering how to answer. She knew what he was asking about and had thought about it herself, but all her reasons didn’t seem to be so reasonable now. She resumed her stroking, trying to put her thoughts in some sort of order.

“And you can’t say that it’s because we’re best friends,” Harry warned. “We both know that isn’t a proper reason.”

“I think it’s a very good reason,” Hermione retorted. “We know where we stand and this relationship works. Why would we ruin that?”

“Who says it would be ruined? Why do we assume that? That’s why we laughed—‘oh, us as a couple? Of course not, we’re best friends. We’d burn out in three months, tops. We just can’t see each other as anything but friends.’ Why? When did we decide that I’m not allowed to see you as more than that?” he asked, anger in his voice.

This time Hermione stopped moving completely. “You would see me as more than a friend?”

Harry let out an incredulous laugh. “Of course I could, Hermione. What do you think that business on the pitch was all about?”

She sucked in a disbelieving breath. “I thought that was the spell. I didn’t…I didn’t think that it was real.”

Harry shook his head. “Now you’re being deliberately obtuse.”

Obtuse, Hermione thought. Lacking quickness or intelligence. An odd thing to accuse her of deliberately being. So why did he say it? Go through the problem logically—start with the spells. Magic is not truly ‘magic’. It has to obey the laws of science; magic is just another force that can be manipulated. Conservation of mass and energy apply in the wizarding world. Nothing is truly spontaneously created out of nothing, it all starts from somewhere—leprechaun “gold” disappears after a set amount of time, food at Hogwarts is prepared ahead of time, and then transported by Dumbledore--Hermione gave a small gasp as her thoughts ground to a halt.

How could she have been so obtuse?

She twisted her body around to face him, astonishment etched on her face. “Those spells, they could only affect us that way if they were working on something that was already there. They’d be useless otherwise.”

Harry just watched her, his face blank.

Hermione shook her head. “No, wait. They could build on the friendship we have, turning those feelings into something they weren’t. You might believe that you were in love, having all these so called ‘symptoms’, but then when the spell ended, the artificially inflated feelings would end and everything would go back to normal.”

“They haven’t gone back to normal, Hermione,” Harry said quietly, turning to look at the fire. “And I’m pretty sure they weren’t really ‘normal’ before this whole thing started.”

She stared at him, all her thoughts during the night coming to her, her memories of her behavior towards Harry before this strange matchmaking attempt flooding her mind, memories of him swirling around as well. Everything spun about in her brain, until she was able to find the pattern, find the common thread like any good student should be able to do and then she wondered how she could never see it before. She knew the answer, but how could she say anything? “Oh my,” she whispered. “Oh my.”

When Harry looked back at her, he saw the emotion burning in her eyes and knew that the same emotion was plain on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no words came. He settled on lifting up a hand to brush her hair back from her face. Somehow, instead of dropping back down, his hand stayed near her face and stroked her temple. She leaned slightly into the contact, looking at him with wide, disbelieving, wanting eyes. His fingers lightly skimmed her cheek before cupping her jaw. His thumb traced the outline of her lips.

“I remember being here before,” she whispered, leaning forward, eyes locking with his.

Harry shook his head. “Not this part,” he murmured before closing the gap between them.

Harry didn’t believe in perfect moments, but he supposed he would have to start. Something snapped into place and that was the beginning. A gentle touch of meeting lips, softly moving over each other, his other hand moving up to cradle her face. A delicate scent moved through the air, a mixture of them, sharp and sweet, ink and fresh air. Heads tilting one way, then the other, then back again, trying to find that perfect angle, trying to reach every part of her mouth. His mouth tugged at her full bottom lip, before crashing back down again. She was sweetness and kindness and intelligence and Harry wondered how someone could taste intelligent, but that didn’t matter anymore, all he could see, all he could hear, all he could feel was Hermione; he was drowning in her and he didn’t care because he could stay here forever.

Hermione was on fire. Her hands were moving, smoothing over his skin and hair, but he still wasn’t close enough. She fisted one hand in his hair; the other gripped the back of his neck. She raised herself to her knees and ran her tongue along his lips. His mouth fell open beneath her and suddenly this was her perfect moment. He was spicy and warm and cool and delicious. He was Harry and he couldn’t be anything but a perfect match and everything she wanted and needed. Her world shifted, pieces sliding into place and she understood now, she understood everything, how could she not? She wrenched herself away and simply looked at him, breathing hard.

“I love you,” she whispered, wonder tipping her voice. “It’s been there all along. That’s why the effects of the spells were so magnified. I loved you before this whole silly matchmaking scheme. How could I not see it?”

Harry gazed back at her and gave her a small smile. “Don’t feel bad, I only figured out that I loved you approximately thirty seconds before you did.”

“Who said I feel bad?” Hermione shot back, annoyed. “Looks like we were both deep in the throes of denial.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Did you even notice what I just said?”

“What? That you love me? Of course I did. I figured that out at the same time I discovered I loved you,” she said, waving a hand dismissively.

Harry graced her with a full grin. “How lucky I am to love someone so smart. She can figure out everyone’s feelings and then act completely indifferent to declarations of love and adoration.”

Hermione huffed with impatience and exasperation, shaking her head, then looked at him a little shyly. “Do you really love me?”

He nodded. “So much I can’t see straight,” he murmured. “And not because Ron’s hexed me again,” he added hastily.

“You never really said that you adored me,” she pointed out.

“Fishing for compliments already? Very well. I adore you.”

“I was not fishing for compliments, you enormous git. How lucky I am to love someone who willfully misunderstands me. I should just date Ron and save myself the trouble.”

Harry grabbed her and dragged her across his lap. “You’d better not. I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” He grinned goofily at her and then got a thoughtful look on his face. “So what do we do now?”

She looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ve figured out that we’re madly in love with each other, declared said love and accepted the whole thing rather well, I think. We didn’t have any crying or hair pulling or pronouncements that we can never be or we’re just good friends. Honestly, when I discovered that I loved you, I planned on that sort of thing taking up a couple of weeks. Now you’re sitting on my lap and I’m at a loss for what do.”

“I could always storm off in a fit of tears, if you like,” Hermione suggested.

“Hmm, I rather like you sitting on my lap, though.”

She gave him an arch look. “Yes, I know you do.”

Harry cleared his throat and shifted Hermione on his lap slightly. She shifted right back. “Yes, well. That is an option for a later date, I think. But that still doesn’t solve the problem of what to do now.”

“Let me guess, you planned on a passionate reunion, where we both tearfully proclaimed that yes, we do love each other and cannot live without the other, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera?” At Harry’s nod, she continued, “Well, as we’ve eliminated that portion, we can move on to the next phase. What’s the next part?”

Harry blushed. “Er, a snog, actually.”

Hermione clapped her hands and grinned. “Delightful. I knew it was a good idea to love you. Alright, snogging it is.”

Harry looked a little surprised. “What, now?”

“You were planning on some other time?” Hermione asked, confused. “I thought that’s where we were in your grand scheme of love, loss and love.”

“What’s all this about a grand scheme?” Ron called from the landing overlooking the common room. Harry and Hermione looked up and watched in amazement and horror as what looked like (and, in fact, was) the entire population of Gryffindor Tower either shuffle down the stairs or take up position on the balcony to get a view of what was going on. “What about this grand scheme?” Ron repeated when got downstairs. “Please don’t tell me you have a plan,” he said, shooting Hermione an accusing glare.

“Why is everyone here?” Harry demanded, looking around, eyes wide in astonishment. “Were they here the entire time?”

“Of course they weren’t,” Seamus huffed. “Only we were,” he explained, pointing to the Team. “We whispered reports back to everyone else.”

Hermione’s face got very red. Everyone took a step back. Harry wasn’t sure Hermione sitting on his lap was such a great idea now. “What?” she hissed.

“Hermione, he was joking,” Lavender said gently, mollifying Hermione a bit. “Well, sort of. Anyway,” she went on hurriedly seeing Hermione get red again, “we heard the important parts and we’re sorry about eavesdropping, but this was so very important to us and it just seemed like common sense for you two to be together and we just wanted you to be happy (“And to stop contemplating getting extra Potions homework,” Seamus muttered) and now you both are and you’re in love and it’s just all too wonderful, really,” she finished with a gasp. “We were all so emotionally involved, you see.”

“Uh, thanks?” Harry offered, confused. An idea started to trickle through his brain. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. “Just so I have this straight…you were all helping Ron?” To his surprise, the entire room nodded. “Oh,” he said weakly. “We were a House project. How nice.”

“I’m going to kill them,” Hermione muttered. “All of them, right in their sleep. Zap! Gone.”

Harry gave her an admonishing look. “They did help get us together, you know.”

Ginny nodded. “Yes we did, and it was damn near impossible, I’ll have you know. All that work for those spells and potions and nothing ever seemed to come from it.”

Hermione shrugged. “Something came of it, just not how you expected. Really, what did you expect? What you did wasn’t some delicate matchmaking operation; it was an assault. And honestly, how could you do that? All those spells and potions were probably incredibly dangerous and very likely illegal! I don’t suppose you ever thought about what could happen to us if something went wrong,” she said irritably.

“Hermione, all we’ve done is think about what could happen to you two,” Seamus said dryly. “I’ve never done as much research in my life as I have in the last few weeks. We had to check everything about those spells and we did. Well, except for that potion for your sense of smell. I don’t know what happened there,” he said wryly, shooting a look at Neville and Ron.

“Hey, I told Ron we couldn’t just mix plants together and hope for the best!” Neville exclaimed. “I tried my best on that potion and it almost worked! I couldn’t very well ask Hermione for help on it, could I? And besides, it’s not as if they died or anything,” he said, sulking a bit.

Hermione’s compassion got the better of her and she found herself in the odd position of comforting a person who had knowingly played havoc with her life. “It was a good potion for what it was supposed to do,” she soothed. “Just don’t do it again. Ever.”

Neville nodded in relief, glad that Hermione wasn’t going to do something unbearably painful to him.

Harry noticed that Parvati was looking at them as if she had something to ask, but seemed to be hesitating over say it, or even if to say it. “Just ask, Parvati,” Harry sighed. “Might as well get this all out.”

Parvati smiled gratefully at him. “I was just wondering when you discovered something was different between you two. Er, we already know when you found out that you loved each other,” she said, shooting an apologetic look at Hermione, “but I want to know if all those spells really worked.”

“Why? Thinking about opening up a matchmaking business with Ron? Or just interested in getting all the details? ” Dean snickered.

Parvati shot him a dirty glare. “I’m curious about how effective those spells really were. And if I recall correctly, you called them, and I quote, “the bloody couple of the millennium,” and carried on quite a bit when they didn’t kiss, so don’t you dare get all high and mighty with me!”

Harry gave Hermione a little sideways glance and hid a grin at their arguing. “Sometime after that spell for our skin faded, I suppose. The jolt didn’t go away for me. Couldn’t figure it out.” Hermione gave him a tender smile and rested her forehead against his.

Ron’s eyes bugged out of his head. “What? You knew then that you loved her and you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t exactly know how to go about it, you know! I wasn’t even sure I really did love her!” Harry defended, looking back at him. “What was I supposed to tell her—‘Hey Hermione, every time I touch you I get a nice little zap and I think I love you, but I’m not all that sure, so do you think I can grope (“HA!” Dean said triumphantly. “Groping!”) you a little more and we can just see what happens?’ Did you want me to get killed?”

“Why didn’t you just ask for someone’s help then?” Ron shouted in exasperation.

“Well, what was I supposed to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ron snapped, “perhaps something along the lines of ‘Help, I need somebody!’”

Harry stared at him a long moment. “Help, not just anybody,” he mumbled.

A small smile flitted across Hermione’s face. “I am the walrus.”

Harry glanced over at her and grinned. “Paul is dead.”

Ron glared at them. “What are you talking about? You two sound completely bonkers.”

Harry waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing. Just some old Muggle musicians.”

“Oh, they even think alike,” Lavender breathed. “Isn’t that lovely?”

“It would be a little more interesting if they didn’t,” Ron grumbled. “Where are the grand fights, the moaning over whether or not they should be together? I’m ecstatic that they’re together, but it’s all rather boring, isn’t it?”

“We decided not to go into all that,” Harry explained, hiding a smile, knowing what kind of reaction this would get from Ron. “No need for us to fight or worry about that.”

Ron was incredulous. “Decided not to? Is this what that grand scheme of yours was?”

Hermione gave him a small, smug smile, thoroughly enjoying her moment to tweak him. “Well, it doesn’t make much sense to moan about the past, does it? What’s done is done. Wishing for a bunch of hysterical scenes is a bit childish, don’t you think? I’d much rather just move on and focus on what we have together now.”

Ron’s face got very red. “What do you mean--?”

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Lavender gushed, interrupting him. “They aren’t going to worry about their time apart.”

“That is so adorable!” Parvati agreed with a sweet expression on her face. “They’re concentrating on their future together.” She and Lavender heaved identical wistful sighs.

A faintly disgusted look crossed Ron’s face. “I suppose that now they’ll be feeding each other and calling each other pet names. I can’t believe that this is what I worked for. It was bloody hard enough to get them here; a little drama at this point isn’t too much to ask for, I think.”

“Not everyone thinks that Klingon mating rituals are the pinnacle of human dating behavior, Ron,” Dean remarked.

Ron merely looked confused. “Klingons? Who the bloody hell are they?”

Hermione’s head snapped around at the mention of the famous aliens. “Klingons? You like Star Trek, Dean? Which series?”

Dean looked slightly embarrassed but happy to see someone who recognized the reference. “Yeah, I do. The original series is cool, but Next Generation has more involving plotlines.”

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, exactly! TOS has a certain charm, but TNG is so much engrossing. They deal with the ramifications of their actions.”

Harry was looking at Hermione with a certain amount of wonder and surprise. “You’re a Trekkie, Hermione?”

Hermione turned back to him and grinned. “You think I wouldn’t be interested in a television series about exploring space, meeting new civilizations and learning new things? I loved the show. Besides, Spock and Captain Picard were pretty attractive. I always catch up with the series when I’m home for the summer.”

Harry shook his head. “I never knew.”

She nodded again. “I even have a replica of one of those uniforms the women wore on the original series.”

A blush bloomed on Harry’s cheeks when he remembered what those uniforms looked like, but a small, pleased smile crept across his lips. “Really?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and then gave him a saucy grin. She leaned close to him. “I even have the boots, oh, captain, my captain,” she whispered in his ear.

Harry’s blush immediately spread to the rest of his face, but he was too engrossed in the fantasy of the Brave Captain and Naughty Ensign to care.

“You know, you still haven’t told me what those Klingots are,” Ron reminded Dean.

“Klingons,” Dean said absently. “And I think you’re missing the point here.”

“Really?” Ron asked crossly. “What would that be? That nobody tells me anything?”

Ginny pointed to Hermione and Harry, who were now laughing softly on the couch. “The couple for the ages is together for approximately three minutes and they’re already planning kinky games.”

“What do you know about kinky games?” Ron asked sharply, brotherly instincts on full alert. Any possibilities of drama in Harry and Hermione’s life paled in comparison to the possible corruption of his little sister.

“Probably saw all these males coming from their bedrooms, half dressed, sleepy eyes…it’s enough to make any girl start thinking about all the fun that could be had,” Seamus said with an amazingly straight face.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yes, Seamus, I was overcome with lust at the sight of your body in dancing leprechaun pajamas coming from your dorm.”

Seamus drew back. “I hate it when people objectify me like that. Just because I’m devilishly handsome doesn’t mean that I’m easy.” All the Gryffindor boys coughed rather suddenly.

Meanwhile, Ron, upon hearing his sister’s voice utter the words “Seamus,” “lust,” “body,” and “bedroom,” came out of his haze. “Stay away from my sister,” he snapped.

“Oh, Merlin,” Ginny said, exasperated.

Seamus looked at Ron in surprise. “I didn’t do anything!”

“You’re looking at her and you’re half dressed!”

“I have one button undone on this shirt!”

“Shameful!” Ron howled.

“Why is Ron worried about Seamus?” Neville wondered innocently. “I would have thought that he would have cared about that rumor of Draco and Ginny snogging in the dungeons.”

Dead silence. Even Harry and Hermione stopped their planning and looked up at that little bombshell.

“What?” Ron hissed, turning a shade of red that didn’t look at all to be good for his health. “Malfoy? Dungeon? Snogging?” he shrieked.

Ginny covered her eyes with a hand. “Oh, no,” she moaned. The rest of Gryffindor looked on in interest.

“Did you really kiss Malfoy?” Harry asked, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer.

Ginny sighed, hand still over her eyes. “It was just one kiss,” she muttered. “It just happened. I can’t explain it.”

“I will kill him!” Ron roared. “I’ll rip his limbs from his body, I’ll--”

“You will do nothing of the sort!” Ginny yelled. “It was just one time, it was an accident and for the sake of all that is good and right, I am 16 years old!” she bellowed, achieving a remarkable volume. The Gryffindor children looked impressed at all that sound coming from the youngest and smallest Weasley. “I can deal with this without your interference! It is not the end of the world!” With that, she stomped out of the room in a terrific temper.

“It’s pretty bloody close,” he shouted after her. “A Weasley and a Malfoy. What is the world coming to?”

“Well, he is sort of attractive,” Lavender said hesitatingly. “In a Slytherin-y, possibly evil sort of way.”

Ron looked sourly at her. “I’ll kill him,” he informed her.

“Well,” Harry said brightly, startling everyone as he got up off the couch, “all in all, I’d say that this has been a fascinating day. However, I’m getting a bit tired, so I think I’m going to head up to bed. Hermione?”

Hermione’s face was just a bit pink as she answered. “Oh, yes, of course. Very tired. Need some sleep. Have classes to be ready for.”

Ron’s mouth twitched in spite of himself. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, Hermione. We don’t have classes.”

Hermione pursed her lips and appeared to be thinking furiously for another reason. “It’s important to keep your sleeping patterns the same so you don’t mess up your rhythms.” Harry nodded earnestly in agreement.

“Sleeping patterns? You were up studying every night last year,” Lavender pointed out. “You never went to bed this early.”

“My rhythms will be off!” Hermione insisted.

“I think your ‘rhythm’ will be just fine,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Go report for duty, captain.” A twitter ran through the room.

Harry just sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I think they’ve discovered our nefarious plot, Hermione.”

Hermione’s spine stiffened. “I am planning on getting some sleep,” she said, for some reason determined to keep up the charade.

Harry gave her a predatory smile. “I’m not,” he said softly.

Hermione raised one eyebrow. “I guess I’m off to bed then.” She turned and gave a half-wave to everyone. “Goodnight.” They headed off for the stairs.

Harry paused in front of Ron. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Ron blushed, smiled and punched Harry in the shoulder. “What else could I do for my two best friends?”

“You mean besides the weeks of intense physical, emotional and mental discomfort?” Hermione asked. She shook her head and gave him a radiant smile. “Thank you,” she whispered and rose up on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek. Ron blushed furiously as Harry and Hermione moved towards the staircase.

“Oh, and Ron?” Harry said, stopping and turning towards him again.

“Hmmm?” Ron inquired.

Hermione gave him a somewhat terrifying smile. “Watch your back.” Ron chuckled nervously and waved them onwards.

The whole of Gryffindor watched in complete silence as Harry escorted Hermione up the stairs. When they lost sight of the couple, a second year darted forward and ran silently up the stairs, following them. The quiet continued until the second year came back down, a giant grin on her face.

“He went into her room.”

Havoc. Chaos. Bedlam. Catcalls and whooping. Ribald jokes and bawdy one lines flowed through the crowd like water. Bets were placed. Lavender and Parvati were squeeing in such a high pitch, some bat-like creatures in the Forbidden Forest temporarily lost their way. Seamus and Dean were dramatizing some possible permutations going on inside that room, with extremely humorous results.

Ron was weeping.

Neville wondered when everyone had lost their mind.

After some time, the rest of Gryffindor slowly made their way up the stairs, still buzzing happily about the union of two of wondrous Trio and that fascinating revelation about Draco and Ginny. Lavender collapsed onto the couch and Parvati fell into an overstuffed chair.

“You know, you still haven’t explained the mating habits of those Klingon people,” Ron reminded Dean.

Dean grinned. “You would like them, Ron. The female throws heavy objects at the male.”

“And what does the male do?” Lavender asked, interested in these strange new people.

“He reads poetry. And ducks.”

“They sound bonkers to me,” Ron grumbled.

“Infinite diversity in infinite combinations, Ron,” Dean remarked placidly. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“Oh, is this where you amaze us with your experience with females throwing things at you?” Parvati asked acidly. “Somehow, I think that practice is entirely familiar to you.”

“Well, I could tell you about the time when I licked a girl’s--”

“Pervert!” Parvati shrieked and hurled a pillow at him.

Dean dodged it and grinned. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate--”

“Oh, stuff it,” Parvati snapped and marched upstairs.

Seamus shook his head. “Nice try, mate.” He clapped Dean on the shoulder and then turned to Ron and Lavender and grinned. “Don’t stay up too late.” He trotted quickly up the stairs.

Dean shrugged. “Well, I suppose there’s always tomorrow.” He gave a knowing smirk to Ron. “Have fun.” Then he made a dash up the stairs, leaving Ron and Lavender alone in the common room.

“Er, what were they talking about?” Ron said, looking at Lavender curiously.

Lavender just smiled and patted the spot on the couch next to her. “Come sit and enjoy the moment.”

Ron’s eyebrows rose. Harry and Hermione were up in her room, presumably doing very naughty things to each other and enjoying it immensely. They had admitted their love for one another, sparing each other much pain and woe and sparing the rest of Gryffindor their sanity. Personally, his corneas, eardrums and liver were saved from a tremendous amount of abuse and he was quite grateful for that. And now Lavender was eyeing him with the most interesting look on her face. Ron gave her a charming grin and walked towards the couch.

He was a genius.