Thank you so much! The reviews keep me going and Book 7's title sounds cool.
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For the rest of the week, Hermione suffered through Harry's behavior and completely ignored Ron. She was still furious for his act in the library when he came to her in the common room on Sunday afternoon while Harry was upstairs searching for his Transfiguration book.
"Hermione," he hesitantly started, "how are you going to get him to Madame Pomfrey? It is time for you to go back to her isn't it?"
She petted Crookshanks in thought, answered, "I'm not sure; I could just ask him," and sighed. "This has been one of the longest weeks in my life. He follows me everywhere, says everything I do is the best thing since the birth of Merlin, and compliments me on all of the little things. If he's not driving me batty, he's surprising me."
"Well, that's good, right? Don't girls like being surprised?"
"Most of the time. What's made you such an expert on girl's feelings anyway?"
He blushed and mumbled, "Read it in a book once."
Hermione was tempted to ask what book had made him so in tune with the other sex, but Harry bounced into the room. She decided to question Ron later.
"What are we doing today, Hermione," Harry asked with the same bounce in his voice that was in his step.
It's now or never, she thought grimly. "I guessed we could-Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Are you feeling well?"
"Yes, why?" he asked bewildered. The look on Ron's face matched the tone in Harry's question.
"You've been looking slightly ill since yesterday. I didn't want to bring it up, it could have been just a one-day thing, but you look a little pale." She squirmed in her seat.
Comprehension dawned on Ron's face. "Yeah, mate. You look dreadful, completely awful. Like somebody drug you through a whole herd of elephants," he said in a morose tone.
He's overdoing it a tad, she observed. She placed a hand on Harry's head. "You're burning up."
The bewildered look was still on his face. "I am? I feel alright, but if you say something looks wrong, I'll go to the hospital wing." He gave his Transfiguration book to Ron and said, "See you in a bit unless you want to come?"
"Nah, I've got that stupid Transfiguration report on how to turn a pillow into a cannonball to do. I'll catch up with you later." When Harry turned around to walk to the portrait hole, Ron gave Hermione a pointed look that clearly said, Tell him the truth. She looked to the ground feeling the beginning stages of extreme guilt.
Harry had one foot in when he turned around and asked Hermione with concern, "You are coming, aren't you?"
She nodded, bent down to let Crookshanks go, and wordlessly followed him. This was worse than before; she had only told him last time that she had something important to do, which she had. But now she was telling him that he was sick and he believed her totally. It made her a bit scared that he would do anything she said without thinking it through. Perhaps it had been a good thing that he had fallen in love her, no one would take advantage of him. So how could she explain the fact that she was taking advantage of him now? These thoughts assailed her as they stepped into the hospital wing.
"Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter, nice to see you both. What can I do for you?" Madame Pomfrey asked cheerfully.
"Hermione says I have a fever and that I look pale. Could you check me over to see what's wrong with me?"
Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow, but replied, "Have a seat on the bed next that window and I'll see to you in a moment," and walked away to get her kit. He did so, watching the pained expression on Hermione's face.
"Are you okay? You don't look so good." He groaned. "Maybe I got you sick too!"
"No, I'm fine," she whispered.
"Are you positive?"
She nodded. "Absolutely."
Madame Pomfrey entered the room and set to work on Harry, waving her wand over him several times and dictating to a self-writing quill her results. After a few minutes she stood back, hands on hips. "I can't find anything wrong with you. You seem just fine. Perhaps it was a quick side effect of the spell."
"What spell?" he questioned.
She looked to Hermione with surprise. "You haven't told him anything?"
Her tongue felt dead. All she could do was nod.
"Told me what? Hermione, what's going on?"
"Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey started sadly, "you are under the effects of a spell."
"What is it?"
"A Love Spell," Hermione said brokenly. "You think that you're in love with me."
Harry looked from her to the Healer. "Is it true, Hermione? Don't tell me it's true."
She fought back tears as she quietly said, "Yes."
Harry pushed himself off the bed and walked with slow steps to the door. It closed softly behind him.
Madame Pomfrey looked at the dejected girl leaning for support against the wall. She almost said something, but decided not to and walked back to her office. Before she closed her door, hushed sobs reached her. There was no point in berating the child more than she already was.
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No threats, just a hope that you'll review.
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