A/N: Here's another chapter. : The next should be up soon. Thanks to all my reviewers and readers! And yes—I mean all of you!
Chapter 7: Dislike
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"So—let me get this straight." Harry said, pointing a finger at her, trying to hold back his laughter.
"You—" Harry began, then paused. She nodded. "Want—" She nodded, "To sleep here." She nodded again.
"Because—" She nodded, "You're afraid—" He paused, and she nodded again. "Of being invaded by zombies?"
"Yes, that is correct." Hermione replied, sighing. Harry nodded only once, opening his door wider to reveal his room—which was much bigger than hers. She walked in silently, suspicious of any prank that he might pull on her. She tapped her foot on the cold, tiled floor, and she raised an eyebrow at him.
"What?" He asked blandly, looking at her curiously. She took a deep breath.
"You're not going to laugh?" She asked, horrified.
"No." He deadpanned, and after a very pregnant pause, he burst into fits of laughter. "Okay—I mean, come on! You're afraid of—" he couldn't continue his sentence and left it hanging, as he started laughing again. She glared at him—well, she did expect this.
After 3 minutes or so, his face became serious once again, "Oh." He let out, realizing that she really wanted—if not wanted—needed to. "Fine, whatever." He shrugged and opened the door wider. He yelped in pain as he felt her cold, hard fist against his arm. "Ouch, what was that for?" He cried, scowling at her.
"I'm sleeping on the bed." She mumbled, and he started bursting into fits of laughter again. "Why? Afraid that the zombies will get you? From under the bed?" He remarked, flabbergasted, and in turn he received another strong hit on his arm.
"Fine. I'm sleeping on the couch." He grumbled, she smiled gratefully to him, patting him on his head.
"That's a good boy." She said cheerfully. "You don't have fleas or anything, right?" She teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Ha, ha. Very funny." He retorted sarcastically. "Go on, the bed won't eat you or anything." He pressed, still chuckling as he gestured to his mattress and gathered a bunch of pillows and his blanket, lying down comfortably on the leather couch.
"You know," He began, flipping through channels on his TV, "We've only known each other for 2 weeks."
"I am aware of that." Hermione grumbled, not being able to sleep because Harry happened to raise the volume even higher.
"And here we are—like we've known each other for years." He remarked, finally turning off when there wasn't anything interesting.
"I wouldn't call it years. We're just like, room mates or something." She said, nonchalant, fiddling with her bracelet.
"Do you hate me?" He asked, staring at the ceiling.
"No—not hate. More of..." She began, searching a word that can possibly describe their not necessarily love-hate relationship, but probably an I-don't-love-you-but-you're-okay-hate relationship. "Dislike." She said, happy that the lights were off, concealing her smile—or the streaks of red that were beginning to dot her cheeks.
"Is that good?" He asked blandly, yawning.
"Yes, it's good." She mumbled.
"What was that?" He slurred, "Sorry. I didn't hear that one."
"I uh—nothing. Good night." She panicked.
"Good night." He said, shifting his position.
And that was the last thing she heard from him, as she drifted off to dreamland.
Morning arrived sooner than she thought it would, completely taking her by surprise. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks soothed her. It wouldn't hurt to sleep in just a bit. She told herself. She wanted to sleep in for at least a few more minutes to take in his scent, dig her face into his soft pillows, or wrap herself in his thick blanket—hold on, this is Harry Potter, the arrogant self-centered git! She scolded herself.
Sunlight was now shining through the window just behind the bed. And her eyes fluttered open. Her eyes squinted as the bright rays of light reached her cinnamon colored eyes. She was relaxed by the sound of even breathing by her ear. Her eyes widened.
Wait—whose breathing?!
She cautiously turned around, to see none other than Harry Potter sleeping beside her, his arm unconsciously draped over her waist, hugging her. How the hell did they get in this position?
"HARRY! Get off! What the hell! Wake up, you git!" She screamed, suddenly sitting up and breaking from his grasp. She lost her balance then fell hard on the floor, her head suddenly bumping the edge of the bedside table. "Ouch." She moaned. "My head, ouch—"
"What—huh?" Harry slurred, awaking from his sleep, he leaned towards the edge of the bed, and gave Hermione a weird look. "What are you doing there?"
"Funny—I was just about to ask the same question." She snapped, regaining balance, she stood and brushed off bits of dirt from her pajamas. "I thought you slept on the couch!" She fumed.
"Oooh." He said, smiling. "Now I remember, you see, I had trouble sleeping, so I slept on the bed, I sort of forgot that you were there."
"How could you forget that I was there? You infuriate me." She groaned as her head throbbed and ached. He smirked.
"I'm just doing my job." He said blandly, "Do you need ice for your head?"
"Ice. Ice is good." She said, calming down with her hand still on her throbbing head, lying on the bed. In no later than 5 minutes, Harry entered the room, holding an icepack in his hand. He pressed it to her head. "Better?" He asked, smiling.
"Yes." She said rolling her eyes.
She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Hermione wasn't sure that if the tingling sensation she felt was either from the ice or maybe from something else... They continued to stare at each other, and she blushed profusely, turning her attention to something else.
"Wotcher, Harry, Casey!" Tonks entered the room, disturbing the moment, Hermione felt a twinge of disappointment despite the fact that Tonks managed to save them from any more awkwardness in their situation. Hermione nodded at her. "You must be Nymphadora Tonks, Remus' wife, right?" She asked.
"Just call me by my last name—no, not Lupin. I meant Tonks." She giggled, smiling at them. She found a seat on the couch. Hermione observed her, her hair was a very enthusiastic color of purple, and she looked young, and pretty.
"So what are you two lovebirds doing?" Remus asked, joining his wife, kissing her on the cheek and sitting beside her.
"I feel like I just threw up in my mouth a bit." Hermione remarked. "Lovebirds, oh please." Remus chuckled.
"Uncle." Harry warned, turning to Remus. "We're not lovebirds. Come on—we hate each other." He said, laughing nervously.
"That's what you guys think. You see," Remus began, "When a boy and a girl like each other they—"
"Enough, we know." Harry and Hermione said together, frantically. "You've told me that speech a thousand times since I was ten, I already know about the birds and the bees." Harry supplied, shuddering.
Hermione stood there watching, this was somehow something new to her. She couldn't imagine Harry as a little boy—a boy who would be all cocky and arrogant. Before all the fame and fortune, he was just a normal boy after all. She just had to laugh at that.
The four ate breakfast happily, since Hermione was too engrossed in her book, she wasn't able to eat at all. Until Harry shoved his place towards her, urging her to eat, saying that he'd hide her collection of books if she didn't. She grudgingly complied, pouting. There were times where Hermione would notice that there was something going on—the significant looks that Harry and Remus shot to each other, as if they were having an argument in their head. She shrugged it off, so she spent her time spoiling Sirius with bits of food she'd 'accidentally' drop to the floor when Harry wasn't looking, so that she could read her book earlier.
"Casey, do you want to go out or something?" Harry asked, knocking on her door. She opened it and went back to reading her novel.
"I uh—sure." She said, smiling. "Where are we going?"
"The mall?" He asked.
"Sure. The mall sounds great." She sighed putting down her book, there was actually no harm in going to the mall as friends.
"How about your disguise?" Harry asked, looking at her, a mischievous grin crept up his face.
"Hmm," Hermione contemplated, tapping her finger on her chin, looking around. "I'll have to be Ginny Weasley for a day." She said, rolling her eyes.
"Do you want to dress up as a man?" Harry asked, chuckling. Amusement danced in his bright green emerald eyes.
"No!—what is wrong with you?" Hermione exclaimed, walking towards her dresser. "I'll think of something."
---
"Nice disguise, you're wearing all this..." Harry said, as he stared into Hermione, who had her hair straightened, and applied streaks of red on. She was wearing a lot of eyeliner, as well as a black top, which had imprints of skulls on it and black pants. She was covered in chains and spiky...things. She sort of frightened Harry.
"Stuff." He continued, "I can't believe you're wearing this...That's it—change. I'm not going out with Casey the Goth—pretty hard to imagine, don't you think? Anyway, wear your everyday clothes, I'll let you borrow my jacket and cap or something. You won't blend in—seriously."
"Fine." She huffed, going back to her room, locking it.
"You can always dress up as a man, you know." Harry offered, and he heard her giggle.
After 30 minutes, Hermione finally emerged, dressed in a blue shirt, and jeans, wearing her converse shoes. Harry lent her his jacket and his cap, which was unusually big for her, but she didn't mind.
As they arrived at the mall, they weren't so inconspicuous. They enjoyed watching a movie—which had Harry in it, that egotistic git—and eating lunch in the food court, Harry complained that it's been a while since he ate fast food, so there they were. Enjoying the day which was going smoothly. Until a fan shouted 'Oh my God, it's Harry Potter!' causing heads to turn, and girls to run after them. Luckily, Hermione wasn't recognized at all. They couldn't get a moment of peace in the mall. Everywhere they looked or went to, they were there, whispering and taking pictures.
"Relax, Harry." Hermione whispered to him as they were walking back to the parking lot. "It'll be over before you know it."
"I know." He sighed, looking down to his feet.
"It'll be over soon!" She exclaimed.
"I know." He grumbled, getting in the car. He felt her hand on his shoulder.
"It will be fine." She assured him, he smiled weakly at her.
"We shouldn't be seen together often. Who knows—they mind find you." He said quietly, holding her frail hand and pulling her inside, he scooted over so she could have room in the car.
"Okay then, I'll stay at your house all day. I'll hang out with Remus and Tonks, they're really nice." She said smoothly. "Do what you have to do. It's going to be fine."
"I know, Casey. Thank you." He said, exhaling, unaware that he held his breath. He looked her in her eyes, and gave her an awkward one-arm hug. Hermione felt her heart drop, he'd been...decent to her. And this is how she'd been paying him back all this time:
By lying about her whole life.
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"Ronald, you were supposed to bring her home—now!" Boomed the voice of Richard Granger from the phone. Ron shuddered, and almost dropped the phone from his sweaty hands. So many things have been on his mind. And for a brief moment, he didn't care where Hermione was. He wanted Lady Isabella.
"She asked for a month." Ron said nonchalantly, rolling his eyes, recounting his conversation with Ginny. He flipped through a sports magazine, and found an article about Viktor Krum, a famous football player quite interesting.
"We don't have a month!" He fumed. "Ginny was important to the plan!"
"Hey—leave my sister out of this!" Ron said defensively. "If she doesn't want to come here then she won't come here! If she said that she needed a month then she has a month!"
"Do you want to marry Hermione or not?"
"I—uh." Ron stuttered, thinking hard, of an answer—but he couldn't picture his future with Hermione Granger. He frowned slightly. "Lady Isabella—"
"Is getting married to the Potters." He said, cutting him off in mid-sentence.
"The Potters?" Ron asked, flabbergasted, he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, making him feel anxiety and rage boiling inside of him. "Really?"
"That's what they said." Richard supplied, as a big smile crept up his face. He found lying easy to do now.
"That can't be." Ron mumbled. "You're lying."
"Do you believe me or not? Do you want to help me or not? Do you want Hermione to come back or not?" Richard yelled, quite frustrated. His voice rising. Ron stared off into space, thinking.
"Well?" Richard Granger pressed.
---
"You're sleeping here—again?" Harry asked lazily, opening his door for her. She nodded.
"I swear that there's this really odd 'thump' and then my bed shakes. It's like the Exorcist all over again." She shuddered.
"If you're so afraid, then why do you still watch those scary movies then?" He smirked and Hermione fell silent, she thought of a reason—why did she watch scary movies all the time? He sniggered.
"I get it! You're scaring yourself so you could sleep in my room. Admit it, you love me, you've fallen head over heels with me." He teased, receiving a sharp blow to his side.
"No, I'm not!" She said defensively, "You're too full of yourself. I watch scary movies because there's nothing else to watch, besides, I love the adrenaline." She mumbled. And he rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, right. Whatever you say." He teased, then concealed the phrase 'You love me' by coughing.
"I do not love you!" She exclaimed.
"Fine, don't be so sensitive about it." He said, smirking. "Denial." He coughed. She glared at him.
"Sod off." She mumbled, sitting down on his couch. "I'm sleeping here. I don't want to wake up beside you." She huffed, lying down on the squeaky leather couch.
"Fine." He huffed, "I'll be here, comfortable and everything. By the warm heater, I'll have a good night's sleep. Unlike the hard, cold, couch you're sleeping on, I'm actually on something soft." He tempted.
"I don't care." She said, rolling her eyes, and falling asleep.
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Hermione sat on her chair around the dining table at 3 am in the morning, eating a piece of cake she stole from the fridge. She dug her fork and took in another bite. Something alarmed her, she thought she heard someone or something outside. She bent her head sideways to get a better look.
"What's happening out there?" She mumbled.
"Casey?" Asked a voice from behind her.
"Oh—hi, Remus. How are you?" She asked, smiling at him. "Cake?" she offered.
"No, no. I'm fine. I'm not into sweets." He supplied, smiling at her.
"Erm, okay then." Hermione said sadly. "You look a bit shaky, are you sure you're okay? What are you doing up so late?"
"I couldn't sleep. You see, it's sort of complicated, but you can't tell anybody that I'm telling you this." He began, smiling slightly at her. "Well, a few years ago, I was—"
"Oh, hello guys." Harry greeted, pouring himself a glass of milk. "You had a party without me?" He pouted. Hermione rolled her eyes at him as he sniggered, taking another sip from his glass.
"Hello Harry." Hermione said distractedly, then turned to Remus. "As you were saying?"
"Why? What were you telling her about?" Harry said, he looked worried, and his tone was serious. "Are you okay? Feeling anything?"
"Oh, it's nothing. Not interesting anyway. I'll see you later, Casey." He said evasively, smiling.
"Okay." Hermione said, disheartened on pursuing the topic. She bent her head in defeat.
"I'm going back to bed—or the couch, if you may." She told Harry, walking right past him, he followed her to his room.
"Good night." She said, going under the blanket she placed on his couch. He nodded then went back to bed. She found herself contemplating on Remus' behavior, it's not normal for a man to be that frail, shaky, weak.
Before she knew it, she was being pulled into darkness.
20 year old Hermione was in an elegant, white dress, walking with her father as they made their way to the dinner party.
"Dad, I don't want to be married!" She spat, "It's unfair. I didn't ask for this."
"Not now, Hermione." He scolded, and she frowned, that phrase has been said to her since she was 3 feet tall. They entered the empty ballroom. Hermione ignored her father, and continued.
"No. I don't want to be married for your selfish reasons!" She yelled, "It is not fair! I haven't done anything!"
A loud clapping sound lingered in the air, Hermione's hand flew to her left cheek. Her father had slapped her. "Don't be childish." He seethed, "It isn't appealing at all. You're an embarrassment."
"I am not a child." She told him, "I'm not being childish. This is my future we're talking about."
She felt her tears sting her eyes, and her left cheek was throbbing. There was a large imprint of her father's hand on it. She stared up at him, "I have to go." then she felt herself running.
And running.
And running.
"Hermione Jane Granger, get back here!" His voice boomed, causing heads to turn and watch the 'princess' run...
Those double doors seemed too far.
Ronald's screams were too loud.
And her left cheek was too painful.
But she ran, ran to go away from her highly abusive father, as well as start a new life.
She didn't want this.
She didn't want this at all.
"Ouch." She yelped, her hand unconsciously flying to her cheek, she looked around. She sighed. The memory just kept repeating and repeating in her head, and she didn't know why she felt like crying whenever she thought of it.
"Casey?" Harry mumbled, and for a brief moment Hermione thought that he was asleep. "Are you okay?"
"Bad dreams. I—uhm." She felt traitor tears roll down her cheeks. "I'm okay."
"Are you crying?" He asked, not getting up, he still stared at the ceiling, still flat on his bed.
"No." She sniffed. "I'm not crying."
"Okay then." He said, pretending to go back to sleep. "I'm going to go back to sleep now... If you're not crying. I'm going to sleep now..." He announced, smirking.
"Fine. I'm crying." She confessed, and immediately, Harry was in front of her, crouching. He stared into her eyes, got up and flickered the lights open. He was in his original position, crouching in front of her, staring at her eyes.
"Why are you crying?" He asked—more like whispered.
"It was just a bad dream." She said, as more tears rolled down her face. "Just a bad dream." She repeated. She felt herself float, and then she realized that someone was carrying her. Her reflexes caused her to wrap her arms around him, scared of falling. "Let me go." She whined.
"I can't exactly let you go if you're clinging on to me." Harry laughed.
She carefully removed her arms, but that didn't work, she was still in mid-air since his hand was under her bent knees, and his other hand was supporting her back. "Let me go!" She whined again, kicking in the air. "I'm fine."
"I'm fine." She repeated.
"You sound as if you're trying to convince yourself and not me, you know." He remarked. And that got her.
So she gave in, her arms finding their way safely around his neck. He put her down on his bed, and she felt a tad bit better. "Do you want me to stay?" He offered.
"I uh—I don't know." She mumbled quietly.
He looked at her expectantly, and made an adorable face.
"Fine." She grumbled. "But there should be a 3 feet distance between the two of us."
"Okay." He yawned, turning off the lights and slipping under the covers, beside her, the distance between them was thinning, and he heard her rapid breathing.
"3 feet, Potter." She warned, she could hear him smirk and he didn't listen, still close enough. She felt his hot breath against her nape, and it made her skin tingle. "Harry." She warned, but he still didn't comply.
He didn't want to comply.
"Potter." She warned again.
He sighed in defeat, and moved exactly 3 feet away from her.
---
"Hello James." Richard greeted over his cell phone. James wasn't actually aware of his grudge towards him, and he planned for it to stay that way.
"Oh—hello, Richard." He greeted back.
"How would you like your son to marry Lady Isabella of the Chamberlains?" He suggested, smiling deviously.
---
"Harry. Get off." She mumbled, suddenly waking up in the same position they were yesterday. She managed to slip off him, and she walked towards the kitchen. Yawning as she grabbed the plate that was ready made by the kitchen staff. She thanked them and walked towards the dining room, almost tripping over Sirius. She nodded to Mitch, who was close by, watching her. He nodded back.
"Hello." She greeted the black dog, feeding it a piece of bacon. It barked happily, she smiled sweetly at him, and patted his head.
"Mitch?" Hermione called.
"Yes, Miss Casey?" He answered, approaching her.
"Do you have security cameras outside?" she implored, pushing her scrambled eggs around the plate, bored.
"Yes." He answered. Hermione detected a hint of worry in his voice. "Is there a problem?"
"I thought I saw something by the bushes over there." She said, and pointed to the location. "Can you see if there was anything on the security camera?"
"I'll handle it." He said cautiously, approaching the bush. Hermione ate while waiting. Sighing as she saw herself and Harry on the front cover of a magazine 'Harry Potter: Visits Miami with a girl friend or a girlfriend?' She sighed sadly. The headlines were getting cornier and cornier. She rolled it up and tossed it to the side. She fed a few pieces of sausage to Sirius while waiting, engrossed in her novel.
"Good morning Casey, did you know that you talk a lot in your sleep?" Harry remarked, sitting down across her, his coffee in his hand. She turned to face him. And she felt herself tense, she tried not to hyperventilate—she could've said anything. She searched her thoughts for any dreams or anything she could've said.
"Yeah?" Hermione asked, trying to sound nonchalant. "What did I say?"
"Nothing much. You said you loved me, actually." He said quietly.
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A/N: Too cliffie for you: Hahaha. Like it? Hate it? Review and tell me what you think. :