I'm very sorry for the long delay. I went away for the holidays, and I hope that all of you had wonderful celebrations. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Please continue to review. The more reviews I get, the more motivated I become. :)
See Chapter 1 for Disclaimer.
Once again, Harry and Hermione sat in silence, but the silence this time was heavy and uncomfortable. Both were dying to say something, but neither dared. They were still reeling from the last moment. How could something that they thought was so wrong feel so right?
Hermione's face burned painfully. She couldn't believe it. It had made her feel so different. That hadn't been a chaste, friendly kiss. It had been raw emotion. The thought thrilled her, but scared her. What did it mean? It wasn't every day that she suddenly got the urge to kiss her best friend, but it also wasn't every day that she ended up pinned underneath him. She remembered, though, that she had started it. She had hit him with the pillow. But she didn't feel guilty. She felt another emotion, one that she could hardly name. Her heart was full, and she felt as if what had happened was wonderful. But at the same time, it was absolutely awful. It made everything complicated, and even with her sharp mind, it was too confusing a knot for her to untangle.
He was mortified. Yet this feeling of mortification was a new one. He'd been embarrassed before. Why did this feel so different? It felt good, in some way. There was something in his heart that had given way, and he could still feel the heat. The heat. It came back to him. He had pinned her down and not moved. He had been so close to her. And then he had gone and kissed her, not in a friendly way, but raw and animalistic. How could he have done this to her? The feeling that had coursed through his veins was new, as was the pressure in his heart.
The silence had been unnerving before, but now it truly was deafening. It bore down upon them with an unbearable weight. They could hear and feel the blood pounding in their ears.
The slam of a door shattered the silence.
"Hermione?" came a female voice. It was followed by a male voice. "Hey, Harry, I got a new Quidditch game for you!"
Harry and Hermione still did not move, they sat stiff and still red-faced on the bed, facing away from each other. "Hi," they both mumbled, rather incoherently.
Ron Weasley crashed into the little room, with his sister Ginny close on his heels. As usual, Ron wore a wide grin. "Hey!" he declared at Harry and Hermione. Ginny smiled. "How are you feeling?" Ron, however, didn't allow either to answer, and didn't seem to notice that they didn't appear as though they could speak. "This match is a great one, Harry, it's a World Cup game. I've been playing England vs. Ireland, and the Irish beaters are--"
He stopped to rub his arm where he had been punched, and to look at who had punched him. Ginny stood there, a strange look on her face. He questioned her with his eyes, and she led him to look at the two figures on the bed. Ron then realized the odd silence and the odd blushes on Harry and Hermione's faces. He thought for a second, and threw another questioning glance at Ginny. They could practically communicate telepathically. It was necessary, living in a house with so many people. There was never enough time to get a word in otherwise. Ginny read Ron's face, and raised her eyebrows. He went slightly red. "You don't think..." he mouthed. She shrugged her shoulders slightly and smiled. "One way to find out," she mouthed back. He nodded. Ginny and Ron wanted to know, but they also knew that Harry and Hermione needed someone to talk to, other than each other right now.
Ginny stood and faced Hermione. "Hey, Hermione!" she said in an exceptionally chipper tone.
Hermione looked up, slightly startled, as if dazed. "Oh, hi, Ginny," she said with a half-smile.
"You want to go back to your side of the room? I've something to show you."
Hermione nodded, thankful to be out of the situation for a while. Ginny helped her up, and the two walked over to the other side of the room, to Hermione's own bed. Ginny put up the separating curtain, and tried to inconspicuously put up a silencing charm. On the other side, Ron did the same. Now alone, Ginny sat down on Hermione's bed next to her, and crossed her legs. She simply stared at Hermione. Stared. And waited. And stared some more.
Finally giving up, Hermione looked at Ginny. "You don't really have something to show me, do you." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Hermione knew that she didn't really have to ask, because she already had the answer.
Ginny grinned. "Nope," she said. "But you have something to tell me."
Hermione reddened again. "And what gives you that idea?" She tried to sound confident, but she knew that her attempts were futile. She didn't meet Ginny's eyes.
The redhead giggled. "Everything. You're red. And you're not talking. And there is the little scene I observed when I came into the room, with you and Harry sitting turned away from each other, blushing like mad. You have something to tell me."
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do, Hermione Granger. And you will tell me. You know that you'll crack. You're dying to tell me. You really are. But you won't let yourself say it. Saying it might make it true."
Hermione thought about that last statement for a minute. Still, though, she wouldn't tell.
"OK then, you don't want to tell me, I'll guess."
Hermione's eyes narrowed some. Ginny probably could guess it in five seconds or less.
"You tried a new blushing potion. You were trying to see how long it would take to make smoke come out of your ears. Or practicing telepathy. Or trying to use a new charm to force all of someone's blood to their face. Or trying to completely ignore each other while less than ten centimeters away. Or having a Blushing BonBons eating contest. Or recalling embarrassing stories. Or trying to recover from being in a compromising position. Or being disturbed after a bout of snogging..."
Her voice emphasized the last bit, and faded out at the end. She smiled broadly, knowing she had done it now, and stared triumphantly at Hermione.
"Itwasntsnogging," Hermione mumbled.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Ginny said.
"I wasn't snogging Harry."
"Snogging Harry? Where did you get such an idea?! I certainly said nothing about you snogging Harry. I mentioned snogging, but I didn't suggest that it was Harry that you were snogging. Hmm, guilty conscience? Does somebody want to tell me something?" Ginny gave Hermione a sly grin.
Hermione looked at Ginny with a tiny smile of defeat. Ginny grinned broadly, and sat on her heels, like a giddy schoolgirl ready to hear some gossip. Actually, she was a giddy schoolgirl ready to hear some gossip. "So, Hermione... what exactly were you doing with Harry?"
Hermione blushed crimson. "This doesn't leave this room." Ginny nodded in agreement. "I wasn't snogging Harry."
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "And what would you call it?"
Hermione blushed harder. She told Ginny about the goings-on, beginning from the time that she hit him with a pillow. Hermione chose to leave out why she had hit him. She described the pillow fight, and her voice quieted when she described how he had pinned her down. She told Ginny how she'd felt, and how close he was. Hermione's face reddened even further when she told Ginny that he had kissed her.
Ginny grinned. "You said you didn't snog him."
"I didn't," she said quietly. "The whole thing... it was just so odd, so different, like it felt so right and so wrong at the same time. It was only a second. It just scared us so much that we sat up. I couldn't face him. I don't know what he was thinking after it happened. He might be mad at me. I don't even know what I was thinking afterward." Hermione looked down at her feet. Sure, Ginny was her best female friend and she could tell Ginny anything, but for some reason this was uncomfortable.
Ginny smiled. Although she was a year younger, in this department, she was much more knowledgeable than Hermione, who had yet to have a real boyfriend since her half-baked and short relationship with Krum. "No reason to be embarrassed. Follow your heart. And I don't think that he's mad at you," she winked.
Hermione smiled a tiny bit. Talking to Ginny had helped. She was still incredibly confused, but she felt a little bit better. Still, Ginny seemed to not be completely satisfied. A devilish grin grew across the redhead's face.
"So, Hermione, just one more thing. Scale of one to ten."
Hermione turned red again.
"OK, then, he gets an eleven. I always had thought he'd be a good kisser," Ginny remarked, teasing.
Hermione giggled, feeling a weight lift from her heart.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What was that, Harry?" Ron inquired, sitting down next to Harry.
"Nothing." It wasn't abrupt or cold, it was simply distant.
"I should have known that you were going to say that. Well, no need to wait for you to tell me, it was bloody obvious." Ron had never mastered being quite as sly and sneaky as his sister. He'd always been blunt, and he knew that in this case, blunt was the best way anyway if he wanted to get anything out of Harry.
Harry looked at Ron, whose eyes seemed to be laughing. "Nothing was obvious, there was nothing going on."
"Right," remarked Ron. "Nothing going on, even though you and Hermione were sitting there dead still, not talking, and as red as my hair. You two never run out of things to say, and you never blush. All I'm saying is that it's obvious that you weren't, say, transfiguring yourselves into tomatoes."
Harry gave him a slightly venomous look, although it wasn't too angry. Harry couldn't be too upset, because he knew he probably had been obvious. Still, however, he refused to speak.
Ron waited a minute. "Well," he said boisterously. "It's about bloody time!!!"
Harry blushed even more than before. Ron grinned. No words were required. Ron knew. Harry looked down. "Really, I just have one problem. I can't believe I did that to her. She probably hates me now."
Ron grinned. "I don't think so."
Harry pursed his lips slightly. He smiled, just the tiniest little bit. Ron gave him a goofy grin.
"I only have one question."
Harry looked up. "Yeah?"
"Scale of one to ten."
Harry blushed and again found his feet quite interesting.
"Got it. Eleven. I always thought she would be a good kisser." Ron grinned broadly.
Harry's eyes widened and he punched Ron in the shoulder. They both laughed.
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-Menucha