Chapter Eighteen: Expect the Unexpected
Hermione:
I’m not sure how to answer your letter, to be honest. I am not even sure what I am supposed to feel. Mixed emotions plague my mind, and I have no real guidance in this. I don’t know whether I’m right or wrong anymore.
Well, that is a start, I suppose. Your letter brought forth several points I knew not of, and they make perfect sense for your argument. I thought that you were in love with Ron, sweetheart, as he was so obviously with you. You must have been sending mixed signals, because the boy was truly under the illusion that you loved him. Please don’t say that you did love him, because we both know that is not true. You may have felt towards him as a friend, maybe even as a brother, but never in the way he thought.
And I accept that. It is okay that you didn’t quite love him; that you became confused. At your age it is easy to mistake feelings. It is, however, justified that I was angry at you for what you did. Surely you could have noticed that you didn’t love him before things got so serious?
These are things we cannot sort out in letters, I’m afraid. These are the things that need deep explaining, and perhaps they are the sort that you do not want to write.
I never assumed your relationship with Harry was based on lust, of all things. What I thought”and forgive me for believing this”was that there was a slight chance that you had mistaken a physical attraction for something deeper. Hormones in a seventeen-year-old’s body are still going a bit wild, and you must admit there could have been a possibility.
What I should have noticed, however, was that that possibility disappeared when you were involved. I was such a fool, Hermione, and I beg you to forgive me for that. I know you are responsible and smart, and that you would have never let yourself get so carried away. You did what you did for a good reason.
You are completely right in saying that you moved too fast, however. That is, truly, what made me feel so angry at you. It is the fact that you didn’t take time to soften the impact on your lives that makes me feel that you were irresponsible. I expected much better of you. And of course it took you some time to get used to each other. Already you have broken past the initial awkwardness, and I am proud of you for that. It takes a lot of character to do so in such a short time. I daresay you still aren’t completely used to your situation. There are things about one another that you two have no idea of, and only time will help you there.
Praise aside, Hermione…I am afraid your father and I are not ready to accept your relationship. It is nothing personal…merely that we need some time to get used to the idea. We are so worried for you, my dear, and your comment about being willing to die for him doesn’t help our nerves at all. It is noble…but not at all what we want to hear from you…what we need to hear, I mean. You may think that you are crucial, honey, but do keep in mind that things sometimes aren’t what they seem. You may be right, and I wish you all the triumph in the world if that is so, but you may be wrong…at which I would never forgive myself for not interfering. I assure you, the only reason I haven’t is because, despite all that has happened, I”we”still trust and love you.
Please, take things slowly. And I mean that, not with Harry”that is your decision alone”but regarding your father and I. We need time, Hermione. We have to mull things over. I promise you that if you are ever in any need we will help you in every way we can, but…we need some time to accept this. I am sorry.
I am afraid for you, Hermione. Things are becoming more and more complicated as I write. The Muggle world is at war”Scotland and Germany, that is”and I fear it will soon spread until we have a World War in our hands. I suspect that, deep down, it is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that is behind this. Dumbledore is aware, though, so we mustn’t fret. He is a brilliant man, and I am sure he already is at work to solve what is happening.
It is all a matter of time, I suppose.
Oh, please, Hermione…promise me you will take care and watch yourself. Please, don’t do something as drastic for Harry as dying for him. Please, think before you act…I love you. We”your father and I”both do. We don’t want to lose you. Do remember that he who strives to touch a star often stumbles upon a single straw. Be careful.
And, I think you ought to know this…Dumbledore will be moving us from our residence in two or three weeks. Living in Scotland isn’t quite as safe as it once was. We shall be moving to another location”I haven’t been told where”in which we will be perfectly safe, or so I am assured.
I probably shouldn’t have written that. This isn’t safe to owl now, is it? I think I’ll talk to one of Dumbledore’s lot to see if they can send it to you. They have safer methods, do they not?
Oh, I think that is them now. Someone’s entering through the front door. Odd people…didn’t they say they would not come until the day of our move? And they know better than to just come in through the front door. Honestly, anyone could see them. They always wear those odd robes, and one even has pink hair!
Well, take care, darling. I love you.
Write back, and send your answer with…well, use the Order’s method. We really can’t risk anyone reading all this, can we?
Lots of love,
Your mother
1:20a.m., Saturday morning, Small house bordering Wales and England
“I must be mishearing things,” Voldemort said silkily, eyes narrowed, bright with anger. Bellatrix, Lucius, and Mulciber remained stiffly kneeling, heads bowed, waiting for his next words with a feel of apprehension. Voldemort circled them as he spoke, “I cannot comprehend why, when you had Potter and his Mudblood girlfriend at your grasp, you turned away.”
His voice, barely above a hiss, seemed much more chilling than a full-blown yell. But they hadn’t quite expected that. The Dark Lord remained composed until the last moment, and even then he would transfer his anger by delivering a fatal curse.
“Should one of you fail to explain, I will be forced to take more…drastic action,” he said softly, his fingers encircling themselves around the handle of his wand as he stopped before them, scarlet eyes flashing expectantly.
Bellatrix raised her head, doing her best to face her Master with no trace of fear in her eyes, “Master, it was all my doing. I convinced Mulciber and Lucius to do as I said.”
Voldemort nodded silently, waving his hand impatiently as a sign for her to continue. Bellatrix spoke again, inexplicable relief flooding her, “I thought it would be cowardly to take advantage of the situation in such a way. Better to use cleverness as a means to lure them to us. It was pure chance, my lord. I refuse to be glorious in your presence by a casualty.”
Voldemort surveyed her with a look of mingled anger and understanding. He smirked, “Pride. That is what kept you from doing my bidding? Your filthy, unimportant pride?”
Bellatrix bowed her head again, this time sure she shouldn’t answer Voldemort. If she argued, she would surely find herself in more trouble than she already was.
“Fool!” Voldemort hissed, flicking his hand at her. In a second, she was twitching on the floor, writhing, under the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Pain flooded through her body…under her skin…in her bones…it flowed through her bloodstream at an alarming rate. She cried out, tears leaking out of her eyes as she struggled to bring herself up to her knees, at the least. Her arms and legs bent in odd angles; her body twisting in unnatural spasms as she felt herself grow numb. She became silent, suddenly, wishing no more than to die. To feel no more pain, to seize being exposed to people as cruel as Voldemort…to move to an unknown bliss of nothingness.
Then the pain stopped. She fell facedown on the ground, her arms barely able to keep her face from colliding with the dull, wooden floor. Her breathing was ragged, forced, and she felt her nose bleeding. Damn. How long had she been held under the curse?
“Long enough for you to comprehend that the Dark Lord’s bidding is your priority, Bella,” Voldemort said, a hint of scorn in his voice, “Not your pride, or any other human foolishness you care to feel.”
Bellatrix remained gasping on the floor, breathing through her mouth as she held her sleeve to her nose to stop the bleeding. She could barely feel her legs yet, and her arms were not much better. She fumbled for her wand, pointing it to her nose and muttering a spell to heal it. Nothing happened. Apparently, her body was still too weak perform magic. Brilliant.
Voldemort smiled cruelly at her attempt, but made no comment. He turned instead to Malfoy and Mulciber, both of whom were watching Bellatrix struggle with expressions of mingled scorn, relief, and guilt, “As for you both, that should serve as reminder enough. I shall move on to another problem that has recently come to my attention. You are aware, of course, that Severus is indeed a traitor to the Dark Lord. He has been serving Dumbledore as a spy for all these years, somehow managing to keep it from me. Clearly, he is a skilled Occlumens. This is simple. Should you come across him as you carry out my orders, do not kill him. Bring him to me. I daresay he and Lord Voldemort ought to have a small chat before his death.”
They nodded, and he continued speaking, “Now, there is a small detour you must take before you continue your initial mission of eliminating the Order members. It appears that the order is aware of our interference in the war between those filthy Muggles. Although that would give us an excuse to attack them, I believe we ought to lure them to us, as Bella kindly supplied, with cleverness,” he glanced over his back at Bellatrix and smirked, seeing her still twitching on the floor. He turned to Malfoy and Mulciber again.
“It is quite simple. I believe it should not take more than a few hours. They are only Muggles, after all,” he smiled as their expressions took on a maniacal gleam, “Not torture, Malfoy. There will be time for that soon. They are merely…bait. A means to lure the Muggle-loving Dumbledore to us.”
He paused, turning and watching as Bellatrix struggled to perform a proper healing charm. With a look of annoyance, he flicked his wand at her, muttering under his breath. As her nose stopped bleeding, she looked up at him in shock, pocketing her wand and furrowing her brow. He merely narrowed his eyes, surveying her with a disgusted look, “You are pathetic, Bella. You ought to be grateful this is the only punishment you are receiving for your dim-witted actions.”
Bellatrix nodded quickly, scrambling to the hem of Voldemort’s robes and kissing them, “Yes, my Lord.”
“Now, listen closely,” Voldemort said, gesturing for her to move beside Malfoy and Mulciber. She did so quickly, shrinking to her knees beside them and looking up at her Master expectantly. He smiled coldly, the simple gesture making him look all the more chilling. His scarlet eyes seemed brighter than ever, tainted by his never-wavering hate and disdain for anything that went against his beliefs. As he looked down upon them, his eyes slits, they all suppressed shivers, for they could never become used to the way those eyes seemed to bore into theirs, penetrating deep inside the confines of the mind and finding things they themselves had long forgotten.
“Very well. As I have said, the task is completely simple. I trust you will not fail again…”
9:07a.m., Friday, March 22nd, Gryffindor Common Room
“Harry?”
Her delicate voice roused him from his sleep. Her breath was soft as she whispered in his ear, gently burying her hand in his hair and stroking it. He mumbled, half asleep, and rolled over in the couch, his back to her. He could feel her gaze on him, and he could almost see her lips pursed, as if in annoyance, contradicted by the gleam in her eyes. He felt, as if in a dream, as she gently leaned over him and kissed his neck, murmuring for him to get up. He groaned, not quite sure if it was out of negligence to get up or out of pleasure at her warm kisses, and turned over, his lips meeting hers abruptly. She smirked, pressing her lips closer to his momentarily, before pulling away, hands on her hips.
“Come on, then, Harry. I brought some toast to eat before…well, before we leave,” she said briskly, her voice taking on an uncertain note as she said the last words. The day to leave had come so fast, and she was both excited and worried because of that.
Harry rubbed his eyes, reaching for his glasses on the couch and sliding an open book off his chest, “Bugger…must have fallen asleep here,” he muttered, looking around, “See where studying gets me?” he added, smiling weakly as his eyes grew accustomed to the lighting.
Hermione shrugged, “The fact that it’s the Easter holidays doesn’t mean school is over,” she said, a note of mild sternness creeping to her voice, “N.E.W.Ts are coming up soon, and I don’t want either of us to fail!”
Harry nodded, wearily, having heard this argument over the past two weeks more times than he’d like to count. With most of their questions regarding all that had happened answered, they had been able to lead a relatively normal life at Hogwarts, meaning they could devote more attentions to their studies, and had less to worry about, than before. The only thing that still bothered them”‘them’ meaning Hermione, because Harry was mostly fine with it”was that Ron still kept his distance from them at all times, except for inevitable things. It had been a vast improvement when, the day before, he had asked Harry for a quill before a Transfigurations exam (true, he asked around six people before Harry, but it was still a step up, in Hermione’s eyes). She wasn’t pushing him to talk to them these days, though Harry could see the pain in her eyes whenever he averted his gaze from them. He, too, felt bad that their friendship had ended in such a nasty way”assuming it had ended. Had it? It was so hard to tell now…so hard to believe it really was over, just like that”but he understood Ron’s reaction, and respected it.
They had also been thinking a lot about their trip to Ireland, having decided with Dumbledore that Easter was the best time to go there. There was bound to be a lot of people out on the streets, traveling, visiting their relatives and such, which meant they would blend in. They would still use concealment charms, though, for safety; you could never be too sure as to whether the person next to you was a Death Eater in disguise or not, these days.
Harry stood up, stretched, and turned to look at Hermione expectantly. She smiled, “Have you packed?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Err…no,” Harry said, giving her an apologetic look, “I’ll just do it now. I won’t take long.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, “Yes, it’s fine. I’ll wait here.”
Harry nodded and walked away in the direction of the boy’s dormitories, while Hermione laid down on the couch where he had been and closed her eyes. She turned her face, her nose grazing the smooth fabric, inhaling the subtle scent of him that still lingered. Her mouth curling into a smile, she remembered the way he’d looked the night before, trying to concentrate on the book. The way his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and his chin began to drift towards his chest before he fell asleep completely, book forgotten, open on his lap. She had loved watching it happen, glancing up between pages, her gaze remaining on him tenderly as she watched him doze off.
And when she did finally become to tired to keep reading, she had watched him from her corner of the couch, smiling, her eyes half closed. She’d gotten up, taken off his glasses and placed them on top of the book, before kissing his forehead gently and making her way groggily to her dormitory.
He’d really looked much too peaceful and happy to wake up.
Somewhere along her muses, she lost herself in his smell, however vague it was. Her eyes flickered closed, and she curled her legs beneath her, holding her hands crossed over her chest. A contented smile on her lips, she stopped thinking and slept peacefully, for the first time in quite a while. No thoughts invaded her mind…there was nothing, nothing that could surpass this blissful feeling of untroubled sleep. Odd, really, that today, of all days, she could finally relax.
Harry descended the stairs, a small bag slung over his shoulder. He had washed his face, put on some clean clothes, and managed to wake himself up completely. He was quite surprised when he saw Hermione sleeping soundly on the couch. The way the sunlight illuminated her made her look like an angel, with her pearly, silky skin and rosy lips. The serene look on her face…
It took Harry a few moments to realize that he’d never seen such an expression in Hermione’s face. Never.
He strode towards her, sitting down beside her. He caught sight of the stack of toast she had brought, wrapped neatly in some napkins, and took it into his hands. He let his gaze linger on her freely, taking in every detail of her appearance…every wave of her hair, her parted lips, the delicate curves of her body. He watched her for a long time, before he remembered the stack of toast in his hands. He unwrapped it, not really caring about what he was doing, and took a bite out of one.
He barely noticed when Hermione woke up, her eyes darting to him before she sat up, “Mmmf…I think this couch has some charm casted on it,” she commented, taking a slice of toast, “I barely lied down, and I was already asleep. How long were you up there?”
“Half an hour, at the most. I had to change,” Harry said, leaning forward to kiss her lips quickly before they continued to eat, “But you got up early, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I went down to breakfast around seven, returned some books to the library, and I talked briefly with Dumbledore before coming up here to do some early studying.”
Harry shook his head, “You really have to relax about your studying, Hermione. Don’t overdo it.”
“I’m not. Trust me, Harry, I know what I can take. Third year”that’s overdoing it. This…this is necessary. N.E.W.Ts are very important.”
“Thank Merlin we’re going off to Ireland today. You won’t be studying there, will you?”
Hermione shrugged, “No. That won’t take too long, anyway. We could be here by this afternoon, you know.”
“Ah, but Moody never does things the quick way,” Harry said, smirking, “We could he here by this evening, but I’ll bet we won’t be back for a few days.”
“Nonsense. He knows we have schoolwork to do. And he probably has other things to do,” Hermione said, a mildly shocked expression on her face. She took another bite of toast, chewing quietly, and looked up at Harry with a worried expression, “Oh, you don’t really think he’d do that, do you, Harry?” she asked, “I mean, we really do have to study…”
Harry sighed, shaking his head and turning to her. He set his piece of toast on his lap and extended his hand to her chin, tilting it up so she was looking into his eyes. With a small grin, he said, “You must relax. Do you hear me, Hermione? No books. No schoolwork. No more talk about that.”
”But Harry”“
Harry held a finger to her lips, “Clear your head. Don’t think.”
“I can’t do that,” Hermione laughed, shaking her head. After a moment, however, a sly smile spread across her lips, “But…I can think of something that can.”
Harry grinned, already knowing what she was going to say, “And that is?”
Hermione raised an eyebrow, “Like you don’t know,” she whispered, leaning forward and kissing his lips tenderly. As they wrapped their arms around each other, their kiss took on a more passionate turn, any innocence it might have had before gone. Harry moved his right hand to cup the back of Hermione’s neck, pulling her even closer towards him, while she expertly moved her hands under his shirt, exploring the contours of his body. His free hand moved from her waist, across her back, and slowly under her shirt, a shiver going down his spine as his hand came in contact with her soft, warm skin. He gently leaned forward, so that they lied down on the couch, Hermione beneath him. As he did so, she uncrossed her legs from beneath her and twined them with his, sending a whirlwind of sensations through his body. As his hand slowly traced her skin, making its way up to her chest, she moaned softly, moving a hand up to his hair and another to wrap around him.
Needless to say, Hermione’s mind was more than clear. She didn’t recognize anything other than the person that was now kissing her heatedly, his touch on her skin both passionate and tender. Nothing else seemed more right than this…nothing in the world. No happiness in the world could surpass this feeling…the electricity going through her body…the sensations that his lips on hers provoked…the intense emotions that ruled her body and mind…
She didn’t really notice when she slipped off her shirt, with the help of Harry. Or when she unbuttoned his and threw it in a heap on the floor. Or when Harry began kissing down her neck, under her chin and even lower…lower than he would have normally, with her shirt on.
It was as if they really had stopped thinking.
It all happened at once. She suddenly noticed how her skirt had ridden up to her hips, and the mildly confused expression on Harry’s face as he noted that she had stopped moving her hands. She suddenly realized they were in the Common Room, and how lucky they had been that no one had barged in on them. And most of all, she suddenly realized the owl perched on the windowsill, a fine lavender envelope tied to its leg.
She felt the color rising to her cheeks. What Harry must think of her for doing this in both broad daylight and a public”very public”place! She released him and covered her face with her hands for a moment, before sliding off the couch and quietly slipping her shirt on. As she finished buttoning it, she hurried to untie the letter from no other than her mother from the owl’s leg.
Harry remained on the couch, as if frozen in place, silently replaying what had just transpired. Hermione had let him take off her shirt. She’d taken his shirt off.
Wait, what?
They’d almost really made love? They’d never taken off their clothes”other than their robes”while kissing. Never. And once he thought about it, their snogging hadn’t ever been so fiery…passionate. So hungry for the other’s touch. So completely and utterly…mind-blowing. He really had barely thought, and obviously, the same had happened to Hermione. They had managed to get so caught up in each other, that they got further than they ever had”and clearly, further than Hermione would have wanted to.
Bugger.
She’s upset. The look she had before she covered her eyes…Merlin, what did we do? I thought she was okay with all of it…she was, after all, the one who began unbuttoning her blouse.
But maybe she just got caught up. In her better judgment she wouldn’t have done that.
Now what do I do? I don’t want her to feel bad about this.
As Harry finished buttoning up his shirt, Hermione turned, holding a letter in fancy stationary in her hand, face streaked with tears. She sniffed quietly, walking towards him and handing him the letter to read. Harry’s eyes zoomed thorough the letter in a matter of minutes, his brow creasing as he read the last bit.
“She sent this by owl.”
Hermione sat down on a chair, wiping away her tears, “I know.”
“She said she’d send it by Order method.”
“Yes…” Hermione mumbled, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“But she sent it by owl. Even when she said that someone from the Order was entering the house as she wrote this,” Harry insisted, frowning.
“Maybe they said it was okay to owl.”
“Maybe. But what if Voldemort’s followers knew about their move? That wouldn’t be safe. The Order wouldn’t have said it was fine to send by owl.”
Hermione finally met his eyes, a stubborn look on her face, “Maybe it was just dad coming from work and she decided to send it by owl, since she didn’t know when the Order would be there,” she hissed, eyes narrowing.
“Wouldn’t she have fixed it in the letter?”
Hermione’s nostrils flared, “What are you implying? That my mum has somehow been attacked, when Order members are patrolling by the house day and night?” she asked scornfully, fists clenching. Harry wasn’t sure why she appeared to be so angry, but he had a fleeting suspicion she was taking out all her mingled emotions on him.
So he nodded, conceding her this argument and deciding to leave his suspicions for a time when she was less stressed, “Oh, yeah…you’re right.”
“Do you think our relationship is based on lust?”
Harry’s head shot up, eyes wide, “What?” he sputtered, noting that her expression was nonchalant, though worried, as though they were discussing the possibility of a storm.
“You heard me.”
Harry realized she wasn’t joking. She really was worried about this, “Hermione, of course not. You know I love you…I always have. From the first day I saw you on the train, seven years ago, I felt something different, though I didn’t quite recognize it at the time. I knew you were…different, somehow. I admire you…the way you are. The way you stand up for what you believe in, the way you care for people despite the way they usually act…the way you have always been there for me, and have supported me in a way Ron was never able to. With you I feel like I can say anything, like there’s no secrets between us…I trust you, like I have never trusted anyone. I love the way you are always so rational, always full of answers, always dependable, and always willing to help anyone. My love for you runs deeper than anything else in this world, Hermione, and don’t ever forget that. I will always love you, as I do now, as I always have.”
Hermione seemed to consider this. Her eyes, which had been narrowed and guarded while Harry spoke, seemed to lose their hardness. The edges softened as tears surfaced, her expression changing to reveal a painfully weak side of her. She shook her head, wiping the tears away again, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you that. I know it isn’t, and I know you love me. This is so…frustrating!”
Harry resisted the urge to take her into his arms, knowing that she might not want to, given what had just happened, “Your mum admitted it wasn’t, didn’t she? Why are you asking me that?”
Hermione shrugged, inclining her head forward to gaze at her knees instead of Harry, “I don’t know. I guess I just…I got carried away there, and then I read my mum’s letter…and I felt like…like maybe she was right after all. I know she isn’t, but it was just what came to my mind then…”
“Of course she isn’t. I love you, Hermione. I really don’t know how else to reassure you about this. It’s the truth,” Harry said quietly, “I see you in a way that is much beyond lust, Hermione, and I know you see me the same way, as well. Otherwise, this never would have worked out from the start, believe me. I don’t think you would have put up with me if you didn’t feel something deep.”
Hermione looked up at him slowly, giving him a weak smile, “Oh, Harry…I couldn’t think of anything better than being with you…don’t say it as if were a burden,” she whispered, sliding off the chair and walking towards him. She knelt before him, pulling him into a tight hug, her head resting on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.
Odd, how time could go so fast. Minutes ago they had been kissing like there was no tomorrow, and now they were hugging, comforting each other with their presence.
As Hermione pulled away, she sighed, “Come on, then. We’re to meet with them out on the Grounds.”
Harry frowned, “We’re not using Floo powder?”
Hermione shook her head, frowning, “No, and we can’t Apparate, either. I don’t know how they plan on getting us there, really.”
“Looks like we’ll be traveling for a few days, then.”
“I hope not,” said Hermione, a dark look on her face, “It’s not safe at all. And I have to study.”
Harry laughed. Odd, how things were so awkward between them in some aspects, and they could carry on a normal conversation like nothing was happening. Odd, how she could detach herself from the things that she wanted to keep hidden, and managed to talk normally, like no time had passed since they had been eating toast.
Odd. Good, some might say, because they would eventually learn to ignore those silly things. But that could also make things more difficult. How were they going to get past their problems if they couldn’t even talk about them?
10:15 a.m., Friday morning, The Entrance Hall
“What did you do with the bags?” Harry asked suddenly, frowning and turning to Hermione with a bemused expression.
She smirked, “I shrunk them. I don’t think anyone needs to know we’re leaving just yet. And besides, they’re easier to carry that way,” she said smugly, tapping a pocket in her robes, where two small little lumps laid.
“Oh,” Harry said, nodding and craning his head to look around, “Look, there’s Dumbledore,” he whispered, walking towards the old man quickly. Hermione followed without comment, arms crossed as she walked slowly behind him.
“Ah, yes, I have been waiting for you,” Dumbledore said as they reached him. He smiled kindly, nodding, and leant forward, “They are waiting out by the gates. Couldn’t risk bringing them inside, after all. Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Splendid. You should be there very soon. The matter should not take long, therefore your return might be as quick as tomorrow,” he beamed at them, before lowering his voice slightly, “You must be careful. Take care of each other and always stay within your Guard’s line of vision. Terrible things can happen in the blink of an eye, and in these times…” he said, his voice trailing away, as if he thought better of what he had been about to say.
There was a moment of silence, before Dumbledore clapped his hands and smiled again, “Well, then, off you go! I will see you when you get back. If any problems should arise, Alastor will know how to contact me,” they nodded quietly, watching as Dumbledore disappeared up the Grand Staircase. Harry glanced sideways at Hermione, who gave him a weak smile as she turned towards the doors. He returned it with a smile of his own, however half-hearted it as, and followed her outside.
It was a beautiful day; the sun blazing, clear sky, the grass a bright green. The lake’s waters looked as serene as ever, small ripples traveling across its surface. They walked in silence along the path towards the gates, Hermione looking somewhere in front of her feet and Harry glancing uneasily at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, stopping abruptly. Her voice was low and hushed, and Harry knew she had been dwelling non-stop about what had happened.
He sighed, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Hermione.”
“I am overreacting over nothing,” she said stubbornly, “And I’m sorry about that.”
“If we hadn’t stopped…if we’d…would that have been what you wanted?” Harry asked quietly, “That’s all I need to know.”
Hermione looked up at him, mildly shocked. She seemed to consider his words, “I…I don’t know. I didn’t think about anything right then. I suppose my body…but…I don’t know what I want,” she said slowly, sighing.
Harry nodded, “That’s fine, then. Don’t worry. For now, we’ll just stop whenever things get too carried away, like we always have.”
“Yes…I think that’s best,” she said quietly, smiling weakly.
They walked in silence the rest of the way, holding hands, each lost in their thoughts. They gazed absentmindedly at the grass, not really seeing it, not really seeing anything, so lost in their worries. Lost in their wishes that things weren’t so complicated all the time, that things could just be normal, like they always were between them.
Had they ever been normal, though?
Neither could answer that question.
A/N: This chapter is really more of a filler, I suppose, until I get their trip sorted. Still, the plot kind of shows…doesn’t it? =) Oh, and that line that said: "He who strives to touch a star often stumbles upon a single straw" is straight from the movie A Knight's Tale. Not mine. So, till the next!