The Mirror of Erised Returns by xxblue sparklesxx

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 12/12/2004
Last Updated: 31/03/2005
Status: In Progress

Harry, consumed by the feelings of grief over losing his godfather, gets it into his head that
the only way to ever see him again is by finding The Mirror of Erised. But what happens when the
person he sees in the mirror isn't who he expected?




1. The Mirror
-------------

**The Mirror of Erised Returns**

**A/N: Okay, so I know most of you are wondering why I’m writing this fic, when I haven’t
finished The Deepest Love, yet. This fic has just been stuck in my head and I figure the sooner I
get it out, then the sooner I can continue on with my other story.**

**I’m really nervous writing this, because it’s the first h/hr fic I’ve written, and I’m not
sure how I’m doing with Harry’s character. So please, tell me what I can do to improve! ( I
definitely need it!)**

**Chapter One -The Mirror**

Does it ever go away? That painful, depressing, ever-present ache that you feel in the pit of
your stomach after you’ve lost someone that meant so much to you. This feeling seems to have taken
up permanent residence in my stomach, since the moment I lost my godfather, Sirius Black. I’ve been
waiting all summer for it to go away, or at least fade a bit. But let me tell you, it seems to get
worse everyday.

I know that for the rest of my life, I will feel guilty because of the fact that Sirius died. It
was my fault, and nothing that Ron, Hermione, or Dumbledore says, will change that fact. If I
hadn’t acted so rashly, if only I had listened to Hermione, my Godfather would still be alive
today. She was right, I suppose I do have a bit of a ‘Saving People Thing.’ I guess that’s what
others might call a ‘Hero Complex.’ The irony of it all, is my ‘Saving People Thing’, is actually
what got Sirius killed.

I’ve felt so alone this summer, not that I haven’t been showered with letters, mind you.
Hermione has written me a letter every day this summer, and I’ve only responded a handful of times,
but she doesn’t seem to mind. In her letters, she always asks me how I’m feeling, about Sirius and
everything. Part of me wants to tell her to mind her own damned business, and the other part of me
wants to hug her for being so concerned. Ron’s written me a few times, even invited me to the
Burrow once he got Dumbledore’s approval, but I’d declined. I hadn’t wanted to spend the summer
with Ron awkwardly asking me if I wanted to talk about Sirius, and with his Mrs, Weasley constantly
asking me if I was alright, while trying to shove third and fourth helpings of dinner down my
throat. I didn’t want to spend the summer with the twins running around playing endless pranks in
an effort to cheer me up. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts for a while, so I’d stayed at
the Dursley’s.

Unsurprisingly, Uncle Vernon had heeded the Order’s threats, and had treated me considerably
better than he had in the past. I was no longer required to do the cooking, or the cleaning, and
they just about let me alone. So for the most part, I just sit in my room sulking.

I’m going to have to face Ron and Hermione again. Ron’s going to expect me to talk about
quidditch and play chess all the time, and Hermione’s going to pester me about school work. No
one’s going to bloody understand that I just want to be left alone.

The only time I’ve left the Dursley’s was when a few members from the Order took me shopping in
Diagon alley, about a week ago. I had to pick up all my supplies fort he start of next year. I had
to get loads of new books, new robes, potions supplies, and food for Hedwig.

I’m sitting in the front yard with my Hedwig and my trunk, waiting for the Order to escort me to
King’s Cross. Looking down the street, I see Mrs. Figg hobbling slowly toward me. I remember last
summer how surprised I was when I found out that she was a squib. I sigh, because I just
*know* that she’s going to give her condolences about Sirius.

“Hello, Harry.” She says when she’s finally reached me. I give her a small smile in return.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about Sirius, and that it’s not your fault.” I just stare back
at her, knowing it was useless to disagree.

“Well, I’m here if you ever need to talk.” She said, before beginning to hobble down the street
again at the same, slow pace. A few minutes later, I get startled when I hear a few pops, and look
up to see a few members of the Order standing next to me. It’s Remus, Tonks, and Moody. Moody give
me a dry chuckle.

“What have I told you about keepin’ on your toes, boy?” He asks gruffly, and I roll my eyes.

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks says, with a bright smile. I try to give her a smile back, but I’m
afraid it ended up looking more like a grimace.

“Alright, Harry?” Remus asks, with a concerned look in his eyes. I nod. Moody takes out a can of
peanuts and holds it in front of him. I assume it’s a portkey. We all place a finger on it, and
soon I feel that uncomfortable jerk below my navel. The next thing I know, I’m at King’s Cross,
with hundreds of people bustling around me.

***

Sitting in the first compartment I found, a part of me wishing that Ron and Hermione don’t come
looking, yet another part of me will be thoroughly put out if they don’t.

A few minutes later, the compartment door slides open, and Hermione appears. When she sees me,
she lets out a little squeal and launches herself into my lap.

“I’m so glad to see you!” She says, while smothering my cheeks with kisses. I can feel my face
become heated with a blush. Since when had Hermione become so affectionate towards me? Suddenly,
she seems to realize what she had been doing and jumped back, a deep red flush now spreading across
her own cheeks. I would’ve laughed, had the situation not been so awkward.

“Sorry, Harry, I’m just so happy to see you! How are you doing? How was your summer? Did you do
all of the homework assignments? Have you heard from the Order? How about Dumbledore? Why didn’t
you come to The Burrow this summer? It wasn’t the same without you.” She said all this in such
rapid succession, it’s a wonder she didn’t faint from the lack of air. Luckily, Ron chose that
moment to walk in, and in doing so he saved me from answering her seemingly endless questions.

“Hey, mate!” He says brightly, while grinning at me.

“Harry, I really think we need to talk about your feelings regarding Sirius.” Hermione said
cautiously. Ron scowled at her viciously.

“Hermione, leave him alone! He’s not been hear ten minutes and you’re bombarding him about his
feelings like this is some therapy session or something!” Hermione frowned at him.

“That’s because Harry really needs to discuss this, and we’re his best friends, Ron.”

“What kind of best friend rubs it in someone’s nose that his Godfather died? Just let him alone,
already!” Hermione opened her mouth to reply but I interrupt her.

“Look, Hermione, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m fine. Honestly.” I say, while
giving her a small smile. She doesn’t look even the slightest bit convinced, but she decides to let
the issue drop.

The three of sit in a companionable silence for a while, until Hermione glances at her watch and
announces that she and Ron should be heading over to the Prefect’s compartment for the meeting.
They leave, and I’m left alone with my thoughts for the remainder of the train ride.

***

Later on, at the Welcoming Feast, The Sorting has just finished. Gryffindor gained ten first
years, who are all sitting there looking apprehensively around the Great Hall. I smile slightly,
because I can remember feeling the same way when I first arrived at Hogwarts. Someone gives me a
tap on the shoulder, and I turn around. It was Professor Mcgonagall.

“Good evening, Mr. Potter. The Headmaster would like to see you in his office after the feast.
The password is: *Hershey Kisses*”

***

After the feast, I approach the gargoyle and mutter the password. After ascending the spiral
staircase I give a brief knock on the door, before entering.

“Hello, Harry. How was your summer?” Dumbledore asks in a pleasant voice. I just glare coldly at
him because I’m still upset about all the information he’s withheld from me for all these years.
Not seeming to notice my stare, he points to an armchair in front of his desk and I take a
seat.

“Would you like a Hershey Kiss, Harry. There this ingenious muggle candy from The States.
Absolutely delicious.” I shake my head ‘no’.

“How about a lemon drop?” I decline again and he shrugs, while popping both the Hershey Kiss and
the lemon drop into his mouth at the same time. He makes a face.

“Well, that was a peculiar combination.” He said, while reaching for a glass of water. He then
turns to face me with a solemn look.

“How have you been doing, Harry?” I glare at him.

“I’ve just lost my godfather, and it’s all my fault. How do you *think* I’m feeling?” He
sighs.

“Harry, what happened to Sirius is not your fault, and the sooner you realize this, the better
you will feel.” He says calmly.

“Yes it is!” I practically shout, and can feel my cheeks flush with anger.

“I can’t believe you have the nerve to sit there and tell me what to do, and how *you*
think that *I* will feel once I do it! You don’t have any clue, what this summer has been
like, so don’t even pretend like you do!”

“Well, then tell me about it, Harry.” He says softly. The sadness in his blue eyes just seems to
anger me more.

“Oh, no, I’m not getting into this with you!” I say while standing up hastily. “I’m sick of you
people trying to get me to talk about my feelings! Just leave me the bloody hell alone!” I shout
while storming out of his office.

***

Once I get back to the Gryffindor common room, march straight up the steps to the boy’s
dormitories without saying a word to Hermione and Ron, who were staring at me from their seats on
the couch.

I violently wrap the hangings of the four poster around my bed, and fling into it. The crying
starts immediately. This is one of the things I hate most about grief. The crying. It comes on
suddenly, and you have no control over it, and it makes you’re eyes red, and your nose gets stuffy,
and you get a headache. The worst part about it is the fact that you don’t feel the slightest bit
better when you’re finished. After I finally get control of my emotions, I fall into a troubled
sleep.

I wake up panting, with sweat pouring down my chest. I’ve had the dream again. Almost every
night I’ve had the dream about the Department of Misteries, in which we’re battling when suddenly,
Sirius, falls through the dreaded veil. For some reason, tonight the dream seems to bother me then
most other nights. The pain in my heart is almost unbearable. Suddenly I’m so overcome with my
desire to see Sirius one last time, that I get a brilliant idea. The Mirror of Erised. In my first
year, when I’d been longing to see my parents, I’d stumbled across it and it had showed me exactly
what I’d wanted. What could I possibly want more than to see Sirius again.

Becoming hopeful, I creep silently over to my trunk and find the marauder’s map. With my wand in
my hand I mutter a quick *‘Lumos!’* that allows me to see what I’m doing.

“I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.” I mutter while prodding it with my wand. Instantly,
ink begins spilling across the wrinkled parchment, beginning to take the shape of the map of
Hogwarts. My eyes search frantically for the mirror. I quickly spot it. It’s in the dungeons, which
means I’ll have to be especially careful not to run into Snape. I just *know* the git would
love an excuse to take points from Gryffindor before classes even began.

A few minutes later, I sneak out of Gryffindor wrapped in my invisibility cloak and the
marauder’s map to guide me. The walk down to the dungeons seems to go on forever. I am so intent on
finding the mirror that I nearly run into Snape as I’m rounding one of the corners. I doge out of
the way just in time. He stops in his tracks and looks suspiciously at the air around him. Then he
shakes his head and continues on his way, while I continue on mine.

Finally, I reach the room containing the Mirror of Erised. I hastily throw my invisibility
cloak, map, and wand to the floor, but I hesitate in approaching it. Would seeing Sirius again
really help me, or would it just bring more pain? I’m also slightly worried about becoming addicted
to the mirror again, like I had in my first year.

Sighing softly, I approach the mirror, knowing that I have to do it. When I finally reach the
mirror, I nearly fall over in shock. It’s not Sirius I see in the mirror, but Hermione. And
suddenly a mirror image of myself appears behind her, and wraps his arms around her waist. She
turns in his embrace and smiles, before kissing him. On the mouth. Mirror Hermione Granger is now
kissing Mirror Harry Potter. On the *mouth*!

*Bloody Hell!*

**A/n: So, what did you think? Was this chapter really boring? Did it make any sense? Please
review and tell me what you thought!**



2. Advice From a Dreamer
------------------------

**The Mirror of Erised Returns**

**Chapter Two-** **Advice From a Dreamer**

A/N: Well, first I’d like to give a tremendous thank you to everyone that reviewed! You don’t
know how great that made me feel! Secondly, I think I’m going to try to update this fic about once
a week. Probably on the weekends. Well, I hope you guys like this chapter! Not too much going on
between h/hr but, remember, patience is the key!

Back in the boys’s dormitory, hiding under the covers like a scared little boy, my brain is
assaulted by a whirlwind of emotions. Part of me is feeling very confused by what I saw in the
mirror. Why, exactly, was I kissing one of my best friends, Hermione Granger? By the way we were
kissing, it looked as though it wasn’t the first time, and it certainly looked quite a bit more
enjoyable than that kiss I shared with Cho Chang last year.

The other part of me is left feeling extremely guilty. The whole reason I went out to find The
Mirror was to see Sirius again, and instead, I end up snogging one of my best friends! Does this
mean that my desire to kiss Hermione is stronger than my desire to see my godfather one last time?
What kind of person does that make me?

I want to talk to someone about what I saw, but who could I possibly talk about this with? The
most logical person to tell, of course, would be Hermione, but the fact that this whole situation
is about her makes it just a bit difficult. What would I say, exactly?

*‘Gee, Hermione, when I looked in The Mirror of Erised, instead of seeing Sirius, I saw the
two of us snogging. What do you think that could possibly mean?’* Yes, I can see that going over
real well. I can’t talk to Ron, either, because I suspect he still has a bit of a crush on
Hermione. I doubt he would be too pleased to hear that, supposedly, one of my deepest desires is to
snog Hermione Granger senseless. Even if I wasn’t royally vexed at Professor Dumbledore, I couldn’t
ask him about it. I can just picture telling him what happened, and after I was finished he would
just sit in his chair twinkling those blue eyes at me, and muttering some inane comment that
wouldn’t help me in the slightest. Sighing, I roll over a few times in bed, eventually falling into
a fitful sleep.

I wake up early the next morning, my head filled with foggy images of snogging Hermione. I groan
at the thought and bury my head under my pillow. How in the name of Godric, am I going to face her
today? I just know that I’m going to say or do loads of stupid things, and then she’ll ask me
what’s wrong, and I won’t be able to give her an answer. Of course, she’ll think that I’m hiding
something from her and become worried, and I hate it when she worries.

“Hey, mate, get up! We’ve got to breakfast! It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”
Ron says cheerfully.

“Ron, to you, every meal is the most important meal of the day, you great git!” I say while
tossing my pillow at him. He just laughs and whips it back at me.

A little while later, I’m sitting in the Great Hall. Hermione isn’t at breakfast because she,
unsurprisingly, just *had* to get to the library. I’m not sure if I should feel relieved or
disappointed. Probably a little bit of both.

Potions. With the Slytherins. Every year, us Gryffindors hope that someone will take pity on us
and pair our potions class up with, say, the Hufflepuffs, or at least a house that we’re on civil
terms with. But no, every year, without fail, we’re paired up with the Slytherins and we get to
watch their oh- so- wonderful Head of House’s sickening display of favoritism.

Today, we’re brewing a forgetfullness drought. Snape just couldn’t resist pointing out that
perhaps Neville had been exposed to extreme amounts of it when he was a baby, and that’s why he’s
so abominable at potions.

On one hand, I suppose I could consider myself lucky, because I wasn’t paired up with Neville.
But on the other hand, I consider myself extremely unlucky because that meant the only person left
to work with was, Hermione.(Ron ditched me for Seamus, the stupid prat!) As if I didn’t have enough
trouble concentrating in Potions without the added stress of thinking about snogging my best
friend. While Hermione is busy scribbling down the instructions, I walk over to gather the
ingredients.

About twenty minutes later, we’re brewing the potion. Well, Hermione’s brewing the potion, and
I’m just handing her the necessary ingredients. I don’t feel bad about making her do most of the
work, because if I were to help, I’d probably botch up the whole potion, and cause us both to get a
poor grade - and we all know how Hermione would feel about that.

I can’t help glancing at her when she’s not looking. I mean, I realized Hermione was pretty in
Fourth Year, during the Yule Ball, but now I just can’t stop thinking about it. I guess I’m just
noticing it more now, because of what I saw in The Mirror. I wonder if kissing Hermione would be as
good as it looked then-probably even better. Her lips do look incredibly soft-

“Harry!” She screeches, causing me to jump. “I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes!
Pass me the armadillo bile, would you?” I shake my head slightly, before handing over the bottle.
She adds a few drops to the cauldron, before turning to me.

“Harry, are you feeling alright? You were looking at me kind of funny. Maybe you should take a
trip to the Infirmary?” I sigh. I just *knew* she was going to say that.

“No, Hermione, I’m fine. I just didn’t get a good night sleep, is all.” Instead of assuring her,
this makes her even more worried.

“Are you having nightmares, Harry? About Voldemort?” She asks concernedly, while grabbing my
arm. I’m just about to answer when Professor Snape swoops down on us, seemingly out of nowhere.

“As touching as it is to see Ms. Granger’s displays of affection for you, Potter, I might
suggest that you pay attention to the potion. Ten points from Gryffindor for disrupting the class.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Hermione tightens her hold on my arm. I glare at Snape, and he turns
away to go inspect the cauldrons of the other students.

***

A little while later, I’m sitting alone by the lake, trying to sort out my thoughts. I’ve gone
over everything a million times in my head, and I’m still just as confused as ever. No matter how I
try to put it, it just seems like I’m a selfish person. I mean, what normal person would choose to
snog his best friend, instead of seeing his godfather one last time? It’s just not logical.

“Hello, Harry.” A dreamy voice says from behind me. I turn around to see Luna Lovegood staring
at me, well sort of. Whenever Luna looks at you, it always seems as if she’s staring right through
you.

“You seem troubled, Harry. What’s wrong?” At first I want to deny it, but then I realize, Luna
is probably the *one* person I could talk to that wouldn’t judge me, or get upset.

“ Luna, Have you ever heard of The Mirror Of Erised?”

“Yes, I think I read about it in one of the earliers editions of The Quibbler.”

“Well, last night, I went to the find it, so I could see Sirius again, and instead I saw myself
and Hermione. We were, er, kissing,” I can just feel the blush in my cheeks, but Luna doesn’t look
the slightest bit phased. “Doesn’t it make me selfish, or something, that my deepest desire is to
be snogging Hermione, and not seeing Sirius again?”

“No, Harry, I think that you’re looking at this the wrong way. I don’t think you’re deepest
desire is to snog Hermione, I think it is to *be* with Hermione.” I stare at her in
confusion.

“Be with Hermione? I’m with her all the time..” I try to say, but she interrupts me.

“No, Harry. When I say that your greatest desire is to be with Hermione, I mean, that’s what you
want most in the world, because you love her. You lost someone very close to you, and I know that
must hurt, but ultimately, Hermione is what you need to survive. She’s, like, a part of your
*soul*.” I just stare at her, with my mouth wide open in shock. If I thought she was looney
before, this definitely proves it. Me, in love with Hermione? I don’t even know what being in love
means. I must have said that last part out loud, because then she says:

“Of course you don’t, Harry. But, soon, you’ll find out.” She says vaguely, before walking away,
leaving me alone in my thoughts.

When I enter the common room a little while later, Ron and Hermione are having a huge row.
They’re both standing at the opposite sides of the common room, red-faced, chests heaving, and
looking absolutely furious.

“Oh, I see how it is ! I suppose you only date celebrities then? Someone like myself isn’t
*good enough* for you, is that it? Maybe you’d like to date Harry.”

“Ron, you know it isn’t like that! I just don’t feel that way towards you! You’re one of my best
friends, and I love you very much, but only as a friend.” She says back. Hmm, she didn’t say
anything about dating me, though. I wonder if this means she wants to date me. What’s more, do I
even *want* her to want to date me? Looking at her pale cheeks, flushed red with anger, and
her blazing brown eyes, I decide that yes, I definitely want Hermione Granger to want me. The only
question is : How to go about it?

“Well, I’m sorry Hermione, but your *friendship* isn’t good enough for me anymore! I really
care about you, but if you don’t feel the same for me, then there’s no point of us even speaking to
eachother!” He yells, before storming out of the common room, leaving me with a very tearful
Hermione. She plops down on the sofa, sobbing, and I go and sit next to her. She immediately wraps
her arms around me, and I can’t help but notice how good she feels in my arms. She smells nice
too.

“Can you. Believe. That he would. Say those horrible things, Harry?” She asks me in between
sniffles.

“Ron’s just being a prat right now, because his feelings are hurt. He’ll get over it,
eventually.” Well, for the sake of our friendship, I hope he will.

***

It’s been a few days, and Ron and Hermione are still not talking. They’ve taken to using me as a
sort of go-between if they absolutely must communicate. Take this morning’s breakfast for
example.

“Harry, tell Hermione to pass the bacon, will you?” He asks, and of course, I have to repeat it
before Hermione hands over the plate. It’s very immature, and gets old very fast. Hermione still
seems to care about Ron’s grades, despite the fact that they’re in a fight. This is what happened
in the Common Room after dinner.

“ Harry, tell Ron that he better not forget to work on his Transfiguration essay, it’s due on
Friday.”

You would think that if Hermione was concerned about Ron’s homework, she would have at least
cooled down enough to talk to him? But, no, it’s always ‘Harry tell Ron this’. Or, ‘Harry, tell
Hermione that’. It’s so bloody annoying. I just hope for my sake, that they stop fighting soon, or
I may just go insane.

I’m gazing in to the fire, while Hermione is working on homework, as usual. As far as things are
going with me and Hermione, well, it’s strange. How do I let her know I like her, without letting
her know that I like her? Erg, that probably didn’t make any sense. What I mean, is well, how do I
know if she likes me? I wish I could talk to Sirius about this, he would probably have some great
advice, but he’s gone now- and that’s my fault. My stomach clenches painfully at the thought of
never seeing him again. Why does everyone have to die because of me? I know, now, that people are
going to keep dying until I defeat Voldemort. How the hell am I supposed to do that? Why does it
have to be *me*?

“What are you thinking about Harry, you’re awfully quiet.” Hermione says, breaking me out of my
thoughts. I don’t feel like talking about it, really, but I know she’s going to bug me about it
until I finally tell her.

“Sirius, Voldemort, The Prophecy.”

“The Prophecy? What’s the use in thinking about that, if you don’t even know what it said?”
Crap. Hermione doesn’t know that Dumbledore told me about the prophecy after Neville smashed the
original one.

“Well, after the Department of Mysteries, when I was in Dumbledore’s office, he told me what the
Prophecy said. Basically, either I have to kill Voldemort, or he’ll kill me. ‘Neither one can live,
while the other survives’, or something like that.” Hermione lets out a startled gasp, tears coming
to her eyes.

“Oh, Harry! Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?” She demands, while pulling me into an
embrace. For some reason, the emotional tone in her voice brings tears to my eyes. I try to wipe
them away before she notices, but she still does.

“It’s alright, Harry, let it all out. Don’t be afraid to cry.” And so I spend the rest of the
night in Hermione’s arms, sobbing into her shoulder.

**Well, that seemed like a good place to stop for now! So what did you think? *looks around at
the audience shyly.***



3. The Date
-----------

**A/N: I am SO sorry that it’s taken me this long to update. I’ve been very busy, and I’ve had
a lot of writer’s block. I hope you guys are still interested in this story *looks around
hopefully***

The Mirror of Erised Returns

Chapter Three- The Date

The next morning, I woke up to feel my arms wrapped around something warm, and there was
something else tickling my face. Too tired to open my eyes, I lazily unwrap an arm to swat away the
tickle-y thing, before re-wrapping my arm around the warm lump. My head is currently too groggy to
wonder why there are ‘things’ in my bed that I am unable to identify in the first place. I sigh in
contentment, while snuggling closer to the warmth, until I hear someone else sigh in return. My
eyes snap open, and I look around, only to find myself on the sofa in the common room, with
Hermione in my arms.

As the memories of what happened that night come flooding back to me, I want to throw myself off
of the Astronomy Tower from embarrassment. How could I *cry* in front of Hermione like that?
She probably thinks I’m pathetic, now. She stirs in my arms, and before I could remove them her
eyes open. She stares at me groggily for a moment.

“Hi.” She says, while giving me a shy smile.

“Hi.” I reply, most likely grinning like a fool. Neither of us speak for a while and the silence
begins to get awkward. Looking desperately for something to talk about, I say :

“Look, Hermione, about last night-“

“Don’t you dare apologize, Harry! You’ve been bottling up those emotions for months! They were
bound to come out, sometime.” She huffed, starting to look annoyed with me.

“And just so you know, I’m a bit angry at you! I can’t believe you kept The Prophecy a secret
from Ron and I. We’ve stood by you through everything, Harry. You need to confide in us more.
That’s what *friends* are for.”

“I know, Hermione. I’m sorry. I was already feeling guilty that you got hurt in the Department
of Mysteries, and I didn’t want to make you worry by telling you about the prophecy.” She gave me a
teary smile.

“Well from now on, I’ll be the judge on what I can or cannot handle, okay?” She wraps her arms
around me and that’s when I realized that my own arms had been around her during the whole
conversation I hope she didn’t notice. We break apart a bit awkwardly. Not wanting to be subjected
to another uncomfortable silence, I stand up quickly.

“Err...I have to get go um, get changed...so um..I’ll see you at breakfast?” She nods, and I
practically bolt up the staircase leading to the boys’ dormitories. *Smooth, Potter, run away
like a pansy, ‘cause girls just love that sort of thing.*

***

In Potions, Snape seems to be in a particularly foul mood, though it’s not as if that’s a new
development. The directions for the potion appeared on the board with a mere flick of his wand. He
sneered nastily at the class and said that this potion would count as an exam grade.

Hermione immediately paired up with me, just before Ron could. He scowled angrily at her, but
moved on to work with Seamus. The awkwardness that was there this morning was gone, because the
potion required our immediate attention. I hastily collected the ingredients and chopped up the
necessary herbs. I couldn’t help noticing the little spark I would feel whenever my hand
*accidentally* brushed Hermione’s each time I passed her an ingredient. If she noticed, she
didn’t say anything.

We finished our potion with ten minutes to spare. Hermione, beaming happily, bottled it up and
presented it to Professor Snape. He grudgingly gave it an ‘acceptable’ which made Hermione smile
even more brilliantly. This upset Snape, and he took five points off of Gryffindor for ‘being too
happy’. It did nothing to dampen her mood though. She came back to her seat and flashed a smile at
me, and as much as I hate to admit it, my stomach did a little flip flop. I smiled back at her,
hoping that I didn’t look like as much of a prat as I felt.

Later on, Hermione begged me to skip dinner to accompany her to the library. Now, sitting here
with my stomach growling noisily, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why the hell I agreed
to come. Oh wait, yes I can. It was her eyes; bright and sparkling, the way she smiled at me and
the wonderful feeling of her warm hand in mine. How could I *not* resist that powerful
combination? I mean, what else can a bloke do in a situation like that?

The worst part is, Hermione didn’t drag me up here because she wanted to research something
terribly important, she made me come here so that *we* could do the homework that wasn’t due
for at least a week. “You’ll feel so much better if you get it done now.” She had said, knowingly.
Right now, we’re working on our Transfiguration essays, and let me tell you, it’s just loads of
fun. She looks up at me and I realize that I have been staring at her this whole time.

“Harry, are you alright?” She asks, looking at me quizzically, and I try desperately to think of
something to say that won’t sound too pathetic.

“ Er..I sort of need some help.” I say, while looking down at my book, and then back at her. She
smiles at me before leaving her chair from across the table and coming to sit next to me.

“Ok, Harry, what do you need help with?”

“Er, um....everything?” I stammer, partly because I really don’t know what to say, and also
because her close proximity makes it a bit hard to concentrate. She sighs softly, and begins
launching into an explanation about the process of taking an Animagus form. While she’s talking, I
find that somehow, my eyes are drawn to her lips. Their the size...not too thin, like Lavender’s,
and not too thick, like Parvati’s. They look so soft, and suddenly I’m thinking about-

“Hi, Hermione.” I snap out of my trance and notice that Justin Finch-Fletchy has approached our
table. What does he want, and why did he only greet Hermione, and not me?

“Hello, Justin.” She replies politely, but I can tell that she is just as confused as I am. He
looks a bit nervous, shifting his weight from either foot repeatedly. I narrow my eyes as the
realization dawns on me. He better not be about to ask what I think he’s about to ask.

“Look, Hermione. I was wondering if maybe tomorrow we could get together and study?” I can’t
believe he asked her out, just like that. Just who, exactly, does he think he is?

“Well, Harry and I happen to be studying right now. Why don’t you join us?” It’s obvious that
Hermione doesn’t understand what Justin’s trying to get at, here. His eyes flicker over in my
direction, and he gives me a look that I can’t quite describe.

“Uh, I was kind of hoping we could study, you know, *alone*?” I glare at him angrily. But
there’s no point in being angry, really. It’s obvious that Hermione’s going to turn him down,
idiotic Hufflepuffs were never her type. This thought helps to calm me a bit. I look over at
Hermione, to see that she’s blushing.

“Well, I don’t know-...” Justin cuts her off before she can even finish her sentence. Stupid
git.

“Please?” He says in this whiny voice, flashing her what he probably thinks is a charming smile.
Something inside of me snaps.

“Look, *Justin*, she said that she didn’t know. Why don’t you back off and give her some
space?” I say, in a tone so menacing that it even surprises myself. Justin looks startled, and
Hermione swats me on the arm.

“Harry, don’t be rude!”, she says, giving me a stern glance before turning to Justin. “ Alright,
I’ll go out with you.” I stare at her in shock. She must be joking, why would she want to have a
study date with Justin. He’s a Hufflepuff, for merlin’s sake! And, what sort of last name is
Finch-Fletchy, anyway?

“Great!” He says, flashing that idiotic smile again, and I have to resist the urge to bash him
over the head with one of Hermione’s ridiculously heavy books.

“You want to meet here, after dinner?” He asks, and she agrees. He wanders off somewhere else
and I’m left fuming. Then, Hermione turns to me as if nothing happens and resumes her lecture about
Animaguses.

The next morning, Hermione and Ron had finally reconciled after that whole argument.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last long, because Ron asked her what she was doing later tonight, and she
made the mistake of mentioning her study-date with Justin. Ron’s face reached an interesting shade
of red that I’ve never even seen before.

“Oh, so you’d rather date that *Hufflepuff,* who’s hair looks like it’s gotten tangled in
Gillyweed, than me?” He said, causing most of the occupants of the common room to look over in our
direction. I could see Hermione was starting to get upset, and I wanted to diffuse the
situation.

“Look, mate, he was practically begging her, she probably just didn’t want to hurt his
feelings.” Hermione sent me a grateful smile, but unfortunately, my comment only seemed to make
things worse.

“Oh, so she cares about *Justin’s* feelings, but not mine, is that it?”

“Look, Ron-...”

“Save it for someone who cares, Hermione!” He yells before storming out of the portrait, most
likely heading for breakfast, while Hermione looked close to tears.

***

Later today, I discovered, that this fight would be worse than the last one. This time there
were no ‘Harry tell Hermione this’, or ‘Harry tell Ron that’, because this time there was just a
stony silence. I can’t help but feel guilty although, in my defense, I was only trying to help.
From now on I guess I’ll just keep my gob shut.

Classes had let out and I was sitting in the common room with Hermione, looking for all the
world to perfectly calm, but inwardly I was a wreck.. Dinner was in an hour, and after that,
Hermione was going on her *study date* with Justin, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. A
part of me wondered why I was suddenly feeling this way towards Hermione. Would I have ever looked
at her as more than a friend if I hadn’t stumbled across the Mirror of Erised again?

“Is something on your mind Harry, you’ve got this funny expession on your face.” She said,
looking at me with a concerned expression. I think about what I want to say carefully, before I
reply. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.

“Hermione, are you *sure* you want to go on that..er... date with Finch-Fletchy?” I ask,
hoping that she won’t get mad. She gives me a knowing smile. Gods, she can’t *know*, can
she?

“Oh, Harry. Now it all makes sense. You’re reaction in the library and everything...” I gulp. “I
should’ve known you were just looking out for me. You and Ron are always acting as if you’re my
brothers. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
Brotherly concern, is that we she thought? Well, I suppose it’s better than the truth, but then why
do I feel like I just got punched in the gut?

“Yeah, well you know, just making sure...” I mumbled, and she leaned over and kissed me on the
cheek. The feeling of her soft lips against my cheek made me blush instantaneously. The feeling was
incredible. It made me want to continue making a prat out of myself just so that she’d do it again.
But, then I remembered that she thought of me as a *brother*. What I was feeling for her right
now would be considered very inappropriate between siblings. I shift away from her a bit.

“Look, Hermione. I’ve got to go find Ron, just to see how he’s doing, you know?” She nodded, not
seeming to notice how uncomfortable I was feeling at the moment. It almost killed me to say the
words that came out of my mouth next.

“So, if I don’t see you before you have to leave, good luck with your date.” She gave me a warm
smile, looking as if she’s was going to kiss me on the cheek again, so I put even more distance
between us by standing and hastily exiting the common room.

***

A few hours later, after walking around the grounds, I come back to the common room to find it
deserted, except for Ron sitting gloomily by the fire. When he sees me he gives me what looks like
a half-hearted grin. I know that Hermione’s date must be getting to him, too.

“Hey mate, want to play a game of chess?”

“Sure.” I say, and Ron runs upstairs to fetch his set. The distraction would be good for me,
help me keep my mind of Hermione and her date.

I don’t know how long Ron and I sat there, playing chess but it seemed like forever when
Hermione finally walked in the door. She didn’t feel upset, or happy either, but I’m still anxious
to know what happened.

“Well, how’d it go?” Ron asked bluntly, surprising both of us, considering how upset he’d gotten
with Her earlier this morning. She sighed.

“Well, he’s very nice, funny, and smart..but when he kissed me,” My hands balled into fists, and
my jaw clenched. “There just wasn’t anything there. We’re just going to be friends.” Well, that
made a little bit relieved, but I was still furious. How could she let him kiss her? I look over at
Ron, to see that he looks about as angry and jealous as I feel. I hope that hufflepuff gets drowned
by the squid. Hermione’s staring at the both of us, obviously expecting some sort of reaction,
while I’m trying to keep myself from smiling at the fact that she won’t be seeing anymore of
*Finch-Fletchy* anytime soon.

“Er, well, better luck next time, then?” I offer, and it seems to be the right thing, because
Hermione flashes a quick smile at me before quickly saying goodnight and climbing the staircase to
the Girls’ Dormitory.

***

The next morning, I woke up in a bad mood after having a nightmare about Sirius falling under
the veil. It had started out nice. Memories of Ron, Hermione, and I visiting him in the cave, or
spending time with him at Grimmauld Place, and then suddenly I was back at the Department of
Mysteries, watching Sirius fall through that blasted veil. Shaking my head slightly, I try to rid
myself of these thoughts and begin to get ready for the day.

A little while later, Ron, Hermione, and I were walking down to breakfast. Ron and Hermione now
seemed to have a tentative sort of truce, both being careful of what was said so not to upset each
other. I can only hope that this truce lasts longer than the last one. I look up to see
Finch-Fletchey walking toward us, looking very alive. Apparently the squid hadn’t gotten to drown
him last night, I’ll have to make arrangements with it to kill Justin later. I narrow my eyes,
didn’t Hermione make it clear to him last night that she wasn’t interested? I had assumed this was
a mutual decision between the both of them. He stops right in front of us, and smiles at Hermione.
I look over at Ron, and if the redness of his face is anything to go by, he looks like he wants to
punch him, but instead settles for a deadly glare. I decide to do the same. He seems oblivious to
our stairs as he captures Hermione’s attention.

“Hey, Hermione.” He says casually. She smiles at him, before replying.

“Hi, Justin, what’s up? Is that Aritmancy equation still giving you trouble?” He smiled again,
and shakes his head.

“No, actually, I was wondering if I could borrow Harry for a moment.” He says while looking over
at me, catching me shooting him my deadly glare, but he doesn’t seem too intimidated. Hermione,
however, looks surprised and I can’t blame her. What did Justin have to say that would be of any
interest to me?

“Oh, okay then. Ron and I will meet you in the Great Hall, all right Harry?” I nod, watching her
and Ron walk off. I turn my gaze to Justin who’s staring at me again with that expression that I
can’t read, so I glare at him, not knowing what else to do. I’m aware that I’m probably acting like
an immature prat right now, but the guy really gets under my skin. He’s the first guy, apart form
Viktor Krum, to ask Hermione on a date, and it really bothers me.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, you’ve won and you know it.” I guess he can tell by my puzzled
expression that I have no idea what he’s going on about.

“You sabotaged my date with Hermione.” He accuses.

“What the hell are you talking about? I wasn’t even there!” I say angrily. I hate being falsely
accused of things, I get it enough from Snape as it is.

“That’s my bloody point! You weren’t even there, and yet you still managed to come between us.”
Come between them? Is he off his rocker? It’s not like there was anything to become between, they
weren’t even in a relationshiop! I say as much to Justin and he sneers.

“Yeah, well that’s only because she was so wrapped up in *you*, the whole time! Everything
that came out of her mouth was somehow related to you! It’s obvious that she fancies you!” I was
stunned. He was obviously mistaken, there was *no way* that Hermione fancied me. Wasn’t she
saying just last night that she thought of me like a brother?

“Look, even if Hermione did like me..I ..we’ve.. It’s not like we’ve dated or anything!”

“Yes, but it’s not like you’re opposed to the idea, because I know you like Hermione.” I open my
mouth to deny it, but before I can say anything he cuts me off.

“I *saw* the way you were looking at her before I approached the table, Potter, and .” He
said, and I feel my cheeks heat up, partly from embarrassment, and partly from anger.

“Well, what the bloody hell do you want me to say? That I’m sorry that it didn’t work out
between the two of you? ‘Cause I’m not!” I realize that was a little harsh, so I take a deep breath
and apologize.

“Look, Justin, I’m sorry. I’ve been acting a bit irrational lately.” He smiles at me sadly.

“It’s okay, love can make you do things like that.” He walked away, with his shoulders slumped,
and I suddenly realize that I *do* feel a bit sorry for him.

**A/n2: Well..that seemed like a good place to end it! So..what did you guys think? Please
r/r.**