Chapter 8 - Like A Spoon
Disclaimer The Harry Potter universe and all the characters in it belong to J. K. Rowling. No infringement intended, just borrowing.
Later that night Hermione was sitting in Harry's bed reading her new edition of Under Your Spell. Ginny's copy was safe in her room; she had put a concealment charm on it so nobody could find or remove it.
"You're still reading that?" Harry asked, as he got into bed. "Are you sure you're not planning to use it on some poor, unsuspecting bloke?"
Hermione ignored his question. "Harry, I want you read this page."
He looked at her skeptically. "Why?"
"Just read it." She handed him the book, which was opened to the page about The Chest Monster.
Hermione watched him expectantly as he read the page. "Does it sound familiar to you at all?"
"You think this is the potion Ginny used on me?" Harry asked.
Hermione nodded.
"This does kind of describe the way I was feeling last year," said Harry. "It did feel like there was a monster in side of me whenever I saw Ginny. And I remember she was wearing a flowery scent - I first noticed it when we were staying at The Burrow that summer."
"Hmmm, I wonder," Hermione said. "When I talked to Ginny the night Ron and I broke up, she told me that she hadn't used the book yet…perhaps Mrs. Weasley was the one who made the potion for her? She did, after all have experience using it."
"Why would Mrs. Weasley do that to me?" Harry replied angrily.
"Because she wants you to marry Ginny; she wants to strengthen the family bloodline. She did make Ginny promise her when she was very ill that she would marry you, right?"
Harry sighed, and leaned back on the pillow. "I can't believe this. Mrs. Weasley is like a mum to me. I trusted her."
"I'm sure she didn't mean any harm to you, Harry. She knew the potion was safe if she used it before, on her husband. I suppose she thought if it worked on him, it would work on you as well."
"Maybe so, but I don't think I can trust her again. And this doesn't let Ginny off the hook either." Harry said, looking agitated.
"I'm sorry, Harry." Hermione said.
"What do you have to apologize for, you're not the one who's been lying to me all this time."
Hermione felt guilty, she had been lying to him about Ron; but then again, she wasn't trying to trick him into falling in love with her either.
By playing the role of the sainted, concerned friend?
Shut up.
Hermione closed the book and turned out her lantern. "Goodnight Harry."
"Hermione, aren't you forgetting something?" Harry asked.
"Oh, of course." Hermione remembered, leaning over Harry to kiss him goodnight.
On the forehead.
She had been doing that every night since his scar faded, unfortunately there had been no progress since. His scar was still a pale pink lightning bolt.
"You don't think it's working, do you?" Harry asked, doubt evident in his voice.
Hermione sighed. "Well, we haven't seen any progress in about a week…."
"And?" Harry had that tone where he seemed to know she wasn't telling him the whole story.
"I'm thinking that perhaps the kiss only works when the scar hurts. It was only after your nightmares you had a reaction to the kiss."
Why can't you say 'my kiss'?
"So I have to have another nightmare and wake up screaming in agony in order for this thing to work? I don't know about this, Hermione." Harry said, sitting up and shaking his head in frustration.
"Harry, listen to me. If you want to attempt to get rid of Voldemort, I think you're going to have to."
"But how am I going to have another nightmare? I can't just will it to happen."
Sometimes he's so thick.
"Did you ever notice that since I've been sleeping here beside you, you haven't had one?" She asked, a bit impatiently.
"Except for the night when you and I argued over Ginny, you mean." Harry replied. "So, you think we need to sleep apart for me to have another nightmare?"
Maybe he's not so thick after all.
"Yes. I hate to do this, but I think we need to test out my theory."
Harry sighed and lay back on the pillow. "Oh Merlin, I hope this doesn't turn out to be some weird coincidence, me only having nightmares when I sleep alone. What if it doesn't work again, Hermione? What if my scar gets worse, what if your kiss doesn't work again?"
"Harry, you do trust me don't you?" Hermione said, looking him in the eye.
"Of course I do, with my life." he replied, gazing back at her.
Even if you don't deserve it.
Stop it! This is an important moment.
"Then please do this. If not for me, do it for yourself." Hermione implored.
Harry sighed again. "Okay, I'll do it."
"Thank you," she said turning over and settling into bed. "Goodnight Harry."
"Um, Hermione, aren't you forgetting something?" Harry asked.
"What is it now?"
"Aren't you supposed to leave?" He asked gently.
Now who's being thick?
"Sorry, I, I thought maybe you wanted to start tomorrow night?"
"No time like the present, might as well get it over with."
Hermione got out of bed and walked to the door, turning back to see Harry looking at her with trepidation.
"It will be okay, Harry." She tried to sound cheerful as she left the room.
It better.
A couple of hours later, Hermione lay in her bed, wide-awake, listening for any hint of Harry's dream status. The house was dead silent except for Crookshanks purring loudly underneath her bed. Hermione almost missed the days when Mrs. Black's portrait would scream at her for having the audacity of being a mudblood. But the portrait had been quiet for months.
Hermione fell asleep, dreaming of ginger cats and portraits. She was walking in a corridor of wizard portraits and found one of a young man who looked like Harry. All of a sudden the portrait screamed her name.
She awoke with a start; she realized that the screaming was coming from across the hall. Filled with a strange mixture of terror and relief, Hermione grabbed her lantern, bolted from her bed and ran into Harry's room. He was covered in sweat and was still screaming her name.
Hermione shook him awake and Harry opened his eyes. "Hermione, you're alive?" he croaked.
"Yes, Harry, I'm alive." She reassured him.
He then clung to her as if his life depended on it. "I dreamt that you were dead. V-Voldemort killed you right in front of me. I couldn't move, couldn't save you."
He was shaking and sobbing. This was the first time Harry had shared any details of his nightmares since they were at Grimmauld Place, she realized.
"I'm not dead, Harry, I'm right here, right here." She responded, stroking his back and holding him tightly.
A minute or two passed and Harry stopped sobbing, his breathing slowed. Hermione suddenly remembered the purpose of this experiment. She pulled back to take a look at his scar; brushing some of his unruly dark locks out of the way with her fingertips.
"Harry - how is your scar?" She asked, her heart pounding.
He reached up to touch it. "It's throbbing again, but my head doesn't feel like it's going to split open like last time. How does it look to you?"
Hermione told him the truth. "It looks redder than it has in days, but no more red than it had before it started to fade."
"So we're back to square one." Harry said, crestfallen.
"Not necessarily." Hermione said, leaning in to kiss him.
She tried something a bit different this time, instead of just pressing her lips to the entire scar; she gave him little kisses from the top to bottom and then back again.
She pulled back and looked at him anxiously. "How is it now?"
"It's better." He was looking at her curiously. "Why did you kiss me like that?"
"I, I just wanted to be thorough - so I didn't miss a spot." Hermione blushed. "Was that okay?"
Right Granger, thorough.
"Yeah, it was fine, just different." He looked like he was pondering something. "So, I guess we wait until tomorrow to see if it worked, right?
"Right." she concurred. "So do you want me to stay?"
"Yes, please, I really don't want to have any more nightmares of you dying." He said, half joking.
Hermione turned off the lantern, climbed into her side of the bed and got under the covers. To her surprise, Harry snuggled next to her, like a spoon, putting his arm around her waist. She could feel his breath hit the sensitive spot on the nape of her neck. Hermione shivered but she was anything but cold.
"Are you okay?" he whispered.
"I'm fine," she replied, even though her heart was hammering inside her. It was kind of like The Chest Monster, she mused. She was glad she wasn't facing Harry because she didn't want him to see the smile that had crept across her face.