Disclaimer: I take credit for this plot and my own characters, but everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Note: Sorry for the delay, guys, but chapter three is finally here! I know it's kind of short, but I tried to answer as many of your questions as I could. This has got to be the most successful story I've written. I love hearing your feedback, so please keep the reviews coming! I hope you like this installment as much as I do...and I like it a lot. :-D
Chapter Three
The Witch's Spell
It was well past midnight when I descended the spiral mahogany staircase and looked around my sitting room. It was about as large as the Gryffindor Common Room, with a couple of comfortable leather arm chairs, a constantly stoked fire, a Persian rug, and several other odd assortments that would make a Head Girl feel at home. I rubbed warmth into my bare arms and dug my toes into the thick carpeting. Although the bed in the beautiful loft was the softest I had ever had the fortune of laying my body on, sleep was unobtainable to me. There was simply too much on my mind. I glanced around the room and instantly found a huge oak bookcase. Smiling to myself, I went over to it. All of my favorite titles adorned the shelves, but I couldn't resist a quick re-read of Hogwarts, A History. I picked one of the chairs by the fire and curled up into it. Ginny would disapprove of book-reading now that I was working on "changing my appearance," but I didn't necessarily enjoy being eye candy and not much else. Certainly I could read in the privacy of my own room.
"Knock, knock," he said softly from the ornately carved door that separated our rooms. I rolled my eyes, but I didn't look up at him. Privacy my arse.
He fell silent, and I felt his eyes on me. I refused to acknowledge him. "Can I come in?" he said at last.
I sighed and turned the page I was reading with a flick. "Obviously you can, if you got the door open. For Merlin's sake, Harry, do you need my help with everything?"
Harry sighed and crossed over to me. I felt my palpitating heart accelerate when he kneeled down in front of where I sat and gently took the book from my fingers. As he placed it next to him on the rug, I finally looked up. He was silhouetted elegantly against the fire and I was fully aware of what I was doing as I let my eyes trace his perfect outline against the dancing flames. They licked at his broad shoulders and their shadows cascaded over his face in a smoky veil. I felt my heart crack when I realized how harshly I had shunned him, and yet I had an odd thirst to continue my anger with him. My mind scrambled to find something catty to say, but damn, he looked good...
"What did I do to you, 'Mione?" he asked with a sad sigh when he looked back up at me. I opened my mouth to retort, but my voice caught in my throat. I knew full well what he had done to me, but that didn't mean I could explain it.
I made several failed attempts to speak before I finally found words to put my emotions to. "You didn't back me up during Spin-the-Bottle."
Harry looked at me, his expression stunned, before shaking his head and laughing bitterly. "You're as fiery as a game of Exploding Snap because I didn't let you back out of Spin-the-Bottle?" he whispered, his eyes glinting in the shadows. "You seemed to enjoy yourself quite a bit once the game started."
I drew back, stung. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"For Merlin's sake, Hermione, do I have to help you with everything?" he asked mockingly. "Ever since you played that game, you've been traipsing around Hogwarts, acting--"
My ears had honed in on one word. A moment earlier I had been a mixture of hurt and apologetic, but now I was close to hating him again. "Traipsing?" I seethed as I gripped the sides of the armchair. "What are you insinuating, Harry Potter?"
He sighed. "I wasn't insinuating anything, Hermione, I was just telling you what I've seen. You're...you're putting on airs to impress people, and it's not who you are. I don't like it."
"You don't like it," I repeated slowly, numbed by his blatant audacity. He met my eyes, clearly unaware of the wrath he had just invoked. I took a few deep breaths to keep myself from causing him any real bodily harm. How did this boy, my best friend, have the capacity to make my head spin out of both anger and passion? Those types of emotions shouldn't be allowed in hormonal teenage girls who know how to cast Unforgivable Curses.
"Well," I said, my eyes closed and my breathing labored, "I appreciate your concern, but I'm a big girl, Harry, and I don't need you making my decisions for me."
"Hermione, I--" he began, but it was too late. The damage had been done. I held up my hand to silence him.
"Actually, Harry, I'm feeling rather tired. I think I'll go to bed now. Good night."
Without another word, I left him by the fireplace and went up the staircase to my bedroom as quickly as I could. I lay awake in bed until I heard him leave for his own dorm and close the last remaining connection between us. I was so confused...what I had felt between us at the party could not be explained, and because I had no explanation, I was lashing out at him. Then there was Ginny and the way Seamus looked at me whenever I passed him by, or the way the entire school was suddenly paying attention to me. And I knew far below me, the copy of Hogwarts, A History was laying forgotten on the floor. I closed tear-filled eyes and willed myself into a restless sleep.
~*~
The next morning in Transfiguration class, I purposefully avoided my usual table with Harry and Ron took a seat next to Seamus. He beamed and slung his arm around the back of my chair as I pasted a smile on my face and pretended not to notice Harry's scowl. Professor McGonagall looked back and forth between our tables before shrugging the unusual seating arrangement off and turning to the board.
"Today, we will be continuing our study of large-scale transfigurations. Please find your supplies and partner into groups of two and, using yesterday's notes, take turns attempting to turn your desk into a fishbowl. Bonus points will be awarded to the most creative team."
Seamus went first. I allowed myself a few genuine laughs as he turned our books into miniature statues of castles and mermaids and other odd fishbowl assortments. He had just turned my quill into a clump of seaweed when I realized we were running out of time.
"Um, Seamus?"
"Yes, love?" He asked as he scrutinized my ink bottle. I felt my face twist when he called me "love", but I decided to ignore his frivolity.
"We need to get the table done."
He turned and looked at me, eyebrows raised. "The table? Oh, yes, the table...I figured I'd leave that up to you, 'Mione."
'Mione? "Up to me?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. "We're supposed to be taking turns, Seamus, I--"
"Hey," he said softly with a charming smile as he came over and took my hands in his. Grinning devilishly, he leaned in close enough for me to feel his cheek brush against mine when he whispered, "You're the cleverest witch in the entire school, Hermione. Show off a little bit. remind them that you're just as brilliant as you are beautiful."
He stole a quick kiss as he pulled away and then turned his attention back to my ink. I blushed furiously; my head was screaming "He's using you!" but my heart was still trying to recover from being called beautiful. I didn't feel very beautiful, what with my hair pulled back in a mess of a pony tail and my face smudged with unidentifiable goo from Potions. But Seamus had said I was, and why shouldn't I believe him? I raised my wand and pointed it at the table, ready to turn it into the best buggering fishbowl McGonagall had ever seen...but something made me glance up. There was Harry, standing directly across from me, frozen entirely as Ron complained animatedly to him and attempted to change their toaster back into a table. Our eyes locked on each other, and for a moment, I wanted him to kiss me again, wanted to feel that fire for all it was worth instead of dousing it prematurely. Suddenly, I realized he was more than a best friend to me and that I would never look at him like a brother again...come to think of it, I couldn't remember a time when his mere presence didn't make my legs turn to jelly. Perhaps I had just gotten used to ignoring the feeling, since he would never see me as anything but Hermione. He would never look at me like Seamus did...but if it was something he would never do, why was he looking at me so peculiarly?
Seamus said something and I came back to my senses. Blushing furiously, I looked back to our table, trying to remember the spell I was supposed to use. My memory flailed wildly for its composure, and a word rose in my throat. Before I could stop it, my mouth opened. At that same exact moment, Seamus decided to reach across me for a supply and "accidentally" brushed his arm against my chest. I started, and my wand arm jerked, and the elusive spell finally jumped off of my tongue and gained its voice.
"Esse ranarum!"
There was a brilliant green flash that encompassed the entire room. A few people screamed, including myself as I shielded my eyes with my arm. When the light had dimmed I looked up and around the room, checking to see if I had caused any damage. My heart raced beneath my chest, and my brain begged for the spell to have hit a chair or a table or a wall, anything but a person.
"Hermione Granger!" Professor McGonagall shrieked. I winced and turned in her direction. The sight that met my eyes was enough to make me gasp and cover my mouth in shock.
I had turned Harry into a frog.