A Sight Problem by funvince

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 25/08/2005
Last Updated: 24/09/2005
Status: Completed

A change of pace from my usual deep, meaningful stories. Harry has to make a speech at the
celebration of Voldemort's downfall and he's come down with stage fright. So he goes to
Fred and George for help. Need I say more?




1. Gred and Forge Strike Again!
-------------------------------



AN: I actually started this story a couple months ago but dropped it because it seemed so weird,
and this is coming from a guy who posted a Vampire Hermione story! Well, we could all use a laugh
so continue if you dare. I'll post new chapters when I finish them. The whole thing should be
about 4 or 5 chapters.

~*~

"For the last time, I am *not* going to set up Wildfire Whiz-Bangs during my speech!
Why did I bother coming to you two for help?" Harry groaned.

Fred shrugged with a grin. "It was rather a stupid move on your part, wasn't it? But
seriously, I don't get your problem. Hermione helped write your speech-"

"If by help, you mean create, edit, and re-edit," George put in.

"-and Ron's helping you practice it. And the celebration's not for another few
days. Great Merlin, you *killed* You-Know-Who! What are you so worried about?"

Harry glared at the redheaded twin. "Oh, I don't know. Looking like a fool in front of
over thousands of people? Is that so hard to understand?"

The twins exchanged glances.

"You must have forgotten who you're talking to because-"

"We always look like fools-"

"And we're damn proud of it!" The two finished in chorus.

Harry rolled his eyes. He said, "Look, I was just hoping that you had something that could,
you know, give me some confidence. Maybe you guys wouldn't care, but I'd rather not faint
or vomit my guts out if I can help it."

"Well, we're not exactly in the habit of *helping* people," Fred replied.
"Sorry, Harry."

George said, "You're going to do fine. You're *Harry Potter*. You could tell
that audience to screw themselves and they'd clap until the roof came crashing down!"

"And won't that go well in future editions of *Hogwarts, a History*?" Harry
said sarcastically. "In the Great Hall at Hogwarts, Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived and
Defeater of He Who Must Not Be Named, told his adoring supporters to go 'eff'
themselves."

"I know I would read about it," Fred said smiling.

Harry threw up his hands in frustration. "I'm beginning to think Dean's idea of
picturing the audience in their underwear isn't so bad after all. Thanks anyway, guys, but I
got to get back before the teachers notice I'm not in Hogsmeade."

He closed his eyes and Disapparated.

Fred turned to George and raised an eyebrow. "Picture the audience in their
underwear?" He shook his head. "Muggles are weird."

"Tell me about it," George agreed. Then his eyes widened. "Wouldn't that make
a great Wheeze though?"

"Er... I think that would be crossing a line. We're twisted, but not *that*
twisted."

"Yeah, I guess the shop would be overrun by perverts."

"Not exactly the wholesome family image we want to present," Fred said with only a
hint of irony.

George sagged into a chair and cross his arms. "Being responsible sucks."

The two went back to totaling up their receipts when a smirk grew on Fred's face. He said,
"Wait, didn't Harry say he wanted our help?"

A matching smirk appeared on George's face. He said, "It would be a shame to waste such
a good idea-"

"And it *is* for the benefit of our financial backer," Fred continued.

"It's practically our *responsibility* to help out the savior of the wizarding
world."

"And we should make some for ourselves."

"Merely for research purposes."

"But of course."

~*~

Harry stared blankly at the color-coded notecards that Hermione had written up for him and
sighed deeply. He didn't want to do this! The largest group he had ever spoken in front of was
the D.A and he had known most of those people! He wondered if Ron and Hermione would be willing to
go hide in Bermuda with him until this whole thing blew over.

He knew his friends thought he was making a big deal over this, but they didn't understand.
For ten years, no one gave a damn about what he thought or what he had to say. Now he was
responsible for ushering in a 'new era?' Talk about pressure.

Life after Voldemort was supposed to be better for him. But Dumbledore was screening the
thousands of owls that were being sent to him, the other students were staring at him warily again,
and Snape was being a bigger bastard than usual, which was a feat even for him. On the other hand,
he no longer had a psychotic, racist wizard gunning for him, so that was a plus.

Thank Merlin for his best friends. They deflected the worst of his fan club. Ron was having a
blast recounting the Last Battle (and every embellishment he could get away with) to anyone who
would listen. And Hermione... she did whatever had to be done to help him. That was the only way to
describe it, but those words were so insufficient for everything she had done to cheer him up and
make school more bearable.

Harry heard the flutter of wings then he felt a presence land beside him on his bed. He opened
his eyes and smiled at the snowy-white owl. "Hey Hedwig. What have you got for me?" He
petted the owl as he untied a lurid green envelope from her leg. Hedwig then flew over to her water
bowl.

He saw the letters WWW on the front and felt a chill go down his back. He gingerly held the
envelope by a corner then realized he was being silly. The twins had undoubtedly booby-trapped the
letter, but he was reasonably sure they wouldn't harm him. Besides, he could do with a good
laugh.

With a shrug, he tore open the envelope. A cloud of sparkling dust saturated the air and Harry
involuntarily inhaled. He momentarily panicked then became confused when nothing happened. He
quickly checked his limbs and noticed nothing amiss.

Confused, Harry withdrew the sheet of paper from its housing and read it silently.

*Hiya Harry!*

*We've noticed that you've been a little stressed lately.* **What do you mean we,
white man?** *Fred, seriously, you got to stop quoting dad's telly shows.* **What you
talking about, Georgie?** *Excuse me while I go strangle my brother...*

*I'm back. Fred's currently contemplating his evil ways trapped in the dumbwaiter.
Anyway, we thought you could use some amusement so now presenting another fine product of Weasley
ingenuity is:* *Translucent Dust!*

*What does it do you might naturally ask. Well, you'll see.* **Or not see in this
case.**

*How did you get out?* **They haven't created a dumbwaiter that can hold Fred
Weasley!** *But why are you covered in tomato sauce?* **Never you mind!**

*Back to the point.* **We had a point?** *For the last two days, we have slaved night
and day* **(Mostly days)** *developing a way to help you get over your stage fright. We
think you'll like it.* **And if you don't, it was all George's idea.**
*Hey!*

*Insincerely,*

*Gred and* **Forge**

**P.S. This message will self-destruct.** *Uh, what he said.*

Harry stared at the letter in disbelief and almost singed his fingers when it burst into flames
and vanished. He thought that he was more confused now than before! He still didn't know what
the twins had done to him, but it had to be something.

He furrowed his forehead. He may not have been Hermione-smart, but he should be able to figure
this out. *Translucent* meant 'see-through,' but that didn't help him. He
hadn't turned invisible and he certainly hadn't gained the ability to see through
walls.

Lost in thought, he almost didn't hear the door open and the sound of light footsteps enter
the room.

"Harry, what are you still doing up here? We're going to be late for
Transfiguration," Hermione said.

"I'm coming," Harry replied absently, standing up. He raised his eyes, blanched,
stumbled backwards, and tripped over his bed.

"Harry! Are you okay?" Hermione asked, rushing over to him.

Harry suddenly found his bedposts quite fascinating. He had never noticed the engraved lions
before. It was very fine craftsmanship. Whiskers and everything.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

Harry automatically looked over at her and blushed. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut then
demanded, "What the hell are you wearing?"

Hermione sounded puzzled. "My robes and school uniform. Why?"

"Because you're in your-" Harry's brain cut in before he could say
'knickers.' He tried to cover up with fake coughing.

Hermione glanced at him suspiciously. "Are you alright?"

"Never better," Harry said, laughing nervously. "I just woke up from a strange
dream and was disoriented. Well, time for class! You go ahead. I'll catch up."

Still staring at him strangely, Hermione got up and left.

Harry picked himself up and mopped his now perspiring brow with his sleeve. He was going to kill
Fred and George! He tried to banish the memory of Hermione standing before him in nothing but her
white bra and panties. He couldn't allow himself to think of her toned, slender legs, or her
flat stomach, or her surprisingly fleshy chest... Bad Harry! Bad!

He took two deep, shuddering breaths and centered himself. The dust had probably worn off by
now. None of the Weasley twins' products ever lasted for very long. He'd just go down and
reassure Hermione that the last few days had gotten to him, but he was fine now.

But it was soon very clear that the effect had not gone away. And it seemed that Fred and George
had kindly made it so only the outer clothing of females appeared to be gone. It looked like one of
Dean's *Victoria's Secret* catalogs had exploded in the halls of Hogwarts.

Lavender, true to her name, was wearing some purple set thing that didn't appear to be
sufficient for the job for which they were created. Parvati was surprisingly more modest with her
choice of attire and while it wasn't as daring as Lavender's, it certainly looked more
comfortable.

Susan Bones walked by and Harry wondered why all girls didn't just wear front-snap bras as
they looked much simpler to put on. Then he was distracted by Katie Bell who was keeping her
strapless black bra from falling off by some mysterious means unknown to him.

While most of the young women walking past him wore wholly functional underclothing (which
didn't stop him from staring at them with widened eyes, of course), many wore unmentionables
that were clearly impractical for daily wear.

Good lord, was that a garter belt?

"Er, Harry," Hermione said, sounding embarrassed. "I would normally give you a
strict lecture, but I don't want to cause a commotion, and it's perfectly understandable
that since you don't have Voldemort after you, you want to stop and uh, smell the
roses..."

Harry looked at her in confusion. He also resolutely kept his eyes on her face.

"Do you think you can be a little bit more discreet?" Hermione whispered fiercely.

Harry could feel himself turn red from head to toe. He never had such a strong desire for Snape
to come bellowing for his head before.

"I know you're a boy and you really can't help yourself. Heaven knows how many
times Ron's stared at me when he thought I wasn't looking. You too for that matter, but
you're much better at it usually. It must be the glasses..."

The ground seemed to be taking an awfully long time to open up and swallow him.

"You *know*?" Harry asked, horrified.

Hermione smirked mischievously at him. "All girls know, Harry. So kindly put your eyes back
in your head."

Her words managed to cow him for all of 30 seconds before his hormones took over again. But he
was extra careful not to be obvious this time.

Maybe this won't be so bad, Harry thought. Not that he wanted this to be a permanent thing
or anything. He wasn't a pervert. Well, not more than was usual for a guy his age, he
mused.

Harry was so busy arguing with himself that when he got to the classroom and McGonagall called
his name, he looked at her without thinking. And he immediately learned a whole new meaning for the
phrase, 'Granny panties.'

The last thing he remembered was the floor rushing up at him.

-->



2. Revelations
--------------



The first thing he felt when he came to was the warm washcloth on his face. He was definitely in
the infirmary. Harry fearfully took off the cloth, ready to slam it back on if Madame Pomfrey was
anywhere nearby.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he was alone. He reached out to the side table
for his glasses and almost fumbled them when the image of his 80-year old Transfiguration professor
popped into his head.

He fought it down. Why was repression never around when *he* needed it? He decided that
what he saw before he passed out was the second most horrific, traumatizing sight of his life. The
first one being Voldemort pulling his naked, scaly self out of the cauldron. Okay, he was going to
be sick now.

It was a very good thing that the spell was gender-specific and only applied to females. If he
had been forced to see Snape or Dumbledore in their skivvies, he'd have to kill himself.

After he settled his stomach, he decided that he got a much needed kick in the pants. Harry
Potter may be many things, but he was a man of morals! Except when it suited him to lie, cheat, and
steal, of course.

Harry sighed again. He was just too sarcastic for his own good.

But first things first. He walked over the fireplace that was used for emergency calls and
transport. He threw some Floo powder in then stuck his head into the opening and said forcefully,
"Fred and George Weasley. Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes!"

His head swirled around like water circling a drain and when his vision cleared, he saw the
faces of two redheaded twins staring back at him. He could also see the dozens of underdressed
women walking past the store window behind them, which served as a visible reminder of the reason
for his anger.

"Harry! See anything interesting lately?" Fred asked with a wink.

"If by interesting, you mean sickening then yeah. I wound up in the infirmary because I saw
Professor McGonagall in her undergarments. She's like my grandmother, you morons!" Harry
realized that he might be overreacting just a tad, but he was too incensed to care.

"Ouch," Fred winced in sympathy. "That is seriously unfunny."

"Oh, I don't know. I think she looks pretty good for her age," George said.
"Mature and all that. Those breasts aren't just for show, you know. They've been
through the long haul!"

"You scare me sometimes, brother."

"And you disappoint me with your ageism," George replied solemnly.

"While I normally enjoy the comedy stylings of Tweedledee and Tweedledum, I'd just like
to know when this stupid dust will wear off," Harry said through gritted teeth.

The identical expressions of surprise directed at him did not comfort him.

"It should have worn off by now, shouldn't it?" Harry asked with a sinking
feeling.

"It was only a five minute dose," Fred replied slowly. He turned to George and asked,
"Do you think we put in too much Vanishing potion?"

George shook his head. "No, I was very careful about that. I think the modified
*Evanesco* spell is not melding together sufficiently with the Revealer ink. Maybe if we put
in some Invisibility cloak threads...?"

"No, that would just make *his* clothes appear to vanish. What we have to do is cancel
out the ocular Disillusionment spell..."

As the twins continued trading magical jargon, Harry realized that while the twins goofed off
almost all the time they were actually very smart in their own right. But he had to shake his head
as well, finally understanding Mrs. Weasley's frustration. All this work for a stupid joke!

Then a horrible, sickening thought occurred to him.

"I'm not going to be seeing the 11 and 12 year old girls in their underwear, am
I?" Harry asked fearfully.

It would be bad enough if he was discovered as a voyeur!

He could see the headlines now:

**Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived to be Lecherous!**

Not your average wizard, not your average pervert!

*Turn to page 5 for more on his pedophiling ways!*

And the press would eat him alive:

*A reporter*: Is it true you sleep in a dormitory at Hogwarts?

*Harry*: Yeah...

*Reporter*: So you admit that you sleep with boys!

*Harry*: What? No!

Reporter: Do you like pop music?

*Harry*: A little bit.

*Reporter*: So you and Michael Jackson have been having a secret love affair? Is there no
end to your perversity, Potter?

*Harry*: Get away from me!

*Reporter*: And is it true that you own a Firebolt in order to compensate for your
inadequacies in other areas?

(*Harry attacks the reporter*)

*Reporter*: He's molesting me! Get him off me! Get him off me!

Harry shuddered and thanked whatever gods there were that the seventh-year classes were in a
different part of the school from the other years.

"Of course you won't!" Fred replied indignantly, breaking Harry out of his
imaginings. "We may have forgotten to put an upper age limit on the spell, but we certainly
put a lower one in. Sixteen and over females only. We don't want any sickos around
here!"

"Just the run-of-the-mill perverts and dirty old men," George added helpfully.

Harry's emotions bounced between intense relief and anger then settled on the latter.

"Can you help me or not?" Harry demanded.

"Give us a few days," George replied absent-mindedly as he scribbled on a notepad.

"A few days for what?" a female voice asked.

Harry turned his disembodied head toward the voice. "Hermione!"

Floating next to him on the green flames was Hermione's bushy-hair covered head. She smiled
at him. "I've been calling your name for the last five minutes and I finally decided to
just pop in. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

There was a curious glint in Fred's eyes. He said, "Harry was just telling us about his
sight problem."

"I was hoping that they could update my prescription and get me some new frames, so I'd
look better for my speech," Harry said quickly. "And I told them if they could do it by
the weekend, I'd pay them *triple* the asking price. Well, thanks a lot guys. See you
later!"

He pulled his head out hoping that since he was the caller that would break the connection.
There was no such luck. Hermione's headless body was still kneeled in front of the
fireplace.

Hermione's semi-nude body...

Harry swallowed hard and tried to look away. He had only gotten a glimpse back in his room and
he hadn't realized exactly how beautiful his best friend was. She was no supermodel, but there
was just something about her that kept him from blinking.

He didn't understand it. He had gawked at numerous girls in the hallways and none of them
had made him feel all hot and tingly like this.

"Harry?"

"Aahh!" Harry yelled as he jumped up and banged his head on the top of the
fireplace.

"Harry!" Hermione cried. She quickly pulled out her wand and performed a Healing
spell.

Harry felt the forming bump on his head reverse itself and shrink. He said in a garbled voice,
"Thanks. Er, the twins didn't say anything weird, did they?"

"Not more than usual." Hermione gave him a stern look. "I want to know what's
going on with you! I almost had a heart attack when you fainted in class. Madame Pomfrey says
there's nothing physically wrong with you though."

"Well, she would know, right?" Harry said, relieved that no one knew about his little
problem.

Hermione glared at him. "I think I want a second opinion. Why are you acting so
funny?"

"It's just stress," Harry replied trying to look anywhere but at her. He wondered
where he was getting the blood to be blushing so much. "I'm just feeling strange that
Voldemort isn't around any more. It's thrown me off-balance, that's all." He gave
off a laugh that sounded forced even to him.

"Harry, please look at me," Hermione said patiently.

Looking at her was the problem! Then Harry had a brilliant idea. He took off his glasses.

Ah, now Hermione was blurry. Blurry Hermione was no threat to him. Blurry, shapely Hermione that
was showing tantalizingly slender legs that weren't quite in focus so it was like he was seeing
them through a veil...

Damn it, this was worse!

"Harry..." Hermione said in a dangerous tone.

Harry could sense the girl was frowning at him. Before she could say anything, he jumped to his
feet and said, "I better talk to McGonagall and get the homework. You know how important
homework is!"

"But you could just ask me..."

Harry ignored her as he tried to run out of the room. He banged his shin on a bedpost, stumbled
into a wall, and fell down the stairs before he remembered to put his glasses back on.

This blasted spell was going to kill him!

~*~

Harry snuck back into the infirmary after Hermione left and spent the rest of the day holed up
there. Since Hermione wasn't an idiot, she must have been waiting for him to come to her
because Dobby told him that she didn't leave the Tower except to go on patrol. She apparently
wasn't looking for him.

He was a bit put out at that until he realized that she had already asked him twice what was
going on with him and had probably come to the conclusion that he wasn't going to tell her
until he was good and ready. Unfortunately for her, that might be never because he wasn't going
to tell her about this!

Harry had to give George and Fred credit for one thing. He wasn't worried about his speech
any longer.

Why was he reacting the way he was around Hermione? Okay, maybe he was attracted to her. He
could admit that. But he was attracted to lots of girls. Cho may have been the only one he had a
crush on, but that didn't mean he never noticed anyone else. But it didn't *mean*
anything when he thought a girl was pretty.

So it was just a physical thing, and the reason it was so strong with Hermione was because he
knew her so well and it was embarrassing. That must be it, he decided, ignoring the fact that if it
were merely a matter of embarrassment, he wouldn't be having such a strong urge to look at her
over and over again.

After a long and sleepless night, he got up in time for breakfast. He had to endure a five
minute lecture about the need for proper rest later from Madame Pomfrey, which he used as an excuse
to stare firmly at his feet, before he could leave the infirmary.

Harry wasn't too worried that his friends would be mad at him. Ron had the Marauder's
Map and could be trusted not only not to reveal where he was hiding, but also to tell Hermione if
something happened to him.

Harry walked slowly through the castle and noticed that with some surprise that the parade of
nearly naked girls weren't nearly as affecting as they were the day before. He supposed that
one got desensitized to the situation after a while. It was like walking at the beach, he
reflected. One didn't spend the whole time ogling every woman in sight.

It was still a nice sight to look at and admire, but it was like looking at pretty paintings.
Yes, very splendid, but nothing to get terribly excited over. Oh, there were some girls he goggled
at on his way to the Great Hall, but they were the type of girls he would have goggled at even if
they had all their clothes on. Okay, now *that* sounded perverted.

This must mean that he probably also got over his Hermione-inspired seizures, Harry thought
excitedly. That idea instantly died when he saw Hermione eating breakfast in a sky blue bra and
panty set that accentuated her curves wonderfully.

So much for getting over it, Harry thought in an almost hysterical tone.

"Are you looking at something interesting?"

"You could say that," Harry replied hollowly. He dimly recognized the voice as
Luna's, the girl who wore butterbeer cap necklaces. Might as well get this over with, he
thought, looking over. There was nothing that could surprise him.

Except for the fact that Luna Lovegood apparently didn't believe in wearing underwear.

He would not make a natural blonde joke. No, he would not, Harry repeated to himself like a
mantra. Fixing his eyes on a spot two inches above the Ravenclaw's head, he asked, "Is
there something I can do for you, Luna?"

Luna shrugged. "I was just wondering why you were staring so intently at
Hermione."

"What makes you think I was staring at her?" Harry asked in what he hoped was an
indifferent manner.

"I guess you figured it out then," Luna replied, seemingly ignoring his question.

Harry genuinely liked Luna, but he always had the sense of being three steps behind whenever he
talked to her. "Figured out what exactly?"

"You like Hermione," Luna stated simply.

"I like Hermione," Harry repeated faintly.

Luna bobbed her head happily. "I knew that was it. You got that faraway, goofy look you get
when you stare at her. But it was deeper this time like you were seeing something you never saw
before. It was very nice speaking to you, Harry."

She left just as abruptly as she appeared, leaving Harry staring slack-jawed after her.

"I do not look goofy!" Harry finally called after her. Belatedly, he realized he was
in a room filled with hundreds of people who were now looking at him.

But for some reason, that didn't matter and he wandered over to his seating spot in a daze.
The students collectively shrugged and got back to what they were doing. Hermione gave him a
concerned glance from across the table, but happily, she didn't start questioning him. She
simply smiled then returned to her conversation with Ginny.

"Good to see you, mate," Ron said from an already full mouth. "Hermione was
making me nuts, asking me to look at the Map every five minutes to make sure you were safe. And if
she wasn't doing that, she was trying to steal the damn thing." His voice was filled with
both amusement and annoyance.

Harry smiled weakly at the other boy, but his thoughts were too jumbled for him to be good
company. Luna had to be mistaken. It wouldn't be the first time after all. He liked Hermione as
a friend and that was all. This bizarre physical attraction he was feeling toward his best friend
didn't indicate an *emotional* attraction of any kind. He still felt that Cho Chang was
pretty and he certainly didn't want anything to do with her relationship-wise.

But if he found both Cho and Hermione attractive, but it was only the latter that was making him
feel flushed and driving him crazy then there must be some difference in his feelings toward them.
It was only logical, said Harry's inner voice.

Harry told his traitorous inner voice which sounded suspiciously familiar to be quiet. Besides,
Hermione was not driving him crazy. He had better self-control than that! And he would prove
it.

"Hermione, could you pass me the syrup?" Harry asked, spearing a pancake with his
fork.

Hermione looked up in surprise then said, "Oh, no problem."

Mind over matter, Harry told himself with satisfaction. He didn't feel tongue-tied or shaky
at all. He gleefully took a gulp of orange juice.

Hermione picked up the syrup bottle then leaned over across the table to pass it to him. A
totally innocent gesture if not for her lack of a blouse.

Harry choked on his juice.

He coughed and sputtered and to add insult to injury, Ron smacked him hard in the back driving
all the air out of his lungs.

"Harry! Are you alright?" Hermione asked, reaching out to turn Harry's face toward
her so she could check for herself.

Harry stared into her worried brown eyes and felt her slender, caring fingers on his face, and
he was suddenly filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with hormones.

"Yeah, I think I'm alright," Harry replied hoarsely. "Perfectly
fine."

And the funny thing was that it was true. He was covered in orange juice and he could feel a
bruise already forming on his back, but he had never felt better.

-->



3. Pain and Punishment
----------------------



Harry gripped his pencil tightly and desperately tried to listen to Lupin's lesson, but his
eyes couldn't help drifting over to the girl on his left.

Ever since Harry admitted to himself that Luna might possibly, *possibly*, have something
of a point, he couldn't help noticing what *presence* his best female friend had.

Hermione was just the type of person that one couldn't help standing out. She was truly in
her element in the classroom. Her eyes sparkled with such enthusiasm when she volunteered to answer
a question and her nose would crinkle in such a fascinating way when she was momentarily
stumped.

And it went without saying that all the bouncing she was doing in her excitement was playing
havoc with his blood pressure.

"Harry?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat. "Yes, professor?"

Lupin gave him a look of deep amusement. "Since you find Miss Granger to be of greater
interest than me, I'm sure you won't mind being partnered with her." The older man
continued his walk down the row.

Harry could feel his ears turn red and he knew the rest of his face was the same way. It was
times like these that reminded him that Lupin was once a Marauder.

Hermione stared at Harry curiously. "What was that about?"

"I have no idea." Harry changed the subject. "So I guess we'll be dueling
today."

Hermione gave him another look. "Dueling? Weren't you listening, Harry? We're doing
muggle self-defense today."

Before Harry could reply, the desks started moving, so the two teenagers got out of the way.

Moments later, after the desks were cleared out of the way, Harry stood across from Hermione on
the conjured mat. He silently cursed Lupin for putting him in this position.

He didn't want to hurt Hermione. He didn't mind dueling with her, but whenever muggle
self-defense day came around he always made sure to partner up with Ron or one of the other guys.
Unlike in the Muggle world, there was no holding back even in practice. Well, he'd just have to
be careful not to hurt her.

Harry lunged forward with a quick punch, which Hermione dodged. When Hermione jumped out of the
way, her chest shifted with her and because his eyes were tracking that swaying movement, Harry
missed seeing the roundhouse kick that slammed into his ribs.

Harry fell to his knees with a grunt.

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth in horror. "Harry! I'm so sorry. I thought
you'd block that."

"No problem, I can take it." Harry wheezed, getting to his feet. "Just
underestimated you, that's all. That won't happen again."

Hermione looked flattered at this.

Harry took a deep breath. Eyes above neck level, he told himself.

Moments later, he was knocked off his feet by a backfist to the side of his head.

Hermione stared down at him with her hands on her hips. "What are you doing? You're
supposed to keep your eyes on my center!"

"I'd rather not," Harry managed to gasp.

"No, she's quite right," Lupin said, taking his eyes off Ron and Neville. "In
battle the eyes tell what your opponent is thinking; her center tells which way she is
going."

"She's not the only thing that's going," Harry muttered. He tried to keep his
eyes directly on Hermione's navel, but he could still see cups, straps, and the things that
went in them.

Curse his excellent peripheral vision!

Desperate to avoid another hit, Harry grabbed Hermione in a bear hug and tried to ignore the
fact that from his perspective he was holding a struggling, nearly naked girl.

He couldn't help noticing that from his vantage point that he could look down directly into
Hermione's cleavage.

He was barely able to shift out of the way when Hermione tried to elbow him in the stomach.

They're just breasts, damn it! Harry thought to himself in disgust. He shouldn't let
them distract him.

But they were such *nice* breasts...

It was on that very thought that Hermione broke his hold and flipped him over her shoulder.

She sure got over her hesitance to hit him rather quickly, he thought sourly from his position
on the ground watching Hermione come at him.

Once an opponent is on the ground, don't let him get up. That was one of the first lessons
they'd ever learned.

"Harry, I won't have you going easy on me," Hermione complained while trying to
stomp on him with her feet.

Harry struggled not to laugh as he rolled across the floor trying to get some breathing room to
jump back on his feet.

Going *easy*? He'd like to watch her fight coherently with him jumping around in his
underwear.

Harry was suddenly frozen in mid-roll by the thought of both of them in their undergarments. And
by the other somewhat unsavory thoughts that were occupying his mind.

That was why he couldn't avoid the axe kick that landed on his stomach.

"Somehow, I think I deserved that," Harry mumbled before he curled up into a ball and
tried not to pass out.

"Merlin, we were just sparring, Hermione!" Ron said, coming over. "You didn't
have to kill him!"

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione replied automatically as she knelt down and placed her now
glowing hands on Harry's stomach.

"Why did you stop so suddenly like that?" Hermione asked miserably. "I could have
really hurt you."

Ron opened his mouth again and shut it when he saw Hermione's glare.

Harry could feel the pain drain out of him from Hermione's healing touch. Wanting to keep
the argument from escalating, Harry said, "Ron, you have a black eye and Neville has a bloody
nose. You telling Hermione that she's being excessively violent is a little hypocritical,
don't you think?"

From long experience, Harry knew that he would be the next target of Hermione's wrath, so he
immediately turned to her without waiting for Ron's response. He said, "And Hermione, I
was not going 'easy' on you. It's true that I'm having a bad day, but even
considering that, you're just a surprisingly good fighter," Harry said honestly. Among
other things, he added mentally.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Surprisingly?"

"Did I say surprisingly? I think that was the concussion speaking," Harry replied
quickly. He smiled tentatively at her.

She smiled back happily. "I guess everybody has an off day. I just wanted to prove I could
keep up with you, and I went a little overboard." Her face grew worried. "You're not
worried about being beaten up by a girl, are you?"

"Oh please," Harry snorted. "I killed Voldemort. If anything, instead of bringing
me down, this just makes *you* seem much more terrifying."

He nodded at the onlookers who were staring at Hermione in awe and disbelief.

Ron grinned at this. "The Girl who Kicked the Ass of the Boy Who Lived. It has a nice ring
to it."

Harry just grinned. Killing the most evil wizard ever did wonders for one's self-esteem.

"Okay, I think that's enough for today," Lupin announced. "Class ended five
minutes ago. Please stop by the infirmary if you have any serious injuries. Harry, I'd like to
speak to you for a moment."

Hermione reached out and squeezed Harry's hand briefly. "We'll see you later, okay?
And maybe you'll tell me what's going on with you."

Harry didn't bother to reply to that and instead took a second to relish the feel of her
smaller hand grabbing his. He didn't even bother getting up as the class filed out. He may have
been healed, but he was concerned that might merely be a temporary condition and it'd be safer
if he stayed where he was.

"Harry?" Lupin asked.

With his eyes closed, Harry quipped, "Remus, why have you forsaken me?"

Lupin chuckled. "Cute. Come on, here we go." He reached out and pulled Harry to his
feet.

"I'm serious," Harry insisted. "You're Snape in disguise, aren't
you?"

"If you think that Severus would ever impersonate a werewolf, especially me, then you were
hit harder than I thought," Lupin replied smiling.

"Then why?"

"Two reasons. One, you can't avoid fighting girls forever. That type of attitude can
get you killed. I know you don't like the idea, but you might not always have a wand to protect
yourself against the Bellatrix Lestranges of the world."

Harry frowned but reluctantly agreed. He asked, "And the other reason?"

Lupin looked sheepish. "I guess it was a little mean of me, but Sirius did almost the same
thing by setting up James and I simply couldn't help resist repeating history."

"You got me beaten up!" Harry protested.

"I apologize. I didn't think it would go so far. James only got tagged a few times
after all and he wasn't as good a fighter as you. You must really like Hermione."

Harry didn't bother to deny this. "So you're saying dad went nuts over mom?"
His eyes narrowed. "It was mom, wasn't it?"

Lupin laughed. Then he replied, "It was definitely Lily. James always got a kick out of
bugging her, but it wasn't until seventh year that she really got into his system. You should
have seen him. He flew into a goal post once because he was watching her and Sirius was very upset
at losing the game. He thought that having Lily beat James up in sparring would rid him of his
crush."

"I'm assuming it didn't," Harry said.

"Turns out James had a thing for strong women." Lupin grinned. "Remind you of
anyone?"

"My dad wasn't under a curse concocted by two genius idiots that caused him to see
things that weren't supposed to be seen and nearly drove him insane, was he?"

Lupin blinked. "Er, I don't believe so."

"Not exactly the same then," Harry muttered.

Lupin looked at him strangely but didn't press the issue.

Harry grew a little worried. Did he actually have feelings for Hermione? Maybe it was just his
messed up hormones. His only other real interest in a girl was Cho and this didn't feel the
same. It felt different, and he couldn't tell if it was different in a good way or not.

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. He'd have to think about this later. He looked
over at Lupin and said, "Remus, are there any more practical jokes from the good old days you
want to re-enact?"

"Not for the moment," Lupin replied with a wink.

Harry had to smile at this. The end of the war had brought changes to everyone and if
reawakening Remus Lupin's inner prankster meant a few bruises, then that was a price he was
willing to pay.

~*~

The rest of the day didn't go nearly as well.

Harry was nearly eaten by a Lethifold in Hagrid's class, he blew up a cauldron in Potions
and so had to spend two hours cleaning the room while Snape made caustic comments, and then had a
mob of girls come after him since they decided today was the day to ask for his autograph. Since
the last time that happened, he lost his shirt and shoes escaping, he got the hell out of
there.

And all that was only before dinner.

These weren't all Hermione-related incidents, but enough of them were that he was becoming
increasingly concerned about his continued survival if he didn't come to grips with whatever he
was feeling soon.

He now sat in front of the fireplace in the common room trying to summon the energy to go
upstairs and collapse in his bed.

"Whoa, I didn't expect you to still be up," Fred's voice said.

Harry looked up to see the redhead's face in the fireplace. He asked wearily, "Any good
news?"

"Not really. We're making some progress, but it'll still be a few days. I just
wanted to check up on you. How are you doing?"

"I've had better days."

"You thinking about Hermione?"

"Yeah..." Harry replied unthinkingly. "What? No!"

Fred grinned widely. "Aw, does little Harrykins have a little crush on lil'
Mione?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry declared.

"Harry and Hermione sitting in a tree," Fred sang. "F-U-"

"FRED!"

"-M-I-G-A-T-I-N-G. Fumigating." Fred gave Harry an innocent look. "What'd you
think I was trying to spell? You have such a dirty mind, Harry. Tsk, tsk."

Harry fought against the impulse then finally gave in. "Why the hell would we be
fumigating?"

"It's a tree. Lots of bugs," Fred replied without blinking an eye. "So have
you told the lucky lady yet?"

"I'm not even sure how I feel about her," Harry replied. "I haven't had a
moment to even think!"

"Do you want my advice?" Fred asked. The flames around his head jumped eagerly.

"Oh god, no."

"Okay, here we go," Fred said. "Girls are like a box of chocolate. They're
sweet on the inside and covered in attractive packaging on the out. And they're also
ridiculously expensive and will hold grudges for absurd lengths of time just because you forget to
meet with her and her mother on a lunch date one afternoon because you were trapped in a stupid
dumbwaiter your idiot brother locked you in. Do you get me?"

"Fred, if I didn't think I'd set myself on fire trying, I'd strangle
you."

Fred sighed. "Look, Harry, you think too much. Just talk to her and see what
happens."

Harry decided to lighten up on the guy. He said, "I'll think about it. Look, thanks for
trying to cheer me up, but I really just need to sleep."

"Hey, things will look better in the morning. They always do. Unless you wake up to my
brother's ugly face. Ugh," Fred said, shuddering.

"Fred... never mind," Harry said, rubbing his forehead. "Just call me when you
have a cure, okay?"

"No problem. Oh, one thing before I go. Check this out." Fred's head began to
slide back and forth across the fireplace opening.

His voice took on an ominous tone. "There is nothing wrong with your fireplace. Do not
attempt to adjust the Floo powder. We will control the horizontal." His face began to move up
and down. "We will control the vertic- ow!"

George's voice echoed through the opening. "I told you to stop doing that!"

"You have no sense of culture! I don't know what I'm going to do with
you..."

Fred's voice faded as his head vanished.

Harry finally allowed himself a small smile as he got to his feet. Maybe things would look
better in the morning. The thought of morning made him remember breakfast and he touched his cheek
in remembrance. He looked over at the girls' dormitory for a long moment.

Maybe it hadn't been that bad a day after all.

~*~

AN: That was just a little bit of filler. Harry's been punished for his peeping ways
*snicker* and now he's ready to do some serious thinking. Unless something else gets in the
way, that is...

-->



4. On the Run
-------------



Harry needed time to think, and he knew that being around Hermione for the time being was not
conducive to actual thinking. And she was getting increasingly insistent that he talk to her.

So the next day, he asked Ron to run interference and keep Hermione occupied. He, of course, did
not tell him that the reason for this request was to come to grips with his new feelings.

He did have to tell him about the Translucent Dust though since Ron wanted reassurance that
Harry really wasn't going crazy. In retrospect, telling Ron the truth might have been a bad
idea.

At first, Ron thought what had happened to him was hilarious and he wanted to immediately owl
his brothers for a product sample. The two were discussing the matter in a corner of the Gryffindor
Common Room and Harry had already had to plead twice for Ron to lower his voice.

"Only you could get in a mess like this," Ron said, chuckling.

"It's not as much fun as it seems," Harry grumbled.

It was at that moment that Ginny passed by and smiled at them in acknowledgment.

Harry quickly averted his eyes, but it was too late. He had already gotten a glimpse of her pink
and frilly underwear.

There was a chilling silence.

Ron turned bright red and then he lunged for Harry. "Die, Potter!"

Harry had gotten his wish. He didn't have to worry about being around Hermione since he was
being chased by Ron around the castle. He really had to stop challenging Fate like this.

"Hey, let's talk about this!" Harry yelled, dodging hexes and jinxes with his
Quidditch-honed reflexes as he ran through the dungeons with an enraged Weasley at his heels. He
cursed himself for leaving his wand on his bed.

And it was just his luck that it was lunchtime and everyone was either outside, in their rooms,
or eating, so there was no one around to witness this potential homicide.

Wait, lunch! Harry made a dash for the Great Hall. Surely Ron wouldn't attack him with so
many witnesses!

A few minutes later, Harry found himself dodging bowls of coleslaw, turkey legs, and other
assorted food items.

Okay, he could admit when he was wrong. Where the hell were the teachers anyway? They were never
around when he *needed* to get a detention!

The other students simply watched in fascination and none of them seemed inclined to lend a hand
on behalf of their savior and hero.

"Bunch of ungrateful jerks," Harry muttered, scrambling to keep a table between him
and the avenging nutball that was supposedly one of his best friends. At least Hermione wasn't
around to see this.

He bumped into a girl and mumbled a quickly apology.

Then he recognized who it was. "Hi, Luna."

"How are you and Ronald doing today, Harry?" Luna asked curiously, not batting an eye
at the chase scene / food fight occurring before her.

"Now's not a good time," Harry said nervously.

"Luna too?" Ron screamed, his face the color of a tomato. "You bastard!"

Harry tried to protest, but his vision was obstructed by a slice of pumpkin pie.

He wiped the mess off his face and decided that a tactical retreat was in order.

And because these types of situations follow a pattern, they eventually ended back up in the
common room.

"Damn it, Ron, I didn't mean to look at her!"

"So you admit you've been looking at her?" Ron cried triumphantly.

"Not like *that*, you git!" Harry shouted back in frustration. "Besides, I
thought you wanted me to get together with Ginny."

"Doesn't mean I want you looking at her unmentionables!"

"Shut up, you idiot!" Harry hissed.

"Did someone mention unmentionables?" Dean asked, coming over from his seat by the
fireplace.

"No, we were talking about Unspeakables," Harry said quickly and congratulated himself
for his clever lie.

"You mean the unspeakable things you've been doing to my sister?" Ron accused,
pointing a finger at him like he was a suspect in a murder mystery.

Harry groaned.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What's Ron talking about, Harry?"

"Oh, crap," Harry said as he backed away from the two approaching figures.

The tension was broken when Lavender and Parvati walked up to them and asked what was going
on.

"Nothing," Harry replied quickly. Then he gave Dean a meaningful look. "And I
really mean that."

Dean looked disgruntled but didn't press the issue. Ron merely grunted.

Lavender looked back and forth between the three guys then she shrugged. She said,
"Whatever. Come on, guys! It's time for Divination."

Harry paled.

Divination. Trelawny. Oh no.

He wondered if he had time to gouge out his eyes.

~*~

Somehow he made it through the third most horrifying, traumatizing sight of his life. Then he
was confronted by his second when McGonagall came by to give them detention for the next three
days.

Harry cursed the School Board for making Divination a required subject. A year ago, word had
somehow leaked that the prophecy that screwed up his life had came from Trelawny and now every
parent and their dog hoped their child would turn out to be a Seer.

The sight of those butter-filled thighs covered not nearly enough by her silk thong...

He shuddered and tried not to retch. Mentally, he moved the horror up above McGonagall on his
list. Trelawny was currently fighting Voldemort's snaky butt for dominance as the memory that
would drive him insane.

"My life is hell," Harry moaned, trudging up the stairs to the rooms.

"The beating I was going to give you suddenly doesn't look so bad, does it?" Ron
asked with a wicked smile.

Harry snorted. "Please. I was just holding back for the sake of our friendship."

"You just keep telling yourself that..."

Harry opened the door and saw Hermione stretched out on top of his bed, looking like she just
came from shooting a commercial for an underwear ad.

He gasped, whirled around, and slammed into Ron.

"Oof! What's the big idea?" Ron complained. He stuck his head into the room and a
look of comprehension appeared on his face. Then he started snickering.

"It's not funny!" Harry insisted.

"She's just sleeping. I don't see the big deal."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Did your short-term memory just wipe itself?"

Ron shrugged. "She's cute, sure. And I'm sure she looks better to you without the
stuffy robes, but it's still just Hermione."

"She's more than cute," Harry replied without thinking.

Ron stared at him, astonishment written all over his face. "Is that why you wanted me to
keep her away from you? I thought it was just because of your condition. Are you saying that
you-"

Hermione chose that moment to wake up and like most sleepers she started working out the kinks
in her limbs.

Oh, God, not the stretching. Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts, Harry chanted
silently.

She looked at them sleepily, her hair sticking up all over the place.

She really is cute, Harry thought. He had an almost overwhelming urge to hug her, which he
firmly squashed.

"Sorry about that," Hermione said. "Professor Vector canceled Arithmancy today
and I thought I'd wait for you where you least expected it. I guess I nodded off. Anyway,
Harry-"

Harry interrupted, "Hermione, I need you to leave."

Hermione looked affronted. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm trying to figure something out right now and I
can't do it with you here. I promise you, I swear to you, Hermione, I will answer any question
you ask tomorrow, but I can't do that now."

Hermione still looked prepared to argue.

"*Please?*" Harry pleaded.

There was a long pause then Hermione nodded. She said, "Tomorrow then. But I won't be
put off any longer."

Harry collapsed on his bed as soon she left. He was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of
vanilla and ink. Harry groaned. So much for having a clear head.

Ron remained at the door, staring at him with wide eyes. Finally, he asked, "So you fancy
Hermione?"

"I don't know. That's the problem," Harry said.

"You looked like you were going to have a heart attack. Seems like you fancy her to
me," Ron replied, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Maybe it's just hormones," Harry said looking up at the ceiling. "Don't
you think that if I liked her I would have realized it before? I never even thought of her *that
way* until I saw her without her clothes. How freaking shallow is that?"

"You could look at it that way or maybe, you just realized that you've been taking
Hermione for granted," Ron said.

Harry sat up. "Who are you, and what have you done with Ron Weasley?"

"Just listen to me. Dad always said a healthy relationship needed trust, respect, and
attraction. You've had the first two for years. Now, you're just adding the physical
part."

Harry lied down again as he worked the idea over in his mind. He certainly trusted Hermione with
his life and his respect for her skills, loyalty, and just her in general knew no bounds. But did
he really think they would be a good match?

She liked to study, he preferred being outdoors. She wanted to bring people together while he
would have been happy if the people just left him alone. She had an obsessive need to plan out
almost every aspect of her life, and he had no problem with winging whatever came at him. She said
po-ta-to, he said po-tae-toe. Okay, they both actually pronounced it the same way, but that
wasn't the point!

And what was the point? The point was none of that mattered. Hermione was actually ideal for a
girlfriend. She wasn't a clone of him (which was good since someone had to do the thinking
around here!) and she wasn't a complete alien (though she was a member of the confusing species
known as girls, but he didn't hold that against her). She balanced him out rather well.

Wait, girlfriend? Was he actually considering it? They told each other practically everything,
they had fun together, and they didn't fight like cats and dogs. It didn't hurt that she
was intelligent, beautiful, and had saved his life at least half a dozen times at the last
count.

So why the hell not?

"I think that I'd like to try," Harry said at last. "But I don't know
how. I guess I'll just take it slow. You know, drop a few hints, see how she responds, then
move on from there."

"Or you could just flat-out tell her when Hermione asks you what's going on and you
have to tell her the absolute truth," Ron suggested.

The room was silent except for the sound of Harry smacking himself with his pillow.

"Oh, damn it. I forgot about that," Harry muttered. He pressed his pillow over his
face in the hopes that he could knock himself out.

So much for dilly-dallying about this for the next ten years.

A thought occurred to him. Harry raised his head and glanced at Ron. "So you're not
bothered by this? I know you used to be interested in her and you-"

Ron waved a hand. "That ship sailed a long time ago. We just weren't right for each
other."

"And you think Hermione and I are? Oh, it doesn't matter, anyway," Harry sighed.
"Hermione couldn't possibly be interested in a lunatic like me."

Ron seemed to be fighting back a smile. "You can be such an idiot sometimes,
Harry."

Then he left, leaving Harry to wonder what that was supposed to mean.

-->



5. Confession
-------------



AN: 9-13-2005 - I actually posted two chapters today, so if you haven't read chapter 4 yet
go back and read it. I'll wait.

~*~

"Hermione, I need to speak to you. Please put down your wand first."

Harry tried again.

"Hermione, have I told you what a kind and more importantly, peaceful person you
are?"

The magic mirror to which he had been practicing said disdainfully, "Your apology would
seem more heartfelt if you weren't so obviously worried about your own hide."

"What do you know?" Harry retorted. "You're a bloody mirror!"

But the mirror had a point. Harry wasn't too worried that Hermione would physically hurt him
(after all, she wouldn't want to repeat herself, he thought wildly), but he didn't think he
could bear to see the disappointment in her eyes. Who would want to be the girlfriend of a
pervert?

"It's not my fault though," Harry grumbled.

"Are you sure that you're the Boy-Who-Lived? You sound more like the
Boy-Who-Whined."

Harry pulled the mirror off the wall and dangled it over the ground. "What was that again?
I can't hear you over the gravity."

"Break me and you'll get seven years bad luck," the mirror warned.

"I've already had seven years of bad luck! Not mention the 11 years worth I had before
coming here. So now that I think about it, I think I'm overdue for some *good*
luck!"

"Why are you yelling at your mirror?"

Harry turned around to see Hermione watching him with amusement.

"I said that I was the fairest one in the land and it disagreed," Harry quipped
weakly. He quickly turned around to put the mirror back on the wall and started fiddling with
it.

He decided that he really didn't like the disorienting feeling he got every time he was near
Hermione. He really hoped that it went away at some point. It was stupid to feel off-balanced
around someone he'd known for seven years.

"Don't think I haven't noticed that you've been avoiding looking at me. Do I
suddenly look repulsive?"

Hermione's voice was teasing, but she also sounded a little upset.

"Quite the opposite, really," Harry replied softly. He gave up the charade of fixing
the mirror and took a deep, soothing breath. When he turned around to look at Hermione, he felt
calm.

As he suspected, part of the reason for his panic attacks was simply Hermione appearing when he
wasn't prepared for it. He still felt giddy and his pulse was racing, but he wasn't in
danger of going into epileptic shock this time.

"Hermione, I know that I've been acting loony all week..." Harry trailed off.
There was no easy way to say this. It was simply too absurd. He went with the simplest method.
"It was Fred and George."

Hermione, whose worried frown had deepened with his pause, looked relieved at his words.
"Oh." Then her face turned worried again. "*Oh*. What did they do to
you?"

Harry groped for the perfect words then finally gave up, deciding to trust in Hermione's
ability to put pieces together. He said, "X-ray vision. Girls. White cotton."

Hermione looked puzzled for a moment then she turned bright pink.

She made a move to cover herself then dropped her arms to her side. Her nostrils flaring and her
hands curled into fists, Hermione took a step forward and Harry involuntarily stepped back into the
wall.

"So you've been ogling me and other girls for days and you didn't tell me?"
Hermione asked in a calm, strained voice.

Harry had a really bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Angry, out-of-her-mind Hermione he
could deal with, but deceptively calm, restrained Hermione meant the full use of her brain and
abilities and that promised bad things for his continued status as a human being.

"I know this looks really bad," Harry said. He should have been scrambling for a way
to spin this favorably, but he was too busy wondering if after Hermione turned him into a frog, Ron
would get him a lily pad to sit on.

"Did you tell Ron?" Hermione sneered.

How bad could flies taste anyway?

"I suppose you and Ron have been having a good laugh about this."

This snapped him out of his thoughts. "Hey, wait a minute!"

Hermione's voice rose with every word. "I thought we were friends. I know you had to
keep secrets from me sometimes but something like this? You just kept lying and running away from
me. Why didn't you tell me? Were you afraid that I'd take away your fun?"

The anger on Hermione's face was being replaced by sadness and Harry couldn't take
it.

"I was embarrassed!" Harry yelled. He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.
"I didn't want you to think I was a pervert. I was having Fred and George take care of it,
so you'd never know. But I think I would have ended up telling you anyway if it wasn't
for... the thing is... damn it, Hermione, you're beautiful!"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, mortified. Why did he say that? Why wasn't she saying
anything? Oh, God, he had ruined everything...

"I am?"

Harry opened his eyes to see Hermione's eyes, full of hope and uncertainty, gazing back at
him. The nervous feeling in his stomach vanished like it had never been.

"Yes, you are," Harry replied gently. "Inside and out. You're the most
amazing person I've ever known. And I was feeling things for you that I never thought I would.
I didn't know how to deal with it. I felt ashamed and guilty for looking at you like... like,
how a guy looks at a girl."

Harry looked at the floor with his hands clenched tightly. Why was this so hard?

"Harry, it's okay," Hermione said kindly, drifting slowly toward him.
"It's normal to feel that way around girls, even ones that are your best friends. I guess
you're just not used to seeing me as a real girl-"

"It's not like that!" Harry interrupted, anxious to correct her misunderstanding.
"It's not just a physical thing. It's more than that. I think I fancy you,
Hermione."

Hermione halted, mere inches away from him.

Harry had expected many things. Shock, denial, and even outright tears of either the
I'm-so-happy or the I'm-sorry-to-crush-you variety, but he had never expected Hermione to
look afraid.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry asked, taking a step toward her.

Hermione's voice trembled. "Don't you dare say that if you don't mean it, Harry
James Potter."

"Of course I mean it!" Harry replied. He meant to sound upset, but he couldn't
quite manage it. It was because he was getting the sense that his fear of his feelings being
one-sided was unfounded.

"What makes you so sure that you're interested in me? After all this time?"
Hermione shot back at him.

Harry understood the unspoken accusation. His first impulse was to say that if it was merely
hormones he wouldn't have been so affected by her. After all, while her body was awesome, there
were other girls that were more spectacular, but it was still her that he couldn't keep his
eyes off.

He firmly squashed that impulse. He may not have known much about girls, but that was obviously
a suicidal approach. There had to be a better way to say it.

Harry rubbed his arms, wishing he knew what he was supposed to do with them. It was a little
awkward just standing here with his heart on his sleeves. Though at least he had sleeves unlike
poor Hermione who simply had to be mortified.

Finally, not caring how stupid he sounded, he said, "I always knew you were a girl. I had
just never considered that you might be the girl for *me*. It just feels right and I know, I
know, feelings can be deceiving, but if it feels right *and* it makes sense... I have a list
if you want to hear it..."

"You think we make sense?" Hermione asked. Her eyes were curiously bright.

Encouraged, Harry replied, "Yeah, I do. And I think I'd like to find out for
sure."

"I'd like that too," Hermione replied, giving him an almost shy smile.

Harry smiled back at her, but he was inwardly sweating. He was overjoyed beyond belief, but he
had no idea what he was supposed to do at the moment. He had never expected to get this far! It
seemed rather anti-climatic to say, 'see you later' then leave and offering a handshake was
plain stupid.

Before his thoughts could get any further, he felt the extremely familiar sensation of Hermione
Granger tackling him. He almost fell over.

She was squeezing him with all her might and it was wonderful. A hug with Hermione always felt
comfortable and uplifting, but he had never felt like he was going to burst with happiness
before.

Life was actually going well for him. He wasn't a frog, Hermione liked him back and
didn't think he was a pervert (or if she did, she evidently didn't mind), he was being
hugged by a pretty girl, and the sight of her underwear wasn't making him pass out.

It was a little weird though. His fingers felt fabric, but his eyes insisted he was touching her
bare back. He closed his eyes and that took care of the problem. Then the absurdity of what he was
doing struck him.

Harry laughed.

Hermione pulled her head back to look at him. "What's so funny?"

He tried to force back his mirth but it just kept bubbling out of him, so he finally just
gasped, "My life is just so weird sometimes."

Hermione's lips curved upward. "Just sometimes?"

That set him off again. He could feel the tension of the past few days drain out of him. He felt
good.

Hermione set her head back against his shoulder. She said, "I'm glad you're feeling
so well. You're going to do great at your speech tomorrow."

Harry stiffened.

Speech? TOMORROW?!!

Ah, the downside. His old, familiar friend.

Then he remembered where he was and who he was with and he relaxed. Some things were just more
important.

Harry set his chin atop the mass of brown hair and decided to simply enjoy the moment.

~*~

AN: All good things come to an end. The epilogue should hopefully be up by next week. And yes,
Harry will be cured at that point.

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6. Epilogue
-----------



**Epilogue**

Step. Step. Step. Turn. Step. Step. Step. Turn. Step...

"You're wearing a hole into the carpet, mate," Ron said, annoyed.

Harry looked up from his pacing and glared at his best friend. "Madam Malkin said that my
dress clothes would arrive this morning. It is now two hours before my speech and they are not
here. So please *excuse* me if I am *annoying* you."

Ron threw up his hands. "I can't talk to you when you're like this. See you
downstairs." He made a move to walk off in a huff.

Harry stopped him. He said, "I'm sorry. I just want this day to be over with. I'm
finally at the point where I can have a normal life. It's bad enough I'm going to be seeing
half the audience in their underwear and that I still have my original problem of speaking in front
of thousands of people. Is it too much to ask that everything else go smoothly today?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't see why you're so worried. You could tell the audience to go
screw themselves and they wouldn't care."

Harry stared at Ron for a long moment. At last, he said, "I finally see the
resemblance."

"Whatever," Ron replied. "My parents should be here soon and I gotta go meet
them." He left the room.

Harry glared at his window as if that would cause his clothes to suddenly materialize.

"Oh, Harry, you really have to learn to relax."

"Easy for you to say, Hermione," Harry replied. He turned around and his eyes bugged
out.

"Wuh-whuh..."

At first, Harry thought that Hermione was topless, but then he realized there were floral-shaped
*things* attached to... Gah, he could feel his brain melting.

Hermione blushed but kept her hands on her hips. She said, "They're adhesive
pasties."

Harry could see that. It was what they were adhering to that was giving him trouble.

"Why-why..."

Hermione looked annoyed. "What else was I supposed to do? I can't wear a bra in this
dress and with you confessing to me practically before the ceremony there wasn't time to get
another one."

Harry forced his eyes upward then said, "You could have warned me!"

Hermione shrugged producing interesting secondary motions. "You've been gawking at me
for the better part of a week. It makes little difference now."

"Little difference?" Harry yelled. "It's like the difference between plain,
everyday dishes and the fine china!"

Hermione blinked. "I don't know if I was just insulted or complimented... Harry, open
your eyes! If I can handle this, so can you!"

"No, I can't. Everyone knows you're the more mature one! They're not going to
fall off, are they?" Harry asked worriedly.

"These are magically spelled on so don't be expecting any wardrobe malfunctions,
mister." There was a pause then Hermione asked lightly, "Is that what you're hoping
will happen?"

"Yes! No! Aaah!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes popping open out of sheer panic. He was
preparing to jump out the window when he noticed that Hermione was laughing.

"Hermione!"

Hermione smiled at him. "I'm sorry, Harry, but it just doesn't *feel* like
I'm doing anything improper. You're the one with perverted vision, not me."

"You're having way too much fun with this," Harry accused.

Hermione gave him an innocent expression. "I have no idea what you're talking
about."

Harry was about to rebut when he realized something. "Hey, I'm not going to pieces any
more."

Hermione gave him a mock pout. "Has my charms worn off so quickly then?"

Harry grinned. "Never. You look beautiful."

And she did. Harry saw that her face looked different tonight, which he supposed was due to
makeup, and she looked great in it, though he probably would have thought the same even if she
wasn't wearing any. Her hair was coiffed up nicely and he was sure her dress was good too
though obviously he had no opinion on that subject.

Harry was just about to ask Hermione if he could go through a final run-through of his speech
when Hedwig flew in carrying a long, wrapped package.

"Finally!" Harry said. He quickly unwrapped the box then performed a Switching Spell
to exchange what he was for his new clothing.

Harry looked over himself in satisfaction. The black silk robes he was wearing was styled in the
pattern of a Japanese man's formal kimono. He was told that it was quite fashionable these days
and he could see why.

"Wow," Hermione breathed.

"You don't have to look so surprised," Harry said.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Can you see this?" Harry dropped his jaw and widened his eyes exaggeratedly.

"You prat!" Hermione said and punched his arm playfully.

Harry pretended to be mortally wounded. "Hey, my bruises have just begun to fade!"

Hermione smiled at him. "This is nice, isn't it?"

Harry straightened up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He thought her smile should be
bottled and sold to the depressed. It was that uplifting. He said, "Sometimes, I can't
believe this is happening."

"You know what I can't believe? That you seeing me can make you go so crazy. I
can't believe I spark that kind of reaction in you."

"You should believe it." Harry shrugged. "Besides, you know me. I never do
anything by halves."

"Anything besides your homework, you mean," Hermione teased.

Harry couldn't resist. "I didn't have to. That's what you were for."

Hermione punched him again, this time not so gently.

"Ow!"

~*~

The Great Hall had been magically expanded to accommodate all the guests for this occasion. It
was quite amazing, but Harry was more concerned over what would happen if an expanded space
collapsed back to its normal size while people were still in it.

The room was still rather empty since people wouldn't start officially arriving for another
hour or so. Harry and his strained hormones were relieved at this.

A corner of the dining hall was sectioned off as a private booth for Harry to relax in until it
was time for his speech. Hermione stood outside the curtained area, screening the people who wished
to talk to him. Lupin had already been by as well as Arthur Weasley who had shown up before his
family in his capacity as a Ministry official.

Harry stared up at the illusion of the night sky on the ceiling simply trying to take everything
in, knowing that his life at Hogwarts was coming to a close.

"Memories are a wonderful thing, are they not?" Dumbledore asked, coming to stand
beside him. "At least, they can be. But even the negative ones can make the positive ones much
more satisfying."

"I prefer to remember the happier times myself, professor," Harry replied.

The aged wizard peered at her through his rimmed glasses. "I hope that your times here have
been more good than bad."

"I've had many happy times here," Harry assured him.

"I am very glad to hear that. You have grown into a fine young man, Harry, and I am sure
that you will go far in life."

"Thank you, professor," Harry said a little choked up.

Dumbledore got to his feet and dusted his robes off. "And I understand that congratulations
to you and Miss Granger are in order."

Harry flushed a little. "Er, thanks. I'm surprised that you know about it. Hermione and
I have been together for barely more than a day."

There was a twinkle in the old man's eyes. "As it is rumored by the students, I see
many things in this castle though perhaps I do not see some things as clearly as you at the
moment." He winked then exited through the opening

Harry sat frozen in his seat, not knowing how to interpret that last statement. Then he shook
his head ruefully. "I will never understand that man."

"And why should you? He's the most powerful wizard in the world, and you're just
regular Harry Potter," Hermione teased, sticking her head between the drapes.

Harry chuckled. "I never thought that I would ever hear anyone call me
'regular.'"

"Harry, that's what I like about you. You know I don't care about your fame or
money." She paused and put a finger to her lip. "Though I must admit that those are
definite pluses."

"Hermione!" Harry laughed. He exited his booth and placed an arm around her and drew
her close to him.

"Ah, look at the lovebirds."

"Yeah, sickening, isn't it?"

Harry looked to his right with both hope and dread in his heart.

Fred and George walked up to them carrying a long, heavy bag between the two of them. They
followed Harry and Hermione back into the private area.

"Guys, that better be my cure," Harry warned. "I'm still peeved at
you."

Fred put a hand over his heart and stumbled back. "I'm hurt! We always had your best
interests in mind. Did we not get your mind off your speech like you asked? Did we not set forth a
chain of events that got you a girlfriend? And though I understand that you came to some physical
harm, did you not live out most guys' fantasies of seeing women in their underwear? Is that how
you speak to two friends who have brought you so much happiness?"

Harry stared at the redhead, unsure what to say.

Hermione giggled. She said, "How long did it take you come up with that bull,
Fred?"

Fred shrugged. "Let's just say that I'm glad you guys got together when you did
because my original apology reeked."

"*That* was an apology?" Harry sputtered.

"And I'm glad you accept it," George cut in smoothly. "Now, to the matter at
hand. We have found a method of reversing the effects of the dust. Behold!"

The drama of the moment was a little lost by the mechanics of untying and pulling off the bag,
but within moments, Harry saw what appeared to be an old-fashioned shutter camera on a tripod.

Harry looked at the machine nervously. "If this involves stealing my soul in any way,
I'm out of here."

George waved his hand dismissively. "Don't be silly. The process is really quite
simple. All this does to the spell on you is reverse its polarity."

"And what does that mean?"

"No idea, but it certainly sounds exciting."

"George!" Harry yelled.

Hermione gave the twins a stern look. "We can joke and have fun *after* we fix Harry,
okay? So will this rid him of his problem or not?"

Fred scratched his head. "Well, yeah... Okay, here we go." He pushed a button on the
camera.

FLASH!

Harry blinked his tearing eyes to make the spots go away. He looked immediately over at Hermione
and he smiled widely. He said to Hermione, "You look fantastic."

She turned away with a light blush.

Hermione really did look great. She was wearing a blue dress, an off-the-shoulder style that was
both graceful and elegant. Part of him was a little disappointed, but he decided not to mention
that.

Harry quickly stuck his head outside and glanced over the rest of the Great Hall, confirming
that everyone was now appropriately dressed in his eyes. Everything appeared normal.

Then he felt a breeze.

Harry put a hand to his head. "Please tell me I'm not standing here just in my
boxers."

Hermione stared quizzically at him. "What are you talking about?"

Harry stuck out his bare arms. "Look!"

A look of comprehension came over Fred's face. "Oh... there was only a five percent
chance of this happening... Harry, you may be missing your clothes but to the rest of us you appear
fully clothed."

Harry glanced down at his uncovered stomach skeptically.

Catching his look, George said, "Well, of course the illusion wouldn't affect
*you*."

Harry glared at the twins. "This story sounds suspiciously familiar..."

Hermione giggled. "Emperor's new clothes, indeed."

Harry sighed. "And when will *this* wear off?"

"Now that's an interesting question-"

"Fred!"

"Kidding, kidding! An hour should do it."

So for the next hour, Harry walked around feeling incredibly foolish as he greeted people who
entered the Great Hall. It didn't help that Hermione kept breaking down laughing every time she
glanced at him.

It was with great relief when his clothes finally rematerialized around him. This relief was
short-lived since Dumbledore told him it was time for him to make his opening speech.

Harry was gripped by sheer terror until Hermione grabbed his hand and turned him toward her. She
said, "Calm down, Harry. You're going to do great."

"And how do you know that?" Harry whispered frantically.

Hermione stared deep into his eyes. "Because I know you, silly. You have never failed to
rise to the occasion when you had to do so. That's one of the things I like so much about
you."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. It was a light, chaste kiss, but it was one
that promised many more to come and make his heart go wild.

"Go get them."

Harry didn't know he made it from his booth to behind the podium on stage. The intervening
walk had been made in a daze with him absently touching his lips. But the hush that came about when
applause stopped broke him out of his thoughts.

He glanced out at the large crowd of people that were there to hear him make it official that
the most evil wizard of the century was finally, irreversibly dead. He looked over at the Weasleys,
his teachers, members of the D.A., and his best friends.

His last days at Hogwarts had been long and crazy, but perhaps that was fitting for a place
where anything could happen.

*Picture the audience in their underwear*

Harry smiled to himself. He didn't need to do that.

He looked at the only audience member that really mattered. Hermione smiled at him
encouragingly.

No, he didn't need to do that that. He just needed to picture her.

Harry Potter cleared his throat and then he began to speak.

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