Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Chapter 11 Pranks and Payback

To the casual observer, nothing had changed in Harry and Hermione's relationship. They ate breakfast together most days and were occasionally seen walking down the hall talking and laughing. But that could have been the description of any two teachers at Hogwarts, with the possible exception of Snape who rarely laughed at all.

Keeping up the charade of a platonic friendship was a chore for Harry. Granted, he had to reluctantly admit that their relationship was still, technically, platonic. But in his mind the first obstacle had been cleared; Hermione finally saw him as something other than 'just Harry.'

Many times during the weeks following their trip to London he kicked himself for not telling Hermione how he felt about her. But he knew Hermione long enough to appreciate that she would not be comfortable with a sudden outpouring of emotion. Even when she and Ron were together, Harry couldn't ever remember seeing them display the normal amount of affection for teenagers in love. He assumed that in private things were much different, although, truth be told, it wasn't something he wanted to dwell on.

Harry knew her reluctance to take their relationship to a different level was tied to Ron and his death. As he had many times over the past few months, Harry wondered why she couldn't or wouldn't talk to him about it. He was reasonably sure Hermione had come to terms with Ron's death and had adjusted to his absence from her life. They reminisced many times about their experience at Hogwarts and laughed together, recalling fond memories of things Ron said and did. But there was a definite line they did not cross. By unspoken rule, they never mentioned Ron's and Hermione's relationship and they especially didn't talk about the night he died. Harry hadn't pushed the subject or spent much time pondering it because of the guilt he still felt for Ron's death. Even now, with a potential relationship with Hermione on the horizon, he still believed he would sacrifice himself in Ron's place if given the chance.

Although their relationship wasn't at the level Harry wanted it to be, it had changed, if only slightly. Of course, his upbringing still made him doubt that he was even worthy of her love. His insecurities, which had been born and nurtured by the Dursleys, constantly made him wonder if he was reading too much into things she did and said. Holding eye contact for a beat longer than necessary, touching his arm for no reason at all while telling a story, blushing when he caught her looking at him at breakfast ... these could all easily be explained away.

She had been lost in thought. She hadn't really been looking at me so much as through me. We had been walking down the front steps and she grabbed my arm to keep from falling. That day at breakfast, I bet I had food on my chin and she was too embarrassed to say anything.

Then he would think back to their conversation that morning in the flat above the Green Irishman and remind himself that there was something there. In all honesty, he couldn't remember too many specifics about the conversation. What he remembered most was the sudden realization of the position they were in following their tickling battle. He was straddling her legs when she looked at him and whispered his name. There had been no doubt in Harry's mind that she wanted him to kiss her. That is, until she caught him with his defenses down and flipped him over to gain the advantage and tickle him some more.

He was impressed with her strength; he would have never guessed that she could have done that. Although his male ego insisted that if he had been on his guard, the scene might have ended the way he had hoped, with a good, long snogging session.

Patience, Potter, patience.

That was the mantra he chanted to himself continuously when he was around Hermione. All of her mannerisms that he loved -- how she chewed on her bottom lip when she was thinking, the way her reading glasses slipped down her nose slightly, the look of stern disapproval she gave students (and sometimes Harry) -- just endeared her to him even more. It was not easy, to be sure. But his patience was necessary for his long-term goal, which was to have Hermione fall in love with him. He was not interested in a short, physical relationship. More accurately, he was not interested in the "short" part. He wanted a long-term relationship with Hermione. If he had to suffer through an initial period of discomfort and frustration, then so be it. He had not waited this long to jeopardize his dream just because he was peckish.

His understanding and patience didn't mean that he wasn't disappointed in the would-be snogging session that Hermione shattered when she flipped him off of her. She bruised his ego on two levels that morning, and as a result, Harry felt that a bit of good-natured retaliation was in order.

Hermione stood at the front of her classroom, shooting off rapid-fire questions to her first year students in review for an upcoming exam. She had been talking almost non-stop for the past hour and was parched. She set her students to practicing Switching Spells as she retreated to her desk to grab a drink of water. She continued to sit at her desk, feeling confident that she had reviewed the students thoroughly, when she felt a slight twinge in her side. Absently, she rubbed her ribs and took another drink. Again, she felt a twinge, although this one was strong enough to make her choke on her drink, spewing some water across the parchment lying in front of her.

She smiled faintly as the few students at the front of the room looked up from their work to see her dabbing at the parchment with a tissue. She felt the side of her robe, searching in vain for a tag or pin that might be poking into her side.

"Professor Granger?"

"Yes, Julia."

"Could you watch and tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

Hermione started walking to the back of the room, "Of cour..." She laughed out loud before she could finish her reply. This time, it was not merely a twinge on her side, but a strong tickling sensation in the center of her abdomen. As quickly as it started, it stopped and Hermione found herself doubled over, looking at the floor with what she was sure amounted to a silly grin on her face. Straightening up, and regaining her composure amidst curious stares from her students, she continued to the back table.

"Show me what you are doing," she said briskly.

Julia gave her a suspicious look and turned her attention to the quill she was attempting to turn into a worm. Just as she said the incantation, Hermione burst into a fit of giggles, the result of tickling sensations under her arms, on the back of her neck and behind her knees. Being tickled in multiple places at once, Hermione was trying, and failing brilliantly, to stop the sensation by swiping at the air with her hands. To her students, it looked as if she was doing a very bad dance move. Again, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

The laugh died in Hermione's throat and again she realized her students were gazing at her with perplexed faces. Only now they were whispering amongst themselves; Hermione could hear some of the muffled phrases. "Is she okay?" "She isn't trying to dance, is she?" "I've never heard her laugh before."

She looked around the room at the students staring at her, trying to gauge who was performing the Tickling Charm on her. She was met with completely guileless gazes and realized that no student in this first year class had the skill or experience for that charm. Realization dawned on her as she walked back to her desk, surveying the edges of the room. Smiling in spite of herself, she noted the door to her classroom was open.

"Carry on, class. You only have five more minutes to practice. You will be taking your exam the next time you walk through that door and many of you need all the practice you can get."

At her businesslike tone the students began practicing once again. Hermione walked around the perimeter of the classroom and planted herself by the door. She leaned against the doorjamb and whispered under her breath. "Harry, I know you are here, somewhere. A tickling charm -- very clever, I must say. Just remember before you do it again...payback is hell." She grinned, seemingly at herself and strolled back up to her desk.

She hardly reached the front of the room before her entire body was being tickled mercilessly. She doubled over, then stood up, then lifted each leg in turn flailing her arms around like a helicopter, all the while laughing fit to burst. Her students were beside themselves. None of them realized that she was only being tickled. A loud murmur of concern rose through the class.

Between giggles, Hermione managed to say, "Not...to worry....it.......is....only a....ti..ckl....ing...charm.....Mercy! Mercy! You win! Please make it..."

And it was gone.

"...stop," she said faintly, and the bell rang signaling the end of class. She never saw students bolt from a room so quickly. Within seconds she appeared alone. She straightened up and narrowed her eyes, searching the room for any sign of Harry or his invisibility cloak. She stood there stock still, listening intently for a rustle of fabric, the tread of footfalls. Nothing.

A sly smile slowly spread across her face. "You just wait, Harry Potter. You just wait."

Weeks passed.

Harry was still waiting and wondering if and when Hermione was going to take her revenge for his prank. If he hadn't heard her warning in the classroom that day, he would still be wondering if she knew that he was the one doing the tickling. At dinner that night, he arrived to hear the end of her conversation with McGonagall and Snape about the incident.

"...any idea who did it?" McGonagall said as Harry sat down on the other side of Hermione.

Hermione had waved her hand, "No. It was an innocent prank. No harm done. It scared the first years, though. Their reaction was funnier than the prank." With this last comment, Hermione had looked at Harry with one eyebrow raised. "Hello, Harry."

"Hermione. Did I miss something? Did a student prank you?" Harry asked innocently.

Snape, sitting three seats down on the other side of McGonagall, snorted. "As if you didn't know," he said, under his breath.

"Excuse me, Severus. What was that? I couldn't hear you," Harry said sweetly.

With forced calm, Severus put his fork down on his plate and wiped the edges of his mouth with his serviette. "I said, 'as if you didn't know.'"

"Surely you aren't suggesting that I would pull a prank on a teacher!" Harry said.

"That is exactly what I'm suggesting. You find other people's humiliation to be highly amusing."

"That is just not true. Besides, I like Hermione, why would I want to humiliate her? There are plenty of other people I would rather humiliate."

Snape started to rise from his chair, glaring at Harry. "You..."

Grabbing Snape's arm to keep him from standing, Professor McGonagall interrupted the growing tension. "That is enough, you two."

Hermione, who had continued eating during the exchange, said, "It really doesn't matter which student did it. It was harmless and actually a very weak prank. I'm sure they will get paid back sometime by someone else."

That was the last he heard about the prank from her. He did hear some students talking about it, but once they realized it was a tickling charm the mystery wore off and discussion about it ended. All in all, the furor lasted less than a day.

Fred and George would be ashamed.

Harry shook his head, trying as he had so many times over the past few weeks to clear his thoughts of Hermione and focus on the task at hand: the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff Quidditch game that day.

His goal from day one had been to develop and improve the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams so as to break the stronghold Gryffindor and Slytherin had on the Quidditch Cup. Although he would always be a Gryffindor supporter, he knew from a fan's point of view that matches with predetermined outcomes were no fun to watch. His attention to these two teams had reenergized not only their Quidditch players but also both houses. As a result, the race for the House Cup was the closest in years, and the Quidditch Cup, although probably still to be won by Gryffindor or Slytherin, was at the very least more interesting.

At first the Gryffindors felt betrayed by Harry's attention to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. But as time wore on and they saw him giving each team, even Slytherin, equal time and advice this feeling abated. The Slytherins, on the other hand, would never believe that Harry wasn't playing favorites with everyone but them.

It didn't help that Snape was still the Head of Slytherin House and his animosity for Harry permeated everything. Although he couldn't prove it, Snape was positive Harry spiked his drink and caused him to talk like a woman for four days. At breakfast two weeks after his voice returned to normal, Snape threw the Daily Prophet in front of Harry; it was opened to an advert for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' newest product, "Hi-Pitch."

"What is it, Severus? Are you showing me the personal advert you placed? I don't know if 'Single White Male seeks Blind Desperate Female' is the wording I would have used."

With surprising calm Snape said, "Isn't it a coincidence that the Weasleys are offering a new product that sounds startlingly similar to what might have been put in my food?"

"Hmmm," Harry said, taking a bite of toast and reviewing the advert. "That is a coincidence! But," he said dismissively, handing the paper back to Snape, "Fred and George always were ahead of the competition."

"Are you still part owner of their ... business?" Snape said, emphasizing the last word disdainfully.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I guess. I've never asked to be repaid, if that is what you mean."

Snape leaned down and whispered to Harry, "If I find out that you were behind this prank, you will pay."

"Bring it on."

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have said that, Harry thought, replaying the conversation in his mind as he walked to the Quidditch Pitch. The jubilant sneer Snape gave Harry at those words sparked moderate concern. Now he had to worry about two people paying him back for a prank. He wasn't too terribly concerned about Hermione's payback; he wasn't sure if she had ever pulled a prank in her life. And anything she would do would be harmless. After all, they were friends. Snape, on the other hand, was his adversary and would gladly seize any opportunity that presented itself to humiliate him. Harry consoled himself with the reminder that Snape didn't know how to have fun, and as such, he would not be able to come up with a harmless prank. Snape's mind was better acquainted with "sinister" than "harmless." Still, Harry felt sure thatSnape would not pull a mean-spirited prank on another teacher, if only out of respect for McGonagall and Hogwarts.

"Alohomora," Harry said with a wave of his wand at his office door. It opened and he walked through to find Hermione standing by his locker, holding his broom.

Almost too quick to notice, a startled look flickered across her face. She smiled hugely, said, "Hi, Harry!" and put his broom back in his locker.

"Hi. What are you doing here?" He asked suspiciously, looking around his office.

"Waiting for you, silly," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I have to run into London today and wanted to know if you needed anything."

Harry, still searching his office for booby traps, gave her a quizzical look. "You aren't staying for the Quidditch match?"

"Oh, no. I usually only watch the Gryffindor matches. Really, the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw match is always the most long, drawn out, boring match. Not a good one for a marginal Quidditch fan to watch." She walked around his office casually, looking at the pictures of past Quidditch Cup champions. "You might want to drink something stronger than your neon blue sports drink to keep yourself awake. I recommend caffeine, and lots of it." She smiled sweetly at him over her shoulder, increasing his suspicion even more.

Pointing at a picture she said, "This must be the Gryffindor team that Oliver's coach was talking about."

Harry walked around his desk and stood next to her. He noticed that picture the first day in the office. Kneeling behind the Quidditch Cup in the center of the picture was his dad, holding the struggling Snitch, a jubilant grin across his face. Two burly boys, holding clubs marking them as Beaters, flanked James as three girls and a boy stood behind. Periodically, his dad would run his hand through his hair much as he had in Snape's pensieve memory, which Harry had seen during his fifth year occlumency lessons with the potions master. This mannerism spurred his teammates standing behind him to all ruffle his hair in good natured ribbing, causing James to playfully swat their hands away.

She turned to look at him. "Your dad was very handsome," she said.

Harry grinned at her. "Everyone says I look just like him."

Hermione looked from Harry to the picture and back again. "There may be a little resemblance there," she teased skeptically.

Harry leaned closer to her nudging her shoulder playfully with his. "So, you think I'm handsome?"

Hermione grabbed his chin and moved his head from side to side, inspecting his profile. "You'll do."

She dropped her hand and turned to pick up her bag that she had left on the chair. "I'd better be off. Lots to do. Have a good game, and don't forget my tip about the caffeine. You will thank me later, trust me." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, a huge smile, and glided out the door with a wave of her hand.

Harry stood there for a few minutes thinking about what happened. He didn't believe for one second that she just came by to offer to run errands for him. She hadn't even asked him about it again, even though he didn't say whether or not he needed anything. No, that was just an excuse to be in his office. He looked around warily, wondering what in the world she had done.

He smiled in spite of himself. This is what made pranking fun -- the payback, even when it was directed at you. The anticipation of what might happen was part of the rush.

Going over her visit again in his mind, he went to his broom, which she had been holding when he walked in. He picked it up and inspected it. Doubting that Hermione would do anything to his broom that would hurt him, he put it back in his locker and turned around, when his gaze locked on his refrigerator. He went to it and opened it, finding it as he left it the day before: stocked with sports drinks, water and sodas. None of them seemed tampered with, but that meant nothing, he mused. Resealing a bottle would be easy for a witch with Hermione's skill.

She suggested caffeine, so I should probably stick with my sports drinks.

Maybe she means for me to skip the caffeine and drink the sports drink.

Right then, water it is.

Maybe that's what she wants.

He eyed his open refrigerator warily.

He closed the refrigerator and laughed out loud. She may not have done anything at all -- his unfounded fears being the perfect revenge.. He shook his head, thinking that a mind game is exactly the type of prank Hermione would pull. He walked over to his locker and started to dress in his referee robes.

Why would she pull a prank and not be here to see it?

Confident that the mind game was the prank, but just to be sure, Harry picked up a reserve broom, grabbed his whistle from his desk and walked out the door to the Ravenclaw locker room to nick an untainted pre-game drink.

It was a cool, clear late November day, a perfect day for a Quidditch match. The air was just brisk enough to require the heavier Quidditch robes, but patches of sun peeked through the fluffy clouds to take the edge of cold off of the spectators in the stands, who were snuggled under woolen blankets.

The two teams met at the center of the pitch and shook hands. Harry released the balls and blew his whistle, signaling the start of the match. Fifteen people soared into the air and the match began.

Harry was amazed at how much he enjoyed refereeing the matches. Watching the teams and the mistakes they made gave him numerous ideas on how to adjust their training to improve their skill. He was especially keen to watch this match, seeing as they were the two worst teams. He worked with them for weeks and finally saw some improvements. This game would be a good test for them, matching up against an equal team to determine how far they had come.

Harry blew the whistle loudly. The Ravenclaw beater had just hit the Hufflepuff seeker with his bat. It was obviously unintentional and the beater was checking to make sure the seeker wasn't hurt, but it was a foul nonetheless. A Hufflepuff chaser took the penalty shot and scored. Harry blew the whistle again and regular play resumed.

Harry was flying around completely focused, watching the two teams. After a moment he heard increased noise from the crowd and wondered what they were excited about. Nothing had happened. He looked around for the seekers, thinking they were chasing the snitch, but saw them high above the game, pointing at him and laughing. The Captain of the Ravenclaw team flew over to Harry with a suppressed grin on his face.

"Um, sir..., Professor Potter? Where are your clothes?"

"What?" Harry said looking down. He gasped as he saw that he appeared to be wearing nothing but his boxers, shin guards, socks and shoes. He could still feel the clothes on his body, which explained why he wasn't cold. But there appeared to be nothing there at all. He looked up and realized that the increase in crowd noise was due to the spectators laughing at his appearance; they weren't even paying attention to the game. He quickly blew the whistle for a time out and flew down to the ground. He landed and noticed that his clothes were visible again.

Completely confused, he shouted, "Game on," and blew his whistle once again. Two more quaffles through the hoops and his clothes vanished again. Then reappeared when he called another time out. He walked off the pitch to his office to gales of laughter. As he was about to change, McGonagall knocked on the door and came in to find out what was going on.

"I don't know professor. I reckon my clothes have been enchanted with a timed invisibility spell. I'm going to change them."

"I don't think so, Harry. The time isn't consistent," she said thoughtfully. "More than likely, whomever," she looked up at Harry here with a knowing look, "did this enchanted all of your clothes, so changing them will not help."

As if on cue, Snape waltzed into the office, an unfamiliar look of happiness on his face. "So it seems that someone has finally gotten the best of Mr. Potter, hmm?"

Harry laughed. "So it seems. Pretty funny, don't you think?" he said good-naturedly.

Snape's grin froze. "What's wrong, Severus? Afraid I would go crying from embarrassment into the locker room? That is the difference between you and me. I can laugh at myself; you can't."

Snape just stood there, his grin melting from his face.

"What's wrong, Severus? Your prank worked beautifully! Hundreds of people just saw me flying around starkers. And they had a right good time of it. You got me so good! I have to hand it to you. It was much more imaginative that I gave you credit for."

Professor McGonagall looked at Snape, her eyebrows raised, a look of impressed disbelief etched on her face.

"I did not prank Potter, Minerva," he said.

"It's okay, Professor McGonagall. I'm not mad. I'm impressed with Snape's creativity. Personally, I thought he would just hex me if we were ever alone." He leaned toward Minerva and whispered loudly, "I've been avoiding the staff room."

Minerva struggled to suppress a grin and cleared her throat. "Well, I trust that this will be the end of your pranks on each other?" Minerva looked questioningly at Harry, who nodded his head, then at Snape, who had a calculating look on his face. He looked at Minerva, gave a slight bow in assent and turned to leave.

Once they were alone, Minerva turned to Harry with a skeptical look on her face. "You don't really think Snape did this, do you?"

Harry scoffed. "Hell, no. Snape's not that imaginative. But if he thinks I believe it he is released from the pressure of having to come up with a harmless prank. Honestly, I reckon it would make him physically ill to have any fun. I'm worried for his health."

"You are concerned for Severus's health?"

"Well, not really. I just don't want to have to teach his classes if he does fall ill."

McGonagall leveled her infamous stern look at Harry. "I meant it when I said that this will be the end of pranks between you two."

"And I meant it when I agreed. Technically, I didn't prank Snape in the first place, but that's not important. What is important is figuring out why my clothes are disappearing. Any ideas?"

McGonagall stared at Harry's robes and equipment. "I think it is the whistle. You blow the whistle, the clothes disappear. Try it."

Harry blew the whistle and nothing happened. McGonagall motioned with her hand for him to blow it again. Nothing. The third time his clothes vanished, leaving him standing in front of McGonagall almost naked.

She turned her head, stifling a laugh. "Every third whistle the spell is activated." Under her breath Harry could have sworn he heard her say, "Brilliant."

He blew the whistle once and his clothes reappeared.

As she turned to walk out the door she said, "I would suggest using a spare uniform from another team. And Harry," she said, pausing at the open door, "I expect this to be the end of your pranks with Ms. Grangers, as well. We can't have teachers out-pranking the students and giving them ideas, now, can we?"

As the door closed behind her, Harry heard the faint sound of unsuppressed laughter.

The sun was beginning to set behind the castle as Hermione trudged up the steps, laden with her purchases from her London expedition. The Head Girl, Charlotte Teire, a Gryffindor, saw her struggling and hurried over to help.

"I can't believe you weren't here! You aren't going to believe what happened, Professor!"

"Is everything okay? No one got hurt did they?" Hermione asked with concern.

"No, nothing like that. Blimey, I can't believe you missed it! Professor Potter's clothes disappeared in the middle of the match!" she exclaimed.

"What?"

"Disappeared, vanished. One minute he was flying on his broom, the next minute he was almost starkers. It was the best Quidditch match I've ever seen," she said with a dreamy look in her eyes.

Hermione suppressed a smile and said as sternly as possible, "That is just horrible! I can't believe a student would prank a teacher like that. I hope the headmistress finds out who did it and punishes them severely."

"Oh, it wasn't a student, Professor."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked with a touch of concern in her voice.

"I overheard some teachers talking about it at dinner. I wasn't eavesdropping, mind you," she hurriedly added. "They said that the magic for that type of spell is too advanced, even for most 7^th year students. They seem to think it was another teacher."

Silently, Hermione chided herself for being too clever for her own good.

"Did they say which teacher?" she asked casually.

"No, but my guess is Professor Snape. Everyone knows that he thinks Har...I mean Professor Potter is the person that slipped him the 'Hi-Pitch.'"

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Hmm," she said noncommittally. "Did Professor Potter seem upset with the prank?"

"No, he thought it was quite funny, I'm told." She sighed and got a dreamy, far-away look in her eyes again. A moment later, she turned serious. "I don't know how funny he will find the pictures, though."

Hermione's head whipped around to Charlotte, "Pictures? What pictures?"

"A second year brought her camera to take pictures of Harry, I mean Professor Potter, for the fan club. She got the whole thing on film. I've been confiscating pictures for hours. Apparently, she had made quite a lot of gold selling them."

"Oh my," Hermione said softly.

That is an unexpected development.

The remainder of the walk consisted of Charlotte rambling on and on about Harry and how it was just amazing that he didn't get upset at all and she guessed that Harry would be getting Snape back soon enough and some Ravenclaw boys were taking bets on what it would be and she just thought that betting was wrong but she still put a galleon on a duel over breakfast one morning.

Hermione's head was spinning, trying to keep up with Charlotte's never-ending sentence. Even though Hermione knew what a brilliant student Charlotte was, she couldn't help but wonder how in the world such a flake became Head Girl.

Just as they arrived at Hermione's room, the door flew open revealing Harry standing there, his arms open wide and an enormous grin on his face.

"Sweetheart! You're home!" He pulled Hermione into his arms and gave her a dramatic kiss. Hermione, completely caught off guard, was still staring wide-eyed when Harry released her. He turned to Charlotte, who was staring at the two of them, mouth gaping open in astonishment.

"Here, let me take those from you, Charlotte," Harry said solicitously.

Hermione watched as he gave Charlotte his most charming smile, grabbed the bags and retreated into her room. She stood there, staring after Harry in stunned silence when she heard Charlotte start to walk away.

"Wait!" she said quickly.

Charlotte turned around, with a smile on her face that could only mean she was dying to return to the common room with the juiciest gossip of the year.

"Charlotte, this is not what you think. You see, Harry and I aren't..." Hermione stopped when she realized that to explain what just happened would mean revealing herself as the person that pranked Harry earlier today.

Bloody hell! He got me again!

"Is she trying to tell you we aren't a couple, Charlotte?" Harry interrupted, returning and putting his arm around Hermione's shoulder. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and shrugged his arm off, stepping away from him. "Oh, come on sweetheart! Charlotte is Head Girl. Our secret is safe with her! You won't tell anyone, will you?" he whispered looking furtively up and down the hall. "We want to keep our love to ourselves for just a little while longer."

"Harry!"

"Well, it's true, love," he said, kissing her temple with a loud smack. "I don't want to share you with anyone, not just yet." He winked conspiratorially at Charlotte.

Charlotte, who looked as if Christmas had come early, said quickly, "Don't worry about a thing, Professors. Your secret is safe with me." She hastily turned around and walked away as fast as she could without actually running.

Hermione rounded on Harry and shoved him back into her room. "What the bloody hell was that?"

Grinning from ear to ear, Harry said, "You know very well what that was. It is called payback, love."

"That isn't payback! That is humiliation. The entire school is going to think that we are a couple."

"How is everyone thinking that we are a couple more humiliating than flying around in front of hundreds of people in my underwear?"

That is a good point.

"That was obviously a joke. Everyone will think that us being a couple is fact."

"Everyone already thinks that!"

"They do not!" Hermione whispered dramatically.

"Um, yes, I think they do," Harry said, sarcastically. "Have you forgotten the little snippet about us in the Daily Prophet after our friendly dart game? The mere possibility that Rita Skeeter was right about us in our fourth year has reenergized her career." Harry walked closer to her, grinning mischievously. "Besides, what would be so bad about everyone thinking we are a couple anyway? Let's give them something to talk about," he said suggestively as he started to put his arms around her waist. Hermione put her hand out on his chest to stop him.

"I don't think so."

"Why not? Face it Hermione, it is inevitable."

"That makes it sound much more appealing."

"Written in the stars?"

"Too much like Trelawney."

"As a matter of fact, during my seventh year she predicted we would become a couple."

"Then I would say it is likely not to happen based on that fact alone."

"You should be thanking me. No one will ever guess that you are the one that charmed - or is it hexed? - my clothes today. After all, you wouldn't want your 'boyfriend' exposed for the whole school to see, now would you?" he said, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Hermione, who had been fighting the urge to gloat, finally gave in. "I got you soooooo good!" She smiled broadly, reveling in her triumph.

Harry bowed his head in defeat. "Yes you did. People will be talking about it for weeks. Fred and George are going to be so proud of you."

Hermione was doing a victory shadowboxing celebration, punching the air in quick succession saying "Yes! Yes!"

"Easy there, tiger."

Finished with her celebration, she sat down in a chair by her fireplace and kicked off her shoes. "So, did you think I spiked your drinks or tampered with your broom?"

Harry paused and sat down on the edge of her bed facing her. "Both. And neither. I almost convinced myself that you were playing a mind game on me as the prank. But to be safe I used a different broom and got a drink from Ravenclaw."

Hermione couldn't keep from smiling. Her plan had worked to perfection. She was gratified it had gone so well seeing as this was her first big prank.

"I wouldn't get too full of yourself, Miss Granger," Harry warned. "Payback is hell, remember?"

"Oh, no you don't! You just paid me back with that little performance for Charlotte. We are square, or at the very least, I owe you a prank."

"McGonagall told me in no uncertain terms that this is the end of our pranking careers at Hogwarts. And that wasn't a performance; we are a couple. You just aren't ready to move on to the fun part that makes us 'officially' a couple." Harry bounced up and down on the bed, as if testing it out. "We could move on right now if you want. I've got some free time."

Hermione laughed at his insinuation. "Harry, you are incorrigible."

"Encourageable?"

"That is not a word."

"Too bad. It gave me hope."

Hermione rolled her eyes and got up. "You need to go. I don't want to give the gossips any more to talk about than necessary." Harry got up from the bed and followed her to the door.

"Oh, one more thing," Harry said, dropping down to one knee. "Will you be my date to the Yule Ball?" he asked in mock sincerity.

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. "Harry, you are ridiculous."

"What? I'm asking you early because I don't want you to think I'm asking you as a last resort. You are the first person I've asked. Well, Professor Sprout doesn't count. She would go with me, you see, but apparently she has bad knees and wants me to be able to dance. Bless her."

"We are chaperones, Harry. We don't need dates. We will both be there anyway."

"Is that a no?" Harry said, standing up. "If I find out you are going with Snape I will slip him a lethal dose of Hi-Pitch, I swear."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "So it was you that did it!"

"No, it was Neville. I was simply the diversion."

"You're joking!"

"Nope. But it was my idea."

"That doesn't surprise me one bit," Hermione said, opening the door.

Harry leaned against the doorjamb. "So, care to give your boyfriend a goodnight kiss?"

"You are not my boyfriend."

"Whatever. I'll still take the kiss."

"No."

"Why not? It will give you a chance to redeem yourself for that kiss earlier. I hate to say it, but it wasn't very good."

"I was caught off guard! I'd hardly say that was my best effort!"

"So now you'll be ready. It should be much more satisfying," he said teasingly, moving closer to her.

"For something that wasn't very satisfying you are awfully eager to do it again."

Harry slid his arm around her waist, pulling her body close to his. "The anticipation is killing me," he said softly, all traces of humor gone from his voice and expression.

Hermione felt a burning sensation in her stomach and felt every inch of Harry's body that was touching hers. Her eyes ran over his face, stopping on his lips.

It would be so easy to kiss him right now.

But she knew that she wouldn't. Besides the fact that they were standing almost in the middle of the hall, Hermione needed to tell Harry about Ron before she would let anything else happen between them. Now was not the time or place for that conversation. Instead, her eyes met his eyes again and she whispered, "Trust me, Harry, when we kiss for the first time, it will be well worth the wait."

He stared at her for a moment and a smile broke across his face. "You said 'when we kiss.' See, it is inevitable. You just admitted it."

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle shove out the door. "Go take a cold shower, Harry."

As she closed the door, she heard him repeat, "You said 'when!' I heard you! Good night, sweetheart!"

She shook her head and smiled, walking into the bathroom to take a cold shower.