"Of all forms of caution, caution in love is perhaps the most fatal to true happiness."
–Bertrand Russell
Along with having that Hogsmeade visit canceled, the students were displeased to hear that all visits would be canceled indefinitely. The Gryffindor students crowded around the message board to read the bulletin, grumbling to the people around them. Hermione sat in a chair by the fireplace with Harry and Ron, leisurely reading a book as the other two scrambled to finish an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts that was due the next morning.
"I know I've beaten this into both of your heads, but why didn't you just do it when you first got it, like normal people do?"
"Because," Ron said as he flipped through his textbook, "we've had Quidditch practice. Our first game is on Saturday." He stopped turning the pages and looked at the other students, annoyed. "I don't why they're so surprised. It was kind of obvious that You-Know-Who would rise again. I mean, after what happened at the end of last year, it was only - OW!"
Hermione glared at Ron, who rubbed his shin. "That was completely unnecessary," he snapped.
"Harry doesn't need to hear about last year again, you dolt."
"He's fine. Honestly, you are so overprotective."
"I am not; you are just insensitive to Harry feelings."
"Harry's still in the room, so you don't need to talk as if he isn't," Harry interjected.
Hermione blushed slightly. "Sorry."
Ron stood up. "I can't take all the noise in here; I'm going to go to the library. I'll see you at Quidditch practice, Harry." He took his roll of parchment and left the common room.
"Hermione, could you do me a favor and read over my paper, just to check for mistakes?" Harry asked.
"Of course. Let me see it." He handed it to her and sat back in his chair. Hermione's eyes quickly scanned over the words. She glanced up and saw Harry looking at her, a look of indecision on his face. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Harry looked a bit startled. "No," he replied quickly.
"Are you sure?"
"Do you know if Ginny is dating anyone?" Harry blurted out.
"What?" Hermione put down Harry's essay and sat up. "Where did that come from?"
Harry's face turned deep scarlet. "Well, I know that you and Ginny have become good friends, so I assumed that you would know if she did or not."
"I got that part; I'm just surprised that you would want to know. Why, do you like her?"
"No. I'm just looking out for her. I don't want her mixing with a bad guy... she's like a sister... and um..."
"You like Ginny!" Hermione smiled.
"Will you keep your voice down? I don't want the whole house to know, thank you very much." He glanced around as if the room had suddenly turned silent and everyone was listening in on the conversation.
"Well, she hasn't said anything to me about a new boyfriend. But, you know she kind of lost interest in you after the whole Cho thing."
"Oh, right." Harry face sunk a little bit.
"But what I do now is that right about now, she should be reading a book by the lake. She likes how quiet it is out there. You should be able to catch her." Hermione smiled at him again.
Harry scrambled out of his chair and rushed to the portrait hole. "Thanks so much, Hermione; you're the best," he called after him.
She picked up his essay and sat back in her chair. "Boys."
She walked past their hallway. (No, there was no more their anything) A hand grasped her arm and pulled her into the shadows. "We have to talk," he said. He took her to the room where they (used to) explored each others' bodies. A simple bed, a few candles, a window through which she could see black clouds and rain pouring down; all of it brought back memories she struggled to push away. "I miss you."
She pulled her arm from his hold. "Don't you dare," she hissed. "We had conditions, I wanted to break them, you didn't; end of story." Her voice was curt, and her eyes cold. She was trying beyond all reason not to jump into his arms and kiss him, to finish what they started those few weeks ago. Every time she saw him in the halls, every time she woke from a memory of them together she wanted him back. "We each want different things and neither of us is willing to change."
"I know that you miss me, too," he said softly. "I can feel your eyes across the tables in the Great Hall and in the corridors."
"That doesn't matter. I can't be with someone who can't even tell his best friends about us. They would understand."
"Not those two. As much as I love you they wouldn't. They don't get that love doesn't look at which House you're in."
"Will you stop that!" she screamed.
"Stop what?"
"Saying that you love me. It's a lie."
His face fell. "How can you even say that? Of course it's not a lie."
"If you loved me we wouldn't be sneaking around at night in darkened corridors. We would be down by the lake together, or walking together through the halls; at least being seen in the day light with each other."
"You think I like it being this way? I don't. I would much rather be able to tell everyone about us than keep this bottled up inside." He walked over to her and put a hand on her face. "I can take care of myself, but I can't live with the thought of someone hurting you. I love you too much to let anything happen."
Merlin's beard, she'd missed the simple pleasures of having him touch her.
"I love you, too," she whispered, tears escaping her eyes.
And she was in his arms and they were kissing, and dear lord she missed how good this felt. She didn't care if anyone knew, she didn't care if she died with no one knowing they had been together; all she cared about was having him with her, in every way. She pulled off the robes that hindered her movements. She felt the desire and passion emanating from him; hers was just as intense. His mouth traveled all along her neck. His hands found their way beneath her shirt, traveled along her upper body, knowing exactly how and where to touch her.
It wasn't nearly enough. They were on the bed, with the full length of her body pressed beneath him. Their shirts were unbuttoned, and they slipped silently to the floor. She ran her hands along his taunt, creamy flesh, delighting in it's familiar feel. His lips moved down from her neck, over her chest, gently grazing her soft skin, kissing her stomach. She entangled her fingers in his hair as he slipped off her skirt.
His lips traveled back up her stomach, chest and neck, and he looked into her eyes. He kissed her lips, his tongue darting quickly between them. "I love you so much."
She didn't him to tell her that, she wanted him to show her. She let her legs fall open in an unneeded invitation and kissed him again. He unfastened his pants, and they became another pile on the floor. She could feel him against her, and she moaned and shivered in wondrous anticipation. The only thing between the two of them was a layer of flimsy cloth.
As his lips kissed her neck and chest with a skillful ease, his hands made their way down her body to remove that final hindrance.
For the love the founders, she could not believe how much she had missed him.
Harry ran to the lake, searching its shore for Ginny. The rain that had been coming down had ceased; it's moist smell still hung in the air. After a few moments of searching, he spotted her coming out of the castle. Trying to catch his breath and hoping that his face wasn't too flushed, he walked over to her with his best saunter.
But feelings welled up in his chest and before he could stop, Harry found himself yelling. "Hey, Ginny, over here!" and waving his arms over his head.
That's it, Potter, he thought to himself, don't look too much like a complete idiot.
But as Ginny turned to him, he saw a smile on her face, and he felt a little bit better.
"Hey there, Harry. I didn't expect to see you out here."
"Yes well, it was so nice out I decided to take a little walk."
"It's been raining for the past five hours."
"Err... I like to go walking in the rain. It makes me feel so... alive and refreshed."
Ginny gave him an unimpressed side glance but didn't say anything. They made their way over to the tree that Harry, Ron and Hermione usually sat under to study on nice days. After about thirty seconds of awkward and uncomfortable silence, Harry piped in with an attempt at conversation.
"I see you have a book. Are you reading it?" Stupidstupidstupid.
"Uh... yes. That's what I usually do with a book. I like to sit outside and read; it's just so peaceful." They settled themselves under the tree and looked out at the lake for a moment, in which the giant squid was lazily skimming the water.
"So, what are you reading?" Harry asked, desperate not to look like a complete and utter moron.
"Just an old muggle book," Ginny replied, looking at the tattered paper back in her hands. "It's called The Giver. It's quite good; I think you'd like it, too." She looked down at his hands. "What are you reading?"
"Oh, nothing really. Just catching up on something I never got a chance to finish. I like to read outside, too."
"In the rain?" she asked, throwing Harry a skeptical look. She took the book from his hands, and her fingers brushed his; Harry could feel a heat rising in his stomach. "Quidditch Through the Ages?"
He stared at her blankly for a moment, scanning his mind for a cover story as Ginny handed the book back. "It is, but... I never really got chance to read it in it's entirety, so, you know."
She smiled at him, shaking her head slightly, and opened her own book. For the next ten or fifteen minutes they sat in silence; Ginny reading her book; Harry pretending to, glancing up to stare at her every thirty seconds or so.
Harry's eyes wandered over the words in his book without reading them, and amidst their wandering they fell onto his watch.
"It's almost time for quidditch practice; I have to go change." He closed his book and scrambled to his feet.
"I should get ready, too," Ginny said, putting her book into her side bag. Harry grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet.
For a moment, he thought of telling her exactly how he felt, right then and there. But instead he said, "I'll catch up to you at the locker room; I have to go and find... McGonagall."
"Alright. See you there, Harry." She turned and started walking to the castle.
Harry waited until she was out of sight, then he turned and slammed his head against the tree trunk. "Oh good going, Potter," he said aloud to himself. "I'm sure she was overly impressed with that performance Let's just hope that I didn't make it any worse." He sighed and rolled his neck, the rough bark rubbing against his forehead. "Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid!" With every word he struck the tree with his head.
Sighing again, he pushed away from the tree, rubbing his forehead. When he turned around he saw a small gaggle of first years staring at him, eyes wide.
"What!" he snapped.
They gasped and scurried up the path to the castle.
Harry picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. As he did so, he felt a drop of water land on the back of his neck. Looking upward, he saw the sky had become grayer, and raindrops speckled his glasses. Still rubbing his forehead and now in a thoroughly unhappy mood, he walked through the rain to the Quidditch pitch.
Ginny, Ron, and Harry walked into the common room wet, muddy, and with a gloomy look on their faces. Hermione looked up from the book she was reading as they all sunk into chairs by the fire. "I'll venture a guess and say that this practice wasn't the best?"
Ron just looked at her. "I'm awful. I couldn't keep a quaffle from going in to save my life." He wiped at the mud caked on his face. "Why did you ever put me on the team, Harry?"
"Because I know you're a great Keeper. All you have to do is have confidence in yourself. And not fall apart when someone watches you play."
"I couldn't if I wanted to."
"For heaven's sake, Ron," Ginny snapped, "I'm sick of your attitude! Harry's trying to help you, and you just sit there and act like you're the only one who's ever had a tough time."
"I'm sorry, but not everyone can have athletic ability like yours."
"Oh, come off it. I practice. When I have trouble getting something, instead of whining like a little girl, I work until I get it."
Ron opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "I'm going to take a shower." To Hermione and Harry she said, "I'll see you guys in the morning." And with that she walked out of the common room.
When she was through the portrait hole, Ron let out a sigh. "She's been so touchy lately; I have no idea what's wrong with her." He looked pointedly at Hermione.
"Don't make that face at me; she hasn't told me anything."
"Sometimes girls are just like that," Harry chimes in. "No offence to you Hermione; Cho was all over with her emotions a lot of the time."
"I'm too exhausted to worry about it," Ron sighed, pushing himself out of the chair. "I'm going to get cleaned up, too. I'll catch up with you later." Yawning and scratching his head, he left them alone by the fire.
Harry closed his eyes and stretched. When he opened them, Hermione was on the edge of her seat, looking at him expectedly. "Is there, uh, something I can help you with?"
"How did your little accidental run in with Ginny go? I wanted to wait for Ron to leave."
"He already knows. Apparently, only Ginny has no idea." He groaned. "It was awful. If she felt anything before, don't worry, I took care of it. It's long gone."
"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."
"I told her I was reading a new book; Quidditch Through the Ages. Have you heard of it?" He slumped back in his chair.
Hermione smiled. "Aww, that's adorable."
"No," he said quickly, "no it's not. It's embarrassing."
"Not to girls. Or to me it is, at least."
"Oh, well, that helps. A little bit."
"I'll have a word with her. But I can't be too obvious. Although apparently, she's oblivious to everything. Who cares; I get to play matchmaker!" Hermione grinned and giggled.
"And on that note, I'm going to grab a shower, too. I'll see you at breakfast."
"G'night, Harry."
He got up and left Hermione to formulate her love plot for him.