The Worst Laid Plans

Amethyst and Goldy

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 08/09/2005
Last Updated: 13/09/2005
Status: completed

Thanks to the lethal combination of Snape and a powerful potion, poor Hermione has been forced to reveal her dearest secret in class. What's that, you say? Repercussions? Yes, definitely.

Chapters

1. One

2. Dos

3. Trois

4. Four

5. Cinco

6. Six

1. One

The Worst Laid Plans

Disclaimer: You know very well that none of us own anything remotely Harry Potter related, save action figures and numerous posters, which were all purchased quite legally. We hope.

A/N: Here we are with another collaboration written for the fanfict00bs community on livejournal. We hope you enjoy the nice, clean, HBP-free environment.

Chapter One

“This potion, known as the Revelator, will force the one who consumes it to reveal a particular secret on command, provided that the secret is not already guarded by other spells. To show you exactly how this works, we will have a demonstration.” Snape paused, eyeing the room. Hermione watched as his eyes drifted up the Gryffindor half of the room, past Parvati and Lavender, past Harry…and landed on her.

“Miss Granger. Surely you would enjoy a firsthand learning experience.”

Knowing resistance was, as it usually was with Snape, futile, she stood up and went to the front of the room, racking her brain for all the secrets he could possibly force her to reveal.

Oh, please, please, don't let him ask anything that's going to get us in trouble, Hermione thought with a glance at Harry. They'd broken so many rules, and it might not matter if they were for the right reasons - it definitely didn't matter as far as Snape was concerned.

She knew he'd never be stupid enough to ask anything that would give away information about the Order or the DA. No…he'd probably ask something more personal.

Hermione's palms began to sweat as she reached the front of the room and took the vial of potion Snape held out to her. This…this would be disastrous, no matter what he asked.

“Go on, Miss Granger. Drink the potion.”

She took one hesitant look at the dark red liquid before downing it in one gulp. It was tasteless, but she could feel it, warm as it slid down her throat. Hermione waited to feel the effects, but there was nothing.

“All right, class. What shall we ask Miss Granger?”

The Slytherins made a few obscene suggestions that Snape, thankfully, had to ignore. Harry valiantly attempted to spare her, but his questions were simply ridiculous - “Have her say what her favorite book is!” and other such things. It was finally Lavender who asked the fateful question…and it was by far the last question Hermione wanted to answer in that room with those people.

“Make her tell us who she fancies!”

An evil little smirk formed on Snape's face, and Hermione knew she was doomed. Of course, he'd simply love to humiliate her like this… “Yes, that's harmless enough. Miss Granger, who do you fancy?”

Hermione attempted to keep her mouth clamped shut. Gods, she couldn't say it! Not - not here, not in front of him!

But it was no use. Her mouth opened on its own volition, and out it came, against her will.

“Harry Potter.”

A great roar of laughter came from the Slytherins. Hermione saw Malfoy doubled over with Crabbe and Goyle laughing like hyenas on either side of him, and Pansy was letting out her own hideous, shrieking form of laughter.

Lavender and Parvati had let out a loud, collective gasp as soon as she'd said it, clearly not expecting that particular answer. Their faces were mirrors of each other, both wide-eyed and with their mouths hanging open in shock.

Hermione stood there at the front of the room shaking, terrified to look at him - oh, how would he react? If he was embarrassed or disgusted, she couldn't bear to see it. But she had to look, didn't she? She had to see…had to find out, now that it was out for the world to know.

She tore her eyes away from the others, feeling her face grow hotter as her gaze finally landed upon Harry.

He was sitting bolt upright in his seat, mouth hanging open wide enough to gather flies, and his face had gone quite pale - paler than usual. He didn't look disgusted, but he didn't look happy, either - there was only shock.

Oh - oh, no, everything's ruined!

And with that thought, Hermione did the only thing she felt she could conceivably do just then.

She cut and ran.

~

Harry had a very hard time getting through the rest of Potions that day. The worst part was that he didn't have Hermione to tell him when he was about to do something completely incorrect. The problem wasn't helped any by the Slytherins puckering their lips and making kissing noises at him, or by Snape's great annoyance that anyone should ever encourage Harry's ego by doing something as absurd as fancying him. Then again, Harry had to admit that it did seem absurd. Why on earth would Hermione fancy someone like him?

After losing 50 points for Gryffindor, nearly pummeling Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson both, and creating a few minor explosions in his cauldron, he finally stumbled out of the room alive. Ignoring Malfoy's question as to whether he was off to “snuggle with the Mudblood,” Harry set off to do just that - er, well, not the snuggling bit, but he had every intention of finding Hermione and setting things right. How he was going to go about that was as yet unknown to him.

Skipping lunch, he went straight up to his dormitory to find the Marauder's Map. Several minutes of searching Hermione's usual haunts provided nothing. Eventually he found her, huddled in the middle stall in the first floor girls' lavatory. A strong sense of déjà vu overcame Harry as he headed down there, remembering the first time Hermione had cried in that very toilet. Harry sighed to himself. Shame there wasn't a troll this time, really. Trolls were much easier to handle than crying girls. Trolls were very simple, in fact - levitate their club and bonk them on the head, and it would be lights out for Mr. Troll.

Girls, though…girls were another matter. They had much more complex thought patterns than trolls - patterns that Harry definitely couldn't follow. Really, one minute they'd be perfectly fine, then they'd be crying about their dead boyfriends, and then they'd be kissing you, and without warning, they'd be crying again and yelling at you for daring to have a female friend!

…Suffice to say, Harry hadn't had very good experiences with crying girls.

All too soon, he found himself standing outside the bathroom. With a glance in either direction to check for anyone that might see, Harry went bravely where no intelligent boy had ever gone before.

“Hermione?”

Her sniffles stopped abruptly.

“Hermione, will you come out, please?”

“Absolutely not,” she said miserably through the door. “There's no way I can look you in the eye right now.”

Harry frowned. “Hermione, you're going to have to speak to me eventually.”

There was a moment of silence, and then she hesitantly peeked out. “I've never been so embarrassed in my life,” she said. “And - and I'm not sure if I even want to talk about it. I just want to forget it ever happened.”

“Hermione -“

She opened the door fully now as she interrupted him. “Look, you don't have to say it. I know you don't feel the same way. I - I can handle that. I'm used to it by now, really. If - if you think it would be too awkward for us to stay friends now, I - I'll understand,” she said, choking slightly as her sniffles returned.

“What?” Harry said, baffled. Girls…can't they ever make any sense? “Why would it be too awkward for us to stay friends?”

Hermione stared at him in utter disbelief. “Did you not hear what I said in Potions? I fancy you, Harry. That's going to make things a little…well, weird.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. He hadn't thought much about what she'd said, really. He supposed it might have meant more if Harry could imagine anyone fancying him, let alone Hermione…but now that he did think about it, he supposed it was rather weird.

Hermione…fancied him. So…she wanted to date him? Was that what it meant? …Cor, did she want to kiss him? Harry caught himself staring at her lips and quickly looked away.

All right, so things would be very weird.

“I - er - well, yeah, it might be a little awkward for awhile,” said Harry, “but you're - you're my best friend. As long as you still want to be friends with me, I don't see why we can't manage it.”

Harry watched Hermione's bottom lip tremble for approximately two seconds before she reacted forcefully by exclaiming, “Oh, Harry!” and throwing herself onto him. He stumbled backward as her weight hit him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and he clumsily patted her back.

“I'm so glad you feel that way,” she said - in a very muffled way, as her face was buried in his shoulder. “I was so afraid you wouldn't want to be friends with me anymore after you knew, and it would have been just awful if I'd lost you…”

Harry ran a hand over her hair - crying girls found that soothing, didn't they, to have their hair smoothed down? He didn't quite understand it, but he'd seen it done before, and if it worked…

“It's all right, Hermione. We'll always be friends.”

Hermione gave one last hearty sniff and pulled away from him, nodding. “Right. Thank you, Harry, for being so good about this.” She wiped at her face and turned away from him, looking suddenly embarrassed. “Um. We should probably get out of the bathroom before someone comes in and gets the wrong idea.”

“Er, right,” Harry said, though he was a little confused as to what the wrong idea would be just now, and followed her out.

~

Ron was through his first sandwich at lunch and moving on to a second when he noticed that something was very, very wrong.

Instead of Harry or Hermione sitting beside him, he found Luna Lovegood staring avidly at him. He felt his face growing hot under her scrutiny - what on earth was she doing at the Gryffindor table, anyway? - and looked across the table to find Lavender and Parvati taking the empty seats.

Not only were his friends missing, but Malfoy also seemed to be up to something. He and Pansy were doing a rather odd reenactment of something that involved some odd kissing faces and swooning. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what had brought that on. Probably something in Potions…maybe that was the reason Harry and Hermione - wait, no, Harry and Hermione wouldn't have anything to do with kissing and swooning…

“Where are Harry and Hermione?” he asked nobody in particular, beginning to become very worried.

Lavender and Parvati exchanged uncomfortable glances. “They're probably somewhere together,” said Parvati. “Harry probably went looking for her after Potions.”

Ron frowned, trying to ignore that Luna Lovegood was still staring at him. “Why would he have to look for her?”

“Because Hermione ran out in the middle of Potions,” Parvati explained.

“…She what?”

Lavender sighed. “Snape made Hermione take a potion that forces a person to reveal a secret. Goodness…if I'd known, I never would have suggested…I feel terrible about it, I felt sure she would say Viktor Krum or - I don't know, Terry Boot or someone brainy like that! Who would have thought?”

“Wait, wait, I'm lost,” Ron interrupted. “What on earth did Hermione say?”

Lavender looked very guilty indeed. “Well, Snape asked the class what we should ask her to reveal, and I suggested he make her say who she fancies…”

Ron felt his stomach drop. “She - she didn't say me?”

Parvati shook her head somberly. “I'm sorry, Ron. Not you.”

“B-but - she always seemed to like it when we argued, and - and she liked the perfume I got her for Christmas last year!”

Lavender raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You got her perfume? Are you sure she liked it?”

“Sure!” Ron said. “All girls like stuff like that, don't they? She said it was `really unusual.'”

Parvati and Lavender simultaneously broke into sniggers. “Oh, Ron, you don't understand girls at all! That didn't mean she liked the perfume, it meant she thought it was awful and had to find a tactful thing to say about it!”

Ron ignored Luna's remark (“I like unusual perfumes.”) and scowled as a very unpleasant, defeated feeling came over him. “So…she doesn't like me that way? Not at all?”

“No, sorry,” Parvati said, wearing an uncharacteristically sympathetic expression.

Ron looked sadly down at his unfinished sandwich and pushed the plate aside. Suddenly, he didn't feel very hungry. “So…who does she fancy?”

Lavender and Parvati both squirmed slightly. “Oh - oh, Ron, it's awful to have to tell you this, but - but it's…Harry.”

“WHAT?!”

The entire hall looked up at his shout. Ron ducked his head sheepishly as his face turned an impressive shade of red. “Harry? She likes Harry?” Ron said, more quietly.

Before Parvati and Lavender could begin to reply, Luna cut in.

“Of course she does. Why are you all surprised?”

The other three gaped at her. “You knew?”

“Isn't it obvious?” she said, her face showing no change of expression. “He's all she ever talks about.”

“Sure he isn't,” Ron said. “She also talks about…homework. And…er…books! And house-elves, and…er, knitting, sometimes.”

To everyone's surprise, Luna rolled her eyes in a disturbingly Hermione-like manner. “That stuff doesn't matter. He's the only boy she talks about.”

Ron opened his mouth to argue, and then shut it abruptly as the painful realization hit him - Luna, for once, was right about something.

“Hmmph.”

“I suppose we should have seen it all along,” said Parvati. “Poor girl, I don't think he likes her back.”

A few moments of tense silence followed as everyone went back to their lunch, and then…

“We should help her!”

“What are you talking about, Lav? How can we help her?”

“Well, look at it this way,” Lavender said. “Harry's the same way about Hermione - she's the only girl he ever talks about. I bet he fancies her, too - but he doesn't know it.”

“That's just silly,” Parvati said. “How could he not know it?”

“I dunno,” said Ron, contemplating matters. “She could be right. I mean, Harry can be a right oblivious git when he sets his mind to it.”

“So…you think we should try to get Harry to figure it out?”

“I think that's exactly what we need to do.”

To be continued very soon

-->

2. Dos

She smiled at Harry over the top of her parchment, her stomach fluttering when he gave her a strained smile in return. Hurriedly, they returned to their work, ignoring the cloak of awkwardness around them.

Hermione felt tears prick at her eyes and she quickly pulled her parchment over her face.

After her horrid admission in Potions, Hermione had simply been relieved she and Harry were still friends. It wasn’t until afterwards that it had begun to sink in that Harry did not return her feelings. And probably never would.

Her secret was out and everyone knew – and though Harry had been sweetly understanding about it, her hurt was a constant, aching presence. Perhaps if he rejected her outright or mocked her feelings—then she could begin to move on. But she knew he wouldn’t, it wasn’t who Harry was.

She desperately wanted to talk to Harry about it, but didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. Oh, but she’d give anything to dispel the barrier between them—anything at all. Instead she found herself pulling away—speaking to him only when he addressed her first, sitting next to Ron at mealtimes, spending more time in the library.

She found herself studying Cho, wondering what it was about the elder girl that made her catch Harry’s fancy. What was it Cho had that she hadn’t? Looks, athleticism?

Stupid, she thought to herself. It was such a waste of time, dwelling on those kinds of thoughts. Things were what they were. She couldn’t change them by being jealous of Cho.

Hermione missed Harry—her best friend, who she nagged without worry, who she loved in secret. Yet it was easier this way. If she pulled far enough away, maybe the hurt would stop.

A shadow fell across her parchment and she glanced up, startled to find Seamus Finnigan staring down at her.

“Uh, hello,” she said nervously. She didn’t frequently speak with Seamus or Dean. “Do you… are you looking for help on the Potions essay?”

“Nah,” Seamus said, smiling easily. “Done.”

Harry had moved his essay off to the side. Hermione could tell he was listening carefully.

“I was wondering if you’d fancy going to Hogsmeade next weekend,” Seamus said. “How about it?”

Hermione glanced around her to make certain Seamus was really addressing her.

“Wha—uh—you mean with you?” Hermione flushed. “That is, you want me to go to Hogsmeade with you?”

Harry stiffened and she felt her gaze shift to him. Seamus determinedly pretended he was not there.

“Naturally,” said Seamus. “How about it?”

“Uh…” Hermione cast about in her mind for an appropriate reply. Seamus was a perfectly nice boy, but surely he, along with the rest of the school, knew how she felt about Harry.

Harry was no longer attempting to conceal his interest in her answer. His eyes were fixed on her face, something that was making her most uncomfortable.

“I… uh… yes,” she finally said, her smile forced and wavering. “I think that would be lovely.”

Seamus flashed her a grin. “Great. I’ll see you then.”

He sauntered off and Hermione stared after him, bemused. She heard Harry clear his throat.

“You’re going out with Seamus?”

“It would appear so,” Hermione said with forced nonchalance.

Harry looked troubled. “I didn’t know he fancied you.”

“Oh, well…”

“And it was a bit rude, don’t you reckon, for him to ask you out while I was sitting here?”

“I… I don’t think—”

“You know how Seamus is, Hermione. He’s with a new girl every week! I thought you were better than that.”

“Better than—what, excuse me?”

“You know…” Harry leaned closer. “He’s just hoping you’ll—”

“Harry!” she hissed. “Why is it so difficult for you to imagine that someone could fancy me?”

Harry sat back, frowning. Neither of them missed her underlying message.

“I’m just trying—”

“Don’t bother,” she snapped, gathering her stuff together. “It’s not worth it.”

***

“Okay,” Lavender said, surveying her fellow Gryffindors. “This is the plan.” She whirled around. “Seamus?”

“Yeah?”

“You will take Hermione out this weekend. She will have a nice time.” Lavender paused for affect. “Then, after she’s relaxed, you will do what you do best. Take advantage of her.”

Seamus sat up. “What?

“Not too much, mind you,” Lavender said quickly. “Just… something that would get her knickers all in a twist. You’re an imaginative boy. Improvise.”

“It’s perfect, you see,” Parvati said. “Hermione will turn to her best friend—Harry—who will be filled with righteous, protective anger on her behalf.”

Seamus made an odd chocking noise. “We never agreed on that!”

“You don’t wanna mess with Harry, man,” Dean said. “Bad idea.”

Seamus nodded fervently. “Besides, I don’t much want to upset Hermione either. I don’t have anything against her.”

A manic glint came into Lavender’s eyes. “Are we in this together or not? If anything will wake that git up, it’ll be his protective, hero-complex side.”

***

Harry was in a foul mood.

The Three Broomsticks was packed to explosion. The loud babble of voices was giving him a headache.

In being honest with himself, he knew his bad temper caused by Hermione’s date with Seamus. It bewildered him that she could express feelings for him one moment and go off with Seamus the next. It bothered him to know he’d been tossed over that quickly—obviously, her feelings couldn’t have run very deeply….

He also felt regret—he hadn’t had time to process his own feelings for Hermione and it hurt him deeply to see her move on with such apparent ease.

This last week, watching her pull away, feeling her abandonment in the lack of attention she paid him—it had left him feeling like he was hanging on to her by a thread, helpless as it slipped out of his fingertips.

***

When Seamus burst into the Three Broomsticks, Harry’s confusion was seized by worry. He jumped up from the table, startling both Ron and Neville.

Seamus was pale as he hobbled along the wall, using it to support himself. There was a bruise forming on his left cheekbone.

Harry’s hand clenched on his wand and he hurried to Seamus. His mind was racing. Oh god what’s happened where’s Hermione hope she’s alright let her be okay…

He was only dimly aware of reaching Seamus’ side. Was that Ron behind him? And Lavender, Parvati and Dean?

“What happened?” Harry chocked out.

Seamus seemed to shrink under Harry’s stare.

“I—uh—buh—”

Harry took a step closer, willing his mind to think straight—to focus.

“Where’s Hermione?”

“I…” Seamus swallowed and sat down in the nearest booth. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. “She…”

“Seamus,” Harry said tightly. “If something happened to her, I swear I’ll—”

“She… she… well, she kicked me.” Seamus muttered, unable to look Harry in the eyes.

Harry stared. “She kicked you?”

“More like kneed me, actually,” Seamus said, casting his eyes downward. “And then she, er, she did this thing with her elbow…”

Seamus gestured to the bruise on his cheek.

“But… but… why?” Harry managed, aghast.

“Oh, you know…” Seamus said, voice a low whisper. “I…”

“You what?”

Seamus shifted and pressed a hand to his face. “I just… you know.…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t, er, I didn’t think she’d mind.”

Seamus tensed, prepared for the worst.

“Oh,” Harry said.

Seamus blinked. “That’s it?”

“No, that is not it,” a new voice growled. It was Ron. “You’re a dead man, Finnigan.”

Ron pushed past Harry and lunged, a wild look in his eyes. Harry grabbed his arm, giving a small grunt when Ron collided with his windpipe.

“Let go, Harry,” Ron snapped. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Come off it, Ron,” Harry said impatiently. “Look at him. Hermione got him right good.”

“Are you barking?” Ron said. “He—I mean… we can’t just let him get away with it, can we?”

“We’re not, Ron,” Harry said. “I don’t reckon Seamus is going to be able to walk properly for some time. Eh, Finnigan?”

A few people around them sniggered.

“Alright,” Harry said, dropping Ron’s arm. “I’m gonna go find her. She shouldn’t be walking around Hogsmeade alone.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No,” Harry said sharply. “Er… I mean, I reckon I should talk to her alone.”

He gave Ron a significant look. Ron shrugged and shot Seamus another glare.

“Git,” he muttered.

“Yeah, right,” Harry said vaguely, mind busy going over Hermione’s possible whereabouts. “See you later.”

He disappeared out the door, leaving Lavender and Parvati staring sullenly after him.

***

Hermione stomped angrily up the hill towards the Shrieking Shack, seething. How dare he! Sticking his tongue into her mouth like she was some common tramp!

It was a mild consolation that she could still remember her satisfaction in the way Seamus’ face crumpled when her knee collided with his groin.

She worried her bottom lip raw as she went up the hill, the weak April sun causing her to squint. Oh, how she wished she could keep going until it was all behind her! She couldn’t bear having to go back and face Seamus now…

And Harry, she added with a sigh. And Harry.

***

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she failed to notice Crabbe and Goyle until she was nearly on top of them. Thankfully, Malfoy was nowhere to be found—leaving the muscle without the brains.

“Well, if isn’t Granger,” Crabbe said, elbowing Goyle. “All alone.”

“Yeah, where are your boyfriends, Granger?” Goyle said. “Oh, right! Potty can’t stand the sight of you!”

They both laughed and Hermione inwardly bristled, frustrated that such an elementary insult could bother her. She checked the insides of her robes for her wand, horror descending on her in waves when she couldn’t find it. It must’ve slipped out during her short scuffle with Seamus.

Crabbe and Goyle gave her wide, excited looks and Hermione realized they too understood she had nothing to defend herself with.

With Seamus, Hermione had been secure in the knowledge that he’d never intentionally hurt her. She had no such assurance from Crabbe and Goyle.

Hermione took a step backwards, eyes fixed on their faces.

My wand, I need to find my wand—oh, why did I have to come here! The Shrieking Shack! Honestly!

Another step back. They stood silent, watching her. It probably takes them that long to think. Another step.

Hermione turned around, prepared to run when her foot caught on a tree root and she went down. Pain shot up from her ankle and bits of dirt and rocks clung to her palms.

She looked up just as two hands clamped around her arms, hauling her to her feet. Her ankle gave a painful throb and she found herself eye to eye with Gregory Goyle.

Trapped without her wand, alone with two hostile classmates, her ankle in pain, Hermione had a screaming, desperate urge for Harry. That’s what he does, she thought desperately. He saves people. I need him now. Harry, please…

She closed her eyes, straining to hear his voice. Crabbe’s fingers dug into her arms. The wind rustled through the trees and Goyle’s breath puffed heavily on her face.

Harry didn’t come.

“Let got of me,” Hermione said, twisting.

Crabbe shook her and Hermione’s teeth gnashed together.

“Let. GO.”

“Uh… no,” Goyle said.

He frowned, staring at her like he didn’t much know what to do with her now that he had her.

Hermione used his distraction to her advantage. She swung her knee up towards Goyle’s midsection and stomped on Crabbe’s foot with her other leg.

Crabbe swore and shoved her away while Goyle doubled over, moaning.

On her injured ankle, Hermione immediately lost her balance. She had enough time to register the rock rushing towards her face before her forehead crashed into it. A muffled moan escaped her throat and a sick, nauseous feeling pooled in her stomach.

She tried to move and couldn’t. Something wet and sticky trickled past her nose.

“Uh—she isn’t moving, Crabbe.”

“She dead?”

“I dunno.”

Hermione could hear them shuffling behind her. She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness passed over her.

“What do we do if she’s dead?”

“Dunno.”

“Could be trouble.”

“She’s not dead.”

“She looks dead. Dumbledore won’t like it much if she’s dead.”

“It’s not our fault. She started it.”

“She’s still not moving.”

“We were only supposed to rough her up some—not kill her.”

“Yeah—yeah, it’s not our fault.”

“There isn’t nobody around.”

“Maybe if we just…”

“Yeah… okay...”

They kicked up dust in their haste to get away. For a moment, there was blessed silence. Hermione let her mind drift. Exhaustion clouded her brain, making her arms and legs feel heavy. Darkness beckoned to her. How easy it would be to slip away, lost to the world…

“Hermione!”

Her eyes felt scratchy when she opened them. Her head ached. Her tongue was swollen and thick.

“Hermione! Hermione—oh, my god—Hermione!”

That’s Harry, she thought. He sounds worried.

She struggled to move. The light hurt her eyes, causing tears to well.

“Hermione—” he dropped to his knees beside her, face lined with anxiety.

“I’m alright,” she whispered, trying to sit up. She pressed her hand to her forehead. If only the world would stop spinning…

“Hermione.” His voice was shaking. He reached for her hand and pulled it towards him. It was smeared with red paint.

No, not red paint, she thought fuzzily. That’s blood. My blood.

Harry’s fingers clenched on her wrist.

“Who—” he managed. He took a breath and his voice was harsh when he spoke. “Was it… was it Seamus?”

Hermione shook her head, the effort causing dark spots to dance in front of her eyes.

“Crabbe and Goyle,” she croaked.

“Grabbe and Goyle…” he trailed off and jumped up. She tried to follow, getting as far as her knees. “I’ll kill them.”

He looked ready to dash off. On instinct, Hermione lunged, catching the end of his robes in her fingertips.

“Harry!” she said. “I need… help…”

She let go, sinking back down to the ground. Harry’s murderous rage evaporated and he dropped down next to her.

“What do I…” he swallowed. “What can I do?” Harry looked around. “I should get… someone. A professor. You need Madam Pomfrey.”

“Don’t…” Hermione grit her teeth against the pain. “Don’t leave me alone. Please.”

Harry surveyed her, eyes wide. He nodded.

“Can you walk?”

She shrugged her shoulders, it was too hard to talk.

“Come on,” he said. He helped her up, slipping an arm around her waist. She leaned against him, her feet heavy.

“I hurt…” Hermione bit her lip. Stay awake. “I hurt my ankle.”

“Your ankle too?” Harry said. She felt him stiffen. “Son of a bitch.”

She’s never heard him swear before. Her head lolled back on his shoulder. Were they moving? She could scarcely feel the ground beneath her feet.

“Harry…” she whispered. “I don’t wanna get blood all over you.”

“I’ll risk it. Keep moving, Hermione.”

“I knew you’d come,” she said faintly. “That’s what you do. You—save—people.”

“I’m sorry. They should never have—”

“S’okay. I lost my wand, Harry. Rather stupid of me, don’t you think?”

“You lost your wand?”

“Yes, I…” Hermione forced herself to concentrate. Her voice sounded small. “It must’ve fallen out earlier.”

“I’ll get it back for you,” Harry said. His arm tightened around her. He felt strong and hard and masculine.

“Thanks, Harry,” she whispered. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

She could have sworn she felt his lips brush against the side of her head. If only she wasn’t so dizzy—then she could know for sure.

“Me too.” He waited a moment. “I’m just relieved you’re okay, Hermione. I thought… well, it doesn’t matter. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine.”

She might have made some kind of response there, but she wasn’t sure. Her vision darkened. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, she didn’t want him to have to carry her all the way back to the castle, but it was too hard to stay awake. Too hard.

3. Trois

Chapter Three

Harry sat staring at her pale face - much too pale - feeling restless and desperate and itching for revenge.

The only thing keeping him from throwing caution to the wind and cursing Crabbe and Goyle within an inch of their lives was the necessity of being there when Hermione awoke. According to Madame Pomfrey, the extent of the damage could only be seen once she woke…if she woke. Brain injuries were tricky like that, evidently.

Harry didn't know what he'd do with himself if she didn't come around soon.

He'd had to carry her through Hogsmeade, up the road to Hogwarts, never moving fast enough. He was terrified at the amount of blood she'd been losing. If she'd died…oh, God, if she'd died…

Harry had nearly killed his fellow Gryffindors for hindering his progress. He'd stopped long enough to tell them there was no time to explain and that they had to find her wand before he'd set off at a run, not stopping to speak or think or breathe until Hermione was in a bed in the Hospital Wing with Madame Pomfrey muttering charms over her.

McGonagall had burst in not long after, demanding to know what had transpired. Harry had told her what he could, hoping her punishment for them would be severe enough that they wouldn't need hexing when the Head of Gryffindor was done with them.

And though he'd never been so scared before in his life when he'd found her lying on the ground with blood pooling around her head, the waiting was worse. Waiting and watching and dreading and hoping all at once…

If only he'd been there. If only he'd moved more quickly, gotten to her sooner…. If only the awkwardness he'd caused between them hadn't urged her to go to Hogsmeade with Seamus…. If only he'd acted on his first instinct and told Seamus he'd hex him into oblivion if he dared to touch Hermione….

Harry sighed to himself. If only he'd been willing to accept that he was jealous and dealt with it like a normal person, she might have been safe with him in the Three Broomsticks.

Of course, admitting he'd been jealous to her was out of the question. Hermione had it hard enough just being who she was - Muggle-born, smartest in the class, his best friend. That was enough to make her plenty of enemies, as today had proven. He didn't need to give them all another reason to harm her - especially when she'd already been hurt because of him, too many times.

But he wasn't going to leave her unprotected ever again. If he had to drive her absolutely insane with his presence, he'd be sure he was there to keep anything from happening to her. That was the only way he could be sure…

Harry spent the rest of the day, and the following night, in the Hospital Wing. Visitors came and went - Ron, very distraught; a very nervous and apologetic Seamus; Lavender and Parvati, looking guilty and uncomfortable; Luna, who acted the same as she always did.

Harry had a feeling something odd was going on, as Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati had never cared much about what happened to Hermione before. What had happened to day…it seemed as though they knew something about it that they weren't letting on.

When visiting hours ended, Madame Pomfrey tried to shoo him out, but with sheer stubbornness and a little help from McGonagall, Harry was allowed to stay.

The hours ticked by. Hermione never moved so much as an eyelash. Against his will, Harry felt himself dozing off in the flickering torchlight of the dark room…

~

It was still quite dark, wherever she was. Why was it so dark? Harry had found her…it should have been bright again…she should be all right…

But wait…there was light. Jumping light, like that from a fire.

Hermione's vision began to clear and she realized she was staring up at a ceiling. Rolling her head to the left, she found herself looking down a long row of empty beds, with torches along the wall here and there to keep the room from becoming completely dark. So she was in the Hospital Wing, then.

Lolling her head back to the left, she expected to find much the same thing. Instead, she found Harry.

He was slumped down in what had to be the most uncomfortable wooden chair ever. His head had dropped against the back of it in slumber. There was a trickle of drool running from the corner of his mouth and he was snoring faintly.

It was, quite possibly, the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

And he was here. She'd expected…well, she hadn't had time to expect much at all, but with their distance of late, she would have expected to wake up alone, perhaps not seeing him until she was healed and free to go.

But he'd stayed with her, and she couldn't help smiling. She hadn't ruined things…she hadn't ruined them at all.

Hermione lay watching him for awhile. She knew she probably shouldn't. It was studying him like this that had gotten her in trouble in the first place. But there was something riveting about watching him in sleep…something terribly intimate about seeing something of him that hopefully few other women would get to see…

Harry suddenly gave a great jerk in his sleep and opened his eyes - did he always wake like that? He looked around as if trying to figure out where he was, and then his eyes fell on her. He jumped.

“Hermione!”

She smiled. “Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

Hermione attempted a shrug. “Physically, much better. Emotionally, I'm feeling quite embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“Harry…I went up to the Shrieking Shack, of all places, alone, after losing my wand. I could have run away before they even reacted, but instead I tripped and hurt my ankle. When they grabbed me, I fought them off, and instead of getting away, I fell over and hit my head on a rock. I'm not sure Crabbe and Goyle would have even managed to figure out a way to hurt me if I hadn't done it so well myself.”

“You shouldn't have ever needed to get away in the first place,” Harry said with a scowl.

“No, but that's the way the world is. No one can ever be entirely safe.”

She watched as he considered his hands for a moment. “That's not good enough.”

Hermione almost rolled her eyes. “Harry, don't start that again.”

Harry looked up and asked bemusedly, “Start what?”

“Blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong. I got myself into a stupid situation and couldn't get myself back out. That's not your fault. And you found me. Who knows what might have happened if you hadn't?”

It was easy to see that her words made no impact upon him whatsoever, but he wasn't arguing, at least.

“So…has Madame Pomfrey said when I'll be released?”

Harry paled slightly. “Er…no. She wasn't sure what state you'd be in when you woke up.”

“Oh.” She could see in his expression how worried he'd been and was touched by it, though she didn't dare comment on it. Those types of personal comments led the way to awkwardness and embarrassment - or at least, they did with Harry these days.

“I should go wake Madame Pomfrey,” Harry said, jumping from his chair with rather alarming speed. “She'll have my head on a platter if she finds out you were awake and I didn't tell her.”

Hermione nodded and listened to his footsteps fade. Just a minute or two later, she heard them returning, echoed by Madame Pomfrey's.

“Mr. Potter, perhaps now you'll consent to going back to Gryffindor Tower?” she said snappishly as she began bustling about with spells and potions.

“I was hoping that perhaps I could stay until you were done…until you knew how she was,” Harry said in a timid manner that Hermione felt sure had to be deliberate. Harry hadn't said much of anything genuinely timidly since he was eleven. Nevertheless, she appreciated the sentiment that went along with his subtle manipulation of the Healer.

“Very well,” she said, a little less harshly. “But after that, you really must get to your own bed.”

Harry didn't argue as she went about her work.

“Miss Granger. You're well aware of who you are and where you are?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what happened to you yesterday?”

“I was at Hogsmeade. I went up to the Shrieking Shack alone, ran into Crabbe and Goyle, and tripped. Then they picked me up and I beat them off, fell, and hit my head.” Hermione tried not to blush at the memory…how stupid she'd been.

“Good…your memory seems to be unharmed.”

Madame Pomfrey continued muttering charms, and Hermione remained silent. She cast a surreptitious glance at Harry. He was watching everything with more focus than he'd ever shown in class, which wasn't exactly saying a lot, but it was saying something.

“Well, I don't see any signs of long-lasting damage,” she finally said, stepping back with a final flick of her wand. “But I do want to keep you a bit longer.”

“How much longer?” Hermione questioned. “I will be able to go back to class on Monday, won't I?”

“I'll keep you one more day,” said Madame Pomfrey, rolling her eyes. “So, yes, you'll be able to return to class on Monday. Honestly…I haven't seen a student so intent on her studies since Lily Evans - Potter, that is.”

Madame Pomfrey didn't notice the effect her statement had caused, but Hermione did - and Harry as well, by the way he was blushing. So he'd noticed the parallel right away, too, had he?

Hermione considered him carefully. Something had changed with Harry…something about the way he was acting with her. It was still awkward and a bit distant, but not in the same way… Something had changed in that head of his, and she wanted to know what it was.

“Well, Mr. Potter, are you satisfied now? Go on, get out - it's much too late for you to be in here.”

Hermione watched him go with a newfound curiosity. She would most definitely get to the bottom of this.

~

“I've got a plan!”

“What is it, Draco?” Pansy asked, noting Draco's usual giddiness at having plotted something.

“I know how we can make Granger's life miserable for a day!”

“How's that?” Tormenting Granger…now that was putting his plotting skills, however mediocre, to good use.

“We glue her to Potter!”

“…What?”

“In Potions tomorrow! We glue their hands together. It'll take old Pomfrey at least a day to make a removal potion, and you know Snape won't help her. They'll be stuck like that for who knows how long.”

“It sounds sort of lame, Draco.”

“You think that now - but what about when Potter has to take a piss?”

Pansy considered that thought for a moment. “Hey. That is a good plan.”

~

On Monday, things seemed to be more or less back to normal. Harry and Hermione went to potions after breakfast like perfectly platonic friends do and settled down at their usual table. They began Snape's excruciatingly tedious assignment (in Harry's view). Class went on as normal, with minimal taunting from Snape and the Slytherins. All seemed to be quite well.

Until, of course, Draco Malfoy ran over, poured something on Harry's hand, and shoved Hermione's hand into it.

“What did you just do?” Harry yelled, jumping out of his seat, only to find he'd dragged Hermione with him. He looked down to find her trying to pry her hand from his, but failing.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. He did not just do what I think he just did.

“What's the matter, Potter?” Snape asked almost gleefully, as if he knew he'd have an excuse to punish him.

“Malfoy glued our hands together.”

Snape made a not-so-subtle noise of amusement. “That's a very novice mistake to make, Potter, and I can't believe you'd blame it on Mr. Malfoy. Is it that hard for you to keep a girl that you have to resort to gluing her to you?”

It was only Hermione's desperate look that kept Harry from retorting angrily. As it was, he stood fuming as Snape smirked away.

“Well, go to the Hospital Wing. That'll be twenty points from Gryffindor, and you'll both fail the assignment due to incompletion.”

~

“What have you done to yourselves this time?” Madame Pomfrey asked when they arrived. Hermione was still in too much shock over failing an assignment to reply, so Harry explained.

“Glue…honestly,” she tutted, “Not even first years are that juvenile…”

She ran off to her office for a book, while Harry and Hermione waited, looking quite the gossip-worthy picture for anyone who might wander in.

“Well, it looks as though the reversal potion for that particular caliber of glue takes twenty-four hours to brew. I'm afraid you'll be stuck like that for awhile. You can go about the rest of your day like that, but you'll have to talk to Professor McGonagall about sleeping arrangements.”

Harry felt a lot of lively things squirming around in his stomach. Twenty-four hours, glued to Hermione?

Oh, this would not be good.

-->

4. Four

Harry was beginning to think that being glued to Hermione was the best luck he’d had in days. Ever since he’d decided on his plan to protect Hermione at all costs, he’d been mulling over the best way to do so without irritating her. He suspected Hermione would not react well if he announced his intention to become her own personal bodyguard.

Being glued together was the perfect cover. This way he could keep an eye on her without arousing her suspicions.

As usual, things went brilliantly until it came crashing down around him.

“Harry? I… uh… I need to pee.”

Hermione’s voice was a high-pitched squeak. Harry’s stomach seemed to clench and twist.

That’s how they found themselves outside the girl’s lavatories, Hermione fidgeting back and forth with her legs crossed.

“I am not going in there,” Harry declared. “Can’t we use the prefect’s bathroom?”

Hermione shook her head. “Can’t. Too far away.”

Harry swore.

Three second-year girls piled out of the lavatory, bursting into giggles when they saw them.

Harry sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Thankfully, there was no one else in the bathroom—yet, Harry reflected miserably. Hermione dragged him to the last stall, locking the door behind them.

“This is cozy,” Harry muttered.

Hermione shot him a look. “Just wait until it’s your turn.”

Harry—who hadn’t yet considered that, immediately felt mortified. His jaw dropped, but Hermione pushed him around, twisting both their arms in the process.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“So you’ll keep your back turned,” she said.

“Why can’t I just close my eyes?”

Hermione sniffed.

“You don’t trust me?”

Hermione sniffed again. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.” She sounded doubtful. “It’s that… I don’t know if I could… perform, so to speak, with you watching me.”

“Oh,” Harry said.

He heard Hermione shifting around behind him. His arm was really beginning to hurt.

“Are you done yet?”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m… I’m having trouble.”

“You’re having trouble?”

“Well, it’s really hard to pee when you’re just standing there!”

“Sorry. ‘Fraid I can’t do anything about that!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes—”

Hermione stopped. The door opened and closed, followed by the loud chatter of excited girls.

They loudly discussed the latest gossip (“Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore? Really?”), who was dating whom (“I heard Abbot left Macmillan for Boot.”), and if they had Charms or Transfiguration next.

Harry unconsciously held his breath until they left.

“Why do girl always go to the bathroom in GROUPS?”

Hermione tutted. “I don’t.”

“Yes, but you’re different.”

Later on, Harry would reflect that it was, perhaps, not the best way to say that. The truth was, he was tremendously relieved Hermione wasn’t like other girls because he didn’t much like most girls.

The trickle of water snapped him from his thoughts and he almost turned around before he remembered why they were in the bathroom.

“This is so mortifying,” Hermione mumbled.

He heard her fumbling for toilet paper, jerking his arm around in the process.

“Can I help with something?”

“Harry!”

She flushed the toilet, allowing Harry to turn around. She wrinkled her nose, her face screwing up in concentration. Harry would have given anything to know what was going on inside her head.

He wondered what it would be like to lean forward and kiss her, changing her look to one of surprise. Did she still fancy him? Had she given up on him?

And did it matter? Could he possibly act on his feelings, knowing what kind of danger it would put her in?

“… don’t want any worse teasing, so it’d be best to spend the night in the common room.”

She peered at him thoughtfully, evidently assuming he’d been listening to her.

“Er… sure. Yeah. That sounds fine.”

Hermione dragged him out of the bathroom stall, face determined. Harry stumbled along after her, struggling with feelings that were certainly more-than-platonic.

****

“You’re stuck together?” Ron said, mouth full of food.

“Yes,” Harry snapped, tired of having to explain the situation.

Hermione kept spilling food all over the table in her attempt to eat left-handed.

“Harry, stop fidgeting,” she said.

“I’m not!”

“You are! My whole arm is shaking!”

“I’m telling you, I’m not moving.”

“It’s really rather irritating.”

“It’s really rather irritating to keep being pelted with food!”

“Well,” she said nastily. “That’s not my problem, is it?”

The both stopped and glared at each other.

Ron burst into laughter. “I should separate you lot.” He paused and then grinned. “Oh, right… I can’t!”

Ron spat pumpkin juice over the table in his hysterics.

Harry stabbed at his broccoli, feeling miserable. He didn’t like bickering with Hermione, but their annoyance with each other had been steadily growing all day.

He shot Hermione an apologetic look.

“Malfoy is going to pay for this one.” He made his voice as menacing as possible, but Hermione barely smiled in response.

“Mmm,” she said, drawn back to her meal.

****

By the evening, Harry was beginning to miss their incessant bickering. Hermione had barely spoken since dinner, growing quieter as the night wore on.

She’d charmed her quill to write for her, ignoring his presence as she concentrated on her homework. Harry found he didn’t have the same self-control. He couldn’t stop looking at her.

He began to realize things about Hermione he’d never noticed before. She bit her bottom lip when she was thinking, twirling a stand of hair around in her fingers. Her nose scrunched up when she read, her eyes zooming down the page as she hurried to absorb every word. When she was annoyed with Ron, her eyes narrowed, small red spots appearing on her cheeks.

He wished he could stop staring, but her hand fastened to his kept him rooted.

Slowly the common room emptied out, the fire dying down to tiny embers. Hermione still did not look up from her essay.

“Hermione?”

“Yes?”

Her voice was slightly breathless and Harry frowned. “You’re angry with me, aren’t you?”

Hermione furiously finished her sentence, her hand clenched tightly on her lap.

“No,” she said.

Harry found her eyes and tried to muster as much sensitivity as he could. “Then… what’s wrong?”

Hermione sighed and leaned back on the couch, squeezing her eyes shut. Harry glanced at their joined hands and then to her face.

“Hermione?”

She took a deep breath. “I always thought that if… if we ever happened, it’d be perfect.” She opened her eyes and Harry was startled to see tears in them. “That—that no one could ever know you as well as I do. But this—this settles it. We couldn’t work.”

“What?” Harry said, genuinely bewildered. “What d’you mean?”

“Oh, Harry,” she said sadly. “You saw what happened today. We can’t even spend twenty-four hours glued together!” She gave a loud sniff. “How could we possibly have a relationship?”

“I… uh…” Harry’s tongue felt thick and clumsy. “Do you really think so?”

Disappointment filled him and he wished she wasn’t there. He was too embarrassed to look at her.

“It’s not you,” she said. “It’s good, Harry, that this happened!” Her voice was cheerful. “We’re just not meant to be.”

Harry blinked and then shook his head. “Yes, we are,” he blurted. “I don’t think this proves anything except that we shouldn’t use the lavatories together. I think…” Harry dropped his voice. “I think we’d be brilliant together.”

Hermione’s face changed, her eyes growing wider and her mouth curving upwards.

“Oh, Harry…”

She surprised him by snuggling down against him, throwing her free arm over his torso. She rested her head on his chest, near his shoulder, giving a delicate little yawn.

Harry stayed completely still, mesmerized by his best friend. She felt so perfect like this, with her arms around him and her hair brushing his chin.

“I mean it,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she said, smiling and snuggling closer.

Harry waited for a moment, letting himself absorb the feel of Hermione lying on him, soaking up the warmth of her body.

“Maybe being glued together isn’t so terrible,” he whispered.

Hermione raised her head so she could see his eyes, her hair cascading down over her shoulders so it touched his chest. Without thinking, his hand came up, his fingers weaving through her strands. She shifted, but didn’t say anything. The tip of her tongue poked out of her mouth, wetting her lips.

So many jumbled emotions piled into his mind, thoughts and desires tripping over themselves and making his heart pound.

Could he close the distance between them and kiss her? Or would that doom them? He needed her friendship too much—the risk was unbearable.

She leaned back against him, hugging his chest.

“But it doesn’t matter, does it?” she said, her voice hushed. “You don’t care about me that way.”

Harry swallowed and listened to his heart thump. He didn’t say anything, only continued to stroke her hair. Words would ruin the moment, anyway.

5. Cinco

Hermione fell asleep easily on his shoulder that night, but Harry wasn't so lucky. He couldn't stop wondering if perhaps he was the world's biggest cad long enough to fall asleep.

Hermione was sleeping peacefully, her breathing slow, even, and nearly silent, but there was a little furrow in her brow that told all. She wasn't happy.

Was it because of him? Could she be depressed at him not returning her feelings? Hermione hadn't seemed quite as pleased - or perhaps she'd seemed too pleased - at the suggestion that they would never work as a couple. Could it be that she wasn't over him?

Or perhaps she was simply being honest. Yes, that would be the best option. She should forget him and move on.

And leave him to die alone and miserable.

Oh, who was he kidding? A very selfish and needy part of him wanted desperately that she pine away for him until her dying day.

Hermione shifted in her sleep, moving away from him, his hand unwillingly tugged along with her.

Just let her go.

~

When Harry next opened his eyes, he was surprised to find it was still dark, and there was something or someone tugging hard on his arm. He squinted in the dim light of the dying fire.

“'Mione? What is it?”

“We should go see if the potion is ready.”

Harry stared. “Hermione, the sun isn't even up yet.”

She attempted to pull him off the couch. “Please, can't we go? I want a shower before classes.”

Harry snuggled resolutely into the corner of the couch. “She said it'd be at least twenty-four hours. It won't be done yet. And I want more sleep before classes.”

Hermione put her free hand huffily on her hip. “Do you want me to smell, Harry?”

“You smell fine. Sleep.”

Muttering under her breath, she settled back again. Harry closed his eyes happily. Sleep…sleep was good, especially when he had inner turmoil keeping him up late…

…Hermione was suspiciously still. And silent. He opened one eye to find her studying him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, flushing. “Go back to sleep.”

“Can't now,” he sighed, pushing himself upright.

“I'm sorry.”

Harry eyed her carefully. “No, you're not.”

Hermione had the decency to blush. “Can we go check on the potion now?”

~

“Well, the git still hasn't done anything,” Lavender announced, summarizing their progress succinctly. “We've tried triggering the hero complex. She's had a life-threatening accident, and that did nothing. And now he's spent a day holding hands with her, and they still aren't snogging!”

“Maybe he just doesn't like her that way,” Ron suggested, trying not to sound too hopeful. He wanted Harry and Hermione to be happy - but if they could do that without being together, Ron might be a bit happier.

Parvati squelched his hope with a roll of her eyes. “Of course he does. You can see it in the way he looks at her.”

“Well…maybe he just isn't telling her,” said Ron.

Lavender frowned, pacing the empty classroom they were conspiring in. “That doesn't make any sense, though! He knows she fancies him. Why wouldn't he?”

“He does have that martyr thing going on. He probably thinks he's protecting her or something by sacrificing his own happiness.” Parvati made a noise of disgust. “Boys.”

Luna was giving him an odd look - again. “Maybe it's you,” she said.

“Me? What have I got to do with it?”

“You fancied her,” said Luna. “I'm sure Harry could tell. Maybe it's not Hermione he's protecting - maybe it's you.”

Lavender nodded decisively. “That's a good theory. We should explore it. Ron, you need to talk to him about it.”

Ron promptly turned pale.

~

It was with great relief that Harry sunk into his bed, alone, unglued from Hermione, his left hand blissfully free…even though he'd gotten used to Hermione's constant presence in just one day, and he almost missed the tugging on his hand. But the bed was soft and warm - softer and warmer still after having spent the previous night on a couch - and he could use the loo comfortably again. He hadn't enjoyed having Hermione there, listening to the entire process - if not peeking, which he felt sure she'd done on at least on occasion.

He didn't get nearly enough sleep…

“Harry?”

Oh, bugger. He was tempted to pretend to be asleep. “Yeah, Ron?”

Ron stood fidgeting beside Harry's bed, his pinstriped pajamas too small for his long, almost apelike arms. “I just wanted you to know, mate, that if you by any chance wanted to date Hermione, I'd be all right with it.”

Harry stiffened, all thoughts of sleep out the window. “Why would I want to date Hermione?”

Ron shrugged. “Thought you might…y'know, fancy her.”

“What would give you that idea?” Harry said, panicking. Had Ron figured it out? If Ron, perhaps the most oblivious git that had ever lived, could see it, then surely everyone would.

“Oh, um…just something Lavender said.”

“Lavender?”

“Yeah. You know how it is…just a bit of gossip. Just thought I'd check. But never mind.”

Ron went to bed, leaving Harry much less comfortable and sleepy than before. What were people saying?

~

“Did you talk to him?”

Ron gave up trying to hide behind a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

“Yeah, I talked to him.”

“And?” said several voices simultaneously.

“He acted like I was mental.”

Lavender and Parvati looked positively giddy.

“Was he tense? Jumpy?”

“Did he avoid admitting anything?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Then he fancies her. Definitely.”

“He just needs to be forced to admit it, then,” said Lavender.

“But…how do we force it out of him?”

There was a long, thoughtful silence.

“The Revelator Potion. We just finished brewing our own in Potions - we can filch some from the classroom.”

~

Hermione was in all the same classes that Harry was in, so it wasn't hard for him to keep an eye on her. During the classes they didn't share, he had free periods and could follow her. What was hard was trying to do it without her noticing.

The girl was absolutely paranoid. He'd been following her under his Invisibility Cloak, and rather quietly, he thought, but she looked over her shoulder every five seconds, as if she'd heard his footsteps.

Today, unfortunately, the Cloak was missing. Harry'd dug around in his bag for at least five minutes looking for it, but it was no use. It'd gone missing.

Harry pushed away his panic at the thought that he'd lost his Cloak or that it had been stolen - he'd have to deal with that later, when he was done watching over Hermione. Just because nothing had happened to her yet didn't mean today wouldn't be the day someone snuck up on her and hexed her! Constant vigilance!

…Alert the press. I've truly gone mental this time.

Well, mental or not, he had a job to do.

He followed her most of the way to Arithmancy, ducking behind statues and tapestries whenever she happened to look over her shoulder, but Hermione soon led him through a stretch of hallway that had no statues, nor tapestries, nor conveniently large holes in the wall, and it wasn't long until the inevitable happened.

“I knew it!”

Hermione had gone into full attack mode, hands on her hips and eyes blazing.

“…Hi, Hermione.”

“You've been following me around all week, haven't you?”

“Just a little bit,” he said sheepishly.

“I know what you're up to,” she said sharply. “You're on some over-protective kick because you think I can't handle myself now, but I can! I was just unlucky -“

“I know you can handle yourself!” Harry interrupted. “But what happens the next time you're `just unlucky' and there's no one around to save you?”

Hermione's expression was impossible for him to read as she replied, “Don't trouble yourself. I'll find someone else to save me.”

~

Dinner that evening was a tense affair. Hermione hadn't spoken to him since he'd seated himself beside her, but at least she hadn't moved away.

Hermione aside, Harry had a feeling that there was something fishy going on, and it had nothing to do with the meal. He supposed he should have been more suspicious when Lavender and Parvati took the spaces across from him and Hermione. As it was, he remained much too engrossed in trying to puzzle out the meaning of Hermione's last words to him that he paid the two no mind.

When next he looked up to take a drink of pumpkin juice, they were both looking at him expectantly. Probably about to ask him about some ridiculous rumor again… The pumpkin juice was a bit warmer than usual…that was odd. The house-elves were usually good at keeping it chilled.

Lavender and Parvati smiled simultaneously, and Harry glanced at Hermione to see a look of horror dawning on her face.

Perhaps he should have passed on the juice…

“Harry,” Lavender said with smirking satisfaction, “do you -“

“Lavender, don't, it's -” Hermione tried to cut in, but to no avail.

“- fancy Hermione?”

Harry meant to say something along the lines of “no” or “that's none of your business.” What came out was something entirely different.

“Yes.”

Harry flushed and realized too late what Hermione's look of horror had been for. They'd used a potion on him - the Revelator.

Slowly, he turned to face the music.

-->

6. Six

Author’s Note: And another Goldy/Amethyst collaboration comes to a close. Wah. *hugs Amethyst* Thanks for working with me. Again.

Well, bugger me, Harry thought, stomach rolling in an uncomfortable sort of way. He hunkered down near his food, somehow hoping that if he ignored the entire thing for long enough, it would go away.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice was gentle, but the question was clear. Is it true?

Harry couldn’t look at her. He pushed his food around on his plate, jabbing his broccoli into the mashed potatoes.

“We knew it,” Lavender said loudly, causing several Gryffindor heads to turn in their direction. “Oh, this is positively wonderfully amazing, Harry!”

Harry jabbed at his broccoli and ignored her.

“Lavender,” Hermione said, apprehensive. “Perhaps it would be best to—”

“We tried everything,” Parvati said. “Goodness only knows, when that failed date with Seamus wouldn’t do it—”

“You set me up on that date!” Hermione shrieked.

“And, of course, watching you two tied together was just awful,” Parvati said. “All that sexual tension—”

“Drove Ron off his rocker, of course, but he came through in the end, didn’t he?” Lavender said.

Jab. Jab. Jab.

“He came through positively absolutely wonderfully!” Parvati said. “It was Lav’s idea to use the Revelator—seemed only fair for Harry to admit it in the same manner you had to, Hermione.”

“This—everything we’ve gone through—this was because of you two?” Hermione said, flailing her arms about.

Harry jabbed at his broccoli until a dull ting told him he was hitting the plate. He scowled.

“Well, yes,” Lavender said. “Aren’t we good?”

Harry couldn’t take anymore. He threw down his napkin, let his cutlery clatter to the table, and stormed out of the Great Hall. Loud whispers broke out behind him.

He stomped all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, knowing without turning that nearly everyone had followed his retreat.

He spat the password at the Fat Lady and clambered in through the Portrait Hole. Inside the common room, he stopped. His entire body was shaking and his jaw ached from keeping his teeth clenched together.

He whirled around to face the onslaught of oncoming Gryffindors, braced for a fight. The tension of the last few weeks seemed to cumulate to bursting levels.

Predictably, Parvati and Lavender were in the lead, Seamus, Dean, Ron, and Neville not far behind them. Harry’s thoughts strayed to Hermione and he was glad to find her missing from the group.

Ron frowned when he saw him, interpreting his balled fists and rapid breathing correctly. Ron took a step back, his face growing pale.

“What right…” he started and couldn’t go on. He bowed his head, trying to regain some kind of control over his anger. “You—had—no—right.”

Lavender and Parvati exchanged a glance. “What—what are you talking about, Harry?”

“You—you… you had no right to go behind my back!” Harry kicked angrily at the couch, causing the group to flinch. “I am not someone you can just manipulate!”

“We weren’t…” Lavender began, her voice quivering. “That’s not—”

“And you!” Harry whirled on Seamus. “Going along with the plan… Hermione ended up in the hospital wing because of you!”

“We didn’t mean for that to happen!” Parvati burst out. “We were just trying to help!”

“Yeah?” Harry said. “Help?” He took two steps towards her. “This isn’t any of your business! I don’t care how nosy you have to be—this wasn’t any of your business! You can’t just—just play with people’s emotions!”

“Harry, come on,” Ron said weakly. “Calm down—you’re overreacting, you’re—”

“Oh, fuck that!” Harry said. “You knew! You knew they were doing this, Ron, and you didn’t tell me—you didn’t tell either of us.”

“But it’s like she said, Harry, we were only trying to help.” Ron dropped his voice. “D’you know what it cost me to back off? Do you?”

“Crabbe and Goyle put her in the hospital wing,” Harry said from between clenched teeth. “All thanks to your meddling. What about that, Ron? What did that cost you?”

“You know I wouldn’t want anything to happen to Hermione!” Ron said, face reddening. “She’s my best friend!”

Harry shook his head. “Then you should’ve thought about what you were doing,” he said quietly.

Ron looked like he didn’t know whether to yell or apologize.

“But, Harry…” Parvati sounded pleading. “It’s all out in the open now. You and Hermione both fancy each other. Isn’t that… I mean… that’s good, isn’t it?”

“You don’t understand,” Harry bit out. “It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?” Lavender demanded.

Harry shot her a withering look. “Hello, have you met me? My name’s Harry Potter. Horrible things happen to people I care about.”

“So?” Lavender said.

“So?” Harry repeated. “It’s not fair to Hermione! And more to the point, it’s not that simple! We’re best friends—”

Everyone in the room groaned, even Ron.

“—what?”

“Oh, Harry,” Parvati said sadly, giving him a wide-eyed pitying look. “That’s such… a shoddy excuse.”

“No, it’s not!” Harry said, desperate to make them understand. “Don’t you get it? I need her! I wouldn’t be able to take it if she left me. She’s… she’s always been there, ever since I was eleven-years-old. What would I do if one day she wasn’t?”

Lavender and Parvati looked a little weepy and Harry suddenly realized he’d been drawn off topic. Scowling, he went back to glaring at them.

“Look, Harry,” Neville said. “I think it’s clear that some of us—” He shot Lavender, Parvati, Dean, Seamus, and Ron a dirty look. “Interfered where we shouldn’t have. But what you and Hermione have, it’s special.”

Everyone in the common room nodded, their faces solemn.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said. “That doesn’t excuse what… what they did.”

“No,” Neville said. “But you should really be talking to Hermione right now, don’t you think?”

***

Neville had grown surprisingly perceptive over the years, Harry decided, shuffling through his trunk to find his Marauder’s Map. Being angry with Lavender and Parvati—while justified—had really been a way of avoiding the inevitable conversation with Hermione.

But she deserves an explanation. Resigned, Harry searched for the dot labeled “Hermione.” He found it pacing back and forth in the Astronomy Tower. Grabbing his Invisibility Cloak, he set off.

Passing Lavender and Parvati, he heard them discussing his reaction to the Revelator—still. Some things will never change. He resisted the urge to put a petty curse on them, realizing on some level that their actions really had been done with the best of intentions.

At this time of night, the Astronomy Tower was shrouded in darkness. It was eerie climbing the long winding staircase without the flicker of torchlight. He kept his eyes on the Marauder’s Map, unwilling to run into anyone.

Hermione had her eyes pressed to a telescope, studying the night sky. Harry stopped next to her, not wanting to disturb her. She seemed to be engrossed.

“Did you ever look at the stars when you were younger?” she asked softly, startling him.

“No,” he said. “I lived at the Dursleys’. I think they would have chucked me out if they caught me staring aimlessly at the sky.”

Hermione didn’t laugh. “I used to stare at the night sky all the time.”

Harry waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he turned to look at her. Her face was pensive, moonlight giving her a pale glow.

“It’s a bit overwhelming to look at the sky, really. Seeing something so much bigger than you… even as wizards, with all our magic, we still don’t have any comprehension of what’s out there.”

Harry hadn’t thought about it before. “I suppose not.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, her forehead creasing into a frown.

“What?” he said, caught off-guard. “I didn’t—”

“I thought it too,” Hermione said. “All those times… I could have told you and I never did. Haven’t you wondered why that was?”

Harry soundlessly shook his head, completely fascinated by her. How much of his best friend did he really know? How much did she keep hidden from him? He was acutely aware of how isolated they were in the Astronomy Tower, in the dark…

His mind strayed to places they had no business being in, but he couldn’t help it. For so long he’d admired her strength, her intellect, her bravery… and now he admired her for all the things that made her a girl.

“Friendship is easy, Harry,” she whispered. “We didn’t have to worry about not working out or falling in love with other people. All the things you’re worried about… they worry me too. But now—”

“We can’t pretend anymore,” he said. “We can’t ever go back to the way things were.”

“No,” she said, “we can’t.”

They looked at each other and he knew that she, like him, was feeling the loss of their friendship.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said. “It’s… it’s right terrifying, but it’s not bad.”

“I don’t think so either.” She sighed and gave him a small smile, her face full of fondness. He felt his heart jump and his stomach take a nosedive.

“What do we do now?”

“I think… I think we should test this.”

“Test this?” Harry repeated, his heart rate jumping.

She nodded. “If we don’t test it, we won’t know for sure that this is the proper course of action.”

“Erm… right. That makes sense.”

Hermione’s tone turned brisk. “Close your eyes.”

“I…” Harry licked his lips. “Okay.”

Obediently, he shut his eyes, his mind busy wondering what she had in store for him. For a long time nothing happened. Then he heard her moving. She’s coming closer to me.

He felt her palm on his face, her hand soft and warm against his cheek. He stayed absolutely still. Her breath passed over his chin, tickling his neck.

“Hermio—”

“Shhh,” she whispered.

He nodded, his mouth unbearably dry.

She laid her other hand on his other cheek, both hands cupping his face. Then, finally, she brushed her mouth to his, hesitantly, holding it there for the briefest of moments before pulling away.

He opened his eyes, finding her face flushed. Her eyes were shining, her breathing loud in the silence surrounding them.

“Did I pass?” he whispered.

She merely nodded, biting her lip. She hugged her arms to her chest, giving him a look of naked vulnerability.

He immediately went to her, rubbing her shoulders until she looked at him. “Do you trust me?”

“More than anything.”

“Then trust in us. I reckon that’s one of the only things we can really be sure of, Hermione.”

She smiled and leaned forward. He met her halfway, their lips meeting in a real kiss. Her arms encircled his neck until she was pressed against him. His fingers wound their way into her hair, making her sigh into his mouth.

They stayed like that for a little while, the Astronomy Tower dark and quiet around them, the rest of the world far away.

The End

***

A/N: I'd just like to mention that, yes, "close your eyes" was a shoutout to Buffy/Angel - my first ship. But, shhh. Don't tell Amethyst. She ships Spuffy. *hides*

Other than that, thanks for reading another one of our collabs. I know we’re going to do this again in the future – I can’t even tell you the number of times I snorted all over my computer screen when I got an email from Amethyst discussing this piece. Have I mentioned how awesome she is yet?

As usual, a huge thank you to all your reviews. We’ve been squeeing ourselves silly over the response to this fic, even with it being pre-HBP.