A/N: Sorry I'm having a LOT of trouble with the layout thing.. it doesn't
like me!
CHAPTER 2 DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no matter how much I wish they were. Don't sue me, I have nothing but my mind. And I need it. *** Harry and Hermione were out under the stars, strolling towards the Quidditch pitch. It was a beautiful night, clear and fairly warm with a light breeze. Harry had his hands over Hermione's eyes, and she giggled a lot. "Where are you taking me, Harry?" Harry resisted the urge to say something too suggestive right then, so he settled for, "We're almost there... just another minute." He dragged her through the players' room onto the field, right into the middle. "You're going to like this, Hermione." And he took his hands off her eyes. Hermione gasped. Everything was so dark, except for the stars, which glowed down upon them. The constellations were perfectly clear, twinkling and shimmering more than ever, for them. All for them. "Oh, Harry, it's.. amazing! It's beautiful!" "Not half as beautiful as you are," Harry replied. This seemed to make her shiver a little, so Harry wrapped his arms around her. He was about 2 inches taller than she was, so when she turned to look at him, he had to look down just a little, and the stars were reflected in her deep brown eyes. Harry's stomach did a bit of a flip at that stage, as he took in her slight vanilla scent, her long, wavy hair and smooth skin. She was so perfect. Hermione smiled shyly and showed a set of perfect, even white teeth. Her arms moved up and her hands joined behind his neck. His hands settled at the small of her back. And they stood like that for a few moments, gazing into each others' eyes (A/N: Awww) before Harry's head tilted to the left a little, and their faces moved closer and closer together, their lips just millimetres apart. He was going to kiss her, he wanted so much to connect and kiss her, and she wanted to kiss him right back. They were standing close, their lips brushing... *** *RRRRRRINGGGG!* Harry sat bolt upright in his bed, as though his pillow was on fire. He threw his alarm clock at the floor, which seemed to shut it up nicely. He climbed out ob bed, rushed into the bathroom and splashed cold water onto his face. What the hell was that? It was just a dream. But what a dream! Where had he got all those STUPID ideas of kissing his best friend? He most certainly didn't want to kiss her. Harry dried his face with a green hand-towel and scowled at himself in the mirror. His eyes travelled to the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. It must have been the scar, he reasoned. I bet it's just a side-effect, that you go around dreaming about kissing your best friend when it plays up. The same would happen to anyone else who had a scar like mine. But he couldn't shake the feeling that the scar wasn't the real cause. Ohh no,he thought suddenly. I'm going to see her tomorrow. What am I gunna say? It's not going to be the same. I'm not going to see her the same way. And she's going to find out. WHAT'S SHE GOING TO THINK OF ME NOW? She'll never talk to me again! Harry started compulsively splashing more water on his face, trying to calm himself down. He was going to have to work on being calm. He was sure Hermione wasn't going to be this stressed about seeing him. *** Hermione looked up from her Potions essay and her eyes set on a photo in a frame on her bedside table. It was a photo of her, Ron and Harry. Ron was pulling silly faces, she was laughing at him, and Harry was being Harry, smiling flirtatiously and batting his eyes. The photo had been taken by Colin during the past year at Hogwarts, and it always made her smile, not only to see Ron imitating a frog, but to see Harry being so... cute. Cute?!?! I just used 'Harry' and 'cute' in the same thought! Hermione was surprised, to say the least. She hadn't REALLY thought of Harry as cute before. Sure, his green eyes could make girls go all dreamy, his shiny black hair wasn't too bad either, and he had that little charming flair that not all guys have, but he was her best friend. They were just friends.
Hermione sighed, dropped her quill onto her perfectly neat desk and hopped (A/N: yes, hopped) to the kitchen, to put some bread in the toaster. She couldn't wait to see Harry again. And Ron, of course. She missed them so much. But something was different this time. She couldn't really put her finger on it. But she really wanted to get her hair fixed up a little before she went to the Burrow the next day... A/N: What do you think? I know the whole dream thing was a bit... short. And sorry about the "hopped" as it's not relevant to the story in any way. I was looking for a verb other than "walked" or "strolled" and I couldn't be bothered, so "hopped" it is! Ah well, there's more to come. Read and review, I want feedback before you see Chapter 3! ~Ange.
CHAPTER 2 DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no matter how much I wish they were. Don't sue me, I have nothing but my mind. And I need it. *** Harry and Hermione were out under the stars, strolling towards the Quidditch pitch. It was a beautiful night, clear and fairly warm with a light breeze. Harry had his hands over Hermione's eyes, and she giggled a lot. "Where are you taking me, Harry?" Harry resisted the urge to say something too suggestive right then, so he settled for, "We're almost there... just another minute." He dragged her through the players' room onto the field, right into the middle. "You're going to like this, Hermione." And he took his hands off her eyes. Hermione gasped. Everything was so dark, except for the stars, which glowed down upon them. The constellations were perfectly clear, twinkling and shimmering more than ever, for them. All for them. "Oh, Harry, it's.. amazing! It's beautiful!" "Not half as beautiful as you are," Harry replied. This seemed to make her shiver a little, so Harry wrapped his arms around her. He was about 2 inches taller than she was, so when she turned to look at him, he had to look down just a little, and the stars were reflected in her deep brown eyes. Harry's stomach did a bit of a flip at that stage, as he took in her slight vanilla scent, her long, wavy hair and smooth skin. She was so perfect. Hermione smiled shyly and showed a set of perfect, even white teeth. Her arms moved up and her hands joined behind his neck. His hands settled at the small of her back. And they stood like that for a few moments, gazing into each others' eyes (A/N: Awww) before Harry's head tilted to the left a little, and their faces moved closer and closer together, their lips just millimetres apart. He was going to kiss her, he wanted so much to connect and kiss her, and she wanted to kiss him right back. They were standing close, their lips brushing... *** *RRRRRRINGGGG!* Harry sat bolt upright in his bed, as though his pillow was on fire. He threw his alarm clock at the floor, which seemed to shut it up nicely. He climbed out ob bed, rushed into the bathroom and splashed cold water onto his face. What the hell was that? It was just a dream. But what a dream! Where had he got all those STUPID ideas of kissing his best friend? He most certainly didn't want to kiss her. Harry dried his face with a green hand-towel and scowled at himself in the mirror. His eyes travelled to the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. It must have been the scar, he reasoned. I bet it's just a side-effect, that you go around dreaming about kissing your best friend when it plays up. The same would happen to anyone else who had a scar like mine. But he couldn't shake the feeling that the scar wasn't the real cause. Ohh no,he thought suddenly. I'm going to see her tomorrow. What am I gunna say? It's not going to be the same. I'm not going to see her the same way. And she's going to find out. WHAT'S SHE GOING TO THINK OF ME NOW? She'll never talk to me again! Harry started compulsively splashing more water on his face, trying to calm himself down. He was going to have to work on being calm. He was sure Hermione wasn't going to be this stressed about seeing him. *** Hermione looked up from her Potions essay and her eyes set on a photo in a frame on her bedside table. It was a photo of her, Ron and Harry. Ron was pulling silly faces, she was laughing at him, and Harry was being Harry, smiling flirtatiously and batting his eyes. The photo had been taken by Colin during the past year at Hogwarts, and it always made her smile, not only to see Ron imitating a frog, but to see Harry being so... cute. Cute?!?! I just used 'Harry' and 'cute' in the same thought! Hermione was surprised, to say the least. She hadn't REALLY thought of Harry as cute before. Sure, his green eyes could make girls go all dreamy, his shiny black hair wasn't too bad either, and he had that little charming flair that not all guys have, but he was her best friend. They were just friends.
Hermione sighed, dropped her quill onto her perfectly neat desk and hopped (A/N: yes, hopped) to the kitchen, to put some bread in the toaster. She couldn't wait to see Harry again. And Ron, of course. She missed them so much. But something was different this time. She couldn't really put her finger on it. But she really wanted to get her hair fixed up a little before she went to the Burrow the next day... A/N: What do you think? I know the whole dream thing was a bit... short. And sorry about the "hopped" as it's not relevant to the story in any way. I was looking for a verb other than "walked" or "strolled" and I couldn't be bothered, so "hopped" it is! Ah well, there's more to come. Read and review, I want feedback before you see Chapter 3! ~Ange.