Hospital Blues

dream_boat

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 22/03/2005
Last Updated: 22/03/2005
Status: completed

Oh that Harry! He can really be daft sometimes! Hermione thought as she raced her way to the Hospital Wing. Of all things! Quidditch! Bursting through the door into the room, she immediately spotted Harry lounging on one of the small hospital beds, a wide grin on his face...

Chapters

1. BLUES part 1

2. BLUES part 2

1. BLUES part 1

DISCLAIMER: JK ROWLING owns the characters in this story.

NOTE: This story was originally intended to be a comedy. My apologies if it gets a bit dramatic towards the end. Hope you like it, I only proof read the last bit…so there's probably mistakes galore. Oopla! (Also, the title fit when I first started writing it…sorry it doesn't flow all the way through…what happened?)

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Oh that Harry! He can really be daft sometimes! Hermione thought as she raced her way to the Hospital Wing. Of all things! Quidditch! Bursting through the door into the room, she immediately spotted Harry lounging on one of the small hospital beds, a wide grin on his face.

“Hey Hermione! Great game wasn't it?”

“Harry James Potter!” she exploded, storming towards his bed. “What on earth were you thinking!?” A startled look crossed Harry's face and his smile began to fade.

“Hermione, it's only Quidditch.”

“Exactly Harry! You have more important things to be going on with!” Harry's face dropped.

“Well, at least we won,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

“Blast! Harry! You could have died!” She fumed, pacing the room and waving her arms wildly through the air.

“Yes, and I should be saving that for Voldemort, right?” He asked softly. Hermione stopped mid-pace and a soft blush rose to her cheeks.

“Oh Harry, I didn't mean…”

“No, it's all right. I understand. Listen,” he said, shifting himself in bed, “I'm getting a little tired. I need to be rested so I can save the world.”

“Right, I'll go.” She paused at the door, wanting to say more but knowing she had already said much more than her fair share. “Good night Harry.”

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Hermione made her way slowly back to the common room in silence. She hadn't meant to hurt Harry like she had. It had never crossed her mind that if he died now, he wouldn't be able to face Voldemort. It had been purely instinct to worry about him. She'd always worried about him, and she was never going to change.

Finally stopping at the portrait of the Fat Lady, she struggled her way into the Common Room. The space was crowded, due to Gryffindor's success, and she ambled her way toward the stairs.

In her room, she threw herself onto the bed feeling utterly horrible. A soft knock on the door signaled Ginny's entrance.

“What's wrong, Hermione? Did you visit Harry?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm…didn't get a chance to jump his bones?”

“Ginny!”

“What? You know that I know that you - love - Harry!”

“That's not true. You don't know what you're talking about Ginny.” Sighing, Ginny flopped onto the bed beside Hermione and they lay together staring at the ceiling.

After a few quiet moments Ginny repeated, “Didn't get a chance to jump his bones, then?”

“Nope.”

More silence.

Then Hermione sat up abruptly, “I was just worried about him, but it came out all wrong and now Harry's mad at me and I don't know what to do Gin.”

“Well, surprise him or something.”

“What do you mean surprise him?”

“Just something that would cheer him up.”

“Like what?”

“You're supposed to be the smart one, Hermione.”

“I don't know anything about…”

“Cheering?”

“Well, you know, relations…between boys…and girls.”

“Why don't you just start with what you do know then…friendship.”

“What do you suggest?”

“He's your best friend Hermione, not mine. Think of something he would enjoy. And something that might help him to see that you have his best interest at heart.”

Hermione fell back onto the bed with a loud exhalation. She was completely clueless. She had no idea what could cheer Harry up at this point. Quidditch had seemed like his last refuge, and she had ruined that for him. She would have to start simple.

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The next day, Harry was out of the Hospital Wing and joined them in class. Hermione had stayed up most of the night pouring through the books in her room in search of some useful charms. She sat nervously behind him in Transfiguration waiting for her first surprise to come into effect. She had decided to send him a nice note…what some might think of as a love note. Strictly anonymous of course. But this note had a few special traits that Hermione had managed to fix up so as to make it extra special.

She could hardly force herself to sit still while McGonagall lectured them about the hazards of amateur self-transfiguration. The class was `ooing' and `aweing' as she gave detailed accounts of transformations gone wrong. But Hermione paid no notice. Then, suddenly, it happened. With a poof, a small scroll of parchment appeared on Harry's desk. Hermione's heart lurched in anticipation, right on time!

“Oy, what's that mate?” Ron leaned in to examine the tightly rolled note. A thin red ribbon trailed downward as Harry lifted and inspected it.

“I have no idea,” Harry whispered back.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?” McGonagall's voice called from the front of the room.

“No, no problem Professor,” he said, slipping the parchment out of sight below his desk. McGonagall straightened her glasses atop her nose and continued on. Harry glanced down towards his lap and began unrolling the note. Hermione felt her palms begin to sweat. She watched the ribbon fall to the floor as Harry slid it off, and then a loud crack filled the room, followed by a billowing cloud of black smoke.

The next thing Hermione saw was Harry falling backwards in his chair, crashing to the floor. She sat rigged looking at what appeared to be an extra crispy Harry writhing on the floor in agony clutching a blackened, curled bit of parchment.

Oops, she thought.

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Harry was back in the hospital immediately. Hermione stood alone in her dormitory as a rage rapidly took over her body. She grabbed a pillow and began thrashing it against her bed, mumbling obscenities in the process.

In mid-swing, Ginny popped her head into the room.

“Hermione? What on earth is going on in here?”

“Oh Ginny! It's no use! I'm wretched!”

“What? What's wrong?”

“It's Harry.”

“Yeah, I heard. Back in the Hospital Wing again, isn't he?”

“That's not the half of it.”

“What do you mean, Hermione?” Ginny slowly took the battered pillow from Hermione's grasp and sat down on the bed, clutching it to her chest.

“It's my fault. I was trying to do what you said, you know, make up with him. It just went all wrong.”

“What did you do?”

“I charmed a note to him…and well, I guess I'm not too good with…emotional charms.”

“Goodness Hermione!”

“I know.”

“I heard his eyebrows were blown clear off!”

Hermione winced at the thought of an eyebrow-less Harry.

“Oh, I'm sure he's fine Herms. Why don't you go visit him?”

“I can't! He'll know it was me! He'll be furious, he'll see right through me!”

“That is, if he still can see,” Ginny chuckled.

“Not funny Ginny,” Hermione snarled, grabbing the pillow from Ginny's grip and giving her a good whack.

“You just need to come up with something better. I mean, a note? That's not very inventive Hermione. You can think of something better. I know you can.”

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Two days later, Harry once again returned to regular classes from the Hospital Wing. And although her last charm had gone severely wrong, she felt she had perfected her latest idea. It was rather ingenious. At least she thought so.

She sat at the long table in the Great Hall waiting for her friends to join her, nervously eyeing the goblet of pumpkin juice that sat at Harry's usual seat. Genius, she thought. Or incredibly stupid, another voice shouted from somewhere else in her brain. The idea was that when Harry drank the juice, he would get a feeling of Hermione's apology. It was hard to explain, but the overall effect was supposed to be Harry's emotional understanding of Hermione's undying loyalty and apologetic energy. Sort of an emotional link would be temporarily formed between the two.

It was an excellent bit of magic, in Hermione's mind, and she was sure she had pulled it off quite cunningly.

She saw Harry approaching from a distance, Ron beside him. She smiled and waved as the two drew near.

“Oh Harry! I'm so glad you're out of the infirmary!” He smiled at her and took his place beside her.

“Mmm, looks good,” he said, grinning at the food.

“And the pumpkin juice is excellent today, might I add,” she beamed, lifting her own cup to her lips. Harry lifted his own glass and tilted it toward Hermione, “Cheers!” With that, he took a large swallow.

Hermione sat ogling him, waiting for the effect to take place. Setting his goblet back onto the table, he resumed munching on a piece of toast. Her brows furrowed in disappointment. What did I do wrong this time? Then, Harry gripped his stomach in alarm, a moan of pain spilling from his lips. Uh oh, what did I do wrong this time? Harry was suddenly on his feet and racing out of the Hall. Hermione tossed her napkin onto the table and followed him.

When she finally caught up to him, he was retching into a disheveled suit of armor.

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“So I hear Madame Pomfrey finally found a potion to stop the barfing,” Ginny said, grimacing. Hermione could only nod. Her body felt limp. She just wanted to climb into her bed sheets and never come out again.

“Listen,” Ginny began, “maybe you should just tell him how you feel.”

“It was your dumb idea in the first place, Ginny!”

“Well how was I supposed to know the brightest witch in all of Hogwarts could be so horrible at a few simple charms?”

Hermione conceded and rolled limply over on the bed to face her friend, “Tell him? Really?”

“Hermione, he deserves to know how you feel.”

“I know. I just…it's just…he has much more important issues to worry about.”

“Like what?”

“Voldemort!”

“You really think Voldemort is more important than something that could possibly turn out to be love?”

“I never said that I love Harry.”

“You didn't have to.”

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That evening, Hermione crept from the Common Room unnoticed. Holding her robes tightly around her, she made her way to the Hospital Wing. Pushing the doors open, she walked to the only occupied bed in the ward. She slipped through the curtains and sat down beside Harry's bed in a thick wooden chair.

He was fast asleep. She watched him as his chest slowly moved up and down with his breathing. His face was slightly pale from his day of vomitous exertion. She reached out and brushed the hair back from his forehead, exposing his scar. Somehow, she found herself sitting on the bed beside him, slowly running her finger over the scar. Softly, she traced her fingernail lightly over the flawed skin.

Harry murmured something in his sleep, and Hermione quickly withdrew her hand from his forehead. Looking away from him, she felt tears forming in her eyes. Then, gasping, she felt someone grab her wrist. Glancing down, she saw Harry looking sleepily back up at her.

“Don't stop.”

“What?” she whispered.

“Nobody's ever…well, no one has…” he trailed off.

“Nobody has what, Harry?”

He closed his eyes, and then looked back up at her, his voice softening, “Nobody's ever touched my scar before. I-I mean…besides Voldemort.”

“Oh.”

“It just felt nice, I guess,” he whispered, releasing her wrist from his gentle hold. He closed his eyes again, and Hermione swallowed the huge lump that was forming in her throat. Silence settled on them for a few moments before Hermione stretched herself out beside Harry. Lifting one arm, she began once again to delicately massage the small lighting bolt on his skin. He sighed contentedly and rolled to face her. Resting her elbow on Harry's shoulder, she continued to rub the scar with her thumb. Soon, his breathing became shallow and sleep overcame him.

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Hermione was already exhausted the moment she awoke the next morning. She went through her regular routines of readiness then dressed and made her way down the stairs toward the Common Room. Flopping herself onto the squishy couch she stretched and yawned as Ginny stepped through the portrait hole.

“You're lucky it's Saturday, sleep-head,” she scolding, walking briskly towards Hermione carrying two steaming mugs of coffee.

“Coffee…” Hermione moaned wistfully, “however did you get it?”

“The house elves, of course,” she grinned, handing a thick green mug in Hermione's direction. The disheveled Prefect immediately began taking practiced sips from the warm cup. “Sooo…” Ginny began, “somebody was out late last night,” she winked.

“Patrols,” Hermione said, matter-of-factly.

“Mmm hmm, sure.”

Hermione simply blinked at her innocently until Ginny conceded, “Fine, don't tell me, but I know you went to visit Harry.”

“So what if I did? I'm a Prefect,” she said, lifting her head and pushing back her shoulders.

“Oh, well, if you're going to pull rank on me.”

“That's exactly what I'm doing.”

“Hermione, I don't want to sound…motherly or anything,” Ginny started, “but you are sixteen now…”

“And your point, Mum, is?”

“When are you going to wake up and, well, slap some sense into Harry?”

“I'm working on it.”

“Well,” Ginny said, sighing, “I guess I'll have to settle with that for now.”

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Harry was out of the hospital wing that afternoon and made his way outside to join his friends as they lounged about the grounds chatting. Hermione had propped herself against a tree by the lake and was deeply engrossed in a book. Ron was skipping stones across the lake's surface. Neville, Luna and Ginny were all laughing over a game of exploding snap. Smiling politely, he greeted them all with a wave and quick hello before settling down beside Hermione under the tree. She looked up, surprised, and grinned at him.

“Hey `Mione,” he said softly.

“Hi, Harry.”

He looked away toward the lake and relaxed his legs, stretching them out in front of him. Hermione returned her attention to her book.

“You left last night,” he spoke suddenly, without looking at her.

“Oh,” a soft blush rose to Hermione's cheeks, “well, I didn't want to wake you after you fell asleep.” For some reason, she felt embarrassed about the previous night. It had seemed to be such an intimate moment and in some ways…she was hoping Harry wouldn't remember.

“Right, yeah.” The two returned to their silent thoughts before a thought occurred to Hermione -

“Did…did you want me to stay?” She asked, looking up at him as he stared across the lake. Slowly, he turned his head to face her and in a soft, serious tone simply replied, “Yes.” His eyes rested on hers in a piercing gaze and Hermione felt her lower lip tremble slightly. Until this moment, she hadn't noticed how close he was sitting to her. Another foot and his lips could be hers…

Just then Ron sauntered over with a wide grin on his face, “Oy, Harry, up for a game of chess?” Hermione quickly buried her nose between the pages of her book. Harry forced a smile and jumped up to follow Ron back to the castle, brushing the grass from his pants as he went.

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Hermione didn't know what to do with herself. She sat fidgeting at a table in the Library, unable to read, unable to focus. Her whole body was tingling slightly. She had almost kissed Harry, hadn't she? She had been so close!

Ginny came skipping into the Library and threw herself down onto the bench beside Hermione.

“Have a nice little chat with Harry today, did you?”

“Er…what?” Hermione asked, twirling a strand of curly hair on one finger. Ginny giggled and continued, “You're twirling your hair, Hermione.”

“I am not,” she scoffed, pulling her hand quickly away from her toffee colored locks. With a soft hmph of disapproval she went back to pretending to read her book.

“Now you're biting your lip,” Ginny sniggered.

“Okay,” Hermione snapped the book shut, throwing dust particles into the air, “alright!”

“Whoa, easy Hermione,” Ginny chuckled, smiling at the students who were now looking in their direction. Quietly but insistently Hermione told Ginny about the `almost kiss.'

“So what's the problem?”

“I don't know if I should be kissing Harry…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you remember what happened in fourth year with that whole Rita Skeeter article.”

“Herms, that's ancient history!”

Sighing deeply, Hermione shook her head, “I just don't know if he needs all that bad media attention again…not with what's coming.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that and I keep telling you, Harry could use a little lovin`. You have to stop making excuses Hermione. The truth is that Harry needs you!”

“If Harry really needed me he would tell me himself.”

“Since when has Harry even been capable of expressing his needs?”

“I just don't think it's a good idea right now.”

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That evening, Hermione sat beside Ginny in the Great Hall for dinner. Harry cast curious glances at her from farther down the table, obviously confused at to why she wasn't sitting in her normal place beside him. She pretended not to notice but she could feel his gaze on the side of her face. Ginny was telling some outrageous story about something Professor Flitwick had said in her Charms class that day, but Hermione couldn't focus. She picked at her food until she finally gave up and excused herself early, striding quickly across the Hall and upward to the Common Room.

She had decided to put some distance between herself and Harry. The farther she was from him, the easier it would be to stop thinking about him.

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2. BLUES part 2

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The next morning Hermione sat silently eating her breakfast with a book propped between her fingers. Turning the page, she sensed a slight commotion stirring through the students at the Gryffindor table but paid no attention until someone shouted, “Look out!”

She looked up just in time to see something zooming directly towards her face. Instantly, everything went black.

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“Looks like she's coming out of it…”

“How can you tell?”

“I swear I saw her eyelashes flutter…”

Hermione raised her arm and massaged her forehead, feeling a large bump directly over her left eyebrow. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The lights stung as she squinted at the people standing around her bed. The whole troupe was there; Neville, Ron, Ginny, Luna and off in the corner a stood a brooding Harry. He looked up at her and she quickly moved her eyes away.

“What happened?” she asked the others. They all began fidgeting nervously when Ginny hopped forward, thrusting what looked like a paper airplane into Hermione's hand, “This hit you,” she said, grinning wickedly. Neville looked away and Ron began rubbing the back of his neck in a twitchy manor. Luna simply nodded furiously, smiling in a vacant sort of way.

Examining the object in her hand she asked, “How could this knock me out?”

“Well, we think it was charmed,” Ginny offered, “there's a not inside too….er, not that we read it or anything.”

Just then, Madame Pomfrey entered and shooed them all out. Hermione sat alone, staring at the note in her hands. Slowly, she began turning it over and over, examining its oddly heavy weight and delicate construction. Then she began to unfold it and her eyes were greeted with carefully scripted writing -

Hermione,

I have been thinking about you so much lately. My mind is consumed with thoughts of you. I can't concentrate in class when you are there distracting me, haunting me. But somehow, I can't seem to find the courage to tell you how I feel. Until the day when I am strong enough to hold you in my arms and tell you how much you mean to me, please be satisfied with the knowledge that somebody cares about you.

Love,

An Admirer

Hermione's heart leapt within her chest and just as rapidly descended into her stomach. As wonderful as the note had made her feel, she knew it couldn't possibly be from the boy she needed it to be from. Folding it back up as neatly as it had been, she placed it on the table beside her bed and lay her head back down on the fluffy, white pillow. Sighing, she drifted off to sleep to the warm dreams awaiting her…

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The next day was a Monday and Hermione went through the motions of going to classes in a lethargic, dreamlike state. Thanks to some help from Ginny, she had managed to tame her hair in a manor that would hide the welt on her forehead. She still had a hard time fathoming how something like a charmed paper airplane could leave a bump the size of Scotland on her forehead.

It was such a sunny and beautiful day outside, but Hermione could not force herself to be happy. Making her way to Arithmancy, she felt a sudden urge to run away. She stopped abruptly in her tracks, spun around, and headed toward the castle's exit. Skiving classes wasn't her normal repertoire, but as she opened the front doors and greeted the waning smell of summer, she couldn't help but feel liberated. Throwing her books onto the huge stone steps, she raced toward the shore of the lake. When she reached the lapping waters, she slowed and began a leisurely walk around the lake's perimeter.

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“There you are!”

Hermione jumped from her place on the soft grass and turned to see Harry emerging from the surrounding bushes.

“Harry! You startled me!” Watching him walk toward her she noticed his arms were filled with her discarded books.

“I found these and began assuming the worst,” he grinned, “it's not every day Hermione Granger leaves a book unattended, you know, let alone a whole stack!”

“Thanks,” she stammered, watching him place the books tenderly on the grass.

“So,” he said, seating himself beside her feet, “out for a stroll?”

Defeated, she resumed her spot on the grass, this time beside Harry. “I just needed to think I guess.”

“Not a particularly unusual pastime for Miss Granger,” he quipped.

Frowning, she brought her knees to her chest and encircled her arms around them. “The truth?” she asked.

“Always.”

“I've been thinking about that…letter.”

“Oh,” he said apprehensively.

“You don't think it was from Ron, do you?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, you remember how he acted fourth year…I just thought…well, I don't know.”

“Do you want it to be from Ron?”

“Well…I, hang on…I guess that means everybody did read it,” she said in a despaired tone.

“Well, not everyone.” He was quiet for a minute and then continued his line of questioning, “You didn't answer, do you want it to be from Ron?”

“No,” she spoke softly.

“Most people think you two would be a good match.”

“Most people? And why do they think that?” she asked, puzzled.

“Well you know…you and Ron both….I mean, you're both…you both like to…well, I guess you don't have much in common do you,” he chuckled.

Looking out at the lake, she shook her head, “Ron's a great guy, really he is. And he'll make some witch very happy someday. But I'm not that witch. I don't want to sound like a know-it-all snob or anything, but Ron and I aren't exactly the same caliber. It would be hard for me to be with someone who had such…low standards for themselves. Does that make sense?”

“Of course, you want someone who has priorities,” he nodded.

“Not just that…just somebody motivated I guess. Somebody…well, someone who's not Ron.”

“That's understandable.”

They were both quiet again, then Hermione spoke, “This is silly, really. Why are we even talking about this?”

“Why not? We're friends aren't we?”

Hermione looked away painfully and nodded. “Hey,” Harry said softly, “look at me.” She turned her head to face him. He reached a hand up and pushed her curls away from her face, exposing the rosy knot on her forehead, “Aren't we?”

“Of course we are.”

“Look, we're even beginning to look alike,” he smiled, lifting his own bangs to reveal the scar hidden behind them. Hermione giggled and tried to suppress the huge smile forming on her lips. “Aha, there it is!” Harry exclaimed, beaming at her. “That smile, I swear, sometimes I wonder if it's not a bit of magic itself!” Hermione felt a blush rising to her cheeks and turned away, unable to stop smiling.

“If I didn't know better Mr. Potter, I might assume you're using a Cheering Charm on me!”

“Me? Nonsense! Come, M'lady, let's walk,” he said, standing and stretching an arm towards her. She gripped it and hoisted herself from the ground. With a flick of Harry's wand, Hermione's books disappeared. No doubt, with his skills in magic increasing daily, they were now safely tucked away in her personal book shelf - most likely alphabetized as well.

They spent the afternoon circling the lake and Hermione was reminded of their fourth year when they had done the same thing, sharing bits of toast along the way. At one point, Hermione stumbled slightly over a rock and Harry reached and grabbed her hand to prevent her from falling. After regaining her composer, Harry's hand remained clasped around hers. She felt a herd of Hippogriffs stumbling around in her stomach as she and Harry made their way back to the castle hand in hand.

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That night, when she arrived back to her dorm, she found a note sitting on her bed. Hastily, she picked it up and ripped it from its envelope -

Hermione,

I'll be waiting for you in the Astronomy Tower tonight at midnight. Please come.

Love,

An Admirer

Staring blankly at the parchment, she wondered what to do. She glanced at the clock beside her bed: 11:30. Should she go? Should she stay? Grabbing her cloak from the back of a chair, she hurried out of the room and down the stairs toward the Common Room. As she crept down the stairs, she heaved a sigh of relief when no voices could be heard from below. Stepping down into the darkened room she saw a silent figure sitting on the couch before the huge fireplace. Walking closer, she recognized the eerie glimmer of spectacles dancing in the firelight.

“Harry?”

“Hermione? Where are you going at this hour?”

“I - uh - was just about to make some late rounds, you know…Prefect business.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Sorry.”

“I'll see you later then Harry,” she whispered. As much as she wanted to stay here with him, she also wanted to know who the letters were coming from. She wanted to get to the bottom of things. Plus, wasn't it much more interesting to spend an evening with someone who was actually interested?

What makes you think I'm not interested? A voice echoed in her mind. Stopping, she turned around to look at Harry, “Did you say something?”

“No,” his voice was quiet. She couldn't see his face quite clearly, but she was sure she knew the look on it. She had seen a similar look several times this year. It was inevitable, she supposed, considering he'd just lost his Godfather. An inner struggle ensued within Hermione. Harry had spent the afternoon lifting her spirits just like any good friend would. Was she going to let him suffer without her help in his time of need?

Sighing, she knew the answer already; no, of course not. Tossing her cloak over a chair in the corner, she threw herself onto the couch next to Harry. “What's wrong?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying to look genuinely surprised, but failing.

“You seem…down.”

“Didn't you have somewhere to go?”

“That can wait.”

“You're not keeping somebody waiting are you?” A hot blush rose to Hermione's cheeks, she was glad the room was dark. Could he know?

“Of course not. Who would be waiting for me?”

“I don't know…maybe someone who loves you.”

Arching her eyebrows she looked at him in disbelief, “Harry, what on earth are you on about?”

“You got another letter, didn't you,” he stated - with no hint of question in his voice.

“What if I did?” She paused and watched him as he stared blankly into the fire. “Harry, you know who it is, don't you!”

“Of course I know.”

“How could you keep it from me like this?”

“It doesn't matter. He loves you.”

“Loves me? How could he possibly love me if I don't even know who he is!?”

“But you do,” he said, turning to look into her eyes.

“I do?”

“Of course.”

“Harry…tell me.”

“Maybe you should just go find out for yourself.”

“Is this what's bothering you? This whole secret admirer thing?”

“If I asked you not to go and stay here with me, would you?” Hermione bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Had Harry really just asked her…? Had he asked…? Asked her to…? Stay?

“Why…are you asking?”

Silence.

“Yes.”

“Then I'll stay.” She scooted closer to him, her hips touching his, and rested her head on his shoulder. “What are friends for?” After several quiet moments of watching the flames dance in the fireplace, Harry spoke, “Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

“I-I…”

“What is it, Harry?”

I don't….Hermione, I don't want to be your friend…”

“What?” She asked, sitting up hastily.

“I mean…I…I do want to be your friend. It's just…”

“Just what?” She asked, genuinely puzzled and feeling slightly hostile.

“I want to be more, too.” There was a breathless pause before Hermione felt Harry's lips pressed softly against her own. She felt her body stiffen and then, as she felt his hand wander to her waist, relax. Gently, he pulled away from her and looked her in the eye. His own emerald eyes looked on the verge of eruption. With tears? Hermione couldn't tell.

She let her eyes drop from his and lowered her head to stare into her lap. With a small gasp, she brought her fingertips up to touch her lips where Harry's had been. Her lips…they didn't feel different, but she knew something had changed…

She suddenly had no idea what to do with any of her appendages. Everything about her body seemed awkward all at once and she felt as though she were made of rubber or that if she moved there was a chance she might end up falling face forward onto the carpet. She had never felt so uncomfortable in her own skin. Then, she felt Harry's hand clasp her wrist in his hand. She looked up and saw him staring intently at her. All random thoughts of clumsiness dissipated as new emotions swept into her brain. Before she had a chance to analyze these new, wonderful feelings she had flung her arms around Harry's neck and was kissing him with pure, uninhibited need.

She needed him. Did he need her?

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he rolled her onto her back over the length of the couch, fluidly resting his own body atop hers. When his lips returned to hers, she allowed them to part, giving his tongue access to her own. Tentatively, their tongues met and she heard herself moan as Harry's tongue caressed its way through her mouth. Somewhere in the furthest regions of her brain it registered that she had never been kissed in this way before. Her body began responding to the long-subdued desire she felt for Harry, her hips rolled upwards against his. Gasping slightly, he pulled away to look into her eyes…

Something in them must have lit a new flame within him, for he quickly resumed his ravishing of her swollen lips, and now he was grinding his own hips in time with Hermione's. She felt his hardness against her thigh and gripped his back in urgency. As his lips dipped lower and began their exploration of her neck, she knew that she had lost any and all chance of self-control…

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Hermione awoke hours later in complete darkness. Opening her eyes groggily she saw that she wasn't in her own room. Sitting up and feeling the slight burning of her lower abdomen, she remembered why. She looked down and saw Harry's bed sheets clinging feebly to her bare breasts. She gripped the sheets higher and turned to see Harry sleeping peacefully beside her with one arm draped over her lap. She wondered how they had managed to make it to Harry's bed without ripping each other's clothes off on the stairs…

She brushed the hair away from his face and curled up in front of him.

“Hi there,” he whispered, a smiled played across his lips but his eyes remained closed.

“Hey.”

He reached out toward her and pulled her body closer to him. The heat radiating from him was intense and she tucked her head underneath his chin, snuggling against his chest.

“Are you okay?”

“A little sore I guess, nothing I can't handle.”

“Thank Merlin for silencing spells, at least. Because you certainly sounded as if you were enjoying yourself.”

She giggled and he pressed his lips against her forehead. After a few moments she brought her face up to look at him, “Harry…who was waiting?”

“Nobody,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

“Nobody? Who wrote those letters?”

“Who do you think?”

“Harry James Potter,” she laughed, feigning disappointment.

“Hermione?”

“Mmm,” she murmured, snuggling forward against him.

“I love you.”

She pressed a kiss against his chest and whispered, “I love you too, Harry.” He sighed against her and drew her body tighter against his, their legs tangling together.

“Harry?”

“Mmm hmm,” he mumbled, teetering on the edge of sleep.

“Sorry about your eyebrows…”

With his eyes remaining closed, he lifted one eyebrow in a silent `Oh,' letting his lips form a satisfied smile.

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