Fic: Harry Potter and Love’s Trespasser (Part IV)
Title: Harry Potter and Love’s Trespasser (4/5)
Rating: All Ages
Category: Fluffy with a bit of humor
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Word Count: 1760
Summary: YES. I have written a seventh year, Harry Potter and the Blank fic!! It will be chock-full of action, magical and literary innovations, new foul and dark creatures, as well as a thorough account of the horcruxes, how to destroy them AND a completely unique take on “the power he knows not”!!!!!
Oh, wait... Huh. It’s actually just some fluff. Seventh year, Harry and Hermione are just friends, a first-year develops a crush on Hermione, fun ensues.
Notes: Oh my goodness, this is a late in the evening post! Sorry, I've been a little crazed lately. And what I'm trying to get at is that this was way more rushed than I would have liked. BOO-HOO.
Well, regardless, here's the next part to this. Though, judging from the lack of response to the last part, it doesn't look like people are reading this anymore. Please excuse me while I cry hot and bitter tears!! lol, whatever, I still really enjoyed writing this, so a big thank you to everyone who's commented thus far. And as you might have noticed, this part is NOT the conclusion I had promised you - it turns out that Harry was a little more dense that I had anticipated and needed an extra chapter to sort it all out! lol, this really should have been part of the previous part. OH WELL. ;)
PART I | PART II | PART III
When Harry had been battling Voldemort, he had received quite a bit of advice. Advice from numerous sources. Advice that was normally unsolicited, and often times contradictory.
There had, of course, been some good counsel along the way. Quite a bit of that had come from Hermione. Well, Remus was always good for sensible advice as well. In fact, one of Remus' aphorisms had been echoing in his mind lately. "You know, Harry," the older man had told him, during one of their late-night discussions, "contrary to popular belief, you don't fight fire with fire. That makes no sense whatsoever. You fight fire with water. The problem is... finding out what the bloody hell the water actually is."
Of course, Remus hadn't stopped there. He had gone on to talk about how people rarely want to recognize themselves in their enemies, how studying our enemies can teach us about ourselves, and so forth and so on. But Harry wasn't concerned about all that at the moment.
Because at the moment, all he cared about was finding the right water. Because - as Remus had said - fighting Michael with fire was undoubtedly not going to work out. After all, Harry certainly couldn't go around shoving Michael off of benches.
And on top of that, he had the nagging feeling that his behavior regarding Michael wasn't exactly winning him any popularity points. Hermione had sent her share of disapproving glances his way; the few times he had tried to talk some sense into her she had brushed him off saying that it was just a school-boy crush and would soon blow over, that there was no point in embarrassing the boy over a harmless phase. Even Ron had been giving him slightly exasperated looks whenever he began one of his Michael tirades.
In fact, since the week before, when they had found Fiona crying in the classroom, Ron had been noticeably silent on the topic of Michael, much to Harry's frustration. And when Harry had confronted him the previous day on the subject, Ron had just stared at him for a moment, frowning, before adding a cryptic, "I think this is something you've got to work out on your own."
"Work out on my own?" Harry muttered to himself as he poked at his crystal ball. Why he was still taking Divination - and with Trelawney of all people - he wasn't quite sure. If only he could take a nap, like a snoring (and slightly drooling) Ron to his side, it might have been bearable. But alas, there he was: wide awake and poking-poking-poking at the cloudy sphere, as if it might finally give him some answers.
Luckily, the class ended before Harry could inflict any significant damage on the ball (though his index finger was feeling slightly sore), and after waking Ron, he left to meet Hermione at her Arithmancy class so that they could walk to Potions together.
At the thought of seeing Hermione, Harry's face broke out into a grin and his step grew a bit brisker. He had quickly learned to treasure the few times that he had alone with her, and for that reason alone, Potions had suddenly become his favorite class that term.
He turned a corner, hoping that Slughorn had picked a terribly complicated potion that would require him and Hermione to work closely together for the entire class period. But what greeted his eyes as he approached the Arithmancy room caused him to lose his good humor immediately.
For there was Michael, talking to a smiling Hermione as he pulled at her book bag strap.
"It's too heavy, Michael," Hermione laughingly protested, as the blond boy grabbed her bag and valiantly pulled the strap over his slight shoulder.
Harry rolled his eyes as the boy struggled under the enormous weight that was Hermione Granger's Book Bag - capital letters clearly intoned - even as Michael hastened to assure her that everything was fine. Resisting the urge to trip the boy, Harry instead pulled Hermione's arm through his own and started to walk them toward the dungeons. "So, Michael," Harry called with a forced cheerfulness to the straggling first-year behind him, "how're your classes going?"
Ignoring Hermione's eyes that were immediately (and slightly suspiciously) trained on his face, Harry fought the urge to laugh as Michael attempted to speak, walk, and carry Hermione's bag all at the same time.
But soon, even Harry started to feel a little sorry for Michael's predicament (albeit, it was a very little, indeed). And he could tell that Hermione was uncomfortable as to what to do, since taking the bag back from him would have embarrassed the boy considerably.
As they passed a set of double doors, Harry called out to Michael. "Hey, you know, that's actually a shortcut to your Charm's classroom," he said as he pointed at the doors. Regretfully, Harry dropped Hermione's arm and quickly grabbed the bulging sack from the boy's shoulder, swinging it over his own. "Just cut across the courtyard and make a left and you're there!" Harry announced with a bright smile. And if the smile was a little too toothy to be sincere, only Michael saw.
"Oh that's right!" Hermione exclaimed. "You're going to be late otherwise," she added with a slight glance and a grateful smile for Harry.
Not willing or able to argue with Hermione, Michael grudgingly left the two to continue their way down the stairs to Slughorn's class.
"Thank you," Hermione said to Harry as she playfully bumped his upper arm with her shoulder. "He never would have admitted that it was too heavy for him."
Harry couldn't help but preen a little under her approval. "Well, it's a good thing that your best friend is so strong and manly."
"True," Hermione responded with a decisive nod. "And when Ron's not around, you'll do."
At that, Hermione was forced to give a quick shriek and run down the hallway, for Harry had responded with an affronted "Hey!" quickly followed with a fierce mock-growl as he tried to chase her into the classroom.
"Took you long enough," Hermione impishly teased him when he entered to room to find her already seated at their table.
"Well," he replied with a gusty sigh, "I was slightly hampered by carrying Gilderoy Lockhart's entire Magical Me series over my shoulder."
Hermione let out a ladylike snort before she reached to take her bag from him. "Thanks again, Harry," she replied, with a soft smile on her lips and what Harry could only describe as a sort of glow about her face.
"Anytime," Harry said, with a returning grin of his own. And as he said it, he realized that he really meant it. He had liked taking Hermione's bag for her. He only wished that it hadn't taken a meddling first-year to get him to have done it in the first place.
The class soon quieted down when Professor Slughorn entered from his office, and Harry gave another quick grin to Hermione as he pulled out his parchment, ink and quill. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and her lips quirked into a playful smirk as she nudged at his foot from under the table.
Harry's heart beat a little faster, and he was sure that his face was more than a little flushed.
But before he could think about how to respond, Professor Slughorn's voice interrupted this wonderful new game. "Well, if my top students could stop playing footsie long enough for me to get started," the portly old man jokingly declared to the class, earning some laughter from the other students (as well as embarrassed blushes from the culprits in question), "then the rest of you can collect the ingredients that I've listed on the board."
Feeling both relieved and irritated, Harry carefully watched Hermione during the rest of the class. It was easy to see why Michael had such a crush on her; Hermione was pretty much the perfect girl. She was beyond smart, kind, attractive, and loyal almost to the point of insanity. She knew him better than anyone else in the world, and he trusted her like he trusted no other person - even more so than Ron. And thinking back to the final battle against Voldemort... Well, Harry knew in his heart that she was willing to risk everything to save him. And she knew that he would do no less for her.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice quietly interrupted his reverie. "Is everything okay?" she asked, concern evident in her soft brown eyes as she reached to grasp his hand in her own.
"What?" was his own elegant response. He tried to cover for his abstraction as best he could. Unfortunately, Harry's idea of "covering" consisted of babbling like an imbecile. "No, everything's perfectly all right now. I'm fine. Completely fine here now, thank you. How are you?"
He fought the urge to wince as he heard his own mouth issue forth inanities. But luckily, Hermione just quietly looked his face over and gave his hand another quick squeeze before turning back to their potion.
He wanted to sigh in relief. He didn't know what had come over him. Since when was he nervous around Hermione? Of course, she was pretty enough to make a boy turn stupid. As she leaned over their cauldron, and the silvery cloud from the brew within it began to float and swirl about her face, Harry found himself slightly mesmerized. The way her small hands meticulously prepared the ingredients... the way she would occasionally blow her wild hair out of her eyes... the way her full lips pursed when she was concentrating...
If Harry could have see himself, he would have recognized the rather familiar look of a boy mooning over Hermione. But this time, it wasn't an eleven-year-old doing the mooning. It was him.
Harry's body literally snapped to attention as all the pieces fell into place.
Hermione Granger was not the perfect girl.
Hermione Granger was the perfect girl for him.
(TBC)
Rating: All Ages
Category: Fluffy with a bit of humor
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Word Count: 1760
Summary: YES. I have written a seventh year, Harry Potter and the Blank fic!! It will be chock-full of action, magical and literary innovations, new foul and dark creatures, as well as a thorough account of the horcruxes, how to destroy them AND a completely unique take on “the power he knows not”!!!!!
Oh, wait... Huh. It’s actually just some fluff. Seventh year, Harry and Hermione are just friends, a first-year develops a crush on Hermione, fun ensues.
Notes: Oh my goodness, this is a late in the evening post! Sorry, I've been a little crazed lately. And what I'm trying to get at is that this was way more rushed than I would have liked. BOO-HOO.
Well, regardless, here's the next part to this. Though, judging from the lack of response to the last part, it doesn't look like people are reading this anymore. Please excuse me while I cry hot and bitter tears!! lol, whatever, I still really enjoyed writing this, so a big thank you to everyone who's commented thus far. And as you might have noticed, this part is NOT the conclusion I had promised you - it turns out that Harry was a little more dense that I had anticipated and needed an extra chapter to sort it all out! lol, this really should have been part of the previous part. OH WELL. ;)
PART I | PART II | PART III
When Harry had been battling Voldemort, he had received quite a bit of advice. Advice from numerous sources. Advice that was normally unsolicited, and often times contradictory.
There had, of course, been some good counsel along the way. Quite a bit of that had come from Hermione. Well, Remus was always good for sensible advice as well. In fact, one of Remus' aphorisms had been echoing in his mind lately. "You know, Harry," the older man had told him, during one of their late-night discussions, "contrary to popular belief, you don't fight fire with fire. That makes no sense whatsoever. You fight fire with water. The problem is... finding out what the bloody hell the water actually is."
Of course, Remus hadn't stopped there. He had gone on to talk about how people rarely want to recognize themselves in their enemies, how studying our enemies can teach us about ourselves, and so forth and so on. But Harry wasn't concerned about all that at the moment.
Because at the moment, all he cared about was finding the right water. Because - as Remus had said - fighting Michael with fire was undoubtedly not going to work out. After all, Harry certainly couldn't go around shoving Michael off of benches.
And on top of that, he had the nagging feeling that his behavior regarding Michael wasn't exactly winning him any popularity points. Hermione had sent her share of disapproving glances his way; the few times he had tried to talk some sense into her she had brushed him off saying that it was just a school-boy crush and would soon blow over, that there was no point in embarrassing the boy over a harmless phase. Even Ron had been giving him slightly exasperated looks whenever he began one of his Michael tirades.
In fact, since the week before, when they had found Fiona crying in the classroom, Ron had been noticeably silent on the topic of Michael, much to Harry's frustration. And when Harry had confronted him the previous day on the subject, Ron had just stared at him for a moment, frowning, before adding a cryptic, "I think this is something you've got to work out on your own."
"Work out on my own?" Harry muttered to himself as he poked at his crystal ball. Why he was still taking Divination - and with Trelawney of all people - he wasn't quite sure. If only he could take a nap, like a snoring (and slightly drooling) Ron to his side, it might have been bearable. But alas, there he was: wide awake and poking-poking-poking at the cloudy sphere, as if it might finally give him some answers.
Luckily, the class ended before Harry could inflict any significant damage on the ball (though his index finger was feeling slightly sore), and after waking Ron, he left to meet Hermione at her Arithmancy class so that they could walk to Potions together.
At the thought of seeing Hermione, Harry's face broke out into a grin and his step grew a bit brisker. He had quickly learned to treasure the few times that he had alone with her, and for that reason alone, Potions had suddenly become his favorite class that term.
He turned a corner, hoping that Slughorn had picked a terribly complicated potion that would require him and Hermione to work closely together for the entire class period. But what greeted his eyes as he approached the Arithmancy room caused him to lose his good humor immediately.
For there was Michael, talking to a smiling Hermione as he pulled at her book bag strap.
"It's too heavy, Michael," Hermione laughingly protested, as the blond boy grabbed her bag and valiantly pulled the strap over his slight shoulder.
Harry rolled his eyes as the boy struggled under the enormous weight that was Hermione Granger's Book Bag - capital letters clearly intoned - even as Michael hastened to assure her that everything was fine. Resisting the urge to trip the boy, Harry instead pulled Hermione's arm through his own and started to walk them toward the dungeons. "So, Michael," Harry called with a forced cheerfulness to the straggling first-year behind him, "how're your classes going?"
Ignoring Hermione's eyes that were immediately (and slightly suspiciously) trained on his face, Harry fought the urge to laugh as Michael attempted to speak, walk, and carry Hermione's bag all at the same time.
But soon, even Harry started to feel a little sorry for Michael's predicament (albeit, it was a very little, indeed). And he could tell that Hermione was uncomfortable as to what to do, since taking the bag back from him would have embarrassed the boy considerably.
As they passed a set of double doors, Harry called out to Michael. "Hey, you know, that's actually a shortcut to your Charm's classroom," he said as he pointed at the doors. Regretfully, Harry dropped Hermione's arm and quickly grabbed the bulging sack from the boy's shoulder, swinging it over his own. "Just cut across the courtyard and make a left and you're there!" Harry announced with a bright smile. And if the smile was a little too toothy to be sincere, only Michael saw.
"Oh that's right!" Hermione exclaimed. "You're going to be late otherwise," she added with a slight glance and a grateful smile for Harry.
Not willing or able to argue with Hermione, Michael grudgingly left the two to continue their way down the stairs to Slughorn's class.
"Thank you," Hermione said to Harry as she playfully bumped his upper arm with her shoulder. "He never would have admitted that it was too heavy for him."
Harry couldn't help but preen a little under her approval. "Well, it's a good thing that your best friend is so strong and manly."
"True," Hermione responded with a decisive nod. "And when Ron's not around, you'll do."
At that, Hermione was forced to give a quick shriek and run down the hallway, for Harry had responded with an affronted "Hey!" quickly followed with a fierce mock-growl as he tried to chase her into the classroom.
"Took you long enough," Hermione impishly teased him when he entered to room to find her already seated at their table.
"Well," he replied with a gusty sigh, "I was slightly hampered by carrying Gilderoy Lockhart's entire Magical Me series over my shoulder."
Hermione let out a ladylike snort before she reached to take her bag from him. "Thanks again, Harry," she replied, with a soft smile on her lips and what Harry could only describe as a sort of glow about her face.
"Anytime," Harry said, with a returning grin of his own. And as he said it, he realized that he really meant it. He had liked taking Hermione's bag for her. He only wished that it hadn't taken a meddling first-year to get him to have done it in the first place.
The class soon quieted down when Professor Slughorn entered from his office, and Harry gave another quick grin to Hermione as he pulled out his parchment, ink and quill. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and her lips quirked into a playful smirk as she nudged at his foot from under the table.
Harry's heart beat a little faster, and he was sure that his face was more than a little flushed.
But before he could think about how to respond, Professor Slughorn's voice interrupted this wonderful new game. "Well, if my top students could stop playing footsie long enough for me to get started," the portly old man jokingly declared to the class, earning some laughter from the other students (as well as embarrassed blushes from the culprits in question), "then the rest of you can collect the ingredients that I've listed on the board."
Feeling both relieved and irritated, Harry carefully watched Hermione during the rest of the class. It was easy to see why Michael had such a crush on her; Hermione was pretty much the perfect girl. She was beyond smart, kind, attractive, and loyal almost to the point of insanity. She knew him better than anyone else in the world, and he trusted her like he trusted no other person - even more so than Ron. And thinking back to the final battle against Voldemort... Well, Harry knew in his heart that she was willing to risk everything to save him. And she knew that he would do no less for her.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice quietly interrupted his reverie. "Is everything okay?" she asked, concern evident in her soft brown eyes as she reached to grasp his hand in her own.
"What?" was his own elegant response. He tried to cover for his abstraction as best he could. Unfortunately, Harry's idea of "covering" consisted of babbling like an imbecile. "No, everything's perfectly all right now. I'm fine. Completely fine here now, thank you. How are you?"
He fought the urge to wince as he heard his own mouth issue forth inanities. But luckily, Hermione just quietly looked his face over and gave his hand another quick squeeze before turning back to their potion.
He wanted to sigh in relief. He didn't know what had come over him. Since when was he nervous around Hermione? Of course, she was pretty enough to make a boy turn stupid. As she leaned over their cauldron, and the silvery cloud from the brew within it began to float and swirl about her face, Harry found himself slightly mesmerized. The way her small hands meticulously prepared the ingredients... the way she would occasionally blow her wild hair out of her eyes... the way her full lips pursed when she was concentrating...
If Harry could have see himself, he would have recognized the rather familiar look of a boy mooning over Hermione. But this time, it wasn't an eleven-year-old doing the mooning. It was him.
Harry's body literally snapped to attention as all the pieces fell into place.
Hermione Granger was not the perfect girl.
Hermione Granger was the perfect girl for him.
(TBC)