Hermione woke the next morning on the bed in her dormitory with a quilt pulled up around her shoulders. She brushed a few curls from her face and looked around the room, reaching around briefly to scratch Crookshanks.
How did I get up here? The last thing I remember is talking with Harry in the common room. Surely he couldn't have brought me up here? The stairs wouldn't have let him.
Mmmmm such wonderful dreams of Harry.
She still felt the after effects of the dream on her panties. She was getting more and more used to these kinds of dreams. When they had started she was terribly mortified that someone would find out.
She shrugged off the quilt and stood up stretching, she began rummaging for some fresh clothes before heading off to the bathrooms.
After her shower she headed off for the Great Hall. She wasn't exactly sure how late it was. Luckily, it was Saturday so the only thing she'd missed out on so far was a good early morning study session alone in her room.
To her surprise, the Great Hall was practically empty! Where is everyone? Do they all know something that I don't? Then it hit her; Quidditch! How could she have forgotten! The last match of the season and the first one that Harry had actually gotten to play in all year!
Grabbing some bits of toast on her way through, Hermione rushed across the Great Hall, into the Entrance Hall and through the front doors out into the surprisingly dark June afternoon. By the time she reached the Quidditch pitch she was nursing a stitch in her side. She made it all the way up to sit amongst her fellow Gryffindors and munch quickly on her rumpled toast in time to glimpse Harry shooting over their heads. Suddenly she dropped the toast to her feet…
I swear he winked at me!
An instant later Harry's fingers had wrapped around the snitch. "Gryffindor wins!" came Lee Jordan's voice from somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind, though he had left Hogwarts two years earlier. Harry wins, chimed in her heart.
Later she found herself sitting yet again under the beech tree beside the lake. She clasped her arms around her knees as she watched Harry skip rocks across the tranquil surface. He was still wearing his Quidditch robes and she couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes away from him as he spoke animatedly to her about the game.
"…don't you think so? Hermione?"
"Of course…mmm hmm," she squeaked as she refocused her eyes, shaking her head slightly.
"You alright? You haven't heard a word I've said have you?" he said with a crooked grin.
"Sure I have," she said defiantly. He raised his eyebrows, continuing to smile mischievously. "Well, maybe…not all of it," she whispered with a blush. He abruptly rushed at her and pushed her onto her back, falling onto her and tickling her with all of his might. She wriggled with laughter and tried her best to squirm her way from underneath him. This only made him tickle her more enthusiastically until tears streamed from her eyes and she didn't think she'd be able to breathe anymore…
He rolled off of her, shaking with laughter and she lay spent on the grass beside to him gasping for air.
"…N-not…funny…Harry!" she breathed. Laughing harder, he rolled toward her and placed his fingers on the side of her face, pushing a few escaped tendrils of hair from her forehead. Gradually, the laugher subsided. He lay beside her with his elbow propped up, resting his face in his hand. The way he was looking at her made butterflies begin to dance around her stomach. His hand slid from her hair and cupped her cheek gently, "You really are beautiful, you know…"
Before Hermione could blurt out some self-effacing retort, Harry leaned forward and lightly captured her lips with his. It was nothing fiery, just a small chaste kiss that lingered a bit longer than most they had shared as friends. Before either of them could amplify it into something deeper, a voice rang out at them.
"Oy, Harry, Hermione, where have you two been?" floated Ron's voice from near the front doors. They quickly shifted away from each other. Harry sat up abruptly and Hermione nervously tucked a strand of wild hair behind her ear, swallowing a lump in her throat.
"What's up, Ron?"
"When are you gonna come and celebrate the House Cup with us, mate? Harry? Hermione?" he paused looking closely over the two of them, "something wrong?"
"Of course not Ronald," Hermione offered a little too harshly. She stood up swiftly and began making her way towards the castle. Ron shrugged at Harry behind her. She could have sworn she heard him mutter something that sounded a lot like "mental" in Harry's direction.
-(-(-
Over the next couple of days, Harry and Hermione exchanged several self-conscious glances at on another. In fact, Hermione could feel her face grow hot every time Harry was around. But neither mentioned the kiss by the lake. Hermione could not determine if this was a good thing or not. Was Harry simply too shy to bring it up with her, or did he feel absolutely mortified that he had kissed her; Hermione? At one point they were once again alone in the common room and Harry still hadn't found the guts to explain himself to her. Instead, he had mumbled something about a headache and raced up the stairs toward his room
This left Hermione feeling completely hopeless. She had been right all along; Harry would never think of her as anything more than a friend. She knew she wasn't exactly pretty. "You really are beautiful, you know..." What had he been playing at? And they way his eyes had penetrated into her very soul as he had spoken these words were still enough to send warms tingles down her spine. Today, she decided, was the day she took matters into her own hands. If Harry wouldn't bring it up, then she would. Perhaps she'd corner him before Potions, or after Care of Magical Creatures. Maybe it would be best if she just waited until later that evening when they could be alone in the Common Room…
"Hermione, wait up!"
"Oh hey, Ron."
"Wow, somebody's moody. Walk with me to transfiguration?"
"Sure."
Hermione could hardly contain her ability to focus on McGonagall's lecture. Harry had taken a seat directly in front of her (since he had lately abandoned his usual spot beside her) and she found herself staring at the back of his head all lesson. She had worn her hair up today and now was incessantly twirling bits of her ponytail around her fingers. She found herself daydreaming…
Harry had backed her up against McGonagall's desk, she could feel it against her butt as he leaned seductively towards her. "You really are beautiful…" he was saying as he leaned towards her, drawing her to him and placing a deep passionate kiss against her lips…
She was brought from her reverie - blinking back a building blush - by a student rushing through the door and handing McGonagall a letter, "From the Headmaster, Professor." McGonagall's eyes swept across the note, adjusted the glasses on her nose, cleared her throat, and looked up at the class.
"The Headmaster has requested my presence in his office immediately. Class dismissed." She swept past the students and, as an afterthought, turned her head back at them saying, "Miss Granger, if you'll kindly collect last week's homework and place it on my desk." And with that, she was gone.
Hermione rose slowly from her seat and began to gather the homework from the now empty desks. She shuffled the papers together in her hands and strode front of the classroom. As fate would have it, one of her fellow classmates had forgotten a satchel of some kind and had left it sitting on the floor beside their desk before exiting. In her haste to leave the classroom and catch up with Harry, the toe of her boot caught on the misplaced bag. Papers flew far and wide as she sailed downwards on a crash course towards the floor. With a dull thud her body collided with the hard wood, shooting pain through her elbows as she flailed wildly to grasp a desk.
"Merlin! Are you alright Mione?" came Harry's voice as he rushed towards her.
"Uhhh…" was all that managed to escape her lips before Harry helped lift her to her feet, sitting her down at a nearby desk. As she sat rubbing her hip, he collected the papers from the floor.
Coming fully to her senses, Hermione leapt from her chair, tearing the papers from Harry's grip. "I'm fine, really. I can do that," she said, a bit more harshly than she had meant. She plucked the few remaining sheets of parchment from the floor and continued towards the front desk. She couldn't help but be furious with Harry for his lack of communication lately, but at the same time couldn't help being mortified that he had seen her trip. I can't believe he saw that whole thing! Hermione, you idiot!
"What are you still doing here, anyway? Haven't you got somewhere better to be?" she snorted, placing the papers atop the desk and not daring to look back at him. Suddenly he was standing right behind her.
"I thought I'd wait for you," he murmured. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her exposed neck and trembled slightly. Blushing, she remembered her daydream from minutes before. "I thought maybe we could talk."
Still not looking at him, she continued to mix up the papers in front of her, "Whatever about Harry?"
"Listen," he said, clutching her shoulder and turning her to face him, "I've had Dobby pack us a picnic, I thought maybe you'd like to accompany me outside for lunch. You know, just the two of us."
She blinked at him, confusion evident in her eyes, and then a broad smile crossed her face. "Of course, Harry. I'd like that."
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