Again, that night, Hermione visited him in his dreams…
He walked alone through the halls until he came to the library. Surely this is where she would be. Sure enough, there, nose firmly in a book, was Hermione. She sat alone at her favorite corner table.
She looked up as he approached. "Harry! How are you?"
"Always the worrier, you are," he smiled, sitting down beside her. She pushed the book away from herself and turned to look at Harry. The intensity of her stare sent a shiver down Harry's back. "Of course I worry about you Harry. Honestly, don't you know what you mean to me?" A lump had suddenly taken up residence in Harry's throat.
What DID he mean to Hermione? The way her eyes were sparkling gave him an impression of just how much he
meant…
Suddenly, she was leaning forward and Harry felt her soft, round lips against his mouth. Closing his eyes, he pulled dream-Hermione towards him and kissed her back.
Harry sat straight up in bed, gasping. The dream. It had been so real…
Was he…? Had he…?
He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. Pacing the room, he wracked his brain over how this could have happened.
Did he think of Hermione in THAT way? Surely not! She was his best friend for Merlin's sake!
Putting his hands on top of his head, he let out a frustrated sigh. Heading for the door, he opened it and stepped into the hallway. Directly in front of him stood Hermione, also emerging from her room for a late-night stroll. She gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.
Fumbling for words, Harry whispered, "I was…j-just heading for the bathroom."
"Me too," she murmured quickly. Simultaneously, they started creeping down the hallway towards the toilet. Reaching the door, they looked at each other. Hermione was blushing softly, even in the darkness of the hall.
"You first," he swept his arm toward the entrance. Giving him one last nervous glance, she slipped inside. Soon, the door was opening and Hermione was walking past him, "Good night," she whispered over her shoulder. Harry watched her for a while and she slipped down the hallway, and then entered the bathroom. He stood in front of the sink and splashed water on his face. Dreaming of kissing Hermione, and then suddenly there she is….it was a lot for him to handle.
Silently, he crept back towards his room and went inside. He walked to the bedside table and placed his glasses on it. Turning towards the bed, he jumped in surprise.
"Hermione!" he hissed as silently as he could.
"Shh!" she whispered, getting up from the corner of his bed. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to scare you. I was just wondering…well, I've been having these nightmares…"
"Okay…"
"Well, I was just wondering…if…maybe you…I mean I-I…can I stay in here with you?"
"In here?"
"Mmm hmm."
"With me?"
"Uh..forget it Harry. I'm sorry," she began walking toward the door. Harry caught her by her wrist, stopping her.
"You've been saying that far too much lately."
"What's that?"
"That you're sorry."
"I'm sor…I guess you're right."
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"You can stay."
After a moments pause, Hermione made her way back toward Harry's bed. It wasn't until Hermione was climbing onto the bed that Harry noticed how overdressed he seemed. He had been wearing Dudley's old button-up pajamas for so long that it had never occurred to him that they might be `old-fashioned.' Long pants, long sleeves, and pinstripes.
As Hermione scooted herself down into the bed sheets, Harry saw that she was wearing nothing more than what appeared to be and old, worn pair of boxer shorts and a spaghetti strapped tank top. It suddenly occurred to him that he had probably never seen Hermione's bare legs before. Oh sure, he'd seen her in that pleated school skirt with those wool knee-stockings, but this was different.
Why do I care about Hermione's legs? He thought.
Cautiously, he slid into the bed next to her.
At first, it wasn't as awkward as he'd thought it would be. Hermione simply rolled away from him and was soon
slumbering peacefully. But Harry lay frozen for quite some time before sleep overcame him.
He woke again later to find that Hermione had shifted in her sleep and was now facing him.
She looks so beautiful…
Reaching out, he found his hand tangling itself into Hermione's chestnut curls. A thought suddenly struck him-
Had Hermione been sneaking out of her room earlier to sneak into his room? Or did she really just need to use the toilet?
"Reckless," he murmured, a small grin forming on his lips.
Glancing downward to where her arms folded together in front of her, he noticed the round of her cleavage that had formed at the neck of her tank top. Gulping, he brought his eyes back to her face. Startled, he found open and bright brown eyes looking back at him.
"Hi," a small whisper came from her lips.
"Hi."
"I wasn't kicking you in my sleep was I?"
"Not that I remember. I'll check for bruises in the morning," he lied, placing his hand gently on her hip. She closed her eyes and Harry pulled her toward him. She buried her head into his chest and sighed.
Suddenly, it was so simple to Harry. Nothing felt awkward about Hermione. Why should it? She had always been there for him. And he would always be there for her. At that moment, nothing else mattered to Harry.
Hermione's warm breath against his chest, the rise and fall of her body with each shallow breath, it all made sense now.
Closing his eyes, Harry neither dreamed of Hermione, nor Sirius, nor did he feel Voldemort's presence in his subconscious. With Hermione in his arms he fell blissfully into an untouched slumber.
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