As Harry had expected, Ron was less than amicable during Potions class. The two of them sat together, of course, to show some Gryffindor solidarity against a room stuffed with Slytherins. However, their team effort to prepare a Calming Draught was derailed by a rather testy, whispered conversation, brought on by Ron's incessant muttering of phrases like "I might've asked her" and "Could've told me earlier."
Harry gave him a look. "Okay, Ron. Yeah, we should've told you earlier. Sorry." His voice remained bitter. He couldn't help being miffed by the fact that his friend had thought he was just entitled to go with Hermione.
"Yeah, well, doesn't help me now, does it?" he remarked snidely. "Still don't have a date to this damn thing."
"You were the one who said we should find dates straight away!" Harry retorted. "How was I s'pose to know you wanted to go with Hermione?"
A tinge of pink crawled up Ron's ears. "I dunno if I really wanted to go with her," he muttered as he dropped a unicorn hair in the potion. "Just kind of needed someone to go with, like we were saying, right?" He frowned. "That IS why you asked Hermione, isn't it? Cause you fancy Cho, don't you?" Ron's questions came out as more of a statement. He was trying to reassure himself that this indeed was true.
"Yeah, course," Harry lied after a stretched out pause. He wasn't thinking of the Yule Ball as a date or anything, but he'd warmed up to the idea of going with Hermione. He was actually rather looking forward to the previously dreaded event. At least they'd have a laugh together, seeing the ridiculous outfits that some girls would be sporting. And she didn't have too many expectations for his dancing. "Really, asking Hermione wasn't a bad idea." Unfortunately, Ron had noticed the delay in Harry's answer, leapt to his own conclusions about why exactly he'd asked Hermione to the ball, and lapsed into a stone faced silence for the rest of the class. Later on in the day, though, his mood changed (Harry suspected it had something to do with getting Padma Patil as his date), and he and Harry were back on good terms again.
Hermione, however, was much less forgiving, choosing to stare daggers at Ron as the three of them sat down for dinner.
"'Ermynee, I said I wa 'orry," he articulated around a mouthful of chicken parmesan.
Her nostrils flared. "That was impressively disgusting, wasn't it, Harry?"
He quickly gulped some water down to avoid playing a role in their fight.
Ron gave a huge swallow, then said, "Sorry. Really. Now, Hermione Granger, can you please forgive this ginger prat for being a complete and total moron?" Every once in a while, it was easy to tell Ron was related to Fred and George.
She gave a small smile. "Alright. Only cause you said please, though." Ron grinned.
"Thanks." He went off in search of the biggest piece of chocolate cake at the Gryffindor table.
"So, things are back to normal, then."
"Yes," Harry agreed.
"And you don't like that all that much, do you?" a voice vibrant with jealousy whispered in his head.
"Course I do! Why wouldn't I want us all to be back on good terms?" he argued.
"Well…what if you were all on good terms AND you still had Hermione to yourself?"
He shook his head, hoping that it would jar the inappropriate thought out of his mind. And yet, after the final class before break came and went, Harry found himself alone with Hermione. Ron was stuck in the library, just starting the goblin essay for Binns that the two of them had nearly completed.
"It's break…don't you wanna do something fun?" Harry asked.
"Well, yeah, but I'm not sure what," Hermione answered.
"We could always go to the library, find a nice book to read," he teased.
"Shut up," she laughed. "No, even I want a break from reading."
A brilliant idea struck the black haired boy. "Be back in a sec. Grab a coat, I've got a fun surprise for us."
"What on earth is he doing?" she wondered. Still, she trusted Harry, so she went along with his instructions. "Close your eyes," he called as he descended the stairs. She did. He grabbed her hand. "Come with me."
She shivered as he led her to the Quidditch field.
"Are we going to Hagrid's?" she asked, shivering.
"Maybe, maybe not."
"Stop," she commanded. She pulled out her wand and tapped the top of his head. It felt like someone was combing hot water into his hair. The sensation descended down his body.
"What was that?"
"Warming spell," she answered, applying it to herself.
"You can cast with your eyes closed? You are brilliant." She blushed.
At last, they'd reached their destination: the Quidditch pitch.
"I figured, you love learning so much, why not teach you something new? Today, you're getting a lesson in how to fly," he told her, smiling, hoping she couldn't detect the worry in his mind: "Please don't hate this idea, please don't-"
"Alright," she agreed. He winced at the hesitation. "Can I just be a passenger for now, though? I trust you more than I trust myself on a broom, you're an amazing flier."
"Sure." They walked out to the pitch, holding hands- "Just to keep them warm," they told themselves. Hermione gazed into Harry's face. "You've really missed this place, haven't you?"
"Yep. It's a nice getaway from everything else, you know?" He answered quietly.
"I imagine it is." She looked down at the broom. "So, are you going to teach me to fly or not?"
He grinned. "You really want to learn?"
"Yes."
"Okay, then." He stuck a hand out over the Firebolt. "Up!"
He flew slowly at first, not wanting to make Hermione too nervous. Her voice eventually piped up. "I'm not some fragile old woman. I've flown on a hippogriff with you, for God's sake. You can go a bit faster!"
"If you're sure." He gripped the broom handle a bit tighter, zooming around the pitch.
"How d'you do this?" she murmured, tightening her grip around his waist. "You make it seem so easy. I can hardly fly to save my life."
"Hey, you aren't that bad." He wanted to look into that face, reassure her, give her more than just words, but flying and not looking at anything but Hermione's face was a recipe for disaster. "Remember first year, the room with the winged keys? You and Ron were a big help."
"I was lucky I didn't fall off that broom," she laughed.
He continued, "You have to think about what you want to do. It sounds stupid, but the broom knows when you're in control." They dipped a bit. "See, like there, I thought about going down before I actually nudged the handle down."
"I see," she nodded. He laughed. "Trust Hermione to sound like she's in a proper lesson right now."
"Can you do that one thing that the Seekers did at the World Cup?" she asked.
"What thing?"
"The Wonky Faint."
"It's the-" For once, he didn't feel like correcting her. He actually did look back at her now. "You really want me to do that? Sure you'll be alright with it?"
She nodded. He took a deep breath-Hell, he'd never tried it before, and it could go spectacularly wrong-and went into a steep dive. Hermione was too shocked to scream.
"If I die on a broomstick with Harry Potter, I swear-"
He yanked the broom up out of the dive, away from the snowy field, at the last possible second. "YEAH!" he shouted triumphantly, punching the air. Next Quidditch match against Slytherin, he was pulling that move out, it would be absolutely delightful to watch Malfoy slam into the ground-
"You could have gotten us killed!" Hermione gasped.
"Or worse, expelled," he replied, green eyes bright with mischief. "Had enough?"
"Yeah, I think so. It's getting colder out here anyway," she observed.
He flew them back to the castle and was about to stop at the door when an idea struck him. He pulled the broom back up.
"Harry, the door and the ground are that way," Hermione pouted, pointing down.
"Yeah, I know, I'm dropping you off a bit closer to home," he answered. "Which window is the one to your dormitory?"
"Err…go up another 3 rows and a bit to the left."
He complied with her request.
"Alohomora!" she cried, pointing at the window. He flew in and lowered the broom to floor level.
Harry glanced around the room. "Never been up here."
Hermione slipped off her coat. "Course not, you're not allowed. Not like that matters to you." She took a chance, hoping he'd still want to hold hands. He did. "Won't you ever get round to reading Hogwarts, A History?"
"Nope, why would I when I've got you?" he grinned.
She groaned. "I'm just a walking encyclopedia to you, am I?" She shivered violently, bits of snow flying out of her hair.
He held her tight-just to keep her warm, of course. "Nope. Not even close."
"Then what am I?" She wiggled in closer and wiped a lonely snowflake away from the edge of his lips.
"You are…" Well, for once in his life, Harry had good luck in a non-life threatening situation, the dormitory was still completely empty. He needed more time to think, and Hermione gave him more time, pulling him into a soft kiss that he didn't know he'd wanted til earlier in the week.
As they separated, the perfect words came to Harry's mind. "Hermione Granger, you are brilliant," he murmured, smiling like a fool as the compliment earned him another kiss.
