A/N: Maybe I should just stop announcing when I'm going to post—it seems to never be on that day. :Laughs: Oh, I've been spelling Abbott wrong for about… ever. I've been forgetting the other B. Now I feel stupid.
Lock and Key
Chapter 24
Harry and Hermione's night had been splendid. They lied in the grass for most all of the time, staring up at the heavens. They chattered with absurd, expected ease as they stayed in one another's arms and ate Hermione's entire set of confections. During a few moments they said nothing at all, and on other numerous occasions, they became engrossed with each other's lips. They grudgingly returned to Gryffindor Tower at eleven o'clock, just having missed the Ravenclaw prefects. (Harry had been wise to stash his Cloak in a corner on his initial visit to change the room). They kissed goodnight under the Cloak right outside the Fat Lady's portrait and then made their way inside. Hermione went to bed feeling like the most fortunate witch at Hogwarts; his gift had connected them on an even deeper level and had helped remove a huge portion of her insecurities. Harry went to bed with a smile plastered on his face. He felt he had done an excellent job in satisfying Hermione.
It was good Harry had enjoyed himself, because he paid severely for averting his detention. Snape only said one sentence to him during Potions ("Potter, stay when the class dismisses"), and Harry knew he was in for it. No one showed up Severus Snape without getting his or hers in the end. Harry walked stiffly up to the desk after everyone else had gone, under Snape's horrible, fixed stare.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor," the teacher said in a voice little more than a whisper and full of menace, "Detention for a month, every night."
"But, but I have Quidditch practices, and my… lessons, and—" Harry interrupted.
"Then you will serve your detention at five o'clock in the morning if need be!" Snape growled, his face twisting with fury, "Do you understand me Potter!"
"Yes," the boy spat.
"Rest assured I will be reporting your blatant disregard for my authority to the headmaster. Now get out of my sight before I do something I will come to regret!"
"I shouldn't have gotten the detention in the first place." Harry grumbled, stalking off.
"What did you say?" hissed Snape.
"Nothing at all, sir." Harry left, agitated in the very least. He could probably escape the torturous future in store for him if he went to Dumbledore and explained Snape's ludicrous reasoning behind the original detention, but he would not. Somehow, that'd make matters even worse.
Harry told Ron and Hermione about his position at lunch. Ron pitied him, but also admired his nerve to outright disobey Snape. Hermione was slightly upset with him but nothing more. It was hard to berate Harry for his actions when he had done them in order to spend time with her. Harry's second blow of the day came after the DA meeting and before his detention: Ron admitted to him that he had sent Hermione a valentine.
"I… thought it'd be, nice," he justified, nervously rubbing his arm. Well, Harry was getting his wish, but suddenly didn't want it anymore.
The two remaining weeks of February faded into the beginning of March. Harry and Hermione had been together for three months and had still yet to tell anyone. It seemed that with more time, the prospect only became more frightening. For Ron's 18th birthday, the DA threw him a party, which he loved. The refreshments were provided by the school's kitchens, The Three Broomsticks, and Honeydukes (via Seamus and Harry). Dean made the tall Keeper drink a little firewhiskey, ignoring Hermione's screams of protest, since he was now allowed to drink. When four of the Gryffindor seventh year boys were about to climb into bed on March first, Ron came bursting into the room looking entirely stunned. He babbled to them how Luna had bombarded and then kissed him- this kept the five up for another hour.
After Valentine's Day, which deepened their relationship, Hermione and Harry found even more time, and places, to snog; they made a point to. The snogs had also become more passionate. The two teenagers managed to run away often (before or after Harry's unavoidable, nightly punishment) to their various spots: the Astronomy Tower, Head Room, Room of Requirement, deserted classrooms, behind the greenhouses, in the locker room, in dark corners with no one present, the tunnel to Hogsmeade, and the prefects' bathroom. They had also taken to looking at one another more regularly when surrounded by others, though they broke the connection before it carried on too long.
Draco Malfoy's suspicion of Harry and Hermione did not falter; in fact, it became stronger. He was now quite certain the two were hiding something from all of their moronic associates. Did no one else notice the way they looked at each other, or the fact that they seemed to be in one another's company more than usual, and that they were somewhat distant to the people around them? How dense were the Gryffindors! If Malfoy didn't know any better, he would say that Harry Hermione were going out.
The sole child of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy was not the only one to notice Harry and Hermione's strange behavior; Ron had started to pick up on it as well. His two best friends were acting… differently. They could be found conversing amongst themselves a vast amount of time as if they wanted no one to interrupt them, but the biggest thing was that they were missing in action quite a bit. Ron began to truly observe this when Harry told him about his old absences and how they were actually training sessions. (The redhead had been taken aback and sympathetic). Harry was the one normally gone, but Hermione would only stay a short while before leaving herself, presumably to study or deal with her Head duties. Sometimes Ron wouldn't see either of them until they walked back into whatever room he was in, together. Some days, when he was avidly talking to someone else, they would tell him they were going to the DA meeting early to prepare.
Ron didn't entirely know what to think. Perhaps he was overanalyzing the whole situation… perhaps he was scrutinizing pointlessly. Harry did have real detention every night now, Quidditch, and the DA, and Hermione was Head Girl and a workaholic. The only fact Ron was certain of was that he felt left out at times. Whether or not his friends were keeping something secret was yet to be proven.
"Hogsmeade is on Saturday." Ron gladly remarked, the breeze running through his flaming hair.
"Good. It'll be nice to have butterbeer again." Harry said lazily, arms on his knees. It was lunch and the trio sat near the lake on a pleasant, brisk, March day. They had visited Hagrid not ten minutes beforehand.
"Yes. Ron, perhaps you should take Luna for one." Hermione said, from behind her book. (Tedious Transfiguration: NEWT Level).
"What?" he questioned.
"You know," she prompted, lowering the tome and smiling, "On your date." Ron tore up grass in response, narrowing his eyes.
"Don't tell me you're not going to ask her!" Hermione said.
"You two kissed!" Harry exclaimed.
"She kissed me!" defended Ron.
"Honestly, I don't get you! You went with her in December!" she argued.
"You told me she was pretty, and you said she's not as off as she once was," added Harry.
"She is! And she's not!" Ron claimed.
"Then stop acting stupid, Ron, and ask Luna to Hogsmeade," Hermione commanded, reading again, "I don't know why you won't just give her a chance." Ron looked at her (or rather the front of her book), glanced at Harry, then stared at the water.
Harry found himself in Potions not too long after and facing an extremely arduous class assignment.
"You will be devising your very own potion," Snape informed smugly to the bewildered faces, "It will make up ¼ of your grade. You will be working in pairs in order to lessen the possibility of mistakes, though I do not have my hopes up," His eyes fell on Harry, "There are specific and detailed regulations set for creating your serum, and any deviation from them will result in a significant, lower mark. You will find my expectations on the board." Snape indifferently waved his wand and words appeared. His pupils began to immediately copy them onto parchment.
"I would prefer your potion to be lethal," the professor told them. Harry silently snorted. Of course Snape would desire something as malevolent as that.
"Sir? Do we choose our own partners?" Sandra Mack, one of Hermione's roommates, pondered. His gaze shot to her.
"Five points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn, Ms. Mack," Snape noted, "I shall be dividing the class up. In fact, I'll do it right now." Harry grated his teeth as he continued writing. He was bound to get someone terrible, maybe the dumbest person present (whom happened to be Crabbe). No… Snape just read Ernie was with Crabbe…. Daniel was with Terry Boot, Parvati was with Pansy Parkinson, Padma was with Blaise…
"Potter," Harry froze. Snape's voice became silky, "You are with Mr. Malfoy." Pansy, who sat next to Malfoy, giggled when he sneered at Harry. Harry's gaze returned to his parchment only to see his hand was shaking from sheer aggravation. He might as well not even do the ruddy project; with Malfoy as his partner, he was ensured to fail. They would most likely kill each other before the third day! Harry didn't know whom he despised more, Snape, or Malfoy.
He performed well that night when dueling with Tonks. All he had to do was visualize the two people who constantly made his life at Hogwarts miserable. Harry had luckily served his detention two hours before his lesson so he could return to Gryffindor Tower before ten o'clock, but that didn't mean he could go to bed. He was beyond tired but could not go to sleep: he had far too much homework to work on. His friends joined him, Hermione doing so joyously and Ron, resentfully. (She went to bed 120 minutes before they did). The next day in Transfiguration, Hermione asked Harry if they could study for NEWTs.
"I can't today," he responded, "We have Quidditch practice at 6:30, and then I've got my God awful detention after that."
"Only one more week left, mate." Ron optimistically said.
"Harry…" she began, frowning.
"I know- we have to study! We can… do it tomorrow!" he rationalized.
"There's a DA meeting," stated Ron.
"And you have detention," she reminded.
"So I'll… I'll… serve it at 5:30 in the morning!" Harry resolved, throwing out an arm in frustration.
"Harry!" cried Hermione, alarmed.
"Well I've got to find a way somehow to make time for everything!"
When Harry returned to the locker room after practice that night, he found a note from Hermione inside his compartment. She wanted him to meet her in the Head Room when he had completed his punishment for Snape.
"See you in the common room later then, yeah?" Ron wondered, walking over to him.
"Uh, yeah," Harry confirmed, crumbling up the request, "Listen, maybe you should study a bit to appease Hermione."
"I suppose… but don't expect any miracles."
Harry spent two laborious hours sanitizing disgusting, vile jars for the Potions master, but after that he zipped over to the Head Room. He was worn out yet again, but seeing Hermione would counter some of that. She was on one of the sofas when he entered, immersed in notes. Consequently, they were quickly forgotten when she saw Harry. He fell onto the couch and put his head in her lap. He vented about all of the things he had to deal with, how there weren't enough hours in the day, and how much he missed sleep.
"Tired, are you?" she inquired.
"Knackered," corrected Harry.
"I'm sorry I keep pestering you about studying," Hermione said, stroking his hair, "I forget how much you have on your plate."
"You have a lot too and you manage just fine," he observed. He idly hit the orb on her necklace.
"Yes, but I'm not captain, don't have draining meetings with Aurors, and am not being tormented by Professor Snape every night," she mused, "You know… I could help you with your load."
"Really?"
"Yes. I can plan out the DA meetings- you know, the lesson plan. I mean, you can obviously look them over and add certain things, but it'll free up some of your time."
"You'd do that?" Harry wondered.
"Of course." Hermione assured, continuing to play in his hair.
"Thanks 'Mione."
"Don't call me that," she smiled, kissing him on the forehead.
"I'll need all the time I can get so I can work on this stupid assignment for Potions. It's the single, most difficult thing I've ever seen and it's with Malfoy! Snape is just evil," he explained bitterly.
"I'm so sorry Harry," Hermione grinned sadly, "If I could help you with that, I would."
"Well, you can help me forget about it."
"How?"
"By kissing me."
"Typical," she mentioned, obliging nonetheless. There was no fire to cackle in the hearth as they continued kissing each other. His left hand grazed the back of her neck, and her necklace hung somewhere dangerously near his closed eyes.
"Sorry," Hermione apologized, laughing against his lips, "Maybe you should sit up."
"Maybe." Harry concurred, sitting up so rapidly it caught her off guard. He lifted one knee on the sofa and put his arms on either side of her, moving until her back came in contact with the right arm. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they commenced kissing again. After 12 weeks, the fact that Hermione could kiss Harry still excited. Harry removed his lips from hers and placed them on her neck. Oh no… he was going there. He traced small kisses everywhere, including her collarbone (which made her inhale sharply), before going in for the heavy-duty work. He chose a spot on the side of her throat and began to suckle it. It wasn't fair; he knew of her tender site but she had yet to learn his. Hermione's fingers vanished in his black tresses as she began to lose herself. Sometime after Harry had started, two minutes to be precise, she dazedly came out of her reverie.
"Harry," she moaned, "Maybe you… should…" Hermione wanted to say 'stop', but it fell away when she felt his tongue. She shut up and closed her eyes, letting him go on with his task.
When Harry got back to his dormitory, he was surprised to see his roommates still awake, though all dressed in their pajamas.
"Harry," Ron grinned, "Come hear the good news!"
"What?" he responded, sitting on his bed and slowly removing his shoes.
"Tell 'em Longbottom; it's your news." Seamus chirpily instructed. Neville was a tad red, but smiling.
"I, er…," he began, "I'm… going out with Hannah."
"Really? Since when?" Harry asked, now a little more alert.
"Today." Dean answered.
"Have you always fancied her?"
"Well, since fifth year, right about Christmas. Before that, I f-faniced Hermione, you know…" Neville said. Yes, he had told Ron and Harry last year that he had been entranced with Hermione from years two to four.
"I'm glad for you Neville." Harry remarked.
"Thanks Harry," the once chubby boy smiled.
"So Ron, not going out with Luna yet?" smirked Seamus.
"No," he shot back.
"Why not? She likes you, doesn't she? I don't see the problem." Dean commented.
"Yeah, you're the only one without a girlfriend Ron." Harry casually stated without thinking, slipping his bed shirt over his head. His four friends stared at him. He gazed back, uncertain as to their expressions, and then it sunk in. Great going genius!, he screamed at himself.
"The only one?" repeated Dean.
"Hiding something from us, are you Harry?" Seamus chuckled.
"Yeah, what about you," Ron wondered. His face was easily the most baffled, "You aren't going out with anyone!"
"No, no… of course I'm not," Harry hurriedly started, "I meant that you're the only one out of those three without someone! I-I wasn't including myself."
"Oh," nodded Neville. Seamus stretched his arms, groaning loudly.
"Anyone want a quick game of Exploding Snap?" he proposed. Ron looked inquisitively at Harry for a moment longer before turning and agreeing. Harry sighed as he went to pull his curtains around him, still scolding himself for what he had blurted out.
Hermione was habitually the first girl awake in her dormitory each morning, and the next day proved no different. She made her mandatory pilgrimage to the bathroom and glanced in the mirror as she lathered her toothbrush with toothpaste. Crookshanks came sauntering in as Hermione gasped, dropped her toothbrush, and lunged at the mirror. There, on her neck—something terribly visible. It was rather large, and not attractive. It… it was a hickey. Hermione began to whine, tracing it with her fingers. Oh, curse Harry! He had done this to her! She knew last night she had wanted him to cease; she had tried to resist him. (Neither argument was entirely true, but she did not need to reason at the moment).
Why had she let him defile her throat like that? Why! For one, it felt good, a voice told her, and two, because he's Harry and you let him get away with everything.
"I do not!" she hissed. Because he's Harry…. That seemed to be the answer for everything lately. Hermione first learned of hickeys at eleven, and had thought no self-respecting female, or person, would allow anyone to leave such a hideous mark on their body. Now here she was, six years later, with that same hideous mark. Hermione knew she could get rid of it with make-up, or even better, magic, but she wanted the giver to get a good look at it first. Deeply irritated, she tried to brush her teeth once more.
Hermione sat in a chair with her hand covering her hickey, waiting for Harry to come down on his way to breakfast. Ron had already left, telling her he was too ravenous to wait for them. She had looked at him, annoyed, and said nothing in return. (Far from ravenous he was. It simply boiled down to him being greedy). Harry finally came into the common room with Dean and Neville ten minutes after Ron's departure.
"Harry," she stated, standing up. He looked over to the sound of her voice and smiled, "I need to talk to you." Harry followed Hermione to one of the corners of the room, interested.
"What's up?" he pondered, noticing how she was cradling her throat.
"Nothing up, but rather on," she replied.
"Huh?"
"You left this on my neck!" Hermione took her hand away and Harry couldn't help but grin.
"A hickey!" he noted.
"Yes, a hickey!" she concurred, clearly angry.
"That's wicked!"
"No it is not!"
"Yes it is. It's sort of like a… trademark." Harry smiled. Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded and with growing indignation. Harry thought she was awfully cute in this state.
"What would people think if they knew the Head Girl let some, some… some boy suck her neck!" she demanded, eyes flashing. Harry would have kissed her to calm her down, but they were in the common room.
"So I'm just a boy now?" he questioned.
"Look! Don't turn-"
"Okay, okay, I apologize! I'm sorry, really," Harry said, not wanting her voice to rise, "But if you don't want me kissing—"
"Sucking." Hermione retorted.
"Right. Well, doing that to your neck in the future, then… you might as well have no neck, because I can't help it." She looked at him with an expression a little less than a glare before averting her eyes.
"You're lucky I know my charms," she grumbled, a smile creeping onto her face. Harry grinned.
Ron caved in at last and had the decency to ask Luna to Hogsmeade on Friday; she accepted, naturally.
"This doesn't mean we're going out," he assured his friends.
Harry was looking forward to spending another village trip alone with Hermione, but when Severus Snape approached the Gryffindor table during breakfast on Saturday morning, Harry should have guessed something was wrong. Most of the hall watched with fascination, but the lions were acutely frightened. They all instinctively bowed their heads and ignored his sadistic smile.
"Potter," he began, stopping near the trio and Ginny. She moved down a bit.
"Wh—uh… yes?" Harry said, eyeing Snape apprehensively.
"You will not be serving your detention tonight."
"R-Really?" he wondered, brightening.
"Instead, you will serve it at noon," the professor informed, smirking. Ron's mouth opened and Hermione looked appalled.
"B-But! But Hogs—" Harry initiated.
"Meade? Yes…. It appears as if you will not be attending, doesn't it?" With that, Snape walked away. Much of the table gazed at Harry, whether it had heard the exchange or not.
"Harry, that is absolutely unfair! Go to Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione urged obstinately.
"Yeah, he can't do that! Just up and tell you the day of!" supported Ron.
"Well, he just did," Harry sourly remarked, "There's not much I can do about it."
At eleven, Hermione and Harry were walking around the grounds. (Ron was in the common room trying to get last minute homework completed).
"So you're really not going to try and fight him?" she asked as they passed Hagrid's hut.
"It'll be worthless, Hermione, you know that. This is Snape we're talking about," he told her, sighing.
"I'll be on my own…"
"No you won't. You can go with Ginny."
"She'll be with Colin. All of my friends will be with their boyfriends, and mine will be here."
"Not of his own free will." Harry spat, though the anger wasn't meant for her. There was silence before Hermione revealed:
"Then I'll just stay at the castle."
"No, don't do that," he replied, squeezing her hand lovingly.
"Why not?"
"Because people might get suspicious."
"And?" she demanded.
"And I don't want you to be bored just because of me. You haven't been to Hogsmeade since before Christmas—it'll be good." Harry said.
"I've been enough times to last a lifetime! And I won't be bored!"
"But we won't even be able to be with each other! I'll be Snape's servant for eons, and I've got a lesson with the git. There's no escaping him," The two ceased walking and were now by the greenhouses, "Hermione, please just go." She gazed at him before relenting, though exhaling crossly.
"Fine." Hermione agreed. She checked to make sure no one was nearby, kissed him on the lips, and then left him alone.
Hogsmeade turned out to be all right. Ron had an amiable time with Luna and Hermione indeed spent her time with Ginny. (Colin opted to stay with his friends for which both witches were grateful). Harry's time at Hogwarts was nowhere near as enjoyable, and the trio's study "party" that night at seven only worsened the deal. However, his impromptu snog with Hermione made the day "okay" instead of "dreadful".
On Sunday, Harry prepared to enter the pit of snakes: he had his first meeting with Malfoy regarding their potion. Ron, truly sympathetic towards his friend, offered to go to the library as well and sit a few tables away in case Harry needed backup, but he declined. At five minutes until six o'clock, Harry departed for the library, hoping to die accidentally along the way.
"You're late Potter." Malfoy pointed out when Harry found him sitting in close proximity of the restricted section.
"By two minutes," he answered.
"Like I said—you're late." Harry shook his head and roughly sat down, taking out supplies.
"It's due in two weeks, you know. We really should have begun sooner," the blonde lectured.
"You're the one who came to me on Friday and demanded we meet today, almost a full week after we received the assignment!"
"Don't put this on me Potter!"
"And don't put it on me, Malfoy!" A resounding, "Quiet!" then came drifting over to them, although Madam Pince was nowhere in sight. They went through a few minutes of furious, silent page turning and glares before Harry commented:
"We need to find out—"
"It's going to be lethal." Malfoy shortly cut in.
"Okay, but—"
"And I was thinking of calling it, 'Malfoy's Mayhem'," he smiled arrogantly. Malfoy's Mayhem? Over Harry's dead body!
"Since you have all the answers, what does it do?" Harry asked, arms crossed and glowering.
"First, you lose your hearing. Then, you go blind. And when you finally begin to panic and lose all hope, your heart just stops," Malfoy described quietly, eyes shining with cold delight. Harry stared at him, "I wonder how Weasley would react to it." The Gryffindor balled his fists and a spasm of wrath hit his face.
"Fine," he snapped. It was a great idea, and it'd be wiser to work with Malfoy's ideas when trying to do a project for Snape, but Harry would admit neither, "Do you have the ingredients for it? Or anything else, like the antidote?"
"Now Potter, that's why we're here isn't it? To research related potions and figure it out that way," the Slytherin smiled, his voice portraying that he was speaking to a five year old. Harry growled and shot up from the table, going to fetch a book to keep him from hexing the Head Boy.
Thirty minutes later, when some of the vexation was gone and Harry sat writing the (possible) effects of too much or too little of their serum, Malfoy started to chuckle.
"I doubt there's anything funny in the ingredients." Harry brusquely said.
"No…" Malfoy confirmed.
"Well then d'you mind shutting up?" A minute later the Slytherin asked:
"Do you want to know what's so humorous Potter?"
"Not really!" Harry said through clenched teeth.
"You are." Malfoy went on, smiling. Harry glared at him for a moment before muttering an agitated, "Whatever". Another three minutes crawled by before the Head Boy spoke up once more.
"Don't they say the best relationships start off as friendships?" he wondered, leaning back and twirling his lavish quill.
"Are you actually going to work!" the Gryffindor Seeker inquired, slamming his own quill down.
"Well, don't they? Just answer that."
"I-I don't know!" Harry declared, becoming livid. What on Earth was his rival going on about! Malfoy smirked and returned to his textbook.
"I heard a rumor the other day," he mentioned, writing something.
"Good for you—I don't care." Harry told him. Why in Merlin's name was Malfoy speaking to Harry? It was beginning to unnerve the Potter boy.
"You should. It's about Granger." Malfoy commented. Harry glanced at him, though said nothing.
"Apparently some dolt in another House fancies her," the blonde continued, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye, "Can you believe that? Is it not the most revolting lie you've ever heard? Who in his right mind would like someone as low as Granger? It's a sick joke. Even to contemplate the possibility—"
"Shut up!" growled Harry, breaking his writing utensil in half. Some of the books on the shelves around them vehemently flew out of their places, crashing to the ground. Malfoy sat up, shocked by the outburst of magic, but pressed on.
"I'm sorry Potter. Did I upset you?" he remarked, eyes showing excitement and fear.
"I swear, if you say one more word about Hermione, Malfoy, I'll—"
"Getting a little sensitive, aren't we?"
"She's my friend!" Harry snarled. His wand suddenly rolled across the table, emitting a spark or two.
"Are you sure there's not more to it? Sure the Mudblood's only a friend?" Malfoy pushed, gripping his own wand as a precaution. (He had never seen Potter so riled up). Harry then shot up from his chair, flushing and looking positively infuriated. Before either boy could say or do anything, the librarian came hurtling towards them.
"What is going on here," she demanded, "No excessive magic in the library, and certainly no noise! Wha—are those books lying on the floor! I knew there was a surge of magic!" Before Pince's rant could go on, Harry snatched his bag and wand, and rushed from the room.
A/N: Dude. This has been the longest chapter I've ever written, no joke. And I was forced to remove a scene and put it in the next chapter, and it's still quite lengthy! It's madness I tell you, MADNESS! Anyway, I don't know if British kids say 'hickey', but if not, they do in this story.