Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company
For you in my respect are all the world.
Then how can it be said I am alone
When all the world is here to look on me?
(Midsummer Night's Dream II.i.220)
Chapter 6 "The Next Day"
As far as Harry could tell, the spell worked.
Hermione cheerfully chatted him up at breakfast the next day. She handed him the milk and sugar, split the newspaper, smiled and sighed that 'oh-Harry' sigh. All without a single pat or stroke or hand squeeze.
Harry wanted to be happy about it.
It should've been a relief when she didn't ruffle his hair. It was nearly great comfort when Hermione didn't take her usual place next to him. He came very close to feeling glad when she instead curled up in the windowseat in the corner and read the newspaper.
Close, but not quite.
"What?" Hermione's puzzled voice interrupted his muddled thoughts. His attention turned back to his sunny surroundings as he suddenly realized Hermione was looking at him, bemused.
Um…what…oops.
He was staring again. With all that golden light streaming in through the glass behind her, he'd spent most of the morning watching the sun play off her hair instead of eating his now cold porridge.
Harry shrugged and poked at the sloppy mess in his bowl.
"Sleep well?" She asked as she folded the paper. She stretched a bit, allowing her long honey locks to cascade down her shoulders.
"Er, what?" Heuddenly too distracted by her tumbling curls to answer.
"Did. You. Sleep. Well?"
"Um, yeah."
She smiled as she stood up. "Poor Harry. Never a morning person."
Normally such an insight would afford him a pat on the hand or a comforting shoulder rub or a friendly nudge. But today she just tossed the paper on the table and muttered a 'see you later' as the patio door slammed shut.
"Oh, yeah. See you later," he muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. Gods something was off. Terribly off. He couldn't quiet reason it. She acted the same, but now there was a gaping space between them, which made everything else just seem…off.
Yep. He sighed as he pushed the bowl away. At least we know the spell worked. Go team. Hooray Tonks…
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Harry didn't realize just how "off" things were until he and Hermione went for their usual walk through the forest trails.
Harry found himself eyeing the distance between them instead of enjoying the sunny scenery. Their arms weren't linked, her hand wasn't neatly folded in his, and her shoulders didn't brush against him. In fact there was a carefully-kept hand's length between them the entire time.
The walk just wasn't the same without her taking his arm or ruffling his hair or all that lovely leaning she used to do.
She'd even shied away when he tried to touch her.
"Look Hermione," he pointed towards an arriving Hedwig, who gave a friendly swoop over them and continued on towards the house. He took his other hand from his pocket and gently rested it on the small of her back as she followed his gaze.
"Come on Harry," she said wearily as she brushed away the offending hand. Her warm smiled returned only when his hand returned to his pocket and she was safely out of reach. "We better get going." She motioned towards the trail before turning quickly and trotting down the path.
"Yeah, hey, I'll catch up," Harry said lightly, trying to hide his disappointment. The realization hit him hard: He couldn't touch her.
Harry suddenly and irrationally felt cheated. He'd just wanted the sleepwalking and the snuggling to stop. He didn't mind so much the handholding or the arm grabbing or the back rubbing or the hair ruffling. That, he liked. A lot.
He liked it when she ran her hand through his hair, or, without thinking twice, would rest her head on his shoulder or lean against him and sigh. He liked that she'd curl up next to him on a porch swing or a sofa and let him curl back.
That was just Hermione. That was just his Hermione being Hermione, and now He. Couldn't. Touch Her. He couldn't touch her. How was he supposed to get through the day without touching her?
Harry shook his head. It had only been a handful of hours and he was already cursing the good idea this spell wasn't.
He remembered Lupin's light warning of oh… blah blah…that's not a good plan…let's talk it over reasonably…something…let's throw a shoe and some such.
Harry grumbled at his not listening and ran after the now distant (in more ways than one) Hermione.
Sodding spell…he muttered under his breath…sodding nature…
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During Hogan's Heroes…
"Harry!"
He'd managed to turn around before Hermione dove at him. She landed, hard, on top of him and placed a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.
She shook off the fall and looked towards the source of the Luminoused wands that were flashing over them.
"Stay. Quiet," she hissed as Draco and Luna's spotlights crisscrossed over them, scanning the darkness for the potential POWs.
Nearly a minute passed before the lights slowly receding back into the shadows and the sounds of footsteps faded.
"That was close." Hermione removed her hand from his lips as her lovely face hovered just over his. "Sorry Harry." She smiled shyly, making her eyes did that shiny-starry thing they usually did in the moonlight.
Harry, however, was too distracted by their positions to be relieved by the narrow escape.
(Gulp) "Huh?" Harry could only nod his response. "What…?" Which parts are where now?
"Are you all right?" She asked, her voice clouded with concern as she realized that yes, she was on top of him, and yes, he was probably in pain.
He studied her face and smiled, resting his hand on her shoulder when she smiled back.
Hermione suddenly froze, wide-eyed over him. A look of confusion and low-lying panic filled her eyes as he ran his hands over her sides.
"H-Harry…" she stammered as she pushed away. "We…we'd better go."
Without another word she leapt to her feet and darted into the bushes ahead, though, no doubt she flashed a few hurried hand signals behind her. Normally she would've taken his hand and pulled him along, but…oh no, not anymore.
Harry got to his feet and trailed after her, dodging the smacking branches as they snapped back, catching scant glimpses of her as she ran through the trees ahead of him.
Gods, it was going to be a long night.
Sodding spell…ouch
Sodding Tonks…ouch
Stupid trees…
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Sad to say, Team Doom won that night's round. Harry had been captured when he'd lost sight of Hermione, Lav had followed, and then Hermione.
Now, Ron and Draco were swaggering around, gloating loudly while Luna smiled in a subtly-pleased way as the group made their way back to the house.
"Yep," Draco said, taking hold of Luna's hand and spinning her in place. "Looks like the best team won."
Lav rolled her eyes. "It's the first time you've won since we started, Draco. You had to eventually. It's the law of averages."
"More like law of the fittest," Ron said, flashing a grin.
"That's 'survival' of the fittest," Hermione corrected.
"Right." Ron nodded. "We're survival types….warriors…renegades…"
"Morons…" Lav finished for him.
"Now now. Don't be bitter." Draco told her warningly. "Next you'll start stress eating, and then God help us all…"
"Ron!" Lav exclaimed.
"What?" Ron asked, not interested in the argument. He was too busy enjoying the fruits of victory. Specifically, all the boasting and chest puffing it afforded.
"So Granger." Draco turned to Hermione. "Ever thought about defecting to Doom's darkside?" He slung and arm over her shoulders and wriggled his eyebrows. "Play your cards right, and I might even throw in a backrub."
Hermione grimace and rolled her eyes, muttering something about how she'd 'rather chew broken glass.' Although, despite her unenthusiastic response, Harry noticed she made no effort to free herself from Draco's encircling arm. Instead, she just chatted with Luna while he played with the ends of her hair.
Harry watched the unfolding display of comradery for a full thirty seconds before he realized he was holding his breath.
"Sodding spell…" Harry muttered after he'd finished gasping for air. Any one of a million nights he could've done the same thing. Play with her hair, casually shrug an arm around her, whisper in her ear, but no. Then came the sleepwalking and the snuggling and the rest…the now rather uncomfortably arousing rest, whose memory made him groan in frustration.
He snuck a glance at her, now Draco-free as they made their way up the front porch and decided to keep his distance until the end of the night. Save her the trouble of subtly shifting away from him and flashing him fake smiles.
The 'sodding spell' couldn't keep him from watching her though, and his eyes followed her around the room. He watched as she didn't once rub Ron's shoulders or take Draco's arm. He noticed that she didn't curl up once next to Lupin or ruffle anyone's hair…thank gods.
Towards the end of the evening, Harry was hit with a rather hard realization:
It was just him.
All that touching was just something she did with him. The hand holding and arm grabbing and hair ruffling was theirs. His really. He'd never thought about their closeness in terms of anything except just Hermione being her sweet, supportive self, but it was just him. A closeness she felt he needed, and, being the cleverest witch of her generation, she was proven right (again).
Of course Harry had effectively put a stop to all that, so there was no way he could scoop her up now and hug his thanks. Maybe mutter an apology or two about taking her for granted for the seven or eight rather small years when she had been the only one besides Mrs. Weasley and an emotionally unbalanced Cho who dare approach the Boy Apparently Made of Broken Glass and Battery Acid.
'Sodding spell,' was quickly becoming his mantra, and he muttered it again as Hermione playfully winked at him as she sorted through a pile of old forty-fives on the floor. He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled back. Not like he could do much else at this point.
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Later that night Harry found himself tossing in his bed, screaming at himself to go to sleep.
She's not coming, he thought as he sat up.
Funny that he'd never had trouble falling asleep before the spell. He'd come to expect her, doze off muttering annoyances, and wake up with a lapful of Hermione. Easy.
And now… Now she wasn't coming. He was sure of it. He was sure of it and he wasn't falling asleep anytime soon. Instead he found himself awake, half-hoping that tonight the Puck's Potion would take a bloody break already.
He let out a sigh and began lightly hitting the back of his head against the wall. Maybe if he did it enough times he could cause some sort of coma-inducing hemorrhage.
Ow…damn… sodding spell…
Ow…damn…sodding spell…
Ow…damn…sodding spell…
He paused when he thought he heard a pair of light footsteps padding down the hallway. Or maybe it's just the start of a concussion because…ouch.
Tensing with dread, or, expectation or maybe both, he gripped the blankets beside him and listened as the footsteps stilled. He stared at the doorhandle, waiting for a full minute for…something…anything.
The footsteps suddenly turned and echoed back down the hallway.
He gave a long-suffering sigh and pulled the covers around him. Well, that's that, he thought. Now to sleep. Hermione-less and all. Hoo-bloody-rah.
Wait...he thought as he sat back up. Where the hezpah is she going to go? He leapt out of bed and struggled with his shoes as he stumbled out the door. What? Go crawling in with Ron. Or Malfoy? Or gods…Malfoy?
Where is she?
"Hermione!" he called as he sprinted down the hallway. He ignored the lights and voices that stirred behind him. "Hermione!"
He held on to the stair railing, barely able to keep upright as he skidded to a stop at her doorway.
"Hermione?" He called as he searched the room.
Hermione wasn't there, she wasn't down the hall…Harry pushed past a sleepy-eyed Ron as he ran towards Malfoy's room.
"Harry? What?" Ron dropped his wand and fell against the wall as he tried to dodge the rushing Gryffindor.
"Hermione's gone," Harry shouted his answer. Sodding spell.
"What?" Ron called as he picked up his wand trotted towards him.
"Sodding spell," Harry clarified as he barged into Malfoy's room. A thankfully empty room.
Damn, she's not here. Or wait…that's a good thing…Harry amended as he pushed past Ron again and started towards the other wings of the house.
"What should I…hey…" Ron watched Harry disappear around the corner. "Hey! Harry!"
"What's wrong with Potter?" A spikey-haired Draco asked as he came out of Luna's room. "Or, wait. Better narrow that down. What's with all the noise?"
Ron shrugged. "Something to do with Hermione," he answered with a yawn.
"Isn't it always." Draco shook his head. "The man's obsessed."
"No. He's in love," Luna amended. She was wearing Draco's old Quidditch robes as she stepped into the hall beside him.
"No. He's in-sane," Draco corrected as his arm came round her waist. "Been saying it for years."
"Har har…" Ron flashed Draco an unamused grin as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was too early for this kind of drama. Too early and too dark and too cold and he was too tired.
"Well, I guess I'll start looking around for her or something," he said unenthusiastically as he headed down the dark hall.
"Have fun," Draco called after him. "Watch out for the spiders and whatnot. It's dark out. They like that… the big ones especially."
Draco's laughter, however, was cut short when he took one look at Luna's softly disapproving glare.
"Blasted bloody…" he muttered as he started down the opposite hallway. "Luna better make with the hero worship when I pull Granger out of whatever well she's fallen into…"