Harry Potter was called "The Boy Who Lived" for a reason. For when he was merely one year old, the Dark Lord Voldemort had come searching for Harry's parents, Lily Evans and James Potter, ordering for their only child to beome a follower of him when he grew up. His parents had thoroughly refused. James had blocked Voldemort's way to Lily and the baby. As a result, his life was gone from his body in a millisecond and a flash of green light. Voldemort got through, only to find Lily shielding baby Harry. He'd told her cruelly to step aside, and when she had refused, her life was gone just like her husband's. Only Harry was left, locked in a staring contest with Voldemort. As Voldemort raised his wand to perform the deadly spell, it had somehow backfired and Voldemort was reduced to something less than a shadow.
Everyone knew this story. Even Harry, who's memory had been completely hazy of this until he was eleven. As the years passed, he learned more and more about this tragic event. He decided that after all that he had faced in the past four years, he could hold his own against Voldemort for a little while. Of course he'd need help, but he wasn't entirely depedent. Not since first year.
So even if Voldemort WAS closer to Harry than anyone thought, Harry wasn't as worried about that as he once was. He knew he had protection always. He was glad he had learned all that he had over the past four years. No, he had a new worry: his relationship with one of his best friends, Hermione Granger.
They still hadn't talked about that night way back when. The night when he had found her and Ron snogging in the common room. Actually, that had happened twice, and they hadn't talked at all about either time. Harry was anxious about when this talk would come and how it would go. They also still had to resolve that nasty fight concerning Ron. Harry just didn't know how to approach the subject.
Christmas Holidays were approaching fast. Halloween had passed by too quickly. Harry had been so immersed in his schoolwork, Quidditch, and keeping his mind OFF his own personal life that he had barely noticed it, and he was a bit disappointed. His past Halloweens had been so much fun, even though extremely dangerous. Harry sighed to himself as he ran his finger down the thick dictionary before him, looking up "Alluminate." When did I become a bookworm like Hermione? he thought to himself absently as he scrolled down the list of words in this unbelievably huge book. At the thought of her name, he groaned silently and put his head down on the desk. He had JUST, after half an hour, managed to push her out of his mind for a bloody five minutes, before she came tumbling in again. He looked up and saw Madame Pince, the librarian. She regarded him with a curious look, then said briskly, "Library's closing, Mr. Potter. Please go back to your dorm." Harry nodded, quickly scribbled the definition down, and rushed out of the library, stuffing his things in his bag as he went.
He saw the last person he wanted to see walking down the corridor towards him with his signature smirk in place.
"What are doing about so late at night, Potter? Going somewhere secret? To shag Granger in a broom closet, perhaps?"
"Malfoy, if you value your life, you'll back off," Harry growled as he sidestepped the blond Slytherin and continued walking.
"Or perhaps that Weasley slut?" the younger Malfoy emerged now, with a sneer. Harry rolled his eyes. Was this kid a marionette operated by Malfoy?
"What?" Harry snapped, trying to get past the small but fast boy.
"Oh, you're right. She's MUCH more MY type," he drawled. "So who IS your type? Peeves, maybe?" he snickered. Before he could answer, the older cut in, "Potter, you look like death! Why would even Peeves want to shag you? Even ghosts have dignity!" The youth added, "You missed Halloween, Potter! You would've been good! That mask is hideous!" At that, they both cracked up laughing. Harry couldn't take it anymore. He already had too much going on. He did NOT need this right now.
"Oh, you like it? I thought you would. It rather looks like you. And since you both enjoy looking in mirrors so
much, I thought it would fit best," Harry retorted and stalked off, leaving two fuming Malfoys.
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The snow fell in small dots. They looked rather like the tiny balls of cotton Muggles used. They made everything around look a pure shade of white. Winter Break had started as of yesterday at three o' clock, right after classes. The decoration of the Great Hall was already underway, students were preparing to go home, and others were just milling about. Ron was going back to The Burrow for Break tomorrow, so he and Harry were engaged in a heated game of Wizard's Chess. So far, there had been a lot of casualties, but neither was winning, unfortunately. Hermione's nose was buried in a book as usual, except her location had changed from the library to in front of the cozy common room fire.
"Damn it!" Ron cried as Harry took his bishop with his own bishop. The bishop stuck its tongue out at its opponent, who glared at Ron and marched off the board, grumbling to himself. Ron studied the board for a moment, then cut Harry's knight's head off with his rook. Harry winced. That was so obvious! But he was leading, so he shrugged it off and studied the board for a couple of minutes. Hermione had been studying them both over her book. Their exclaims every little while was annoying her very much.
"See!? Now you CAN'T do that!" Ron yelled, pointing at Harry.
"Yes, I can! The rook was here, and I moved it here, thereby killing your knight! Not my fault you weren't paying attention!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and returned to her book.
Kendall Kettleworth quickly dropped onto all fours, only to see a great shadow emerging before him. He looked up…
"HA! Ron, you clod! Your attention span of a rodent just cost you your queen!"
"Damn it!" Hermione lowered her book for the umpteenth time. She glanced at the board, annoyed to the maximum. Granted, she didn't know that much about chess, but she had seen Ron and Harry, Ron and Dean, Harry and Seamus, play it repeatedly over the years. She rolled her eyes. In a few moves, the whole game could be over and, even better, no more interruptions. She got up from her position on the couch and kneeled in front of the board. As Harry and Ron looked up at her in surprise, she quickly took Harry's knight with Ron's rook, took Ron's bishop with Harry's queen, moved the queen up a few paces, glanced at Harry, then Ron, and said calmly, "Checkmate, Ron. Sorry. You lose. Now that the game's over, maybe you two will let me read my story in peace," and briskly returned to her spot on the couch and raised the book to her eyes. Before it covered her vision, she could see Ron muttering and staring at the board, and Harry's dazzling green eyes staring at her.
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The next day dawned bright and snowy, the day of Ron's departure. Harry woke up by Ron shaking him awake roughly ("Come ON, Harry! Stop being such a lazy prat!"). After he had showered and dressed, they went downstairs to find Hermione in the room talking to Jessie, a Fourth Year, who beamed at Harry and batted her eyelashes. Harry ignored this as best as he could and instead gave her a small smile. He had learned recently that Jessie had a colossal crush on him, as she had been batting her eyelashes quite a lot lately and mentioning his name everywhere. He sneaked a glance at Hermione, who he guessed had noticed Jessie, because she had an annoyed frown on her face. His eyes lingered for a moment on her angelic face before moving further down. She was wearing a plaid pleated skirt that stopped about mid-thigh, showing her long graceful legs. On top, she was wearing a baby blue turtleneck sweater. She had washed her hair, he could tell. It was glistening from the flames that burned contentedly in the fireplace.
"Morning," Ron greeted the other two as he wandered over to Hermione and placed a light kiss on her lips. When he pulled away, Harry could note that she looked slightly uncomfortable. They went to breakfast and Ron and Harry chatted about Quidditch (they wanted to get as much in as possible before he left), while Lavender's bowl had to be replaced several times since they kept filling up with drool from her staring at Harry. After breakfast, Ron suggested, "Hey! Who wants to have a snowball fight?"
"Snowball fight, Ron? Don't you have to leave?" Hermione asked.
"Not until two," he answered, grinning. She grinned back slightly. They all rushed to their dorms to get the coats and gloves. Once outside, where there was a pleasant but crisp wintry breeze blowing about gently. The snow was still falling, and Harry observed as the small drops settled themselves in Hermione's bushy hair, adorning it quite beautifully. She noticed him staring. In fact, she had felt his eyes boring into her. She looked up at him and grinned, and when he grinned back, she felt a funny twinge in her stomach. She pondered for a second as to what it was, but shrugged it off as Jessie pulled her towards a large pile of snow that had collected toward the middle of the field. Hermione stumbled but followed Lavender as fast as she could, laughing. Yes. I'm going to have FUN today. No stress. Just FUN, she determinedly reminded herself as she reached the middle, where she and Lavender were facing Harry and Ron on the other side of the mound.
Hermione sighed. This was going to be a messy fight. Before she could even finish the thought, a snowball whirled past her ear as fast as a Bludger, narrowly missing her. She looked around to see Harry grinning devilishly. She smirked back and proceeded to just walk around, examining her surroundings. After a few minutes, Harry decided she wasn't going to retaliate, and bent down to gather another snowball. Hermione chose her moment carefully and gathered a sloppy snowball in one hand, heaving it at Harry's back. Unfortunately, it hit his butt, making him shoot up straight and turn around to see her, laughing uncontrollably. Harry dropped the snowball and paused for a second, then ran at her.
Hermione squealed and tried to run away faster, but the amount of snow was too much. How's Harry managing to run so fast? she wondered. She cast a quick glance behind her and saw that he was running along the outskirts of the forest, where the snow was a minimum. She struggled to get out of the knee-deep snow, but not quickly enough. She felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist and lift her up into the air a couple of feet. She screamed.
"Put me down this instant, Harry Potter!" she instructed through a laugh. He just laughed and twirled her around, then, with an "If you insist", dropped her on the snow. Fortunately, the snow was soft. She lifted her head out of the cold snow and saw him laugh, his green eyes sparkling, then offer a hand to help her up. She took his hand, but as he started to lift up, she yanked him down so he fell facedown in the snow.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed, turning around so was laying on his back, propped up on his elbows. She laughed and said, "Serves you right!" She sat up next to him and looked down at him. Wow. He's changed a lot more than I thought, she said to herself. His cheekbones were defined, and even though his hair was as messy as it had ever been, it had a certain...radiance about it. Eyes travelling further down, she noticed that his coat was open, revealing a dark blue shirt which, since he was in the position he was now, showed all of his stomach muscles, which were quite impressive, she had to admit. He watched her, fully aware that she was examining him, and returning the favor.
"Hey, you guys! Where are you?" Ron's voice rang out. They snapped out of their temporary daze and looked up in time to see Ron and Lavender appear above them, their faces equally red and identical smiles spread across their faces. What just happened? Harry asked himself. He sighed, decided it was his imagination, and stood up. Hermione followed and brushed herself off quickly.
"Harry thought it would be funny if he dumped me in the snow like a sack of potatoes," she mumbled, smiling nervously, thoughts of the previous minutes swirling around in her head. Ron beamed back at her.
"I have to go. It's almost two," Ron said, glancing at his watch. Hermione walked over to his side and kissed him on the cheek. He grew redder than he had been, but didn't say anything. He simply enveloped Hermione in a huge hug, then threw his arm around her shoulder casually as they walked back to the castle.
Following, Jessie grinned and linked her arm through Harry's. He glanced down and smiled, feeling extremely uncomfortable.
"I'm going to miss you, mate," Ron turned to Harry and slapped him on the back once they were back in the castle.
"Its only for a week, Ron," Harry laughed, slapping him back. They grinned at each other and Ron said, "Merry Christmas." Harry returned it, and then Ron turned to Hermione. He smiled down at her, then lowered his head and kissed her deeply. She seemed to respond awkwardly, Harry saw, and looked a bit...glad? when he pulled back. She smoothed the front of her skirt unnecessarily and waved to Ron, who, as the green flames flared up, was gone.
Harry, Hermione and Jessie walked back slowly to Gryffindor Tower to notice that it was positively deserted. Everyone's gone home for Christmas? Harry thought disbelievingly. And left me and Hermione here!?!?!? followed. Well, ol' chap, at least Jessie's still here, he said to himself, but couldn't decide whether this was good or bad.
"So sorry, but I've got to go. My brother's flooing to Dumbledore's office to pick me up. Happy Christmas!" Jessie announced, and with a wave, she was gone. Tough luck, that was his next thought. He turned and faced Hermione, who was staring around awkwardly.
"Well, Harry, looks like we're the only ones who're left," she commented, strolling over to the
couch. He nodded. He was happy, only because he would get to see Hermione, the girl he loved, without much
interruption. He was angry, only because all his other friends had deserted him, and now he had nothing to occupy his
mind except Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. In that order.
The silence was so thick, you could hear a pin drop. The only faint sound came from Hermione's scratching quill
from where she was doing her Transfiguration notes, on top of the center table in the Gryffindor common room. Harry was
rereading "Flying With The Cannons", but he had stopped a while ago to admire Hermione, as he had been doing
lately. Different thoughts were overwhelming him, and he suddenly realized that he understood why Dumbledore had a
Pensieve. He also thought he could really use one right now.
"What, Harry?" she asked, looking up from her notes with a small smile on her face. She knew he had been studying her. She hadn't completely gotten used to it, but she knew. She had been doing the same thing, only more subtly. He blinked, then said, "Oh. Nothing," with a deep breath. She looked at him for a couple more seconds, then turned back to her notes.
Oh, god, he groaned inwardly. Even when he breathed, he smelled her. Her scent of rose petals
wafted over to where he was sitting, on the armchair closest to the fire. Her scent was intoxicating. His head swam
even more. He decided he had to get out of here, even if just for a minute.
"I'm going outside to get a breath of fresh air," he announced, putting his book down. She looked up and nodded. He turned and left the room. He went to the entrance of Hogwarts, the four steps covered in snow, and stepped onto them in the frigid weather. Even though the quickly setting sun shone brightly, the snow still fell, making everything colder. He remembered their snowball fight the previous day, making him smile. He glanced at his watch, which read 8:30. He had just gotten out of dinner, where Dumbledore had made them all sing Christmas Carols. Watching Snape grumble "Deck The Halls" was not pretty, and neither was him in a Santa hat. Harry inhaled deeply, and stepped off the last step onto the snow.
"OW!" he exclaimed, clutching his left upper arm. He looked to where he had scratched himself and saw a sharp icicle jutting out from the pillar.
"Shit," he muttered to himself. He raised his hand from where it had got him, and it was covered in a long thin streak of blood. He walked quickly to the Infirmary, holding his right hand over his left arm. He burst in (with a look of strong disapproval from Madam Pomfrey), and sat down on a bed quickly. She bustled over to him.
"Why the rush, Potter?" she asked briskly. He removed his hand and showed her the deep cut on his arm. She inhaled somewhat sharply, but only for a second before she bustled about again. She cleansed the wound with a purple liquid that stung, then put a paste on it that felt like cement. Then, she gave him a small vial of a chunky white liquid.
"Just drink it," she instructed impatiently when he looked at it with a look of disgust. He forced it down in one gulp, then handed the vial back to her. He lowered the arm of his shirt over the wound when she said, "Go on. It won't hurt the paste any", and she took her wand out and muttered, "Detergeo", which made the blood stain on his shirt disappear. He thanked her and headed for the common room.
"Have a nice breath of air?" she asked as he stepped through the portrait hole. He smiled back and said, "Could've been better." She got up and sat across from him on the floor in front of the fire.
"Hermione, we need to talk about something," he started, thinking that this was as good a time as any.
"What?" she asked. He could see her clearly, biting her bottom lip as she often did when she was nervous.
"About...about that fight we had the other day," he replied. "Look. I'm sorry," he plundered on before she could stop him. "I had no right to say that. Ron's your friend too, and you were just looking out for him as well. I shouldn't have said that. What was I thinking? Well, I was thinking..."
During his 'explanation', Hermione studied him very closely. His eyes were pleading, which broke her heart. She had never intended to be mad at him in the first place. She couldn't. She had tried, sure, but never succeeded. Her mind had always turned to the weird fluttery feelings she got whenever she was around him.
"And Ron's my best friend, and I had so much going on..." All of a sudden, the urge to kiss him came over her. Whoa. Where did that come from, Granger? she asked herself, surprised. Then, she realized, she had wanted to do it for quite some time. She smiled to herself and decided that she needed to be braver. If she wanted to kiss him, then by GOD, she would kiss him. And it was a free country! But what if it gets really awkward? Or if he doesn't like you like that? What if... her brain rattled off, but she tuned it out, smiled, and silenced Harry with a deep kiss.
Harry was taken aback. Hermione was kissing him. Hermione was kissing him! A million thoughts were racing through his brain, adding to the million already there, but they were all pushed out as he relaxed into the kiss and felt her smile against his mouth. Her hands moved from on his cheeks down his arms, where it hit his wound, causing him to wince.
"What's wrong?" she asked, immediately pulling back, concern flooding her whole face. He smiled a bit and told her what had happened.
"Oh, you poor thing," she said. "Can I see it?"
He hesitated, then reluctantly started to roll up his sleeves.
"I know a quicker way," she said, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He stared into her eyes the whole time, and they seemed to say that she wanted this as much as he did. Of course, he wasn't an expert. She carefully slipped the shirt off his broad shoulders.
Wow. Quidditch has served him well, she thought with a smile as she surveyed him. He had strong chest and abs in addition to his broad shoulders. He definitely wasn't the scrawny little boy she had met in first year. Even though I had found him adorable then, too, she admitted as she lowered her mouth to his. His hands reached up and entwined in her hair. Then, she slowly pulled away, both of them equally breathless. There had been a...shock wave pass through one to the other. She looked at his arm, and even though the paste was gone, it was still a little raw. She bent down and gently kissed it, making him shiver.
"Harry..." she whispered, looking directly into his eyes.
"Hermione..." he whispered back, before she captured his mouth with hers.