Disclaimer: Nope. I’m not JK Rowling. This will become fairly obvious as the story progresses and my lack of brilliance shines through. Therefore, all recognizable characters belong to her and her alone. Only the plot is mine.
Author’s note: For those of you who think Harry is being a little bit too dense, remember that girls and boys generally do not think in the same way or pick up on the same signals. Also, the poor guy is just a tad distracted by Hermione’s “ um “ tactics; this makes everything even more difficult for him to understand.
WAKING UP HARRY
Chapter Five: The Plan Takes a Brief Detour
Breakfast the following day was a quiet affair, punctuated only by the sounds of gulping and smacking while Ron attacked his food. Completely unaware of the previous evening’s late-night encounter, he sensed the tension between Harry and Hermione but saw no reason for that to inhibit his enjoyment of a perfectly good breakfast. Besides, he thought reasonably, a man whose two best friends are going mad needs to keep his strength up.
“Hey, Harry.”
“Ummm?”
“Are you going to eat those sausages?” Ron asked, eyeing them hungrily.
“No,” Harry said absently. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks, mate. Oi, Hermione . . .”
“Here,” she sighed, pushing her untouched plate of scrambled eggs and bacon over to him. “Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks,” responded Ron cheerily, shoveling away. “Hate to see good food go to waste.”
Hermione snorted.
Harry grunted.
“Well,” said Ron, “aren’t we both just two little rays of sunshine today! Come on mate,” he nudged Harry, “what’s there to be glum about? It’s the weekend, the rain has stopped, and we have the whole day to enjoy ourselves.”
Hermione went on immediate alert. “The whole day! Ron, are you insane? Your Herbology project is due in just one week, and the final draft of the Transfiguration essay needs to be ready by Tuesday! Not to mention the two feet of parchment for Potions on . . .”
Ron grinned.
“Ron!” she said sharply.
“Done,” Ron crowed triumphantly. “All done”every last bloody bit!”
“DONE?!” Harry and Hermione chorused incredulously.
“How can everything possibly be done?” Hermione asked suspiciously. “We’ve hardly seen hide or hair of you for the past week and haven’t seen you in the library for even longer than that.”
“Yeah, well,” Ron’s ears slowly turned pink.
“Ron?” Hermione asked sternly.
“Well, uhh, you,” Ron cleared his throat, “you, uhh, didn’t see me in the library because I was doing my studying somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else? Where then? The common room? We’ve barely seen you there either lately,” Harry said doubtfully.
“Not exactly,” Ron answered shortly.
Harry looked puzzled for a moment and then, whispering, “If you’re trying to put one over on her,” motioning to Hermione, “you know it won’t work. She’ll get it out of you eventually and it’ll be the worse for you.”
“I’m not trying to put anything over on anyone,” Ron protested. “I did it, I tell you!”
Hermione fixed him with a beady eye. “We haven’t seen you in the library. We’ve hardly even seen you in the common room. For the past few weeks you’ve been running out the minute class is over and have resisted all my attempts to help you. Now you’re saying that you have not only started, but completed, everything. Everything?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” Ron questioned with an injured air.
“YES!” came the refrain.
“Well . . .” the pink stain had now spread from his ears to the rest of his face. “I did have just a little bit of h-help.” And he renewed the assault on his breakfast, cheeks bulging and mouth working furiously.
“Help? From whom?” inquired Hermione.
“Ubb, um,” Ron sputtered. “Candtalkdow. I’beating.”
Hermione raised a brow. “That’s never stopped you before,” she noted dryly.
Ron choked, turning an alarming shade of crimson. Pounding on his chest, he grabbed his tumbler of pumpkin juice. After several enormous gulps, he slammed the juice back on the table and jumped to his feet.
“Well, gotta run. Nice day”outside.” And with that cryptic remark, Ron practically bolted for the door.
Harry and Hermione stared after his retreating figure.
“What on earth . . .?” Harry asked, stunned.
Hermione’s gaze narrowed, her razor-sharp mind racing over the events of the past two weeks. Hmmmm. Since the inception of The Plan, she had been so focused on herself and Harry that she had neglected the other boy in their trio.
“Harry,” she said, slowly turning to look at him, “have you noticed that Ron’s been acting differently lately?”
‘No,’ Harry thought bluntly, ‘I’ve been too busy trying to figure out what’s up with you, Hermione.’ Then, out loud, “Er, no. I haven’t noticed actually. Why?”
Hermione didn’t answer for a moment. Her gaze became unfocused as she concentrated on the problem at hand. Harry knew well enough to leave her alone and was content just to watch her.
He loved the way Hermione looked when she was deep in thought. First she would take hold of one particular piece of hair at the side of her right temple, smoothing it back and forth between her fingers. Always the same piece of hair. As her concentration grew deeper, she would twist it round and round her right index finger until her thought process found a focus. When the problem was particularly perplexing, she would screw up her face and a little crease would form in the centre of her brow. It was really rather adorable.
There! The crease!
Harry always knew when she had come to a solution because she would release the curl with a quick movement, reach out with her left hand, and grab hold of his wrist.
“Harry!” Hermione gasped, let go of the curl she had been worrying, reached out with her left hand, and grabbed his wrist.
“I can’t believe we didn’t notice before. How could we have been so blind?” she said excitedly.
“Notice what?”
“Ron! The way he’s been acting over the past two weeks. Do you realize that we never asked him? How do you think it went?
“Ask him what? How what went?” Harry asked. He wanted very much to follow her train of thought, but was failing miserably.
“Honestly,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry, where have you been? Think now.”
“Oookay.” Harry was willing. He really was. The only problem was that he had absolutely no clue what she was talking about. In addition, she was still holding his wrist (‘That’s Stage Two, Item D accomplished,’ she realized, startled), bouncing it up and down on her skirt-covered thigh in her enthusiasm.
‘Wow, her hand feels soft,” he thought, bemused. ‘And when did her hands get so much smaller than mine?’ He was fully aware, of course, that girls were, in general, not as large as boys. But he’d never actually linked this concept with Hermione.
“Harry?” ‘He’s staring at our hands. I wonder if he’s noticed that I haven’t let go yet.’
“Well . . .” he managed.
She looked at him expectantly.
“Er, I dunno,” he said, eyes still focused intently on his bouncing wrist”and the thigh it was being bounced on.
“Let me give you a hint,” Hermione sounded a little frustrated. He glanced up and they locked eyes. “Hogsmeade.”
“Hogsmeade? What kind of a hint is that?”
Another eye roll from Hermione. “Think!” she ordered.
Harry was thinking, desperately trying to come up with something. He looked at her blankly, baffled at first; then his eyes widened.
“Of course,” he said eagerly. “The Hogsmeade trip with Luna! Hermione, you’re brilliant! I bet Ron made her cry! When they were at Madam Puddifoots! She probably wanted him to snog her, but of course being a girl she’d never come out and say she wanted a snog. She hinted at it and because he’s not a girl, he’s not a bloody mind-reader,” he added a bit bitterly, “he didn’t get it. Or he didn’t want to snog her. And so he didn’t do it and she got mad!
“Now what have I said that’s got you in stitches?” he asked in annoyance. For Hermione had let go of his wrist and was giggling almost hysterically, hands clamped over her mouth.
“Oh, oh,” she gasped, tears of mirth leaking out of the corners of her eyes.
“What? What’s so funny?” he asked irritably.
“It’s just . . . it’s just,” she managed, making a valiant attempt to control her giggles, “you’re just so . . . just so . . . Harry!”
“I’m just so Harry?” he repeated incredulously. “What on earth is that supposed to mean? Hermione, you’re not making any sense.”
Harry didn’t know whether to be cross or worried. Talk about Ron! Hermione had been acting very oddly over the past few weeks: stroking his cheek, smelling like peaches, soft hair brushing against his arm, soft hands grabbing his wrist, soft . . . everything about her lately seemed to be soft. ‘Well, not everything,’ he thought fairly. As far as character was concerned, she wasn’t soft at all. And when it came to loyalty and bravery, well Hermione wasn’t soft there either. She just felt soft . . . or to be more precise, she was soft physically . . . .
‘NO! Stop it,’ he chastised himself. Thinking about how Hermione felt (literally) or about any other physical aspects of Hermione did not seem to be wise at this point in time.
Hermione was vastly entertained by the myriad emotions flashing across Harry’s face. It occurred to her that now might be a good time to give Stage Two another go. Removing her hands from her mouth, she put one hand on Harry’s shoulder and the other on his cheek. Then she tilted her head forward and leaned her forehead on Harry’s chin.
Controlling her laughter, she let out a watery chuckle and raised her head.
Harry’s expression was priceless. He somehow managed to look indignant, baffled, and terrified”all at the same time.
“Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just that I thought I was being so very clear, and when you obviously didn’t pick up on my meaning, I . . . I,” an additional small gurgle of laughter escaped, “well, I lost it there for a moment.”
“Sure did,” was the gruff reply.
‘She’s doing it again! She’s stroking my cheek”well not exactly stroking, more like touching . . . and her hair was tickling my chin a minute ago. . . she still smells like peaches. I wonder if she uses some kind of peach-scented shampoo? Or maybe peach-scented soap?’
Harry wanted to stay annoyed and focused but had become somewhat distracted by the mental image of Hermione in the bath with that peach-scented soap . . . Hermione with peach-scented soap bubbles all over her soft peach-scented hands; lathering her thick hair with peach-scented shampoo and then that same peach-scented shampoo dripping down over her shoulders, foaming all over her peach-scented . . .
With a start he realized that Hermione was speaking again”had perhaps been speaking for a while.
“. . . and the only possible conclusion we can come to, based on all these factors, is that Ron has been seeing Luna.”
“What?” Harry wished he had been listening more carefully.
“Well, all the factors I just mentioned. Everything points to Luna. Think about it, Harry: Ron is never in the library, but his homework is all done; not only is it done, it’s done early. He hasn’t asked me to help him, now has he? He hasn’t asked me to help him or asked to copy my notes or any of my answers since we got back from Hogsmeade two weeks ago. He’s hardly been in the common room at all and races away each day when class is over. Neither one of us has done anything to make him upset, and he doesn’t seem to be angry with us. In fact, Ron has been extraordinarily cheerful of late”even at breakfast. And you know how he usually is first thing in the morning.”
“You’re right,” Harry said in wonder.
“Well of course I am,” Hermione smiled. “Aren’t I always?”
“Haha Miss Smarty. What I mean is that you’re right about Ron being all jolly in the mornings and finishing his homework without our, I mean your, help. But that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s spending time with Luna. Maybe he decided to take his lessons more seriously and crack the books.”
“And just where has he been cracking them?” asked Hermione with raised brow. “Not in the library. Not in the common room. When we have to study but don’t want to go to the library, where do we go?”
“The common room,” Harry responded, still not seeing her point.
“Exactly. We go to the common room - more specifically to the Gryffindor common room. What if Ron has been studying in the Ravenclaw common room? With Luna! Luna might be a bit vague and rather odd at times, but no one can deny that she is also smart.”
“Ron in the Ravenclaw common room. With Luna. Wow!”
“It’s the only explanation that makes any sense,” Hermione said, nodding emphatically.
“Why do you think he hasn’t said anything to us about it?” Harry wondered.
“Oh Harry, he’s probably embarrassed. After all, remember the fuss he put up about going with her to Hogsmeade alone in the first place?”
“Ummmm,” Harry pondered. He still seemed shocked to think of Ron with a girlfriend.
“Well, I need to run and get my books for class,” Hermione smiled. Leaning over, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek, only a couple of centimeters away from the corner of his mouth.
Harry almost fell off his chair.
Author’s Note: I appreciate all of the reviews”you have no idea how much! Thank you!