Chapter two: Worries, threats, and promises
Hermione tossed and turned in her bed. She wasn't calm, and she couldn't sleep at all. She had returned to the Common Room after her meeting with Harry and hadn't found Ron anywhere. Seamus Finnigan told her that he'd gone looking for her when he saw she hadn't arrived yet, and was still out. She was silently grateful of Ron to do that; she didn't feel very up to talking with him just yet; talking with Harry had left her strangely exhausted and buzzing with thoughts. She would rather just go straight up to her bed and think.
She estimated that she had been in her bed for an hour or so since she went up. She deeply wanted to sit by the warm fire of the Common Room and just wipe her worries and thoughts away, but it was too early to go downstairs. It was ten o'clock and she was sure that she would find Ron. She just knew it.
Despite this, she grabbed a comfortable quilt and a soft pillow and made her way downstairs, where she poured herself some water and sat beneath the quilt by the fire.
But, as if her thoughts had called him there, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Ron entered the room, looking completely worn out and depressed. He made his way through the tables, and found her on the couch, gazing absently at the water jug beside the window. She jumped when she saw him standing there. He snorted and sat beside her.
"So, you get lost or something?" He asked derisively, though his mouth was curled into a tender and loving smile. He played with her hair as he laughed, "After seven years here, you'd think you would know your way around, but I guess not."
Hermione ignored him. She had no time for this nonsense. She had so much more to worry about right now…her dignity and her affair with Harry were at the top of her list, but other more important things she had in mind were Ron's feelings, her parents' opinion, and her schoolwork.
"Hermione? I was only kidding…you know that, right?" Ron asked concernedly. He didn't want Hermione to be upset with him…not now, when the time was so close. It would be the most daring thing he'd ever do in his life, he knew, and he would be ecstatically proud if he succeeded in having Hermione Jane Granger as his wedded wife. He had his and her parents' support and approval; all he needed was a mere 'yes'. Of course, the marriage ceremony was a few months away, but at least he'd have a promise to keep him going: a promise of love.
But he would wait until the Masked Ball that Saturday. He had five days to try and court her into it. He had already had a head start-a year as a couple, around six years as friends-but in those days he would try harder than ever to be polite, loving, caring, and respectful of her. He needed her on his side for her to say yes to his proposal.
"Yes, I know Ron, don't worry." Hermione said in a low voice, coming to meet his eyes. She smiled weakly and shrugged, "I'm just tired…it's been a terrifyingly long day."
Ron nodded. Potions class had been dreadful; Snape had made them practice an excruciatingly difficult potion that even his most talented potion-makers hadn't been able to master, among them Hermione. He had expressed deep disgust at them all, including the Slytherins, "I am revolted at you all. Am I to understand that I have been wasting my time with you all this time? You are the best of the best-though some of you are here by mere…casualties, -" He had said the last word in a low hiss, glaring at Harry and Ron, ",and it is still inexcusable. I am assigning an essay for this Friday on the correct method of concocting medicinal potions. It is to be twenty-four inches long and I will accept no excuses." He had hissed, smirking at them.
Everyone, including the Slytherins, had been close to hexing him.
"Yeah…" Ron muttered, and decided to change the subject. Potions Class always got him riled up, "So, listen, you heard about the Yule Ball, right?" He asked nervously, scratching his head slightly. He had to word things carefully so that she would be glad to go, not as if it was a duty.
Hermione resisted an urge to roll her eyes. Here she was, with much more crucial things to worry about, and Ron was wasting her time asking her to the Yule Ball. It was obvious they were going together, anyway, so why ask? As his girlfriend, it would look rather bad if she went with someone other than him. She looked at him with a mildly interested expression and nodded, "It's this Saturday, right?"
"Yes, at six o'clock. Are we…um…going together?" He asked stupidly, stroking her face gently. He watched as she laughed softly and put her hands on her hips, "Well, of course, Ron! I am your girlfriend, after all. I couldn't call myself that at all if I went with someone else." She laughed again and slopped back onto the couch, where she made herself comfortable with her quilt and pillow.
It was annoying that Ron was even talking to her about this, but a small part of her found it strangely amusing when she saw her face asking her. He looked as if this was the first time he'd asked her on a date! Poor guy, she thought, but I can't help it. It's stupid enough that he's even asking me this, but his face…oh, he looks so anxious! It's rather comical, in an odd way.
Ron's ears reddened in embarrassment at her reaction, "You're right…but…I want you to feel free to make your decisions. I don't want you to feel like I'm the one who decides things for you." He explained, coming to lie down next to her under the quilt.
Hermione smiled. Ron really was a good guy, wasn't he? He was so thoughtful and sweet when he proposed himself to it. It had made her much less tense to laugh a bit, and to know that he didn't intend to order her around. Yet it also made her wonder whether Harry would be the same kind of husband. Would he treat her with such respect and care? Would he treat her lovingly?
Ron had scooted over next to her and was now lying down with her. Involuntarily, Hermione's frame stiffened. She knew Ron wasn't up to anything he shouldn't be, but lying there feeling him so close suddenly made her remember all her worries about her dignity and reputation. She swallowed nervously, and looked at him. His eyes were closed and he was smiling slightly. He had managed to cover himself a bit with the quilt, and was using his arm as a pillow. He looked entirely too peaceful to disturb, really. Hermione considered simply sleeping there, but she couldn't. It didn't feel right at all.
She managed to wriggle away from his arm, which was absently stroking her back, and whispered a good night softly into his ear. He looked up at her with a surprised expression and, as if he had understood, nodded, wishing her a good night as well. She hovered there for a moment, looking at him with a sad look. Why couldn't she just stay with Ron? He clearly loved her to death, so why was it so hard for her to love him back? Why did she have to choose the hardest of her options? Feeling the tears welling up in her eyes, she turned around and headed for the girls' dormitories.
Ron looked intently as she walked away. He couldn't help it. He felt like he was losing her steadily everyday. It was as if she was so far away from him suddenly…of course, he didn't expect her to sleep with him; he hadn't expected that at all. He had been overcome by tiredness, and that quilt looked so cozy…plus, she was very soft, so he just did what his instinct told him: Go for the comfort. It felt rather careless to do so now, really, she must have thought him sick.
Ron gathered the quilt and the pillow she had left and took them up with him to the boys' dormitories. They would remind them of her, as they had the same beautiful scent she always gave off. Returning to his thoughts, he found there was no denying that she was often colder with him, and sometimes even cruel. They hardly talked like they did before, and she was spending less and less time with him. It's just like Harry, he realized with a slight pang.
And as he climbed into his four poster bed and buried himself beneath the quilt, he chanced a sideways glance at Harry, wondering miserably whether he was losing both his best friend and the love of his life.
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Harry woke up the next day with an air of extreme happiness and relaxation. He couldn't believe it. He'd told Hermione. Finally, he'd let her know about all his feelings for her. He'd confessed, and the best thing was, that she actually felt the same way about him.
Or so she said, he thought sulkily, realizing how unlikely that was and returning abruptly to his usual feeling of hopelessness and longing. For all he knew, she might have lied to make him feel better, and was now toying with his emotions, wondering how she could get rid of him finally.
Don't be stupid. Hermione's not like that…she's an honest person. She would never lie to me and much less play with my feelings. She would never do that. Harry sighed as he pulled on his robes and caught a glance of Ron. He wasn't looking too well, either. He had dark circles under his eyes and was looking rather pale. That might be due to bad sleep, of course, but Harry had a sneaking suspicion that it was more than that.
Even before he had told Hermione everything he felt, she had been acting rather strangely with Ron. It was as if she was tired of him. She hardly ever spent time with him, and almost always was snapping or sneering at him. Though, when she wasn't acting like a raging banshee, she was very sweet and cuddly with poor old Ron. Harry hoped she wouldn't start acting like that with him. He had waited long enough to love her and have her at his side, and he wasn't about have her get bored and throw him away like an old doll.
Again, Harry reminded himself that Hermione was a good person and wouldn't do that to him, but this time he simply couldn't bring himself to believe it. If she did that to Ron, who had clearly done so much for her and had treated her like a queen, then how would she treat Harry, who had been to cowardly to confess his love, and had done absolutely nothing for her, except wallow in self-pity and misery every day?
"Harry, you alright, mate?" Ron asked suddenly, there was a mildly concerned expression playing in his face. Harry looked up in surprise and nodded, "Come on…we have to get a move on…we haven't eaten breakfast yet." He said hoarsely, clearing his throat and walking towards the door.
"Wait…I want to ask you something first." Ron said quickly, closing the door slightly. Harry stopped dead in his tracks and turned to his friend, who was frowning and staring at the door, as if he suddenly regretted even trying to start the conversation.
Harry waved a hand in front of his nose to catch his attention. He looked up and nodded slowly, coughing slightly, "Harry…you know we're still friends, right?" He asked, "We hardly hang out together anymore-the three of us, I mean-but you know we still care about you, right?"
Harry remained astonished. The reason as to why Ron was even speaking to him remained a mystery. And, most particularly, about this! During the last few weeks, it was as if they had agreed without speaking to not bother each other at all. Ron was to hang out with Hermione, and Harry left them alone.
"I…" Harry considered simply agreeing with Ron and getting away from him as quickly as possible, but he couldn't. Ron had to know what he thought about all this, "Ron…honestly…what kind of a friend prefers his girlfriend over his best friend? For us, in particular, it should have been easy to get along together…we'd been friends since our First Year! I--I really don't understand what went through your mind and made you decide to stop being friends." Harry said in a cool voice, and his performance was only brought down by his loss of words. He didn't know how to explain this at all.
Ron stood as if he were glued to the spot. He had expected Harry to reassure him that they were friends and let the whole thing go. That he actually thought to explain what he felt about all this had never crossed his mind. He was rather taken aback; what should he respond to that? A simple 'I'm sorry' and get it out of the way?
"I…err…I…" Ron sputtered. He really had nothing to say to that. With slight shock, he realized that he had been pushing Harry away all along to make way for his new life. He wanted Hermione so much, that he had excluded Harry so that he could get used to his new role as her boyfriend. In his mind, he had to be redeemed in Hermione's eyes for being so inconsiderate and cruel to her all those years before, and in his quest to do so, he forgot all about Harry.
Harry knew Ron was uncomfortable. He obviously thought Harry would just say that it was all okay and move on with his life. A small part of Harry wished that could have happened as well. They were now stuck in an awkward silence that just didn't seem to have a way out of.
Just when Harry was considering even giving Ron a hug, the door to the dormitories swung open unexpectedly and hit him squarely on his forehead. He stumbled backwards, waving his arms madly trying to find something to support himself. He heard someone shriek and footsteps heading towards him. His vision was rather blurry, but he could distinguish Ron's bright red hair and a much shorter and slender figure with bushy brown hair.
"Hermione…?" He mumbled as he felt someone grab his arms and gather him up. The person's hands were very soft and delicate, and he could recognize her voice, "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were standing there! Oh, God, you look terrible-you're bleeding!" She said in a shrill voice, and he felt her grasp for something in her robe pockets. She then pressed what he thought was a piece of cloth to his forehead in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
"Ron!" She called urgently. Ron had been standing about two feet away from them, staring amazedly at Hermione. She had moved and acted so quickly, and he still hadn't had time to take in what had happened, "Help me get Harry to his bed, will you?"
Ron stared at her. What is she on about? Blimey, she acts like Harry is dying or something! He just got hit by a stupid door! He's not going to die anytime soon. He thought sulkily. Even to himself he sounded selfish and heartless, though, so he didn't dare say a word to Hermione. He could just hear her scathing remark…
"Mobilicorpus." Ron took out his wand and levitated Harry to his bed, giving Hermione a sour look. "You really don't work under pressure at all, you know?" He scoffed, magically healing the small cut on Harry's forehead. It was true, after all…had she really thought of lifting Harry instead of using a wand? Maybe all that muggle influence really was bad for her.
"Oh, shut up." She snapped, sitting beside Harry on the bed. She gently stroked his forehead before waking him up. "Enervate." She whispered, pointing her wand to his forehead while absentmindedly plying with his hair.
Harry woke up with a start. His vision was still rather blurry, but he could see Hermione leaning over him, and Ron glaring daggers at them both, standing by the door. Realizing he was on his bed, he made to sit. He glanced, puzzled, at Ron, and turned to Hermione, "What in the world just happened?" he asked slowly, rubbing his aching forehead.
"I think you were standing by the door…talking with Ron, and I came in rather brusquely, and, well, the door hit you." Hermione said, giving him an apologetic look and shrugging, "You're fine now, though."
"She then proceeded to pressing a cloth to your forehead to 'stop the bleeding' and asking me to heave you over to your bed." Ron said mockingly as he pocketed his wand, though he attempted to mask his disgust at their cuddly behavior by giving him a small grin.
"That was unnecessary, Ron." Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes at him. She turned to Harry and smiled, "So…are you hungry? We'd better hurry if you are, though, Defense Against the Dark Arts starts in half an hour."
Harry nodded, and got off the bed slowly. Hermione stood up after him and tried to fix his hair, which was quite sweaty and rather bloody. He shrugged her off, and made his way towards the door. Whatever had just happened, Hermione had clearly lost her mind and started acting too obvious around him. Obvious enough, he knew, to alert Ron of their relationship.
It was almost a promise that things could only go downhill from there.
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Though late, Harry arrived to his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He ushered a quick apology to Professor Lupin and headed for his usual seat. As he sat down, he caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy, who was entertaining himself considerably by setting several of the Gryffindor's quills on fire.
"As I was saying, students, today we shall be practicing an advanced form of the Protego shield. It allows you to cast spells at your opponent, while at the same time, blocking their spells. It comes in handy, you see, because it manages to block most basic spells and hexes as well as the more complicated and serious ones." Lupin explained, "The correct incantation is this, 'Protego Auctus'." He said, enunciating clearly, "Repeat after me, 'Protego Auctus'!"
He looked at them all in turn as they repeated after him, his eyes twinkling, "Good, now, wands out and everybody up! We're going to have a practical lesson. I shall divide you all into pairs for you to practice."
Harry got up excitedly. He enjoyed practical lessons, particularly because he tended to be good at defense. It was his best subject, after all. He chanced a half-glance at Hermione and found her bobbing up and down happily beside Ron, who, though he hid it quite well, seemed quite glad, too.
Harry's enthusiasm diminished considerably, however, when professor Lupin announced that he would be pairing Slytherins with Gryffindors as well as same-house pairings. "I know that many of you may be opposed to this, but you need to learn to deal with anyone, not just the same people." He said, sensing the discomfort that seemed to have spread through the class. Malfoy's eyes shone maliciously at this, glancing at Harry and cracking up.
Ron was paired with Crabbe, Hermione was paired with Neville, and Harry was paired with-big surprise-Malfoy. Harry sighed deeply as he walked over to the spot assigned to him and looked over at Malfoy, who was supposed to be standing across from him, but was now walking towards him, smirking. He walked with an excessive amount of smugness, fingering his wand.
"Hello, Potty." He drawled, stopping when he was merely a foot or two away from Harry and smirking.
Harry wasn't in the mood for this at all, "Shove off, Malfoy." He snapped, his hand in his pocket, clutching his wand. He knew better than to be completely undefended whilst in Malfoy's company, however poor the git's wands skills might be.
"It wouldn't do well to speak to me in such manner, you know..." Malfoy hissed dangerously. He snorted lightly, "Of course, I wouldn't expect you to know that. You Gryffindors are hardly gifted in intellect."
"At least we have the courage to accept the consequences of our actions." Harry said calmly, "You Slytherins---particularly you, Malfoy---are always getting yourselves in trouble and running away like cowards."
"Really, Potter? I'm not sure I'll be the one running after everything comes out into the light..." Malfoy hissed threateningly, his eyes boring into Harry's.
"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded. He had a bad feeling about the way Malfoy was looking at him. It was as if he could...
No, of course not, Harry thought to himself, tearing his eyes away to look at the floor. Malfoy? A Legilimens? Please...the stupid prat couldn't possibly have learned that.
Malfoy smiled maliciously and opened his mouth to speak. But just as he did so, Professor Lupin told everyone to please stand in their assigned positions and, on the count of three, to begin the duel. Malfoy stepped back several steps and held his wand in front of him. Harry did so, not taking his eyes off him. He'd had the pleasure of dueling with Malfoy before and was aware that he didn't care much for the rules.
"One..." Lupin said, eyeing all of the students closely, "Two..."
Harry prepared himself for the duel. He would enjoy cursing Malfoy very much, he knew. Yet, a small part of him wanted to keep him well just to find out what he seemed to know. Harry had a bad feeling it was about Hermione, but consoled himself, thinking he had many other secrets Malfoy could have found out about somehow. Realizing how stupid it was to console himself with that, he shook his head and concentrated on which curse he would use first.
"Three."
Malfoy moved so fast Harry barely realized what was happening. He merely saw a yellow-and-black blur, and the next thing he knew, he was being set on fire. "Flamora!" Malfoy had yelled, using exaggerated wandwork as if to be sure he impressed anyone who dared look.
Harry was thrown back into the floor by the force of the spell, his robes blazing with fire. He could hear Malfoy's laughter ringing in his ears. His wand had fallen out of his hands as he fell, but lay only a few inches away from his hand. He grabbed it and pointed it to Malfoy, "Petrificus Totalus!" he yelled, immediately regretting doing so. He hadn't yet had a chance to extinguish the fire in his robes when Malfoy used the Protego Auctus shield. The spell hit the shield and shot straight at Harry, who blocked it as well, though not as easily.
"Deflammo" He muttered quickly, extinguishing the fire in his robes. His leg stung badly, hinting that he'd gotten burned there. He was vaguely embarrassed. How could Malfoy have improved this much in his dueling skills? Just last Christmas the git was at a third-year's level…it was amusing to fight him. Yes, from December to March a lot could change, but still...it was unnerving.
March…there was something important in March, wasn't there? Harry wondered to himself, thinking hard. Then it hit him. Ron's birthday…it was today! Harry wanted to kick himself; they may not be very close now, but he at least deserved a nice birthday wish. Oh, and a lovely gift I'm giving him, too…his girlfriend's fussing all over a bump on the head I got. Really, fantastic. Harry thought dully.
"Tarantallegra!" He hard Malfoy shout, his eyes gleaming maliciously.
But something in Harry's mind clicked. He moved his wand with a quick flourish, and casted the Protego Auctus shield, sending the spell right back at Malfoy. Draco, who had been under the impression that Harry was too distracted to retaliate, had been caught completely by surprise when his legs started moving about uncontrollably.
"Furnunculus!" Harry yelled quickly, overcome by the intense desire to get back at Malfoy. The spell hit Draco, and his face was instantly covered with horrible boils. Harry gingerly stepped towards him; his leg was very injured and was stinging very badly.
When he was about six feet away from Malfoy, Harry pointed his wand at the boy's legs and muttered, "Finite Incantateum." Malfoy stopped moving, but fell to the ground, panting and sweating.
"What is it that you know, Malfoy?" Harry said in a hiss that would have made Professor Snape proud.
"Alright, alright, Potter…" Malfoy muttered, wincing, "It's pretty stupid, you know. I'm amazed you'd ever…" He stopped abruptly, clutching his chest. He was apparently trying to catch his breath, but Harry insisted.
"Tell me!" Harry whispered urgently, pointing his wand at him threateningly, "Malfoy, you'd better speak up, or I swear I'll-"
"Relax, will you?" Malfoy said in a squeaky voice, "I just saw you and Granger snogging, in the library yesterday. I knew you were stupid Potter, but Granger? She's just a filthy little-"
"You'll regret that, Malfoy." Harry snapped, raising his wand once more.
"Expelliarmus!" Malfoy croaked, his wand poking out of his sleeve. Harry hadn't noticed it at all while they were talking, so he was caught unaware. He was thrown back about twenty feet, into someone else.
"Stop! Stop! Everybody, STOP!" Professor Lupin yelled loudly as he saw Harry fall. It was such a rare occurrence that he ever raised his voice, that everybody turned to face him with shocked looks. Grateful that he'd managed to get everyone to listen, he instructed all those that were not hurt to go to their seats immediately, while those who were hurt stayed where they were.
Harry rubbed his head, which had a slight bump on it. The cut he'd gotten with the door this morning had opened again and was now oozing fresh drops of blood, and as Professor Lupin rushed over and cured it magically, he wished Hermione had been the one to nurse him to health.
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Hermione saw Harry sitting in the Library in a table rather hidden from anyone who might be walking nearby. She walked casually towards a bookcase near the table, and slowly made her way towards him. She occasionally pulled out a few books and scanned them, but when she was certain no one was still looking at her, she quickly slipped into a seat beside him.
He looked up at her with a smile and reached towards her. He grasped for her hair, while she locked her arms around his neck. Harry sighed into her neck as they hugged…she smelled so sweet and wonderful. It was an odd sort of smell, and he couldn't place what it was. He only knew it smelled lovely.
Hermione pulled her head back and captured his mouth with her lips. For once, she wasn't worried about her dignity or her parents, or even about Ron. She just concentrated on the person before her, and how much she truly loved him.
Then, as abruptly as it began, the kissing stopped and they gazed at each other, reading one another's thoughts by merely looking at their eyes.
Harry was first to break the relaxing yet annoying silence, "Hermione, I need to warn you about something."
Hermione was fussing over his forehead, trying to make the cut less visible and less achy. At Harry's words, she frowned, "What is it?"
"It's Malfoy. He…err…knows about us." Harry said in a low voice.
Hermione sighed deeply, "Yes, I surmised so. During breakfast he was looking over at Ron and I with the most horrible glee. This whole thing obviously made him very glad."
"He saw us here yesterday...err…kissing." Harry said, blushing vaguely at this. Instantly, he felt like a dumb little girl, giggling over words like 'kissing' and 'couple'. He felt incredibly stupid, "But I don't think he's going to tell anyone."
"Harry, don't be so naïve." Hermione scoffed, shaking her head, "After that whole fiasco in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he'll want to get back at you."
"He can get back at me in loads of ways, Hermione." Harry said firmly, "Don't you realize that?"
"Oh, that's reassuring." Hermione said sarcastically, "And besides, this is the easiest way he knows to hurt you. He'll probably hint it to Ron and leave him to ruin it all up."
Harry edged closer to her and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder as he spoke once more, "Ron I can deal with…but Malfoy? Did you see him dueling me today?"
Hermione laughed considerably. By her tone when she spoke next, she'd probably been watching Harry and Malfoy duel, "Oh, Harry, that prat hasn't got any dueling skills. You were just distracted today. You have a lot on your mind now, you know." She said reassuringly. Her voice was very soft and barely audible.
Harry grinned and kissed her lips softly, "So, has Ron asked you to the ball yet?"
"Yes, just last night." Hermione said, snorting, "Oh, I knew I shouldn't laugh, but you should've seen his face, Harry! He looked like he was going to die of embarrassment!"
"He has reason to worry…" Harry muttered with a mischievous smile, tickling Hermione's ribs.
Hermione worked hard not to laugh, but she couldn't. She started giggling uncontrollably, trying to push Harry's hands away, and then let out a shriek of laughter. She gasped, and Harry let go of her quickly. They pulled a random book out of a bookshelf and placed it on the table in front of the in case Madam Pince came to investigate the source of the noise.
"But don't worry, Harry, we can meet…" Hermione said tentatively. He had suddenly fallen silent, and was frowning deeply.
"Seriously?" Harry asked as soon as she stopped talking. Hermione laughed quietly and nodded, "I think ten might be a good time, right?" She suggested.
Harry nodded, hugging her tightly, "It's excellent." He declared, and she smiled, burying her face into his chest. He played with her hair for a long time, until he'd almost forgotten where he was. He'd become entranced by her wonderful smell, and the light caresses she gave him on his back. When she moved to get up, he seemed to come out of a trance. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at the wristwatch in his hand.
It had only been thirty minutes.
A/N: There you go! Well, there's not much to say here…leave a review. I got 270 hits on the story, and only 7 reviews. What's up with that? I want to know what you think, seriously. Good or bad, feel free to let me know. That way, I can improve, or keep things the way they are. All you need to do is tell me what you think. =) I answer every single review, too, so you know I'm listening.