My Confusing (and Hard to Believe) Love Life by the_real_mrs_potter

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 31/10/2009
Last Updated: 12/04/2010
Status: Completed

It all started out innocent enough. I signed up for a penpal through the new system that
Hogwarts was offering in order to "bring us all together in this new era" hoping to find
at least one person who would listen to what I had to say. He turned out to be everything I ever
wished for in a guy. But can you really fall in love with someone through letters? Especially if
you had never known what the word "friend" even meant a few months ago? *sigh* What an
interesting seventh year this is turning out to be.




1. The Beginning of the End... of the Beginning
-----------------------------------------------



**A/N:** **I'm back! After two months of rest, I've returned to the wonderful world
of fanfiction. This chapter has been a long time coming. I've been working on it for the past
two weeks, gaining inspiration and losing it just as fast. It's going to take a while to get
back into the swing of things, but I'm sure it'll all be fine in the long run. This is the
story you guys chose towards the end of** **In Too Deep****, so I hope you don't regret
your decision because of the small size and lack of plot. It's just an introduction chapter.
The story** **will** **get better.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is from JKR'S imagination. And so is Harry/Ginny—when she was
experimenting with LSD.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**The Beginning of the End… of the Beginning**

I twisted the folded parchment in my hand idly and watched as the title moved in and out of my
vision. *Becoming a Hogwarts Pen Pal:* *Change Someone's Life Today!* *Make a New
Friend!* was printed in bold red font right above a picture of two students hugging. I
recognized the couple as Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones from last year. The picture was most likely
taken by Colin Creevy, the local school photographer. He had been notoriously known to take
pictures of hot-shot Harry Potter in his earlier years but had long since moved on and was now
documenting more important things. What's considered more important than Harry Potter, you ask?
Well just about everything. But we'll get to that later. Right now the important thing is
figuring out how in the world I picked up this brochure at the end of term last week.

It had been lying on my desk ever since I unpacked and during that night I could have sworn that
I heard it talk. At first I let it slide as just my mind playing tricks on me. But the next night I
heard it again—and again… *and again*. Since I'm already of age, I cast a detection spell
on the possessed parchment and found that it was charmed. I dug through my bag for one of the books
I had borrowed from the Hogwarts library for summer reading (Madame Pince has always allowed me to
do so, as I was her favorite student and she knew that I would *never* harm a book. They are
sacred, after all) and after a bit of reading I found that it was a reminder charm set to go off at
a certain point to remind whoever need be of an event or, in my case, a deadline. Like an alarm,
only more annoying and going off hours before it was set to. At first I wondered if it was a joke.
I mean, who in their right mind would set a reminder charm to go off in the middle of the night?
Mine must be a defect.

*“**I MUST DISTRESS FOR YOU TO CH**E**CK YES SO YOU MAY FIND A
FRIEND**!**”*

I jerked and let the letter fall back onto my desk. Nope. Definitely not a defect. But why is it
going off now? Again? At random intervals?

I pondered this for a good five minutes. Surely there must be some explanation as to why this
brochure was being defective? And then it hit me—Dumbledore set this up. What would he use as the
charm's trigger?

*“MOVE YOUR QUILL, YOU KNOW THE DRILL! JUST SIGN BELOW AND I WILL GO!”*

I gritted my teeth and opened the brochure once more. I scanned the almost memorized layout for
a clue as to how to turn the annoying voice off. And then I saw it. Beneath a list of how I could
benefit from the new system was a single sentence in fine print. So fine, in fact, that I
couldn't see it with my naked eyes. It looked like a squiggly line rather than a group of
words. I groped around beside me until my hand found my velvet glasses case. Not many people knew I
needed glasses. Well it wasn't as if they cared, anyway. So why bother telling? I only needed
them for reading print like the one in this pamphlet—print so tiny that even a person with 20/20
vision had to squint to see it.

I slipped the square-rimmed frames on the bride of my nose and adjusted it with my index finger
quickly. As I leaned forward I could scarcely see the letters that made up the small sentence.
*Beware of the…*

“Hermione dear, would you like a ham sandwich?!”

I didn't answer right away. Not because I didn't hear my mother's shrill voice, but
because I was currently on the floor with a hand over my chest. Can your heart actually leap out of
your body?

“Hermione?!”

“N-no!” I said quickly, pushing myself back into my chair. “No thank you!”

I heard a faint shuffling downstairs and turned back to the brochure. I waited a few seconds
before resuming my previous position. The last thing I wanted was to get closer and closer to
cardiac arrest via my mother. Pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose I squinted and saw the
small print.

*Beware of the rem**inder charm! If you are prone to easily scaring, falling out of
chairs, or have pre-existing heart conditions,* *DO* *NOT* *pick* *up this
brochure.*

“Well that's helpful.” I muttered. “Use the print that only pixies can see.”

I set the brochure down and leaned back so that the spine of my chair folded slightly to my
weight. This was all getting too frustrating to bear. I can feel a headache forming behind my eyes.
I think now would be a good time to think up a plan on how to approach this little situation that I
got myself into. It would be easier to come up with a solution if I cross-reference how this all
started. Besides, it can't be *that* complex. Now, let's see… the last day of
term…

*“All right, settle down, settle down.”*

*The previously buzz of conversation quickly died down at the headmaster's
just-loud-enough order. He smiled gently and rose gingerly from his seat at the head's table. I
craned my head from* *the book I was reading for my Ancient Runes class and regarded him
curiously. It wasn't every day that he spoke up in the middle of
d**essert**—especially the last one of the year just before everyone was to rush up to
their dorms to pack at the last minute. Morons. I'd already been packed for a good week and a
half. Well, it wasn't as if I* *had much to pack anyway—mostly books and parchment seeing
as how I owned little to no clothing. It's a waste of good money in my opinion. Why spend
twenty pounds on a sweater when you could get the newest edition of* Hogwarts, a History *with
complimentary book sleeve? It's all in the strategy.*

*“Thank you.” Dumbledore said with a slight nod. My attention was drawn back to him as I
adjusted myself in my seat. “Now, I'm sure that you are all eager to get to your dorms and
finish up—or rather start, for most of you**—your packing.”* How did he know? *Oh, who am
I kidding? It' Dumbledore. “But I have an announcement that simply cannot wait for the morning.
I assume you all know of Mr. Potter'**s recent conquest over* *Voldermort?” A roar
erupted throughout the hall. I chipped in my own two cents by clapping at a speed that matched
those around me.* *It wasn't every day that a sixteen-year-old defeated the greatest dark
wizard of all time**, after all**.* *I saw the man of the hour get up out of his
seat while his friends pushed and shoved him with catcalls and nicknames only people missing a
dozen or so brain cells could come up with.* *Moment officially ruined.* *I abruptly
stopped clapping and rolled my eyes. Of course he would take to the spotlight like a good little
monkey. Dumbledore wasn't doing* *much to stop him, either. He was smiling like his
grandson just won the Nobel Prize. And just when I was growing to respect him…*

*The applause died down and Potter returned to his seat next to his groupies. I saw Dumbledore
adjust his collar and clear his throat (for dramatic affect or simply because his robes were too
tight, I don't know) before continuing his rudely interrupted announcement. He didn't look
too bothered by it, a fact that I am choosing to overlook. “As I was saying—in result of Mr.
Potter's triumph**,* *the professor's and I have come up with a way to loosen the
tight grounds.* *We are aware that because of the newly acquired environment, some of you may
feel tense or anxious. And because of that we have decided to set up a new system of
co**mmunication between students* *very similar to the Muggle pen-pal system. For those
of you who are not familiar with it, the premise is quite simple. Si**gn up and you will be
matched* *with a partner selected by a charm composed by our* *very* *own Professor
Flitwick.” Dumbledore motioned to the seat on his right occupied by a blushing professor**. I
couldn't help but giggle. Professor Flitwick had always been far too modest. “And that charm
chooses the best person with whom you can carry a conversation with.* *Simply* *put—a
Chemistry Charm. In this new era, you would have someone to express your* *concerns with that
wouldn't judge you because of who you are.” A slight murmur was heard among some students and
Dumbledore chose to take pity on those who couldn't decipher context clues. “The letters you
will send shall be Anonymous unless you chose to reveal your true identity.” I heard a handful of
students say “Ohhhhh”. Okay, maybe not a handful. But can you blame me for wanting to make our
school sound the least bit intelligent?*

*“For those who are interested, pamphlets are available in the entrance hall. Now, off to your
dormitories!”*

*I packed up my book bag and slung it over my shoulder. As I followed the crowd of students
exiting the* *great ha**ll, I overheard groups expressing their thoughts over the new
pen-pal system. I couldn't pick up whole sentences of theirs if I tried but they all went along
the lines of* *“sounds like an easy way to get laid” and “I can make my own friends!” All
thoroughly predictable reactions. People these days didn't appreciate the efforts our
professors made to better improve our lives unless it had to do with cancelling exams or giving
away free candy. Honestly! If I wasn't so set on my studies and actually liked the people I was
surrounded by I would be happy to participate. But, sadly, the people that inhabit this school
aren't exactly the sharpest tools in the shed, and therefore not worth my time.*

*As I entered the entrance hall I saw the display that Dumbledore had mentioned. I**t was
set by the double doors that led out to the grounds and had a large* *green* *neon sign
with a blinking arrow saying: “PICK UP YOUR PEN-PAL BROCHURE TODAY AND START A NEW BEGINNING!”
Cheesy. Very cheesy.*

*I didn't realize I had walked over there until I was rea**ching for one of the
pamphlets on the top shelf. I studied the cover for a moment before I felt a presence behind me. It
could have been anyone, but the fact that my back tensed up signified that it wasn't*
*another peer coming to look at the display. My muscles didn't contract around just
anyone.*

*“Hey Fuzzball.”*

*I gritted my teeth but kept my eyes on the pamphlet. “Potter”*

*Call it eyes in the back of my head, but I could picture him scanning the shelf and realizing
what I was doing over here if he hadn't noticed the fluorescent sign already. And knowing him,
he probably didn't.* *“Really Granger? I thought you had given up by now.”*

*I couldn't resist turning around and glaring at him. I opened my mouth to retort, but he
took my pause as hesitancy to refute.*

*“Ahh well.**” He put his hands on his hips. In all honesty, it made him look like a
statue—hollow with no brain.* *“**I don't even know why you bother anymore. I
mean—after first year I thought you would have just stopped trying.”*

*My jaw clenched and I kicked his shin out of reflex. Hard.*

*“Christ, Granger!” He hissed. “You don't need to resort of physical abuse.”*

*I smirked at him and clenched the pamphlet in my right hand. “After years of out-witting you
I thought it was about time for a change. Besides, you should be thanking me. I could have kicked
something else entirely.**”* *I saw him flinch and knew that I had made my point.*
*“Now if you'll excuse me, I have some reading to do.”*

*I walked away* *before he could make another bogus comment. Potter always knew how to
get on my nerves—one of his many unneeded talents. The others being among burping the alphabet,
having horrible timing, and always finding a way into trouble. How did I know of these skills?
Well, they were kind of hard to ignore when you shared a common room together for six years.
Thankfully, I knew this was the last year I would have to deal with him. I was a shoe-in for Head
Girl next year and would share a common room with the Head Boy far on the other side of the castle.
I didn't really care who it was going to be. Anyone is better than Potter; even that slime
Malfoy.*

*It wasn't until I was halfway up the staircase that I realized I was still carrying the
brochure. I turned around quickly, set on returning it, when I saw that Potter was still standing
there.* *He looked to be deep in thought,* *probably still trying to think of a comeback.
Poor guy.* *Sometimes I almost felt sorry for him.*

*And now I'm over it.*

*I sighed and turned bac**k around,* *set on finishing up my Ancient Runes
text**book in the warmth of the common room fire.*

Of course! It all made sense now.

When I got to Gryffindor tower, I put the brochure in my trunk to dispose of later and
completely forgot about it. I was too absorbed with my anger at Potter and my Ancient Runes
textbook to give it another thought. And now it was haunting me.

It was all Potter's fault!

If he didn't get me all fired up, then I would have thrown the brochure away and be sleeping
in until noon. Damn Potter.

I opened the brochure and took out the slip of paper that had been tucked inside. When I opened
the brochure for the first time after too many sleepless nights, it had fallen out from a secret
compartment. It was a form to be a pen-pal. All that needed to be filled out was a name and if you
wanted to be a recipient of the first letter or write the first one. I bit my lip. I knew it
wasn't the only way to make the noise stop but there was a part of me that wanted to try it
out. Not only would I have someone to talk to… but I would prove Potter wrong. I would have a
friend. A real friend.

Plus the fact that I would be benefitting the school by participating, which is what
*should* be motivating me. I mean, I've made it six years without friends and am top of my
class, proving that you don't need them to succeed. Take that stereotypes! But there's
always been a part of me that wanted to talk to someone about stupid stuff. Stuff like Quidditch
and butterbeer. Not that I would have much time to talk anyway with all the time I dedicate to
studying.

I glance out the window and see our neighbors in their backyard. My parents and I live in a
subdivision where *everyone* has a pool. So the twin 5-year-old-girls next door are taking
turns diving into the deep end with their friends. It's their birthday today and they have
close to thirty kids running around their extensive backyard and deck. Some are jumping in the
bounce house, others are swimming, and a select few are at the buffet table stuffing their faces. I
smiled sadly at the scene. The most people I'd ever had at a birthday party were ten, and they
were all my spoiled cousins', snotty aunts, and drunken uncles. I thank Merlin every day I
don't have an extensive family. But seeing those girls and their friends makes something go off
in my head. I have everything I could ever want—good grades, loving parents, a stable household.
But not friends. I wanted them. And not only that… but people (and by people, I mean Potter) think
I can't ever have any which makes me want them even more just to prove them (*him*)
wrong.

*“GO ON NOW, DON'T BE SHY! JUST SIGN YOUR NAME AND* *GIVE IT A TRY!”*

Making up my mind, I grab a ball-point pen from a jar I keep on my desk and scribble down my
name. Out of reflex, I checked the box signifying that I wanted to write the first letter. After
doing that, I grabbed an extra sheet of parchment I had leftover from school and began working on a
short introductory letter. No need to overdo it, right?

*To Whomever This May Concern,*

*Hi. This is my first time doing something like this and I'm not going to lie—I'm
nervous. Dumbledore said this was to bring us all closer together in this new era and although it
sounds cheesy, I think our school needs it. I don't want to get too overly talkative in the
first letter and ruin this thing so I'll just leave it at that. I hope that through these
letters we can develop some sort of understanding or even friendship. Do we have a deal? Sorry. Bad
joke. I hope to hear back from you soon and until then Happy Summer Holidays!*

*Sincerely**,* *
Anonymous*

I read over the note a few more times checking for the usual bad grammar, spelling, etcetera—not
entirely happy with the note, but too eager to re-write it. I grabbed a spool of yarn and ripped
off a piece to tie around the rolled up parchment. As I tied the double knot securely around the
letter, I looked at the directions for delivery and saw there was an option for students without
owls. Well that's convenient. *Fold your letter and/or form into the brochure.*

Fold the letter into the brochure? The directions were too vague to take seriously, but I
complied regardless. Curiosity always got the better of me. I wasn't expecting anything major
to happen.

POP!

I stared blankly at my desk. The brochure was gone. That's right *gone*. It was almost
as if it had dissaparated. But a piece of paper couldn't do that. Could it?

I sighed. No use thinking about it now. It was too late. All I *could* do was wait. But I
couldn't help the nagging feeling the back of my head. If I'd never had a friend, who in
the world would the charm set me up with?

-->



2. First Impression Last a Lifetime (Right?)
--------------------------------------------



**A/N: Alright, so I've decided that my update time is going to change a bit. Instead of
setting a specific date, it'll be between two. Can you guess which ones? That's right! The
weekend. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday are the only times I have to write. I started this chapter on
Friday night, was gone all Saturday, and finished it up on Sunday. Sorry =[ I really hate that
school has limited my writing times. But please, enjoy the story anyways! The plot is starting to
move along and will pick up some speed very soon =]**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine! Neither is Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Draco,
Luna—well now I'm depressed.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**First Impressions Last A Lifetime (Right?)**

It had been two days since I wrote the letter.

Throughout the 48 evil-brochure-free hours I had to myself, there was plenty of time to finally
start my summer homework. Since this would be the last summer before school for our class, the
professors saw fit to overload their eldest students with piles of coursework to be completed
before the start of term. It wasn't so bad once I regained consciousness after going over the
reading list. Overreacting, you say? Well you get shoved with three textbooks for five subjects to
memorize and annotate. Oh and don't forget a six foot long essay accurately summing up each
subject. I can picture the founders twitching in their graves right now. They started a school for
wizards, not a torture chamber for the young and innocent.

Anyways, back to the point. I had made only a small dent in my Potions textbook when a thought
struck me. *What if the charm didn't work?* It's not as if I doubted Professor
Flitwick's ability or anything. But given my history with antisocial tendencies, would the
charm recognize that I was incapable of any human communication? I talked with some of my
classmates, sure. Sometimes more than I deemed necessary. But I never felt that *click* of
chemistry—that feeling you get when you just know you could talk to that person for hours about
nothing and everything. It's depressing, really. The only people I have extended conversations
with nowadays are with Crookshanks and my mother. Not that I don't love them both, but it can
get quite dull.

I know I'm over-analyzing the situation, but that's just what I do. It's better than
being in the dark all the time and never knowing the answers. I can only imagine what that could
feel like.

Setting my quill down, I stretched my back and heard a few dull cracks. I caught sight of the
green trees outside my window and smiled. The weather outside was sunny with a slight breeze; the
perfect weather to take a walk. I looked guiltily down at my work and then back out the window.
What to choose? Homework had always been my priority ever since I started primary school. But, then
again, so had piano until I quit when I turned nine. Besides, it was a beautiful day out. Who was I
to argue with the odds? I had plenty of time to finish up more work when I got back. It wasn't
as if I was going to stay outside forever. I never did.

I leapt out of my seat and opened up the middle drawer where I kept my jeans. I pulled on a pair
and grabbed a light jacket from one of the posts on my bed. Pocketing my keys just in case and
grabbing a Jane Austen novel, I pushed open my door and went downstairs. I smelled the scent of
fresh-baked blueberry muffins as I passed the kitchen and stopped in my tracks. Ohhh man. My mum
had made muffins for breakfast. Knowing full well that my walk could wait, I followed my nose into
the kitchen and saw a dozen steaming blueberry muffins just waiting for me to devour them. You see,
when my mum makes muffins, it's hard not to have just one. She makes them from scratch and I
swear that each bite is like a little piece of heaven. More times than not, I've eaten the
whole batch all by myself. It's a wonder I haven't gotten fat.

I noticed my mum sitting at the table reading as I made a beeline for the island where the
muffins were sitting. Oh they looked so good in their paper cups. She even but some icing on top.
It's like she knew I was coming.

“Hey mum!” I said brightly as I reached for a muffin.

“Good morning, Hermione.” She replied without taking her eyes off of her book.

I ripped off a small bit of a muffin and blew on it slightly before taking a bite. I knew I
should wait before eating one but they never tasted nearly as good when they were cool. “I'm
going for a walk to the park.” I informed her.

She lifted her head from the confines of her James Patterson novel. “Alright sweetie, but
don't forget to take your keys with you. Your father and I have a meeting at one.”

I pulled out the keys from my pocket and jingled them. “Way ahead of you.”

She smiled, “Well be careful.”

“Don't worry about me, mum.” I reassured. “I can handle myself.”

“I know, dear. It's a habit.”

I removed the paper cup the muffin was held in and threw it in the nearby waste bin. I took
another nibble of the delectable muffin and headed out the door. I knew my father was most likely
in the backyard doing something with the pool so I didn't see him on my way out. You see, our
pool was like his baby. Since our entire neighborhood had one, he made it his mission to make ours
the best. So far he had it lined in white marble, added a diving board, had an adjoined whirlpool
installed, put in underwater lights that faded into different colors, and a long slide. We also had
a small pool house and cabana where we held our pool toys, volleyball net, and drinks for when we
were entertaining.

Obsessed? You betcha. But I loved my dad and it was nice that he had a hobby. Oh, and the money
to make it happen. That was always a good thing. If it weren't for my parent's dentist
practice in downtown London, we would have been in debt years ago. Not to sound conceded or
anything. The last thing I wanted was to flaunt off my parent's status. It would just earn me a
following of people who didn't like me for me—but for my parent's money.

I shut the door behind me and made my way down our short driveway, still thoroughly enjoying my
muffin's blueberry goodness. I reached the sidewalk and turned left towards where the park was.
It was only a few minutes' walk from my house. I remember when I was younger I used to go there
all the time with my parents. I would play there for hours with my parents sitting on the bench and
looking at me as though I were the only child on the swing set. Which, more times than not, I was.
But no need to feel sorry for me. I work better when I'm alone, remember?

As I walked down the street and saw the familiar houses of the neighborhood I grew up in, I
forgot how much I missed home. Hogwarts always occupied my every thought when I was there. I never
even spared a moment to think about my parents half the time. I loved them dearly, and they knew
that, so when I didn't write or come home for the holidays, they understood. I was blessed to
have them. Usually the only reason I stayed at Hogwarts was to study for the upcoming exams. But
there were other reasons as well. I absolutely loved Hogwarts in the winter so much that I could
never bring myself to leave. Sometimes I would just go outside in my warmest clothes and just spin
in the falling snowflakes.

Goddamn it. I'm such a sap.

Luckily I reached the park moments later. As I walked up to the play set, I saw my favorite spot
atop the wooden castle was open and resisted the urge to climb up there. I came out here to be
outside, not cooped up inside some castle like some princess with no morals or sense of
self-defense. That's probably the reason I never got into most Disney princess movies—I was
always too busy criticizing their decisions and lack of a brain. Especially Cinderella. Everyone
knows the fairy godmother did all the work.

I found a bench strategically placed half in the shade and half in the sun. I sat on the sunny
side and opened my book, Sense & Sensibility. I always brought fiction novels for times like
these. A girl can only do homework for so long before needing to escape. Some chose boys, I chose
novels. Easy as pie. Besides, boys took up too much time. With books, you can choose when to stop
quite easily—with boys, it's a whole other story. How do I know this? Well, that's a story
for another time. Because the moment my mind drifted to the past, a loud *POP* sounded near
me. My whole body lurched literally five feet in the air. I looked frantically around for the
source of the noise, afraid it was a gun, or worse, someone apparating in a Muggle-infested park.
My heartbeat was so loud; I swore it was going to jump out of my chest and onto the grass in front
of me. My quick search around the nearby parameter was unsuccessful and I put a hand on my chest to
try and steady my heartbeat. I knew it would do nothing to help, but I was too startled to care
about proper techniques. All around me, people were unperturbed by the noise as if something like
that happened every day. Or they didn't hear it at all.

Oh Merlin, I was going crazy.

I removed my hand from my chest to punch my book in frustration, but another noise stopped me
before I could touch it. It was a good thing, too. How on earth could I ever punch a book? It's
criminal! The noise was a high screeching that I could recognize anywhere. An owl. There was an
*owl* in the park. Ohmygod.

I knew it came from behind me so I turned and had to put my hand over my mouth not to scream. It
was right next to me. I removed my hand from my mouth a moment later and let out a breath. It was
the most beautiful owl I had ever seen—snow white with deep golden eyes that felt as though they
were penetrating into my very soul.

“Wow.” I said in a breathy whisper.

I unconsciously reached foreword to stroke its feathers and was shocked when it didn't
retaliate by biting me or flying away. It just sat there and leaned into my touch slightly. Wow. I
was so mesmerized by this creature that I didn't notice the letter tied to its leg. I only
realized it was there when it lifted its leg to shove it in my face. And I mean that quite
literally. The note, thanks to the height of the bench's back, was shoved into my mouth.
Thankfully, my mouth was closed and the only thing that happened to the letter was that it got
crumpled a bit. Crisis averted.

I grabbed the parchment and checked the back for a return address. There was none. That's
odd. I looked at the owl and I *swear* that it shrugged. I brushed it off as just a trick of
the eyes and opened the letter. *Dear Anonymous**…*

My pen-pal! I'm not a hopeless case after all! I quickly began reading the letter:

*Dear Anonymous,*

*Hi. It's safe to say that you're not alone in that respect.* *Our school these
past few years has become a superstitious madhouse full of fakes and wannabe's. Why can't
everyone just accept who they are and not what they assume they're supposed to be? There must
be something in the pumpkin juice.* -I laughed quietly- *All I know is that the people I'm
surrounded by, save for a few, are only there because of who I am. It's quite annoying,
actually. So yes, I am definitely interested in a friendship not ruled by names and ranks.
Personality is the key. Oh gods, now I sound like Dumbledore. Fantastic. And don't apologize
for a bad joke**. I don't think anyone is perfect in that respect. I found it funny,
therefore, you're fine.* -I smiled- *So* *I think one of us should start a
conversation that doesn't have to do with formalities. Let's see… How is your summer
homework going? Is it just me or do all of the professors suddenly hate us?*

*Sincerely,* *Joe Bloggs*

I put the letter down and smiled. I liked this person already.

I looked back at the owl and saw it staring straight ahead, as though its eyes were trained on
prey. My brow furrowed and I turned towards where she was looking. My blood ran cold. There, not
even ten meters away, was a posse I did *not* feel like dealing with right now. Ever since
primary school this group of girls had been pestering me, trying to get an emotional response—I
called them the Plastic Clones. Each one of them looked exactly like the other. They were all
wearing some form of pink and had on heels that looked as though they would snap at any moment
under the right amount of pressure. Maybe if three of them got on top of each other like circus
performers. They were at least eighty pounds apiece, so it shouldn't be that difficult.

I knew they were honing in on me the moment I made eye contact with the leader, Amber Freeman.
Her eyes were the color of icicles and her hair looked as though she had bleached it a little too
much to be considered healthy. The skirt she was wearing shouldn't even be categorized as
clothing for someone of her age. It looked more like something a three-year-old would wear in the
sandbox—or a lady of the night on her corner.

“Her-my-on-kneeeeee!” She drew my name out as if I was on one of those cheesy game shows my
grandmother watched.

“Amber.” I regarded her coolly. I eyed the rest of her cronies and nodded at each one of them
“Stephanie, Danielle, Amy, Suzanne.”

They all regarded me with the same cool manor. Well, except for Amber, who was still grinning
like an idiot. “How have you been?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“And how's that boarding school—Pigpimples?”

“Hogwarts.” I corrected, “And it's fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some
reading to do.”

I picked up my book and strategically hid the note a few pages ahead. *They gave
themselves…*

“Aww don't be like that, Herms.” Amber said sweetly.

“*Don't* call me Herms.” I said without looking up from my book. I hated that nickname
with a passion ever since my Aunt Midge called me it while I was on her lap one Christmas and
pinched my cheeks until they were numb. Oh what a precious childhood I had.

Her voice turned snappy. “I can call you whatever I please, *Herms*.”

I narrowed my eyes and looked up at her dangerously. “Do you really want to start with me,
Amber?”

“Well… yeah.” She said in a *well-no-shit* tone, “What are you going to do, hit me with
your book?”

The clones laughed and I simply rolled my eyes. They really expected me to use a book as a
weapon? I swear these girls got dumber with age. I heard the mysterious owl hoot behind me as if to
say “Bring it on, Blondie.”

It seemed that the Barbie's didn't notice the owl behind me until now. Score one for
them.

“What a cute pidgin!” Suzanne cooed.

“It's not a pidgin, it's an eagle.” Amy corrected.

“It is not. It's a pidgin.”

“Eagle.”

“Pidgin!”

“Eagle!”

“*Pidgin!*”

“*Eagle!*”

“Oh my god, it's an *owl*!”

They all looked at me with their heads tilted and noses scrunched. “Huh?”

“An owl. You know… *hoot hoot*.” As if to emphasize my point, the owl hooted.

“Ohhhhhh.” They chorused.

“I think I just lost a dozen brain cells…” I mumbled while rubbing my temples.

“What did you say?” Stephanie asked.

“Listening to you people is like going to a kegger filled with a bunch of drunken sorority
girls.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Amber said in a dark tone.

“What else would it be, an invitation to tea?” Before I could react, Amber grabbed my book from
my lap. “Hey! Give that back!”

“No.” She said, fingering the pages idly. “I think I'll keep it. Beef up my
intelligence.”

“Good luck with that.” I said sourly. She could keep the book for all I cared. All I wanted was
my letter. Oh my god, *my letter*. It was still in the book!

And just like that, the letter fell onto the ground. I held my breath, praying they didn't
notice it. Amber continued to flip through the pages as the other sniggered behind her. It was only
a few inches away from my foot. If only I could reach it… what am I talking about? Of course I can
reach it. I edged my foot a few inches foreword as they all hovered around my book. Only a few more
inches… come on… *come on*… aha! Got it!

I quickly pulled my foot back and pushed the letter beneath the bench so that shadows could
provide as cover. Now all I had to do was get the book back from their overly priced, manicured
fingers. I was just getting to the best part and could not afford to explain to my mother why one
of her prized books suddenly went missing.

“Alright Posh Spice, give me my book back.”

“Are you deaf, Granger? I'm—keeping—it.”

“Over my dead body.” I said warningly as I got up from my seat on the bench and stomped up close
to Amber and her overly made up face.

“Excuse me. Personal bubble.” She motioned to the air around her and nearly slapped me in the
face—which would have been appropriate seeing as how listening to her nasally voice made me want to
do that to myself.

“Easy, I'll just take your needle-point shoe and pop it.”

“Like hell you will!” Amber said, her face growing pink. “These cost me three-hundred
pounds!”

“You or your daddy's credit card?”

“Her daddy's credit card of—” Amy started.

Amber put a hand up, which apparently meant to stop. It looked more like she was signaling an
approaching car to halt. “Regardless. You are not going to touch my shoes.”

“You sure about that?” I knew that I couldn't use magic in front of them, but that
doesn't mean I wouldn't take them off the old fashioned way.

As I opened my mouth to tell her that I *was* sure, I heard a rustling behind me. It was
the owl that had been quietly nestled on the bench, ruffling its wings and looking as though it was
about to attack. I heard a few sharp intakes of breath behind me and couldn't help feeling
slightly frightened myself. Its wings opened up and spanned what seemed to be two feet. But before
I could get too freaked out, it winked at me. That's right, *winked*. But no matter how
bizarre that was, I trusted my instinct. I nodded my head at the sneaky owl and it took off from
its perch on the bench to fly at the group of cowering teenagers. They all screeched as a whole and
I couldn't help at laugh at their terrified faces as I followed the owl's path in the sir
above them. Amber threw my book in the air as she led the pack away from the owl, which was now
hovering over them and pecking just close enough to be believable. I caught the paperback and
watched as it led them halfway across the park. Even after it stopped chasing them, they continued
to run to the outer borders of the fence. You would think they were being mugged the way they were
flapping about. Ahh, well. I had no complaints.

The owl flew back smoothly and landed on my shoulder. I looked up at it with a smirk and said
with a sigh “They didn't even say goodbye…” The owl rubbed its head against mine affectionately
and I petted it fondly. “Thank you. You did an impeccable job.”

It hooted in response and I figured now was as good of a time as any to head back home. My book
was as good as ruined for the day and there was still a huge pile of books and essays that needed
to be finished plus a new response letter that was looking more and more appealing to start.

When I reached my house a few minutes later with the owl still on my shoulder, I saw that my
mum's car was missing and there was a small note on the front door informing me that they left
early to catch brunch. I fished the keys out of my pocket and unlocked the front door. I closed the
door softly behind me and crumpled up the note in my hands. I threw it into a nearby waste bin and
crossed my arms idly. I wasn't sure what to do with the owl now that we were inside. My parents
would probably go ballistic if they ever found out. Not to mention Crookshanks, who was taking a
nap on the parlor room couch.

Well, what they don't know won't hurt them.

I walked upstairs to my room and only then did the owl fly off my shoulder. It flew over to
Crookshanks' scratching post in the corner next to my desk. I smiled and sat down, looking for
something to give the poor owl. Who knows how far its journey was? I don't know if it would
like Crookshanks' treats or not, so I grabbed one along with a carrot from a plate I was
nibbling off of earlier. I held out the cat treat and it stuck its beak up slightly in disgust. I
knew I would have done the same, so I didn't scorn it and fed it the carrot instead. It liked
that much better. I loved Crookshanks, but his taste in food was just terrible. I mean, sardine and
artichoke-flavored cat treats? Just thinking about the combination made me cringe.

As it worked on the carrot, I grabbed some parchment from my school trunk and a quill with blue
self-inking pen I bought at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Ally. I may not like the two
youngest of their family, but I always had a respect for the twins when they went to Hogwarts. Even
if I gave them one too many detentions for testing their products on the gullible first and second
years. They were the most successful businessmen I knew—and they did it all by following their
dreams and coming into quite a large sum of money to do so. I never questioned that, but I've
always wondered…

I started the letter knowing exactly what I wanted to write.

*Dear Joe Bloggs,*

*I'm glad to hear we're on the same page. I'm also sorry that you feel that way
about the people who call themselves your “friends”. That's part of the reason I don't
associate with many people. They either use you or hurt you.* *But enough of my bitter
melodramatics. That homework is insane! I usually don't* *mind the regular amount of
coursework* *the professor's give us during the school year but my Merlin, what happened?
It's as though they want us to fail our final year. I've barely made a dent in my homework
and this pen-pal thing isn't helping. Just joking. See? I didn't demean my joke! I think
I'm making progress. How about you?* *Have you gotten any done? And I really have to ask:
What's the name of your owl? I don't even know if it's a boy or girl! But that's
probably just me wanting to respect its privacy. But it really is* *a* *spectacular*
*creature**. You're very lucky.*

*Sincerely,
Anonymous*

Feeling satisfied with the letter, I folded it accordingly and wrapped another piece of string
around it. I turned towards the owl to see if it was done with its snack and saw looking at me with
a pointed look. I hope it wasn't waiting long for me to finish. Look at me, feeling sorry for
keeping an owl waiting. How caring.

I handed the letter to the owl and it took it with a small nip to my finger. I pulled back
slightly and looked to see if it left a mark. It didn't. When I turned back to the owl, it was
gone. What a way to make an exit. But I knew I would be seeing it again soon and would have a name
to call it by then. *It* just seemed so derogatory. But one can't help it if they
can't tell the gender. I'll just let my new pen-pal tell me.

Oh, my new pen-pal.

They had only sent me one letter and I was already feeling a connection with them. Even though
we are in two completely different situations, I can still relate. It seemed as though their
“friends” were really missing out. But who knows? Even though the first impression had been made,
it could always change. They could turn out to be a total jerk and totally screw me over.
That's usually what friends do anyway. Screw you over. But that's all in the past. I'll
have time to wallow in my self pity later. For now, I have work to start on. Forget about Joe Biggs
for a few hours.

Oh who am I kidding? I can't.

This is going to be a very interesting summer.

-->



3. Old Habits Die Hard
----------------------



**A/N: OMGOMGOMGOMG** **New Moon** **comes out in 5 days! I'm super excited =] I
already have my ticket for the midnight showing and just am soooo hyper with excitement it's
not even funny. But, unfortunately, the day of the movie premiere is the first day of my exams. Oh
well. I'll worry about that later. For now, here's the next chapter of** **Love
Life****. Unfortunately, it's more of a filler chapter, informing you more about
Hermione's character****. But most of you had questions about why she is the way she is, so
hopefully this will help. And as for Harry and Hermione's non-existent friendship, the details
about how that came about will soon be revealed. Don't worry, you won't be disappointed.
But for now, enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. He's Hermione's =]**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Old Habits Die Hard**

There comes a point in a young person's life when they realize that they need to make their
own money. I've known this since I was seven when my parents sat me down in the living room and
informed me of the basics. This was a full four years before the pivotal “talk” with my mum, so at
the time it was pretty overwhelming. Some may argue that they informed me about my future about a
decade too early, but I think it was for the best. I took their advice to heart and have never
taken anything for granted since. As the years progressed, my parent's workload fluctuated up
and down to the point where I didn't know if I was going to see my parents when I woke up or
when I went to sleep. So I took it upon myself to make myself food, clean the house, and take on
all the duties that they never had time to do. Despite my parent's plentiful income, they never
hired a nanny. They were old-fashioned to the core and didn't want someone else raising their
daughter. So from the time I was eight, I have taken care of myself.

My parents acquired their own practice when I was thirteen. It quickly became unnecessary for me
to continue my duties soon after because of their new flexible schedule. But something like taking
care of yourself doesn't wear off just like that. It becomes habit. So instead of doing work
around the house I began looking for work elsewhere. Unfortunately, most stores in the Muggle world
don't hire anyone under sixteen. But it was last year I realized that I didn't just have to
look for work in London—there was a whole other location entirely that I could apply. Granted, it
took me awhile to figure it out, but it still paid off in the end.

Last summer I applied for a job at the stationary store in Diagon Alley, “The Write Expression”.
I had also applied to “Flourish & Blotts” as well, but unfortunately for me, they weren't
hiring at the time. I would have loved to work there more than anything else, but fate had other
plans for me. It's ironic that I would now need the discount for the stationary more than
books.

I found out a week after I applied that I had gotten the job. So a week into the summer before
my sixth year, I started helping out the owner, Mrs. Oliver. I took inventory, restocked shelves,
manned the cash register, swept the floors; basically did anything she asked me too. Mrs. Oliver
was a kindly woman in her late thirties with dusty brown hair and pale complexion. She was
Muggleborn, like me, and had a tendency to wear a lot of argyle sweaters. She was so lovely to me
and didn't take my younger age into consideration when giving me stuff to do around the store,
which I appreciated. Throughout the year I've worked with her, she's become more of a
friend than employer. Yes, a friend. I don't make friends at school, but with people
fifteen-odd years my senior. Call me crazy, but I like my method better.

My first day back at work was on a Wednesday morning. The store itself doesn't open until
eight, but I like to arrive fresh, if you get my meaning. So I set my alarm for six so I could take
a shower, make myself a nice breakfast, and be out the door before my parents even got out of
bed.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP!*

I slammed the snooze button on my alarm and sleepily got out of bed. This was the time I usually
woke up for classes anyway, so I was already used to the early wake-up call. Sleeping in was nice,
but when you had work to do, it was a waste of precious time.

I padded to the bathroom and turned on the hot water. I stripped my pajamas as I waited for the
temperature to get just right. I'm not a particularly picky person—okay I lied. But I'm
only picky about small things. Things like shower water being exactly ninety-eight degrees. But
that's normal stuff. Everyone has a specific water temperature they like to shower in.
Right?

I pulled the knob that switched the showerhead on and gingerly stepped in. I really loved taking
showers; they gave me time to think. Sometimes, I came up with my best ideas when the hot water
poured on me. In fact, I remember one time in fourth year I received a 120 on a Charms exam the
morning that I took a shower revising each and every question on the review assignment. So really,
the perfect shower lead to the perfect score—with a little extra twenty points on the side, but who
was counting? Okay me. But I had a right to be cocky! I had unlocked the secret to scoring high on
exams. Well, most people knew to study, but just chose not to, claiming it a waist of energy.
I'm sure that if they concentrated on things other than sex and gossip, they would get
120's, too.

Oh, who am I kidding? Hogwarts was full of washouts and whores.

I turned off the shower after doing a full wash of my hair and body. I pulled a towel from the
hanger close to the sliding door and dried my skin in a path from my feet to my hair. I stepped out
of the shower and in front of the fogged mirror to brush my teeth. I rubbed the precipitation with
my fist and began the two-minute cleaning of my teeth. Yes, I do stick to dental regulations. My
parents are dentists, I have no choice. Well, it's not as if they were looming over my shoulder
and edging me on. But I had a problem with habits and not being able to break it. Except for not
having any friends my age, but now is not the time nor place.

I spit into the sink and grabbed the glass full of water to wash out my mouth. Now finished with
my bathroom routine, I exited and went back into my room to change. Since I work in a family owned
stationary store, the only dress code is what the boss makes it. And in Mrs. Oliver's case, she
doesn't care as long as it's appropriate. So I grab a pair of dark wash jeans, plain white
tee, and button up green jumper. Pulling on my black trainers, I head downstairs to make myself a
healthy breakfast. I'm in the mood for eggs and toast.

I grab the milk, eggs, and white bread from the fridge and slowly prepare them. When I first
began cooking, it was pure disaster. I tried to cook spaghetti for dinner and ended up burning it.
Don't ask me how, I just did. But just to be safe, now I take my time while cooking anything
more complicated than cereal. Even eggs and toast.

As I pour the eggs mixed with milk from the bowl into the greased pan, I take in the aroma of a
new morning. It seems cliché, but mornings are always the quietest time of the day for me.
Especially when I'm at Hogwarts. No one is insane enough to wake up at the same hour I do, so
it's the only time of day that's somewhat peaceful. And living in Gryffindor tower,
that's saying something. You see, last year Gryffindor tower became *the* party zone of
the school. Ever since Potter defeated Voldermort (No, I had no fear of saying his name), the
entire fourth through seventh year class found it fit to throw a party every free moment they had.
I had only gone to a few of the parties, for the free food of course, and each time the room looked
more like a war zone than a common room. It was safe to say I never stayed for more than five
minutes. I had a sweet tooth for butterbeer, sue me.

I grabbed the toast out of the toaster as it popped out and poured my eggs onto the plate next
to it. Grabbing the pepper and Nutella from the cupboard, I sat at the island in the middle of the
kitchen and turned on the mini-television across the kitchen. It was already preset to turn on the
news so I heard the annoyingly peppy blonde newscast start to talk about raising prices in
women's lingerie. Lovely.

I was in the middle of shoving the last bit of eggs in my mouth when the male newscast came on.
I never really cared for much he said, seeing as how he spent more time smiling in what was
supposed to be a cheering manor at the camera than reporting the news. They probably just hired him
to boost the ratings. Shallow morons. But something about his report today caught my attention.

“*And in other news… A significant decrease in crime rates have been occurring* *these
past few weeks. The mysterious group behind the attacks has still not been caught. Among their
crimes were kidnappings, building destruction, and somehow causing a misty green marker to appear
over the buildings they had conquered. Have they realized the error of their ways and given up
their reign? Or is this just a bump in the road? Only time will allow this case to be put to
rest.*”

“*Well let's hope that this is the end of their sick games, right Mark?*” The female
newscast said in a faux-concerned tone.

“*Right* *Kate**.*” And there it was, his award-winning smile. It was enough to
make my stomach curl.

I clicked the off button and watched as their faces dissolved into blackness. Even the Muggle
world was beginning to take notice of Voldermort's demise. It should be considered a good
thing, but Mark Goldbloom's Cheshire grin said otherwise.

I put my plate in the dishwasher and headed out the door. I grabbed my car keys from their hook
in the garage and stepped into the car my parents bought me when I turned seventeen. I got my
license the first time I took the test, thankfully, so I could drive myself to work in the morning
without having to bother my parents for a ride. Seeing as how my birthday was in September, I'd
already been on the road since Christmas last year. London was only a ten minute drive from my
house, so I knew I'd be a good half hour early for work.

I pulled out of the driveway and headed out of the neighborhood at the posted speed limit. I
turned on the radio about halfway there and listened to my favorite radio station. Contrary to what
most people might think of me, I actually enjoy music. Smooth, easy-flowing guitars and natural
vibratos always stuck my fancy when I was in the mood for music.

The heart of London wasn't very densely populated in the wee hours of the morning. It made
it much easier to find a parallel parking space on Charing Cross Road outside of *The Leaky
Cauldron**.* The pub was almost always open, seeing as how it had guest rooms on the second
floor. It served one mean breakfast and sometimes when I didn't feel like cooking, I had
Tom's special flapjacks and sausage. I walked into the dark and shabby building and saw Tom
removing the chairs from the top of the tables. He heard me come in and offered a tired smile.

“Good morning, Hermione.”

“`Morning, Tom. Did you have a good night's rest?”

“I think you already know the answer to that, lass.”

I nodded. While stopping in for breakfast some days, Tom and I had ourselves a good amount of
conversations. I learned three things. One, Tom was actually a nice guy to talk to; two, I was his
favorite customer (at least that's what he *wants* me to think); three, he had a sleeping
disorder called Primary insomnia, which meant he had difficulty falling asleep, if he slept at all.
Poor guy.

“Have a craving for anything this morning?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

I shook my head shortly, “Sorry, Tom. I already had a very filling breakfast at home.”

“Aww come on, Hermione. Not even a cuppa?”

I bit my lip slightly. “I don't thi—” I let out a mighty yawn and giggled. “Alright, you
win. Brew me up some coffee.”

“Already ahead of you.” He said with a wink.

I took a seat at the bar and watched him pull out a pitcher of steaming coffee. I sniffed in the
fresh-brewed aroma and sighed. I knew I had been forgetting something this morning. He pulled out a
mug and poured the dark substance into it. He got out a bowl of sugar cubes and creamer and allowed
me to add my own, even though he knew full well how I took it. Three sugars and what seemed to be a
pint of creamer. It was safe to say I hated black coffee. I don't even think what I took a sip
of could even be considered coffee. More like cream and sugar with an eye drop of coffee.

“I haven't seen you around in a while. How's school been?” He asked, leaning on his
elbows over the counter.

I shrugged. “Uneventful, I guess. N.E.W.Ts are this year and I'm eagerly awaiting my
Hogwarts letter to see if I made Head Girl.”

“Oh, lass, of course you made it. No need to be modest.” He said suggestively.

I blushed. “I don't know, Tom… there are some other really good girls who can easily be
considered competition and—” He raised an eyebrow, “Oh who am I kidding? I totally got it!”

I really hate being modest sometimes.

I looked over at the clock posted on the wall and took another sip of coffee. “I really need to
be off, Tom.”

He nodded. “I understand. Don't wanna be late on your first day back to work.”

“Exactly. I'll see you when I get off. Save me a ham and cheese sandwich?”

“Always.”

I took one last sip of my coffee and slid off the bar stool. With one last wave, I exited out
the back to the pass way that lead to Diagon Alley. I tapped the bricks, three up and two across,
and watched as the arch to the alleyway appeared. There were a few stragglers walking up and down
the cobblestone road, opening their shops or just going for a morning walk. I started walking the
short distance to the small shop and slowed as I came to “Quality Quidditch Supplies”, the shop
next door which always seemed to gather more attention than ours for some reason. I didn't have
a problem with Quidditch usually, but fifty galleons for a pair of dragon hide gloves was a bit
much, wasn't it?

Mrs. Oliver hadn't arrived yet so I dug in my pocket for my keys and unlocked the door. Ever
since she realized that I actually enjoyed getting up in the wee hours of the morning, she made me
a copy of the store key so I didn't have to wait until she came. She also had a habit of
running late some days and needed someone to man the store when it was opening time. And that was
only my first week.

The bell jingled to signal my arrival and the light flickered on. I made my way to the counter
and checked to make sure everything was in order. Much to my surprise, everything was well and
organized. Did I mention that for owning a stationary store, Mrs. Oliver had horrible
organizational skills? But apparently not today.

It was seven-forty, which meant I had a good twenty minutes before opening time. Since I left my
remaining coursework at home, I didn't have much to do. I could start cleaning the shelves or
take inventory to get a head start. But it looked like for once, Mrs. Oliver went all out to make
my first day easy. So until she got here, I had absolutely nothing to do. I should be ecstatic like
any working teenager. But I wasn't normal, as you should gather by now. I like working.

*Click, click, click*

My head turned towards the display window, expecting some early-rising youngsters to be throwing
pebbles at the window again (don't ask…). But what I saw was much less aggravating. The
mysterious snow white owl I knew now to be a girl named Hedwig was furiously tapping at the glass
as though her life depended on it. I grinned and opened the door to let her in. Looks like Joe
Bloggs was more of an early riser than I thought.

Hedwig found a post on one of the shelves behind the front counter and extended her leg with the
letter attached. I eagerly grabbed it and searched around for something to write with. It
wasn't hard seeing as this was a stationary store. I grabbed some spare parchment and a quill
to ready my reply and opened the letter.

We had been sending letters for a little over a week now and I knew the following things about
him: his owl's name was Hedwig, he *was* male, his favorite class was Defense Against the
Dark Arts, he hates the summer because Hogwarts was like his home, and his favorite color was
blue.

*Dear Anonymous,*

*I never usually get up this early but I had a little bit of trouble falling back asleep after
a day filled with Quidditch and more Quidditch. I don't think my muscles will ever be the
same.* *It's a good thing it's summer or else I'd be screwed. Even this
half-finished coursework I have staring at me* *is getting to be too much. It's a good
thing I'm getting out today. It's like it's begging me to finish it, even though I have
no intent to until a week before term. I could really use the change of environment. Not that I
don't like where I'm at now—but a guy can only stand the same place for so long before
wanting to get out for a few hours.* *I have some shopping to get done anyway. Great. Now I
sound like a housewife. Is it September yet?*

*Sincerely,
Joe Bloggs*

It was a shorter letter, but it looked like he was in a rush. I hated cabin fever as much as the
next person so I really hoped that getting out would do him some good. The least I can do is wish
him luck on his day out. It looked like he needed it before he lost his mind.

I grabbed the quill I set out and slid the parchment towards me. Pulling up the chair we had
hidden under the desk for when the shop had a slow day, I plopped down and began writing a quick
note.

*Dear Joe Bloggs,*

*Sorry about your cabin fever. I think a day out will do you some good. Not to mention a nice
walk will loosen up those tight muscles from playing Quidditch. If you had fun, they were well
worth it, right?* *Sorry about—*

“Hermione!”

“AH!”

I lost my balance and had to hold onto the counter to keep from falling. I looked up and saw
Mrs. Oliver looking at me with a raised brow. “Mrs. Oliver! I—I didn't hear you come in.”

“Obviously. I called your name five times. Are you working on homework *this* early in the
day? Honestly, Hermione, you need to slow down.”

I laughed hollowly. “It's actually not homework.”

“Really?” She asked, looking for lack of a better work, surprised. I can't really blame her,
though. I would have been shocked, too. Me, working on something other than homework? It's
unheard of.

“Yeah.”

She leaned over and began reading my letter upside down. I tried covering it up, but it was too
late. “Joe Bloggs? You're writing someone you don't know?”

“No! I mean, yes. But it's not what you think. He's my pen-pal.”

“*You* have a pen-pal?”

I scowled. “Yes, I have a pen-pal. It was an experiment to see if I could actually get along
with people of my own age.”

“*Was* an experiment?” She asked suggestively.

“I meant *is*.” I defended. “You just caught me off guard with your accusations.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned forward to study my face, something she did quite often with
conversations like these. And by “like these”, I mean when she's accusing me of something and
I'm trying to defend myself. She never found anything, though. Not that she doesn't have a
gift for reading people. She does. She's quite skilled at Legilimency—something she chose to
learn to sell more supplies. People didn't come to this store often until the time for
back-to-school shopping came around. I used to frown upon her manipulation of the skill, but her
excuse was pretty legit. Bills.

She didn't have to use it on me, though. She could read me with a single look. I think this
was the only time I resented that.

She pulled back with a small smirk. “How long have you two been writing each other?”

I shrugged, “Around a week.”

She tilted her head, “And how many letters do you write per day, would you say?”

I bit my lip, “I dunno… around… ten?”

“Ten?” She said, nodding a bit. I knew she was mocking me.

“Shut up, Sue.” I said, going back to my letter.

“Do you like him?” She asked evenly.

I smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. He's nice and funny and he *gets* me, you
know?”

“And he's actually your age.” She teased.

I snorted; something I only did when I was around her. “That's definitely a bonus.” I
paused, looking at her pointedly, “You don't think it's stupid, do you? That the only
friend I have my age has no I idea who I am?”

She shook her head. “No, honey, I don't. You don't know who he is and you still like
him, don't you? I reckon he feels the same about you or else he wouldn't keep on writing
you. And maybe, in time, you'll meet him.”

“Maybe.” I looked out and window dreamily and saw more people walking by it than the last time I
checked. My neck snapped to the clock and I inhaled deeply. “Oh Sue, I'm sorry. I'll get us
opened up in a second, I promise. Let me just—” I was about to wave my wand to flip the sign on the
door to open, but she put her hand up and stopped me.

“Don't worry about it, Hermione. I'll open up and you finish up that letter. Just put
your apron on when you're done. You're on cash register duty today.”

I groaned. That was my least favorite of the chores she made me do. “But why can't you do
it?”

“Because I have some stuff I have to take care of in the back.”

“Delivery day?”

“You betcha.” She said sourly. “Do you mind manning the store for a few hours while I argue with
the delivery guy?”

“Yeah no problem.”

She smiled sweetly, “Thank you.”

“It's my job.” I said smartly.

She didn't respond and headed towards the back, waving her wand so the sign switched to
open. I knew we wouldn't get many customers, so it wasn't a real hassle to man the store
all by myself. But it would be quite boring without Sue to talk to.

I turned back to my letter and picked up where I left off.

*—S**orry about your talking homework as well. The fresh air should clear that up as
well. Just try your best to relax and it'll all be fine. Tell me how your day went after you
get back, alright?*

*Sincerely,
Anonymous*

I quickly wrapped up the letter and looked around for Hedwig. I saw her perched on the high
ceiling, most likely looking for mice. “Hedwig!” I called.

She craned her neck towards me and quickly came floating down. I petted her feathers gently and
tied the letter to her claw. She looked at me with a pleading look and I sighed. “I'm sorry,
girl, I didn't bring any treats with me. I'll get some on my break later, alright?”

She hooted and took off. I watched as she glided out the open window out back and turned back to
the register. Looking out at the crowd outside, I sighed. Hopefully we wouldn't get any
customers today. I know that's a horrible thing to say, but I really hated being behind the
counter where my vocabulary was restricted to “Will that be all?” and “Two galleons is your change,
have a nice day.” I sounded like a broken Barbie doll. And oh how I hated Barbies.

I reached in the cupboard beneath the register and pulled out my apron. Well, it wasn't
really an apron. More like a few pockets that you tie around your waist. But it was the only think
I was required to wear so I didn't complain. At least I didn't have to wear a pink
petticoat with a matching corset.

I knew it would be boring but luckily I didn't have to wait too long to be somewhat
entertained. If you wanted to call it that.

It was only an hour before the bell rang and alerted me that there was a customer. I was
in-between two shelves of quills sorted by color and quality. I had two stacks of quills in each
hand that needed to be put at opposite ends of each shelf and had no time to go assist the customer
right away. The quills happened to be the only thing that Sue brought in to be shelved since the
delivery guys messed up the parchment shipment and had to go to the factory to fetch the right
order. Sue, being the pushy woman she is, insisted she go with them. So I was absolutely alone in
the store and had no idea when she'd be back. It's a good thing no crowds ever came to this
store until August.

“I'll be right with you! Just give me a second to… get these quills… stocked.” I called to
whoever entered.

“It's alright, take your time.”

The voice was a deep baritone. I didn't really want to think too much on it so I could focus
on keeping my balance with these quills. For feathers, they were quite heavy in bulk. I got the
first two stacks put away without incident, but somehow one of the quills came loose and I
didn't realize it until after my foot came into contact with it. It was made from an iron base,
so when my foot collided with it, the quill rolled and caused me to fall straight onto my back, the
remaining stacks going up in the air and falling all over the floor.

I didn't realize I had made that much of a disturbance until I heard heavy footfalls coming
towards me and the voice of the customer shouting, “Are you alright?! Do you need
some—Granger?”

I looked up and groaned. This is *not* what I needed right now.

-->



4. The Past Is The Past Until Someone Brings It Up
--------------------------------------------------



**A/N: Oy vey, I've done it again. 10:00 on a school night with a short-ish chapter to
prove for it. I'm sorry! Exams and such are this week. Not to mention I'm still sleep
deprived from the** **New Moon** **Premiere. Which, I may add, was** **AWESOME****!
JACOB BLACK=MAHBETCHLUVRRRR. Take that, Eddiepuss =P Haha. Now back to the story. I'm pretty
sure I'll milk the whole summer setting for one more chapter and then switch to Hoggywarts.
WOO! I'm pretty excited to switch the setting. There are so much more things to do there. But,
for now, enjoy the outcome of my loverly cliffhanger from last chapter.**

**Disclaimer: HJP=JKR, HJP squared=totally ours xD**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**The Past Is The Past Until Someone Brings It Up**

“Granger why are you on the floor?”

I lifted my head up an inch to look into his green eyes. “Did you not hear the crash? I fell,
you moron.”

He rolled his eyes, “And I here I was thinking about helping you up.”

I scoffed. “Yeah well I don't *need* your help.” I gingerly pushed lifted myself from
the floor and brushed off some of the dust that accumulated on my jeans. I looked down at the floor
and held back a groan. The quills were all amiss around the floor, the yellows mixed with the
purples, the self-inking with the old-fashioned, et cetera. This would take ages to re-sort. I
backed up a few inches to get a good look at where I should start cleaning up this mess, when my
bottom touched something firm yet soft that made me squeak softly in surprise. I turned back around
and saw Potter looking at me with an eyebrow cocked.

“What are you still doing here?” I asked, backing away a few inches.

He looked around aimlessly, “This is *The Write Expression*, isn't it?”

“Could you not read the sign outside? It's called reading phonics.”

He glared at me. “That's no way to talk to a customer, is it Fuzzball?”

“A cu—a *customer*?” I said in disbelief.

He nodded.

“You want to buy something from here?”

He nodded again. “That's usually what one does when they enter a shop. They buy things.”

I leaned down and started picking up the yellow quills, putting more distance between me and
wonder boy. “Ever heard of window shopping? You just look at the display and leave. Sometimes you
don't even have to come in and harass the employees.”

“The employ—you work here?” He asked in a high voice.

“Very well spotted. Did you think I was picking up these quills for my own health? After all, I
did say I would be with you in a minute.” The yellow quills were now all in the correct order on
the shelves and I moved on to the green ones.

“Well I… that's beside the point. This is the only stationary shop in Diagon Alley and I am
in need of some parchment. Unfortunately, it seems as though you're the only occupant of this
shop at the moment—” I turned around and glared at him before putting another quill in its correct
holding vase. “So I'll just have to bear your presence for however long it takes to get what I
need.”

“Well I'm afraid what you need is not in stock at the moment.” I said shortly. “We had a bit
of an erm… shipping error. My boss is out fixing it as we speak. But I don't think that
she'll be back anytime soon, so you're out of luck.”

There was a slight pause. “No problem, I'll just wait here.”

I spun around to face him, sharp quill in hand. “You most certainly will not!”

“Easy there, tiger.” He said calmly, looking cross-eyed at the quill I hadn't realized I had
pointed in his face. He stuck his pointer finger out and touched the tip of the quill lightly,
causing my hand to move south and away from him. “I don't like it either. But I am in need of
parchment and have plenty of time to burn.”

“I can kick you out, you know.” I said smartly. “Close the shop, lock the doors, anything to
keep you and your ego *out*.”

He snorted. “What ever happened to `the customer is always right'?”

“It died along with chivalry.”

“Oh really?” He asked smoothly. “Then what does that plaque in the corner say.”

I turned to where he pointed his finger and gritted my teeth. There, in goldenrod letters, was
the motto every store in Diagon Alley lives by. Damnit. “Fine,” I said before twisting back. “You
win. Stay, but be sure to not get in my way. I don't get paid to babysit.”

“Very funny,” He said dryly as I finished cleaning up another color of quills.

“I thought so.”

I heard his feet move away from me to presumably browse the rest of the shop and silently
finished my workload. It became a much easier task without his annoying voice distracting me. But
even so, having his mere presence in the same room made me all too aware of my surroundings, so I
couldn't associate the silence as particularly peaceful. I heard his every footfall, saw his
head peak around the many nooks of the nearby shelves, and if I listened carefully, I could even
hear his breathing. But I wasn't. Not at all.

Besides, being this close to him—and this *alone*—brought back too many repressed memories
to even consider thinking about anything but work. Work is good. Easy. I wasn't getting paid to
dawdle.

I finished re-stocking the quills faster than I anticipated and looked around for something else
to busy myself with. If I appeared to be working, maybe Potter would take a hint and come back
later. Maybe even in a time slot where I wasn't working. If only I could be so fortunate. I
quickly remembered the dust I had found on my pants from my fall and looked around for a broom. I
knew that Sue always kept one behind the counter, which required moving from the sanctuary of high
shelves. And here I was thinking my first day back would be boring.

I looked around the corner to check if Potter had set any booby traps. Paranoid you say? Well
you don't know how immature this “savior of the Wizarding world” was. Especially around those
he chose to deem inferior to him. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I tip-toed towards the
counter, making sure to step on the floorboards that didn't squeak. I leaned forward so the
majority of my weight was on the balls of my feet. I felt like an elf about to steal a baby from
its crib. Well, either that or a 007 agent. To be truthful, I'd pick the second. Much more
exciting.

I reached the counter without incident and grabbed the broom from its place on the floor. I let
my body relax as I straightened out, glad that I had made it scratch-free so to speak.

“Training to be a spy?”

Moment ruined.

“I thought you left.”

“Liar.”

“So?”

I brushed past him and began sweeping up the stray dust on the floor. The broom was charmed so
that its dustpan trailed by me like a magnet. The sound of plastic against hard wood followed me as
I made tiny circles around the floor. These were the moments I felt like Cinderella. How keen. Now
all I needed was a dashing prince to sweep me off my feet. This is why I hated most princess
stories. They were far too unrealistic. Prince Charming doesn't exist in the real world. The
only thing the tall tales got right were magic and how dim-witted most girls were when it came to
the opposite sex. *O**h I simply* must *meet the prince—*pathetic.

“I'm bored.”

I rolled my eyes, but didn't turn to face him. “Then leave. No one's making you stay. Go
next door to your precious Quidditch store.”

“But I *need* parchment.”

“And I *need* a pepper-up potion” I mumbled. “Come back when school starts like everyone
else.”

“But I can't be—look, Granger. I need the parchment. It's the only reason I came
here.”

“And here I was thinking you enjoyed my company.”

“Oh yes.” He drawled. “You're exactly my cup of tea.”

I turned around to see him leaning against the front counter in what he must have thought was a
sultry manor. In my opinion, it made him look like he was trying to prevent himself from falling on
his face, which I so desperately wanted to make happen. I placed a hand over my heart. “I'm
touched.”

He smirked, “You should be. I think I should count this as my charity of the day—helping the
hag.”

“Oh very clever wonderboy.” I said slyly as I continued to sweep the floor. “Now why don't
you run along and help some elderly woman cross the street.”

“You really want to get rid of me, don't you?”

“YES!” I yelled in exasperation. “For the love of Merlin, *please leave*.”

“Well if you insist.” He made his way to the door and my chest began to unclench.
*Finally!* He stopped listening to his own voice and was actually being courteous. Somebody
pinch me. His hand seemed to slow as it gripped the handle to push the door open. “You know…” He
said slowly. “This would make your life a lot easier, right?”

“Immensely.” I replied quickly.

I could hear the smile in his voice. “Well then there is only one solution.”

“Potter, I'm warning you.”

“I think I'll stay.”

“Urg!” I moved forward, causing him to back up against the door. It was more of a reflex than
anything, so don't start getting any ideas about anger management problems or, Merlin forbid,
*kinks*.

“Well, well, well, look who's turning out to be quite the little minx. Who knew you had it
in you, Granger?”

I poked him hard in the chest, “Now you listen to me, Potter. For six years I have put up with
your crap. I'm done. Just *leave*.”

His jaw set. “Just because you don't have any friends to give you Midol, doesn't mean
you have to direct your mood swings at me.”

I narrowed my eyes at him as we stood there. To fill you in, this is how most of our arguments
went. We'd banter, we'd scream, we'd insult, and then we'd stare. It was like a
high school production of a Tony-winning musical—it started out fine, but ended in disaster. Take
now for instance. I'd skipped my usual physical abuse and went straight for the staring
contest. I guess it's just an off day. Summer can do that to a person, I guess.

We both heard the sound of someone clearing their throat and froze mid-glare. Simultaneously,
the two of us angled to look over at the noise and saw Sue standing there with a raised brow and
crossed arms. “Sorry to interrupt this…”

“Nothing!” we both said in unison. Maybe it was his breath on my neck that gave it away, but
right after we both spoke up, we jumped apart. I didn't even realize how close we were. I guess
hatred-filled rage can do that to a person.

I found my voice and tried to explain. “Nothing's going on, Sue. We were just… erm…”

“I was just asking if you had any parchment.”

I looked back at Potter in surprise, but he kept his eyes glued on Sue.

“Oh!” She said brightly. She turned around for a split second and pulled out a box from behind
her. “We just got some new packs in. I would've been here sooner but we had a little mishap
with the delivery guys.”

She and Harry moved towards the front counter to sort through the new order of parchment and I
was left standing by the door. That was weird. Potter, defending me… kind of. Oh, who am I kidding?
The bloke just wants his parchment. He's only doing what he needs to get what he wants, as
always. I'd better escape while I could.

I grabbed the broom from the floor and went to the rear of the shop, heading back to work. I
tuned everything out, something I apparently lost the ability to do for the past ten or so minutes,
and went back to work.

It didn't take long for Potter to leave after he got what he came in for. Maybe five minutes
tops. I knew the instant the cash register rang that I could finally be at ease. I slumped against
the broom and let out a large amount of air. Knowing full well that I was going to be interrogated
in ten seconds, I needed to soak up this feeling for all it was worth.

“HERMIONE!”

Time's up.

“Coming, Sue.”

I dragged the broom behind me as I made my way to the front of the store. Sue was setting the
box back down on the floor and I had to resist the urge to sprint out the door. I didn't mind
talking to Sue about my life—far from it!—but Potter was the only acceptation. Last time I talked
about him to her, I had made her promise never to bring up the subject again. Or else. Well, now it
seemed like that threat had worn out. Sue wasn't stupid. She knew what Harry Potter looked like
and how much I detested him.

She turned back around to face me and I bit my lip. Here we go.

“Just what was Harry Potter doing in my shop?”

“Erm… buying parchment?” I said, fiddling with my fingers.

She sighed. “Let me rephrase that. What were you doing *with* Harry Potter in my shop?”

“Nothing!” I defended.

“It didn't look like nothing to me. I thought you hated him?”

“I do!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Then what were you doing pinning him up against the front door?”

“Making a point. What did you think I was doing?”

She coughed and shot a suggestive look my way.

“WHAT?! NO!” I exploded. “Me *snogging* Potter?! That's—that's disgusting!
Horrible! Ohhh I think I'm going to puke.” Put a hand over my stomach to make my point.

She put her hands up, “Fine, fine, I surrender.”

“Thank you.”

I went back behind the counter to put the broom away. Her voice sounded while I was emptying the
dustpan in the wastebasket. “Well he is kind of cute you know…”

I dropped the pan and turned to look at her with a face shaded red. “*SUE!*”

“Sorry, sorry!” She said when she got a good look at my face. Or heard my tone. Well, whichever
one it was, it made her apologize and that was all that mattered.

“I've told you before not to patronize me when it comes to him. He's the reason I'm
like this!”

“Like what, Hermione?”

“Like… like a hag.”

“A hag?”

I nodded slowly.

“Hermione, you're not a hag. You're a bright young witch with an expansive future just
waiting for you to—”

“Yeah I know.” I interrupted her. “But I could be all that and *more* if it wasn't for
him.” *The troll lowered its giant* *club down to the sink next to mind, causing a pipe to
spit and spray water all over my face. The two small boys lunged for the beast and it's overly
large feet moved out of my vision. I crawled to another place of shelter and dug around for my
wand. Nothing. I had left it in the common room. My life was now in the hands of two
eleven-year-old males who hated my guts. Merlin help me.*

“It doesn't do well to dwell in the past, dear.”

Sue's voice and comforting hand on my shoulder shook me out of my escaped flashback and I
smiled gratefully at her. It had been a while since that scene had escaped the confines of my mind.
Maybe seeing Potter outside of school wasn't good for my health. That'd be wonderful! An
excuse not to see him other than my own piteous reasons.

“Let's just drop it, okay? I don't want to relive any more of my past.”

She nodded and removed her arm. “Alright. Now since we're past that—*someone* needs
help me put away this new shipment of parchment.”

I grinned. “It would be my pleasure.”

~*~

The drive home was very serene compared to the rest of the day. Other than the Potter-interlude,
we had a total of three customers. Yup, three. One might wonder why the shop hasn't been
foreclosed yet. Well, as I said before, we get most of our business during the back-to-school
season. Since we're the only store in town that sells parchment and such, we get more than
enough profit during that time of the year to last us the seasons. We also receive a fair crowd
during the winter holidays as well. Not that I'm around for that part of the year,
unfortunately. I'm studying away at school like a good girl.

My house was empty when I got home. Again.

I went upstairs and changed before heading down and making dinner. When I'm home, I like to
be comfy. And to me comfy equals sweats. I even wear them during the hottest days of the summer.
That's probably due to the fact that my dad likes to keep the house at a freezing temperature
throughout the four seasons. He yells at me whenever I try to change it, so I've coped by
buying around ten different pairs of sweatpants, shirts, and fuzzy socks. Ahh, home.

I opened the freezer and dug out a pack of cheese and potato filled pirogues. I placed them on
the counter and proceeded to heat up the skillet on the stove. As I was reaching for the garlic
salt, I heard a tapping noise beside me. I turned towards the window where the noise was coming
from and saw Hedwig hovering just outside. I grinned and opened the latch to let her in, being
careful not to steer her too close to the heated skillet. She dropped a rolled up piece of
parchment onto one of the counters and perched atop the island.

Before even thinking about opening the letter (which is a harder thing that you may thing, I
assure you), I went over to the fridge and grabbed a raw mini carrot for Hedwig to nibble on. I
hadn't had time to pick up treats for her when I left work, so I promised myself I would pick
them up tomorrow. I fed the vegetable to her and she gobbled it up slowly.

I went back to the skillet and placed a few pirogues on top to cook. They remained unchanged as
I went back over to the counter and picked up the letter. He doesn't waste any time telling me
about his day, does he? It was kind of sweet in a way.

*Dear Anonymous,*

*You wanted to hear about my day so here it goes. Dismal. I thought some fresh air would do me
some good and it did for a while until I ran into one of my not-so-friendly comrades from school.
It wasn't too terrible compared to our other head to head shouting matches. I swear that
something is seriously wrong in their head. They keep going on about how they—you know what, never
mind. I don't want to burden you with my social problems. Besides, it's not that important
anyway. It was nice to feel some fresh air for once, so I shouldn't really be complaining.*
*I really hope this summer passes by quick. Have I mentioned that yet?*

*Sincerely,
Joe Bloggs*

The pirogues began to simmer and I quickly moved over to turn them over with a spatula. The
bottoms were all a crisp golden brown and I sighed, thankful I didn't burn them. I reached over
and grabbed the garlic salt, sprinkling it on top as the other side cooked.

In the time it took for my dinner to finish cooking, I ran upstairs and grabbed the utensils I
needed to write a reply. Who cares if it was dinnertime? It wasn't rude unless people were
there with you. So as I gingerly ate my hot meal, I scribbled down a reply to his day. Which, in my
opinion, didn't seem like a proper way to enjoy a different environment.

*Dear Joe Bloggs,*

*Your day doesn't sound like a good getaway if you ask me. You need to find a quiet place
that you know you won't be disturbed in and just relax. Don't worry about people you
don't get along with or school. Just lie down or take a swim—anything to ease your mind. When I
find my brain becoming too cluttered, I take a walk**. It doesn't even matter where I am,
I just walk around and somehow find my way back to where I was refreshed and much more at ease. And
don't worry about burdening me. The worst thing a person can do to themselves is keep their
emotions hidden inside. You wouldn't want to become an emotionless void, now would you? Take it
from someone who knows.*

*Feel better,
Anonymous*

It sounded more like a reply to a *Dear Shirley* column than a letter. But for the week
I've been talking to him, he seems to be a much more accepting person than I believed anyone
capable of. If he's who I think he is, he'll at least try what I'm suggesting if only
for a test run. I know that any advice he is willing to give me will help, so why not the same vice
versa? We get each other.

Merlin's beard. I think I've just developed an emotional dependency on a member of the
opposite sex. And you know the worst part? It doesn't feel weird. Not yet, anyway. There's
always the possibility this could turn out to be the worst decision I have ever made. Score one for
me.

-->



5. Paranoid or Realistic?
-------------------------



**A/N: Thanksgiving break=more time to write. But, unfortunately, next weekend for me is so
ridiculously jam-packed that I don't know if I'll get a chapter up in time. I'll try my
best to write a lot this upcoming week, AKA the start of my second trimester with math making a
guest appearance on my schedule—whoopee. Hopefully I'll update by Friday morning or Sunday
night. There is no in-between, I'm afraid. Oh, and for the Hogwarts letter I put in here, I
wasn't sure exactly what time they were sent out. So if I did it too late in the year,
we'll just day that Dumbledore “knew” she had most of her supplies already, hehe.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine, it's JKR's. Unlike her stories, mine
actually has a believable romance element. I hope.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**P****ar****anoid or R****ealistic?**

“You know that smile is getting to be sickening.”

I turned around and stuck my tongue out at my smirking boss. She brushed it off and went to the
nearby cupboard to take out our treat bowl for Hedwig. Yeah, you heard me right. Joe Bloggs and I
had Hedwig traveling so much these past few months that Sue found it absolutely necessary to
purchase a porcelain jar with the custom embroidery *Hedwig's Grub* filled to the brim
with owl treats. She has a wonderful sense of humor, that woman. All I have been hearing this
summer is how my happiness is making her wish she had picked a different husband. She was kidding,
of course. I picked up on these things when I spend the majority of my summer with her. Not that I
minded much; she and Joe were all I needed, really.

I really wish this summer won't end, but with school honing in, it was inevitable. It
wasn't like me to not look forward to school—it was the exact opposite. But this summer had
been the best time of my life. No, I hadn't traveled to Ireland to see the extensive green
plains, or discovered the cure to the Wizard's Flu; I had met (for lack of a better word) the
most incredible person I had ever been in contact with. He was smart, funny, charming, and an all
around *good* person. You didn't find too many of those nowadays. Instead of chemistry
being based off of compatibility, it was now associated with a “hot” body and how good they were in
the sack. Pathetic, really. Dumbledore and the other professor's had the right idea when they
thought of this pen-pal system. You could sort out the shallow from the deep. I like to think of
myself as a deep person when it comes to literature and… well that's basically it. But Joe, he
thinks that I'm so much more than that. He sees me without actually seeing me, if that makes
any sense? Well, it does to me and comes as a welcome relief from the other people I have to deal
with at school and, on a rare occasion, out of school. I think you can sort out what fits into that
second category without me telling you.

The point is that I have a friend. A friend, who is my age, goes to my school, and likes me for
me. We talk about books, school, home life (excluding the specifics to keep up the anonymous
aspect, obviously), friends or lack thereof, music—well just about anything, really. The only
problem is that I don't have a clue as to who he is. I know that it's the one factor that
is keeping this thing going but there is a part of me that wants to see him just once. He could
turn out to be an asshole, which I highly doubt, or a Slytherin, but at least I would be able to
put a face to the words I have been reading from him. But I make it a point not to think on it too
much because I know that I will figure out who it is if I put my head into it. Even though the urge
to know who he is is killing me, I have to be strong in order keep this fantasy a reality. I
don't want to ruin what we have. At school it will be even harder to resist the natural
curiosity that has now peaked. That's probably another reason I don't want to go back. My
whole schedule will be booked with studying and coursework to the point where Joe won't become
top priority anymore. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing, honestly. If I were to
somehow get a hold of my old timeturner and travel back few months to tell myself that I would be
thinking about a guy more than homework, I would slap myself silly and give myself a urine test to
check for any drugs. But now, I don't know.

It was exactly a week before term started and both Joe and I knew that our letters were going to
become less frequent. Maybe two a day, if that. Right now we had 915 letters exchanged and that
would most likely decrease significantly the nine months we were within Hogwarts walls. What? Of
course I've been keeping count! Like I said, these letters were my top priority during this
summer. Besides, when you file them away like I do, you need to make sure each and every one is
accounted for. Just in case. I know my parents would never snoop in my room, but there was always
the slim chance. I didn't have anything to hide within them, obviously. It wasn't as if we
were exchanging kinks or something like that. Disgusting. Like I said before, we talked about
normal stuff. I like normal, and I'm sure he does too since he hasn't brought up topics
along those lines as of now. You would think that any warm-blooded male would do so, but not Joe
Bloggs. Nope. Joe was a gentleman and stuck to other topics. It's not like I wouldn't mind
talking to someone about those things—and the fact that he is male and has no idea who I am and
vice versa definitely helps—but it's not something that is ever present in my life. When the
time comes we might.

I sighed and folded up the latest letter I had finished writing. Hedwig was waiting patiently on
one of the top shelves, munching on the treat that Sue had fetched her. When Sue first met Hedwig,
she was a little apprehensive to have an owl in her shop. But after proving herself, Hedwig earned
a place and a jar filled with owl treats. It wasn't very hard to find Sue's soft spot,
after all. That woman would let a dragon live in the basement if it rubbed her the right way.

“Here you go, girl.” I said, lifting the letter to her leg and tying it gingerly to her leg.
“Have a nice flight.”

She hooted and nipped my finger before taking off through the back. Sue waved meekly at the
graceful bird and turned back to me. “So are you excited for your seventh year?”

I shrugged. “I dunno, I guess.”

She gave me one of her *looks* and I rolled my eyes. “*Hermione Granger* not excited
for school? *What* has the world come to?”

“Oh shut up.” I said quietly. “It's not that I'm not excited. But things are going to be
different this year and I don't know if I'm going to like it. This summer has been amazing
and I just don't want it to end.”

“Would Joe Bloggs have anything to do with this?” She asked suggestively.

“Of course.” I said bluntly. There was no use in denying it. “What if school starts and we lose
touch? What if he finds out who I am and doesn't want to speak to me anymore? What if—”

“What if, what if, what if,” She mocked. “Hermione, it's going to be fine. So what if he
finds out who you are? It's his loss if he doesn't want to talk to you anymore.” I glared
at her. “Not—not that he won't *love* you. I mean, you're amazing and probably the
most tolerable teenager I've come into contact with in a long time.”

“Oh gee, thanks.” I said in a drawl. “I'm tolerable. That's fantastic, Sue, really.”

“Oh you know what I mean.” She said, waving a hand around dismissively. Walking the short
distance between us, she placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke in a gentle tone, “Hermione you are
an amazing girl. You and Joe both know that the time will eventually come when you'll have to
reveal yourselves. From what you've told me, he's a pretty amazing guy who I know will
accept you exactly the way you are. You don't have to worry about that. Live in the now and
when the time comes, just be yourself.”

I sniffed, “Gods, Sue. You didn't have to get all sensitive on me.”

She smiled warmly at me and gave me a quick hug. “It'll be fine, you'll see. And
remember, if you need anything, just owl me and I'll be right there with you. Figuratively
speaking, of course.”

“Of course.”

The sound of claws scraping against wood broke the short silence.

“Christ that boy is fast!” Sue said loudly.

I laughed and turned to let in what I thought to be Hedwig. But when I opened the door, a small
brown barn owl entered the shop. It flew to perch on the front desk and stuck its leg out swiftly.
Yeah, this is definitely not Hedwig.

“Should I get Hedwig another treat?” Sue called from where she disappeared in the back.

“It's not Hedwig.” I answered back. “It's my Hogwarts letter.”

“Well does your Hogwarts letter bird want a treat?”

I looked at the petit owl and nodded to myself. “Yeah, sure.”

I heard Sue move a few things as she made her way back up front. Looking back at the owl, I took
the envelope and moved my fingers around its perimeter out of reflex. I felt a small bump and
grinned, tearing open the letter and flipping it upside down to reveal a shiny pin. It was in the
shape of a single crest, each house taking up one squared-off corner. *Head Girl* was
embroidered in shiny silver lettering along the bottom on top of a gold ribbon-like frame. It was
absolutely beautiful. I had only gotten a glimpse of Percy Weasley's during my second year.
Holding it in my hand felt almost surreal. I had been working for this my whole six years at
Hogwarts and the moment has finally come where all of the work pays off. Wow.

“Oh my God, Hermione, you got it?!”

I turned to Sue with a wide grin and nodded. She squealed and gave me a huge hug.

“Here, hold onto it for me.” I handed her the badge and went to opening my letter.

“Ohhh it's so *shiny*!”

I chuckled and pulled out the parchment. Unfolding it carefully, I began to read the elegant
emerald script.

*Dear Miss Granger,*

*We are very pleased to award you with the Head Girl position of your graduating class. This
is a coveted honor and we think that you will do a fine job at carrying out the duties that come
with the title. Among these include*

*-Scheduling and running all Prefects meetings with the chosen Head Boy
-Assigning patrol shifts for yourself and the Head Boy as well as those of the prefects
-Planning the trips to Ho**gsmeade with the chosen Head Boy
-Awarding as well as taking away house points*

*On the train ride to Hogwarts, you are to run the Prefect meeting with the chosen Head Boy to
inform the younger students of their responsibilities. You are required to attend a meeting in my
office after the Welcome Feast for debriefing along with the chosen Head Boy. Your bedtime hours
have been extended to unlimited in order to fit in any impromptu patrols, emergencies, etc cetera.
If you should choose to abuse this power or any of the others listed above or covered at the
meeting in my office, necessary precautions will be taken such as, but not limited to: Suspension
of your title, detention, expulsion. You are to wear your badge during school hours unless
i**nstructed otherwise by myself,* *any of the other professors or Headmaster.*

*You will find enclosed, a list of necessary books and equipment required for your year. If
you have trouble acquiring any of these items, please inform either myself or the professor in
charge of the class and the needed measures will be taken care of.*

*Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress*

Well that was certainly longer than my other letters. I knew the Heads had a lot of
responsibilities and rules but *wow*. I really hope this year's Head Boy is willing to
abide by the rules as much as I am. I have full confidence in Professor McGonagall and the others
to choose a fine candidate.

I set the letter down and focused on the tinier piece of parchment that contained my shopping
list for this year. It looked the same as any year with the books altering years and genres to fit
my new classes. I had already picked up most of the books I needed, predicting what most of the
reading material would be. The only things I was missing were a new set of robes and few extra
books for Advanced Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I wonder who our teacher will be this
year. There was only one Defense Against the Dark Arts professor I had a keen interest in, and that
was Professor Lupin. I figured out halfway through my third year that he was a lycanthrope and
because someone wasn't so secretive with the poor man's condition, he was sacked. I really
do miss him.

I looked back at the owl and saw that it was chewing on the treat that Sue had gotten for it.
The owl looked very beaten up and ruffled. This must not have been his first stop of the day.
It's a good thing that I told Sue to feed him something or I'm afraid he may have fainted.
Looks like I'm developing a soft spot when it comes to owls. Come to think of it, I felt kind
of guilty—I had been basically ignoring Crookshanks when Hedwig was around. My poor kitten!

“Hey Sue?”

“Yeah?” She answered from behind one of the shelves filled with ink refills.

“Can I step out for a few to get something for Crookshanks?”

“Sure sweetie, but be back soon. You getting your Hogwarts letter means that there are going to
be about ten dozen kids in here within the span of an hour. Oh and could you pick up some more owl
treats as well? I'm afraid we're running short.”

I laughed knowingly, “Alright. I'll be back in a jiff.”

I stepped out into the slightly crowded streets and made a break for *Magical Menagerie*
down the street. This was the store where I had bought Crookshanks just three summers ago with the
leftover birthday money my parents had gotten me from years past. They not only sold pets, but
specific treats for specific animals so that the customers would always come back. I use to come
her religiously last summer, doting Crookshanks with treats galore. But now that I had Hedwig to
take care of as well with a jar full of treats, I didn't think twice about going back to
*Magical Menagerie* and getting Crookshanks something as well.

I opened the familiar wooden door and heard the bells chime to announce another customer. The
shop was tightly packed, as usual, and I could scarcely see the walls around me. Luckily, my
familiarity with the store proves to be useful as I navigate my way towards the front counter. The
familiar witch was manning the counter accordingly and gazing around at her heavily packed store
fondly. She still wore the same heavy black spectacles as when I first met her, but some other
things had changed. For one, I now knew her name to be Miss Lynch. She was widowed a few years
before I met her and had a very positive outlook on life, much like Sue. She had always found me a
pleasurable customer, or so she claims. Maybe it was just a ploy to get me to buy more stuff for
Crookshanks?

“Hello Miss. Lynch.” I said brightly as I arrived at the counter.

“Why if it isn't little Hermione Granger. I haven't seen you since last summer.
How've you been?”

“Busy.” I lied. I didn't want her to think I had been neglecting Crookshanks or anything.
Which I hadn't been! I've just been occupied with other things—busy. Hey, looks like I
wasn't lying after all.

“Ahh with your seventh year coming up, you should be.” I nodded and she gave me a knowing smile.
“You need some more of my cat treats?”

“Yes please.”

“Hold on…” She disappeared beneath the counter and I could hear the sound of drawers being
opened and closed as she searched for my purchase. “Here we are.”

She emerged with a small bag of mouse-shaped treats that Crookshanks loved so much. When you
placed one on the floor, it scattered about like an actual mouse for him to chase after.
Crookshanks had always loved chasing mice at Hogwarts, but since my parents keep such a clean
house, he never had any to chase over summer.

“That'll be five sickles.”

I dug in my pocket and handed her the appropriate amount of currency. “Thank you, Miss
Lynch.”

“No problem, Hermione. Come back soon, you hear?”

I smiled and nodded as I made my way out of the crowded shop. She should really think of
expanding or something. That tiny shop can only hold so many customers.

I made my way back towards the stationary shop briskly and arrived in front of *Eeylops Owl
Emporium*, which was conveniently located right across from it. I entered the dimly lit shop and
saw that it wasn't nearly as crowded as *Magical Menagerie**.* There were a few
customers scattered about and I was thankful that I could actually see around so I could find the
treats I was looking for. I had never been here before, seeing as how Sue had bought the treats in
the jar and whenever Hedwig chose to arrive at my house, I served her raw carrots. There were caged
owls everywhere, waiting to be purchased. I saw a few snowy owls similar to Hedwig in the far
corner and smiled fondly. Shelves aligned the walls and formed small walkways every which way. One
had the label *Treats for* *that special Owl in your life.* It made me giggle, so I
decided to give it a go. The shelf was full of treats in every edible flavor I could think of an
owl liking—lemon, fresh snow, corn, pumpkin, caramel cluster, and even one made by the same company
as *Bertie Bott's* that claimed to be an owl-friendly substitute to the delectable bean.
That didn't sound very appealing so I decided on the fresh snow and pumpkin flavors and went
about to find the front counter, hoping that Hedwig would like them.

I found it soon enough and was about to get in line before someone stepped in front of me with a
large bag of owl nuts. I stiffened as I recognized the ebony locks and stepped back to the shelter
of one of the nearby shelves. The cashier greeted him with a smile and ran up his purchase. I
didn't bother listening to their voices. What important things could they possibly be talking
about? Besides, there were other customers here so this wouldn't take too long. I hope. I know
Potter has a tendency of talking a lot but hopefully even his big head can realize that there are
other people here.

Within two minutes, Potter exited. Crisis averted. Last time we met outside of school, things
got ugly, as you can probably recall. I delicately removed myself from my not-so-secret hiding
place and arrived at the counter. The cashier greeted me with the same smile he had given Potter,
except it seemed a bit more forced. Of course it did. He just rang up the *great* Harry
Potter. Anyone pales in comparison to that.

He handed me my bag and I thanked him politely. Stupid favoritism. I think he handed Potter his
bag a little more gently than *that**.* I swear I felt a bit of hostility behind it.
Stupid Potter. He always gets special treatment. I shouldn't have hidden behind that shelf. I
should have walked up to him and slapped him. Why? Well, he's Harry Potter. I might get
arrested for it, but hey, at least I would count myself as brave.

*Quit your dreaming, Granger.* My mind argued, *You've already proved yourself to be
a coward.*

I sighed. I was right—well the voice in my head was right. I wasn't brave. I was and always
would be a scared 12-year-old hiding behind a porcelain sink. Nothing was going to change that.

I entered the shop to see Sue dusting. I placed my purchases on the counter and Sue looked at me
with a concerned expression. “Why so glum?”

“It's nothing, don't worry about it.”

She could sense that I didn't want to talk about it. “Alright, whatever you say. What kind
of treats did you pick up for Hedwig and Crookshanks?”

“Mice treats for Crookshanks and… I didn't know what flavor of treats I should get for
Hedwig so I just picked out pumpkin and fresh snow.”

“That's fine. I got her pumpkin last time, too.”

I nodded, glad I hadn't completely mucked that up. I put the owl treats in the cupboard next
to the jar and put Crookshanks' treat next to my coat. The bell to signify customers rang and
me and Sue froze. This was the beginning—the first back-to-school customer. You could say that we
smelt it. Sue rushed over to my side and plastered on a faux grin.

“They're here…” I said softly.

“Brace yourself, kid.” She said in an equally quite tone. “It's going to be a long day.”

~*~

And it was. It was the longest work day of the summer and when I got home, all I wanted to do
was curl up on the sofa and take a nice, long nap.

I kicked my trainers off and set to find Crookshanks the moment I entered the door. I found him
in my room, lying lazily atop my comforter. He looked so peaceful that I didn't have the heart
to wake him. But, like me, he is a light sleeper and was awake the moment I opened the door,
choosing to reveal his true state of consciousness a few moments after I entered. He stretched with
his bottom up in the air and padded to the edge of the bed, tilting his head as if asking what I
wanted. Oh the joys of having a half-Kneazle. You never had to dance around the subject. If only
people were like that.

I pulled out the bad of mice treats and could see his squashed face light up in excitement. I
laughed and opened the bag to dangle one in front of his face. “See? I haven't forgotten about
you.”

I tossed the treat onto the floor and watched as it scattered along the carpet of my room and
into the hallway. Crookshanks was immediately on its tail and I watched on fondly. He may be
intelligent, but Crookshanks is also one who knows how to have a good time, not ignoring his cat
instincts whenever something smaller than him that squeaks is gallivanting about.

I took off my jacket and tossed it into my hamper. I saw my Hogwarts letter sticking up and
snatched it before I could think otherwise. I didn't want my badge and letter to be thrown
around in the washer. Well, the badge at the very least. I decided to put my badge on my desk and
post the letter on the fridge. My parents had told me they would be away until well after midnight
and not to wait up for them. I wouldn't dream of staying up that late and wanted them to know
as soon as possible that I had made Head Girl. The only way to get that across to them was to post
the letter on the fridge. No matter what time they got home, my dad always went for the fridge for
a snack. He would see the letter, tell my mum, and in the morning, there would be a huge pancake,
sausage, eggs, and hash brown breakfast waiting for me.

I ran downstairs and attached the letter to the fridge with a content smile. I looked over at
the calendar close by it and my smile faded slightly. September 1 was only a few days away. My work
days would be up a day before so I could make the final arrangements and then *poof*, I'm
done. I really hope all of my pessimistic ideas aren't true and that Sue's little
“prediction” was the actual outcome.

Oh, who am I kidding? It's Hogwarts. Pubescent teens, coursework, Head duties, they were all
going to be major contributing factors to the ultimate reveal. Let's hope that this year will
be uneventful. After all, with Voldermort gone, what could possibly go wrong?

Don't answer that.

-->



6. Return to a Dreaded Getaway
------------------------------



**A/N: As you can** **see****, I'm a bit late on the update. Last weekend and the
week following it were so hectic that I had** **no** **time whatsoever to write. I feel
horrible but I'm sure I can make it up to you. This chapter right here is a pretty damn long
one if I do say so myself, so that alone should make you very happy. And, because I love to spoil
you, I have a mini-flashback! Oh yeah, you heard me right. I'm pretty proud of this chapter and
hope you enjoy it. Ironically enough, I wrote 85% of this chapter while watching** **You've
Got Mail****. It was on TV yesterday and I was, like, “Well damn, if this isn't a sign to
write, I don't know what is!” So I finished the movie and** **loved** **it! I found a lot
of similarities between it and my story, actually. I can see where you guys got your ideas that I
based my story on it. The main guy's name is Joe, they hate each other, and the girl is funny
as hell. I found one more similarity, but I won't tell you because I haven't written it
yet. For those who know the movie well, I think you can figure it out when it comes into
play.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. Hermione Granger isn't mine. The only way they
would be is if I had a time machine and wrote them myself before JKR even thought of it.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Returning to a Dreaded Getaway**

Time flies when you least want it to. Don't believe those other stupid quotes that tell you
otherwise. The moments you want to last forever are the ones who fall to the wrath of time. Like
life in general, it pretty much sucks.

It was now nine thirty, exactly an hour and a half before the Hogwarts Express left the
platform. I was about to walk out the door as soon as I finished my traditional back-to-school
breakfast. Every day since I started primary school, my parents have always gotten up an hour
before me (not an easy feat as the years progressed, let me tell you) and cooked me a
*humongous* breakfast—one that put my celebratory Head Girl meal to shame. There were
scrambled eggs, wheat toast, flapjacks, sausages, bacon, hash browns, and my personal favorite,
blueberry waffles. It was a wonder I never got fat. Thank you freakishly high metabolism.

My trunk and Crookshanks' carry-on were by the door, all ready to go. I had packed all of my
necessary equipment, plus a few extra rolls of parchment and quills for obvious reasons. Sue had
provided me with five years' worth of supplies, and for that I thanked her. Merlin knows I
would need it. But the one thing that I refused to leave the house without was the 900-odd letters
between me and Joe Bloggs. I never wanted to let them out of my sight, let alone risk my parents
coming across them. The last thing I needed was them on my case about how I didn't need a
pen-pal system to make friends. My mum would most likely tell my aunts and they would never let me
forget it. So, naturally, bringing them with me was the only solution. I shrunk them down to the
size of tiny gum pieces and put them in one of my porcelain boxes that most girls would use for
make-up or accessories. In case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not like most girls.
If this is the first time that you're noticing this, I suggest you beef up your context
clues.

I mentally checked off all of my supplies as I took one last gulp of my orange juice. Parchment,
quills, uniform, extra robes, pointed hat, books, dragon hide gloves, cauldron, winter coat, brass
scales, telescope. All set. I took my plate to the sink and rinsed of the excess syrup and crust.
My mum looked up from her latest novel and I forced a smile. “I'm all ready to go.”

“Great, honey. I've already got the car all warmed up for us. Oh, and don't forget your
badge.”

I looked over to where she pointed her thin finger and saw my shiny Head Girl badge lying
helplessly next to my glass of orange juice. “Oh… right.”

I picked up the badge and pinned it to my jumper. How could I have forgotten about my badge? I
checked my back pocket and felt for my wand. I had remembered that, so why not my badge? A few
months ago, I wouldn't be surprised if I only remembered my badge and forgot my whole trunk or
even Crookshanks. How peculiar.

“Hermione?”

My dad's voice brought me out of my trance. “Yeah?”

He motioned towards the front door. “Ready?”

I nodded. “Yes—yeah.”

I followed my parents out the door and into our four by four. You wouldn't take them for
owning that type of vehicle, but apparently it had always been my father's dream to own one.
You thought his pool obsession was bad? You should see him with this car. I wasn't even allowed
to bring a juice pouch in because he didn't want to ruin the interior. I love my dad, but when
I get older and earn enough money, I will be the first to hire a therapist.

The ride to King's Cross was a quiet one filled with my parents bickering over the
background noise of talk radio. The whole ride there I tried to come up with reasons to be excited.
It was school, so there was still a small something that kept me smiling… but that was it. I made a
promise to myself not to try and figure out who my pen-pal was unless absolutely necessary—in case
of emergency. I hadn't really thought of any situations that applied yet, but I figured I would
know when they came. Even though I desperately wanted to know who he was more than anything.
Especially after his last letter.

*Dear Anonymous,*

*The summer has come to an end and I fear that our letters are going to suffer a large
decrease in numbers. One of the small downsides to Hogwarts is that school becomes top priority.
You have become one of my dearest friends throughout these past few* *months and I don't
want to lose touch with you. I hope you feel the same about me or else I**'ll* *feel
like a total sap—well, I**'ll* *feel like a sap either way**, I suppose**.
I want to try and keep touch even though I know we'll both be focused on our school work. The
truth is that even though I'll be surrounded by people, I know that you're the only one I
truly care about.* *W**e agreed to keep this relationship faceless,* *and knowing
who you are would make* *me a hell of a lot happier, but* *I think the anonymity of it
all makes it easier to talk to you.* *No judgments, no worrying about rumors—it's a nice
relief. Not that I don't* *t**rust you! Gods, I think I may trust you with my life.
You've made this summer one to remember* *and for that I thank you. Let's hope this
school year is* *one to remember.*

*Love,
Joe Bloggs*

My stomach churned as I recounted his tender words. He trusted me with his life, even though he
had no clue who I was. Despite what Sue said about how he would be a fool not to love me, I still
had my doubts. I mean, who in their right mind would care about *me*?
Hermione-doesn't-care-about-a-thing-except-work- Granger? Well, apparently Joe Bloggs sold his
right mind a long time ago. I used to think it could all be bullshit—every one of his words, his
compliments, his advice—complete dung. But then I realized that no one could be *that* good at
faking compassion. If they could, they would be an actor and not writing letters to a desperate
seventeen-year-old. A desperate seventeen-year-old who was quickly becoming a little too attached
to her masked friend.

I haven't put a label on it yet, but I think you can guess what I'm talking about.

I had never really felt this way about someone before. The last time I had a hint of attraction
was when Victor Krum asked me to be his date to the Yule Ball in my fourth year. There were
butterflies in my stomach, my hands got all sweaty—it was pretty gross. But after he went back to
Bulgaria I had to let him go. We had agreed to always be friends but I haven't received a
letter from him in well over a year. I had tried telling myself that his famous Quidditch life had
gotten in the way, but since finding out that it wasn't a year-round sport… it was safe to say
that I could take a hint.

But this was different. This feeling, if you could call it that, had nothing to do with sweaty
palms and butterflies. That was probably because I had never been around him—well, I probably had
but not after the letters and this altered perspective. But nonetheless it was a feeling unlike any
I had ever experienced. It felt like dependence, like I couldn't do anything without him. But
that couldn't possibly be right. I hadn't even met this guy and here I was acting like some
hormone-driven girly girl. The kind I dedicated my life to making fun of. Was that even
possible?

Before I could elaborate any more on my dilemma, the car came to a smooth stop at the familiar
train station. My mum turned to me and I gave her a small smile as I got out and retrieved my trunk
and Crookshanks from the back. It was my dad's orders, so don't judge. Crookshanks was
giving me an agitated look and I quietly apologized before my parents got out of the car. My dad
quickly came up beside me and took my trunk and my mother gave me a quick side-hug.

“No need to be nervous, dear.” She said soothingly, “Let's go.”

Nervous? Wow, my mum was getting worse at reading me with age.

The three of us traveled through the mildly crowded station at a swift pace. I didn't bother
looking around for the hidden platform, as my feet moved mechanically towards the familiar place
between platforms nine and ten. I turned towards my parents to see them both sporting identical sad
smiles. It was like this every year, but yet it still got to me. My lips downturned to a slight
pout as they enveloped me in a group hug. It was like something you saw in those cheesy family
movies, except *real*. I know, it's shocking. Unlike the movies, we only stood there like
that for a good two second instead of twenty. Honestly, who hugs for twenty seconds?

My dad handed over my trunk and I kissed him on the cheek. “By dad.”

“Goodbye sweetie.”

I turned slightly. “Mum…”

Before I could finish my goodbye, she enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug. Okay that I was not
expecting. I tried to wiggle around a bit to get some circulation back in my lungs, but it
didn't help much. Thankfully, my dad pulled her off of me before I fainted.

There were tear stains on her cheeks that reached all the way down her neck. Her shoulders were
hitching up and down as she tried to form a coherent string of words. I hadn't even realized
she had been crying. I guess your air supply can vastly affect your grasp on your surroundings. Go
figure.

“I… am going… to miss you… *so much*.” She choked out.

I let out a small sniff and replied softly, “I'll miss you, too.”

“P-please remember to w-write us.”

“Don't I always?”

I gave my weeping mother one last tender hug before I went on my way. I could only look at her
tear-stained face for so long before breaking down myself. And today, that was the last thing I
needed to do. I was a mere inch away from the barrier that would lead me to the Hogwarts Express
when I turned back around. I don't know what made me do it, instinct maybe? The always
mysterious bond between parents and their child? Well, whatever it was, I caught my parents waving
at me with forced smiles and I had to bite my lip from letting out a sob. Stupid sappiness. I waved
meekly back at them and quickly ran through the metal barrier. The scene before me quickly turned
to one of a nearly empty platform. There were a few early birds like myself loading their luggage
and looking for a proper compartment, but other than that I was all by my lonesome.

I made my way through one of the many entrances to the train and pulled my trunk behind me. I
recalled hazily where the Prefect's compartment was from last year. Oh, how I remembered how
poised the former Head Girl was. She was beautiful, sweet, confident—too good to be true, really.
If I hadn't witnessed watching her last year, I would have thought she wasn't real. Gods,
how was I supposed to compete with that? I certainly wasn't beautiful, I was only sweet when I
wasn't in a foul mood (which was a rare occasion, now that summer was over), and being
confident wasn't even in my wiring. In fact, the only time I felt any sort of empowerment was
when I was talking down to Potter. His stupidity brings out the best in me—how keen.

I reached the door to the compartment and sent out a few silent prayers that the Head Boy was
going to be easier to deal with. Oh who was I kidding? How could the Head Boy be anything but? I
inwardly chuckled at my unneeded worries and slid open the door. What awaited me was like a scene
out of a pensive. Two boys were occupying the larger compartment surrounded by boxes of unopened
candy containers. I stood frozen by the door for a second, unable to produce any words. But I was
there for a reason, so I took a deep intake of breath and spoke with what I hoped was a dauntless
voice.

*“Has anyone seen* *a toad? Neville's lost one.”*

*I looked at the two boys expectantly and the red-haired one spoke up in an annoyed tone.
“We've already told him we haven't seen it.”*

*Instead of bluntly telling him how rude he was being like I would have done, I was entranced
by the wand in his hand. It looked as though he was about to perform a spell. My* *attention
was immediately drawn to it as I had never seen anyone else perform magic before. “Oh, are you
doing magic? Let's see it, then.”*

*I sat down next to the boy and looked at him expectantly. He looked taken aback as I
continued to stare. “Er — all right.”*

*He cleared his throat and recited a chant that was unlike anything* *I ever read in my
spell books.*

Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,
Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow*.*

*He waved his wand and nothing happened. The rat he was supposedly trying to change*
*into a different* *color* *remained* *its* *boring shade of gray and
asleep.* *Well that's what you get for using nursery rhymes in replace of actual
spells.*

*I raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is
it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in
my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so
pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard —
I've learned* *all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough —
I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”*

*Truth be told, I said that around a million miles an hour. It happened whenever I was around
new people. I felt the need to tell them my life story even though they were never really
interested. I was trying to get better, but apparently my progress was a moot point. I was almost
twelve and still had a mouth like my Aunt Gertrude—especially when she had one too many
cocktails.*

*The black-haired boy looked at the redhead who was sporting a stunned* *look on his
face. What? What di**d* *I say**?*

*“I'm Ron Weasley.”* *The redhead* *murmured.*

*“Harry Potter.”*

*“Are you really?” I asked in excitement. “I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra
books for background reading, and you're in* Modern Magical History *and* The Rise and
Fall of the Dark Arts *and* Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

*I was surprised I remembered all of the books. But, like I said, I become a blabbermouth
around new people.*

*“Am I?” asked Harry, a look of daze on his bespectacled face.*

*“Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me.” I
said. “Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope
I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I
suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad… Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's
toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon.”*

*The boys, from what I gathered, didn't seem too interesting. Well, except Harry. I
mean,* Harry Potter *at Hogwarts? Well, it was an honor to be in the same*
*compartment* *as him as it was. I'm sure he was a nice boy, from the way he presented
himself. But I had to leave and help Neville. I had made him a promise and I always stick by my
promises. You can quote me on that. That redheaded boy, though, he was an odd one. Not particularly
nice, but that could be because of my somewhat pushy first impression. Ahh, well. I would see them
in due time and make better judgments. Maybe, f I was lucky, I would even be their friend. That
would be lovely—friends on my first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.*

*I left with Neville trailing behind me.* *But as I pulled the compartment door shut, I
head Ron's voice and couldn't help but hear what he had to say.*

*“Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it.”*

*I felt my breath catch in my throat as I clicked the sliding door closed. Never mind making
better judgments. I could already tell that Ron Weasley wasn't and was never going to be my
friend.*

*Well, there was always Harry Potter.*

The now fully grown pubescent boys turned to look at me as I spoke in a déjà vu tone. “Please
tell me you're just here for the free sandwiches.”

“There are free sandwiches?” Ron asked in a hopeful tone.

I scoffed. “You're the one who's been a prefect for two years, you tell me.”

He gave me a sour look and got back to pigging out on his licorice wand. I rolled my eyes and
turned to the other one, who was currently looking at my chest. I immediately covered myself and
looked at him in disgust. “*Excuse* me!”

He seemed to break out of his trance and met my eyes with a small smirk. “Don't flatter
yourself.” He got up and walked towards me. I inched further away, my arms still crossed at my
chest, and he chuckled deeply. *What* could possibly so funny? He reached out a hand and
touched my arm, inching it down slowly as if it were nothing. And I was putting up one hell of a
resistance, let me tell you.

Alright so I was lying. I don't work out; therefore, my poorly toned arms were no match for
the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and his muscular fingers. I hated being helpless sometimes. The
only thing I had as a defense mechanism was my wits. Fantastic. So I was defenseless against him
trying to feel me up. Right in front of his best friend! And I thought he was just stupid. Now
he's stupid and dense.

As he removed both of my arms, I prepared myself to punch him with all of the strength I had.
I'll show the pervert who's really in charge here. But his words stopped me in my tracks.
“I was actually looking at *that*.” He pointed at my badge. I was confused for a moment, until
he pointed at his own chest. “Jinx.”

He was sporting an identical badge that shone with the brightness of a blinding car light that
was about to run you over. The truth—or in this case, the car—hit me. It hit me hard.
*Ohmigod.*

“You—*you're* Head Boy?”

“Yup.”

“I can't believe this. You were never even a prefect! How on Earth did you manage to get the
top position of authority at school when you can't even keep yourself out of trouble?”

He put a hand to his chest, covering his badge and getting the headlights to stop shining on my
face if only for a moment. “Hey, for your information I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble
finds me!”

“Oh *please*.” I drawled, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth. “You should
really carry a toilet around with you, because I don't want my loafers to become a permanent
container of shit coming out of your mouth.”

“Cute, very cute, Fuzzball. Tell me, how many professors did you have to suck up to in order to
get here? *Oh* Professor Snape your hair looks especially silky today.”

“That's disgusting. Almost as disgusting as you.”

“Now that hurt.” He said mockingly.

“Liar. Because that would imply that you have feelings.”

He stared at me for a moment. “Are you insinuating that I'm some sort of robot?”

“No.” I said honestly. “I am *insinuating* that you are a puppet. A puppet that has no mind
of his own and only does things to please others. Don't think I can't see through your
façade.”

“I'd rather be a puppet than an insufferable know-it-all.”

“Oh that's original; I haven't heard that one before. Where did you pick up on your
insults, the primary playground?”

He glared at me and opened his mouth for another insult (probably not a good one, but one
nonetheless) when a small voice from behind me spoke up and interrupted him.

“Excuse me, is this where the Prefect's meeting is?”

I turned around and saw a petite fifth year with short blonde hair and rosy cheeks looking at me
with wide eyes. I smiled at her obvious intimidation. I remember when I was like that, and how the
Heads helped me on my way to becoming a better prefect. With their kind faces in mind, I smiled at
the girl and nodded. “Yeah, this is the place. I'm Hermione Granger, you're Head Girl.”

I stuck out my hand for her to shake and her composure seemed to relax a bit. “Jenny
Cleary.”

“Well it's nice to meet you, Jenny. This is Harry Potter, your Head Boy.”

Her eyes seemed to widen to the size of golf balls when she got a good look at him. I resisted
the urge to roll my eyes as she brushed past me to shake Potter's hand as well, but noticeably
more vigorously. “It's an *honor* to meet you, Mr. Potter.”

Potter smiled in what the younger girl must have thought a charming manor. “Call me Harry.”

“Okay… *Harry*.” The girl giggled and I suppressed a gag. If this was what I was going to
have to deal with all year, I had to invest in some anti-nausea potion from the hospital wing.
These girls would be the death of me. The worst part of it was that he actually enjoyed the
attention. It was disgusting. He was nothing more than a horny puppet.

The two continued in a conversation that I didn't care to hear the specifics of, so, to save
myself, I took a seat in the far corner and prepared my opening speech for when the rest of the
returning and new prefects arrived. My hand brushed up against my porcelain box and I resisted the
urge to take a letter out and re-read it. I needed to focus on my speech and nothing else. If I
didn't review it, I would start babbling again. The last thing I wanted was to be a horrible
leader to the prefects. I took out my speech and began to read over my carefully places words. I
took out a quill not two minutes after I started and began to scratch out grammar mistakes,
horrible syntax, and just plan awful tone. I am never writing a speech at two o'clock in the
morning again. Truth be told, I wrote this whilst waiting for another letter. It was one of those
nights when neither of us could sleep so we decided to talk to one another. I figured he
couldn't live too far from me, because Hedwig always returned within a half an hour. But since
I didn't usually bother with watching television to pass the time away like a majority of the
human population, I settled with working on my speech. Bad idea.

By the time the rest of the prefects filed in, my speech was hardly legible. I crumpled up the
useless parchment and threw it to the ground. I had a good grasp of what I had written, so I would
be fine. Just fine. And if I chose to empty the contents of my breakfast on the students in front
of me, I knew the charm to clean it right up. I was ready.

Harry was busy mingling with most of the seventh year Prefects so I knew the duty of running the
meeting was going to be on me. What a shocker. I clapped my hands together loudly and got the
attention of a handful of students. I tried again and got a few more. Sighing, I took my wand out
of my pocket and cast a quick alarm charm I had found a few months previous when catching up on
some spells. It was mostly used on the field with Aurors when they needed to call attention to
their fellow forces. I felt it was appropriate for the occasion.

The loud noise surely made an impact. I saw some jump in midair as others just covered their
ears. It was a humorous sight, but being the bigger person required me to contain my laughter.
After a moment the chatter finally died down and I removed the spell. All eyes were on me, some not
so friendly, and I figured now was the time to speak up before they all jumped me.

“Umm… hi,” I started meekly. “Well we all know why we're here—we were all chosen to help
bring order to the school in result of our performances with leadership. With your newfound
influence over your fellow classmates comes responsibility. Harry and I will assign you all patrol
hours in which you must walk the corridors and check for any stray students that should be in bed.
Returning prefects, you know that you are only allowed outside of your common room after hours for
this reason and if you are caught by a fellow prefect, teacher, or myself and Harry, your
punishment will be determined by your head of house and may very well result in the stripping of
your position. You also have access to the private bathroom in which you may choose as a getaway
when things get a bit hectic. The password this year is spring breeze, so please use it wisely. The
date of the next meeting is Wednesday where you will get your patrolling assignments for the week
and be asked to bring forth any issues you find taking place in your house that we, as a group, can
help fix. Any questions?”

Not a hand was raised and I smiled smugly. Turning to Potter, whose eyes were, surprisingly, on
me for once, I asked sweetly, “Anything you want to add, Harry?”

“Why yes, Hermione, there is.” He answered. Yet again, a most unexpected occurrence.

He walked to stand to my right, a good inch from my arm. He addressed the room with an air of
confidence that I could only hope I presented as I went over the regulations. “This is my first
year with a position of this much importance and I must say that I am honored.” I rolled my eyes.
“I would like to bring up the issue of Quidditch try-outs as well. As Gryffindor Quidditch Captain,
I know that in order to hold try-outs, you must go to your head of house before properly assigning
a date. Since I know most of you are either captains yourselves or are on your house team, I would
like for you to pass around that a sign-up sheet for appropriate dates will be posted in the
entrance hall for all captains to see and use for their try-outs after the date is approved by
their head. The reason for this is because in previous years, we have always had the issue of
conflicting dates and I, for one, would like to save us the hassle and get straight to the game. So
get the date approved quickly so you can sign up for it before another team does. Remember, the
faster you pick your team, the faster you can start practices.”

He ended with a grin and got a round of thunderous applause from a group of girls directly in
front of us. I hated to admit it, but he actually made sense. Who would have thought that Potter
actually prepared for this meeting?

I clapped my hands together and spoke over the now faded applause. “Well that's it,
everyone. If you'll take a look to your right, there is a list of patrol times on the wall for
the remainder of the train ride. Remember, it's your responsibility to help the younger
students find their way to Hagrid and the carriages.”

They all made a beeline for the list except a few who I knew to be Slytherins by the way they
were lounging on the seats. Plus, Malfoy was in the middle of them, sneering at the way all of the
others were so eager to get their first assignment. I have no idea how he's kept his Prefect
position for so long, but if I had anything to say about it, it would be gone within a week's
time.

The students returned to their compartments little by little with a few straggling behind to ask
a few questions or start their patrols in the nearby cart. I chose to stay in here, as I had no
other carriage to go to. My things remained untouched as I pulled out one of the books I had
brought to read for leisure, *Hogwarts: A Histor**y (Revised Edition)*. Whilst shopping
for my remaining books I had to purchase for school, I came upon this little beauty at *Flourish
and Blott's*. The display case alone was so beautifully decorated that it was a no-brainer
to buy—besides, I knew my old copy was vastly outdated and I deserved to update it. I had worked
hard for my pay, so why not splurge once in a while on things other than necessities? Well, books
were kind of a necessity to me anyway, so it wasn't as if I was spending all of my money on
useless things like new dress robes. Not that I would need any.

I knew that the Head's were never assigned patrols on the train, so I didn't have to
worry about being interrupted by anything or any*one*. The only thing I had left to do before
getting back to Hogwarts was change into my robes. And, being the only one left in the compartment
for small periods of time, I had plenty of opportunities to choose from to change. I was a pretty
fast changer and had purposely worn clothes that were easy to take off. Not like that you perverts!
It was strictly professional. So, when I knew I would be alone for a good measure of time, I put
down my book and grabbed my robes, not bothering to lock the compartment. Bad idea.

I had put on my skirt, socks, and Mary Janes without incident. But as soon as I grabbed my
white-collared shirt, the door began to open and I had no time whatsoever to cover myself properly.
I tried to come up with something in my head to make me feel better. *It was only another fifth
year confused about his or her new shift… that was all. Just a fifth year.*

Unfortunately, someone up there doesn't like me and I was standing face-to-face with my
co-Head. He stood there shocked for a moment and I chose that time to properly cover myself up with
the fabric of my shirt. I saw a tiny smirk begin to form on his face and prepared myself for one of
his snide remarks.

“Nice bod, Granger.”

I scowled at him and turned around so that I could properly button up my shirt without being too
scrutinized. Apparently, though, he wasn't done.

“Hey, it was a compliment, no need to shy away.”

“You've never once complimented me in all of the time we've known each other, so why
now? I know it's just you and your clever little way of insulting me. I'm not stupid.”

He was silent and I nodded to myself. That's what I thought.

I pulled my jumper over my head and pinned my Head Girl badge to it. We should be arriving soon,
so I looked out the window and saw the gleaming lights of the large castle in the distance. I
smiled and turned around to see Potter still standing there, looking at me. I didn't like it
when he did that. It made me think he was plotting more ways to make my life miserable.

“What are you still doing here? Don't you have your friends to get to?” I asked icily.

“We're supposed to help with the younger students getting on the carriages and stuff, right?
Ron told me the Heads always do it together.”

“Oh, right. Well they don't *have* to.”

“You want to get rid of me.” I said bluntly.

“Obviously.”

“Then I'll stay by your side the whole time.”

I groaned and dropped the conversation. This is why people like Potter shouldn't be allowed
to think, it always lead to bad things. Very bad things. Especially to people like me—possibly the
only person, besides the Slytherins, who couldn't stand him. He seemed so nice on the first
train ride, why did he have to go off and ruin it? Things may have been different. But at least now
I had someone to practice my wits on to sharpen them for later use. Sue always said that good wits
could get you places. That's how she got her first loan on the shop. She had made friends with
the goblin in charge and gotten a great deal on it. Oh Sue, where are you now?

The train came to a slow stop and I grabbed my trunk and Crookshanks. Surprisingly, he
hadn't tried to paw his way out of the cage this time. Usually, he reached out a paw and I let
him out to wander around the compartment. Odd. I shook it off as nothing and followed Potter out of
the compartment in silence. We both emerged onto the crowded platform and started our first
assignment together. We took turns giving directions to younger years and making sure the Prefects
were doing their job. Not surprisingly, I saw Malfoy get onto the first carriage to Hogwarts,
ignoring the calls of his fellow students. At least Potter had the decency to help. Wait, hold up.
I was actually considering Potter to be a better influence than Malfoy? Oh, I needed to lie
down.

Thankfully, it didn't take long to escort the students to their destinations and soon me and
Potter were in the last carriage with a few straggling students, a pair of girls. They gave us a
good once over and began whispering to each other, no doubt a rumor in its beginning stages. It was
commonly known that Potter and I detested each other. So the news that we were both the chosen
Heads was sure to cause quite a stir. I really couldn't wait to see what they came up with. It
was easy to laugh off as nothing. Not one person in the school knew me, so who were they to dictate
what I did or didn't do in the form of petty rumors? I liked to think of myself as the higher
person in the situation. Only once had someone's comments about me really dug deep. But now
wasn't the time to dig that up, especially with one of the perpetrators sitting three inches
away from me.

The carriage arrived at the school in silence, save for the whispered conversation of Tweedledee
and Tweedledum. The breeze outside was light as I laid my trunks down with the others already piled
up. I whispered a quiet goodbye to Crookshanks and put him with the rest of the pets. I looked
around for a familiar bundle of white feathers but found nothing. I swallowed my disappointment and
continued on my way towards the castle.

The Great Hall was exactly the way I remembered it, a night sky painted on the high ceiling
almost as bewitching as its counterpart just outside the windows. I took my seat in a less crowded
part of the Gryffindor table and awaited the first years to go through their sorting. It came and
went quicker than I remembered it as a first year myself and before I knew it, Dumbledore arose for
his traditional beginning of term speech. All eyes were on him as he clapped his hands. The silence
was almost deafening before he chose to speak.

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!” He began cheerily. “First, I would like to announce that
the summer communication system that the professor's and I cooked up at the end of last term
was a huge success so thank you to all who participated. We have all decided to allow the system to
continue throughout the school year but ask that you still focus on your studies as well.” He gave
a meaningful look at the crowd and some chucked. “If all goes well, we are prepared to reward you
with a celebratory ball for all participants. But this goal can only be reached if you all keep up
with your lessons as well. For those who wish to sign up, I'm afraid we can only offer new
match-ups at the end of the year. But for those involved now, I hope that you find your match to be
pleasing if you choose to reveal yourselves.” At that moment, I *swear* that he was looking at
me. Impossible, my eyes must be playing ticks on me.

“As for other news, I would like to announce our new Head Girl and Boy for this year. Please
stand up when I call your name. Remember that your Heads are here to help with order and have every
right to punish and take away house points as the professors and I. Take a bow, Harry Potter and
Hermione Granger!”

I stood up meekly and the applause was almost overwhelming. I knew it wasn't for me, so I
didn't let my head get too big. It was all for him. I could hear whispers similar to the ones I
heard from the two girls on the carriage all around me and tried to ignore them as I sat down.
Dumbledore continued with his speech, but I wasn't listening. I was too entranced with the
whispers. Did that many people have an opinion of me? No, wait. I'm not supposed to care. Their
opinions meant nothing. They were like gnats, easy to ignore. Who cared what they thought of me?
The only person's thoughts I cared about were Joe Bloggs'. What if he was one of the ones
whispering? Is that why I'm being so paranoid? What if he's looking at me right now and
making a bet with his friends on when Potter and I would kill each other?

Impossible. He would never do that. He was too kind.

But what if he was only kind to me, *Anonymous*, but, like everyone else in this school,
made fun of bookworm Hermione Granger? The fears I had expressed to Sue were all coming back. If we
ever chose to reveal ourselves, would he be disappointed, angry, amused? Oh Merlin, I think I was
going to faint. I looked around me and saw twenty guys that could very well be my Joe Bloggs. He
could be eating, talking, laughing. He could be blonde, brunette, ginger, or ebony haired. His eyes
could be blue, brown, green, hazel, gray, or even purple. He could be *anyone**.* Why did
that scare me? I knew him, and I knew that he liked me for me.

Then why, in the pit of my stomach, did it feel like an avalanche just fell. What exactly was I
getting myself into?

-->



7. Do You Believe in Karma? I Do.
---------------------------------



**A/N: Hey look! It's a semi-early chapter!!! Well, Christmas Break is here and because of
that, more time for writing! YAYYY :) I'm going to stick to my weekend deadline, as I have a
few** **things planned here and there, so don't get your hopes up too high. As for the movie
reference in this chapter, I looked it out and I'm pretty sure I got the timing right. If I
didn't, let me know and I'll fix it.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine, nor are his rippling pectorals.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Do You Believe in Karma? I Do.**

I felt consciousness wash over me slowly as the blackness faded from behind my closed eyes into
a warm orange glow. My eyes fluttered open and I had to blink a few times to adjust my heavy
eyelids. I rolled from my position on my side to look up at the ceiling. Only, it wasn't a
ceiling, it was a layer of red fabric draped over the four posts of my new canopy. I let a tired
smile stretch on my lips as I propped myself on my elbows. Looking around my new bedroom I let the
events of last night flash back into my memory out of habit.

My feast freak-out had eventually died down after a few minutes. I had literally stuffed my face
with steak and potato pie afterwards, though, so it wasn't a proud moment. Only after
Dumbledore had dismissed us had things began to look up, if only for a short amount of time. I
hadn't seen Potter my whole walk to McGonagall's office, which made me hopeful that maybe
normality had been restored and he had realized that there was no way that he could ever hold the
position of Head Boy. But when I had entered her office, I almost had a heart attack. He had beaten
me there. Before I could even think of wiping the look of shock from my face, he turned around and
shot me a triumphant grin, a grin that screamed a five-year-old's chant of “Ha ha ha ha ha ha,
I beat you!” in that annoying sing-song voice.

McGonagall had gone over the responsibilities that were printed on our letters and informed us
that since the ball had been announced, it was our responsibility to plan it. Seeing as how I was
actually going to benefit from the amount of time I was supposed to put into this task, I
didn't have that much of a problem. I even wondered vacantly if that was the whole reason I was
handed the position in the first place—so a member of the pen-pal system could arrange the
reward-type ball. But I discarded the thought as ridiculous. If it was true for me, it had to be
true for Potter as well.

Potter needing even *more* groupies. Hah, that was a laugh.

But it wasn't until after our meeting that things got even more personal. I swear, for a
good hour I wanted to *kill* my favorite professor. No incoming Heads ever know what the
arrangements are for sleeping quarters. Do you get your own or stay in the same dormitory as you
had been the past six years? Since I never saw my preceding Heads around in general, I had no idea
going in. But when McGonagall began leading Potter and I into a completely different corridor, my
mind went into overdrive. I had always hoped to get rid of those annoying gossip queens I called
roommates. Honestly, if I had to hear one more opinion on which sex position was the best, I would
puke.

We arrived at a portrait that reminded me vaguely of Marie Antoinette. The woman was wearing a
powder blue gown that was poufy beyond normal capacity. Her hair was a fair shade of blonde and
styled atop her head in a loose bun with a white feather sticking haphazardly out of it. She turned
her head and smiled sweetly down at us.

“Password?” She had asked.

I looked at McGonagall and she said calmly, “*Aide-mémoire*”

The portrait opened and I followed McGonagall into the expansive living area I would now call my
common room. I soaked up the gorgeous setting with wide eyes that I had only sported at a book
signing when I met James Patterson.

The room was so warm in décor I thought I might suffer from a heat stroke. The wooden floors
made no creaking sounds as we traveled further into the room, which was a welcome relief, and were
almost fully covered in ornately woven rugs. The walls were dark grey stone covered in portraits
and tapestries of famous witches and wizards throughout history. I bet I could name each and every
one, but I'll save that for later. In the corner was a fireplace about as large as the one in
Gryffindor tower with flames already covering the wood. Surrounding it was a large sofa and single
over-stuffed chair, both a dark shade of crimson and had matching wool blankets atop them. There
was a table placed dead center with the latest edition of the daily prophet, a vase filled with
extra quills (which I had full intent on using later), and single table lamp covering it. But my
favorite part of the room by far was the wall solely covered in bookshelves. I couldn't contain
the urge to run over to it and begin skimming the titles.

I heard a chuckle behind me and turned to see Potter covering his mouth with a hand as
McGonagall gave him a distasteful look. I thanked her and glared at the immature boy.

“This” McGonagall said as she motioned to the room around us, “will be your common room for the
remainder of the school year.”

My stomach dropped as something hit me. It hit me hard. “You… you mean to share?”

She nodded, “Well yes, Miss Granger, to share.”

I turned from her to hide my distaste. The last thing I wanted was to show her or Potter how
disgusted this made me feel. I think I would rather go back to my old roommates.

But I didn't have time to put up a proper argument, as McGonagall lead us up the single set
of stone steps that lead up to what I assumed to be our *separate* rooms. Thankfully, they
were. McGonagall left after showing us the hallway and Potter and I were left alone. Now I
don't know about him, but I sprinted to the door marked *Head Girl* and shut it behind me
without a single look back. What awaited me there was a sight too gorgeous for words. I thought the
common room was fantastic—but my private quarters trumped it all.

The carpet was an orange and black ornate design that covered the entire perimeter of the room.
The wallpaper was a simpler pattern that highlighted the small amount of green I could make out of
the carpet if I narrow my eyes. There was a wooden molding that separated the green wallpaper to an
orange one of similar taste. The bed was a gorgeous dark chocolate wooden base with such detailed
canopy posts that I thought I was in a medieval castle rather than my new bedroom. There was a
white fireplace, a fair degree smaller than the one downstairs against the far wall with a
high-backed crimson chair sewn with satin fabric. There was a painting of Hogwarts hung above it
that looks as though it was well over five-hundred years old. That alone was enough to complete the
room. But, of course, the thing that sold me was the nearly empty bookcase (that I was most
definitely going to fill up later) as large as a doorway snug between two busts of Hogwarts
founders Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor. I remember reading something about the two
founders before, but chose not to think too much on it. I was tired and wanted to give my new silk
sheets and feather-stuffed pillows a try.

And so here I was, fully rested and ready to start my first day back at Hogwarts.

I made my way down the hall to the single bathroom in-between both mine and Potter's. It
wasn't so much that we had to share a single bathroom that bothered me—it was the fact that we
had to share the same *shower*. I had my own bathroom at home and I like it that way. I knew
where I had been and where everything was. But with Potter it was a whole other story. I had no
idea where he'd been, if he puts he cap back on the toothpaste, or if he spits and misses the
sink. Oh Gods, I had to keep some cleaning supplies handy if I was ever going to make it through
this. Thankfully, I knew I was going to be the first one in there since I always woke up earlier
than anyone else at this school, most of the time without an alarm. If that's not talent, I
don't know what is.

I pushed open the door and the lights turned on to greet me. I muttered a locking charm to
guarantee I would not be disturbed as I turned on the shower so that it could warm up. It
didn't take long for me to be in and out without any incident. I never take long in the
bathroom, unlike my former roommates. And I take pride in that. Why waste time in the bathroom when
there are a billion other things that I could be doing? Studying, reading, cleaning, sewing… the
list goes on. The world would be a much better place if people didn't waste time in the
bathroom. Things would get done faster, we would save energy.

Unfortunately for me, the only one who would even think of listening to my views was tucked
asleep in her bed.

I gave up mentally rambling about something I knew would never be spoken and went downstairs.
The fire from last night was down to a dull smoke and I adjusted it so that the warm orange flames
enveloped the stone fireplace once more. As I was backing away, I felt my backside hit something
and heard a loud crash that made me nearly jump out of my shoes. I quickly turned around and saw
that I had knocked over the fireplace accessories. I gingerly bent down to readjust the iron tools
and wiped off my hands after I moved them a little more to the left to prevent this from happening
again. Only I would knock over a ten pound set of tools at six in the morning.

As I turned around to make my way out of the common room, I had to put a hand over my mouth to
prevent from screaming, but that didn't help a small squeal coming out of my mouth. There, in
all of his morning glory, was Potter, scratching his messier-than-usual mane and looking as though
he could use a few more hours of sleep. He was clad in only green boxers. And when I say only, I
mean *only*. His tanned, trim abdominals were out for me to see and—hesitantly—admire. Just
because I hated him doesn't mean I can't admire how his Quidditch career had whipped him
into shape.

“Do you always get up this early?” He asked, completely ignoring how he scared me half to death
and observing how I was already fully dressed.

“Yes.” I replied simply, the hand that had been atop my moth now hanging limp at my side.

He groaned. “Good God, Granger.”

“Some of us like to get an early start.”

“Yeah, and some of us like *sleep*!”

I scoffed and picked up my book bag, which I had already stuffed with books, quill, and
parchment the night before. I knew I might have forgotten it, so I had placed it on the couch in
plain sight just in case. I think it added to the picture I was drawing for my new roomie. Early
riser versus someone who enjoys sleeping in—take one.

“Don't worry, Sleeping Beauty, I won't knock over any more fireplace tools to disturb
you.”

He placed a hand over his chest as he spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh that's
ever so kind of you. Really, I'm touched.”

“As you should be.”

“You know what, Granger? You need to unwind a little.”

“*Unwind*?”

“Yes, unwind.”

“I'm not a knit scarf!”

“Oh, I'm sorry, you're right.” I nodded, “You're just a shrew. A wound up shrew who
insists on getting up in the wee hours in the morning to ruin normal people's sleeping
habits.”

My smugness soon turned to rage as I took a few steps towards him. “Is something the matter with
your legs? You and your rippling pectorals could just walk back up to your room and go straight to
sleep instead of bothering me down here.”

He remained silent for a moment and I assumed I had made an impact on his pea brain. But as he
arched an eyebrow, the little hope I had in my chest died away. “Rippling pectorals?”

Shit. I hadn't meant to say that. It just sort of… came out. “Er… yes?”

Wrong answer. He smirked and took a step towards me. I could feel his ego pressing against me,
even though he was a good three feet away. “Last time I checked, you thought I was repulsive.”

I tried to cook up with a way to get me out of this. It was proving more difficult than I
originally planned. There was only one way I could *possibly* talk my way out of this. “Of
course I think you're repulsive. I was just quoting a movie.”

“Really? And what movie were you borrowing rippling pectorals from?”

I bit my lip. “Hercules.”

“The cartoon?”

“Of course the cartoon, what other Hercules film is there?”

He remained silent for a moment and I began to relax. Maybe my trip to the cinema one hot June
day had actually paid off… “Alright, Granger, I'll let you off the hook.” I let out a visible
breath, but he continued talking. “But if you ever wake me up this early again. My rippling
pectorals and me will have something more to say about it.”

“My rippling pectorals and *I*.” I corrected.

He rolled his eyes and retreated back to his room. I waited until he was out of hearing distance
before letting out a gigantic groan. Imagine what that could have turned into if I hadn't had
my wits. I would have turned into a babbling teenager with nothing but his chest on my mind. Not
that I was even thinking about his chest in the first place. Honestly, it was just a slip of the
tongue. I was taking in his appearance and happened to notice he was shirtless and by being
shirtless, was exposing his pectoral muscles. His *rippling pectoral* muscles. Oh that Megara
and her quick quips. That girl was my idol. Even if the movie was a horrible representation of the
actual Greek myth, it was still an entertaining watch. And, as of now, a great excuse to explain a
simple slip of the tongue.

Adjusting my book bag on my shoulder, I exited the portrait hole and tried my best not to wake
her, either. The last thing I needed was another person criticizing the time which I chose to get
up. Thankfully, she was peacefully snoring against the headrest of her chair. I gently closed the
portrait and continued on my way on the balls of my feet. When I reached a carpeted hall, I let my
steps become normal heel-to-toe in motion as I continued on my way to the Great Hall. All around me
I heard snores of portraits and tried hard not to wake any of them. My accident prone morning left
me feeling more conscious of my movements then I'd been in a while.

A vacant hall awaited me as I set my book bag down and piled food onto my plate. The smell of
freshly baked blueberry muffins called to me as I took two and waited patiently for McGonagall to
arrive with the timetables for the week. It took a while, as I was up a good hour before anyone
else. I used the time to my advantage and took out my copy of *Mastering Magical Theory: Your
Guide to Advanced Charms.* I was reading up on the more advanced version of the levitation charm
when I heard the soft hum of voices behind me. I raised my head from the pages just in time to
accept my schedule from Professor McGonagall and skimmed it right away.

I had Defense Against the Dark Arts first period. Wait… who was the new teacher? Bollocks. I had
been so focused on my own personal breakdown that I didn't even pay attention to the new
teacher announcement. How was I to prepare myself when I had no background information on the
teacher? Granted, I never really did, but at least I knew what they looked like! I sighed and
gathered up my stuff to walk to class. I would be a good fifteen minutes early so that would give
me plenty of time to catch up with the new teacher and make up for lost time. Suck-up you say? I
call it proper planning.

But as I reached the Defense room, no one was there. It was as vacant as one of my S.P.E.W
meetings. Well, at least I would be able to have my regular seat without anyone saying otherwise.
Finder's keepers. Not that anyone ever chose the front-center seat anyway—but one person always
got stuck sitting next to me more times than not. I just hoped that karma wasn't going to play
a big role in something as small as who I was going to sit next to for the remainder of the year.
But, by the way my morning was going, I wouldn't put money on that.

As I did in the Great Hall, I pulled out a book and began reading. Might as well be prepared if
I couldn't rub elbows with the new teacher.

The minutes passed quickly, as they always do when I'm reading. I didn't feel anyone sit
next to me, and let myself relax. Thank Merlin. I didn't lift my head from my book until I
heard the authoritative voice of my new teacher. It was a female voice, one I hadn't heard
before. I quickly put away my book and turned around to see a young woman who looked to be in her
mid-twenties walking to the front of the room. She had long blonde curly hair and dark and
twinkling eyes that decorated her pale, heart-shaped face. Beneath her teaching robes, she had on
black slacks and a hot pink blazer. She struck me as a poised woman as she walked with her
shoulders held high. Oh, how I wished I could walk like that without incident. It must be nice to
be accident proof.

Wait, scratch that.

She made it all the way to her desk before tripping over a stack of books.

The class burst out into laughter and I'm pretty sure I was the only one who wasn't
finding any sort of amusement in her fall. I knew what it felt like to be the clumsy one and have
people laugh at you for it. It sucked. But as she turned around and straightened her composure, she
was sporting a wide smile. Well what do you know; it *was* possible to laugh at your own
misfortune. I'll have to write that down.

She smiled charmingly at the class as the laughter died down. “Hello everyone. My name is
Professor Tonks. Sorry I'm late but I had a bit of a—ahem—late start.”

I heard a familiar chuckle beside me and nearly shrieked for the second time that morning.
“Christ.” I let slip out softly.

Potter turned to look at me with a slight smirk. “Well good morning to you, too, sunshine.”

I growled and turned back to the teacher, who was going over the curriculum for this year. I
quickly pulled out some parchment and a quill and began scribbling down her key points. It was very
similar to past years except for one teeny thing.

“We are going to be doing *a lot* of physical practices in this class. Now, the only reason
I'm making you do this is because when I was in school we never really covered any of that and
you can see where that's lead me.” The class nodded and a few let out noises of amusement. “You
will be graded on your performance accordingly. Now I'm a pretty observant person. When we
complete our first day here, I'll know what your limits are and I *will* push you to them.
All tests will be half written, including multiple choice and essay, and half physical where you
will demonstrate the given hex, jinx, etc cetera. Any questions?”

No one raised their hands and I was too busy inching my chair away from my least favorite person
to think of any. All in all, it was looking to be a pretty sucky day. And if my luck had anything
else to say about it, it was only going to get worse.

Oh, and it did.

It turned out that I had *every* class with Potter. But, thankfully, Defense Against the
Dark Arts was the only one where we sat next to each other. I was beginning to refer to this year
as the year of unneeded annoyances.

Right as classes for the day ended, I found it necessary to return to my dormitory before
dinner. Summer homework had nothing on what the teachers had been loading on us throughout the day.
Plus, I still had the Prefect's meeting and rounds to plan. Seventh year was proving to be very
interesting. Very interesting indeed. It was nothing I couldn't handle, though. I mean, I
wasn't called a know-it-all for nothing. I remember a few years back I used to think of it was
an insult. Now, I took the “insult” with pride. I would rather know it all than nothing. The name
gave me confidence—made me feel like I could accomplish anything. So thank you, immature children
from years past. It's your loss.

I climbed the stone steps to my room and put my book bag on the chair by my fireplace. I would
start working on the assignments after dinner. I had finished most of them in the breaks between
classes and lunch, but I still needed to get a start on two essays due by Friday. Thanks a heap,
Snape.

I took my robe off and tossed it on my bed to fold and put away later. I turned around the room
for a brief moment to see if I forgot anything. Nope. It's not like I needed to dress up for
dinner. I started to walk towards the door when something caught my eye. Outside of my window that
lead to the small balcony (I know, a *balcony*?) I saw a small movement. Before thinking
anything else of it, I opened up the window-door-thing and let a small breeze flow pass over me.
There, on the very edge of the small stone fence that aligned the edges of the balcony, was an
envelope. I narrowed my eyes and walked over to grab it before the wind blew it away. There
wasn't anything on the back, so I chose to open it. Maybe someone's letter got lost?

I felt really stupid as I opened up the letter to read it.

There, in blue ink, were the two words that could make my day a million times better.

*Dear Anonymous*

-->



8. A Truce with Claudius
------------------------



**A/N: Wow, are the reviews beginning to pack up! I mean, hot damn!! You guys are awesome, you
know that? :] I actually liked the way this chapter turned out, for once. I hope you like it, too.
The beginnings of major URST are definitely present towards the middle-end and, of course, LOTS of
dramatic irony. I'm not even kidding—it's** **really** **bad.** **Please don't
kill me *cowers***

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine, ya crazies!**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**A Truce** **with** **Claudius**

*Dear Anonymous,*

*How does it feel to be back at Hogwarts? Well, to be truthful, my first day has been anything
but pleasant. Turns out my new roommate is someone that hates my guts and has for quite some
time.* *Every time I try to be nice I'm shot down by another degrading comment. I really
have no clue what their problem is and frankly, it really bothers me that someone of their supposed
“collected and organized” demeanor could hold onto a feeling this strong for this long. This year
is going to be a trip, let me tell you. Luckily, I have plenty of distractions to busy myself with.
How abou**t you? Are you getting off to a bad* *start? Gods, I hope not. I think one of
us suffering is enough.*

*Love,
Joe Bloggs*

I had maneuvered back to my chair by the fireplace before reading the letter. It's a good
thing, too, because the fire helped ease the goose bumps that erupted on my arms and neck. Joe was
going through the exact same thing I was, give or take a few circumstances. I knew why Potter
detested me—it had been made perfectly clear to me six years ago. But now wasn't the time to
dwell. I had a response to write.

I summoned a book, parchment, and quill from my open trunk at the foot of my bed and settled
deeper into the plush cushions of my new favorite chair. I held the self-inking quill level to the
parchment and waited a moment before writing a proper response.

*Dear Joe Bloggs,*

*I'm sorry to hear about your new roommate. I offer my condolences and wish I could say
that I had a better first day. But I have never been one for lying. You see, I also have an
annoying roommate this new year. But, unlike you, I have no curiosity as to why they detest me.
Let's just say our past is anything but pleasant. Looks like we're in the same boat—what a
coincidence. At least we have each other to vent to, right? And because of that, I have full
confidence that neither of us with go insane. Thank Merlin. It's better to have someone that
understands by your side than someone who has no idea how you feel and can't help you in any
way.*

*Love,
Anonymous*

Truth be told, I can't pinpoint when we started using *Love* as our official signoff.
But I liked it, a lot. It made my stomach make happy little twists that reminded me there was
someone in Hogwarts who cared.

I turned towards the antique-looking bronze clock atop the fireplace mantelpiece. It was a good
five minutes past the start of dinner. The Great Hall was always open a good hour and a half at
dinnertime for stragglers, such as myself, who had other things that came before hunger. I think a
trip to the Owlery was in order.

I quickly sealed the letter and headed out the door, through the common room, and past the
portrait hole. The woman that occupied the portrait made a sound of surprise and I glanced back at
her.

“What's that in your hand, my dear?” She asked, her eyes aglow with curiosity.

I looked down at my letter to Joe and said simply, “A letter.”

She nodded, “Forgive me. My old eyes can be quite a hassle.”

“It's quite alright…” I trailed off, not knowing what to call her. At Gryffindor tower, we
called our portrait Fat Lady. Not a nice name, but she seemed to accept it with her shoulders held
high.

She sensed my hesitation and answered my silent question. “Marie.”

“Marie?” I asked, my first impression of her quickly proving to be more accurate than I had
originally thought. “As in Marie An—”

She shook her head. “No, not as in Marie Antoinette. I get that all the time with this hair and
outfit. My painter had painted her once before, though. He said she was his inspiration when
picking out the layout and clothing I was to wear for the rest of my existence.”

“Really?” I asked in surprise. “Does that mean a wizard pained her?”

“Not necessarily. Most portraits were, indeed, painted by artistes that possessed magical
abilities. But sometimes a portrait painted by a Muggle artist would gain the appreciation of a
wizard and be charmed and hung in a place like this—a place to hang for eternity, always listening
to others. I was lucky to be chosen to hang here. There are many kind people and portraits to keep
me company. Imagine my surprise when I realized I was amongst wizards and could come and go as I
pleased.”

“That's—I've never read about that before.” I said in a dazed voice, soaking up this new
information like a sponge.

“It's not widely known. Most people have better things to do than talk to portraits.” I gave
her an odd look and she quickly spoke up again. “Not to be insulting! I was only speaking the
truth. Most humans nowadays are too wrapped up in their daily business to pay any mind to us.”

I smiled, “I know what you mean.”

Marie nodded and let out a breath of relief. It was a few moments before she chose to speak up
again. “What exactly are you doing talking to a portrait? Don't you have a boyfriend or someone
to meet? Ohhh is that who you're writing too?”

I snorted, “Yeah right. I have better things to do than let boys get into my knickers.”

“Not all boys are like that, my dear. In my days here, I have come across many Head Boys who
were the epitome of a gentleman.”

“Well that chain stops here. Potter isn't in any way classified as a gentleman.”

She cocked a perfectly painted eyebrow and let her lips downturn into a small frown. “Oh. Well
if you say so, dear.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I'm just saying.”

“Yes, of course.”

I quickly remembered why I had left in the first place. “Well I must be on my way. It was nice
talking to you, Marie.”

“Same to you.”

I turned on my heel and took off down the hall at a swift pace. That was odd. I had never talked
to a portrait before. But somehow, Marie was more than a portrait. She had been a Muggle, from the
sounds of it, and a very observant one at that. I wonder if all of the portraits were like that?
The only one I could even remember having an extended conversation with was Sir Cadogan when he had
briefly taken over the Fat Lady's portrait third year, and that was because I had said the
wrong password and was wrongly accused of being the escaped convict Sirius Black. Honestly, do I
look like I could be a mass murderer in disguise? I think not. Luckily, Neville Longbottom came to
my rescue with his tiny paper filled with the daily (and sometimes hourly) passwords.

My trip to the Owlery was a short one. The drafty tower was, as always, filled with owls of
every shape, size, and color. I was familiar with most of the owls, as I wrote to my parents every
few weeks since I started school here. I looked around the smelly, windowless room and spotted a
blur of white feathers at the topmost corner of the perches. No wonder I had never noticed her here
before—it was almost as if she was hiding.

“Hedwig!” I called, relieved that I had unconsciously found her.

The bird turned to lock eyes with me and glided down to land on my shoulder. I giggled and
stroked her feathers fondly. “I missed you, too.” I said out of habit. At least it wasn't a
lie. I did miss her, even if I had seen her a few days before. This was the first time I had seen
her at Hogwarts and a weird sort or relief spread throughout me. Now that I've seen Hedwig, it
meant that this wasn't a dream. Joe Bloggs was real and *here* at Hogwarts. I let myself
grin widely as I attached my letter to her leg.

She craned her head to me as if asking, “Where's my food?”

I responded with a guilty smile. “Sorry, girl. I left them in my trunk. I'll bring them next
time, alright?”

She tilted her head back up at an angle, as if sticking her nose up at me and I resisted the
urge to laugh. This bird really was a piece of work.

I felt her claws detach from my shoulder as she took off through one of the windowless holes. I
watched he go, like I always did, in wonder. Whoever owned her must be one hell of a guy. Who else
would own such a beautiful, yet tame, owl? It's been said that pets always reflect their
master's personality. That thought alone was enough to add to the hope I had that when—I mean
*if*—I met Joe, he would be perfect.

Well enough of that. I felt my stomach let out a small gurgle that told me it was time to
eat.

I made my way down the stone steps and turned down the path that would lead me to the Great
Hall.

~*~

It had been two days and I still hadn't gotten a response back from Joe.

I'm usually patient, but this was really threatening to be harmful to my heath and, even
worse, my schoolwork. Most of my thoughts consisted of theories as to why he was taking so long. I
knew that the schedule for the letters was going to be different but *come on*. My grandmother
took less time to walk to the loo. Maybe I was expecting too much. He was just busy. Yeah,
busy.

I knew it was total bullshit, but I had to come up with some excuse before I had to force myself
to check into an insane asylum.

Seeing as it was Wednesday, I had plenty of things to distract myself with. Today was the first
Prefect's meeting I had fully planned. We were meeting in Professor McGonagall's classroom,
which she had kindly offered for us to use, before dinner. I had arrived early to set up and make
some last minute adjustments. Since I had only informed Potter of the time in which the others were
coming, he was nowhere to be found.

The students began filing in a good five minutes before the meeting started and I had to give
them props. It was nice to see that being prompt still hadn't died. But, of course, as the
clock struck six a group of Slytherins passed through the door and took seats near the back of the
room, some choosing to put their feet up on the tables. I knew better than to scorn them, so I just
shot them a disgusted look and turned around to get my notes. I grabbed them and looked around the
room for Potter—he wasn't there. Of course.

I tried my best to ignore my annoyance and began the meeting. “Good evening everyone. I trust
we've had a good few days back at school. Now tonight we're going to discuss—”

“You're not starting the meeting without me, are you?”

There, a good twenty seconds late, was Potter, leaning against the doorframe and tossing an
apple up and down in the air. I heard a few fifth year girls sigh at the sight of him. Oh honestly,
all he was doing was leaning up against a door—it wasn't like he was just in his boxers or
anything. The image of him Monday morning flashed quickly in my mind and I had to shake my head to
get it out.

“I didn't think so.”

Potter took my movement as a sign to take stance next to me and bite his apple in what the other
girls in the room thought was a sexy manor. Ugh.

I rolled my eyes a turned back to the Prefects. “Now that Potter has chosen to make an
appearance, we can formally begin.” Nobody bothered to point out I had full intent on stating the
meeting without him and I was grateful. Maturity; that's what more people in this school
needed. “I know that what's on most of your minds is the ball that was announced our first day
back—” There was a slight murmur amongst a select few of the students and I smiled knowingly. Well
what do you know? I wasn't alone. “And we, meaning Pot—Harry and I have been appointed to
planning it. Well I, for one, think that you all should have some say in it as well, so I am now
opening the floor to any ideas or suggestions. But before we discuss that, we have to get the
boring stuff out of the way.” A collective groan went off throughout the room and I sighed.

“There,” I pointed to the now closed doorway. “Is a posted list of patrol times. If you have any
problems with your assigned time, tell me and I'll see what I can do. Anything else you would
like to add, Harry?”

He seemed startled that I addressed him. “N-no. Nope. You've pretty much covered
everything.”

I smiled and turned back the others. “Alright, *now* we can talk about the ball.” The air
seemed to get thinner somehow as I pressed on. “The first thing we need to sort out is a theme. Any
ideas?”

A dozen hands went up and I resisted the urge to laugh. It's a good thing they liked this
whole ball idea more than I did. I wasn't one for parties in general. The only reason I had a
positive outlook on this was because of Joe.

I picked a girl at the front of the room with silky, strawberry blonde hair and earrings as big
as Bludgers. No joke. “I actually have a question…” She said hesitantly. I nodded for her to go on.
“Well, if we're not participants of the pen-pal system, do we still have to plan it?”

Good question. “My idea was that if we all helped out, I could convince Professor McGonagall to
let you, meaning Prefects only, who weren't a part of the system to go to the ball and help out
with drinks, music, and such.”

The girl nodded. “So will there be committees that we can get into to make this easier?”

“My thoughts exactly Miss…”

“Elliott. Hayley Elliott.”

“You read my mind, Hayley. After we determine a theme, we'll sign up for committees in
charge of music, catering, decorations, and so on.”

Hayley turned to a blonde girl next to her and they started whispering excitedly to each other.
I looked around for another raised hand and picked a boy in the middle of the room with sandy brown
hair and square brown glasses.

“For the themes, can we all pick something that's not too girly?”

Everyone, including me, let out a chuckle. “That's the point, Mr.…”

“Sid.”

“Sid. It's crucial we pick something we can all agree on. In this room we have
representatives of every house and year from fifth up. I think that accounts for most of the
student population, so if we can all come up with a nice, clean theme, I'm sure that it'll
work itself out.”

A girl, a fifth year by the looks of it, with curly chocolate hair and bangs that cuffed her
forehead, raised her hand up hesitantly. I pointed to her and she spoke softly. “How about A Walk
in the Clouds? Like up in the sky. We could decorate the Great Hall in pale blue and white and have
a charm on the floor and walls to make it look like we're up in the sky.”

I was impressed. Waving my wand, I conjured my quill, paper, and clipboard that I had set on
Professor McGonagall's desk and began writing down her idea. I didn't have time to thank
her for her idea when another voice spoke up.

“How about Under the Black Lake? We could ask the Mermaids to come and sing.”

“NO!” Potter and I shouted at the same time.

I looked over at him to see him looking at me with wide eyes. “It's a good idea… just no
Mermaids, alright? They are *dreadful* singers. Trust me.”

I faintly remember him opening the egg he had collected from the first task of the Triwizard
Tournament fourth year. The screeching, nails-against-chalkboard sound had left me shivering for a
week. I read that they sounded much, well, *better* underwater in their natural habitat. I had
been unconscious the only time I was in the Black Lake during the second task when Victor saved me.
I vowed never to return after I found questionable green weed in my hair after resurfacing. I
shivered and wrote down the girl's (at least, I think it was a girl) idea, underlining and
bolding **NO MERMAIDS!**

A few more ideas, and many votes, later, we were down to: Under the Black Lake (save the
screeching mermaids), Flying Through the Sky on a Broomstick (combining the Walk in the Clouds idea
and a sixth-year boy's idea of a Quidditch theme), A Night in the Astronomy Tower (it earned a
few giggles, but I liked the promise of a starry night sky), and A Look Into a Pensive: The
Hogwarts Golden Age. All fantastic ideas that we still had to choose from in—I looked at the
clock—five minutes.

I rolled the chalkboard next to me and wrote down the themes in columns, choosing the timeless
“Head's down and vote while I tally them up on the board” approach. I instructed everyone to
put their heads down and close their eyes, only putting up their hands and voting for one theme. I
recited the themes and tallied the votes, including my own, and smiled at the end result. Erasing
the board and writing the winning theme, I turned it around and told everyone to pick up their
heads while I announced the winner. But before I could do so, a voice spoke up from beside me.

“Actually—I have another idea.”

I turned to see Potter looking meekly at me with an unreadable look in his eyes. I motioned for
him to elaborate and he turned to the rest of the room. “How about a Masquerade?”

The room erupted in a buzz of excited voices.

I snorted and he turned to glare at me. “What's so funny?” he asked in annoyance.

“Well it's just… it's so *tacky*.” He narrowed his eyes and I continued. “These
people have been in anonymity for the entire summer. Why continue that? They should all be out in
the open. No masks, no need to hide anymore.”

“That's the point! Some people want to remain anonymous.”

“And why on Earth would they want to do that?”

“Because they're probably ashamed of themselves, that's why. Imagine talking to someone
in anonymity, making a connection, and then *meeting* them. What if they're disappointed?
What if they change their opinion of you after seeing who you really are?”

“That's bollocks.” I said, temporarily forgetting that just two days ago, I was thinking the
exact same thing. “If you genuinely like the person, it shouldn't matter who they are or what
they look like. All that should matter is that after all this time, hiding behind paper and quills,
you have the chance to break free and show yourself. If they don't like you—that's their
problem.”

Oh Merlin, I sounded like Sue. Stupid Potter and his ability to get me all riled up.

“It's not what they'll think; it's what they'll do!”

“What they'll do…” I repeated slowly. “I don't imagine that as soon as they find out who
the other is, they'll start wailing on each other.”

“No that's not what I meant—”

“Oh really? Then please, elaborate for me.”

“I would if you would give me two seconds to get my point across.”

“Is that all it takes for you to talk? Wow, I actually *over*estimated you for once. Alert
the Daily Prophet!”

He narrowed his eyes. “Tell me honestly, do you not like the idea because it's not a good
one or because *I* said it?”

“Honestly.” He nodded. “Both.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“That's *exactly* what you asked!” I said in exasperation, throwing my hand up in the
air.

“No it wasn't! I asked a `this or that' question. You, among everyone else here, should
know that you can't say this *and* that. It defeats the purpose.”

“Since when did you get so articulate?” I asked in a dry voice.

“If you took a minute to listen to what I had to say, you would realize I'm not made up of
just hot air.”

“Could've fooled me…”

“*What* is your problem? Why do you insist on treating me like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like scum!”

“Because that's what you are. Low-life *scum* that belongs atop the Giant Squid's
natural habitat! But if you're scum then what is everyone else? The lake? Everyone worships the
ground you walk on. Yeah, okay, you defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time. That's
great, really. But that doesn't give you the right to push people out of your life that were
trying to help you.”

“Help me? What are you talking about?”

“You know *exactly* what I'm talking about!”

“No, I don't. Please, explain.”

I almost believed him. Almost. “Why should I? This proves my point. You can't even remember
how I—”

“*MISS GRANGER, MISTER POTTER!*”

I turned to see whose shrill voice interrupted me. But I already knew who it was before even
taking the time to slowly address her. “Professor McGonagall.”

She pointed to me and Potter. “You and *you*—my office—*now**.* The rest of you,
go on to the Great Hall. This meeting is now adjourned until your meeting next week.”

It wasn't a suggestion. The horrified students scrambled for the exit and quickly skimmed
the patrol times I had posted. I watched them go with sad eyes and walked with Professor McGonagall
and Potter to her office.

The room was a tribute to Gryffindor. Her desk was placed by the furthest wall and had a series
of trinkets, papers, and books lying atop it. There was a single scarlet lamp on the right side and
a chair with a high back in the same shade. Along her walls were portraits of famous Wizard writers
and—to my surprise—Quidditch players. There was a large bookcase (of course) on the right wall and
what looked to be a globe in a near corner. The whole place had a warm glow to it and almost made
me forget that I was in trouble. *Big* trouble.

“Sit.” She ordered.

Me and Potter complied without speaking and sat down as she conjured two wooden chairs for us to
sit on. She looked at us pointedly for about a minute. I wanted to speak up, cough, do
*something*. But I feared that she might transfigure my head into a fishbowl—or worse, strip
me of my Head Girl title.

“Would either of you care to explain yourselves?” She asked sternly, her lips thin with
distaste. I remained silent and looked at Potter, who was as pale as Nearly Headless Nick. Was he
really *that* afraid of her? I looked back at the professor. With the looks she was shooting
at us, I would be too if I were him.

“Alright,” She chipped, leaning forward in her chair and looking back and forth between the two
of us. “Seeing as you have currently lost the ability to speak, let me try to sum it up for you. I
come to my classroom to see two of my start students, the two *Heads* in fact, engaged a
heated argument, voices raised to the point of screaming, and all the while, showing your fellow
students how to not be a proper role model. One girl was as pale as you are now, Potter.”

Some color came to his face as he shrunk down in his seat. Still, McGonagall continued. “What in
Merlin's name could be so important that the two of you saw fit to debate heatedly in the
presence of pupils who look up to you. Who aspire to be like you. Go on, tell me.”

I heard Potter gulp dramatically like some actors do in films when they are too scared to do
anything else. I gathered all of the courage I had left in me and spoke up in what I hoped was a
confidant tone. “We—we were debating on what theme the upcoming ball should be, professor.”

It wasn't a lie. That *was* how it started out.

But apparently, it wasn't good enough. “I think we all know it was a bit more than that,
Miss Granger. In all my years of teaching I have never met a student that passionate about ball
themes.” I swallowed a laugh. Something about the way she said it made me believe it was meant as a
joke. But, though I never chose to admit it, I could be wrong. “But I *have* come across two
students that acted the same way you two do once before.” My curiosity peaked and I straightened up
in my seat, eager to listen. In the corner of my eye, I could see Potter's skin return to a
ghostly pale shade and I made a point to note that for later.

“Throughout their years here, they always found a way to get into arguments with each other. The
girl, one of the brightest of her age and a very gifted student; the boy, well, he wasn't an
angel but harmless as a garden gnome. They were two of my best students *and* Head Boy and
Girl.” I gulped much like Potter had done a few moments ago. “I sat them down in my office after a
very public, very *loud* argument had broken out between them, and informed them that if they
did not stop their childish arguing, their positions would be stripped and it would go on their
permanent records. Can you guess what happened after that, Mr. Potter?”

I turned and saw him nodding, looking at the floor. I shifted my gaze between him and McGonagall
in confusion and wanted more than anything to know what exactly happened to the former Heads. I
opened my mouth to ask, but McGonagall put up a hand, her face in a knowing contort. I shut my
mouth and allowed her to speak. “Now, I'm going to say the same thing to you two as I did them.
Clean up the way you act around each other and you can keep your positions and we can look past
this whole ordeal. If not, I will take your positions away and make sure to record this on your
transcripts. Are we clear?”

“Yes, professor.” Potter and I chorused.

She nodded stiffly. “Good. Now, head off to your dormitory. I'm afraid you've missed the
rest of dinner.”

I nodded and left the room with my shoulders hung limp. I wasn't hungry anyway. The threat
of my position being taken away was enough to make my stomach feel like someone took out my
stomach, shook up its contents, and put it back all fizzy and flabby. It was all very graphic.

I arrived at the portrait and spoke the password to Marie. She looked down at me with pity but
didn't ask any questions, which I appreciated. I slumped into the couch and rested my head in
my hands, willing the upcoming headache I knew would happen to go away.

“So what now?”

His voice scarred me and it took a moment before I turned to see him sitting on the other side
of the couch, looking at me numbly. I shrugged my shoulders, “The only thing we can do.”

“And what's that?”

I licked my lips that had become chapped with all of the shallow breaths I had been letting
escape. “Make peace.”

I expected him to throw a fit, yell, tell me it was a stupid idea, but he did none. Instead, he
nodded slowly, “Alright.”

“Easier said than, though, right?”

“I'll stop if you will. Simple as that.”

“Is it really that simple?” I asked darkly.

“Well yeah. As long as we keep in consensual—you pull your weight, and so do I. Contrary to
popular belief, I actually enjoy being Head Boy.”

“Really?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“At least we're on the same page.” I mused.

“That's step one.”

I chuckled.

“Step two.”

“And what's that?”

“I made you laugh.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Exactly how many steps are there?”

“Too many.”

Instead of making a smart comment I turned serious for a minute. “I'm not going to be your
friend, I hope you realize this.”

He nodded. “I don't expect you to be. You seem to hate me too much to even fathom friendship
with me.”

It was like he read my mind. I awkwardly twiddled my thumbs, “This is a simple negotiation. No
hugs, no inside jokes—just acting civil.”

“I'll behave if you do.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked slightly offended.

“Nothing.” He said coldly.

There was a long pause and I remembered my mental note. He was still in the same spot and I
quickly asked before he left. “Who was McGonagall talking about, by the way?”

He stiffened and looked over at me. “No idea.”

“You're a horrible liar.”

He shrugged and got up from the couch, heading up the stairs. “Hey!” I called after him. He
ignored me and, unless I was imagining things, picked up pace. I sunk back into the couch as my jaw
locked. I would find out. Eventually.

As I sat there in silence, I let the cold sense of reality take a hold of me. Did I just make
peace with Claudius? Arguably, the most hated of all literary characters written by William
Shakespeare?

Only I would make that connection at a time like this. Next thing I knew, I was going to look
for poison in my pumpkin juice and accuse him of being a phony in front of the royal family—I mean
the professors. Shit.

Why does life have to get so damn complicated every time Potter enters the equation?

-->



9. First Names, Expensive Gifts, and Unexpectied Slips (Happy B
---------------------------------------------------------------



**A/N: Oh no, Winter Break is over!! :[ Well, it was nice while it lasted. Now it's back to
school and hello to stress. Lovely. I do have a****n** **announcement** **to make,
however, before I go wallow in my self pity. I have a** **Tumblr account! Don't know what
Tumblr is? Yeah, neither do I for the most part. But it's basically a blogging site where
I'll be posting fanfiction excerpts—that means chapter previews a good few days before they
premiere on the site! Wohoo!! You know you want to check it out. Here is the link:**
**http://xshar.tumblr.com/** **And for those who check out my website: Yes, I will still be
updating it, but not as frequently as my new Tumblr. So go on and check it out after reading and
say hello. I'll meet you there.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine, he's Hermione's.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**First Names, Expensive Gifts, and Unexpec****ted Slips (Happy Birthday to Me)**

I rolled over on my side to check the charmed alarm clock I had set next to my bed. In reality,
it was a miniature grandfather clock I had found on the mantle, but had since been charmed to act
as an alarm after I had grown tired of using my wand to poke me awake. The dull lighting charm I
had placed on the face revealed the time to be three in the morning. I groaned and turned on my
back, my eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness of my room.

Happy Birthday to me.

Yes, today was September 19. I was now officially eighteen years old. Not that anyone cared,
really. I suppose if I had friends, they would wake me up with breakfast in bed or something easily
as cheesy. But right now, I would take cheesy over nothing. The only people who even know it's
my birthday are my parents and Sue. I knew my mum would bake some sort of pastry attached to a
sappy letter that said she and dad both loved me and couldn't believe how old I was. Sue would
get me a piece of jewelry that I would wear for the day to clear my conscience, and then promptly
throw in my trunk. But I suppose I would take their gifts with a happy heart this year. It was
better than when I was back at home and my extended family *insisted* on coming over and
having a dinner party filled with champagne and presents they had picked up a half hour before
arriving. But it wasn't all bad. One year, my Aunt Midge had gotten me a book—granted, it was
the Kama Sutra and my dad had literally snatched it out of my nine-year-old hands before I could
open it. The only reason I knew what it had been was because my mum had taken pity on me a few
years after when we had “the talk”.

Oh what fond memories I had on this glorious day. It was a wonder I wasn't scarred for life.
Thankfully, here at Hogwarts, I had other things to busy myself with. Most years, my birthday had
fallen on a school day rather than the weekend, so I commonly forgot that I was a year older. It
wasn't until the post came that I remembered. Like so many others, it took me a good month to
refer to myself as a year older, since the change is pretty dramatic as you reach the higher levels
of maturity. Eighteen is a landmark, pretty much. In the Wizarding World, seventeen is when you are
of age, but now I was old enough in the Muggle world as well to be referred to as an adult.
Although I did plan to spend the rest of my life in the Wizarding community, I wanted to keep true
to Muggle customs as best as I could. When I had kids, I planned to enroll them in primary school
and educate them in both Wizard and Muggle traditions.

Look at me, thinking about children. I may be an adult, but I'm not that old. I planned on
waiting a while before having kids. That's part of the reason I don't bother with boys. If
I did put myself out there, I would ultimately fall fate to the lure of sex and become impregnated.
Don't laugh! It *would* come true, seeing as how I was in despite need of a stress
reliever that didn't involve work. Sex, as I have read, makes you feel as if it's the only
thing in the world until it's over. Your mind goes blank, your body gets sweaty, and your
senses get heightened. It was all very exciting, not to mention incredibly tempting. I may be all
books and cleverness, but that doesn't mean I don't have needs. And I don't count those
three snogging sessions I had with Victor the height of my sexual awareness.

I sighed and cleared my head. The more I thought about it, the more I considered the option. The
last thing I needed was to be thinking about sex on my birthday. It would only get me in a foul
mood.

Deciding sleep was no longer an option, I opted to get ready for the day. It was better than
laying in bed and feeling sorry for myself, which was ultimately what my line of thought would have
lead up to. So, fully awake and adjusted to the darkness, I padded out of my room and down the hall
to the bathroom.

As I emerged a good twenty minutes later, I gingerly got dressed and headed down to the common
room to get some reading done. I was already fully caught up in all of my classes, but it never
hurt to be over prepared. Besides, I needed an excuse to get out of my room and find a distraction
before I purchased a copy of *Witch Weekly* next Hogsmeade trip for the sex advice.

I pulled out a random book from my bag and picked up where I had marked. As I started reading, I
realized I had grabbed *Pride & Prejudice* on accident. I had forgotten I packed that;
much less loaded it into my book bag. Shrugging to myself, I continued to read my favorite novel. I
might as well take a break from studying—it *was* my special day, after all. Besides, the
unresolved sexual tension of Elizabeth and Darcy would make for a nice break from my nonexistent
love life.

I was just getting to the momentous climax when I heard movement behind me. Not wanting another
repeat of the last time I ran into Potter in the wee hours of the morning, I quietly asked who was
there. I know it's not the smartest way to inquire if he's decent, but it was the first
thing that came to mind.

“I'm not naked, if that's what you mean.” He answered, his voice laced with cockiness. I
could see his smirk, though my back was still turned to him.

“Well it's not my fault I don't want to see you practically naked again so early in the
morning.”

He snorted. “You didn't seem so opposed to it last time. What was it you said…? Ah, yes. My
rippling pectorals were much to your satisfaction.”

I growled deeply as I shut my book. Turning around, I saw he was fully dressed (*thank
Merlin*) and was looking at me as though expecting me to erupt like an active volcano. But,
unlike him, I was fully abiding by our treaty of sorts and just smiled. “I never said they were or
were not to my satisfaction.”

“Yes, but your face said it all.”

“And what did my face say, exactly?”

His voice became several octaves higher. “Oh Harry, your muscles are so *trim*. Come over
here and let me feel them so I can—”

“I most certainly never said that!” I interrupted, not wanting to know what he thought I was
going to do. I mean *wasn't* going to do.

“Of course you didn't, your face did.”

“No normal person can get a reaction that specific from a person's face.” I said
smartly.

“I'm very intuitive about these things.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What am I thinking right now then?” I asked simply. “What does my face say?”

He studied me for a moment, inching closer until he was a foot away. I stood my ground, trying
my best to keep my facial expression unchanged to give him a fair chance, even though his mere
presence so close to me made me feel uncomfortable. *Very* uncomfortable. It made me so
uncomfortable, in fact, that I started trembling a bit. He cocked his head to the side in a way
that I knew he was actually trying to read me. Whoa, he was actually for real. Go figure.

He licked his lips and looked into my eyes deeply. “You're scared.”

I looked at him oddly. “I am not.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes you are.”

“A-and what am I scared of?” I didn't mean to stutter. In all honesty, I have no clue what
made me do it to begin it.

“I'm not a mind-reader, Hermione.” He said matter-of-factly, quickly followed by, “Unless
you want me to be.”

I ignored his last comment, choosing to focus on the unfamiliar word that just came out of his
mouth. “You just called me Hermione.”

There was a small pause before he answered. “Yes I did. I think we should be able to call each
other by our first names now that we have a peace treaty going.”

The statement was almost foreign to me. Me calling Potter by his first name? Why, I hadn't
done that in years! Not counting the times I had to be civil to him in public, of course. “Oh, umm…
I—I hadn't thought about that.”

“No I suppose not.” He said with a chuckle. “But the question is will you do it?”

“Call you by your first name?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Call me Harry.” He continued to stare at me for a moment before making a weird
gesture with his hands. “Well go on.”

“Oh.” I whispered quietly. “Okay. Umm… H-Harry, what am I scared of?”

“Like you mean it.” He said, verbally pushing me to my limits.

I glowered at him. He seemed very adamant about me saying his name for some reason. It was just
a name, right? What sort of significance does a name have? Why would he keep pushing me for two
syllables? All good questions that needed their answers. But apparently, the only way to find out
was to abide by his wishes.

I sucked in a breath. “Harry, what am I scared of?”

He seemed to be satisfied with my second try and answered in a monotone. “Me.”

“What?!” I exclaimed. He seemed to be taken aback at my response as he flinched at my change in
tone. “Why on Earth would I be scared of you?”

“I dunno, you tell me.”

I scoffed and threw my book in my bag before slinging it over my shoulder. Rushing past him, I
ignored his persistent calls and made my way out of the common room in a huff. How dare he? As if I
could ever be scared of *Potter*. It was completely ridiculous! The most harmful thing he has
ever done was speak. End of story. To even suggest that I would be scared of him in the least was
completely outrageous. He obviously needs to work on his face-reading skills if that was his
conclusion. Honestly!

In my fit of annoyance and rage, I hadn't been paying attention to where I was going.
Apparently my feet had unconsciously led me to the Great Hall. What a convenience. I walked through
the open double doors and noticed that there were a few people scattered about already eating. I
looked at the clock quickly and saw that I had been reading for a good four and a half hours. No
wonder Potter had already been dressed and, more importantly, why I had already reached the climax
of my book.

I knew that the post would arrive soon, so I made a point to save some room for the treats I
knew would eventually come even though my hungry stomach protested greatly. *The house elves have
really outdone themselves*, I noted resentfully. Even though my S.P.E.W. movement was anything
but successful, that didn't mean I changed my views on their rights. Unfortunately for me,
their cooking was my only means of getting food (a fact I had learned while going on strike a few
years previous) and I didn't want to go on and kill myself. I had too much to work for.

So instead of stuffing my face as I so wanted, I forced myself to grab only a piece of toast and
marmalade. It didn't help that the spread was extra flavorful this morning. But no, I had to
force myself to eat less. I didn't want my mum's hard work to go to waste. Plus, if I ate a
full breakfast plus the pastry, I would most likely vomit all over Sue's lovely gift and she
would murder me. No joke. She was so close to carrying out the threat last year that I had to lock
myself in a cupboard and wait an hour for her to calm herself. And you think you have problems…

I felt a pair of eyes on me as I took my last bite of toast. Half expecting to find the culprit,
I turned and saw Potter quickly avert his eyes back to his breakfast. Smooth. Stare at me for a few
seconds and continue on your merry way—it's the most I'll ever allow you.

I was saved from further rambling by the sound of incoming owls with the morning post. I fumbled
to clear the rest of my plate and pumpkin juice and looked up at the surplus of owls soaring down
towards us. There were quite a lot today, but I didn't mind. Two of those owls were for me and
held packages that I would tear open with vigor and devour the contents. Well, one of them.

Right on time, a barn owl swooped down and dropped a package wrapped in blue, shiny paper and
not even ten seconds later, while my eyes were focused on the first gift, another wrapped in pink
sparkles landed beside it. I could tell which was from whom, so I opened the blue one first,
knowing it was from my parents, as they always wrap their presents in blue. That was part of the
reason I stopped believing in Santa Claus. Every one of my presents was a different shade and
pattern of blue—it didn't take a child prodigy to put the pieces together, never minding the
fact that I was quite sharp for my age, if I do say so myself.

Tearing open the wrappings enthusiastically and opening the cardboard box, I felt my stomach
lurch. There, in a clear plastic container, was a miniature cake. It was covered in white,
buttercream frosting trimmed with green flowers and stars. Tiny sprinkles were surrounding the
message *Happy Birthday, Hermione**,* which was written in yellow icing. It looked
heavenly and I knew my mother had outdone herself once again. Taking the cake out of the square
box, I found a letter at the bottom with my name in neat scrawl. I tore it open just as eagerly as
the wrappings and skimmed my mum's birthday wishes. It was longer than the others I had
received in past years. I wondered vaguely what she could ramble on about from one and a half pages
as I read it:

*My Dearest Hermione,*

*My how you've grown! It seems only yesterday your father and I were taking you home from
the hospital. You were such a beautiful baby with your newborn blue eyes and tuft of brown hair. As
we watched you grow, and your eye color develop to a gorgeous chocolate brown, we grew so attached
that it was very difficult for us to let you go off to Hogwarts. Did I ever tell you that your
father almost wouldn't allow you to come back? No, I suppose not. You were too excited to pay
attention to anything else, bless your soul. It took some convincing, but I finally got him to
allow you to go away, promising that you would be happiest whilst you were there. You would make
friends, learn all about this new world we as mere humans could not comprehend, and grow to be a
wonderful Witch and person. Though you never mention much of your fellow students in your letters,
I trust that since you have no complaints, things can't be horrible in the social department.
In fact, the last time I ever recall you mentioning another Wizard was in your first year. I think
his name was Harry. Yes, Harry. What ever happened to that boy, hmm?*

*School business aside, I just want to express how proud your father and I are of you.
Eighteen is a huge landmark and you should be very proud of the person you have become. You were
always such a kind-hearted girl, and now that you are officially becoming a woman, I trust that you
hang onto that trait. Heaven knows in our family, it's hard to come by.* *As you graduate
from Hogwarts and emerge in the Wizarding community looking for a job and beginning your new life,
I want you to remember that your father and I will always be here with you every step you take.
Should you feel the need to talk to someone, I will always be here. Your father has never been one
for extended conversations, the poor old man. He's still convinced you're not graduating
until you're thirty. Wait until this June when he realizes out little Hermione is all grown up.
I promise you I'll take plenty of photos.*

*Although this letter is considerably longer than any of the quick “Happy Birthday” ones I
have sent you before, I want you to stay with me. I know that as your parents, we haven't been
around much the past few years whilst you were home. I don't want you to think that it's
because of you. Running a practice is excruciating work and takes a great deal of hours to run
properly. I know that it's no excuse to practically abandon you in your adolescence, and
you've been a real trooper by not complaining once, but you have a right to be upset. Now that
you're leaving and will see us even less, I suppose it's time to properly apologize. We
both love you so much, Hermione, and I hope you know that. No matter where you are, no matter what
choices you choose to make, we will always support you. Just don't come home after five years
of no visits and introduce us to a husband a**nd two toddlers, alright.* *I don't
think my heart could handle it.*

*I wish you all the love in the world on your special day**,* *
Mum*

Her letter left me practically in tears. I wasn't surprised no one had come over to ask
what's wrong, seeing as my mum's inaccurate prediction of my social life was now coming
into play. Speaking of which, I had the urge to tear up the letter after only reading for thirty
seconds. I know that she is uninformed about the incident later in my first year that caused me to
stop writing about Potter and his accomplishments. I had only told her the gist of what went down
in the girl's bathroom that one Halloween night—how I had been upset and as I came out to go to
the feast, I saw a giant troll looking down at me as if I were that night's main dish. And, of
course, how two boys came trumpeting in to my rescue and saved my life. She knew nothing about what
transpired after the troll fell unconscious to the ground. I couldn't blame her. I didn't
want to remember it.

I averted my eyes to Sue's gift and opened it more carefully than the last. I didn't
want to damage whatever she chose to purchase for me this year. There was a black velvet box about
three inches thick adorned with a single clear jewel clasp in the front. I held it in awe, the
softness of the material sinking into my fingertips as I placed it carefully on the hardwood table.
It looked like the epitome of luxury the way it was simply *there*. I know it sounds stupid,
but if you had never received a gift of this expense in your life, you would be overwhelmed as
well. I leaned in and took a deep intake of breath. Oh Gods, it even *smelled* expensive. I
didn't even want to open it. The fact that what may lay inside would be a million times more
shocking was enough to make me feel light-headed. Even if it was jewelry, it was damn expensive
jewelry that I planned on treasuring for a long time to come.

I unclasped the jewel latch and had to bite my lip from screaming. It wasn't jewelry at all!
It was something far more extravagant, far more amazing, and far more perfect.

It was a stationary kit lined in black silk.

In the middle was a notepad filled with new parchment that looked so delicate, I feared that
with one use it would break as if made of tissue. Off to the right lay three freshly sharpened
quills in an emerald green shade that struck me as a very appealing color that never really clicked
with me until now. Above the quills was a crystal inkpot already filled with dark ebony ink and
beside it, four tiny vials of refills. To the far left was a gold seal stamp that, as I picked it
up to examine it, was encrusted with a single rose. Magical wax candles were beneath it, one red,
one green, and one royal blue. And finally, tucked in the bottom left corner, was a magical eraser,
one that could undo the effects of ink spotlessly.

It was the single most amazing gift I had ever received. As I made to shut it from peering eyes,
I saw a piece of paper tucked into a seemingly hidden pocket that lined the inner top half. I
smiled as I grabbed the note and closed the box. Unfolding the parchment, I recognized Sue's
long and regal handwriting.

*Hermione,*

*First off,* *I wish you a Happy 18th Birthday. The gift was inspired by your summer
romance with Joe Bloggs**, if you didn't figure that out already. And before you even
think of refuting that, please note that any time a male takes the time to write down his feelings
for you as you do him constitutes as a romance. But remember; don't do anything I wouldn't
do! And try to write more often, please. The shop is a true bore without you to entertain
me.*

*Use it well**,* *
Sue*

The shortness was a nice relief, even though her motives were enough to make me blush. I had
never really thought about Joe and I's letters as love notes before. We talked about
everything, yes, but the only inkling of hidden feelings was the *Love* at the bottom of the
latest letters. Could it be true? Could Joe and I be more than just confidants now? It's silly,
really. But somewhere deep in my stomach I felt that it was right. He was sweet, funny, charming,
and it would be hard not to fall in love with him.

Wait, fall in love?

Hold on a second, back up, rewind the last few seconds. Could I possibly love Joe Bloggs? I only
knew the guy through *letters*, for Merlin's sake! Can you really fall in love with
someone through letters? Especially if you hadn't known what the word “friend” mean a few
months ago? Merlin, I had to lie down. Wait, I was already sitting. Damnit, what is Sue doing to
me?!

I grabbed the gifts in a flurry and stuffed the letters in my book bag. I walked out of the
Great Hall in a rush, ignoring the many eyes I felt on my back. They could think I was crazy, I
really couldn't care less. I needed to get these presents to my room before school started so I
could focus on my schoolwork for a change. I would have more time to dwell on this later when
lessons were over.

~*~

Now in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I was a little more relaxed than I had been a few hours
previously. The only thing on my mind was the notes we were copying from the blackboard up front.
It was mostly review about defense spells and how if you cast one wandlessly, you must keep your
hand parallel to the floor until you want the shield to fall.

“*Psst*.”

“Not now, Potter.” I said distractedly, now copying a diagram of proper hand motions compared to
non-proper ones.

“It's Harry.” He said calmly.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, *Harry*. Be quiet so I can finish copying these notes.”

He remained silent and I was convinced I had made my point. Thank Merlin this was my last class
of the day today. I could curl up with my Charms coursework and forget about him for a few
hours.

“Is it really your birthday today?”

I stiffened for a moment and turned slowly to look at him. He was gazing at me with a peculiar
look on his face, awaiting my answer. “So what if it is? Why do you care?”

An unreadable look passed over his features. “Oh, well. I just… erm… wanted to wish you a Happy
Birthday, then. I guess.”

“Oh.” I said quietly, feeling very surprised at his motive. “Well thank you, Pot—Harry.”

He smiled. “You're welcome.”

I held back a smile in return and turned back to my notes. That was odd. He must have noticed me
opening my gifts for once. I dunno why he would choose now to bring it up, seeing as it was the end
of the day and he had practically seen me every minute of class, including lunch.

It hit me a few second later. This was the only class he *could* ask. We sat next to each
other, far from his groupies eyes. The warmness I felt for him soon melted away as I pressed my
quill deeper into my parchment. I knew it had always been like this, but that didn't stop from
me getting worked up about it. I felt angry tears well up in my eyes as I tried my best to finish
my notes before class ended.

“Hermione are you o—”

The bell rang, interrupting him, as I shoved my supplies quickly into my bag, averting my eyes
from his. The last thing I needed was to get into an argument with him about his groupies again.
Merlin knows we had gone down that road plenty of times.

I was the first out the door and took that to my advantage as I quickened my route to the
Head's dorm. I reached it in no time, only falling down a record three times, and said the
password out-of breath. Marie looked at me oddly, but said nothing. I really needed to thank her
one day for being the only one at Hogwarts not getting on my nerves.

I stepped up into the portrait hole and crossed the short distance to the stone steps that lead
up to my bedroom. As I reached it, I threw my bag on my bed and collapsed onto the comforter beside
it. A single tear ran down my cheek and I wiped it away before thinking anything else. I needed to
pull myself together. I can't let stuff like this get to me anymore. I need to forget about it
and move on. Forget the one moment I thought Potter was being nice to me, only to find out it was a
faux pas. Yeah, I could do that. Things would go back to normal and I would go back to hating him
without argument.

A pecking on my window startled me from my mental state. I craned my neck to see Hedwig hovering
close to the glass and swiftly moved to let her in. I ducked as she flew above me and settled on my
favorite chair, dropping something into the cushion. I smiled as I reached into my trunk to fetch
her treat. I had asked my mum to pick some up from Diagon Alley a week previous after Hedwig got
particularly testy when I gave her some of my cranberry muffin. They were the pumpkin flavor, which
I believed were her favorite, seeing as she gobbled them down as if they were the last thing she
would ever eat. She didn't disappoint as I fed her the treat and watched her swallow it
whole.

I circled the chair and saw two things lying on the seat; a letter and a box. Feeling thoroughly
confused, I picked up the letter first and opened it hastily.

*Dear Anonymous,*

*Happy Birthday!* *I w**anted to wait until after lessons to give you your gift to
keep up the mystery of our relationship. Watching Hedwig making her way to you in the middle of the
Great Hall would be a huge giveaway, and I'm sure you'll agree. B**ut b**efore
you read the rest of this letter, I want you to open your gift.*

I picked up the simply wrapped present. It was a red box wrapped in white ribbon that was tied
in a perfect bow at the top. I pulled a loose stand and watched the ribbon unravel. Taking off the
top of the box and moving around the tissue paper I found a long, silk container. I opened it and
felt my breath leave me in a rush. It was a red rose crafted out crystal and diamonds—*real*
diamonds, by the look of them. I gently picked it up and let it rest delicately in my hands. The
petals were intricately layered in a half-open, half-closed manor and I let my fingers run over
them, careful not to smear my fingerprints on the crystal. As I let my skin touch the smooth
surface, I felt the petals begin to stir and instantly pulled back as I watched the bud bloom into
a full, matured rose. It was a beautiful sight. I saw a single ruby in the middle glisten as I
turned it in my hand by the green stem. Four green diamonds shaped like leaves appeared to surround
the petals and I felt a wide grin make its way across my face.

I took the time to admire its fairness before setting it back down in the case. I still had the
rest of the letter to read, after all.

*Now that you've seen your present and most likely fainted, I want the chance to explain
myself. I was walking in Diagon Alley this summer and came upon a shop that sold magical crystal
figurines. The display caught my eye with all the shiny objects (I'm a sucker for that stuff,
but don't tell anyone) and I entered without a notion to purchase anything. But as I came
across the crystal rose that is now in your possession, I thought of you. Even though we still have
yet to meet, your inner beauty was enough to relate you to a crystal rose. Quite an accomplishment,
if you ask me. I don't want you to feel guilty that I spent so much on your gift. It was well
worth it. All I ask is that you keep it close to your heart. Because, I confess, you already have a
place in mine. I hope that this rose is a constant reminder of how much you mean to me.*

*Love,
Joe Bloggs*

I felt my eyes well up again as I looked back at the gift. What was up with people today and
making me cry?

Looking over at the other gifts on my bed, I saw my cake and summoned it with a wave of my wand.
I didn't want to go down to supper tonight. And with this homemade gateau, I had no need to. I
removed the plastic covering and unlatched the fork from where my mother had taped it on the side.
I took one large hunk of cake and tasted the delicious baked yellow batter mixed with buttercream
icing. I rolled my head back and moaned, seeing Joe's gift once more in my line of vision. I
set my cake down and picked it back up, holding it up the light.

The glow shined through the crystal and diamond molding and in that moment I realized something.
And, funnily enough, I had no doubt in my mind to contradict myself.

Yes, you could fall in love with someone through letters.

-->



10. Superstitions Lead to Paranoia. I Hate Paranoia.
----------------------------------------------------



**A/N:** **Wow you guys, you've totally filled me with a billion new ideas! Seriously,
your reviews of predictions and what you want to happen help me a lot. The whole rose-to-necklace
thing was genius, to those who suggested it! I actually used it in this chapter, so that shows you
that your reviews really help me a lot. I would also like to take the time to open the floor to
song suggestions for the soundtrack to this fic. I've done a soundtrack to every one of my
novels and this is no different. I usually have one hell of a time picking out songs that fit
scenes or the plotline so I would like for you guys to help me up. You can tell me in a review or
e-mail me. The download will be up on my website when it's finished—so the quicker we find
songs, the quicker it'll be up.**

**Disclaimer: HP=JKR, HP&HG=JKR being a moron and not knowing true romance when she writes
it.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Superstitions Lead To Paranoia. I Hate Paranoia.**

You would think that being Heads together, we would have had to do rounds together as well.
Apparently not, according to the schedule I had written for the month. McGonagall called me into
her office today and scorned me for “conveniently forgetting” to sign the two of us up for rounds
together. In all honestly, I had completely forgotten to write the two of us down for rounds. It
must have been unconsciously done—because it sounds like something I would definitely do if I
wasn't so picky about the rules. And it would have worked perfectly if some fifth year Prefect
with uncanny deductive reasoning skills and killer eyesight hadn't read the list and noticed
both Potter and I's names not written. I take back what I said earlier, I wouldn't mind so
much if the whole school was extremely dim-witted as long as it meant not having to associate with
Potter more than necessary.

After vehemently repeating to Professor McGonagall that it was an accident, she let it pass with
a warning. But for a second I could have sworn she was going to strip me of my title. Thank Merlin
for my always handy suck up talents. Without them I would be as good as—well Potter, really. You
know, for a guy I hated, he was popping up in my head a lot lately. It must be his odd behavior
this past week.

Oh, I haven't told you? Well, this past week Potter has been acting very odd. He keeps on
staring at me. No, staring isn't the right word. More like studying me—yeah, I know, Potter,
*studying*? Apparently instead of directing that skill on his coursework, he wants to use it
on me. I have no idea why but for whatever reason it's really starting to freak me out. The
last thing I want on me is Potter's eyes. I have half a mind to go up to him and ask what the
hell he finds so interesting. But that's out of the question. What if I'm just imagining
things? What if he's not actually staring at me, but off into the distance ridiculously close
to my face? I could ask him about it, he'd call me loony, and soon I'd have a new nickname
obscure enough to rival Loony Lovegood's. I think it's better to leave it alone for now
until I'm absolutely sure.

Anyway, back to reality for a moment. You remember the crystal rose that Joe gave me (which I
still can't believe he bought. I mean honestly, how many galleons did that guy spend? It's
driving me insane!)? Well, he mentioned to hold it close to my heart, as I recall. He probably
didn't mean it literally but it was the least I could do to fulfill his unintended wish. I had
quite the talent for transfiguration, and the rose seemed enchanted (unless they've invented
crystal roses that bloom in the Muggle world), so I wouldn't cause much damage to the piece.
After a few minutes thought, I hit the books and transfigured the rose into a necklace. The red
flower was now on the end of a long golden chain that I had tucked strategically under my jumper
just in case I was to run into Joe in school. An ingenious idea, if I do say so myself.

It was very similar to the way I hid my time turner in third year when I was taking a surplus of
classes in order to determine where I wanted to drive my life. Back then I was so worried about my
career and studies I was near to exploding at any moment. It's weird, but now I'm much more
relaxed about it. Probably because I've had time to think about it rather than trying to cram
everything in so when the time came I could do anything. In all truth, I would be content to own a
bookstore in Diagon Alley, selling novels of both the magical and Muggle persuasion. I could
introduce a whole new chapter in literature to the Wizarding World, teach children to embrace the
society beyond their magically protected walls, tell Muggle-born's to be proud of their
heritage and educate them in ways that no Professor could ever accomplish.

It was silly, really. But even a bookworm like me can dream of having a steady dream job like
that. Not that anyone knew, of course. I've never even told Joe. That pretty much says it all.
One day I will, but for now I'll stick to the persona that I'll become a teacher or
something. That was always an option.

“Ready to go?”

I flinched from my place on the common room couch and looked up to Potter. He wasn't
sporting his usual smirk when he snuck up on me. Instead, he looked at me the same way he has been
the past week, studying me. I clenched my teeth. “Sure.”

He nodded and made for the portrait hole swiftly. And here we go.

I followed him out and saw Marie smiling at the two of us. Seeing Potter still walking towards
to where we were supposed to patrol, I leaned in to whisper, “What are you smiling at?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, my dear, nothing at all.”

I knew that was the most I was going to get out of the stubborn portrait, so I let it be.
Besides, I didn't want Potter to think I had ditched him. That was his job.

It didn't take long to catch up with him and place myself manually at his side. He
didn't seem to notice, though. His face was contorted to one of deep thought and I didn't
feel like interrupting what looked to be a stimulating state of mind. Oh, who was I kidding? He was
probably going over Quidditch statistics or something equally as boring. That's what all guys
think about anyway. Well, except Joe. He's a different case. Sure, he's expressed how much
he adores Quidditch, but that's not all of what he talks about. He speaks of literature and
music and… I'm rambling again, aren't I? Damnit, I really need to invest in a pensive to
sort out all of these thoughts for me. It would save me much more time that I could dedicate to
studying and—well, that's it.

We rounded a narrow corner near the entrance hall and came upon a couple snogging as if it were
their last day on earth. Honestly! Sticking your tongue down someone's throat isn't going
to prove that you love them for all eternity.

“Hey you!” I yelled at the young couple, fourth years, by the look of their scrawny figures.
They both stiffened and turned around. Seeing me and Potter, they quickly untangled themselves and
looked up through hooded, puppy-dog eyes as though that was going to sway their punishment.

“Names and House?” I asked coolly.

“R-Rachel Simms, Hufflepuff.” The girl stammered.

“Thomas Hill, Ravenclaw.” The boy murmured in an equally, but less shaky, tone.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff for being out of your dorm after hours and
inappropriate displays of affection. You will also serve detention next Tuesday with Professor
Sprout for—”

“Wait, hang on.” Potter interrupted from beside me. I, as well as Rachel and Thomas, looked over
at him with confused faces. He directed his attention at me. “Hermione, don't you think
that's a bit harsh for snogging in the hallway?”

“No.” I said plainly. “They were disregarding the rules to wrap their arms around each other and
suck each other faces off. I think it's safe to say that they were quite aware of the
repercussions and deserve to be punished for ignoring the regulations for curfew and
furthermore—”

“They're teenagers, Hermione, they do things like that. Don't tell me you've never
snuck out of your dorm to snog someone before?”

“No, I have not. Why waste your time sneaking about when there are more important things to
do?”

He ignored my comment and turned back to the two fourth years in front of us, who looked very
uncomfortable where they stood. “You guys can go off to your dorm. Don't worry about that
detention.”

“Hey wait, you can't just—” They were halfway down the hallway before I could finish. Now
infuriated, I turned back to Potter with a hot face. “What the hell was that about?! You can't
just let them off that easy!”

“Uhh yeah I can.” He said in an obvious tone. “Why were you so hard on them, anyway? You
don't just give them detention for wanting to sedate some of those raging hormones.”

“They were ignoring the rules to snog each other's brains out.”

“So?”

“*So* they were outside of their dorms for a stupid reason!”

“And what would be a good reason? Going to the library to study for an upcoming exam?”

“Yes.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“Urg!” I yelled in annoyance, throwing my hands up in the air. “Just let it go, okay? You won;
they're probably locking themselves in a broom cupboard or something equally as devoid of
space.”

He was silent and I let the tension of my stance relax. The last thing I needed was to get into
an argument with him in the dark of the night. The thought alone was enough to make me regret ever
letting my opinions overrun my sense of judgment. What if McGonagall was watching us? Highly
unlikely, obviously, but still possible. It must be my tendency to get overly suspicious.

I turned my back to continue patrolling the corridor when I heard him speak once more. His voice
was very soft, “You shouldn't judge someone because they're in love.”

My neck snapped back before I twisted to face him. “What makes you think they're in
love?”

He shrugged. “I never said they were.”

“Then what's your point?”

“Just because someone has a different regard of things doesn't mean they do things without
reason. They do it for their own motives and sometimes they're not what you think.”

Something about that sentence struck a deep part of me. “You're one to talk.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

I scoffed. “I'm *not* getting into this with you again.”

“Why not?” He asked incredulously, craning his neck to the side.

“Because you *know*!” I screamed. He looked surprised to hear my raised voice, but I
didn't care. “You know what you did! All I wanted to do was be your friend but you had to go on
and ruin it! Did you even think about my feelings when you pushed me out?”

“*What* are you talking about, Hermione?!” He yelled, now looking a mix between perplexed
and furious. “Time and time again you talk about the same thing, the same time, but never
specifying what on Earth I did to make you hate me so much! If you didn't work it out by now
that I'm completely clueless in that respect, you're a lot dumber than you look.”

I stormed over to him, back slightly hunched over and face set with fury. “Why do you insist on
acting so dense when I talk about it?”

“Because I have no idea what you're on about. I'm beginning to think that you're
just making up reasons to hate me because you—you're… you're…” He trailed off as his eyes
seem to catch onto something. They drifted down towards my chest and I lifted up my hands to cover
myself up.

“*What* is with you and looking at my chest?!”

“I-I'm not looking at your chest, I'm—Hermione where did you get that necklace?”

I opened my mouth to yell at him but then realized his question was in regard to the shining
transfigured rose necklace that dangled so limply in front of my jumper. Oh shit. “It was a gift. A
birthday present.”

“Oh Merlin…” He said, one hand clutching his head as though a giant wave of pain had just washed
over him.

I may hate him, but he looked as though he were about to vomit. “Potter are you okay?”

“I told you to call me Harry.” He said stubbornly.

I rolled my eyes and repeated the question. “Harry are you okay?”

He removed his hand and looked at me as if he was looking at a whole different person. I gave
him an odd look in return. To be perfectly honest, he was making me feel *very* uncomfortable.
Stripped, even, of my skin. It sounded weird, but I guess you can't really describe it. Maybe
after he stopped looking at me like that, I could come up with another synonym. But right now my
mind was kind of blank. Weird.

He averted his eyes from me and looked back at the necklace, and then away at the hallway behind
me. “Actually I have to go.”

“Go?” I asked dreamily.

“Yeah—uhm, see you later, `Mione.”

He brushed past me so quickly I thought he might tip me over. Thankfully, I regained my balance
and turned around to yell at his back. “Wait a second! We have rounds to finish!” He didn't
seem to hear me as he kept at his speed and turned a corner the opposite way we came. “Never mind,
then.” I mumbled to myself. “I'll just finish them alone.”

I continued down the hallway by myself with my hands knotted behind my back. I would never
understand the workings of the male brain even if I tried. There was nothing in books that could
prepare me for dealing with the inner operation of their mind. If only I would have studied
Occlumency when I came across the book, I wouldn't have this problem. It would come in mighty
useful right about now. And what about that nickname he gave me before he left? *`Mione*. My
full name coming from his lips was enough of an annoyance, now he saw fit to shorten it as though
we're bestest buddies?

*Calm yourself, Hermione.* *You don't need this. Just forget about it and finish your
rounds.*

I took a deep breath and nodded to myself. I didn't need Potter to screw up my evening. I
would forget about it and, when the event arose again, I would deal with it. But for now, I had a
job to do.

~*~

My eyes flittered open and I let out a quiet yawn. Last night's rounds had worn me out big
time. As much as I tried to forget it, I couldn't get Potter's look when he saw my necklace
out of my mind. So many emotions had crossed his face: Anger, horror, relief, triumph, fear, and a
bunch of others that I couldn't find the words for. I knew the gift was gorgeous, but it
wasn't *that* mind boggling, was it?

Shaking my head, I got ready for the day quickly and went downstairs. Today was the first
Hogsmeade trip of the year that I had planned. The weather outside looked mild, so I put on a long
sleeved shirt and hooded sweatshirt paired with dark wash jeans and trainers. I grabbed a pair of
wool gloves as an afterthought and slid them onto my hands. I wasn't very hungry for breakfast
and wanted to get to Hogsmeade early to restock on some necessities, but mostly parchment because I
was too afraid to use the kind Sue got me. There was also a rumor going around that a new clothing
store had opened just before school started in the village, one that supplied dress robes for all
occasions. Since the date for the ball had been set for after the holidays when everyone would be
at school, it was a bit early to be looking for an outfit. But, if I had time, I may pay a
visit.

The theme had also been announced to the school by Professor McGonagall, who saw fit to combine
the winning theme, A Night in the Astronomy Tower, with Potter's oh-so-popular Masquerade idea
to form “A Masquerade Under the Stars”. As usual, Potter had gotten his way, and no combination of
ideas could change that.

The carriages were all ready to go as I arrived and I chose the one in the front of the line. I
climbed the hovering helper step and pushed in, letting myself fall onto the plush cushions as I
waited to arrive. Only when the carriage began to move did I hear a rustling behind me. I stiffened
and craned my neck to see an all-too-familiar face smiling softly down at me.

“Morning.” Potter greeted.

“Morning.” I replied softly. “Thanks for leaving me to patrol by myself, by the way.”

He scrunched up his nose, a face I hadn't seen on him yet. “Yeah I—I had some business to
take care of.”

“We could have stopped to use the loo, you know.”

He chuckled. “Not that kind of business, `Mione.”

I paused. There it was again. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

His eyebrows narrowed. “Keep calling you what?”

“`Mione.”

“Oh.” He said, another one of his odd looks washing over his face. “I didn't—I didn't
realize I had been. Sorry. I'll stop.”

I nodded contently and lifted myself up, my back cracking loudly. We were nearly to Hogsmeade.
Deciding it was best to just avoid Potter's eyes altogether, I diverted my attention to the
window to look at the fall trees whipping past. It wasn't long before I saw the buildings of
Hogsmeade and smiled. Looks like Potter wasn't in the mood for chit-chat for once.

I felt the carriage pull to a slow stop and as soon as it came to a halt, I slid out to the
fresh air, leaving Potter far behind me. I felt the gravel crunch beneath my trainers as I walked
towards Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. I had been there before to buy quills and parchment and knew
from experience that I much preferred The Write Expression. The cashier was always a cranky post
graduate with attitude, and the owner, a stout man with crazy eyes, always tried to con you into
buying quills that talked. His own invention, apparently.

I arrived at the small shop in High Street and pushed open the door. A high pitched bell chimed
to alert the workers of my presence. I sprinted to the back of the store where the parchment was
located to avoid the crazy storeowner and scanned the choices. There were pink bundles, and ones
that were enchanted to sparkle under the right lighting. Knowing that it was a waste of money to
buy parchment that was dyed and charmed to look pretty, I settled for the regular bland brand. I
grabbed three packs to last me well after the holidays and arrived at the cash register without
incident. I must have come on his day off or something. Thank Merlin.

The cashier this time was a twenty-something girl with hot pink hair, multiple ear, nose, and
lip piercings, and overly done makeup. I know it's wrong to judge people, but I couldn't
help but feel intimidated. She could be complimenting my hair and I would alert the Ministry. I
hurriedly paid for my items and gingerly grabbed the bag she had stacked my parchment into. I
rushed out the doorway and onto the vacant streets.

I really needed a personality change, this was getting ridiculous. I was superstitious, scared
of basically anything that looked remotely intimidating, and in love with someone I had never met.
Talk about a tragedy.

I continued to walk about the streets in a daze, when a glimmer caught my eye. I turned to the
source and felt the breath leave me. There, incased in a glass window, was the single most
beautiful dress I had ever seen. It was as pure as gold in color. A tight, strapless bodice sewn
with small, glittering white diamonds that spilled halfway down the rounded skirt in small creases
above a second tier of fabric that reached the floor in a neat bundle of chiffon that matched the
first in color adorned the mannequin.

I don't think I have ever seen a dress that magnificent in all my life. I thought my Yule
Ball dress was pretty but *Merlin's beard*. I could see myself walking into the great
hall, mask on, hair done perfectly—I looked magnificent. Not like myself at all, which was perfect.
I felt my feet drift towards the door and I didn't stop them. I wanted to try that dress on, if
only to see what it would look like.

As I entered, I saw the elegant decorations and automatically felt out of place. I had been in a
store like this before with my mum when she had to pick out a dress for a dentist's ball. Yeah,
they had those. The assistants kept on telling her all this crap about how she should buy something
else that would go great with the under layers, and how they were having a sale on fragrances. It
was pathetic.

“May I help you, my dear?”

A kind-looking woman with silver hair and rosy cheeks looked at me with a small smile. She wore
a knee-length, gray pencil skirt and pale pink turtle neck under a black work robe that I had seen
many magical business owners wear before. It was a symbol of authority—she must own the store.

“Umm… yes. I was wondering if I could try on the dress in the display.”

Her smile broke into a grin and she nodded. “I know exactly the one.”

She walked over to a rack of gold-colored gowns and shifted through the hangers until she came
upon what she was looking for. A replica of the dress I saw appeared in her hand and she held it
out to me. I took it carefully as she pointed a finger to a pair of doors a few feet away from a
half-circle of mirrors and platform.

“The dressing room is that way. I'll be with you in a moment after I finish taking
inventory.”

I nodded, not really knowing what to say. She made her way to the front desk and I followed her
directions to the doors. The room that awaited me was brightly lit with three chandeliers. There
was a line of dressing rooms aligning the left wall, and a long line of couches on the right. I
chose the room nearest to the entrance and stripped down to try on the gown. I was a bit nervous,
to tell you the truth. What if I ripped it? It looked as expensive as my house. I knew that I
couldn't dream of affording this, but the curiosity was killing me.

I slid the dress on and felt it adjust to my body. Of course, it was a *magical* dress. The
buttons in the back clasped themselves and the bottom rose so that it just grazed the floor. It fit
me like a glove. There were no mirrors in the dressing room, of course, so I was forced to go
outside in plain sight to see my reflection. I took a deep breath as I pushed open the doors and
stepped onto the platform nearby. I had my eyes closed the moment my foot touched the first step on
the raised surface and was having second thoughts about opening them. What if it wasn't what I
expected? What if I looked horrible and instead of making me feel good, the dress made me feel
horrible and I would lie in bed the rest of the day feeling sorry for myself?

“You should open your eyes.”

The voice of the lady who had greeted me broke through my train of thought. I felt my eyes
flutter open and look at the stranger in the mirror.

“Oh Merlin.”

I saw the lady smile at me. “Yes, I do say that you look a sight in that dress. Gold is
definitely your color”

I nodded numbly and turned around to see the glittering sparkles light up in front of my eyes. I
really did look beautiful. Not to sound conceded or anything. Every girl has those moments where
they don't know if it's them in the mirror or someone who looks very similar to them, but
prettier. I knew it was me, but couldn't really believe it. The picture of myself entering the
great hall flashed once again in my mind, this time with Joe looking at me with an open mouth. That
picture proved it. I knew that this was the dress that I was going to be wearing.

I turned to the woman and asked the price.

“One hundred and fifty-two galleons”

My eyes popped out of their sockets. *Holy shit*. “O-oh my.”

I knew the lady could tell my hesitance. “We have a layaway program, if you're
interested.”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. I couldn't come up with that kind of money if I tried.”

My heart dropped as I realized that my dream of being the belle of the ball was ruined. I looked
back at myself in the mirror and fiddled with the bodice, pulling it up an inch. It just wasn't
meant to be.

Just then, I felt a strange sensation in the back in my head, the feeling that someone was
watching me. I turned around quickly to look out the window nearby but saw no one. Looks like my
superstitions throughout the day had brought me to the point where I was beginning to imagine
things. Fantastic.

I thanked the woman and went back into the dressing room to change. After I pulled my sweater on
and adjusted my gloves, I draped the dress over my arm and hung it on the empty rack in the middle
of the room. It pained me, it really did. The picture I had painted of Joe looking at me in the
great hall faded away and I bit my lip. So much for the perfect night.

I exited the store with a wave to the woman who had helped me and arrived on the streets.
Turning back to the display, I gave my dream dress one last fleeting glance before turning to
Honeydukes. I needed chocolate. Don't look at me like that! It's cheaper than therapy.

~*~

Link to the inspiration for Hermione's dream dress:
**http://www.misquincemag.com/cm/misquincemag/images/quinceanera-dress-Q372-F-de-79947199.jpg**

-->



11. Déjà Vu’s a Bitch
---------------------



**A/N: Okay, I know it sounds really dorky, but every time I read an anonymous review, and the
name that appears in the box reads “Anonymous”, I can't help but smile. Alright, enough of my
sad attempt at humor. For those of you who read my Tumblr posts, you know what chapter this is! For
those of you who don't, what are you waiting for? Read it and get a sneak peak just like they
did! I also want to those who have been submitting songs for the soundtrack. I've come across
some awesome candidates, but I still need more! A wide****r selection always works better for
me. So, please, keep the suggestions coming!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine, blah, blah, blah. The franchise belongs to JKR,
yadda, yadda, yadda.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**D****éjà V****u's a Bitch**

I usually don't care what day it is. But today is different. There's no avoiding
glancing at the calendar, no turning a deaf ear to the buzz, no blocking out the memories. I know
that sometime today I will break. It's unavoidable. I'm going to try and hide it, run away,
anything to stop the images from coming back. It's never that easy, though, is it? People
always get in the way—or, more commonly, don't get in the way when you want them to. Take this
morning for example. I woke up, got ready, and Potter wasn't there. I know I should be relieved
not to have him start something first thing in the morning. But this morning was the time when I
needed the distraction the most. And he wasn't there. By the time I reached the great hall, I
saw that he was already there, talking to Weasley about something.

As I passed by them, Potter met my eyes for only a moment before turning back to his
conversation with Weasley. I scoffed to myself and took a seat at the far end of the table,
choosing to work on my Charms essay rather than eat. I didn't feel like walking all the way
back to my common room to finish, so I just sat there and wrote, never once looking back at the
pair of boys who I knew, more than anyone else, would make this day even worse. There was a small
part of me that knew my mind would start going into overdrive if I looked at them for long. Call it
women's intuition, or whatever else you like, but I was sticking to it. I didn't want my
whole day to be ruined. I would wait until dinner to let my frustrations out. Granted, my night
would be horrible. But I could really care less.

I heard the lull of morning voices begin to stir something within me. And then there was
Dumbledore, who stood up gracefully to announce tonight's feast. The first wave hit me.

*I was sitting next to Harry, Ron, and Neville Longbottom today. They seemed to be the only
ones that could stand my presence as of late. You would think a girl as lively as me would come as
a relief. Apparently Witches and Wizards are very quiet people. I made a mental note of that when
Lavender Brown told me to bugger off when I tried to inform them about the* *difference
between being able to apperate and using floo powder.*

*The night previous, the four of us had encountered a three-headed dog at the end of the third
floor corridor. You heard me right. Just like out of the Greek mythology books. It was terrifying
to say the least, but we* *made* *it out okay. I seemed to be the only one that noticed
that it was standing atop a trap door after we were safe. The others* *were* *too
preoccupied with its heads to pay any mind to* *anything below**. Honestly! They really
needed to learn how to observe their surroundings more carefully if they expected to be great
Wizards someday.*

*It was all Harry and Ron could talk about the next day, though. I pretended to not be
interested as they came up with theories as to what could lie underneath, when really I was
ecstatic that they actually listened to me for once.*

*“It's either really valuable or really dangerous,” Ron supplied.*

*“Or both,” Harry added.*

*Even though I was happy that they were talking about my theory, I wasn't on speaking
terms with either. They had almost gotten* *us* *killed—or worse* expelled*. I
wasn't about to go on and help them. Maybe when they asked.*

*The morning post arrived as usual. But what was curious, was that Harry had gotten a parcel
dropped in front of him. He had never received one before, so it was an odd sight indeed. His
expression was one of pure shock before he ripped open the letter that came attached.* *I
didn't get to see what was written, as he handed it off to Ron with a gleeful expression.
Whatever was in that package was enough to make him grin as wide as if it were Christmas.*

*Ron skimmed the letter quickly and mimicked the other boy's excitement. “A Nimbus Two
Thousand!” He moaned enviously. “I've never even* touched *one.”*

*But before I could make any comments, or really any inquiry about how he would come into
possession of such an extravagant gift, especially since first years were not allowed brooms, the
two boys were off. I watched them retreat with the package in a hurry, probably to unwrap the gift
in private.*

*A week later,* *it was all over school that* *Potter had gotten himself a place on
the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was the youngest Quidditch player on a house team in over a
century! Quite an achievement, even considering my standards, for an event like that to take place.
I vaguely remembered Professor McGonagall escorting him out of the courtyard during our first
flying lesson after he had retrieved Neville's Remembrall. Later that day, I had overheard them
talking about dueling Draco Malfoy afterhours and tried to convince them that it wasn't a very
good idea at all. But, of course, they didn't listen to me and told me it was none of my
business.* *The rest is history.*

I stopped the memory abruptly. Shit. It was going to be harder than I thought to keep my past at
bay. I gathered up my things and headed straight for Charms class, trying my best to ignore the
scent of baking pumpkin that was ever so present in the hallways. Not an easy feat, let me tell
you. Not when your favorite dessert of all time is pumpkin pie, and you knew that it was going to
be on the table that night at the feast.

No, no! Not now. I needed to focus on my Charms work.

I arrived at the classroom and set my books down at a desk towards the front as usual. I took
the time I had before class begun to read over my essay. We were asked to give our opinions on the
expansion of the levitation charm, and I was a firm believer that if we had the will to make it
possible, than we should. Who needed just *one* levitation charm? *Wingardium Leviosa*
was useful, of course. But I had perfected it since first year when we were required to lift a
single feather.

Oh crap.

I felt the nudging of the memory pick at my brain and I did my best to keep it at bay. But as my
classmates began to take their seats around me, I was taken back to the day that changed my life.
Six years ago exactly, two boys walked into Charms class side-by-side much as they were doing at
this very moment. The only seats that were available were the two next to me and that was what did
it. Déjà vu was a bitch.

*Ron Weasley sat next to me today in Charms. It was a pleasant surprise, to be perfectly
honest. I tried to ignore that it was the only seat left for grabs. Harry was next to Seamus
Finnegan, the poor dear. That boy was horrid at spells and had a tendency of blowing things up. I
wondered vaguely why Harry hadn't sat next to me. He didn't seem to find me as annoying as
Ron, so it was only logical. But, I would take what I could get. Maybe I could prove to him that I
could be useful as a friend and forget all the awful things he said to me. Maybe.*

*I acted as angry as he was when we were paired together for practicing a new levitating charm
called* Wingardium Leviosa. *Professor Flitwick kept on reminding us to use the “swish and
flick” method and practice the proper pronunciation so as not to end up with a buffalo on our
chest. As we began our practice, Ron kept on waving his wand about as though he wanted to slice the
feather in half.*

*“*Wingardium Leviosa*!**” he shouted, waving his arms like a windmill.*

*“You're saying it wrong,” I snapped in annoyance, all acting now gone from my demeanor.
“It's Wing-*gar*-dium Levi-*o*-sa, make the `gar' nice and long.”*

*“You do it, then, if you're so clever.” Ron snarled.*

*I rolled up the sleeves on my gown and prepared to show him the right way to do it. Maybe,
after seeing a proper demonstration, he would finally see that I was useful and stop acting like a
brainless git. Maybe.* *I flicked my wand and said firmly, “*Wingardium
Leviosa*!**”*

*The feather in front of us r**ose* *off the desk and hovered about four feet above
our heads as I kept my hand steady.*

*“Oh, well done!” cried Professor Flitwick, clapping, “Everyone see here, Miss Granger's
done it!”*

*Ron made a sour face as I smiled at him smugly. He didn't talk to me the rest of the
class. It seemed my method of proving myself proved to be unsuccessful once again. Looks like I was
going to figure out something else. I saw great potential in these two boys, and I wasn't going
to stop until I proved it to them.*

I pulled back from the scene. Weasley was looking at me as though I was going mental. Potter, on
the other side of him, shared a similar look.

“You alright?” He asked.

“Fine.” I said coolly.

He left it alone at that and turned to our professor, who was just now walking up to his podium,
ready to teach the class. He straightened out his robes, which seemed to be a bit crumpled, before
he spoke up. “I trust all of you are finished with you essays?”

A few groans could be heard throughout the room, the two boys next to me included. I smirked in
triumph as I readied my essay for him to collect.

“Now, now, I gave you plenty of time to work on them this week. I expect to have all of your
essays in my hand as I walk by.”

He walked around the room, collecting everyone's essays with a small smile. As he reached my
desk, I handed him my essay without hesitation and he beamed. “Oh, I cannot wait to hear your
opinion, Miss Granger. I'm expecting another 110.”

I blushed, “I hope so, sir.”

I heard Weasley scoff beside me and I turned to glare at him. I didn't bother telling him
off, since it was his turn to hand in his essay. Or, should I say, not. I leaned back in my seat
and prepared to watch the show.

“Mr. Weasley, where is your essay?”

“My owl ate it.”

Strike one.

The class, myself included, let out a chuckle. Professor Flitwick ignored us and kept his eyes
on Weasley pointedly, his face unwavering. “Your owl ate it? The last time I checked, Mr. Weasley,
your owl couldn't digest a bobby pin.”

Weasley smiled meekly while Flitwick kept his gaze hard. “Well you see, Harry and I havr
Quidditch practice every night and we didn't have much time in between then and dinner and then
bed… time…”

“And what about the weekend?”

Strike two.

“I have better things to do on the weekends than coursework.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Perhaps you could make the time for detention, then? This Saturday, ten in the morning, my
office.”

Strike three and you're out.

A collective “Oooh” went through the class as Weasley's eyes bulged out of his sockets. “But
Professor, there's a game that day!”

“You should have thought about that before you couldn't make the time to complete your
essay.”

And with that said, Flitwick made his way to Potter, who, unlike Weasley, handed in his essay on
time. Interesting. Weasley was looking at him as though he had just dropped out of a spaceship with
green skin and antennae.

“How did *you* finish your essay and not tell me?” He asked in a high-pitched voice.

Potter shrugged. “I use my time wisely, I guess, and don't spend all hours of the day
sucking the tongue out of Padma Patil's mouth.”

I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. What? His comments could be humorous when not directed at
me. Like I said, I'm not an idiot. I know a good burn when I hear one. And believe you me,
Weasley just got *scorched*, and by his supposed “best mate”. This was going to be
entertaining, I could tell.

“At least I don't spend my time hunched over a trashcan of discarded parchment like some
obsessed drone.”

Potter stiffened and looked briefly over at me, for reasons I didn't understand and
didn't care to. He always kept himself locked in his bedroom whenever I checked, so why should
I care what he does in there? I didn't want to know. Not really.

“Shut up, Ron.”

“Ohhh hit a soft spot, did I?” He asked with a smirk.

“Shut *up*.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Just leave it, Weasley, he obviously doesn't want to talk about it.”

The two boy's necks snapped over to me. I hadn't meant to say it, but Potter looked like
he was going to sink into the ground. The least I could do was throw him a line, even if he would
never reciprocate the gesture.

“Eavesdropping, Granger?” Weasley spat. “Don't you have better things to do, like homework
or something?”

“Oh that's rich, Weasley. I haven't heard that one before.” I said in a bored tone.

“Well then why don't you just turn back to your desk and find your own friends to talk to.
Oh, wait a minute…”

“Ron, leave it.”

“You don't have any.”

I didn't even register that Potter had spoken up as I ground my teeth together in
frustration. I didn't speak up, though, which was probably my biggest mistake, because he kept
on going.

“So head back to the library, or wherever it is that people like you go, and think about that
the next time you try to butt in to another person's conversation. Know your place, Granger.
It's with the books, not with the people.”

I heard someone let out a breath, but I wasn't sure if it was me or Potter. “I'd rather
be in the library than on the streets, which is where you'll end up if you don't put some
effort into your schoolwork. Good luck being a bum.”

I shoved the rest of my supplies into my book bag and made my way to the door for a swift
exit.

“Where do you think you're going, Miss Granger?”

I turned back to Professor Flitwick for a brief moment. “Sorry Professor, lady problems.”

I didn't stick by to see his reaction, though I already knew that he wouldn't come after
me. No one would. It was like Weasley said, I was a friendless bookworm. He may be daft about most
things, but he, along with Potter, are the only ones that could really know that I would remain
friendless forever.

*“It's no wonder no one can stand her.” I heard Ron say as I started to approach him,
wanting to apologize for the way I acted in class. I slowed my pace, though, as I registered to
whom he was referring.* *“She's a nightmare, honestly.”*

*I felt the hot* *sting of tears in my eyes and rushed* *to get past the two boys. I
ended up bumping into Harry in my hurry. I could sense him looking at me and I tried to hide my
tear stained face. It was of no avail as I kept my pace to get past them.*

*“I think she heard you.”*

And I heard him today, as well. Although after all these years, he had learned face-to-face
confrontation instead of talking behind someone's back. You know, even if it wasn't the
right way to think about it, I preferred behind my back. Because when I found out about it that
way, it wasn't during class, and I didn't force myself to leave the classroom to have a few
minutes. But I couldn't do anything about it now, could I?

I let my feet carry me to a secluded place, not caring where it was. As long as I could be alone
and let these stupid emotions pour out before next period. Stupid teenage need to cry at every
small thing that sets them off…

Stopping suddenly, I looked up and felt my stomach drop as I recognized the familiar doorway. My
feet *would* lead me here. I pushed my way in and peered around the familiar lavatory that I
occupied six years ago. Now don't go and think that I return here every year as some weird
therapeutic ritual. This happened to be the first time I returned to the scene of the crime since
it took place. Don't believe me, that's your choice.

I walked around to the stalls and let my hand touch the one in which I spent most of my first
Halloween at Hogwarts crying my eyes out because of what one boy said. I opened the swinging door
and sucked in a large amount of breath. Look at me, getting all emotional about a toilet. Wow, I
need help.

I felt my legs give out beneath me and knew that this was as good of a time as any to let the
repressed memory out. The signs all pointed to it anyway. The incident in Charms, my feet leading
me here; it was as if someone wanted me to let it out. Right here, right now. I closed my eyes and
took myself back to a time I wish I could forget.

*I don't know what lead me to the bathroom on the third floor. Perhaps because it was the
closest place to be alone? I don't know. But whatever made me do it was a very bad decision to
follow. Some girls in my class tried to help me, ask what was wrong, but all I wanted was to be
left alone. No one seemed to bother me after that.*

*I was in the last toilet that aligned the wall, my head in my hands, letting the last of the
tears wash over me. I knew that it must be close to dinner, because my stomach was rumbling with
hunger. I couldn't ignore its calls for feeding for much longer unless I wanted to get sick.
Remembering my mum's advice on always listening to your gut feeling (in this case my stomach
feeling, ha ha), I leapt off the toilet and opened the door to let myself out. Maybe I would give
that Weasley boy a piece of my mind. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Who cares what he thinks
anyway?*

*I wiped the last bit of wet tears off my cheek with a bowed head, and walked a few steps
towards the exit. Only, it wasn't a stone floor I was met with. I saw a giant foot in a sickly
blue-green color blocking my way. I looked up slowly and saw the face of a troll looking down at me
with a* *dumb* *expression. I felt my breath hitch as I sprinted pa**s**t it to
hide* *beneath a sink. Apparently, I frustrated it, and it knocked down the stall where I once
stood* *with the huge club it held in its right hand**. I felt the cold rush of fear wash
over me. I was going to die.*

*The troll began knocking down sinks, looking for where I was hiding.*

*“Confuse it!” I heard a familiar voice shout.*

*I turned towards the noise and saw none other than Harry Potter and Ron Weasley standing in
the doorway. Harry picked up a nearby water tap off the floor and threw it against the wall, trying
to* *distract the beast so near to me.*

*The troll lowered its giant cl**ub down to the sink next to mine**, causing a pipe
to sp**l**it and spray water all over my face. The two small boys lunged for the beast
and it's overly large feet moved out of my vision. I crawled to another place of shelter and
dug around for my wand. Nothing. I had left it in the common room. My life was now in the hands of
two eleven-year-old males who hated my guts. Merlin help me.*

*“Oy, pea-brain!” yelled Ron from his place on the far side of the chamber. He threw a metal
pipe at the troll and ended up hitting its shoul**der. It didn't notice the* *pipe,
but Ron's yell seemed to have more of an impact. It paused in its movement and turned towards
Ron. Harry moved around it quickly towards me.*

*“Come on, run,* run*!” He yelled at me, trying to pull me toward the door. I
couldn't move. I kept my back fir**m**ly pressed against the wall, my mouth open with
terror.* *I don't know what kept me from going with Harry. I* *could only guess the
shee**r* *horror* *of being in the same room as a troll and how close it came to
getting me.*

*The shouts seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared and started toward Ron, who was
the closest to it and had no means of escape. I saw Harry leave my side and release the cloth of my
robe. He then did something both very brave and very stupid. He ran to the troll and jumped atop
it, fastening his arms around its neck from behind. The beast didn't notice Harry's act
until his wand, which had been in his hand as he jumped, plunged into its nose.*

*I flinched as the troll twisted and flailed its club, howling with pain. Harry was hanging on
for dear life and my heart went out for him. If I wasn't so petrified, I would have tried to
help. But all I could do was stay out of the way. If the two of them succeeded, it wouldn't be
a triumph if I was dead.* *I sunk to the floor and tried my best to shield myself.*

*I saw Ron pull out his wand and wondered va**guely what he was going to do. W**e
hadn't covered spells strong enough to affect a giant* *troll yet**l. He waved his
wand in a very familiar motion—one that we had covered that very same day. “*Wingardium
Leviosa!*”*

*The club flew out of the troll's hand suddenly and rose up above its head. The spell
didn't last for long, as the club turned over and dropped onto its owners head with a sickening
crack. The troll swayed on the spot and fell flat on its face with a thud that made the whole room
tremble with its weight. Harry got to his feet shaking and out of breath. I watched him to make
sure he was alright before looking at Ron, who still had his wand raised and was staring at the
unconscious troll.*

*I spoke up first, wanting to both break the tension and ask a very important question. “Is it
— dead?”*

*“I don't think so,” Harry answered me. “I think it's just been knocked out.”*

*He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked
like lumpy gray glue. I made a face of disgust as he wiped it on the troll's trousers.*

*“Urgh — troll boogers.”*

*“What did I do?”*

*We both turned to Ron, who w**as looking over at us with wide* *eyes. His gaze
flickered once again to the comatose beast and Harry looked at him hesitantly. “Well, you knocked
out a troll.”*

*“With a spell* I *helped you with.” I said proudly.*

*Ron looked at me and his demeanor quickly changed. “Yeah, but it wasn't you who knocked
the troll out, was it? It was me.”*

*“I didn't say I—”*

*“No, you were too busy hiding up against the wall, not doing anything as Harry and I saved
your butt. You could be dead right now if it wasn't for us.”*

*His words stung, but I kept a clean face. “I know. And I wanted to thank you for coming to
find me.”*

*“You're wel—”*

*“You're lucky we didn't leave you to rot. If it wasn't for Harry remembering you
were in here, you'd be as good as dead.”*

*I looked over at Harry and he smiled meekly at me, looking slightly embarrassed. I felt
something warm* *rise* *up in my chest as I returned his smile.*

*“What this sounds like to me is a set-up.”*

*“Excuse me?” I asked, aghast.*

*“Yeah, you hid out in the bathroom until we came to help you. We're the only ones
who've been talking to you these past few weeks, right? You've been trying to make nice
with us, hoping we'd be your friends. I didn't think you'd go as far as trying to kill
us, though.”*

*“Ron, she didn't let the troll in.” Harry said.*

*He waved his hand about, “Regardless of the coincidence, it's still too convenient. I
knew you were* *desperate* *for friends, but Merlin, you didn't have to go this far.
The things people do to be Harry Potter's confidant, I tell you.”*

*My mouth was wide open, trying to form words but unable for some reason. I looked at the
red-headed boy as he chuckled to himself. Harry was silent as well as he looked at his friend,
until he let Ron's words sink in.*

*“What do you mean, Ron?”*

*“Isn't it obvious? She wants to be friends with the great Harry Potter for the glory.
Think about it, she's a bookworm with no sense of where she's goin**g, and no hope for
real friends,* *her last resort, trying to make nice with Harry Potter and his best mate. If
she can't make any other friends, why not shoot for the jackpot and go down in history?
She'd be Harry Potter's clever friend.”*

*“That's ridiculous!” I shouted at him. I looked over at Harry, “You can't believe
what's coming out of his mouth.”*

*He looked over at Ron and then back at me. Ron let out another mocking laugh, “Come on,
Harry, think about it. You didn't even know you were famous until you came here.* Everyone
*wants to know you, to be your friend, what makes Granger here any different? You remember on the
train. She knew more about you than you did!* *All the evidence points to* *it, you just
need to think about it a bit harder, use your noggin. People want to use you, Harry. You know they
do.”*

*I scoffed at Ron and turned to see Harry in deep thought. I felt my blood turn cool. “Harry…
Harry you can't believe him! I don't want to be your friend for the glory or any of that
other rubbish. I read, that's not a crime last time I checked. It's not my fault that you
happen to be the most famous wizard in a century and secured a pl**ace in every book of
Wizarding h**istory published today.”*

*He looked at me sadly. “Hermione I—Ron's right. I don't really know who I can trust
right now. But I—”*

*“See!” Ron shouted. “He doesn't want to be your friend.* *So just leave us alone,
bookworm.”*

*He* *then* *walked over to Harry and grasped his shoulder. He looked very
uncomfortable as he* *turned* *back* *at me, looking* *as th**ough he
wanted to say something. He seemed to have* *decided against it as Ron maneuvered him to the
door. I heard their hushed voices echo throughout the room as they departed, but they were gone
within a few seconds.*

*I couldn't believe the lies coming out of his mouth! All I wanted to do was make a few
friends. It didn't matter if one of them happened to be Harry Potter. He could be Jack the
Ripper for all I cared! Sure, it would have been great to be friends with him, but apparently they
thought differently. They saw how I noticed what that three-headed dog was standing on! I could
have helped them figure it out. We could have gone on an adventure—acquired a nickname like The
Golden Trio, or something equally as cheesy.*

*But I guess it didn't matter now.*

*Maybe Harry would see sense. Maybe Ron would realize he was wrong and they would come back
and apologize. Yeah, that's it. All this would be just a big misunderstanding.*

*A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made me look up. I hadn't realized how much of a
racket we had made. Of course someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's
roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by
Snape and Quirrell. Quirrell took one look at the troll lying on the ground and let out a whimper,
sitting quickly down on a toilet and* *clutching his heart.*

*Snape bent over the troll, examining it, probably checking to see if it was dead. Professor
McGonagall looked over at me, still on the floor, with a red face. I had never seen her look so
angry. Her lips were white from pressing them together so hard. Any thoughts I had of getting off
easy were quickly wiped from my mind.*

*“What on Earth were you thinking of?” she said with a cold fury in her voice. “You were lucky
you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?”*

*Snape looked over at me, just now noticing my presence in the room. His gaze made me feel
uncomfortable. I shifted my eyes to Professor McGonagall and licked my lips. There was a small part
of me that wanted to blame this whole thing on Ron and Harry, but I knew better. I would be the
bigger person here.*

*“I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on my own — you
know, because I've read all about them.”*

*She stared at me with a shocked look on her face. “Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could
you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?”*

*I hung my head low and apologized.*

*“Twenty points will be taken from Gryffindor for this,” she said sternly. “I'm very
disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower.
Students are finishing the feast in their houses.”*

*I left quickly, before she changed her mind and gave me detention as well. As I continued to
Gryffindor tower, I had to keep repeating to myself that things would get better. Harry and Ron
would realize their wrongs and* *come back with apologies galore. Yes, this would all work out
in the end.*

I had tears running down my cheeks by now. Things didn't work out in the end, not in the
least. The next day, Potter and Weasley gave me the silent treatment. The day after that, they
started teasing me. Potter was the worst, though. I thought Ron had been bad in the bathroom, but
it was nothing compared to what he said to me. He never spoke to me often, but when he did, it cut
me deep. He called me names I dare not repeat, for fear of making this day even worse. I had
eventually become numb to both his and Weasley's comments, and they had backed off some as the
years passed.

At the end of first year, Potter ended up in the hospital wing. Rumors circulated all around
about how he ended up in there, but I didn't pay any mind. My theory was that he and Ron had
gone in search of what was through that trap door, and I stuck to that. Whatever was beyond it, I
didn't know, and I didn't care to. It was all in the past, and that's what got me here,
leaning against this cubicle.

I sniffed and rubbed my wet eyes. There, it was over with. I relived the worst night of my life,
and now I had the rest of the day in front of me. No matter how much I tried to run, there was no
avoiding it, no forgetting. It happened. I was alone, with only a faceless pen-pal for company. At
least this day couldn't get any worse.

I didn't hear the footsteps nearing me, only his voice made me look up. “Hermione?”

I gasped and looked up into a pair of green eyes. Hello, irony.

-->



12. A 'Date' With Harry Potter
------------------------------



**A/N: So sorry this chapter is late! I had a really busy weekend.** **But it's up now
for you to read and enjoy. Hopefully. A lot of you have submitted song ideas for me already, and I
just want to thank you all! I'm still in the process of listening to them, so if anyone else
wanted to submit some, the floor is still open.** **Brownie points to anyone who can guess where
the inspiration for the bathroom scene came from =]** **Until next chapter, my lovelies!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. I'm not JKR, nor do I wish to be. Her sense of
romance is seriously disturbed.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**A “Date” With Harry Potter**

“Hermione?” He repeated, this time more firm.

I shied away from his voice at first, ashamed that he had caught me at such a vulnerable moment.
I wasn't even angry that it was *him* who had found me. To be perfectly honest, I
didn't even care. I just wanted to be left alone to drown myself in the past for awhile. But as
I held onto my silence, I realized what this situation had turned into, what significance it held,
and it scared the living hell out of me.

“Go away.” I said softly, not wanting to raise my voice any higher than what was necessary. I
was no stranger to what happened when you tried to juggle talking and crying, and the last thing I
wanted to do was give Potter another reason to stay right where he was.

He was silent for a moment after I spoke. The possibility that he was actually going to listen
to me for once began to creep up in my mind and I let a small wave of calmness wash over me.

“No.”

His negative phrase reverberated about the room. I craned my head up slowly, not sure I had
heard him correctly. Our eyes met and I saw how determined he looked. Unwavering, even. Not wanting
to waste my time thinking of a retort that would insult and/or damage him, I backed up into the
cubicle behind me and shut the door. I pressed my back against the left side and closed my
eyes.

“Just leave me alone.”

I opened one eye and saw his feet begin to shuffle. My hopes began to warm up once more, but, of
course, they were once again torn down as they moved two paces to the right. I heard the creak of
the cubicle door next to mine open and put my head in my hands. A second later, I felt a slight
pressure on the wall behind me moved slightly to accommodate his back weight.

“What part of `Go away' and `Leave me alone' don't you understand?” I asked,
becoming more and more frustrated with him the longer he stayed.

“I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong.” He stated firmly. There was
nothing in his voice that suggested any different.

I remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction. This was a façade to find my weak
spot, I just knew it. He would use this conversation against me later like he always did.

“Was it what Ron said?”

“No.”

So much for remaining silent.

“Was it me?”

I paused before speaking, wanting to make him wait. Suffer. He didn't seem to like that
tactic too much.

“Well?” He asked impatiently.

I sniffed to clear my nasal passages. I was about to answer when a thought struck me. This—this
*moment* seemed like the perfect setup for closure. The past six years have been pure hell for
me because of what happened in here. What if I brought up the topic with him to seal up the wound?
He and I had never talked about it before. I had never talked to *anyone* about it before.
Perhaps that's what has been torturing me all along, my inability to express my past. What harm
could it really do if I started to talk about it, anyways? I already hated him.

“You realize where we are, don't you?”

And there it was, up in the air. All that was left was his response and this could all be
over.

There was silence from his stall. I could picture him looking around the confined space, as if
that would help stir up old memories. It continued like that for a good minute, and by then I was
sure that he had forgotten. I opened my moth to yell at him to get out once more, regretting ever
considering bringing up such a raw subject. But then he spoke and stopped me in my tracks,
figuratively speaking.

“I haven't been here in six years.”

His voice was soft, careful. I knew at once that we were now on the same page as I let out a
small breath of relief and nodded as if he could see me. “Me either. I think it's ironic how I
came here when I was upset.”

“Or fate.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Another pause.

I had heard exactly what he had said, but couldn't find the will to question it. Fate, he
thought. What an interesting way to put it. *Was* it fate that lead me—us—here? If it was then
what was I doing arguing? I should just go for it, go for the closure that I really needed to stop
acting like an obsessed moron and *get over it*. I could finally rest knowing that I told
someone how I felt that day and how much it still haunted me. Someone that might be able to do
something about it, even if it was a slim chance. It was the main reason that I didn't
associate with people my own age. Well, except for Joe, but that's different. I may have an
outer shell as hard as a turtle's, but that doesn't mean I'm made entirely of stone.
Now was the time to harden that inner layer by taking advantage of this situation by simply talking
about it. Even if it was with Potter, I knew it would help. It was probably better this way,
anyway.

I inhaled some more air through my still lightly clogged nose, but he beat me to the punch yet
again.

“How much did you know about me before you came to Hogwarts?”

I felt confused at the abrupt change of subject. Goodbye, closure. “What do you mean?”

“That day, six years ago… Ron said you knew more about me than I did. How much did you
know?”

I shrugged to myself. “Just a few facts that I picked up from books, I guess. I didn't know
much more than anyone else at that point.”

“Really?” He asked slowly. That word had apprehensiveness, surprise, and relief all wound tight
in its one syllable. How articulate of him.

“Yeah, really.” I said, slightly mocking him. “Why do you ask?”

I could hear him inhale sharply. “So you're saying that you never intended to use me?”

“Use you… what—what are you talking about?”

“You never once considered being my friend for the share in the glory?”

I was about to ask what potions he'd been sniffing lately when it hit me: Weasley. Weasley
said something like that here, in this bathroom, six years ago. Not in the exact same words or
context, obviously, but it was similar enough so that I could connect the two. I heard a high
pitched eleven-year-old boy's voice echo in my head. “*Come on, Harry, think about it. You
didn't even know you were famous until you came here.* Everyone *wants to know you, to be
your friend, what makes Granger here any different? You remember on the train. She knew more about
you than you did! All the evidence points to it, you just need to think about it a bit harder, use
your noggin. People want to use you, Harry. You know they do**.*”

“Why does it matter?” I asked, folding my arms around my now heavily heaving chest. “You made up
your mind on who to believe a while ago. It's not even imp-important anymore. What's done
is done.”

“But I want to know the truth!” He defended.

“Why?” I asked, sharp as a meat cleaver. “Why now and not six years ago?”

“Because now—now I have a broader mind to the subject and you obviously haven't forgotten
about it judging by the way you stormed out of Charms when you and Ron started arguing.”

“I did not *storm out**;* I excused myself from class to find a quiet place to
think.”

“Bullshit.” He said darkly. “We both know that we can never truly run away from out pasts, even
if it's the one thing we want most in this world. There are reminders all around us. And for
you, it's me.”

“What are you on about, Potter?”

“Harry.” He corrected. I rolled my eyes as he continued on. “I mean that I'm your reminder.
Every time you look at me, your anger from six years ago comes out. It doesn't even matter if
I'm nice to you or not, you'll always hate me for something I'm not even sure I
did.”

“You honestly don't know what you did?” I asked numbly.

“No!” He exclaimed. “For Merlin's sake, tell me or I'll—”

“You listened to him.”

Pause. “Excuse me?”

“To Ron—you listened to Ron. You chose to believe his lies over the words of an innocent girl
who just nearly got mauled by a troll! At first I just thought that it would pass, but no. You
chose a life of tormenting me beside your best mate for reasons and motives that *I* still
don't understand.”

“You just… you knew so much about me. More than I knew, and—”

“See that's the thing.” I interrupted, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading.
“*Everyone* knew more about you than you did. But the one time that someone who knew who you
were but didn't care, as long as you considered her a friend—you pushed me away. Shoved me far
away into a lonely existence where the only people who would listen to me were my parents and
professors. Do you know how lonely I've been?”

“Gods, Hermione.” He moaned, his position on the floor slacking as he slid further into the
ground. “It was—it was just so much *easier* to side with Ron and believe what he said. I
wasn't used to being famous, but knew from day one that there were people out there that wanted
to get close to me because of my name. Ron knew that, too, so he was only trying to help me out. I
listened to him because he was already my friend who liked me for me. I barely knew you back then,
so my young conscience told me to the logical thing.”

“And what was that, exactly?” I asked coolly.

I heard him sigh. “Go with Ron and figure it out.”

“What did you come up with, then?” I spat. “Obviously nothing good since you dedicated the next
few years ridiculing and teasing me.”

“Well Ron said—”

“Oh *Ron* said it was okay to make someone's life miserable, to make her feel as if
there was no way she could ever have any friends. *Ron* told you to go around and tell people
not to talk to me because I was weird. That makes perfect sense. Just listen to everything that
Weasley says and that'll be the way to go, the *right* thing.”

“I was eleven—”

“That didn't give you the excuse to have treated me like that and continue to do so six
bloody years later!” I screamed, having enough of his crap. I jumped from my place on the ground
and pulled open the cubicle door to leave.

Potter was quick to follow and sprinted to block my exit before I could go anywhere. I glared
and tried to move past him, but he kept moving his position to mirror me. I growled at him and
placed my hands on my hips.

“I know.” He said softly.

I craned my head to look him, my eyes shining with newly forming tears. Damn female emotions.
The last thing I needed to do was cry more. “Then why did you do it?”

“I… I don't know.”

I furrowed my brow. “You don't? Well, I do. It's because you're a coward. You
can't do things alone so you surround yourself with others who can think for you. You mooch off
of them like some clingy leech, sucking their ideas and knowledge from their heads and using it to
run your life.”

He pointed an accusing finger at me. “That's not true. I may always be surrounded by people,
but that doesn't mean I want to be.”

“You're one hell of an actor, then, because you sure fooled me.”

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, as though he was getting a headache. Come to think of it,
my cranium is beginning to swell a bit, too. Maybe if I sneak past him and sprint to the Head's
dorm, I could finally be rid of him and this sensitive—though slightly stimulating—topic for a
while with a clear conscience. Merlin knows that would wonders for my red rimmed eyes and stuffy
nose. Before I could take another step around him, though, he opened his eyes. Damn Potter and his
immaculate timing.

“I'll tell you what. If I convince you that I'm a good person, make up for all the years
I was being a complete prat, will you reconsider your opinions of me?”

“No.” I said bluntly. “Nothing you say or do can change what you did. You can try, but you
won't win me over.”

“That sounds like a challenge to me.” He said with a cocky grin.

I scowled. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“Too late. Congratulations, Miss Granger, you just won a date with Harry Potter.”

I snorted. “No, no way.”

“Okay, it's not a date. It's an… ahh… fun day. Yes. You've just won a fun day with
Harry Potter. Come on, let's get going!” He grabbed my arm and started dragging me down the
empty corridor.

“You can't possibly mean now!” I said in shock.

He nodded and continued leading me down the hallway.

“But I need to get back to class!”

He shrugged. “We're skipping class.”

“Excuse me?!”

He stopped suddenly and released his grip on my arm. I had to quickly flail my arms about to
keep from falling. Potter put a steadying hand on my shoulder and I thanked him with a nod.

“Look, Hermione. I know you're a stiff about your classes, but let's be honest here.
You're ahead of every last one of them by at least two weeks, am I right?” I blushed and
dropped my gaze to the floor. “That's what I thought. You need a day off, and what better way
to enjoy it than by exploring the depths of Hogwarts with me?”

“You can't be serious?” I asked in amusement as I turned my eyes on him once more. He looked
at me in a way that told me that there was no joke present in his request. “We'll get detention
if we're caught—or worse, get expelled!”

He let out a chuckle. “No, we won't. No one knows the castle better than I do.”

“Oh really?” I asked skeptically. “I've read all about this place and—”

“You can't learn everything about somewhere by simply reading, Hermione.” He said teasingly.
“You have to find out for yourself.”

I let out a breath and looked around. There were no teachers around, and Potter did have a
point. I work my arse off every day while I'm here. I *did* deserve a break. The only
thing holding me back was the company. I looked over at him to see him smiling and waiting for an
answer. I bit my lip, weighing my options. If I didn't go, I would hate him forever still (no
real change there) and go back to classes where I learned what I already knew. If I went, I'd
be with Potter all day, but would be exploring Hogwarts castle and learning much more about it than
any book would provide. It would be an educational experience. And, to be perfectly honest, the
prospect of possibly getting caught was exciting. It would be dangerous, it would be risky, it
would be *fun* to break the rules.

“Alright, Potter.” I said, making my decision. “You can take me exploring with you on one
condition.”

He looked positively giddy. “What?”

“You have to promise me that you won't try anything sneaky, and that this isn't a
trick.”

“Hermione why would I trick you?” He asked, slightly hurt.

“Just promise.”

He nodded. “Well yeah, I promise.”

“Good. Now where are we off to?”

“Well I was thinking of showing you one of Hogwarts' more hidden beauties.”

Excitement bubbled in my chest. “You mean secret passageways?”

“Something like that.”

I grinned and began to follow him down the hall. But before we could get too far, I stopped in
my tracks and cursed quietly. “I forgot my bag.”

He seemed nonplussed by it. “No problem, I'll go get it for you.”

“No it's okay I'll—”

He was already halfway down the hallway. I smiled and waited a minute for him to come rushing
back, my bag secured on his shoulder, not a paper out of place. I held out my hand to get it back,
but he shook his head. “I'll carry it.”

“You really don't have to.”

“I *want* to.”

I gave him an odd look, not really sure why he was doing this. “Erm… alright.”

He smiled and we continued on our way once again. I didn't pay much mind to where we were
heading; knowing that when we arrived at the place he was leading us to, I would recognize it. The
only thing I was going to be looking out for was what Potter was going to do once we got there.

After a few minute's walk, we arrived at a blank wall. I looked around and saw the tapestry
of Barnabas the Barmy that told me we were in a hallway on the seventh floor. I opened my mouth to
ask what we were doing here when Potter abruptly changed directions, turning to his left and
walking away. I was quick to follow his lead. After only a few paces, he turned directions again
and headed back towards the tapestry. I didn't question him, thinking he had forgotten
something. We headed a few paces past the tapestry before turning back around. Okay, maybe he was
having an off day. After two more trips back and forth in the same corridor, I spoke up.

“Are you lost or something? In case you haven't noticed, we've passed that tapestry
three times already!”

He shook his head. “I'm not lost.”

“Then what are you—”

“Turn around.” He instructed.

I rolled my eyes, mumbling to myself how barmy he was acting. But all negative thoughts ran out
of my mind as I came face-to-face with a door I *knew* hadn't been there before. “What
happened, what did you do?”

“*I* didn't do anything, Hogwarts did.”

I snorted. “Alright, alright, very funny. Now tell me what *Hogwarts* did.”

“Wait a second, and I'll show you.”

He walked past me briskly and pulled open the door, walking inside. I had no choice but to
follow him. What awaited me inside was unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was a room that
mirrored a spring afternoon, complete with freshly mown grass, dandelions, and trees. I tilted my
head to see that the ceiling was enchanted, much like the one in the great hall. It was a clear
blue sky with marshmallow-like clouds floating lazily across. The sun was in a near corner and I
had to shield my eyes once I found it. Potter had already moved towards the middle of the room
where there lay a checkered red and white picnic blanket with a woven basket, two sets of plates,
silverware, and twin glasses. It looked like a scene from a cheesy romance movie.

“What is this place?” I asked in wonder as I began to walk over to him.

“This is one of the castle's most useful secrets. You've no doubt read about the Room of
Requirement in your books.”

I gasped. “*This* is the Room of Requirement? I've read all sorts of things about it,
but have never seen it for myself. Does it really change in accordance to what the person
needs?”

He nodded. “Indeed it does. I was hungry, and desperately wanting the snow to melt, so it
conjured up this little scene for us. It's nearly lunchtime, you know.”

I smiled and looked once more around the room. “It's amazing.”

“Yeah, I know. My friend showed it to me a while back. I like to come here sometimes so that no
one can find me.”

I looked over at him curiously. “You showed me your secret hiding place?”

He laughed. “I guess so, yeah. But don't go spreading it around.”

“Oh I won't. This is too good of a secret to go mucking it all up. If word got out, this
place would be worn out and loose it's magic.”

“My thoughts exactly.” He said with a smile. “Care to join me?”

I looked over at him and saw that he was unloading the picnic basket. I walked gingerly over to
him and sat down. He pulled out a fistful of sandwiches, a small container of soup, and a large
glass of pumpkin juice. I suspected there was more in the bag, but I grabbed one of the sandwiches
anyway, unwrapping it greedily and taking a small bite. Potter also dug into the meal, filling the
two glasses with pumpkin juice.

We sat in silence for a while, eating our lunch. Naturally, Potter was the first one to
speak.

“So is my plan working?”

“What plan?” I asked, digging in the picnic basket until I pulled out an apple.

“The plan to win you over.”

Shit. I'd almost forgotten and it couldn't have been a half hour. “Oh, that. It's
going fine, I guess, if you believe `the way to a person's heart is through their stomach'
cliché.”

“Fantastic.”

I saw him take a spoonful of soup and bit my lip. This really wasn't so bad, even if I had
expected more danger and less conversation. He hadn't taken one jibe at me the entire time
we'd been alone, plus he'd shown me his getaway. Though I didn't quite like to think
it, he was doing a fine job at trying to prove my opinion of him wrong. But what had made him so
concerned about me in the first place? I pushed the question aside for the time being. For now, I
just wanted to enjoy this moment while it lasted. It wouldn't be long before this all turned
for the worst and we were back at each other's throats. Time was the real enemy here.

“So tell me your story.” He said after a gulp of juice.

“Pardon?”

“Tell me your life story.”

“Why? It's rather boring…”

“I don't care. Just go on and tell me everything about you up until this point. Then we can
trade home horror stories or something equally as corny.”

I smiled. “It might take a while…”

He shrugged. “I don't care, just talk.”

And so I did. I started with before I came to Hogwarts, how my horrible aunts and cousins were
my least favorite people, closely followed by him. I even told him about life after the troll
incident, and how I buried myself deeper in my studies. I talked about everything, and he just sat
there and listened. No interruptions, but maybe a small laugh or smile once in a while. I
didn't tell him, however, about Joe Bloggs. No one besides Sue knew about him, and I wanted to
keep it that way. I don't think he expected me to reveal every tiny detail, anyway. But if he
did, he would be very disappointed.

By the time I finished, I could tell it was nearly the end of classes. As if to prove me right,
Potter looked at his watch and whistled low in his throat.

“Looks like we're going to have to save this for another time.”

I tried to hide my disappointment, but didn't do a very good job. He didn't say
anything, though, surprising me once more with how much effort he was putting into this impromptu
not-date. I helped him clean up, though I knew that the room would probably manage well enough by
itself. We were both stalling. And the funny thing is that I went along with it. Me, the one living
person in this world who hated Potter more than anyone else, was helping stall our time together.
Call the Daily Prophet, alert the loony bin!

It was a joke.

We exited the room together and took a quick look around before making our way back to our
common room. Our trip was silent, but not the tense kind that usually surrounded the two of us. It
was nice, a relief. He hadn't tricked me or tried anything sneaky. It was just an afternoon
spent by two people skipping class. I laughed silently to myself, thinking about the irony of it
all. Wait until Sue heard about this.

He voiced the password to Marie and she shot me a knowing smile. What she knew, I wasn't
sure, but I ignored it as we entered. Potter had carried my bag the entire way back, and now set it
on one of the armchairs near the fireplace. We both collapsed onto the sofa.

“I have to say that I'm impressed.” I said honestly.

He smiled cheekily over at me. “See? I told you I'm not such a bad guy.”

“I still don't forgive you, though.”

He sighed heavily. “I figured, and I don't really expect you too. For a while, that is.”

“And what's that supposed to mean?” He swiftly got off of the couch and I straightened up to
see him walking back upstairs. “What do you have up your sleeve, Potter?”

He didn't even bother correcting me, but instead turned around with a boyish grin. “I
don't know what you're talking about, Hermione.”

But before I could retort, he climbed the stairs up to his room. And then I did the last thing I
thought I'd ever do around or because of him.

I laughed.

-->



13. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Hair
------------------------------------------



**A/N:** **So for those of you who read my Tumblr, you know that I was unable to post a
chapter last week. And, if you checked back yesterday, you got a little sneak peak of what was in
store for this little devil :] I finished it on Saturday and sent it to my lovely new beta,
Vincent! I want to thank him endlessly for his efforts, making this chapter even better than it was
before (if I do say so myself). So buckle your seatbelts, kids. It's going to be a bumpy,
URST-y ride.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter would only be mine if I moved to England, invented a cloning device,
replicated JKR, and took all the money for myself. Not that I'm planning that or
anything…**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Hair**

*Dear Joe Bloggs,*

*I know we haven't written each other in a while, but I need to talk to someone about this
new—erm, friend-person-type-thing that I have. I've hated him for years and now all of a
sudden, we're on a regular talking basis. It started a few weeks ago when he found me in a
compro**mising position (don't ask). A**ll of a sudden* *he* *wanted to
make amends and fix everything between the two of us. We have a history, you see. Long story short,
he pretty much made my life a living hell for six years. I still haven't forgiven him for what
he's done, obviously, but that doesn't stop me from talking to him as if he were my best
friend. Despite my earlier feelings of resentment towards him, he still somehow* *manages to
make* *me laugh. I really don**'t know what to do. Y**ou**'re the only
one I trust to give me good advice. S**eeing* *as you have no idea who I am,* *you
have no chance of being biased**. All I need to know is if I should keep this new relationship
between the two of us friendly, or just tell him to back off. The past cannot be changed, and
that's what I've been hanging onto for all these years. But now that he's acting this
way towards me, I don't know whether to be suspicious or happy that he's finally acquired a
sensitivity chip.*

*Love,**
Anonymous**.*

*Dear Anonymous,*

*It sounds to me that you have a case of what I like to call, Conscience Takeover. Let me
guess, you have internal battles with yourself whenever the two of you talk. You want to say one
thing, but your other half that's still hanging onto your bumpy past* *wants to tell him
to bugger off.* *There's only one sol**ution for a problem like this: f**ollow
your instincts.* *I would say “follow your heart,”* *but that's horribly cheesy,
isn't it? The fact is that you still have repre**ssed feelings of hate or something
similar* *towards him. Now, from an outside person's perspective, it would seem that
he's getting a bit ahead of himself if he thinks he can get a pistol like you to even come
close to considering him a friend. But as a victim of the same type of situation, I have to admire
his bravery. Even if he's doing it for wrong reasons**,* *it take**s* *a
lot of guts to try and make amends with someone you've been*
*`**programmed**'* *to hate, so to speak. Since I don't know the guy
personally, I* *unfortunately* *can't tell you what his tr**ue intentions
are.* *I think you should give him a shot* *though**. If you've hated him for
this long, what's giving him a chance going to do? You've got nothing to lose. Just go to
it head on and get to know the bloke. If it turns out I'm wrong, you have full liberty
t**o kick both him and me in the bo**llocks.*

*Love**,* *
Joe Bloggs*

And that is how I started spending more time with one Harry Potter. I thought it easier to go to
Joe about this than Sue or my mum. He was an outsider, someone who knew nothing about our past or
who we were. Plus, he didn't have the questions “Oh, you're talking about a *boy*?
What's his name? How old is he? Do you like him?” programmed into his brain, unlike *some*
people I knew. If I told him my name was Hermione Granger and that for a long while I wanted to
single handedly tear Harry Potter's balls off, I wouldn't get the same kind of advice. I
would most likely earn a place in St. Mungo's with some other mentally unstable witches and
wizards. It's a good thing I'm clever and know to think ahead or who knows where I would be
right now.

Back to the point, Joe's advice actually worked. Not that I doubted it, but I was a bit iffy
about `getting to know' him. Can you really blame me, though? If you thought for a minute that
I was going to jump into his arms and announce to the world that we were going to be best mates for
life, you need a trip to the loony bin even more than I do. It takes a while to mend a past like
ours. The only thing that stopped me from changing my mind was that he kept coming back. He never
wavered, never gave up, never tried anything funny. For the last few weeks, it was just the two of
us, which came as a relief because when I was around him. In the past I was used to dealing with
two people: him and his ego. His enormous head was still there, but not as engorged as I thought it
was. No pun intended.

Cue the cheesy montage track; you're about to enter a play-by-play.

It had been a killer few weeks to say the least. If there was one thing Harry Potter was not, it
was a quitter. He had taken every opportunity he could wrap his hands around and used it to spend
time with me, to make amends. And though I don't want to admit it—it was kind of working. We
hadn't gotten into an argument since he turned on suck-up mode and left behind his asshole
tendencies. Even the small stuff he was doing helped. Here, let me think of some examples to help
you better understand what I'm talking about.

During our patrols together, we wouldn't just look out for horny school kids, we would talk.
Not like the kind of conversation we had our first time patrolling the corridors, but *actual*
exchanging of words that had no anger or frustration laced in them. It was a relief, actually, to
not yell at him. I never noticed it before, but my voice had grown hoarse from all of the yelling I
had done. It was a good thing I wasn't a singer or something or else I would be really
screwed.

He had taken to sitting next me during some meals. I didn't notice until I felt someone
glaring at me that he left behind his usual posse to voluntarily be in my company. Weasley shot
glares that could cut through bullet-proof glass at the two of us on the days Harry chose to sit
next to me. But it wasn't like it was an everyday occurrence, maybe a few times a week, at
breakfast, lunch, or dinner. It's funny because… hang on, are you even listening? What the hell
do you think I—oh. I know what you're thinking so hard about. No, you didn't hear me wrong,
I just called him Harry. I kind of have to now. About a week after we started being around each
other more, he made me swear on *Hogwarts: a History* that I would call him Harry both
consciously and unconsciously. He looked completely serious when he said he would burn the book, so
I don't doubt for a second that he would follow through. So take a few minutes to let that sink
in and I'll continue talking.

Are you done now? Okay, good.

As I was saying, Weasley never seemed happy that Harry and I were talking. He was the one who
wanted to protect Harry from fame seeking leeches, I know, but it still seemed stupid to shoot
daggers at two people who are trying to hold a conversation. In time, I learned to ignore him. It
wasn't too difficult, seeing as Harry and I could never go two minutes without talking about
something. I honestly had never thought I could talk to someone so much in person, but I guess
there's a first time for everything. Who knew that the first person I connected with would be
him?

When professors began to pile coursework on us before winter holidays, Harry had come to me for
help. Yeah, I know, it's shocking. I was a bit awestruck when he asked in the first place,
mouth agape and everything. He snapped me out of it though, quite literally. He bonked me lightly
on the head with his Potions textbook and soon after we got down to business. He had struggles in
both Potions and History of Magic for the most part. He told me that any subject where you
aren't required to perform magic equals lack of concentration from his end. I taught him that
the key to performing magic is understanding it. If you don't know how it works fully, you
might misuse it. Most wizards in history tried to look past this and ended up blowing their fingers
off or worse, a fact he should have picked up in History of Magic. The same goes with Potions; if
you don't know why certain ingredients go well together, you'll never make a fully
functional composite. He seemed to take well to my advice, because on the last exams for both
classes he got perfect scores (a fact Professor Snape still hasn't fully grasped).

But with end-of-term exams, came winter holidays. I had elected to stay behind once again to get
some much needed relaxation time. Harry, on the other hand, was going with Weasley back to his
house to spend some time with their family. In one of our more deep conversations he confessed that
the Weasley's have been the closest thing to family he's ever known. I couldn't help
but feel sorry for him. I may get annoyed with my parents on occasion, but that doesn't mean
I'm not thankful. I couldn't imagine a life where they weren't there.

The scene as saw him off at Hogsmeade Station was like something out of a book. The snow was
falling in thick flakes, piling atop the roofs and concrete that made it look like we were
surrounded by marshmallows. The train was blowing gray puffs of smoke that lingered in the air, the
wind blowing them around in tiny swirls. I had given Harry a hug goodbye, a first for the two of
us. It was short, yet lingering in some ways. He pulled back with a sad smile and touched the
bridge of my nose lightly with his finger in a playful gesture. His cold skin made me flinch.

“Have a good holiday, Hermione.” He said softly.

I smiled back at him and replied in all sincerity, “You too, Harry.”

Then he was gone, finally listening to Weasley's calls to get aboard the train before it
left. Was it bad that I let my eyes linger on him as he left? No, of course not it was just reality
setting in, that's all. This would be the first time we were going to be apart since we started
getting along. It hurt a bit, that's all. I'd never watched a friend-person-type-thing walk
away before. I was simply observing and calculating so a feeling like this wouldn't sneak up on
me again. What exactly this feeling was, I'm not sure. But that was what the analyzing was for.
Or that was the excuse I was making. You never know with a mind like mine. All I knew was that my
stomach had never felt as though it were being squeezed by the hand of a giant.

A week had gone by since then. I bet now he was off somewhere with one of the Weasley's,
playing Quidditch in their backyard pitch he'd told me about. The temperature was nearly in the
negatives, but I knew that wouldn't keep him from getting on his broom and flying about. You
know boys and their toys. I was perfectly content curled up by the fireplace with my book.
Crookshanks was off somewhere chasing mice. Now that I had free time, I had taken my favorite cat
out and about the castle, even showing him the Room of Requirement. It wasn't much of a shock
when I opened the door to find hills of cat nip and fuzzy enchanted toys filling the room. Speaking
of the magical chamber, I had made quite a few trips in and out lately when I got especially bored
and was in need of a place to think, only venturing in there when I was sure I needed it. Like I
said before, if the room was ever overused, it would lose its magic. In fact, the room was the
entire reason I had written Joe in the first place. The night after Harry and I had our little
picnic, I ventured there in search of an answer to the billion questions running about my head. I
knew the room couldn't tell me anything, but it was worth a shot. After three trips past the
wall and an open mind, I opened the door to see a desk decorated with a bunch of parchment and a
single quill. I took the hint and began to write.

Now, a week later, I feel like one of those film cliché's, sitting here like this with an
open book. Here I was, alone in an empty common room with only my frisky cat to keep me company,
when my newly deemed acquaintance was off having a great time with his self appointed family. I
didn't mind, though, because the one thing I needed to do to accomplish the cheesy setting was
moon over some guy. Oh, wait. Damn it, never mind. Thanks a heap, Joe; you've turned me into a
pathetic movie heroine. All I needed now was a hot kissing scene and we were in business. I laughed
at that. Like *I* would get any action cooped up in this tower like some kind of Rapunzel,
save the overly long blonde locks.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.

I felt the cushion beside me move and turned to see Crookshanks' beady eyes gazing at me
with the “I'm hungry” look. I sighed and put down my book before heading up to get some cat nip
out of my trunk. I never gave him food unless it was mealtime. He had been putting on some weight
lately and had trouble climbing the stairs. He had always been pudgy but not to the point where he
was out of shape. The cat nip was buried beneath my box of letters from Joe so he couldn't get
into it. Think I'm paranoid? You haven't seen Crookshanks when he hasn't been fed—he
goes berserk. Smart cat plus unlocked trunk equals bad things, let me tell you. I had to buy three
new pairs of socks after he found his stash of nip inside of a few pairs of extra winter
hosiery.

I pulled out the bag and took a small helping out before closing the trunk and heading for the
door, but something stopped me before I could walk any further. In the corner of my eye, I caught a
glimpse of something shiny. Nothing in my room had ever shined before, so it was enough to get me
to turn abruptly around. Upon my bed was a box encased in silver and gold wrappings, tiny
snowflakes letting off the occasional twinkle from their random places around the pattern. I
stepped cautiously towards the package and saw a note tied to it by a white ribbon. Setting the cat
nip down, I let curiosity override my better judgment.

I untied the note gingerly and unfolded it. Written in black ink were the words, *Your
Welcome*. That was it, just two words, eleven letters. I was thoroughly confused, as the
handwriting looked to be charmed, the writing moving slightly to give me a hint. Whoever had sent
me this package obviously didn't want to be known, which made me nervous. I looked back at the
shiny wrappings and bit my lip. To open or not to open, that was the question. Eeny, meeny, miny,
mo…

Before I could think any different, I tore open the package and found a plain white box. It
wasn't taped, so I removed the lid and moved aside the tissue paper. What was hidden beneath
took my breath away, literally. I couldn't find the will to inhale. It was only when I began to
see stars that I could bring myself to take in oxygen. There, folded carefully onto itself, was the
dress I had fallen in love with in Hogsmeade. The very same one I saw myself walking into the ball
with, Joe's eyes on me like a hungry tiger. It was here. I reached out to touch it, convinced
it must have been a hologram or charm of some kind, but my hand came into contact with the same
fabric that had felt so amazing on my skin.

“Oh Merlin.” I said in a whimper.

Whoever bought me this dress must have seen me try it on. There was no way anyone else could
simply pick out a dress and send it to me at random. But who would do such a thing? No one was
there in the store with me other than the saleslady, and she certainly doesn't give away
dresses for free, or else she'd have no business. And then it hit me—I had felt someone's
eyes on me when I was at the mirrors, but when I turned, there was no one there. My paranoia had
actually been right about something. Someone had been watching me through the shop window, and
whoever it was saw that I was unable to pay for it and took it upon themselves to spend an enormous
amount of galleons on it. Again, the question remained: who?

I let my hand trail down the fabric and shook my head. This was ridiculous, what was I thinking?
I couldn't just accept the dress when I didn't know who sent it to me in the first place. I
remember how expensive it was. Whoever gave me this dress was either both filthy rich and a natural
do-gooder, or had other motives that weren't so innocent.

*Stop thinking too much!* My mind screamed. *You've got the dress of your dreams
right in front of you. What's with all the suspicion?*

*Well,* the more logical side of my brain answered, *for one, you have no idea who
it's from.*

*So? What's that got to do with anything?*

*It could be cursed, torn, hexed, the wrong size… the list is endless, really.*

*But it's* here*, right now. You never thought in a million years that you would be
able to wear it after seeing the price. And now, when luck is finally on your side, and someone
decided that you were going to be their good deed of the day, you come up with a billion reasons
why* not *to accept it. Live a little, Granger!*

*Yeah, but—*

*Enough with the `but's. Just picture that scene again. You, descending the staircase like
a scene out of Cinderella, all glittery and pretty while everyone turns their head to look at you.
You feel heat rise up in your cheeks when you reach the floor and see Joe standing there waiting
for you, his eyes penetrating through his plain black mask.* *He takes your hand, you dance,
you kiss. It's the perfect night—and all that you need to do to make it a reality is accept
that dress.*

*That seems a little obscene. How do you know that that's how it's going to end up if
I just let all of these superstitious go and take the dress?*

*I don't. But it'll be closer to that picture than if you turn your back to an
opportunity like this one. Chicken* *out* *or go?*

I let out a frustrated groan, stopping the internal battle of my conscience. Is it sad that
I'm not even worrying about two voices in my head going at it? Never mind, don't answer
that. I had enough on my plate already. I tore my eyes from the dress and put the top back on. If I
couldn't make up my mind now, I would just put it away for later. There was still a good week
and a half before the dance, so I had plenty of time to decide later. I placed it at the bottom of
my nearly empty wooden wardrobe and shut the door. Putting it away made it better. Easier.

I let out a sigh and picked up the catnip from my bed, bunching it up in my fist. I shot one
last fleeting glance at the wardrobe as I neared my open doorway, letting my brain start up again
with mushy romantic pictures of the ball. As soon as I got to the part where Joe was about to kiss
me, I heard a loud noise come from downstairs. My heart leapt into my throat at the disturbance and
I rushed down the stone staircase without a second though, convincing myself along the way that it
was just Crookshanks playing with the table lamp again.

But as I reached the carpet, I stopped in an abrupt halt and dropped two things: the catnip
clutched so tightly in my hand, and my jaw. There, looking as though he had been drained of about
three nights of sleep, was Harry. He had on a pair of jeans with newly torn holes. The only reason
I could tell was that on the places where skin was revealed, there were purple bruises covering
most of the area. The same went for his red, long sleeved Gryffindor Quidditch tee-shirt, which
looked like it had been attacked by a chicken claw. His face was covered in stitches and he had a
black rim forming around his left eye. All resignation left me as I blurted the first think that
came to mind.

“Oh *Harry*. What happened to you?”

I don't know why that statement came out, but it worked perfectly. His head craned to look
at me and I saw the tiredness in his eyes. “It's a long story.”

I shook my head. “Nonsense,” I said, grabbing his hand. I led him over to the couch, mindful of
his injuries. “You're going to sit right here and tell me *exactly* what happened.”

He sighed, knowing that arguing was a moot point. He adjusted his position on the couch so that
he could face me better and I mirrored him. “I went flying and…”

“Wait, hold that thought.” I interrupted as I spotted a trickle of blood falling down from one
of the stitches on his cheek. “You're bleeding.”

“What?” He asked, raising a hand up to his cheek to wipe it off.

I caught his hand with mine and shoved it into his lap. “Don't touch it. That might make it
worse. Hold on a second, alright? Don't move.”

He nodded and I made my way upstairs. I opened the bathroom door and grabbed the tin waste bin I
had emptied earlier that day and a washcloth. Then going to my room, I took my wand out from its
place on my bedside table, heading back downstairs as quickly as I could. I saw Harry still sitting
in the same place and circled around to check if he had smeared the blood away. He didn't.

I sat back down and filled the bin with a quick *Aguamenti.* I tested the temperature and
mumbled a quick heating charm to make sure Harry didn't jump off the couch as though he had
been hit with an iceberg. I instructed him to turn his head to me as I dipped the washcloth in the
water. He obeyed and I began to dab the wound with the cloth.

“So tell me all about how you got these stitches.” I said calmly.

“Well as I said before, I was flying. It wasn't for Quidditch or anything; I just wanted to
be alone for a while, to think about things. I was about twenty or thirty feet above the ground,
circling the pitch, when I lost control. You could say I let my mind wander a bit. I didn't
realize I had also been steering outside of the path I had been circling and was above a thicket of
thorns. I pulled the broom up just in time to stop a head injury, but I still have a few cuts and
bruises from the collision.”

I snorted. “To put it lightly.”

He smiled for a moment and returned to his tale. “Charlie, one of Ron's brothers, found me
about an hour after they realized I wasn't in the house. I was semi-conscious at that point, so
I could hear Mrs. Weasley screaming in terror. She thought I had been attacked by rogue Death
Eaters or something. Charlie explained that he saw my broom with me and guessed that I had crashed.
She panicked nonetheless and rushed me to St. Mungo's. I fell asleep as soon as we got there
and somehow I got transferred to the hospital wing here. Madame Pomfrey fixed me up well enough,
aside from one stitch apparently.”

I chuckled and rinsed the wash cloth out as I finished up tenderly cleaning his wound.

“I've been in there for about two days, sleeping it off. I was released about ten minutes
ago and came straight here. I haven't even dared to look at my reflection. I must look a
wreck.”

“It's not too bad.” I said. “You just look like you wrestled a miniature dragon is all.”

“I really need to stop getting mixed up with those things. They're horrible for my
image.”

“And health…”

“Oh yeah, and my health.”

I rolled my eyes and dropped the bloody cloth into the water, now finished with my impromptu
cleaning job. I had managed to clean the blood off before it had time to dry and hadn't unwound
any of the stitches. For someone who had no nursing experience whatsoever, I had to admire my job.
It looked like the blood that had been leaking was caused by a small opening in his wound. I was
surprised it wasn't still leaking, to be honest. But as soon as I pulled up to look him back in
the eyes, I saw a slight glimmer from the wound. I wrote it off as nothing and kept talking.

“And there you go.” I said brightly. “All finished.”

“Thanks, Hermione. You didn't need to do that.”

“I couldn't have you bleed to death, now could I?”

“Oh, you're right. Hermione, you are a saint for saving my head.”

I punched him on his shoulder and saw him flinch in pain. I immediately regretted my reaction
and began apologizing. “I'm *so* sorry.”

“It's fine.”

It was obvious he was lying by the way his teeth were still tightly clenched. “Bollocks.”

He snorted. “Well look what we have here… Hermione Granger cursing.”

I let a shy smile creep up. “Shut up.”

I shook my head a few times and brought it up only after the embarrassing pink tinge to my
cheeks was gone. Well that was a first. He made me blush. But all thoughts of any small thing like
that quickly drained from my mind as I caught him staring at me, his green eyes a few shades darker
than they had been a moment before. Although I'm not entirely sure why, I couldn't tear my
eyes away. It was like he was hypnotizing me.

Holy crap.

We stayed like that for a while, just staring at each other. I could feel the mood change from
innocent to, well, not-so-innocent. It was like our eyes were glued or something. We only broke
contact to blink and nothing else. You would think that a moment like this would make me nervous.
Well, it did, a little. I'd never thought that two people could just stare at each other
without talking for so long.

I saw him lift a hand to my cheek, his lightly calloused hands warm against my already heated
skin. I let my eyes flicker to his hand for a moment before meeting his eyes again. If I didn't
know any better I'd say he was closer than he was a moment ago. Oh, he *was* getting
closer! I knew where this was heading and knew I had to stop it before it got dangerous.

“Harry, wait.”

My voice came out breathy, a fact I wasn't expecting. He stopped suddenly and a guilty look
passed over his features as he turned his eyes from mine, but his hand remained where it was.

His voice was husky. “Sorry, I just…”

“Yeah.”

I don't know how, but my eyes had unconsciously dropped to his lips. They looked slightly
chapped. He must have realized that I was staring, because his tongue came out and he licked his
lips. I felt my heart begin to increase in rate as the air around us returned to a dangerous
territory. We were playing with fire, and sooner or later, someone was going to get burned.

I blinked a few times and removed my gaze from his lips. Harry's eyes had returned to the
same dark green as a few moments ago. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried my best to remain
calm. It wasn't easy. In fact, it wasn't even close to easy. It was like trying to keep the
positive and negative ends of a magnet from attracting. So, in other words, I was doomed.

After a few more moments of silence, the magnets gave up on trying to avoid attraction. I let
out a small mumble of “We can't… do… this…” before the magnates collided.

I tried to stop myself, but Harry swooped in and captured my lips with his, silencing any
thoughts I had otherwise. They felt like two soft petals as they moved against mine slowly. It felt
good. *Really* good. His hand moved from my cheek to cradle the back of my neck. I put my arms
around his shoulders out of reflex to make sure the feeling, and Harry, didn't go away. When we
were like this, it was if the world around us ceased to exit. Like nothing mattered. His hands
trailed to my waist as he pulled me closer to him. Our clothes bodies collided as I felt his tongue
touch the seam of my lips. I opened my mouth to him. Our tongues melted together in a sensual dance
and I took a deep breath through my nose.

I had never felt anything quite like this before. Nothing could compare to this moment.

Our mouths continued to devour each other as I felt Harry pull me onto him lap as if I weighed
no more than a feather. I pulled back for a moment to regain my breath and heard his heavy
breathing sync with mine. My eyes had drifted closed at some point and I didn't want to open
them, or more specifically, I couldn't find the will to. If I did, this would all became real
instead of just a moment. I pressed my lips back against his and we continued our dance. What
started off as tender, soft kisses soon became more heated as I began to rock my hips against him
in rhythm with our tongues. It was pure instinct. I never thought instinct could make me feel so
alive, so empowered.

We were floating on our own cloud, unaware of the reality around us. But moments like this can
never last when you're in the heat of the moment, treading on unfamiliar territory. As soon as
I felt his arousal press against my inner thigh, my eyes opened and I saw the situation for what it
really was. It was *Harry and I* on the couch, *Harry and I* snogging, *Harry and I*
moving against each other as if we were about to—oh Merlin.

I pulled back, breathless and foggy of mind. His eyes were still closed as I stared at him, his
cheeks flushed. As I took a moment to scan his face, I saw the wounds once more. What had started
out as a moment of comfort had somehow turned into a moment of, dare I say it, *lust*.

Harry's eyes drifted open as his breathing returned to normal. His hands were still on my
hips, and mine around his shoulder blades. Our bodies were becoming stiff with realization and I
began to tug away from him, wanting to get away before I snapped.

His grip tightened on my waist as he whispered. “Hermione, please…”

“Let go of me.” I said calmly. His arms grew limp and I unraveled from his embrace. I steadied
myself on the arm of a nearby chair as I stood. My feet began to pace the room, not knowing what to
do. I looked back over at him to see him bowing his head like a boy who had just earned a time-out.
I started to wonder why he looked so ashamed when it hit me—the promise.

“You promised.” I whispered. His back stiffened and I breathed in heavily, getting more air into
my brain. “You—you promised not to try anything.”

“I know.” He said weakly.

“But we just… we just—”

“Kissed?”

I nodded meekly. “Yeah, yeah we did.” I paused for a moment, trying to make sense of it all.
“Why? Why did you do it?”

He lifted his head to look at me oddly. “*Me*? You were just as much of a participant as I
was.”

I frowned. “Well you made the first move before I stopped you.”

“So?”

“So if you didn't do that, we would be in this situation to begin with.”

“That's bollocks,” He said defiantly. “It was bound to be one of us. I know you felt the
electricity. It was like two—umm… two…” He began to snap his fingers, in search of an answer.

“Magnets?” I supplied out of reflex.

He snapped a final time and pointed at me. “Yes, magnets! It was like two magnets trying to
resist each other's field.”

I knew he was right, but that doesn't mean I was happy about it. “Not even a month ago I
swore to hate you, and then just as we were becoming friends, *this* happens and ruins
*everyt**h**ing*.”

He stood and I had to back up a few inches to avoid colliding with him. “It doesn't have to,
Hermione.”

“Are you suggesting we forget about this, then?”

“Of course not! It's just… I know that our relationship hasn't been the best, but we
can't let one slip up ruin everything that I—that *we've* been working for.”

“And what's that?”

He took a step closer and I remained where I was, knowing he wouldn't do anything rash.
“Us.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I'm not sure I get what you mean.”

“Hermione, why do you think I initiated this whole thing?” I didn't answer, simply because I
had no idea. “I was sick of the fighting, sick of the hatred. I wanted to get to know you, the
*real* you. Turns out that you're not so bad.”

I smiled shyly. “You're not so bad yourself.”

He nodded slowly. “And that's the thing. After talking things out, we've sort of grown
an attachment. What happened just now was chemical, a technicality.”

“So you're saying that we kissed because of a *technicality*?”

“No! I—I didn't mean that. I kissed you because I wanted to, Hermione, not because it was in
the stars or something.”

I let out a breath and felt my face heat up again. “Harry I—I don't know what to say.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Then don't say anything. I'm not expecting anything from
you, Hermione. But now you know. I don't do things just because I'm told to, contrary to
popular belief.”

I licked my lips and met his eyes for the first time since we pulled apart. They were back to
their normal emerald green shade. “So where do we go from here?”

“Wherever you want it, too, sweet cheeks.”

I collapsed into the chair nearest to me and allowed my body to relax. I heard Harry take up his
former place on the couch. I tried my best not to let my brain go into overdrive as we sat there in
silence. But there was one thing that pushed its way through my conscience thoughts. Throughout
that entire escapade, I had completely forgotten about Joe. I tried not to let it show on my face,
but unfortunately with Harry's perceptiveness, I stood no chance.

“What's wrong?” I didn't answer him, avoiding his eyes. “Ohh I get it. There's
someone else.”

I snapped my neck over to him. “How did you—”

“Male intuition.”

I sighed and slumped further into the chair. “I'm sorry.”

“So who's the guy?”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me.” He said with a smile. “Who's the lucky guy?”

I bit my lip, inwardly deciding whether or not to tell him anything. Honestly, my brain still
wasn't in the right of mind yet, so it wasn't a good idea to be making a decision in the
first place. Plus, Harry and I had only been getting closer for a few weeks. I hadn't even told
my *mum* yet. The only person who knew was Sue. Plus the fact that my feelings towards Joe had
never really been expressed aloud in the first place, let alone in the presence of someone who
thought I was a worthy snogging partner.

I looked over at Harry to see him watching me expectantly. I sighed and made up my mind.

“His name is Joe…”

-->



14. Good Morning Sunshine, The Earth Says 'Hello'
-------------------------------------------------



**A/N: I'm afraid I have some bad news. This week I'm heading off to New York for a few
days and won't be back until Sunday morning. I really hope I have time to write whilst I'm
there, but you never know. I just thought I should give you a heads up. In other less depressing
news, I totally forgot to mention the two readers who guessed where my inspiration for the HHR
bathroom scene came from! The two winners were an** **Anonymous** **reviewer, so they know
who they are, and** **Celi****a.** **Congrats, guys! For those who were pulling their hair
out in agony, the answer was my favorite TV show** **Skins** **-** **Season 2, Episode
2****.** **Great job guys! Another shout out goes to my beta, Vincent. Without him, this
chapter wouldn't have had the killer ending and hilarious comparisons between males and blocks
of ice. Yeah, just get on reading already so you can see :]**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. I'm not even British! Although, I can do a
killer impersonation with my talent for accents.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Good Morning Sunshine, the Earth Says “Hello”**

“Joe?”

“Yes, Joe.”

“That's a stupid name.”

I grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it at him. He caught it with a wide grin and I scowled,
folding my arms across my chest like a child who had just gotten their sweets taken away. He
chuckled and threw the pillow back at me. It landed in my lap and I placed my hands atop it,
looking at him pointedly.

He gave in sooner than I thought. “Alright, I'm sorry.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Giving up so easily?”

He shrugged meekly. “The more time I spend on his name, the less information I get out of
you.”

“And who said anything about you getting information out of me?”

“The stars.”

I snorted.

“And what's so funny about that?” He asked incredulously.

I remained silent and shook my head, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing. The more I
could keep him distracted, the less I had to divulge. Joe was supposed to be my secret, but he
wouldn't be for very long if I told Harry anything more. The only problem was that he had a
huge advantage over me since my head was still spinning. I wasn't even sure why I had begun
this conversation in the first place, but here I was. I guess that in a way, this whole thing had
started because of my guilty conscience for betraying Joe. I knew it wasn't official or
anything, but it still felt like I was cheating. It wouldn't make sense in any other way I put
it. It was one of those things you can't feel unless you experience it for yourself. The only
thing I could compare it to was school at the moment, and we all know how well those analogies go
for me, so I'm not going to bother.

I sunk deeper into the chair and pulled my knees up to my chest, trying my best to remain
silent. It wasn't a hard feat, but there was a tugging feeling in my gut that told me to talk
to Harry, to help him understand. Now, I have absolutely no idea where this notion came from, but I
didn't like it. The trust I'd had for him had been seriously dented in the last five
minutes, and I didn't feel like testing the grounds again anytime soon. I would just remain
silent, and, if it came down to it, would give him a clipped version of events.

He smacked his lips together. “Fine, if that's how you want it. Now I'm turning on full
interrogation mode. Who is this Joe person, really? Do I know him?”

I shrugged, knowing I was telling the truth. If I didn't know who Joe was, I'm pretty
sure Harry wouldn't, either. Unless he was a Seer or something, in which case, I would most
likely jump on him for answers.

“Does he go to Hogwarts, or is he one of those foreign guys with an accent and sex appeal that
girls just can't resist?”

I held back a smile at his comment. “He goes here.”

“What house is he in?”

I bit my lip, trying to think of a quick remark that wouldn't raise suspicion. It's not
as easy as it sounds with no anger to fuel my retorts. A few weeks ago, I would've thought of
something to say as quickly as a niffler could sniff out a galleon. But now…

“Are you looking to hunt him down or something, what's with all the questions?”

He held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Just curious, that's all. I'll stick
with the bare minimum of information from now on. What do you feel for this Joe guy, is he your
boyfriend?”

I shook my head lightly. “Not really, I don't think.”

“What does that mean, exactly? How could you not know if he's your boyfriend?”

“Well we haven't really talked about it. I don't even know how he feels about me, and
I'm pretty sure my feelings are just as much of a mystery to him. The only thing I'm sure
of is that I…” I trailed off, wondering if I should say it.

“You what?” Harry asked quietly.

I looked up at him and saw his face contort into one of curiosity. I had never really said my
feelings for Joe out loud before, and Harry seemed more than willing to listen to them. I took a
deep intake of breath and let out the three words that summed up how much he meant to me: “I love
him.”

An unreadable look passed over his features. He remained silent and I felt the overwhelming urge
to explain myself. Before I could stop, the words came out in a flurry.

“He's probably the one guy in the entire school—hell, maybe in this entire world, that likes
me for me. He's smart, funny, and an all around a good person. Plus, he can make me laugh with
only a few words, which is impressive. And he—oh Merlin, I'm sorry, I'm totally deflating
your ego, aren't I?”

He looked at me with the same unreadable face and shook his head. “It's quite the opposite,
actually. You—you said that you don't know how he feels about you. How does that work?”

“He's never told me. Granted, I've never told him anything either, but that's just
how I am. He's told me small things, hints I guess you could call them. But never the three
words I want to hear. It's like he's beating around the bush. We both are. Too afraid to
say anything, but wanting more than anything to speak. That's guys for you, though. Never
saying their feelings for you straightforward and making you think more than necessary, giving you
cryptic messages that only a puzzle master could decipher.”

“That's not entirely true. Some guys do.”

“Yes, well, Joe's not one of those guys, I guess.” I said sadly. “If he only knew that the
one thing I wanted from him was to hear his feelings, I'm sure things would be different.”

He nodded. “Indeed they would.”

There was a pregnant silence after that, and I knew that somewhere along the way I had made
Harry uncomfortable. He was only human, after all. A *male* human at that.

“I'm sorry that you had to hear all of my girly feelings, Harry.”

He chuckled. “It's alright, I'll live.”

“You asked for it.”

“That I did.”

I looked over at the window and saw that the sun was setting behind the forbidden forest, making
a beautiful blend of orange, pink, purple, and yellow colors in the sky. I gazed at the colors for
a moment and let my mind go blank. It felt nice to have told someone my feelings. He didn't
know of our entire situation yet, but he was the first person I confessed my feelings to. It felt
nice to have told someone, and I knew that he wouldn't tell anyone. I may not fully trust him,
but I do enough to know that he has *some* common sense in that thick skull of his.

As if he read my mind, Harry spoke up in a firm voice. “I won't tell anyone.”

I nodded, still looking at the window. “I know you won't, because if you do, I might have to
kill you.”

He started laughing and my neck snapped over to him. “I'm serious!”

“I know.” He said wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “That's what's so
funny.”

I took the abused pillow we had been throwing at each other and chucked it back at him. He was
too busy laughing that he didn't notice I threw it until it hit him square in the face. He
immediately stopped laughing and I saw his face scrunch up in pain for a moment.

“Oh Harry, I'm sorry! I did it *again*.” I rushed over to make sure that I didn't
cause his stitches to bleed again.

“It's fine, Hermione. I'm alright.”

I was already on the couch beside him and grabbed his chin to tilt his head every which way,
making sure I didn't cause any damage. He appeared to be fine and I released him before the
atmosphere changed again. We didn't want a repeat of *that*, did we?

*Oh you know you do.*

I shook the annoying voice out of my head and tried to bring up another conversation. “What I
find interesting, is how you managed to get to the hospital wing. Surely St. Mungo's would have
been a better place to treat your injuries.”

“That's what I thought, but I don't really know anything. I think I heard Molly say
something about not wanting the media to catch wind that I had gotten hurt or something like
that.”

I nodded. “Well that would make sense. I could just see the headlines now, *Harry Potter
Defeated by a Thorn Bush, How the Hero is Coping with His Latest Conqueror*.”

He smiled. “That would be an interesting outcome. Next thing you know, I'd be getting a
lawyer and suing the bush for sexual harassment.”

“The bush would win, obviously, because you'd be too busy talking up a nearby fruit
tree.”

“Hey, it's not my fault that she had a nice pair of melons.”

“Melons don't grow on trees, Harry.”

“Really? Well she's got some serious explaining to do, then.”

“They could have just as easily been apples.”

“Bullshit.”

Next thing we knew, the two of us were on the floor laughing. Over fruit. What exactly had I
gotten myself into?

Within a few minutes, Harry and I had rolled closer to one another. We were both on our stomachs
and facing the warmth of the fire. This silence was a comfortable one. It was just us, staring at
the flames. If I didn't know any better, I'd think we were avoiding something. No, of
course we weren't. We were just relaxing by the fire, that was all.

“I should clean myself up.” He said, breaking the silence. “I think I've been in the same
clothes for three days.”

“Well, you do smell.”

He gave me a sour look and stood up, brushing invisible lint from his pants and shirt. “I
don't get why they didn't change me when I was unconscious.”

“Maybe they were afraid they'd be disappointed.” I shot a meaningful look towards his
mid-area and saw his face begin to flush.

“Are you insinuating that I'm not well developed or something? Because I'll have you
know that—”

“Relax, Harry. I meant that the tattoo on your chest would turn out to be just a rumor.”

His face turned a deeper shade of red. “Liar”

“You will never know.”

He stuck his tongue out at me childishly and turned to head up to his room. I watched him go and
rolled my eyes. He could really be a smartass sometimes, but then again, so could I. But something
about that conversation struck me as odd. Throughout the whole time I was ranting about Joe, he
never seemed to get glassy eyed or lose interest like so many males seemed to do nowadays. In fact,
he was almost studying the way that I talked about him. Maybe he wanted to pick up some pointers or
something? But that seemed highly unlikely. He got girls to fawn over him by breathing.

So what was it?

*You know what it is.*

*No, I don't.*

*Yes, you do. You heard what he said. He wanted to kiss you, but wasn't expecting
anything. He wants* you*, you moron!*

*That's bollocks.*

*Is it?*

*Yes.*

*You just don't ever want to be happy, do you?*

*That's not true!*

*Then what's holding you back from accepting that there are guys out there that want to be
with you?*

*For one, he's* Harry*, and* *he* *promised not to do anything.*

*Promises, schmomises. They don't mean much anymore, especially since he's a
hot-blooded teenage male who couldn't control his urges if he was a* *block of
ice**.*

*That's beside the point.*

*Au contraire, mon amie, it* *couldn't be* *closer* *to the point. Just
listen to—*

*If you say “listen to your heart” I'm going to scream.*

*Fine, I won't say it, but that's exactly what you should do.*

*But Joe…*

*Isn't t**aking the initiative, is he? So until he does, you shouldn't feel
guilty about liking Harry.*

*But I don't!*

*You just keep telling yourself that.*

I groaned and rolled over onto my back to stare at the ceiling. Sometimes I wish I didn't
have such a smartass for a conscience, one who made me think. It could really be a pain in the rear
end. All it ever did was make me think even more than I needed too. You would think someone as
organized and collected as me would have her head clear as well. Funny joke.

The room began to grow darker as the sunset sunk deeper into the confines of the forest. The
candles and firelight were the only source of illumination. Their reflections on the walls made me
feel as if I was inside a stone oven, being cooked to medium-rare for someone to devour for their
dinner. Who was the cannibal in question? Fate. It was eating me whole.

Ew, okay this analogy is getting too gruesome to think about. Maybe I should head to bed early
and put this day behind me for now.

*I think that's the best idea you've had all day.*

*Shut up.*

I sat up and stretched out my back by knotting my hands together and reaching upward. I felt a
pleasant stretch of muscle and crack of joints and rose onto my feet. As I passed the bathroom, I
heard the shower going and tried my best not to think of Harry and how undressed he was in
there.

Too late. Damn.

Since I was already in my pajamas, I collapsed onto my bed as soon as I waved the door closed. I
wasn't tired, but there was no other way I could think of to clear my head. Seriously, I really
needed to save up some money for that Pensieve.

~*~

It was a sleepless night.

For the majority of the evening, I starred at the walls and tried to make pictures out of the
swirly design, thinking that it would bore me to sleep to no avail. I tried counting sheep and
thinking about falling asleep as well. Those didn't help either. I had stayed up all night
studying before, but nothing compared to how this morning greeted me. It was like the sun was
mocking me by shining extra bright through my windows.

“Good morning, sunshine!” It peeped. “The Earth says `hello'!”

Bite me.

By the time I made it down to the great hall, my mood hadn't improved in the slightest.
There were only a few early birds up at this time and I tried to ignore their morning peppiness.
Usually, I would be just like them, basking in the wonder of a new day. Not today. Not when I had
no rest whatsoever and no source of caffeine in my system.

I took a seat nearest to the mug of coffee and filled my goblet to the brim with the one elixir
that would make my day a tiny bit more bearable. I didn't bother putting in my usual two pounds
of cream and sugar. I didn't have time. I needed coffee and I needed it *now*. So I drank
it black. The minute the bitter taste reached my tongue, I spit it straight out. Looks like my
desperation for a wake-up call overrode my better judgment once again.

I grabbed a napkin from a small stack and wiped the residue from around and inside my mouth.
It's a good thing no one paid attention to me, or else I would get some very odd looks. It
wasn't everyday a girl wiped her tongue with a cloth napkin. As my mum would say, “It just
wasn't ladylike.”

“Well, that's attractive.”

I nearly choked on the napkin when I heard his voice. He was looking at me with a small smile
and I removed the napkin before I spoke. I might've been tired, but I wasn't stupid.

“Wasn't exactly what I was going for, but I'll take what I can get.”

“Such positive thinking so early in the morning.”

“What can I say, I'm an optimist.”

I looked around the table for some cream and sugar and snatched both when they came into my
view. Little did I know that it was Harry holding them out in front of me. I nearly pulled him
across the table. He looked at me oddly and I bit my lip shyly, filling my coffee with the heavenly
mix.

“Rough night?” He asked carefully.

I nodded. “You have no idea.”

I had the feeling he was going to say something else to make me feel better, like his night had
been the same, but he remained silent and began to fill his plate. I didn't mind, though. I
didn't want sympathy. It was my own fault that I couldn't fall asleep. Or, more
specifically, what was on my mind. Usually whatever is on a person's mind just ends up playing
out in their dreams, but I guess that instead of going with the norm, my body felt the need to
sleep deprive me as punishment. Punishment for what, I don't know.

Harry kept his eyes focused on his breakfast for most of the morning. Usually, we would be
talking by now, but maybe he sensed that today wasn't one of those days. Thank Merlin for that.
Maybe when the coffee kicked in, I would feel more chatty. Or not. You never know.

“All right, Harry?”

Both mine and Harry's heads turned up to see the grinning face of Colin Creevey, the sixth
year photo man who had been a part of Harry's fan club since he was sorted into Gryffindor. He
was a nice enough boy, but was a little too peppy to hang around with for too long. His younger
brother, Dennis, was nowhere to be seen. They were usually attached at the hip, always following
one another around outside of class and trying to document every aspect of their time at Hogwarts.
It's quite cute if you think about it.

“Hey, Colin.”

I saw Colin reach into his bag and pull out a flyer of some sort, filled with moving pictures
and bright colors. He handed it over to Harry and he took it cautiously, scanning it over
quickly.

“Me and my brother are planning a `Welcome Back' Party the first day back from break. Since
the ball is only for those in the pen-pal program, we figured it would only be fair to hold a party
of our own.”

“Are you asking for my permission or something, Colin?”

The younger boy shrugged. “I guess. You are the Head Boy and everything.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Right. Well, Hermione, what do you think? Should we allow them to crowd up
the common room with butterbeer and pounding music?”

“I suppose.” I said timidly. “I mean, it *is* only fair.”

“Thanks guys, I hope to see you there!” Colin exclaimed, literally jumping with excitement. He
began to walk away, but turned around for a moment and looked at me. “You know, you're not as
much of a bitch as people say you are.”

My mouth dropped, but Colin didn't seem to notice. He turned on his heel and exited the hall
with a bounce in his step. I continued starring with my mouth on the floor. I felt someone poke my
shoulder, but didn't pay any mind.

“He… what… people think I'm a…?”

“Er, yeah.”

I unclenched my jaw and turned back to Harry. “Why?”

“Well, you don't really talk to anyone, so you kinda give off the impression that
you're, you know, stuck up and stuff.”

“And by `and stuff' you mean bitchy?”

“Apparently.”

I pursed my lips and averted my eyes, unconsciously making the conversation even more awkward
than it needed to be. “Did you think I was?”

“It doesn't matter what I thought.” He said nonchalantly. “That's all in the past.”

“Did you ever tell people what you thought of me? Is that why no one ever bothered to talk to
me?” There was a pause from his end and I tiled my head up to see him looking around gauchely.
“Harry?”

“Like I said,” He replied softly. “It doesn't matter.”

I scoffed. “Of course it matters!”

“I thought we were moving past this. I messed up a few years back, end of story.”

I gave him a look that could only be compared with the stink eye. “Yeah, I thought so, too.”

“Hermione…”

I pushed my plate aside and took a last gulp of my coffee.

“Hermione, please don't go.”

I ignored him and swung my feet over the bench, stomping out of the hall. I tried my best to
leave graciously, but with the way my day was going, that wasn't an option. I thought I had
gotten over the past, too, but I guess facing it up front is a completely different story.
Especially when you're sitting next to one of the people that made it happen. I didn't want
to be bitter, but it was hard not to be when you couldn't outrun your past. I really wish this
morning had an upside, because right now it was going down the shitter.

I didn't know where I was heading until I showed up in front of Marie's portrait.

“What's the matter, poppet?” She asked in concern.

“Nothing.”

I could hear the shaking anger and sadness in my voice, and I knew that she could as well. She
gave me a pitying look and said softly, “There's no use lying, I can see all.”

“What, were you painted by a physic?”

“I see your wit hasn't left you in your moment of distress.”

“It's a gift.”

She sighed in that feminine way that only people with knowledge beyond their years could pull
off. It made me want to piss myself. “How did you like your dress?”

“My dress? What are you—how did you know that I got a dress?”

“I know all.”

“That mysterious `I know everything' persona isn't all that intriguing anymore, Marie.
Tell me how you know about the dress.”

“I let the delivery guy in, of course.” She said matter-of-factly.

My stomach began to clench. “So… so it was a guy?”

She nodded, her powdered hair bobbing atop her head. “Yes.”

“What—what did he look like?”

“You and I both know that if I told you that, you wouldn't forgive yourself.”

I let out a frustrated breath out my nose. “Yes, I suppose you're right.”

“Now off you pop, precious. I think I heard an owl inside that you might need to take a look at.
Oh, I hope they didn't make a mess.”

“An owl?”

She nodded delicately. “If any other animal made that sort of noise I would be concerned.”

I smiled for the first time that morning, and it felt great. Finally, my morning was looking up.
I thanked Marie and recited the password, closing the portrait carefully behind me before I
sprinted across the common room and up the stairs. It was a wonder I didn't trip. But somehow I
reached my room and saw Hedwig perched atop my favorite chair. She was looking at me with beady
eyes and I grinned when I realized that it was real—my morning wasn't entirely shit anymore.
The world makes sense again!

Before I tore open the letter that was lying on one of the heavy plush chair arms, I dug into my
trunk for a treat. I tossed it over to her and she caught it in midair. The normal thing to do
would be to stare in wonder at how graceful she looked catching that snack, and I probably would
have, if I wasn't so set on reading Joe's letter. I wanted to improve my day. So sue
me.

His familiar neat handwriting sent my heart a flutter with happiness. Cheesy, but true. I opened
the letter with unprecedented speed as I sat down in my chair, reading it as if it was the cure to
some rare kidney disease.

*Dear Anonymous,*

*I hope my advice worked for you. In this vast world we live in, we can always use another
friend. Let's just hope he doesn't screw it up. In other news, though, I feel like I need
to share something with you. Call it a sudden urge* *or whatever, but I just need to get it
out there and in the open. We haven't really shared our emotions with each other very often, so
I think it's my duty to begin with the sappiness. Well here goes nothing: I'm in
love.*

*Love,
Joe Bloggs*

My world ground to a stop.

-->



15. Who Really Needs Better Judgment, Anyway?
---------------------------------------------



**A/N: There's not a lot to say really. I'm pretty sure I'll be good with the
updates for the next few weeks, seeing as most of the things that have been getting in my way are
now taken care of.** **Yay for that!! Also, the soundtrack is pretty much done; I just need to
put it all together. One of you guys suggested that a score may be in order as well. How does that
sound? Good, bad, over the top, just right? Tell me in a review and if you say yes, suggest some
upbeat movie scores. They're not very easy to come by, let me tell you! Any help at all would
be lovely.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. Obviously. I wouldn't be writing fanfiction if
that were true.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Who Really Needs Better Judgment Anyway?**

I stared at the letter, not believing my eyes. There it was, printed in black ink. Looks like I
got my wish. He was finally beginning to show his emotions, letting me in. He thinned the barrier
between us by sharing the deepest emotion of all; love, the reason the world goes around, the fuel
behind thousands of cheesy romance novels, the crème de la crème of the human psyche.

There was a moment when I first registered the words that I felt my stomach erupt into tiny
butterflies, thinking it was me he was talking about. After all, we had been somewhat of an item
for a few months now. But he certainly would have phrased it differently if he wanted me to receive
it that way. He wouldn't have said *I'm in love*, but rather *I love you*. Right?
Maybe it was just my over-analytical mind at its worst, but it seemed like I was right, it
*was* too good to be true. It was the perfect timing, the perfect guy, the perfect everything.
Nothing is ever perfect for too long. Soon enough, it would pass you by to move onto the next
person, like a never-ending cycle. You only get a taste before it's gone.

Regardless, the fact remained he was in love with someone. Someone who wasn't me.

Forget my hopes and dreams, forget my future plans, forget my feelings. They meant nothing now,
absolutely nothing. It was silly to think that someone would ever love me in the first place. Any
love I had to offer was bound to be unrequited. That's the way things have always been. With
Victor, with my extended family, nothing ever stayed with me. The only person who cared was sitting
in her shop, selling the latest shipment of quills imported from India or some other far off
country.

*Don't forget Harry.*

I groaned. I didn't even want to *think* about him right now.

I re-read the letter what seemed like a billion times over, trying to find a hidden message
squirreled away between the lines. Something that said “Just kidding, I'm really in love with
you and want to marry you!” or something. It didn't work. The words remained the same, and the
pain began to intensify. It was like someone was continuously stabbing me deep in the gut with a
dull railroad spike. There was a pain in my chest heavy enough to rival a heart attack. I started
to see stars and had to brace myself against the chair to keep from falling. My reaction might seem
overdramatic to some. Hell, it even did to me, once I thought about it. But you can't really
begin to comprehend what it feels like to have your heart break unless you're experiencing it
for yourself.

In slow motion, I fell down into my chair and felt the world begin to spin around me. And trust
me, seeing stars plus the world spinning isn't a pretty sight. It makes you nauseous. I put a
hand over my mouth to hold back a dry heave I felt build up in my throat. It was like I was going
into shock.

Scratch that. I was *defi**nitely* going into shock.

So much shock, that I blacked out right there on the chair. The last thing I heard was
Hedwig's concerned chirps beside me.

~*~

When I came to, I felt a cold sensation on my forehead. It was relaxing, calming, and just the
push I needed to open my heavy eyelids. The world was a blur when I first lifted them, but after a
few blinks I could make out a familiar pair of emerald orbs staring at me. I saw him let out a
breath and smile.

“Thank Merlin, I was starting to worry.”

“Worry about what?” I asked groggily.

“You passed out… I think.”

I wiggled my shoulders for a moment to find them cushioned by my mattress. I was on my bed. I
turned a questionable eye to Harry. “I passed out on my bed?”

A slight pink tinge began to make its way to his cheeks. “Well, I sort of moved you…”

“From where?”

He pointed behind him towards my chair. Hedwig was still perched atop the back and panic began
to well up in my stomach. Harry noticed my change in demeanor as I stared at the snowy owl and
turned back to see what had gotten me so flustered. She hooted to the two of us and I saw a slight
sparkle in her eyes. Before Harry could bring up the topic of the mysterious bird in my room, I
blurted out something to distract him.

“Thank you.”

His neck immediately twisted to face me again and I plastered on a small smile. He returned the
gesture with a curt nod. “No problem. You had me going for a while, though.”

“Sorry I—I didn't eat lunch and I guess it got to me.”

I really was a horrible liar.

He raised an eyebrow and I tried my best to keep a straight face. “Right. Lack of food can
sometimes lead to stuff like that. You should really be more careful.”

I almost shouted in relief. But didn't, obviously. That would've screwed everything up.
I might be a mental case at the moment, but that doesn't mean that I still didn't have some
common sense left in me. “Yeah, I'll watch my diet from here on.”

“That's all I ask.”

We both let out a sort of awkward-nervous-type laugh and I did my best to remain calm. Hedwig
was just in there to see if I was alright and now that I was awake, she would leave soon. I just
had to distract Harry until then and hope that he didn't remember her presence in the room. Fat
chance.

“So how did you find me, anyway? You've never even been in my room before.”

“You have that pretty little bird over there to thank for that.”

Shit. “O-oh?”

“Caused a real racket, flapping around the room, scratching your door. I thought you had a swarm
of bats in here until I opened the door to see you sprawled across your chair like someone who just
got hit by the Whomping Willow.”

“Interesting analogy.” I said, slightly embarrassed that he caught me in the aftermath of my
breakdown.

He shrugged. “I call them as I seem them.”

There was a slight pause and I felt him study me for a moment. I shied away.

“Are you sure you're alright?” He asked softly.

“No.” I said honestly. There was no use lying in moderation.

“I don't suppose you want to talk about it?”

“Sorry, no such luck.” I tried to look at him in the eyes when I said this, but ended up
focusing on his nose instead. Oops. I refocused and connected our eyes, feeling an uncomfortable
sensation in my stomach that seemed all-too-familiar. “I just want to be left alone for a while. I
need some time to think things through a bit.”

I expected him to retaliate, protest, do *something*. But he just nodded like the patient
guy he had recently proven himself to be and said softly, “Alright.”

He reached over to rub my knee and I felt a shot of static shoot up to my chest. I let out a
small sound of surprise, but he didn't seem to take mind. He closed the door with a last
lingering smile and left me be. I looked back over to my chair to see that Hedwig was no longer
there. A small gust of wind hit my left side and I turned to see the window was open. I wondered
vaguely how it managed to get that way as I swung my legs over the bed and walked over to close it.
It shut with a click and I collapsed back onto my covers.

I went through the next few days in a mental fog that caused the minutes, hours, and days to
blur together in a very disconcerting way.

I took Harry's advice and never skipped a meal, but didn't eat much. At breakfast, I
couldn't digest more than a piece of toast, at lunch I barely got a ham sandwich down my mouth
without gagging, and at dinner, I could only take a few nibbles of lemon soaked chicken before my
stomach felt like someone rammed a brick down my esophagus. At least I tried.

I started thinking of my bedroom as my cave when I realized that I never traveled anywhere but
there and the great hall in the first three day span after receiving Joe's letter. Clothes were
everywhere, books were at random spots around the fireplace and on my rug, and my bed hadn't
been made since Merlin knows when. A day into my self-enforced incarceration, I started knitting, a
habit I had picked up in my fifth year when I tried to kick start S.P.E.W. I had gotten quite good
at scarves and hats, but I still had trouble with mittens. I thought I could channel my heartbreak
and anger into something productive but it turns out knitting with a broken heart can be bad for
your health. I stabbed myself with the needles a record eleven times in the span of two hours, and
I only had one pair of misshapen gloves to show for it.

So I turned to reading. At the beginning of break, I promised myself not to study until two days
before classes. But now that other activities had proven themselves unable to ease my pain, I had
no other choice. I knew that fiction books would only make things worse. Most literature in the
genre always had romance lined in there somewhere. It was a part of life, therefore, a part of a
writer's inspiration. So I was left with schoolbooks.

No matter how much I tried to avoid it, though, I couldn't wash my feeling away. I still
felt depressed, fragile, and so much more vulnerable than I'd ever felt before. The swirling,
churning apocalypse of emotions in my body threatened to overwhelm me, but concentrating on other
things helped ease the storm a small bit. Unfortunately, distractions could only work for so
long.

There were times when I would just cry. I wouldn't even be thinking about it until something
reminded me of him. It was the stupidest things, too. I saw the fire go out and started to tear up
because it reminded me too much of irony. It rained one night and I began to bawl my eyes out
because we told each other how much we loved the rain in our first letters. They were silly things,
but somehow they still got to me by unknown means. Sometimes I cried for so long I would end up dry
sobbing, and not like the actresses you see in the movies. It was ugly. It would have sounded like
a fish out of water if fish could make noises loud enough for human ears to pick up.

Before my mind could process it, a week and a half had passed.

I didn't realize that everyone had returned from break until I was in the great hall for
dinner. The room was now filled to the brim with students and I found my normal spot taken by a
gaggle of fourth years. Not in the mood for any sort of confrontation, I just turned my back around
and skipped dinner for the first time since I made the promise. But hey, it's not as if I had
sworn in blood or anything.

I was almost to Marie's portrait when I slipped on what I thought was a wet floor. I fell on
my back and felt the wind leave my lungs in a rush. I gasped for breath for a good minute until I
felt relief come through the media of air. My breathing came out in heavy gasps as I stared up at
the ceiling, cursing myself for letting my stubbornness and emotional disdain get in the way. I
propped myself on my elbows and felt around for the source of my fall. It turns out that it
wasn't water at all, but a slip of paper. I recognized the bright colors immediately as the
flyer that Colin Creevey had handed Harry a few days (or was it a week?) ago. Now that I had it in
front of me, I could properly read the title. It was printed in lime green font and was slightly
metallic when I held it up to the light, reading *Welcome Back Bash!*

Further information was below, circling pictures of former Gryffindor house parties. I scanned
it briefly as an idea struck me. I had tried relentlessly to put my misery behind me through
various comfort activities I had used in the past but knitting and studying didn't seem to work
anymore. Maybe letting loose might help. I had never really enjoyed an actual house party before,
only sneaking down for a butterbeer or two. Maybe embracing the company of blaring music and drinks
might help. It never hurt to try, right?

Before I could lose my nerve, I hauled myself up off the ground and sped to my room. I changed
out of my sweats and into a comfy pair of jeans and t-shirt. I checked my profile in the mirror and
decided that since I hadn't brushed my hair since, well, a while, it would be better pulled
back. I had never been a fan of make-up, so I didn't bother putting any on. Besides, most of
the people in attendance would be too drunk to notice anyway. It wasn't as if I was fishing for
approval. I just needed to let off some steam. That was all. When all else fails, try something
new, that's what I always say. Then again, I never thought it would lead me to a, for lack of a
better word, Rave.

Soon after entering through the portrait hole, I left the tower. I wasn't one to take an
overly excessive amount of time getting ready. Ever.

“Where are you off to at this hour?” Marie asked as I closed her portrait behind me.

I turned back with an amused expression. “It's only seven.”

“Yes, but you haven't left your room save for meals for a good week. I'll assume
whatever has been bothering you is now repaired?”

“Erm,” I said uncertainly. “I'm working on it.”

“By getting some fresh air with a reason other than filling your stomach?” she asked
cattily.

I looked down like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Yes.”

She nodded carefully, looking as though she was trying to reign in a smile. I backed up a few
steps cautiously. “At what hour do you expect to return?”

“I don't suppose that I'll be gone for long. An hour or two at the most.”

Marie pursed her lips. “Alright. Be safe.”

“I always am.”

I turned away before I could see her reaction, but I knew that she was holding in soft laughter,
the kind you have when you tease someone with good intentions.

It was only a short while before I reached the portrait that lead to Gryffindor tower. Being
Head Girl, I had a list of each house's passwords, so I spoke the key word to the fat lady and
she opened up for me without missing a beat. I could hear the music well before the hole was
revealed, it was that loud. The pounding bass came at me in a rush as I dove deeper into the room
and got my first glance at the party I was supposed to lose myself in. *Within reason,* I
thought.

There were streamers everywhere; the ceiling, the fireplace, chairs, *everywhere*. It was a
real fire hazard if you thought about it. But that was the benefit of having a room full of
wizards. There would always be a sensible one in the crowd sober enough to perform an
*Aguamenti* when need be. More times than not, that person ended up being me. Not tonight.
Tonight I was going to be one with the crowd. If there was a fire, some other responsible student
could take care of it. Certainly there were other sensible people attending tonight? Well, if not,
I'm sure that Colin had taken the precautions to prevent such an incident from occurring.

Against a far wall was the refreshment table, which, when I looked more closely, turned out to
be two study tables pushed together covered in a red tablecloth. There was a tub of ice filled to
the brim with butterbeer, another twin bucket filled with firewhisky for the older students. Back
when Fred and George Weasley ruled the school, they had taken it upon themselves to come up with a
few inventions to prevent any of the younger students from getting their hands on the highly
alcoholic beverages, a fact I was still thoroughly impressed with. It was a trait, I was told, that
was passed onto their younger siblings to use at future gatherings. And just as I suspected, there
was Ron Weasley, waving his wand around the firewhisky to add the finishing touches. It always paid
well to be cautious.

The room was absent of anyone below fourth year, as per usual. They were always escorted to
their dormitories a half hour before the party started and locked in their dorms. I didn't
approve of this method until a third year had snuck down to chug a pint of firewhisky that he had
somehow gotten a hold of. It was best they were locked up, I think. They would mature eventually.
Until then, they were safest in their dormitories, pouting about how it was unfair that they got
treated like children because of their age.

Couples and groups of people already lined the middle of the tower, which was used as an
impromptu dance floor. I was sure there were a few people going stag as well, but they weren't
as easily spotted. Against a corner was an old wooden turntable that was being used as a deejay
booth. Dean Thomas was behind the speakers nodding his head to the beat of the music. Coming out of
the overly large projectors was an upbeat wizard band that reminded me of something you would hear
in a Muggle dance club. Trance I think it was called. Everyone that was occupying the room was
either on the dance floor, grinding against someone or moving their hips around to make it look
like they were dancing, or near the fireplace, talking with someone above the music.

I knew where I had to go and headed straight past the bundles of people to reach my destination.
The drink table looks innocent enough when you first see it. But when manipulated accordingly, it
can serve your will however you please, including lowering your inhibitions and worries. I reached
for a bottle of firewhisky to pour myself a shot, but paused as a faint red siren began to sound in
the back of my head.

*Are you nuts?! You're about to* drink *your problems away?!*

*You never know what will work until you try it.*

*Do you want to poison yourself? Alcohol does horrible things to people, Hermione.*

Oh Gods, if I didn't know any better, I'd think it was Harry in my head. But no, it
couldn't be. My conscience had always been this way.

*I'm not going to get wasted. I just want a small drink to ease my mind a bit.*

*A small drink turns into another small drink, which turns into a larger drink, which ends up
being the contents of three bottles.*

*That's ridiculous.*

*Is it?*

*Look, I can handle myself. If things get too out of control, I'll leave. Drinking
doesn't make you do anything you don't want to do.*

*Yes but—*

*But nothing! I need to loosen up, forget about Joe for an hour or two, and then I can go to
sleep.*

There was a pause. *Promise?*

*Cross my heart.*

I felt my stance relax as I reached towards the nearest bottle. The glass was cool against my
fingertips. I popped off the cork and poured myself a clean cup. The glass was no more than a few
inches tall and too skinny to be considered a glass at all. It looked more like a tube. I studied
the glass for a moment, watching the unfamiliar liquid swish around and begin to bubble over.

“Are you going to drink that or what?” A voice hissed from beside me.

I looked over my shoulder and rolled my eyes. “Obviously, or I wouldn't be holding it.”

“Well then stop looking at it and just down it already. You're wasting the coldness.”

“Shut it, Weasley, I can handle my own liquor.”

“Obviously not.”

I glared at him. “Just give me a moment, okay? Unlike some people, I have a conscience that
wants me to be careful.”

“That's no fun. If you want to go in, go all in.”

Oddly enough, his analogy actually made sense, a fact that I didn't overlook. “Bugger off,
Weasley.”

He scoffed but remained silent. Not wanting to hear him bitch any more than was necessary, I put
the glass against my lips and downed it. The liquid burned my throat and I had to resist the urge
to cough. It wasn't as good as I thought it would be. Looks like the name really did do it
justice. *Fire*whisky. Who would've thought? My nose scrunched up as the taste somehow
made it to my nose like some drinks do when you're about to laugh.

Maybe I drank it wrong. Just to make sure, I quickly poured myself another glass, only to get
the same result. I tried once more and almost gagged at the awful aftertaste welling up in my
mouth. Well, that theory was a bust. Looks like I was doomed to depression forever.

I put the tube-glass-thing back on the table and turned to the dance floor. I could spot a few
familiar faces. *Looks like this was a multi house party**,* I thought. I spotted Luna
Lovegood dancing as though she was in some sort of trance alone in a corner of the room, her
signature bottle cork necklace bobbing up and down in midair. There were a lot of drunken people
scattered throughout the room. You could pick them up easier than most think. Just look for someone
with no sense of balance and who giggles at something that could be funny if there was something
else behind it. In a sick sort of way, I was jealous of them. They looked so carefree, so unaware
of their surroundings. I wanted to be like that. I wanted to forget. Why did they get the privilege
of doing so and I was stuck here, three shots of firewhisky down and not feeling a damn thing?
It's practically criminal.

I didn't even realize I was looking for anyone until I saw a tuft of ebony hair somewhere in
the crowd. Was Harry here? Maybe he could help me out. He was really good at distracting me, after
all.

*Yeah, with his tongue.*

I sighed and put that idea away. As tempting as it was, I would have to be hammered to even
consider that an option. And seeing as that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, I let it be.
Perhaps another time, after I read a manual on how to get drunk the right way. The party for me was
over. Looks like it was going to be an early night in once again. I let my feet begin to carry me
towards the door, bowing my head in defeat. You win, better judgment.

And then the most wonderful sensation passed through me. It was like warm honey fresh out of the
bottle, pouring over my senses and glazing over my every thought, action, and body part. The room
suddenly seemed more golden, more *alive*. The people were not only dancing, they were
singing; singing with the sound of a thousand doves. It was beautiful. The world around me burst
into a collage of warm fall colors. Every time I moved my head or even took a breath, the scene
would move as if in slow motion just so I could see it all before it passed. I felt a silly grin
spread on my face.

Hello, numbness.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to dance, I joined the crowd in the middle of the room, moving
around in what I thought to be dancing. Perhaps it was more like swaying, but I was too buzzed to
tell the difference. The song had changed to one in which you could hear the turntable scratching
behind it. The singer's voice slid through the sound system like liquid estrogen. The beat was
a sensual one and I was vaguely aware of everyone around me pairing up. It didn't even matter
if you knew the other; all that mattered was the beauty of the music to which you were dancing.
Whoever was closest was your new partner. I felt a pair of warm arms wrap around my waist and
melted into them. Maybe it was the alcohol, but they felt *really* good pressed up against me.
Our hips moved in a mutual rhythm that matched the beat.

I felt my better judgment begin to melt away. Is that another effect of the drink? It must have
been. I would never dance with a random stranger if I was in my right of mind. But damn did it feel
nice.

I felt hot breath on the crevice between my neck and shoulder and shivered as I felt goose bumps
erupt on my skin. I leaned even further back into my partner's chest and heard a masculine
sound of approval sound from deep within his throat. I smirked at the new sense of power. Hooking
my right arm over his neck, I twisted my body to press against him from the front, wanting to lift
the sense of mystery surrounding our sensual dance.

Even the buzz of firewhisky couldn't mask the shock.

We looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. It couldn't be. Not *again*. I
had already suffered enough today, now I had to face my mixed feelings on top of heartbreak. Thank
you, irony. Harry looked equally as surprised, but not so much like he wanted to run out of the
room as I did. The fire had already been lit, now someone had to add the gasoline.

My hand was still around his neck and I didn't want to take the chance to move it. But my
hesitations ultimately lead to my downfall. Recovering from his end of the shock, his arm snaked
around my waist and pulled me snug against him. The fire began to rise up to a dangerous level once
more. His chest collided with mine and I felt my body immediately react. I didn't even bother
blaming the firewhisky. What was now between us was too real to be blamed on anything but pure
need. I felt my will begin to give into him as he began to move against me once more. I was scared
to respond at first, but the feel of his body against mine was too strong to ignore. I threw away
what little sense of doubt I had left and ground against him.

Our legs seemed to entangle with each other and soon the only thing between the two of us was
the clothes that were snug against our skin. I moaned as pleasant sensations began to fill my body.
Sensations I had never felt before. What the hell had I been missing out on all these years?

The same scratchy tune was still blaring around the room. The softly spoken words and harmonies
of the performer adding to the heat. It was when the song entered a high crescendo that an idea
struck me. If this was how good it felt to fill the need, what about the want that I was now
experiencing? I was with the one guy in the world that seemed to want me. It would be taking
advantage of the situation, yes, but I needed so desperately to feel wanted. You never know how
empty you can become when no one wants you. It's like a hole in your chest that keeps sucking
in all of the ambient negative feelings from the world into you and enveloping your entire body. In
other words, it pretty much sucks. But now here I was, and if I was reading the situation right, I
could get rid of that feeling as well as the other I had sought out to squash. It was like hitting
two birds with one stone. I pulled back slightly from Harry and did the one thing that I would have
never thought I would ever do in a million years. The thing I thought I could only do if I was
hammered.

I added gasoline to the fire.

He looked at me with curious eyes for a moment. I recognized the familiar glaze of alcohol in
them. Smiling coyly, I pulled his head down to mine, capturing his lips. He was quick to respond.
His lips moved sloppily over mine, the kind of messy way that lets you know a small part of what
was letting this be was the alcohol in our bloodstream. But right now, I could care less. All I
needed was to feel wanted, and if this was the way to do it, then by Merlin, I would enjoy it.

I found the seam of his lips with my tongue and plunged in, wanting to make it known to him that
I wanted him. I needed him. He was my escape. He took quite well to the message, if I do say so
myself. His mouth opened for me and his velvety tongue met mine in a tangle. I had almost forgotten
what he tasted like. It's harder than you think to hold onto someone's specific taste. But
this time there was a small hint of firewhisky from both of our mouths.

His hand moved lazily up the back of my shirt and moved around the skin smoothly. I arched into
him and he smiled against my lips. I felt the urge to pull back and scorn him for acting cocky in a
moment like this, but decided against it. He had every right to feel that way. He was doing things
to me, making me feel alive. He deserved a moment of glory. I wonder how it felt to know that you
had a certain pull over another. I moved my free arm behind him and lifted the bottom of his shirt
and felt the smoothness of his skin. I felt him moan, his pleasured oration vibrating into my
mouth. I felt a sense of empowerment close to the burst I had felt earlier. But this time, it was
layered with lust, a tide of lust that enveloped me like the first wave before a tsunami hits. I
detached my lips and he gave me a hazy look. I bit my lip and took his hand in mine.

I don't know how we managed to get to the common room. I can only imagine how we said the
password with how drunk we were. But none of these worries slowed us down.

My back hit the wall next to a lamp. The impact was such that it fell to the ground and cracked.
His lips crashed down onto mine in a blaze of desire. I could still hear the song that had been
playing radiating in my eardrums. I reached down and pulled his shirt off of his chest, wanting to
run my hands over his skin again. I had only gotten a taste before, and now I wanted—no
*needed*—more. He shrugged it off and gave me a sexy grin. I giggled deep in my throat and
wrapped my hands around him, running them around his abs to feel the muscles that lay there. They
contracted slightly as I touched them and I found it fascinating. I pulled off my own shirt next,
curious as to what it would be like if we were skin-to-skin.

It was like an explosion of fireworks. As soon as I discarded the seemingly useless piece of
fabric, he pulled me to him and my still covered breasts were pressed against what I had once
called his rippling pectorals. And boy was I right. Surprisingly, the whole time I had dedicated to
taking off my shirt, our lips had only detached once as I pulled it over my head. His tongue was
doing things to my own that made me want to scream in ecstasy. But that might ruin it. I held back
any reaction similar to that and continued to join my tongue with his. One of his hands began to
trail from my waist up to the bottom of my breast. I moaned and pressed myself to him, lifting my
back momentarily from the brick wall. He cupped it and began kneading it firmly. I gasped at the
new sensation and had to pull back from our kiss. He didn't miss a beat, moving his lips to
attach at my throat. They were like cool ice against my flaming skin. He made a trail of soft
kisses from my collarbone to the bottom of my chin, stopping there to suck and nip at the tender
flesh.

I was writhing against him, not wanting him to stop, but knowing that he would. I had to
distract him so that he would never stray. I moved one hand from its place on his waist and began
to move it down to his zipper. My other hand was busy rubbing his abdominals and tracing them in
slow circles. As soon as I reached the metal fastening, I began to rub up and down in a motion I
thought mirrored sensuality. He took very well to the theory and moaned into the nape of my neck. I
continued the movement until he began to nip at my ear playfully. I gasped, not expecting him to
change course and drew back for a moment. He took advantage of my falter and captured my hand with
the one that had been kneading my breast. I looked at him curiously, but he avoided my gaze and
placed small kisses on my chin, nose, and neck.

I didn't know where he was moving my hand until I found it atop the zipper once again. This
time, he arranged my fingers to grasp the button and release it from the hole. I smiled drunkenly
and took the hint. After the button was unfastened, he led my hand to the zipper and helped me move
it down. The sound of it coming undone was the only sound in the room other than our heavy
breathing. I needed to cover it up before I let the sound pierce through to my better judgment. I
angled my face up to his and captured his lips in a fiery kiss. He kissed me back with great force
as his pants fell to the ground, leaving him in only his boxers.

I repeated the same movement with my hand, leading his to my button and letting him slide my
pants down to the floor. Before I could make a move to do anything else, he grabbed a hold of my
hips and picked me up. My legs automatically moved around his waist and I felt his arousal against
my inner thigh. I broke our kiss and attached my lips at his throat, sucking his skin as he had
done to mine. I felt him begin to move and was vaguely aware of the elevation as he proceeded up
the stairs. I don't know which room he led us too, but at the moment, it didn't matter. The
door was against my back and I detached one of my hands from around his shoulders and groped around
for the doorknob. I found it within seconds and turned it to let us through. Apparently my quick
hand had earned me the reward of another breathtaking kiss. I held tight to him as I absorbed his
taste.

He backed us up into a bed and lowered me gently on to it. The soft covers were a nice change
from the hard wall and door. I maneuvered to the back post and saw him climb towards me. He
reminded me of a tiger about to pounce his pray. Oddly enough, I didn't mind being the field
mouse in the situation. Call me crazy.

He crawled atop of me and kissed me hungrily. Maybe it was the effect of the bed, but things
moved a lot more quickly once we got there. He reached behind me to unhook my bra and my breasts
spilled out into the cool air. It was remarkably how fast one can act when they come into sight of
a private part of the human anatomy. He dipped down to my chest and began to suckle at my breasts
like they contained the sweet nectar of life. His tongue swirled around the buds and I groaned
huskily. I reached into his silky hair and pressed him closer to me. His switched back and forth,
giving each breast equal attention. I soon grew impatient with his teasing and tugged him back to
my mouth.

My hands trailed from his hair to the muscles of his back. His hand began to move once more, but
this time taking refuge in my inner thigh. I inhaled a large amount of air as he began to softly
stroke the most sensitive part of my body, a part I had never even dared to touch. Not once. It was
a good thing I never did, too, because I feared that his actions would vastly trump my own. His one
finger turned into two as he rubbed more vigorously. I let out a gasp into our kiss and felt him
smile. I didn't even have time to return the favor and feel that rush of adrenaline because he
swiftly pulled down my panties. I looked at him with a bewildered expression and he gave me one of
his signature grins in return. I couldn't help but smile back and did a little surprise of my
own. With as much sensuality as I could muster, I trailed my hand to the elastic of his boxers and
pulled them down more skillfully than I thought I could pull off.

I knew what was going to happen next. But I wasn't scared. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the
rush of estrogen pumping through my bloodstream. Nothing could stop me from continuing. And I did
it with a clear head, exactly what I had set out to accomplish in the first place.

I didn't get a good look at his, erm, *member*, but from what I did see, I felt very
bad for ever criticizing him about his anatomy. Turns out I was wrong. Go figure.

He lowered himself to me and I grasped at his shoulders, bracing myself. He looked at me for a
moment before swooping in for another kiss. I melted into him once more, letting my body relax.
That was the moment he plunged in. I felt a sharp burst of pain and tried to scream out of reflex.
But Harry's kiss muffled it. It covered the whimpers I emitted as he began to move as well. At
least someone was thinking. If only he could think of a way to take the pain away. That would make
him a downright god.

Thankfully the worst of the pain ebbed away after only a few moments, but there was still a
slight discomfort. He must have noticed I wasn't enjoying myself, because one of his hands
trailed down my body and began to stoke near where we were connected. Now *that* was a way to
help me enjoy myself. I began to move more freely with him and that was enough for both of us to
begin to reach some sort of nirvana. I can't really describe what it felt like when I began to
climax, but I'll try my best. First, my hips began to buck as if I was riding a mechanical bull
I had no control over. Second, stars appeared in my vision; which was pretty impressive seeing as I
had my eyes closed. Third, the most amazing sensation began to pour over me. Forget the warm honey;
this was like a shower of hot liquid bliss pounding down on me like little drops of heaven. Mix
that with the feeling whenever I get a 112 on an assignment, and you had my first taste of climax.
To complete the picture, the both of us let out noises that could only be described as purely
animalistic. Hot, right?

It lasted for a good half a minute before I felt something warm spill into me. After he spent
himself inside of me, he pulled out and I felt a gush of fluids spill out from my broken hymen.
Wow, way to ruin a moment. Harry didn't seem to care, though. He broke off our kiss only to
place a butterfly-like one on my forehead. I smiled like an idiot at how that small gesture made my
stomach feel. He returned my smile with one equally as lopsided. I just had to kiss him, it was in
the rulebook. What rulebook you ask? I'll answer that when I come up with one. I pressed my
lips gently to his for a moment and buried my head in his chest, feeling sudden fatigue. He rolled
over to my side and placed his hands around my waist, drawing me to his chest. I snuggled into his
warmth and the world began to fade.

And the funny thing was that I did all of this with the same stupid smile.

The world faded into black, velvety content.

-->



16. Oh, Merlin
--------------



**A/N: What did I tell you? It's** **actually** **up on time. Oh, the loveliness of
having a free weekend. You guys have pretty much** **been** **my inspiration. And, because
that can only run so far, I must digress that this story will soon be at an end. Maybe around five
more chapters, I'm guessing :[ But with ends comes new beginnings. I have a load of new ideas
for stories and have them all posted on my website:
http://www.addictedxdreamer.webs.com****,** **for you to browse.** **There's a poll on
there and everything! How fancy am I?? Please go and check out the options between now and whenever
I choose to close the poll, it'll be a real help. For those who read** **In Too Deep****,
this method is how some of you chose this fic right here to be my new project, and look how that
turned out!**

**Shout out to my beta, Vincent! I lurve you :D**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, JKR's. Duh**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Oh, Merlin**

I don't really know what woke me up. Maybe it was the sudden breeze I felt against my cheek,
or that annoying pull toward consciousness that likes to wake you up after you've gotten your
proper amount of sleep. There's no way to know, really, because there are a billion reasons,
and at this point in time I don't really feel like counting them. When you first wake up, you
aren't in a right state of mind. The world around you is a hazy blur and you can't register
more than one thing at a time. Right now, it was how unusually comfortable I was. On a normal
morning, I would wake up in some odd position spread out on my bed, but today I was curled up to a
warm…warm… well, I can't really place what. The closest thing I could relate it to is a teddy
bear. But I know for a fact that if I had brought my ancient stuffed animal, Copernicus, to
Hogwarts, I would know if it was him. He had tears and bunched up fur and just *felt* old.
This… this didn't feel old at all. It was warm and soft and felt downright lovely against my
skin. Whatever it was, I was pressed full up against it and entangled in its depths like a
hummingbird in its favorite flower. Furthermore, I had no intent of moving.

I smiled at the new feeling of comfort and snuggled against it more fully. The more I remained
awake, the more possibilities of what it could be flowed into my mind, the most reasonable being an
overly large pillow. It certainly felt like one. I didn't really want to think much on it, but
as my senses began to fully adjust to the environment, I couldn't help it. Even thought my eyes
were still closed, I felt the room around me change in atmosphere. The only thing that remained
constant, in fact, was my pillow. But wait, since when did pillows move?

I opened my eyes a pinch and saw a patch of tanned *something* underneath my head. The
texture sure didn't look like a pillow. In fact, it looked almost like skin. But no, that
couldn't be right. Last night I only… really don't remember what happened. Oh, Merlin, what
did I do? I twisted to try and get a better look around and hopefully prove that I wasn't in
some random stranger's bedroom, but a pressure on my back prevented me from moving more than a
few inches. An arm.

Oh. My. God.

I went rigid and shifted my head. It was resting on a chest which was still emitting heavy
breathes that told me that whoever my partner in bed was, they were still asleep. I bit my lip to
keep from making any noises of surprise. I moved my head a few inches more to rest my chin atop his
chest and blinked a few times to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Nope. This was most definitely
real. And real situations called for real reactions.

“*AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!*”

My ear-piercing scream was enough make my ears buzz and wake up the peacefully sleeping Harry
Potter. That's right. Him. It was so much, actually, that he literally leapt three inches into
the air and tumbled to the ground near the bed. It was an amusing sight, but now was not the time
to laugh. He took half of the blankets with him and I had to find a sheet to cover myself up,
because I was naked. And not that naked that people tell you they wake up in, with their underwear
still on and clothes hidden underneath the covers. I was literally in my birthday suit. And that
could only mean one thing. I pushed that disturbing thought out of my head for a moment as I leant
over the edge and caught a nice view of Harry's naked arse as he remained on the floor.

“Erm, are you okay?” I asked tentatively.

“Oh yeah,” He said dryly, his voice muffled by the sheets on the floor. “This is how I wake up
every morning, actually. I'm used to it by now.”

I rolled my eyes and watched him get up, turning my head away when I saw him begin to tie the
bundle of sheets around his, erm, private area. I felt a hot blush well up in my cheeks and put my
cool hands over them to make it go away quickly before he saw me.

“Can I come back on the bed now, it's chilly down here and me and my… ahh… friend don't
do so well in the cold, if you catch my drift.”

“Sure.” I said quietly, scooting over to the other side of the bed.

I felt his weight shift on the mattress and kept my gaze straightforward, clutching the sheet
around my chest for dear life. The last thing I needed now was to lose my focus. So, instead of
initiating the awkward conversation that was bound to commence, I continued to stare at the wall
opposite the bed. In avoiding the obvious, I realized I wasn't even in my room. I was in
Harry's. I should have realized right away, but I had been too tired to think straight. His
room was similar to mine in a lot of ways. It had the same regal design, a fireplace, a bookshelf,
and a window offering a fantastic view of the castle grounds and forbidden forest. But in other
ways, it was very different. Instead of the warm, fall colors of my room, it was instead filled
with the hot colors of summer, red and orange, mostly. His bed was similar to mine, save for the
canopy. The carvings were slightly different, but I would expect nothing less. The sheets were a
shade of brilliant scarlet and made of fine silk. The wallpaper was a burned crème and had a
tapestry of a creature resembling a hippogriff.

I couldn't see much more, since I vowed not to move too much. I had a lot of self control
when the situation called for it. Other times, though, I could be as impatient and awkward as the
pubescent teenager stereotype went. Seeing as I was in a very odd position, I couldn't really
keep a hold of my confidant demeanor. If I was in a familiar situation, I could hold my ground
easily and as unwavering as a brick wall. But now that I was treading on unknown territory, it was
a whole other story. I shifted a bit and peaked under the covers briefly. There, as plain as the
day itself, was the only evidence I needed to confirm it. Dried blood stained some parts of the
covers. I inhaled a large amount of breath and suddenly became aware of my surroundings and, more
importantly, myself. There was a dull throbbing in between my legs, an odd stench that couldn't
be described floating in the air, and my pheromones were going nuts. All signs I could have picked
out earlier, but instead chose to scream and make the situation even more awkward than it needed it
be.

Not bothering to look at him, I spoke aloud what needed to be spoken. “We had sex last night,
didn't we?”

Harry hesitated a moment, simply stated, “Yup,” and nodded once.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. It sounded even worse when he confirmed it. I felt dirty,
impure, and all around wrong. What had happened last night that made me think this was okay? I must
have been under some sort of powerful influence to even consent to an act this improper. And with
*Harry* of all people! Oh Merlin, what on Earth have I done. I closed my eyes, trying to
remember at least a part of last night; a clue, perhaps, to tell me how I had forgotten in the
first place. All that came to me were fuzzy images. I groaned and turned to Harry. He looked as
uncomfortable as I felt.

“Do you remember how it happened?” I asked. Maybe he had a better memory than I did.

“Not much more than you do.”

“Well, I don't remember a thing.”

He turned to me, eyes shining with that mysterious emotion that I could never place on him.
“Really?”

I nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If I did, then I wouldn't be
asking you.”

He looked down at the sheets for a moment. It seemed as if he was concentrating hard on
something, thinking on the ramifications of my affirmation. But whatever it was about, it must have
been inconclusive, for he just sighed and craned his head back to me. “I remember small
things.”

“It's better than nothing.”

He nodded briefly. “I remember the party, and drinking *a lot* of firewhisky and
butterbeer.”

I concentrated for a moment. I remembered the party as well. That was a start. I went there to
let off some steam after all other methods had turned up null. There were drinks, but not many. I
took three shots of firewhisky back-to-back and didn't feel anything besides a burning throat;
and then nothing.

“I was dancing,” He continued, “With a few friends, trying to have a good time.”

“Trying?” I asked.

“Yeah, didn't turn out so hot. I thought that if I checked out Colin's party, I would
have some fun for the first time in a week or so.”

“Me too,” I said, listening intently for anything that would trigger a memory.

He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

I bit my lip and nodded. “I needed to let off some steam. I was getting sick and tired of
locking myself in my room and not feeling anything different.”

“And going to a house party would help it all go away.”

“Yeah.” I paused for a moment, trying to fill in any other missing pieces. “Do you remember
anything else?”

He shook his head. “More dancing and—” He cut off suddenly, looking at me with narrowed eyes. I
stared right back, wondering why he was looking at me that way.

“Why are you—?”

“You kissed me.”

“What?” I asked, slightly appalled at this accusation. “I did no such thing!”

He pointed a finger at me. “Yes, you did! We were dancing together and *you kissed
me*!”

“I don't dance.” I said immediately.

“You did last night.”

I scoffed. “That's ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

I opened my mouth to retort, but my memories chose that moment to rudely confirm his story. It
hit me with a force so great I had to put an arm behind me to keep my balance. I *had* kissed
him. After the drinks and trying to leave, the buzz hit me and I wandered to the dance floor.
There, Harry and I had found each other and danced, if it could even be considered that. I think it
more resembled some sort of ancient mating ritual. When I found out it was him I—oh Merlin. I
*used* him. I used him to fill the hole of want in my chest. I used him to replace Joe. I felt
tears well up behind my eyes. It seemed so unreal. I would never, *ever**,* do that if I
was in a right state of mind. But I hadn't been. I was under the influence of alcohol and not
that much, either. Looks like I wasn't much of a drinker. Not really a surprise, but it was
still a fair bit of shock.

Skin, sweat, heat, kisses, movement, grinding, touching, caresses.

It was all a mistake. I shouldn't have used him. I took advantage of his feelings for me and
tried to fill the gap. And that wasn't even the worst part; it worked. Now that I had full
play-by-play recollection of what happened, I realized that not once did Joe cross my mind. Harry
had succeeded just like I thought he would. It didn't feel as good as I had previously thought.
In fact, it felt downright disgusting.

I felt a wave of nausea and sprinted to the bathroom, making sure to keep a tight grip on the
sheet. I heard a thump behind me and realized a little too late that half of the sheet was still
connected to the bed and henceforth, would cause any occupants to fall to the ground as the sheet
was torn off. Oops.

I reached the bathroom just in time. I bent down and dumped the contents of my stomach into the
porcelain toilet. God, I hated puking. It pretty much matched how I was feeling. In pain, yes, but
also gross. Thankfully, I hadn't eaten much and I stopped after a few heaves. I backed up
against the wall and let out a breath. There really isn't any other feeling like the one you
experience after vomiting. As funny as it sounds, you know it's true. You become unaware of
your surroundings, since you are so disoriented by the feeling of blood pounding through your head.
I hadn't even heard Harry pad into the room. I wasn't surprised to see him, though. He had
taken the time to find a pair of boxers to slide into. I was too high to even look at his rippling
pectorals this time. Mother would be proud.

“Is the thought of sleeping with me really that repulsive?”

I twisted my head to look at him and said bluntly, “Yes.”

“You certainly know how to bring down a guy's ego.”

“I try.”

He sat down next to me and I didn't shy away as I so wanted to. No matter how badly I felt,
I still needed to accept it. I didn't want to, but it really wasn't up to me. I
couldn't hide forever.

“I'm sorry.” I said softly.

He gave me a confused glance. “Why?”

“I took advantage of you.”

“It takes two to tango, Hermione. I was just as much a part of it as you were.”

I shook my head. “No, you don't get it. I *used* you. I took advantage of your feelings
for me in the worst way.”

There was a small pause. “And what way would that be?”

I let out a bitter laugh. I don't even know how a gesture like that could even break through
at a moment like this, but voila. “I wanted to forget about him. I wanted to feel wanted for once
in my life without repercussions. You are probably the only guy out there that would have me.”

“Are you saying that Joe did something to you?”

“Something like that.”

“Dare I ask what?”

I smiled sadly, leaning my head more firmly against the wall. “I got what I wished for. He let
me in. But in this case, I would give anything to take it back.”

“Was he too forward, or…?”

“No.” I said firmly. “He was crystal clear. He told me he was in love.”

“Well isn't that a good thing?”

“I guess. I want him to be happy, but there's a selfish part of me that keeps telling me
that I don't.”

A look of comprehension shone on his face. “You don't think it's you.”

“No. I *know* it's not me.”

“And what makes you think that?” His voice was tense, a fact that I didn't overlook.

“The way he said it.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and then suddenly began to bang his head into the wall. I looked
at him oddly for a moment, not really knowing why he was causing harm to his head. Not that he
could really lose any more brain cells. I let him continue for about a minute before I spoke
up.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

He didn't stop. In fact, I think he doubled his efforts.

No, scratch that. He definitely doubled his efforts. I could hear the impact a lot clearer than
I had been able to originally. I put a hand on his shoulder and he jerked, looking at me. There was
a red spot on his forehead.

“Are you alright?” I repeated firmly.

He bowed his head and began to rock it back and forth in a gesture I interpreted as a “No.” He
remained silent for a moment before mumbling something. He repeated it a few more times and I only
just caught it on the last repetition.

“I'm an idiot.”

I furrowed my brow. “How are you an idiot? You didn't do anything wrong.”

He continued to rock his head as he spoke in a moot tone. “I did *everything* wrong.”

“No, you didn't. It was my f—”

“Hermione, you don't get it!” He shouted, snapping his head to meet my eyes.

I was taken aback at his change of demeanor. He went from melancholy to enraged in the span of a
few seconds. I think anyone would be a little shaken.

“I messed up. I tried so hard make things alright, and all I've done is made them worse.
Shows what I know about strategy.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked slowly.

He looked at me and I could almost tell what his eyes showed me but he pulled away at the last
second. “Don't worry about it.”

My anger began to well up. “Don't tell me not to worry about it! Just saying that means
I'm going to worry about it more than if you hadn't!”

“That's not my problem.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is!”

He pushed himself off the wall and stood up, walking towards the door. I growled and followed
him. I felt a little head rush as I'd moved too quickly, but didn't care. I caught up to
him and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around to face me. His eyes were now streaked with tears
and my heart softened. He saw my change and wiped his eyes. I caught his hand in midair and
whispered, “Harry, please.”

He shook his head and took his hand out of my grip.

I continued to bear my eyes on him. “None of this is your fault.”

“Not in your eyes.” He said solemnly. He met my eyes and I shivered from the intensity. I
watched him drift closer to me, our eyes never breaking contact. I never realized how much taller
than me he was. It was safely a good four or five inches to be precise, but who's counting. I
tilted my head up to keep his gaze connected with mine, and suddenly, he stopped. We were a half of
an inch apart. I felt his breath on me and tried my best not to move. His hand lifted to make
contact with my cheek in a light caress. I thought he was going to kiss me up until the moment he
removed his hand away.

Pity, I would have let him too.

His eyes drifted down my body and he bit his lip nervously. “You dropped your sheet.”

My stomach collapsed to my feet as my eyes flew downwards and saw that he was right. I let out a
squeak and raised my arms up to cover most of my private parts. He seemed somewhat amused by my
attempts to hide myself. I think I would be, too, if our parts were reversed. After all, we had
seen each other naked before. Not that either of us could fully remember.

“I'll see you at the ball, Hermione.”

And with that, he left.

“Wait!”

He ignored me.

I huffed out an irritated breath. Knowing he was no longer there, I removed my hands and went
back to the bathroom to fetch the sheets. I found them bunched around the pointed corner near the
door. Rolling my eyes, I tied them around me once more just in case. It was only when I shut the
door to my room that I let Harry's last words sink in.

*The ball!*

A Masquerade Under the Stars was tonight, how on Earth could I have forgotten?! I hadn't
even bought a dress or shoes or—hang on.

I went over to my closet and opened the double doors. There, gathering only a pinch of dust, was
the box that contained my dream dress. Looks like my backup had just become my formal attire. How
ironic. I pulled out the box and set it on my bed, kicking the doors shut behind me. Opening it up,
I saw that it was just as beautiful as the last time I saw it. I smiled fondly and closed the box.
Looking over at the clock, I saw that it already eleven in the morning. Remembering I had a meeting
with the rest of the prefects who were helping, I rushed out of the room.

There were only a few people in attendance when I showed up, the rest filing in soon after.
Harry was late as usual and I had to avoid his gaze for risk of becoming too obvious. From what
I've read, it's very apparent when two people sleep together if you don't have the
experience to hide it. And as I've explained before, I don't. The last thing I needed right
now was to have my face read “*HARRY* *AND I* *SLEPT TOGETHER* *LAST
NIGHT**!**”* in red ink.

It was a brief meeting, thankfully. I went over a few rules, reminded everyone of their duties,
and repeated that the ball would end at midnight sharp, at which point the charm on the masks would
fade and everyone's identity would be revealed. It was quite a fascinating charm, too. It
didn't really hide the person's identity, it made said identity irrelevant. I dismissed the
meeting ten minutes after it begun and was relieved that Harry chose not to stay after.

I sat on the desk behind me and rubbed my temples, just wanting all of my stress to go away.
Life was never that simple.

I heard a faint knock on the door frame and saw Professor McGonagall come in with a box of the
masks she had demanded to be in charge of. She walked up and set the box down on the desk in front
of mine. She opened the box with a quick wave of her wand and I looked eagerly inside.

“They're beautiful.” I said breathily.

“I think so, too. The woman who makes them takes fine care in detail.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

A glitter of gold caught my eye and I saw a mask decorated with golden silk in-between a green
and a black mask of similar design. I picked it up carefully and observed the intricate swirls of
glitter and rhinestones placed so precisely against the fabric.

“The Heads get the first pick, of course.” She said coyly.

“Really?” I asked in excitement. She nodded and I let a wide grin spread on my face. I would
have hugged her if it was appropriate. “Thank you so much, Professor!”

“It's quite alright, Miss Granger. Do you know where I could find Mr. Potter?”

Just his name made my stomach curl uncomfortably. “It depends what time it is.”

She glanced at a clock behind me. “Nearly noon.”

“He's eating.”

She smiled and resealed the box. I watched her retreat out of the room and sighed. I looked at
the beautiful mask once more and held it delicately in my hand as I made my way back to my dorm to
put it with my dress. I heard my stomach grumble and quickened my pace.

When I saw Marie she was looking at me with an all-knowing expression. Wonderful.

“Oh, shut up.” I mumbled.

“I did not say anything.”

I scoffed. “You're not the only one who can read people. *Aide-memoire**.*”

She chuckled and opened the portrait. I climbed in carefully, trying not to use the hand that
was carrying the delicate mask. I climbed the staircase equally as slow. By the time I reached my
room, the clock read ten minutes past noon. My stomach let out another protest of hunger and I
rushed over to my bed to put the mask beside the box containing my gown. But that wasn't the
only thing on my bed.

There was a torn piece of parchment lying atop the box.

I set down the mask gingerly and picked up the scrap piece of parchment, thinking it was just
picked up by the wind. I knew that was a lie, because the window was sealed shut. Hedwig had made
it through more difficult mazes before though. I felt my heart begin to pound as I read the
note.

*Meet me at eleven in the middle of the dance floor.*** *-Joe
Blogg**s*.

-->



17. A Masquerade Under the Stars
--------------------------------



**A/N: I promised to keep you updates, so I shall. The current standings for my newest
fanfiction, in order, are:** **Hermione's Guide to Newfound Sorcery** **(35%),**
**Not** **Another Vampire Story** **(27%),** **Sex Ed With Poppy Pomfrey**
**(20%),** **Kiss and Make It Better** **(11%),** **Cut** **(4%),** **???**
**(3%). There was also some confusion on what type some of the stories fit into (Novel, Short
Story, One-shot, etc.), so I reedited the descriptions and the types are now underneath the title.
Make sure to keep on voting! The poll will be open for a few more weeks so stop by and see how your
top choice is doing. Thank you so much for participating already, though! Thanks to you guys, there
are already 97 votes.**

**Thanks to my favorite beta, Vincent, for making this chapter OD with awesome!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine, you lunatic! You would** **know** **if he
was…**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**A Masquerade Under the Stars**

*The nerve of him!*

*How dare he!*

*That* *bastard!*

Those were the thoughts that kept racing rapidly through my mind once I'd finished his note.
It was sad, really, that my brain could only muster enough strength to repeat those words again and
again without end.

The more piteous fact was that it had been a few hours since I'd thrown myself on my bed and
had a hissy fit. Yes, I just said hissy fit. I don't think there's any better way to
describe how I kept pounding my pillows and kicking my comforter. I probably looked like a
five-year-old having a tantrum because they didn't get their ice cream for dessert. How
juvenile I must have looked. Then again, it wasn't as if anyone could see me.

I finally gave up taking out my frustrations on my sheets and settled for lying face down on my
bed, thinking things through before letting my overreactions get in the way. It took a lot longer
than I thought. If anyone would have walked through my doorway, they would probably think I was
dead. That, or had just gotten hit with the Full Body Bind curse. I just lay there, trying my best
not to let bitterness get in the way of making my decision. Easier said than done, truth be told. I
couldn't think of saying “Yes” without having a voice in the back of my head scream of how much
he didn't deserve an answer that positive, if he deserved any answer at all. And it was right,
to an extent. There was still a part of me who wanted more than anything to see him in person. Even
if there was a charm from preventing me from discovering who he really was, I still wanted to touch
him. My inner girly-girl needed to make sure that he was real.

*But he broke your heart!* The voice of my subconscious screamed at me.

Yes, he did. But that didn't change the fact that I still loved him. And love makes you do
silly things like overlook all of his flaws for the chance to talk to him for the first time
without having to read anything, to hear his voice instead of imagining it. If I said yes, I would
see him, hear him, and touch him. Wasn't that what I wanted from the very beginning?
Absolutely.

Then what was holding me back?

Sure, he'd totally disregarded my feelings as he confessed his love for another, but the
only thing that changed was him. Not me. For once, I could be selfish. I could look past his
feelings and focus on mine, fully taking advantage of the hour we would be together. And, if my
plan fell though, well, I would only have to bear it for an hour. We would dance, we would
converse, and by the time that hour was up I would have the choice to find out who was behind the
mask. To see the man I fell in love with. Everything would change. It would all be for that moment.
Did the means justify the end? There are two sides to every coin, after all. He would see me for
who I really was and I would finally know his reaction of being pen-pals with the school
bookworm.

But, since he didn't share my feelings, it wasn't as if he would be suddenly repulsed.
He thought of me as a friend and nothing else. If anything, he would just walk away and I would be
left in the middle of the dance floor. Alone.

Oh, God, was I a pessimist or what? The only way to find out any of this out was to just go for
it. The majority of the dance, I would just be walking around all by my lonesome, making sure
everything was going according to plan. I deserved an hour to myself—with Joe. I didn't want to
waste a wonderful evening being lonely and wishing that I had given Joe one more chance. Maybe he
wouldn't even mention her. After all, it was a pretty momentous occasion. We had been talking
to each other since summer and this was the moment that the two of us had been waiting for. At
least, that's the impression that I got whenever we talked about it. I let the contents of all
of our letters rush through my head and nodded to myself reassuringly.

Yes.

And there was silence from the screaming banshee that was my subconscious.

“Alright, Joe. You win.” I mumbled.

I lifted myself up to my elbows and looked around the room, realizing how dark it suddenly
looked. My eyes fell upon the clock and saw that it was nearly seven. Shit. I was supposed to be
there by seven-fifteen to overlook the preparations with the other prefects. I looked around for my
dress box and saw the slightly blood-soaked sheet I had worn this morning lying in a heap at the
edge of my bed. I really needed to wash that. But since I was on a tight schedule, it would have to
wait.

I rolled off my bed and found the box containing my dress on the floor. Oops. Looks like I
accidently took out my emotions on my dress. I opened it up and saw no real damage. Pulling it out,
I laid it across my bed and meant to put the box away when I saw a pair of golden heels lying
precariously at the bottom. I hadn't even thought about shoes, but apparently whoever had
gotten me this dress had.

I quickly stripped and gingerly pulled on my dress, feeling it self-adjust to my body like it
had before. It still fit like a glove. I looked at my reflection in the window and smiled to
myself. I really did look a picture. The only thing that kept me from looking complete was my hair.
My frizzy, overly curled hair. Thinking of some hair charms that I had read about in *Witch
Weekly* once in Sue's shop one slow afternoon, I tried out a few styles that made my hair
look somewhat presentable. I ended up choosing a half-up style with my long bangs straightened and
pinned to the sides of my face while the rest of my hair was slightly curled and hanging around my
shoulders. Applying a small amount of nude makeup, I was ready and out of my door within ten
minutes, grabbing my mask on the way out. The shoes were like nothing I had ever worn. I could tell
they were also of magical origin, as they adjusted to my feet within seconds of me putting them
on.

I had to hold up the front of my dress while descending the stairs to prevent from tripping over
it. I paced myself as well, hoping that I could avoid any sort of accident this close to the ball.
Little did I know that I was making some sort of an entrance as I reached the bottom of the stairs.
Harry was leaning against the sofa and had his eyes glued to me like I was some sort of shiny
galleon. Oh, wait.

He didn't look half bad himself. He was wearing dress robes that looked simple but nicely
so. They were quite similar to the ones he had worn to the Yule Ball in our fourth year. Yes, I had
noticed. The only difference was that they were trimmed with gold. Looks like it was a popular
color this evening.

“Hermione you look… *wow*.”

I blushed and bit my bottom lip. “Thank you. You look very *wow* yourself.”

He smiled and extended his arm like the gentleman he was. “Shall we depart? I'm afraid
we're cutting it a bit close.”

I looped my arm around his and nodded. “We shall.”

Exiting the portrait hole, I caught a glance of Marie giving us a smirk on our way out. I shot a
glare at her and continued with Harry to the great hall. It wasn't as bad of a trip as I
thought it might be. The only thing that bothered me was my stomach, which felt very light at the
moment. But I chose to ignore that. It wasn't part of the plan. And if I didn't stick to
the plan, the night would end in shambles, I was sure of it. So, I put all of my feelings for Harry
at the moment on hold and focused on the night ahead. Again, it was easier said than done. But
somehow I managed it and soon after, we arrived at the great hall. There were a few people already
gathered there and we had to weasel our way to the front before getting the chance to enter. I
removed my arm from around Harry's and was struck by a cold breeze in the absence of his body
heat. But never mind that.

I knocked on the closed door three times and Professor McGonagall poked her head out and gave us
a look that made Harry and I flinch a little. “You're late.”

“By how much?” I squeaked.

“Three minutes.” She replied sternly.

I sighed as she pulled open the door to let Harry and I inside. But all of my thoughts of
embarrassment in arriving late were immediately extinguished by my awe at the state of the hall.
The ceiling was charmed to look like a starry night, complete with a shooting star going across its
length every few seconds. There were circular tables covered with sparkling crystal plates and
goblets, and navy tablecloths scattered about, outlining the dance floor in the middle of the hall.
There was a medium sized band stand complete with drums, guitars, and a keyboard—at least,
that's what they resembled. From what I remembered at the Yule Ball, they were very similar to
the Muggle instruments, but gave off sounds far more advanced than what I was used to hearing on
the radio. It was rather interesting, seeing as the Wizarding world still hadn't moved on from
records and turnstiles.

There was a refreshment and snack table filled with punch bowls and appetizers of every shape
and size. Seeing as I'd skipped both lunch and dinner, I knew that I would be seeing a lot of
that table within the next few hours. Until eleven, that is.

“Alright everyone, gather around!” McGonagall called from the dance floor.

I made my way over to her and was vaguely aware of Harry following closely behind. The rest of
the prefects were all here, as far as I could tell. The girls all looked ravishing in their ball
gowns, their hair all done up pretty and perfect, and their jewelry shining against their skin. The
guys were handsomely dressed in robes varying in color, cut, and trim. Interestingly enough, I
still think Harry was the one who remained on top. No surprise there.

“In ten minutes, we will open the doors to let the students inside. Now, Professor Dumbledore -
wherever he may be - and I are counting on you to keep your eyes open and alert throughout this
evening. A few other teachers will be around as well, but that does not mean that you are to
neglect your duties. We took a gamble allowing more people into this event and trust that you will
not let us down. But do try to enjoy yourselves. After all, this *is* a party.” There were a
few chuckles and she continued. “Please put on your masks at exactly seven-thirty. I trust you all
remembered them, and if not, you are to see me immediately as I have a few extras in my
office.”

She dismissed us a moment later and the crowd dispersed. I was about to sneak over to the
refreshment table when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see Hayley Elliott, one of
the prefects who had been in charge of the decorations. She was dressed in a silky pink number that
clung very snugly to her curves, her hair bunched up in the back of her head with a few clips,
complete with a necklace of white pearls dangling from her neck. Gods, she looked like Grace
Kelly.

“Hey, Hermione.”

“Hello, Hayley. What can I do for you?”

“I was just wondering if you liked the decorations. I was a little iffy about the dance floor
being in the middle and—”

I cut her off with a smile. “It looks wonderful. You should congratulate yourself on a job well
done. You and your fellow group mates.”

She let out a visible breath of relief. “Well that's a relief! I thought for sure that
you'd hate it.”

“Why would I hate it?”

“Well, I was told that you d—oh, hi Harry.”

She continued to look glassy eyed behind me and I turned to see Harry shooting her a dazzling
smile. I rolled my eyes and snapped my fingers in front of the poor girl's face. She stumbled a
bit in her place, but continued to look at Harry as if he was some sort of Roman god or
something.

“Hello Hayley. Do you mind if I steal Hermione for a moment?”

She shook her head furiously. “N-no. Not at all, go right ahead.”

He grinned and I swear I saw the girl melt into a puddle on the floor. Or maybe it was just my
imagination. Yeah, it was probably that.

Harry led me off to one of the tables and sat down. I pulled out one of the chairs and sat next
to him. He looked troubled, his confidant demeanor of a few moments ago gone as if a sudden wind
blew it. I was about to ask him what was wrong when he spoke up.

“I'm sorry about this morning, Hermione. I was a jerk.”

“What? No, you weren't. You were just a bit off your rocker is all.”

He chuckled. “That and many other things. I just wanted to apologize for not explaining
myself.”

I felt something bubble up in my chest. “And you're going to tell me?”

“No.”

I groaned as the feeling was squashed.

“Don't look so put out, you'll find out eventually.”

I crossed my arms around my chest. “What if I want to find out now?”

He gave me a look. “Then you'll be very disappointed.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and he smiled, leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek. I sat there,
frozen, not knowing what to do with the gesture. “What was that for?” I asked softly.

“For not hexing me when you woke up.”

“And why didn't you do that this morning?”

“Because you smelt like puke.”

My mouth dropped open and I gave him a shove on the shoulder. I meant for it to be more
intimidating, but I ended up smiling. I really needed to work on that if I ever wanted to get my
point across.

“Well, if it's any consolation, I'm sorry you had to wake up to me.” I said.

*That* certainly got his attention. I should add `Moment Wrecker' to my resume.

“Don't ever say that.”

“Why not? You were sorry for being a jerk, and now I'm apologizing for being a bad bed
buddy, for lack of a better word.”

“Well don't.” He said stiffly. “You have nothing to apologize for. From what I remember, you
were more than satisfactory in that department.”

I felt heat rise up to every visible patch of skin. “Umm… thank you, I guess.” I paused for a
moment. “But it's okay if you regret it.”

“I don't regret it, Hermione. Not one bit. Don't ever think you took advantage of me or
any of that other rubbish you were talking about earlier. I *wanted* it to happen, and if that
makes me a horrible person, so be it.”

I was speechless.

“I think you're an amazing person. And whoever this Joe guy is that caused you to sleep with
me, he's a moron for not seeing that.”

“You're gonna make me cry.”

“Yeah, that's usually the affect I have on women.”

I chuckled. “Not according to Hayley. I think she almost pissed herself when you smiled at her
like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know that smile that somehow manages to make all the girls in this school go
googly-eyed.”

“Oh *that* one.” He said mockingly. “Does it manage to get your knickers in a twist as
well?”

“Dream on, Harry.”

“Always.”

I didn't realize that I was smiling until I felt strain on my cheeks. How could he always
manage to make me feel better? Maybe it was a wandless charm or something. The same charm, it
seemed, that was causing me to lean forward to give him a quick peck on the lips. I pulled back an
instant after it happened, surprised that I did such a thing. We were still very close to one
another and I could see him looking at me with the familiar hazy eyes he had sported not so long
ago. Only this time, I wasn't scared. He began to lean forward, but the chime of a distant bell
caused us to jerk apart. I looked at a nearby clock and saw that it was seven-thirty.

Damn it all.

Harry leaned back with a small smile and reached inside his robes to pull out a simple black
mask that covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose. I took the hint and stood up, preparing to
walk over to the food table, but Harry's hand pulled me back. He was now standing up as well
and still hadn't put on his mask. His deep emerald eyes bore into mine and I soon found myself
lost in them. He raised my hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on my palm. I shivered at his
touch and felt at a loss when he turned and walked the other direction, putting on his mask on in
the process.

I sighed and turned away before I could be caught staring. I, too, put on my mask as I retreated
to the table. I didn't feel any sudden effect from the charm and instantly became worried. I
spun around, looking for someone I recognized to see if they had the same problem. Nothing. I
didn't see anyone I knew. That could only mean the charm must be in place. Professor McGonagall
had cast it herself, and she would never allow one mask to be void of the enchantment. At least, I
hoped so. Regardless, I reached the table just as the double doors opened to admit the other
partygoers inside. I heard the *ooh's* and *ahh's* that closely resembled how I
had felt upon seeing the décor. Hayley and company had really outdone themselves.

As my first conquest, I chose a few slices of bread and marmalade, closely followed by small
helping of celery sticks and mini quiches. Man, did I feel like a pig. But then I remembered that I
had barely eaten and continued to stuff my face.

There was a much larger turnout than I had expected. When the pen-pal system was first
announced, it seemed as though most of the student body couldn't care less. But now that I saw
all of the people in attendance, I didn't feel any remorse in saying that I highly
underestimated the student body. For once. Although I didn't recognize anyone, I still took
into account how elegantly dressed everyone was. I didn't feel as out of place as I once
thought. Sure, my dress was all I could wish for in beauty, but there was a small part of me that
thought that it would either be too beautiful or too plain. Thankfully, I fit right in. When I
first tried it on and pictured this night, I thought that Joe would be by my side and look at me as
though I wasn't real. But now that I was here, I had a completely different picture. I wanted
him to feel bad—no, I wanted him to feel *horrible* for breaking my heart. I wanted to show
him what he was missing. And hopefully, if things went according to plan, I would.

The band began playing about twenty minutes into the ball. It was of mixed gender this time
around and had a name that I didn't recognize. Perhaps they were of local fame and not the same
caliber as the *Weird Sisters*. The music was alright regardless, varying from upbeat tunes
with long guitar solos to slow tangos with piano melodies sweet enough to make you cringe. You know
what I'm talking about. All in all, it seemed as though everyone was having a grand time. But
all the while, I couldn't help but scanning the room and wondering which of the attendees Joe
was. Knowing he was this close to me made me feel a little more than uncomfortable. More like antsy
or something like that. I guess it was habit to feel this way whenever he was involved. Hopefully I
would be rid of it soon enough, because it was becoming a pain.

I kept on glancing at the clock every five minutes. Seven-forty, seven-fifty, eight,
eight-thirty…

The time was passing so slowly! These were the times I wished I had my old time turner back.
Granted, it could only go back in time, but it was the thought that counted. I should invent a time
turner that could go forward in time just for moments like these.

I spent the majority of my evening between going between the food table and a nearby circular
table to sit down when my heels became too much to bear. I had also walked the parameter of the
hall a good five or six times when I got especially bored. The trips hadn't made it better,
though. I saw plenty of couples dancing and in deep conversation as I walked, and that made me more
depressed than I was to begin with. That could have been me. Why couldn't Joe have said nine
instead of eleven? Stupid boy. I wasn't going to be in a good mood when I met him. I guess
that's what I get for agreeing, though. I could always stand him up, but that wouldn't be
fair.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

I was dozing off at one of the tables when the clock read five minutes to eleven. I immediately
got up and began my journey to the middle of the dance floor. It was more difficult than I had
originally planned to get to the direct middle. There were dancing couples and a few groups all
around me. I got the familiar sense of déjà vu and shivered. Hopefully I wouldn't have another
repeat of *that* anytime soon.

I ignored the voice that begged to differ.

There was a small space directly in the middle of the floor waiting for me. I was afraid that if
I stepped into it, a bright spotlight would bear down on me. But I didn't have the time to
second guess anything. It was all or nothing at this point. And Damnit, I wanted it all. I
wasn't standing there for a minute when I felt someone come up close behind me, their dress
robes only just brushing against me. I stiffened as goose bumps formed on my flesh. This was
*not* part of the plan.

“Anonymous?”

Oh my, was his voice masculine.

I gulped and nodded. “Joe Bloggs?”

“Yes.”

I was in deep shit.

I turned around and saw, in human form, Joe Bloggs, the man I had fallen in love with. The man
who broke my heart. He was smiling at me, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking
about. Was he just as blown away as I was? No, he was probably comparing me to the love of his life
with a name like Tiffany or Elizabeth.

“You look absolutely breathtaking.”

I felt heat rise up in my cheeks. “Thank you. You look very handsome yourself.”

He nodded in thanks and held his hand out in a gesture I found *very* familiar. Stupid
charm! If it wasn't for that, I would know who he was by now. His voice, his clothes, his
stance—everything seemed so familiar! Instead of remaining angry at how frustrating this was slowly
becoming, I took his hand and he spun me around the way you read about in books. I felt myself
becoming dizzy, but before I could catch my breath, he wrapped a strong hand around my waist and
pulled me against him. I looked into his eyes, a mind-blowingly familiar emerald color, and saw
them glittering like green glass. He moved his feet expertly around our little spot on the floor in
rhythm to the song the band was playing. I couldn't hold back a smile. He was living up to my
expectations, surpassing them, even.

“So.” He drawled. “We meet at last.”

“It's been a long time coming, I suppose.”

“That it has. I hope I'm not disappointing you.”

“Not in the least.”

The song soon changed to one much slower and I wrapped my arms around his neck out of reflex. He
responded by drawing me even closer to him and letting his arms rest on my lower back. This was the
moment. The moment I had imagined. It scared me. I wasn't supposed to give into him. He
didn't deserve that for what he did to me. But I couldn't help myself.

His hand began to trace a small circle I could feel through the fabric of my dress. I did my
best to try and remain calm, but he wasn't making it easy. Half of me wanted to murder him,
while the other half wanted to jump him. Merlin, was I a wreck. The only thing I could think of
doing at this moment was make him feel the way I was. I twirled a tuft of his hair between a few of
my fingers and felt him respond almost immediately. It wasn't too noticeable, but I had been
searching for a reaction and the misstep in his almost flawless dancing was enough of a reaction
for me.

“You never did write me back.”

I stopped twirling his hair. “No, I didn't.”

“I never got your response to my sudden emotional discharge.”

“No, you didn't.”

He stopped tracing the circle on my back and downgraded our dance style to moving from left to
right like most of the other couples near us. “Can I have one now?”

I stiffened, now fully out of the influence of his charming disposition. Looking up at him, I
said tensely, “What do you want me to say?”

“Well, I want you to say what you feel.”

He was asking for it. I stopped moving with him and gave him a look similar to a glare, but with
a little more spunk. “Do you really?”

“Yes.” He said, looking confused.

“I think that you have a lot of nerve to get my hopes up like that, only to shoot them down and
go running into someone else's arms.”

We were both standing still now, no longer moving with the crowd. “What?”

“You know damn well what I'm talking about! I gave you a lot more credit than you deserved.
I didn't think you would have the balls to bring it up again. But I guess you're just one
big disappointment to add to the list.” I said, my voice beginning to waver. “You just lost you
chance to make it up to me.”

“What chance, what are you talking about?”

“Stop playing dumb!”

“I'm not!”

I removed myself from his arms and began to move backwards. “I've had enough of this. It was
a mistake to come here.”

I turned around and began to speed walk away before I heard his reaction. But I did. He was
calling after me and that alone was enough to get the tears to start. I quickened my pace and as
soon I was free of the crowd and began to run towards the doors. I saw a few people turn to look at
me, but I didn't care. All I wanted to do was go to my room and cry. I should have listened to
that voice in the back of my head that told me to forget him. But no, I had to be noble and give
him a chance. A chance he royally screwed up, might I add. I was such an idiot.

I made it to the double doors and was relieved to find them open. I ran through them and stopped
to catch my breath. Crying and sprinting do not mix; I don't care what people tell you. I wiped
my tear stained cheeks and made to remove my mask, but I heard footsteps behind me. I made to begin
running again, but a tight grip on my arm prevented me from doing so. I tried to pull away, but his
grip was too strong. Nothing he could say would make me forgive him, so I didn't know why he
even bothered to come after me. I wasn't the kind of person to give third chances.

“I've never loved another.”

Correction: nothing could make me forgive him. Except that.

I turned around and his grip loosened on my arm to allow me to do so. He was staring at me with
an intensity to melt glaciers. “Look, I'm sorry if I gave off the impression that I never loved
you, because I do. I love you, Hermione.”

My stomach dropped to the floor. “How do you know my name? I thought we promised not to go
snooping around for each other's identity.”

“We did but—it was an accident.”

“How do you accidently find out who I am?” I asked angrily.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Fate, I guess.”

I shook my head and pulled my arm from his now barely there hold. He let me go probably because
he knew I wasn't going to run away. Not yet, anyway. “How long have you known?”

He bit his lip; a gesture I knew signified that I wasn't going to like his answer. “A few
months.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “And why didn't you ever tell me so we could avoid something like
this?”

“I wanted to prove to you that I was worth it.”

“That makes no sense. You'd already proved a while ago that you were well worth it.”

“I'm not perfect. I didn't necessarily think before taking action.”

I rolled my eyes. “That's obvious.”

He bowed his head down. The rest of the words that came out of my mouth were word vomit,
something that was on my mind ever since the beginning. “Why did you still stick around, anyway,
after finding out it was me?”

His head craned back up. “What do you mean?”

“The entire school views me as a shrew, a bookworm not worth anyone's time. What could have
possibly kept you around?”

“You don't get it, do you?” He took my silence as a yes. “By the time I found out it was
you, I promised myself that whoever you turned out to be, I wouldn't let it affect my feelings.
I was already talking to you with such an intensity that it didn't matter who you were, only
that you were the only person I had ever talked to like that before. You were such a beautiful
person inside that it never occurred to me that I wouldn't like you once I found out who you
were. When I first found out, yeah, I was freaked out, but mostly because the truth was so
blatantly obvious. I was in love with you when I found out, and I still am now.”

I shouldn't have bothered wiping my cheeks before. There were a dozen new tear-stained paths
that were leaking down to my chin. I sniffed and shook my head, trying to clear my mind before
talking. “Why didn't you just say it, then?”

“I tried, but apparently I used the wrong context.”

I let out a small laugh. He smiled at me and I spoke up in a coy voice. “What would happen if I
said I didn't love you back?”

“I would call you a liar.”

“And why is that?”

He pointed to my chest. “Because you're still wearing the crystal rose I gave you for your
birthday.”

I looked down and saw that he was right. I hadn't even noticed that I had been wearing it in
the first place. Damn. The things I do to give myself away. It was no wonder he'd figured out
it was me. And he wasn't even repulsed by it. That was enough to get me grinning like a
madwoman. I took a few steps toward him and did the one thing that I knew I needed to do before
asking anymore questions or telling him anything else. I kissed him. My arms wrapped around his
shoulders and I gave him all the emotion I could in that joining of the lips. He didn't do half
bad in response, either. His arms hugged me to him snugly and spun me around. I smiled against his
lips and as he put me down, began to pull away. He wasn't ready for that. He pressed himself so
close to me that I thought we were molding into one. His tongue plunged into my mouth and I swirled
my own around his in a dance that made something in my head begin to ring. Only when we were out of
air did we detach. And by the time that happened, we were both smiling and I could swear that I saw
a few tears of his own making their way down his face.

I pulled myself back and looked at him. We were still wrapped up in each other, but I didn't
mind.

“I love you.” I said in a whisper.

He smiled and then let it falter. “Hold onto that.”

I tilted my head in question. “Why?” He unwound his arms from my waist and took a few steps
back. I looked at him curiously as he began to pace back and forth. “What is it, what's
wrong?”

“It's going to be more difficult for you to accept who I am.”

“I don't think so. If you can accept me for me, than I'm certain that—”

“Hermione, this is different. I did some things I'm not proud of in order to gain your
trust, and now I'm not sure if they were for the best.” He paused and looked at me. “Please,
just promise me that you'll hold on to your `I love you' when you find out who I really
am.”

“I don't see why not.” I said cautiously. “As long as you're not some sleazy arsehole
who enjoys picking on children, I'm sure that I won't freak out too much.”

“I'm not Draco Malfoy, if that's what you're implying.”

“Well, that's a relief.” He didn't smile. “Please, just tell me. Whoever you are, it
won't affect my feelings for you. I love you.”

“It's not who I am, but what I've done.”

“You're scaring me…”

“Please.” He said in a despite plea. “Just repeat those three words to yourself, okay? For
me.”

I sighed and tried my best to put all of my fears behind me. There were a billion different
scenarios going through my head, each more terrible than the next. I owed him not to judge, as he
didn't disregard me once he had found out my identity. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.
When I reopened them, his back was to me as he began to take off his mask.

*I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.*

The black mask fell to the floor with a dull thud.

*I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.*

He began to turn around and I saw the side of his face come into view.

*I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.*

As if in slow motion, his full face came into my vision and I felt the words I was repeating
over and over again slipped and faded into the void. My self control followed suite without missing
a beat.

-->



18. To Be Desired
-----------------



**A/N: Bonjour! I'm so glad to hear all of your lovely remarks to my latest chapters. Sorry
about the late update, but it turns out that time wasn't on my side today. My beta didn't
even get a chance to look over this chapter before I posted it, so I take full responsibility for
any** **mistakes you see. For those who have been checking up on my Tumblr, you are more
up-to-date with the standing for the newest story. But, for those who haven't, here they
are:** **Not Another Vampire Story!****,** **Hermione's Guide for Newfound
Sorcery****,** **Sex Ed With Poppy Pomfrey****,** **Kiss and Make it Better****,**
**???****,** **Cut****. Remember, you can vote more than once and get your story up in
the ranks!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. Duh.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**To Be Desired**

The first time it came out as a whisper.

“Harry.”

He remained still and silent, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

“Harry.”

This time it was more firm; my emotions finally showing through the foggy void I put myself
into. I knew that repeating it one more time wouldn't make him go away, so I let my emotions
out in the only other way I knew how: Through physical violence.

*Smack*.

His head jerked to the side and he let out a small sound of surprise. I continued to stare hard
at him, sickly wanting to see him in pain. He didn't take long to turn back to me, his face an
emotional wreck. I felt no remorse.

“A month. You knew that I was Anonymous for one month, and you didn't tell me.”

“I told you, Hermione, I had to gain your trust before—”

“Before what?” I interrupted. “Before you took advantage of my trust and continued to write me
while I poured my heart out to you about some guy that I was hopelessly in love with?”

“It wasn't like that.”

“Oh, then please enlighten me.”

He gave me a hard look, which quickly softened. “You and I both know that we pretty much hated
each other for the first six years we went here.” I tried to interrupt again, but he pressed on and
overrode my comment. “So when we begun our truce, I was more than willing to give it a go. I would
be lying if I said that I didn't have my suspicions about who you were. But when I saw you
wearing the necklace that I gave you, I panicked. At first I thought it was because of you—of how
surprised I was that the one person I was growing to care about most in the world was also the one
person that I had sworn to hate. But after thinking about it, I realized that it wasn't. It was
what you would think about me if I told you who I really was. I had so many opportunities to do so,
but I didn't because I thought you would have a reaction like this.”

“Looks like you weren't far off.” I said hotly.

He gave me a look and continued. “So I wanted to win you over and gain your trust. But more
importantly, I wanted to prove to myself that I was capable of being more than just your
friend.”

“*That's* why you kissed me that night you came back?”

“Well, no, not at first. It was just a reaction to you being so close. It wasn't until we
were going at it that I realized what the situation was, then you pulled away with that look and I
knew you were feeling guilty.”

“Because I thought I was being unfair to Joe…”

He nodded. “I knew it wouldn't be as easy as I thought to win you over with Joe on your
mind. So, though Joe, I told you to give me a chance and let me in.”

My eyes narrowed. “So you're telling me that you manipulated me though Joe to make me give
you a chance, even though I was hopelessly in love with you through the letters you were sending
me, you slept with me, knowing that I was heartbroken with Joe's seeming rejection, and you
ignored every possible chance to fess up simply because you thought I would overreact, even though
prolonging it really made it worse.”

“Well when you put it like that…”

“It's horrible, Harry! Gods, I can't believe I let myself trust you. I should have seen
this coming; the signs were certainly all there. I was just too blind to take them as anything but
silly little inconveniences. It was stupid to think I would have my happily ever after. You
haven't changed a bit—you're still that eleven-year-old boy who crushed any hopes I had of
being normal. But this time, it's worse because instead of just crushing my hope, you crushed
my heart along with it.”

“Hermione, don't say that.”

“And why not? You've certainly ruined any chances you had of gaining my trust.”

“But that doesn't change the fact that you still love me and I still love you.”

I remained silent.

He gave me a pointed look. “If you gave me a chance to win back your trust, to prove to you that
my intentions were always to our benefit, would you reconsider?”

I thought about it for a moment. His eyes seemed sincere, but they also had when they were
feeding me lies about himself and his letter counterpart. For all I knew, he could be planning to
cause me even more hurt—a feat that I didn't deem as impossible, seeing the way this night was
turning out. I would be taking a great risk in letting him in again. But he was right, I did still
love him.

“I don't know, Harry. I need time to think about this.”

He nodded in understanding. “Of course.”

There was a pause and I heard a distant ring. The two of us turned to the clock behind us and
saw that it was five minutes to midnight. I knew the charm would wear off when the ball ended, but
now it didn't seem important. I reached to the mask on my face and pulled it off. I felt the
scene around me change and could see more clearly, as if the mask had acted as some form of foggy
lenses.

Harry was still near me, looking around the entrance hall uncomfortably. I wrinkled my nose and
began to walk up the stairs. I heard Harry shift behind me and turned around slowly. He was a few
steps behind me, on the first step.

“Space, Harry. I need space, too.”

He sighed. “As you wish.”

I smiled sadly and continued my way up the stairs. The trip was a silent one without him beside
me. Maybe I shouldn't have asked for space. No. It was for the best. The only way I would make
an educated decision is without his interference. End of story. I asked for space for a reason, it
didn't matter how lonely I would become without his presence near me. I had lived the majority
of my childhood alone, so why was this any different.

*Because now you know what it feels like to have a friend. And then some.*

I rolled my eyes as I neared Marie's portrait. Although true, it didn't mean that I
couldn't handle myself alone. All I had to do was get into my old habits.

Marie was still awake by the time I reached her. She was looking at me oddly.

“What?” I asked, my tone more harsh than I had meant.

“Nothing, I just didn't think that you would be returning alone this evening.”

“If you're talking about Harry—”

“Well of course I'm talking about Harry!” She interrupted, surprising me.

“We're going through a rough patch at the moment is all.” I explained calmly.

She raised an eyebrow and I spoke the password, hoping to avoid any more sass from her. She let
me inside and I practically stormed into the common room. It was empty, not that I expected
anything less. But I knew this was only the beginning. It was only a matter of time before it hit
me. And as if on cue, I felt my heart begin to race and placed my hand atop it, trying meekly to
settle it before I began a full-out meltdown. But one thing I didn't expect was to feel cool
metal against the palm of my hand. The necklace. I had once again forgotten about the necklace I
hadn't removed since receiving the present four months earlier.

Knowing what I had to do, I reached both hands to the back of my neck and unclasped the
necklace. I held it in my palm and studied it for a moment, admiring how truly beautiful it was.
When I first received it, I couldn't believe that something like it existed. The sparkle of the
crystal was still enough to render me breathless and I had a harder time setting it down than I had
originally thought. It had become a part of me, and letting it go was like letting Joe go. But that
is what I had to do if I wanted to think about Harry's offer. I had to give up the present as a
sign to myself and him that I could give up that part of my life if I chose to do so. So, before I
could decide against it, I placed the necklace on the table nearest to me and continued to my
room.

I felt a small part of me stay behind with the necklace, as silly as it may sound. I pressed
forward. My room was exactly the way I left it, the dirty sheets still piled in the corner. I
looked at them with an odd sense of attachment. Washing them would wash away the bond me and Harry
had shared last night. But wasn't that what I was trying to do? I had to rid myself of anything
that would sway my decision. I picked up the sheets and found my wand on my bedside table. Inhaling
Harry's scent once, I cast a cleaning charm and walked them back into his room.

Gods, even his room was making me feel horrid. I was supposed to hate him and here I was acting
like some love struck moron. I threw them atop his bed and rushed out of there as quickly as I
could. Soon after I closed my door, I felt the tears well up. I didn't try to stop them.
Ridding myself of the sadness and hurt would only benefit me in the end. Little did I know that I
had *a lot* of emotions to empty.

I collapsed against the door and sobbed. I sobbed for the past, I sobbed for the present, I
sobbed for how much I had on my shoulders to decide the future, but most of all, I sobbed for Harry
and how much love and hate I had for him. I hated him for making me love him, and I loved him for
everything else; his smile, his laugh, his presence. It was maddening. He did everything wrong and
yet I couldn't not love him.

After what seemed like a lifetime, I mustered up enough strength to get up and undress myself. I
put the dress away, undid my hair and make-up, and found some pajamas to sleep in. After a night
like this, I had to at least attempt to get some shut eye, even though I hadn't stopped
crying.

Merlin, help me.

~*~

The weekend came and went, and I never left my room. Ever. When I was hungry, I simply went down
to the great hall, nibbled on something for five minutes, and returned to my room. Now, don't
go thinking I spent the whole time moping. I had gotten over that phase within a day. All my time
was focused on writing. Yes, writing. I had about three parchment papers filled front to back with
reasons why and why not to agree with Harry's offer. I won't bore you with specifics, but
right now it was fifty-fifty. I have been trying for hours to think of anything else to add, but it
was simply impossible. Whatever my decision was, it would have to be on a limb. I had to leave it
up to chance..

Monday came too soon and I had to return to reality. It was the first day back at school after
break and I was a nervous wreck. Sure, I was already well ahead in all of my classes, but now that
I was suffering from emotional turmoil, I wouldn't be on the top of my game. And that, more
than anything, would be enough to turn me into some sort of crazy person.

I got ready at my normal pace and grabbed my book bag where I had left it in the common room, on
top of the sofa. As I exited, I had the urge to look behind me at one of the tables. It was empty.
It was only after a moment that I realized it was the place that I had set my necklace. Harry must
have found and taken it back up to his room or something. I felt a small stab of guilt, but quickly
disregarded it. I had to be unbiased. I had to work on *my* best interests and not his.

I exited the portrait hole in a rush, wanting to get out of the common room quickly. Marie
remained silent as I left. She hadn't spoken a word to me the whole time I had been in exile
for reasons I didn't know. I had been meaning to ask her, but unfortunately I had other things
to worry about other than why the entrance to my common room was acting odd.

The great hall was abuzz with conversation when I arrived. Through not entirely full, the
excitement and horror of the first day back was very much present in the way the blur of voices
echoing off the walls. I took my seat and grabbed a slice of toast. Taking a jar of nearby
marmalade, I spread it along the bread and took small bites as I had become accustomed to these
past few days. I hadn't even finished half of my “meal” when I sensed someone looking at me.
Knowing who it was even before I turned, I still felt a small pulse of emotion wash over me when I
caught Harry's eyes from halfway across the table. He looked very tired, the bags under his
eyes visible from my position at the other end of the table. He gave me a small wave and I lowered
my head, not wanting him to see me at a time like this, even if he was the cause. The feeling of
his gaze on me lingered for a few more seconds before quickly disappearing. I sighed and dropped my
toast, not feeling up to eating anymore.

As the timetables were passed out, I saw that I had to begin the day with Defense Against the
Dark Arts. Sighing, I left the great hall and made my way to the classroom, ignoring the sensation
of eyes on my back as best as I could.

Professor Tonks was already there when I arrived. I set my things at my assigned desk and took
out my supplies. She set down her copy of *The Daily Prophet* when she heard my presence in
the room. Her curly blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail today, accentuating her high
cheekbones. Underneath her robes, I spotted a periwinkle blue shirt that reminded me vaguely of
Gilderoy Lockhart when he was still my hero.

“You're here awfully early today, Hermione.” She commented.

I smiled softly. “I just want to get a head start on today's lesson is all. What is it that
we're going to be doing today?”

“I was planning on reviewing dueling. You know, have an easy first day back.”

I nodded. “Alright, then.”

I sat down in my seat and began reading a passage on dueling techniques. I heard the heels of my
Professor's shoes approach me and rose my head up to see her looking at me with an unreadable
expression. “Dueling isn't something you can perfect with reading.”

“I know I was just…”

“Distracting yourself?”

I stared at her.

“Hermione, affairs of the heart cannot be ignored by stuffing your face in a book, I'm
afraid. My advice to you is to let your emotions come out in a healthier way. Don't try to
ignore something that is right in front of your nose.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

She raised her brow. “Keeping things inside is the easiest way to a heavy heart. Simply follow
your heart, and your choice will seem easier than first assumed.”

I avoided her eyes. “Following your heart can sometimes lead to horrid consequences.”

“But more times than not, they're worth the trouble.”

And with that, she departed back to her desk. I knew a sign when I saw one. Apparently, I had
been going about this the wrong way. Instead of approaching it with strategy and planning, all I
had to do was wait for something to happen that would sway me to the right answer. Foolish as it
may seem, I think it could work. The tied pros and cons weren't any help. What did I have to
lose?

Don't answer that.

The rest of the class filed in within ten minutes, and I was waiting patiently at my desk. I
felt Harry sit beside me, his jumper bushing against my arm and causing goose bumps to erupt along
the clothed skin.

Well that was quicker than I thought. I was sure it would take longer for a sign to show up and
sway my decision. You would think something as small as goose bumps were insignificant, but not to
me. A week ago I would have dismissed it as an unneeded feeling that your body produced to make you
aware of someone's affect on you. Even though that may be true, there was one thing that
remained the same. Instead of feeling a fire of hatred and malice stir up in my stomach, I felt a
tingly feeling sweep through me first, which proved that my love for him overshadowed even powerful
feelings such as anger.

And all this took place in the spawn of three seconds. Who would have thought?

The bell rang soon after and brought me back to life, so to speak. Professor Tonks was at the
front of the class and clapping her hands to gather the attention of the students. The chatter soon
died down and she flashed us a smile.

“Now today we will be reviewing dueling. I know that you may have covered it before, but have
not had the chance to practice it *inside* the classroom.” -A knowing chuckle sounded from
many of the students, including myself- “Your partners have already been assigned as the person
sitting next to you. So if you would please join me in the front of the classroom so I can push all
the tables to the side.”

I followed the rest of the class to the front of the room and felt Harry trail me from behind.
When the last few students made their way to join the crowd, Tonks joined her hands in a
prayer-like gesture and separated them slowly, causing the desks to fly to the walls. There was
little mess and a very open space in the middle of the room enough for many pairs to duel at
once.

“The rules are simple: Keep it clean and only use spells to disarm your opponent. If I catch
anyone abusing these rules, you will receive a zero for the day. Now, have at it!”

I found a spot towards one of the corners and turned to see Harry looking at me with a numb
expression. I raised my wand to my forehead and bowed, him following suit. After a few days without
talking, this was going to prove to be an interesting encounter, I was sure of it.

“*Expelliarmus!*” I called.

He blocked it easily with a simple deflecting charm. And so the duel began.

It was calm and simple at first, with normal disarming charms and a few stinging hexes. We had
been at it for a good ten minutes before we both began to pick up our game.

“I just thought you should know, before we get stopped for the worst duel ever.” I said, looking
at him pointedly. “That I made up my mind.”

He perked up at that. “And what would it be?”

I smiled and took a dramatic pause, liking the eager look on his face a little too much. “You
had better do something pretty spectacular to prove your point.”

He smiled and threw a jelly-legs curse at me.

We didn't want to hurt each other. But the point of a duel was to prove too your opponent
that you were superior, that you would always come out on top. I could tell by the look on his face
that he was taking this opportunity to prove his point. He had always been a spectacular dueler,
which I knew for a fact, but I wasn't half bad myself, reading on the techniques and practicing
some rarely known jinxes and curses for just an occasion. It was brain versus brawn, take one.

Little did we know that halfway through the hour, we had drawn a few onlookers. We were so
engulfed with each other's movements and spells, that everything else seemed irrelevant. We
both got lucky at different times, each having weak points. He caught me with a jelly-fingers jinx,
causing me to drop my wand and then shoot a stinging hex on my left wrist. I had muttered the
counter jinx and waited until he stumbled slightly on his right ankle before reversing his knees in
a rare hex that I had read about in a book describing historical duels of the early Wizarding
age.

His fall had caused a few more people to gather around us. I then cast an *Expelliarmus* at
his wand and flew it out of his hand. Smirking, I folded my arms and waited for him to surrender.
But to mine and many others's surprise, he reversed the hex and silently summoned his wand.

I quickly shielded myself before he shouted “*Impedimenta**!*”

The curse bounced off and hit a nearby portrait, which wobbled slightly from the impact of the
curse but otherwise remained intact. Our cat and mouse game continued for a few more minutes before
he found my weak spot. While I was gathering will to shoot a more powerful jinx, he interrupted me
by shouting “*Stupefy!*”

I flew back a few inches and my back collided with the ground. I let out a noise of pain and
tried to remain still. Small shots of pain moved throughout my lower back and head from the impact
and I groaned. I heard Harry come up next to me.

“Hermione! Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“*Stupefy!*”

He flew a good five feet away from me and I heard a collective gasp around me. I ignored the
pain in my back and got up. He was lying on his back near Professor Tonks's feet. She was
smiling slightly and I had to control one of my own as I approached him, bending down on my knees
and taking his wand out of his right hand.

“You're going to have to try harder than that to win me over, Harry.”

And with that I placed his wand behind my ear and turned to walk away. I heard the sound of
clapping around me and turned to see Tonks bringing her hands together slowly. I smiled at her and
moved my way through the crowd of students. I placed Harry's wand atop one of the desks and
left the classroom with my book bag on my shoulder.

The applause of many more hands followed me my whole way out.

~*~

The rest of the day was uneventful compared to my victory first period. Harry had taken to
ignoring me for every other class, choosing to cling to Weasley. It didn't bother me at first,
but when I reached lunch and didn't catch his eye once, I began to get worried. I had given him
a chance to redeem himself and he was deliberately shaking it off like it was nothing. I thought I
meant more to him than that. You would think that he would have tried everything in the book by now
to win me back, but he was simply pissing off. Even if they wouldn't have worked, it was the
thought that counted, the sense that he was still there and fighting. Maybe following my heart was
the wrong decision.

And to top it all off, I had to end my day with Potions. Isn't life just swell?

The scent of an unfamiliar concoction filled the dungeons when I arrived five minutes before the
start of class. Usually when I entered the classroom, I knew what was brewing, having read every
book in the library about potions and how to recognize them. The smell was a mixture of lemon,
grass, and mint, or at least, from what I could tell. In fact, when I thought about it, it smelt
very much like laundry detergent in here. Odd.

I took my seat and flipped through my book, looking for any potion that gave off the same scent
of the one that was on display. I was still buried deep within the text when the bell rang. I
sighed and put the book down, admitting defeat. Professor Snape strutted to the front of the
classroom and gave the class a sneer, as was custom.

“Turn to page 193 in your books.”

I flipped to the page and rolled my eyes. How could I have missed it?

“Desire. Want. These are the emotions that plague the mind and ensnare out very thought at the
peak of our emotional age. There are very little potions in the world that tend to these and for
good reason. It is dangerous to toy with such emotions without dire consequences. Some potions like
it include Amortentia, which you have learned about previously. But unlike the love potion, this
sister concoction does not attend to infatuation, only pure want. Yes, Anhelo is the one potion in
the world that gives you the extra push to take the measures needed to obtain the one thing in the
world that you desire.”

A hand went up in the back and Snape motioned with his hand. “Yes, Mister Zabini?”

“So if we really wanted a sandwich, the potion would lead us to get it?”

A chorus of laughter sounded from a few members of Slytherin house. I could also hear the
Gryffindor's roll their eyes in perfect unison.

“Interesting analogy, Mister Zabini, but yes, that is one of the uses of the potion. Its power,
however, is only limited to a confined amount of time. You see, the more time you spend on the
potion, the more time you have to act out your desires—yes, Miss Parkinson?”

“What if we had more than one desire at a time?”

“The potion only affects the strongest. You see, all desires are categorized differently in the
mind, and Anhelo recognizes the foremost and allows the body to act. Your assignment today is to
make the Anhelo in ten minutes. Ten minutes of effort will transpire into ten seconds of Anhelo
effects. I will randomly choose one student at the end of the class to demonstrate the potion.
Begin.”

The class scrambled to the supplies cabinet and got to work. The ingredients were simple and
direction only complicated to those who chose not to put any effort into the class. So, in other
words, all of the Slytherin's, save a few, had black smoke coming from their cauldrons within
five minutes. Since I had to share a table with Neville Longbottom and Parvarti Patil, I had to
give them each verbal help as I worked on my own. I would never let another Gryffindor fall. I
turned my head to see Harry concentrating hard on his potion as well, ignoring Weasley and Dean
Thomas's conversation on Quidditch.

Time was up before I knew it and my potion only just turned the correct shade of violet before
we were asked to bottle our potions and label them with our names. I placed mine on his desk
quickly and returned to my seat with an unsettling feeling in my stomach. When everyone else had
turned in their samples, I saw many blacks and browns and only five correct shades that matched
mine. How disappointing. I was really looking forward to seeing someone act out what they actually
desired. I hadn't read up on the side effects of a bad potion yet, and only hope that it
wasn't too horrible. Hopefully it was only the opposite and made them act out the thing they
didn't want. Well, that wasn't a very good outcome, but at least it wasn't the worst of
what could happen.

Snape's hand began to hover over the pile of vials and the entire class shifted; each not
wanting to be the unfortunate soul to try their own potion. This was one of the reasons I
didn't favor Snape as a professor. He deliberately manipulated and humiliated his students to
amuse himself, probably the most unprofessional thing one could do. But I wasn't worried. If I
was chosen, I would accept it with confidence and not give him the satisfaction of making me
squirm. Besides, I was really in the mood for chocolate and the potion would probably just make me
sniff it out of one of the girl's bags.

His hand finally ceased in movement and grabbed one of the violet potions. Despite my
confidence, I shifted a bit as I saw him read the name on the tag. He smirked at once and turned to
my left.

“Mister Potter.”

I saw Harry stiffen and mumble something along the lines of “Of course…”

He pushed his stool back and strode up to the front of the classroom without a waver in his
step. I was rooting for him. I knew about his and Snape's rows and didn't want to be a
witness to another. So far so good. Harry reached the front of the classroom and took the vile from
Snape's boney fingers. I held my breath as he uncapped and downed it in one gulp. He didn't
look any different at first. But then his body relaxed and his eyes settled on me.

Oh my sweet Merlin.

In no less than one second he rushed over to my seat, yanked me up, and pressed his lips to
mine. I heard a collective gasp go around the room, along with a few vomiting sounds. The kiss was
enough to make me disregard them, though. It was pure fire, pure *need*. The one thing in the
world that he wanted was me, and this kiss was enough to prove it. It wasn't very graphic,
kiss-wise. I felt myself being dipped down as he moved his lips around mine like a dream. I reached
onto his jumper and grabbed a hold of it to keep myself steady. Nine seconds went by in a rush and
soon, we detached, both short of breath and starring at each other.

“And then you have the hopeless romantics who ruin it all.” I heard Snape mutter from behind
us.

I felt myself turn red as Harry pulled me up and I looked around the room. All eyes were on us.
It was more a reflex than anything when I brushed past Harry to grab my things. I felt hard eyes on
me as I put my bag on my shoulder as I made for the door.

“Miss Granger, where do you think you're going?”

I turned back and saw Snape glaring at me. I turned my attention to Harry and said, “I'm
sorry, Harry. I need more than to be desired.”

And with that, I left.

-->



19. Oh no, not an Author's Note!!
---------------------------------



Dear, lovely, amazing, friggin awesome readers,

No update this week, sorry. I thought I would have time, but it turns out my plans ran longer
than expected. I'm not going to apologize because I *really* need a day of rest after
these past few days. But I'm sure you're all used to it by now, right? Heh.

So I'll update next week at the regular time, and since I've already started the
chapter, I'll probably post a sneak preview later this week on my Tumblr, so tune in!

xShar
(the_real_mrs_potter)

-->



20. The Game
------------



**A/N: Happy Easter!! Thank you all sooo much for understanding my need for a day off, it means
a lot to me. I really hope you like this last chapter because I'm pretty happy with the way it
turned out. Keep in mind that this is the LAST CHAPTER BEFORE THE EPILOU****GE! (Yeah, it did
need all caps)** **So** **don't panic just yet. Feel free to share any thoughts about how
you think the epilogue is going to go. Who knows, you may be right or give me another idea to make
it better :)**

**Update for new story: It's pretty much between two stories by now. In first place is**
**Hermione's Guide to Newfound Sorcery****, 643 votes. In second,** **Not Another
Vampire Story****!****, 427 votes. Voting will be open for one week** **after** **the
Epilouge is posted, so you still have time to duke it out for your favorite and maybe knock one of
the top contenders out of the running!**

**Special thanks to my beta, Vincent! I think I'll keep you around for awhile, lol.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**The Game**

Maybe leaving Potions class was a bad idea.

Since it was my last class of the day, I didn't need to worry about missing out on much when
I locked myself away in my room. Was I being immature? Not likely. Was I overreacting a bit?
Perhaps, but I don't think anyone else put in this situation would react any differently. Not
that I would know, although I had an inkling that it would go about in a similar fashion. But he
had no right. No right at all to act the way he had. Harry had known for *months* that we were
writing each other and chose to ignore his better judgment and press on with his… his… Harry-ness!
Gods, how could I be so ignorant? The signs had all been there and I was just too blind to see
them. Even as early as our first few weeks of writing, I was handed the answer on a silver platter.
He had come into a freaking stationary store in search of new parchment; I had run into him buying
something from an owl supply shop.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Because of my ignorance, I was now buried deep within the depths of my bed, clinging to a pillow
for dear life, and trying my hardest not to scream. All of this “playing hard to get in order to
teach him a lesson” thing really wasn't working out too well. Instead of feeling any source of
victory or glee, I just felt empty. Was that normal? No, I don't think so. Looks like I'm
not cut out for this evil, manipulative, bitch-type behavior. Thank Merlin. I'd rather be
curled up in the library than here any day. How do other girls deal with this kind of crap? They
must have no soul or something.

I heard a knock at the door, but ignored it. Only one person had access to this room and I
didn't want to continue this charade any longer with him. I had meant what I said. I needed
more than desire from him. Sure, desire was a part of love, but it wasn't the entirety. You
still needed faith, compatibility, trust, and so many more sensations. Love was just one big math
problem, you needed a compilation of specific emotions to make it work right, otherwise, all you
had was a heavy heart. And right now, that's exactly what I thought was happening. My chest
felt like a ton of bricks had been placed directly over the blood-pumping organ. I couldn't
exactly place how or why I was reacting like this to something I had said, but I didn't want to
think about it. All I could place in my mind right now was a confusing mixture of anger and
perplexity. Oy vey.

The knocking continued and I covered my ears with the palms of my hands. *Go away*, I
thought. Granted, I really should have said that aloud, but at the moment I wasn't exactly at
the top of my game. What I really needed right now was a pepper-up potion to calm down the massive
headache I felt coming on.

“Hermione, please open the door.” Harry's muffled voice came through the wooden barrier.

“No.”

“I'm sorry about Potions.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” I lied.

“Liar.”

I couldn't resist letting a smile spread. He knew me well, I can give him that much. But
that's only one-one thousandth of the love equation. I needed more than that, and if he had
learned anything from Potions, he should know.

“Why can't we just talk?”

“Because I—”

I paused and thought about it for a moment. There was nothing. He had every right to come in
here and explain himself, even though I desperately wanted him not to. There was nothing holding us
back but me, and I had already been selfish enough. So before the hesitation could pull me back any
further, I lifted myself from the confines of my bed, disentangled my limbs from the pillow, and
opened the door.

He looked miserable. His eyes were downturned and shone with a certain sadness that made my
heart lurch. His clothes were ragged, as though he had gotten in a scuffle before he had come.
There was also a sheen of sweat on his brow that I assumed meant he had run here. All in all, it
was more than enough for me to move to the side to let him in.

His arm brushed aside mine as he entered, looking around the room for a moment before turning
around to face me. I nodded towards the fireplace and followed him to sit on the floor just in
front of the dull flames. He took a breath and I reminded myself to listen to him. Yes, he
didn't deserve it, but the fact was that he was still *here*.

“I'm just going to skip the rest of the apologies, if that's alright with you.” He said
evenly.

I nodded. “I think you've used up enough of my time by repeating them.”

He flinched and I immediately felt guilty for being so cold. Gods, I was such a bitch. But
before I could apologize, he continued in the same even tone. “I just wanted to say that you were
right. Today in Potions was completely unintentional, and I didn't mean for it to be my act of
proving myself. So I came here to ask for another chance.”

“Don't you think I've given you enough of those by now?”

“You've given me more than enough. But I just—Hermione I need you in my life, and if I can
prove that to you, I'll be the happiest man on Earth. I can't think of a world without you
anymore. You've become the single most important person in my life and I've been an idiot
not to treat you right. You deserve so much more from me, and I think that if you give me just one
more shot, I can prove it.”

And of course, Hermione the pessimist came out by saying, “And what if you can't?”

He didn't miss a beat. “Then I hope that you will find someone who will do all the things
I've done, but better.”

There was a pregnant silence before I made up my mind. To tell you the truth, I had made it up
the moment I saw him, but hearing his explanation just made it all the better. “Alright. But you
have to do it by tomorrow, because I don't know if I can take much more of this.”

A large close-lipped smile replaced his earlier frown and I felt my gut lurch a bit. “You
won't be disappointed, I promise.”

And then he pulled me close and hugged me to his chest. I didn't realize how much I missed
being close to him like this. The last time this happened was the day he barged into the common
room all battered up, and we all know what happened after that. But even though I wanted
desperately for that to happen just one more time, I settled for returning the hug briefly and then
pulling back. He didn't seem very disappointed that I did so, but I figured he had expected as
much. He placed a tender kiss on my cheek and then left without a word.

*One more chance, Harry,* I thought. *I really hope you don't muck it all up.*

Not long after he left, I lay down in front of my fireplace and soaked up the warmth of the fire
against my skin. If someone had told me six months ago that I was waiting for Harry Potter to prove
that he was good enough for me, I would have sent them to a funny farm. But now, it was all that
was on my mind. I kept on wondering what he was going to try, what he was going to do. There were
billions of possibilities, each more cheesy than the next. And every single one of them was giving
me a headache. If only there was a place that could allow me to forget all of this, if only for a
moment.

My back stiffened as I realized there *was* a place like that, and it was only a few
minutes walk.

I didn't bring anything but the clothes on my back as I exited the common room. And
thankfully, I didn't pass Harry, either. He must be in his room, thinking. I quickened my pace
as I opened and closed Marie's portrait. I didn't even bother to look back. Since she was
still giving me the silent treatment, I don't think she minded much as long as I didn't
slam her against a wall or something.

The walk was short, as I had remembered. I reached the familiar corridor and paced three times
in front of the blank wall that most people wouldn't pay any mind to. But since Harry had shown
me the room a few weeks ago, I now had somewhere that could serve as a neutral non-thinking ground.
All I had to do was think of a place that could help me relax and the room would provide me with
one. At least, that's what I was going for.

A door appeared immediately after my third pace and I opened it quickly, shutting it behind me
immediately after I had entered. The lights of the room dimmed to life and I found myself in a room
very similar to a library. Of course. The walls were all lined with bookshelves from floor to
ceiling in what I assumed to be alphabetical order by author, because if they weren't, my
stress level would only be worse because I'm picky like that. The floor was covered in maroon
plush carpet that felt like heaven beneath my shoes. I made a note to take those off later. In the
dead center was a very large sofa that reminded me of the one in my own home. I spent many of my
early days there reading, watching the telly, or spending time with mum and dad. All of the
lighting was minimal and came from a few well placed wall lamps. It wasn't a large room, but it
was just what I needed.

I slipped off my shoes and walked over to one of the bookshelves, pulling a random book from one
of the nearby shelves (and yes, they were alphabetized), and settled into the plush couch to begin
reading. I made it through the first ten chapters before falling asleep.

*“**Miss Granger**…”*

*I opened my eyes to the familiar voice. It took a moment to get adjusted to the bright light
fixtures around me. The room I was in was all white, with one big light shining down on me. I felt
a small pain* *in my chest and hissed* *as I took in a large breath.* *It hurt,*
a lot*. But breathing only made it worse. I tried to control the air entering and leaving my
system in small bursts. I go**t the pain to subside a little* *within a few seconds and
looked around for the source of the voice that had awoken me.*

*I saw the smiling face of a woman in her late thirties with golden hair and bright hazel eyes
looking down at me, clutching a clipboard. She was wearing a healer's uniform that I recognized
from my few trips to St. Mungo's hospital. So that was where I was—in St. Mungo's.*

*“Nice to see you awake, Miss Granger.”*

*“How long was I asleep?”*

*She glanced at her clipboard for a moment. “Three days.”*

*“Three days?!” I shouted, not being able to control my surprise.*

*“Now, now, calm down, Miss Granger. It's perfectly normal to remain unconscious for long
periods of time in your condition. In fact, three days is considered to be minimal.”*

*Alright, now I was even more confused. “Condition, what condition?”*

*She tilted her head to the side. “You mean, you don't remember?”*

*“Obviously not,” I hissed.*

*She scribbled something down on her clipboard without taking her eyes off me.*
*“I'll go and fetch your doctor for you,* *then;* *he'll explain everything to
you.”*

*“Wait!”*

*But she had already left the room.*

*I leaned back in the squishy hospital bed and heard it crunch underneath me. Obviously, the
nurse knew something I didn'**t**, and the only indicator that I had any sort of
“condition” was the ever-present pain in my* *chest, which seemed to double* *as I got
more annoyed. I made a note to write a letter to St. Mungo's later and complain about the
treatment of patients as soon as they woke up after a three day nap. You would think the person in
the room would fill you in. A family member, at least!*

*At the thought of family, I twisted my neck all around the room, looking for the small alcove
reserved for chairs and tables to be occupied by friends and family. I found one to my left against
the only window in the room. It was small; only two chairs and a small rounded table with a vase of
pale pink flowers.*

*It was empty.*

*I had expected to see my mum at least, but the alcove was simply empty. It looked as though
no one had touched a thing. Nothing was out of place, no candy wrappers or Styrofoam drink cups
half full. Nothing. The pain in my chest increased a few more notches and I placed a hand atop it
in a feeble attempt t**o ease the discomfort**. The skin beneath my hospital gown was
pulsing in time with the shocks of pain and I had to fight back the tears in my eyes.*

*I was saved from any unnecessary sobbing by two people entering through the doorway. The
healer who* *had pissed me* *off was first to enter, taking her place by my bed where she
had been before.* *Behind her was who I assumed to be the doctor she went to fetch. He
appeared to be a little older than she, with graying brown hair and matching dull eyes. He also
carried a clipboard, but his was at his side, and a pen was clipped to an outer pocket of his
robes.*

*“How are we feeling, Miss Granger?” He asked in a gentle voice.*

*“Confused, worried,* annoyed*.” I aimed the last phrase at the healer, who seemed
unperturbed by my attitude.*

*“All perfectly acceptable emotions, my dear. Now, I've been told by Healer Fowl that you
are unaware of why you are here. Is this true?”*

*“Yes.” I said in as patient of a voice I could muster.*

*He nodded once. “Have you ever heard of Infractus Viscus, Miss Granger?”*

*“No sir. I'm not very familiar with any sort of medical terms.”*

*“**Put simply**, it's a big phrase for a* *complex**, incredibly rare
condition of the heart.”*

*It was only then that I realized the hand still covering my chest was directly over my heart.
The pain I had been feeling, the influx of pulsing, was all coming from my heart. I shuttered
slightly and removed my hand, never* *taking* *my eyes* *away* *from the
doctor.*

*“What's wrong with my heart?”*

*He let out a breath, which I took to be a very bad sign. Rare diseases always had that kind
of effect. “It's broken.”*

*“Broken? How is that even possible?”*

*“As I said before, Miss Granger, it's a rare disease that only occurs when a witch or
wizard has experienced such a devastating event in their* *life that* *the magic in their
veins act upon their emotions and split the heart* *in two**. The early symptoms are very
similar to a heart attack, and when caught at the right moment, can be cured. Unfortunately, you
were alone when the splitting began and apparated directly to the hospital, worsening the condition
to a very delicate* *phase**.”*

*“What does that mean?” I asked in a whisper.*

*“That there is very little hope for a recovery. Surgery is out of the question, since your
heart is almost completely split in half. The only way you can hope to live is if the cause of your
heartbreak is resolved. But if that does not happen within the next day, I'm afraid you will
die.”*

*I took in a large intake of breath that only caused my heart to let out a pain of protest. I
felt t**he eyes of both the doctor and H**ealer* *Fowl* *on me as I absorbed
this new information. I didn't want to give them the experience of seeing their patient break
down, so I held back the tears and nodded.*

*“Can you please give me a moment?”*

*The doctor smiled sadly. “Of course.”*

*The annoying healer was right on his tail.*

*Only when I was sure they were out of hearing distance did I release the tears. Crying, as it
turns out, is a pretty powerful way of expressing emotions. Every tear that fell, every gasp of a
sob that wracked my chest, added onto the pain of my heart. It got to a point where I was screaming
in agony, but no one came.* *I closed my eyes and willed the tears to stop, but they
didn't listen. When I opened them, the room around me was spinning in a spiral. Only when I
held my breath did it stop.*

*The hospital room was* *now* *gone, but I still remained in the bed. The atmosphere
around* *me was a blank slate of white so bright i**t made me want to vomit. I held back
the wave of nausea and let out the breath. I was dizzy for a moment, but nothing changed. I was
still in pain, and no longer in St. Mungo's. Crap. I was going to die all alone, in a
godforsaken white blob with only pain and sorrow to ease me into my death. How incredibly morbid
and depressing.*

*After a lifetime of silence, a sound echoed around the planes of white. It was short, but
definitely there. I looked around for the source, but found nothing. I let the hope die down
quicker than it had gone up. I was just going mad, that's all. No biggy.*

*But then* *I heard it again, and again, and again, within two seconds of the first. It
was an echo of something and it was getting closer. So close that I could almost make it out. The
dull* clunk, clunk, clunk, *soon became very familiar. It was footsteps, and they were getting
closer. Soon after realizing that, a dark figure came into view in the distance. I straightened my
posture as best as I could on the bed and narrowed my eyes to get a better look. Whoever it was,
they were sure taking their time getting here. Geese, it wasn't like I was dying or anything,
they could at least jog.*

*Although the entire place I was in was white, the mystery person was still covered in shadows
up until the moment they reached my bed.* *As soon as they were within two inches of me, the
veil on them was broken and drifted off as if smoke of some kind.*

*It was Harry.*

*I opened my mouth to speak, but found myself mute. He smiled down at me and I felt the pain
in my chest pound harder. I flinched and let out a sound of pain. It was then that I realized that
he wasn't there to make it better and* *save me. He was here to kill me.*
*Because* he *was the reason I was here in the first place. He had broken my heart, and now
he wanted to finish the job.*

*I leaned back in the bed as I began to see black cloud my vision. My head tilted to the side,
facing him, as I gave him a hard stare. I found the will to speak, though every word was a punch to
my agony. “Leave me to die.”*

*I looked up into his eyes for what I believed to be the last time. The calm demeanor he had
first arrived with was now gone as a frown replaced his features. His body melted into the ground
and settled into a chair that I hadn't realized was there. He shook his head. “No.”*

*The pain hit a climax and I let out a scream as loud as a banshee's cry. It was so strong
that my voice gave out within a minute. Harry remained seated. I began to shiver and breathe
heavily as I felt the darkness begin to envelop my every being. As I slipped into death, I felt
myself grow cold**. I couldn't feel my fingers or toes, as my senses began to leave me.
And all the while, the pain remained constant. It was pure anguish, but I couldn't do anything
about it. Harry had won. He broke my heart, and now I was an inch from death, just begging it to
take me away from this pain. Life is never that easy.*

*Through the cloud of darkness, I saw Harry's hand twitch into motion and make a trail for
my chest—my heart. I wanted to move, to scream for him not to, but couldn't. Death was so
close, and he was making sure to make it as miserable as possible. I could do nothing but remain
immobile as his hand to**uched my clothed chest and applied* *slight pressure. But
instead of the burning, writhing pain I had been expecting, a rush of warmth spread into my pores
and enveloped my body, starting with my numb limbs as I felt th**e feeling return to my
fingers and toes**. Next to go was the cold as it was melted into a* *pleasant*
*heat, and with it my shivers faded into steady breathing. The last thing to be mended was my
heart. I felt the pain ebb away quicker than I had ever thought possible,* *and I swear I felt
my heart reattach as if being sewn with his touch.*

*And then there was silence. I looked up at him as I breathed for the first time without pain.
He removed his hand from my chest and smiled that Harry smile that made me melt into the
sheets.*

*He leaned down swiftly and bushed the hair away from my face. “All fixed.”*

*I remained speechless. He pressed forward slightly to capture my lips in a kiss. As soon as
they touched mine, I felt him and my surrounding**s* *disappear into nothing.*

I woke up in a bed.

I was still in the same room as when I entered, but the only difference was that I was now lying
atop a twin-sized bed. The book I had been reading was still open next to me, my thumb on the
crease holding my spot. I removed it, not even remembering what I had been reading in the first
place, and leaned up against the backboard. Looks like my intuition had been wrong. The whole time
I had been in the Room of Requirement, all of my problems had been virtually erased, except in my
dreams.

I didn't know what time it was, but since it was the weekend, I didn't really care. I
wasn't even very hungry, which told me it was probably late morning by now. Since I never ate
big breakfasts to begin with, missing one wouldn't hurt me. At least, I hoped not. They did say
that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. But if you weren't hungry to begin with,
did that even apply at all? Ah, the next worldwide unanswerable question.

But no matter what, nothing could take away from the fact that today was the day. Today would
make or break my relationship with Harry. There was no avoiding it, no forgetting. It was going to
happen. And even if I wanted to be with him no matter what, I knew that it wouldn't be right to
be with someone that you couldn't trust to love you. Selfishness would get me nowhere. I had to
take whatever he was going to throw at me with an unbiased mind, no matter how hard it may be. This
was my life I was gambling here. But it was also his. I had no idea what he was feeling right now,
and that scared me. What if he gave up? What if his best efforts weren't enough? I could lose
the one person I have ever loved to the game of life. The stupid, unfair, unjust, prejudiced game
of life. The same one that took away my childhood.

I wanted to win the game. I wanted Harry to win the game for us. I wanted this game to be over
with before I spontaneously combusted. But most of all, I wanted to be happy as I was when Harry
and I were writing with nothing but each other on our minds.

This game sucked.

I tossed my feet off the bed and tried to shake the dream from my mind. Sure, it gave me hope,
but what if the hope turned out to be false? I could very well turn up in one of those beds with a
broken heart. Oh Merlin, what was I thinking. It was just a freaking dream!

*The pain was very real, though.*

*Shut up, you.*

I put the book back from where I had gotten it and exited the room. I didn't turn back as I
made a path to the dormitory. I reached it to see Marie smiling at me, and it really freaked me
out. She didn't say a word, though, which only added to the creepy factor. I said the password
and she let me inside with the same look. I put her odd behavior to the back of my mind, though,
and entered the common room with a blank head. That is, until I saw something very out of place
atop the table nearest to me. As I walked closer, I saw a thin velvet blue case atop a white piece
of paper. I looked around the room for Harry or any other presence and found none. Biting my lip in
confusion, I opened the case and felt my breath leave me in a rush. It was the crystal rose
necklace.

I felt my stomach turn to putty as I turned it around in the light. It still shone with the
beauty of a thousand diamonds. But as I observed it closer, I noticed a slight discoloration on one
of the petals. Brining it closer to my eyes, I saw a silver engraving that read *Forever* in
familiar cursive handwriting. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I unclasped the fastening and
wound it around my neck. Looking down at it once more, I choked out something between a laugh and a
sob. It was amazing work—*Harry's* amazing work. He had taken the time to engrave a single
phrase on my necklace that I had foolishly returned to him, and I couldn't have been more
ecstatic that he did. I fondled it for a moment in thought and then grinned. It was so simple, yet
somehow it had gotten though to me.

He'd won the game.

I let a grin spread across my face and ran up the stairs to his room. I didn't even bother
knocking. The door was unlocked and I pressed it open with a great force.

“Harry?” I called as I looked around the room.

He wasn't there.

Feeling thoroughly confused, I left his room and descended the stairs. Why would he leave when
he knew I would pick up the necklace? I approached the table once more and picked up the case,
looking it over for some sort of clue to where he might be. Nothing. I sighed and began to worry.
It was then that I remembered seeing a white piece of paper underneath the case. I grabbed it and
turned it over to see it was a photograph of us. It was taken at the ball before we had put our
masks on when we were talking at one of the tables and he wanted to apologize for how that morning
had turned out. Whoever had taken this picture had excellent timing, because they had captured the
moment just before the bell had rung to signal the beginning of the ball. We were looking at each
other as if we were the only ones in the room, leaning forward so that we were no more than an inch
apart. I smiled as I remembered how much I wanted him to kiss me, even though I was there to meet
Joe. How careless I had been, falling for the same guy twice.

As I observed the smaller details of the pictures, I saw Harry's neat handwriting in the
bottom-right corner. In black in was the message: *Follow the yellow brick road*. I raised a
bemused eyebrow and looked around for this supposed “yellow brick road,” not expecting to find
much. But to my surprise, an inch from where I was standing was a yellow glittering path that lead
outside the common room. I put the picture down and began to walk atop it. There was only one way
to figure out where it went, and I had a very good feeling that it would show me where Harry was
hiding.

I opened up the portrait and turned back to see Marie with the same smile atop her face. “Go get
him, sweetheart!”

I grinned and turned back to follow the path. The few people who were walking the halls on a
Saturday were looking at me as though I was mad, walking on top of a glittery strip. But I
didn't care. In fact, I began to quicken my pace until I was at a full out sprint. The path
lead outside, but I didn't let the frigid winter weather get a hold of me, even if I was still
in my school uniform. I continued to run along the path and stopped when it lead me to the hill
that sloped to the black lake. My breath was coming out in short puffs that were clearly visible in
the frigid air. They quickened as soon as I saw Harry, clad in his winter dressings, standing with
his back to me next to one of the only trees close to the lake. It didn't take me too long to
sprint the entire way to him through the snow.

“Harry!” I called.

He turned around just in time for me to tackle him to the ground.

“Hermione.” He said with a grin just as wide as mine. It faltered soon after, though, as he
looked me over as best as he could with me on top of him. “Why are you still wearing your school
uniform? It's freezing!”

I kept smiling. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

And he did. He kissed me very tenderly on the lips, only just moving them. I breathed out
through my nose in bliss. He rolled us over so that he was pressing me into the snow and licked the
seam of my lips with his tongue. I accepted him in as I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck,
holding him to me for dear life. I was only vaguely aware of the snow against my nearly bare legs.
But it didn't bother me one bit. All that mattered was me and Harry. His hands found a place
near my head to keep his balance. For a few minutes, all we did was kiss each other, making up for
the lost time that we (and by we, I mostly mean me) threw to the wind.

At one point when Harry and I took a pause for breath, he began to press light kissed to my
cheeks, causing them to heat up to the point that I forgot we were even outside at all. He soon
kissed every visible part of my head and then moved to my neck and ears. He sucked on my right
earlobe only just and I moaned deep in my throat, arching up into him. He smiled and placed a
tender kiss just below my ear and mumbled, “I love you so much.”

“Mmm, I love you, too. I was an idiot not to listen to you the first time you said `I'm
sorry.'”

“Yes, you were.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed, shoving his shoulders so he toppled over to the ground beside me.

He began laughing. “I was just kidding.”

I scrunched up my nose, but soon gave in and began laughing along with him. After we got what I
believed to be all of the laughter within out systems out, we turned towards each other, leaning on
our elbows.

“So did I prove myself?”

I smiled. “Harry you did much more than that. You showed me that I can never ever live without
you.”

“Well, I do try.” I said cheekily.

I chuckled. “How did you pull it all off, anyway?”

He tapped my nose with his gloved hand. “That, my dear, is a secret you will never know.”

I pouted. “Why not?”

“I'll lose my mysterious persona I've worked so hard to achieve, that's why
not.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think you lost that at the ball, Harry.”

“Well then I'd better start back up again. I have to keep you interested somehow.”

I tilted my head, readjusting it atop my palm. “I could never lose interest in you.”

“Cheeky.”

We both laughed and I let the first shiver pass through me from being outside in the cold. Harry
gave me a concerned look and sat up. “Come on,” he said. “We have to get you back inside before you
catch a cold.”

“But—” I protested, sitting up to face him.

“But nothing, I don't want you to get sick because I had the brilliant idea of leading you
down by the lake. Now come on.”

He stood up and offered me a hand. I took it and another shiver passed through me. Seeing this,
Harry shrugged off his coat and placed it around my shoulders. I shrugged my hands through the
sleeves and crossed my arms, letting myself be enveloped by the large coat. He placed a hand behind
my back and led the way back into the castle, where our future together awaited.

-->



21. Finale; Curtain Closed, Take a Bow, The End
-----------------------------------------------

**A/N: We have come to the end of our tale *tear* It is a very long chapter, well over 8,000
words, but that’s what you guys asked for and I’m pretty darn happy with the outcome. My beta had a
busy weekend and couldn’t reread this chapter so all grammar and spelling errors are my own. But I
still want to give a shout out to him since he’s put up with me and my horrid English skills
throughout a good chunk of this story. Thank you, Vincent, you’re the greatest!! For those who are
curious about the soundtrack and score, they will be posted on my website tomorrow. If you need the
link, I’ll post it on my Tumblr tomorrow as well. The poll for my newest story will be open until
next Sunday at 4:00 PM for those who want to get some final votes in.**

**Until the next story, this is Shar signing off. It’s been a real ride and I’ll see you after
a small break!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn’t mine and all that jazz… whatever.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Finale; Curtain Closed, Take a Bow, The End**

The room around me felt different in ways I can’t explain. The drapes were all the same color,
the carpet didn’t have any fresh stains, and Crookshanks hadn’t strayed from his napping spot in
the middle of the sofa. Everything looked normal, but it just didn’t *feel* the same. I sighed
and plopped down on the one corner of the couch that my overweight cat wasn’t taking up with his
lazy, stretched out body. I was careful not to wake him up because the last thing I needed today
was to get all scratched up by my sleep deprived feline. As I settled he only shifted and continued
in his steady breathing, thankfully.

I leant my head back up against the cushiony headrest and let my mind go blank. In less than an
hour, I would be standing in front of the entire seventh-year class, making a speech that I knew I
was incapable of making. Well, technically, I *was* capable, but I didn’t want to. That’s
me—straight-O student, impeccable attendance and behavior record, but completely incapable of
making a simple speech in front of people I’ve known since I was eleven. Or maybe that was the
problem. These people have known me for six-odd years as bookworm Granger, the model student with
the stick up her arse. But I hadn’t worried about what people thought in quite some time, so that
couldn’t be the reason why.

I huffed out a frustrated breath and blew a few strands of hair out of my face. I hated how I
could be so clever when it came to school smarts, but so daft when it came to other things like
public speeches and love.

Ah, love.

I never did grasp how things between Harry and I had developed so quickly, but they had. One
minute, we were walking back to the castle, his coat wrapped around me and his hand about my waist,
and the next, we were, what Harry likes to call “warming up by the fire, Gryffindor style.” It
sounds cliché, but somehow, it worked. Cheeky bastard. But it wasn’t as if I was complaining. Oh, I
was as far from complaining as one could get. The things he does would make anyone with half a mind
blush, so I’ll save the specific, unrated details for a later date. The gist is that I was happy,
genuinely happy, with my life, and it was all because of Harry. He should get some sort of reward
or something for being the best—erm, I guess I should classify him as ‘boyfriend’, but even that
didn’t sum up the way he made me feel. It had been four months since we had declared our budding
relationship public. Boy was Weasley peeved. But he didn’t matter, not one bit. All that was
important was me and Harry and our young romance.

Okay, this is getting too cheesy for my taste. I should stop before I get all girly and start
jabbering on about his eyes or something. Wait… okay, never mind, I’m okay.

Calmness finally began to seep through my tense form and I let my muscles relax into the
cushions. I just needed to remain relaxed for a while, and then worry about my speech and other
impending factors of my future later. It was all part of the plan. And if it failed, well, we
weren’t going to think about that right now. As of this moment, all was calm, all was peaceful, and
the only thing that mattered was the silence and—

“Good morning, sunshine!”

“Holy crap!”

My eyes shot open and I nearly landed on Crookshanks. Thankfully, my hand shot out an inch from
his front paw and I balanced myself, barely. I twisted my head upwards to see Harry’s too-happy
face grinning down at me. I narrowed my eyes and straightened out, turning my focus to the
fireplace and trying my best not to smile. You see, I’ve learned some things while growing closer
to Harry, one of them being to never give him the satisfaction of victory over my pet peeves. Being
interrupted while meditating, or whatever it was I had been doing, never ceased to irritate me. But
not when Harry did it—*never* when Harry did it. It was both frustrating and baffling to me
how he pulled that off. I’d bite my own mother’s head off if she snuck up on me!

I heard him circle around the couch and bit my lip. Crap. I turned around to face him, despite
my lack of better judgment. But as I did, he did something that only he could pull off without
being murdered. He picked up Crookshanks and set him on his lap. The sleeping cat never once
stirred or batted an eyelash; he just curled into Harry’s arms and began purring. I scoffed. He
only ever did that for Harry. I’ve given that cat four years of my life and he still loved Harry
more than me. It was sickening, really.

“Traitor.” I mumbled.

Harry grinned and hugged Crookshanks to his chest briefly. “It’s not my fault he loves me
more.”

“He doesn’t love *you*; he loves your body heat.” I countered, trying to come up with some
excuse to fill the aching void Crookshanks had just ripped open. Just kidding. Kind of.

He raised a dark eyebrow and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “The heat is a part of me,
darling, therefore, he loves me.”

I scrunched up my nose in distaste. “Don’t call me darling.”

He smiled goofily. “Or else what?”

“You know what.”

He frowned and began petting Crookshanks absently. “You don’t scare me.”

I smirked. “Don’t tempt me.”

He gave me and odd look but didn’t say anything more. There was a short silence before he felt
the need to talk again. “Crookshanks still loves me more.”

“Yeah, because you feed him scraps when you come back from the kitchens.”

He looked at me, aghast. “I do not!”

I shot him a warning look. “I see everything, Harry; don’t humor me with your lies.”

He stuck out his tongue, then looked back down to the sleeping cat in his arms. “Works like a
charm, though, doesn’t it?”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s easy, what can I say.”

He nodded and scratched the patch of fur behind Crookshanks’ ear that he always loved to have
attended to. I looked at the two of them fondly. No matter how much I resented their “bond” it was
still nice to see the two of them together like that. Besides, it could be much worse. Crookshanks
could go into full-out protection mode and attack Harry within an inch of his life whenever he got
near me. That wouldn’t work at all. I think I preferred this way, no matter how much it pained me
to admit it.

“So are you ready for your speech today?”

I sighed. “I was trying not to think about it when you came in, actually.”

He chuckled. “It would have backfired eventually, Hermione. I think we both know that you can’t
keep something like that out of your mind for too long.”

I let my body go limp on the couch. “Don’t remind me.”

“Too late.”

I looked over at him with a distasteful frown. “Smartass.”

He grinned. “You love it.”

“For some odd reason.”

He leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the lips. Crookshanks mewed in protest but otherwise
did nothing. The lazy bum. When he pulled back, I had a small smile on my face. I couldn’t help it,
okay! You remember what I said about what he did to me. I gave him a small peck in return and he
smiled against my lips, deepening the kiss with Crookshanks still in his arms. I don’t know how he
pulled it off without getting some sort of reaction out of him, but there are some questions that
cannot be answered in this lifetime.

Only when Harry moved closer to me on the couch and began to close the distance between us did I
feel Crookshanks get up with a distasteful grunt and strut over to find another place to nap. I
pulled back from the kiss and mumbled, “I don’t think he loves you anymore.”

Harry looked over to where Crookshanks was heading and shrugged. “He’ll get over it.”

I snorted as he captured my lips once again in a fiercer kiss than the first, a fact I didn’t
mind in the least. Thank you, Crookshanks, for being a brat and allowing my boyfriend to kiss me
properly. Without his presence, Harry now had the ability to scoot closer and wrap his arms around
me, which he took full advantage of. His body was red hot against mine, and I reveled in the
feeling.

He loosened his grip on my waist by only a fraction as he leaned the pair of us down into a
more, erm, comfortable position, to continue our little escapade. My legs opened a tiny bit to
allow one of Harry’s to snuggle in-between them. We adjusted rather quickly and continued out kiss
with vigor. After so many times of doing this, you get the hang of it pretty much off the bat. And
we’ve done this many, *many* times. But he never bored me. Sure, his techniques were pretty
familiar by now, but that didn’t mean that I was able to predict his every move or something
equally as ridiculous. Only someone with a really sad relationship would be able to do that. Even
if they had the ability, any sane person wouldn’t either because they were too distracted or was
too afraid to open that can of worms. As for me, Harry always found new ways to distract me. Take
now, for instance. His lips made a trail to my neck and I let out a small moan of appreciation,
leaning into him. Nipping affectionately at the skin, he began to trail one of his hands down past
my stomach until he reached the hem of the dress I was wearing under my robes. He elevated the
fabric slightly as he caressed the skin of my upper thigh. I let out a breathy response and knew
that it was all the ammunition he needed to continue. His hand trailed higher up until he reached
my panty line. He played with the cotton material only for a moment before moving it aside and
caressing my center as if it was his job.

And by Merlin was he getting high marks from the boss.

I lifted a hand from where it had been wound around his shoulder blades to play with the silky
mess that was his hair. No matter how untamed and wild it looked, it was still heaven to feel
between my fingers. I clutched it even tighter as he plunged one finger into my folds and caused me
to buck with my now overwhelming need. He removed his lips from my neck the moment I did so and
reattached our lips; probably for fear that I would tear his hair out if he kept it up. And he was
right. My grip loosened as our tongues danced with each other in a familiar tango. It seemed that
with every motion of his skilled now three fingers, his tongue would dive deeper into my mouth to
seemingly attack mine in a battle of which he was rightly winning. I mean, how could he not? I was
too busy moaning and groaning from the effects of his fingers moving around inside of me.

“Oh, *Harry*.” I whispered fervently when we broke apart for air.

He only smiled at me and kissed me once more, determined to finish what he had started. It
wasn’t long before my hips began to buck on their own accord as I felt the wave of nirvana hit and
envelope my senses with one clean wash. I let out one last long moan and collapsed onto the couch,
slacking against the couch in bliss. It was a second or two over a minute when I opened my eyes and
awoke from the sensations that were still slightly pulsing throughout my veins. I was completely
out of breath and Harry seemed to be a little bit run out as well, but not as much as I,
obviously.

I scooted back against the armrest of the sofa so that my back was completely straightened out.
Harry simply crossed his legs Indian style and looked at me with one of his signature smiles. I
gave myself a few more seconds to catch my breath before speaking, but my voice still came out
breathy.

“What was that for?”

“Do I have to have a reason to pleasure my girlfriend now?”

I cocked an eyebrow.

He sighed. “It was a distraction.”

My brow furrowed. “A distraction from what?”

He smirked. “Exactly.”

I grabbed one of the pillows from behind me and threw it at his head. He caught it inches before
it made the collision with his stupid seeker reflexes and I pouted. “Answer me.”

“If I do that, the distraction will be void.” He explained smoothly.

“I think the distraction’s time is up, Harry.”

He bit his lip, a sign that told me he knew I was right. He shifted his gaze to a pile of papers
that were stacked on the nearby coffee table and then back to me. I stiffened and he nodded.
“Pretty ingenious, isn’t it?”

“Harry, you can’t just do something like… *that* every time I have to make a speech.” I
said in resentment, wishing full well that he could.

He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “It seemed to work just fine this time around.”

I stuck my tongue out in response. Glancing back at the papers, though, my playful demeanor was
wiped away by cold, hard fear. I glanced at the clock and groaned. The ceremony was to begin in
twenty minutes and all I had to show for my preparations were a stack of papers that were filled
with a bunch of rubbish about the “good ‘ol times at Hogwarts.” Hogwarts for me was an escape, yes.
But unlike former Head Girls, I couldn’t talk about the friends I had made or the many memories I
had. The only friend I had here was Harry and a portrait, which was sad enough in itself. I
couldn’t ramble on for five minutes about them and leave it at that. For one, people would think I
was crazy, and frankly, so would I. And other than that, it would completely take away from the
validity of the speech. Speeches were supposed to reflect not only the perspective of the speaker,
but of the other students listening, and since I’m pretty sure I have absolutely nothing in common
with any of the poor crowd who are going to be forced to listen to my speech, I was doomed.

“Why can’t the Head Boy make the speech instead?” I moaned.

“Because it would be too damn easy,” He answered. “Besides, you girls are way better at this
kind of stuff anyway.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh yes, of course. Can’t you see how excided and confident I am that this is
going to be the best graduation speech ever?”

“Hey.” He said in a soft voice. I twisted my neck to see him beckoning towards me with open
arms. I sighed and scooted over into his embrace, leaning against his shoulder, my back pressed
against his chest and my body seemingly clicking into his like a piece of a puzzle. Corny analogy,
I know, but it’s all I’ve got.

“You are going to be great today.” He said evenly.

“How do you know?” I said in a voice just above a whisper.

He hugged me tighter against his chest and I felt his heart beat against my skin. It was a
tender moment, and one that boosted my confidence significantly. “I know you, Hermione. You have
never given up on anything because you were too afraid—well, except me, but I think you learned
your lesson from that.” I let out a breath of laughter. “The point is that you not only have the
ability to knock this out of the park, but you could do it with your hands tied behind your back,
blindfolded, and with ten thousand mosquitoes nipping at your arm. I bet you don’t even need those
papers over there. In fact…”

One of his arms suddenly left its hold on me and waved in the direction of my speech papers. My
heart leapt in my throat and I spoke with a croak. “What are you doing?”

“Proving a point,” He replied evenly.

And with that said, he flicked his wrist up and the papers lifted into the air as if being
*Wingardium Leviosa*’d. I sat up in protest, but the arm remaining around my shoulders kept me
close to him. I let out a squeak as he turned his wrist to the side and I watched in horror as my
speech was thrown into the fire. The parchment burned close to instantly when it made contact with
the flames. I began to struggle against him, trying to save them, but I knew it was too late. His
raised arm fell back to hugging me and I tried to break free, but his grip was too strong.

“Why did you do that, Harry?!” I yelled. “Have you gone insane or something?!”

“I’m afraid not.” He replied.

“Then what, pray tell, influenced you to *burn* my speech?” I asked hotly. “Because I know
that you love me and would never ever do something like that unless you were provoked to do
so!”

“Aw, I do love you, ‘Mione.” He said sweetly, kissing the top of my head. I grimaced. “I did it
for your own good. I think we both know that you don’t need those papers to make a great speech
that will conclude to thunderous applause.”

“I don’t know what kind of potion fumes *you’ve* been inhaling recently, but I certainly do
not think that I can make a speech in front of our entire class without something in front of me to
go on. It’s hopeless now.” I hung my head low to accentuate the distress he had caused.

He moved his hand to cradle my chin and turn my face up to look him in the eyes. They met mine
and I had to struggle not to get lost in them and pay attention to what he had to say. “It’s not
hopeless. Whatever was written on those rolls of parchment isn’t important. They were just words
recorded in ink. What’s really important is what’s in here.” He moved his hand to rest on my
chest.

I looked down at his hand and then back at him. “You mean my heart?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s on the other side, Harry.”

“Oh. Oops.” He said, quickly moving his hand to rest over my beating, blood-pumping organ that
was *pit-patt*ing heavier than usual with his recent stunt still ever-present in my mind.

I giggled and covered his hand with my own, squeezing it tightly. “You really think I’m capable
of speaking in front of a hundred or so teenagers with only my heart to guide me.”

“Yes, I do. And you should, too.”

I let out a heavy breath as our hands move to my lap, where our fingers knotted out of pure
reflex. I snuggled more firmly into him and inhaled the musky scent of his cologne. It was soothing
to me, being with him like this. It made it easier to believe what he said and forget everything
except the two of us. We both knew that after today, we would never be returning to this common
room ever again. I looked over Harry’s shoulder to where our luggage was lying, all in a neat pile
near the staircase. I had helped Harry pack the night before, gathering all of his scattered
belongings into his large trunk. Hedwig’s cage was empty, as we chose to get her after the ceremony
to save her the distress of being locked up.

“She hates it.” He had said when I suggested we put her in the cage last night.

But other than that, we were all set. All that was left was to have Dumbledore and McGonagall
hand us our diplomas and we would be Hogwarts graduates, free to roam the Wizarding world and begin
our new lives as educated citizens. I already had several interviews set up at the Ministry and St.
Mungo’s, knowing full well that I could have any job I wished with my N.E.W.T scores. Straight O’s
in every subject, thanks to Harry. I was sure I would get an E in Defense Against the Dark Arts if
it wasn’t for him tutoring me. And then some.

The fact still remained that we were going to head our separate ways, if only for a few weeks. I
would love more than anything to move in with Harry or vice versa. But I would be staying with my
parents until I found a job with a steady enough income that I could purchase a flat. Harry told me
he would be moving into his late Godfather’s house in Gimmauld Place, a large residence located in
northwestern London. He also said that after we arrived back from the train ride, he would go
straight to redecorating the place, since it reminded him too much of darkness and how things could
have been if he hadn’t defeated Voldermort. He had even invited me to help paint and pick out
furniture, something I was very much looking forward to. But I still wish that I could live with
him. Even though we’ve only been dating a handful of months, I still feel that we, meaning mostly
I, was ready to take that next step. Alas, it was not meant to be.

I was shaken out of my thoughts when Harry began to stir me by shaking his shoulders in a signal
for me to get up. I lifted my head from where it had been in the crook of his neck and looked at
him curiously. He motioned to the clock. “Time to go.”

My stomach felt like it had just erupted into tiny butterflies, and not the good kind. Harry saw
my change in behavior and gave me a small smile, helping me up. I straightened up my black ceremony
robes and reached in one of the inside pockets for my pointed hat. I thought it silly to wear
attire like this to the ceremony, but I had to abide by the rules like everyone else. Placing the
hat atop my head, I faced Harry and saw that he had done the same thing as I. Although I had to
admit, he did look pretty adorable in his hat, which looked to be a tad too small to contain his
mop of hair. I giggled and tried to straighten it with no avail.

“It’s a lost cause.” He said with a frown.

“Someday.” I assured him. “Someday a witch or wizard is going to invent a potion designed to
tame your hair, I guarantee it.”

“Promise?”

“No, but we can only hope.”

He let out a huff of laughter and held out his hand for me to take. I did and he led us out of
the portrait hole. He continued on, but I stopped, turning around to see Marie looking at us with a
forlorn face.

“I’m going to miss you, Marie.” I said softly.

“I’ll miss you, too, poppet.” She said shakily, seemingly fighting tears. I was unable to tell
because of the paint job. “Even you, Harry.”

Harry chuckled beside me. “Thanks for not giving me away within the first week, Marie.”

She nodded, “Not a problem. I knew how it was going to end, anyhow.”

“Of course you did.” Harry said with amusement.

“What do you mean ‘giving me away’?” I asked Harry.

He looked between me and Marie a few times before answering. “Well, I had to sneak out of the
common room to get my letters to Hedwig some days. Marie here wasn’t too pleased with that and
threatened to report me. I assured her it was for good reason, and as soon as she saw you doing the
same thing, she vowed to keep her mouth shut. She’s actually part of the reason I found out you
were Anonymous.”

I raised both eyebrows high in surprise and looked at Marie. “You told him that I was sneaking
out?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know it had any relevance until he informed me.”

I sighed. “Well, in any regard, we’ll both miss you, Marie.”

A small smile faded onto her features. “You’ve been a pleasure to guard, I assure you. I’ll be
sure to tell your tale to future Heads, just to forewarn them, yes?”

I snorted and I heard Harry choke out a laugh beside me. “Sure.” I said. “Anything to protect
them.”

She nodded and elegantly waved at the two of us. Well, it wasn’t an actual wave rather than a
simple movement of the wrist—the kind of motion you saw royalty perform when greeting a crowd. It
was all bittersweet. It was highly unlikely I would meet anyone else like her outside of
Hogwarts.

“Goodbye, Marie.” I said softly, feeling sadness well up in my chest and behind my eyes.

“Farewell, darlings.” She said, a hint of the same emotion showing through her voice.

And with one last fleeting glace, Harry and I continued, hand-in-hand, to the great hall. He
gave me a reassuring squeeze as we arrived just outside the double doors. I took a deep breath as I
heard the blur of hundreds of voices; students, teachers, *and* parents. I had almost
forgotten I had to account for them as well. Awesome.

My feet remained rooted to the ground as Harry pulled my hand towards the hall. He turned
towards me with a look that made me shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Rolling his
eyes, he closed the distance between us and enveloped me in a tender hug. My body relaxed once
more, as it always did when in his arms. Harry had picked up on a few of my kinks, for lack of a
better word, as well, one of them being that whenever our bodies were close, all of my muscles went
limp. It was probably the only way he could get me to enter the great hall and we both knew it. He
pulled away a fraction and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips, cheek, and forehead. That worked,
too. Merlin, I was such a sap. With a small smile he led us into the room with me following
reluctantly.

Most of the students were already seated, with a few meeting and greeting siblings and parents
alike. They were all dressed in black robes identical to mine and Harry’s with some form of formal
clothing underneath. It also pleased me to see that others had also put their hats on and were
having trouble keeping it on. Harry gave me a look when he saw that, but I chose to ignore it,
focusing on the podium in the front of the room. It was the same one that Dumbledore used during
feasts, animated owl and all. I bit my lip and felt Harry tug on my hand once more. I followed
behind him as we moved up to the stage area where our seats were located next to the professors.
What I wouldn’t give to be intermingled with my classmates right now, no matter how they treated me
in the past.

A loud clapping sound came from Dumbledore’s place on the stage and brought me back to reality.
The people who were standing in the hall all moved to their seats and I unwillingly did so as well.
Harry let go of my hand and I felt incomplete without it tangled with mine. But I knew it wouldn’t
help me much now that we were here. Without it, though, what felt like a ton of bricks had come to
settle in the lower pits of my stomach and I gulped. This was it—almost. Dumbledore had some stuff
to say first, of course, but then I was up. No speech prepared, thanks to Harry, and all eyes on
me. When did I sign up for this? Oh, right, when I was eleven and found out that there was a
Hogwarts and a Head Girl position reserved for the top female student in her year. Sometimes I
hated how goal-oriented I was. I never gave up, and it sucked.

Dumbledore glided (and I don’t use the term lightly) to the podium and waited for the hall to
become silent. It did within seconds. Dumbledore was a pretty intimidating person, even if you had
no idea how powerful he was. I can’t imagine what he would be like if anyone was on his bad side,
but that was a thought to be saved for a different time. Right now, I had to focus on him.

Although I couldn’t see it, I knew he was smiling when he talked. “Welcome students, guardians,
and siblings alike on this glorious afternoon to celebrate the achievements of this year’s
graduating class!”

There was thunderous applause from the audience and I clapped my hands in time with them. It was
only polite, even if I did feel as if I was going to puke.

“I have known most of you since you arrived here at Hogwarts, and some longer than that. It has
been a whirlwind of experiences getting to know and care for you as if you were children of my own.
You have been through a great deal of experiences—plenty, I may add, to make for thrilling stories
for your own children, whom I hope very much to see in the future, even though that may not occur
for some time. In the near future, however, you will ride the train back to Platform 9 ¾ for the
very last time and begin your journey into the Wizarding World as educated adults.”

*Hmm, where have I heard that before?* I thought jokingly to myself.

“I, as well as the professor’s, hope that the teachings we have provided you with will help
guide you toward ideal and successful careers. Who knows, we may have a future Bathilda Bagshot,
Myron Wagtail, even Rowena Ravenclaw or Godric Gryffindor. No matter where you choose to steer your
life, you will always and forever more be a Hogwarts graduate. From the time you were first years,
you have studied the ways of our kind to prepare for the world outside these walls, which some of
you are familiar with, and others not. Despite the dark times we have been faced with in the past,
you should always know that there is a light among the cloud of night. I am fully confident that
you will be able to face anything thrown your way in the coming years. And though this castle has
become a home for some of you, and a place of imprisonment for others, it will always be a part of
your past, and I am proud to call myself your Headmaster. Good luck to you all in your lives and I
hope to have a few visitors come by once in a while.”

There was a small pause before the hall erupted into applause. I could even see a few teary eyes
among the otherwise grinning faces. It was a moving speech, and I couldn’t help but feel
intimidated. I mean, who could compare to freaking Dumbledore? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

The clapping continued for a few more seconds before dying down at Dumbledore’s raised hand. I
sucked in a short amount of air and felt my heartbeat accelerate to a dangerous pace. Harry must
have sensed my jumpiness, for he placed a hand on my thigh. The warmth of his touch radiated
through me and I smiled at him in thanks. He returned it with a nod and turned back to Dumbledore,
not removing his hand, which I thoroughly appreciated.

“And now, I will turn the speaking over to your Head Girl. Someone I have gotten to know very
well in her years here. She is the brightest and most warm-hearted girl—*woman* that I have
come to know in quite some time. Ladies and gentlemen, please help me welcome Miss Hermione
Granger!”

The applause wasn’t deafening, but it was still quite loud. I stood up and felt Harry’s hand
slide off my thigh, the comfort he had been giving me vanishing. I walked shakily up to Dumbledore,
who was holding a hand out for me to shake. I took it and was surprised at how firm the
Headmaster’s grip was, despite his age, whatever triple-digit that was. He gave me a warm smile
with that signature twinkle in his eye and I felt a small wash of confidence come over me
unexpectedly. From the way Dumbledore was looking at me, I could tell that he had faith that I
could knock this speech out of the park. Don’t ask me how I got that impression, I just
*knew*. It was enough for me to let go of his hand and twirl to the podium, facing my
graduating class and their guests with a cheerful grin. Wow, that was unexpected.

I looked back over at Professor Dumbledore, who was looking at me knowingly. “Thank you,
Professor Dumbledore, for that lovely introduction.” He nodded and took his seat by the other
professors. I turned back to the faces watching me and felt a lump rise in my throat. This was it,
the moment of truth. I had to come up with a speech in two seconds or else be publically humiliated
in front of my entire class and their friends and family. Isn’t life just bloody fantastic? I was
doomed.

But then I remembered what Harry told me and the confidence he had that I could pull an entire
speech out of my pocket without second thought. If Harry thought that I could do it, who was to say
that everyone else wasn’t thinking the exact same thing. Every student—and I don’t say that for
emphasis, I really do mean everyone—in the school had been putting me on a pedestal, either to
ridicule me or hold me as the one that knew everything.

Oh Merlin, that was it.

I opened my mouth and the words rolled off my tongue as if I had been planning this from the day
I was born. “I had a whole speech prepared, but it ended up in the fireplace earlier today thanks
to my roommate.” There were a few chuckles from the audience and I knew that I was doing something
right. I pressed on. “But I don’t need it anymore.

Ever since I found out that I was a witch I had told myself repeatedly that I would be the best.
I would prove to everyone that I could be number one in everything, despite where I came from. Call
me a revolutionist or whatever, but it was motivation that stuck. I’ve never received lower than
Outstanding marks on my assignments and exams. It was the most important thing to me. So important,
that I never really made time for friends or parties or anything else deemed ‘normal’ by schooling
standards. I didn’t have the best of both worlds, but that didn’t matter as long as I stuck to the
promise I had made to myself. But then, throughout the years, I realized I was wrong. You really do
need friends. Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to make many, seeing as how everyone had
already made up their minds about me by the third month of being here. I was the bookworm,
know-it-all, perfect student, and apparently that also meant that I didn’t need friends. Sure, I
had high marks, but that didn’t change the fact that I was missing something dire.”

I paused for a moment to take a deep breath.

“I was teased and bullied, yes, but that never really bothered me. I’ve never cared what anyone
else thought. But then I met someone last summer that changed that and sent everything I had ever
known into a whirlwind. After talking to him I realized what I had been missing all along. Sure,
high marks and spotless records are one thing, but I don’t think it means much if you don’t have
someone by your side to keep you from getting a big head. School is a place for learning, but also
a place to form friendships that can last a lifetime. And that, I’ve come to realize, is the most
important thing. The darkness that we have been faced with recently was scary, horrifying even, but
it also made us that much stronger. Our bonds with the people around us held us together because we
had the one thing that the self-proclaimed Dark Lord did not—we had love. We found love, and
friendship, and bravery *here* within Hogwarts’ walls. It doesn’t matter if you’re the top of
your class or hold the highest record for most detentions received in one week, the thing that
sticks with you longest is the bonds between you and your peers.

“Hogwarts has provided us with more than we ever thought possible. It has prepared us in every
way with the skills we need to head out into the world. With friends by your side, you’ll never
walk alone, and with the knowledge on how to cast a flawless shielding spell you’ll never be
unprepared. So thank you professors, for teaching us all these years, no matter how many people
have fallen asleep in your class. But most of all, thank yourselves and the people beside you for
making our well-rounded education that much more complete.”

I ended the speech by looking behind me at Harry, who had the ‘I told you so’ look on his face.
I was going to thank him, but the sound of roaring applause prevented me from doing so. I turned
back to the audience to see each and every person in the room, minus a few Slytherins, on their
feet and banging their hands together. A wide grin spread across my face as I felt the heat rise to
my cheeks. I tried to thank them, but it was drowned out.

Holy shit, I did it.

I felt Dumbledore come up beside me and place a hand on my shoulder. I looked up into the
elderly man’s eyes to see him wink at me. I smiled in return and took my place by Harry once more.
He was grinning from ear to ear and I mouthed “Thank you” to him as well, because I knew he
deserved it more than anyone else. He nodded and took my hand in his, bringing it to his lips and
kissing it tenderly. The clapping quieted a few moments later and I returned to looking at
Dumbledore.

He looked back at me briefly. “Thank you, Miss Granger, for that truly inspiring closing
speech.” I blushed. He turned back to address the crowd. “And now it is time for Professor
McGonagall and I to hand out the diplomas. Please step up to accept it when you hear your name
called. Hannah Abbott.”

And so Dumbledore alphabetically recited the names. When he arrived at my name, I walked the few
feet between us and shook his hand once more. He congratulated me and passed me over to Professor
McGonagall, who handed me a rolled up parchment tied with a scarlet and gold ribbon. Entangled in
the colors was a golden crest of the Gryffindor griffin. She offered me similar congratulations and
kind words and I thanked her graciously. I joined my fellow classmates along the wall and watched
as the rest of the students were called up and handed their diplomas. When Harry’s name was called,
I watched proudly as he strutted along the line of professors. What a hot dog.

As Blaise Zabini’s name was called and he joined us, Dumbledore returned to the podium and
spoke. “Please help me in welcoming Hogwarts’ graduating class of the year 1998!”

The applause was loud, but it was all a blur as I joined the students around me in tossing our
hats up in the hair and cheering for ourselves. Some were cheering for freedom, others for pure
excitement. After venting all of that emotion out, however, I made a beeline for Harry. He probably
sensed my approach or something, because when I reached him, he was grinning and holding his arms
out. I laughed and ran into them. He twirled me around in circles and placed me on the ground,
kissing me passionately on the lips. We stood like that for what seemed like eternity before I felt
a tapping on my shoulder that brought me back.

I pulled back from Harry, who seemed confused as to why I stopped. We both turned to face
whoever interrupted us and I froze.

“Oh. Hi, Daddy.” He smiled oddly and I disentangled myself from Harry. “This is Harry, the one I
told you about.”

“Ah yes, the infamous Harry Potter.” He said with a nod.

Harry held out his hand, “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

My father took it, thankfully, with a curt nod. “You too, son. I trust you’ve been taking good
care of my little girl.”

“Of course.”

“Well from—”

“Edward, you aren’t interrogating poor Harry, are you?”

My mother stepped up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, saving Harry from an early
death. He put on a smile and nodded. “Of course not, dear.”

“Mhmm… It’s nice to meet you Harry. Hermione has told us so much about you in her letters.”

“Good things, I hope.” Harry said, looking at me.

“You’ll never know.” I replied teasingly.

He rolled his eyes and placed an arm around my waist, hugging me to him. I looked at my parent’s
reaction to the public display of affection, since I knew they weren’t used to seeing me with a
guy. My mum seemed fine with it, but my dad had a slightly red tint to his face. I knew he wouldn’t
say anything, though. That’s just the way he is.

“If you’ll excuse us, Hermione dear, your father and I are going to find the restroom.”

I nodded and watched them retreat.

“They seem nice.” Harry said.

I sighed. “They just need to get used to you—and by they, I mean my father.”

“I don’t blame him for being protective. You *are* his little girl, right?”

“Unfortunately. And because I’m an only child, it’s only going to get worse.”

“Oh I doubt that.”

“You don’t know my dad.” I said sternly.

“That I don’t.” He admitted. There was a small pause before Harry turned me around so that we
were face-to-face. “But I do have something I need to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“Well I’ve been doing some thinking lately, and I’ve come to the conclusion that—”

“Hermione!”

I turned around to the source of the voice. “Oh my god, *Sue*!”

She sprinted the distance between us and enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug. I held tight to
her for a few more seconds before she let me go, grinning like a madwoman.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” I said breathlessly, tucking a strand of hair behind my
ear.

“Neither did I until my husband surprised me with the news. We were supposed to go to his
parent’s house, but I was moaning about missing your graduation so much that he excused me from the
hellhole.” She said excitedly. What was it about married adults not liking their in-laws? A
worldwide unanswerable question, surely.

“That’s great, I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me too, I—Hermione, why is Harry Potter staring at us as if we’re two carnies?”

I turned around to see Harry giving the pair of us that exact look and snorted. “He does
that.”

“But I thought you—”

“Oh! I forgot to introduce you. Sue, meet Joe.”

“Joe? I thought his name was Ha—oh. *Oh!* Wow, that’s just… wow.” She brushed past me
breezily and hugged him much like she did me, but maybe even tighter, if that was possible. “It’s
so nice to finally meet the mystery man.”

She let him go and he looked as though he had all of the breath sucked out of him. Ah, Sue hugs,
gotta love ‘em. “So you’re the infamous Sue.”

She curtsied nonchalantly, something only she could pull off. “That’s me. I have so much to ask
the two of you. Like how—oh.”

“What?” I asked, watching as she went rigid.

She reached down into her pocket and pulled out what looked to be a Muggle beeper. But since I
knew that Muggle electronics didn’t work inside Hogwarts, I assumed it was enchanted.

“My husband’s calling, can you excuse me?”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.” I said as she brushed by a few people to find a floo.

I turned back to Harry. “She’s a bit enthusiastic sometimes.”

“Right.”

There was a silence between that two of us. I was about to explain to Harry how Sue knew who Joe
was to begin with, as he was obviously confused, but then I remembered that he had been about to
ask me something.

“So you wanted to ask me something, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” He said, as if being shaken from his thoughts. He got a bit closer and fiddled
around for a moment, something he only did when he had something important to say. “I’ve been
thinking about us lately, and what we’re going to do after all of this.” He gestured around the
great hall. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that I pretty much can’t be without you.”

“Oh Harry, we already talked about—”

“Wait, let me finish.” He interrupted. I shut my big mouth and he continued. “I was thinking of
ways that we could be together more often and then I remembered you told me that you were going to
be staying with your parents for a while after Hogwarts.”

I nodded, not really knowing where he was going.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black leather box. My breath caught in my
throat as I got a closer look. It was too thin to be a ring box, so that was out of the question. I
told him never to buy me expensive jewelry, save for birthdays, anniversaries, and gift-giving
holidays, and even then I set a limit on how much he was allowed to spend. Hopefully I wouldn’t
have to turn away a beautiful bracelet or something like a few months ago when he bought me a
one-week anniversary present. Since I didn’t believe in such celebrations—I thought they were
horribly cheesy and unnecessary—I had to give it back. It kind of sucked, a lot. Gods, I hope he
wouldn’t make me do that again.

“So I came up with a way that we never had to be apart.”

He handed me the box and I just stared at him. “Harry, I don’t know if—”

“Open it.”

I saw how seriously he was acting and complied. Opening the box with a click, I saw a shiny
bronze skeleton key nestled in white silk that looked to be recently restored. I looked from it to
Harry and he smiled.

“It’s an old key to Grimmauld Place, back when it used to be owned by Muggles.”

“Oh *Harry*.” I said, closing the distance between us and kissing him chastely. I pulled
back quickly and gave him a sad look. “What about my parents? They would never—”

“No worries, I already owled them a few days ago.”

He looked over my shoulder and shot someone a wide grin and a thumbs-up. I twisted to see who he
was motioning to and saw my mum and dad standing nearby, waving with broad grins to match Harry’s
on their faces. I turned back to him. “You did all of this without telling me?”

“Are you complaining?”

“Well, no…”

“So what do you say?”

“I’m going to have to think about it, Harry.” I said seriously. His shoulders sunk and he looked
to be fighting the disappointment from showing on his face. He never made things fun for me, did
he?

“I was kidding, Harry.” I said. “Of course I’ll move in with you!”

He grinned and picked me up once more, kissing me in front of the entire great hall. I could
fell all of the eyes on us, but didn’t care.

“Hey you guys I’m sorry about—” We stopped kissing when we heard Sue’s voice, but she cut
herself off with a smile before saying anything more. “Never mind, you two just keep doing what
you’re doing.”

“Thank you, Sue.” Harry said, capturing my lips once more.

I pulled back. “Harry, you can’t just blow off Sue to kiss me!”

“But she said it was okay!” He protested.

I scoffed. “It’s very rude.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is this what it’s going to be like every time we have her over for
tea?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fantastic.”

“Is that sarcasm? Because I’ll have you know that—” He cut me off with a kiss. I gave in only
for a few moments before realizing what he was doing. I abruptly pulled away and gave him a hard
stare.

“Are you going to kiss me every time you want me to shut up?”

“But of course. Do you have a problem with that?”

I bit my lip, knowing I couldn’t hide the truth from him, no matter how much I wanted to. “I
think you know the answer to that question already.”

He grinned and leaned in once more.

“Hey!” I said against his lips, pushing him back. “I didn’t say that it was okay!”

He shrugged. “It’s not my fault that I misinterpreted your feelings. I guess I’ll just have to
find some other way to get what I want.”

He pinched my butt.

“Harry James Potter!”

“Yes?” He drawled.

I sighed. “You’re incorrigible.”

He only laughed.

I tugged on his arm. “Now come on and apologize to Sue for acting like a pig.”

“I most certainly *will not*!”

“Oh yes you will.” I said, dragging him across the hall where Sue was talking with my mum.

“No I won’t.”

I huffed and skidded to a halt, spinning around to kiss him hotly—tongue-plunging, face-sucking,
pure sex, poured into a single kiss. I pulled back with a *smack* and wiped my mouth, looking
at his still half-closed eyes. He opened them slowly, as if coming from a dream and I smiled
smugly.

“O-okay. I guess I can apologize or something.”

“Good.”

I grabbed his hand once more and he followed behind like a lost puppy. Oh yes, I could get used
to this.

*End.*