I'VE HIT 200 REVIEWS! MUWHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Thanks everyone!!

…~'*'~…

Jenny: Of course this chapter would come out before school! If Meg doesn't post it, Meg will have to slam her ears in the oven door if she doesn't! (bad, Meg, BAD!) Thanks for your review! Hope you like this chapter!

Funky_Chicken: Okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay, I will update! *hehe* Thanks for thinking that this story is cool!

Kronic: Harry Potter kicks ass indeed!

Kitty: I'll put the next chapter up right……………… now.

Celtic / Alex: Yes, yes, I know. I make a few mistakes. Thanks for being one of the many who point that out.

Kaydee: Awwwww… ickle Kaydee had a rashy under her widdle nosey? *snicker* You're Canadian too, eh? (I know what you're wondering. I put that "eh" purposely!) That's great! You were talking about the Badboy guy… I never knew he was the Mayor! I've never even gone to that Badboy's place! But I do know that his commercial was a tad corny. But hey, who am I to say! I am but only one person! (Shakesphere, I think) Anyways, as I read your reviews… wait a second… YOU DON'T LIKE HOCKEY! YOU MONSTER! Joking! I wont hold that against you! And you said that you were sooo happy when the men's gold medal game… but did you cry? Like me? (ahem… did I let that slip? Sorry.) That game'll stick with me forever. There was like, 2 minutes left, and BOOM! 2 more goals until the game was over and Wayne went into hysterics. *sigh* And about the Leafs? The Leafs suck now. Their careers are over, as I see it. Unless we get a miracle… which I doubt. Anyways, you haven't seen the picture of Tom Riddle yet? Here's that link, then --- http://www.rexfeatures.com/cgi-bin/rppshimg0?i=379885A ------ It should work. He looks kind of funny but he's in his school uniform with the Slytherin symbol thingy. He almost looks like a snake, but I think it's just because he's getting ready to take a drink of his coffee. And did you hear that Emma Watson went to the Scooby Doo premier with Tom Felton… Tom Felton! Why not Dan, huh, Watson? Why not promote that H/H everyone likes to see? … I just remembered she's not reading this… ^_^;. Anyways, thanks very much for your many, many, long reviews! (DUCKTAPE FOREVER, my love to Royal Canadian Air Farce (not a typo), and long live Mike Bullard! "Hello? Sweden? Yeah. Are you watching channel 11? Good, because…. WE WON!" (That's my assumption of what Mike said, as I haven't seen that episode… *sniff, sniff*)

Catherine: WoW! You flatter me! *Baaaaaawwwwww*

DragonBlood_04: Thanks for going through all that trouble to review! I'm glad you like Miss Marmalade; she seems incredibly good-natured… and I think you have an idea about her, don't you? Or at least the article…. right? Don't answer that! I don't want anyone to know!

Ib: Why do I hate Ron so much? Why wouldn't you hate Ron so much? He's too nosey and rude and inconsiderate and dull-minded and he doesn't realize that Harry doesn't have it any better than he does! *snort* My favorite Character is Harry, and really, he sometimes treats him pretty badly for a best friend. But… he's done some really good things too, I must admit. I've put some good things in this fic about him… I even surprise myself how nice I can make him sometimes! And about the Fred and George issue… a Harry Potter fic is not a Harry Potter fic without the twins. Nuff said.

…~'*'~…

Hermione woke up the next morning to the pleasant beams of misty sunlight spreading over her four-poster, the cold air on the outside of her covers tickling her face. The smell of evergreen nipped her nose in a pleasant sort of way, reminding her that it was Christmas morning.

            Hermione sat up, rubbing her eyes of sleep, and looked out her window at a beautiful sight. The grounds were being covered in bundles of white, cottony snow and the bare trees were layers with ice. Even as she watched, large pieces of the snow fell to the ground from the sagging branches. Just looking at all the white and frosty windows made her feel better than she recently was.

            "Happy Christmas, Hermione," said Ginny pleasantly, who had came over from her four-poster, already dressed in her robes and crimson Weasley jumper (the Weasleys and Harry had always got a jumper from Mr. Weasley for Christmas every year). Hermione smiled a little.

            "You too," she said, stretching.

            "You'd better hurry, everyone's in the Common Room already… Ron's waiting for you," she giggled, "He's trying to be patient because of the Holiday, but I think he's going to lose his temper soon." Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust.

            "It's going to be a long day," she sighed tiredly, "Thanks, Ginny, I'll be down soon."

            Ginny nodded and left to the common room. Hermione got to her feet, stumbling a bit, walked to her trunk where she gathered her robes and dressed at her four-poster.

            As usual, her mind drifted off to Harry as it always did in the mornings she'd wake up to the nights she'd turn in. She wondered how he'd be doing and if she and Ron would be allowed to see him in the infirmary for a small talk. Perhaps she would soon be told that he was allowed to roam the castle freely. Whatever the case, Hermione was reaching a state where she was unaware, almost delusional, if Harry existed at all anymore.

            Hermione, who was now dressed and looking fairly well put together, went back to her trunk to but her things away. She collected her books that she was reading the night before, a large pile which happened to include 'The New Hogwarts: A History' Harry had bought her. She was about to tip them all into her trunk until something caught her eye.

            Sitting at the bottom between her rolls of parchment and her Transfiguration books was a gold box that shimmered expectantly in the hazy light from her window. It was Harry's Christmas gift that Hermione had bought at their trip to the village some time ago. She had thought he'd be out of the infirmary by the time she had brought it back to the castle, but now, it was just sitting in the darkness of her trunk, collecting dust.

            Hermione gulped, her knees bending to let the books in her arms gently fall to the ground. Pale with apprehension, she put her hands on the top of the open trunk, ready to slam it shut, but she hesitated. It was just sitting there, motionless, the gold shimmering as if it were teasing her. It wouldn't hurt just to look at it, just to make she that it was still all right. Hermione released her trunk, carefully reached inside, and pulled out the bullion box with trembling hands.

            Inside, wrapped in sparkling red paper, was a photo frame with glass casing. Hermione staggered over to her four-poster, put the gold box and wrappings on her pillow and sat, the frame clutched tightly in both hands. Her eyes traced the elegantly engraved edge to the cheerful photo inside it. It was a picture of Harry, being lifted onto the shoulders of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, when he had won them the first Quidditch cup in their third year. She and Ron were next to him, hoisting him up in triumph, looking ecstatic. It was a photo taken by Colin Creevy and his Muggle camera (his friend had it changed it to a moving photograph) and even as Hermione watched, Harry was laughing and Ron was pounding him on his back. And at the bottom of the photograph was Hermione's tidy signature and Ron messy one in permanent ink.

            Hermione's eyes stung, watching Harry. He looked so young and untroubled, much unlike she had seen him last. But that wasn't why she felt a gist of sadness overcome her; it was because this was the first time she laid eyes on anything remotely like Harry, even though it was in a frame. This was the first time she had seen his face since the accident with Marindernia. Hermione's fingertips brushed against the photograph… and for a moment, Hermione thought she saw the photographic Harry wink at her, the corner of his lips curving into a small smile…

            The door to the dormitory suddenly creaked open, making Hermione jump and scream. But her expression of alarm was soon replaced with fury, seeing Ron's freckled face poke through the opening.

            "RON!" shrieked Hermione, her eyes on him but her hands fumbling for the gold box next to her, "You're not allowed in here, you know that!"

            "I know, but I couldn't wait any longer! You take too bloody long!" said Ron furiously, closing the door, "Hurry up already!"

            Hermione jumped to her feet. Once she had put the framed photograph back in it's box and the ribbons were securely tied, Hermione pilled all her books inside her trunk, grabbed Ron's wrapped gift and checked if anything was missing until turned back to Harry's gift. Indecisive for a moment, she stuffed it inside the pockets in her robes and left the dorm.

            Hermione hurried down to the common room and spotted Ron, who was also wearing his Weasley jumper, waiting for her in one of the armchairs, a very chaotically wrapped box in his lap.

            "Here!" said Hermione furiously. She threw his Christmas gift at him, and he caught it.

            "Ah, you should have!" he said with a very foolish grin, "Here's yours."

            Hermione found her gift pushed into her hands. She immediately knew what it was, with its obvious shape of a turret. When she peeled away the paper, she found that she was right; had given her a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Ron had opened his gift, which was a Chudley Cannons quill that when you'd write, it would emit orange sparks while the small, plastic bludger on the top would spin feverishly.

            "Wow!" said Ron in fascination, staring at it as the sparks flew up, narrowly missing his head, "Thanks!"

            "Thank you," said Hermione, opening her Bertie Botts and picking out a reddish orange one, which turned out to be ginger sorbet.

            "Hey, Ron!" said Fred, who were just walking across the common room to the Grand Hall with George, both wearing matching blue Weasley jumpers, "You're going to be late, you know. I heard that there's going to be Father Christmas at breakfast!"
            They left, laughing as they went. Ron snorted, shaking his head.

            "We better get going, then."

            Hermione had a vague impression that Harry's absence was still nagging at Ron, and he seemed to be struggling to joke and act like himself, but looking very solemn in the process. He amused himself with his Chudley Cannons quill on the way to the Grand Hall, where they sat at the Hogwart's table with Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Lee Jordan and the Twins.

            Hermione noticed that Dryconderoga was going the extra mile for their visitors; the Hall looked much more decorated than what Hermione had seen yesterday. There were about a dozen more bedecked Christmas trees and the garland was in more places than it should be. The dishes of food were on special red, green and gold platters and they even had Christmas pastries. But no Father Christmas, not that Hermione believed it.

            Hermione helped herself to eggs and toast, leaving out the Christmassy dishes. She wasn't really hungry. She got halfway through her pumpkin juice until she was given her Christmas gifts from her parents with a school owl she had sent to them with a letter. It turned out to be a new jumper and a subscription for the "Witch's Weekly' magazine. Ron had got a cockroach in his goblet from the twins.

            At the point where Hermione was nearly finished, she realized that Hagrid, who was sitting at the front of the Hall between Professor Sprout and Professor Kohl, looked tremendously happier than last time she had seen him. In fact, all the Professors looked cheerful; Siamoen was no longer bumbling and Dumbledore was… Hermione looked twice. Dumbledore wasn't sitting with them. She pointed this out to Ron.

            "Strange," she said slowly, "Maybe he's planning a surprise…"

            "Father Christmas!" shouted George, who had heard him. Ron scowled.

            "No… I don't think so," said Hermione, "Maybe he's just late."

            "Or maybe he's waiting to speak with you in the Headmaster's office," interrupted a strict voice behind them. Hermione and Ron jumped and gasped in surprise, seeing that it was Professor McGonagall, who was wearing red and green robes for the occasion, who spoke behind them. She raised a thin eyebrow at them.

            "H-hello Professor. Who were y-you talking to?" stuttered Ron. He clenched his eyes shut, dreading the answer, but she had answered with a name Hermione was ready to expect.

            "Miss. Granger, of course," she said eyeing Ron with curiosity. She looked at Hermione, "Come along, now. You will be back later."

            Hermione stood, most of the students watching her, and glanced at Ron, who was looking very curious. He had no idea what was going on, but Hermione might've had a vague notion. She quickly followed Professor McGonagall out of the Grand Hall to a smaller room from a winding passageway, then to a dark, unlit corridor that Hermione had never walked into. Far from being curious to where Professor Siamoen's office would be, Hermione's thoughts were on what Dumbledore wanted to talk to her about. It had to be about Marindernia; the unknown cause of Harry's accident was still floating around. Or for some reason, it could be about Harry. Hermione braced herself as Professor McGonagall stopped at a tall, narrow door a few doors away from the end of the corridor. She knocked three times on it, and behind it came a deep voice, "Enter."

            Professor McGonagall opened the door and gestured Hermione to step inside.

            Hermione walked into an enormous angular room the size of the entrance hall back at Hogwarts. It, like the rest of Dryconderoga, it was decked in green; green curtains and hangings, green statues and green portraits, as the light coming from a vast fireplace had green flames. To the side was a desk, and sitting at it was Dumbledore, speaking with Siamoen. Hermione, trembling from head to foot, stopped dead at the sight of them, and jumped when Professor McGonagall closed the door behind her.

            "I'll see to it that the feast is well accounted for," said Siamoen merrily, clapping his hands together in excitement, "We can't have a lackluster time for our new guests!"

            "Yes, I'm sure you will be exciting, Slaton. It will be a pleasure for me to attend," said Dumbledore as Siamoen sidled to the door, "And thank you for the use of your office."

            "Not a problem!" Siamoen gave a cheerful smile at Hermione as he passed her and hurried out the door. Hermione gulped as the door snapped closed again, and she was left alone with Dumbledore. Still tremulous, she watched as he leaned over the desk to gather some rolls of parchment that he must have been writing on. Then he sighed, stood up and walked over to the fireside, where a small kettle was brewing.

            "Would you like some tea, Miss Granger," he said, not looking at her as took the kettle and placed it heavily on the desk, "Professor Siamoen has suggested for you to make yourself at home," Hermione had to find her voice before she could speak.

            "N-no thank you, sir," she said quietly. Dumbledore, however, magiced a teacup from his wand and poured the steaming water inside it. Then he sat back down and gestured to one of the armchairs before the desk.

            "Please sit, Miss. Granger," he said kindly. Hermione did as she was told, trying not to wonder why he was acting so differently, so… pleasant. She kept her head low and her hands twisting in her lap.

            "Now," sighed Dumbledore, folding his hands atop the desk, "I need to ask you a few questions. I'm not asking you to tell me the details that you do not wish for he to know. But I am asking you to tell me the truth. Do you understand?"

            Hermione looked up at him and regretfully nodded.

            "I understand that you were very distressed on the day of the second task, Miss Granger," started Dumbledore slowly, wanting Hermione to understand, "I imagine that you did not desire to tell me the truth of the cause of your sudden state of anxiety with the other students close by, and whatnot," he paused, "Miss Granger, will you tell me what was the matter on that day?"

            Hermione looked up at him. He looked almost inhuman, with the glow of the fire dancing on his otherwise friendly face. His eyes were sparkling and staring. But Hermione had heard many stories from Harry that he could tell him about things, like the concerns with Sirius, Voldemort and his dead parents. Hermione decided that she'd tell him all she could allow herself.

            "T-the reason that I acted like that was because… I saw something that I know I shouldn't have," Hermione began, "I didn't want to watch the second task because I felt ill… so I stayed in the castle," she hesitated for a moment, "I went to an abandoned classroom to watch a little bit of the task through an open window, and… I saw Marindernia there in the back room."

            Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, "And what was different about her?"

            "Well, she was… she was just like I told you before, glowing and hovering in midair," explained Hermione in a rush, "And… her eyes were red and she was mumbling a language I've never heard of. It was like she… wasn't in her own body."

            It was like all the disbelieving things Hermione had said made sense to Dumbledore somehow. She didn't know what made her think of it, but Hermione had a slight idea that he knew what was happening.

            "Anything else you remember?" he asked her, but Hermione shook her head.

            "Thank you for your answer," said Dumbledore, "That brings us to my second question: did you see what happened to Harry on the night he was attacked?"

            Hermione snapped her head up to look at him, but she didn't mean to. She knew she couldn't tell him about what had happened; it was something that she and Ron were only to know (Harry too, but she wasn't sure if he went unconscious before he realized who it was). What would happen if it got out to the entire school? But then… perhaps if she told… he could do something to prevent Harry from getting hurt.

            "I just caught a glimpse of them, it could've been anyone. But I think it was… er… Marindernia."
            More understanding gleamed in Dumbledore's eyes. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling in concentration.

            "I see," he said, "Is that all you know, Miss Granger?"

            "Yes sir,"

            He nodded. He spent a minute thinking, Hermione watching him in interest, hoping that she could soon leave. She told him all she wanted to tell, and if Dumbledore were left to think, he'd stumble across another tough question for sure.

            "Miss. Granger," said Dumbledore, interrupting Hermione's thoughts, "your friend from the Daily Prophet told me how upset you and Mr. Weasley appeared to be when she was interviewing you," he looked at her, "Have you read her article yet?"

            Hermione had completely forgot about the article. She shook her head vigorously, and at that, Dumbledore sat up and reached across the desk to pick up one of the papers. It was the front page of the Daily Prophet.

            "I suggest you do," he told her with a very wide smile, "It seems that all the staff were genuinely surprised with it."

            Hermione accepted the article with slightly shaking hands and looked at it. There, below the fancy writing of 'The Daily Prophet' was a moving picture of the Dryconderoga castle as it looked the day Madam Marmalade interviewed Ron and her. And next to it was the same text Hermione had seen the quill write. All the things Hermione said was there and not changed around to sound more exciting. But as she read, she noticed that there was a new piece added to it. A part Madam Marmalade must had written before Ron and Hermione's interview:

…While Hermione, the clever and ambitious girl, and Ron, the comical yet charming boy has had no word on the progress of their good friend's recovery, Harry Potter, I decide to surprise them a little.

With the permission of Slaton Siamoen, the headmaster of Dryconderoga, I am admitted into the infirmary to meet this boy I've heard so much of. I find him resting in a hospital bed, reading his favourite book 'Quidditch Through The Ages'. Compared to his former state, he looked incredibly healthier indeed.

And, what's more, he agrees with an interview.

I understand that Harry dislikes interviews, as most do, so I ask him the obvious questions, such as how he was feeling at that moment.

'Very well,' he told me, 'I've had a few potions and I feel a lot better.'

Harry had been told to remain his hospital bed for a few long weeks now, with no notice from his friends.

'I've had a few of my Professors see me, but nobody else,' he admits, 'The matron who works here wont allow it. She's a bit strict… not that it's a bad thing.'

But I made sure I threw in a few good words from his best friends. I tell him that I had interviewed Ron and Hermione, and he smiled very widely, as if he was waiting for word from them.

            'You have? How are they?' he asked me, 'Do you know if I can see them yet?'

            It was apparent that he wanted to leave the infirmary as soon as he could. If anything, this boy has the power and strength to do what he wishes, but like his friend said, 'It's completely his choice and we'll agree with him with whatever he decides'. The entire country wishes you good luck, Harry Potter.

Hermione lowered the paper to her lap once she had finished. Her mouth was open and her head was buzzing with excitement.

            "Quite a recovery Mr. Potter has taken, Miss. Granger," said Dumbledore with a chuckle, "And an hour ago when I visited him, he was still exceedingly anxious to see Mr. Weasley…" his beard twitched, "…and you."

            Hermione hadn't really heard what Dumbledore had said. The one thing that she really wanted to hear made her insides freeze.

            "Professor," she gasped, tossing the Daily Prophet on the desk in excitement, "You just said you've seen him, right? Can… can I?"

            Dumbledore drained his teacup and smiled at her, "Why not. You've waited long enough. You're friend Ron should be there by now."

            Hermione forgot to grimace in disgust at the thought of Ron visiting Harry first as she jumped to her feet in a rush of wind.

            "Thank you, Professor," she said, trying to remain composed, but failing badly (Dumbledore's face was red with mirth and his beard was twitching more than ever), "May I leave?"

            "You may."

            Hermione ran to the door, wrenched it open, and looked down the corridor. She hadn't noticed that she had gone down this corridor when she went to speak with Dumbledore, as she was too nervous to notice where was going. In fact, she had been down this corridor many times, going to the infirmary to ask the matron if she and Ron could visit Harry. As she looked down it, she realized that where Harry was staying wasn't far, but only half a corridor away.

            The length of the corridor was exceedingly shorter than any other time Hermione had hurried to the end of it. She slowed down, only to get past a pack of young, staring Nockdernians, and soon came across the door with the familiar little gold sign reading 'infirmary'. With her hand on the knob, Hermione swallowed hard and opened the door.

            The smell of spotlessness and medical remedies that was only found in hospitals reached Hermione's nose and knocked some sense into her. The sudden amount of light that flooded the large room stung her eyes. At first, she squinted with her hand shielding her eyes, but looking around, it subsided. Several white-covered hospital beds stood lengthwise along the walls only ending where a desk and chair was. Bottles and bottles of shelved liquids and herbs hung along the walls and many contraptions Hermione had only seen in the infirmary at Hogwarts stood in the center of the square span.

            Then someone called for her at one of the beds.

            "Hermione! Over here!"

            It was coming from the very end of the room, and looking around, Hermione's eyes laid on a magnificent sight that she longed to see. Sitting at the very last hospital bed in the room was Harry, with Ron in a chair next to him. They were both smiled, gesturing her to come over.

            It was the moment Hermione anticipated for a long time. She hurried over to them, remembering that Ron knew more than necessary and that she shouldn't make it worse. She reached them… but she couldn't help herself. With a wail of happiness, she collapsed at Harry and wrapped him into an enormous hug.

            "Harry!" said gasped, not realizing she was in the direction of  'going over your head', "Dumbledore showed me the article in today's paper and… oh, Harry…you're better!"

            "Whoa, wait a minute here," said Ron, "Didn't I tell you not to get all emotional around me?"

            But Hermione, not fully aware what he was talking about, realized that Harry's chest shook with laughter as he hugged her back, "I missed you too, Hermione."

            Hermione never wanted to let go of Harry, but with Ron grimacing as though discovering that Hagrid had snuck another dragon egg into his hut, she decided against it. Instead, Harry guided her at the end of his bed to sit down.

            "Ron told me you'd get upset," Harry told Hermione, who kept her face in her hands, "Sorry if I scared you."

            Hermione was finally able to dry her eyes with the back of her hand without collapsing into tears. Raising her head to look at him, she realized the way Madam Marmalade described Harry was perfectly correct. It was as though nothing had happened to him at all; most of his bloody cuts and gashes had disappeared, accept for a few on his cheeks and neck that were barely noticeable. The only evidence of what happened was a bandage binding on his left hand that extended halfway up his arm. Hermione's lips curled into a small smile; he looked so familiar.

            "Ron says a lot of things," she said, "It's not your fault."

            Hermione could feel Harry's eyes penetrating the side of her head. She was even aware of his smile.

            "Don't forget that I'm here!" said Ron loudly, "And don't talk about me that way," he snapped at Hermione.

            "So," said Harry, changing the subject, "what did you get yourselves into?"

            Hermione looked up from her lap at Ron, who frowned, looking very uneasy. "Uh… we got a detention," he muttered, "Just yesterday."

            Harry's mouth fell open, "What for?"

            Hermione looked around to see if anyone was listening or if the matron was nearby. There was no one, so she leaned in and told him, "We went to see Sirius in the north tower. The only problem was that Malfoy was there when we were trying to leave-"

            "Yeah," said Ron, his face breaking into an enormous grin, "Sirius set his robes on fire when he went to see who we were talking to. He fell all the way down the stairs!"

            "Then Dumbledore and Snape caught us," Hermione interrupted him furiously, "It's better than getting expelled. That's what Snape wanted, wasn't it?"

            "Leave him to the punishment," growled Ron, "And Malfoy has a detention too! If I have to scrub trophies again… with him…"

            "Harry," said Hermione suddenly, remembering something that she meant to ask him, "Does it seem to you that Dumbledore has been kind of… under the weather?"

            "I dunno," answered Harry, shrugging, "I didn't talk to him for long. I only saw him yesterday night when he visited me with Sirius. He seemed fine to me."

            Hermione raised her eyebrows in thought. She supposed she'd expect an answer like that; Dumbledore did seem very kind when she was speaking with her a half an hour ago. She was just too nervous to remember that he was in such a bad mood the other times she'd seen him.

            "Maybe he ate bad broccoli," suggested Ron, "That happened to me once."

            Harry laughed again, but Ron didn't find anything funny.

            "And Silversmith," said Hermione, not wanting to leave the topic, "Have you seen much of him recently?"

            Harry nodded grimly, "He owled me this." He leaned over and reached under the bed. Finding what he was looking for, he straightened up and held out a large wrapped basket of fruit and incredibly bright flowers of red, yellow and pink. Ron burst into another fit of laughter.

            "I suppose he's got a thing with bright colours," said Harry thoughtfully, putting it back, "It said in a note that came with it that he knew I'd win the tournament. I dunno how he thought that… he wasn't even there."

            The colour drained from Hermione's face. She had completely forgotten about the places of the champions in the tournament.

"What?" she said, "You won as in… you were first?"

            Harry nodded slowly, "Yes. Why, didn't you know?"

            "NO!" said Hermione loudly, torn between her foolishness and excitement, "I forgot all about the Tournament. I was too worried about you!"

            "Oh, that's a laugh!" said Ron sarcastically, "First you leave him completely alone at the ball for no reason when he was nice enough to ask you to be his partner, then you ignore him for days after! Now you said that you forgot about the Tournament because you were worried about him?" he stared at her as if she were mad, "What's wrong with you?"

            "Shut up, Ron," Harry interrupted him.

            Ron folded his arms, his eyes narrowed at Hermione, who was staring at her hands in her lap.

            "D'you mind if we speak alone?" Harry said to Ron after a minute of silence, "Just for a few minutes."

            "I don't mind… but I'm sure you will," said Ron testily, getting to his feet.

            He left the infirmary in a huff. Suddenly Hermione wished that he hadn't left, no matter how immature he was acting. She really didn't want to talk to Harry alone, being that she knew what he'd ask. It was just another awkward moment that Hermione wished that she could sit out.

            "Why so interested in Silversmith all of a sudden?" Harry asked Hermione quietly.

"I haven't seen him in ages," answered Hermione, glad that his first question wasn't embarrassing, "Sirius hasn't heard of him at all."

"He told me Dumbledore wasn't happy with him," said Harry, "Maybe you'll see him at tonight's feast. I reckon he'll be there."

Silence again. Hermione's heart was racing and she felt like her stomach wasn't there at all. She supposed Harry was avoiding the topic because he didn't know what to ask her. He had been in the infirmary for more than she ever knew anyone could, after all. Hermione gulped, began to speak.

            "Harry," she started, "I'm really sorry I ignored you" she sighed, "Ron's right. It was very foolish of me."

            She didn't look at him, but Hermione knew Harry was listening, staring at his bed sheets.

            "You weren't foolish, just… I dunno," said Harry, "You were caught up in everything, I guess."

            "Harry, you've got more important things going on than I do," said Hermione, glancing at him, "You've got Sirius and the silly tournament… then there's You-Know-Who!"

            Harry looked up at her, apparently surprised she'd say something like that.

            "He's after you. Everything's all spoiled for you ever since you started school and it's not getting any better," even Hermione was taken aback at what she was saying, "But really… you're only fifteen. You've only been at Hogwarts for five years. And still…"

            She faded off. Truthfully, what she was saying was being processed at that very moment, like she was realizing it for the first time. And it scared her that everything she understood now was real. Harry had a lot on his shoulders; the Dark Lord was after Harry and he had no parents… it was all true. She felt prickles in the corner of her eyes.

            "Harry," she said, turning her head to look at him, "This is the longest time you've spent in a hospital bed… almost two weeks. You've never been ill for that long," she swallowed, very much aware of Harry's green eyes looking into hers, "It… it seems like every time you get hurt, you stay here for longer. But… what if you get hurt really badly?"

            "What are you saying?" Harry asked her, his voice very quiet.

            Hermione swallowed hard. "You might think it's mad," admitted Hermione, "But what if… what if you were to never come out of here? What if you get hurt so badly you get sent to your realities? Or… not even that."

            Hermione sniffed and looked away. The tears in the corner of her eyes were threatening to leak out and her voice was trembling. Apparently, Harry noticed.

            "Hermione," he sighed, "I know what you're talking about. I feel the same way, really."

            Hermione laid back, her head resting on the soft blankets. She covered her eyes with her arms as if to shield the light. They were lapsed into silence again, but Hermione seemed to enjoy it this time around. She thought that she was imagining it, or even hoping, but she felt something consoling in her hair. It was soft and she couldn't really feel it, but it warmed her insides like she couldn't believe. Then after one or two minutes, she realized that it was Harry's touch that was comforting her. He was running his fingers through her hair, wrapping the stands between his fingers. And even though her eyes were closed, she could sense his eyes watching her.

            "It just scares me," Hermione muttered.

            "I don't want to leave, you know. And I certainly don't want to go to my relatives when I should be at Hogwarts. Summers enough with them," said Harry, "But really, Hermione… d'you really think that'll happen to me?"

            Hermione didn't answer. She knew what to say, but even if it ashamed her to admit it, she did know that there was a chance that Harry wouldn't make it out of Hogwarts. It was a horrible thought. She hoped that Harry understood.

            "You and Ron are my first friends that I've ever had," said Harry, breaking Hermione's thoughts, "and if you do get hurt, it'll be my fault."

            "Harry, that's not true," said Hermione, sounding abashed, "You've saved our lives! I'm not going to risk anything and not be your friend," she opened her eyes and looked up at him, "I don't fight with you like Ron and I didn't have any friends in my old muggle school. So really… you're my first friend too," she smiled slightly, "You haven't called me any names, either."

            Harry looked down at her with a smile that looked so brilliant. At once, Hermione remembered Harry's gift with his photographic self and how much he looked so similar to it when he smiled. The sparkling eyes, the messy hair, the small laugh afterwards… Harry's gift!

            She suddenly sat up and still sitting on Harry's bed, turned to face him and reached inside her robes to pull out the delicately wrapped gold box.

            "This is your Christmas present," she said, handing it to Harry, "It was sitting at the bottom of my trunk for a long time because I thought I could visit you earlier."

            Harry carefully took it and put it on his knee to open it. He untied the ribbon, opened the box and peeled back the gold paper. His eyes went wide.

            "Hermione," he said, lifting it up, "Where'd you get this?"

            "Colin gave it to me. Don't worry - he has plenty others."

            Harry stared long and hard at the photo, watching the little photographic people wave at him. He traced the signatures at the bottom with his fingertips in awe.

"Herm – thanks," he said, "I haven't gotten a gift like this before." He reached under his pillow and pulled out something from behind him.

            "I've been holding onto this for a while now so I can give it to you in person… since we haven't spoken," he said quietly. Hermione stared at his hand, where sitting on it was a small, long, old-looking red velvet box that looked well worn. He handed it to her, and Hermione, her mouth open slightly, took it.

            "Open it," Harry said.

            So Hermione did, and found what was undoubtedly something she wouldn't have expected.

            Inside was a gorgeous antique necklace with an emerald pendant on a shimmering gold chain. Hermione, her mouth gapping with speechlessness, removed the small fasteners that held the necklace into place as carefully as she could. She lifted it into the air. The light coming from the window made it sparkle elegantly.

            "Harry," Hermione breathed, her eyes still on the necklace, "I-I couldn't possibly except this. It must have cost you a fortune!"

            "Herm, don't worry about that! It's your Christmas present," he grinned, "And if you don't accept it, I wont speak to you until our seventh year." He took it from Hermione, who was absentmindedly gawking at him, the necklace still dangling between her fingers, and unhinged the small clasp. He reached out and put both arms on either side of her neck. With a small click, he leaned back again.

            "It looks beautiful on you," Harry said kindly.

            Hermione was somewhat put in a sudden stupor, for she finally realized that that the necklace – her necklace – was around her neck. She looked down at it and squealed.

            "Thank you so much, Harry!" She leapt at him and hugged him as tight as she could. Then she kissed him on the cheek.

"You're a great friend, Harry," said Hermione, her chin on his shoulder, "I just wish you'd realized that."

"You have no idea."

Hermione left the infirmary a few minutes later once she had bid her goodbyes and wished him well, twirling her beautiful new necklace between her fingers. She knew it would become her newest habit, playing with the chain and staring at it as if nothing else mattered. But she really didn't want to leave Harry. It came to realization that she could have told him that she liked him as more than a friend, but the opportunity came and went. The time was getting close when another opportunity would come… she could feel it.

…~'*'~…

A/N: Ah, jeez. My head is swelling with ideas for another fic! I can't stand it! I've been jotting down some ideas and… all I can say that it'll be great, and once this story is finished… *ahem* Anyways… did you like it? Oh… but just wait until the next fic! It'll be as action-packed as chapter 8, which everyone seemed to like. And… you will never guess… I'm working on Harry Potter art right now; a picture of Tisroc, Maindernia and Harry… I've only just finished Whin (and he looks REALLY good lookin!). I'll post a link to it as soon as I get it finished.

I'm supposed to go up north to Killbear Park in 9 days (8 hour drive!)... ah, I can smell Georgian Bay now… and all the chipmunks and bears… what a beautiful park… sorry, got carried away. But get this: my dad's gonna bring the laptop with him. Wow, that's roughing, it! ChOw! (note: check out my Hogwart's Yearbook fic… It's hilarious!)