Chapter Four: In Which Harry Makes A Dismal Attempt

A week later and Harry has still failed to put his friends together. Hermione continues to wriggle every now and then, and Ron still cannot see the hilarity of it all. The three friends begin to feel the stress in all the schoolwork that will assault them as the year plunges on, and Hermione decides to take a mental day.

"You can't be serious," the shocked Ron looks at her through narrowed eyes.

"When am I not serious? Please, tell me," Hermione asks, extremely nervous and a little tense at the thought of skipping class. Normally she wouldn't do it but classes and homework are catching up to her faster than she had anticipated and slowly, very slowly, Hermione drowns in her own misery.

"Ron, if you feel so strongly about skipping class, than go report it for all I care."

"Hermione, you know I wouldn't do that to you, you're one of my best friends."

"My point exactly," she murmurs. Ron looks up hastily at the staircase coming down from the dormitories, and he sees Harry coming down in his usual haphazard self – lazily handsome and strangely calm. He smiles at his two friends sitting on couches, waiting for him. The fact that Hermione is not dressed for the day and she doesn't have her books doesn't even register with him until Ron points out what normally would be obvious.

"Hermione's not ready for class, Harry. Do you have anything to say about this?"

It takes a moment for Harry to catch up, but eventually he gets the drift.

"Hermione, why aren't you dressed yet?" He asks and in return receives a tight-lipped, rolling eyed look from Hermione.

"Because I'm not going to class. I'm staying here to finish my homework, thank you."

"What? Doesn't that seem a little pointless? I mean… skipping class to do more class work?"

"Actually, no, considering how far behind I'm getting, I thought I would have a quick catch up day, in fact, you're welcome to join me if you'd like."

"Ho no no no no, thank you," Harry sees that this would be far worse than going to Defense Against the Dark Arts, or double Care of Magical Creatures. Far worse. He'd actually rather go to potions.

"No, but thank you for offering, Hermione. Ron, however, could use some extra time for homework, couldn't you, Ron?"

"What?" Harry also sees that this may be the perfect opportunity for his two friends to spend some, ahem, quality time together.

Ron loves the idea, immediately seeing the advantage of staying out of class all day with Hermione. She could berate him all she wanted about working, but if a teacher asked, all he would have to say was that he was with Hermione and trouble was bound to pass him over.

"Sure, Hermione, I'll stay with you."

Hermione's expression remains on Harry, but slowly turns towards Ron, a slightly tighter smile on her lips.

"Well, then. Get you're books and quills and such and we'll begin."

"We haven't even had breakfast ye!"

"Do I look stupid to you?"

"Well…no…but…"

Hermione flicks her wand and a plate of eggs, sausage, and a glass of milk appear in front of him.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Don't mention it, please."

……………………………

I don't believe my luck. Some evil force has got it in for me, I think. Everything was planned out. I was going to get Harry and Ron off to class, with only a little bit of struggle, and then slip down to the prefects bathroom to take a long, hot, relaxing bath. Ron was actually daft enough to think that I would let him get off easy today! Now that he's with me, I can't very well leave him to take a bath, and to be honest, I don't want to work at all!

Everything is a disaster. Everything from his toes to his curly hair seep into all my essays, dripping all over my thoughts and words, leaving me with many, many rough drafts. I know that I can't possibly work all day, so I am just going to have to suck it up and tell him.

"Ron," I see his eyes rise from his paper he is pretending to write on. I know he expects me to say something about his work, or give him some important tip. "I can't work today. I'm leaving," I lay back in the chair I have been diligently working in, and gently stretch my muscles. I get up and tuck all my books tidily into my book bag, and wave it away. My feet carry me to the portrait hole. As desperate as I am to relax, I must force myself to leave Ron.

"Hermione, wait. I'm coming with you." This shocks me to no end, and I turn to him.

"What? Are you an idiot? You have the rest of the day to do whatever you please, and you chose to come with me?"

"What's wrong with that?" He gives me the most wide-eyed, innocent look, and I simply melt. I nearly take a step forward, and I almost wrap my arms around him. In my dreams I draw back, then lean in once more to lay my lips on his, sucking and pressing, asking and pleasing. Almost, but not quite.

"If you insist."

We go through the portrait hole and walk down the hall. Getting around the school undetected isn't so hard when you're best friend has loaned you a map of everyone and everything in it. It's simple to avoid the wandering teachers and students. Passageways make escape easier, and faster, opening doors to wild adventures that have yet to be discovered. Ron and I take one of these magically convenient journeys and wind up on the outer edge of the Quidditch field. I keep wondering exactly what it is that has made Ron come with me. I dim light appears in the back of my mind, but I quickly shut it out, refusing to believe the impossible.

……………………………….

Pant, Pant. That damn girl is walking… pant… too fast. My legs hurt, my ego hurts, my mind hurts, and on top of all that, I need to piss.

I have tried so hard to get her alone like this, and now I can't find those sweet, compelling, wonderful words that I rehearsed last night. They slip off my tongue so easily in the mirror, but for some reason when my own reflection isn't before me, my mouth has no inspiration. To speak, anyway.

So we're walking, and walking, and walking. I think we've made a decent time around the Quidditch field when all of a sudden Hermione veers to the right. She stops dead and unfortunately I don't see her in time and I ram right into her, knocking her on her bum. Of course I fall on top and everything is just a mess. She lies underneath me for a maximum of two seconds before she pushes me off of her. As she gets up she crouches there, mid rise, and looks at me with the most wonderful look in her eye. I freeze, having been just about to make some wise crack, and lift my head slightly from the ground. It's just too tempting and I can't stand the awkwardness. A moving picture plays in my head, of her leaning down and pushing me back to the ground with a slight growl in her throat. She accosts me with her lips and takes all, no prisoners. I clutch at her hair and pull her down, simultaneously slipping my other hand under her sweater.

In reality, I am the one who rises and accosts, fingering her cheek and nearly pulling me on top of her. But before I so much as sigh any sort of contentment, she leaps into the air.

She bolts.