It was all happening in a blur... Hermione couldn't figure out if she was
awake or if she was dreaming, but surely this couldn't be a dream, it
seemed so real... She was pressed up closely against someone - so close
that the perspiration on their bodies mingled - and her sole purpose was to
pleasure this person she had her arms around. In a perfectly synchronized
choreography of heat and passion, she felt Harry making love to her...
Hermione awoke from her dream in a sweat. She was, to her great disappointment, alone. She was still clothed in her pajamas, and her bed was in a tangle not from two bodies writhing around in it, but one. Regaining consciousness, she sighed and rolled over so that she was facing her dresser, where a rose and a note from Ron were laid. She'd been having this recurring dream about Harry all week, ever since they'd kissed - but without Harry by her side when she awoke, those blissful dreams were more like nightmares.
Not that things were going much better in the daylight hours. Even though Hermione and Harry never spoke of the kiss they shared, there was still a silent but undeniable chemistry radiating between them that brought back vivid memories of the kiss every time she was in his presence. She found that every time she was near him (which was quite often), she couldn't look at his jet-black hair without wanting to run her fingers through it or his luscious lips without having the urge to plant kisses on them, and she couldn't even glance at his robes without having a crazy desire to remove them. She was so consumed by these feelings that it was impossible to look him in the eye, lest she'd start to stammer and stutter incoherently.
But she couldn't avoid Harry, because he spent most of his time with Ron, and avoiding Harry would mean avoiding Ron as well, and Hermione didn't want to worry Ron any more than she had the night she'd ran out on him in the common room.
Hermione reached over to her dresser, picked up the note from Ron, and read it. "Guess who asked Harry to the Snow Ball last night: Cho Chang! It's funny, you'd think he'd be acting more excited about it, but he barely even talks about the dance. Oh well. I can't wait for it - it's bound to be a thousand times better than the Yule Ball, since I get to be with you. Plus I finally have dress robes that are halfway decent. See you in the morning. Love, Ron."
Upon finding out about Cho, Hermione felt an unjustified fury surge through her body, and she crumpled the note up and threw it vehemently to the floor. She knew perfectly well that Harry was not her territory to claim; still, she felt like a sacred piece of Harry had been given to her the night of their kiss, and if Hermione couldn't have him, then no one else should be able to either.
Yawning and stretching, Hermione pulled herself out of bed, dressed in her black Hogwarts robes, and reluctantly made her way down to the Great Hall, where she would inevitably find Ron and Harry having breakfast. She waved to both of them and ran over to the Gryffindor table. Ron greeted her with a kiss, while Harry looked on, unable to mask the slight twinge of sourness in his eyes.
Hermione turned to Harry. "So," she said, trying to keep her voice steady and composed, "you're going to the ball with Cho."
"Yeah, I am," he confirmed, lowering his eyes to avoid Hermione's sharp gaze.
"What's the matter, Hermione?" Ron asked. "Got a secret grudge against Cho?" he grinned to show that he was joking, but Hermione was clearly serious about the matter.
"She doesn't even mean anything to you, Harry... She's just a pretty face, that's all." she spat icily. "She's got about as much personality as shredded boomslang skin. You only like her because she's popular and good at Quidditch."
"In short, everything you're not," Harry retorted, startled by this sudden attack.
Ron gaped, baffled, at their behavior. Normally it was himself and Hermione who were at eachother's throats, and he couldn't understand this unexpected role reversal. Before he had time to ponder on it, however, Hermione stood up, visibly infuriated and offended, and dashed out of the Hall without another word, leaving the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall thick with the echo of bitterness and resentment.
Harry followed her into the entrance hall and grabbed her arm. In an oddly hoarse voice, he told her, "You're just jealous of Cho because you're threatened by her. Afraid that I'm not always going to be sitting around wishing that it's me you're with instead of Ron. But I'm not yours to be with, so you can't make me miserable just because you're miserable with Ron."
He had struck a nerve. Tears glistened like diamonds in front of her hazel eyes, but she blinked them away and jerked her sleeve out of Harry's grip. In a fierce whisper, she said, "I'm not half as miserable as you'll be with Cho. Stop trying to make me jealous, because I know she means nothing to you." She turned away on her heel and ran back to the Gryffindor common room, where she could be alone.
* * *
The next three weeks preceding the Snow Ball passed uneventfully and calmly. Hermione was still with Ron, and although she had to endure watching Harry spend more and more time with Cho every day, she held her head up high and refused to let herself give in to the temptation of picking another argument with Harry where she'd be vulnerable to exposing her emotions and getting hurt.
The Snow Ball took place on a clear, mild night the week before Christmas break. Hermione was up in her dorm, oblivious to the shrieks around her of her fellow sixteen-year-old classmates as they frantically tried to make themselves look perfect for their dates. Hermione surveyed herself in the mirror (which luckily didn't shout any words of disapproval about her appearance). She had long since outgrown the periwinkle dress robes she had once owned, and she now wore an elegant pale yellow gown made out of a fine, wispy material. Her hair was no longer bushy but arranged into magnificent bronze-colored curls that cascaded down her back and shoulders, and shimmering drops of glitter shone on her lips and eyelashes. As she smiled at her reflection in the mirror, she pretended for a moment that she was Harry's date, and it was he who she was about to meet up with as she walked out of her dorm into the Gryffindor common room. But reality forced her out of this fantasy when she saw Ron waiting patiently for her in front of the fireplace.
"You look beautiful," he said softly to her as she approached.
"And you look handsome," she said. It was true; he had bought a new set of dress robes that were a deep midnight blue, giving him a distinguished appearance. Even so, Hermione's gaze flickered across the room to where Harry stood in robes of emerald green that matched his eyes, and a tingle flooded over her body.
As Hermione stepped out of the common room, arm-in-arm with Ron, she caught a glimpse of Cho walking towards Harry and embracing him. Bristling, Hermione felt an intense longing to let go of Ron's arm and run to Harry, pushing Cho aside so that Hermione could throw herself into Harry's arms and never leave them.
Ron and Hermione arrived in the Great Hall, and Hermione gasped in awe at the glorious, whimsical sight that met her eyes. The Great Hall was ablaze with red, green, white, and gold; Christmas colors blended together in seamless harmony, the walls were decorated elaborately from ceiling to floor, and the bewitched ceiling provided a window to the flurries of snow that were falling from the sky in an erratic waltz. It was simply breathtaking. A cheerful, festive song burst out of nowhere, and Ron pulled Hermione onto the dance floor, just a few yards from where Harry and Cho were dancing.
Hermione glared at Cho with an utmost loathing. She hated everything about her, from her straight, fine, gleaming hair to the hem of her flawlessly tailored amethyst-colored dress robes (which, in Hermione's opinion, clashed horribly with the color of Harry's robes). She particularly detested her arms, which were wrapped tightly around Harry's shoulders, her eyes, which were free to gaze adoringly into Harry's, and her mouth, which was smiling warmly at him and might even get to steal a kiss from him at the end of the night.
Meanwhile, Harry watcher Hermione and Ron twirl around the dance floor from over Cho's shoulder with the same kind of burning envy, but he felt no hatred towards Ron. Instead, he felt a sort of sympathy for his best friend; Ron had been betrayed and didn't even know it. Harry also felt sorry for himself. Remorsefully, he thought, "please forgive me, Ron, I've fallen in love with the girl who belongs to you," and he closed his eyes as if to say that he couldn't endure the agony of it.
Cho was attempting to engage him in conversation, but Harry was too occupied with staring raptly at Hermione to give her his full attention. "I saw you in that Quidditch game against Slytherin; you were really great." she was saying. "I heard that Ginny Weasley's a really dedicated team captain, even tougher than Wood was... You're an amazing Seeker to be able to pull off all the moves she wants you to do."
"Yeah, you too..." Harry replied vaguely, his eyes still following Hermione as if they were magnetically attracted to her.
Halfway through the evening, the couples took a break from dancing and visited the tables lined along the wall, which were filled with all the bountiful, tantalizing food imaginable. As Harry helped himself to a Butterbeer, he noticed that Ron was sitting at a table by himself. Harry took the vacant seat next to him. "Where's Hermione?"
"The bathroom," Ron replied, looking miffed. "You know how girls are... they tell you they'll be back in a little while, and then they don't show up for fifteen minutes..."
Harry nodded. "Gotta go," he said suddenly, putting down his untouched Butterbeer and bolting from the table and out of the room.
* * *
Hermione knew she wasn't alone... She could sense someone else's presence, and she heard someone swing their leg over the window ledge and climb out onto the roof, but she didn't lift her head up, because she knew who it was.
"When Ron said you left for the bathroom fifteen minutes ago and never came back, I figured this is where you'd be," Harry said, offering her a weak smile.
Hermione continued to act like no one was there.
"I didn't have fun with Cho tonight, you know." Harry said sharply.
"That's nice," Hermione muttered coldly.
Harry folded his arms. "Why are you acting like the victim here? You're with Ron, remember?! And I didn't ask Cho, she asked me! And the only reason I said yes to her was because I didn't want to spend the evening all by myself in the dorm, feeling wretched, while you and Ron were off having a good time!"
That's when Hermione lost it. In a blind rage, she seized a clump of snow from the window ledge and hurled it deftly at Harry with all her might. "I DID NOT HAVE A GOOD TIME!" she shrieked indignantly. "How could I possibly have a good time knowing that you were in the arms of that - that bitch?!"
Harry didn't take offense to the name Hermione called Cho. In fact, it was quite the contrary; his eyes twinkled mischievously at the idea of Hermione being jealous enough to call his date to the Ball a bitch.
"Think that's funny, do you?" Hermione snapped hotly.
"No, of course not," Harry said, a slight grin twitching slyly at the corners of his mouth as he scooped up the snow that Hermione had thrown at him off of his arm. "But this is." He lobbed the snow back at Hermione, and it caught in her hair, where it sparkled in the moonlight and made her look like some sort of snow queen.
"HEY!" Hermione cried in surprise. "Ooh, I'll get you for that..." Her tone was no longer stern and serious - it was playful. She snatched up more snow and flung it at Harry. He retaliated by grabbing her around the waist and tackling her, causing her to collapse onto the hard brick surface, where they wrestled around, giggling and acting silly. Harry managed to pin her down and he began to tickle her until she was begging for mercy. A wide grin spread over Harry's face, and he found himself wishing that Hermione could be his girlfriend. A stab of guilt panged his heart as he thought of Ron, but he was too caught up in the moment to let it stop him. While his thoughts were wandering, Hermione took the opportunity to break free of his grip and pounce on him. Accidentally, she kissed him on the cheek. The laughter came to an abrupt halt, and they just stared into eachother.
"Sorry," Hermione choked, her voice catching in her throat.
"Don't apologize..." Harry said huskily.
Their faces drew closer and closer until Hermione felt something warm and soft cover her mouth. Their lips had met for the second time. Somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind, a voice spoke up saying "this isn't right", but that voice was quickly stifled when Harry's tongue slipped past her teeth and gently prodded and explored her mouth, which was still tinged with the taste of the Butterbeer she'd drank at the Ball. Hermione softly nibbled his bottom lip, which was moist and smooth. When their lips parted, they gazed at eachother. The only sounds surrounding them were their jagged, heavy breathing and the music from the Great Hall that drifted up to meet their ears.
Hearing the music, Harry pulled Hermione to her feet and said, "Let's dance."
While hundreds of students danced below them in the Great Hall, Harry and Hermione were dancing atop the roof, off in their own secret, clandestine world. Harry was amazed at the ease in which Hermione fit into his arms as if that was exactly where she belonged. "This will be our own special place, okay?" he murmured in her ear. "No one else knows about it here except us."
They rocked gently and naturally to the rhythm, feeling more at ease with eachother than they had ever been with their dates. As Hermione's hands sensually caressed Harry's neck and roamed his hair, Harry became aware of a sudden, involuntary stiffening somewhere beneath his robes, and he prayed that Hermione didn't discover it. He shifted around uncomfortably, trying desperately to control the hormones that were engulfing his friendship with Hermione, but all he could think about was her warm breath on his cheek, her curls of hair resting gently on his shoulders, and how tightly her body was pressed against his, and all these things made him nearly dizzy with stimulation. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, and he was sure Hermione could feel it too, judging by the blush that quickly rose upon her cheeks, making her face glow scarlet.
Harry gulped. "I think we'd better get back to the Ball... Ron's probably worried about you."
Hermione slowly nodded, and Harry could tell by the dazed expression on her face that Ron hadn't even crossed her mind the entire time they'd been dancing. She turned and started off, subdued, back into the castle, once again leaving Harry standing alone on the rooftop struggling to absorb the immensity of what had just happened between them. And Harry didn't see her again until the next day, for he was asleep by the time Ron and Hermione had finished partying.
Hermione awoke from her dream in a sweat. She was, to her great disappointment, alone. She was still clothed in her pajamas, and her bed was in a tangle not from two bodies writhing around in it, but one. Regaining consciousness, she sighed and rolled over so that she was facing her dresser, where a rose and a note from Ron were laid. She'd been having this recurring dream about Harry all week, ever since they'd kissed - but without Harry by her side when she awoke, those blissful dreams were more like nightmares.
Not that things were going much better in the daylight hours. Even though Hermione and Harry never spoke of the kiss they shared, there was still a silent but undeniable chemistry radiating between them that brought back vivid memories of the kiss every time she was in his presence. She found that every time she was near him (which was quite often), she couldn't look at his jet-black hair without wanting to run her fingers through it or his luscious lips without having the urge to plant kisses on them, and she couldn't even glance at his robes without having a crazy desire to remove them. She was so consumed by these feelings that it was impossible to look him in the eye, lest she'd start to stammer and stutter incoherently.
But she couldn't avoid Harry, because he spent most of his time with Ron, and avoiding Harry would mean avoiding Ron as well, and Hermione didn't want to worry Ron any more than she had the night she'd ran out on him in the common room.
Hermione reached over to her dresser, picked up the note from Ron, and read it. "Guess who asked Harry to the Snow Ball last night: Cho Chang! It's funny, you'd think he'd be acting more excited about it, but he barely even talks about the dance. Oh well. I can't wait for it - it's bound to be a thousand times better than the Yule Ball, since I get to be with you. Plus I finally have dress robes that are halfway decent. See you in the morning. Love, Ron."
Upon finding out about Cho, Hermione felt an unjustified fury surge through her body, and she crumpled the note up and threw it vehemently to the floor. She knew perfectly well that Harry was not her territory to claim; still, she felt like a sacred piece of Harry had been given to her the night of their kiss, and if Hermione couldn't have him, then no one else should be able to either.
Yawning and stretching, Hermione pulled herself out of bed, dressed in her black Hogwarts robes, and reluctantly made her way down to the Great Hall, where she would inevitably find Ron and Harry having breakfast. She waved to both of them and ran over to the Gryffindor table. Ron greeted her with a kiss, while Harry looked on, unable to mask the slight twinge of sourness in his eyes.
Hermione turned to Harry. "So," she said, trying to keep her voice steady and composed, "you're going to the ball with Cho."
"Yeah, I am," he confirmed, lowering his eyes to avoid Hermione's sharp gaze.
"What's the matter, Hermione?" Ron asked. "Got a secret grudge against Cho?" he grinned to show that he was joking, but Hermione was clearly serious about the matter.
"She doesn't even mean anything to you, Harry... She's just a pretty face, that's all." she spat icily. "She's got about as much personality as shredded boomslang skin. You only like her because she's popular and good at Quidditch."
"In short, everything you're not," Harry retorted, startled by this sudden attack.
Ron gaped, baffled, at their behavior. Normally it was himself and Hermione who were at eachother's throats, and he couldn't understand this unexpected role reversal. Before he had time to ponder on it, however, Hermione stood up, visibly infuriated and offended, and dashed out of the Hall without another word, leaving the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall thick with the echo of bitterness and resentment.
Harry followed her into the entrance hall and grabbed her arm. In an oddly hoarse voice, he told her, "You're just jealous of Cho because you're threatened by her. Afraid that I'm not always going to be sitting around wishing that it's me you're with instead of Ron. But I'm not yours to be with, so you can't make me miserable just because you're miserable with Ron."
He had struck a nerve. Tears glistened like diamonds in front of her hazel eyes, but she blinked them away and jerked her sleeve out of Harry's grip. In a fierce whisper, she said, "I'm not half as miserable as you'll be with Cho. Stop trying to make me jealous, because I know she means nothing to you." She turned away on her heel and ran back to the Gryffindor common room, where she could be alone.
* * *
The next three weeks preceding the Snow Ball passed uneventfully and calmly. Hermione was still with Ron, and although she had to endure watching Harry spend more and more time with Cho every day, she held her head up high and refused to let herself give in to the temptation of picking another argument with Harry where she'd be vulnerable to exposing her emotions and getting hurt.
The Snow Ball took place on a clear, mild night the week before Christmas break. Hermione was up in her dorm, oblivious to the shrieks around her of her fellow sixteen-year-old classmates as they frantically tried to make themselves look perfect for their dates. Hermione surveyed herself in the mirror (which luckily didn't shout any words of disapproval about her appearance). She had long since outgrown the periwinkle dress robes she had once owned, and she now wore an elegant pale yellow gown made out of a fine, wispy material. Her hair was no longer bushy but arranged into magnificent bronze-colored curls that cascaded down her back and shoulders, and shimmering drops of glitter shone on her lips and eyelashes. As she smiled at her reflection in the mirror, she pretended for a moment that she was Harry's date, and it was he who she was about to meet up with as she walked out of her dorm into the Gryffindor common room. But reality forced her out of this fantasy when she saw Ron waiting patiently for her in front of the fireplace.
"You look beautiful," he said softly to her as she approached.
"And you look handsome," she said. It was true; he had bought a new set of dress robes that were a deep midnight blue, giving him a distinguished appearance. Even so, Hermione's gaze flickered across the room to where Harry stood in robes of emerald green that matched his eyes, and a tingle flooded over her body.
As Hermione stepped out of the common room, arm-in-arm with Ron, she caught a glimpse of Cho walking towards Harry and embracing him. Bristling, Hermione felt an intense longing to let go of Ron's arm and run to Harry, pushing Cho aside so that Hermione could throw herself into Harry's arms and never leave them.
Ron and Hermione arrived in the Great Hall, and Hermione gasped in awe at the glorious, whimsical sight that met her eyes. The Great Hall was ablaze with red, green, white, and gold; Christmas colors blended together in seamless harmony, the walls were decorated elaborately from ceiling to floor, and the bewitched ceiling provided a window to the flurries of snow that were falling from the sky in an erratic waltz. It was simply breathtaking. A cheerful, festive song burst out of nowhere, and Ron pulled Hermione onto the dance floor, just a few yards from where Harry and Cho were dancing.
Hermione glared at Cho with an utmost loathing. She hated everything about her, from her straight, fine, gleaming hair to the hem of her flawlessly tailored amethyst-colored dress robes (which, in Hermione's opinion, clashed horribly with the color of Harry's robes). She particularly detested her arms, which were wrapped tightly around Harry's shoulders, her eyes, which were free to gaze adoringly into Harry's, and her mouth, which was smiling warmly at him and might even get to steal a kiss from him at the end of the night.
Meanwhile, Harry watcher Hermione and Ron twirl around the dance floor from over Cho's shoulder with the same kind of burning envy, but he felt no hatred towards Ron. Instead, he felt a sort of sympathy for his best friend; Ron had been betrayed and didn't even know it. Harry also felt sorry for himself. Remorsefully, he thought, "please forgive me, Ron, I've fallen in love with the girl who belongs to you," and he closed his eyes as if to say that he couldn't endure the agony of it.
Cho was attempting to engage him in conversation, but Harry was too occupied with staring raptly at Hermione to give her his full attention. "I saw you in that Quidditch game against Slytherin; you were really great." she was saying. "I heard that Ginny Weasley's a really dedicated team captain, even tougher than Wood was... You're an amazing Seeker to be able to pull off all the moves she wants you to do."
"Yeah, you too..." Harry replied vaguely, his eyes still following Hermione as if they were magnetically attracted to her.
Halfway through the evening, the couples took a break from dancing and visited the tables lined along the wall, which were filled with all the bountiful, tantalizing food imaginable. As Harry helped himself to a Butterbeer, he noticed that Ron was sitting at a table by himself. Harry took the vacant seat next to him. "Where's Hermione?"
"The bathroom," Ron replied, looking miffed. "You know how girls are... they tell you they'll be back in a little while, and then they don't show up for fifteen minutes..."
Harry nodded. "Gotta go," he said suddenly, putting down his untouched Butterbeer and bolting from the table and out of the room.
* * *
Hermione knew she wasn't alone... She could sense someone else's presence, and she heard someone swing their leg over the window ledge and climb out onto the roof, but she didn't lift her head up, because she knew who it was.
"When Ron said you left for the bathroom fifteen minutes ago and never came back, I figured this is where you'd be," Harry said, offering her a weak smile.
Hermione continued to act like no one was there.
"I didn't have fun with Cho tonight, you know." Harry said sharply.
"That's nice," Hermione muttered coldly.
Harry folded his arms. "Why are you acting like the victim here? You're with Ron, remember?! And I didn't ask Cho, she asked me! And the only reason I said yes to her was because I didn't want to spend the evening all by myself in the dorm, feeling wretched, while you and Ron were off having a good time!"
That's when Hermione lost it. In a blind rage, she seized a clump of snow from the window ledge and hurled it deftly at Harry with all her might. "I DID NOT HAVE A GOOD TIME!" she shrieked indignantly. "How could I possibly have a good time knowing that you were in the arms of that - that bitch?!"
Harry didn't take offense to the name Hermione called Cho. In fact, it was quite the contrary; his eyes twinkled mischievously at the idea of Hermione being jealous enough to call his date to the Ball a bitch.
"Think that's funny, do you?" Hermione snapped hotly.
"No, of course not," Harry said, a slight grin twitching slyly at the corners of his mouth as he scooped up the snow that Hermione had thrown at him off of his arm. "But this is." He lobbed the snow back at Hermione, and it caught in her hair, where it sparkled in the moonlight and made her look like some sort of snow queen.
"HEY!" Hermione cried in surprise. "Ooh, I'll get you for that..." Her tone was no longer stern and serious - it was playful. She snatched up more snow and flung it at Harry. He retaliated by grabbing her around the waist and tackling her, causing her to collapse onto the hard brick surface, where they wrestled around, giggling and acting silly. Harry managed to pin her down and he began to tickle her until she was begging for mercy. A wide grin spread over Harry's face, and he found himself wishing that Hermione could be his girlfriend. A stab of guilt panged his heart as he thought of Ron, but he was too caught up in the moment to let it stop him. While his thoughts were wandering, Hermione took the opportunity to break free of his grip and pounce on him. Accidentally, she kissed him on the cheek. The laughter came to an abrupt halt, and they just stared into eachother.
"Sorry," Hermione choked, her voice catching in her throat.
"Don't apologize..." Harry said huskily.
Their faces drew closer and closer until Hermione felt something warm and soft cover her mouth. Their lips had met for the second time. Somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind, a voice spoke up saying "this isn't right", but that voice was quickly stifled when Harry's tongue slipped past her teeth and gently prodded and explored her mouth, which was still tinged with the taste of the Butterbeer she'd drank at the Ball. Hermione softly nibbled his bottom lip, which was moist and smooth. When their lips parted, they gazed at eachother. The only sounds surrounding them were their jagged, heavy breathing and the music from the Great Hall that drifted up to meet their ears.
Hearing the music, Harry pulled Hermione to her feet and said, "Let's dance."
While hundreds of students danced below them in the Great Hall, Harry and Hermione were dancing atop the roof, off in their own secret, clandestine world. Harry was amazed at the ease in which Hermione fit into his arms as if that was exactly where she belonged. "This will be our own special place, okay?" he murmured in her ear. "No one else knows about it here except us."
They rocked gently and naturally to the rhythm, feeling more at ease with eachother than they had ever been with their dates. As Hermione's hands sensually caressed Harry's neck and roamed his hair, Harry became aware of a sudden, involuntary stiffening somewhere beneath his robes, and he prayed that Hermione didn't discover it. He shifted around uncomfortably, trying desperately to control the hormones that were engulfing his friendship with Hermione, but all he could think about was her warm breath on his cheek, her curls of hair resting gently on his shoulders, and how tightly her body was pressed against his, and all these things made him nearly dizzy with stimulation. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, and he was sure Hermione could feel it too, judging by the blush that quickly rose upon her cheeks, making her face glow scarlet.
Harry gulped. "I think we'd better get back to the Ball... Ron's probably worried about you."
Hermione slowly nodded, and Harry could tell by the dazed expression on her face that Ron hadn't even crossed her mind the entire time they'd been dancing. She turned and started off, subdued, back into the castle, once again leaving Harry standing alone on the rooftop struggling to absorb the immensity of what had just happened between them. And Harry didn't see her again until the next day, for he was asleep by the time Ron and Hermione had finished partying.