Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK 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.
A/N: Right now I'm celebrating your wonderful reviews with a large chocolate cake. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
CHAPTER FIVE
She walks on wings and treads in air
"Just relax, Harry," Hermione said, putting an extra pillow under Harry's head. "This will feel nice. I promise."
"How do you know?" Harry eyed her suspiciously. "You said it was your first time too!"
"I've heard it from Lavender and Parvati. It's all they ever talk about. You know, it's a pity really that you have never done it with Professor Trelawney."
"Trelawney?!!" Harry looked at her in horror. "I'll never let her come near me! Imagine her touching me with her bony fingers! Euww!!!"
"Well, at least she's got more experience than I do. Not to mention that she'd love to do it with you," Hermione replied nonchalantly.
"Of course, she would," Harry puffed. "She must have heard that I did it with Snape last year, and she just got jealous. But you know that it was hardly my choice."
"But in the end you got a lot out of it, remember?"
Harry snorted.
"Now, you just lay back and erm…enjoy," Hermione ordered.
Harry closed his eyes, but kept smiling from ear to ear.
"Harry!" Hermione hissed. "Stop grinning! I can't concentrate."
Harry opened his eyes and saw rebuke in her hazel eyes.
"Okay, I'll try," he promised.
He closed his eyes again and formed a serious expression on his face. Hermione smiled satisfactorily and bent down.
When Ron entered the dorm that he was sharing with Harry, Dean, Neville and Seamus, he couldn't believe what he saw. Harry was sprawling on his bed, with his eyes shut and his breathing steady. Hermione was towering over him, her arms flailing and her lips muttering something monotonous.
"What are you two doing?" he guffawed.
His two best friends jumped up.
"Ron, you idiot!" they bellowed in unison.
Then Hermione turned to Harry. "I told you to lock the door!"
"Sorry, Hermione, I guess I forgot," he groaned.
"Do you mind telling me what's going on here?" Ron dared to ask.
"Oh, I was just trying to put Harry in hypnotic trance," Hermione explained. "It's for Trelawney's project."
Ron's eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"Yeah, I remember! We are supposed to try hypnosis to see the past, to get into another person's memories, so to speak. A bit like Occlumency. Trelawney said that looking at the past supposedly helps to see the future, or something like that. So did it work?"
"No, you barged in at the wrong moment," Hermione replied grudgingly.
"Sorry," Ron apologized. "Well, I'll leave you now. Maybe you can try again."
When Ron closed the door behind him, Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.
"Imagine what would have happened, if Ron walked in on us kissing?" Harry asked Hermione, pulling her towards him.
She laid her head on his chest and Harry played with her hair absentmindedly.
"What shall we tell him?" Hermione wondered.
"I think we should wait. I don't know how he will take it," Harry reasoned.
"Do you think, he still ...erm… well, do you think he still has a crush on me?" Hermione asked him.
"I don't know. He never told me."
"Let's not tell him anything yet," Hermione decided.
"All right," he agreed and kissed the top of her head.
"Harry, are we dating?" she asked thoughtfully.
He looked at her intently. "Are we? I mean, do you want us to be?"
"Yes," she smiled.
"I'm not too good at dating, if you remember," he warned her.
"It's okay, we'll take it slow," she promised.
He gave her a quick peck on the lips and then nipped at her earlobe, all the while tickling her mercilessly. Hermione giggled, trying to get away. He held her tight, laughing at her helplessness.
"Harry, stop that right now!" she shrieked. "You know I'm ticklish!"
She wriggled out of his arms and put on her 'what-have-you-got-to-say-for-yourself' look, but soon melted, charmed by his cute smile.
"Harry, you are-"
"Irresistible," he finished for her with a smug smile. "I know that."
She shook her head and began to put away the things she had prepared for the hypnosis session. Suddenly the bell rang, indicating the beginning of the lessons. Hermione, who had a free period, went on with her cleaning-up calmly, but Harry jumped off his bed and, grabbing his bag, quickly exited the dorm.
Hermione smirked, trying to remember how many times this week the teachers scolded him for being late (which was mostly her fault, she had to admit). She wondered, if he was going to get out of it without getting a detention.
Suddenly, Harry's head reappeared from behind the door.
"I forgot something," he grinned and kissed her hungrily. She kissed him back with equal ardour.
"I love you," he whispered and disappeared behind the door.
"I love you too," Hermione whispered back to the empty room.
She sighed happily and sank on his bed. She took his pillow and stroked it dreamily. She was so crazy in love (and the love was mutual), that it seemed that the days before their first kiss belonged to another era. She couldn't even imagine how she lived without his hugs and kisses before. Now she got plenty of those, whenever she wanted. Never again did she begrudge any couples their sweet moments of intimacy. Whatever they had, she had manyfold.
She reluctantly left his dorm and went down for dinner. Around her, hordes of students from all four houses pushed and elbowed her, but she treaded in air, far above them. When Professor Trelawney, draped in a large bright serape, bustled by, mumbling something to herself, Hermione giggled quietly, remembering the fiasco with hypnosis.
Draco Malfoy walked past her with his henchmen Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at her nastily, juggling a few of her S.P.E.W. badges. She just smiled at him dreamily, willing to forget any of his abasements. Malfoy's jaw dropped as he followed her with his eyes. Even his thick-headed companions were for the first time in his experience at a loss for words.
Hermione joined her friends at the table, winking secretly at Harry.
"How is your homework, Ron," she asked kindly, while putting a piece of shepherd's pie on her plate.
"I've got it all done," Ron said, rummaging through his bag. He pulled out his Potions essay.
"That's very good, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed when she saw a few rolls of parchment.
Ron glowed with pride, at the same time being very surprised at Hermione's reaction. He never thought he'd hear her compliment his work. And she never stopped smiling.
"You and Hermione seem to have sorted things out," Ron mumbled to Harry with his mouth full of food.
Harry nearly chocked.
"I mean she even helped you with the Divination project," Ron went on, absolutely oblivious to Harry's alarmed look.
Harry half nodded / half grimaced, almost having buried his head in his plate.
"By the way, how did it go?" Ron was curious.
"We haven't tried again. Hermione couldn't concentrate," Harry mumbled.
"Yeah, it's a hard job, trying to put someone in a trance. It's awfully nice of her to help you."
Harry wished that the dining table would open up and he would fall all the way down into the underground kitchens.
That evening Harry was accompanying Hermione on her Prefect rounds. The walked hand in hand, chatting and kissing.
He took her to a bench in a niche and pulled her to sit on his lap. He undid the clasp of her hair clip, burying his fingers in her silky hair.
"I love your hair," Harry confessed.
Hermione gasped and her eyes grew wide. "Harry!"
"Oh, Hermione! Don't you ever get bored of being a goody two-shoes?"
"I'm not a goody two-shoes," she said, flustered. "It just wouldn't be proper. What if Filch finds us like that?"
Harry raised his eyebrows at her.
"What are you looking at?" she asked, irritated, as he kept peering at her.
"Nothing," he shrugged. "Just trying to make out your halo."
"Oh please!" Hermione rolled her eyes.
He nuzzled her neck. "You need to relax, Hermione. There's more to life than books and rules."
"You mean I'm boring?!" she frowned.
"No, Hermione. You are not boring, but you don't enjoy life. There will be a day when you'll regret it."
"I enjoy life when I'm with you," she whispered.
That night Hermione lay awake in her bed. She remembered the kissed they shared in the dark corridors. Just the thought of it sent a tingle of excitement racing through her. She was so blissfully happy and it seemed like nothing could ever taint that.
* * *
When Harry entered the Great Hall next morning, all eyes were on him. The persistent attention was something he got used to by now, but this time there was something ominous about the stares and the low drone of the voices. With a feeling of foreboding he walked over to the Gryffindor table. Hermione was glued to an article in the Daily Prophet, her expression betraying all her emotions. Ron was avoiding Harry's stare.
"What's there?" Harry nodded towards the article.
"Nothing," Hermione said quickly, as she shoved the newspaper in her bag.
"Hermione," Harry uttered warningly. "Show me the paper."
Hermione blanched, and unwillingly handed the newspaper to Harry. He took it from her and his eyes fell on the article captioned YOU-KNOW-WHO IS IN PERSUIT OF HIS QUARRY AGAIN. Thousands of pairs of eyes in the Great Hall followed Harry's every move.
As he read and re-read the article, the crease on his forehead became deeper. Hermione willed herself not to cry. Her perfect little world was shattered to pieces. How could she be so naïve, thinking that they could be forever happy with Voldemort still lurking around. Truthfully, she forgot about such horrors and made herself believe that their love could conquer everything.
Harry felt the curiosity of the students dig into his skin like claws of a vulture. Everyone wanted to see how he would react, if he would cry or show fear. He disappointed them by folding the newspaper calmly and walking out of the Great Hall at a slow pace. In his dorm he got into his bed and pulled the hangings close around him. He wasn't crying. The fact that Voldemort was still after him hardly surprised him, and the article in the Daily Prophet was no revelation. It would have happened sooner or later. Voldemort was mad and wished to kill him at last. Harry pictured the cadaverous face and red slits of his eyes that haunted him since he was eleven. What he wouldn't give now to swap places with someone else.
He wanted to shut himself in his room and not leave it at all. Never. But he reckoned that it would fuel the rumours even more. So he walked the corridors of Hogwarts with his head held high, his stance stoic.
It was almost a week later and Hermione was sitting in the Common Room, making a list of Christmas presents she had to buy for her family and friends. Harry was standing by the fireplace and watched the smoldering logs. It was always the same now. He would sit for hours in silence, without saying a word, just thinking.
"Are you going home for Christmas?" he asked her in a dull voice.
Whatever her parents had in store for her, Hermione didn't want it. She'd rather spend whatever time she had with Harry, than go around the world on a luxurious yacht.
"No, I'm staying here with you," she replied.
Harry turned away and stared out of the window. Hermione stepped closer to him and slipped her arms around his waist, her fingers grazing his muscular chest under a thin shirt. "Look at me. Please."
He turned to look at her and there was pain in his lackluster eyes. Her heart ached for him.
"Please, let me into your life," she whispered. "I don't want you to be alone."
He pulled her into a hug and buried his face in her hair. She felt his shoulders shake as he cried silently. She rubbed his back soothingly.
"Don't, Harry," she whispered. "Everything will be all right. I'm here with you."
"Thank you, Hermione," he murmured. "Where would I be without you?"