Chapter 21Notes:The previous chapter has been slightly edited to be more canon-compliant.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text"Awww, how cute! Who do you think they are from?"
"Hm... Maybe from a teacher?"
"From a teacher? You're something, Kellah! What kind of teacher would give flowers to a student?"
"Why not? For super-outstanding cramming, for example..."
"Well, yeah... That's probably it."
"Oh, shut up, Lavender!"
"I think they're violets? These pink flowers look very similar..."
"Pfft... as if anyone would dare give her violets! More like petunias..."
"What a mean girl you are, Fay!"
"...or maybe geraniums!"*
"But I still think they're violets. Look at those fancy petals..."
"What if they really are from a boy? Who does she hang out with all the time?"
"Harry Potter and that lanky red-haired guy..."
"Weasley?"
"Yes, him. Or maybe it was Longbottom!"
"What? That porky little coward? He'd never dare! Besides, I think he's a bit dense."
"He's not dense! And he's not a coward! Neville's just shy and not as cocky as the other boys! And he likes flowers. He always answers correctly in Herbology..."
"Ugh, Kellah's in love with Longbottom!"
"Hey! I am not...!"
"Oh, look! There's a card!"
"Should we...?"
"Are you crazy?! You shouldn't read other people's letters!"
"Oh, shush! She won't even know! Aren't you girls curious anyway?"
"Of course, but..."
"Lavender, come on! Put it back!"
"Make me!"
"Give it to me!"
"Never ever!"
"You little brat!"
"And you're such a buzzkill!"
"Hey!.."
"What's going on?" Hermione, sleepy and disheveled, propped herself up on her elbows, trying to figure out why there was such a commotion on a Sunday morning and why there were four laughing, bustling classmates in their pyjamas crowded around her bed.
"Oh! Hermione! You're awake! We thought..." Lavender bit her tongue, realizing that they had been caught red-handed. She quickly hid something behind her back and smiled awkwardly at Hermione, who was still blinking drowsily, trying to shake off the last of her drowsiness and get into the swing of things.
While Hermione looked from one girl to the other, they continued to giggle stupidly, exchanging glances at each other, as if they had witnessed something very funny, something that she alone was not privy to.
"Uh... did I miss something?" She involuntarily frowned, internally tensing up.
This was too much like her old school. Every instinct in her body was screaming that she had somehow, even without doing anything, managed to become the center of some kind of shady fun she had no idea about, and now she would have to deal with the consequences one way or another.
"Look!" Parvati suddenly jumped up from her seat and thrust a flowerpot with a small bouquet of pink, recently bloomed violets under the slightly stunned Hermione's nose. "Someone sent you flowers! Aren't they lovely?"
"There's even a note! Here!" Lavender kept up with her bestie, forcibly shoving the envelope into Hermione's hands.
"Come on! Read it!"
"We're dying to know who it's from!"
Without giving her time to blink and come to her senses, the Gryffindor second-years descended on Hermione from all four sides, like a flock of pigeons after a handful of millet in Trafalgar Square. Squealing excitedly, they plopped down on her bed without asking, forcing the girl to move up to the very headboard, and soon there was not a centimeter of free space left on the mattress. Judging by their faces, shining with barely restrained curiosity and excitement, there was no chance that Hermione would be allowed to read her message in private. Any attempt to escape at this moment would be regarded as a provocation, and would only feed the already wild imagination of this gang of idle school gossips.
"Oh, Lord…"
Swallowing through a suddenly dry throat, Hermione finally made up her mind. With fingers trembling with excitement, she opened the plain envelope of thick yellowish parchment and pulled out an equally plain rectangular card.
Even though she was 99.99% sure she knew who it was from, her heart still skipped a beat, and then immediately started beating at triple speed as her eyes slid over the crooked lines of familiar, sloppy handwriting:
Dear Hermione,
Good morning! I hope you are in a good mood. The weather is wonderful today! I would really like to invite you for a walk around the lake after breakfast. It would be great to finally get some fresh air and spend time in each other's company.
Please let me know if you are interested!
Best wishes,
Harry.
The green magical ink glittered and shimmered, winking playfully at Hermione, its hue so strongly reminiscent of the eyes of the author of these lines. She reread his slightly chaotic, but rather sweet message several times, just to make sure that she understood everything correctly. Harry really did ask her out on a date today after breakfast! He was not joking and was not going to back out at the last minute!
Although the tone and style of the letter seemed a little out of character for her friend, she was more touched by the gesture than she was willing to admit. Hermione would never have thought Harry capable of such romantic things, but then again, what did she really know about him? Apart from his superficial friendships with most of his classmates, his passion for Quidditch, his casual attitude towards his lessons, and other little things like his squabbles with the Slytherins and his inexplicable, fierce hatred of green beans, Harry was still, in many ways, a closed book to her. In fact, he was like that not only with Hermione, but with everyone at school: always ready to listen and support the people around him, but very rarely opening his heart to anyone.
Even though Hermione had been friends with Harry Potter for two years, and they had been through a lot of terrible dangers together, and then married because of a magical ritual and forced to become much closer physically than could be openly mentioned in polite society, Harry still managed to surprise her every day… When it came to keeping personal secrets, his secrecy could compete with, perhaps, Hermione's own. For example, who knew that behind the façade of a shy and socially awkward boy there was such a secret romantic?
Hermione looked at the note again, and then at the flower in her hands…
"Violets. He sent me pink violets as the first present! Oh, Harry…"
As a little child, she had once come across a book about the Victorian language of flowers that had once belonged to her paternal great-grandmother, and had been completely fascinated by it, so now she had a pretty good understanding of flowers and their meanings. Because of this, she now felt herself blushing uncontrollably, like… like a schoolgirl! Well, she was a schoolgirl, wasn't she? She was sitting on her bed, surrounded by a bunch of other girls, with her cheeks the color of ripe beetroot, and she just couldn't help it, and it was all because of Harry Potter! The boy, because of whom her stupid heart was now doing such somersaults that Hermione was seriously afraid that she would have a heart attack from an overdose of happiness!
It was all so confusing… She had never been given flowers in her life! She rarely received anything "without a reason" at all. Her mum and dad were not overly harsh with her, but they had taught their daughter early on to understand that every thing in this life, even birthday and Christmas presents, had to be earned through real hard work. Maybe that was why receiving this flowerpot of violets from Harry just like that first thing in the morning was so amazing… and so nice! Just like those unexpected midnight eclairs that Hermione still remembered the taste of... Harry hardly knew that with such simple warm gestures he had managed to immediately rise in Hermione's mental rating by ten points and instantly take all the prize positions, simply because he was so sweet and charming…
"Wow! So it was from a boy after all!" Lavender's strangely disappointed and teenage jealous voice cut into Hermione's thoughts.
"I knew it! Congratulations, Hermione!" Despite the confident and deliberately joyful tone, Parvati's eyebrows were also raised in genuine surprise.
"Wait a minute... So it was Potter who wrote to you? Harry Potter?" Disbelief and shock were clearly visible on Kella's dark face, who was now looking at Hermione as if she was really seeing her for the first time. "And he's asking you out on a date?"
"You're dating the Boy-Who-Lived?" Faye sang in unison with her classmate. Her blond braids were excitedly bouncing around her head like a pair of yo-yos, while she was still staring incredulously at the note in Hermione's hands.
They didn't even try to soften the harshness of their words, too shocked by the fact that someone like Harry Potter, the heroic Boy-Who-Lived, could set his sights on a wallflower and ugly Muggle-blooded bore as Hermione Granger.
Instead of throwing a fit, as she would have done a year ago, Hermione chose to ignore it all. Well accustomed to this kind of barb, she no longer showed anyone how much it really hurt her… still hurt, after all. No one needed to see her angry, or cry… No one would care, except maybe Harry and Ron, but those two were boys and could only throw punches, not comfort. Besides, Hermione didn't need anyone's comfort. Her roommates actually barked more than they bit. Hermione had bigger problems than their petty, run-of-the-mill barbs these days.
"You girls have no idea…" the Gryffindor grinned wryly to herself, imagining how their faces would stretch if they knew the whole truth about her and Harry.
Meanwhile, they had already managed to digest the first stunning news and were now bombarding Hermione with a volley of questions, pouring out of them like candy from a broken piñata.
"Why didn't you tell us anything, Hermione?!"
"How long has this been going on?!"
"Is this your first date with him?!"
"Have you kissed yet?!"
"He's a good kisser?! Oh, I bet he is..."
"He's always this sweet? Does he often give you presents like this?!"
"Come on, Hermione! We're dying of curiosity here! Tell us everything!!!"
Hermione cowered under the onslaught, trying to think of a way to get out of this trap with the least amount of damage, without being rude to anyone or making herself look like an inadequate autistic person. She probably didn't do a very good job of that last part, because the only thing she could think of was to jump out of bed, grab the first set of clothes she could find from the closet, and rush towards the showers, shouting something about how she'd completely forgotten that she was going to run into the library right before breakfast this morning to get some book for some class, and that she was already terribly late, and bla-bla-bla...
Whether the girls believed this nonsense or not, Hermione didn't know, because luckily she flew out of the room before they managed to grab her and chain her to the bed with a spell in order to continue the interrogation by force.
Despite her lie about being in a rush, she spent an extra twenty minutes thoroughly washing and drying her hair, and then spent a long time combing her wild mane in front of the mirror until she had achieved, if not a perfect style, then at least a more or less symmetrical shape. Although the result was still not very pretty and only slightly less like her usual rat's nest, it was the best Hermione could do with her grooming skills, so there was no point in continuing any further. Besides, now she was really running a little late.
"Next time, just use Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, deary! And do something about those split ends!" the mirror commented loudly, as usual, adding its uninvited contribution to Hermione's internal monologue.
Hermione grimaced at this, stuck her tongue out at her reflection and pulled on the rest of her clothes. She was lucky – in her haste, she managed to grab a more or less suitable blouse, as well as a warm sweater with a simple winter pattern of snowflakes and her favorite washed-out Muggle jeans, which she preferred to wear on weekends instead of uniform skirts. A knitted scarf and a long brown coat, appropriate for the weather, completed her simple ensemble, and most importantly, served as protection from the snowfall that had been falling almoust non-stop since the Quidditch match. If she and Harry were planning to go for a walk outside, Hermione had better wrap up warm in advance. Although she had usually tried to take care of her health before, for some time now the condition of her lower half and, in particular, her reproductive organs, had become her top priority…
Blushing at the turn her thoughts had somehow managed to take, she abruptly tucked her blouse into the waistband of her jeans and looked at herself critically in the mirror again. Satisfied that all the buttons were properly fastened and that nothing was sticking out anywhere, Hermione quietly opened the shower door to peer out into the hallway just as carefully.
"Phew..."
No one was lying in wait outside, but it wasn't worth the risk. Tiptoeing past the door to the second-year dormitory, Hermione quietly descended the stairs and exited the common room to disappear into the crowd of other students sleepily making their way to breakfast.
In her haste to get as far away from her nosy roommates as possible, Hermione hadn't realized that she had completely forgotten to refute their opinion that she and Harry had arranged a romantic date, and not just a friendly get-together... Not that it would have helped her, anyway. The invisible wheel of Hogwarts gossip had already set in motion and was now slowly but surely gaining momentum in those very minutes while Hermione's feet, shod in warm winter boots with thick soles, brought her closer to the doors of the Great Hall with each step.
Chapter 22Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextBy the time Hermione reached the Great Hall, breakfast was already in full swing. The excitement of the day ahead in Harry's company warred with the growing nervousness of how this would all go. What would she say to him? What would he say to her? Where would they go? What would they do or talk about? What would she do if he…?
"Calm down, you chicken! Don't make a mountain out of a molehill. It's just a date, not an annual exam. Millions of people around the world go on dates... "
However, she felt exactly like she was about to have her end-of-year exam, if not worse. Wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, Hermione pulled down the hem of her sweater and finally decided to step through the threshold, where she was immediately surrounded by the usual bustle and noise. Her gaze, out of habit, immediately slid to the Gryffindor table and almost immediately came across Harry, which was not difficult, because he was obviously waiting for her, his eyes boring into the entrance, and now enthusiastically waving his hand at her.
"Hermione! Over here!"
"My god, he couldn't have made it any more obvious..."
Blushing under the sidelong glances of the students, who had also clearly noticed the atypical behavior of the usually quiet and modest Harry Potter, she hurried to her impatient friend. Harry was clearly full of enthusiasm today, because he was almost jumping on the bench. Chaotic energy was just pouring out of him, which made him openly smile at the girl approaching him, although at other times he hated attracting attention to himself in public. Before this, Hermione had seen him so excited only during the Quidditch debates with Ron, and therefore she involuntarily blushed even more. It was nice to be the center of attention of another person, especially one as sincere and wonderful as Harry…
"Good morning!" he greeted her loudly, jumping up from his seat, causing several students to burst into laughter and Hermione's cheeks to turn even redder.
"Good morning…"
"Hey! Careful!" Dean Thomas winced as Harry gave him a painful jab in the ribs, causing him to quickly move over to give Hermione some space at the table.
Harry himself, however, seemed not to notice his classmate's displeasure. His attention was still completely and utterly riveted on Hermione, who was feeling more and more awkward with each passing second. Although she genuinely enjoyed shining in class, the rest of the time her place in the class social picture was usually located somewhere on the outskirts, and therefore the current situation threw her off track. She simply did not know how to behave correctly in this new role, and therefore now sat in a stupor, unable to squeeze out a word.
Nevertheless, she almost instantly forgot about all her fears and any coherent thoughts at all when Harry sat down close to her, and his hand quietly found hers under the table and intertwined their fingers.
"Everything alright? You seem a bit thoughtful today. Are you feeling okay?" The boy's quiet, concerned whisper and warm breath on Hermione's ear and cheekbone immediately caused a swarm of goosebumps to creep up under her collar.
She felt… oh… She felt good. Too good to be honest.
Harry's hard shoulder was now pressed against hers as he sat so close to her that their equally tousled hair brushed against each other unabashedly for all to see.
"Oh, God…"
It took a conscious effort for Hermione to resist the sharp intake of breath that was only partly due to nerves. The other – larger – part was the dark, sticky, and now all too familiar arousal that had instantly flared in her lower abdomen and was now spreading through her body in fiery streams. A telltale wet heat was quickly beginning to pool in her crotch, soaking her underwear. It only intensified when Harry's thumb moved to the back of her hand and began shamelessly drawing invisible circles on her skin.
"Please, no! Not again! Not today! Not in front of everyone!" Hermione begged silently.
She had naively thought that after she and Harry had done "the deed", all of that was in the past, but it seemed that it was not. She was once again reacting to the boy's presence like a wild animal in heat, completely unable to control her own body and its urges. Her clit and labia were swollen and enlarged, reacting acutely to Harry's close presence, as if he were a living, walking aphrodisiac. With every heartbeat, her inner walls pulsed, secreting more and more thick lubrication. Hermione could practically feel her vagina opening further, becoming wider and deeper, preparing and desperate to receive Harry's cock, even if she still felt uneasy at the very thought of it… Hermione's belly felt empty and aching, and the problem was not the lack of food. On some instinctive level, she knew that she needed something else to satisfy this insatiable hunger…
"Damn it, Harry! What's wrong with him today?! I've never seen him so bold and assertive! Why is he looking at me like that? Why is he touching me in front of everyone like that?! It's like... he's had a Draught of Courage or something... Or maybe he really has?"
At this moment, she herself would not refuse some kind of calming tincture if it would help her stop acting like a brainless, lustful fool in front of the entire Great Hall.
"I… I'm fine," she managed to say so quietly that Harry had to lean towards her again to hear anything.
Hermione's pulse was pounding in her ears. The longer Harry stayed close to her, the more closely he touched her, the more tense she became. A strange tingling sensation began where their skin touched, flowed up her arm to her shoulder and then straight to her heart, and then lower and lower… All her blood seemed to leave her brain to flow to a single point between her legs, pulsing with a heat so intense that she could barely sit still. Hermione's body hummed like an exposed live wire in a thunderstorm.
Trying hard to think of anything else to say that would just keep her from sitting there like a statue, Hermione muttered hoarsely:
"By the way… thanks for the violets. They're… really pretty."
"Oh… I'm glad," Harry's green eyes now shone with pure relief. "I was afraid you wouldn't like it," he admitted honestly.
"Why?"
"Uh... I don't know. I've never given anyone anything like that before, so I wasn't sure," now he looked embarrassed and laughed nervously at his own stupidity, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand.
Where had his old bravado gone? It seemed that, despite all his outward gaiety, he was just as worried inside as Hermione, he just didn't show it as clearly. The realization that she wasn't the only one who was feeling out of sorts had finally sunk into Hermione's confused mind and allowed her to relax a little. Although her libido was still screaming at her to do something incredibly idiotic here and now, her pragmatic brain had already kicked into gear again and was now slowly regaining its lost ground.
"I'm not an animal! I will not act like a crazy female gorilla in breeding season, shaking her a rse at a male! I'm a human. I'm a witch. I'm above this! I'm above the bloody oaths of the bloody ritual! "
"Well... it was quite unexpected," she said in a more confident tone, "but I really liked it. And the note too! That was very sweet of you, Harry, thank you!"
"Oh... That's cool."
"And of course I'd like to go for a walk with you. It'll be nice to be outside for a while, we haven't been out in so long…" She knew she sounded too formal, but it was the best she could manage while everyone was staring at her like she was a clown in a circus.
They exchanged glances with identical awkward smiles, and at that moment they both finally remembered that they were still in the middle of the Great Hall, and that many of their tablemates were still listening to their conversation with interest. At least the entire first, second, and half of their third year had only pretended to be busy eating, while in reality they had been sitting with their ears pricked up, trying not to miss a single word of the funny scene unfolding before them. There were only a few people missing, among whom – Hermione realized this only now – for some reason their mutual friend with Harry was missing, which was rather strange, because he had never missed breakfast before…
"By the way, where is Ron?"
"Sleeping," came the immediate short answer. "He went to bed late last night, and I decided not to wake him."
"Thank God for little mercies!" Hermione thought with strong feeling.
In her relief she almost missed the flash of something that looked very much like guilt in Harry's eyes, but it was so fleeting that she might, in fact, have imagined it.
Right now, it was more than enough for her to have Neville, Dean, and Seamus staring at her and Harry in surprise, as if they weren't sure how they should react to such blatant flirting between two of their classmates who had always acted as just friends up until now. At the same time, a flock of girls led by Parvati and Lavender were giggling nearby, already anticipating how they would savor the fresh gossip, spreading it throughout the castle and retelling it dozens of times in all the details, providing it along the way with a bunch of non-existent juicy details.
"By the end of the day, we'll be the talk of Hogwarts!"Hermione realized with growing horror.
Her mouth went completely dry as she imagined the scale to which this could go. Even now she couldn't shake the itching feeling with which dozens of pairs of eyes were boring into her from all sides. And not all of them were friendly.
Harry, next to her, however, still seemed not to notice anything. He could be thick-skinned at times… Hermione put it down to the fact that he was already under almost constant, unhealthy public scrutiny thanks to the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing, so had learned to ignore it. Then again, he had been wearing his Invisibility Cloak almost all the time lately, and had a tendency to disappear and never tell anyone where he had been, so maybe he wasn't taking his popularity as easily as it seemed…
Whatever the case, she and Harry had clearly already managed to shine in public. It was too late to back out, so instead Hermione steeled herself, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. If Harry could be brave, or at least look brave, then so could she!
"And anyway, what difference does it make if people start gossiping about us? After all, Harry and I are married! It's going to come out one day, too, so it's better if we're seen dating before then."
It was a frankly weak argument, considering that their entire future lives were at stake, but Hermione needed to grab onto something right now to keep her jittery nerves in check.
Gently releasing her hand from Harry's, she began to absentmindedly help herself to various foods, not really caring what they were. Harry was chewing on something too, although his eyes kept flicking over Hermione's profile as if it was physically difficult for him not to do so every five seconds.
After a few minutes of this passive torture, she gave in after nearly choking on the damn toast several times.
"Harry..." she hissed, no longer trying to hide her irritation.
"Hmm?"
"Could you, please, stop looking at me like that all the time?"
"Oh... Sorry," he blushed as a lobster, and finally deigned to turn away from her to fully concentrate on his plate.
Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. Sometimes Harry was so… so Harry. He wore his heart on his sleeve and was generally incapable of holding back his emotions, whether they were love or hate, and that was one of the things she actually liked about him. Even if it sometimes pissed her off a little.
"At least if I do something wrong, Harry's reaction will tell me right away," it was a surprisingly comforting thought.
In fact, why was she so worried about everything? After all, it was Harry! The boy who had become her first and best friend in the world after he had bravely thrown himself into her defense against a four-meter troll, risking his own life, and won (with Ron's support, of course, but Hermione was still firmly convinced that it was Harry who had initiated the "rescue operation")! Harry was too kind to blame her for the times she began to act like a shy retard around him.
"He's just as new to this whole romance thing as I am,"Hermione reminded herself. "He's probably just as afraid of making a mistake."
* * *
Since they were both too uncomfortable eating while their classmates were constantly whispering and giggling, Hermione and Harry finished picking at their portions rather quickly and hurried out.
Once the noisy walls of the Great Hall were behind, Hermione felt much better. She was full of anticipation and excitement again, although she knew she was overthinking it again. They were just going to take a walk around the school grounds together, for heaven's sake! It wasn't like Harry was asking her to marry him right now… Although technically they were already married and even more…
Hermione shook her head, trying to tune out her own rambling inner voice, which was once again spouting complete nonsense, jumping from one emotion to another at the speed of light, and tried to focus on the present moment instead.
Harry's mood had clearly improved as well, judging by the way he was smiling at Hermione again, and his walk had regained its former lightness and spring.
"So, are you ready?" He was referring to her outerwear, which Hermione was just finishing buttoning up.
He himself had already managed to pull a green nylon jacket over his shoulders with a wide, fuzzy collar, which hung baggily on his thin frame. The jacket looked rather shabby, with a broken zipper, and was also several sizes too big, but Hermione thought it best not to ask about it. Knowing now what his relatives were like, she would not be surprised if all of Harry's Muggle clothes turned out to be taken from the charity box or worse.
"Yep," she fastened the last button of her coat and wrapped the scarf tightly around her neck so that it covered her all the way to her chin. "Ready."
The weather was indeed glorious that day. The ice storm that had been raging outside Hogwarts for days had finally given up, leaving behind tons of snow and turning the entire area around the castle into a veritable Christmas card. Here and there, students had trodden narrow paths towards the greenhouses, the Quidditch pitch, and other important areas, but the rest of the landscape, including the mass of the Forbidden Forest and the mountain peaks, looked completely untouched, shining brightly in the sun in every shade of pure white.
The snow crust creaked pleasantly under Hermione and Harry's boots as they made their way through the drifts with their magic wands, heading towards Hagrid's hut. From there it was a comfortable descent to the lake, where they were going to make a short rest stop (Harry had a bag swinging over his shoulder, and Hermione really hoped that there would be some hot drink in it, because despite the clear day it was freezing cold and her nose was already starting to tingle slightly from the frost).
Walking in comfortable silence, they enjoyed the pale rays of the winter sun on their faces, slowly climbing the slope.
Surprisingly, they didn't even need to talk to each other… Hermione found herself enjoying it. Usually, she had to constantly fill the space between herself and other people with something, because otherwise she felt too uncomfortable. Words, book knowledge and quotes gave her the confidence and control over the situation she needed. They were Hermione's armor, which allowed her to feel safe from the chaos of the world around her and people whose behavior was also quite often completely unpredictable. Because of this, sometimes she spoke for two or even three people at once, just to be able to control what was happening around her…
For some reason, there was no need for this with Harry. Both he and Hermione felt comfortable enough next to each other to simply walk shoulder to shoulder, each immersed in their own thoughts and contemplation of the surrounding nature.
Soon enough they reached the top of a high hill, from where a truly stunning view of the valley below opened up.
"How beautiful!" Hermione let out a delighted sigh as she gazed in fascination at the fabulous panorama of the Forbidden Forest that opened up before them, stretching into the distance for many miles.
From here it was a stone's throw to Hagrid's hut, nestled at the edge of the forest, with a thin stream of smoke coming out of the chimney, indicating that the owner was probably inside. Hermione would not mind stopping by to visit him on the way back. They had not visited him for a long time, too busy with their own problems and lessons, and now the girl felt guilty. Hagrid was one of the nicest and kindest people in the castle, and although she was not friends with him to the same extent as Harry, she still liked the sympathetic and simple-minded half-giant very much.
"Yeah. But it looks even better from up there!" Harry's teasing comment made her snort and roll her eyes.
Harry knew very well that Hermione absolutely hated flying and would not sit on a broom even for all the gold in the world, but he still did not stop touching on this topic from time to time, in every possible way advertising how "wonderful and delightful it was to fly in the sky freely, like a bird." After that incident at the Quidditch match, he could not help but notice with what horror Hermione now looked at brooms. Even the Quidditch uniform sent shivers down her spine, not to mention those damned deadly Bludgers… Perhaps he thought that with occasional soft jokes and a confident tone he would eventually be able to slightly reduce his friend's phobia. Hermione herself strongly doubted this, but she still allowed him to do it. No matter how scared she was for him, she could not really demand that Harry suddenly give up his favorite activity just so that she would feel at ease! Harry deserved to have his own interests, even if it made Hermione's heart clench with icy dread every time he sat on one of those bloody brooms again...
"Hermione?"
"Huh?" She blinked, focusing her gaze on her companion again.
"We're here."
While she was deep in thought, they had reached the wide Hogwarts lake, which now stretched out before them like a huge smooth plateau, right up to the majestic mountains on the horizon. Apart from a few giant snow-covered boulders and a line of icy weeping willows that descended to the very edge of the frozen water, there was nothing special about the place.
It hadn't been that cold as they'd been moving, but now Hermione was beginning to feel that not only her nose, but her cheeks and ears were getting cold, too, and she seriously regretted not having thought to bring a hat. While she was conjuring up a glass jar of blue flame to warm herself up a little, Harry had thrown his bag down and was rummaging around in it, looking for something.
"Skates?" Hermione's eyebrows shot up to her bangs in surprise when she saw what he'd pulled out. "But where did you…?"
And indeed, Harry had two pairs of brand new leather skates in his hands: one black, larger, and the other brown, smaller. He was now handing the smaller pair to Hermione.
"I ordered it… by owl," he answered a little evasively, and explained, "I've always wanted to learn to skate, but there's no rink in Little Whinging. Besides, the Dursleys wouldn't let me anyway, and… well…" He waved his hand vaguely, trailing off mid-sentence, and frowned.
He may have thought Hermione would laugh at him and his idea, but she was actually delighted.
"Skates! Really, Harry! How lovely!"
She was so happy she wanted to hug him right then and there, but she held back, afraid of making the situation uncomfortable for both of them. It was unknown how her own body would react to this, not to mention what Harry might feel… Hermione had already guessed from some signs that she was not the only one who had suffered from the "symptoms" of the ritual all this time. She would not like to torment Harry even more in this way, and therefore she tried to reduce physical contact between them to a minimum, even though it hurt her.
However, that didn't mean they couldn't have a blast skating today! The last time Hermione did this was over two years ago, when she was visiting her grandparents in France, but she still remembered how great it had been: the swift gliding across the ice, the graceful pirouettes of other more experienced dancers, the hot cocoa with marshmallows between runs... Hermione loved it all! Why hadn't she thought of bringing her skates from home to Hogwarts?!
Without thinking twice, she enthusiastically grabbed the pair handed to her, which fit exactly, and deftly pulled them on in place of her boots, while Harry huffed and puffed as he struggled with his skates.
Once both teenagers were properly shod, it was time to descend onto the ice. This was not easy, considering that Harry kept stumbling, and his arms flailing awkwardly like a windmill. Smiling to herself at his clumsy attempts to balance on the shaky blades, Hermione couldn't help but grab the boy's hands and then slowly lead him to the edge of the lake, allowing him to cling tightly to her the entire way.
"Take your time. First, stand on the ice and get a feel for the skates. Try to find your balance. Now bend your knees a little… Yes, like that. Keep your hands slightly in front of you for better stabilization…" Hermione explained patiently, quoting from memory a brochure that she had once read cover to cover several times before she herself had risked stepping onto the rink for the first time.
Harry listened to her in silence, and then tried to do everything exactly as he was told. It turned out that when it wasn't about "boring" school lessons, he could be a very diligent and attentive student. Who would have thought...
"Start the movement by pushing off slightly with one leg, and then alternate legs. Not so abruptly! More smoothly... Yeah, like that. Don't tense your muscles, or you'll fall! Okay... Keep going... That's right..."
For a while she continued to lead him by the hands, while moving backwards herself, but then Harry clearly began to feel more confident and began to pick up speed, so Hermione hurried out of the way.
"It works... It works! I'm going! Look, Hermione! I'm going by myself!" Harry's ringing voice was filled with undisguised delight when he really did slide without support for the first time.
"Well done, Harry! You're doing great!" Hermione skated alongside him, still ready to catch him if necessary, but Harry didn't need to. He seemed to be a natural skater, just as he was a natural Seeker.
He continued to pick up speed, moving his legs and arms with confidence, until Hermione soon found it difficult to keep up with him. Her muscles and lungs burned with the effort as she and Harry raced forward across the frozen surface of the lake so fast it was hard to see anything to the sides. The opposite bank was rapidly approaching, and it soon became clear that if they did not turn quickly they would crash straight into the trees.
"Uh... slow down, Harry... not so fast..."
"I'm... trying!"
"Harry! Stop!"
"I'M TRYING!"
"HARRY!"
"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME..."
"A-A-A-A!!"
"…HOW TO STO-O-O-OP!!"
Chapter 23Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextThe whistle of the icy wind, the blurry line of the shore, Hermione's terrified cry – all merged into a single chaotic moment for Harry, flashing like lightning as they rushed inexorably together towards the trees.
Hermione grabbed his shoulder, trying to push her blades into the ice at the same time in a desperate attempt to slow them both down, but it was like trying to hold back a speeding train; she was simply carried along with him.
In an attempt to do at least something, Harry spun sharply, trying to turn his back forward, while simultaneously wrapping his arms around Hermione and pressing her tightly to his body, and a moment later they already fell to the ground with a loud squeal.
Although the thick layer of snow and the elemental magic of the teenagers significantly softened the collision, Harry still slammed hard into the snags, knocking all the breath out of him. The momentum of the impact dragged him and Hermione another good three meters across the fresh crust until they were buried deep in a snowdrift.
"Ouch!.."
Harry's back and bottom were hurting terribly. His glasses had flown off in an unknown direction and were probably broken. His jacket was torn in several places, and a whole ton of prickly snow had gotten into his collar. On top of that, Hermione was still pressing down on him from above with an immobile and not entirely light weight, tenaciously clasping him with all her limbs and pressing tightly against his chest, while her nose and lips were buried somewhere in Harry's neck, and... well, in general, his situation was not all so bad. In a way, it was quite pleasant even...
Despite the general state of the rest of his body, Harry's cock rose in interest a little bit, reacting to the girl's close presence, but Potter deliberately ignored it. What worried him more at the moment was that Hermione still hadn't moved, although she was clearly conscious, judging by how quickly she was breathing and how tightly her fingers were clutching his jacket. Harry had done his best to take the brunt of the blow, as his bruised buttocks were now loudly testifying, so Hermione couldn't be too hurt…
"Hermione?"
Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing still-frightened brown eyes.
Harry propped himself up on his elbow, hissing softly at the multiple bruises he was suffering, and squinted myopically to get a better look at her face.
"Are you okay?"
Although he couldn't see her clearly, he knew that Hermione was staring at him just as intently right now. She nodded in response to his question, but for some reason she wasn't in a hurry to get off him.
Seconds ticked by, a fine snow powder began to fall around them again, but Harry and Hermione continued to lie silently in the snowdrift, pressed close to each other and staring into each other's eyes. Their equally heavy breathing, still discordant after the recent race, escaped from their half-open mouths in clouds of steam, then merged together and quickly melted in the cold air.
"Are you... um... hurt?" Harry managed, swallowing as he felt Hermione shift slightly on top of him, unintentionally brushing against his bulge.
Still silent, the girl shook her head in denial. Her darkened gaze, riveted on Harry's face, was full of emotions, to unravel which meant plunging into an abyss from which there was no escape. The warmth of her body, lying on top of Harry's, seeped through even several layers of thick winter clothing, causing his back to become covered in sweat, as if there was no bitter frost around at all. If he had still been wearing his glasses, the lenses would have fogged up right now. The spots where Hermione had touched Harry's body were burning, as if someone had cast a searing charm on them.
"Shit..."
This was exactly what Harry had feared: he was rapidly losing control. Close contact with Hermione had an absolutely destructive effect on his will.
The solid weight of her body, her deep chocolate eyes with their dilated pupils, her inviting pink lips - all of it acted on him like them most powerful aphrodisiac. Hermione's thick honey-colored hair had become disheveled and now fell on either side of her face, covering them both in a living silk cloak. It tickled Harry's cheeks like soft down, causing waves of goosebumps to roll down his neck and chest straight to his groin.
Unable to resist, he moved a little closer and did what he had dreamed of and denied himself for many weeks – he noisily and deeply inhaled the delightful floral scent of the girl's curls and quietly moaned, closing his eyes in pleasure…
"Hermione..."
He had screwed up. Big time. He knew it.
All his hard-won self-control was going to hell.
Just five minutes ago, this day had been perfect – just as Dobby had predicted, when he brought Harry a microscopic vial of an unknown golden potion that morning and told him to drink it if he wanted luck to be on his side today. Harry, of course, wanted it very much, and so he swallowed the whole vial without hesitation. Only then did it occur to him how stupid he had been to consume an unknown substance offered to him by a barely familiar house-elf, who had nearly killed him several times not so long ago…
"You're a complete idiot, Potter!" his inner Snape commented this, rolling his eyes at such blatant carelessness.
Luckily for Harry, this time Dobby didn't seem to have any killing life-saving plans for him, so he didn't die on the spot from poisoning, didn't lose consciousness, and didn't even grow a tail and gills. On the contrary, just a few seconds after taking a sip, Potter felt an unprecedented surge of strength and self-confidence. Now he knew exactly what to do!
In fact, it was so easy… It was all right under his nose! A date with Hermione, you say? A piece of cake! Now he could move mountains on his own, if he wanted to!..
After that, he began to act on intuition, and each of his subsequent decisions actually magically turned out to be the best possible one... until now. What was happening now was a complete disaster!
As much as he wanted to be one with Hermione again, he did not want it to happen like this! He craved her so badly, but not here! Not on the shores of a frozen mountain loch in the dead of a Scottish winter, while they were both slowly but surely being buried under snow! It would have been much better if it had happened somewhere indoors, preferably in a cozy warm bed next to a roaring fire, where they could truly enjoy each other…
His own dick, languishing in the hard captivity of his trousers, categorically disagreed with him.
Hermione's still childishly narrow, but so elastic and seductive thighs, resting on both sides of his own hips, and her hot fertile womb hidden only by denim fabric, currently located just a few centimeters from his erection, stubbornly egged Harry on to spit on all moral prohibitions and take her right here.
He wanted Hermione! He wanted his wife! Right now! He had waited and suffered for so long!..
"Oh, no-no-no-no-no... No! NO!"
Still keeping his eyes closed, Potter lay still in the snow like a rabbit under a hawk circling in the sky, barely breathing, as if that could help him wait out the danger. The problem, however, was that the main danger in this situation was Harry himself.
He clenched his fists as hard as he could, fighting the urge to grab Hermione roughly by the shoulders and kiss her, no matter that he'd never done this before and had no idea what he was supposed to do. He really, really, really wanted to pull her down and flip her over onto her back, switching them, pinning her underneath him, and then unbutton her jeans, pull down her knickers, and…
"No! NO! Get a grip, Potter! You won't do anything like that! Hermione doesn't deserve this! She's your best friend! You are her best friend! You're her bloody husband and you should be protecting her, not attacking her like a feral beast! Don't you dare even think about her like that, you horny bastard!"
Any careless action or sound on his part or Hermione's part could trigger an avalanche that Harry would be powerless to stop. His rock-hard penis was painfully pressing against the zipper on his trousers and was pressing quite clearly into the space between the girl's legs.
Hermione must have known about his condition… There was no way she wouldn't know. But right now, Harry couldn't even bring himself to feel ashamed of it. He'd jerked himself off until the calluses on his palm began to bleed for so many days just thinking of her, and now, being so close to her, he couldn't think of anything else except how much he wanted to have sex with her again.
"Hermio-o-one..." a plaintive groan escaped his throat, like that of a beaten dog begging its owner to have mercy on it.
"Harry!.." The way she breathed out his name in that hoarse, emotion-filled voice, completely unlike her usual tone, did something incredible to Potter.
"Ah!" He shuddered uncontrollably, as if under an electric current, hitting his pelvis against her crotch.
"Oh, God, Harry!" Hermione began to tremble noticeably over his thighs and her fingers clenched tightly around the jacket on his chest until it creaked.
"Hermione, I… I can't... ahh!" He gasped and pushed again, and – oh, Christ! – she responded with her own thrust, moaning in unison with him.
"NO! STOP IT!" A giant flashing brake light appeared in Harry's mind's eye.
The Liquid Luck, still coursing through his veins, gripped him tightly from the inside, holding him back in one last step before jumping off the cliff. At the same time, the ritual oaths, Harry's own arousal, and the clearly insane Hermione clinging openly to him were attacking him from the other flank, trying to overcome the potion's effects. It was a bloody battle to the death, and Potter's body was the arena.
"Hermione is out of her mind! You are both out of your minds! You need to stop right now!"
It was more than he could handle. More than anyone could handle. It was too much.
He felt sick. His tongue tasted bitter as his stomach tightened and shot up into his throat.
"Herm…"
Abruptly falling silent, he rudely pushed the girl aside in a hurry, turning over on his side and recoiling as far away from her as possible, and the next moment he was already painfully vomiting up the rest of the potion and everything he had managed to eat for breakfast.
Trying to breathe between fits, Harry stayed on all fours for a while, throwing up every last bit until eventually there was not even bile left in him. Through the fog of nausea, he could feel Hermione's caring hands on his shoulders, holding him up and preventing him from falling face-first into the dirty snow.
When he felt completely empty inside, Potter crawled away from the stinking puddle and sat down on the nearest stone, wiping his lips with the sleeve of his sweater in disgust. He felt exhausted and still a little dizzy, but much better than he had a few minutes ago. At least his head was clear enough that he no longer wanted to pounce on Hermione and rape her right there. Judging by the way Hermione was no longer looking at him with that strange hungry expression, her brain had also managed to return to its place.
"Fuck! FUCK! Bloody shitty stupid ritual! Oh… We're both such screwed…"
And why hadn't he thought before that Hermione had been no better off than he had been these past few weeks? Had she really been hiding it that well, or was he just such an inattentive, self-obsessed ass that he'd managed to miss all the nonverbal cues?
"Aguamenti! Here, take it..."
Harry gratefully accepted the glass of clean water from his friend and rinsed his mouth thoroughly several times until he completely got rid of the taste of bile. He then received a second identical glass, which he drank in small sips, enjoying the feeling of the cool liquid in his burnt throat and empty stomach.
When he dared to meet her eyes again, Hermione gave him a weak, forced smile. She seemed as embarrassed and annoyed by her recent behavior as Harry was by his.
"Looks like we're going to have to talk about it... and all other things too," she stated the obvious and winced.
"Yeah..." Harry grinned wryly. This wasn't how he'd planned to end the day... but here they are.
Now that the potion had mostly worn off, he felt like himself again – not the super-lucky, all-powerful young wizard, but just a confused boy who had no idea what to do to avoid making this already awkward situation even worse for both of them.
"Let's get out of here first, shall we? I think there's a snowstorm coming on. I wouldn't want to be buried alive in the snow, thank you very much!" Hermione spoke in a deliberately bossy tone, for which Harry was grateful. He was in no condition to "lead" himself at the moment and was glad to rely on someone more confident in what she was doing.
Hermione summoned his glasses, which were indeed broken, and skillfully repaired them with a few precise Reparo. She also patched up the holes in Harry's jacket, and then even managed to heal all of his minor bruises with some medical charm unknown to the boy.
"Wow! You really do know a lot of useful spells, Hermione!" Potter whistled in genuine admiration as the superficial but numerous cuts on his palms healed in a matter of seconds. Hermione's magic felt like a soft, soothing cloud on his skin, so pleasant that Harry didn't mind getting hurt a little again sometime, just to feel it once more... even though this smacked of self-mutilation.
"You'd know them too if you spent a little more time in the library," Hermione grumbled back. However, the blush that instantly appeared on her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes told Harry that his praise had hit the mark.
"She's so easy to please," he smiled quietly and made a mental note to praise Hermione as often as possible. Especially since he wasn't being disingenuous at all - she really was a pure genius in everything that concerned studies!
"Maybe," he said aloud. "But I'm sure I couldn't have done it as well as you did. You really have a light hand!" He experimentally moved each limb in turn in a funny Humpty Dumpty manner to prove it, and was glad not to feel any pain this time. "See? As good as new!"
Hermione snorted and cast a couple more diagnostic and healing spells on him just in case.
* * *
They decided not to tempt fate any further and simply summoned their boots and Harry's bag to start back along the solid bank. They trudged along in silence for a while in the thick snowfall, each processing in their own way what had just happened.
"Almost happened," Harry corrected himself.
Now he was shocked and actually scared by how close he and Hermione had come to crossing that invisible line and ruining everything.
"But now I can at least say for sure that I'm not alone in this soup…"
Harry wasn't sure that was such good news. If he himself was having such a hard time dealing with the overwhelming need for sex, what must Hermione have felt? She had always been so... orderly... so rational... How did she manage to deal with it day in and day out and remain so unperturbed? Could she… help herself, like Harry did? Did she…?
Here he had to quickly interrupt his thoughts, which too quickly slid down a dangerous path again.
Instead, he began to go over in his mind his plans for today, which he had not managed to implement because of the stupid accident on the lake. It was still very disappointing that nothing had worked out! He had put so much effort into it... And Dobby had helped a lot too! In fact, it was he who did all the main work! If it had not been for the house-elf, Harry would never have been able to compose that note for Hermione so beautifully, not to mention the violets, and the delivery of the parcel to the girls' dorm, and the purchase of skates, and everything else that he and Hermione had not managed to get to...
"Hermione?"
"Hm?"
"Look... I was just thinking... If you're not too tired and cold..."
"Yes?"
"How about we come back a little later? It's only midday, and we could... well..."
He really wished he could stop stammering and mumbling right now, but the mental image of a disheveled Hermione, flushed with arousal, her hand shoved up her skirt, masturbating furiously in some secluded corner of Hogwarts, was making it hard for Potter to concentrate on his own words. He had to give himself a painful, discreet pinch on the skin of his wrist before he could continue.
"I was thinking, after the skating we could have a little something to eat… Not in the Great Hall, I mean! There are too many people there! Somewhere quieter… Just you and me."
"You want to have a picnic? In December?" She raised her eyebrows and looked doubtfully at his bag with skates, obviously wondering where there could be room for food. And that's not counting the cold wind and snowstorm that penetrated to the bone!
"Uh… sort of?" He scratched the back of his head and smiled uncertainly, not wanting to reveal all his cards too soon, but at the same time afraid that excessive secrecy would push Hermione away, especially considering the recent episode…
"...which we still have to talk about," Harry sighed heavily in resignation to the inevitable.
"Well... okay. Why not?"
"Great! Then let's go quickly!" Harry almost jumped up and down, happy at her compliance. Not all was lost after all!
He looked at his wristwatch, the hands of which now showed half past one. It seemed that they had spent much more time at the lake than he thought! They really should hurry.
"What's the rush? Did you book us a table at the restaurant?" Hermione joked.
"Yeah. Something like that," this time Harry smiled slyly.
"Seriously, Harry! Where are we going?"
"You'll see!"
They spent the next ten minutes walking in the opposite direction until they reached a fork in the road, one path leading to the greenhouses and the castle, and the other to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the forester's hut.
"Do you want to visit Hagrid?" Hermione asked as Harry chose the second path. There was a slight look of confusion on her face, though she didn't seem upset by the suggestion.
"Not quite…"
Although the snow around the hut was well cleared and trampled, and fragrant smoke was pouring from the chimney, Harry knew that they would not find the owner inside. Fang, Hagrid's giant cowardly dog, had not run out to greet them as usual, which was very convenient now – the boy did not want the cute, but unusually annoying animal to get underfoot.
Just in case, Harry knocked anyway, and then, when no one answered, he simply pushed the door, which turned out to be unlocked.
"Harry, wait! We can't just barge into someone else's..."
"It's okay. Hagrid knows we were coming. He doesn't mind."
It was true. Harry had visited Hagrid himself the day before, and had told him in general terms about his planned date with Hermione (he hadn't called it a date outright, but Hagrid must have guessed it anyway, judging by the soft smile that gleamed in his dark beetle eyes), and his intention to surprise her with a picnic. At first, he had simply planned to ask his adult friend for a few blankets and permission to light a small fire on the school grounds (Harry wasn't exactly sure who in the school administration he should approach with such a request, and had simply figured that the Keeper of the Keys was the right person for that).
Having heard about his plans, Hagrid was only too happy to help. And even more! He was ready to put his entire house at Harry's disposal, since he himself was going into the forest for a few days anyway in search of some spiders (the forester muttered this part in a thunderous bass whisper, looking around warily, and then fell silent completely, not wanting to expand on this topic any further, so Harry did not insist).
"Hagrid let us have a picnic right in his house? Harry, that's wonderful! I hope you thanked him properly?"
"Of course! But you can thank him in person later. He'll be pleased. You know he likes people to come visit... er... even when he's not there, it seems."
"I'll definitely do that! And we should get him something nice for Christmas! An encyclopedia about dragons, maybe, or... or new gloves!"
"We," Harry couldn't help but give a silly smile because of her little slip-up.
It sounded… weighty. And nice. Still funny, though. Like they were already a solid, grown-up married couple…
"Don't get ahead of yourself! Baby steps…"
Trying to be gallant, Harry opened the door for Hermione, as the heroes of the historical novels he had read in snatches in primary school had done, and was rewarded with a little smile on her face.
"I hope we're not too early and Dobby's gone already..." He felt a sudden sense of worry. "Oh, shit! What if he hasn't had time to prepare everything yet?! Damn, I should have checked everything myself first!" Potter hurriedly squeezed into the house after the girl.
His worries disappeared as soon as he heard Hermione's delighted gasp:
"Harry, what is this?!"
"Surprise!"
"Oh my God! You organized all this yourself?!"
"Well... yes. Mostly. But I got a lot of help with the details," Harry answered modestly, trying to hide his wide, satisfied grin.
There was certainly something to see here! Dobby had done a great job, following Harry's many detailed instructions. Although it was still a modest cabin in the woods, it had been transformed beyond recognition: all the dust and cobwebs in the corners had disappeared; the usual clutter had turned into a cozy cramped space; thick candles were placed everywhere, casting soft shadows around them, and a fragrant Christmas wreath of holly had appeared above the fireplace. To top it all off, a delicious dinner of various hot and cold dishes was laid on the cleaned table, which would have been more than enough for even ten people, and on the mantel languished several fragrant fruit and meat pies.
"Wow!" Harry stared a little dumbfounded at the abundance of food in front of him.
He remembered asking Dobby to bring him "a little of this and a little of that," but he had never thought the house-elf would take his words so literally! In addition to traditional winter dishes like roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, sausages, and pies, there was also a lot of fruit, desserts, and foreign food that Harry was completely unfamiliar with.
"There's no way we'll eat all this… without Ron, at least," Hermione's quiet mutter was in tune with his own thoughts.
"You're probably right... but we'll never know unless we try, right?"
"Yeah..."
Leaving their soaking wet outerwear and shoes to dry near the fireplace, they hurried to the table to pour themselves some hot cocoa.
Harry had deliberately kept the identity of his mysterious assistant a secret from Hermione. Knowing his friend well, with her suspiciousness and strict attitude towards any kind of "breaking the rules without a good reason", he was not sure how she would feel about his friendship with a strange magical creature who had been directly involved in his recent injury. Someday Harry would have to introduce the two of them to each other… eventually. Frankly, he was not so sure that after that Hermione would not immediately try to rip Dobby's head off for the fact that, thanks to him, Potter ended up in the hospital wing with half his bones broken. On the other hand, Dobby did not act out of malice! She would understand that… right? Yeah...
Apart from Dobby going "a little" overboard with the amount of food, everything else was done to a high standard. Harry just hoped that in his overzealousness the house elf hadn't vaporized some particularly dear to Hagrid's heart pile of junk, for which the boy would later have to apologize to his friend…
Sipping cocoa with cinnamon and marshmallows to the peaceful crackling of logs and the howling of a blizzard outside the window, the two teenagers periodically cast sideways, meaningful glances at each other and nervously grinned.
Both were thinking about roughly the same thing. Both knew about the invisible, but very large and persistent elephant, stuck in this very room with them.
Finally, when there was not a drop left in Harry's mug, he realized that his time was up.
"Man up, Potter!"
"Hermione, I…"
"Harry, I…"
"…want to talk to you about something," they finished in unison and stared at each other, after which they laughed awkwardly.
"Alright… This has been brewing for a long time."
"Yeah..."
"Okay. Anyway..."
"Listen, Hermione..."
And, of course, both of their stomachs chose that exact moment to loudly announce themselves, trumpeting hungrily throughout the room.
"…can we get something to eat first?" Harry finished, not quite as he had intended, taking advantage of the convenient excuse to back out at the last moment.
"Wimp!"
"Yes! I could eat!" Hermione exclaimed with exaggerated cheerfulness, clearly also relieved that this conversation was being postponed for a while. "I couldn't swallow a bite this morning with all those looks..."
"Tell me about it!" Harry grumbled. "I feel like there's nothing left in me except water."
"Oh, right! Here! Eat something quickly! You need to regain your strength!" With those words, she grabbed Harry's empty plate and began to put a lot of meat, bread and potatoes on it herself.
Arguing with Hermione when she was fixating on something was completely useless, and sometimes downright harmful to one's health and nerves, so Potter didn't even try. Leaning back in his chair, he was happy to let her boss him around as she pleased, serving him at the table. It's not like anyone tried to "fatten him up" very often, really! Besides, later Harry will definitely "take revenge" on her a hundredfold, cunningly forcing her to eat a whole bunch of unhealthy sweets, which she usually denies herself...
The imaginary invisible elephant yawned and curled up in the corner of the room to take a short nap while it waited for their stomachs to be full and their nerves to settle. It was going to make sure to remind them of itself later.
Chapter 24Notes:Sorry for the long wait. The chapter turned out to be emotionally charged and a bit heavy. And long. Anyway, enjoy reading!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text"Oh, Harry... that was something!"
"O-o-o-o-oh... I think I'm going to die..."
"I... uh... I've never been so full!"
"Me too…"
"Oh, God..."
With long groans, Hermione and Harry finally fell away from their plates and leaned back in their chairs, closing their eyes in utter exhaustion. Although they had managed to finish barely a fifth of the food in front of them, neither of them were able to eat another bite without the fear of instantly bursting.
Fragrant boiled potatoes, sandwiches, assorted pies, cold cuts, duck liver parfait, beef fillet in puff pastry, baked pork with a crispy crust, spicy fish soup, all sorts of sauces, sweets and fruits - Hermione honestly tried to eat a little of everything, but it turned out to be simply physically impossible. Somewhere there were even sushi, shrimp and pizza, as well as some bizarre meat and fish dishes of Central Europe and American fast food, and literally all of it was the freshest, smelled deliciously and cooked in such a way that it was impossible to tear yourself away! It was reminiscent of the wildest holiday feasts at Hogwarts, with the only difference that now all these mind-blowing delicacies were prepared exclusively for two Gryffindor second-years.
For an hour, they were occupied with nothing but chewing, swallowing, and drinking down everything they could get their hands on, until by the end they could barely breathe. This must have been how the ancient Roman patricians felt during their unbridled bacchanalias, which sometimes lasted so long that they had to periodically leave the table to tickle their throats with a feather and make room for more gluttony…
Hermione had no idea where Harry had gotten all this food and how he had managed to get it all into Hagrid's hut (he would have to have had help from someone, maybe even Hagrid himself or one of the professors), but frankly, she was so stuffed and sleepy at the moment that she didn't really care. If Harry wanted, he would tell her all about it later... or she would get it out of him, one way or another, eventually...
Her hand resting on her overfilled stomach, Hermione lazily opened one eye to find Harry again, who was still sitting at the opposite end of the table, wearing the same pained-happy expression as hers. His usually pale, sunken cheeks were flushed and shiny from the richness of his meal. He leaned his elbows on the table, blinking blearily and desperately fighting back wide yawns, ready to fall face-first into the salad and snore sweetly.
Food coma – that was how one could describe their mutual state right now. So, how exactly were they going to have serious conversations in such a situation?
"Or maybe this is exactly the best time to tell him," thought Hermione. "While we're both so full and good-natured... Yes, I have to tell him right now, otherwise it will be hard for me to decide again later!.."
"Harry?"
"M-hm?"
He looked so peaceful that Hermione hesitated again for a moment, not wanting to break this bubble of serenity… She quickly overcame her cowardly impulse. She had already dragged this whole thing out to the limit – and look at the result! As soon as the opportunity presented itself, she pounced on poor helpless Harry like some wild forest creature and almost forced him to have sex with her right in the middle of an open field, where literally anyone could see them from the castle windows!
Still feeling acutely ashamed of her recent inappropriate behavior and guilty for keeping Harry in the dark until now, Hermione sat up straight in her seat and said in a firm tone:
"Harry, we really need to talk."
In response, the boy reluctantly opened his eyes and blinked sleepily, and then let out a heavy sigh:
"Yes… I know."
"Alright. It's like ripping off a plaster: just do it in one go!"
"Harry, remember there was something I wanted to tell you in the hospital wing?"
"Hm?" He raised his eyebrows at first. He had thought they were going to talk about today's episode... Well, they would get there soon enough, Hermione just needed to set the stage for it first.
"Before you asked me out," she prompted.
"Oh! Right! Sorry, I completely forgot... So what did you want to say?"
"Harry..." Hermione took another deep breath, "I'm still notpregnant."
"You're still..." He trailed off, choking on his words. "What?"
"Yeah," she chuckled darkly, perfectly understanding his emotions right now.
"Believe me, I'm still in shock and horror myself that I'm trying to get pregnant rather than prevent pregnancy."
There was an awkward silence between them for a few minutes after that, during which the only sounds were the howling of the wind in the fireplace and the rattling of the window frames. Hermione looked at her fingers, with their bitten hangnails and ink marks embedded deep into the skin, and Harry mindlessly pushed a half-eaten potato around his plate.
"Are you upset about it?" Hermione finally asked cautiously, when the oppressive silence beginning to grate on her nerves. "That it didn't work out?"
"I… don't know what to say, Hermione. I thought… We had… hm… I mean… are you sure?"
"Absolutely. I went to Madam Pomfrey the night before the match and she did some tests. She's pretty sure I'm not pregnant."
"Oh… I see."
Judging by the confusion on his face, he hadn't got a clue what she was talking about. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes in annoyance. God, she would make him read those medical encyclopedias someday!
"It doesn't always happen the first time," she began to explain patiently. "Statistically, the probability of conception is approximately twenty to twenty-five percent during one ovulation cycle, even if both partners are physically healthy and fertile. The frequency of... ahem... sexual intercourse also plays a very important role."
"Uh…"
"Of course, factors like stress, diet and the specific day of the cycle also matter... but, by and large, it all depends on the number of sexual acts."
"Oh…"
"Oh my God, do I really have to tell him this straight out?!"
"Harry, that means we have to have se…"
"Yes!"
"Huh?"
"Yes! Let's do it!"
Hermione blinked in confusion, not expecting him to scream so loudly. It almost sounded like… yes, it definitely sounded like despair. Harry's entire posture had changed dramatically in an instant: just now he was slouched in his chair like a salted snail under the scorching sun, barely keeping his eyes open, and now every muscle in his body looked tense, as if he was about to rush into battle. He even leaned on the tabletop, unconsciously leaning towards Hermione… It seemed that just a little more and he would pounce on her like a tiger, simply jumping over the table!
"God, what kind of nonsense is creeping into my head again?! Harry and tigers? Seriously?!" She tried to mentally reduce everything to a joke, but for some reason she didn't want to laugh. Not with the way Harry was looking at her now with his bright green eyes, which at that moment really did look like a cat's…
Hagrid's tiny, smoky hut suddenly seemed even smaller as Hermione realized that the only thing separating her from Harry was this narrow table with the remains of food. They were completely alone here now, trapped for hours in the middle of a raging snowstorm...
This whole situation should have made her anxious, but Hermione felt surprisingly calm. In fact, she hadn't felt so cozy and warm in a long time... and it was only getting warmer with each passing minute... Harry's burning gaze, constantly sliding over her face and neck, made her blush uncontrollably from the heat rising from within.
"Oh. He wants it that badly?" Hermione bit her lower lip while looking at her friend, slightly stunned, as his morning fussy mood suddenly returned to him, so much so that he even began to fidget in his chair. "But why am I surprised... Boys his age only think about one thing..."
"Yeah… "Boys" you say…" her own sarcastic imaginary double immediately intervened in the mental conversation. "As if you are any different! yourself"
And, indeed, Hermione had to admit that a significant portion of her thoughts had been focused exclusively on reproductive biology and intercourse for some time now. Especially intercourse… The revelation that had overtaken her a few weeks ago in the bathroom of the hospital wing had been the decisive push for her, which was immediately followed by a free fall down the rabbit hole.
It was quite unexpected. And chaotic. And quite scary, because Hermione had never encountered anything like this in her life… In the end, it was very intriguing!
Curious by nature, she simply could not ignore such an unusual new aspect that she had suddenly discovered in herself. Instead, she wanted to explore it as soon as possible! The strange, enticing, tugging feeling she had experienced when casually touching her labia and clitoris while taking a bath… it was something truly amazing! Even when Hermione had deliberately touched herself a couple of times during the summer holidays in the safety and privacy of her childhood bedroom, she had felt nothing like this, only the softness and pliability of her own flesh under her fingers – nothing like the wetness and heaviness and pulsation that she had accidentally discovered while bathing…
Was it the hot water? Or the soap on her skin? Or the general relax of her state at the time?..
Hand on heart, she knew the right answer.
Harry. It was all about Harry and the way his body had touched hers as he took her virginity their first time.
Everything had changed. She herself had become a little different, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why. It was as if her entire former self had first shattered into a million tiny pieces and then glued itself back together, but in a slightly different way than before... It wasn't worse or better than before. It was... just different.
Hermione's head was now spinning with a million questions that couldn't be answered by the dry, outdated medical texts in the Hogwarts vault. She wanted to understand why adults had sex so often, and whether there was anything else to it other than the natural desire to procreate. Why did they want it so much? What exactly did partners of both sexes experience during intercourse? How did they manage to turn painful sensations into pleasant ones? Surely this must have been pleasant for women too, right? Otherwise the human race would have died out long ago or would have been much less numerous…
Without access to any normal sources of information, Hermione was left to blindly read tea leaves (metaphorically speaking). Apart from her limited practical experience and the almost useless theory she had, she found herself wandering in a void of complete ignorance with no real reference points to rely on.
"Why isn't there a single book I need in all of Hogwarts?!"she lamented after yet another fruitless trip to the school library.
Several Muggle reference books that Professor McGonagall had bought at Hermione's request last time also turned out to be not what she was looking for. They contained only dry anatomical summaries and facts that the young Gryffindor already knew by heart, and said absolutely nothing about how to properly relax and achieve physical pleasure during sex or self-gratification. Information hunger was eating away at Hermione's brain from the inside, and it was literally the worst feeling in the world!
Field research like this, without a proper theoretical basis, was not her thing at all. It was like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute, or going on a hike without a compass and a map! Total madness! And yet no one could blame Hermione Granger for not even trying.
The communal shower room at four in the morning was hardly the best place to conduct such important and delicate experiments, but what other choice did she have? Every other part of the castle was almost constantly occupied by other people or portraits, and the abandoned girls' bathroom was, understandably, now off-limits to Hermione. Because of this, she now had to wake up to her alarm at the dead of night so that she could sneak out of the bedroom and spend a few hours exploring her own body in private... or at least try to do so.
To her great disappointment, Hermione soon discovered that no matter how many times she touched herself down there, nothing much was happening. No rising waves. No electricity. Nothing even close to the overwhelming rush of animal lust that had assaulted her entire being just hours after she and Harry had first had sex.
At one point, a terrifying thought had crept into her head, wondering if she was frigid… but Hermione quickly dismissed it as sheer stupidity, at odds with the facts. She wasn't asexual, or she wouldn't have had all these urges to touch her genitals. She just didn't know how to properly express her desire, that's all.
Now Hermione would have given a lot for one of those modern pamphlets on sex education that they kept at home and which she had never shown much interest in before, always putting off for later. So much the worse for her, because now she couldn't even write to her parents asking them to send her the literature she needed! The elder Grangers still didn't know that their daughter was no longer a virgin… Since the day of the ritual, Hermione had written to them several times, but no adequate dialogue had taken place – both sides were too stubborn to give in.
The gist of her mum and dad's letters to her was as follows: "Daughter, you have greatly disappointed us, but we still love you and are ready to forgive you if you will sever all ties with the world of magic and especially with this boy, Harry Potter, and return home immediately to your old school to begin preparing for university!"
If they were already giving her such a harsh ultimatum, how would they react to the "wonderful" news that they would soon become grandparents? They wouldn't… abandon her over it, like Harry's aunt did, would they? Of course they wouldn't do such a thing… but… but what if they would?
Hermione had spent her entire life convinced that her parents loved her unconditionally and would always provide a roof over her head, no matter what, but… what if they weren't? Could they live with the terrible shame of having a pregnant thirteen-year-old daughter? How would they face the neighbors after that? How… how would they explain this to the rest of the family? To Hermione's grandparents? To her aunts and uncles? To her cousins? What would all those people say when they found out? Oh… It will be such a crazy chaos...
Hermione would, sooner or later, actually get pregnant, and then give birth to a baby. She would have a son or a daughter… She would become a mother! But would she still have a place in her own home when she showed up on its doorstep with a baby in her belly? And what about Harry? What would happen to him? Would they live together as a family, or would he be forced to return to the Dursleys, who hated him and would probably try to get rid of him somehow?..
Hermione blinked, snapping back to reality, where Harry was still staring at her with his glowing, eager gaze. He was still waiting for her to do something, or say something, but Hermione's tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth, refusing to obey, held back by the fear that had risen from the depths of her mind, something she usually tried to suppress to the point of complete denial.
However, no matter how hard she tried to stuff it back into the box and throw it away, nothing worked. She simply couldn't escape it, or her future.
"I'm scared," she whispered, barely audible. "I'm really, really scared."
"Are you scared you'll get hurt again, like last time?" Harry asked just as quietly, and Hermione could read genuine regret on his face.
"No. I mean, yes, of course... that too. But..."
"You think... we won't be able to... uh... conceive?"
"On the contrary," she answered honestly, shaking her head. "I'm afraid that we will."
"I don't understand…"
"Harry... oh, damn it!" And then she finally broke down. "How can you not understand?! I'm terrified of this bloody pregnancy! I'm not ready to carry and give birth to babies yet! I can't be a mother! I'm only thirteen myself! And you're only twelve! You and I are both schoolchildren! We don't even have a secondary education yet! How can we be parents?! How do you see all this going to happen, Harry?! My mum and dad... I haven't told them anything, do you understand?! They still don't know anything! Not about sex we had, not about this future child that we are going to create! And when they find out... Harry, I have no idea if I'll even have a home to go back to this summer!!"
"Hermione..."
"Don't you dare tell me everything will be okay, Harry James Potter! Because it will definitely bloody not!" Having screamed this in hysterics, she quickly turned away to hide the tears that had flowed. She was choking, caught up in the flow of negative emotions that gushed from within, as if from a punctured abscess.
Lord, how long had she been storing this up inside herself! And how wonderful it was to finally let it all out, without hiding anything!
"Hermione, I… I feel the same way," Harry admitted after a few minutes. "Except the part about carrying babies, of course," he grinned nervously, "but the rest of it… I know what you're talking about. It all scares me, too. To be honest, most of the time I wonder what the hell I'm even doing!"
"Re… Hic!.. Really?" She tried to stop the hiccups that always came to her when she cried, but it was as difficult as stopping sobbing itself.
"Of course! My head is spinning from all this rubbish! I can't take care of myself, but I have to become a dad for someone?! What a joke!"
"We're… Hic!.. quite the pair, aren't we?!"
"Yeah... But, hey! You know what?"
"Hic!.. What?"
"You could be married to Ron and be Hermione Weasley right now."
"What?!"
Hermione was so shocked by his words that she even stopped hiccupping and stared at Harry, who was now grinning widely at her like the Cheshire Cat.
"Wait, you don't remember? You asked both of us then!"
"I..." Hermione stopped when she realized he was right. She had completely forgotten about it! How could she just forget about it?! Oh, my...
"Yeah. Just imagine, you could have five brothers-in-law right now and another sister-in-law to boot! You'd be related to Fred and George!"
"Oh..."
"And Percy! Ugh!"
"He's not that bad, by the way..."
"Not that bad?! Hermione, the guy literally sleeps with a textbook!"
"Hey! I sleep with a textbook!"
"Yes, but you do it cutely, and Percy doesn't."
"What did he just say?!" Hermione's pulse raced along with her thoughts and emotions, which for the umpteenth time that day had taken a sharp turn and were racing in a completely different direction.
"You… think I'm cute?" she asked slowly.
"Er... yes?" Harry scratched his head, causing Hermione to narrow her eyes suspiciously. She still wasn't convinced that she wasn't being played.
"So you're not sure?"
"What? No! I mean, yes! I mean, I'm sure! You're cute, Hermione."
"I... oh... thank you, Harry."
"He's so lovely..."
"I know you're just telling me this to make me feel better, but still..."
"It's not like that!" Harry interrupted and began to say passionately: "I really think you're amazing, Hermione! And you're… you're smart! You're probably the smartest person I know! Seriously! And you're kind! And generous! You always help other people! And… and… you're really beautiful!"
"W-what? I'm beautiful? Me? You've got to be kidding..."
"Wait, is he serious right now?!"
"I'm not kidding! Your hair is so wonderful! It's so fluffy! Just like Hedwig's feathers, only even softer... I want to touch it all the time!" The more he talked, the redder his face became, but he clearly wasn't going to stop.
"You want to... touch my hair?"
"Yes! God, yes! That's all I can think about! That and how nice you smell! Like oranges and... and something sweet... like honey? Or flowers? I swear, as soon as you walk into class and sit behind me, I don't even have to turn around, I just know it's you! And your skin…"
"M-my skin?"
"I just can't stop thinking about how soft it is and… and pink… and delicate! Like peaches! If peaches could have freckles, I mean…"
The conversation had long since gone off track and into a muddled mess, but Hermione and Harry didn't care. They were both finally saying what they thought, happy to have the weight off their shoulders. As for Harry, he just couldn't seem to stop, going on and on about all the things he liked about Hermione.
"I love your thick eyebrows! And your eyelashes! And your eyes! They are the exact color of coffee… or chocolate… or coffee with chocolate! And when you smile, these sparkles appear in them… Hermione, you have the prettiest smile in the world!"
"But... my front teeth..."
"They're amazing! I'm sure everyone can see that, and anyone who can't is a complete idiot and should keep their useless mouth shut or I'll knock all their teeth out!" Harry was almost growling at the end of his emotional tirade, completely serious in his threat to deal with any potential villain who would dare question the beauty and perfection of Hermione Granger.
It was so silly and adorable that Hermione couldn't help but smile, despite the fact that her entire face, ears, and even her neck were now completely crimson. She had never been complimented so much! No one had ever called her cute and beautiful (except for her own family, but they, of course, did not count)! If it had been someone other than Harry, Hermione would have already known for sure that they were mocking her... However, just one look at the boy's equally burgundy from embarrassment, but very serious face was enough to understand that he was completely honest in his words.
"He really thinks about me like that? Seriously?! It can't be! He thinks I'm attractive? Even with my crooked teeth and pale skin? And my terrible hair with split ends?! But... but why?! "
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"Because it's true! And because you needed to hear it from someone. And also..."
"Also?"
"Because I like you, Hermione! A lot! I think I..."
Hermione's heart pounding, while she waited with bated breath for him to gather his strength and finish his sentence. And he did not disappoint. After several long seconds, Harry took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eyes before saying loudly:
"I think I love you."