The Effects of Gamma Rays on Two Terrifically Trapped Gryffi

LadyTuesday

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 15/10/2007
Last Updated: 15/10/2007
Status: completed

From the "Stuck where for the weekend?" Challenge on Portkey.org ... Our two favorite Gryffies are cleaning up after a hard day of Herbology when click! the door shuts behind them. And locks. What do they do until someone finds them?

Chapters

1. The Greenhouse Effect

2. Global Warming

3. The Gradual Melting of the Icecaps

4. Monsoon Season

1. The Greenhouse Effect

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters, places or situations that I bend to my will in this fluffy excuse for a plot.

A/N - Just a cute little fluffy bit that will probably top out at 3-4 chapters. Not much plot involved or thought required, just a cute response to the VERY cute "Stuck where for the weekend?" Challenge. I actually wrote this quite a while ago, I just never posted it here. Which is odd, cuz this is where I got the challenge, but I posted it everywhere but here. Hope you like.

~~ ** Lady Tuesday ** ~~

Part One: The Greenhouse Effect

Hermione Granger smiled happily as she removed her dragon hide gloves. `Done at last,' she thought, relieved. Now that her Herbology final was out of the way, classes were over for another year and she could start on her seventh year's books as soon as they got home for the summer. All around her, people were starting to finish their practical exams as well. She was absent mindedly brushing the dirt off the front of her robes as Ron and Harry both walked to the front of the greenhouse to turn in their final term projects. The class had been raising belladonna since Spring Recess and their final exam was to harvest the essence for their potions kits without damaging the leaves or sustaining any injuries from the poisonous plant.

Hermione knew she had done exceedingly well, and as such had even had the time to look over Ron's shoulder to make sure that neither he nor Harry would be falling ill during dinner. She smirked. If she didn't watch those two …

“Let's go,” Ron grumbled as Hermione fastidiously cleaned her robes and packed away her class tools. “I'm starving.”

Harry grinned and stashed his tools away nearly as quickly as Ron. “Come on, Hermione, let's go!” he urged happily. “We're done for the year, let's go celebrate!”

Hermione grinned in spite of herself. “All right, all right,” she said, and hurried her cleaning along faster than she normally would have.

She had to practically jog to catch up with the boys who, after the long year, had grown several inches taller than her. Just as she had rounded the front table and was nearly out the front door, Hermione felt a sharp tug as the corner of her robes caught Professor Sprout's desk, and she went sprawling to the rough, earthen floor. With a great sigh of dismay, she watched as her bag hit the floor, split, and sent her belongings scattering in every direction.

Hermione spat a few choice words as she gathered her things and stuffed them, angrily, into her bag. She looked up quickly to notice that Harry had grabbed Ron and started walking back towards the greenhouse when he noticed her fall.

“Hermione,” he called, “do you need help?”

She grumbled again, but called back, “No, no, I've got it.”

Harry stopped to wait for her. Ron called out, “Come on, Hermione, what's taking so long? Aren't you hungry?”

“Yes,” she snapped loudly, “but I'd much rather make sure I had all my things, thank you very much!” She leapt to her feet, clutching her bag angrily, and followed them out the door. No sooner had she gotten over the doorsill then she realized a conspicuous absence of something around her wrist.

“Oh, no!” she cried.

“What?” Harry asked, slowing his pace to match hers.

“My bracelet came off,” she answered, “the one you …er … gave me for Christmas this year.”

Harry blushed. It had taken him quite a while to pick it out, as he wanted to be sure he got her something she would like.

“Get it tomorrow,” Ron offered, though his mind was clearly on his stomach's grumbling.

“Ron, classes are over, the feast is Sunday. I won't be back in the greenhouses until next term.” Hermione scowled. Without another hesitation, she turned back towards the door she had just left and called over her shoulder, “Go on and go to dinner you two,” she told Harry and Ron, “I don't know where I dropped it, so this might take a bit.”

The instant Hermione got in the back door of the greenhouse, she dropped to her knees to look for the thin braid of silver with its tiny star and moon charms. As she scuffled along the floor on all fours, she muttered more choice words regarding the fact that neither Ron nor Harry had cared to even wait for her.

Just as she thought these words, she noticed a pair of feet just to the side of the table she was currently searching under. Only when Hermione heard Harry's voice say, “Well, isn't that attractive?” did she realize that her backside was thrust so far in the air due to her bent position that this was most likely all Harry could see of her. She tried to stand up so quickly that she rapped her head smartly on the underside of the table that she saw stars.

When Hermione swore violently, Harry knelt down beside her and put a hand gently on the back of her head where her hands were clasped. “Are you all right?” he asked quickly.

Hermione nodded her head but, much to her shame, she couldn't control the tears that were springing to her eyes. She had hit her head quite sharply and could already feel a headache hammering in her temples.

“Oh, dear … oh,” Harry said quietly and sat next to her. “Let me have a look.”

He gently pried her fingers apart and moved her thick curls to have a look at where she had struck her head. There was a small red bruise forming, but no blood. Harry settled himself on the floor beside her and dragged over his bag, removing a small vial of deep purple liquid.

“Here, have a swallow,” he said gently, and then, in response to her skeptical look, “It's headache potion. I took to carrying some after Voldemort returned.”

Hermione nodded and downed the vial of liquid, pulling a rather strained face as she did. “Ugh,” she muttered, “that stuff is awful.”

Harry grinned and nodded. “Feel better?” he asked gently.

Hermione waited a beat as the throbbing pain receded and then nodded. She smiled up into his face but couldn't seem to form words. He was so close and his hand was still touching hers where he had taken the vial back. Hermione felt her face flush as they gazed at each other, but she couldn't seem to move or speak. A soft click and a few light whooshing noises brought them back to their senses quite visibly.

“Ah,” Harry said, clearing his throat, “where did you say you think you dropped the bracelet?”

Hermione pointed vaguely to the corner where her bag had split as she was still somewhat unable to form words. They both crawled over the earthen floor, now unaware of the muddy tracks it was making on the knees of their robes, as they searched for the glint of silver among the twigs and leaves. When neither had come across anything after several minutes of searching, Hermione stood up and stretched her back.

“Where in the world could that have gone?” she wondered aloud. And then something struck her. They were alone. “Harry, wasn't Professor Sprout in here just a moment ago?”

“Mhmmm,” Harry answered vaguely as he rose to his knees and began leafing through the plants on the nearest table.

“Well, she's not anymore,” Hermione said grimly.

“Ah,” Harry said, rising and brushing off the lower half of his robes. “I suppose we should probably go …”

Hermione's shoulders fell and she unconsciously clasped a hand around her wrist. She really hated the idea of leaving the bracelet; she adored it so.

“You could ask Professor Sprout at the Leaving Feast to look for it over the summer?” Harry offered helpfully.

Hermione nodded and allowed Harry to pick up her bag for her and lead her to the door. She was looking back at the greenhouse, hoping for a lucky glint of silver on her last look, when she plowed straight into Harry's stationary back. He had stopped at the door.

“Harry, what's the matter?” Hermione asked, righting herself and straightening his robes.

His face was grim and puzzled as he looked over his shoulder. “Does Professor Sprout usually lock the greenhouse doors?”

“Well, this one, she does,” Hermione began without processing what he was insinuating. “After the Venomous Tentacula bit someone last year when they were playing a prank, she's taken to … keeping them … locked …” she finished slowly. “Are you saying we're locked in?”

Harry grumbled but drew his wand. “Can't be,” he said firmly, “that would be ridiculous.”

But as Hermione waited and waited, Harry performed every unlocking charm he knew (and then a few that she muttered to him over his shoulder). But nothing. Hermione had to resist the urge to push him out of the way and try it herself. After watching him try the door, she rushed to the opposite door of the greenhouse and tried that. Locked. And she scrolled through every unlocking charm she knew as well. Nothing

“Well,” Harry said, seating himself on the front desk and grinning weakly at her. “What are you doing for the next … few days or so?”

Hermione scowled and walked back across the greenhouse. She plunked down next to Harry, kicking her heels repeatedly into the front of the desk. “Apparently I'm spending them with you, locked in this greenhouse.”

“Excellent,” said Harry with a sardonic smile, “That's what I'm doing as well.”

*****

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2. Global Warming

Chapter Two: Global Warming

“It's bloody hot in here.”

“Oh, it's going to get even worse,” Hermione said with a defeated tone in her voice.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

They were lying side by side on the floor underneath one of the tables, trying to stay out of the sun that was throwing its last rays determinedly through the high ceilings of the greenhouse. Hermione sighed.

“Harry, it's just before sunset. Let's assume that no one finds us until tomorrow. Can you imagine how hot it's going to be in here around, oh, one o'clock in mid-June?”

Harry swore out loud. “Well,” he said glumly, “that ought to be pleasant.”

“It'll be even worse if we don't find something to do until then. I'm bored silly.”

Harry turned on his side and smirked at her. “You have your bag, do some homework.”

Hermione turned to face him and, at the smug grin on his face, smirked back and heaved at his shoulder. He rolled a few feet, chuckling deeply, before turning back with a determined smile on his face and a hand carefully stashed behind his back. Just as she had leaned over to see what he was up to, she felt the solid whump of a handful of dirt as it landed against her chest. She looked thoroughly scandalized, but couldn't contain her grin.

“Oh, is that the way it is?!” she chimed, and dashed away to take cover on the other side of the table, poking her head up only to fire the handfuls of soil that she packed in her fist from the plants around her.

The two of them bobbed and weaved around plants, diving and sprinting in their war to muddy each other's robes. Their laughter echoed around the tinkling walls of glass, occasionally followed by the stretch, shift or groan of the vast array of magical plants lining the ceiling and littering the walls and tables.

Then, all of a sudden, the greenhouse grew too silent. Hermione was crouched and creeping around the corner of a table, stalking Harry for a silent attack, two thick handfuls of dragon dung fertilizer clutched behind her back. She paused at the corner of a table, poised to leap out at him, when she heard a light snap behind her. She turned quickly, only to find herself sprawled flat against the floor on her back.

“AMBUSH!” Harry had cried as he leapt at her from behind. He pinned her to the floor, his hands trapping her wrists, his knees straddling and pinning her hips to the floor. He crouched over her triumphantly. She smirked for only a moment before raising one of her legs between his, and in his moment of shock, she rolled against him, planting his back firmly against the floor and allowing her to sit astraddle his waist and pin his hands as he had hers.

It was then that realization struck Hermione. She was sitting astride his waist, hands at his wrists, and he certainly wasn't fighting. The reality of the situation seemed as though it hadn't quite hit him. Yet.

Without allowing the possible consequences of the situation sink in, she moved toward him … and smashed the handfuls of dragon dung into his face.

He sat up roughly, pushing her onto the floor and swore loudly. For a moment, she thought he would be angry, but as he muttered, “Scourgify!” and his face was wiped clean, she heard laughter in his voice.

“Touché,” he responded and chuckled.

With a triumphant grin and an uncomfortable laugh, Hermione smirked back at him. “Gotcha,” she said.

“So it would seem,” Harry returned. Suddenly, she felt Harry's eyes roving over her body. A part of her wanted desperately to cover, to hide from this scrutiny, but as she felt it would be unfriendly, she merely averted her eyes and blushed. Her heart started pounding, however, when she saw him raise a hand to her chin and turn her face back to his.

Gently - ever so gently - he used the flat of his thumb to wipe away a smear of dirt from her cheek. The pair blushed heavily as they gazed at each other, Harry raising his wand and muttering, “Scourgify!” as he pointed at her robes.

“What are we going to do, Harry?” Hermione asked, a definite squeak of panic inching into her voice. “I mean, what if no one finds us? What if no one misses us for days and then they all leave for the summer and don't remember to get us out and we're stuck in here and—”

Harry raised a hand to stem the insistent flow of worry. “Hermione,” he said patiently, “you're Head Girl, and I'm … me. Someone will notice we're missing. We won't be in here forever. We've just got to wait until someone notices we're gone, that's all. Ron will probably remember right after dinner and then come down and get us. It's fine.”

Harry's voice was calm and steady, but Hermione could see that there were worry lines crowding his eyes as well. The sun had gone down now and she knew that it must be well after dinner. Ron had forgotten them. And who knew when the next person would realize their absence …

An indeterminate amount of time went by as Harry and Hermione tried to occupy themselves in uneasy silence. Harry could see the panic on Hermione's face, though she tried to keep it smooth as she arranged and rearranged her schoolbooks within her bag.

The sky was losing its tinge of pink and melting into a deep royal blue. Hermione tried to stifle the rumbling in her stomach as they sat, quietly assuring themselves that someone would find them before long. By the time stars were winking into view, Hermione decided that it was time to forage for something to eat.

“There must be something in here that's edible,” she mumbled as she wandered through the tables, scanning each plant. After a minute or two of stoically refusing to admit defeat, Harry sighed, stretched and then got up to help her.

He rummaged in his bag for a moment, thinking he may have stashed a cookie or two from lunch, he went to help Hermione scour the greenhouse for possible fruits and vegetables.

“Hey, Hermione!” Harry called across the greenhouse after a few minutes. “This section of plants says, `Cafeteria supplies.'”

Hermione looked up from the plant she had been studying - something she had thought was cabbage until it nearly took her hand off - and moved over to where Harry was bending. Harry pointed to a few plants that looked vaguely familiar.

“Hmm,” Hermione muttered, “garlic … no, that won't due … um … sugar cane, that's not particularly helpful … caraway, that's used in cooking but I wouldn't—”

“That's a fruit, you know, caraway,” Harry said, plucking one off the vine, “that should do.”

Harry had already popped one of the five-pointed fruits in his mouth before Hermione knew what he was doing.

“Oh no, Harry you shouldn't— !”

But it was too late; he was already chewing and swallowing. Harry looked at Hermione quizzically as she started to back away carefully, averting her eyes.

“What's the matter?” Harry asked, puzzled. “It's not poisonous or anything, I know that. Aunt Petunia used it all the time.”

Hermione was behaving most peculiarly, in Harry's opinion. She had started to pull her robes around her in a rather unnecessary fashion. “No,” she began, “no it's not poison. But … that is to say … it's … it's used in …”

“Spit it out, Hermione,” Harry said as he contemplated taking another of the fruits.

“It's a rather potent … erm… that is, it's used in … fertility potions.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “So? Lots of things are used in fertility potions. Besides, it doesn't do anything to Muggles, and they use caraway seeds in cooking all the time.”

“Well, yes but,” Hermione stammered, backing away a little further, “but that's after it's been harvested and treated. When it's … you know, fresh … it's a rather powerful,” Hermione stopped to clear her throat and then mumbled the word, “aphrodisiac.”

Harry had been ready with a scoff on his lips, but before it left him, he began to see that Hermione was not the cleverest witch of their age for nothing. Harry suddenly felt very warm and shaky. With a weak smile, he turned and strode to the other end of the greenhouse before he could make a fool of himself. Hermione blushed crimson and then stationed herself under the front desk with a book, hoping that reading something for the 47th time might help put her to sleep.

*****

A few hours later, Hermione woke on the cold and slightly damp floor of the greenhouse and gasped. Looking up at the sky, she saw nothing but a vast blanket of glittering stars. She couldn't resist. Hermione rose to her feet and twirled slowly, taking in the wonder of the unencumbered night sky. After a moment of turning her grinning face up to the heavens, she realized she was being watched.

In a dark corner of the greenhouse, Harry was leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching her light spin. His green eyes were lamp-like in the dark, and she felt as if she were being undressed, so intimate was his gaze. After a rather uncomfortable moment of silence, Hermione returned to the floor and curled up for sleep.

She lay for what seemed liked at least an hour, but couldn't regain her peaceful slumber. Her muscles ached from the unforgiving stone and the dirt covering the floor seemed to have taken on an artic chill.

“It's so cold,” she whimpered to herself, drawing her robes around her.

Hermione jumped when Harry's voice came to her, only feet away. When had he moved?

“It's because the floor is flagstone and we're near the lake,” he said gently. “And because it's two o'clock in the morning.”

When she didn't answer, he continued softly, “Come here, lay by me and I'll keep you warm.”

She looked up into his face, dappled with the soft light of the moon, now hanging heavy over their heads. “Erm, you know, Harry, that might not be the best—”

He sighed heavily, interrupting her. “It's fine Hermione,” he said quietly. “It'll be fine.”

“Has it … are you still …?”

“No, it hasn't worn off yet,” he answered to her unfinished question. “It's all right, it doesn't matter.”

“I don't know…”

Harry grumbled low in his throat. “I'm not going to try anything, Hermione,” he said irritably.

Because she could see, in his face, that he wouldn't, Hermione scooted the few feet between them and lay down next to Harry, somewhat awkwardly. With barely a catch of his breath, Harry turned her gently so that her back was against his stomach, and lay behind her. She jumped just a tad when she saw him dress down to just his school pants and shirt sleeves, but instinctively snuggled closer when, under the drape of Harry's school robes, he lay an arm gently across her side and around her stomach. Under the stars, Hermione laid her head back against Harry's chest and slipped into slumber.

*****

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3. The Gradual Melting of the Icecaps

A/N - Tee hee hee ... The third installment of this cute little ditty. Enjoy

Part Three: The Gradual Melting of the Icecaps

Hermione awoke alone, thoroughly surprised that her eyes were still shrouded in darkness. She felt as if she had slept for eons, but still she could perceive no light. In fact, she thought with an odd sense of wariness, I can't see anything at all. After a moment of intense panic at the idea of being rendered suddenly and inexplicably blind, Hermione noticed that she could, indeed, see something, and she promptly groaned at her own stupidity. With a sigh, she read the small tag bearing the legend, “Madam Malkin's - Hogwarts Collection - Mr. H. J. Potter”, and giggled lightly to herself. Harry had tossed his robes over her head. Casting them aside, Hermione sat up quickly and instantly regretted doing so. “Unnnhhhh,” she groaned as she squinted against the nearly blinding light. Hermione stretched fitfully, her muscles protesting after a night of sleeping on the rough stones.

“Well,” Harry called happily from across the room, “and a great `Good morning' to you, too.

She scowled at him briefly, scratching her head and yanking her clothing back into the proper places; but she quickly lost her bad mood as she saw that he was holding something out to her. A few rather large looking eggs were sizzling quite fragrantly on top of … what appeared to be … one of her notebooks. With a raised eyebrow, she accepted a notebook-plate of eggs and pencil that Harry quickly transfigured into a fork, and seated herself on the corner of Professor Sprout's desk.

Harry didn't bother to wait for Hermione to word her unasked question. “An experiment of Professor Sprout's that I discovered last night during a period of … erm … insomnia,” he explained as he used his wand to levitate and flip eggs he was cooking on another notebook over a fire he had started on the stone floor. “Something about trying to cross-breed so that plants can produce eggs with … viable … something. I don't remember. In any case, it saved our bottoms for breakfast.”

Hermione smiled briefly but scowled again as she realized that he was using her homework planner as a frying pan.

“Don't worry,” he said, raising his hands in a show of no harm, “I placed an Imperturbable charm around the book. It won't be damaged; I've just made it so that it conducts the heat.”

To his surprise, Hermione looked quite impressed. “I didn't know that you could do those sorts of charms,” she said around a mouthful of egg. “Some of them are quite advanced. Where did you learn it?”

Harry merely smiled benevolently and said nothing.

“Well, aren't you mysterious this morning,” she said and continued munching. After she muttered a quick “Scourgify!” to clean her notebook, Hermione straightened up and began to wander around the greenhouse in search of some occupation to keep them busy until someone discovered them.

Harry was busily cleaning up after their breakfast, and she barely noticed him come up behind her as she scanned the greenhouse. She squeaked in fright as he reached out to touch her arm and slapped him away.

“Sorry,” she muttered quickly, you startled me.

“Apparently,” he finished.

With a flush on her cheeks, she now noticed that the greenhouse indeed was quite warm. “What time is it?”

“Twelve-thirty. Give it another half hour and its going to be unbearable in here,” Harry said with a grimace

It didn't take even the fifteen minutes worth of walking around the perimeter that she used to occupy her to realize he was most unfortunately correct. Hermione was fanning herself with the former-frying-pan notebook as she plunked down next to Harry, who had long since stripped off his sweater and tie, staked out a spot of shade, and started drawing random pictures in the dirt. Hermione was scowling, fanning herself, and muttering about the heat when Harry finally looked up and snapped at her.

“Oh will you stop belly-aching?” he snapped. “Take something off if you're too hot

Hermione looked at Harry doubtfully but made no move to comply

“Oh, good grief, Hermione,” he spat, “your virtue is in no danger, the charm wore off during the night

“I wasn't thinking about that,” she retorted angrily, but she had been. She waited a few minutes - lest he think she was indeed worried - and then stripped off her school robes. She was quite surprised, however, when - after a bout of more mumbling about her heavy locks - Harry sat up abruptly and yanked her tie from around her neck. Too puzzled to put up a fight, Hermione watched quizzically as he threw the tie around the back of her neck and used it to tie her hair up off of her shoulders.

“Honestly, you are the most witless genius, sometimes,” he snapped.

Stung, Hermione found herself sniffling back tears. “I am not witless,” she mumbled, trying not to sound hurt.

For a moment, Harry didn't respond and then he said, “I'm sorry.” After another moment, he added, with more conviction, “I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm just … it's so damn hot.”

Hermione nodded and sighed. She tugged irritably at the neck of her sweater, refusing to take off anymore than she already had. It wasn't so much the worry from Harry, now, as the principle of the thing. She kicked off her shoes and socks, hoping this might make her feel at least a little better, and wriggled her toes in the cool mulch on the floor. Distracted for a minute or two, Hermione looked up and gasped in shock, bringing a hand up to shield her eyes. “Harry!” she cried out, scandalized.

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4. Monsoon Season

A/N - Here it is, the fourth and final installment! Hope you enjoyed it!

Part Four: Monsoon Season

Harry finished stripping off his dress shirt and plunked back down. “Well, I'm hot and I refuse to sit here stifling any longer. Besides, it's not as if you're seeing something you shouldn't be. You have a father, I'm sure you've seen him without a shirt on.”

“Yes, but …” she stammered, still shielding her eyes. “But … Oh, all right fine.” Hermione lowered her hand, but still tried to look away from Harry's direction. The sweat was practically pouring down her back now, trickling in between her breasts. She was going to start panting in a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry look up to the thermometer on the wall above their heads.

“Thirty-one degrees, Hermione,” Harry intoned, his voice thick with smugness. “Sure you don't want to lose that sweater?”

“No,” she huffed, but after a moment she tugged it over her head. She was only too aware that the undergarments she had chosen yesterday were not the most modest things she owned. She crossed her arms over her chest. As Harry smirked back at her, she snapped back with a loud, “Oh, shut it.”

He laughed again, but said nothing. Hermione rose to her feet and began pacing the building again, in determined search of something to do. In lieu of anything else, she started reciting charms and spell to herself, practicing the wand movements as she walked. But the pacing of the room was doing nothing to aid her in her quest to keep cool. Every now and then she swore under her breath and was rewarded with a chuckle from Harry.

After an hour, the temperature had risen another 7 degrees. She was certain that, had she tried, Harry could now have fried those eggs on her face, so high was her body temperature.

“All right,” she heard Harry roughly growl, “That's it. I can't stand it.”

Hermione instinctively looked over to Harry and instantly regretted it. She shrieked in horror, spinning away as she had caught a glimpse of Harry removing his black school pants. “Harry!” she called, an echo of her earlier horror, only gaining an octave in the pitch of her voice

“Oh, I'm wearing boxer shorts,” he said irritably. “And it's not as if it isn't boiling in here, Hermione. I'm decently covered and it' wretchedly hot. You'd probably stand to benefit in your mood if you took a leaf out of my book.”

Forgetting her scandalization, she spun back to him and glared, her eyes boring holes into his. “Absolutely not! Besides, all I've got on is my blouse and skirt!”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “I won't look at you.”

Hermione stared at him as if he'd grown wings and flown around the room like Buckbeak. “You certainly can't be seriously suggesting that I take off my top…”

Harry shrugged again. “It'll make you more comfortable, I guarantee it.”

“It's indecent,” she shrieked shrilly.

“Oh fuck all, Hermione,” he howled back, his voice gaining nearly the same loudness and pitch as hers. “You're such a prude! You won't even do something that will make you feel better! You'd rather stand there and whine about it than give yourself some relief!”

“I am not a prude!” she hollered back. They were standing toe-to-toe now, bellowing in each other's faces and glaring hotly enough to melt steel.

“Prove it!” Harry yelled.

With a determined scowl, Hermione shouted back, “Fine!” and heaved at the buttons of her blouse. In one firm yank, they came free and, after some very angry tugging, she heaved her shirt into the corner of the greenhouse. After a moment of glowering at each other fiercely, Hermione saw Harry's eyes begin to clear of their angry glaze. As they did, he took a large deliberate step away from her. It was a moment before her panting, livid breaths righted themselves and she realized just what they were doing with a deep flush of her cheeks. Curling her arms about her chest, she tried to shield herself as best she could and took a step backwards away from Harry as well. She seated herself on the floor across from the desk against which Harry now leaned. Hermione drew her knees up close to her chest, trying to block as much of the expanse of her stomach and now-visible skimpy white cotton bra as possible. She must certainly be showing an absolutely indecent amount of skin, not to mention that the tight, clingy brassiere left little to the imagination. She hugged her knees closer.

Harry was leaning against the desk now, his head staring up at the roof of the building; no doubt he was avoiding glancing at her and trying to be as delicate as possible. She watched his eyelids flutter shut.

“I'm sorry I called you a prude,” he muttered at long last.

“S'all right,” she mumbled grudgingly.

“But I bet you—”

“Can it, Harry,” she bit back irritably. “I have no desire to hear how right you are.”

He looked down at her then, a smirk on his face, and cocked his head to one side. “Then you don't want to hear, I suppose, that I've just discovered that there's an open window on that wall of the greenhouse over there?”

Forgetting her modesty, Hermione leapt to her feet and swung about in the direction Harry was pointing. There was indeed an open window on the flat wall of the greenhouse just across from them. But—

“It's so high up,” Hermione sighed resignedly. “We'll never reach it.”

“We could if you sit on my shoulders,” Harry mumbled, clearly thinking out loud.

“I dunno,” Hermione mumbled. She was still hanging on to her anger at his insults and smugness, but she desperately wanted to get out of this greenhouse as fast as possible. “All right, we'll try it. But what if we can reach and I leap through? What about our things? And how will you get out?”

Harry looked around for a moment. “I'll drag over that table and climb up. You can help me out.”

Hermione nodded determinedly and the two set about moving towards the open window. It was quite a job, clambering onto Harry's back and, much to her dismay, she found that simply sitting on his shoulders would not be high enough. She would have to stand. “Are you certain you can hold me?” she asked hesitantly. “What if I hurt you?”

“Hermione, you're barefoot and you're not that heavy that I can't stand it for a few minutes.”

Resignedly, Hermione used the wall as a steadying tool and rose to her feet, tottering uncertainly. Harry had turned strangely so that he was facing away from the wall and she was facing towards it, and as such, kept asking her about the positioning of where they were standing.

“Are you near it yet? Do I need to move more?” Harry was rummaging around uncertainly and Hermione felt her balance waning.

“Stay still for heaven's sake and let me see if I can reach?” she snapped.

In a moment of sheer mischievousness, Harry looked upwards and chimed, “Cute knickers you've got there, Miss Smarty Pants.”

Hermione barely thought about what she was doing when she shrieked in horror and wrenched her hands quickly away from the sill to clap them about her and clamp her skirt to her legs. The sudden shift in weight sent Harry wobbling and at last, as he could not regain his balance, he went sprawling to the ground. Hermione wildly grasped at the first thing that came to her hands on the wall so as to gain a little steadiness, but as the first thing under her fingers was the nozzle for the sprinkler system, it afforded little stability and came lose in her hand, rewarding her with a face full of warm water. In shock, she threw up her hands to shield her face and ended up tumbling onto the floor in a heap.

She heard a deep groan from beneath her and she realized that she had been sprawled directly onto Harry, who was laying still, flat on his back. She struggled for a moment, wiggling over him as she tried to right herself. Harry was still cringing and groaning from the unpleasant impact with the floor and clapped his hands onto both of her thighs.

“Stop wriggling, will you? It's hurting me,” he said quickly.

Hermione lie still and blushed as she realized how embarrassing this whole affair was turning out to be. She quickly pushed up into a sitting position over his waist. “Are you all right?” she asked quickly. When she got no response, merely his staring up at her, she asked again, “Harry, are you all right?”

With a strange glaze to his face, Hermione watched him bring a hand up and trail it across her throat. She watched him, almost as if it were not her body he was touching, as he ran a hand through one of her long curls, now escaping from the tie and dripping a wet trail across her chest. Her cheeks burned as his hand moved down to gingerly touch the white bra, now nearly transparent from the water.

“Ah …erm,” she stammered incoherently.

Harry raised his hand to her and pressed a finger across her lips. Without even stopping to question what she was doing, as she always did, Hermione shifted positions so that she was more comfortably straddling Harry's waist and bent down to him. With only a breath's hesitation, she pressed her lips against his.

Harry responded in kind by brushing his tongue over her lower lip, asking entrance and receiving it. Her breath caught in her chest as his arms curled around her back, pressing her closer. She could feel the warmth of his stomach rising and falling between her legs, his breath quickening as she deepened the kiss. After a moment, he wrenched his lips away and kissed the sweet skin along the curve of her jaw.

“Harry,” she murmured into his hair. “Harry …”

“Harry!” came a surprised voice from over her shoulder.

“Hermione!” came another voice, distinctly female.

Hermione rocketed away from Harry as fast as she possibly could and clutched the nearest thing - one of the large leaves of a potted plant - across her chest. Her cheeks were abloom with color as Neville and Ginny stared back, nonplussed, from the doorway, a key dangling from Neville's unclenched fist.

“What in the—?” Ginny got out before Hermione heard herself start to stammer.

“Door … locked … we … locked … window …” She was gibbering now, pointing vaguely to each location of the greenhouse as she talked about it.

“You know,” Neville said with a growing smirk, “I don't think I want to know actually.”

Hermione fell silent quickly, and Harry just smirked.

“How long have—” Ginny began, dropping the hold that Hermione suddenly noticed she had on Neville's other hand, “Have you been in here since yesterday?”

The two nodded.

“Well, we tried to get out the window, you see,” Hermione explained, “but we weren't tall enough to reach…”

Neville started to giggle. “Why didn't you just use a levitation charm?”

Hermione looked at Harry, aghast. Harry slapped his forehead.

“Some pair of magical geniuses you are,” Ginny laughed.

*****

A few minutes later, when Neville and Ginny had turned their backs to discretely allow them to untangle and redress, Hermione looked to Harry and sighed. “You know,” she spoke sadly, “I never did find my bracelet.”

“You were locked in here all that time for a bracelet?” Ginny asked.

“Well, you see,” Hermione began, blushing, “Harry gave it to me for Christmas and … well it is rather special and …”

Ginny smiled serenely as both Harry and Hermione blushed, and then she gently reached for Neville's hand again, which he gave (but not without blushing of his own). Harry and Hermione followed the two out of the greenhouse, Hermione's bag over Harry's shoulder. When he was sure the other two weren't looking, Harry laced a hand around Hermione's waist and stuffed it companionably in the outside pocket of her robes. After a moment of a staring at his furrowed brow, Hermione couldn't figure out why Harry was now rummaging in her pocket.

“Hermione?”

“What?” she asked.

“Your bracelet …?”

“What?” she said, more insistent.

“It was in your pocket the whole time,” Harry finished.

“WHAT?!”

Neville and Ginny jumped as they walked a few feet ahead, Hermione's hollered words echoing off the trees of the Forbidden Forest, followed shortly by Harry's laughter.

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