Disclaimer: OK, OK! I know I said I wasn't going to write this anymore but
I changed my mind. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in my
stories unless I later tell you otherwise. The plot is mine, so no copying
my ideas in your story!
A/N: Hey guys, I'm back. Sorry this took me so long but I had to wait until Saturday to write it because I had so much homework this week (I'm in eighth grade and my teachers get their kicks by watching teenagers stress out). Plus I haven't exactly had the best time the last few days. Anyway, this is the last chapter until I get 5 reviews. I've got 9 right now and two of them are mine so I'd really appreciate it if you guys took the time to review, even if you flame. Thanks and enjoy the story!
Harry Potter and the Last Dance (A/N: I'm thinking about changing the title)
Chapter 3
All through the rest of Ancient Runes, Harry kept his eyes either locked on the professor or his desk. He couldn't risk looking over at Hermione again, because that would be--well, that would be too embarrassing to think about.
It wasn't that he was afraid of what she would say--her smile when she read it had finally convinced him she wouldn't be completely freaked out--but it was more that he was terrified of what he would undoubtedly have to do next.
The note, the same one that had fallen out of Hermione's book, was now lying facedown in front of her. Harry again cursed himself. He had written that letter just the week before, on some already half-forgotten night he had awoken from a dream. Just like that night itself, the dream was fading away, gradually drifting out of Harry's mind forever. He still knew, however, that whatever or whomever that had been with him in the nightmare had done enough to rouse him, his heart pounding furiously against his chest.
He had been shaking, he knew, and had to use both hands to put on his glasses before he sprang out of bed. From a desk by the wall of his dormatory he had drawn out some parchment, ink, and a quill, and sat there. Anything after that was a ridiculous blur, one of those moments in a person's life they'd rather forget, either because of embarrassment or disbelief at their actions. Harry, of course, thought that this situation was a mixture of both, as his only memory still clear of that time was when Ron had shaken him awake the next morning.
He, Harry, was slouched over the desk, his quill still in his hand and his head resting on the parchment. Later, when he read the letter he had written, his mouth had opened in shock but he had smiled, just the same.
"Dear Hermione," it had read.
"I don't know what I am doing right now or why I am sitting here, writing to you. I mean, I know why, I just--er, it's hard to explain.
"It's probably sometime around midnight. At least it feels like that, like its only been a few minutes since I said goodnight to you and left the common room. But--I'm sure it has been much longer, because I was asleep, and I had another dream. I don't remember what it was about, only that it scared me very much--and it involved you.
"Don't get all terrified now and tell me I should write to Sirius or go to Dumbledore--or the WORST, say I should go look up something in the library, because I'm pretty sure it had nothing to do with Voldemort. It was a different type of fear, a kind that makes you feel ill when you're not. I don't know what it was because I've never felt it before, and that scares me.
"And WHY am I writing this?!?! I can't believe I'm bothering you. I'm sorry, Hermione, if I worried you. Please just forget what I've said--I'm sure it's nothing, but I hope it's something. That will confuse you, won't it? Well, it's just that I'm not sure how to tell you my theory (YES, you can laugh now because I've actually thought about something long enough to develop a theory about it).
"I don't know how you'll react, but you've probably already figured this out because of all my rambling, and it doesn't matter what I say now.
"After I woke from that dream, I got up and sat down at my desk, my hands shaking from shock. I realized that I didn't like Cho anymore. Is that what normal dreams do? Mine are usually about Voldemort, so I wouldn't know. And then--then I realized something else, and knowing you I don't have to say anything more but:
"All my love,
"Harry."
Now, thinking back upon that letter, Harry cringed. Maybe Hermione had been smiling because she thought he was mad, or worse yet, she thought it was a joke. He twirled his quill between his fingers nervously, gazing at his watch every few seconds and trying desperately to listen to the class, to no avail.
When the professor finally dismissed everyone, Harry set off in a beeline to the Charms classroom. He didn't know why he was acting the way he was, but he did know he had to avoid Hermione at all costs. It wasn't really what he wanted to do, because what he wanted more than anything right now, besides sticking his head in a hole in the sand for the rest of his life, was to find Hermione and explain the letter. And maybe--maybe tell her his secret, the one he had hinted heavily at in his letter.
He didn't hear Hermione coming until she was right behind him, and by then he knew it was to late to try and duck inside an empty classroom. "Harry," she said, practically running to keep up with him. Harry didn't answer, couldn't answer--he had lost his voice and his courage completely. "Harry!" This time she reached out and touched his arm. He froze, stopping so suddenly that Hermione slammed into his back. 'Great, Harry,' he thought. 'Now you have to go and have her walk into you.'
Harry turned to face her, his cheeks now burning with the shame of running from her. He reached out and lifted her chin so their eyes met. "Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded. "I'm sorry I was ignoring you, it's just that I--"
"No, Harry," she whispered, her eyes glittering with something like mischief. She took his hand in hers, pressing a piece of parchment into his open palm. "I'm fine, really."
He blinked in confusion, closing his hand around the slip of paper. He tried to make his eyes ask what she was doing--it was obvious she hadn't wanted anyone to see her give him the note--but she only nodded at him, a slight smile on her face. "Come on," she said, the mischievious glint in her eyes growing. "Ron will wonder what happened to us if we're late." With that, Hermione brushed past him and continued on her way down the hall.
Harry shook his head in disbelief, pocketed the paper, and turned to silently follow her.
A/N: I know that not much took place during this chapter, but I'm trying to slowly introduce the story. It's just the way I write, and I'm sorry about that. Also, I'm trying to make the chapters longer but I'm in a hurry too. As it is, one chapter takes me an hour to write. Well, anyway, I hope this chapter cleared up any confusion about Harry's note--you'll learn next chapter why he put it in Hermione's book and what her note says, all that stuff. Hope you liked it, and as I said, I won't write the next chapter until I get 5 more reviews (sorry, I just need to get some feedback and figure out how many people are actually bothering to read this).
LUV, ~ME~
A/N: Hey guys, I'm back. Sorry this took me so long but I had to wait until Saturday to write it because I had so much homework this week (I'm in eighth grade and my teachers get their kicks by watching teenagers stress out). Plus I haven't exactly had the best time the last few days. Anyway, this is the last chapter until I get 5 reviews. I've got 9 right now and two of them are mine so I'd really appreciate it if you guys took the time to review, even if you flame. Thanks and enjoy the story!
Harry Potter and the Last Dance (A/N: I'm thinking about changing the title)
Chapter 3
All through the rest of Ancient Runes, Harry kept his eyes either locked on the professor or his desk. He couldn't risk looking over at Hermione again, because that would be--well, that would be too embarrassing to think about.
It wasn't that he was afraid of what she would say--her smile when she read it had finally convinced him she wouldn't be completely freaked out--but it was more that he was terrified of what he would undoubtedly have to do next.
The note, the same one that had fallen out of Hermione's book, was now lying facedown in front of her. Harry again cursed himself. He had written that letter just the week before, on some already half-forgotten night he had awoken from a dream. Just like that night itself, the dream was fading away, gradually drifting out of Harry's mind forever. He still knew, however, that whatever or whomever that had been with him in the nightmare had done enough to rouse him, his heart pounding furiously against his chest.
He had been shaking, he knew, and had to use both hands to put on his glasses before he sprang out of bed. From a desk by the wall of his dormatory he had drawn out some parchment, ink, and a quill, and sat there. Anything after that was a ridiculous blur, one of those moments in a person's life they'd rather forget, either because of embarrassment or disbelief at their actions. Harry, of course, thought that this situation was a mixture of both, as his only memory still clear of that time was when Ron had shaken him awake the next morning.
He, Harry, was slouched over the desk, his quill still in his hand and his head resting on the parchment. Later, when he read the letter he had written, his mouth had opened in shock but he had smiled, just the same.
"Dear Hermione," it had read.
"I don't know what I am doing right now or why I am sitting here, writing to you. I mean, I know why, I just--er, it's hard to explain.
"It's probably sometime around midnight. At least it feels like that, like its only been a few minutes since I said goodnight to you and left the common room. But--I'm sure it has been much longer, because I was asleep, and I had another dream. I don't remember what it was about, only that it scared me very much--and it involved you.
"Don't get all terrified now and tell me I should write to Sirius or go to Dumbledore--or the WORST, say I should go look up something in the library, because I'm pretty sure it had nothing to do with Voldemort. It was a different type of fear, a kind that makes you feel ill when you're not. I don't know what it was because I've never felt it before, and that scares me.
"And WHY am I writing this?!?! I can't believe I'm bothering you. I'm sorry, Hermione, if I worried you. Please just forget what I've said--I'm sure it's nothing, but I hope it's something. That will confuse you, won't it? Well, it's just that I'm not sure how to tell you my theory (YES, you can laugh now because I've actually thought about something long enough to develop a theory about it).
"I don't know how you'll react, but you've probably already figured this out because of all my rambling, and it doesn't matter what I say now.
"After I woke from that dream, I got up and sat down at my desk, my hands shaking from shock. I realized that I didn't like Cho anymore. Is that what normal dreams do? Mine are usually about Voldemort, so I wouldn't know. And then--then I realized something else, and knowing you I don't have to say anything more but:
"All my love,
"Harry."
Now, thinking back upon that letter, Harry cringed. Maybe Hermione had been smiling because she thought he was mad, or worse yet, she thought it was a joke. He twirled his quill between his fingers nervously, gazing at his watch every few seconds and trying desperately to listen to the class, to no avail.
When the professor finally dismissed everyone, Harry set off in a beeline to the Charms classroom. He didn't know why he was acting the way he was, but he did know he had to avoid Hermione at all costs. It wasn't really what he wanted to do, because what he wanted more than anything right now, besides sticking his head in a hole in the sand for the rest of his life, was to find Hermione and explain the letter. And maybe--maybe tell her his secret, the one he had hinted heavily at in his letter.
He didn't hear Hermione coming until she was right behind him, and by then he knew it was to late to try and duck inside an empty classroom. "Harry," she said, practically running to keep up with him. Harry didn't answer, couldn't answer--he had lost his voice and his courage completely. "Harry!" This time she reached out and touched his arm. He froze, stopping so suddenly that Hermione slammed into his back. 'Great, Harry,' he thought. 'Now you have to go and have her walk into you.'
Harry turned to face her, his cheeks now burning with the shame of running from her. He reached out and lifted her chin so their eyes met. "Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded. "I'm sorry I was ignoring you, it's just that I--"
"No, Harry," she whispered, her eyes glittering with something like mischief. She took his hand in hers, pressing a piece of parchment into his open palm. "I'm fine, really."
He blinked in confusion, closing his hand around the slip of paper. He tried to make his eyes ask what she was doing--it was obvious she hadn't wanted anyone to see her give him the note--but she only nodded at him, a slight smile on her face. "Come on," she said, the mischievious glint in her eyes growing. "Ron will wonder what happened to us if we're late." With that, Hermione brushed past him and continued on her way down the hall.
Harry shook his head in disbelief, pocketed the paper, and turned to silently follow her.
A/N: I know that not much took place during this chapter, but I'm trying to slowly introduce the story. It's just the way I write, and I'm sorry about that. Also, I'm trying to make the chapters longer but I'm in a hurry too. As it is, one chapter takes me an hour to write. Well, anyway, I hope this chapter cleared up any confusion about Harry's note--you'll learn next chapter why he put it in Hermione's book and what her note says, all that stuff. Hope you liked it, and as I said, I won't write the next chapter until I get 5 more reviews (sorry, I just need to get some feedback and figure out how many people are actually bothering to read this).
LUV, ~ME~