The dripping had become a long, intense and repetitive symphony. The drops slid along the perfect skin without any resistance, leaving it and forming the classic 'teardrop' shape and then settling with a slow, inexorable sound on the white kitchen tiles. The drops had become like the ticking of a clock: they marked each long, interminable second that was passing.
Harry was staring so intently at the blood that he could have sworn he could see every single erythrocyte belonging to the fluid. The sinuous way it flowed and its viscosity caused the salivation in his mouth to increase and a slight appetite to come to life.
"Harry, are you all right?"
"Huh?"
His eyes shifted and tried to refocus on the voice and face of the person who had spoken to him. Jane was looking at him with genuine concern; he must have been absent for such a long time as to be suspicious.
"Um, yes. Yeah, everything's fine," Harry said. "I was just... Hermione, your hand," he brought his eyes back to the girl and her wound.
But this one was looking at him with arched eyebrows and a questioning look. "It's nothing Harry, it's just a little cut."
She was right. What had looked to Harry like a deep wound from which blood was gushing, could in fact almost be due to a superficial scratch made by Crookshanks.
"How...?" he wondered questioningly, crinkling his eyes, as if they were the problem. "I thought I saw... Blood, blood everywhere."
The two Granger women exchanged a concerned and sympathetic look. Jane moved slightly closer and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, who stared into her eyes.
"Maybe it's best if Hermione and I continue here, what do you say?" said Jane as meekly as possible, trying not to offend Harry in any way.
The boy's emerald eyes lit up with understanding. "Yes, absolutely. Sorry, I don't know what came over me. The blood must have done a number on me... You know, the war..." he tried to justify himself with the best excuse he could come up with at the moment.
It seemed to work, because both Hermione and Jane looked at him sympathetically. "There is nothing for you to apologise for Harry. I completely understand," Jane replied with a small smile. Hermione, behind her, nodded in turn.
"I'll wait in the other room then," Harry finally said, walking after a last cordial nod towards the main hall.
No, no! What the hell was wrong with him? His vampire nature was really playing tricks on him. Since when were wounds drastically increased by his fantasy? Was it a predatory instinct?
Well, what was certain was that he had to get over it, and fast. He was with Hermione and her family, he certainly couldn't afford to lose control.
Upon entering the main hall he noticed Hermione's grandparents sitting on two beige upholstered armchairs next to each other, which looked extremely comfortable. In front of them was a small dark wooden table, where two empty spectacle cases and a few magazines about television programmes were laid out. Mr Granger was smoking a cigar and Mrs Granger was reading a book, occasionally scolding her husband for the smoke he was causing.
Jason, on the other hand, was setting the long elliptical table, distributing silver cutlery, plates with drawn frames and glasses for water and wine. Evidently Harry's entrance caught his attention, because he almost immediately looked up at him with a small hint of a smile.
"Harry, how it's going in the kitchen?" asked Jason, pointing with a shake of his head to the room from which the boy came.
"Everything is fine. There was a small accident and Hermione cut herself slightly. But it's really something not to worry about," Harry explained in the most reassuring tone he possessed. "Can I help you set the table?"
"No need, but if you'd like, please be my guest," Jason said. Harry nodded and walked over, beginning to help him distribute the plates. He noticed that the silver cutlery caused his hands to itch slightly.
Silver. Evidently not as harmful as for werewolves, but still it had an effect on him too.
"Hermione took the liberty of telling us that you would like to pursue a career in the special forces of your world," Jason explained, trying to get to know Harry a little more. "What are they called?"
Harry stared at him for a moment and then shifted his gaze to Hermione's grandparents, intent now on doing a crossword puzzle in front of the switched-on television.
Jason, understanding his thoughts, reassured him. "They know it too. About your world, I mean."
"Really?" asked Harry with some surprise.
"Yes. To tell you the truth, we were a bit hesitant to tell them or not as well, but when we did, we got quite a surprise."
"Which was? If you don't mind me asking."
"Of course you may. But maybe Hermione will tell you later, I think she was happy to reveal it to you herself," Jason explained.
"Oh, okay," Harry said, a little confused. "Anyway, they're called Aurors," he answered the previous question he had been asked. "And yes, it's true, I wanted to pursue that path."
"You wanted to?" asked Jason with curiosity.
"Yes. Let's just say that, since the war ended, I've kind of lost the urge. I think I've given enough in that respect for one lifetime."
Not to mention the fact that he could never do that, now that he was a vampire. His secret would not have lasted a day.
"Have you had any other ideas yet?"
Harry hadn't actually thought about it. He couldn't think of a job he wouldn't jeopardise because of his condition. Unless...
"Actually, now that I think about it, I could teach," Harry replied, surprising even himself. "Please don't tell Hermione. I think her heart couldn't take the joy."
Jason chuckled. "I think so too, but I'm sure she'd approve of you one hundred percent."
"Harry, have you told Professor McGonagall yet if you will be there next year? I'm sure she'd have you Head Boy in a heartbeat."
Harry lifted his gaze from his plate and fixed it in the eyes of his best friend, who had spoken.
Hermione's question surprised him a little. Of all that had happened, the last thing on his mind had been school. But, indeed, if he wanted to succeed in giving even a semblance of normality - as much as it could have been - to his life, perhaps he really should have considered continuing his studies.
When he swallowed the morsel in his mouth, he replied. "Ah, not yet. But I will soon. In any case, I think there will be more suitable candidates for the role."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, and why would that be?" asked Hermione with a frown on her face.
"I, well... I don't know, it's not like I'm some kind of model student," Harry tried to justify. "You definitely will be made Head Girl instead, a student like you does deserve it."
Jason and Jane exchanged a knowing look, smiling at what Harry had just said, as if they recognised the boy's affection for their daughter.
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione thanked him with a veiled blush on her cheeks, going back to eating.
There was no more discussion for a while, and the only sound that remained was that of cutlery clattering on plates.
"Tell me something I'm curious about, Harry," said Jason suddenly, who had finished the food on his plate and placed his cutlery back on it. "Hermione says you're a prodigy in a subject... What's it called? Defence on the Dark Arts?"
"Defence Against the Dark Arts, Dad," Hermione corrected him. "Harry is the best in the class, maybe in all of Hogwarts. No one can duel better than him."
"Oh no, Hermione, you're a bit of an exaggeration," Harry said scratching his hair, embarrassed. "Yes, it's my favourite subject. But Hermione is also very good at duelling. Not to mention she beats me at everything else," he answered Jason's question, making everyone laugh as Hermione tried hard to contradict him.
It had been since before dinner that Harry had been keeping his curiosity about what Jason had mentioned to him at bay. Now, perhaps, it could be a good time.
"Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, can I ask you a question?" asked Harry to Hermione's grandparents, who sat opposite him.
"Of course you can young man, there's no need to be so formal," replied Mrs. Granger with a sweet, reassuring smile. Mr. Granger merely nodded.
"Thank you. Jason mentioned to me that when you found out about the Wizarding World, there was quite a surprise. I was wondering, if I'm not being too intrusive, what it was," Harry explained with a small smile, hoping he wasn't being too indiscreet.
"Oh, Merlin! That's what I forgot!" exclaimed Hermione suddenly. She immediately brought her eyes to her grandfather, who sat to her left. "Can I tell him Grandpa? Please?" she asked all excitedly, hugging the man's arm, who laughed at Hermione's affection.
"No need to buy me off like that," replied Mr. Granger, smiling. "Darling, go ahead."
"Harry, you have no idea! I want to see your face when you find out! I was literally speechless," Hermione said, returning her eyes to her best friend, looking like she was hiding the best news in the world.
"What, Hermione?"
He didn't know for what exact reason, but he began to get a bad feeling, like something was about to happen. He tried to send that surely wrong feeling away, and paid attention to his best friend, who seemed excited.
"You see... The thing is, my grandparents already knew about the wizarding world, because grandpa was already a part of it!" exclaimed Hermione, with a toothy grin.
"What, that's incredible, so you're a wizard, sir?" asked Harry, incredulously.
"Not exactly..." replied Mr. Granger mysteriously, returning his eyes to Hermione, to leave her to answer that question.
"No, he's not a wizard," Hermione clarified. "He is a Vampire Hunter."
"No."
Harry felt a slight tingling covering his skullcap, as if a thousand insects were crawling under his skin. He lowered his eyes to look at his hands, pale and cold, only to look up again and see faces waiting for his reaction staring back into his eyes, frozen in time. Mr Granger seemed to have the most curious look of all. Almost as if he was challenging him, almost as if he already knew the comedy of having a granddaughter who had a vampire as a best friend when he was a hunter of one.
"No-No way! How cool!" exclaimed Harry.
Their faces remained frozen without changing expression after her reaction and he thought he was inevitably, completely, screwed.
Hey, I'm a vampire!
Then, when he saw Hermione's smile widen and her parents smiling at his answer, he realised that maybe, for the moment, there was still a chance.
"True!" laughed Hermione excitedly. "Tell us about it Grandpa. Harry and I are super curious. How do you find a vampire? What are its weak points? At Hogwarts we only studied what they are."
Harry, ironically, against all instincts of self-preservation, nodded.
"Come with me."
The man screeched his chair to the floor and stood up, motioning for them to follow him.
Harry looked at Hermione, who nodded and held out a hand to him. He took it and she began to follow her grandfather up the stairs.
"You should know," Mr. Granger began, "that although there are many ways to weaken or avoid a vampire, there are mainly two ways to kill one. Do you know which ones?"
Harry did not have time to answer, or perhaps he deliberately held back, that Hermione promptly replied.
"I know that fire can hurt them. And that they can't be in the sunlight."
This could have been a point in Harry's favour. Evidently, modern vampires had equipped themselves with magic to be able to defeat the sunlight.
"Hmm, then they teach you something useful nowadays too. Yes, vampires would be instantly pulverised if they were to be in sunlight, and so fire can kill them too, if they are damaged very critically," Mr Granger explained. "Also, one of the best ways to track down a vampire is to use an herb, vervain."
The man stopped halfway down a corridor looking at a wall between two doors from which hung a wooden board with three hooks on which to hang clothes. Strange place to have one.
Mr. Granger pulled the middle one towards him and the shape of a door perfectly camouflaged in the wall opened towards him, revealing a sort of secret compartment the size of a wardrobe.
"Grandpa, are those wooden stakes?"
What Hermione was referring to were cylindrical wooden stakes ending in an extremely sharp point, placed neatly in a sort of glass case hanging on the wall.
Then there was a shelf to the right above which were two thin-stemmed seedlings with small, pinkish flowers.
"Yes, sweetheart. One of the best ways to kill a vampire is with a wooden stake firmly planted in the middle of the heart," the man said dryly, taking one of the stakes and handing it to his granddaughter, who looked at him, curious. "The other one is... Well, decapitation."
Harry stood absolutely petrified beside his best friend, watching as events unfolded. He noticed a weapon neatly stowed on the left low side of the compartment. "A crossbow."
The man turned to look at him. "That's right, a crossbow modified to shoot wooden darts."
Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye Hermione handing him a stake to show him. He reached out his hand to take it.
"To aid me in my work, all my weapons are cleaned with a solution of water and vervain. That way, if I were to strike a vampire, or if he wanted to use my own weapons against me, he could not."
The stake clattered against the floor.
Mr Granger turned sharply.
Harry had his hand outstretched towards Hermione and she had made the gesture of handing him the stake, but her hand was a few inches too far away and had missed his.
"Oh, I'm sorry Harry. I thought I was closer!" explained Hermione, apologising and bending down to pick up the wooden stake and handing it to his grandfather. "I hope I didn't ruin it, Grandpa."
"Nonsense darling, we can always make one together if you fancy seeing how they're made."
"Sure!" she replied, enthusiastically.
"I think it's time to go back and finish dinner. They'll be waiting for us downstairs," said the man simply.
"Oh, ok," Hermione nodded. "Yes Grandpa, thank you for showing us all this."
"Yes," Harry added, not wanting to sound rude. "Thank you, Sir, it was very informative and interesting."
"Don't worry, it was a pleasure."
When dinner was over, Hermione and Harry had helped clear the table. When they were finished, she spoke to her parents.
"Mum, Dad, I think Harry and I are going to the Old Club," she said. "It's a lounge bar, it's not far from here, you'll see it'll be fun," she explained to her best friend, seeing his puzzled expression.
"Alright sweetheart, don't be too late," Jane replied with a smile. Jason merely nodded.
"So, goodbye and thank you. It's been a pleasure meeting you both," Harry said, approaching to shake hands with them.
Jane, to Harry's extreme embarrassment, moved his hand away and gave him a hug.
"Treat my Hermione well," she whispered to him without the others being able to hear, then released him and fixed him with a reassuring smile.
Harry, if he could have, would have blushed. He merely nodded, under Hermione's probing eyes.
"The pleasure was ours, Harry, you're welcome any time," Jason said, shaking his hand.
Heading towards the exit, Hermione said goodbye to her grandparents.
As she was hugging her grandmother, Harry thanked Mr. Granger again.
"Thank you, Sir. It was a pleasure meeting you."
"No problem. At least now you know, in case it ever happens, how to properly defend my granddaughter from a vampire."
Harry could swear he felt a chill run down his spine. "Of course. Goodbye then."
He chose very scrupulously not to shake Mr. Granger's hand. He highly doubted that, given his profession, he didn't have some protection against vampires on him.
Harry also shook hands with Hermione's grandmother, who complimented him on being so well-behaved and that he should visit them again.
Finally they were out the front door and walked to the pavement, down the driveway of the house.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione smiling at him.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing, I'm just happy," she replied simply.
Harry returned her smile. "Me too. You think they liked me?"
"Liked? I think they loved you."
Harry merely rolled his eyes and smiled. "If you say so, I believe it. Shall we go?"
"Yes," Hermione said, approaching and taking Harry by the arm.
Within the blink of an eye, they vanished.
They appeared in a small alleyway that jutted out across the street from the Lounge Bar. The Old Club had a flashy red LED sign. Harry could immediately see that the only thing 'old' about it was the word in its name. Indeed, the structure and even the inside of the place looked very recent, with a few tables outside, plausibly reserved for smokers, and inside, visible through the large windows that made up the entrance, was full of white sofas, tables, and a large central bar where the bartenders worked. Large loudspeakers were placed above the bar, echoing the music throughout the place. It was full of people, from the youngest who could be about their age, to people more in their thirties.
"It seems very cool," said Harry, surprised. "Since when do you like to frequent places like this?"
Hermione looked at him with a challenging grin. "What are you implying? Even I can have fun once in a while Potter, I'm not all books," she said sticking her tongue out at him.
Harry chuckled, "That seems more than fair."
"Once some family friends invited us for a cocktail at this place, and my parents and I found it very nice."
Harry nodded, understanding. "Come on, let's go."
He offered his arm to Hermione who gladly accepted with a smile.
As they entered, they were enveloped by the atmosphere of the place and the music. Harry headed unthinkingly towards a vacant table with a nice white circular couch around it, but Hermione held him back. He turned and looked at her questioningly.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"We have to go to the counter. Tables are only given to people who order a bottle of champagne or something expensive."
"Oh," said Harry. He arched his eyebrows, confused. "But don't you want to sit at a table? It seems to be more comfortable and private than just sitting at the counter."
"Yes... But-"
"Say no more," he smiled, and pulled her towards the vacant table where they sat down comfortably.
As if by magic, one of the local bartenders, a boy a little taller than Harry, blond-haired and blue-eyed and surfer-looking was immediately with them.
"Sorry guys, we only give tables for people who order from our list," he explained, referring to both of them, but looking only at Hermione with a smile. He evidently thought they were too young to afford a table at that place.
Harry cleared his throat forcibly and the boy almost unwillingly laid eyes on him. "In fact. By the way, can you bring me this list? I don't see it here."
The boy looked at him a little surprised, but of course he could do nothing but obey. "Oh, excuse me. I'll be right there," he said, heading back towards the counter.
"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Hermione, who must have obviously sensed some tension in his words.
He smiled and nodded. The last thing he wanted was to ruin his evening with Hermione over some miserable paranoia. "Sure, no problem."
"Do you think we will be able to afford anything without emptying our wallets?"
"We'll see. I'll try to keep my feet on the ground, don't worry."
The boy was back and handed the wine list to Harry. Then, to the extreme displeasure of the latter, instead of leaving, he started talking to Hermione.
"Have I seen you around here before? I'm Steve," he said with a smile turned to the girl, offering her his hand.
Harry stiffened his jaw so hard he could hear it creak dangerously. He simply clutched the list tighter and continued reading.
She looked at him a little surprised, arching her eyebrows, but shook the boy's hand briefly and answered him, not wanting to be rude. "I'm Hermione and this is my best friend, Harry," the girl said, searching the boy's green eyes that were fixed on the paper in front of him. "Possibly. I have relatives who live not far from here, I happened to come with them one time."
"Well, it's a pleasure Hermione. I hope to see you here often," Steve replied with a winking smile.
"Krug, 1988."
Hermione and Steve turned to stare at him. The former with a quizzical expression, the latter looking incredulously pale.
Harry, as if nothing had happened, closed the wine list and placed it on the table. Then, he turned to Hermione. "Would you like anything else, apart from champagne?"
"Oh, no Harry, thank you. I wouldn't want to overdo it," the girl explained with a small smile.
"That's it then," he said without even looking at Steve who, still with an ashen area, simply picked up the list and went to report the order.
"Are you sure everything is ok, Harry?"
He took a few seconds before answering. "I don't like the way he's acting towards you."
Hermione stared at him incredulously for what seemed like forever. Then, she burst out laughing.
Harry looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "Could you please explain to me what would be so funny?" he said arcing an eyebrow, but he had a smile on his face too.
"Harry... Are you jealous?" asked Hermione once she finished laughing, a smile plastered on her face.
He stood paralysed. Could it be that... Was it really for that reason?
"No, I mean, yes but no... Um..."
Hermione laughed again, and that sound, her laughter, inevitably made Harry smile as well. Although it was due to his embarrassment, he was glad that he was the reason she was laughing.
"Okay Granger, fine, you win. Maybe I'm a little jealous..." he said, rolling his eyes.
She looked at him, tilting her head slightly. She smiled and reached out a hand until she placed it on top of his. "Nothing to be jealous of, Mr Potter."
Harry swore he felt his heart somewhere near his ankles. Was it possible even though he no longer had a heartbeat? He merely continued to smile at Hermione and hold her hand. It was small and warm, with the softest skin he had ever touched.
"Did you see the look on Steve's face when you ordered? Who knows why, maybe there was something wrong with the bottle..." Hermione asked herself, a little annoyed, as if she was missing something.
"Oh, I guess because my impulsiveness made me order their most expensive bottle of champagne so I wouldn't have to see him making eyes at you anymore."
"YOU WHAT?"
"Excuse me. Here is your bottle you ordered."
They both turned and saw Steve with two glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other, placed in a container with ice and water to keep it cold. He placed the two glasses on the table and prepared to listlessly show the bottle to Harry, who nodded. Then he opened the bottle and poured a small amount into the glass, giving Harry time to taste it.
He moved the glass with small movements so that the liquid left small arches on the glass. Then he sniffed the champagne aromas with his nose and tasted it.
"All right."
Steve poured them both a fair amount of champagne and then placed the bottle inside the container with ice, then left.
"Harry-"
"Cheers, Hermione?" said Harry with a guilty smirk, raising his glass towards her.
She narrowed her eyes as if to say 'this isn't over', but she too lifted the glass and clinked it with him, then tasted the pale yellow liquid inside.
"Well, not that I'm an expert, but it looks pretty good to me," Hermione said, looking at Harry. "You seemed to know your stuff when you tasted it."
"It is good. I am no expert either, but I might have taken an interest and read something about it. Just some basic knowledge, but I can at least tell if a wine is bad or not," he said, smiling. "Come on, I'm sorry for being so impulsive, but really it was getting on my nerves terribly," Harry tried to justify himself.
"I understood that, Harry. But how are we going to pay for it now?"
"I think I have just enough in my wallet."
Hermione looked at him with a stunned face. "Sorry, but what kind of amount are we talking about?"
"Um... A... Thousand pounds."
She paled. "God, a thousand pounds? And why are you going with that kind of money in your wallet?"
Harry gave a sad smile and averted his gaze, looking at the champagne in his glass. "One of the things Sirius had taught me. You always have to have money for any eventuality that might come your way."
"Like your stubbornness?" she asked defiantly, also trying to bring her friend back into a better mood.
It worked, because he smiled back. "Let's just say that might be the biggest obstacle," he chuckled. "Anyway, I would never have let you split the bill."
Hermione looked away, a little offended. "Harry, I can totally handle my expenses, even if they're as sudden as these."
He was a little taken aback, but immediately realised it was his fault, he needed to be less superficial.
"Hermione, look at me," he told her, and she turned to stare at him. "I didn't mean anything like that by what I said. I know your independence is close to your heart. And I know perfectly well that you are capable of dealing with anything. It's just that I was happy to offer you something after being at your house... And, let's face it, it's an expense that if it weren't for me, wouldn't have been so onerous," Harry chuckled and he could see Hermione trying to restrain herself from doing so in turn. "Pardoned?" he asked, holding out a hand to her.
Hermione kept him on his toes for a bit, but then with a small smile she reached out her hand over Harry's and intersected her fingers with his. "Yes, Harry. Of course. I should have known you didn't mean anything like that with what you said earlier, it was kind of my fault too."
"What did you do with Hermione?" he stuck his tongue out at her.
"Git!" she said pinching his hand, but she was laughing.
Morale had recovered, and it promised to be an evening of laughter.
Hermione was definitely tipsy. Evidently she could hold alcohol a little less than Harry.
"I think we should go now, it's getting late and I don't want to take advantage of your parents' sympathy for me," Harry explained with a smile.
He looked around. There was only them left in the club, the music had stopped and the club was closing.
"Yeah, okay," Hermione made to get to her feet and almost went straight lying on the floor. Harry had caught her. "How did you do it? I was sure I had fallen," she said surprised.
"Quidditch helped, and the snitch was much smaller than you, so..." he laughed.
He helped her into her coat and they walked together to the till, where a kind man - fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, not Steve - charged Harry.
"Excuse me, where's the bathroom?" asked Hermione.
"Back there," said the man, pointing down a corridor to his right. "Second door on the left."
"Thanks. I'll be right there, Harry."
"Don't worry, take it easy."
Hermione nodded and headed for the bathroom.
When, after ten minutes, there was still no sign of the girl, Harry began to worry and had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He sharpened his hearing and concentrated. Slowly, some voices began to increase in intensity, until they were perfectly distinguishable, almost as if they were next to him.
"Steve, you've been very kind, but I really don't have the time right now, I have to get back to Harry."
"What's the rush? He can wait a little longer. Did I tell you you look very pretty, Hermione?"
Hermione was starting to get impatient, it had been a good five minutes since Steve had been bothering her. At first he may have appeared polite and gallant, but now he was becoming rather pushy.
"Yeah, like a hundred times in the last five minutes. I think I understand. I have to go now," she said, walking past him.
He grabbed her arm and slammed her against the bathroom wall, leaning his body against hers. "Why the hell do you have to be so difficult?"
"What are you doing? LEAVE ME!" squealed Hermione.
Probably, Harry would have heard that last scream even without his super-hearing, perhaps muffled by the closed bathroom door. But Hermione's voice booming in his brain, with such a note of terror, triggered something in him.
In a breath he was at the bathroom door, and opened it.
Steve was trying hard to kiss Hermione, while she tried to push him away with her hands on his chest and moved her head away, her eyes tightly closed, wanting to avoid him.
Hermione did not immediately understand why Steve pulled away so suddenly. At first she even thought that it was she, with an involuntary burst of magic, who had pushed him away.
However, when she opened her eyes and noticed Harry's broad shoulders covering her view, she realised that he must have heard her scream.
She made to grab his arm and drag him out, but it was like trying to move a statue. How was it possible that he could contract his muscles like that? He seemed to be made of steel.
"Harry, let's go, please," Hermione begged him, worried. Steve was taller than Harry, but he was wider and looked decidedly more dangerous.
"Not until he apologises to you," Harry replied ice cold, making Hermione shiver.
She turned for the first time to look at Steve, who was facing Harry.
It seemed, as possible as it was, that Harry had flown him across the room. He was sitting on the floor and holding his head, where a small trickle of blood was dripping onto his temple.
Harry began to walk towards Steve and Hermione was trying futilely, even pointing her feet, to stop his walk. "Harry, no! Please."
When they were close to him, Harry stopped. "So?"
Steve snapped fiercely and tried to land a well-placed uppercut on Harry's jaw.
He merely moved Hermione quickly behind him to avoid her being hit, and let the punch hit his jaw.
Harry's face flew upwards, and he could hear a shriek from Hermione behind him and a grin of satisfaction from Steve.
The latter's joy, however, was extinguished when, to his and Hermione's amazement, Harry simply stared back at him, as if nothing had happened.
"What the fuck are you?" asked Steve, who was now flattened against the wall, terrified.
Harry's hand flew to his throat and literally lifted him off the ground, suffocating him by crushing him against the wall. "I'm waiting," he said simply, in an extremely neutral tone.
"Harry! PLEASE STOP IT!" shouted Hermione, trying as best she could to remove her best friend's hand from Steve's throat, which was turning an increasingly blue colour.
"I... m... S-rry..." said Steve faintly, with the last bit of oxygen he probably had left in his body.
Harry suddenly dropped him to the ground. Then he stared into the boy's terrified eyes. "Forget we were here," he said simply, continuing to stare at him. "Forget."
Then he grabbed Hermione and they hurried out of the club.
When they were outside, Hermione waited until they were far enough away from the club, after a few minutes of walking, and she pulled away abruptly.
"What the heck has gotten into you, Harry? You were out of your mind," she said, shocked. "I thought you could really hurt him."
"I'm sorry... I held back... If I think he could have hurt you..." he slowly lifted a hand and laid it on one of Hermione's cheeks, stroking it with a movement of his thumb. She closed her eyes, losing herself in that caress. "I don't know what I would do if someone did hurt you. I'm sorry."
She opened her eyes and looked at the him, who had approached her. "Harry..."
"The moon and stars are nothing compared to you."
She blushed furiously and gasped as he moved his head closer until his nose touched hers. Butterflies were flying in both their stomachs, and they were enveloped in an ethereal feeling, almost as if they were in a dream. Only the night and the starry sky could observe the complicity of that moment.
Then, Harry kissed her.
And she, as surprised as she was, wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing herself to be overwhelmed by the feeling of comfort and security Harry gave her, holding her close to him.
The kiss was short-lived, but it was as if a sea of sensation swept over them.
"My heart is about to explode," Hermione said, to break the post-kiss tension.
They both found themselves laughing. "Yeah, I believe it," Harry said, with a big smile. "And I think we will probably no longer be welcome at the Old Club."
Hermione laughed in turn, while Harry pulled her close to him. She laid her head on his chest.
Harry was gleeful at that act of impulsiveness he had just done, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all. He was bursting with happiness at the very thought. He had finally kissed Hermione. What was going to happen now?
He felt Hermione tense up while still in his arms. "What, you regret it already?" said Harry chuckling.
But when he stepped back to look at her face, his smile faded faster than it had come about.
Hermione had paled conspicuously and was walking backwards, away from him.
The realisation of what had happened hit Harry like a bullet.
"Why isn't your heart beating?"