When you love someone, you would do anything in the world for them. Whether it be a family member, a friend, or a soul mate. Because doing things for them makes you happy. The satisfaction of seeing their smile, or their relief, or their comfort, or their safety. That makes you happy. It's quite a shame that most people don't understand how easy it is to be selfless. You just have to love someone.
Love is selfless
After quite a secluded summer at the Burrow, it felt strange going back to Hogwarts. Hermione had never before appreciated just how different normal teenagers' lives were to her own. Here she, Harry and Ron were, worrying over the fate of the Wizarding world, while most other people their age barely even acknowledged the fact that there was a war going on.
It frustrated her to no end to hear people talk about trivial things. Didn't they realize how much danger they were all in? Didn't they realize that people were dying? No. All they cared about was the latest article in Witch Weekly or the current standings of their favourite Quidditch teams.
And to add to her frustration, it seemed like more than half the population of Hogwarts (mostly the female half) had suddenly become star-struck with Harry all over again. And the last thing he needed was people constantly reminding him that he was, in fact, 'The Chosen One'.
Hermione really didn't anticipate the extent of female attention Harry would receive upon arriving at Hogwarts. Sure, Witch Weekly had been printing numerous articles about him in the last couple of months, but she didn't expect so many girls to have such a change of heart. After all, it was only last year that most of them thought Harry was a lying, attention-seeking prat. And now, even the most unlikely of girls would suddenly blush if Harry walked passed them.
Hermione found it almost comical. Could a simple magazine really have so much effect on people? Were they really incapable of formulating their own opinions? It would seem so, she decided.
"All I'm saying is, teenage girls are pathetic," Hermione stated plainly to Ginny as the two girls sat in Ginny's empty dormitory one night during the first week of term.
"Well, I can't really argue with you there, but don't you think you're still being a bit harsh?" Ginny asked, organizing the clothes in her trunk.
"No, not really," Hermione replied, as she sat back against the wardrobe with her arms crossed.
"I dunno...I mean it isn't all because of his fame..."
Hermione stared at Ginny inquiringly. "You've lost me."
"Well, he's gotten mightily more attractive this year, hasn't he?" Ginny stated matter-of-factly.
"He has?" Hermione asked, genuinely surprised.
Ginny chuckled heartily. "Oh come on, Hermione. You don't have to fancy him to notice how much more appealing he's become. It's not just the 'Chosen One' thing, it's the entire package," she stated again in that tone that made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Package?" Hermione asked dumbfounded.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Do I have to spell it out for you? He's hot, Hermione, he's hot."
"Who's hot?"
Both girls looked up to see one of Ginny's dorm mates enter the room.
"Harry Potter," Ginny answered.
The girl's eyes suddenly seemed to mist over. "Isn't he, though?" she responded enthusiastically, clearly eager to join in on the conversation.
Ginny gave Hermione a 'there-you-go' look, and Hermione simply smiled back at her uncertainly.
"Mind you, the fame hasn't really hurt him, either," Ginny said fairly.
"Right...well I'm going to have to wrap my head around that one..." Hermione said standing up from her position against the wardrobe. "I have to go read up on some Ancient Runes now, though, so I'll see you later."
Ginny smiled amusedly up at her. "You do that, Hermione."
When she returned back to her own dormitory, which was thankfully void of Lavender and Parvati at the moment, Hermione lay in her four-poster replaying the previous conversation in her head.
When in the world had Harry become so attractive that girls' eyes were misting over at the mere mention of him? Sure, he'd grown a few inches over the summer. And sure, his body had become much more defined and his features had lost almost all traces of baby fat. But was he really attractive?
"You don't have to fancy him to notice how much more appealing he's become..."
But I DO fancy him! Therefore, I should have noticed. How have I not noticed? I'm the observant one!
Turning on to her side, Hermione suddenly felt a sharp edge prod her ribs. She felt around underneath her for the source and pulled out a book from under the covers. It was one of the many books she had borrowed from the library the first day of term.
She let her eyes linger on the cover for a moment, her fingers tracing the title: The Dark Arts Defeated.
With a grim realization, she suddenly understood why Ginny's words seemed so foreign to her. Ever since Harry had told her and Ron about the prophecy, Hermione had really only been concerned with one thing. Keeping him alive. Everything else was sort of pushed to the backdrop of her mind.
What did it matter really? Whether Harry had become more attractive or not. It seemed almost ridiculous to ponder over a subject like that when there were much more important subjects to ponder over.
"Yes, but did you hear what she said?"
Hermione looked up to see Lavender and Parvati enter the room.
"I know, I know, but can you honestly even believe her anymore? You remember what Seamus told us last year..."
Hermione exhaled slowly, bending down to place the book in her hands on top of the growing pile beneath her bed. Closing the curtains around her four-poster, she turned back on her side and fell asleep.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were seated in the common room the next afternoon during their after-lunch free period, attempting to work on their Defence Against the Dark Arts homework.
"Blimey, this is horrible," Ron said, crossing out yet another sentence. "What in Merlin's name possessed Snape to become a teacher, anyway?"
Harry shrugged. "His love for children?"
Hermione giggled softly.
"How much time do we got left?" Ron asked, already packing his things away.
Hermione looked at her watch. "I guess we might as well start heading down to the dungeons. It's not like we're making much progress here."
Grabbing their bags, the three of them climbed out of the portrait hole and made their way down to Potions.
Four cauldrons were placed on the front desk, waiting for everyone as they entered the classroom. Hermione observed each of them carefully. The first two she knew for certain, the third she was easily able to figure out, and the fourth she was still trying to decipher.
"I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. Anyone tell me what this one is?"
Hermione's hand immediately shot into the air. "It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless, potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."
"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. He then gestured at the second cauldron. "Who can—?"
Hermione's hand flew up once more. "It's polyjuice potion, sir." She had enough experience with that to last a lifetime.
"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here...yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused.
"It's Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world!" she said.
"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"
"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals. And it's supposed to smell differently to each of us according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and—"
The clean scent of soap.
Hermione suddenly felt her face heat up.
Harry...
Out of the corner of her eye she could she him staring at her curiously.
Yeah no big deal...I just smelled your scent in a love potion.
"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, startling Hermione.
"Hermione Granger, sir."
"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dogwarth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"
"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."
Hermione noticed Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something causing them both to snigger. She could feel Harry tense up beside her and looked up to see him glaring menacingly at them. Although the taunting and prejudice towards her blood no longer affected her in the same way it used to, she still felt a rush of gratitude towards Harry, nonetheless.
Unlike Malfoy, Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary he beamed down at Hermione and then looked to Harry.
"Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry.
It took a moment for Hermione to realize what Slughorn had just said. But when she did, a sudden warmth seemed to erupt inside her chest. She looked up at Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"
"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron, who for some reason looked annoyed. "You are the best in our year—I'd have told him so if he'd asked me!"
Hermione smiled at him, feeling slightly guilty that coming from Ron, the words didn't have nearly as much affect on her.
In an effort to make that distinction less obvious, she quickly turned her attention back to Slughorn. He was currently introducing the last cauldron, which Hermione immediately identified as Felix Felicis.
"Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavours tend to succeed...at least until the effects wear off."
Hermione along with everyone else in the room simply stared at the bottle in awe. And the awe transformed into intense desire as Slughorn announced that it would be given as a prize for the best brewed Draught of Living Death potion.
"I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"
Hermione could hear her heart beating excitedly in her ears as she immediately turned on the fire beneath her cauldron. It was as if the door to an entire corridor-full of opportunities had just burst open in front of her. Because if there was one thing that her, Ron, and most importantly Harry, would need in the coming months, it was luck. And she had to be the one to provide it. After all, Harry and Ron weren't exactly the greatest potioneers of their age...
And so, Hermione worked diligently the rest of the period, Slughorn's words continuously ringing in her ears.
'You will find that all your endeavours tend to succeed.'
'All your endeavours tend to succeed.'
'All your endeavours tend to succeed...'
Why is this blasted thing still purple? It's supposed to be a pale pink!
Come on! Turn pink!
Hermione let out a huff of frustration. She turned to read the clock on the wall only to do a double-take at Harry's cauldron. His potion had somehow turned the perfectly pale pink colour the textbook described.
"How are you doing that?" Hermione asked him in awe.
"Add a clockwise stir—"
"No, no, the book says counter clockwise!"
Harry simply shrugged and continued what he was doing.
Hermione stared at his cauldron for a few more seconds before focusing her attention back to her own which had now at least turned a shade of pink.
Yet, it still wasn't nearly as pale as Harry's.
Then do what Harry did.
What, so I could ruin a perfectly brewed potion? No, thank you!
It seemed to work for him.
In appearance, maybe. But he's probably gone and altered the composition. I can't risk that!
Fine, have it your way then.
"And time's...up!" called Slughorn suddenly. "Stop stirring, please!"
Hermione watched nervously as Slughorn began walking around, looking into everyone's cauldrons but making no comments.
As he approached her, Hermione was fairly sure he gave her cauldron a nod of approval. But when he saw Harry's, a look of incredulous delight immediately spread over his face.
"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are—one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"
Hermione watched as Slughorn slipped the bottle into Harry's hands.
She was happy for him, of course. Why wouldn't she be? She'd wanted to win the Felix Felicis for him in the first place. But some part of her was also just the smallest bit disappointed...Because she wanted to be the one to hand the bottle over to Harry. She wanted to be the one to win it for him.
But why?
Did she want the glory? Did she want the satisfaction? Did she want Harry to grovel at her knees in gratitude?
No. No. And definitely not.
Well, what is it then?
I don't know...Maybe I just like doing things for people!
Or maybe you just like doing things for Harry.
Hermione considered that statement for a moment as everyone gathered their things at the end of the class period. But it felt as if there was something else. Some other part of that reason that she had yet to completely understand.
"How did you do that?" Ron whispered to Harry as they left the dungeon.
Hermione nearly stopped in her tracks. She had been so wrapped up in all her musings that she completely forgot to ask Harry that exact same question. How did he do it?
It wasn't until they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor table for dinner, however, that Harry explained everything to them.
A book. With orders. That Harry blindly followed.
That was what Hermione got out of the conversation, anyway.
"I s'pose you think I cheated?" Harry said, looking aggravated.
Hermione had been just about to open her mouth to scold him for acting so carelessly, when his words suddenly cut her off.
Did he really think that was what she was upset about? She struggled slightly, trying to find the right words to make him understand.
"He only followed different instructions to ours," said Ron. "Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But he took a risk and it paid off."
"That's exactly the problem!" Hermione was about to exclaim. Except this time she was cut off by Ginny.
"Hang on. Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?"
Finally someone understands!
"It's nothing," Harry said reassuringly, lowering his voice. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled on."
"But you're doing what it says?"
"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny, there's nothing funny—"
"We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?" Hermione added, taking the book out of Harry's bag and casting a revealing charm on it.
But nothing happened. The book simply lay there, looking old and dirty and dog-eared.
"Finished?" said Harry irritably. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few back flips?"
Hermione reluctantly handed the book back to him. Something about it still felt strange, but she would let it go for now.
The second week of term had finally come to an end. So many things seemed to happen in this short time span, and it was starting to slowly overwhelm Hermione. With her schoolwork, Harry's lessons with Dumbledore, Harry's theories about Malfoy, her worries over whoever the Half-Blood Prince was, Ron's insecurities about making the Quidditch team, Hagrid's refusal to speak with them for not taking his class, the fate of the Wizarding world, her parents' safety, Harry's safety, Harry in general...
It was all just a bit too much. But then Hermione had to wonder if there was ever a time since she came to Hogwarts where it wasn't. Or rather, since she became friends with Harry.
She let her eyes travel from the book she was reading to Harry who was currently sitting across from her at the breakfast table, buttering his toast. She watched as he proceeded to bite around the edges, rotating the bread slowly until he reached the middle.
Hermione had seen him do this a hundred times in the past, yet she never once said anything. It was just some weird habit of his.
"Why do you do that?" she said suddenly.
Harry looked up at her confused. "What?" he asked through a mouthful of toast.
"That. That thing with your toast," she stated.
"Oh..." he said, looking down at his toast as if seeing it for the first time. "Well...I don't know...I'm not really fond of the crust so I eat it all first to get it over with. And then I just like eating around the edges after, I guess..."
Hermione smiled amusedly. "Wouldn't it be easier to just stuff the thing in your mouth like a normal person?"
"Says the girl who uses a knife and fork to eat a chicken leg."
"It's much more sanitary."
"Maybe. But it's definitely not as satisfying."
Hermione was just about to open her mouth to retort when a tall dark-haired girl tapped Harry on the shoulder.
"Hi, Harry!" she said in an overly sugary voice. "I was just wondering what time Quidditch tryouts are this morning."
"Nine," he answered.
The girl smiled brilliantly, placing her hand on Harry's arm. "Thanks, Harry. You're so helpful. I'll see you at nine, then!"
Hermione simply stared at the girl. And at the girl's hand which was still resting on Harry's arm.
"Er...yeah," Harry replied. "See you."
"Well," Hermione said as the girl walked away, "I'm sure she'll be a great asset to the team, considering she's a Hufflepuff."
Harry appeared to have choked on his juice. He turned his head quickly and watched as the girl made her way back to the Hufflepuff table. "Do you think she's mad?" he asked seriously.
Hermione tried her best to hold back the laugh that was threatening to escape her. "No...no, I don't think so, Harry..."
"Well it's either that or she's just thoroughly confused," Harry said, turning back around to face Hermione.
She may be many things, but she's definitely not confused, Hermione thought as she stared at Harry.
She couldn't help but wonder how she had been so blind to his physical transformation over the summer. All traces of childhood seemed to have disappeared from his features. He looked like a man. And he was a man. After everything he'd gone through and everything he'd discovered, he was forced into a sort of prematurity. And she hated it, but there was nothing in the world she could do about it.
As she continued staring at Harry, butterflies erupted inside her stomach for what seemed like no apparent reason. He was talking to Ron who had just joined them at the breakfast table. Just talking. It was an utterly normal thing to do. Yet, it made her heart beat just a little bit faster.
Ginny had been correct. Harry was actually...rather hot.
And she had absolutely no idea when that happened.
Even using 'Harry' and 'hot' in the same sentence felt remarkably strange to her, but there was no denying it. And suddenly...everything about him just seemed that much more appealing...
Oh good lord...I've turned into one of his fan girls...what's next, I start talking about him in the lavatories and trying out for his stupid Quidditch team and spiking his drinks with love potion?
Oh wait, no, because you're not shallow and pathetic.
I'm not?
I guess we'll find out, won't we?
"So, erm, we should really go down to see Hagrid. I expect he's still pretty upset with us," Hermione said, attempting to deviate from the current subject on her mind.
"We'll go down after Quidditch," Harry stated. "But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied. I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."
Surely he wasn't that oblivious?
"Oh come on, Harry! It's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting, and frankly...you've never been more fanciable."
Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione looked at him oddly before turning back to Harry.
"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One'—well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"
But Harry just looked slightly uncomfortable.
Should I add that he's also gotten 'mightily more attractive'?
"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either," Hermione finished, deciding it was best not to add to his discomfort.
"I'm tall!" said Ron.
Hermione once again looked at Ron oddly. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, and she thought she saw a hint of disappointment in them. She knew Ron to get jealous from time to time, even competitive. But what was there to be disappointed about?
But before she could dwell on it for too long, the post owls arrived, bringing with them two identical packages for Harry and Ron.
"Oh good," said Hermione, delighted as she saw the new copies of Advanced Potion-Making. "Now you can give that graffitied copy back."
"Are you mad?" said Harry. "I'm keeping it! Look, I've thought it out—"
Feeling utterly scandalized, Hermione watched as Harry magically broke off the cover of the new Potions book. It was almost painful to witness.
And to add to her horror, he proceeded to switch the cover from the Half-Blood Prince's book with the new book.
She had held on to some small hope that he would perhaps get rid of the wretched thing, but now that hope was gone.
She didn't know why she'd done it. It was a completely irresponsible, disobedient, dishonest, reckless thing to do. So why did she do it?
"His sister didn't really try," said McLaggen menacingly. "She gave him an easy save."
"Rubbish," said Harry coldly. "That was the one he nearly missed."
Hermione watched as McLaggen took a step nearer Harry, and she immediately reached for her wand.
"Give me another go."
"No," said Harry. "You've had your go. You saved four. Ron saved five. Ron's Keeper, he won it fair and square. Get out of my way."
For a moment, Hermione thought McLaggen might punch Harry, but thankfully he contented himself with an ugly grimace and stormed away. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and made her way over to the team.
"You did brilliantly, Ron!"
Ron seemed to look happier than she'd seen him in a long time as he grinned at the team and then at her.
And suddenly she didn't feel quite as guilty about Confunding McLaggen, anymore. She knew Ron had the talent, he just needed the confidence. And besides McLaggen was a downright arse in every sense of the word. Nobody would have wanted him on the team, anyway. She'd done the right thing. At least she hoped so...
But as they came into the castle after visiting Hagrid's they spotted none other than McLaggen entering the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors. He ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt. To Hermione's relief, Ron merely guffawed gloatingly and strode off into the Hall after him.
Certain she was off the hook, she made to quickly follow him inside, when she felt someone catch her arm and hold her back.
Her heart instantly sped up as she came face to face with Harry.
"What?" she asked defensively, hoping he wouldn't notice her quick pulse beating in the wrist where his hand was still wrapped around.
"If you ask me," said Harry quietly, "McLaggen looks like he was Confunded this morning. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting."
Oh crap.
Hermione could feel herself blushing from embarrassment.
Well, no point denying it...
"Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny! Anyway, he's got a nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn't get in—you wouldn't have wanted someone like that on the team."
"No," said Harry. "No, I suppose that's true. But wasn't that dishonest, Hermione? I mean you're a prefect, aren't you?"
Oh my God...he's right. I'm a terrible person. I should just turn in my badge right now. Better yet...I should turn myself into Dumbledore. Oh shoot...he's away from the castle...I guess McGonagall will have to do...
Shut. Up.
And that was when she noticed Harry smirking at her.
"Oh, be quiet," she snapped, shoving him in the shoulder as he chuckled softly.
"What are you two doing?" demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.
"Nothing," said Harry and Hermione together, as they hurried after Ron.
And all throughout the rest of dinner, Hermione could not for the life of her get rid of the excited bubble that had formed in the pit of her stomach (Not that she really wanted to). Because all the while, one question seemed to be forming in her mind:
Did Harry and I just...flirt?
A/N: I'M SORRY. I know I took forever to update and I'm so very sorry. School is my excuse and I hate it but I promise I'll try harder to next time! After next week, I'm hoping to update AT LEAST once every two weeks? Yes, reality sucks. But anyway, I really want to thank all of you for the feedback I recieved last chapter. It was fantastic and helped me so incredibly much and I hope you guys can continue to praise, criticize, correct, comment, and just say whatever is on your minds because that's what I want to hear. Thank you again and I hope you enjoy this chapter!