A Touching Romance by Violet Kefira

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 10/08/2006
Last Updated: 16/10/2006
Status: Completed

Ginny Weasley is a jealous person. A jealous girlfriend especially. A jealous girlfriend of one,
Harry Potter, to be exact. So, to make sure that bushy-haired know-it-all doesn't move in on
her territory over Christmas holidays, she brews a potion that enables Harry to touch only the girl
he desires most. Because after all, everyone knows that the only girl Harry has ever *really*
wanted is Ginny. Or so she thinks. FINISHED! A million thank yous to my reviewers!




1. No touchy-touchy potion
--------------------------



**Hello, hello, to all! This story is in response to a challenge here on Portkey, issued by the
illustrious** Witch of the Web**. I fell in love with it immediately, and insisted upon picking
it up. I have several chapters written already, so you can, at least, expect updates every few
days.**

**I really hope you all enjoy this chapter (which I had so much fun writing, as
crazyjealous!Ginny is really hilarious), and all the ones to come!**

**And, so, without further ado, I present….**

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 1 ~ No touchy-touchy potion**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

The castle was a fluttering mass of activity. It always was, of course, but there was a certain
air of franticness that was hanging over it just now.

It was December, and Christmas break was right around the corner. With three quarters at least
of Hogwarts leaving to spend the break with their families, the ghosts and teachers were looking
forward to a few weeks of a quieter sort.

Up in Gryffindor Tower, the sixth year girls' dormitory was perhaps the most hectic of all.
Ginny Weasley in particular. She was frantically gathering the scattered ingredients she needed for
a last minute potion. This potion, despite what you may think, was not actually for Potions
class.

No, this potion was meant for something completely unrelated to any schoolwork whatsoever. For,
you see, Ginny Weasley was a rather jealous person. A jealous girlfriend especially. A jealous
girlfriend of one, Harry Potter, to be exact. And this personality trait led her to concoct the
potion, one extremely obstinate ingredient of which she was haphazardly tossing her bedclothes
about to find.

As she searched under her pillow for the miniscule bit of heartwood root, she went over for what
had to have been the millionth time The Plan she was just about to put into action. Step one:
create potion. That was supposed to have been simple enough, but, seeing as how the ingredients had
decided to hate her and were being quite successfully elusive, it might have turned out not to be
quite so easy. But she would find them all eventually.

Step two: administer potion to boyfriend. This would also be easy. Harry's glass of morning
pumpkin juice was a must have for the young man (newly christened the Boy-Who-Conquered, after
Voldemort's recent defeat). She could easily slip a few drops of the potion into his goblet
while he wasn't looking.

Step three: haul off for a relaxing holiday without worrying about boyfriend cheating. Ginny
felt particularly attached to this step. It was one she would have absolutely no problem carrying
out.

The entirety of The Plan had been set in motion when that horrible wretch of a girl, Cho Chang,
had dared give Harry a congratulatory hug after winning the House Cup against Slytherin. Granted,
he had been very uncomfortable throughout the whole thing, but he hadn't exactly fought her off
with tooth and nail, now had he?

No, he hadn't. And that was the reason for the potion. She'd found it in Hermione's
Potions textbook, which Hermione had let her borrow after being convinced that she was trying to
get a head start on N.E.W.T.s. Hermione had been satisfyingly accepting of that spur-of-the-moment
lie.

The potion was one of great complexity (though Ginny hadn't found it to seem too difficult
to make, and couldn't find anything that might lead her to believe it was illegal), and was
meant to be used just for the kind of purposes she had. When drunk, the potion created a sort of
invisible barrier that clung to the drinker's skin, which could only be penetrated by the
person who was the object of the drinker's innermost desire. In laymen's terms, it meant
that only the girl Harry loved most would be able to touch him without an extremely unpleasant
consequence.

It really wasn't that Ginny didn't trust Harry, because she did. She just knew how the
girls of Hogwarts felt about her darling boyfriend. He was, after all, an extremely attractive boy,
rich beyond almost all comparison, and a pleasant, considerate, kindhearted person. Every other
girl in the castle had some form or fashion of a crush on him. It was a well-known fact.

Harry had decided to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas break that year. Ginny couldn't even
begin to fathom why, as the alternative was spending it with her, but she respected his decision.
She had been annoyed (soul-consumingly furious, more like) when she had found out that Hermione was
also going to be staying. It seemed it wasn't quite safe for her to be in a Muggle environment
for a long period of time. Though their leader was long dead and gone, some of Voldemort's
Death Eaters were still lurking about to try and pick off a few of the Order.

If it had been anyone else, Ginny wouldn't have minded. She could have handled Lavender or
Parvati, maybe even that Chang girl if it came to it, but Hermione was a completely different
story. She'd *seen* the way the bushy haired girl had looked at *her* Harry, after
all. After the collapse of a relationship with Ron that had apparently been doomed to fail from the
beginning, it seemed that Hermione's affections had been turned towards her other best
friend.

Ginny had always been particularly good at guessing people's emotions, at least she thought
so. And Hermione showed all the tell-tale signs of fancying *he*r boyfriend. She became
flustered when he praised her. She babbled or blushed if he smiled that special smile of his (the
smile, by the way, that really was solely meant for *her*). She practically jumped through the
roof if ever he touched her. One incident that particularly stood out in Ginny's mind was the
time that Hermione had fallen from a tree from which she was trying to save Crookshanks, and had
been caught in Harry's strong arms. Her face hadn't lost its beat read color until much
later that day.

Yes, that walking textbook fancied *he*r Harry, and Ginny intended to completely cease all
physical contact between the two whatsoever. Harry obviously didn't have any feelings for
Hermione. He wouldn't still be with her if he had. And why on earth would he pick Hermione over
*her*? It simply wouldn't have made an ounce of sense to Ginny, had that been the case. It
wasn't, of course, Ginny knew to be a fact.

Ginny found the last few ingredients, brewed the potion perfectly, corked it in a bottle, and
smiled. Nothing to worry about now.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

**Ah, but that was fun, wasn't it? I really had so much fun writing this. I can only hope
you all enjoyed it, too! I'll give you cupcakes for reviews (or whatever's hiding in my
fridge at the moment)!**

**~ Violet Kefira**

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2. Dobby disbelieving
---------------------



**Thank you all so very much for the reviews of my last chapter! I can hardly believe the
reaction I got. I feel a bit bad for updating so soon. I know that all of you are happy for it, but
I've always loved to leave the reader hanging. Three days since the last chapter. Yes,
that's terribly suspenseful.**

**Here be a shout out to my German readers! Guten Tag! I think that was right. Anyways…**

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 2 ~ Dobby disbelieving**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

As Ginny sneaked down through the halls of Hogwarts, she fought off the urge to laugh. It was
far too much like one of those Muggle spy movies she and Harry had seen over the last summer for
her to take herself seriously. She was swathed in Harry's invisibility cloak and was headed off
for the kitchens. She'd had the positively brilliant idea of getting the houselves to put the
potion in Harry's drink goblet in the morning.

She reached the picture of the fruit bowl that Fred and George had described to her, and tickled
the pear on its round, green belly. The painting swung open, revealing the bustling kitchen.
Heavenly smells wafted toward Ginny as she stepped through, and she was tempted to delay her
mission for just a little while to try some of the delicious food just waiting for the hungry
mouths of the morning.

But she denied herself. There was work to be done. Quickly, she scanned the vast room for the
tower of knit hats she knew she would find Dobby under.

After quite a search, she found the little elf struggling to lift a huge platter of scrambled
eggs that was twice his size. She took the platter from him, placing it where he directed. Once she
had set it down, she turned to him with a smile.

“Hello, Dobby,” she said.

Dobby touched a hat as close to the top of the tower as he could reach. “Evening, Miss Wheezy.
Can Dobby help you?” Dobby had always refused to call Ginny anything other than `Miss Wheezy.'
It irked her to no end, because Hermione was always referred to as `Harry Potter's Lady.'
Obviously, Dobby couldn't see the intense romantic connection between herself and Harry.

“Yes, thank you, Dobby,” Ginny replied politely. She produced the little vial of `No
touchy-touchy' potion, as she had come to call it affectionately. “I would like you to put a
few drops of this into Harry's pumpkin juice in the morning, please.”

Dobby peered at the vial suspiciously. “What exactly is this potion, Miss Wheezy?” he asked,
looking up at her with narrowed eyes.

Ginny huffed, annoyed. “It is a Pepper-Up Potion,” she lied. “He refuses to take it voluntarily,
but he's been feeling rather ill lately. You will put some in the juice, won't you,
Dobby?”

Dobby looked hesitant. “Well, Dobby knows that Harry Potter needs to feel well at all
times.”

“Yes, that's just it, Dobby. This will make Harry's life much better.” *It's not
really a lie,* Ginny thought. *Now he won't have to deal with Hermione being all over
him.*

Dobby seemed deep in thought for a long moment, then took the vial out of Ginny's hand.
“Dobby will put a few drops in the juice. Thank you for dropping in, Miss Wheezy. Dobby appreciates
your concern for Harry Potter's health.” The obvious and abrupt dismissal caught Ginny
off-guard. She stood unblinking for a few moments before realizing that the little elf had
gone.

“Well,” she said simply. She turned tail and left the kitchen, fully satisfied that The Plan was
coming along perfectly.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

**Ugh. Short and boring, yes, I know. But it simply had to be done. Worry not, my friends. The
next chapter bring evil!Ginny and protective!Hermione dialogue that I know you'll all
enjoy.**

**~ Violet Kefira**

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3. A Surprising Lack of Flaming Hair
------------------------------------



**I'm positively awful. I completely forgot that I needed to update this. Sorry, sorry, my
dears. This chapter is longer, I promise. There are only one or two chaps like the last one, so
your need for story progression will be pacified, worry not.**

**Prepare to despise Ginny….**

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 3 ~ A Surprising Lack of Flaming Hair**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

The morning after Ginny's trip to the kitchen, she woke with a feeling of accomplishment in
her gut. Humming happily, she went about her morning routine, rather pleased with herself.

She found Harry waiting for her in the Common Room. To her distain, Hermione was also with him,
so Ginny made quite a show of giving Harry a rather prolonged and passionate good-morning kiss.
When she finally pulled away, Hermione looked very uncomfortable, if not a bit sad. Ginny just
smirked at her and sauntered off for the portrait hole. Harry followed dazedly behind, rather
useless after such a kiss.

They entered the Great Hall one after another, and took seats at the Gryffindor Table, Harry and
Ginny on one side, Hermione on the other. Ron soon joined them, sitting on the bench beside
Hermione. Morning greetings were exchanged, and Harry and Ron struck up a conversation about
Puddlemere's chance at the Cup.

Soon the plates and goblets filled with food and drink. Piles of every scrumptious breakfast
food imaginable soon appeared, and each student happily tucked in. When a small pitcher of pumpkin
juice materialized right next to Harry's place, Ginny squirmed excitedly in her seat.

Throughout the entire meal, Ginny could hardly sit still. Every time Harry took a sip of his
juice, she did her very best to contain a little squeal of delight. Her problems had never seemed
so easy to fix.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, Harry downed the last of his juice. For a moment,
nothing happened, and Ginny began to wonder if maybe the potion hadn't worked very well. But
then a soft white glow appeared around his hands, creeping up to eventually surround him
completely.

She peered around at the others sitting near, but no one seemed to notice.

Satisfied, she settled back in her seat with a smile on her pretty face. Now she had only to
leave and enjoy her holiday.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

As Ginny was finishing up her packing that night, she heard a knock on the door. She went to
open it and found a steely faced Hermione glaring back at her.

“What did you do to him?” she asked immediately.

Ginny was taken aback. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she lied quickly. She
turned round and continued folding shirts to put in her trunk, anxious to keep Hermione from seeing
the blush she knew was spreading across her cheeks.

“Don't play dumb with me, Ginny,” Hermione said softly. Ginny was surprised that her voice
was so calm. “You know exactly what I'm talking about. I saw that glow around Harry. What did
you do to him?”

“It's nothing that will hurt him,” she said. “At least, it shouldn't.”

Hermione moved to stand beside her. She reached out and forced Ginny's face towards her.
“Tell me what you did,” she said. Ginny saw the frantic concern in Hermione's eyes and knew she
now had the upper hand.

A smile found its way to her lips. “It doesn't concern you, Hermione,” she spat. Hermione
looked hurt, and her hand dropped to her side.

But then Hermione shook her head slightly, drawing her shoulders up. “If it concerns Harry,” she
began strongly, “It concerns me.”

Ginny couldn't help but laugh. “You think you're so noble, don't you, Hermione?” she
asked scathingly. “Waltzing in here to *protect* Harry from big, bad Ginny. You may be
Harry's best friend, but *I* am his *girlfriend*. I will always take precedence over
you.”

Hermione's eyes blazed. “That is *not* true,” she said angrily.

Ginny stepped towards her until their noses nearly touched. “Oh, yes, Hermione, it is,” she
countered. “There is nothing you can ever do to have the kind of connection with Harry that I
have.”

“I refuse to stand here and take this from you!” Hermione exclaimed. “Despite what you may
think, Harry loves me. And I love him, like the brother I never had.” She spun around and strode to
the door.

When her hand reached out for the knob, Ginny said softly, “No, you don't.”

Hermione hand froze in midair. “Excuse me?” she asked, incredulous.

“You don't love Harry like a brother,” Ginny replied. “Maybe your feelings for him used to
be completely platonic, but they are far from platonic now.”

Hermione turned around, bewildered. “What are you saying?”

Ginny leaned against her bedpost casually. “I'm saying that you don't think of Harry as
a brother. You love him as so much more than that.”

Hermione shook her head. “I don't know what you mean.”

Ginny laughed again. “Don't play dumb with me, Hermione,” she said in a high, squeaky voice
she thought sounded just like Hermione's. Her voice took on its usual tone as she said, “You
know exactly what I mean. You love Harry. You're *in love* with him. You have been since
you and Ron broke up.”

Hermione recovered from her initial surprise. “Any feelings I may have for Harry are none of
your business,” she said.

“Oh, but they are, Hermione,” Ginny retorted. “They are every bit my business. In case you
haven't noticed, I am Harry's girlfriend, not you.”

Hermione looked away, staring out a window to the grounds.

“That kills you, doesn't it?” Ginny asked then. “You could have handled your feelings for
him if he had stayed single, couldn't you have? But he asked me out. He initiated a
relationship with me. He chose *me* over *you*.” With a sick sort of joy, she realized
the effect her words were having on Hermione. “He would never even consider you as more than a
friend. You're his sister, and nothing you do will ever change that. He loves you, yes, but not
the way he loves me. He'll never hold your hand or kiss you, and he will *never* return
your feelings, Hermione, so you might as well give up on him.

Hermione turned around quickly and fled the room, tears streaming down her face.

Ginny finished packing her trunk and crawled into bed, satisfied that Hermione was no longer a
threat to The Plan.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Ron and Ginny were set to leave in the morning just after breakfast. Ginny spent the time before
the departure studying how the potion affected the people who touched Harry.

Parvati Patil brushed his arm while they were passing through the portrait hole and yelped when
an electric sort of shock ran up her arm. Cho Chang ran into him as she sped around a corner,
causing a painful looking welt to appear on her arm. Ron clapped him on the shoulder in
congratulations after having successfully maneuvered the Grand Staircases on the way down to
breakfast, making his face turn a light shade of blue.

All the little things that happened in the hours before and during breakfast made Harry and his
group of friends (except for Ginny, of course) extremely confused. Nobody knew what was going on,
and not one of them had made the connection between touching Harry and the strange occurrences.
Hermione became suspicious when a Hufflepuff fifth year came to introduce himself as a junior
writer for the Daily Prophet, and his hand grew sharp quills where he'd shaken Harry's
hand. She watched Ginny throughout the meal, but Ginny had practiced keeping a blank and
emotionless expression and was confident in The Plan's foolproof step-by-step procedure.

It soon came time for Ron and Ginny to leave. Harry and Ron attempted to embrace before he left,
but it became apparent that this was futile, as Ron couldn't get within a foot of Harry after
the first try.

“I have absolutely no idea what's going on,” Harry said, looking confused. “But I'll try
to find out and fix it before you two get back.”

“Oh, don't worry, Harry,” said Ginny sweetly, with a glance at Hermione. “I'm sure
everything will be alright.” Ron stood beside Harry, twirling his wand and trying several different
incantations to see if anything changed his and Harry's situation. Just as Ginny reached up and
pressed her lips to Harry's, there was a resounding crack, and Ginny's hair set fire.
“RON!” she screamed, trying desperately to put it out.

In the end, Hermione conjured a bucket of water, which she poured over Ginny's head, but a
good five inches of her thick red hair had been burned off by that time. Ron attempted to divert
some of Ginny's anger by hugging Hermione goodbye, something that would usually have put his
sister in a bit of a better mood. But no such luck. She exploded with rage at Ron, and yelled at
him all the way to the carriage. She assumed that one of his spells had gone wrong and caused the
fire.

She didn't even consider that the fire might have been caused by her lips on Harry's.
She didn't think to look back at Harry and Hermione as she and Ron climbed into a carriage. She
didn't see Harry put a comforting arm around a miserable looking Hermione's shoulders. And
she certainly didn't see Hermione's complete lack of electric shocks, painful welts, blue
face, or flaming hair.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

**Hehehehe - Good thing Ginny didn't look back, or else we'd have no story! Wasn't
Ginny horrible? I really can't stand her anyway, so this story is just a way to vent my
frustration at her.**

**Review! Review!**

**~ Violet Kefira**

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4. Muffin Infatuations
----------------------



**Here I am, back with another chapter to fulfill your bestial desires for H/Hr fluff! So, yes,
the last chapter was decisively evil on Ginny's part (can I get a resounding “BOO!”?). There is
a wondermous amount of fluffity in this chapter. But it's pre-relationship fluff, so don't
worry, there's still many chapters to go. On to the story!!!**

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 4 ~ Muffin Infatuations**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

In the days after Ron and Ginny's departure, Harry was a bit at a loss. Strange things kept
happening to the people around him, and he couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong with
him.

Every one of the strange events - Seamus's orange eyes, Headmistress McGonagall's broken
nails, Neville's swollen nose - all seemed to happen only when Harry was around. He
couldn't figure it out. Sure, he'd bumped into Seamus, accidentally grazed McGonagall's
hand, and poked Neville for being cheeky, but he hadn't done anything remotely magical or
malicious.

Hermione had told him that some sort of spell had obviously been cast, but she didn't know
what it was. She was researching possible spells when he found her in the Library late one
afternoon.

“Why are you still down here, Hermione?” he asked, taking the seat at her right side.
“Shouldn't you be at supper?”

Hermione looked up from her book with a smile. “Thank you for being concerned about me, Harry.
But I'm fine. I ate a large lunch, you know.”

“You did not,” Harry stated matter-of-factly. “I was with you at lunch, and all you did was grab
a ham sandwich before rushing off.”

Hermione flushed prettily, and Harry felt a stirring in his stomach. *I really should not have
had the kidney pie at lunch today*, he thought. “Well, I'm not very hungry,” Hermione said,
and her stomach rumbled.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I can see that you couldn't possibly need any food now. I
guess I'll just have to eat these cornbread muffins all by my lonesome self.” He produced three
steaming muffins from his pocket, placing them strategically near Hermione so that the aroma wafted
towards her enticingly.

But Hermione only huffed and turned back to her book.

Harry pushed the muffins a few inches closer.

Hermione glanced at the muffins for a moment, then looked back at her book.

Harry pushed the muffins a few inches closer.

Hermione turned a page.

Harry pushed the muffins a few inches closer.

Hermione scribbled a sentence on her notepad.

Harry pushed the muffins a fe -

“Oh, for heaven's sake!” Hermione exclaimed, and snatched up one of the muffins. She put it
in her mouth, chewed for a few moments, swallowed deliberately, then glared at Harry.

Harry knew she wasn't really mad, merely annoyed that he'd gotten her to do what he
wanted so easily. “There,” he said soothingly, “Doesn't that make you feel better?”

Hermione glowered, and Harry laughed. “What is so funny?” Hermione asked scathingly.

“You are acting like a two-year-old, you know that?” Harry said, chuckling. Hermione punched him
playfully in the arm, then started laughing herself.

And Harry, as he and Hermione laughed - laughed at nothing in particular it now seemed, a
beautiful sense of peace fell upon him. There hadn't been much laughter during the months of
the War. Less even, he thought, in the weeks afterwards. So many had died. So many dear, close
friends had fallen to the curse of a Death Eater. Dumbledore had only been the beginning.

After one great teacher and mentor came another. Professor Flitwick was killed next. Then came
Ernie McMillan, not one of Harry's closest friends, but still someone he knew and saw every
day. A small group of Ravenclaw fourth years had been abducted on their way back from Hogsmeade.
Hermione hadn't even known any of them, but she'd sobbed into Ron's shoulder that
weekend anyway.

All of it had been too much for her. Too much for anyone. There wasn't a single person in
the castle who hadn't feared what the next day might bring. If they would wake up in their
beds, or in a prison cell, guarded by one of Voldemort's followers.

Even though Harry had known in his head that it wasn't his fault, he came to blame himself
for the things that were happening. *If only I were doing a better job finding the Horcruxes*,
he'd think. Or, *If only I could focus on my Occlumency*. He'd hated himself for the
grief and pain he thought he had caused.

And then came Ginny. Vibrant, funny, beautiful Ginny, with her long red hair and musical laugh.
She had told him that she needed him. That she knew he wanted to protect her by staying apart, but
their lives were too short and too dangerous to not live for the moment. And he'd believed her.
Agreed with her. He'd wanted the same thing desperately for the past few months.

He soon came to realize that it wasn't going to be enough. Ginny's small, delicate hand
in his, her head on his shoulder, their daily snogs - none of it was enough to distract him. The
pain was still there. His responsibility never went away. Ginny just put it at bay.

But that wasn't right. So he had broken up with her. It was hard, there were tears, and `I
love you's, but he broke it off and they were the better for it. Harry and Hermione had found
the Horcruxes; he'd fought Voldemort in the final battle, and come home for his seventh year at
Hogwarts with a much lighter heart.

So he and Ginny got back together. And it was perfect. She liked him, and he liked her. There
was a connection and chemistry, something Harry had never felt before. She was beautiful, and her
kisses put him in heaven. So, he should have been happy. But he wasn't. And he didn't know
why.

“HARRY!” Hermione's shout suddenly cut through to his mind. He yelped and fell out of his
chair. “Oh, Harry!” Hermione hurried to his side. “Are you alright?”

Harry shook his head to clear it. “Yeah, I'm fine. Guess I just zoned out there for a
minute.”

“You were pretty out of it,” Hermione said. “I had to call you seven times before you
responded.”

“Sorry, Hermione,” he said, picking himself up off the ground. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?” Hermione inquired, taking her seat again.

“Dumbledore,” Harry said, and Hermione's face immediately became softer. “And the other ones
who died. About Voldemort, and Ginny.” Hermione's eyes blazed for a moment, but Harry
didn't notice.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Hermione hesitantly placed her hand over his. Harry
considered the hand for a moment, before turning his hand around and intertwining his fingers with
hers.

“No, I'm okay,” he said, even though he didn't mean it. But he felt it would be
inappropriate to talk to Hermione about his girl problems.

Hermione looked a bit put out. “Well, alright,” she said. “But I want you to know that I'll
be waiting for you right here, if you ever need me.”

Harry smiled. “I know.”

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

***giggles* Harry is positively scrumptious! I love him to death, yes I do. I hope you all
liked it!**

**To all my German reviewers:**

**Nachprüfung****!** **Nachprüfung****!** **Nachprüfung****!**

**~ Violet Kefira**

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5. We knew Hermione was good for something
------------------------------------------



**Hello!! Y'all were all so wonderful after the last chapter! Such wondermous reviews I
got! Y'all totally made my week, by the way. So… right, this chapter! It's not as short as
chapter two, and it's got some fluff stuff in the first segment, but it isn't all that
long.**

***dodges flying vegetables* Yes, I know!! I'm sorry!! Longer chapters soon, my
ducks!**

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 5 ~ We knew Hermione was good for something**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

After her conversation with Harry of the previous afternoon, Hermione felt much better about the
whole ordeal of…well, life. She knew that Harry loved her dearly, no matter what Ginny said. Though
she knew Ginny was just being an `overzealous jealous' - as Hermione's mother liked to say
- Hermione couldn't help but believe that some of what she had said was true.

She and Harry had been best friends for seven years. One girl, albeit a pretty, fun-loving
Weasley girl, could not come between something as strong as that. And Hermione knew that was what
Ginny was trying to do. She viewed Hermione as a threat to be dealt with accordingly, though for
the life of her, Hermione couldn't even begin to fathom why.

Obviously, Hermione had not been quite as good at keeping her feelings hidden as she thought she
had been. But she had tried so hard! She'd never let herself daydream about him in public,
never stared at him during classes, never jumped at his touch.

Oh. Well. Maybe she had.

But she hadn't thought that Ginny of all people would notice anything like that. Ginny
didn't understand her own emotions, let alone those of the people around her. Maybe the new,
more observant Ginny had come from being on the look-out for girls after Harry. (There were, after
all, an awful lot of them.)

Which didn't surprise Hermione in the least little bit. She happened to be one of them. Not
like Lavender or Padma were, giggling every time he came round. And she was certainly not like that
fourth year Hufflepuff - the girl had a sodding shrine to him in her dorm room closet. But she was
just as head-over-heals for him as they were.

It had been quite a cataclysmic event when she'd finally realized what all the strange
feelings meant. Looking back, she thought she'd been just a tad bit dramatic, collapsing on her
bed in tears at the revelation. But she'd only been sixteen, and she'd just gotten out of
her relationship with Ron. She'd tried desperately not to fall for anyone who would be as
ill-suited for her as Ron had been.

But then there was Harry. Her sweet, caring, lovable Harry. Harry, who asked politely for help
with his homework. Harry, who was so bashful around most girls. Harry, who treated her with respect
and care, something she'd come to never expect from the general male population. Harry, who she
loved and adored with all her heart.

No, nothing Ginny could ever say would change the bond that was between her and Harry.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Harry and Hermione were sitting at breakfast in the Great Hall the morning after their talk in
the Library when it happened again.

Dean, who was staying over for just a week or two until some unpleasant relatives left his
parents' house, had taken a seat at Harry's right side. He reached for the platter of eggs
and accidentally knocked Harry's elbow with his own. Immediately, his hair turned a violent
shade of purple, and a horrid looking weal appeared on his left temple.

Harry groaned and put his head in hands. “The Devil take me now, I'm accursed,” he said
dramatically. Dean patted his back reassuringly, and his little finger turned into a quill pen.

“Aargh!” he screamed, staring at his hand in horror. Harry just moaned again and began to beat
his head against the table. Draco Malfoy, who was also staying over for reasons unbeknownst to
Hermione, just laughed at them both.

Hermione, though, was looking at Harry curiously. Her gaze flicked back and forth between Harry
and Dean as thoughts raced behind her eyes. Suddenly, she understood. Whatever Ginny had done to
Harry was obviously making all the strange things happening, and she thought she knew why.

“Harry!” she exclaimed. He looked up. “I know what's wrong!”

He stared up at her hopefully. “Well, then, what is it?”

“You can't touch people,” she said matter-of-factly.

Harry looked confused. “What?”

Hermione huffed. “You can't touch people,” she said again. “Someone's put a hex on you
that made you unable to touch anyone.” Hermione thought she had a pretty darn good idea who, but
she thought it best not to accuse Ginny forthright.

“How did you come up with that?” Harry asked.

“Well, it's obvious, isn't it?” Hermione replied. “Every time you've touched someone
over the last couple of days, something weird has happened to them. Like just now with Dean. He
knocked your elbow and his hair turned blue.”

“Purple,” said Dean. Hermione glared at him. “Right. Sorry.”

Hermione turned back to Harry. “It makes sense of everything that's been happening,” she
told him. “The strange things only happen when you're around, and only when you've been in
close contact with that person.”

Harry looked thoughtful. “Well, I don't know,” he said skeptically.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly and stuck out her hand. “Here,” she said. “Touch me.”

“But, Hermione,” Harry protested, “If what you say is true, I'll hurt you.”

“Oh, don't worry about me, Harry,” Hermione retorted. “Dean's hair is already beginning
to fade.” It was true. His hair was rapidly turning back to its original dark color. “I'll be
fine in just a moment.”

“Well….”Harry hesitated. At a pleading look from Hermione, he relented. “Alright. But don't
expect me to feel sorry for you if giant boils appear on every inch of your body.” Timidly he
reached out his hand. Hermione turned away slightly and braced herself for the worst. Harry's
fingertips brushed hers and -

Nothing happened. Hermione opened her eyes and peered at her hand curiously. “Is there anything
wrong with me?” she asked.

“Not that I can see,” Harry answered. “What do you think that means?”

“Maybe it doesn't work because the two of you are best friends,” Dean suggested.

But Hermione shook her head. “Ron couldn't touch him either,” she told him. She didn't
understand it. It should've done something highly unpleasant to her. Maybe Ginny hadn't
done quite as good a job on the potion as she thought she had.

“There's got to be something else,” Harry said. “Some sort of reason why I don't hurt
you.”

“Well, I don't know why this happened,” Hermione said, “But we'll figure it out
eventually. Come on, Harry. We've got research to do.”

Much to Harry's dismay, she dragged him off to the Library. He had a feeling that there
wouldn't be much free time for him from now on.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

**HERMIONE! The brilliance of her astounds me! Why, yes, yes it does, and I'm the author!
*snorts* I crack myself up.**

**REVIEW!! REVIEW!! REVIEW!!**

**~ Violet Kefira**

-->



6. A hastily written postscript
-------------------------------



**Hi-hi, chickadees. I decided on an earlier update (everybody say `YAY!') because…you need
one. This chapter is longer than the last one, though not nea****rly as long as the one after
it. So be happy!**

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 6 ~ A hastily written postscript**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Four days. Four horrendous, boring, bloody days. Four days had passed since Hermione figured out
what the problem was. The two of them - Harry and Hermione - had spent all of that time in the
Library, scanning old, dusty tomes for anything that looked remotely promising.

Every now and then, one of the two would happen upon something interesting.

“Oh, look, Harry,” Hermione would say. “This might be a possibility.”

Harry would scoot over towards her. “What does it look like?” he would ask.

“Well, what it says is - oh, wait, never mind. If this was the one, you would've burst into
flame by now.”

And then they would turn back to their respective books in silence.

This happened every few minutes for *four days*. Harry thought he might go insane. Which,
taking into account his decidedly more unkempt appearance, his inability to form coherent sentences
at odd hours of the day, and the fact that he hadn't had any physical contact without dire
consequences in at least a week, wasn't such an illogical idea.

Harry knew that Hermione was beginning to worry about him. He'd look up from an essay or a
book and catch her staring at him concernedly, if not a bit longingly. This both confused him and,
strangely, made him happy. He couldn't even begin to guess why, but he found that she became a
bit flustered every time he touched her, which he was doing more often than ever before after
learning she was the only one he *could* touch.

He decided to write to Remus for help, thinking that, as an expert on Defense Against the Dark
Arts, he might recognize the symptoms and be able to point them to a solution.

*Dear Remus,* he wrote,

*How has your Christmas holiday been? Mine has been alright, but something has gone wrong.
That's what I'm writing about.*

*A few mornings ago, the day Ginny and Ron left for the* *Burrow;* *a lot of strange
things began to happen. People broke out in boils and their hair turned strange colors. Hermione
figured out that it was a result of my touching people. Something weird happens to everybody I
touch, except for Hermione.*

*We think somebody's cursed me, but we can't figure out which one it is, especially
because of this thing with me being able to touch* *only Hermione**. Do you know what it
is?*

*Hope you're doing well. Write back soon.*

*Harry*

*P.S. What does it mean when a girl stares at you and blushes when you touch her? I sort of
suspect…well, I think it means she fancies me. I don't really know what to do about it.*

The post-script he added rather hastily, as Hermione had just climbed in through the portrait
hole. He folded the letter, addressed it to Remus, and sent Hedwig off.

“Hello, Hermione,” he greeted her when she took a seat at his table.

“Hey, Harry,” she replied. “Who was that you were writing to?”

“Remus. I thought he might be able to help us,” Harry said.

Hermione beamed at him. “Good idea! I didn't even think of that.” Harry felt rather pleased
with himself.

There were a few moments of silence, then Harry, thinking he could test out his theory, reached
forward and took Hermione's hand. “You know,” he began, “Just because I wrote to Remus
doesn't mean that I don't think you can find the solution. You're the brightest witch
of your generation, after all. If anyone can figure this out, it's you.”

Hermione blushed, and rather prettily, Harry thought. “Thank you, Harry,” she said. “I'll
try my best for you.” She looked away as she said the last bit, looking embarrassed.

Harry smiled as a fuzzy sort of warmth flowed from the hand holding Hermione's and
throughout his whole body. Wishing he had the courage to keep his hand around hers, he withdrew it.
He thought he heard Hermione sigh, but couldn't be sure.

*Nothing is the way it's supposed to be any more,* he thought. The feelings he found
boiling inside him for his best friend were new and a little terrifying. He knew that he was with
Ginny, that he *liked* being with Ginny, or had at least liked it at one point. But simply
holding Hermione's hand couldn't be considered cheating on his girlfriend.

No, cheating would be kissing her or flirting with her. Cheating would be smiling at her in that
special way he knew made her flustered. Cheating would be falling asleep on the couch with her
after a long night of studying. And he had never done any of those things.

But…was it cheating if he *wanted* to?

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

***scream****s***** Harry figured it out!!! Gorsh, I thought it was going to take him
years to realize his feelings. Everything's a bit on the rocks just now, but it will soon be
resolved between Harry and Hermione. I'm promising a horrible, wonderful cliffy at the end of
chap 7!! (You're all going to hate me.)**

**Review! Review! Review!**

**~ Violet Kefira**

-->



7. Hedwig: master of horrible timing
------------------------------------



**Afternoon, my dears. I'm most pleased to present to you this next chapter. Every single
one of you will be quite happy to slowly and painfully murder me at the end of this one, so get
those sharp objects ready.**

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 7 ~ Hedwig: master** **of horrible timing**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

*Harry stood on dry, cracked ground. Smoke rose from the smoldering remains of bodies and
buildings. The sky was gray, and black clouds were rapidly forming to the west.*

*He realized he was tightly grasping his wand in his hand, so he began to slowly move forward.
The landscape was unfamiliar and frightening. With shock, he realized that several of the bodies
were those of people he knew. Many of those who had died in the war, who he knew* *had all
been buried with stirring* *ceremonies, were strewn about in a helter-skelter fashion, looks
of terror or agony on all their faces.*

*It didn't make any sense. The battle was over, these people were at rest. Harry was
utterly certain of it. But there was Professor Flitwick, a wicked looking dagger buried in his
chest. And here was Justin Finch-Fletchy, missing an arm. Now he knew something was wrong. Everyone
he saw had been murdered in a Muggle fashion. What was going on?*

*And then he saw him. Voldemort, Wormtail sniveling by his side, had his wand pointed at
Hermione, who was wri**th**ing on the ground in silent agony.*

*`Anyone but her,' Harry thought despairingly. `He can't have her.' In a rush of
idiocy, he dashed forward and pointed his wand at Voldemort. The killing curse was on the tip of
his tongue, but Wormtail spotted him and conjured a sort of red bubble around* *his master,
Hermione, and him**self**.*

*“NO!” Harry screamed. He threw himself at the shield as Voldemort laughed, casting Crucio
after Crucio on* *the* *pathetic figure bef**ore him. The shield resisted
Harry**, despite his pushing and cursing at it. Harry wept despondently, unable to form a
coherent thought to drive away the knowledge that Hermione was going to die**,* *and he
couldn't stop it.*

*Suddenly, Hermione sat up and looked at him. Her eyes were empty of their usual shine, and
her face was pale and drawn.*

*“How could you let this happen to me, Harry?” she asked, her voice a hollow monotone.*

*“I tried not to, Hermione, I promise I did!” Harry* *felt drained**. “I never
wanted it to be like this.”*

*“You're lying,” she spat. “You couldn't care less what happens to me.”*

*“THAT'S NOT TRUE!” he shouted, pounding on the bubble. “I care more than
anything.”*

*“No, you don't, Potter,” she replied. All of a sudden, she* *seemed quite well. She
stood, looking much taller than* *he had ever* *known her to be**. Harry realized
with horror that her eyes had become the same blood red that Voldemort's own eyes were. “You
didn't even like me back at school.”*

*“No, no, Hermione, I've always wanted you,” Harry cried, horrified at Hermione's
manner.*

*“Oh, don't play games with me, Harry,” she said, a hint of a smirk forming on her
face.* *She moved to stand by Voldemort, who* *put his arm around her waist. “You know
how you felt about Ginny.”*

*“But I'm over all of that!” Harry exclaimed, anxious to explain. “I love* you*,
Hermione.”*

*He saw a flicker of a softer emotion pass over her face, but then Voldemort drew her closer
to him and stroked her* *straight* *black hair lovingly**,* *and the softness
was gone. “You are pathetic, Potter,” she told him mockingly. “Playing with others' emotions
just to save your meaningless life. But it doesn't matter any more. Good bye, Harry.” She
raised her wand. “Avada Kedavra.”*

*Harry had only time to shout, “HERMIONE!” before the curse hit him and -*

He woke up. For a few moments, he lay in his bed, breathing in precious air. *A dream*, he
thought. *Simply a dream*. But it had been so real. Voldemort had looked just as hideous as
usual, Wormtail just as pathetically loyal, Hermione just as -

*Oh, God. Hermione.* Harry shot out of bed. He searched blindly for his glasses, slapping
them on his face when he finally found them. Realizing that his t-shirt was soaked with sweat, he
peeled it off in disgust, then raced out the door and down the stairs.

“Hermione!”

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Hermione jerked out of a fitful sleep, hearing Harry's voice shout her name. In an instant,
she'd sped out of bed, not bothering to put a robe on over her shorts and tank top. She
wrenched the door open and flew down the stairs.

“Harry!” she cried as she ran. “What's wrong?” She reached the bottom and was caught up in a
tight embrace by Harry.

*A very shirtless Harry*, the less appropriate part of her mind told her. Desperately
attempting not to be even remotely swooned by the muscle-y goodness that was Harry's chest,
Hermione wrapped her arms around him without another moment's hesitation.

“What's wrong?” she asked again.

**OOO**

Harry clung to Hermione, blissfully drowning in the sheer *feel* of her bare skin against
his. He hadn't realized how dearly he'd missed her hugs. Anyone's hugs, for that
matter.

“Bad dream,” he muttered noncommittally, loathe to leave the embrace.

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered quietly, her breath sending a rather unmanly shiver down his spine.
“Voldemort?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted. Against his better judgment, he moved so he wasn't holding her so
tightly, though he still had his arms wrapped around her. “And…you.”

**OOO**

Hermione stared incredulously at Harry. “Me?” she asked skeptically. Harry was so upset because
of a dream about *her*? That simply didn't make too much sense.

“Yes, you,” Harry said, a smirk finding its way onto his face. Hermione stifled the sudden urge
to kiss that maddening smirk away. She was thankful for his arms surrounding her, as her knees
might have given way.

“What happened?” she inquired, feeling awkward with her hands lightly grazing the bare skin of
his back.

**OOO**

Harry wasn't quite sure when the decision to tell Hermione everything had been made. All he
knew was that he was going to, and no amount of failing courage would stop him.

“Voldemort Crucioed you,” he began, his eyes darkening at the memory. “I was just about to kill
him, but then Wormtail saw me and put a sort of force field around the three of you. I couldn't
break through it.”

“You were helpless,” Hermione said, looking understanding. He nodded dumbly, and she moved to
embrace him again, but he stopped her.

“Let me finish,” he said firmly.

“There's more?” she asked.

**OOO**

Hermione felt a heavy sickness fill her stomach. Harry was obviously very distraught, and also
obviously determined to tell her exactly what had happened. She wouldn't interrupt again.

Harry nodded in answer to her question. “I knew you were going to die,” he said desolately. “And
I couldn't do anything at all about it. But then you sat up and looked at me.” Hermione
suddenly had the feeling of being held by someone who was very far away.

“Harry?” she said after a long silence. He started and looked down at her as if surprised to see
her there.

**OOO**

The sudden realization of Hermione's presence shook Harry. He'd been lost back in that
forsaken battle place.

“You told me that you couldn't believe I'd let him do that to you,” he said then. The
hollow tone of his voice surprised and scared him, knowing it sounded so much like that of
Hermione's in his dream. “I tried to explain that I had done my best to stop it, that I'd
never wanted anything to happen to you, but you wouldn't listen.”

“It must have been horrible,” Hermione whispered.

Harry nodded. “It was,” he said. “You didn't believe anything I said. Then you stood up - as
if you weren't in a bit of pain. And your eyes were red, just like Voldemort's.” Hermione
shuddered in his arms.

“I'm so sorry, Harry,” she said.

“You haven't actually done anything,” he replied. “There's nothing to be sorry for.”

“What happened after that?”

Harry hesitated just a moment before answering. “You said that I didn't care about you. And
that I had never even liked you when we were at Hogwarts. I - I tried to tell you that I had always
wanted you, but you didn't even consider it.” Harry was mortified to find that tears were
running down his face. “You said that I had always fancied Ginny, and you didn't believe me
when I said - when I said that I…that I loved *you*, and not her.”

**OOO**

Hermione's pulse raced. Her mind shut down. Her heart pounded. Harry's words shook her
to the very core. “Harry….” she whispered, but he put a finger over her lips.

Shaking his head, he said, “Don't stop me now, Hermione, or I won't ever start again.”
He removed his finger from her lips and slowly leaned towards her. Hermione closed her eyes and
-

There was a tap at the window. Hermione's eyes flew open to see Harry looking extremely
frustrated. He swore colorfully under his breath, but relinquished his hold on her to go and open
the window for Hedwig. Hermione placed a hand over her heart and leaned up against the wall for
support.

“It's my reply from Remus,” Harry told her after having opened the letter. “He says it's
probably a basic defensive potion, and we could most likely find it in our Potions textbooks.” He
failed to mention the small piece at the bottom that read:

*As to your question, I would say that, yes, it means the girl fancies you. I can't tell
you what to do about it, but I can give you advice. Never act as if you return feelings that you
don't have, simply to save someone else pain. It only causes more pain in the end. But it seems
to me that you already know how you feel about this girl. Give Hermione my best.*

Harry could practically hear the smirk behind those last words. Of course Remus would know it
was Hermione he was talking about.

“Let's get to work then, shall we?” Hermione asked shakily. Something had drastically
changed in the last few moments, and she didn't know how things were going to be from then
on.

Harry merely nodded his head and trotted up the stairs to get his textbook. Hermione took the
armchair by the fire and sat down to think. It was going to be a long night.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

***kills Hedwig* EVIL BIRD!!! She must be an R/Hr shipper.**

**Told ya you'd hate me.**

**But don't kill me just yet. The next chapter is wonderificously satisfying.**

***loves you all***

**~ Violet Kefira**

-->



8. Toque Amoroso
----------------



**UGH! It's been over a week since I last updated! Gorsh, I'm evil. Sorries. I totally
forgot. My life is positively hectic right now. Blame the education system.**

**Anyways, you all hated me for the end of the last chapter. *laughs maniacally* That was fun.
Or not fun. Well, it was both. This chapter is wonderificously…wonderful in terms of fluffity.
There's positively gobs of it.**

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 8 ~ Toque Amoroso**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Up in his dorm room, as he rummaged around for his Potions textbook, Harry cursed himself under
his breath. How could he have been so stupid as to try and kiss Hermione? His best friend, whom he
loved more than anyone in the world, and he'd nearly kissed her. Never mind that she'd put
up hardly any objection; he really shouldn't have done that.

He found the textbook under a pile of broken quills, but didn't feel quite up to facing
Hermione again. Instead, he sat down on the edge of his bed and propped his head in his hands.

*Why?* he asked himself over and over again. *Why on earth did I have to go and do
something like that?* Ginny had left him alone with Hermione for the whole of Christmas
holidays, had trusted him enough to do something like that, and he'd repaid her with what?
Falling in love with his best friend? Harry wondered what had possessed him.

Hermione had, that's who. Harry knew he couldn't kid himself for long. It didn't
matter that Ginny was beautiful and witty and fun to be with; she wasn't Hermione. Hermione was
clever and loyal; she was passionate and full of fire. She was brave and daring, and Merlin strike
him down if she wasn't just as beautiful as or more so than Ginny was.

Harry groaned. It was all so confusing. Better to just go and have it out with Hermione while he
was at least a little certain that he had feelings for her. Standing, he took the textbook again
and walked down the stairs to the Common Room.

Hermione looked up when he entered the room. A potions textbook was sitting open in her lap. Her
face was pale and she opened her mouth to speak, but Harry raised a hand to stop her.

“Let me have my piece, Hermione,” he said. “What just happened - or rather, what almost just
happened - was, well, it was -”

“We have work to do,” Hermione interrupted, her voice stern. Harry was surprised.

Harry shook his head. “You need to know that -”

“Try the defensive potions first,” Hermione cut him off again. Harry was baffled, but decided
not to push it. He opened the textbook to the defensive section and scanned the list of contents.
“*Toque Amoroso*, to be exact,” she continued.

“You've found it, then?” he asked, and beamed at her.

A flicker of a happier emotion passed over her face, but she was soon stony again. “Yes. Just
look at the potion, Harry,” she said.

Harry found her tone and over all attitude to be, at the moment, very un-Hermione-ish. But he
turned his eyes to the page describing the potion.

**Toque Amoroso**

**When mixed together, the five ingredients of the toque amoroso**

**potion will - if brewed correctly - create a watery, clear liquid.**

**The potion is only effective if** **administered within twenty-four**

**hours of its brewing.**

**The person who drinks the potion will immediately be overtaken**

**by** **a whitish glow and an invisible shield, making it impossible**

**for that person to be touched i****n anyway. Consequences of touching**

**include abnormally colored skin or hair, painful sores, cuts and bruises,**

**and other peculiarities.**

**Only a person who is the object of the drinker's innermost desire can**

**sustain any sort of physical contact with the drinker without dire**

**consequences.**

Harry sat in stunned silence for a few moments. Then, the realization of exactly what it all
meant hit him, and he reddened immediately. “Well,” he said finally.

“Yes, well,” Hermione replied.

Harry decided it might be best to not meet her eyes just yet. “I suppose you've figured out
what that means, then, eh?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I have,” she said, her voice much softer and more pleasant than it had been a moment ago.
“Harry, look at me.”

This seemed a rather bad idea, so Harry kept his eyes on the book in front of him.

“Harry, *please*?” Hermione's voice was full of concern. Against his much wiser and
better judgment, Harry looked up and into her eyes. They were warm and a little comforting, and
Harry began to feel a bit better about the whole situation.

“Now, that's better, isn't it?” Hermione asked kindly. Harry remembered that this would
be the part of the story where Hermione let him down easy and he was forced to spend the rest of
his days pining pitifully away for her.

He looked away again.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. “Honestly, Harry,” she huffed. There was a moment of silence,
then Harry suddenly found himself looking into a pair of soft, honey brown eyes. Hermione was
gazing at him with a curious sort of smile on her face. “Whatever am I to do with you?” she
asked.

Harry was just about to open his mouth and say something very dashing, he was sure, when this
endeavor was made quite impossible by Hermione's lips pressed softly to his. Dear Merlin, but
she was kissing him, wasn't she?

Just as he realized this, he felt a hand bury itself in his messy hair, and another wrap around
his middle. This seemed the sort of thing one was supposed to do, so Harry mimicked the gesture to
Hermione and let his eyes flutter closed. He registered that this felt much better than any kiss
Ginny had ever given him, but was soon too immersed in *feeling* to care.

Much too soon, Harry felt Hermione pull away and opened his eyes. She was looking back at him
with a wicked sort of smirk. “That was…nice,” he told her. That was, of course, a ridiculous
understatement, but Hermione seemed to guess what he meant, because she laughed and kissed him
again.

Harry decided he like this kissing Hermione business. He told her so, and she laughed again.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

“What do you suppose we'll have to do about Ginny?” Harry asked later that night as they
snuggled together on a couch. Hermione had told him what she'd seen Ginny do, and about the
confrontation they'd had before she left.

Hermione sighed. “We'll have to tell her,” she said.

“I guess so.” Harry stroked Hermione's hair softly. “I don't think that she'll take
it very well.”

Hermione smiled a secret smile, making sure that Harry couldn't see. “Do you think that it
would be easier if you told her in person?” she asked.

Harry considered the idea. “That might be better, actually,” he admitted. “The Weasleys would be
happy to have us, even though it's on sort of short notice.”

“Er, I don't know exactly how good it would be to have me around the house while all this
chatting with Ginny is going on,” Hermione said nervously. “I think I'll stay and catch up on
Transfiguration.”

“You finished all your homework yesterday,” Harry told her, smiling. “And I refuse to be any
where near Ginny as of now without you. I simply don't trust her any more.”

There was a prolonged silence after that. Then, Hermione said, “She's going to hate me, you
know.”

“I know,” Harry replied.

“She'll not be so fond of you, either.”

“I know.”

“I doubt that she'll speak to us for at least two months.”

“I know.”

Hermione smiled up at Harry. “But it's worth it just to be with you.”

Harry smiled back. “I know.”

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

***is happy with self* YYAAAYY!!!! Finally! Took them long enough, didn't it? They're
both idiots.**

**Review, my ducks!**

**~ Violet Kefira**

-->



9. Minerva Misconstrued
-----------------------



**HHHHIIII!!!! I feel like such an awful person. I make you wait for an entire week before
posting each chapter. And then my chapters aren't even that long. *sigh* I hate myself. But I
suppose I'll get over that. Surely I've got some brownie points left over from the last
chapter's snoggage? Yes? Eh, oh well.**

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 9 ~** **Minerva Misconstrued**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

When Mr. Potter and Miss Granger requested to be given permission to spend the rest of the
holiday with the Weasleys, Minerva McGonagall was rather inclined not to allow it. It was, after
all, part of the school rules that no child should leave the school at any given time during the
year unless there was a dire family emergency.

She told the two of them this, and was met with a series of frantic pleas, all centered on
something or other they needed to tell Ginny Weasley. McGonagall was aware that Miss Weasley and
Mr. Potter were an item of sorts, and, though she frowned upon such things at such a young age, she
was a bit soft when it came to Mr. Potter, so she agreed to consider the idea.

After much thought and skimming over of the school rules, Minerva decided that, no, it would not
be proper to let the two leave. Surely they could wait until Miss Weasley was back in school to
tell her, or send her an owl.

But they would not consider it. Mr. Potter in particular was adamant that Miss Weasley be told
in person and as soon as possible. “What on earth is so important?” McGonagall asked eventually,
becoming utterly exasperated with the pair.

They exchanged a glance. “Well, you see, Professor,” began Potter slowly, “It's a bit of a
rather personal issue. If we could just see Ginny, it would be alright. Maybe take a day or two out
there, Professor, anything will do.”

McGonagall peered at him sternly over her glasses. “Students are allowed to leave the school
premises for reasons other than educational only if a family emergency has come up,” she said.
“Please tell me what exactly the matter is.”

Miss Granger took Potter's hand to draw him off to the side. She began to whisper to him in
a harried manner. Just at that time, Minerva noticed a few things that were different about the two
young people. For one, they were standing much closer together than they had ever done before. Two,
Granger had taken Harry's hand, rather than his arm, as was per usual. Also, a fond sort of
smile was playing on Potter's lips as Hermione whispered to him.

*Ah,* McGonagall thought. *So that's it. There's been a change in feelings and
they must make Miss Weasley aware. Well, I suppose it would cause much less strife when next term
begins. I'll allow the request.* What she could not admit to herself was that the knowledge
that Potter and Granger were together had given her quite a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. But such
feelings were not appropriate in a witch her age, so she ignored it.

“Miss Granger. Mister Potter,” she called. They both turned to look at her. “I have changed my
mind. You may go to the Weasleys' home if Arthur and Molly agree to it.” She began to rummage
around in her desk draw for a piece of parchment. “You can write to them now for their
permission.”

“Oh, thank you, Professor,” Granger said. “But…ma'am?”

McGonagall looked up. “Miss Granger?”

The girl looked a bit confused. “What made you change your mind?” she asked. Potter, too, looked
curious.

“Ah, Miss Granger,” she began, and noticed a tone of her voice she had not used in quite some
time. “Things change, and they must be taken care of. Surely you can agree?” She gazed pointedly
from her to Potter until Hermione blushed and uttered a little `oh!' of surprise.

“You will send this by owl to the Weasleys,” McGonagall told them, holding out the parchment to
Harry. “When the answer arrives, you will notify me of the arrangements. Thank you, Mister Potter.
Miss Granger.” She nodded at them both in an obvious dismissal. Harry gave her a knowing smile and
took Hermione's hand as he left the room.

McGonagall chuckled uncharacteristically after the door closed behind them. Perhaps she needed
to know more about the lives of her students.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

The Weasleys were gathered around the kitchen table for breakfast when Hedwig came sweeping in.
“Oh, Harry's sent me something!” Ginny cried, and practically tore the parchment from
Hedwig's leg. With an indignant hoot, she hopped off to sit by Pigwidgeon, who was desperately
attempting not to burst from excitement at having another owl in the house.

Meanwhile, Ginny had opened the letter and was hungrily scanning its contents. After a few
seconds, she looked up at her mother, beaming. “He wants to know if he can come to stay for the
rest of the holiday,” she said.

“Well, of course he can!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, obviously happy to be having the boy under her
wing again. “Does he say anything else?” Ginny turned her attention back to the letter. Within a
few moments, her expression turned sour.

“Hermione wants to come, too,” she said. She scowled at Hedwig as if it was her fault for this
bad news.

“She is welcome, too, of course,” Mrs. Weasley said congenially, but she noticed the look on her
daughter's face, and made a note to observe the goings-on once Harry and Hermione arrived.
“I'll just send them an owl back right away.” She hastily wrote an answer on the back of
Harry's letter, tied it to Hedwig's leg and sent her off.

“It should be good to have them in the house again,” Mr. Weasley said, but Ginny wasn't sure
she shared the sentiment.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Harry showed Mrs. Weasley's answer to Hermione. “Well, that's that,” he said after a
moment's silence.

“It is,” Hermione replied. She squeezed his hand. “We can do this.”

Harry sighed and placed his head on her shoulder. “But that doesn't make it any easier.”

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

***sigh* So short. I'm practically killing you all with these mini-chapters, I know. BUT
THEY'RE NECESSARY! Please don't kill me?**

***loves you all***

**Violet Kefira**

-->



10. Mrs. Weasley learns a few things
------------------------------------



***glances around sneakily* [cue Pink Panther music] Your mission, should you choose to accept
it, dear reader, is to….**

**DUN-DUN-DUH**

**Read the next chapter of A Touching Romance!**

**Omigah, I posted! *shoots self* What's wrong with me? It's been** **one
day****. I AM NOT BEING SUSPENSEFUL! Argh. But you all just love this, don't you?
*glowers***

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 10 ~ Mrs. Weasley learns a few things**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Professor McGonagall surveyed Harry and Hermione with a critical eye. “You're sure Mrs.
Weasley is agreeable to the arrangements?” she asked.

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said in an exasperated tone. “She said that she would be very happy to
have us.”

McGonagall looked them over once more. “Well, alright,” she relented. “Go on then. The Hogwarts
Express will be leaving in a few minutes and you have to ride the carriages down.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione said. She was apprehensive at the idea of revealing her and
Harry's relationship to Ginny, not to mention the rest of the Weasley family. They all meant so
much to her, and she wasn't sure how they would all take it.

“Get a move on,” said McGonagall, shooing them out the door. “Happy Christmas.” She closed the
door behind them with an uncharacteristically fond smile, shaking her head at her own folly.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Harry and Hermione loaded their trunks onto the train and took seats across from each other in
the first compartment

“Do you think Ginny is ready for this?” she asked after a few minutes, fiddling with the hem of
her robe.

Harry didn't answer straight away. When he did, it wasn't the comforting answer Hermione
had been hoping for. “No,” he said. “She isn't. But that doesn't mean it isn't
happening. The two of us are together now,” (Hermione smiled happily) “And she'll have to learn
to deal with it. I know that's a little harsh, but it's the truth.”

Hermione sighed and nodded. “We'll have to tell Mister Weasley about the potion.”

“That's not going to be easy, is it?” said Harry, gazing out the window looking forlorn.

“No, but it has to be done,” she replied. She stood up on the seat and rummaged around in her
trunk for a few moments. She plopped down with a thick book in one hand and a quill and parchment
in the other. “First things first,” she said. “We have to find out how to get rid of the effects of
the potion.”

“Is there an antidote in there?” asked Harry, referring to her book.

“No,” she said, flipping through the book's yellowing pages. “But it might give us some
clues as to where the antidote might be.”

“Good luck, then,” he said. Instead of staring back out of the window, he chose to gaze at
Hermione.

She was chewing on the tip of her quill as she read through the pages of potions and antidotes.
Her hair was a ruffled mess, as it always was, and there were several ink smudges on her hands and
even one on her cheek. She wore no make up, and bags under her eyes signified that she hadn't
had a good night's sleep in quite a while (Harry figured this was because of her concern for
him). Her dark blue skirt and white blouse were wrinkled, and more ink stains sprinkled the hem of
the blouse. Her robe was old and a bit too short for her. Ginny would have told her she looked
terrible.

“You're beautiful,” he said.

She looked up from her book in surprise. “What?” she asked.

“You're beautiful,” he said again.

She blushed. “Don't be silly,” she said. “Of course I'm not.”

“You are,” Harry said stubbornly. He swiftly moved to sit by her side. “You are the most
beautiful girl I think I've ever seen.”

“Then you can't have seen very many girls, Harry,” she replied, a hint of a smile playing
over her lips.

“Oh, I've seen plenty,” he told her. “But none of them look quite like you. Because you,”
(He kissed her forehead) “Are absolutely,” (He kissed her cheeks) “The most wonderful,” (He kissed
her nose) “Girl *ever*.” He softly kissed her on the lips.

“Oh, Harry,” she moaned, burying her face in his shoulder, tears leaking out of her closed eyes.
“I love you. God, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Hermione,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “Even
if you are ridiculously stubborn.” She giggled tearfully and hiccupped. Harry thought it was
adorable.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

“RONALD WEASLEY!” Molly Weasley screeched up the stairs. There was a surprised yelp, then her
youngest son came into view, half dressed and bleary-eyed. “Wake up,” she said sweetly. He groaned
and walked back into his room.

“Don't be worried about him,” Ginny said, coming to stand beside her from the kitchen.
“He'll be ready. He's very happy that Harry and Hermione have decided to stay for the
holiday after all. A bit more happy about Hermione staying, if you know what I mean.” She winked
cheekily up at her mother, then swept passed her up the stairs.

Molly frowned after her. Her son and Hermione had broken up ages ago, and she didn't feel as
if there was any inkling of a chance they might get back together. Ron certainly didn't seem
interested in the girl any more. She thought that perhaps Ginny just wanted that to be the case, so
as to make it one big, happy, Weasley family. Her relationship with Harry was at least going in the
right direction.

Smiling again, Molly walked into the kitchen and began to make breakfast for her family.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

“Harry, wake up.”

“Whatcha I duwanna.”

“Oh, Harry, honestly. Wake up.”

“Fivmominits.”

“*Really*.” Hermione shoved Harry hard, making him fall off the bench.

“Hey! That hurt!” He rubbed his head where it had banged into the floor.

“Don't be such a baby, Harry,” Hermione said, laughing at him. “It was just a little
shove.”

“Well, *pardon moi*,” he said loftily.

She laughed again. “You're ridiculous,” she told him.

He started laughing, too. “I know. But that's what makes life interesting. What'd you
wake me up for anyway?”

“Oh, right,” Hermione stood up and began to gather her things. “The train stopped. We need to be
out on the platform for the Weasleys to get us.”

“Are they *all* coming?” Harry asked, retying his shoelaces.

“No, I don't think so. Just Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny.” Hermione looked rather nervous
about that fact.

“Hey,” said Harry, standing up and hugging her. “We'll be fine.”

Hermione nodded morosely. Together, they gathered up their luggage and other things. Harry
carried Hedwig's cage precariously under one arm, and Crookshanks was penned up in a basket
Hermione had slung over her shoulder. They left the compartment and made their way to the door.

Just as Hermione was about to open it and step out onto the platform, Harry pulled her back. “I
won't be able to do this for quite a while, you see,” he told her, smirking. “Thought I needed
to get one last one in before I skive off completely.” He caught her up in a warm embrace and
kissed her fiercely. Her knees bent under her, and she was grateful for his arms holding her
up.

“Oh, that's just great,” she said when he pulled away. “Now you've gone and made me all
lightheaded. I won't be able to think properly for hours.”

Harry chuckled. “That was the point, love.”

Hermione wagged her finger at him and grabbed all her stuff again. She kicked open the door and
threw her less fragile bags out onto the platform. Stepping down, she looked around her. It was an
unfamiliar sight. It was the same old platform, but there wasn't a throng of people crowding up
the place. It looked strangely sad without all the shouting students and shrieking pets.

“Harry!” screeched an unpleasantly familiar voice. “You're finally here!” Ginny ran up to
the train, beaming, just as Ron and Mrs. Weasley materialized through the barrier behind her.

“Hello, Ginny,” said Hermione testily.

Ginny looked at her as if she was something disgusting she might pick off her shoe. “Hermione.”
She nodded her head curtly. She craned her neck to see past Hermione. “Where's Harry?”

“In the train, getting the rest of our things,” Hermione said. She grabbed Ginny's arm and
attempted to pull her off to the side. “Let's go say hello to Ron and your mum.”

Ginny wrenched her arm out of Hermione's grasp. “I want to see Harry,” she hissed, glaring.
“He's my *boyfriend*, after all. You'd do well to remember that, Granger.”

Hermione kept quiet. Inwardly, she seethed. *Your boyfriend, my foot,* she thought. She
felt the strong urge to give Ginny a good kick in the shin, but resisted it. It certainly
wouldn't make matters any better.

Harry soon appeared in the doorway of the train. He and Hermione exchanged a quick glance of
exasperation as Ginny squealed, “*Harry*!”

“Control yourself, woman,” muttered Hermione under her breath. Ginny looked like she was just
about to throw herself at Harry, so Hermione quickly moved between the two. “I'll help you with
those bags, Harry,” she said. She took Crookshank's basket, then shoved her trunk into
Ginny's arms. “You won't mind carrying this, will you, Gin?” she asked sweetly.

Ginny glared forcefully at her and swept past with a murderous gleam in her eye. “Thanks,”
whispered Harry in Hermione's ear as he walked past her. His breath sent a shiver down her
spine. Wondering how on earth she was going to last without his touch until they worked up the
courage to tell Ginny the truth, she followed all the others out through the barrier.

“How're we getting back to the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley?” asked Harry when they exited Kings
Cross Station.

“The people at the Ministry felt like they owe our family a bit of something,” Mrs. Weasley
said. “What with Bill being hurt and all the other things that've been going on lately. So they
bought us a new car. It doesn't fly, but it runs very well and is quite roomy inside.”

Hermione felt her stomach drop. A car ride all the way back to the Burrow? How was she to keep
Ginny off Harry in such a small space? The little group made its way out into the car park, where
they stopped at a lovely red Mercedes.

“Wow, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said reverently as he looked the car over, “This is really nice.”

“Isn't it?” said Mrs. Weasley, beaming. “It's so much easier than hiring those Muggle
cab drivers.”

They all piled their things in the trunk, then climbed into the back seat. Hermione made sure
that she settled herself between Harry and Ginny. Ginny seemed none too happy about the overall
situation. The silence in the car was very awkward until Ron, tentatively, asked, “Everything at
Hogwarts alright?”

Hermione breathed an inner sigh of relief. “Yes, it's great,” she said. “Professor
McGonagall said to tell you hello, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Headmistress McGonagall now, isn't it?” said Mrs. Weasley in a morose tone. Both her hands
were gripping the wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white, and her sharp brown eyes darted
around the street in front of them as if daring something to try and get in her way.

“Oh, yes, it is,” Hermione said. She gazed out the window on Harry's side. “I often
forget.”

“We all try not to remember, Hermione,” Mrs. Weasley said. “It's a difficult thing to lose
someone, and then have them replaced so quickly.”

Silence followed her words. As subtly as he could manage, Harry inched his hand towards
Hermione's. He wrapped his fingers around hers and gave her hand a little squeeze. She looked
up at him with a soft smile and squeezed back.

Ginny and Ron didn't notice this, as they were too busy with their own thoughts. But Mrs.
Weasley, her eyes flickering to the rearview mirror, saw their hands and the smile. And she thought
that maybe, just maybe, her daughter's relationship with Harry wasn't going quite as well
as Ginny thought.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

**Ah. The intelligence of Mrs. Weasley astounds me at times. And then there's the cuteness
of Harry. Do you think it's possible to clone Harry? I think I'll try that. Then I'd
have, like, Super Boyfriend!!! Rescuing damsels in distress with his romantic sweet talk and
perfect date ideas!**

**Violet Kefira**

-->



11. Something has happened
--------------------------



**Hola, mi amores. I've been super busy lately. Sorry I haven't posted. But here's
this wonderificous little chapter. I'm rather proud of it. It's Ginny's POV again, and
we know she's just a bucket of sunshine.**

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 11 ~ Something has happened**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Ginny Weasley was mad. No, she was *furious*. That no good, bushy-haired, bucktooth,
know-it-all *bimbo* (whose name Ginny refused to use) had taken it upon her bloody self to
make sure that Harry hadn't yet done anything at all of the romantic sort towards her,
Ginny.

She'd wanted to kiss him when he came off the train, but *no*. There was baggage to be
held. She had wanted to sit next to him in the car, but *no*. That idiot girl had dived in
after her so Harry couldn't possibly sit close to her.

Ginny would have thought that, what with having weird things happen every time she touched
Harry, Miss Thang would have given up a bit on the whole anti-Harry-and-Ginny thing. Honestly, she
wasn't stupid, Ginny would give her that. She must've realized somewhat that she
couldn't touch Harry because of how he felt about her.

The little red car slowed to a stop in front of the Burrow, and Ginny felt just a bit calmer.
There wouldn't be nearly as much chance for *that girl* to sabotage Ginny and Harry's
blooming relationship. They'd be snogging in a corner before dinner, she was sure of it.

“Boys, you get the trunks out of the car while the girls and I get started on lunch,” instructed
Mrs. Weasley as she clambered out of the driver's seat. Harry and Ron promptly moved towards
the car's trunk as Hermione attempted to soothe a flustered Crookshanks. Ginny saw her
chance.

“I'm so glad you're here, Harry,” she said sweetly, walking up behind him as he reached
into the car for his bag.

“Yes, it's nice to be somewhere without Professor Snape looming over your shoulder at every
meal,” he replied, grimacing as he accidentally put the trunk down on his foot.

“Well, I'm sure it'll be much more interesting here than at Hogwarts,” Ginny cooed,
batting her eyelashes at him. “You can't have had much fun with just *her* hanging around,
could you?” She glared at Hermione's bushy head through the back window.

She didn't notice Harry's look of intense agitation. “Oh, it wasn't bad,” he said
casually. “Hermione is actually a lot of fun when there's no schoolwork to be done. Something
she's picked up from hanging around Ron and me for all these years.” He smiled fondly at
Hermione as she got out of the car.

Ginny looked back and forth between the two of them, smiling happily at each other. Something
had happened over the week they were together, she knew it. Well, she simply wouldn't stand for
it, that's all. Harry was hers, and she wasn't about to go and let Hermione ruin it all for
them.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Lunch was a casual affair. All the Weasleys were home for the holidays - even Fleur and Bill had
taken time off from their honeymoon to come and visit. Harry and Hermione soaked in the atmosphere
of family, after it having been just the two of them at Hogwarts. Keeping everyone away from Harry
was a bit of a trial, but otherwise, it was quite fun.

“More peas, dear?” asked Mrs. Weasley as she offered Harry the dish of mushy vegetables.

“Yes, please,” he said, scooping two more spoonfuls of peas onto his plate.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. “Hungry?” she said, surveying his plate, already heaped high
with second helpings of everything within his reach.

“There is no such thing as too much Weasley food,” was his reply, and she laughed. He grinned at
her, then turned back to his plate. She shook her head, still chuckling softly, then turned to
engage Charlie in conversation.

Mrs. Weasley watched this encounter with interest. Something was happening between those two.
*Or*, she thought suddenly, *something already has happened*.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Harry fell happily onto his bed in Ron's room that night. “I'm so glad to be back here,”
he told Ron, who was dressing for bed.

“I'm glad you're both back, too, mate,” said Ron, grinning at Harry. He pulled a red
t-shirt over his head. “Things'll be more fun around here with you and Hermione here.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Harry. “Your family couldn't possibly be much fun otherwise.” He
laughed as Ron chucked a pillow at him before climbing into his bed.

“Don't be *ridiculous*, Harry,” said Ron loftily, propping himself on his elbows. “We
Weasleys have more fun in our pinky fingers than you have in your entire body.”

“*Touché*,” said Harry. He rolled over on his bed to face the ceiling.

“Harry?” called Ron a few minutes later.

“Hmm?” was Harry's sleepy reply.

Harry heard Ron sigh. “Are you…do you think…well -”

“Spit it out, Ron,” said Harry, turning over to look at him.

“Well…what - what are your intentions towards Ginny?”

“*Ron*!” Harry sat up straight and banged his head against the bed post. With a groan, he
fell back on the headboard. “What on earth do you mean?” he asked when the stars behind his eyes
went away.

Ron looked very uncomfortable. “I was just wondering exactly how far you intend to go with her,”
he said, miserable.

“Ron, take my word for it,” Harry said. “Nothing is going to happen while I'm here.”

“Define nothing.” Ron now peered suspiciously up at Harry.

Harry huffed exasperatedly. “Okay…um, how about we say that…nothing you wouldn't do in front
of your mum is going to happen between me and Ginny. How's that?”

Ron fell back against his pillows. “That sounds alright,” he said slowly. “You won't be
snogging or anything in the broom cupboard, then, will you?”

“No, Ron, Ginny and I won't be snogging in any broom cupboards,” Harry assured him. “I
promise.” *I can't promise that Hermione and I won't be snogging in the broom
cupboards*, he thought with a small smirk he was careful to hide from Ron.

“Are you and Ginny not together, then?” Ron asked next, sounding incredulous.

Harry thought very carefully before answering. “Things,” he began slowly, “changed over the
holiday, Ron. Hermione and I discovered some things that - that make the dynamic of my and
Ginny's relationship a different thing entirely. I don't think that Ginny and I are going
to be together much longer, to tell you the truth.”

Ron was silent for a long time after that. When he did finally speak up, he didn't sound
very happy. “I don't think that things will turn out the way we thought they would, will they?”
he asked.

Harry turned so he could look Ron in the eye. “No,” he said. “Everything is different now. I
used to think that, once Voldemort was gone, things would go back to normal. But they haven't.
Every one of us - you, me, and Hermione especially - has changed.”

“I know,” said Ron in a somber voice. “Back in school before all of this happened, everything
was simple. Sure, we faced Voldemort every now and then, but that never seemed real when we were
sitting around the fire in the common room. I always -” He broke off suddenly, gazing out the
window. He took a deep breath, then continued slowly. “I always thought that, in the end, it was
going to be you and Ginny, and me and Hermione. It seemed natural, you know?” He looked back at
Harry then, as if desperate to know he hadn't been alone in his thoughts.

Harry nodded in agreement. “It was the logical thing to do,” he said. “But that doesn't fit
any more.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Hermione and I tried.” He laughed and shook his head at the memory.
“Merlin, I was rubbish at being her boyfriend.”

Harry laughed with him. “You really were, Ron,” he said. “It seemed like a relief when you two
broke up, really. You didn't fight nearly as much after that.”

“It's good to know we're both still friends,” Ron admitted. “I had half expected things
to be awful between us afterwards.”

Harry nodded, then sighed. “I don't think things will ever be good between Ginny and I after
- well, after this.”

Ron burrowed under his covers, clearly ready for sleep. “Don't beat yourself up about it too
much, mate,” he said, closing his eyes. “We've still got Hermione, after all.”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “I've still got Hermione. G'night, Ron.”

“Night, Harry,” Ron replied, as Harry drifted off to sleep. But Ron stayed awake for a long time
afterwards, thinking. Eventually, somewhere around two in the morning, he jerked awake with the
realization that the only thing that he ever would think capable of taking away Harry's
feelings for Ginny - was Hermione.

*Something*, he thought before falling back asleep, *has happened.*

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

**Points to Ron for finally figuring it out. Poor Ginny, still in the dark. No, wait, not poor
Ginny - evil Ginny!!! DIE!**

***sigh***

**Wistful thoughts, dear, wistful thoughts.**

**~ Violet Kefira**

-->



12. Fluff and Fleur
-------------------



**Hey, darlings. Look at me and my updating self - only five days after the last one! I'm
rather proud. *sniffs* My baby's growing up!**

***cough***

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 12 ~ Fluff and Fleur**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Harry awoke the next morning with a sense of great foreboding in his stomach. It took him a
little while to remember where he was, and then one of Ron's great, shuddering snores filled
his ears, and he came back to reality.

He groaned. He and Hermione had decided that the day after their arrival was as good a time as
any for Harry to break off his relationship with Ginny. *This is going to be hell*, he thought
as he clambered up out of bed.

He dressed quickly and quietly so as to not wake Ron up, then crept through the door and down
the hall to the room Hermione shared with Ginny.

He pressed his ear to the door, then, after hearing no sound from within, called softly,
“Hermione? Are you in there?”

“What do you think you're doing?” hissed Hermione's voice from behind him. He turned
around swiftly to find an extremely angry Hermione standing in the drawing room door.

“Morning, Hermione,” he said weakly.

Hermione glared at him. “Idiot,” she hissed. “You're going to wake up the whole bloody
house, you are.” Harry winced. Hermione was not much of a morning person, he'd come to find out
in all his years with her at school.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said consolingly. “I just wanted to see you.” He smiled what he hoped
was a pitiful sort of smile.

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You're being ridiculous,” she said, but she was smiling.
“Come on in here, then, Harry.” She beckoned him toward the drawing room. “We can talk in here
without any interruptions.”

Harry entered the drawing room and shut the door quietly behind him, taking a look around. It
was a small room with several comfortable looking chairs grouped around a cheery fire; Mrs. Weasley
had obviously been up for quite a while, and had all the fireplaces in the house roaring to fend
off the cold.

Harry took one of the armchairs closest to the fire, and Hermione plopped down in the one next
to him. “You look a right mess,” she told him, gazing fondly at his unkempt hair and wrinkled
pajamas.

“Yes, well, you don't look so hot yourself,” Harry replied loftily.

Hermione laughed. “At least I don't look as if something has attacked my head and made a
nest of it,” she said. When he raised an eyebrow, she waggled her finger at him. “There will be no
jokes about my hair,” she said sternly. “You know just as bloody well as I do that they have a mind
of their own, the little blighters.” She stared down at the frizzy curls as if they might be
mocking her silently.

“Your hair is perfect,” Harry said kindly. “I really do think it is.”

Hermione smiled and shook her head. “You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“*Obviously*,” he said cheekily. Hermione laughed and threw a pillow at him. Without
warning, he leapt up from his chair and pounced upon her, whacking her with a pillow from his
chair. Hermione shrieked, half laughing, and Harry clamped his hands over her mouth.

“Be quiet, Hermione,” he whispered. Then he smirked. “You're going to wake up the whole
bloody house, you are.”

Hermione's eyes narrowed over his hands, and she said something Harry thought he would have
found quite inappropriate and offensive had his hand not been muffling the sound. “I'm rubbing
off on you,” he told her. She rolled her eyes.

After making her promise that she wouldn't shriek again, Harry lifted his hands and sat back
in the chair, wiggling around until he could comfortably enfold Hermione in his arms. She let her
head fall into the crook of his neck and snuggled into his shoulder, saying, “This is nice.”

Harry sighed contentedly and buried his nose in her hair. “Yes, it is,” he said. “But we
won't be able to do this much longer. The rest of the house will be waking up soon.”

“I know,” said Hermione sadly. “I wish we could just let this out in the open. All this sneaking
around and trying to make sure nobody touches you is so exhausting. You should have heard Ginny
last night, going on and on about all the plans she has for you. A terrible lot of them involved
the second floor broom cupboard, just so you're forewarned.”

“You can trust that there will be no snogging of Ginny in the second floor broom cupboard,”
Harry assured her. “And as soon as the Weasleys know what Ginny did, we should be able to come out
about being together. They really can't object if the evidence is staring them in the face, can
they?”

“I guess not.” Hermione found Harry's hand and gave it a squeeze. “We can do this together,
I know we can.”

Harry smiled down at her, but shook his head. “I think that I should be alone when I talk to
Ginny, actually.” He pressed a finger to her lips before she could protest. “Do you really think
it's going to make matters better if you're standing right there when I break up with
Ginny? She's probably going to start throwing things, Hermione. That's the way she is.”

Hermione let out a defeated sigh. “I suppose you're right,” she said halfheartedly. “I just
wish I could see the look on her face.”

Harry laughed. “Now you're just being mean,” he said. “I'm not entirely sure I like
having a vicious girlfriend.”

“Oh, *girlfriend* now, is it?” Hermione queried with a smirk on her face. “And here I was
thinking we were just friends with benefits.”

“Pff, I'm game if you are,” he retorted. Hermione chuckled and poked him in the chest.

“Now you really *are* being ridiculous,” she said.

Harry scoffed. “I, you will find, am never *ridiculous*. It's more of an absurd
outlandishness, really.” Hermione giggled girlishly, and Harry felt a wonderful happiness settle
over him at the thought that he could make her laugh like that.

“'Love you, Harry,” Hermione said after a moment's silence.

Harry resettled her in his arms and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Glad to know it,” he said
cheerily. She peered up at him and coughed significantly. “Oh, did you want me to say it back?” he
asked, feigning surprise. “Well, then, I suppose I love you, too.”

Hermione beamed and buried her face in his neck again. Harry smiled lovingly down on her and
rested his chin upon the top of her head, closing his eyes in contentment.

“Good morning, `Arry, `Ermione,” said a quiet voice. Harry's eyes flew open and Hermione
wrenched herself from his embrace.

“It's not what it seems,” they both stammered immediately. The both stood, staring, at Fleur
Delacour-Weasley, her long, silvery hair glinting in the early morning sun.

“I believe eet ees very much what eet seems,” she said, surveying them both with a critical
eye.

Harry's heart beat rapidly in his chest. “Look, Fleur,” he began. “Hermione and I, we're
just -”

“You were just trying to get warmer in zis freezing house,” she said softly. Hermione looked
baffled. “I completely understand. Eet ees ridiculously cold in here.” She wrapped her arms around
herself and shivered theatrically.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a confused glance. “Fleur, I don't know what you think,”
Hermione said slowly. “But Harry and I -”

“Are merely friends,” Fleur finished firmly. She gave them both significant glances. “What ze
two of you do ees completely none of my business. Your relationship ees private, and I realize eet
ees probably also secret.”

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. Fleur wasn't angry. “We're planning on telling everyone,”
he assured her. “Today in fact - that's when we're telling Ginny and, uh, Ron?” he looked
to Hermione to confirmation. She nodded. “Yeah, we're telling Ron today, too.”

Fleur nodded. “That ees very good,” she said, smiling. She turned to leave. Just as she was
about to exit, she turned back slightly. “I haf become very fond of my new sister-in-law, `Arry.
Please do not hurt her, eef you can `elp it?”

“I won't,” Harry said, slipping an arm around Hermione's shoulders. Fleur nodded, then
left, closing the door behind her.

Harry and Hermione immediately fell back into the chair, leaning against each other for support.
“That was something,” Hermione breathed.

“I can't believe she just *accepted* it like that,” Harry said, eyes wide. “Didn't
even blink.”

“Well, let's just hope the rest of the Weasleys are that understanding,” said Hermione,
looking up at Harry with a twinkle in her eye.

Harry smirked. “What's the betting for that?” he asked, mock-serious. “I'm thinking
three million to one.”

Hermione laughed and shook her head at him. “Sounds about right to me.”

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

**Entirely too much OOC fluff for my taste. Blech. Sorries.**

***cries* Only one more chapter! That's really very sad. And kind of cool. I get to move on
to something else after this. And there will be something else, I assure you. This is not the last
from Violet Kefira, you may presume.**

**Anyways, review, my loves!**

**~ Vi****olet** **Ke****fira**

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13. An end to it all
--------------------



***sobs uncontrollably* This is the last installment of A Touching Romance, everyone. It seems
really strange to give this to you, knowing I can't post anything any more. I guess I just need
to throw myself into something else. You haven't seen the last of me, obviously. I'm coming
back with a great and terrible vengeance!**

**What exactly am I vengeance-ing?**

**A Touching Romance**

**Chapter 13 ~ An end to it all**

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

Harry stood, curled fist extended, in front of Ginny's bedroom door. Breakfast had long
since been eaten, and Ginny had retired to finish up some homework. Harry had spent a few hours
playing chess against Ron and Hermione, who always managed to slaughter him.

Now he was silently steeling himself for the painful encounter he was just about to have.
Hermione had left him a few moments before after giving an extremely encouraging pep-talk, but he
still wasn't sure he was quite ready to talk to Ginny.

*Just do it*, he told himself. With a deep breath, he knocked softly on the door.

“Just a moment!” called Ginny's voice from inside. Harry waited impatiently, his insides
squirming unpleasantly.

Ginny opened the door and peered out. Her face lit up when she saw Harry standing there. “Oh,
it's you!” she said, smiling. “I was hoping you'd come up so we could have some alone
time.”

“Yeah, great,” said Harry absently. “Listen, can we talk?”

Ginny looked surprised. “Okay,” she said. “Come in.” She moved out of the way, and Harry stepped
over the threshold and took a seat on her bed. She sat beside him, uncomfortably close.

“What's wrong, Harry?” she asked, reaching out for his hand.

Quickly, Harry snatched his hand back. *Don't be stupid*, he instructed himself
sternly. “I have some things I really need to discuss with you,” he told her, trying to look her in
the eye, as Hermione had advised.

Ginny nodded. “Yeah, I've got a few things to say, too,” she replied.

Inwardly, Harry felt a little relieved. Ginny must have noticed that something was going on.
“You first, then,” he said.

“I'm really glad you're here, Harry,” she said, smiling fondly. “I know you can't
have enjoyed being at Hogwarts all alone all that time.”

“I *wasn't* alone,” Harry said forcefully. “Hermione was with me.”

Ginny smiled indulgently. “Well, alright,” she said, still looking at him with an infuriatingly
knowing look. “But we both know that you couldn't have had a good time with *her*.”

“Hermione is my best friend, Ginny!” said Harry furiously. “The only person I've been
friends with longer is Ron.”

Ginny looked affronted. “Well, you don't have to get to tetchy!” she cried. “I just thought
that maybe you would have liked to spend Christmas break with your girlfriend!”

Harry scooted away from her quickly. “Right, that's what we have to talk about,” he said
then. He stood up and began pacing the length of the room, unable to bear Ginny's closeness any
longer.

“What do you mean, Harry?” Ginny asked worriedly. “Is something wrong between us?”

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You know I love you very much, Ginny,” he said,
at which she smiled happily. “But something happened recently that made me rethink my
priorities.”

Ginny stood up. “Was it something Hermione did?” she asked angrily. “Because anything she said
can be -”

“This is not about Hermione,” said Harry. “Or, well, it is, but not right now. Ginny, we found
out about the potion that you put in my drink.”

Ginny blushed scarlet immediately. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she said
stubbornly. She sat back down on the bed and crossed her arms over her chest, staring resolutely
out the window.

“Yes, you do,” said Harry. “You know exactly what I'm talking about. Why'd you do that,
Ginny? Didn't you trust me?”

Ginny sighed, defeated. “I trusted you, Harry, really I did,” she said. “I just didn't trust
Hermione. I knew that if I was gone all that time, with just you and her together, she'd jump
at the opportunity to - to hit on you or something.”

Harry sighed. “Hermione would never have done that. She's not like that. She respected the
relationship that you and I had before you left, even though she wasn't happy with it.”

Ginny looked up quickly. “She told you that she fancied you?” she asked, watching Harry
closely.

It was Harry's turn to blush. “Erm, no,” he said. “That was a sort of accident, actually. I
can touch her, Ginny. I don't know how it happened, as even *I* didn't know that I had
feelings for her until the day we discovered what the potion was. I guess I'd just been
suppressing what I felt to make things easier.”

Ginny looked murderous. “This can't be right,” she said. She stood up and strode over to him
quickly. “It's me you want, Harry.” Without another word, she pulled him into a forceful kiss.
There was a loud sound like an explosion and Ginny was thrown back against the wall.

Harry glared down at her furiously. “What did you go and do that for?” he said angrily. “That
was a really stupid thing to do. I mean, you *know* what the potion does to people who touch
me, Ginny.”

But Ginny would not be deterred. “You're messing it up,” she said. “You're casting a
spell or something. You belong with *me*, Harry, everyone knows that.”

“Well, everyone's wrong,” Harry said, not unkindly. “We were good together last year. But
I've changed a whole lot since then, Ginny, you know that. I'm not the same boy I was then.
The war against Voldemort really took a toll on me, on all of us.”

“But I was here for you when you got back,” said Ginny, looking a little desperate. “I stayed
with you through everything. I never once doubted you or left your side.”

“That's not true,” said Harry. “You couldn't follow me into Voldemort's hiding
place. You were too worried about saving yourself to save the others.”

But Ginny shook her head. “No, no, I had to stay, I *had* to. There was too much at
stake.”

“A risk that saves lives is a risk worth taking, Ginny,” Harry said calmly. “You don't
understand that. But I really wouldn't expect you to. You haven't seen any of the things
that Ron or Hermione or I have.”

“Oh, right, it's all about Hermione, isn't it?” Ginny said hysterically, picking herself
up off the floor. “Precious, *perfect* Hermione. You listen to her and do everything she says
because `she's seen what I've seen.'”

“She's my best friend, Ginny, why don't you get that?” Harry said. “I am not going to
throw away seven unbelievable years of the strongest friendship I've ever known just to make
you comfortable. You *know* that I love you; I've told you that I do. But Hermione -
Hermione has a place in my life that will always take precedence over everything else.”

“Don't stand there and tell me you love me,” said Ginny furiously. “It's obvious to me
that you have feelings for Hermione, and you can't hide them from me.”

“I'm not hiding them,” said Harry. “I'm telling you that they're there. Hermione and
I are together now, and you're just going to have to accept it.”

Ginny stared up at Harry for a few moments, then grabbed her wand off the bedside table. “I
refuse to accept it,” she said, and poked Harry hard in the shoulder with her wand. “I'll just
have to do something about it.” With that, she sprinted to the door, wrenched it open, and raced
down the hallway, shouting Hermione's name.

“Ginny, no!” Harry cried, dashing after her. “Listen to me! Don't you dare hurt her, Ginny.
Ginny!” She showed no signs of even hearing him, continuing to race through the house looking for
Hermione.

“Granger!” Ginny shouted as she came to a screeching halt in the living room. Hermione, who was
playing chess with Ron, looked up, frightened. “How dare you take him?” she yelled, her eyes
flashing dangerously. “What spell did you cast on him?”

“I didn't do anything to him, Ginny,” Hermione said, her fingers wriggling as she waited for
a moment in which to grab at her wand.

“Liar,” Ginny spat. “Harry would never choose you over me unless he was under the influence of a
spell.”

“You're wrong,” said Hermione. “Harry's chosen me. You have to accept it.”

Ginny laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, that's what he said. But there is no accepting to be done on
my part, oh no. Harry is *mine*, not yours.”

“That is for Harry to decide.” Hermione spoke very calmly and rationally, hoping to calm Ginny
down. “You can't make him love you, Ginny.”

“But you've found a way to do just that, haven't you?” Ginny said. “You've gone and
done something to him to -”

“I've done *nothing*,” said Hermione, speaking over Ginny sternly. “I would never
resort to trickery to have Harry return my feelings for him, and I would never lose my trust in him
like you did.”

“You don't understand the bond -”

“It's *you* who doesn't understand!” cried Hermione, flying to her feet. “Harry and
I have something that you never had with him. We are attached at the heart, at the *soul*. You
cannot break us apart, no matter how hard you've tried or will try.”

“He doesn't want you,” whispered Ginny, looking stricken.

“No, Ginny,” Hermione said quietly, just barely refraining from shouting again. “He *does*
want me. Accept it, please, accept it.”

Ginny, it seemed, had finally come to terms with the knowledge that Harry didn't love her,
for she collapsed then on the floor, sobs racking her small shoulders. Ron, who had remained silent
up until then, shook himself out of his reverie. “What's going on?” he asked sharply, staring
around at Hermione, and at Harry, who had just entered the room.

Hermione sighed. “We keep meaning to tell you,” she said. Moving to stand beside Harry, she
continued. “Harry and I are together now.”

Ron looked back and forth between them with a stony face. “Why?” he asked finally.

Harry glanced down at Hermione. “I realized that I couldn't live with myself while I was
with Ginny,” he said. “Something wasn't right. And then this potion came up -”

“What potion?” interrupted Ron. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I think we better just tell everybody at once,” said Hermione.

“I'll go get the rest of the Weasleys,” Harry said. He squeezed Hermione's shoulder
comfortingly, then strode out of the room. Hermione took a seat on a couch and braced herself for
what she knew would be one of the hardest moments of her life.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOO**

The talk with all the Weasleys had been painfully uncomfortable. Explaining about the potion,
finding out what it did, and, finally, that the two of them were a couple had been extremely
difficult for the both of them, especially as Ginny's sobs punctuated their words.

Now they sat together in the small sitting room Fleur had found them in that morning. Hermione
was curled into Harry's arms, just on the brink of sleep.

“It's done,” Harry whispered suddenly.

“Hmm?” Hermione sleepily nuzzled Harry's neck with her nose.

“It's done,” Harry said again. “We told them everything.”

“And nobody died,” said Hermione with a happy little smile.

Harry stroked Hermione's hair absently. “Nobody died,” he repeated, sounding thoughtful. He
froze suddenly. “Hermione?” he asked.

“Uh-huh?” said Hermione, looking up at him.

“Was it worth it?” he asked her, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“Was what worth it?” Hermione moved back in his arms so she could look him in the eye.

“You said a few days ago that it didn't matter that Ginny was going to hate us,” he said.
“Or that talking to the Weasleys was going to be hard, so long as you were with me. You said it was
worth it. Was it?”

“Oh, Harry,” she breathed, smiling. “You're worth everything.”

He studied her face. “You mean that?”

She nodded firmly. “Every word,” she said. “I love you, Harry, and you love me. I'd do
anything to keep that.”

Harry smiled. “I love you,” he told her.

“Yes, I love you, too,” Hermione said. “We've already established this.”

Harry chuckled. “But, oddly, I never get tired of saying it. And even less tired of hearing
it.”

Hermione hummed happily. “Well, then. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Mmm….say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I love love love love you.”

“I know.”

“Say it again.”

“*Harry*.”

“*Please*?”

Hermione huffed exasperatedly. “I love you, now go away.”

They sat together in silence for a few minutes. Then Hermione snuggled deeper into Harry's
arms. “Hey, Harry?” she said.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO**

***happy sigh* Done. Over. Finished.**

**WoW.**

**I love all of you so very much for giving me your sweet** **reviews;** **they make me
so unbelievably happy. I can't even tell you. So many of you have left messages that have me
smiling and laughing.** **A special thank you to** **Diana Black, AmericanMione, madm_05,**
**starromance14, Izod, tiger111991, fledge, sannihun, gabbywolf, katediggory, Ravenclaw's
Heir, ladylaughalot, starsofrock21, canoncansodoff, bluetomotapasta,** **fire spikes (astig!),
greenlantern, MandaEvelyn, aracne,** **luv4books, time_turner_22, and gingercat for sticking
with me through this whole thing, always leaving a sweet review, and giving me great ideas and
critiques.**

**A big Muchos Gracias! to Amethyst for being a ridiculously cool author in general, and for
always making me laugh.**

**Gah, I just want to marry all of you! : D I can't wait to write again!**

**Violet Kefira**

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