I Won\'t

A long, uneventful month passed. Dumbledore asked Hermione's parents to stay with the Order at #12 Grimmauld Place, rather than return back to their home, hoping to avoid anymore Death Eater attacks. This had not suited Hermione well, but she took the opportunity to give them as much of a hard time as possible.

Hermione barely spoke two words to her parents in the time that they spent together, which mainly consisted of eating time. Hermione spent her evenings hidden in the bathroom, or the library, if she could manage it. Every night, the scar on her arm became more prominent. The bold, red cut burned each time she wrote, but Hermione didn't care. Hermione ran her finger along the letters, feeling the indentation she had made. She enjoyed the feel of the warm blood running down her arm and the feel of her thin, frail skin ripping apart.

Each morning, it became more and more difficult for Hermione to hide her scarred arm. She often wore a long sleeve shirt or a sweatshirt. None of her friends questioned her, but she was sure they wondered. She was most worried when she spent time with Harry. Harry knew more than the others did. He obviously suspected but, still, never asked.

Hermione wished she hadn't told Harry. Harry often gave her looks of pity without realising it. Hermione didn't want to ask him about it. She didn't want bring it up. She couldn't stand to answer his questions.

The day before they were to leave on the train back to Hogwarts, Mrs. Weasley threw a party for Harry and Hermione, Hogwarts' Head Boy and Girl.

The kitchen was decorated with a wide range of decorations, all of them red and gold and from Fred and George's shop. Each of the gold decorations glittered with the light from the candles in the kitchen.

Everyone from the Order showed up to honour the Gryffindors. Kingsley, although busy with his job at the Ministry, managed to sneak away from his office-life to participate in the celebration. Tonks chatted idly with Lupin, who looked quite pale after the full moon the previous night. Mad-Eye was glaring around at people, seeming to think that Death Eaters would somehow find Headquarters and attack at any given moment. Much to Harry and Ron's displeasure, Snape had shown up. He sat in the corner talking with McGonagall, who seemed very pleased that two Gryffindors were made Head Boy and Girl. And much to Hermione's displeasure, her parents would not leave until tomorrow. They were sitting to the side, whispering to each other, glancing over at Hermione and Harry every so often as if to hope Hermione would leave his side.

Anger swept through Hermione's veins, causing her wrist to burn with pain. She gasped and grasped her wrist.

'Is something wrong?' Harry asked, turning to look at her.

'No,' Hermione lied, rubbing her arm casually. 'I'm fine.'

Harry didn't seem to believe her and gave her a wary look.

'Hem hem,' Lupin said very Umbridge-like, tapping a fork against his glass goblet. The chattering amongst the guests died down. 'I would like to make a toast to Harry and Hermione,' he announced. The guests all turned to face Harry and Hermione, their glasses raised, much like Lupin's. 'Hogwarts' best Head Boy and Head Girl since James and Lily Potter.'

'To Harry and Hermione!' the guests chorused. Hermione looked at her parents. They had done as the rest of the guests, holding up their glasses to them.

Hermione blushed and weakly smiled. She was not used to this much attention, and was not exactly sure if she liked it.

Harry slipped his arm around her waist. Hermione looked at him. He had the same, fake smile pasted on his face.

'You like the attention?' Hermione asked in a hushed voice.

'I suppose it's okay,' Harry chuckled quietly. 'But when will they stop referring to us as "Harry and Hermione"?' Harry managed to keep the same smile on his face as he spoke.

'I suppose a few weeks, depending on how much they talk about us,' Hermione said quietly.

'Well, er,' Harry said awkwardly. 'Would they refer to us as "Harry and Hermione" longer if I asked you out on a date?'

'Well, I suppose they would,' Hermione said dully. That was when I hit her. She had just realised what he had asked. 'Wait, was that an offer?' Hermione pulled away from him to look up at him.

'Er,' Harry said, looking at his feet. 'Well, only if you want to.' Hermione could see a slight pink tint spread across his cheeks.

Hermione smiled. She had only dreamt about this every day since Harry had arrived at her house that summer. 'What would you say if I said yes?' she asked with a grin.

Harry looked up at her, grinning only slightly. 'Was that an answer?' he asked, raising an eyebrow at her curiously.

Hermione didn't answer him. She merely draped her arms over Harry's shoulders, pulling closer to him. Hermione leaned close to his face and whispered, 'Why don't you kiss me and find out?'

Harry looked absolutely shocked that he would even make such an amazing request.

Hermione's heart was racing. Her parents would surely kill her, but for once she had not a care in the world. Hermione ran her fingers through Harry's messy hair and pulled his head down toward hers. Their lips met with an explosion of passion. Harry's hands slid back around her waist. She could feel his hands dangling just above her bottom. Hermione nearly wished that he would touch it. She wanted to get a rise out of her parents.

Hermione slowly pulled away. She looked up at Harry, who was smiling down at her. 'Yes,' she whispered, a smile playing at her lips. 'I would love to go out with you, Harry.'

Harry smiled and kissed her on the forehead. Hermione pulled away from him to look at the crowd around them. She couldn't tell whether Ron or her father was frowning more. And she found that her mother and Mrs. Weasley seemed to be in a match to see who could look more horrified.

Others, like the twins, Tonks, Lupin, and Ginny, were clapping and cheering for the two of them.

Then, there was Snape. He showed no interest in anything that had just happened, including the kiss between Harry and Hermione.

Hermione grinned to herself. She felt better than she ever had. That night was the first time in one month that Hermione didn't think about, let alone use, the quill sitting in the pocket of her robes.