A/N - Hiya everyone. I'm really sorry it took so long to get this next chapter up! But I'm finally moved into my new place, so I should have a little more time to write now. This chapter isn't quite as long as the previous, but I think you'll find it has quite a bit packed into it. I can't escape the feeling that I rushed a couple parts, but there you go. Maybe I'll go back and expand them later. I reckon most of you will be quite pleased with some of it, though ;)
------------------------------------------------------------------
Hermione awoke slowly from the velvety darkness she was drifting in; warm and safe. Gradually, shafts of soft light worked their way between her eyelids and sensations began to creep up on her. She was extremely comfortable, but something seemed off about the position she had slept in...
HARRY!
Hermione's eyes snapped open and she found herself in Harry's bed. In Harry's arms, as a matter of fact, just the same as last night. Memory came flooding back on her; waiting for him to get home, feeling his arms go around her, the music...
He had shifted back so now he was leaning against the wall with his legs splayed across the bed, Hermione enfolded in his arms. His grip was simultaneously firm and tender; Hermione felt like nothing could ever harm her there.
Eyes wide, she tilted her head back carefully and looked up at Harry. He was breathing slowly and deeply, face relaxed in the most unguarded and peaceful expression she had yet seen. Not wanting to wake him, Hermione gently shifted her head back into a more comfortable position, resting against Harry's chest. Despite her best intentions, she couldn't resist also entwining the fingers of her right hand with his. She grimaced slightly at the taste in her mouth and whispered a spell. A refreshing taste of mint cleansed the morning breath.
"Good morning, little witch," Harry's voice breathed in her ear.
"Oh!" Hermione squeaked, jerking a little. Harry was looking down at her, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth. She noticed that while his hand remained unresponding, he hadn't tugged it free either.
"I, um-" Hermione searched for something to say that wouldn't sound stupid.
"You startled me," she finished lamely. "Were you awake the whole time?"
Harry simply continued to look down at her intently, though it was impossible to read his eyes. The small smile still tugged at his otherwise serious expression, which combined for a devastatingly endearing effect. Perhaps that partially explained her next, un-Hermionelike action. It was as if a stranger took control of her body and she stood watching helplessly from the side. To her mortification, the stranger raised her hand and tentatively ran her fingers across Harry's cheek. His skin was smooth and warm and the contact sent a shiver down Hermione's spine.
Harry was still just looking at her. Emboldened, the stranger snaked a hand up behind Harry's neck and interlaced her fingers in his hair; her inner voice was gibbering in panic: oh no, oh no, OH NO, what am I doing?! Firmly, the stranger controlling her body pulled Harry's head down and kissed him full on the lips.
It was a trifle one-sided at first, but gradually Harry responded. The trapped Hermione had nearly passed out from shock, but the bold Hermione was quite enjoying the situation. Eventually, though, Hermione came back to her senses and re-asserted control. She gasped in horror, broke off the kiss and positively leaped off the bed. Cheeks flaming, she scurried away half a dozen steps and stood facing the wall.
"Oh my God," she said in a strangled voice, running a finger over the lingering sensation on her lips. "I don't know what came over me! I'm so sorry, Harry!"
"Sorry?" Harry asked from behind, an odd catch in his voice. "Sorry that you snogged me? Did you not wan- mean to?"
"Oh... I didn't say that..." Hermione answered inaudibly, blushing furiously at the wall.
"Or perhaps," she heard Harry approaching and quailed, "you don't think anyone else would want to kiss you?"
"I- uh-" Hermione floundered. Harry had hit it right on the button, of course. Who would want to kiss her? Plain, bookish, boring Hermione. She felt Harry's hand on her shoulder moments before he spun her around.
"You know, you're as transparent as glass sometimes, Hermione."
She was having a very hard time meeting Harry's eyes. What had she been thinking!
"You're a brilliant kisser, though. The best by far. Did you learn that in a book?" he teased. If possible, Hermione went ever more crimson. Harry laughed.
"Come on. I'll make you breakfast; I owe you for that marvelous meal you made me."
With that, Harry strode off into the kitchen without another word about the encounter, leaving an extremely confused Hermione behind.
* * *
Harry was presenting a cool exterior, but his insides were roiling in shock and panic. And fear. He was afraid; he was afraid he was incapable of returning Hermione's feelings. Incapable of those feelings at all. Joking was the only way he could cover it. He allowed himself to sag against the kitchen counter for a moment until Hermione entered the room uncertainly.
He had never really thought of Hermione as anything but a dear friend; he enjoyed her company immensely and treasured their friendship above anything else. She had single-handedly, stubbornly, dragged him (unwillingly) back from the Hell he had made his life and given him a reason to live again, all the while shrugging off his repeated, savage attempts to push her away. He would die for her and kill anyone who threatened her. But... this? She deserved better.
How could I be so dense? I should have realized she felt that way about me... even RON tried to tell me! But when did it happen? HOW did it happen?
"So what do you want? Eggs? Bacon? Toast? Sausage?" he asked politely.
"Um... that would be fine," Hermione answered in a small voice, timidly taking a seat at the newly made table. Harry still seemed to hold the upper hand, so he would continue acting nonchalant. If he never mentioned it, maybe they'd forget about it...
"I'm afraid it won't be anything like your cooking," he apologized, "but I promise it'll taste ok. I had to do it enough for the Dursleys."
"Um, yeah... about that..." Hermione was seized by a sudden urge to confess. "I, um- you see, that wasn't really me. Well, it was, but it wasn't-"
Harry looked at her quizzically as he fetched out a frying pan and the various ingredients he required. They were both trying very hard to act normal; too hard. He could see the strain on her and certainly knew the strain he was feeling.
"It was my mom," Hermione said in a rush. "I called her and was on the phone with her for a whole hour! She told me how to do everything. And... I cheated a bit too."
"Was it you that physically made it?" Hermione looked at him blankly. "Did your hands prepare it? In your kitchen, with your stuff? All by yourself?"
"Well, yes, I suppose-"
"Then you made it. All that proves is the talent runs in the family. And that I need to meet your mum."
Hermione stared at Harry, open-mouthed. A moment later she started giggling hysterically. Not five minutes ago they had been locked together at the lips and now they were arguing about something silly like whether or not she could really cook? And he wanted to meet her mother? Her mother, who was convinced that she had been cooking a meal for a date? Hermione giggled louder as the absurdity of it hit her.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"This-" Hermione tried in vain to control the giggling, "is - heh - stupid. What on earth are we - hehe - doing?"
Harry grinned sheepishly and also uttered a reluctant chuckle. That fueled Hermione even more and she was now giggling uncontrollably. Before long they were clutching at the table for support and gasping for breath, stuck in one of those situations where they couldn't even remember what was so funny in the first place but just couldn't stop laughing. Every little thing set them off again and every fifteen or twenty seconds one would recover enough to choke out an inane word or phrase and throw them both into more helpless gales of laughter. It defused the situation as nothing else could have.
Harry finally recovered enough to speak, holding his aching sides.
"Hermione, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. Best. Ever. What would I do without you?"
"Just make sure we never find out," she poked him sharply in the side. In response, Harry scooped her off the chair into a bone-shattering hug.
"Oof! Put me down, you big monkey! Wait, no, you don't really have to!"
"Thank you for rescuing me, Hermione," Harry said seriously, releasing her. "If it wasn't for you I... "
"wouldn't have just cracked all my ribs," Hermione finished dryly.
Harry grinned. "You're my hero. My heroine."
"Oh, stop being ridiculous!" she snapped, looking pleased all the same. They seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement not to talk about what happened earlier that morning.
"Oh no!" Hermione suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm supposed to be at work! I totally forgot!"
"Stay for breakfast. You're already late, you might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb," Harry said reasonably. The distressed look faded from Hermione's face slightly. Harry could have said anything; just the fact that he wanted her to stay caused Hermione's face to light up.
"Oh, alright. You're probably right."
"Of course I am," Harry responded, bustling about the kitchen. Hermione could have sworn there hadn't been two frying pans and a toaster oven a second ago. In a surprisingly short time Harry was tipping a couple eggs, half a dozen sausage links, a piece of toast and several strips of bacon onto her plate.
"I can't eat all that!" she protested. "I'm not a boy!"
"Yeah, I noticed that," Harry said with a perfectly straight face. She blushed again; her face had spent more time being red than not so far.
Not even bothering with pretense this time, Harry conjured a glass of orange juice.
"Hey, take a look at this," Harry said casually as he pushed the glass towards her. Carelessly, he flopped his arm over so that the under-arm was facing up.
"Look at what?" Hermione managed past a huge mouthful. She was much hungrier than she had thought. It was good. Harry captured her eyes with his and then let his gaze drift down to his arm. Hermione followed. It took a moment for her to realize what she was looking at.
"What did you do?" she gasped, seizing the arm. There were only half a dozen scars now; five little ones and one big, thick one running the length.
"There were twice as many yesterday morning," Harry said in a neutral voice. "How are you getting rid of them? I thought you said you couldn't?"
"Me?" Hermione gaped. "I haven't done anything. I swear!"
Harry looked skeptical.
"So they're going away all by themselves?"
"I don't know, Harry!" Hermione cried. "But I'm really glad!"
"Yeah," Harry said quietly. "Me too... every time one disappears I feel a little better... a little happier..."
* * *
Hermione was still flustered by the time she apparated at St. Mungo's. She had showered and changed in less than five minutes, which resulted in a rather striking outfit. Her hair was at its wildest and she struggled to tie it back.
"You're late," noted Helga, the receptionist.
"Yeah, sorry!" Hermione apologized, rushing past.
"You have a visitor."
"What?" Hermione skidded to a halt.
"Yes," Helga skimmed her appointment book. "A little blind girl. Let me see... ah, yes. Ginny Weasley."
"Ginny?" Hermione repeated blankly. "What's she doing here?"
"I haven't the foggiest," the blonde receptionist responded breezily. "She kept spouting some nonsense about Harry Potter. Healer Swift is with her now in room 254 in the Ward for Incurable Curses. Her brother will be back to pick her up in an hour."
"Oh... thanks..." Hermione reversed direction and sprinted towards the lift; she had a very bad feeling about this. Would Healer Swift tell Ginny?
Doors flashed past and a shaky patient flattened himself against the wall as Hermione sped past.
"Sorry!" she called, not slowing down. Panting, Hermione reached the lift and pounded on the button.
"Open, open!" she wheezed.
A minute later Hermione slid to a halt outside 254. She took a moment to compose herself and catch her breath, then knocked.
"Come on in."
"Hi Ginny!" Hermione said loudly as she entered the room. Ginny was sitting on the edge of a bed, hands folded in her lap and hair spilling down her back. She had an excited look on her face. Swift was seated in a chair across from her.
"Hi Hermione! Where's Harry?"
"Harry?" Hermione threw a quick, accusatory look at Swift, but the old Healer shook her head. "Oh, you mean No One?"
"No, I mean Harry!" Ginny said indignantly. "I know you know who 'No One' really is, why are you pretending?"
"Ginny, I don't know what you're talking about..." Hermione turned to Swift desperately. "I, uh... oh yeah! Healer Swift, I was going to research what Muggles know about eyesight in the hopes that I could find something to help Ginny. What do you think?"
"Hmmmm..." Swift said. "Normally, I wouldn't condone something like that. But, Muggles know some surprising things sometimes. Miss Weasley has proved unresponsive to any of our treatments. I say, if there is a chance it could help, go at it. As a matter of fact, you can do that today. I had to shift your patients over to Healer Sprocket since you were late."
"I'm really sorry," Hermione apologized profusely. "It was Ha-"
Hermione clamped her mouth shut. She was so scatter-brained this morning!
"It was Harry who said that Hermione should look up Muggle medicine," Ginny broke in. "D'you reckon he knows something?"
Hermione sighed.
"Healer Swift, could I speak with Ginny alone?"
"Certainly," Swift said with a knowing smile. "Don't forget; you've got a lot of research to do. Just because you're not working with patients does not mean I will expect any less of you!"
"Yes, Healer," Hermione said meekly. Swift left and closed the door quietly behind her.
"Ginny," Hermione began, drawing the chair forward to face her eager friend. "What makes you think No One is Harry?"
"Oh, all sorts of things," Ginny bounced enthusiastically. "You see, you hear differently when you're blind. Not only is my hearing better (and I could never forget Harry's voice!), but I listen for different sorts of things too. Every person has a different pattern to the way they talk. I think they call it a cadence. Anyway, when you're blind you learn to recognize these things. It's almost as accurate as seeing them. Ron thinks I've gone round the twist."
"And that's it?" Hermione pressed.
"Well, no. You and Harry slipped up a bunch of times. No one else realized it because they're too busy looking at you and Harry instead of listening. Harry must look really different..."
"Yes," Hermione murmured, staring at her knees. "He does. He's still beautiful, though..."
"It IS Harry! I knew it!" Ginny crowed. Hermione didn't say anything; she sat slumped, miserable at her failure to keep Harry's secret.
"Hermione?" Ginny asked tentatively after a minute of silence.
"Ginny... are you still in love with Harry?"
"Oh..." Ginny said, a peculiar look on her face. Hermione waited.
"I will always love Harry," Ginny answered at last, and Hermione's face twisted. "But not that way. It was wonderful while it lasted, but... I just want him back in my life as my friend. And everyone else does too."
"I've had a lot of time to think since that curse hit me," Ginny groped blindly until she found Hermione's hand and squeezed it tightly. "And since I heard Neville murdered, protecting me... Ron told me he killed a dozen Death Eaters before they pulled him down. He was right there in front of me the whole time and I never realized it... you're the one in love with Harry, aren't you Hermione?"
Hermione couldn't bring herself to respond.
"You are. You always have been. Anyone could see it, except us stupid kids. It took me years to realize it. But, you know what?"
"What?" Hermione managed feebly, clinging to Ginny's hand.
"You two are so perfect together. You belong together; anybody can see that. Even Ron is going on about how you fancy this 'No One'. And... I know Harry loves you too. Even if he doesn't realize it yet, the foolish boy. We'll straighten him out, don't you worry. It'll just be between us girls. We gotta stick together."
"Oh, Ginny!" Hermione fell forward onto her knees and hugged Ginny tightly. "I was so afraid that you... and I... and you won't believe what happened this morning... and I don't know what to do with boys, I was never good like you..."
Ginny listened patiently as Hermione spilled her guts, telling Ginny everything she hadn't been able to tell anyone else.
"Hush," Ginny hugged Hermione fiercely as she trailed off. "Don't worry, we'll put everything right."
"I'm supposed to be the healer here," Hermione smiled faintly into Ginny's shoulder. "But I get the feeling I'm the patient right now. When did you become so wise?"
"When that Death Eater blinded me," Ginny sighed. "It's amazing how much better I see things now. Tell me... what does Harry look like now?"
* * *
Harry prowled restlessly around his flat all day, picking up and putting down projects. He couldn't concentrate on one for more than five minutes. He even stepped out for a bit, but there was nothing outside that appealed to him either.
"What am I going to do?" he said aloud, perched on the end of his bed. Automatically, he glanced at the clock.
7:23 PM. He fell back into a brooding silence. Several minutes later, the sound of the door opening jogged Harry back into the present.
"Hermione?" Harry called, springing to his feet. "Is that you?"
"Hi, Harry," Hermione greeted him as he hastened out into the living area. Not surprisingly, she clutched an armload of books. Her eyes were a bit red, but she looked quite happy. What on earth did that mean?
"You were right, Harry," Hermione said brightly. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. You wouldn't believe the stuff Muggles know about eyesight. And the brain! I really think there might be something that can help Ginny in here. They have the knowledge, but they can't do anything with it without magic..."
"That's great!" Harry exclaimed. "Really!"
"Oh, Ron sent an owl to me at St. Mungo's," Hermione dumped her books on the table. "Wanted to know where you got off to the other night. Says you were brilliant and that he needs to give you your broom back."
"That idiot," Harry said in exasperation. "It's his now. If I really want another one I'll make it."
"Yeah, well... he'd be much happier if you told him who you really are," Hermione said with a significant look. "Ginny's already been telling him it's you."
Harry sighed.
"Just drop it, Hermione. And see if you can't get Ginny to as well."
"He asked if we would meet up with him and Charlotte the night after tomorrow," Hermione continued with a scowl. "To grab something to eat."
"Oh. Well, it would be nice to see him..."
"Good," Hermione nodded in satisfaction. "Because I told him we'd be there."
"Thanks for asking me first," Harry's retorted in a voice loaded with sarcasm.
"Mmmmm..." Hermione settled down on Harry's couch with a book; she didn't look like she had any intention of leaving. "You did a really good job on this couch, Harry."
"I'm glad you approve. Why don't you just go ahead and move in, Hermione?" Harry joked. "When's the last time you spent more than an hour in your own flat? You've used my couch more than I have."
"Really?" Hermione twisted around and peered over the top of her book. "D'you really think so? When can I move in?"
"Hermione!" Harry laughed. "I was just kidd- Are you serious?"
Hermione dropped her book (an event unheard of in itself) and clambered onto her knees, leaning over the back of the couch and eyes shining in excitement.
"Well, why not?" she asked eagerly. "I mean, what's the point of blowing money on two flats if we don't have to? Besides, we're already practically living together, like you said."
"I-" Harry frowned in thought. "I- well, I suppose you have a point. It's just, well, I haven't lived with another person in a long time; I don't know if it would be a good idea. And you're, well... a girl. And today..."
"Are you saying you wouldn't want to share a flat with me?" Hermione asked in disappointment.
"No, no," Harry said hurriedly. "That's not it. You're really quite welcome to stay here, but I'm probably a bad flatmate. And I don't care about money. You can stay for free."
Hermione squealed in delight and rushed around the sofa to throw her arms around him.
"Oh, what fun! And I'll pay my own way."
"No, you really don't have to-"
"I'm quite capable of taking care of myself," Hermione interrupted dangerously.
"-of course, you'll have to pay your share," Harry switched smoothly. Hermione smiled and bounced on the balls of her feet.
"I'll go get my stuff ready!"
"N-Now?" stammered Harry.
"Well, why wait?" demanded Hermione, then rushed out the door.
Several hours later, much wand waving and a few frantic dodges of flying furniture and Hermione was firmly ensconced in Harry's spare bedroom. Harry himself stood in the carnage of his dismantled workshop, a bit dazed.
"Sooooo. What do you want for supper?" Hermione demanded. Harry stuttered something vague. Maybe, thought Hermione, Ginny does know what she's about after all...
-->