By the time they got back into Diagon Alley, Harry had kissed Hermione a total of four times, and he was starting to get the hang of it. They held hands on the way back, and Hermione assured him that it was normal for their hands to get warm, and that she didn't mind at all if they got sweaty or anything (prefaced by the fact that he kept releasing her hand to wipe his on his pants). Harry's heart was still racing from their kiss, and he wasn't sure if it would ever stop. He'd actually kissed Hermione. And he planned to do it more.

They found the Weasleys in Madam Malkins, with Ron milling about looking very annoyed about something. As soon as he saw them, his eyes widened. "Hey! There you two are!" His eyes flicked down to their joined hands. "I take it your date went well, then."

"Yeah," Harry said a little breathlessly. Hermione blushed. "Is everything all right?"

"No, it's not," Ron huffed. "Our supply list this year says we need dress robes."

"What for?"

"No idea. Some sort of event. But of course, we can't afford robes for everyone, so Mum's trying to figure out who's gonna get the hand-me-downs. Three guesses who. And believe me, Harry, I don't want to be caught dead in those. They're just all frills and lace and-" Ron shuddered.

"Ron, I can get you dress robes if you can't afford all of them, honestly. I'll buy yours."

"You don't have to-"

"Look, I've got more money than I know what to even do with. I'm more than willing to buy my best friend a set of dress robes, all right? I would have gotten you a new wand second year, only I didn't even think about it. I still owe you." Harry smirked softly.

"We had a deal!"

"You think I was going to let you off without paying you back somehow?"

"Mum will never let you buy anything for me."

"Then I'll buy two for myself in case I mess one up. You know I'm prone to doing that. Then you can say you borrowed it if your mum asks."

Ron's shoulders dropped. "You're a lifesaver, Harry, honestly. I'd kiss you right now if that position wasn't already taken."

Hermione blushed further.

"Have you rendered her speechless? Blimey, Harry, you should have kissed her in first year."

"Oh, shut up," Hermione huffed, but smiled, "before he changes his mind."

Ron held his hands up in surrender, but seemed in much better spirits with Harry's offer for the rest of the afternoon.

That night, as they were getting ready for bed and Harry was stashing away his two sets of dress robes carefully in his trunk, he couldn't help but replay his date with Hermione. He'd kissed her. And now she was sleeping in the room across the hall.

"All right," Ron started, sitting on the end of his bed. "Spill. How was it?"

"Uh, fine. Yeah. Good."

Ron let out a snort. "That bad?"

"No!" Harry corrected, turning back around quickly, somehow worried that he'd tell Hermione he didn't enjoy it. "No, the kiss was great! But the first time, the, er… the mechanics didn't exactly work out like I'd hoped."

"Mechanics?" Ron laughed. "Harry, you can't be thinking about mechanics of kissing when you're going in for it!"

"Well, I wasn't and that was the problem!"

"Bloody hell, you two really are perfect for each other, aren't you? Mechanics," he chuckled.

"Well, I mean… if you both turn your head the same way, it doesn't work, and then there's hair and my glasses fell and-"

"Sounds like a disaster. You sure you actually kissed her?"

"Positive. I did. I promise."

"That means I have to find someone now, doesn't it? If you two are going to be snogging all the time."

"We're not-" Harry started, though he couldn't help but smile at the thought. Would they be? "We're not going to be snogging all the time, Ron." He slid under the covers in the bed next to him and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't even know what's next. We… didn't really talk about it."

"Aren't you her boyfriend now?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "I think so? How do I know? I mean, it's not like she's kissing anyone else."

"I guess you ask that sort of thing. I don't know how any of this works either. But it's Hermione, so I reckon she'd want to know for sure."

"Well, we've only been on one date. I don't think that really qualifies as a boyfriend, though. Can you even go on dates at Hogwarts besides Hogsmeade?"

"Dunno," Ron shrugged. "Never tried."

Harry groaned. "This is way more complicated than I thought it would be."

Ron lay back down, hands behind his head on the pillow. "That's witches, though. Not sure if it's better or worse that it's Hermione."

"I feel like it's better. A little easier. Just because… well… I dunno, everything seems easier with her."

"Except kissing." Ron snorted before letting out a soft yelp as a pillow flew across the room and hit him directly in the face.

The remaining couple weeks of the summer seemed to pass by in a blink, and with so many people at the Burrow, it was difficult for Harry and Hermione to spend a lot of time alone. Hermione did manage to sneak him off into the garden a few times, which was nice. Not just to practice their kissing, but both being only children, the chaos of the Weasleys was sometimes a bit too much. It was nice to get some breathing room. The kissing was just a bonus. And discovering that Hermione did in fact want him to be her boyfriend.

They'd been sitting out on one of the benches, absolutely still. Hermione was convinced that she could get a bird to land on her hand, which she'd filled with birdseed from one of the feeders. Harry had sat right next to her, watching her, wondering if it was just a ploy to keep them out of the house for as long as possible, as long as it took for her to be right. Normally, that was pretty fast, but it felt like hours that they were there, not talking, not moving, not laughing. Harry just took the time to look at her, something he hadn't gotten to do very much.

Without the worry of looking nice for their date, her hair had gone back to its normal messy curly state, which Harry actually liked a lot better than the braid she'd had it in. They both looked good, of course, but he liked when the wind blew it into his face and when a couple strands would break loose no matter how many times she redid her ponytail.

Every time a bird got close, he'd notice her tense, trying not to get too excited, until it was finally a cardinal that swooped in, and landed for a fraction of a second on her thumb, just long enough to grab a seed from the pile, and fly away. Hermione's arm dropped immediately with relief as a wide smile started crawling onto her face.

The air of triumph with which she told Harry, "Told you," wasn't surprising in the least, but it made Harry laugh. As if he ever thought there'd be a time she would be wrong. Even the year before, when she'd tried to convince him that his Firebolt was from a mass murderer… well, she was only half wrong. Now, though, all that mattered was that she seemed to be happier than she'd been in days.

"I never doubted you for a second, Hermione," Harry said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Though I did think it would take longer."

"Maybe I've just got a knack for birds."

"Like Snow White?" Hermione had been floored at Harry's admission that he never really watched a lot of Disney movies growing up, since Petunia and Vernon saw a lot of it as too close to magic to comfortably own, and Dudley couldn't care less anyway.

"Exactly."

"Which dwarf does that make me, then?"

Hermione thought for a second. "If we stay out here too long, you'll end up being Sneezy," she teased. Though he was used to spending plenty of summers outside to avoid the Dursleys, the Burrow seemed to have its own set of budding flowers and trees entirely, ones that his body seemed to have never encountered before and had no choice but to wreak havoc on his sinuses to experience. "But I think for now… I guess Happy?"

She was right; he was happy. Not just because he was here with her but because for once, school was going to start soon and he didn't feel the need to fear for his life. That wasn't to say that it wouldn't become an inevitability, of course, with his track record, but he had a really good feeling about this year. Maybe it was just because he knew he'd have Hermione by his side as his… girl friend who he could kiss whenever he liked? That was a mouthful.

"So are you ready to go back to school?" he asked, wiping the bench of seed that had fallen when Hermione dropped her arm, partially so he could scoot a little closer without fear of getting it all over his clothes, but so he'd have something to do with his hands. He wasn't even sure how to approach this topic, much less ask Hermione to be his girlfriend, but they couldn't just be kissing friends forever, could they?

Hermione took a breath. "Well, yes and no. I've loved being here all summer and I'm not in any hurry to give up spending all this time with you."

"And not have class?" Harry held a hand to his chest in fake shock.

"No, I still do want to go to class. That's the reason I want to go back. Though every time we go back to school, someone else is trying to kill you."

"Just adds to the fun, doesn't it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm serious, Harry. I know last year was… kind of a fluke, but you still did almost die. If I hadn't had the time turner and we hadn't found you with all those dementors, I-"

"But you did," Harry reminded her before she could let her mind wander any farther. "You did have it and we did go back and I didn't die and I'm right here."

"I know," she whispered, linking their fingers together and resting her head on his shoulder. "I know you're here. I just want you to stay here. And not even just because you're my boyfriend-" She stopped short, realizing what she'd said, then picked her head up to look at him. "I…I mean…"

"Am I?" Harry asked, heart jumping at the thought. He didn't want to assume; Ron had told him assuming that just because they kissed and hung out all the time and planned to go to the Yule Ball together in the winter didn't mean that they were officially boyfriend and girlfriend. And they'd really only been on one actual date.

"I…" Hermione's cheeks were rapidly turning pink, but she refused to break eye contact. "I'd like you to be. If you want. I mean, it's not like I plan on dating anyone else or… or kissing anyone else or anything like that, so if you wouldn't mind the whole school knowing that I'm your girlfriend-"

"Are you joking? I'd be honored to tell the entire school that Hermione Granger is my girlfriend."

Cheeks reddening even further, Hermione managed to squeak out, "Really?" In response, Harry just leaned in and kissed her again, smiling against her lips until she kissed him back, squeezing his hand even tighter.

The start of term feast was as indulgent and delicious as always, but with Hermione by his side, it seemed even better than usual. Other students seemed to be in contagiously good spirits, too, and Harry couldn't help but worry that it was too good to be true. Everyone was too happy, too carefree, too… calm. Even Hermione didn't seem to be worried, and she'd been the one who brought it up. But for some reason, there was a strange feeling Harry couldn't shake. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to indicate that something was going to go wrong this year.

There was a loud crash of wood against stone as the doors to the Great Hall flew open, one slamming against the side and making all the kids jump, instantly silent.

"Sorry!" The man moved with a limp, nearly lumbering down the walkway, slowly but steadily, grunting with effort as he went. Harry looked back towards Dumbledore, towards all the other professors, but they didn't seem to think anything unusual. In fact, it looked like Dumbledore was smiling.

"Blimey, that's Mad-Eye Moody," Ron muttered under his breath.

One of his legs clunked against the stone as if it was made of wood as he passed in front of them, but with his pants, and without staring too hard, Harry couldn't tell for sure. Moody did, however, glance over at Harry with one mechanical eye that made a chill rush down his spine. Harry figured that's where he got the nickname.

"Who?" he asked once Moody was out of earshot.

"He works for the Ministry. He's an Auror. Catches dark wizards."

Everyone was watching as Moody slowly made his way to the front of the Great Hall, climbed the steps to the teachers' table, and took a seat in the available chair after sharing a quick shoulder pat and a few words with Dumbledore.

When Dumbledore stood to make another announcement, all eyes were on him, rapt with attention and curiosity. Mad-Eye had been appointed as their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, which Harry wasn't sure was a good thing, if the way the silence following the announcement was any indication, only broken by quick whispers. Additionally, Dumbledore wanted to wait until Moody arrived before announcing that Hogwarts was going to be the host for this year's Triwizard Tournament. It must be something important, because the silence was quickly replaced with cheers from nearly every table. Harry tried to pay attention, but all he could focus on was Dumbledore saying something about how students were going to be arriving from other schools, and how the tournament was deadly, and the relief blooming in his chest when Dumbledore stated that no one under seventeen would be allowed to compete, and an age line would be placed around the entry cup that would prevent minors from entering. Even Hermione, next to him, released her grip on his hand a little. He wasn't even planning on entering, anyway; he'd had enough fame and glory to last him a lifetime as it was, and he really needed a break from life-threatening school years.

"Thank God," she whispered into his robe-covered shoulder. "That would just be your luck, wouldn't it?"

He could still feel Moody's eye on him, but didn't dare to glance his way. It reminded him of the uneasiness he felt around Quirrell, but it couldn't be the same. Surely Dumbledore had hired… on second thought, given the track record of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors the headmaster had employed for his first two years, maybe he had a point to be weary of this one. But when Hermione asked him what was wrong, he uttered a quick "nothing" and tucked into dessert.

As scary as Moody seemed to be on the outside, once Harry got past the fact that he never seemed to take his eye off him, he proved to be a really good teacher, even from the first day of class. They wouldn't be using books, because books were only for theory, which had Hermione's head nearly imploding. Instead, each week they would be learning one spell, and spending that week perfecting it. He ordered the class to stand up, and with a sweep of his wand, pushed all the desks to the side of the room.

"Potter," he called first, ushering him to the center of the room. Harry's heart began beating overtime, having no idea what this man could or was about to do to him. "Dumbledore told me you've got quite the proficiency for defensive spells."

"Uh…" Harry looked over towards Hermione, who only gave him a look back that said well? "I… I suppose. I mean, I'm good at Expelliarmus, but-"

"Show me." Moody stepped back, putting some distance between them, and Harry's eyes widened. He wanted Harry to use it on him? He was dueling a teacher? Surely Moody wouldn't try anything here, right? With all these students watching? But why had he chosen Harry first? Another glance over to Hermione - she'd taken her wand out of her pocket and was gripping it tightly. "Well, Potter, what are you waiting for?"

Harry gulped, but everyone else was looking expectantly at him, too. "Expelliarmus," he finally said, pointing his wand at Moody and watching as his wand flew out of Moody's hand and into the corner of the room.

There were a couple seconds of stunned silence until Moody said, "Not bad, Potter. Could be better. You need to work on your form. The point of disarming someone is so you end up with their wand, not just chuck it across the floor where they can go grab it." He crossed the floor to Harry, making a couple circles around him. "You injured your right ankle when you were younger, did you?"

"How did you-?"

"It's throwing off your stance. You need more brace on your left." He tapped the inside of Harry's right shin with the toe of his boot, bucking his knee a bit as he straightened out his left. "There." Moody reached out a hand to summon his wand back, which caused a gasp from the crowd, who had been in silent awe through the entire exchange. "Try again."

"Expelliarmus!" Moody's wand flew from his hand and, miraculously, ended up in Harry's left.

"See? That's what'll save your arse. Who's next?"

The following week, they learned Protego , and McGonagall had never gotten onto so many students for dueling in the hallways as she did that week, but it didn't seem to deter them. Harry finally felt like he was learning useful spells. That this was what DADA was supposed to be the whole time. Still, though, he couldn't shake Moody's penchant for always appearing in Harry's peripheral vision no matter where he went. He'd see Moody in the hallways, feel the gaze of his mechanical eye during meals, and one time, he even ran into him coming out of the bathroom, then vowed to never use that one again for the rest of the year, no matter how convenient it was.

"I'll keep an eye on him, Harry," Hermione promised immediately as soon as Harry confided his worry.

"I don't think he's dangerous or anything. I mean, he's had plenty of opportunity to hurt me in class if he wanted to and make it look like an accident. And he's teaching me defensive spells, which I wouldn't think he'd want to do if he was going to try anything. He wouldn't want me to be better than I currently am, right?"

"I think you're just too worried, mate," Ron said, not looking up from his homework. It was his Potions essay, Harry knew, which meant Ron was really trying to distract himself from the conversation. "Dumbledore wouldn't hire an Auror if he wasn't safe. He may be mad, but he's not out to get you."

"Either way, if you're concerned, Harry, I won't leave your side if I can help it. I mean, I know we can't be together all the time, but-"

"What's the difference?" Ron asked with a grin, making Hermione blush.

They'd done a poor job of not being all over each other since they got back to Hogwarts, taking every opportunity they could get to be touching in some way, at all times. On the couch, where there used to be a gap between all of them, Hermione had closed it, pressing her thigh against Harry's and leaning on his shoulder. Between classes, they never let go of each other's hands. In the Great Hall, they'd sit so close they nearly bumped elbows every time one of them took a bite.

"Ron, we've told you, if you're uncomfortable with Harry and I being so close-"

"I'm not. Really. I don't care. Just saying that you're by his side all the time anyway. What difference is it going to make if you promise it? Can't get any worse, can it?" Harry could tell even through his words that there was a certain edge to Ron's voice, though. Almost as if he was jealous. "But anyway, he's teaching us some really useful stuff. If you're that worried, I can write a letter to Dad and see if there's been anything weird going on at the Ministry."

"No," Harry said. "I'm not getting anyone else involved. Not until I know if we need to. You're probably right anyway, just me being paranoid."

"Yeah, well, you should be," a voice teased from behind them as Fred and George took up the remaining two seats at the tables. "What about this time?" Fred continued, clearly not having even been paying attention to the rest of their conversation.

"Oh, nothing-"

"He's worried about Moody," Hermione answered, making Harry groan and put his head down into his book. "Has he been acting strange at all in your class?"

"Of course he has, he's a nutter," George said. "He's called Mad-Eye for a reason. Bloody smart though. Good at what he does. I think he would have scared half the class off if it wasn't required."

Harry picked his head up. "Really? So it's not just me?"

"Nah. He showed us the Unforgivable Curses the other day." George's eyes were lit up with excitement. "It was wicked. Awful, 'course, but he says we're old enough to see what they can do. How quick someone can turn around and use them if we're not careful. Damn near gave the bloody Slytherins a heart attack."

"Yeah, I'm sure you were paying close attention to them, weren't you?" Fred asked with a smirk, and George's reply was a smack to the back of his brother's head.

"Anyway, speaking of snakes," George continued, "there's a rumor going around that Flint's trying to put your name in the cup to give them a chance at winning another Quidditch match ever again."

Ron snorted, but Harry's eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah, they're hoping if you die, they'll win the House Cup next year."

"Isn't he graduating?"

"Guess he wants to give the next guy a chance. Though, by the look of him, Flint's been held back at least five years. Who's to say he'll graduate this time?"

"This is ridiculous." Hermione sighed, putting her forehead into her hands. "They shouldn't be able to do that anyway. It's age protected."

"Yeah, as to who can actually put a name in," Fred corrected. "All someone's got to do is write down Harry's name, toss it in, and with his shit luck, that's sure the one to be chosen."

"Hilarious," Harry deadpanned. "You two really know how to make me feel better, don't you?"

"Aw, we're just messing with you, mate," George said sincerely, wrapping a supporting arm around his shoulder. "We've actually already got something planned for the Slytherins if they keep it up. A nice test of a new product, too. Besides, if anyone found out, surely they'd get expelled, and I don't think any of them want that now, do they?" Harry shrugged, picking his quill back up to finish his homework, but he couldn't find the motivation. "You know, we're actually thinking about entering ourselves."

"You're not seventeen until April," Ron piped up.

"Well, you see, little brother, there's this little thing called an Aging Potion. Seven months should be a piece of cake."

Hermione scoffed, her eyes not leaving her book, making all the boys look over at her.

"What's wrong, Granger?" Fred asked, a smirk starting to form on his face.

"You really think Dumbledore's going to be fooled by something as pathetically dimwitted as an Aging Potion?"

"But that's why it's so brilliant."

"Because it's so pathetically dimwitted."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry smiled.

"What happens if one of your names gets pulled, then?"

"Then we've got double the chance because we can just swap out. Professors can barely tell us apart as it is - what's the harm?"

Even after the twins had left, Harry still found himself nervous. What if they were right and someone was planning on putting his name in? Did Moody know? Was that why he was so insistent on teaching Harry all these defensive spells - in case he had to use them?

He found himself tossing and turning more than usual in bed that night while Ron easily snored away next to him. Usually, he was better about tuning it out, but for some reason, he couldn't stand it. Silencio worked most of the time, but he didn't want to risk not removing it before Ron woke up the next morning. One too many times the year before had gotten him more pillows to the face than he'd probably have for the rest of his life. Though maybe Ron could tell people he smothered Harry with a pillow, then no one would put his name in for the tournament. That was an idea that might work.

Before he knew it, Harry was grabbing his invisibility cloak from his trunk (quietly, though he didn't think it would matter), and trudging down the stairs, keeping to the shadows in case anyone was in the common room. Which, incidentally, it seemed there was. A single candle was burning steadily on the table, its companion a girl in pajamas who was hunched over a book, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

"Hermione?"

She nearly fell out of her chair, panting heavily, as if she'd been jolted awake. Harry quickly removed the cloak so she could see him, draping it over his shoulder and helping her up. "What are you doing down here? You should be asleep."

"Harry," she breathed, rubbing her eyes, then blinking a couple times to make sure she wasn't dreaming after all. "Is it morning already?"

"No, it's just past midnight… I was just-"

"Sneaking out."

"…Yes." He glanced over her shoulder at the tome lying on the table, but the words were too small to make out. "What are you reading?"

"I… well after what Fred and George said earlier, I got curious and… went to the library to see if there was any documentation of the wrong people being selected for the Triwizard Tournaments."

"And?"

"Nothing. At least so far. Though, I do admit it's not the most exciting of reads. I can barely keep my eyes open." She rubbed them again for good measure.

Harry looked down at the cloak on his arm. They'd gotten an unfair amount of alone time since summer, when they could hole themselves up in someone's room or find a secret spot in the garden or the fields where they couldn't be bothered. But now, between classes and mealtimes and crowded hallways and the common room, Harry could barely even remember the last time he'd snogged her, which meant it had been entirely too long. "Fancy joining me, then?"

Hermione's eyes flicked between the cloak and Harry's face. "You're… asking me to sneak out with you?"

"Wouldn't be the first time we've done it."

It certainly wouldn't, but now that they were together and sneaking out, pressed together under the invisibility cloak, it felt… well, Hermione suddenly felt her cheeks burning, and she was glad Harry probably couldn't tell in the dim light.

"Okay. Yeah. Sure."

Hogwarts during the day was daunting. Hallways looked the same, passageways would change and lead students to the wrong classroom, the staircases had a mind of their own, and the portraits liked to swap positions just for the hell of it. Hermione would never forget spending at least a week in her first year feeling like she'd walked around in circles for hours just trying to find the loo in an unfamiliar part of the castle.

Navigating it at night, however, was impossible. Thankfully, Harry had the Marauder's Map on him so they would at least know where they were. With no light source besides the occasional wall torch for patrolling students or professors, the whole castle seemed to blur into one room, one hall. And with it, everything around them disappeared. Harry was suddenly very aware of the feeling of Hermione's breath on his neck, the warmth of her hand in his that were making his own palms sweaty, the smell of her perfume, the way that her hair would brush up against his face when she got even closer. It was driving him mad. He lost track of where he was even trying to go in the first place. The library? No. The Quidditch pitch? Not in the dark. He hadn't intended on just walking around in silence. Surely there was some place they could go to talk. Or not talk. One of those options was quickly climbing the list of things he'd rather be doing right now.

He stopped suddenly, apologizing to Hermione, who'd run into the back of him, to pull the map out of his pocket.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"No idea."

"How do you not know?!"

"I got distracted!" Harry laughed. "I just-"

A crash down the end of the hall had their heads snapping up to look at each other. Someone - or something, which wasn't any better - was down there. Potentially someone who could catch them if they didn't move. "Shit. Come on. In here." Not letting go of Hermione's hand, he tried to open the first door he could see next to them, which he couldn't actually remember being there a second ago, and was surprised that it was actually unlocked. Once they were inside, he closed it as silently as he could, ripped off the cloak, and pressed his ear to the door.

"Harry…" Hermione said after a few seconds.

He didn't like her tone. Usually when she interrupted him as soon as they walked through a door, it was because something was waiting for them on the other side of it. This was going to be Fluffy all over again - he just knew it. He didn't even want to look behind him because he'd probably be looking death right in the face, but that meant Hermione wasn't safe either. He needed to protect her, so he made himself turn around and-

It was… cozy, to put it lightly. Not a large space, maybe the size of the dorm rooms. But instead of beds, there was a couch sitting against the wall with a few knitted blankets draped over it. More fitting for the Hufflepuff common room because of how plush it looked. He didn't mind the Gryffindor couch most of the time, but this was one that looked like he'd just sink into it if he sat down. The wall next to him had a small fire going, the perfect size to keep the room comfortable without it being overbearing. Across from the couch, where Hermione's eyes went immediately, were three floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled to the brim with what looked like a mixture of Muggle books and library books. Ones he'd seen before. Ones that he thought he'd seen in the restricted section. Surely they wouldn't just be in here if they belonged in the library, right?

Harry turned to his right to come face to face with a table full of snacks, ranging from healthy nonsense like fruits and raw veg to cookies, brownies, pumpkin pasties, and treacle tarts. His eyes widened.

"Harry, where are we?" Hermione's voice asked again, in a bit above a whisper as if she were still worried about them getting caught.

Tossing the cloak over the arm of the couch, Harry unfurled the Marauder's Map and opened it up on the floor, crouching down to search, and becoming more and more concerned by the second.

"What's wrong?" She could sense his worry, and immediately looked away from the books, a true feat in Harry's mind, and knelt next to him.

"I don't see us on here anymore."

"What?!" Her hands began working quickly over the pages, unfolding any flaps, scouring each and every inch of the parchment. "How is that possible? Unless…"

"Unless?"

Hermione stood up, licking her lips and crossing her arms over her chest. "We might be in the Room of Requirement."

"… The what?"

"It's a magical room. Obviously. It's normally hidden and only appears to those who need it. And it appears as whatever the person needs the most. For us, I guess it was a place to hide and…" She looked around the room once more. "I don't know what all this other stuff is for. Otherwise we would have just stumbled into a magical broom cupboard or something."

"So," Harry tilted his head back to the tray of treacle tarts, "those are okay to eat?"

Despite the look of playful annoyance and the sigh that left Hermione's lips as she stood, she said, "Yes. They should be fine. I'm sure they came from the kitchen."

"How does the room know what you need?" Harry asked, taking a bite of his treacle tart and collapsing onto the couch. He did, in fact, sink into it.

Hermione had forgone the food to look over the spines of the books. "I don't know," she admitted, "but with the entire castle being practically sentient, there's no telling, honestly. All of these books are so… random. Runes, plants, beasts, divination, fiction? Why would I need any of these?"

"Who says they're for you?"

Hermione spun on her heel, eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face. "Oh. I'm so sorry, it must be for the copious amount of reading you do in your free time."

"Not my fault I've got other hobbies."

"Like sneaking out in the middle of the night?"

"Looks like I've hooked you onto it."

A sheepish smile took over her face. "So what if you have? I'll have you know I would never sneak out on my own."

"So it's just because I'm here?"

"Of course. Every time I've risked expulsion, it's been for you, Harry," she teased, crossing her arms over her chest. "But… it's always worth it."

"It is. For me too. Adventuring isn't nearly as much fun alone."

"No." Hermione paused long enough to let her eyes take another sweep around the room. "No, it's not."

He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but he could see the wheels turning in her brain. It always amazed him to watch - now that he thought about it, he'd always been attracted to the way her mind worked. He loved the little furrow she'd get between her eyebrows so much, he would catch himself looking over at her during exams, just for a glimpse of it. A few seconds after it started, Hermione's eyes widened in realization, and she looked at Harry.

"What?"

"We're alone."

Harry darted his gaze around the room - she'd said it like it was a surprise, a little breathless for some reason, like the breaths that he'd felt on his neck on the way over here and… oh. The treacle tart in his mouth was suddenly dry, but he managed to swallow the last bite. "We are."

Hermione licked her lips and Harry's heart started working overtime. She didn't want to say it, because Harry has learned over the past few weeks that while Hermione could be confident in her school work and letting Harry know what she wanted, the number of times she had actually initiated anything since that first kiss had been few and far between. Part of it, he knew, was the first time, they'd been alone. Or, surrounded by strangers at least. At the Burrow, and here, there were always friends around, other students, people who even Harry knew used to bully her about her looks. He had thought she'd want to show everyone that Harry was her boyfriend, to prove that she was, in fact, an object of someone's affections and that someone just so happened to be Harry Potter. But instead, she'd really only told anyone who's asked, and despite the lack of physical space between them, they hadn't shared more than a peck or a short kiss since school had begun.

Even now, when they were alone again, she was nervous, trying to make herself smaller, clasping her hands in front of her so tightly and not moving from her spot by the bookshelf.

"You know," Harry began, in order to hopefully ease some of her fear, "on the way over here, I was actually hoping that we could get some alone time at some point. That's… I don't think that's why this room looks like this, I mean…" She was clamming up, getting more nervous, which wasn't his intention at all. "I just really want to snog you, Hermione," he blurted out, then promptly buried his face in his hands. "And we don't have to, obviously, if you're not comfortable with it or anything, but I've just been nervous about the whole tournament and I dunno… every time you look at me, all I can think about is kissing you again, and I know I can't all the time, so maybe I kind of did have it in my brain when we were trying to hide and that's why this couch is here and-"

"Harry," she finally breathed out, crossing to him and resting her hands on his shoulders. "Harry, it's okay. I… I wanted that, too. I… I do want that. It just… sometimes it's like I don't know when to be your friend and when to be your girlfriend, like it's going to ruin things. It just still feels weird even just kissing in front of our friends that-"

"I know. It's new. But… you're brilliant, Hermione. I'm sure you can figure it out." Harry's shoulders fell, and when he looked up at her, she was very close to his face. So close, in fact, that when he looked down to her lips, he couldn't even tell if her eyes followed or not. So close, that it barely took any movement on his end to meet her lips. Hermione sighed into him, grip loosening on his shoulders and if kissing was going to be like this forever, he'd be fine with it. He could taste Hermione's toothpaste. He could taste it more when their lips parted at the same time and his tongue accidentally brushed hers. It set off some electric sparks in his brain, and he thought she would stop in fear.

Instead, one of her hands hesitantly moved into his hair. Harry groaned at the gesture, surrounded by Hermione with every sense he could currently use. It was a bit awkward at the angle with her standing and him sitting, but somehow she managed to break them apart just enough that she could sit beside him. When he turned to kiss her again, their tongues melted against each other instantly, and Harry was proven wrong.

If this is what kissing Hermione could be like, he was in for a rough year.