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Just then, Hermione climbed through the portrait hole.
“Why weren’t you two at dinner?” she said, coming over to join them.
“Because – oh shut up laughing, you two – because they’ve both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!” said Ginny.
That shut Harry and Ron up.
“Thanks a bunch, Ginny,” said Ron sourly.
“All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?” said Hermione loftily. “Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone somewhere who’ll have you.
But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light. “Hermione, Neville’s right – you are a girl…”
“Oh, well spotted,” she said acidly.
“Well, you can come with one of us!”
“No, I can’t,” snapped Hermione.
“Oh, come on,” he said impatiently, “we need partners, we’re going to look really stupid if we haven’t got any, everyone else has…”
“I can’t come with you,” said Hermione, now blushing, “because I’m already going with someone.”
“No, you’re not!” said Ron. “You just said that to get rid of Neville!”
Harry watched Hermione become more and more agitated with Ron’s words as they bickered. His eyes flickered over her flushed face, not really hearing whatever Ron had said that made her skin become even redder. Before he knew it, Hermione had stormed off to the girl’s dormitories and disappeared up the stairs.
“She’s lying.” Harry heard Ron say, however his eyes were still locked on the staircase Hermione had disappeared up. When he turned to look at his friend, the redhead’s gaze was focussed on the same spot.
“She’s not.”
“Who is it, then?” Ron asked Ginny.
Harry wasn’t going to lie, he was curious, too.
Now that Ron had brought it up, Harry felt something uncomfortable swirling in his gut the more he thought about it.
Harry hadn’t even considered Hermione being an option. It wasn’t the fact that he didn’t realise she was a girl, of course he realised that unlike Ron, but more so the fact that she was his friend.
The horrified way that Ron spoke about the mere possibility of Hermione getting asked to the ball made it out to be impossible. Harry disagreed – he could tell why Hermione had been asked to the dance. The way Ron spoke about it made it seem that Hermione wasn’t pretty enough to reach his standards, or something stupid like that.
Harry largely doubted that was the case, or at least, he hoped so. He’d seen the way Ron looked at her sometimes…
The longer Harry thought about it, the more that weird feeling increased in his stomach. It was the same feeling he felt when Cho had told him she was going to the ball with Cedric.
This time, however, Harry had no idea why he felt like that. He couldn’t possibly be jealous of Hermione, right? He was happy that she’d gotten a date to the ball. She was smart, pretty, funny… of course someone would ask her.
Harry felt faint at the realisation of what he’d just thought.
Pretty.
Somehow, this led him to wonder if he’d asked Hermione early enough, would she have said yes?
Who was he kidding? Hermione was his friend. Perhaps that outcome would have turned out worse than Cho’s rejection... at least Harry didn’t really know Cho all that well. Not as well as he knew Hermione. Still, he didn’t quite know what her reaction could have been.
Maybe he should be glad he had this thought after Hermione was already taken. It had most likely saved him another rounds of embarrassment.
“What’s gotten into them?” Ron demanded, which abruptly yanked Harry from his confusing thoughts. To his embarrassment, his face felt hot, and it took him a moment to realise that he’d started blushing just from his thoughts. Thankfully, Ron didn’t seem to notice.
Instead of responding, Harry saw Parvati and Lavender come through the portrait hole. He thought about it for a second before he decided to take drastic action. There was no other way he or Ron would be able to get a date at this rate.
So, he asked them, face still red. A few giggles later, Harry was relieved to know that Parvati said yes to going to the ball with him.
Harry sighed when he learned that Lavender was going with Seamus.
“Can’t you think of anyone who’d go with Ron?” he said, lowering his voice so that Ron wouldn’t hear.
“What about Hermione Granger?”
Harry’s stomach did that weird jolt again, but he shoved it down and ignored it.
“She’s going with someone else.”
Parvati looked astonished, and Harry felt his face heating up for no apparent reason.
“Oooh – who?” she asked.
Harry shrugged. “No idea. So, what about Ron?”
With that, Harry headed back to Ron with assurance that his best friend would get a date out of Parvati’s sister, Padma. When he sat down, he became lost in his thoughts yet again as Ron continued to rant. Harry wished he knew who Hermione was going with.
By the time he was in bed that night, he couldn’t sleep. Both from the fear of having another one of those nightmares and his newfound thoughts of Hermione, and the what if’s if he’d asked her to the ball early enough. He’d been so focussed on asking Cho…
Jealously sparked in his gut again when he thought of her going with Cedric.
He had been starting to quite like Cedric. He was handsome, popular, brilliant at Quidditch and nearly everyone’s favourite champion. Nearly everything Harry wasn’t. He liked to think he was good at Quidditch, too, and had been prepared to overlook the fact that the Hufflepuff had beaten him in third year.
However, the longer he thought about Cedric, the more confused he became. Harry didn’t even know who he was jealous over – Cedric, orCho. The thought horrified him, but it wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it.
Just another thing that made him abnormal.
Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes. He was beginning to think this ball was more trouble than what it was worth. It made him question how he felt about Hermione, and then Cho and Cedric on extension. Up until now, he’d been sure he was fully attracted to Cho, with some fleeting thoughts of Cedric every now and then. But now Hermione…
He couldn’t possibly like his best friend like that, could he? It hadn’t even been a day and he’d started rethinking everything.
Hours into the night, Harry finally managed to drift off.
Instead of the usual nightmares, Harry dreamt about Hermione and her smile.
He’d never woken up more confused in his life.
-
In the days following, Harry found himself looking at Hermione differently.
He noticed things – like her smile, which seemed to have changed, but he couldn’t figure out how. It seemed different to how he remembered it.
He often wondered who asked her to the ball, but refrained from asking, unlike Ron. Each time Hermione was asked, she’d turn an impressive shade of red, ignore the question completely and continue whatever she was doing like nothing had been said. Harry, embarrassingly enough, found it endearing.
Harry had started to notice every little thing that Hermione did, and it confused him greatly. The way she focussed so intently on her schoolwork, the colour her eyes, her bushy hair. When he sat beside her, he started got distracted almost every time she shifted, or when their elbows or knees would knock together accidentally. When she held his hand, his palms always began to sweat. It was a reaction he’d never had until now, and he’d started to avoid the contact as much as possible in the fear that she’d notice.
It took him until the grounds were covered in snow to realise what was happening. He had started to think about Hermione in the way he thought about Cho.
His attraction to Cho had lessened somewhat after she rejected him. He had started to think about Hermione in the way he thought about Cedric sometimes – in the way that he knew he was getting a crush. If it had been on some random girl, Harry wouldn’t be so horrified. But this time, it was on one of his best friends.
But this was different to what he felt for Cho, or Cedric. Harry actually knew Hermione, and she knew him. She might even know him better than anyone else in his life, even Ron. She was always there, a constant in his life. Hermione gave him more hugs than he’d received in his entire childhood. She had stayed, unlike Ron, when his name was pulled out of the goblet. She’d hugged him so tight before the first task, held his hand, comforted him.
Hermione was just… Hermione. Harry started to wonder if he’d always thought this way about her but was too dense to notice.
They had been leaving the Great Hall when Ron, once again, sprung the same question on Hermione. Harry had been trying not to look at her in the hopes of shoving down his feelings.
“Hermione – who are you going to the ball with?”
“I’m not telling you, you’ll only make fun of me.”
Before Harry or Ron could say anything, Malfoy’s voice sounded from behind them.
“You’re joking, Weasley? You’re not telling me someone’s asked that to the ball?”
Harry whipped around and almost immediately felt himself grow angry. He wanted to lunge himself and Malfoy and punch the boy in the face for the insult, but before he could do as much as take a step forward, Hermione’s voice stopped him.
“Hello, Professor Moody!” She waved to someone over Malfoy’s shoulder.
Malfoy immediately went pale and jumped backwards in a wild search for Moody.
“Twitchy little ferret aren’t you, Malfoy?” said Hermione scathingly, and she, Harry and Ron went up the marble staircase laughing heartily.
Harry’s anger took a little longer to subside, and he barely found it in him to laugh. He would want to take Hermione to the ball.
His fury must’ve shown on his face, because Hermione’s smile faded, and she frowned at him.
“What’s wrong, Harry?”
“Nothing.” Harry said hastily. “I’m fine.”
“You looked like you were going to punch Malfoy’s lights out!” Ron laughed. “You should have.”
“I’m fine.” Harry repeated and forced a smile onto his face.
Hermione offered him a smile, one softer than before, as if she could read his mind and knew exactly why he was so enraged. Harry really hoped she hadn’t figured out the real root of his anger – she was far too good at reading people. Harry thought he might die if Hermione ever found out his new realisation concerning her. He’d much rather fight the dragon again.
“Hermione,” Ron interrupted, looking sideways at Hermione, a frown on his face. “your teeth…”
“What about them?”
“Well, they’re different… I’ve just noticed…”
“Of course they are – did you expect me to keep those fangs Malfoy gave me?”
That’s what had been different about her smile. It was a very different smile to the one he remembered, and he almost missed her old one. Harry openly stared at her as she explained what she had Madam Pomfrey do, then tripped up a stair because he hadn’t been looking where he was going. She had looked at him then but didn’t say anything. He looked away quickly and couldn’t meet her eye after that.
Harry found he was incredibly grateful for the distraction that Sirius’ letter brought.
-
Christmas day came quicker than Harry wanted it to.
When it came time to change into his dress robes, Harry wanted nothing more than to hide in his bed all night. He, Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville had all gotten changed into their robes, and all looked around at each other self-consciously. Ron more so than all of them, who surveyed himself in the mirror with an appalled look on his face.
Harry barely listened to the conversation around him as he too stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess like always, but there was no hope of taming it before the ball started.
The common room looked strange, full of people wearing different colours instead of the usual mass of black. Harry could see Parvati waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, but he couldn’t help but look past her in search of a familiar brunette. Harry didn’t see Hermione anywhere, and he wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved.
So, he turned his attention to his date. Parvati looked very pretty indeed, in robes of shocking pink, with her long dark plait braided with gold. Harry was relieved to see that she wasn’t giggling.
“You – er – look nice.” He said awkwardly.
“Thanks,” she said. “Padma’s going to meet you in the Entrance Hall.” She added to Ron.
“Right,” said Ron, looking around. “Where’s Hermione?”
Harry wanted to know the answer to Ron’s question, too. Parvati only shrugged and practically ignored the question.
“Shall we go down then, Harry?”
“Okay.”
The Entrance Hall was packed with students too, and Harry found he wished he could have stayed in the common room. Harry wasn’t used to seeing the students in so many bright colours as he observed the crowd milling around the doors to the Great Hall that would be opened at eight o’clock. He could see several people weaving through the crowd to meet their partners from other houses.
Padma appeared shortly after, but Harry barely paid attention to the conversation yet again as he searched the Entrance Hall for Hermione. She was nowhere to be seen, and he was beginning to wonder if she was going to show up at all.
Harry hoped she did.
“Where’s Hermione?” Ron asked again.
He didn’t get an answer, thanks to the Slytherins that came up the steps from their dungeon common room. Malfoy was in front with Pansy Parkinson hanging off of his arm. Harry was very pleased to see that Crabbe nor Goyle had managed to find a partner.
At once, the oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, accompanied by a pretty girl in blue robes Harry didn’t know.
“Champions over here, please!”
Harry felt the nerves begin to return as he and Parvati made their way over to Professor McGonagall who told them to wait by the side as everyone else went inside.
Harry looked around at the other champions and their dates. Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest to the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her. Cedric and Cho were close to Harry, too; he felt his stomach begin to churn even more when he looked at them.
Cho looked rather pretty in her silver robes. Cedric looked handsome in his black robes, and Harry quickly looked away from the both of them so he both wouldn’t have to talk to them or mull over the fact that neither of them was his date.
As soon as he had that thought, he felt awful. Thankfully Parvati couldn’t read minds.
Naturally, his eyes fell on Krum’s partner.
Now that she was closer to him, Harry realised exactly who it was. His jaw dropped.
It was Hermione, but she didn’t look like Hermione at all. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy, but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made of floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow. The reduction of the size of her front teeth was more noticeable than ever.
“Hi, Harry!” She said. “Hi, Parvati!”
Harry was too dumbstruck to say anything. He gaped openly at her, eyes flickering over her face as he tried to take in how beautiful she looked. Hermione stared back at him, still beaming, eyes shining. She looked so happy, and Harry wondered how he’d never realised how stunning she was before.
He finally managed to overcome some of the shock to shut his mouth, so he was no longer gaping, and had to force himself to take his eyes off her. He felt much like Roger Davies in that moment. To his horror, his eyes met Krum’s instead. The older teen was watching him with a look of curiosity on his face, as if he’d seen right through him.
Harry bit down the horror and forced himself to look away from the both of them before he said something stupid.
Soon, they were being told to head into the Great Hall. As he neared the top table, he caught sight of Ron and Padma. Ron was watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes, while Padma looked sulky. Harry had half a mind to feel bad for her.
When they were sat down and food appeared on the plates, Harry risked a glance over to Hermione. She didn’t seem to be worried about S.P.E.W. at all, and was in deep talk with Viktor Krum, and hardly seemed to notice what she was eating.
That feeling began to rise in his stomach again as he watched. He looked away and bit down on his lip hard enough for it to hurt.
Harry was being stupid, and he was quite aware of the fact. This didn’t stop him from wanting to kick something every time Krum made Hermione laugh. At least he wouldn’t respond like Ron had.
At the thought of Ron, Harry looked up from his plate and looked in the direction he’d last seen him. He spotted the redhead immediately, who had a very sour expression on his face, as if he’d just eaten something disgusting. Padma wore a similar expression, and as if she felt Harry watching, she glanced up.
Harry offered her an apologetic smile, to which she returned with a huff.
Minutes later, after listening to Dumbledore and Karkaroff talk around him, Harry’s attention was brought back to Hermione and Krum. Now, Hermione was teaching Krum how to say her name properly. He kept calling her Hermy-own.
“Her-my-oh-nee,” she said, slowly and clearly.
“Herm-own-ninny.”
“Close enough,” she said, catching Harry’s eye and grinning.
Harry’s stomach burst into violent butterflies when she smiled at him and was immensely grateful that his friend looked away when he blushed. Krum hadn’t looked away, though, and their eyes met for a split second. Harry looked away immediately and shovelled whatever was left on his plate into his mouth as a distraction. He saw Parvati make a face in the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t care less in that moment.
Sometime later, after the Weird Sisters had set up on the stage, Harry suddenly remembered that they had to dance in front of everyone.
It didn’t end up being as bad as it could have been, but he found he regularly let his gaze shoot to where Hermione was dancing flawlessly with Krum, smiling all the way. Every time his attention was captured, whether it be by Cho and Cedric or Hermione and Krum, he tripped over his own foot or stepped on Parvati’s, which earned him a glare as she steered them around the dance floor.
When the dance was finally over, Harry couldn’t wait to get away. At this point, he couldn’t even find it within himself to feel ashamed. He had embarrassed himself enough already.
“Let’s sit down, shall we?”
“Oh – but – this is a really good one!” Parvati said as the Weird Sisters struck up a new song, which was much faster.
“No, I don’t like it.” Harry lied, and he led her away from the dance floor and over to where Ron and Padma were sitting.
“How’s it going?” Harry asked Ron, sitting down and opening a bottle of butterbeer.
Ron didn’t answer. Harry soon found out why, when he followed his friend’s glare over to Hermione and Krum, who were dancing nearby. Harry forced himself to look away, and at Padma instead, who kept sending Ron disgruntled looks every so often and had her arms crossed. Ron was completely ignoring her.
Parvati sat down on Harry’s other side. She crossed her arms, too.
Within minutes, she was asked to dance by a boy from Beauxbatons. Harry barely paid attention to her as she left, too busy glancing between Cedric and Cho. He ended up watching Cedric the most, before he forced himself to look away and resisted the urge to slap himself across the face.
It wasn’t long before Hermione came over and sat down in Parvati’s empty chair. She was pink in the face from dancing and smiled widely at him when their eyes met. Harry forced the churning of his stomach to stop as he smiled weakly back.
“Hi,” he said. “You look very pretty. Are you having fun?”
Ron didn’t say anything, but Harry saw the way the redhead’s glare snapped toward him, as if he’d just committed a terrible crime. Harry barely realised what he said until it was too late, and his heart began to race as he awaited Hermione’s reaction.
Hermione blinked owlishly for a moment before her smile got even wider.
“Thank you, Harry. You look nice too.” She said, and then started to fan herself with her hand. “It’s hot, isn’t it? Viktor’s just gone to get us some drinks.”
Ron gave her a withering look.
And that’s when their fight began.
“- he said he’d been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me but hadn’t been able to pluck up the courage!”
Hermione said this very quickly and blushed so deeply that she was the same colour of Parvati’s robes. Harry felt a rush of jealousy tear through him as he looked between his friends as they argued. He had been so lost in trying to shove away the feeling that he hadn’t heard what Ron had said to make Hermione look like she’d just been slapped across the face.
“For your information, he hasn’t asked me one single thing about Harry, not one –”
It kept going and going.
“Ron,” Harry said quietly. “I haven’t got a problem with Hermione coming with Krum –”
It was a bit of a lie, but it wasn’t in the kind of way that Ron was thinking. His reason had nothing to do with the Tournament. It didn’t matter either way, because Ron ignored him too.
“Why don’t you go and find Vicky, he’ll be wondering where you are.”
“Don’t call him Vicky!” Hermione jumped to her feet, and stormed off across the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd at once.
Harry felt oddly disgusted at the look of anger and satisfaction on Ron’s face as he watched her leave.
“What is your problem?” Harry asked for a moment.
Ron scoffed, but said nothing.
When it was clear he wasn’t going to get a response, Harry got up from his seat and headed in the same direction Hermione had gone. Behind him, he heard Padma leaving and Krum questioning where Hermione had gone but paid no mind as he searched the hall.
It didn’t take long to find Hermione. She was stood to the side of the hall, her back to the crowd, shoulders shaking just slightly. Harry hesitated, then took a deep breath and made his way over. He forced the butterflies in his stomach down and stopped beside her, unsure how to proceed.
“Hermione?” Harry asked loud enough to be heard over the music and the pounding of his heart in his ears.
“Harry!” Hermione jolted and abruptly wiped her face.
“Are you alright?” Harry frowned at the tears in her eyes. Some of her hair had fallen out of place, and he had the overwhelming urge to tuck the strands behind her ears. He ignored the impulse and forced a smile onto his face. He felt it wobble. “I’m sorry about Ron.”
Why was he so nervous? He’d known Hermione for almost four years now, and he’d never felt like this around her before. This was how he got when he was around Cho, and even Cedric…
This was not the time to start comparing his feelings for Hermione to the ones he had for Cho and Cedric again.
“I’m fine, really.” Hermione shook her head and smiled, but it wasn’t as wide as it had been when she’d joined them. Her lip quivered slightly, and more tears welled up in her eyes. Harry wanted to kick Ron in the shin for being such a git.
“Viktor was looking for you.”
Hermione’s smile brightened a little, but she made no move to leave and broke eye contact.
Before he knew what he was doing, he offered his hand. “Do you – er – do you want to dance? With me?”
She looked at him, then his hand, which took an agonising few seconds. Harry was about to accept rejection and disappear back into the mass of students on the dance floor. He was surprised when Hermione took his hand and smiled at him. His palms were incredibly sweaty – he hoped she didn’t notice.
“Of course I will, Harry.” She beamed at him, almost as big as when she had been dancing with Krum. With her free hand, she wiped away the remaining tears on her face and let Harry pull her into the crowd. “I didn’t think you’d want to dance at all, given the way you looked with Parvati.”
Harry grimaced. “I don’t want to dance with her.”
Hermione stopped them in the sea of students who jumped around them.
He didn’t know what he was doing, but it was fun. Much more fun – and much easier – than dancing with Parvati. They both laughed loudly when Harry twirled Hermione, which resulted in her crashing into him and almost knocked him over. He ended up stumbling into a few people behind him, who let out disgruntled noises and moved away. When Hermione pulled back to look at him, their faces were much too close, and Harry felt his face heat up for the umpteenth time that night.
Hermione didn’t move for a few seconds, before her cheeks also became red as she pulled back. She didn’t let go of his hand, though, and they continued to dance around each other like nothing had happened.
Harry hadn’t had this much fun in a long time.
When the song ended, they were still holding hands and laughing breathlessly.
“We should get a drink?” Harry suggested when she noticed how hard she was puffing. Hermione nodded, and without letting go of each other’s hands, they made their way over to the drinks. Harry could barely think straight with the roaring going on in his ears and was only brought back into reality when he saw Ron, sat alone with Percy, at the same table as before.
The boy’s glare had become even more pointed, and Harry released Hermione’s hand at once. Hermione didn’t seem to notice as she poured herself a drink, and Harry quickly looked away. The glare was far too similar to the one he’d received after his name came out of the goblet, and it made him worry.
“You should get back to Viktor.” Harry said after a while as he sipped at his drink. He internally winced when he’d said practically the same thing as Ron, but thankfully, Hermione didn’t seem take it in a bad way. “He’s probably wondering where you’ve gotten to.”
“Maybe,” Hermione sighed, “I don’t know, though. He’s probably found a much prettier girl to dance with.”
Harry frowned at the look on her face. Hermione stared into her drink for a moment before she turned to look at Ron.
At seeing the look on his face, Hermione huffed and promptly snapped around to face Harry again.
“What are you talking about?” Harry said. “You are pretty, Hermione.”
Hermione laughed in a self-deprecating way. “Thanks.”
“Do you want to get some air?” Harry suggested when he noticed the mood was dropping again.
“Yes, please.”
With that, Hermione placed her half-full drink on the table and started to head to the doors. Harry followed suit and spared another glance to Ron. He looked even more appalled than he had staring at himself in the mirror up in the common room. With a deep sigh, he turned and followed Hermione out into the Entrance Hall.
Hermione had slowed down by the open doors to wait for Harry to catch up, and when he did, he didn’t expect for her to loop her arm with his. Harry tried not to react as they set off through the rose garden with fluttering fairy lights as they went down the front steps. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches.
He and Hermione set off along one of the winding paths through the rose bushes in silence, the air biting at his skin. Hermione shivered a little, but the silence stretched on until Snape’s familiar voice entered his ears.
“…don’t see what there is to fuss about, Igor.”
“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months, I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it-”
“Then flee,” said Snape’s voice curtly. “Flee, I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”
Snape and Karkaroff then came around the corner. Snape had his wand out, and was blasting rose bushes apart, his expression most ill-natured.
Harry and Hermione watched as Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students had points taken off of them as they scurried from the rose bush. Almost immediately, Snape’s eyes narrowed in Harry and Hermione’s direction.
“And what are you two doing?”
“We’re walking, sir.” Hermione said before Harry could make up an excuse.
Snape looked between them, his dark eyes looking dangerous. “Keep walking, then!”
Harry and Hermione continued down the path when Snape brushed past them, Karkaroff behind him.
“What do you think that was about?” Hermione asked, her voice low.
Harry shrugged as they continued to walk down the path. “No idea.”
Next, they found Madam Maxime and Hagrid sat on a bench talking quietly to each other. Hermione steered Harry away and past Fleur and Davies without hesitation, and it seemed to be a mutual agreement that their conversation was something they didn’t want to impose on.
Soon enough, Hermione sat down on one of the free benches, and Harry followed.
Harry’s brain was a whirlwind of emotions. He had to fight not to stare at Hermione – because she still looked beautiful, even when several strands of hair had fallen from her bun. Hermione seemed to notice his discomfort and frowned at him.
“Are you alright, Harry?” she asked, and reached out to hold his hand. Harry almost pulled it away. “You’re tense.”
“I’m fine.” Harry grit out. Why was he still so nervous to talk to his best friend? “Are you?”
“Yes,” she sighed a little, “It’s just… Ron’s being…”
Harry looked at her then, to gauge her expression.
“Do you like him?” The question came out without him meaning it to, and by the look on Hermione’s face, he wished he’d thought it through. Panic seized his heart as he looked away. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
“No.” Hermione interrupted. “I- no. He’s my friend and everything, but the way he treats me sometimes, it hurts, Harry. I don’t think I could ever like him like that.”
She was right. Ron had treated her particularly badly sometimes over the years, and Harry had just followed along with it.
“I’m sorry.” Harry whispered.
Hermione didn’t say anything, and Harry was surprised when she scooted closer and leant her head on his shoulder. Harry hesitated before he moved his head, too, and rested it on top of hers. Their hands were still entangled together, and Harry’s heart was pounding again. He was surprised Hermione couldn’t hear it.
After what felt like hours, Hermione straightened up but didn’t let go of his hand.
“We should go back now, don’t you think?” Her voice was quiet. “It’s getting cold.”
“Sure.” Harry stood up, and together, they made their way back into the Great Hall.
Ron was still sat at the same table, and Harry wondered why the boy just hadn’t gone up into the common room if he was having such a miserable time. Harry could see Padma and Parvati were surrounded by a crowd Beauxbatons boys at a distant table. Krum was nowhere to be seen.
“Want to dance?” Hermione said when they reached the crowd.
Harry nodded with a smile, and soon they were back in the midst of the chaos, laughing and twirling each other for the rest of the song. However, Harry hadn’t expected for the song to turn slow, and for couples to come close together to slow dance.
Hermione and Harry looked at each other for a moment.
Harry felt stupid just standing there, unsure what to do. He was about to make up some excuse to go and sit down before Hermione stepped closer and put her hands on Harry’s shoulders. Harry made an aborted move to place his hands on her waist.
“I don’t know how to-” Harry began, his entire body hot with embarrassment. “Don’t you think we should er – sit down before I stand on your foot or something?”
“Don’t worry, you barely have to move.” Hermione laughed at him. “Slow dancing is fun, come on, Harry. Relax.”
Then, they started to sway. Harry followed, even though he was supposed to lead, and found himself smiling too.
The song went on, and Harry and Hermione seemed to gravitate closer to each other the more they swayed. After a short while, Hermione pressed her face into Harry’s shoulder, hands intertwined behind his head.
They spent the rest of the ball like that, swaying slowly on the spot, Harry hardly able to comprehend what was happening until the music ended. The crowd gave them one last round of applause and started to make their way out into the Entrance Hall.
Harry and Hermione followed after a beat; Harry too dazed to really make his feet work.
When they reached the Entrance Hall, Harry saw Ron by the stairs, a scowl on his face as he looked over at Krum. Krum, who was with another girl.
He looked over to Hermione, who looked disheartened by the sight, but then she saw Ron and a real scowl appeared on her face.
Before anything could be said, someone called after Harry.
“Hey – Harry!”
It was Cedric Diggory. Harry hoped the floor would open up and take him with it. Cedric was not someone he wanted to see now, not after such a confusing night.
“Yeah?” Harry squeaked a little, Hermione’s attention also on the Hufflepuff.
Cedric glanced at Hermione, as if he didn’t want to say whatever it was in front of her. Hermione seemed to get the message and nodded, before she said to Harry, “I’ll meet you in the common room.”
Harry nodded, and turned back to Cedric, who looked between them with bright eyes. Harry tried not to let the horror show on his face as he waited for the boy to speak. The longer he stood here, staring at Cedric, the more he felt like he was going to vomit from nerves.
He was a mess.
“Listen…” Cedric lowered his voice when Hermione disappeared. “I owe you one for telling me about the dragons. You know that golden egg? Does yours wail when you open it?”
“Yeah,” said Harry.
“Well… take a bath. Okay?”
Harry wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. “What?”
“Take a bath and – er – take the egg with you, and – er – just mull things over in the hot water. It’ll help you think... trust me.”
Harry stared at him.
Then, Cedric was giving him the password to the Prefect’s bathroom, and then he had gone off to say goodnight to Cho. Harry could see her waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and he quickly looked away to avoid any more awkward interactions.
Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower alone, mulling over the strange advice that Cedric had given him. He entered the common room just to find Hermione and Ron having a blazing row.
Standing ten feet apart, they were bellowing at each other, each scarlet in the face.
“Well, if you don’t like it, you know what the solution is, don’t you?” yelled Hermione. More and more of her hair had fallen from her bun.
“Oh yeah?” Ron yelled back. “What’s that?”
Hermione clearly went to shout a retort back, before she shut her mouth and shook her head in silent fury. Her face contorted as she glared at Ron for a few more moments, before she turned to look at Harry.
“Goodnight, Harry,” her voice was strained.
With that, Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the girls’ staircase to bed. Ron turned to look at Harry.
“What was that all about?” Ron asked him.
Harry shrugged, and turned away from the redhead. Without a word, he headed up the boy’s staircase and straight into the bathroom after he grabbed his pyjamas from his trunk. When he exited the bathroom, he was glad to see Ron’s curtains drawn. He had no energy to deal with his friend right now.
Like most nights, Harry laid awake, thinking about the events of the night.
Eventually, he drifted off, and that night he dreamt of himself and Hermione slow dancing at the ball.
-
In the weeks following the Yule Ball, Ron and Hermione acted like nothing had happened. Harry felt like he was on a whole other planet as the second task got closer and closer, the burden of not knowing what he was going to do weighing heavy over his head as he tried to figure out everything else he was feeling.
By the time it was the morning of the second task, it felt like he was trapped in a nightmare. Even with Dobby’s Gillyweed solution, Harry felt sick as he looked around the crowd in search of Hermione. Ron had walked down with him, also looking for Hermione, as she had never returned from McGonagall’s office last night.
“Good luck, mate.” Ron patted him on the shoulder. “I’m sure Hermione will be here soon.”
“Thanks.” Harry grit out. Somehow, he didn’t think that was true.
Within minutes, since he’d been running late, he was forced into the lake and took his first icy breath underwater. The feeling was strange, and there was the distant thought of not knowing how to swim, but the Gillyweed seemed to help him enough to learn right there in the moment.
Harry had not expected to see Hermione down in the depths of the lake, surrounded by merpeople and two other people dressed in Hogwarts robes, and one young girl who looked like Fleur’s sister. Hermione was between Cho and what looked to be a sixth year Ravenclaw student. All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep, heads lolling onto their shoulders.
The sight made Harry feel sick. They looked dead.
Without an ounce of hesitation, Harry swam over to Hermione and cupped her cheeks. Her skin was as cold as the water itself, her hair floating around her like a halo.
Distantly, he thought of the knife that Sirius had gifted him for Christmas, internally kicking himself for not bringing it with him.
Harry looked around for something to cut the rope with. He grabbed a jagged rock from the bottom and began to hack at the rope tying Hermione down. After several minutes of hard work, the rope broke apart, and Hermione continued to float ominously in the water.
As he was examining Hermione’s lax face, Cedric appeared next to him, poised in front of Cho. They looked at each other for a long moment, before Cedric tapped his watch with his wand. Harry nodded, then brought his gaze back to Hermione. He was aware of Cedric swimming off with Cho but found he didn’t care about winning. Not when Hermione was in danger.
Even before he knew about Hermione, he didn’t care about winning. He just wanted to make it out of the lake alive.
Harry hooked his arm around one of Hermione’s and looked around. Krum and Fleur were nowhere in sight, and worry began to eat away at his stomach as he looked between Fleur’s sister, the Ravenclaw girl and Hermione.
In a flash of movement, the merpeople scattered, something monstrous hurtling through the water towards them; a human body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark… it was Krum. He appeared to have Transfigured himself, but badly.
The shark-man headed straight for the Ravenclaw and began to bite at the ropes. Within minutes, he was gone, and Harry was left floating there with Hermione and Fleur’s sister. In a split-second decision, he grabbed the same rock and advanced to Fleur’s sister. With the threat of his wand, Harry was able to break Fleur’s sister free and hook her under his other arm.
Merpeople rose with him as he made slow work of swimming upwards. He could no longer use his webbed hands to propel himself forwards, and his flippers also proved ineffective. Panic seized his heart as he got closer and closer to the surface, finding it hard to breathe.
The sides of his neck had begun to hurt again, and he was aware of the water in his mouth.
When he kicked hard, he realised his feet had turned back to normal.
The Gillyweed was wearing off.
A long stretch of time later, filled with struggling and agonising pain, Harry broke through the surface. He brought Hermione and the girl with him, and barely managed to suck in a breath before he went under again. He was so tired, his muscles hurt in every place imaginable, and he didn’t even know how to swim. The Gillyweed had taken that ability with it.
How had he even finished the task?
Before he could sink further, someone grabbed his arm and yanked him up to the surface.
He could barely keep his eyes open as he was dragged over to the platform, unsure who was pulling him, because he could see Hermione’s worried gaze as she swam behind him with the little girl. Harry promptly vomited the moment he was hauled onto the platform and looked up to see it was Krum who had dragged him through the water.
“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed as she clambered onto the platform beside him, coughing violently. “Are you alright?”
“Come here, you two,” Madam Pomfrey seized him and Hermione and brought them over to the others. Harry continued to cough as he was wrapped up in a blanket that felt like a straitjacket. She forced a hot potion down his throat, which almost made him vomit again.
“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed again; her arms still free. Harry made a small oof sound when she launched at him, arms tight around his neck. She kissed him on the top of the head and gripped his shoulders. “You must be freezing! You did it, you found out how!”
Harry hummed – embarrassed to feel tears pricking at his vision. He pressed his face in Hermione’s shoulder to hide his watering eyes as people yelled and cheered around him. Hermione didn’t let go, her hand now rubbing his back as he trembled. He wasn’t trembling from the cold.
“You’re okay?” Harry muttered low enough for Hermione to hear him.
“I’m fine. I promise.” Hermione pulled away then to look at his face. “Oh, Harry, really, I’m alright. We all are. Dumbledore wasn’t going to just let us drown.”
Harry felt incredibly stupid.
Then, movement caught his eye. There was a beetle in Hermione’s wet hair.
“There’s a beetle in your hair.” He murmured. Hermione absently flicked the bug away, her attention focussed on Harry.
“Never mind that,” she said. “Harry, I’m alright.”
Harry lowered his head both out of shame and to hide the tears that continued to well up in his eyes. Hermione pulled him into another hug, which felt warmer than both the blanket and the potion combined, and he simply rested his head on her shoulder as the world moved on without him.
Scores were read out, Harry tied with Cedric for first place. Harry’s stomach leapt with excitement, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to do as much as smile. Hermione squealed in his ear and hugged him even tighter, clearly more excited than he was. Harry relished in the feeling of her warm body against his, eyes falling shut as people finally started to move away from them.
“Come on, Harry, you’re going to the hospital wing.” Hermione, with the help of Madam Pomfrey, hefted Harry into a standing position. Harry moaned a little at the ache that tore through his body, shaking so much he almost fell back down. He must’ve been more terrified than he thought.
Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed.
When Ron finally made an appearance, he was looking between Harry and Hermione as if he had never seen them before. Harry was too tired to try arguing with whatever the boy was thinking, because it was most likely true, at least from his side of things. He simply let Ron hesitate before the redhead slung an arm around his shoulder and helped him walk to the hospital wing.
“Why’d you bring Fleur’s sister up?” Ron asked once Harry was settled in a hospital bed. “You didn’t actually take that song seriously, did you? Harry, you prat! You would have won!”
“Shush, Ron!” Hermione scolded. “Your best friend nearly drowned!”
Harry wasn’t listening. He had his eyes closed, ready to fall asleep.
Hermione was okay, and Harry found that was all that mattered.
-
YOU ARE A WICKED GIRL.
HARRY POTTER DESERVES BETTER.
GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM MUGGLE.
“They’re all like it!” said Hermione desperately, opening one letter after another. Harry felt sick. “’Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you, ’You deserve to be boiled in frog-spawn…’”
A moment later, Hermione shrieked as she opened the last envelope. A yellowish green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.
“Hermione!” Harry gasped without thinking, reaching forward to take her hands, but Hermione yanked them away and reached for a napkin.
“Ow!” Hermione cried as tears started in her eyes as he tried to rub her hands with a napkin. Her fingers were so now thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she was wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.
“You should go to the hospital wing.” Harry said as he stood and grabbed a few more napkins. He tried to hide his anger as he held Hermione’s elbow as she stood. “Ron, can you tell Professor Sprout where we’ve gone?”
Ron blinked at them, gaping a little, giving them that same shocked look he had given after the second task. Then, his mouth clicked shut and he nodded with a slight scowl on his face and he nodded.
“Come on.” Harry said as he began to lead Hermione from the Great Hall. Whispers followed them out, and Harry couldn’t help but let his own scowl morph his features as they made their way to the hospital wing. “I’m so sorry, I-”
“It’s not your fault.” Hermione snapped shakily. “You should go to class.”
“No.” Harry shook his head.
Hermione didn’t protest any further.
Harry hated the look that Madam Pomfrey gave him when Hermione was situated in a hospital wing, and then the look she gave him when he refused to leave. Hermione gave him a strange look, too, but seemed to be in too much pain to make a comment about it.
When Hermione’s hands were heavily bandaged, the two made their way to Care of Magical Creatures together.
“Thank you for coming with me,” Hermione said, “I don’t think I’ll open any more letters.”
“No,” Harry agreed, “it’s not worth it.”
“Are you alright?” Hermione asked out of nowhere. “You’ve been acting different lately. Is it the tournament?”
“We should be talking about you.” Harry ignored the question. “Your hands…”
“Will heal.” Hermione sighed. She looked truly miserable. “Harry, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Suddenly, the words I like you were on his tongue, but something completely different came out instead. Somehow what he did say was more mortifying.
“I think I like boys too.”
Hermione stopped walking, and Harry feared he’d made a horrible mistake.
“Really?” Harry didn’t turn around to face her but nodded.
“And girls.” He muttered.
“Oh, Harry, you know I love you no matter what.”
The words I love you made Harry jolt a little, but he ignored it. “I know. I love you too.”
Harry had to force the words out, so much that his voice sounded strained.
Hermione started to walk again and soon; she’d wrapped him up in a firm hug. Harry let out an involuntary sigh and wrapped his arms around her, some of the weight lifted off of his shoulders. They stood there for a long time, the only sound coming from some nearby classrooms.
When Hermione pulled away, she looked at him for a long time.
“I thought you might.” Harry’s eyes widened. “I see the way you look at Cedric sometimes. You know, you’re quite obvious, sometimes. You’re – er – really easy to read.”
Harry’s eyes widened even further, because if she’d figured out he’d liked Cedric, could she have figured out what he felt about her?
She was still watching him, clearly waiting for something. Harry just offered him a wonky smile, heart pounding, before he gestured in the direction they had been walking in before they stopped.
“We should get to class.”
The air had turned awkward.
Merlin, she knew, didn’t she?
Hermione nodded stiffly. “Yes.”
With that, they made their way to Care of Magical Creatures without another word spoken between them.
-
If Harry thought it was hard to look at Hermione in the eye when only he knew how he felt, it was even harder when he was almost one hundred percent sure she knew it too. They didn’t quite avoid each other – but things were tense. Tense enough that Ron seemed to have picked up on it, but even he didn’t say anything.
She knows, she knows, she knows was a constant chant going on in his head every time he saw her. Harry wanted to a dig a hole and bury himself alive.
Maybe he was beginning to be a bit dramatic, but this was his best friend. By the way she was acting, he was sure she didn’t feel the same way. It was the one thing he feared with liking Hermione more than friends – losing her friendship. He had thought it would pass, but it was only getting stronger.
The night of the third, and final, task came way too quickly for Harry’s liking.
Harry could hardly eat as he sat at the Gryffindor table with Ron opposite and Hermione beside him. They were worried, too, he could tell. Harry tried not to throw up as he force-fed himself.
Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table when the enchanted ceiling overheard back to fade from blue to a dusky purple.
“Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch pitch for the third and last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the stadium now.”
Harry felt like he was going to be sick even more than he had thirty seconds ago.
The Gryffindors had already started wishing him good luck as Harry stood. Ron and Hermione were among them, except Hermione stood too and hugged him.
“Good luck, Harry,” she whispered, “you’ll be alright.”
“Thanks.” Harry replied and pulled away. He forced a smile on his face.
Then, she surprised him, and did something she’s never done before.
Hermione kissed his cheek.
“See you later.”
“Yeah – er – see you,” said Harry awkwardly, but he was able to smile for real this time.
Harry pulled away from her after a moment and headed out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur and Krum. Hermione’s words were cemented in his head.
He would be alright.
-
Harry felt himself slam flat into the ground; his face was pressed into grass; the smell of it filled his nostrils. He had closed his eyes while the Portkey transported him, and he kept them closed now.
He did not move, aside from the involuntary and violent trembling as a side effect from the Cruciatus curse. The band played, the crowd celebrated, and hadn’t seemed to have realised what had happened. All the breath seemed to have been knocked out of him, and it felt like he was going to be sick.
He was half laying on top of something, that something he realised to be Cedric.
Cedric.
Harry slowly lifted his head, despite the dizziness, and stared. His glasses were cracked, distorting what he was seeing, but he could see Cedric all the same. Cedric’s once handsome face, pale and motionless, eyes unseeing. Harry’s chest heaved, and before he could try hold it back, the dam burst, and a painful sob tore its way from his chest. He had already been crying, but the sob that verged on a scream that wrenched itself out of him was agony.
The shock of seeing Cedric struck down had finally gone, and all that was left was the crippling trauma of what he’d just seen. The trauma of what he’d just had done to him, Voldemort’s return… it didn’t even feel real.
It felt real enough to know that it wasn’t a nightmare.
Once the first cry came out, he couldn’t hold in the rest, and his neck couldn’t support his head anymore. His head fell forward into Cedric’s chest as he sobbed, one hand still grasped tight around the handle of the cup. Not even moments later, someone tried to pull him back, but he refused and collapsed back onto the Hufflepuff’s motionless body.
“Harry! Harry!”
Someone gently held his face up, cradling his cheeks. It was Dumbledore.
“He’s back, he’s back!” Harry shouted. “Voldemort’s back!”
The crowd fell into a hush at his words.
“What’s going on? What happened?”
The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Harry; it looked white, appalled.
“My God – Diggory!” he whispered. “Dumbledore – he’s dead!”
Word travelled around the crowd fast, and the cheering and band seized. Now, only Harry’s loud sobs and onlookers’ exclamations of he’s dead echoed around the Quidditch pitch.
“Harry, let go of him,” he heard Fudge’s voice say, and he felt fingers trying to pull him away again. Harry shook his head, refusing to let go, still not having comprehended that this was real life, not another one of his nightmares. “Potter, you must-”
“Harry!” A familiar voice called out to him, further away in the crowd, which distracted him from whatever Fudge had said to him. At the same time, Dumbledore had started talking to him, and once again attempted to pull Harry away from Cedric.
“Harry, you can’t help him now. It’s over. Let go.”
Harry sobbed, “Cedric – he asked me to bring his body back. I couldn’t leave him, not there!”
“That’s right, Harry… just let go, now…”
“Let me through!” Amos Diggory cried. Harry whimpered pathetically as Dumbledore, with extraordinary strength for a man so old and thin, raised Harry from the ground and set him on his feet.
Harry swayed dangerously; eyes fixed on Cedric as his father barrelled through the crowd to get to his son. Harry couldn’t watch.
He stumbled to the side and felt his stomach churn violently. A split second later he vomited onto the grass, which caused several students that had congregated around them to step back in shocked silence.
His injured leg ached and throbbed with pain, but he could barely feel it.
“Harry!” Hermione’s voice – the one he had heard calling out to him earlier – echoed over the crowd. Harry looked up to see Hermione shoving past several students and Professors. Ron trailed behind her, his face ghastly pale.
His eyes returned to Cedric, who now had a black cloak covering him. Not for long, however, because Amos Diggory yanked it back to reveal the Hufflepuff’s dead gaze. Harry heaved again, bent over at the knees, about to topple over from the exhaustion.
Everything was happening to quickly. Diggory was screaming at the same time students were being hoarded out of the Quidditch stadium by multiple Professors, many girls sobbing as they were directed away. Harry caught sight of Cho – her back to him, shoulders shaking as her friends comforted her.
Then, his view was blocked by Hermione.
She was crying, too, tears streaking down her face as she reached out to him, then hesitated when he flinched.
“Harry?” She whispered, lower lip quivering.
Harry swayed again with a stab of pain from his leg, and Hermione didn’t hesitate to grab him. Exhausted, Harry’s knees buckled, and he ended up on the ground again, this time wrapped in Hermione’s arms. Ron reached them a moment later, silent as he kneeled down beside Harry and placed a firm hand on his shaking knee.
Harry cried uncontrollably into Hermione’s neck, and had just enough awareness to grip onto Ron’s hand. He was getting blood everywhere from the cut in his arm, but he found he didn’t care. The movement continued around him, but the rushing in his ears was beginning to drown everything out except the sound of Hermione’s voice.
“It’s okay.” Hermione was whispering, rocking him gently, one hand rubbing his back and the other in his hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Harry wanted to scream that it was his fault, that he should be dead instead of Cedric, but none of the words seemed to want to come out. Hermione continued to comfort him, her rocking motions soothing to a point. A kiss was pressed to his temple, but he barely felt it.
Then, a different, stronger hand rested on Harry’s shoulder.
“Potter,” it was Moody. “Come with me, I’ll take you to the hospital wing.”
Harry shook his head, but Moody ignored him and pulled him away from Ron and Hermione.
“Dumbledore said to stay.” Harry managed to force out.
“We’ll take him, sir.” Hermione grabbed onto Harry’s arm desperately as she spoke.
“It’s all right, Granger, I’ve got him… come on, son… hospital wing…”
“But Dumbledore-”
“Dumbledore told me to take Potter to the hospital wing.” Moody cut Hermione off. “You will be able to see him there.”
Hermione held onto him for a little while longer, before to his dismay, she let him go.
Harry tried to pull away from Moody’s hold, but the man had already started to half pull, half carry him through the frightened crowd. He found he could do nothing but sag in the professor’s arms as his sobs began to peter out.
The next period time was all a blur to Harry. Between Moody not actually being Moody, Sirius and the trip to the hospital wing, Harry fell into some kind of state of emotionlessness. He noticed the concerned looks Sirius kept giving him, but he didn’t have enough energy to reassure his Godfather that he was okay.
By the time was laid down in a hospital bed, late at night to the company of Hermione and the Weasleys, he couldn’t wait to go to sleep. Sleep meant he didn’t have to think anymore, he didn’t have to be in pain for a few hours.
He was thankful to be given Dreamless Sleep, and within minutes, he dozed off.
-
A month passed, and Harry found he barely has any recollection of the days after the third task. People skirted around him in the corridors, whispered about him when they thought he wasn’t listening.
The leaving feast was sombre. Harry listened to Dumbledore’s speech with a pounding heart, Hermione’s hand grasping his beneath the table. He kept his gaze on his empty plate in front of him, sick of all the stress he received when his name was mentioned.
Hermione didn’t let go of his hand for the whole walk back to the Gryffindor Tower, not until she led him to sit on the couches in front of the fire. Ron disappeared up the stairs to the boy’s dormitories without a word. Harry didn’t say anything and stared into the flames.
“Harry,” she began, voice wobbling. Harry turned his attention to her when she pulled something out of her pocket, and said, “take this. It’s my home number, I thought we could use Muggle communication rather than sending owls. We don’t have to, but if you ever need to talk to someone, you can call me.”
Harry’s heart swelled with affection as he took the small note from her hand and pushed it into his own pocket. Hermione continued before he could say anything.
“I wish you didn’t have to go back there.” She grabbed his hand again. “I could ask my parents to take me to visit you.”
Harry smiled softly for the first time since the third task. “I’d like that.”
“Oh, Harry!” She suddenly burst and threw her arms around him. “This isn’t fair!”
“I’m fine.” Harry said as he hugged her back.
“You’re not.” Hermione muttered. “I can tell you’re not.”
Harry heaved in a deep breath and tried not to let the tears well up. When he pulled back, Hermione’s face was a lot closer to his own than he expected, and for a moment he just stared. His feelings hadn’t gone away since everything that had happened, but they hadn’t been his main focus like before.
Hermione was crying, she hadn’t stopped since Dumbledore’s speech for Cedric, and Harry couldn’t help but reach up and wipe a few of her tears away with his thumb. Hermione’s cheeks tinged with red, but she didn’t say anything.
“Sorry.” Harry muttered and started to pull away. Hermione’s grip tightened, and he stopped.
“I know,” a small smile appeared on her face. “I know, Harry.”
She wasn’t talking about his apology, and this time he flushed.
“It’s all right, you know.” She pulled back, grabbed a book from the stack on the table near the couch and sat more comfortably. Then, she pulled Harry close enough to pull his knees to his chest and rest his head on her shoulder. Hermione opened the book and wiped the rest of her tears away. “But I know you liked him too.”
Harry bit down on his lip. Luckily, most of the Gryffindor students were already in the dormitories, save for a few seventh years who were tucked away in the corner. They weren’t looking at them, so Harry found he could talk about Cedric and not be overheard. However, he still whispered when he spoke.
“I didn’t like him as much as –” I like you. The words caught in his throat, but Hermione seemed to understand. “I was – er – still figuring things out. Does this… does this ruin things between us? Me – er –” Liking you.
Harry couldn’t get the words passed his lips. He had never thought to be talking to Hermione about his feelings for her.
“No,” said Hermione, “it doesn’t.”
Harry nodded with a sigh of relief that he barely managed to hold back.
Still, that didn’t really give Harry an answer to his unasked question.
A few minutes passed before Harry couldn’t hold it back anymore.
“Do you…?”
He felt Hermione tense against him, and he began to panic. He’d gone too far now, this would ruin their friendship, he knew it.
Harry prepared to get up and run to the dormitories but was halted when Hermione grabbed his hand.
“Yes.”
Harry gaped at her for a long moment. Hermione wasn’t looking at him, her eyes still trained on her book, but her face was very red.
“Since when?” Harry blurted.
“After the ball,” Hermione still wasn’t looking at him. “You were so obvious, Harry. Why else would I want to slow dance with you?”
Harry screwed up his face in embarrassment and hid behind his free hand. Hermione did look at him then, her expression fond as she squeezed his hand.
“That’s not a bad thing,” she said, “I was quite flattered, actually.”
“You looked beautiful.” Harry whispered, a little mortified with himself.
“Oh, stop it, Harry!” Hermione clearly tried to dismiss the compliment, but she was beaming in a way that told Harry she enjoyed it. Harry was glad her earlier tears had receded. “But, thank you. You looked very handsome too.”
“Thanks.”
Hermione let go of his hand and reached forward. Harry let her push his fringe away from his eyes, his mouth hung open at what was currently happening. However, it was nice to think about something else that wasn’t Cedric or Voldemort. Right now, just for a moment, he might’ve even considered himself a normal teenager with a crush.
“You need a haircut.” She said with another one of those fond smiles. “You will get one, won’t you?”
Harry nodded, too enthralled to say much.
Hermione’s eyes briefly flickered to the seventh years still in the room, before she cupped Harry’s cheek and leant forward. Before Harry could comprehend it, her lips were on his. The kiss was quick and chaste, and he had no time to reciprocate before Hermione pulled away and turned back to her book like nothing happened.
Harry – for the umpteenth time – gaped.
Hermione was grinning mischievously, and Harry was pretty sure she wasn’t even reading the book anymore. He didn’t think she’d been reading it at all since she picked it up.
When he gathered himself enough to close his mouth, Hermione slammed her book shut loud enough to make him jump.
“What-?”
“I’m going to head up to bed.” Hermione was still grinning. “Goodnight.”
Then, she leant forwards and pressed another quick kiss to his lips.
“Er- night?” It came out more like a question as he watched her stand. Hermione had never looked happier with herself and seemed to thoroughly enjoy that she’d made Harry completely, and utterly, speechless.
Soon enough, Hermione disappeared up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories, and Harry just sat there absently for a few minutes. He would have sat there longer, if he didn’t notice the looks that the seventh years were now giving him. They were smirking at him, like they’d seen the whole thing.
Horrified, Harry broke eye contact and practically flew up to the boy’s dormitories. When he barrelled into the room, he saw that Ron and Neville were still awake. They looked at him strangely when he entered, but Harry still couldn’t get any words out. So, he settled for ignoring them as he got ready for bed.
That night, instead of the horrors he had faced just a month ago, he dreamt about the feeling of Hermione’s lips on his.
-
Harry saw Uncle Vernon stood far away, for once without Aunt Petunia and Dudley, scowling as he waited for Harry to arrive. He repressed the urge to jump in front of one of the other trains coming into the station as he stood with the Weasleys and Hermione.
Mrs Weasley doted over him for a long time, hugging and fussing over him. While her own children would have found it annoying, Harry had to force himself not to bask in the attention, with the knowledge that he won’t receive much over the summer.
“Harry,” Hermione brought his attention away from the Weasley’s. “Remember the note I gave you?”
“Yeah,” said note was currently in the pocket of his jeans, “I’ll try call if I’m – er – allowed.”
Hermione frowned at that but didn’t comment.
“My parents are over there; I must be going now.” Hermione gestured behind her, and Harry saw Mr and Mrs Granger stood a little way down the platform, near Uncle Vernon. They seemed to be in a deep conversation, but every now and then, Mrs Granger’s eyes would flicker over to him and Hermione with a fond look. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah.” Harry was still reeling from the events of the previous night. He wasn’t sure if it had even happened. “See you.”
Hermione pulled him into a hug. Harry sighed into it.
“Boy!” Harry tensed at the sound of Uncle Vernon’s voice. “We don’t have all day, hurry up!”
“You best be going, too,” Hermione pulled back enough to press a solid kiss to his cheek. Harry flushed. “I hope you’ll be okay.”
She was talking about the graveyard, he could tell. Harry nodded.
“I will be.”
Then, out of his own initiative this time, he leant forwards and kissed Hermione. He hadn’t thought about it, he’d just gone straight for it without letting his nerves get the best of him and was happy when Hermione responded immediately.
There were several audible gasps from the Weasley’s behind him, but Harry didn’t care. Their kiss lasted longer this time, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from beaming when they parted. Hermione blushed, almost as red as a tomato, before she pressed one last kiss to his lips.
“Bye, Harry!”
“Bye.” Harry watched her turn around and skip off to her parents. Mr Granger looked shocked, while Mrs Granger was beaming. Harry waved, hesitantly, and was happy to receive two more in return. When Hermione turned back, she waved at him too.
“Harry!” Ron shouted behind him, loud enough to make him jump.
“Er-” Harry turned and scratched the back of his neck.
Ginny looked like she’d been slapped across the face, and Harry barely repressed his cringe. Did she really still have a crush on him, after all this time?
Fred and George looked smug, as if they’d known all long. Mrs Weasley was gaping – ah, right. He’d told her he and Hermione weren’t dating.
“Boy!” Uncle Vernon shouted again.
“Are you mad?” Harry asked after a second, the question directed to Ron.
Ron just stared at him for the longest time, before he shook his head.
“No,” said Ron, “I saw you two at the Yule Ball, you know. You’re a bit obvious, mate.”
Harry laughed awkwardly. “Sorry?”
“As long as you’re both happy, I suppose. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. After what you went through, you deserve to be happy.” Ron clapped him on the shoulder, then grinned. Harry sagged with relief. “See you next year, Harry!”
The rest of the Weasley’s bid him goodbye, and soon Harry was on his way to Uncle Vernon.
The man seemed too furious to say anything. Even if he had, Harry wouldn’t have cared.
For a moment, he had forgotten all about the tournament, about Cedric, about Voldemort and the horrible summer he knew he was in for. For a few minutes, he really felt like a normal kid. It was a feeling he got very rarely, if not at all.
Not even Uncle Vernon’s sour attitude and insults could wipe the smile off of Harry’s face.
For now (he knew it wouldn’t last long – it never did) he was happy.