Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I promise

Chapter 22

Harry blinked his eyes open, gently rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He sat up and admired the quiet silence of the second-year dormitories. It was a Saturday, and for once he didn't have to be woken up at dawn in for Quidditch practice. Today, he had a Quidditch match, and just the thought of it was enough for him to smile giddily. The thought of returning to the air, to chase the Snitch with the entirety of Gryffindor cheering him on was enough to wipe his worries of the Chamber of Secrets out of his mind.

The days since Harry had discovered the capabilities of Riddle's diary had been miserable. He'd watched Hagrid set loose a monster on Hogwarts fifty years ago, and he had come to realize he was doing it again. The half-giant was one of Harry's closest friends, if he was being honest. Besides Hermione, and maybe Ron, he couldn't name anyone in the magical world who had done more for him. Now, the same man who'd introduced him to the wizarding world was unleashing a horrific spider capable of petrifying students.

Harry had felt an emptiness gnawing away at his insides the moment he realized Hagrid was responsible. The moment he'd told Hermione, she was equally crestfallen. She'd been reading on their usual couch in the common room, and when he'd brandished the diary in her face, ranting incoherently about Hagrid and a giant spider, she'd looked ready to cry.

Ron had also turned morose once Harry told him, but he tried to maintain his chipper demeanor to try and lighten his and Hermione's moods, to little avail. The brown-eyed witch in particular had spent even more time than usual reading, and their conversations stopped flowing as they always did. It made Harry feel that much more upset about everything, especially after he and Hermione had been back to their old selves for such a short time after she'd gotten out of the Hospital Wing.

But today featured something that could vanquish those depressing thoughts entirely – Quidditch.

Eagerly pushing any thoughts about the Chamber of Secrets to the side, Harry swung his legs off the bed. Each of his roommates slumbered peacefully, and a glance at his watch told him it was just before seven. He shrugged, opting to go down to the common room and read by the fire for a bit before he had to worry about donning his Quidditch robes. He glanced out the window and saw it promised to be a beautiful day – barely any clouds grazed the sky, and the sun bathed the entirety of the Hogwarts grounds in a gorgeous golden light.

For a moment he considered studying up for Potions, but paused when he caught sight of a familiar booklet in his trunk – A Few Good Men. He smiled to himself as he pulled it out, already slightly worn from multiple read-throughs, and decided he'd rather enjoy his morning than subject himself to self-induced torture regarding Snape's assigned reading on Jawbind Potions.

He winced as he opened the book to the last page he'd been on and saw it was dog-eared. The last time Hermione had caught him commit such a foul act against a book, she'd hit him on the shoulder with The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2 so hard he'd fallen off the couch. Deciding he did not want to relive that pain, he went to grab a bookmark from his bedside table drawer.

"What're you doing up?" A sluggish voice grumbled from behind him. Harry turned to see a particularly lethargic looking Neville Longbottom sitting up in bed, staring at him inquisitively.

"Nothing, Neville. Go back to sleep." Harry whispered. Neville nodded absent-mindedly, clearly not completely awake. He gracelessly fell backwards onto his pillow and was snoring instantly.

Harry shook his head at his friend's torpor before turning back to his bedside table. Taking extra care to not let the squeaky drawer wake his friends, he gingerly inched it open.

He felt his stomach plummet so fast he thought he was going to collapse. A wave of nausea washed over him as he saw a patch of pink, and his knees buckled unsteadily.

'Nice going.' His inner voice taunted, but even the oft-sadistic voice seemed a tad dejected at the sight of the envelope. Slowly, Harry opened the drawer fully, and his heart shriveled up on itself.

Hermione's Valentine lay untouched in front of him, and just below it lay the bookmark he'd intended to grab. Steadying his shaky breath, Harry ignored the bookmark and pulled the letter out. His first name was written in his best friend's pristine handwriting. He fought the urge to groan at his own stupidity. He remembered how pleasantly surprised he'd felt when Hermione had given him the letter in the common room, how excited he'd been about his first Valentine, before…

Why hadn't he opened it?

'The diary.' His inner voice returned. 'As I said, nice going.'

"Shut up." Harry grumbled, before clapping a hand over his mouth, realizing he'd spoken out loud. Mercifully, his friends continued to snore obliviously. Letting out a very wobbly breath, he closed the drawer and stared at the pink envelope in his hands for a few moments.

He remembered sprinting down the stairs after spending hours with the diary, writing with Tom Riddle and observing his memories regarding the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione had been sitting on their usual couch, her nose buried in a book as per usual. When Harry had come bounding over, brandishing the diary in her face and exclaiming incoherently that Hagrid had opened the Chamber fifty years ago, she'd been understandably bewildered, but she'd been surprisingly upset.

Harry had assumed it was because of the diary. He barely resisted the urge to fling himself out the window as he realized just how stupid he'd been. Hermione had been quieter, more reserved, more introverted ever since he'd revealed what he'd gathered from the diary. But it had nothing to do with Hagrid, or Tom Riddle, or even the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry's stomach felt like it had been turned inside out and drenched with acid, and for a moment he considered bolting to the bathroom to retch. He dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach and rocking back and forth, trying to take deep breaths. He'd clearly hurt Hermione. The one thing he swore to never do after he found her crying in the girls' toilets on Halloween a year ago. He'd hurt his best friend. Everything suddenly clicked in a gut-wrenching way, every time she'd buried her nose in a book instead of talking to him, every time she shrugged distractedly when he asked her a question, every time she'd gone to bed early instead of sitting in the common room with him, it was all because of the envelope that lay forgotten in his bedside table.

Whatever was written in there had to be something big. Something worth reacting to. He hadn't acknowledged it all. He hadn't even touched it since she handed it to him in the common room, a shy smile on her face.

For a moment, he tried convincing himself he hadn't screwed up that badly. Valentine's Day was on a Sunday, and today was Friday, so it had been how many days? He glanced up and caught sight of Dean's calendar pinned to one of his bedposts.

May 8th.

"Shit." He groaned, not even caring that he'd spoken out loud this time. He remained on the ground, trying to make himself calm down enough to think straight. Slowly, he got to his feet, his legs quaking underneath him.

He let out another frustrated exhale before staggering out of the common room, A Few Good Men in one hand and the Valentine in the other.

He descended the marble staircase into an empty common room and plopped himself down onto his usual couch by the fireplace. Feeling a tad calmer now that he was on a comfortable couch, he examined the pink letter once again. Tossing the book to the side, he delicately pried the envelope open. He thought he was moving at an agonizingly slow pace, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to move any faster.

With shaky hands, he pulled a folded piece of parchment out of the envelope. Opening it to its full length, Harry looked to the top.

Before he could even read the first word, he heard footsteps clopping down the staircase of the boys' dormitories. Panicking, he grabbed A Few Good Men off the couch cushion next to him and opened it to a random page, placing the parchment over the pages to give the appearance he was reading the play. He glanced up to see Percy Weasley strolling down to the common room rather pompously.

"Good morning, Harry. Studying?" He asked, absent-mindedly adjusting his prefect badge.

"It's, um, well, it's a Muggle play. I really like it." Harry stammered, and Percy shrugged.

"Glad to see you're at least reading something. It certainly beats those mind-numbing games like chess or card games that my brothers adore." His tone grew increasingly disdainful towards the end of his sentence. "Well, enjoy." He said matter-of-factly before striding to the portrait hole. Harry waited until he heard the Fat Lady swing closed before returning to the letter. Even at first glance it was clear Hermione had been ten times as loquacious as the few sentences he'd scribbled onto his Valentine for her.

Harry,

There have been five hundred and thirty-two days between this Valentine's Day and the day we met on the Hogwarts Express. With every fiber of my being, I know that they have been the best five hundred and thirty-two days of my life. And before you get all high and mighty, I'll have you know that going to school at Hogwarts and learning magic played a fairly large part – it's not just you.

Harry found it in him to chuckle to himself before continuing.

That said, you have made the past year and a half better than I ever could have dreamed. Every time we've studied in the library, every time we've hung out in the common room, every time we've sat next to each other in the Great Hall, every waking moment I've had the pleasure of spending with you has made my life immeasurably better.

Some moments in particular have improved my life exponentially. Every time I brush my teeth in the mirror, I think about how you complimented my teeth on the train and I smile to myself. Then, I usually think about how I threw my arms around you because it was the only thing I could think to do, and I start blushing furiously.

You probably don't remember, but after our first Charms Exam I dragged you to the library to study with me because I didn't think you were trying hard enough. It was the first time we ever studied together. Afterwards, you fell asleep on the couch in the common room and I sat next to you and just started reading. It was the first time we ever sat on our couch together, the same one we sit on almost every night once curfew arrives.

Harry looked down at the very couch he was sitting on and smiled fondly at the memory. How could she think he would forget such a great day? Then again, he had forgotten her Valentine. He cringed at himself, then cringed upon realizing he and Hermine hadn't shared this couch in over two months.

As I'm certain you can imagine by now, I think about you bursting into the bathroom on Halloween almost every day. You were a boy I'd known for less than two months, who cared more about my safety than his own, and fought a mountain troll to prove it. It was on that day I decided to protect you as you would for me, no matter what. It was on that day I noticed just how much you meant to me. It was on that day you became my hero.

I finally got the chance to repay you in the Forbidden Forest. Although I'll never forget shoving you out of the way and banishing You-Know-Who off to protect you, the part of that night I love the most was before that. We spent the better part of that night holding hands as we walked through the Forbidden Forest. We'd only held hands once before then, and I was so flustered you thought I was scared and pulled away. Having my fingers laced with yours felt just as exhilarating as fighting the Dark Lord, although I'm glad we do the former of those two much more than the latter these days.

A few weeks later I just knew you were going to try and stop You-Know-Who from getting the Sorcerer's Stone. I tried to convince you not to go in the common room, but I could tell you weren't going to listen. So after you went upstairs I stayed in the common room and had a very intense internal debate about what to do. For a moment, I even considered getting McGonagall to watch the portrait hole because I would have much rather had you hate me for ratting you out than see you die that night. But the moment I heard your footsteps coming down the stairs, I knew I wanted to go with you, and there was nothing you could do to stop me. When we were in the potions chamber, and I thought I might never see you again, I did something I'd wanted to do for almost a year by then, and I kissed you on the cheek. At first I thought you were cross with me, because I'd never seen your face so red. But I saw you touching your cheek when I walked through the fire and I knew I did something right.

I didn't sleep and I barely ate for the three days you were in the Hospital Wing. I had never been so worried in my life about you. Seeing you lying in that bed with your eyes closed, I was almost certain You-Know-Who had done you in. The morning after you defeated Professor Quirrell, I was by your bedside for hours while all the teachers discussed what to do. Eventually, they decided I had to go and get some rest, but I refused, in a very loud and tearful manner. Dumbledore had to physically pull me away from you while I cried, it was actually rather embarrassing.

If Harry didn't have tears of his own forming in his eyes, he was certain he would have burst out laughing at that admission.

Then I managed to convince my parents to let you stay with us for the summer, and it was the best summer of my life. Although it pales in comparison to the beauty of the Hogwarts Grounds, I loved every one of our walks through Sapphire Park, especially eating mint chip ice cream with you. I loved going shopping with you, and you even made me love camping – something I thought I would hate. I especially enjoyed you staring at me that night by the fire.

Harry had to stop reading for a moment, feeling his face grow hot enough to fry an egg.

I bet you blushed just then – I'd never seen you look as flustered as you did that night. After that I loved working in the kitchen with you, even though you made fun of me a lot. I especially loved baking cookies, and even though I'm sure you didn't know what you meant by it, I'll always remember something you said that day: "I'm sure whichever cookie you erroneously claim to find ugly will actually be the tastiest one of the lot. That's usually how baking goes anyway."

For a moment I thought you had reached Herman Melville levels of metaphors when you said that, but I know you were just being nice and had no idea how much those words meant to me and my self-confidence.

Harry paused, trying to decipher his own quote. He pursed his lips as he thought about alternative interpretations to his fairly simple piece of baking advice, but shrugged when he couldn't find any.

I loved your birthday this past summer. I loved going out to dinner and sharing my food with you and giving you those gifts. Seeing you react the way you did over something I did for you sent me over the moon.

Of course, you had to one-up me come September 19th by giving me the greatest birthday gift I've ever received in my life. As much as I love the photos of you, me, and Ron, the album with the photos of just you and I is the one I keep on my bedside table, the one I flip through every night before giggling into my pillow like a schoolgirl.

I don't want to bore you to death by recounting every single moment we've shared together. I'm sure you're either laughing or hoping you're near the end of this letter anyway.

As Harry wiped his eyes, he couldn't even bring himself to smile at just how wrong Hermione was.

I love spending time with you, Harry, even more than I love spending time reading. I know, I know – who am I and what have I done with Hermione Granger, ha-ha hilarious. In all seriousness, I can't truly describe how I feel when I'm around you. It's like everything else is irrelevant, even school. Whenever we're holding hands, I can't think of anything except the feeling of your fingers intertwined with mine. Whenever I'm leaning against you, like when we watched the sunset in the Forest of Dean, or when we watched the snow fall on the Hogwarts Grounds the day I left the Hospital Wing, I can't think about anything except the fact that my head is on your shoulder and how comfortable it is. Even when we're in the library or reading in the common room, it takes all of my effort to focus on the words in front of me instead of a certain emerald-eyed wizard nearby.

'So that's how she'd describe your eyes.' His inner voice snickered. 'I'd pick emeralds over toads every day of the week.' Harry pressed on, tuning out his internal thoughts.

You mean more to me than words are capable of describing, Harry Potter. And I didn't think I'd be able to tell you all of this face-to-face without running off with my face buried in my hands or with you laughing at me, so here we are.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Love,

Hermione

Harry sat in silence for what felt like hours. He reread the letter half a dozen times, feeling his heart swell each time. Finally, he looked away from the parchment and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling as a wave of emotion crashed into him with the force of a tsunami. He couldn't believe how moronic he had been to leave such a beautiful message forgotten in his bedside drawer for two months. He couldn't believe how Hermione's words had him feeling like he was floating. He couldn't believe a lot of things right then and there, and for a moment he wondered if this was all a bizarre dream.

Harry had close to a gazillion thoughts racing through his head, but he was ripped away from all of them when he heard footsteps coming down one of the staircases. He didn't have to turn to know it was Hermione, but he looked anyway.

She moved quietly, but the common room was completely silent, save the crackling of the fireplace in front of him. She suddenly came into view, and Harry felt his heart leap into his throat.

She was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, using muscle memory to guide herself down the marble stairs. Her trademark bushy brown hair looked even more all over the place than it usually did, and she let out a small yawn as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She closed her eyes as she did so, reaching her arms over her head and arching her back as she stretched.

'Like a cat.' Harry thought amusedly before he glanced down at the letter in his hand. Gathering every bit of that bravery Hermione told him he had almost a year ago, he shakily got to his feet. Hermione finally opened her eyes and caught sight of him.

She flashed him a radiant smile, the one smile he'd grown to appreciate more than anyone else's. But even from across the room, Harry could see it didn't reflect in her eyes. None of her smiles had lit up her eyes since Valentine's Day. And the ever-intuitive Harry Potter had thought it was about Hagrid. For a moment he thought about setting himself on fire.

"What are you doing up so early?" She asked, still smiling. "Quidditch nerves?"

"Can we talk?" He choked out, feeling his face heat up.

"Someone once said I usually just start talking without giving you a choice." She smirked, but her eyes darkened with concern. Harry gave a halfhearted smile, but his stomach was lurching so hard he found it difficult to breathe.

Hermione eventually nodded and walked over to the couch before hesitantly sitting down, and Harry sat next to her. He kept his eyes on the fireplace in front of him, unable to meet the inquisitive gaze of his best friend.

"Hermione…" He started, his voice wavering. He took a few shaky breaths before continuing. "Last Halloween, when I found you in the bathroom…" He was finding it increasingly difficult to speak, and he remembered how in the past whenever he was overcome with emotion Hermione would instinctively place her hand on his. He glanced over to see she was sitting on her hands, her expression one of confusion and worry. He turned back to the fire, closing his eyes in shame.

"Last Halloween, when you were crying in my arms, I promised myself that I would never hurt you. Seeing you in so much pain, with all those tears, I think it hurt me more than you were hurting that day." He sighed, feeling his voice grow steadier and steadier as he progressed. "I promised myself that I would never hurt you, and I broke that promise almost three months ago without even knowing it.

"Since I told you about Hagrid and the Chamber of Secrets, you've been despondent to say the least. And I thought it was because you were worried about him. It turns out I was wrong about someone else's feelings. Again." He sighed, shaking his head at himself. "I'm not making excuses, because I don't want to do that to you. You deserve better than that." He heard her hitch her breath next to him, but he didn't turn. He didn't even open his eyes. "I was looking for a bookmark this morning, and I found something. Something I hadn't seen since February."

"Harry…"

"When I ran upstairs to grab my Valentine for you, Hermione, I dropped yours in my bedside table drawer while I was looking for an envelope. I didn't even think twice about it."

"Harry, why – "

"Then I went upstairs to read what you'd given me. Except I never got that far." He flinched at himself, wishing he could go back in time more than anything. "The rest of the boys, they found out that the diary absorbed all ink, and that's when I found out…everything." He trailed off, his voice now barely a whisper.

"Harry – "

"I forgot about you, Hermione. I forgot about you, the person who means more to me than anyone in the world. The person who would do anything for me, the person who has done everything she could for me. I let your Valentine sit in my bedside table for three months because I'm the biggest prat in the world." He paused, his voice cracking. "I know that no apologies can make up for what I've done, but I want you to know that with every fiber of my being, I'm sorry."

"Harry, please – "

"I found it this morning." Harry heard her hitch her breath again. "I was looking for a bookmark and I opened my bedside table drawer for the first time in three months. The sight of your letter, seeing it ignored, untouched, for so long, it made me sick to my stomach, Hermione. I wanted to fling myself off the Astronomy Tower. I wanted to go back in time and beat my past self to death with my bare hands. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to – "

"Harry – "

"I wanted to undo it." He finished, feeling tears burning in his eyes. "I wish I hadn't done this to you, Hermione. I care too much about you." His voice faltered again, and this time he sat in silence, holding his head in his hands.

Hermione was silent for what felt like an entire year. Harry was certain she was going to run off crying any moment, or start hexing him until he couldn't walk. He hoped for the second one. Seeing Hermione hurt any more than she already had been would be too much.

"Did you read it?"

It was such a quiet voice, Harry thought it might have come from the other side of the common room. He slowly lifted his head to meet Hermione's eyes. He'd never seen them so tearful. He nodded, and her body trembled with a sob.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry." He managed, then winced at such a stupid thing to say. "What you wrote was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. Ever. I can't believe I was stupid enough to leave it in a drawer gathering dust for so long, but I want you to know that I do appreciate what you wrote. I don't expect you to forgive me, and I understand if how you felt then is completely different than how you feel now."

Hermione inhaled sharply, and her bottom lip quivered.

"Hermione, you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. Better than magic. Better than Quidditch. Better than everything. And I threw it away because of some bloody diary." He sighed, and put his head back in his hands. "You deserve better than that."

Silence. Harry was certain he was going to burst into tears any moment.

More silence. He suddenly wondered if throwing himself off the Astronomy Tower was such a bad idea.

Then…

WHOMP

"Hermione!" He cried out, feeling a familiar wall of force crash into his side.

"I thought I'd lost you." She sobbed into his shoulder, tightening her arms around his torso hard enough to bend metal. For once, Harry didn't care about the pain. "I thought I'd lost you." She repeated.

Harry weakly patted her arms, feeling his best friend burrow into his shoulder and soaking his shirt with her tears.

"I know how you feel." He whispered, feeling a single tear roll down his cheek.

"I thought you wanted nothing to do with me at first." Hermione whimpered, somehow squeezing him even tighter. "I thought I'd scared you off with all those feelings. Then I thought you were just being nice about it, by focusing only on the diary instead of talking about what I wrote."

"Hermione, the day I want nothing to do with you is the day I want you to drown me in the Great Lake." He offered, and he heard Hermione let out a weak laugh. "Every word you wrote, I feel the same, Hermione. Every word." He paused. "Well, I don't exactly giggle into my pillow like a schoolgirl, but other than that…"

Hermione let out another laugh, more substantial than the last. They sat in silence for another few moments before she pulled away.

"So, I didn't lose you?" She asked, wiping a tear from her cheek. Harry shook his head.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily." He offered a small smile, and she beamed back before enveloping him in her arms once again. This time, Harry was prepared and hugged her back just as fiercely, burying his face in the comfort of her familiar bushy brown hair. He heard her let out a surprised gasp as he did so, but she made no move to pull away.

They sat in each other's arms for a long time, long enough for a few students to descend into the common room. Most were oblivious to the pair of second-years off to the side, hugging one another like they'd never see each other again. One student, however, did notice.

Harry glanced up to see Lavender Brown cheerfully walking down the staircase. She locked eyes with Harry and spotted Hermione, who still had her face in Harry's shoulder. Before Harry could open his mouth, Lavender flashed him a thumbs-up before skipping out of the common room, grinning from ear to ear.

Eventually, Hermione relinquished her death grip on Harry and pulled back. She was smiling again, and this time it reflected in her eyes. They weren't the dark, gloomy brown that they'd been for the past couple of months. They were sparkling, not just with tears, but with sheer joy.

"Hungry?" She asked, getting to her feet.

"Starving." Harry grinned. "I have to get my Quidditch stuff. Meet back here?" He asked. Hermione nodded eagerly, and they both sprinted back to their dormitories. Harry had never thrown his scarlet jersey and robes on so fast. After nearly three months of uncomfortable separation from his best friend, he didn't want to be apart from her any more than was absolutely necessary.

He rushed back down the stairs so fast he nearly tumbled down them, and met an equally eager Hermione by their couch.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Hermione held out her hand, and Harry eagerly took it, grabbing his copy of A Few Good Men with his new impromptu bookmark still slipped between the pages.

They walked hand in hand to the Great Hall, chatting about all manner of things unrelated to diaries and monsters. After laughing to themselves about Lockhart still being scared of Hermione, she asked how he felt about the upcoming Quidditch match.

"I'm just relieved McGonagall hasn't taken it upon herself to cancel the season yet." Harry grinned, eliciting a playful eye-roll from his best friend. "I need redemption for last year. We would have won the Quidditch Cup but some prat wound up in the Hospital Wing and ruined everything."

"Oh, I remember that." Hermione mused sarcastically. "I was so mad that Gryffindor was going to lose I started crying."

"That's why you cried?" Harry asked with mock incredulousness, earning a teasing shoulder-bump from Hermione. They giggled like idiots for a moment before pausing just outside the Great Hall. "It's good to have you back, Hermione."

"It's good to have you back, Harry Potter." She beamed, suddenly bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

"What's with the jumping?" Harry asked, unable to hide his amusement. Hermione just shrugged. "You want to hug me again, don't you?" He smirked.

"Just a bit."

"You know I'm never going to say no to a hug from Hermione Granger." He smirked, and Hermione's smile grew even wider before wrapping him up again in traditional bone-crushing fashion.

"I really did miss you." She whispered.

"I missed you too."

"Harry!" A voice bellowed out from behind them. The pair hurriedly put some space between themselves, dusting their clothes off and turning to the source of the voice.

"Good morning, Captain." Harry sighed, earning a grin from Oliver Wood.

"Big day today. Eat up, I'll meet you in the locker rooms in half an hour."

"The match doesn't start for over an hour!" Harry blurted before he could stop himself.

"We win this, we've got the Quidditch Cup locked up. I've got a speech that I think everyone will have everyone ready for the occasion." He grinned again before marching into the Great Hall.

"Swell…" Harry muttered, earning a laugh from Hermione.

"If you really want to get out of that, I'm sure McGonagall's still open to cancelling the match." She nudged Harry before slipping her hand back into his. Harry cracked a smile before they strolled into the Great Hall, sitting across from Ron.

"You better win today, Harry." Ron grinned through a mouthful of bacon. Harry and Hermione grimaced at the sight of their friend's open mouth, but Harry nodded.

"Because I usually go out there trying to lose."

"I'm just saying. You're undefeated when you actually play, but Gryffindor needs this. And you can stick it to all those Hufflepuff prats who think you're the Heir of Slytherin." The redhead chuckled.

Harry shrugged, grabbing some toast and launching into pleasant conversation for a while with Ron and Hermione before the latter suddenly grabbed his arm.

"What?" Harry asked as she yanked his arm towards herself and looked at his watch.

"You've got to get down to the locker rooms!" Hermione gasped. Harry glanced at his watch and raised his eyebrows in realization.

"Damn. I guess I do." He muttered, getting to his feet. "I'll see you guys down there?"

"Oh, please. You'd get lost on your way there without me." Hermione huffed sarcastically as she got to her feet.

"Yeah, I'll see you down there." Ron said distractedly, catching sight of a plate of sausage links. Harry and Hermione barely stifled their snickers at their friend's protein fascination before walking off.

Harry felt Hermione's fingers interlock with his once again and smiled to himself. They strolled down the steps, conversing excitedly about the match.

"I better be able to hear you from across the pitch." Harry grinned as they neared the stadium.

"You'll be able to hear me from across the planet." Hermione returned the smile, and Harry felt a wave of warmth wash over his entire body.

"This is nice." Harry said once they reached the entrance to the locker rooms. "Talking like this, with you." Hermione's cheeks tinged pink. "Plus, I think this is the longest I've gone without thinking about Slytherin's monster and hearing voices nobody else can." He smirked. Hermione nodded, but suddenly stiffened. "What?" He asked.

"I've…I've got it!" She gasped, suddenly throwing her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek. "I've got it!" She yelled again. "I'll see you out there!" She beamed before running off towards the castle.

"Oh…okay." Harry mumbled, lifting his fingers to his cheek. He heard footsteps coming from behind him

"What'd you say to Granger?" A voice called out.

"Huh?" Harry asked, still feeling rather dazed. He turned to see Angelina Johnson walking over.

"What'd you say to Granger?" She repeated inquisitively. "She was sprinting towards the castle muttering about the library."

"Erm, nothing really." Harry stammered. "Do I really need to say something for Hermione to go to the library anyway?" He asked, finally returning to the real world. Angelina smirked at that before walking into the locker rooms, holding the door so he could join.

Wood wasn't kidding. His game-day speech dragged on for nearly a half-hour, and Harry was sure it was plenty inspiring and motivational. But he couldn't take his mind off of the peck on the cheek he'd gotten just before walking in. From Hermione. Every few minutes he found himself touching his cheek, grinning like an idiot.

"And Harry!" Wood grinned, jarring the bespectacled wizard from his thoughts. "I've had Hooch inspect the Bludgers. No foul play today." Harry nodded, offering a half smile, and Wood dismissed the team.

Harry went to his locker to grab his broom, admiring the golden Nimbus Two Thousand inscription on the finely polished handle before closing his locker. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the rush he always felt just before he was about to fly. He grinned in anticipation and turned to the door.

Before he – or any of his teammates – could exit, said door flew open.

"Professor! It usually takes a couple of dates before I get this far!" George Weasley snickered, mockingly covering his already-clothed chest. Unsurprisingly, the teacher who marched in was unamused. In fact, Harry had never seen McGonagall's lips pressed so tightly together.

"This match has been cancelled." She announced sternly, and everybody froze.

"You can't cancel Quidditch!" Wood sputtered incredulously.

"I can, and I must." She responded with narrowing eyes.

"Hermione's going to have a field day…" Harry muttered amusedly to himself before the professor whirled on him.

"Potter, perhaps you should come with me."

A/N: Get fucked