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.
WAKING UP HARRY
Chapter Five: A Twist in the Tale (er, “the Plan”), or Harry Fights Back
This was really too much. A fellow could not be expected to take this kind of thing sitting down.
The day had started off well enough; Harry had managed a full night’s sleep without any Voldemort-haunted dreams and he’d finished his Charms essay three full days before it was due. In fact today was Saturday and looked to be gloriously free of Snape, potions, or Snape’s dungeon. Life was good.
Then everything was ruined. Ruined!
Only five minutes ago, Hermione had waltzed down the stairs from the girls dormitory and pranced (pranced!) through the Gryffindor common room as bold as you please, wearing nothing but a thin strip of cloth around her hips and the most revealing top Harry had ever seen. And she’d been completely brazen about it”no shame whatsoever! Then, to make matter worse, she had sat down beside him on the couch and crossed her legs!
Well, all right, so maybe the skirt wasn’t all that skimpy; but still! That hem stopped a full two inches short of her knees, and when said knees were crossed . . . Harry shot a furtive sideways glance at Hermione and immediately blushed at the ocean (or so it seemed to Harry) of creamy flesh that greeted him.
‘Have her legs always been that long? No, it’s definitely the skirt. Too short for decency. Bad for the health, too; she’ll catch her death of cold in that thing. So what if it’s wool? Wool can only help so much. She can’t possibly stay warm with all that leg exposed,’ he thought critically.
The skirt, however, was nothing when weighed against that devilish knit top she’d squeezed herself into. Top? Ha! No decent top hugged a girl’s curves the way that one did. And wow, did Hermione have curves! That’s why Hogwarts students wore robes”how could a man concentrate that all that, that skin staring him in the eye? Stupid idea, really, allowing students to go robe-free on the weekends.
‘What on earth has gotten into her? She’s been driving me mental for weeks with the stroking, and the patting, and the grabbing, and the really-close-to-the-mouth cheek-kissing. Now this!’
Hermione, on the other hand, was having a wonderful time. Ostensibly reading a thick text, she was doing her own share of surreptitious peeking at Harry. Judging by the expressions running across his all-too-transparent face, Stage Three of the Plan was a rousing success so far. Time to take it a little bit further.
Putting down her book, she stretched languidly, reaching up with both arms and giving Harry a lovely view of two inches worth of bare stomach.
'Just kill me now,' he thought in resignation.
“Hey, Harry?”
“Huh?”
“I’m starving,” she said, lowering her arms and patting her now covered stomach. “Shall we go down to breakfast?” Slowly and gracefully she uncrossed those beautiful long legs and stood up, pausing to pick a piece of lint off her pale pink shirt.
Harry closed his eyes and wondered what he had ever done to deserve this . . . this torment.
“Harry, aren’t you coming?” Hermione linked one of her fingers in his and tugged gently.
“Uhh . . .” he managed. “Er . . . right. Sure.”
“Hey Hermione!” said Seamus for the top of the stairs. “You’re looking really good today.”
“Thanks,” she answered with a smile, tossing her head. “You look very nice yourself. That sweater matches your eyes perfectly.”
Seamus was stunned; was Hermione flirting? Then he beamed.
Harry scowled; was Hermione flirting with Seamus? Hermione never flirted!
Harry wanted to kill him.
And it was right then, right there in the Gryffindor common room, that Harry Potter finally woke up.
* * * * *
Harry sat in the Great Hall, face screwed up in concentration. How long had this been going on? Harry could pinpoint, almost to the minute, when Hermione had started behaving in a way guaranteed to drive a man mad: it was that Hogsmeade weekend four weeks ago.
At first, he had thought it was just his imagination, but no! She was definitely up to something. All that touching: patting his knee, rubbing his cheek with her (soft, peach-scented) cheek, bouncing his hand on her (glorious) thigh, grabbing at him constantly. Then, most recently, she had given him that kiss on his cheek, darn near nailing him right on the mouth. And now the clothes. Yes, he thought bitterly, that bloody provocative skirt and that bleeding shirt, clinging to her oh-so-gorgeous curves. Hermione was definitely up to something. But what?
Then, when Seamus had made that uncalled-for crack about how good Hermione looked, Harry had wanted to punch him. In fact, he’d wanted to do a lot more than that”he had wanted to hex the randy Irishman into the next dimension. But thinking about it again, he hadn’t felt too happy with Hermione either. She had definitely been flirting”with Seamus!
Just a few minutes ago, Harry had woken up to something very important; something that shocked him to the core. He didn’t like the thought of Hermione flirting with Seamus . . . or with Dean . . . or with Justin . . . or with . . . well, with anyone really. Except with him. Yes, if Hermione Granger was going to be doing any flirting at all, he wanted it to be with him”and only him! In fact, several ideas were now running through Harry’s mind, several plans. And each plan involved Hermione, Harry Potter, and no one else. Harry gave a small smile as he pictured those plans.
“Harry?” Neville’s voice interrupted Harry’s ruminations. “What’s the matter with you? Are you all right?”
Harry realised he had been just sitting there, staring and smiling at the same piece of toast for several minutes.
“Uh, nothing’s the matter Neville. Just a little tired,” and he quickly crammed the toast into his mouth to keep any other questions at bay.
‘Could this have all been coincidence? Hermione has always given great hugs”has she been behaving this way with everyone, or just with me? I want it to be just with me, but maybe she wants to let her hair down a little, perhaps change how people see her? I know that deep-down it’s always worried her that the guys think of her as Hermione, the smartest witch at Hogwarts, and not as Hermione, an eminently dateable girl.’ Harry ruminated on this idea for a moment. Absently plucking a rasher of bacon from the plate in front of him, Harry chewed thoughtfully.
Just then, Seamus plunked down into the seat directly across from them and “accidentally” placed his hand over Hermione’s as she reached to get a muffin from the basket in the middle of the table. Harry glared at the offending hand, wanting nothing more than to rip it from the Irish boy’s wrist.
“Whoops,” Hermione said lightly. Deliberately, she took hold of Seamus’ hand and placed the muffin into his open palm, closing his fingers over it. “Here, you take it,” she laughed, and plucked another one out of the basket for herself. Blithely ignoring the open-mouthed stares of Seamus, Neville, and Ginny, Hermione slowly (and sensuously, thought Harry) peeled the paper off the muffin and took a dainty bite, shooting a quick glance at Harry from under her lashes. This little display did not go unnoticed by Harry, who was watching her from behind his thick bangs. Nor did Harry miss her quasi-flirtation with a very flustered Neville a couple of minutes later, also accompanied by a peek at Harry.
‘She’s doing this deliberately,’ he thought in amazement. ‘That little devil! What is she up to? Could she be trying to make me jealous? No, she can’t be! And yet . . . the way she’s acting. Hmmmm. All this time I thought it was Ron she liked . . . maybe she’s jealous of Luna? But no, that can’t be it either. Hermione’s the one who pushed Ron to take Luna seriously that day at Hogsmeade and seemed pretty pleased that the two of them were together. And then two weeks ago in the common room, after that little tantrum of hers over the charms/transfiguration business . . .’
That night in the common room Hermione had thought Harry was going to kiss her; Harry had known he was. However, the following day it had been as if nothing had happened, and for the next couple of weeks things had returned to normal”well, more or less. There had still been the touching, and the grabbing, and the . . . Harry’s eyes narrowed. None of Hermione’s behaviour of late had been in character.
Knowing Hermione like he did, Harry knew that if she had decided to make him jealous, all her actions would be part of some grand scheme. Once she set her mind to something, his Hermione could plan strategies that would make Napoleon seem like a little boy playing with his toy soldiers. Much as the idea scared him, Harry knew there was only one way to find out if his hunch was correct.
‘Okay Miss Granger, turnabout’s fair play. I do believe a taste of your own medicine is in order here,’ Harry thought, smiling to himself.
Since today was Saturday and another Hogsmeade weekend, Harry decided to give Hermione a day to remember.
* * * * *
Hermione was confused. Harry was not acting like himself; no, not at all like himself. This was all very puzzling.
Harry and Hermione were having a butterbeer at their usual table in the Three Broomsticks, surrounded by laughing groups of Hogwarts students enjoying a day away from studying and lessons. Harry was having a wonderful time watching Hermione go through her usual grab-the-piece-of-hair, smooth-it-back-and-forth-between-her-fingers, twist-it-round-and-round-her-right-index-finger, and screw-up-her-face-in-concentration routine. The crease between her brows had been in evidence for quite some time as Hermione reviewed the day’s events so far.
First of all, when they left to go to Hogsmeade, Harry had put his hand on her lower back while they were climbing through the portrait hole. This in itself was not completely out of character; he had taken to doing this on occasion as a gentlemanly gesture. But this time things had felt different somehow. Then, after they had reached the corridor, rather than removing his hand right away, Harry had moved it to the side of her waist and lightly squeezed, following up on the squeeze with a light comment on how excited he was to be getting away from school for a while.
‘Honestly,’ Hermione chastised herself, ‘stop making a mountain out of a molehill! Harry’s just been under a lot of pressure lately; we all have. None of these bits and pieces means anything by themselves. This is just so typically Granger of you! Analysing the situation to death”picking every little action apart. Harry has not woken up yet. He’s a boy after all and incapable of subtlety. If he did realise what you were trying to do with The Plan, he’d act in one of two ways: if he liked you back he’d find some way to show you; if he didn’t like you as more than a friend, he’d probably start avoiding you. After all, my dear, you have been just a tad obvious over the last few weeks.’ This was definitely Sensible Hermione, who at that point let out a rather unladylike snort of laughter.
“Hermione?”
“Huh, what?” was the intelligent response.
“What’s so funny?”
“Funny?”
“Yeah, funny. You just snorted. You know, the kind of loud, laughing-type of snort,” Harry grinned.
“Rubbish, Harry. I don’t snort,” replied Hermione indignantly.
Harry smiled into his butterbeer and fell silent.
Hermione regarded him askance for a moment, lapsing back into thought when he didn’t offer any further argument. The crease was back as bickering broke out once again between Sensible Hermione and Hermione-in-Love.
‘All right, I suppose the whole portrait hole-helping and corridor waist-squeezing could be a coincidence,’ Hermione-in-Love pointed out reasonably. ‘But what about all that stuff at Honeydukes? Explain that away, Missy!’
‘Uh . . . well, uh . . .’ Sensible Hermione had to admit that the entire Honeydukes episode was very suspicious--very suspicious indeed.
Hermione remembered the entire episode in detail.
After the waist-squeezing in the corridor of Hogwarts, nothing untoward had happened until the two friends reached the village. As they strolled down the main street of Hogsmeade, Harry suggested starting off their visit with a quick nip into Honeydukes sweet shop. Hermione was agreeable; the day was chilly and she was eager to warm up.
The streets of Hogsmeade bustled with students, making walking difficult. As Harry and Hermione waited for the group ahead of them to move, Harry put his hand on the back of her neck and began absently playing with her hair, running his fingers through the long strands. Hermione froze, but then the group ahead moved and Harry dropped his hand.
After a few minutes, they finally managed to get inside Honeydukes. Harry made a beeline for the chocolate section”Hermione at his heels. A small saucer with a sign saying “free samples” was placed in front of a large display of chocolate. Harry selected one and bit it in half.
“Ummmmm, delicious,” he said, rolling the chocolate around his mouth and closing his eyes in ecstasy. “Here, Hermione. You’ve got to try this.”
And before Hermione could react, he was pressing the chocolate against her mouth. Without thinking, she obediently opened up and Harry popped the chocolate in, withdrawing so slowly that Hermione’s lips inadvertently closed around his fingers.
Hermione gave a started squeak; Harry smiled, his green eyes brilliant. “Isn’t it amazing?” he asked, pulling his hand away.
“Yes,” she squeaked again, wide-eyed. “Amazing.”
Coming back to the present, Hermione finally dropped the piece of hair she had been worrying and looked directly at Harry. He met her eyes innocently.
“So, what do you want to do next?” he inquired with a grin. “I’d like to stop off at Dervish and Banges, or maybe Zonkos, for a bit.”
“There’s a surprise,” Hermione noted dryly. That grin!
“Right then, shall we go?” Draining the last few drops from his mug, Harry pulled his chair back, brushing against her as he stood up, still grinning at her in that disconcerting way.
Flustered, Hermione fumbled with the heavy parcels she was attempting to gather up, dropping several on the floor.
“Oh bother!” she said in irritation.
Harry chuckled and bent to help her. When Hermione reached for the last parcel, Harry’s hand closed over hers. She looked up, startled, into his emerald gaze.
Time stood still. Harry’s face was so close to hers that Hermione could feel his warm breath and smell the scent that was so distinctly Harry. A mixture of grass, fresh air, and citrus”probably the soap he used”it was intoxicating. Once again her heart was pounding in her ears.
Harry was experiencing the same sensation of utter bliss he had felt that night in the common room. However, this time they were not alone, and with a start he recalled their surroundings. Clearing his throat, he managed a hoarse, “here, let me,” and gently extracted the parcel from Hermione’s limp fingers.
Bemused, the two teens left. Utterly absorbed in their own thoughts, they were unaware of the excited chatter that broke out in the pub after their rather interesting “display.”
The rest of the afternoon was spent quietly browsing the shops of Hogsmeade until the looming twilight signaled that it was time to go.
Making their way back to the castle, both Harry and Hermione were too preoccupied to notice the black clouds rolling in until a large clap of thunder, quickly followed by a flash of lightening, made them jump.
“Oh wow,” said Harry with a quick look at the sky. “We’re not going to make it back to Hogwarts in time.”
“We just passed the Shrieking Shack a minute ago,” Hermione noted. “Maybe we should . . . Ahhh,” she squealed as the first cold drops of rain splashed on her exposed head.
“C’mon, let’s get inside before we get soaked,” Harry said. Clutching his parcels tightly to his body with one hand, he snatched up Hermione’s with the other and began pulling her back towards the Shrieking Shack.
By the time they made the door, the skies had opened and the rain was coming down in frozen sheets.
“Alohamora,” gasped out Hermione. The door flew open and they scurried inside. Walking over to the dirty table in the corner of the room, Harry deposited his parcels on the surface and then quickly turned to take Hermione’s burden from her just as she reached forward to heave them onto the table. He ended up getting a load of parcels (containing several thick books) rammed forcefully into his stomach, almost knocking him over.
“Offfff,” he grunted.
“Oh, Harry. I’m so sorry,” Hermione burst out apologetically, grabbing the offending packages and throwing them hurriedly aside. “Are you all right?” she asked, putting one hand around his waist and rubbing his stomach with the other.
Harry stared down at the small gloved hand circling his tummy. “Uhh . . . erm . . .”
“I really hit you hard,” she exclaimed. “Let me see.” With that, she pushed him onto a nearby chair, knelt at his feet, and began tugging at his shirt.
“Oh, really, Hermione . . . it’s fine . . . um . . .” he stuttered, embarrassed and reaching out to stop her.
“Nonsense,” she said briskly. “Don’t be silly, Harry. It’s just me,” she chastised him, slapping his hands out of the way.
Harry watched in fascination as two small, determined hands yanked his shirt out of his pants.
“Look how red that is,” Hermione exclaimed in horror, pointing to his bare abdomen.
Harry looked. His stomach was a bit red but no worse that he’d experienced before. Being Seeker on the Griffindor quidditch team had resulted in far worse injuries. Frankly he was far more concerned with the effect that close proximity to Hermione was having on his ability to breath.
“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry!” she repeated. She ripped off her gloves and pressed one hand to the injured skin, rubbing it gently. Harry gasped and jumped.
“Ooooo, that hurt, didn’t it?” she asked with concern; her hand remained frozen on his bare flesh as she peered intently at his stomach.
Silence.
Harry could feel Hermione’s skin burning into his. They were so close that her hair brushed his chin and her warm breath tickled his chest.
“Harry?” Worried chocolate-brown eyes rose up to meet his. “Are you all ri. . . ?” Hermione’s voice faded away when she saw the expression on Harry’s face. He looked”Hermione didn’t know how to describe what she saw there.
“H . . . Harry?” She asked uncertainly.
Author’s Note: All right, all right, I know! *ducks rocks and blows from angry readers* I REALLY did not want to leave you with a cliffie, but . . . I will update soon.
Once again, thank you so much to all of you who have reviewed thus far! I appreciate it immensely!