Set on Fire

Set on Fire

by: Eowyn, lady of Rohan

Harry Potter stepped into the entrance hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, shaking the snow off his cloak and taking off his scarf and gloves, both striped with Gryffindor colors. Ron Weasley stepped close behind him, also taking off his more tattered scarf and gloves, his and Harry's hair still laden with snowflakes, but not as noticeable on Ron's fiery-red as Harry's jet-black.

"Where's Hermione? Haven't seen much of her today," Ron asked, more to himself than to Harry. The second boy could tell Ron was trying to sound nonchalant, but he could tell Ron was a bit...anxious, if that was the correct term. More worried. Harry shrugged and wiped his glasses with his cloak.

"No idea, probably getting ready for the St. Valentine's Ball. You know it'll take her forever to get ready, just like at the Yule Ball. Of course it is only about forty-five minutes until the ball, so...."

"Why'd they bother to have another stupid dance this year? If they were going to have one, they could've ever since fourth year rather than skipping two more years until they had one." Harry silently laughed to himself. He almost said, What, so you could make up for the time you were a prat when we were fourteen and could dance with her three two more years and have an excuse? But he knew it would embarrass Ron and the redhead would deny it anyway, his flaming ears giving it away, so he didn't bother.

"Got a date tonight?" he asked instead.

"Nah," said Ron, "I...I'm going to ask Hermione to dance, but I don't know if she will. Probably not." Ron shrugged. "I figure what the hell, it's worth a try."

"What's worth a try?" they heard a girl's voice behind them and turned around, turning to face Hermione Granger. Harry had to blink his eyes three times to make sure he was seeing the right person. It wasn't in astonishment that he couldn't recognize her, it was...well, horror. Her hair was piled in huge rollers on her head and one eyelid was covered with iridescent, shimmering white eyeshadow, mascara on that same eye's lashes, the other bare and rose-colored blusher on the apples of her cheeks. She was in only a bathrobe, pulled all the way over her, sash tied tightly, the hem brushing the floor, leopard-print slippers on her feet.

"Er..." Ron said, his eyes narrowed. "What's with the get-up?"

"Oh, I was getting makeup on then going to put on my dress but then wanted to come see you two and see if you were ever going to get ready for the Ball; you've been out in Hogsmeade all day." Yeah, getting something for you, Harry thought and with that thought, his heart plummeted to his chest. He didn't know if he'd have the guts to give it to her after all, but he'd never gotten her something for Valentine's Day, not even a little silly Valentine, and it was their last year...who knew if they'd see each other after this year?

"Harry...?" He looked at her, in her large hazel eyes, and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Ah, sorry, I was thinking about the ball."

"Don't tell me you're nervous," she said. "This can't be worse than fourth year when you had to open the dance...is it?"

"Oh, well, you have a point there." She laughed. "Well come on, you two, time to get ready."

"Yes, mother," Ron muttered and she laughed, turning and heading up the stairs, the faint scent of vanilla lingering behind. Harry looked away, but Ron kept staring after her.

"Well, come on, let's go and take her advice."

"Orders, more like it."

~*~

Harry checked his watch for what must have been the fifteenth time. Seven twenty. The ball had started twenty minutes ago, and Hermione was nowhere to be found. Ron was looking frantically around, like there would be no tomorrow if she didn't appear suddenly.

"There she is," Harry pointed out, nodding toward the door, his own heart giving a little jump. Her hair had been de-frizzed somehow, the long, deep ebony waves cascading down her back about five inches higher than her waist, the sides held back in two diamond clips, five little diamond gems hanging down from her ears. She wore a spaghetti-strapped evening gown, made of red silk and when she stepped, Harry could see red strappy heels on her feet.

Hermione caught sight of Harry and Ron staring at her, smiled, and walked over. She smelled more strongly of vanilla as she approached, her eyes sparkling in the soft light. It was then Harry noticed the smallest details about them--the way she had flecks of moss green around the edges and very tiny ones around the pupil, the rest a milk-chocolate brown. Her skin was a golden-brown in the light and her lips were shiny with lip-gloss, her teeth gleamed as she smiled.

"Well, you two look like you've never seen me in my life," she laughed. "But I guess I do look a little different, with my hair un-frizzed."

"A little? You look a lot different," Ron blurted. Harry rolled his eyes.

"What?" Hermione asked him, smiling.

"He's right, you do look a lot different...you're beautiful, it's true, but I'm used to the other Hermione. Don't get me wrong, I love this look..." she laughed, and he trailed off.

"It's okay, I get what you're saying. This--this feels so unnatural. But Lavender and Parvati convinced me to get my hair this way."

"Well, great for them. Hermione, I wanted to ask you something for a while now...I...w-will you, erm, d-dance with me?" Ron stammered, and Hermione flushed.

"Of course I will." She winked at Harry as Ron led her off. Harry gulped down a half-goblet of punch. He dropped his hand in his dress-robe pocket and fingered the object he'd gotten for Hermione and his eyes snapped to Ron and Hermione, now dancing. Their fingers were laced and her other hand up on the back of his shoulder, his other arm around her waist and they were swaying to the soft music playing. Ron was around 6'4" while Hermione was no more than 5'7", and to Harry, it didn't look quite...maybe he was jealous. But jealous of what? Hermione was just his friend...he felt left out! Yeah, that was it....

"Harry? You feeling okay?" Ginny Weasley appeared at his elbow and he smiled at her, but it was a nervous smile, one that didn't quite fit him.

"I--yeah, I think...only I think I like Hermione." She suddenly started laughing.

"You just realized that?"

"What?"

"Everyone's noticed you've liked her since, oh, about your third year? The Gryffindor boys in your year have been waiting--well, excluding Ron because he's had this childish crush on her forever--for you to realize it...wait until I tell Dean. Well, anyway, don't worry about Ron, it's not real. Not like the love you have for Hermione."

"Love?" Harry's voice was like a seven-year-old's then. "I--it's not love."

"I'm sure. Look, she's coming over, the song's ended. Tell her tonight--trust me." Harry opened his mouth to ask her something, but the familiar scent of vanilla reached him and he turned to face Hermione, who was smiling up at him. Ron was looking a bit relieved, but still kind of a bit sick with worry.

"Hey, Harry, you look like you just saw a ghost...well, that's not that uncommon, but I digress. What's up?" Hermione said, her eyes glittering still. Harry swallowed.

"Can I see you outside?"

"Of course." She frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just need to tell you something."

"Sure. Just let me get a drink of punch." She downed a glass faster than even he'd downed his and smiled.

"Okay. Be back in a second, Ron." Ron nodded, his eyes a bit blank, and she and Harry walked out in the entrance hall.

"Hermione." She froze as she was heading toward the door, turning to Harry, who was by the door.

"I--thought you wanted to go outside. Oh, you meant the hall. Okay. So, what's going on?" He reached in his pocket and pulled out what he'd gotten for her. It was a necklace, a silver locket with an engraving of roses twining around the heart shape of the front, and Hermione in the middle. It hung on a delicate silver chain. Hermione's eyes widened.

"It's--wow, why did you get that? I mean, it's beautiful and I love it, but it must've costed so much, I mean, and it's not--"

"It's for Valentine's Day. And I wanted to." He slipped it around her neck and clasped it, and she fingered it, her eyes even more bright than in the Great Hall.

"Thank you...so much..." she threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him in a fierce hug, and he laughed, sliding his arms around her waist.

"You're more than welcome. You deserve it." His heart was fluttering like crazy against his ribs, his palms were cold but he was sweating beneath his robes--he knew it was wrong to feel this way about his best friend but he did...and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I love you." He said, surprised at the steadiness of his voice. He didn't know how he'd said that instead of the simple "I think I like you" that he'd planned to say...but it just slipped out. And the thing was, it felt so right saying it. It slid right off his tongue. Hermione drew back, but not back so far that his arms weren't encircling her waist--they still were, and her arms were around his neck still--loose, but still around them. Her hands moved to his shoulders and he cupped her left cheek in his right hand.

"Why do you love me?"

"You're my everything. I honestly don't know where I'd be without you. You saved me all these years, Hermione, from giving up too easily, from turning back on you two when things got hard...but you mostly saved me from my fear. Of Voldemort, of his Death Eaters, of facing Sirius's death, of...of loving you." She smiled, tears stinging her eyes. "I wish I could say more than that, but there's so many things I love about you, I couldn't possibly name them all." She nodded, and he leaned in, touching his lips gently to hers, his hand moving to her jaw, his fingers splaying over her cream-colored skin. She responded eagerly, pressing back more than he was, showing him just how much she needed him, and his hand moved into the thick, sleek waves that was her hair, her scent surrounding him, her body pressing into his. All he could think of was her--

"HARRY?! H-Hermione?" Harry opened his eyes, pulling back, and turned around, facing Ron with guilty, large green eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ron, I--"

"Wasn't thinking, were you? I can't believe you'd do this to me, Harry, and you, Hermione...after I danced with you--"

"Stop it!" Hermione yelled. "I'm not the one for you! I'm not the one you want...you're not in love with me."

"Oh, and I suppose Harry is? Of course, Harry gets everything--he got to be the second champion of Hogwarts and he got to be the star Quidditch player, and now he gets the girl. It's just so..."

"I am in love with her." Harry spoke softly, calmly.

"He is, Ron." Ginny said from Ron's shoulder. Ron whirled to face her.

"You too?" he groaned. "I can't believe this. I wish I could forgive you, Harry, I really do. But this time, I just can't." He stormed up the stairs and Hermione hung her head, sighing.

"I shouldn't have told you, Hermione..." Harry said, and felt Ginny's hand on his arm.

"You did the right thing. I'll talk to Ron and you two dance."

"I feel like I should talk to him, but I know he won't listen." Hermione took his hand, entwining her fingers with his.

"You did the best for now. We'll get to him later. For now, it's time to dance."

"Love is friendship set on fire." -Jeremy Taylor

FIN