The House Elves Want To Be Freed, Harry.

Hermione and Luna were having what could perhaps have been called a blazing argument. Well--Hermione seemed to be blazing, but Luna still had on that maddeningly serene look on her face that always seemed to just fuel Hermione's fire even more in these situations. Luna's bizarre stories and theories had managed to slip passed Hermione's backlashes for a little while after the end of their fifth year, but she'd seemed to have come to the end of her patience.

Hermione had taken to bickering with Luna almost as much as she did with Ron, and, usually, the conversations they managed to have could be very amusing--Ron certainly seemed to enjoy the times when Hermione's attention shifted from him and his missing assignments to Luna and her blibbering nackledirks.

Harry never particularly enjoyed seeing Hermione get upset and bothered about anything, but even he could see the humor in some of the arguments between Hermione and her usual see-it-to-believe-it policy, and Luna, with her anything-is-possible way of life.

And, really, almost everyone (even Ron) had to admit--both girls were dead clever. Hermione seemed to be at her top Hermione-game when having these 'discussions' with Luna, and, after listening to her long enough, anybody would have to admit that Luna really did belong in Ravenclaw.

Usually not too much came from their arguments except for one or both slinking off in a huff; but they were usually fine the next day, being perfectly civil, if a little cool.

But, after as long as this had gone on, and how smart both girls were, you'd think they would have learned when to stop pushing each-other's buttons.

But, to the contrary, while neither ever acted with a particularly malicious intent (both just thinking they were always right) each of the girls seemed to enjoy getting under the other's skin.

Today was a particularly harsh example of the latter.

Luna had long ago taken it upon herself to sit with the rest of them at the Gryffindor table during mealtimes, usually somewhere next to Ginny, Harry (at which time Hermione always seemed to find a way to glue herself to his other side), or--curiously enough---Ron, but always close enough to Hermione that the impending debate wouldn't have to result in a shouting match just so they could hear one another. It had become a predictable and usually harmless routine that everyone had become accustomed to.

It was dinner time and Ron was sandwiched between Luna and Neville on one side of the table, while Harry sat near Hermione and Seamus across from them--Ginny was sitting down the length of the table somewhere with Dean tonight. The space next to Hermione, who was seated on Harry's left, was empty save for her knitting needles, which were busy making a wooly green scarf that was already so long it trailed onto the floor.

Things had been calm enough--the usual bickering usually didn't commence until everyone had the opportunity to eat something, incase said bickering resulted in someone leaving the table in protest. Luna had been piling great mounds of some sort of radish-based side dish on her plate with vigor, her eyes popping in delight. She babbled excitedly as she spooned and spooned.

"...And Daddy always said how stimulating radishes are to the brain, you know, which is why we always eat them with every meal at home--in fact, there was a special piece in the Quibbler about how the Ministry is infiltrating both radishes and beets into the lunches at day-witch schools for the younger children to improve tests scores, because, of course, Britain is always competing with the primary-Wizarding schools of Norway--"

"Excuse me," sighed Hermione from behind the pages of her usually-retired Daily Prophet, rustling the pages. "Do you think the rest of the table could perhaps have a chance at the--er--obviously very fascinating radish casserole, please?"

This did manage to silence Luna in her rambling, and finally drop the silver serving spoon back into the bowl with an empty "clang!"

Though few looked especially disappointed with the lack of radish casserole left for the taking, the loud, hollow sound did make Hermione's brown eyes creep over the top of her paper. Harry sighed, though inaudibly--here it came, right on schedule. He sagely wondered if Hermione's fingers would abandon their grip on the paper long enough for Harry to be able to snag it away and perhaps busy himself with the crossword puzzle.

No such luck, as Hermione narrowed her eyes across the table at the still-dreamy looking blonde girl, who was now munching happily at the mounds and mounds of reddish food piled on her plate, the paper now becoming crumpled in Hermione's lap. Her needles were still poised in the air next to her, but they had all but stopped knitting, the end of the scarf piled by Hermione's ankles.

"...Was it really," started Hermione in an annoyed voice, "necessary to take the entire confection for yourself? What about the rest of us?"

Thankfully nobody chose to point out that no one was particularly fussy about the lack of radish-confection left for the rest of them.

Luna still seemed happily peaceful and unabashed, casserole being continually shoveled into her mouth. "Oh, don't worry about that," she said serenely. "The House-Elves promised to keep sending up bowls of it to the Gryffindor table when I went down to give them the recipe that was printed with the special last week--"

"What?" said Hermione sharply, her back going rigid.

Uh-oh, Harry thought with alarm, glancing to his left where Hermione was seated, then over to Ron across the table--he was looking at Luna like she was insane. Harry new his face must have been equally horrified.

Their part of the table was now very quiet. Not House-Elves, he could just hear everyone's minds screaming. Anything but the bloody House-Elves!

Hermione's chest puffed out--the table gave a universal wince, many of them suddenly becoming very interested in silently studying their bangers.

"You--you placed an order with the House-Elves?"

"Why yes," said Luna, staring at Hermione over the rim of her pumpkin juice, apparently giving her jaw a rest. "They simply beamed when they saw me one night when they came to clean our tower--they'd awoken me when I'd fallen asleep under a table near the fire place--and ask me if there was anything I would like, so I told them I would bring the most divine radish recipe that was coming with the next Owl Post along with the article about the Ministry putting the radishes in the lunches of the day-Witch school so their test scores would be a better rival to those of the younger Witch and Wizard set in Norway, where it's so dark and cold that they don't even need radishes because all they can really do most of the year is stay inside studying--"

"Stop," Hermione snapped, bristling now. "Just stop right there. So, not only has no one in your tower even thought about setting the poor House-Elves that are forced to clean after them day after day--"

"But they adore it," said Luna, her head slightly tilted with her spoon stopped half-way to her mouth. Hermione's whole body seemed to swell ominously--Harry dully wondered how much of a risk it would really be to try and snatch the paper out of Hermione's hands now. She either wouldn't notice at all, or would bite his fingers off.

"They most certainly do not adore it!" Shrilled Hermione, rising a little in her seat. "They are simply brain-washed to think that way by their years and years of oppression--they would be much happier being free!"

Luna finally seemed to be able to sense what was coming. "They would not be happier being freed--I had a long discussion with our House-Elf at home once about whether or not he'd prefer--"

Harry and the whole of Gryffindor itself knew what was coming before Hermione had even gotten the words out.

"Ec--excuse me?!" Hermione all but screamed, her mouth hanging open. "You--you enslave a House-Elf?!"

"Well--yes," said Luna, her own eyebrows raised. Her precious radishes sat on her plate, forgotten. "Though I think perhaps 'enslaved' might be a little--"

And back and forth it went. At first they had managed to keep it at least mostly contained, but now, with their voices rising with each word, soon the entire Great Hall--yes, including the teachers--were staring at them. Craning his head over his shoulder, Harry saw Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Flitwick, both looking grim (this was not the first time both of them would have had to sweep them down and send Hermione and Luna to separate corners--it was actually a marvel that Hermione and Luna were ever allowed to sit near each other, but perhaps the teachers held out hope that one day they would simply tire each other out enough to end it once and for all-- ) starting to rise from their seats. Harry received a small shock when he saw Dumbledore put a hand out, and gesture for both teachers to sit back down.

Little did Harry know that a rather larger shock was just seconds away.

"Are you implying that everything forced into a particular situation wants to be freed, even if it doesn't know it?" said Luna's voice.

"Of course," snapped Hermione.

Pause.

"You're in love with Harry."

Harry's neck whipped back around so fast he felt it crack with a resounding "snap!"

Luna was looking very smug, more smug than Harry had ever seen her before, staring at Hermione, arms crossed neatly under her chest.

Harry felt Hermione very stiff next to him, back arched like a rail.

"Wha--what are you talking about?" said Hermione, voice shocked and very tight.

"You're in love with Harry," said Luna, very calm. "You're convinced the House-Elves want to be free, because of all the evidence you're just so sure of? Well, then, using your own logic, I know that you're in love with Harry. You may just not know it yet, is because no one has pointed it out to you, isn't that right? So I am now. You. Are in love. With Harry. And it wants to be freed."

Smug and serene, Luna took her spoon back up, still watching Hermione's expression as she went back to the still-high mound of food on her plate. Harry stared between the two girls, as did the rest of the table--or was it the rest of the entire hall?--except that they were all staring at him as well.

Through Harry's shock and now discomfort, he knew that the lot of them were waiting for Hermione's reaction. Hell, he was waiting for Hermione's reaction, looking to his side at just her now.

But Hermione didn't say anything. Her eyes had gone so wide her eyebrows had disappeared into her fringe, and her face went rather pink--Harry, in his own embarrassment, had the distinct impression that she'd stopped breathing. Finally her mouth broke it's 'o' shape and started to move up and down, trying in vein to form words, but soon just clamped together in a tight line. Hermione's cheeks were as pink as Harry had ever seen them. Finally turning her shocked gaze from Luna's face, she locked them on her hands; her knitting fell with a clatter to the floor, causing eyebrows all up and down the tables to go up. Hermione did not seem to register any of this, however, springing up out of her seat and running through the grand doors before Harry had the chance to say anything.

A fresh bowl of radish casserole sprouted up next to her abandoned plate. Luna beamed.

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It was hours before Hermione returned to the Common Room, her face very pale and her hair mussed with bits of twig and leaves sticking out of it.

Harry had been sitting on the couch, on his own, the knitting, bag, and books Hermione had left in the Great Hall piled neatly on the cushion next to him. His mind was both blank and buzzing--Luna had said what she had to get a rise out of Hermione, to best her, of course. There was no truth to it, there couldn't be, Harry was sure of that. What Harry wasn't sure of was why the thought of it indeed not being true was making him feel the way it was.

Hermione's feelings for him was honestly never something Harry had given a lot of thought to.

She was his best friend and of course she cared about him, and he cared about her, and they both cared about Ron. That's always been the way it was, the truth. But...Harry always thought about her in the terms of caring, was the thing. She cared about him, he cared about her, they all cared about each other.

...As much as the word 'love' and its importance had been thrown around since the end of their fifth year, Harry, to his amazement, had never thought about his friends (Hermione, specifically) in terms of love. Did...he love her? ...Of course he did. He loved both of his friends. And so she probably loved him. ...Yes, of course she did. Harry shifted, sighing and putting his head on the back of the couch. "In love" is how Luna had put it. Hermione couldn't be in love with him. Of course not, that was a preposterous thought, as Hermione would say. But...was he in love with her?

The thing was, now that he was thinking about it...He just might be.

Harry slapped a hand to his forehead at that thought. I...am SUCH a prat, he mentally screamed at himself, his eyes wide behind his glasses. How was it that he had never entertained the idea? ...Bloody hell, why hadn't anyone mentioned this to him before? Someone should have told him, dammit!

He sat like that for a very long time, silent and slightly hysterical. It was only when Hermione showed up, the fire very low, that he sat up straight to look at her. Standing near the Portrait Hole, she was staring back at Harry, eyes slightly pink--she'd been crying, he could tell, and the bits of twig in her hair meant she'd gone back into the forest to visit Grawp and Hagrid, who'd all but pitched a tent to live out by his brother these days.

Harry had asked Hermione to please, please not go through the forest alone, and usually she listened. But when he saw her standing there looking at him, he couldn't be mad, and it wasn't murderous Centaurs or talking spiders he was worried about this time. His mind calmed down despite itself--a little too much, actually, it was going alarmingly blank-- and he sat stalk-still as Hermione took a breath, seeming to gear herself up for something.

A few more moments passed, and Harry was about to open his mouth when Hermione was suddenly next to him, shoving her carefully folded books and scarf to the ground and putting her hands on either side of his face. Seconds felt like hours as Hermione, looking very frightened and near tears again, put her legs on the cushion beside his, coming down to his level and studying him.

The seconds suddenly sped back up again as Hermione closed the distance between their mouths.

At first he had been too shocked to respond, and he could feel Hermione's lips stiffen in panic and start to let his go. The buzzing finally returning to his brain, he quickly grabbed her around the middle (perhaps a bit too hard as Hermione let out an "omph!") and pressed her against his chest. He seemed to have knocked the air out of her, but wasn't about to let go--despite the rather panicky feeling that was twirling around in his stomach.

Hermione took in a few short gasps of air, her face still very close to his. Her breath puffed against his lips, and she was staring at him through his glasses. He could feel her heart pounding--almost as hard as his own--through their clothes.

Hermione finally spoke before she had fully gotten her wind, fingers still on both of Harry's hot cheeks. She looked as confused as Harry felt--but he could tell by her eyes that she was very sure about something.

"The--the House-Elves want to be free, Harry."

He caught her lips in his again, something both new and familiar springing free between them as they held onto each other.

At some point during the night, the fire went out. Harry's glasses got bent. Dobby the House-Elf came and went, gleefully wrapping the long green scarf around and around his thin neck, Hermione's knitting needles trailing on the floor behind him. Harry and Hermione didn't notice once.

Happy being free.

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