Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Lovers Potion Number 9 ❯ Chapter 1

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

It was an unusually sunny and breezy day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Although Harry hardly remembered this as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was his last class of the day, but it was the only one that he truly detested. Potions was, after all, taught by Severus Snape, a tall, pale man with greasy shoulder-length hair, crooked nose, and a personality that made his physique worthy of Mr. Universe.

"Potter, the potion is supposed to look orange… not nauseous green," Snape sneered as he inspected the contents of Harry's cauldron. Harry mumbled "Yes, sir" and lowered his head even closer to the parchment he had been writing on, hoping that Snape wouldn't see the "drop dead" glare Harry was sending his way and take points from Gryffindor House.

"Mr. Weasley, I suggest you wipe that smirk off your face. Yours isn't any better," Snape said to the red haired man sitting next to Harry, his voice full of bitterness. It was Ron Weasley, one of Harry's best friends since they took the Hogwarts Express together a little more than six years ago.

"Yes, sir" Ron replied to Snape, lowering his eyes. As soon as Snape turned around and decided to torture Neville instead, Ron leaned in against Harry and said, "I wasn't smirking, mate. I was wincing. This thing smells worse than Buckbeak's dung."

"Agreed. This heat is not helping either," Harry said off-handedly as he tried to smooth the back of his hair which, due to the high humidity, was sticking up worse than ever. Between the fact that the Potions classroom was located in one of Hogwarts deepest dungeons, that it had no windows, and that they had to share the classroom with the Slytherins, and the strong smell coming from their cauldrons, Harry was feeling slightly claustrophobic.

"You okay, Harry? You look a little pale," Ron whispered as he added the essence of belladonna to his potion and continued stirring. "Yeah," Harry added, sounding unconvinced even in his own ears.

"Is Harry Potter feeling ill?" a squeaky voice said in a whisper from behind Ron. They both quickly turned around to watch a short house-elf with green eyes the size of tennis balls looking at Harry with worry.

"Dobby, are you mad? What are you doing here?" Ron whispered, looking over his shoulder at Snape, who was still ranting at Neville for not waiting 15 minutes before adding the lily powder. "Dobby's been here the whole class, Wheezy sir. Dobby is in charge of cleaning this classroom after Harry and his Wheezy leave."

"What do you want, Dobby?" Harry whispered quickly. "I heard Harry Potter was ill, sir." Dobby whispered anxiously. Seamus Finnegan, who was sitting with Dean Thomas in the desk next to Harry's, looked over this shoulder and almost spilled his essence of belladonna over his shit.

Harry looked over his shoulder worriedly; Snape was bound to see Dobby sooner or later. He feared what might happen to Dobby is Snape caught the house-elf interrupting his class.

"I'm just a little warm. That's all. Now go!" Harry whispered in one breath. The worry vanished from Dobby's face, replaced by a caring smile. "Would Harry Potter like some cold pumpkin juice?" he asked excitedly. Before Harry could answer, Dobby waved his arm and a tall glass of cold pumpkin juice appeared in his desk.

Ron quickly hid the glass behind his cauldron. Caring more about what might happen to Dobby than what Snape might do to him if he caught him with juice on his desk, Harry whispered, "Fine. Thanks. Now go!"

With another wave of his hand, Dobby vanished from the room.

"Is there something interesting about the wall, Mr. Potter?" Snape's cold voice boomed. Harry looked back; Snape was standing in front of his desk, his pale arms crossed over his chest, a not-so-amused expression in his face.

"Nothing, sir," Harry said as he tried to busy himself with adding the moonstone powder. As soon as Snape turned around to walk behind his desk, Harry reached in front of Ron's cauldron and, without even looking, took a bit gulp of pumpkin juice, emptying half of the glass, the cold liquid spreading a refreshing sensation throughout his body.

"I needed that," Harry whispered as he put the glass back down in the desk, hiding it behind Ron's cauldron, since his own work area was still cluttered with the remains of his potion's ingredients.

"Professor Snape, sir?" a cold, drawling voice said from the front of the class. Harry didn't have to look up to know that the voice belonged to Draco Malfoy, the white-haired, pointy-faced boy with the perpetual sneer on his lips. Maybe Harry couldn't stand Snape, but Malfoy was Harry's least favorite person in Hogwarts.

"What is it, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape answered, his voice more gentle than usual. It was the voice that he reserved only for his fellow teachers and students from his own house. "I was wondering. This potion… it seems like a waste of time, doesn't it? Why would we need to learn a love potion anyway?" Malfoy asked as he looked down at his cauldron, obviously disgusted by the smell that came out of it.

If it were a student from any other house, Snape would have taken points from them for daring to question his curriculum. But, since Malfoy was a pureblood Slytherin, Snape merely replied, "I couldn't agree more with you, Mr. Malfoy. However, the Ministry of Magic has decided that this is one of the potions that come at the N.E.W.T. examination, so I am forced to waste my time teaching it to you." "Then by all means, don't," Ron whispered next to Harry as he added the last of the ingredients to his potion.

When only five minutes remained before the end of the class, Snape, still seating on the chair behind his desk, announced, "Alright. The Love Potion No. 9 should be ready. Please, prepare a sample for evaluation." The sounds of the students looking for vials to store their offending potions echoed in the classroom.

"That's a queer name. Why is it called Love Potion No. 9?" Millicent Bullstrode's annoying voice carried across the room. Not surprisingly, the person who answered the question wasn't Snape, but the delicate Gryffindor girl standing next to Neville. It was Harry's other best friend and constant companion, Hermione Granger.

"It was originally called the Philtrum Casses Amator potion, but the name was changed during the 1960's because of a popular song written by a muggle who was temporarily under the potion's control. The wizarding community thought it was so amusing that they adopted the name until the Ministry was forced to recognize it as the official name," Hermione said matter-of-factly as she secured the cork to her vial.

"Miss Granger is correct," Snape sneered, his voice contorted in an expression that could only be interpreted as physically ill for paying Hermione a compliment. As an afterthought, he added, "Five points from Gryffindor for speaking without raising your hand."

Harry, who was used to Snape putting Hermione down at any opportunity he had, crushed the eucalyptus leaves in his hand. "Bastard," Ron muttered angrily as he went back to finish his potion.

"If you take five points from Gryffindor, then you must take five points from Slytherin house too, because Millicent also spoke without raising her hand," Dean Thomas said out loud, his voice defiant. Snape hit his desk hard with the palm of his hand, fixing his eyes on Dean. His glare was so full of concealed anger that, if looks could kill, Harry was sure Dean wouldn't leave the classroom alive.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor! Miss Hermione is not a damsel in distress and does not need you to come to her aid!" Snape hissed, his teeth clenched so hard Harry was sure they would break. The anger rose so rapidly inside of Harry that he was already on his feet before Ron grabbed him by the shoulder and tried pulling him back to his seat.

Snape had noticed this too, and he answered Harry's action with a very twisted smile. "Do you have a problem with what I just said, Mr. Potter?" he asked threateningly. Harry stole a glance at Hermione. Her eyes were wide with alarm while she mouthed, "No! No!"

"No, sir," Harry said, his voice shaking with anger as he forced himself to sit down. Hermione smiled gratefully at him, and he forced himself to smile back. Harry picked up his vial from the wooden table and started filling it. When he next looked toward the front of the classroom, Hermione was already handing her sample, followed close by Parvati and Seamus. Neville, as usual, was trying hard to make his potion at least the right color.

Harry ached to get out of the classroom as soon as was possible, so he sealed his vial and walked toward Snape's desk. He stood in front of the desk, anger boiling inside him at the close sight of Snape's leering face.

"Potter, is there something you need?" Snape hissed at him. Harry felt that if he didn't let go of the vial in his hand soon, he would crush it. So he swallowed his pride and left his sample on the desk next to the others with an icy, "No, sir."

Harry ignored Malfoy's triumphant face as he turned around and walked back to his desk. By the time he had arrived, Ron was already filling his own vial and was now gathering his books from the floor. "I swear that man leaves a bitter taste in my mouth," Harry said as Malfoy made a whipping sound at him, handing in his sample, Crabbe and Goyle closely behind.

Harry glanced at the door that will soon be his exit out of this hellhole, his anger disappearing as he remembered that he won't see Snape until the end of the week. He could see Hermione speaking with Dean on the hallway beyond the doorframe. As usual, Hermione was waiting for Ron and him before walking together to the common room.

Harry took the glass that was hidden behind Ron's cauldron and took another big gulp until the glass was empty. The now warm and bitter liquid was still falling down his throat when he felt a great tug inside his stomach. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he watched Dean leaning close to Hermione and whispering something in her ear. Hermione put her hand over her mouth to stop the laughter.

Without knowing why, Harry suddenly felt irritated. His stomach gave another violent tug when he saw Dean put his hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"HARRY!" Ron suddenly screamed, his voice high with panic. "What?" Harry asks off-handedly as he continued to stare at Hermione, who was now waving goodbye to Dean. It wasn't until Ron grabbed his arm forcefully and shook him that Harry tore his eyes away from her.

"What?" Harry asked Ron moodily. "Harry, look…" Ron showed him the object he had on his hand. It was the pumpkin juice glass that Dobby had summoned from the kitchens. But how could it be? It was still half-full. He could have sworn he had just finished it. Had Dobby appeared again and refilled his glass?

Seeing the confusion in Harry's face, Ron added, "Now, look at your hand!" Harry looked down. In his hand, where Harry had assumed was the empty glass of pumpkin juice, was Ron's potions vial.

And it was now empty.

Harry's eyes immediately went back to the door, looking for Hermione. She was still standing in front of the doorway. She smiled tiredly when she caught him looking at her and waved her hand, beckoning for Ron and Harry to join her.

Ron looked over his shoulder, trying to pinpoint what had caught Harry's attention. He went pale when he noticed Hermione was standing on the hallway.

"Harry?" he whispered ominously, pulling on Harry's sleeve like a child fighting for his parents' attention. "WHAT?" Harry screamed. "Did you look at Hermione while you were drinking my potion?" Ron asked him seriously.

"Yes. So?" he replied, once again forcing himself to look from Hermione to Ron. "So? SO? This is Potion No. 9! A love potion, Harry! Whoever drinks it falls in love with the first person they see!" Ron explained, his voice higher with every word he uttered.

"Potter! Weasley! What in blazes are you doing?" Snape screamed from his desk. "Nothing, sir. Just preparing to submit my work," Ron muttered as he took the glass from Harry's hand and filled it with the liquid in his cauldron.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron. I am not under the potion's spell!" Harry whispered angrily as Ron walked past him toward Snape's desk. Harry then looked back out the door.

And his stomach dropped when he noticed Hermione wasn't there.

It wasn't until he felt Ron's hand on his shoulder that he stopped looking at the spot where Hermione had been moments ago. "Mate, you are in big trouble," Ron said with a mixture of concern and amusement.

"Shut it, Ron," were the only words Harry could articulate as he hastily grabbed his schoolbag and walked to the door, Ron walking behind him.

No sooner had he crossed the doorframe that he searched the hallway for a sign of Hermione. "Now you believe me?" Ron said, noticing what Harry had just done.

"Let's go. I'm hungry," Harry said hastily. But dinner was the last thing on Harry's mind as a single thought consumed him.

What if Ron was right?


"Philtrum Casses Amator" roughly translates as "Potion of the Snared Lover."

The Great Hall was buzzing alive with students from all four houses as they came inside for a bite to eat before returning to their common rooms. But there was only one person that Harry wanted to see coming thru those double oak doors, and is the one person they hadn’t seen since they had left Snape’s classroom.

“Ron, could you please close your mouth when you chew? You are not a pig, contrary to popular belief. And could you please not put half the table’s servings on your plate? It gives people the idea that you bite more than you can chew…” Harry absently heard the redheaded Ginny Weasley scold her older brother. She was sitting next to Ron, who in turn was chewing loudly next to Harry.

His mouth still half-full, Ron replied, “I would worry more about what’s on your plate, Ginny. Look at that!” Ron pointed at Ginny’s plate; aside from some slices of watermelon and a few grapes, Ginny’s plate looked awfully empty.

“I didn’t feel like having a heavy dinner. Besides, Harry hasn’t even touched his food. Go worry about his dietary habits,” Ginny said, pointing at Harry’s plate. At the mention of his name, Harry forced himself to look from the oak doors toward Ginny and Ron.

“What?” Harry replied absentmindedly, not having followed the siblings’ petty argument. “You haven’t touched your food. Are you okay, Harry?” Ginny asked worriedly. Ron, however, was smiling, for he guessed who Harry was looking for.

“I… I’m not hungry, I guess,” Harry replied to Ginny, forcing a nonchalant smile. “Yeah. He’s too busy looking for someone,” Ron added, putting his hand over his mouth to hide the smirk that came over his face.

After the initial shock of finding out Harry had drank the love potion while looking at Hermione, Ron had decided this was a perfect opportunity to have fun with Harry’s predicament rather than freaking out about it.

“Looking for who?” Ginny asked as she took a bite from her watermelon, the juice dripping lazily down her chin. “For Hermione,” Harry said before he could stop himself. He already had enough on his plate with Ron making fun of him; he didn’t need to have Ginny, heir apparent to Fred and George’s mischief legacy, making fun of him too.

“That’s right. Where’s is she?” Ginny asked, scanning the Gryffindor table just in case Hermione had seated somewhere else. She winked when she caught Neville’s eye. “That’s what I’d like to know,” Harry mumbled.

Ron cleared his throat in a not so conspicuous manner. “What? I’m just worried about her. That’s all…” Harry replied unconvincingly. “Yeah, right. And I’m Merlin’s heir,” Ron whispered out of Ginny’s earshot.

“I am! You know she usually spends all night studying, and… and… Well, the brain needs proper nutrition to work… and… and…” Harry tried to redeem himself before Ron interrupted by saying, “And you are now a love sick fool.” “Who’s a love sick fool?” Ginny asked.

“NOBODY!” Both Harry and Ron answered, slightly startling the smaller redhead. They were spared further interrogation by Ginny when Lavender and Parvati sat in front of them.

“I can’t believe in less than a week we finally get to celebrate the Halloween Ball!” the trio caught the end of Parvati’s sentence. Harry groaned. He had forgotten everything about the Halloween Ball. Truth be told, he was in no mood to celebrate, dress up, or dating for that matter… not when Voldemort and his Death Eaters were still loose.

“Bet you pretty girls already have dates,” Ginny said with unconcealed girlish enthusiasm. “Of course! I’m going with Seamus,” Lavender answered. “And I’m going with Dean. He’s a great dancer, you know,” Parvati added.

“I know,” Ginny replied with a smile, not wanting to inform Parvati that she had dated Dean for more than five months and was fully aware of his dancing skills. Harry, on the other hand, was delighted by the news. If Dean was going with Parvati, it meant that he wasn’t interested in Hermione and that the reason he had stood up for her during Potions was nothing but friendship.

‘You git, why do you care? You shouldn’t! It’s the potion speaking! I am such an idiot! When has following Dobby’s advise resulted in anything but trouble!’’

Harry slapped his own forehead with the palm of his hand. Ron raised his eyebrow at him worriedly, but thankfully no one else had noticed.

“I didn’t know you fancied Seamus,” Ginny said to Lavender as she finished the last of her watermelon slices. “He’s a nice guy. Although I have to admit he wasn’t my dream date,” Lavender added with a tinge of regret.

Ginny looked around the table to make sure Seamus wasn’t nearby before whispering, “Who was?” Lavender and Parvati leaned across the table until they were less than a foot away from Ginny’s face. “Roger Davies,” Lavender whispered, getting an audible groan from Ron.

“What?” Lavender asked Ron, personally insulted that Ron didn’t share her pick for her dream date. “It’s clichéd! Of course you are going to like him… he’s handsome, rich, Quidditch captain, and Head Boy. If you ask me, Seamus is much a better date than Big Head Roger,” Ron said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, come off it Ron. You are just happy to know that Seamus is not taking Ginny to the ball. You are worse than a hound on a trail. Leave the girl some space to breathe!” Parvati said before she bit loudly into a very juicy apple she had been holding since she sat down. Ron glared at her, and she glared in return. Ron finally looked down. Parvati was a champion of staring contests.

“Well, that too,” Ron whispered before he stole a glance at Harry, who had gone back to looking at the entrance to the Great Hall. “So, Roger has a date then?” Ginny asked nonchalantly, although the answer interested her more than she could tell Ron or Harry. She didn’t know if Roger had a date, but she was sure she knew whom Roger fancied.

“I don’t think so. But Padma told me that Christina told Diana that she had heard Roger telling Maxwell that he was going to ask the Head Girl to the ball,” Parvati said, her voice falling into a whisper as she leaned across the table.

A loud “WHAT?” that came from Ron and a resounding “YES!” that came from Ginny brought Harry’s attention back to the table. “What?” he asked densely as he looked from the two redheads to Parvati and Lavender.

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Ginny exclaimed giddily. “What is exciting?” Harry asked, even more confused by the fact that Ron was now looking at him with an expression of “sorry” written all over his freckled face.

“Oh, it’s nothing that will interest YOU, Harry,” Lavender said with a conspiratorial glance at Parvati, getting a giggle from both Ginny and Parvati. “Didn’t you heard what Parvati said, mate?” Ron asked, his unusually serious tone carrying in his whisper.

“If I had heard I wouldn’t be asking now, would I?” Harry said without much patience. “What the Gossip Twins just said was that Big Head Davies is going to ask the Head Girl to go to the ball,” Ron said between clenched teeth, out of hearing range from the three Gryffindor girls around them, who were now talking about the costumes they were going to use and speculating about who the guest musical group was going to be.

“So, what’s the big de…” Harry started, but the sentence trailed off before he had a chance to finish it.

He had just remembered who the Head Girl was.

“HERMIONE!?” Harry said loudly, receiving annoyed glances from the people around him. It wasn’t until Ron opened his eyes wide in surprise that Harry heard the familiar feminine voice behind him ask, “What is it, Harry?” Harry looked over his shoulder. Standing less than a foot away from him was Hermione Granger.

“Hermione… err… nothing! I just… I called you to… to… to tell you to come join us!” Harry lied not so smoothly. Hermione didn’t seemed to notice however as she playfully hit him on the shoulder. “Silly git. I always join you,” Hermione said, going around the table and sitting next to Parvati and directly in front of Harry.

“So, what were you all chatting about?” Hermione asked casually as she started buttering a piece of freshly baked bread. “NOTHING!” the five of them replied, suddenly very interested in their corresponding food plates. Hermione raised her eyebrow at Harry, requesting more information, but he just shrugged.

However, Harry could see that the Gossip Twins were discussing between themselves if it was safe to prod for more information. Finally, Lavender nudged Parvati in the ribs. Clearing her throat unceremoniously, Parvati asked casually, “So, Hermione… have you seen Roger today?”

“Yes. He came to see me after Potions ended. Why?” Hermione said, stuffing her mouth with a giant grape. ‘So, that’s why she didn’t wait for us,’ Harry thought, his heartbeat quickening slightly. As he watched Hermione gulp half her glass of pumpkin juice, it occurred to Harry that Hermione was in a definite hurry.

“And… did he say anything?” Lavender asked nonchalantly. “Yes…” Hermione said before biting on another grape. Harry felt his insides boil suddenly and he accidentally bent the fork he had been holding onto for the last 15 minutes. Thankfully, Ron was the only one who noticed his reaction.

“AND?” Lavender, Parvati and Ginny asked at the same time, startling Hermione slightly. “You are an overexcited bunch today, aren’t you? He just came to tell me that Peeves had somehow come inside our common room and had tear all the curtains,” Hermione said as she shrugged toward Harry and Ron, thinking the girls’ interest in the conversation was because they had heard about Peeves latest mischief.

“Oh… that’s… too bad,” Ginny said as she exchanged knowing glances with Lavender and Parvati. “Yes. Thankfully, Roger told the Bloody Baron about it. Peeves is not coming to our room anytime soon,” Hermione finished.

Harry finally grasped that it was the second time Hermione had used the word “our”. And it was just then that he remembered that Hermione, as Head Girl, shared a private common room with Hogwarts’ Head Boy. He hadn’t really thought about it before since Hermione still spent most of her free time in the Gryffindor common room.

But now… now it was different. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that the girl he loved was sharing a cozy common room (not to mention a private bathroom complete with tub) with a guy who was six-inches taller than him, had better hair, better face, a healthy tan, MUCH better grades, and who was …according to Parvati and Lavender… every girls’ fantasy.

‘Wait… “girl I love”? Oh, for Merlin’s sake! Get a grip, Potter! You don’t love Hermione! Well, you do love her but not like that. She’s your friend, your mate! Oh, how long did Snape say the potion’s effects were supposed to last? Eight hours? Damn, maybe I should just go to my room right now and don’t come out until tomorrow. Yeah, I should do that. Then everything’s going to be the way it’s supposed to be,’ Harry thought before Ron’s voice brought him back to the land of the living.

“Harry, didn’t you want to ask Hermione something?” Ron said, his eyes wide as if he was trying to communicate something important to Harry. Whatever it was it was lost to Harry.

“I don’t…” Harry said, before getting a hard nudge on the ribs from Ron’s elbow. Hermione had stopped eating and was now looking at them with curiosity.

“Yes, you do! Remember? You just told me how you were stuck in the History of Magic essay that we need to submit tomorrow… and you told me you were going to ask Hermione for help,” Ron said forcefully as he awkwardly nodded his head in Hermione’s direction.

“Do you have something in your neck Ron?” Hermione asked, unable from her point of view to see the look of “play along” Ron was giving Harry. Finally, Harry gathered Ron was trying to help him find an excuse to spend time with Hermione.

‘Ron, you sod! You are supposed to be helping me get out of this mess, not pushing me further in!’’

Harry tried to force his thoughts into his eyes so Ron could see and stop his meddling. But either Ron didn’t understand or he wasn’t going to be deterred as he continued nodding conspicuously at Hermione.

“Ron, are you sure you are alright?” Hermione asked worriedly. Harry was about to turn to her and scream, “He’s fine. He’s just being an idiot!”, when he noticed how charming she looked when she was frowning, biting her bottom lip in an expression mix with both confusion and concern. And while his brain yelled, ‘Don’t play along!’ Harry found himself saying, “Oh, right! I’d forgotten.”

“Hermione, can you help me with my essay?” Harry asked quickly before he had a chance to think twice. The truth was that Hermione had already finished her plate, and that he didn’t want to see her leave again.

“Harry, you know I will!” Hermione said with a soft smile as she reached across the table and patted his hand with hers. Harry had use of enough of his brains to stop himself from grabbing her hand.

“Great. Harry will go with you to get your things and I’ll wait for you two in the common room,” Ron said triumphantly. Harry stepped on his foot while looking at Hermione, who was oblivious to Harry’s predicament, judging by how she savored the last of her dessert.

“OUCH! Watch it!” Ron complained. “Sorry,” Harry apologized in his most sarcastic tone. Hermione finished the last of her pumpkin juice and quickly stood up. “Finished. See you later,” Hermione said casually as she started walking away,

“Wait. Harry is going too! Harry, why don’t you go with Hermione and help her with her books?” Ron said as he started the annoying head nod again. “Don’t push it, Ron,” Harry whispered between clenched teeth.

“Oh, I’m not going to my common room now. I have to go by the library first,” Hermione said. “Again?” Harry and Ron asked simultaneously; Hermione had already spent half of her lunch hour in there.

“Yes, I promised Roger I was going to help him with his Arithmacy,” Hermione continued nonchalantly. Ginny raised a curious eyebrow at the Gossip Twins, who had just found the conversation between Harry, Ron and Hermione very interesting.

Harry, on the other hand, found the noise his teeth made when they were grinding incredibly annoying.

“Oh, so Roger is going to be there too?” Parvati asked as casually as she could. “Yes,” Hermione answered with a frown. What Parvati and Lavender found so interesting about Roger Davies, she didn’t know.

“I’ll be at the common room at around nine,” Hermione said, turning her attention back to Harry. She wasn’t far from them when she stopped and turned around. “Oh, and Harry… if you want to start sooner, you are welcome to come to the library with me,” Hermione added.

“Thanks,” Harry answered as he forced himself to smile casually. Hermione didn’t notice the strain for she turned around and left the Great Hall.

“If you go there, I’m going to kill you myself!” Ginny threatened Harry, her voice half-joking, half deadly serious. “WHY?” Ron asked before Harry got a chance.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious?” Lavender said, “He’s going to ask her to be his date while they are the library. He’s such a gentleman.” “What do you mean?” Harry asked her hurriedly, his throat feeling a little more dry than it should.

It was Parvati who answered by saying, “Well, he has to ask her in a neutral ground just in case Hermione is crazy enough to say no. Since they practically live together…”

“They share a COMMON room! They do not live together,” Harry corrected quickly, suddenly feeling the urge to slam the kidney pie in Parvati’s face.

“Whatever! In any case, asking her in neutral ground means that even if she says: “No, thank you. I am too much of a loony to accept,” then she won’t feel out of place when they are sharing sleepless nights on their PRIVATE common room while sitting next to the cozy fire,” Parvati finished.

Parvati and Lavender stood up and left before Ron could give them a piece of his mind. Ginny also stood up, but she did not leave the Great Hall immediately. Instead, she turned toward Harry and Ron and inspected them gravely.

“Now… do I have your promise you two are not going to go into the library and be Hermione’s third wheel?” she asked seriously with a voice that she usually reserved to beaters of the Quidditch team she was playing against.

“We promise,” Harry and Ron said simultaneously. Her eyes filled with suspicion, she looked from Harry to Ron and back.

“Relax, Ginny. You can trust us,” Harry said with sincere smile. After a few seconds, Ginny sighed and said, “Well, I guess I can. I’ll see you guys later.” She turned around and started walking away, but she was still within sight when Ron leaned toward Harry and whispered, “You really weren’t going to keep that promise, were you?”

“Hell no!”

****************

30 minutes later…

“Are you sure this is what we want?”

Ron hesitantly asked Harry as he watched his friend open his trunk and take out a piece of clothing from the very bottom. Ron had seen Harry use the Invisibility Cloak enough times to recognize it immediately. Harry had already hidden the Extendable Ears George and Fred had given him in his pocket. It was definitely an undercover operation.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked absently. He had formulated this plan as soon as he watched Hermione leaving the Great Hall.

‘You are just concerned for your friend. Because Hermione IS your friend. You just want to make sure Roger doesn’t try to… you know… get funny with her. Yes, that’s it.’ Harry repeated in his head over and over attempt in a lame attempt to try to convince himself of something he wasn’t sure of.

“Harry, you DO know you are under the potion’s effects, right? Maybe that’s the reason you are jealous and you want to sneak in…” Ron managed to say before Harry closed his trunk with a loud thud and glared at him.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Ron! I am not under any potion’s spell! I am not doing this because I am jealous… I am simply concerned for my friend! You know Hermione has never… well, she trusts people too much! I don’t want Roger to take advantage of her,” Harry said, feeling slightly secure by how sure he sounded in his own ears.

Ron, however, was not convinced as he muttered, “Yeah, right. Whatever.” Harry pointed at him as he decided to fight fire with fire. “Hold on! You too wanted to go into the library and see what was going on! Maybe you are the one who is in love with Hermione!” he said, trying to sound accusing and failing.

“Don’t be a git, Harry,” Ron said calmly, “I am helping out because Roger is one of my least favorite people in this school and, if I have to go to the Davies-Granger wedding, I’m going to hang myself from the ceiling with my jock strap.”

“I don’t know if I should be disturbed or disgusted,” Harry mumbled, shaking his head as he tried to dissipate the mental picture of Ron and his jock strap. “Anyway, Harry,” Ron continued unabated, “One thing is to go to the library and, you know, interrupt them by sitting next to Hermione and asking her for pointers every few seconds, but to sneak in? That’s stalking!”

“We promised Ginny, we weren’t going to be third wheels,” Harry said. He was getting angry with Ron for making him stall.

‘Oh, if Roger has her hands on her, I am going to…’

Ron’s voice snapped him from his reverie. “Oh, yes, breaking a stupid promise to Ginny is bad. But spying on our best friend isn’t?” Harry sighed. He was going to try one more thing to convince Ron, but if Ron didn’t agree, then he would just have to knock his best friend’s lights out and beg for forgiveness later.

“Ron, think about this. We both dislike Roger. We both think Hermione can do much better than him,” Harry started saying. “And will that much better person be you, mate?” Ron interrupted.

“No, you idiot. It’s not me. I told you! This is not about me being in love with Hermione! This is about two mates looking out for their best friend! Agreed?” Harry replied with certainty.

Ron thought about it for a few seconds before answering, “Agreed.” “It’s settled then. Let’s go,” Harry said as he tucked the invisibility cloak under his sweater and left their dormitory with determination. Ron reluctantly followed him as they walked thought the Hogwart’s halls, occasionally encountering some of their fellow students, but walking briskly before anyone could engage them in conversation.

When they were standing in front of the boy’s bathroom that was a hallway away from the library, Harry quickly pulled Ron inside and threw the Invisibility Cloak over them. Ron had grown so much during the summer that the cloak barely reached their mid-calves.

“You’ll have to bend your knees a bit, mate,” Harry instructed, shifting nervously. He loved Ron like a brother, but being pressed against him was not one of Harry’s favorite ways of passing the time. “Why me?” Ron hissed. “Because you are the one who’s freakishly tall!” Harry snapped.

Ron adjusted himself until the cloak finally touched the floor. “Done. And by the way, girls think tall men are sexy,” Ron whispered as they slowly walked out of the bathroom. “I’ll call you ‘sexy’ everyday if you just shut up now,” Harry pleaded as they silently stepped inside the library.

The library was a huge room with at least 30 pairs of tall bookshelves surrounding multiple study tables. Madam Prince was sitting on her desk pretending to read a book about Mythological and Magical Creatures of Romania, but Harry knew better. That woman watched over her library like a hawk watches over her newborns.

“Do you see her?” Ron whispered behind him. Harry was going to answer “no”, when he suddenly spotted Hermione’s brown hair sitting by the far corner’s table. There was another head next to hers, with blond hair and maybe a foot taller than hers. Holding up the blond head, he could see pair of broad shoulders and a confident stance Harry had always wanted to posses.

Harry felt his stomach drop a few notches when he saw Roger putting his arm around Hermione and patting her on the shoulder. If he hadn’t taken his hand off a second later, Harry was sure he would have walked toward them and twisted Roger’s arm off.

“Closer,” Harry whispered as he made Ron follow him closer to where Hermione and Roger were sitting. “Harry, I can’t stand this much longer. My back is killing me,” Ron mumbled painfully. Harry found a perfect hiding spot on the high bookshelf a few feet away from Hermione. Moving a few Muggle studies books out of the way, Harry and Ron could partially see Hermione and Roger’s face more closely.

Ron sighed with relief as soon as he was able to stretch. If anyone had walked by the last bookshelf on the library, they would have seen Ron’s old sneakers and the bottom of his maroon trousers.

Harry noticed that Hermione indeed was working on an assignment for she had in her hand a blotched piece of parchment with a confusing numbered chart. Roger, however, didn’t seem to be that interested in the homework, since he looked at Hermione the whole time she was trying to explain something in the chart. Harry suddenly fought the urge to poke Roger’s eyes.

‘They’re talking… but what are they talking about? I mean, Hermione is trying to show him something in the chart, but now he’s saying something and… she’s laughing. What is it? Did he ask her to the prom yet? Wait… is he trying to rub his elbow against her breast? If he is, in I’m going to cut off his di… ‘

“Harry. That’s enough.” Ron whispered urgently. Harry had been so concentrated on spying on Hermione that he jumped at the sound of Ron’s voice. He watched as Hermione turned her head sharply around and looked at the other side of the bookshelf Harry and Ron were standing behind. “Did you hear something, Rog?” Hermione asked, frowning.

‘Rog? Why the hell is she calling him Rog? She never calls me Har or Arry…’

“I didn’t hear anything. Now, what was it you were saying about 91 divided by a prime?” Roger said smoothly as he tried to focus Hermione’s attention back on him.

“Chill, mate. Let’s go,” Ron urged. “Not yet,” Harry disagreed, “let me get a bit closer. I can’t really hear what they are saying under this thing.” “Any closer and we are going to step on Hermione’s foot!” Ron hissed.

Before Ron could protest, Harry carefully took off the Invisibility Cloak so it only covered Ron. He had an urgent need to see everything that was going on. He was afraid that behind the bookshelf, he was going to miss something as important as Hermione holding Roger’s hand or Roger softly tracing circles with his fingers on Hermione’s leg under the table.

So Harry did the only thing his distrustful brain thought of at the moment. He started climbing the bookshelf, using each shelf to go higher and higher until he reached the top shelf and on it. Harry looked down; he was at least 10 feet from the floor. Although he had a bird’s eye view of Roger and Hermione (‘At least I can now see where their hands are’) Harry still couldn’t figure out what they were talking about.

Just then he remembered the Extendable Ears he had in his pocket. ‘Reminder: tell George and Fred what a couple of geniuses they are’ Harry thought as he pulled them out of his pocket. Slowly, he lowered one of the ears until he could make out Hermione’s voice coming thru the device.

“So you see? When you divide 91 by any prime, you get what’s called a vortex epsilon, a powerful number that can be used for good or dark purposes. The higher the number you get, the more powerful the base spell is going to be,” Hermione was saying, making Harry scratch his head compulsively as he tried to make sense of her explanation.

“I get it now! Finally!” Roger said, flashing a smile that reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart. “You are a great teacher, Mione,” Roger added, giving Hermione a quick hug.

‘Mione? MIONE? That’s how I CALL… I mean, how Ron and I call her! What is this intruder doing calling her by our pet name’ Harry clenched his fist until his knuckles were white.

“I’m glad to help, Rog,” Hermione said coolly and stood up. “I promised Harry I was going to help him with his essay,” she said as she started gathering her thing, “so, I’ll see you later?”

‘That’s it, Hermione! Be a good girl and run from the slimy son of a b…’

“Wait! There’s something I want to ask you,” Roger said, his voicing sounding a little less casual than before. Harry leaned even further, until he had to use his free hand to grasp the shelf for fear of falling. He didn’t like where this was going.

“What is it, Roger?” Hermione asked without a hint that she knew where this was going. Roger stood up and faced her. “I was wondering if… well, if you’d like to be my date for the Halloween Ball,” he said, again flashing one of those smiles that will surely get him nominated for Witch’s Weekly Best Smile Award.

Harry was as irritated as Hermione was shock. Harry would have enjoyed seeing Hermione at such a loss for words if one of his hands hadn’t started to hurt and if his other hand wasn’t dreaming of wrapping itself around Roger’s throat.

“I… um… I… well… I’m flattered… I… em… don’t know… don’t know what to… what to say,” Hermione stuttered for what may have been the first time in her life. “Then say ‘YES’,” Roger said confidently, taking Hermione’s hand in his. Harry leaned even further, willing his mind to suddenly start transmitting extra-sensorial messages to Hermione.

‘Tell him to go screw himself! Tell him you are going with your two best friends because you don’t want to spend the evening with a self-centered, egotistical, ambitious, slimy motherfu…’

“Yes! I’ll go with you!” Hermione said, smiling up at Roger.

‘SHIT! NO! WHY!?’

No sooner had the words come out her mouth that Harry heard a loud creaking sound. And with a mixture of shock and alarm, he found himself rapidly moving closer and closer toward the floor.

Harry woke up abruptly, feeling the sweat clinging to his body as if he had just stepped out of the shower. He had been dreaming, but by Merlin’s sake, he couldn’t remember what he had been dreaming of. Harry sat on the bed and compulsively put a hand on to his forehead.

His scar was burning.

“You better get used to it. It’s going to hurt for a while,” Harry jumped at the sound of the voice and looked to his right. The voice belonged to Ron, who was sitting in a chair next to Harry’s bed.

It was only then that Harry noticed he wasn’t in his room, but in the territory of the Hogwart’s nurse, Madam Pomfrey. Harry noticed his left arm felt heavy and he looked down at it; his arm was bandaged and in a sling.

“What happened?” Harry asked Ron, feeling slightly dizzy. “You mean you don’t remember your little circus performance in the library?” Ron asked, raising his eyebrow emphatically.

‘The library? What happened in… oh’ Harry groaned. He remembered climbing up to the top shelf of the bookshelf in order to get a better look at Roger and Hermione. He remembered leaning away from it, and he remembered taking a hand off the shelf in order to lower an Extendable Ear to hear their conversation.

Harry didn’t remember anything else, but he didn’t need to be a Master of the Obvious in order to piece it together.

“I fell, didn’t I?” Harry said, sounding ashamed. Ron shook his head, “No, mate… you crashed AND burned. Broke the bloody desk Hermione and Roger had been using!” Harry then had inkling as to why his chest hurt.

“Where’s Hermione?” Harry asked Ron. “She’s making rounds,” Ron said casually. The look of disappointment in Harry’s eyes did not go unnoticed by the usually thick-as-steel Ron. “Oh, but she was very worried about you! She wanted to be here, but McGonagall made Roger assist Madam Pince on cleaning up the mess you left in the library, so…!” Ron offered.

“Yeah, right” the sarcasm evident in Harry’s voice even when he did not wished it. He thought he knew Hermione well enough to discern that, if she really wanted something, she would find a means to get it.

“You got a lot of explaining to do, mate,” Ron added.

“Oh, I bet Madam Pince just wants to get her bony hands around my neck,” Harry mumbled, closing his eyes tiredly. “Not to her, you git! To Hermione!” Ron replied.

“Why? Because I ruined Roger’s perfect proposal? Well, I’m sorry if I got blood on his white crisp shirt. I’ll try to bleed on myself next time” Harry said, surprised at his own bitterness. It was true what Ron had implied just moments ago… he had definitely expected to see Hermione standing by his bedside.

“I take it by your charming disposition that the Potion #9 is still working,” Ron snapped at him. Harry was ashamed with himself… he had been the one that had acted like a jerk. He knew he had no right to spy on Hermione, and that he definitely didn’t have a right to be mad at her for accepting Roger’s invitation.

But it still hurt like hell.

“What did you say to her?” Harry asked. “That you were trying to reach a book when the bookshelf toppled,” Ron said. “And she believed that?” Harry asked wearily as he closed his eyes. Ron’s ears went a slight shade of pink; he had never been a gifted liar.

“I don’t think so. But she didn’t say anything… she was too worried about you. She was crying…” Ron started answering. Harry didn’t want to hear anything else; the last thing he wanted to know was that he had made Hermione cry.

“What time is it?” Harry desperately wished to change the conversation. “A quarter to midnight,” Ron answered. “What?” he asked as he forced himself to open his eyes.

“Yeah, mate. You’ve been passed out for the last five hours. You knocked your head against the desk, you know… awful sound it made,” Ron replied. If it was almost midnight it meant that the effect of the potion was already passing.

“How long do I have to stay here?” Harry asked. “Madam Pomfrey said that you had to stay the whole night. She wants to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” Ron replied as he stood up from the chair and looked down at Harry.

“Alright. I’ll guess I’ll see you in the morning,” Harry said with a light wave of his good hand. “Sure. Try to catch some sleep,” Ron said with a yawn, patting Harry’s shoulder. Ron turned around and was out of sight, but Harry could still hear his footsteps in the room.

Ron’s footsteps suddenly stopped, but Harry knew his best friend was still in the room. “Harry?” he heard Ron say hesitantly.

“What?” Harry mumbled. “I’m sure Hermione wanted to be here more than anything else,” Ron said. Leaving behind that simple thought, Harry heard Ron’s footsteps as he finally left the hospital wing.

Harry was groggy; he didn’t know what Madam Pomfrey had given him, but it had to have been something quite powerful. And yet, he didn’t feel like going to sleep. His guilt over his behavior since he had taken the potion and the pain he felt every time he remembered how excited Hermione was about going to the ball with Roger made for two very contradicting train of thoughts that were colliding inside his tired mind.

‘Just go to sleep, Harry. Tomorrow you are going to wake up and all this mess would have cleaned up by itself.’

******************

2 Hours Later

But, as potent as the Madam Pomfrey’s medicines have been, sleep didn’t come over Harry. Instead, he had spent the last two hours looking up at the ceiling, his arms on his side, listening to the sound of his breathing and the occasional tapping of Madam Pomfrey’s feet on the cold marble floor.

He pretended to be asleep every time she walked by his bed to check up on him. He had too many things of his mind to add an old lady who had a tendency for being excruciatingly over-protective… like the growing headache that made his head feel like an overstuffed piñata.

He didn’t pay attention to the footsteps that were growing louder. ‘Must be Madam Pomfrey again’ he thought, slightly annoyed. It felt good to have someone actually caring for him… but it would be so much better if that someone was a certain seventeen-year-old brown-haired gal in a Hogwart’s uniform.

‘What the hell is wrong with me? The potion’s effect is supposed to be subsiding. I am not supposed to be feeling this way anymore… or am I? Maybe Ron did something with his potion that makes it last longer. Bloody Ron! I’m going to strangle him in the morning…

It wasn’t until he heard a familiar female voice whispering nearby that his senses were completely jerked awake. Harry looked thru the curtain around his bed and saw two outlines: a taller woman with an opened book on her desk, and a shorter, but full-bodied girl standing in front of her.

“What are you doing here so late, Ms. Granger?” Madam Pomfrey asked briskly. “I just finished my rounds. I was wondering if I could see my friend Harry before going to bed?” Hermione’s tired voice graced Harry’s ears. “He’s sleeping,” Madam Pomfrey answered.

‘That’s it, good woman! Send her back to her room where she be… Wait, no! Her room is next to Roger’s room and… oh, what the hell am I saying? I’ve gone bloody insane’.

“Oh, I understand. Can I see him just a minute? I promise not to wake him,” Hermione pleaded. His heart sank. She sounded very worried.

“All right, child. But just a minute,” Madam Pomfrey said, her voice gentle. “Thanks,” Hermione whispered. The next thing Harry heard was Hermione’s footsteps coming his way.

‘What will I say? How can I explain what I was doing without sounding like a bloody sod? I just can’t go and tell her “Hermione, I drank the love potion in Snape’s class and it made me fall in love with you, so I was spying on you on the library and that’s why I fell. Now, let’s go up to your room and start making babies” now, can I?

So Harry did what he thought any other guy would have done in his situation.

He pretended to be asleep.

He could smell her lavender shampoo as he heard her stop walking when she reached his bedside. Harry almost jumped when he felt her delicate hand gently touching his own.

“Oh, Harry. Just what do you think you were doing?” she whispered, her voice sounding both annoyed and worried. It was a tone familiar to Harry, for she had used that same tone of voice countless of times with Ron and Harry.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose when he felt her fingers caress his unruly raven hair, moving it away from his forehead, tickling him slightly. With the tip of her finger, Hermione kindly touched the bump that had formed just over his scar.

“Well, it doesn’t look as bad as it did when you fell…Harry, you scared me half to death!” Hermione said in a whisper. Harry felt as if he was going to explode when he felt her hand on his cheek. She lightly rubbed his cheek with her thumb with a gentleness Harry had never experienced before.

“Harry James Potter. What am I going to do with you? When you are not looking for trouble, trouble’s looking for you,” she said humorously, obviously relieved that her friend was recuperating well. “I got to go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered.

The next thing Harry felt were Hermione’s lips as she gently laid a feather-light kiss on his forehead.

It wasn’t until Hermione’s faded footsteps left the room that Harry dared open his eyes and he exhaled a breath of air he didn’t know he had been holding.

Harry sighed tiredly as he tried to make his necktie look the way it was supposed to. But after five minutes of unsuccessful tries, he finally gave up. It had been a long and restless night, and Madam Pomfrey had allowed him to go back to his quarters 30 minutes ago in order to get ready for a full day of classes.

What Madam Pomfrey didn't know was that Harry would have preferred to stay in bed all day, hiding under the covers to avoid Hermione, Ron, and of course, himself.

His arm and shoulder had healed overnight, and he felt only a tiny prickle of pain when he made sudden movements. Only a small bandage on his forehead remained from last night.

Harry ran a hand thru his unruly black hair, touching the bandaged bump next to his scar roughly, grimacing. He took a moment to look at his reflection in the mirror. One of the glasses in his spectacles was cracked from the fall, but he was so weary that the thought of raising his wand and performing a simple spell tired him out. Also, the crack served to distract from the dark circles under his puffy eyes. He pressed the palm of his hand to his face, feeling the stubble of his chin on his fingers, knowing full well he didn't feel like shaving that morning, for he didn't trust a razor anywhere near his jugular.

'Harry, you look like a bloody bum.'

'How can you even think of competing with someone like Roger Davies?'

"Wait, where did that come from?" Harry whispered, frowning. It was 7:30 in the morning; almost sixteen hours after he had drank the faithful potion in Snape's class. The effects were supposed to have vanished long ago.

Harry heard a sleepy voice mumble, "Err di wha om rom?" He looked away from the mirror and toward Ron's bed. Ron, already fully dressed, was sprawling face first on his unmade bed, apparently unable to let five minutes of waiting for Harry go without seizing the opportunity to sleep.

"Nothing. Let's go. I'm hungry," Harry answered briskly, trying to hide his worry.

'Who knows? Maybe the potion has some side-effects… temporary I'm sure. Yeah, that's it. I'll see her this morning and she won't be anybody else but sweet, reliable, good old Hermione.'

Ron got up from the bed, still half-asleep. Together, they walked in silence toward the Great Hall, Ron looking around the corridors in case Hermione was approaching, and Harry looking down at the floor with his hands on the pockets of his coat.

Ron caught sight of the giggling Lavender and Parvati (what do they have to be so happy about so early in the morning?), a flustered-looking Ginny (what was that girl up to?), a red-faced but beaming Neville (is everybody a morning person but me?), but no sign of Hermione.

Ron stole a worried glance at Harry. There was something different about his friend this morning, and Ron had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with Hermione and the whole potion business. The effects of the Potion #9 should have vanished by now, but Harry's expression right now reminded Ron of the expression he wore when he had found Cedric had beat him to asking Cho for the Yule Ball.

They entered the Great Hall and took their usual seats at the Gryffindor table. Harry hadn't even finished buttering his single slice of toast when he felt a big, warm hand on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder only to find Albus Dumbledore, Hogwart's Headmaster, smiling warmly down at him.

"I trust you are feeling better, Harry? Minerva informed me of what happened last night," Dumbledore said softly, adjusting his spectacles up his crooked nose.

"I am, sir," Harry said curtly, feeling a little uncomfortable with the strange twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes.

Dumbledore nodded, "I trust that, next time you want to reach a book, you will tell Madam Pince about it. I can assure you she can get them down safely, since she was the one that put them where they are in the first place." Harry gulped as he forced a polite smile.

"I will, sir. Thank you," Harry answered. Was it his paranoid imagination at work or did Dumbledore just imply that he didn't believe a word of Ron and Harry's story?

Dumbledore smiled once more and said, "I have to go now. But if you need me, you can reach me in my chambers." He squeezed Harry's shoulder one last time, turned around and started walking away.

"What was that all about?" Ron whispered, puzzled.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Harry said as his eyes followed Dumbledore toward the exit.

Lucky he had been looking at the direction of the doors or he would have missed Hermione coming into the room. And not so surprisingly, she wasn't alone, for Roger was standing next to her, holding her hand in his.

Harry let his slice of toast fall on the plate with a muffled thud; he was not hungry anymore. "What's wrong?" Ron asked, noticing Harry's not-so-subtle change in mood.

"My stomach's not feeling well," Harry said quickly as he tore his eyes away from the happy couple and looked down the table, trying to focus on Dean as the fellow Gryffindor tried explain what football was to a second-year student.

Ron wasn't convinced, and he looked at where Harry had been looking at less than a second ago. He looked up just in time to see Roger kissing Hermione's hand and walking to the Ravenclaw table.

"I think your stomach thing is contagious," Ron grumbled as he did the inconceivable and put down his fork when he still had food on his plate.

Hermione looked over at the Gryffindor table and positively beamed when she saw Harry was already there. Only Ron noticed this, for Harry was too busy pushing his half-eaten piece of toast around the plate.

Harry couldn't stop thinking about the image of Roger holding Hermione's hand. His stomach was in a twist, his head hurt and he was having difficulty breathing. He had to get out of there, and he had to get out of there fast.

'What in bloody hell is wrong with me?'

"Err… I have to go to the little boys room. See you at class," Harry lied, standing up abruptly. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to splash ice-cold water on his face and scream at his reflection on the mirror until he couldn't speak for a week.

But he had only managed to take two steps away from the Gryffindor table when Hermione intercepted him. "Harry!" Hermione squealed excitedly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and giving him such a hug he thought she might bend him in half. In spite of himself, Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Hey Hermione. Nice to see you too," he whispered, hugging her back timidly. The smell of her lavender shampoo hovered around her, and he felt strangely intoxicated by it. But the warm sensation that spread through his body ceased when she pushed him within arm's length and scowled at him.

"Just what do you think you were doing?" she hissed, obviously referring to last night's stunt.

"I was… I was… I was trying to study!" Harry stuttered. Hermione looked at him menacingly, wondering whether it was safe to believe he was capable of something so stupid.

"Come on, Mione! You are always saying how I need to read something else other than Quidditch Thru the Ages, aren't you? Well, you should be proud of me cause I finally listened!" Harry lied, hoping that the "I'm a good kid" smile he had just plastered on his lips was enough to fool her.

Well, it either worked, or she was so happy to see him well that she wasn't going to press the subject… yet. Hermione's expression changed from a scowl into a patient smile. "Well, next time, try not to crack your head open. I can't believe that for you a trip to the library results in more injuries than a Quidditch game," she said softly.

Harry remembered what Ron had told him last night… about how Hermione had ruined her sweater when she used it to try to stop his bleeding. He remembered how the redhead had told him Hermione had been so worried she had cried. Hermione rarely cried. Feelings he didn't know how to identify grew in him.

"Hermione… thanks for taking care of me in the library… Ron told me what happened," Harry said softly, feeling suddenly nervous. He didn't know the reasons why; Hermione had taken care of him plenty of times, and he had been grateful each and everyone of them.

"Don't mention it, Harry… although if you want to buy me a new jumper next time we go to Hogsmeade, I won't say no," Hermione answered with a playful tone.

"Oh, speaking of that," Hermione said, as if she had just remembered something. Again, and without warning, Hermione pulled him toward her, until the length of his body brushed with hers. He gulped hard, and his throat turned suddenly dry.

'What's she doing? Oh, Merlin, is she going to kiss me? YES! I mean, NO! Argh…'
All hope for a kiss faded when she pushed his hair away from his forehead and stared at the bandage on his forehead. Carefully, she lifted it and gazed at the wound underneath it.

"Well, it is almost healed. Just one more day and it will be good as new," she whispered approvingly as she carefully replaced the bandage, or so Harry thought. He could hardly make out her words as he put all his efforts in trying to ignore how her breath gently tickled his skin.

He needed a distraction, and he needed it fast.

Sometimes the universe had a very twisted way of answering his requests.

"Don't tell me this is the first time you notice that hideous scar, Granger? I know muggleborns are thick, but this is a bit too much," Draco Malfoy's drawling voice worked like a cold shower on Harry.

Harry past Hermione's shoulder to see Malfoy's just a few feet away from them, his gorillas, Crabbe and Goyle, flanking him. The blonde was looking at them with the sneer that often led to Harry's fantasies about punching Malfoy's lights out. Ron stood up from the table and took his usual defensive position next to Harry.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron and Harry said simultaneously, ready to fight if it came to that. Hermione placed a soothing hand in Harry's shoulder and the other one on Ron's. With a dramatic fling of her curls, she looked over her shoulder at Malfoy.

"What's your problem, Draco?" Hermione asked, her voice sweet and patient. Malfoy sneered violently; it there was one thing he hated was a mudblood on a first-name basis.

"I don't have a problem. Which is something that cannot be said for you two friends, Potty and the Weasel," he hissed. Harry had never known the word "friends" could be uttered with so much contempt.

Harry flexed his knuckles, but a strange sense of tranquil came over him when he watched the calm expression in Hermione's face as she turned around to face Malfoy.

"Oh, I get it, Draco. You are jealous," Hermione said, putting her best puppy eyes expression on her face, obviously faking feeling sorry for Malfoy. Harry had to stifle a laugh; Malfoy looked as if he was ready to explode.

"Jealous? Of Scarface there? Are you bloody mad?" Malfoy spat, his cronies cracking their knuckles reflexively.

"Not because of the scar, Draco… but because of the fact that I can touch my friends without feeling the need to wash my hands afterwards. Which is something I believe your girlfriend Pansy has not been able to accomplish," Hermione said sharply, matching Malfoy's venom with some poison of her own.

"Filthy little mudblood," Draco hissed, his voice carrying threat in its whisper as he took a step toward Hermione. Harry tensed; he was ready to slam Malfoy's face against the table if he dared to put a finger on his best friend.

Hermione, however, seem completely unfazed, going as far as crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Malfoy with a very threatening look.

"Better to be a filthy little mudblood than a closet Death Eater. Won't you agree, Draco?" Hermione smoothly replied. Harry didn't thought it was possible, but Malfoy looked even redder than before, clenching his fists at his sides.

"Is there something else I can do for you, Draco?" Hermione asked sweetly, giving him another toothy smile. Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but looked at the staff table, where Snape, McGonagall and Hagrid were looking down at them.

Draco knew he had to cool down; he couldn't attract more trouble, not when the wheels had already been put into motion and the dateline for the plan was so near.

"We'll continue this later, Granger," Malfoy hissed at Hermione.

She smiled brightly at him. "Jolly good then. Have a good day, Draco."

No sooner had Malfoy started walking away that the whole Gryffindor broke into applause. Hermione playfully took a bow.

"Blimey, that was awesome," Ron said, patting her shoulder, the pride he felt for his best friend evident in his voice.

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione said, that playful smile still tugging at the corner of her lips. Ron sat down back at the table and started eating, his appetite miraculously restored.

Hermione turned around and, without asking for permission, started doing Harry's tie for him.

Harry had a silly grin on his own face. There was something so personal and hypnotizing in the simple gesture that made Harry's heart beat wildly on his chest.

Hermione finished with the knot and ran her hands over his uniform in an attempt to smooth the wrinkles from his clothes.

The contact of Hermione's hands on his chest, even through the clothing, was enough to send shivers up and down his spine.

This was something he shouldn't even consider exploring.

When Hermione looked up at him, she found Harry with a soft smile on his lips that contrasted sharply with the tiredness in his viridian eyes. Harry kept on smiling down at her, and her curiosity was peaked. "What?" she asked softly.

"That was incredible, Mione… simply incredible," Harry blurted before he had a chance to think. Hermione started laughing, thinking Harry was speaking about what had happened with Malfoy moments before.

Her hands left his body as she reached inside her pocket and pulled out her wand. Without wasting another moment, she pointed her wand between Harry's eyes and said, "Oculus Reparo"

Instantly, the crack on Harry's glasses disappeared, leaving them as good as new. For a second, Harry saw the 10-year-old little know-it-all he had met on his first train ride to Hogwarts.

He remembered he still had to thank Neville and his toad Trevor for bringing Hermione into his life.

Harry realized Hermione was still smiling softly at him. "I'm glad to see you so happy," he said, wondering if there was a particular reason why Hermione was in such a good mood that morning.

"Thanks, Harry. I'm just so happy to see you doing better that I wasn't about to let that ferret ruin my morning," Hermione said, tucking the wand back into her pocket.

'I am! I'm the reason she's happy!'
Harry felt energized, and he even started thinking about eating a bit more for breakfast so as to spend time with Hermione.

But that vanished when he saw an arm draped itself over Hermione's shoulder.

'I guess I'm not the reason after all.'

He forced himself to continue smiling as he watched Roger plant a kiss on Hermione's cheek.

"You were unbelievable, Hermione," Roger said, flashing a bright smile. Harry felt the urge to see how Roger's smile would look if he knocked all of Roger's teeth out.

"Thanks," Hermione said, her demeanor strangely shy.

'Is she blushing? She is, dammit! Oh, why do I even care? This is none of my business!'

"Hello, Harry. Glad to see you are looking better than you did last night," Roger said as he turned his attention to Harry. Only Ron noticed how truly strained Harry's smile was as Harry nodded politely at Roger and said a simple hello.

"Well, let's go, Hermione. I'll walk you to your lesson," Roger said confidently as he turned his attention back to the girl standing between Harry and himself.

"She hasn't eaten breakfast!" both Ron and Harry said between clenched teeth. Hermione, who apparently didn't notice the effect the Head Boy seemed to have on her two best friends, smiled at Roger.

"You know what? I'm not that hungry to begin with. I think I'll skip breakfast," Hermione replied.

Roger, playing the part of the perfect gentleman, grabbed Hermione's books and nodded at Harry and Ron. "We'll see you later," he said with an irritating smile before turning around.

"See you in class, guys," Hermione added as she turned around and started walking to the Great Hall's doors, Roger's arm still around her shoulders, leaving Harry slack-jawed and Ron so mad you could practically see the smoke coming from his ears.

"WE'LL see you later'. WE? Since when are they a WE?" Ron snapped, the expression on his face indicating that he wanted to choke Roger till his lips were blue.

Harry couldn't answer, for he didn't trust his mouth was capable of producing any sounds.

Getting no reply from Harry, Ron turned to look at his best friend to get an opinion about Roger and Hermione.

He was stunned by what he saw. The expression in Harry's face was nothing like Ron's. It was something that could only be described as sheer panic.

"Are you okay, mate?" Ron asked, worriedly. Harry looked paler than he had looked in the hospital last night. Again, Harry didn't answer, but continued looking at the spot where a few moments ago Roger and Hermione had disappeared.

"Harry, you are scaring me. What's wrong?" Ron said, looking around the hall to see if Harry had spotted some danger that no one else knew about.

Harry suddenly turned around and grabbed Ron's arm forcefully. "Ouch! What?" Ron frowned.

"If I tell you something important… do you promise not to laugh? Do you promise to help me out of this mess?" Harry asked bluntly. Ron now looked as scared as Harry felt.

"I do. Now, what's wrong?" Ron said, pulling his arm from Harry's iron grip.

"The potion is still working. I am still in love with Hermione. And I need to find an antidote NOW!" Harry blurted.

Ron broke his promise immediately by laughing in Harry's face.

12:05 PM

Ron rubbed his still sore arm in the exact spot where Harry had hit him for breaking his promise of not laughing at the situation. The truth was that Ron hadn’t realized that what he found amusing and great-luck, Harry found it to be something absolutely, positively disastrous.

So, he had tried to calm Harry by telling him he was going to help him find an antidote to the Potion No. 9’s effect. But, to be honest, he didn’t believe what Harry was feeling was entirely due to the potion. After all, it would be an incredible coincidence if Ron, who had never made a potion that worked, would actually make a potion that not even the great potion-makers could make permanent.

“You have to eat something. You didn’t have anything for breakfast,” Ron said to Harry as he dragged the other guy toward the Great Hall, the morning classes already behind them. “I’m not hungry,” Harry said absently. Ron was famished since in the morning he hadn’t eaten half of what constituted a normal breakfast for him, but Harry… Harry looked as if someone had told him his puppy had been run over by a car.

Harry had hardly spoken during their classes. Since Roger had developed the annoying habit of walking Hermione to every single class, Ron had the opportunity to ask Harry what was wrong while they were walking from History of Magic.

“You know what’s wrong,” Harry had whispered at Ron’s incessant badgering. Harry had looked up from the floor and sighed, his face darker than it had been a second ago. Ron looked at what Harry was looking to find Hermione and Roger 20-feet away from them. Hermione was talking animatedly to Roger about the lesson and Roger pretended to listen as he tightened the hold on Hermione’s waist.

“Oh, that… I forgot,” Ron said quickly, lowering his gaze. Ron had trouble thinking that something he had waited to happen for at least three years was turning into such a disaster. “Um… Harry… maybe… maybe you should try avoiding her… you know? Until we can find an antidote… just don’t make her feel bad,” Ron offered.

“Try avoiding her? She’s doing a pretty good job avoiding us,” Harry mumbled. “She’s not doing it on purpose, Harry… is just that damn Roger,” Ron interjected, trying to defend his other best friend.

“You know what?” Harry said, more energetic that he had sounded before. Ron looked up at him; Harry was not feeling better… he was feeling bitter. “I think Roger knows… I think he knows exactly how I feel for Hermione and he’s rubbing it in my face,” Harry said matter-of-factly.

Ron was surprised, but not because of the reasons Harry thought. “Err… mate?” Ron asked tentatively. They had stopped near the entrance of the castle, just in front of the great hall. Harry had followed with his gaze as Roger had led Hermione out of the castle and were now walking on the grounds toward the lake.

“Harry!” Ron pressed. This time, he got his friend’s attention. “What?” Harry finally replied. “You said Roger knew exactly how YOU feel for Hermione… YOU!” Ron explained. Harry realized his mistake immediately.

“I mean, the potion. What the potion makes me think I feel for Hermione,” Harry said, quicker than a speeding bullet. Before Ron could ask anything else, a delicate hand was intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Hey, Luna,” Ron said, quickly forgetting about Harry, Hermione and the whole potion business as he looked at the girl standing next to him. She had grown in the last two years until she was no longer a little girl, but a full-bodied and beautiful woman with long blonde hair and the most amazing blue eyes Ron had ever seen.

“Hello, Ron,” Luna said as Ron kissed her cheek. Harry sighed, looking the other way; the last thing he needed was another pair of lovebirds rubbing their happiness in his face.

“Hi, Harry. How are you feeling?” Luna asked. Harry was always amazed about how dreamily her voice sounded even when she was talking about totally ordinary things. “I’m… okay,” Harry forced a smile.

“Hon, what’s for lunch?” Ron asked Luna. His stomach had been growling for the last three hours. “I don’t know. I’m waiting for you. Remember? We were going to have lunch together,” Luna explained.

“Oh, right,” Ron looked at Harry apologetically, “Harry, you want to come with us?” Ron looked livid; he hadn’t expected to leave Harry alone in the condition he was in.

“Don’t worry about it, Ron. I’m not that hungry. I think I’ll go and start my Potion’s essay,” Harry said quickly. He knew Ron didn’t want to leave him by himself, but he also knew the last thing he needed right now was to be a third wheel.

“I’ll see you later. Nice to see you, Luna,” Harry said quickly and before Luna or Ron could tell him it was okay for him to join them, he sprinted down the hall with no destination in mind other than to get away from all of them.

He walked and walked until his feet started hurting, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. When he looked up, he found himself a few meters away from the entrance to the Astronomy Tower, being yelled at by a frustrated painting of Sir Cadogan challenging him to a duel.

“Not now,” Harry said absently as he started going up the stairs. It seemed like he couldn’t get away fast enough from all of them. By the time he reached the top of the tower he was breathless, and his body ached from the exertion and the lack of food.

But he felt so happy and carefree when he felt the wind blowing over him, cleansing, refreshing. He put his arms to the side as if he were a bird, his cloak billowing behind him loudly. He closed his eyes and willed himself to fly away from here, but when he opened his eyes, he was still on the top of the astronomy tower, his arms to his side like a kid who thought of himself as Superman.

Harry lowered his arms and walked to the edge. Making sure no one was looking up, he did what he had wanted to do since he first step foot on the Astronomy Tower. He pushed himself off the railing and sat on the ledge, looking down.

Hogwarts was indeed beautiful this time of year. Autumn was already in full steam; the leaves in the trees were dressed in orange and brown, and the air smelled of warmth and change. It would have been very relaxing scenery if Harry wouldn’t have had other things in his mind.

Harry found Hermione on the grounds as soon as he started looking for her. She was sitting next to Roger under the shade of a tree. Harry may not have had a great sense of direction for things other than Quidditch, but he knew that tree was THEIR tree, the one under which Ron, Hermione and himself had spent countless of hours during their time at Hogwarts.

He knew it was wrong to feel like this, but he couldn’t help but hate Roger at that moment. Roger was an intruder in their world, and he was slowly but surely taking Hermione away from Ron and Harry.

‘Wait… why am thinking this way? It’s not like she’s going to desert us! We will always be together. Won’t we? Besides, I didn’t have a problem when Ron started dating Luna… I never thought Luna was going to take him away from us. I didn’t followed him around and spied on him… I never wanted to punch Luna’s lights out…’

Just then he remembered what was different as he felt a surge of anger while watching Roger wipe something from Hermione’s cheek.

‘Damn it, Harry! Hermione was right. When you are not looking for trouble, trouble comes to you. Why did you have to complicate things with that damn potion? As if you didn’t have enough problems already, you had to go and do something that may endanger the best thing you’d ever had.’

He looked down at the tree. Hermione seemed to be listening to Roger as she bit on a red apple, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the tree trunk. The last time Harry had been under that tree, he was the one that had been leaning against the tree trunk, and Hermione had been resting her head on his shoulder as they looked at Ron ranting to Luna about his last potion’s lesson.

Hardly a week had passed, and yet to Harry it seemed like a lifetime.

‘You have to stay away from her, mate. You can’t risk hurting her… you know you have quite a temper. Remember during your fifth year? When Hermione tried to stop you again and again from going to the Department of Mysteries and you, again and again, snapped at her, pushing all your anger and frustration into one of the few people that was actually on your side? If only you would have listened to her… Sirius would still be alive.’

His chest tightened so bad he was momentarily breathless. Why had he thought of Sirius now? He had spent the entire summer after his fifth year blaming himself for what happened, and it had been a very dark time. How couldn’t it be? After all, his godfather had given up his own life for Harry’s.

But if there was something that pulled him out of that depression was the fact that Hermione and Ron were there for him. And now, thinking he might do something that would just make him lose that forever… well, it felt like he was going insane.

So Harry ran down the tower and to his next lesson with only one course of action in mind… find an antidote as soon as possible and stay away from Hermione until then. That seemed like a plan that will leave his sanity intact.

***********

Later…

Transfiguration Lesson

“Mr. Weasley, could you be quiet? I’m trying to teach a lesson here,” Prof. Minerva McGonagall said, her thin lips pursed as she glared down at Ron. Ron had been trying for the last part of the hour to get Harry to talk to him, but Harry just sat in the stool and looked down at the desk, his eyes filled with sadness.

“Sorry, Professor,” Ron said apologetically. No sooner had McGonagall turned around that Ron whispered to Harry, “See, now you’ve got me in trouble!” “It’s not my fault you don’t shut up! I told you, I’m fine!” Harry whispered back, his face angry and impatient.

The fact that he had hardly slept last night and that he hadn’t had any food since he ate half a slice of toast this morning seemed to have caught up to Harry. He felt exhausted, even downright dizzy. Hermione had been looking at him worriedly throughout the lesson, but he had avoided meeting her gaze. When Hermione gave Ron a questioning look, Ron just shrugged. He had one suspicion about what was wrong with Harry and, if he shared it with Hermione, he was sure Harry would kill him.

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose sleepily, closing his eyes. He was so tired, and his head ached so much that he didn’t even heard McGonagall’s voice as she went on explaining about the effects of transfiguring a living creature with highly cognitive abilities.

-----------------

Everything became dark, until a gray mist rose around him. It seemed to swirling around slowly, but it regained speed around Harry, until he was shivering from the cold. He hugged himself protectively, looking for a way out. But there was none… the swirling mist surrounded him completely. And now, the wind was so strong Harry could hardly keep his eyes open, and the cold sting his exposed skin.

He felt something touch his leg… and then his arm… his chest… his cheek. It felt as cold as ice and as sharp as cut glass. He forced himself to open his eyes and gasped at the sight. There were hands, ghastly and horrifying, appearing in the mist, trying to grab and claw Harry.

Harry took a few steps back, but stopped when he felt one of those hands wrapped itself around his neck. It tightened until Harry’s lungs burned from lack of oxygen and his vision darkened. And then, Harry heard it… those voices… cold, slithery and in perfect unison… The voice was coming from the mist that surrounded him.

“Your time is up”.

-----------------

“HARRY! HARRY! HARRY!”

Harry put a hand to his forehead and winced. He had a sharp pain in the back of his head, and someone seemed to be screaming at him. He opened his eyes, and the light blinded him temporarily. As his eyes slowly adjusted themselves, Harry saw the concerned faces of Ron, Hermione and McGonagall hovering over him.

“What… what’s wrong? What happened?” Harry said groggily. He was surprised when he realized he was laid on the floor, a few feet away from his desk.

“You… you started screaming! And… the stool toppled… you fell. Are you okay, mate?” Ron said, his red freckles even more noticeable on his pale face. “What happened, Mr. Potter?” McGonagall asked as Ron, Hermione and Seamus helped Harry to stand up, her voice full of concern and worry.

Harry raked his brain. What the hell had happened? Well, he knew he had fallen asleep… so that must have been a nightmare. What had he dreamt about? He hardly could remember… he only remember it had been cold… so cold.

“I… I fell asleep, Professor. I apologize. May I be excused?” Harry said apologetically. He looked around the classroom; those closest to him looked scared. Harry knew the reason why… the last outburst of this type Harry had experienced was when Voldemort was using him to get to the Prophecy.

“Certainly, Mr. Potter. I know you’ve had a rough night. But I have to ask you to go to Madam Pomfrey before you go to your room,” Prof. McGonagall instructed as she watched Harry wince when Hermione gently touched the back of his head.

Harry wanted to get out of there as fast as possible, so he quickly agreed. He gathered his books and left the classroom in a hurry, leaving a very worried Hermione and Ron back, wondering what the hell had just happened to their best friend.

As tempting as it was to go straight into the library to start in his search for an antidote, Harry decided to be true to his word and visit Madam Pomfrey. The older woman had a mix of fury and motherly concern on her face as she checked the back of Harry’s head.

“Mr. Potter, you have to be more careful! You are even more prone to injury than Mr. Longbottom!” Madam Pomfrey said as she handed him a vial of white liquid. “Now, take this tonight. It will help you sleep,” she instructed him.

“Thanks, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said politely, thankful that Madam Pomfrey was a nurse and not a psychiatrist, for if she had been Harry was sure he would be in his way to the loony bin right now.

He walked briskly toward the Gryffindor common room, ignoring the growing stabs of pain in the back of his head and trying to concentrate on having a shower and a quick bite before going to the library to start his search. But his thoughts quickly diverted from their goal when he saw Hermione running towards him.

“Are you alright? What happened back there?” Hermione whispered, her lovely chocolate eyes full of worry. “I am fine, Hermione. It’s just a bump,” Harry said slowly. He was edgy, for once again she had leaned her weight against his body as she checked him for any sign of injury. When she was satisfied he had none, she looked him straight in the eyes.

“Harry, what’s going on?” Hermione asked. “I told you. I fell asleep, had a nightmare, the stool was wobbly, so I fell and bumped my head,” Harry said, as casually as possible under the circumstances. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about how crazy you’ve been acting since yesterday,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

‘She doesn’t know. Does she?’

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Hermione. I’m the same Harry I’ve always been” Harry said. “Don’t you lie to me! I KNOW YOU! I know there’s something wrong with you… and, as always, you are shutting me out! I am your friend, Harry. Let me help you!” she said softly, her voice small and concern.

“Hermione, I don’t need your help. Everything is fine,” Harry said softly. He started walking away. Hermione, however, caught up with him, and Harry was surprised when he felt her hand on his arm pulling him to a stop and forcing him to turn around and look at her.

“Then why have you been ignoring me all day?” Hermione said. Harry looked at those chocolate eyes to find not concern there… but anger. That wasn’t his intention. In fact, his only intention was to stay away from her so as not to hurt her.

“You are imagining things,” Harry retorted a little more harshly than he had wanted. She was taken back momentarily, but then her anger returned full blast. “Imagining things! How can you say that with a straight face! You’ve been ignoring me all day! I’m worried for you and that’s what I get in return. A BLOODY COLD SHOULDER!” Hermione snapped. Now, it was Harry’s turn to be taken back. She had never raise her voice at him before.

‘Wait… she’s the one that’s giving you a cold shoulder. At breakfast, at lunch… during classes… she’s the one that has been running off to with that slobbering little git! Not you!’

And once more, Harry’s infamous short temper came back full blast.

“I’ve been ignoring you? I’ve been the one who’s giving you a cold shoulder? You are the one who’s been snogging Roger all day! You are the one who’s been giving Ron and I a cold shoulder!” he said, matching her bitterness with his own as his mouth contorted on a sneer worthy of Malfoy himself.

Hermione’s face was so red she could have been an honorary Weasley.

“ ‘Snogging Roger’, eh? Is that what this is about? About Ron and yours dislike for Roger?” Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest, her nails digging into her arms. Harry’s sneer dropped like an anvil. How did she know how he felt toward Roger?

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know you two well enough to know what you think of Roger. He’s actually a good guy, you know. You guys should get to know him,” Hermione said, some of her anger ebbing away.

“Maybe some other time,” he whispered, looking at his feet with renewed interest, the anger he had felt toward her a moment ago now directed at him. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Harry heard Hermione sigh in defeat.

“Fine. You don’t want to talk about it now, that’s fine. But remember,” Hermione said, standing closer to Harry than before and putting her hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t angry anymore… she just felt downright helpless.

“When you are ready to talk about whatever is bothering you, I’ll be here to listen,” Hermione finished. She rose on tiptoe and planted a gentle kiss in Harry’s cheek. Without another word, she walked away, leaving a very mortified Harry behind.

After he trusted his legs to obey him, Harry walked straight into the Gryffindor common room, his desire to go to the library and work completely squashed. When he reached his dormitory, he carefully placed the vial of sleeping fluid Madam Pomfrey had given him on his night table and fell into bed, still with his uniform and shoes on.

Praying for sleep to find him, it was Ron who found Harry first. “Hey, mate. What happened?” Ron asked worriedly as he threw his books on the bed and started taking off his shirt. “Nothing” Harry mumbled against the pillow.

“Don’t give me that. There’s something wrong with you… aside from the obvious, that is,” Ron said, changing into a t-shirt before going to the Great Hall for dinner. “Not you too,” Harry grumbled.

“Who else has been asking?” Ron asked casually, suspecting full well the answer. “You know who…” Harry answered tiredly as his eyes closed.

“Really? When did you speak to her? I know she left Transfiguration in a hurry, but she didn’t tell me where she was going,” Ron continued prodding. Harry sighed; he wasn’t going to get any rest until Ron’s curiosity was satisfied.

So Harry sat on the bed and proceeded to tell Ron all about his latest conversation with Hermione. When he had finished, Harry noticed Ron’s ears were slightly more pink than usual.

“What?” Harry asked. “She was right, you know. You have been avoiding her all day,” Ron said matter-of-factly. “I know I have. But you know the reason why. So don’t try to make me feel guilty about it, okay?” Harry said, hoping for a little support from the only person who knew of Harry’s predicament.

He found none. “And what you said about her and Roger snogging… that was really mean!” Ron added. “I KNOW! I FEEL BAD ENOUGH ALREADY! SO QUIT IT!” Harry snapped. He seemed to be doing that a lot… is that what grownups were supposed to do?

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. He suddenly felt extra weight on his bed and opened his eyes. Ron had sat on the edge of the bed next to him, and was now looking out the window, his arms crossed over his chest in a pose that reminded Harry of Ron’s father, Arthur.

“You know what?” Ron spoke out of nowhere. He heard Harry grunt against the pillow, and he assumed the green-eyed boy had just said, “What?”

“You remind me of a dog.”

“A DOG?” Harry said as he sat up in bed, startled by the undignified comparison.

“Yeah… you know how they get when there’s another dog sniffing around their territory, don’t you?” Ron asked Harry. Harry’s experiences with dogs were limited to having to clean dog poo from the bottom of Dudley’s shoes when Aunt Petunia had ordered him to.

“I’m not following you,” Harry mumbled tiredly. “They start pissing, Harry. Yeah, they piss around everything they consider theirs so other dogs won’t dare to break into their territory. Yeah… they piss on the lawn, on their owners clothing, on the carpet, on the…” Ron continued, when Harry interrupted him by saying, “WHAT’s the point of this Ron?”

“The point is,” Ron got up from Harry’s bed and started walking out the dormitory, “that you need to stop being a dog around Hermione, cause you are hurting her. She’s not your territory, Harry. And if you truly care for her, remember you are human. You can talk to her and tell her how you feel.”

Standing on the doorframe, Ron said without looking back at Harry, “I’m going to eat something. If you want, we can work on the antidote when I’m back.” And, without giving Harry the opportunity to make up any excuses, Ron left.

Harry was left alone with his thoughts, his guilt, and most of all, with one horrible headache.

“Way to go, Harry Potter. Way to go.”

And with his last waking thought wandering to a certain brown-haired Gryffindor witch, Harry finally fell asleep.

Harry didn't know how much time he had slept, but by the time he opened his emerald green eyes he realized it was already pitch black outside, and his stomach was growling louder than ever.

His headache had subsided somewhat, but it wasn't enough to stifle the groan that escaped from his lips as he forced his sore body out of bed. None of his roommates were in, so Harry didn't think twice about taking off his shoes, shedding his school uniform, and walking to the showers clad only in a towel.

He jumped into first empty stall and turned it on, letting the scalding hot fluid travel down his head and back. He closed his eyes and released a trembling sigh. He felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

Now, not only was Hermione mad at him, but he had also managed to piss off Ron, the only person that could help him with his problem.

Harry stayed under the faucet for what seemed like hours, the steam rising around him while he massaged the back of his neck. The pain the scorching liquid caused on his body had a strangely calming effect. It distracted him from the bigger problems he has facing.

Without realizing what he was doing, Harry absently mumbled the lyrics of a song he had heard this summer that seemed to describe his current predicament with an almost prophetic likeness. If this was how it felt to be in love… well, Harry could only reach one conclusion.

Being in love… sucked.

Harry considered the possibility of avoiding his friends. Recognizing how ridiculous the idea truly was, Harry finally stepped out of the shower, dried off and walked back to his room. Quickly dressing in second-hand jeans (courtesy of his cousin Dudley) and a comfortable sweater Mrs. Weasley knitted for him last Christmas, Harry finally put on his eyeglasses and walked down the stairs.

He already knew luck was not really on his side, so he wasn't shocked when the first people he saw as he walked down the stairs were Hermione and Ron. Ron had his potion book and a half-a-dozen discarded sheets of parchment on the table, biting his lip in concentration at what Harry assumed was Snape's homework.

Crookshanks, Hermione's magical ginger cat, was sleeping on the rug in front of the fireplace. Harry often teased Hermione about her cat being lazier than he and Ron combined. But if there was something special about that cat, it was that Crookshanks seemed to posses the ability to read other people's emotions.

Harry wanted to stay out of the cat's way, because he was sure Crookshanks would try to claw his eyes off if he came anywhere near him for what he did to Hermione earlier.

Hermione was sitting on her favorite chair next to the Gryffindor fireplace. She had the History of Magic course book on her lap, her legs tucked under her body, her head resting on her right hand. She was wearing worn out green sweatpants that barely reached her hips, and a gray tank top that was too tight for Harry's comfort.

Seamus, who was doing homework on the chair opposite Ron, was the only one who looked up when he heard footsteps coming down the steps. "Hello, sleeping beauty!" Seamus kidded, bringing both Ron and Hermione's attention to the young man that had just reached the bottom landing.

"You feel better?" asked Ron, his voice businesslike as he went back to his homework.

"A bit," Harry answered softly, greeting Hermione with a nod. For a second there, he thought he saw Hermione's expression soften, but the relief soon vanished as she nodded back at him and quickly went back to her book without saying a word.

Harry took a seat next to Ron and looked up at the common room's grandfather's clock. "9:14," he mumbled.

"What are you doing?" he quickly asked Ron, who was cursing under his breath as he made another ball of his latest parchment and threw it across the table.

"The History of Magic essay… Dark Arts and World War II," Ron groaned as he took another clean parchment and started again with his essay.

"I forgot about that" Harry mumbled. Between the potion problem and the weird dreams he has experimenting, his usually weak interest in schoolwork was down to none.

Harry realized it was now too late to go to the library and start his search for the antidote. It was better to start with his assignment, since he almost failed the last History of Magic test.

"I better start," Harry said tiredly as he reached for his own bag, which he had discarded on the table earlier that day, and opened it. He was in for a surprise. There was a small paper bag inside, and he didn't remember putting it in.

"What's this?" he said as he took the paper bag out and opened it. His mouth hung open when he noticed two banana muffins and two chocolate muffins inside, along with a glass of hot chocolate in a small mug.

"Oh, that… you really should eat something," Ron said casually when he spotted the paper bag.

"Thanks," Harry said, truly grateful, not wasting another second as he gleefully bit into a chocolate muffin.

He almost choked on his muffin when Ron added, "Don't thank me. It was not my idea." Ron didn't need to offer any more information.

'Hermione'

Harry looked up from the table in time to see Hermione looking at him. Both of them looked away, trying to hide their embarrassment as Harry focused on his muffin while Hermione's eyes landed on her book.

Harry felt like the biggest prat in the world. Hermione was angry with him; there was no doubting that. But that didn't stop her from worrying for his wellbeing.

"T-Thanks, Hermione," he said sheepishly.

Hermione mumbled something like "Don't' worry…not a big deal", but without taking her eyes from the comfort her book provided.

Harry forced himself to look away from Hermione, and used the opportunity to offer a muffin to Ron, "You want one?"

"No thanks," Ron said quickly, once again avoiding looking at Harry. If Harry had any lingering doubts that Ron was still mad at him for what he did to Hermione, they were quickly dissipated. The Ron he knew will never pass an opportunity for free food.

Harry quickly took one of the discarded pieces of parchment and speedily wrote, "I'm sorry, mate." Passing the note to Ron, he took another bite of his muffin before he heard Ron sigh wearily.

"It's okay. Just… don't let it happen again," Ron whispered with a small smile, patting Harry's shoulder as he finally looked up at his friend.

"How's she doing?" Harry whispered, signaling toward Hermione with his finger.

"She's angrier than a banshee. Why do you think I haven't asked her for help? I'm afraid she'll pummel me," Ron replied as Harry looked at Hermione over Ron's shoulder.

"I really screwed up, didn't I?" Harry said apologetically.

"Big time. Now, where's my muffin?" Ron asked. Harry managed to smile as he threw him one of the banana muffins ('There's no such thing as too much chocolate') and was ready to start with his essay when Seamus interrupted him.

"Hey, Harry… what happened to you in Transfiguration?" Seamus asked.

Harry cast a furtive look at Hermione, noticing how her shoulder had stiffened visibly, even while she was still pretending to read.

"I… I… fell asleep. Had a nightmare," Harry answered, forcing himself to look at Seamus.

"Must have been some nightmare, mate. You were screaming like a girl," Seamus said, shaking his head.

"You would scream too if you had dreamt you had just married Millicent Bullstrode," Harry lied, trying to make light of the situation.

The truth was that Harry hardly remembered the nightmare except for the feeling of cold numbness that had spread on his limbs.

Harry strategy worked, as evidenced by Seamus laugh as Hermione sighed in defeat. "I believe me would have," the Irish boy said as he went back to his quill and parchment.

Harry was about to start on his own assignment when the door to the Common Room opened and Ginny came walking inside.

Well, maybe "walking" was not the right term. She was waltzing… floating actually. She had a mischievous smile on her freckled face. She was even blushing as she hummed a song under her breath. She sat on the high back chair that was next to Hermione's and propped her legs on the center table, twirling a strand of her red hair between her fingers.

Ron and Harry were raising questioning eyebrows at Ginny. Ron was the first one to inquire as to Ginny's strange behavior, "You are obviously in a jolly mood. What's up?"

Ginny smiled conspiratorially at Hermione and said, "Nothing. I just enjoyed a very relaxing walk around the lake. Hogwarts is beautiful this time of year."

"What's so good about that?" Ron asked bitterly, remembering that the last time he had taken a stroll around the lake with Luna, the squid had decided to come out and play, and it did… by wrapping a tentacle around Ron's leg and pulling him into the water.

Ginny giggled, remembering a very angry and very wet Ron walking into the common room that night. Hermione was the one to answer Ron as she said, "She wasn't alone, Ron. That's why she's so happy."

As it usually happened when he heard those types of news concerning his only sister, Ron was as territorial as a lion guarding his pride.

"Who… is… he?" he asked between clenched teeth. Harry knew that if he didn't take the quill out of Ron's hand, the redhead would break it in half.

Ginny giggled, winking at Hermione, who obviously knew the answer. "My lips are sealed, big brother," Ginny answered enigmatically, grinning cheekily at the other Weasley in the room.

Just then, the door to the common room opened again, and Neville Longbottom stepped inside. His clothes were a little disheveled and there were a few pieces of grass in his hair, as if he had just been rolling and tumbling on the school grounds. And his face… he was positively beaming.

Not noticing the presence of Harry, Ron and Seamus by the table, Neville sat on the chair next to Ginny's. "Here, I got this for you…" he said, as he gave her a bar of expensive Honeydukes chocolate.

"Thank you, Neville," Ginny said, taking him by the arm, leaning toward him and giving him a very innocent peck on the lips.

Harry wasn't that surprised by what he had just seen. After all, Neville had always had a soft spot for the youngest Weasley, and since last year he had become more relaxed, more self-assured, and, according to Parvati and Lavender, more "doable".

Ron, who had by now bended his quill beyond recognition, said between clenched teeth, "Hello, Neville." Neville looked at the table, and he went as pale as if Snape himself was standing in front of him.

To be honest, Snape would have been looking at Neville with more sympathy than Ron.

"E… I… Hello, Ron…" Neville stuttered, avoiding Ron's gaze. A very uncomfortable silence followed. Even Seamus noticed, quickly gathering his things and making a swift exit to his dormitory before the Wrath of the Big Brother was unleashed.

"Neville, can you bring me some pumpkin juice from the kitchens? The walk around the lake has left me a little parched," Ginny said in a sweet voice as she put her hand on Neville's arm.

"A… I… yes, sure. I'll be right back," Neville stammered, managing to smile at Ginny before getting up and leaving the common room. Ginny's smile faded when her eyes fell on Ron.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" she hissed at her brother, getting up from her chair and taking two steps toward him. She towered over him, her hands on her hips, the blush of her cheeks matching her hair.

The resemblance with Molly Weasley was undeniable.

"Neville? THE NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM?" Ron asked as he stood up in front of her, his voice full of shock and disbelief.

Ginny scoffed at him, "Yes, Ron. If you must know, I am dating THE Neville Longbottom."

Ron didn't look angry anymore; he just looked so surprised he was having problems with his English skills. "But… but he's so… so not like you…" Ron finally stammered. Harry and Hermione groaned as they watched Ginny debut a new shade of red.

"Just WHAT is THAT supposed to mean, Ronald Weasley?" she hissed, her voice dangerously low. Even Ron, who was a good foot taller than his sister, looked intimidated.

"I… I didn't mean… is just… is NEVILLE! He's so… so… absentminded… and… just… different… I don't mean anything bad," Ron said apologetically.

The expression in Ron's face knocked some of the anger out of Ginny, but she still crossed her arms over her chest and said, "I will admit he's different than I am. But what can I say? Opposites attract. Besides, what's not to like? He's gentle, polite, courageous… and he makes me feel special."

Ron didn't know how to reply to that, and Ginny just sighed, making her way back to the seat she had previously occupied.

Hermione looked at Ron and shook her head while saying, "I don't know how you didn't notice Ron. They've been going out for months."

Ron gasped and looked at Ginny, his eyes wide. "Months? MONTHS?" he blurted.

"Yes… months… And I don't get what your problem is, Ron…I thought you liked Neville…" Ginny replied. This time, Ron actually seemed to think about what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

After a few seconds, he replied, "I do like Neville." Harry smiled slightly; Ron had finally not put the proverbial foot on his mouth when it came to his little sister.

But it was a short-lived celebration, for the next words that came out of Ron's mouth were "Neville's just so different from Michael and… Timothy… and Zachariah… and Dean… and… "

Harry resisted the urge to kick his friend as Hermione shook her head from her seat. Ron definitively hadn't developed the ability to know when to shut up.

"Are you implying that I'm a slut, Ronald?" Ginny interrupted him before he could finish the dreaded dating history list, arching her eyebrow dangerously at him. The way she was looking at him made him realize he was very close to getting his arse kicked.

In his defense, Ron looked utterly livid when he realized what he had implied. "No, Ginny… I… It's just… I'm just confused… cause… I… don't know… I just never thought it was possible," Ron mumbled, mortified.

"That what was possible?" Ginny said, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"That you would date someone so… so right for you," Ron whispered. Ginny's scowl turned into beaming smile.

"That's one of the sweetest things you've ever said to me, Ron" she said.

"I'm sorry for snapping at Neville… It's just… why didn't you tell me?" Ron quickly asked. It was her turn to look embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Ron. It's… well…you guys always overreact… Remember when I had Zachariah over for dinner one night? He spent the next two days in St. Mungo's after you, Charlie and the twins, decided to 'play' Quidditch with him. I guess I didn't want anything to happen to Neville till I was sure of what I felt for him," she explained.

"I'm sure it will be different with Neville. The difference between Zachariah and him is that we actually like Neville," Ron alleged. Ginny quickly got up from her chair and strode toward Ron, grabbing him by the arms and planting a very wet kiss on his cheek, leaving him red-faced.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist the urge to kiss your ugly mug," Ginny said, leaving an utterly embarrassed Ron in her wake. She walked back toward her chair and plopped down dramatically.

Ron sat down in front of the table, mumbling something like "why in public?" as he tried to straighten his quill.

Seeing the fight between the siblings had ended (and had gone a lot better than both Harry and Hermione had expected), Hermione tore her attention away from her book (or from Harry, depending on the angle you were looking at her from) and smiled at Ginny as she asked, "So, why are you so happy? Did Neville proposed?"

Harry had to clasp his hand on Ron's mouth before the redhead could make an ass out of himself… again. "Hermione's joking," he whispered, feeling Ron relax under his grip.

Ginny stuck her tongue at Hermione before replying, "We were just talking about the costumes for the Halloween Ball. We decided we wanted them to match."

Harry groaned.

'I forgot all about the stupid Halloween Ball…'

Harry stole a glance at Hermione over Ron's shoulder, remembering the brown-haired girl will be walking to the ball on Roger Davies' arm. As it had happened over the last two days, the thought of Roger made Harry's bile rise like the tide.

Ginny smiled wickedly and turned to Ron, saying, "By the way, Luna told me all about your costumes, Ron. I can't wait to see you on Friday, big brother." Ron's ears were so red Harry could feel the heat coming from them.

"Care to elaborate?" Hermione grinned, turning around to face Ron. (And deliberately avoiding my eyes!)

Ron mumbled something that sounded like, "Don't make fun of me. I had no choice."

"Ron, try to relax. I'm just teasing. To tell you the truth, I think is very sweet of you," Ginny said. She then turned her attention to the not-very talkative boy next to Ron.

"So Harry… who's the lucky lady?" Ginny asked, winking at Harry.

"Lucky lady?" Harry asked, too busy thinking about how it would feel to use Roger's head as a quaffle to capture the meaning of her words.

"Yes, Harry. Lucky lady! Your date for the ball?" Ginny added.

"I'm… not sure…" answered Harry, returning his attention to the empty parchment in front of him and praying that Ginny would change the subject.

The truth was…

'I thought I was going with Hermione. Why didn't I ask her? I never even thought of asking her… I just assumed she wouldn't have a date, and since Ron would be busy with Luna, I just thought we were going to go together. Why did I do that? Why did I assume no one else would ask her?'

Harry raised his eyes to steal a glance at her.

'After all… she's beautiful… she's fun… she's kind… why did I take for granted she would automatically be there… with me? Why do I always assume she's going to take care of me?'

When Harry looked away, he noticed Ginny was frowning at him. "Don't tell me you haven't asked anybody yet?" she chastised him.

When Harry didn't reply, Ginny just sighed and said, "Seriously Harry. I thought you would have learned your lesson by now. Don't you realize that the girl of your dreams could be right in front of you? That you might lose her because you were too slow to do anything about it?"

Harry resisted the urge to scream.

'Ginny doesn't know about the potion. Does she?'

"Whatever, Gin," Harry mumbled, forcing his eyes to focus on the piece of paper and the quill in his hand. He was so distracted that he wrote Ron's name at the top of his page by mistake.

'I already lost her.'

Harry crumpled the parchment and threw it on the pile Ron had already accumulated. Grunting, he picked a new sheet and wrote his name on the top.

'You didn't lose her! You don't love Hermione that way! It's the potion speaking! Argh, this is stupid! I should be looking for an antidote in the library right now, not doing homework… Why didn't I listen to Hermione and wrote this Sunday?'

"What about you, Mione?" Ginny asked, prompting Harry to look at the two girls from the corner of his eye.

"What about me?" Hermione asked as Crookshanks jumped to her lap and curled on top the book.

"Do you have a date?" Ginny asked with unbridled girlish enthusiasm.

"Yes," Hermione said nonchalantly, scratching the back of Crookshanks' ear, receiving a contended purr from the feline in return.

"AND?" Ginny inquired. Harry didn't have a good view of the girls by looking out of the corner of his eye, and he definitely didn't want Hermione thinking he was the least bit interest about their conversation.

But he didn't want to miss any little detail from this particular conversation.

"Oops," Harry said dramatically, dropping his quill under the table and crouching down to get it. Ron groaned, resisting the urge to kick his best friend under the table; this was Harry's lamest attempt at spying on Hermione to this date.

Truth be told, if Harry wanted to be an Auror, he will have to work on his stealth skills, because frankly… he sucked. Period.

Harry was still crouching under the table, but he didn't even bother to pick up his quill He didn't take his eyes off Hermione.

"And what?" Hermione answered casually.

Ginny looked as if she wanted to strangle the brown-haired girl. "AND WHO IS HE? IS IT ROGER?" Ginny asked, getting up from her chair and standing in front of Hermione with a "don't you dare answer a question with a question" look in her eyes.

"If you must know… it is Roger," Hermione answered with a smile that made Harry's insides twist unpleasantly.

Ginny clapped enthusiastically, "He's so handsome."

"He is," Hermione whispered nonchalantly, trying to push Crookshanks from her lap so she could return to her book. She didn't know why, but she just wasn't comfortable discussing Roger in front of Harry. She knew Harry disliked the Ravenclaw Head Boy, and she knew she shouldn't care.

Truth was she did care… a lot.

Ginny was too giddy to notice that Hermione was not exactly interested in continuing the conversation. "Head Boy and Head Girl! You guys will definitely be the King and Queen of the ball… you two just look perfect together… SIMPLY PERFECT!" she said.

The lyrics to the song Harry had remembered when he was in the shower came back to haunt him.

'Been dazed and confused for so long.
It's not true.
Wanted a woman…
never bargained for you.'

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed his quill from the floor, and stood up, completely forgetting he was still under the table. The loud thud that followed was loud enough to make Hermione and Ginny glance back at the table in time to see Harry coming out from under it, rubbing the top of his head with his hand.

Hermione quickly forgot she was still mad at him as she asked, "Harry, are you alright?"

"I am… I just dropped my quill…" Harry mumbled as he started gathering his things.

He had to get out of there. He needed to be far away from all the talk about Roger… and dating… and Roger… and perfect…. and Roger… and Hermione.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked as he watched Harry quickly throwing his books inside his schoolbag.

"I'm going upstairs… I'm still a bit dizzy. I'll see you tomorrow," Harry said, turning around and dashing up the stairs as if the devil himself was running behind him.

Ginny looked at Hermione and Ron, who weren't the least bit surprised by Harry's unexpected departure. "What just happened?" Ginny asked, sensing that no explanation was going to be offered.

Hermione was the one to answer, "I don't know. But he's been in a mood all day."

Turning to Ron, Hermione added, "I hope it doesn't have anything to do with what happen last night in the library."

Ron almost had a heart attack as he glanced at his sister just in time to see her arching her eyebrow maliciously. Without taking her eyes off Ron, Ginny asked Hermione, "What exactly happened in the library?"

"Harry wanted to reach a book that was at the top of a bookshelf, so the git climbed to the top, but the bookshelf toppled and he fell. For the life of me, I can't think why Harry just didn't use the Accio spell on the book," Hermione answered, thankfully clueless as to the real motive behind the strange act.

"I can't think of a reason either," Ginny said, still looking at Ron.

Unlike Hermione, Ginny was not so clueless. She did have an explanation for Harry's behavior, however unlikely it was. Ginny thought she had seen something there just now… something in the way Harry looked at Hermione as he was running up the steps. Something she'd have to question Ron about.

She was glaring at Ron the way Mrs. Weasley glared at the Twins when she found out about their joke shop. Ron swallowed hard; he could almost hear Ginny's voice in his head, screaming at him 'Traitors! You promised me you weren't going to go to the library!'

Ron got up from the table so fast he knocked his chair down. "I think I'm going to bed too. Quidditch tomorrow! Night!" Ron quickly said, gathering his books under his arm. He finally ran up the stairs, cursing under his breath when he hit his toe on the top step.

Now it was Hermione's turn to be surprise. "Don't tell me is contagious," Hermione said, arching her eyebrow at Ginny.

"Don't you ever think you got stuck with the two biggest weirdoes for best friends?" asked Ginny, the wheels on her head turning like clockwork.

"Every single day, Ginevra… every single day," Hermione answered with a small smile as she went back to her book and the very needy feline known as Crookshanks.

Ginny waited for Neville while looking at the door where Harry and Ron had disappeared into. Knowing no one was looking at her, Ginny finally smiled.

She wasn't sure, but something told her she had just won the bet she had made with Parvati and Lavender at the beginning of the year.

Seems the time had come to take an active part on her friends' love life.

-----------------------

Meanwhile…

Ron reached their room, gasping for breath, ready to tell Harry off for dragging him into this mess. But he found Harry was already asleep face-first on his bed, not even bothering to take his glasses off. Ron walked to him and slapped his leg, but he got no reply in return.

"I don't think that's going to work, mate. Harry took one of Madam Pince's Dreamless Sleeping potions," Seamus, who was finishing his essay on his bed, explained. Ron looked at Harry's night table, finding the white vial that had been there earlier completely empty.

"Is he alright?" Seamus asked.

"Yeah... Why do you ask?" Ron said, trying to sound casual as he walked to his own bed.

"Well, before he fell asleep, he mumbled something…" Seamus said.

"What?" Ron asked curiously, sitting on his bed and taking his shoes off.

"It sounded like 'why did I take her for granted?' or something like that," Seamus replied, making Ron's heart jump to his throat.

After recovering from the surprise, Ron replied, "Don't worry about it, mate. He's got love problems." Ron realized his mistake after the words had come out of his mouth.

Seamus smiled. "Harry is in love?" he asked. Ron nodded, mentally slapping himself for not thinking about what comes out of his mouth before it actually does.

"About time, mate… about bloody time…"

“It is true!”

“It’s not!”

“IT IS!”

“IT’S NOT!”

The two Weasleys glared at each other, catching their breath, unaware they had just attracted the attention of every other Gryffindor in the table. It was already morning, and the Great Hall was packed with students eating their morning meal. Harry and Hermione, however, were nowhere to be found. Ron had left Harry still asleep on the dormitory they shared, while Ginny had gotten a glimpse of Hermione talking with Roger on the hallway.

Luna, who had sat that morning next to Ron, looked at the two siblings and said, “Could you please lower your voice? I don’t think this is something you want to advertise.” “It’s not my fault, honey. Ginny’s just bloody mad,” Ron said, his ears as red as his hair.

“I am not insane,” Ginny whispered, leaning across the table so Ron and Luna could see how serious she was. Neville, who was sitting next to Ginny, already knew how serious Ginny was. After all, they had discussed this subject all the way to the Great Hall when they walked together this morning. Neville suppressed a smile; he had never seen his girl so determined about anything.

Ginny continued unabated, “I know what I saw last night, Ron. That was jealousy… plain and simple jealousy!” “Harry is not jealous of Roger! Who would be jealous of Roger? He’s a pompous, slimy, son of a bi…” Ron managed to whisper before Ginny interrupted, “and he has Hermione as his date to the ball.”

“So? Harry doesn’t want her to go with Roger, and neither do I! That doesn’t mean I’m in love with her! It just means that I don’t like Roger! Which is exactly how Harry feels,” Ron said sheepishly. Even Luna looked unconvinced with his logic. “Yeah, but you don’t look at Hermione the way Harry does,” Ginny said, a triumphant smile spreading on her freckled face.

“That’s true,” both Neville and Luna said at the same time. “Are you all insane?” Ron asked, wide eyed. When Neville, Ginny and his girlfriend gave him the international “We are not crazy; you are,” look, Ron knew he better start explaining what was going on before they got any ideas in their head.

“Look, let’s say… hypothetically, of course… that Harry drank a love potion we were preparing in Snape’s class… and that he looked at Hermione while doing that… So, Ginny, if you saw jealousy in Harry’s eyes… well, it was because of the potion,” Ron explained.

“He DRANK it? That’s stupid. Not even I do that,” Neville said, grimacing. Ron snapped, “It wasn’t on purpose. And that’s beside the point. The point is that Ginny here thinks that Harry is in love with Hermione, but she’s wrong! He’s not in love with her! He was just under the effects of the potion last night. It will pass… soon.”

“Wait, wasn’t your Potion class on Monday?” Ginny asked; Neville nodded in return. “So?” Ron asked. “So, the effects of the Philtrum Casses Amator last for only eight hours,” Luna answered.

“Have you been playing with love potions behind my back?” Ron asked his girlfriend. “You just don’t like being wrong. Harry couldn’t have been under the influence of the potion a day after he drank it,” Ginny answered cheekily.

“How can you know? For all I know, I could have mixed more fairy dust or less dragon dung or stirred it the wrong way, and that might have resulted in the potion’s effects lasting for a longer time,” Ron said, knowing Ginny’s arguments by heart, since they had been floating around on his mind since Harry’s behavior the day before.

Neville caught sight of a certain raven-haired boy entering the great hall. “Harry’s coming,” he quickly announced, and everyone tried his or her best to look nonchalantly as Harry approached the table. “What’s going on?” Harry asked, frowning. There was definitely something up with his friends.

“You look better than you did last night,” Ginny said as Harry took the empty seat next to Ron. “I feel better,” Harry answered. It was true that his body felt better, even if the bump next to his scar was hurting like hell. Madam Pomfrey’s potion had worked wonders on him.

Now, if she could only make a potion to make him fall out of love with his best friend…

He has just started to savor his first piece of toast with grape jelly when he saw Hermione step into the Great Hall. Like yesterday, Roger’s arm was draped around her shoulders, making Harry’s stomach do flip-flops. He forced himself to swallow as they stood next to the Ravenclaw table.

Roger kissed Hermione on the cheek and whispered something in her ear. Hermione was blushing as she nodded at him (why does she have to look so beautiful when she blushes?), turning around and making her way back to the Gryffindor table. She was still smiling when she took the empty seat next to Ginny.

Was it Harry’s imagination or had Roger thrown a very angry look his way?

“Good morning, everyone,” Hermione said, quickly grabbing a green apple and sinking her teeth on it, the juice dripping lazily down her chin. Harry fought the urge to wipe it with his thumb. “Morning,” everyone, including Harry, greeted.

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked out loud. Harry immediately knew that, even if she hadn’t forgiven him for being a total jerk yesterday, she was still very concerned for him. His stomach gave another jolt when he remembered how she had saved for him last night.

“I’m feeling better. Thanks for asking,” Harry whispered, forcing himself to look at his plate because he still didn’t trust himself around her. For a moment this morning, he had thought the potion’s effect had disappeared. But seeing Hermione walking in Roger just helped him see how wrong he had been.

Harry felt Hermione nod, and he didn’t even look up when he heard the familiar fluttering on hundreds of wings as the morning owl post arrived. He heard a heavy thud on the table in front of him and looked up for just a moment to see Hermione picking up her copy of the Daily Prophet from a beautiful tawny owl.

Hermione opened the newspaper, and Harry forced himself to butter another piece of toast. None of them missed the way Ginny nodded at the two of them, her eyes locked on the blushing Ron.

“This is interesting,” Hermione said absentmindedly, her eyes scanning the front page. “What is it?” Luna asked, twirling a red strand of Ron’s hair in her fingers. Hermione turned the newspaper around so Luna could see what had caught her attention.

“Ancient Magical Artifact Stolen from Muggle Museum,” Luna read out loud. Hermione once again turned the newspaper so she could read, but knowing Luna was interested, she read the clipping out loud.

---------

Ancient Magical Artifact Stolen from Muggle Museum

By Bobby McGee

At 1:32 AM today, the Museum of Berlin reported a break-in on their premises, and an object of magical origin has been reported as missing.

The Museum, one of the oldest and most respected Muggle institutions in Europe, was currently housing a special exhibition of Myths of the Dead from the Middle Ages. This exhibition had been prepared in collaboration with Berlin’s Ministry of Magic officials.

Berlin’s Ministry officials have not released information specific about the missing object. All that is currently known is that the object is of extreme value to the magical community.

An inquiry is under way to see how such a magical artifact ended up in a muggle institution.

---------

“Somebody screwed up,” Neville said when Hermione finished reading the story. “I didn’t know that people in muggle government knew about our world,” Ginny said absently. Luna answered by saying, “Some do. They help to keep our world secret from the muggles.”

“Which is why I find so strange that such an important artifact was housed in a non-magical place,” Hermione said. “This looks like a case for Shirley Holmes!” Ron added, winking at Luna, who had been pestering him to take Muggle Studies since they started dating.

“The name’s Sherlock Holmes, Ron,” Harry mumbled, pushing the piece of bacon all over the plate. “Harry, would you just eat? You’ve been pushing your food around for the last two days,” Hermione sighed.

Harry threw his fork on the plate with a loud clink. How dare she criticize his eating habits? She was the one that seemed to be in a perpetual diet since… since…

“You are one to talk! Since you became Roger’s girl you hardly have a decent meal!” Harry snapped before the rational part of his brain had a chance to kick in. No sooner had the words left his mouth that he wanted to slap himself senseless.

He had managed to anger the woman he cared for.

‘Great. Now you did it, Potter. Now you really screwed up…’
Hermione sat up abruptly, her chair screeching against the marble floor. Without saying a word, she started walking away. Roger sat up when he spotted her, but Harry watched over his shoulder as she put her hand up to stop Roger from following her, shaking her head and finally exciting the Great Hall.

When Harry turned around, he found all the Gryffindor students were looking at him in shock. “Your breakfast is getting cold,” he hissed, standing up and turning around, intent on following Hermione and apologize.

“Did you had a fight with your girlfriend, Potty?” Draco snickered from the nearby Slytherin table. Harry resisted the urge to turn back and punch him, so he swallowed his anger and left the Great Hall. When he arrived in the hallway, he looked sideways, trying to find a clue as to where Hermione had run off.

Harry felt a hand on his arm, and before he knew what was going on he was being turned around forcefully. He found the angry face of Roger Davies staring at him.

“WHAT DID YOU DO NOW?” Roger spit in his face. Harry clenched his hands on fists, thinking, ‘A fight with Roger is the last thing I need right now.’

“Let me go, Roger. I want to apologize to Hermione,” Harry said, trying to control his temper in the presence of his least favorite person in all Hogwarts.

“I won’t let go until you tell me what you did to my girl!” Roger said, holding so tightly to Harry’s arm Harry was sure he would leave a mark.

‘My girl… how dare he call her “my girl”. He didn’t even smile at her until she became Head Girl!’
Harry wriggled his arm free of Roger’s iron grip and said, “First of all, she’s not YOUR girl. Second, what goes on between Hermione and me STAYS between Hermione and me. If she feels like sharing with you, it’s her choice!”

“20 Points from Gryffindor!” Roger hissed, taking one more step so he was less than an inch away from Harry. Harry looked up at the taller man and couldn’t help but smirk, replying, “Roger… you can take those 20 points and shove ‘em where the sun don’t shine.”

Harry turned around quickly before Roger could do anything that could jeopardize his position as Hogwarts’ Holier-Than-Thou Head Boy, and sprinted down the hallway.

***************

MEANWHILE

Ron and Ginny were involved in another of their staring contests, and Ron was loosing badly. After what they had just witnessed between Harry and Hermione, Ginny was surer than ever of what was going on.

Ron finally sighed in defeat and looked away, saying, “It’s the potion, Ginny.”

“It is not the potion, Ron!” Ginny said, shaking her head. She added resolutely, “I’ve been expecting this for a while… Believe me, Ron, there’s something else there… something’s that’s been brewing since last year.”

Ron leaned across the table, not wanting any of the other Gryffindors to eavesdrop, and said, “Since you know everything, what are you asking me for?”

“Because I need to know what WE are going to do about it…” Ginny said. “We? WE? We are not getting involved in this, Ginny. If Harry does feel something for Hermione… then is his problem if he wants to admit it or not!” Ron replied angrily.

“Ron,” Ginny said softly, knocking the anger right out of her big brother.

“Don’t you think your best friends deserve a chance to be happy?”

Ron should have known better than to think Ginny was going to back down. It was a good thing too, because his little sister had just given him the push he so desperately needed.

Ron looked from Luna, to Neville and back to his sister, a small smile spreading on his freckled cheeks.

“Alright… hypothetically… what are we going to do about it?”

***************

A few hours later…

To his dismay, the school bell had rung before Harry had a chance to see Hermione and apologize. He didn’t have any classes with Hermione during the morning, and he knew better than to interrupt her during one of her classes.

The thought of her had consumed him the entire morning. He knew he better start working on an antidote soon, because he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Hermione more than he had already hurt her.

Divination was his last class of the morning, and the last hour he would have to endure without apologizing to Hermione.

Divination was one of Harry’s favorite classes. After all, he would usually sit down on the enchanted hill that was Firenze’s classroom, and looked at the make-believe stars hovering over them, thinking about Quidditch, butterbeer and weekends in Hogsmeade.

As usual, the handsome Centaur that was their Divination teacher, Firenze, started his class by saying, “Students, please sit down. Relax your thoughts and open your mind. Look up at the heavens… and prepare to see what they may be ready to show you.”

“I’m happy to comply,” Ron whispered as he lay down on the grass next to Harry, both putting his hands on the back of their heads and looking up.

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. For the first time since the whole potion incident, he felt truly at peace. Maybe it was the thought of finally apologizing to Hermione and begging her for forgiveness… maybe it was the thought that as soon as he drank the antidote everything between Hermione and himself would go back to normal.

When he opened his eyes again, the room was strangely quiet. He couldn’t even hear Ron’s soft snores next to him. Harry sat up and looked around… only to find he was completely alone in the grassy hill.

‘What’s… what’s going on?’ Harry thought, his fingers digging deeper into the earth as he felt a cold wind forming all around him, messing up the brown leaves around him, ruffling his hair every which way, until the coldness was so sharp he had trouble keeping his eyes open.

He panicked when he found he couldn’t move as roots that looked like thin arms with bony fingers wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles, pinning him into the ground. He tried wriggling himself free, but only managed to cut into his skin.

It was Harry’s turn to scream, but when he tried to, no sound came out of his mouth. It felt like someone had sucked the air out of his lungs, until only the burning sensation of being deprived of oxygen accompanied the icy coldness that spread thru his body.

He sharply snapped his head back, trying with all his might to draw some much needed air. He found that the night sky that had been filled with stars moments ago was now pitch black, and the only source of light was the foreboding full moon.


Harry was gasping by the time he noticed that the full moon was turning darker and darker… that something seemed to be crawling on is surface, slowly swallowing it behind a curtain of red.

Red.

A drop fell on Harry’s cheek, and he knew it wasn’t water. It was something warm and sticky… something that smelled of death and pain.

Harry didn’t need to be a genius to know what blood felt like.

He forced himself to look at the moon, really look at it, as more and more drops fell on his face, his arms, his chest…

The moon was being swallowed by blood.

The drops soon became a drizzle… Harry tried harder than ever to free himself of the holds, completely disgusted by the blood falling on him. He could feel the cuts in his arms and legs growing deeper and deeper, until he cried in pain and frustration.

But it wasn’t a drizzle anymore… it was as if the heavens themselves had decided to open their doors for much needed release… Harry was soaked to his very bones, completely covered by the offending liquid. He could taste the blood in his mouth, he could feel it going down his nose and slowly coming down his throat.

Harry tried closing his eyes, but he couldn’t… there has too much blood floating in them

The ground started to cave in inch by inch until the ground underneath him was swallowing Harry.

It was Harry’s turn to drown in a pool of blood.

“HARRY! HARRY! HARRY! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

Harry opened his eyes to find Ron’s face hovering just inches above his. He quickly tried to sit up, but knocked his forehead against Ron’s chin in the haste. Clutching his newest injury, Harry looked around.

His fellow students were looking at him as if he had sprouted a second head. Even Firenze was looking at him in wonder. But aside from that, everything looked just as it did when he had stepped into the classroom.

“What happened?” Harry asked Ron, who was rubbing his chin and wincing. “How the hell should I know? You just started screaming and trashing like a madman!” Ron replied.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Lavender asked worriedly. Harry nodded absently. What the hell had just happened? He hadn’t felt sleepy when he first came into the classroom. How come he had fallen asleep and had subjected himself to another nightmare?

“I am,” Harry lied, clutching his scar absentmindedly. It felt like a hot metal rod was poking his forehead. He was soaking wet, but thankfully, it was only sweat.

Professor Firenze spoke for the first time, “Students, you can go now. Class has ended… for now.” Ron and Neville helped Harry to his feet. He was a bit wobbly, but soon found the strength returning to his legs. When he found he could stand on his own, he nodded at the two boys.

Harry had already threw his bag over his shoulder and was about to follow Ron, Neville and his fellow Gryffindors out of the classroom when he heard Firenze’s voice say, “Harry, I need to talk to you.”

Harry sighed in defeat. ‘Why can’t anything be easy?’

“I’ll meet you outside,” Harry whispered to Ron. The redhead nodded and left the classroom with Neville. When they were in the hallway and out of earshot from Harry, Ron turned to Neville and said, “You stay here. I’m going to get Hermione. Something’s definitely wrong with Harry.”

Inside the classroom, Harry was trying to busy himself with looking at his shoes and ignoring Firenze’s eyes on him. The centaur had remained silent for almost five minutes, with only the occasional clop of his hooves breaking the uncomfortable silence.

‘I can’t take this anymore.’

“Professor, I…” Harry started saying, when Firenze interrupted him by saying, “I know what it is you saw.”

‘WHAT?’
“It is a very powerful omen… what the heavens have decided to reveal to you, Harry,” Firenze added. “Professor, I’m sorry but… I just fell asleep. I bumped my head the other day on the library and… well, I’ve been having weird dreams since then,” Harry replied hesitantly.

“That was not a dream, young Potter. You need to be asleep in order to dream. You were very much awake when you received a vision,” Firenze said sharply, his eyes growing into slits as if he wanted to see what was going on inside Harry’s mind.

“A vision?” Harry asked out loud. “Yes, a vision… a vision of death and destruction… of the past… of the future… maybe of the present… time doesn’t mean much to the universe,” Firenze said quizzically.

“That was helpful,” Harry said, suddenly feeling very angry. Why do these things happen to him? Why couldn’t Ron or Hermione or even Dumbledore get cryptic messages from the universe? Why did it have to be the boy with the freaky scar?

“What I just told you is all I know. All I know is that a cruentus lunaris is a very powerful omen…” Firenze said, showing a bit of anger at Harry’s words on his usually calm eyes.

“But… but how can I know what it means? I mean… let’s say for a moment that it was a vision… why me? Why now? What is the so-called universe trying to tell me?” Harry said rapidly, a thousand different thoughts floating in his tired mind. “I don’t know. It hasn’t been revealed to me… I was not the chosen one,” Firenze said forcefully.

All the frustration and anger and disappointment that Harry had felt all his life seemed to accumulate and explode in that single moment. Why couldn’t he get a straight answer for once?

“Well, I won’t let the universe fuck me over one more time,” Harry said fiercely, turning around and walking away, leaving a shock Firenze behind. “Trouble is coming your way, young Potter!” Firenze called.

“Tell me something I don’t know!” Harry said angrily as he finally left the classroom. He was so angry he couldn’t even see straight, and he unwittingly bumped against someone or something.

“Harry, are you okay? What happened to you?” a familiar voice, full of worry, suddenly asked.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, his legs feeling very weak. He felt Hermione grab him by the waist and push him against the wall, using her body to pin him and support him. He would have been exhilarated if it wasn’t for the fact that he felt as if he was dying.

“Oh my god. We have to get you to Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said worriedly, putting her hand on his forehead. Her hand felt so cold against his rising fever. Harry shook his head in protest. He had visited the hospital enough this week; he wasn’t about to waste more hours cooped up in that room.

“But you have to! You are not well!” Hermione said, her voice breaking with emotion. Harry tried to look at her thru his fogged up glasses. Her eyes were red and full of anxiety; her lips were trembling slightly, and she was shaking with the exertion of supporting Harry’s weight.

“I’ll be fine, Mione. Don’t worry,” Harry said tiredly. He put his forehead against Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione softly started caressing the back of his head with her hand, as a mother would do to her crying child.

Harry did felt like crying. Everything had been going so well this semester. His grades had gone up, he had done well on his first Quidditch match, and even Voldemort had gone into hiding. But this week… it was as if the gods upstairs had decided to come together and send something Harry’s way just because they were bored.

Before he knew it, Harry was moistening Hermione’s shoulder with tears. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, until her body was rocking with his sobs.

“Harry, I’m here… talk to me,” she whispered soothingly, kissing his hair with tenderness. “Just… just…hold me,” Harry whispered, wrapping his arms around Hermione’s waist and pulling her toward him.

It was so comforting to be in her arms, to breathe in her scent, to feel the warmth of her skin against his. And Harry Potter felt something he had not felt since he was a baby.

He felt safe.

He was about to tell her he was sorry for the way he had acted, and he was even going to confess about the potion, when she took his face between her hands and forced him to look at her.

“Harry, what happened in Divination class?” Hermione asked him, her thumbs gently kneading his cheeks. “What do you mean?” Harry asked, knowing full well what she meant. But how could she know? She was in another classroom when it happened.

As if to answer, Hermione said, “Ron looked for me and told me what happened. He asked me to come in after you. He was so worried! And I can see why… Harry, please let me take you to the hospital.”

“He did. Didn’t he?” Harry said, feeling the coldness once again as he let go of Hermione’s waist. Is that why she was here? Because Ron sent her to check up on him?

“Don’t be mad, Harry. He’s just worried… and so am I! You’ve been acting weird all week…” Hermione said worriedly, dropping her hands from Harry’s face when she felt him tense.

“I’ve had things on my mind,” Harry mumbled, running his hands on his raven hair. “Things? THINGS? You collapsed on Transfiguration yesterday! You started screaming in Divination just half an hour ago… that’s more than just things!” Hermione said, beginning to be exasperated by Harry’s stubbornness.

“You don’t know what they are,” Harry said softly, looking for a way to make a swift exit from what had downgraded to a very uncomfortable situation.

“Because you refuse to talk to me, Harry!” Hermione replied, crossing her arms over her chest with equal stubbornness.

‘I can’t take this anymore… I can’t… I can’t breathe… I need to get out of here…’
“That’s because there are things about me that don’t concern you!” Harry screamed, making Hermione take a few steps back. He regretted it immediately. He was angry at all the bullshit around him… but he was definitely not angry with her.

Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and she was biting her lower lip to stop herself from screaming back at him.

‘Great, Potter. Just great. You are in love with the girl and you’ve made her cry twice in less than 24 hours. Way to go. No wonder your relationships suck!’

“Fine! You want to play the lone fucking ranger now, that’s fine with me! See if I care!” Hermione blurted in an uncharacteristic surge of anger, turning around sharply on her heel and walking away as if the devil himself was nipping at her feet.

‘Shit! Shit! SHIT!’
“Hermione, I’m sorry...” Harry started, but it was already too late. She had already rounded the corner and was out of his sight.

He contemplated running after her and begging for forgiveness, but if he had learned anything these last six years about his best friend was that if Hermione Granger was angry, then she needed her space. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her right hook like Malfoy had on their Third year.

So Harry decided to skip lunch and run straight to the library, putting thoughts about the dream/vision in the backburner. He had a more pressing problem, and he needed to find a solution.

NOW.

What Harry didn’t know was that Neville and Ron had been watching from the far corner his little exchange with Hermione… and that Ron was not a happy camper.

Harry decided to skip lunch and his afternoon classes and sought refuge in the place no one would expect to find him in.


The library.

Madam Pince had been keeping a close eye on him all afternoon, watching him over the top of the book she was holding as if expecting him to continue the destruction of her beloved sanctuary.

Thankfully, Harry had been on his best behavior. After his “vision”, after his fight with Hermione, after the dizziness and weakness had diminished, Harry had walked straight to the Hogwarts library and had taken from the shelves all of the Potions books he thought could help him with his current predicament.

“1001 Useful Potions”

“How to be a Potions Master”

“Potions for Dummies”

“A Nitpicker’s Guide to Potion Brewing.”

“What to Do When You Are Under a Spell”

“This is hopeless,” Harry mumbled as he reached the last page of the last book on his list. He had found nothing on the Philtrum Casses Amator potion, and even less about a possible counter potion.

The only bit of useful information he had found among the thousand of pages he had flipped through this afternoon was about how a potion’s effect could change slightly due to small differences in the quantity of the ingredients. Harry guessed that this was the case. Probably Ron had used more belladonna or less lily dust, and that’s why the effects of the potion on Harry had lasted for more than the intended eight hours.

At least, that’s what he hoped, because just the thought that there might be some other explanation terrified him.

He sighed in defeat again, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes, trying to push his headache out by the sheer power of his will. The headache was so pervasive that Harry couldn’t concentrate anymore on the whole business of Hermione and the potion.

Harry had managed to suppress the images of the dream/vision that had tormented in Firenze’s class, but due to his weariness and his hunger, he couldn’t anymore. He shivered absently, remembering the piercing cold that seemed to reach his very bones. Today had been the second time in two days that he had felt that screeching cold washing over him, and he had no idea why.

Harry had never thought of himself as claustrophobic. After all, you couldn’t be claustrophobic if your room for ten years had been a tiny cupboard under the stairs, and if one of your family’s favorite punishments was to lock you in a dark closet for hours. In fact, he rather liked that punishment…it was better than his uncle beating on him.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling of despair and hopeless every time he remembered what it felt to be bounded by the arms and the legs, unable to move an inch - what it felt like to try to draw breath and feel your lugs burning for lack of air… what it felt to drown in blood… what it felt like when the earth opened up and swallowed him.

The heavy Irish accented voice that belonged to Seamus Finnegan brought Harry back to the real world.

“Harry, where’ve you been? You missed all afternoon classes!” Seamus asked. Harry opened his eyes to find Seamus and Dean standing next to his table, looking very concerned over his classmate.

Harry said the first thing that came into his mind, “I needed to do some research for an extra-credit in Transfiguration.” He heard his stomach grumble impatiently, and it reminded him that it had been a while since he had last eaten.

“What time is it?” Harry asked his friends. Dean, the muggle-born of the two, glanced at his Thundercats wristwatch.

“Its 8:15PM, mate,” Dean answered. Harry was surprised; he knew he had spent a long time in the library, but he was shocked to learn that the day was almost gone.

“Well, I’ve been here enough. I’ll see you guys later,” Harry said, standing up and picking up the books that were scattered across his table before Dean and Seamus got a chance to see them. He managed to smile politely again, only to be met by the worry faces of his colleagues.

“Are you sure you are okay, Harry? I mean…what happened in Firenze’s class was pretty scary,” Seamus said. Harry shook his head, trying to appear casual about what had happened.

The word “scary” paled in comparison to what it really felt like.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry about it. It was a just a bad dream,” Harry said nonchalantly. Dean and Seamus finally nodded at him, a little bit more relieved by his demeanor. “See ya,” he repeated, making his way out of the library, but not before putting the books back in their rightful places and giving Madam Pince a polite “good night”, whom still felt the need to guard her beloved sanctuary from the menace that seemed to be Harry Potter.

Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor common room, encountering a few students on the way who seemed to stop what they were doing when he approached, staring cautiously at him. How Harry hated his fame! He knew that the rumors of what had happened to him in Firenze’s class must have spread throughout the school like wildfire, and that now everyone was wondering just what it meant.

If it had happened to anyone else, the matter would have been forgotten by dinnertime. But he was the Boy-Who-Lived, and everyone knew with Harry things were always more complicated.

Even love.

He pretty much ignored everyone as he walked down the hallways, only stopping short when he caught sight of Neville and Ginny walking hand in hand just a few meters away in front of him. He hid behind a corner until he couldn’t hear their footsteps anymore. He could ignore everyone else, but he knew he would have a hard time trying to dodge Ginny and Neville’s questions.

Harry made it inside the common room, ignoring the Fat Lady’s remark that he looked quite ill. “Harry, how are you feeling?” he heard Lavender asked from the couch she was sharing with Parvati. He didn’t even glance at them as he walked straight up the stairs to his dormitory, giving them a polite, “just peachy. Thanks for asking,” before he disappeared into his room.

He breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that just maybe he had reached a place where there will be some peace and quiet inside his head. He was already thinking about a relaxing shower and what he was going to ask Dobby to bring him from the kitchen when Harry felt someone’s hands on his back. Next moment, he had fallen face first on his bed, pushed by an unseen assailant.

He quickly turned around on the bed, already clutching his wand on his hand, prepared to hex the living daylights out of the intruder. But “surprise” was too mild a word to describe what he felt when he realized that the only person on the room with him was Ron.

Ron was standing a few feet away from him, staring daggers back at him. It was a look that was usually reserved for Malfoy and had only been directed at Harry during their Fourth Year, when Ron thought that Harry had entered the Tri-Wizard Tournament because of fame and fortune. It was a look Harry hoped would never be directed at him again.

“RON? WHAT IN BLAZES DID YOU DID THAT FOR?” Harry screamed at his best friend.

“Because you DESERVED it!” Ron hissed, trembling with anger, pointing an accusing finger at Harry.

“What did I do now?” Harry said, utterly confused as he straighten slightly until he was sitting in bed.

“I saw what you did to Hermione! How can you say something so hurtful? She was just worried about you!” Ron accused. Harry was shocked, not only because Ron hardly took Hermione’s side on arguments, but also because he realized Ron was keeping a close eye on him.

“You were SPYING on me?” Harry said defensively. If he had hoped his own accusation would make Ron back down, but he was sorely mistaken.

“YES, I WAS! I didn’t trust you to behave…and I WAS RIGHT! And don’t give me any crap about it, cause you sir, are the master in listening in to your friends’ private conversations,” Ron said, getting redder with every word that came out of his mouth.

“Why did you tell her what happened? Why did you tell her to check up on me?” Harry asked, letting go of his wand, not trusting the guilt he was feeling over Ron’s words to stop him from hexing his red-haired friend.

“Because this is HERMIONE! If anyone can help you with whatever is going on with you, it’s HER! It has ALWAYS been her!” Ron said truthfully, some of the anger ebbing away at the helpless sight his best friend made.

“Nothing is going on with me, Ron,” Harry said, hoping that if he lied enough times, the lie would become the truth.

“Like hell it is, Harry. There’s some crazy stuff going on with you. I mean…,” Ron said, running his hands through his hair in frustration, “If you had seen your face when you started screaming…you were terrified…I’ve never seen you so scared in my life, Harry.” Ron sat next to Harry on the bed and exhaled loudly, feeling useless to help his friend.

“I have a lot of things on my mind,” Harry whispered, leaning his head on his hands and closing his eyes. The headache was back with a vengeance, the skin over his scar burning like a lump of coal.

A silence fell between the two friends, and wasn’t broken until Ron softly whispered, “Is this about Hermione…I mean…about your feelings for her?” He suddenly felt guilty about “The Plan” Ginny, Neville, Luna and himself had concocted that morning.

“Maybe…maybe not. I don’t know. Firenze seems to think what happened this morning was some sort of vision, but…I don’t know…I can’t shake the feeling that Hermione has something to do with it,” Harry confessed, surprised at the sincerity of his words.

“Why did you snap at her? She was so worried about you when I told her what had happened! She didn’t come to dinner, you know. She didn’t say anything to me, but…I caught sight of her crying…on bloody Roger’s shoulder,” Ron said, his voice turning suddenly bitter at the mention of the Ravenclaw’s name.

Harry impulsively gripped handfuls of his hair more tightly, and tried to ignore the stream of images of Hermione in Roger’s arms that popped into his head, and that threatened to make his headache even worst.

Harry sighed and looked up at Ron, his answer clear as he said, “I think…I think I’m trying to push her away…that is, until all this mess with the potion is resolved. I don’t want to do anything that would jeopardize our friendship. You know you two mean the world to me.”

At that moment, Ron felt something he had never felt concerning Harry. He pitied the emerald-eyed boy, wondering how come such an incredibly courageous and bright person could be so oblivious to what was evident to everyone else.

Ron put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and said, “Look, mate, I’m not trying to give you advice on your love life, because that’s always been Hermoine’s department, but…if you ARE in love with her, even if is just the potion…what’s so bad about that?”

Harry didn’t respond, turning his head around, absently looking at his partial reflection on the corner mirror. Ron decided to continue pressing the matter, “Hermione is not ugly, mate.”

That got a reaction from Harry. “She’s beautiful,” Harry whispered with reverence.

Ron followed with a, “She’s not an ignorant git.”

To which Harry replied, “She’s the most intelligent girl I know.”

“She’s not self-centered or selfish,” Ron said. Harry seemed slightly offended by Ron’s casual description, judging by the way his eyes grew into slits.

“Ron, she has the biggest heart in the world and you know it!” Harry replied.

“True, she’s a bit bossy. But so are the Weasley women and they are, according to others, lovable. But you know that even when she bosses us around, she always means well,” Ron said, trying to conceal his smile. He has finally getting a reaction out of Harry he could work with.

“I know she does,” Harry whispered. Ron raised his hands emphatically, knowing he was going in for the kill, and asked, “Then, what is the big problem with falling in love with her?”

He wasn’t prepared to hear Harry’s whisper, “The big problem is that she’s not in love with me. She’s in love with Roger Davies. And that makes me feel so bad that I end up doing the thing I want the least to do in this life…I end up hurting her.”

Ron didn’t know what to reply. This definitely wasn’t the answer he was hoping for.

“Ron, you and Hermione are my best friends. I don’t want to hurt her, just as you don’t want to hurt her. But if I don’t find the antidote soon, my jealousy will end up destroying my friendship with her…and I can’t even stand the thought of that happening,” Harry said softly, turning around once more to look at Ron.

Ron shook his head and sighed. Maybe Ginny was wrong and Harry was right. Maybe Hermione didn’t have more feelings for Harry than just a close friendship. After all, she seemed to be getting pretty tight with Roger. Maybe by trying to push his best friends together, Ron was making things worst.

But…what if? What if Ginny was right? Ron had never found the “what if” so infuriating before in his life.

“Harry, can I ask you something?” Ron said, turning around to look at his friend. Harry had once again closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. The young man mumbled what sounded like a “what?” and Ron decided to ask Harry the same question Ginny had asked him this morning.

“How can you be so sure Hermione is not in love with you?” Ron asked Harry. Harry looked at him as if he suddenly had sprouted a third arm.

“Are you bloody mad?” Harry spouted.

“I think it’s an honest question!” Ron said. Harry scoffed.

“How can I be sure? Well, maybe because I’m not the one that’s been hand in hand with her all week…and I’m not the one that’s pulling her inside an empty classroom to snog her senseless… and I’m not the one who’s going to take her to the Halloween ball!” Harry snapped before he could stop himself.

He grimaced as soon as he realized how bitter and jealous he sounded. Ron raised an eyebrow at him.

“I turned into a cretin again, didn’t I?” Harry said, feeling so ashamed he could feel his cheeks burning.

“You did, mate. Look, I think that before you do anything else, you need to apologize to Hermione,” Ron suggested.

Harry nodded. “Do you know where she is?” he asked, remembering Ron had told him she hadn’t gone down to dinner.

“In the library?” Ron offered.

Harry shook his head, saying, “I just came from there.”

“She’s not downstairs…maybe she’s in her common room,” Ron said.

“I’ll take a shower, and then I’ll go and I’ll apologize,” Harry said, getting up from the bed, the hunger and the exhaustion he had felt not ten minutes ago were already forgotten.

He grabbed an old jean and a thin white shirt from his armoire, and looked back at Ron, who was still sitting in Harry’s bed with an unreadable expression on his freckled face.

“So, are we okay?” Harry asked his best friend. Ron looked at him seriously for a couple of seconds, but finally smiled, nodding his head in agreement.

“Yes, we are okay,” Ron said, getting up from the bed and walking toward Harry. Patting Harry in the back, Ron added, “But next time you make Hermione cry, I’ll kick your arse.”

Ron then left the room and went back to the common room, leaving Harry with a slight smile on his tired face.

He didn’t mind Ron kicking his arse when he deserved it.

------------------------------

30 minutes later…

Harry adjusted his eyeglasses and ran his fingers through his still wet hair, trying to smooth it back in a lame attempt to look presentable.

‘Why am I so nervous? It’s only Hermione…come on, buddy, you can do this.’

“What do you want?” the portrait of the old hag that was the guardian of the Head Boy and Head Girl’s Rooms asked Harry brusquely.

“I…I want to see Hermione Granger,” Harry said, wondering why Hermione had never given Ron and himself the password.

‘Maybe because I never bother to ask her…. She’s always in the Gryffindor common room, after all.’

Harry stayed in front of the door for some time, but nothing was happening. He was growing more impatient by the second, until he couldn’t help to turn toward the portrait on the right and blurt a gruff, “Well? Is she coming or not?”

“WHAT AM I? A BLOODY MAID? Knock if you want to see her!” the portrait of the hag screamed at Harry. Harry mumbled a very sarcastic “thank you,” just before he knocked twice on the wooden door that marked the entrance to the Head Boy/Girl Quarters.

He heard a faint noise from the other side of the door, and ran his fingers over his shirt impulsively, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. He heard definitive footsteps now, and took a deep breath.

The doorknob turned. The door opened just a bit…to reveal the face of Roger Davies.

‘Bloody Wanker’

“Can I help you?” Roger asked the irritated Harry. Judging by the Ravenclaw’s face, Harry knew Roger would swallow a jalapeño than actually be helpful.

“I’m looking for Hermione,” Harry said, managing to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“What for?” Roger asked brusquely. Before Harry could reply that it was none of Roger’s damn business, he heard Hermione’s voice in a soft whisper.

Roger visibly tensed, but finally opened the door completely, revealing Hermione, who had been hiding behind the door.

He gulped hard. Hermione was already dressed for bed, a tank top and trousers the color of crimson, with a silk robe over her shoulders that contrasted sharply. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her hair tied on a messy bun that let many lose tendrils cascade around her face. He would have smiled at how beautiful she looked, but he stopped when he caught sight of the sadness in her brown eyes.

‘This is my fault.’

“Yes, Harry?” Hermione asked, her voice tired, but business-like. It didn’t escape to Harry the fact that she was still standing next to Roger.

“I…I…was wondering if I could talk to you,” Harry said softly, locking his eyes with hers.

“So talk,” Roger interrupted. Harry sighed and turned his attention toward the Head Boy, ready to liberate all the expletives in his vocabulary, only to be beaten by Hermione.

Turning toward Roger, Hermione coolly said, “I’ll be outside.” Harry couldn’t help but savor the sight of Roger’s scowl as Hermione stepped out of their common room and closed the door behind her. That was a Kodak moment if he ever saw one.

Hermione avoided Harry’s eyes as she took a few steps down the hallway, and Harry, who did not know how to continue with his plan, followed her in silence. Hermione finally stopped, leaned back against the wall, and looked up at Harry.

“What is it?” she asked, her red-rimmed eyes locking on Harry’s. Harry found he had trouble finding his voice when she was looking at him with such gloom in her eyes. He looked down at his feet, hoping that some of that legendary Gryffindor courage would kick in. The silence was growing heavy, unbearable.

“I’m sorry…for yelling at you earlier…I wasn’t feeling well, and…well, I snapped at the first person I saw…which unfortunately happened to be my best friend,” he finally whispered, still looking down at the floor.

He was surprised when he heard Hermione sigh tremulously and say, “Well, I’m sorry too.”

“You are?” he asked, finally looking up, his eyes betraying the confusion he felt.

“Of course I am…I shouldn’t have screamed at you,” Hermione said, her head lowered, her voice suspiciously neutral. Harry didn’t know what to make of it until he heard her say with an amused voice, “I should have slugged you.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh when Hermione finally looked up, revealing a small smile gracing her enchanting lips.

“Was that a joke, Ms. Granger?” Harry asked cheekily.

“Maybe,” was Hermione’s answer, the smile still tugging at the corners of her mouth.

After they shared another nervous laugh, Hermione’s expression sobered. “I am truly sorry, Harry. I…I shouldn’t have screamed back at you,” she said, biting her lower lip nervously.

“I deserved much more than just for you to scream back at me,” Harry said truthfully.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t make it right,” Hermione said gently. She looked down so only the top of her head was visible to Harry, and said, “I’m just a bit overwhelmed…and frustrated, you know.”

“With what?” he asked, venturing to put a hand on her shoulder. He could feel the heat coming from her even through her robe, and he gulped nervously.

“With you, Harry, with you,” she said, raising her head and locking her eyes with his.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his mind suddenly at a loss for words to express all the things he was feeling at this moment.

“Do you even know why you are saying sorry, Harry?” Hermione said softly. He let his hand wander from her shoulder, slowly down her arm, until he reached her hand, all the while reveling in the warmth she emanated. Harry felt assurance when Hermione captured his hand on her own and squeezed softly, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

“Because I’ve hurt you,” Harry whispered, looking down at their intertwined hands, mesmerized by the feel of her thumb tracing circles on his skin.

“You have hurt me. But is not because you’ve snapped at me or said mean things; it’s because you’ve been pushing me away. Because there’s something wrong with you and you’ve left me in the dark. I’m not used to that…,” Hermione whispered, her broken voice betraying how hurt she truly was. Harry instinctively gripped her hand more tightly in his.

“I really didn’t mean to, Mione. It’s just like I told you…I’ve had a lot things on my mind,” Harry said apologetically.

“Like what?” Hermione said, surprisingly gripping his shirt and pulling him closer to her, until the tip of his sneakers touched the tip of her feet.

Harry gulped, aware that her hand was still clutching to his shirt possessively.

‘Like you.’

“Like Voldemort. Death Eaters. N.E.W.T’s. Sirius. The war,” Harry said softly. He wasn’t lying—those things were always on his mind, just like the scar was always present on his forehead. But everything else had taken second place to the brown haired girl standing in front of him.

He heard Hermione sigh and let go of his shirt. He looked up to find his friends with her eyes closed, rubbing her temple with the hand that had been clutching his shirt. When she opened her eyes looked up at him, he immediately knew she wasn’t satisfied with his answer.

“What about what happened at Transfiguration yesterday? And in Divination today?” Hermione asked him. Harry sighed and looked down at the floor. He really didn’t want to think about what he had seen in Divination, or remember the coldness he had felt in Transfiguration.

Hermione straightened, and the sudden movement brought her even closer to Harry. Once again, she made that exquisitely possessive gesture of clinging to his shirt, her nails grazing slightly his stomach through the thin fabric of the shirt. He closed his eyes and sighed. If she kept this up, he was going to do something stupid. Again.

“I…it’s just…just nightmares. That’s all,” Harry finally answered, still looking down at the floor.

“Harry, look at me,” Hermione pleaded. He didn’t want to; he was afraid…afraid that if those chocolate eyes locked with his one more time, he wouldn’t be able to hold back all the things he wanted to tell her and knew he couldn’t.

Harry jerked slightly when he felt her hand touch his face. Hermione put her hand under his chin and tilted it, gently coaxing him to look at her.

He felt like soon he would be reaching the point of no return.

“What did you see, Harry?” Hermione whispered softly, the way a loving mother would speak to a frightened child. Again, that feeling that had come over Harry when he was crying on Hermione’s arms on the hallway of Divination washed over him, that feeling that told him that everything was okay with the world and that he was safe and sound as long as she was with him, came over him.

And before he could think twice, Harry said, “I don’t remember what I dreamt about during Transfiguration…I just remember feeling cold, as if I had just gone skinny dipping on the lake on Christmas morning. Scratch that…the cold was more biting than that…I could feel it jarring my bones…getting into my skull….”

The hand that was holding on to his hand tightened, and her other hand traveled from his chin to his cheek, her thumb tracing the edge of his face soothingly.

‘She’ll make it better. She always makes it better.’

Harry continued, his voice never rising from a whisper, “And today…I saw a starless night. And then the moon…the moon turned the color of blood…and blood started raining down…and the earth opened up and swallowed me…I could feel the blood on my face…on my eyes…I could taste in my mouth…and I couldn’t breathe…I couldn’t breathe, Hermione…I couldn’t….”

Hermione’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and Harry found himself choking on his words. He didn’t need to finish the sentence though. Hermione closed the distance, enveloping him in a crushing embrace. Harry let his arms slowly travel around her shoulders, and he crushed her body against his, holding onto her as if Hermione was the only lifeline he had on this world.

Still holding Harry, Hermione whispered, “I’m so sorry, Harry. That must have been horrible.” Harry allowed one of his hands to travel from her shoulders, down her back and settled on her waist.

The moment he had started telling her what he had seen, the memory of the coldness came back. Again, he had felt that dreaded cold in his very bones. But the contact with her body filled him with much needed warmth, and it intoxicated him.

“Harry, I know I don’t know what it’s like to be the Boy-Who-Lived. But you have always been plagued with nightmares…and ninety percent of the time, they mean more than meets the eye. Remember the snake’s attack on Mr. Weasley? And the dreams you had about the Department of Mysteries? What if this is like that?” Hermione continued, speaking rapidly, her voice thick with dread.

The tables had turned for Harry. Now, instead of wanting her to make him feel safe, the only thing he wanted was for Hermione not to be scared. Harry leaned back just enough so he could look at her eyes.

“Don’t think that, Hermione. I’m sure they were just bad dreams,” Harry tried to reassure her, taking her face in his hands with as much gentleness as a boy of seventeen was capable of.

‘How can you say that? You weren’t even asleep during Divination and you know it. And what about what Firenze said? About something lunaris being an omen of destruction.…’

Harry considered telling her this, but he immediately decided against it when he felt the wetness of a tear on one of the hands that was cupping her face.

“How’s your Occlumency?” Hermione said as Harry gently wiped away the trail that the tear had left on her cheek.

“Not that good,” Harry admitted truthfully.

It wasn’t easy for Harry to clear his mind and empty his emotions when the potion was making the brown haired girl with the warm smile the most prominent thought in his head during all his waking hours.

'It doesn't help that you are touching her every opportunity you get.'

He slowly lowered his hands from her face, missing the warmth in the pit of his stomach as soon as he broke the contact. He managed to give her a small reassuring smile; but Hermione looked crestfallen, probably expecting that after two years of Occlumency lessons Harry might have mastered the art.

“Harry, promise me you are going to tell Dumbledore!” Hermione suddenly pleaded. Harry sighed and looked away; speaking to Dumbledore was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Look at me,” Hermione issued the quiet order for the second time that night.

‘Don’t look at her…don’t look at her…you know you won’t be able to say no if you look at her….’

He felt her hand grip his bare arm, skin against skin as her nails dug slightly into his flesh. He felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, and was tempted to just make a run for it and take another cold shower before continuing this conversation.

‘DON’T LOOK AT HER! DON’T LOOK AT HER! DON’T…!’

“Harry.”

Harry’s eyes found hers in an instant.

‘Wuss.’

‘Oh, shut up!’

Hermione’s eyes left no doubt that “no” was not an acceptable answer.

“Alright, alright! I promise I’ll tell Dumbledore tomorrow,” Harry said, utterly defeated in the battle of the wills.

‘Grow a backbone, will ya?’

It was almost worth it when she hugged him again. This time, he didn’t dare to put her arms around her. He didn’t trust himself to resist the urge to find out what her lip-gloss tasted like.

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered, the relief evident in her voice. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his shoulder, a small smile on her lips.

“No, Mione. Thank you,” Harry said with honesty, fighting the desire to bury his face in the crook of her neck. Hermione let go of him and resumed her original position, leaning against the wall a few meters away from the door to her common room.

“So, are we okay?” Harry asked, searching her eyes for any signal that she was still angry with him. He found worry there…a bit of disappointment too…love, maybe? He wished. But anger? It was gone. Poof. Like magic.

Hermione smiled at him again, saying, “Yes, we are okay.” As an afterthought, she added, “It would take much more for us not to be okay.”

“This was almost worth it. After all, how many times have I heard you say the f-word?” Harry smirked, feeling once more completely at ease with Hermione. This was, after all, his best mate, his buddy, his pal.

‘And you want to ruin this by falling in love with her?’

‘YES!’

‘I said shut up!’

Hermione scrunched her face in such a way that made Harry laugh out loud. She had such a cute button nose when she did that.

“You are not going to tell anyone about that, are you?” she asked, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Harry shook his head airily and said “Of course, not…I’m going to wait till I can use it to blackmail you.”

Hermione punched him in the stomach as a joke. “I swear you can be worst than Ron,” she said.

Before Harry could realize what he was going to do, he took the hand that she had used to punch him and lift it to his lips, kissing her knuckles, saying “Oh, but that’s what you love about me.”

For a moment, he could have sworn he saw something flash across Hermione’s eyes, some primal and forbidden emotion he had never noticed before. It was gone almost as soon as it came, and Harry would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking directly into her eyes.

‘You don’t think that…?’

“Well, I better go back. I was about to go to bed when you came,” Hermione said with a sigh, looking at the door to her common room with eagerness.

‘Is it me or is she’s trying to avoid looking at me?’

“Unless you want to come in,” Hermione offered absently. Harry was about to grin like a maniac, thinking that it would be so nice to sit near a warm fire on a comfortable couch talking to his best friend like in old times (because this week seemed to have lasted an eternity), when he suddenly remembered that they were not going to be alone.

‘That slimy cockroach’

When Hermione finally looked at him, he managed to smile tiredly and say, “Maybe another day.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Hermione said, squeezing the hand that was still holding onto hers. Hermione started to walk away toward the door, but her hand didn’t let go of Harry’s and Harry didn’t let go of her hand either, and he didn’t make a move to follow her.

The truth was Harry didn’t want to see her go. He didn’t want to think about what may be waiting for her on the other side of the door.

Hermione let go of his hand, but he still held to hers until she couldn’t keep walking. Her arm outstretched and still linked with Harry, Hermione looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were unreadable from this distance, but Harry knew what she must be seeing right now.

A lost boy who had gotten in way over his head.

“Do you have something else you want to tell me?” Hermione whispered, the tone of her voice unusual even to Harry’s ears.

‘Tell her what’s happening. Tell her how you feel!’

‘I don’t feel anything! It’s the potion!’

‘Tell her! Don’t let her go back to her room without her knowing.’

‘It would be selfish of me! When I find the antidote, I won’t be in love with her anymore.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘Just shut up!’

‘Tell her then!’

‘No’

‘TELL HER!’

“No,” Harry whispered softly, letting go of Hermione’s hand. He watched her as she turned around and walked away.

She pushed her door open and said, “Goodnight, Harry,” without looking back at him.

“Sweet dreams, Mione,” Harry said, hoping his voice didn’t betray the sudden pain he felt in his chest. He could see Roger standing next to the door, as if he had been eavesdropping on them this whole time. Hermione finally walked inside.

It was as if time itself wanted to stop for Harry…the door was closing in a speed that could only be described as painfully slow. Still looking inside the Head Boy/Girl common room through the open door, Harry saw Roger step closer to Hermione and whisper something in her. Hermione looked down at the floor and nodded at Roger.

And then Roger did something that made Harry feel as cold as he had felt in his dream.

Roger gently touched Hermione’s cheek…and made her smile.

Harry could have sworn he saw Roger look up and give him a triumphant smile before the door close completely.

He couldn’t bring himself to move for a couple of minutes. He just stared at the door, wondering about what might be happening on the other side. Did Roger have his arms around her tiny waist? Was she running her fingers through his blonde hair like she did with Harry’s? Did she grip his shirt the way she did Harry’s and pull him toward her?

Was she resting her head in the crook of his neck, tickling his skin with her breath? Was Roger lowering his head and brushing his lips against hers?

Could he know already what her lips tasted like?

Harry then remembered the question Ron had asked him earlier in their dorm.

‘ ”How can you be so sure Hermione is not in love with you?” ’

‘I guess I already have the answer to that one.’

‘Where am I?’

Harry slowly opened his eyes, feeling heavy and somewhat woozy. The last thing he remembered was reaching his room after his conversation with Hermione. Seamus and Dean had been playing a game of Wizard Chess, Neville was reading a book on Advanced Herbology, and Ron was already snoring, tangled in his bed sheets. Harry slipped into bed, wishing the day would end as only a person with a broken heart would wish.

But when he opened his eyes, Harry found he was not in his room, but rather, he was standing inside the Great Hall, next to the entrance. Harry turned around and tried to push the heavy doors open, but they didn’t budge an inch.

Turning his attention back to the room, he took a good look at the Great Hall. It was almost pitch black, but he instinctively knew that the usual house tables and chairs were nowhere to be found. The only sound that reached his ears was his own steady breathing.

He started walking toward the other end of the Hall, toward the area where the staff tables usually lay. With every step he took, the temperature inside the room dropped dramatically, until he could actually see the mist of every breath he exhaled.

He could feel the increasing cold jarring his bones, piercing his skull, burning his scar, but he couldn’t stop walking. It was as if he was in autopilot, not knowing his final destination.

And then, Harry saw it. It was just hovering in the air in the middle of the staff area…a glowing crimson orb. It was petite, no bigger than a baseball, with deep rune markings all around.

It was calling him.

At first, it was almost imperceptible, like the sound the breeze made against the leaves on a spring day. Then it grew louder, like the rising wind of a stormy night. Now, Harry thought he could actually hear voices in that raging wind.

“Come.”

He kept walking, with each step growing closer and closer to the orb.

“Come to us.”

Just then, Harry noticed that with every step he took, the light coming from the orb grew stronger. He was standing so close now that the light washed over him, bathing him in red glow.

He stretched his arm… just two feet more and he would be able to touch it. It was a strange sensation… half of his mind was telling him to turn around and run and scream for help… and the other half was telling him that as soon as he touched the orb, everything would be all right.

No more cold…no more darkness.

“Come to us, Harry.”

Just a few more inches.

The light coming from the orb was so strong it was blinding him, and even then he found he couldn’t close his eyes. Instinctively, Harry knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop, even if he wanted to.

It was too late.

He felt his outstretched fingers touch the glowing orb and gasped. It was a thousand times colder than ice, so cold that the moment he touched the orb he felt his arm go numb. The numbness spread like a snake from his arm, to his chest, his face, his stomach, his legs…

‘This is the end.’

There was no time to scream.

The orb had consumed him.

--------------------------

Thursday, October 30th

Harry woke up abruptly, sitting on the bed with a jolt. He was bathed in cold sweat, the sheets tangled on his legs.

‘Breathe… just breathe…’

He closed his eyes and took a series of long, deep breaths. He felt as if his lungs were burning; his heart was beating so hard inside his chest he thought his ribs were going to be cracked at any moment. And his scar… his scar was on fire.

‘It was just a nightmare…’

But was it? What if Firenze was right? What if Harry had been chosen by The-Powers-that-Be as the one who would have a revelation?

Whatever it was that the universe was trying to tell him, Harry had no idea.

What he knew was that The Powers that Be had picked one hell of a week to mess with him.

He got out of the bed and left the dormitory, grateful that his nightmare had not woken up his roommates.

Harry wanted—needed—to be alone.

Automatically, he walked toward the only window in the Gryffindor common room. The window ledge was just big enough for him to fit, and he pushed himself up and sat on the ledge, leaning back against the wall so he could look outside.

The sun was coming, the first light already peeking behind the mountains to the east. Harry hugged his knees close to his body, still feeling the coldness from the dream in his skin.

What was going on? He knew he had experienced revealing dreams before, and that the source of his dreams was his dreaded archrival, Lord Voldemort.

One thing he knew was that Voldemort was not the source of these dreams. He didn’t know why he knew; it wasn’t like he had any proof. But something deep inside of him knew that the Dark Lord was not the answer this time.

The one person he needed now more than ever was the one person that he would probably have to do without.

“Hermione.”

Even saying her name made his heart ache. He closed his eyes, remembering the look of triumph in Roger’s face when Hermione had smiled at him. Harry didn’t know why he ached so much… it wasn’t as if he had ever had a chance to be the one to make her smile like that.

He had lost the war before he could fight a single battle.

Harry wondered briefly what might have happened in that room behind closed doors.

‘Stop that.’

He ran his fingers through his raven hair in frustration and opened his eyes. The sun was now coming from behind the mountains. Harry intuitively knew it was going to be a beautiful day… not too warm, not too cold… without one wisp of cloud to mar the perfect sky.

He was going to hate it.

Harry spent the next hour looking out the window, trying to push the memories of the nightmares out of his head. He had been quite successful. But he wasn’t as successful in trying to push Hermione out of his head.

‘Is this what it feels to be in love?’

“You are not in love with Hermione,” Harry whispered out loud. What could he do to make his heart understand that? It was the potion… it was ONLY the potion. Hermione was his best friend… nothing more!

But what did he really know about being in love? After all, he had a mild infatuation with Cho Chang in his Fifth Year (alright, his Fourth Year also…what a waste of time that was). He didn’t know if he should count his “date” with Ginny on Hogsmeade, where after an hour of being alone with him, Ginny had told him it would be better if they were to remain just friends (something which he agreed on 100…but it still hurt a bit).

The truth was Harry knew as much about love as he knew about Arithmancy. He had a vague idea of what it was, but did he understand it?

Not at all.

Before the sun could fully appear, Harry sneaked back into his room, careful not to wake his friends. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast the day before, and his stomach was already rebelling against him. He decided that the best he could do was to get something to eat.

After a quick shower and a much-called-for date with the shaving razor, Harry dressed in his school uniform and walked toward the Great Hall. The hallways were deserted, as they usually were at 6 in the morning. Harry actually enjoyed the silence. He didn’t felt like answering questions about what happened yesterday in Firenze’s class, especially on an empty stomach.

When Harry reached the Great Hall, there was a sense of déjà vu that left him paralyzed for a second. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Harry remembered the burning cold spreading from his hand throughout his body, that feeling that your body was dying faster than your mind could register. He felt the pull of the orb as it swallowed him whole, and that sensation of knowing that there was nothing else beyond the void.

But when he opened his eyes, Harry found the Great Hall the same way it was every morning. All the house tables were ready to receive the students, and there was no strange hovering orb at the other end.

Feeling less hungry than he had been two minutes ago, Harry walked toward the Gryffindor table and sat down. As soon as he did, a tray with bread, butter, cereal, fruit and pumpkin juice appeared next to him.

It wasn’t until Harry was buttering his third slice of bread that the other students started coming into the Great Hall. The Hufflepuffs, being the most reliable group in the school, were the first ones to fill their table. Soon joined the Ravenclaws, who talked excitedly about the coming ball.

The Slytherins started pouring in too. Most of them whispered snide comments when they passed by Harry’s side, laughing amongst themselves at the latest rumors concerning the Boy-Who-Lived. He could ignore them well; they didn’t know how to push his buttons. He just hoped Malfoy and his goons would have a case of the runs this morning, because he was definitely not in the mood for them.

Soon Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati came, joining Harry at the table. They were polite to him, making casual conversation, but after six years Harry knew them enough to know they were very concerned about what they had witnessed on Divination the day before. One thing he was grateful for was that his friends seemed as reluctant to talk about it as he was.

Before Harry could make an exit though, Ginny and Neville came inside. Ginny seemed so happy to see Harry that he didn’t have the heart to avoid them again. Ginny gave him a quick hug when she reached his side, and she and Neville squeezed themselves next to Harry.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” Ginny asked.

Harry forced himself to smile and say, “Better. Much better.”

“Neville told me what happened in Firenze’s class,” Ginny said quietly.

Harry threw a look to Neville that made the round-faced boy turn the color of his girlfriend’s hair. Finally, “It was just a bad dream.”

“Are you under a lot of stress? Aside from the normal ‘The most powerful dark wizard there ever was has a beef with me since I was born’ stress, that is,” Ginny asked.

Harry frowned. Was it just his impression or was Ginny unusually interest in the subject of his emotional state?

“I’ve had a lot of things on my mind… that’s all,” Harry said with a lacking smile. He could have sworn Ginny and Neville shared a very conspiratorial look when they heard his answer.

“I can imagine,” was the only reply he got from Neville.

“So,” Ginny started as she chewed hungrily on some passion fruit, “what do you think about me and Neville?”

Harry almost choked on his pumpkin juice. Was Ginny asking for his opinion in the love department? Didn’t she know how bad he was when it came to relationships?

“Oh, don’t give me that look. You know I care about what you think as much as I care what my brothers’ think. Ron already gave me his opinion. Now I want yours,” Ginny continued candidly. Neville was looking at him over Ginny’s shoulder with an almost nervous expression. Harry had never realized that his opinion actually mattered to Ginny, but he had no doubt that Neville’s expression confirmed exactly that.

He gave Neville an appraising look, and found himself smiling genuinely for the first time that morning. Neville was honest, kind-hearted, and courageous. He had experienced almost as much heartache in his life as Harry had. If there was anyone who really deserved to be happy, it was Neville.

“I couldn’t be happier for you two,” Harry said with sincerity, giving them another quiet smile. Neville exhaled loudly and put his arms around Ginny’s shoulders, as Ginny mouthed a “thank you” to Harry.

Ron and Luna soon appeared by the entrance to the hall. Ron looked around, and smiled softly when he chanced upon Harry. He walked Luna to her table and quickly ran to the Gryffindor table, taking the empty chair next to Harry.

“How are you, mate?” Ron asked as soon as he sat down.

“Better than expected,” Harry lied. Thankfully, Ron could not read his emotions like Hermione could.

“Did you speak with Hermione last night?” Ron whispered, leaning closer. Harry chuckled dryly; Ron was so concerned about the Hermione issue that he had not touched the food in the trays in front of him. This was definitely a new record for the redhead.

“Yes, I did,” Harry answered, sipping some of the already-warm pumpkin juice.

“AND?” Ron asked, getting annoyed at Harry’s nipping of relevant information.

Harry licked his lips clean before answering, “Nothing… I apologized… she forgave me… we…” Harry looked at Ron out of the corner of his eye and thought about telling him about the nightmares, but he suddenly realized it would be counterproductive. He didn’t want to have another person worryingly incessantly over him.

“We talked and… she says everything’s good between us,”’ Harry said, taking the tray with the bacon and passing it to Ron in an attempt at not-so-subliminal hinting to stop talking and start eating. Ron took the bait, quickly pouring a generous helping of bacon into his plate.

For the next five minutes, Harry discussed Quiddith with Neville and Ginny, right up until Ron whispered with his mouth still full, “Did you tell her?”

Harry didn’t quite grasp the meaning of the question. “Tell her what?” he asked, turning his attention away from Ginny and Neville.

“That you are in love with her,” Ron said, his voice dropping low. Harry looked at Ron as if his face had just turned purple.

“Are you bloody insane? I can’t tell her how I feel!” Harry whispered angrily. He groaned when he realized what he had said. Ron gave his friend a cheeky smile, and was about to make what was probably going to be a very inappropriate comment when Harry cut him off.

“You know what I mean, Ron. I can’t tell her about the Potion…it’s too…embarrassing. Besides, it would make her too uncomfortable and…well, it would get too weird…,” Harry whispered, hoping Ginny was so engrossed in her conversation with Neville to overhear them.

‘Especially when Roger is hanging all over her.’

Harry sighed. That’s one thing he didn’t want to remember…how she had smiled shyly up at Roger when he had touched her cheek…and how Roger had taken a step toward Hermione just before the door closed.

‘Where is she?’

Harry looked at the entrance hall, unsure of what he was actually feeling. It was like half of him wanted nothing more than to make a run for the doors before Hermione came, and the other half couldn’t wait to see her in the morning light.

Harry didn’t noticed when Luna walked toward them and sat next to Ron and asked, “Has Hermione’s Daily Prophet come in yet?”

“No. You want to read it? I thought you said it was rubbish,” Ron said casually, chewing loudly on a juicy sausage.

“I do think it’s rubbish. But the news about the missing artifact seemed interesting. I owled Dad yesterday for more information, but I haven’t received his answer yet,” Luna answered as she started playing with Ron’s hair, the dreamy expression in her face masking her cunning intelligence.

“There she is,” Harry said a little too happily when he caught sight of Hermione at the entrance…by herself. But the smile soon faded when Roger appeared a second later, giving Hermione a dimpled smile and putting his hand on the small of her back. She smiled gently up at him and let him guide her toward the house tables.

The Ravenclaws’ table came first, so when they reached Roger’s table Hermione and her companion stopped. Roger leaned to her and whispered something in her ear. Harry watched as Hermione shook her head, the auburn locks flying all over the place, and gave an apologetic smile to Roger.

Roger pouted slightly, but soon winked at her and sat down at the head of the table, all his fellow housemates greeting him as if the King of England had decided to drop by for breakfast.

Harry searched his brain to see if he knew of any spell that could make Roger’s teeth rot and fall out.

Before he knew it, Hermione had already reached his side. “Good morning, everyone!” she said cheerily, taking the seat in front of Harry and greedily grabbing the two remaining slices of toast in the tray.

She didn’t even bother to butter her toast, choosing to take a big bite out of one of the slices in a very Ron-like manner. When she raised her eyes and noticed the shocked expressions in her friends’ faces, she mumbled with her mouth still full a rather deadpan “What?”

“Quite an appetite today, eh?” Ron said. Lavender and Parvati managed to overhear them as they walked behind Hermione. They winked at each other, a malicious glint evident in their eyes.

“Leave Hermione alone, Ron. She probably needs to replenish all the energy she exhausted last night,” Lavender said, winking mischievously at Ron and Harry as they kept walking toward the entrance.

‘Hags!’

“What was that all about?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrow, swallowing her last bit of toast and reaching for the bacon before the Ron and the rest of her friends mumbled various “I don’t know” “have no idea” “insane mumblings” and anything else that might avoid them having to explain to Hermione the dirty implications of Lavender’s words.

‘They can’t be right, can they?’

“Anyway, Harry was right. I haven’t been eating well these last few days,” Hermione continued casually, drinking from her pumpkin juice glass. The sound of wings flapping nearby alerted them to the morning owl post.

A young tawny owl stopped in front of Hermione, dropping the newest edition of the Daily Prophet before flying away. “Can I see this?” Luna asked, nudging the newspaper with her finger. Hermione nodded absently, and Luna quickly grabbed the newspaper and started reading the front page, her face disappearing behind the magazine.

Hermione gave Ron a questioning look; nobody had any misunderstanding about how Luna felt about the Daily Prophet’s reporting skills. Ron just shrugged, saying, “She’s nosing about the stolen thingy in Berlin.” Hermione’s eyes suddenly sparkled with interest.

‘I love how she looks when she’s curious.’

‘No, you don’t! Stop thinking that!’

“The artifact! Oh, I forgot about that! Any news, Luna?” Hermione asked her best friend’s girlfriend.

“Well, there’s a small article about it, but there’s no new information about the artifact… although there’s something strange concerning a security guard,” Luna said, placing the newspaper back on the table and pointing it at the third panel of the main page.

Under the title “Ministry in Trouble”, there was a picture of a foreign looking wizard with a caption of “Till Linderman, Ministry of Magic, Berlin.”

Harry watched Hermione distractedly as she read the article out loud.

-------------------

Ministry in Trouble
By Megara Blackflower

The enigma of the missing magical artifact from the Museum of Berlin keeps getting more mysterious as the local Ministry of Magic office releases new information pertaining to the case.

There are no records about the artifact, which the Ministry of Magic still refuse to identify to the general public, being loaned to the Museum for their “Myths of the Dead from the Middle Ages” exhibition. In fact, as official records show, the artifact is supposed to be housed in the Ministry offices and its extraction consists an illegal and dangerous action.

A parallel investigation has been opened in order to find how the artifact was taken from the Ministry of Magic offices without the appropriate permissions.

There are rumors that the brightest minds in the magical community have been called by the Ministry of Magic to help in locating this artifact, but at the moment, these rumors are still unconfirmed.

In what could be related news, 43-year-old Frank Potente, who worked as a museum security guard for the last 13 years, was found dead in his apartment late last night. No official information about the cause of death, time of death, or if it might be related to the theft of the artifact has been released.

When this reporter questioned Till Linderman about Mr. Potente, the liaison between the Berlin and London Ministry of Magic offices, the only answered I received was “No comment.”

The Prophet promises our readers that we will not rest until we find what the Ministry seems to be hiding.

-------------------

“13 years…13 wasn’t a lucky number for poor Frank,” Ron said with a slight chuckle. He quickly sobered when Hermione glared at him.

“A missing artifact and a dead guard? I think that’s too much coincidence for my liking,” Neville said to Hermione as Ginny wiped some watermelon drops from his cheek.

“I agree,” Hermione nodded, “there’s something fishy with this.” She looked up at Harry to find him staring right at her with a rather wistful expression on his face. Thinking that Harry was lost in his thoughts about the newspaper article, Hermione asked, “What do you think Harry?”

Harry shook his head slightly, as if waking up from a dream, and blurted exactly what had been floating in his head at that moment.

“I think you are amazing.”

Hermione frowned, Ron choke on his juice, Luna sighed rather dramatically, Ginny and Neville stifled a laugh, and Harry clenched his fists under the table when he realized what he had just said out loud.

‘Great, Mr. Smooth! Just great! Why don’t you leave your foot in your mouth and save you the trouble?’

“What did you say, Harry?” Hermione asked, sure she had not heard correctly.

“Oh, that… I think you are right. Something’s definitely fishy with the…the…the thingy,” Harry corrected, doing his best to save face. As judged by the small “O” that Hermione’s lips formed, she was satisfied with the answered.

Harry stepped on a foot that belonged to Ron, who was now snickering at Harry’s slip of the tongue. Hermione was once again busy with her food as Ginny reached over the table and grabbed the newspaper away from Hermione.

“Oh, I don’t know why you insist on reading this. As if we didn’t have enough bad news to deal with in our lives,” Ginny said good-naturedly. She flipped the newspaper and an article on the last page seemingly grabbed her attention.

“WHAT?” Ginny screamed in alarm. Everyone in the Great Hall turned their heads to look at the youngest Weasley, but only her closest friends leaned toward her and looked over her shoulders to find what had captured her attention.

-------------

A Close Call
By Paolo The Fabulous

The Weird Sisters, the most successful wizarding musical trio of the century, were involved in a strange incident in Belgium’s The Pit last night after finishing their presentation.

According to the three musicians, three fans entered their dressing rooms after the show and demanded to take pictures with them. The girls complied, fearing for their safety. After the pictures were taken, the rabid fans demanded that the girls apparated with them back to their hotel rooms.

It was then that Tori, the group’s lead singer, summoned her wand and hexed her attacker as the other two girls managed to free themselves from their fans. When club security opened the magically sealed door, this talented trio had already stunned their attackers senseless.

“I think this was a good thing. We were a bit to lax with security and this showed us we need to be more careful in the future because we don’t know who might be out there to get us,” Alanis, the most sensible of the group said.

“Oh, this was so exciting! I’ve already written a song about the incident. You can find it on our next album!” squealed Fiona, the drummer.

“There’s a moral to this story. DON’T MESS WITH THE WEIRD SISTERS!” Tori said, offering her trademark middle-finger pose to the adoring fans waiting outside.

This reporter was assured that this incident would not affect their future concert dates.”

------------

“Oh, this is tragic!” Ginny huffed, putting the newspaper down. Everyone knew how passionately Ginny felt about her favorite musical group.

“I didn’t even know this thing had an Entertainment section,” Neville said in wonder as he grabbed the newspaper and passed it back to Hermione.

“Well, at least this won’t affect Friday’s plans,” Hermione said absently. She winced as soon as the words left her mouth.

“WHAT PLANS?” Ginny screamed excitedly, her brown eyes wide with shock.

“Shh! Lower your voice, Gin! No one’s supposed to know!” Hermione whispered, leaning closer to Ginny.

“No one’s supposed to know what?” Luna asked, her curiosity peaked by Hermione’s embarrassed expression.

“Oh, I’m just going to say it…but you can’t tell anybody because this was supposed to be a surprise. Agreed?” Hermione asked. Everyone but Harry nodded in agreement. He was too distracted by the chocolate curl that kept falling over her cheek to hear what she was saying.

“The Weird Sisters are the surprise musical guest on the Halloween Ball. It was Dumbledore’s idea…he’s a fan,” Hermione whispered. Harry had to clamp his hand over Ginny’s mouth to shut the squealing.

“Calm down, Ginny. I think you’ve busted my eardrum,” Harry whispered as he let go of Ginny’s mouth. Ginny turned excitedly toward Neville and started talking about rehearsing dance moves for her favorite songs. Neville looked at Harry like a deer caught in headlights.

“Are you okay? You are awfully quiet,” Hermione asked Harry with a worried expression.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry whispered, trying to manage a smile but failing.

“Harry, you have a date yet?” Ginny asked with girlish abandon. The sudden change in subject just added more confusion to Harry’s already befuddled psyche.

“A date? For what?” Harry asked Ginny. Ginny sighed, the expression on her face changing from excitement to maddeningly patient, as if she had just realized she was speaking to a child.

“For the Halloween Ball, Harry. You remember? Tomorrow night!” Ginny answered Harry, shaking her head, showing her disappointment at his obvious indifference.

“I’m not going to the ball, Ginny. Ipso facto, I don’t need a date,” Harry answered, trying to hide his annoyance at the question behind his irritatingly casual tone.

“What do you mean you are not going? Harry, this is your last year at Hogwarts! Surely you don’t want to miss this,” Luna said, looking at Ron in search for support. Ron was too busy chewing his pancakes, and it wasn’t until Luna slapped him in the back of the head that he looked at Harry and said something like “Una a’ight’”

But it was Hermione’s expression that made Harry’s stomach do violent summersaults. It was almost… almost as if she suspected… that she was the reason why.

‘Merlin, you have to do something! Say something!’

“You mean why I want to miss having to dress up, ask a girl I probably can’t stand out, dance on each other’s toes all night… when I’d rather be doing anything else? Because I think the whole ball thing is just stupid,” Harry answered without really thinking about it before it came out of his mouth.

‘Anything but that, you idiot!’

Harry realized his mistake as soon as he caught sight of the shocked expression on his friends’ faces…especially Hermione’s.

“I’ll see you later in class,” Hermione said briskly, standing up with such speed that her chair screeched loudly. Harry didn’t know if Hermione was angry or just hurt, but her chocolate eyes were unusually shiny. She walked toward the exit before any of them could say anything.

Harry slapped himself in the forehead as Ron whispered angrily, “What the hell did you do that for? You know she’s been working hard on this whole Halloween thing!”

“Because I’m a git,” Harry answered, getting up from his chair and hastily following Hermione out of the Great Hall. Luckily, Roger was so busy recounting his latest Quidditch victory to his groupies to notice Hermione’s departure.

He wasn’t as lucky when he found Malfoy and his goons standing by the entrance. Malfoy was behaving rather oddly that morning, for he barely looked at Harry as he whispered, “Fighting with the girlfriend, Potty?”

“That line is getting old, Malfoy. Do us all a favor and get a new one,” Harry mumbled bitterly, looking to his right to find Hermione at the end of the hallway.

Hermione had turned around the corner toward their first class when Harry finally managed to catch up with her. That girl could really walk! “Hermione, wait!” he said breathlessly as he jogged to her side.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned toward him, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “What is it, Harry?” she snapped impatiently.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to say that I thought the Halloween Ball was stupid,” he blurted.

Hermione looked at him in astonishment, and hissed, “That was exactly what you said!”

“I know, but I didn’t mean it! It’s just…it’s just,” Harry stuttered, nervously running his hands thru his hair.

“Just WHAT?” Hermione demanded, throwing her hands up in the air as if asking the superior forces to help her understand her friend.

“That I don’t want everyone to know I’m not going because I can’t find a date,” Harry said in defeat. He tried to rake his brain for the memory of another moment where he had sounded as pathetic as he had just sounded. He came out with none.

Hermione’s expression softened instantaneously. “Oh, Harry… that’s not so bad. I’m sure there are dozens of girls who’d die to go with you,” she whispered, taking a step toward him and resting her hand on his forearm.

‘Why aren’t you one of them?’

Harry gulped.

“There’s only one girl I want to go with…and she’s taken,” Harry said before he could stop himself, utterly entranced by the way she clutched possessively to his arm. He remembered the night before, when Hermione had taken a hold of his shirt and her nails had raked his stomach with her nails in exquisite torture, and a violent tremor ran through him.

Hermione didn’t make the association, as judged by the way she sighed before she added, “I’m sure it’s her loss.”

“Yeah,” Harry said absently, lowering his head until his eyes fell on the floor. Contradictory thoughts assaulted his head: in one hand, the heat that spread through his body at her chaste contact was intoxicating, and on the other hand, he was so afraid she was going to see through his charade that he wished he were anywhere but here.

He looked up when he felt her fingers brush against his forehead, moving his unruly hair away from his scar. Harry’s eyes locked momentarily with Hermione’s and his heart skipped a beat. There was so much emotion in those brown eyes, emotions he couldn’t identify… much less understand. But they were gone as soon as Hermione noticed he was looking at her, and her attention focused on the area she was touching.

“Well, the bump is gone,” Hermione said, referring to Harry’s first injury when he crashed in the library.

“What can I say? Madame Pomfrey’s the best,” Harry said in an attempt to be lighthearted, not wanting to betray the fact that her touch made his nerves stand on end. Hermione stopped tracing the scar with her finger and tucked her hands back inside her robes in an unusually anxious gesture.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Hermione added as an afterthought. Harry knew that it was her way of asking, “Did you have any more nightmare/visions I should worry endlessly about?”

“Like a baby,” Harry lied, mustering a half-hearted smile. The dream had haunted him all morning. Now that he had managed to push it out of his mind for more mundane thoughts appropriate for a 17-year-old male (but equally scary), he wasn’t about to bring it back.

Not, at least, till he speaks with Dumbledore.

Hermione didn’t look convinced, but decided the morning had been troublesome enough without pressing the subject any further. “When are you going to talk to Dumbledore?” she asked curiously. Harry smiled sadly; only Hermione could pinpoint exactly what he had been thinking about.

“There are at least 15 minutes till class starts. I think I’ll wait for him outside the Great Hall so I can talk to him as soon as possible,” Harry said, very conscious of his promise to Hermione last night.

“You better try his office. He wasn’t in the Great Hall during breakfast,” Hermione informed him. Harry frowned slightly. It was true that he hadn’t actually looked for Dumbledore in the staff table that morning, but he thought he didn’t have to. He couldn’t think of a single day Dumbledore hadn’t joined his students for breakfast.

“I guess I better try his office then,” Harry said. He was going to ask ‘Do you want to go with me?’ but he proved to be too slow to ever get a chance.

“There you are!” a voice boomed from the other end of the hallway. Harry and Hermione turned their heads simultaneously to find Roger Davies jogging toward them. He beamed when he reached Hermione’s side, and again placed his hand on the small of her back.

Harry didn’t catch Hermione’s embarrassed expression, because all his energy was focused on trying to perform a little wandless magic that would make Roger’s perfect set of blonde hair go up in flames.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Peeves just flooded Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. We need to get there right away,” Roger said in a honey-coated voice. The kid had the uncanny ability of talking about toilets with the same charm that someone used when talking about poetry classics.

“Right. I’ll see you later, Harry,” Hermione nodded, her eyes avoiding Harry’s, her cheeks slightly flushed. She finally turned around and, with Roger’s hand still firmly tucked in the small of her back, started walking away.

Roger looked over his shoulder and winked at Harry before turning his attention back to Hermione. Harry couldn’t scream at Roger to go eff himself, he certainly couldn’t take his wand and hex him with Hermione standing so close, and he definitely couldn’t cry like the big baby he was.

So he gave Roger the international “hope your dick falls off” signal by proudly showing him his middle finger.

‘Really courageous of you to flip someone behind the back, Potter. Really brave.’

Harry decided to forget about hurting Roger until after his little talk with Dumbledore.

-------------------

Meanwhile…


Luna, Ron, Ginny and Neville watched with their mouths open as Harry ran out of the Great Hall in an attempt to catch up with Hermione.

“And I thought you were an insensitive jerk when you spoke to girls… was I wrong,” Ginny said to Ron with a sarcastic smile. Ron glared at his little sister, but spared Ginny from the expletives he wanted to release when he Luna’s fingers started twirling his hair. That was Ron’s Achilles’ heel.

“I think we need to do something for Harry,” Neville suddenly spoke up. Ginny, Ron and Luna turned their heads to look at Neville. Neville was seemingly lost in thought, his finger tapping rhythmically the empty glass in front of him.

“Harry’s obviously stressed out. I mean…not only with this whole love potion situation, but with what happened in Transfiguration and in Firenze’s class yesterday…and I know he had another nightmare this morning…I just…I think we need to do something for him…to make him forget all the negative things, even if it’s just for a moment…so he can realize what he feels for Hermione, potion or not,” Neville finished, still tapping the glass absently.

The other three openly gaped at him, surprised that the ultra-shy, absent-minded boy could provide the solution to their problem with such ease. Neville finally stopped his tapping and looked at his friends, suddenly nervous to find them staring at him. “W-w-hat is it?” Neville stuttered.

“I think I love you more now than I did this morning,” Ginny said truthfully, squeezing Neville’s hand under the table. Neville’s cheeks went bright red, and a shy smile came over his features as Ginny leaned in and brushed his lips gently over his. Ron groaned, and Luna had to pinch his butt cheek to stop him from pushing Neville away from Ginny.

“Alright, alright…before you two lovebirds make me sick,” Ron interrupted, his ears as red as Neville’s cheeks, “I think we need to plan out exactly what we are going to do for Harry that will make him all happy-go-lucky.”

Neville, Ginny and Ron threw some ideas out…Ginny’s idea involved chocolates, Neville’s idea involved flowers, and Ron’s idea involved Dean’s dirty magazines. It wasn’t until Luna coughed loudly that they turned their attention to her.

“What is it, darling?” Ron asked. Luna had a playful smile on her lips as she leaned toward her three conspirators.

“My dears, I think you are forgetting just who Harry Potter is…and what’s the one thing that has the ability to make him forget every little trouble of his in the world?”

Harry walked unhurriedly down the hallways, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, looking down at the floor without paying much attention to where he was going. After all, he was probably the student most familiar with the way to Dumbledore’s chambers having visited the old man more times that he cared to count since his first year at Hogwarts.

What he couldn’t stop thinking about was Hermione and Roger. He knew it was stupid of him to even care that she was dating someone he wasn’t particularly fond of (ok, understatement of the year, but let’s not get into technicalities right now). After all, when he finds the antidote to the potion, everything will go back to normal. Hermione should have... she deserved it after all... a guy that would love her for the great person she was, that would protect her with all his might... that would give up everything and anything for her.

‘But I am that guy.’

‘No, you are not.’

Harry wondered if he would be this bad with all of Hermione’s boyfriends, or if it was because that boyfriend happened to be Roger Davies. Harry had never really liked Roger. Don’t get him wrong... it wasn’t as if he thought Roger was in league with Voldemort and was a Death Eater in training. And it wasn’t because Roger had dated Cho Chang before and after Harry’s fiasco with the Ravenclaw seeker.

It was because Roger was the type of person that had everything... money, looks, charm, a brain... and had always struck Harry as using everything he had to manipulate those around him. He wanted a glass of juice? Roger only had to pop the suggestion and a couple of seconds later he would have three different glasses to choose from. He wanted to go to College? Roger only had to tell his dear Daddy-O which college and Dad would write a big fat check that would get Roger into the college of his choice. He wanted a new broom? His daddy would have it delivered the next day by Express Owl.

Now that he thought about it, Harry realized that Roger reminded him of Malfoy... a less-evil, but just as conniving and scheming version of Malfoy. Maybe that’s why he disliked Roger so much… because he feared that he would manipulate his best friend the same way he manipulates everybody else in his life.

‘That... and the fact that you are in love with her.’

‘Shut up!’

Finally, Harry found himself standing in front of the entrance to Dumbledore’s chambers. He didn’t know this year’s password (he had been back for almost three months and had yet to visit the Headmaster’s office... that was a new record), so he decided to just call for the old wizard.

“Professor! Professor Dumbledore! It’s me... Harry Potter. I... I have to talk to you about... something,” Harry called tentatively, looking up and down the hallway, reluctant to be caught by any of his fellow students.

There was no reply from the other side of the statue. Harry called a second time, and waited.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Dumbledore was not on his chambers, just as he had not been at breakfast that morning. Harry found it odd, but didn’t really give it much thought. If Hermione asked him if he had spoken with Dumbledore, Harry could be truthful and tell her he had tried, but couldn’t find the Headmaster, and that he would try again later.

“Mr. Potter, you are late for class. What are you doing here?” a stern feminine voice came from the other end of the hallway. Harry looked to his right to find Professor McGonagall walking toward him, her footsteps as brisk and business-like as her tone of voice.

“Am I? I just… I wanted to speak with the Headmaster. Do you know where I might find him?” Harry asked her in a very polite manner as he met Transfiguration teacher halfway.

“Oh. I’m afraid he’s not at Hogwarts. He was called yesterday on urgent business by the Wizengamot,” Professor McGonagall said, her disappointment at finding Harry roaming the hallways during class hours replaced by concern.

“I see. Do you know when Professor Dumbledore will return?” Harry asked, surprised that he actually regretted the fact that he could have spoken with Dumbledore yesterday and missed the opportunity.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Mr. Potter. But in the meantime, I’ll be acting as Deputy Headmaster. Whatever you had to say to Professor Dumbledore, you can say to me. Is this about returning to the Quidditch team?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Um… no. It’s sort of… personal,” Harry stuttered, feeling nervous by the way McGonagall’s beady eyes were fixed on his. Her usually stern expression softened when she displayed a very uncharacteristic look of surprise.

“Oh, I see. Well, Mr. Potter… I am the head of your house. You know you can speak to me about anything… personal or otherwise. I am here to listen,” Professor McGonagall added softly, gently placing her hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry actually considered telling McGonagall about his dreams, but quickly shot down the idea. Dumbledore knew things about him that Harry doubted McGonagall even suspected, and he didn’t feel comfortable sharing them just yet.

“Thank you, Professor. But it’s nothing big… a guy problem, really. I’ll wait for the Headmaster to return,” Harry said with what he hoped looked like a sincere smile.

McGonagall gave him a look that reminded him of Hermione and the expression she always wore when she didn’t believe Harry was being totally honest with her. The Professor finally sighed and said, “Very well, Mr. Potter. I’ll be around if you change your mind. I’ll inform the Headmaster that you want to see him upon his return. Now, I think you should get to class.”

Harry nodded and walked away, hoping that the boring History of Magic class that was waiting for him could push the thoughts of Hermione, Roger and the visions out of his mind.

------------------

11:55 AM

Hermione hadn’t had a chance to ask Harry about his conversation with Dumbledore all morning. Classes had been more hectic than usual, and even she had trouble keeping up with her notes. As soon as their last class of the morning ended, Hermione followed Harry outside.

“Harry, did you see Dumbledore? What happened? What did he say?” Hermione asked breathlessly as she tried to put her books inside her bag. Harry stopped, turned around and gave a small smile when he saw how adorable she looked when she was concerned.

He took the books from her hand and carried them for her as they started walking side by side toward the Great Hall, “He wasn’t in his chambers. Actually, Dumbledore is not even in Hogwarts.”

“Really?” Hermione asked with interest, a frown creasing between her brows. Everyone knew it was unusual for the Headmaster to leave the school during the term.

“Really. According to McGonagall, Dumbledore was called on urgent business by the Wizengamot,” Harry answered, moved Hermione’s books under his other arm and moving a bit closer to her.

“Oh. That’s too bad,” Hermione said, disappointed. Harry knew why. She felt helpless to assist him with the visions Harry had experienced these last couple of days, and she was hoping Professor Dumbledore would provide the help she couldn’t.

As if a thought had just occurred to her, Hermione grabbed Harry by the arm and stopped him from going any further. “You don’t think it has anything to do with what was in the paper today, do you?”

“With the Weird Sisters? I doubt that,” Harry mumbled. Why would Dumbledore care about the Weird Sisters? Sure, the old man may be a fan, but…

“Not the article about the Weird Sisters. The article about the missing artifact!” Hermione said excitedly. Seeing Harry’s blank expression, she sighed.

“The valuable magical artifact that found its way into the Berlin museum, only to have disappeared without a trace. Remember?” Hermione pressed. Again, Harry had the same look in his eyes he often got when Luna asked him if he had read the latest article on the Quibbler.

“Honestly! Harry, where were you at breakfast the past two days?” Hermione chided in good nature, playfully elbowing Harry in the ribs.

‘I’ve been too busy thinking of you…’

“Anyway, the paper said that the brightest minds in the magical community had been called by the Ministry to assist in locating the artifact,” Hermione continued.

“Well, maybe Dumbledore is helping out with that… but McGonagall was a bit tight-lipped about the subject… tighter than usual that is,” Harry answered.

“Oh, well, I’ll ask him when he returns. By the way, where IS Ron?” Hermione asked, looking up and down the hallway for any sign of their redheaded friend.

Harry remembered that Ron had mumbled something as soon as the class had ended, and that he had ran out of the room before Harry had a chance to ask where he was going.

“I guess he had to meet Luna because he ran out of the room like a bat out of hell as soon as Professor Binns said we could,” Harry said.

“So, I guess it’ll be just you and me for lunch, eh?” Hermione said with a playful smile. The butterflies in Harry’s stomach started flying wildly, and he could feel his hands getting sweatier by the second.

“I guess,” Harry mumbled, looking ahead and seeing if there was any Gryffindor that might join them and saved him from further mortification.

He almost lost his footing when he felt Hermione’s arm snaked around his free forearm. He looked to his right and found Hermione smiling, looking down at the floor as if strolling arm in arm with Harry down the hallways was the most natural thing in the world.

With every step they took, Harry’s anxiety lessened. This was, after all, his best friend, the person that time and time again had stood by his side through thick and thin.

Harry had never actually stopped to think about it, but it felt so right just to have her so near. He could just close his eyes, concentrate on the weight of her arm on his, and forget all about the potion and Roger.

Not so surprisingly, he could almost imagine that the woman next to him not only was his best friend, but his girlfriend… his lover… his other half…

His better half.

“Thanks,” Harry said softly, opening his eyes and looking down at Hermione. She smiled up at him with a puzzled expression on her face.

“For what?” she asked him. Harry actually thought considering telling her that it was because she was always there for him, and because he had come to need her more than he needed anybody else in the whole world. But that thought only lasted about a second… he was too afraid of ruining this beautiful moment.

At this time, he was just content with being plain old Harry and Hermione.

“For giving me the pleasure of escorting you to lunch,” Harry smiled. Hermione winked at him playfully.

“Smooth, Mr. Potter, very smooth,” she joked. They were just a few feet away from the Great Hall’s entrance when the voice that Harry had come to dread more than any other came from the castle doors.

“Hermione? Where have you been?” Roger asked. Hermione and Harry looked at the same time toward the castle doors to find Roger with a weave basket in one hand, a checkered cloth in the other, and a puzzled expression in his usually cool face.

“Oh… I was… talking to Harry… um…” Hermione stuttered, taking her arm away from Harry’s arm, her cheeks reddening instantaneously. Harry’s stomach tightened when she pulled away, but quickly hid his discomfort behind an unreadable mask.

“Well, are you ready?” Roger asked softly, his eyes moving from Hermione to Harry and back in a slightly cautious manner.

“Ready? For what?” Hermione asked, her voice more high-strung than normal. In answer, Roger wiggled the basket and the checkered cloth in his hands and gave her a bright smile.

“Oh, right! The picnic… we were going to eat outside… I forgot… I…um,” Hermione stuttered, her eyes shifting nervously from Roger to Harry. Harry didn’t know what to make of the expression in her eyes. Was she telling him that she was sorry because she didn’t want to go with Roger? Or was she telling him that she was sorry because she was going to leave him alone for lunch?

Harry realized that he was witnessing a very bizarre event. Hermione Granger was at a crossroads… and she didn’t know which way to go.

‘I’ll make things easier for her.’

“That’s okay, Hermione. We’ll have lunch another day,” Harry said, managing to muster up a halfhearted smile.

“Are you sure?” Hermione whispered, apparently not wanting to reach Roger’s ears. Again, Harry didn’t know what to make of the look on her face; there was a tinge of sadness in those brown eyes that he hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Go and have fun. Beware of the ants. They can be a bit of a handful,” Harry mumbled, forcing his smile to widen and giving her a thumbs-up. Hermione released a trembling breath, took the books he had been carrying for her and smiled slightly.

“I’ll… I’ll see you later, then,” Hermione said softly, turning around and walking toward Roger. Always the gentleman, Roger tried to carry the books that Harry had been carrying moments earlier. But Hermione just smiled politely at him and shook her head. She finally followed him out the castle doors and into the grounds.

Harry didn’t feel hungry anymore, so he turned around and walked toward Hogwart’s library, intent on continuing his quest for the antidote that could cure a fool from a broken heart.

------------------

12:13 PM

Unbeknownst to Harry and Hermione, Ron and Neville had been watching them since they left Binns’ classroom. That morning, the Plan “Get-the-two-nitwits-together” was devised, but Neville still felt guilty about the part he was assigned to play.

Now, witnessing what happened by the entrance castle, Neville realized that they had reached desperate times… and desperate times called for desperate measures.

When Ginny and Luna came out of their class and started walking to the Great Hall for lunch, they found Ron hiding behind a corner, watching Neville speaking with Colin Creevey, a sixth year photographer aficionado and the current Gryffindor Seeker. “Oh, he’s doing it already?” Ginny asked in an excited whisper. Ron nodded.

“He was afraid he might not have the guts to do it later,” Ron answered blankly. Ginny scowled at her older brother.

“Neville has plenty of guts, Ron… is wickedness and malice that he lacks,” Ginny replied coolly as the three of them watched Neville and Colin.

“Well, I’m sure a few weeks at the Burrow with the other Weasley’s will give him all the wickedness and malice he will need. Look!” Luna whispered excitedly. Ron and Ginny noticed that Neville had just given a candy wrapped in a brown wrapper to Colin. Neville shook Colin’s hand before turning around and walking toward them, the smile that he had plastered on his face while speaking to Colin now shifting into a more panicky expression.

“I’m going to hell,” Neville whispered to his three friends when he reached their side. Ron and Luna patted him in the back, while Ginny kissed his cheek soundly.

“Good, because I would have been lonely down there without you,” Ginny joked, lacing her arm around Neville’s arm. Neville managed to smile genuinely this time, even when thoughts of what poor Colin was about to experience plagued his conscience.

“I’m sure you will be forgiven, Neville,” Luna said as Ron took her hand and the four started walking away, “after all, this is about love.”

“Yes, but Colin will spend the next five hours puking his heart out,” Neville bleached at the thought. He still couldn’t believe that he had just passed Colin one of Fred and George Weasley’s Puking Pastilles.

“This was the only way, honey. Remember? We are doing this for Harry and Hermione…” Ginny said, finding adorable how Neville’s cheeks reddened and his ears flush from guilt.

Ron, on the other hand, couldn’t stop grinning, “Congratulations, everybody. We’ve just put the wheels into motion. “

----------------

4:05 PM

Luna straightened her uniform and watched from behind the corner as Hermione walked toward her. As if the Powers-That-Be were also in on “The Plan”, Roger had finally left Hermione alone.

“Well, the others did their part… now, it is up to you, Loony,” Luna whispered as she left the safety of the corner, almost crashing into Hermione on the process.

“Luna! You scared me!” Hermione screamed as she came to a screeching halt before smacking into Ron’s girlfriend.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, but I’ve been looking everywhere for Harry. Have you seen him?” Luna asked in that same dreamy voice that used to drive Hermione insane when they first met.

Hermione sighed. The last time she had seen Harry was when they left their last class of the day. They had hardly spoken since the incident during lunch, and, even when Harry was being awfully polite, Hermione knew she was being dodged.

“Not since we left class. What do you need him for?” Hermione asked Luna.

“Oh, Colin has fallen sick… a stomach flu or something. Anyway, Ronald asked me to come and get Harry to fill in for Colin during practice. Everyone else is already on the Quidditch pitch; they’re just waiting for Harry,” Luna said, twirling absently a lock of her blond hair.

“Very well. I’ll look for him and tell him. You can go to the pitch if you want to… I know how Ron gets when his #1 supporter is not there to sing, “Weasley is our King” “ Hermione said with a small smile. She waved goodbye to Luna and started to walk away.

But Luna was not finished with her yet.

“Hermione! Wait!” Luna called. Hermione stopped and turned around in time to see Luna jogging toward her.

“I was wondering if… if you could also come to the pitch? It can get really lonely for me down there. I’m the only significant other who goes to practice,” Luna said with a wistful expression.

“I’ll… I’ll see what I can do. You know Quidditch is not really my thing,” Hermione answered with a polite nod. She didn’t mind joining Luna there… but she wasn’t sure how Harry would feel.

In an uncharacteristically thoughtful and clear voice, Luna answered, “Oh, I know… but Harry is going to be there. He’s had a really tough week, you know. If there’s anything that can cheer him up, it’s Quidditch… and you.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed at once, but before she could even think of what to reply, Luna winked goodbye and turned around, thankful that the brown haired girl could not see the big grin on her face.

----------------

4:40 PM

Hermione had already tried the Gryffindor common room, her room (alright, she wasn’t looking for him there, but she used the opportunity to change into a comfortable wine-colored tee and jeans), the boys’ dormitory, the Great Hall, and even the kitchens looking for Harry, but she had found no sign of her raven-haired friend. So, she decided to look for him in the place Harry was least likely to visit in a normal day.

The library.

She walked inside the Hogwarts library and politely nodded to Madame Pince, who smiled at Hermione as if she was an old friend. It wasn’t unfathomable after all… Hermione did spent most of her free hours cooped up in here, exploring the wonders that the world of the written word had to offer.

Hermione walked toward the librarian’s desk and whispered, “Madam Pince, have you seen Harry this afternoon?” Madam Pince’s eyes turned to slits the moment Hermione mentioned Harry’s name; the woman definitely remembered Harry wreaking havoc on her precious library Monday night.

“Oh, yes… Harry “The wallcrawler” Potter. He’s sitting by the desk behind the Potion’s aisle,” Madam Pince said with a nod, returning her attention to the filing cabinet she had been perusing.

“Thanks,” Hermione nodded absently and, being familiar with the library’s layout as familiar as she was with the back of her hand, walked directly toward Harry.

Without really knowing the reason why, Hermione stopped a few meters away from him and took a moment to just watch him.

Hermione could only see his outline, but she knew she wouldn’t have mistaken him for anybody else. Harry’s black and unruly mop of hair was sticking on the back, his glasses were crooked, and he had a look of intense concentration on his face, biting his bottom lip as he scanned the page of the book he was holding. The knot in his tie was loosened, and his white uniform shirt was not tucked inside his trousers, the rolled-up sleeves showing his well-toned forearm muscles.

And not for the first time since she had met him, Hermione thought about how endearing Harry looked when he thought no one was watching him… when he didn’t feel the pressure of being the Boy-Who-Lived, and dared to be Harry.

Just Harry.

She kept strolling toward his table, and was now close enough to see that he had four different books sprawled all around him. Hermoine was pleasantly surprised. Since when had Harry developed such a love for books? And why hadn’t he informed her?

“Famous potions and their counterparts?” Hermione read out loud the cover of the wine-colored leather-bound book Harry was holding. It was only then that Harry was alerted to her presence, judging by the way he squealed in a very unmanly fashioned, jumped from his seat and snapped the book close, looking like he had been caught with his hand in someone else’s cookie jar.

‘Don’t let her see the books! Don’t let her see the books!’

“Did I miss an assignment?” Hermione asked worriedly, suddenly thinking about the extreme possibility that Snape had assign homework and that she had actually forgotten about it.

“NO! No… I’m… I’m just doing some extra-reading,” Harry lied, his breathing slowly returning back to normal. He immediately gathered the books that he had scattered around the desk and grouped them in a pile, hoping Hermione hadn’t had a chance to see their covers.

“You are not getting remedial potions, right? Is that what’s been on your mind?” Hermione asked, thinking that maybe that was what Harry had been hiding from her all week. After all, extra sessions with Snape could cause anyone to be in a foul mood.

“No, no… I just… I don’t want to fail the Advanced Potions’ N.E.W.T. test. That’s all.” Harry lied, managing to smile slightly at Hermione as he gathered the books under his arm and stood up. He turned around and started filing the books at a frenzied pace, afraid Hermione would spot a particular one with the title “In Love with Love Potion No. 9”

“Oh, Harry, I’m so glad you are working extra-hard on studying for the N.E.W.T.’s” Hermione beamed, the pride evident in her voice. He almost felt bad about lying… almost.

“Yeah,” he said off-handedly, putting the last book on its rightful place and turning around. Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. Which wasn’t easy considering how tight and low-cut her tee was.

“So, what are you doing here? Looking for Davies?” Harry asked, trying to sound like the cool and smooth dude he had never been. Hermione seemed slightly embarrassed by the question, but she seemed to recover as she placed the palm of her hands in the desk that Harry had been using and leaned forward.

“Actually… I’m looking for you,” Hermione said, a playful smile tugging at her lips. Oh, yes… Harry could definitely use a night of flying to loosen him up.

“What?” Harry replied, dumbfounded and pleasantly surprised that she was looking for him instead of Davies, and at the same time, worried about the reason why.

Had Dumbledore returned and asked to see him? Had Ron opened his big mouth and told her about the potion? Was she going to announce that she had gotten engaged to Davies and that Roger wanted Harry to be the best man at the wedding?

Okay, so Harry was a little bitty paranoid… you would be too if you were him.

“What you heard, Harry. Ron sent me to look for you. Colin has fallen ill and he can’t play Quidditch today. They need a seeker to fill in so they can practice,” Hermione said, utterly enjoying how Harry’s eyes visibly lighted at the mention of the word “Quidditch”

For the first time in his life, Harry was considering if it would be better to stay at the library rather than taking his Firebolt out for a spin. He knew he needed to find an antidote and fast, and that last book he had put on the shelf promised to be quite helpful in the matter.

But just the thought of being up there, almost touching the sky, away from all the problems, away from the visions and the nightmares, away from all the heartache…just feeling the cool wind on his skin as the sun sank in the west… that was a bit too tempting to resist.

“I take it you are going?” Hermione asked with humor, watching as Harry practically drooled at the thought of flying around the pitch.

“Hell yeah. I think I’ve done enough studying today. You wouldn’t want me to overload my defective brain with too much information in one seating, do you?” Harry joked, taking his cloak and his school bag from the desk and flinging them over his shoulder.

“Oh, we definitely don’t want that,” Hermione teased. Harry was about to wave goodbye and walk away, when the thought struck him that Hermione had not moved. She was still leaning over the desk, and was now looking down at the top with an unreadable expression in her eyes.

What Harry didn’t know was that Hermione was replaying the conversation she had with Luna in the hallway.

The silence grew thick, and for a few seconds, nothing happened… Harry’s eyes never left her outline, and Hermione’s eyes were stuck to the table as her hand traced lazy circles on its surface.

‘She’s probably waiting for Roger. Maybe trying to sneak a quick snogging session before dinner?’

‘But what if she’s not? What if she’s waiting for you?’

‘Why would Hermione be waiting for me?’

‘Because that’s what she has always done… wait… wait for you.’

“Hermione?” Harry asked, his voice tight in the echoing hall. She raised her eyes from the table and looked up at him with a shy smile.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked. Harry felt his throat go dry, and was unsure if what he was going to do was indeed wise.

‘This is not the time to start thinking before acting, Potter. Just do it!’

“D-d-do you… do you want to co-come with me?” Harry stuttered, clearing his throat nervously and simultaneously trying to appear as if it wouldn’t kill him if she said no. Hermione’s smile grew wider, but she remained silent.

Harry continued to babble, “I mean… I just noticed is a beautiful day outside. And I think you’ve done enough studying this week… blimey, you’ve done enough studying to last a lifetime! And… and…”

Hermione saved him from further embarrassment when she interrupted, “I guess a bit of fresh air will do me good.” She then walked to where Harry was standing and tapped his nose with her finger.

“Besides, I wouldn’t miss my best friend’s triumphant return to his beloved sport for anything in the world,” Hermione added, winking at him. Harry grinned genuinely.

‘You wicked little witch! You were planning on going all along, weren’t you?’

Harry hadn’t failed to notice how Hermione had called him “my best friend,” but he found he didn’t mind one bit. She had chosen to spend the afternoon with him, not Roger… and during lunch, she had wanted to eat with him, not with Roger.

‘Take that, you arrogant little git! Maybe the war is not lost.’

‘What the hell are you babbling about? Just go to the pitch before you say something stupid and ruin it again.’

It was Hermione’s voice that pulled him back to the real world. “Are you just going to stand here? Let’s go get your Firebolt before Ron has a heart attack,” Hermione joked.

Without further ado, Hermione grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the library, that blissful smirk still plastered on Harry’s face.

----------

“Are you scared?” Hermione asked Harry softly when they reached the edge of the field. Luna was sitting on the Ravenclaw stands, cheering and applauding as the Gryffindor players flew around the field overhead.

Harry smiled nervously, gripping the handle of his Firebolt tightly, and nodded at her. Was he scared of making a fool of himself in front of Hermione because he hadn’t practiced in almost a year? Hell yeah.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be around… and when have I ever let you fall?” Hermione said with a small smile. She then touched his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze before sprinting toward Luna, her brown curly hair bouncing behind her.

‘You have never let me fall.’

“It’s about bloody time, mate! Come on!” he heard Ron scream from high above. Harry looked up and grinned at his redheaded friend, throwing a leg over his broom and pushing himself from the ground.

The muggles would say that flying a broom is like riding a bike; you may spend years away from a bicycle, but as soon as you sit in one and start pedaling, all the technique comes back to you as if you had never stopped riding in the first place.

That’s how Harry felt as he soared on the sky, whooping like a child when he dodged a bludger Seamus had sent his way. He hadn’t seen the Snitch yet. In fact, he hadn’t even looked for it. He was having way too much fun just flying around, enjoying the sight of the sun as it set behind the mountains, the cool breeze as it pounded against his skin, and the lingering smell of Autumn in the air.

After about 50 minutes of just goofing around while the rest of the team practiced, Harry flew down until he was hovering next to Hermione and Luna on the stands.

“Having fun?” Hermione asked him redundantly with a bright smile; the goofy grin on his face was the only answer she needed.

“Oh, yes,” he answered breathlessly.

“Then, could you please stop showing off and catch the snitch? The mosquitoes here seemed to think my neck is an All-you-can-eat buffet,” Hermione said, her tone half-joking, half-serious. Harry laughed, and tipped his head forward as if he was pulling off an imaginary hat in reverence to a lady.

“As you wish,” Harry bowed dramatically, and with a final wink flew upwards and circled the field, looking for that tiny speck of gold machinery that had brought him many joyful times before.

After little bit over 4 minutes, he saw it. It was hovering a few feet away from Ron’s head, to the right of the center goal post. Driven by instinct, Harry pushed himself forward, gaining an incredible amount of speed in a few seconds. Ron squealed like a little girl, thinking Harry was about to crash into him, but Harry turned at the last minute, following the golden snitch, which had apparently noticed that it had been spotted and flew away.

Harry followed it, the end of his broom just three feet away from the golden treasure. He had to dodge Ginny, Seamus and Neville on his way, but he didn’t lost sight of the little ball with wings, even when dusk had already settled in and there was really no sunlight glinting from its surface.

At the last instant, Harry let go of the handle of his broom and leaned forward, deftly catching the snitch on his right hand, feeling as good as he had felt when they had won the Quidditch cup on his Third Year.

“Way to go, Harry!” Hermione and Luna cheered from the stands, breaking into applause. Harry raised the fist that was still holding onto the snitch triumphantly.

Seamus flew toward Harry and gave him a grateful smile while saying, “You know you could have caught that an hour ago, do you?”

“Yes… but then practice would have been cut short. And I wouldn’t do that to you, Seamus,” Harry winked, guiding his broomstick toward the ground. Neville, Ginny, Ron, and Alex were already on the ground. Hermione and Luna were coming down the stands toward them.

Harry received another round of applause by his surrogate teammates as soon as his feet landed on the ground. “That was great, mate. Too bad we don’t have you on the team anymore. The Quidditch cup would be a sure thing,” Ron said with a friendly pat on the back.

“Colin is a good seeker. You guys will be the champions this year. I’m sure of it,” Harry said, feeling the heat crawling on his cheeks.

“As long as he stays away from Fred and George’s candy,” Ginny said, winking at Neville, who blushed furiously as he put his arm over her shoulders. Harry didn’t know what to make of that little exchange, but he forgot all about it when Hermione finally reached his side, flinging her arms around his neck.

“That was awesome, Harry! I think you are even better than you were the last time you were on the team,” Hermione said with obvious pride, letting go of him and leaving him even more embarrassed than before.

“Errr… thanks, Mione,” Harry said sheepishly. He frowned when he saw Ron’s rather suspicious grin as the redhead stood behind Hermione, his arms around Luna’s waist.

“Do you miss it, Harry?” Luna asked, leaning back and resting her head on Ron’s shoulder. Harry couldn’t help but think that Luna must really love Ron, because only a person that truly loved you would hang around you when you were smelly, sticky, and sweaty.

“Miss what?” he asked her absently, waving goodbye to Alex and Seamus, who were now making their way back to the Castle.

“Playing Quidditch,” Luna added dreamily, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. To anyone who didn’t know her, it would seem Luna couldn’t care less about his answer. But he had come to know his best friend’s girlfriend well enough to know that it was just a façade.

Harry took a deep breath and looked around the field before answering, “I do miss Quidditch… sometimes… I mean, the feeling that you get when you are riding on that broomstick is quite… indescribable. It is almost like… almost like…”

“Almost like falling in love,” Ginny finished for him. Harry turned around sharply and looked at her. For the first time today, he had noticed that Ginny, Neville, Ron and Luna were looking at him with a strange glint in their eyes, as if they knew something he didn’t.

‘If Ron blabbed about me and Hermione, I’m going to pull every red hair from his head!’

“I used to think Quidditch was not for me. I used to like my feet on the earth where they belong,” Neville said, breaking the silence.

“Actually, according to Moodus Brandock of “The Quibbler”, the Earth is not the place of origin of wizardkind, but rather the 5th dimension,” Luna said in a very serious tone. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile, exchanging a knowing glance with Harry.

“I don’t know which dimension we are from, but Malfoy is definitely an alien from planet Urectum,” Ron added, shrugging at Hermione and Harry, making them laugh out loud at Luna’s comment.

“You know whom I’ve never seen playing Quidditch? Hermoine!” Ginny added after the laughter subsided. Hermione just shook her head sheepishly.

“That’s because I’ve never played it,” she said, sounding almost embarrassed. She knew what was coming, and she braced herself for it.

“WHAT?” Ron, Neville and Ginny screamed simultaneously. Even Luna seemed surprised. Harry just shook his head and smiled; he was all too familiar with Hermione’s fear of flying.

“I’m more of a spectator,” Hermione added defensively, shrugging and crossing her arms in an “I-dare-you-to-make-fun-of-me” expression. That look may have worked on the boys, but Ginny seemed to be oblivious to the threat.

“I can’t believe this is your seventh year at Hogwarts and you never tried Quidditch! Not even once! And to think you are my role model!” Ginny scoffed, shaking her head. Harry didn’t know if Ginny was being serious or if she was just joking.

“There should be a law against that!” Ron added, shaking his head in almost identical fashion.

“And I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be courageous,” Luna said, mirroring Ron’s movements.

“If I could do it, you have no excuse,” Neville said with a slight nod.

Was it just Harry’s imagination or were his four friends behaving more eccentric than ever before? It was almost as if they were following the same script, one they hadn’t bothered to share with Harry.

Hermione was not easily fazed, judging by how she rolled her eyes at them and said, “Honestly! It’s not that big a deal!”

Again, the “WHAT?” coming from his four friends thundered in the empty Quidditch pitch.

Thinking that she had just offended them by being disrespectful for their favorite sport, Hermione quickly added, “I mean, I’m sure is a lot of fun. But it’s just not for me.”

“If you had tried it, you wouldn’t say that,” Ron said with a sigh, his tone daring. The others followed with some “Yeah” and “That’s right” of their own. Harry didn’t know what was going on as Hermione’s eyes grew into threatening slits and she crossed her arms over her chest.

Surprisingly, Hermione didn’t realize that she was being backed into a corner.

“You know what? Why don’t you try it right now?” Ron said in a challenging tone, letting go of Luna’s waist as he mimicked Hermione’s pose and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m sure Harry wouldn’t mind giving you a crash course… I mean, a tutorial,” Ginny added quickly, an “I-dare-you” smile playing at the corner of her lips.

‘What the hell is going on here? And how come I’m suddenly involved?’

Even with the poor lightning, Harry saw how Hermione’s cheeks paled slightly at the prospect.

“What? Oh, no Ginny… It’s… getting dark and it is a bit cloudy… not much visibility… well, I’m not that good at riding a broom…” Hermione stuttered uncharacteristically.

“Are you scared, Hermoine?” Luna asked in a very levelheaded voice.

‘Oh, she didn’t say that…’

“No, I am not, Luna!” Hermione hissed, all the nervousness from her previous answer gone.

“Then, come on!” Neville said, giving a resounding two thumbs up.

“Yes, give it a try, Mione!” Ginny said with equal enthusiasm.

“I don’t have a broom,” Hermione said defensively.

“You can ride with Harry on his broom,” Luna added cheerfully.

It was now Harry’s turn to look maliciously at his friends as understanding finally dawned on him.

‘Oh, shit!’

Harry Potter realized that his four friends were setting him up.

‘Oh, I’m going to kill you for telling them Ron!’

Ron just winked at Harry when he caught sight of his friend’s angry expression.

“Oh, yes… The Firebolt… everyone knows Harry’s broom is a pleasure to ride,” Ron said with a wicked voice, still looking at Harry with humor.

‘Oh, that’s just plain perverted, Ron! Wait till I get my hands around you! And stop doing THAT with your broom handle!!!’

“We can release the snitch and you can try to catch it,” Neville said, taking the little golden ball from Harry’s hand and showing it to her.

“And Harry will help you, after all. You won’t be alone,” Luna added. Harry found courage where he had none and chanced to steal a glance at Hermione. He found her chewing her bottom lip, eyeing the snitch in Neville’s hand apprehensively.

“I’m… I’m not sure I should…” Hermione mumbled, her eyes shifting from Neville’s hand to the broom in Harry’s.

‘Oh Merlin! She’s actually thinking about it!’

‘Would it be so bad?’

‘Yes! Getting on a broom with Hermione, feeling as she practically sits on my lap in that all too tight jeans and heavy cleavage shirt while I’m holding on to her waist is a VERY BAD THING under the circumstances.’

‘Potter, that is so gay.’

‘It isn’t! This is my best friend and I couldn’t… I shouldn’t… I SHOULDN’T THINK ABOUT HER THAT WAY!’

‘She’s a girl, isn’t she?’

‘Is a rose just a flower?’

‘Again, very gay thing to say.’

‘Oh, shut up.’

‘Stop being a saint for once, Potter. Have the guts to be a man.’

“Come on, Mione… you don’t want anyone thinking Hogwarts’ Head Girl is a chicken, do you?” Harry said before he could think twice. Hermione snapped her head and looked at him crossly over her shoulder, while Ron and the others beamed at him.

“You too?” Hermione hissed at him. Harry gulped visibly, feeling the beads of sweat starting to collect over his eyebrow.

Maybe he had made this decision thinking with the wrong head.

Hermione took two steps until she reached his side and swiveled her arm. Before he knew it, she had yanked the Firebolt from him and had swung a leg over it.

“Well, are you coming or not?” Hermione asked him in a business-like voice. Harry cleared his throat and, with a mixture of fear and excitement, swung a leg over the broom and positioned himself behind Hermione.

He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers before tentatively reaching over and taking the broom handle from her. He almost jerked away when her hands left the handle and settled over his naked arms, her nails digging into his flesh, the gesture betraying how truly nervous she felt.

Harry was careful not to brush against her or get too close for fear of stimulating more than just his imagination.

“Ready?” Harry asked, his voice hoarse and trembling.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Hermione whispered, sounding as scared and excited as he felt.

Without wasting one more second, Harry and Hermione pushed themselves from the ground. Slowly, but steadily, they began to rise. Hermione closed her eyes tightly and dig her nails further into Harry’s skin.

Harry had never understood the phrase “exquisite pain” until now.

On the ground, the four remaining friends looked at each other and smiled.

“We are geniuses,” Ron whispered, his gaze shifting from his two best friends to Neville, Ginny and Luna.

“Here’s to true love,” Neville said, raising his fist high in the air.

“To true love,” Ginny followed suit.

“To true love,” Luna followed, looking at her beloved Ronald.

It was Ron’s turn to speak as he raised his fist.

“To friendship… because from the best of friends come the greatest of lovers.”

The Firebolt slowly rose into the darkening sky. She was scared and he knew it, so he tried to be as gentle as possible. Her nails were still digging into his arms, and she had shut her eyes when they were still within 5 feet of the ground. Her long locks were tickling his face as the wind beat severely on their bodies.

The sun was almost buried behind the mountains, and only a trickle of daylight remained. Harry didn’t dare look anywhere but at the back of Hermione’s head, but he was sure that the moon had already appeared overhead, and that the stars were beginning to twinkle in the dark blue sky.

“Hermione, are you alright?” Harry whispered softly.

“Yeah,” she whimpered unconvincingly.

“Do you want to do this or do you want to go down? I don’t want to pressure you,” Harry said very gently, wishing to run his hands through her mane of messy brown hair and settling for tightening the grip on the broom handle.

“And face the Inquisition down there? Never,” Hermione replied, some of her legendary courage creeping into her voice.

“Alright. I’m going to tell Neville to release the snitch. Are you ready?” Harry asked, taking a deep breath. It wasn’t everyday that he held a trembling Hermione between his arms, and it was a blessing to know that he was there to comfort her. Hermione nodded in reply.

“Hermione…” Harry started, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What?” Hermione asked him breathlessly.

“You might want to open your eyes,” Harry finished, his smile widening. He heard a little “Oh” and a nervous laugh coming from her. He then heard her wince, and he instinctively knew she had opened her lovely eyes.

“LET IT GO!”

Harry and Hermione looked down and watched as Neville released the snitch. The little golden ball with wings hovered over the four friends on the ground for just a second, but then it zoomed with such an amazing burst of speed that both Harry and Hermione lost track of it.

“Where did it go? WHERE?” Hermione asked nervously as soon as the snitch disappeared from her sight, tensing her already stiffed shoulders.

“Relax, Mione,” Harry whispered soothingly. He had trouble keeping a clear view of the darkening field when her hair kept flying on his face, so he took a deep breath and placed his head next to hers, his chin lightly touching her shoulder.

He tried to ignore how his stomach flipped with the chaste contact. Thankfully, he didn’t notice her reaction, or his heart would have jumped right out of his mouth.

Harry cleared his throat and said, “You got to be patient, Hermione. That’s the key. Be patient, but be alert. Keep your eyes and your ears opened. You may not see it, but it is here, just waiting for you to get it.”

“But how can I get it? There’s not enough light! I can’t see a thing!” Hermione whispered as she tried to focus her eyes in scanning the field.

“Quidditch is not only about ability, but about instinct. You have to trust your instincts on this one,” Harry said encouragingly, wishing he could let go of the broom handle to give her a quick hug.

“That’s not a good thing, Harry. My instincts tell me to get my feet on the ground where they belong,” Hermione replied, her edgy voice tinted with amusement.

“That’s your head speaking, Hermione. For once, do the thinking with your heart,” Harry whispered.

Hermione’s stiff shoulders relaxed slightly, and her heart became steady enough for her to dare to look over her shoulder at him. For a moment, he was taken back by how close her lips were to his.

‘Don’t think of her lips! Don’t think of her lips!’

“Since when did you become so wise?” she asked, the corner of her lips rising in a smile, arching her perfectly defined eyebrow at him.

Harry grinned nervously while replying, “Since Luna gave me that subscription to The Quibbler for my birthday.”

This time she laughed out loud, and turned her head back to its original position. Harry closed his eyes and took a steadying breath of air.

‘Lost your window to kiss her.’

‘Shut up!’

Harry opened his eyes when he heard Hermione’s sharp intake of breath. “What is it?” he asked worriedly.

“I… I think I see it,” Hermione whispered, her eyes focused on a point somewhere in front of them.

“Where?” Harry asked, his eyes immediately scanning the area Hermione was looking at. But the night had already settled in, and his visibility was down to nil.

“By the left side of the middle goal post at the other end of the field,” Hermione replied hurriedly. Harry looked at the area in question and squinted his eyes.

He gasped a few seconds later. There it was, the snitch, that little golden ball that meant everything in his beloved game, just hovering exactly where Hermione had said it would be.

‘How did she…?’

A new wave of pride surged inside of him for his best friend.

“Alright, you’ve seen it… now you need to go after it. Ready to take the broom?” Harry asked, not bothering to hide the emotions he was feeling at the moment.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate flying?” Hermione said, fighting the intense urge to shut her eyes close.

“About three dozen times. But I think you are just begging for a chance to think otherwise,” Harry whispered. Hermione didn’t say anything, but she shifted slightly and scooted a bit closer to him. He realized he was so close he could smell the lingering scent of her lavender shampoo, her vanilla soap, and her sweat.

It drove him mad.

“Take the broom, Mione,” he whispered, the commanding tone of his voice hiding the tremors within. He bit his lower lip when she tightened her grip on his arms, feeling her nails digging in, wondering if she had drawn any blood yet.

“Harry, I’m not a good at flying. It might not be a good idea to…” Hermione started saying, but was quickly cut off by Harry.

“You are better at this than you think,” Harry whispered throatily, “Come on, Hermione… it is just in front of you… you can almost touch it… don’t let it get away.”

“I don’t want to fall,” Hermione said, succumbing to the fear and shutting her eyes. Harry suppressed a sigh; he had brought her this far… he wasn’t about to let her give up now.

Harry’s lips were less than an inch from Hermione’s ear when he whispered, “Hermione, do you trust me?”

After a few moments of heavy silence between them, Hermione nodded.

“Then trust me on this… I won’t let you fall,” Harry whispered, leaning back a bit after the desire to nuzzle against her neck became almost unbearable. She shuddered visibly, but slowly opened her eyes.

Hermione looked over her shoulder, and their eyes locked. Could she read his expression in the darkness? Could she know how much he felt for her? The pride? The awe? The love? Could she know that he wanted her to do this for HERSELF and no one else?

“Take the broom,” Harry commanded hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. She looked back to the snitch that was still hovering on the other side of the field and released a trembling breath.

Hermione’s hesitation started melting, and he felt as her fingers traveled down his arms, his wrists, the back of his hands… his knuckles… to the tip of his fingers. And she finally released him, gripping the Firebolt’s handle tightly in her hands, literary hanging on for dear life.

Harry smiled and nodded imperceptibly. “Alright, the moment I release the handle, you are going to be in control of the broom. Just remember it is a very powerful broom, so be gentle when you command it.”

Hermione nodded, her jaw squared in determination. Slowly, Harry let go of the broom handle, resting his hands lightly on the sides of Hermione’s waist, hesitating to get a firmer grip. As soon as he let go, the broom lost power and dropped a little bit over a foot before pulling back. Hermione yelped softly, but stood her ground, and a second later the Firebolt found itself under her control.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Hermione continued staring at the snitch on the other side of the field while Harry stared at the back of her head, wishing that the simple contact of his hands on her body was enough to project into her the confidence and assurance she needed to conquer her fears.

Boy, was Harry in for a surprise.

Unexpectedly, Hermione leaned into the broom, and the Firebolt jerked forward and zoomed to the other side at neck-breaking speed. His shyness at her nearness was soon forgotten as the instinct for survival kicked in, and that instinct told him that if he didn’t grab onto her for dear life, his friends would spend the night scraping the remains of his body from the ground.

Hugging her tightly, Harry could hear the cheers of his friends on the ground even amidst the roaring wind as the little golden speck on the other side came closer and closer…

Sensing that it had been found, the snitch moved, zooming to its right. Harry got another shocker when Hermione didn’t hesitate in doing the same, making a wide turn to her right and following the golden ball. Hermione’s command over the broom was far from smooth, but the important thing was that there was not a trace of self-doubt or vacillation in her actions.

And she certainly didn’t hesitate when she followed the snitch behind the Gryffindor stands. Harry swallowed a scream as they flew under the stands, their heads barely dodging one of the wooden boards.

But Hermione kept following the snitch with the same determination and passion that she used when looking for a particular bit of information while searching through the maze of knowledge that was the library.

“That’s it, Hermione! THAT’S IT!” Harry cheered as Ron and the others scream on the field.

The snitch now flew over the stands and dived toward the ground, zooming toward the goal posts just before it crashed into the ground. To Harry’s utter delight (and a bit of terror too), Hermione did exactly the same!

Harry’s body crashed into hers as she pulled them up just before hitting the ground and followed the snitch. They were riding so low that he had to pulled his knees up to avoid hitting the grass with his feet.

But even the threat of injury wasn’t enough to stop the grin across Harry’s cheeks when he realized Hermione was actually gaining speed, closing the distance between the little golden ball and themselves.

It was now less than a foot away. And that’s when Hermione did what Harry thought was impossible.

Her body tightened around the handle, and her right hand was not on the broom anymore but in the air, reaching for the snitch. The golden ball tried to make a last minute effort to save itself by quickly flying to the side.

But it was too late.

Hermione Granger had just wrapped her delicate hand around the snitch.

Before Harry could make coherent words come out of his mouth, his feet were already on the ground after a rough landing, while Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville ran toward them. Hermione turned on her heels and looked at him with the same expression of shock and delight he was giving her, the little speck of gold still clutched tightly in her hand.

Seeing as words failed him, Harry could only wrapped his arms around her waist and hug her tightly, lifting her up the ground and twirling her around. Their sound of their laughter echoed in their ears as their friends finally joined them.

Harry reluctantly let go of Hermione, who turned around and faced the still gaping Ron with a very cocky expression on her face. “I believe this is yours,” Hermione said with a wink, handing the snitch back to Ron.

Ron blinked two more times before he was finally able to say, “BLIMEY, HERMIONE! THAT WAS INCREDIBLE!” He didn’t hesitate in hugging her tightly and lifting her up the ground just as Harry had done. Harry beamed at them, knowing exactly how proud of Hermione Ron felt at that moment.

As soon as Ron let go of Hermione, it came Ginny’s turn to embrace her as the smaller redhead said, “I’m so proud of you!”

“You really acted like a pro out there,” Neville beamed, patting Hermione on the back sheepishly. Luna looked as if she was about to belt out “Hermione is our queen”, but settled for a small hug while saying, “If I didn’t know better, I would have swore you play before.”

Ron sighed dramatically, shook his head and looked at Harry, “You do realize that now that Hermione knows she’s even good at Quidditch, there’s no way to stop that big head of hers from exploding.”

Hermione stuck her tongue at Ron and slapped his arm. Even with the cold of the night, Harry could feel the embarrassed heat coming from her cheeks. “If I was any good, it was all thanks to my coach,” she said with a smile, looking at Harry over her shoulder.

It was now Harry’s turn to blush.

Ron stretched and dropped his right arm, landing on Luna’s shoulders. “Well, I better go take a bath and hit the books. Got that potions assignment to finish,” he said, holding Luna close while winking at the currently dull-witted Harry.

“Thanks for reminding me,” Neville mumbled, the grin on his face disappearing.

“Cheer up, you two. After all, the ball is tomorrow night,” Ginny said, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree in December. Harry stole a glance at Hermione, and was surprised to see that the smile grazing her features was slightly forced.

Luna turned to Ron and said, “Speaking about the ball, Ronald, I’ve been thinking about our costumes and…” Everybody leaned toward them, hoping to get a hint about the mysterious costumes. But before Luna could say another word, Ron quickly clasped his hand over her mouth.

“Pumpkin, I will gladly be laughed at tomorrow… but I don’t want to have people laughing at me tonight,” Ron said with a mischievous smile. She tried to glare at him, but quickly yelped happily when Ron scooped her off her feet.

“See you guys later,” Ron said after turning around. Luna waved at them dreamily as Ron started walking toward the castle, his girlfriend safely cradled in his arms.

“If my brother intends to carry her all the way to the castle, I predict a hernia in his near future,” Ginny said in good nature, hooking her arm around Neville’s waist, and beaming at Harry and Hermione.

“Well, I better get started on that assignment. See you guys later,” Neville said, throwing his broom and Ginny’s Cleansweep over his shoulder and walking back to the castle with his free hand still draped around the redhead’s shoulders.

“I’m so happy for them,” Hermione whispered as they watched them retreat under the moonlight.

“I am too. I think they are perfect for each other,” Harry said absently, stealing a glance at the young woman standing by him.

-----------

“Do you think that those two nitwits will one day realize this was their first date?” Ron whispered to his girlfriend. Luna looked over his shoulder at the couple on the field, noticing that they were now alone with each other.

“Actually, Ronald, something tells me this date is not over yet.”

-----------

Harry became consciously aware that he was now alone with Hermione. And he had absolutely no doubt that the four friends had intended for this to happen all along.

Harry briefly wondered what Ginny, Ron, Neville and Luna wanted him to do as he turned his head and looked at Hermione’s smiling profile.

‘What can I do? What can I say? What did they expect to happen? Did they expect me to kiss her and make her forget everything about that stupid prat she’s dating? Do they want me to ask her to go to the ball with me and not with Roger? Did they expected Hermione to suddenly confess her undying love for me, grab me by the arm and pull me to her room to start making some babies?’

But just remembering how it had felt to be so close to her was enough to send shivers up and down his spine. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath before trusting in his ability to speak.

“Y-y-you coming?” Harry stuttered nervously, opening his eyes but not daring to look at her. Hermione looked up into the sky and said nothing for a few seconds. Harry started thinking she might not have heard him until Hermione asked a very peculiar question.

“Harry, can you loan me your Firebolt one more time tonight?” Hermione asked softly. He turned his head sharply around to look at her. There was a playful smile tugging at her lips, her hands resting on her hips as she enjoyed the look of utter shock on his face.

“There’s something I want to try…” she trailed. Harry blinked twice, but couldn’t bring himself to do anything else but stare at her.

After she laughed out loud, Harry finally blurted, “What are you up to?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” Hermione said when her laughter subsided. Her laughter was a beautiful sound, like that of wind chimes blown by a sweet tropical breeze.

“So… what do you say?” she asked, reveling in the knowledge that there were still things about her that could surprise the person that knew her the most.

“Take it! It’s yours!” Harry ranted, handing her the broom he was holding on his hand.

‘Great, Potter. Offer her your second most prized possession! That’s not suspicious AT ALL, Mr. Smooth.’

“Thanks. But it’ll do for tonight,” Hermione said with a small laugh, taking the broom from him. She faced the field and took a few steps, finally swinging her leg over the broom. She looked over her shoulder at Harry, her eyebrow arching roguishly.

“Are you coming or not?” she asked the now smiling Harry. He mentally weighted the pros and cons of that particular offer.

‘Trying to find out just what exactly is your best friend, who half an hour ago was terrified of heights, up to? PRO!’

‘The fact that she has never invited Roger to get on a broom with her? PRO!’

‘The fact that, even if you get on the broom with her, Roger will still be the handsome, intelligent, rich and well-behaved son of a bitch that will take Hermione to the ball? CON!’

‘The fact that you are totally and completely alone with her? PRO!’

‘The fact that you can be a total PRAT when are you totally and completely alone with her? CON!’

‘The fact that you can take a cold shower afterwards? PRO!’

‘The fact that you have the uncanny ability to blurt out the wrong thing at the worst of times? CON!’

‘Getting a second chance to put your arms around her? PRO! No… CON! NO PRO! NO...’

‘AH, TO HELL WITH IT.’

“You can bet on it,” Harry said, grinning nervously as he walked toward her. Swinging a leg over the broom and sitting behind her, he tentatively put his arms around her waist, still careful to leave a few inches between them for fear of arousing more than the hairs in the back of his neck.

“Are you sure you want to do whatever it is you want to do? After all, you just tried Quidditch. You don’t want to overexcite yourself! Maybe we should go back to the common room and you can go back to reading Hogwarts: A History,” Harry teased her.

He couldn’t help but think not so appropriate things about his best friend when he heard her answer.

“Grab on tight and I’ll show you how exciting I can be.”

Looking over her shoulder, Hermione winked at him before facing forward and jerking on the handle, sending them flying directly overhead.

After a few seconds, Harry realized she had no intention to stop their ascent. They were now higher than he had taken her for their Quidditch run… and they kept on rising.

As Harry watched over her shoulder as the Hogwarts castle grew smaller and smaller in the distance, he started notice the mist forming around them. He looked overhead and realized that they were flying into the clouds… and beyond.

They finally reached a clearing, the blanket of clouds under them and the clear dark sky above. Just then, Hermione stopped their ascent. It was a very rough maneuver that caused Harry to close the distance he had careful left between their bodies and crash into her. Harry groaned, closing his eyes and taking a big breath.

“Sorry. I still don’t get a handle on braking,” Hermione said sheepishly. Harry opened his eyes and tried to tell her not to worry, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a squeak.

‘Hagrid in a bikini shaking his tush! HAGRID IN A BIKINI SHAKING HIS TUSH!’

When he had gathered enough control over his body and his heart was not racing like a wild stallion in heat, he chanced a glance at his surroundings.

It was so beautiful Harry was left speechless.

The sky above the clouds was a deep shade of midnight blue, and there were hundreds of stars twinkling, noticeable even by the naked eye. An almost full moon was directly suspended in front of them, great in size but mostly in its supreme beauty. He was so caught up in the moment that he was only able to verbalize one word.

“Whoa”

“Whoa indeed,” Hermione said with a small laugh. Harry immediately felt a little bit stupid at his lack of proper vocabulary.