Disclaimer: Not one tiny shred of the basic plot/characters/etc. is mine. OK? Are you happy now?
(Note: Bits in italics are dreams, *asterisks are thoughts* and #hashes are song lyrics, singing, etc.#)
Chapter 3: Everyone Knows Now
To recap: Hermione was reading was Spells To Disguise Your Emotions Volume Seven – What To do When You Are In Love. "I did find a spell though," she said quietly. "And it might just work."
"Really? What is it?" Harry enquired.
"A spell. Look, I don't even know –"
"What page?" Harry demanded, flicking through the book.
"298," Hermione said. Harry found the page and saw the spell entitled, "If All Else Fails – Kill His/Her Soul". Harry stared at it.
"Kill. Her. Soul," he said slowly. He read on. "If the object you desire has no soul, you will certainly fall out of love. No matter what anybody says, love is much, much deeper than skin. Kill the soul, kill the attraction." He looked pale.
"Yes, but… well. That's a drastic measure," Hermione said. "I guess we could wait a while, but… who knows what you'll do." She blushed.
"I'm not going to go mad and kiss her or anything!"
"You might reveal your feelings and get expelled. And think – Snape. Malfoy."
"Blast." He paused for a moment. "Well, we'll wait… how long?"
"How about four to five months? That's until the summer half term. Then we can figure out what to do over the holidays – if we need to do anything."
"Isn't that a bit long?"
"No. Trust me."
"Hermione, you're a star," he said, hugged her and ran out of the library, once again attracting stares.
That night…
*Another bloody dream, * he thought. *What next? * He was in a beautiful field and a picnic of butterbeer, scones with jam and cream, bread, pineapple chunks, pumpkin pie and chocolate frogs (sedated) had been set out on a red and white checked cloth with a wicker basket. It was very Sound Of Music-esque.
"Oh boy!" he cried, and got to work on the butterbeer. He lifted the lid of the wicker basket to find some more and was face to face with McGonagall's head. He could hardly see the rest of her body, but from what he could see he saw she'd drunk all the butterbeer.
"NO! PROFESSOR! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH BUTTERBEER COSTS?!"
"Harry! Didn't expect to see you here. Come on in."
"What – into the basket?"
"Yes, it's very roomy…"
Feeling doubtful, he jumped in and found himself in the fiery pits of hell. Flames leaped around everywhere, and mini devils for Sheep the Adventurer! occasionally ran across his toes. Another picnic was set here, but the food was rotten (except for the boiled cabbage) and the butterbeer had flies and dust in it. McGonagall herself was blackened with soot.
"It's dangerous down here," she said. "Look, I give it to you now. This is what you'll have if you reveal your feelings for me. We'll be together, but you'll be in hell. On the other hand you could get on with your life."
Suddenly she turned into a trampoline. Harry guessed that was the way out. He jumped on it and found himself back at the picnic. With eight bottles of butterbeer at his side…
He woke up. *Oh God. Did I really dream that? *
He realized Cho was standing over him. She looked sad, and tears were streaming down her face. "Harry," she said, her voice cracking. "Hermione talked to me last night. She said… she said you were going a bit mad. What's the matter?"
"I – um… coursework. Getting on top of me. Hermione said WHAT?"
"Well. Not as bluntly. But she said you were having a nervous breakdown…"
*I'll kill her*
"No. Yes. No. I don't know."
"Well… I suppose we need to… go on a break. I think it would be best for both of us."
"YOU BITCH!" Harry exploded. Hermione looked defiant, her face red. They were in Harry's dorm room in the middle of a blazing row.
"I DID IT FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!" She screamed back.
"MY OWN GOOD? WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT?"
Ron walked in just as Hermione was saying, "WELL, I THINK WHEN YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH A TEACHER YOU NEED ALL THE HELP YOU CAN GET!"
"Sorry?" asked Ron quietly. He stood behind Hermione and turned her head to face his. "What? Did I miss something? Oh yes – you," he said and kissed her. 'Aaw' and barfing at the same time…
She pushed away boo and said, "What did you hear?"
"Oh, that Harry's in love with a teacher – which we all know anyway." Harry gave Hermione an evil look. "No, not from her," Ron continued, "we just guessed. I mean, come on – it was all your come-hither looks, the blushes, and the averted gaze that went towards her chest… I mean, I'm disgusted. But I want to help. It's – it's…" he could hardly finish for laughing. "It's better than – than having a crush on Snape!" He collapsed onto Harry's bed and laughed himself silly.
"RON! This is serious," Hermione scalded. "This is a serious problem – and if your insignificant brain can't cope with that, then shove off and leave us in peace."
"Sorry," he said, wiping tears from his cheeks. "It's just… Harry and Snape. Hee, hee. Sorry. So. What have you decided to do? And what was the row about?"
"Hermione decided to tell Cho that I was having a nervous breakdown."
"You did what?" Even Ron looked shocked.
"Well. He is." Hermione mumbled. "Anyway," she rapidly changed the subject very wise, "we said Harry should wait until summer half term, and we can work on the problem in the holidays. After all, we need time for our NEWTS."
"Good idea. Very good idea. So Harry… that dream…" Ron realized.
"What?"
"That dream Neville and me woke you up from – you were dreaming about McGonagall…" he sung annoyingly. "What was it?"
"Well… it was like that Muggle show, The Jerry Springer Show – Dudley used to watch it all the time – and you were the host of it. It was called The Ronny Weasley Show… and you were talking about me being in love with McGonagall… it was horrible."
"Cool."
However much he tried to hide it, he missed Cho. Yes, in his head he'd been cheating on her (tut, tut) but he wasn't in real life. Nor was he having a nervous breakdown, as Hermione so kindly assumed. He missed Cho in the way that he always had someone to talk to, and she'd actually listen. He missed the way she'd do his homework for him (Hermione frowning from afar) if he was too tired from Quidditch Practice. Harry was captain (predictably) – so he had to arrange matches and plan everything. The matches had been cancelled for a week due to Madame Hooch being ill, so at least that was a load off his mind.
He could imagine a Quidditch scoreboard with the words, Due to Harry Potter's perverted mind, his brain has been disabled until further notice. All sensible thoughts have been cancelled for the foreseeable future. Basically, his coursework was behind (and no amount of magic could fix it) and he wasn't paying attention in class. People skirted round him in the common room (it seemed as if most of them had got the general gist of the previous row) and it was going round the school in an annoying playground tune…
#Harry loves McGonagall, Harry loves McGonagall…#
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R&R please. Please. Please R&R. R&R s'il vous plait. R&R por favor. Please.