Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, so there!

A/N: When I first started writing this section, the song "Where My Heart Will Take Me" immediately popped into my mind.

First and foremost, thanks to my beta MapleMountain. I felt like such an idiot after posting Chapter 13. I borrowed the "Just shut up and kiss me" line from his story. I had been waiting thirteen long chapters to be able to finally use it, and when I did, I forgot to credit him. Sure, I went back and fixed it, but not before most everyone already read it.

We've seen a little father/son talk with Dan and Harry. Now we'll get a chance to see a mother/daughter talk.

I truly believe that everything here is completely in character, even though we've never seen anything like it in canon. (Then again, there were certain parts of HBP that I didn't think were based on canon, so what do I know? ) Remember, we're dealing with teenagers. It would be unbelievable if they didn't deal with these things. The real question is how do they act upon what they are feeling. As a wise man once said, "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

Remember, real life... PG-13...

Chapter 14. Where My Heart Will Take Me.

"Harry? Just shut up and kiss me," she said in a very matter of fact tone, still grinning from Ginny's exhortation.

"As you wish," Harry replied, quoting that oft-used response to being given an order in Emma's favorite movie. Hermione smiled, then she closed the remaining distance between them.

It was a very curious sensation. Harry watched as Hermione smiled after he quoted The Princess Bride. He was surprised he thought of that, actually; it was the first thing to pop into his mind. She then took that last step toward him. That was when things really started to get strange.

For lack of a better description, Harry felt as though time itself began to slow down the closer Hermione got to him. He could see her hair sway in slow motion as she moved forward. There was only a foot separating them, and yet it seemed as though it took an eternity for her to reach him.

Hermione finally began to close her eyes as she tilted her head slightly. He recalled when Cho kissed him under the mistletoe back in the Room of Requirement. It was the first time he had ever kissed anyone. It was true that Hermione had kissed him on the cheek the year before, but he hadn't kissed her back.

Harry recalled with great clarity (What's the saying? Hindsight is 20/20?) how awkward it was with Cho. He had absolutely no idea what to do. He had never done that before. It certainly didn't help any that she had been crying. Ron was right! What kind of girl cries when you kiss her?! Honestly! At least Hermione isn't crying! Heh heh... she looks happy, actually...

What was I talking about? Harry wondered to himself. He was quite unnerved how much his mind was wandering. If anything, he'd describe it as babbling. Oh yeah! Hermione. She had tilted her head slightly so that their noses wouldn't crash together. Wish I had known that last year, Harry thought with some regret. This is really bizarre how everything seems like it's in slow motion.

Hermione was now so close that he could feel the heat radiating off of her face. With the time finally at hand, Harry decided it would be better if he closed his eyes also. Ginny's and Luna's kisses had come so suddenly that Harry didn't have time to close his eyes. They'd both closed their eyes, but he hadn't. Strictly from a practical standpoint, it was very uncomfortable trying to look at someone when they were literally one inch away from your face.

With his eyes now closed, Harry felt as though he was on autopilot. He could no longer see Hermione, and yet, somehow, he knew exactly where she was, down to the millimeter. He heard her take a breath at the last moment, one last chance to stockpile oxygen. Harry did so as well.

After what seemed like hours, Harry finally felt Hermione's lips upon his. In that moment, the entire universe stopped. The monster of anticipation clawing away at his insides disappeared. His restless mind silenced. He was even pretty sure the beating of his own heart stopped. There was nothing except his lips and Hermione's.

Ever since the moment he realized that Hermione was going to kiss him, he had planned to do... something. He couldn't simply stand there and just let her kiss him without doing something. She had known, after all, that the other two... whose names he couldn't recall for some reason... were going to kiss him.

And yet, now... he found that that was exactly what he was doing. All of his intentions, all of his plans, they were all swept away the instant her lips touched his. At first, Harry felt a sense of exhilaration. He had to admit, kissing was very nice... whether it be Cho, Ginny, Luna, or Hermione.

But this... this felt different somehow, different than the other three. Maybe it was because he knew it was coming. Maybe it was because he had time to prepare for it. For some reason, this whole thing... kissing Hermione... it seemed to stretch out forever. He had time to feel it. He was ready for it.

And then suddenly, without warning, he realized why this felt different. He WAS ready for it, for this.

As the kiss continued, Harry became aware of a simple truth: this made sense. It didn't make sense that it made sense... and yet... it made sense.

When Cho kissed him, it was nice, to be honest, but everything about the situation had been awkward. He was terrified, paralyzed. He felt as though he had been put on the spot by standing under the mistletoe. She had been crying. And to top it all off, she was crying because of Cedric. She said she really liked me, and yet she kept thinking about him... kept bringing HIM up.

It was a little better when Ginny and Luna kissed him. It had all happened so suddenly that all he really had time for was to feel it... to feel the sensations of them kissing him. Only afterwards did he have a chance to think about what had happened. Even then, it was just how Ginny wasn't his sister, how... skilled... Luna was. But that was it.

As he stood there, kissing Hermione, he suddenly realized that he did enjoy it... but not in a way that he expected. Before their lips actually made contact, Harry never really got around to thinking about what might happen or what he might do. He assumed that it would be just like kissing the other two.

But this... here... now... it was all different. He felt as though he had all the time in the world to think about what was happening, to analyze the situation. But instead, all he did was stand there and enjoy it while it lasted.

It made sense. Those words never actually crossed through his conscious mind. It was simply a feeling that penetrated his entire body... a state of understanding, a feeling of completeness, a sense of security that one felt only when things made sense.

It was at this point that Harry did something he would wonder if he would regret. Until now, he had simply stood there and let Hermione kiss him. As that sense of security grew, he knew that he could not let go of it. And so he began to return the kiss.

He didn't really know exactly what was different about it; he didn't know if he actually did anything different, physically. Maybe it was simply a matter of intention. He wanted to kiss Hermione. He knew that he shouldn't. He knew that this was just some meaningless birthday snog. But every instinct in his being told him that he had to kiss Hermione. So he did.

As he began (in his mind, at least) to return the kiss, he vaguely became aware of the fact that he was still in a room filled with people. Everyone was watching them. He wanted desperately to be able to kiss her like he had seen in Emma's favorite movie. But he knew he couldn't. So he focused all of his attention on finishing this one kiss. He had gone into it intending it to be something for Hermione to remember. How surprised he was to find out that it was now something for him to remember.

Finally, after what seemed like years, he felt... well, sensed, actually, the strength of Hermione's kiss decrease slightly, then grow even stronger for the briefest of moments. In Harry's addled mind, it was as if she moved to break the kiss, then decided to kiss him again, even more intensely. Shortly after that, he felt his lips grow cold. So cold and alone.

He opened his eyes to see that Hermione had begun to step back away from him, her eyes still closed. As she stepped away, Harry felt and heard a great rush of sight and sound, as though he had been thrown back into the normal flow of time.

He quickly looked around the room. Everyone was looking at him exactly the same as when he kissed Ginny and Luna... looks of amusement and satisfaction. No one watching them seemed aware that anything had happened out of the ordinary. Harry was absolutely sure that if anyone suspected even a fraction of what had been racing through his mind, someone would have said something, whether in lecture, anger, or ridicule. But no one seemed nonplussed by any of it.

No one, that is, except Hermione. When Harry finally looked back at Hermione, he found that she was staring at him intently, with a slight look of confusion (and possibly fear?) on her face. Harry's stomach felt as though it fell to his feet.

She knew! Harry said to himself in panic, though he struggled to maintain a brave face. Somehow she knew! Harry was scared. He himself didn't know exactly what was going on, but it was obvious she already knew... whatever it was.

Hermione's POV...

Hermione was scared, though she tried not to show it. She had been so eager to give Harry his birthday kiss. She promised herself that she wouldn't get carried away. Harry didn't fancy her. He couldn't. She never really expected that she'd ever get the chance to kiss him the way she had wanted to for so long.

But then Ginny wrote to her, asking what they should do for Harry's sixteenth birthday. Unbeknownst to Harry, she and Ginny had written back and forth daily, sometime with Pig, sometimes with Hermes (it seemed as though Ron had been doing some letter writing as well, according to Ginny). Hermione had told Ginny that Harry didn't really want anything extravagant... it was more important to him who was there than what they did.

Quite at the last minute, yesterday to be exact (when Hermione nearly had a heart attack from seeing Harry trying to read the letter), Ginny suggested that since they weren't going to do anything else special, it'd be fun to give Harry a Sweet Sixteen birthday snog. If it were any other person, Hermione would've refused without even giving it a first thought. But she couldn't refuse this.

Even though she knew that Harry didn't think of her in that way, some part of her still clung to the hope that if the day ever came when Harry saw her differently, things might change. The fairy tale princess in her hoped that she might be able to "wake him up" with a magical kiss.

Perhaps that was why she had been so eager to kiss him. Well... to be honest, that wasn't the only reason she wanted to snog him senseless. But THAT was an entirely different matter all together. Still, some small part of her hoped that maybe if she was able to break through to him, he'd see her as someone other than the "bucktooth, bushy-haired, bossy, bookworm know-it-all" that she believed everyone thought her to be.

Even though her teeth were fixed over a year ago, anytime her self-doubt wanted to reassert itself, it always managed to summon that painful alliteration that had managed to ingrain itself upon her mind at her other school all those years ago... before Hogwarts, before Harry.

Despite everything that her heart told her, her mind was able to keep herself in line. Harry didn't fancy her. If she just went up to him and started snogging him, it would ruin everything. At the very least, she'd scare him to death. And he might even get mad at her. That would destroy any chance she might've ever had with him. Even worse, he might not want to be her friend anymore. How awkward would it be for him to be around her if he knew how she truly felt about him?

That was what scared her most of all: losing her best friend. She could deal with not being able to be with Harry the way she wanted to; she'd done it for two years now. The only reason it was even bearable was because Harry was still her best friend. If Harry didn't want to be around her anymore because he felt uncomfortable, it would absolutely and totally devastate her. She knew how he felt about being around Ginny when she still fancied him. And she'd had a front row seat (much to her secret delight) for the end of Cho.

So now... now that she had given Harry his birthday kiss, as she stepped back from him, she looked at him and realized what she had done. She went too far. The moment her lips touched his, she felt herself being swept away. Even though he was just standing there, she could feel her entire heart pouring out of her and into him in her kiss. And then she felt it.

Harry did... something. She had no idea what, but she could feel a change in the way his lips felt. Part of her, the part that believed in elf-rights, in S.P.E.W., the part of her that other people might call delusional... that part of her hoped that he was kissing her back. But the rest of her told her that Harry must have realized what she was feeling.

She knew going in that she was too eager for this. She knew that there was a very likely possibility that Harry would realize that this wasn't any ordinary kiss, that it meant something to her. And when she felt him do whatever he did, she knew it was all over. As panic began to flood into her, she moved to break the kiss.

At the last moment however, she felt like her heart was breaking, so she had to kiss him just one last time. She feared it might be the last time she would ever be near him again. Before breaking contact, she kissed him again, putting everything she had into it (at least, as much as she could without opening her mouth).

When she finally looked at him, he wasn't meeting her eyes. He was looking everywhere in the room, except at her. When he finally did look at her, she could see fear in his eyes. He knew! At that moment, she knew that Harry must have known how she felt about him... and he was afraid. She had done exactly what she had promised herself that she wouldn't do... exactly what her mother advised against.

Flashback to Harry's first day at the Grangers'...

Hermione stood there, watching Harry trying to figure everything out. "You said there's a new Fidelius Charm in place protecting me here? But your parents couldn't tell me where I was staying. Who's the Secret Keeper?"

Hermione had been waiting for what seemed like forever for this moment to arrive... ever since Professor Dumbledore agreed to move Harry to her house. It only made it better when he asked how it was all possible. Somehow, she hoped that by telling him that this was all her doing, it would somehow change how Harry looked at her. Well, that and the terribly uncomfortable T-shirt she was wearing. Suddenly, she noticed Harry's expectant, yet puzzled look and realized he had asked her a question.

Fighting to keep the huge grin on her face from taking over, she replied very quickly, "I am."

A few moments later, the water began to boil and the tea kettle whistled; Harry visibly jumped. It was just so funny to see how startled he was, it took everything she had not to start laughing right then and there. As they all went to sit down and her father transferred the water to a teapot, everyone finally began to laugh from Harry's jump.

Hermione watched very closely as Harry laughed. She couldn't really remember the last time she saw him laughing like that. That sight alone caused her heart to flutter; it made everything worth it. Writing that letter to Harry, arguing with the Headmaster. Even all of fifth year seemed worth it now... now that she saw Harry laughing out loud.

As stopped laughing, Harry stared down at the tea cup in front of him. Hermione watched him intently, trying to figure out what he was feeling. Harry began to smile slightly. She didn't know if it was from what he was feeling or if he just now noticed the school crest on the cup. As Emma slowly poured the hot water into Harry's tea cup, Hermione suddenly noticed that her mother had seen her watching Harry. She quickly turned her gaze back to Harry, only to see him look up at her. She knew she had been caught... worst of all, by both of them.

Hermione watched as her father put a hand on Harry's shoulder and led him into the living room. "Come on, Harry, let's get you settled in," he said as they left the living room. Hermione stayed at the table. She knew her mother wanted to talk to her.

Hermione watched Harry as he picked up Hedwig's cage. She could hear him talking to his owl; he spoke so softly that she couldn't make out the words. He looked happy though. That was all that mattered. He then reached in and petted her head.

Hermione continued to watch as he moved out of sight (there was no point in hiding it from her mother now), finally going upstairs with her father. When she was sure the two of them were out of earshot, she turned back and looked at her hands, which she had set on the table top in nervousness.

"So, tell me," Emma began, now that they were alone and Hermione had indicated that she was ready to listen, "how far gone are you?"

Hermione tried not to laugh. Her mother was almost always able to read her perfectly. "Am I that obvious?" Hermione asked in amused defeat.

"Only to me and your father... and only because we've read every single letter you've ever sent us from school," Emma answered with a slight smile. Hermione felt better knowing that her mother could at least smile about it.

"You do realize that in the last five years, you've never sent us a single letter that didn't mention Harry in one way or another?" Emma asked in good humor.

Hermione shook her head since she didn't realize she had done that, but then smiled since she really wasn't at all surprised that she had.

"The funny thing is... it was your father who first noticed it," Emma explained. Hermione looked at her in surprise.

"The first few letters we received, we didn't think anything one way or the other about him. He was, after all, just some boy you read about in a book. And then later, he was just the friend of another boy who was mean to you. And then he was some boy who saved your life." Emma chuckled slightly.

"Even though we were terrified to hear about the troll incident, Harry still just seemed like another classmate of yours," Emma explained. "But then Quidditch season started. When you wrote the letter mentioning Harry's first game-not Gryffindor's first game, Harry's-your father said to me, 'The day our daughter becomes interested in sports is the day there's a boy in her life.'" Both Emma and Hermione laughed lightly.

"With every letter you wrote, we knew he was something special to you. It didn't seem like you had any... feelings for him, yet, but we knew he was different than everyone else. When you came home for Christmas first year, you told us all about him. We were so happy for you. We knew things hadn't been going as smoothly at your other school."

Hermione smiled. "I remember that," she said fondly, "telling you all about Harry and Quidditch and my classes."

"In that order too, as I recall," Emma added with a smirk. Hermione turned slightly pink, but it quickly passed.

"I know that Harry is very special to you," Emma prodded gently. "When we agreed to allow Harry to stay here, we knew that you quite probably did have more than just friendly feelings for him. And we were willing to trust your intentions. But what I just witnessed a few moments ago suggests that maybe there's a little more going on than we realized. So, to my original question: how far gone are you?"

Hermione sighed then stared at her hands for a moment. "Mum?" she asked, not looking up, "how did you know when you were in love with Dad?"

Emma's head dropped slightly. "I see," she said. The way Emma said it, Hermione couldn't tell if she was happy, sad, or even angry. She had to try to explain herself a little better.

"How did you know that it was more than just some schoolgirl crush? Harry... He... I..." She paused and then sighed as she collected her thoughts, and then continued "All I know is that he's more than just my best friend... at least to me." Hermione then finally looked up at her mother.

Hermione could see a wide variety of emotions on her mother's face. But most of all there was happiness mixed with guarded concern. "Well," Emma started, a little uncertain of where to begin with her daughter, "why don't you tell me a little more about you and Harry?"

"Well, you already know most everything there is to know," Hermione began. "I'm sure I've given you his life history in my letters over the last five years. He's my best-"

"No," Emma interrupted, "tell me about you and Harry," she clarified.

Hermione nodded, then looked down at her hands as she wrung them nervously.

"Perhaps I should start at the beginning," Hermione suggested; Emma nodded with a slight smile. "It all started on the train ride into school. One of the other students lost his pet toad, so I was helping him look for it. I walked in on a small, bespectacled little boy who was watching his new friend try to cast a spell. It wasn't a real spell, of course.

"Somehow I knew that he was just like me, from a non-magical family. I could just see the wonder and excitement in his eyes as he watched Ron wave his wand around. He seemed rather put out when nothing happened." Hermione paused for a moment then smiled slightly. "Then again, that could have just been from me. I, ah, seem to remember coming across as rather abrasive with Ron. Little did I know that it would mark the beginning of five years of abrasion with Harry's other best friend," Hermione chuckled in good humor.

"The school year began to progress," Hermione continued. "I began to notice how I was starting to drift away from my classmates. I just felt like I had to prove myself against everyone else who came from magical families." Hermione looked up at her mother to see her grinning at her. Emma then looked at her wrist as if to check the time.

"Yes, yes, I know. I know. Harry. Get to Harry. I'm just trying to put it into context," Hermione explained exasperated, though with a smile. She knew her mother was just teasing... but not by much. Hermione could easily sit there all night recounting the story if she wasn't prodded along a little.

"The point was," Hermione said, mock-glaring at her mother, "that Harry and I weren't friends, but at least he didn't seem to dislike me like I felt everyone else did." She paused to take a deep breath. "And then came Halloween. I already told you about the troll, and what Harry did. But I never told you how I felt afterwards.

"I was absolutely terrified. I just knew I was going to die right there. And then he went and jumped on the troll's back. Ron was the one who knocked it out with its own club, but I'll never forget the sight of Harry hanging there on that troll's back. To a small, petrified, twelve year old girl, seeing him like that, risking his own life to save mine, with literally no thought beforehand whatsoever of the risk to himself, he just seemed... larger than life. I know it seems so cliché, but that's how I felt. Harry was the hero who saved my life.

"From that point on, we were friends. All three of us," Hermione quickly added. "He was just a friend. Then, at the end of the year, he went to face Quirrell and Voldemort. I was so scared that I might lose him, my first real friend. I practically jumped on him, hugging him. I told him I thought he was a great wizard. You know what he said?" she asked her mother, who shook her head.

"He told me that he thought I was better than he was. 'Books! And cleverness!' I told him. 'Friendship and bravery' were more important, I said. I knew then that Harry was different, that he was special to me, more than just a friend. But I didn't know why." Hermione looked back down at her hands and smiled, slightly embarrassed at the memory.

"I really wasn't interested in boys yet, so he was just special, somehow. I guess that's when I started to consider him my best friend. I didn't know if I was his best friend, and I really didn't care. He was my best friend, and that was all that really mattered to me.

"Another year went by. Harry had another whole new set of adventures, and we became closer friends... all three of us, really," she added honestly. "Everyone thought he was the heir of Slytherin, attacking the other students, so it was a rough year for him. But then again, when has he ever had an easy year?" Hermione added, almost as an afterthought.

"Things started to change slowly in third year. Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban and was after Harry, or so we all thought. I was worried. I was scared that I might lose my friend. It terrified me when Ron was attacked. Partly because my other friend was in danger, but mostly because it could've been my Harry," Hermione said shakily. Emma was barely able to keep a neutral expression when Hermione said "my Harry." She needed to hear the rest of the story to decide what to make of it.

"Every time something happened that year that scared me, Harry managed to come out okay," she said with an obvious look of relief that was beginning to mix with another, more affectionate look. "Every time he came out okay, I could feel a wave of relief and happiness wash over me. I could feel myself being drawn closer to him, emotionally.

"I told myself that it was perfectly natural for someone to feel that way when their best friend dodges a bullet, and that it was nothing more than that," Hermione explained. "But deep down, I knew that I didn't have as intense a reaction when Ron came through his scary moments."

Hermione stopped for a moment to get a glass of water, partly to help relax herself, and partly because her throat was getting irritated. She'd spoken more today than she had in the weeks since arriving home.

"It's after lunchtime," Emma said quietly. "Do you want anything?"

"I'm not too terribly hungry right now," Hermione said as she stood by the sink, looking out the window into their backyard. "My stomach's still a little jumpy from the anticipation of seeing Harry. Want to split a sandwich?"

Emma smiled and headed for the bread box. "What would you like?"

"Peanut butter and jam?" Hermione requested.

Emma turned around to look incredulously at her daughter, smiling all the while. "It's been a few years since I've made one of those for you," Emma said happily.

"I may be nearly of age in the wizarding world, but you'll always be my Mummy... with or without bandages," Hermione said as she took her glass of water and sat down, fondly remembering her favorite Halloween costume that her mother wore.

Emma smiled slightly, quickly turning around to return to the bread box. Hermione could see her raise her hand to her eyes. "I'll make it, and you continue your story dear," Emma said as she headed to the cabinet where the peanut butter was, keeping her back to her. "You said you could feel yourself being drawn to Harry, but not Ron," she said, reminding Hermione.

"Oh yeah. Well, everything came into focus at the end of the year," Hermione explained. "We had gone back in time to rescue-"

Hermione was interrupted when her mother began to chuckle. "I'm sorry dear," Emma said as she turned around, rubbing her face in amusement with her hand. "You know how your father and I love sci-fi, but I still can't get over the fact that you really have traveled through time." Emma smiled and shook her head in amazement, and pride. "My daughter has actually traveled through time."

Hermione allowed her mother to enjoy her moment. Using a Time Turner didn't have quite the same excitement as driving a DeLorean eighty-eight miles per hour or accelerating past Warp 10 as you slingshot around the sun, especially when you were trying to take multiple classes at once, as well as saving two innocents from an unjust death. And it was gigawatt, not jiggawatt, the perfectionist in Hermione complained to herself, recalling her biggest cinematic pet peeve. After a few seconds, Emma gestured her hand towards Hermione to indicate that she could continue.

"So, Harry and I had gone back in time to rescue Sirius and Buckbeak," Hermione said with a smirk, emphasizing those words. "We had to use Buckbeak to fly up to a window. I was terrified. I hated flying. But what choice did I have? Tell my best friend, 'Sorry, I can't help you rescue your godfather because I'm scared'?

"So, I let Harry help me up onto Buckbeak. He climbed on, then we took off. I remember quite vividly muttering, 'I don't like this - oh, I really don't like this,'" Hermione recalled. A very contented look then appeared on her face. "I was so scared that I held on to Harry with all my strength. I pretty much just buried my face in his back.

"When Buckbeak made a sudden turn, I was startled and inhaled suddenly," Hermione explained. "He was a little... not his freshest... from running around. But more than that, I noticed something else. The first time around, he had been attacked by the dementors. He had stains all over him from when he fell to the grass. As I sat there, holding on for dear life, I remembered smelling the grass."

Hermione paused and smiled to herself. "It reminded me of the Quidditch pitch where I always watched Harry play. I remembered thinking that I was holding onto Harry for my life. I smelled him, the grass stains on his clothes. I closed my eyes and suddenly I felt safe. There I was, terrified of flying... I was probably fifty feet off the ground on the back of a flying horse, and I felt absolutely safe, holding onto Harry. I knew that I never wanted to let go of that feeling, ever again."

Hermione looked up at Emma who had sat down across from her. In her recollection, Hermione hadn't seen her set the half sandwich down in front of her. Emma was smiling, holding her partially eaten sandwich in her hand; her eyes were glistening.

Hermione took this moment to begin eating her sandwich. Emma sat there for a moment, thinking about what her daughter had just said. A sudden look of realization appeared on her face.

"And then you came home and heard me listening to 'Holding Out for a Hero'?" Emma asked. "I remember you coming out of your room, suddenly very interested in that song." She then thought for a moment again. "'Isn't there a white knight, upon a fiery steed?' Hermione smiled, nodded, and blushed lightly.

"But what was even worse than that..." Hermione said, letting her voice trail off. "Do you know anything about hippogriffs?" she asked her mother, who shook her head. "They're symbols of love," Hermione explained simply. "They're also symbols of the impossible... there's a medieval saying, 'to mate griffins with horses.' Kind of like 'when pigs fly.'" Hermione saw the inquisitive look on her mother's face. "I was motivated to do a little research on hippogriffs," she explained.

"For a while, I was sure that it was a sign that I didn't, couldn't, or shouldn't have feelings for Harry. A hippogriff was a sign of the impossible. But then I realized that that didn't matter. It represented the impossible, and yet... there it was. It was real. It existed. I had flown on the back of one, holding onto someone that made me feel safe, holding on for my life... holding on to my life?" Hermione said quietly, almost as if asking herself.

"Fortunately, the school year ended soon after that," Hermione continued. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to be around Harry until I had sorted everything. I was deathly afraid that he'd find out. Practically half the girls in school had secret crushes on him. The last thing he needed was to find out that I did too. Plus I was afraid he would tell me that he didn't like me back."

She took a few bites of her sandwich and continued her story. "As fourth and fifth years went by, my feelings for him only grew. It, of course, didn't help at all," Hermione said, smiling, "that he always seemed to come to me for help. But he never talked to me about Cho, thank heavens, until it was already too late.

"I saw him in fourth and fifth years constantly sneaking glances at her when he thought no one was looking. Truth be told, I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been sneaking looks at him," she admitted with a guilty grin.

Emma chuckled slightly. "Yeah, I remember that, all too well back in my day."

"So I sat there and watched him watch her. It hurt a little," Hermione said with a sigh. "And I was jealous of her as well. But I had convinced myself that it would never work out with them anyway. Desperate? Maybe. But it was what I believed. She was already going out with Cedric in fourth year.

"I knew Harry wasn't going to ask me to the ball. He was too focused on her to notice anything else. I'm not sure, but I don't think he even noticed Cedric until he realized that he was her dance partner. I was so glad that I had already said yes to Viktor when Ron asked me to go.

"It just infuriated me to no end that Ron had assumed that no one would ask me, and that he expected me to just simply sit around and wait for him to ask me. We argued, really argued, after the ball. He was mad that I went with Viktor. He said that he had wanted to go with me all along. If he'd really wanted to go with me, he should've just asked. I probably would've said yes. The truth was that I only went with Viktor because I really did believe no one else would ask me." Emma looked at her knowingly, and Hermione grinned sheepishly in response. "Well, I may have been a bit flattered, too... being noticed by such a famous wizard, that all the girls seemed to have a crush on, and he asked me to go with him."

Hermione paused for a moment. "I wasn't willing to give up on Harry just yet, but I also refused to be one of those people who wastes their life away, pining for something they can't have. In my heart of hearts, I believed that Harry and Cho wouldn't work out, so I was willing to wait. But, in the meantime, I promised myself that if anyone better came along, that I would not let it pass me by."

Hermione was still staring at her hands, as she had for most of her entire story, so she did not see her mother begin to smile when she said "if anyone better." "After my date with Viktor, I realized then I truly believed that there was no one better than Harry. Viktor was nice," she admitted. "He had his little quirks that were... annoying, but I promised myself that I'd give him a chance.

"When he asked me to come visit him in Bulgaria over the summer-" Hermione started to say when Emma suddenly dropped the last bit of her sandwich on her plate.

"You were only fifteen!" Emma interrupted, shocked.

"I know," Hermione replied defensively. "He told me that he never felt like that about anyone else before." Emma scoffed in disbelief. "I believed him, Mum. The point is that when he said that, I realized that we weren't on the same page. He was nice, you know, and I was happy that he wanted to take me to the ball. But I was NOWHERE near ready for anything like that. And, even if I was ready for that kind of commitment, I wasn't going to run off to another country after one dance.

"The truth was that I just didn't feel any chemistry with him. When he kissed me goodnight after the ball, I didn't feel anything. Nothing. When they left to go home, he pulled me aside and asked again if I would come visit him. I told him I couldn't, that I just didn't return the feelings he had."

Hermione then smiled slightly. "He told me that he understood... that he too knew what it was like to fancy someone and not have them return those feelings. He said that as he glanced back at Harry. Evidently, I, uh, mentioned Harry a few times when Viktor and I were together."

Emma smirked. "A few times?" she asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and tilted her head to one side as if to say "Guilty as charged." "He told me that I shouldn't give up on someone if I really cared about him, at least not until I knew that it was too late. Just like how he wasn't going to give up on me.

"He asked if we could still be friends, write letters occasionally. He promised he wouldn't make the first move. I had already... politely declined once, so he said he was willing to just be my friend if that's what I wanted. But he left it open, saying that if I ever changed my mind... I didn't have the heart to tell him that I knew I wouldn't.

"But, at the same time, it actually gave me a little hope. For all intents and purposes, here was the Bulgarian version of Harry, in terms of how everyone else saw them. Here he was, and he fancied me. It gave me hope that that if Harry got over Cho, he might see me. No one else seemed interested in me... at least no one who could carry on a civilized conversation without constantly fighting with me... so I didn't see any harm in holding out hope."

"After the train ride home, when no one was looking, I kissed Harry goodbye on the platform. Partly because he looked like he needed it, and partly because I wanted to," Hermione admitted, mostly to herself.

"When fifth year came, it was all I could do to just be there for him. Everything was going wrong for him and he wasn't the most pleasant person to be around. I already told you about most of it. The dementors, the trial, the nightmares, Occlumency, Umbridge." Even Emma's eyes narrowed at the name of the professor she had heard so much about.

"But what I didn't tell you about was Harry and Cho. They got together, finally, around Christmas, but things were already on the rocks by Valentine's Day. Hearing her in the loos, all she did was cry over Cedric. And that was the last thing Harry would've wanted to talk about. When she wasn't crying over him, she was bad mouthing me, for being Harry's friend."

A decidedly wicked smile appeared across Hermione's face. "And she was right to be jealous of me," she said with a chuckle. "I was after her boyfriend. But she obviously refused to believe that I wouldn't try to steal him from her, like he was some sort of trophy.

"But what was worse was that she couldn't see that Harry did fancy her, and that he didn't fancy me. I'm just guessing here, since he didn't talk about her much, but I'm willing to bet that she would've, at some point, forced him to pick between her as a girlfriend and me as just a friend."

Hermione smirked again. "Now, of course I don't know for sure, but I like to tell myself that he would've picked me... as just a friend. Harry really didn't like her crying all the time, and I think he took it hard when her friend ratted us out."

"Is that the one you told us broke your contract?" Emma started to ask.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling too broadly. "So then at the end of the year, we went to the Department of Mysteries to rescue Sirius. When I was hit, as I fell to the ground, I remember telling myself 'It was all worth it,' before I lost consciousness." Hermione absent-mindedly rubbed where Dolohov's curse had struck her. The visible scars were gone, and she was down to one potion a month until school started again.

"And then I came home, and the rest, I think, you know," Hermione finished.

"Whatever happened with Viktor after he left?" Emma asked, surprising Hermione.

"We wrote to each other several times. Truthfully, I did enjoy writing to him. However, I only ever replied to his letters. I was never the first one to send one. Then in March, I think it was, he sent me his last letter, saying that he had met someone... someone very special."

An embarrassed, but happy smile came over Hermione. "He told me that he had secretly been comparing every girl he met to me, and he finally found someone who was worthy of me." She laughed fondly. "He told me that he meant that as the highest compliment he could think to give me. He told me that he had found his own Hermione, so he wished me all the luck in getting my Harry."

Emma sat there for a few moments, thinking about all that her daughter had just told her. "What are your feelings for Harry right now?" she asked bluntly.

Hermione quickly looked into the living room to make sure her dad and Harry were still upstairs. "Harry... means the world to me. He..." her lower lip began to tremble slightly, "he... I can't imagine my life without him anymore. I know that sounds drastic at sixteen, but I truly can't. Even if he were to fall in love with someone else... I'd be devastated of course, but as long as he was still my friend, I'd survive.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with him, but I'd give my life in a heartbeat to save his," Hermione said as her eyes began to tear up. They were, however, tears of raw emotion, both happy and sad. "Harry's my first crush, and I'm only sixteen, so I don't want to throw the L-word around. That word means too much to me to use it lightly. But at the same time, however, I feel so strongly for him that I have to at least wonder about that word."

Emma studied her daughter very carefully. "Do you want to have sex with him?"

"MUM!!!" Hermione shouted as loudly as she could in a whisper.

"It's a perfectly fair question to ask," Emma said, "especially since he's going to be living with us. The only reason I ask," she tried to explain, "is that I see in you some of the things I remember from when your father and I were dating. I don't know if you're in love. Only you can answer that. But I am pretty sure that this is more than just a passing fancy."

Emma broke eye contact for a moment to allow both of them a chance to collect themselves. After a few moments, she then turned to her daughter again. "I also happen to see that you're wearing a shirt that you haven't worn since I first took you bra shopping. Honestly, dear! Were you trying to give him a heart attack when he first saw you?"

Hermione immediately turned bright red and put her face in her hands. After a few seconds, she began to chuckle. "This shirt is awful, isn't it?" she asked her mother as she looked up, after wiping away the evidence of her earlier emotion.

"Well... I'm sure Harry enjoyed it. But can you see where I'm coming from, dear? You've told me how important Harry is to you, and then I see that you've... put yourself on display. Can you at least understand why I might want to know your feelings on that? We had 'the talk' years ago, and I even signed that permission form you owled to us. Do they really only teach that to the girls?" Emma asked, suddenly switching topics.

Hermione was secretly grateful for the change of subject. When her mother mentioned about when she and Dan were dating, Hermione knew that they were getting dangerously close to the one subject in the world that Hermione could not handle: her parent's sex lives. Hermione could spend hours talking about sex with her mother... it was simply all academic to her. The talks they had about pregnancy, diseases, the moral and social contexts, they all didn't faze her in the slightest. It was all just information.

Hermione was even perfectly comfortable talking about her personal feelings about her own sex life... since it was still entirely theoretical. But if her mother even mentioned a single word about the fact that she and her father had ever had sex (even though, intellectually, she knew they had to have done so at least once...), it really made Hermione uncomfortable. She herself was amused by the fact that she'd rather face Death Eaters than listen to one more story that ended with "and then we... oh, never mind."

"Like I told you once, the wizarding world is still a little old fashioned," Hermione explained. "They feel that only the girls can be trusted with that kind of information. Part of me doesn't agree with that mentality, that that information should be restricted. Then again, part of me also wonders what the school'd be like if every male, third year and up, knew that with a single word they wouldn't have to worry about getting a girl pregnant.

"It's kind of nice, actually, knowing that they do have to worry about getting a girl pregnant, especially since we're the ones who have to carry the child... oh, sorry," Hermione said quietly as she looked up at her mother. Emma shook her head to indicate no apology was necessary. "If they all knew a second, simple word protects against diseases... well, let's just say that I'm sure the broom closets would no longer be safe for brooms.

"You know what the really sad thing about all that is?" Hermione asked her mother. "That the 'special meeting' with Madam Pomfrey and Professors McGonagall and Sprout actually started out centuries ago as the exact opposite. Back when marriages were arranged and people got married at fourteen to sixteen, that class originally started as a way for the school nurse to teach the girls about... married life."

"So, Hermione, do you want to have sex with Harry?" Emma asked bluntly, changing the subject back again. Hermione looked down at her hands and mumbled something unintelligible, though Emma was pretty sure of what she said. "Sorry?"

Hermione closed her eyes, looked up at where she knew her mother's eyes were, and then opened them. "I said... at some point, yes." Hermione fidgeted in her chair slightly. "Look, I don't know whether it will be on my wedding night, on my engagement night, or next Thursday night. You know what I mean," she added defensively when her Emma blinked at the 'next Thursday' part.

"All I can promise you is that I am in no rush to do that. And I decided years ago that I was not going to commit my body until I had already committed my heart, mind, and soul to someone. Believe it or not, my mind would actually be the last to agree, since I wouldn't... until I knew that he... whoever he was... until I knew that he had also committed his heart, mind, and soul to me.

"That... the way you described it, the merging of two bodies into one, it sounded too... meaningful... to simply throw it around casually, even though I knew I could, if I wanted to, what with the protection spells that we learned. I've actually heard several girls talking about it in the loos or in the dormitories when I was on rounds... about their first times.. Most of them made it sound so rushed, so awkward, that I knew that wasn't what I wanted to do." Hermione then closed her eyes and rested her head in her hand again, waiting for her mother to speak.

Emma cleared her throat. "Hermione, dear. I just wanted to tell you that I'm proud that you've decided to not rush into anything, especially considering that you know how to... take care of yourself, in both the magical and non-magical worlds. This is a decision you have to make for yourself. Please remember, if you ever want to talk to me or your father about anything, our door will always be open."

A slight, guilty grin appeared on Emma's face. Unfortunately, Hermione did not notice it until it was too late. "Unless of course our door is closed. Then you should really knock first."

"MUM!!" Hermione hissed.

"And speaking of doors being open," Emma continued, eager to get out from under Hermione's death glare. "Considering where we are now, there is one last thing I want to tell you. I know how uncomfortable you get when I tell you... personal stories, so I'll try to spare you the details. But I need for you to listen."

Hermione wanted to complain, but her mother had never actually requested that she listen to a "personal story." They usually just happened by accident. So she decided that she would give her mother the benefit of the doubt.

"As you know, your father and I met in our first year at university. By second year, we were dating seriously. At the time, we both felt that we might've found the person with whom we wanted to spend rest of our lives. At one point, your father's dormitory roommate left for the weekend. We both decided we wanted to sleep together... JUST sleep.

"We'd both fallen asleep together on the dormitory common room couch enough times trying to pull all-nighters that we both realized that we enjoyed the feeling of waking up next to each other, so we wanted to try it for real... but only that. Friday night came and went, and we woke up together Saturday morning, without anything else happening.

"We were so happy. We had the most wonderful evening the night before and started the day perfectly, waking up together... all without taking things too far. Dan took me to lunch, we saw a movie, and then we went back to the dormitory. Since it was Saturday, the other students were rather boisterous, so I closed the door behind me as we walked in to help block some of the noise. I also locked it since his next door neighbor liked to just walk in unannounced to visit Dan's roommate.

"I thought that was rather rude, so I locked the door... for that reason and no other. It was early afternoon, so we just hung out, listening to music, talking about the movie. At some point, your father said something entirely innocent... I honestly don't remember what. I just suddenly stared at him, tackled him, and starting snogging him senseless.

"It wasn't the first time I had done that, but after the day, and night, we had had, it was just different this time. I could feel raw desire coursing through my veins. It was obvious he did too. Skipping ahead," Emma said, emphasizing that she was leaving certain details out, "we both woke up several hours later, around dinner time. We were content, in each others arms, wearing nothing but our smiles.

"It then suddenly dawned on us what we had done. While by no means did either of us regret it, we were, however, absolutely terrified. It all happened so suddenly, we hadn't taken any precautions. Fortunately, we were each other's firsts, so there was no concern in that area, at least. But neither of us wanted to be parents at nineteen.

"When nothing came of it, we were so relieved." Emma sighed slightly. "Though, looking back, if we had known then how hard it would be for us to conceive when we were ready, we wouldn't have been so happy that nothing happened then..." Emma trailed off, then looked at her daughter. It was obvious that Hermione was uncomfortable, but she was paying attention.

"The point, my beautiful, miracle baby, is that when you care for someone that deeply, when you're at the point when you wonder about the L-word, the time will come when you will want to be with them, physically. From the sounds of things, you at least know that, for you, that time is not now.

"When it does come, whether it's on your wedding night, your engagement night, or next Thursday night, it will hit you hard. It's hard to understand what that means if you haven't felt it for yourself. When that time comes, you won't be able to stop yourself... you won't want to. And if you've put yourself in a situation where you don't HAVE to stop yourself, you won't. You may end up doing something that can't be taken back.

"Look, all I'm saying is that it's your decision. If you know that the time is not now, then just... don't close the door. Leave the door open. If we'd left the door open, we would've had to stop to close the door. That would have at least given one of us a few seconds to allow the hormones to settle slightly, to give us a chance to catch our breaths.

"It's a remarkably effective... calming method... knowing that, with the door open, a neighbor might walk by unexpectedly... or when I was visiting him at his home, the possibility that his parents might walk in on us suddenly."

Emma stopped for a few moments to finish off her sandwich. Hermione was sitting there, staring blankly at her still mostly uneaten sandwich, lost in deep thought.

"Tell me something, dear. Why did you want Harry to stay with us?" Emma asked gently.

"Because he needed to get away from his relatives," Hermione answered honestly. "He needed to be somewhere where he would receive support to help him with the loss of Sirius. I hate to say it, but it's clear now that, if I hadn't interfered, he wasn't going to get that from the Headmaster. The Weasleys are too tied up now with their own familial problems to be there for him. Besides, I think Mrs. Weasley would have smothered him. He as sure as hell wouldn't have gotten it from the Dursleys. So, as far as I could see, that left only me... us."

"Was there any other reason you wanted him here as well?" Emma asked, knowing her daughter all too well.

"I missed him. I wanted to see him, to be near him. Even if he doesn't return my feelings, I still have them. He makes me happy just being around him." Emma smiled lightly and patted Hermione's hand affectionately. She then stared at Hermione again, waiting for the last part, waiting for the reason she wore that particular shirt.

Hermione looked down at the table again, then looked back up. "And... a small part of me was hoping that if we could spend some time together, even with you and Dad around, that maybe he'd start to see me a little differently. That's why I wore this shirt. I wanted him to realize that this was me at home, not me at school."

"But dear, this," Emma said, indicating her shirt, "isn't you at home."

"I know," Hermione conceded, "I just needed to... make a strong first impression."

Emma thought for a moment, unsure if she should be amused or not. "What impression exactly did you want to make?"

"All I wanted to do," Hermione answered honestly, "was to make sure the last thing he saw me as was 'Hermione at school.' He's so used to seeing me in my school uniform and my regular clothes that I had to find something that he's never seen before. And it wouldn't hurt if it reminded him that I was a girl. But I promise you that that was all I had in mind.

"I wasn't going to jump him, or anything like that. And I didn't intend to wear this again." Hermione fidgeted in her seat a little. "This shirt is horribly uncomfortable," she said with a chuckle.

"The last thing Harry needs right now is some girl throwing herself at him, especially his best friend."

"Best friends make the best lovers," Emma suggested, watching her daughter's reaction carefully.

"My point is that that is not what he needs right now. All I want to do is be there for him. Period. Now... if he happens to start to look at me differently along the way..." Hermione said with a slight grin as she trailed off. "But this shirt definitely goes back in the dresser."

"Or, better yet, into the rag bin. I'm really surprised you were able to squeeze into it today. You know, sometimes boys are more likely to notice little things about a girl he fancies than if you just hit him over the head with an anvil," Emma offered. "If you come on too strongly, sometimes it scares them away."

"That's certainly true," Hermione agreed, thinking of her other best friend. She was pretty sure Ron had fancied her since at least fourth year, but if fighting with her was how he showed it, then she could certainly consider that "coming on too strongly," and it certainly had not endeared him upon her.

"If all you truly want to do is be there for him, then just do that. Don't worry about anything else," Emma advised. "I guarantee you will slip up every once in a while and do or say something that will hint at your true feelings for him. If he's paying attention, he'll notice. He may not put it all together, but he'll notice.

"If, as you hope, he ever gets to the point where he does start to notice you, I guarantee you he'll start watching you, trying to figure out how you feel about him. But," Emma conceded, "if that time never comes, then at least you'll never have to worry about doing something that can't be undone... like just walking up to him and snogging him senseless.

"I don't envy you, dear, in this. Falling for your best friend is possibly the most dangerous thing to do in a relationship. But it is also potentially the most rewarding," Emma said with a happy sigh. "Your father is my best friend. Sometimes you just have to take a chance. Take a chance that you might lose him. But only you can decide when the time is to take that chance. That said, it seems obvious that that time is not now.

"Just be there for him. Don't worry about the rest. The rest will take care of itself," Emma finished confidently. Seeing that Hermione was listening intently, she could not resist adding one last thing. "And leave the door open," she said with a wicked smile.

"Mum!" Hermione complained. Emma held up her hands as a peace offering.

"I just couldn't resist. And dear, I did know what you meant when you said 'next Thursday,'" Emma explained. "It just caught me off guard because I thought you told me a couple of days ago that Harry's birthday was next Thursday."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Oh no! I completely forgot about that." She looked pleading at her mother. "I still haven't figured out what to get him for his birthday." Her eyes went wide again when she realized what she had said earlier. "OH!" she gasped, "I swear that I didn't mean anything by 'next Thursday,' I just meant it as any random date. I-"

"It's okay dear, I understand. Your reaction alone was proof enough of that. What is the date next Thursday, anyway? The thirty-first? The first?" Emma asked, more to herself. "We've been so busy lately with parents bringing their kids in during the summer holiday..."

"Mum, do we still need to go shopping? Harry really needs some new clothes. All he has, other than his school uniform, are seconds from his cousin, which obviously don't fit."

"Yeah," Emma confirmed. "We need to get some groceries. We can go to the department store as well."

"Would you do me a favor?" Hermione asked after finishing her sandwich. "If you or Dad see him looking at anything that might make a nice present, would you please let me know? I was so focused on getting him here that I forgot about picking something out. The last thing I want to get him is a book, so I'm hoping he'll see something that he might like. Can you ask Dad for me?"

"I will, dear," Emma agreed after setting the dishes in the sink. "Speaking of your father and Harry, I should probably go check on them. They've been awfully quiet up there. I guess that means he hasn't started yelling death threats at Harry about living under the same roof as you," Emma teased.

"Dad wouldn't do that, would he?" Hermione asked.

"No, I don't think so, dear," Emma replied. "But I wouldn't put it past him to tease Harry with a warning about making you mad," she said, grinning.

"Harry knows better than that. Both he and Ron were there when I smacked Malfoy. I don't think they'll ever forget that," Hermione said, looking quite satisfied as she recalled that memory.

Hermione then stood up from the table and she and Emma headed back to the living room. Not knowing how long until they would leave to go shopping, Hermione went and sat back down on the sofa, picking up the book she had been reading while she waited for her parents to return from the Dursleys' with Harry. Emma started up the stairs towards the guest room, which was now Harry's room.

End flashback...

Hermione had done exactly what she had promised herself that she wouldn't do... exactly what her mother had warned her about. She went too far. She knew that she was starting to get carried away when she started recalling lines from her favorite song. Once she started however, she couldn't stop herself. Her mother's words echoed in her mind. "Then at least you'll never have to worry about doing something that can't be undone... like just walking up to him and snogging him senseless."

That was exactly what she did. It was under the guise of a birthday snog, but standing there, finally feeling what she had waited two years for, she lost her head and let her heart take control, always a dangerous scenario with an unwitting partner and a room full of witnesses.

Hermione wanted to leave. She wanted to run and hide under some rock somewhere. But she knew she couldn't. The only thing worse than getting caught by Harry would have been to make a scene and try to escape in front of everyone else. She was pretty sure Harry wouldn't say anything to anyone, but if she suddenly bolted for the door, he'd have to explain then. And then everyone would know, and Harry wouldn't want to see her anymore, and her life would just be over.

And it was all her fault. You brought this all upon yourself, she chastised herself. At least you had no control over what Cho did or didn't do. This is ALL your own doing!

And so Hermione put on a brave face and pretended like nothing happened. All she had to do was make it through the rest of the party, and then she could go home and drown herself in her misery.

--- Harry's POV ---

Harry stood there, still absolutely terrified at what he had done. He watched as a range of expressions crossed across Hermione's face, all within a few seconds. He still wasn't sure what had just happened. All he knew for certain was that when he kissed Hermione, something happened.

Fortunately, with the present giving and kissing portion of the party over, everyone began to break up and started to swarm around the other table with the four trays of Molly's finest. Harry waited for an opportune moment to excuse himself to "wash his hands." He then made a beeline for the nearest bathroom.

Once inside the bathroom, he locked the door, put the toilet lid down, then sat down, propping his elbows on his knees, resting his forehead in his hands.

Something just happened. He needed to figure out what.

Something... that's the understatement of the century, Harry said to himself sarcastically.

If you're so smart, then you tell me what happened, the other voice in his mind replied. For the first time, it really freaked Harry out hearing that part of his mind in Hermione's voice. He had always... maybe not enjoyed it, exactly, since it was usually the part that pointed out when he was wrong, but it had at least always been a comforting presence.

Our best friend just snogged us, and it was the most amazing experience in the world. Better than flying! Better than Quidditch! Better than casting a silencing charm on the curtains and... You know, it's a damn good thing there's a numbing charm in effect right now! I can just see it now: 'Hello, my name is Harry Pervert Potter. I just snogged my best friend and then got excited by it!' Wouldn't that have been a laugh for everyone to see?! Bloody brilliant!

You know, NOW is probably NOT the best time to be thinking about THAT!

And what's even worse, we SNOGGED HER BACK!! AND WE WANTED TO!!

Well... is there anything wrong with that? You seem to be so certain that we wanted to. If that's true, then what's the problem?

What's the problem?? She's our BEST FRIEND!!

So?

So? SO?? You... I... You obviously just don't understand. Not for the first time, the part of Harry that tended to react first and think later was at a loss what to make of everything. At the same time, that other part of him simply sat there and did nothing, except gather data and wait to make a final decision.

So what do we do now? the "Stupefy first and ask questions later" part of him asked.

Now, we go back to the party and have lunch. We'll just give her her space, but not be obvious about it, of course. If she really wants to talk about what happened, she'll pull us aside, or wait until we get home. Or, if she's really angry, she'll hex us into oblivion as soon as she sees us. Either way, I don't see any point in worrying about it now and ruining the party.

Yeah, that's true, I suppose. And... there IS cake...

Harry stood up, washed his hands, then opened the door to go rejoin the party.

--- Hermione's POV ---

Hermione was secretly grateful when Harry went to wash his hands. It gave her a few minutes to collect herself. If she'd just walked right up to him, she'd probably just start apologizing right there in front of everyone. She needed to catch her breath, and wait to see what Harry did first.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ginny waving her over to the buffet table. Deciding this was the perfect diversion, she went over and joined her friend. As she reached for a plate, she noticed that she still had a few smudges of frosting on her fingers. There must have been some on the handle. Deciding she could stand a little soap herself, she headed for the nearest bathroom.

She assumed that if Harry was feeling uncomfortable around her, he'd head for the farthest bathroom, just to delay his return as long as possible. That's what she'd do; that's why she didn't. When she got to the bathroom, she reached for the doorknob.

--- Harry's POV ---

Harry opened the bathroom door to find Hermione standing right in front of it, with her hand stretched out to grab the knob. He jumped in surprise; Hermione did too.

"Geez, Hermione. You scared me half to death," Harry said with a chuckle as his adrenaline-spiked heart rate began to drop.

"I could say the same thing, Harry," she replied, equally amused.

As he saw a smile break across her otherwise impassive face, Harry could feel that annoying swooping sensation return and his heart rate begin to elevate. He could not stand to look at her face any more. The longer he did, the stronger the feeling became.

As he drew his eyes down towards his feet, where he knew they were safest, he happened to see a few traces of frosting still on her fingers. He smiled and then looked back up at her.

"Went a little crazy with the frosting there, didn't you?" Harry asked with a cheesy grin on his face. That was lame, he complained to himself.

Hermione held up her hand for a moment and looked at it. "Yeah, there must've been a little on the handle of the spoon."

As both he and Hermione looked at her hand, Harry suddenly thought of an even better way to remove the frosting from her hand. He then quickly decided he needed to get back to the party before any other bright ideas entered his mind.

"Well, the bathroom's all yours," Harry said quickly, eager to put some distance between them, while he still could.

"Thanks," Hermione said kindly. She stepped back to let him out, then went in and turned on the tap to wash her hand.

Harry returned with great haste back to the party. What the hell was that all about? he wondered as he hurried down the hall. Just like with the Portkey and that hand-holding thing earlier, he had a pretty good idea of what that was all about, but he was hoping to find some other explanation for what just happened.

A/N: Please note, there may be a delay in the next chapter. I am working on a personal project in anticipation of a certain event come November 18.

A friend asked me if I was going to reread the book before I went to see the movie. I told them the answer was easy: no. I know that there's no way to turn a 734 page book into a 2 ½ hour movie without cutting out certain parts. And other parts will need to be changed to tie up any bits left dangling due to the deletions. And even more parts will be changed simply because they don't translate well from the written page to the cinematic screen. I enjoy the book, and I want to enjoy the movie, so I will be viewing them as separate entities. The movie is BASED on the book; the book is not a script for the movie. The easiest way for me to enjoy each as they are is to not focus on every single difference. Just my two Knuts.