Hermione was amazed by Harry's agility in his room. After materializing a stove, table and various pots and dishes, he went into his closet and came out with all the ingredients. She marveled as he bounced efficiently around his room, cooking their meal. Slowly, the smell of the sauce wafted to her senses, and she became drawn to the stove. She stood and silently made her way over, still trying to accept the fact that it smelled like Harry knew what he was doing, but one could never be sure. She was standing behind him, watching his actions as he hummed softly. The pink sauce sent fumes of ecstasy into the air, and she sighed contentedly.

                Harry turned to see her smiling face, and grinned.

                "Wait until you taste it." She became eager for him to finish. The smell was torture enough. She saw he was doing other things as well. He was making a salad, and had just close the oven after putting something in it. The thought actually hit her that it was peculiar to have a makeshift kitchen in one's bedroom, but the again, magic in itself was peculiar. Harry turned to her, sending her his trademark grin.

                "It'll be done in five minutes. Do you want anything else?"

                "No, it smells awfully good. How long have you been cooking?"

                "About three weeks. It is good fun, especially when you can do it well." He motioned for her to sit at a table, that had appeared with two matching chairs and a blue tablecloth. She did so, and Harry returned to the food. It was becoming unbearable, but very shortly, he returned with the salad. She was ready to dig in, but knew it was rude when he was still working on the food. He muttered the warming spell at the stove and oven, and went back into the closet. She could only imagine what he had in there. He returned with a bottle of sorts, and she remembered the joke she said when he asked her what she wanted for dinner.

                "I was kidding about the wine, Harry."

                "I know, but I have a few good ones."

                "It's illegal! And dangerous."

                "Don't worry about it. We won't drink much, and no one will know about it. I promise that neither of us will get drunk."

                "Harry, I don't feel comfortable drinking alcohol." He poured a very little amount in a wine glass and handed it to her.

                "Just try it." She ventured to sip it, and it took all of her control not to spray it out.

                "Eck, it's so bitter!" He nodded understandingly, and put the cork back in.

                "Don't worry, I have just the thing." He turned and went back into the closet as she was tortured by her untouched salad. After a minute, he returned with another bottle, this one a little bigger. He wordlessly poured another small drop into her glass, and she sipped it. It wasn't nearly as bitter as the other one. This one was actually very sweet, and it wasn't bad. The bitterness wasn't as strong, and it tasted good.

                "How is it?"

                "I like this one. It isn't as sour." He smiled.

                "I thought you would like this one. Shall we begin?" She shot him a questioning look, and he nodded at the salad. She smiled, perhaps too far, and he sat across from her. They began silently, but the conversation started soon enough. She liked the vinaigrette and made sure he knew so. He said he got it out of one of his Aunt's old magazines, and promised to give her the recipe. They finished their salads, and she went back into her thoughts as he busied himself at the stove again. He returned, bearing a large portion of the pasta, and the fragrance engulfed her. She dug in immediately, and he followed suit. In not time, they were done, full to the brim and happy about it, but her thoughts returned, and he noticed the trouble look on her face.

                "What's wrong?"

                "Nothing really, I'm just trying to figure out the reason why there are questions about men stealing purses in your Animagus book."

                "Oh, well, you can't just become an Animagus, you have to know what animal you're similar to, in traits. I have to answer those three thousand questions to find out my animal, and so it takes a long time. I've been working on it for weeks. That reminds me, I honestly, really love this thing." He flicked his wrist and his wand appeared in his hand. "It is really great. You have no idea." She smiled at his praises, and couldn't hide a blush.

                "You would say that even if you don't like it." He smiled.

                "Probably, but the fact that I do like is what matters. What would you like for dessert?"

                "Um, what do you have." His evil smirk told her enough. "Never mind, let's see. Actually, I'm finished, Harry. I don't think I could. The penne was superb, really. But it was filling."

                "Uh uh. No you don't You have to try my newest invention." She groaned. "Don't worry, it's good, I think. I have created a Chocolate Butterscotch Cheesecake, and I need someone to try it."

                "I'm so honored" she said sarcastically.

                "Hey! I don't let just anyone get a first taste of my creations."

                "I can't eat it. I'm done."

                "Just a taste. One bite. Please? Just try it."

                "Fine." She mumbled as she reclined in the chair. His cooking rivaled that of the house-elves, and she couldn't say no to him. Ever. He jumped up and sprinted again, into the closet, and returned carrying two small dishes, each with a good sized slice of a brownish, tanish looking cheesecake. "I heard you say only a taste."

                "Just take a taste then."

                "Honestly Harry, Is it any good?"

                "We're both about to find out."

                "You haven't tried it yet?"

                "Nope. It'll be an adventure. Don't you trust me?" He gave her a genuine insulted look. She picked up her fork, and took a small bit of the soft and creamy looking cake onto the utensil. He followed her, and they both held them in front of their faces.

                "You first, and you have to tell me how it is."

                "But…"

                "No buts, go on." She groaned and turned her gaze back to the suspicious article. She brought it under her nose and smelled it. It smelled good. Chocolaty and sweet, and creamy. It quelled her fears and she placed the fork in her mouth, and touched the cake with her tongue. Her mouth started singing in praise. It was everything a desert should be; sweet, creamy, soft, moist, and chocolaty with a distinct flavor of butterscotch. She pulled the fork out of her mouth, and pushed the cake around with her tongue, savoring it. She closed her eyes and allowed them to roll back in pleasure. She had never tasted anything like it. It was simply unbelievable good.

                "Well?" His words snapped her back into reality. She reluctantly swallowed, enjoying it so much.

                "It's incredible, Harry how did you ever make this?" She quickly took a large amount and shoved it greedily into her mouth.

                "I took the recipe for chocolate cheesecake, and made some modifications. A touch more sugar, a decent amount of caramelized butterscotch candies, some buttermilk. I was hoping it would work."

                "It'ph wunnerphul" she said through another mouthful. He soon after tasted it himself, and he looked at it in shock.

                "It really is good! Oh, I should send Mrs. Weasley the recipe. I didn't know if it would be edible, but this. This is…"

                "Perfect." He smiled appreciatively at her.

                "And I thought you were just being polite." She rolled her eyes and wolfed down another bite. Five minutes later Harry finished his slice, and looked up to see her throwing her best begging face at him.

                "Is there any left?"

                "Maybe."

                "Can I have another slice, please?" He chuckled warmly.

                "Coming from someone too full to eat one slice, I don't know."

                "Don't tease Harry, I asked you nicely."

                "I'll tell you what. I'll give you half the cake to take home with you, so your parent can try it too. But I think you've had enough. Ron would never forgive me if I got you fat over the summer?"

                "What's that supposed to mean? And my parents wouldn't touch it. They'd say it's poisonous with all the sugar."

                "If you don't know, then I won't tell you."

                "Fine. Be a prat. Pass the wine." He looked at her oddly.

                "Hermione, as pleased as I am to introduce you to wine, this is your first time and you already had two glasses. I don't want to get you pissed, as humorous as Ron and I would find it. You still need to apperate home tonight."

                "I'm not at all drunk" she stated firmly, appalled by the idea, but then she thought about it. Her vision wasn't as clear as it could be, and she was a tad bit dizzy. But it was only two glasses of wine, that wasn't much.

                "Fine. But I still don't want you to go down that road. I could chug the bottle and not be affected, you wouldn't get passed your fifth glass without passing out or throwing up."

                "What do you know about drinking?" she snarled, angry at his assumptions. He stood sharply, and went to his bookcase. He took down a relatively thin book and tossed it to her.

                "Welcome to the world of the learned drinker." She flipped the book over and read the title. Alcohol and Magic: Do They mix? She sighed.

                "You're crazy."

                "I can accept that as long as I'm not stupid. Do you remember Darius the Drunk, from History of Magic?"

                "Yeah, he was the best Auror and Dueling Champion in the 1700's. Why?

                "Do you know why he was so successful?" He was going to lecture her? She laughed at the thought.

                "Of course. He began training at age eight and by twenty was considered one of the most…"

                "Wrong. Never trust history books. They're biased and cover up dangerous truths."

                "How can you…"

                "Let me finish. He wasn't very powerful at all. Some people could maintain a grip on their wand when he sent disarming curses at them. He was as squib-like as possible without being one, but he discovered a little known fact. In the muggle world, men and women are effected differently. Generally women can drink more unless men build up a tolerance. In the magical world it's very different. Alcohol has the same effect on witches that it does on muggle women. Wizards, it's different. They don't know why, but the testosterone in men's bodies reacts with their magic and the alcohol to multiply the production of magic. It is a quick way to get a temporary magic boost if you're a wizard. Darius the Drunk would guzzle quarts of whiskey before dueling or otherwise. That is the only reason he could produce a decent hex, mind you."

                "So, you drink to become more powerful?"

                "No, I, I, I am not fully grown, so I can take more than muggle men, but I still get pissed with enough of it. It took dear old Darius one and a half gallons to become a touch drunk, and he usually couldn't drink his stomach that far.  I think I could take a pint of hard liquor, more of wine or beer. But, I resist. I just want it to ease the pain." She looked at him skeptically. "If you don't believe me, read the bloody book." His harsh words and cold glare made her shiver. He seemed to realize what he just did, and his face softened. "Sorry, I…didn't mean to snap at you." She took a moment to recover.

                "It's alright Harry, I don't blame you. I know this is a hard time for you, and, and I want you to know I respect your privacy and all that, but I want to make sure your alright. I'm your friend and I care about you. I'll always be here to help you." He smiled at her, and it wasn't hard to tell that it was faked. The blankness in his eyes was too apparent.

                "I know, and I appreciate it." Her curiosity got the best of her, and she opened the book and started reading. She glanced up to see him return to writing in the Animagus book. He was very moody, and she was feeling a bit silly. She kept reading, not processing any of it, glancing at him every five minutes to make sure he was alright. Finally he called her name, and she looked up at him. She never noticed the silence of the house until then.

                "Hermione, it's almost ten thirty. Won't your parents be worried that your not home?"

                "They are spending the night in London, and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon, so I'll be fine."

                "You should probably go back soon anyway. It's getting late." She saw him glance worriedly at the clock. Again and again his eyes wandered to it.

                "I'm too dizzy to apperate home. You don't mind if I spend the night, do you?" She realized what this sounded like only after she said it. She knew that had she been more conscious, she would have been able to catch herself.

                "Um, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I have some er, things to do, a little later, and it would probably be best if you weren't here." She began to realize what this was about.

                "Does having a girl sleeping in your room make you uncomfortable?" A sudden flash reflected in his eyes.

                "Yes, you sleeping here makes me uncomfortable." His lie was obvious. He reacted too quickly. He even repeated the question in the answer.

                "Harry, tell me what's going on."

                "I just told you that you make me uncomfortable…while sleeping."

                "That can't be it, because we wouldn't do anything." She sighed.

                "Is this about your attacks?" He looked at his shelves.

                "No…"

                "Harry! I have been there before. I was there less than a week ago. I've seen you go into them before and remained there when you awoke. And you're embarrassed about it? Why would it shame you. It isn't your fault that you're cursed with them. You just gave me a perfectly good reason to stay."

                "Hermione, please, just go. I don't want you here."

                "I'm not leaving. It is better this way."

                "Dammit! You make it sound like we're married!" he growled.

                "Would that be such a bad thing!?!?!?" She yelled back before she could stop herself. She immediately cursed alcohol under her breath. "Maybe if we were married you wouldn't be such an annoying and noble git and you would admit that you have problems that others like myself and Ron could help you with." She smiled inwardly at her cleverness, maintaining a glare. His confused face returned to it's sagging blotchy self.

                "Why do you have to make my life more difficult?" he said in barely a whisper.

                "You have to learn that you can't take the easy way out." He laughed coldly.

                "When have I ever taken the easy road."

                "Never to my knowledge, but if you start now, then there's no turning back." He had to admit, she had a point. She could see it in his face. He was defeated, but still fighting (sense?).

                "Can't you just come back tomorrow to check on me."

                "I already told you. I had too much wine to go home, so I need to stay here anyway. I promise you won't regret it. I promise Harry." Somehow she had managed to walk around the room to sit next to him on a sofa along one of the walls. She slowly wrapped her arms around him, and embraced him softly, before quickly letting go. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

                "That's not what I'm worried about…"

                "I know, I know." He watched her expectantly, but he had lost this argument, and they waited in silence. Harry went back to his book, and Hermione continued to read the book on drinking. She figured it was interesting, but she couldn't focus. A sense of foreboding crept into the air. The time ticked by slowly, and at eleven, two quiet beeps announced the beginning of a new hour. Shortly afterwards, Harry stood and walked quickly to his desk chair, and secured his legs and arms. She got up and grabbed a towel as he frowned at her before closing his eyes.

                It was horrible for her. Harry began to spasm, fighting against the braces that held his body to securely to his chair. His scar burst open, spraying the air with his blood before letting it trickle down his face. She stood, frozen next to him as she watched him suffer. She wanted to wipe the blood away, make him open his eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Tears began to fall down her face, and the blood made its way down his neck, and into his shirt. She had seen blood before, but never like this. It flowed quickly and heavily, coating his face, seeping into his eyes, masking his nose, accenting his lips. She lost track of time until his body fell limp. She jumped at cleaning his face, trying vainly to wipe the crimson fluid away. He groaned, but she continued, letting the towel absorb as much blood as possible. She felt like throwing up, but Harry was more important. He opened his eyes and slowly released himself from the leather straps, watching her face as she used a dry part of the towel to get more of the blood. He put his hand on her own, and she looked down at him. He twitched the corners of his mouth and nodded. He knew what she had seen, and what she had done. He acknowledged her effort and care, and showed his appreciation for it, all in one look.

                He stood and stumbled into the hallway, and then the bathroom. She heard the faucet go on for a few seconds, and then get twisted off. He returned, his eyes bloodshot, more so than usual, and his body bent, as one would imagine a man who carries more than his weight. He returned to his seat and pulled out his wand, to clean his clothing of the blood, before the stains became too much for his primitive cleaning charms. They spent most of the rest of the evening and early morning in silence. He went back to reading and answering questions, and she pretended to read while watching him. He knew she was watching, waiting for something, but he had nothing to say. He inconspicuously paged Dumbledore and informed him of the most recent developments, but he didn't speak aloud, just projecting the words mentally as not to attract the attention of Hermione. She kept forcing herself awake every time her eyelids became heavy, and marveled at his lack of sleepiness. Of course she knew he had gotten used to it, but this was uncanny. She noticed that the lights had gone out, all but the one behind her. She didn't realize they were so subtle, slowly dimming until darkness fell.

                She once again looked up at him and saw him laying on his bed, asleep. Silently she approached him. His brow was furrowed and sweaty, his body shivering. He was in pain. It was too clearly written on his face. Sleep was painful. Now that he was asleep, she could take a good long look at his room. She searched through it, looking for something, anything to tell her Harry was just as carefree, just as happy, and just as alive. As she began to stumble in her exhaustion, she looked at the clock. 4:19. She looked around for a place to lay down. There was the floor and his bed, which, she couldn't help but notice, was not as small as it was. It was actually sort of big for Harry's small body. She wondered when he would begin to grow, get hairy, all that. He really was short. It seemed every time she saw him he was shorter. It was only too clear that she was miraculously still growing, but it was unnerving. Calmly she strode up to his bed, and looked down on his face. What she would give to take his pain away.

                She didn't want to take this the wrong way, so she slid onto the mattress at the very end, and tried to relax. As soon as she did so she felt herself begin to roll of. She tried again, and almost rolled off. Too tired to compete, she slid her body up against his, a few inches from the edge, and let her eyes close. She felt the quivering of the bed slow, and his breathing calm. He shifted his weight throwing his arm around her. She froze, not knowing what to do. She could toss his arm back like the friend that she was, or she could let it be, and just enjoy the night she knew she would never have again. She pressed her body against him, letting his body know she was there, but he didn't react, and slowly, and happily, she fell asleep.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Hermione woke up to a bright room. The light dazzled her eyes, and she hid her face while groaning. Slowly she looked the other way, and noticed it must be pretty late in the morning. She was still relatively tired, but as her eyes adjusted, she could begin to smell the fumes of bacon and eggs wafting in her direction. No, she could see the fumes wafting in her direction, and she glanced at her watch. 10:53. It WAS late. She followed the billowing steam with her blurry vision, until it rested on the stove that was used the night before. Next to the stove was a teen with black hair and dull green eyes swishing a wand continually, with a silly smirk on his face. She saw he was watching her, and his grin grew wider.

                "Come on, sleepyhead. The day started a while ago." She groaned aloud in response, and buried her head in the pillow. "Let's go."

                "Shut up and let me sleep."

                "Not a morning person are we. Fine sleep away." She smiled. A few more hours of peace until she would have to face him. He would inevitably be curious why she had ended up sleeping next to him, if she only knew it was more like on top of him. It made him very awkward when he got up, but he managed to slip out from under her unnoticed, and didn't plan to discuss it. The smell of the bacon was dragging her out of her dozing state. The eggs as well. She could hear them frying, and she wanted to eat. She was hungry, and noticed she had a slight headache. Harry was right about limiting her wine intake. She probably would have given herself to him, and there was no telling how he would have reacted. She cringed to think about it. But that was exactly her problem. She thought too much, which was also why she couldn't sleep at this very minute. Her brain was awake, and it refused to be eased into sleep. Accepting defeat was hard for her body, but she grumpily sat up.

                "What's for breakfast?" she yawned, as Harry chuckled. He was still sending the wondrous smell at her nose. "Do you have any idea how annoying that is?"

                "Yes, it wakes me up every morning. It isn't harsh and it works every time. I would think that you'd enjoy it."

                "I would if I actually wanted to get up." He was laughing at her, and she was too tired to care why, but she made her way over to the table and sat down. She looked at the glass in front of her, and smelled the contents. It smelled fruity, but she knew never to risk anything in the wizarding world. "What's this?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling a little bit.

                "Oh. That is milk, strawberries, blueberries, bananas, raspberries, apples, pears, grapes all mixed together into a thick puree. It's really quite good." She looked at him doubtfully. "You didn't think you'd like my cheesecake either." She wanted to reply to that but was too tired to think of anything. She took a sip and washed it around her mouth with her tongue. It wasn't bad actually. It was very thick, almost like a yogurt, but it was sweet and smooth. She could distinctly taste a bunch of the fruits he named, and she felt it coat her entire throat in its creaminess.

                "So…"

                "Hm?"

                "How is it? Do you like it?"

                "It's sweet and creamy. I thought it would be more juicy, but it's alright."

                "That there is almost as good as a meal. It's got a ton of calories. A few glasses of it at each meal will get you fatter than a whale in three weeks. I only have on glass for breakfast. It helps me get started every day."

                "Some people just drink coffee."

                "I do that too, but I don't have a coffee maker and I'll be damned if I'm going to ask Petunia for a cup. All I got is my stove, my pantry, my refrigerator, my oven, and my blender."

                "I could see myself married to you." He froze and looked straight into her eyes. She looked away and felt the blood rush to her face. "No, nothing like that. I mean, you cook well, you appear to be organized, and neat, and you work to pay your own way. You're an independent person, and I like that trait in a man." She just called him a man, but really he was. He was mature beyond his years, wise, maybe a bit short, at a mere 5'1", but he was his own person. The sadness still lingered in his face, even when he smiled. He was so experienced in life, she felt he experienced every emotion possible. Except for love.

                "Yeah, and if I married you, I could be sure to get all my paperwork done on time." He chuckled as she blew a raspberry at him. He kept on cooking and she looked at his Animagus book, which was sitting open on the table. 13654: You are trapped in a foreign country and need to get home across an ocean without having magical assistance. Which animal would you prefer to be? She scanned down to the circled answer. BB. African Swallow; You desire the inconspicuousness of your small shape, and the freedom given to you by flight. Also the intense speed provides a fast journey home to your loved ones, as well as a means of escape if danger is encountered. It really was like Harry to choose something like that. She preferred CH. Blue Whale; You enjoy your security in size, and your grace as you flow swiftly and fluently through the seas home. That or G. Sperm Whale; As one of the largest predators in the animal kingdom, you feel the power and dominance as you patrol the seas. You dive deeply, holding your breath for hours as you scour the oceans bottom, fully enjoying you trip home. You know that you will not be challenged, for your size instills fear in almost all ocean life. She read a few random ones, and saw the numerous answers, all the way from A. to FB. It was a lot to choose from, and she supposed he chose honestly.

                "Harry?"

                "Yes?"

                "Does this book…" he glanced over his shoulder at it and nodded "… tell you what you have a good chance of becoming as you move along?"

                "In a way, yes, but it is still vague."

                "What has it said about you so far?"

                "Um, well. There's a good chance I'll become a member of the large cat or dog family. I may become a creature of the air, because I seem to like the feeling of flying. It also has told me a few interesting things."

                "Like?"

                "I'm not really comfortable talking about it. It has to do with what Voldemort did to me, when he fell."

                "Go on."

                "I just said I wasn't comfortable."

                "Be a man. You're being silly. Don't you trust me?" She was becoming flustered.

                "With my life, but this……it's confusing to me. It sorta has to do with the Sorting Hat saying I would be great in Slytherin."

                "What do you mean?"

                "Well, do you know in rare cases, some people can have more than one Animagus forms." She smiled knowingly.

                "I like the way you said 'more than one' instead of just two, very subtle there." He managed a weak smile.

                "Anyway, the book told me that I have been, not contradicting myself on the questions, but not being entirely consistent, so I have a sixty percent chance of having two or more Animagus forms. Like a forty percent chance of having three or more. Thirty percent chance of four or more, and so on and so forth."

                "But...isn't that a good thing?"

                "I would just like to be normal for once. Who knows, I may just be a stag and a Basilisk. It could be terrible. After I find out these forms, I am going to have to learn how to become them. That reminds me, I got a letter from Sirius."

                "Oooh, what did he say?"

                "It's weird, because my dad had two forms as well, though he only learned how to become a stag, he could have also become, become, a, a, a…"

                "A, a, a,…" she mocked good-naturedly.

                "A wolf. Similarly to Profes…Remus, but an Animagus Wolf, sane even without the potion. But he didn't think it was necessary, that it was too much work to become a second form. That was rare, because usually the forms are similar. Like two different breeds of dog, or two different types of bird. My dad never even told Moony or Wormtail about it." She smiled at him, as he placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. She tasted it, but no suspicion was justified and she ate happily as he joined her at the table.

                "So, how's your summer homework?" She said after swallowing.

                "I finished a while ago, I thought I told you that. I bet you finished yours already."

                "Not yet. The transfiguration is imposs…difficult, with the limited books that I have. I really should visit you at work, it would probably help a great deal."

                "Come by sometime, but you probably won't recognize me, I'll have brown hair and eyes and no scar to stare at. I like the look a tad bit better."

                "I think you look fine just the way you are." She shut her mouth and became very interested in her bacon. He hesitantly repeated the words in his head. He put it next to the way he woke, with her body mostly on top of him. The kiss she gave him at the Kings Cross Station at the end of the year. Everything became so clear. So scary. Sure, he liked her, he had a crush, and that was fine. But she couldn't like him. He would forbid it if it was possible. It made his life so much more complicated. If she had feelings for him, how was he to hide his own, how would Ron react? What would Skeeter say? I told you so, I knew it all along. Krum. Krum would call Harry a liar, and Hermione a slut. Ginny would despise Hermione, and Hermione would become a prime Voldemort target. It was too much to risk for a chance at an unlikely relationship. It wasn't worth it, but he had to know her feelings. He had to know how much she felt.

                "Hermione…" he said slowly, not wanting to have the words get jumbled in his frustration, his idiocy, and his anxiety, "is there something you want to tell me? To talk about?"

Too many Names!!! How can I thank all of you. There are just too many to mention. You know who you are, and I am so happy you reviewed. Anyone, just ask me, and I will read and review your stuff too. I am a firm believer in returning the favor. Thank you all, and review again, but you won't if you don' want to, I understand that, but I need to know where to take this. Your opinions are important to me, and my fic will be shaped as much as possible to contour to your wants. One thing that I won't change thought is the speed of the H/Hr relationship, because it would ruin the entire plot if they got together now. It will be a ways down the road. Tell what you want anyway, and I'll do my best to deliver on-time, unlike those bloody dominoes delivery people. 1 and a half hours late!!!! Oh sorry about the lateness, but I am currently studying for and taking multiple AP exams (college course exams in high school for you foreigners of the US) and I have been very busy. I hope to get the next chapter out in four days, but to be realistic, I'm going to say a week. Thank you all and happy reading.