While You Were In A Coma

While you were in a coma

Hermione was walking to the Great Hall; she was coming back from a ten-minute library break she got after her Arithmancy class. She was alone because Harry was still in Divinations. Another unsuccessful search for Ron's cause and she was beginning to turn depressed again. But, dwelling on negative feelings wasn't going to help her right now. So she turned her mind elsewhere, to more positive feelings, she didn't need to think really hard to find one.

She recalled the sensation of waking up in Harry's arms with excruciating detail. She'd had a goodnight's sleep, and she could feel her body waking up from the numbingly blissful sense of relaxation. But there was a new feeling this morning-one she had never experienced before. It was one of inexplicable comfort, security and warmth, all combined together to create something searing and delightful.

When her eyes opened, she realized she was still in the common room, in the same sofa from last night. But her position had changed. Her head was now resting on Harry's chest, her hands resting lazily at his waist. The book they had been reading was resting on Harry's lap, while his hand was atop the open book. She could feel the weight of Harry's other arm by her shoulders. She was so at peace that she wanted to close her eyes and sleep a bit longer. All rational thought flew out of her head, and thoughts scattered, regrouped, and scattered again. But the tiny part of her brain that was capable of reason seemed to be aware enough to form a single thought: that they were in that position, in the common room and that at any given moment, any one of her fellow Gryffindors could come down and see them. Slowly but surely, she straightened up, but again came to an abrupt halt when her eyes, which she'd kept off Harry, broke her resolve and fell directly at Harry's sleeping face. His head was hanging loosely, resting his chin at his chest, but with a particular angle that made it possible for Hermione to admire his features carefully.

It was strange how much his features changed when he was asleep, but they seemed somehow softer. With his muscles relaxed, he appeared much younger, like when she had first met him. Except, he wasn't that little boy anymore, this much was obvious! He had mature features, strong eyebrows, and a perfect nose, all topped by uncharacteristically soft skin (for a guy). His face was just the perfect mix between an innocent child and a young man to make him so...handsome.

Hermione's lips curled up in a small smile when she saw his raven hair falling messily atop his forehead; so early in the morning, and his hair was already misbehaving. Even so, it still looked too silky to be allowed and Hermione couldn't stop her left hand from beginning to move to his hair (her right arm was still across his waist, but who was noticing?). Her eyes were still upon his delicate-looking skin, which now seemed to acquire a soft pink glow. She was aching to touch his hair or move his bangs away from his eyes, but just as her fingers were millimetres away, Harry let out a small groan and began to fuss.

Hermione suppressed a surprised gasp as she hurriedly dropped her hand. Flustered at the possibility of Harry waking up and finding her in such a compromising position, she moved her arm that was over his chest. Unfortunately, the button of her pajama sleeve apparently was caught on Harry's bathrobe or something, because as she tried to yank her arm rapidly, she managed to jerk Harry along.

Harry gave a surprised sound as his eyes popped open at the sudden jerk. He seemed less disoriented than when she had woken up, for as soon as his eyes opened, they focused on Hermione's sitting form. "Good morning," he greeted, his voice raspy.

Hermione didn't answer, as she was trying not to blush furiously, but it was a vain attempt. She was extremely conscious that she was seated as close to Harry as she could get without being in his lap, and that her hand was now stuck on his chest. Hermione was shocked, and waited for Harry to realize the position she was in, and push her aside. But he wasn't moving; he simply stayed in his position, watching her intently. As Harry held her gaze, Hermione doubted her face could ever heat up this much again. But then she remembered that he was probably waiting for her to answer. "Good morning," she made out in a tiny voice, while scolding herself for inventing false intention from Harry.

He seemed to smile, but Hermione stopped paying attention as soon as she noticed Harry's eyes had moved to her arm that was atop of him. "Umm...sorry for waking you up so brusquely...it's just...that...well..." Hermione tried to explain as she was pulling at her stuck sleeve for visual aid. "As you can see...the button...it got...stuck..." she continued, feeling completely stupid for her lack of eloquence or at least coherency to her explanation. Anyone who could hear her right now would ask if this was the same girl who could write a two-parchment essay without running out of synonyms. It certainly didn't sound like it.

Harry sat up a little straighter as he searched for the root of her button-dilemma. "Ah- here's your problem," Harry said seconds later, and he grabbed her wrist, not noticing Hermione's sudden intake of air. Harry slowly lowered his head to her hand.

Hermione didn't know what Harry was doing, for she could only feel. She could only feel the warmth speeding throughout her body, feel her head go light when the very side of Harry's lips lightly touched the exposed skin on her wrist. Her skin came to life with a blast of tingling sensations. She felt her entire body would explode any minute now from the white-hot sensation that was running through her veins.

"There." Hermione barely heard Harry speak through the ringing in her ears. But she did realize that her wrist had become distanced from Harry's bathrobe. "A thread was caught on your button," Harry detailed with the thin piece of blue thread still hanging from his mouth. Only then did Hermione realize that Harry had just cut the thread with his teeth, which was why she had felt his lips.

"Thank you," Hermione mustered, reluctantly moving her arm away, now that it was free. However, she didn't appear to be moving away from him.

Harry sat up, straightening completely and passing his hand through his fringes, spiking it more than usual; he was running his hands up and down his thighs, seemingly gathering up the nerve to speak. "So?" he cleared his throat, "it seems we..." he continued making a hand gesture signaling the sofa and the two of them.

"We-er- did it again?" Hermione surmised, clearing her own throat.

Harry finally turned to her and smiled. "Yes. We've been doing it a lot lately," he joked laughing slightly.

"Yeah..." Hermione lightly agreed as she played with her hands, "but...strangely enough, they have been the only occasions when I actually sleep...without any dream," Hermione continued blushing at her choice of words.

"Well, not that strangely," Harry put in, as he shifted in his spot to face her completely, "It's been the same for me."

Hermione smiled, trying not to be so overjoyed, Harry doing the same. Just then, muffled noises began to float down from the dormitories. Harry and Hermione shared alarmed glances as they began to rapidly straighten up the sofa. Harry started folding her blanket, while she picked up her book. "We better go, before anyone sees us," Harry opined; Hermione nodded her head in agreement, and they started to hurriedly make their way to the stairs. When they arrived to where the stairs divided, each leading to their own dorms, Harry handed her the blanket he'd been carrying.

"Well, see you later," Hermione said before starting on the stairs.

She was up to the eighth step before she heard Harry say, "Hermione." She turned around to see him standing still at the rest, hesitating before he spoke. "Same time and place tomorrow?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat when she realized what he was talking about. "Yes!" Hermione answered happily, trying to control the muscles of her face from making her grin so broad; realizing she must have spoken too rapidly she added, "Could we...please?"

She saw his smile turn a little nervous. "Of course," he answered. "It would be great," she thought he heard him say at the end, but he had mumbled, so she couldn't be sure.

Harry didn't say goodbye as he rapidly turned around and bounded up the stairs two at a time. This time it was Hermione who stood rooted to her step as she saw him disappear into his room.

***

Hermione hugged the books she had taken out of the library a little tighter to her chest as she remembered this incident. She couldn't believe it had happened just four hours before. Equally unbelievable was that she was going to do it again, tonight. She had actually arranged to sleep with her best friend. Well ok, not sleep with him as in...she stopped her line of rationalization. I can't believe that I'm actually correcting myself mentally. Shaking her head to clear her previous thinking, she continued walking. This isn't a suitable topic of mental conversation, Hermione thought. After all, it wasn't anything at all- she was just going to sleep with...argh!!! Stop thinking about it!!!

She had to concentrate on something else if she was going to keep her sanity for the rest of the day. As fast as it came before, another memory entered her mind, of the same morning.

After seeing the wooden door of the boys dormitory close, Hermione rearranged the blanket and book in her hands and continued walking to her own room. She had skillfully avoided a pair of first year girls going down behind a pillar, waiting until they disappeared. Carefully walking to her the door of the fifth-year girls dorm, Hermione glanced both ways before reaching for the knob. But just as she was about to turn it, the door was rapidly opened and Lavender came into her view. "Oh, dear God!" Hermione gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth to prevent her for screaming. "For Merlin's sake, Lavender, don't do that!"

Hermione was having a hard time reading Lavenders expression, for it was completely blank. Lavender's eyes went directly to Hermione's arms, which were holding the blanket and her book tightly against her chest. "You didn't sleep here last night," she said in an indescribable tone that Hermione didn't know if it was a question or a statement.

Hermione fidgeted in her spot, Lavender was blocking the entrance and didn't appear that she was going to move. "Umm, yes...I mean, no, I didn't sleep here. I was having trouble again, so I went down stairs to read, and I fell asleep on the sofa," Hermione explained, happy with herself for the explanation; it was, after all, a very good version of the truth.

Lavender didn't respond right away. "Really?" she answered with an unconvinced tone, one eyebrow raised.

Hermione was getting a little unnerved by Lavender's demeanor, it was as if she could see right through her, as if she knew the truth. Lavender opened her mouth, ready to answer her own question when a sharp noise was heard inside the bedroom. Hermione jumped as Lavender glanced coolly towards the room. "Parvati is in the bathroom," Lavender informed; dropping her arms from the frame of the door and standing aside, "if you don't want her to find you out, then I suggest you hurry," she concluded just before she walked out and disappeared down the stairs.

Hermione couldn't waste time following Lavender's steps as soon as she'd stepped out of her way, Hermione hurried to her bed, as Parvati's noise from the bathroom increased. She rapidly threw the blanket and her book, against all of her previous beliefs of proper book care, on the bed and shut the drapes just as the bathroom door opened and Parvati came out, already dressed in her school robes.

"Good morning," Parvati greeted brightly walking to her bed.

"Good morning," Hermione responded a little out of breath.

"Are you alright?" Parvati questioned while she grabbed her schoolbag from her bed. Fortunately for Hermione, Parvati didn't wait for an answer when she noticed their roommates's absence. "Where's Lavender?" she inquired with an edge on her tone.

"She already left-"

Parvati immediately interrupted, "Left? I specifically asked her to wait for me!" she exclaimed indignantly, as she headed to the door, stomping her feet in evident anger. "What's wrong with her?" Hermione heard her ask just before she closed the door behind her.

Hermione just sagged to her bed, relieved that she wasn't discovered by another one of her roommates.

***

Now, as Hermione continued walking through the corridors, she couldn't help to ponder that question also. What was wrong with Lavender? She had been acting very strangely indeed. She would have expected the news that Harry had slept in their room (and in her bed nonetheless) spread throughout all of Hogwarts at the first minute, but she was completely wrong. Lavender had kept the secret, she hadn't mentioned the incident to her all this time; not even to Parvati, who was her best friend, that was what had surprised her the most. And the fact that she hadn't was the greatest evidence that something was happening to her.

Hermione hadn't mentioned any of this to Harry, but perhaps she should. Harry...The tiniest little ping escaped her heart, accompanied with the strangest feeling that was suddenly urging her to look up. As soon as she conceded to this feeling, she found herself staring directly into the Harry's amazingly bright, emerald eyes, all the way across the hall, standing in the opposite side of the door of the Great Hall. She immediately halted as she smiled at him, highly doubting if he could even distinguish her between the throng of students that were walking into the hall for lunch. As she stood there, her gaze not leaving him, she was baffled at how his piercing eyes stood out so effortlessly.

When she was going to resume her walking, Harry smiled back.

He did see her.

***

Harry rearranged the strap of his schoolbag as he was coming down a flight of stairs. He then proceeded to rub his temples in a slow circular motion, trying to soothe away all of the mental strain that usually came along with Divination. This was one of the classes that he missed Ron the most, he mused, making his way to the corridors that led to the Great Hall, all alone. Ron's antics and mere presence made the entire experience bearable; they were always laughing and making jokes about Professor Trelawney's "inner eye" (not the best way to make good use or learn from a class, but who can blame him?). It was terribly depressing to walk out of the classroom alone as the rest of the class clustered into their small cliques (Dean and Seamus arguing about Seamus' new favorite football team, "East Ham? Please!") Parvati and Lavender giggling nonstop, usual behavior for them after class; although Lavender gave him a very strange look before she continued walking. Harry just shrugged it off as post-Divination stress on his part. He felt so alone, and not even Hermione was here. As soon as he allowed himself to think of her, the still burning memories of that very morning burst into his head.

For the fifth time that day (but who was counting?)

As Harry surfaced from the aching numbness of sleep, the first thing he felt was a weight, a never before experienced weight on his chest. But even so, he knew what was applying it even before he looked down. He knew because his senses were so blissfully accustomed to the person in question, from her light, sweet, smell coming from her hair, to the way her brown locks flowed to her shoulders. But at the same time his senses were assaulted with information he never knew before, like how steady and calm her breath became when she was asleep and once in a while let out a comfortable sigh, or how soft her hair actually was from the way it tickled his chin.

The very first night they had spent together, he had been so shocked to have awoken next to her, that he had moved away as fast as he could without waking her up, and he hadn't let himself take the opportunity to register the new sensations. But all of this was changing right now.

The sunlight coming from the windows basked happily on her hair, making it look a shade lighter. He slowly moved his arm from the back of the sofa to her hair; from so many observations his interest was ignited, and now all that he wanted to do was to touch it or at least run his fingers through it. Just for the desire of scientific research, to prove it softness. His hand traveled the empty space until he was close enough that her stray hairs tickled his palm. Just as he was about to actually touch it, he got anxious, what if she woke up? What if it felt so good that he wouldn't be able to stop? But his arm being so close couldn't stop from resting on her shoulder, his hand getting comfortable enough to rube her shoulder. Suddenly Hermione started fidgeting in her spot, mumbling incoherently. Harry got scared and wanted to immediately drop his arm, but then it would be extremely suspicious and she could notice, so he left his arm in its place. But that wasn't the extent of his arrangements as soon as he saw (and felt!!) Hermione's body straighten up from her sleeping position he rearranged his head and closed his eyes making it look as if he was still asleep. He felt rather silly doing all this playing around, but he really didn't want Hermione to start dreaming up things he could have been doing while she was asleep (you know how her mind works).

So he laid perfectly still, feeling the weight lifting and the warmth leave just as suddenly. He was expecting her to move away as soon as she realized the position they had woken up in (he was sure they weren't like that before they'd fallen asleep, he had made sure of that), but it didn't happen, she seemed to stay in her place, he could still feel her arm across his chest.

Minutes past and he got this new sensation, as if he was being regarded intently, he wasn't sure how could he even know this (his eyes were closed!) but he was certain he could feel her eyes traveling through his face. Suddenly, he felt terribly self-conscious of being subjected to such scrutiny (did he drool while he slept?), he could feel his cheeks grow hot and hope it didn't actually show in his skin. Feeling as though the farce had gone long enough, he commenced doing waking up noises (at least he hoped that is how they sounded). Originally he had planed to continue on with the act, (complete with a full blown yawn), but he was startled out of his performance by a sudden jerk at his chest. His eyes burst opened and focused immediately on how close Hermione actually as now that she was sitting up.

"Good morning," he heard himself talk, the greeting coming out automatically.

Hermione didn't answer, she appeared rather uncomfortable, but that only gave Harry the opportunity to gaze at her face. Her eyes were hazy, probably from lingering sleep, but the intensity of their brown coloring was not lessened. What he found particularly funny (or was it cute?) was that the fabric of his terrycloth bathrobe was marked into her skin where she had rested her head on his chest. He led out a small smile at the little markings on her skin, and was about to comment about it, when she finally answered, "Good morning."

Her voice was so low that he felt he was probably embarrassing her from looking so intently at his face (he couldn't stop!), so he forced his eyes to look elsewhere, until they finally came down to her arm that was upon his chest. As soon as he had done this Hermione started rambling, "Umm...sorry for waking you up so brusquely...it's just...that...well..." he heard the rapid and apparently nervous words of Hermione, as he felt the tug of her arm at the cloth of his robe. "As you can see...the button...it got...stuck..."

As Hermione was explaining he turned down to her arm, examining it to look for the reason why she couldn't move. "Ah- here's your problem," he said a little disheartened to learn that the only reason why she hadn't taken her arm off was because she was stuck. Without thinking that it was faster and more practical to reach for his wand and fix the dilemma magically, Harry grabbed her softly by the wrist, ignoring the feel of her skin, as he bent his head down enough to be able to reach the pesky thread that had wrapped itself around Hermione's pajama button with his teeth. His lips have never experienced a sensation before as the one when they came into contact with the soft skin of Hermione's wrist. His main purpose was to cut through the nasty thread with his teeth, but while doing it his lips brushed against her and it felt as if actual electricity flowed from Hermione's wrist to his lips. The contact was short-lived, but it was enough to render Harry's lips numb long after he straighten up. "There," was all his mind could spare, while trying to control the spinning of his head, "a thread was caught on your button," he could still hear himself talk, never even noticing that the thread was still within his mouth.

"Thank you," the voice of Hermione broke into his rambled mind, making him snap out of this fog-covered area his mind had put itself in, as he felt Hermione's arm lift from his chest.

Now Harry was nervous, after this short moment of their attention being diverted it was time to talk, to stir out conversation with the mammoth task of not showing how affected he was of being so close and of experiencing all these kinds of mind-altering emotions. He sat up, playing around with his hair, he lost control of his hands as he seemed unable to start. "So?" he said lamely, "it seems we..." that was all his intelligence could contribute, so he was left to sign language, pointing to them sitting at the sofa.

"We-er-did it again?" Hermione completed his thoughts, as she always seemed to read his mind (even when it was so clouded as right now).

Harry, feeling relieved that she knew what he was talking about (as if she couldn't) smiled gratefully. "Yes. We've been doing it a lot lately," he winced immediately for the poorly worded meaning, but tried to save it by laughing slightly.

"Yeah..." Harry heard Hermione answered as he glanced rapidly to see her playing with her hands, "but...strangely enough, they have been the only occasions when I actually sleep...without any dreams."

"Well, not that strangely," Harry couldn't help put in as soon as he heard was she had said, for it was exactly how what he felt, "It's been the same for me."

Harry was smiling brightly at Hermione for their shared feelings, but was interrupted as soon as he heard his fellow housemates begin to make noises upstairs, meaning they were finally waking up. What followed was all very fast as he declared that they should go before they could be found and cleaned the spot where they had rested. They ran together to the stairs until they were at the middle rest. "Well, see you later," Hermione said as she rapidly started up her side of the stairs. But he couldn't let her go just like that; he knew that the fact that he had only slept when he was with her couldn't be a coincidence, it was just some kind of comfort being with her. He needed to make sure it could happen again, regardless of what his mind opinioned (are you crazy?!). "Hermione," he called before she disappeared, he hesitated as his judgment tried to prevent him from making a mistake, but it couldn't stop him, "Same time and place tomorrow?"

The seconds that passed appeared as hours as he nervously waited for Hermione's answer. He didn't want to think he had made an enormous mistake in thinking she would want (or feel) the same. "Yes!" was that happiness he heard in her voice? "Could we...please?"

He let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding waiting for her answer, and he was so relieved but at the same time extremely nervous as she accepted. "Of course," he responded to her still doubting question, and couldn't help "it would be great," to escape his mouth. He only wished it had been too soft and mustered for her to understand. He couldn't bear with this strain in his face to try to control the smile so he turned immediately and went up the stairs two at the time, desperate to get away from her piercing gaze.

As he cracked the door opened silently, to take a look into his dormitory, he was instantly glad all his roommates where such sleepyheads, none of them had woken up yet, so it wasn't any problem to sneak in and climb into the bed, as if he never left the night before.

***

So now, he didn't recollect how many hours later, he was weaving blankly between the rest of the student population, with his fingers touching his lips. And guiltily, remembering how it had felt, that miniscule second he had 'kissed' Hermione's skin. Hermione...He couldn't stop her name to coming to his mind so easily. This morning had stirred every possible emotion that existed within his being and at the same time woke up never before experienced feelings. Just as he was pondering the fact, he felt a strange tug at his stomach, it wasn't hunger that was for sure, but something else, a sensation that alerted him to look up. As he obeyed, he came in straight contact with Hermione's chocolate eyes and was so surprised of how they didn't seem to lose the intensity in them just because of the distance. She was all the way across the hall, she appeared to be smiling but he couldn't be sure, he just couldn't stop staring at her. When he saw her start walking, he smiled at her, to try to grab her attention.

Mission successful.

***

Harry was walking as slow as he ever done so in his life. And it wasn't because it was late Saturday and he had spent almost every waking moment in the library or because the other part of the day he had spent it sat down on the painful chairs of the hospital wing talking to Ron about this year Quidditch strategy. It wasn't even because he was going to attend a class on a Saturday afternoon. No, the reason for his excessively slow speed was because the class he was heading for right at this minute was Ballroom Dancing (shudder). If someone had told him two weeks ago that he was going to be walking steadily, without the use of the Imperious curse, to Ballroom dancing class, he would have called him as demented as a salary-demanding house-elf, and sent him committed to St. Mungos immediately.

But that was where he was heading. And in every step he took, he asked himself why was he even doing this? But he knew the answer, and it was walking five steps in front of him. Hermione Granger, his best friend. It had been a great sacrifice on his part to accept, (Quidditch club sounded so alluring) yet he couldn't help the decision he made. Hermione's face had immediately lit up when she mentioned her performance in the extra-classes. It had been a long period of time since her features had gotten that excited spark, and he was going to do everything in his power to see her like that again, even if it meant making a complete fool of himself in the dance floor.

Hermione was walking with her academic-style pace (which basically meant hurriedly and a determined face) not wanting to be late for their first class; a spring in her set in anticipation. Unfortunately, Harry didn't seem to share her excitement. "Harry! Hurry up!" Hermione exclaimed, turning around to face him.

"I am hurrying," Harry replied, not modifying his speed.

Hermione's hands went to her hips, trying not to get exasperated (but what impression would they make if they were late!). "You are walking with the speed of a slug."

"A very fast slug," Harry retorted, evoking his most innocent tone.

A fleeting smile went by Hermione's lips before being replaced by a very stern scowl. "Don't be smart with me, Harry Potter," Hermione reprimanded, walking purposely towards him and grabbing him firmly by his wrist pulling him to achieve more velocity. "Now, hurry up or we are going to be late."

Ignoring the warm feeling he received with Hermione's touch, Harry added weight to his feet (he wasn't going to make it easy). "Oh, and who would want a calamity like that to happen?" he expressed as sarcastically as he could.

Hermione didn't answer, she just readjusted her hands for better leverage to pull him with more strength all the way to their assigned classroom.

The extra-curricular class was to be taken in a multi-purpose classroom Harry had never been in before at the northeast part of the castle. Harry believed it to be magically amplified, for it could not stretch to its total volume without taking up the space of the adjoining rooms. When they finally made it to the class (five minutes early, thank you very much), Harry was surprised to see a larger party that what he was expecting. There were ten students, but that was still fairly larger than his expectation. As soon as they made it through the large oak door a familiar pair of Gryffindors hailed them wildly. Hermione waved amiably at Ginny as they headed towards her, but Harry found it quite difficult to erase the impolite dumbfounded look on his face when he saw Neville Longbottom standing beside Ginny. Neville was famous for his lack of coordination, so he would be the last person Harry expected to see in a dancing lesson (unless he counted himself). When asking Neville about his reasons, as nonchalant and unsuspicious as possible, he was answered with a very logical explanation (in Neville's case), "Gran made me," he said gloomily, "said it was an important talent for a well brought up gentleman to have."

When questioned by Neville about his own reasons for attending this particular class, Harry got suddenly interested in Trevor's health, so he questioned him about it. After a short rendition of failed anti-loss spells, the door to the classroom was burst open and their teacher appeared.

"Hello, my children."

"Oh, no," Harry barely heard Hermione's lament over his own groaning. This wasn't possible.

"Well, the stars have smiled upon us today, to let us come together," Professor Trelawney said as she walked with a forced mysticism to the middle of the room. "For those who don't know me, I am Professor Trelawney, and I teach the wonderful but often misunderstood art of Divination," she pronounced with a flourish of her hands, "but from now on I will be your instructor in the art of dancing."

Harry was about to volt from his spot (nothing was going to make him go through this torture), when Hermione's hands grasped his arm and gave him a resigned small smile, immediately followed with an eye roll. Harry smiled back and stood in his place for the rest of Trelawney's speech (Ok, so some ONE could make him). After having to endure Trelawney's usual workings, involving predictions of ill fate to the younger students woven together with historical fact of the dance, she finally deemed it fit to start the class. "Well, children I think it is time to begin; and our first task is to arrange in partners..."

Harry stopped hearing Trelawney's voice as soon as she had said the word partners. He glanced rapidly at Hermione from the corner of his eyes. They had never officially established that by attending this class together meant that they were going to dance together, be partners. But it was a given, right? Did he have to ask her? Or did he...

"Mr. Potter!" Harry was woken up from his mental debate by Trelawney's familiar reprimanding tone.

"Yes?" Harry asked as he saw that the rest of the class have divided into boys and girls and lined up from short to tall.

"Would you be so kind as to join us and take your place in the line according to your stature," Trelawney spoke trying to control her displeasure.

It turned out that Harry was just one or tow inches smaller than Neville, so he stood in front of him watching Hermione placing herself just beside him. All right, so this was it, he was as ready as he could ever be. He was prepared to give this venue of ballroom dancing his entire attention. He wasn't going to let Hermione down.

"Harry?" the voice of his partner broke through his thoughts.

Harry again had become so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn't taken notice that they had already been put into couples. "Ginny?" he said trying not to sound as surprised as he felt, "But...I thought...that..." Harry blabbered as he searched the room for Hermione. She immediately caught his gaze with a long face, recovering fast into a calm smile to Neville, who was her newly appointed partner. "Wasn't Hermione-" he started pointing towards Hermione with a bemused look.

"Oh, no," Ginny rapidly interrupted with a wave of her hand, "it turned out that I am a few inches shorter than Hermione. So that makes me your partner," Ginny continued controlling the joy from being so obvious on her face.

"Ah," that was all the response he could muster, conveying in a single syllable all of the disappointment. However Ginny didn't seem to hear or notice such emotion.

"Your attention, please," Trelawney raised her voice. "We are going to start with one of the three rhythms of social dance; the slow rhythm."

Harry couldn't believe this, now above all he was going to dance with Ginny? "Now if you all stand in a straight line at arms length from one another..."

Harry was having a hard time concentrating in Trelawney's instruction. What was the point? He only joined this stupid class for Hermione's sake and now he wasn't even going to dance with her? He suddenly felt the weight of Hermione's gaze upon his face and turned to her. This time she didn't smile, she just maintained his steady gaze, trying to telegraph him her feelings.

"A slow is very simple and we are going to practice first stepping side by side." Trelawney was lecturing while walking by the line. "Stand with your feet together...yes, just like that." Trelawney stood up into the platform that was in the front of the class.

"Now, starting with you left foot you go 'side-touch, side-touch'," she explained as she did the steps, pulling her robes to the middle of her calf so that they could see the movement, "on the 'touch' you bring your free leg alongside of your supporting leg, but without transferring your weight." She did a half turn so that she could face the group with the usual extravagance she made in every one of her movements. "Understood?" she signaled extending her hands. The younger students were still a little shock about her entire persona, but they still nodded. "All right then, let's do it. Altogether now, side--touch, side--touch..." she pronounced as she did the steps along the students.

Meanwhile Harry had heard every detail of Trelawney's instruction, and was a little relieved that it wasn't all that difficult. But he still didn't move. While the rest of his pairs were imitating the professor's steps, his feet remained planted to the floor. Some part of his resolve had fizzled away as soon as he saw who was his partner, now that Hermione wasn't going to be with him, he didn't feel obliged to even try.

"Mr. Potter, you are getting behind!" Trelawney sing-songed as she continued with the steps.

Hermione craned her neck towards Harry and saw his discontent. After asking Neville for the favor, she traded places with him, so that she ended at Harry's side. "All right, Harry?" she asked sweetly.

Harry turned around surprised to see her suddenly beside him. "A little," he responded as the moment grew more bearable.

"The step isn't as difficult as you thought?" Hermione surmised.

"It doesn't appear so," he answered, a smile coming to his lips.

"Well, let's see then," Hermione challenged, still holding her smile, but now with an eyebrow raised.

Harry didn't respond as his attention was now engrossed in doing the steps. "Left-touch-right-touch." Hermione followed his step saying the words out loud to guide them. Harry found them easy to follow, but grace was still absent from the movements.

"Very well darling, very well done," cried Trelawney from her spot, "I have foreseen your rapid advance my children. So be not surprised if we continue on to more complex steps. Now we are going to walk around the room, starting on you left foot," Trelawney continued as Harry got prepared to not look silly. "You will step forward on 'one' and draw your feet together at 'two', and then will do the same with your right foot." Trelawney walked around doing the step a few times. "Come on then, one-two, one-two."

On this round Harry took a different approach, for rather than look at Professor Trelawney's feet, he turned towards Hermione, locking his eyes on hers. She responded and this time mouthed the counts. And he had to admit it to be a much better site than Trelawney's 'foreseeing' feet.

They made several repetitions and walked around the room, practicing the steps, until they were better acquainted to the form.

"Perfect children, just as it came to me in my vision," Trelawney proclaimed, ignorant of the general eyeroll that was becoming common between the students. "Now we are going to study the correct Ballroom Dance Positioning. You need to face each other, your shoulders parallel," Trelawney, who was walking through the lines, said while she arranged Hermione's shoulders (boring her many rings into them in the process). "Your bodies should be offset by ½ body distance to your own left," she proceeded to guide Ginny the said distance, while pulling her a few steps away from Harry ("too close dear," Harry though he heard). "Now boys, you place your right hand just below the woman's shoulder blade, fingers together and hand slightly cupped." Trelawney was having a hard time from keeping Neville's hand from trembling as she placed it on Hermione's back.

Meanwhile Harry had made the resolution of taking this stupid bloody class seriously, to show Hermione that he could dance. So he forced himself to place close attention to every detail, and do the best dancing he could. "Your right arm positioned away from your body, elbow pointing slightly to the side. Girls, your left arms should rest gently on the man's upper arm," her lecture continued as she helped a third-year girl with her grip, "with your thumb along the inside of his arm and your fingers draped over his shoulder. Your right hand rests in the palm of the man's left hand." Some of the girls were a little reluctant to touch hands, but not Ginny. She eagerly waited the touch, and controlled her breathing as she felt as if she was going to explode. While Harry's eyes made a quick brush towards the hand inside Neville's palm. "The joined hands should be raised to the eye level of the shorter partner." The instructions seemed to be over, so Trelawney just passed by the couples one last time correcting some little aspects of their forms. "Now that everybody is positions, lets start walking around the room with the slow. Remember to always stand ½ body distance, your right foot should be pointed in between your partners feet, so you don't step on each other's feet. Gentleman will start with your left to the front, the ladies same foot to the back, on my saying you will change direction. Altogether now, one-two..." The couples started giving their first steps as Trelawney guided the rhythm by clapping.

Harry had zoomed in on Trelawney's voice, fastidious as it may be, concentrating on moving his feet atone with her counting. Until now he wasn't having any problem keeping up. He hadn't stepped on Ginny's feet and was following the rhythm swiftly. He had to admit to be a little proud of himself for not being a total daft with the simple steps; he hoped Hermione could see his progress. He didn't seem to notice, as he stared directly at his feet the entire duration of the exercise, the small proud smile that adorned his face.

Ginny Weasly couldn't be more proud of herself, if she was made Head Girl right now in her fourth-year. She was at the moment in the position she had dreamed on being since she first met this stray, lost raven-haired boy when she was ten-years-old: and that was in his arms. And all because of great detective and investigation work on her part. As soon as the class parchments had apparated in the common-room, she had kept a watchful eye for Harry. When she saw him, after some time, finally grabbing a parchment, she immediately went for the attack. As Harry and Hermione sat in the sofa discussing about the possibilities, she was crouched in the back in her "tying-her-shoe" position, which gave her the perfect excuse to listen in to their debate without being obvious (OK, so she was kneeled tying her bloody shoe for more than ten minutes, but nobody noticed). She was certain that Harry would chose something difficult like sword dueling or something boyish like Quidditch club, and then she wouldn't be able to be in a class with him. So she was elated when they finally decided on Ballroom Dancing. Of course that didn't guaranty anything, so she had to rely on more tricks to be partnered with him. Which was as simple as bending her knees slightly to be smaller than Hermione. And now here she was, her hand in his, such comfort it brought her, just to have him touch her shoulder blade. The rush of having a four-year dream come into reality was going to her cheeks. She could hardly concentrate on the movements of her feet when she saw the small content smile on his beautiful lips.

"Ow, Neville my foot!" Hermione exclaimed for the fourth time since they began. She was having such a hard time, and she had to confess, felt irked for having so many problems with her partner. She knew the steps and could follow them easily, but Neville was stumbling and fumbling. Although, perhaps that wasn't the main reason for her discontent, maybe JUST maybe, it was because Harry seemed very happy to be dancing with Ginny. Did he find it so agreeable that he was smiling? The thought brought a frown to her features that only Neville's incessant stumping could distract her. "Ow! Neville that was my toe!"

"Sorry!"

"That was my other toe!!!"

"Mr. Longbottom, remember half body! Half body distance or you are going to stomp Miss Granger's feet flat!" Trelawney seeing Hermione vexation went to attend her, even though she wasn't her favorite student (her attitude alone for the art of Divination proved a flawed character), she had to control the situation of Neville's feet.

After various minutes of practicing the slow in partners, the class was over. "Excellent progress boys and girls. And now that you are familiar with the slow, which is the basic step of the Waltz, next class we are going to practice more complex but elegant steps. So may the fortune smile upon you to attend tomorrow's class," Trelawney waved as the students separated and started walking to the door. "Oh and Mr. Longbottom, be prepared, for a change is coming your way."

"Oh, no," Neville groaned as he dejectedly made his way towards the common room, "now what?"

All of the students scattered through the halls, while the four Gryffindors stayed together; Neville amazingly walking in front of the group, Ginny was keeping her pace with Harry, trying to engage him in a conversation, meanwhile Hermione was staying behind.

While nodding in automatic agreement to what Ginny was saying, Harry turned his head searching for Hermione, until he noticed she was left far behind. "I'll catch up to you later," said Harry in form of good-bye to Ginny before turning around and heading back towards Hermione. After staring numbly at Harry, Ginny turned and continued her walk.

Harry walked several steps behind and saw that Hermione was walking extremely slowly, he smiled as he spoke, "Hermione, you are walking with the speed of a slug."

Hermione just caught up with him as she smiled. "A very fast slug," she replied smugly.

Harry laughed until he saw the reason why Hermione have been so slow. "You are limping," he pronounced in concerned as he stepped beside her and tried to grab her arm.

"I am not!" responded Hermione hotly, avoiding his grasp, "I am just not applying the full weight of my body to my feet."

"Which is the meaning of the word limping if you look for it in the dictionary."

"Since when are you Lord of the Dictionaries?"

"Ok, so I haven't actually picked one up. But I can still see you are limping."

"Fine, fine! Neville stomped my toes to death! Are you happy now!?!" Hermione answered getting angry of admitting her pain.

"Now why would that make me happy?" Harry asked in a serious tone that made Hermione feel ashamed of hiding. "Do you want to go to Madam Pomfrey and get an anti-swelling potion?"

Hermione thought for a second, but really didn't want to explain her reasons for her ailments to the school nurse. "No, that's alright. It just a little swelling, I prefer to wait it out the Muggle way."

"Ok then, if that is what you want, why don't you go to the common room bring everything for our nightly reading session, while I go to the kitchen."

"Alright, but why are you going to the kitchen?" asked Hermione perplexed.

"I believe that the Muggle way can also involve to soak your feet in hot water. I'll go and ask Dobby for a big container and I'll meet you at the sofa."

"Harry, you really shouldn't-"

But Harry was already running towards the kitchen, so he didn't let Hermione finish her sentence.

TO BE CONTINUED...