Something to Talk About

Menucha

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 02/12/2004
Last Updated: 12/12/2004
Status: completed

Sometimes, in the midst of a war, Christmas brings out the best in people. Other times, it takes a bit of a shove. One-shot.

Chapters

1. Something to Talk About

1. Something to Talk About

Sometimes, in the midst of a war, Christmas brings out the best in people. Other times, it takes a bit of a shove. One-shot.

I hope you have fun reading this story. I do, however, insist that a high fluff tolerance is necessary to read it. May result in temporary sugar highs. Once you come down, please review. Reviews make my holidays happy. :)

Author's Note: "Devotion" is not completed. I am really thrilled with the way people are responding to it, and I know that posting a new story raises concern that I have abandoned the other one. I haven't. Posting will continue in a day or so. In the mean time, please review this one! Please?

I own nothing, and I'm not making any money from this. Please don't sue.

Hermione Granger flopped down on her bed unceremoniously. Her schoolbooks laid in disarray on the floor, and her form, still dressed in her school clothes, laid still, staring at the crimson bed-hangings. She hated to lay on her bed in her school clothes. She hated to leave books laying open and her homework strewn about, even during the holidays. She hated to just lay there and stare at the ceiling. But for some reason, today, she didn't care. She was flustered. Typical Hermione behavior was to do homework or study when she was flustered. Lying flat on her back and reliving the day's events was most certainly not typical Hermione behavior. But today, being flustered didn't bother her as much as it usually did. It felt oddly... nice.

She shivered slightly, though it wasn't from the winter cold. Not caring in the slightest about her shoes being on the sheets, or her Arithmancy book leaning precariously on the edge of her bed, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her better judgement told her to find something to do, to distract her and bring her back into a territory that she knew. As the images of the day floated through her head, though, she sighed in defeat, knowing that she couldn't ignore the memories. And in a way, she didn't really want to ignore them.

The winter holidays were always enjoyable at Hogwarts. Although Ron Weasley and Hermione had families to go home to, they made a point of staying at the castle over Christmas to be with Harry Potter. Unfortunately, there was always an abundance of homework over the break, given by teachers that didn't seem to have the Christmas spirit. Professor Snape in particular seemed to love to ruin his students' breaks by assigning compositions to be written and books to be read. Although his assignments could be attributed to pure malice, their other huge assignments usually came from History of Magic. As Ron had so helpfully pointed out, "Binns can't have Christmas spirit. I wouldn't have any either if I was dead and still teaching bloody History of Magic!!!"

This year, though, was different. Usually, the trio had most of Gryffindor Tower to themselves. Everyone went home to their loved ones. But this year, everything had changed. In order to protect the students and their families, all students would need to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. They were in the midst of a war, a war more terrible than any of them had seen in their lifetimes. The castle was the safest place for the students, and having them stay at the school protected their innocent families from being attacked by Death Eaters in search of DA members. The Death Eaters could not trace the whereabouts of the families, as they had been put under guard by Professor Dumbledore. Having the students go home would be too risky.

The castle bustled with activity. Many of the students had understandably been upset that they couldn't return home for the holidays, and the staff tried to make the best of the situation. Professors tried to get more into the Christmas Spirit, on the Headmaster's request. Even Professor Snape managed to only assign one scroll of parchment instead of two.

The thing that caused the most commotion, however, was the decoration of the castle. Hogwarts was infamous for its stunning uses of magic for ambiance. This year, though, the house-elves and Professor Dumbledore seemed to have had a little too much eggnog. The entire castle was decked out, from the holly branches on the stairways and dancing gingerbread men in the Great Hall, to the cranberry garlands and even real snow in the common rooms.

It was the morning of Christmas Eve, and everyone, including the always-punctual Hermione, had managed to sleep late. She awoke to discover, to her shock, that the sun was already up. She dressed quickly, and said a quick hello and "happy Christmas" to her roommates. They seemed rather preoccupied at the time, however.

"Really?!" Lavender shrieked.

"I know!" Parvati answered in a similar tone.

"Can you believe it?"

"It's true! Heard it from Padma!!!"

Both girls shrieked in glee. Hermione was rather used to seeing them like this. She loved Lavender and Parvati, but sometimes they could annoy her. There was always some new gossip. She figured that if it was anything important, Harry or Ginny would tell her at breakfast.

She made her way down the stairs to the common room, where she found Dean and Neville sitting on the floor.

"... I just don't know," sighed Neville.

"You have got to pull yourself together, mate," Dean answered.

"But... that? Here? It's a Muggle tradition! I read about it in Herbology. I just... it can't." Neville shook his head.

"Oi, hello Hermione!" Dean called cheerfully.

"Hi, Dean," she smiled. "Neville, are you alright?"

He looked at her and turned red. "I... what if... Dean... why?"

Dean looked at her. "He'll be fine. Just a bit taken with the news."

She got a puzzled look on her face. Could they be talking about the same thing as Lavender and Parvati? "What ne--"

"Hermione!" Luna came toward her, eyes shining. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, I was just about to--"

"Let's go then, before all of the food is eaten. I think that it is physically possible for Ronald to consume the entire kitchen." Throwing an odd smile to Neville and Dean, she took Hermione's wrist to lead her to the Great Hall.

"I hope that whatever it is that is bothering you will work out, Neville," Hermione called, as she was dragged out of the portrait hole. Neville just buried his head in his hands.

Luna turned to talk to Hermione as they made their way to the Great Hall. "I personally am shocked that such a thing would be allowed," Luna stated, swerving to dodge an enchanted snowman. "Seems to me that it would be a safety hazard. The nargles. Can you imagine? I do find it quite romantic, though, but I certainly hope that the nargles have been removed. I would trust that Professor Sprout would see to it personally. What do you think?"

Hermione, feeling confused for the third time in one short morning, stepped out of the way of another snowman, and then spoke. "What are you talking about?" She chose not to ask about the nargles. Some things are not worth asking.

"Oh, look, isn't it beautiful?" Luna seemed as if she hadn't heard Hermione's query, and was instead gazing up at the blue sky of the Great Hall. It was snowing, but the snow never hit the ground, nor touched any of the students, and it was warm. The entire room was decorated beautifully with themes of winter. Adornments that were reminiscent of both wizard and Muggle traditions hovered around the perimeter of the Hall. Nearly Headless Nick was dressed as Saint Nicholas. Near the Ravenclaw table, a small, lit menorah glowed by Anthony Goldstein.

Luna and Hermione took seats along the Gryffindor table, Luna next to Ron, and Hermione across from Harry and Luna. Ginny moved over to give Hermione more room, and they all traded informal "good morning's". Hermione, however still was curious about Luna's previous comments. "Luna, what you were saying earlier..."

"Oh yes," she nodded. "The nargles--"

She would have finished her sentence, had Harry not hit his own forehead with his hand. "You're on about it too?"

"Well, of course, Harry, the nargles--"

"Luna. There are no nargles in the--"

"Really, Luna," Ginny grinned.

Hermione, feeling the strange and foreign sensation that she did not know something all of the others did, managed to raise her voice enough to be heard over the argument. "What on earth is a nargle, and why is Luna concerned about them?!"

"Of all people, Hermione," Luna began reprovingly, "you, after all of your studies, should know what a nargle is."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's rubbish. There's no such thing."

"There most definitely is!" Luna opened her eyes even wider than they usually were.

"Luna. I guarantee that even if..." Ginny threw a sideways glance at Harry "... even if nargles do exist, the problem would have been taken care of. Professor Sprout wouldn't--"

"Professor Sprout didn't," Seamus piped in, as he took a seat on Ginny's other side. "Even house-elves need some entertainment. And rumor has it," he looked around and lowered his voice, "that Professor Dumbledore helped them. Can you imagine! He's admirable and a great wizard, but he's batty! But I can't say that I don't appreciate it. In fact, I quite like it."

He turned his head to Lavender, who had obviously appeared at the table while Seamus had been talking. Lavender threw him one of her dazzling smiles, and he grinned and winked at her.

"Oh really, you two?" Ginny asked with one eyebrow raised.

"And Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan," Lavender added, with a grin. "Why, Ron, you seem to be awfully quiet today. Is there something that you would like to share with the group?"

"Mmph?" Ron asked through his muffin, obviously trying to act as if he hadn't heard the question. Everyone knew that he had, though. He was blushing, just barely. Those telltale Weasley ears.

"So, Ickle Ronniekins, who do I need to madly chase down and pummel?" Ginny asked dryly.

His eyes flashed at her in fury, but he didn't get a chance to argue. "Padma," Parvati said, slowly, and accentuating each letter, with a huge grin on her face.

"Padma?" Seamus said, half in shock and the other half in amazement. "How you managed that one..."

"He didn't," Parvati said teasingly. "I wouldn't give him any credit at all."

Ron simply turned completely red. He obviously found his plate exceedingly interesting.

Hermione, now thoroughly confused, looked back and forth among her table-mates. She didn't like feeling confused. "Would someone please tell me--"

"I... I can't!" Neville said, as he stood fast, a meter away from the table, looking as if he was in a Full-Body Bind.

Dean rolled his eyes as he took a seat next to Hermione. "Sit, Neville."

"But what if..."

"Shut it and eat."

"But I just have a feeling... and I was never good at Divination... but I have this feeling..."

"Bloody Hell, Neville, you'd think that sitting and eating was being locked in the dungeons with Snape, listening to you. Shut it and eat," Dean said. With an odd grin, he added, "Besides, even if your 'feeling' is true, is it really that terrible?"

Neville's eyes really did look as if it was that terrible. Dean, and Seamus laughed, while Lavender and Parvati giggled. Luna gave them all pointed looks (as pointed as Luna could make a look). Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Neville," Luna said, in her light tone, "Come sit here. You should eat, it's almost Christmas. But don't eat the fish and chips. There are Grelwood Pixies in them."

While the others stifled another laugh at Luna's words, Neville took one more deep breath and sat down next to Luna. He looked positively petrified. At the look on his face, the four who had been fighting back laughter dissolved into hysteria. Harry just sighed.

"Neville, really, there's nothing to worry about... it's not been happening to everyone. And if it does, it's still not something to be concerned about," Ginny said.

"Would someone PLEASE tell me--" Hermione began again, exceedingly frustrated, but was interrupted by a fresh wave of hysterical laughter and a squeal from Neville.

Hermione looked around furiously to determine, once and for all, what had gotten into all of them. All of them except Harry, whose expression was unreadable. That also frustrated Hermione.

After scanning all of their faces quickly, her gaze fell on Neville, who was now exhibiting a Weasley-caliber blush. His gaze was focused on something above his head. Hermione allowed her eyes to follow his, and they slowly trailed up to see it. It was small, but noticeable, and glowed with an aura of gold, despite the silver-white snow that delicately lay on its deep green surfaces. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

Mistletoe.

It floated in midair, suspended by magic over their heads, perfectly placed above Neville and Luna. Suddenly, it all made sense to Hermione. Lavender and Parvati. Neville's worries. Ron's blush at Padma's name. Hermione's quick thinking came to another halt, though, as she looked at Neville again. He was not only red as a beet, but he appeared to under a partial body-bind. He was obviously struggling to get up, to run away, but for some reason he was not able to. He reached down to try to move his legs with his hands, but it was to no avail. The harder he tried to get up, the harder the ground seemed to pull back. The cause slammed into Hermione's head with incredible clarity.

It wasn't just mistletoe.

It was enchanted mistletoe.

She'd heard of it, in the giggly conversations in the girls' dorms. Enchanted mistletoe was the traditional Muggle plant, but with a twist. According to her roommates, enchanted mistletoe was made by capturing the laughter of a fairy in a raindrop. That made no sense to Hermione, and logicality was her anchor. She'd completely abandoned the thought, dismissing its existence as just another tale. However, the evidence in front of her at the moment seemed to defy all of her logic. It seemed that not only did enchanted mistletoe exist, but it was right in front of her.

Enchanted mistletoe was said to hang over the heads of a couple, usually a couple in denial of their feelings for one another or a couple that hadn't realized their feelings yet. It had often been said that mistletoe seeking two people out led to the marriage of those two. In a way, it was true. It didn't predict the future, and it didn't change the future. But those who the mistletoe went to find were generally in deep already, deeper than they'd ever known. Mistletoe of this sort fed off of emotion. It sought out relationships by feeding on positive energy, and linking two people with similar wavelengths.

Whatever the stories and superstitions were about enchanted mistletoe, Hermione knew that this must be it. Neville couldn't get up from his seat. Enchanted mistletoe refused to let its chosen couple move farther apart until its desire had been fulfilled.

Neville had to kiss Luna, or they would both be stuck in their spots in the Great Hall. Eternally.

He blushed even redder, and threw a half-angry, half-embarrassed glance at Dean. Dean was too busy laughing to notice, though. "Told him there was nothing to worry 'bout," Dean gasped out. "He's bloody scared!"

The group laughed, with several noticeable exceptions. Harry, for one, looked rather disinterested. "Why don't all of us just get up and leave them alone?" he asked. He himself then got up and left the table, after giving one final glance around the table, focusing on Hermione for a few seconds. He tapped Neville on the shoulder as he passed. Ron followed him, as did Ginny. Hermione pushed away from the table slowly, her eyes lingering on Neville and Luna as she did so. The others reluctantly got up also, but stayed close by, close enough to see but not to be seen.

"Neville, are you alright?" Luna asked softly.

"I... I... I'm..."

"You're concerned about the nargles also? There doesn't appear to be any in this sprig," she said, inspecting it.

"No, I'm... I don't care about nargles."

"What concerns you, then?" she asked.

"I... you..." he reddened further, unable to get the rest of his fractured sentence out.

"Ah," she said, blue eyes glowing ethereally. "You're nervous about kissing me, to put it coarsely."

He looked down, unable to keep her ice-blue gaze.

"There's nothing to concern you," she began. "It's merely a few centimeters of skin, you know. Touching together. Like this," she said, taking his hand in what she must have thought was a helpful gesture.

He looked up, eyes wide. "Luna," he said quietly.

"Yes," she said. "They do call me that."

She gave him a broad otherworldly smile. He looked into her eyes again, and shook his head. "I just... I can't."

"Look at me, Neville," she said calmly.

He did as she said.

Searching for a sign in his round eyes, Luna squeezed his hand once more. "You can't?"

"I'm sorry... it's not that... well... not that I don't... want to... I just..." he sighed miserably and returned his gaze to the table. "So sorry."

She nodded, and her eyes scanned the mistletoe. "No, I don't see any," she said out loud, but speaking to herself. Raising his chin with one finger, she quickly kissed him. "Now, that wasn't so terrible, was it?" she asked, as if she had just been tutoring him in Divination instead of kissing him.

His eyes grew to incredible proportions and he blushed furiously. His jaw dropped and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Nargles really do exist but they only live in Antarctica," he said, his mouth moving before he had the chance to think.

"That's a sincere comfort, Neville, seeing as the school is being overrun with mistletoe." Only she would see Neville's sentence as a good thing to say in their present situation.

She stood up, the mistletoe having left to find another pair to surprise. Pulling him by the hand she still held, she led him to stand also. He finally met her eyes, and squeezed her hand back. They walked out of the Great Hall together.

Still behind one of the pillars of the Hall, Lavender and Parvati giggled.

Hermione walked briskly through the halls. There were too many thoughts racing through her head at once. Enchanted mistletoe? How far to some people have to go for a laugh. Honestly. How juvenile, she thought initially. But then, those unchecked thoughts that she had tried so desperately to barricade came pushing back. It's enchanted... if you get stuck under it, there's only one way out. If I got stuck under it... someone would have to kiss me. What if it was someone like Dean? Would he do it? Would he just sit there and laugh? I certainly don't like him like that. What if we got stuck under the mistletoe? And wouldn't anyone I ended up there with find me horribly unattractive? I can see it now... Hermione and poor random Gryffindor, stuck under the mistletoe for eternity, because he just couldn't kiss her. It would be too terrible. And what if this random guy did kiss me!? What would I do? I've... I've never been kissed before, and it's going to happen under the mistletoe with some random boy, who certainly doesn't want to be anywhere near me. She shook her head. Snap out of it! You sound like Lavender or Parvati! You're supposed to be the focused one, the one with the common sense. But her mind continued to wander, no matter how hard she tried to rein it back. She walked blindly through the corridors, conjuring lists in her mind of all of the male students in the school. Each random person was worse than the next. Eventually, as her pace got faster, she had to stop abruptly. Looking around her, she sighed in anguish.

"I hate these staircases," she muttered, to no one in particular. She was, after all, in an abandoned hallway, somewhere in the school. "Lost, after six years here, you'd think I'd know my way around."

"Oh, but poor little Mudblood, you obviously don't," came the viscous, drawling voice of none other than Draco Malfoy.

Without turning around to look at him, she clicked her shoes on the floor and looked for the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Welcome to the part of the castle that you and your precious Potty and Weasel would never be found. Thankfully, none of you had felt the need to vile the Slytherin dungeons prior to now."

She wanted badly to spit out some reply informing him that Harry and Ron had indeed been inside his Common Room with him and he'd never known it, but she didn't. "Sod off," she pronounced, low and dangerous.

"Ooh, she's getting feisty. Better get back to Gryffindor Tower, so that enchanted mistletoe that's been floating around can catch you." He turned up his nose. "Most of us have more important things to think about than that. Even though you are useless, I did not think you to be quite so shallow."

She slowly turned her head.

"Idiot Gryffindors. You all have the same dirty habits. Throwing yourselves in the way when you needn't meddle, and talking to yourselves. I heard your poor little worries. Miss Top-Of-Class, Miss Brightest-Witch-In-A-Century." He spat out the words as if they were poisoning him. "Walking the wrong end of the corridors, talking aloud to herself about her concerns. Not death, not harm, not the fate that will certainly await her. No, she talks about mistletoe," he mocked. "I do have pity on whoever it catches you with, though. I witnessed that horrific union of Loony and Longbottom. They were perfect for each other, both lunatics. But you? There are no other egotistical mudbloods that I can think of. Hell, I'd even have sympathy for Potter or the Weasel if they got stuck with you."

Fury and tears welled up inside her, and she finally whirled around to look him in the eye. She wouldn't let him see her with tears in her eyes. "Eventually," she declared slowly, "you will find the perfect girl for you. I'm sure she'll be beautiful under Imperio. It's the only way anyone will ever love you."

"Love is greatly overrated. Power is life. The sooner you see that, Mudblood, the better off you'll be." His eyes were cold and unfeeling, and a stony sneer ingrained itself on his face.

She turned on her heels and, keeping her chin high, walked up the nearest staircase. His eyes followed her menacingly, but she would not cower before him. Her initial reaction, once she got out of his sight, was to throw something. I've really been spending too much time at the Burrow, she thought. Letting my temper get the best of me. She recalled, though, that she'd always had a volatile side. When she'd slapped Malfoy the first time, it had given her satisfaction, so much so that she'd almost felt guilty. It was a very Slytherin side of her.

Unfortunately, though, she wasn't a Slytherin. She was a Gryffindor, full of courage, but also fiercely loyal and not the most diabolical of the bunch. Had she been a Slytherin, his words would not have touched her. She would have been so used to mistrust, insult, and betrayal that nothing would have been able to hurt her. She knew in her lion's heart that she should not listen to a Malfoy, but her mind began processing his words on its own accord. I'd even have sympathy for Potter or the Weasel if they got stuck with you. What if she actually did end up with Ron or Harry?

Ron, the one who'd had a crush on her and had eventually figured out that they were far better off as best friends? Or Harry, the one who was her best friend, been there with her through everything, but was her best friend?

It made her head spin. Neither of them would kiss me anyway, she thought. Ron's already been put with someone. And Harry... he's always liked girls that were far more attractive than me. Parvati and Cho. He'd just stand there staring at me. I'd feel so bad for him. How would we ever get out? And... what if he did kis- no, he wouldn't. He'd be humiliated. Stuck with Hermione Granger. Plain Jane extraordinare. She felt a heaviness in her chest that was disappointment and anxiety and confusion and scolding all at once. I've never been one to worry about things like this. This is crazy, it just isn't me. I won't think about mistletoe. Or Harry. Or any other male from our year. NEWTs. That's a safe topic. I'll think about NEWT--"

"Hermione? Are you OK?"

She froze. Of all people. Oh no, her mind screamed. I wasn't just talking to myself again, was I?!!

"You look a little pale," Harry said. "Too much eggnog? I heard that Peeves spiked it."

She smiled slightly. "No, I didn't have any of the eggnog. Doesn't Peeves spike it every year?"

Harry grinned, that lopsided grin that was so very Harry. "No, usually the twins do it."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Mrs. Weasley would have killed them!"

"I reckon that she has more than enough on them to kill them without knowing this little detail."

"Good point," she remarked.

"So are you OK?"

She glanced down. "I'm fine. Just took a wrong turn and... ranintoMalfoy."

He stopped abruptly. "What did he do to you?" he demanded.

"Nothing, really," she assured him. "He didn't do anything to me."

"He upset you, though," he said, looking at her.

She made the mistake of looking back at him. Looking in his eyes generally made her either strengthen her resolve, when she was fighting by his side, or lose her resolve, when he was trying to get something out of her. He'd definitely broken her down with this look. She sighed. "It's stupid," she said. "It wasn't really him in particular, it was just me overanalyzing things."

"What were you overa- oh, wait, you weren't... it was that blasted mistletoe, wasn't it."

She sighed again. "It's stupid. It's just not like me to focus the way I am on it. I don't know why I'm feeling this way. It doesn't make sense."

"Whatever way you're focusing, you don't need to worry about it. I personally don't understand the uproar over the mistletoe. I know that I have... a bit of a checkered past when it comes to mistletoe, but I just don't see the obsession that everyone is having."

Hermione stared off into space. "It's an escape," she said quietly. "Everyone's stuck here over the holidays. Everything outside seems so dark. This is lighthearted... it's nothing that is about war or death or fear. That's why Dumbledore must have done it. To give us something else to think about. Give some people a little fun."

Harry sighed and his green eyes dulled slightly. His eyes very rarely showed their natural fire recently.

"But everyone's talking about this now... the mistletoe."

Harry sensed the apprehension in her voice. "So what's wrong? What did he say to you?"

"I just... I heard everyone this morning in the dormitory, talking about it. I didn't even know what they were talking about. And then everything with breakfast this morning... the way they were treating Neville and all... and then I started thinking..." her voice got much quieter, "thinking about what would happen if I got stuck under it with someone. And the Malfoy... he told me that he'd feel sorry for anyone I ended up with, and... well, that's where I am now. Obsessing about irrelevant things, frivolous, useless things."

"What they did to Neville this morning was awful," Harry sighed. "Seems the whole school is talking. But you, of all people, do not need to worry about it."

"I need to worry about my studies," she said quietly and tensely. "That's what I'm good at, and that's what I can be."

"What are you talking about?" he asked quickly. "You're not just that, and don't ever think that you are. Mimbulus mimbletonia," he said to the Fat Lady. They'd finally made a password Neville could remember. They stepped through the portrait hole together into a full Common Room. "You have nothing to worry about, I promise--"

They were on their way to the fire, but Harry found himself unable to move. He tried again, confused, but then the realization hit him.

Hermione was absolutely still. This was exactly what she'd feared. She knew what it was before she looked up to the ceiling, but when she saw it there, it broke through her barricades.

Mistletoe.

The entire common room screeched to a halt, as all eyes focused on her. She could vaguely hear Lavender and Seamus, twittering away in a corner, every sense focused on Harry and Hermione.

Tears formed in her eyes. He's going to feel humiliated. Why do I have to be the one to put him through this? We're going to stand here forever. I'm sorry, Harry, I really am.

He turned his head to look at her, and turned her chin toward him with one finger. He looked hurt when he saw her tears. She closed her eyes to take away his pain.

She heard his voice in her head, in their tried-and-true nonverbal communication. "You have nothing to worry about," he told her silently. She opened her eyes slowly, but still could not meet his intense gaze. He leaned into her ear, and whispered, "If they're going to talk, let's give them something to talk about." She didn't even have enough time to react, before he did the utterly unthinkable.

He kissed her.

Thoroughly.

He drove all of the thought from her head, something no one had ever been able to do before. This wasn't a chaste peck. It was a real kiss, and she, too, was doing the unthinkable.

She was enjoying it.

In a way that she didn't even know she possessed, she was kissing him back. His hands wove around her waist, and hers found their way around his neck. It felt incredible, and then the biggest realization of all descended upon her. She was kissing Harry and enjoying it. A lot.

Cheers and whoops of joy erupted in the Common Room, but neither of them noticed. After a few more long seconds, they broke apart, due to a lack of air.

Hermione felt as though her legs would have given out, had Harry's arms not been around her. "Wow," she breathed.

"Bloody Hell," he echoed. "Hermione."

He looked into her eyes once again, and the most spectacular realization of all hit her, hard. Harry had kissed her, and not only did she enjoy it, but he did also. She didn't need to tell him not to curse. She didn't care. Because she felt the same way.

He gathered her closer, and held her in a hug for a few seconds. "Told you that you had nothing to worry about," he whispered. "Bloody Hell."

"Give them something to talk about, indeed," she smiled, when she regained the power of speech.

Another one of those utterly adorable lopsided grins crossed his face. "We should try it again sometime. Make them speechless."

She blushed, but she knew that it sounded like a very good idea to her.

Hermione went up the stairs to the girls' dorm, feeling happy and peaceful and shocked and flustered all at once. Ignoring all of the whispers and calls of congratulations, she parted the curtains of her bed, and flopped down unceremoniously. She certainly had a lot to think about, but as she recalled the feeling on her lips, she smiled. Thinking was furthest from her mind. She was flustered, and she'd never thought that being flustered could feel this good. She'd stepped, no, leaped into a new world, one for which she didn't have a map. And she didn't need one. She had Harry.

And a promise.

To make them speechless.

And that was a wonderful proposition.