The Prisoner of Azkaban
Magical Creatures Class
Bloody hell...
I have to remind myself that Hermione's cat tried to devour Scabbers on multiple occasions and she had done nothing but defend it. I don't care if Crookshanks is a cat. Shouldn't he be domesticated enough to not think other pets are a meal?
I remind myself that I am still mad at her. That we are still fighting. That I should be annoyed with her beyond reason. But...
She touched me!
She's hugged Harry on several occasions, but usually our physical interaction is no more than a high-five and that is usually after some extremely dangerous situation has been resolved. Like last year when she was petrified. Even then, I couldn't quite place the unease on her face after our hands met for the briefest of moments.
But this was different.
I was trying my best to ignore her. Paying attention to Hagrid as he showed us creatures that would easily kill us. But, I needed to be near her. As angry as I was, I couldn't stop my instinct to protect her. Not after what happened last year. Seeing her in the infirmary... it will never happen again, if I can stop it.
So there we stood, transfixed on Harry being precariously close to losing his hand... or worse. The hippogriff snapped at Harry and made us both take a step back, but her hand wrapped around my arm as she did.
Warm and gentle, with slender fingers, reminding me that she was developing into a young woman rather than the frizzy-haired know-it-all I had met on the train to Hogwarts two years ago.
Electricity shot from where she touched me and my eyes immediately sought where we were joined as though my brain needed confirmation that this was actually happening and it wasn't just a dream.
Not a dream. Whether she had reached out because she was startled or because she was trying to make sure I didn't get snapped at as well, I couldn't tell. But either way it meant something, right? It meant she can draw courage from me and trust me with her protection. It meant she cares enough to worry about me. Right?
My eyes searched for another confirmation as I looked to her face to find her reasoning. If she gave me any indication that she saw me as anything more than a friend... or the nuisance she had seen me as in our first year, I don't know what I would do. That door had been closed for so long that I had been able to ignore how she was changing; a delicate transformation into womanhood that took her from awkward child to beautiful. But it was becoming harder each day to pretend I wasn't aware of her. To pretend I wasn't drawn to being near her like my life was meaningless without her. To force myself to only write her one letter a week when we were home when the semester ended... and to not hold her letters, just starting at them, as though they were the most precious thing I owned.
Hermione's eyes dart to wear her hand is and then up to my face. Her eyes widen as our gazes meet and she promptly drops my arm and turns away with heat in her cheeks.
Was she embarrassed that she had grabbed me? That she was physically announcing that somewhere inside she had noticed me as well? Or was she simply embarrassed that she had shown weakness in front of our entire class? I wish I could turn her face back to me and read her. But... if she was noticing me. If she did want something other than friendship...
It took an enormous amount of effort to keep the smile from stretching across my face.
