Chapter 5

Harry was whistling. Badly. Perhaps if his childhood had consisted of less time battling evil henchmen and nefarious rodents, and more time playing outdoors during the sunlit days of summer, he might have been able to carry a recognizable tune. Or, at the very least, sustain a note for longer than one second before it wheezed and wandered into a musical void.

But Harry was oblivious to the aural damage he was inflicting on others. He was happy, and as he walked through the hallways of Hogwarts, he found himself content to whistle with a smile on his face.

"Well, someone's in an awfully chipper mood," Hermione announced to her walking companion.

Harry stopped whistling to glance down at her upturned face, catching himself before he started staring at her full lips quirked into an impish grin. Instead, he readjusted the strap of her book bag across his chest and threw an arm about her shoulders as they walked to the Great Hall. "How could I not be?" he asked in response to her statement, getting in a quick squeeze that caused her to laugh as she stumbled a bit into him. "It's Halloween! One of the few days in the year when we'll actually see that rarest of sights, a Ron stuffed to the gills with food!"

At that, Hermione snorted. "Can you believe he was actually planning out his dinner during breakfast? Sometimes I think he loves food more than anything. I wonder what Ron's perfect girl would be like? Made entirely of meat pasties, perhaps?" she asked with an entirely unladylike guffaw.

"With an alabaster, mashed-potato skin?" Harry added with a snicker.

"And, of course, chocolate biscuits for eyes!" Hermione finished with that deep, pure laugh of hers that Harry had come to adore. "But then again," she added, "it's not fair to pick on Ron alone. I think the saying 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach' probably goes for all the boys I know," she finished with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry responded with as much nonchalance as he could muster. "Not all guys would be seduced by a mashed-potato girl, you know."

"Oh really?" she asked with a teasing grin as they reached the large doors of the Great Hall — a door that Harry was quick to open for her.

"Really," Harry responded, pleased with how not-awkward he sounded. "Some guys are lucky enough to know who their perfect girl is in real life. Maybe even be friends with her. After all, we don't all stay hopeless eleven-year olds forever."

At Hermione's curious glance, Harry fought to not do a victory lap around the hall. That last bit had actually been better than simply not-awkward. It may have been slightly cool. He wasn't entirely sure what it meant to be suave, but he thought he might have even treaded on suave-like ground.

As they took their seats at the table, a quick glance ensured Harry that Michael was already safely ensconced by a chattering Fiona. Harry couldn't help the small grin that escaped him. When he had first met Fiona he never imagined that they would become close, but since that day he had talked to her about her parents she had actually become the little sister Remus had intended for her to be. And she had since attached herself to Michael (in "solidarity" with her big brother, as she had put it), allowing Harry with more private time with Hermione than he had had since returning to school.

Fiona saw Harry grinning at her and gave him a quick wink before grabbing Michael's arm and asking some question about their Potions assignment.

Harry tried to smother his laughter at Michael's confused expression. How did girls do that, he asked himself. He had never told Fiona about his feelings for Hermione—he hadn't even told Ron about it, for goodness sakes. But somehow the girl had figured it out, and decided to help her big brother in his "quest for love."

Shaking his head at her romantic declarations, he glanced over at Hermione, who was wearing that thoughtful, quiet expression he knew so well. Were there any real good-luck charms for love, he wondered, because he certainly needed all the help he could get. Hermione was normally so smart! As he watched her chew at the inside of her cheek, Harry sighed. Even Fiona had figured it out.

"I know," Ron interjected from across the table, misinterpreting Harry's sigh of longing. "I'm starving, too! When's the feast going to start, I'm about ready to pass out!"

Of course, Ron was immediately satisfied when the table was suddenly covered with platter upon heaping platter of food. Harry only wished that his own issues could have been solved so easily.

Harry soon enough felt foolish for his near-gloating earlier that night. He and Hermione were making their way back to the Gryffindor common room in near-silence, having been abandoned by Ron who had left the feast earlier to "recuperate" on his favorite sofa. Gone was their earlier joking, as Harry could see that Hermione was almost entirely preoccupied with her own thoughts. And to hear the occasional shrieks of laughter echoing through the corridors from other students still enjoying their Halloween, only seemed to highlight everything that was all-so-wrong about their current situation.

If he could have kicked himself with no one the wiser, he would have. Here he was, alone with her, and aside from carrying her book bag yet again, he was doing nothing to help his cause. If Hermione were to look any more gloomy, she'd be right at home at a funeral. Not exactly the setting for romance, he acknowledged, as the only funeral he'd ever attended had ended with him breaking up with Ginny.

Good lord, just say SOMETHING, you git! And in desperation, he said the first thing to pop into his head. "Oh! Hey look, Hermione, we're near the toilet!"

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks to stare at him. Harry realized what he had just said and suddenly wished he were dead.

"The toilet?" she asked, the confusion evident on her face.

"Er, yeah, the toilet," Harry stammered. "You know? From Halloween, first-year? There was a troll? And Quirrell? And the stone? And that troll? It was really big?"

Hermione's eyes softened and she grabbed his hand in her own. Harry might have wished that his own hand was slightly less clammy (and more suave), but he didn't question his sudden good luck.

"I remember," she replied, as her whole face softened and Harry had to remind himself that breathing was a really important process. "How could I forget? That's the day I went from being alone to being the luckiest girl in the world."

"No, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "That day, I became the luckiest gir—I mean guy in the world."

This wasn't how he imagined it. It certainly wasn't very cool or suave, potentially laying your heart on the line outside of a girls' loo. In fact, it made the whole funeral scenario seem that much more appealing in contrast. But this was where it was going to happen.

"That day," Harry continued as he took Hermione's other hand, "that day changed my life. For the better. So much better. This is our seventh Halloween together, and I don't even want to imagine that we won't always be together on this day."

Harry knew that last sentence was confusing, but Hermione was a smart girl; she would understand him, right? He could see that Hermione's eyes were filling with tears, but they didn't really seem like bad tears.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered, "I don't want that to ever happen, either. You and me, we should always be together, don't you think?"

"Definitely," he whispered back. And when she smiled at him, he knew that that was the moment he had been waiting for. And so, still holding her hands in his own, he dipped his head forward and she did the same. Without even being aware of it, his eyelids fluttered shut, just as his lips touched hers.

It was probably a good thing that his eyes were closed, or else he might have died from sensory overload. Her lips were so soft and he could feel her warm, sweet breath as they stood there, holding hands and their mouths gently exploring as they stopped being just friends, and instead became Harry and Hermione.

His heart beating in ears, he was slightly bewildered when Hermione pulled away, but a huge smile broke out over his beaming face when she lifted her hands to wrap her arms about his neck, bringing her body that much closer to his own. "That wasn't bad," she whispered, a naughty grin appearing on her own face.

"Maybe a little more practice?" Harry asked. This time he was positive that he was being extraordinarily suave.

"Definitely," she replied with a wink.

And then, just as Harry brought his head closer to plant the romantic snog to end all snogs onto the girl of his dreams, the strap on Hermione's book bag broke, causing Harry's head to jerk back and forth. This culminated in him giving Hermione the most romantic head-butt to ever grace the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

"AAARGH!" "OW!" both teenager yowled as they clamped their hands over the nicely-developing red spots on their foreheads. But before Harry could be horribly embarrassed, Hermione burst into peals of laughter.

Harry couldn't help but laugh as well as he gingerly probed his bump with his fingertips. "Well," he finally quipped when Hermione's laughter had died down, and he gestured to all of her scattered books and her broken bag that he still held in his hand, "don't let it be said that I don't know how to show a girl a good time."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione murmured with a special fondness in her voice that made shivers run down his spine. And then she quickly pulled out her wand, murmured a charm, and her bag reassembled itself as all her books quickly flew into it. She then reduced the entire bag, and with a mischievous grin, tucked the whole thing into Harry's pocket.

It took a stunned Harry a moment to get over the fact that Hermione Granger had just put her hand in his trousers, when something finally registered. "Hey, wait a minute!" he cried out. "Why did you let me carry that monster of a bag all over this castle when you could have done that at any time?"

Hermione just tutted at him and drew her arm through his as she started herding them back to the common room. "And did it never cross your mind that you could have done the very same thing?" At his puzzled expression she couldn't help but giggle. "Though, I have to admit that I don't like using charms on books. It just feels wrong, somehow. And besides," she added with what Harry decided was an adorably coy glance at him, "maybe I enjoyed having you carry my books for me."

Harry smiled as he twined his fingers with hers. "Maybe I enjoyed it as well. I guess I should thank Michael for giving me the idea."

Hermione laughed. "See? He's not so bad, is he?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever. He just better learn to keep away from my woman."

"Your woman?" Hermione repeated in mock-outrage, playfully shoving at his arm with a grin. "You better watch out, Mr. Neanderthal, I happen to be of the independent sort."

"I know," Harry replied before pulling her into a bit of an alcove just before the Fat Lady's portrait. "I like it."

Hermione would have giggled in response, but found herself to be too busy kissing her new boyfriend to do much else other than sigh and wrap her arms around him.

Finally, breathless and flushed and too disoriented to realize how long they had been snogging in the hallways, they pulled apart. With a gentle smile, Hermione took his hand and pulled him through the portrait hole. Harry held onto her hand and looked forward to a night on one of the squashy chairs in front of the fire with Hermione finally in his arms.

"Harry! Hermione!" a shrill voice immediately cut through his daydreams, and Harry was startled to see Fiona running towards him, worry plainly written all over her face. "It's Michael," she explained. "He came in here a little while ago and he seemed really upset. He went up to his dorm for a bit, but then ran out of here. Did you see him in the hallway?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other as the likely reason of what had upset Michael began to dawn on them. "Uh, no," Harry answered, a flush rising on his cheeks. "We didn't see anyone else," he finished with a guilty expression.

"What's all the noise?" Ron groggily asked, roused from what appeared to be a deep nap on the sofa.

"It's Michael, he's upset and has run off," Hermione answered, the worry obvious in her voice.

"Michael? I think I saw him," another voice interrupted and they all turned to see Quintus entering the room. "I was walking back from the greenhouses and I thought I saw him over by the edge of the Forbidden Forest."

Harry heard Hermione gasp as her hand tightened around his own.

"We have to find him, Harry!"

Harry nodded as Ron ran off to find Lupin and tell him what had happened. "You two stay here," he ordered Fiona and Quintus before running out of the room with Hermione quick on his heels.

Fiona and Quintus just looked at each other and Fiona let out a loud sigh before asking the boy, "Do you think Halloween is always like this at Hogwarts?"

"Michael! Michael!"

The cry echoed in the gloomy wood as Harry and Hermione searched the nearest edges of the Forbidden Forest.

"He's not here," Harry announced, a grim expression on his face. "We're going to have to go deeper in, so let's stay close together."

Hermione simply nodded and increased the light streaming from her wand. "We have to find him, Harry. He can't handle himself out here."

"Don't worry, Hermione," he said, trying to reassure her as he gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Ron and Lupin will be here soon and we'll find him any minute."

They entered deeper into the forest, calling out the boy's name, when they suddenly heard a scream. "That didn't sound like Michael," Hermione shouted to Harry as they sprinted off in the direction of the continued shrieking. "It sounded like a girl."

The two of them tore through the brush, to suddenly skid to a halt. Before them was a precipitous and rocky gully that cut through the forest. And on the other side of the steep ditch, Harry could see Michael. But not just Michael, but Fiona and Quintus as well. "How did they get there!" he snapped, the frightened anger evident in his voice as he stared at the three children who had their backs to the gully and were pointing their wands at something in the shadows.

"Oh, my god! Harry, look!" Hermione cried, directing light from her wand to illuminate whatever had the children so frightened. Harry's face went white as he saw hundreds of acromantulas crawling towards the three stranded first-years. Harry could see that they were only baby spiders, but the sheer numbers of them were dangerous enough as it was.

Alerted by Hermione's light, Fiona turned towards them, the terror clear in her eyes. "HARRY!" she screamed, before turning back to the spiders, trying to blast them as best as she could.

"Incendio!" Harry shouted, and a streak of fire shot out of his wand, creating a barrier of flames between the children and the spiders. "Quickly, Hermione, move them!"

Hermione nodded and pointed her wand first at Fiona. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she shouted, and with a frightened shriek, Fiona was quickly levitated and Hermione motioned with her wand to bring the terrified girl to the safe side of the gully.

The girl thumped to the ground, for Hermione didn't have time to be gentle, as she knew that Harry was expending a lot of effort to create and contain his wall of fire. She quickly brought over Michael and then Quintus, allowing Harry to release his spell. "Quickly!" Harry ordered. "We have to get out of here fast. I don't want to think about what else in this forest that fire attracted."

With that, Harry grabbed Fiona and Quintus' hands, and they all ran as fast as they could. He could see Hermione and Michael at his side, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the edge of the forest ahead of him.

The group ran out of the woods and collapsed onto the grounds of the school, all five breathing heavily, and the younger ones fighting to hold back sobs of fright. Harry looked over to Hermione and smiled in relief, grabbing her hand to reassure himself that she wasn't hurt.

"Harry! Hermione!" Ron's voice broke through the night, and Harry could see his best friend running towards them, with Lupin and McGonagall following closely behind. "Thank god you're all right!" he shouted, relieved to see his best friends. And if he was confused to see Harry holding onto Hermione, he didn't let on other than with a raised brow. "And Quintus? And Fiona? What are you two doing here?"

"A very good question, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall interjected. Both Fiona and Quintus winced at her tone. "One that we will have answered soon enough. For now, I want all of you in the hospital wing immediately. Madame Pomfrey needs to examine you straight away."

With a resigned sigh, Harry helped Hermione up. All he wanted to do was hold her to him, but that would have to wait. As he watched Lupin assist Michael with what appeared to be a broken arm, he sighed again. It would have to wait, all right. There were some things Harry had to straighten out, first.

Harry peeked around the room divider to see Michael laying still in the hospital bed. The rest of the group had been allowed to go back to their own rooms for the night, after Madame Pomfrey had given them a salve for some minor cuts and bruises. But Michael had in fact broken his arm, along with some other injuries, and would have to stay in the hospital wing for a couple of days.

Harry sighed. He wasn't looking forward to this, but it had to be done. "Knock, knock," he announced as he walked around the divider to sit at the chair by Michael's bed. "Pomfrey said you could have some visitors, so I thought I'd come by to check on you."

Michael glanced at Harry, and it was the first time that Harry could remember the boy looking at him without any hostility.

"I suppose I should thank you for saving my life," Michael whispered, the embarrassed flush on his cheeks causing Harry to forgive his slightly less than gracious admission.

"No problem," Harry responded. "If you knew all the crazy stunts I had pulled when I was your age… Well. Hermione would kill me for telling you those stories. But let's just say that I've had a lot of help from different people over the years, so me helping you and the others is kind of like me paying them back. When you're a seventh-year, maybe you can do the same for some other first-year."

"Thanks," Michael whispered, looking down at his fingers plucking at the bed sheet. "I guess you think I'm pretty stupid to have run off like that."

Harry sighed and leaned back into his chair. "Oh, I don't know. We all do stupid things. Especially when there's a girl involved."

At that, Michael's head snapped up and he looked Harry in the face. "What do you mean?" he asked, nervousness shining in his eyes.

Harry gave him a rueful smile. He couldn't be angry with him. He was just a kid. "Oh, I don't know," he began in a calm, neutral voice. "I was thinking that maybe you saw something that upset you. Something about Hermione and me? And I can understand that. I mean, she's a pretty amazing girl. I can't believe that I'm lucky enough to be the guy that she's with."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael answered with a blush, as he went back to staring at his fingers. "I mean, yeah, Hermione's great and all, but she's really old. I'd have to be crazy to have a crush on her. That would be really stupid of me, wouldn't it?"

Harry's heart softened as he heard the pitiful tone of Michael's last statement. A first crush was a milestone. He thought back to his own first crush on Cho. Milestones shouldn't always have to marked with embarrassment. "Oh, I don't know," Harry answered. "I don't think it's all that stupid. I think it shows pretty good taste, if I say so myself. I mean, it's not like we're talking about Millicent Bulstrode, here."

At that, Michael did give a snort of laughter. "You won't tell Hermione, will you?" the boy asked, still refusing to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry shook his head. "Nah. She's just glad you're in one piece, you know? That's all she cares about." Harry stood up from his chair. "So, is everything good? Because there are some more people out in the hallway that want to see you."

Michael was silent for a moment longer before looking up. "You really care about her, right? I mean, you're going to treat her well?"

Harry worked to keep the smile off of his face and to respond with the seriousness that he knew Michael needed to hear. "Yes, Michael, I'll treat her well. She's the one."

Harry was a little surprised to hear himself say that last part, but knew it was true the moment in came out of his mouth. She was the one.

At that, Michael nodded. "You're a really lucky guy. I hope you know that."

"Believe me, I know," Harry answered and went to the door to let the other visitors in. As soon as the door was opened, Fiona went rushing to Michael's bed, soon followed by Quintus. The girl soon had Michael smiling, and Quintus was availing himself of the copious amounts of candy that was sitting at Michael's bed-side table.

Harry smiled as he watched the three first-years laugh off their first adventure. Hermione made her way to his side and wormed her way under his arm as Ron approached his other side.

"Huh. It looks like they're best friends in the making," the red-head announced as he threw some pilfered Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans into his mouth.

Hermione grinned. "Well, there are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other. And I guess escaping a horde of acromantulas is one of them."

Harry pulled his arm tighter around her shoulder. "In that case," he added, "I guess they're off to a great start."

"A wonderful start," Hermione agreed, her sparkling eyes trained on his own.

"Good lord," Ron announced with a theatrical groan as he steered them out of the hospital room and towards the Great Hall. "Save your lovey-dovey cow eyes for later. I'm starving. I hope they've got mashed potatoes for dinner. Oh! And maybe some meat pasties!"

At that, Hermione couldn't help but laugh, much to Ron's annoyance. And as Harry followed his best friend and girl friend to dinner, he couldn't help but whistle.


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