Chapter 6

Harry couldn't be sure what exactly changed between him and Hermione, but something definitely did. The conversations became more profound and the touches lasted for much longer. Their eyes also started to meet more often and their looks started to linger.

Harry found the whole thing rather exciting, and frightening. Hermione was his best friend. In all the years he had known her, he had never been so electrified by her presence. He was suddenly always looking forward to seeing her and talking to her and even just standing next to her. Her presence had a calming, yet electrifying effect on him.

The two of them existed that way for several days before something had to happen to make them face things as they were: the Slug Club party.

The party itself was slowly becoming a thorn in Harry's side. And in Hermione's. She was cautiously coming to accept that maybe she had been wrong about everything, and merely accepting that was quite a feat for her. Could it really have always been Harry? Suddenly, he was all her mind would think about when it wasn't focused on schoolwork. Even then, in the midst of her light reading, she would find her thoughts drifting to some sassy thing he said or that ridiculous smile of mischief he wore more often than not.

"You still haven't answered the question," Hermione said, as they walked the corridors towards the Great Hall for dinner the following Thursday.

"Which question?" Harry asked.

"Who are you taking to the party?"

Harry stopped walking to look at her. "Oh, right, hmm, that…" He sighed. "And it's not as if we can just not go, now can we?"

She gave him a sideways look. "Professor Slughorn would be so heartbroken. He seems to be quite a delicate man."

"That is true," he agreed quietly.

She hit the back of her hand against his abdomen. "But seriously, what are we going to do about this party, Harry? It's actually starting to stress me out."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Ideally, you'd want to take Ron…"

"And you'd want to take Ginny."

"But you can't do that, because, well, he is acting like a git. And taken."

Hermione just smiled. "And you can't take Ginny because, well, for obvious reasons. So who are you going to take?"

Harry knew what he wanted to say, but he knew he couldn't. Or shouldn't. Whichever one, the word 'you' was never going to escape his lips. "You're so worried about me; who are you going to take?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She was thinking quite hard about something, and Harry couldn't take his eyes off her face; it was that kind of mesmerizing. "I might have an idea," she eventually said, her voice soft and barely audible. There were a lot of feelings going on inside of her that she needed to get a hold of before she ended up saying or doing something she would regret. "But I should probably check on that before I mention it to you."

He frowned. "Okay," he said skeptically. "But tell me this, do I need to be worried about anything right now?"

She just laughed, before she continued walking, prompting him to do the same. Truthfully her – lack of – answer didn't do much to calm him. Which was probably why he found it so difficult to fall asleep when he finally climbed into bed.

The thing was that Harry could count on one hand the number of girls he could actually stand to be around. Hermione was on the list, definitely right at the top. Ginny, of course. Although, at present, he turned into a mumbling teenage boy whenever she was around. And it no longer seemed to be out of nervousness. The truth was that he just wasn't sure what they would talk about anymore. Cho was probably also on the list, even though their time together had been rather strange. Maybe Katie, on her good days. And Luna.

Luna!

Harry would ask Luna. There was an idea. He decided. In the morning, he would ask her.

Unfortunately for him, Luna wasn't anywhere to be found at breakfast in the Great Hall. And neither was Hermione. He would have been worried, if his brown-haired best friend hadn't eventually rolled into Potions class right after him, looking a bit wistful. She seemed particularly distracted though, as if something had happened, and she made a point not to look in his direction. It confused him, and made him believe he had done something wrong. Although, he had no idea what, and it hurt him more than he would have liked to admit.

Professor Slughorn was especially excited about his upcoming Slug Club party that he thought it best to demonstrate a particularly intricate potion recipe. That meant that very little talking could occur among the students, especially with Harry deciding to be a diligent student and all.

After the lesson, Hermione rushed off to Muggle Studies, while Harry and Ron strolled in the opposite direction. As they walked, Harry was struck by the thought that he didn't feel like he could actually talk to Ron about what was going on with him. It didn't have anything to do with his changing, confusing feelings towards Hermione or his changing, confusing feelings towards Ginny. It was to do with Ron.

The two boys weren't seeing eye to eye and neither one could quite pinpoint where the problem was, which was mainly because they weren't talking like they usually did. And Harry supposed they were both too stubborn to broach the subject with any seriousness.

By the time it was lunch, Harry had barely said more than a greeting to Hermione, and he hadn't yet laid eyes on Luna, which was enough to put him in a foul mood. At least, though, the white-haired witch was in the Great Hall. Before Harry lost his nerve, he headed straight towards where she was sitting at the Ravenclaw table. He sat down beside her, facing away from the table and started to speak.

By the time the entire conversation was over, Harry would have given an arm and a leg to forget it had ever happened.

He definitely wasn't hungry anymore. He was too hurt and confused for food. And mad. He was painfully angry, and he wasn't sure why that was. Well, he had an idea, but it definitely wasn't justified. Surely.

Harry retreated to the Gryffindor common room to clear his head. Thankfully, everyone was at lunch, which gave him time alone to wrap his head around what he was feeling. What was he feeling?

It took Hermione fifteen minutes to find him. From his demeanour, she could immediately sense that something was off, and she was almost sure it had nothing to do with her. Or it had everything to do with her.

"Harry?" she asked softly, moving to stand in front of where he was sitting on their famous couch.

He took his time looking up at her, almost not wanting to. But his need to see her face outweighed the fact that he was mad at her. And he was. Unjustifiably though. Hurt as well.

Hermione read it on his face, like only she could. "You're mad?" she asked curiously.

Harry's brow creased. How could she tell?

"You're mad at me?" she inferred from his mystified expression.

"I am not."

"Harry, I know all your expressions and I can clearly tell that you're mad. But you're not just mad; you're mad at me specifically. Why?"

The fact that she claimed to know all of his expressions worried him for a moment. How was he supposed to hide his feelings from her then? As confusing as they were. It worried him the most because he didn't want her to be able to tell that some things had changed for him.

"Harry," Hermione prompted.

"I asked Luna to accompany me to the party," he eventually said, his face set in a heavy frown.

"Oh," she said, smiling, even though she was confused by his facial expression. "That's a brilliant idea. Why didn't I think of that?"

"She said no," he muttered curtly.

Hermione's breath caught. "Oh?" She kept her eyes on him, mindful of the seemingly permanent creases on his forehead. "But that doesn't seem to be the reason you're mad?"

Gosh, what kind of witch was she?

Harry nodded once. "Apparently she wouldn't feel right going with me; especially after the heart-to-heart the two of you apparently had this morning."

Hermione just stared at him, trying her best not to show him her panic. What had Luna told him? She was trying to figure out why he was reacting the way he was, and his tone of voice definitely wasn't helping.

"I don't know what that all means but I guess it just means that I'm going alone, or I'm not going to go at all," he eventually concluded, huffing.

"Don't be ridiculous," she reprimanded.

He had to say it, the thing bothering him the most: "I mean, I don't even care what you talked about; it's just that, umm, you had a heart-to-heart with Luna."

Again, she didn't understand his tone. It didn't match his facial expression. "Okay?"

"With Luna."

Slowly, she started to understand. She hadn't had the heart-to-heart with him.

Harry looked down at his hands lying in his lap. He suddenly felt very small. "It's just that, well, I suppose I started to think that, umm, I was the person with who you now had your heart-to-hearts."

She could have sworn her heart swelled to quadruple its size. A smile spread across her face as she finally moved to sit down beside him. "Oh, Harry, you are," she assured him, putting a hand over both of his. "You most definitely are. But, and I don't mean to make you feel awkward or uncomfortable, there are just certain things that only girls can talk about, if you know what I mean."

Harry slowly turned his head to look at her, feeling quite embarrassed. "Otherwise you would have talked to me?" he asked for clarification.

"Of course. You're my number one man, Harry Potter." It was the truth. "I just needed a girl's opinion on something and, well, Luna is Luna, so I'm going to need to hit the library to decipher exactly what she was trying to tell me."

That made him laugh, making the sometimes permanent frown on his face disappear.

"I'll always talk to you, Harry," she added for good measure. "And I'm sorry that Luna said no. I don't know why she did that." It was a blatant lie though. She knew exactly why.

He let out a defeated breath. "I'm sure she has her reasons," he said. "She's still my friend nonetheless. It's probably short notice anyway. You know how girls need at least seventy two hours to be ready in time."

She punched his arm in mock shock. "We so do not."

"Well, you don't," he said, tilting his head. "You just have to arrive, and you'll still be the most beautiful witch around."

If her heart could have grown any bigger, it definitely would have. Her cheeks burned deep red, and she had to look away from him to calm herself.

Harry sensed her embarrassment, though it didn't stop him from asking his next question. "So, that thing you said you had to check on, about your date to the party; are you ever going to tell me?"

"Gosh," she said, shaking her head. "I actually didn't need Luna to tell me that was always going to be a terrible idea."

It was Harry's turn to read her face. It came to him quite quickly. "Hermione, tell me you didn't?"

Her eyes widened. "Didn't what?"

"Please, please tell me you are not going with Cormac?" he practically pleaded.

Hermione waited a beat before she responded. "Well, honestly, I did consider it," she admitted; "but then I had a better idea."

"Of course, being the brightest witch of our generation and all."

Realising she still had hold of his hands, she squeezed them to keep him quiet. "I thought that, seeing as we can't actually, umm, go with the people we want to…" She had to pause to get through the words that felt like a lie. "Well, I thought that maybe, umm, you and I could go together."

Harry stared at her for a long moment, having to force himself to blink. "Are you sure?" he found himself asking, just managing to keep it together. The way she was looking at him made his insides twist, but in a good way.

"Of course," she said, starting to feel more confident about her suggestion. Then: "Why wouldn't I want to go with my best friend?"

Right, of course, Harry thought, best friend.

Harry loved the fact that she was his best friend. He always would, but he also hated that that was all they would ever seem to be.

Even though they were really only going as friends, Harry was in a constant state of stress. Nothing managed to calm him. Not even Quidditch practice that Saturday morning was enough to stop him from imagining every way the evening could go.

Hermione did not go out to lie on the grass while he did his speed drills, which was fine with him. She was a girl. Girls needed time to get ready; to deem themselves presentable. Slow, through Hermione, Harry came to realise that sometimes girls didn't actually dress up for others; they did it for themselves.

Hermione claimed that she wanted to feel pretty, and Harry wondered why she didn't feel that way all the time. The girl was beautiful, inside and out.

Harry, of course, was ready and waiting in the Gryffindor common room first anyway. He stood alone, surprisingly, and willed his breathing to remain steady. Everything about this evening screamed of something more and Harry wanted it to go in a certain direction; a direction that could change everything.

Hermione didn't make Harry wait too long though. And, similar to the Yule Ball, she rendered him speechless when she descended the steps. It wasn't even that his mouth wouldn't move; it was that his brain wouldn't think.

Hermione came to a stop right in front of him. "Looking very handsome, Mr Potter."

Still, he couldn't speak.

"Shall we?" she offered, starting to move past him.

Harry gently took hold of her arm, stopping her. "Wait," he whispered. "I need a minute to catch my breath."

Cue Hermione's burning cheeks. She could barely look at him.

"I don't even, umm, I just, well, you look," he mumbled nonsensically. Eventually, he cleared his throat, finally putting his thoughts together. "It's not fair, you know?"

"What?"

He grinned. "Your looking the way you do, Hermione. Honestly, every girl is inferior, and every boy is just stupid. Why don't you do us all a favour and turn down the beauty?"

That was her Harry.

He put out his arm. "Shall we?"

She slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead the way.

Half an hour into the event, Harry's initial reluctance to participate in the festivities was already forgotten. The evening turned into quite a memorable one. Professor Slughorn was as animated as ever, and Harry barely saw Ginny. He didn't even care why that might be.

Hermione had his full attention and the rest of the room fell into the insignificant background. It just amazed him that he had ever seen her as anything less than spectacular. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her, afraid he might miss a look on her face or a word she said.

After the entire party was over, Harry and Hermione hung around to talk to Professor Slughorn. Harry did it partly because Dumbledore had asked him to, but mainly because he didn't want the night to end. Because, when it ended, he would have to say goodnight to Hermione.

Professor Slughorn cleared them out just after midnight, and the two of them roamed the corridors for a while, buzzing with positive excitement. All in all, Harry was convinced the evening had turned into quite the success.

"Do you know what I want to do?" Hermione suddenly asked, injecting even more enthusiasm into her tone.

Harry marveled at her. "And what exactly is that?"

The way he looked at her made her feel embarrassed, which made her mouth clamp shut.

"Oh come on," Harry said, nudging her softly with his elbow. "You can tell me. I promise I won't laugh."

"It's not even that bad," she said, shaking her head. "It's just stupid, and even childish."

"And I won't care either way. What do you want to do? Let's do it. I'm all for it. Honestly."

Hermione was slightly taken aback by his eagerness. But, without much more pressing, she finally told him what she wanted to do. Which was exactly how they found themselves lying on the grass on which they had their very first flying lesson all those years ago, looking up at the stars.

Harry shifted quite a bit to make sure that he was comfortably lying beside her. Because, as it were, they were about to have a conversation he would probably never forget.