A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! I love you all! And now
school has started again, I'm hoping to be able to update as frequently as
I have been...but that may prove to be a little harder with year ten's
work. But I promise to try! * smiles *
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Harry's stomach was squirming, and his hands were sweating. This was going to be the most excruciating moment of his life so far, telling Hermione what he truly thought and wanted. At one point, he even thought about just running out of the room and avoiding this experience entirely. He felt the old Harry coming back, the one who would avoid all emotional conversations at all costs. But he knew that if he blew this, there would be no further chances. He would be doomed.
Hermione sank into a comfy armchair in their shared common room. The reflections of the fire dancing on the wall gave the room a homely feeling, as if they were already a couple living together. Harry imagined living in this sort of a scene with Hermione for the rest of their lives. It brought a smile to his face.
He immediately blushed when he realized what he was thinking. He didn't even know if Hermione liked him yet, and already he was entertaining thoughts of them living together? Eeek.
Hermione was staring up at him expectantly. Harry was finding it extremely hard to swallow. His throat appeared to have dried up completely.
Arching an eyebrow, Hermione asked, "Well, why don't you sit down? Or is that too hard a task for you?"
Harry shook his head to try getting some sense back into it, and plonked himself down in an armchair opposite her.
Hermione felt bad when she saw how uncomfortable he looked. She knew she was being bitchy to him, and she felt kind of bad about that too, but she couldn't, in all honesty, see what it was that he wanted to talk to her about so badly.
She summoned two of the Butterbeers from their little storage cupboard in the corner of the room. They had quite a collection of Butterbeers, and lots of time to drink them.
Harry seemed to be incredibly interested in opening his bottle. He was taking his sweet time in getting a word out. They'd been in the room for about seven minutes, and he still hadn't uttered a word.
Hermione took a sip from her drink and asked, "So...did you want to talk about something?"
Harry choked on a little bit of Butterbeer, and then straightened his back slightly.
"Yes?" he asked, as if waiting for her to blow up at him again.
She looked at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to go on. He looked back down at the drink, and said, "What is the alcohol content of these drinks, do you reckon?"
Hermione's eyebrows went straight up into her hair. That was the big question? She somehow didn't think so.
"Well, if Winky the House Elf can get drunk on less than six bottles, it has to be strongish..." Hermione mused. She didn't see what this had to do with anything, but felt she should keep the conversation flowing.
Harry nodded. "Well, we probably shouldn't have more than ten bottles each."
Hermione snorted. "So you really think we'll be here for that long? Long enough to drink ten bottles of Butterbeer?"
Harry just looked at her until her insides seemed to shrivel up. "I think we'll be here a long time. We have a lot of things to talk through."
Hermione's throat was the one to dry up this time. She took a very long swig of her Butterbeer and nodded awkwardly.
Harry took a deep breath and asked, "Why did you go to the ball with that jerk?"
Hermione turned to him, scowling. "Why wouldn't I? He was a guy who was interested in me. There aren't very many of them around, in case you hadn't noticed."
Harry looked as though he was about to say something, but Hermione cut him off.
"And besides, why do you care about that?"
Harry's gaze shifted back to his own hands, and he seemed to be studying them very carefully as he replied, "Well...it just seemed like an awfully short time for you to get over...well...you know..."
He didn't finish that sentence, so Hermione finished it for him. "You think I got over you very quickly?"
He nodded, a red tinge appearing on his cheeks.
Hermione sighed. Why were guys so uneasy about the whole talking thing?
"Harry, in case you hadn't noticed, it's been over a month. And since you'd made no effort to talk to me, I simply assumed you wouldn't ask me to the dance, so I agreed to go with Daniel."
Harry seemed to brighten ever so slightly. "You mean he asked you? You didn't ask him?"
Hermione briefly considered telling him that she had in fact asked Daniel, just to see what Harry's reaction to that would have been. But then her heart stopped her. She realized she was getting somewhere with him now.
Gulping the last bit of Butterbeer, and noticing he'd finished his as well, Hermione summoned two more.
"Yes, Harry. He asked me to go to the dance with him." She frowned. "I don't know why, seeing as he treated me so badly..."
Harry looked taken aback. "But didn't you already know about his reputation?"
Hermione looked up at him. "Reputation? You mean he does that on a regular basis?"
Harry looked painfully awkward as he nodded, hating that he was the one to tell her.
Hermione looked ready to explode. "And no one told me? Everyone knew except me, and they all just let it go?"
Harry quickly intervened. "Well, everyone thought you knew...and he hadn't done it for a while, so maybe people thought he'd changed?"
Hermione grumbled into her bottle. It was already half empty.
"This stuff is really tasty," Hermione commented suddenly.
Harry's eyes glinted with a sudden idea. "Want to see who can drink theirs the fastest?"
Hermione hesitated. This was awfully childish, and what if they got drunk? But then she decided a game was what they needed to lighten the mood.
Nodding, she summoned the entire collection of bottles. She'd watch how many they drank and make sure they didn't consume too many.
Harry held one up. "Ready?"
She grinned and held up her bottle. "Cheers!"
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Okay, you can totally tell what's going to happen, but its going to be interesting all the same...as well as interesting to see if I can write this part of the story. Please read and review! It's the little blue button below this sentence, so press it with the mouse and then write me something about the story. Thank you!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Harry's stomach was squirming, and his hands were sweating. This was going to be the most excruciating moment of his life so far, telling Hermione what he truly thought and wanted. At one point, he even thought about just running out of the room and avoiding this experience entirely. He felt the old Harry coming back, the one who would avoid all emotional conversations at all costs. But he knew that if he blew this, there would be no further chances. He would be doomed.
Hermione sank into a comfy armchair in their shared common room. The reflections of the fire dancing on the wall gave the room a homely feeling, as if they were already a couple living together. Harry imagined living in this sort of a scene with Hermione for the rest of their lives. It brought a smile to his face.
He immediately blushed when he realized what he was thinking. He didn't even know if Hermione liked him yet, and already he was entertaining thoughts of them living together? Eeek.
Hermione was staring up at him expectantly. Harry was finding it extremely hard to swallow. His throat appeared to have dried up completely.
Arching an eyebrow, Hermione asked, "Well, why don't you sit down? Or is that too hard a task for you?"
Harry shook his head to try getting some sense back into it, and plonked himself down in an armchair opposite her.
Hermione felt bad when she saw how uncomfortable he looked. She knew she was being bitchy to him, and she felt kind of bad about that too, but she couldn't, in all honesty, see what it was that he wanted to talk to her about so badly.
She summoned two of the Butterbeers from their little storage cupboard in the corner of the room. They had quite a collection of Butterbeers, and lots of time to drink them.
Harry seemed to be incredibly interested in opening his bottle. He was taking his sweet time in getting a word out. They'd been in the room for about seven minutes, and he still hadn't uttered a word.
Hermione took a sip from her drink and asked, "So...did you want to talk about something?"
Harry choked on a little bit of Butterbeer, and then straightened his back slightly.
"Yes?" he asked, as if waiting for her to blow up at him again.
She looked at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to go on. He looked back down at the drink, and said, "What is the alcohol content of these drinks, do you reckon?"
Hermione's eyebrows went straight up into her hair. That was the big question? She somehow didn't think so.
"Well, if Winky the House Elf can get drunk on less than six bottles, it has to be strongish..." Hermione mused. She didn't see what this had to do with anything, but felt she should keep the conversation flowing.
Harry nodded. "Well, we probably shouldn't have more than ten bottles each."
Hermione snorted. "So you really think we'll be here for that long? Long enough to drink ten bottles of Butterbeer?"
Harry just looked at her until her insides seemed to shrivel up. "I think we'll be here a long time. We have a lot of things to talk through."
Hermione's throat was the one to dry up this time. She took a very long swig of her Butterbeer and nodded awkwardly.
Harry took a deep breath and asked, "Why did you go to the ball with that jerk?"
Hermione turned to him, scowling. "Why wouldn't I? He was a guy who was interested in me. There aren't very many of them around, in case you hadn't noticed."
Harry looked as though he was about to say something, but Hermione cut him off.
"And besides, why do you care about that?"
Harry's gaze shifted back to his own hands, and he seemed to be studying them very carefully as he replied, "Well...it just seemed like an awfully short time for you to get over...well...you know..."
He didn't finish that sentence, so Hermione finished it for him. "You think I got over you very quickly?"
He nodded, a red tinge appearing on his cheeks.
Hermione sighed. Why were guys so uneasy about the whole talking thing?
"Harry, in case you hadn't noticed, it's been over a month. And since you'd made no effort to talk to me, I simply assumed you wouldn't ask me to the dance, so I agreed to go with Daniel."
Harry seemed to brighten ever so slightly. "You mean he asked you? You didn't ask him?"
Hermione briefly considered telling him that she had in fact asked Daniel, just to see what Harry's reaction to that would have been. But then her heart stopped her. She realized she was getting somewhere with him now.
Gulping the last bit of Butterbeer, and noticing he'd finished his as well, Hermione summoned two more.
"Yes, Harry. He asked me to go to the dance with him." She frowned. "I don't know why, seeing as he treated me so badly..."
Harry looked taken aback. "But didn't you already know about his reputation?"
Hermione looked up at him. "Reputation? You mean he does that on a regular basis?"
Harry looked painfully awkward as he nodded, hating that he was the one to tell her.
Hermione looked ready to explode. "And no one told me? Everyone knew except me, and they all just let it go?"
Harry quickly intervened. "Well, everyone thought you knew...and he hadn't done it for a while, so maybe people thought he'd changed?"
Hermione grumbled into her bottle. It was already half empty.
"This stuff is really tasty," Hermione commented suddenly.
Harry's eyes glinted with a sudden idea. "Want to see who can drink theirs the fastest?"
Hermione hesitated. This was awfully childish, and what if they got drunk? But then she decided a game was what they needed to lighten the mood.
Nodding, she summoned the entire collection of bottles. She'd watch how many they drank and make sure they didn't consume too many.
Harry held one up. "Ready?"
She grinned and held up her bottle. "Cheers!"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Okay, you can totally tell what's going to happen, but its going to be interesting all the same...as well as interesting to see if I can write this part of the story. Please read and review! It's the little blue button below this sentence, so press it with the mouse and then write me something about the story. Thank you!