Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, Harry Potter and the entire magical Hogwarts world are still not mine. Rats. Perhaps in another dimension or parallel universe they could belong to me? In this one, however, J K Rowling still holds that honour.
Author's Note: First of all, let me thank Tennant Stuart for helping me with my computer problems. Tennant, part of this chapter is for you (you know which part *smiles*).
Secondly, for those of you who wondered if the "Hormone"s in the preceding chapter were due to author error or a Freudian slip . . . well let's just say I was having a hard time with my WordXP. Every time I typed "Hermione," my computer would self-correct the word to "Hormone." ARGHHHH! I'd go back and fix the problem and the next time I called up the document-those darn "Hormone"s were back. LOL! Unfortunately my "search/replace" feature wasn't working either. Thanks to Tennant's help, the only hormones you'll find in this chapter are the ones which are implied!
Disclaimer: Read at your own risk. The author takes no responsibility for hormone surges or dental decay incurred by the reader.
HELPING NEVILLE
Chapter 9
"What's going on, Ginny?"
Ginny proceeded to tell Harry and Susan the entire story: how thanks to Ron's tactlessness, Hermione had gotten upset and lied to Harry and Ron about having a date for the Valentine's Ball.
"She lied to me?" Harry asked in disbelief.
"Come on, Harry; don't take it personally," Ginny advised. "Think about it-what would you have said if either Hermione or Ron had told you that a girl was going to ask you on a date purely out of desperation or because she didn't want to go with 'someone she liked'? And actually, Hermione was invited to the Valentine's Ball by a couple of different wizards, but she said 'no' to each one, because . . . well, let's just say she said 'no' and leave it at that."
"And that night, when Hermione was crying in the common room, what was that all about?"
Ginny chuckled.
Harry glared at her. "What? I was worried!"
Ginny chuckled again; sometimes Harry was just too predictable. Growing up with six brothers, Ginny was hard to dupe.
"Come on, Gin!" Harry whined.
"That, my dear Harry," Ginny grinned, "was about guilt."
"Guilt?" chorused Harry and Susan.
Ginny nodded, but refused to say anything more.
"I think I'd better explain that part," Neville interjected, carefully placing a tray of butterbeers on the table.
"Are you sure?" Ginny asked doubtfully.
"Yes. It's partly my fault that things got into such a mess in the first place."
"Neville, none of this is your fault," protested Ginny.
"Not directly, maybe," said Neville, blushing. "Nevertheless, if Hermione hadn't been trying to help me . . ."
And Neville went on to explain the goings-on of the previous month.
"So what you're saying," said Harry with an incredulous grin, "is that Hermione was crying and carrying on that night because she thought she had failed you?"
Neville nodded. "That's why she was waving that piece of parchment around. It contained her list of 'candidates,' " Neville flushed again, "and--you know how she is Harry. Hermione can be very determined when she sets her mind on achieving a particular goal and . . ."
Ginny snorted.
"But only because she cares so much and . . . you know, Harry," Neville said earnestly.
"Yeah, I do. That's Hermione for you. When she cares about someone, she . . . well, she just goes all out." The admiration in Harry voice left no one in doubt of his feelings.
"And where exactly do I fit into all this?" Susan inquired quietly.
Ginny smiled. "That, my dear, is where the brilliance of this entire production comes into play. Or should I say, ahem, my brilliance?" Ginny gave a little bow and grinned self-mockingly.
"When I spoke with Hermione and Neville that night and she told me about the mess that my darling, tactful brother had gotten her into, I thought of the perfect solution right away. You see," she continued, looking directly at Susan, "I heard that Harry had asked you to be his date . . ."
"The whole of Gryffindor heard," Harry inserted dryly.
". . . and I happened to know of a Ravenclaw wizard-serious and sometimes stuffy," this was said with a tiny moue of apology towards Susan, "but with a good heart-who had a crush on a certain young Hufflepuff." Ginny beamed at Susan and Harry.
"You mean . . .?" Susan asked hesitantly.
"Yes. Michael Corner has fancied you for the past while," Ginny told her matter-of-factly. "It's one of the reasons we broke up, again, after the Christmas hols."
"Oh," gasped Susan in shock. "Oh, Ginny, I'm sorry! I . . ."
"I'm not," Ginny stated flatly. "I said it was one of the reasons we broke up. We drove each other mad you know, always bickering and quarrelling; besides, I rather had my eye on someone else myself." And she winked at Neville, who once again flushed a fiery red.
"Anyway," she repeated, "Michael fancied you and I knew that Harry, here," Harry received a wink, "fancied Hermione, and so all I had to do was grab hold of Michael before he asked someone else out and. . ."
". . . arrange for him to escort Hermione, thinking that we'd somehow manage a switch, at least for a dance. Isn't she clever?" Neville beamed at Ginny.
Susan and Harry looked rather stunned. Then slowly, identical happy expressions blossomed over both faces as the meaning of what they'd just heard began to sink in.
"What should we do now?" asked Harry.
"If you need me to tell you that," Ginny scoffed, "then you're even more hopeless than Ron. For heaven's sake, Harry, ask the girl for a dance and let her know how you feel-how you really feel," she added, with a significant look. Harry's panicked expression made her smile.
"As for you," she said, turning to Neville and poking him in the chest, "you need to dance with Hermione so that I can talk to Michael and fill him in on," she paused and grinned at Susan, "you."
* * * * *
When Hermione and Michael returned a couple of minutes later, Hermione sensed a change in the atmosphere; she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something was . . . off.
Surveying the others at the table, nothing was obviously out of the ordinary. She saw that Neville and Ginny were talking quietly and turned her attention to the couple sitting across from her. Harry was grinning and examining his hands, while Susan was smiling softly to herself. What was going on? Her eyes went back to Harry, who seemed positively fascinated with his left thumb-nail. Hermione frowned. She could sense something, but what?
"Hermione, would you like to dance?"
Hermione turned to see Neville standing at her elbow, a hopeful expression on his good-natured countenance.
"Um, sure, all right," she said hesitantly. "I was going to sit this one out, but . . ." Neville remained standing there, his hand extended in invitation. "Okay. Will you excuse me?" she asked Michael.
"Of course," he said, "if you would do me the honour?" And he smiled across the table at Susan.
"Oh, she's already promised this dance to Harry," Ginny blurted out. "Right Susan?"
"Oh . . . er . . . right," said Susan hesitantly.
Michael tried to mask his disappointment.
Noticing the gleam in Ginny's eye, Susan hastened to add, "I mean . . . um . . . yes! I did promise this one to Harry."
Before Michael could say another word, Ginny piped up. "I'll dance with you Michael."
Harry felt someone kick him in the shins, startling him out of his brown study and bringing him back to reality.
"Let's go then," Ginny insisted, seizing Harry by the elbow and hoisting him up. "Come on Harry! Susan's ready for that dance you promised her."
"Er . . ." Harry found himself on his feet and out on the dance floor with Susan before he quite knew what hit him. Rubbing briefly at his sore elbow, he ruefully remembered Ron's earlier remark: Ginny really did have a remarkably strong grip for such a small witch. Her kick wasn't bad either-she'd have made a fair football player. Letting go of the injured elbow, he placed his right hand around Susan's waist and clasped her right hand in his left, making an effort to shuffle in rhythm to the music. Fortunately for Harry, Susan's dancing skills were better than his.
Harry took a quick survey of the dance floor and caught a glimpse of Hermione and Neville to his left. Hermione was talking a mile a minute, while Neville nodded in agreement, his cheeks flushed pink. Ginny and Michael were nowhere to be seen, lost in the sea of dancers.
'I wonder when I'll get to dance with Hermione,' Harry thought to himself. 'Should I cut in on Hermione and Neville? No, that'd be rude. Maybe Michael will come over to Susan and me? Ginny's certainly capable of steering-dragging--him over here.' Harry chuckled to himself. 'She really is a lot like her mum, in a scary sort of way. Add about three stone in weight and thirty-odd years and you'd have Mrs. Weasley. Poor Ron-he doesn't stand a chance with a sister like Ginny. Or maybe with six older brothers she's had to become forceful in self-defense.' Just then, Harry felt his foot land on something soft.
"Ouch!" yelped Susan, stumbling slightly. "Harry!"
"Oh, s-sorry," Harry stammered, mortified. "Are you all right?"
"I'll be fine; luckily I've got another foot," Susan said dryly. "Feeling a little distracted there, are we Mr. Potter?"
Harry flushed. "Yeah, just a bit. I'm not much of a dancer. Er . . . but I guess you've already noticed that, eh?"
Fortunately, they managed to finish the dance without further damage to either Susan's appendages or Harry's self-respect. To Harry's relief, the song was a short one.
"Would you like to go back to the table?" Harry asked as the last notes faded away.
Susan chuckled to herself at the hopeful expression on Harry's face and nodded. The two friends headed back to the table, running into Michael and Ginny a moment later.
"I'm going to sit this one out," Ginny said. "Hey Michael, Neville and Hermione aren't back yet. Why don't you take Susan out for a spin? Harry looks knackered." Before Ginny could finish her sentence, Michael had seized a blushing Susan by the hand and vanished into the crowd.
Harry collapsed onto a chair and swept his fringe off his face with a trembling hand.
"Wasn't that bad, was it?" Ginny asked with an impish grin. "Susan was still walking on her own steam, so you mustn't have quite crippled her."
"Ha-ha," said Harry sarcastically. "Very funny. After one dance with me, Hermione'll probably run screaming from the room." He hesitated, "Ginny?"
"Ummm?"
"Are you sure that Hermione, that she . . . you know . . . that she . . . erm . . . fancies me?"
"Maybe you should ask her that yourself, Harry," Ginny smirked. "She and Neville are heading over here as we speak."
Harry gulped and swallowed convulsively. Sure enough, a few seconds later Hermione had taken the chair next to his.
"Harry, are you all right?"
Harry raised his head to find Hermione's warm brown eyes fixed on him.
"Erm . . ."
"You're really flushed," she noted. Frowning in concern, she stretched out a hand to touch his forehead.
"I'm fine," he managed, jerking away from her.
Hermione looked a little hurt at this and lowered her head. Picking up her serviette, she fiddled with it and bit her lip.
No! Not the lip-biting! What was it with Hermione and the lip-biting? Harry had an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and . . .
"He's just a little stressed-out," Ginny offered bluntly. "You know how he is about dancing."
"Oh, right," Hermione's face cleared. "Of course. That always gets him in such a tizzy."
"Hello?" Harry muttered irritably. "I can hear you, you know."
"Uh, Ginny," Neville offered, giving Harry a sympathetic look. "Would you like to dance now?"
"Sure," Ginny said agreeably. "Think you can handle it from here, Harry?"
Seeing his petulant frown, Ginny grinned and took hold of Neville's arm.
"Oh, and Harry," she added as she and Neville turned to leave, "did I ever tell you how cute you are when you're cross?"
Harry glowered at Ginny's retreating back.
"What's going on, Harry?" asked Hermione, puzzled.
"Nothing," he grunted shortly. "Ginny likes taking the mickey out of me."
Silence.
Harry could feel Hermione's eyes boring into him. His face was burning and he mentally cursed the sweet little old witch at Gladrags who'd sold him his new dress robes and shirt. The blasted collar was choking him again.
He risked a quick peek at Hermione. She was doing it again! He didn't know what it was about that lip of hers that drove him crazy. Was it the fullness of it? Or was it the contrast between white teeth and red mouth? Either way, Hermione certainly seemed to enjoy the habit, since she constantly. . ."
"Harry?"
"Huh?"
"Do I have something on my teeth?" Hermione asked worriedly, picking up a spoon and peering anxiously at her reflection.
"Uh, no. I mean, I don't think so," managed Harry.
"Oh. I just wondered because you were staring at my mouth and I thought that maybe . . ."
"Hermione," Harry interrupted, "doyouwannadance?"
"Sorry?" asked Hermione, putting down the spoon.
"I said," Harry repeated, coughing and trying desperately to speak in a normal tone of voice, "Do you want to dance?"
Hermione stared at him.
"Er," he said hesitantly, "if you don't want to. . ."
"No, of course I . . . yes . . . all right," Hermione stammered.
Harry's chair screeched as he rose to his feet, startling him. Clearing his throat, he gestured toward the dance floor. "Um . . . well . . ."
Hermione's cheeks seemed pinker than normal as she followed Harry to the centre of the floor. Her stomach was clenching and unclenching painfully and she made what she hoped was an imperceptible effort to stop her legs and hands from shaking. Just then, Harry stopped and turned to her.
"I'm not a very good dancer," he said apologetically. "But you know that already," he chuckled nervously.
Hermione smiled, feeling some of her nerves wash away.
"It's okay," she said gently. "It's just me, Harry."
"I know." Harry's voice was slightly husky. Furtively wiping his sweaty palms on his robe, he reached out and tentatively took hold of Hermione's hand, his other arm going around her waist. Just then he noticed Ron and Luna dancing only a couple of feet away. Luna was smiling dreamily, while Ron was craning his neck and scowling fiercely.
"What's the matter with him?" Harry asked Hermione, indicating their mutual best friend.
Hermione swung around to look. Then she giggled.
Harry followed Hermione's gaze.
Ginny and Neville were dancing about five feet to Ron's left. They were obviously deep in conversation and both had silly smiles on their faces.
Then, as Harry watched in awe, Neville let go of Ginny's hand and slowly, apprehensively, put both his arms around her waist. Almost simultaneously, Ginny wrapped her arms around Neville's neck and closed her eyes.
Harry's eyes widened. Was Ginny blushing?
From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron lunge at the entranced couple, only to be pulled back by a suddenly alert Luna. When Ron scowled at her, Luna glared in a most un-Lunalike fashion and yanked at him again.
Harry's eyes met Hermione's in shared amusement, then they turned to watch their over-protective friend being led, none too gently, away from his sister and Neville and towards the refreshment table.
"Well," Hermione giggled, "it appears as if there's more to Ms. Luna Lovegood than I thought! If I had tried that, you'd have heard Ron's shouts of protest all the way to Gryffindor Tower!"
Harry chucked and nodded. "Do you think Neville knows how close he came to death?"
"I don't know. I think he and Ginny are a bit too preoccupied to notice right now." Hermione nodded in the direction of the couple, who were looking into each other's eyes and appeared to be almost rubbing noses. Then Ginny tucked her head under Neville's chin as he pulled her even closer, both of them lost to the outside world.
Hermione beamed proudly at them.
While she was thus preoccupied, Harry took the opportunity to savour the sparkling cinnamon eyes and glowing cheeks of the girl in his arms. Suddenly he wished he and Hermione were not dancing the standard "arms-length" away from each other and that he had the nerve to do what Neville had just done. Harry's eyes wandered down to her waist and he pictured himself holding her tightly, her eyes closing and her neck exposed. He would love to nibble . . .
"Just one kiss? Please?" Hermione's voice brought Harry abruptly back to reality.
"Eh? What?" Harry goggled at her in shock.
"Oh, Harry. I'm so happy!"
Hermione certainly sounded happy, and her eyes were glistening with tears of joy, but she wasn't looking at Harry. No she wasn't. Hermione's blissful gaze was fixed on Neville and Ginny, who were engaging in what appeared to be a kiss in plain view of the entire ballroom.
Hermione give a series of little jumps, making tiny squeaking sounds. Her expression was that of a doting mother as Neville and Ginny came to their senses and practically ran for the shelter of the many trees lining the edges of the enchanted Great Hall. Harry couldn't help smiling at her obvious excitement.
"Wow Hermione! I don't think I've ever heard you make those kinds of noises before," he teased.
"Shut up, Harry!" she said, tipping her laughing face up to his and smacking him on the shoulder. Cinnamon-brown met emerald-green.
Hermione's smile faded away under Harry's intent gaze. "H-harry?" she asked.
Harry thought to himself that if she bit that bloody lip one more time he couldn't be held accountable for his actions. Instead, she held his gaze, her own wide and unsure.
"Uhhh . . ." Harry swallowed convulsively. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears and resisted the urge to wipe his palms on his robes again. Faintly, as if from very far away, he could hear the music slowing down and then stopping completely. Still he stood there, drawn into Hermione's eyes.
Slowly, gradually, Harry became aware that Hermione was speaking. He dropped his eyes to her lips and tried to focus: her mouth, her beautiful generous mouth, was moving up and down, back and forth. Cold, his hands were cold-Hermione had removed her hand from his and pulled away. He shook his head to clear it and her words took form.
". . . if you want?"
"Want?" he repeated stupidly.
"Harry? Are you all right?" Hermione asked, concerned. "You're acting a bit odd. I said that we can sit down for a while if you want."
No, Harry definitely did not want to sit down. He wanted Hermione back in his arms, and he wanted her there right now.
"Okay. No--wait," he caught at her arm. "Why don't we go for a walk . . . maybe get some fresh air." Merlin knew he could use some.
"All right," Hermione agreed slowly. Without another word, she tucked her hand into the crook of Harry's arm and walked with him out of the ballroom. They spend the next few minutes quietly wandering the deserted corridors of the castle, until Hermione broke the silence.
"Did you want to go anywhere in particular?"
"No, not really. I just wanted to . . . walk with you for a while. Is that all right?"
"Of course it's all right," was the response. "Although I'm sure Susan and Michael must be wondering where we've gotten to."
"I don't think we need to worry about them," said Harry. "Ginny and Neville filled me in on . . . things."
"Oh."
Glancing over at Hermione, Harry was alarmed to see that she was frowning. "Maybe we'd better get back anyway." She removed her hand from his arm.
"Um . . . if you want."
Maybe Susan and Ginny had it all wrong, Harry thought in disappointment, as they made their way back to the Great Hall. Obviously Hermione was not all that eager to spend time alone with him. Maybe she had agreed to go to the dance with Michael because she fancied the stuffy Ravenclaw! Ginny never actually said that she had told Hermione about Michael's crush on Susan. This was a horrible thought. How could he find out the truth without making a fool of himself?
"Er . . . so, Hermione, Michael seems like a nice person," Harry said, in what he hoped was a casual tone.
"Yes, he is."
She didn't sound terribly enthusiastic, Harry noted hopefully. He blundered on.
"A Ravenclaw too; I'll bet you have a lot in common."
"No, not that much," Hermione's tone was flat. "He's a bit too proper for my liking."
"But he's smart, isn't he? Probably loves books almost as much as you do," persisted Harry.
Hermione stopped suddenly and swung around to face him. "What are you trying to say, Harry? That I'm a stuffy book-worm and should stick with my own kind?"
"NO!" Harry said hastily. Uh-oh! She sounded irate. "That's not what I meant. You know I'm not good with words, Hermione."
She didn't say anything, but started walking very quickly, head down and arms folded. Harry trotted after her, mentally kicking himself for making a muck of it again. He chanced a quick look and almost groaned out loud. She was at it again! Did she have a fetish for the bloody thing? He couldn't take it anymore.
"Hermione, you're biting your lip."
"Pardon?"
Harry was not to be deterred. "Your lip. You're biting it."
She kept her head down and increased her pace, but didn't stop biting.
Reaching out, he caught hold of her arm.
"Hermione?"
She just stood there, arms folded, still biting that bloody lip of hers.
"Hermione, I know about Neville."
She raised her head and Harry could see that her eyes were very bright, as if she were holding back tears.
"That was a really nice thing you did for him, you know. But then again, I'm not surprised: you're always doing things like that for people."
A little smile played around the corners of her poor ravaged lips. Harry watched in fascination as a small pink tongue poked out to wet them and then the white teeth bit down again. The urge was back and this time Harry didn't resist-he slowly raised his hand and gently ran his thumb along the bottom of her lip, which started to tremble.
"H-harry, w-what are you d-doing?" Hermione voice came out as a squeak.
Harry didn't say a word, but just kept running his thumb back and forth, back and forth, never taking his eyes off of her mouth.
"I've always wanted to do this," he told her softly. "Every time I see you . . . do you know how often you do it? Whenever you're deep into a book, or when you're upset, or when you're worried about something or someone . . ." his voice trailed off and he tipped her chin up, compelling her to look him in the eye. Hermione appeared confused and . . . something else. Harry was finding it difficult to talk or even breath.
"Hermione, do you like Michael Corner?" he blurted out suddenly. "What I mean is do you like him?"
"I know what you mean, Harry. I like Michael okay, but I certainly don't fancy him. How could I when . . ." her voice trailed off.
"When . . ." he prompted, his heart thumping madly. He reached down, caught hold of her hands and gave a little tug. She made a sound that was half laugh, half slightly hysterical hiccup.
"When I . . . when . . ." she whispered. She looked at him shyly.
"Really?" Was she saying . . . ?
She nodded. "Of course, Harry."
"Me too," he said softly.
Later on, neither Harry nor Hermione could say who leaned forward first, but suddenly they were standing much closer together. She caught a faint trace of his aftershave before his hands dropped hers and began to make their way up her arms to her elbows. He tugged her towards him until he could smell her fragrant hair and feel the pliable curves of her body pressing against his.
The kiss, when it happened, was nothing more than a whisper-the softest touch of lip upon lip.
Afterwards they remained standing, each overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensations crashing through them. Harry's forehead rested on top of Hermione's curls and they were both breathing hard, eyes closed, lips curled into identical smiles. Then,
"Harry?"
"Mmmm?"
"Do you think that we could . . . um . . . I mean, would you mind if we tried that again? I've always read that when . . ."
Harry chuckled; Hermione looked shocked and pulled away.
"Honestly, Harry. There's no need to laugh at me; I'm quite serious."
"I know you are. But honestly, Hermione," he grinned teasingly, "trust you to think about books at a time like this."
"I don't see how that's so terrible! I believe in being prepared and well," she sputtered indignantly, "it's better to . . ."
Harry put a finger to her mouth, halting her in mid-rant.
"You're cute when you're flustered."
Her eyes widened. "I'm cute?" she repeated dumbly.
Harry nodded, blushing. "You're also thoughtful, and kind, and brave, and really, really, pretty . . ."
Harry's words were cut off by the vast quantity of hair obscuring his mouth as Hermione flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She was making those funny little squeaking sounds again. Probably biting her lip again too, he thought distractedly.
Well that did it. Harry might be the most powerful young wizard in the world, but he was, after all, first and foremost a seventeen-year-old boy. And the girl he fancied above all others had just jumped into his arms and appeared content to stay there.
"Hermione!"
He sounded rather desperate as he gave her a little shake. Then, unable to stop himself, he began raining little kisses everywhere he could reach-her hair, her ear . . . when she didn't hex him or slap him, he brushed aside her long curls to reach a soft spot near the side of her neck, his hands shaking with long-suppressed emotion. At some point after the assault on her neck, Hermione's lips found his and his hands made their way around her waist. Somehow they both knew to relax their lips as tongues began a gentle and mutual exploration. Hermione moaned softly at the taste of Harry's mouth, while Harry felt the blood rush from his brain.
When they finally broke for air, Hermione was pressed against the cold stone wall of the castle, errant ringlets tumbling out of her upswept ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed a brilliant rose, her glazed eyes half-obscured by drooping lids. Harry was breathing so rapidly that he was almost hyper-ventilating; the exhilaration he felt, akin to executing a death-defying dive on his Firebolt.
"Well," said Hermione breathlessly.
"Well," agreed Harry.
Feeling her warm breath on his neck and her warm body close to his, for the first time in his young tortured life, Harry allowed himself to truly believe that he could-that he would-survive this war.
One day he would tell her. One day. For now, just knowing was enough.
~*~
FIN
~*~
Author's Note: Well, they finally got down to business, didn't they? I hope you enjoyed my little story, although if you've had half as good a time reading this as I've had writing it, then I've done my job. Thanks again for sticking with me, and since I hate to say goodbye, I'll just say "adieu" until next time!
Kirsti