A/N: Here you go, the next chap!
Chapter 6 - An (Un)Fortunate Occurrence
A few days after the incident and subsequent apology Harry was sitting in his seat in potions right next to Hermione, who still hadn't talked to him or even acknowledged his apology. Harry wasn't even completely sure she had heard it.
Professor Snape sneered at Harry's mediocre potion as he walked past. He also sneered at Hermione's perfect, finished potion. The greasy-haired professor truly hated both of them. Harry because he was James's son and Hermione because she was a know-it-all who always won the house cup for Gryffindor.
For some reason, he smirked at Harry with an evil glint in his eye before he turned around and walked to the front of the classroom. He had the class bring up their potions and waited until they had all sat back down before addressing them.
"Now, for your N.E.W.T. project," Snape began and most of the class groaned (Hermione perked up). "It will be in pairs," friends caught each other's eyes and smirked, "that I will choose." More groaning. "You will be making Polyjuice Potion and writing a report that includes the properties of every ingredient and why each ingredient is used in making the potion."
He looked up at Hermione and shot her a nasty grin. "The first pair…is Potter and Granger."
Harry face lit up as he looked at Hermione, who had her eyes shut and was taking deep breaths through her nose. Harry was thankful that Snape seemed to dislike Hermione even more than himself.
"Looks like we'll be together, eh?" said Harry cheekily, nudging Hermione's shoulder with his elbow. She shot him her 'go die in a hole' glare. "Don't be like that, Granger. This is going to be great!"
Hermione didn't say anything and Snape finished pairing the students off just as the bell signaling the end of class rang. Harry grabbed his stuff and walked out of the class next to Ron, who had somehow gotten extremely lucky and been paired with his girlfriend. "This isn't going to be so bad, is it, Harry?"
Harry smiled as he watched Hermione, who was walking to lunch while reading a book. "No, not at all," he said.
As he watched Hermione, he remembered something. "Oi, Granger!"
Hermione gave absolutely no sign that she was listening, so Harry knew that she was. "Are you going to our first Quidditch match on Saturday? I'm going for my 25th straight capture…"
Hermione scoffed and turned around. "You think I give a damn about your stupid Quidditch skills?" she asked rhetorically, speaking to him for the first time since the incident. "Based on what you know of me, how would that impress me?"
"So you want to be impressed?" asked Harry smoothly, smirking at her.
"Of course not!" said Hermione, her face heating up a bit. "I'm trying to get you to stop bothering me, period."
"Er…we're kind of working on a big project together, so that's going to be kind of hard to do," said Harry.
"We are not working on the project," said Hermione. "I'm doing it all so you can't mess it up!"
"Hey!" said Harry indignantly. "I need to do this stuff so I can do well on my N.E.W.T.s! That's not even fair!"
Hermione had a brief internal struggle with herself. "You can read the report when I'm done," she said grudgingly. "Nothing else."
Harry knew that that was all he was going to get out of that bargain. "Fine," he said. "Now, about the match. Will you go to dinner with me in Hogsmeade for our celebration party? I could use an intelligent, foxy lady at my side."
Hermione shot him another withering glare. "You are so stupid."
"I compliment you and all you have to say is that I'm stupid?" said Harry. "Not very nice, is it?"
"Just leave me alone!" demanded Hermione. "That's why I'm calling you stupid!"
"Hmmm…" said Harry thoughtfully. "I know! I'll leave you alone if...you agree to go on a date with me."
"No," said Hermione quickly and decisively. "I wouldn't go on a date with you if you were the last man on Earth."
They were approaching the Great Hall at this point and Harry left her with a final thought. "You're so confident now, but…you'll give in eventually."
He smirked to himself as he imagined the look of fury on Hermione's face.
That night was the first night Hermione actually worked on her homework in the shared common room while Harry was in there. And for once Harry didn't bother her. He knew that he would be in for some serious pain if he interrupted her studies-they were absolutely sacred to her.
At 10 PM Harry was shocked out of the stupor he was in (he had been thinking very hard about an Arithmancy answer) by the sound of a giant book being slammed on the table.
"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed out of instinct as he jumped in his seat.
Hermione just rolled her eyes at him before opening the book and sticking the end of her quill into her mouth in concentration. "What is that book for?" Harry asked with genuine curiosity.
Hermione silently sighed as though she were dealing with a young child. "This is the Potions Syllabary. So I can write the report."
"You're starting tonight?" asked Harry incredulously. "It's not due for another month!"
"Of course I'm starting it tonight!" said Hermione. "Better early than at the last minute." With that said, she turned back to her work, giving Harry the clear sign that he was to stop talking to her.
They worked in silence for the next half hour, when Harry finished his homework. Harry pretended that he wasn't finished so he could watch Hermione in her element. She was always at her most beautiful when she was working and concentrating. And when she was yawning. And when her eyes were slowly closing. And when she fell asleep on the sofa not ten minutes later, not even a page of the report finished.
Harry smiled and conjured a soft blanket to tuck Hermione in. The thought to disturb her in her sleep so she could move to her bed never crossed his mind-she looked so peaceful when she was sleeping. As he tucked her in, she smiled and her eyes slowly opened before hazy confusion passed through them. "Am I…dreaming?" she asked softly.
Harry nodded, hoping she would fall back asleep in his presence. Hermione's eyes closed and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but Hermione wasn't done yet. "Why do you have to be such an arse in real life?" she asked. "Why can't you be the Harry of my dreams? The one…the one who's always nice to me and decides to ro…" she let out a big yawn, "…romance me," she breathed before her breathing became even.
Harry, on the other hand, wasn't breathing out of shock. Hermione really did have hidden feelings for him…well, for a nicer, more romantic him. But some form of feeling was definitely there.
Now if he could only become the man of his dreams.
What could he do that was nice?
Harry thought hard, for some reason scanning the room for ideas. His eyes came to rest on the potions book. How better to show that he was nice and cared for her than doing a bunch of work?
So he pulled the Syllabary so it was facing him and began looking up the ingredients.
He found Lacewing Flies, put the pen to the paper and wrote, "The main property of Lacewing Flies is that it spreads the catalyst needed for a short-term DNA makeover…"
"Ahhh!" cried Harry as a freezing cold jet of water slammed into his face, waking him up.
"Finite!" said a very angry (ah…he mentally sighed in bliss) Hermione.
"What the bloody hell was that for?" he demanded.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Hermione, holding up the finished potions report, which totaled in at 13 pages.
"What do you mean?" asked Harry. "Isn't it obvious? I did the report last night after you fell asleep."
"You did 12 pages of writing just to make me mad?" asked Hermione incredulously. "Your resolve to piss me off is really that great?"
"What?" asked Harry, genuinely confused. "I did it because I was trying to be nice," he informed her.
"…Nice?" Hermione asked as though she had never heard the word before.
"Yeah, nice," said Harry as though she was stupid (she was seriously offending him-was it that foreign a concept that he had it in himself to be nice?). "You fell asleep and I knew you wanted the report done as soon as possible so I did it last night."
Hermione looked torn as to how she wanted to respond. On the one hand she wanted to be mad at Harry like normal and on the other she wanted to open up a bit to him and thank him…except for the fact that the last time she opened up to him she got hurt. "Whatever," she finally replied indifferently. "That wasn't even the reason I woke you up."
"What do you mean?" asked Harry.
"Quidditch match starts in an hour and a half," said Hermione. "Shouldn't you be getting ready or something?" she asked with what seemed to be genuine concern.
"Oh, Merlin!" said Harry before dashing upstairs to change into his Quidditch robes. He would've normally been down at the pitch by now, but he had stayed up until three in the morning finishing the report.
When he got back down to the common room, he smirked at Hermione. "Thanks for waking me up. Looks like you might actually care about me," he teased her.
"Yeah right," said Hermione indifferently. "I just want Gryffindor to keep the Quidditch and House Cups."
Harry sighed in resignation and opened the portrait hole. Just as he was about to step through the portrait hole Hermione finally sucked up her pride and said, "And Harry…" it was actually the use of his first name that truly caught his ear. He looked back to see Hermione looking at her feet. "Thanks for finishing the report."
And Harry, in return, decided to take his foot out of his mouth and neither gloat nor mention the fact that she called him Harry for the first time. However, he did hopefully ask, "Are you coming to the match?"
Hermione just shot him her glare that said 'are you really that stupid?'
Looked like there was still a long way to go.
Hermione didn't know why, but she had actually gone down to watch the match. Aurora was sitting right next to her, happily waving a Gryffindor flag. According to Aurora, she didn't give a damn if Harry took a bludger to the face but she wanted to see Daniel in his first match. Daniel was a chaser and therefore a prime target for bludgers, much to the sadness of his older sister.
Gryffindor was currently losing to Slytherin by eighty points. The actual main problem of that was Daniel. The Slytherin chasers were all sixth or seventh years so it was actually like it was three chasers against two in terms of size and muscle, not to mention the fact that Daniel had first-match jitters.
Slytherin pulled up to a hundred over Gryffindor and Hermione's spirits were sinking. Winning was looking more and more hopeless. According to Aurora however, there was a reason why Harry always bragged about his Quidditch skills. He was the best seeker in over 300 years to attend Hogwarts, plain and simple.
And Hermione did have to admit that he looked more at home on a broom than the ground, pulling maneuvers that seemed impossible and making them look effortless at the same time. The only way Gryffindor would win was if Harry snatched the snitch soon.
And speak of the devil…Harry zipped by so fast that Hermione had to grab her hat to keep it from flying off. There was only one reason why Harry would be going that fast, and the crowd knew it. The Gryffindor side was deafeningly loud as Harry wove through the other players on the pitch in pursuit of the little golden ball. The Slytherin seeker was falling farther and farther behind as he maneuvered through the other players less smoothly than Harry, who was now diving at breakneck speed. Hermione saw the glint of gold streak through the pitch towards the stands right where she was at, and she watched in slow motion as Harry approached it, a look of fierce determination on his face. It was actually quite intimidating and dark.
Then both Slytherin beaters rose behind him, bats held high and primed to strike. They both hit bludgers, which went careening in Harry's direction. Harry was so focused on the snitch that he didn't notice, and the bludgers were definitely going to reach Harry first. The Gryffindor beaters were on the other side of the pitch. Harry was going to be demolished by those bludgers.
"Harry! LOOK OUT!"
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it and please review!