Gentle Rain

Chapter 11 - A Train of Thought

The train was gently jerking Hermione's sluggish body and she would have fallen asleep if her thoughts didn't need her to be totally aware. She tiredly gazed over the snow-covered landscapes through the frosty window and tried to organize her thoughts about yesterday's events. Harry had dozed off opposite her, and would evidently sleep the whole journey to London; he had been stewed to the gills last night. It was fun though, to watch him dancing on the table imitating every member of the Weird Sisters... at the same time. Oh yes, the party was a great success. It seemed that everybody had enjoyed themselves. Even Mr Filch had danced cheek to cheek with Madam Pince, while Dumbledore had dropped out with Minerva to do some angel figures on the snow.

Suddenly Hermione remembered her gift. She had totally forgotten all about it. After watching the others opening their presents had been so amusing that she had just jammed her package into her purse and forgotten about it. With limp arms she lifted her handbag from the dirty floor and rummaged through it. In no time at all she was holding a small present wrapped in brown paper with a red seal on top of it. She cracked the seal and unwrapped the present with careful movements. Inside she found a small and elegant vial of something that smelled like... perfume? Is this a bottle of perfume, how weird. She thought, surprised, and sniffed the opened bottle again, a light and fresh aroma evaporated from it. It reminded her of tangerines and green tea. She had never been really keen on using women's scents because she was very sensitive to different and especially strong fragrances. Normally she preferred an odourless choice with her intimate productions, but this one didn't smell so bad. And the vial was quite charming. P O E was engraved in cursive letters on its side.

I wonder what that means. It's quite an odd name for a perfume, unless it isn't really perfume, but instead it contains bottled horror stories. Who is this from? The vial suggests heavily to Potions Master, but the aromatic liquid inside doesn't, unless it's really a poison. Yes, he could have created some potion that you think is a perfume and when you put it on to your neck, it'll strangle you while you're sleeping... I have to check this through at home. I don't want to wear anything that contains some magical effects unknown to me.

Why would I think it's from him? It could be from anyone, for example from Madam Pomfrey... or Dumbledore, he has such a good taste, except when it comes to sweets... of course Harry could have bought this too from Hogsmeade. There is that little boutique-like shop where he spends a suspiciously long time for a man...

Am I avoiding a certain subject here? Back to it then: What in Morgana's name happened yesterday? Someone kissed me, and kissed me hard, no doubt about that. Her heart started to pounder and her breath quickened just thinking about it.

Could it have been Harry?

Of course not and you know it!

Who am I trying to fool?

How it could have been anybody else than the man I danced with?

He was the only one who could have managed to do it, since I was standing so close to him.

Of course it was him but why?

Certainly he has not wanted me all the time and all that scoffing has been just an act to try to hide his true feelings of passionate love.

Oh please, I'm killing myself in laughter, it's too wild!

Maybe he just had a strong yearning for the touch of female lips that he couldn't help himself...

No, it was I, not anyone he would consider as a desirable woman.

Maybe he had been drugged with those gingerbreads of Madam Sprout. She did hint about some secret ingredients.

Oh holy Circe, she isn't that kind of a witch who would grow some illegal pot in a restricted area of greenhouses, not to mention to put it secretly in someone's Christmas cookies, into Snape's Christmas cookies... an interesting idea as it might be. She smiled mischievously, although she highly disapproved of everything that had something to do with drugs. In her opinion they were just a lousy and unhealthy substitute to magic.

Is my mind so mundane, there are other herbs too, magical herbs...

Oh, I just don't know, it all feels so surreal. I wish I could hash this out with someone, but I have a feeling Harry may not be the right person this time.

................................................................................................................................................................

All the time until the train arrived to a platform 9 ¾ Hermione reflected on Professor Snape's behaviour during this autumn to get even a slightest hint to help her solve the mystery.

I have always considered myself to be an exceptionally clever and observant person, not someone to be easily fooled. Then why do I feel like a fool now?

What was the meaning of the kiss?

Was it some kind of a joke?

Or revenge, no?

Well, it certainly was not something that I would think as revenge.

Then what?

I suppose my head is going to explode with all these unanswered questions and then I'll never get to know.

What an unbearable situation!

All of a sudden she was carried away by a reminder of those strong arms around her waist and that captivatingly cultivated but deeply manly scent; cedar, sandalwood, a little hint of bergamot and... was it frankincense?

Hermione shook Harry awake and together they got off the Hogwarts' Express.

"I think I'd better try to tidy myself a little, and a strong cup of coffee wouldn't hurt either," Harry said with a thick and dry tongue that was a consequence of being a too excessive party animal. "I feel sick, but I don't want to look sick when I'm in front of Molly Weasley's x-tray eyes."

"Oh, I'm feeling just fine, but I can lead you to some nice café, I'll even hold your hand if you need me to," Hermione said to her pale, ghostly looking friend.

"Would you, that's nice. I'm feeling a bit shaky, so thanks." Harry took Hermione's warm hand and leaned on her looking miserably weak. "How was your evening? You've hardly said a word after my little show on the table. Was it that bad, huh?"

"No Harry, it was the most amusing thing I've seen after Fred and George fooled Ron to eat that gnome poop," Hermione replied and laughed as she remembered that funny occasion a few years ago. Fred and George had gotten Ron to eat some gnome droppings as their new invented "chocolate beans" and when he realized their little trick, Ron lost his temper and chased his twin brothers all over the Burrow with their mother's old bra as a weapon. He intended to lasso, strangle and finally hang them on an apple tree with it. Harry, Hermione and Ginny had laughed till they couldn't breath anymore and finally Mrs Weasley came and ended the chase with one huge fit of hers.

"You're right," Harry smiled faintly; "It was such a silly looking scene. But why do I get a feeling you're trying to avoid something here? What happened? Did you drink yourself under the table and wake up in Mr Filch's bed?"

"Gods, NO! Where do you get these crazy ideas?" Hermione snapped in a tone which was too defensive to be believable. "I mean, it wasn't my fault, I behaved as a nice and decent young woman should, as I always do..."

"Yes? That sounds the most interesting? What wasn't your fault?" Harry looked suddenly very curious and feeling a whole lot better than he had five minutes ago. "You have to tell me everything."

"It's nothing, never mind, I didn't mean to say anything and you know what, you're acting just like those gay friends in some muggle TV-series like 'Sex and the City' et cetera."

"Who's trying to change the subject here?" Harry teased with a singing kind of voice. "I just need to know. Tell me so I don't have to start inventing any more possibilities myself."

"Yes, please, don't!" They had arrived at a small and nice café called 'Parnassos' and ordered an espresso and a pepperoni-salami-sandwich for Harry and a mint tea with a croissant for Hermione. Harry sat down and cast a very demanding look to the other side of the small and round table. Hermione tried not to notice it and ate her croissant until she got so annoyed of Harry's silent and insistent questions that she gave up.

"Okay, you win, fine. I danced with someone and then, when the lights went off, that someone kissed me."

"What? Who, who was it? You danced with everybody, including Mrs Norris... and what do you mean by the lights went off?"

"I'm not surprised. At that time you had put your head in the Christmas wine bowl and pretended it to be your diver's helmet. Perhaps you got cloves in your eyes."

Oh, that was it then. I was wondering what those black little things in my ears and hair were in the morning. Harry thought, but as he was determined to find out all the intriguing details about Hermione's night, he asked again, "Anyway, tell me immediately who the kisser was, or I need to do some legilimens with you, and then I'll get to know what you bought me for Christmas, not to mention all the other little secrets that nest under your hair."

"I don't know who it was... or, maybe I do, but it's just so unbelievable that - "

"Yes..." Harry tried to encourage her to say it aloud.

"I danced with Professor Snape, since Dumbledore made him ask me, and then it happened."

"You were kissed by Professor Never-Heard-Of-Shampoo Croockedteeth! Arrgh!" Harry almost fell of the chair as he howled with mixed astonishment and disgust.

"Maybe so, I can't be absolutely sure, since I didn't see him when he did it."

"Well, what happened then?" Harry took a firm grip of the table with two hands, so that another shock wouldn't be able to unbalance him again.

"Nothing. When Minerva re-lighted the candles, he was gone. I haven't seen him since. Not that I'd want to, anyway."

"That is such an incredible story; I can't wait to tell Ron. I'm sure he'll puke, it's so sick! Yikes!"

"No Harry, we can't tell Ron, nor anyone else!" Hermione pleaded. "Believe me; it'll be so much better if he never knows. Trust me on this one!"

"Okay, you may have a point there. He's always been pretty sensitive when it comes to you, and he still is. But please, tell me more... did you kiss him back? How did it felt? Was he good?" Shudders of repulsion ran down Harry's spine and for a moment he thought that there was something unnatural about his curiosity. Do I really want to hear this? He asked himself. Hell yeah!

"You are putting me in quite an embarrassing situation here, as always, but if you want to hear facts, then here you are: first of all you have to remember that it was dark, so I couldn't see him and at first I didn't realize it was him. Secondly, I had drunk a teeny-weeny bit of that wine."

"Hey Herm', you don't really need to make excuses to me, I'll understand." Or at least I'll try.

"It was okay, I guess. In fact it felt fine." Hermione had sudden goose bumps on her skin when she remembered the sensations that the kiss had caused her. His strong hands around her, understated scent of... was it sandalwood and bergamot, hmm... I'll have to find that out... Hey wait a minute; No I don't have to! What was I thinking?

"Fine? Just fine? Harry asked, as if he had read something more on her face.

"Well... it's a bit hard to..."

"Hard? He was hard?" Harry led her words a little bit further.

"No, or, I don't know... do we have to talk about this? I'm starting to feel very weird."

"Just tell me all, and then you'll never have to talk about it again," Harry insisted leaning towards her, so that he could hear all the details clear and loud.

"Well, he didn't say a thing to me, but he was a amazingly good dancer, smooth and confident. He had a strong grip in his hands and held me close enough to notice that he smelled very good."

"Yes, sure... What about the kiss? Any tongue?"

"Oh please Harry, it felt fine, exiting, good, passionate, forceful... what else do you want to hear? If my pants got wet?" Hermione burst out, surprising herself more than she ever had before.

"Did they?"

Hermione rolled her eyes frustrated and said tightly, "Now you know everything you ought to know and a little bit more. This is the end of the subject! I'm dying to see my parents. Let's go!" She stood up and yanked her too-curious-for-his-own-good friend up to his feet.

"Do you want to share a taxi or would you rather Apparate?" she asked as they left the café and dragged their baggage along the icy pavement.