While You Were In A Coma

The sounds of shuffling, and students hastily shoving parchment into their schoolbags could be heard as all but two pupils began filing out of their DADA class. The pair of them sat patiently on their seats, waiting for the room to be completely vacated.

"Ah, Hermione, it is good to have you back in my class- your informed and-er- lively participation was much missed," Professor Lupin pronounced as Harry and Hermione approached his desk at the front of the room, a twinkle in his eye.

"As I am sure the Gryffindors missed the points it gave us," Harry put in with an impish smile.

Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly, which always happened when receiving praise from a teacher. "Thank you, Profe-" she started to say.

"I thought I asked you to call me Remus, Hermione," Lupin stopped Hermione mid-sentence, with a wave of his hand and gave her a meaningful gaze.

"But...we're still in the classroom," Hermione mustered, averting her eyes from Lupin's.

"Ah, but not in class, so..." he left the sentence unfinished, looking at her expectantly.

"Thank you, Remus," Hermione responded sheepishly.

Harry couldn't stop a smile from coming to his lips- it was rather amusing to see how uncomfortable Hermione got from addressing a professor, and one she respected greatly at that, so informally.

"So, Lupin," Harry started, deliberately referring to Remus by his last name, which earned him an angry stare from Hermione and a light chuckle from the Professor. "Last week neither one of us got the opportunity to welcome you back to your old position as our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. And we've come to do just that," he stated.

"Thank you; you don't know how happy I am to be back," Lupin said, as he started to arrange some papers on his desk.

"But, I wondering-why did it take you so long to arrive at Hogwarts? Why did you start your classes just last week?" Hermione questioned.

Lupin stopped his rummaging and turned to face them. "On my way back here, after Dumbledore asked me to return, I...spotted Wormtail," he paused, waiting for the information to sink in. "I was hot on his trail for an entire month, but unfortunately I lost track of him right outside of Hogsmeade...I was too late. I was the one who found the three of you unconscious..." Remus lowered his gaze again. "I would have gotten him sooner, but I was waiting to see if he would lead me to Voldemort...but if I had stopped him, then Ron-"

"Please Remus, stop," Harry pleaded. "Don't do this to yourself."

"Yes, Remus, Harry and I have already shared all the guilt we can handle. Please," Hermione added to Harry's attempts.

"If it's worth anything, you have already done so much to help us since we met," Harry put in as his lips curled upwards.

Lupin smiled in return, slapping Harry's back. "Thanks, but you'd better get a move on, my next class is coming in."

As if on cue, students started to arrive and two said their goodbyes. "We have time before our next class starts, do you want to head up to the library to start our research?" Hermione asked as they began to walk through the halls.

"Sure, the sooner we get started, the better," Harry, answered.

"Well, okay then lets-"

Hermione stopped mid-sentence as Draco Malfoy appeared from around the corner and body checked Hermione roughly. "Move it, Granger," he spat, pushing Hermione hard to the side.

She was startled and almost lost her balance, but Harry's hands shot up to her shoulders from behind -just in time to stop her from toppling over. "Watch it, Malfoy!" Harry shouted furiously. "Stupid git," he mumbled to himself as Crabbe and Goyle stampeded by, trying to catch up to Malfoy. Harry had just enough time to pull Hermione a step closer towards him, just a second before the two could slam into her. "Are you alright?" he asked, his hands still on her shoulders even though the danger of her falling had past.

"That was strange," Hermione said aloud, instead of answering the question. "Malfoy didn't bother us; no sarcastic quips, no witty insults about Ron, nothing," Hermione continued, preferring to analyze Malfoy's actions rather than questioning her reasons for not moving away from Harry again.

"You're right," Harry nodded distractedly. He never knew that Hermione exuded such a sweet smell. Where was it coming from? Was it from her voluminous brown curls? Or was it from her soft skin?

Hermione barely heard Harry's answer as she concentrated on Harry's hands resting on her shoulders; his hands applied enough pressure to hold her up, but his touch was still light.

They remained in that position until Hermione felt ridiculous about having her back to Harry for this long. She took a few steps ahead and turned to face him. "Um...let's go then," she said, smiling nervously.

Harry simply smiled in return, equally nervous, and they made their way to the library.

***

Draco Malfoy was seething; he paced furiously through the halls of Hogwarts, not really paying attention to where he was going. He barely had time to push Granger out of his way. The most worthy explanation for his foul mood was that he'd never intended to bother Potter and Granger, nor any other student that scurried out of his way. Except, of course, one certain Gryffindor, the sole reason for his anger.

Draco was intensely absorbed in his own thoughts; he paid no attention to Crabbe and Goyle's wheezing after they finally caught up to him. "What's...wrong?" Crabbe choked out between breaths.

Draco immediately stopped, and without even turning to face Crabbe, Draco burst out, "Who does that she-Weasley think she is?! Nobody insults a Malfoy, least of all an insignificant little girl!"

Goyle must've known what Draco was talking about, as he began to laugh. "You were dripping," replied.

Finally acknowledging their presence, Draco snapped his head in their direction. "Shut up, Goyle!" he snapped. "Oh, but this is so not going to end like this. I'll show that stupid girl; I'll humiliate her to such extent that she will wish she'd never stood up to me," Draco continued, narrowing his eyes into dangerous slits, and balling his fists.

Obviously, the other two Slytherin boys weren't paying attention, because their silly guffaws continued. "Yeah, he was dripping -pumpkin juice all over his face!"

"I told you to shut up, Goyle!" Draco shouted, more forcefully this time.

"I'm Crabbe!" replied an indignant Vincent.

Draco remained silent as he regarded the two of them. "You look the same to me," he growled, continuing to march through the halls.

Not understanding the insult, Crabbe and Goyle groaned when they realized that they had to keep up with the same fast pace once more.

***

Harry thumped his fingers on the library table as he scanned the other tables, basically killing some time. Hermione had told him to wait here while she went to gather all the books they could start on. Since the library was Hermione's own little sanctuary, her home-away-from-home, he didn't argue; he knew full well that she would have an easier time looking for the books. His fellow Gryffindor, Colin, walked by, waving energetically at him. Harry returned his wave, and that is when it happened. When his memory triggered the smell of Hermione. But, what was it? He couldn't pinpoint that smell, but it was sweet without being overbearing, clean but flowery. Did she use perfume? But she never had done so before, Harry thought. Perhaps shampoo, or...Harry shook his head forcefully, desperately trying to shoo these thoughts from his head- so what if Hermione smelled nice? It wasn't any of his business, he only came here to try and find a cure for Ron.

A groan coming from his left was well received by Harry; after all, it served the great purpose of making him forget what he was thinking. When he turned, he saw Hermione coming; or actually, more accurate would be to say that he saw a pair of slim hands clutching a tower of books and robe-covered legs striding towards him. The groans must be coming from none other than Hermione, thought Harry, immediately sprinting out of his chair to relieve Hermione's weight. He took a good pile of the books, enough to let Hermione's face show.

"Thank you," said Hermione, grateful for Harry's chivalrous gesture. They both set the stacks of books on the table, and Harry began to read the spines to figure out where to start. Hermione, though, seemed to already have her plan mapped out. "So, I will begin reading with this stack first because I think they're the more important; we can begin when our last class ends, and you can go to dinner while I keep reading until Madam Pince throws me out...although, if I could borrow your invisibility cloak, I wouldn't have to go to sleep so early. I could stay late after night, and that would be perfect. And then I can sneak in early to read more before class, and lets see...yes, if I skip breakfast I can advance even more-"

"No," Harry said out of the blue, interrupting Hermione's quick planning.

Hermione was caught off guard, and took the opportunity to finally take a breath of air. "Come on Harry, you know I'll take good care of your cloak," Hermione defended, thinking he was referring to not letting her borrow his dad's invisibility cloak.

"I'm not talking about that Hermione," Harry said, pushing his book aside. "You are not going to do it like this. Yes, we are going to do our best in helping out with Ron's dilemma," he explained, extending his hand to place it over Hermione's in an attempt to clearly make his point. "We'll do all the research we can cram in during the day, we will even give up our weekends, but I am not about to let you sacrifice your wellbeing on this..."

At this, Hermione's feminist side wanted to retort along the lines of "you won't let me?!" but she understood what Harry meant. However, Harry had apparently not finished talking. "At this point, you are far more important to me...I mean..." Harry cleared his throat after listening to and wincing about how that had sounded, continuing with, "...your health is more important...after all, what would Ron say if he wakes up to find his 'girlfriend' in a terrible condition?" Harry finished, ignoring the tone he had used on the word "girlfriend."

Hermione was silent for a moment, absorbing what Harry had said, and giving more thought than necessary to how warm Harry's hand felt over hers. "You're right," she said with a sigh, carrying on, "Its just that this is my way of trying not to feel helpless, of not losing myself in the depression and sadness."

Harry squeezed her hand tightly. "I understand, and we just have to be strong, at least for Ron's sake. However, we also need to take care of one another." Harry smiled, adding in his mind, I already promised myself I was going to take care of you.

Hermione smiled in return, not knowing that Harry was thinking along the same lines as she was.

***

Two days later, Harry and Hermione came through the portrait hole into the common room at a very late hour from one of their daily camp-outs in the library. Madam Pince's feathers were getting ruffled from having to dismiss them everyday.

Hermione could barely keep her eyes open as she plopped down into one of the softest couches in the common room, Harry following suit. She was so tired from reading, and she hadn't even begun her homework. She shut her eyes, snuggling deeper into the plush cushions, leaning slightly towards Harry.

Harry couldn't believe he felt so exhausted from just spending his time sitting down and reading; his body felt as though he had gone through a few tough Quidditch practices. As he sat beside Hermione, he leaned his head back into the couch, and spread his arms along the length of the backrest.

As Hermione wriggled in her spot, searching for a more comfortable position, she bent one leg under her body to sit over it, and placed a cushion on her back. Her head came in sudden contact with the crook of Harry's shoulder, and it gave her the kind of comfort she never thought possible. Silently, she waited for Harry to react, desperately hopind that he wouldn't move away.

Harry could feel Hermione's movements beside him; he brought his hand to rub the bridge of his nose. His entire body felt tense even though he was sitting in his favourite couch. Suddenly, a new weight was added to his body as Hermione's head touched his shoulder. He felt her hesitate for a fraction of a second before leaning in completely. He remained still, waiting to see if she would reconsider and sit back up- but she didn't move.

As if suddenly the force of gravity had possessed his right arm, it slowly began to slide down the backrest until he was nearly touching her shoulder. He casually extended his index finger to investigate the territory, and when it wasn't shaken off, he gently rested his arm on her shoulder.

Suddenly a flash of bright light went off, almost blinding the pair. "Hey guys!" Colin Creevey greeted chirpily, lowering his camera and smiling at them.

This time Harry couldn't help but groan at Colin's paparazzi tendencies. "Colin..."

"I'm sorry, but you looked so very photogenic, cuddled to-"

Harry and Hermione's immediate movement cut Colin's explanation short. The two of them were trying to look very casual as they sprung backwards, moving away from each other. "We weren't-" Harry began.

"-cuddling, it just that we are-" Hermione spoke simultaneously.

"-very tired, from reading-"

"-all the time, and we just sat down-"

"-to try an rest for a minute."

The eldest Creevey was very confused. He was trying to understand what his fifth-year peers were saying, but they were talking at the same time, and on top of that, neither one seemed to notice they were doing so. Colin decided to change the obviously awkward subject. "So, have you guys decided what classes you're going to take? I suppose you would take something exciting, eh, Harry? Something to increase your abilities?"

Harry, who was now an entire cushion apart from Hermione, scrunched his face in confusion. "What are you talking about, Colin?"

"The extracurricular classes! You know, the ones Professor Dumbledore told us about," Colin was talking slowly, noticing their blank expressions. "Everyone's talking about it," Colin continued, stating it in a point-blank tone. "It's why the common room is at such a frenzy- the parchments containing the classes and sign-up locations appeared today!"

That was precisely when Harry turned to look at his surroundings, and gaped when met with the site of the entire Gryffindor population, buzzing like a hurdle of bees. Students were talking excitedly amongst themselves, some of them grouped together at the board that had appeared at the center of the common room. Student after student went to tear off a parchment for him or herself, and immediately a new parchment grew for the next pupil in turn. Had it been like this when they'd entered? Why had he failed to notice such... craze? Were all these people here? Harry turned to Hermione and by the lost expression on her face, he realized that he wasn't alone.

Harry, a little embarrassed for his obvious lack of attention, cleared his throat and sat up quickly. "Oh, yes of course- well, we just wanted to rest a while before actually deciding." With that, he made his way to the almost deserted board; all of the students had already picked up their own parchments.

Hermione made her most convincing face at Harry's statement, trying to smile at Colin, as he continued talking. "Well, I finally made my choice, and I am taking professional wizard photography, it says here that they're supposed to teach you innovative methods to develop the film, so that the actions of the people in the photograph show more feeling," Colin explained excitedly, his usual energy back. Hermione had difficultly keeping a smile away after that.

By the time Harry returned, baring two sheets of long parchment, Colin had moved on to his own circle of friends. Harry handed Hermione her own piece as he sat down at her side, taking care to leave a respectable space between them. "There sure are many classes to choose from," he murmured, scanning the list. "The Chemistry of Potions, oh yes, now that's exactly what I want to do-willingly subject myself to an extra dose of Snape," he remarked in a highly sarcastic tone.

Hermione smiled in understanding as she read out loud, "The Art of Herbology, The Magic of Beast Caretaking..." at this, they shared a look; obviously, this class would be taught by Hagrid, and they didn't even want to guess what sort of creatures he would be using.

"I don't understand," Harry interrupted the reading, "Aren't these the same classes we get everyday??"

"No, I don't think so, look at the small descriptions given: The Chemistry of Potions: learn the chemical reasons and explanations, find out why and how certain ingredients combine to create a specific potion," Hermione read.

"Oh, let's see," said Harry, searching for another description. "The Magic of Beast Caretaking: experience the wonders of caring for magical beast, raise them from the egg to the wonderful teenage years (you can keep them as pets, if your specific beast isn't a carnivore)," Harry turned to look at Hermione, grinning. "This is definitely taught by Hagrid."

"Look, there are other types of classes: Wizard Painting, Magical Musical Instruments, Magical Confection of Clothes, Professional Wizard Photography," Harry and Hermione looked at Colin simultaneously as they read the latter. "They also offer the Muggle counterpart," Hermione added.

"And there are clubs, too: The Quidditch Club, the Fencing Club-"

"Maybe you should enter that club," Hermione chimed in.

"I don't know," Harry said with hesitation. It was mostly based on which Professor was going to teach it. He really didn't fancy putting up with Snape when it was required of him.

"What? You think after your experience with Godric Gryffindor's sword and the Basilisk, you don't need further training?" Hermione taunted in an innocent voice.

Harry blushed from the look Hermione was giving him, and replied impishly, "You wouldn't be saying that if you had seen me madly twirling the sword as if it was a baton!" He continued to read from the list, saying aloud, "The Soccer Club! I bet that's where Dean is going to enter, The Drama Club-"

"Drama club?" Hermione interrupted, leaning over Harry's parchment to check it was possible. "At Hogwarts??"

Harry shrugged. "Well, there's also a Magical Cooking Club and a... Beautifying Club?!" Harry exclaimed, reading the latter option with doubt in his tone.

Hermione, understanding his tone and sharing his doubt, dutifully read the description. "'The perfect club where to share your innermost secrets of styling and beauty. Compare charms and spells to augment the outer beauty (selective membership).' Well, that's just great, why don't they just put 'only beautiful people allowed'??"

"I guess that's where Lavender and Parvati will be entering, then," Harry pointed out, as he watched Parvati excitedly talk to another group of girls.

"Oh, so you think they're beautiful then," Hermione stated hotly, a bit more acidly that she had intended.

"No! Not because of that!" Harry almost shouted, trying to defend his point; he certainly didn't want Hermione to think that. "Because they seem to be the type of girls who take great importance in such vain things!" he explained.

Hermione didn't answer, partly because she felt a little stupid for getting indignant about such issues. Seeing that Hermione didn't appear to be angry, Harry continued reading. "Modern Witch Club, the Wizard Chess Club-"

As Harry read this, the two of them fell silent. "Ron would have been there..." Hermione said softly, tearing her gaze away to look at the fireplace.

"Yeah..." was all Harry could contribute. It was the truth, though. Ron would have jumped at the opportunity a chess club would provide. Harry lowered his head at the thought, gripping the parchment tightly. The memories of Ron's passion for the game flashed through Harry's eyes-how intense Ron's gaze turned when he was playing, how his skill had helped obtain the Philosopher's Stone in their first year. Unconsciously, Harry turned to their usual table, where endless nights had been spent with Ron pulverizing Harry every single game; it was the one territory where Ron could shine above him. But he remembered with a smile, the frustrated look it gave Hermione when Ron would always call "checkmate," when playing against her.

Triggered by his recollections, he turned to her, and gaped. He was dismayed to see that the same, heart-wrenching look of pure emptiness that had occupied her very being during that awful first week, had returned.

Remembering his vow to keep her well, he scooted back to her. "So...what do you think about joining a club, or attending a class together?" Harry asked expectantly.

Hermione turned to him, her eyes watery. "You really want to?"

"Absolutely," Harry replied firmly.

"But- what about our research? Wouldn't it take too much time?" Hermione countered, rubbing her sore neck.

"Hermione, if we continue to research at this rate, we're both going to end up next to Ron at the Hospital Wing," Harry answered, his hand automatically moving to her neck to knead the cramped muscles. "We're abusing ourselves. Don't tell me that you're not exhausted?"

Hermione with her head-hanging limp, basking on the feeling of Harry's hand relieving the pain, said softly, "Yes, I am. I feel like I'm moving around in my sleep."

"Well, come on, we can choose something fun," Harry prodded.

Hermione smiled, but it faded just as quickly as it had appeared. She reluctantly moved an inch away, and Harry's hand dropped onto the sofa. "Oh Harry, its just that I feel like a terrible person," she started, the furrowing of Harry's eyebrows making her continue. "Ron is so important me, and I feel as though if I try to concentrate on anything other than his health, I'm putting him second on my priority list," she whispered, the small tears finally falling from her eyes, and leaving tracks as they slid down her cheeks.

Harry finally did what he'd been aching to do the moment Hermione had shed her first tears after learning that Ron was in a coma- gently wipe away her tears with his thumb. He didn't like to see girls cry, least of all, Hermione. "You know that isn't true. Ron is more important to us than anything else right now. And it is because of this that you have to take care of yourself. Think about it this way: apart from Dumbledore, Ron is counting on us to help, but we aren't going to be too much help if we went stark-raving mad from spending our entire time reading, or if we fell ill from not resting and not eating well," he explained kindly. Hermione, who'd shut her eyes the instant Harry's thumb had touched her skin, finally turned to him; she sensed that he had finished talking. "So come on, lets enter a class-it doesn't have to be very demanding, just something fun and distracting." Harry smiled warmly at Hermione.

That was all the convincing Hermione needed. "Ok, lets do it."

"Great! Now all that is left is to decide what classes to take. If you want, we can take something relative to Transfiguration," Harry added in the last few words not too convincingly; it was her favourite class, and maybe she would enjoy it, even if it meant they had to take another class with more work, knowing Professor McGonagall.

"No," Hermione dismissed the idea rapidly, hearing a sigh of relief from Harry. "I really don't want anything academic-"

"What did you say? Those words couldn't possibly have come out of YOUR mouth? Hermione, I think you hit your head a little harder that we originally thought," Harry pronounced, trying hard not to let out a laugh.

"Harry Potter, stop sounding so shocked," Hermione replied, giggling softly as she threw a cushion at Harry. "Besides, what I was thinking was more along the lines of..." Hermione trailed off, hesitating whether or not to say it.

This didn't give Harry much confidence. But it can't possibly be worse than Transfiguration, he rationalized.

Meanwhile, Hermione was still struggling with her words. "Well...it could be fun if you think about it...and useful too, for the rest of our lives..." Hermione watched Harry intensely for a moment before letting known her choice. "Perhaps we could take Ballroom dancing lessons..." she finally let out in a whisper.

Worse still. The worst. Ballroom dancing? Hadn't she seen the complete and utter uselessness of his feet when a musical pattern is involved? He still recalled with fresh waves of humiliation, how Parvati had steered him (he should say drag, but why make the embarrassment greater?) along the hall last year at the Champion's ball. The dance floor and Harry Potter never met eye to eye, so why not leave the situation in peace?

Hermione, sensing Harry's vacillation, decided to give it her most winning convincing speech. "Come on, now, think about it- do you really want to go the rest of your adult life, guided by your dancing partner?" Harry flinched at this-had it really been so obvious?

"I don't. That is how it was for me last year; it was very fun dancing with Viktor," her voice seemed to go lower at his name, continuing, "But he was the one telling me the steps, moving me around, showing off moves and techniques, and I for one, don't like to participate in any area without a thorough background on its subtle nuances," she finished off. "And...it complies with your previous conditions: fun, stress-free, AND no homework."

Harry gawked at her during her speech, amazed at how she expressed herself. But... dancing? Did he really want to eagerly attend a dancing lesson? That wasn't exactly in his definition of fun.

Hermione let out a great sigh as she saw Harry's blank face and lack of reaction. "Well...it was just a suggestion. We can do something else, if you like," she offered sadly, turning to the fire. She really wanted to learn this art form, just so that, next time, she could walk proudly towards the dance floor, and her dance partner and peers could be amazed at her dancing skills.

Harry also sighed, and responded as fast as he could. "No, no, of course not. Ballroom dancing is fine," he lied blatantly, desperately hoping his voice sounded convincing. "I was just wondering who could be our teacher."

"Really?!" exclaimed Hermione, excitement written on her face. "You really don't mind?"

Just seeing her face light up like this made the prospect of going through the torture of ballroom dancing completely bearable. "No..."

"Thank you!" Hermione squealed as she stretched her arms to give him a quick hug. "Thank you for doing this with me," continued Hermione, still strangely wrapped in what was intended to be just a second-long hug. She did, however, realize that Harry would have preferred a more exciting club or class, but he was joining this just to help her out. He really was a great friend.

"Lets sign up then," Harry stated, flustered after her unexpected reaction. Getting out his quill, he wrote, as clear as he could, his name at the right of the 'Ballroom Dancing Lessons' choice, watching silently as his name disappeared and was replaced by a "Thank you for joining the class."

"Well then, we should begin with our homework. We are very behind, even for you," Hermione said as she riffled through her school bag in search of her Arithmancy book. Harry mimicking her actions, only looking for his Divinations book instead.

They spent the rest of the night together, doing their homework and, in Hermione's case, special projects; it wasn't until the last Gryffindor had left the common room that they realised it was very late, and time to go to sleep. Harry walked Hermione to the door of her room, knowing full well that he'd gotten excessively protective; but, after all, she was all that he had left at Hogwarts, and he was going to go to the ends of the earth to protect her, if need be. That was the only reason.

When Harry slowly walked back to his room, the rest of his dorm mates had already fallen asleep, so he quietly changed and put on his pyjamas. Sinking into the cool bed sheets, he tried to find a comfortable sleeping position. However, it was quite impossible as he twisted and turned, tucked and freed, hugged his pillow and later threw it off his bed. Try as he might, he simply couldn't fall asleep. As he gazed fixedly at the top of his four-poster bed, he meditated, thinking that for two weeks now, this room, this bed, no longer provided comfort. Every waking minute he spent there (and he couldn't sleep, mind), he remembered that Ron was missing. The fact that his bed was empty, that he wouldn't be walking through the door at any minute, that he wouldn't be ranting about Snape and his Malfoy adoration any time soon- it all came crashing back. Truth be told, it had been a long time since he'd slept the whole night, and that had been when he'd fallen asleep on Hermione's bed...with Hermione next to him. Harry sat up immediately, before his mind could wander off into other unspeakable topics. He wasn't going to fall asleep tonight either, so he pulled on his bathrobe and slippers and decided to take a walk.

When he arrived back at the common room, he noticed that the fireplace was still burning with a soft orange fire. But there was another pyjama-clad figure seated on the big sofa just in front of it. "Hermione?" he asked as he walked to her. Hermione, with her pale pink flannel pyjamas, stared back at him. "Couldn't sleep?" Harry continued, sitting next to her.

"No," she responded, shaking her head for emphasis. "Dreams again."

"I couldn't sleep either," Harry confessed.

Hermione hesitated for a second before asking, "Could we read again?"

Harry smiled slowly- that was what he was going to ask her. The night before, he had been so transfixed by the rich timbers of her softly feminine voice that any other distasteful memories or ideas drifted away. Maybe this was what he needed to get a good night's rest again. "Sure," he answered as he reached for the book that was in her hands; he chuckled as he read the title, "'Hogwarts: A History' again?"

"We only got as far as chapter eight," Hermione defended hotly. "Besides, its my favourite."

"I know," Harry assured as he leafed through the book to the specified chapter.

Hermione was trying to cover both of them up with her fluffy blue blanket, but soon discovered that, because of the considerable gap between them, it was impossible to do so. In order to achieve the greater good, which meant the two being warm, she scooted closer to Harry, until she could position the blanket comfortably, covering both their laps. Still, there was something missing.

Harry could feel Hermione's movements as she tried to find a comfortable position. Recalling that she'd had the same struggle earlier that day, he reached across the sofa, grabbed a cushion and placed it at her back. She leaned back and relaxed instantly. "Thanks," she replied in a soft voice.

"Don't mention it," Harry answered as he turned his attention back at the pages, and started to read.

As the strong, rich tone of his voice filled her ears, she unconsciously leaned into Harry, resting her chin at his upper arm, so that she could read along. Hermione spent the rest of the night fighting the overwhelming desire to snuggle deeper into Harry's chest.

TO BE CONTINUED...