Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. No copyright infringement intended.
The Words You Say
"Pulchritude."
Hermione Granger looked up from the text she was reading, her eyes settling on the owner of the voice. "What?"
Harry Potter had his eyes on her, the intensity behind them unnerving and oddly exciting at the same time. "Pulchritude," he repeated; "It means beauty."
"I know," she said quietly.
He grinned. Of course she did. What didn't she know? "It originates from the Latin word, 'pulcher,' meaning 'beautiful.'"
Hermione shifted in her seat, tilting her head slightly. "Why are you telling me all this?" she asked curiously, unable to resist. He definitely had her attention now.
"No reason," he said easily, returning his attention to whatever he was reading. "It's just a word that I learnt recently."
Hermione peeked at what he was reading and smiled knowingly. "Just how recently?"
He looked at her again, his eyes shining with something she didn't recognise. She felt unnerved again. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said softly, a professional at faking his innocence.
"Harry Potter, are you seriously reading the dictionary?"
He shrugged. "Seems a whole lot more interesting than this rubbish Professor Binns has us reading," he muttered, waving his hand in dismissal at the textbook on the table in front of him. "And I'm learning new words. Like flagrant."
"What does that mean?"
"You don't know?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She huffed. "Tell me."
He laughed lightly. "It means obvious, blatant or unashamed."
"Does it now?"
He grinned at her. "Would you like me to use it in a sentence?"
"By all means," she said, waving her hand. "I'm listening."
Harry suddenly turned serious, his gaze meeting and holding hers. "I, Harry Potter, can flagrantly say that, under the definition of the word 'pulchritude' should be the name Hermione Granger."
Despite herself, Hermione blushed a deep red, her voice suddenly and embarrassingly failing her.
"What?" he asked innocently when she didn't respond. "Is there something wrong with my sentence structure?"
She laughed lightly, managing to compose herself. "You can be ridiculous sometimes, did you know that?"
Harry frowned. "Ridiculous, you say?" he asked, beginning to page through the dictionary hurriedly. "I'm not sure what that means exactly. Language of origin, please?"
Hermione quieted him by placing a hand over his, invariably halting his movements.
Harry just stared at her, his mouth hanging slightly open as he waited expectantly for what he guessed would surely follow. He wasn't disappointed.
"Thank you, Harry," she said calmly. Then, her own insecurities coming into play, she added: "but maybe you should look up the meaning of the word delusional as well."
Harry stopped her when she tried to take her hand away, by closing his fingers around her thin wrist. He tried not to focus on how soft her skin felt under his fingertips but he couldn't help being momentarily distracted.
"Harry," she breathed, getting his attention.
"I'm neither ridiculous nor delusional," he said seriously. "Not in this regard, at least."
"Harry," she repeated.
"I'm not blind, Hermione," he said strongly. "I see you, you know? Behind everything you put up for the world to see; the way you always feel you have to defend your choices and beliefs; the way you feel obligated to apologise for putting your academics first. I see the way you miss your parents and want nothing more than to make them proud of you. I also see the way you bite your bottom lip when you're thinking and the way your brow furrows when you're concentrating on something important. I see you, and what I see amazes me.
"So you don't get to call me ridiculous or delusional because I finally managed to put into words what I see. You, Hermione Granger, are beautiful. There is nothing more flagrant than that."
With those last words, Harry released her wrist and returned his attention to his ever-so-interesting dictionary, as if he hadn't just said anything to write home about.
Hermione was frozen in place, stunned by his sudden monologue. She didn't even know what prompted it but he seemed so sure; so convinced. She was even tempted to feel his forehead to see if he was suffering from a fever.
"Harry," she said carefully. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
He glanced at her. "I'm perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"
To Hermione, he didn't look fine. If anything, he looked flushed, even flustered, his cheeks tinged pink and his hair even messier than usual. She couldn't help but find him utterly adorable when he got like this.
"Liar," Hermione countered. "Seriously, what's got into you today? I mean, you're reading a dictionary."
"I'm fine."
She sighed. "Okay..."
Harry stared down at the words on the pages of the dictionary, right until the moment that he made a decision. Quite suddenly, he looked up at Hermione. "Why don't you believe me?" he asked, cutting into her reading about the 43rd Goblin Revolution.
"About what?"
"About the fact that I think you're beautiful?"
Hermione wished that they could stop having this conversation but she could tell, from the slight crease in his brow, that he had no intention of dropping the topic. Harry Potter wanted an answer and she was going to have to give him one.
"Those are just the words you say," Hermione said eventually, which was what she believed. Words were just words; they could mean nothing. It was the actions behind the words that she paid attention to.
"And I mean them," he said, not understanding her meaning.
She sighed. "You would be the only one."
"So?" he countered gently.
Hermione did not respond.
He frowned, but said nothing more as he returned his attention to the dictionary. He paged through, absently reading the words and their definitions. It surprised him that he actually knew quite a few of them. He'd never thought of himself as particularly eloquent but it was comforting to know he could probably hold his own during an intelligent conversation. Merlin knew that talking to Hermione was practice enough.
"Are you really just going to sit there and read the dictionary?" Hermione asked after a while. She didn't know why but merely the fact that he wasn't reading his History of Magic book was bothering her. He wasn't going out of his way to distract her - not like Ron, which was why she banished him from sitting with them in the library - but he was still succeeding.
Harry took a moment to look up at her. "Is it bothering you?" he asked, hearing the tinge of annoyance in her voice.
"No," she lied, flagrantly. As she thought of it, she smiled secretively, and Harry might have died on the spot.
"Liar," he said.
Hermione only smiled that bit more. "What other words have you learnt?"
"Congruous," he said easily.
Hermione spent a moment thinking about it. "In agreement or harmony," she said, defining it for him.
Harry nodded. "Harmony."
"It's a good word."
"I've also learned the word superfluous, meaning unnecessary, especially through being more than enough." He grinned at her. "As in, all this reading that Professor Binns has us doing is superfluous information."
Hermione laughed. "That, my dear Harry, was perfect sentence structure."
He shrugged. "I try."
"What else?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have reading to do?"
"I'm sufficiently distracted until dinner time," she said dismissively. "And besides, don't you have reading to do?"
"Just for your information, I've already done it," he said seriously, his eyes never straying from her perfect face.
Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "What? When?"
"When you and Ron were patrolling last night."
Hermione blinked. "Oh."
Harry just smiled at her.
"But, if you've done all the reading, what are you doing here?"
"I'm reading the dictionary."
"Harry," she said pointedly, her eyes narrowing. "What are you really doing here? You could be out playing Quidditch or playing Chess with Ron. Why are you here with me?"
Harry shrugged. "I've been meaning to read the dictionary, you see. I hear it's supposed to be an exhilarating read, and this is as good a time as any, I guess."
"Harry?"
He sighed. "Why can't I just sit here, Hermione? Do you want me to go?"
"No," she said quickly. "I'm just wondering why."
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't understand why you're getting so defensive."
"I don't understand why you're so interested."
"Because I want to know."
Harry couldn't say why he was getting so irritated but he couldn't help it. "Fine, if you don't want me here, I'll just go sit somewhere else!" In a flurry, he slammed closed the dictionary, and then his History of Magic book, grabbed his pieces of parchment, his quill and stood up. Without a word more, he picked up his book bag and made his way across the library.
What was wrong with him?
Harry was already sitting at a new table by the time Hermione recovered from Harry's sudden departure. She couldn't be sure of what just happened. They were perfectly fine a minute ago, and then... was it something she said?
Stubbornly, Hermione returned to her reading, determined not to allow Harry's exit to ruin her studying. Though, she hadn't lied when she said she was sufficiently distracted. By Harry.
She glanced up at him several times and, every time, he was sifting though his dictionary. It just baffled her, really. Why would he want to spend his afternoon indoors, reading a bloody dictionary? Never mind his sitting with her while he did it; just merely the fact that he was doing it.
With great difficulty, Hermione was able to focus enough to return to her reading. Harry was right in that it was completely boring and entirely unnecessary. Especially when it came to the fight against Voldemort.
During a break in her reading, Hermione glanced up to look at Harry, only to find him gone. He was no longer sitting at his table, and his things were nowhere to be seen. Hermione couldn't help the hurt she felt. Harry Potter didn't make a habit of leaving without her, and the fact that he hadn't even told her he was leaving struck something deep within her.
Hermione knew then that it would be impossible for her to return to her reading, so she busied herself with packing up her things. She wasn't sure what to do about her Harry situation, whatever it actually was. Maybe Ron knew what was wrong with him. There was an idea. She would ask Ron.
There were several loose pieces of parchment and she gathered them up to throw away on her way out. They had her scribbles and Harry's doodles on them, and she couldn't stop herself from sifting through them. She absently smiled at the little broomsticks and the many many lightning bolts.
But it was one piece that caught her attention. It had only Harry and Ron's handwriting on it, as if they'd passed it between each other with their cryptic notes during class. Hermione couldn't help herself.
Bloody hell, Harry! Stop moping about and just tell her already... It was obviously Ron's writing, with his untidy scrawl and big, loopy letters.
I am not moping about and you know I can't do that. Harry's handwriting was neater, but still rather messy. Hermione would know it just about anywhere.
Bloody hell! Just tell her.
Ron, you know that I can't. And stop telling me what to do.
If you tell yourself that enough times, you'll believe it. Honestly, if you don't tell her, I will.
Don't you dare! The ink was more pronounced and Hermione could tell that Harry was panicked by that suggestion.
Then just tell her!
Ron, I can't! It isn't as if she'll believe me anyway. I'm just going to end up ruining everything.
You don't know that. You CAN'T know that! Harry, please, just tell her.
I can't! I don't have the words to convince her.
That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard (read)! If you don't have the words, then find them!
Fine! I will!
Fine!
Hermione couldn't stop herself from thinking that her two best friends could be incredibly childish sometimes. She had absolutely no idea what they were talking about but she was suddenly determined to find out. Whoever her was had to be the reason Harry was in such a mood. And whatever words he was looking to find had to be the reason for his sudden, if not strange, obsession with the dictionary.
Hermione made the decision not to throw away any of the parchment. She was quite fond of Harry's doodles, even when sometimes he wasn't. There were things that he did sometimes - like draw, or write - and she wondered if he even knew how great he was. Because he was. He was marvellous.
Hermione made her way to Gryffindor Tower, her mind focused solely on Harry, his disappearing act and his dictionary. The more that she thought about it, the more confused she became. She had to talk to both boys now.
But neither boy was to be found in the Common Room, and she wasn't all that surprised by it. She was tempted to rush up to their dormitory but she thought better of it. Waiting until they came down for dinner seemed like a much better idea. They would be less defensive if it were them who came to her, and not the other way around.
After she dropped off her things in her room - making sure to pocket the parchment with the written conversation in her robes - Hermione made her way down to the Great Hall by herself. It afforded her the time to go through the events of the day more clearly. Despite her apprehension about what was going on with Harry, she was rather eager to find out.
As expected, neither boy was in the Great Hall yet.
Hermione moved to sit down by herself, determined to wait out her childish friends. She had to wait nearly an hour for Ron and Harry to show themselves and, from the look of them, she could only guess why. Their robes looked dishevelled - well, more than usual - and they both wore scowls on their face. The closer they got to her, the more obvious it became that they had both been involved in a scuffle. Harry even had a split lower lip.
"What happened to the two of you?" Hermione asked immediately.
"Nothing," they said at the same time, before they shot glares at each other.
Ron plonked himself down on the bench opposite Hermione, while Harry remained standing as he dished some food onto a plate. It wasn't much but he looked like he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
"Aren't you sitting down?" Hermione asked him.
Harry looked at her for a moment and opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He just shook his head, lifted his plate and then disappeared from the Great Hall without so much as a word.
Hermione immediately turned her attention to Ron. "What happened?"
Ron couldn't stop his frown as he continued to pile food onto his plate. "We had a disagreement," he grumbled.
Hermione read his tone for what it was, and her eyes widened. "With each other?"
"He's so bloody stubborn," Ron complained. "I don't know why he won't just listen to me."
Hermione reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out the folded piece of parchment. "Does it have anything to do with this?" she asked, passing it to him.
Ron's frown only increased as he took the parchment from her, but his frown turned to a look of utter panic when he read the words. "Where did you get this?"
"What is it about?"
"Where did you get this, Hermione?" he repeated, trying and failing to remain stoic.
"I found it in Harry's scraps when I was cleaning up after he effectively abandoned me in the library," she explained, her tone picking up some sourness along the way. "What is going on with him?" she asked. "I mean, he was literally reading the dictionary."
"He was what?"
"The dictionary, Ron... He was reading it, to find words."
It took a moment for Ron to burst out laughing. "Wow. I didn't think that he would take me so seriously."
"Ron," she said seriously. "What is going on?"
"You have to talk to Harry," he informed her. "He'd kill me if I said anything, and you know that I would tell you if I could."
Hermione, undoubtedly, had many more questions, but she didn't ask them. Just from this little interaction with her redheaded friend, she knew that whatever had Harry so bothered was something big. And, as she stood up and started on her way back to Gryffindor Tower, she just knew that the her they referred to in their notes was her, Hermione Granger.
Hermione was actually surprised to find Harry sitting in the Common Room. A part of her was convinced he would have gone up to his dormitory, but she was somewhat grateful to spot him sitting in what she would term 'a corner' even if the room was, technically, round. He was sitting on a bean bag, his legs up in front of him, with his now ever-present dictionary in his lap.
She moved towards him immediately, intent on getting him to talk to her. She barely gave him time to react to her presence as she unceremoniously moved his legs out of the way and flopped down beside him, practically sandwiching him between her own body and the wall.
"Hermione?" he squeaked, his dictionary almost falling to the floor.
"No," she said, raising a hand to keep him quiet. "Ron said that the two of you got into a disagreement and I want to know why."
Harry pressed his lips together, determined not to say anything.
Hermione sighed, clearly noticing. "Look, I'm sorry I was so curious about your dictionary-reading, but even you have to admit that it's a little strange. I've known you since you were eleven, and I've never seen you read the dictionary before. What is all this odd behaviour, Harry? You and me, we don't keep secrets from each other."
Harry took a deep breath. "I don't know what you want me to tell you."
Hermione took out the piece of parchment. "Well, why don't you start with this?"
Harry took the parchment from her and, like Ron, his eyes widened. "Where - umm, where did you get this?"
"On the table in the library," she explained. "You left it behind."
Harry placed the parchment in his dictionary and closed it. "You were never supposed to see it," he said.
"But I did," she said. "Now, are you going to tell me what you and Ron had your disagreement about?"
Harry heaved a sigh. "It doesn't matter."
"Clearly, it matters," she said pointedly. "You and Ron never fight like this. I mean, you're still bleeding."
Harry touched his lip with his left forefinger, as if he was just remembering. "Ron wants me to tell you something, but I don't know how to."
"Tell me what?"
"What does it matter anyway?" he asked sadly. "It isn't as if you'll believe me."
She blinked, recalling their conversation from earlier. He had gone off after he asked her why she didn't believe him. "Try me," she offered.
Harry looked at her, his eyes betraying him. He was sure that, if she looked closely enough, he wouldn't even have to open his mouth. "Tell me, Hermione, would you believe me if I told you that I love you?"
Hermione thought she was prepared for what he was going to say, but she was wrong. So very wrong.
Harry didn't even skip a beat. "Do you know how they define love in the dictionary, Hermione?"
She was too stunned to speak, so she just shook her head.
He met her gaze, speaking from memory. "Love. Noun. Verb. One: a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. Two: a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, or three, which is my personal favourite: the feelings that I have for you."
The two of them sat and stared at each other for a long while, before Harry couldn't handle the silence anymore.
"Do you need more?" he continued, slight panic reaching his tone. "Because I have more. I've been looking for more for quite some time, so do you want to know how I define love?" He didn't wait for any type of response this time. "It's the way that my heart rate picks up whenever you're around. It's the way that I want to do everything in my power to make sure that you have an endless supply of great days. It's the way that, out of everybody I've ever encountered; it's with only you that I truly feel safe.
"I can't go a day without hearing your voice. I never want to see you hurt or sad. All I want to do with my time is sit with you, look at you, talk to you. I feel like you're a part of me; that whatever affects you, affects me too, and that's incredibly scary because I've been alone my entire life. I want to be better for you; I want to be worthy of you.
"I'll probably never get another chance to tell you all of this, because I've clearly just ruined our friendship, but I need you to know that this is everything I've ever wanted to tell you. I love you. I absolutely adore you, even when you're annoying the hell out of me with your nagging me to study and your stubborn rule-following tendencies. Nobody has ever understood me like you do. Nobody really bothered to get to know the real me before, and I don't know anyone in this world who I could ever dream of living a happy life with, other than you.
"So, what I'm really trying to say is that the definition of love, to me, is you."
Hermione just stared at him, willing her brain to process faster. She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out.
"So, there," Harry said, handing her the dictionary before he struggled to get to his feet. "I just thought that you should know. Ron was right. You definitely deserve to know."
Hermione still couldn't find the words as she watched him walk away from her, knowing that, if she didn't say something now; their friendship really would be ruined. Even though she had no idea what to say to him, she had to speak.
"Harry," she called out, setting the dictionary aside and rising to her feet. "Harry?"
When he stopped at the first step leading to the boys' dormitories and turned to look at her, Hermione was hit by the obvious pain she could see in his eyes. He'd just poured his heart out and she said nothing.
Hermione made her way towards where he was standing and moved to stand right in front of him. "Look at me," she said gently. She waited until he was looking her in the eye to speak again. "You don't get to just say all that stuff and then walk away," she said seriously. "Some things take time to process."
Harry wasn't sure what to say because he wasn't entirely sure what she was saying.
"I believe you."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"I said that I believe you," she repeated.
"You do?"
"Wow, you are surprised, aren't you?"
He swallowed. "Are you?"
The more she thought about it, the clearer her answer became. "No."
"Good."
"I don't know how to respond to you," she admitted. "And I know it's surprising that there's something I don't know, but this is definitely it. Feelings are confusing."
"You don't hate me?"
"Why would I hate you?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. I thought about every possible scenario and I guess that this wasn't one of them."
"So none of your scenarios were positive then?"
"I don't know if you've noticed, Miss Granger, but things don't tend to work out all that well for me," he said. "This included."
Hermione reached for his hand and, now that she knew about his feelings; it just felt different. There was no longer any innocence in such a gesture and Hermione wasn't sure what to feel about that.
Harry stared down at their entwined fingers, his heart thumping in his chest. "Why are you so calm about this?" he had to ask.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Umm, I don't know," he admitted. "I just, well, I was worried."
Hermione squeezed his hand. "Please don't be. We're okay, Harry."
"But what happens now?"
Hermione took a breath, gathering her thoughts. "Now, I suppose, we talk about it. You don't get to just walk away, okay?"
He swallowed. "Okay."
She smiled at him. "I always imagined that we would sit down and have a very mature conversation about this," she admitted.
"So you've thought about it before?"
Hermione blushed, clearly caught. "I have," she confessed.
That definitely piqued his interest. "And just what else have you thought about, Miss Granger?"
"I don't think you should be asking questions that you don't want the answers to," she warned gently.
"Fine," he said; "answer me this then: will you go out on a date with me? To Hogsmeade?"
Hermione just stared at him, her head spinning. Having him confess his feelings didn't feel as scary as this, and she couldn't truthfully say why that was.
"This is me, Hermione; I'm taking action now," he said, sensing her hesitation. "I didn't get it before, but I get it now. It's never really been about the words, has it? You don't listen to words. You listen to actions."
Before she could stop herself, Hermione threw her arms around him, squeezing him in a patented bone-crushing hug.
Harry stumbled back a step before he hugged her back. "If I'm reading your actions correctly, I'm going to assume that this means yes."
"It does," she said, pulling back and releasing him.
"I love you," he said again, surprising them both.
Hermione supposed that it would take her a while to get used to it, but she felt extremely calm.
"Is that okay?" he asked suddenly, sounding slightly panicked. "Can I say those words?"
Hermione reached up to kiss his cheek. "It's the actions that count anyway, Harry," she said reassuringly, smiling up at him. "Those are just the words you say."