Chapter 4: O.M.G.Summary:Remember: I'm playing with the timeline- things will go in a different order and way than canon.
Harry is thirsty. Like, very much.
Lavender Brown should choose 'tactical mastermind' as a profession.
Ginny Weasley needs a reality check.
Hermione is devious. As in professionally so.
Ron is a little eavesdropper.
Someone please stop Horace Slughorn.
Chapter TextThe following week, on Monday, Harry was awake by six. As it was too early to go down for breakfast, he resolved to just be for a while and enjoy the comfort of his bed.
It didn't take long for his mind to start wandering.
Had he really done all of that the previous week? It had all been so fast that he hadn't had any time to process things calmly.
His talk with Hermione had been such a relief. She was way more receptive to his points than he had thought, and surprisingly willing to compromise. The time they had spent together since then had been harmonious and fulfilling. They laughed together, ate together, studied in the library together, and he had even escorted her a couple of times to and from classes he didn't take, when he had the time. He had steadily but subtly -he hoped- increased the number of hugs he gave her, even going so forward as to kiss her on the top of her head on occasion.
Ron had noticeably reduced the time he spent with them, but Harry could swear that Hermione had not caught on to what was going on with the redhead. He had been hogging her, to be honest- and he wasn't even a little bit sorry for it. They hadn't found a moment to go over a plan to train yet, but Hermione had promised to make time for it that night.
There were new things he had noticed. She felt so good in his arms, for one. Hermione had such a big presence that he often forgot she took so little physical space- she wasn't short by any means, more like average height for a girl her age, but he still surpassed her a bit. He hadn't cared before, but he liked it a lot now.
She was also so soft- all soft skin and soft hair and soft curves. For as much as she rarely did any stereotypical 'girly' activities -if such things even existed- she was so very feminine. Her walk, her way of talking and moving, was all very delicate. Not in a pompous way, but in a natural manner that made her stand out effortlessly.
She had the most beautiful eyes. They were chocolate brown and had these beautiful gold flecks, visible only if you stood very close to her. Not to mention, they were big and round, with long dark lashes that drew shadows on her cheeks whenever she closed them. Every time she had looked up at him since that day… Harry shuddered, his mind conjuring scenarios that made his morning wood twitch needily in his sleeping pants.
Lusting after Hermione wasn't the new development he wished it to be. She had been his first wet dream, in fact.
As it had happened while he was still mad at her over the Firebolt, he had been glad not to have her around the next day -or he would have died of embarrassment.
It had happened a few more times along the years, but he had always managed to immediately box it up in a corner of his mind, never to be thought about again.
Now , however, he had given himself permission to wanther in every way- and he found the idea irresistible.
He settled on the 'joke' he had made that first evening.
His mind wandered in time with his hand. He reclined on the pillows, half-seated. One arm behind his neck, while brushing his fingers up and down the happy trail that bisected his abdomen with the other. He thought about the way she felt when they hugged, or leaning against him. How good she smelled, like parchment and vanilla and something naturally her.
Harry imagined sneaking under the Cloak in the dead of night with her body pressed against him, reaching the Prefects' Bathroom in a pile of shared hushed laughter and slight touches. He thought about the sight Hermione would make while stripping to her underwear, two white lacy things he had spied in her trunk once and never forgot about. Maybe after she entered the hot water they would become transparent, just like his wet boxer shorts would conceal nothing from her hungry eyes- but Hermione would insist on at least pretending they were there only for the Golden Egg.
Harry's hand reached the base of his shaft, giving it a firm stroke. By now he was already throbbing, leaking pre-come against his stomach.
He had a hunch she would be a tease. A sneaky tease, prancing around in her little white, wet knickers and pretending to ignore the tent in his boxers- all the while eating him whole from below her lashes.
He would put a stop to the charade, of course. He would lift her against the pool's tiles and urge her to wrap her legs around his hips. He would take a firm hold of the curls at the base of her neck, angling her lovely face to kiss her deeper. He felt like it would be filthy- too much trust and desire there to be tentative and awkward. A tangle of tongues and moans, their lower halves grinding slowly, the pressure delectable.
Harry let go momentarily of his cock and spat on his hand, his only goal being to come as hard as possible. He owed it to Hermione- only the best for her.
God, she would kill him if she heard these thoughts. Or maybe she would like it?
He imagined the feeling of her handful of breasts pressed against his chest, one of his hands going up to play with her nipples. Fuck , he wanted to shred that scrap of lace with his teeth. He had been covertly obsessed with it for a good ten days back in Grimmauld- now he wanted to see it on her, to be the only one ever allowed to take it off.
Harry was breathing hard, imagining the push and pull of Hermione's hips on his, his hand moving rhythmically up and down, twisting the palm of his hand over the tip of his prick for good measure. His other hand went to play with his balls, squeezing and pulling gently- he imagined moving the fabric of her knickers aside, lowering a hand underwater to pet her lightly until she was ready, and then pushing a finger into her little quim- feeling all the heat and slick that belonged on his cock.
"Mi, " he groaned.
He couldn't last more than this. He had just thought about what little noises she would make, when a moan of ' Oh, Harry,' in a much different voice than usual emerged in his mind. It felt like she was whispering it in his ear- he imagined her trembling and panting while he played with her clit, face hidden in his shoulder. She would bite his neck then, cunt spasming on his finger- Harry came, fucking up into his fist. He shoot and milked and sprayed more, white sticky come covering his cock, hand and stomach.
He collapsed back onto the pillow, a slow, satisfied smile on his face.
That was a way to start the day.
Now he only had to make it real- it was time for O.M.G. to officially start.
He hadn't been almost sorted in Slytherin for nothing, after all.
———
They had potions first thing in the morning.
At breakfast he had been the first to arrive. Hermione had arrived uncharacteristically late, but explained it away with reading time getting out of hand. It had given him the chance to surprise her with a ready plate of her favourite breakfast and a cup of tea made just how she liked it. Her smile had been blinding.
The late November cold was biting, and the dungeons were more unwelcoming than ever. That is, until they reached the Potions classroom- Slughorn had a whole different taste in decor and temperature regulation than Snape.
Harry had made sure to carry Hermione's bag again despite her protests, trying to ease her into the idea of leaning on him for support. He wanted to help her at least with these little inconveniences, because he had realised how unbalanced their friendship had been previously. He had been supported and helped by her countless times, and while he had done the same when needed he had never gone out of his way to make her feel appreciated or to reciprocate in kind.
He didn't want their relationship to turn transactional; it was just that being helpful and needed by her felt good. If he removed some weight from her shoulders -in this case literally- in the process then it was a win-win.
That day, Professor Slughorn presented a few different cauldrons, asking the students to identify the potions they contained.
Hermione immediately raised her hand.
"Miss Granger, of course. Come closer, my dear," he gestured grandly in the direction of the display. Harry barely contained his eye-roll at the theatricality.
Hermione started with the first brew on the left. "It's Veritaserum, sir. It's clear and odourless, a powerful serum that forces the drinker to answer truthfully to any questions. There are methods of resistance, but it's still heavily regulated by the Ministry,"
"You are correct," Slughorn clapped his hands once. Hermione approached the second cauldron.
When she saw the contents of it she sent an amused glance at Harry, who was watching her with a slight, proud smile. "Polyjuice Potion, Professor," Harry suppressed a snort, sharing a glance with Ron. They averted their eyes quickly. "It allows the drinker to temporarily assume someone else's physical appearance, as long as they have a part of the person they want to impersonate. It could be a nail clipping, or worse, but most brewers use hair. You can change anything but species by drinking it, and it's a terribly complicated brew," Slughorn beamed, motioning for her to continue.
She approached the next-to-last potion with caution. "Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in existence," the students gasped, especially the girls. Harry noticed Hermione's hesitant gait, curious.
Slughorn looked like the cat that got the cream. "You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"
Hermione nodded. "And the steam rising in characteristic spirals. It causes powerful infatuation or obsession, as true love cannot be fabricated. It's also supposed to smell differently to each according to what attracts us," she took a step closer, breathing it in deeply. "For example, I can smell freshly mown grass, new parchment and- O h -" she stepped away, shaken.
Her wide eyes travelled in Harry and Ron's direction, fleetingly.
"The last one," she righted herself while the Professor began explaining, "is Liquid Luck, or-"
"Felix Felicis," she breathed at the same time as Slughorn, impressed.
"And can you tell me what it does?"
"It makes the drinker lucky for some time, during which everything they attempt would be successful. It's disastrous if made wrong, and it requires six months to brew."
"Perfect, Miss Granger -fifteen points to Gryffindor!" Hermione returned to her seat next to Harry, with strangely reddened cheeks.
Harry was very curious about what she had smelled in the potion that she hadn't said, but knew that asking her would be useless. He listened to the promise of a vial of Liquid Luck to the best Draught of Living Death, and resolved to do whatever was necessary to get it. It couldn't end up in Malfoy's hands.
He shared a glance with Hermione, who turned to whisper in his ear. "Use the book. We've got to get it, Harry. You or me, it doesn't matter. It could make the difference between life and death," she sounded solemn.
Harry nodded, then silently pushed the book between them. "We'll both use it, Hermione. Team effort," he spoke in a low tone, close to her ear. He didn't miss her slight shudder.
"I don't know if I'm comfortable with that, Harry. And we can't be sure all of the changes are safe,"
"They have been until now," Harry shrugged.
Hermione looked torn, biting the corner of her lower lip. "I will do it my way, but if something feels wrong I will accept advice from the book," she resolved. Harry acquiesced, satisfied with their compromise.
He decided to go gather the ingredients for both of them, while Hermione set up their stations. Meanwhile, he passed the Amortentia's cauldron just before Slughorn could seal it shut. Treacle tart, the smell of a broomstick handle, and a unique scent of woody vanilla . Just like he thought, Hermione . It was her perfume. He knew because she had told him her parents sent it to her from Muggle London when he had noticed it first. He smiled to himself, glancing at her.
———
The potion was difficult to make at best, but the Prince's book helped immensely. Hermione had taken the traditional route, but had used a few of the smaller modifications, such as crushing the Sopophorous Bean instead of cutting it.
She took a bit more time, but by the end of the hour both of their potions had achieved the correct lilac hue that meant the potion was halfway done.
In the minutes after he had finished, Harry took the opportunity to observe Hermione. Her hair had puffed out from the fumes, her forehead had a sheen of sweat and she had rolled up the sleeves of her shirt. She looked both adorable and lickable .
Slughorn beamed proudly at them. "I see my best students have decided to work together, and with such results! Only one of my pupils has ever managed to brew a complete Draught of Living Death in an hour, but these are without a doubt the best attempts since then," he presented them both with the vial of Felix Felicis.
"Since you're so close, I guess you will have no problems sharing the prize?" Harry and Hermione shook their heads, beaming at each other. "And thirty points to Gryffindor!", the Professor added. Then, in a tone that should have resulted in a whisper -but everybody heard anyway- Slughorn told Harry, "You have your mother's talent indeed, my boy, but I see you've inherited your father's good taste. Both drawn to brilliance like moths to a flame!" He tilted his head towards Hermione, nodding slyly at Harry. Hermione heard and went completely red.
"Oh no, Professor, we-" Harry didn't let her finish. With reddened cheeks himself, he decided to be more direct with her- or it seemed like she would never wise up to his feelings.
"Thank you, Professor," he just said, his eyes fixed on hers.
Slughorn smiled widely, before motioning to return to his desk. Then he remembered something. "Miss Granger, Mister Potter," he called out. They looked up from the bags they were preparing. "Will you stay a few moments more? I have something to tell you both," they looked at each other, curious but cautious.
"Certainly, Professor," Hermione agreed for both of them.
"Very well. I'm organising a little soirée for my Slug Club students, current and old, and a few other guests on the 16th of December. It will be a Christmas Party, and of course, both of you are invited,"
"Thank you, Professor. We'll be there," Harry replied courteously. Slughorn gave them some more information about the way they should dress and the dances that were more likely to be included before letting them go. After saying their goodbyes, Hermione cornered Harry just past the door of the classroom, into an alcove.
"Since when do you look forward to Slughorn's parties?" She asked.
"Since I figured I can't just go ask him to tell me his deepest, darkest secret. I thought that I could build up to it if I spent some time with him," he shrugged.
Hermione looked at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "That's actually very well reasoned, Harry."
"Always the tone of surprise," he teased. She rolled her eyes with a small smile, amused.
Before she could move from the alcove, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Yes?"
"Would you go with me?" Harry asked, cheeks flaming.
"Where?" Hermione looked confused.
"To St. Mungo's, my back itches lately," he couldn't help but slip into sarcasm. "To the Christmas Party , Mi. Will you be my date?" He asked again, the unfortunate déjà-vu of the time he had asked Cho Chang to the Yule Ball making him cringe.
"Oh," Hermione was surprised. "Sure, Harry. We'll have fun together," she shrugged awkwardly, but she looked extremely pleased.
Harry nodded dazedly. "Brilliant," he exhaled with a dopey smile on his lips.
She said yes .
She was his date. Not Krum's, not Ron's- his. And he would be sure to make it memorable.
———
Ron had observed them a lot. The breakfast Harry had set aside for her, and her bright smile. The way they had worked together seamlessly, while Hermione dedicated less and less time to Ron. It had been jarring enough to see them so in tune for all of the past week, he didn't want any more of it- thank you very much .
But no , bloody Slughorn had to compliment how good they were together, how Harry had his father's taste for brilliant women . Who even said things like that? He had expected Harry to deny, for appearances' sake at least, but the git had gone and thanked the Professor. Ron had never seen Hermione so flustered in his life.
He had hightailed out of there the moment the little spectacle with the Felix-whatever was done, but he had stopped just behind the door to hear what the Professor had to say to them. They probably would've told him themselves, but these days were too unpredictable for Ron's taste and he had wanted to be in the know.
"… a little soirée for my Slug Club… a Christmas Party… both invited," the one time a professor asked for them to stay back they had gotten invited to an exclusive party, of course. And what about Ron? Maybe he could go with Hermione, and the whole Trio could have fun together. But he didn't want to beg to be included. They had to be the ones to make a move-
The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. He saw Hermione push Harry into an alcove on Ron's left, and he caught a few words of what they were saying.
He wished he hadn't, in hindsight.
"…well reasoned, Harry,"
"… the tone of surprise,"
"Would you…"
"Where?"
"…my back itches," what?
"…Christmas Party, Mi… be my date?" It hit Ron like a ton of bricks. Harry had just asked her out.
And what was this 'Mi' thing, now? Didn't he say she disliked nicknames?
"Sure, Harry… fun together," She had said yes .
She was gonna be his date. Not Krum's, not Ron's- Harry's .
And wasn't it a long time coming?
Ron walked away as soundlessly as possible.
———
After a quick lunch, Hermione returned to her dorm for a shower and a change of clothes, still in a daze after the revelations of the morning. Harry, fortunately, had Quidditch practice in program for the afternoon.
She had smelled Harry in the Amortentia. How was it possible? Was she attracted to her best friend?
She had nursed a small crush on Harry in first year, just after the Troll incident, but then she had gone home for Christmas and had seen Hugh Grant in a movie for the first time- that's to say, she had never thought about it again.
Now everything was topsy-turvy. She had noticed the special treatment Harry had given her the whole week, of course, but hadn't thought much about it. Then a Potions lesson had made her aware of her -what? Crush? Infatuation? On her best friend, only for said best friend to ask her out a few minutes later. That was enough for any girl to go mental. She needed a bit of music therapy , as she called it.
The dorm was occupied. Lavender Brown was brushing her long, lustrous hair in front of her mirror, when she noticed Hermione and greeted her. When she received no response other than a vacant stare, she gave her roommate a second look.
Hermione Granger was visibly upset about something, and even if they had never been close Lavender felt it was her duty as a fellow girl to ask about it. She probably wouldn't say anything- her moods often depended on Top-Secret-Harry-Potter-Related-Absurd-Situations , after all, but she could try.
"Hermione?" Lavender approached her slowly. "Everything okay?" Hermione was ready to dish out her usual 'I'm fine' -a habit she had picked up from one Boy-Who-Lived- but for some reason she found herself sitting on her bed, facing away from Lavender and blurting out everything.
"No. Everything is not okay. I sniffed the Amortentia and it smelled like Harry. My best friend Harry. Whom I was not aware I was attracted to, and who has asked me to be his date to Slughorn's Christmas Party the second he learned about it. Who has been hugging me and kissing my hair daily after five years of barely touching anyone. Who has started flirting with me without even batting an eye. No, I'm certainly not okay," Hermione shook her head, unaware of Lavender's dish-sized eyes and floor-length jaw.
Hermione snapped out of it, her hair whipping in the air when she turned towards the other Gryffindor.
"What do I do now?"
Lavender squealed .
———
After she had recovered from the news, Lav -as she preferred to be called- had abandoned everything to sit in front of Hermione, speaking with more seriousness than Hermione had thought her capable of.
"You have no idea how much I have waited for this moment," Lav started dramatically.
"For my existential crisis, you mean?"
"Yes. I mean, no. For the moment you and Harry finallyrealised you were meant to be together," she fanned herself, eyes far away.
"Well, I wouldn't put it exactly like that-"
"I would. Oh, Morgana, you two will be the Couple of the Century,"
"Now you're just exaggerating-"
"No, I am not. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger," she savoured it like a delicacy.
Hermione shook her head. "Anyone who ends up with Harry will be part of the couple of the century," she rolled her eyes.
"No!", Lav almost shouted. "That's simply not true. You two together- that's the definition of a power couple. Do you have any idea of how many fans you have in this Castle?"
"What do you mean, fans ? Are you joking or just on drugs, Lav?"
"What's drugs? No, do not reply. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you have no idea of your social standing," Lav was almost offended. Had Hermione closed her ears completely during the last five years? No matter, Lav would educate her.
"Social standing? I'm the nerd here, Lav, if you hadn't noticed," Hermione was a mixture of sarcastic and incredulous.
"That's where you're wrong. You're the hot nerd . There's a difference," she nodded sagely.
Hermione just looked at her like she was mental. Lavender sighed. "We need reinforcements,"
———
As the Council , as they called it, reunited, Lavender had brought Hermione up to speed.
Apparently inside the Castle she was considered some sort of female, less famous Harry Potter. Her fame had not extended out of Hogwarts, thank Merlin. The mere fact that she was heralded as this Golden Girl had made her want to puke a bit.
Did people not have anything else to do with their lives? She could admit that, from an outside perspective, the mystery of whatever outlandish adventure the Trio ended up in yearly would be interesting. But singling her out with monikers just because she was a girl? That was almost offensive.
Then Lav had reported what people said about her. The fact that they thought about her in the first place didn't sit well with Hermione, but learning that even the professors had a bet going on about which of her best friends she would end up with was unsettling to say the least.
Almost everyone had bet on her and Harry. They even had a couple name, 'Harmony'. Now she really wanted to puke. She wasn't used to this sort of attention at all, but apparently she had been receiving it for years -unknowingly.
As if she hadn't had enough excitement for the day.
———
Lav had tried to drill in her mind the 'every boy wanted her and every girl wanted to be her' philosophy, but Hermione had merely laughed in her face. She really was unaware of her effect on people, Lav thought.
It wasn't hard for a boy to want Hermione Granger -even if it was only to compete with Harry or for her reputation. Not that they would ever approach her, considering how intimidating she and Harry were. But still, she was extremely brilliant, beautiful and had that same air of mystery around her as Harry, so it was inevitable for her to attract notice.
As for the girls, it was more complex. A few wanted Harry and hated her for her closeness to him - and for the fact that he was visibly smitten with her, Lav included in her mind-, a lot of them found her smarts intimidating and her personality unfriendly, mistaking her reserved nature for -well, for being a stuck-up bitch. Nonetheless, everybody with eyes and ears would want her brains and looks. It was obvious. Other girls, most of them Gryffindor or in the DA, found her likeable but not very approachable, because she was always surrounded by her usual circle.
Lav needed to help let the others get to know Hermione, if she didn't want to have a very difficult life as Harry's girlfriend. She was well known as it was, but as his girlfriend she would dearly need supporters.
And what better supporters than Gryffindor girls?
———
The Council had been debriefed on the situation- that meant that both Parvati and Fay now knew her personal affairs, but Lav had said it was necessary, so here they were.
Squeals and cries of excitement aside, the girls had given her invaluable advice.
One, Ginny Weasley had never gotten over her crush on Harry and would probably be an inconvenience until she did -she will have to deal with that if the need arised;
Two, apparently her hair was tameable, she just didn't know the right spells. Well, now she did- forcefully so.
Three, Harry had been interested in her for a while and she hadn't noticed. That was embarrassing- wasn't she his best friend? How come she did not know?
Four, body hair was easily removable with magic, so she could finally put down the blasted razor. Why hadn't she asked before, again? Pav had also reshaped her eyebrows, and she had to admit the change suited her face brilliantly.
Five, Romilda Vane had the intention of dosing Harry with a love potion. Now, Hermione was a pretty levelheaded girl, but if you tried to rape her best-friend-turned-crush then all the bets were off. She had taken some time to explain to the wizarding-raised girls why the use of love potions was abhorrent , and when they realised the danger it posed they were as outraged as she was.
That's to say, Romilda Vane would not get away with it. Hermione's word of honour on it.
Nobody touched Harry -she had a plan and an army of girlfriends now. A threat if there ever was one.
They had decided to reconvene in a couple of weeks, when it would be time for her to buy a dress for the Party. It still felt like an ambush of some kind, if she was being honest.
But a girl had to look good on her crush-slash-best-friend's arm, didn't she?
———
Hermione appreciated and saw the merits of Lav's plan to get the girls on her side- networking, she called it. But she had also found it too time-consuming for her schedule- she didn't have the time to do chit-chat and gossip sessions daily, nor the disposition.
But having people on her side would help a lot. Not in the way Lav imagined -she couldn't care less if someone got pissy over Harry's supposed crush on her- but in the war-useful kind of way. Rallying people together was always a good move, she thought. It strengthened their ties and their loyalties, and if they had some sort of attachment for one another and her it would increase the probability of them fighting for the Light when the time came.
If things went like she wanted, the blood purists would also be shunned indirectly. Not being part of important social occasions would be a blow for them and their foothold in the castle.
It seemed cynical, but it was war . They didn't have the means to think about strict morality- something the Order didn't seem to understand, but that was a topic for another day.
So, she concocted something better .
"Say, have you ever listened to Muggle music?" She asked seemingly out of nowhere.
They collectively shook their heads no. A devious smile played on Hermione's lips when she finite d the Notice-Me-Not spell she had put on the enchanted Muggle VCR.
She flipped through her vast collection of shrunk cassettes, selecting one and silencing the room with an even more devilish smirk.
"This, my girls, is Madonna, "
Hermione had them screaming to Like A Virgin in fifteen minutes flat. To Billie Jean in half an hour. Needless to say, music cassettes were a smashing success.
They all agreed to her plan. So she proceeded to make, duplicate and send the invitations for that evening.
Mission Pink Army was on, and the Council was ready.
———
Harry in the end hadn't needed to talk to Ron. Today he was completely focused on what was happening on the Pitch, catching the Quaffle a good three-and-a-half times out of five. It was a really good improvement, even if he was a lot quieter than usual. They hadn't talked much more than pleasantries since last week -especially because he had been plastered to Hermione as much as possible, he reckoned.
Ginny, on the other hand…
"Ginny, come down a moment?" He landed gracefully on the lawn.
"Yes?" She sounded curt.
"I'm gonna be honest. If you have something else on your mind then fine, I have other Chasers lined up, but you can't stay if you intend to take a panoramic fly instead of playing every time," he went for brutally honest.
Ginny's eyes hardened. "No need," she spat. "I'm gonna play, alright," she took off immediately.
Harry scrubbed a hand over his eyes, already tired.
The rest of the practice went well, if one didn't consider Ginny's newfound love for violent play. He didn't know what to do with her.
When everyone else went to shower he stopped her again.
"Gin," he said more softly. "You know very well that's not the way we play. Madam Hooch will have you out in six minutes flat this Saturday if you don't get your act together-"
"I know, alright!" she almost shouted, reminding him so viscerally of the dream that he flinched.
"I know," she continued more calmly, sitting on the lawn with a thump . "It's just… fifth year is hard and Dean and I are rowing every other day, and then there's you ," she stopped herself, shaking her head.
"Me? What about?" Harry asked.
"Nothing, just that the practices pile up with the other things and- I've been distracted. It won't happen during the game, I promise," she offered.
Harry had a hunch about what was bothering her. It was probably him and Hermione, if he had to guess. He hadbeen obvious in his interest, after all. If they had married in the future -something that would not happen again- that meant her crush on him probably never went away. He had to nip it in the bud, however. He wouldn't risk his future over Ginny Weasley's unresolved feelings.
"I understand. I'm truly not the right person to talk about relationships with, but tomorrow is a new day, mh? Just- maybe try to find a middle ground in… things?" Harry was aware of having offered the lamest comfort in human history, but he didn't know what else to say. He clapped her on the shoulder like he would Ron- and saw her face fall as a result.
He felt like a bastard for purposefully twisting the knife, but he had to make clear that there was no chance for them to be together.
"Do you know the time?" He asked. She nodded, but he didn't even listen to her reply -he wanted to escape the situation that much.
Jesus, he was a dick. "Shit, I'm late. Gonna go shower real quick, Hermione's waiting. See ya later," he turned around before he could see the effect his words had on her.
Tonight he had to further the O.M.G., after all -he had his priorities straight for once.
———
Hermione was indeed waiting for him. The table in front of the loveseat had been covered in papers, and she was sitting on the plush velvet with her legs crossed.
To him, she was a vision. Her hair was tied up in a bun-thing on top of her head, curls escaping left and right to frame her delicate face. Her uniform had been discarded for a -surprisingly dressy, he thought- set of dark jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that showed off her cleavage without being vulgar. Was that lip gloss?
She looked good enough to eat. Had she dressed up for him? His pants tightened at the thought, just as much as his heart swelled.
"Hey, Mi," it was their first interaction since he had asked her out. He sank into his seat, throwing an arm over her shoulders- but still on top of the sofa. He wasn't thatforward yet.
"Harry!" She exclaimed, turning in his direction with a beaming smile. Well, at least she didn't seem to feel awkward around him. Godric, did she think he had asked her to the party as friends ? He would AK himself. Or better not, since there was a possibility he might survive. A Reductor Curse to the ribs seemed like the optimal choice.
Before he could contemplate his death more, Hermione kissed him on the cheek. He went bright red, but tried to play it cool.
The good thing about wooing your best friend was the ease of it. He had always been hopeless at flirting, but with Hermione he had no qualms because she had already seen him at his worst -and stayed anyway. What was a bad joke compared to that?
Before he could recover, Hermione whipped out her wand for a quick silencing charm. "Oh, Harry, I have so much to tell you," she started,
He was curious. They had been apart for what, three hours? "Do tell," he offered.
She turned to face him completely.
"First, I made us a schedule to train, work on the transformation and look through the book without interfering with Quidditch or homework," she proclaimed proudly.
Harry couldn't resist. "When will we train, then? At three in the morning? Because I'll have you know that I have other occupations at that time-" Hermione threw the first scroll of parchment for the night. Her look spoke clearly- no tomfoolery.
"Okay, okay," he acquiesced. Then he moved a bit closer, the goal for the day being to rest his arm directly on her shoulders instead of the sofa. Little steps and all of that.
She proceeded to explain the whole elaborate program she had made, which actually left a good bit of time for relaxation and personal time. He was impressed, really.
Then she suddenly became serious. "Harry, I found out something today," he was worried now. He gestured for her to continue, but took the chance to finally move his arm around her shoulders.
She seemed oblivious to that, but he caught a fleeting glance towards a corner of the Common Room.
Hermione took a fortifying breath. "Romilda Vane wants to slip you a love potion."
He blurted out the first thing that passed his mind. "Who?"
Hermione looked at him for a moment before cracking up with laughter. He was just bewildered.
"I'm sorry -sorry. It's just," she said between giggles, "You had to see your face," he levelled her with a stare.
When she calmed down, she continued. "There's this girl who wants to give you a love potion keyed to herself, but you don't have to worry about it."
"Why wouldn't I? This nutjob wants to drug me-"
Hermione cupped his face gently with her small, ink-stained hand. "Harry," he was entranced by her eyes, leaning on her touch. "Do you think I would ever allow something like that to happen? Especially when I know beforehand?" She smiled, a devious thing he hadn't seen since the Great Marietta Edgecombe Debacle- that smile did things to him. "I have a plan, of course. And… I have help," she released him.
He found himself missing her warmth on his cheek.
"What plan?"
"That you'll see. You'll just have to go along with it," thatsmile again.
"You scare me sometimes," he said breathlessly.
"Good," she replied with a glint in her eyes. He was almost panting by then, but managed to keep himself in check.
"And what help do you have?"
"From the Council. That means Lav, Pav and Fay," she shrugged. "And now me, apparently,"
"You've been introduced into their sacred circle of gossip? Did you have to promise ou- your firstborn?" Harry caught himself in time.
"No, I just had to have a minor mental breakdown in front of- you know, it's not important. What's important is my brilliant plan to ensure us more support in the war," she said, so sure that Harry had to do a double-take.
Then he noticed something. "Did you do something to your eyebrows?"
"Pav had tweezers and the holy art of planning mayhem at hand" she shrugged again.
"They look good. They were already fine, but whate- wait, what mayhem? War support?" Harry realised he was focusing on the wrong part of her statement.
"I may have done something," he adored the sheepish look on her face.
"Mi…" he prompted.
"I missed my Muggle music, okay? So I may have enchanted this VCR I had to work in highly magical locations, shrunk and disillusioned. It wasn't that hard, really, just a modified runic ward and a couple of charms. Maybe twenty. Anyway, what are they going to do? Denounce me to Mr. Weasley?" Before she could go on a tangent, Harry pressed a quick kiss on her forehead.
Red invaded her cheeks and the tops of her ears, but she shut up fast- he had to keep this in mind.
"You're absolutely brilliant, you know that?" Harry said earnestly.
"Thank you," she mumbled, still blushing.
"And maybe you could let me listen to a couple of songs sometimes?"
"I may have enchanted a Walkman, too," she whispered guiltily. "You could have that," she added candidly. Harry burst out laughing.
"Very well, but how does this manage to plan mayhem ?" He asked, amused and endeared at once.
"That would be me," she smiled innocently. "Lav had surprisingly useful insights about… a personal thing, and I showed them the VCR as an experiment. Based on these insights and their reaction to the music, I thought about something. The main reasons why we were losing until that Halloween happened, during the First War, were a lack of numbers and a lack of incapacitating or deadly force. Let's face it, the Order had fewer people ready to fight and put down Death Eaters for a quarter of an hour max, if you do not count Moody and a few others. They would have lost, if you hadn't happened," She looked sad and apologetic for bringing it up, but he only nodded in understanding.
These were thoughts he had mulled over more than a few times, and knowing that Hermione not only would not judge him for them but shared the same opinion was reassuring.
"Dogs with rabies must be put down," he said. Hermione simply nodded, solemn.
"Anyway, that's where the idea struck. The Death Eaters are such a cohesive force because they rally together. They are organised and share social circles depending on what point of the chain of command they are in," Harry nodded slowly.
"We, on the other hand, are scattered, divided. Most of Gryffindor House would fight, yes, but for how long? And why? Would they do it because they believe in the cause, or because they feel obligated? The difference will be noticeable when half the House leaves the battlefield mid-fight, when they don't find in themselves a reason to continue. That's what I'm going to do -rally the girls, at first, create bonds and camaraderie. Share my experiences. The more is shared the better, in terms of battles and fights- give them something to fight for, someone to fight with and something to fight against. It's horrible to plan for children to fight, I know, but we can't win a war alone," Hermione explained. "In the meantime, we will also be socially isolating the blood purists," she added as an afterthought.
"And how would you do that?"
"Parties, Harry. I'm starting tonight with the sixth and seventh years. After the Quidditch match we can celebrate your win, or your loss- it doesn't matter for the purpose- House-widely. The next step will be inviting other Houses to the Room of Requirement, and I'm already working on it. Meanwhile, if we use the Room for both our training and socialising, we can also stop Malfoy from entering it. I know that has been bugging you since you have noticed him disappearing on the Map," Harry launched himself at her, strangling her in the tightest hug he had ever given anyone.
"You're a complete genius. A mastermind. Why hasn't someone given you some prize yet?" Harry said, voice muffled by her curls. Hermione laughed, pleased with the praise. They always meant so much more coming from him.
"I have won a lot of prizes in Muggle school, Harry,"
"Of course you have," Harry muttered, disentangling himself from her semi-alive hair.
"Anyways, do you see any drawbacks in the plan?"
"Yes, wouldn't it be against the rules?" Harry asked, feigning a scandalised expression.
Hermione shoved his shoulder, but responded anyway. "Actually, there are no clear rules on partying itself. We'll just have to bend the ones that could cause problems around it."
"Who are you and what have you done with Miss 'Killed, Or Worse- Expelled' ?"
"She spent five years in your company. Morally corrupting, that's what you are," Hermione lamented, leaning back dramatically on the arm of the loveseat.
"Oh, now I'm corrupting? Shall we recall whose idea it was to brew a restricted potion in the girls' bathroom at twelve years old?"
"I was thirteen, but point taken. What can I say? I have an image to maintain," Hermione smirked.
"That's all it is. An image. In fact, I would pay to see people's faces if they knew the straight-up illegal shit you have pulled over the years," Harry was enjoying this conversation immensely. He always loved reminding her that she wasn't the Perfect Prefect she presented herself as.
"Yes, you're right. I'm a bad influence. You should stay away from me, Cap,"
Harry got an unusually intense look in his eyes. He stared right into hers for a couple of seconds before donning a slight smirk. "Wouldn't stay away even if I could, Granger,"
Hermione tried to diffuse the tension. "Is that a threat, Potter?"
Harry leaned closer. "It's a promise."