Hermione sat in the Great Hall picking at her chicken salad and garlic bread. She hardly dared to eat the garlic bread in fear that Harry might smell if they got close, not that she was planning on them being close…but they might be talking with her heads close to each other…or something. Anyway, her stomach was doing flips at the thought of being alone with Harry. For some reason they hadn't been alone much since starting back at school, Ron was always around, Hermione thought in annoyance.

"Ready?" Harry asked, appearing beside her. "Oh, sorry I thought you'd have finished by now," he added, spotting her untouched food.

"Oh I have, I mean, I'm not hungry," she replied seeing him frown.

"If you're sure. You know, I hope you're not going to diet or anything like some of the other girls," Harry said as they walked outside to where the Quidditch equipment room was. "You're already skinny enough."

Hermione almost choked in surprise at the thought of Harry noticing her appearance. "I'm not that skinny," she replied, looking away.

"Well no, not unhealthy skinny but you know slim, just right."

"Thanks," Hermione replied, not sure whether Harry was deliberately complimenting her. She presumed not as he made no further comments about her skinniness.

"I thought we'd start off sorting out what's needed and what can be thrown out," Harry said after unlocking the room and surveying it with a critical eye. "All that needs to stay is up-to-date equipment, tactic sheets and those practice quaffles. Anything else is probably no use or so old it belongs before Dumbledore's time."

Hermione didn't want to appear stupid by saying that she really had no idea what would be useful to keep, so she remained silent as Harry delved into a pile of torn and faded looking robes.

"Well these can go for a start," Harry coughed as dust and mothballs sprang up from beneath the pile.

"Here," Hermione offered, extending her wand and uttering, Refuso baggium. Black bin liners appeared from nowhere, bagging the offending robes and tying themselves up neatly, before going to rest by the wall outside.

"Great! The house elves will get rid of them for us," Harry said, smirking at what he knew Hermione would say next.

"Or we could do it ourselves," Hermione replied on cue. "They're not our slaves, they shouldn't be made to tidy up after us. We do have hands of our own you know."

"Ok ok," Harry cried, holding his arms up in submission. "I was joking, you know, playing around, having fun."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Um, nothing…forget I said anything," Harry replied, turning around to continue with the tidying.

"No, what did you mean? Tell me," Hermione said, taking hold of Harry's shoulder to turn him back round to face her.

Harry looked at her, his gaze lowering so he didn't have to meet her eye. "You've just become a bit, I don't know, serious. Not like your normal serious," he added seeing the confusion on her face. "But really distracted, you don't laugh much anymore Hermione."

Hermione didn't know what to say. How can he say that? she thought, I laugh, I laugh all the time. But Hermione knew she was trying to kid to herself. Harry was right, she had become preoccupied, but it Harry's fault. She couldn't relax around him anymore; constantly wondering what he as thinking and whether he was thinking about her.

"It's just work," she said eventually. "I'm really stressed with exams that's all."

"Sure," Harry replied, though obviously unconvinced. "Come on, we need to get this finished before bed time."

The pair continued with the sorting well into the evening, thought Hermione wasn't sure she was being much help. Harry did most of the sorting, while she did the same spell to put all the rubbish into sacks. Finally, as the clock chimed the late hour for bed, Harry arranged the last shelf into an orderly fashion, took one last look around the room, and locked the door behind them. They walked in silence towards the castle, neither realy having much to say. Or at least Hermione had plenty she would have liked to day, but didn't dare to utter anything.

"Thanks for helping me tonight," Harry said breaking the silence as they climbed the stairs up towards the common room.

"It's fine, I was happy to help," Hermione replied, not offering any further conversation.

"Mashed Potatoes," Harry said at the Fat Lady portrait. She swung the frame around with a bored expression on her face, revealing the glowing warmth of the common room. Ron was sat with Dean and Seamus by the fire, swapping some sort of cards between themselves. Ron glanced up as they entered, nodded a hello then bent his head back to the game.

"You off to bed then?" Harry asked, seeing Hermione utter a jaw-breaking yawn.

"Yeah I guess," she replied, making her way to the entrance of the girls' dorm.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, extending his hand to touch the sleeves of her jumper.

"Yes?" she said in a small voice, unable to move at the feel of Harry's hand touching her.

"Are you sure you're alright?

Hermione forced herself to look Harry in the eyes and seeing the concern that she could only comprehend as being out of friendship, she managed an answer before walking quickly away up to her room. She paused long enough on the stairs to her Ron ask what was up with her, to which Harry shrugged and said, "your guess is as good as mine."

Hermione managed to undress and get into bed, pulling the duvet up around her chin. Her arm felt hot and tingly where Harry had held onto it, and her min was racing with thoughts she knew were wrong. He's your friend, she told herself, and your best friend. You can't mess that up now. And as she tried in vain to fall asleep quickly the last image that went through her mind was of Harry's eyes, filled with concern for a friend.