- Rating:
- PG
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Characters:
- Dean Thomas Harry Potter Hermione Granger
- Genres:
- Romance General
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
- Stats:
-
Published: 06/13/2002Updated: 06/13/2002Words: 1,266Chapters: 1Hits: 2,263
From Behind A Bookshelf
carla
- Story Summary:
- Everything you need to know in life: What dust-filled bookshelves do to noses, and what love-filled environment do to (*cough*) undercover operations.
- Posted:
- 06/13/2002
- Hits:
- 2,263
- Author's Note:
- Hi, everyone! This is my first fic in english ^_^ Rather short, and sweet enough to give you cavities. But what can I do about that? ^^;;;
-----------------------------
From behind a bookshelf
-----------------------------
Dean scrunched up his nose as he searched for a book Professor McGonagall
had asked him to find. One of the disadvantages of being Head Boy was that
he had to spend a lot of time in the library. And the library was full of
dust, which wasn't good for his poor nose.
How to apply a "Reparo" charm on those broken rules, was the title
of the book the deputy Headmistress had asked him to find. How wizards and
witches, being so intelligent and all, could put such stupid titles to their
books remained a mystery to him, even with the seven years he had spent in
the wizarding world. Thank God his skill was drawing and not writing, he thought
while getting the book out of the bookshelf and holding it in his hand. And
even more of a mystery was how people could actually read books with such
stupid titles. He was pretty sure that McGonagall was going to make him read
it. Maybe he should give it to Hermione; he had to admit that it DID look
like the kind of books she'd read.
And speaking of the devil... Through the space that was left when he pulled
the book out, he could see the familiar bushy brown head, sitting at the
table that was directly in front of that bookshelf. He was almost face to
face with her profile, that was bent over a book that appeared to be about
Potions, as she was whispering something about stirring, and cauldrons. And
sitting beside her was none other than The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter.
Oh, boy, was this going to be interesting, thought Dean, putting the book
under his arm to get a better look at the pair. If he could get an earful
of their conversation, Ron would owe him a lot of money. So, he left all
thoughts of his Head Boy-ish duties out of his mind, and put on the spy gear.
Harry and Hermione had been "going out" for almost a week and a half. The
news were officially confirmed during a Charms study session, and promptly
spread all throughout Gryffindor Tower, and almost all of Hogwarts. Everyone
was happy for them, you know, they were the kind of couple who girls looked
at and giggled, wishing they were in a relationship like that. They looked
radiant and very in love whenever they were together.
Still, the Gryffindor 7th year boys were getting a bit suspicious. Days
were passing, and the most intimate contact they'd had in public was holding
hands. There had to be something wrong... there was no way they could be
so platonic. Sure, they weren't the type to be caught half-dressed on top
of the Astronomy Tower, but they were sure no hot-blooded, biologically healthy,
17-year-old male like Harry was could resist stealing a few kisses. But he
wasn't saying anything about the time he spent with Hermione, and she wasn't
the most chatty girl when it came to boy-talk with Parvati and Lavender,
either. So, either they were really shy, really weird, or the whole thing
was really a fake.
Thus, the boys decided to keep an eye on them, to figure out what exactly
was the reason for such an intriguing situation. ("Operation S.N.O.G.", Ron,
their self-proclaimed leader, had taken to call it-- "Sneaking at Night to
Observe those Gits.") So far, they'd had no luck at all. They had almost
gotten caught by Filch twice in three days, while going out to catch the couple
on those famous "walk-dates" they had around the lake. And they hadn't seen
as much as a hug from them. Ron was getting desperate, to the point where
he said he would sell Pig and give the money to whomever could bring him
ANY information of what Harry and Hermione did in private.
And while Dean was sure that Ron wouldn't have the guts to actually sell
his hyperactive little owl, he could use some money. Besides, eavesdropping
on Harry and Hermione was fun. He felt like James Bond.
He looked at the title of the book he had under his arm again.
Well... not quite 007.
He leaned more into the bookshelf, trying to hear the voices a bit more clearly.
He had seen this in movies-- no librarian in sight, perfect time for a necking
session between piles and piles of books. He didn't want to see them getting
it on... eww. So he'd just listen for a bit, and then leave when things started
getting hot and heavy.
"...and then you add the Belladonna roots, stir it a bit, and wait until
it turns a pale green color. See? As simple as that," Hermione was saying.
Harry took off his glasses and pressed his palm against his eyes. "I'm not
getting this, Hermione."
"I'll help you, but you have to copy it down first. Remember, the essay
is due this Monday," she reminded him.
Harry grumbled something about Snape being a crazy git, and resumed writing.
A few minutes passed, and the only thing Dean could hear was Harry's quill
rasping against the parchment, and Hermione skimming throught the pages of
a book that seemed to be bigger than she was. Now he was getting bored, thought
Dean.
Only a bit later, Harry suddenly stopped writing. He dropped his Eagle Feather
Quill on top of his parchment, and turned his head to look at Hermione, who
was concentrating on the MediMagical antidotes for aging potions. His eyes
were glazed, his expression amazed, as if he were seeing an angel for the
very first time, and didn't think himself worthy of such an honor.
But it was only Hermione. He had seen her countless times, thought Dean.
She wasn't even looking that pretty this morning.
"You're so beautiful," Harry said.
And it wasn't just a phrase. It had come straight from his heart, filled
with all the incredible feelings that he had inside him at that moment. She
looked up when she heard the words, gazing directly into his eyes, and blushed
a little.
"And I love you," he concluded.
They kept their gaze until Harry snapped out of the trance. Shaking his
head a bit, and blushing too, he lowered his eyes to his parchment, took
the Eagle Feather Quill in his hand, and started writing again.
Hermione kept looking at him, cheeks still rosy, with a small smile adorning
her lips. Wordlessly she stood up from her chair, and went to stand behind
Harry. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his left
shoulder. Then, with one hand, she started playing with his hair, in soft,
constant caresses.
It was then that Dean understood that they didn't need kisses or snog sessions
to prove their love. It was there, lying between them, in every glance they
shared, every little touch, and every single thought. They were connected
on a deeper level than other couples their age were. Operation S.N.O.G. would
have to find other targets, for he thought scenes like this were too personal
to be spied on.
He slowly turned around and left, being careful not to make any loud noises
that could make his presence known.
He didn't see Harry turn his head around, and Hermione lean downwards to
press her lips softly against his in the purest of kisses. He didn't see
them rest their foreheads together, closing their eyes. And he didn't hear
Hermione's soft whisper of "I love you too," either.
-----------------------------
~* fin *~
-----------------------------