Look in my eyes

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.

Classification: Romance

Pairing: H/Hr

Rating: PG-13

Summary: It’s the Trio’s sixth year at Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione are slowly becoming aware of certain attraction between them. Both suffer from bouts of ungrounded jealousy and just plain misery, but not even for one second does it occur to them that all they have to do is just look in each other’s eyes.

CHAPTER ONE

Back at Hogwarts

Hermione Granger was sitting in the Gryffindor common room on a Sunday afternoon. It was already mid-September. School started only two weeks ago, but the students have already plunged into the usual routine of the school work and Quidditch practices. But Hermione’s thoughts were far away from that. She sat there, thoughtful, tousling the letter that a brown barn owl had just brought in. It was from Viktor Krum. Hermione let out a sigh. She started to find his love somewhat burdensome. His every letter was practically stuffed with his assertions of love. He knew that she didn’t share his feelings, but he kept writing to her anyway. She wanted to tell him to stop sending letters, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She just didn’t want to hurt him. She used to like him once, but they were so different, and with time their differences became even more obvious. She’d have to end it one day, whether he wanted it or not. And it would really mean the end of it. Somehow staying just friends with him didn’t seem like a feasible option. She knew it wouldn’t work out. She sighed again and slipped the letter in her schoolbag. She would deal with it later.

Now she had other things to think of. To start with, she was now in her sixth year and she was still the Gryffindor Prefect. This meant a great responsibility. Just today Professor McGonagall was telling her how glad she was that such a zealous and reliable student became the Prefect. And Hermione didn’t want to let her down. Her sixth year was going to be a lot harder, but she was pretty sure that she would be able to combine her duties with studying.

In the other corner of the room a flash of ginger hair that could only belong to a Weasley caught her eye. Ginny Weasley, Ron’s little sister and her best friend. She watched her, smiling. Ginny grew up a lot for the past year and especially this summer, and now, at the age of fifteen, she was turning into a pretty young woman. Her image has undergone some major changes too. She wasn’t the shy, insecure little girl any more. She grew out of her crush on Harry and just last year started dating boys, to much discontent of Ron. Her relationship with the Ravenclaw Michael Corner didn’t last long and over the summer she turned her affections to Dean Thomas, on whose lap she was sitting right now. They looked like a nice couple, but their relationship was rather stormy. They got together and they broke up with a frequency of soap-opera characters. They had minor rows all the time – Ginny simply couldn’t stand his obsession with soccer and Dean thought she was too pushy at times. Right now they were having a heated discussion about something and if one looked at them, they’d say that these two were madly in love with each other. They surely were. When they were apart, Ginny was unhappy, despite her saying that she didn’t wish to see Dean ever again. She and Hermione grew very close during Hermione’s stay at the Burrow at the end of the summer holidays. She’d been a witness to all their trials and tribulations, and she could see that these two couldn’t live a day without each other. She tried to give all the support she could to her friend, especially after Ron had found out about the whole thing. He wasn’t too happy about it. He still thought of Ginny as a little child who needed his protection. Dean was a good friend of his, they even shared the dormitory, but he still didn’t trust him with his sister. Hermione was pretty sure that he wouldn’t trust anyone for that matter.

Ginny caught her amused look and waved at her amicably. Hermione smiled at her and sighed inwardly. She wished that she too had someone who could make her feel so blissfully happy when they were around and so utterly miserable when they were gone. Sometimes she felt that she had so much unspent love and tenderness inside that she thought she would burst. But there was no one in the whole Hogwarts who would give her butterflies in her stomach or even look at them twice. Ginny always told her that eventually Hermione would find her love just like she did. A celebrity pop-singer Stubby Boardman used to sing that love hides behind every corner. Well, she must be walking in circles then, because she hasn’t found it yet.

She drifted away from her thoughts at the sound of the clock that chimed lunch-time. The Gryffindors followed each other out of the hole behind the portrait. Hermione was making a mental list of things she had to do that day as she was walking down the numerous stairs towards the Great Hall for lunch. When she sat down at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Harry weren’t there yet, probably still practicing on the field. She was munching on a piece of chicken, still thinking about the essay on the History of Magic she had to finish, and then she had to do some reading for this Arithmancy project…

“A sickle for your thoughts,” Ron’s voice brought her back from her reverie.

“Oh, hi Ron,” she smiled at her friend. “How was the Quidditch practice?”

“Good,” he smiled widely, as he helped himself to a dish of chicken, “we practiced three different techniques for each house we are going to play against. We worked especially hard on the tactics against Slytherin. Those poor bastards don’t stand a chance, now that Harry is our captain.” He glared at the Slytherin table.

Hermione laughed. Harry and the rest of the team soon joined them at the table. The conversation soon led back to Quidditch and Hermione drifted back to her thoughts about the studying plans. She finished her meal and decided to go to the library, where she could indulge in reading.

“Guys, I’m going to the library for a while,” she informed them.

They nodded, but she doubted they even heard her as they were having a heated discussion about the advantages of the new Comet 3000 advertised in the last issue of “Which Broomstick?”

“Boys!” Hermione muttered under her breath as she ascended the moving marble stairs towards the library.

Once she was there, she decided to start with the most difficult assignment – her Arithmancy project. Hermione wired in this activity with zeal and soon piles of heavy books covered every inch of free space on her desk. She checked her bibliography list and found out that there was yet another book to look for in the library – ‘Decoding Arithmancy Charts. Advanced Level’ by Melinda Crass. She got up and scanned the rows of books in the Arithmancy section. At last she spotted the book she was looking for. She reached the uppermost shelf for the thick folio, but the book was too high. She didn’t dare use the Accio spell, as the books on the shelf looked very ancient and they fitted so close to each other. Madam Pince would probably make her do boring chores for the rest of her life, if these books collapsed. She was about to get the levitating ladder, when a tall figure appeared before her. She looked up and saw Terry Boot, a boy from the Ravenclaw House in the same year as her.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, flashing a charming smile, as he handed her the book.

Hermione blinked. Was she hallucinating, or was this handsome Ravenclaw really smiling at her? If she didn’t know that there was no one behind her, she could swear that this smile was meant for someone else. Someone like Cho Chang or Marietta Edgecomb.

“Oh thanks,” she managed to say as she took the book from him.

“You are welcome!” he smiled again, before leaving.

Hermione still stood in the aisle between high bookcases, stunned and confused. Terry Boot was almost flirting with her! Hermione didn’t consider herself ugly, but she was surprised, nevertheless.

“Well, didn’t you say just this morning, you wished you had a boyfriend?” teased a small voice at the back of her mind.

“But not Terry Boot!” she almost shouted it out loud.

She ignored that little voice in her head and set to work on her project with even more enthusiasm. With pinpoint accuracy she drew a chart after chart; a pile of parchment grew in front of her. She had been desperately trying to find a very important piece of information in the reference book when she got distracted. Two tables ahead of her the bosom friends, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were giggling over some book in a fancy leather bind. Some wizard with a stylish goatee was moving on the cover and winking at the girls. Hermione squinted to see the title of the book. In the curvy golden letters it read: Viridian Vindictus – Curse and Countercurse (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More). Hermione snorted. She couldn’t believe someone would actually read such rubbish. She went back to her reading, but realized that she couldn’t concentrate anymore. She glanced at her wrist-watch – she had been working for almost four hours in a row! No wonder she felt so tired.

She shoved the books and various pieces of parchment in her schoolbag and left the library. The corridors were dark and gave her an eerie feeling as she walked briskly, trying not to stumble upon a missing step in the stairs and, moreover, to avoid Peeves with his dirty tricks. At last she reached the Gryffindor Tower.

“Password?” asked the Fat Lady.

“Tripe toffee,” she answered.

The portrait swung open and Hermione climbed in. As a contrast to the murky dark corridors, the Gryffindor common room was warm and cozy. It was almost empty, except for a few giggling second-years, who were unsuccessfully trying to perform the reductor curse on someone’s pet. Then she spotted Ron next to the fire-place. Smiling, she approached her friend, who was laboring over his essay, with the tip of his quill in his mouth.

“Hey, Ron. Do you need any help?” she asked as she settled herself down in the armchair next to him.

“Oh well, yeah, actually I need some help,” he admitted.

“This essay is due tomorrow, isn’t it?” Hermione frowned, looking at the blank piece of parchment in front of him.

“Yes.”

“Ron, you have to start taking your studies seriously,” she began saying.

Ron just rolled his eyes. “Do you want to help or do you want to read me another lecture?” he asked impatiently.

Hermione took pity on him and started to explain the theory.

* * *

The trio was sitting at the table in the Great Hall the next morning. It was Monday, and like all Mondays this one was going to be hard and long. Hermione was reading The Daily Prophet while chewing on her scrambled eggs. From time to time she would raise her brows and shake her head. Curious, Harry and Ron peeked in. On two pages was an interview with Cornelius Fudge on the occasion of the official visit of the Albanian Minister for Magic to England. In the photo made by Bozo (The Daily Prophet’s celebrated photographer) Cornelius Fudge looked very pompous and kept frowning.

“Oh that!” Ron drawled. “Really, what’s all the fuss about?” Then he grinned. “I heard from Mum and Dad that Percy has been practically living at the Ministry lately, with all his very important tasks!”

The boys grinned at each other. Hermione frowned at them, but there was a small smile twitching the corners of her mouth.

“We should really hurry up or we’ll be late for class!” Hermione nudged them a few minutes later.

“What do we have now, by the way? Oh no,” Ron growled as he looked at his timetable, “We've got double potions with Slytherin now!”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Hermione, exasperated.

Panting, the three friends barely made it to the class on time. Professor Snape entered the dungeon some moments later, his usual black robes flowing behind him. He gave everyone a glance that boded no good. Hermione heard Neville gulp.

In his usual snarling voice, Professor Snape addressed the class.

“Today you shall be preparing the Draught of Peace. You should have read the corresponding pages in your books.” With a swish of his wand he made the list of ingredients and instructions appear on the blackboard. “You may begin.”

Hermione was crushing hellebore, while trying to hear what Ron was whispering to her and Harry. This had something to do with dishonest practices of some members of the Ministry and it was of great importance to the Order. Ron happened to overhear his father speaking with Tonks about it. Like her friends, she was eager to help the Order in every way she could, especially after what happened to Sirius last year. She was just sharing her point of view with Ron, when she heard the bellowing voice of Snape.

“Miss Granger, if you think that my class is not important, you might as well leave. I will not tolerate such negligent attitude towards my subject from anyone!”

Snape’s criticism of her was always unjust and she learned to ignore it. Surprisingly, he didn’t take any points off their house. She decided not to tempt him any further and broke off the conversation.

After what seemed like forever, the class was dismissed and a very relieved Hermione quickly shoved her books in her bag and hurried to the door. Ron and Harry ran away to check the owlery before the History of Magic class. She was about to make her exit, when someone blocked her way. Hermione groaned inwardly. Draco Malfoy was approaching her with his sidekicks Crabbe and Goyle following him behind.

“So Granger, why are you alone? Where are your loyal bodyguards, Potty and Weasel?” he sneered. “Remind me, which one is your boyfriend again? It’s that poverty-stricken Weasley, I assume, since the famous Potter is taken by that Ravenclaw seeker. Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to go out with him? How insensitive of him to dump you like that!” Malfoy smirked and Crabbe and Goyle grinned in agreement.

“Drop dead, Malfoy!” murmured Hermione through gritted teeth.

“Granger, Granger,” he clicked his tongue, “where are your manners? Being the Prefect, you should watch yourself. What kind of role model are you for the rest of us?”

“Oh I highly doubt that you need one!” she snapped, shoving past him.

His cold derisive laughter resounded behind her. Oh how she wished she didn’t have to see him ever again! Her life would be just perfect. Actually he would do everyone a huge favour by disappearing and never coming back again. But she just didn’t see that happen, so she would just have to put up with him. Two more years and then it would be over, she comforted herself. She wondered if she would be able to stand his presence for so long, before killing him with her bare hands. Stupid conceited prat! With these blood-thirsty thoughts Hermione made her way to Professor Binns’ class.

The class started only five minutes ago, but Ron was already almost dozing off to the boring screed of professor Binns about some revolution started by goblins in the thirteenth century or maybe by elves in the sixteenth century. He couldn’t tell. He scrawled something on his piece of parchment from time to time, so that Hermione wouldn’t pick on him. What’s the point in listening, if Hermione takes notes and she will let her friends use them anyway? He yawned and glanced sideways. Hermione was neatly recording all the information. Ron turned away and looked out of the window. The sun was shining so brightly and it was unusually warm for September. Instead of sitting here, he could be flying on his broom high above the Quidditch field. He was just picturing himself soar in the skies with his hair ruffled by warm gushes of autumn wind, when Hermione elbowed him, frowning. Ron rolled his eyes at her and started to scribble down some dates.

“Harry, Ron!” Hermione chided at dinner. “You should study harder, you know. That is, if you still want to become Aurors. If you remember, to become an Auror, you must gain at least five NEWTs with grades no lower than ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in subjects including: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms! And both of you are practically flunking Potions!”

“Well, that is Snape’s fault. I can’t help it,” said Ron defensively.

“Maybe then we could spend extra hours on that. See, I could help you-”

“Of course, Hermione! It’ll be great!” Harry interrupted her. “Now, can we talk about something else besides studying?”

“Fine! Fail your NEWTs, I don’t care!” she remarked angrily before turning to talk to Ginny and Dean.

After the dinner she sneaked into the library again. She really wanted to finish her homework, but she didn’t fancy Ron and Harry making fun of her again.

When she was back in the common room she found a very agitated group of students glued to the notice-board. Curious, she walked closer and saw that a new Quidditch roster appeared, announcing the first game of the year - Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. The Gryffindor team players, with Harry and Ron among them, were already there, whispering conspiratorially and making plans for the upcoming game.

Hermione smiled to herself. Things were going to be just fine. And while no one would forget what happened before the summer holidays, their life was about to get back on tracks.

_____________________________________

A/N: here’s the first chapter for you all. Please leave a review! If you thought that it was somewhat uneventful, I promise it’ll get better soon. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that Melinda Crass and her book ‘Decoding Arithmancy Charts. Advanced Level’ are purely my invention. R&R!

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: Some of you made a good point: there was barely any interaction between Harry and Hermione in the last chapter. I should have explained it in the beginning. I just intended this to be an opening chapter, where I wanted to write about Hermione’s inner world. I tried to portray her as true to canon as possible, as in terms of obsessed with studying and being bossy, and yet she’s desperate to love and be loved. And before I knew it, the chapter had gotten way too long. So I just cut it there. That was stupid, I know! But I’m planning to make this long, so things will evolve slowly. So basically, if you want a short romantic story, where the characters are making out by the end of the second paragraph, you shouldn’t read it.

And ignore my poor verb tenses and such. Kat, who used to beta my novel-length fic (D/Hr), can no longer do that for me, since she’s busy writing her thesis (which I should be doing too, instead of wasting my time on fanfiction), so I’m just doing without. And I can’t be bothered to get another beta. So, there.

Okay, enough babbling, on with the story…

CHAPTER TWO

Misunderstood

Harry sat up in bed and smiled. Quidditch! He yearned after the regular Quidditch matches. Though now, when he became the captain, he felt slightly nervous, because he was responsible for the outcome of the games. But they had been training very hard ever since the school year began, so he set all his fears aside and made up his mind to win. He got out of bed and shivered from the cold – it was too early in the morning and the Hogwarts elves hadn’t lit the fire in the fireplaces. Harry glanced around the dark bedroom and saw that everyone was sound asleep. On a moving poster that Seamus Finnigan had above his bed Aidan Lynch, Seeker for the Irish national Quidditch team, smiled broadly, gripping the golden snitch. Harry silently wished that he was as lucky today.

He walked over to Ron’s bed and shook him, but his ginger-haired friend remained motionless.

“Hey, wake up, sleepy head!” he yelled in Ron’s ear.

“What?” Ron sat up with a start and saw Harry’s grinning face above him. “What is it, Harry? Are you daft, waking me up so early on a Saturday morning?!” he sounded very annoyed.

“Well, we have a Quidditch game to get to, but if you don’t want to come, we’ll get a substitute Keeper,” Harry said calmly.

Ron’s face lit at the mention of Quidditch, but soon fell at Harry’s last words.

“Of course, I’m coming,” he growled, getting out of bed.

“Good,” Harry said, still grinning at his friend.

After they had a bite at the Great Hall, Ron and Harry headed for the Quidditch field. Luckily for them, the weather had cleared up and looked very promising. They were, however, not the only ones who enjoyed it.

When Hermione looked out of her bedroom window upon waking up, a smile crept up her face. The sky was clear, without a single cloud on it. Today would be the first Quidditch match of the year and she wanted to be there to cheer up her fellow Gryffindors. She especially wanted to give her support to Harry, who was the new captain. She was so proud of him! He was slightly nervous for the past weeks, working on complicated tactics, but Hermione knew that there was no call to worry and Harry would pull off this job as brilliantly as anything he did.

She quickly dressed and ran down for breakfast. The Great Hall was abundant with excited students, reminding her of other mornings before the Quidditch matches. She joined the others at the table and started eating her porridge, occasionally joining in the conversations around her. When Hermione finished her breakfast, she headed towards the entrance hall and then ran out of the castle. She smiled, breathing in the fresh crisp air through her nostrils. The day was beautiful indeed.

When she reached the Gryffindor stands, she took her place between her friends. She glanced at the opposite stands, which was a whirl of yellow and black. The upper rows were filled with overly enthusiastic Hufflepuffs. They were all wearing their yellow-black striped scarves and they even held up a banner with a black badger against the yellow background. The inscription above it read GO HUFFLEPUFF!!! in huge letters that were magically charmed to change colour.

Lavender and Parvati, who were sitting next to Hermione, could not take their eyes from the players on the field.

“This is so exciting, isn’t it, Hermione?” Lavender squealed, trying to fix her binoculars.

“Yes, I have a feeling that it’s going to be a great game,” she agreed, glancing at the delighted spectators on all four stands.

She then looked down to the ground, squinting to see her friends. She could make out the fiery red hair of Ron and Ginny and raven-black, rustled hair of Harry. She waved to them and they waved back. Hermione sat back and prepared for the signal of Madam Hooch that would start the game.

Now that Lee Jordan was gone, the games were not the same anymore. Thomas Moon from Ravenclaw took over his duties of the commentator, but everyone missed the passionate and humorous comments of Lee. As a matter of fact she missed the other team members too. Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell were fantastic Chasers, whose cooperation yielded some brilliant results. But more than that she missed seeing Fred and George – not only irreplaceable Beaters, but her very good friends who always spiced up the atmosphere at Hogwarts. Despite that she was happy, because Ginny and Ron were now on the team and Harry was the captain.

Finally, at the signal of Madam Hooch, the players mounted their broomsticks and soared in the air. Hermione squinted at Harry, who winged his way between the hoops far away in the distance. Moon’s remarks, whose voice was magnified by the sonorous charm, resounded over the field.

Very soon the game reached a very exciting point and the spectators gaped at the players who whizzed the air, trying to avoid bludgers and sending red quaffles through the hoops. The score was 50-30 and Gryffindor was leading so far. The crowd around Hermione cheered and saluted the Gryffindor players as they zoomed about on their brooms. She kept turning her head, trying to follow Harry’s moves. Up till now Harry soared above the teams, unnoticed. Whether he spotted the snitch, no one knew, but Hermione believed that he was just feigning his failure to fool Sommersby, who was always at his heels.

At one point he slowed down, as he noticed the gleaming snitch beneath him. He was looking down at it and didn’t see Zachariah Smith, the Hufflepuff Chaser, who was flying in his direction and was too fast to change his trajectory. The crash was unavoidable and Hermione gasped and closed her eyes in fear. But curiosity got the best of her and she opened them again. She saw Harry take a steep turn to avoid the other player. Smith was trying to do the same and, dropping the speed to the minimum, fell a few meters before he righted himself again. As a result he missed the quaffle and Ron scored a goal. Gryffindor was now ahead by the score of 70-40. The roaring Gryffindor stands were ecstatic and Hermione thought she would literally go deaf. But she couldn’t contain her smile at seeing Harry safe and sound, still on top of his broom. She only now realized that her heart was beating very fast and her face was flushed. She glanced at Parvati and Lavender, but to her relief they hadn’t noticed anything. But of course she was worried about Harry. He was her best friend. Her friend. And he had a history of Quidditch-induced injuries.

After his near fiasco, Harry decided to be more careful. After a series of intricate maneuvers he honed in on the snitch. He almost grabbed it and another cheer rose among the crowds. The elusive golden ball was always out of his reach, teasing him and making him giddy. Finally, when Hufflepuff scored another goal and Sommersby got distracted, Harry dove and closed his fingers on the snitch, in the process nearly falling off his broom again. The red and gold stands shook with loud and prolonged applause.

Harry dropped the speed and came into sight gripping the snitch in his right hand, his green eyes twinkling behind the spectacles.

“And Harry Potter managed to catch the snitch! Congratulations Gryffindor!” bellowed the voice of Thomas Moon, before he undid the spell by saying ‘Quietus’.

Like an avalanche, the Gryffindor crowd poured down into the pitch. Harry flew closer, trying to look for Hermione, and when he spotted her, he waved at her. She laughed and waved back.

She was elbowing her way through the crowd towards him, when she saw something that made her stop. A Gryffindor fourth-year student, who Hermione knew by the name of Alice Whitaker, sauntered up to Harry and supported her ardent congratulations with a long kiss on his cheek. Harry blushed and a goofy grin was plastered on his face. He immediately agreed to pose for a photo and even signed it for her.

Hermione’s face fell. She couldn’t believe that this was Harry. He was oblivious to everything around him, allowing people to hug him and shake his hand. Not even once did he turn around and tried to look for her. No, he was too busy being popular. He hadn’t even noticed that she wasn’t there. Her lip quivering, she turned away, disgusted and hurt, and stomped through the crowd. She was leaving the Quidditch field with an unpleasant feeling in her heart that she could not explain.

She quickly walked across the corridors of the empty castle and then ran upstairs to her room. Once there, she slammed the door and threw her cloak on the floor. She marched to the window and peered at the Quidditch field that was still crowded with students. Harry was there, as usually being the centre of attention. Colin Creevey was talking pictures of him and everyone else was tugging at his sleeve, asking for an autograph. Angrily, Hermione pulled the curtains shut and threw herself on her bed.

“Harry Potter!” she mimicked the squealing voices of his fans. “Can I have your picture?”

“Oh, Harry! Can you sign my book?”

“Well, guess what?!” she pounded her fist on the poster of her bed. “I’m not going to wait in line to ask for your stupid picture! And I’m not going to worry about you when you fall off your broom! You can break your neck, see if I care!”

Tears gushed from her eyes and she buried her head in the pillow. Soon she heard the hooting Gryffindors in the common room, but didn’t leave her room to join them.

While everyone in the common room was celebrating, a very dazed Harry was sprawling on the couch. He was tired – his body was still sore from the game and from being pushed and pulled by the crazed students. All he wanted right now was to crawl inside his bed and sleep. He looked around the room where his agitated friends were still sharing their impressions of the game. He had a feeling that something wasn’t right. He looked around again. There, in the corner, were Ron, Ginny and Neville, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He remembered that she disappeared right after the game and for the first time in six years didn’t even come up to congratulate him. He felt a twinge of disappointment. He wanted her to be there and celebrate with him. He really missed her. Why was she hiding then? Maybe she was ill? Yes, she must be, he thought to himself, because why else would she be staying away from him?

Revelry after the game with butterbeer and smuggled fire-whisky continued deep into the night until aggravated Professor McGonagall came and ordered them to go to their dorms, or she would annul the results of the match.

To the huge annoyance of the Hufflepuffs, the euphoria went on for many days.

* * *

While some people at Hogwarts celebrated the victory and the others couldn’t hide their disappointment, Hermione Granger was lying on her bed, staring at the red-gold canopy above her head. She was thinking about Harry Potter, who she’d been skillfully avoiding for two days. Once or twice she caught Harry’s astonished look, but refused to talk to him. And he didn’t say anything to her either. In those moments when she missed him the most, she told herself that she was just being childish. What’s the big deal? He was Harry Potter and he was popular since he was a baby. But whenever she thought of that girl, she was aboil with indignation, which she couldn’t even explain. She wasn’t jealous, was she? Of course, she wasn’t. She was just angry that he preferred the company of some stranger to that of his best friend. And what’s worse, she never saw him look that excited when she offered her congratulations in the past.

The next morning at breakfast Hermione was talking to Harry again. Or at least she tried to. Neither of them mentioned her strange behaviour and Harry was willing to forgive and forget. Even when she started lecturing him about his talent for procrastination when it came to his Potions homework, he was still tremendously happy. At least she talked to him.

Just when Hermione thought that their fragile peace was restored, the hell broke loose again. The girl who gave Harry a kiss after the match passed them by and waved enthusiastically at him. He grinned and waved back.

“That girl, Alice, she’s pretty, isn’t she?” Hermione ventured to ask, boring her eyes into him.

Harry shrugged. “She’s okay.”

“Just okay?!” she thought angrily. “You wouldn’t be smiling like an idiot, if she was just ‘okay’!”

She dashed down a glass of pumpkin juice, grabbed a toast and was off to the library without saying a word to Harry.

“What’s got into her now?” he thought, surprised.

“Do you know why Hermione has been so distressed lately?” he asked Ron.

“Oh, don’t bother,” Ron said dismissively. “She probably got an ‘outstanding’ instead of an ‘exceeds expectation’ for her essay. You know, the usual.”

But Harry couldn’t believe that her mood swings had anything to do with school work.

When Harry entered the common room that evening, he saw Hermione transformed again. She smiled at him and even let him copy her homework, which she had never done before. But he could feel that her attitude was still a bit chilly. He watched her intently, still unable to understand why Hermione was so upset. Was it something he or Ron did? Suddenly he heard her sigh. He turned around and gave her an inquisitive look.

“Hermione? Are you all right?” he asked cautiously.

Her head shot up. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Never mind.”

And she buried her head in a pile of scrolls. Harry glanced at Ron, but he just shrugged and rolled his eyes. It wasn’t until he asked her a seemingly innocent question that he found out what it was like to be on the receiving end of her wrath.

“I seriously don’t get this, Hermione,” he said, pointing to an underlined passage in the book. “Will you just explain it one more time?”

But Hermione didn’t acknowledge his question.

“Hermione?” Ron called out again.

“What?” she barked.

“I asked you a question and you didn’t even hear me. What’s wrong with you, anyway? You’ve been acting really strangely lately.”

“Stop asking me all these stupid questions!” she shouted at gaping Ron. “I don’t have to tell you anything! And it’s about bloody time you learned to do your homework without my assistance!”

With this she stormed out of the room and ran upstairs to her bedroom. Ron and Harry exchanged perplexed looks. They still continued to stare at Hermione’s retreating back, when Ginny entered the common room and sat next to them.

“Hi guys,” she greeted them. “Something I’ve missed?” she asked, seeing their expressions.

“Say, Ginny, did Hermione talk to you about something recently?” asked Ron, who was though genuinely hurt by Hermione’s last remark, couldn’t deny that she was right.

“No, why?” his sister looked at him surprised.

“She’s not quite herself lately, throwing tantrums and all. I thought that maybe she told you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she uttered thoughtfully and then came up with a traditional response. “Maybe it’s too much homework. She spends all her free time in the library. I wouldn’t be surprised if she sleeps there.”

Again someone told him that homework accounted for Hermione’s odd behaviour, but Harry didn’t buy it. What if something happened to her and she didn’t tell anyone? He had to find out, but right now he’d rather handle a Blast-ended Screwt. Harry sighed and went back to work on his Potions essay.

Hermione plopped down on her bed, gritting her teeth. Crookshanks jumped down from an armchair and came leisurely over to her. Absentmindedly, Hermione ran her fingers through his thick hair.

“Hey Crookshanks,” she muttered, all anger slowly deflating out of her, like air from a balloon. “I think I feel something towards Harry, which I’m not supposed to feel. What do you think I should do?”

Crookshanks lifted his slightly crumpled face and looked at her. Hermione frowned.

“That’s ridiculous! He’s my best friend! You don’t really think…?”

The cat just meowed and rubbed his ginger head against her legs.

“Oh why am I talking to a cat? Too bad you can’t talk, Crookshanks,” she sighed. “I really need an advice.”

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: Finally, Endlessly is completed now and I can turn my attention back to this story. So, this is chapter three. Please forgive me, if this chapter seems a bit patchy and the POV changes are confusing!

CHAPTER THREE

He loves me, he loves me not

Harry and Hermione were sitting in the Common Room on a Saturday morning, doing their homework. Well, Hermione was doing hers and Harry just pretended he was doing his too. Outside, it was warm and sunbeams penetrated high windows and danced across the yellowed scrolls of parchment. Hermione just ignored them, but Harry followed them longingly with his eyes. He really wanted to get out and enjoy the sunny day, and it was Saturday for crying out loud! But he reckoned that Hermione simply would not understand. And he didn’t want to hurt her feelings again, as he was quite happy with the status quo. But with every passing minute the alluring sunbeams were becoming harder to ignore.

“Hey, Harry! Let’s go play Quidditch!” Ron shouted, barging into the Common Room.

Hermione pursed her lips in disapproval. “You know, Ron,” she started cautiously, “I don’t think this is wise. You should be studying now. Remember, you got a ‘poor’ for your last Transfiguration essay.”

Ron turned to her, grinning. “Still better than a ‘dreadful’, isn’t it?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned away from him indignantly. Ron merely shrugged and went upstairs to get his Quidditch attire. Harry, who successfully ignored the voice of conscience in his head, smiled at her apologetically and followed his friend, nearly leaping up with joy.

Hermione sighed. After working off her bad temper on them last week, she realized that they didn’t deserve it. She found them next morning and apologized profusely. She noted that Harry looked immensely relieved. Poor Harry, after all it wasn’t his fault that she fell in love with him and got jealous.

A week had passed and everything seemed normal between Harry and Hermione.

But once Hermione admitted to herself that she was in love with Harry, not only did her relationship with him become strained, but she also found it hard to concentrate during the lessons, which never happened to her before. She spent a good deal of time day-dreaming or doodling in her notebook. And she tried very hard not to stare at him all the time, lest he should suspect anything.

Transfixed, Hermione stared at the page before her. Her body stayed behind in the stuffy classroom, but her mind was far away in the land of dreams. There, she imagined that Harry finally saw her as a girl, and not only as a hardworking student and a loyal friend. He fell madly in love with her and they were destined to be together forever…

Professor McGonagall coughed twice, then again, this time louder. Hermione startled and looked up. Professor frowned at her, but didn’t say anything and didn’t even take points off Gryffindor. Hermione was grateful for that. The last thing she needed right now was losing points for her house. Till the end of the lesson she tried to focus on what she was reading.

At dinner, Harry was stealthily observing Hermione. While she wondered if her femininity escaped him, Harry was trying to convince himself that Hermione was in fact his best friend, had been for years, and that it was really a misfortune that she happened to be a girl. Why couldn’t she be a bloke like Ron, with whom he could feel at ease, just talking or playing chess? Why did she have to be a girl, and especially such an attractive and loveable kind?

They would both be very much surprised if they ever got to hear each other’s thoughts, but meanwhile Hermione sighed all the time and Harry racked his brains, trying to figure out the riddle that was Hermione Granger.

“I think, it’s Krum,” Harry said thoughtfully, waiting for Ron’s move.

“Huh?” Ron asked, looking up from the chessboard.

“I think,” Harry repeated, “something happened between Hermione and Krum. That’s why she was so cranky.”

Ron stared at him, perplexed. He himself stopped worrying about it since Hermione was her old self again and saved him from failing all his subjects. But he couldn’t help notice that Harry was very pensive lately, throwing furtive glances at Hermione. Ron just shrugged and they resumed their game.

That evening Ron entered the Common Room, loaded with a pile of books, and tried to camouflage another of his requests for help under small talk.

“Hey, Hermione!” he said cheerfully, as he strolled over to where she was sitting. “What are you doing?”

“The same thing you should be doing,” she muttered, without even looking up from her book, “revising for the tests.”

With sinking heart Ron pictured his mother’s disappointed face as she finds out that he failed all his exams and had to say goodbye to his promising career as an Auror. For his own sake, and for the sake of his two best friends, he added as an afterthought, he had to find out what was eating Hermione. For now he ploughed through a book on the History of Magic, waiting for a good moment.

“It’s Krum, isn’t it?” he suddenly blurted out, when he couldn’t wait any longer.

“What?” Hermione gave him a surprised look.

“The reason why you’ve been really weird lately,” Ron explained, preparing himself for an angry outburst from Hermione.

“Viktor and I broke up,” Hermione said quietly after a pause.

“Oh?” was all he managed to say, but he looked so happy, as if Christmas was coming earlier.

You won’t be as happy when you find out that I’m infatuated with your best friend, Hermione thought.

“And it’s not because of him. I’m just tired,” she added.

Satisfied with an explanation, Ron nodded and began to plan out his essay.

“So, how is that essay coming along?” Hermione asked him, as she scanned her notes.

When she didn’t get an answer, she looked up and saw Ron staring at something behind her. Hermione traced his gaze and saw Dean and Ginny cuddling on one of the sofas in the corner. Ron looked awry at the couple and Hermione couldn’t help smiling.

“Ron, she isn’t your baby sister anymore,” she said softly.

He turned to face her.

“I know, but…” he stuttered.

“You don’t trust Dean?” she asked tentatively.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that she’s still very young and silly and she doesn’t know what’s right and what’s wrong. I’m just protecting her,” he finished lamely.

“Oh, Ron!” said Hermione, exasperated.

He frowned and returned to his homework, indicating the end of conversation. But Hermione didn’t take her eyes off Ginny and Dean. She felt a pang of jealousy, when she saw them holding hands, kissing and whispering something sweet in each other’s ear, something very intimate that wasn’t meant for others. They didn’t need other people, they were happy in the isolation of their little bubble. With great difficulty, she looked away.

When Hermione at last approved of his essay, Ron left the Common Room to look for Harry and tell him that Hermione’s tantrums had nothing to do with that oaf of her Bulgarian boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, he corrected himself happily.

As he expected, he found Harry on the Astronomy Tower, which had become his ‘ivory tower’ recently.

“Harry, mate,” Ron puffed, after running up the stairs, “I’ve got terrific news for you!”

Harry was all ears.

“Looks like Hermione chucked Vicky,” he beamed.

“That’s very good news,” Harry grinned.

If Harry was alone, he would have danced a little jig on the spot, but of course he couldn’t do that now, with Ron staring at him. His heart was drumming a paradiddle. He was excited and frightened at the same time. He wasn’t sure what he should do: try to comfort Hermione, if she was upset about the break-up, or pretend that nothing happened. Or let her know how he felt about her. He wished that Sirius was alive to help him with his ‘girl trouble’ again.

Meanwhile, Hermione was still sitting in the Common Room, wondering how Harry would react to the announcement of her break-up with Viktor. She knew that both Ron and Harry were curious as to what was happening between her and the distinguished Bulgarian seeker. When Ron left, she knew that he was dying to share that news with Harry. And now she hoped that he would take a hint. Maybe he hadn’t taken the first step, because he thought that she wasn’t available? She felt that she had to unbosom herself to somebody, or she would explode because of the overwhelming emotions. Preferably to someone who could talk back.

* * *

Harry watched her out of the corner of his eye. It was so hard not to look. He was always making excuses just to be with her, to look at her and maybe accidentally touch her, if he was lucky.

How did it happen? They’ve been friends for so many years. He didn’t even remember the exact moment when he realized what his true feelings for her were. Maybe he always loved her, subconsciously. When she smiled at him like she did, he forgot who or what he was.

When Hermione got up from her seat and proceeded to the Ravenclaw table, Harry watched her curiously. The optimistic girl that she was, she never abandoned her S.P.E.W. campaign and now she was cajoling the Ravenclaws into becoming members of the organization, while distributing the badges to the willing students.

Some of them, like Luna Lovegood, accepted them eagerly and pinned them to their robes. Others, like Padma Patil, took them less willingly, out of sympathy for Hermione, but not caring at all about her project. The rest just plainly refused and even laughed at her idealistic plans. Terry Boot, however, who had never shared her enthusiasm and never showed any interest in it at all, as Harry noted to himself with surprise, took a handful of the luminous badges and even went as far as to officially sign her members’ book. He was all smiles to her, and Harry saw her blush at his lavish attention. Harry’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, when Terry took her hand and asked her to join their table. Hermione was in her element again, talking about her large-scale liberation of house elves. She blushed and giggled nervously, when Terry nodded and expressed his support.

When that git laughed and whispered something in her ear, Harry’s fists balled and he had an insuppressible impulse to break that guy’s neck. What the heck was he thinking, flirting with Hermione like that? And was Hermione completely blind? Did she really think that he was genuinely interested in S.P.E.W.? Harry doubted that he heard a word she was saying; all he did was ogling her! Is that what Hermione wanted? An adoring beau?

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he whispered. “I can’t be just your friend anymore. I can’t pretend any longer that I don’t love you. And obviously, I’m not the kind of guy you need. And if it means that we have to say goodbye, then that’s what it will be.”

Downhearted, he finished his meal and left the Great Hall, not even once looking back at laughing Hermione. In the Common Room he settled in one of the arm-chairs and took out his textbooks. He flipped through the pages, but his mind wasn’t focused on the words in the book.

Harry felt like he was carrying a millstone around his neck. Everyone accounted him a hero, a savior, but he felt so weak and helpless. People would weave tales of his legendary exploits, create a myth about the brilliant Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, a unique phenomenon, and the fancier the stories, the less he recognized himself in that infamous boy. If he was such a hero, why couldn’t he even ask a girl out on a date? Whatever he had with Cho, he botched it, before one could say ‘Quidditch’. Now he was afraid to tell Hermione that he was in love with her, afraid to even look at her properly. If he was such a nice guy everyone talked about, why wasn’t she in love with him then? She didn’t need a fake celebrity, a guy who ruined everything. She wanted someone like that sleek Terry Boot. And Harry Potter didn’t even come close to that.

He heaved a long sigh, forcing himself to focus on the homework he had to finish before tomorrow.

On the sofa, not far away from where Harry was sitting, Ginny was labouring over her homework too. She had noticed Harry’s desolate state and, putting away her books, walked over to him.

“Hey, Harry,” she smiled, plopping into a free arm-chair.

“Ginny,” Harry smiled back, happy to have some kind of distraction from the boring Potions book.

“Are you all right?” she cut to the chase.

“Yes,” he tried to look bright and merry, “of course, I am.”

“You know, I wish you would tell me what’s bothering you, Harry,” she urged him. “I’m sure I can help.”

“You won’t understand,” he said glumly.

“Try me,” she challenged him.

“Well,” he mumbled, passing his hand through his messy hair, “it seems like nothing is working out for me. My grades are average at best and Snape hates my guts. And I’ve got other problems to deal with. Everything is just awful.”

“Actually, I don’t excel at school either,” Ginny replied, as she reached for a gingersnap. “And as for Snape, I don’t think we’ll live to see the day when he actually likes someone.”

“But still you are good at everything,” Harry argued, “and I screw everything up.”

“I’m not good at everything,” she shook her head. “I can’t write poetry.”

He laughed, remembering her abominable singing Valentine that compared his eyes to pickled toads.

“Harry, do you know what your problem is?” Ginny asked.

“What?” he stopped laughing.

“Everyone has too big expectations of you, and you feel like you’re not living up to them. Well, that’s not true. Just look at how much you’ve accomplished so far. You come out of all the battles alive, you protect your friends, and more importantly, you are such a tough opponent that you manage to keep Voldemort at bay.”

“I do?” Harry gaped at her.

“Of course, if it was a piece of cake for him, he would be done with you long ago. And now he has to gather all his forces at least for a year, before he tries anything with you. That just goes to show how good you are.”

“I never thought about it that way,” Harry mumbled, utterly confused.

“Well, now you will,” Ginny smiled. “And whatever you were worried about, I’m sure it’s nothing compared to this. Now, pluck up your courage and resolve that problem of yours.”

“Thanks, Ginny,” he grinned.

“You are welcome,” she patted him on the shoulder and went back to her sofa.

The pep talk with Ginny did its magic, and Harry felt a lot better. She was right; he should go to Hermione and just tell her how he felt. What’s the worst that could happen? Okay, she would say that she loved as him as a friend and that sort of things, but it’s not the end of the world. As Ginny pointed out, it was nothing compared to the hovering doom of death.

As advised, he plucked up his spirits and strolled out of the Common Room, on his way to the library. It was nearly midnight and the corridors of the castle were deserted. He soon reached the library and pushed the doors open. It was dark inside, save for the bright glow of a candle far behind the bookcases. He followed the light and came upon Hermione. Hermione, who was perusing thick dusty folios, didn’t hear him come in. He coughed slightly in order to alert her to his presence.

“Harry? What are you doing here? It’s long past curfew!” Hermione cried out from surprise.

“You are not going to take points off me, are you?” he smiled mischievously.

“Of course not,” she huffed. “But don’t just stand there. Sit down.”

She motioned to the chair next to her and Harry sat down at the paper-strewn table.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he said, looking in awe at the mounds of books before him.

“It’s all right, I was finished anyway,” she replied, as she started to gather her things.

Harry helped her to put the books on the shelves.

“Do you have your homework done for tomorrow?” she asked, concerned.

“I just have a Divination essay to write,” he replied unenthusiastically. “But I have no idea what to write in it. And to tell you the truth, I don’t really feel like writing it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hermione chided. “Of course, I’ll help you with it. You can’t afford to flunk Divination.”

“But, Hermione,” he stuttered. “You are not even taking Divination!”

“Nonsense,” she brushed away his anxiety. “You never read any of the books she tells you to read and yet you are perfectly able to predict your own future, aren’t you? So can I. I always told you that she was a fraud.”

Harry didn’t argue with that. He hoped that Hermione would at least come up with something creative, because his own death sentence (that’s what Trelawney wanted to see) didn’t look realistic enough.

“So, what book are you using?” she asked as she got up and went to the bookcase.

“The Future is in Your Hands by Delphine Bouchonnet,” Harry sighed. “We are doing palmistry now.”

“Oh, how exciting!” Hermione said, jokingly.

“Well, I suppose it’s a nice difference from staring at your own reflection in a crystal ball,” Harry snorted.

Hermione opened the book and found the corresponding chapter.

“Here,” she pointed, “they give all the necessary guidelines, you just follow them.”

Harry scanned the chapter and began on his essay, consulting with the book from time to time.

“So, what do you have so far?” Hermione peeked over his shoulder

“Nothing,” he sighed. “Besides the fact that my life line is alarmingly short.”

Hermione laughed at his eagerness to please Professor Trelawney.

“Well, why don’t you focus on the nearest future,” she suggested.

Half-heartedly, Harry stared at his hand again.

“I can’t read anything off mine,” he complained. “Can I see your hand? She won’t know, as long as it’s macabre enough.”

“All right,” she agreed and gave him her right hand.

He took her hand in his and observed it carefully. Hermione felt herself melt, as he studied the lines of her palm. His hands were strong and masculine, and whenever he traced the lines and marks with his finger, she’d stop breathing.

As soon as Harry took her small hand in his, his heart began to beat twice as hard. He had done it on purpose, of course. He wasn’t interested in the patterns on the palm of her hand; he just wanted to hold it. How he wished that she would react half as cheery, as when Terry Boot was holding hers, all the time gawking at her stupidly. He suddenly had a strong, overwhelming urge to cover her tanned hand with kisses.

Without a warning, Hermione jerked back her hand and got up swiftly, startling Harry.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, hoisting her back on her shoulder. “It’s late, I should be going. See you in the morning.”

And with that she left the library. Harry could not comprehend what he had done to elicit such response from Hermione. He was afraid that somehow she guessed his heart’s secret desires and it made her feel uncomfortable. She didn’t love him back and she was too kind to reject him.

Dejectedly, he gathered his quills and parchment and plodded out of the library.

In the darkness of her bedroom, Hermione slid under the blankets and closed the hangings around her. Tears stained her face and she pressed her hand to her mouth, for fear of sobbing out loud and waking the other girls. She pulled the blanket over her head and cried softly into her pillow.

She did the right thing, when she pulled away her hand. She was afraid that she would let out a moan of pleasure any minute and scare Harry. His gentle fingers drove her mad and she would have lost her head there. But, thank Merlin, she gathered her wits in time. She was just fooling herself – he wasn’t even remotely interested in her. He was Harry Potter, he had throngs of girls after him, who literally worshipped him. They were funny, pretty, and Hermione realized acutely that she hardly stood a chance to ever be noticed by him.

~~~~~~~~

Extra note: Delphine Bouchonnet is a real person (and she was on the French examination board, when I had my exams last year), and so is Katie Bell, by the way! Turns out they went to Keele University together. It’s in the heart of England, for those who don’t know, somewhere between Manchester and Birmingham. Don’t know what JKR was thinking when she named her character after a real person. And I just followed in her footsteps. LOL!

Disclaimer:

It’s ALL mine! I’m the inventor of the Harry Potter universe!

Love,

JK Rowling.

Hehe, I’m joking, of course. I’m not stupid enough to even pretend that I can ever come up with anything equally brilliant. So, the standard disclaimer applies.

A/N: I know this chapter is a bit short, but I kinda ran out of ideas. So, don’t hate me. Thanks to Pottergirlajg for a positive review! Seeing how impatient you are, this chapter is mainly for you, I guess. Enjoy!

CHAPTER FOUR

Kiss the girl

Hermione woke up, feeling a mass of something soft and warm pressed against her head. Sleepily, she reached out and discovered her beloved pet Crookshanks. She stroked his thick fur. Crookshanks, who was purring happily on her pillow, caught her hand and played with it. Hermione glanced sideways at her watch on the bedside table. It read 07:30. Hermione groaned, lifting her heavy head off the pillow, and forced herself to get out of the warm bed. She yawned as she slowly trudged towards the bathroom. After she showered and dressed in her school robes, she gathered her books and quills and made her way down for breakfast.

In the Common Room she bumped into a very agitated Ron.

“Hermione,” he said, glancing nervously at her, “something just happened.”

“What?” she looked at him suspiciously.

“Harry fell off his broom while playing Quidditch,” he blurted out.

“You were playing Quidditch now???” she was perplexed.

Ron nodded.

“But why did you decide to fly in the morning? Couldn’t you wait till after the classes?” she asked angrily.

“Well, Harry really wanted to try out his new Firebolt,” Ron explained.

“That’s what happens when all you think about is stupid Quidditch!” Hermione roared. Then she rounded to face Ron. “It’s all your fault!” she snarled. “If you cared enough about him, it wouldn’t have happened!”

Ron gaped at her, opening and closing his mouth at intervals, like a fish.

“All right,” she said icily. “I’m off to the hospital wing. And I’m not finished with you, Ron Weasley!” she said before leaving.

Hermione raced to the hospital wing. Frantically looking for Harry, she ran into Professor McGonagall.

“Ah, Miss Granger,” she smiled, “I thought I’d see you here soon.”

“How is Harry?” Hermione asked her, blanching at the thought of broken arms or legs. She was suddenly ashamed of her thoughts after the Quidditch match, when she hoped that he would fracture all his limbs.

“Oh, he’s just unconscious and he hasn’t got any injuries as far as I can tell. Leave it to Madam Pomfrey, she’ll fix him,” Professor told her.

“Thank you, Professor. I’ll just go to see him now.”

She went further with her search for Harry, but was stopped by Madam Pomfrey.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she shook her head, “You can’t see him right now. He’s resting. And he is unconscious anyway.”

“But…” Hermione stuttered.

“I assure you that he’s fine, Miss Granger. He’ll be as good as new soon.”

Unwillingly, Hermione obeyed the nurse’s orders.

“But if you want, you can wait here,” Madam Pomfrey took pity on her.

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled, taking her seat in the nurse’s office.

She had plenty of time till the classes started, and judging by the nurse’s words, Harry should be awake soon. She’d been waiting for an hour, and Madam Pomfrey didn’t have the heart to tell her to leave. Hermione missed the breakfast, but she wasn’t hungry and she was really determined to wait until Harry regained consciousness. Finally, Madam Pomfrey stopped writing in her clipboard and got up.

“I’ll see how our patient is doing. Wait here,” she said and left the office.

She walked along the rows of brass beds, until she found Harry’s. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“You’re awake! Good!” she noted with satisfaction. “By the way, you have a visitor. She’s been waiting here ever since they brought you in.”

Hermione came to see him! Harry immediately felt better and tried to hide his wide grin. He passed his hand through his shaggy hair, combing it as well as he could. Then he pulled the blanket up to his chin and waited for Hermione.

She was ushered in by the nurse. She was shy of approaching him first, so Harry patted the bed and invited her to sit down.

“Hi,” she said timidly. “I thought I’d pop in on my way to class. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t come to see you earlier,” she apologized. “I came here as soon as I got the message, but you know how Madam Pomfrey is about visitations to the ward. She made me wait.”

“I know you’ve been waiting,” he nodded.

“I was so worried,” she smiled awkwardly. “It wasn’t very smart of you to play Quidditch in the morning, Harry. It’s still misty.”

“Yeah, I know that now,” Harry chuckled. “But stop worrying, I’ll be out of here today.”

They relapsed into silence again. Neither knew what to say. Hermione was relieved to see him alive and well, and Harry was happy to see her face when he woke up. Both forgot the awkward moment they had shared in the library last night.

Madam Pomfrey came in suddenly, startling them.

“You need rest,” she turned to Harry, “and you have a class to get to.”

“Can I stay a little longer?” Hermione pleaded.

“All right,” she relented, “five more minutes!”

The nurse left and Hermione looked up at Harry. For the first time in many days she bravely met those dark green eyes. They were full of tenderness and love, she thought with surprise. Harry stared back at her. Her beautiful hazel eyes were locked on his and he didn’t feel nervous. Love for her overwhelmed him. He wanted to swoop her in his arms and kiss those half-opened pink lips.

He leaned forward and stopped, just inches away from her face. She stared at him, unblinkingly. He construed her silence as consent and kissed her tenderly. She returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around him. Their tongs touched, first timidly and then more boldly.

Hermione felt rather light-headed. She couldn’t believe that her dream was coming true. She was kissing Harry! And he was kissing her like it was the only thing he ever needed. Harry couldn’t believe his luck either. There she was, kissing him with such passion. She was kissing him, not some slimy stranger who didn’t even care about her like he did.

The fervent kiss went on and they didn’t even come up for air. They both wanted to prolong this magical moment. They were so engulfed in their mutual passion that the only thing on their minds was each other.

When they broke apart, they just stared at each other. Hermione felt a rush of blood to her cheeks and Harry smiled, seeing her blush so cutely.

“Mr. Potter, the time is up!” called Madam Pomfrey from the corridor.

“I have to go,” Hermione mumbled and ran out of the hospital wing.

When Madam Pomfrey approached his bed, he didn’t even bother to wipe the goofy grin off his face. He didn’t care if she understood what had just happened. He wanted the whole world to know that he kissed Hermione and that he loved her very much. As to her feelings, he was sure that they were the same, or she wouldn’t be kissing him like this. No, he couldn’t be mistaken.

Madam Pomfrey had a hard time persuading Harry to drink a pepper-up potion. He was just too agitated. Nevertheless, he drank the achromatic liquid till the last drop and Madam Pomfrey finally left him alone. When the sleep took over him, he was still grinning.

Meanwhile, Hermione was running down the twisting corridors, not seeing where she was going, until she reached the door with an “OUT OF ORDER” board on it. It was known as the Moaning Myrtle bathroom and no one ever used. She hoped to hide there from everyone and think things over. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She could not fathom what she had just done. She kissed Harry! She must be raving mad!

“This is ridiculous!” she cried out. “I can’t be falling in love with Harry! I just can’t!”

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. The girl she saw there had kiss-swollen lips, her hair was rustled and her cheeks were burning.

“Aha, you’ve been kissing a boy! Look at yourself!” Myrtle shrieked, appearing behind her.

“Myrtle, please, leave me alone,” Hermione said shortly. “I can’t talk right now.”

“No one ever wants to talk to me! Of course, who would want to talk to boring, ugly Myrtle? Everyone has an interesting life, and I have to stay here alone, without any friends!” she blubbered and then disappeared inside one of the cubicles with a big splash.

Hermione couldn’t care less at the moment. She had her own problems to take care of, and she didn’t even know where to begin. She quickly washed her face and ran to her class, barely making it on time.

* * *

“You all right, mate?” Ron asked nervously, approaching Harry’s bed.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, “just a scratch.”

Ron’s face lit up. “Thank Merlin! I thought Hermione would feed me to Manticores, when I told her that you fell off your broom. She blamed me for being a lousy friend and she is still very cross with me.”

“That sounds a lot like Hermione,” Harry chuckled.

“Yeah,” Ron sighed. “So, you’ll be all right then? She’ll let you out today, you think?”

“I hope so. At least there is nothing wrong with me.”

Harry guessed that Ron, who was always hungry, was impatient to get to dinner on time.

“You go now,” he said, “I’ll see you in the evening.”

Ron nodded and nearly galloped out of the hospital wing.

At the Great Hall Ron was treated to a hard stare from Hermione, who looked at him briefly and then turned away. Ron had given up all hope to understand her mood swings. Not feeling any remorse, he turned his attention to his lamb chops.

Hermione barely touched her food. How she sat through all her classes, she did not know. She was still in a haze, all the images replaying in her head, making her blush every time. She dreaded the moment when Harry would be released from the infirmary and she’d have to face him. She didn’t know what she was supposed to tell him. Should she just come out and confess that she’d been dying to kiss him for a long time now? He kissed her like he really wanted to do that too, but she wasn’t entirely sure.

For the lack of a better pastime, she went to the library again. She was relieved that nothing in the secluded corner reminded her of the palm-reading episode, or she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her work at all.

She worked diligently for hours: first slogging away at Charms and then Arithmancy. But it didn’t work too well. Instead, the harder she tried to concentrate on the charts, the more her mind drifted back to something completely opposite, bringing back the memories of a certain Gryffindor, his face, his voice, his lips… Hermione groaned and shut her textbook with a loud thump, earning a disapproving stare from Madam Pince.

As the evening drew nearer, she became more restless. She realized that she couldn’t hide in the library forever, so she picked up her books and slinked out of the library. Half way up to the Griffindor Tower, she stopped in her tracks and her mouth curled in a half-smile. She remembered that she had something important to do.

Hermione walked into the owlery, her mind made up. She looked around to see about a hundred of screech- and barn-owls ruffling up on their perches. She chose one bird and attached a letter to its paw. The owl hooted with displeasure, apparently unhappy at the prospect of flying into the night, and took off. Hermione watched the owl fly away, until it became just a tiny dot on the horizon and then finally disappeared out of sight. Hermione heaved a contented sigh. She did it. She sent that goddamned letter at last. It took all her courage to write it, carefully formulating her apologies, and it took her even more courage to send it. She just hoped that Viktor felt the same way and that he would understand her motives for breaking up with him. Well, there wasn’t much to break up, really.

Suddenly she heard light footsteps, interrupting her train of thought. Hermione turned to face the intruder, feeling her heart thump twice as hard upon seeing the familiar lock of black hair in the shadows. Harry stepped forward and they looked at each other. Was it his emerald eyes that attracted her to him like this? And what magnetic force pulled him to her? Harry stood there casually, leaning against the wall, with his hands in his pockets. He didn’t expect to find her there, but he certainly wasn’t disappointed. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat, when she saw his boyish smile. Dismayed, she turned around and leaned against the window-sill. She heard him approach her. Now he was standing close behind Hermione, his chest brushing against her back. His masculine scent was hard to ignore. She felt his arms wrap around her body and she grabbed the cold stone of the window-sill for support.

Harry wasn’t sure what to do, but he mustered all his courage and came closer to her. What the heck, he would just plunge into this, head first. There was no turning back now.

“Harry…” Hermione trailed off.

The air seemed to be electrified. His strong arms were wrapped around her waist, and his chin rested on her shoulder. Hermione closed her eyes. She realized that she would hate him to leave now. She wanted him to stay. In fact, she wanted it so badly, that she would probably run after him, if he walked away. Dreamily, she turned around in his arms and looked at him. His eyes were on her face, observing, moving ever so slowly, as if caressing her. Vaguely, Hermione thought that she should be angry at him for making her feel so helpless again, especially now that she was trapped between his virile body and the wall, but all her anger dissipated. With trepidation, she traced his jaw line with her finger.

“Why did you kiss me in the hospital wing?” she asked.

The moment of truth has come for both of them.

“Because I love you, Hermione,” he said, not breaking the eye-contact.

Her eyes welled up and tears flowed freely down her face.

“Hermione?” Harry was perplexed.

“You have no idea, Harry,” she sniffed. “I thought I’d never hear you say this. I thought you couldn’t be in love with me. I’m not even pretty or funny like other girls.”

“I don’t need other girls. I chose you, because you are very special to me, Hermione,” he said softly.

“Oh, Harry,” she sobbed as she snuggled against him, “I love you so much!”

She unclasped him from her tight embrace and tilted her head back. Their eyes locked again and Hermione found herself sinking in the bewitching green depths. When Harry brought his lips to hers, her mind was set adrift.

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?”

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: It seems that the more I write, the darker this fic becomes. I just can’t write pure fluff, it has to be dramatic at some point. I thrive on drama! But don’t cry, my stories always have a happy end!

CHAPTER SIX

Danger ne plus ultra

Another tear escaped and glided down her cheek onto the pillow that was becoming wet and uncomfortable. In the isolation of her bedroom Hermione indulged in rare moments of emotional weakness. She cried her eyes out, unwitnessed and unchallenged. And she made sure that Harry never guessed. She was afraid that if she cried in front of him, just once, he would break down. And she was supposed to be strong for him. She was all he had. She was his everything.

Unless you have experienced it yourself, you can never understand what it really feels like to have no parents or grandparents, no family or close people for the biggest part of your life. You can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to be raised by a family that neglects you and mistreats you to the point where your own ability to trust and love someone is impaired. Your parents and your loved ones serve as a trellis for you to build up future relationships with other people. They are the building blocks, the first links in the chain. That Harry trusted her so completely was a miracle. Everything he ever had was taken away from him. Even his late found godfather, which most people would not even consider a family. But Harry didn’t have any better. He had nothing. Now he relied on her for support and care that he lacked all his life. And she wasn’t going to let him down. She would become the best surrogate of family, and he’d want no other. There would be no sadness between them. She told him ceaselessly that he would be all right. And she hoped that she managed to channel some of that unshakeable credulity to him.

It was Christmas today and Christmas was the time when people were supposed to be happy with their family and friends. Today she would make Harry smile and laugh. Today nothing would be missing in his life.

With that in mind, Hermione wiped her eyes and got up from her bed. After making sure that there was no trace of tears in her eyes and that she looked presentable, she stepped out of her dorm and gaily walked down the stairs.

The Common Room was a mess, that was her first thought upon seeing it. It looked like Neville’s clumsy attempt at concocting a highly complicated potion. In the wrong cauldron, with the wrong ingredients. In Hermione’s opinion, the gaudy decorations were slightly over the top, and whoever the person behind the idea was, he must have had a very vague notion of harmony and style. Boisterous waves of light-pink and golden silk, reminiscent of angelic clouds on the medieval religious paintings, meandered across the walls and the ceiling. As a contrast, small branches of fur-tree and mistletoe were attached to it at intervals. Frosty windows were sprinkled with a silvery substance of unknown origin. On top of that a number of sofas and arm-chairs, upholstered in checkered purple-yellow velvet, were dispersed in zigzags.

In the middle of all this carnival of colours Hermione spotted two heads, one blond and one dark, bent over a glossy magazine. By all the giggling and whispering she gathered that these were Lavender and Parvati. A tad apprehensive, Hermione took the last steps down the stairs and stopped in the middle of the Common Room.

“Oh, Hermione!” Lavender squealed as she looked up. “Do you like it?”

“You mean you have put this all up yourselves?” Hermione asked in wonder. She should have guessed who the masterminds of the transformation were.

Lavender and Parvati both nodded fervently.

“Well, I must say that this is very…unconventional,” Hermione uttered with a crooked smile.

“Yes, we just thought we should give some Christmas flair to this room,” Lavender explained.

“You should go see the Great Hall!” Parvati added. “It has never looked so beautiful before!”

“Did you decorate that too?” Hermione’s eyes grew wide.

“No, but it’s still lovely. And it will be absolutely fantastic this evening, I daresay. You are going to the Christmas Ball, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Hermione replied with a smile. She had a surprise for Harry.

The Great Hall was decorated with multicoloured banners. Thousands of tiny candles were floating in the air, creating a very cozy atmosphere. The Christmas tree was towering in the corner in all its glory and a few members of the staff were adding finishing touches to it. Young couples would blush and giggle, when passing under the mistletoe, which was present in abundance. The house elves, who bawled Christmas carols at the top of their voices, could be heard from the kitchens and Peeves was throwing bright confetti in the students’ faces. Hermione had to admit that this was a very unusual Christmas.

At the Gryffindor table Harry and Ron were enthusiastically digging into the lunch prepared by the house elves. Harry’s eyes met hers and he gave her a very mysterious look. But Hermione didn’t attach any importance to it, and for gear that Ron might notice something, she ignored his stare for what seemed to Harry like an eternity. Finally, he gave up his hopes of communicating a message to her and decided to leave.

“Oh, Harry, I must warn you that the Common Room has been quite transformed,” Hermione’s voice followed him.

“Huh?” both Ron and Harry were surprised.

“It’s very Guggenheim, if you know what I mean,” she laughed.

The boys looked even more puzzled, especially Ron who had never seen any modern muggle art in his life.

“Oh, go see for yourself,” she giggled. “Just don’t talk to Lavender and Parvati.”

Confused, Harry wandered off. When Hermione finished her lunch, she gathered her books and went to the library to do some more studying before the Ball. Ron followed her with his eyes. He pinched himself to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. Hermione just giggled! She never giggled before. And what’s with those covert glances all of a sudden?

“What’s with Harry and Hermione these days?” he wondered aloud.

“Love does crazy things to people,” Ginny whispered.

“What was that?” Ron turned to his sister.

“Nothing, Ron,” she smiled mysteriously. “It’s nothing.”

Ron was befuddled. Not only his two best friends were being odd again, but his sister went bonkers too. They all ought to see a Healer, he thought.

* * *

Harry’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Hermione enter the Great Hall. Her brown wavy hair framed her oval face and fell in curls down her back. An elegant gown the shade of teal fitted over her curvy body. He was mesmerized by her beauty and had to force himself to look away from her, so as not to attract attention.

“You look stunning, Hermione,” he whispered in her ear when they took their places at the Gryffindor table.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she whispered back.

His gorgeous girlfriend attracted a lot of attention from male students of Hogwarts and Harry was secretly swelling with pride. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. If he thought that she looked beautiful at the Yule Ball two years ago, now she looked absolutely divine. During the next couple of hours the viands on the table were all Ron cared for, hardly sparing a glance at his friends. Unhindered, Hermione and Harry could hold hands under the table and talk to each other in low voices.

“Do you think it would be all right, if I asked you to dance with me?” Harry whispered in her ear.

She nodded and got up. He took her hand in his and led her into the middle of dancing couples. Her gown made a soft rustling sound as she twirled around the Hall. Harry, feeling very venturesome that evening, put his hands on her waist. When the song was over, they trudged through the boisterous crowd and left the Great Hall, unnoticed.

The Gryffindor Common Room was dark and empty. Harry lit the fire in the fireplace and Hermione winced at the sight of tawdry ornaments and pieces of furniture. They slumped onto one of the sofas, still holding hands.

“Merry Christmas, baby!” Harry murmured and leaned in to kiss her.

“Merry Christmas!” she smiled at him and stroked his cheek.

“I almost forgot! I got you a present,” he remembered.

He reached into the pocket of his trousers and took out a small, rectangular box of black velvet.

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione whispered, taken aback. “You shouldn’t have. I already have you.”

“Open it,” he urged with a smile.

Shyly, she opened the box. Inside laid the most beautiful piece of jewelry she’d ever seen. It was a locket of white gold. The dragon on the lid disgorged flames of blazing fire. Tiny gems that made up its body scintillated in the dark. She opened the locket and out poured a slow romantic melody. On the inside of the lid an inscription in Latin was engraved: Dimidium animae meae (‘half of my soul’).

Hermione closed the locket and burst into tears.

“What? You don’t like it?” Harry was confused.

“Oh, Harry,” she sobbed. “This is so beautiful! But my gift is so worthless compared to this!”

“What are you talking about!” he laughed. “I was delighted to get those Quidditch accessories from you! They are worthier to me than a piece of diamond.”

“I love you, Harry,” she sighed. “I think I haven’t told you that enough times.”

He wiped off her tears. “I love you too, Hermione.”

He was about to kiss her again, when Crookshanks appeared out of nowhere. The cat meowed and rubbed his flat snout against the silky hem of Hermione’s dress.

“I think he’s jealous!” she laughed.

Crookshanks wedged his way between the two lovers and purred happily. Ignoring the cat, they finally shared that kiss.

They were so absorbed in their feelings, that they didn’t hear someone come in through the hole in the portrait. Of all people who could walk in on them kissing, it happened to be Ron Weasley. He entered the Gryffindor Common Room and when he saw Hermione passionately kissing his best friend Harry, he thought he was hallucinating. But it wasn’t a hallucination. It was very disturbingly real.

“Oh, I see now! That explains a lot!” he snapped angrily.

Harry and Hermione jumped away from each other, taken unawares. Hermione was round-eyed with fear. There was also badly hidden panic on Harry’s face. Right now, explaining things to Ron was what he wanted to do the least. In an attempt to encourage Hermione, Harry took her hand and gently squeezed it.

Ron’s eyes were bloodshot and his face turned purple. Without a word, he whirled around and stomped out of the Common Room, banging the portrait behind him so hard that the Fat Lady let out a whimper. Harry gulped. He and Hermione looked at each other awkwardly.

“Should I go talk to him?” Harry asked uneasily.

“No,” Hermione sighed and sat on the sofa again. “He won’t talk to you anyway. Let’s wait until he calms down a little. We’ll try to talk to him tomorrow.”

Harry nodded sadly.

As usually, their secret spread quickly across the whole school. The next morning there wasn’t a single person there, who didn’t whisper about the scandalous couple. When they entered the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, all heads turned in their direction.

Purposefully ignoring everyone, Harry and Hermione joined their classmates at the table. Lavender and Parvati looked like they would burst with curiosity. And Ginny was the only one in the Hall grinning with a knowing gleam in her eyes. Ron, however, was nowhere to be seen. As Hermione expected, the school was rife with rumors, but she hoped that by now Ron would be willing to talk to her again. Harry, who had also noticed the absence of their best friend, was trying to cheer her up, but Hermione was still upset. She felt their once so strong friendship go to pieces. She couldn’t lose Ron now. But no matter how upset she felt now, somehow she knew that the worst was still to come.

After the breakfast she parted with Harry and went to the place where she was certain she would find Ron.

Ron was sitting on a bench at the bottom of the Gryffindor stands, polishing the handle of his broom. He was still brooding. He’d always had a short fuse, he knew that. But no one could make him as mad as Hermione did. Going out with Harry and not tell him! That was hard to forgive.

Hermione bustled along the winding path towards the Quidditch pitch. Even from the distance she could see Ron’s ginger head on the Gryffindor stands. Anxiously, she headed towards him. When she sat down next to him, he eyed her grimly.

“Ron, please talk to me,” she pleaded.

He continued to apply the polish as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

“Harry and I are very sorry about this. We should have told you,” she whispered fearfully. “We apologize.”

Ron put away his broom and looked at her intently.

“Ron, are you mad at me, because you fancy me?” she asked timidly.

“What???” he goggled at her. “Is that why you didn’t let me in on your secret?”

Hermione was taken aback.

“Why then did you react like that?” she was bewildered.

Ron frowned and dropped his eyes.

“I was just afraid that because you two were dating, I would be excluded,” he muttered. “You don’t need me anymore.”

“No, Ron!” she protested. “Don’t be ridiculous! You are still our best friend. We love you and we need you.”

“All right, I believe you,” he smiled wryly.

Hermione leaned over and kissed her friend on the cheek then gripped him in a warm embrace. Ron always felt incredibly awkward when Hermione hugged and kissed him, which she tended to do a lot every time they were reconciled with each other after every piddling argument. At least she wasn’t crying now, that he couldn’t handle.

Hermione was cheery again. She hated it when they quarreled, as it always reminded her of the rows they had in their third year because of their pets. That was a horrible experience and she didn’t want to go through it again. Especially now when their future seemed so vague. Will they ever be happy together? Will there be time when she won’t have to worry about their lives?

* * *

The heavy rectangles of the tombstones stood out in the dark. In the distance he recognized the branchy yew-tree. The graveyard was encircled by the tall figures of Death Eaters, as usually clad in black. But their presence was outshone by the man in front of Harry. His nemesis, Lord Voldemort. Nurtured by Nagini’s venom and Harry’s blood, he was a real person of flesh and blood.

“So we meet again, Potter,” he sizzled.

That voice sent shivers down Harry’s spine. It didn’t bode any good.

“I have a little surprise for you.”

Voldemort stepped aside and Harry saw an unconscious body at his feet. The body of the person he loved with all his heart. His Hermione. She was chained to a tombstone. In a split second Voldemort snatched her body, her chains rattling, and Harry saw the words engraved on the stone plate: ‘here lay our beloved friends Lily and James Potter’. Harry’s mouth went dry. He was standing at his parents’ grave. Voldemort laughed raucously, drawing Harry’s attention again, and pointed his wand to Hermione’s throat.

“Say goodbye to your little girlfriend, Potter!”

Harry jerked and nearly fell out of his bed. He was drenched in sweat and his scar was searing with pain. Clutching his blanket, he tried to calm down. With relief he noted that it was quiet in the dormitory, at least he didn’t scream this time. He took his wand from his bedside table and conjured himself a glass of water. He took a gulp and sank back onto the pillow.

Everyone was always jealous of his fame and the attention that he got. Well, these people had no idea what his life was like. Not only didn’t he enjoy it, but he was constantly reminded of who he was. ‘Why, if it isn’t the famous Harry Potter!’ came from all sides. But he didn’t mind it that much. He rather preferred to be called to on the street or asked for an autograph. That was annoying, but not harmful. However, when he was reminded of his identity in such a crude way (and Voldemort was notorious for his unrefined manners), he wished he could put an end to this. And there was really no saying when he would at last cast off his chains. Last year’s nightmares taught him a lesson and now he took his dreams seriously. He was positive that this dream was a sign, an omen. Voldemort was threatening him. He was up to something.

With that thought firmly nestled in his mind, he tried to live the next day as if nothing had happened. He was tired of people fretting because of him, especially Hermione. If she asked him what was wrong with him, he couldn’t just say that he had got a not so subtle warning about her death, could he? Besides, deception was a useful thing to learn for his future career as an Auror.

Pretending in front of Hermione was especially easy, because he’d been avoiding her the whole day. Not a very smart move on his part, because Hermione felt immediately that something was wrong. After the dinner, which Harry had missed, she went looking for him. She couldn’t find him anywhere. He wasn’t at the lake or the library. He wasn’t on the Astronomy Tower either. She looked everywhere. Then a sudden thought struck her – he could be in the Room of Requirement. She ran fast to the seventh floor. She stopped only when she found herself opposite the tapestry with Barnabus the Barmy on it. She walked past the wall three times while concentrating on Harry. The concealed entrance to the room soon appeared before her.

When she entered the room, she saw him sitting in a chair, facing the fireplace, with his back to the door. He didn’t hear her come in. He didn’t move and his body looked rigid. Hermione approached him and gingerly put her hands on his shoulders. He started, but then smiled, as he saw who it was. But his smile didn’t fool her. She started massaging his stiff shoulders and Harry closed his eyes and leaned back.

“Is there something that bothers you?” she asked, moving her hands over his shoulder blades.

“Hmm, that feels good,” he drawled.

She was waiting for the answer. She knew, he would tell her eventually.

“I had a dream about Voldemort,” he said finally.

She froze at his words and her fingernails dug into his skin. She knew it would happen one day and she would have to be ready, but deep in her heart she still hoped that this day would never come.

“What was it about?” she asked as calmly as she could, so that he wouldn’t notice how scared she was. But he did. And at that moment he hated Voldemort even more, this time for causing pain to someone he loved.

“Come here,” he pulled her hand and she sat on his lap.

Despite everything, Harry was trying to be brave and it broke her heart. He needed her, but she felt so helpless. She was the wiseacre Hermione Granger, the smartest student in the history of Hogwarts, but her knowledge was useless. She couldn’t save him. She just wrapped her arms around him and sat with him in silence.

Harry closed his eyes and stroked her bushy hair. If it was even possible, his love for Hermione had just been raised to the power of hundred. How did she do that? She didn’t say or do anything really, but she made him feel so comforted. Merlin, he was one lucky guy. Not because he was Harry Potter with a famous scar, but because he had her.

Long after Hermione had left him, he was still sitting in that chair, pondering his options. He had to do something to get Hermione out of danger. Not even for a second did he doubt that Voldemort’s message to him was real. If he decided to kill Hermione, he would do it. There was just one thing Harry could do now, but just the thought of it caused him so much pain.

In the afternoon, a whirr of wings distracted Hermione from her essay on goblin rebellions. A dark brown owl hooted as it landed on the back of her chair. Hermione took off a letter that was attached to the owl’s paw. She eyed it curiously. It was a white piece of parchment that had nothing special about it. When she unsealed the letter, it was blank. Invisible ink? ‘Aparecium!’ She whispered the incantation of the spell to make invisible ink visible and a short sentence appeared on the smooth surface. Wait for me on the Astronomy Tower at midnight. There was no signature. What did he want? And why this secrecy all of a sudden? Couldn’t he just tell her whatever he wanted to tell her when they would see each other next morning? She gave a note another cursory read, but it didn’t reveal any extra information. She threw the piece of parchment in the blazing fireplace and it caught fire. It curled up, shrinking, until it was reduced to ashes.

When she came up to the tower, the cutting wind penetrated her robes and she shivered. He was standing by the wall, staring into the night. He must have heard her coming, because he turned around. His pale skin was glowing white in the moonlight and her heart went out to him.

“You came,” he said softly.

“Harry?” she stroked his face, “What happened?”

“I received some bad news,” he answered, covering her hand with his.

He didn’t say anything else and she didn’t dare ask. She didn’t want to know. He pulled her towards him and put his hands on the small of her back, burying his dark head in the crook of her neck.

“We both knew that this would never go away until I kill him,” he murmured.

“You’re safe here,” she tried to reason with him. “Professor Dumbledore won’t let anyone come near you.”

“Even Dumbledore is not that omnipotent, Hermione.”

She didn’t protest.

“Do you know how much I love you, Hermione?” he asked as he lifted up his head and looked in her eyes.

“Yes, I do.” Her eyes watered with emotion as she looked in his eyes. “And I love you even more.”

“Never forget that I love you and I always will,” he pressed.

“I won’t,” she whispered.

He pulled her in a hug and rested his lips on her forehead.

“It’s cold here. Let’s go inside,” she whispered in his ear.

She took his hand and led him down the stairs and into the dark corridor.

“Where are we going,” Harry asked, when they walked past the turn to the Gryffindor Tower.

“To the Room of Requirement,” she replied.

Harry stared at her with wide eyes. “Why?”

“I just want to be alone with you. I’m tired of all these people sneaking about. I want some privacy.”

He didn’t know what she had in her mind, but he quite liked the room when he saw it. It was spacious enough to appear cozy. There was a fireplace in the opposite wall and a thick carpet in front of it. In the corner stood a comfortable-looking sofa with soft cushions scattered all over it.

They both sagged on the cushions and for hours on end they just talked. He poured out his soul to her and she listened attentively. He told her things that he had never told anybody. She absorbed all his pain and misery and Harry felt un-manacled.

When Harry awakened, Hermione was fast asleep and he felt her warm breath on his cheek. He sneaked a glance at his watch. It was almost three o’clock. They talked till they both fell asleep. With great care he lifted her head off his chest and put it down on the pillow. He covered her with a blanket and she stirred a little in her sleep.

He watched her with a smile on his lips. He realized that maybe it was the last time he saw her. He didn’t know if he was coming back. That’s why he didn’t tell her. If he did, she would cry and plead him not to go, making it even harder for him to leave her. No, he just couldn’t bear it. He had to go and finish this, even if he knew it would break her heart.

“Just don’t forget me, Hermione,” he whispered as his fingers gingerly grazed her cheek. “Don’t forget me.”

When he was at the door, he turned around to look at her again, capturing her image in his memory.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly, his voice cracking with emotion.

His eyes lingered on her beautiful face for another moment before he swiftly turned around and left the room.

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: For those who were desperate to read the next chapter – this is it! I hope it’s what you wanted! LOL There won’t be much dialogue, just Hermione’s thoughts and such. Secrets will be revealed (partially).

This chapter was inspired by George Michael’s song ‘Jesus to a child’. If you remember the lyrics, you’ll know what I mean.

Warning: Very soppy! Beware!

CHAPTER SEVEN

Heaven sent and heaven stole

Hermione woke up the next morning with the first rays of sunlight creeping in through a gap in the curtains. After a moment of confusion she realized that she was still in the Room of Requirement, where she had fallen asleep last night. She ran her hand over the crumpled cushions next to her to discover that she was alone. She groaned silently and rolled on her back. She wished Harry had stayed with her until she woke up. She’d love to wake up next to him, to feel his warm musky skin against hers. These thoughts led her to the last night’s events. Last night was magical. She and Harry talked and shared their secrets and dreams until late at night and she must have fallen asleep in the middle of conversation. She smiled. She should get out of bed and find Harry.

When she got dressed, she went down to the Great Hall, where the students chatted merrily over the tasty breakfast. She overlooked the Gryffindor table, but to her surprise he wasn’t there. He must be practicing for the Quidditch match, she thought. She tried to finish breakfast as fast as she could, so that she could go look for him. She didn’t see him for a few hours only, but she was already missing him. She was about to leave, when Professor McGonagall entered the Great Hall and walked briskly towards Hermione.

“Professor Dumbledore wants to see you,” she informed her in a stern voice.

Argh, Hermione thought, why did he want to talk to her just when she was planning to track down her boyfriend and give him a nice kiss he deserved. But she followed Professor McGonagall anyway. When they came alongside of the stone gargoyle, Professor McGonagall said the password and they entered the Headmaster’s office. Hermione had been here on more than one occasion and every time the objects in his office fascinated her, like Fawkes and moving portraits of former headmasters. But now she wasn’t paying much attention to that, as she intended to get it done and over with, whatever Headmaster wanted to talk to her about, and then she would run outside, to the Quidditch field.

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore greeted her and smiled warmly, his eyes slightly twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.

“Good morning,” she replied politely.

“You must be looking for Mr. Potter,” he said, offering her a seat.

“H-how did you know?” she stuttered, her face reddening. He couldn’t read minds, could he?

“He is not here, Miss Granger,” he said then, the look in his eyes suddenly turning graver.

“What do you mean? He left Hogwarts?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“I’m afraid, he did. He’s now at another place where he can find safety I could not provide for him. He was in great danger, staying here.”

She turned white as a sheet. He didn’t tell her! He knew and didn’t tell her! Just hours ago they talked and he didn’t say a word! Now he left her in uncertainty. What would happen to him? Would he even come back? Trying to fight the tears that were making their way into her eyes, Hermione clenched her fists.

“Now, miss Granger. There’s no need to worry. Mr. Potter will be safe there,” Professor McGonagall said in an encouraging voice.

She felt tears sting her eyes. “When is he coming back?”

Professor McGonagall averted her eyes and Hermione felt pain inside, her heart shattering to pieces. She couldn’t breathe, she needed some air. Before the Headmaster and the Deputy Head could say anything, Hermione sprang to her feet and darted out of the office. She ran without seeing where she was heading, her eyes clouded with tears and with a throbbing pain in her heart. She was already in the entrance hall of the castle, when she bumped into Ginny, who was returning from the Quidditch field with Dean. They were laughing about something, but their smiles faded quickly as they saw Hermione’s state. Her eyes were fixed in a stare, as if she was far away in her thoughts and she had a pained look on her tear-stained face. A few other students who were in the hall at the moment stopped to look at her. But Hermione didn’t see anyone. She just stood there, frozen, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh my God, Hermione, what happened?” Ginny asked, alarmed.

“Ginny…” Hermione’s voice trailed off when she finally focused on her friend.

“Tell me what happened,” Ginny gently asked her, taking her by the shoulders.

“Harry,” Hermione’s mouth quavered as she said his name, “he’s gone! They are going to kill him!” She exclaimed before breaking down in sobs.

Ginny, wide-eyed with fear, pulled Hermione in a tight hug. She motioned for Dean to leave and stared hard at the curious passers-by. Everyone left and only two of them stayed, Hermione clutching Ginny for support and Ginny not knowing what to say or do, to make the pain go away. She ran her fingers through Hermione’s bushy hair, soothing her like a child.

“Shh, Hermione, don’t cry,” she whispered. She didn’t dare add that everything would be all right. She knew it wasn’t true. So she just kept holding her, until the sobs subsided.

Hermione detached herself from Ginny and wiped her eyes. She still looked like she was in a trance.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” she spoke hoarsely.

“You wouldn’t let him go,” Ginny reasoned.

“You’re damn right I wouldn’t!” Hermione snapped. “This is plain suicide! What was he thinking?”

Ginny shrugged. “I guess we’ll hear it from him when he comes back.”

* * *

Days went by and Hermione dreamed of him almost every night. In her dreams he was with her, safe and sound. He smiled at her, he loved her. It was as if he had never left. In her dreams she was living an illusion of happiness that was never meant to be. That’s why waking up every morning made her heart ache beyond description. She had to leave him behind in her sweet dreams and go on living in this harsh reality, which was a foul copy of the world, because it didn’t have him in it. She thought about him every wakeful moment. Was he all right? What if he was injured or even worse? The very thought of it frightened her. That’s when she would force her eyes to close and she would seek refuge in her unreal, yet so reviving dreams.

Her friends were devastated too and even boys were teary-eyed. Before, Ron, Harry, Neville, Seamus and Dean used to chat in their dorm before going to bed, but now that Harry was gone that didn’t happen anymore. Low-spirited, the boys retreated to their beds and barely exchanged a word. More than his friends, Ron felt incomplete. Harry was his best friend. They were the famous trio. As a duo he and Hermione didn’t function well. In reality Ron was left alone, because Hermione was hiding in the world of her own. Ron still hoped against all odds that the old saying ‘out of sight, out of mind’ would work with her. Apparently it didn’t. By the looks of it, Harry Potter was everything she ever thought about. He was starting to really worry about her. She still ate, went to classes and did the rest of the usual things, but she did it automatically, like a robot.

“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.”

How could she enjoy life now? How??? All her hopes were shattered to pieces the day he left. Harry was absolutely right. Now she regretted wasting all those precious moments on studying. Instead she should have thrown out her books and go have some fun with Harry. It was too late now. She blew it.

Meanwhile, she was oblivious to everything that happened around her. When Professor McGonagall brought her to the hospital wing one day, she wasn’t even aware of it. Nothing mattered anymore. But the staff was worried and was not willing to abet her self-destruction. Her cadaverous complexion frightened Professor McGonagall. She helped Madam Pomfrey put Hermione in one of the beds where she lay like a rock-hewn figurine.

“Do something, Poppy,” Professor McGonagall begged, overlooking the gaunt figure on the bed.

“There is no remedy against it, I’m afraid,” Madam Pomfrey answered. “But I’ll do everything I can.”

“Thank you,” whispered the Deputy Head and left the infirmary.

“Now then, child,” Madam Pomfrey urged Hermione. “Drink this potion. It will make you feel better.”

Hermione obeyed and downed the vial.

“Now lie down and have some sleep.”

Hermione lay down and closed her eyes. The nurse looked at her one more time and tiptoed out of the ward. But Hermione wasn’t asleep. When the nurse was out of earshot, she brought her hand to the locket she was wearing on a chain and touched its carved surface. She pulled it out of her hospital gown, gazing at the bright gold adorned with dust-like bits of diamonds. She smiled. Harry never gave her any gifts, except this one, he never wrote her love letters or took her on a proper date, but it didn’t matter to her. He was the only thing she wanted and it sufficed as long as he was around. She pressed the latch and the locket opened with a click. A soothing melody of tiny bells rang in her ears. She closed her eyes and pictured Harry’s face, his messy black hair, his lopsided grin… She would give anything to have him with her again, to tell her that he was all right and it was finally over.

Hermione wept away the night, never letting go of the precious locket.

In the morning she left the hospital wing, without permission of Madam Pomfrey. She had no intention of staying there. She wasn’t sick. And she couldn’t just sit and wait for Harry, doing nothing. Life went on. Her friends, undoubtedly guided by best intentions, left her alone and didn’t try to engage her in any sort of conversation. That gave her plenty of time to think.

She still couldn’t believe that Harry could leave like that to fight Voldemort on his own. He was brave, but he certainly wasn’t stupid. Last year at the Department of Mysteries there were six of them and they also got help from the Order. They’d be long dead otherwise. What made Harry think that he could challenge the Dark Lord alone? It just didn’t make sense. There must be some reason for him to do that. And he hadn’t told her anything before he left. No hints whatsoever.

“You came,” he said softly.

“Harry?” she stroked his face, “What happened?”

“I received some bad news,” he answered, covering her hand with his.

Suddenly Hermione roused herself and there was once again an intelligent look on her face which her friends hadn’t seen in days. What did Harry possibly mean by that? What kind of bad news did he receive? Why didn’t she ask him? How could she be so stupid?!

She darted off to the top floor of the castle. The headmaster was away from Hogwarts, but Professor McGonagall was still there and she absolutely had to tell her everything. Hermione stopped at her office and knocked at the door.

“Come in,” Professor McGonagall called.

Hermione opened the door and entered the room. The old professor was sitting behind her desk, a heap of papers rising before her. When she saw Hermione, she became slightly nervous.

“Miss Granger?” she blinked.

“Professor McGonagall, I need to talk to you about Harry,” Hermione puffed.

Professor put aside the essay she was marking and looked at Hermione over the top of her glasses.

“All right,” she nodded. “Please, take a seat.”

Hermione sat down and looked at her expectantly. Professor McGonagall averted her eyes and sighed.

“There is something you need to know, Hermione,” she said quietly, addressing the girl by her first name.

“You know why Harry left, don’t you?” Hermione enquired.

Professor McGonagall didn’t reply. Instead she unlocked the drawer of her desk and took out a quarto of parchment covered in a sloppy scrawl. Hermione glanced at it curiously and recognized Harry’s handwriting.

“I found it on my desk the morning after he had left. Please, read it.”

Hermione took it hastily and read the message.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

What I am about to do will seem to you irrational at best, and perhaps very dangerous and stupid. But I have no choice. I have to leave Hogwarts now, before it’s too late. I’ve been having those dreams again and I know that Voldemort is getting impatient. He is ready to fight. He wants to kill me. No matter how many protective charms have been put on the castle, he’ll try to get in here and finish what he had started fifteen years ago. He is furious and if he’ll fail again, he will kill Hermione. He showed me and I believed him. I know that he is very serious about it. He will hurt her, because it will hurt me. As long as I’m at Hogwarts, her life is in danger. I’m doing this to protect her. It’s me he really wants, not her. If he wants to fight, he’ll have to fight me. I’m just making it easier for him, by being in his full view. I’m not a coward. And Hermione has nothing to do with this. She doesn’t know, for I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. And I believe she mustn’t know. I trust that you will keep it a secret from her.

Sincerely yours,

Harry Potter

When Hermione finished reading the letter, she looked at the professor.

“What does this mean?” she asked.

“He didn’t have courage to tell you himself. And he didn’t warn us either. He knew we wouldn’t let him go,” Professor McGonagall replied.

“Why didn’t you show this to me earlier?” Hermione was getting angry.

Professor McGonagall shrugged. “You were very upset. And besides, Harry didn’t want you to know.”

“Where is he now?” Hermione persisted.

“That’s the problem,” she sighed and got up from her chair, wringing her hands. “We knew that he would go to Grimmauld place. Professor Dumbledore and I arranged for him to be picked up by the members of the Order. They were supposed to meet him there and bring him to some place where he would be safe. Of course, they wouldn’t have let him go fight Voldemort or anything. They would just keep him safe somewhere. As long as you are here, he wouldn’t come back.”

“But?”

“But our plan didn’t work out. He was at Grimmauld place, but he left quickly. And no one knows where he’s gone. The Aurors scoured every inch of London, but he just vanished.”

“It’s all because of me,” Hermione whispered, her head in her hands. “He’s too noble to hide at Hogwarts and put my life at stake.”

“And he loves you too much to do that,” Professor McGonagall added.

Hermione smiled, “Yes, he loves me.”

Professor patted her hand comfortingly. “As soon as we hear something from him, we will let you know. Let’s just hope it won’t be long.”

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed, feeling another torrent of tears coming up.

She got up from the chair and handed back Harry’s letter to Professor McGonagall.

“I’ll be going now then. Do tell me, if you hear something.”

Professor nodded and Hermione left her office with her heart breaking. Now that she knew the real reason why Harry had left, she felt even worse. All she could think of was that Harry had been forced to sneak away at night to protect her.

She never said a word to her friends. She didn’t want them to know that he left Hogwarts because of her. At supper she poked her chicken wing that was now cold and unappetizing. Harry’s letter had a bigger impact on her than she expected. She felt so guilty. Voldemort threatened to kill her and he had to leave. It’s all her fault. Harry will be killed because of her. That day in the hospital wing she should never have kissed him. Voldemort would never have found out that Harry loved her more than just a friend. And he would still be here, safe and happy.

She reached for a goblet of pumpkin juice and because her hand was shaking, she knocked it down. The juice spilt on the table and Hermione hastened to remove it with a spell. She rummaged in her pocket in search of her wand and took something out. She peered at it closely. It was a white sateen handkerchief. She blinked. She never had one of those. Then she noticed two small letters in the corner, embroidered in gold. H.P. it read. And the memories washed over her. She was crying one day after a minor argument between them and he gave her his handkerchief. She wouldn’t stop crying and he started kissing her face, as if he wanted to kiss away the pain inside her. Yes, it was one of the beautiful memories that she would cherish forever. She felt her eyes cloud with tears, only this time she didn’t have Harry to dry them up.

“Hermione, are you all right?” Ron asked cautiously.

She didn’t answer. Instead she buried her face in her hands and gave vent to the tears. Ron awkwardly ran his hand over her hair. His eyes blazed with fury. Seeing Hermione so woebegone broke his heart. When Harry returns, he will personally teach him a lesson. He would beat him up unconscious, and even Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t be able to fix him! Surely, he thought he was being a hero again! Ron didn’t dare to think what would happen, if Harry didn’t return.

Hermione was still crying, her shoulders shaking.

“Come on, Hermione. Please stop crying.”

That elicited even more tears from her. All things around her were remindful of the time they had spent together. The images would play in her head, torturing her, but she was unable to stop them. She used to feel his strong arms around her, when she needed to be comforted, and now she desperately craved for his warmth. She hated the wrench she felt without him. Why? Why did it have to happen to them? How was she supposed to fill in the void inside her?

“Really Hermione, you should stop crying and eat something. No need starving yourself to death,” Ginny tried to persuade her.

She looked at Hermione, or rather at a ghost of Hermione she used to know. Every time she saw her pasty pale skin and black-circled eyes, it hurt her to the bone.

“I’m not hungry,” Hermione said, her voice dull.

With that she grabbed her bag and left the Great Hall. She didn’t go to her room, but took a turn on the left and exited the castle through the heavy oaken doors. At a quick pace, she covered the school grounds and made it towards the lake. Once there, she fell to her knees onto the cold grass. Tears that were running down her cheeks, threatened to turn into icicles in the biting frost, but she didn’t care. She looked up into the starless sky.

“Harry, my love,” she whispered, “wherever you are, please be strong! Just think about me and you’ll be all right. Think about us. You have to come back, because I’m waiting here for you. I’ll always be waiting, no matter how long it takes.”

She didn’t get a reply from the dark night sky, but she imagined that somewhere out there Harry was looking at the sky too and maybe he was able to hear her.

When she returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, she saw Ron and Ginny sitting by the fire. At the sight of her both of them jumped up with expression of relief on their faces.

“Where have you been? We were so worried!” Ron exclaimed.

“Outside, at the lake. I just wanted a whiff of fresh air.”

Ron wanted to say something, but decided against it. She looked so frail and dejected.

“You shouldn’t have been waiting for me. Go to bed now. I’m all right,” she said and went towards the stairs. Ginny and Ron followed her with their eyes.

In the dorm, Hermione undressed calmly and climbed in her bed. She tossed and turned for a while until sleep claimed her.

She saw a dark room with stone floor and stone walls. The torches barely shed any light and it gave the room an eerie glow. The room wasn’t empty. There was something on the floor. What she thought to be a lump of rags turned out to be a limp human body. The scanty light caught on it and she saw a strand of familiar black hair under the cloak. Harry! He was lying there so still, not moving and not breathing. Hermione jerked in her sleep. That’s when she saw a tall hooded figure approach Harry. He leaned over him. Hermione couldn’t see this man’s face. He leaned in closer and his robes opened, revealing the Dark Mark on his forearm – a skull with a serpent in its mouth. The man pulled out a wand from his pocket and wheezed ‘CRUCIO!’ Harry flinched, his face so pale, as if life was draining out of him. The man threw his head back and laughed hoarsely, his laughter resounding against the cold, damp walls.

Hermione abruptly woke up and sat up on her bed. She was panting frantically. Tears trickled down her face as she put a hand to her mouth to suppress a cry.

“Harry!” she whispered through the tears. “Please come back! Please come back alive! I need you so much! Don’t leave me alone!”

She curled on the bed and broke into silent sobs. Like she had done so many nights in the row, Hermione finally cried herself to sleep.

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: Hey, folks! This is the chapter you’ve been asking for. It’s the last chapter and it’s going to be sad! So the Kleenex warning from before applies here too. Enjoy!

CHAPTER EIGHT

I’ll be back some day

Hermione woke up the next morning with a lump in her throat. She remembered the dream she had last night. The images of Harry, suffering, within an ace of death, raced through her mind. She hoped that what she saw wasn’t true. Of course, it wasn’t. Her Harry was safe and alive and he would come back soon.

Despite her worries, she tried to look cheerful. She had her meals, she attended her classes, and no one suspected that in the seclusion of her bedroom she still cried. She listened to the music in the locket many times in the row, falling asleep to the sounds. And when no one was looking, she would take Harry’s picture out of her pocket and stare at it and then wash it with her tears.

So, again she was hiding in her dorm. This time, though, she was just sitting on her bed, analyzing her nightmare. A small knock on the door interrupted her flow of thoughts.

“Come in,” Hermione called.

The door opened, and a tall girl with fiery red hair walked in.

“Hello, Ginny,” Hermione said.

“Hi,” she sat on the bed next to Hermione. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Hermione?” Ginny asked cautiously.

“What?”

“Talk to me,” Ginny said softly.

Hermione looked up at her and Ginny saw pain deep in those chocolate-brown eyes.

“I’m scared, Ginny. There is no news from Harry. What if he’s in danger? You know, I had a dream last night. I saw him lying on the floor in some dungeon, writhing with pain.” Her voice trailed off as she started crying.

“Oh Hermione, don’t! It was just a bad dream. You know that Dumbledore would never let something happen to him, right?”

Hermione looked up at Ginny in surprise, but then remembered that she was the only one who knew about the note. Professor Dumbledore was no longer in control.

“You know, Ron and the others are really worried about you,” Ginny whispered.

“I know,” Hermione smiled through her tears.

Ginny smiled back and wiped away her friend’s tears.

“Now, that’s better. I hate to see you cry. Besides, I’m afraid when Harry comes back and sees how wretched you look, he’ll change his mind about you and run off to that cow Alice Whitaker!”

Hermione laughed.

“Thank you, Ginny. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Hermione gave her a tight hug.

“You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for, right?” Ginny patted her on the back and then pulled away.

“You are not crying again, are you?” she asked suspiciously.

“No,” Hermione laughed again.

“Good. Here, I brought you some raspberry pie from the kitchen. I thought you might be hungry. You barely eat these days.”

She took a small parcel out of her bag. Inside laid a few slices of a freshly baked pie.

“Hmm, smells delicious!” Hermione said, feeling her mouth water. She was indeed hungry.

Ginny made sure that Hermione ate every crumb of it, all the time watching her with a smile. With her mouth stuffed, Hermione listened to her friend tell her recent school news that she had missed. Suddenly, she felt so elated and the fear was gone. It was just a dream and Harry was free from all danger and harm.

* * *

One morning, a few days later she woke up and felt someone tug at her blanket. She opened her eyes. It was still dark and the curtains were pulled down. She heard someone breathe heavily at the foot of her four-poster bed and the tugging resumed. She looked down. A small silhouette, draped in something shapeless, turned around and large round eyes looked at her fearfully.

“Dobby???” she whispered.

The house-elf looked positively distressed. He was wringing his hands in a very nervous manner.

“Miss Granger,” he bowed. “Dobby is very sorry for waking you up, but Professor Dumbledore asked Dobby to take you to his office.”

“What, now?”

“Yes. Dobby is very sorry.”

“It’s all right, Dobby,” Hermione calmed him down. “Wait for me in the Common Room, I’ll be there in a minute.”

When Dobby left, she got out of bed and dressed quickly. She was nervous. She guessed that Dumbledore wanted to tell her something important, otherwise he wouldn’t drag her out of bed so early in the morning. Maybe he got some news from Harry, she thought with a faint hope.

Quietly, she went down the stairs to the Common Room, where Dobby was waiting for you. At the sight of her, he jumped up and rushed to the hole behind the portrait, beckoning her to follow him. Dozens of flights of stairs later, they were standing before the Headmaster’s office. The door stood ajar. Hermione stepped forward and stopped suddenly in the doorway. In the middle of the office stood the boy of her dreams. He had an athletic body of a Quidditch player and his long black hair stood up at the back.

Harry turned around. In front of him, leaning against the door-frame, stood Hermione. Her brown hair was a tangled mess. Her eyes, once warm brown, were now dull and stood out against her pallid skin.

“Harry?” she asked softly, afraid to believe her eyes.

She made another step forward and collapsed into his arms, with her arms around his neck.

“How could you?!” She suddenly screamed. “How could you do this to me?!! Disappear like this and not a word from you in two weeks! What was I supposed to think?!” she punctuated her every word with a prod in his chest.

Harry gaped at this sudden outburst, too shocked to try to stop her punch him. And he knew too well that he deserved it.

“I’ve been waiting for you all this time and you didn’t even get around to sending me a note, to let me know that you’re alive!” angry tears streaked down her face.

Harry had finally snapped out of his shock and grabbed her wrists. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I wanted to send you an owl, but it was too risky. The Death Eaters were probably after me and they could easily intercept the letter.”

“But where were you all this time? Professor Dumbledore sent Aurors for you to the Grimmauld Place! He wanted to protect you!”

“I was at Godric’s Hollow,” Harry said quietly. “I went there to meet Voldemort, because I received a sign.”

“I know,” Hermione replied softly.

“You know?”

“I’ve read your note,” she confessed.

He nodded.

“Did you fight with him?” her voice was shaking.

Harry shook his head. “He didn’t come. I hoped he would. I mean, he was there once, fifteen years ago, and I reckoned he wanted to finish what he started. I waited for him, but he didn’t show up.”

“Why did you come back?” she asked, as tears clouded her eyes.

He took her face in his hands and stared deep into her eyes.

“I realized that what I did, was not fair. I left you without warning, without saying goodbye. And I just thought that if I got killed there, you’d be all alone. And I didn’t even say goodbye properly.”

“All this time I never stopped crying,” she whispered through tears. “Last night I had a dream about you. I saw you in a dungeon, dying.”

“Oh, Hermione, please don’t. I’m here now. It’s all right.”

“I will never let you go,” she sobbed. “Never again. You hear me?”

“I won’t leave again,” he promised. “We still have so many memories to make together.”

She smiled, then stood up on tiptoe and brought her lips to his. Harry kissed her back eagerly. He crushed her in an embrace and silently promised himself that he would never be so stupid again. They would always be together and never apart. They had a whole lifetime ahead.

THE END