Driven
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I just own the plot and anybody you aren't familiar with. Summary: Harry is an angst-ridden teenager that has been through many traumatizing events. His best friends are the world to him...but one of them is much more...H/HR,R/HR.
"Look, Harry, I don't know what to do, alright? He's getting more jealous and jealous every time I see him. I mean, the first time we started out, the Viktor thing was sort of cute in a way, you know? And I was a bit discouraged about him and Fleur, but...now it's gone too far." Sixteen year old Hermione Granger sprawled across her armchair, sinking her head back into the warmth.
"You can't blame him for being overprotective, 'Mione. I mean, after all, it's been over five years and now that he's finally got you...guess he's just a bit insecure and stuff," Harry tried to explain, running his hand through his messy black hair.
"I knew you would take his side! But God, Dean was just telling me he liked my hair -and Ron went all mad at me for no reason at all. What kind of a person is that?" she exclaimed.
"When you're done talking about me," said a voice from the doorway. Harry and Hermione both turned their heads and saw Ronald Weasley, glaring at them from the potrait hole. He entered himself into the common room and without so much as a glance at them, stomped up the stairs.
Harry felt his pulse tightening slightly. He had been in fights with Ron before, of course, but his glaring face looked so angry that he felt it would take more than a week to get over. He examined Hermione, who's cheeks were now flushed with embarrassment, her hair's tiny ringlets framing the sides of her face, frowning a bit. She had always looked cute when she was deep in thought - the way her legs were crossed made Harry gulp...
"I better go talk to him," she said, sighing finally. Harry restrained a groan of disappointment as she got up, her robes swaying behind her. It was hard to pinpoint the exact date that Harry had started having feelings for Hermione, perhaps it had started when the tingling sensation had spread in the end of his fourth year when she had kissed him on the cheek - or perhaps it was just a way to replace Cho. It was strange, how he felt no anger nor resentment toward the pretty Asian, although she had acted quite selfishly. Hermione occupied his thoughts most of the time he was in Potions, how soft her lips were and looked; but he had ignored these feelings of attraction. It was just hormones, he convinced himself. Nothing else. He would never act on his feelings. Hermione knew who she liked - it was Ron. They were clearly in love, even though they acted like they hated each other most of the times, arguing. But sometimes Harry would come into the common room and catch Hermione laughing at one of Ron's queries, or sometimes she would lean over, her hair brushing against Ron's face while she checked over his Transfiguration essays. He looked gleaming when they had finally gotten together at the start of their sixth year, and Harry had found it hard to be very happy for them. What he felt like was his stomach lurching whenever he caught Hermione kissing Ron before a Qudditch match, wishing him good luck, not completely ignoring Harry, but giving Ron the special treatment.
Harry knew he was being selfish, conceited and arrogant. After all, Ron hardly got anything, and now that he was a Prefect and had a nice girlfriend, it wasn't as though he didn't deserve it. Harry waited a few moments before he decided he would sleep in his armchair in the common room. He knew it was crazy - but he knew he would regret it if he went upstairs, where Hermione and Ron were surely making up by now.
***
The next morning, Hermione and Ron were over the fight. Ron was extra careful, it seemed, not to do anything to upset his girlfriend. She smiled at him, and Harry watched her intently - it was not often he saw her smile like that, she had never smiled at him like that - a small, lopsided smirk that seemed to create the twinkle in her eyes. Her lips looked glossy and tender, and as she pushed her hair between her fingers and behind her ears, she looked more than ever like the pretty girl who had attended the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum.
***
"Can you believe it?" Ron complained, his mouth turned into a furious frown. "Snape that old bastard - he gave me detention again!"
"If only you would let me help you on that Polyjuice Potion, Ron. We've done it before, you know..." Hermione reasoned.
"How was I supposed to know that I did one of the ingredients wrong?" he hissed.
"By checking the book," said Harry, amused.
"Oh, shut up," he replied, annoyed with himself. He kissed Hermione quickly on the cheek before he went back to the Potions classroom for the date of his detention.
Harry turned away at this sight of affection - his stomach lurched once more as Hermione turned to look at him and they walked beside each other, heading to the Great Hall. They were both silent - Hermione's nose was twitching as she stared intensely at her shoes. There was something on her mind, Harry knew. He always knew. He liked to see her think - it made him feel comfortable.
"What's wrong?" he finally asked.
She looked up at him, throughly startled. "Oh...I was just thinking. About Ron and all."
"Oh." This was not the answer Harry was looking for.
"Listen, Harry," she suddenly said. "I think ...I need to go to the library, okay?"
"Okay," he agreed, his voice sounding dead-prone. She walked away, and soon her footsteps were miniscule.
Harry stopped walking, losing his appetite. He didn't want to eat - all he wanted to do was to drown in the fantasies of kissing Hermione, holding her, but knew if she ever found out, she would be repulsed by him. They were only friends, and it had to stay that way.
He turned his back on the direction of the Great Hall, going to the common room.
Harry Potter had never envied Ron so much in his life.
*** Somebody was already in the common room when he entered. He stared, widening his eyes at the sight before him. Hermione was hunched up, her back to him, in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. She had her knees touching the point of her small, dimpled chin, and she was lightly sobbing.
"Hermione?" he said cautiously.
She didn't hear him. Her shoulders were shaking. A stab of pain hit Harry's spine. He did not like to see her in so much sadness - but he was puzzled. What could she be crying for? A bad grade? Perhaps something had happened...
Silently, he walked upstairs to his dormotories, not feeling right disturbing her. But the blare of her crying was still ringing in his ears. If he was Ron...he could've put his arms around her, kiss her...touch her in her most sensitive places, make her feel better...if only.
He had imagined what it would feel like for quite a while. The only real kiss he had was with Cho, and it was a quick, colliding of the lips. And she had been crying about Cedric. It did not count very much to his experience. The thought of Ron kissing Hermione passionately...him holding her in bed...
How far had they went? he thought. It's none of your buisness, a tiny voice retorted angrily at him. But what if they had slept together? They were both sixteen after all; but he couldn't imagine Hermione doing this very fast in their relationship. He wondered how it would feel, to make love to her, kiss her tenderly...push the hair off her face...
He shifted, feeling rather uncomfortable. He couldn't be thinking about these things, especially since she was his best friend's girlfriend...it would be wrong.
Harry threw his robes off carelessly, and it hit the floor. There was a clank as it did.
Curious, he picked up his robes and searched within the pockets - of course, it was vial of Polyjuice Potion Snape had made them do. He looked at it, palming it in his hand as he relaxed against his bed.
He looked over at Ron's bed, which was placed beside his. A crazy thought occured to him as he went toward the bed, and seperated the curtains around it. He leaned over, eyeing the white sheets.
To his surprise, he saw a thinlike flaming piece of hair on one of the pillows. Carefully, he prodded it in his finger.
He took the small vial of Polyjuice Potion, and let the flaming hair swim into the liquid.
It turned a bloodred color.
It sizzled.
***
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I just own the plot and anybody you aren't familiar with. Summary: Harry is an angst-ridden teenager that has been through many traumatizing events. His best friends are the world to him...but one of them is much more...H/HR,R/HR.
"Look, Harry, I don't know what to do, alright? He's getting more jealous and jealous every time I see him. I mean, the first time we started out, the Viktor thing was sort of cute in a way, you know? And I was a bit discouraged about him and Fleur, but...now it's gone too far." Sixteen year old Hermione Granger sprawled across her armchair, sinking her head back into the warmth.
"You can't blame him for being overprotective, 'Mione. I mean, after all, it's been over five years and now that he's finally got you...guess he's just a bit insecure and stuff," Harry tried to explain, running his hand through his messy black hair.
"I knew you would take his side! But God, Dean was just telling me he liked my hair -and Ron went all mad at me for no reason at all. What kind of a person is that?" she exclaimed.
"When you're done talking about me," said a voice from the doorway. Harry and Hermione both turned their heads and saw Ronald Weasley, glaring at them from the potrait hole. He entered himself into the common room and without so much as a glance at them, stomped up the stairs.
Harry felt his pulse tightening slightly. He had been in fights with Ron before, of course, but his glaring face looked so angry that he felt it would take more than a week to get over. He examined Hermione, who's cheeks were now flushed with embarrassment, her hair's tiny ringlets framing the sides of her face, frowning a bit. She had always looked cute when she was deep in thought - the way her legs were crossed made Harry gulp...
"I better go talk to him," she said, sighing finally. Harry restrained a groan of disappointment as she got up, her robes swaying behind her. It was hard to pinpoint the exact date that Harry had started having feelings for Hermione, perhaps it had started when the tingling sensation had spread in the end of his fourth year when she had kissed him on the cheek - or perhaps it was just a way to replace Cho. It was strange, how he felt no anger nor resentment toward the pretty Asian, although she had acted quite selfishly. Hermione occupied his thoughts most of the time he was in Potions, how soft her lips were and looked; but he had ignored these feelings of attraction. It was just hormones, he convinced himself. Nothing else. He would never act on his feelings. Hermione knew who she liked - it was Ron. They were clearly in love, even though they acted like they hated each other most of the times, arguing. But sometimes Harry would come into the common room and catch Hermione laughing at one of Ron's queries, or sometimes she would lean over, her hair brushing against Ron's face while she checked over his Transfiguration essays. He looked gleaming when they had finally gotten together at the start of their sixth year, and Harry had found it hard to be very happy for them. What he felt like was his stomach lurching whenever he caught Hermione kissing Ron before a Qudditch match, wishing him good luck, not completely ignoring Harry, but giving Ron the special treatment.
Harry knew he was being selfish, conceited and arrogant. After all, Ron hardly got anything, and now that he was a Prefect and had a nice girlfriend, it wasn't as though he didn't deserve it. Harry waited a few moments before he decided he would sleep in his armchair in the common room. He knew it was crazy - but he knew he would regret it if he went upstairs, where Hermione and Ron were surely making up by now.
***
The next morning, Hermione and Ron were over the fight. Ron was extra careful, it seemed, not to do anything to upset his girlfriend. She smiled at him, and Harry watched her intently - it was not often he saw her smile like that, she had never smiled at him like that - a small, lopsided smirk that seemed to create the twinkle in her eyes. Her lips looked glossy and tender, and as she pushed her hair between her fingers and behind her ears, she looked more than ever like the pretty girl who had attended the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum.
***
"Can you believe it?" Ron complained, his mouth turned into a furious frown. "Snape that old bastard - he gave me detention again!"
"If only you would let me help you on that Polyjuice Potion, Ron. We've done it before, you know..." Hermione reasoned.
"How was I supposed to know that I did one of the ingredients wrong?" he hissed.
"By checking the book," said Harry, amused.
"Oh, shut up," he replied, annoyed with himself. He kissed Hermione quickly on the cheek before he went back to the Potions classroom for the date of his detention.
Harry turned away at this sight of affection - his stomach lurched once more as Hermione turned to look at him and they walked beside each other, heading to the Great Hall. They were both silent - Hermione's nose was twitching as she stared intensely at her shoes. There was something on her mind, Harry knew. He always knew. He liked to see her think - it made him feel comfortable.
"What's wrong?" he finally asked.
She looked up at him, throughly startled. "Oh...I was just thinking. About Ron and all."
"Oh." This was not the answer Harry was looking for.
"Listen, Harry," she suddenly said. "I think ...I need to go to the library, okay?"
"Okay," he agreed, his voice sounding dead-prone. She walked away, and soon her footsteps were miniscule.
Harry stopped walking, losing his appetite. He didn't want to eat - all he wanted to do was to drown in the fantasies of kissing Hermione, holding her, but knew if she ever found out, she would be repulsed by him. They were only friends, and it had to stay that way.
He turned his back on the direction of the Great Hall, going to the common room.
Harry Potter had never envied Ron so much in his life.
*** Somebody was already in the common room when he entered. He stared, widening his eyes at the sight before him. Hermione was hunched up, her back to him, in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. She had her knees touching the point of her small, dimpled chin, and she was lightly sobbing.
"Hermione?" he said cautiously.
She didn't hear him. Her shoulders were shaking. A stab of pain hit Harry's spine. He did not like to see her in so much sadness - but he was puzzled. What could she be crying for? A bad grade? Perhaps something had happened...
Silently, he walked upstairs to his dormotories, not feeling right disturbing her. But the blare of her crying was still ringing in his ears. If he was Ron...he could've put his arms around her, kiss her...touch her in her most sensitive places, make her feel better...if only.
He had imagined what it would feel like for quite a while. The only real kiss he had was with Cho, and it was a quick, colliding of the lips. And she had been crying about Cedric. It did not count very much to his experience. The thought of Ron kissing Hermione passionately...him holding her in bed...
How far had they went? he thought. It's none of your buisness, a tiny voice retorted angrily at him. But what if they had slept together? They were both sixteen after all; but he couldn't imagine Hermione doing this very fast in their relationship. He wondered how it would feel, to make love to her, kiss her tenderly...push the hair off her face...
He shifted, feeling rather uncomfortable. He couldn't be thinking about these things, especially since she was his best friend's girlfriend...it would be wrong.
Harry threw his robes off carelessly, and it hit the floor. There was a clank as it did.
Curious, he picked up his robes and searched within the pockets - of course, it was vial of Polyjuice Potion Snape had made them do. He looked at it, palming it in his hand as he relaxed against his bed.
He looked over at Ron's bed, which was placed beside his. A crazy thought occured to him as he went toward the bed, and seperated the curtains around it. He leaned over, eyeing the white sheets.
To his surprise, he saw a thinlike flaming piece of hair on one of the pillows. Carefully, he prodded it in his finger.
He took the small vial of Polyjuice Potion, and let the flaming hair swim into the liquid.
It turned a bloodred color.
It sizzled.
***