Dance With Me Harry

DANCE WITH ME HARRY

By Aerie22

CHAPTER 18

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"

Harry's mind was a jumble of thoughts. It was nearly three weeks into the term, September was rapidly passing, and he still hadn't found a way to tell Hermione how he felt.

He had considered a grand gesture--an elaborate gift or some outrageously romantic act--but Snape's lecture about foolish Gryffindor theatrics earlier in the term had made him reconsider. His first impulse at buying her a birthday present, a gold chain with intertwined hearts like Sara's, was discarded. That would be too much, he decided. If he knew she liked him, he could always sneak off to Hogsmeade and purchase one. Instead, he had bought her a beautiful, leather-bound book of wizard poetry.

He had sat and pondered endlessly. Something as mundane as asking her to Hogsmeade during the next free weekend would be taken, he had no doubt, as merely an invitation to a gang date no different from any other Hogsmeade weekend.

No, there had to be some way to tell Hermione he liked her as more than just a pal. But as he sat there in the library next to her, trying desperately to finish his potions' assignment while stealing glances at the face that had stolen his heart, he was at a loss.

Then, unbidden, came the words of Sara this past summer, which he had thought of over and over again since returning to Hogwarts: 'A perfect boyfriend will always strive to surprise and delight his lady with an unexpected compliment.'

Harry smiled at the memory of Sara, so intent on instructing Harry on the intricate ways to a woman's heart, often taking an intense and pedantic tone like a younger Professor McGonagall hammering away at some knotty transfiguration problem. Harry had tried to remember all the lessons she had tried to teach him. 'A perfect red rose to your lover is worth more than a handful or diamonds if you've been true to her, but a handful of diamonds will not be enough if you've been untrue.' Harry shook his head at that one. 'Meet her anger with gentleness as a willow that bends before the storm.' That one was even worse, like a Zen version of a Witch Weekly serial. He giggled softly, and Hermione raised her head from her book to frown at him.

He looked around the library. It was almost closing time, and the library was emptying out. He sighed softly. He had to find a way to let her know his feelings or he would just explode. He had seem how crazy Ron had become over Parvati. Ron had actually gotten up the nerve to try the 'unexpected compliment' approach and that had definitely gotten her attention. But now Ron was tearing himself apart in indecision about what to do next. And he was becoming more and more ornery and snappish whenever Harry tried to offer advice or encouragement.

Harry vowed he would not go that route with Hermione. After all, he had risked, and thought he had lost, Ron's friendship by confiding his feelings about Hermione. If he was willing to take such risks with Ron, he owed it to Ron to follow up with Hermione.

He took a deep breath and tried to think. He propped his elbow on the potions book he had been reading and leaned his head on his hand, and glanced over at Hermione. She was so adorable, her face a mask of concentration, scribbling notes furiously without even a glance to her notebook, and biting her bottom lip as she turned the page of her text. He had to smile.

As if sensing his gaze, she turned. "Harry, what are you looking at?"

Harry was a little startled, but his smile broadened. He gave a small shrug, and colored slightly. "I was just thinking what a git I'd been for not noticing how pretty you were until last year's Yule Ball," he said.

Suddenly, Harry realized he had spoken aloud what he'd been thinking at the moment. He sensed he was really blushing now, and gave her another quick smile and turned to get his books and papers in order to return to the Gryffindor common room.

"It's closing time, Hermione," he said in a small, husky voice. "It's time to go."

Harry's head was truly whirling now. Had he done the right thing? How could he say such a thing? Did she like it? Why wasn't she reacting?

He stood, but Hermione still hadn't reacted. He took a deep breath. 'In for a penny, in for a pound,' he thought. He bent over her an gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

* * *

'What did he just say?' Hermione thought. 'How pretty I am?' She was stunned. Cute, sweet Harry, the boy she'd had a crush on since the Yule Ball and, if she were honest with herself, probably since she had first noticed boys at all, had called her pretty and...and...he had kissed her.

She had to think. She had tried to picture scenarios where he might notice her. She had tried to analyze her feelings about him. She'd even asked her mother about what to do if a boy liked her or she liked a boy. But her mum just told her she would know what to do when it happened.

But somehow, didn't know. She wasn't prepared. It was like a test she hadn't studied for. She had to formulate her response, but this was too quick.

She had virtually no experience with boys. She'd gone to the Yule Ball with and kissed Viktor Crum, but she had been prepared well in advance. And he didn't really know her and had no right to have expectations from her. She knew her escape routes, both physical and emotional. And she didn't have any emotional bond to Viktor.

But there was no plan, no map, no study guide for her emotions with Harry. She would be working without a net. What was she supposed to do? Should she hold his hand? What would Ron think? Was she expected to go snogging with him now? Would they fall in love? What if they didn't like each other? What if they broke up? Would they sleep together? Would they...? What if...? How do I ...?

She could sense it out of the corner of her eye as Harry looked down at her. "Come on, Hermione," he said gently with a slight strain in his voice. "I'll walk you back to the dorms."

Hermione found she couldn't turn her head to meet his eyes. She needed time to think. How could this be happening? She had dreamed of this, but she knew it was just a fantasy. Now that it was a reality, and she didn't know what to do.

She heard him shuffle, nervously. She couldn't leave him there shuffling, could she. But she didn't have the string in her legs to rise and couldn't face him for fear of bursting into tears, of making a fool of herself in front of him.

"No, you go ahead. I've got a couple things to take care of," she heard herself say, still not turning to face him.

She heard him grunt like someone had hit him in the midsection. She saw out of the corner of her eye Harry turn and walk quickly out of the library. He was almost running. She didn't know what to do. Maybe if she thought about it overnight, she would know what to do.

* * *

Harry raced down the hall and up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. His breathing was harsh and shallow, but somehow, he was just able to force enough air into his lungs to keep going. He could barely see through the tears. Even with all the work and exercise he'd done over the summer, his thighs burned from the pounding they were taking going up the various staircases.

He arrived at the portrait of the Lady in Pink and paused, his hands on his knees, to catch his breath and to regain his composure. He wiped away the tears and took a deep breath. "Carpe Diem," he spoke to the Fat Lady in Pink, whose face was showing her concern for the boy. The door swung open.

There was the usual hubbub in the common room. He walked swiftly through the room, waving absently at Ron and Colin Creevey, who were playing wizard's chess. He raced up the stairs to his dorm.

Tossing his books and papers into his trunk and his glasses on the night stand, Harry flopped in his bed face first. He buried his face in a pillow and screamed.

"Stupid!!! Stupid!!! Stupid!!! Stupid!!!" he screamed into the pillow over and over again. He paused only when he was exhausted. Then he turned back to his pillow, punching it over and over again.

His mind was a mass of agonized self-recrimination. 'How could I ever think Hermione cared about me? I'm just a pal. She can't love me. Nobody has ever loved me. And nobody ever will.' He kept punching the pillow over and over again until he was physically and emotionally spent. About a half hour later, Ron came up to check on Harry. He sat on the corner of Harry's bed.

"Harry?" he asked quietly. "Are you all right?"

Harry had the pillow over his head. He shook his head.

"Are you sick or something?"

Harry nodded.

"You need anything? You need to go to the hospital wing? Something to eat or drink?"

Harry shook his head, miserably. "I'm okay, Ron. I just need to rest," he said in a strained voice, not looking up.

Ron nodded absently. "Listen, if you need anything, just let me know, Okay?"

Harry nodded, the pillow still over his head.

Ron turned to leave, when he heard Harry's small strained voice. "Ron?"

Ron paused and turned back to the bed. "Yeah, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Thanks." He paused. "Thanks for being my friend."

Ron gave a small smile at the beat-up pillow covering his friend. "Don't mention it, mate."

When Harry heard Ron leave, he gave a choking sigh. Then Harry began to cry. He cried for a long time that night. He cried as much that night as he'd ever cried in his life.

* * *

Hermione gathered up her books absentmindedly shortly after Harry left. She was so confused, she didn't know what to do. Madame Pince had passed by to see that Hermione was on her way out and promptly forgot about her favorite student.

But Hermione stopped before she reached the exit, and doubled back. She couldn't go back yet. She couldn't face Harry. She didn't know what to do, to say. Should she jump into his arms? Should she hide from him? Should she ignore him? Or just pretend nothing ever had happened?

Maybe she should go back and talk to Parvati and Lavender. No, she thought firmly. They would laugh at her. Or they would yell at her. Or call her stupid or immature or naïve. Or they would tell everybody, and she would become the laughing stock of Hogwarts.

She would not let them rob her of her dignity. She would work it out. She had always worked out things in the past, hadn't she?

Hermione found herself in a corner of the library, which now was dark except for a few candles in the reading room area. She leaned against the wall of the little alcove she loved to come to when she needed to think. She could see down several rows of bookshelves, the few remaining lit candles throwing the book spines into sharp relief. Maybe there was a book, or a treatise, or a pamphlet, that could tell her what to do. She felt her knees go, and she slowly slid down the wall until she was on the floor, her knees up against her chin and her arms around her shins. She looked at the flickering lights, throwing dancing shadows on the books, and she cried.

* * *

Over the next few days, Harry was seen in classes, but no where else. He was seldom hungry, but when he was, he would sneak down to the dungeon, where he would tickle the pear on the painting of the bowl of fruit down there and gain entrance to the kitchens and get something to eat from Dobby and the house elves, who were always eager to please.

When he went to class, he nodded at Hermione, but didn't speak to her except as needed for the class. And when classes were over, he was the first one out, and was almost instantly lost in the crowds of students changing classes. At the end of classes, Harry would retire to his dorm room, reading and doing his school work in his bed.

Or he would run. After the last class of the day, he would run to the dorm, and change into running shorts and sneakers and go out to the great lawn and begin running. Sometimes, he would run for hours. Sometimes he would barely make a circuit of the Great Lawn.

Hermione, for her part, became withdrawn, spending most of her time in the library. She, too, tried to avoid Harry when she could. She was still confused about her feelings and now realized she had hurt him and was embarrassed to face him. She hoped that Harry would eventually come around and things would return to normal.

* * *

It was Sunday afternoon. Sweat was dripping from Harry's unruly hair and he was out of breath. He had made the run out and around the Quidditch pitch, then to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which he followed back to the castle. Then he continued, looping around the womping willow and back to the edge of the Forbidden Forest until he got to Hagrid's place. He stopped and jogged in place a little to cool down before walking up to his friend's door and knocking.

"Harry!" The half giant exclaimed in surprise and concern. "You look like...is someone after yeh?" Hagrid said with alarm and grabbing his huge crossbow.

Harry gave his friend and professor a weary smile. "No, Hagrid. I was just out running and thought I'd stop by to say hello."

Hagrid lowered his crossbow and looked at Harry with concern. "Running? What for?" Suddenly, he smiled. "Well, let's get yer inside afore you catch yer death. It's a mite chilly," Hagrid said, putting his huge hand on Harry's back and roughly ushering him in.

Harry stepped into the circular stone cabin, marveling at the cages, traps and other paraphernalia of the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Harry ran his hand over Hagrid's huge but cowardly dog Fang's muzzle, coming away with a healthy dollop of dog drool for his trouble, and sat in one of Hagrid's oversized visitor's chairs.

"So. Nice to see you, Harry. What can I get you. Tea? Ale? Firewhiskey? Uhhh...no, that wouldn't be right. Yer a student. Forget I said that. Okay?"

Harry chuckled with a tired smile. "A little water, maybe. Or some tea."

Hagrid grabbed his pink parasol wand and waved it at the potbellied stove, which suddenly lit. Then he went to the basin and promptly filled a huge tankard full of water from the hand pump.

"Ere yeh go, Harry," Hagrid said, placing the tankard, which easily held three pints, if not more, in front of Harry.

Harry drank with great thirst, but couldn't finish half of the huge tankard. He leaned back into the chair, relaxing for the first time in nearly a week. He looked around the hut casually and noticed a huge piece of furniture in the shadows. "Hagrid, what's that?"

Harry noticed Hagrid's cheeks blush under the mass of beard covering his face. "Ahh...it's sumpin I kinda cobbled together. In case of visitors," he mumbled. "It's sumpin called an arm-oo-ar."

Harry blinked a couple times, trying to figure out what Hagrid had just said. Then he realized. "An armoire? Like, a closet?"

Hagrid pursed his mouth, or at least appeared to through his beard. "Ahhh...Yeah. Like I said."

Harry got a mischievous smile on his face. "What visitors? Are you expecting company?"

Hagrid shifted uncomfortably, leading the massively solid chair he was sitting in to squeak in protest. "Well, now...yeh never know..."

Harry leaned his head back against the cushions in his chair. "A certain headmistress from an exotic foreign land?"

"Ah...uh...well...I did just happen ta run inta Madame Maxime over the summer. After all, I was just in the neighborhood...in the Ukraine, which is practically next door ta France, yeh know." Hagrid stopped. "I shouldn't'a told yeh that."

Harry gave a knowing nod. "I won't tell anybody. You know that."

Hagrid nodded, his eyes suddenly taking a new interest. "But what are yeh running about for? There's only two reasons to run. Yer either running from sumpin, or running to sumpin. Which was you doin'?" he asked.

Harry sunk his chin down in his chest, practically disappearing into the cushions of the massive chair. "Well...it's just something Muggles like to do. For exercise, to keep in shape."

Hagrid shook his head. "Let em do a little real work. That'a be exercise enough for any man, I'm thinking."

Harry gave a half shrug. "Well, I'm in training. Mad Eye...I mean, Professor Moody has got me working on my stamina and reaction time in case...well, in case I even need it."

Hagrid nodded. "Yeah, I heard 'bout yeh being a blockbreaker and all. Always knew yeh had it in yeh. An' Professor Moody's a right chap, even if half the people here think he's around the bend."

Harry nodded, then jumped at a strange voice from the armoire. "FOOD!!!" the voice squeaked.

Harry's eyes went wide. "What was that?" he exclaimed in alarm.

The door to the closet banged. Then banged again. "FOOD!!!" came the insistent squeak again.

Hagrid sighed as he finished pouring Harry's tea. "Brownies."

Harry looked puzzled, concerned now not just about the sounds from the armoire but of Hagrid's cooking, recalling his brick-like treacle fudge. "No thanks, Hagrid. I'm not hungry. But what about the noise from the cabinet?"

Hagrid looked over his shoulder in puzzlement at Harry. "Oh. Not brownies. Brownies."

Harry blinked in confusion as Hagrid walked over to his larder and pulled out a sizeable joint of meat. He threw open the cabinet door and Harry saw the ugliest creatures he had ever seen.

They looked a little like the goblins of Gringotts, but smaller and fatter. And their faces were nut brown and gnarled. And, instead of long sharp noses like elves or goblins, they had what looked like large warts in the middle of their faces.

The largest of the brownies, who couldn't be more than 18 inches tall, gave Harry a disinterested look through Hagrid's legs and turned to look greedily at the joint the half giant was offering. "Food!!! Good!!!" he squeaked and grabbed the meat, whose weight nearly toppled him.

"GOOD!!!" the four other brownies exclaimed, and immediately went to work tearing into the meat.

Hagrid carefully closed the door, shaking his head. "Some business, those," he said quietly.

"Brownies?" Harry said in amazement.

Hagrid nodded. "The Helluos family. They come visit once a year so I can show them to the class. They're fine as long as yeh keep them fed. But when they're hungry, they can be...well, unpleasant," he said with a frown.

Harry looked up at his friend. "What are they like?"

Hagrid shrugged. "Well, they live in family groups in forests, like the Forbidden Forest. And all they do is eat, from what I can see. And they've got magic, so you got ta watch em. Not like elves, or even goblins, mind yeh. Mostly just hexing magic. But as long as they're well fed, they can be awright. And they like dark caves and such. That's why I let them stay in the Arm-oo-ar."

Harry chuckled. "Must be pleasant."

Hagrid shrugged. "They're awright. I'll be showing 'em this week in class. Don't let their looks put yeh off," he said with a sigh. "But I know now I'd never want ta run an inn," he said with a chuckle.

Harry chuckled, as well, finishing his tea. He looked up fondly at his professor and friend. He began to think about how much fun it would be to tease Lavender Brown about 'her relatives, the Brownies.'

"Well, I best be getting back. Thanks for the tea, Hagrid," he said with a smile.

Hagrid smiled at Harry. "Give my regards to Hermione and Ron. I have seen yeh all down here together for a while. Be good to see yeh all down here soon, eh?"

It was then he realized this was the first time in nearly a week he felt a little better about himself, the first time he wasn't dwelling on Hermione and his humiliation from the library. His spirits sagged and his face fell as he let out a sigh. He walked up to Hagrid and gave him a quick hug. "Yeah. See you, Hagrid."

Hagrid nodded and then turned to the armoire, which was now shaking again. "WATER!!!" came the squeak inside.

* * *