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Biding My Time: Our Way	By : watchyerback Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 9795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Disclaimer:
The Potterverse belongs to JKR. I'm just taking the characters out
for a really strange ride. ;) While AFF was down, I posted this story on another site (not sure I can say which site here, but if you look at the reviews someone mentioned it). The story posted on that site goes according to the plot as originally planned. I've had an idea or two since then that takes the story in a different direction. That's what's going to happen to the story posted here. =) To avoid confusion, I've altered the title slightly. From here on in, there will be some differences between the chapters posted there and here.

CHAPTER TEN:

Hermione got
unsteadily to her feet. Her mind burned as she turned and
walked unseeingly towards one of the bookshelves.

Tonks is right,
she realized. There was little that Harry valued above his
friendship with her and Ron. It was something of a sacred thing
to him. Oh, who was she kidding? To all of us.
With Dumbledore dead and Hogwarts virtually closed, it was one of the
few constants left in their lives.

So of course it was
a perfect target for the Solvamus. In her mind, she saw
again how furious Harry had gotten when he’d thought Sirius had
betrayed his parents, his godfather’s close friends. It
was the first time she’d seen Harry with murder in his eyes.
He could easily turn that fury on himself.

“Hermione,
turn `round.”

She
did, and was jolted when she found herself standing a few feet away
from the emerald-eyed boy she’d been thinking about. He
didn’t move, merely studied her carefully as she nervously
stepped back.

She’s
terrified. He shook his head. “You see?”
he asked, but again it was Tonks’ voice that came out. “It
scares you just to be in the same room with him.”

The
fear gradually left the young witch as she realized that the
shapeshifting Auror had merely taken Harry’s form.
“That’s not fair! You surprised me!” she
protested.

“Do
you think it’ll be easier if you knew beforehand?” Tonks
asked skeptically. A wave of her wand sent her borrowed form
shimmering until she was back to her real appearance.

“Do you think
this is easy for me at all?!” Hermione shot back. “Do
you think I WANT to do this? If this were anyone else, I
wouldn’t even - !”

Tears stood in her
eyes as her voice fell to a whisper. “But ... this is
Harry. To give myself to someone who cares so much for me, when
I care for him, too ... to save his life when he’s saved mine
...” the girl continued shakily. “I HAVE to
try, do you understand? Do you think I could live with myself,
if Harry died when I had the means to save him?”

A brief silence
descended between them.

Tonks sighed.
“That doesn’t change the fact that your plan calls for
willingness. If you’ve never even thought of Harry that
way -”

“I ... have.”

The admission was
uttered so softly that Tonks wasn’t sure at first that she’d
heard it.

Hermione was
remembering the dream where Harry had challenged her. All
these years and you never thought about what it would be like between
us? Not once? With most everyone teasing them
at one point or another, of course she had.

She bit her lip.
“During the Triwizard, I ... wondered. Ron (who was
being a total git!) had this insane idea that Harry wanted all
the glory for himself. They had this terrific row, and Harry
and I ended up spending a lot of time by ourselves. There was
even one point when I thought ...”

“One more
time,” she said. “You’re doing the inflection
wrong. Its Accio -”

“Enough!”
In a move that surprised them both, Harry grabbed a nearby book and
hurled it against the wall of the common room. “We’ve
been at this all day and it’s just not working! It’s
nearly one in the morning, just HOURS ‘til the first task,
Hermione! I’m never going to learn the Summoning Charm in
time!” His face was tight and full of frustration.
“What the bleeding hell was I thinking? What the hell am
I DOING? I’m not ready for this ... I’m too young,
I don’t know enough!” Suddenly it began to spill
out, all the anxiety and confusion he’d kept bottled up inside
since Dumbledore pulled his name out of the Triwizard cup.

Normally,
Hermione would’ve chastised her friend for his intemperate
language, but in this case it was easy to understand. Harry’s
scared, she realized as she took a good look at him, and who
wouldn’t be in his place?

Truth to tell, so
was she. The thought of Harry facing a full grown Hungarian
Horntail, with nothing but his wand and a fourth-year’s
knowledge of magic, twisted up her insides. She couldn’t
do a simple “Wingardium Leviosa” now if she ...

The girl’s
head snapped up. Oh of course! Granger, you daft girl
...

“Harry,”
she said softly, “we’re doing this wrong.”
She nodded towards the couch in the middle of the common room.
“Lie down.”

The unexpected
request instantly stopped his tirade. “Huh?”

Her only answer
was a smile, a slow, snarky type of grin with a dash of know-it-all
in it. Harry was thoroughly familiar with it by now, and
although it could sometimes be annoying, today it reassured him.
It meant Hermione had what she sometimes called an “aha!”
moment.

“What is
it?” he asked, curiosity displacing his qualms as he placed his
wand on a side table and lowered himself on the sofa.

“You’ll
see.” She tossed a pillow at him. “Put your
head up on the rest.” When it was done, she stood up next
to the end of the couch. “Comfy? Now close your
eyes.”

He placed the
throw pillow under his head and looked up at her inquiringly,
beginning one of their wordless exchanges. Hermione,
what’re you - ?

Her grin widened
a little. Trust me. Come on, we don’t have all
day.

The boy sighed
and shut his eyes. He heard the familiar rustling of robes and
wondered what she was doing.

And then he felt
her warm hands touch his face. For some reason his breath
hitched as fingertips gently traced imaginary lines across his
forehead, his temples, down his cheeks, until they reached his jaw
and started up again.

“You –
we,” she amended softly, “are too wound up. We
can’t do spells if we can’t concentrate. You’ve
been at this all day. You know what you need to about the
charm. Forget the deadline.” Her palms settled
gently against the sides of his face. “Just let yourself
absorb it, Harry. Relax and listen to me.”

She went over the
intricacies of summoning again. Harry didn’t know how
long he lay there. With his eyes closed, he found himself in a
world surrounded by Hermione - her voice, the reassuring faint
pressure of her hands, the light scent of strawberries. She
recounted the important points of the spell, speaking in tones no
louder than a murmur, and yet he didn’t miss a thing.

“Got it?”
she asked softly.

Harry gradually
opened his eyes, and wasn’t surprised to see her face hovering
just a few inches above his own. So that was the rustling.
Hermione must’ve knelt down so she could better reach him.

“I think
so.” For the first time today he smiled at her.
“Thank you.” He took one of her hands and,
completely on impulse, kissed it. And then he sort of forgot to let
it go.

“Harry?”
This time it was her turn to sound uncertain, because the kiss
on her hand and the expression in his eyes was something new.

“`Mione
...” His voice was husky and his face was flushed.
It would take so little. He squeezed her hand and thought, If
I raised my head a few inches ...

If I leaned down a
little more ... Hermione swallowed, her eyes drawn to Harry’s
lips. Oh Merlin, she - they were actually going to do this,
throw caution to the winds.

BONG!

The two teenagers
sprang apart as the common room’s grandfather clock loudly
chimed the hour.

When it was
finished, Harry and Hermione looked at the clock, and then at each
other. And laughed. Typical, that. But there was
also a bit of relief mixed into it. Not today, then.
Today and probably for the coming days they would still be best
mates. No need to complicate that. Not yet. With
the tournament looming, it was probably better that way.

Hermione went to
the table and handed Harry his wand. “Try it now.”

The boy got to
his feet. He stood in front of the fireplace and glanced at the
objects nearby. He decided to try something easy first.
He raised his wand. “Accio quill!”

To his surprise
the quill launched itself off the table and flew straight towards
him. He caught it just before it went past him.

Harry stared at
the quill disbelievingly in his hand for a wordless second.
Then he looked up triumphantly at Hermione.

The snarky grin
was fully in place. “What’re you waiting for?
Go on, try something else.”

The present-day
Hermione shook her head. Compared to what they’d faced
since then, preparing for the Triwizard Tournament seemed like
nothing now. “But so many things happened ... Harry still
had this big crush on Cho, Ron came to his senses, and Cedric Diggory
died.”

“Which brings
us to another point. What about Ron?” Tonks asked
gently, sure that this was the winning question.

The young witch’s
chin lifted. “I’m going to tell him. He has
every right to know, and it wouldn’t be fair otherwise. I
just hope that he ... understands.” But Tonks could see
by the way Hermione’s eyes glimmered that she thought he
wouldn’t. It was no secret that Ron Weasley had a jealous
streak a mile wide. It was also obvious that the girl cared a
great deal for the redhead and thought she was going to lose him.

And yet she’ll
do this anyway. How in the world did Harry find friends like
these? The Auror knew that she was losing the argument in
the face of Hermione’s determination, but she wasn’t
ready to give up. Mentally she flung every filthy curse she
could think of at Snape and his ilk. Sodding bastards.

“Look,”
she said, “we don’t need to decide on anything tonight,
right? Sleep on it, Hermione, talk to Remus.”

For a second the
girl looked like she was about to protest. Instead she nodded
timidly. “Tonks ...?”

“Yeah?”

“Is
there another way?” Hermione asked in a choked voice.
Just like that, the façade of certainty crumbled, leaving
behind a plainly frightened girl who wasn’t even eighteen.

Impulsively, Tonks
reached out to the teenager and held her tightly. “We’ll
find one, Hermione, you’ll see.” She hoped for
their sakes that it was true.

==================

Much later, when
Hermione had calmed down, she left Tonks and found Lupin in Harry’s
room. Ron had long gone.

She watched as the
professor carefully “drained” the unconscious teenager of
his dreams and stored them in the pensieve. Since Hermione’s
discovery – that the specially crafted pensieve was starting to
siphon off Harry’s memories as well as his dreams – Lupin
and Tonks couldn’t rely on the automated spell they’d
been using up to then. Instead, they began to remove the
Solvamus-fed dreams manually.

The process was slow
and a lot more taxing for the adults, and, unfortunately, no less
dreadful for Harry. The brown-haired girl watched as Lupin
carefully drew the covers around the boy’s trembling form.

“He’s
like a son to you, isn’t he?” Hermione didn’t
know what made her say that. It just slipped out.

Lupin looked
surprised. Then he said reflectively, “In a way, I
suppose. It wouldn’t be hard, having a son like Harry.”
He gave a last tug at the blankets. “He reminds me so
much of James and Lily.”

She hesitated.
“Is he very much like them?” His parents were an
understandably touchy issue with Harry. Although he often told
Hermione and Ron about the discoveries he’d made about his
parents, it was still a long way from getting a real sense of them.

“He favors
James mostly. Same obstinacy, same penchant for getting into
trouble. But he’s got his mother’s luminous green
eyes.” For a second Lupin’s face shone, and
Hermione got a glimpse of the lad he’d been a long time ago.
“You would’ve liked them, I think, though you would’ve
probably gotten along better with Lily than with James. He
could be a prat sometimes.”

“Lily, on the
other hand ... she was considered something of a prize, you know,”
he mused. “Half the lads at school thought James had the
most amazing luck and the other half were just plain envious.
Even Sirius and I envied him, not in a bad way of course. We
were happy for him, but at the same time ...” Lupin
shrugged good-naturedly. “You actually remind me of her a
bit. She was clever, really good at charms and potions, and she
had a sharp sense of humor.”

Hermione shook her
head. “I’m afraid I’m nothing like that.
I’m not popular or anything.”

“I didn’t
say she was popular. I said she was prized,” he
corrected.

“That’s
never been me, either.” It came out a bit more sharp than
she’d intended.

Forgetting himself
for a second, Lupin grinned. “Well, to Harry and Ron you
certainly are,” he said, before realizing how awful that
sounded under the circumstances. “I’m sorry, I
didn’t mean -”

The girl turned
away. “It was the Solvamus.”

“Not true.”
Lupin shook his head. “It’s always impressed me,
this bond that the three of you share. It certainly surpasses
anything we had as the Marauders.” This time it was his
voice that held a bitter note. In the end, it had been a
Marauder who had betrayed James and Lily, and resurrected Voldemort.
“I think Severus picked up on that. He would’ve
been blind not to see it. I noticed it as early as on that
train trip to Hogwarts, and I didn’t even know who the three of
you were.”

“Tell me,”
he asked, slipping into a tone reminiscent of his teaching days at
Hogwarts, “do you know what most people do after a Dementor
attack?”

When Hermione shook
her head, the professor continued, “Nine times out of ten, they
run. Aside from how horrific the attack itself is, the
Dementors leave a trail of invisible dread behind them that everyone
instinctively tries to get away from as quickly as possible.
But that didn’t even cross your minds, did it? There you
were, two thirteen year-olds who’d just witnessed a horrific
attack, bent over this insensible boy.”

“Of course
not.” The young witch sounded indignant. “Harry
was unconscious, we couldn’t just leave him.”

“But that’s
precisely it. Do you know what was even more remarkable about
it? The three of you just went on after that, discussing what
had happened and what to do next as if the attack had been nothing
more than a particularly bad Quidditch match. Oh, you were
shaken by what had happened, but in the end you were more concerned
for Harry.”

Lupin steepled his
hands together and gazed at her over the triangle of his fingers.
“Do you think that just applies to Harry? Do you think
that, if the situation were reversed and the Dementors had gone after
you, the boys would be less staunch or less worried? I heard
about the Triwizard tournament, how Harry wouldn’t leave the
water until he was sure you were safe.”

Hermione had the
grace to blush, but she still pointed out that Harry had waited until
everyone was safe.

“Oh we heard.
Moral fiber,” Lupin intoned with a wide grin. “Sirius
and I felt absurdly like proud parents when we found out. In
that sense Harry’s an improvement on James, on all of us, when
we were that age. Perhaps because life has tried him more.”
He said the last sadly, and Hermione sensed that his thoughts had
shifted to the present.

Strangely, she felt
she had to console him. “Whatever Harry says, it’s
not his fault,” she said in a low voice. “I know
him. I wish he’d been more honest with me, but whatever
his feelings he wouldn’t have done this to anybody. Not
without those THINGS messing up his system.”

Hermione’s
attempt to comfort him was both amazing and incredibly touching.
Lupin spoke softly, “Don’t do it, Hermione. If not
for your sake, then for Harry’s. Don’t give the boy
another thing to regret. If he hurts you, it will be more than
he can bear. I may not know him as well as you do, but I know
Harry enough to be sure of that.”

Hermione gazed at
him, and then at the dark-haired boy. She stepped closer to the
bed and hesitantly stretched out a hand. “You told Harry
about the potion.”

Lupin guessed that
it was the first time the young witch had dared to touch the boy
who’d attacked her. He found himself holding his breath.
“Yes.”

Hermione lightly
grazed Harry’s motionless left hand with a fingertip.
He’s so cold. When she stepped away, the figure on
the bed seemed calmer somehow, the rise and fall of his chest even
and sedate. “But not about the deadline. Not that
in a week he could die, or go mad.”

The older man
hesitated. “No.”

“But you told
me.”

His stricken look
was answer enough.

When Hermione spoke
again, her tones were a strange mix of sadness and coldness. Even
though she addressed Lupin by his honorific, they both understood
that she was now speaking to him as an equal. “Understand
one thing, Professor. I don’t want to do this.
No girl in her right mind would. I’ve struggled against
it; I never even wanted to mention it. So the fact that I have
means that I’ve attacked it with every argument I could think
of, both logical and emotional, and in the end they all lost to a
single consideration: I don’t want Harry to die or to go
insane. And I’ll throw in another one that the Order will
understand: We can’t let Voldemort win.”

“Maybe you
didn’t tell me so it would come to this, but it’s done. I
can’t pretend that I don’t know, and I can’t act as
if I never thought of a way to save him.” She paused, and
there was a faraway look in her eyes. “We – Harry
and I - once talked about what it meant, that we’re in a war
now. If we lose ...” A shudder passed through her.
Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first – that’s what Malfoy
had said a long time ago.

“If there is
another way, trust me, I want to be the first to hear about it.
But in the meantime, we need to discuss my idea with Snape’s
predecessor ... hypothetically, if possible. We need an
objective opinion. Will you do that for me, Professor?”

Lupin could only
nod, his throat tight as Hermione said goodnight and departed.
Why was he so surprised, he thought, that the girl had figured out
the consequences and was doing her best to face them squarely?

He and Sirius had
found themselves discussing the trio once, analyzing them
individually. They both loved Harry, were fond of Ron, but
every time they came to Hermione, Sirius would break into one of his
rare smiles. “You should’ve seen her, Moony.
Stepped right between me and Harry in a flash, and me looking exactly
like a crazed killer escaped from Azkaban. She’s going to
be something, that girl.”

Lupin nodded.
Hermione was an amazing student. “Yes, she’s so
smart and -”

“Oh that’s
not half of it!” Sirius interrupted, leaning forward.
“She was scared, flying around on Buckbeak and even facing me.
It’s not like Harry and Ron, half the time they go in like we
used to, half-cocked and consequences be damned, you know?
That’s not how the girl works. She minds, you can see it,
but she doesn’t let it stop her. That one doesn’t
stop thinking, Remus, not even when she’s frightened.
You mark my words, she’s going to be a formidable witch one
day.”

After what had just
happened, Lupin didn’t quite agree. “You were a bit
off, Padfoot,” he whispered to the darkness. “Seems
to me that she is already.”

===============

That
night it was Hermione’s turn to dream. It was set in the
past, but she sensed immediately - the way you simply knew in dreams
- that she and Harry were a mix of their past and present selves.

“Do
you have a minute, Hermione?” Harry’s face was
grave as he waited for her to get up. It was Friday and, like
everyone else, he had shirked his school robes for casual clothes as
soon as the last class was through.

The
brown-haired girl glanced up at him. She’d been sitting
on the steps with some of the younger Gryffindors. She noticed
fleetingly that she and Harry had both chosen muggle wear again,
jeans and comfortable shirts and, in Harry’s case, a light
hooded jacket. She excused herself, and pretended not to notice
the knowing looks and titters as she joined the famous bespectacled
youth. Without needing to discuss it, they slowly headed away
from the crowd of milling students.

Funny
how things turned out. Hagrid had once called the three of them
the most pitiful bunch of misfits he’d ever laid eyes on.
Now look at them. She, a muggle-born, was a prefect and
promising candidate for Head Girl no less, while Ron was prefect and
Quidditch Keeper, and Harry ... well everyone knew who Harry was, and
not because he was captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

They
walked quietly side by side for awhile. Harry had a tight nervy
look on his face and his fists were crammed into his jacket.

Only
when they were far from everyone did Hermione speak. “Why
didn’t you tell me?”

He
didn’t even try to pretend that he didn’t know what she
was talking about. “Is it really so hard to understand,
Hermione? I didn’t want to ruin the way things were, and
I didn’t want to get between you and Ron.” It was
much the same explanation he’d given her earlier. “And to
be completely honest, half the time I wasn’t sure what I was
feeling. We’ve been friends for so long, and I’ve
always felt strongly about you. It was just ... easier not to
define that.”

“And
you’re sure now?” she asked caustically.

Harry
stopped and turned towards her. They were by the lake now, and
he scuffed his shoe on the stony bank. “Do you remember
when we went off to rescue Sirius at the Ministry?”

She
nodded.

“You
nearly died,” he said in a whisper. “From the
moment you were hit, it was like everything shut down for me.
Nothing else mattered until Neville told me you were alive. But
then Sirius died and I ...” He swallowed. Even now,
talking about his godfather left him aching. But at least he
could talk about Sirius now. He could still barely speak
Dumbledore’s name.

Instinctively,
and because this was a dream, Hermione reached for his hands the way
she used to. “I’ve always wanted to tell you how
sorry I was about Sirius. I know how much you loved him.”

Harry
bent his head. “You shouldn’t be sorry. You
helped me save him once, and you tried to again at the Ministry.
He admired you a lot, my godfather. He said you were smart and
had a lot of spunk ...”

She
smiled at that. ‘You really are the brightest witch of
your age.’ It was one of the grandest compliments she had
ever received and coming as it had from a normally taciturn wizard,
well ... Sometimes, when Hermione was feeling discouraged,
she’d bring that memory out and bask in it a bit.

“...
and that I was a brainless git if I settled for less than that.
He caught me agonizing over Cho, you see,” Harry explained.
He looked down at their joined hands. “He saw right
through me. I should’ve listened to him.”

She
didn’t know what to say. She was about to pull away when
he spoke again.

“What
would you have done, Hermione, if I’d come to you like this and
asked you out?” he asked abruptly.

This
time she did pull away, but he only let go of one hand. “Harry,
I asked Ron - ”

He
interrupted hurriedly, “Not at this time you haven’t.
Don’t you remember this day? This was before you asked Ron to
the Slug Club party. Before me and Ginny,” Harry
explained in a patient tone. “Ron was finishing something
and we were waiting for him in the courtyard where all the other
students were. I was razzing with Neville and Seamus, and you
were surrounded by this admiring group of third years. You
looked so earnest talking to them and suddenly I thought, ‘I
could do it now. Just walk over and ask. The worst she
could do is turn me down.’”

He
shook his head regretfully. “In the end I didn’t
because it felt like the whole of Hogwarts was looking over my
shoulder,” he explained. “After years of denying
dozens of rumors about us, well ... and then you asked Ron to the
party, and I saw Ginny with Dean ...”

“You
can’t tell me you regretted being with Ginny!” Hermione
exclaimed.

“No,
being with Ginny was one of the best times of my life. For
awhile, it felt like life was ... normal,” he said wistfully.
“But however much I want it to be, my life’s not normal,
is it? And it doesn’t change the fact that I should’ve
asked that day. I wish I’d tried and found out about us
first.” Suddenly green eyes locked gazes with brown.
“If I had, Hermione, what would you have said?”

The
girl fought the urge to look away. She’d forgotten how
disconcerting it could be, being at the receiving end of one of
Harry’s challenging, young/old, emerald stares.

It
had been there even when they were kids newly arrived at Hogwarts,
she thought. It had taken her awhile to understand how an
eleven year old could look so sad. Over the years it had just
gotten worse. ‘I’ve seen death,’ those eyes
said now, the same ones that saw thestrals where most people only saw
air, ‘and sometimes it comes looking for me. But I won’t
give up hope.’

“I
...” What would she have said? She would’ve
been taken aback, but would she have turned him down? “I
don’t know. Probably sit there stunned for a bit,
mortified that you’d ask in front of the whole school.”

Surprisingly,
Harry grinned. “Nice answer, Ms. Granger, but a tad
evasive I think. What would Professor McGonagall say?” he
asked in mock shock.

She
couldn’t believe he was actually teasing her! It was as
if they were really back in their last year at Hogwarts. “I
believe I’m free not to answer, Mr. Potter, since it was a
purely hypothetical question,” she said in her best
schoolmarm’s voice.

“Alright
then.” There was a nervous tone in his voice, and
suddenly the young witch knew exactly what was coming next.
“Hermione, would you like to go out with me? Lunch this
weekend at Hogsmeade?”

And
just as she expected, she found herself tongue-tied. “I -
goodness!”

“Is
that a no?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“No.
I mean, yes! I mean – you’re laughing at me, Harry
James Potter!” she fumed indignantly.

“Sorry!”
he managed to gasp. His eyes were tearing over from the effort
to stifle the merry sounds rising from his throat. “It’s
just, I knew I’d be nervous. I never once thought you’d
be, too.”

“I’m
not nervous, you twit, I’m stunned!” Hermione exclaimed.
“You realize those words just changed everything between us?”

Serious
now, she withdrew her remaining hand. “I probably
would’ve gone out with you, Harry,” she added quietly.
“I would’ve,” she repeated, “and if it hadn’t
worked out, or worse, if it had, things would’ve been
completely awkward from then on.”

“Because
of Ron,” he muttered.

“Because
of the three of us. Oh Harry, it’s different when
somebody likes you, you know that. Then you’re not best
mates anymore, are you? You can’t act around a bloke the
same way when you know - and everyone else knows - that he likes
you.”

He
looked at her in disbelief. “You’re joking.
What do you think I’d do? Jump you if you take my arm?”

“Of
course not!” she denied immediately, forgetting for the moment
that that was almost exactly what he’d done. “It’s
just that you can’t do certain things because it can all be
misconstrued. Oh for pity’s sake!” she exclaimed in
exasperation, because his expression was still indignant. “Are
you daft? What would you think if another girl acted like that
with you? Wouldn’t you think that she liked you?
And if it turned out later that she didn’t in that way, if
after that she turned you down, wouldn’t everyone else think
that she – that I - was leading you on?”

Harry
pursed his lips. “I never thought about it like that.”

She
rolled her eyes. “Sometimes you’re just as thick as
Ron.”

“Maybe.”
He averted his gaze at her second invocation of Ron’s name, but
this time Hermione caught the glint in his eyes.

Jealousy?
But Harry back in all their years at Hogwarts had never shown
jealousy. Unless ... She placed her hands in her
pockets and studied him closely. “This isn’t a
dream, is it?” she asked flatly.

He
had the grace to look embarrassed. “Not exactly.
Wait!” as she stepped back, poised to flee. He held up
his hands placatingly. “I didn’t plan this,
Hermione. I don’t even know how I got here, but now that
I am, please ... You’re not in danger. The Solvamus - I
don’t know why, but I think I’m free of it here.”

“Get
out of my head, Potter,” she demanded tightly.

“Please,
you have to listen - !”

“No.
NO!” The girl was both furious and fearful, an explosive
combination. “First you take advantage of me, and now
you’re in my head! I don’t have a single reason to
do anything you ask,” she spat.

“I
know, but please,” he begged, “trust me on this –“

“That’s
just it,” she cut in again. “I don’t trust
you, Harry! Get OUT!”

The
words seemed literally to stun him. Harry tottered as if
he’d just received a nasty blow to the head, and it was all he
could do to stay on his feet.

His
throat moved soundlessly, but in the end his shoulders slumped in
defeat. “S-sorry,” he whispered, and it was obvious
from the way his voice shook that he was trying not to break down in
front of her. “If – if you ever change your mind
... just call me ...” He gave up as his voice cracked.
Without another word, he turned and sprinted away.

Her
heart pounding, Hermione watched him flee. He looked so small,
she thought, as if he had had all the fight torn out of him.
It surprised her that she was near tears herself. There was
a painful feeling in her chest and she didn’t know why.
She could only think: I did that. I said the one
thing neither of us ever thought I’d say ...

And
then the next thing she knew she was waking to the sound of somebody
pounding on her door. She grabbed her wand.

“Hermione,
you awake? It’s Tonks. Sorry `bout this, but we
need the three of you in the library, right away.”

With a
sigh of relief, the girl reached for a robe. “Coming,”
she mumbled loud enough for Tonks to hear. She stifled a yawn,
then abruptly froze. Had she heard right? The three
of them?

Heart
pounding, Hermione tightened the belt on her robe. They had not
been together since she and Ron had drawn Harry in from the roof.

Had it been
real? Or was it just a dream? She knew she was about
to find out.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Biding My Time: Our Way