I was able to get over some writer's block that had me in a chokehold and I was able to pump out this chapter. Also, I'd like to thank fenriswolf for helping me with the concept behind breaking the spell from last chapter. Without him, a huge plot hole would have swallowed the story whole. See if you can spot the Harmony theory joke!
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Hermione sat in a corner of the couch closest to the common room fire enjoying her book on medieval witches. Inside of that book was a slightly shrunken copy of Witch Weekly, but thankfully no one was standing over her shoulder to read along. Harry and Ron would have had a field day.
Thinking of Harry, she glanced at the small clock over the mantle that had been installed while Harry, Ron, and she were looking for the Horcruxes. It showed each Gryffindors whereabouts and was quite similar to the Weasley clock with a few extra settings such as "Detention," "Quidditch Pitch," and "Hogsmeade." Harry's clock hand was pointing at the latter.
He's been there for two and a half hours, she wondered. Where is he? She looked expectantly at the portrait hole.
No Harry.
She chuckled. He had good timing, but he wasn't that good. Returning to her periodical (she refused to call it a magazine), her mind wandered. At the beginning of the week, the both of them had been tentative towards one another. But as always, the stilted conversations turned into three-hour long discussions on…well, anything. At times, the Love Spell caused him to say things she didn't expect such as "You're so cute when you're guilty," when he discovered that sometimes she still slept with a small, stuffed dog when she returned home in a game of Truth or Dare that had taken place yesterday. In exchange, he had to tell her about his love for the movie Emma.
"It's just that I understand where she's coming from!" he protested with a heavy blush.
A smile lit up Hermione's face at the memory. A copy of the movie would be the perfect gag gift for his birthday present next year. His Christmas present, on the other hand, was already wrapped in her trunk. She knew he would love it.
But what if he doesn't, she thought with apprehension. Her thoughts increased in her panic. What if he hates it and demands that I take it back? What if he stops caring about me?
"Nonsense," she muttered. "Where did that come from?"
"Where did what come from?" asked Harry as he leaned over the top of the couch.
She slammed her book shut in surprise and embarrassment. "When did you get here?" she stammered.
"A few minutes ago. I saw you staring at something on the rug and then I heard you mumble `What was that about?' What were you talking about?" He moved from his position from over her shoulder, walked to the other end of the couch, and sat down.
"Something I was thinking about is all." She slowly placed her book behind her back.
"Oh, okay." He settled back against the cushions and closed his eyes. "Hogsmeade was busy. I thought I was going to get crushed in Honeydukes. Almost got crushed by some huge cart of Ice Mice."
She laughed. "What did you get?"
"Gifts for Ron, Luna, Ginny, and Neville." He opened one eye and looked over at her. "So what's that behind your back?"
"What do you mean?"
"You can't hide too much from me, Hermione. What's that book behind your back?"
She blushed. He had seen it. "It's just a book on medieval witches and their lives. It's actually very interesting. Did you know that….
"The color blue is very `in' right now? Why, yes, I did." He grinned at the look on her face and turned his body to face her. "Can I borrow your copy? I need to read my horoscope for the month."
She began to blush. "It's an extremely informational periodical! There are some well-written editorials and articles!"
He crept along the couch. "I'd very much like to see it."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," she said, stalling for time to gather her magic to cast a nonverbal,
wand-less Transportus spell to send her spell back to her room.
He was inches away. He brought his nose to hers and whispered, "I think otherwise."
His eyes were captivating. She had never noticed how green or clear they were. If she looked hard enough, she could see the mischievous gleam in them. And then they were so bright…. The observations stopped when she felt her book slowly slipping out of her hand. She jerked the book out of his grasp and fought him off long enough to cast the spell. The book disappeared with a pop.
"Wow, that was impressive," he said approvingly.
She beamed. "Thank you." Remembering what he did, she accused, "You did that on purpose!"
The light left his eyes and he shook his head, saying, "I didn't mean to take it that far. I'm sorry."
She harrumphed which earned a small snort from Harry. It was then that Hermione realized that they were very close. Very close. She gulped.
Harry noticed as well and moved his arm from around her waist. He backed away, stuttering "S-sorry." She was surprised to see that his face was crimson.
"No apologizes needed," she said quietly. In a desperate attempt to change the subject, she asked, "What did you get Ron?"
From there the conversation went from Christmas present to Christmas past, the incident before forgotten between them.
If only Hermione could get the image of his eyes out of her head, so her heart rate would slow.
* * *
"I'm off to bed, Harry," she yawned two nights later.
"But it's Christmas Eve! You can't sleep!"
"Maybe you can't. I can." She stood up and stretched her arms. "Good night."
"'Night, Hermione," he called from his spot on an armchair.
She wearily climbed up the steps; it had been a long day. First, Peeves had hidden the first-years bags, and Hermione spent an hour searching for those and sending them along their way. Then she had rushed off to meet Professor Flitwick for extra training for her N.E.W.T.S., completely forgoing breakfast and lunch. On her way to Professor Davis, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, she planned to go to the kitchens later for a snack, but was saved the trouble when she found Harry waiting in his office with lunch for the both of them. After lunch, the two dueled several times under Professor Davis's eye. Harry was the victor of each of them and Hermione was very proud of him. Unfortunately, it resulted in many small aches for her. Grimacing, she flexed her left leg. Too good for his own good, she thought with grim humor, but it had saved his life during the war. She wouldn't have wanted anything less.
She reached her dormitory, dressed for bed, and collapsed into bed with a sigh. It had been a very productive and, once Harry was with her, fun Christmas Eve. Sleep overtook her thoughts.
* * *
A cry from downstairs awoke Hermione. It was eerily familiar, but she couldn't place it. She dashed out of bed, and half-way down the stairs, she knew who it was.
Harry.
Her mind went blank from terror. She put on an extra burst of speed and bounded down the steps three at a time. When she reached the bottom, she found Harry sitting upright and gasping for air on the armchair that she had left him in. At some point during the night he had put on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. The t-shirt was soaked with sweat and his eyes were blank as he stared at her.
She rushed to his side and kneeled down next to the chair. "Harry? Can you hear me?" she asked urgently. The growing numbers of Gryffindors in the common room were a blur. He had to be okay. "Harry?" she said a little louder.
He broke out of his trance. The same hands that seconds ago that had been gripping the arms of the chair were immediately embracing her. He buried his face in her neck. In hoarse, broken, sobs he choked out, "'Mione…'Mione…so worried…."
She stroked his hair. "It's alright, Harry. It's alright." The fifth-year shooed the gawking first-years back up the stairs. He didn't know them well, but he understood that the both of them needed privacy.
Hermione did not see them leave. Her only concern was Harry.
"He had you," he croaked. "Kidnapped you--killed you before my eyes. Laughed and called you Mudblood. Then he killed everyone else. He stared at me the whole time with those slits. And then it started over again. Grinned the entire time he was killing you. And…" His voice broke into sobs. "Hermione," he said between gasps.
"Don't worry. I'm here and Ron's alive. Ginny, Luna, Neville, and the Weasleys are all alive," she said comfortingly. "I'm here, Harry, I'm here."
He hugged her tighter. "Don't leave me."
"I won't, Harry."
They stayed that way for an hour. Hermione noted that Harry had become quiet and let him go. He began to panic.
"Please stay," he pleaded.
She was torn. Would it be right?
"Please, Hermione."
She climbed into his lap hesitantly and Harry laid his head on her shoulder. She moved into a more comfortable position.
"Thank you," he sighed.
He quickly fell asleep, leaving Hermione to contemplate her new situation. He had dreamed of her death and his reaction had been so violent. Why?
She fell asleep with her head full of questions and the feel of his heartbeat next to hers.
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