A/N: This is the second installment of what I've dubbed the "Bingo Trilogy". If you aren't sure what that means please check out the author's note for my story A One Night Stand In Three Acts.

The first section of this tale was written months ago as a drabble and published on the Harmony discord, but it was always in the back of my mind that it could be expanded. Then I randomly scored the 'Enemies to Lovers' trope on my bingo card and the rest, as they say, is history.

This story takes place in fourth year in a universe where Hermione was sorted into Ravenclaw and Harry is much more academically motivated; so much so that he and Hermione are academic rivals/enemies. Will they find true love? What self-imposed obstacles will they have to overcome? What does the story title mean? You'll have to read on to find out.

Thank you Nauze, as always, for the beta. I'm going to make you a Harmony fan even if it kills me! (B/N: Too late: They've got me. I think it might be my OTP now)

November 1, 1994

Harry grumbled to himself as he reached for the next pile of dusty editions of the Daily Prophet. Sunday mornings were the one time during the week that he usually allowed himself a respite from studying and doing homework. Have a bit of a lie in…catch a late breakfast…maybe a bit of flying afterward if the weather was right: a glorious few hours before he went back to his normal routine.

But that was all shot to hell this Sunday morning thanks to a sodding goblet. Of course he'd tried to work out how to fool the Goblet into submitting an underage student's name, but he'd never intended to actually use any method he'd figured out. Given how many people and things seemed to be actively trying to do him in over the years, it didn't seem very logical to go seeking out more opportunities simply for 'fame and glory'. He'd told his housemates the prior evening that he hadn't submitted his name but that didn't stop the early risers from cheering him on as he made his escape through the portrait hole that morning.

He needed to come up with all the questions and then start delving in to find the answers: How did my name get it in the Goblet? Why was my name put in the Goblet? What is the history of the tournament and did the tasks follow a general pattern? Were there any loopholes he could exploit? The list went on and on and needed to be addressed immediately…so much so that he'd skipped his beloved Sunday morning lie-in and late breakfast just to get started.

Harry had done a masterful job of ignoring the angry grumbling of his stomach, but try as he might, he could not ignore the arrival of the angry grumbling that typically existed in his orbit: Hermione Granger. Without a word, she took a seat and slid a napkin filled with toast across the table.

"We aren't supposed to have food in the library. There are charms in place to prevent it from happening," he admonished.

She laughed in that intellectually superior way that only a Ravenclaw could manage. "I figured out a workaround for that before the end of first year. Are you telling me that you haven't managed it yet?"

"Too busy protecting the school from Voldemort, I suppose," he replied, grinning at her annoyed reaction.

Although there was a constant debate amongst the masses about who was the better fourth year student, Harry's adventures were the ultimate tiebreaker, and he knew it drove the girl around the bend. Normally his rejoinder would have merely been the beginning of their verbal sparring, but the Goblet fiasco and the fact that she'd been so considerate quieted him from insulting her further.

"Thank you," he replied, greedily attacking his feeble breakfast. "I didn't enter by the way," he managed between bites.

She rolled her yes. "Well, of course I knew you hadn't entered yourself. If you had managed it, you would have been gloating. You just looked angry."

"I do not gloat," he grumbled truthfully…kind of. He never gloated about his accomplishments, unless it involved Hermione. He'd never been able to decide if she brought out the best or worst in him. Maybe both? He realized that her assessment was spot on.

"Fine," he admitted, "if I had actually managed it, I would have been staring at you and grinning from ear to ear. Happy?"

"Not at all," she muttered. "Because of this stupid contest you now have a built in excuse when I get better marks than you this year. The fact that someone seems to have it in for you again is troubling as well."

"Nice to see you still have your priorities," he replied with a grin. It was nice having someone in the castle still treating him normally. He imagined that would be a rare occurrence over the coming months.

She pulled out several pieces of parchment and thrust them across the table. "I've prepared a list of things to consider about the tournament. It's too early to say definitively what areas of magic you should focus on, but I would suggest we ask the professors for the fifth, sixth and seventh year textbooks to-"

"We?" he interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, as I said, you've ruined my plans for the year by getting mixed up with this nonsense, and I refuse to have you lording your first place finish over me.

If I help I can hopefully deflate your head a bit. But if I'm being honest, I mostly want to make sure you don't die. I need you to survive until graduation so I can continue to get better marks and make fun of you for it. The other nincompoops just don't measure up."

At her words he felt the knot that had set up a personal residence in his stomach recede slightly. "Great minds think alike," he managed as he handed the lists he'd been compiling over for her inspection. "Thanks, Hermione."

His use of her first name took the girl off guard and she allowed herself a shy smile before she began perusing his notes. She really did have a pretty smile...and a pretty frown…and when she chewed on the end of her quill-

He suddenly remembered a small tidbit of information that he'd gleaned that morning regarding the tournament. Apparently, it was a tradition to hold a Yule Ball as part of the event and, based on the dress robe requirement for the year, that tradition was going to be upheld. It was a cursory fact that he'd quickly noted and moved on from at the time. But as he watched this brilliant, infuriating girl working, 'YULE BALL' began flashing repeatedly in his brain.

"I'm fairly certain there's to be a ball on Christmas as part of the tournament... Would you go with me?"

Her eyes flashed in surprise before that soft, shy smile returned. "Yes," Hermione answered simply before she sat back and folded her arms in consideration. "Do you know how to dance?"

"Not a clue," he blurted, surprised and relieved at her answer.

"Add it to the list," she ordered.

December 25, 1994

Harry fought the urge to scowl, doing his best to keep his expression as indifferent as possible. It had been clear that Hermione was trying to make some sort of point when she'd accepted Viktor's request for a dance, and it pissed him off. But he'd had over three years of practice not letting Hermione Granger know she'd gotten under his skin, and tonight, for reasons he couldn't quite identify, the stakes seemed to have been ratcheted up exponentially.

After spending so much time over the last month and a half with the girl preparing for the tournament, there was a part of his consciousness, a very loud part, telling him to ignore his worst impulses, but he ignored it. This was how he and Hermione operated: She would try to get under his skin; he would pretend it hadn't worked then volley back with his own attempt, and the cycle would repeat. That's how the game was played.

Sometimes he was the instigator, sometimes it would end after a few seconds, and sometimes it would last for weeks on end with breaks in between only for attending classes, eating meals, and sleeping. But regardless of the individual nuances of the game, the general pattern would be repeated again and again. He had thought they were going to take a night off from their game, but if she wanted to play, he certainly wasn't going to be the one to blink first.

Spending so much more time with Hermione had brought new feelings and emotions to the forefront, and initially this new variable had made the game easier. Their interactions were somewhat similar to their first three years of face-offs, but they both were a bit kinder, the insults were muted, and the entire process involved a lot more smiling. The sparring matches had become much shorter while the gaps in between seemed to be growing exponentially by the day.

Viktor had asked Hermione to be his date almost immediately after the Ball had been announced, and she had gracefully declined. But from that point on, if he was being a bit of a prick, or stepped on her toes when she was teaching him to dance, the joke was made that she could always change her mind and go with the more mature, strong, sporty option. Every time she made the remark, it stung…each and every time. He didn't let on, of course; he'd had years of practice at not rising to the bait, but it had bothered him more than any insult she'd ever managed in the past.

It felt as if she was testing him every time she made the joke, but he couldn't bring himself to modify his standard response; a smirk…perhaps ticking off a few of the myriad girls who would jump at the chance at attending the ball with The Boy Who Lived. Any other response would mean she had gotten the better of him and that was unacceptable. Hermione had become very good over the years at schooling her expression at his jibes, but based on her reaction he couldn't shake the feeling that every time he'd chosen to play the game, he'd failed the test.

But that was fine, a minor wrinkle in their new dynamic that could be put off for another day; they'd been playing a version of this game for years and he had a sodding tournament to deal with at the moment.

The ball had been going swimmingly until the Bulgarian prick asked her to dance. Hermione looked at Harry questioningly, and despite it feeling like this was his final exam, he once again fell back on his learned instincts. He nodded at her dispassionately and immediately realized it was all shot to hell. She was supposed to look smug…or annoyed…not disappointed. That's how the game worked. But in spite of the fact that Hermione was the one not playing by the rules, he once again felt like he was the one receiving a failing grade.

He'd failed the test twenty minutes and four songs ago, Hermione and Viktor were still on the dance floor, and their match had settled into its typical rhythm. One song would end, Hermione would look his way, he would pretend not to notice, and she would continue dancing with the mature, strong, sporty option, while he pretended not to notice or care.

Harry's intense concentration on pretending not to care was interrupted by another Champion.

"Hey, Harry!" Cedric greeted as he plopped down beside him.

"Yeah?" Harry replied a bit more abruptly than intended, his annoyance with Granger bleeding over to the Hufflepuff. It was clear that Cedric hadn't noticed as the boy was still all-smiles. He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and leaned in.

"Look, I never properly thanked you for letting me know about the dragons-"

"Forget about it," Harry answered honestly, "I'm sure you would have done the same."

Cedric grinned. "I'd like to think so…that's why I wanted to talk to you. Have you sorted out the clue for the Second Task?"

He'd always thought that Cedric was a decent bloke, so the fact that he was asking for even more help, despite still having two months to work the clue out himself, was shocking.

"Look, Cedric, I told you about the dragons because the rest of us had an unfair advantage. But I don't feel right just helping you with the-"

Cedric's laugh interrupted his polite refusal. "I'm not asking for help. I was offering help if you were stuck."

That made much more sense. "No," he replied, "thanks, but no."

Cedric leaned in a bit further and spoke in a lower volume. "It's really all right. One of the professors pointed me in the right direction and I thought it only fair to offer-"

"It's really okay," Harry interrupted. He bit back on the urge to inform the Hufflepuff that it had only taken him and Hermione a few days to sort out the clue but realized that would make him sound like an arrogant prick. Those types of comments were reserved for Granger.

"If I'm still stuck in a month, I'll probably take you up on your offer."

Apparently, that was a sufficiently humble, non-arrogant reply, because Cedric's grin returned as he patted him on the shoulder. "Sounds good," he enthused as he stood to leave and glanced in the direction where his date was patiently waiting.

"Try to have some fun, Harry," Cedric advised, "the hard part of the night is over!"

The Hufflepuff's advice was earnest and sincere, which only served to piss him off more. The bit that was supposed to be hard, the opening dance, had been exceedingly easy and fun thanks to Hermione's instruction over the last month. As he pondered this thought, he realized that the part of the night that was supposed to be easy was turning out to be exceptionally difficult, also thanks to Hermione, and that pissed him off even more.

He decided that Cedric had the right of it; it was time to have a little fun. And since his arrival at Hogwarts, nothing brought him more enjoyment than annoying Granger. Suddenly his recently dormant instincts sprung to life, excited to flex their muscles despite having atrophied a bit over the last month and a half.

"Would it be all right if I asked Cho for a dance? Harry asked. "My date seems to have done a runner and you're right, I've been sat around for too long."

Cedric smiled and Harry felt a bit insulted that his request hadn't seemed to bother the boy…at all. "As long as Cho agrees, it's fine with me. You'd actually be doing me a favor. I wanted to make the same offer to Fleur and Viktor and I feel bad making Cho stand around and wait."

He was such a Hufflepuff.

Harry grinned and began his trek toward Cho as methodically as possible. He wanted to ensure Granger noticed that he was on the move and, most crucially, realize who he was moving toward. For reasons that weren't quite clear, Hermione seemed to despise Cho. Harry had tried to suss out the source of Hermione's distaste for her housemate, but the girl had never offered any clues and he couldn't find anything to dislike about the girl. She was pretty, engaging, good at Quidditch; all things considered, Harry thought that Cho was one of the nicest and most attractive girls in the castle. So nice, in fact, that she would have been his first choice for the ball after Granger.

Cho graciously accepted his offer and the dance turned out to be quite pleasant and enjoyable. They talked about the food that evening, bemoaned the lack of Quidditch that year, and Cho even complimented him on his dance skills; it was all very pleasant and enjoyable on its own merit. But as pleasant and enjoyable as the actual dance was, it paled in comparison to how much pleasure and enjoyment Harry derived thinking about Granger's reaction. He'd avoided looking at Granger from the moment he put his plan in place, but he was positive she would have seen them by now; he'd maneuvered Cho to the center of the dance floor for that specific reason. Cho's honest smile and laugh as he twirled her, a dance move that Granger had taken particular pleasure in teaching him, was the icing on the revenge cake.

The dance ended and he and Cho said their goodbyes for the evening. Cho set off to find Cedric and Harry began scanning the room for another girl he could dance with to annoy Granger. As far as he knew, besides Cho, Parkinson, and a few other awful Slytherins, there wasn't anyone else that she particularly disliked, so the best strategy was to come up with a rotation. A new girl for each dance…a new girl to impress and twirl with his above-average dance prowess.

Sue and Hannah from Hufflepuff were exceedingly nice and would most likely say yes. Ginny Weasley's adoration had tamped down to manageable levels this year and he was fairly confident she would jump at the chance for a spin on the dance floor, especially given the awkward attempts she'd managed with Neville. He was positive his Quidditch teammates would all have a go, and perhaps he could end the night by asking Daphne Greengrass. She was always cordial, if a bit quiet, and if she actually agreed he would end up killing two birds with one stone by pissing off Granger and Malfoy.

He spotted the pretty Beauxbatons student that had nervously asked to be his date several weeks ago sitting alone and realized she would be an excellent choice to get the ball rolling. Harry began his trek and saw in his periphery that Cedric was sitting at a nearby table, making his offer of help to Viktor and Fleur. Since Harry had started his counterattack he'd steadfastly avoided looking to see Granger's reaction, opting to wait for the perfect moment. Recognizing that Hermione was now most likely standing all alone while he was about to lock up yet another partner, he decided that the perfect moment had arrived.

Harry scanned the hall and his confusion began to grow as he did not spot her anywhere; not near Viktor, not on the dance floor, or at the refreshment table, or any of the other tables scattered about. He was about to give up looking when he finally spotted the back of her periwinkle dress, making her exit from the hall.

As varied and different as their matches had been over the years, there had always been a specific set of immutable, unimpeachable rules established, and just giving up was unacceptable. That was Rule #1.

All thoughts of dancing and other girls disappeared as he followed her in a near sprint. It took far longer than expected to catch up as she seemed to be trying to escape back to the Ravenclaw dormitory as quickly as possible.

This was all wrong. She wasn't supposed to give up and she certainly wasn't supposed to run away. She was supposed to follow the rules.

"Leaving already?" Harry called out unthinkingly once he was close enough for her to hear.

As expected his words caused her to stop her retreat. He knew Hermione Granger and he knew she always had to have the last word. The game was still afoot.

She turned to face him and he realized how badly he had miscalculated. In the past they had levied insults, called each other names, even traded a few mild hexes on occasion, but there had never been any true anger or malice involved. Even in their most heated exchanges, it had never truly meant anything. Sometimes he won and sometimes he lost but it was always fun. The dirty little secret of their rivalry was they brought out the best in each other.

But suddenly, the pendulum had swung rapidly and viciously out of control. Seeing Hermione wiping away tears, tears that he had caused, made him feel empty and hollow. Bringing out the worst in each other wasn't how the game was meant to be played.

Realizing she'd let him see her at a particularly vulnerable moment seemed to spark something in Hermione as her face instantly hardened. "Good luck with the Second Task," she said before stomping out of sight.

February 25, 1995

As Harry pulled the enormous tome out of his bag, he cursed his whirring brain for not being peacefully tucked away in his bed right now. Thanks to gillyweed, the propulsion charm Hermione had suggested before abandoning him, and his outstanding moral fiber, he'd established a commanding lead in the Triwizard Tournament the day prior, and now had a full four months to prepare for the final task.

If there was ever a time that he'd earned a lie-in, it was this morning. But he'd barely been able to sleep at all and had given it up as a lost cause shortly after sunrise. He didn't even get to enjoy a leisurely breakfast in the Great Hall because there was a chance that Granger would be there, and after yesterday's unexpected revelation, he was in no way prepared to deal with her.

The best way forward was to bury himself in routine and begin his research on the magical creatures and obstacles that he would most likely be confronted with in June. They hadn't been told what the final Task would entail but if history was any guide, it would more than likely consist of some sort of obstacle course, and said obstacle course would include loads of annoying beasts and traps. He was busy jotting down notes on the vulnerable areas of Acromantula when a small pile of toast was placed in front of him.

Great. Just fucking great. The girl had done her damnedest to pretend he didn't exist for the last two months, but as soon as he'd handed her ammunition on a bloody silver platter, she was ready to start playing again.

"So I'm the thing you'd sorely miss?" she asked.

And there it was…the reason he'd hidden himself away after his triumphant showing and hadn't been able to shut his brain off sufficiently to have his properly earned lie-in. He knew her comment should be setting him off…that he should be furious at having lost the upper hand in such a spectacularly embarrassing way. But he was too excited at her once again acknowledging his existence to be truly upset.

"We aren't supposed to have food in the library," he replied as casually as possible, keeping his head firmly affixed on his notes.

He'd expected her to laugh, or perhaps dig the knife in a little deeper. He'd missed her presence so much that he would gladly suffer whatever barbs she was ready to send his way.

"That's not an answer."

Something inside him lurched as he realized Hermione had no interest in rubbing salt in the wound. She was, in spite of everything he'd done wrong, offering him a chance to retake the exam he'd failed so miserably at the Yule Ball.

Harry thought about the last two months…how he'd obsessively thrown himself into his studies and research to avoid thinking about Hermione's absence, and how he'd achieved near perfection for his efforts. He'd prepared for all contingencies and executed his plan so flawlessly, not only had he returned with his own hostage, but he'd retrieved Fleur's sister and beat Cedric and Krum to the surface for good measure. His performance was so flawless and noble that even Karkaroff hadn't dared give him anything less than full marks. But as validating as his achievement had been, it paled in comparison to the second chance Hermione was now offering him, and that thought terrified him.

"I asked you a question," she said, her voice wavering despite her best efforts to conceal it. "Am I really the thing you'd sorely miss?"

He had loads of friends at Hogwarts; Ron Weasley was the first name that came to mind, but his years with the Dursleys had ensured that whatever friendships he'd formed had always been kept at arm's length. Chess matches and Quidditch discussions were simple and easy. Competing with Granger in class and insulting her when he'd done better was simple and easy.

Passing Hermione's test wouldn't be simple or easy, and he wasn't sure he could handle failing again. The new instincts he'd ignored at the Yule Ball made their presence felt once again and practically shouted the solution.

The only way to win is not to play the game.

He closed his eyes and took a breath.

"You have no idea," he blurted before he lost his nerve. He grabbed a piece of toast and continued staring at his notes in an effort to avoid thinking about how vulnerable he'd allowed himself to be.

After several excruciating seconds of silence he heard a chair scraping on the floor as Hermione took a seat beside him, and felt the familiar rumble as she plopped her school bag loaded with books onto the table.

"How did you locate us?" Hermione asked as she grabbed his notes and began her examination.

It made sense that she'd be curious, as they had planned to begin working on that very problem the day after the Yule Ball. Harry felt the knot in his stomach recede as he realized he might have passed the test.

"I asked Myrtle for help about a month ago. She scouted out where they'd taken the hostages that morning and was waiting to show me when I jumped in the lake."

"Relying on your charm instead of your brains was a wise move," Hermione said. Despite himself, he grinned.

"So you think I'm charming, Granger?" he replied. He could practically feel Hermione rolling her eyes. It was glorious.

"And why exactly did you grab a spare hostage? Please tell me you weren't just showing off."

"I didn't want any hostages to be left behind so I waited for the other Champions to show up. I'd sorted out how much time I'd need to get back to the surface within the time limit. When Fleur didn't turn up by my drop-dead time, I grabbed Gabrielle as well."

"So you're on a first-name basis with Fleur and her sister now?"

He chuckled. "That tends to happen when you do something brave, selfless, and heroic. You should try it sometime."

Harry soaked up every bit of Hermione's annoyed growl. He'd missed it so much.

"You do realize we were never in any real danger," she stated more than asked.

"Real heroes don't take any chances," he lied. He'd felt like an idiot afterward for taking the riddle seriously, but he went with the falsely arrogant response he knew she was expecting.

"Anyway," she continued, "seeing as you made it back first, I'm assuming you used my suggestion on how to get back to the surface."

He nodded. "I set a homing charm on the starting point before I jumped in as well, so I had a straight shot on the way back."

"That was clever, I suppose," Hermione replied as she handed back his notes.

Silence reigned for a few minutes as Hermione began pulling out her supplies. As ecstatic as he was at their restored dynamic, he realized that Hermione deserved a bit more honesty. It would be going against all of his instincts to make such a confession, but she deserved to hear it.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled as he turned to the section on Acromantula and resumed taking notes.

"Me too," she replied before pulling out a massive book from her bag. It was the same one he was using.

"I can start at the 'Z's' and work my way backward. Then we can switch up and review each other's work once we meet in the middle and make sure nothing was missed. Once that's finished we can start looking into other supplementary materials, then we can research magical traps. Sound good?"

The only way to win is not to play the game.

"Sounds good, and thank you."

"You can thank me by surviving, Potter. You owe me three more years of arse-kickings before you are allowed to even think about dying."

June 25, 1995

Thanks to the dreamless sleep potion he'd consumed, it took a bit longer than usual for the fog to clear as Harry regained consciousness. But as the horrible events of the prior day came back in full force, he wished it would have taken much longer.

He wasn't in the Gryffindor dormitory; he was in the hospital wing. He'd won the Triwizard Tournament in dominating fashion but that was meaningless and wholly unimportant because Voldemort was back. He'd been careless, and foolish, and let down his guard, and it was his fault that Voldemort was back.

Harry spotted his winnings sitting on a nearby table and fought the urge to fling them across the room. He was so angry for falling for the same trap again. Over and over again he'd thought he could outrun his horrible circumstances, if only he tried a bit harder…focused a bit more…but every time his successes were brief and pyrrhic. It felt as if any success he'd achieved over the years had been a trick; a way to build him up just a bit so the fall would be greater and infinitely more damaging.

One Step Forward and Two Steps Back would be a fitting epitaph, he mused. He'd studied dreamless sleep potions in first year and knew the effects had worn off hours ago, but despite that, he still felt so tired. So very tired.

At some point he realized there was an odd pressure on his left leg, which didn't make any sense because that was one of the few parts of his body that he couldn't recall being hit with a curse or shrapnel during the awful events of yesterday.

Harry moved to touch the source of the pressure but his progress was stopped by an unfamiliar lump blocking his path. The fabric he encountered was familiar, but he had absolutely no clue how it had ended up here, and who was concealed underneath. He grasped his invisibility cloak and grinned as a mass of brown, bushy curls came into view.

"Hermione," he murmured, giving her a gentle nudge.

He felt her head rise from its perch as she slowly regained consciousness and realized where she was. Before he could speak she lurched forward and buried her head into his chest.

He wanted to tell her to run; that worrying over him was a losing cause and no matter how hard he tried…no matter how much he forced himself to be better…that he was Sisyphus incarnate. That would be the right thing to do…to save her from having to suffer alongside him. He was all set to begin his speech when she spoke.

"You owe me three more years, Potter," Hermione said as she buried herself into his chest a bit further, and all thoughts of telling her to run vanished into the ether.

He reflexively began running his hand through her hair. He'd wanted to do it for months, but had been too scared to give in to the urge. Those fears seemed so silly now.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, feeling utterly clueless about what to say and ecstatic that she was there.

"I don't want you to say you're sorry," she replied. "I want my three years."

"I wish I could make that promise," he answered honestly, doing his best to ignore the uncomfortable prickling in the corner of his eyes. "He's back, Hermione. Voldemort's back…and it's my fault."

"Shut up, Potter-"

"Her-"

"I said shut up! They let someone magically bind you to this stupid tournament. The idiots in charge let that happen, then they let the Cup be charmed into a Portkey. You did everything you were supposed to do. You ran rings around the competition and you survived despite all of their screw-ups. There are so many things wrong with you but none of them have anything to do with this. If you'd like, I'd be happy to recite all the things wrong with you. Would you like me to do that?"

Harry chuckled and grimaced as the after-effects of the Cruciatus made their presence known. He felt Hermione begin to move away but held firm, willing her to stay close. He felt her relax back into his chest and let out a contented sigh. Regardless of the aches and pains that the pressure of her body against his was causing, it felt infinitely better than the alternative. It was embarrassing on some level that they'd (literally) danced around each other for nine months and hadn't really expressed their true feelings.

"How'd you get my cloak anyway?" he asked, in lieu of expressing his feelings.

"I set up outside of Gryffindor last night and waited for Weasley to get back from seeing you. They wouldn't let me into the hospital wing and I wanted to know how you were doing. I threatened him with ten different hexes if he didn't get your cloak for me."

Harry chuckled again, making sure to maintain a firm grip in case Hermione thought to pull away again.

"You need to get better friends, by the way," Hermione continued. "Weasley just laughed at me and fetched it right away. I thought I'd have to hit him with a few hexes before he did what I asked. I was a bit disappointed if I'm being honest."

"Ron trusts you and knows how much you've helped me in the tournament. Besides, he's not dumb, like most of our year he's terrified of you."

"You aren't terrified of me. Does that mean you're dumb?" Hermione asked

"It means I'm so brilliant and outrageously powerful that I have no need to be scared of you, obviously," Harry replied.

He could feel himself smiling…and he knew that Hermione was as well. Despite everything that had happened, despite the uncertain future that lay ahead, he'd managed a smile thanks to this annoying, infuriating, utterly amazing, girl. He tugged on her shoulders and she quickly cottoned on, shifting her position and relaxing her head into the small of his shoulder. Once she was settled, he carefully draped the invisibility cloak over her in case Pomfrey walked by.

"Afraid to be seen with me, Harry?" she joked.

The only way to win is not to play the game

"I'm afraid that you'll leave," he replied honestly.

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied, her voice quavering, "you owe me three more years."

June 30, 1995

Harry girded himself as he stood in front of Platform 9 ¾, bracing for the icy reception he was sure would greet him on the other side.

"Potter!" he heard ring out behind him, and his girding instantly ceased. It was Hermione. She still called him by his last name in public for reasons he couldn't comprehend, but he didn't mind. He turned to see her walking toward him with a purposeful stride, carrying a rather large book. She looked very serious.

"This is for you to study and work on over the summer," she informed, thrusting the book into his hands.

"The Wonders of Wandless Wizardry," he read aloud.

"It can read!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's exactly right. I had my parents pick up a copy for each of us, and I fully expect to wipe the floor with you when we are back at Hogwarts."

"The Ministry doesn't track wandless magic," he observed out loud, grinning as he thought of the possibilities.

"It has cognitive function as well! Well knock me over with a feather," she said with a grin before leaning forward.

"The Headmaster spoke to me last night and said it would be best if I didn't try and contact you this summer."

He was all set to protest when Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed.

"As I was saying, I was told not to contact you via owl, but the Headmaster didn't mention anything about muggle post. I've included an envelope just inside the cover with my address. Postage has already been added as well. All you've got to do is string some words together, stick it in the envelope, lick the envelope, and put it in the post. Nod if you understand."

Harry nodded.

"Very good," Hermione continued, "I've already written you a letter and put it in the book as well. It's full of the things I've wanted to say to you over the last few months but have been too afraid to do so. You will write me a similar letter tonight and send it tomorrow with the pre-addressed envelope I have provided. Nod if you understand."

Harry nodded again, then did something he'd wanted to do for months; he kissed her.

He made his way through the barrier and spotted his Uncle Vernon, looking as annoyed as ever. As they made their way out of the station Harry glanced back at Hermione and her parents and gave a small wave, doing his best not to think about what awful things awaited him in the future. Like Hagrid had said, what would come would come, and he would have to meet it when it did. Besides, he owed someone three more years.