Every year her skirt got shorter.
It wasn't until that moment Harry realized it. And it was true. But why this moment? This moment was no different then any other. They had just finished dinner, and were starting their homework. Hermione was stretched out across the couch with a book in her hands. And he and Ron were sprawled out on the rug in front of the hearth writing their potions essay.
But why that moment?
Hermione shifted her weight on the couch, her eyes not leaving the pages of her book. She was reading her Advanced Arithmacy book. Harry figured she completed her Potions homework the night it was assigned. She never put off her homework until the last minute. He watched the light of the fire dance in her honey-brown eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a simple black pin, the rest of her curls were draped around her neck. Harry thought she looked beautiful.
Then she darted her eyes to him and smiled.
He averted her eyes, scared she would be alarmed at why he was staring at her. But she didn't. She simply returned her eyes to her book and turned the page.
He watched her fire-lit eyes dance across the page. He noticed when she was about to turn a page, she would lick her lips, and then lick her finger to turn it. She wore her white button up school shirt, untucked with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her black skirt, which only went halfway down her thigh, was bunched up beneath her. She exchanged her knee-highs for large purple socks, which crumpled around her ankles. Harry smiled. He had never seen her looking so beautiful.
"DONE!"
Ron threw his arm out obstructing Harry's view, with his essay in hand waiting for Hermione to check it.
Hermione placed her book down on the floor next to the couch and reached for Ron's essay. She settled back down on the couch and rolled her eyes.
"Ron, Olikank's skin is not used in a hydrating draft. It's used in a heating potion," she said.
"Er…Right," Ron said, handing her his quill so she could correct it.
She scoffed and thrusted the essay back at him. "Ronald, you know perfectly well what a bezoar is used for! You out of all people should know, since Harry saved your life with one last year!"
Ron was silent.
"Didn't you Harry?" Hermione asked proudly
"Er…yeah," He replied.
Harry looked over at Ron, and saw he looked red. He sympathized for his best friend. After all if it had not been for Snape's stupid book then he wouldn't have known what it was either, and Ron would have died. His stomach tightened at the thought.
"Would you like me to check yours, Harry?"
"What?" Harry asked, not catching what Hermione said.
"Would you like me to check your essay?"
He looked down at his own and remembered he had only written a few sentences. "Not yet."
"Oh, Harry!" she sighed. She closed her book and stood up from the couch. "Well leave it on the table, and I'll check it in the morning. I'm going to bed."
"Okay."
Hermione strolled over the stairway. Harry noticed her skirt looked a bit wrinkled, and that if she bent over it would not leave much to the imagination. She disappeared in the stairwell leaving Harry and Ron alone in the common room.
But it wasn't for long; soon Ron began yawning and went off to bed as well. Now Harry was alone pouring over his essay. He had written down another paragraph. But he was stuck again. He pulled his book closer, but it was no use. He kept thinking of Hermione.
He exhaled deeply and heaved his book away. "Bloody hell Potter you're going mental!" he whispered to himself.
He paced in front of the hearth. "She's your best friend; you can't have these thoughts about her!" He muttered to himself.
But you do.
"Shut up!" he told himself.
With his own built up frustration he threw his essay into his bag and went up to bed.
>>o<<
The next morning brought dark clouds and misty rain. Harry didn't feel much better at breakfast. He still felt frustrated, and found it difficult to look Hermione in the eye knowing the kind of dreams he had involving her the night before.
"You didn't leave me your essay," Hermione stated over bacon and eggs.
"Yeah, I know."
"Why?"
"I'm not finished," he said, finding interest in his goblet of orange juice.
She dropped her spoon. "Harry it's due today!"
"I still have lunch to do it," he said. "…Plus I kind of have "other" things on my mind right now."
Hermione sighed and leaned in closer to him. He could smell her scent.
"I know you're restless and you want to be out there finding the horcruxes, but you can't. Dumbledore made it quite clear in that letter he left you that you are to finish your last year! You need to learn as much as possible."
"I know," he said. He was not referring to the horcruxes.
The bell rang signaling the start of the first class. The trio made their way to Defense against the Dark Arts, which was being taught my Professor Lupin again. After the death of Dumbledore, he offered to help McGonagall in any way possible.
It turned out that it wasn't only Harry that Dumbledore left a letter for. On his orders, Harry had been receiving extra work from his teachers, and had started up the DA again. The charms and enchantments on the school that Dumbledore placed on the school were still in affect. Harry knew better to know death wouldn't stop Dumbledore from protecting his school.
After Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made there way to Transfiguration, to meet a tired look McGonagall. With the war, there was no time to find a new teacher to fill the Transfiguration position, leaving McGonagall as Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor.
"Okay, sit down and pull out your books," she instructed, bustling to the front of the class.
Harry took a seat next to Hermione, and pulled out his Transfiguration book. His eyes grazed across the room, reminding him that there were only a handful of students remaining at Hogwarts. In Dumbledore's letter he instructed that all students entering fourth year and below should remain at home for there own safety. And most in fifth, sixth and seventh years didn't return. Some were afraid but most didn't because parents believed their children were safer at home than at school.
Harry noticed that there were only half a dozen students in the class, including him and Hermione. Ron sat at the table across from him and Hermione with Neville. Ginny and Luna sat alone at the back of the classroom.
With the war carrying on, growing more dangerous by the moment, proper lessons were no more. Irrelevant classes such as Divination, Arithmacy (which broke Hermione's heart), Care of Magical Creatures, and Astronomy had been eliminated. Hogwarts now only taught classes they thought would be valuable to their students in the war. Students in all years shared classes together. Students of different houses and were mixed if different classes all the time/
"Mr. Longbottom put that away and get out your book!" snapped McGonagall from the front of the classroom. She averted her eyes from Neville and rested them on the rest of her students. "…Today we will be learning about our animagus's."
Murmurs and excitement spread across the room.
"Under normal circumstances I would spend five weeks teaching you the properties of an animagi, before I even allowed you the thought of transformation." she paced around the room, tapping her wand into her palm. "However we are not under normal circumstances." She made her way over to the board and tapped it with her wand, where a long list of notes appeared. "Your animagus form can assist you greatly in these times of darkness. I will spend two days teaching you need to know, and next week you may all attempt transformation."
Ron groaned. He was hoping he could try to transform today.
"Please copy these notes, and on my desk by Monday morning four rolls of parchment on the dangers of an animagi," Instructed McGonagall. "Page 702."
Everybody pulled out some parchment and began writing down the notes. Harry noticed Hermione was using the scarlet inkless quill that he bought her for her birthday.
"Nice quill," he whispered.
"Thank you," she whispered back, with a grin. The bloke who bought it for me has fabulous taste! You should really take a page from his book, Harry."
The two of them chuckled quietly to themselves.
After Transfiguration was Ron's favorite subject, lunch. Harry joined Ron and Hermione for quick meal in the Great Hall before he sped off the library to finish his potions essay. He opened his book, and pulled his half-finished essay out of his bag. The immediate thought of Hermione came to mind. He closed his eyes. He could see the firelight glowing off her he skin, casting a warm glow upon her. He could see the stray hairs falling around her eyes. He could see her feet in purple socks running up her smooth legs.
"Harry?"
His eyes burst open.
"Hi Luna," he mumbled, wiping the drool from the side of his mouth.
"What were you doing?" Luna asked, adjusting the weight of her bag on her shoulder.
"Er…uh…just thinking."
"Oh. Well anyway, Hermione wants to know if you need help with your essay," she asked.
"Um…" Harry thought deeply. Having her there would be wonderful, but he didn't want her to think he was desperate. He cleared his throat. "…No, I think I'm fine."
"Okay. Bye Harry."
Luna turned and excited the library. Harry turned back down to his essay and got to work, with Hermione on the tip of his brain.
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