A/N: I'm a few days late on posting this chapter, but here it is. I'm so curious to see what you guys think, especially when you get to the end. Happy reading!

Thank you so much to LeanaM - my alpha and beta - who I have totally overloaded with chapters *hides*

Shout out to the reviewers: Deliberatee, spiritofsilence, vyoom, LightofEvolution, tacitblue1973, Deathcrow, Cheryl, CastleVC, happiness8000, god of all, storybook thumb, JuliSt, Pokemark17, dizziestdaydream, this-love-is-sirius, GeekMom13, bexis1, Zillawisp, pawsrule, ahhrreader, myladyhitomi, mega700201, Pharies, midnightscar17, and the guests!

XxX

~oOo*oOo~

"Today we will be brewing Elixir to Induce Euphoria," Slughorn said, smiling at the students. "Can anyone tell me what this potion does?" He looked around the room. "Ah, Mr Nott, take it away, my boy."

"Certainly, Professor." Nott flashed a smile. "The Elixir to Induce Euphoria is a potion yellow in color, with the intention of inducing a sense of irrational happiness in the drinker."

Harry suppressed an irritated sigh, wishing it was Hermione that had answered the question. That would have felt normal at least.

"Very good!" Slughorn praised. "Five points to Slytherin." He shifted his attention back to the class. "Can anyone name a few side effects of ingesting this potion?"

Nott's hand shot up again, provoking Harry to recklessly raise his own when he noticed no one else would challenge the Slytherin.

"Ah." Slughorn's eyes widened in surprise. "Mr Potter?"

"The potion may cause the drinker to experience the need to sing excessively, or tweak their nose," Harry said, adapting his most Hermione-like recitation skills. "Adding a sprig of peppermint should counteract these side effects."

"Very good!" Slughorn looked overjoyed. "Take five points for Gryffindor." He turned around and began scrawling names on the chalkboard. "You will work with a partner. Refer to the blackboard for your assignment."

The students groaned as Slughorn continued jotting down the names, but some got up to seek out their partners. When Harry's name was written next to Brown, he silently cast a spell, wand clenched under his desk, and shuffled the letters.

Potter.

Granger.

Harry smiled at his work and looked around quickly to make sure no one noticed. "I'll get the supplies, Granger," he called over his shoulder, not deigning to even open his book.

"Potter," Slughorn interrupted. "I put you with Brown, I believe."

Harry gestured to the board. Slughorn glanced up and then frowned.

"My mistake. Carry on."

Harry couldn't help but smirk as he walked to the potion's cabinet and began gathering the ingredients they would need.

When he arrived back to their cauldron, he saw Hermione had already selected a pewter cauldron and filled it with moon-cured water. He began laying out the ingredients in order.

"What a fortuitous partnership," she commented.

Harry shrugged. "Bound to happen occasionally."

"Not really, no." Hermione added the sprig of peppermint watching with satisfaction as the water turned red. "Sluggy usually leaves the Muggle-borns on their own."

His hand paused over the shrivelfig. Was that the case? If so, then Harry had definitely made a risky move in assigning her to him. He reached for the shrivelfig and tossed it into the potion, turning it a turquoise color. "He's getting senile in his old age."

Hermione eyed him skeptically as she stirred the potion magically with her wand. Harry watched as it eventually turned blue and they allowed it to simmer.

He tapped his fingers against his hip, worry gnawing at him now that it was the start of the week already and Hermione hadn't gone to Hogsmeade with him. "I was wondering...what are you going to do for the long weekend?"

Startled, she glanced up, then ducked her head just as quickly, busying herself by selecting porcupine quills. "Same thing I do every weekend, why?"

"You aren't going home?"

"It's too costly to leave just for the weekend...besides, I'd rather stay." Her eyes were glued to the potion as it simmered to purple.

Harry frowned. "Can't you go to Hogsmeade and Apparate?"

She scrunched up her nose and peered at him. "Apparition classes are restricted to select students, not to mention they don't start until the end of the year." She began counting castor beans. "I swear, sometimes you act like you don't know the rules."

"I know them, I just prefer to disregard them."

Her lips twisted in a grin. "I can see that." Once she had selected seven beans, she closed the lid. "Why the sudden interest?"

A strand of hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it back. "No one will be here."

She snorted. "Plenty of people will be here. Not everyone is part of the elite."

He slid his eyes to the now brown potion and added more shrivelfig. "I just don't like the idea of you being here alone. The school can be...dangerous."

She blinked, then blinked again. "I know that, Potter. I've been going here all my life."

"It's getting worse," he argued.

She tossed her hands in a dismissive gesture, before leaning to add the wormwood. "If you're so worried about it, you should be rooting for Neville." Her voice was a mere whisper, but he could tell it had taken a lot of courage for her to tell him that. Her eyes abandoned the yellow potion and sought out his gaze, looking regretful about what she'd just allowed to slip as she studied him.

"This time around, I'd say Neville is a lost cause."

She exhaled a breath he realized she had been holding, but furrowed her brows in confusion. "You act like there were other times."

Because there were. Harry waved his wand over the potion and recited the Cheering Charm to complete it. He rocked back on his heels, admiring their handiwork.

"Perfectly executed." She took a wistful inhale of the elixir.

"We should be partnered up more often." Again, he felt those chocolate-colored orbs studying him. "Want to meet in the Room of Requirement again tonight?"

"I have to finish my Arithmancy homework. Tomorrow?"

Harry shook his head. "There's a party - for some reason - in our common room then."

She chuckled. "Who knew Potter would grow to be averse to parties." A hopeful gleam shone in her eyes. "Wednesday, then?"

"Yeah, that'll work." He'd make it work. Spending time with Hermione was the most euphoric feeling in the world. Better than the twenty points Slughorn gave them for finishing a perfect potion so quickly, and better than any false feeling the elixir they had brewed that day could provoke. His feelings for Hermione were real, and being with her was the purest joy he could hope for.

~oOo*oOo~

Hermione lay on her side, hugging her pillow as she watched Parvati pack for the upcoming weekend from in between her canopy curtains. The witch was bordering hysterical with her excitement, but it paled in comparison to Hermione's. It was finally Wednesday night, and she would meet Potter again in just a few short hours.

"Godric, I didn't think I'd get asked—can you believe I got asked?" Parvati tilted her head as she peered at Hermione. "My sister is so jealous I'm going."

She nodded. "I can. Who wouldn't want to go with you?"

"Down to the wire, that's for sure." Parvati threw herself before her open trunk and made a mess of her clothes. "I didn't expect an invite at all." She shuffled through dress after dress, chucking away one right after another. "None of these are suitable." Her face pinched in distress as she continued to toss perfectly good clothes aside. "And I don't have near enough jewelry for a weekend in Paris. Everything I do have is so out of style."

"You could bring it back?" Hermione suggested. "Say it's a family heirloom and a very old piece of jewelry passed down your family line? Purebloods love their relics."

"Yes, we do. But we also like our new stuff too."

Hermione gave her friend a comforting smile. "Who ended up asking you?"

Parvati gave her a sheepish grin. "Zabini."

Hermione bolted upright in bed. "He's on the outs with Ginevra?"

"I don't know." Parvati went from happy to irritated at the mention of her Gryffindor rival. "Honestly, you do like to take the fun out of things."

Hermione ducked her head, feeling her cheeks go pink with embarrassment.

"I don't care about him and Ginevra. The fact is, I have an in. They can get back together for all I care. Just think of all the wizards that will be there, ripe for the picking. From schools all over the world. I can find an American or African or Bulgarian wizard—who really knows? If Blaise decides to let his eye wander, rest assured I'll be doing the same."

"Of course." Hermione nodded, faking her understanding. "Makes perfect sense."

Parvati arched a delicate brow. "Oh, Hermione—you're so vanilla."

Hermione tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and averted her eyes.

"Honestly, I thought maybe you'd get a man to ask you."

Frowning, she looked at Parvati searchingly, but the girl neglected to explain her strange statement.

"Ugh, look at this bracelet." She held it up between two fingers and glared at it. "Silver and turquoise—so common."

"Parvati," Hermione prodded her to continue.

She flicked the bracelet away. "I saw that quill set you opened this morning. Candies, chocolates, books, and now quills? Next you'll be getting precious gems, and then maybe you could loan me something suitable."

Hermione swallowed. "Oh...that. It's nothing."

"Who's it from?" Suddenly, Parvati looked rather predatory, leaning forward in an effort to get the scoop. Hermione felt instantly uncomfortable.

"I don't know." She waved her hand dismissively. "I don't have a clue who would send me that stuff."

"Well, it's not Potter," Parvati rationalized. "That's definitely not his style."

Hermione's heart inexplicably plummeted.

"I guess it could be Weasley, trying to coax his way into your pants, but it seems like your admirer knows a lot about what you like, and that oaf doesn't notice a thing unless it punches him in the face. Still...I don't know who else it could be."

"A relative?" Hermione attempted to appear contemplative. "I know it can be confusing for Muggles to use wizard post…"

Parvati scoffed. "I think a relative would leave their name." She laid a silk, black dress to the side. "That one isn't so bad, but I'm not sure I could fit in it."

"You can always adjust the seams," Hermione pointed out. "I've seen Bulstrode do that before in Charms."

Parvati shook her head. "I'll bring these five." She threw several dresses on her bed and began looking for heels and jewelry to go with them. "And if all else fails, I'll just have to use all the galleons daddy gave me for the year on something new from Paris."

"Won't he be angry?"

"He'll get over it." Parvati became caught up in plotting her accessories. "But Hermione? If your mysterious admirer ever does come around, feel free to borrow any of that stuff I'm not taking."

Hermione laughed loudly as she fell back into her bed. "Fat chance of that, but thanks anyway."

The notion of joining her Pureblood classmates, many of whom were her tormentors, was preposterous. She was much better off staying at the school than being some wizard's eye candy and imbuing in too much liquor like her mother was prone to doing.

"You might like it if you did come," Parvati told her seriously. "Paris wizarding clubs are on another level. And the other schools aren't as...weird about blood purity as we are here in Britain. The elite in those circles are made up of old, wealthy houses, to be sure, but there are a lot of Newbloods too."

Still, Hermione thought bitterly. A third of my current student body will be there and me attending would just be another form of entertainment. Not that going is a possibility anyway. It'll be just like the Yule Ball—I'll have to sit this one out. Her attention needed to be focused on more important things - like surviving - not frivolous parties in a country far away.

~oOo*oOo~

Harry dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, not wanting to wear a jacket when he wasn't in his robes, though many of his peers did so. He could save his vast collection of expensive clothes for the weekend. He knew he'd sworn off mind altering substances, but part of him wanted to simply keep a bottle glued to his hand and spend the weekend in a firewhisky-induced haze. It would be torture going four days without seeing Hermione, and he'd drive himself crazy thinking about all the trouble she could find herself in.

He wasn't sure if they'd be able to meet again before he left Friday, so he was going to spend as much time as he could with her tonight.

Malfoy had gone over their plans at lunch that morning and Harry had paid attention. The Slytherin inadvertently brought him up to speed on the international portkeys his father had procured for them from the Ministry and on their living arrangements. Harry had a private suite that had apparently been meant for him and Pansy in a lavish hotel in Wizarding Paris. Malfoy assured him the hotel they were staying at had the best accommodations and were the closest to the clubs they would be frequenting. The main party of the weekend was to be poolside on top of the luxury hotel they were staying in. When Malfoy passed out the mind-altering potions he was in charge of getting - as bold as brass in the middle of the Great Hall! - Harry had to physically force his hand over to Malfoy's to pass him the galleons. He would vanish the vials as soon as he was alone.

With the intimidating weekend looming over him, Harry was already in a foul mood, and that wasn't fair to Hermione.

When he made it to the room, she was already there, but it wasn't a practice Room of Requirement that he entered into.

"Hey, Potter," she greeted, smiling warmly. "I got here a bit early, hope you don't mind."

He shook his head, relaxing instantly at the sight of her. She was wearing jeans and a three-quarter sleeve grey shirt. Her hair was high in a ponytail, exposing her slim neck. Hermione didn't even have to try, and she was always the most beautiful witch in the castle. Her beauty was natural, and not forced like so many others.

"I wanted to see how it worked," she explained, gesturing to the interior, which looked close to their own common room. Couches, chairs, divans, and tables were spread across the room in shades of blue and silver. Only the hearth was the same.

"Looks like you got the hang of it."

Her smile widened. "It's the nicest room in the castle. I can't believe it's kept secret. Do you think the Professors know about it?"

Harry thought back to his time, and shook his head. "Not everyone combs through old volumes of books, and I think the ones that do know keep it secret."

"I like that." She nodded, seeming to mull over the idea. "Makes it more special."

Harry strode over to her and sat a decent distance away, further than his body wanted to, next to her on a plush couch.

They went through their usual drills—Harry instructing her to call upon her own magic as she tried spells she knew so well, but had seldom practiced in a classroom setting. He watched as she put a couch on fire, and froze a chair, setting them back to right when she was through. Like before, he began teaching her more spells not in their regulation school books.

He taught her various shield charms that all repelled curses differently. He taught her defense spells that were quick to cast but ruthlessly effective. There were a lot of wand movements and pronunciations for her to remember, but he knew she had a photographic memory. Patiently, he watched and helped when she needed him to. He was enjoying the environment she'd compelled the room to acquire, and time passed by more quickly than he would have preferred.

Last Thursday, they'd stayed up until two in the morning practicing spells, and were close to zombies in their classes the next day. But it was all worth it. Hermione was warming up to him. Slowly but surely, she was letting down her guard and beginning to trust him. She hadn't asked him why he chose to spend time with her in a while, and Harry hoped she was beginning to take him at his word, despite all the damage his previous self had done and even that he had inadvertently caused.

Hermione was laughing more freely, and teasing him with smart quips more and more frequently. She didn't seem as skittish when he would get close to her, and even now, she didn't seem to notice he had sidled right next to her. Harry knew he needed to give her more time to get used to him and to come to terms with the fact that he'd changed, but the prospect of not seeing her for the long weekend propelled him forward.

"There's one spell we can try." He sat back, looking thoughtful.

Hermione immediately jumped on the bait he lured her with. "Which?"

He adored seeing that eager look in her eyes—it reminded him of the Hermione he knew so long ago. The more comfortable she was, the more she became Hermione.

"The Patronus," he whispered, studying her expression all the while.

She reeled back, gripping her wand to her chest. "You know I can't, Harry. I don't have anything strong enough…"

"Sure you can." Harry scooted inches closer to her, so that he could talk into her ear. She did not flinch away. "Pull on your magic and think of something...pleasant." He watched her throat shift as she swallowed. "There has to be something," he coaxed. "Something you've enjoyed above anything else." From this angle, he had the perfect view of the side of her face as a blush crept up her neck. His eyelids lowered. "It doesn't have to be something singular; it can be a combination of things. Maybe when you've found a good book and you've stayed up for hours telling yourself you'll only read one more chapter." She smiled softly, and raised her wand before pulling it to her chest. When he felt her magiccharge through the air, he couldn't resist letting some of his own magic come out and whisper against hers. She gasped when she felt the connection, and Harry dug crescent moons into his palms to keep from reaching for her. "Or when you've answered a question correctly in class and the Professor awards you points. Or when you've solved a particularly troubling Arithmancy problem and suddenly all the complex Runes and symbols come together to make a perfectly reasonable answer that fits." He allowed their magic to wind together, relishing in the feel of her essence as it mingled with his ever so softly. "Maybe you get a wonderful feeling when you perform a complicated bit of magic, like you were born to do. Others may struggle, but you catch on quickly and see the transformation before your very eyes." Her eyelashes fluttered shut and her head lulled to the side. Harry pressed on. "How about the taste of your favorite sweets? Strawberry-lemon tarts and Sugar Quills and Peppermint Toads?" Her eyes snapped open and she gasped once more as she tilted her head to face him. Harry met her stare unflinching, curling his fist into the cushion of the couch to keep from launching himself at her. "Say the spell." His voice was rough, and left no room for argument.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A wispy, pale light shot out from her wand, strong and sure. The light purged the dim room, and spread from her wand in a wide half circle.

"More," he told her. "Push."

Her fingers tightened around the wand as she strengthened the spell, and the light shot out into the room. At first, it was nothing but a white, transparent light, but then a corporeal body began to form in the center of its intensity, morphing and stretching until a creature appeared.

"An ocelot," he observed, watching as it galloped around the room with all the ferocity of the witch who had cast it. "Perfect."

Hermione dropped her wand and fell back on the couch, panting. Her corporeal Patronus ran around the room for another twenty seconds before fizzling out and vanishing completely.

His lips quirked and pride seared through him. His witch was fierce. But she was exhausted, having exerted her energy all night in casting spells she'd never practiced before and all after enduring a grueling school day. It was clear she had depleted her energy. Harry didn't see how it would hurt to offer him some of his own.

Lifting the door of his perfectly guarded control, he allowed more of his power to enter the room, rushing out in all its unrestrained glory and engulfing the two of them in a surge of electrically charged magic. Hermione sat up as if Ennervated, but Harry did not call back his power. Awe blazed in her eyes as she looked at him, tentatively reaching with her own invigorated magic and brushing up against his. Harry's eyes rolled back. Gods, how right it felt. His magic was greedy and threw itself at her as Harry wished he could do. Hermione arched her back ever so slightly as she stretched languidly. His mouth went dry and his eyes darkened as desire flared low in his gut. Fuck...if she isn't the most beautiful witch. Harry was suddenly standing, when had he stood? He felt like he was floating. The magic they shared was more potent than any mind-altering potion Malfoy could conjure.

"I told you you could do it," he said silkily, barely recognizing his own voice.

She sat on the edge of the couch, breathing in shallow gasps as their combined magic surged through them. "Harry."

Not Potter.

But Harry.

The beast Harry kept so carefully controlled stirred.

"It feels so good."

"That's how it feels to control powerful magic and bend it to your will." He dropped to his knees in front of her, so he could look up at her. He wanted to see every movement she made. She made him spellbound. You're lovely. You're beautiful. I want to make you mine.

His hands took hold of her calves before trailing up to her knees and resting on her thighs. Her head fell back and Harry raised himself higher off the floor.

"I like to see you wielding powerful spells, Hermione."

A giddy laugh tumbled from her mouth. "Why?"

"You're beautiful."

Her eyes opened leisurely. She lifted one of the hands she used to anchor herself and placed it on her chest. "I'm beautiful?" Her eyes suggested he was mocking her. How silly was she?

He nodded, eyes falling to her lips.

She leaned forward. "I think you may have accidentally ingested some Euphoria Elixir," she teased. "I don't think anyone in their right mind would call me beautiful."

"I want to kiss you." When had his hands found her waist? He was moving and he didn't even realize it. That was the effect she had on him.

Her mouth fell open and her chest heaved. "Kiss me?"

He nodded again, pulling himself forward.

"I don't think—."

"I never got to," he told her, as if that would clear up any confusion.

Hermione sank her teeth in her lower lip and sat stock still, despite the whirlwind of magic that was causing Harry to teeter where he crouched on his knees. She watched him, as he inched closer, her eyes treading unknown territory as they fell to his mouth. The tightness spread like building tension in his chest.

Harry closed the scant distance and kissed her with the lightest of touches, soft and gentle. He knew it was coming, but he inexplicably wasn't prepared for the delicious heat that poured through his body. All he could think about was the softness of her lips as they brushed his. She sat almost inhumanely still, but her mouth softened against his instinctively. Realization sang like his blood had been laced with a poisonous potion—he was teetering on the edge of something dangerous. The tarnished secret he carried weighed heavily on him, but she was letting him kiss her and it felt too good to stop and think about what was happening.

The tentative kiss grew firmer, as he tried to coax a response from her. Magic thrummed through his body and an insidious voice kept sending him unwanting thoughts. Would he taint her? Would she forgive him if she knew? Would she want him as badly as he wanted her? He wanted desperately to be the man she desired. He began pulling his magic back slowly. A voracious sort of thrill spurred him on, and he nipped at her bottom lip lightly. Slowly, and gradually, she began to move with him. Hesitation plagued every cautious movement, but inquisitive fingers trailed over him, before gripping the hem of his shirt to steady herself. The urge to hold her tight was overpowering, but he settled for gripping her hip instead.

She was warm and pliant and her mouth tasted sweet like some exotic fruit—mangos and freesia and everything delicious and something intrinsically her. He licked her lips, eliciting a gasp from her throat. He swallowed the sounds of her delight and let her fingers explore higher up his chest, resisting the urge to run his hands over every curve. He wanted to capture her lips in a searing kiss and somehow transfer the turmoil he was feeling to her. It was wrong and unsettling, but he was close to bursting and his desire was throbbing. Her arm slithered around the nape of his neck, and then he was carding his fingers in her hair, exploring its decadent texture as he tilted her head to give him better access.

He nibbled on her bottom lip as he'd seen her do so many times, and her eyes popped open, lips parted. Chocolate eyes stared intently at him, heavy lidded, but open and trusting. His jaw was clenched, preparing to be pushed away, but instead she tugged on his collar and hauled him forward, giving him a chaste kiss before darting her tongue out over the seam of his lips. Throbbing harder still, he ignored the stirring in his abdomen and met his tongue with hers, gripping her hair and her waist as he explored the cavern of her mouth.

~oOo*oOo~

The walls were tilting, or maybe it was the floor. Why is the room spinning? Potter was closing in on her from all sides and her heart was pounding a nervous staccato against the wall of her chest. He was kissing her - devouring her - kissing her so deep she was seeing stars. Her right arm was anchored around his neck and her left palm was pressed against the inky blue of his dress shirt. She could feel the erratic rise and fall of his chest with each breath. Her brain went fuzzy. Something about this moment felt momentous, like she'd unconsciously made a decision of some kind. The gentle pull and tug of his lips, the delightful dance of his tongue, the wonderful pressure of his hand on her waist—eviscerated her concerns.

His hair was deceptively soft - better than she had imagined it to be - and she reveled in the feel of her fingernails scraping across his scalp as she held on to him. There was this strange urge to lay down flat and pull him down with her. She knew it was crazy and completely went against how she would behave normally, but she liked it. She liked the notion of grappling with him across the couch. She wanted very much to explore these cravings and the feelings he was stirring, despite the healthy dose of concern that was screaming at her to shove him away. She wanted him to keep going, to expertly guide her through these urges she was experiencing, just like he taught her spells.

Her pulse stuttered in her veins as he broke away to nip at her neck, and she bit back a whimper. Cheeks burning crimson, he pressed her into the couch, and she found she liked the pressure. Her desperation for him bloomed into a throbbing warmth between her legs. He'd claimed he only wanted to kiss her, but that kiss had evolved into something wanton and wondrously delicious in a matter of seconds.

But it's Potter, the small and unwanted voice reminded her. Your tormentor. She flexed her fingers cautiously over his shoulder, remembering that her strained magic was still buzzing between them.

It was Potter, or Harry as she'd called him during the throes of magical bliss, and she couldn't quite trust him fully. Weariness had taken its toll and with that came responsibility. Her thoughts slowly began to return, though she wished they would stay away. A quivering sense of apprehension at what she'd allowed to pass between them began to well up in her chest.

"Harry," she said with as much authority as she could muster. The effect was a bit ruined by the tremble in her voice. "Potter," she tried again, firmer this time. She needed to regain control in this insane situation she found herself in. Parvati would be singing for joy, right now.

He lowered his forehead to press against her own, his eyes fluttering shut. "Sorry," he rasped. "That got out out of hand."

"It's fine," she assured him, pulling herself away if only so that she could breathe without sounding like she was having an asthma attack. "It was...well...better than fine. Maybe it was the magic?"

Heat rushed to her cheeks, somehow more heat than had been there previously. He pulled himself up from the floor and sat back on the table, but he didn't agree with her assessment.

A part of her was waiting, waiting for someone to jump out and laugh at her and accuse her of being a loose-little-Mudblood. She expected some sort of taunting, someone, if not Potter himself, to throw this in her face. The man has been single for a week and a half and of course he'd be looking for a rebound. You just up and offer yourself, why don't you? Despite her mental rebuke, she couldn't help but reel from what had just occurred. Her first kiss and it had been nothing short of amazing. All the more reason for someone to throw it in her face. He was probably regretting what had happened while she was making a valiant effort to regain her bearings. What he must think of her!

"I'd like for you to go with me to Paris this weekend."

She blanched, completely not expecting him to say that, of all things. "To Paris?" she echoed.

He nodded, and she noticed how taut he held himself, as if he was only barely in control. Maybe he was a shapeshifter on the verge of morphing, the giddy side of her suggested. She tried desperately to quiet her distracting thoughts.

"You're not serious?"

"And why not?"

"Would you like me to recite a list of reasons? There is no sane reason why I would or how I could, go with you this weekend." She was immensely pleased at how steady her voice had sounded to her own ears.

A muscle clenched by his jaw. "I would like to take you. I think it would be fun. It would be much better than you staying here." His voice was so strained, it sounded like was on the verge of snapping.

"Fun?" She'd known him seven years, and never once would she have guessed he was mental. Surely he knew what would await her if she put herself in such a precarious position?

"Yes, fun." He listed his head, eyeing her intently. "I could protect you...and I promise you won't regret joining me."

Fear raced through her veins. Dear Merlin. He was serious! He really wanted to take her to Paris with him? The option was actually on the table. But what would everyone say if they saw her there, and with him? Surely she would be asking for trouble. Was this like what Ron was proposing but somehow sanctioned? Was he asking her to be...his whore? The words so vanilla streaked across her brain. She had to be missing something here.

She blinked, flicking her gaze up to his inscrutable expression. Finally, she came up with a suitable question even Parvati would be proud of. "How many witches are you taking?"

It was a fair question, she was sure. The only explanation for why he could be asking her, of all people, to join him was that she would be part of a trio of witches, at least. Of course, she would have to decline, even if the man did snog like a fallen angel cursed to walk around men.

His lips curled in disgust. "No one. The invitation is for you alone."

Hermione would have cursed at that point, if she was prone to doing such things. Now what? She was once again, at a loss.

"I'll take that as a yes," he answered for her.

"What? No!"

"You'll need a dress to wear on Friday night," he told her as matter-of-factly as if he were delegating prefect duties. "All the other arrangements are covered."

"Harry!" her voice was shrill, pleading. "I can't go with you. This is some passing fancy you'll probably get over by then. Don't make me commit to this. You'd regret it!"

His face splintered into an angry snarl. "You expect me to leave you here with teachers who would likely take advantage of you before keeping you from being killed?" He got to his feet and towered over her. "It's about time you realize you're worth much more than you give yourself credit for. Haven't I been spending all of this time teaching you? Do you think I would do that for someone who wasn't worth the time? No. I don't want to see you cowering in front of your classmates. You're better than them. And if they try to gang up on you in any way, I'll be there to put a stop to it."

Oh dear. The conversation had definitely taken a turn. Now he was saying she needed to...act confident? And suppose he wasn't there to back her up if she actually did decide to turn her wand on the next person who accosted her? Oh, bugger. What choice did she have, really? Potter was right, the school wasn't safe, and going with him seemed to present with inherent challenges, but at least it was a different path than she'd always taken before. Perhaps the outcome would be different too.

"Are you sure you won't get in trouble for this?"

"What did we just discuss, Hermione?"

Right, the confidence thing. And he was calling her Hermione now. Damn. She wanted to tell him that maybe that day when he'd hit his head, he'd forgotten some of the important rules they lived by, and that she was sure he would regret bringing her and would likely make her pay for it later. "I have a dress to wear," she told him instead.

Some of the rage seemed to drain from his face. "Two days." He stopped to pluck his wand from beside her on the couch. "You will be packed and ready to go, won't you?"

Now he thought that she would stand him up? "Yes." It was all far too much to take in.

"Good." He offered her a hand to pull her up from the couch. "I'm feeling better about this already."

That makes one of us, Hermione thought blithely.

~oOo*oOo~