Procrastionation

AN- this is just a small idea that came up in my mind, and developed into a rather larger idea. I will either A.) Make this into a challenge with limited amounts of rules, and watch to see if other authors go for it, or B.) Have a series of Astronomy Tower scenes, all of which have to be PG13 or under, because I am indeed only a fourteen-year-old who knows what could really happen in the Astronomy Tower;)

Procrastination;

Sighing, Hermione trudged up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, knowing that she needed this homework done. Extra classes, the DA, and homework had piled up, and she'd been putting this assignment off for far too long, telling herself that it wasn't top priority. There was more to the world than the unreachable stars.

But now the assignment was due in two days, and who knew what tomorrow night would bring. With Harry Potter, a magnet for trouble as one best friend, and Ron Weasley, who seemed to look for trouble regularly as the other, it was best to get homework done before nightfall, in case you would be woken in the middle of the night for a battle, to clean up after Voldemort, to sneak into secret forbidden corridors, Troll-infested bathrooms, hidden chambers in the school's plumbing, midnight duels, trips to Hagrid's, sneaking out dragons, a run through the Forbidden Forest, a little trip to the Shrieking Shack to run into a werewolf and well-known murderer…you get the general picture. McGongall had given her permission. She'd get it done tonight.

But when she was Harry staring out the window, back to her, once she reached the top of the stairs, she changed her mind.

She hadn't actually had a heart-to-heart with Harry like they had before, or like the trio had had together, since before Sirius's death, though they had had a few stilted conversations about it during the summer, when they had all gone to Diagon Alley and stayed in Tonks's place. To be honest, she hadn't gone too out of her way to talk to him alone either, though she could tell it was eating him up inside, both Sirius's death, and her silence. Her lack of effort towards him was driving a wedge between them. She just didn't know how to act about this, how to heal something that seemed to painful. She wasn't good with large-scale loss.

And while this wasn't any more than one person, the loss of Sirius had hit Harry like a thousand deaths. It was in his eyes, the green ones she had been unable to meet all year.

No, she knew Harry couldn't take it anymore, but there would come a point in time when they would be forced to talk.

As she was thinking of these things, Harry jumped out the window.

Wow. She hadn't known that the breaking point would come so soon.

“Harry? HARRY!” instantly her best-friend's messy black hair and crooked scar came into view, followed by the small smile, green eyes, and cloaked-in-black body…that happened to be floating on a broom.

“Huh?” He grinned slowly at the look of horror mingled with relief crossing her face before saying, slowly and smartly, “Oh, hey Hermione.”

“Bloody hell, Harry Potter, don't do that to me!” She swore, smiling slightly at seeing his eyes look slightly shocked at her choice of words, before he said,

“Do what?”

“Don't play around like that, you knew I was watching you or you wouldn't have so dramatically fallen over yourself and off of the window in mock-suicide!” For some reason, tears were starting to blur her vision and burn her eyes. The relief she felt made her realize that she had really thought, right away, that it hadn't been an accident. She had known for a while that Harry was steadily getting worse. She had believed for a while that he was going to commit suicide.

“Hermione?” He must have noticed her expression, of heard her voice crack at the last few syllables, because instantly he stepped off of the broom, rushing towards her and onto the windowsill, cat-like, before striding swiftly over to her. It was only after he reached her, concern etched on his features, that she realized that he hadn't had anything underneath his feet until he had reached the window.

Her tears and moment of panic were momentarily forgotten as she asked, “How did you do that?”

“What?”

“Float on air like that.” Harry looked back, before realizing what she was talking about and saying,

“Oh. That's not floating, it's walking, and yes, it's on the air. Dead-useful, and really cool-looking, don't you think?”

Smiling, she replied, “Very,” and wiped off her face. “I'm assuming that you did it by condensing the air particles underneath your feet to form stepping-stones and-“

“Hermione, I said the words that needed to be said to do the spell in my head, then walked over to you. I don't want to think of how I did it, just that I did it.” Harry replied, looking carefully down at her face. “You alright now?”

“Yeah.” Carefully, not wanting him to feel her heart beating so fast or see the blush that rose to her cheeks, she pulled away from him, and instantly missed his scent, his arms. His warmth. “So if you can do that, why fly?”

“Because. Flying helps me to relax; you're sitting, and the wind is rushing through you, and the rest of the world becomes a blur.” When he noted the clueless look on her face, he added, “Well, I guess that the relaxation in flying is one thing, and maybe the only thing, that Miss Hermione Granger will never understand.”

Blushing, Hermione said, “No, I wont. Now, be good and let me do my homework.”

To her surprise, and slight disappointment, he did as she asked, but he didn't leave her alone. Instead he stood next to her, leaning against the wall as she looked through the telescope next to him.

After trying to work for several moments with his eyes on her, Hermione finally gave up and turned to him after writing in a star, asking, “Why are you staring at me?”

“Because I have to go back to the dorm soon. I'm just procrastinating,” he replied, still unnerving her with his stare. A few more moments of this torture, which Harry seemed to enjoy, and she said,

“Procrastinate all you want, but quit making me do it too. This is due soon, and I have to get it done tonight.”

“Fine.” Harry instead stared out at the sky with her for a moment, before turning to her and saying, “You know, you really should shorten your workload, Hermione. It isn't healthy to take on that much at once, I thought you learned that lesson third year.”

“I did.” She moaned. “I only took what I needed.”

“But I thought you didn't know what you wanted to be.” Harry replied, puzzled.

“Exactly. How can I eliminate any subjects when I don't know what's required for my job?”

Rolling his eyes, but apparently knowing better than to argue with Hermione, Harry shifted his weight to look over her shoulder. “What class is this anyways?”

“I would think you would know, Harry. It's Astronomy.” She frowned. “Speaking of, you had one more elective, yet you chose Divisionation instead! What were you thinking?”

Harry shrugged rather half-heartedly. “I dunno. I never really liked Astronomy. Hated it, actually.”

“Why?” She asked, still looking at her star chart, but not really interested.

“I suppose the same reason I hated Science classes in primer school. I don't like knowing the mysteries of the world, how things work. I don't like over-analyzing things, and that's exactly what Astronomy made me do. And I hate looking at the stars through a telescope. It takes away from the beauty.”

Both sat in silence, contemplating his words, until Hermione couldn't take it anymore. His eyes were glassy and brought, reflecting the moon. His hair, midnight black, was shining softly, and his pale skin made him glow. He was inhuman, and she knew if something didn't break the peaceful silence soon, she would come to do something that she would regret later. Like cry. Or kiss him. She couldn't let either happen.

“ Yes, but Trelawney? Of all subjects!”

Harry smiled solemnly. “We were having a moment, Hermione. You're ruining it.”

“But really.” Hermione continued. “I mean, Trelawney? The only thing she's ever done is predict your death!”

“Which is why I'm allowed to believe in her,” Harry replied sardonically.

“Harry! Don't say things like that!” She scolded; shocked that he could even state something like that so playfully. “You need to hold on to faith.”

“I know. People need me to be strong.” Harry said, gloomy. “But it's getting so hard to act brave for them, Hermione. I'm not inhuman, and I haven't had any time to mourn. They've already started training me for a future I can't control.” Hermione could tell that he had said something he wouldn't normally have said, and wouldn't repeat, so she didn't interrupt. Instead of questioning him, and figuring out the meaning behind his words, she listened as the dam broke.

“I think I may drop Quidditch. I can't handle the stress, between classes, extra work, training, DA, and practices. But I've already turned down the captain position, and flying means so much to me. I mean, I shouldn't even have been flying tonight, I should've been studying, or practicing Occlumency. But it's the only thing that forces me to relax. That's a little like practicing Occlumency, right? It's pretty hard to relax with Dumbledore's eyes on you, even more difficult than having Snape breathing down your neck.

“How did you manage everything, Hermione?” Harry asked, suddenly clearly remembering that she was there. As soon as there was silence, and the quiet stretched between them, she knew that he had forgotten about her presence for a moment. Trying to puzzle out his earlier words, she replied off-handedly,

“I didn't, remember?”

“Oh. Right.”

“And you say that my workload isn't healthy.” Harry smiled half-heartedly, gazing wistfully up at the stars.

“Do you think that they're really watching us?” Harry asked, and Hermione marveled at his change of topics. He had to have some type of attention disorder.

“I think that they're looking out for us, yes. Harry, what did you mean about what you said earlier. About your future, and all this extra training…”

“I'll tell you later, Hermione.” She was going to object, insist that she could take it, when she realized that she really didn't want to handle anything massive just not. She'd had one personal hit after another lately. She just wanted to relax for a moment.

“Fine. But you will tell me?” She asked.

“Of course. I don't think it can stay a secret much longer. Just not now…” she turned to look at him when he drifted off, and found him looking at her. Lips lightly parted, eyes glittering eerily, black bangs blowing, glasses flashing…

It felt like his eyes were kissing her. Just the thought made her blush…

But he was watching her in a way that reminded her of love. It had to be love…was it platonic? No…his eyes were glittering.

Hermione felt her face flush, as she heard someone trudge up the stairs of the tower. “We should go now…” Harry murmured, his face bright red. Nervously, Hermione watched him straighten his glasses, and stand, then offer her a hand up.

“Right…I mean, you aren't even allowed up here…” she took the offered hand and Harry pulled a little to hard, bringing their faces close enough to kiss. Hermione took a step back, steadying herself. She would wait. She knew that Harry felt the same way about her now, but this wasn't the time. When the war ended, and Harry won, (because he would win, he would,) then they could talk…and maybe do a little more.

Harry stepped back, and sad goodnight, cloaking himself with a charm, (showoff,) before disappearing completely. Hermione, deciding to follow his example and head back to the common room, the much easier and slower way, made her way slowly to the door. Looking down, she saw her Astronomy homework, incomplete. Sighing, she skipped down the stairs, deciding that, if things always worked out so well, she would have to procrastinate more often, it was worth the results.

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