In Fair Hogwarts by the_real_mrs_potter

Rating: R
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 23/08/2008
Last Updated: 10/07/2009
Status: Paused

Gryffindor and Slytherin have been feuding since Hogwarts was first established almost a
thousand years ago. So when two members of their house are paired up as partners for a History of
Magic project, the houses go into an outrage. But the teachers choice is final. Harry Potter and
Hermione Granger have to work together, ignore their houses feuds for the sake of their final
grades, build some sort of friendship, and...fall in love? A Romeo and Juliet story.




1. Prelude
----------



Chapter One -

It is common knowledge between you and me that the houses of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar
Slytherin have been feuding since the creation of Hogwarts over a thousand years ago. Since the
beginning of the school, they were known to have disagreements and duels resulting from their
different perspectives on Muggle discrimination and admission requirements for their school.

This feud was passed on generation after generation, effecting the students and staff whom
occupied Hogwarts whether they chose it or not. Prejudice was not uncommon no matter how different
the circumstances. As soon as a person caught wind of the feud they were forced to take a side.
Unfortunately for the members of Slytherin house, most chose Gryffindor's.

On and on this feud went, through the centuries and millenniums alike. That is, until the year
of 1997, when two star-crossed teenagers crossed paths and intertwined their fates. This is where
our story begins.

This is the story of how Hermione Jane Granger and Harry James Potter fell in love.

~*~

`Two house holds, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life;'

“What a bunch of rubbish.” Ginny mumbled as she set the playbook down, “Why does Burbage make us
read this trash. It already gave away the whole bleeding plotline! They meet . . . they fall in
love . . . they die. End of story, begin 6 foot long essay.”

Hermione looked up from her parchment and smiled, “That's the whole point.”

“Do explain oh Goddess of Wit and Knowledge.” Ginny sarcastically remarked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and set down her quill, “That's what Shakespeare wants to portray .
. . the art of foreshadowing. By telling the reader or observer what's going to happen in such
an elegant and precise way, he draws the reader in with questions like `Who exactly are these
people and why did they have to kill themselves to be together?' so they keep on paying
attention to the story and get their answers.”

Ginny furrowed her brow, “What sane person could figure that out?”

“Any person with half of a brain cell.” Hermione replied. She got back to her essay and just as
her quill was about to touch the parchment, Ginny spoke.

“I still think its rubbish.”

Hermione looked up again, “Well I think it's romantic, overcoming all of those obstacles all
for the sake of love.” She sighed.

“Don't go all mushy-gushy on me Herms.”

Hermione pulled out of her revere with a look of annoyance on her face, “How many times have I
told you not to call me that?”

“Enough for me to realize how much it annoys you and brings a smile to my face,” Ginny said, “Do
you really want this to be ruined?” She made a motion with her hand that accentuated her face.

“If it would make you stop calling me Herms, then yes.”

“Ouch. Hurtful coming from a-”

“Guys!” Lavender panted from the doorway, “There's another . . . fight . . . in the Great
Hall.”

Hermione groaned and got up from her position on the common room sofa. It was her duty as Head
Girl to try to prevent these things from happening. But the fights had been getting more and more
unpredictable so no one ever knew when another one was going to break out. The last one had ended
with over fifty people getting admitted to St. Mungos . . . most were not even included in the
original brawl.

She and Ginny followed Lavender out of the common room at a jog. When they reached the Hall, the
fight had already spread to where surrounding people were getting cursed. Hermione ducked as a
curse went flying past her head and hit a nearby tapestry. Pulling out her wand, Hermione set out
to the front of the room.

Meanwhile, the fight was at its peak. It was not clear as to who started the fight, and frankly,
it didn't matter. All that was clear was that this fight was working its way to being the worst
yet this year. At this rate, most likely double the rate of incoming patents to St. Mungos would be
admitted as last time.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Dumbledore's voice boomed from the grand entrance. His voice sounded to be
magically enhanced, as it caused most of the fighters to cease their fighting and look his way.
“DROP YOU WANDS!”

This caused every head in the room to look his way and obey the orders. Hermione was already
standing her post at the front of the room. Dumbledore began to make his way to where Hermione was
at the front of the Hall and stopped right beside her. “Now . . .” -his voice was noticeably lower
in volume- “this is the third time that this epic `feud', as we have come to know it, has
caused a brawl. These brawls have been interrupting out curriculum and the attitudes of you
students. If I catch notice of one more of these events . . . all students participating shall be
expelled.” -There was a collective amount of gasps throughout the room- “Now I think it is fitting
that we all get back to our dormitories and finish packing for our Christmas Holiday.”

“Ms. Granger.” He added in a whispered undertone, “Would you mind patrolling the corridors after
everyone is in their dormitories? Just a precaution.”

Hermione nodded, “No problem, sir. I'll get right on it.”

Dumbledore gave her a curt smile and left the Hall with a swish in his robes. The teachers began
to escort the students to their appropriate places, their voices each amplified with their own
charms. Hermione found Lavender and Ginny in the crowd and they followed the current of students
that were leading to their destination of the Gryffindor Common Room.

~*~

He flipped to the next page in the book. It was the only pastime he had come to know these past
few days. Usually at this time of the day he would be on his broom, gliding through the clouds and
being completely and utterly relaxed. But the white blanket of snow that covered the once green
grass had prevented him from even considering the idea . . . unless he was to take the high risk of
getting frostbite. But unfortunately for him, he'd like to keep all of his body parts intact
without decapitation being an option. Even if he had the choice to be out there he wouldn't
take it . . . not now.

It wasn't because of the snow . . . he loved the snow. So still, yet still giving off tiny
twinkles when sunshine hit them. It wasn't because he had no one to go with . . . he rather
liked the feeling of being alone and undisturbed. He had become accustomed to it at the
Dursley's and it was the one thing he actually was thankful for from them. It certainly
wasn't because he was lazy . . . no. The only reason he refused to leave his refuge was because
of the thought plaguing his mind.

True, he had been known to have the most capability and composure when it came to the opposite
gender . . . he was a common role-model for those incapable to utter a word to a girl within
fifteen feet of them without saying a coherent sentence. And that was leaving him pondering in his
seat now. How could he have failed? It was expected of him. He was Harry-bleeding-Potter for
Merlin's sake! All-Star Quidditch Player; Savior of the Wizarding World; Lady's Man . . .
well not anymore.

He rested his head upon the leather book and closed his eyes . . . hoping a nice daydream would
clear his mind.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!” came a voice from behind him.

He groaned, every time he found time to relax . . . even for a second . . . he would always be
found. He couldn't catch a break! And the person who always found him . . . none other than his
best friend, Draco Malfoy, who knew him better than he knew himself half of the time. Which got
pretty annoying, if you ask him.

“Come on, come on . . . we need to get a move on!” Draco's voice pried. He started to shake
Harry's chair back and forth. This didn't please Harry, as it made him lift his head up and
glare at him.

“Why the rush?” Harry asked, straightening his chair and placing it at its correct angle.

“We have a party to prepare for.” Draco explained, dropping into the wooden chair beside
him.

Harry furrowed his brow, “I'm not really in the mood for a party right now.” Harry got back
to his book and continued to read the fine print. Draco snorted taking his hand and closing the
book shut. “Hey!” Harry hissed, “I was reading that.”

“Sure you were . . . Harry Potter, reading for fun?” He teased. Harry did not find this funny
and glared at him again. “Oh come on, you're not still worked up about that Chang bird are
you?”

Harry's expression softened, “Not exactly.”

“Then do explain . . . I've got nothing but time.” Draco encouraged. He leaned back n his
chair and placed his arms to rest behind his head. “Go on.”

Harry took a breath, “It's not Cho herself . . . more the fact that this is the first time
I've ever been . . . *rejected*. It's a new feeling, ya know? And . . . I really liked
her this time. I mean, really, *really* liked her.”

Draco chuckled, “Is that all? All of this time in the library, reading *books* because you
got turned down by the one girl who has a chastity belt around her waist twenty-four-seven?”

He nodded, “I guess so . . .”

“That's a silly thing to be upset about, mate. She's one hard bird to catch. I'll
bet you not even Myron Wagtail could make her wet her panties.”

Harry snorted, “Oh believe me, I know.”

“Well if you already knew all that then what did I just spend a minute telling you? Let's go
and get ready!”

Harry smiled, “And what is so important about this party that we have to get ready this
instant?”

“It's only the easiest party to crash, *ever*!” He smirked, “The Gryffindor's are
holding a Holiday Masquerade in the Room of Requirement tonight at seven sharp. Everyone will be in
masks and elaborate costumes; making us cunning Slytherin's job a lot easier to manage.”

“And what exactly is that job?” Harry asked, leaning on his elbow in mock-fascination.

Draco got up out of his seat and stood up in right in front of Harry, clutching his fist to his
chest dramatically. “To make it well-known that we Slytherin's are the best of the best and can
do anything we set our minds to, of course! I was planning on spiking their punch with some good
`ol fashioned firewhisky and causing everyone to be out of their wits end drunk!”

Draco heard a snort behind him and turned around to find Harry looking at him with a very amused
smile plastered on his face. “What's so funny?” He asked.

“That is the lamest plan I have ever heard!” He said, shaking his head slightly.

Draco clutched his heart in feign-insult, “I happen to have worked on that plan for a good 5
seconds. You'll be happy to know that you have just crushed my lifelong dreams of being a
mischief-maker for all eternity!” He turned around and stormed out of the corner they were
occupying.

Harry rolled his eyes. He knew the drill. He started to slowly clap. Not even a second later,
Draco was back to his spot next to Harry with a smirk on his face. “That was absolutely brilliant .
. . five stars!”

Draco took a bow, “I do try.”

He made his way back over to the table and placed his hands on the table in front of Harry,
leaning forward slightly. “Now about that party . . .”

“If it'll stop your drama queen act, then yes I'll go.”

Draco stood up and put his fist in the air in accomplishment, “I knew you'd come through,
mate.”

Harry gathered up his remaining books and placed them in his book bag. He followed Draco out of
their corner and towards the exit of the library. They were a good few meters away from the door
when Draco spoke, “And that's drama *king* to you.”

Harry chuckled and looked towards him. Turning around to make one of his famous witty-comebacks
he bumped into somebody's shoulder in his ignorance. The impact was so strong (or he was weaker
than he originally thought) that he and the person he collided with fell to the ground with a loud
*thump*.

“I'm so sorry.” He heard the stranger say in a very feminine voice. It was a girl.
*Great,* he thought, *just perfect.*

“It's alright.” He said, “It was my fault anyways, I wasn't paying attention.”

They both made a scramble to collect their things. Both of their combined parchments and
textbooks made one hefty pile to pick up. It was a struggle to decipher whose things where
who's.

There was one last book on the floor and Harry found himself placing a hand on top of it, unsure
whether or not it was his. He soon saw the stranger's small hand on the book as well. This
action caused him to look upwards, colliding his head with hers. The girl must have had the same
idea, because she had also lifted her head to take a look at him.

“Owch.” He heard her mutter.

They both stood up cautiously, hands still attached to the book gently. He lifted his head, this
time with more swiftness as to avoid another accident, and he caught site to a pair of the most
beautiful eyes he had ever seen. She was also staring into his eyes, from what he could tell. She
glanced down, a slight blush to her cheeks.

It looked as though she was about to say something to him, but a voice from behind them
interrupted her before she could utter a word. “Come on, Harry. We've got to go.”

Harry nodded his head stiffly and let Draco drag him away from the girl, book in hand. He
didn't want to leave . . . he wanted to stay . . . with that girl. *Idiot!* His mind
screamed; *this is what happened the last time! Do you want to be caught reading soppy love
novels again or not?!* He answered himself, *no**.* But he would not let his mind
wander far from the thoughts about this mystery girl.

He took a chance and glanced backwards, hoping for a better look at her. No luck. It seemed as
if she had walked off further into the library and away from his view. *Damnit.*

“What were you thinking?” He heard Draco hiss from beside him.

Harry shook his head and looked his way, “What do you mean?”

“Pulling a stunt like that . . . I thought I was about to puke.”

Harry's expression turned curious, “All I did was bump into a girl in the library . . .
what's so nauseating about that?”

“The fact that the girl you bumped into was Hermione Granger, that's what!” Draco explained,
“Out of all the girl's you could have bumped into . . . you had to bump into that filthy
mudblood Gryffindor.”

Harry shook his head, “I'm sorry that the fates weren't in your favor, oh Prince of
I-Have-To-Have-It-My-Way. I honestly don't know what's with people and this `feud'.
It's completely and utterly neurotic. Stereotyping people because of their houses . . .”

Draco suddenly stopped and turned to face Harry with an affronted look on his features. Harry
countered his look, daring him to press further. He ignored the look and spoke, “It has been going
on since the creation of Hogwarts a thousand years ago. Only people with a lot of balls have the
courage to question it.”

“Then call me a hundred-balled-troll, because I think it's stupid and a waste of time. I
bumped into a Gryffindor . . . so what? Is there something wrong with that? Other than the
prejudice thoughts that I know you want to vent to me, I find nothing wrong with it . . . do
you?”

Draco's mouth opened and shut a couple of times before he finally gave up and was
speechless.

“Let's just forget it and get ready for this party, before I change my mind.”

Harry set off down the hall, his steps noticeably longer and heavier. Draco had no choice but to
follow quickly behind. The rest of the trip was noticeably lacking conversation up to their arrival
of their common room. When they got there they set off to their dormitories and began to get ready
for the Winter Masquerade.

*This is going to be an interesting night . . .* Harry thought. He glanced towards Draco,
who was trying to sneak dirty looks at him. He turned back around and sighed, *very interesting
indeed.*

~*~

-->



2. The Party
------------



Chapter 2

Hermione turned around and looked at herself in the mirror. She gasped. “Voila!” Ginny spoke
from behind her. She had really done an extraordinary job with her costume; that was for sure.

She was reproachful at first when Ginny came up to her with the idea of a full-on makeover for
the party that night. She could've done it well enough herself . . . but she finally gave in so
that she didn't have to endure the
`You're-Never-Going-To-Get-A-Boyfriend-If-You-Don't-Try” speech.

Turns out she made the right choice. Of course, she laughed at the idea at first of her being
dressed up as an angel. She took it back now. Ginny had picked out a silky empire-wasted gown that
looked rather like a nighty . . . but she said that it was `all part of the ensemble'. It
wasn't like it showed that much skin . . . the square-cut neckline didn't reveal all too
much. For her hair, Ginny had to blindfold her, so she wouldn't interfere with the process.
Hermione thought this was unnecessary, as she had already agreed with the makeover. It turned out
beautifully. Her hair was miraculously straightened and pulled back halfway, accentuating her
lightly-painted face.

It was when Ginny attached the wings Hermione started to have the blindfold taken off. With a
simple spell, her make-up and overall makeover was over. And here she was, standing in front of the
mirror and staring at herself in disbelief.

Ginny held out her hand to Hermione, “That'll be fifty sickles.”

Hermione snorted and turned around to face her with an amused face, “Nice try.”

Ginny shrugged and started on her own costume. She had only done Hermione's early because
she had to be in the Room of Requirement early to help with decorations. Hermione looked at the
clock posted on the wall . . . six fifteen. She had a good forty-five minutes to prepare for the
party. It would probably take her and the Prefects who volunteered (which, frankly, weren't
that many) that much time to set up.

With a quick goodbye to Ginny and a swift grab of her mask from her bedside table, Hermione made
her way down the stairs and into the Gryffindor Common Room. She walked towards the portrait hole,
but her path was blocked by a broad chest in her face. She sighed. Now was *not* the time . .
.

“Hello Hermione.” She heard him speak.

Hermione sighed and looked upward into the grinning face of the most annoying being on the face
of the planet. She plastered a smile onto her face, it was only polite, “Hello Ronald.”

“You look . . . beautiful.”

“Amazing you can see what I'm wearing when we're in such close proximity to one
another.” Hermione hissed.

He backed off, that silly grin still on his face. “Sorry . . . a man can't help himself when
he sees a pretty girl like you.”

“Apparently so,” Hermione stated, “now if you don't mind . . . I have to go set up for the
party.”

“Oh, I'll accompany you!”

“That won't be necessary . . .”

“No worries, I signed up to help.”

Hermione sighed in exasperation, “Of course you did.” He nodded and extended his arm to her. She
pushed it away and started her walk out of the tower.

“I'll just follow your lead, then.” She heard him say from behind her. Again, she sighed . .
. *This is going to be a very interesting night.*

~*~

The finishing touches were made. He straightened his shoulder pads of his not-so-elaborate
`Knight in Shining Armor' costume. Since it had been a last-minute invite, he hadn't had
enough time to pick out an appropriate costume. Luckily (or not so for him), Draco had extras in
his closet.

He chose the one that didn't have to do with anything with accentuating his certain area.
Which is what most of the costumes were. He shuttered when he thought why Draco needed any of these
get ups. Most of them had to do with someone holding a whip or having an excuse to wear very tight
pants.

Resignation loomed over him. He was beginning to have second thoughts about this party. Sure,
there was a certainty that it was going to be a good time . . . but he still didn't want to
leave the sanctuary that was his room. There was no will to go.

“I'm not going.” He stated to the room.

Draco sighed, “Yes, you are.”

He turned around, “And what makes you so sure of that?”

Draco smirked, “I always have a way.”

Harry flinched, “Should I be scared?”

“Definitely.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “I won't give in that easily, you know.”

Draco started walking towards him. Harry started to back up until he hit his bedpost. Draco
leaned into him slowly and whispered in his ear, “Cho will be there.”

Harry suddenly perked up, “She will?” Draco nodded in response. His mood brightened. Maybe he
would get to have a second chance with her! He would talk to her . . . flirt with her . . . the
usual deal. And make her his by the end of the night. *Brilliant.*

Draco saw his accomplishment and turned to Blaise. Blaise just smirked and turned away. “Then
let's be off! We don't want to be late.”

“You have the invites, right?” Blaise asked as they walked through the dark common room.

“Of course.” Draco reached into the coat pocket of his pirate costume and pulled out the slips
of parchment.

“Remind me again how you got hold of those?” Harry asked.

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

“Don't you mean con-artist . . .?” Harry mumbled.

“I heard that.” Draco said.

Harry rolled his eyes and they continued their walk. It was good to know that their little beef
was over. Even if it was over something stupid . . . like running into a Gryffindor.

Running into *her*.

He still wished he could have stayed longer to get a closer look at her. All he could see were
those eyes . . . and then Draco had to pull him away! That was probably the last time he would see
her, anyways . . . it was a rare occasion when Gryffindor's and Slytherin's came into close
proximity to each other. *Damnit.*

They had reached the door to the Room of Requirement.

“Just walk past this wall three times . . . thinking of the party and its location.” Draco
instructed.

The group complied. Not even ten seconds later, a door appeared in front of them. Draco opened
the brass handle and motioned for them to follow . They did and all ended up in a room with members
of every house mingling and dancing with each other. It was hard to tell who was from which house .
. . but Harry had the feeling there wasn't many Slytherin's here.

They were stopped by a prefect who asked for their invitations. Draco showed them to the guard
and they were let through with a polite welcome. Harry immediately was overcome with the elaborate
design of the room. Any time he was here was when he needed to escape and didn't want to be
found for a long period of time. Thank Merlin, Draco still didn't know of this.

When Harry was in here, the room resembled the Slytherin Common Room with a few extra
bookshelves for obvious reasons. Now it was completely transformed. The walls either were red,
green, or silver and were covered with streamers and wreaths. There was a dance floor towards the
middle with about fifty tables surrounding it. Most of these tables were vacant, as Harry could
see. Most people were out and about dancing or mingling.

Draco tugged his arm, but Harry shrugged him off. Draco let him be. It was enough of a struggle
to get here . . . he wasn't going to ruin it now. For this, Harry was grateful. His first stop
as a solo guest to the party was the snack table towards one of the far corners of the room. There
he got some of the punch and took a sip.

He was rather bored on his own . . . so he decided set off to find the reason he even agreed to
come to this party in the first place. Cho. Moving through the crowd, Harry searched the room. But
since all of the guests were in masks . . . this was rather difficult. He could spot at least
twenty girls with long, black hair. *Of course . . . the one party I agree to come to is a party
where everyone is in a mask,* he thought. Oh, the irony.

He was in the middle of the slightly-crowded dance floor, looking all around for the familiar
figure that was Cho Chang. To his luck, a slow song started to play. Everyone started to pair off
into couples. He sighed. It was hopeless. He could never find her in this crowd. He shouldn't
have come . . . he shouldn't have given in to Draco's persuasion . . . he shouldn't
have-

She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

Her hair was of a cinnamon brown and she was dancing with a rather tall, bulky redhead. The man
spun her around, revealing that she had a pair of wings charmed to her back. She was an angel. Not
just because of her costume (which was of a most appropriate choice).

Her movements were swift and precise. But she seemed to be rather bored. Although her masked
face didn't reveal much . . . the false smile upon her lips could be seen from a mile away. Or
a few meters, in his case. The song was a rather boring one . . . something about un-breaking a
heart . . .

It ended soon, much to his relief. The man kissed her palm and she set off, saying something to
him in an undertone. When she turned around their eyes met. It seemed as though the whole room
froze. It was just them.

~*~

Hermione was very hesitant to accept Ron's dance offer. But since he promised it was the
only one he would bug her about . . . she let him. It turned out that the song he chose for them to
dance one was a love song. How fitting.

The whole time they were dancing she could swear that she felt someone watching her. It was like
someone was staring daggers into her back . . . but not a bad kind of daggers . . . more like a
tickles of ice that made her shiver. Hermione tried her best to ignore it . . . but the feeling was
too strong to let pass by.

She was glad when the song ended. She let Ron kiss her palm and she said a polite thank-you.
When she turned around she locked eyes with someone.

Him.

The one who had been staring at her. She could tell. Their eyes bore into one another,
communicating in their own way. She felt her legs start to move her forward, closer to where this
stranger was. His eyes followed her the whole way, and when she reached him she blushed and looked
down, breaking their eye contact.

When she looked back up at him, she found he was still looking at her. This caused her pink
tinged cheeks to burn a warmer red. He smiled at her. That smile caused butterflies to erupt in her
stomach. But this was a stranger . . . whom she had never met. She thought. The school was a big
place, but she could swear she saw that jet-black hair somewhere . . . but where?

He extended his arm out to her and she accepted it. He led them into a more private area where
people were just talking. She looked up into his eyes again and opened her mouth. She had to say
something to break the ice . . . didn't she?

“Umm . . . hi.” She said.

*Oh that was classy . . . very ladylike, Granger.* He mind scorned her. She tried to shake
the annoying voices out of her head, but they were harder to get rid of then anticipated. *At
least introduce yourself . . . say your name . . . Her-mi-one.*

“I'm Hermione.” She heard herself say. *There you go . . .*

“Harry.” He stated, holding his hand out for her. She just starred at it, confused as to what to
do. Her mind was blank. *He wants you to shake it, you moron.* Hermione mentally slapped
herself as she shook his hand gently.

Harry . . . that was a nice name; a *very* nice name.

“Do you want to sit down?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, “Sure.”

They sat down on a small stool against a wall. A conversation was in desperate need of starting.
They couldn't just sit there like idiots . . . could they?

“So I saw you dancing out there . . .” he started.

“Oh, yeah . . .” Hermione replied dryly. *Idiot.*

He turned around to face her, she mirrored his movement. “It didn't look as though you were
enjoying yourself. A girl like you should enjoy dancing with her boyfriend.”

Hermione laughed, “Boyfriend? Hardly. He's rather annoying, actually . . . will never leave
me alone and such.”

“Sounds like you have a stalker on your hands.” He said with amusement present in his voice.

“I wish. At least a staler is discreet and isn't completely obvious . . . flirting and
talking to you every time they get the chance.” She admitted.

“You don't like the attention?”

“Hell no!” she exclaimed, causing him to laugh, showing that smile again. She sighed inwardly .
. . not letting her cool composure go, “I would like the attention if it was by someone I actually
like. Not the stuck-up, preppy, idiotic being that he is. He was never nice to me before . . . but
then this year it's like `Hello, you're completely gorgeous and I'm really horny . . .
wanna go to Hogsmeade?'”

He laughed again, “Well he was right about one thing.”

“And what would that be . . . that his cock twitches every time he's near a human with
boobs?”

“Well . . . that . . .” he said, “. . . and the fact that you *are* completely
gorgeous.”

Hermione blushed, “No I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“And how would you know . . . with this mask covering my face?”

He smirked, “We'll just have to take it off, then.”

She returned his smirk, “You can't.”

Harry cocked his head to the side; smirk still in place, “And why not?”

“When you walked into this room . . . a charm was placed on you so that you can't remove
your mask until the party's over. Go ahead, try it.” She motioned to his mask.

She saw him life his hands to his face and tug on the mask slightly. Then harder . . . then
harder. He gave up and sighed, “Very clever.”

“I think it adds to the illusion of a Masquerade . . . makes it more . . .”

“Mysterious . . . magical.” He added.

“Exactly.” Hermione said.

“You know what else I think is magical?” he asked her, scooting closer to her on the stool. The
cushion covering the stool sunk with the extra weight, and Hermione could feel it beside her.

She looked down shyly, “What?”

He moved his hand from its spot on his lap and used it to tilt up her head towards him. She
found herself looking into those damn eyes again. But . . . she definitely wasn't complaining.
His face tilted to the side, “Your eyes.” He stated.

Hermione breathed out. She found herself deeply affected by his actions. His hand, still resting
on her chin, was sending fire throughout her system. Oh, how she wanted to kiss him. It was like
air to her at this moment. It would be perfect. She could imagine it now . . .

She felt something tickle her neck. Hermione and Harry both looked up at the brief disturbance,
his hand falling from its place. There, above them, hung a bunch of green leaves, all held together
by a scarlet ribbon. It looked a bit like holly . . . except for the tiny white berries scattered
throughout it. But that could only mean . . .

“Mistletoe.” She heard him whisper. His voice brought her down to look at him. She blushed under
his gaze. His hand made its way to her waist and pulled her closer to her. “It's tradition,
right?”

Hermione nodded nervously. His hand tightened against her and his head moved forward. She felt
her head do the same, and soon . . . their lips met. The tradition of a chaste kiss under the
mistletoe was quickly discarded as Harry added pressure onto her lips. She moaned and unconsciously
wrapped her hands around his neck.

She felt his lips detach from hers for a moment, enough time to regain their breaths. But in no
time at all they were attached again. A slight wetness could be detected at her entrance . . . she
took a chance . . . followed her instincts and let his tongue enter her mouth. It explored and soon
her tongue followed suit.

This was it . . . the farthest she had ever gone with anyone. Ever. Just as she felt his hand
detach from her waist and rub her leg gently . . . they heard a cough from behind them.
Hermione's eyes widened as she turned around and saw the red face of Ginny Weasley.
*Shit.*

“G-Ginny . . .” she managed to stutter. Harry's hands removed themselves from around her and
hers from him. She stood up and asked, “How did you find me?”

“Your mask fell off . . .” Ginny said.

Hermione's brow furrowed, “But . . . that's impossible . . .” Realization hit her. She
could see his face now! If her mask was off . . . then his must be too. She looked back and gasped.
She had no idea . . . none at all.

Harry Potter . . . the Slytherin Prince.

He seemed to have recognized her as well, as his eyes mocked hers in widening. They just started
at each other in disbelief. She felt Ginny pull her into the crowd. She kept on glancing back as
they made their way across the room, hoping to prove herself differently. It appeared as if Harry
had the same idea . . . she could see him pushing his way through the crowd a few feet behind
them.

She had kissed a Slytherin . . . a Gryffindor had kissed a Slytherin . . . they had
*kissed*. And she . . . she . . . liked it. A lot.

-->



3. A Very Interesting Holiday
-----------------------------



Chapter 3

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Ginny said as she threw Hermione on the couch (literally).
Hermione opened her mouth to speak but was silenced by Ginny interrupting her. “You weren't,
let me tell you that. A Slytherin, Herms . . . a *Slytherin!* How could you just be tangled in
the arms of a no good, dirty, rotten-”

“Ginny!” Hermione screamed, startling Ginny and temporarily stopping her rant. “I didn't
know!”

“What do you mean you `didn't know'?! His mask was off by the time I caught the two of
you! I'm pretty sure you would have broken apart for air by the way you two were basically
sucking off each other's faces! How did you breathe?”

“I didn't know because his mask was on last time I checked.”

Ginny furrowed her brow, “Oh I'm sure . . .”

“It's true, Gin!”

“And yet somehow I don't believe you. Curious . . .”

Hermione stood up in frustration. This was getting ridiculous. If Ginny didn't believe her,
then she was just going to have to explain it herself. *Great . . . just what I want to do . . .
recap the most erotic yet embarrassing moment of my life. Just perfect.* “Ginny . . . sit
down.”

“No.” Ginny said, crossing her arms in front of her chest in defense.

*Damnit, she's in her stubborn mode . . . what to do?* Hermione pondered, *Push her
already . . . you know you want to.* Her irrational side told her. *If it'll get this done
faster . . . then fine.* Hermione spun Ginny around and shoved her onto the couch with a force
she didn't know she had the power to muster. Ginny looked as surprised as she did, and she
didn't make a move to get up.

“Now will you listen?”-Ginny nodded meekly as Hermione took a deep breath-“He was watching me .
. . while I was dancing with Ron. I felt his eyes on me . . . when I turned around he was right
there. I walked up to him and we went in the corner to talk. And then . . . I remember thinking
that . . .”

“Thinking what?” Ginny asked, a little more calmness in her tone. No trace of the anger in her
voice. Hermione took this as a chance to calm down.

She sat down next to Ginny on the couch and took a deep breath, “That I really, *really*
wanted to kiss him. And I don't even know why. I just had this overwhelming feeling come over
me. And that's never happened to me, ever. And then . . . mistletoe appeared above us. So . . .
we kissed.”

“It was a little more than a kiss, if you ask me.” Came Ginny's humorous tone.

Hermione blushed. Oh it was *much* more than a kiss. “I guess we both got a bit carried
away.”

“A bit . . .”

Hermione smiled. But then frowned, realizing her point, “I didn't know who he was. His mask
was on the whole time. I didn't even feel it come off when we were . . . you know . . .”

“Snogging each other's brains out?”

“Something like that.” She said, “I know you will hate me forever for telling you this . . . but
I liked it. A lot.”

Ginny nodded, “I'm not happy about it. I mean, Slytherins and Gryffindors . . . this has
been going on for thousands of years. And kissing a Slytherin . . . isn't going to go well with
the others if they ever find out.”

“I know. Which is why I want to put it all behind me, and just forget about it.” *No you
don't.* Her thoughts screamed at her, *Yes you do . . . it's for the best.* Her
logical side explained. *Who's benefit? Yours or the entire population of Gryffindor?*

“That's a good idea. But just know that it's okay.” Ginny placed a hand on her shoulder
and squeezed it gently. Hermione smiled appreciatively and enveloped Ginny in a friendly hug.
“Now,” Ginny said as she patted Hermione's back, “let's head up to bed. I think we've
more than deserved it after tonight's events” Hermione nodded against her and let go. They both
turned towards the stairs and set off to their warm beds.

When Hermione pulled the covers over herself, she let her thoughts cloud her mind. She
didn't want to forget that kiss. But she had too if she wanted to abide in the feud. But she
didn't like the feud . . . not one bit. She was one of the few rebelling against it. She
thought it was worthless and outdated. But she would be frowned upon if she did anything more to
complicate the situation. And more . . . what did Harry think of the situation? *He probably is
laughing about it in his common room with Malfoy and the whole bunch.*

*No he isn't.* She retorted. *How would you know? You've only known him for a
day!* She argued. *But he seemed-**don't say it*-*normal**.*

*You silly, silly girl. What have you gotten yourself into?*

~*~

The next morning came too soon for Hermione. She felt the covers being thrown off of her and
Ginny's frantic voice pulling her out of her dreamland. Hermione groaned and rolled back onto
her side. She barely got a wink of sleep that night and wasn't in the mood to wake up just
yet.

“Gimme five more minutes, mum.” She whimpered.

“Number one, I'm not your mum.” She heard Ginny tell her, “And number two: we have thirty
minutes before the train leaves so I suggest you get you lazy bum out of bed!” to prove her point,
Ginny smacked Hermione's bum, and caused Hermione's eyes to shoot open.

She gently placed her feet out of her warm, comforting bed and made her way to the washroom
where she would get ready for her departure to the Weasley's, grumbling profanities to herself
all along the way.

When she got out of her warm shower, she got dressed and put her hair into a messy ponytail.
Grabbing her trunk from beside her bed, she made her way down to the common room where she saw
Ginny and Ron waiting for her. Ginny, with an impatient frown, and Ron with a satisfied smirk.

Hermione groaned to herself, another whole two weeks with the reason she wanted to pull her hair
out. It was enough exhaustion on her part to try and avoid him at school, but now being under his
roof when he is rapidly becoming obsessed with her was going to be one hell of a time. At least
Ginny will help her . . . she hoped. She was his sister after all; she must know some ways to get
past his attempts of molestation.

“It's about bloody time!” Ginny said, “We haven't got all day, now let's go. We have
ten minutes to get down there!”

Hermione quickly followed behind Ginny's frantic steps and felt a cold breath in her ear, “I
could wait all day and night for you.” Ron nibbled her ear and playfully squeezed her bum. Hermione
let out an aggravated groan and swung her elbow backwards, colliding with his stomach. She heard
him take in a painful breath and fall back from her a fair few feet. Mission completed. Now all she
had to do was prepare herself for his next attack. Oh joy.

They handed their bags to the prefect in charge when they reached the station and climbed onto
the red engine just as its wheels began to turn and make its way to King's Cross. “Thank
Merlin.” Ginny said, “Another close call.”

Hermione followed Ginny through the thin hallways and helped her search for an empty
compartment, which wasn't very easy. Apparently a lot of students were going home for the
holidays this year. They finally found one and settled down on the soft cushions.

The first two hours of the trip were uneventful by any means. All that really happened was the
climax in her book and Ron trying to sneak glances at her. Just as she felt Ron's arm going
around her shoulder, the door to their compartment opened.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” came the sweet voice from the elderly women pushing the
candy cart.

Hermione didn't realize how hungry she was until she heard her stomach rumble at the sound
of food. Even if it was candy. Hermione got up from her seat and made her way to the door to look
at the selection, leaving her book open on her seat. “Pick me up a treacle tart, will ya Herms?”
she heard Ron say. “Oh, me too, except a cauldron cake please.” Came Ginny's voice.

Hermione turned her head and nodded. She looked over the cart and ordered for the three of them,
taking her time to find exactly what she wanted. A licorice wand sounded nice . . . or maybe a
chocolate frog. She just couldn't decide.

“One sugar quill, please.” She heard a masculine voice say from beside her. She looked up and
gasped. It was him.

He must have realized her presence as well, because she soon found herself staring into the most
gorgeous pair of emerald green eyes she had ever seen. They just stood there, staring at each
other, much like the night before. But this time . . . neither had anything to say to the other.
Hermione wanted to, but just as she opened her mouth she heard Ron beside her.

“Hey sweetie, what's taking you so long?” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and
squeezed gently. He didn't feel her respond, so he looked up to what had her attention. A
Slytherin. Not just any Slytherin, but Harry Potter himself. And she and he seemed to be in some
sort of staring contest with one another. No one deserved to stare at Hermione except for him.
Especially a Slytherin like Potter.

“Hey get outta here, you scum!” Ron said.

Hermione looked up to the disturbance and saw Ron for the first time beside her. His hand was
draped around her shoulder and she looked up at him with a scowl on her face. How dare he interrupt
their moment!

*Wait . . . moment?! What moment?*

Hermione looked to where Harry stood just in time to see him with a scowl on his face much like
hers and turning to leave. She didn't dare make any movements to stop him. Especially in front
of Ron.

“He didn't give you any trouble, did he?” Ron asked.

“No. None at all.” She replied.

“Good, now hurry it up, we're starving.” He kissed her cheek and went back inside of the
compartment. She made no move to stop him and slap his cheek like she normally would. She was in a
stupor. How likely was it to run into the very boy that caused you to have a sleepless night? Not
very, in her opinion. Perhaps fate was playing games with her . . . curse it. Suffering wasn't
on her agenda this holiday. Except for Ron, of course, but she could take care of that little
problem.

“Anything sweet for you, dear?” she heard the woman ask. She hadn't placed her order yet,
she had been totally distracted by what was going on to even pay a care to her poor stomach.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” She apologized, “I'll have what he's having.” Her reply surprised
herself. It was almost automatically generated. The woman just smiled and handed her a sugar quill
before setting back off down the hall.

Hermione took a lick of the quill and realized that it was exactly what she had been craving.
Her stomach immediately stopped complaining and was settled. Hermione furrowed her brow as she sat
down in the compartment next to Ginny. Another automatic response. It seemed her body was turning
to mush and required robotic responses to function. Hermione didn't know whether this was a
good or bad thing just yet.

She sighed. This was going to be a very interesting holiday.

**A/N: I would like to apologize in advance for any typos in this story. I do have a hard time
finding them, so if you see any, please don't hesitate to point them out to me. It would be
much appreciated, thank you : ) Oh, and I hope you're enjoying the story!**

-->



4. Changes
----------



Chapter 4

Christmas holiday passed in a blur for Hermione. The days went flying past her when she was at
the Burrow. This was odd, since she always found the time slower to pass throughout her stays in
the past. Not that she was complaining, mind you. Ron's attempts were becoming more and more
harder to avoid. But the worst time was after they opened their presents on Christmas day.

Ron had pulled her aside and handed her a present wrapped in gold paper and a silver bow. He
told her that it was for later. And with a wink, he was gone. She let out a frustrated breath and
asked herself why he couldn't have just given it to her earlier when she was opening her other
presents wrapped like this. It didn't look to horrible . . . it looked safe. She carried the
present to her room and placed it upon her bed.

When Ginny came in the room and found Hermione staring at the gift, Hermione told her it was
from Ron. Ginny replied with a `be careful', which made her laugh. When Ginny left the room,
Hermione got up her courage and unwrapped the gift. Underneath was a hot pink, striped box, with
silver letters spelling `Witches Secret'. Hermione groaned. Somehow, she knew what was going to
be facing her when she opened the box.

Whatever she had been expecting, it was ten times worse! Inside, there lay a black lacy bra and
matching thong, and when she held it up to the light, she saw that it was completely transparent.
Hermione heard a knock at the door and quickly put the set back and closed the box sharply.

She told the knocker to come in and was faced to the grinning figure of Ron. The nerve of him!
“So do you like the present?” he had asked with a smirk. Hermione feigned a smile and walked up to
him. Ron took her actions exactly the way she wanted him to take them, as he started to lean
forward. But instead of a kiss, Hermione planted a smack on his right cheek that caused him to fall
backwards into the wall. The impact of the wall was so great that a framed picture fell and broke
atop his head.

Hermione suppressed a giggle and pushed him out of the doorway where he was supporting himself.
She heard a thump on the other side of the door and she let out a laugh.

Christmas day still made her laugh, so when she burst out in her carriage on the train home, she
earned more than a few curious glances. “Sorry.” She apologized. They just went back to their
reading and conversations. All except for Ron, who glared at her until he was forced back into his
conversation with Seamus.

Ginny nudged her shoulder, “You okay, Herms?”

Hermione nodded meekly. “Yeah, just tired is all.”

Ginny smiled in understanding and turned back to her conversation with Lavender. Hermione sighed
and looked down to the book in her lap. `Romeo and Juliet'. Ginny had lent it too her since she
had never really read the book and only the play. Only in the exception that Hermione help her with
her project. Of course, she agreed and had been glued to the book ever since.

She started to read and was taken to a world very familiar to her own. A world of prejudice and
violence at every corner. She wondered to herself, was this what an outsider would think if they
stepped into their world? She certainly hoped that Hogwarts wasn't as bad as this . . . or was
it?

~*~

Harry's holiday wasn't as eventful as Hermione's was. Although staying in a mansion
with practical family may seem fun, it wasn't when it has been happening ever since you were
eleven. Harry did love the Malfoy's, but they were a bit dull at times. Their idea of family
time on Christmas was their house elf bringing them each gifts from the other, opening them, and
going their separate ways.

*At least they are a family.* Harry thought to himself as he took his seat by Draco on the
train. There were a few times when Harry thought about Hermione. Their exchange on the train was
hard to forget. He didn't care if she was a Gryffindor or not, he had felt something in that
kiss and he was almost positive that she did too. But maybe it *was* best to forget. If they
talked to each other there would be an outrage of epic proportions throughout the school.

But it was easier said than done. They had only talked for a few minutes and he wanted to know
more about her. He favorite color, food, song, everything. Draco had noticed that his mind had been
drifting lately and advised him to get his mind out the gutter. If only he knew whose gutter he was
taking refuge in. But there was only one thing that scared him. What if he was the only one
thinking about their kiss? That would make him creepy even to himself. But he refused to let the
thought stay long.

Draco nudged him a bit in the stomach, catching his attention. Harry turned his head and met his
eyes. They were narrowed and asking him if he was alright. He nodded. Draco left him alone for the
rest of the ride.

When they arrived back at Hogwarts, Harry let out a sigh of relief. He was home. The feast that
night was even more satisfying and he went to bed with a full stomach for the first time in weeks.
The Malfoy's elf, no offense to him, wasn't the best cook in the world. Half of the time
Harry found himself over the toilet as the result of food poisoning. But this wasn't one of
those times. He pulled the covers over his shoulders and drifted to sleep.

~*~

Hermione woke up with a start, today was the first day of lessons. And her first class of the
day was in less than an hour! She jumped out of bed and quickly gathered her clothes from her
dresser. She carried them with her o the shower, where she quickly washed her hair and got dressed.
Grabbing her book bag, she rushed out of the common room and ran throughout the halls until she
reached the Great Hall. When she began to walk down the aisle, she was clutching her side and
breathing heavily, not going unnoticed by the other students.

She sat down next to Ginny, who smirked at her. “I told you sleeping in would be your downfall
one day.”

Hermione just glared at her and began to pile things on her plate. Looking at her watch, she saw
she only had fifteen minutes to get to Charms. So she grabbed a blueberry muffin and ate a few
bites of scrambled eggs. With the muffin in hand, she muttered goodbye as she rushed to class,
hearing Ginny still laughing at her.

She sat down in her seat just as the bell rang and sighed in relief. Unfortunately for her, she
wasn't watching where she sat, because there on her other side with a huge grin plastered on
his face, was Ron. Hermione cursed under her breath.

“Aw, don't play hard to get, baby.” He made a move to grab her had, but she pulled back and
held it up to his face.

“Unless you want a repeat of what happened on Christmas, you will never call me baby
*again.*”

“Oh come on . . .”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, challenging him to finish that sentence. He didn't. He
just got out his supplies and left her alone. Hermione smiled to herself; she was getting good at
this.

The rest of the lesson was uneventful, except for the fact that she felt Ron's eyes on her
throughout the entire lesson. When the bell rang she couldn't have been happier, even though
she usually enjoyed Charms. Hopefully next time she would pick a seat next to someone who would
leave her alone. Or better yet, sit by herself.

She followed the crowd until she got to the Ancient Runes classroom. Thankfully, Ron wasn't
in this class with her. Her day passed like this until she got to History of Magic. It was the only
class today that she had with the Slytherins. This meant she would see Harry for the first time
since the train ride.

Her stomach had butterflies in it when she walked in the classroom, and they doubled when she
saw that mop of familiar ebony hair. She swallowed hard and continued to walk towards her seat by
Lavender Brown.

“Hermione, are you okay, you seem a bit . . . distracted.” Lavender said as she opened her book
for class.

Hermione put on a smile, “I'm fine, thanks.”

Lavender furrowed her brow, “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm.”

“It's a boy, isn't it?”

“What?!” Hermione asked, shocked by Lavenders question.

“It is!” she said, squealing, “Who is it, Terry?”

“It's not a boy, Lav.” Hermione lied.

“Liar. You have that dreamy look in your eyes and you've been squirming in your seat. Which
can only mean that he's in this class!” Lavender began to look around the room for possible
candidates when Hermione stopped her.

“It's not a guy!” she practically screamed. A few people turned around to see what all of
the racket was about and Hermione shooed them off.

Professor Binns floated into the classroom and everyone became silent. “I'm going to find
out.” Lavender whispered in her ear. Hermione just rolled her eyes and focused her attention to the
front of the classroom.

“Today,” Binn's dull voice spoke, “We will begin a group project having to do with the
history of whatever you and your partner chooses, as long as it has to do with a Wizarding
topic.”

The class, not having dosed off yet, had their attention caught and began to talk excitedly.
This was the first time that Binns had actually assigned a partner project that sounded semi-easy
and not dull as usual. The talking rose to a blur of loud voices discussing who they wanted their
partners to be, and what topic they were going to choose.

Professor Binns chose this moment to begin speaking again. Only a few students noticed his
efforts to catch their attention and helped to quiet down the classroom. When it was silent,
Professor Binns continued to speak, “I will choose your partners, and you will choose a topic
before the class is over.”

Hermione heard everyone groan. Binns wasn't know to be a fair teacher, so she wasn't as
surprised and let down as her classmates. As long as she wasn't paired up with Ron or someone
who would make her do all the work, she'd be okay.

“I shall call off of the pairs and you shall sit next to them.” Binns instructed, “Weasley and
Brown, Malfoy and Zabini, Radcliffe and Watson, Finnigan and Thomas, Patil and Longbottom,
Bulstrode and Parkinson, Crabbe and Nott, Greengrass and Goyle, Davis and Adkins, Baskin and
Layman, Potter and Granger.”

The entire classroom went silent as Binns kept on reading off names as if nothing was wrong.
Hermione looked across the classroom and found Harry already looking at her. The students began to
yell in protest, gathering Binn's attention.

“What seems to be the problem, here?” he asked the angry students.

“No Gryffindor should be paired with Slytherin scum!” someone yelled.

“Even if it is Granger!”

“Slytherin is too good for Gryffindor!”

“The feud!”

Comments like these were shouted towards Professor Binns as he looked down at his parchment.
Hermione could see his eyes widen as he looked towards her and Harry. He flipped through the
parchment, looking for other partner combinations, but it was impossible. Any way he re-arranged
the list of students, there would always be a Gryffindor and Slytherin paired up.

“Calm down, calm down!” Binns shouted at the class. The class silenced at Binn's outburst.
“You will either accept your placements as they are or risk failure of this class. Granger, Potter,
see me after class. Due date is one month from today. But for now get with your partners and decide
on your topic.” When the class didn't respond, Binns shouted, “Now!”

The screeching of chairs and bustling of students to get with their partners was heard all
around her. She joined the crowd and made her way to where Harry was sitting. She sat down and
looked down at the table awkwardly.

“So . . .” she heard Harry say.

“So . . .” she repeated. They sat like that for a few minutes in awkward silence. *You need a
good grade!* Her mind said. She perked up her courage and spoke, “Look . . . I don't want
this to be awkward when I want a good grade on this assignment. So let's put everything that
happened behind us and start anew, alright?” Hermione stuck out her hand for him to shake.

Harry furrowed his brow, “You get straight to the point, don't you?”

Hermione smiled and nodded. He took her hand and they shook on it. “Well that was easier than
expected.” She said.

“It's only as easy as you make it to be.” Harry said.

“Very wise.” Hermione commented, impressed.

“Thank you, I do try.”

Hermione giggled and got out a piece of parchment and a quill. “So do you have any ideas on a
topic?”

“Not really . . . I don't know much about the Wizarding world to tell you the truth.” He
admitted.

“Well then we should do something simple . . . like the Salem Witch Trials. They're easy
enough and almost everyone knows about them.”

“Good choice.”

“Thank you, now we're going to have to be in the library a lot just so you know. I'm
positive they have books on the trials.” Hermione said

“I like the library, so no problems here.”

Hermione smiled in appreciation, “Good. We can meet on certain days after class and for a few
hours on Saturday and Sunday in the afternoon. If we do this, then we'll have the project done
before the due date by a few weeks!”

Harry nodded throughout when she was explaining. “Sounds good to me, but when should we meet
during the week? Like, how many days?”

“Erm . . . how about two or three, depending on our progress.”

“Sure, sounds great. So how about we start tonight after dinner?” Harry suggested. Hermione
nodded. “How about we spend the rest of the hour slacking off?”

“Nice try. I'm not called an over-achiever for nothing. You're in for a tough month,
Potter.”

“And yet I'm looking forward to every moment of it.”

The rest of the class period passed quickly, much to Harry and Hermione's dismay. Hermione
was having a great time with Harry; he was funny, nice, caring . . . and so out of her league. When
the bell rang, Hermione picked up her bags and followed Harry to the front of the classroom where
they were to meet Professor Binns.

“One moment, you two.” He mumbled while he finished writing on a parchment atop his desk. When
he was done, he adjusted his transparent glasses and looked down at them. Hermione gulped and
looked over at Harry for support. He smiled at her, removing the weight off of her shoulders.

“Do you two have any problems with this pairing?”

“No, sir.” They replied in unison.

“And you realize that it will be a difficult strain on yourselves and your houses to be seen
together?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you accept yourselves as partners and solemnly swear not to ask for new ones no matter what
the circumstances?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You may go.”

And so Hermione and Harry walked out of the classroom with Professor Binn's instructions
fresh in their minds into the crowded hallway. But when they took time to take in the scene before
them, they didn't see students walking to dinner, but a whole other scene entirely. A scene
that made Harry and Hermione grab hold of each other's hands and run.

~*~

-->



5. In Your Dreams
-----------------



Chapter 5

It was an understatement to say that she was shocked at how huge the crowd was outside of the
classroom. Frightened and bewildered seemed to fit the description much better. But Hermione knew
at once that they had to run in order to escape what was sure to be a full uprising. She and Harry
ran down the nearest corridor, everything becoming a blur as they picked up speed. When they
finally stopped to catch their breathes, they each shared a look of relief.

“That was a close one.” Harry said.

Hermione nodded meekly in response, “Too close.”

“I didn't think that word traveled that fast around here.”

She snorted, “You're joking, right?”

He smiled at her, “I guess you're right. But I didn't think that it would be this much
of a bother.”

Hermione gave him a look and he immediately backed down. “We haven't even been partners for
a whole day and now we have an angry mob waiting at our classroom door.”

“Could you really expect anything less?” He said with an incredulous look.

“This school needs a wake-up call. This feud has been going on for too long with no good reason
behind it. You think the defeat of the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries would brighten their
outlooks on life a little bit”

“My opinion entirely.” He agreed.

“Well, I guess we'll just have to deal with it for now. I don't think that there is much
we can do about it.”

He nodded, “Come on, I'll walk you to your common room.”

She gave him a weird glance and took his extended hand. How did he know where the Gryffindor
Common Room was? Then again, it *was* a kind of obvious entrance. She decided to ask no more
questions and let him lead her to the staircases.

Throughout the whole journey they were enveloped in a comfortable silence. No words needed to be
exchanged in order to bring about any more conflict. When they reached the familiar portrait he let
go of her hand, letting a cool breeze sweep over it at the loss of contact.

“I guess I'll see you tomorrow night, after dinner?”

“Yeah, definitely. Get ready to do some major reading, Potter.” She teased.

“Looking forward to it, Granger.” He said. There was a pause. When she thought he was making a
move to leave, he turned around and gave her a swift peck on the cheek. “Goodnight, Hermione.”

She felt color rise up into her cheeks, but fended it off as she replied with a curt “Goodnight,
Harry.” in response. When his form could no longer be seen she let the pink tinge spread on her
cheeks as she placed her cool palm upon it in an attempt to calm herself. She felt the blush wilt
away, but the place where his lips met her skin still remained warm. She bit her lip and let out a
steady breath.

*Calm yourself, Granger,* her mind spoke, *it's just a boy.*

*A very cute boy . . . who just happened to give you a kiss.*

*On the* cheek. *Truly platonic intentions.*

*Right.*

Hermione groaned. The last thing she wanted was another internal battle with herself. For all
she knew, people would start calling her neurotic by next week. Well, she *was* kind of . . .
No.

“Do you have any intention to come inside, dear?” she heard a voice call from behind her. The
fat lady was looking at her with an indescribable expression on her face and her hands on her
hips.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” She apologized, “Flobberworm.”

The portrait nodded and opened up to let her inside. When she entered the tower, she found it
completely deserted. Not even a few first years playing wizard's chess. Hermione frowned in
disgust. This school really needed to get new hobbies.

Hermione walked up to her dormitory and found it, too, was completely empty. *What a
shocker.* She made her way into the bathroom and prepared herself a nice bubble bath. It had
been a stressful day, and she had to take advantage of the vacant dorm. She set up candles from her
trunk around the marble tub and added some of the lavender-scented bath salt her mother had sent
her. It was uncanny how well her mother knew her. Soon, she found herself enveloped in bubbles and
began to feel her body relax. She buried herself within the tub and let her mind wander.

It seemed as though her life was one big soap opera, not unlike the ones she used to watch when
she was spending time with her mother. Sometimes Hermione half-expected her half-brother from
Indonesia to show up during dinner and confess that he has to have brain surgery that will most
likely be deadly since it was being performed by Neville Longbottom. She snorted. In her life,
nothing was impossible; it all began when she had gotten her Hogwarts letter all those years ago .
. .

But those were simpler times. Times when she didn't even know that Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry existed. Times where the only important thing to lose any sleep over was
what food items she was going to trade at lunch the next day. Simple wasn't a part of her
vocabulary anymore.

Hermione sighed as she started to hum absently, a familiar tune that she couldn't place. She
let her eyes shut lazily as she let her mind go completely blank of all coherent thoughts. She
heard the door open slightly and she opened her eyes to take a peek at who it was. It was only
Crookshanks. The feline jumped onto the thick edge of the tub and purred softly, giving Hermione
some well-needed company.

After about a half of an hour, Hermione forced herself out of the cool water. She laughed when
she looked down at her hands and saw they looked like prunes. Grabbing a fluffy towel off of the
rack, she made her way to her canopy and changed for bed. It was only six in the evening, but she
didn't feel like eating anything and the lure of her warm sheets and fluffy pillow was becoming
more and harder to resist.

She tucked into her covers and let her eyes drift close once again as dreams soon entered her
still working mind.

*She was walking. Walking through what seemed to be a long corridor. Her footsteps echoed off
of the stone walls and the candles aligned on the wall flickered when she moved past them. It was
very quiet. Too quiet for anything to seem at ease. Her feet guided her along the maze of hallways
until she reached an open doorway. She pushed it open with slight curiosity and was overwhelmed
with light.*

*She covered her eyes as she adjusted to the change of scene. It seemed as though she was in a
field of some kind. With tall, dry grasses and what looked to be a playground in the distance. It
was so hot outside that she began to feel sweat accumulate on her brow. She wiped the
bead**s* *away as she continued to walk down the worn-down path. Someone else had been
here.*

*There was no wind, yet the two swings on the swing set portion of the playground swayed in
tune with each other, causing a shiver to erupt down Hermione's spine. She looked around the
deserted area and called out, “Hello?”*

*There was no answer, so she tried again, “Hello . . . is anyone there?”*

*Again, only silence answered her calls. She sighed in frustration and made her way to the
tiny metal carousel towards the middle of the playground. Hermione sat down and lent her back
against the curv**ed middle of the contraption**.*

*All of a sudden the sunlight that was warming her face seemed to disappear. As she looked up
to try to make sense of the disturbance, Hermione saw that a few stray black rainclouds had made
their way in front of the sun. Soon, those few lonesome rainclouds were accompanied by more and
more even larger, dark, clouds until the entire blue sky was enveloped by darkness.*

*A cool wind began to blow stray rocks and sand into the air. Hermione coughed as some of the
small fragments made their way into her mouth and airstream. When she finished coughing, Hermione
saw a slight orange light in the near distance.*

*“Hello?” she called out, “Who's there? Hello?”*

*She got up from her position on the carousel and stepped on top of it, squinting to get a
closer look at the mysterious light in the distance. It was getting closer, coming towards her at a
steady pace. She began to hear muffled voices . . . angry voices. The distant light was coming
closer . . . closer. Hermione could finally make out some of the figures in the distance. They
looked to be just normal, human beings . . . carrying some sort of torches with bright orange fire
atop of them. Hermione didn't have to think hard to guess what else they were holding in their
arms.*

*She gulped and jumped off of her parch. It was a mob. A very,* very *angry mob. And they
were coming for her, she just knew it. So she ran. She ran as fast as she could back towards the
path where she came from. But when she looked for the familiar patted-down patches of grass, they
were no longer visible. She was trapped.* *The voices were getting closer; she didn't dare
turn around. Hermione thought she saw a slight shadow in the distance in the shape of a building.
An escape!*

*She began to sprint towards the building, as if her life depended on it. Which, she was sure
it really did. As she became closer to the* *shadow* *she saw that it was a*
*fairly* *large building. It looked as though it could have been a rather nice house, a
mansion of a wealthy family, perhaps. The shingles were faded and tinted black, the shutters were
askew, the grass was unkempt. It had probably been abandoned for a fair few years.*

*Admiring the house had its consequences. When she turned around, she saw that the mob was
directly in front of her. She hadn't even heard them approach. Her breath became ragged, her
body shaking in horror. She tried to make out some faces and gasped when she saw her fellow alumni
staring back at her. There was Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Draco Malfoy, Terry Boot, Millicent
Bulstrode,* *Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and . . . no, it couldn't be . . .*

*“Ginny?” she asked in a harsh whisper.*

*The redhead made her way through the crowd of people and faced Hermione with a smirk upon her
lips. That smirk soon turned to a horrific frown. “You betrayed me, Hermione.”*

*“What? No I didn't! You know I would* never *do anything to harm you or hurt you in
any way!” she spoke frantically.*

*“You're a traitor. A dirty, filthy, Mudblood traitor!” she screamed at her.*

*Hermione shook her head furiously. “No.” she whispered.*

*“Oh yes.” Ginny began to approach her, the mob following close behind.*

*“NO!” Hermione yelled at them. She turned around and ran towards the opening of the deserted
house. She locked the door behind her and ran up to the flight of stairs she saw directly in front
of her. The stairs led to a short corridor with a door towards the end. She sprinted towards the
door and flew it open, locking it as well. She looked around the room as she* *steadied*
*her breath. It looked to be a baby's nursery, with blue walls and matching blue and white
furniture scattered everywhere. Out of curiosity, Hermione walked towards the crib, where she saw a
mobile with tiny snitches and broomsticks dangling from it. She pulled on the tiny string and heard
it play a tune that sounded vaguely like `Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'. She smiled and felt
the warm wool of the sheets.* *But the warm moment was ruined when she discovered a dark burn
mark stained on a large part of the sheets**. She ran her hand over it and was immediately
overwhelmed with tears, though she did not know why.*

*She allowed herse**lf to look to the left, where a small, wooden table lay tipped over
on its side. She walked around it and saw small shards of glass surrounding the small area. The
sharp objects crunched under her trainers as she bent down. She saw a single sheet of paper burred
underneath the pile of rubble. She carefully pulled the paper out of its place and turned it over.
It was a photograph . . . of a family. There was a tall, dark haired man with rounded spectacles
with his arm around a beautiful young woman with auburn, cascading hair and sparkling emerald eyes.
They were smiling and constantly glancing at the bundle within the woman's arms. The bundle
shifted and Hermione saw the innocent face of an absolutely adorable baby* *boy* *with
black hair to match his father's and shocking emerald green eyes like his mothers. She knew
those eyes . . .*

*The room suddenly shook as a few of the paintings that aligned the walls fell from their
places. Hermione clutched the photo to her chest as her breathing started to quicken. “Where's
Potter to save you now, Granger?!” she heard a cold voice say. “Throw the torches!”*

Throw the torches?!

*She soon heard the sound of windows breaking downstairs and start to come closer. Soon the
window in the room she was hiding in burst open and sent shards of glass flying at her. Hermione
ran to a corner far from the window and shielded herself and the photo. When she looked up, she saw
one of the torches that the mob members were holding on the floor, quickly catching the baby blue
rug in the middle of the room on fire. She screamed.*

*She curled into a ball, uncertain of what to do. She felt for her wand, but found that her
search was aimless. She had no source of protection. She was going to die. The flames were
enveloping the nursery, catching the delicate wooden furniture pieces on fire and causing them to
collapse. When the fire reached the crib, it slowly made the tune that the mobile was still playing
melt away. Hermione let out a sob.*

*She clutched onto the photograph in her hands and gave it another glance. She looked at the
smiling family and said “I'm sorry, Harry.” The tears began to drip onto the photo as she
sobbed on the floor in her fetal position. She rocked back and forth as she felt the flames come
closer to her and begin to burn her skin.*

*She felt someone shake her shoulders. She craned her neck upwards and saw the dark figure of
someone looming over her. The figure pulled her up and seemed to carry her through the flames,
unscathed. When they reached the door and it opened, Hermione's eyes* *shot open*
*along with it**.*

Sweat was accumulated on her brow as she lifted herself on her elbow and looked around her
dormitory. Her breathing was heavy, about as heavy as it had been in her dream; no, her nightmare.
She looked over at the clock beside her bed, five thirty in the morning. She had gotten over eleven
hours of sleep. That was the most sleep she had had in a long time, especially with upcoming exams
and projects looming around her. She lifted the covers off of her shivering body and made her way
to the bathroom. When she looked in the mirror she saw she has tear-stains on her cheeks and her
eyes were red and puffy. She quickly turned on the tap and splashed cold water in her face. If she
wasn't awake, she was now.

Hermione quickly dressed and went down into the common room. When she was changing she heard the
sound of heavy breathing throughout the room, signifying that her dorm mates had retuned sometime
that night.

She took her normal seat on the overly stuffed scarlet sofa and looked at the paperwork that she
left on the table a few nights ago. It was her unfinished Potions essay. It was ninety percent
done, all she had to do was proofread it and double-check for any misspellings and grammar errors.
So she set off doing just that, finishing up at around six thirty. It was still too early to go
down to breakfast, so she decided to get a head start on her other assignments as she frequently
glanced at the clock. When the clock struck seven thirty she decided it was safe to go down to
breakfast.

She arrived in the hall as one of the first occupants of Gryffindor house, not an unusual
occurrence. She glanced around the hall as she buttered her morning slice of toast and caught site
of a few tired-looking fifth years at the Ravenclaw table supposedly cramming for an upcoming test
or studying for their O.W.Ls. Hermione smirked, wondering if she had ever looked like that.

She adjusted herself on her seat and began to pick at her food. She was well on her second
helping of kippers when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Assuming it was Ginny she turned around
without a care, expecting to get some answers about last night out of her. She was proven
wrong.

Hermione gasped as she met the familiar green eyes that she had seem in her dream that night.
“Harry.” She breathed, “What are you doing here?”

“It's a little early for anyone to be getting up on a Saturday, so I figured it was safe
enough to come on over.” He explained casually.

She had completely forgotten that today was Saturday. “Oh, um, right. Have a seat.” She gestured
to the place on the stool beside her. He smiled at her in response and gingerly sat down next to
her, immediately filling his plate with food. It was obvious he had just gotten here.

When he began to eat he started to speak, “Did you have an empty dormitory last night?”

Hermione nodded, “Yeah, completely deserted.”

“Me too, I think it was like that all last night until about nine when I heard people returning
from Merlin-knows-where.”

Hermione giggled, “I didn't even hear anyone come in . . . I went to sleep almost
immediately after you dropped me off.”

“You must have got plenty of sleep, then.” He said with a smile.

“The most I've gotten since the beginning of the year.”

“Well that's good. You deserve it.”

Hermione just blushed and continued to eat. Harry and Hermione had been having a very friendly
conversation until they were both starting to get uncomfortable when they felt people beginning to
stare. “Well I think I'd better leave, then . . . I don't want to gather too much attention
and start a riot.”

Hermione laughed, but her smile faltered when she saw one red-faced, clearly peeved, red head
storming towards the two of them. “Oh Merlin, no.” she placed her hand on her forehead and rubbed
gently, then choosing to get up and face Ron.

“What is that scum doing over here?” he spat.

“That *scum.*” -She motioned to Harry behind her- “happens to be my friend, so I would just
back off, Weasley.”

“The hell I will.” He pushed Hermione aside and made her clutch the table to balance
herself.

“Get the hell away from my girlfriend you piece of shit!”

Hermione pushed herself up and tried to intervene, but it was no use, neither of the boys would
let her through. “You are *not* my boyfriend!”

Ron glared at her, “That may be so, but don't lie, you can't resist the Weasley
charm.”

Harry snorted, earning Hermione and Ron's attention. “Something funny, Potter?”

“Oh, nothing . . . just the fact that you think bombarding the poor girl with lousy
come-on's and out-of-date pick op lines is worthy of being called charm.” Harry said with a
smirk. Hermione giggled at his clever response as Harry smiled at her.

“You're just jealous because I'm closer to her than you're ever going to be.”

“More like vice versa. She can't *stand* you, told me herself.” Harry said
confidently.

“Oh yeah? And when did she say that, Potter, in your dreams?” Ron smirked triumphantly.

Harry mirrored his smirk, “Christmas Party, the day before winter holiday.”

Hermione inwardly gasped. She couldn't believe he still remembered that. It seemed so long
ago . . .

*“Boyfriend? Hardly. He's rather annoying, actually . . . will never leave me alone and
such.”

“Sounds like you have a stalker on your hands.” He said with amusement present in his voice.

“I wish. At least a staler is discreet and isn't completely obvious . . . flirting and talking
to you every time they get the chance.” She admitted.

“You don't like the attention?”

“Hell no!” she exclaimed, causing him to laugh, showing that smile again. She sighed inwardly . . .
not letting her cool composure go, “I would like the attention if it was by someone I actually
like. Not the stuck-up, preppy, idiotic being that he is. He was never nice to me before . . . but
then this year it's like `Hello, you're completely gorgeous and I'm really horny . . .
wanna go to Hogsmeade?'”

He laughed again, “Well he was right about one thing.”

“And what would that be what . . . that his cock twitches every time he's near a human with
boobs?”

“Well . . . that . . .” he said, “. . . and the fact that you are completely gorgeous.”*

She blushed at the memory, but then was brought back to reality when she heard Ron's angry
baritone start to shout. “You were at the Gryffindor Party . . . a Slytherin?!”

“I wasn't the only one. You should really tighten up the security at those parties, Weasley,
I think old Moldyshorts himself could've gotten in if he were wearing a `Hello, I'm a
Vicious Dark Lord and Enjoy Tormenting Little Children' shirt and a kitten mask.” Hermione full
out laughed at his comment, earning a cold glare from Ron. She shook it off and gave Harry a silent
thumbs-up behind Ron's back. This seemed to egg Harry on more, as he spoke again, “Although, I
suppose if security let a washed-up dung like yourself to such an extravagant bash . . . I
don't see why not.”

Ron looked murderous. He looked as though he wanted to punch Harry straight in the face,
knocking him out cold, and stick a thousand knives into his body. The only thing that appeared to
be stopping him was Hermione behind him, and the Professors who were looking at the exchange with
some amount of interest and scornful looks.

“You just wait Potter.” Ron said in a harsh whisper. He edged closer to the Slytherin, “You
won't lay a hand on Hermione, and you will *never* make a fool out of me or my house.”

Harry just smirked, “Too late.” With that said he turned to leave, pausing for a moment and
looking at Hermione with a shy grin on his face. “We still on for tonight after dinner?”

Hermione was still dazed from the exchange and the flashback that she had a hard time mumbling a
coherent, “Yes.” Harry seemed to take the answer as a good enough one to leave the Great Hall abuzz
as he walked out of the doorway.

-->



6. Awkward Glances
------------------



Chapter Six

Five minutes. Just five more minutes she had to meet Harry in the library for their first
studying session. Hermione couldn't be more anxious as she twiddled her feet underneath the
table and continued to glance towards the direction of the exit. She knew she shouldn't be this
overly excited about their meeting. But it felt sort of exciting, breaking to rules to meet your
new partner in the confines of the library.

Ron had made sure to keep a close eye on her ever since the `incident' that morning. It
seems that his ego being somewhat deflated had no effect affect whatsoever on his overprotection of
his not-so-secret fancy. He made sure to stay close by her side during dinner and try (yet not
succeed) to hold her hand underneath the table. He was now nursing the bruises forming on his palm.
Hermione took this as an opportunity to run for it.

She got up swiftly from the table and grabbed her books from where she had set it previous. She
only glanced at Ron's reaction to her abrupt leaving, and in that glance it seemed as though he
needed a very firm stress ball. As she made her way out of the hall she felt eyes at the back of
her head. She stopped, an odd feeling coming over her. She turned around and heard the shifting of
seats so that it appeared the whole hall was eating and easily in conversation. Hermione sighed.
Those new hobbies had better show up soon.

It was a quick trip to the library. That might have been due to the rapid movements of her legs
and her slightly out-of-breath demeanor. She pushed open the doors that allowed her into the
library and felt a gust of something come over her; must have been the cooling charm on the school.
Hermione started to search the tables for a familiar tuff of ebony hair.

“He has to be here somewhere . . .” she muttered to herself. “Of course we didn't pick a
place to study”

All of the places she checked were vacant as usual as there were no upcoming exams or projects
due until the following months. Of course, there were the odd few overachievers scattered
throughout the secluded places. She often found herself in these corners more often than not.

Hermione edged her way around another corner, expecting to find another vacant table. She heard
it before she saw it. Giggling . . . and a faint sound that to her ears sounded light someone
sucking on a cherry lollipop. She looked up and gasped.

“Oh Merlin! I'm so sorry!”

The couple only glanced a moment at her before continuing their activities. But it wasn't
the curiosity or the outrage of the couple flaunting public displays of affection that caused her
to stay where she stood. It was the familiar tuff she had been looking for.

“Harry?” she whispered in astonishment.

The boy half of the pair glanced up to meet her gaze. When their eyes met he immediately started
to push the girl away from where she stood sucking on his neck. She turned around and Hermione
recognized her as the seventh year Ravenclaw bombshell, Cho Chang. She let out a breath.

“Sorry to have interrupted-” Hermione started.

“No. No really it's alright . . . right Cho?” Harry glanced at the black haired beauty as
she wiped her smeared lip gloss from her lips.

She nodded. “Oh yeah.” She smiled at Harry and picked up her discarded jumper from the table at
her side, smoothing out the small wrinkles. “I'll see you later, Harry.”

Harry gave her a curt nod in response. When she was safely out of reach Harry sighed and took a
seat at the far end of the table. He motioned for Hermione too sit down and she complied in her
zombie-like state. She expected him to smile at her but he was looking down at the table, tracing
the patterns the wooden structure held. Her brow furrowed in confusion. He glanced up and caught
her look right before she had time to change it back. He sighed as he straightened out his
composure and leant back in the chair.

“Listen, I really am sorry that you had to see me like that.”

Hermione's expression didn't change. “You're apologizing to *me**?*” -he
nodded- “It should be *me* apologizing to *you*. I came too early and you were obviously
occupied . . . so I'm sorry.”

He shook his head, “She caught me off guard, that's all.”

“Oh.”

He must have taken her reply in a questioning manor, as he continued to speak. “You aren't
mad at me?”

“No, why would I be?”

He now seemed to match Hermione's look of confusion. “You're not . . . jealous?”

Hermione stomach seemed to drop down into her feet. “J-jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

Harry looked embarrassed, “Well I thought because of our history . . .” Hermione let out a
frustrated sigh. “And I see I was wrong. You obviously didn't feel anything.”

“Look Harry, I said I wanted to forget about it. That means no mentioning it, no acting
differently around me because of it. I'm one of your friends and we are working on a project
together that is due in a few short months and I for one would like to get it done.” She was out of
breath when she finished.

Harry looked slightly affronted, “Oh . . . well, alright then.”

Hermione nodded and began to unload the supplies she had packed in her book bag, all the while
scolding herself. *Great, now he thinks that you are some freak that wants to avoid something
that obviously meant something to you.-No it didn't-Yes it did-No it
didn't**!**-You know you felt something-It was just the punch-YOU DIDN'T HAVE ANY
PUNCH!*

“Are you alright?”

Hermione gasped as her head shot up and banged against the bottom of the table. “Owch!” she
whispered as she rubbed the top of her head. She sat down on the ground and continued to rub it
until she felt a small bump. “Just great.” She muttered under her breath.

She heard some movement beside her and saw Harry kneeling with a concerned look etched on his
features. “I'm sorry; you must have been looking for something.”

“No.” she confessed, beginning to straighten her back. “I was just thinking.” She saw his hand
held out in front of her and took it. They both got up and faced each other, not even an inch away.
Hermione felt her breath catch and took a step away. When she looked back up she saw his face was
turned to the ground as well. She smiled. She let the smile fade, though, the reason behind it
causing her thoughts to run rampant. But before it could get too out of hand, she felt the need to
speak and end the silence.

“I guess we should get to work, then.”

“Y-yeah . . . that would work.”

They both took their seats and began to look through the notes that the two of them had taken
when the class was covering the subject. Hermione was scribbling furiously against her parchment as
Harry just stared blankly at his notes. She noticed his lack of progress and looked up to him.
“What's wrong?”

“I just feel that I should be doing something more. Outlining notes that are already to the
point seems kind of bleak and boring, don't you think?”

“Well it's the only way I know to start off the project . . . anything in mind?”

He looked to be deep in thought until he spoke again with a smile on his face, “I think we
should do an act.”

“An act?” she questioned.

“Yeah, like a skit with all of the correct information and such. We'll have a narrator, a
witch of course, and some angry villagers throwing fake torches into the fake fire.”

“It's going to be fake, then?” I asked with a smirk.

“No . . . we're going to burn you alive and eat you with freshly cut pineapple and cinnamon
seasoning.” His sarcasm was evident.

“Yummy.” She replied. It was a few seconds until she realized the significance of his reply.
“Wait, me?”

“Well yeah. Who else would play the cunning witch faking her own death?” He asked with a
smile.

“I don't know, Harry. I don't like attention much.”

“It'll only be for a five minute presentation . . . *please*?” He looked at me with his
eyes open wide and lower lip puffed out. Strange that he would know her only weakness.

“Not the pout . . .”

“Yep, the pout.” He smirked.

Hermione sighed. “I hate you . . .”

“No you don't.”

She let out a growl, “Fine, I'll do it.”

Harry settled the dispute with a smile and started to scribble on his piece of parchment. “I
thought you didn't want to take any notes.”

“I'm not.” He saw Hermione's confused look and laughed, “I'm writing a script, you
didn't think that we would just make the whole thing up?”

“Oh, alright.” Hermione nodded and began to read the book that she had checked out of the
library the day before on their subject. Kind of ironic that she was reading it in here since she
checked it out to be able to read in the seclusion of her room.

The evening was spent like that, the both of them writing and studying about their report until
Hermione let out a loud yawn. Harry looked up from his parchments (he was a very fast writer,
although most of the writing was scribbled out in big splotches of black ink) and forced back a
smile. “I guess that's our signal to go to bed.”

“Oh am I a signal now?” She stifled another yawn.

“You got it. Now let's get you up to bed before you collapse, `Mione.”

Hermione, no matter how tired she was, furrowed her brow as he helped her pack up her things and
ease her out of her chair. Only when she was balanced with Harry's arm around her waist did she
speak, “`Mione?”

“Yeah . . . what you don't like it?”

“N-no . . . it's just different. But in a good way.” Even though she couldn't see his
face she knew he was smiling.

They made their way up to the Gryffindor Common Room in silence, Hermione slipping on her own
feet or a loose carpet piece more than once. They somehow made their way to their destination right
before Hermione thought she might collapse. She was only faintly aware of the portrait opening and
Harry kissing her cheek goodbye. Somehow she made it to her dormitory and collapsed on her bed,
instantly falling asleep when her head hit the pillow.

~*~

He knew that he shouldn't have given in so easily. Damn testosterone. When Cho just
approached him in that corner where he was getting in some last-minute studying before he went off
to meet Hermione he didn't know what to do. Push her away? Ha, that was a laugh; definitely
not. He had been pining over this girl for Merlin knows how long. Hermione could wait.

But when Hermione gave him that look . . . Harry knew that he had to end their brief encounter,
no matter how pleasurable it was. When he looked Hermione in the eyes he was immediately overcome
by guilt. She deserved friend then one who would be thinking about skipping their meeting for a
quick snog with another girl. A very pretty girl, with lovely lips that felt so good upon his . .
.

These thoughts were what plagued Harry when he was atop his bed that night. The many different
emotions and feelings were overwhelming on his already exhausted mind. He didn't think he would
ever fall asleep until he began to see a smoky figure coming towards him, swaying her hips almost
seductively. She reached where he was standing and he could make out her face . . .

*“Cho” he whispered.*

*Cho nodded her head and leaned towards him slightly and he met her lips with his. His arms
wrapped instinctively around her waist as he pressed their bodies together. Her lips felt better
than they had the last time, her tongue even more.*

*Their lips devoured each other and he felt the scene spinning around him. He heard voices
around him conversing in relaxed conversations. He pulled back from Cho slightly to make sense of
the change, but when he looked at her fully he found a pair of cinnamon eyes staring back at him.
That was definitely not Cho.*

*Her hair was down in curls and a mask covered the majority of her soft face. He looked down
and found that he was dressed in his costume from the Masquerade ball. He looked into her eyes
again and claimed her lips with his. This kiss was different . . . softer and less rushed. Tender,
almost.*

*He felt her trying to pull away so he moved his hands to her face to hold her face to hold
her more securely against him. She seemed very eager to end the kiss. He felt warm droplets on his
cheeks and he pulled back. She was crying.*

*“`Mione . . .” he mumbled. She was shaking her head, looking anywhere but him. “`Mione tell
me what's wrong.”*

*She looked up to him and his heart broke. Her cheeks were stained with rolling tears and her
shoulders were shaking. “I trusted you.” She mumbled, “I trusted you and you b-betrayed
me!”*

*The last sentence left Harry so shell-shocked that he didn't even notice her moving away
from him until she was well into the crowd. He followed her, trying to find her among the many
masked guests. It was a difficult task, certainly. He reached the end of the room and found a door
slightly ajar and followed the dark corridor within.*

*He heard sobs from in front of him. He broke into a sprint to find the source of the broken
noise. He noticed a figure against a wall, leaning up against it for support. He did this. He made
her cry. But why* *. . . h**ow?*

*He slowed down his steps and tried to walk silently as to not disturb her and set her off
again. He was right behind her and could see the white material of her dress cling to her shaking
body. She looked so frail and weak . . . and it was all his fault. But what did he do?*

*He placed his hand on her shoulder instinctively and she jumped from surprise at the contact.
She turned around quickly and met his gaze. Her tears were still running freely down her face and
they seemed to be pouring out at a quicker rate than before. Harry reached up and brushed the tears
away with his thumb, she flinched but didn't restrain from the contact. He found himself begin
to smile until he notice her body start to fade. She was gone.*

Harry woke up with a start. His breathing ragged and sweat making his nightshirt stick to his
upper body. He looked around the room and let out a breath of relief. It had only been a dream. A
nightmare. A nightmare which made absolutely no sense . . . He glanced at the clock beside his bed
and sighed. Four A.M.

*Well there'**s no use going back to bed* *now,* he thought as he pulled off
his duvet. He quickly slipped into some trainers at the foot of his bed and began to walk out of
the dorm. He listened for the snoring from his classmate's beds and quietly opened the
door.

He made his way through the familiar dungeons lit with the enchanted green flames. Kind of eerie
once you think about it; but he was used to it by now. The empty corridors didn't have much
effect on him, either. This path was too familiar to shiver at the darkness and cold chill that
came from the charms in effect. Harry walked the many staircases until he found the entrance to his
getaway. He sighed in content.

He climbed the last of the stairs with ease as he pushed open the wooden door. It squeaked
loudly and he cringed at the high sound. The cool air had a calming effect on his still
sweat-stained body. It didn't feel like early February to him. He placed his hands on the edge
of the tower and looked down at the dew covered grass below. Harry turned around and leant up
against the hard surface. He didn't even have any time to react when he saw a figure on the
other side of the tower.

-->



7. A Change of Perspective
--------------------------



Chapter 7

*Stupid Ron, stupid* *closet, stupid lack of wand . . .*

As anyone who walked by Hermione Granger could see (not that there was any, being nearly four in
the morning), she was very distraught. Another nightmare had woke her up. But considering her last
vivid one, it wasn't half bad. But that didn't mean it made her even more stressed than she
already was.

She climbed the stone steps to the Astronomy Tower with ease and pushed the creaky door open,
letting the cool breeze blow at her face. The coldness of late February had never bothered her in
the past; it had always had a calming effect on her. This was no exception.

She made her way to the far corner of the tower and allowed herself to sit on the edge of it.
She bent her head back and let the calmness of the silent tower overwhelm her as she closed her
eyes. The moment was ruined, however, with the familiar sound of the tower door opening and
shutting with an appropriate bang.

*Oh god,* she thought, *I'm so busted.*

She was about to make a move to run for it until she saw the shape of a familiar boy standing
not even a yard away from her. “Hermione?” he asked her.

She felt herself tense . . . the person who was going to turn her in knew her. *Just perfect,
no**t only will I receive detention for just wanting to be relaxed, but I'll be
embarrassed, too. Way to go, Granger.*

“Y-yeah.” She said, the slight breeze no longer making her calm. The figure walked a few more
steps towards her and she felt herself relax. “Harry.” She breathed in relief.

“Yeah.” He said with a smile.

“What are you doing here?” she found herself asking.

“I could ask you the same question.” He responded. Hermione felt herself blush and look down,
averting his eyes. “Although . . .” -she looked back up- “If I know you as well as I think I do, I
don't have too. Bad dream?”

“Yeah . . . how did you know?”

He smiled, “I'm pretty good at reading people.”

She mirrored him, “Do you want a medal or something?”

She heard him chuckle and felt her mood lift considerably. Looks like she had to take a rain
check on that detention. “Now don't go boosting my ego like that, things could get messy.”

She snorted, “Messy? How so?”

“I might do some stuff without caring about the consequences.” He responded. She could sense the
seriousness of his voice, but he hid it well with his remaining smile. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” She said, scooting over to make room for him. He jumped up onto the other side of
the corner so that their legs were bumping. “So is that why you're up here? You couldn't
sleep either?”

“Something like that.”

She felt herself nodding, “A lot on your mind?”

He chuckled again, “Oh yeah.”

“Anything you want to share?”

He looked over at her with an indescribable look on his face, as though contemplating whether or
not to tell her something. “I don't want to dump anything on you . . .”

“Oh its fine, I found that I'm a pretty good listener throughout the years.”

He smiled, “Alright then, but don't say I didn't warn you.” She nodded; a motion for him
to continue. “It's this damn feud.” She felt something tug in her stomach. “It's just so .
. . stupid, ya know? My best friend won't even talk, let alone *look* at me and I feel as
if I have to prove something to everyone, just to stop them from judging me. This school needs to
get new hobbies and stop ruining people's lives.”

Hermione felt herself smiling at his words, “My opinion entirely.”

“It's as though . . . life as we know it is ceasing to exist. Two houses feuding over
something that has been resolved for years. I just wish I would have listened to Sorting Hat when
it said I would have done well in Gryffindor . . . but *no,* I had to be stubborn and want to
be placed with my friends.”

Hermione was gaping at him, “You were going to be sorted into Gryffindor?”

He nodded, “Yep, and now I regret not following my instincts.”

“Well there's no use regretting something that is in the past. There are a lot of things I
wish I could do differently, but I know I can't change what has already been done.”

“Very wise, Granger, I'm impressed.”

She laughed, “They don't call me a know-it-all for nothing.”

“True. But there is more to you then you let on.” He said, his expression turning serious.

“No there's not.” She said, shaking her head slightly.

“Yes there is.” His tone made her look into his eyes and she found herself being drawn into his
gaze. “There are more important things than books and cleverness, and you're smart enough to
know that . . . but you're too scared to let anyone see that side of you because you don't
want to get hurt.”

“I-”

“There's no use denying it, `Mione.” He said, leaning forward, “You don't like taking
risks, fearing the consequences.”

“I can take risks!” she exclaimed, making him smirk at her.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you're pushing me away.”

And he was right, she wasn't letting him in. She was leaning away at his attempts to limit
their proximity. She would show him who couldn't take risks! She began to lean forward slowly,
seeing him doing the same.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Proving a point.”

They were barely an inch apart, she could feel his breath on her face, and his arms begin to
move up her legs. Her eyes began too close and her breath hitch as she leaned the rest of the way
into his embrace.

Their lips had barely touched when they both sprang apart at the sound of the door once again
banging open. She felt herself grow hot as her gaze was drawn to the door where she could make out
the figure of a thin man and what looked to be a small cat at his feet.

“Shit.” She heard Harry mutter. “Quick, over there!”

He pulled her off of the ledge and led her behind a thick pillar. His body was pressed up
against hers as he struggled to make it no body parts were visible to Filtch's eyes. She
struggled to even her breaths with the breeze to disguise them further, Harry catching on and
following suit.

Their attempts were futile, it seemed, as they heard the pitter-patter of small paws come closer
to their hiding place. The shadow of Mrs. Norris became smaller and smaller as she approached the
pair. Her small figure and yellow eyes became visible as she meowed her master over to the pair of
teenagers who looked flushed and out of breath . . . there was no doubt what he would think when he
saw them.

Their suspicions were confirmed as they saw Filtch himself approach them and give them each a
disgusted look. “Get up you!” he shouted at them. Harry shot Hermione an apologetic look as he
untangled himself from her and led them both into the bath of moonlight. “Potter . . . fancy seeing
you here again.”

Hermione made a move to protest his allegation, but Harry grabbed her arm and slowly shook his
head at her. He looked at Filtch threateningly, “No doubt at all. But what are you going to do
about it?”

Filtch didn't look very disgruntled at his statement as Hermione did. Apparently this was
the usual exchange between them or something close to it, for Harry didn't even flinch when he
responded with one curt word, “Detention.”

Hermione, however, tensed next to him at this statement. Looks like detention was back on after
all. “Let's go, lovebirds. We have some forms to fill out.”

Harry and Hermione (she, very reluctantly) followed him down the flights of stairs into his
small, messy office. Hermione had never been in here before and she was thankful, for if she was a
year or two younger she would have been frightened out of her wits end at the dark shackles hanging
from the ceiling and threatening dark atmosphere.

Filtch rummaged around in his desk, making a sort of cluttering noise, until he pulled out two,
crisp sheets of parchment and set them on his desk to fill them out, muttering to himself.
“Inappropriate public display of affection . . . yes . . . out of bed after hours . . . Potter . .
. Granger . . .”

He handed them each a copy of the parchment with his chicken-scratch writing spelling out all of
their misdeeds. “Your heads of house's will hear of this and set the date of your detention
location and time . . . if only I was still head of punishment giving . . . I'd have the both
of you hanging from these here shackles.” He finished his rambling with the jerk of his thumb
upwards. “Now off to your dormitories, before I make it a week's worth of detentions!”

Hermione didn't feel up for a whole week's worth of scrubbing desks or whatever they
made her do, so she set out for the exit at a speeded walk. She heard someone following her and
turned around to find Harry looking at her with an incredulous expression. “Are you alright?”

She would have liked to say `No! You just gave me my first detention of a lifetime for doing
something that we didn't even do! Of course I'm not bloody alright!' but instead
settled for “Yeah, Harry . . . I'm fine.” He was right, she didn't take risks.

*Like you weren't about to kiss him-Not you again . . .-**Yes, me, and we both know
that you can take risks if you want them to happen-That's not true!-Oh yes it is, you don't
want to yell at Harry . . . but you sure as hell wanted to kiss him-I was going to prove a
point!-Right . . . whatever you say, Granger-Thank you!-You're not welcome!*

“Are you sure?” His voice asked again. “You don't look very well.”

“I'm just tired.” She lied. After that nightmare she didn't really feel up for bed.

“Oh, alright. Do you want me to walk you to your dormitory?”

“No.” she said firmly. She could see his face contort to one of disappointment and immediately
felt guilty. “I mean . . . no thank you. I don't want to get you into more trouble then
you're already in because of me.”

“Hey, I came up to the tower all by myself ya know.” He argued.

“I know, but I just want to be alone right now.”

He nodded, “Alright, well . . . I'll see you on Monday, then.”

“Right.” She said quickly. She turned quickly towards her destination and began to set off at a
fast stroll, watching as the first bit of sun peaked out from behind the Forbidden Forest.

When she reached her dormitory she found that it was already five-thirty and sighed. She might
as well get ready and finish up her assignments for the weekend. So with that in mind she took her
shower, groomed herself, and set back down to the common room to finish up her essay for
Charms.

~*~

Monday came quicker then Hermione wanted it to.

After Transfiguration was finished, Professor McGonagall had called for her to stay behind after
class. She more then had an inkling of what this was about. She walked up to her desk with a solemn
look on her face and stood in front of her head of house.

“As you know very well, Mr. Filtch has informed me of your early morning activities this past
Sunday.” She began in a stern voice.

“Yes ma'am.” Hermione replied.

“You also know that it is up to me to decide your punishment.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Your detention will take place this Thursday evening in the dungeons with Professor Snape; you
will be assisting him in cleaning his equipment.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Very well . . . you may go.” She motioned for her to leave with a simple wave of her bony hand.
There was no statement about how disappointed she was with her, but Hermione could tell by the way
her emotionless eyes bore into her. Her bag draped over her shoulder, she made her way to the
common room to get her supplies for History of Magic.

She bumped into someone in her haste to get out of the room, however. She straightened herself
and looked into the person's eyes that had been blocking the doorway. A familiar curtain of
fiery red hair obstructed her face, but Hermione knew who it was immediately. “Ginny, I'm so
sorry!”

Ginny looked up and smiled at her. “It's no problem, but I think you should walk with me to
the common room, I'm feeling a bit dizzy now. What *exactly* do you have in that bag of
yours?”

Hermione chuckled at her humorous tone and replied, “Sure, I was on my way there anyways.”

The pair of them began to walk the distance to the portrait hole in silence. It was short-lived,
for Ginny had spoken up with a very smug expression on her face, “So you got detention, huh?”

“You were eavesdropping?!”

“It's what I do.” She said with a dismissive wave. “Anyways, what was it for?”

“'Inappropriate display of affection and being out of bed after hours.'” She said,
quoting Filtch's mumblings.

Ginny looked affronted, “Scandalous, Miss Granger. Who with?”

“Flobberworm.” Hermione spoke.

Ginny looked at Hermione with a cocked eyebrow, “What, is that your pet name him?”

Hermione just smiled as she pulled open the portrait the rest of the way to allow herself and
Ginny to step through. “Nope. The password, genius.”

Ginny snorted and followed Hermione into the common room. Hermione had made a habit of setting
the supplies for her next class in a hidden cupboard ever since first year, so all she had to do
was open up the door to the cupboard and jam the contents into her bag. Ginny waited for Hermione
to resurface before leading her to the couch and repeating her question in a hushed tone so as not
to be overheard.

Hermione leaned in towards her and spoke simply, “Harry.”

“WHAT?!” Ginny yelled, earning the attention of the few occupants of Gryffindor tower.

“Shh!” Hermione scorned, “We didn't do anything . . . Filtch just thinks we did.”

Ginny looked at her with wide eyes. “Are you crazy? If you two were caught by anybody else . .
.”

“We'd be as good as dead, I know.” Hermione finished. “But we weren't, so it's
alright.”

“No, Herms, it's not.” Ginny said, “You're treading on dangerous territory here. Even if
you didn't do anything, that wouldn't stop people from assuming the worst and making your
life a living hell.”

Hermione sighed, “I'm well aware of the consequences, Gin.”

“Then why are you still doing this? Why aren't you protesting your inconvenient partnership
with Potter, the Slytherin Prince?”

“Because this whole feud is ridiculous and I generally *like* him. Slytherin or not,
he's my friend.”

“This is heavy, Herms . . . but if you're willing to risk it . . .”

“I'm not risking anything!” Hermione whispered reverently, “It's just the right thing to
do. Any normal person would.”

Ginny shook her head, “No, they wouldn't. A normal person wouldn't risk it. This feud
isn't going to end anytime soon. Hell, the school is still in an uproar over this
assignment.”

Hermione let out a breath, “You're wrong.”

Ginny cocked a brow, “Am I?”

Hermione got up and out of her seat haughtily and threw her bag over her shoulder. “Yes, you
are.” Hermione then stormed out of the common room and made her way to History of Magic.

She wasn't a risk-taker. Anyone with a right mind wouldn't let a dumb feud come between
her and her perfect grade point average. *And Harry,* her mind added. Yes, and Harry. She was
so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't have time to fight back when she felt a pair of
hands pull her into an empty broom closet.

A hand was over her mouth, preventing her from screaming for help. She couldn't see who her
captor was until they lit the space with their wand. Platinum hair . . . grey eyes . . . smug
expression. Draco Malfoy. She struggled against his firm grip of her, he had pressed her into a
wall and was looking rather determined about something.

“Look here, Granger, we both know what you're doing is wrong so I'm going to make this
little confrontation quick and simple. *Stay away from Harry.* Ever since this dumb assignment
he's been becoming less and less frequent around us and more around you. So stop filling his
brain with your polluted thoughts and just get lost. He doesn't even like you; he's just
sticking by you for the sake of the assignment. A smart idea, though . . . He's going out with
Cho Chang and has no time for mudbloods like you.”

The tears in Hermione's eyes were beginning to pour out and he wrenched his hand from its
place on her mouth. “You'll be sorry if you cross my word, Granger. Mark my words.”

He left just like that, leaving Hermione a pile on the floor, wracked with sobs and feeling as
though all hope was lost now. He didn't want her around . . . Cho Chang . . . Ginny was right .
. .

He was just using her for a good grade. He didn't care. Cho Chang, Cho Chang, *Cho
Chang!* Fine. If he only wanted her for a grade, then that was all she was going to be to him. A
partner. Not a friend . . . not something more . . .

She made her way out of the closet slowly as the bell began to ring, signifying the start of
class. Hermione walked numbly the rest of the way to the classroom, her feet dragging behind her.
She opened the door to the classroom and made her way to her seat beside Harry, not looking him in
the eyes. Professor Binns had yet to enter the classroom, so she had no reason to be worried about
another detention. Harry must have been aware of her shaken state, because he nudged her gently in
her side and spoke to her gently, “Are you alright, `Mione?”

She was about to burst out and tell him everything, but she felt eyes on her and turned to see
Malfoy mouthing to her `Or else.' She faked a smile and responded numbly “I'm fine.”.

-->



8. Very Drastic Measures
------------------------



Chapter 8

Something was wrong with Hermione . . . Something was wrong with Hermione . . . *Something was
wrong with Hermione!*

He set his quill down when he realized the attempts of finishing his essay were moot and sighed.
Hermione had been avoiding him for the past week and he still had no idea why. The only time he
ever saw her was when they were working on their projects, and even then she refused to acknowledge
him for more than a few seconds at a time. He was losing her.

It wasn't as though he didn't know this would happen; but he thought she was different;
special. But she was, oh was she ever, which was why Harry found this so hard to believe. He
couldn't convince himself. Hermione wasn't the type of person to change her opinion of a
situation that quickly. And besides, he had a distinct feeling that she liked him too much to let
their friendship go that easily, which brought him to his earlier conclusion. Something was wrong
with Hermione, and he had to find out what.

He picked himself up off the black leather couch, flinching slightly when he felt the material
sticking to his bare arms. “Where do you think you're going, Potter?” he heard a voice call to
him. He flinched again.

“Bugger off, Draco; I'm not in the mood.” He replied, continuing his path towards the
exit.

Draco, however, had different plans; he blocked Harry's path with a swift step towards him
and smirked. Harry sighed and crossed his hands in front of his chest in annoyance.
*Ridiculous,* he thought.

“Now you wouldn't be off to see one Miss Granger, would you? Because from what I've
heard; she isn't as fond as she used to be of your presence.” The tone of his voice was odd. He
didn't even sneer or show any sign of disgust while saying her name. It came off of his tongue
as smoothly as it would have if he were mentioning the weather. Harry brow furrowed, that
wasn't right.

“And how would you know, exactly?”

“A little birdie told me, of course. This school lives off of drama and gossip, or haven't
you noticed by now?” Harry had to resist the urge to smile. This was no longer his friend, but a
person who disgusted the ground any Gryffindor walked atop of. Of course, he had always been this
way, but it took Harry a small assignment to notice it. He would not give him the satisfaction of
his friendship, nor his retained ability to make him smile.

“Sorry, I've been a bit pre-occupied.” He replied coolly. This seemed to swipe the air of
confidence that had been surrounding Draco since the moment Harry discovered his presence in the
room from underneath his feet. *Don't smirk, don't smirk,* Harry scolded himself.

“Oh, right, of course. You've had to have been keeping Cho occupied, haven't you?” The
smirk was back, the air accumulating around them.

Harry gritted his teeth, “You know well enough our relationship was over a week ago.”

“Wow. Even getting the school's biggest prude to open up and get into your trousers
isn't enough to sedate the great Harry Potter. And I thought I was low.”

It was a low blow, no doubt about it, but Harry had to get out of this room. He had to find
Hermione. He had to get rid of this wanker. “Not that this isn't fun . . . but I have a book to
find.” Lying; a man's best friend. He pushed past Draco with a slight bump of the shoulder and
exited the dark common room.

The walk to Gryffindor Tower was a long one, to say the least, but he considered it worth it
considering the circumstances. He received the regular odd few glances from passing students, most
likely thinking about why a Slytherin like himself was wandering theses high floors so far from his
kinfolk. He had been tuning out those glances since first year, so a few odd weren't nearly the
trouble they had used to be. At least he knew it wasn't because of his scar anymore.

The portrait hole was closed, of course, by the painting of the rather large, pink-dress
wearing, lady with a slight smile upon her face. This wasn't going to be an easy feat. He
stepped up to the woman and felt her gaze drift to him as he halted in front of her. “Password?”
she asked him.

“I, uhh . . . I don't have one.” He explained lamely. Harry saw her eyes flicker to his
emerald and silver tie as comprehension flooded her features.

“Sorry, dear. No password, no entry.”

He thought that would be the case. He had to think of another way to get in. It wasn't
likely that an incoming or out coming Gryffindor would hold open the portrait for him to enter.
There had to be some way to break this barricade . . . some method to gain entry to the secluded
room. Then again, she might be in the library. . . .

He turned around, away from the stubborn, password-greedy entrance, and made his way to the
library. When he arrived, he began searching every nook and cranny of the many aisles. Every back
room was empty, every corner, every single chair was un-occupied. *Well,* he thought, *now
we'll know who's going to fail their exams.*

Harry even went as far as going up to the front desk and asking the wound-up librarian, Madame
Pince, if she had seen her recently. Her reply went something along the lines of “Mind your own
business, you hooligan!” He knew now *never* to ask her for help again.

He knew Hermione wasn't a very outdoorsy person, so the grounds were ruled out. Classes were
over for the day and sunset was already in progress, so a classroom was out of the question as
well. It looked like his original theory was right. *Now to think of a way to surpass the Fat
Lady* *. . .*

He pondered all the way back to the tower. It hit him as soon as he was in seeing-distance of
the entrance. He strut towards the lady and stood there, staring at her for a moment to get her
attention. She looked rather annoyed. “And what do *you* want?” Her tone confirmed his
assumption.

“To get inside, of course.” He replied as curtly as he could muster without giving away his
plot.

The lady cocked a brow and chuckled in amusement. “You'd have to have the password to do
that, love. And I don't think anyone of this house would let you inside with a white flag.”

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. He straightened up his composure and stepped forward,
earning a confused glance from the lady. He continued to move towards the portrait until he was a
breath away. It wasn't until he raised his fists that she caught onto him. “LET ME IN!” he
yelled while pounding the sides of the portrait loudly. “LET ME IN!” he repeated. He made sure to
avoid the lady's form and aimed for the landscape surrounding her, as to not cause any harm.
This didn't help her from becoming increasingly angrier at him.

“You insolent boy, stop hitting my portrait! You really think they'll hear you in there?!
Ouch- that was my *toe!”*

Ignoring her complaints, he continued his attack until he felt the portrait shift a bit towards
him. His hands immediately fell and he straightened up his back as he looked to see who had
answered to his calls. The red hair gave her away instantly.

“Hullo Ginny.” He said brightly. She didn't look pleased, an almost identical look to the
lady beside her.

“And *what* might I ask are you doing harming our safe keeper?” Her hands were now at her
hips and she was glaring at him. He thought he might catch fire under her intense gaze. This
wasn't going to be easy.

“I was hoping to speak to Hermione, is she in there?” he asked hopefully, trying to glance
behind her back into the common room.

“Yes she is here, and no you may certainly not speak with her.” She replied, her face turning a
dangerous shade of red. She looked about ready to slam the portrait hole, when Harry surprised her
and placed a hand on the portrait and forcing her to stay put.

“Why not?” he asked persistently. He wasn't going to give up his search knowing that she was
a few meters away from his mere form. His search would be a bust, a flop. He needed to talk to her.
He needed to find out what was wrong.

“Other than the fact that you are a Slytherin and your mere shadow inside of the common room
would cause an uproar that neither of us wants to happen for risk of expulsion,” -he nodded,
understanding- “she doesn't want to see you.”

His stomach dropped, his eyes bulged, and his mouth was agape. Needless to say, he was shocked.
He knew for a fact that it was a lie. Something was wrong, Damnit, and he was going to find out
what it was! “You and I both know that is complete and utter bollocks, so I would just let me in
before I get physical.”

She looked affronted, but straightened herself up before stating in a whisper, “No. I might be a
girl, but I'm not afraid to put up a fight and protect my friend's word.”

“That may be so, but I'm also her friend and need to talk to her. It's urgent.” He
retorted, his temper with the fiery red-head building. He didn't want to pick a fight either,
but if it meant getting some answers, then he was going to do it.

“What? Did your owl die and you need her comfort? Newsflash: She-Doesn't-Want-To-See-You!”
Her face was as red as her hair. It was quite a scary sight, in his opinion.

“Look,” he said, softening his tone, “I really need to talk to her, I don't want to fight,
and I sure as hell don't wanna take very drastic measures to ensure that my need is fulfilled.”
His voice was hoarse and it seemed to have the effect he wanted. Her red face was returning to its
normal pale and freckled state, her hands unclenching, and her face softening.

“I'm pretty sure you already surpassed the drastic mark.” She said, motioning to the
portrait separating them. He chuckled as her face changed to one of curiosity. It suited her much
more than her original state. “You really like her, don't you?”

His face broke into a grin, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“And it's not just an act?” she asked, her face cocking to the side.

“No. No, of course not, why would I act-?”

“Don't tell me, tell Hermione.” She said with a serious face, her demeanor changing to one
of urgency.

“What, why-”

“The sixth years girls dormitory is directly parallel to the Quidditch Pitch.” She spoke in a
whisper. “I think it's high time you and your Quidditch skills are used outside of the field,
don't you?” she added with a smirk. Harry nodded and smiled in understanding, but before he
could speak she spoke again, “And be sure to be careful, it's almost curfew.”

“Yeah . . . yeah, I will. Thanks, Ginny.” He said with a smile to her. It looked like his plans
wouldn't be moot after all.

“Please set her right, Harry. She's been a wreck for the past week.” She said as she closed
the portrait hole. As Harry turned and took the first of many steps to the Entrance Hall, he heard
the portrait open yet again and a voice call out in a small voice, “Good Luck.” He looked back to
give his thanks, but found only the scowling face of the Fat Lady looking towards him. He thought
it best to leave before he got into any trouble.

He praised himself on his luck on the way down. He thought for sure that at least Filtch and
Mrs. Norris would catch him in his compromising position. But no, he didn't even get as much as
a slap on the hand. Well . . . he would have if the Fat Lady had the ability to reach out of her
portrait. He never felt more thankful for portrait enchantments in his life.

He reached the hall without much trouble (Peeves singing his usual `Potty Wee Potter' song
didn't count much in Harry's book, seeing that it was a normal occurrence). The cool breeze
was relaxing as he opened the doors to step quietly outside. “Accio Firebolt.” He called into the
night.

Within seconds, his beloved broom flew into his hands and he was off. He soared up above the
first couple floors where he knew he might be spotted and made his way towards the Quidditch Pitch.
As he saw the familiar field come into view he slowed his broom and angled himself so that he was
completely parallel to it. He looked straight ahead and saw a single large window located on the
large tower he knew to be Gryffindor's. He flew straight ahead until her was a foot away from
the window.

He saw a familiar bush of cinnamon-brown hair pass the bare window and felt his stomach knot up.
There she was. She was so close to him. All he had to do was get her attention. “Hermione!” he
called out. She didn't even flinch. “HERMIONE!” he screamed, but immediately covered his
mouth.

Light could be seen coming from a door below, the familiar form of Filtch and Mrs. Norris by his
side exiting out of it at a jog. Ginny hadn't been kidding when she said to be quiet. It's
not like he didn't do this before, but he still could be rather passive when it came to
precautions. He steered his broom the shadow under the window of the dormitory and tried hard not
to move. He wasn't going to let Filtch ruin his plan. Oh, no.

He could hear Filtch's muffled voice below and could swear he heard his name being
mentioned. He let it pass. Sooner then he thought, Filtch seemed to give up and retreat back into
the castle. Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he came out of his
hiding place and tried to think of another way to get Hermione's attention without risk of
another detention. And then it hit him.

He lifted his wand and summoned a few pebbles from the grounds below and started to toss them at
the window, each making an audible click as they met the glass. He saw the figure he knew to be
Hermione stop and approach the window. Smiling, he threw the last pebble and steadied himself on
his broom.

The window opened and out popped the head of the person he had just risked himself for. He met
her eyes and blurted out, “Hermione, Hermione, where for art thou, Hermione?” He heard her snort as
she gave him a small smile. He was making progress.

“A Winter's Tale.” She said. Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“What?” he asked her.

She snorted again, “That's how I got my name, `A Winter's Tale', a Shakespearian
play. Kind of ironic since you just quoted it and didn't know the correct definition of what
you are saying. `Where for art thou' means `why are you', and I told you.”

Harry couldn't repress the urge to laugh at her explanation, “Only you, Hermione.” His
laughter died out when he saw that Hermione was no longer smiling. Her happy demeanor was replaced
with a fallen look that reminded Harry of the reason he was here.

“Why are you here, Harry?” she asked, as if reading his thoughts.

“Ginny told me you were up here. I need to talk to you.” He explained.

“I can't talk to you, Harry. I'm sorry.” She said in a monotone, making a move to close
the window. Harry put a hand atop of hers to stop her. She looked up and met his eyes, sending
shocks though his body.

He cleared his throat before he spoke, “Why not?” She didn't answer him, only looked down at
the stone wall. “Hermione, answer me, please.”

“I can't.” she said, picking her head up, “I just . . . can't” She tried to pull away
from his grip on her hand, but Harry's strength won out as he gripped her hand tightly in his.
He heard her take a sharp intake of breath and tried to get her to look at him by tugging at her
hand. She looked up and he saw tears swimming in her eyes. He felt his heart break.

“Please, Harry, please don't make me tell you.” She said, visibly fighting the tears in her
eyes. Her struggle made him want to envelope her in the warmest hug he could muster, but he had a
feeling she wouldn't let him near her. He had to change that.

“Hermione, I have to know. You've been avoiding me for a week and I miss you.” -She looked
pained when he said this- “Why, Hermione? Why did you put our friendship on hold? Did something
happen, did someone say something to you?” Hermione choked a sob. He had said something. He was
getting closer. “Come with me.”

She looked at him as though he was crazy, “What?” she asked.

“Come fly with me. We can talk . . . about everything.” He pressed.

He saw the thought passing through her features. She was thinking about it! *That's always
a good sign**,* he told himself. He watched her struggle with herself a bit, wiping at the
tears with her free hand. She looked up at him and he held his breath, waiting for her to answer
him.

“Alright.”



-->



9. Once or Twice
----------------



Chapter 8

Hermione had had a very stressful week. Avoiding Harry had been a harder feat then she imagined.
She never thought that he would be *that* hard of a person to ignore. If what Draco had said
was true, Harry sure was doing a hell of a good job of acting the polar opposite of his
allegations. But that's just what she expected him to do. Chase after her, his perfect grade
looming in his thoughts. Wanker. It didn't help matters when she was attending her detention
with Professor Snape. That just sent her thoughts into a tailspin and made her question her
judgment twice as much.

*She had entered the dungeons approximately ten minutes before the detention was scheduled to
begin, hoping that she could somehow weasel out early so that she could finish up her assignments
before bed. But, unfortunately, Professor Snape had other plans. As soon as she set her things down
atop of a desk, he lifted his head* *from its position looming over his desk and smirked
towards her.*

*“Ahh, Miss Granger.” He looked towards a corner of his desk, where she assumed a clock laid,
and looked back up to her, “You are a full ten minutes early to this detention? Eager to get it
over with, are we?”*

*Hermione remained silent as she took her seat. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but your
eagerness only earned you ten more minutes of cleaning my potion vials and placing my ingredients
into them.” She held back a groan, as she got up out of her seat and walked towards Snape's
desk.*

*“Where do you want me to start?”* *she asked him, trying hard to avoid his gaze.*

*“You can start by going over to that cauldron full of water and washing the vials on the desk
next it until they sparkle.” He said, pointing next to a bubbling cauldron next to his
desk.*

*“Yes, sir.” She replied as she walked over to the cauldron and got started. And that's
how she spent the first fifteen minutes of her detention, scrubbing his precious glass vials. She
had to hold back a gag when she discovered residue of a rather questionable nature inside one of
the larger vials. She was so transfixed by her work that she felt her heart leap out of her chest
when the door of the classroom opened, emitting a soft squeal.*

*It was only when she steadied her ragged breathing that she turned back to her work. She
wouldn't let some intruder interrupt her detention; she would finish her work and get the hell
out of there as fast as she could. She heard Snape emit a grumble from behind her and tried to
shake it off, but when he spoke, she froze.*

*“Ah, Mister Potter, how nice of you to join us”*

Holy. Shit. *He couldn't really be here, could he?* *She had done such a good job of
avoiding him so far! Hermione resisted the urge to crane her neck to take a peek at him. He was the
guy who was using her. The guy that she was upset at to the highest extent. The guy that she would
forgive in a second if she let her guard down. She had to remain calm for sake of her sanity, if
not for her own good.*

*“Since you so carelessly neglected to show up on time to detention, I shall have no trouble
holding you the five extra minutes you spend lollygagging about.”*

That's odd, *Hermione thought,* He's criticizing and punishing one of his own
house. *Hermione had never seen him be rude to him in Potions class, which they so conveniently
had together. Usually Snape would praise his house and demean the likes of the others. So why would
he be mean to Harry, a member of his own house, for a matter he would most surly overlook if they
had been late to class?*

*“You may take a seat next to Miss Granger; she can explain to you what you must do for the
remainder of your time. Other than that, I expect to hear no talking between the likes of you
two.”*

*“Of course, sir” She could sense the sarcasm of his remark and resisted the urge to smile; it
would only weaken her wall.*

*“Mind your attitude, Potter, or I shall hold you an extra five minutes.”*

*“I'm trembling in my socks, S**nivillus**.”* Snivillus?

*“Call me that again, Potter, and you'll be facing a whole week's worth of detention
with Filtch and his shackles.” Apparently Harry had hit a nerve, for there was nothing kidding
about Snape's allegation. Why were they giving each other such a hard time?*

*“You think that scares me? What would be scary was if you actually took a big handful of
shampoo and decided to wash your hair. That's a sure sign of the apocalypse right there.”
Hermione could sense his smirk and let a small breath of laughter escape through her nose. It was
funny because it was true.*

*“Take your seat, Mister Potter.” Snape said through clenched teeth, “We'll discuss your
amount of punishment later.”*

*“Looking forward to it” Harry said with mock triumph. Seemingly pleased that he had
out-witted the Potions Master. It didn't seem to be much trouble, though. All it was were a few
well-worded hair insults and a rather bizarre, yet totally appropriate, nickname. “Snivillus” Harry
murmured as he took his seat next to Hermione**.*

*“What was that, Potter?”*

*“Nothing, nothing at all” Harry replied, scooting his chair closer to Hermione then she was
comfortable with. “So what are we doing?” he asked her in a whispered tone.*

*Hermione took a deep breath and answered as bluntly as she could, “Wash the vials, then place
the proper ingredients into them when they are all cleaned out.”*

*“Seems easy enough.” he said, grabbing a dirty vial and soaking it in the bubbling
water.*

*“Mmm” Hermione replied as she continued her work. They continued like that for the next few
minutes, picking up where Hermione had left off in cleaning the vials in silence. Hermione thought
that she was getting off easier than anticipated when she felt Harry nudge her slightly in the
side. She took a sharp intake of breath and continued to scrub a rather large green vial.*

*“Psst, `Mione.” He whispered to her.*

*She made no motion that she as listening, when in reality she was hanging on every word. With
those few syllables, he was breaking down her carefully placed wall. She thought it would be easier
to ignore him. What Draco said was so blunt and carefully worded that she thought her hatred of him
would be enough to push him away and keep him there. Apparently he had a greater effect on her then
she thought.*

*“`Mione!” he whispered more loudly.*

*“I said no talking!” Snape scorned the two.*

*Harry seemed unphased by his tone as he kept poking Hermione in the side of the stomach. She
squirmed a bit when she hit her tender, more ticklish spots, and finally gave up and turned her
head to glare at him. “What?!” she whispered, hoping not to be overheard by Snape. Unlike Harry,
she was very much afraid of the dark professor and didn't like the idea of more detention then
she deserved.*

*Harry seemed taken aback by the way she answered his pleads for attention, “Are you alright?”
he asked.*

*Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes. If only he knew. . . . She focused her attention back to
the vials as she answered to his concerns. “I'm fine. I just want to finish this
detention.”*

*“I've never heard that one before. It's usually `Damn, I can't wait to get out of
here, Harry. Please distract me!'”*

*Hermione bit back a chuckle. She knew he would be more open to talk to her if she had some
sort of response to his jokes-no matter how lame they were. The less he talked, the easier it would
be on her and her wall. “Yeah, well not all of us have the courage to stand up to the teacher and
earn detentions that will end up on our permanent records until we graduate.”*

*He snorted, “You're so superficial. You need to live a little.”*

*“And you need to grow up!” Hermione instantly regretted her outburst as soon as she said it.
He was silent behind her. She had hit a nerve. She had actually* offended *him.* It's
for your own good; you're better off without him. *Hermione knew that wasn't true, but
she couldn't* *let herself give into him again. He would only use her again.*

*“Not all of us can have the mind of a shriveled old maid.” He whispered tensely to
her.*

*Hermione instantly whipped her head in his direction, a comeback on the tip of her tongue.
The only thing stopping her was the shadow over her shoulder. She instantly shut her mouth and
turned to face the annoyed professor, a fearful expression crossing her face.*

*“When I said no talking, I meant it, Miss Granger. One more outburst on wither of your parts
and you will be facing detention until the end of your school careers.” With that, he stalked off,
leaving a pale-faced Hermione and an unphased Harry in his wake. It was safe to say that they were
silent the rest of the time. But that didn't stop Harry from trying to get her attention,
probably to apologize. That was the kind of guy he was. But Hermione had to hold onto his last
comment, soak it for all it was worth, in order to muster the strength to ignore his not-so-subtle
attempts at getting her attention. It was a low blow, so it wasn't hard to do . . . but with
his elbow making contact to her side, his hand waving in front of her face . . . he wasn't
making it easy on her.*

*“Miss Granger, you are free to go.”*

*Those words released her from the hell that was Harry. She bolted up from her seat by the
cauldron and desk piled with full vials of potions and gathered her possessions as fast as she
could without seeming to obvious. Her attempts were futile, however. She felt Harry's eyes on
her back until the moment she closed the heavy wooden door to the classroom, even then not feeling
his gaze lift from the door until she was well down the corridor.* *She left detention that
night confused, flustered, and very much out of breath from the run to her dormitory.*

Ginny had found her in her dormitory that night, crying her eyes out into her pillow. She
spilled everything to the redhead, including the information that Harry was using her for his own
gain. When asked how she came into knowledge with this information, she lied, saying that she
overheard Harry bragging it to his classmates. She knew Ginny would somehow find Draco and curse
him within an inch of his life if she found out what he said and how he said it to her. She
didn't even want to think of the consequences he had mentioned if she had told anyone.

It had been a week since then and every History of Magic class, she was forced to converse with
Harry about the assignment, but that was all their conversations were based on. Every time he tried
to change to subject, she would bluntly change the subject and bolt out of the classroom as soon as
the bell had rung. They hadn't met in the library since `that day' when Hermione was faced
to face the truth. She knew his friendship was too good to be true, there had to be some background
on why he had warmed up to her so quickly. Every night she had gone to sleep crying, Ginny trying
her best to comfort her loss of a friend.

And so here she was, facing Harry outside of the dormitory window, having just agreed to ride
with on his room and talk. She didn't know what made her say it, but with him floating outside
of the window and his desperate pleas for her to talk to him it was too much to resist. She knew
she was in for it as soon as he made her snort with his Shakespearian reference, and she was
right.

The gravity of the situation hit her as soon as he grinned. She had just agreed to ride a broom.
An actual *broomstick* . . . with *Harry.* She gulped as she lifted herself on the small
bench that resided beneath the window and opened t wider as she prepared to lift herself onto his
broom. *Just forget about the height and the fact that you're only source of safety is a thin
stick and you'll be alright.* She told herself. Harry flew the broom closer to her, so that
it was halfway inside the dormitory. She smiled in thanks as she mounted it slowly in front of him.
They both adjusted to the new positions they were in by Hermione leaning into Harry's front
more snugly and Harry placing his arms around Hermione to grip the broom in from of her. With their
positions adjusted, the two of them flew off into the distance, neither aware of the smirking girl
in the doorway behind them.

Hermione closed her eyes tightly as soon as she felt the broom take off. Harry leaned in and
chuckled when he saw her. Hermione opened one eye and scowled, “Not all of us were born to be
Quidditch stars.”

“Not all of us are afraid of heights, either.” He replied amusingly.

“I am *not* afraid of heights!” Hermione tried to deny. She opened both eyes to see him
cocking a brow at her, and she sighed in defeat. “Alright so I might be a *little* afraid of
heights.”

“A little . . .” he said skeptically. She was about to answer him when she felt Harry tint the
broom and send them plunging down towards the forbidden forest. She let out a high pitched scream
as she saw the ground fast approaching them.

“HARRY!”

He laughed as he straightened out the broom and sent them gliding smoothly upwards, a highly
distraught Hermione breathing heavily. “A little, huh?” he stated, completely amused of the
situation.

“I-Hate-You!” she panted/screamed at him. His response was a smirk as he leveled out the broom
and breathed out a puff of contentment. Hermione seemed to have calmed down as well, as she had her
breathing evened out and her back un-tensed. They stayed like that for a while, just flying through
the clear sky, completely relaxed.

“So do you want to talk now?” Harry asked after what seemed to be an hour of silence.

Hermione's back re-tensed as she turned to look him in the eyes. She saw the pleading they
were emitting and took in a sharp intake of breath. “I guess I have to, don't I?”

“You could say that.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked. She knew it was a stupid question, but she didn't
want to jump into any explanations and give too much away that she wasn't supposed to.

“Well, first off, why you're ignoring me.”

Hermione turned back to gaze at the sky as she let out her breath in a small puff. She leaned
into Harry's chest and began to explain the confrontation with Malfoy; she felt his chest
contract beneath her as she retold her experience with him. She felt tears want to escape, but held
them back, wanting to see his reaction without the effect of her tears. When she was finished she
looked back at him and saw that he had his jaw clenched and was looking at the starry horizon.

“Harry?” she asked.

He didn't speak for a moment, as though still absorbing the story she had just told. But
when he did speak, it was so full of emotion that she let a tear escape. “I'm going to kill
him.”

“Please don't.” she pleaded, “He said there would be consequences if I ever told anyone.
*Especially* you.” His expression softened as he looked down into her eyes.

“So what do you want me to do about it, pretend that he never said those lies?”

Hermione hesitated a moment before she spoke reproachfully, “So it's not true?”

“Of course not! Hermione, I care for you, I really do. I would never use you -nor anyone else,
for that matter- for my own advantage, especially if it meant hurting you and our friendship.”

Hermione didn't even try to stop the tears as they flowed freely down her cheeks. Harry
looked pained to see her cry, wiping away the tears with one of his hands, the other securely
keeping them afloat. Hermione smiled reassuringly, silently telling him that she was okay. He
smiled back in response and looked back at their path in the sky. Hermione looked around curiously,
trying to see if any of their surroundings were familiar. She could only see trees. “Harry, where
are we?” she asked him.

“If you look ahead, you can see that we're fast approaching Hogsmeade Village.” And sure
enough when Hermione looked towards the distance, she could see the rooftops of the familiar town.
Harry smiled down at her, “Feel like a warm butterbeer?” he asked.

Hermione looked up at him in worry, “Won't we get in trouble?”

He chuckled, “Don't worry, Hermione, I've done this once or twice before and you
don't see me expelled now do you?”

Hermione just rolled her eyes and looked back at the fast-approaching village. After about five
minutes, Harry tilted the broom for a soft landing on the gravel below. Hermione felt her feet
touch the ground while Harry let the broom hover above the ground to let them both slide off
without trouble. They had landed curiously in front of the Three Broomsticks, but when Hermione
turned her questioning look towards Harry, all she saw was him smirking at her and she was silence.
He then moved his hand above the broom and an opaque blue shield surrounded it. This boy worked in
mysterious ways.

They entered the bar to a few curious heads lifting up to smile in greeting to the two young
students. “How ya doin', Harry” she heard a distant voice ask from a table to their left.

“Alright, Abe.” He answered curtly.

“How've you been, Harry? Who's the pretty girl?” Another voice asked from the bar,
causing Hermione to blush an appropriate shade of pink.

“Fine, Ethan.” He replied, ignoring the question to Hermione's name. Ethan looked unphased
by his answer, as though he was expecting him to ignore the comment altogether. This led Hermione
to wonder if Harry had done this before. By this she meant if he had ever taken a girl to a bar
after hours just like he was now. She felt Harry tug on her hand slightly with his own as he led
them towards the far side of the bar, well away from the other customers.

The bartender, Madame Rosmerta greeted Harry with a toothy grin like the others and approached
the two with swift ease. “The usual, Harry?”

“Two, please.” He replied with a nod.

Rosmerta smiled and disappeared into the back. Harry turned his barstool towards Hermione and
she looked at him with mock-amusement. “Once or twice, huh?”

“Did I say one or twice? What I really meant was three or four.” He said seriously. The two of
them burst out laughing at their poor attempts of a serious conversation and looked towards the
other.

“So what's the usual, then?” Hermione asked in curiosity.

“Rum and hash brownies, of course.” Harry replied with a smirk. Hermione hit him playfully on
the shoulder and he rubbed it, pouting a bit. Hermione rolled her eyes as she waited for him to
sober up. “Alright, you caught me. It's a butterbeer and these truly *excellent*
scones.”

Hermione cocked a brow, “I didn't know the Wizarding community served scones.”

“But of course. My favorite is the lemon-poppy seed, but I usually get the lot anyways.” He
said, licking his lips in anticipation. As if on cue, Madame Rosmerta approached them with two
butterbeers and two plates of scones in hand. They both said a polite `thank-you' and began to
consume their orders.

Hermione sighed as if in heaven when she bit into her first scone. Blueberry, with a hint of
glaze on the surface. Harry looked at her, transfixed with her consumption of the snack food. When
Hermione looked up to meet his gaze she asked, “What?”in curiosity. But instead of the cool mood
she was going for, her cheeks turned red as crumbs of her scone spilled out of her mouth. The two
of them started laughing, Hermione covering her mouth to prevent the crumbs from leaking out of her
mouth again.

“You truly are a piece of work, Hermione.” Harry said as he took a sip of his butterbeer.

“How so?” Hermione asked as she wiped her mouth with a napkin from beneath her plate of
scones.

“You are a know-it-all bookworm, totally obsessed with following the rules and determined to
have a clean record. Yet here you are, fresh off of an after-curfew broom ride in a local bar with
me.”

“Hey, it's mostly your fault! You've had a very bad influence on me.” Hermione confessed
weakly.

“Is that really such a bad thing?” He asked.

“Yes!” she giggle-yelled. Harry laughed at her outburst as she continued, “I was a perfectly
well-rounded student a person until we got paired up!”

“Oh *sure* you were . . .” Harry said sarcastically.

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. Of course she was! How dare he insist that she
wasn't! “And what makes you say that, Mister High-and-Mighty?”

He chuckled, looking down at the bar, then back at her dramatically. “All of those impure things
you've said about one Mister Ronald Weasley doesn't help your cause.”

Hermione's eyes widened, “That's totally different! He deserves it!”

“That may be true, but it still proves my point. You, Miss Granger, were well on your way to
non-perfection before you even met me.” He said with a smirk, confidant that he had won the
battle.

Hermione had different ideas, “I never said I was perfect!”

“It was implied!” he countered.

“Yeah . . . well . . . *nice hair!*” She shouted back, causing him to double over in
laughter. Hermione, too, couldn't resist the urge to join him. It was a rather awful
comeback.

“That was the worst comeback in the history of comebacks!”He accused, now midway sober of his
fit of laughter.

“I know. But I couldn't think of anything else to say.” She confessed meekly, taking a bite
of a crème cheese scone from her half-eaten plate.

“Really? I highly doubt that.” Harry said, mocking her action and taking a bite of a raspberry
scone, looking pointedly at her.

Hermione took a chug of butterbeer before answering his call. “Oh, Miss Perfect can't give
up a fight once in a while? It's a lot of work to keep an argument going, especially one with
Mister Wit himself.”

“Mister Wit, huh?” he asked, clearly amused with his nickname.

“Yeah! Don't think that I wasn't suppressing the urge to laugh when you were telling off
Snape!”

“Oh, old Snivillus?” Harry said, waving his hand in a breezy motion, “That's nothing, you
should see what I'm like on my good days.”

Hermione giggled, picturing Harry and Ron bickering in the Great Hall. She had snuck a peek
behind her in order to hear a few well-placed insults and Ron sulking in defeat. That had been a
good day. “What's up with you and Snape, anyways?”

“What do you mean?” He asked in curiosity.

Hermione looked at him seriously, “Well you and him really seem to hate each other. I find it
odd, since you're of his own house that he would make such drastic threats as to get you
punished for calling him a few names.”

Harry chuckled, bowing his head so his bangs where covering her view of his eye. He shook his
head slightly before resurfacing and brushing the stray hair out of his eyes. “You really want to
know?”

She nodded in response.

Harry adjusted himself in his seat, half leaning on the bar. Hermione had a feeling this was
going to be a very intriguing story, so she crossed her legs and placed her ands atop her lap,
gently laying her head in her hand. She was ready to listen. “Well, way back when my Mum was a kid,
her and good `ol Snivillus were friends-if you could call it that. He told her that she was a witch
and became her only companion when she came to Hogwarts. My Mum was raised by Muggles, like you and
me, so it was good that she had someone to explain the Wizarding World to her. Well, through the
years, my Dad and his friends continually teased him, called him Snivillus and such, and one of the
only people to defend him was my mum. Snape was always jealous of my dad. His Quidditch skills, his
fascination with the ladies, and later, when he had my Mum. He fell in love with her.” He spat the
last part in disgust as Hermione gagged and giggled at the same time.

“Do you want me to continue?” he asked.

“Even though my curiosity is filled . . . I think you should.”

Harry smiled as he continued to fill Hermione in. He told her about when he saw Snape's
memory in fifth year, how Snape vowed to look over him in his love for Lily, the prophesy. Hermione
was in tuned the entire time, not interrupting in his epic tale. Harry even went as far as telling
her how he defeated Voldermort that past summer and Hermione felt so much pity for him, but was
still in awe. How could such an innocent boy see so many horrible things?

When he was done, both he and Hermione let out a steady breath. “Well, that surely wasn't
what I was expecting when I asked you that.” She said jokingly. They both laughed at that.

“Alright, enough about me, tell me about you.” He said, leaning forward.

“What do you wanna know?” she asked, mocking him.

“Let's see . . . favorite color?” he asked.

“I've always liked purple.” She replied.

And it went on like that for hours, the two of them exchanging childhood stories, answering
silly questions, and enjoying each other's company. By the time they were well out of stories
it was nearly two o'clock in the morning. “Oh wow.” Hermione said, “I didn't realize it was
that late.”

“Me either” Harry replied, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Maybe we should go, then.” Hermione suggested, making a move to get up.

Harry grabbed her by the wrist and shook his head. “Not yet, I wanna do something first.” He
said. He whistled loudly and gestured to Madame Rosmerta, who came over willingly and stood by him.
“Could you get us two more butterbeers, please?”

“Of course” she said with a smile. She disappeared into the back, but before Hermione could ask
anything, she returned with Harry's order and set back to cleaning tables.

“What are those for?” Hermione asked curiously as Harry un-capped the bottles. Smoke emitted
slightly from the top as he handed one to her.

“Ever participated in a chugging contest?” he asked with a silly grin on his face.

Hermione smiled slightly, “Once or twice.”

“Then you know the rules, I presume?” She nodded her head as Harry counted down from five with
one hand and held his butterbeer close to his lips with the other. Hermione watched his fingers
carefully, counting down in her head, matching their movements. When his hand formed a fist, both
started to chug their drinks, heads up and minds concentrated on winning.

Hermione felt the smooth liquid slide down her throat and she placed her bottle down on the
wooden bar and smirked in victory. Harry finished his just a millisecond after her bottle collided
with the smooth surface. He looked at her curiously, one eyebrow cocked.

“Did I say once or twice? What I really meant was three or four.”

Harry just smiled as he took out money from his pocket and set it on the table to pay for their
things. Hermione made a movement to protest, but Harry just shook his head, “It's no
problem.”

She made no more indication of protest as he led her out into the night. His broom was exactly
where they had left it, untouched. His waved his hand a second time and the shield lifted as he
mounted. He extended a hand to her and helped her mount back in front of him. They adjusted their
positions as they were when they had left the girl's dormitory, but this time, Harry grabbed
Hermione's hands and placed them beneath his own at the front of the broom. Hermione looked
back at him curiously as he smiled. “Why don't you lead us back?”

Hermione froze, “I-I couldn't.” she said nervously.

“Yes, you can, it's simple. Just lift up gently and even out when we're above the
rooftops.” He instructed. He then tugged on her hands slightly, encouraging her to lift them up.
Hermione took a deep breath and complied, hand slightly shaking. Harry noticed this and smiled in
amusement, placing his lips by her ear and whispering in her ear, his lips just barely touching her
earlobe. “Relax.”

With his lips upon her ear, she only felt all the more nervous, but as he removed them and
placed his head on her shoulder, she felt her body do just that. Relax. She lifted them up higher
until they reached the tops of the village shops and townhouses. “Now even it out.” She heard him
whisper. She obeyed once again and they took off towards Hogwarts in the distance.

After the first few minutes, Hermione began to become very at ease with the ride. She loosened
her tight grip on the handle and let her body mold into Harry's. She even sped up slightly when
Harry asked her if she wanted to. Harry laughed into her hair. She felt herself get tired as they
neared the castle. She fought the slight dreariness and flew the broom to her window, which was
thankfully, still open.

Hermione turned towards Harry and whispered, “I'll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah.” He replied with a smile.

The broom was back at its place in between the dormitory and the outside world. Hermione
dismounted the broom with surprising ease and made to kneel on the cushioned bench. “You realize
I'll have to continue ignoring you until we think of the solution to the `Malfoy
Problem'”

“Yeah, but we'll still have our days in the library. Draco hardly goes in there unless
he's looking for me.”

Hermione smiled, “How about tomorrow, then? We have a lot of work to do before we're
finished.”

“I'm looking forward to it.” Harry said leaning forward on the broom.

Hermione smiled, “Goodnight, Harry.”

“G'night `Mione.” Harry said as he kissed her cheek gently. Hermione felt herself blush as
she waved him off. As soon as he was out of sight, she closed the curtains and left a crack open in
the window, wanting a slight in the vacant room. The rest of the house was downstairs, playing
witness to a chess tournament that would probably last a few more hours.

Hermione changed into her pajamas and washed up in the bathroom before she headed towards her
bed. But when she got there, she found her curtains drawn all around it. *That's odd,* she
thought as she drew back the heavy velvet hangings. She was just about to get into her warm covers
when she saw a shadowy face, smirking up at her from a comfortable position atop her pillows and
comforter.

“Have a nice flight?”

-->



10. Obsession is One Step Away From Passion
-------------------------------------------



Chapter 10

The red hair stood out from the dark shadows of the curtains. Hermione felt relived for a
moment. *It's only Ginny,* she thought. She let the smile spread slightly on her lips and
pulled the curtain back the whole way, her heart rate returning back to normal. She turned back
towards Ginny and stopped. That was *definitely* not Ginny.

“What are you doing here?” she asked shakily as she backed away from her bed, “I thought you would
be down with the others”

“My place is already secured for the final round, so I figured I would pay my favorite girl a
visit. Imagine the shock I felt when I saw that your bed was not only empty, but the horror when I
saw you being led back through the open window by none other than *Potter*.” He replied with a
slight sneer to his lips.

Hermione felt her breathing pick up its pace as he shifted on the bed. “You have no right to be up
here, let alone lay in my bed! How did you get up here, anyway?”

“Potter isn't the only one with a broomstick and knowledge of where the girl's dormitory is
located.” He replied with pride, motioning over to a corner where Hermione saw a beaten-up broom
resting.

“Yeah, if you could call that thing a broomstick; looks more like a twig with a fancy name etched
into it if you ask me.” Hermione said smartly, smirking down at him. She felt her heart well up
with pride as she saw Ron's face redden, a new air of confidence taking over her once nervous
demeanor.

“Not all of us are spoiled brats with an unlimited bank account and no sense of selflessness when
purchasing items he *knows* will make people envy him even more than they already do. He's
just an attention-thirsty wanker.” Ron looked so sure of himself as he put his hands behind his
head and smirked up at Hermione with a look as though he had won the dispute already.

Hermione, however, was beginning to turn red; giving the shade Ron wore not ten seconds ago a run
for its money. “You have *no right* to say that! It just so happens that the broom was a gift
from his godfather, you insensitive prat!” Her voice was rising with every word she spoke, her
temper along with it.

Ron saw the nerve he had hit clearly and became instantly aggravated. If she was that upset at him
from making a small comment about Potter's selfishness, how mad would she get if he kept
pushing the barrier? Would she still put up a fight, proving her loyalty to him, or step down and
admit defeat? Ron knew Hermione wasn't as strong as she put out that she was, so he decided to
push it. Hard. “I have *every* right to say that! He makes his business *everyone's*
business by being in the press almost every bloody day! In fact, I wouldn't doubt that you and
he will be in the papers tomorrow for you little midnight flight! `Harry Potter and His New
Conquest Take Moonlit Broom Ride, Seen Fucking Under Trees After Drinks'!”

“It's not as though he *asked* for this attention! He hates it more than you know! He just
wants to be normal!” Hermione defended, walking up and poking him violently in the chest for
emphasis. Her temper was now at full heat and she wasn't going down without a fight. There was
only one thing he could say to have her back off, and she was confident that she would win this
fight long before it was needed to be put in use.

“Normal? Ha! He could never be normal if he tried! He has the evidence etched on his forehead for
Merlin's sake! Not even dying would sedate the fame of him! It's enough to make anyone
sick!”

“Voldermort killed his parents, Ron! He didn't die because his mother would rather *sacrifice
herself* than have her only son be murdered! He grew up in a pit of loneliness his entire
childhood until he was thirteen and moved in with his godfather! Imagine not having your mother
tuck you in at night, your father not telling you stories of him and his friend's escapades at
school!” Hermione felt tears pouring down her cheeks as she retold Harry's story. She had only
just found out all of these things, but the impact of it didn't hit her until she was shouting
them out loud, defending Harry.

“Oh boo-fucking-hoo, he had no parents! I would *love* to have no parents. No one to scold you
when you come home late from a party, to baby you when you want to be treated like a bloody adult
for once in your life! He has the picture-perfect life in my eyes, and he makes a habit of rubbing
it in everyone's face!”

“Oh and how does he do that? I don't see him parading around Hogwarts singing, `I have no
parent's and I still have a better life than you! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, *HA*!”

“It's implied! He struts about the castle, gets away with *everything;* scratch-free… he
acts like he fucking owns the school and people love him for it. They are throwing themselves at
his feet, begging him to grace them with his presence. The birds jump him and plead for him to fuck
them! And now, you're one of those birds, fucking the great Harry Potter! How did it feel? Was
it better then when w-”

“Shut up, Weasley!” Hermione screamed, “What me and Harry do is none of your business, and you
should know better than anyone that I don't just jump into the sack with just anyone, I'm
not a whore!”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Ron said cockily.

“In case you haven't noticed, I-I-I'm *not* a whore!” Hermione couldn't think of
anything to say to his cocky remark, cursing herself inwardly for her lack of any spontaneous smart
comebacks on her tongue. She, instead, settled on her knowledge of definitions. “A whore is someone
who is considered sexually promiscuous. And I can assure you that I am *not**,*
especially with you*!*”

Ron smirked at her and got up off of the bed, towering over the hot-headed Hermione. “You seemed
pretty promiscuous th-”

“Don't you *ever* associate me with that again! I thought I made that clear that day! Do
it, and I would make sure you wouldn't have children! Don't think I won't fall through
on that threat!” Ron visually gulped and Hermione felt a weight being lifted off of her chest. Now
that that was out of the way, he had nothing else to put her down with. “Now, if you don't
mind, I would like to go say goodnight to Ginny.”

As Hermione made her way to the exit, she felt Ron take a few steps towards her, but kept towards
her path. “She still doesn't know does she?” he asked. Hermione stopped in her tracks and
turned towards him. She shook her head with a confused look on her features, wondering what he was
playing at. “Well… it would be a shame if I let slip of our little encounter to her young
ears.”

Hermione's breath was caught in her chest as she struggled to speak, “Y-you
wouldn't…”

“Oh, wouldn't I?” He asked as he approached her. He began to circle her as she glared at the
wall opposite her, trying her hardest to keep her composure.

“What do you want, Ron?” she asked.

“You know what I want.” He answered simply as he began to play with the hem of her jumper. She
shivered at the cold feeling his fingers brought to her skin. She flinched away from his touch and
he laughed. “It's funny I didn't think of it until now…” Hermione bit back a response that
was on the edge of her tongue, fearing she would only hurt the situation more so then she already
had. “If you be mine… I won't bother telling Ginny or even-” he spat the next part,
“*Potter* of what happened. Although, if you agree, which I'm sure you will… they will
probably assume the worst anyways.”

“You're sick!” Hermione spat as she looked into his cold, blue eyes. Eyes she used to think
were quite endearing when they were younger. She was a warm-blooded female for Merlin's sake!
Thirteen with hormones, need the situation be explained more? But now all those eyes made her feel
was fear. Fear of what he was forcing her to do, fear of what would happen to her and those who
cared for her if she didn't agree.

“Sickness is one step away from passion.” Ron said softly as he began to fiddle with the curls of
her hair between his fingers.

Hermione slapped his hand away quickly, “That's obsession, you twit! Which is what you are
slowly becoming, obsessed with something that happened *years* ago. What makes you think
I'll agree to your stupid proposition?”

He chuckled, “It *was* a pretty stupid thing to do… but that's not the only leverage I
have on you, you know. It wouldn't take much effort to walk up to the Headmasters office and
tell him of your midnight broom ride afterhours.”

Hermione smirked slightly, “I thought you said that it would be in the papers tomorrow
anyways.”

“True… but think of the punishment you would get for either. I mean, model student, Hermione
Granger out with Harry Potter, model idiot Slytherin on a *romantic* broom ride at any hour
would surly cause uproar within the school. And remember what Dumbledore said if there was another
brawl… you and Harry would surely be held responsible. Dumbledore isn't one to expel many
students at once. Everyone knows he won't fall through all the way with his threat… but that
doesn't mean he won't rid the school of the source.” Hermione gulped in a large chunk of
air as Ron leaned into her and whispered in her ear, “Is it worth throwing away yours and
Harry's school career all for the sake of *pride?*”

Hermione knew the answer before he even finished the sentence… if he wouldn't have said
Harry's name. She would have easily given up her own, but she couldn't say the same about
Harry. She didn't want her mistakes to affect him in any way; she cared too much for him. She
cared too much to let him go that easily. She cared too much to say yes.

Ron took her silence as an accomplishment on his part. He had broken down the one and only Hermione
Granger. And all he had to do was dangle her (and Potter's…) educational well-being in front of
her face. Rejection was no longer an option for her. She would have to agree. He smiled as he
walked up behind her and placed his hands around her stomach, leaning his head on her right
shoulder and placing his lips dangerously close to her ear. “You won't regret this,
Herms”

Hermione clenched her jaw as she did her best not to push him away from her, “I wouldn't be so
sure of that.”

“Now, now” he scorned playfully, “you wouldn't want me to take that the wrong way. I might end
up-”

“I get it, Ron.” She said interrupted, fuming. She wanted more than anything to shrug him off as
she usually did, but she couldn't do that anymore. Biting her lip to hold back the tears (of
anger or sadness, she didn't know), she took a deep breath and tried her best to relax into
Ron's tight, possessive embrace.

“Good.” He said, grinning from behind her. He turned her around and planted a wet kiss on her
pursed lips. He smiled to himself when he felt her kiss him back hesitantly. *She'll warm up
to me eventually…* he thought with a sick inward chuckle. Ron took his leave from the deserted
dormitory, grabbing his broom on the way out and closing the door with a small creak.

Hermione burst into tears; she couldn't hold them in anymore. How could a perfect evening like
tonight be ruined that quickly? Of all the times Ron could have figured out that he could blackmail
her he *had* to pick now! Now, when her relationship with Harry was finally returning to
normal. *Oh God,* she thought, letting a loud sob emit from deep within her throat,
*Harry!*

She ran to her bed and collapsed with her stomach down, clutching one of her pillows and hugging it
tightly to her chest. Hermione buried her head deep within the fluffy solstice of the pillow and
screamed. She screamed as loud as her lungs would let her through her sobs. Harry would eventually
find out about her and Ron… and he knew how much she hated him. She would have to lie straight to
his face in order to protect him. She knew it would eat away at her insides to do so, but it was
absolutely necessary that she must! She wouldn't let Harry take the fall for anything. She…
she… simply couldn't think anything more about it.

It was then that Hermione lifted her head from its place on (or rather, in) her pillow. She saw the
concave imprint of her face and fluffed out the used pillow, placing it back by her headboard. She
had to suck it up and deal with it. If she didn't, who knows what the consequences would
be?

She got up from the bad and dragged herself into the bathroom. When she saw her reflection in the
mirror, she had to do a double-take in order to recognize her own image. Her eyes were pink and
puffy and her shined of unshed tears. The streaks down her cheeks were smeared all over her face,
making her skin shiny and wet and her lips chapped from her open-mouthed sobs. She turned on the
cold water tap and bent her face down to splash with water, rinsing away any evidence of what had
just occurred.

“Hermione, are you in here?” she heard a feminine voice call from outside.

Hermione hurriedly grabbed a hand towel from its round holster on the wall and hurriedly wiped the
water droplets from her face. “Yeah!” she called. She wiped the last water residue from her cheek
as she heard footsteps come in the bathroom. Turning around, she came face-to-face with a very
distraught-looking Ginny. “Ginny” she said with a confused expression, “what's up? I thought
you'd be downstairs cheering on the geeky chess-players?”

“Well, I was… until I saw my brother sliding down the girl's staircase, broom in hand, saying
her just got done with a heart-to-heart with his *girlfriend*.” She had her arms wrapped
around her chest, a nervous habit of hers. Hermione let out a breath and took a step towards the
red head.

“Ginny, I- I can explain…” she started.

“Oh, *please* do.” Ginny replied sarcastically.

Hermione's head arched back in surprise with her tone, “What's up with you?”

Ginny bowed her head down, looking at the marble tiled of the floor for a moment. She tilted her
head back up, her long bangs obstructing her hazel eyes from view slightly, “You really want to
know?” Hermione nodded her head reproachfully. Ginny sighed as she continued, “There I was,
downstairs, surrounded by about ten blokes, cheering them up after their recent defeats, totally
confidant with myself because I knew my best friend was out with Harry, straightening out their
differences on a moonlit broom ride and most likely snogging at the moment-” Hermione opened her
mouth to speak, but Ginny ignored her attempt and kept talking “but then who should *slide* in
but my bum of a brother, claiming to have a chat with his girlfriend, who I knew to be you, seeing
as Lavender and Pavarti were busy snogging some sixth years.” Hermione was silent, looking at the
floor fixedly. “Care to tell me what's going on?”

Hermione looked up into Ginny's fire-enhanced eyes and felt a sob etching its way in her chest.
She wanted to tell Ginny- she really did, but Ginny didn't even know about… that time. Hermione
and Ron were the only people who knew, and she wanted to keep it that way. But Ginny *did*
know that her brother was an asshole… so it wouldn't be hard for her to believe… but she
didn't know how she would react to it. But if she didn't tell someone soon, or at least say
it aloud… she would crack. So it was decided. She would tell her… everything.

“You might want to sit down…” Hermione suggested.

“Yeah, `cause the girl's toilets are so *sanitary,* and all.” Ginny replied dismissively,
motioning to the row of cubicles behind Hermione. Hermione let a small smile crack on her lips and
started to walk towards the door.

“I guess the dormitory would be best…”

“You think?”

Ginny and Hermione made their way to Hermione's bed, where they sat Indian-styled across from
each other. Ginny remained silent as she looked pointedly at Hermione, silently edging her speak.
Hermione fidgeted with the quilt atop her bedspread and began to talk. Ginny was listening to every
word, placing a hand atop Hermione's when she began to cry. At the end of the explanation, the
girls were wrapped in an embrace and Ginny was holding back a slew of curse words on the edge of
her tongue. When they pulled back, Ginny rubbed Hermione's shoulders comfortingly.

“I knew my brother was an asshole but I never thought…”

“Yeah, I know.” Hermione said, wiping the tears from beneath her eyelids with her thumb. “But you
have to *promise* me that you won't let on that you know. If Ron found out I told anybody
about this, he'll… Merlin, I don't know what he'll do… and I don't want to know.
Please, Ginny, *please* don't tell him!”

“You think I'm an idiot?” Ginny said jokingly, making Hermione snort, “I may not like it, and I
may want to pound his face in, but our friendship… your friendship with Harry means more to me than
any of that… even if one of them is doomed for fucking in the end.”

Hermione shoved Ginny playfully in the shoulder, sniffing and smiling at the same time. Her face
fell after a few moments, comprehension dawning on her face, “I don't even think *that*
even has a chance of happening now.”

“Don't give up hope, Herms… things will even out soon, I promise.”

Hermione nodded, “I hope you're right, Gin.”

~*~

Hermione felt better the next morning, albeit tired. The whole house of Gryffindor was groggy that
morning from the all-night chess tournament. Hermione found out that Ron had won it overall. It
wasn't a big shock.

She successfully avoided Ron that morning at breakfast, getting there early before anyone else
would even think of getting up. She quickly consumed a few slices of buttered toast with strawberry
jelly, a glass of pumpkin juice, and took an apple crisp muffin with her to her dormitory to catch
up on her reading, making sure to lock the window and draw the curtains.

She couldn't avoid him all day, unfortunately, and ended up walking into Potions with a
dampened spirit, knowing that she would see him and most likely sit next to him. But that
wasn't even the worst part… they had class with the Slytherins today. There was no avoiding the
conflict that would ensue that hour.

Hermione took her seat towards the middle of the classroom, emptying her supplies and readying
herself for class. She felt someone's eyes on her and saw Harry at the table next to her,
smiling. Hermione forced a smile back and continued where she had left off. When she looked up
after she had finished, she saw Harry walking towards her, but had someone beat him to her
side.

Ron had come up from beside her, taking the seat next to her and placing his hand around her waist
possessively. Hermione saw Harry's face fall immediately. He looked crestfallen, heartbroken
even. Hermione flinched, as if that look pierced into her skin, burning the surface with a hot
flame. She knew Ron was smirking from beside her, but she dared not look.

“And what are you doing over here, Potter?” Ron asked with a false air of superiority, “Not here to
sweet-talk my girlfriend, are you?”

Harry looked over at Hermione, as if silently asking her to protest his allegations. She didn't
meet his eyes, choosing instead to focus on the grimy tile of the classroom. She heard Harry take a
small intake of breath as he spoke, “Of course not Weasley, that would be rude. I was just going to
ask what time Hermione here wanted to meet to work on our project tonight… you know, for History of
Magic.”

“I am well aware of your partnership. I'm not a moron.” Ron replied coolly.

“Could've fooled me” Harry muttered under his breath. Hermione caught his words and let a small
chuckle emit from her chest.

Ron looked at Hermione pointedly and she stopped, biting her lip nervously. Harry looked at her
with a peculiar look on his face, but tore his gaze away when Ron cleared his throat and spoke,
“Well, go on, then, you're wasting our time and polluting us with your Slytherin scum.”

“Very well, Ronny Dearest.” Harry said with a blank expression. He then turned to Hermione and she
looked over at him, “How does six sound?”

Hermione nodded curtly, “Fine.”

“Alright, well I'll just take my leave, then.” He said.

“Go on, then, shoo.” Ron said with a smirk.

Harry gave the pair one last look before returning to his seat next to Malfoy and across from them.
Ron immediately let go of Hermione's waist and she let out a relieved breath. She was afraid if
he held her any tighter she would faint. It was as though their hips were super glued together.
Hermione rubbed her side as she sat down on her stool and looked over at Ron. He acknowledged her
with a smile and got out his things just as Snape entered the classroom.

“You didn't have to be so cruel to him.” She whispered tensely.

Ron just shrugged and mumbled, “He deserved it.”

Hermione didn't even bother arguing back, not wanting to get on his nerves their first class
together. Hermione stared up at the front of the class as Snape began to give the students
instructions for the Amortentia potion. Hermione was about to say that they had already made this
potion when Snape said halfway through her hand-raise that it was “essential for their N.E.W.Ts and
it would do well to practice it in class and that they should all be thanking him for being so
courteous as to let them do so in his class”. Hermione suppressed an eye roll as she went up with
the rest of the students to get the ingredients for the love potion.

“Get me some, won't ya, babe?” Ron called from behind her, still in his chair doodling
something on his paper. Hermione nodded and stocked up with double potion ingredients, returning to
their table and spilling them onto the wooden surface. Ron moved his hands from his paper to avoid
touching one of the raw ingredients and Hermione caught a glimpse of what he was doodling. She
gagged when she saw the naked form of herself etched on the surface atop a large, familiar bed. She
saw him put away the drawing as she took her seat, starting the potion with a shake to her
chopping.

She felt someone's eyes on her the whole class period, and since Ron was too busy missing his
chopped roots and making multiple cuts on his fingers, she had a pretty good idea about who is was.
Hermione felt tears cloud her vision as she chopped the remainder of her ingredients. She forced
them back and poured them into her bubbling cauldron. While she stirred the potion
counter-clockwise and counted silently to herself the number of times she was doing so, she saw
Harry's face, his crestfallen, shocked, heartbroken face. She kept telling herself that it was
for the best.

Needless to say, she didn't have to pretend to avoid him anymore.

**A/N: Well, here ya go… another epic chapter in my little fic. I hope that you are all pleased
with the outcome as well as I am. Believe me; I had absolutely** **no intention** **of making
Ron that crucial to the story as far as this chapter goes! But it just CAME to me and I
couldn't pass up the opportunity to add a little more drama and angst into the plotline *guilty
smile*. On the plus side, this will probably result in more chapters to the story in an odd sort of
way. Me (and when I say `me' I mean, the characters) having to work out these kinks and all. I
am so sorry for not adding notes to the end of the other chapters, or at least ones like this. I
was in such a rush to post this story that I didn't have much time to do so. And on that note…
thank you so much for this warm reception** **here at Portkey! The first few days the fic is up
and I have more than 2,000 reads! Holy shiznit!! Now if I could have that many reviews, that'd
be awesome… lol. Thanks to all of you who reviewed, it really means a lot! Please keep up the great
feedback! I love you all and hope to find a way to fix my little conflicts in here soon**

**-Shar**

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11. Help
--------



Chapter 11

It was as though his heart had been ripped out and thrown on the floor; the bloody organ pumping
the leftover fluids rapidly and staining the already grimy surface. It was a bit graphic, but that
was how Harry felt at the exact moment that Weasley had come up beside her and grabbed a hold of
her waist. The first thing running through his mind being *Get you paws off, she's mine!*
But then, he stopped. She wasn't his. Sure, they were becoming increasingly close, but that
didn't mean he had a claim on her. But he couldn't help but notice the tug in his gut as
soon as he saw her; and the fast rate to which it dropped to his feet when he saw who had come to
stand beside her.

He made his chat with her (and, unintentionally Weasley) short and sweet, setting the time for
their session tonight and throwing in a few sarcastic comments to rock Weasley off his knocker. It
earned a chuckle from Hermione, so in his mind it was worth it. But he still couldn't get that
*word* out of his mind. It was like liquid poison. It felt like it was being etched into his
brain with a rusted knife. Again, a bit dramatic, but that was exactly how it felt. Those two
syllables were their own killing curse.

*Girlfriend.* She was Weasley's girlfriend.

He tried his best to calm down. Surely, there must be some explanation for this! Hermione
wasn't the kind of girl to jump on the
`I've-hated-this-guy-for-as-long-as-I-can-remember-but-now-I-find-him-sexy-as-hell-and-want-to-shag-his-brains-out'
bandwagon. He liked to think of her as the kind of girl to jump on the
`I-like-you-you-like-me-and-I-still-haven't-forgotten-about-our-kiss' one instead.

*Whoa,* he thought to himself, *where in the hell did that come from?* He dismissed it,
though, as he saw Hermione get up and leave her seat. It took him a second to comprehend that class
had ended. By the time he did, though, the professor had shooed him off and he had to rush off to
his next class. Had he really been thinking about the situation for that long?

Divination was next. The class he had been stuck in since third year and tried *desperately*
to get out of. But, Draco had made him keep on signing up for it. To him it was entertainment to
see at least three people a week get a prediction of death in their tea-leaves, one of whom was
*always* Harry, even after Moldyshorts was gone. To Harry, however, it was the one time of the
day where he could really think about things. It was only a blow-off class, anyhow. And he
*really* needed some thinking time.

He arrived in the fire-warmed classroom and took his normal seat. Draco acknowledged his presence
briefly before turning back into a conversation with Pansy Parkinson, the known Slytherin whore who
had been trailing him since Merlin-knows-when. Harry took out a few books to feign being actually
in-tuned too what they were doing and set his head atop his folded hands and tuned out the entire
class. The voices faded and the faces blurred, he was in his own state of mind.

This strategy worked… for the most part.

“Ah, I see young Mister Potter is *in the beyond*! He has the look of the inner eye about him!
See how his eyes are glazed over? That is the inner eye coming forth from his pupils! What do you
*see* Mister Potter?” The excited voice of Professor Trelawney spoke, shaking Harry from his
thoughts and causing him to look into her magnified eyes and stutter.

“I… uhh… I'm going to die. Yeah. I'm going to suffer a horrible and painful death by cause
of…” He glanced at the quill beside him, “ink poisoning.” He quickly looked back up and kept eye
contact with her until she erupted into a smile, seemingly satisfied —elated, even— at his
answer.

“Yes, just as I suspected. You *are* marked for death again this year, Mister Potter.
Unfortunate… very, very unfortunate, yes. Pity.” She walked away, muttering incoherently to
herself. She didn't look like his predicted death was unfortunate. Yet again… she *did*
believe his ink poisoning excuse. That caused Harry to shake his head with a silly smile on his
face.

Harry felt a playful punch on his shoulder and turned to face Draco openly laughing at him. He
couldn't help but laugh with him. It *was* pretty damn funny. They didn't even stop
laughing until they saw the professor return and pretended to be engrossed with the crystal ball
that was at the middle of their table. She smiled at them while she passed and continued observing
the class.

“Nice save there, Harry.” Draco complimented as he adjusted his seat on his pillow.

“Thanks.” Harry answered. Now that the moment was gone, it was time for the tenseness to set in.
Draco was acting as though they were old friends again, which struck Harry as odd. Not even a day
ago, he was preventing him from “going to the library”. What was he playing at?

“So, did you hear about Granger and Weasley?”

Harry did his best not to punch him. That was the one topic starter he refused to remain calm
about. But he tried. “Yeah”

“I mean it's about fucking time, right?” he asked, smirking.

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Oh, *come on.* Their sexual tension was enough to drive anyone insane.”

“Oh yeah, sure. If you call Weasley groping an unwilling Hermione sexual tension; I'm sure she
just wet her panties over that.” Harry said sourly. He didn't care that he was coming off as
annoyed, he was and there was little Draco could do about it.

“Oh, come on, you're not hung up on that bird, are you?” Draco said with a sneer. “It's
just the Gryffindor mudblood, what's so special about her?”

The fire in Harry's stomach was growing rapidly. He wanted to tear Draco's head off. But he
wouldn't for sake of his sanity. He didn't want to become homicidal just because of stupid,
slimy, Draco Malfoy… his former best friend. But he was also Draco Malfoy, the guy who made
Hermione avoid him for reasons that were completely unorthodox to him… and the guy who was supposed
to believe that he and Hermione were still not on speaking terms.

The sake of Hermione's safety sedating his anger, he took a deep breath and calmed himself.
“No, I just think that they're a bad match is all. I mean, him hitting on her and she
completely blowing him off seems pretty legit to me.”

Draco snorted and leaned forward on the table, “You *really* don't know women, do you? She
was just playing hard to get is all. And Weasley was just showing his affections, though I
can't imagine *why.*”

The urge to bite his head off returned. “Why are we even talking about Gryffindor's anyways?”
He asked through clenched teeth, opening his book and feigning to read a passage,

“You're right.” Harry let out a relieved breath as he continued to scan the page. “Let's
talk about sex.” Harry just rolled his eyes as he pretended to listen to his bitching for the rest
of the class.

~*~

The day went by rather quickly and soon Harry found himself sitting at the Slytherin house table
consuming an overlarge drumstick. The whole time he was glancing over at the Gryffindor table,
torturing himself by staring at the arm around Hermione's waist. Every time he looked over
there, he thought her back would tense up. But he was probably imagining it, getting his hopes up.
Why would she be tense around her… *boyfriend?*** ** He dismissed the
wandering thoughts when they entered his mind. Her love life was none of his business. He was
purely her friend and shouldn't judge her choices, even if they did affect him in the slightest
of ways.

In the middle of one of his “subtle” glances, he heard the hall begin to quiet. His attention was
drawn to the front, where Dumbledore was standing at his podium and looking down at the students
with a small smile on his face. It was a rare occurrence when Dumbledore would make an announcement
in the middle of dinner. They were usually at the beginning, before the food even appeared on the
table. The last time that happened was at the Triwizard Tournament. Harry's ears perked up when
the hall became silent, anticipation pouring throughout his body.

“First off, I would like to thank you all for the quick response.” He said with a smile. “The
announcement I would like to make is in result of your truly exuberant behavior in regards to the
decrease of violence in our school. So I think it appropriate for you to give yourself a hand.”
Harry clapped along with the other students, more so because he knew that wasn't the only thing
Dumbledore had to announce. He just wanted Dumbledore to get on with it. He wasn't one to be
wrong about these things.

After the applause died down, he continued, “Secondly, I would like to reward you for your behavior
with a Seedtime Gambol.” The whole hall seemed to be confused at his announcement. People began to
mutter around him, asking their neighbor about what it meant. Harry sole a glance at Hermione and
saw that she looked horrified. She looked as though she would vomit. Was it really that bad of a
reward? Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, silencing the hall once again. The whole hall was
hanging on his word. If Harry didn't know better, he would've thought that the sick old bat
was enjoying it.

“In other words… a Springtime Ball that is to take place in one week's time. Further
information will be posted in your common room tomorrow morning.”

He could hear the girls begin to shriek with delight and the guys groan in protest. Save for
Neville of Gryffindor, who was fighting hard not to grin with delight. Harry was one of the
majorities of males. He did *not* enjoy dances. Not one bit. He thought they were finished
with those poor excuses for a social event with the Yule Ball! He practically stomped his
date's feet off! And he knew that he would have to get a date in order to fend off the crowd of
girls that usually fawned over him. A name automatically came to his mind and he glanced over to
her seat, but flinched as he saw Weasley give her a wet smack on the lips. Of course they would go
together, *what* was he thinking?

He looked down at his watch and choked on his chicken, it was six-fifty. He quickly packed his
stuff and left his table, ignoring the eyes that followed him out. He wasn't one to lose track
of time, especially since he usually didn't eat much during dinnertime. Damn thoughts running
through his damn head had gotten him all screwed up.

He arrived at the library with two minutes to spare and took a seat at “their” table in the
secluded corner. He would be lying if he said he hadn't had some suggestive dreams having to do
with this closed off area. It was the only part of the library where Madame Pince actually had to
make an effort to come and shoo you out of the corner at its closing time. Very private.

It was a full ten minutes before Hermione got there. But when she did, Harry was too engrossed in
working on their script that he didn't notice until she sat down next to him. The waft of her
lavender perfume made its way to his nostrils and caused his eyes to wander over to where she sat.
Her face was already buried in a book, but her hair look more frizzy than usual. He didn't want
to make any assumptions, so he just ignored his observation.

“Well hello to you too.” He said to her.

Her face lifted up from her book and she smiled feebly at him. “Hi.”

From what he saw of her lips, he caught sight of a slight pink, puffy tinge to them. His stomach
dropped for the umpteenth time that day. They were a couple, *of course* they would snog. “So
I figure about another two weeks on this project and we'll be good as done. We might want to
consider casting a few supporting roles to help it along as well.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” She said, not lifting her head this time.

If Harry didn't know better… he'd think she was avoiding him. He immediately felt as if ice
water was being poured dawn his back. It was as though she were a magnet for trouble. Just last
night, they were talking as if they had known each other for years, engaged in a chugging contest!
Now she was blowing him off? What the hell was this broad's problem?!

*Whoa!* He scorned himself, *Calm down Sparky. You don't know that she's avoiding
you. She's here isn't she? If she were avoiding you, she'd be rushing out of here the
first chance she got.*

“You know, I really should be heading for bed.” Hermione said as she picked up her book bag from
its place on the floor. “I'll see you tomorrow at the same time.” With that she sped off,
leaving Harry in a confused rage. She really *was* avoiding him! And after that long talk they
had, the flirts they exchanged… she was fucking leading him on!

*Stop it, STOP IT!* His mind screamed at him, *you know Hermione far too well to let
yourself believe that bollocks! She obviously has something bothering her. And since she was fine
last night, it must hav**e happened after you dropped her* *off.
* There was only one way he could get the answers he was seeking. There was only one
person who knew Hermione so well and cared for her well-being so much that she would do anything to
help her. Ginny Weasley.

Lucky for him, he caught her on his sprint to Gryffindor Tower. She was about to enter the portrait
hole when he called out her name and caught her attention. She smiled gently at him and walked over
to where he was near the corner of the corridor. He pulled her hand gently and led her into the
shadows, knowing full well what the reaction would be if they were seen talking in the
hallway.

“What's up, Harry?” She asked quietly.

“Look, I know something else is wrong with Hermione.” Through the darkness of the shadows, he saw a
pained look on her features, confirming his allegations. “I need to know what it is so I can stop
it.”

“It's already started, Harry. I don't think there is much we can do.”

“It would help if I actually *knew* what was bothering her.” He hinted.

Ginny sighed and looked around the corner, checking for any eavesdroppers that might overhear their
exchange. Seeing none, she spoke quietly but firm. “Ron came up to her last night and blackmailed
her into going out with him.”

Harry sucked in a pained breath, as though he had been punched in the stomach. “I knew there was a
reason for their sudden… you know.” Ginny nodded in understanding. “What was the blackmail?”

“See that's the thing… I don't know. She refused to tell me. But she did say that it was
enough to make her change her views on the situation and give in. Now she *did* tell me that
he threatened also to tell the headmaster about your broomstick ride, to get the both of you
expelled.”

“How did he know about that?”

“He was waiting for her in her room.”

“The bastard” He muttered.

Ginny nodded in sympathy. “To think that it's my own *brother* putting her in misery makes
me sick.”

“Well there has to be some way to get to her; to tell her that I don't give a shit if I get
expelled or not.”

Ginny and Harry then stood in silence, each thinking of ways to do just that. They wracked their
brains for any small plot to get them the answers they needed to help Hermione out of her hell
hole. It didn't prove an easy feat, unfortunately. They both couldn't think of anything
remotely of any significance until Ginny looked up at Harry and saw the pained, concentrated look
on his face. That was when it struck her.

“Oh my God, I've got it!”She squealed.

Harry looked up into her overjoyed eyes and smiled. “What's the plan?”

She leaned into him and whispered the plan into his ears. He hung on her every word until she
pulled away slowly, studying his face for any sort of reaction. “And you think that'll work?”
he asked.

Ginny nodded fiercely. “She won't be able to resist the pheromones.”

Harry smirked and gave Ginny the tightest embrace he could muster. He was confident that in a
week's time this plan would make Hermione's trouble's melt away. And maybe… just maybe…
help him as well.



**A/N: Sorry for the long update! I've been lacking creativity lately and hope that you fine
people can forgive me! I would like to thank you guys for the ah-mazing reviews** **They truly
bring a smile to my face and I just love hearing your feedback! I'm so glad that this story is
getting your attention! Please continue to leave the amazing reviews and hopefully I'll post
the next chapter soon!

-Shar**

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12. Silence In Slow Motion
--------------------------



Chapter 12

She knew she would regret saying yes, she just *knew* it. But it was already an assumed
fact that Hogwarts's new “It” couple would go together, so it wasn't as if she had much
choice. That's what she hated the most. Ever since this little “thing” started, she
couldn't have been more miserable. She was about ready to throw in the towel after a few days!
It seemed as if life couldn't get any worse. So what if Harry and Ginny knew?

Hermione sighed. She knew that was a stupid question. She knew that they would both probably
abandon her if they ever found out; and that was the only thing that pushed her to hang onto this
nightmare. Nothing would be worse than losing her two best friends. Nothing.

The Spring Ball was fast approaching and she needed a dress. The thing was, she hated dresses. She
hated the frills, the colors, the empire or the princess cut, everything. It made her feel like
such a… priss when she wore them. The only other time she had worn a dress was the Yule Ball and
her Aunt Gracie's funeral; may she rest in peace. Even when she and her family went to Sunday
services she wore tiny pantsuits.

“Oh come *on* Hermione, please!” the pestering voice asked again.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I am perfectly able to pick out my own dress, I'm not twelve!”

Ginny arched a brow and she stared at her best friend. Hermione sighed and turned back to her
assignment, ignoring the persistency of one very determined red-head. Ginny clicked her tongue in
thought as she tried to think of a way to sway Hermione in the right direction. She knew of her
fear of dresses; or, more of a hate of them. Ginny knew there was a girl in Hermione somewhere that
couldn't resist the lure of a gorgeous dress when she saw one, and by Merlin she was going to
pull the little bugger out her nose if she had too!

“How about an ultimatum?” Ginny asked. Without looking up from her book Ginny could see Hermione
roll her eyes, but since she didn't immediately discredit the suggestion, she continued. “I
know that you are dying to get the newest James Patterson novel…”

Hermione immediately straightened and turned to look at Ginny with narrowed eyes, “How do you know
that?”

A small powder blue notebook flashed in front of Ginny's eyes before she answered, “I know
everything.”

Hermione's jaw gritted as she said through clenched teeth, “You read my diary again.”

“A mere glance does not constitute `reading' per se…”

“What else did you read?” Hermione asked with suspicion. Fear also laced her thoughts, but she
chose to repel the inferior thought with an invisible fly-swatter. There wasn't anything too
incredibly embarrassing in there…

“I might have seen a few lines dedicated to the description of a rather recent dream.”

Hermione's eyes widened, “You didn't!”

“No, I didn't. But now I know you're having dreams about Ha-” Hermione jammed her open hand
atop Ginny's mouth before she could finish.

“Do you *want* me to be on death watch?!” She whispered frantically before she took her hand
back.

“Sorry.” Ginny mumbled. There was a small silence before Ginny got a naughty glint in her eyes.
“So… how was he?”

Hermione shoved her in the shoulder “Ginny!” She ignored the butterflies in her stomach as she got
a small flash of her dream from the previous night.

“Hey, don't hate me for being curious.” Ginny said as she smirked at Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to where her papers were scattered on the
small table in front of her. Tried would be a better descriptive word. She felt Ginny's gaze
burning holes in her back and tensed. With a slight turn of her head she saw Ginny looking at her
with the small smirk still on her lips. “What?”

“I'm waiting for the answer to my question.” She stated matter-of-factly.

“You're not going to get one.” Hermione said stubbornly. Another flash.

“Please! The horny fifteen-year-old in me can't stand it!” Another flash.

“No.” Skin; lots and lots of skin.

“It's not like you're the only one!”

“Obviously.” Hermione returned back to her work. The gaze was still on her back, it was like there
were tiny bruise marks forming now. Another flash passed in her vision, this one only of shimmering
green eyes. Hermione put down her quill and turned to her best friend with a defeated look in her
eyes.

“If I go to Hogsmeade with you, will you stop bugging me?”

Ginny's face broke into a wide grin and Hermione instantly regretted the power the small girl
had over her. “That's all I ask.”

She began to pack up her things with Ginny's help. Hermione tried to walk slowly, but with
Ginny on her tail, she was constantly being pushed up the stairs and almost tripped a fair few
times. Only Ginny…

When they got to the room Hermione put the papers in her hand on the small table by her bed and sat
down on her cool mattress. Ginny followed suit and joined Hermione.

“So I was thinking we could head to this little store that just opened up, it's called
`Faire' and has the most ah-mazing clothes according to the catalog I got in the mail last
week!” Ginny said excitedly.

“Sure, Gin, whatever you want.” Hermione replied stiffly.

“Don't be so melodramatic, Herms. I'll make this fun, I promise!” Ginny seemed as
determined as ever and Hermione couldn't help but smile at her dainty face. She nodded as Ginny
bounced off the bed and got her coat. Hermione saw her exit and quickly reached under her pillow
and retrieved her powder blue diary. She flipped to her latest entry and saw the first few words:
*I had the most stimulating dream…*

Of course that entry would catch Ginny's attention. She quickly shut the cover and placed it in
her trunk under the bed. That location would have to do until she could find a suitable locking
charm. She then grabbed her green fleece and headed downstairs to meet her doom- Ginny.

~*~

It was a short trip to the village, only ten minutes. They exited the carriage and headed towards
the shops at a normal pace, to Hermione's delight. Ginny led them to the bookshop first,
shocking Hermione. She then straightened herself out; it was just to butter her up. Ginny stayed at
the front of the store, scanning the many gossip magazines they had on display, while Hermione
headed to the Muggle reading section and studied the `New Releases' section, looking for the
latest installment to her favorite authors literary library.

It took her all but one minute to find her book. Hermione tried to stall as long as she could,
picking up a few light reading books off the shelves as well, ones that looked appealing by their
covers. A black one with an apple plastered on the cover looked especially tempting. But she
couldn't put off the inevitable forever.

She arrived at the front counter, where Ginny was waiting patiently with a pile up to her neck in
magazines, some of which the titles Hermione had never even heard of, ones with exotic faces
plastered on the cover and very suggestive titles for articles. They made their purchases and
Hermione let Ginny lead the way to a store in the distance. It wasn't until they were about a
hundred yards away that she could make out the lavender bricks. She felt the gag reflex kick in at
fifty yards.

Ginny stopped right in front of the entranceway and looked upwards, admiring the shiny golden
cursive lettering. Hermione resisted the urge to sprint away. Ginny hadn't said one word to bug
her since they left the castle, and she would be a lousy friend to back off now.

After about thirty seconds of watching Ginny sigh and look up dreamily, they entered the store. As
soon as Hermione stepped onto the welcome mat, the smell of expensive perfume and marmalade found
their way into her senses. Hermione held back the cough at the back of her throat with a slight
sniff. Ginny turned around, looking as if she was in heaven—and she probably was, in her own little
way.

She grabbed Hermione's hand and led her to where she saw the dress section towards the back of
the store. There were a few familiar faces shopping here as well— Hannah Abbot, the Patil Twins,
and Lavender Brown among them. Hermione felt strangely out of place next to the giggling girls who
were holding up dresses of all variety to their tiny figures and spinning around like they were
already at the ball. Ginny's hand and her feet were the only things that were moving. Her body
was stiff and her eyes remained glued to the dress-filled wall in front of her.

As they came to halt, Ginny let go of her hand and turned to face the frozen face of her friend.
Ginny smiled warmly and patted her shoulder. “I know this must seem very new to you, but it'll
be over before you know it! Just look through these racks and pick out the ones you like. I'll
be by the dressing rooms and you can meet me there and try them on, okay?”

Hermione nodded numbly to her and watched her make her way to the far corner where the dressing
rooms were located. After she lost sight of her, she turned to the racks of dresses beside her and
began fingering through them, uninterested. There were all sorts of dresses hanging there; short,
long, v-necked and small thin pieces of fabric she thought belonged in the children's section,
if the children would *want* to be subjected to pedophiles. A few colors caught her eyes:
green, lilac, and a black. She grabbed each one of them without looking at the price or design and
headed to the dressing rooms, wanted to get this over fast.

Ginny was guarding the stall near the tall mirrors and pedestal in the middle and opened it up to
her when she entered the room. Hermione shoved in there and put on the first dress; the black one.
She didn't even bother to look at herself in the floor-length mirror in the stall, she just
pushed open the door and walked up to Ginny, whose eyes grew wide and her expression turned to one
of horror. Hermione looked down to what she was wearing; it looked fine to her eyes. She stepped
onto the raised ground in front of the mirrors to get a full look and almost burst out laughing;
the dress went down to her ankles and had gold sequins trailing down it at random angles, there
were feathers attached to the sleeves and placed at the bottom hem of the dress.

“Now about you being perfectly able to pick out your own dress…” Ginny trailed off.

“Oh, shut up.” Hermione said before walking down from the mirrors and back into her stall.

She took off the dress and placed it on a hanger labeled “no”. She watched the dress fade with
slight fascination as she put on the next one; the lilac. Lilac had always been one of her favorite
colors, some of the sheets on her bed being of the same shade. It made her feel more homely in this
one. She ignored looking in the mirror again; opening the door more gingerly this time. Ginny had
her back to the stalls, fiddling with her hair in the mirror. It took her a second to notice that
Hermione was standing behind her, but when she did she had to do a double take.

Her face turned to one of shock as she looked at the beauty in the mirror behind her. She turned
around slowly and looked Hermione up and down. It was literally the most beautiful dress she had
ever seen in her life. The lilac brought out the porcelain shine to her skin, making her look like
a delicate doll in the lamp light. The thin-strapped bodice swooped down, letting a peak of her
cleavage show, but not too much as to be revealing; it was covered in exquisite beading, acting as
a low-cut bra over a tulle-like material, covering the rest of her chest. The sheer material that
was below the bodice flowed all the way down to her ankles with a slight tear on one side up to her
knees, making the dress have some sort of sex-appeal, which was just what Ginny wanted Hermione to
have.

“You look… breathtaking.” Ginny gasped.

“I do?” Hermione asked.

“Have you even *looked* at yourself in the mirror?”

“No…” Hermione answered reproachfully.

Ginny grabbed her elbow and pulled her towards the mirrors, forcing her to face herself.
Hermione's breath caught; it really *was* beautiful, for a dress, that is. She fiddled
with the beaded design in the middle and looked over at Ginny. She was grinning from
ear-to-ear.

“So did we find it?” she asked.

“You tell me.”

Hermione took another look at herself in the mirror and smiled gently at the reflection. She felt
like such a… woman in this dress. She took that as a sign that this was, indeed, *the* dress.
Hermione nodded at Ginny and she squealed, jumping up and down loudly and hugging her tightly.
Hermione returned the hug and when they let go, they heard hurried footsteps coming into the
dressing room, probably curious as to what all of the ruckus was about. The three girls Hermione
spotted earlier were standing in the doorway, looking at the two girls with eyes bulged out of
their heads.

“You look gorgeous!”

“Oh my god, you actually *are* a girl!”

“You look so hot!”

All the comments were said simultaneously and Hermione smiled and thanked the girls in turn.
Hermione knew there was a reason she liked them.

“Seriously, Ron's going to drop dead when he sees you in that!” Lavender cooed.

Hermione forced a smile at that compliment as well. Ginny shoved Hermione in the shoulder
playfully, knowing full well who she really wanted to see piss his pants when he saw her. Hermione
excused herself to change back into her normal clothes as the girls exited the room, checking the
price tag for the first time as she pulled on her shirt. Her vision went dizzy as she slumped
against the door in shock. Were there *really* that many zeros in existence?

She heard knocking at that door and Ginny's frantic voice, “Are you alright?!”

“Yeah… I'm—I'm fine.” Hermione found her balance again and slipped her trainers on before
opening the door with a solemn look on her face.

“What's wrong?” Ginny asked worriedly.

“I can't get the dress.” Hermione said sadly.

“Why not?!” Ginny roared.

In response, Hermione handed her the dress, looking down at the floor. Ginny automatically checked
the dress for any imperfections but found nothing. She was about to tell Hermione off when she
noticed the piece of canary paper attached to the tag in the back. She flipped the card over and
her eyes widened.

“I haven't seen that many zeros since I read your book on numbers!”

“You mean my Calculus book?”

“Yeah, that.”

The two girls made their way back to the rack to put the dress back, moods officially dampened.
Hermione was mentally preparing herself to try on other dresses. More fabrics scraping against her
skin, more feathers tickling her, the color pink. She shivered.

She was just about to put the dress back on the rack when Ginny grabbed her wrist. She turned to
face her looked at the young girl's face; she looked as if she was about to cry. Hermione
instantly became concerned. “Ginny…”

All she did for an acknowledgment to Hermione was point. She followed her finger and laughed gently
to herself. There, atop the rack where she found the dress was a bright coral sign, *Student
Discount with Purchase of Shoes and Accessory.* Ginny smiled broadly and dragged Hermione to
where the shoes were and let her pick out the matching shoes. She ended up picking ones that
matched the dress's shade of lilac with a similar pattern of gems. The accessory they decided
on was a small pair of white crystal earrings in the shape of tiny daisies.

They had all of the items rung up and had a total much lower than the original dress had been.
Hermione thanked Merlin that she had enough to cover it after her book indulgence.

“Thank-you sale!” Ginny exclaimed as they exited the store.

“Amen to that.” Hermione answered.

~*~

Entering the tower that night, they ran into him.

“What do you have in the bag, Herms?” he said slyly, trying to take a peek into the multiple bags
she had balanced on her arms.

Hermione batted her eyelashes flirtatiously as she batted his hand away, “Nothing.”

Ron smirked, “Something for later?” His eyebrows arched and Hermione tried not to think about what
was going through his mind.

“You could say that.”

With a forceful kiss on her lips as a goodnight, he returned to his game of chess with Dean.
Hermione wiped her lips with her free hand and made her way up to her room. Saying goodnight to
Ginny, she collapsed onto her bad and let out a content sigh. At least the worst part was over.
Wait, no, scratch that, the dance in itself would probably be the worst part. He probably already
had a date…

A gorgeous blonde flashed through her line of vision and she sniffed.

Unloading her bags slowly into her dresser, she fought back the line of tears threatening to pour
out of her eyes. It was a stupid thing to cry over the fact that he presumably had a date. For all
she knew, he could be going stag. She hadn't talked to him much lately, the guilt of what felt
like betrayal always rushed through her whenever she saw him. It made it harder for her to look him
in the eyes; harder to be in his mere presence.

She sluggishly put on her pajamas and slipped into her covers. The relaxation of being in her own
bed calmed her down, easing her tears back. She snuggled into their warm abyss and let her eyes
drift close.

*They were both working in silence, their quill**s* *scratching aga**inst*
*parchment the only sound around them* *in the small corner of the library**. She
couldn't help sneaking a few glances at him, smiling whenever he had to swipe his
ba**n**gs out of his eyes. It was like this for a while, a comfortable silence. She
didn't notice he had ceased his* *writing* *and had picked up the book that was at
her side.

“What's this?”

His voice startled her. She looked up to where he was examining her book closely. “It's
Ginny's copy of* Romeo and Juliet*;* *she let me borrow it after she was done with
her paper for Mu**ggle Studies.”

“Ahh.” He said with ease.**

Hermione nodded her head and continued to work**. It was a few more minutes before he spoke up
again. “I think we should take a break and read some of it.”

“Read some of the book?” Hermione questioned.

“Yeah, like a scene or something. My hand is going to* *develop carpal tunnel* *if I
write one more thing on the Salem Witch Trials.” He said, gently massaging his right hand.

Hermione put her quill down, thankful that one of them had suggested some sort of cease in their
work efforts. She nodded* *in agreement* *as she turned in her chair to face him. He
followed suit and waved his hand over the book so it duplicated, handing her the original. Hermione
smiled at his gesture and watched him flip through the pages of his copy, looking for an
appropriate scene**.

He found it quickly, “Page 69**.”

She flipped to that page and saw the scene he had chosen. Her cheeks burned red as he begun to
read.* *“**If I profane with my unworthiest hand**.* *This holy shrine, the
gentle fine is this:* *My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand**.* *To smooth
that rough touch with a tender kiss.**”
* *“**Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,* *Which mannerly devotion
shows in this;* *For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,* *And palm to
palm is holy palmers' kiss.**”* *She said with as much emotion she could muster. She
always loved Shakespeare, so it's wasn't incredibly difficult.**
* *“**Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.**”
* *“**O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;* *They pray, grant thou,
lest faith turn to despair.**”* *He said with humor in his tone.**

“**Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.**”* *She said with a
smirk.*** 
 *“**Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.* *Thus from my lips, by yours,
my sin is purged.**”
* *Hermione glanced up at him and saw that he was staring at her. Her insides started
to* *prickle**. She felt her face turn red and looked down to where her next line was.
She didn't get a chance to read it. He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face upwards so
that their lips met. His lips moved slowly across hers, back and forth, as if he were just feeling
their texture. She felt her brain turn to mush, her conscious thought disappear. Oh, how she missed
his kiss.* *At first she thought he was following the script, but when he didn't pull back
she acted.**

Her head moved in turn so that she was kissing him back, their lips barely touching. His hand that
she thought was holding his book came to place at her leg and made a path to her waist, pulling her
onto his lap.* *He was scooted just right so that she could wrap her legs around his waist.
Her hands moved to his neck and held on, treasuring this tender moment for all that it was worth.
In a moment it could all slip away. When that thought entered her mind, his mouth became harder
against hers and his hand moved to her neck, securing her to him in a heated kiss.

They broke apart for only seconds at a time before re-attaching moments later. His mouth opened up
and hers followed. Their tongues moved together slowly, seductively. She could feel his hand move
under her shirt, meeting the bare skin of her back and leaving goose bumps in its wake. She moaned
into his mouth and squeezed tighter. He detached himself from her lips, a mew of protest coming
from her throat. He wasn't gone for long, his lips attaching to her throat. A breath of
pleasure came from her mouth as he lifted her shirt off of her, looking in her eyes. The tenderness
made tears come forth and spill onto her cheeks. He smiled and kissed each one away, making her
stomach* *erupt in* *flips.

They stared at each othe**r for what seemed like eternity, only tender touches.* *He led
her hands from his neck to the hem of his shirt. He helped her pull it off and she blushed at the
sight of his muscled chest. He chuckled low in his chest and cupped her jaw.

“You know I love you, don't you?” He asked.

Hermione smiled. His ministrations proved just that. “Yes.”

“Then let me in.” He placed a kiss on her collarbone. “Let me be a part of your life.” Another kiss
on her neck. “**Tell me your secrets.” Another on her ear. “Let me love you.” He put a gentle
kiss on her lips.
* *Tell me your secrets…**
* She woke with a start. That had been the most potent dream yet. They usually lacked
conversation and were just filled with… well… sex, like normal dreams of that variety were. This
felt so real… the tenderness, the delicacy. Hermione felt her forehead, it was as hot as Hades, and
sweat drenched it.

It all felt so real…

**A/N: Sorry for the long update. I usually write a new chapter after one is validated on HPFF,
but Chapter** **7 of “Move Along” has had some trouble in the queue and it's taken a while.
So anyhoo, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! It was more of a filler chapter to be honest. I
just want to build up some buzz before the next chapter; which will be the ball, woot woot! I think
I have a fairly good idea about what's going to happen there, so expect the unexpected**
**

The dress was based off of a dress that Emma Watson wore. To give you a basic image of what it
looks like here are some pics:
** ****http://www.oclumencia.com.br/galeria/displayimage.php?pid=11639&fullsize=1**
** ****http://www.oclumencia.com.br/galeria/displayimage.php?pid=10731&fullsize=1**


Hope to see you all soon,
Shar**

-->



13. The Seedtime Gambol
-----------------------



Chapter 13

Only fifteen minutes left. Only fifteen minutes until he would have to walk to the Great Hall
and meet his demise. Of course, it was a demise that he and Ginny created, so he couldn't
really place the blame on anyone but himself for agreeing. It was a pretty good plan, though… if it
all worked out. If it didn't… well he just wouldn't think about that.

He looked up at the mirror and splashed some water on his face. He had already given up on his
hair, obviously. Really, *why* couldn't he just have taken after his mother and have
*normal* hair? But that would probably result in him being more susceptible to the red-haired
gene; he shuttered. The day he would be a clone of Ron Weasley would be the day he jumped off of
the Astronomy Tower and died.

He studied his face, tilted it to check for any signs of stubble. Ginny said a little hair would
always have positive effects, as long as it didn't leave scratch marks. He let his eyes wander
to the spot behind him where a figure was stepping up to him. His platinum hair made it more than
obvious who he was. Thank Merlin they weren't crashing another masked ball where everyone was
to buzzed to notice. He snorted; or they were all Weasley clones.

“My my, Mister Potter, if I didn't know better I'd think you were actually trying to
impress your date.” He slurred.

“Well let's say for argument's sake that you don't know better, which really isn't
that much of an argument.”

Malfoy clenched his fist to his heart, “That's a low blow there, Potter.”

“I work hard at it.” He smirked.

Malfoy chuckled and walked up so that he was flush up to the counter and jumped up, sitting on his
hands. Harry grabbed the tiny bottle of cologne that he always kept for special occasions and
gently applied it to his wrists and neck. Malfoy scoffed from beside him, “Gods, what is
*that*?”

“Muggle cologne.” He answered, straightening his collar and casting a side glance over at
him.

“You smell like road kill.” Malfoy said bluntly.

“Thanks.” He said, not really paying attention. All his attention was on looking his best for his
Herm- date. Shaking his head he ruffled his hair one last time and turned to Malfoy. “How do I
look? Be brutal.”

“You look like you're going to puke.”

He nodded, knowing that was the most honesty he was going to get out of him. Sucking in a shaky
breath he exited the bathroom and made his way into the common room, Malfoy on his tail. People
were already gathered there, looking at the clock as if it were doing a striptease. The girls all
done up in varieties of dresses accenting their… assets for all to see.

His date was waiting for him by the fireplace, dressed in a red silk… could he call that a dress?
To him, it looked like a piece of fabric just long enough to cover the top of her thighs. All he
could see was pasty white skin with a hint of red covering it, that's all. It was as if she
thought wearing this would make him remotely interested in shagging her. Swallowing the vomit that
came up in his throat, he made his was over to her.

She spotted him and put on what must have been her version of a suggestive smile. To him it looked
like a caterpillar had crawled up her nose. She kissed his cheek with her cold lips and he fought
the urge to cringe. This was for Hermione; he would bear all of this for Hermione.

“You look absolutely delectable.” She cooed.

*I wish I could say the same about you.* “Thanks, uhh, ditto.”

She smiled contently and looped her arm around his as she gazed at the clock. She looked like she
wanted to eat it! God, he hoped that she was envisioning a nice piece of pie. *Think of
Her**mione, this is all for her. Just breathe.
* He wondered what she was doing right now, if she was still getting ready or waiting for
the clock to strike seven. He knew that he wanted this thing to get started. To get this leech off
of his arms and prove to Hermione that they *could* make this thing work. He *would* make
her see it, he just had to.

One minute left.

~*~

“Hermione, HERMIONE! Get those shoes on or by Merlin I will do it myself!”

Hermione was sitting on her bed, staring at her shoes, ignoring the insistent calls of her best
friend. She hated dances, and now that she was less than a minute away from heading down to one,
she felt like she was going to vomit. It didn't matter that she had the perfect dress, or that
her hair was finally tame after four hours of spells and hair potion. She would have sore feet
tomorrow; didn't that mean *anything* to Ginny? She hated to dance, didn't that count
for *something*?

“Oh- my- *God**!”* Ginny appeared at her feet and yanked the shoes from her hands. She
quickly pushed them onto her feet and grabbed Hermione's hand, jerking it so that she stood up
and faced her. Giving her a quick once-over, she nodded to herself and pulled her out of the
room.

Hermione didn't bother arguing, she wasn't in the mood to have her head ripped off. She
just let Ginny lead her to the common room. Ron was waiting by the fireplace, looking at the bricks
ahead of him. He saw her approaching and licked his lips. Hermione felt an unpleasant shiver erupt
down her spine as she took his extended hand and was pulled into his chest. He crashed his lips
down to hers for a wet kiss and viciously groped her chest. Hermione gasped in pain in his
mouth.

He pulled away and grinned at her. “You look pretty.”

Hermione tried to smile sweetly as she ignored the throbbing pain her chest was pulsing. “Thank
you, Ron. You look quite handsome yourself.”

He seemed content with her answer and placed his hand tightly at her waist. It was then that the
clock struck seven. The people gathered at the door cheered loudly and exited in a hurry. Ron
tugged earnestly at her arm and led her out of the tower. She caught Ginny's eye once and she
winked at her. Hermione didn't fully understand why, but it was better than nothing. So off she
went, down to the Great Hall to begin what she knew to be a very long night.

The doors were already open when they arrived, students dressed up in the finest of attire filing
through them. Hermione was awe-struck as she passed through the entrance. The hall was decorated
beautifully with different shades of green and yellow, intricate flower bouquets in the center of
each circular table. Above the dance floor hung intricate exotic vines that sprouted beautiful
peach flowers, shadowing some places of the dance floor. Hermione didn't have enough time to
observe further, however, on account of Ron still walking quickly, making his way to where his
friends were seated. Hermione felt her face fall when she saw them looking at her as if she were a
pile of meat. Great.

“Hello lads.” Ron greeted, sitting down next to Seamus.

“Alright, Ron? My, Hermione, you sure look absolutely stunning.”

Hermione felt herself redden, “Why thank you, Seamus.”

“Hey now, don't you go making the moves on my girl.” Ron said jokingly. The table laughed and
Hermione began to feel terribly out-of-place. She cast a casual look around the room, wanting very
badly to stray from this conversation. Yet another reason she hated dances; she always got pulled
into conversations she had no interest in being a part of. She started to observe the couples
already on the dance floor, moving graciously with one another, she could tell most were not
enjoying themselves as they should be. Either they were looking fleetingly around the hall, looking
for an exit, or smirking into their date's neck, most likely trying to make the person they
really wanted to be with jealous. *Oh, honestly* *how immature is that? All you have to do
is ask them! How hard can that be?* She thought.*
* The one person Hermione really wanted to see, though, was noticeably absent. A sick part
of her wanted him to see her; she bought the dress only to see the look of shock on his face that
Ginny had hinted at. But, of course, that was Ginny. Silly, silly, Ginny, who was over at the
refreshment table with her date, poor fellow. It was obvious that Ginny wasn't looking to be
tied down at the moment, flirting with any boy in her line of sight.

Her gaze once again drifted to the dance floor. There was a couple there that was completely
engrossed in the other, not taking their eyes off of each other for even a moment. Hermione tilted
her head to the side; examining how the male half of the couple had his hands wound so tightly
around the girl's waist, it was as if he only had these moments with her. The girl, however,
had her hands loosely around his neck, knowing that she had him. It was truly a beautiful site to
be seen. Hermione wished so desperately to trade places with them and not be stuck at a table full
of sixth-year boys determined to spike the punch bowl by the third dance. It was obvious they
didn't know the punch had an anti-alcohol charm on it.

It was when she smiled at herself for their utter stupidity that she spotted him. Or, she should
really say, spotted *them*.

She was dressed in a red silk dress that barely touched the midway point of her thighs. Was that
even allowed? Her heels looked to be seven inches high, propelling her to only be an inch short of
his tall frame. Her black hair was in shiny ringlets down to the nape of her neck, framing her thin
face and outlining her red lipstick beautifully. He, on the other hand was in simple black robes
with a white vest, necktie, and shirt. He looked absolutely stunning. They were the perfect couple;
Pansy Parkinson and Harry Potter. God, even the name sent a cold shiver down her spine.

The one thing she didn't expect him to do was go and get a date. A selfish part of her wanted
him to come stag in protest that he couldn't find a suitable date; someone like… her. She felt
like she was going to be sick.

Pushing her way from the table, she grabbed her purse and rushed to the bathroom. The only route
would make her pass them. She figured if she walked fast enough, she would slip by them without him
noticing how much this was affecting her. Keeping her head down, she pushed past the rest of the
crowd. She thought her plan had worked until a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her attention away
from the floor. A sting of pain shot through her body when she saw that it was him.

“Hey, are you alright?” his velvety voice asked.

Hermione shook her head, “I think I'm going to puke.”

His expression turned to one of concern, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No.” She said firmly, “No, you go have fun with your date. I'll be fine.”

Hermione pulled her wrist from his grip and he let her leave. She felt his gaze on her back and
fought back the prickle of tears that started to accumulate in her eyes. She reached the bathroom
quickly and let it all out.

~*~

He didn't think she'd be that affected by it. Hermione was a strong girl, surly she
wouldn't succumb to the lure of hormones? Well, turns out Ginny was actually right. But she
didn't say how regretful it would become when she lied to his face about being okay. The only
thing that kept him from holding her close to him while he had the chance was the outcome of the
plan fresh in his mind. If it wasn't for Ginny's words, he didn't think that he would
make it through this.

Well, onto phase two.

~*~

Back at the table, Hermione was feeling calmer than she had at the beginning of the night. Calmer
didn't necessarily mean better, though. The first site of Harry had passed, not well in her
eyes. “Not well” was an understatement, it was a complete disaster! And he seemed to be peachy keen
about it! Hanging around with all of his Slytherin housemates and dancing with Pansy. If she
didn't know better, she'd say that this whole thing was planned out to make her feel
horrible. But she did know better. What kind of sick-minded person would hate her so much as to
inflict this kind of torture on her? 

 “Herms?” she heard Ron call from beside her.

“Hmm?” she acknowledged without turning towards him.

“What do you say we get on the dance floor?”

Socked, she twisted her head to the side to look at him. He chuckled at what seemed to be an
amusing face to him. He grabbed her hand without waiting for an answer and led her to the dance
floor. It was when she spotted Pansy and Harry already dancing that she began to panic. The song
was a sensual one, so Ron put his hands tightly on her waist possessively and started to grind
their hips together. Hermione had no chance other than to put her hands on his own waist and let
him lead them. A bad idea, for not even a minute later, she felt his arousal start to press against
her. She let out a disgusted noise, hoping he heard it and would get the point. He
didn't.

A slower song came on next and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Ron didn't look so pleased,
but adjusted their position to mock those around them. It looked like he was debating with himself,
probably about whether or not they should leave. She was about to speak up when there was a tap on
Ron's shoulder. It was Ginny.

“Can you spare a dance with your little sister? You wouldn't mind, would you Hermione?” Ginny
asked sweetly with a glint of something in her eyes.

“N-no— no! Go ahead!” She said excitedly. Hopefully she wasn't too obvious about wanting to
leave. Not that she really cared. She just wanted to go and eat something.

But as she turned to leave, someone grabbed her hand lightly and guided her through the crowd of
dancers. It was such a subtle movement that any observer would think Hermione was moving through
the crowd of dancers by herself. The warmth the hand pooled around her body made it obvious who was
leading her. Her stomach flipped with anticipation.


He led them to a more secluded part of the dance floor, half hidden in shadows. He was the one in
the shadowed section as he put his hand securely at her waist. He wasn't pressuring her into
anything; he was giving her a chance to run. But she didn't want to, the danger of this display
only made her want to dance with him more. Her hands found the back of his neck and pulled him into
her. Her head collided softly with his chest and she inhaled him. They swayed with the music, not
uttering the word, basking in the music. They said everything they needed to through the sway of
their hips and the sighs from their throats. But all things had to come to an end, so the song
stopped. A tango came on next and Hermione didn't really feel like doing anything that drastic
under these conditions.

He must have sensed her stiffness, because he took her hand once again and led her out of the hall.
They passed many a couple in the halls, most in very compromising positions. Hermione furrowed her
brow when he led her to an empty corridor not too far from the entrance hall. Letting out a breath
she didn't realize she was holding, she collapsed onto the wall behind her. He came to stand
beside her and they held the other's gaze for what seemed to be eternity.

“You didn't need to do that, you know. Ron'll find out and—” she began.

“Ron isn't really a problem at the moment.” He answered smugly.

Her forehead creased, “What do you mean?”

“Ginny's taking care of him.”

Hermione had nothing to say to that. She just stood silent, thinking, putting the pieces together.
He let her be, staring at her face as she started to figure out what he and Ginny had been doing.
She looked cute when she was confused. It didn't take her long to say something.

“So you're telling me that this is all some sort of scheme?” she asked.

He nodded in response

“What exactly will you gain from all of this… a trip to the hospital wing in a coma?”

He chuckled deep in his throat and shook his head from side to side, making his bangs slide in
front of his eyes. She bit her lip in thought again. What could he possibly want? Well there was
always her heart. But that was all too terribly cliché for her to have a second thought about.
Didn't he already know he had her? But she couldn't… she couldn't have him. And
that's what he didn't get.

She felt her nose scrunch up as tears started to form in her eyes. That's all he wanted. He
wanted the cliché. He wanted her.

She turned to face him to see him already studying her with an unreadable look on his face. At the
site of her tears, he sobered up and moved closer to her, a frown on his lips. “What's wrong,
`Mione?” She shook her head. “Come on, love, tell me.”

“I-I can't.” A tear made its way down her cheek. He wiped it up with his thumb and a sob
wrecked her chest. “You can't do this. You can't try to win me over.”

His eyes shined with something… stubbornness? “What makes you say that?”

“You can't want me, you can't…” she trailed off.

“Why not?”

She shook her head in response and something in him snapped. Damn what Ginny said! He wouldn't
take it slow! He needed to prove to her how much he really needed her. She wanted him as much as he
wanted her; that he knew for certain. So why was she resisting? She needed to give in!

He moved so close that their noses were touching and Hermione became stiff. She knew what he was
going to do and she didn't think she could stop it. “Harry I—” he cut her off by placing his
index finger to her lips.

“Shh…”

Removing his finger, he closed the inch between them and pressed his lips to hers. It wasn't
hard; it was a soft touch, barely anything at all. He moved back so that their lips were barely
connected at all, waiting for her to respond. She didn't disappoint. She gave into him and
pressed more firmly against him. He smiled inwardly and rolled so that he was pressing her into the
wall. Her hands moved behind his head and held him close, relishing in his touch. His hands moved
so that he was caressing the straps on her dress, edging them down slowly with his
fingertips.

They slid so that they were lying limp over her shoulders. Their kiss became more passionate, his
lips removing themselves and attaching to her shoulders, where her straps once lay. He placed soft
kisses all the way up to her earlobe, earning soft whimpers and sighs from Hermione. She ran her
hand through his hair, edging him on. He smiled against her skin and darted his tongue out to taste
her creamy skin.

Wanting his lips again, she gently tugged on his hair and pressed her lips to his. Their tongues
met and danced with each other, a dance only they knew. Her hands moved to his chest and he lost
all coherent thought. He grabbed her legs and hoisted her up and pressed her firmly onto the wall.
She immediately wrapped her legs around him and they began to twist their hips to match the rhythm
of their tongues.

Harry pulled away from her mouth so their lips were barely touching. Both of their breathing was
hard and their eyes closed. “Hermione I lo-”

“HERMIONE!”

Hermione stiffened and removed her legs from around Harry's waist. Harry turned to see who had
interrupted and saw the heavily-breathing form of Ginny Weasley. “Ginny what-”

“Don't ask.” She said, putting up an open hand. “Hermione, Ron's getting suspicious, you
need to get back before he comes looking for you!”

Hermione nodded and Ginny turned to leave, her heels echoing the only sound in the silent corridor.
Hermione pushed Harry away from her and stood with her back to him, one hand on her forehead,
trying to steady her breathing. Harry moved to her so his front was half against her backside.
“Hermione?”

She turned around, tears in her eyes yet again. “Harry I can't do this. I'm so sorry. I
want to, I really do… I just… I just can't.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of
her hand. With one last look into his eyes, she tiptoed up to his shocked face and placed a soft
his on his cheek. As she pulled back, a sob escaped her throat and she turned to leave.

He watched her walk away and a lone tear leaked from his eye. He turned to the wall and punched it
as hard as he could, venting his frustrations. He didn't even care that his hand was throbbing
with pain. He had lost her. He had failed.

~*~

 **A/N: Sorry for such a long update! Exams just passed and I've been really busy during
Thanksgiving break! I know this chapter ending with angsty goodness, but don't worry! This**
**is** **Portkey, isn't it? I hope to get the next chapter up soon. Thanks for all of the
fantastic reviews, please keep it up :D

[Shar]**

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14. Comatose; I'll Never Wake Up Without An Overdose of You
-----------------------------------------------------------



Chapter 14

There they were again, in the library. It was just after dinner the Monday after the ball and
Harry felt as if he might explode. It wasn't the fact that she was completely ignoring him that
was bothering him, oh no. It was that he was giving himself a splitting headache thinking of a way
to win her over… again. Sure, he told himself that he had lost at the ball, but after actually
thinking about it without the hormones controlling his every coherent thought, he decided one
thing. He was in love with Hermione and he was going to make sure that she knew about it!

He had thought of about every way to win a girl over in the book; flowers, chocolate, rose petals
leading her to the bedroom. None of which seemed realistic in the least (cliché wasn't a word
he was too keen on at the moment) and he didn't want her laughing in his face. All of the
Muggle romance movies he had seen weren't much of a help, either. God, there had to be a plan
somewhere.

The script he was supposed to be writing wasn't really his script, it was full of ideas that he
ended up scribbling out fiercely with his quill. It's not like she noticed, anyway, she seemed
too caught up in her book to take notice to his self-inflicting torture. Lucky; that she could let
what had passed between them that night go so easily. But there was still a tiny part of him that
knew that she was looming over it as often as he was. Still, the realism of that fact wasn't
being helped by her stuffing her nose in her book.

Frustrated, he wadded up his piece of parchment into a paper ball and tossed it into the trash bin
a few feet away from him, joining the dozen others gathered on the floor. Hermione flinched at the
movement from beside her but refused to remove her eyes from where she was scanning the page.
Feigning nonchalant, she turned a page and continued reading. He fought back the urge to scream.
What would it take for her to get it?! God, if he didn't know better, he'd just kiss her
again and—

That was it.

It was so simple. Why didn't he think of it before? Well, that was probably the problem, he
over thought it. Now all he needed to do was do it. *Come on, Potter, you did it fine before.*
He thought. Nodding to himself, he set down his quill that he had been twirling absently on the
table and straightened in his seat, his left arm resting on the table. He just stared at her;
surely she would pick up her head sooner or later? So he waited…

Her back tensed and she dared a glance up into his eyes, finally giving into the powerful urge. She
felt her face turn pink to see him staring at her with that much intensity. Licking her lips, she
tried to ignore him by drawing her attention back down to her book. But before she could even tilt
her head a fraction of a degree, he caught her face with his palm. His lips crashed down on hers
and she froze stiff. He was sucking her into his arms again; something that she had been trying to
prevent. With all of the courage she could muster, she detached her lips from his and quickly began
to gather her things to leave.

“Hermione, please…”

“I stand by what I said before, Harry… I just can't.” She placed her book bag on her shoulder
and stood when he came up in front of her.

“Says who… Weasley?” he asked with slight disgust.

Shaking her head she replied with a simple “No.” and brushed past him. She began to fast-walk out
of the library and he followed, leaving his stuff behind, for this was more important. She felt him
following her and she quickened her pace. Finally, when she heard him breathing behind her, she
muttered a feather-light charm on her bag and broke out into a run. Cursing, Harry sprinted after
her.

She led him up flights of stairs and curving corridors, finally running up and down an
all-too-familiar one. A door appeared exactly on the third passing and she quickly ran into it,
slamming it behind her. Harry reached her just as the door shut and he jiggled the handle to find
it locked. The door was starting to disappear into the wall when he felt an overwhelming power
spread within him like liquid. He didn't quite know what was happening, but his mind told him
to continue to struggle with the door. A burst of strength flooded into his senses like wildfire
and he tugged at the door one final time, breaking it off of its hinge and throwing it to the
wall.

Harry pushed the mixed emotions out of his thoughts and concentrated on the place where Hermione
was standing in the middle of the room staring openly at him, mouth agape. He walked toward her
slowly as the door magically sealed itself. She slowly backed up a few steps, but he quickly
grabbed hold of her forearm and pulled her close to him.

“Tell me— look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn't feel anything.” He said in a strained
voice. She could tell that he was close to tears, though she couldn't decide if it was because
he had just used an incredible amount of magic or if he really was getting emotional about this.
Hermione decided to put up her wall again.

“Feel what?” she asked.

“Stop playing games with me, Hermione! You know damn well what!”

The tone of his voice scared her, but she knew that he wasn't going to hurt her. She was scared
because the crack in her wall just began to reform. She couldn't resist much longer. She turned
her head away from him, choosing not to respond.

“Say it.”

Silence.

He pulled her skin-tight to him and forced her to look him in the eyes. She had tears swimming in
her pools not unlike the ones he saw that night. He was finally getting to her! It wouldn't
take much to break her now.

“Hermione I lo—”

“Don't say it, Harry… please don't.” she begged, a lone tear falling down her check.

He flexed his jaw and looked her in the eyes, “I love you.”

Her tears begun to come in pairs down her cheeks and she let a sob wrack her chest. Harry hated to
see her cry, but he would have to bear it. She leaned her head into his chest and cried. He put his
arms around her trembling body and rubbed her back affectionately. They stayed like that for a few
moments, until Harry felt Hermione's head lift to look at him. He hadn't realized that he
had been crying, too, until her hand came up to his cheek and wiped the tears. He smiled in thanks
to her and she blushed, looking down. He tilted her face up with the palm of his hand and moved his
thumb in tiny circles on the smooth skin of her cheek. Two hearts started beating in rhythm at the
realization of the position they were in.

Hermione leaned her head into his touch and Harry lowered his so their noses were touching. They
both leaned into each other and their lips met in a flurry of emotions. His arms wrapped around her
waist and hers wrapped around his neck. His tongue tested the entrance of her mouth tenderly and
she let him in with no thought. It was pure adrenaline from that moment on. His lips were hard
against hers, bruising them. She didn't mind, relishing in the fact that she had no intention
of stopping him this time.

He pushed them unintentionally into a soft mattress which he hadn't realized was there before.
The back of her knees came in contact with the soft cotton sheets and she collapsed into it, taking
the two of them into its fluffy folds. They backed up so that Hermione's head was flush with
the pillows situated near the short headboard. His lips detached from hers and made their way to
her neck, sucking at her pressure point. She moaned with pleasure and grinded her body with his and
he let out his own sound of appreciation. His hands came up to her clothed upper body and ripped
the button-up shirt, sending the fastenings flying every which way. His mouth left her neck and
buried itself to the swell of her breasts, sucking and nibbling in all the right places.

Hermione lifted his head to come flush with hers and he removed his own shirt. She let her hands
move freely down his chest and he smiled down at her. She continued to trace her small hands down
his Quidditch-toned muscles until he reached gently for them and put them above her head. She
shivered as his hands came softly to her back and removed her lilac bra, letting herself free. She
shied away when he stared down at them, squirming under his gaze. Her shyness soon gave way to a
moan of bliss as his mouth came down on her erect nipple and sucked. Her hands went into his silky
locks as she edged him on, grinding her body once more into his and meeting his hips with
hers.

After equal attention to the other breast, Harry returned to the surface and kissed her sweetly.
Her hands went to his trousers and began to stroke him through the thick material. He moaned into
her mouth and she smirked. Her hand stopped her teasing and traced upward to his zipper. He helped
her shake off his pants and boxers and she stopped herself from staring at him in all of his naked
glory. His hands nimbly removed the rest of her clothing so that they were skin-on-skin. Hermione
opened her legs to him and he buried himself into her warmth. He started off slowly, kissing her
with his tender lips but soon got lost in the moment.

Her hips moved with his as he moved within her. Her walls were tightening around his with every
strong thrust. Her hands moved to his strong shoulders as he plunged one final time into her
depths. She saw stars cloud her vision as liquid hot release washed over her and she screamed his
name into the walls, muffling his cries of her name tenfold.

He collapsed on in a lump atop her and rolled off before he crushed her. They turned to face the
other and smiled. Harry reached for her hand and pulled her close to him, his other beginning to
play with her hair. She closed her eyes contently and relished in his touch. He watched her rest
soundly for a few minutes before removing his hand from her hair and placing it at her waist. She
turned around tiredly and let him spoon her from behind, his last coherent thought being of her
smooth skin before he drifted off and joined Hermione in the land of dreams.

~*~

He didn't know what time it was, nor did he care. He would skip an entire lifetime of classes
to stay in this moment. Of all the things he expected to happen, this was surely one at the bottom.
He expected to kiss her, yes— maybe even snog— but not… well… *shag* her. But, God was it a
good shag! But he really couldn't even call it that; the two of them had made love that night.
She looked so beautiful sleeping, even if her hair was all in his face. It smelled like
oranges.

But one thing was still potent in his mind. She wasn't a virgin. Not that he thought about her
virginity… he surely wasn't one, so why should he be curious about her? Hermione seemed like
the type of person who has to be in love to let them do that to her—he smirked—but she wasn't
in love with Weasley, and she didn't have many long-term boyfriends. Maybe she was a gymnast—
Nah. Then who was it?

She began to stir and he was shaken from his thoughts. She leaned into his touch and turned around
to face him with a tired smile on her face. “Good morning, sunshine.” He whispered softly.

“Mmm.” She responded, “can we just lay here all day?”

“Believe me, I want to, too.” he said with a smirk.

“Then why don't we?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then we'll stay.”

“Alright”

They laughed and fell into a comfortable silence. Harry began to trace his fingertips up and down
Hermione's arm when he blurted, “So you're not a virgin?”

He regretted it as soon as he said it, for her face turned deadly pale and her face went downturned
into the pillow. She was trying to hide the horror on her face. She knew in the back of her mind
that he would notice and would most likely ask… but she thought that he was in as much bliss as she
was and wouldn't bother to ask silly questions like that. After a few moments of her face
buried in the pillow, she faked a small smile and said, “What, and you aren't?”

“Well… no, but—”

She interrupted, “Well then it's not that big of a deal, is it?”

She hoped that that would shut him up in his curiosity. He had different plans, “I think it is, if
your first initial reaction to it was burying your face into the pillow.”

She bit her lip and avoided his eyes again. He hated seeing her in emotional strain, especially if
he didn't know how to fix it. Tilting her face to look at him with his fingers, he offered a
small smile. “Hermione, I love you” -Her eyes widened, still in shock of how it rolled off his
tongue- “And anything that's causing you pain… it's buried in the past is best left
forgotten.”

“But what if I can't forget it?” She whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

“Hermione, everyone's first time is memorable, I know, but—”

“It's more than that, Harry… much more than that.” Her heart lifted a bit when she said that,
as if beginning to tell her deepest, well-hidden secret wasn't such a bad idea.

“Well then if it's bothering you this much, I want to know what it is so that I can
help.”

She shook her head sadly, “No one can help, it's been done, and it's been over with for
years.” Her heart sunk back down.

Harry's brow furrowed, he could tell this was more than her virginity they were talking about.
Concealed beneath her words was something dark, something that he could tell was a topic that she
didn't want to bring up. But if it was causing her this much pain, then he needed to help her,
even if she didn't think she needed it. “Hermione, please… let me in.”

Hermione stiffened. Those words… her dream… it was all connecting now. If she didn't tell
someone soon, she might crack, especially with an overly-hormonal Ron on her tail that she needed
to desperately to get rid of. Besides, if she told him now, Ron wouldn't have anything on her
anymore and she could be free! Taking a deep breath, she straightened herself and rested against
the headboard. Harry faced her, leaning on his elbow, eagerly anticipating her words.

“A few years ago, Ron, Ginny, and I snuck out to Hogsmeade to celebrate Ron making the Gryffindor
Quidditch team. I resisted at first, of course, but back then I had a huge crush on Ron and
couldn't resist when he asked me to join them. Mind you, he wasn't always the big pompous
ass he now.” -Harry chuckled— “So we took one of the secret passageways Ron's older brothers
told us about into Hogsmeade and snuck into The Three Broomsticks. We started off drinking
butterbeer, but then we moved onto firewhisky and… well, got hammered. The next thing I remember is
waking up nude next to Ron and feeling really sore in-between my legs.”

“Alright, so you two slept together after being drunk, that's not anything to be ashamed
about.” Harry supplied.

“I- I wasn't finished.” Harry motioned for her to continue and she did in a monotone, “A few
weeks later I got horribly sick, and went to the hospital, asking for a Pepper-Up Potion. Madame
Pomfrey asked to examine me, after I came back later because the potion wasn't working. She…
she told me that I was…” Harry put a comforting hand on her shoulder and she felt warmth spread
throughout her, edging her on to let out the death wish… the anvil that could change his outlook on
her forever. “Pregnant.”

Harry's eyes widened and his hand put more pressure on her shoulder. He didn't say a word,
just looked sadly at her. This gave her the opportunity to continue with the drive she had now, not
daring to look him in the eyes. “I told Ron almost immediately and he… he was so upset. He said we
were too young and that he didn't want a little brat ruining his building reputation. So he
took me to St. Mungos through the floo in Madame Pomfrey's office and made me terminate the
pregnancy.” By now, there were tears running down her face, “Not that I was planning to keep the
baby, I wanted to at least give it up for adoption. I argued so much with him, but he wouldn't
back off.”

Hermione looked over at where Harry was and saw him clenching his jaw. *Oh god, he hates me! He
thinks I'm a whore! Ohgodohgodohgod.* “I- I know that it puts me in a horrible light;
`Hermione Granger: The Heartless Whore'. But… you can't imagine the pain I had after the
procedure was finished. I didn't feel as if I wasn't pregnant anymore; I was the mother of
a dead baby, and I was horrified that-”

Harry put a finger on her lips and leaned in to softly kiss her. Hermione looked at him oddly as he
smiled softly at her. “I don't think you're a heartless whore, Hermione. The only one to
blame her is Weasley and we both know it. You are the most caring, beautiful, selfless person I
know, and anyone would be a true bastard to want to harm you.” He looked at her and saw a small
smile begin to form through her tears. Suddenly, it hit him. “This is the blackmail, isn't it?
This is the reason you're still tolerating him…”

Hermione's brow furrowed as she stared at him, “How'd you know…?”

“Ginny told me.”

A look of comprehension dawned on Hermione's face and she shook her head, somehow she figured
that he already knew about it. She yawned and stretched her arms, it was then she looked around the
room for a clock, seeing one above the fireplace directly across from them. The foggy tint in her
eyes from her tears prevented her from seeing the time, so she got up, taking the bed sheet with
her.

“Hey!” Harry called after her, pulling the comforter around his bare waist.

She looked behind her with a giggle, “I'm just checking the time, don't have a cow.”

“I don't think I've heard that since primary school.” He said, chuckling.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and walked over to the mantle. Groaning, she walked back over
to the bed and lay back down. “It's five in the morning.” Harry emitted a noise similar to hers
and rolled over to lie on his stomach. “I'm going to go back to sleep.” She stated before
turning her back to Harry and letting her body relax; he was already asleep.

~*~

He woke up in a dead sweat, the disturbing images from his night terror still in his line of
vision. He blinked a few times and focused on the lone candle lit on the mantle. He picked up his
glasses absentmindedly from the bedside table and pushed them up the bridge of his nose, squinting
to see that it was already seven-thirty. He looked over to where Hermione was sleeping, her body
facing him. He smiled down at her, resisting the urge to touch her soft hair. That dream told him
one thing and one thing only: He was going to murder Ron Weasley.

Moving so that he barely moved the mattress, he grabbed his robes from the pile on the floor and
quickly got dressed. His groggy state of mind was now nonexistent as he snuck out of the room,
casting one last glance at her sleepy body before he quietly shut the door.

He reached the Great Hall out-of-breath, leaning on the wall by the entranceway to regain his
breathing. He loosened his tie and collar around his neck and inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes
for a moment. It was a bad idea, for another image of his dream flashed before his eyelids. Or
perhaps it was a good idea, because his posture straightened and his fists clenched. He was fuming,
more so then he though he needed to be to kick Weasley's ass.

He didn't let his true emotions get a hold of him this morning, when Hermione told her this new
bit of information. If he did, there would be a dozen pillows without their feathers. The only
thing holding him back was Hermione's tear-stained eyes; he didn't want to scare her and
make her even more upset then she already was. He didn't think anyone but Draco had ever seen
him lose control in that way, and he planned to keep it that way. Hermione was fast asleep in the
room, she would never see him.

Taking one last inhale of breath, he turned around and walked into the Great Hall. He saw Draco
wave over at him as soon as he entered with a “Where the hell have you been?!” look. He chose to
ignore him for the moment and made his way over to the Gryffindor table. His choice of direction
didn't go unnoticed by the fellow students eating in the hall. It got quieter as whispers
started to fill his eardrums, each getting more frantic as he approached the red tuff of hair. The
git didn't even seem to notice with his face stuffed full of what looked like eggs dipped in
ketchup. Gross.

It was when he was only a foot away from him that one of his friends tapped his shoulder with a
wide-eyed expression; he turned around and immediately scowled. Getting up from his seat, he stood,
standing a fair inch or two over Harry. Harry wouldn't deny that he was a bit intimidated by
the bulky Gryffindor; but he had enough confidence in himself that he quickly diminished the
thought.

“What are you doing over at our neck of the woods, Potter?” He asked, puffing out his chest.

Harry thought he'd be blunt, “I'm here to personally kick your ass.”

Ron started to chuckle, crossing his arms around his chest, “That's about as funny as a screen
door in a battleship.”

It was Harry's turn to laugh, along with a few accompanying snickers from the listening crowd,
“It's a screen door in a submarine, you moron.”

Ron looked to be in thought for a second, before composing his face and raising his eyebrows, “I
knew that.”

“Sure you did, big boy.” Harry said teasingly, “Now if you don't mind, I came here on a
mission, and I plan to complete it before breakfast is finished.”

Ron un-crossed his arms from his chest and opened them up as an invitation, “Go ahead and do it, I
dare you.”

There was no hesitation when Harry took the first punch at his stomach. Ron's breath caught in
his throat and stumbled backwards. Harry raised his eyebrows at the shocked red-head and stepped
forward to punch him again in his cheek, narrowly missing his nose. *This is just too easy,*
Harry thought to himself. It was when he finished the statement that he felt a blow to his
shoulder, and he groaned in pain. Both guys looked at each other for not even a second before
grabbing a hold of each other and wrestling onto the ground.

Ron straddles Harry, taking open punches as his eyes and nose. Harry could feel the blood ooze out
from his open mouth and nostrils. It was obvious that Ron was a tough competitor, and Harry was
starting to regret picking this fight with him. When Ron landed a rather painful blow to his jaw he
leaned down and smirked.

“You know it's such a pity that Hermione chose me over you; you're missing out an animal in
the sack.”

Harry's anger burst forth from his chest and he pushed Ron off of him with one strong shove. He
was atop him without a second to spare and he started wailing on every bare piece of flesh he could
reach, tears forming in his eyes. Ron's struggles began to get stronger and Harry took his
collar and knocked his head against the stone floor, knocking him out cold. His nostrils were
flaring with ragged breathes, his eyes staring daggers at Ron's bloody and unconscious
head.

“HARRY!”

His blood turned from hot to cold within a millisecond when he heard her voice scream out from not
even a foot behind him. His hand was still grasping Ron's collar and he immediately dropped it,
landing his head back on the floor. Harry turned around and tried hard to think what to say. “We
were just… umm… talking.”

Hermione placed her hands on her waist and raised an angry brow at him, “Well isn't that the
understatement of the century! You're just lucky the teachers are at an emergency staff meeting
or else we'd all get expelled!”

He hadn't thought about that. Well, he did count himself lucky, then, for both him and
Hermione. He knew how much she loved and adored this place… almost as much as he did. Harry just
looked down at the floor, suddenly ashamed for what he had done. He got up limply from Ron's
comatose body and looked around him at the penetrating glares from the student body. Prefects were
shielding first years in a corner, a few fourth years looked as though they were exchanging
galleons, and Draco looked as if he might punch a baby.

When Harry turned back to face Hermione, it seemed she just noticed his battle scars. “*Oh my
God*, are you alright, Harry?” She came up to touch his bruising check and he flinched at the
contact.

“I'm fine, really.” Hermione gave him a stern look, “Well… compared to him.” Harry cast a
glance back at Ron's body and smirked to himself.

“Merlin, what did you do to him?” She looked pityingly down at his body.

“Conked his head against the floor, knocked him unconscious” He explained breezily. He saw the
anger start to accumulate on her face as she turned back to look at him. He put up his hands in
protest, “Don't tell me he didn't deserve it.”

She smiled briefly, “Harry we really need to get the two of you back to the hospital. Ginny, would
you help me, please?”

Ginny suddenly popped up beside Harry and grabbed Ron's underarms, Harry picking up the feet.
“Alright you lot, *move!*” Ginny screamed at the crowd. They started to part and form a small
opening to the exit.

Harry looked at the ground beneath him briefly as Hermione cleared more path. He then looked at
Ginny to see her already staring at him. “Sorry for beating up your brother, Gin.”

She smiled at him softly, “S'alright, Harry. As you said before, he deserved it.”

A thought just struck Harry as they neared the door by only a few feet, “Say, why didn't you
ever tell your parents about this?”

She smirked “Let's just say… I knew Ron would get the punishment her deserved from the person
who deserved to serve it to him in time.”

Harry chuckled as they entered the clear hallway and started their way to the Hospital Wing.

Meanwhile, back inside the Great Hall, there was one person who wasn't joining in the chatter
and gossip that was beginning to form about the brawl. He knew exactly why it had happened and he
wasn't particularly thrilled about it. There was one thing he was certain about: He was going
to put an end to these foolish events once and for all… and he knew exactly how he was going to do
it.

~*~

**A/N: I hope I got this first chapter of the new year right :] This chapter hopefully should
satisfy you hungry readers, hehe. Thank you so much for your lovely reviews, please keep it
up!

Love, Shar**

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15. Saving People Thing
-----------------------



Chapter 15

Hermione was sitting in the most uncomfortable chair she had ever had the displeasure of
experiencing. Although it might have had that unfortunate atmosphere because she was in the most
uncomfortable situation she had ever had the displeasure of knowing. She was smack dab in the
middle of her boyfriend and her… well… *other* boyfriend, twirling her fingers absently
through his hair. It felt odd thinking that, having two boyfriends. It wasn't really true,
though— Harry wasn't her boyfriend; he was just the boy she was madly in love with. She smiled
as she pictured how just a few hours ago, his hands had been running over her body and worshiping
her as if she were a goddess, touching her most intimate of areas until she—

“Miss Granger?”

Her mind was immediately shaken from that rather embarrassing and erotic thought as the matron,
Madame Pomfrey, approached her. She straightened her back as though that would camouflage her
awkward demeanor, and pushed the few remaining obscene thoughts from the front of her mind. She
faced the older women with a polite smile, “Yes, Madame Pomfrey?”

The medic looked at Hermione with a small glint of hope in her eyes. “I'm sorry to have to
burden you with this, but could you please look after these two for a few hours? I have just been
called to an emergency conference at St. Mungos and can't seem to find any teachers that
aren't wrapped up with classes or coursework.”

A flash of worry shocked her body— alone… with the both of them? Hermione cleared her throat,
trying to get rid of the sandpaper taste lodged in the back of it. “Of course, I wouldn't mind
at all.” She lied smoothly.

The matron smiled at her warmly, “Thank you very much, Miss Granger. I shall write a note to each
of your teachers, and have them send up someone with the coursework you three will be missing. Did
you have anyone in mind that you trust with that?”
“Ginny Weasley.” Hermione replied quickly.

“Alright, I'll send word to her as well. Thank you so much again, dear. I'll make sure
you'll receive some sort of extra credit for your service.”

Hermione nodded in reply and watched as she exited. As she closed the door behind her, a breath
came out that Hermione didn't realize she was holding. She let her eyes shift nervously to the
two unconscious bodies beside her, her hand still running through Harry's hair. She didn't
want to picture what would happen when they both woke up, but the images still made their way to
her vision; horrible, disturbing images. Her hand ceased in Harry's hair and she placed it in
her lap, her eyes focusing on how fervently they both were shaking. She heard a quiet moan and her
neck snapped to the side, seeing Harry's dazed eyes focusing to the bright lights of the
infirmary. “Why'd you stop?”

Her brows furrowed, “Sorry?”

“Your hand, it felt nice.” He said, nodding to where her hand lay.

“Oh.” She picked up her hand and continued where she left off thoughtlessly, gently massaging his
scalp with her thin fingers. He let out a sigh of content and snuggled back into his pillow, eyes
focused on her.

“Have you been here all day?” he asked curiously.

“If by all day, you mean the two hours it's been since breakfast, then yes.” She said smartly
and he smiled at her. “Madame Pomfrey just left for an emergency conference and left me in charge
of the two of you. All of our homework is going to be sent up at the end of the day with Ginny.” He
nodded slightly and flinched. “Are you alright?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“My head feels like a fishbowl.” He said, leaning up against the headboard and massaging his
temples.

Hermione's hand once again dropped back into her lap as she studied the pained expression
etched on Harry's face. She looked around at the small tray beside the cot and saw a collection
of small potion vials, all with small labels stuck on them. Pulling the tray towards her, she
examined the different labels one by one; there was one for stomach pains, throat pains, and even
eyebrow pains. Finally, she found the one she was looking for, a bright pink liquid labeled
“cranium pains” that rather reminded her of Muggle Pepto Bismol.

She whirled her head back over to where Harry was lying and handed him the potion wordlessly. He
took it without complaint at chugged it down quickly, wiping his lips with his sleeve when he
finished. She smiled at him, “I'm surprised you didn't spit it out.”

“Now why on earth would I do that?” He asked innocently.

“Well potions aren't usually something you'd like to take with your morning kippers.” She
replied.

Harry snorted as he shook his head, a disgusted look washing over his features. “Well I was lucky,
this one tasted rather like nutella.”

“Hmm, well that seems appetizing.” Hermione said jokingly. As if on cue, not even a moment later,
her stomach let out a loud gurgling noise. She immediately averted her eyes from Harry's as she
blushed a deep shade of red while he chuckled softly.

“Hungry?” He asked teasingly, his laugh still embedded in his voice.

Hermione lifted her head to aim a mild punch at his shoulder. “Not funny! I had to skip breakfast
this morning in order to pull you off of Ron and get you both in here!”

“Hey, I came more than willingly! It was Weasley we had to pick up and carry all the way over
here.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself for that.” She stated firmly with her arms folded against
her chest.

“I am more than happy to take full responsibility for knocking Weasley out of the realm of
consciousness.” He replied, smirking at his accomplishment.

Hermione rolled her eyes and a lingering silence cast out between them. Hermione seemed to be in
thought for a few moments, deciphering something out in her mind. After a few minutes, she looked
up into Harry's eyes and tilted her head slightly to the side, “Harry why did you do it?”

He didn't need to ask what she meant, for he knew all too well. “He hurt you, Hermione. He
brought you horrible pain that still haunts you today. I don't think anyone deserves to get
away with that, and that's exactly what he was doing. You were letting him get away with it
virtually scar free and here you are, wallowing in misery while he carries on as if nothing had
ever happened.”

Hermione took a deep, trembling breath. “That still didn't give you the right to hurt him the
way you did.”

“Hermione, the guy is a complete asshole!” He countered, completely aghast as to why she was
defending him.

“I never said he wasn't.” she retorted.

“Well you weren't doing anything about it, and it didn't seem like you were ever going to,
so I just sped up the process a bit.”

She scoffed, “A bit? Harry, you knocked him unconscious! I don't think that classifies itself
as `a bit'.”

“Well… in my book it does…” He trailed off, not finding anything else to say.

“And it's a wonder *that* hasn't been published.” She said saucily.

Harry couldn't help the quiet chuckle at her comment, but quickly sobered up when he saw her
narrowed eyes pointed at him. He felt his blood go from hot to cold in a matter of seconds as she
pierced through his skin with her glare. “It isn't funny Harry, you could have killed him, or
worse, gotten expelled!”

“Now, now, I'm sure that Weasley's life is a tiny more important than getting expelled,
don't you think?” He asked with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Hermione blushed and averted his eyes, “I guess I need to get my priorities sorted out,
then.”

“That you do.”

“Harry, I never asked you to hurt him.” She said abruptly.

“I know, but I wanted too.” When he saw the confused expression on her face, he quickly explained
himself. “It's this thing I have with people, I have to protect the ones I care about… the ones
I love.”

“A saving people thing?” Hermione supplied.

“Exactly! I can't let something horrible go on around me without fixing it. It's like
I'm doomed to be the hero forever, which pretty much blows.”

“And what's wrong with being the hero?” Hermione asked tenderly.

A dark look shadowed over him as he answered. “I'll never fully be satisfied with life as it
is. I can't go a month without something coming up that I have to help fix. If I see an owl
with a twig stuck in its wing, I'll have to pluck it out; if I see a damsel in distress, I have
to help her; if I get word of an underground wizard rebellion, I have to help stop it. It's
going to be like that the rest of my life and it'll make it so hard to finally settle
down.”

“Oh, Harry…” Out of reflex, she reached over and enveloped him in a soft hug, leaning slightly out
of the chair she was sitting in. He welcomed her, wrapping his arms limply yet firmly around her
and holding her close. They stayed like that until well past when they lost count of the seconds.
When they finally released each other, Hermione somehow made her way onto the hospital cot, sitting
next to Harry, above the sheets and he beneath.

“Did you mean it?” she asked in a small voice.

This time he had no idea what she meant. “Mean what?”

She turned to him with a light shining in her eyes, “Do you love me, Harry?”

He smiled sweetly at her, as if the answer was obvious, and to him, it was. “Yes. I love you,
Hermione.”

A lone tear escaped and made its way down her cheek, Harry's hand coming up and softly brushing
it away, leaving a tingling sensation where it stayed still on her skin. “I've never had anyone
say that to me before… except maybe relatives.”

“Well it would please you to know that I really,” -he kissed her check— “truly,” -he kissed her
temple— “do.” He ended with a tender kiss on her lips and she couldn't help but smile against
him.

When he pulled away, she couldn't stop herself from muttering, “I love you, too.”

It wasn't as quiet as she thought, because his face broke out into a huge grin as he leaned
over to kiss her, this time more firmly. She gave into his tender lips as she responded equally and
allowed him to enter her barrier with his tongue. He leaned over her so that her back pressed to
the soft mattress as his lips made a trail down her neck, sucking at the base softly while his hand
made its way underneath her shirt to the creamy skin underneath and massaged gently. A moan erupted
out of her throat as she opened her eyes slowly and tilted her head to the side to give him easier
access. Her body stiffened as she saw Ron's comatose form lying on the cot beside them.

Harry, wondering what made her suddenly go rigid and stop responding to him so fervently, lifted
his face to look where her head was turned. Seeing only the limp form of Weasley, he looked towards
her in confusion. “What's the matter?”

Hermione craned her neck to look at him with an incredulous stare, “He could wake up and see us!”
she exclaimed as if it was the clearest point of reason.

“So?” he responded meekly.

“So?! He could see us, go livid and attack you, and I would have to tear the two of you apart,
which I do *not* feel like doing at the moment!” She whispered feverishly.

“Okay, okay, calm down, Sparky.” He said with an amused expression. Hermione narrowed her eyes but
did not respond, causing Harry's entertainment to heighten. “Even if he *did* catch us,
what exactly could he do? I mean, I already kicked his ass.” He tilted his head and smiled that
mischievous smile that she loved.

“Yeah, I know but… I just want to be careful, okay?” she said, not quite believing herself.

“Fine, but you owe me one.” He said, straightening his posture and leaning back against the
headboard, his head upturned towards the ceiling.

“I owe you one what?” she asked, slightly bewildered at his coolness.

“One of these” he said, shocking her by cupping her face with one hand and leaning down to capture
her lips again in a smoldering kiss.. Hermione felt herself giving in as he moved his lips smoothly
against hers, but pulled away against her better judgment and gave him a penetrating stare. “Okay,
okay, I'll quit it.” He said, putting his hands up in defeat.

“Not for good, just for now.” She heard herself say, blushing when she realized what had just come
out of her mouth.

“Oh I don't know… I think your rejection may have turned my perspective around. I'll just
go snog someone else for a few hours.” He said, lifting himself out of his sheets and allowing his
feel to touch the cold stone of the stone floor.

Hermione put her hands on his shoulders firmly and pushed him back down. “Oh, I don't think
so.”

“Getting a bit frisky, are we `Mione? Going back on your own wishes?” He asked with a small smirk
atop his lips.

“Ha ha.” She laughed dryly, “You are going to say right here until your bones heal.”

“Aww come on, it's just a few broken ribs.” He said, sticking out his lower lip.

Hermione hit him on his chest playfully and he caught her hand in-between the two of his, gently
kneading it. She bit her lip and gently tried to tug her hand away, only to have his hands tighten
around hers and pull her closer to him. She smiled at him, her mind slowly giving in to his
romantic manipulations. Their eyes met and he knew that she wasn't going to push him away this
time. They both leaned in for another stolen kiss, but before their lips could touch, the sound of
footsteps echoed throughout the hall outside of the door. Hermione glanced at the clock; it
wasn't even lunchtime, so it couldn't be Ginny.

She moved herself from the bed and sat herself on the chair which she previously occupied. Harry
followed her lead and scrambled to pull the covers over him and fluffed the pillows so his head
could rest easier on them. He closed his eyes as he snuggled into the mattress and began to feign
sleep. Grabbing the book she had brought up after her bathroom break about an hour ago Hermione
opened up to the place she had marked and began to read. *Calm down, you do* not *look like
you were just snogging Harry and you do* not *feel the least bit scared as to who might be
walking into the room. It could just be some third year to come in for a potion to help a migraine.
Yes, that's who it is, just a third year.* She told herself.

The footsteps became closer and Hermione's hands gripped tightly at her book. *Just a third
year, just a third year…* They suddenly came to a stop and she had to lift up her head to look
and see who it was, although it felt like a ton of bricks. She gulped as she focused in to who it
was. That was *definitely* not a third year.

“Malfoy.” She addressed curtly, trying to hide the strain in her voice.

“Granger.” he replied just as coolly.

She noticed the large bottle of pumpkin juice he was holding and licked the inside of her mouth.
She hadn't realized how thirsty she had been until now. “What are you doing here?”

“Is it a crime to come and see your best friend when he's in the hospital wing?” he asked
innocently.

Harry repressed a snort from the bed and Hermione held back a sarcastic smile. Best friend her ass.
“I suppose not, but I'm afraid to say he's still asleep. Pomfrey gave him a Dreamless
Sleeping Drought before she left.” She lied smoothly, thoroughly surprising herself.

“Ahh, well then I guess I have unlucky timing, then.” Hermione nodded in response and turned back
to her book, feigning to read once more. “I'll just head back to Potions, then. But do you
think he'd mind if I left this here? I got it to congratulate him on finally giving Weasley
what he deserves.”

“Sure, I don't see why not.” She said, not looking up from the book.

“Alright, then.” He placed the bottle on the tray next to the bed and backed away slowly. “You can
have some if you want.” Her head shot up at the friendly gesture, but he was gone.

She glanced at the bottle beside her and licked her lips. She was about to reach for it when Harry
whispered, “Is he gone?” She jumped in her seat a little, forgetting that he was “asleep”.

“Yeah, he's gone.”

Harry leaned up and looked over at her with a smile. “That was a close one, wasn't it? Thanks
for not making me face him.”

She smiled warmly, “Anytime.” She stole another glance at the bottle. “Are you going to drink any
of that?”

“Nah, I'm not really that thirsty at the moment.” He said nonchalantly.

She nodded, “Do you mind if I have some? I'm parched.”

“Not at all.” He motioned to the bottle with one hand and Hermione sighed in relief. She took the
bottle greedily and poured a glass into one of the empty glasses next to the potions. She gulped
down the drink and relished the warm taste it brought to her taste buds. Licking her lips after
devouring the drink in just seconds, she looked over at Harry who was staring at her with a silly
smile on his face.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” He replied, still smiling.

She narrowed her eyes, but didn't respond, instead she chose to re-cap the bottle and get back
to her book, to actually get some reading done while she was here. Harry however didn't have
any sources of entertainment other than her, so he took the book out of her hands and placed it on
the tray. She opened her mouth to protest, but he only said, “No reading allowed.”

“Why not?” she asked with a put-out look on her face.

“Because who needs sappy romance novels when you have the real thing right here to do with as you
please?” He asked, puffing out his chest dramatically. Hermione smacked his overly puffed chest and
he recoiled a bit. “Ow! You really need to stop doing that.”

Hermione merely shrugged “It's not my fault, you deserve it.”

She suddenly let out a loud yawn and stretched her hands over her head. Harry looked at her
curiously as she rubbed her eyes and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a bit peaky is all.” She responded with a small smile.

“Well, we didn't get much sleep last night, did we?” he asked, wiggling hiss eyebrows
suggestively.

Hermione just pursed her lips and made a motion for him to move over. He complied and she slid
under the covers with him. She laid on her side and felt his arms weave over her stomach
protectively, her body melting seamlessly into his. “I'm just going to take a kip for a few
hours, okay?” she asked, suppressing another yawn.

“I'll join you; this potion really makes you drowsy.” She felt the rumbling of his chest as he
spoke and smiled. They fell asleep just like that, curled up against one another, totally oblivious
to anything else.

~*~

Harry was woken up by the familiar tapping of shoes nearby. His eyes opened groggily and he looked
over to who was walking into the room. The dim light showed him that it was Ginny and she was
smiling at the two of them. “Now isn't that the cutest thing I've ever seen.”

“Shut up, Gin.” Harry said playfully, hiding the faint blush in his cheeks.

She shot him a beaming grin and sat down on the chair next to him, setting something down on the
floor beside them. “I brought you're coursework, notes and all.”

“Thanks, we really appreciate it.” He gave her a smile.

“No problem.” She cast a glance over at Hermione. “Say, how long have you two been asleep?”

“Dunno, a few hours probably.” He responded, looking out the window at the dusky weather outside.
It was getting dark which meant they were missing another meal, once again, but he didn't
mind.

“Do you think she'll mind if we wake her up?” Ginny asked curiously as she fiddled with the
blanket hem on the side of the bed.

“Probably not, she hasn't eaten all day so she'll be pretty hungry and want to leave and
get food straightaway.” He said with a chuckle. He shook her gently on her shoulder, rubbing his
palm softly against her jumper. “Hermione…” he called softly. She didn't respond, just kept on
sleeping, her deep breathes remaining steady. “Hermione.” He said more firmly, applying more
pressure to her shoulder— still nothing. “`Mione, it's time to get up.” Nothing.

Harry backed up off of her and laid her down on her back, observing her chest moving up and down
slowly, her hair sticking up at odd ends, and her shirt slightly un-tucked out of her skirt. He
would have found this sight beautiful if he weren't so worried. He felt her forehead and
recoiled slowly, she was cold. He then moved to her hands and found the same result.

“What's the matter with her, why isn't she waking up?” Ginny asked with a shaky
voice.

“I-I don't know, Gin.”

Ginny pushed him slightly to the side and smacked Hermione on her face. Nothing. Hermione was out
cold. Ginny and Harry stood frozen beside her side, not knowing what to do. It was clear that she
was as unconscious as Ron beside them, but why? The only think they knew was that they had to wake
her up, and fast.

~*~

**A/N: Sorry for the long update, I won't bother with excused, because I know you're not
listening… I'll try harder, though, I promise! Please continue with that lovely feedback
I've been getting, it really brightens up my day**

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16. A Dreamless Sleep
---------------------



Chapter 16

*Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,* Oh God!

Those were the only coherent things going through his mind for the past hour and a half. Ginny
was in full out hysterics, running around the room and screaming out her frustrations. He thought
that he should be able to at least to sprint for help or… or something to be useful! But no, his
body chose to shut down after he and Ginny had dumped a gallon of water on her face, another feeble
attempt to wake her up.

Madame Pomfrey had gotten back early from her conference, thank Merlin, and had been running
tests on her for the past few minutes. Ginny had to explain everything, for Harry was still in
shock. She didn't bother doing anything to try and snap him out of it, and he was thankful.

The only movements he was making was shifting his head up and down, casting hopeful glances at
Hermione when he thought he saw a shift of movement. He was always gravely disappointed when all he
saw was her still body lying stiff on the hospital cot. It always ended up being Madame Pomfrey
running unsuccessful tests which made him even more depressed than he already was. I mean, she was
a matron for crying out loud, why hasn't she figured out what was wrong yet?!

*Calm down, Potter,* he told himself. *Don't go blaming her because of something that
is entirely based on consequence.*

Only, he had a feeling that this wasn't based on consequence at all. Someone or something
had done this to Hermione and although he was no closer to figuring out what or who did this than
he was two hours ago, he would! Harry would find whoever caused this (he was pretty sure it
wasn't a cloud of some gas released, so he had ruled out it being some*thing* by now) and
kill them. No, not just kill them! He would torture them, figure out what the hell would motivate
them to do this do a person, torture them some more, and then find an ancient Guillotine somewhere
and chop their head off!

He heard movement from beside him and jerked his head to the side. It wasn't coming from
Hermione's resting spot, but from the bed next to hers where Weasley, up until seconds ago,
lied unconscious. Harry spun around in his chair and looked over to his twitching body, slowly
awakening. He saw his eyes open up and gain focus to the bright lighting of the Hospital Wing,
shaking his head slightly. Propping his upper body up by his elbows he looked around and met
Harry's eyes, immediately narrowing his into slits. But, after glancing behind him for a
fraction of a second, his face turned an abnormal shade of red. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO TO
HER?!”

He scream caught the attention of the matron, who was in the middle of filling a small vile with
some sort of opaque liquid. “Language, Mister Weasley!” she seemed to realize to whom she was
addressing and turned hurriedly over to where Ron was sitting bolt upright. “Oh, Mister Weasley,
you're awake! How are you feeling?”

Ron gave her a very sarcastic smile, “Oh I'm doing peachy, ma'am. I just woke up for a
coma which he—” he pointed a finger at Harry accusingly, “put me into, to find that my
*girlfriend* is lying unconscious in the bed next to me! How in the hell do you think I
feel?!”

Madam Pomfrey gave him an incredulous look, “You'd do well to lower that tone of yours, or
I'll be forced to knock you out again with a sleeping drought.” There was no joke in her voice
and Harry chuckled.

“What's so funny, scar head?” he scoffed at Harry.

“Oh, you mean funny as in how that vain on your forehead seems to be popping out to say hello?
Nothing, nothing at all.” He smirked at the confused look on the red-heads face.

“Oh honestly Ron, can't you take a joke without analyzing it too much?” Ginny asked from her
place standing over at the other side of the wing.

“I don't even think his brain has the capacity to know what the word analyze means, let
alone do it.” He added with a smile.

“What brain?”

“Oh would you two just shut the hell up for two seconds and tell me what the *fuck*
happened to my girlfriend?!” He screamed, interrupting their rather amusing conversation.

“*Language*, Mister Weasley!”

Harry shifted in his seat as he looked behind him at Hermione once more. His expression sobered
and he turned back to Ron, who was staring at him pointedly. He took a long breath and spoke in a
monotone, “We suspect she was poisoned.”

Ron's face, if possible, went darker three more shades, “Well why would you poison her?”

Harry turned his back to the raging red head, “I already told you that I didn't do it
Weasley, we don't know who…” he trailed off, his eyes finding the bottle of butterbeer resting
on his bedside table, “did it.” Of course! It was all so simple. “Malfoy”

“Malfoy?” Ginny asked, coming up to his shoulder and looking down at the bottle. “What about
him?”

“He did it.” Harry said sadly. “He… he poisoned her. I didn't think he would actually go
through with it… he warned her. He warned me. Why was I so blind to it?!”

“Blind to what, Harry?” Ginny asked in a comforting voice.

He turned to face her, “Draco always has a way of getting his point across. And I know that it
seems stupid now, but I used to help. He was my friend and I thought it was fun…”

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “It's alright Harry”

“No, it's not!” he whispered harshly. “Ginny I'm going to find him and get the antidote.
If I know Draco, he has it with him and is waiting for me already. I need to do this on my own, so
please watch after Hermione for me and keep your brother in check. I'll be back soon.”

Ginny smiled up and him and pulled him into a friendly embrace. Harry relished in her comforting
arms, thankful that he had at least one person on his side. Pulling away, she whispered, “Good
luck, Harry.”

He turned to grab the bottle of butterbeer and walked away, his footsteps echoing throughout the
large room. Harry heard an outburst of “Where does *he* think he's going?!” from Ron's
cot and smirked. At least the joy of being able to get on Weasley's nerves was still present in
his revenge-driven mind.

While walking the long corridor, he tried to keep his building temper in check. If he wanted to
get his way, then he had to stay calm. Draco wasn't the type of person to give in at the face
of a heated argument. He needed to be at the top of his game and willing to take some deep risks in
order to get what he wanted. Draco was a slimy bastard, and if there was any chance that he would
break him and get the antidote, it would be because of his inevitable compromise.

He arrived in the Slytherin common room to find it virtually empty, but he knew better than to
judge by first appearances. Harry stepped towards the large fireplace and turned to see the
lounging figure of his former best friend atop the dark couch that was placed in front of it. He
saw a smirk form on his lips as he got up and walked up to him. Harry did his best not to recoil at
his close proximity.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out, Harry.” He said in a friendly
voice. “I mean, who else would be so sly and cunning to pull a stunt like that, eh?” He aimed a
playful punch on his shoulder.

Harry remained stiff and replied with clenched teeth. Waving the bottle in front of his face he
asked sternly, “Why did you do it?”

“Oh it's simple really. I was upset at the status quo, so I fixed it. I'm sure
you'll thank me in the long run. She really wasn't that good looking in the first
place.”

Harry's temper rose and he aimed a punch at Malfoy's face. Consequences and formality be
damned! The blonde stumbled backwards and fell back into the couch, blood oozing from his nose.
“You bastard, what did she ever do to you?!”

Wiping his nose, flinching at the contact, Draco responded, “It was never her… it was you.
*You* fell for a mudblood, *you* fell for a Gryffindor, *you* left us for her! I
thought you needed a wakeup call, that's all.”

“A wakeup call?” he asked, astonished, “I think this constitutes as a little more than a wakeup
call, Malfoy!”

“Oh, so now it's Malfoy? Remember the days when you used to call me by my actual name,
Harry?” Draco mocked. “When you used to praise and help me play pranks on the first years, shag
girls worth shagging, and never once look twice at a filthy Gryffindor?”

“The worst days of my life, I can assure you of that.” He said with a slight hiss to his
tone.

“And what made you conclude that, shagging a worthless mudblood?” Draco asked, finally mustering
the strength to get back up and face Harry. “Was it worth it?”

“You know, I don't even think you get it!” Harry yelled at him.

“And what is that exactly?” Harry just stared at him and Draco leaned back, looking as if he had
been hit with something. He put a hand over his chest as he feigned sympathy, “Oh, you *love*
her, is that it? Well, I've got news for you. Because you let your hormones take control, your
little whore is lying in the hospital wing right now with no hope of waking up!”

Harry felt tears well up in his eyes. It was his entire fault. She was in a lifeless, motionless
sleep because of him, because he chose to love her. He willed the tears to stay back as he tried to
think positive, reminding himself about why he was here. “You have the antidote, Malfoy.”

He raised an eyebrow, “What makes you think I have something like that? What makes you think
that I didn't just feed her poison to make her die a slow, painful, death?”

“Because I know you” Harry stated with certainty. “You wouldn't kill someone unless there
was no way you could benefit from it. But by killing her you would lose me, get sent to Azkaban,
and have the lot of Hogwarts turned against you. By putting her into a dreamless sleep, however,
you have room for compromises that will provide you with perks.”

Draco smirked, “Oh how well you know me. You've got it all figured out, then? Well let's
hear your plea. What are you willing to give up to save her?”

He answered without second thought, “Anything”

Draco seemed to ponder for a moment before answering in a smug voice, “Stop seeing her. When I
give her the potion to wake her up, you stay away from her at all costs and never speak to her
again.”

“Now *that* I can't do” Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Harry interrupted, an
idea coming to him, “How about you listen to me before we make any final decisions. I think that
the only way you are going to take me seriously is if I do something drastic, something to
*really* solve this little predicament we have here. So, I've got a proposition for you…
wake up Hermione or I'm going to do something so drastic and stupid that you'll regret the
day that you ever crossed me.”

Harry wasn't surprised when Draco snorted, “There isn't anything that you can do that
will surprise me, I've seen it all.”

Harry nodded, “That may be true… but don't get too egotistical. What I've got in my hand
here is a bottle of your poisoned butterbeer and a wand. Only Hermione will know how to help me if
I enchant this drink to put me in the same state she is in, without your antidote having any
effect.”

“I highly doubt that you can do that.” Draco said with disbelief.

Harry smirked, “Want to bet on that?” when Draco remained silent and unwavering Harry pulled out
his wand from his back pocket and pointed it at the bottle in his hand. “*Nullus*
*Medicor**!*”

The bottle glowed a deep yellow color for a moment before returning to its normal state. Harry
observed it and waved it in Draco's face as a warning, “Last chance.”

“You're bluffing.” Draco said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Harry pursed his lips and tilted his head. “If you say so” He lifted the bottle to his lips for
a moment before saying, “Make sure not to lose that antidote, Malfoy. You're going to need it.”
And with that he downed the drink with a lick of his lips. Harry expected a few minutes or even
hours before it kicked in, but by cause of how much he consumed, he dropped to the floor seconds
after he swallowed.

Draco looked at the body of his best friend with wide eyes, horror pouring over him. He knew
that Harry was stupid when it came to things like love, but not stupid enough to knock himself out!
He grabbed the antidote he had been hiding inside his robe pocket and poured the contents into his
open mouth. To his annoyance it had no effect and he cursed. Casting a simple levitating charm, he
lifted Harry and carried him to the hospital.

~*~

Ginny was holding Hermione's head upwards while Madame Pomfrey poured another potion into
her mouth. They waited for the glowing effect the book said it would have if effective and let out
a collective groan when her throat remained unchanged. Ron had taken to playing with his wand,
tossing it up and down and twirling it in-between his fingers, being no help whatsoever in the
attempts to revive Hermione.

Collapsing into the chair next to Hermione's cot, Ginny sighed dejectedly. Harry had been
gone for a half an hour and she was beginning to get worried. If Draco did *anything* to him,
she swore to herself there would be ferret for dinner that night. Madame Pomfrey went to get
another book from her office, but the both of them knew the point was moot. The silence in the room
was deafening until the doors to the infirmary burst open and Draco Malfoy stomped into the
room.

Ginny stood up and looked behind him for Harry, but saw nothing. She turned to him with steam
coming out of her ears, “What did you do to him, Malfoy?!”

“What did I do to *him*? Look what he did to me!” He pointed to him nose and it was then
that Ginny noticed that it looked swollen and was bleeding profusely, most likely broken. She
resisted the urge to snort and kept a hard face.

“It'll heal eventually; now tell me where Harry is!” She screeched.

He gave into the fiery red head and stepped aside, revealing the floating and unconscious form
of Harry. Ginny gasped and ran over to where he was, observing him lightly. She looked back over to
Draco and repeated herself, “What in the bleeding hell did you do to him?!”

“*I* didn't do anything, Weasley, he did this to himself!” He said, waving his hand for
emphasis.

“Oh, and I'm really supposed to believe that?” She asked, putting her hands over her
hips.

“All I wanted to do is get him away from Granger, not make him in the same state she was!” He
said with exasperation. “I wouldn't give him the bloody antidote and he cursed the bottle so
that it had no effect on him!”

Ginny's eyes widened as she looked pityingly at Harry, “What an idiot.”

Draco nodded, “You're telling me! He says the only person who can help him is little miss
*Sleeping Beauty* over there.”

Ginny looked at him as if the answer was obvious. “Well… let's give her the antidote then
and wake the both of them up!” Draco looked at the floor, avoiding her penetrating gaze at all
costs. “What aren't you telling me, slime ball?” Draco mumbled something under his breath and
Ginny leaned forward and yelled, “Out with it!”

“I used up the last bit of potion on him, alright?!” he shouted at her.

Ginny's mouth dropped open, “Didn't you *just* say that it would have no effect on
him?!”

“I didn't believe him, so I tested it out…” he trailed off guiltily.

Ginny grabbed his wand from his fisted hand and levitated Harry to the bed next to Hermione that
wasn't otherwise occupied and pushed the beds close together. She looked down at the two of
them with a sad smile on her face. She didn't hear Draco come up behind her and felt herself
jump when he spoke up.

“If we're going to wake them up, we'll have to work together.” He stated
matter-of-factly.

Ginny turned to him to reply, but the high-pitched voice of her brother interrupted. “There is
no way I'm helping that bastard wake up! The longer he's asleep, the easier my life will
be.”

“No one said that we needed *your* help.” Ginny spat at him.

Draco looked surprised at the younger Weasley, but snapped out of it, “We can do just fine
without you. Plus, your oversized immaturity might slow us down in the long run anyway.”

Ron scowled at the pair of them, “Well you can bet that when he wakes up, he'll pay for what
he did to me.”

“What? Put you in your place?” Ginny asked with a chuckle.

His eyes narrowed, “For stealing my girlfriend.”

“She was never yours, Ron, and you know it.” Ginny spoke explicitly.

Ron turned away and continued playing with his wand, choosing to ignore her last statement.
Ginny turned back to Harry and Hermione's inert bodies and sighed. She would do anything to
bring them back together. It was obvious they were in love and no one deserved to be together more
than they did. With one final fleeting glance at the pair of them, she turned back to Draco, who
was looking at her with an unreadable look on his face. “So what do we do first?”

Draco smirked at her, “Follow me, Weaselette.”

She ignored the comment and followed him out of the door, leaving Harry and Hermione laying
side-by-side.

~*~

**A/N: Sorry for the long update! Hope you guys aren't too horribly mad at me. Heh…**

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17. Fire and Ice
----------------



Chapter 17

“Now, take a left here.”

“Which way is left again?”

“When your pointer finger and thumb make an L shape…”

“Ha ha, smartass. It's pitch black, how do you expect me to know which way is which?”

“Intuition.”

“Sorry, I left that in my other pants.”

Draco rolled his eyes and put his hands on the petite red-head shoulders, veering her to the
left corridor. They had been looming the pitch black corridors for a good half an hour and his
irritation seemed to be raising to dangerous heights every second he was with her—a Weasley… a
*Gryffindor*. It was bad enough that he was going to help her, now he knew they were in store
for a dangerous punishment if they were found together. The odds of that were slim, because not
many people knew about the secret potions storeroom deep in the dungeons, but there was always that
chance that someone would happen to wander down there. He knew that he was being overly paranoid
but he'd rather be paranoid then get caught (quite literally) red-handed.

Ginny, however had different things on her mind. No, she wasn't worried about being caught
with a Slytherin, even one like Draco. Her only concern was to help her friends out of their
comatose beds. The risk was well worth it to guarantee their safeties. It certainly wasn't
going to be a pleasurable experience, but she was willing to risk it. She was willing to risk her
short temper to save them. Being with the guy who was responsible for their current states was
making her anger boil right to her ears, but she had to control herself. She *would not* hex
him, let alone kill him, which she was very much considering after roaming the dungeons with him
for Merlin knows how long. He was very irritating, him and his snippy comments, which always seemed
to be uncalled for. Of course, she had let a few sarcastic comments escape herself. But that just
meant that they were even. Fire and ice.

Draco let his hand trail the stone walls until he felt the presence of wood. He grabbed
Ginny's shirt and tugged her into the room. She let out an audible noise of protest as he shut
the door behind them, muttering a locking charm just in case.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Had to get your attention somehow,” He responded with a shrug, walking up to the few candles
scattered throughout the room and lighting them.

“You could have just told me we were here.” She said hotly, plopping down on a creaky wooden
stool.

“That would've taken too long. I saved us time and your teeny pea brain strain by just
pulling you in here.”

She huffed, “Well if I have a pea brain, yours must be the size of a grain of floo powder!”

He snorted, “Very clever, Red. But you're wrong of course. It's about the size of my
d—”

Ginny put her arms up as a disgusted look formed on her face, “Do not finish that sentence or
you won't have one left.”

He had heard about her infamous hexes so he dropped the subject quickly, wanting to keep his
privates attached to his body. Lighting the last candle, he motioned for her to come stand by him
next to a large cauldron. She complied and he muttered the charm to light the fire before turning
to talk with her. “The remedy is simple and quick to make, but we have to be very careful about the
timing or else we could kill her.”

Ginny gulped, “Well is there any way to know when we've overdone it?”

Draco shook his head sullenly, “No. We'll find out when we give it to her.”

“Well that's reassuring.” She quipped sarcastically.

He made no response to that and focused on the business at hand. He summoned the book he had
used to make the potion and turned to the marked page. “We need some boomslang skin, rat spleens,
powdered pine root, and three newt tails.”

Ginny scrunched her nose in distaste, “Lovely combination. Is all of this stuff in here?”

He nodded shortly, “All along the shelves. The other supplies are in the cabinet. You get the
ingredients and I'll get the other stuff.”

“Okay”

The two set off to opposite sides of the room and gathered their designated items. It took Draco
only a few moments collect the stirring ladle and knife set, so after he was finished, he helped
Ginny get the rest of the ingredients. Within a few minutes, they had it all lying out in front of
them and Draco was once again reading out of the book.

“Chop the newt tails in two-inch sections and drop one in every three stirs counterclockwise,
starting after you place the first one into a bubbling cauldron.”

“I'll slice if you stir.” Ginny offered.

“Sounds fine to me” He agreed.

Ginny began chopping and put the cut up tails off to one side for Draco to put into the
cauldron. After she was done, she set to grinding up the pine root, reading the directions mentally
and making sure she didn't make it too fine. According to the book, it had to be ground into a
thin powder and put in right after the last rat tail. Ginny informed Draco of this as she
finished.

“Okay well I'm just about to put the last piece in, so get ready.”

She bustled over to him and watched as he dropped it in. Quickly following its small splash into
the boiling water, she sprinkled the powdered root in and stepped back, watching a small burst of
auburn smoke rise. Draco turned to the book and leaned against the table.

“We have ten minutes until we have to put in the spleens.”

Ginny sighed, not looking forward to the next few minutes. She hated silence, it made her
uneasy. So she decided to make conversation, no matter how much she detested the company. There
were only so many things you could talk about with someone you barely knew.

“So…”

Draco gave her a look, “If you're trying to make conversation, don't bother unless
it's worth my time.”

Ginny sneered and let her mind work. Oh how she hated him! It really wasn't a surprise that
a guy like him would commit such an act on two innocent people. It was then that it struck her. A
conversation topic—an answer to a question that she knew should be put to rest.

“Why'd you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Don't play coy, it's not becoming.”

“Really? I heard that some girls find it quite sexy.” He said with a small smirk.

“Well I'm not `some girl',” She said blithely, “Now tell me. What could possibly
motivate you to poison your best friend?”

“I didn't poison him!” He defended, “I poisoned his mudblood lover.”

Ginny leaned toward him and poked a finger hard into his chest. “Call her a mudblood one more
time and you won't be able to reproduce.”

He held up his hands in defense. “Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist.”

She backed off towards a nearby empty shelf and leaned against it, crossing her arms. “Get on
with it, then.”

Draco looked at her reproachfully for a second. “Why should I tell you, anyway?” Ginny lifted an
eyebrow and he let out a puff of air. He knew that she would take any actions necessary to ensure
that he told her the truth, so why bother coming up with a lie? He knew that he couldn't fool
her. She had already called him out on many occasions and he wasn't about to let another lie
take him and his balls to another planet. Taking a deep intake of air, he started.

“He was my best friend. We've been through everything together. Birds, detention… birds. But
then this one bird in particular comes along and he disappears. It was bad enough that he was
letting her come in between us, but to find out that it was a Gryffindor of all people came as a
real blow. Everyone knows of the feud and why we can't be left in one room with the other
without someone getting sent to the hospital wing. So why would he risk his own neck to be with
some girl? Don't get me wrong, I understood the partner part, but then he started sneaking off
just to *be* with her and I knew that something had to be done. My best friend was being lured
over to enemy lines and I couldn't do a thing about it unless I sent out the message that
people were watching them.”

“*You* were the one who threatened her, weren't you? The one who told her that Harry
was only interested in her for the sake of the assignment?” She asked breathily.

He nodded, “I wanted to get my point across. But then he had to go and convince her otherwise.
It was really aggravating, having to start over again from scratch. That is, until I thought a
surefire way to finally end it. All I needed to do was make sure the little mud—I mean, Granger,
was out of the way with no possible way for him to talk her out of it. It was simple, really. I
brewed a potion to put her into an eternal sleep that would become permanent within the first
twenty-four hours.”

“Wait, *permanent*?”

“Yeah… it was the only one that didn't involve injury. I thought that might be a bit
harsh.”

“A bit—you put my best friend into an eternal sleep!”

“Whoa, slow your roll Red. It doesn't become permanent until she's been under its effect
for a day.”

“When did you give it to her?”

“Yesterday around mid-afternoon.”

“Alright, so we have a few hours, then.”

“Thus why I said to calm down.”

There was a small pause before Ginny chose to speak up again, “You did all of this to get your
friend back?” For a moment, she thought he was human. That is, until he opened his mouth again.

“Well that and to finally prove once and for all that Slytherins and Gryffindors shouldn't
mix.”

Her eyes narrowed, “So that's it? You did it for the feud?”

“Basically.”

She scoffed and turned her head to the side, not wanting to see his despicable face. Not so long
ago, she had thought along the same lines and now that her best friend was in love with “the
enemy”, it really put things into perspective about how stupid the whole thing was. She wanted to
strangle Draco, but knew that she couldn't. The struggle had an effect on her external
composure, as her eyes started to water.

“Are you crying, Red?”

“No.” She said stubbornly, rubbing her eyes dry. “I'm trying not to strangle you.”

That was a shock to him. “Really?”

“Well what do you expect?” She asked venomously, “You put my best friend and the love of her
life in a coma because a few people a thousand years ago decided `Hey, I don't like
you.'”

He was silent for a moment, searching for something to say. He found a sliver of something
hidden in the back of his mind that he chose to say. Granted, it wasn't the best thing to say
at a moment like this, but it was all he had. “I'm not the only person who thinks like
that!”

She surprised him with her level tone. “I know. The whole school shares you're stupid,
prejudiced, ancient opinion. Congratulations, you're a clone, one in a bunch of a
thousand.”

“A clone?”

“Yes, a clone.”

“I am not a clone.”

“Could've fooled me.”

His anger peaked and he stomped over to her frowning face. Her face remained stony as he came
within an inch of it. “*Never* associate me with someone who lacks their own thoughts.”

“Malfoy, you're the poster child for it.” She said in a pitying tone, as though she was
telling a three-year-old that they couldn't have a lollipop.

His jaw clenched as he spit out, “You have *no idea*. You don't know me or the way my
mind works. The decisions I've made are a mystery to your squeaky clean `Oh, should I buy the
pink thong with the lace or the blue with pearls?'”

“I hate thongs.”

“You're missing my point, Weaslette!” He nearly shouts. “You have to place to judge me.”

“You're making it hard not to.” She says simply. “Should I recite what you just told me? How
you nearly gave your so-called best friend a stroke when he found out that the girl he loves
wouldn't wake up, causing him to go insane and meet the same fate as she was dealt with?”

“Shut up.”

“Now they're both in a coma and might die if you and I can't make the remedy right.”

“*Shut up*.”

“So now what, macho man, are you going to do the same thing to me? Leave me here to rot while
you get back to your perfect life?” she asked, inching her head closer to his.

“SHUT UP!” He screamed.

She smirked, “There's the reaction I was looking for. You going to hex me now?”

“It's tempting.” He said through clenched teeth.

“Then do it.”

He pulled away, running a hand through his platinum locks. His back was to her and she could see
the tense muscles through his tight pale blue shirt. She wanted him to be this angry, so why was
she suddenly regretting it? It couldn't be sympathy. He had just put her best friend's life
in danger; she couldn't feel anything but hatred towards him.

Draco turned back around and her thoughts stopped. He spoke so softly that she had to strain her
ears to hear it. “You really know how to get a rise out of me yet you have no idea what nerve
you've hit.”

She shook her head. “Not a clue.” Pausing for a moment, she decided to push a bit. “You want to
tell me?”

“Not a chance.”

She nodded in understanding. They were both saved from the awkward silence when a bell rang.
Ginny's arms guarded her ears from the piercing noise and watched as Draco tapped his wand
against a small timer. She gave him an odd look as he put in the rat spleens. He caught it and
raised an eyebrow in question.

“You set a timer?”

“I don't want to take any chances.”

“You *do* care.” She put a hand over her heart for emphasis.

Draco sneered at her, “I don't want my best friend to die. Is that so hard to believe?”

Ginny shook her head, “No. But the fact that this potion is going to cure Hermione might
be.”

“She's just an added… ah… bonus on your part.”

Ginny let a ghost of a smile pass on her lips. It disappeared as she realized that Draco had to
power to make the potion deadly. Her head bowed, “I don't know what I would do if I lost her…”
Draco didn't respond and she continued, more to herself. “She hated this whole feud thing from
the moment she read *Hogwarts: a* *History**.* Said it waste of energy when there
are more important things to worry about… like homework.”

Draco snorted, “Sounds like Granger.”

“It's just that… it *would* happen to her, right? The one person who dared to be
different, challenge her peers and gain the affection for the last person she had ever
expected.”

“Your half-wit brother?”

Ginny chuckled, “Yeah, him too.”

“Honestly, was he ever dropped on his head as a child?”

“Believe it or not, no he wasn't. Trust me, I've asked.”

They both laughed and Draco checked the potion. The directions had said to wait for it to turn a
pale green color and at the moment it was a dark shade of violet. He turned to Ginny to see her
playing with one of the empty glass vials. It was weird having a civilized conversation with her.
At the beginning of their journey down to his “secret room”, he couldn't have thought of a
worse person to work with. But now, he could name off at least five, and for being with a Weasley,
that was a lot. He had almost told her about his one weakness, or rather, his one strength. He had
stopped himself, his mind screaming that it would be a horrible idea to even ponder the thought.
Only Harry knew about what he had given up, and he was planning to keep it that way.

Ginny was studying the vial with faux interest as she twirled it around her fingers idly. Truth
be told, she didn't like the way she was talking with Draco. Not one bit. She still hated him,
of course, but these growing conversations between the two of them were making her second guess
that persona of him. Never a good sign. She had always been a stubborn person, sticking to her
opinions of people from the moment she met them. She had always hated Ron, ever since he had told
her that if she were to ever tattle on him, he would get the ghoul in their attic to come attack
her in her sleep. Hermione had always been nice to her, ever since her first year, and thus their
strong friendship was born. Harry she had hated because of the feud, which really wasn't a very
good reason, so it changed when she figured out that Hermione cared for him. She had hated Draco
because he was an arrogant prick and always would be, end of story. But now… she didn't even
know anymore. Could one conversation change her opinions?

“Hey Red?”

Ginny turned to Draco, still twirling the vile, “Yeah?”

“Could you prepare the boomslang skin while I finish stirring this thing?”

She nodded and removed the slimy substance from its glass container. She had never been the
biggest fan of potions, the reason being that she simply hated all of the nasty ingredients they
were always forced to work with. That and the fact that Snape creeps her out, but that was
unimportant.

Draco motioned for her to put in the skin and she hurriedly threw it in there, wiping her hands
on her pants to get the slimy feeling off from in-between her fingertips. He noticed her discomfort
and offered a rag. She greedily took it and scrubbed furiously.

“Germapheobe much?” he asked jokingly.

She scrunched up her nose, “No, I just hate slimy wet things.”

“Well that's disappointing.”

It took Ginny a moment to grasp what he had just said. When she did, she slapped him with the
rag. “Pervert!”

He rubbed his upper arm where the rag had made contact, “Hey, it's in my nature as a male to
turn everything you say dirty.”

“Surely you can't turn everything I say into a perverse pun?”

“Try me.”

Ginny contemplated for a moment. “Oranges.”

“Orange flavored condoms,” He replied without a second thought.

“Quidditch.”

“Fourteen people riding thin broomsticks in thin pants. It doesn't take a genius to figure
that one out.”

Her tone now turned questioning. “Wallpaper?”

“Wall sex.” It was like the beat of a drum. Ba dum bum.

“Pillows?”

“Lesbian pillow fights.”

“Hmm…” Ginny thought for a while, trying to come up with something so simple he couldn't
turn it into something tainted. “Unicorns.”

“Easy. Their horns could constitute them as forever horny or be used for a nice replacement of a
sh—”

“Okay, I get it, you're a genius.”

“Oh, any guy can do it, it's implanted in our brains from the moment we hit puberty.”

“That explains so much…” She trailed off, thinking of how much her brother had changed in his
fourth year, not only voice and appearance wise, but with his attitude as well.

The potion began to bubble and the air turned serious once more. They both turned to the
cauldron and Draco double checked with the book to make sure that it was done. The potion was a
murky yellow in the book… and the potion in the cauldron matched it exactly. Draco grabbed a
medium-sized vial and poured the potion into it with the ladle. Ginny handed him the cork and they
looked at each other with worry in their eyes. The potion still had a chance of not working. The
book said to get the timing perfect and to serve it to the recipient within fifteen minutes of
completing it. They had one shot. It was already close to noon and the ingredients were too scarce
to make another one.

“We'd better go now if we want to get there in time.” Draco said, trying to keep his
cool.

“But what about the leftover potion?” Ginny asked as they hurried to the door.

“Leave it. I'll clean it up later.”

Ginny left it at that and followed Draco out into the dark hallway once more. As she closed the
door behind them, cutting off the last source of light they had, she became instantly aggravated at
the pitch black hallway. “Why can't we just *Lumos* some light?”

“I already told you. There are charms in these hallways that prevent it from working. They
aren't meant to be travelled.”

She remained quiet until a rather important detail perked up in her mind. “Umm Draco?”

“Yeah?”

“How long did it take us to get down here?”

“About a half an hour, why?”

“Didn't the potion say to get it to them within fifteen minutes?” Her voice was gaining
pitch as panic started to settle into her system.

Draco paused for a moment before cursing. “Shit.” He stopped and turned to her, though she still
couldn't see him. But she knew that he was looking at her, or what he presumed to be her.
“We're going to have to run, Red.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, now let's go before it's too late!”

Ginny and Draco began sprinting down the winding hallways. As Ginny's eyes began to adjust
to the darkness, she could make out a little of Draco's silhouette to follow. She didn't
really feel like running into walls this time. The two of them picked up the pace as much as their
lungs and limbs would allow. They both knew that their bodies would collapse if they strained
themselves too much but all of that was put behind them. They had to save Harry and Hermione from a
dark fate that was threatening to consume them.

~*~

Ron was in a right mood. Not only was his girlfriend in a coma, but his sister had taken off
with Malfoy and had been gone for a good hour. He had heard what they had said before about how
they could only revive Hermione. When she woke up, she would help them revive Potter and he had to
make sure that didn't happen. An hour or so of deep thought (which was enough strain to give
him a fair few headaches) had paid off. It was simple. All he had to do was threaten Hermione with
the little bit of blackmail he had on her like he always did and she wouldn't help Potter wake
up. She was so simple to manipulate it almost wasn't fair.

Ginny and Draco burst into the wing and Ron's neck snapped over to them. They were both red
in the face and bent over, heaving heavily. It was obvious that they had run here, but why he
didn't understand. Draco lifted his head to look at the clock on the wall and his eyes widened.
He grabbed Ginny's elbow and dragged her over to Hermione's bed. Ron noticed that Draco had
a vial of murky yellow liquid clutched firmly in his hand and assumed that was the antidote. No
words were spoken as Ginny lifted Hermione's head delicately as Draco uncapped and fed her the
potion.

The air was thick with anticipation and worry. Draco and Ginny were both holding their breathes
as they kept their eyes on Hermione. Ron left his cot and was hovering near his sister. He knew
that there was something amiss when she didn't even tell him to give her personal space.

Ginny was beside herself, forgetting the throbbing pain in her lungs with every breath she took.
All that was on her mind was Hermione. Would the potion work? Were they too late? Draco seemed to
be thinking the same thing as he stared down at Hermione with sweat accumulating on his forehead.
He had never been so dependent on something in his entire life and this certainly was a hell of a
first experience. There was no outward sign that the potion was working; the only thing to look for
was the flutter of her eyes, the sudden intake of breath, something to tell them that it had worked
and she was going to be alright.

A minute had passed and they had almost given up hope when Ginny saw Hermione's right eye
twitch. No one else had seemed to notice, but when a small noise emitted from deep within her
throat, a sort of half-moan, half-breath, everyone began to visibly relax. Draco shoulders slumped
and Ginny could see a small smile grace his lips. Ron's mouth was wide open and a grin was
beginning to form. Ginny was full out beaming. Her eyes began to flutter open and Ginny held back a
scream.

Hermione began to see blurred figures around her bed as consciousness swam over her. She
immediately recognized Ginny and Ron's fiery red hair and a head of platinum locks that could
only belong to… Draco. She knew that he was behind this when her dreams began to run longer than
normal. The damned pumpkin juice! She didn't want her first spoken words in what seemed like an
eternity to be those of anger, so she settled on the one name that she saw was absent from the
small crowd gathered around her.

“Harry… where's… Harry?”

Her voice came out husky and Ginny and Draco's faces fell. Ron's, however, remained
smirking and Hermione's brow furrowed. Ginny tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as Hermione
propped herself on her elbows. “Where's Harry?” She asked more firmly.

Ron was the first to speak up, “He's indisposed at the moment.”

The way he said it, his voice dripping with venom, made her spine erupt in shivers. She looked
questioningly at Ginny and she moved to the side, revealing a still figure seemingly asleep on a
cot. A well of emotions swooped over her and jumped out of her bed. No one moved to stop her, not
even Ron. He was taking a sick pleasure in the whole situation.

Hermione kneeled by his bed and traced the side of his face slowly with her palm. It moved a
path down his shoulder and finally rested in his cold hand. She tightened her grip on it and closed
her eyes. She hadn't even realized that she had been crying until she turned over to face the
others and her voice came out high and pitchy. Her heartbroken tone was aimed at Draco, “What d-did
you d-do to him?!”

Draco opened his mouth, but Ginny beat him to the punch. “He didn't do anything, Hermione.”
Hermione wondered why she was defending the monster when Ginny spoke up in a small voice again, “He
did it to himself.”

“What d-do you mean he did it t-to himself?” She asked shakily.

Draco answered her this time, “Well, when he found out that I poisoned you he came to see me
and… heh… straighten me out. When I wouldn't give him the antidote he—he drank it…”

“Well give him the antidote, then!” She exclaimed.

“He can't.” Ginny said, “Harry charmed the butterbeer so that the antidote wouldn't have
any effect on him. So that only you could help him.”

“HE DID *WHAT*?!”

~*~

**A/N: IT'S BACKKKK! Sorry for taking so long!!! But I had a lot of time this past week
with my parents surprising me with a trip up north. I hope you're not too mad at the ending,
but I could only write so much =]**

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