Hermione Granger, Florence Nightingale

Hermione Granger, Florence Nightingale

Author’s Note: So yeah, I finally came up with a title for this story. It’s taken me weeks to do so, but here we are! I did it! I can’t tell you how many chapters this will be, but the chapters should be a good length. I’d love to tell you I can post the next chapter soon, but I’ve got lots of editing to do, not to mention college in general. Classes can be pesty like that. They tend to want you to do work. So before I go to bed tonight, I post this, I offer this to my wonderful readers. I’d like to say I can post the next chapter sometime this weekend, but I can make no guarantees. It should probably (I hope) be up by some time mid-next week at the latest. So in the meantime, enjoy the first chapter please, ‘cause if you enjoy it, I’ll be happy!

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Harry Potter was sick. He didn’t know what he had, but he knew that no help was going to come from the Dursleys. He was about to send Hedwig to Ron and Hermione, asking for help, but he knew that the Dursleys would never let him bring either of them to the house.

“Hedwig,” he said, opening her cage. “Go stay with Ron for awhile.” He quickly scrawled out a note telling Ron that Hedwig needed some rest, and would probably benefit from spending some time out of the suburbs. Hedwig flew away, however reluctantly.

Harry gathered his belongings slowly, so as not to over-exert himself, and prepared to sneak out.

Under cover of darkness, Harry somehow managed to get out of the house without making enough noise to wake any of the Dursleys. Once he reached the curb, he sat down on his trunk and stuck out his wand.

The Knight Bus came screeching out of the night, and stopped on a dime by Harry. Stan Shunpike pulled Harry’s trunk aboard just after he pulled Harry aboard.

“You’re not lookin’ too good there,” he said. “Mebbe we should oughta take you to St. Mungo’s, eh?”

“No,” said Harry weakly. “I need you to take me to the Granger residence. I don’t know where it is, but that’s where I need to be.”

“No sweat, pally,” said Stan, clapping Harry on the back. “We’ll have you there in no time flat. In the meantime, just take a rest there on the bed.” Harry sat down on the bed and fell backwards onto the pillow. In no time flat he was dead asleep.

“Hey there,” said Stan as the Knight Bus screeched to a halt. “Wake up. This is the Granger residence.” The sun shone dreamily through the curtains of the Knight Bus, and Harry bolted upright.

“It’s morning?” He looked around, confused, and greatly regretting having sat up so quickly. His stomach threatened to leap up through his throat and throttle his brain, but he was able to fight it back down.

“We’ve been here three times already,” said Stan, helping Harry stand up. “This is the first time I’ve been able to wake you up.” Stan eyed Harry suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Harry. “Just help me off. I’ll take it from there.”

“Okay, you’re the boss.” Stan unloaded Harry’s trunk, and helped Harry down off the bus. With a loud bang, the Knight Bus was gone, and Harry sat in front of Hermione’s house on his trunk.

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Slowly but surely, Harry dragged his trunk up to the doorstep. Leaning on his trunk, Harry rang the doorbell. He sat down on his trunk wearily, and hoped he had made the right decision. He knew that if anybody could help him, it would be Hermione, and there wouldn’t be any kind of media sideshow as would ensue should Harry check into St. Mungo’s.

Harry looked up as the door opened. Hermione stood there in an old sweatshirt, jeans, and battered sneakers, looking very surprised.

“Harry?” She kneeled down in front of him, as he smiled weakly at her. “Harry, what’s wrong? You don’t look at all well.”

“I’m sick,” he said simply.

“Well what do you have?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t go to St. Mungo’s. Too many people, too many reporters.”

“Come on, let’s get you inside first. We’ll figure the rest out as we go.” Hermione helped Harry stand, and nearly carried him into the house. She set him down on the couch and went to get his trunk from the doorstep. “Harry,” she said as she dropped his trunk by the couch. “How on earth did you get here?”

“Knight Bus.”

“Did they carry your trunk for you?” Hermione’s gaze traveled back and forth from the trunk, to Harry, and back to the trunk.

“No. Took me forever, but I got it here myself.” Harry was obviously proud of this fact, and no matter how much Hermione didn’t like the idea of Harry working that hard when he was sick, she had to admire his persistence.

“Harry, where’s Hedwig?” Hermione had noticed the absence of Hedwig’s cage when she brought Harry’s trunk in.

“Sent her off to Ron,” said Harry. “Couldn’t carry her cage too.”

“Harry, you just cut yourself off from the wizarding world completely. Without Hedwig, I can’t write to anybody for help if I can’t figure out how to help you.” Hermione sighed. “I guess we’ll figure that out later.”

“I have faith in you, Hermione,” said Harry, leaning his head back on the couch. “You’ll think of something. You always do.”

“Thanks, Harry.” Hermione blushed. “I have to go call Mum. Maybe she can help me out.” She left the room to make the call, and Harry took a deep breath. He had never felt so miserable in his entire life. He felt weak all over, his pulse was racing, his stomach felt as if it were trying to wrest itself free from his body, and he felt like his innards were on fire.

Hermione walked back in with a cordless phone in her hand. Sitting down next to Harry, she felt his forehead, and gasped.

“Harry, you’re positively burning up!” She picked up the phone and started dialing. “I’m calling the doctor. Mum and Dad know you’re here now, so there won’t be any surprises. When the doctor comes, we can’t tell him that you ran away from home to get here. I’m going to tell him that you came for a visit, and you’ve been staying here for a few days, and you just got sick.” She put the phone to her ear, and explained the situation to whoever had picked up. While she was talking, she looked at Harry, concern showing in her eyes.

“Doctor Kaufman will be here in about half an hour,” she said, hanging up. “I need to get you upstairs into bed.” She helped Harry stand, and they slowly walked up the stairs, Hermione more carrying Harry than helping him. When they reached the guest bedroom, Harry sat down on the bed.

“Harry, if I get your pajamas, do you have enough strength to change? It would look awfully strange for you to be in bed with your clothes on.” Harry nodded. Hermione went back downstairs and lugged Harry’s trunk up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. “This would be so much easier if I could use magic,” she said ruefully. She rummaged through Harry’s trunk and pulled out his pajamas. Placing them on the bed next to Harry, she turned to leave the room.

“Hermione,” said Harry softly. Hermione turned to look at him. “Thank you.” She smiled.

“You’re welcome, Harry.” She turned around again and left, closing the door behind her.

A few minutes later, Hermione knocked on the door. “Harry, are you done changing?”

“I need some help,” he called through the door. Hermione hesitated. “I can’t close the buttons,” said Harry. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She opened the door to see Harry fumbling with the buttons on his pajama shirt. She walked to the bed and sat down next to him. She closed the buttons easily and looked questioningly at Harry. He held up his hands in explanation. They were shaking uncontrollably. Hermione’s eyes went wide.

Hermione helped Harry get into bed, and sat with him until the doorbell rang.

“That’ll be Dr. Kaufman,” said Hermione. She stood up and went downstairs to let him in.

Hermione came back upstairs with a man who seemed to be in his late thirties. He introduced himself as Dr. David Kaufman.

“Now, Harry, when did you first feel ill,” he asked, sitting down on the bed next to Harry.

“Last night,” said Harry, following the story that Hermione had worked out. “I thought maybe a good night’s sleep would make me feel better, but when I woke up this morning, I felt even worse.” Dr. Kaufman examined Harry, but couldn’t seem to come up with a diagnosis.

“That’s odd,” he said, scratching his head. “I have no idea what’s wrong with him. When I take his temperature, it’s normal, but I can tell he’s burning up. I think I should take you to the hospital, see if they can come up with something.”

“No!” Harry tried to sit up, but Dr. Kaufman held him down. “No hospitals!”

“Dr. Kaufman, can I speak with you for a minute?” Hermione gestured to the hall. They left the room. “He’s deathly afraid of hospitals,” she said softly, pretending to keep Harry from hearing her. “If he goes to the hospital, you won’t be able to calm him down enough to give him any tests.”

“Well, I can’t bring him to a hospital if he’s going to have that kind of a reaction, but I don’t know what I can do for him here.” He sighed. “I guess all I can say is that you should make sure he’s comfortable. If he gets worse, please let me know. If we have to, we’ll sedate him, but I’d rather not do anything that drastic unless I have no other choice.”

“I’ll keep you updated.” Hermione looked as if she was on the verge of tears. “Thank you, Dr. Kaufman.” As she closed the front door behind him, Hermione walked slowly back up to the room in which Harry rested.

“I don’t know what to do, Harry,” she said, sitting next to him on the bed. “I can’t send an owl to anyone, and there’s really no other way I can think of to contact anybody who could possibly help us. If only I had an owl right now.” She sighed. “I guess there’s not a whole lot I can do except keep you company and keep you comfortable until Ron decides to write me a letter.

For the next few days, Hermione would sit by Harry’s side, reading a book when he was asleep or too weak to talk. When he could talk, he did so with visible effort, so Hermione insisted he rest. Hermione would bring him cold rags for his forehead to try to keep him cool, and talk to Harry in a soft, soothing tone of voice to help him relax.

“You have a beautiful voice, ‘Mione,” croaked Harry.

“Shhhhh, just relax.” Hermione’s cheeks grew pink.

“‘Mione, do you think you could sing for me?” Harry squinted up at Hermione, his glasses sitting on the nightstand.

“I don’t know, Harry, I don’t think I sing very well.” Hermione found it nearly impossible to resist Harry’s request, but she really didn’t like her own singing, and was afraid Harry wouldn’t like it either.

Just then, a tapping came at the window. Hermione opened the curtains, and just on the other side of the window hovered Pigwidgeon, carrying a note from Ron.

A reprieve, thought Hermione, smiling internally. She opened the window to let the excited little bird in, and it set down on the arm of Hermione’s chair. She took the note, and promised Pig a treat as soon as she finished reading it. The tiny hoot which emanated from the tiny owl was much closer to a squeak than to any noise Hedwig had ever made. It was a simple note, the casual letter one drops to a friend when one hasn’t spoken to them in a few days. It seemed to be more an invitation to start a conversation than an actual letter. Hermione left the room briefly to get Pig’s treat. She returned a minute later, holding a treat in one hand, and a roll of parchment and a quill in the other. She gave Pig the treat, and began writing a letter to Ron, explaining the situation, and requesting that he notify Dumbledore. When she finished, she tied the letter to Pig’s leg, and the small bird took off to head for home, bearing his payload as a badge of pride.

“I think you’ll sing very well, ‘Mione,” said Harry softly.

Hermione groaned inwardly. She was hoping that he would have forgotten, or given up, or fallen asleep, or done something that would have meant she wouldn’t have had to sing.

“Harry, are you sure you want me to sing?”

“I’m sure.” He smiled. “I may be sick, ‘Mione, but my memory’s still as good as ever.”

“Okay, Harry. I’ll sing.” She sighed. Without even trying, Harry had made her feel guilty enough to succumb to his request. “What do you want me to sing?”

“Dunno, just sing something you like.”

“Okay.” She began to sing “The Blizzard”, by Judy Collins, and Harry smiled.

“I’ve never heard anything so beautiful,” he said softly. About halfway through the song, he fell asleep, and Hermione stopped singing. She sat back in her chair and sighed deeply.

“How did he do that to me,” she wondered to herself. “Why is it that I couldn’t say no to him?” She sighed. “It’s probably just because he’s sick. Look at me, I’m talking to myself.” She laughed quietly, and picked up her book.

Hermione Granger, Florence Nightingale

Author’s Note: Okay, so midweek didn’t work quite as well as I had hoped. I was reading through the chapter, and decided that I really wasn’t happy with the end of the chapter at all, and when I’m not happy with something I write, nobody’s allowed to see it. Sooooooo, I had to rewrite the end of this chapter, and it took me longer than I expected. Sorry, all. But here it is now, and I must say, thanks muchly for all of the reviews! I really love hearing that people are enjoying my story.

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The next day, Hermione had just sat down by Harry’s bed when she heard a loud crash in the kitchen. She picked up her wand and stood up. She had decided when she had first come home for the summer that it would be best if she kept her wand with her at all times. Death Eaters were getting bolder and bolder, and she was determined not to be caught unprepared. She made her way downstairs as quietly as possible, and, upon reaching the bottom of the staircase, whirled around, to find Madame Pomfrey standing in her kitchen.

“Miss Granger, put your wand away,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal of the danger that Hermione had obviously perceived. “Here, drink this now.” She thrust a flask of a potion at Hermione. Hermione took it and drank it. “If you contracted it from him, that’ll kill it. If you didn’t, it will make sure you won’t. Now, take me to him.”

“You could have given me some warning you were coming, you know.” Hermione was a bit irritated. Nevertheless, she led Madame Pomfrey up the stairs.

“There was no time,” said Madame Pomfrey, sounding every bit as irritated as Hermione. “If I’m correct, Mister Potter has the Wizard’s Flu, and it is certainly not something to be trifled with. I had to come as soon as I heard.” As soon as they entered Harry’s room, and Madame Pomfrey saw Harry, she rushed to his side, scowling. “And why didn’t you call me sooner? This is not a game, Miss Granger. This is a very serious illness.”

If there was one thing that Hermione couldn’t stand, it was having her intelligence questioned, especially in a situation in which she had done everything that was in her power, even by a teacher.

“I had no owl, I’m not connected to the Floo network, and nobody who lives anywhere around me does, to the best of my knowledge. With all due respect, Madame Pomfrey, how exactly was I supposed to call you sooner?” Hermione was fuming. “I never once thought that this was a game. Harry means the world to me, and I did everything I could think of to help him, every step of the way. I’m sorry, but teacher or not, I will not listen to you question my devotion to Harry.”

“Yes, well, it appears that you did do something that was very helpful to Mister Potter. You were the one keeping him cool, I suppose?”

“Yes.” Hermione was beginning to cool down herself, realizing that she had probably just gotten as close to an apology as she was going to get.

“Well, I can give him something to help, but there’s not much I can do at this stage. It’ll have to run it’s course. If I were to give him what I gave you, it would kill him. The virus is already too prolific.” She gave Hermione a potion. “Give this to him as soon as he wakes up. If he doesn’t wake up in an hour, wake him up. It would be best if he awoke of his own volition, but he needs this soon. After you give it to him, keep giving him cool rags, and let him sleep. He should recover without a problem.” She handed Hermione a small bag. “You have been temporarily connected with the Floo network. If he gets worse, contact me immediately.” And with a crack, she disappeared.

Harry woke up about half an hour later, and Hermione gave him the potion. From the look on his face when he drank it, Hermione concluded that it didn’t taste very good. Still, he drank it without complaint. Soon, he was asleep again.

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That night, after Hermione’s parents were asleep, she crept back into Harry’s room, and sat by his bed. He was tossing and turning, still asleep, but not any kind of restful sleep.

“Mione, no,” he mumbled, and Hermione’s eyes widened. Suddenly, his back arched, and he bolted upright, his eyes wide open. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he whirled around.

“Hermione, where am I?”

“You mean you don’t remember?”

Harry shook his head.

“You’re at my house. You were very sick. You just showed up, asking me for help. You’ve been out for quite awhile. How do you feel?”

“Better, now that I’m awake. I mean, I don’t feel all that sick anymore, just a little weak.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I just had the most horrible dream though. It started out okay. We were at Hogwarts, in the Gryffindor common room, and we were sitting together on the couch. We were…” He blushed momentarily. “We were talking. Then Ron comes in and tells us we have to get outside. When we get outside, Voldemort ambushes us, and he…he…” Harry buried his face in his hands.

“It’s okay, Harry,” said Hermione as she put her arms around him. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’m right here.”

“I…I just don’t think I could go on if I lost you,” he said softly.

“You’ll never lose me, Harry. I’ll always be with you.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione. Fighting to hold back her surprise, Hermione silently put her arms around Harry.

When he pulled back, his face was red.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be sorry, Harry,” said Hermione in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone. “Everybody needs support sometimes.”

Harry’s eyes were beginning to droop, and Hermione smiled.

“Sleep, Harry. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Without thinking, she kissed him on the forehead and left.

Harry watched her go, in a state of dazed shock.

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Harry awoke to the touch of Hermione’s hand on his shoulder.

“I brought you some breakfast,” she said, setting a tray down next to him.

“You don’t need to do that,” said Harry, pushing himself into a sitting position with obvious effort. “I could have come down.”

“Harry, you’re still weak. You need to stay in bed.”

“I’m fine,” he said impatiently. He started to move to stand up, but Hermione restrained him.

“Harry, you’re really going to hurt yourself if you try to stand up now.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “How about if you hold onto my arm? Will that make you feel better?”

“I suppose.” Hermione took hold of Harry’s arm uneasily.

Harry laboriously swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Shakily, he stood up, and promptly toppled over onto Hermione.

“Sorry.” Harry turned bright red.

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “You can get up now, Harry.”

“No, I really can’t,” said Harry softly.

“Here, let me help.” Hermione put her hands on Harry’s shoulders, and rolled them both over, so that she was on top of him. She promptly scrambled off of him, and offered her hand. He took it, and Hermione helped him back up into bed.

“Guess I should have listened to you,” said Harry, blushing.

“It’s okay,” shrugged Hermione, although her flushed face showed she wasn’t quite as comfortable as she would have had Harry believe.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Hermione,” said Harry, as he started to eat the food she had brought him.

“No problem, Harry.” Hermione smiled. “I know you’d have done the same for me.” Harry smiled back at her, and they sat in silence for awhile while Harry ate.

That day, Hermione was suspiciously absent from Harry’s bedside. She had, however, left him several books, including Animal Farm, which Harry quickly discovered he enjoyed quite a bit. By the time lunchtime came around, and Hermione brought in a tray with food on it, Harry didn’t even notice her presence until she set the tray down on the bedside table. He then realized he had been reading all morning.

“Enjoying the book?” Hermione smiled as she sat down next to the bed.

“It’s excellent,” he replied, setting it down.

“Here,” she said, handing him a bookmark from the bedside table. “Putting books down face down like that when they’re open can damage the spine. None of that in this house.” Harry smiled, and put the bookmark into the book, closing it and setting it down next to him.

“I guess I’m not surprised that you have such reverence for books in this house,” he said with a smile.

“About as much as there is for Quidditch at the Burrow.” She grinned back at him, and handed him the tray with lunch. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much today.”

“It’s okay,” said Harry, as he swallowed his first bite. “I don’t expect to be the center of your attention. I can deal with being by myself.”

“No,” insisted Hermione sternly. “I refuse to treat you anything like that horrid family of yours. I’ll be around more this afternoon, I promise.”

“Well, it’ll be nice to have company,” he said, eating happily. Although it was really just a sandwich, Harry couldn’t really remember ever enjoying lunch quite as much as he was at that moment.

After lunch was over, Hermione disappeared again, and Harry went back to Animal Farm. By the time Hermione returned, Harry was absolutely enraptured in the book, and didn’t even notice her face in the door. She knocked, and still got no response from him.

“Harryyyyyyyy,” she said softly, a smile on her face. “You in there somewhere?”

“Hmm?” Harry looked up from the book. “Oh, sorry, Hermione.”

“You’re turning into me there, Harry,” she said, laughing softly. “Just can’t get your attention away from a book.” Harry smiled, and put the bookmark into the book, setting it down next to him.

“You really don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to,” he insisted.

“I want to, Harry. You’re not my best friend for nothing, you know.” She smiled. “Besides, I have something here I think you’ll like.” She entered the room, carrying a cane.

“Not sure I like that,” said Harry, frowning.

“Well, after today’s incident, I think you need a little more help than I can provide by myself if you’re going to be moving around at all.” She held up the cane. “This here is your key to the rest of the house, and if you want to get up and about and out of that bed, I insist that you use it.”

“What are we waiting for,” said Harry, throwing off the sheets. “Let’s get started.”

Author’s Note (Part Two): So yeah, can anybody guess what it was Harry and Hermione were really doing in Harry’s dream? (Just remember, this is a PG-13 story)

Hermione Granger, Florence Nightingale

Author’s Note: I’m really sorry it’s taking me so very long to update, but classes lately have been more or less hell-bent on breaking me. Even on spring break, on which I have been for this week, I’ve had so much to do that I could barely even think about this story. I promise this will be the last time I do this to you. I won’t take so long to update anymore. I’m really sorry.

(By the way, this chapter comes to you now courtesy of MandaEvelyn, who gave me that last kick in the butt I needed to actually get down to typing.)

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“How are you feeling this morning,” asked Hermione, poking her head into the room.

“Better, I think,” replied Harry.” He had been gaining strength over the past week, and, with help, had begun to walk around the house with the cane. He still needed to sit for quite awhile afterwards, but he was making noticable progress every day.

“I’m really glad you’re doing so well,” she said, sitting next to him on his bed and looking down at her feet. “I was really worried about you when you first got here. Part of me was afraid you weren’t going to make it. I never let myself believe that, but the fear was always there.” She looked up at him, smiling. “But it’s been nice having you around, especially since you’ve been up and about. I like being with my parents, but it’s horribly boring during the day when they’re at work.”

“I’d much rather be here than with the Dursleys, believe me,” replied Harry, chuckling.

“You feel up to a walk?”

“You coming with me?”

“Of course. Always.” Harry smiled at this.

“So where are we going? Can we start with the kitchen?”

“Oh, Harry, you’re starting to sound like Ron. Thinking with your stomach.”

“I am not. I just need to build up my strength. You said so yourself.”

“Well, okay. To the kitchen it is.”

Hermione prepared Harry a small meal, and sat down next to him while he ate.

“I’ve planned a nice route for us around the neighborhood,” she said. “It’s got plenty of benches along the way if you need to rest, and it goes by the park if you want to sit there for awhile.”

“That sounds great, Hermione.”

The walk went slowly, with Harry stopping to rest often. The cane helped a great deal, but Harry apparently preferred leaning on Hermione. When they got to the park, they sat together under a tree, enjoying the warm weather. When Hermione leaned on Harry’s shoulder, he reached around her, and rested his arm on her shoulders, pulling her closer to him, allowing her to lean on his chest.

“Harry?” Hermione looked up after they had been sitting quietly for nearly half an hour. His eyes were closed, but his breathing told Hermione he was still awake. “You want to stay here, or head back?”

“I think here is just fine,” he said, without opening his eyes. He smiled. “I’m quite comfortable right here.” He gave Hermione a half-hug with the arm around her shoulders, and she smiled.

“You know, Hermione,” he said softly. “I can’t remember the last time I was this relaxed.”

“I’m not surprised,” she replied. “This is my favorite spot in the park. I like to come here to read.”

“It’s like nothing else even exists. It’s just us here, and I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

“Me too,” whispered Hermione.

After awhile, they agreed they should probably head back to Hermione’s house, but they took it very slowly, even more so than before, and as it turned out, on the way back, Harry didn’t even need to stop and rest.

“Harry, what would you say to heading to the mall tomorrow?” Hermione picked at Harry’s shirt, handed down from Dudley, so it was, of course, miles too big for him. “You really need some clothes that will fit you.”

“That’s not a bad idea, but I don’t have any money. I only have wizarding money.”

“That’s okay, Harry, I’ll pay for it, and you can pay me back.”

“No, that’s okay, I don’t want to put you out.”

“Harry, my parents are both dentists. I think we can afford it.”

“Okay then, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. We can’t have you running around in tents all summer.”

The next day, Harry was woken up early by Hermione so they could get a ride to the mall from her parents on their way to work.

“We’ll take the bus back,” said Hermione as they got out of the car. “That way, we can go home whenever you want, okay Harry?”

“Okay, but as long as I get a chance to rest every now and then, we should be okay.”

“Sure thing. The mall has lots of benches. The only trick will be finding one that isn’t being used by a couple at the time.” She smiled at Harry, and he laughed.

“They’re the broom closets of the Muggle world, are they?”

“Right. And movie theatres are the empty classrooms.”

They spent most of the rest of the afternoon looking for clothes for Harry. Hermione did on occasion drag him into a store in which she wanted to look around, but Harry didn’t object in the least, and tried to give honest opinions whenever Hermione tried something on. It wasn’t hard. She looked amazing in most everthing, and Harry was astounded. His best friend had changed significantly over the years, and the fact that she wasn’t wearing the form-obscuring robes of Hogwarts any longer, the changes through which she had gone were quite obvious to Harry. He tried his hardest not to stare too much, although he suspected he had been caught on several occasions, judging by how Hermione’s cheeks would turn a brilliant crimson.

Finally, towards the end of their shopping excursion, Hermione stopped Harry, and pointed towards a sporting goods store.

“We’ve got a pool nearby, Harry, in the park. I think you should have a swimsuit, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” said Harry, realizing how much harder it would be to disguise his recognition of the changes in Hermione’s body when they were covered by that much less clothing. He was a bit wary about seeing Hermione in a swimsuit, mostly because he was afraid of what his reaction would be. Harry was not oblivious to what was going on in his own mind, and he didn’t want Hermione to think he was ogling her like a common teenager. She was his friend, and he didn’t want to jeopardize that at all.

“Come on, Harry, let’s try some on. It’ll be fun!” Harry followed her into the store, and towards the swimwear section. Hermione, noticing his reluctance, stopped. “What’s the matter, Harry?” She looked concerned, and Harry knew he had to think quickly.

“I…uh…I don’t really know how to swim very well,” he said quietly. It was true, but far from the cause of his reluctance. “The Dursleys didn’t exactly consider swimming a necessary skill for me. I was, after all, a freak, and, if they had any say in the matter, headed for some insane asylum. Not much call for swimming skills there. The only reason I did so well in the second task in fourth year was because of the gillyweed. It sort of gave me a swimming instinct, but it didn’t last after the gillyweed wore off.”

Hermione’s eyes darkened at the mention of Harry’s mistreatment at the hands of his Aunt and Uncle.

“Well,” she said softly, obviously putting effort into keeping her voice level. “I happen to think swimming is a very important skill for you to have, so we can work on that together.” Her eyes brightened. “And if we’re going to do that, you’re definitely going to need swimming trunks.” She took hold of his wrist, and pulled him towards the swimwear section. Harry sat on a bench in the aisle and set down the bags he had been carrying. Hermione had tried to convince him that she could take bags, but he insisted that even though he wasn’t up to full strength, he was certainly capable of carrying a few bags. He was starting to regret that, though.

“What’s the matter, Harry?” Hermione turned and saw Harry flexing his fingers.

“Bags are getting a little heavy,” he replied.

“Okay, I’ll take them for awhile after we finish here.”

“You don’t have to take all of them.”

“Why not? You did.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Look, Harry, I know you insisted that carrying the bags helped you build up your strength, but if you overdo it, you’re just going to end up hurting yourself. I’m going to take the bags after we’re done here, so you can have a rest, and concentrate on just walking.” She turned back to look at the rack. “Besides, you know me. What do you think your chances are of convincing me of otherwise now? I’ve made my decision.”

Harry sighed. She was right. She could be extraordinarily stubborn, and he had virtually no chance of changing her mind.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Good. Now, I’ll be right back, I’m going to try this on.” She picked something off the rack that Harry couldn’t see, and disappeared into the dressing room. A minute or two later, she emerged wearing a navy blue bikini that nearly made Harry choke. Never had he seen so much of Hermione, and never had he imagined she would wear such a thing.

“It looks bad, doesn’t it,” she asked, wrinkling her nose at Harry’s silent reaction.

Harry was simply dumbfounded. A bikini was certainly a far cry from the bulky robes in which he was used to seeing her.

“No…no, Hermione, it looks brilliant.” Harry tried desperately to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound stupid. “I’m just not used to seeing you in a bikini.”

So much for that idea. Nice one, Harry, he thought.

“You don’t think I look good in a bikini?” She looked down at herself.

“No! I mean, yes! I mean…” Harry took a deep breath. “I think you look great in a bikini. I’m just not used to it is all.”

Hermione blushed and ducked back into the dressing room. When she came back out a minute later, she was fully dressed, much to Harry’s silent relief. She moved to put the bikini back on the rack, but Harry stopped her.

“No, Hermione, you really do look terrific in that.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No. I’m not just saying that.”

She smiled, and made a point of putting it on the bench next to Harry to show she would indeed buy it. She offered her hand to Harry.

“What?” Harry looked at her hand, confused.

“Come on, Harry. We came in here to get you swimming trunks. You can’t look at what they have sitting on the bench.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” he replied, taking her hand and standing up. He picked up the cane and started over towards the rack where the men’s swimming trunks were on display.

“Hermione, I don’t actually know what size I am,” he said, eyeing the different size labels on the swimming trunks.

“Well, that’s easy enough to figure out,” she said as she started to pick pairs of trunks off the rack. “Just try on one of each size, and whatever fits you best, that’s your size.”

After they determined Harry’s size, Harry suggested he go with the pair he had tried on to figure out his size. Hermione, however, was not inclined to agree.

“Harry,” she said, shaking her head. “You can’t just buy the first pair you pick up.”

“Why not?” Harry looked down at the trunks he was wearing.

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione covered her mouth to disguise her smile. “I’m sorry, but those trunks are not right for you. You definitely need another pair. I just grabbed those off the rack. The fact is, they’re absolutely horrid.”

“Oh. Well.” Harry shrugged. “I guess I need help then, ‘cause I thought these were fine.”

“Sit down, Harry,” Hermione laughed. “I’ll go through the rack and find something for you.”

Harry sat down, and marvelled at Hermione, looking through the rack, examining swimming trunks as if they were Ancient Runes. In all the time he’d known her, for some reason, he never even considered the fact that she did this. Well, she has to, he thought. She has to have clothing for when she’s not at Hogwarts. She can’t very well run around naked... His train of thought stopped dead, as if somebody had built a brick wall across the tracks. He had never even thought of thinking of Hermione in anything resembling that fashion, and it took him completely by surprise. The level of shock in which he was placed by the errant image was such that he completely lost all track of his surroundings.

“Harry? Are you okay?” Harry looked up. Hermione was standing over him with a couple of pairs of swim trunks in her hands, looking at him with deep concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said I found a couple pairs for you to try on.” She looked as if she was examining him. “Are you sure you’re okay? You drifted off into a daze.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, trying to keep from blushing. He stood up and took the swimming trunks from Hermione.

After Harry tried them all on, and Hermione approved them, they went and checked out. True to her word, Hermione took the shopping bags, although Harry was actually able to convince her to let him take a couple of them. On the bus ride back, there was only one available seat, and Harry tried to insist that Hermione take it, but she refused, insisting that he should rest.

When they got back, Harry realized that he was in fact quite tired, and decided to lie down for a little while. When Hermione went upstairs with the bags, he laid down on the couch, and by the time she returned, he was fast asleep.

“Sleep well, Harry,” she whispered, smiling, and kissed him softly on the forehead.

Hermione Granger, Florence Nightingale

Author’s Note: So to make up for my previous lapse, I got a chapter out for you for tonight. It’s not long, but I think you’ll enjoy it. I really enjoyed writing it. Not entirely sure how many more chapters there are going to be. It’ll either be one more or two more. Depends on what happens when I write it. Also depends on when I can write it. Classes are starting again now, and I’ve got three weeks of classes before finals, so I have to really buckle down and study, so I really don’t know when I’ll have time to write. I’ll do my best to make some time though.

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The next day, Hermione convinced Harry to go to the pool to try out their new swimwear. She didn’t understand why he was initally reluctant, but then, she was not privy to his thoughts pertaining to the memory of her in a bikini. He was scared to death he was going to say something stupid, and embarrass either himself or his best friend, or quite possibly both. In the end, however, he gave in, because he had no valid reason he could give as to why he didn’t want to go.

Harry, in his own room, began to change, and tried his hardest not to think about the fact that Hermione was changing into the same bikini she tried on and purchased at the mall. It was a bit like trying not to think about pink elephants, though. When he finished changing, he headed down to the sitting room, where Hermione was waiting, in a t-shirt and shorts. Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief that he didn’t have to deal with Hermione in a bikini just yet.

“So, Harry, you ready to go?” Hermione stood up.

“Sure,” replied Harry, picking up his cane as they headed out the door.

As they approached the pool, Hermione began to search the faces present to see if she recognized anybody.

“See anybody you know?”

“Just a girl I knew when I was in school before Hogwarts,” she said. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not introduce you to her. We didn’t exactly exist on the best of terms.” She frowned at the memories. “I wasn’t what you’d call popular. I always got good grades, and the other kids got jealous, and I got picked on a lot.”

“That’s fine.” He shrugged. “But surely she’s gotten past that now, no?”

“Not really. It doesn’t help that when I go to the park, I usually have a book with me. I’ve been more or less labeled “The Bookworm”, and she’s the kind of girl who likes to show her social superiority every chance she gets.”

“Okay, then we’ll ignore her.”

“I don’t know about this, Harry.” Hermione was beginning to look worried. “She won’t pass up a chance to try to humiliate me if she sees me. Maybe we should come back tomorrow.”

“No.” Harry spoke very firmly. “You’re giving her too much power, Hermione. I don’t think we should let somebody else dictate what we do.”

“Well…okay.” Hermione agreed reluctantly.

Almost as soon as they entered the pool area, the girl noticed them, and made her way towards them, the arrogant smile on her face reminding Harry a little too much of Malfoy for his own comfort.

“Hermione, how nice to see you again,” she said with an expression so sickeningly sweet Harry was surprised she wasn’t melting in the sun.

“Sharon,” said Hermione, nodding a hello, and hoping that would be the end of that. It wasn’t.

“Tsk, Hermione. I suppose those books you’re always poking your nose into don’t teach you anything about manners. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your…friend, here?” She looked Harry up and down, leering at him suggestively. He felt as if she could see through his clothing, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He supposed that was how girls felt when guys were checking them out, and he resolved never to do it again.

“Sharon, this is Harry. Harry, meet Sharon.”

“My oh my, does the Bookworm actually have a boyfriend?” Sharon put on a shocked expression, and Harry felt a hot fury building. He didn’t allow Malfoy to get away with making fun of Hermione, and he would be damned if he was going to give this prissy, arrogant, valley girl a pass. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry stepped forward.

“And what if I am?” Harry growled. “Hermione is a wonderful girl. She’s smart, and she’s beautiful, and she treats people the way she would want to be treated.”

Sharon retreated slightly when Harry stepped forward, but she recovered, and was wearing a skeptical expression.

“Uh-huh,” she said, examining her nails. “Listen, Harry, it sounds like you’re a good friend and all, but you’re not fooling anybody. Let’s be honest with each other. The only way the Bookworm here is ever going to have a boyfriend is if that cat of hers turns into a guy, and even then it seems…unlikely.” Harry looked at Hermione, and she looked as if every word Sharon said had been a knife to her heart. He turned back to Sharon, who was wearing an arrogantly superior expression.

Without another word, Harry turned back to Hermione, pulled her to him, and pressed his lips to hers. Hermione’s eyes shot wide open, and when Harry pulled back, she looked dazed. Sharon looked for all the world like Harry had just kissed a mutilated corpse, and the horror on her face was the most satisfying thing Harry had seen in quite a long time. He took Hermione’s hand, and led her past Sharon, who was still in shock.

Hermione was still in a bit of shock as well. She followed Harry, but did so as if it was only her subconscious mind keeping her upright.

Harry chose two chairs by the poolside, and sat down on one of them, Hermione sitting on the adjacent chair.

“Hermione,” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, snapping out of it. “Fine. Harry, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t just going to let her pick on you like that. Nobody should have to go through that.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Listen, I’m sorry. I know I probably should have found a different way to get her to stop, but…”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Hermione cut him off. “You got her off my back for the first time in years. I really appreciate it.” She blushed. “Although, I have to say, I certainly didn’t expect that particular…solution.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, turning red. “I just figured the only way to shut her up would be, well, I dunno.” Hermione stood up.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek. Her face was still bright red, but she was smiling. “Now, what say we get into the water? I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely boiling out here.” And with that, she turned around, and pulled her shirt over her head. Sure enough, she was wearing the navy blue bikini she had just bought the day before. She pulled her shorts off as well, and, leaving her clothing on her chair, turned to Harry. She sighed when she saw he was still sitting on his chair, not having moved a muscle.

“Come on, Harry, you’re not going to swim wearing your shirt. Off with it.” Either she didn’t know that Harry was absolutely captivated by her, or she was trying to pretend he wasn’t. The fact that her face was still bright red, however, seemed to point to the second of the two options.

Harry, realizing that resistance was indeed futile, removed his shirt. He stood up, still rather shakily. He wasn’t going to be able to bring his cane into the pool, and he was still slightly unsure of himself without it. Hermione, however, offered her arm for support, which Harry gladly accepted.

Hermione guided Harry into the water, in the shallow end. She decided it would be best to first get him comfortable in the water. She slowly brought him out to the deeper end, and began to show him basic strokes. He learned rather quickly, although since he was still weak, he was not a particularly powerful swimmer yet. However, after not too long, Harry and Hermione were splashing around, laughing, and generally enjoying themselves.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked as Hermione headed towards the ladder.

“I’m going to stretch out for a little while and get some sun,” she replied, climbing up the ladder. Harry tried desperately to focus on anything but her rear end. “You can entertain yourself for a little while, can’t you?”

“Yeah.” He started to practice his swimming strokes, doing short laps, as Hermione sat down in the chair. At one point, he looked up at her, and was absolutely flabbergasted.

She really is a girl, he thought, and then instantly berated himself. Of course she’s a girl, we’ve been through all this already. But wow, is she ever a girl. Harry realized he was staring, and quickly turned away. He started doing laps again for a little while, but it was getting a bit boring without Hermione, so he climbed out of the pool. Making his way back to the chair slowly, he sat in his chair, and reflected how much better it felt to be in the water. He snuck a glance over at Hermione and found that she was lying on her stomach, her arms under her head. What made his breath catch in his throat, however, was that Hermione’s bikini top was untied, the strings lying off to either side. He quickly looked away, his heart trying to thump out a heavy metal beat.

“Hey, done swimming?” Harry turned to see Hermione looking at him, smiling.

“It got kinda boring without you.”

“Aww, I’m sorry, Harry.” She reached behind her back and tied her bikini, sitting up. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, shrugging. “I didn’t feel neglected. But what say we head back soon?”

“Sure.” She began to gather her belongings. “I take it you’d like to leave now?”

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” Harry stood up, pulled his shirt on, and picked up his cane. He leaned in close to Hermione. “I want you to giggle,” he whispered.

Hermione looked at him, confused.

“Sharon is watching us, and I want you to giggle.” He smiled, and Hermione complied. He couldn’t help but think how cute she was when she giggled. It wasn’t something she did often, but it made her look absolutely adorable.

“Now, when you stand up, I want you to hold my hand as we walk out,” he whispered, offering his hand. Hermione took it, and stood up. He laced his fingers between hers, and they began walking to the exit. Hermione saw Sharon scowling from where she was sitting, and Harry was glad to see Hermione grin widely.

“So long, Sharon,” she said sweetly as they passed the girl. Sharon gave a short wave, which spoke volumes.

As they exited the park, Hermione let out a short, triumphant laugh.

“Thank you so much, Harry. That was excellent. I’ve never been able to actually win with her, and now I have.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Harry tried not to react, but his face turned a very deep red. Hermione smiled almost imperceptibly.

Hermione Granger, Florence Nightingale

Author’s Note: This is a short chapter, but I really wanted to get this out for you, my faithful readers. I’m wrapping it up now, there should only be one more chapter after this one. Enjoy, all.

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When they arrived back at Hermione’s house, they both showered and changed. Harry walked into the sitting room, where Hermione was already sitting, her hair still wet from her shower, but not quite dripping. Harry thought it made her look adorable. She was sitting quietly, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes focused on her hands determinedly.

“Hermione, are you okay?”

“Hmm?” She looked up at him. “Oh. Yeah. I was just thinking.”

“About what?” Harry sat down on the sofa next to Hermione.

“Nothing.” Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked away.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” While it wasn’t unlike Hermione to lose herself in her thoughts, it most often occurred when she was in the middle of a homework assignment. She rarely got lost in her thoughts when she was just sitting around.

“I’m fine.” She stood up suddenly and stuck her hands in her pockets. “Do you want some lunch?” Harry eyed her suspiciously. “What?” She asked, her cheeks turning pink again.

“Hermione, this isn’t like you,” said Harry. “Something’s wrong, I know it. I may not be the most observant guy in the world, but I know you well enough to know that this is not how you act.” He stood up and looked her in the eyes.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, although certainly not convincingly. Harry thought for a moment, then decided that if she didn’t want to tell him what was wrong, he wasn’t going to force the issue.

“If you insist,” he said, shrugging. He followed Hermione into the kitchen, and they had a quiet lunch.

Dinner that night with Hermione’s parents was also quiet, and Harry noticed they kept shooting each other quick glances. No questions were asked, however, so Harry was more or less left to his own thoughts. Trying to figure out Hermione’s bizarre behavior of the day, he found himself concluding it had something to do with what happened at the pool. She had only started acting oddly after they had returned. Daft as he could be at times, Harry Potter was not always a moron, and he soon concluded that the kiss had had quite the effect on his best friend.

That night, Harry lay in bed, unable to sleep. All he could think about was Hermione. How cute she was with her hair wet. How much he loved to see her lost in thought. How beautiful her voice sounded when she sang. How soft her lips were.

Her lips really are soft, he thought, amazed. This is Hermione I’m thinking about. Hermione. My best friend. And I can’t stop thinking about her lips. He marveled at the fact that he was not freaked out about the concept at all. This is amazing. He laughed to himself. Hermione.

It was a long time before Harry fell asleep, but he slept better than he had for years. His dreams were of Hermione.

Harry sat up. It was morning. Earlier than he had been waking up, but there was no way he was falling asleep again. The promise of seeing Hermione was too great. He had finally come to a decision. He was going to tell her. He was scared to death of what she might say, terrified that she would turn out to feel nothing but friendship for him. Nevertheless, he knew he had to try.

“This is why I’m a Gryffindor,” he said to himself. “I was made a Gryffindor so I could do this.” He ran his fingers through his hair. Looking at the clock, he realized that Hermione’s parents were already at work. They were alone in the house. Suddenly, he had an overwhelming urge to see Hermione. Starting to reach for the cane at the side of the bed, he was struck with a sharp desire to be rid of it. He wasn’t crippled. He was getting stronger every day. It was high time he started walking on his own.

He stood up, a bit shaky, but stable enough to stand reliably. He moved slowly down the hall towards Hermione’s bedroom. He tapped on the door, too lightly to wake her up if she was asleep, but hard enough so that she would hear it if she was awake, to make sure he didn’t walk in at a time when it would be…embarrassing. When no reply was forthcoming, he pushed the door open slowly. He peeked in to see Hermione lying in bed, fast asleep, her back to him. As he continued to push the door open, it creaked. Hermione stirred, and the breath caught in Harry’s throat. She turned over, but did not open her eyes. Harry was then treated to a sight he never expected to see. Hermione was clutching a teddy bear. Leaning against the doorway, Harry smiled. She was so cute when she was asleep, and the teddy bear made the picture even more innocent. Harry couldn’t help but smile. More than anything else, he wished he could hold that moment forever.

It was not meant to be, however. Harry’s decision to try walking around without the cane was a bit premature, especially considering he was still a bit unstable from having just woken up. To his horror, his knees gave out from under him, and he tumbled to the floor with a crash.

Seconds later, he found himself staring down the business end of a wand, held by Hermione. She had bolted up in bed, and grabbed her wand, which she had kept between her mattress and the head of her bed. When she saw it was Harry, she threw her covers off, and was almost instantly at his side.

“Harry, are you okay?” She dropped her wand next to her. “What’s the matter? What are you doing here?”

“I…I woke up early,” he said slowly.

Wow, that was intelligent, he mentally berated himself. If you expect her to think you’re any kind of intelligent person, and not, say, a moron, you’d better come up with something better than that pretty damn quickly.

“I wanted to see you.” Hermione gave him a quizzical sideways look.

Oh sure, that was so much better, he thought. Because creepy is so much better than stupid. Way to go, Potter. Small wonder you weren’t put in Ravenclaw.

“You…you wanted to see me?” She bit her lip softly, looking for all the world like she wanted to say something else, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Okay, quick recovery time, Potter. Better make it good.

“Yeah. I know, that sounded a lot creepier than it did in my head.”

Oh, sure, blame me.

“It’s just that I…I had a dream about you last night, and it wasn’t a good dream, and I just wanted to be sure you were okay.”

Bold-faced lie time then. Better tell her about one of the old ones and hope she buys it.

He proceeded to tell her about a dream he had had, in fact, months before, a dream which had ended rather badly for her. He saw tears well up in her eyes, and instantly felt horrible, not only for lying to her, but for having made her cry.

“It’s okay, Harry. I’m fine.” She wrapped her arms around him and brought him close to her.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

Neither of them moved for quite awhile. Harry realized he felt horrible about enjoying the feel of Hermione’s arms wrapped around him. He felt like he was taking advantage of her, and so pulled away. He flashed a feeble smile at her, and tried to change the subject.

“So,” he said. “That’s a cute teddy bear you have there.”

She blushed a bright red.

“I’ve had Marvin for longer than I can remember,” she said softly. “When I was really little, Daddy used to make him talk, and he’d always be so sad, I always wanted to cheer him up. Apparently, Marvin was some kind of depressed robot on a radio show my parents loved.”

“That’s cute,” said Harry, smiling.

“I didn’t want to bring him to Hogwarts, but I always sleep with him when I come home.”

“Well, I’m sure that cheers him up,” Harry said, but stopped abrubtly. He paled when he realized what he had said. Hermione was staring at him, wide-eyed.

“I mean…I…uh…” He smacked his forehead. See, now that was just plain stupid.

Hermione laughed. The sound of her laughter was almost intoxicating to Harry.

“It’s okay, Harry,” she said softly. “I know you didn’t mean it like that.” She smiled at him and touched his arm. “Now, would you like some help getting up?” Harry nodded.

Hermione helped him up and together they walked down to the sitting room. Hermione was about to go back up to get Harry’s cane, but he stopped her.

“I’m sick of that cane,” he said, frowning. “I want to try getting around without it.”

“Are you sure you’re strong enough?” Hermione sat down next to him. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m sure. I managed to get to your room, didn’t I?”

“That’s true. Just let me help, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry reluctantly agreed, knowing that he probably wouldn’t be able to make it very far without help of some kind.

Hermione Granger, Florence Nightingale

Author’s Note: This is it. This is the last chapter. I’m sorry it took so long, but I’m going through a very rough patch with a personal situation, and let’s just say I’ve not been in any kind of mindset to even be able to come onto portkey and post this. I was really feeling pretty damn lousy. But don’t worry, I didn’t do anything I’d regret with the characters. This was written before any of that happened, and I just haven’t been able to bring myself to even look at it, much less post it. I’ve just looked at portkey for the first time in almost a week. So here you go. It’s short, but I like the ending. I think it’s my favorite ending of all of the stories I’ve written. This is probably going to be the last you’ll hear from me for awhile. Until I get these issues resolved, I’m not going to be in a state of mind in which I can write anything with any kind of a happy ending, and writing sad endings just depresses me. I’ll write when I can, and I hope you all understand. I’m just in a bad place right now.

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That night, as the day’s steady rain turned into a fierce thunderstorm, Harry once again lay awake in bed, thinking about Hermione. He was enjoying himself greatly. Spending time with Hermione was more fun than anything he could remember in his entire life.

Let’s face it, Harry, he thought. You’ve fallen for her.

“I have, haven’t I.” He laughed to himself. The strangest thing about it was that he was actually pretty comfortable with that fact. He of course had no idea how to proceed, but he was oddly at ease with the fact that he had fallen in love with his best friend.

He sat up as he heard a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” he said softly.

“Harry?” Hermione poked her head in. “You awake?”

“Yeah, I’m awake,” he said, and she came in.

“This storm is really something, isn’t it?”

“You’re not afraid of lightning and thunder, are you?”

“Of course not.” Hermione laughed. “I love it. When we get a storm like this, I like to go out and sit on the porch and just sit and watch it. I was just wondering if you’d like to join me.”

Harry smiled. As if I’d refuse spending time with her.

“I’d love to come,” he said softly. “Sounds nice.”

Hermione stood up and offered her arm for Harry to lean on, and he took it gratefully. They made their way slowly downstairs, and Hermione opened the glass door to the back porch for Harry.

“That’s not right,” he muttered. “The guy is supposed to hold the door for the girl.” Hermione laughed.

“I think we can let that pass this time,” she whispered into his ear as she sat down next to him on the swinging chair.

As they watched the rain pour down into Hermione’s backyard, expressing how impressed they were by the more significant lightning strikes, Harry felt an urge to hold Hermione. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him. As she rested her head on his shoulder, Harry felt his heartbeat accelerate. He let his head rest on top of hers, and she sighed.

“This is nice, Harry,” she said softly.

“It sure is.” He smiled. She smelled amazing, and he tightened his arm around her shoulders. “You know, Hermione, I really appreciate all that you’ve done for me, especially this summer.”

“Of course, Harry. I know you’d do the same for me if I needed you.” He felt her smile against his shoulder. “Besides, if you hadn’t come here, I may never have realized that I’m in love with you.” Harry was dumbstruck. He had no idea what to say to that.

Hermione peered up at him, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“You’re really in love with me?” The excitement in Harry’s voice was second only to that shown in his expression.

“Uh-huh.” She looked up at him, smiling.

“I’d like to ask you something,” whispered Harry.

“Anything.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Of course.” Hermione moved up, and Harry met her halfway. As their lips met, the largest bolt of lightning struck. When they pulled apart, Hermione shot a glance out into the storm, and smiled.

“Do you think we did that?”

“I don’t know,” replied Harry. “Only one way to find out.” He leaned in again, and Hermione giggled.

“Anything for the pursuit of knowledge,” she closed the distance, and they kissed again.

That was, of course, when the thunder came.

“Wow,” said Harry. “We’re good.”

“Imagine what we could do with practice,” said Hermione with a smile, and pulled Harry back down.