Chapter Nine: Beautiful Soul
Hermione was avoiding him.
Harry didn't have to be a genius to figure that out when she all but turned and headed in the opposite direction when she spotted him in the corridor as he walked to the Great Hall with Luna.
"What did you do to 'Mione?" Luna asked him, laughing at their now mutual friend's antics.
"I kissed her."
Luna stopped walking, and immediately brought him to a stop as well. "Wait, what? You did what?"
Harry let out a long breath, his eyes flicking about to see just how much attention Luna was drawing to them. "Yesterday, when she followed me up to my room after we dropped you and Neville off after practice; I ended up kissing her."
"And then what happened?"
"Exactly what I predicted, Luna," he said tiredly. "She panicked and ran."
Luna narrowed her eyes. "Did you go after her?"
"I couldn't," he informed her, silently berating his still-sore muscles. "She was just gone, hiding in her dormitory... and now she's not talking to me, or even looking at me, so you know..."
"That's it? You give up?"
"Of course not," he said heatedly. "It's just, right now, what am I supposed to do when she won't even look at me?" he asked, sounding breathless. "You saw that. She practically ran for the hills at the sight of me."
Luna took a deep breath. "I don't even know where you go off kissing her, Harry. I told you tell her how you feel about her."
He gave her a pointed a look. "Trust me, Luna, kissing her was a lesser evil. I don't even know what to make of my own feelings."
"Really?" Luna sounded mildly surprised. "That bad, huh?"
"I think it's Sirius bad," he said, nodding his head as they started to walk again. "I need to get her to talk to me, but how do I do that when she's decided on avoiding me like the plague? She'll go straight up to her dorm after class, and I just know she won't come to the Great Hall if she can help it."
Luna thought about it for a moment, visibly making a decision. "Look, just be in the library at four o'clock, and I'll make sure that she's there."
"How on earth do you expect to do that?"
"I think it's best that you not know," she said quietly. "Just know that, when I ask, you owe me a pass, okay?"
Harry looked skeptical. "Why? What have you done?"
"Nothing. Just, promise?"
"Fine, I promise."
"Four o'clock." She said it so firmly, that he had no choice but to believe her.
And he wasn't disappointed.
True to Luna's word, Hermione Granger was standing over Harry's table in the library, glaring at him, at exactly four o'clock. She looked about as put out as a person could possibly look, and it took all his control not to burst out laughing.
"Remind me to kill Luna," Hermione muttered as soon as Harry looked up. "And to totally disown her as a friend as well."
"Hi to you too," he said, risking a smile.
"I'm mad at you too," she said, dropping her bag onto the table rather violently. "Don't think I don't know that the two of you are in cahoots."
He sighed, as he stood up and moved to stand in front of her. "Don't be mad at her," he said quietly, trying to sound soothing. "She was just trying to help."
"By doing what?" she asked in annoyance. "Tricking me into thinking that Jack was planning something sinister against you. I'm mightily unimpressed, Harry Potter."
"Well, I am too."
"I don't care."
"Why have you been avoiding me?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, huffing in annoyance.
"No, not to me."
"Then it's not my fault you're so thick and can't take a hint," she said pointedly, folding her arms across her chest.
He couldn't help his flinch. He'd expected her to run, but he hadn't expected this. Whatever the hell this even was. "Why are you so mad?" he asked again, reading the twitch of her upper lip for what it was. Pure anger. And nervousness.
"Why am I so mad?" she asked rhetorically, her tone turning sarcastic. "I'm the one who was dragged here under the pretence that - "
"No," he cut her off, risking more of her wrath. "Why are you so mad at me? Before."
She glared at him. "You kissed me."
"I know."
"And now everything is ruined."
He frowned. "Why does everything have to be ruined?"
"Because," she said, shaking her head. "Honestly, what did you expect to happen, Harry? That the world would just magically fix itself because we kissed?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"I like you, Granger," he said seriously, his emerald eyes meeting her hazel brown ones, holding them captive. "I want to be with you."
She froze, her head spinning slightly. Nobody had ever just come out right and said those words to her, and she wasn't sure how to respond. What was a person even supposed to say to that? And those eyes. Couldn't he just put them away for a little while or something?
"Granger?" he queried, unaware of the short circuit in her brain. "Say something, please?"
She dropped her gaze, her body deflating slightly. "What about Ginny?" she asked, practically whispering.
"I don't like Ginny," he said sternly. "I don't even know Ginny. But I know you, and I like you."
She cleared her throat. "We were good as friends, Harry."
"And we'll be even better at this," he countered. "I just know it."
"How can you?" she asked, her voice low and raspy. For the first time, Harry was able to see what she was trying so hard to hide. She was scared. God, she was petrified. Didn't she think that anyone would want her? Didn't she believe that he desperately did?
Harry leaned forward, resisting the urge to reach out and take one of her hands in his. "I know that you want this too," he said slowly.
"I don't," she argued halfheartedly.
"It's okay," he said, risking a smile at her stubbornness. "We'll do things slowly, okay? The right way. You can tell me when it's getting too much. But I want this, Granger. I want you."
She shook her head. "Do you even know what you're saying? Have you forgotten who I am? Who you are? Who we are?"
"No I haven't forgotten," he said seriously. "I know exactly who you are, Granger."
And that was probably the part that scared Hermione the most. He claimed to know, and yet here he was, still professing to wanting to be with her. Were all Potter men this insane? And damn stupid!
"Don't you want this?" he asked quietly, suddenly doubting himself. Had he read everything so terribly wrong? "Just say so, and we can forget that any of this happened," he offered, his heart twisting painfully as he said the words out loud. He would find a way to make it happen, if it was what she wanted. He just couldn't lose her; in any way.
"No," she said, looking at him. "I don't want that."
"Then what do you want?"
"We were just talking," she said, practically whispering; "but now I'm attached to you."
Harry said nothing as he continued to watch her, trying to figure out what she needed him to say. Clearly, this bothered her to no end and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her by involuntarily revealing the depths of his own feelings.
"This is never going to work, you know," she said, dropping her gaze.
"Maybe it will, maybe it won't," he replied, trying to sound calm, but his voice still shook. "But I want to try."
"Okay." Her voice came out in a whisper, and Harry's heart lurched in his chest. What did she say?
But it was when she gave him the small smile that he loved, and his breath caught in his throat, that his brain accepted it. She'd said okay.
Once more, Harry couldn't resist the urge to kiss her. His body propelled itself forward of its own accord and his lips touched hers, tender at first, until she started to respond. Their first kiss had been nothing like this. He'd been uncertain and she'd been unsure. And then panicked. It had ended as quickly as it began.
But not this one.
Harry moved the hand that was on her cheek to the back of her neck, his fingers playing with her hair. His other hand touched her waist, absently drawing her closer to him as his tongue ventured forward to part her lips.
She moaned against his mouth, her hands running up his arms to bury her fingers in his hair. She ended up changing the angle, merely deepening the kiss and turning his brain to mush. Eventually, they had to pull apart when air became a problem, and he held onto her waist but she dropped her hands from his neck.
Harry wouldn't have been able to stop his smile if he tried. "Hermione," he breathed, using her first name for the first time, ever.
A smile was playing on her lips but she looked more panicked than she had before. "Don't," she said softly. "Just… don't."
"Okay."
"This is crazy, Harry," she said, stepping back and bringing her hands up to play with them right in front of her stomach. She was biting at her bottom lip, clearly thinking hard about what was happening; what would happen and how this would all be received by the great big world.
"Stop trying to analyse it," he told her. "I like you. I'm pretty sure that you like me. What else is there?"
She glanced at him. "Oh, well, you're just so confident in my feelings for you then, aren't you?"
He grinned at her. "I am."
And then she was kissing him again, tugging on his shirt with her nimble fingers. Harry took hold of her hands, entwining their fingers as his lips moved from hers, along her jaw towards her neck, and then back again.
Hermione came to her senses quickly, remembering where they were, and who they were, and pulled back from him quite suddenly. She placed her hands flat on his chest, kissed his lips one last time and then pushed him back slightly.
Harry didn't go too far. "Hi," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.
"Hi back," she breathed, her eyes shining. "This is crazy," she said again.
"But you like it."
"Mmm," she sounded; "Maybe, maybe not."
He laughed lightly, reaching for her hands again and entwining their fingers. She was so warm and soft and he swore he could remain in this position for the rest of his pitiful life. Just with her.
Always with her.
"You called me Hermione," she whispered.
He blinked. "I did?" Then: "I did. Damn."
"Who knew that all I had to do was kiss you?" she teased.
"Excuse me, but I was the one to kiss you."
"Semantics."
She smiled contently, her eyes never once straying from his face. "What are you thinking about?" she asked softly, as if speaking too loud would break the spell of whatever was happening between them.
He took a deep breath. "I want to go on a date with you," he said seriously. "A real one."
She blinked.
"I want us to get all dressed up, and go out to lunch in Hogsmeade. I want to get all nervous about possibly saying the wrong thing, and I want to hesitate before taking hold of your hand because I'm unsure whether you'd like it or not. And then, at the end of the day, I want to drop you off right at the stairs leading up to your dormitories and share a perfect first kiss."
Hermione was blushing, her eyes teary and her smile fixed.
"How does that sound?"
She absently squeezed the fingers of the hands she was holding. "Sounds perfect."
His eyes widened. "Really?"
She was smiling as she nodded. "Our next outing to Hogsmeade is on the sixteenth," she informed him.
"Is that okay?"
"I don't know; you tell me."
Harry responded by giving her giving her an Eskimo kiss, which made her giggle.
"That tickles," she let him know.
"Would you rather I used my lips instead?"
She giggled again. "Oh, so smooth, Harry Potter."
He placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. "I don't even know what you were so worried about," he said softly, almost whispering.
Hermione could feel her walls crumbling down. She just knew that he would be the person she would eventually tell about all her worries and all her fears. Harry wouldn't laugh or tell her she was stupid to think that her parents didn't love her.
No, Harry would hold her close and assure her. Just by being who he was, he would protect her.
This was the boy who was going to save her.
"Luna?" Hermione was, admittedly, a little nervous. It made sense that she would be, given what she was about to ask.
The blonde Ravenclaw smiled at the brunette, somewhat knowingly. "Hello, Hermione," she said dreamily. "What can I do for you?"
Hermione immediately sat down on the bench next to Luna, dropping the volume of her voice. "I need a favour," she said seriously. This was a serious matter.
Luna turned her body to give the brunette her full attention. "Anything."
Hermione frowned slightly, not used to this. Normally, she'd have to bargain with her Gryffindor friends to get them to do anything for her. And, well, it wasn't as if she'd told them about her date with Harry. She definitely wasn't looking forward to their reactions to the news. It was one thing for her to be his friend, but an entirely different thing for her to date him.
She was going on a date with Harry.
"Hermione?" Luna prompted.
"I'm going on a date with Harry," she said out loud, and her heart rate automatically picked up just at the sound of hearing it said.
"Finally," Luna commented, smiling widely. Then: "When?" she asked, as if Harry hadn't already told her. He'd literally done a happy dance when he finally explained to her and Neville how he and Hermione were going on a date. Luna didn't think she'd ever seen him that happy.
"On Saturday," Hermione replied.
"Makes sense."
Hermione took a deep breath. "I have to look perfect," she said, dropping her gaze. "And, well, I'm not really sure what to wear, and I was wondering if you could help me."
Luna nodded her head in thought. "You have to look perfect because it's your first date?"
Hermione shook her own head. "No," she answered truthfully; "because it's Harry."
Luna regarded the brunette for a long moment, seeing the slight crease in her brow and the odd twitch in her upper lip. Hermione Granger was nervous. "Wow, you really do like him, don't you?"
Hermione didn't immediately deny it. "Can you tell?" she asked.
"I can," she said with a smile.
"Do you think he can?" she asked; "Because he'd be so smug about it."
Luna giggled, knowing full well that Harry would probably tease her mercilessly about it. "If he was looking hard enough, he might be able to," she admitted, deciding on the truth. "But I reckon he's in the same boat, so you're safe."
She nervously played with her hands. "It's just that, umm, he's the first great boy I've actually dated and that really scares me."
Luna smiled widely. "That's good, because he's rather terrified too."
Hermione laughed lightly. "So I want to wear the perfect outfit on Saturday."
Luna suddenly took Hermione's hand, startling the older witch. "You do realise that I'm not exactly known for perfect outfits, right?"
Hermione couldn't help her smile. "I might have noticed," she said. "But I'm almost certain you won't steer me in the wrong direction."
"As long as you know," she sing-songed. It took a moment for her features to turn serious again. "Hermione, why aren't you asking Ginny to help you get ready?"
Hermione, undoubtedly, took her time answering the question. "Well, umm, she isn't quite on board with the whole Harry and Hermione thing."
"Because of Jack?"
"I think so," Hermione said. "We haven't really spoken about it, and I think that she thinks I'm being a bad friend, which I'm not. Not really. It's just that, well, she's not that great to be around at the moment. She's a real dampener, and I'm just trying to enjoy this time with Harry. I don't want to be made to feel guilty about it."
Luna just nodded her understanding.
"She just doesn't understand that there are no sides," Hermione continued, knowing that Luna would be someone to understand. "Not when it comes to Jack and Harry. It's James we've got to worry about."
Luna did understand that. Just in the few times she'd seen James Potter, she knew that he wasn't that great of a human being, let alone a man. There was something undeniably dark about him, and she didn't need to hear Jack or Harry's war stories to figure out that she didn't like the older Potter. At all.
"So how do we do this then?" the blonde asked.
Hermione took a breath. "Well, uh, I'm sure that I can sneak you into Gryffindor Tower, if you're okay with that."
Luna beamed at her. "Ooh, an adventure! I can't wait."
And Hermione truly felt as if Luna was genuinely happy for her. It was something new that she was going to have to come to accept. She didn't receive this kind of unwavering support from her parents, or from her friends, not really. But now there was Luna, and there was Harry. She sometimes got the feeling that Neville wasn't much of a fan of her, but she couldn't be sure.
Hermione was still in a bit of a daze as she headed to the Gryffindor table. She was going on a date with Harry. How was she supposed to get through the day without telling anyone? Let alone the rest of the week.
Would someone notice that she was acting differently? What was going to happen when the rest of the student body found out?
She was going on a date with Harry.
Suddenly, she didn't even care.
"So, tomorrow, you and I are going to have to hang out with Dean and Seamus," Ron said, interrupting Hermione's reading. "Apparently, Ginny claims that Jack hasn't been giving her enough attention."
Hermione sighed audibly, as she closed her book. She loved Ron, really she did, but sometimes she wanted to hit him. He just had no tact, and it was bound to get him in deep trouble at some point in his life. "What's happening tomorrow?" she asked patiently.
Ron glanced about the Common Room, making sure that neither Jack nor Ginny were within hearing distance. "Our best friend and your best friend are going on a date," he said, shuddering at merely the thought of it.
Hermione might have been amused, if she didn't know that she was going on one too.
"So, you know, I don't really want to spend all my time in Hogsmeade with just you, so we're going to spend the day with Dean and Seamus."
Hermione knew he was just being Ron, but she couldn't stop herself from asking: "And I don't get a say then?"
"Oh, come off it, Hermione," he said, smiling lazily; "who else would you hang out with?"
Hermione's head snapped towards him. "Just what is that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice taking on a dangerous quality and her insecurities threatening to kick in.
He laughed, clearly not hearing the edge in her tone of voice. "What? Do you want to spend your time alone then?"
"What makes you think I'd be alone?"
"Who else would you go with? It's not like you actually have any other friends."
It was said so casually, that Hermione felt her heart constrict painfully. Did he think her incapable of making friends that weren't them? "I have other friends," she said through gritted teeth.
"Who? Black and his troop? Oh, come on, Hermione, be serious," he said, sounding so amused that Hermione felt her eyes prick with tears. "They aren't your friends. They don't even care about you. Don't you see that Black's just using you to get to Jack!"
Hermione blinked. Is that what he thought? Is that what they all thought? She looked around the Common Room. Her conversation with Ron wasn't going unnoticed, and she hated the attention. "Do you think I'm stupid?" she asked Ron, more viciously than she initially intended. "Honestly, do you really think me so daft that I would ever fall for that kind of ruse, if it were remotely true?"
Ron sputtered, surprised by the tone of her voice. "Hermione?"
"No!" she practically hissed as she rose to her feet to look him - sort of - in the eye. "I have other friends, Ron! They're great, amazing people. They are my friends, and I don't want to hear you talking about them like that ever again. Do I make myself clear?"
"Granger?"
Hermione and Ron turned their heads towards the person who spoke. Harry was standing at the entrance to the Common Room, having just come in from goodness knows where, looking slightly abashed. What had he just walked into?
"Is everything okay?" Harry asked kindly, his eyes never straying from Hermione's reddening face.
"Everything is fine," Ron said curtly.
Harry didn't even blink out of sync, his eyes solely on Hermione. "I wasn't talking to you, Weasley." He stepped towards her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, though her bottom lip quivered, and he definitely noticed. "We're just having a bit of a disagreement," she explained vaguely. "I have it under control."
Harry fought internally, his urge to protect her threatening to overwhelm his knowledge that she was perfectly capable of handling her own. It was a true testament to his control that he was able to nod his head once, and then head through the Common Room towards the boys' dormitories.
Hermione watched him go, feeling somewhat relieved that he didn't try to insert himself into her discussion with Ronald Weasley. He didn't need to be here for any of this. He deserved more. She'd failed him so many times before; she could at least protect him this way.
"See?" Ron suddenly said. "Bloke doesn't even have a backbone enough to stick up for his supposed friend."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "And just why would he have to stick up for me?" she asked. "Am I not currently having a conversation with my friend as well?"
"It's different," he said automatically. "Bloody hell, Hermione, you're just blowing this all out of proportion. All I said is that we're hanging out with Dean and Seamus tomorrow."
"Well, I'm not," she said stiffly.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm spending the day with my other friends," she snapped. "Or is it that you want me to ask your permission?"
He glared at her. "You're picking them over me?"
"What is it with you Weasleys and picking sides?" she asked in disbelief. "I like them, Ron." She made sure to use the pronoun 'them' instead of just referring to Harry, mainly because she wasn't yet ready to deal with the emotional blowup that would surely occur when they found out that she was going on a date with him. "And, frankly, I like them a hell of a lot more than I do you, Jack and Ginny right now."
Ron's mouth dropped open.
"Don't look so surprised," she snapped again. Merlin, she was riled up. "What did you think was going to happen when all the three of you do is talk badly about them anyway?" she huffed. "So, yeah, don't just assume things," she finished, the entire thing feeling a little anti-climactic. Hermione was never really one for flare. She didn't wait a moment more, as she departed the Common Room, and followed the path that Harry had taken up the stairs.
Hermione found him digging around in his trunk. "Hey, you," she said from the doorway.
He immediately stood up, spiralling to face her. He took in her slightly haggard expression, and then stalked towards her, wrapping his arms around her small frame and holding her close. How was it that he knew exactly what she needed?
Hermione hadn't expected this reaction, but immediately relaxed into his embrace, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Her arms snaked around his waist and she held him just as tightly, enjoying the prolonged contact. They'd never hugged for this long before, and Hermione made a vow to do it more often.
Harry, somewhat reluctantly, loosened his grip on her so he could see her face, though he didn't fully release her. "Are you really okay?" he asked.
She nodded. "I think I overreacted," she confessed. "I suppose I'm a little, uh, nervous about tomorrow. Tense, maybe. But Ron really was being a tool, so I don't know. Lots of things are going on in my head right now."
Harry softly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I can only imagine."
"I haven't told them about the date," she said slowly, suddenly wary of his reaction to that bit of news. "Are you mad?"
"Why would I be mad?"
She sighed. "I don't know."
Harry kissed her forehead. "Granger, I told you that we would do this at your pace," he said softly. "You tell them whenever you're ready, okay? Though, you know, after I parade you around Hogsmeade tomorrow; they might have their suspicions."
"We'll deal with it then," she declared. "I don't want to be in a bad mood before tomorrow. I want to enjoy it."
"That's putting a lot of pressure on a bloke," he said, offering her an amused smile. "What if you're disappointed?"
"Doubtful, Potter."
"I'm going to hold you to that, Granger," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Now that he was allowed to, he was tempted to pepper every inch of her face with adoring kisses. Her skin was just so soft, and she smelled so nice. He was a little obsessed, really.
"You're frowning," Hermione said, eyeing him suspiciously. "What's wrong?"
He couldn't help his grin. "Is it terribly childish to want to remain in this position for the rest of our lives?"
As a response, Hermione tugged him closer, their bodies pressing together. "Not childish, no," she said sincerely. "Somewhat unrealistic, but definitely not childish."
He kissed her other cheek, merely enjoying how easy it was for them to take this step towards more. He couldn't even fathom how he had survived anything less, before he'd known her; before he'd developed feelings for her.
Hermione reluctantly pulled back further. "I should go," she said sadly. "Don't want to be caught in here by your roommates."
"Reckon they'd think we were getting on?" he asked, winking at her.
She ignored his comment. "It'd be fine for me to stay if you didn't have your arms wrapped around me," she pointed out.
Harry huffed. "I'm never letting you go."
Hermione kept her eyes on him. "That is perfectly fine with me, Potter."
Harry kissed her lips this time, and they fell into a deep, heart-stopping kiss that could have gone on for hours had Hermione not struggled out of his possessive grip to get some much-needed air. She pulled away, her heart racing.
"What was that for?" she found herself asking.
Harry rested his forehead against hers. "Do you have any idea how sexy it is to hear you stand up for my friends?" he asked, his voice delicate, yet still raspy.
She just stared at him. Did he just call her, uh, sexy? Surely not.
Harry placed one last kiss against her lips before he released her fully so she could leave the room if she felt so inclined. "I just thought that you should know."
Hermione stepped towards him again and ended up staying for another seven minutes.
At least.
Harry was nervous. That was the only word to describe what he was feeling. His hands were shaking and his heart was thumping in his chest. In a few minutes, Hermione was going to descend those stairs, and he was sure that she would take his breath away.
He wasn't wrong.
It wasn't that she was wearing anything spectacular. In fact, she was dressed warmly, which was expected, seeing as the snow had finally descended on Hogwarts a week earlier. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing though.
He'd had to endure scowls from Jack, Ron and Ginny as they moved past him in the Common Room while he waited for her to come down. But then there she was, and she was smiling at him in a way that made his stomach do an enthusiastic flip-flop.
"Hello, you," she said, stepping into his already waiting arms.
Harry hugged her close, and then released her, taking a step back. This was a first date. He would treat it as a first date. "Miss Granger."
"Mister Potter."
"Thank you for agreeing to accompany me," he said formally. "Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.
Hermione didn't even hesitate as she slipped her arm through his, and allowed him to lead the way out of the Common Room, a smile dancing on the edges of her lips. They weren't exactly running late, because there would be carriages going to and from Hogsmeade until just before dinner, but majority of the students going to Hogsmeade were definitely already gone. It was probably better this way anyway.
Harry made the executive decision that they would not be going to Madam Puddifoot's. He was also truly relieved that Hermione didn't seem interested in it either.
Once they arrived in Hogsmeade, Harry turned to her. "Is there anything specific that you need to get?"
Hermione, while fighting a blush, produced a piece of parchment with a rather comprehensive list from her winter coat and handed it to him. "Just those things," she said weakly.
"That's my girl," he said, letting her know that he didn't mind. In fact, it would have been weirder if she was afraid to be herself. "We can take care of these things, browse a little, and then maybe get a late lunch at the Three Broomsticks. How does that sound?"
Hermione squeezed his arm. "Sounds perfect."
Harry started them walking, his voice light and slightly airy as he pretended to be a tour guide to the one street in Hogsmeade. "And on your left you have - " he stopped when she tensed. "What? What?"
"People are staring," she said in a whisper, halfway to burying her face in his jacket.
Harry glanced around, his pace slowing to a stop, and, indeed, people were looking at them. He felt a flash of anger. Why couldn't they just mind their own business? "I'm sorry, Granger," he said softly. "I thought, maybe, you know, our day could be normal, but I was wrong." Then, timidly, he asked: "do you want to go back?"
Her head snapped up, her gaze meeting his. "No," she said strongly, confidently, and his heart stuttered. "You and I are on a date, and I'm not ending it for anything. Got it?"
He couldn't help kissing her cheek. "Yes, ma'am," he said, grinning madly.
Hermione, once again, looped her arm through his, and they started their walk again. It took him a while to relax again, and then it was like they were the only two people in the great big world. He was playful and attentive, and the right amount of affectionate without moving beyond the 'first-date-boundaries' that he set for himself.
They worked through Hermione's list rather quickly, each of them sporting happy, content smiles as the day progressed. Hermione couldn't figure out why they'd never spent the day in Hogsmeade together before. It was so much more fun with just him, truly.
"Are you hungry?" Harry eventually asked, as they ticked off purchasing new quills and a fresh bottle of ink.
"I'm starving."
Harry led the way to the Three Broomsticks. Owing to the fact that the two of them had started their own day later than the others, it was a relief to find that the initial lunch rush was over, and they were able to find and claim a small booth for themselves. They slid in, and sat closer than was strictly necessary, but neither was complaining.
Once their orders were placed - Hermione, lasagna, and Harry, the traditional fish and chips - they fell into easy conversation. Hermione was quick to ask him if he'd told his mother about the date.
"My mum knows everything," he said, heat rising up his neck. "It's embarrassing sometimes."
"Because she teases you?"
"Oh yes," he exclaimed. "She has no mercy sometimes."
Hermione couldn't help the sudden pang of jealousy that she felt whenever she was reminded of just how good a relationship Harry had with one of his parents. Even what he had would be enough for her, though she never said it out loud.
Harry sensed the shift in her, and his hand immediately covered hers as it rested on the table. "You can talk to my mum too, if you want," he offered. "I'm not claiming that she's some all-knower or something, but she's good at this kind of thing."
She blinked, her emotions going a little crazy all of a sudden. "What kind of thing?"
"Being the mum to people who need it," he said gently. "She's my mum, Luna's mum, Neville's, and sometimes she's even Sirius' mum."
Hermione giggled, her free hand moving to cover her mouth. She didn't really trust herself to speak at this point, so she just squeezed his hand, and looked away from him, hoping to calm herself down.
When their food arrived, Harry released her hand, and they proceeded to eat in silence for a few minutes. Hermione broke it by voicing something that she'd been thinking about for some time.
"Can I ask you a serious question?" she started.
He looked at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Briefs."
Her eyes widened. "Harry!"
"What?" he asked innocently. "They're better for riding a broom," he informed her; "I mean, have you seen how tight those Quidditch pants are?"
Despite herself, Hermione blushed a deep scarlet, and she was forced to drop her gaze. Yes, yes she had noticed. Conversations like these would have been easier before they were dating. Now, well, things were different, and she couldn't stop herself from picturing him in said briefs.
"I'm sorry," he eventually said. "What did you want to ask?"
She bit at her bottom lip somewhat nervously, and Harry waited patiently. "From the things you've already told me," she began; "there seem to be glaring inconsistencies between what Jack says happened and what actually happened when it came to fighting off Voldemort." She took a breath. "Do you know why?"
"Jack is a prick?" he offered.
She waited patiently.
Harry stared at her for a moment, trying to decide on what to say. Then: "What makes you think I'm not the one with all the embellishments?" he asked.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You said you would tell me no lies, and I highly doubt that you're about to start now that we're dating."
He nodded thoughtfully, having successfully bought himself some much-needed thinking time. What could he tell her when he sometimes didn't even know what to make of it all?
"All I know is that Jack is the Boy-Who-Lived, Granger, and it wouldn't do to have the folklore surrounding him to be tarnished by his kid brother," he explained. "That's what they decided, but I've never actively tried to hide what I've done. I won't. It doesn't matter to me if people don't believe me. I really don't care if people think I'm crazy."
Somehow, Hermione just believed him.
"I also think that my mum and Sirius let it all play out this way to make sure I don't become a target for Voldemort's cronies," he added. "If they know that I've had a hand in thwarting his attempts to return, then they'll come after me, and I'm not nearly as well protected as Jack is."
She nodded thoughtfully, taking it all in.
"But there's something specific you want to know though, isn't there?"
She nodded once. Well, there was something specific for now, at least. "I was wondering if you could tell me what really happened at the end of our first year."
"What did Jack tell you happened?" he eventually asked.
She sighed dramatically, before she explained what Jack finally told them, after he'd had Dumbledore explain parts to him. She discussed their initial escapades, and the moment that Jack had gone on by himself at the Potions' riddle. She informed Harry that she knew about the way Jack's touch had basically killed Quirrell, and so expelled Voldemort's wraith from the host's dying body.
Harry shuddered at the reminder. "It really happened that way," he said.
"But you were there, weren't you?"
He nodded. "This time, I may or may not concede to the fact that I really might have been the way," he confessed.
"How so?"
"Well, you see, when Quirrell grabbed for Jack; he kind of grabbed for me too," he said, shuddering. "He was probably confused or something, but it was painful."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Painful?"
"If I could feel whatever Jack was doing to Quirrell; just imagine what he was feeling," he said, shuddering again. "I still have nightmares about the sound of his screaming sometimes," he confessed. "I wake up with it ringing in my ears."
That was something new. She couldn't remember his ever telling her about any sort of nightmares. For a moment, she considered that he thought he'd be seen as weak if ever he admitted to having such a nightmare.
"Do you dream about the graveyard?" she asked quietly.
He visibly stiffened. "Sometimes," he eventually confessed. "I try not to actively think about it. There's something truly unique about fearing for your life, you know?"
Hermione didn't know, but she didn't say anything.
"I have a particularly terrifying one from time to time, where I get whisked away by whatever pulls me to wherever and, when I arrive, I don't have my wand." He glanced at her. "As a result, not having my wand is truly off-putting."
"Is that why you now have that holster on your wrist?"
He nodded once. "Now I can have it with me always," he said, with a small smile. "The dream hasn't stopped though. It's truly a weird one."
"What happens when you get to wherever you get?" she asked.
"Bad things," was all he said, and Hermione didn't ask any further questions about it. He absently played with the glass on the table in front of him. "I have another dream about this really large snake," he admitted after a moment.
"Like the Basilisk?"
"Smaller," he said. "But equally terrifying. It feels like it's searching for something, you know? Desperately."
Hermione bit her bottom lip. "Does that mean that you're a Parselmouth too?" she asked nervously. "I mean, I know that you said you were able to control the Basilisk for a while, but you never did actually say..."
He squirmed in his seat. "Would it change anything if I was?"
She was quick to shake her head. "I know you're not a Dark wizard, Harry," she said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
"And just how are you so sure of that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow expectantly.
"It's in your eyes," she said easily, absolutely no hesitancy in her voice.
Harry took a deep breath. "I am," he said. "I definitely am. A Parselmouth, I mean; not Dark." He laughed nervously. "But I've been able to keep mine a better secret than Jack has."
Hermione couldn't help her grin. "You do understand what this means, right?"
"What?"
"Jack's Parseltongue can't possibly be a gift that Voldemort bestowed upon him if you can do it too," she said; "and since it's something that's inherited..."
It took a moment for Harry to click, and then he burst out laughing, drawing attention to them. He clutched at his stomach. "Merlin, can you imagine James Potter's face when he finds out that he's a sperm donor for Parselmouths. He'll probably burst into tears."
Instead of joining in the laughter, Hermione looked thoughtful.
"What?" he asked, desperately trying to catch his breath.
"Do you think that, if that is true, Jack's sister can also speak Parseltongue?" She licked her lips. "Or is about gender? It would be interesting to find out," she said. "I know there isn't much literature on the subject."
Most other boys probably would have cut her off to talk about something else, or made her feel ashamed of where her brain was taking her, but not Harry. He easily fell into her rambling, and they practically designed their own study by the time he suggested that they start up to the Castle.
As planned, Harry walked her right up to the staircase leading up to the girls' dormitories and, inexplicably, he suddenly felt nervous. What was wrong with him?
Hermione stood perfectly still in front of him, looking at him through her perfect lashes. "I had a great time today, Harry," she said, offering him the kind of smile that made him think dangerously about just how much he felt for this girl.
"I did too, Granger," he said, stepping towards her. "Thank you for a wonderful day."
She blushed.
"I'm being selfish, I know, but I want to spend more time with you," he said. "Tomorrow? I was thinking that we pack up some food and our books, and spend the day by the Black Lake."
Her brow furrowed. "You do realise that the ground is covered in snow, right? We'll freeze."
Harry shrugged. "You'll have to sit really close to me then," he said easily. "I've been told I'm incredibly warm. And comfortable."
"Who said that?"
"I can't reveal my sources."
She giggled, her eyes meeting his.
"I would say goodnight," he said, smiling lopsidedly; "but I reckon I'll see you in a little while for dinner." He let out a breath. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to kiss you."
"I would expect nothing else, Potter."
Harry leaned in, decidedly not caring that they weren't remotely close to being the only two people in the Common Room. It was a short, chaste kiss, indicative of the end of their first date, and he couldn't help the smile that took hostage of his face when he pulled back. "Merlin, I love kissing you," he whispered breathily.
"Why?" she found herself asking.
"Don't you know?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.
When she shook her head, Harry leaned in again and brought his mouth to her ear.
"Don't you see it, Granger?"
"See what?"
"What I see," he whispered.
Hermione's heart was beating wildly in her chest, her mouth refusing to work.
"And what I see is absolutely beautiful."