Sometimes Your Brain Gets in the Way by coriander

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 24/09/2004
Last Updated: 24/09/2004
Status: Completed

One-Shot Sugary-sweet FLUFF! That's all I can say. Make sure you have your floss and
toothbrush or the cavities will abound. Enjoy! "I think I have reread this page about five
times. Oh, who am I kidding? I gave up reading this page a while ago, the moment my best friend
laid his head of dark hair in my lap."




1. Sometimes Your Brain Gets in the Way
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I think I have reread this page about five times. Oh, who am I kidding? I gave up reading this
page a while ago, the moment my best friend laid his head of dark hair in my lap.

It's like this every night. The three of us come down to the common room to study. We always
tend to be the last ones left by the end of the night. I sit on the couch with my legs crossed
under me and read whatever text I need to for my assignments or any other tome I bring from the
library for a bit of light reading. Ron sits in the armchair next to the fire, reading, writing,
daydreaming… whatever he feels is most important at the time before heading to bed and leaving
Harry and I down here to finish our work. Harry. Harry usually starts on the floor, using the low
table as his makeshift desk, then eventually he sits beside me on the couch. He always ends up
touching me at some point or another. I'm not saying that he gropes me or anything, just
touches… his leg against my leg, his hand brushing my knee, our shoulders rubbing together. Not
until about a week ago did he start making himself comfortable and laying his head in my lap.

I'm not sure what happened, but one night after Ron had given up keeping his eyes open while
reading yet another assignment for Professor Binns and had gone to bed, Harry scooted over, rolled
onto his back and laid his unruly mop on my leg. I didn't complain, why would I? Harry is
Harry. I don't question him. I think sometimes he needs a bit of comfort. I am glad I can give
that to him.

With all the stress Harry is under, I'm amazed that it is something as simple as using me as
a pillow that gives him comfort. I look down through the pages of my book, which has long been
ignored now, to see his face in peaceful concentration. I surreptitiously watch him under my book.
He looks so young, so innocent when he's not thinking about the war, Voldemort, or the
prophecy. His eyes shine like emeralds as they scan the pages in front of him. His lips curl and
move unconsciously to the words he reads. It's rather endearing.

How can a seventeen-year-old boy have so much weight on his shoulders? It's in these quiet
moments that I see that he is truly just as young as I am. But he has had to grow up so much faster
than anyone else in the world. I sigh heavily at the turn of my thoughts and see his eyes move up
to meet mine.

“'Mione? You all right?”

“Yeah sorry Harry, I was reading about the house-elf entrapment act of 1437. That's
all.”

“Um… Hermione?” My eyes catch his again from under my book. “Since when do they discuss house
elves in *Most Potente Potions*?”

*Oh sod it all!* See, I said I gave up reading that page. See what he does to me? I
don't even think he realizes that when he looks at me like that my heart does a million flips
and beats so hard I think it's going to pop right out of my chest.

“Uh... umm… I…” When did I become so eloquent? I look down and see the mirth shining in his
eyes. He caught me. I can't deny it. There is no way I can talk myself out of this one.

“Were you watching me again?”

*What?* Since when did he realize I was watching him? “Uh… umm… I…” OK here I go again. I
take a breath - I have to cover this one up. “I… I wasn't watching you Harry.”

He sits up and my leg is suddenly colder without his head there. I want him to lie back down and
ignore everything I have said, or haven't said in the past minute. I look up to see him smiling
at me.

“'Mione, I'm not blind. I know you watch me when we sit like that. You think I don't
do the same?”

My brain has now gone numb. Did he just say he watches me too? The only word I can even come
close to stammering out is a weak, “Why?” Stupid. I said it before I even thought about it. What
was I thinking? Clearly I wasn't thinking, that's the problem.

My discomfiture is amusing Harry. Obviously, by the way his eyes are dancing and his smile is
just holding his laughter back by a thread. Suddenly he pulls my book out of my hands and lays his
head back on my leg.

“I like sitting with you like this, `Mione. It's comfortable.”

*Comfortable for whom?* He has no clue what he does to me when he is this close to me. I
can never tell him. It's not like he could ever feel the same way. I like the way it feels to
have him so close to me. I just want to hold him and protect him and never let him go. I used to
put it off as a sympathetic motherly instinct that most girls possess, but I feel anything but
motherly toward Harry.

I nod at his statement, not daring my mouth to speak for me. It would inevitably get me into
more trouble than its worth. Without the book in my hands, I can't control the urge to brush
the fringe from his forehead, to run my finger through his unruly hair. I bite my lip to stifle the
urge and concentrate on not letting my hands go idle. Too late. My fingers graze the hair on his
forehead and one finger subconsciously traces the scar that marked him as Voldemort's
enemy.

I watch as his eyes close and a heavy sigh falls from his lips. I know he hates the attention
that scar brings, and I curse myself for tracing it like I did. I move my hand back to my lap, but
before it falls to rest on my other leg, Harry has reached up and pulled it back to his forehead. I
look down at him and see that his eyes are still closed. He sighs again as I run my fingers through
his hair.

“I like it when you do that.” His voice is nothing more than a whisper and his eyes open slowly
to look into mine.

I have seen many emotions play across Harry's face and shine in his eyes. I have never seen
this look before. I methodically recheck the list in my head or all the possible expressions Harry
has… tired, angry, confused, irritated, curious, stubborn, sad, hurt, fearful… no, I just can't
place this one. It's none of those. My eyes bore into his trying to figure out was he's
thinking. I know Harry better than he knows himself sometimes, and this is very disconcerting for
me.

He laughs.

“What, pray tell, is so funny?”

“You're trying to figure out what I'm thinking aren't you?”

I mentally slap myself in the forehead. I think I know him better than he knows himself, but you
know what? It works the other way around too. Having a best friend like Harry is interesting. He
usually knows what I'm thinking before I do. Scary, huh?

“What *are* you thinking about Harry?”

“Us… you… me…”

My heart skips a beat. No, I am just being a lovesick teenage girl. He can't mean… “I like
what we have `Mione.”

“And what do we have Harry?” Ouch, all right, that sounded worse than it should have. If it came
out as bad as I thought, he didn't acknowledge it. He just shrugged his shoulders slightly
before answering.

“I don't know how to put it into words exactly. I like that we are comfortable around each
other. I like the way you make me feel when I see you smile, or when I catch you watching me like
you were.”

“I was not!”

“Hermione, it's all right. I like that you watch me. Like I said, I watch you too. I like to
watch the way you bite your lip in concentration. I like to watch the way your eyes move across a
page taking in every word like it was a treasure. I like the way your nose crinkles up when you
read something you don't agree with. I just like watching you.”

I can't help but smile at that. I'm not sure what exactly to say, but I can't help
but smile. We sit in companionable silence for a few moments before I look back down at him and see
him staring at me once more, that same look in his eye.

“Do you want to know what I'm thinking now, Hermione?” He whispers softly. I nod. Words have
failed me tonight. I have never had so much trouble trying to speak in my life. Usually you
can't shut me up. As I look into Harry eyes again, I am brought out of my mental diatribe and
am taken aback by the intensity of his gaze.

“You're beautiful,” he whispers even softer than before. “That's what I am thinking
about - how beautiful you are.”

I can't help the blush that creeps up my neck and face. No one has ever called me beautiful
before. Well, my parents have, of course, but that's what parents are supposed to say. There is
no possible way that Harry thinks that I am beautiful. I have frizzy, mouse-brown hair, dull brown
eyes, I don't wear makeup. I am nothing compared to half the girls here at Hogwarts. As far as
compliments go, I am no good at taking them. Especially when I know the person giving me the
compliment must be off his rocker.

“I am far from beautiful, Harry. Look at Lav…”

His fingers come up and cover my mouth before I can go on. An involuntary shiver runs up my
spine at the feel of his calloused fingers against my lips. He turns on to his side so he can lift
up and look me in the eye.

Does he know what his eyes do to me? It feels like he is boring through my soul. Those emerald
gems behind long, dark eyelashes are my weakness. I have to look away. I can't handle the
intense scrutiny of his gaze.

“Hermione Jane Granger, how can you say that you are not beautiful? None of the girls here have
anything on you. They use makeup and all that other goop to make themselves pretty. You are
naturally beautiful…” I open my mouth to protest yet again, and he shakes his head and
continues.

“It amazes me how you don't see it. Your hair is gorgeous, in the firelight it has this red
hue, kind of like Ron's, but in the sunshine, it has all these different shades of brown and
blonde that reflect the light. It is curly and long. I know quite a few guys that would love to get
lost in the haphazardness of it. It's rather sexy, in my opinion.” He winks at me. It throws me
off a bit. When has Harry Potter ever winked at anyone? Let alone, why would he choose now to wink
at me?

“Not to mention your eyes. They're not just this plain brown as you keep thinking they are.
Your eyes are like chocolate with bits of caramel swirled in.” Ok, when did Harry Potter become a
romantic? My brain is on overload. I have never thought that anyone, ANYONE would ever tell me
these things, let alone my best friend. My best friend, who's hand is lying across my lap and
making small circles on my side. My best friend, who up until a few minutes ago never even looked
at me like I was anything other than his friend - his friend that just so happens to be a girl.
*Where is all this coming from?*

My thoughts must have betrayed me. I must have asked that question out loud, because he is now
sitting up and his hands are cradling my face. Harry's hands are cradling my face!

“You don't know do you?”

“Know what?”

He shakes his head and chuckles a bit. How is this funny at all? And what in Merlin's name
don't I know? There are those eyes again, looking at me with that damned look that I can't
place. His hands are still on my face and it is so very distracting. How can I think when all I
want to do is turn my head and kiss one of those hands or just drown in the emerald pools twinkling
at me?

“For being the smartest witch in Hogwarts, you are a bit slow on the uptake aren't you?”

“Wha…”

Harry's smile takes the words out of my mouth and all thought from my head. Then he does the
unthinkable, not that my brain was capable of any coherent thought at the moment anyway. But when
his lips touched mine my brain shut down. I didn't do anything. I just sat there. My best
friend, the man I have loved for years, the man I think I am in love with, that could never ever
return my feelings is kissing me, and what do I do? Nothing.

“Do you see now?”

I open my eyes. When did I close them? I still don't understand what he's saying. Do I
see what? Oh sod it, I can't think. I have never felt so powerless in all my life. I always
have an answer for everything. Why can't I comprehend what the bloody hell is going on
here?

He chuckles again. *Dammit, Harry stop laughing at me, or so help me I will hex you so bad our
children's children will feel it.* Oh, Circe, did I did think what I think I just thought? I
close my eyes at the treacherous coup my heart is trying to throw against me. There is no way I
just thought about having children with my best friend. My best friend who just kissed me. Oh…
Harry just kissed me. Why did Harry just kiss me?

“You still don't understand do you?” I shake my head before I can even think about what in
blue bell flames he means.

“Hermione, you are beautiful. You are funny. You are intelligent. I wish you could see all of
that. I know I see it. I have for a while.” I look up at him and see a faint blush on his face that
mirrors the one on mine.

“Harry…” My voice is just a whisper that escapes of its on volition. His eyes have not left
mine, and I can't make myself look away. There is this electricity in his touch on my cheeks
that is keeping me from looking away, almost as if his magic were keeping me there looking at
him.

“'Mione, let me say this, please. We have been friends for going on over seven years now.
You have always stood beside me, even when I haven't deserved it. During the summer hols, I
realized something. I can't do anything without you beside me. I have been scared out of my
mind at what may happen in the next few months, but when I am with you, all that goes away. Why do
you think I have been lying on this couch with you every night for the past week? Why do you think
I watch you like you watch me? Why do you think I know all of your little quirks better than you
do?”

“I… umm…” There goes my eloquence again. I can't think when he looks at me like that. How am
I supposed to answer that question?

“It's because, Miss Granger, I have fallen in love with you; hopelessly and madly, in love
with you.”

He's *what*? I couldn't have heard him right. There is no way that Harry just told
me he's in love with me. It's impossible. It's supposed to be the classic tale of
unrequited love from one best friend to the other. This is not the way the stories go. I am
supposed to pine over him for the rest of my days, because there is no way in all of the Wizarding
world that Harry Potter can be in love with plain old Hermione Granger. It's inconceivable.

“I…”

I honestly am speechless. I have no clue what to think or what to say after such a confession
from Harry. I have watched him for years, more so in the past year, and never ever had the inkling
that he was doing the same to me. I look up to meet his eyes again. I don't know when I looked
away, but I couldn't keep staring at him and trying to comprehend his words at the same time.
Instead of the look that I couldn't place, he now looks like that scared eleven-year-old on the
Hogwarts Express. He just confessed his love to me, put everything on the line, no wonder he looks
terrified. His hands have fallen from my face and his shoulders have slumped.

“I'm sorry, `Mione. I shouldn't have said anything. I ruined it all.” Before I can
register what is going on now, I see him stand up and start gathering his things off the table. I
am still numb. My brain has gone on hiatus, my mouth is not responding, and my throat hurts from
trying to speak but not knowing what to say. I watch him and he starts toward the stairwell, and my
heart aches. I love this man. He just told me he loves me too. Why is he walking away? It's at
that moment I realize that he has no idea how I feel about him. I haven't said anything since
he poured his heart out. He must think… no.

“Harry!” I call as he reaches the bottom step. He stops but does not turn around. I can feel the
hurt he is feeling at my lack of response. I can feel all the tension and rejection in his body
without even seeing his face. I go to him. I know you can't apparate inside the walls of
Hogwarts, but I can't explain how fast I got to him any other way. My hands are shaking as they
wrap around his waist. I bury my head in his strong back and I whisper, “I love you too,
Harry.”

I can feel his body tense in my arms. He turns and I look up to see his eyes. They are shiny
with tears and my heart breaks at the idea that I made the most powerful wizard in the world cry.
We were laughing just 20 minutes ago, how could it have changed so fast? I know how it changed. I
did it. I was stupid. I couldn't comprehend that he could possible feel the same way for me as
I do for him. I hurt him. I broke his heart. For what? Because I was too dumbfounded to say I felt
the same.

“Hermione, don't say it unless you mean it. I can't bear…”

I cut him off with my lips. His lips are so soft, why didn't I notice it when he kissed me
before? Probably because my brain went into shock at the fact that he did that. But that's all
behind us now. I am kissing him with every ounce of love I have ever felt for him, and he is
kissing me back. It is heaven. That is the only way to describe it. Pure heaven.

He pulls away slightly to look in my eyes, which are now probably as shiny and wet as his are.
“You do?”

I nod and smile up at my best friend, my love. “Yes, Harry I do.”

He shakes his head. “Then why didn't you…”

I laugh lightly and my hand reaches for his. Our fingers intertwined and it is perfect; like we
were made to fit together. “I was in shock Harry. I never thought that you could feel the same way
as me. And then when you said all those wonderful things, it took my breath away. I was waiting to
wake up and it all be a dream. I couldn't get my mind to wrap around the idea. Not until I saw
you walk away did I realize that I hadn't said anything. I love you Harry. I have for a while,
I just never expected it to be reciprocated.”

He smiles and my heart leaps. “You think too much, Hermione. You need to let your brain take a
vacation sometimes,” he teased.

“I think that was my problem. My brain went AWOL.”

We laughed together, standing there at the foot of the stairs to the boys dormitories, wrapped
in each other's arms. I have never felt so at home, as I do right now. I can't help but
laugh at myself. Here I was watching him, pining for him, loving him, and he was doing the same.
How stupid am I? Yeah, I guess being the smartest witch in the history of Hogwarts has its
advantages, but not in this. Love. Hoping. Waiting. Watching. Smarts and intelligence have nothing
to do with what the heart feels. I know that now as I look up into the green eyes looking at me
adoringly.

I let my heart lead as I kiss him again, or did he kiss me? Well, no matter, we kissed each
other. There's that logic that I am supposed to possess. It feels good to have that back, but
it feels better to be kissing my best friend. I'm kissing my best friend. *What does this
mean? Where do we go from here? We just stepped over that line between friendship and love. No, we
didn't just step, we hurdled it.* My mind is working a million miles a minute. *What
happens now? Are we a couple? Are we just friends with benefits? What will everyone say? Hell, what
will Ron say?*

Harry pulls away from the kiss and looks down at me and smiles. “Will you just shut that brain
down for a minute? Quit thinking. Like I said, you think too much. Let it go `Mione. We'll just
take it one step at a time, together. Just know that I love you and that's all that
matters.”

How does he do that? How did he know I was analyzing everything? Well, I guess it is a normal
Hermione thing to do, so of course he would know what I was thinking. He isn't my best friend
for nothing. I look up to meet his eyes. My brain instantly clears. I can see it. That look he had
before that I couldn't place. I know what it is know. Love. He loves me. And he's right,
that's all that matters.

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