A/N: This will be my first and only author's note for this series, for I think people really just want to get to the fluffiness, but wow! Thanks all for the great reviews, they really did inspire me to whip up this chapter faster than usual. I just have to address a few things. If you notice this story to stray towards the "Horcruxes, what Horcruxes?" side, or if they are speaking/acting a bit (or a lot, I don't know) OOC, or if there is a minor contradiction to former canon in my writing, I apologize in advance. Then again, DH wasn't that accurate to cannon either, no was it? Oops sorry, rant done. But this is just an idea which popped into my head and I ran with it. That's what good fanfiction is about! I have no clue where it will end, but I do have lots more plot bunnies up my sleeve, so keep reviewing and I'll keep (trying to be) entertaining! I also apologize for any grammatical and spelling errors, me and my proofers try our hardest!
Thanks much, Wilkes
PS: Did I mention this is my first fic EVER? Ok, back to the show :)
Chapter 3: When Walls Come Tumbling Down
"Bloody hell Hermione, that was close!" said Harry, trying to catch his breath.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't even see them until they started coming for me!" Hermione managed to muster as she clutched the pain in her side. She too was breathing heavily.
Harry had been standing guard in front of the tent when he had heard a commotion coming from the forest to his right. He had to squint past the snowfall to see three hounds bounding straight towards his location, chasing after the footprints of an invisible being. Harry had just readied his wand to stun the dogs when something had literally tackled him, the two of them tumbling past the entrance of the tent and winding up on top of one another as the flap leading to the outside magically sealed itself.
Harry made a motion to push Hermione off of him, but she stopped him by slapping her hand over his mouth. He hadn't noticed the shadows of three enormous hunting dogs sniffing along the outside of the tent. Harry knew that the wards they put up would prevent the predators from tracing them, or seeing the tent at all, but with the looming threat of Voldemort finding them, he did not want to push his luck.
After several grueling minutes, he heard a loud whistle and saw the dogs turn their heads. Two of them returned to the caller immediately, the third trailing behind after one final sniff of his lost prey. Both Harry and Hermione let out the breath they had been holding, their hearts still thumping after the surprise attack.
Hermione had been out in the nearby woods searching for edible vegetation for their supper. They had been taking shifts scavenging for food everyday, usually barely scraping enough mushrooms or the occasional fish to tide their hunger for a few hours. Even now, Harry could see Hermione's bounty of berries scattered on the floor around him, the invisibility cloak also lying in a heap nearby.
"Sorry about that Harry. I was so reckless! I had found a clearing with a bunch of bushes containing these berries; I was so excited that I forgot to check my surroundings. Even though I was invisible, they must have noticed my scent and got curious," Hermione explained, still trying to catch her breath.
"Well, you didn't have to knock me over. I had a perfect chance to stun them as they were coming after you," Harry retorted, the bump on the back of his head beginning to grow.
"You should be grateful! If you had, the wards protecting this tent would have broken and then we would have much worse things to worry about then some overgrown mutts," Hermione snapped back. Harry immediately felt sorry, admitting that his knowledge of protective charms was far from comprehensive
There was a moment of silence, and Harry swore that he saw Hermione blush, but she turned away too quickly for him to confirm this. His stomach did a little back flip as he too started to blush.
In the panic of the moment, neither had realized that Hermione was lying directly on top of him.
As nonchalantly as she could, she rolled off of Harry and began to gather their dinner for the night, making sure not to make eye contact with him. Harry, on the other hand, remained lying down on the floor. He had noticed that ever since their incident the night before, there had been an unintentional element of weirdness amongst the two of them. Whenever they came into physical contact, usually by accident, they seemed to jump away from each other as if electrically shocked. He determined that although they had cleared the air between them, there was still an undertone of awkwardness in the tent.
He heard a voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Hermione's tell him that they were acting like embarrassed school children, but he brushed it off.
They spent the rest of the evening distracting themselves with chores, Hermione preparing their meal and Harry reviewing for the hundredth time all the information about Horcuxes they had gathered, although he knew that no new conclusions would be found. Their conversation had become nothing more than one-liners and head motions, and although a part of Harry missed their ordinarily enjoyable banter, the silence was a lot better than risking having to speak about the day before again.
It wasn't that he wanted to pretend like the whole ordeal hadn't happened; it was just that he did not know how he was felt about it. He sighed and rubbed his temple as he picked up another list of notes in Hermione's handwriting, this one labeled "Potential Hiding Places" (Ron had scribbled underneath it "…and the million reasons why we won't find anything there"). Yes, he knew when he climbed into bed with her that it was going to cause a bit of drama, but he never expected his body to betray his clean intentions. Also, he could not help but feel that a part of Hermione had given him permission to cross the narrow line between friendship and…"physical intimacy" was the phrase he chose to describe it after several hours of searching for an appropriate title. Never in his life had he ever wanted to be with Hermione in a way more than just being friends, he was sure of that at least. After several minutes of silent contemplation, he decided that the emotions he was feeling were just side effects of an unexpected dramatic experience, and nothing more.
Shortly after, Hermione announced that their dinner was ready, and they ate their fruit and broth practically in silence, Harry's gaze shifting to a dark burn spot on the table every time their eyes accidentally met. Likewise, Hermione found a loose thread on her sweater much more amusing then trying to strike up a conversation with her best friend. Neither seemed to notice that both their bowls had emptied and they were now pointlessly sitting across from each other, politely ignoring one another.
Harry, deciding that anything would be better than being around his best friend at the moment, picked up the dishes and headed to the kitchen. Lost in his own musings, he gave a slight jump when he felt Hermione reach over his stomach to grab a washcloth, drying the rinsed bowls and spoons as he cleaned the remnants of their supper off of them.
He had had enough. One of them had to be the bigger person and pop the awkward bubble they had trapped themselves into. "Hermione, about last night…"
"Hmm?" she responded passively, although Harry noticed that she was rubbing a caked on piece of food on the bowl she was drying with much more force than necessary. She had not turned her head to look at him when he started talking.
"Look, it was weird, and both of us can't explain how it happened, but it did. It's just a curious situation that will make for one hell of a story to tell our children one day." He paused as Hermione shot him a look for the first time all night, eyebrows raised. Realizing what he had just said, he caught the spoon that he had squeezed out of his hand in surprise before adding, "Umm…err…our respective children, of course."
"Right, uh…of course" Hermione said swiftly as she turned her attention back to drying, "Of course." There was another moment of quiet before she continued. "I mean, there is absolutely nothing wrong with two platonic friends of opposite genders, who have known each other as long as we have, to share a bed for a night, right?. Especially if it is for very, very understandable reasons!" Somehow she had managed to utter all of that in one breath.
"Exactly!" Harry said, hoping that his feigned confidence hid the fact that he was still not comfortable about what had happened. "I mean, it was cold, and you were sick, and--"
"--and you couldn't just leave someone who is sick alone--"
"Right! And if you had been awake, I'm sure you wouldn't have minded--"
"-right, don't be ridiculous! I wouldn't have you freeze to death just for my sake--"
"--of course you wouldn't! So it was one hundred percent consensual--"
"--and nothing happened--"
"--and nothing happened! No one could blame us because when we shifted into that position, we weren't in control of our actions--"
"-yes yes, no need to feel guilty. We are just a boy and a girl who did our best to continue on comfortably given the conditions!"
"It was survival, nothing else!"
"Yes, survival!"
They both took a deep breath, and let out an unsure and very soft laugh. To justify last night as "survival" was a stretch, but to call it that certainly made themselves feel better. They finished the dishes and did a little cleaning around the kitchen to as a distraction from their own thoughts.
"So…" Harry added as he put the knives away into a drawer. "You're not going to hex me to death, right?"
Hermione genuinely laughed this time, and patted him on the shoulder. "Of course not, Harry. I am perfectly alright with what happened. Like you said, it's a one time thing that will make a funny story one day. Let's just move on. It's not like we'll ever be put into that situation again anyway."
She hoped that this little speech had hidden her anxiety, and when Harry gave her a slight smile and returned to his notes in the opposite part of the tent, Hermione let out a sigh of relief. The truth was that she was relieved that they never had to be in that situation again, as it had ignited feelings within her which she was incapable of deciphering at the moment. They were in the middle of a war, and the last thing she needed was to add more mysteries to her life. She was perfectly happy deeming them a symptom of her brief stint of sickness anyway.
Being forced to stay indoors for the night in fear of being tracked again, they both began to realize how redundant being in hiding could be. Harry had blazed through their Horcrux notes so many times that he was not even reading the words on the papers in front of him anymore, and Hermione only feigned reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard, her mind obviously elsewhere.
Harry let out a yawn. With his brain in overdrive the whole day, his sudden fatigue had come as no surprise. He changed into his pajamas (Hermione had noticed him undressing and turned away, blushing furiously despite having seen his toned chest several times before) and went into the bathroom to wash up before bed. Hermione took this brief stint of privacy to change into her own night clothes. Even if Harry and Ron's were fine with public exhibitionism, she still had a sense of modesty.
"Well, Hermione, I'm exhausted. I think I'm gonna get some rest," said Harry.
She let out a yawn in response. "That sounds lovely right now. Sweet dreams, Harry."
"You too, wake me up if you need anything. Night, 'Mione," said Harry, taking drowsy steps towards his room. Inspired with a sudden burst of happiness at the thought of once again sleeping without a sense of guilt, he was looking forward to getting a good night's sleep. He placed his glasses on the side table, made sure that his wand was secure in his shirt pocket, and glanced over at Hermione to make sure she was ok. Presently she was climbing into bed, her dressing gown a lot more revealing of her figure than her bundles from the night before, as the dying chill of the winter storm had stripped them of the need to wear extra layers to sleep. Harry gawked. When had Hermione gotten curves like that? He frowned as her body disappeared under the sheets before he could investigate the matter further and the light dimmed in the room (courtesy of Hermione's wand), but almost immediately he started to choke on his spit.
"Best friends do not check one another out, Harry Potter!" He heard a voice in his head say, but this time it was entirely his own voice scolding him. "That is HERMIONE, for God's sake!" Harry felt a sudden urge to take a shower, but another loud yawn told him that it could wait until the morning. He shrugged off his thoughts and literally jumped into bed, certain he was more than happy to return to the relative emotional security of his dreams.
What Harry wasn't certain of was why his bed felt an awful lot like the floor of the tent, and why it had made a woody "thud!" as he landed on it.
"Hermione!" Harry yelled across the tent, adding a second bump on the head to his growing list of injuries. "I think we have a problem!"
To his surprise, when his eyes opened, Hermione was already hovering over him with a look of concern. "Yes, I realized when I tried to sleep that I had way too much space for one person." Both their gazes shifted to the enormous bed sitting in Hermione's room, the last piece of evidence of what had happened the day before. Hermione offered Harry a hand up, and together they attempted to tear their two beds apart. No spell either knew could undo the magic which bound the mattresses together. As a matter of fact, there was no seam or other mark which indicated that it had ever been two separate pieces in the first place. Even attempts to cut the bed down the middle with a kitchen knife were met with a flash of blue light, in which any progress was instantly undone as the bed reattached itself together.
Frustrated, Harry turned to Hermione with an imploring look on his face. She could only return a frown, as she too had exhausted her spell book. She jumped a bit when Harry's face lit up suddenly.
"No problem, I'll just use Ron's cot then," Harry said, proud of his idea but also feeling stupid for not thinking of it before. Hermione opened her mouth and held out a hand to stop her friend, but he was already at the flap which sealed Ron's room off from the rest of the tent. Harry reached for the zipper and forced it down to the bottom in one pull. When he looked up, he saw…
The wall of the tent.
Harry stared in disbelief. Surely, this was a joke. An evil, evil joke. He turned on his heels to face Hermione, his brow on the verge of pulsating in confused anger. She was still holding her hand out, but slowly brought it down. The dark glare he was shooting her at the moment told her that he wanted an explanation before he exploded.
"Harry, the thing about magical lodgings like these are that they are adaptive. Think of it as a sort of portable Room of Requirement, only it can only change the number of people it can fit within it. As soon as Ron left and we both left the tent, it must have changed to a two-person accommodation," explained Hermione, although it had done little to eliminate the gaping expression on Harry's face.
"Great…" Harry thought to himself begrudgingly. "So we're stuck with one bed for two people, then?"
"Yes," said Hermione, "probably until another person comes to live in here with us. But even I had no idea that bed-binding spell would be permanent. I didn't even know there was such a charm on them!"
Harry let out a faint, angry grunt, and threw his arms up in frustration. "Alright, well I'll sleep on the floor then! Problem solved," Harry said, making a motion to grab a pillow and a few blankets from the communal pile sitting on the bed.
Hermione groaned. She knew that she had dug her own grave. Had she not just said to Harry that she was perfectly alright with the idea of sharing a bed with him? It seemed like a perfectly sound statement, but then again she wholeheartedly believed that they would never have to face that situation again. To back out on her word would be to admit that she was still feeling odd about their encounter, so despite her apprehension, she did the only thing she could do.
She invited Harry Potter to sleep with her…again.
Harry shot her a horrified look, as if she had just asked him to jump off a bridge with her. Honestly, he would have preferred the latter at this moment. He had prayed that for once Hermione wouldn't be so Hermione-ish and caring, but alas she had not backed out on her word from before.
"Uhhh…naw Hermione, its ok," he stuttered. "I'm not going to intrude…"
"Oh Harry, don't be ridiculous. Like you said, it's an innocent gesture. Just like sharing a sofa in the common room," Hermione said, surprised at the sincerity of her voice despite not being all that confidant herself. Harry wished it was as easy as the analogy made it sound.
The ball was in his court now. To refuse once was being modest. To refuse any more than that would be an admittance that he was uncomfortable to sleep next to his best friend. He knew Hermione too well not to know that she was worried just as much as he was, but he would not show weakness in front of her. If he could handle fighting Voldemort, he could survive sharing a bed with Hermione.
"Well," Harry started, talking more to reassure himself than to respond to Hermione, "It's just sleeping anyway, nothing harmful."
"There you go," Hermione said, playfully. Despite her nerves, she was immensely enjoying playing on Harry's apprehensions. It was easy to see that he was still unsure of himself. "No need to worry, it's just me."
"Right, just you," Harry muttered, sitting on the side of the bed as Hermione shifted over to give him space. Before finishing his ascent, he quickly pulled out his wand and conjured a stack of pillows out of thin air, each landing on the bed to create a makeshift wall between them (although they would still be sleeping under the same set of blankets). With his back completely flat, Harry could just make out the top of Hermione's tuft of hair from over the barricade. He grinned triumphantly.
"Just in case," Harry said to her through the barrier.
"Good idea," replied Hermione gratefully. Any sort of preventative measures he could think of were more than alright with her. They both took a deep breath simultaneously, attempting to sigh away their nerves. Harry shifted uncomfortably, and Hermione started to count the stitches in the roof, not tired at all.
"Everything alright?" Hermione asked when Harry rose spontaneously, causing the sheets to slip a little off of her and under the pillows to Harry's side. He pulled out his wand, which caused Hermione to shoot up instinctively and brandish her wand, causing the pile of pillows to spill over Harry's lap.
"Just dimming the lights a bit, sorry," Harry said as he gave her a calming glance. He saw her tuck her wand back into her pocket as he toned down the fire a bit. "Much better."
"Yes, much," said Hermione, her heart still pounding from the scare he had given her, although the truth was that it was beating fast to begin with. "Good night then, Harry."
"Good night."
Harry fumbled his way back into his sleeping position, making sure not to cause the fluffy wall he had just rebuilt to topple over. He pulled the comforter tighter around him so that they would fully envelop his body, but he was met with a surprisingly equal force dragging the sheet in the opposite direction. Apparently, Hermione had had the same idea. Their following tug-of-war resulted in both of them being half-buried in white cushions.
"Sorry!"
"Sorry!"
Harry growled under his breath. This was getting ridiculous, but he was not going to have last night repeat itself. Not only was it for his own mental protection, it was for hers too. The last thing Harry wanted to do was to make Hermione feel like an accidental teddy bear, and he knew that if "it" happened again his whole argument of "it was a big set of coincidences!" would lose a good portion of its credibility. Not only did the pillow wall prevent him from unconsciously molesting Hermione in his sleep, it was, Harry determined, the last defense protecting him from ruining his entire friendship with her.
His scar suddenly erupted, causing him to wince at the unexpected pain. Thankfully, his face from the nose up was covered under a pillow, which prevented Hermione from noticing, which in turn prevented her from worrying about him. He was pretty sure she had enough on her mind at the moment, if his own was any indication. An image started to hazily fill his mind's eye, but he fought it back. "You wait in line, I have a nobler quest at the moment!" Harry shouted from within himself. Somehow, as if an obedient dog, the pain slowly dissipated at his command. Grudgingly, and perhaps with too much frustration-driven emphasis, he bounced up to a sitting position and leant over to fix the broken divider. As a result of trying to guide his "noble quest" far away from the path of failure and back towards the area of "likely not to work anyway", Harry was rewarded with…
A bump in the forehead.
"Oof…sorry!"
"Oww!" Harry cried, the spot where Hermione's head had collided with his own throbbing from the impact. For the second time tonight, he cursed that he and Hermione thought so much alike. Harry wished for a second that the girl in his bed was Ginny instead. At least she wouldn't have thought to help rebuild what she had helped to destroy. As a matter of fact, her solutions, advice, encouragement, and attempts to "help" him with anything all seemed to revolve around her snogging his brains out.
He shuddered, not sure whether it was at the realization that that description of what he once thought to be his one "true" relationship was frighteningly accurate, or the fact that by wishing Hermione was Ginny he had inadvertently reasoned with himself that he wanted her to snog the hell out of him.
"This bloody wall is staying up if it's the last thing I do!" Harry thought in a voice resembling a battle cry, his vigor rejuvenated with an intense desire to get the image of both Ginny and Hermione out of his head.
If the scene in front of him had been bodies instead of pillows, then calling it a "massacre" would definitely have been appropriate. The multiple layered fortress lay in ruins, some of the former pieces in relatively the same spots, many more piled where Harry and Hermione had once been laying down. He glanced at Hermione, who too was rubbing her temple and glaring a bit at him. A light "Pft!" took Harry's attention away from his best friend and on to the floor, where two pillows had just fallen over the end of the bed, landing just a bit across the direct middle on Hermione's side. Springing like a tiger on injured pray, Harry lunged forward and reached over their mattress, grabbing at the two fugitive building blocks.
"Got ya!" Harry bellowed as his hand disappeared from view.
"I got it!"
He was surprised that the perpetrators were actually quite small, soft, delicate, and warm, and they squeezed his hand back tightly as he in turn held them. He realized that they were not like the cushions being crushed by his body at the moment, but for some reason holding them felt unusually comfortable, almost as if a part of him wanted them to feel this way. They also, he realized after a moment, felt awfully bony, almost as if they were someone's…
"WAIT A MINUTE!" Harry screamed mentally, his blood boiling. A quick peak over the side of the bed confirmed his fear.
Hermione, being the brilliant, helpful ("irksome", Harry added, his eyebrow twitching) witch that she was, had gone overboard expecting to recover the pillows herself. Instead, they were now holding on tightly to one another's hands. Slowly their heads turned to face each other, eyes so open that they could see their frazzled brains working overtime in the backs of their head trying to contain the situation, neither daring to say a word..
They released their grip very slowly, as if in doing so the other would not notice it had happened. But it had, and Harry's lower lip was starting to tremble. He was almost on the verge of tears, very angry tears at that, and it was all her fault. Harry's glare penetrated through Hermione as frustration took over his mental process.
A sharp pain started once again in his scar, but this time he showed no physical reaction.
"Don't. Even. Try," Harry thought, his mind taking on the form of an angry Hungarian Horntail, which made his ordinarily excruciating vision stop and cower in fear.
"Harry, you're staring," Hermione muttered softly, blushing even more than she was when they had first emerged from the side of the bed. Harry was fuming. The wall wasn't the problem, Hermione was the problem. He was doing this for her, and she was repaying him by impeding his every action. She was the enemy in this wicked game they were playing, and he did not appreciate it one bit. Something within him had cracked, and his neck craned a bit to the side as a vein in his neck started to vibrate.
Harry's mind went back to something Moody had told him many years ago: "If you can't reason with your foe by civil means…"
He finished the sentence in a whisper: "…use force."
"What do you mean use…" Hermione did not a chance to finish her question. As if possessed, his eyes glowing with a savage determination, he bridged the small gap in between them and tackled her backwards onto the bed, their bodies making the magical springs squeak at the sudden rush of force. "Harry, what are you doing?" she asked, too shocked to feel any other emotion. He had pinned each of her hands down with one of his, holding her by the wrists so that they touched behind her head. She struggled to free herself from her crazed friend, but he brought his chest gently down on hers to prevent her from moving, hands still tight around her wrists. Harry brought his face very close to Hermione's, so close that their noses were touching.
Staring into her dark brown eyes, he said slowly and monotonously, "I can handle this Hermione, as much as I appreciate your," he paused to put a snide emphasis on the next word, "help. So you stay put while I reconstruct the wall and we can go to sleep in peace, ok?"
She nodded her head slightly, not knowing what else to do. Her body was shaking slightly out of fear, and her heart was racing, beating against Harry's as he continued to pin her down. His deep breaths brushed lightly against her lips and her pulse almost doubled. Harry glared down at Hermione, and he felt for the first time that he had, perhaps, come on just a bit too strong and sudden. It was obvious that he had scared her half to death, and he began to question whether he had reacted appropriately to the situation.
Under the impression that it was better to get the job done before he had another angry outburst, he gently pushed himself off of her, still holding down her wrists to make sure she stayed in place. He could feel her hands shaking as he held them, and, in an attempt to both calm her down and offer a silent apology, Harry did something that he had never done before.
He kissed Hermione on the forehead.
"Now you stay still," he said, his tone much softer this time around. His body disappeared out of Hermione's field of view as he jumped off the bed to pick up the pillows that had flown off during his pounce. Dumbfounded by fear and flustered by the residual tingling in the spot where Harry's lips had met her scalp, Hermione obeyed his order. She did not even move a muscle as he placed the pillows back into their original position, or even when the sheets around her pulled slightly towards his direction as he prepped himself for sleep. She was completely numb.
If her thoughts had been in the moment, she might have heard Harry wish her good night. But it wasn't until much later, when his constant heavy breathing filled the tent, that she was capable of grasping what had just happened to her. In the span of less than a minute, Harry Potter had pinned her down, made her more frightened that she had ever been in her life, and then immediately proceeded to drain her of all her mental capabilities.
Hermione brought her hand up to brush the spot where he had kissed her. If this is what happened every time that she had kissed him there, she was much more vicious than she had ever realized. Wrapping the blanket tighter around herself, she closed her eyes in deep thought. She had thought things would never get more unexplainably awkward after the night before, but this was giving it one hell of a run for its money.