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Chapter Fourteen: The Kiss of Death

Needless to say, sleep didn't come easy that night. My conversations with the girls and Harry rolled around in my brain until I drifted off somewhere around 3am. I dreamed that I was late meeting Harry in Hogsmeade because other students kept running up to me asking why I couldn't find Harry, but everyone seemed to know where he was and wouldn't tell me. I finally managed to make it into the village, but I ran into Harry with Cho and neither one seemed to know who the hell I was. Just then, Malfoy showed up snickering, "Who would remember a trippy little Yank like you?" before dumping a steaming cauldron over my head. I woke up with a start around 7am and never quite fell back asleep.

Around 9am was when the dorm started waking. Fortunately, I had the foresight to get in and showered before Lavender and Parvati woke up. Sure enough, the two of them proceeded to hole themselves up in the bathroom for the next hour while Hermione combed through my wardrobe.

"I absolutely refuse to wear anything remotely bordering on red," I said defiantly. I yawned and leaned over the end of my bed where Hermione was pouring over the contents of my trunk. She was already showered and dressed in jeans and a ribbed, powder blue sweater. Her hair didn't look as bushy as normal and was tied back in a loose ponytail. As she looked up I could see she was wearing makeup, which I'd never seen on her before.

"I didn't think you would," Hermione replied, "You seem to be quite the anti-Valentine."

"Single's Awareness Day, I prefer to call it," I said, "I have a black sweater balled up somewhere in the bottom."

"You're not wearing some wrinkled sweater!" Hermione cried. A look of triumph appeared on her face as she held something up, "There! This will work!" She was holding up a blue-green, cable knit sweater that I didn't even remember packing in my trunk. I suddenly remembered that it was a hand-me-down from Aunt Sarah.

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't want to wear that! It's old! And it has color."

"It'd be a good color on you! It'd go with your hair!"

"Which hair?" I replied. My color job was well past faded and the blonde highlights from the beginning of the year were nearly gone. My hair was dark brown and plain—for the first time in years there wasn't any dye residue on my pillows anymore.

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and threw the sweater at me. "You'd better get dressed. We're all going pretty soon."

I slid the sweater over my head, tied my hair back and looked in the mirror. It's not a date. It's not a date. It's not a date—especially if you show up looking like that. My eyes were puffy as a testament to my restless night and my hair hadn't quite dried completely yet. After accidentally setting my head on fire two years ago I'd given up on using my wand to dry myself and my hair dryer couldn't work on Hogwarts grounds. I sighed and turned to my trunk—a little bit of makeup couldn't hurt, I told myself. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen or used eye shadow or lip-gloss. If you dress up then he might think it's supposed to be a date—but what if it's not and then you just make him feel awkward then the two of you end up not speaking for the rest of the year? And what if—

"Reg, are you going to stand over your trunk all day or what?" Hermione barked, snapping me out of the land of delusion. I hauled my makeup bag out of my trunk and settled myself near the mirror.

"Gimme a minute," I muttered, and rummaged for the most neutral colors I could find.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione and I came trotting down the stairs slightly more graceful than the previous night. I knew we had probably missed breakfast, but we started down towards the Great Hall anyways.

"Where's Ron meeting you?" I asked as we stepped through the Fat Lady.

"Oh, down near the lake," Hermione replied somewhat dreamily. I'd never know for Hermione to reply dreamily about anything, but it was V-day and anything was possible. The sudden image of Snape parading around the castle in red robes handing out valentines popped into my head for no reason. Okay, maybe not everything. What was it about holidays bringing out the ridiculous nature in all of us? What idiot came up with a holiday built solely on the grounds of finding self-validation by means of dating—that by being alone on this particular day made you some kind of social leper that needed pity or worse, "hooked up"? It was all I could do to keep myself from sprinting in the other direction as Hermione and I parted ways near the large marble staircase that led down to the Great Hall.

You're just hanging out…just a couple of single idiots hanging out in Hogsmeade. On Valentines Day. Alone. Even my own brain was starting to play games with me. I took a deep breath as I made my way down the stairs and towards the doors. He wasn't looking up at the staircase as I came down so it gave me a chance to take him in before he saw me. Harry was wearing jeans and a dark green sweater that actually fit him (not a hand-me-down from his blimp of a cousin). Aww…no flowers. Shut up, brain, or I'll stab you with a Q-tip!

"Hey," I said as I reached the landing. Harry jumped slightly like he hadn't been expecting anyone to come up.

"Hey, Reg. Ready?" Harry said. He was definitely calm, cool, and collected about everything as he smiled at me. Not a date, definitely, I told myself. I started to feel a wave of relief wash over me, but it quickly became a chill as Harry pushed himself off the pillar he'd been leaning against and went crashing to the floor.

"Harry!"

"I'm fine," Harry laughed, shakily. When he got to his feet I could tell he was a little flushed—from embarrassment or nerves, I couldn't tell which. He straightened his clothes and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. "Still ready?"

I just grinned like an idiot, "As I'll ever be." Stupid…stupid…stupid!

For the next two hours, Harry and I proceeded to take Hogsmeade and the school grounds by storm. Firstly, we saw Ron and Hermione from a distance holding hands as they strolled around the lake. Under normal circumstances we probably would've snickered and chucked a few snowballs at them, but today things were different. We talked about the looming O.W.L.s and our summer plans as we made our way across the snow-laden grounds down towards Hogsmeade. The weather was actually nicer than we'd expected and the snow was even beginning to melt in a few patches. The whole way down we saw other students—some on individual dates, some in groups, and some just meandering on their own. Every so often I caught a few glances in our direction—I didn't know whether to roll my eyes or make to poke out theirs, but at least the whispering was kept to a minimum. We joked with each other as we made our way through Zonko's comparing their products to those of the Weasley twins (no comparison). We stopped into Dervish and Banges to pick up some Potion class supplies and then it was onward to Honeydukes where I proceeded to drool like a toddler over a mountain of White Chocolate Frogs that had just come in—cream-filled, no less. Having spent the last of my allotted funds at Gladrags on some fabric scraps (I'd since taken to making my own headbands since my funky jewelry was, in essence, banned) Harry secretly paid for a handful of the Frogs and split them with me once we'd left the store. I'd even forgotten that it was Valentine's Day—it was just another Hogsmeade weekend with my friend—until we decided to grab a butterbeer before heading back to school.

"I'll pay you back, I swear," I muttered. My mouth was filled with White Chocolate Frog, part of which oozed slightly down my mouth as I tried to speak. After the three hours we'd spent roaming Hogsmeade like friends and not dates I'd left all notions of appropriate behavior.

Harry just laughed at my state as we made our way into the Three Broomsticks. A rush of warm air greeted us first—then a wave of nausea second. Nearly every table was full of Hogwarts students in various stages of either dating, making out, or both. The older folks that were dating were mostly huddled in a corner by the fire looking sullenly into their mugs and muttering to themselves. I didn't know whether to laugh or hurl—apparently neither did Harry. We managed to squeeze our way to the bar to order a couple of butterbeers before taking a table by the window that just opened up.

"Little crowded today, huh?" I laughed.

"Yeah," Harry replied, looking around. He rolled the bottom of his bottle along the table idly. I followed his gaze along the many tables and realized that this was a bad idea. Ug, too romantic.

"Soooo…"I sighed, "Was there anything else you wanted to do today before we meet up with Ron and Hermione?"

"Not really," Harry said, "There's nothing else I really need."

We sat in silence for a few minutes not looking at each other. Our gazes shifted from the window to the people inside to our own bottles rolling on the table—anywhere but each other. It was obvious that we'd entered into a realm we weren't ready for that day—the difference between day out and date. We'd been fine when we'd been on our own shopping, but as soon as we found ourselves among peers again everything changed—they were imposing their social beliefs on us. You two should be on a date! You should be holding hands! Damn you! Damn you all to hell!

Harry cleared his throat suddenly, which ripped me back to our current predicament. The question was, which one of us was going to ask first.

"So are we on a date or what?" Harry asked, finally looking me in the eyes.

Well, that answers that…

"I mean, I wasn't sure when I asked you in the common room last night if we were actually meeting as a date or just to hang out—and then all day today we've had a blast, but I didn't want to ask because—"

"—Because you didn't want to make things weird." I finished.

Harry grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, exactly. So…"

For once, I was at a complete loss of words. Harry and I were on the same page—what that page was I had no idea, but at least we were there together. There was only one question that could clear everything up.

"So, is this a date?" I asked.

Harry shrugged and turned a deeper shade of red. Obviously, that was the wrong way to phrase the question.

"Okay…lemme ask this. Do you like me Harry?"

The redness intensified and I suddenly felt the urge to throw myself through the window. I had asked the un-askable and now I would have to pay with my dignity or my friendship. All hands brace for impact, my brain shouted.

"I don't know…"

Okay, so it wasn't quite the response I had been expecting, but it could've been worse. At least it wasn't "Yes, madly!" or dumped butterbeer on my head as he ran laughing from the bar. This meant there was hope—or a delay in the inevitable.

"I mean—that came out wrong…I like you, Reg—"

Oh. Christ.

"—But I just don't know if it's just like a friend or more. I mean, I have the best time with you. I don't know if you feel the same—"

"Yes!" I interrupted so enthusiastically that several heads turned. I felt my face go warm. God, this is awkward—that's an understatement. My inner monologue had suddenly split into two voices and was bickering at me and each other. Now on top of dealing with my own swirling emotions I had multiple personalities to deal with. Wee.

"I mean," I continued, " I had—well, I've always had—a great time with you, too." Smooth. "—But I was just afraid that we'd—"

"—Ruin our friendship?" Harry finished.

"And they say men and women can't communicate." I joked, trying desperately to relieve the building anxiety. "Yeah, exactly. I didn't want to jinx it—our friendship, I mean."

"So…do you…like…me?" Harry asked.

If my head could've burst into flames it would have. Why does this have to be so complicated? Ah, the great life question—the complexities of life and love—brought to by the letter "C" for "Christ Almighty". I did like Harry, but just how even I didn't know. He was my best friend at Hogwarts—hell, my best friend, period. I hadn't thought of us in a romantic context until all this V-day crap happened and now I didn't know what to think. Can you actually see yourself kissing Harry? Hmmm…good question.

What happened next I can't begin to explain. It was like my brain had turned off and someone (or thing) had possessed me. Without warning I leaned across the table and kissed him. It caught Harry even more off guard—both his hands flew off the table in shock and his eyes went as big as hubcaps. After a few seconds, I pulled myself back into my chair and stared at him. His mouth was hanging open in shock

Harry blinked for a moment. "What—the—hell—"

My mind and my body became one and the same again and before I could do anything else stupid I suddenly sprang out of my seat and bolted for the door.

"Reggie!"

I sprinted down Main Street knocking over fellow pedestrians and sliding in the melting snow as I went. I didn't know if Harry was behind me and quite frankly, I didn't give a crap. I needed to get back to Hogwarts—back to my bed—back to sleep where surely I would wake up tomorrow and this will have all been some twisted dream. It wasn't until I'd reached the stone archway that I gave a cry.

"Regina Anne Bradshaw you are the world's biggest idiot!" I screamed. I pounded my fists against the wall and kicked at it—as if attacking the castle would somehow make the rancid feeling in my stomach go away.

"I…don't know…I've seen…bigger idiots…" a voice panted behind me.

I spun around and found myself face to face with a very red-faced Harry. He had clearly sprinted behind me the whole way up. He was wearing a half grin as he tried to catch his breath.

"Harry, I'm so—"

"Forget it," Harry said, finally standing up straight.

"Forget what! I was totally out of line!" I spun around to escape into the castle, but Harry grabbed my sleeve before I could run again.

"No, Reg! Will you just hang on for a minute?" Harry said in an exasperated tone.

I huffed and turned back. "Alright, but say it quick. It'll take me awhile to climb the North Tower so I can throw myself off it. As long as it's still light Hagrid should be able to mop up my remains…"

Harry shook his head, "You're impossible sometimes, do you know that?"

"Is this your idea of a pick me up?" I asked.

"Look, you didn't give me a chance to say anything after—well, back there." I winced as he spoke, "—But now that you've stopped running like an idiot we can talk about it."

I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms, "Look, Harry. I just…did it…without thinking, like I do everything else. I didn't know what I was doing, but…" I trailed off. Why can't I run off and lament like a normal teenager right now?

"Was it that bad?" Harry asked.

"No." I muttered and looked up at him as I kicked at a lump of snow, "You could stop grinning like an idiot at me, you know."

"I've just never seen you so worked up over anything," Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, well…you should see me at a Yankee's game," I muttered, but a smile was spreading across my face. I looked from the ground back to Harry's face. There wasn't anger, resentment, or confusion—it was Harry looking at me as he'd always done. Like I was crazy, but he was sticking around anyways.

"Are we gonna be alright?" He asked.

I sighed, "Yeah, I guess."

"You're not expecting flowers from me or anything?"

"Do you want me to hex you?"

Harry laughed, "We definitely couldn't date."

"And why is that, Mr. Potter?" I asked, my sarcastic tone slowly creeping in.

"You're way too neurotic for me."

We proceeded to pelt snowballs at each other for twenty minutes.

Later that night, Ron and Hermione finally caught up with us in the common room. We all shared our days, but neither Harry nor I discussed our ordeal at the Three Broomsticks. It was something we would carry to our graves—a conditioned we'd settled on after our little snow war. We had tested the relationship waters and survived in tact—a feat few could boast—and if anything our friendship seemed stronger. Harry was snapping back with biting sarcasm of his own and we even joked about picking china patterns. I retorted by chucking a pillow cushion at him.

Finally, around 1am, we started getting tired enough to make our ways to bed. Hermione and I trudged up the stairs to find Lavender and Parvati already sleeping. We quietly slipped into our pajamas and made our way to the washroom where Hermione finally cornered me.

"Well?" she demanded.

I rolled my eyes. "You got me Hermione. He proposed and I'm having his baby."

Hermione choked on her toothbrush. Now it was my turn to stifle a laugh. "I'm kidding, Hermione. It wasn't a date."

"Really?" she said after spitting into the sink, "Because that's not what Ron and I heard."

"Really?" Now it was my turn to sound skeptical, "And what did you and Ron hear?"

"Oh, we just heard about your little public display of affection in the Three Broomsticks." She smiled, "Reg, everyone was there. Did you really think that you and Harry could just cover it up and pretend it didn't happen?"

I stuck my tongue out at her, "Oh, boo hoo. We already talked about it—we're cool."

"And?"

We were back in the main room again and slipping under the covers, but Hermione sat straight up in bed waiting for an answer. I settled myself under the covers and turned to her.

"It means we're still friends. Only friends. Period." I stated.

"Alright then," Hermione said. I turned over and lay on my pillow. "Friends who kiss." Hermione hissed into the night.

"Shut up." I hissed back.

I couldn't help but smile.