Thanks:
lovely deaths - Your review was very sweet. Thanks a lot. You said something about my editing, I'm not quite sure what you mean. Sometimes this websites editor won't let me do what I want. I spell check evrything first to pick out mistakes. I'm not sure what I'm missing, but thanks for the critique. I'm glad you like my work so much. Means a lot to me!
Oh2bagrapefruit - I had no problem mentioning you in my thanks!
darktwistedpoet - OMG I hate idiots who do stupid shit during concerts like that. I mean what the hell! I'm sure they'd survive turning off their damn phones and not talking to people for a few hours. Things like that piss me off.
Mistress-of-Britain - Aww, you don't have to do that... LOL thanks.
lady sanctuary - So many questions... I'm gla dI can leave people wondering like that. Stories are so boring if everything is just handed on a silver platter to you. Well, for me anyways...
Note: I'm going to be working on a one-shot fic pretty soon. I have two of them already playing in my mind so I'm not sure which one I'll choose. So be looking out for it at some point in the near future... maybe...
And finally... The disclaimer: I own nothing, just the plot.
Chapter Thirteen
A deep blanket of snow covered the grounds of Hogwarts. Chatter erupted in the hallways as classes were let out. Students bustled as they conversed with one another. Only one topic lingered on the lips of each individual.
The Yule Ball.
Indeed it was just around the corner, and everyone was eager to find that special someone to go with. Many students had managed to snatch a date, others gossiped about who would be taking who, and who was still free.
Hermione strayed through the corridor, unaware of the energy floating about. Her backpack weighed a ton and her feet were barking for a chance to sit down. The morning had been a busy one, filled with projects being turned in, massive homework being issued, and of course—the need to find a date for the dance. She, naturally, didn't concern herself about the dance. Being Head Girl, it was required that she showed up to set an example and perform her duties. However, it wasn't required to have a date, so she hadn't anything to lose sleep over.
Ron's voice rung out in the hallway, causing her to slow pace. The goofy grin plastered on his face was the first signal that something was up. Harry followed behind him, avoiding the whimsical glances the female student body shot at him. Every girl wanted a piece of him, it was a no-brainer. He had already had to turn down six girls in the past week who had asked him to the ball.
Hermione chuckled to herself as one girl opened her mouth to speak to Harry, and he averted her oh so predictable question.
"You're a natural heart-breaker, Harry Potter," Hermione stated as the two boys reached her. Harry blushed lightly and laughed the comment off.
"Harry? What about me!" Ron stated offensively. Hermione tried very hard to suppress the fit of giggles raging about in her stomach. Coughing rather forcefully, she raised her hand to cover the smile playing on her lips. Ron gaped at her.
"I don't believe this!" He squeaked. "I'll have you know there have been plenty of lucky women begging for a piece of this!" He finished his statement with a tug of his robes. Harry couldn't help himself, the scene was too comical. "What year?" he asked. Ron hesitated to answer at first, and brought out his reply in a mumble.
"First and second…" he bit out.
Hermione and Harry's laughter rung out in the hallway. Ron's face blushed into a deep red, giving him the illusion of being a tomato. Hermione gripped her side in laughter. It hurt to laugh this hard, she wasn't used to it.
"Well, what about you Hermione! I don't see guys lining up to ask you!" Ron huffed.
Hermione could have taken that remark scornfully, but she was laughing to hard and she knew Ron was just being Ron. "That's because…" she gasped, "The boys at this school are scared that you or Harry will pummel them if they even speak to me, none the less try to ask me out on a date."
Harry sighed facing Ron who slumped in defeat. "She has a point mate. You're awfully scary when you're protective. Remember how long it took Colin Creevey to get up the nerve to asked Ginny to Hogsmeade?"
Ron sighed, letting his face to pout.
"So who are you taking?" he asked Harry as the trio made their way to the Great Hall. Harry hesitated, stealing a quick glance to Hermione. "No one at the moment," he said. Ron gaped again. "No one? What do you mean no one? You're the bloody God of this school and can't even to score a date to a dance?" Harry rolled his eyes.
"I've been asked, BELIEVE me. I just haven't really said yes. I'd rather do the asking if you know what I mean…"
"Not really," Ron answered completely puzzled. Hermione laughed again at his remark, sitting between the two guys when reaching their house table.
The silence in the library gave off a creepy sort of ambience. Harry had always bargained that silence should be banned. In all his years of fighting the Dark Arts, the greatest thing Harry had learned was to be cautious of noises, but even more cautious of silence. It always had unnerved him, making his body tremble and his stomach queasy.
She loved it. With so much chaos in life, the sound of nothing could be quite friendly. It allowed her to think, which was both good and bad, but still necessary. The obnoxious stirrings of rumors, chattering, and fights throughout the school grated her nerves on occasion. Silence was more welcoming to her than a room full of students talking to one another. Silence didn't discriminate, it accepted everyone.
Harry groaned, closing his book and wanting to slam it on the table. Hermione shot him a perturbed look, instantly silencing the second groan wanting to escape his body. He rolled his head back, rubbing his sore neck from the awkward position her had been holding it in. The sound of a sharp breath being sucked in caused Hermione's concentration to falter completely.
Irritated, she shut her book. It was useless trying to study when the person you were studying with preferred to complain about it, with or without words.
"Harry, if you choose not to use this time wisely, why did you insist on coming?" Hermione bit out. Her temper was simmering just about normal. She hadn't planned at all to come to the library when she said she was going to. It was just an excuse, like always. She could have been trailing around outside where she wanted to be. However, Harry just had to fancy joining her, so she caved and picked a random subject to "study".
Like Hermione, Harry had no interest in studying. He bit his lip, trying to think of how to approach the situation he dreaded putting himself into. It was al so ridiculous. Just asked the damn question, she's not going to flip out.
"I wanted to come to talk to you…" he started out. Hermione's eyebrows raised in inquisition. She didn't speak, making it harder for Harry to go on.
Finally, Harry crumbled and forced his thoughts out. "What happened to us?" he spilled. It was not at all what Hermione had expected. Her features softened, and she looked down towards the table. She didn't know what to make of the question and became lost in her thoughts. Harry reached over and placed his hand in hers, causing her to jumped so slightly it wasn't even noticeable.
"I don't know what you mean, Harry," she stated truthfully.
"I miss you Hermione," he confessed. A great weight lifted off his shoulders as the words tumbled out of his mouth. Step one was passed, now for the rest of the journey. Hermione's mouth opened slightly. It was starting to be uncomfortable for her, and it shouldn't be.
"Harry--" she began to plead. Her eyes were so full of emotion, Harry started to panic.
"Hold on," Harry interjected. "I know things didn't quite go as planned-- actually there never was a plan. What I mean is…" His words were jumbled together. He began to stutter as his brain tried to form sentences. "I know you must hate me and all—"
"I never hated you Harry…"
"—And I know I've been such an ass—"
"No you haven't…"
"—I let things get out of control and I shouldn't have—"
"There was nothing you could do…"
"—But I want to start over again—"
"Harry please…"
"—because I still love you."
Silence. There was that bloody silence again.
Hermione stared at him. Harry wanted to avert his eyes, the glare was so unbelievably awkward.
Love? He loved her? Hermione could have vomited. The thought was repulsive, somebody actually loving her. No… he was mistaken. He didn't love her. He was just infatuated with her and thought it was love.
"Harry, I don't know about this," she mumbled.
Harry looked like he could have died. He let go of her hand, and settled back in his seat. Step two had been complete and assaulted. Now what?
"Could we just try?" he pleaded silently. Hermione sighed, cursing herself for being the way she was. The sight of him was pitiful and tore her to shreds. How could she have had this affect on someone and never knew about it? Like a bridge with too much weight, she buckled under the pressure.
"It would have to be slow Harry," she whispered. Harry's eyes snapped back to her. She could just see the hope reeking form his pores.
"Go to the dance with me?" he asked. Actually, it was more a command than a question. Hermione nodded her head gently. "Ok," she assured him. Harry's shoulders relaxed and he smiled. Hermione returned it with a small smile of her own, all the while hexing herself for doing this to both herself and his. It was all a lie that she had created long ago, evolving into a monster she could no longer control.
Harry got up from the table, hugging her gently and excusing himself. Hermione's breaths became a bit shakier as she watched him exit the library.
What had she done?
People do many stunts thinking that they are for the better of some conflict. Arguments could be halted by both people just agreeing to disagree. However, doing so never really solves the original problem at hand. In fact, it prolongs it until the problem is in laymen's terms "catastrophic". There is a saying that the sun should never settle on an argument. No one should go to bed angry with someone; they end up the next day buried twice as deep in the hole they created for themselves.
By now Hermione should have reached China.
She admitted that she was notorious for handling her issues in the absolute worst ways possible. She admitted she was weak, too weak to stand up for herself, and too weak to stop things that could be prevented.
Hermione should have just turned Harry down. The dance wasn't the issue. She was leading him on and it killed her. Staring at herself in the mirror, Hermione could no longer depict who the person was gazing back at her. The reflection was foreign. It was evil.
She wiped away the tears forming in her eyes and shuddered. Reaching for her wand, she cleaned the newly formed cuts on her arms and hid them from view. Taking a deep breath, Hermione freshened the make up she had applied earlier to her face and exited the bathroom.
Her room was dark and quiet. She sat on her bed and contemplated herself again for the umpteenth time that day. Looking at the clock on the wall, she sighed. Harry should be on his way to her room as we speak so that he could escort her to the ball.
Out of anxiety, Hermione began cracking her knuckles. This would be an interesting night.
The sound of knocking could have turned her ears deaf compared to the agonizing stillness in the room. He was here. Yay…
Hermione shook her head and breathed deeply. Shoving all the nonsense out of her head, she gave one last look over at herself and pried open the portrait door. However, the emerald green eyes she had dreaded to see did not pear back at her. Not knowing what else to say, she spoke the first thing that came to mind.
"What do you want Malfoy?"
