And after an incredible three hour game, Page caught the snitch and did this incredible twirl on her broomstick before being trampled by the happy Chudleys!
The headlines were clear; Ron and Ginny were pulling off miracles when Harry and Hermione didn't watch their game. Harry sipped his coffee and smiled at the newspaper, caressing Ginny's face. "She's so beautiful," he whispered.
"Who is?" he heard a voice. He brought his head up to face a very hung-over Hermione. He waved his wand and a potion appeared on the table across from his seat.
"Drink it," he said, folding up the newspaper and tossing it to her. She caught it with one hand, her other brought the murky purple liquid to her mouth. Harry took another section of the newspaper and opened it. Once she was done, Hermione put the potion down and brought a cup of coffee towards her. She sat down and began to read the paper, sipping her coffee at even intervals. There was an uncomfortable silence for once between them and the only noise that could be heard were the frequent flips of the newspaper. Occasionally, Harry would glance up and look at her. She was so concentrated on her paper. Her eyes were scanning the words quickly. Too quickly. He looked closer. Frantically. She was nervous. She never read like that. He looked down at her hands. They were firm on the newspaper and most unquestionably shaking. She was definitely nervous. He looked back at his newspaper. It would happen again and again. At one point, he glanced up, only to see that she had been staring at him. She quickly turned her gaze back to her paper and he followed. Both were completely embarrassed that they were acting this way. Finally, Harry sighed and folded his newspaper. He finished his coffee and brought his hands down in front of him. "Are we going to talk about it?" he asked almost sounding professionally. Hermione sipped her coffee and continued to read.
"What difference would it make? It was a mistake. We were drunk," she said nonchalantly.
"Yes, it was," Harry said. Hermione's eyes widened slightly as she brought the paper down and looked at him. He was very calm, his Adam's apple still. "But I still want to talk about it," he said. Hermione put down her mug and folded her arms.
"Alright," she said. Harry moved his chair forward.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, I…I don't know what came over me. You were right, I knew you were right. Everything
you were saying was right but I didn't want to believe it. I was…," he paused, searching for the right word.
Hermione bit her lip and wondered why her leg was shaking uncontrollably. "I was drunk," he said finally.
Hermione lowered her gaze to her mug and Harry did the same. Something was wrong. They didn't know what.
"Well then," Hermione broke the silence, "I suppose it's my turn." She raised her brown eyes to his. "I miss Ron. I've missed him every night since he left. I hate that I can't see him, I hate that he can't call and I hate that he hasn't…I miss him. I missed him and I suppose I saw him in you…"she stopped, unable to continue. Harry took her hand in his.
"I understand," he said quietly, "Hermione, I don't want to lose your friendship." Hermione sniffed and mentally told her eyes to stop watering. She took her hand away from his and got up.
"I'm going to take a shower and brush," she said, "We'll continue our case on Dolohov before they come back and we can go out for brunch." Harry sighed. He hated it when she ran from her feelings.
"Hermione-" he tried. But Hermione had run upstairs by the time he had gotten up from his chair. Sighing, he brought their mugs to the sink and snarled softly as he made his way upstairs. Hermione was already in the shower before he reached the door. He took his wand out and casted a charm on his glasses. Then, he turned the knob and made his way into the bathroom. It was a fairly large bathroom, the main one, used by everyone in the house. Harry crept in as silently as he could. Hermione wasn't humming or singing loudly as she usually would. Instead, he heard whimpers. He sat himself down on the sink and waited. Each second that ticked by made him wonder why he was in here instead of taking out his work, as she had asked him to. Why he followed her up the stairs instead of walking into the living room. Why he sneaked into the bathroom instead of knocking first. Why he was wondering what was behind the shower curtain. He jolted out of his wicked thoughts when the water turned off and he heard her wring her hair. There was a pause.
"Is the charm on?" she asked. Harry smiled.
"You knew," he said.
"I knew," he could hear her grin.
"It's on." She pulled the curtains back and Harry handed her her towel. Hermione was naked but to Harry's charmed glasses; it looked as though she was fully clothed, down to her socks and shoes. "Looks a bit silly, as though you'd taken a bath with your clothes on," he chuckled as she patted herself down. She was silent. "You knew," he said, referring to his existence in the bathroom.
"I knew," she repeated, putting an invisible-to-Harry bra on. He remained silent for a second, shifting his
glasses to cover her body. "Why did you come in?" she asked. He lowered his gaze to the floor.
"We didn't finish our conversation," he said, trying to be polite. She smiled and slipped on her jeans.
"And you thought it would be more comfortable in the bathroom with me half-dressed?" She turned to look at him, her face wicked. Harry smiled and nearly blushed, unable to answer. Hermione brought her wand up and whispered, "Anapneo." The steam in the room was sucked into Hermione's wand. She then turned, pointed it at Harry's glasses and uncharmed them. They stood there after that, her hand still in the air, her wand pointing at him.
"What if I hadn't charmed them?" he asked. She lowered her wand slowly.
"I trust you," she said as she walked out the door. Harry got up quickly and ran after her.
"Hermione! Hermione, we need to talk!" he said, chasing after her on the stairs. She spun around, her hair
wild and wet.
"What do you want me to say, Harry?" she said, clearly irritated, "That it wasn't a mistake?"
"No," Harry responded quickly, "I wanted you…I wanted you…" He paused, surprised by how that phrase sounded so right. I wanted you. I wanted you. I wanted you. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't want to lose you just because of one stupid act. We can get through this." Hermione sighed in response.
"I love you, Harry," she said slowly, "But right now…I can't act like it didn't happen." She turned and continued down the stairs, making her way into the living room.
~*~
"DO YOU HEAR ME?" Harry bellowed even louder and raised his wand to him, "YOU WON'T TOUCH HER!"
"Harry! So nice to see you," Voldemort smiled evilly, "I assume you're talking about the Mudblood. Don't you fret. She'll be in good hands." Harry sneered but turned around quickly when he heard laughing from behind him. Dolohov was dragging Hermione's body by the feet into the woods. "Take your hands off her!" Harry yelled. Dolohov was suddenly thrown back by an invisible force and Harry smiled and admired his non-verbal magic. The celebration was short, however, when he felt a pair of hands grab him by the waist and throw him down the hill. He rolled and rolled, screaming in pain as each large rock slammed into his ribcage. Completely worn out by the time he reached the bottom, Harry didn't even try to fight back when Wormtail took his wand from him. "IMPERIO!" Harry felt his body rise from the ground. He opened his eyes and gasped as he felt…he no longer felt. He tried to move his head. Nothing. His fingers. Nothing. His feet, his arms, his legs. Nothing. "Turn around and call off your Aurors," Voldemort whispered. Harry turned around, cursing internally that he was nothing but a voyeur now. He ran back into the forest and bumped into Cutter, the leader of the Australian Aurors. "Harry!" he screamed at the sight of him. "Fall back," Harry could barely recognize his own voice. NO! He screamed inside his head. Cutter, don't you dare listen to me! "Are you sure?" he asked, his eyebrows bunched together, "Harry, what's happened?" Harry grabbed his shirt and brought his face close to his mouth. "GET OUT OF HERE," he heard himself snarl. Then, he pushed Cutter away him from and ran the other way, back to Voldemort. Even though he couldn't feel the dirt under his shoes or the tree branches hitting his face, he could hear Cutter telling his troops to fall back. Inside his mind, Harry tried to stay calm. But even he knew he was alone now.
~*~
Hermione stormed into the living room. Harry followed after her, grabbing her arm and flinging her to face him. "Don't run from away from me!" he yelled, "Who do you think I am, RON?" She turned around quickly and yanked her arm out of his grip.
"What is THAT supposed to mean?" she yelled back.
"It means that you can fight with your boyfriend all you want but you don't treat me like this, Hermione!" Harry yelled, surprised he was saying such things. Was he drunk right now? Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to her box. It angered him. He grabbed her arm and flung her back to him. "Don't shut me out, Hermione!" he yelled once again. Hermione shook her head in disbelief.
"Harry, this case is getting to your head! I'm not shutting you out; I just don't want to talk about this."
"You're leaving me out of your life. Don't leave me alone, Hermione. We have to talk about this!" Hermione turned back around. Why couldn't he just drop it? He had said it. He said it meant nothing. Nothing. The kiss was nothing. It meant absolutely nothing to him. He had said it. What else was there to say? It was aggravating her now. She didn't know why. It was like last night. The anger was building. Harry grabbed her arm and brought her to face him once more. She yanked her hand and tried to slap him. He caught her hand in midair. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" he shouted, looking at her palm like it was an extra-terrestrial. She shook her hand out of his.
"STOP TOUCHING ME!" she yelled, "I SAID I DIDN'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" Harry screwed his eyebrows closer together. It was aggravating him so much. He wanted to talk about last night. It wasn't normal that best friends kissed. Even if they were drunk. She didn't want to talk about it. HER. Hermione. She always wanted to talk. To her best friend, that was. He didn't want to lose their friendship.
"We have to talk," he said dangerously quietly, "If you let it go right now, we'll never talk. Talk to me, Hermione. Tell me about last night. Tell me how you felt." Hermione stared into his blazing eyes. He was angry. He was enraged. So was she. What was she supposed to say? What did he want her to say? That it was also nothing? It meant nothing to her? She didn't want to say that. She wasn't ready. She didn't want to say that a heated kiss with Harry meant nothing. That fact scared her. She wanted time to herself to think it through. She wanted some alone, quiet time. Alone, quiet time was something Ron never gave her. But Harry always would. Harry would always give her space. But he wasn't now. And he was mad? She was positively burning.
"Don't make me say things I don't want to!" she yelled at him. She turned around and bent down to retrieve some papers from a box. Harry exploded. She was turning her back on him? She was practically refusing him! She was excluding him from her emotions. She wasn't letting him in. She didn't want to. A strange sound escaped his mouth as he grabbed her and pushed her roughly against the couch. She squealed as he knelt and lowered himself between her open legs. "What are you doing?" she breathed softly, fluttering her eyelids. He stared at her, suddenly realizing their situation and…position. Hermione's eyes were wide, now looking into his. Her breath had suddenly chosen to come out in a raggedly slow way. His breathing had quickened as well, his chest starting a faster and faster pace. He lowered his head and got off her, backing up three paces.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I don't know what came over me." Hermione smoothed out her shirt and rested more comfortably on the couch.
"It's alright," she said, unsure if even she believed the words. Harry ran his fingers through his bangs, his anger fading. He glanced up at Hermione. She was looking at him, an unrecognizable look in her eyes. She wasn't angry anymore. Harry sighed and let his shoulders hunch forward slightly. There was a silence. Their first comfortable silence of the day.
"Hermione," he started softly. He gazed at the speck on the carpet floor. He couldn't continue. There was nothing left to say. The door burst open and Harry and Hermione ran into the arms of the waiting Weasleys.
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. You are so incredibly important to me. I don't want to lose you just because of one stupid email.