Chapter 3: A Walking Contradiction

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It was the darkest of blacks, like the one in a moonless night or the one that might be encountered below six feet of dirt, on the playground of roots and worms. And in the middle of the all-consuming darkness, there was a single spot of color… a glowing red sphere. Beating… first dim and hazy, then blinding… until the black was swallowed by a wave of red light, and a piercing scream like that of a thousand souls shattered the glow… and the terrifying darkness was once again all that there was.

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Harry woke up abruptly, feeling the sweat clinging to his body as if he had just stepped out of the shower. He had been dreaming, but by Merlin's sake, he couldn't remember what he had been dreaming of. Harry sat on the bed and compulsively put a hand on to his forehead.

His scar was burning.

"You better get used to it. It's going to hurt for a while," Harry jumped at the sound of the voice and looked to his right. The voice belonged to Ron, who was sitting in a chair next to Harry's bed.

It was only then that Harry noticed he wasn't in his room, but in the territory of the Hogwart's nurse, Madam Pomfrey. Harry noticed his left arm felt heavy and he looked down at it; his arm was bandaged and in a sling.

"What happened?" Harry asked Ron, feeling slightly dizzy. "You mean you don't remember your little circus performance in the library?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrow emphatically.

'The library? What happened in… oh' Harry groaned. He remembered climbing up to the top shelf of the bookshelf in order to get a better look at Roger and Hermione. He remembered leaning away from it, and he remembered taking a hand off the shelf in order to lower an Extendable Ear to hear their conversation.

Harry didn't remember anything else, but he didn't need to be a Master of the Obvious in order to piece it together.

"I fell, didn't I?" Harry said, sounding ashamed. Ron shook his head, "No, mate… you crashed AND burned. Broke the bloody desk Hermione and Roger had been using!" Harry then had inkling as to why his chest hurt.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked Ron. "She's making rounds," Ron said casually. The look of disappointment in Harry's eyes did not go unnoticed by the usually thick-as-steel Ron. "Oh, but she was very worried about you! She wanted to be here, but McGonagall made Roger assist Madam Pince on cleaning up the mess you left in the library, so…!" Ron offered.

"Yeah, right" the sarcasm evident in Harry's voice even when he did not wished it. He thought he knew Hermione well enough to discern that, if she really wanted something, she would find a means to get it.

"You got a lot of explaining to do, mate," Ron added.

"Oh, I bet Madam Pince just wants to get her bony hands around my neck," Harry mumbled, closing his eyes tiredly. "Not to her, you git! To Hermione!" Ron replied.

"Why? Because I ruined Roger's perfect proposal? Well, I'm sorry if I got blood on his white crisp shirt. I'll try to bleed on myself next time" Harry said, surprised at his own bitterness. It was true what Ron had implied just moments ago… he had definitely expected to see Hermione standing by his bedside.

"I take it by your charming disposition that the Potion #9 is still working," Ron snapped at him. Harry was ashamed with himself… he had been the one that had acted like a jerk. He knew he had no right to spy on Hermione, and that he definitely didn't have a right to be mad at her for accepting Roger's invitation.

But it still hurt like hell.

"What did you say to her?" Harry asked. "That you were trying to reach a book when the bookshelf toppled," Ron said. "And she believed that?" Harry asked wearily as he closed his eyes. Ron's ears went a slight shade of pink; he had never been a gifted liar.

"I don't think so. But she didn't say anything… she was too worried about you. She was crying…" Ron started answering. Harry didn't want to hear anything else; the last thing he wanted to know was that he had made Hermione cry.

"What time is it?" Harry desperately wished to change the conversation. "A quarter to midnight," Ron answered. "What?" he asked as he forced himself to open his eyes.

"Yeah, mate. You've been passed out for the last five hours. You knocked your head against the desk, you know… awful sound it made," Ron replied. If it was almost midnight it meant that the effect of the potion was already passing.

"How long do I have to stay here?" Harry asked. "Madam Pomfrey said that you had to stay the whole night. She wants to make sure you don't have a concussion," Ron replied as he stood up from the chair and looked down at Harry.

"Alright. I'll guess I'll see you in the morning," Harry said with a light wave of his good hand. "Sure. Try to catch some sleep," Ron said with a yawn, patting Harry's shoulder. Ron turned around and was out of sight, but Harry could still hear his footsteps in the room.

Ron's footsteps suddenly stopped, but Harry knew his best friend was still in the room. "Harry?" he heard Ron say hesitantly.

"What?" Harry mumbled. "I'm sure Hermione wanted to be here more than anything else," Ron said. Leaving behind that simple thought, Harry heard Ron's footsteps as he finally left the hospital wing.

Harry was groggy; he didn't know what Madam Pomfrey had given him, but it had to have been something quite powerful. And yet, he didn't feel like going to sleep. His guilt over his behavior since he had taken the potion and the pain he felt every time he remembered how excited Hermione was about going to the ball with Roger made for two very contradicting train of thoughts that were colliding inside his tired mind.

'Just go to sleep, Harry. Tomorrow you are going to wake up and all this mess would have cleaned up by itself.'

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2 Hours Later

But, as potent as the Madam Pomfrey's medicines have been, sleep didn't come over Harry. Instead, he had spent the last two hours looking up at the ceiling, his arms on his side, listening to the sound of his breathing and the occasional tapping of Madam Pomfrey's feet on the cold marble floor.

He pretended to be asleep every time she walked by his bed to check up on him. He had too many things of his mind to add an old lady who had a tendency for being excruciatingly over-protective… like the growing headache that made his head feel like an overstuffed piñata.

He didn't pay attention to the footsteps that were growing louder. 'Must be Madam Pomfrey again' he thought, slightly annoyed. It felt good to have someone actually caring for him… but it would be so much better if that someone was a certain seventeen-year-old brown-haired gal in a Hogwart's uniform.

'What the hell is wrong with me? The potion's effect is supposed to be subsiding. I am not supposed to be feeling this way anymore… or am I? Maybe Ron did something with his potion that makes it last longer. Bloody Ron! I'm going to strangle him in the morning…

It wasn't until he heard a familiar female voice whispering nearby that his senses were completely jerked awake. Harry looked thru the curtain around his bed and saw two outlines: a taller woman with an opened book on her desk, and a shorter, but full-bodied girl standing in front of her.

"What are you doing here so late, Ms. Granger?" Madam Pomfrey asked briskly. "I just finished my rounds. I was wondering if I could see my friend Harry before going to bed?"  Hermione's tired voice graced Harry's ears. "He's sleeping," Madam Pomfrey answered.

'That's it, good woman! Send her back to her room where she be… Wait, no! Her room is next to Roger's room and… oh, what the hell am I saying? I've gone bloody insane'.

"Oh, I understand. Can I see him just a minute? I promise not to wake him," Hermione pleaded. His heart sank. She sounded very worried.

"All right, child. But just a minute," Madam Pomfrey said, her voice gentle. "Thanks," Hermione whispered. The next thing Harry heard was Hermione's footsteps coming his way.

'What will I say? How can I explain what I was doing without sounding like a bloody sod? I just can't go and tell her "Hermione, I drank the love potion in Snape's class and it made me fall in love with you, so I was spying on you on the library and that's why I fell. Now, let's go up to your room and start making babies" now, can I?

So Harry did what he thought any other guy would have done in his situation.

He pretended to be asleep.

He could smell her lavender shampoo as he heard her stop walking when she reached his bedside. Harry almost jumped when he felt her delicate hand gently touching his own.

"Oh, Harry. Just what do you think you were doing?" she whispered, her voice sounding both annoyed and worried. It was a tone familiar to Harry, for she had used that same tone of voice countless of times with Ron and Harry.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose when he felt her fingers caress his unruly raven hair, moving it away from his forehead, tickling him slightly. With the tip of her finger, Hermione kindly touched the bump that had formed just over his scar.

"Well, it doesn't look as bad as it did when you fell…Harry, you scared me half to death!" Hermione said in a whisper. Harry felt as if he was going to explode when he felt her hand on his cheek. She lightly rubbed his cheek with her thumb with a gentleness Harry had never experienced before.

"Harry James Potter. What am I going to do with you? When you are not looking for trouble, trouble's looking for you," she said humorously, obviously relieved that her friend was recuperating well. "I got to go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow," she whispered.

The next thing Harry felt were Hermione's lips as she gently laid a feather-light kiss on his forehead.

It wasn't until Hermione's faded footsteps left the room that Harry dared open his eyes and he exhaled a breath of air he didn't know he had been holding.

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Sorry for the short chapter, but I promise more angst and heartbreak in the next! Please review and let me know you are reading.

Lisa Oceans Potter: Thanks for being the one (and only hehe) reviewer. Feels good to know that at least someone out there is enjoying it. Do I still have your attention? Oh, and thanks to you and your Enchanted Dance, I can't keep the Dirrrrty song out my head. Time to get rowdy!

Peace,

Anasazi