Hey everyone! Funny Story - I clicked the save icon on the word document for this chapter after I had added and changed LOADS of stuff… and the computer shut down! Taking with it all of the electricity in the house! Well it wasn't funny at the time… I clicked and the whole room goes black! Thank God it recovered…
I have exams for the next 4 weeks (no joke), so not sure when I can update again. I do have a week for "revision" in that month… hmmm….
Oh and due to changes in this chapter and because it just didn't sound right even when I posted it, the preview to this chapter in the previous one changed. No big deal but thought I outa say somethin.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter. Everything belongs to the magnificent genius J. K. Rowling
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Chapter Seven:
The Brabner brothers were the only twins to have successfully taken Fred and George's place as Hogwarts' troublemakers, even though they were only in their 2nd year. They weren't as creative as the Weasley twins ("Give 'em a few yers," was Hagrid's comment on the matter), but they were even more destructible.
That particular afternoon, the Brabner twins decided to let loose a swarm of Cornish pixies on the 4th floor corridor, just around the corner from the library.
***
Hermione's gaze fell on Harry. Even from down the corridor, she realized he had been watching her. The thought made her blush, but she couldn't take her eyes off him. His brilliantly green eyes drugged her, pulling her mentally closer to him. As they stood fixed to each other, it was as if the world seeped away, and they were the only two people left in it.
A growing buzz sounded in Hermione's ear, bringing the world crashing back - she had been in too many similar situations for it not to. She turned to see a small, blue blur zip around the corner towards her. Hermione whipped out her wand, and, with a clever freezing charm, immobilized the pixie. When she realized what was loose in the castle, the faint buzzing had grown to a roar as several of the pixies ahead of the rest shot around the corner. Even from where Harry was standing, he could hear the shrill voices of the pixies and the beating of hundreds of tiny wings.
As a tidal wave of Cornish pixies engulfed the corridor behind Hermione, she turned, alarmed, and ran towards Harry. Thinking fast (not easy with Hermione's internal curses), he opened random a door to his left and pulled Hermione inside after him, escaping the pandemonium in the corridor outside.
Harry held Hermione in a protective embrace. The sounds of glass breaking and books being ripped apart could be heard over the pixies through the door.
The chaos slowly died as the Cornish pixies moved on to find more things to destroy. The only sounds noticeable to Harry now were his and Hermione's quiet, but fast breathing… and Hermione's internal threats to the Brabner twins.
Harry opened his eyes that he hadn't remembered keeping tightly shut. But opening them hardly made a difference: he and Hermione had run into a cramped, dark broom closet.
"Harry?"
Harry swallowed, conscious of the fact that he was still holding her (like he had a choice with the closet being so small). "Yea?"
"Do you think they've all gone?"
"Sounds like it."
"…Oh, but that doesn't mean we have to go…yet…"
Harry's throat went dry. Her reply suddenly made him aware of his situation. He was alone with in a broom closet Hermione Granger. A broom closet that was so small that there was no room to maintain a respectable distance between them and so dark he couldn't see her face to distinguish between spoken words and thoughts. He was in serious trouble.
Harry panicked. He decided just not to respond to anything she said as his hand groped for the door handle. The quicker he got out of there, the less chances of him doing something stupid… well, doing anything for that matter.
"No…why…"
Harry's hand paused on the handle. Had she said that out loud?
"Er… Hermione, the door's locked," he said.
"Hmmm, really? … Oh, stop it, Hermione! Just do it, he doesn't want to be in here with you anymore than you do… Oh bloody hell, who am I kidding?"
"Alohamora!" she pronounced clearly and a small glow lightly the closed briefly, reflecting their faces - Harry's looking surprised and Hermione's bashful.
Harry was surprised; then again he wasn't sure if she was right. His hand, still resting on the cold handle, twisted and found it turned easily in his grasp. Before he pushed the heavy door open, he stopped himself. He realized that she was indeed wrong. He did want to be with her and, considering his options; he'd probably never get this chance again. Pretending to fumble with the handle, he told her it was still locked.
"Let me try," she said, reaching out her hand, only to have Harry's hand grab it. Hermione gasped and Harry closed the space between them.
"Do you really want to go?" he asked softly.
Hermione's breathing was shaky and her hand was trembling slightly. Despite this, she ran her free hand up his chest to his shoulder and explored his neck and jaw line. Harry brought the hand he was holding to place it with the other behind his head. His own arms snaked around her lower back.
Her thoughts, whenever interjected in long streams of "oh-my-god", exclaimed over her thanking the gods for quidditch for his well-defined muscle tone.
"I'll take that as a no," laughed Harry, not quite recognizing his own husky voice.
"Oh my GOD…this is not happening! I'm trapped in a broom closet with Harry! What's going to happen now? What if we do something that might.."
Harry, not taking those to be spoken ramblings, thought she sounded scared. Maybe a bit anxious. Trying to reassure her, he ran his hands up her arms until they held her shoulders.
"I won't hurt you," he whispered. "I could never hurt you. And we don't… we don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"Kiss me, Harry…"
Harry didn't know whether or not she said it for him to hear, but he didn't care. He hands continued their path until he cupped her face, bringing his lips down to hers.
Her thoughts were so jumbled up, Harry couldn't make sense of them. He deepened the kiss as his hands slid down her back, pressing her against himself, and reached the hem on her untucked blouse.
Harry slowly pushed his tongue into her mouth. He felt, rather than heard, her moan when she parted her lips. His hands slid up her back, this time under her blouse. Harry had never in his life touched skin so soft. But then again, he had nothing to compare it to.
Hermione's fingers, which had been tangled in his hair last he remembered, unbuttoned his shirt. She pushed it back, pinning his arms behind him. Rolling his shoulders, the shirt fell off him. Hermione immediately grabbed behind his neck, pulling him closer.
Their now more frantic kissing unwavering, Harry moved to unbutton her blouse, but she stiffened slightly and broke the kiss, gasping.
"Oh God, what am I doing! … Oh stop it Hermione! That was the most mind blowing, erotic kiss … Gees, when did I turn so cliché? Oh this can't be happening… I can't let this happen! … Oh never mind, yes I can! … But …"
Harry stopped and moved his hands, deciding on a different tactic. He kissed a chain of open-mouthed kisses on the side of her neck traveling down. Her hands traced over his back muscles and Harry shuddered under her light touch.
Her movements abruptly stopped and she stiffened. Harry's clouded, preoccupied mind couldn't pick up on anything she was thinking. It stopped too fast for him.
"I'm sorry," Harry felt her whisper in his ear.
He pulled back slightly. He could hardly bring himself to talk he was so caught up in the moment. "Why?" he managed to utter.
Hermione's breathing was unsteady. She ran her hands through her hair and pulled nervously at it. "Damn it his voice is too sexy to say no! Good God, Hermione! I can't believe your going to deny this!" With effort, Harry stopped himself from laughing. Even so, he couldn't hold back a grin. "But no! This can't be happening!" Harry's grin vanished.
"I stopped you, and - "
Harry sighed, and instantly hoped she hadn't heard him. Whatever was going to happen in that moment was lost. He slowly, but surely returned to reality and sensibility.
"No." he murmured, kissing her forehead. "No, Hermione, if you're not ready for anything, we can wait. I won't hurt you," Harry repeated softly, but firmly.
"I'm sorry," she apologized again, reaching for the handle.
Harry groaned inwardly, grabbing for his discarded shirt.
The door opened slightly and light entered the closet, as Harry pulled on his shirt, hair disheveled and glasses askew. Hermione starred at the door ajar.
"Harry, the door's not locked," she said surprised, almost disbelieving. She looked at him and her attention was naturally directed below his bowed head to his open shirt baring his hard chest muscles. She looked away, blushing furiously.
"I know," he admitted, buttoning his shirt and straightening his collar. He was being so indifferent; Hermione couldn't read his emotions like she usually could.
Harry looked up at her flushed face, and she really did look regretful. She also couldn't bring herself to look at him and looked at the stone floor instead.
"I'm sorry," she repeated and was gone.
The door's hinges slowly closed until Harry was left alone in darkness. He groaned again and slid down the wall to the floor, head on his knees and hands over his head.
***
Harry's homework had started to pile up. He and Ron spent the afternoon alone in the library - just about the only two people crazy enough to do this on a Saturday. Harry tried to concentrate on his studies, he really did, but to no avail. No matter what he read, he seemed to relate it to Hermione, however bizarrely.
Harry was looking at his potions book, but he wasn't reading. Harry jolted back from his daydreaming, comprehended what happened, then shut his potions book in shock. His trail of thought had just taken a mad turn from essence of stink sap to the fruity smell of Hermione's hair. He really had to get a grip on himself.
He pulled his Care of Magical Creatures book towards himself and opened it. He rested his head in his propped up palm and read: "Unlike the common muskrat, the Muskeet's long, brown hair … wonder if its curly … and red lips…" Harry closed the book slowly - he was thinking of a different pair of red lips.
Ron glanced up from his own books skeptically. "Harry, er, not that I'm counting or anything, but that's the fourth book you've only read one sentence in."
Harry's head slowly raised and he looked at him miserably.
"What?" said Ron stupidly.
Harry was so tired and out of it he replied, "I can't get her out of my head."
A funny look spread across Ron's face: half shocked, half mildly interested. He sat up. "What's this? You've got your mind on a girl?"
"Uh, n-no… No," Harry stammered.
Ron didn't look convinced. Harry decided this conversation had gone far enough and tried to steer it elsewhere.
"Actually," Harry glanced around; making sure no one could eavesdrop. "Lots of girls."
Ron's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Your bloody potion! Remember?!"
"Oh, that." Ron cleared his throat. "About that… I think that we're going to have to tell Hermione about it - it's the only way to find a cure."
Harry choked. "Have you gone mad? I can't tell Hermione!"
Forget waltzing up to her and proclaiming that he could hear her every thought, he felt queasy just thinking about seeing her. "Ron, you can't just tell a girl you can hear her thoughts - its suicide. Especially when -" Harry paled. "You haven't told her, have you?"
Ron starred. "No."
"And you haven't looked for a cure either?"
Ron shrugged, "Your problem."
Harry gave a dry laugh - he couldn't believe he was hearing this. "My problem? Ron - my problem?! Are you fucking kidding me? You're the one who got me into this!"
"Okay! Fine, I guess I can help you look for a cure - "
"Without telling Hermione!" Harry interjected, sitting back in his chair, crossing his arms, and narrowing his eyes.
"- Without telling Hermione, and -"
"And you can start with that book you stole. Where is it?"
"Er, Seamus still has it… I think … I could go get it if you want."
Harry's dead look plainly said he wanted him to.
"Okay… I'll just go get… yea, see ya."
Ron slid out of his chair and left to find Seamus. Harry sat up and his upper body collapsed. His head hit the table and new pain mingled with his already throbbing headache. What was this girl doing to him? Half the time he thought with his head - which was both rational and wanted her. And at other times, he thought with… well, his other head - which clearly only had one, very defiant opinion.
Harry groaned as he lifted his head off the wooden table. He looked at his books. He really should finish his homework.
***
About three History of Magic chapters and two essays later, Ron returned sneaking the stolen potions book out from under his robes. If Harry weren't feeling as dead as he was, he would have laughed. Ron was acting like he had some top-secret mission to carry out - and was doing so quite dramatically. Glancing at Madam Pince, Ron carefully opened the book and turned the pages.
"Okay, it's here," leaning towards Harry, he whispered. "The Persona non Grata potion is designed for men to hear women's thoughts by concentrating on a woman to better understand the opposite sex …" Ron shook his head, "Whoever wrote that was a complete idiot."
Harry was growing impatient, "Yea, okay, but you already told me that bit."
Ron looked back at the bottom of the page from where he was reading, frowning. "That's all that's written."
Harry suppressed a snide comment and simply said, "Turn the page then, Ron."
"They're stuck together, Harry." Ron remarked with equal scorn.
Harry grabbed the book and ripped the pages apart. Glancing at Ron, who looked slightly harassed, he read aloud quietly, more to himself than Ron.
"The drinker must come to realization with the woman in confusion. Only then will the potions have done its effect to the drinker."
Ron, who was leaning in to hear Harry, said, "Bloody Hell - was this written in the 1500's? What the fuck does that mean?"
Harry thought about it, but didn't answer. 'The woman in confusion…' There was only one woman who ever confused him and sent him mixed signals - Hermione. Every other girl appeared to have set attitudes, but Hermione didn't seem to ever make up her mind about Harry. What did he have to do? 'Come to realization with the woman in confusion…' Did he have to make Hermione believe him about his feelings, using her thoughts? Was he supposed to realize his own feelings? Or perhaps help her come to terms with hers?
Either way, Harry made up his mind. He had to see Hermione again. Alone.