Disclaimer: Bah.
A/N: Okay, I have the plot, but no filler material for the next three chapters! Arrggh! If you have any ideas at all that you want to happen in this story THAT DO NOT AFFECT THE MAIN PLOT, like for example someone to pull a certain prank on a Slytherin (deepest apologies to all Slytherin fans out there :wink:), or anything at all for Harry to be doing over his holidays, I would absolutely love to hear them. Because although he is preoccupied, his life doesn't circulate around dear 'Mione. He does do other things too! I just need to figure out WHAT...
Thank you all for the reviews, I LOVE every one of you to death:D And I hope you know it. Just for those who aren't sure – yes, this is definitely Harry/Hermione. I'm planning on keeping it mostly fluffy and funny, with much less angsty stuff.
Note—if anyone noticed, in this story I placed Ginny still in Hogwarts while Ron is in Romania. Mr and Mrs Weasley decided Ron would get a trip this year, and Ginny would get one next year. Ginny was indignant at first, but grudgingly accepted the fact.
So—what do you all think about the fourteen chapter, one-per-day-of-winter-break thing? PLEASE review and let me know, I'm dying to hear from you. Enjoy! Love you guys:kiss kiss: Ciao!
"So what you're saying is that I fancy her."
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
"But it makes no sense."
"Sure it does. Friends get crushes on other friends all the time."
"It's so cliché."
"Harry, Harry, Harry...your whole life is a cliché."
And now that he thought about it, it was.
Harry was sitting across the table from Seamus at breakfast. He wasn't feeling very well—probably because, like an idiot, he sat outside in the snow for about an hour yesterday. He stared at his plate, pushing the food around on it with his fork. It was bacon and eggs today, among other things. As a certain female entered the Great Hall, Harry suddenly became very interested in his oh-so-delightful bacon and eggs. They were nice and crispy, the way he liked them, and the eggs were sunny-side-up. He knew how to make those. Fifteen years of living with and cooking for the Dursleys had taught him some handy recipes (the wankers always demanded variety and quality). Harry could feel Seamus grin as he caught sight of Hermione.
"Well, well, look who it is," he said, leaning back from the table and grinning wickedly.
"It'll pass, it'll pass, it'll pass..." Harry muttered to himself as she drew nearer.
"Nope, actually, looks like she's gonna sit down right—"
"I meant the crush thing!"
"Oh. Well, it might take a while. You're pretty far gone, mate. G' morning, Hermione!" said Seamus cheerfully as she sat down next to Harry, flicking a wisp of hair out of her eyes and reaching for a piece of toast.
"Good morning, Seamus, Harry. Who's far gone?" she asked as she spread on some jam and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice.
"Harry is," snickered Seamus. Harry looked up and glared at him warningly. Hermione turned to look at him in open curiosity. He shook his head.
"No I'm not, Seamus is just a git."
"An all-knowing git."
"A stupid git. Excuse me, will you? I'm not feeling so well," said Harry, and he promptly stood up and exited the Great Hall.
"Where're you going, Harry?" he heard Hermione call after him, but he just raised a hand without turning around. He knew he had to get his mind off of things. Everywhere he went something reminded him of her, and he needed to get away from that or he would certifiably explode.
Stomping up the stairs from the common room to the boys' dormitories, Harry growled under his breath at the audacity of Seamus. How dare he almost come out and say it, right in front of her! Honestly, the nerve of that boy. Harry abruptly turned and slammed his forehead against the cold stone wall—now he sounded like an old grandmother, cursing a rude teenager. He sighed heavily. Continuing on up the stairs until he reached the sixth level, he thought hard about what he could do to stop himself thinking about Hermione. Really, it was getting slightly out of hand. He'd never been quite this preoccupied about Cho. But then, Cho wasn't one of his best friends whom he had known for five and a half years (wow, that was a long time, now he thought of it) and she wasn't constantly around him.
When he reached the dorm, he flopped down onto his bed and stared up at the dark red canopy above him. He pondered the concept of going back to sleep, but decided that he'd probably end up dreaming about her. Well, not dreaming about her—dreaming dreams that happened to include her but did not specifically feature her, yes.
Sleep was out of the question. What else could he do that didn't involve thinking?
He watched as the light bulb clicked itself on over his head.
Swinging his legs over onto the floor, Harry grabbed his coat and gloves, and opened his trunk at the foot of his bed. Lifting out the Firebolt, he shut the trunk again and headed quickly out of the dorm, down the stairs, and out through the portrait hole. When he got outside he shrugged into his coat, slipped on the gloves, and mounted the broom, kicking off immediately and flying in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.
Zooming around the field, he felt his body leave his thoughts behind and concentrate on soaring over the stands through the biting air. It really had been too long since he'd been on his broom; there were no Quidditch matches over the holidays, and flying was one of the only things he liked doing that didn't involve much mind power other than basic instincts.
He barrel-rolled all the way down the length of the pitch, then righted himself, feeling a bit dizzy, and swerved to the left to circle the goalposts. After about fifteen minutes of flying he thought he saw someone walking towards the stands, and flew down to see who it was. When he reached the spot he'd seen them there was no one. Shrugging, he took off again, only to jump in surprise when another Gryffindor on a broom whizzed past him. Ginny laughed at the look on Harry's face and turned her broom around to face him.
"Don't look so gobsmacked, Harry, you're not the only one who's missed it," she winked. "I couldn't stand staying on the ground any longer when I saw you out the window."
"Heh, yeah. Being out here doesn't help the cold, though."
"Since when have you cared about cold?"
"Since...uh...I don't feel well."
"Why on earth are you out here, then?" Ginny laughed, sticking out her tongue at him and zooming off. Harry rolled his eyes and rocketed after her, letting her stay just a broom's length ahead of him as he chased her around and around the pitch, ducking under the stands and hurtling around the goalposts. Once Ginny lay flat on her broom and actually went through a hoop, then shrieked with delight and did it again. "Go on, Harry, give it a go!" she called. "Just hug your broom and fly straight!"
"Yeah, right. You're smaller than I am, I won't fit through."
"You'll never know until you try!"
Harry sighed heavily, turned his broom around and faced the goalposts. Ginny cheered him on as he leaned down as far as he could and shot forward. He grinned, coming out the other side without a scratch and whirling to chase her again when another person on the ground caught his eye. Squinting, he tried to see who it was, and flew down, slowly this time so as not to lose sight of them. The bushy brown hair and the heavy book—even on holidays—gave them away. Harry pulled up abruptly and groaned to himself. WHY?
Hermione smiled and waved up at him, sitting herself in the stands and taking out what looked like a packed breakfast of toast and a banana. Harry reluctantly lifted his hand in greeting, then turned to fly back over to Ginny and discovered that she'd been right behind him. He nearly fell off his broom in surprise.
"Whassamatter? You look like someone just told you Christmas was cancelled."
"Nope, I'm fit as a fiddle and ready to fly! On three, one—two—three!" Harry chirped, forcedly cheerful, and Ginny took off again, laughing. They played tag for another twenty minutes while Harry kept telling himself that he wasn't preoccupied with the person sitting in the stands. He told himself this about every thirty seconds. Thinking about a person every thirty seconds qualifies as being preoccupied with them. Of course Harry, being Harry, didn't think of this, and so was a bit preoccupied as Ginny caught and tagged him for the millionth time.
"Harry, you've got one of the fastest brooms in the world. How come I keep catching you? Are you letting me win!" she cried in mock outrage. Harry shook his head. "Then what? You seem preoccupied."
"I'm not! I just...didn't eat breakfast."
"But I saw you in the Great Hall."
"I didn't eat anything, just poked at it."
"Why?"
"Wasn't hungry. And I'm not feeling well."
"You are perfectly fine, Mr Potter, stop pretending to be an invalid when you're out here chasing people on flying broomsticks."
"You started it."
"I most certainly did not!"
"Did too. Ah, I'm tired, think I'll head in."
"Oh, come on," Ginny protested as she followed him down to the ground. "I was just getting going, aren't you having fun?"
Harry landed and tucked his broom under his arm, sighing as Ginny did the same and fell into step beside him. He raked his tangled hair back out of his eyes. It was getting long; he might have to cut it soon. Not himself—he'd get a professional to do it. The last time he attempted to cut his own hair, he'd been unable to cut evenly, got angry, forgone the scissors, tried to curse it off using his wand, and ended up with a largish chunk of it missing off the side of his head. Hermione had had to fuss over it for a good hour to get it fairly even afterwards. Harry chuckled aloud at the memory.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. Why're you following me?"
Ginny blinked. "No reason, I just have nothing else to do. Why are you in such a bad mood, Harry? Is everything okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't seem fine," she persisted.
Harry sighed heavily. "Look, I'm just not feeling well."
"You've been acting weird lately, all jumpy and discombobulated. Are you sure you don't—"
"Ginny! I'm fine!"
She stopped short, her long red hair stirring around her pretty face. Harry turned to snap at her and noticed the hurt in her eyes. They stood there glaring stubbornly at each other for a good thirty seconds. A cold breeze came up, stinging their cheeks. Everything was quiet aside from their breathing.
Finally Harry spoke, in a low voice. "I don't feel well. The only reason I came out here was so that I could stop thinking about certain—ugh, nevermind. Will you just please leave me alone?"
There was another longish pause; then Ginny, swallowing hard against what sounded like a lump in her throat, said, "I only wanted to help. It might do you some good to let down your defences a little, Harry. You're being a right ass." With that, she turned on her heel and stomped away through the snow towards the castle, the fist clenched around her broom conveying her anger.
"What defences!" Harry called after her indignantly, and received only her back in reply. He groaned to himself and covered his eyes with his free hand, rubbing his temples. A few seconds later he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Knowing who it must be, he tried to quench the advancing nervous butterflies (to no avail) and turned around to face her when he judged her to be a few feet away.
"Did you two just have a fight?" Hermione asked, concern evident in her tone and on her face. She was carrying a thick, heavy-looking book under her arm—Harry couldn't see the title. The wind had picked up a touch, and kept blowing a stray stubborn lock of hair into her eyes. She tucked it behind her ear several times before giving up and letting it go where it would. Harry shrugged in response to her question.
"I dunno. She's mad at me, I don't think that makes it a proper fight, but..."
"You look upset. Are you alright?" she asked, tilting her head a little and squinting up at him through the wind. He nodded.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."
"Good," she said simply, and treated him to a crooked little smile. The small globe of tension that had been building itself up in the pit of his stomach over the past two days began to melt a bit around the edges. Harry smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but then realised that he hadn't thought of anything to say. After a second or two of staring at her, gaping like a fish, Hermione giggled, and they both started laughing.
"So what were you two talking about?" she asked when they were done. Harry shrugged as they both turned to the castle and slowly started making their way towards it through the snow.
"She was just asking what was wrong, like you. Apparently I don't look my best today...anyway, she kept on pestering me about it, wouldn't bug off, so I got fed up and snapped at her. D'you think she'll be very mad?"
"Depends on what you said. Did you call her anything?"
"No, just told her to bug off. Well I didn't actually say 'bug off', but I said to leave me alone. Please."
It started snowing gently. Hermione shook her head. "Ginny can be sensitive at times. She's quite the complex little thing."
"She's not so little anymore," Harry said absently. Hermione glanced at him and raised her eyebrows.
"Oh?" she teased, a grin playing about her lips. "Looking at our friend's younger sister in a new light, these days?"
"No, not her," he retorted without thinking, then quickly turned his head straight in front of him and forced himself not to breathe any harder. He swallowed, the movement grating his suddenly dry throat. Beside him, Hermione was grinning widely.
"Oh, really?" she said, mischievous delight plain in her voice. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd heard that tone come out of her mouth. It might have been that same time he'd remembered earlier—the time he'd shown up at the bottom of the girls' dormitory stairs with a towel over his head, asking pathetically for her assistance—and for a good pair of scissors. Yes...she had thoroughly enjoyed the moment when she made him pull off the towel and saw the state of disrepair that his hair was in. The bugger.
"Sp-speaking of which, hey, I need to get my hair cut, don't you think?" Harry stammered, failing miserably to distract her.
"Actually, you were just going to tell me who you fancy, as I recall, Harry. DO go on," she urged cheerfully, the biggest smile he'd seen in a long time all over her face. Harry inwardly cursed his thoughtless tongue a hundred times, then shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.
"Fancy? I don't fancy anyone. Do you fancy anyone?"
"No," she said quickly, and to his immense surprise, looked down at the snow and blushed.
"You're blushing," he commented, bewildered.
"No, I'm not—it's just the cold," she maintained stubbornly, and looked up to meet his eyes as if to prove it. After a moment they both turned their gazes straight ahead and walked stiffly in awkward silence. Every few seconds Harry would glance down at her to his left, then look back at the castle. Once in a while he'd catch her glancing at him at the same time, and both pairs of eyes would quickly dart back ahead of them. The third time this happened, they both spontaneously burst out laughing and didn't stop for a good, long while.
"I'll tell if you'll tell," she offered.
"I won't tell."
"Then I won't tell."
"I won't tell either."
"Well then neither of us will tell."
"Alright then."
"Alright."
They both laughed again, and changed the subject. After a few more minutes of dawdling and meandering around in the snow, they found themselves at the castle entrance. Harry shook his head to get rid of the layer of snowflakes that had accumulated in his hair, and tossed it back out of his eyes. He was reminded a third time of how long it was getting. "I really do need to cut it," he said, half to himself. Hermione tilted her head and looked at him.
"I don't know, I kind of like it this length."
"You certainly didn't have anything against cutting it the last time," Harry grinned wryly.
"Well if you hadn't tried to curse it all off, I wouldn't have had to make it so short," she rebutted, laughing. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, right. You had way too much fun with my misfortune."
"It was entirely your own fault, and you know it," she said, sticking out her tongue. Suddenly she reached out and touched a lock of his hair, twirling it between her fingers. Harry's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding a mile a minute. Little sounds around them—dull chatter from the Great Hall inside, the whistling of the wind around them—faded to silence for a few seconds. He couldn't meet her eyes. After an eternity of adrenaline, Hermione smiled and dropped her hand. "I like it longer."
"Then longer it stays," Harry agreed instantly. "I don't want something like last time to happen again, anyway."
She chuckled and turned to go inside. When she had disappeared through the castle doors, Harry took in a deep, somewhat raggedy breath, shook his head at his own predicament, and followed her in.