Chapter 5 - The Talk
After another couple of days Auror training, Harry flooed home, too tired to apparate and afraid of getting splinched.
"Ron, mate? Are you home?" he called. "Hermione?" No use in calling her though. I doubt if she's gonna answer anyway, even if she is home.
He walked to the kitchen, pulled himself a butterbeer from the refrigerator and took a tentative sip. Hmmm… I wonder where Ron is. And as if on cue, Ron started calling from the living room.
"Harry! Hermione! Are you guys here?"
Harry quickly went to the living room and saw Ron's head hovering in the fireplace.
"Hey, Ron. Why'd you flooed? You should be home by now, right?"
"Can't. Coach is once again working our asses off double time," Ron sighed. "So I'm not sure if I'll be home early tonight. I'm not even sure I'll be home tonight! I just flooed to tell you guys, so you wouldn't worry."
Harry felt pity for Ron. Their new coach is really working them for their upcoming game that would determine their standing in the Quidditch Finals.
"No problem. We'll be fine here. I don't think Hermione would mind that, seeing as she's always cooped up in her room nowadays…" Harry trailed off, his eyes going over the stairs to the door of her room.
"All right. Well, I gotta run. Coach will have my head if I don't get back. I told him I'll be gone for only a couple of minutes," Ron said, looking over his shoulder. And true enough, his coach bellowed for him to get out in the pitch. "Like I said… Bye Harry! Maybe I'll see you tonight!"
And with that, Ron's head disappeared in the flames.
Harry stood up, left his butterbeer on the kitchen table and trudged his way to his room. Once in his room, he removed his Auror robes and plopped face down on his bed.
"I'm so tired!" he said, his voice muffled. I think a nice, cold shower is in order. Something to relax my strained muscles.
He sat up, stretched, stripped down to his boxers, slung his towel over his shoulder and walked over to his bathroom door. He opened it slowly and a sight like no other greeted him.
The whole bathroom smelled like vanilla. But Harry took no notice of that.
Hermione is in the tub, with her eyes closed, a small smile playing on the corners of her lips. Her hair in a soft bun on her head, her skin glowing in the light. Harry longs to touch her face and slide his fingers on that soft, glowing skin. Soft music is playing in the background, barely noticeable from Harry's room.
He just stood there by the doorway, completely entranced by Hermione's presence. He stood there, not knowing for how long, until he noticed Hermione stirred.
"Now, isn't this relaxing?" she asked to no one in particular and trying to stand up from the tub to dry off.
"Yes, it definitely is," Harry answered.
Hermione hastily slid in the tub again upon hearing someone talking by the doorway. Turning her head, she then saw…
"Harry! What in Merlin's name are you doing standing there?! Can't you see that I'm bathing?" she asked indignantly.
"I decided to take a cold shower. You know how I want to do that after my training. You didn't lock my door, so I thought no one was using the bathroom," he replied while looking intently at Hermione.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked while trying to cover herself with her arms since some of the bubbles from her bath had dissipated already.
"What?"
"Get out for a while so I could go change and you could take your place in the shower," she said while motioning for Harry's door.
"No, I don't think I would," Harry said while crossing his arms across his chest.
"What do you mean you won't?!"
"I've been meaning to talk to you for some time now, Hermione."
Hermione was startled by Harry's answer. This is what she's dreading. The Talk. But there's nothing to even talk about, is there?
"What do you mean you want to talk to me?" Hermione asked feigning innocence in the whole situation.
"You know what I mean, Hermione."
Hermione still gave him a questioning look. "Well?"
Harry sighed, "You've been avoiding me for almost a week now, `Mione. I don't know why. You talk to Ron but you don't talk to me. You even avoid me at work when I try to counter you. Why?"
Why indeed? Because I don't want to talk about what almost happened before? Oh, that's totally childish, Hermione. Because I think I'm starting to feel something else for my best friend? Yeah, as if he'll be thrilled when I say that.
So Hermione opted for a safe answer, "I've not been avoiding you. I'm just… well… er - I'm just busy with my work. You know how I'm always running around, meeting with other people, finishing my reports…"
"No, `Mione. I don't think that's the main reason here."
"Then tell me what then, Harry. Because I don't know any more reasons than the one I gave you."
Harry sighed once more, knowing that Hermione is too stubborn to admit what is going on between them. But is there really something going on? It could be that she's really busy and I'm just imagining things…
"Fine. You don't want to talk. We'll not talk and let's leave whatever was said here in this bathroom," said Harry, turning around and heading for his room. He closed the door on his way out and Hermione heard a distinct click meaning that Harry locked the door from outside.
Hermione continued to stare at the spot where Harry was standing. She sighed, stood up from the tub, wrapped herself in a big towel and walked to her room.
So much for confrontations…
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Harry was pacing his room after the "talk" with Hermione. I think I'm just imagining things about us. I don't think there's even something between us. But what about what happened in the kitchen counter last week? What was that? I almost kissed her and she seems to want it too. Must be these damn hormones. Yeah, that's it! Just these damn raging hormones.
He walked to his bathroom door, peered inside and saw that Hermione already left. Quickly, he went in, locked Hermione's door, stepped into the shower and let the cold water cascade over his head.
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Hermione took out a book from her bookshelf, plopped on her bed and tried to read. After 10 minutes though, she realized that she's been staring at the same page, not really reading.
"Damn," she cursed under her breath. "Damn Harry for letting me be like this."
She threw the book aside and laid on her bed while staring at the ceiling. After a while, she curled to her side and threw a pillow over her head.
"Ugh! What am I going to do?" she asked frustrated.
Finally, after a while, she drifted off to a very uneasy sleep.
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(A/N - Thanks to my wonderful beta - Dylan! Mwah!)
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