Chapter 2: Spoons
A few days later, Harry once again re-entered the tent after another shift as guardian. It was close to midnight, and the constant snowfall of the days before was replaced with a piercing wind which penetrated even the magical walls of their spacious tent.
As he started to remove his multiple layers of jackets and sweaters, Harry noticed a note written in smooth handwriting sitting on the table. Making sure to remove his soaking boots at the entrance ("Just because I'm your best friend doesn't mean I'm your house elf," Hermione had said), he walked into the dimly lit room and read the letter.
Dear Harry,
You know I usually stay up to chat when you're done with your shift, but I was feeling a bit under the weather and went to bed early. There is some mushroom soup keeping warm over the fire. I know it isn't much, but I think you can understand given our present conditions. I'll see you in the morning.
Love,
Hermione
PS: Don't forget to wash your dishes!
Harry smiled at the note, and sure enough a caldron of soup was boiling over the open flame. In the corner, Harry could see Hermione sleeping on one of the cots, covered by four times the normal amount of blankets and comforters in an effort to keep the cold at bay. Even by the fire, Harry noticed, the mighty winter wind was threatening frostbite. He ladled himself a cup of soup and ate it in silence, the warmth welcome in his empty and frozen stomach.
After cleaning his bowl and spoon (and as much of the kitchen and make-shift living room as possible, for good measure) Harry undressed and got ready for bed. Slipping on a thick Weasley sweater, Harry sluggishly made his way to his bed on the opposite side of the tent, anticipating the warmth of his sheets.
With one foot up and one foot on the floor, Harry almost shouted as he heard a sudden moan and the rustle of shifting linens. He turned quickly and realized the noise came from none other than Hermione. Even from across the tent, he could tell that she was shivering. Although his body punished him with a set of chills for leaving the potential warmth of his bed, he quickly rushed to Hermione's bedside. Despite the extra layers, her teeth were chattering from the cold. Gently, Harry placed the back of his hand on her forehead.
"Fever," he said to himself. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his wand, but immediately realized that he knew no spell which could help him cure his sick friend. Frowning, he wished that Madame Pomfrey was there to help him. He scratched his forehead, not knowing what to do next.
Hermione let out another moan of discomfort as she curled herself into a tighter ball. Deciding on the only plan he could think of, Harry returned to his bed and grabbed every single sheet he could. Tiptoeing back to Hermione's bed as not to wake her up, he started the process of burying her under his own blankets. When he had finished, Harry noted that she now resembled a napping Eskimo, the thick extra layers looking like a discolored parka.
Completing his task, he glanced back at his now naked cot, not looking forward to the subzero night ahead. He had not even taken one step before he realized that sleeping without any covers would be suicidal. He could see the headlines now: "The Chosen One Defeated in Uneventful Case of Hypothermia!" But turning back to Hermione (whose shaking had lessened significantly with the additional warmth), he knew that his sacrifice of personal luxury was well worth it if it made her more comfortable. He would do anything for her, and what was one night of sleeping in frigid conditions between best friends? He determined that there was no point of even sleeping, as from his room he would not be able to hear Hermione if she suddenly needed him during the night. He would have to stay near, so he accepted his fate of being both ridiculously cold AND ridiculously tired. There was no other way. Unless…
Unless…
"Merlin, please don't let Ron come back tonight."
Harry walked back to his room, and slowly carried his bed across the tent, placing it gently next to Hermione's. As soon as he placed it down, a swift blue flash lit the area and Harry saw that the two cots had formed together into one massive mattress. Mentally beating himself for the awkwardness that was sure to ensue in the morning, Harry climbed into his…hers…their bed and slowly untucked the sheets from Hermione, slipping under them beside her. Thankfully, they were large enough to cover both of them while maintaining enough space in-between so that they didn't touch. Harry was immediately pleased with his decision, as the warmth of the mound of blankets was more than enough to ward away the biting wind. Facing himself the opposite direction as Hermione and putting his glasses on the closest night stand, he closed his eyes and swiftly fell asleep.
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Hermione had no clue where she was. All around her were bright blue skies and large fluffy clouds. She seemed to be in mid-flight, but was not moving anywhere. She attempted to move what was supposed to be her arms, and discovered that she was completely herself, just…floating. Cautiously, she took a step forward, and immediately felt herself plummeting toward the Earth, the wind blowing past her at an alarming rate.
She tried to scream, but realized that in whatever universe she was in she had no voice. Perhaps she was dead? A ghost? As she pondered her present state, a dot emerged on the rolling hills below her. She blinked her eyes, and suddenly she was no longer flying. Instead, she was standing on a platform, facing a mob of familiar faces. To her right she could see the entire flock of Weasleys, Ron sitting with a glazed look on his face while Fred and George were pointing and laughing at something in the distance. To the left were a group of her school friends. Seamus, Dean, and Lavender were all chatting amongst themselves while behind them Professor McGonnagal was chatting with Professor Dumbledore.
"Dumbledore?" Hermione thought to herself. "I have to be dreaming."
From down the aisle between the two sides, she saw Cedric Diggory walking in with Cho on his arm, greeted by Mad-Eye Moody, Kreacher, and Winky.
"Definitely dreaming."
A chorus of trumpets echoed from behind her, which caused the conversation to cease. Only now did Hermione realize that all the people in the crowd donned elegant dresses and dress robes. She had seen this scene before: This was Bill and Fleur's wedding, but…different. For one, the happy couple was sitting with the rest of the Weasleys, their eyes staring at the arch opposite of the platform Hermione was standing on. Secondly, the Burrow was no where to be found, but instead the opening was surrounded by endless fields of flowers.
She blinked again and she was suddenly standing next to the first row of guests, and two people were standing at the alter. The groom had very messy black hair and a unique pair of glasses, and was absolutely beaming at his wife-to-be. Who she was, however, Hermione could not tell, for her face was covered with a long white veil.
She had seen this scene before: The wedding of her best friend. It had happened at Bill and Fleur's wedding, as the bride and groom were exchanging their vows with one another. She had been staring at the couple when her gaze had suddenly shifted to Harry, which caused her to smile so broadly. To imagine that one day he would have a bride, that one day he would be freed of his destiny as savior of the world, that one day he would be able to be normal, happy, and loved…it was that feeling which caused her to weep in happiness.
Suddenly, a disembodied voice said the words the crowd was waiting for. "You may kiss the bride."
Harry grinned from ear-to-ear. The moment seemed to pass in slow motion. He reached for the white veil, and he revealed that the bride's face turned out to be none other than…
Hermione let out a sudden gasp as the scene before her disappeared. She was no longer at a wedding ceremony; rather she was now looking at a tan canvas wall which was shaking slightly in the wind. Still adjusting to consciousness, she tried to move slightly but realized she was pinned down sideways by something heavy. A sleepy look over her shoulder revealed that a mountain of blankets lay on top of her, a lot more than she had originally slid over herself as she had fallen asleep. She tried to lift her head to get a better view, but immediately regretted it. A sharp pain penetrated her head, almost making her gasp as she remembered the migraine which had caused her to retire early. She had remembered freezing as she drifted to sleep under her extra covers, but now by whatever means the extra layers had appeared she felt much, much warmer. Not wanting to get up, she closed her eyes and rolled on to her other side as to let the circulation return to the arm she had been sleeping on.
Or rather, she attempted to switch her sleeping position before her roll was interrupted by a very firm wall.
Hermione's eyes shot open. There DEFINITELY was room to move around when she fell asleep. It was only then that she had realized that in her field of view there were way too many limbs. She was lying on her left arm, and her right hand was resting close to her forehead. However, another arm had slid under her neck and she was gently resting on it (how she had not noticed the pressure before, she did not know) and another was draped over her under the comforters, its hand gently resting on her stomach.
Not only was someone in her bed, someone was cuddling with her. Panic took over her body, but the gentle grip of this mysterious stranger and the extra layers of blankets pinned her in place.
"If only I could get my wand," she thought to herself. Wriggling her freehand under the sheets, she managed to grip the wand that was sitting in her pajama pocket. Slowly, to insure that her predator would not notice, she pointed her wand behind her back. However, she noticed that something was odd about this extra person's hand, the one belonging to the arm that had become her neck pillow. It looked like writing…but she couldn't make it out. After a minute of squinting and adjusting to the shallow light of the tent, she could just make out the last two words: "tell lies."
She gasped audibly. Her intruder was none other than her best friend. Her mind was instantly flooded with a million more complicated thoughts than before. Why was he in her bed? Why wasn't he sleeping in his own room? When did her bed get so big as to fit two people in the first place? Did the extra sheets belong to him?
After the obvious questions, she attempted to block out the more…awkward ones, but she couldn't help it. How had their bodies ended up so entangled? Did he intentionally snuggle up to her? Its not that she minded sharing a bed with her best friend, for she found nothing wrong with two platonic friends inhabiting the same sleeping situation if the circumstances brought them to it, despite the cultural taboo. It was just…she didn't know how to describe the feeling. Surprising was the word she settled for. She was sure that if someone had taken a picture of her right now, they would find the "Brightest Witch of Her Age", Hermione Granger, at a total loss of words.
Suddenly, she heard Harry mutter something incomprehensible, the warm air brushing against Hermione's ear, sending a shiver down her spine that definitely was not caused by the cold. This action was quickly followed by Harry's grip tightening around her stomach as he pulled even closer to her, his chest now perfectly aligned with her back and his nose buried in her hair, eliciting a flutter of butterflies in her chest. Her jaw dropped. This was not right, not right at all. Something was wrong. Not only was she now spooning with her best friend, her body was reacting in a very non-best friend way. She knew for a fact that she harbored no romantic feelings for Harry, she had come to that conclusion many times over her life. But this did not explain why her heart was beating so fast.
She was 100% sure that she was not, and would never be, in love with Harry Potter.
"I'm just shocked from the situation, that's all," Hermione reasoned with herself.
However, lying there in the cold with her best friend's arms around her, she felt a sense of security and happiness she had never felt in her entire life. Despite the plethora of questions she would want answered in the morning, she allowed herself to close her eyes with a guilty smile.
She knew their present situation was ridiculously wrong, but for tonight she would let it slide. And as if he was reading her mind, Harry unconsciously gave her a slight squeeze, instantly destroying any argumentative thoughts Hermione had left within her as for the first time in their lives, the two best friends slept peacefully together.
Harry knew he had him. For what seemed like hours, he had been chasing Voldemort down the alleys of London's business district. Finally, he had cornered the Dark Lord into a dead end, in which his archenemy had cowardly hid himself into the only available hiding place: a dark green dumpster standing against the back wall. Slowly, with his wand pointed and his mind ready, Harry approached the slightly shaking trash bin. He counted to himself, ready to end the years of suffering that he had experienced at Voldemort's hand.
"One...two...three!"
He burst open the lid of the dumpster, and was instantly hit with…
The delightful scent of Strawberries.
"That can't be right…" Harry thought to himself as his eyes fluttered open, aided by the slight sunlight which was radiating through the tent wall. If the scent had not surprised him, he definitely was not expecting to be greeted by a vision of bushy brown hair first thing in the morning. His face was completely buried in the back of his best friend's head, which immediately indicated to him that something very wrong had happened during the night. He had deliberately positioned himself as far away from her as possible without leaving the comfort of the blankets before going to bed specifically to prevent something like this from happening. His confusion was enhanced by the fact that his right hand was rhythmically moving under the sheets, the sudden realization that his hand was draped over Hermione and resting on her stomach hitting his brain with a powerful force.
Remembering that Hermione had been sick the night before, Harry tried not to awaken her despite the awkwardness, as the constant heavy breathing indicated that she was still sleeping peacefully. He attempted to move his left arm, but realized that it was being held down by Hermione's head. Harry swore mentally, knowing that he was, for all intensive purposes, trapped until she woke up.
Frozen in his place, he did the only thing he could do: Think. This, however, was the very last thing he wanted to do at the moment. Here he was, the famous Harry Potter, trapped under the sheets attached to his best friend. He knew that he had a tendency to move during sleep, but for two people to entwine themselves so intricately without a waking thought had to be a one in a million chance. One arm accidentally draped over her seemed plausible, even probable, but to be so close to one another…for him to have unconsciously cuddled next her from across the bed…for him to be touching from head to toe at every possible point with some part of her body, was a mathematical impossibility.
All thoughts left Harry's head as Hermione shifted a little next to him, sending a wave of pleasure throughout his body. The confusion he felt at this unusual physical reaction was replaced immediately by a frightening realization.
It was morning. This was a simple enough fact, but Harry was also a male. Yet another basic truth, but these two combined, along with the fact that he was only millimeters from his best friend, was a lethal combination. He prayed to Merlin that what usually occurred in his…lower region in the morning had not occurred today. But another unexpected movement by Hermione confirmed his deepest fear as another shockwave hit him.
"Someone kill me now," Harry thought, as the realization set in.
Although every part of him wished it wasn't true, the hard fact set in.
He was poking his best friend in the back.
Harry never felt so humiliated, ashamed, embarrassed…and most of all awkward at the position he was in…the position THEY were in. He made sure not to move a muscle, as not to make his exposure any more obvious than it had to be in fear that Hermione would awaken. He hoped, that given time, the problem would deal with itself. Lying in bed, his eyes wide open with shock, he took a little comfort in the fact that Hermione had not stirred.
But if Harry Potter could see through his best friend's head, he would realize that Hermione Granger was in fact quite awake, displaying the same wide-eyed expression that he was wearing.
Hermione had awoken with a smile on her face. She had just experienced the best slumber she had ever had in her life, and the morning rays emanating from the wall in front of her made her happy to be alive. She would never admit it to him, but she regretted the moment that they would have to part, and she was looking even less forward to the explanatory conversation that they would definitely have to have afterward.
A slight shiver from Harry cut through her thoughts, but the sudden cease of movement signaled to her that he was still asleep. "If he was awake," Hermione reasoned with herself, "he would have realized our predicament and moved away anyway." She adjusted herself a bit to get more comfortable against her companion, which elicited another odd jerk from Harry. It was after this that she realized something was pushing against her that she hadn't noticed before.
She closed her eyes lazily. Surely it was just his knuckle or finger, a body part that had shifted inadvertently during the night. She pulled the sheets closer to her for warmth, loving the feeling of being held.
"Wait a minute," Hermione thought, slowly connecting the dots. "If he's still holding me, and I'm still on his other arm…"
Her eyes shot open a second time, before the obvious thought hit her. "His wand Hermione, it's his wand. Get your mind out of the gutter." She felt dirty for thinking that it was anything else, especially grossed out for even having a fleeting thought of Harry's…unmentionables. She closed her eyes again, conceding herself to what she knew was the last few moments of their secret night together.
That lasted all of four seconds, when another revelation hit her like a brick wall. Harry always kept his wand in his shirt pocket when he slept. Even now, with his chest pressed so lightly against her, she could feel the solid piece of wood touching her shoulder blade. Her eyes shot open in horror, blushing in embarrassment enough for the both of them.
"Oh my god…Oh my GOD…OH MY GOD!" Hermione's panicked thoughts chanted. It really WAS Harry's…she couldn't even complete the thought. To think that her best friend had "awoken" without being awake elicited so many disturbing thoughts within her.
"Is he dreaming about…is Harry Potter really thinking about doing or receiving or viewing who knows what while he's holding…accidentally embracing ME?" The thought made her sick. The night had gone from weird, to unexpectedly nice, to…frightening. The thoughts continued to hit her, increasing in frequency as her heart raced. Then an even more disturbing thought sped through her head.
"Is this a subconscious physical reaction to…to me?" Hermione gagged at the thought. She definitely was going to be sick.
"Ummm…good morning," she heard someone whisper. She let out a small yelp, the sudden breach of silence interrupting her stream of uncomfortable thoughts.
Harry had noticed Hermione make a small, cough-like noise, and had taken the opportunity to attempt to coax her awake. He couldn't stand the tension anymore, and he had to separate himself from Hermione before he died out of awkwardness.
Hermione knew that he would eventually awake, but she had half hoped that he would move his arm so that she could free herself from their extra connection. Unfortunately, they were both too paralyzed in horror to move a muscle.
"Good morning," she managed to utter in a voice an octave higher than it should have been. Even if she could move, she did not know if she could face Harry at this moment. As a matter of fact, she did not know if she could ever look at Harry the same way again. A very uncomfortable silence filled the room, as neither knew how to continue their conversation. The shadow of the fire danced on the wall Hermione was keeping her eyes glued to, the only movement in the otherwise still room.
"Err…how are you feeling?" asked Harry helplessly.
Hermione thought of several ways to reply to Harry's quarry, but decided to play the subtlety game, answering him with what she knew to be an unbelievable "ok."
Harry inhaled another breath of Hermione's strawberry-scented hair before continuing. "Uhhh…I guess I have some explaining to do, huh?" Harry said, knowing that this conversation was not going to end on a high note.
"Huh? Oh yeah, I am a bit confused, I guess." Hermione said after a minute. She realized from Harry's fast breathing on her neck that he was feeling as unpleasant as she was. She also realized that he was still holding her, not to mention that the "other" Harry was still making friends with the small of her back.
Another silence filled the room, Harry trying with every nerve in his body to calm himself down. He knew the cure to the situation would be to use the bathroom, but he could not think of any way of telling Hermione he had to go without also admitting to her that…it was currently in contact with her body. He also realized that in his frozen state, he was still holding her close, her body fitting perfectly into his. As awkward as it was, a part of him didn't want to move. The truth was that despite the fact that they had unintentionally fallen into this position, he did not want to let go of her. He had never held somebody in his entire life, and something about lying there with the person he trusted most in his life made the entire ordeal almost worth it.
Almost worth it.
"Umm…Hermione? I don't know how we ended up like this, but would you mind lifting your head? I have to use the washroom." Harry said in desperation. "Way to be nonchalant, Potter," he thought to himself as he squeezed his eyes in embarrassment.
"Yeah ok," responded Hermione, perhaps a little too fast. Harry let go of his embrace and quickly lifted the sheets, sprinting as fast as he could to the nearby bathroom. Hermione let out a sigh as she heard the door click, banishing away the nasty part of her mind which was telling her he was emptying more than just his bladder in there. Somehow she had survived the most uncomfortable experience of her life, and she was just happy that her mind could return to more…sane thoughts.
Harry returned a few minutes later, much relieved and happy to be rid of his second self. He sat down cross-legged on the bed, facing the opposite way of Hermione in the hopes that if she turned to look at him he would not have to meet her gaze.
He cleared his throat in attempt to relieve the thickness of the air around them. "I read your note last night. How'd you sleep?" started Harry, beginning what he knew would be a horribly interesting conversation. He could feel his brow already getting damp in nervous perspiration.
Hermione took a deep breath. If she was going to have this conversation (and she knew for the sake of maintaining their friendship they would have to) she would not let the awkwardness prevent her from knowing the truth. "I slept well, thanks. What about you? Have any good dreams?" She added the last part as a casual topic of conversation, not realizing the terrible path that it could take them to until she had finished her sentence.
"Yeah, I guess," said Harry absentmindedly, slightly confused that of all the things Hermione could ask about, she would start with his dreams. Besides, she knew as well as she did that he rarely had "good" dreams anymore.
Hermione, on the other hand, took his innocent response in completely the wrong way. She mimed a gag before continuing. "Hmm…I could tell."
"What do you mean you could…" Harry trailed off as he realized what her comment implicated. "Oh God, she thinks that…THAT was caused by…" he silently groaned. Somehow, things had just become more complicated.
"Hermione, about that…you gotta understand that guys…well guys have a tendency to…" he heard Hermione shift around under the sheets, and he could tell that she was boaring into the back of his head with a bemused look on her face.
"…be sex-driven animals?" Hermione finished for him, finally being able to embrace the humor of the situation.
"NO! No no no, that's not what I was going to say!" Harry said, his voice cracking mid-sentence. He heard Hermione giggle behind him. He was glad that one of them was enjoying this, because he sure wasn't.
"Harry, relax" said Hermione, unwilling to admit out loud that she was freaked out by the situation too. "Just next time you have naughty dreams about Ginny, have the decency not to be spooning another girl while you're doing it."
Hermione blushed wildly and covered her mouth. She definitely had not intended to verbalize that last part. Harry's face had turned the color of Ron's hair. He had not, until now, ever considered what they had done to be spooning. That's something couples did. And he and Hermione were definitely NOT a couple. He ran his hand through his messy hair and tried to calm his nerves down before he spoke again.
"Well, for starters we were NOT spooning," Harry corrected her, an odd chill sweeping through his body at the word. "And I was not thinking about Ginny!"
He regretted adding that last sentence as soon as the words left his mouth, despite it being the truth.
"Oh really, Mr. Potter?" Hermione said with laughter in her words. "Who was it then? Cho Chang? Lavender? Or maybe Fleur?"
"Ah, Hermione gross!" Harry protested. He was glad that she was introducing lightheartedness into their conversation. The easiness in being to communicate with her after such an odd event reminded him of one of the many reasons he cherished his friendship with her. "Fine, I'll admit it," he said, adding a dramatic pause for effect. "I was having dirty thoughts of Madame Maxine, ok?"
Harry's sarcastic response was repliedto with a long, drawn out "Ewwww!" and a swift bash to the back of the head with a pillow. He fell back onto the bed in a fit of laughter, which blended with Hermione's giggles to fill the room. It was a good five minutes before the smiles had fallen off their faces.
"But seriously Hermione, guys just sometimes," he stopped to choose his words carefully "awaken down there in the morning before they use the washroom, its some sort of natural occurrence." He absolutely refused to throw the words "morning wood" into their already inappropriate chat.
"Oh," she said, a chorus of Hallelujah playing in her mind, since this new found information cleared all naughty thoughts from her conscience. Even though she was an intelligent young woman, she wished that she had spent a little more time studying the biology. Certainly they had not taught anything close to that in Muggle studies. "Well good then. Just…please, let's not let that happen again, alright?" she said, turning her head to face Harry. This led her to the question that had been in her mind since she had first notice him sleeping next to her. "Harry, how did this happen anyway?"
Harry turned to look at her best friend's face. He had expected to see her glaring at him like he was some sort of pervert who had crossed the line into her private space, but instead she wore a look a genuine curiosity, the same look that dawned over her whenever they were introduced to a new spell in class. He told the story of how he had been worried about her, sacrificing his own blankets to stop her cold shivers. She listened intently as he told her of how he wanted to stay near in case she needed something, and about how the beds had magically joined together before he slipped under the covers to prevent himself from becoming a human icicle.
"So you see, my intents were noble. And I swear to you that I started as far away from you as possible. How we ended up in…that arrangement is beyond me," Harry finished.
Hermione held back a smile. "Yes, that was quite interesting." she said softly, the memory of their closeness and his arms around her causing goose bumps to form on her body for reasons quite beyond her. "But thank you for caring so much Harry, the rest certainly did wonders for me. I feel absolutely wonderful."
Harry smiled at the admittance of gratitude. For no apparent reason at all, Harry had a sudden urge to run his hand down the side of Hermione's smiling face, but he brushed away the thought.
Eventually the two got up and dressed, preparing themselves for the now almost mechanical routine of destroying their present location of evidence before moving to a new location. As they stood outside and Hermione shoved the tent back into her purse, Harry took out his invisibility cloak and placed it over them.
"Ready?" she asked Harry as she thought of their next location. He smiled and nodded, and she returned his smile with a wide grin of her own. As they disappeared with a "pop!" out of view, they both were thinking the same thought: Despite the ending, in the very back of their minds they both secretly wished that last night would somehow happen again.