I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I should have updated this ages ago, I know. But a lot of things has happened since I last updated. I went through the hardest time in school (last half of my eleventh. It's the hardest time here in Sweden) and halfway through that, me and my boyfriend for almost four years broke up. Trust me, it's a bit hard to write a romantic comedy after something like that.
Still, I'm sorry. I should have updated this a lot sooner.
So, now you're all wondering… When will the next update come? No idea. Probably soon. You see, it's my birthday soon, and I have a tradition to treat my faithful readers with a fic or two around that time. My way of celebrating my birthday, so to speak. :P So, this might (well, probably) be one of the 'birthday fics'. 'When's my birthday?' you might ask now. Well, let me give you a clue… A very infamous Harry Potter book came out on that date.
And now, thanks to all of you who've reviewed. I can't tell you how much this has meant to me. Also, a special thanks to a certain Portuguese girl I talk to on msn. If it wasn't for you pushing me, I'd probably be behind in my updating.
Well, enjoy and please review while you're at it!
-Cherry (who doesn't mind people adding her to msn;))
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Chapter eight: Trapped Once Again
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Harry sighed as he gripped a book in the pile in front of him, carelessly discarding the book he'd been reading before over his shoulder. Should either Madame Pince or -at least in a normal state- Hermione catch him in the act, he'd be dead. But he was too tired to care.
They'd been searching for hours. His fingers were aching and his stomach was growling unhappily, as both lunch and dinner had passed forgotten, but he ignored them pointedly. He wouldn't rest until he knew how to cure her. Or at least until he had some answers.
Harry glanced up at Neville, ignoring the twinge of guilt as he noticed the worn expression his friend's face held.
Neville's stare flickered upwards in just that moment, meeting Harry's gaze with his own. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Have you found something?"
Harry shook his head, a few strands of his dark hair settling itself in front of his eyes. "No." He drew a hand through his hair in a agitated motion, pushing away the annoying bangs from his vision. "I need to get a haircut," he muttered darkly.
Neville leaned over the books tiredly, moaning into his hands. "I need a break."
Harry nodded, his eyes traveled over the large stacks of unread books tiredly. It was ridiculous how many books there were about potions gone awry, but was even more ridiculous -at least to Harry - was the complete lack of information on pheromones.
Harry leaned back in his chair, groaning tiredly. Oh, how much easier it would have been with Hermione's help.
He rubbed his temples tiredly. He could basically hear her voice in his head.
"Oh, Harry," she would say, both her voice and face stern, but her eyes would betray her; they would shine with the amusement she'd desperately hide. "Haven't you listened to a word of what Snape's said? Really, Harry. What on earth would you do without me? Pheromones are essential in a lot of potions…"
"Psst, Harry!" Neville hissed suddenly, breaking his train of thoughts.
"Huh?"
His eyes darted between him and the library entrance. "Hermione just came through the entrance…and she's looking for a certain someone by the looks of it."
Harry's green eyes widened. "Oh no," he moaned, ducking under the table quickly. "Why does this feel familiar?"
It was a brief moment of silence before soft steps sounded towards them. For a brief moment panic seized Harry's heart. Had she seen him duck under the table?
"Hello, Neville. Do you know where Harry is?"
Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
"Yeah. He's--"
"Oh no, you don't," Harry growled, gripping Neville's leg tightly.
Neville winced. "…Not here?" he squeaked.
"Oh." She sounded almost defeated. "Well, if you see him, could you please tell him I…have something I want to show him. Something I think he'll enjoy…" By the sultry tone of her voice, Harry didn't doubt that for a second.
"Um… He-Hermione? Can I ask you something?"
Harry blinked. What on earth was Neville doing?
"Could you please tell me a bit more about the magical properties in pheromones? Specifically in potions?"
In that moment, Harry felt like he could have kissed him. Neville, you're a genius!
"Pheromones? Why?"
"Ah, you see… Harry was wondering."
"Oh, really? Well…" For a moment she sounded almost normal, as if she wasn't under some weird potion's fumes. "Well, it depends on what it's mixed with--"
"Stinksap," he blurted. "I mean, what would happen if it was mixed with stinksap?"
"Well, stink sap strengthens the potion efficiency considerately and pheromones are naturally used by insects to help them with their mating. Basically it draws male insects to female ones. So mixed together I suppose it would force the consummator to…to follow people in opposite gender."
Harry blinked. As far as he knew, the only male she'd been fallowing around was him…
"But, would natural attraction have anything to do with who the, err, consummator followed? Or would that depend on what else was mixed into the brew?"
"It would depend, I think. My," her voice was higher than normal again, "what funny questions you ask. Well, tell Harry what I said about that surprise if you see him…" Her shoes clicked softly against the floor as she walked off.
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Harry yawned as he entered his dorm, unbuttoning his shirt tiredly. The room was quiet and empty. Normally, he would have thought it was too early to sleep, but now… Now he couldn't have cared less. The several hours of non-stop researching had taken its toll. His brain felt like mush and his body was sore after sitting still for so long.
He let his shirt fall to the floor, unbuttoning his pants slowly.
"Hello, Harry."
Harry froze, his emerald eyes traveled over the floor. Clothes lay haphazardly over the floor. A red silky dress had been discarded by one of the chairs, and a black lacy bra had been carelessly dropped to the floor in front of his bed.
He gulped, his gaze traveling upwards, towards his bed. He choked. "He-Hermione."
She was wearing one of his shirts again, he realized. She was lying on her side, top of his covers, one leg draped over the over. Her right hand supported the weight of her head as she stared at him, her other hand playing with the hem of his blanket. "Hello, Harry," she repeated as she pushed herself upright.
"He-hey," he squeaked.
"I've been waiting for you." She slid her feet to the floor.
Harry closed his eyes for an instant, telling himself that the world hadn't really begun to revolve in reverse. It just felt that way.
She walked towards him, and he had to force his gaze from her long legs and how his shirt hiked up her tights as she walked, showing hints of black lace. He blushed.
She reached him quickly, draping her arms around him. "Do…you need help?" Her eyes traveled downwards, towards his half-way unbuttoned pants.
He jerked away. "No, no. I'm fine. I, um, just realized that I--"
She placed a finger over his lips. "Shh… Just relax." Her hands traveled over to his shoulders and she squeezed it softy. "Just relax, Harry. You're so tense. Let me…help." He last word came out as a husky whisper.
He staggered backwards. "I'm sorry. I just…I'll, uh…"
"Harry?"
He paused, staring at her with wide eyes.
"You need to relax." And with that, she reached up and pressed her lips to his.
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To be continued…