DISCLAIMER: JK ROWLING owns all of the characters in this story.
Author's Note: It's been a while, boy and girls, sorry if I'm a bit rusty. This is part one and hopefully I can start on part two soon. Alas, it's getting late. I wouldn't wanna muck up the best parts!
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She was exhausted. Worn out to the extreme. Never had Hermione Granger ever considered the fact that one could overwork themselves. Well, of course, there were exceptions...like Ronald for instance. But she? Hermione Granger? Gryffindor Prefect (soon to be Head Girl, thank you very much!), student extraordinaire? Never. But this hospital nonsense...oh who was she fooling, she relished in it. In the ache of her feet, in the dull thud of her temple, in the tight muscles in her back and calves...oh, if only everything could be this hard! Volunteering in a Muggle hospital was pretty much the only option she had if she wanted to get a feel for the medical profession these days...
Walking into her dark room, she immediately began stripping off her scrubs starting with her top. After she'd tugged it over her head, she rolled her neck to listen as several vertebra made satisfactorily audible `pops.' Casting the shirt aside, she dug her fingers into her shoulders and neck, massaging vigorously the knots taking up residence there. With a sigh, she kicked off her shoes and sat down on the edge of her bed. The room was still dark, she noticed, and suddenly there was a rustling sound coming from directly behind her on the bed.
She sprung into action and within mere milli-seconds she'd managed to grab her wand from her desk and train its tip toward the mysterious sound, "Who's there!" She heard soft breathing and quiet mumbling...sounds of sleep? "Lumos," she whispered. (Being seventeen had its perks, these days.) Stunned, she couldn't fight the smile that crossed her face when the figure of a dark haired boy sleeping peacefully in her bed came to light. She sat down carefully on the edge of the bed once more, and removed his glasses even more gently.
But what on earth was Harry Potter doing in her bedroom? In her bed? For Merlin's sake, in her town? Why wasn't he at Privet Drive? Does Dumbledore...? Dumbledore. She mentally cursed herself...how could she forget?
Momentary confusion, that's all it was, she told herself. Done chastising herself, she decided she ought to wake Harry and figure out this mess.
"Harry," she gently shook his shoulder, "Harry!" she finally hissed.
"I'm up, I'm up, what's going on?" he sputtered, flailing for his glasses and pushing back his messy black hair. She giggled softly at the sight of her best friend failing miserably as consciousness. "Hermione? Is that you?" She handed him his glasses, still giggling, as watched as he shoved them onto his face. Immediately, his mouth dropped open and he began making erratic pointing gestures, "Er, Her-her-hermione! Y-your top!"
"Oh, goodness," she smiled, standing and walking toward her bureau, "it's not any less than a bathing suit Harry. Now turn around while I change." She began throwing on and old t-shirt and a rather ruddy pair of boxer shorts as she asked, "What on earth are you doing here, Harry?"
"Something came up," he said, sounding muffled.
"Oh, that's a lovely answer. Mind explaining it to me, perhaps?" When she turned to give him one of her patented angry-stares, she found his face buried in a pillow. "Harry, you can look now," she smiled.
"Oh, well, it's just...something's...off."
"Off? You...what, flew-?" He nodded. "You flew all the way here because something was `off'?"
"Don't be mad, it's just..." he sighed, "Are you and Ron still..."
"Ron? Ronald Weasley? You flew all the way here to talk about Ron, Harry?" She honestly had no idea why she was jumping down Harry's throat about Ron.
Guilt? -her brain asked.
Oh, shove off! -she warned.
The truth was...things with Ron were bad. So bad. It wasn't as if Ron wasn't...friendly. He was an alright chap, when it came right down to it. He wasn't a very fair bloke, but if you were in trouble...oh, honestly, she was so in trouble. Thing with Ron were nice, yes, but she never lost the unshakable feeling that things with Harry would be better. But that was entirely out of the question. She'd been going over it on her mind for days since they left Hogwarts for the last time, venturing into their final summer as official students before their 7th year. Over and over in her head she kept telling herself that Ginny was right for Harry, that they had a lot in common and that this was an inevitable step...everyone had seen it coming. Except Hermione, of course. So she spent her evenings making pro/con lists...about Harry and Ginny, about she and Ron and, of course, about she and Harry. Lists. She had pages and pages of them shoved into the drawers of her desk.
Had she not always felt a sense of `settling' when it came to Ron? And now, wasn't Harry laying crumpled in her bed, asking about the `success' of she and Ron? Why...?
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"What about Ron and I?"
"Oh," he scratched his head, looking away from her, "it's just...well, Ginny..."
"Yes?"
"Well," he cleared his throat, stalling, "about three days into summer vacation...something happened."
"What happened, Harry?" she asked, sitting down at the foot of the bed and crossing her legs over one another.
"It went away, it just went away. Hermione...I think a...okay, don't get me wrong, I'm not accusing anyone. I just think a love spell may have been involved."
"Ginny? Use a love spell?"
"Well, er, I wasn't thinking it was Ginny, exactly, more like...Ron."
"Ron!?"
"I know, it's...stupid, I just...well, okay, hear me out. Ron obviously likes you, right? Well, what if he thought that I...well, that you and I...what if he thought there might be something there? Between us, I mean, and he was worried that I might come between you and him...or something..." he began trailing off.
"Harry-?"
"Oh! And also, he's been going on for years about Ginny and I getting together, right? That's better, isn't it? I mean...there's not reason for him to think that you and I...I mean, that we..."
"Absolutely! I mean, it's just silly."
"Absurd."
"Preposterous."
"Right?"
Hermione looked up at him slowly, melting in the emerald orbs of his eyes. How could she agree? How could she lie to him, looking right into his eyes like this? Yet, how could she look away now that she was entranced...
"Um, er, Hermione...there's something else I should mention."
Oh, thank Merlin! I'm saved from answering, she thought. "Oh?"
He was starting to fidget now and his face had turned a bright shade of red, one to rival Ron's during one of his famous angry moments. "I've been practicing my occlumency a lot lately...and also...I'm becoming quite confident in my legilimency skills, as well."
"Oh, that's....oh."
[TO BE CONTINUED!]
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