Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Chapter 3

Hermione lay on her bed quietly, staring at the ceiling. She just couldn't bring herself to understand why her dreams were changing. First it was the honeymoon dream. She had been having that dream for a long time; but, all of a sudden, it was changed from a rather smutty honeymoon morning to a meaningful love confession.

Now, last night, another regular dream had changed. Hermione was often worried about Harry's well-being; everyone was, really. Although, when the pressure got really bad, she always had the same dream. He would be flying, alone in the air, and she'd be the only one in the stands; and all of a sudden, he'd dive, and he wouldn't be able to recover. Harry would die because of a stupid Quidditch match that wasn't even really going on. He always died in the end.

"Then why on Earth did he live this time?" she asked aloud. "And where did the speech about the Snitch come from?"

Hermione slowly sat up. She quickly looked over at Ginny's empty bed. She was in the drawing room, playing Wizard's Chess with Ron; she had refused to laze around with Hermione in their bedroom. Hermione wanted so badly to tell her of what had gone on, but something inside of her was holding her back. "I should get over this," she told herself. "I'm doing absolutely nothing productive."

Ten minutes later, however, Hermione was still sprawled out on her bed. She couldn't get over the dream she had had that night; she always had become a little thoughtful after one of her Harry dieing dreams. This time, though, the fact that it had all been changed kept her more alert than usual.

Suddenly, Hermione heard a noise outside of her bedroom. It could have been anyone, because of the time of day and number of people residing in the house, but judging closely by the shuffling noises and sounds of creaking steps, she guessed she knew who it was and where they were going. Hermione bit her lip and turned to look out the window. She wanted so badly to follow him, but she knew he needed his privacy.

She brought her eyes down to look at the bedroom floor, where she saw something orange and green protruding from underneath her nightstand. She automatically had a flash of brilliance. It was an amazing idea: not only would it give her reason to go and bug Harry, but she knew he needed to have it just as much as she needed to give it.

Grabbing the ornately wrapped present from under her night table, Hermione walked out of the room and slipped through the door. Creeping down the hall, past the tapestry, and up the secret stairs, she came to a restful stop as the top of the steps. Quickly, she decided to wait there until he turned around and noticed her. If she had to interrupt him, at least she'd do it when he was half ready.

He was in the same position she had found him in the night before right down to the steaming mug. Standing still and staring out the window, Harry's shoulders seemed to sag in relaxation. He looked down towards the ground out of the large glass and slowly shook his head. Hermione bit her lip again - maybe now wasn't a good time...

Before the thought could be fully processed, however, Harry slowly turned around, looking at the cup in his hand. She clutched the gift to her chest, and the movement seemed to awake Harry to the outside world, as his head snapped up to meet her intent gaze.

He stopped walking, giving Hermione a half-smile.

Hermione returned the gesture. After a few lengthy moments, she cleared her throat. "I knew I would find you here." He frowned. "Don't worry, though," she continued hastily, "I won't tell anyone about your..." What should she call it? "...Getaway."

"Thank you," he said quietly. "But... What are you doing here?"

Right to the point, isn't he? "I came to bring you this," she said, as she brought the gift away from her chest and displayed it to him. "Your birthday present."

Harry looked at the gift quickly, then looked past Hermione with a stony expression. "I don't deserve gifts. Not this year." He tried to walk past her and down the stairs, but Hermione resolutely wouldn't let him. She knew why he was doing this - he regretted how he had acted the day they had all tried to celebrate his birthday, and he was feeling guilty.

She didn't care though; not right then. "Regardless of what you think," she started, stepping in front of him to head him off, "you do deserve them."

Harry detoured around Hermione, still walking but looking hesitant, as he didn't make eye contact with Hermione. "Will you at least take mine, because I think you need it instead?" she asked pleadingly.

He stopped on the top step. He didn't bother turning around, and with a slightly surprised tone, he asked, "I need it?"

Hermione walked towards him, present outstretched. "Please, just open it and I'll explain."

He turned around this time, and, looking into her eyes, he finally accepted the gift from her. "Alright."

Hermione couldn't help but smile as he took the gift from her and shook it a little, somewhat like a little child, overly excited on Christmas morning. A small smile crossed his lips as he looked from the gift to Hermione. "Why am I not surprised you got me a book?"

Hermione returned the smirk with one of her own. "Just open it," she said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

The wrapping paper quickly dropped to the ground as Harry tore it off. In his hands laid an exquisitely bound black book, with an imprinted golden Snitch. His hands trailed over the fancy quill attached to the leather book; the one that Hermione had picked out specially for him. For the book.

Hermione drew in a shaky breath when Harry didn't say anything. "It's a journal, Harry," she started. "It's your journal. I know how you don't like to talk when things really start to bother you. But Harry, if you won't talk to me or Ron, or even Ginny, please write it down in this journal. Your journal. That way you have an outlet for it all." Hermione walked over to stand beside him.

"And," she continued, "I've charmed it so you don't worry about privacy. It's kind of a cross between the Marauder's Map and Riddle's old diary; only those people who you want to share it with will be able to read it. But, it will only work if you use that quill," she finished, pointing to the quill she had attached to the journal.

Harry gave a small nod of his head. Slowly, he opened the front cover to reveal the first page. Hermione looked at his face nervously as he read what she had written there.

"I got the picture from Colin," she began to explain as she saw him look over the picture of her and him together underneath her inscription. "It's from our third year, after the final match against Slytherin." She paused as her own eyes scanned the picture: Harry's arm was around her, his free hand holding the straining Snitch. "You were so happy that you beat Malfoy and won the Cup when you caught--"

"--My Snitch," he whispered quickly.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. How could he know? Was that "my" that had escaped his lips just a slip of the tongue?

As Harry's fingers began to ghost across the image of her in the photo, though, Hermione quickly smiled and hugged Harry's arm in happiness. "Yes, Harry. Yes you did," she said just as quickly, hoping to the heavens that he would understand the hidden meaning.

He inclined his head to look at her. "Thanks, 'Mione. You were right; I do need this."

Hermione smiled even wider as she looked down at the floor to hide her pink cheeks. "Well then, I'll leave you alone, so you can get some writing done. See you," she said quietly. She rubbed his arm lightly before quickly exiting down the secret steps.

Hermione had to restrain herself from skipping back to the bedroom. That encounter could not have gone better. After the confrontation at his birthday party, she hadn't been sure she could ever look at another journal again, never mind actually give Harry the one she had stylized especially for him.

Closing the door behind her, she jumped slightly when she realized Ginny was sitting on her bed. The expression on her friend's face was extremely serious. "Where were you?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was instantly cut off by Ginny. "I leave you alone for half a minute, and you disappear!"

"For Merlin's sake, Gin, are you my keeper? I just went to see Harry!"

Ginny's expression turned instantly from anger to curiosity. "Oh! Well, in that case, do tell!"

Hermione turned towards her bed, mainly to not have to look at Ginny. What she had just experienced with Harry was special; there had been a connection made that hadn't been there before. He had admitted that he needed her help, and maybe a little bit more as well. "Erm... I'll tell you later, okay Ginny? It's just that I was about to write in my diary and..."

Ginny shrugged as she stood up abruptly and began walking towards the door. "Whatever you say, 'Mione."

"See you, Ginny," Hermione said, as she sat on her inviting bed and reached under the mattress. She was ready to write some things down too.

"But," Ginny said as she stood in the door frame, just before Hermione pulled out her diary, "if you don't want to tell me, that's all you have to say."

Hermione nodded in response, and waited until Ginny had full closed the door before she pulled her diary out from its hiding place. She loved Ginny to death, really. But there were some things, like where exactly Harry was always hiding, or what he sometimes confided in her on those rare occasions, or moments like they had just had, that she thought better of keeping it to herself.

As Hermione began writing, thoughts began to swirl around in her head. Had he known what he was saying when he had blurted out "my snitch"? It was such a huge coincidence that he used the exact same phrase as in the dream that it was almost to hard to ignore. And, even though Quidditch was his passion, and he could have very well been referring to the struggling golden ball in his hand, the tone of his voice just minutes ago told her otherwise.

Hermione smiled as her Muggle pen scratched across the ordinary diary. The picture in Harry's journal was her all-time favourite. It was during that Quidditch match, seeing the passion in his face as he flew around, watching his clever moves on his dangerous broomstick, and just the mere thought of him perhaps falling to his death in a fight with Malfoy that made her realize that she loved him. It had hit her hard; she sat down because her legs had given out. Ron had quickly looked back to see if she was okay, but before she had even been able to muster an answer, his attention was back to the game.

It was hard, admitting to herself that she was in love with her best friend. It's such a step up in the relationship, and one wrong move could change everything. But still, Hermione couldn't help but smile again at his possessive Snitch comment, because it was true - he had indeed caught his Snitch on that day. He had caught her.

Hermione paused for a moment, sucking on the end of her pen, before quickly commencing her scribbling.

I still don't understand how his slip of the tongue could have been a mere mistake or coincidence. It was such an important part of my dream last night, and it holds so much meaning. And furthermore, he's never referred to the school's Snitch as "his" before, anyway. So... how does this all make sense? I don't get it, and it's tearing me apart. He said it happily and with meaning, as though he knew what he was saying, too...

Maybe he did know what he was saying, and he said it on purpose. But how could that be? How could he know what had happened in my dream? Unless he was there, he wouldn't know, because I didn't even tell Ginny about it yet. But him being in my dream is impossible; it's not like he can read minds or see what's going on in my head or someth--

Hermione dropped her pen. It was a possibility that had never even crossed her mind. But was it probable? That was the question - Harry had never been too successful at it when he was properly concentrating on the concept; who was to say he was mastering it now? Hermione began to scribble on her paper again.

Last year, Harry began to learn the concepts behind Occlumency and Legilemency...But he never faired well with it. He kept entering Voldemort's head, who could, in turn, get into Harry's head. It all led to really, really terrible things. I really don't think concentrating on Occlumency is exactly what's on Harry's mind right now, though.

But what else could it be? The Snitch comment, the fact that he's slowly taking over my well-choreographed dreams... I've heard him move around at night just shortly after I myself have woken up, which kind of proves that we both wake up when the dream ends.

Hermione paused in her writing just as Ginny walked through the door once again. "Lunch is on the table," she said, looking from Hermione to the open diary. "You don't have to eat if you don't want to."

Hermione nodded her head. "No, no, I'll come, I'm famished. Just give me a minute."

Ginny nodded and closed the door. Hermione waited a couple seconds before finishing her entry in her diary.

If that is indeed the reason my dreams are changing, and he knows what's going on, I can't be anything less than elated that he feels the same way. Because he confessed his love more than once, didn't he? And he did it when he wasn't supposed to in the dreams, meaning it was actually him saying it.

This may just have an extraordinary effect on our relationship.

----

"Checkmate," Ginny cried satisfyingly, a victorious glint in her eyes. Hermione huffed and looked down at her defeated Chess pieces.

"You always win," Hermione muttered, clearing the board of her players.

Ron laughed from behind her. "Oh, stop being such a snot, Hermione. You lost for once, fair and square. Now, I was playing winner, wasn't I?"

Hermione walked over to the desk chair in the drawing room and sat there as Ron began to set up his own pieces where Hermione's had been. This wouldn't be any fun to watch; Ron was near impossible to beat at Wizard's Chess. It took a highly skilled player to beat him, and although Hermione loved her, Ginny wasn't one of those select few.

Harry walked in at that moment, closing the door behind him and walking towards the trio with a smile. "Sorry I'm late."

"You didn't miss much, mate," Ron said, not taking his eyes off of the board, "just Hermione getting squelched by Ginny."

Harry looked up at Hermione and gave her a crooked grin. She tried to return the smile, but felt as though she had no real control over her body anymore. Her cheeks went pink, her jaw was fairly slack, and her whole body was humming slightly. She turned away in hope that he wouldn't notice the obvious toll his smirk took on her.

Harry sat down beside Ron and began to watch the game. Hermione looked back at him. His hair was enticingly mussed up on the top of his head, his eyes were shining a bright green, and his outfit perfectly complimented his lean yet muscular body. He stretched upwards and his shirt rode up, giving Hermione a small glimpse at the fine trail of hair leading into his trousers.

Hermione felt slightly faint. She knew her face was flushed, she could feel the heat radiating around her head, and she knew she was overtly staring at Harry. If he were to look up right now, he would know exactly what was going through her head. Although, at this point in time, she wasn't sure that would be a bad thing. Smirking to herself at all the naughty things she wanted to do to him, she shook her head and looked back at him. She was surprised to see him looking right at her. She met his gaze, and didn't look away until he did a few long moments later.

----

The slightly aroused state Hermione had been in didn't dissipate throughout the entire day - if anything, it only intensified. Any time she had managed to steal a glance at Harry, he was smiling, or smirking, or looking thoughtful; all of which Hermione found extremely attractive, and her body reacted accordingly.

She had always found him extremely fetching, of course: it was a fact of life that Harry Potter was very good-looking. But his looks had never taken such an immediately toll on Hermione's body like they had been that day. Perhaps he himself was in a mood of his own, and subconsciously she was reacting to it? Or, maybe her body had simply chosen that day to take everything in a sexual manner - every teenager did have those days, after all.

Hermione leaned away from both of those theories, though. Being the smart girl she was, she could admit her own feelings to herself, whether they were ridiculous or not. She was quite sure that the idea of Harry being in her dreams and responding to them just as she did was an immense morale booster for her. When she thought about it, Harry could very well feel the same way for her as she did for him, if her dreams were any indication. The idea that he wouldn't necessarily refuse if she so chose to jump on him at any given time had Hermione contemplating doing just that.

Ginny noticed Hermione's peculiar mood as well. During dinner, when everyone was seated at the dinner table in the kitchen and the conversation was particularly loud, she had leaned over to Hermione. "So, what has you in such a weird state, 'Mione?" she muttered.

Hermione looked aghast, turning her head so quickly to face Ginny that she was afraid of it flying off. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.

She must have sounded anything but that, however, as a mischievous expression crossed Ginny's face. "So you do know what I mean, then? Out with it, Herm! What has you in this crazy mood?"

"It's not crazy," Hermione hissed, quickly looking around to assure no one was taking in their exchange. "Everyone has these days, don't they?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, yes they do. What has caused yours?"

"Goodness, Ginny, you just won't stop," Hermione muttered, exasperated.

"Does it have anything to do with the fact that Harry looks extremely fit today?"

A blush started to rise in her cheeks as Hermione looked over at Harry, who was currently laughing at a joke Ron told. "Perhaps."

Ginny looked back down at her food, chuckling. "That's what I thought. The electricity in the air is so thick it's almost dangerous."

Hermione bit her lip as she watched Harry scoop some more shepherd's pie onto his plate, her body humming once again. "Don't put those hopeful thoughts into my head, Gin."

"Whatever you say, Hermione. Just try not to make yourself so obvious next time you have one of these 'days'. Your eyes have been a shade close to black all afternoon," she said, before turning to Tonks beside her.

----

Hermione seemed to wake up again, except around her was a completely different setting. She pushed herself out of the covers, and a broad smile stretched across her face as she saw exactly how she appeared: it was her own naked body, save for a pair of knickers. The underwear was a deep shade of green, which complimented her skin tone amazingly. Usually Hermione never even noticed the colour of the cloth she wore.

Spreading herself out on top of the comforter, she trailed one of her hands slowly down her body, while the other took one of her breasts fully into her palm. Her back arched as her trailing hand came into contact with a golden, vibrating sphere near the crotch of her green panties. She began to moan quietly at what she was doing to herself. She threw her head back, quickening her movements as her thumb rubbed her nipple.

As if on cue, Hermione opened her eyes to see Harry staring at her from the open door, an immensely aroused look on his face. Smiling coyly, she removed her hands from their places so she could lean on them, bent behind her shoulders. She slowly looked him up and down, and couldn't help but stare openly at his blooming erection. Holding in a slight purr of appreciation, she pulled herself up to crawl towards him on the bed, licking her lips in anticipation.

"Come here, Harry," she said in a light and husky tone. She refused to break eye contact with him, meeting him stare-for-stare. Slowly, he made his way over to the bed, waddling slightly.

When he was finally close enough, Hermione stood tall on her knees, latching her hands around the back of Harry's neck. Disregarding any preamble, she brought his mouth quickly to hers, pulling him into an immediately passionate kiss. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, licking at his own tongue and intertwining hers with his.

Harry's hands began to roam freely, making their way up and down her back, and temporarily resting on her butt. He was hard against her hip, which only drove her to need to feel more of him against her. She placed her hands along his shoulder blades, and moved her fingers in tiny circles. Slowly her fingers migrated towards the small of his back, where the massaging intensified. He groaned quietly into their kiss, and he pulled her closer. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and it sent dizzying sensations throughout Hermione's body.

Harry growled as his lips left hers and quickly attached themselves to her earlobe. She moaned loudly as he nibbled gently before suckling on it, an action that he knew very well turned her on like no other. His lips then left her ear and began to trail down her neck, and he would occasionally flicker his tongue against her skin. Hermione quickly ran her hands through his hair, giving it a gentle tug whenever he did something appreciated.

Harry slowly pushed her back onto the bed and layered his body on top of hers. Hands and lips were everywhere as they explored each other thoroughly. Both her and his sounds rang in the air as they both began to crave more of each other - a feeling that couldn't be sated with their current actions alone.

Hermione waited, and sure enough, Harry repositioned himself to slip her panties off of her. She lifted her hips to help him, and he teasingly trailed his fingers along her skin as he tore the fabric from her. He bent to kiss her just above where she craved his touch. She shivered in anticipation, taking her hands from his hair and wrapping them in the silken bed sheets. She whimpered as he ran his hands up and down her legs before slowly pulling them apart. She closed her eyes when she felt him kissing her inner thighs lightly, slowly making their way to where she was waiting.

Hermione groaned when she felt his lips leave her completely. As she was about to open her eyes to see what he was doing, she suddenly felt his tongue rub against her, and she gasped in appreciative surprise. He moved his tongue and lips anywhere he wanted, building her up to a frenzied state. She tried to remain still but it was no use, and soon she felt herself buck up slightly, quivering in delight as her cries filled the room.

All of a sudden, with a particular intimate kiss of his along her sensitive nub, she cried out in ultimate happiness, shaking on the bed and raking her nails along Harry's back. She felt him licking and kissing still, and quickly, she began to feel the need for more than just his mouth.

Grabbing his arms, she pulled him up so they were eye-to-eye. Lust filled her body, and it only intensified by the darkened pools of green that were Harry's eyes. He looked at her with a look of longing that matched what she felt. His eyes were filled with longing and anticipation... Anticipation of... a capture?

The Snitch. "Harry," she breathed with a voice even more throaty than before, "Take me. I'm within your grasp; just reach out and take me."

With a look of understanding, Harry pulled back his hips to rip off his own boxers, a delightful broom patterned pair, before quickly laying back on top of her. Hermione latched her fingers into his hair as he positioned himself between her legs. She felt his manhood brush against her wet sex, and she quickly released a moan of longing.

That seemed to be all Harry needed as he smoothly slid inside of her. Hermione arched her back and threw her head behind her - finally, she felt fulfilled. He began to thrust within her, and she matched him each time, wanting this so badly. She moaned his name loudly, which only seemed to spur him on even more as his movements became faster and harder.

Hermione felt herself building up towards that wonderful edge for the second time. She bit her lip to keep in all the shouts and praises that were trying to worm their way out as she began to thrust against him just as hard as he was against her. Just a little further... Hermione heard Harry gasp, and it was all she needed. Her cries filled the air and she began to convulse slightly on the bed. She felt Harry let go as well, and soon his moans were as loud as hers.

He collapsed against her chest, breathing heavily. Hermione was panting, trying to bring her heart back to a steady pace. She ran a hand along Harry's back, finally coming to a stop in his hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

"Wow," he breathed. Hermione looked up at him to see a slight look of surprise in his eyes.

Hermione grinned. Holding on to his back once again, she flipped them both over so she was straddling his hips. She looked at him lovingly for a few joyous moments before she bent down towards him slightly. When she was sure it was the last thing he was expecting, she slapped his shoulder lightly before beginning to climb off of him. "Tag, you're it!" she cried childishly. She ran to the other side of the room, where she stopped and turned around to see Harry looking at her, more dumbstruck than ever.

"Come catch me," she whispered, before turning and running away some more.