DISCLAIMER: If any of this belonged to me, I'd be a happy, happy woman.

A/N: Well, hello there. Long time no see. I'm in the middle of school now, but I haven't given up on this fic yet (as you can see). So thanks a bunch to all of you who've stuck by me from the beginning, and a great big hello to newcomers out there. waves. Hopefully, I've managed to pull off some feeling of romance in this chapter. Let me know how I'm doing. Enjoy.


It was Wednesday. Wednesdays meant Herbology. Dean hated Herbology.

"Alright, now once you get them out of their pods, give them a good shake, fill their mouths with water and then pin them to your branches."

Dean eyed the grey pod oozing a bluish sticky liquid onto the table.

"Wonder what the house elves made for lunch today," Ron muttered from across the table.

Dean glanced up at him. "As long as it doesn't look or smell as awful as this does, I'll be happy."

"Make sure the handkerchiefs are secured tightly over your face," Professor Sprout called out, eyeing the class.

Dean straightened the red cloth and held it tightly to his nose. His knuckles whitened as he clutched the knife in his hand.

"Ready? And, now!"

Dean raised the knife and drove it straight through the pod. A high pitched wail emitted from the slight opening, and he winced. His eyes darted around for a fleeting moment, noticing that some of his fellow Gryffindors had turned their heads away. Ron grimaced and Harry's eyes squeezed shut. The deafening noise drowned out a cursing Seamus, while a trembling Parvati brought one hand up to her ear. Grasping the knife, Dean twisted and pulled, slicing the pod open and the scream died instantly. Several students were doing the same until the greenhouse was no longer filled with a chorus of high pitched screams. Replacing the aggravating noise was now a smell so horrid, Dean wondered if he would ever manage to get it out of robes.

His eyes watered, and his vision blurred, but instead of pausing to dash the tears away, he grabbed the pea, which was the size of a basketball, and shook it violently until a gaping hole appeared where its mouth should be. Dean gagged. The smell was overwhelming. His arm shot out to his right, groping for the bowl that he knew was sitting on the table and he then poured the water into the gaping maw. Slamming it shut, his fingers fumbled as he tried to pin it to the branch behind him. He muttered a curse as the branch continued to sway at his meager attempts, until Harry and Seamus helped to hold the heavy branch still. Having done that, Dean breathed a sigh of relief and nodded his thanks to the two. Careful not to swipe his brow with his glove, Dean shook his head in a vain attempt to rid himself of the thick smell that stung his nostrils. He looked around the room at the remaining students struggling with their pods, and ambled over to Harry and Ron who were helping Hermione hoist her pea up into the branches.

Professor Sprout looked around at her class once the task was done. Many of them had their eyes shut. Some were swaying, threatening to collapse while others sagged against the table. She clapped her hands together and the students raised their eyes wearily.

"Wonderful," she said. "You can all step outside for five minutes to get a breath of air, and then I want you to get into partners for the bigger pods."

Dean's jaw clenched. His eyes watered and his nostrils stung. The sticky blue sap had gotten in his hair and his robes were filled with the awful stench of those damned pods.

He hated Herbology.

Muttered cleaning spells escaped grim and disgusted mouths as the students trooped out of the warm greenhouse, acrid with the sickening stench, and into the bitter cold. Dean didn't know which one he preferred more. On instinct, he raised his arm to his nose and inhaled deeply. Then with a shudder of revulsion he pulled off his dragon hide gloves and tossed them vehemently onto the snow filled ground. The students stood in a tight circle, in an attempt to spread body warmth. Their breaths came out in billowing smoke, many of them silent. Those who were talking kept their voices to murmur.

"This is ridiculous. I'm never going to get this stink off my robes. Even my bleeding jumper reeks of this stuff," Dean complained.

"When your hair is as thick as mine, then start complaining," Hermione said with clenched teeth.

"Just think, after this batch we won't have to deal with these horrid plants until next week," Hannah Abbot stuttered while rubbing her gloved hands together.

"At least the smell will be gone by then."

"Well, if any of you find yourselves hurt one day, I'm sure you'd find a new love for the filka pod."

"Yeah, Neville. When Seamus decides to stab me with a quill I'll be sure to shout for you to get me a filka pod."

Laughter echoed from the group, causing Neville's face to turn an interesting shade of pink. Hermione shifted her feet.

"You never know, Dean. In these times, anything could happen."

"Sure, Neville. I'll bet that there's a load of Death Eaters hiding in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Maybe there's some hanging from the trees, maybe hiding under your bed?"

Strained laughter escaped the lips from a few students, while others busied themselves by rubbing their hands together.

'It could happen, Dean," Harry said quietly.

"Don't be thick, Harry. This is Hogwarts. Nothing can happen here. No one can get in. Besides we got Dumbledore here, don't we?"

"He'll find another way around it. We can't be safe forever."

The group was silent now. Ron blew into his hands as he eyed Harry. Neville stared off into the forbidden forest. Hermione's eyes were still trained to her feet. Someone coughed.

"Dumbledore would find a way," Seamus said through chattering teeth.

"What if Dumbledore didn't know? Voldemort could be watching us right now, and what if Dumbledore didn't know?" Harry said quietly.

Hermione looked at him sharply. Neville looked around nervously and Parvati's grip on her wand tightened instinctively.

"Bollocks, if anything happens, Dumbledore's our man," Dean answered.

"Leave it, Harry. Come on, looks like Sprout's calling us back in again," Ron interrupted when he noticed Harry open his mouth to answer.

"Wonderful," he said instead.

The students trooped back in, somewhat dejectedly and took their seats. Dean partnered up with Neville.

"Where's your gloves?" Neville asked while carrying their pod to the table.

Dean blinked and looked at the table and searched through the pockets of his robes.

"Oh, hell, I must have left it outside. Be back in a bit."

"Hurry, will you? I can't cut this thing myself."

Dean nodded and headed for the door.

A blast of wind hit him square in the face and he grumbled as he made his way to the back of the greenhouse. He trained his eyes to the ground, searching.

"-can't just go on saying things like that," a muffled voice sounded and Dean's ears perked up at the sound.

Where are those damned gloves?

"It's the truth and he knows it."

"Regardless, Harry. Saying things like that will only get you into trouble."

Dean's head jerked up. Now this sounded interesting. Ignoring the voice in his head that sounded much like his mother's, Dean froze and strained to catch more of the conversation.

"Well what do you want me to do, Hermione? Stay silent and let them go on acting as if this is all a game?" Harry asked in a heated voice.

So he's talking to Hermione.

Things just got more interesting.

Dean inched closer to the wall, trying to banish his feelings of foolishness. He peered around the corner to see an agitated Harry towering over a nervous looking Hermione. Dean was surprised to see that she was even attempting to have a conversation with him. Hermione was standing a good distance away from Harry with her arms folded over her chest. If it was a gesture to keep herself warm or to appear defiant, Dean wasn't sure. What contrasted with her no-nonsense posture and tone of voice was the fact that she wouldn't look at Harry, for her eyes remained trained to the ground or focused off in the distance. Dean watched her shoulders sag as she sighed.

"All I'm asking, Harry, is for you to be a bit more tactful."

Harry never took his eyes off her, and Dean wondered how Hermione managed to stay under that gaze without flinching or shying away. There was a heart beat of silence in which he noticed the expression in Harry's eyes change; the anger faded away and they darkened. Dean chuckled softly at this. The man definitely knows what he's doing.

"Why won't you look at me?" Harry asked in a quiet voice.

Hermione fidgeted with her gloves and shivered.

"The wind is in my eyes," she answered.

Dean wanted to scoff at this unbelievable excuse, but he stayed silent. Sure enough, as if in answer to her statement, a gust of wind picked up. It pushed her back a step and forced Dean to pull his scarf tighter around his face. Harry didn't make a move to protect himself from the bitter cold. Instead he continued to pierce her with his gaze. Her eyes darted up to meet his. She must have seen something in them, for she suddenly made a show of adjusting her scarf and jacket saying, "We should get back inside."

Without waiting for an answer, Hermione brushed past Harry and went in through the back. Dean was in the process of thanking whatever god was out there for making her choose the other door and not the one that involved passing him. He was wondering if he should wait for Harry to pass, or if he should just step forward, pretend he had just come outside, pick up his gloves and head back in.

"How am I doing?"

Dean froze then shook his head. There was no use in hiding any longer. He took a step forward, into Harry's line of sight; his hands still in his pockets, and grinned sheepishly at him.

"Erm, fine."

Harry nodded as if taking his words to heart. His head turned to the left and he stooped to pick up a pair of gloves.

"These yours?"

"Er, yeah. Thanks, Harry."

As they entered the greenhouse through the back door, Dean grabbed a hold of Harry's arm.

"Hey, Harry?"

But what was he going to say? Sorry for listening to your conversation? I was stupid for poking fun at what could kill us all? To keep what pride he had left he said, "I… I know it's not a game."

In answer, Harry nodded, his lips twitching into a smile.

"Did you find them?" Neville asked once Dean took his place by his side.

He put on his gloves. "Yeah." He glanced up at Harry and saw Hermione stiffen as he approached her. The pod lay between them.

"Alright everyone," Professor Sprout said, gaining Dean's attention. "Now this procedure is much like the last. Though the pods are much bigger and the smell is much stronger."

Dean hated Herbology.


It is believed that The Order was one of the most intelligent, and accomplished secret society that has ever existed….

"This seat taken?"

Hermione looked up from her text book and froze. She never should have said good morning to him.

Yes.

"No," she managed to say and went back to her book.

"That for McGonagall's class?"

Don't answer him. You don't have to answer him. "Yes," she found herself uttering in a small voice. She hoped her answer was her own.

"I never got to thank you."

Hermione turned the page. "For what?" she asked.

"When I woke up I found my books by my bed, and I know books would be the last thing on Ron's mind. It helped me catch up, so thanks."

Hermione swallowed as she forced herself to look up and gaze at him steadily. Her hands trembled. "You're welcome."

He smiled at her and she immediately focused her gaze elsewhere. "We have another game next weekend," he said as he reached for the chicken. The book lay forgotten in her hands as she stared incredulously at him.

"You're playing?"

Harry finished his pumpkin juice in a few gulps before answering, "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

She only stared at him open mouthed then shook her head and turned back to her book.

"Of course you would. It was only a concussion after all," she muttered to herself.

Harry grinned at her comment.

"Why, Hermione, if I didn't know better I'd say that you're worried about me."

"Of course I am you git," she huffed. "Just be more careful this time, alright?"

His lips curved into a smile and his eyes softened.

"I'll be fine."

Hermione nodded and quickly brought her attention back to her book.

"Good."

Among many feats of magic, the members are most known for their work in the transfiguration of physical properties. Their research and experimentation has lead to one of the most important discoveries known throughout the wizarding world as Somnium Gradior…

The hubbub of noise echoed around them once more as they fell silent. Harry put a forkful into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"So does this mean we're on speaking terms again?" he asked.

Hermione blinked. There was no point in sticking her nose up at him now. He'd already seen right through her. Was it safe though? The silence in her head told her yes, but something in the back of her mind screamed at her to turn away from him. She looked up into green eyes that looked as if they were trying to bore a hole through her. If you're going to push him away now is the best chance to do so.

She prayed to god that she was making the right decision, though she knew that if she continued to ignore him any longer, she would fall apart. We've been friends for far too long. I'll find another way. I won't let you have him. She found herself smiling for the first time in a while.

"I guess it does," she said.

"You two speaking again? Excellent." Ron said, taking a seat in front of Hermione. "I'm starving."

"I can't believe you can still eat after that," Hermione said wrinkling her nose at the memory of those horrid pods.

"Don't remind me, but I'm gonna need this food if I want to stay up to finish McGonagall's essay."

"You haven't finished that yet?"

"She gave it to us two days ago."

"And you haven't started?" Hermione asked as if Ron had just committed the most horrible crime known to man.

Ron just stared at her.

"Again. She gave it to us just two days ago." When Hermione only sniffed and sipped her pumpkin juice, Ron shrugged and began to pile food onto his plate. "Oh yeah, I forgot. You're completely insane. Don't tell me you've finished the blasted thing already."

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but Ron held his hand up.

"No, never mind. Don't answer that question. I never should have asked."

Hermione sniffed as she went back to her reading.

"Well, if you would have applied yourself properly-"

"Applied myself? Hermione. We got this essay the day before. It's due in two days. Transfiguration isn't the only class I've got. Mind you, would be nice if it was…"

But Hermione wasn't listening to Ron any longer, for she was suddenly immersed in the reading before her:

the members of this secret society would perform this spell under the influence of helping one in need. For there was one rule applied to the act of Somnium Gradior, and this single rule stated that a member must only perform this act with good intentions. If used selfishly, total control would not be established, thus the partaker would often lose the connection with the applicant. However, the connection would not be completely broken. If the power is maintained and the source in full supply, then the partaker may continue to perform this act by staying true to the spell's name. Somnium Gradior. Dream Walking. Thus the art of transformation and control may still be used through the object and through the applicant's dreams…

Oh my goodness.

"Hermione? Are you okay? Hermione."

Hermione blinked and looked up from her book. She mustn't act. She mustn't think. For the love of god, she must not think. The thought took shape in her mind and just as suddenly as it had appeared, it dissolved into shadow. But what if he had seen? There was no way she could hide this from him. How could one hide one's thoughts from a person who can look inside her head? Unless, she was in fact free for the moment, but how would she manage to know when he was there? Was there any point in hiding it?

Stop thinking!

"Hermione?"

Her eyes focused on the two boys looking at her in confusion. She forced a sheepish grin on her face.

"Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind right now."

If he is in there, he would have said something by now. Unless he's just watching. Does it matter if I know or not?

"So are you coming?"

"What?" Hermione snapped back into reality.

"The common room. We have two hours before Transfiguration," Harry repeated.

Hermione shut her book and stuffed it into her bag. "Actually, I wanted to go to the library for a minute. I'll meet you two up there alright?"

"Yeah, okay."

Hermione stood.

"You're going now?"

"Yes," she said absentmindedly fingering her ring as she headed for the door.


"Still reading, huh?"

Hermione jumped at the voice, but visibly relaxed at the sight of Harry seating himself before her. He apologized and she shook her head in response.

"Sorry, I guess I lost track of time."

"What have you got there?" Harry looked at the stack of books on her left and examined the covers. "I thought you finished the essay."

"I did. I just wanted to read ahead, that's all."

"You've really got to relax, Hermione. Don't do work you don't have to. Remember third year?"

Hermione pursed her lips at the memory of her experience with the time turner.

"Yes, well, I know what I'm doing this time, Harry. Shouldn't you be with Ron in the common room?"

"He's beating Neville at wizard's chess right now."

"You couldn't take much more of the humiliation could you?" she teased.

"Just once. I'd like to win, just once."

They became silent once more as Hermione went back to her reading. Harry drummed his fingers on the table as he watched her.

"Anything I can help with?"

"Oh no, I'm fine," she answered not looking up.

The drumming got more erratic until, "Let's go for a walk."

This time he did get her attention. She looked at him, then out the window at the flurry of snow that blanketed the landscape. "In that?"

"Sure why not?"

"You're mad."

"We don't have to walk outside. The halls will do just fine. Come on, you need a break."

When she didn't answer, he stretched his arm out and shut her book, much to her protests. He then stood up and took her hand.

"Harry! What are you doing? I was reading that!"

"You're finished."

He then began to drag her out of the library.

"At least let me take the books out-"

"You can take them out tomorrow."

"Harry!"

Harry ignored her protests and Madam Pince's shushing noises and proceeded to drag her out.

Once they were in the corridor, Hermione wrenched her hand out of his grip and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What, in the world was that for?" she asked heatedly, but Harry just grinned.

"You need to stop working. Come on."

He took a hold of her hand and marched her away from the library, as if she was going to make a break for it, run back through the doors and devour the books with her eyes.

"I am perfectly capable of walking on my own," she protested.

"I know," Harry answered, his fingers laced through hers.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but a hint of a smile graced her features. "Where are we going?"

"Where do you think we're going?"

"Harry, I need to read."

"You always read."

"That's why it's called a hobby."

"You can read later."

"You don't understand. This might be my only chance to-" she stopped herself from going any further and Harry raised an eyebrow at her.

"You're only chance read ahead? Hermione. You need a break."

She wanted to pull her hand from his grip, turn on her heels with a huff and walk right back into the library. Instead she allowed him to pull her along by the hand, secretly enjoying this little affair.

At the portrait, Harry muttered the password ("filka pod") and marched into the room. Neville looked up from the board.

"You found her."

"Wasn't hard," Harry said glancing at the board then wincing as Ron's bishop took another one of Neville's pieces.

He directed Hermione to the chair and told her to sit. Hermione complied and Harry took a seat beside her.

"Is there anything else you would like me to do, Harry?" Hermione asked with mock sweetness.

Harry turned to look at her with heated eyes. "I could think of other things," he said in a low voice.

Hermione immediately felt her cheeks grow warm and she moved slightly away from him. Her eyes, focused on the board, failed to miss the smile that clung to Harry's lips.

"W-who's winning?" she asked in an attempt to forget the wizard at her side. She could feel his eyes on her.

"Ron," Neville said dismally and Hermione immediately felt horrible for unwittingly rubbing it in.

"Just keep your eyes open, Neville. You can use your queen to- oh. Never mind."

Hermione smiled sympathetically at him as they watched his queen get massacred by Ron's knight.

"Quit helping him, Hermione," Ron said, not taking his eyes off the board.

"Want to play Exploding Snap?" Harry asked.

Hermione turned to him, not meeting his eyes. "No, I'm not in the mood. I think I'll just sit here and watch-"

"Neville get horribly beaten? Come on, just one game. You haven't played in ages."

"Harry,"

"Your robes will flame free. I promise," Harry joked and Hermione sighed, exasperated, at the reference to the last time she had played Exploding Snap. Yes, her robes had somehow caught fire, and no, it was not funny, though whenever the subject was brought up Ron often thought otherwise resulting in her crossing her arms in irritation and agreeing to 'only one game'.

"If you're trying to bait me, it's not working."

"Fine. We could just sit here."

"That's alright with me."

And they did just that. Hermione stared at Ron and Neville. Harry stared at her. She knew he was, and she knew he was smiling. Hermione shifted in her seat, but didn't look in his direction. Her fingers itched to have something to do, so they began fiddling with a loose thread on her robes. This went on for some moments until she felt a soft weight settle on her hand. She looked down to see Harry's hand resting on hers. She froze.

"Relax," he whispered.

Hermione felt far from it. Why oh why were they sitting on the same damned couch as the night when they- Ron yawned loudly, and Hermione flinched from Harry's grasp. She looked up at him. What was he trying to do? He gazed steadily at her, but she couldn't read anything from it. It was as if he was trying to draw her into him, and suddenly she was back at that night after her parents died. She was back at that moment when everything had changed between them.

And he knew.

He knew that she too was reliving those moments, wondering, if she could dare muster the courage to ask him.

Give me my sin again, his eyes spoke to her.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered, what if? Then with a violent mental shake of the head, she tore her gaze away and stood.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked.

Flustered, Hermione's eyes darted around the room. Where was she going? All she knew was that she had needed to put as much distance between her and Harry, and so she had stood. Now, no longer on the same plane as he, she didn't know where she could go to fully escape the memory.

"I… I need to stretch my legs," she said, still not having the faintest idea as to where she was going to go.

"Right," Ron whispered, distractedly.

She turned and headed for the girl's dormitories, which was the only place at the moment which she didn't have to travel far to get to, and where Harry could not follow her. Thank the Hogwarts Founders' sense of propriety. So it wasn't until Hermione had walked up the stairs and shut the door behind her, that she could take a proper, yet shaky breath. With her back against the door, she leaned her head back and shut her eyes. He couldn't get to her in here.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes flew open to see a confused looking Lavendar staring at her peculiarly.

"Are you alright, dear?"

Hermione managed to place an awkward smile on her face before striding to the washroom and shutting the door behind her. Now, she was perfectly alone. Her chest rose and fell and she shut her eyes in an attempt to steadily her racing heart.

"This is ridiculous," she whispered to herself as she turned her head to look into the mirror.

"You looked flushed, dear," the mirror chided helpfully.

"Thanks."

She went up to the faucet and splashed water on her face. You definitely need to take your mind out of the gutter. The cold water washed over her, and managed to dash any trace of heated thoughts. She sighed as she dried herself. "It was one night, and you both agreed that nothing would come of it. Nothing." She looked back at her reflection and flashed a satisfied smile.

"It was nothing. Nothing at all."

"If you say so," the mirror answered her and she nodded in approval at the inanimate object's comment.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. Lavendar looked up from her notebook.

"Are you sure everything's alright? You look awfully flushed."

"Everything is fine," Hermione said with a smile. "What are you writing?"


There was a loud crack and the three boys jumped, laughing. One clutched his eyebrows in dismay.

"That was fantastic, Neville! One more game," a voice sounded.

Neville set up the cards. At that moment Harry looked up to see Hermione and Lavender making their way down the stairs.

"Oooh, who got singed?" Lavender asked.

Harry took his hand off his forehead with a sheepish smile.

"Nice look for him, don't you think?" Ron grinned.

Harry grimaced and threw a bean at him, which Ron gladly caught and popped in his mouth.

"Want to play?" Harry asked them, his eyes falling on Hermione.

Before Lavender could open her mouth in reply, Hermione said, "No thanks, we'll just watch."

"You're not still sore about that last game, are you?" he inquired with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Neville looked up from the cards, and Hermione could see him trying to douse the swiftly growing hilarity on his features. She scowled at Harry.

Lavender looked from Harry to Hermione and asked, "What happened last time?"

"Nothing," Hermione said, taking a seat on the floor in front of him. "Let's play one round before class starts."

She ignored the sly grin on his face, and by the time they walked into Professor McGonagall's class and took their seats, Hermione was smiling smugly; proud that she had managed to avoid his gaze. One look at his eyebrows and his frowning features made her smile grow wider.

"What?" he asked her, noticing her stare.

"I was only wondering," she whispered as McGonagall instructed them to open their books. "If you would like to play again after class."

Harry glared at her as she stifled yet another grin, but before he could answer, McGonagall gave the two of them a hard stare and he shut his mouth and took up his quill. He glanced at Hermione, whose hand had immediately shot in the air, and he smiled inwardly.

This is going to be easier than I thought.