Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company belong to You-Know-Who (and I don't mean Voldemort).
CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Hermione was a mass of nerves. Honestly, this is worse than waiting for OWLs, and probably worse than taking NEWTs! Assuming I ever get to do those.
She flipped a page of a book and scanned it. It made as much sense to her as the previous page did - absolutely nothing. It was incredibly frustrating.
Faced with the myriad problems the trio had gone through before, including the prospect of a newly resurrected Voldemort, the young witch had burned the midnight oil more times than she could count. She was used to digesting reams of information before finding anything useful. So why was she absolutely frazzled at the prospect of meeting her best friend of six, seven years?
It's just Harry, she tried to tell herself.
Or will it be? That was the problem. In her dream, she had looked into his eyes and seen nothing but the boy she'd known all her life.
Today she had no idea whom she would meet. Would it be Harry, or would she end up facing him again, the monster who dwelt in his potion-soaked skin?
The girl covered her face. Maybe this meeting wasn't such a good idea. But Tonks was right: It had to happen sometime, and if had to then Hermione wanted to do it on her terms, on her turf if you will.
That meant the library.
Give everyone else their Quidditch pitch, their little fiefs on the grounds, their corners of the common rooms (unless it was late at night, in which case the trio tended to take over a cozy spot in Gryffindor tower).
But the library had always been her territory. Even Viktor Krum had somehow known that.
Hermione smiled at the memory of how the normally surly youth had come in everyday, sneaking glances at her as she studied, and how he had approached her almost diffidently to ask her to the Yule Ball. It was that unexpected shyness that had made her say yes.
Viktor was a good man. When they'd met, the seventeen year old was already a star athlete. The Bulgarian was taciturn and fierce-looking, but he had girls fawning over him like flies. He was also a product of Durmstrang, a school that catered only to purebloods. Yet he had been nothing but gentle with the fifteen-year-old muggleborn who'd caught his eye.
Recognizing in each other something extraordinary, he and Hermione had remained friends despite the distance between them. I should drop him a note, she thought guiltily. It had been awhile since her last owl and Viktor's reply. Their continued correspondence was another thing that drove Ron nutters.
Speaking of Ron ... Her eyes fell on the redhead's still unopened letter.
She picked it up with trepidation. She'd been deeply hurt last night. She understood what had made Ron go off, but she'd never expected the venom of it, or the form it would take. If anything, Ron tended to go even more ballistic than Harry over insults to her bloodline.
Oh for goodness' sake, it's Ron! Even angry, in the end he had done what was right. That in itself proved that her faith in their bond as a trio was justified. So why was she so nervous about a simple note?
She tore open the seal. The scrap of parchment was covered in Ron's familiar scrawl and, except for the seal, not spelled in any way.
"I'm sorry," it said. "I didn't mean it."
The girl shut her eyes. Ron was contrite, no doubt about it. She'd seen it in his eyes when he apologized. He was almost as shocked at his actions as she was. But she also sensed that those words had come from somewhere ...
Hermione heard a click, and footsteps padding across the stone floor. When she opened her eyes, Harry was there, standing across her with the table between them.
Undoubtedly the Solvamus was still strong within him. His green eyes glinted as they swept over her face, her form that was visible over the table, the honey-brown curls of her hair.
Then they fell to the parchment on the table. Even upside down, it wasn't hard to make out.
Harry's face darkened. He recognized Ron's handwriting immediately. "What did he do?"
His tone was demanding, almost belligerent. Hermione wouldn't have it. If she didn't tell him last night, she certainly wouldn't now. She tucked the letter away. "I already told you it's not your business, Harry. Stop asking."
He obviously liked that even less. "You used to tell me everything, but where Ron's concerned, it's none of my business?"
She lost her temper then. Hermione shot to her feet so fast she sent the chair scraping back. "You, of all people, do not have the right to get mad at Ron on my behalf! Yes, we argued! We always do; we probably always will." For the most part she was terribly fond of the boys, and awfully proud of being their closest friend. But all week long she'd felt gradually trapped between them, tugged in opposite directions by their conflicting needs and by her devotion to both of them. Their growing jealousies were hemming her in, and she had had enough. "Get used to it!"
Harry flushed. He seethed at her fierce defense of Ron. But he had to admit that she had a point. "Alright," he bit out. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "What is this about? Have they cleared Faveure's potion?" Of course not, he thought a second later, else Lupin would've already told me.
"This isn't about that."
"What is it that can't wait, then?
"There's something I have to know," Hermione said slowly. "Harry, I trust you, do you understand? I trust you in my dreams, and when the Solvamus is gone, and you're back to normal, I know things will be right between us again. But right now ..."
A frisson of fear crossed his face. "You shouldn't. We've both seen what I can do."
"But that's the question, isn't it? Will you do what you did last time? There's no augmenter now, and I know Lupin and Tonks were treating you ..."
"I told you before, that doesn't change how I feel!" he reminded her harshly.
"Which is what?" Hermione kept her voice calm, even as she mentally ticked off where Lupin was, standing just outside the door, and how close at hand her wand was. "What are you thinking right now?"
"You really want to know?" Suddenly his eyes were blazing. "I want to kiss you," he growled, "and I don't want to stop there. I want to taste you, to trace every inch of your softness with my mouth and hands. And then I want to pull your body against mine so I can feel you shaking like a leaf when I ... pleasure you."
Hermione felt the blood rush to her face. Ask a stupid question ... and it did not help that she was blushing! Keep calm. You have to see where this goes. "You're very confident." Her doubtful tone was deliberate.
He didn't rise to the bait. "I'm determined." He smirked; there was no other way to describe the brash grin playing along his lips.
"Right. I'm sure that's all it takes," she said with a bit of scorn.
That didn't faze him either. "Oh I haven't yet - all the way, if that's what you're asking, but I do know something about a woman's body. But more importantly, Hermione? I know you." His gaze was heated as he gradually moved closer. "I've had a lot of time to think about what I'd like to try, and what I think you'd like. Why don't you let me show you?"
The girl swallowed. This was definitely not the shy youth she'd known all her life! But was there enough of him left to show control? Now they would find out.
When he was near enough, Harry took her hand and tugged her closer. In one quick glance, he took in everything - how nervous Hermione was, how tautly she was holding herself, and how her wand was still in its usual place, tucked into a special pocket of her jeans.
His free hand flicked towards it.
"Hex me," he whispered.
"What?" The witch's hand was already hovering next to her wand, an automatic response to his sudden movement.
"Cast a binding spell. You know how," he said in a low, persuasive voice. "I hate seeing you scared of me. You've never been scared of anything in your life."
"That's not true. A lot of things scare me, Harry."
But he sensed that the idea appealed to her. "Do it," he whispered again, his breath warm against her ear. "After what I've done, turnabout's fair play, isn't it?"
The girl hesitated. She remembered Tonks and Lupin telling her about how Harry had simply shaken off their binding spells. The thought that this could be a trick flitted briefly through her mind. But nothing so far suggested that Harry was aware of his growing power, or that he was exercising it at will. After all, he had stayed bound throughout the treatment with the pensieve.
She tried to remember the circumstances under which Harry had broken through his bindings. The first was the night he'd been caught by Ron. The second - a mental image, sharp as life, of Harry turning on the roof at the sound of her voice, his trainers dislodging a tile that fell to the street far, far below ...
It was a sharp reminder of what she was trying to prevent. Hermione took a deep breath. "Maybe you'd better sit down."
Harry nodded. He released her hand, chose a comfortable-looking chair with armrests and pulled it into the middle of the room. Keeping his eyes on the girl, he sat down. Now that she was actually going to do it he couldn't help tensing up. Being hexed was rarely a pleasant experience.
It didn't escape her notice. "Relax," she admonished. "This was your idea. You don't want to be stuck in a position that'll give you muscle cramps." She gave him a few seconds, in case he wanted to change his mind. Then her wand swung out. "Immobulus!"
Harry found his legs, arms and torso instantly frozen but, "Hey, I can still move my head!"
"You wanted to be able to talk properly, didn't you?" For the first time in ages, the young witch favored him with a snarky grin. Casting a partial freezing charm was considered to be quite difficult.
"Wouldn't an Incarcerous have been easier?" he found himself asking. This wasn't what he'd been expecting.
"The way I feel right now? Would you care for rope burns?" she asked pleasantly.
"Er, no."
"Then don't criticize." As he'd guessed, now that she was in control Hermione seemed to be more at ease. "Now what?"
His smile was smug. "Since I can't move, that's really up to you."
She approached him. He didn't know what to expect. He was hoping that she'd sit by him and talk to him now, maybe tell him what Ron had done.
But that wasn't what happened. Harry wasn't aware of it, but as usual some of his hair was falling over his eyes. Hermione knew he couldn't move. Automatically, as she'd done dozens of times before, she threaded her fingers through his hair and brushed the unruly dark locks back.
The move was so easy, so casual, that Harry knew that Hermione had done it without thinking. He bent his head. A feeling, sharp as a spike, lanced through his chest, and because he couldn't move, he couldn't hide the tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes.
The sight alarmed Hermione. "What's wrong? Is the spell hurting you?"
"It's nothing." He cursed the tremor in his voice. "It's just you ... used to do that a lot."
She looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"
How could he explain now, of all times? If he told her now how terribly he missed the easy ways between them, she would think that it was just another ploy of the potion.
The irony was nothing could be further from the truth. At this moment, Harry would give anything to return to the way things used to be - for Hermione to casually flick something from his shirt, or tug his tie straighter before Snape's class, or squeeze his hand, or take his arm. All of that's lost now ...
"Tell me, Harry."
With an effort, he collected himself. "My life's the way it is. I accept that. But it's built in a way that ..." he trailed off. How best to explain? "I've seen Ron at the Burrow, and you with your parents. The way they hug you, or how Ron's brothers will suddenly have him in a headlock or how his parents bustle around him."
"I've never had that," he said matter-of-factly. "Sometimes Lupin or when they were still ... Sirius and Dumbledore," he swallowed, "or Ron and the guys, when we won a match ... but you know how blokes are."
Dammit, he was babbling! "You shouldn't touch me. I understand that. But you have no idea what it meant to me, that there was finally someone in my life who would. Until Ginny came along, there was only you, and even then it was something to look forward to. Not in a perv way," he hastened to add. "But it was great that someone was finally like that with me, and that sometimes I could return the favor."
Hermione didn't know how to react. Harry had mentioned something like this before, that she'd been one of the first to show him physical affection. But what that meant hadn't sunk in until now. It's not just that I was the first, he's saying that I was the only constant ...? Dear Merlin.
She hadn't realized. That's what got her. All along she'd simply assumed that Harry was self-contained. He had always had an odd gravity about him, even when they were children.
"They really did a number on you, didn't they?" she asked, a thrum of anger in her voice.
"Huh?"
"Sorry, been reading a lot of American noir," the girl explained. Mentally, she was kicking the Dursley's collective arses. "Maybe you're right."
"I am?" It was his turn to look confused.
"I shouldn't touch you." Her expression was grave. "Things between us being what they are."
His heart sank. Harry nodded, and turned his head away.
"Oh don't be like that. Look at me." When he wouldn't, Hermione grazed his cheek with the back of her fingers. Just as she thought, the light touch caught his attention instantly. When he jerked back towards her, she saw that his eyes were still bright with hurt. She sighed. "Harry, you should know by now that where you're concerned, I don't always do what's wise."
Gently, she carefully traced the line of his tears, wiping all traces of them away. "Is this all right?"
Not trusting himself to speak, Harry nodded.
"I never had a problem touching you," she mused as she reached the strong line of his jaw. His character was beginning to show in his face, she thought. There was sheer bloody determination in that jaw, the set of his chin. "You're right. I didn't think about it; I didn't even notice. It just happened. I was never that way with anyone else, not even Ron."
Harry's jealousy sparked again at the mention of Ron, but not by much. Hermione's hands were astonishingly distracting. He was too busy trying to lean into her light touches to offer more than a token, "Because you had this ... tension."
To his surprise, the young witch laughed. "Harry, we were eleven! Tension?" she scoffed. "I'm sure I wasn't even aware of the word. Outside of physics of course," she couldn't resist adding. "My family's affectionate, so maybe this is just the way I am with people who're close to me. But Ron's not comfortable with things like that. He tends to shy away, especially in public. I couldn't' hug him in a hall full of people, because he wouldn't like it. I never got that from you."
He held her gaze. "You won't ever."
The solemn tone of his voice altered the mood between them. Suddenly this wasn't just about friendly affection anymore.
Hermione bit her lip as she allowed her hands to fall and follow the curve of his neck, until they were resting on his shoulders. She was surprised to encounter an unexpected strength there, corded just beneath the rough cloth of his shirt.
Sometimes she forgot how strong the boys had become, with their athletic prowess. How sleekly powerful Harry was, in particular, because despite his unassuming ways he'd been a Quidditch seeker since they were first years.
For his part, Harry was making no effort to hide how much the little she was doing affected him. It was obvious in his half-lidded stare, in the way his breath hitched as her hands began to pan across his shoulders.
There was something enthralling in all of this, Hermione slowly realized, in having this kind of effect on a person. The thought suddenly crossed her mind that there would be no guessing games with Harry. None of the drawn-out dances between girls and boys.
It was heady stuff this, being wanted and knowing it. Is this the way Lavender and Angelina, and boys like Malfoy, feel? Up to now, it was a power Hermione had only heard about but hadn't personally known.
And are you starting to think that you have it now? The girl started at the familiar wryness of her inward voice. Forgetting all about the Solvamus, are we? Didn't Harry as much as say that without the potion, he would've never told you how he felt? That he didn't want to feel this way?
Hermione froze. What was she thinking?! More to the point, what was she doing? She was ... enjoying this, enjoying touching Harry like this!
"I'm sorry. This isn't right or fair," she whispered. She gripped his shoulders briefly, as if to steady herself, before releasing him. "I keep forgetting you're under the influence."
Before Harry could open his mouth to protest, but she was already stepping back.
When she was about three feet off, she drew her wand out and pointed it at him. This time she used no words.
The invisible fetters fell away. Reflexively, Harry rubbed his arms and tested his legs. When he stood, there was a sharp urge to leap towards her but he fought it down. For now, he was content to let her see it plainly on his face. "No apology necessary," he dismissed her contrite words with a crooked grin. "Feel free to ... take advantage of me anytime."
She blushed, but she was also indignant. "This isn't funny, Harry."
He raised an eyebrow. "Because you think it's not 'right or fair' that you just - what, Hermione? - touched my face, my shoulders? What a monstrously shocking thing to do."
"There's a valid ethical concern here!" she said heatedly.
"Why?" he challenged. "Because I liked it?" He stepped closer. "I liked it," he affirmed huskily. "I'd also like it if you did more. Do I need to tell you that?"
"Harry, you're under the influence of a powerful drug." Hermione wasn't sure who she was trying to reason with, him or with herself. Oh Merlin, what had just happened? She'd never counted on this!
Her reasoned statement only seemed to annoy him. "How many times do I have to say that Snape's potion doesn't change the way I feel?" Harry asked irritably.
"How do you know that? How can you be sure?" Hermione argued. "You as much as admitted that you decided not to love me. Why did that change, if not because of the potion?"
"Oh for Godric's sake!" Harry snapped. "There was no 'change,' Hermione, because I was never able to do it! I tried! But I couldn't stop feeling the way I did. It was always there, right under the surface." His eyes narrowed at her doubtful expression. "You don't believe me, do you? Oh sorry, I forgot, it's only that other fellow you trust. Everything that comes out of my mouth right now is just shite as far as you're concerned!"
"Harry!"
"Fine!" He threw up his hands. "Just tell me. When I was with Cho, or even with Ginny, or if I had any fancy bird on my arm or had twenty veelas doing their mating dance in front of me," he added caustically, "do you have any doubt, any doubt at all, that if you called me I wouldn't leave them in a heartbeat to be by your side?"
"That's not -"
"Just answer the question," he demanded. "Picture it. I'm with Ginny. Maybe we've just come in from practice or we're in Hogsmeade. You run up to me and tell me to come with you. You don't even give a reason. What do I do, Hermione? Do I fob you off with some excuse?"
She tried to imagine it. She honestly couldn't. "No."
Harry regarded her quietly. "Meet me at Hogwarts."
She didn't need to ask him what he meant. "Alright."
===============
This time there was no need to call him. By the time Hermione arrived (it took awhile to doze off again), Harry was already waiting for her. This time they met by the lakeside.
For the sake of her own peace of mind, she decided not to inquire too closely into whether he had really gotten there ahead of her, or if it only seemed that way.
The dark-haired boy scolded her as soon as she was close. "You shouldn't have done that, Hermione,"
"I had to."
"You could've warned me at least."
"I couldn't. I didn't know myself that I was going to do it until I asked Professor Lupin to arrange the meeting," she admitted. "Anyway, it wasn't so bad."
He was looking at her as if she'd sprung horns.
"Really, it wasn't," she tried to reassure him.
"You really have no idea, do you?" he asked slowly.
"What do you mean?"
"I - he - oh bloody hell!" Harry swore. "This is going to sound ridiculous, but I'm going to talk about myself in the third person for awhile, okay? To distinguish between me as I am right now, and him, the potion-addled bloke. Got that?" Without waiting for her answer, Harry plunged ahead. "The thing is ... he thinks he's found a way."
The look she gave him was puzzled. "A way to what?"
"First you have to understand something. I want you," he admitted in a rush, his cheeks staining red. "The Solvamus makes it impossible to ignore that. When he wakes, it's the primary thought in his head, how to make you want him ... how to make you his. Got that?"
The girl bit her lip and nodded.
"Today he discovered," Harry continued slowly, bracing himself for the inevitable explosion, "that you like being in control. He's going to use that against you, Hermione."
"WHAT?!" Surely he didn't mean ...? She threw him a gobsmacked look. Oh hell, he did! "But that - that's ridiculous!" she spluttered.
"Is it?" Was it her imagination or was Harry actually teasing her for a second? "Forget how it sounds," he dismissed, though the fleeting mental image of a leather-clad Hermione almost made him grin. "You like planning out your life, you like having things in a certain order. And considering what ... happened," he continued more seriously, "maybe you do need to be in control. So you can stop him anytime you want to."
She considered that briefly. "Does that mean he will?"
Harry raked his hands through his hair. "He - I will. However thick he is, he realizes now that he almost lost you last time. He really doesn't want to hurt you, Hermione. The augmenter and the potion together were just too much, it made him snap. Besides ..."
"Besides?" she prompted.
"It's different now. With you and Ron, um, well," he trailed off. Then he cleared his throat and tried again. "A lot of what drives him mad is the thought that he's got no chance, that you're with ... someone else."
This third person thing was giving Hermione the beginnings of a fierce headache. "You mean you're jealous."
Harry didn't deny it. "Maybe I've always been. That doesn't mean that I'm not happy that Ron has everything he does. But sometimes I wish so badly that ... and it drives me crazy when he fails to appreciate how good he's got it!" He sighed. "But if you and he are no longer together, then that's different. It changes everything."
The young wizard straightened, and when their gazes met, Hermione knew that she was facing that other part of him. She was familiar with this Harry, too, though he wasn't quite the lad she saw everyday, or the one poisoned by Snape's drug. No, this was the boy who'd faced Voldemort again and again, and somehow found the strength to live.
"Harry ..." she began warningly, like she often did when he was about to embark on something reckless.
Naturally it didn't deter him. Once Harry was decided on a particular course of action, he could be astonishingly stubborn. "I don't need any more time to think, Hermione. I know we should wait for Faveure's potion to clear, because of the way that the Solvamus is influencing me. But I want you to know right now that if you're serious about giving me a chance, I want it."
She tried again. With her sense of fairness, Hermione felt like she had to. "Harry, maybe this isn't the best -"
"Hey, I know that this doesn't necessarily mean that we'll end up together," he continued gently. "It's really up to you, I promise. Just don't ask me to fight it anymore. There's so much to do, and sometimes it feels like every year, every passing day just piles it on. Maybe soon I'll even have to fight for the right to breathe." Harry shrugged, to show her that he was half-kidding. "So don't argue with me on this one. Besides, you can't win."
The raven-haired wizard smiled. "You asked what I wanted. I wish you'd asked sooner, or that I had the sense to own up to it earlier and tell you." This time his hands were warm and shy and welcome as they lightly clasped hers. "All this time, Hermione? All I've wanted in the world was you."
A/N: Oh look there's actually WAFF in this one. Who would've ever thought? Didn't plan it that way but it just kept ending like that. What do you think, too much? Not enough? Just right? Again, thanks for your patience and to everyone who wrote reviews. Hearing from you guys makes my day. :)