Allergies and Anagrams

A/N: Okay, I've posted this as filler for those of you waiting on Re-Awakening. I've had literally no time to write this past week; I didn't start on Chapter Nine until last Friday, and even then I was stumped on the beginning part. Don't worry, it's coming along smoother now, but I've just been set back majorly by RL. Anyway, read this while you wait, the next chapter should be out by next week at the latest!

Disclaimer: Okay, here we go again. I own none of this. I'm only borrowing, with the intent on returning when I'm done, or at some point in time in the near (or far) future. Enough drabble, on with the show!

Allergies and Anagrams

Harry checked his watch for what had to have been the hundredth time that morning as he sat in the Gryffindor Common Room. `Where is she? Hermione is never usually this late.' Harry began to drum his fingers on the arm of the lounger he was in, as was his habit when he was becoming impatient and nervous. Why was he nervous? Today was Hermione Granger's birthday, and if he had anything to do about it, it would be her best birthday ever.

***** Flashback *****

“Dobby. Dobby!” Harry called out over the heads of the many busy house-elves. “Dobby, where are y- oh, there you are.”

“Harry Potter, sir! What an honor to see you again! What is you be needing?” Dobby asked as he greeted Harry in his usual fashion of latching on to his midriff.

“Ooof. Nice to see you too, Dobby.” Harry managed to pry the beaming house elf off him, and stood massaging his stomach for a moment before kneeling down so he was more or less eye level with Dobby. “Dobby, can you do me a huge favor?” In response, Dobby flapped his head so quickly that Harry was afraid it would fall off. “Okay, okay, that's good and plenty,” Harry said, arresting the motions of Dobby's head before he became queasy.

“Tomorrow is Hermione's birthday, and I want it to be special for her. Tonight, when you come up to clean the Common Room, can you put these flowers on her bedside table?” Harry lifted up a fairly large handful of wildflowers he had spent over an hour picking earlier that day. He had placed an ever-fresh charm on them, so they would not wilt.

“Also, I'd like you to put a message into her cereal.” Harry handed Dobby a slip of paper that had writing on it. “Do you think you can do this for me, Dobby?” Dobby looked at the paper, then up at Harry.

“Dobby would be delighted, sir! I will make Harry Potter's `Mione happy! Anything for Harry Potter, sir!”

“Thanks, Dobby. I owe you one, big time. I know, how about I buy you something nice in return. How's that sound?” Before the overwhelmed elf could respond, Harry rose to his feet, grinning hugely, and ran off to the kitchen door, waving wildly over his shoulder.

***** End Flashback *****

Harry checked his watch again. `Oh, Hermione better hurry up! Breakfast starts in five minutes, and if we don't hurry Hermione might not get her surprise.' At that very moment, Harry heard a door opening in the girls' dormitories, and footsteps descending rapidly. Looking up, he expected to see the owner come breezing down, but the footsteps seemed to have stopped short of the foot of the stairs. The reason for the halt was soon revealed.

“AAAACHOOOOO!! Gah! Bloody flowers! Damn bloody allergies! AAAAA-CHOOOOOO!!!” Hermione stormed into the Common Room, flowers in her right hand, and a semi-used tissue in her left. Her nose was bright red, and her face seemed to have swollen slightly. Harry was about to say his usual morning hello, but never got the chance to. Hermione blew right past him and up to the fireplace, which was lit at all times, and promptly threw the assortment of various flowers into the crackling flames.

Hermione spun around, and saw Harry standing there. Her face brightened a little. “Oh, hello Harry. I didn't see you standing there. Some inconsiderate jerk put wildflowers next to my bed; I'm horribly allergic to wildflowers. I woke up this morning sneezing and hacking, and feeling miserable. Some start to a birthday!”

Harry looked to the floor. `Oh, man, I can't believe I forgot she was allergic to wildflowers! The day isn't even five minutes old, and already I've botched things up! Well, breakfast should cheer her up. I don't see how that could go wrong.' Looking up at Hermione, Harry saw her finishing blowing her nose. Smiling bravely, Harry walked up and said, “So, Hermione. Ready for breakfast?”

Hermione looked at her watch, and let out a stream of breath laced with mild curses. “Oh, bloody . . . I need to stop by Madam Pomfrey's before I hit the Great Hall first, to pick up something to clear my . . . my . . . AAACHOOO! Allergies . . .”

“Here, I'll go with you and carry your stuff for you.” Harry bent down and grabbed Hermione's bag, and swung it over his shoulder.

“Harry, you don't need to do that. Go ahead down to breakfast and I'll join you later.”

“Nonsense! We can't have the birthday girl go wandering around the school all alone, and hungry! It's all right, Hermione, I don't mind, really. Besides, I don't fancy watching Ron stuffing his face right at the moment.” Hermione chuckled weakly at the image of their best friend Ron.

“Thanks, Harry. I really appreciate it. Just to warn you though, I can't control when I . . . I . . . AAAACHOOO! . . . sneeze, so, sorry if I spray you.” With that, they left the Common Room and headed for the Hospital Wing to get Hermione a remedy.

Ten minutes later, they sat down at the table, Hermione's ears still smoking lightly from the Pepper-Up Potion. Harry reached over and grabbed a bowl of her favorite cereal. “Here you go, Hermione.” But Hermione had already pulled out a book, and was deeply submerged in reading it. She reached out deftly, grabbed a spoon, and started eating. Shaking his head, Harry began serving himself a decent helping of toast, bacon, and eggs.

Five minutes later, Hermione's cereal began to swirl around and around, as if there was a whirlpool in the center. `Perfect, Dobby's right on time!' thought Harry, when he saw the swirling cereal. He glanced up at Hermione, and sighed. She was still reading her book and hadn't even noticed that her cereal was now a vortex. “Um, Hermione, look at your cereal. Something weird is happening.” Harry hoped he sounded casual enough; he didn't want her catching on to him just yet.

The exact moment Hermione lowered her book, letters began appearing out of the swirling cyclone of milk. Her eyes widened when the letters came to a stop to spell `Hermione.' She looked at Harry, mouth open, while he attempted his best to not look too suspicious. She was about to ask him something, when her cereal began to swirl again, and the letters disappeared. Harry held his breath, knowing what was coming, and hoped for the best. Letters began to pop up, one by one, until a message began to form. Harry tensed, looking at Hermione for her reaction.

Hermione stared. Continued staring. Then, her face started to turn an alarming shade of red, and Harry noticed her hands were trembling; she was clenching her fists so tight her knuckles were white. Harry was alarmed; he had surely never felt anything like the anger he felt washing over her now, not even when Ron and her had been at their worst. Harry chanced a peek into her cereal bowl, and felt all the blood drain from his face as he read the message that was sitting there:

Verily, you hoar.

`Oh, no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no! Dobby! He must have gotten the letters switched around! Oh, crud, crud, crud, double crud!' Suddenly, Hermione sprang up and began tearing her way out of the hall, forcibly shoving aside anyone in her way. Harry sat staring after her for a brief second before he sprang up as well, scrambling to catch up. As she stormed out of the hall and turned to a side passage, Harry realized where she was headed, and groaned. `Oh, man, this is not going to end well!'

Harry rounded the final corner to find Hermione already tickling the giant pear, although it was rather more forcefully than needed. “H-Hermione! W-wait!” Harry panted out, having had to run to catch up after he had lost sight of her earlier. “P-please try and remain calm.” Hermione whirled around, finger pointing right in Harry's face.

“Oh no! No you don't! I refuse to let this slide! I've put up with a lot over the years, but this does it! Insulting me through my breakfast, on my birthday no less! When I catch who did this, I swear I'll give them so many detentions it's not even funny!” With that, she ripped open the door and stepped inside the kitchens, nearly slamming the door on Harry as he followed, now extremely pale.

“ALL RIGHT! WHO DID IT! WHO DARED SEND THAT MESSAGE TO ME!” Hermione belted out, her anger effectively halting every single house elf. From way out in the back of the kitchen came a commotion, and Dobby was soon seen running up to Harry and Hermione.

“Miss Hermione! Miss Hermione! Is you getting Dobby's message? Dobby . . .” But Dobby was cut short when he saw Harry waving his arms furiously, and then gulped when he turned his gaze upon Hermione's face, which had now reached a shade of purple that rivaled Vernon Dursley. Apparently, he hadn't heard Hermione's outburst upon entering the kitchens.

“It was you . . . you did this! You were the one that insulted me! DOBBY!!!” Hermione flung herself at the poor unfortunate house-elf, who had no idea why he was being assaulted. Luckily, Harry's Seeker reflexes allowed him to catch hold of Hermione before she reached Dobby. “Harry! Let me go! Let me at him! How dare he! After all I've done for him, for all of them! They go and slander me on my birthday!!”

“Dobby does not slander Miss Hermione.” Dobby said, fearfully. “Dobby would never insult Miss Hermione! Dobby is merely giving message. Dobby not writing it. Dobby . . .” Dobby began, but fell silent when he saw Harry shaking his head violently, his eyes wide in warning. Sensing that Hermione had calmed down, Harry let her go, hesitantly.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied the little elf. “What do you mean, you didn't write it? Does that mean someone gave it to you? Who? Who did this, Dobby?” Her voice was hard as steel and carried a heavy feeling of danger in it. Dobby looked quickly at Harry, then stammered out in response, “I-I - Dobby cannot say.”

“You can't, or you won't?” Hermione shot back. Dobby was now quaking in fear, he had never before been on the receiving side of Hermione's wrath.

“Dobby, c-can't, Miss.”

“Don't give me that! Now, tell me, who gave you that message? Tell me now!” Hermione then whipped out her wand, pointing it right at Dobby. Looking back, Harry would never be able to remember exactly why he did what he did next.

Stepping in front of Hermione, placing himself between her wand and Dobby, Harry looked Hermione straight in the eyes, and said, “Hermione, please don't be mad at Dobby. It wasn't his fault. It was mine. I asked him to send that message. I put him up to it. But - “

Suddenly, Harry found he could no longer speak. `Oh crap, what have I just done?' he thought.

Hermione was literally shaking in rage, her wand was trained on Harry, and her eyes held murder. “What - did - you - say?” Harry gulped, then cleared his throat.

“H-Hermione, I s-sent the message.” The kitchen was dead silent for about ten seconds.

“FURNUNCULUS!!” Hermione screamed out, catching Harry completely off guard. He barely had time to react, and as he dropped to the floor, he felt the breeze of the spell ruffle his hair.

“Hermione, wait! I can explain!” ZOOOM! Another spell went whizzing by his head, followed by two more. Harry was doing all he could do just avoid them. He really didn't want to, but if he felt like coming out of this with all his major limbs attached and in their original shapes, he had to fight back. As he ducked and rolled to avoid her most recent spell, Harry whispered “Expelliarmus,” barely moving his lips. The spell hit her, and her wand went soaring into the air. Promptly, Hermione flung herself at Harry, intent on using her fists instead.

“Hermione! Please, stop!” Harry shouted, ducking first one then another swing to his head. He managed to get a table between them before he continued. “Yes, I sent the message, but that isn't what it originally said. Whoa!” Harry had to stop and duck as a plate of eggs came flying at his head. “Somehow the letters got mixed around when Dobby sent them up!” Harry ducked again, a flagon of pumpkin juice sailing over his head this time. “I'm sorry, but it's true!” At this, Hermione stopped moving, and fixed Harry with a calculating stare.

“If that wasn't the original message, what was it?” Hermione shot out. Harry looked down, realizing it was now or never. Pulling the slip of paper out of his pocket, he walked over to where Hermione was standing, and handed it to her. Hermione glared at him, before opening the slip up and reading. Instantly, her face softened, and she looked back up at Harry, all traces of anger gone. “H-Harry? Is it true?” Harry nodded, his stomach too twisted up in knots to allow him to speak.

Suddenly, Harry found Hermione wrapped around him, her soft crying drifting out of his chest, where she had buried her face. Harry, alarmed, pulled her back and looked at her face. “Hermione, what's wrong? I'm sorry if I've upset you. I - I think I should probably go now. Just - just know that I still want to be friends. I'm sorry.” He turned to leave, but was stopped by Hermione grabbing his shoulders, turning him back around, and kissing him deeply. Harry was stunned for a moment, but soon found himself returning the kiss. When he began to feel light-headed, he pulled back and whispered, “Happy Birthday, Hermione,” before leaning down and kissing her again.

Out of Hermione's hand floated a scrap of paper. On it was written a simple message:

Hermione;

I love you, Harry

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