Simply Beautiful

***

"I hate Snape, I hate Snape, I hate him, hate him, hate him," Harry grumbled, flipping angrily through a Potions textbook. He found the desired page, and (still steaming with rage) he began to research the information he would need to do his assignment.

Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, in his infamous way had doubled the Gryffindors' load of homework, knowing full well that, as 5th years, they had their O.W.L's to study for on top of all their regular homework. But the Potions Master held no sympathy for them, and it took Harry a lot of self-control not to cram his cauldron down Snape's throat.

Which was why Harry found himself in the library one bright and sunny Saturday afternoon, hiding behind a tower of thick textbooks, hoping to find anything that would help him with his ridiculous assignment. And as soon as he found something helpful, he settled himself down to begin writing, when a voice abruptly interrupted his thoughts of potions and how much he hated his professor.

"There you are, Harry. I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Harry looked up to see Lavender Brown leaning over his shoulder, sneaking a peek at his homework, but she didn't seem the least bit interested in what he was writing. There was a peculiar glint of triumph in her eye, and Harry mentally groaned. He did not want to deal with the biggest gossip queen at Hogwarts right now.

"You found me," Harry told her in a flat tone, keeping his quill poised to write.

Lavender took this as an invitation as she pulled up a chair to sit next to him.

"I heard some interesting news," she said breathlessly. She reminded Harry strongly of a vulture. Or worse; Rita Skeeter. He shuddered, thinking of the reporter who had displayed his whole life for everyone in the wizarding world to see.

"Did you now," Harry replied, not at all interested to hear what Lavender had to say. He normally didn't harbor any ill feelings toward his fellow Gryffindor. In fact, over time he had grown to enjoy her company. But at times like these, when she started buzzing around like a hornet, gathering spicy rumors here, tossing false information there, Harry would rather pretend she didn't exist. And now she was buzzing around him, and it was all he could do to keep from swatting her away. Literally.

"So is it true?" Lavender asked, not at all affected by Harry's cool attitude towards her.

"I'm kind of busy, Lavender," Harry said, trying to sound as polite as possible under the circumstances.

"I won't take up much of your time. I promise," she told him, flashing him a smile that had brought down stronger guys than Harry.

Harry dropped his quill onto the table with a quick snap, and he shot her a fierce look.

"Jeez, you're awfully touchy today," Lavender remarked.

Harry gave her a weak smile. "What can I say, Lavender? You bring out the best in me," he replied sarcastically.

Lavender went on, undaunted. "I heard about you and Cho," she said with an air of someone who was revealing a gigantic secret.

"I'm not surprised," Harry replied, staring at his textbook, wishing and hoping that Lavender would perform a vanishing act. But the gossip queen would not relent until she got what she wanted.

"So is it true?" she asked again.

Harry shrugged. "Sure."

Lavender's eager expression molded into one of impatience. "Harry, I'm only asking because I need to know the truth, to set everyone straight. Do you have any idea what kind of ridiculous rumors are flying around the Castle?" she asked him.

"All of which you started, no doubt," Harry quipped.

Lavender sighed. She seemed to be battling an inner struggle within herself. Her patience was wearing thin, but she wanted to hear the truth from the number one source, Harry Potter himself.

"If you tell me the truth, I'll go," she promised.

Harry took a deep breath, letting it out slowly while counting backwards from 10 to 1. One way or another, Lavender was going to find out the truth. At least if he told her, she'd go away.

"Yes, it's true. Cho and I broke up yesterday. OK? Does that satisfy you? Will you leave me be now?" he pleaded.

"Well... wait a minute!" Lavender exclaimed. "Who broke up with who?"

"Lavender!"

"OK, OK...I suppose that's a little unfair. I guess we'll just have to make up our own versions of what happened."

"You already have," Harry reminded her, having heard Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas earlier that morning, talking in their dormitory. They had assumed that Harry was sleeping, and he had been, until he woke up to their voices. He wasn't aware that guys gossiped. In one way, it was kind of funny, really. Of course, they had been talking about him, so the humor in the situation suddenly seemed to be lacking.

Harry stared at Lavender, raising his brows and giving her a pointed look.

"Oh, right," Lavender said, catching the look he was giving her. "Actually, that wasn't why I came to look for you. Hermione needs you," she said, grinning.

Not understanding the grin, Harry said, "why?"

"She just needs your opinion on something," Lavender replied, giving him a mysterious look.

"Why can't she just ask you?" Harry asked her.

Lavender gave Harry a sour look. "Well, I gave her my opinion, but apparently my expertise counts for nothing around here," she told him bitterly.

"Gee, imagine that," Harry muttered, pretending to sound sympathetic.

Lavender stood up suddenly, a genuine hurt look gracing her features. "I don't know what your problem is, Harry. But it sounds to me like you either need to get another girl friend, or you simply need a serious attitude adjustment."

As she turned to walk out of the library, Harry caught her arm, spinning her back to look at him.

"Lavender, I'm sorry," Harry apologized immediately, realising how much of a prat he really sounded like. "I'm just under a lot of stress, with school, and the O.W.L's coming up...I didn't mean any of it...just...could you put up with me for the next little while?"

Lavender considered him a moment, then smiled a genuine smile. "OK. And I'm sorry, too. I guess I really had no right prying into your life. Are you OK?" she asked, her whole aspect changing. She was back to the girl that Harry enjoyed being around.

Harry nodded, smiling. "I'm fine. Now... where's Hermione?"

*
The common room was utterly empty, save for a couple of second years playing a game of Wizards Chess in the corner. Harry made his way slowly up the stairs, leading to the Prefects dormitories. What could Hermione possibly want with him?

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, he knocked. Not getting an answer, his first impulse was to turn and head straight back to the library. But then he heard a noise coming from inside Hermione's room, a sort of thumping noise, and the sound of a door being shut.

Harry very cautiously turned the doorknob, edged the door open, and stuck his head in only a fraction.

"Hermione?" Harry said, seeing nothing but an empty dorm room.

Another loud thump came from somewhere to his right. Hermione could be heard through a closed door, moaning in what sounded like pain.

"Hermione?"

"I'm in here, Harry. Just...hold on..." Hermione called through the closed door.

"What's going on?" Harry asked her, still standing by the doorway, too nervous to step inside.

There was some shuffling, some water pouring, the taps being shut off, and still, Harry had no clue what was going on.

"Harry?" Hermione called, after what seemed like a very long time to Harry.

"I'm still here," Harry told her.

"I'm coming out. But you have to promise me that you won't laugh," came Hermione's response.

Harry rolled his eyes in mild agitation. "Hermione? Why would I ever laugh at you? Just come out," he pleaded with her.

"I am going to come out, but you have to promise me first," she insisted. And Harry just knew that if he didn't humor her, he'd land up standing there forever.

"All right, all right. I promise."

There was another pause, and then the door to the half bathroom opened just a crack, and from where Harry was standing, he could see a pair of cinnamon eyes searching the entire room, until they finally landing on Harry.

"What are you doing over there?" she asked, seeing Harry standing by the main door.

"Er...this is a girl's room..." he said nervously.

Hermione giggled, finding Harry's embarrassment quite adorable.

"This is also a Prefect's room. And you're a Prefect. You're allowed to come in," she insisted, still standing behind the door.

"This may be a Prefect's room, but it's a female's room, first and foremost," Harry said stubbornly.

"Harry, just get inside, would you? I'm not going to argue with you halfway across the room," Hermione snapped. The tone in her voice, one of amusement, reassured Harry that she wasn't actually angry.

"Listen, Harry," Hermione said, trying a new tack. "We're both Prefect's. And we're best friends. So it's all right if we stand in the same bedroom together, OK?"

And so reluctantly, very reluctantly, Harry took a few more steps into the room, until he reached the bed, standing just a few feet from where Hermione was behind the door.

"Good boy," Hermione encouraged sarcastically.

"Are you coming out now?" Harry asked her.

In answer, the door opened, and Hermione stepped out. Only, it wasn't the Hermione that Harry was used to. He remembered clearly how pretty she looked at the Yule Ball the previous year, but pretty just didn't cut it this time.

She was wearing (as Harry's eyes widened with surprise) a knee length black skirt, and strappy black heels which only accentuated her slender legs, making them look longer, and Hermione taller. Her shirt was probably the most revealing thing he had ever seen on her, a light blue T-shirt with the sleeves cut off just after the shoulders, with a deep v-neck. The shirt in itself was snug; making Harry slightly more embarrassed than he was before. But as he looked upwards, to her face and hair, he instantly knew what his favorite part of the whole look was.

She had to have used some Charm to tame her hair. It was straight, brushed down and parted down the middle. As Harry observed her from head to toe, Hermione nervously tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, and Harry caught the glint of an earring dangling from her earlobe. A simple chain hung around her neck, and there was a matching bracelet on her right wrist. The only make-up he could see on her was a faint lip-gloss, and a light hint of eye shadow to match her shirt.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, now biting her bottom lip anxiously.

Harry hadn't even noticed that he was staring straight into her eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. But once he realised it, he snapped himself back to reality, stepping away from her ever so slightly.

"It's nothing...uh...so why am I here?" he asked, his voice coming out slightly higher than usual. He cleared his throat.

"For this," Hermione said, spreading out her arms and twirling around gracefully, her skirt and hair flowing with her every movement. "I want Ron's birthday to go perfectly. We're going to Hogsmeade today for dinner."

"Oh, right," Harry said, suddenly remembering the dinner that they had been planning for weeks.

"I just want to make sure that I look perfect for him, you know? I wanted a guy's perspective on this, and you were the only guy I could think of who would be perfectly honest with me."

Harry, not sure what to do or say, dug his hands into his pockets, feeling more awkward than he had ever felt before. He felt suddenly relieved that he didn't have to lie. But to tell her how she really looked...A new fear suddenly gripped him. What if he got carried away? What if, even worse, he started to stutter and blush while telling her that she looked fine?

She looks more than fine, you mindless git.

"So...what do you think?" she asked, bringing him from his own thoughts.

"Er...You look fine," he mumbled, staring at the floor.

Hermione frowned. She was hoping that she'd get a better reaction. She wanted to look stunning, or beautiful. She had worked so hard at her hair, and he hadn't even commented on it!

But then she reminded herself that the only opinion that truly mattered to her was Ron's. After all, she was doing this for him...wasn't she?

"Why are you staring at my feet? Is it the heels? Do they make me look too tall, too lanky? Too cheap?" she asked Harry, and as she said those words his eyes wandered back to her face.

"No..." he said, and he swallowed. "No, the heels are fine," he said, trying to keep it simple.

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, fighting for patience.

"What about the outfit? Is this too much, too little?" she wondered.

"No, the outfit's fine," he said, glancing at the clock on her nightstand.

"And my hair?"

"Fine."

"What about the jewelry?" said Hermione.

"Fine"

"And what about my bra? Is it too lacy, or just too plain?"

Harry's wide eyes met Hermione's in an instant. It was clear, as he choked and spluttered; that he was most definitely embarrassed by the question.

Hermione gave him a sweet and innocent smile.

"Hermione!" Harry gasped, unaware that he was gawking at her.

"Just making sure that you were listening, Harry Potter! So that's all you have to say; is that I look fine? You have no encouraging words for your best friend, is that it?"

"That's not it," Harry insisted, feeling anxious.

"Then what is it, Harry?"

Harry stared at her, feeling completely helpless. Telling her how he felt was simply not an option. There was only one thing he could do, and he wasn't sure he was prepared to go for it.

"You look more than fine," Harry finally said, feeling utterly defeated. "Your legs...look slender, not too tall, not too short, but really...they are every guy's fantasy."

Hermione gave him a satisfied look, folding her arms across her chest. "Every guy's fantasy, Harry?"

"You heard right," he said. "Now, as for your outfit? For the occasion, I think it's perfect. It's not too revealing and not too "grandma-ish". As far as you're concerned, it looks absolutely stunning on you."

A smile slowly crept along Hermione's lips.

"As for the jewelry, you did the right thing not putting too much on. It's just the right amount, and it's not too glittery, so... it doesn't take from your natural beauty."

Hermione opened her mouth in awe. This couldn't be Harry Potter talking. It simply couldn't be!

"And as for your hair..." Harry continued, looking at her with an unrealised desire, "when you walked out of that bathroom, I thought I was staring at a real life angel. Don't get me wrong, I love your bushy, curly hair. But the straight hair really, truly brings out your face more. The bushy hair somehow hid that part of you, but with the straight hair, it's almost as if you're saying that you're ready to let other people see the true beauty that's in you. That I've always known is there...that Ron has known is there..."

He had said the magic word. Ron. For an instant, Hermione had completely forgotten about him. She felt simply lost in Harry's sentimental words. Even Ron, in all their time being together, had never made her feel so beautiful, so loved, and so wanted.

But she was being silly. Harry Potter did not want her. He was simply telling her what she longed to hear, and as her best friend, and best friend only, he felt obligated to say those things to her, to make her feel special and needed.

And it worked like a charm, she thought, somewhat bitterly.

"Now, as for the bra..." Harry said, grinning. Hermione blushed instantly.

"I was just trying to get your attention," she said, and he laughed, feeling an immense weight lift from him.

A strange silence fell between the two. It wasn't uncomfortable, as Harry always expected it to be, but rather...it was peaceful.

Hermione looked at him, tears glossing her eyes as the words Harry had spoke to her replayed in her mind.

"Thank you...Harry," she said softly.

Harry smiled. "What are friends for?"

He looked away, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. That's all they were. Friends. That's all they would always be, and it hurt so much, that Harry was tempted to learn how to brew a potion specified to get rid of heartache. He knew it existed. He had seen it in a book once. He shook his head. He was really starting to sound like Hermione.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked him, concerned.

Harry snapped himself out of his thoughts. "Oh, it's nothing," he told her, but Hermione didn't look convinced.

"I heard about Cho," Hermione told him, peering up at him with her pretty eyes.

Harry didn't say anything, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes, or the curiosity, or worse, the disappointment. There were emotions and feelings that he was experiencing at the moment, and he couldn't begin to fathom how or why he was having these thoughts about her.

"Harry, look at me," she pleaded, touching his arm. This simple touch made Harry jump back with a jolt, wondering if it was static electricity that had made him jump back like that, while knowing that it was something else entirely.

"It's Ok, Hermione. Don't worry yourself over nothing," he insisted, chancing a look at her.

"Worry myself!" Hermione scoffed. "Harry, it's what I do best. Come on," Hermione said, sitting down at the foot of the bed, tugging Harry down to sit next to her.

"It's nothing," Harry repeated, suddenly very desperate to get out of the room.

"Harry!" Hermione was giving him her best Professor McGonagall face.

Harry scratched his head. He hadn't had the chance to talk to anyone about his problems. Hermione and Ron had been so wrapped up in their relationship that Harry had just learned to deal with his own feelings on his own.

Of course, this wasn't the most normal of situations. It wasn't like Harry could go to Hermione or Ron and tell them what he was going through, what he was feeling, and why he had to break up with Cho. It wasn't like they could have solved his problem.

But here was Hermione, looking more beautiful by the day, and this was the first time they had been alone in months. He so desperately wanted a friend right now, even if it was one he was steadily falling for.

"You heard about how Cho and I broke up yesterday?" he said, knowing the answer.

Hermione gave him a wry smile, reaching out and taking his hand into hers. "I sort of heard what happened already, something about Cho catching you with some...distasteful material...?"

Harry looked at her, puzzled. "Like what?" he asked, looking so innocent it made Hermione blush even more at the idea of the actual rumor.

"Well...you know..." Hermione said, giving Harry a very pointed look. Jeez, he can't be that daft, she thought with some humor.

Then Harry's whole expression changed, molding from innocent inquiry, to full-blown horror.

"You're kidding!" he blurted, now very red in the face as Hermione nodded. "How in the world would I get that kind of stuff?" he exclaimed incredulously.

Hermione shrugged, not really having an answer for him. "Maybe you got a subscription?" she suggested calmly.

Harry felt his jaw drop. "Even if that were the case, which it's not, I'm not nearly old enough to even get that kind of...Ugh! Who comes up with these ideas? If it was Lavender-"

Harry stopped in mid-sentence, watching as Hermione burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. She brought a hand up to her mouth to stifle the laughter, to no avail.

Hearing only the sweet music of her laughter, Harry felt slightly dazed. It took all his energy to simply ask, "what are you laughing at?"

Harry's question was answered by more laughter, tears were streaming down Hermione's face, and she wiped them away hastily, still giggling.

"This is the silliest conversation..." she breathed, trying to gain control of her laughter.

Harry couldn't help it; he started to laugh, too. It took some time before either of them calmed down enough to go back to the conversation.

"So will you tell me what really happened between you two?" she asked him, looking trusting and sincere and everything that Harry needed at the moment.

The only problem was, she was the reason they had broken up. Or at least, it was his feelings for her. But he couldn't tell her that. Hermione was with Ron, and they had been together for nearly 6 months.

Would I tell her even if that weren't the case, Harry suddenly wondered, knowing full well that whatever the circumstance, he would never reveal his deep feelings for her. Ever.

"It just...ended... I'd like to say that it was mutual, but..."

"So she broke up with you?" Hermione asked him tentatively.

Harry shook his head. "I broke up with her, believe it or not," he said, still surprised that he actually had broken up with the pretty Ravenclaw.

He had wanted to do it for weeks, and he had finally gotten the courage just the day before. He was relieved that it had been an easy break-up. Cho Chang seemed to expect it, and seemed only too relieved that he had been the one to instigate the break-up.

"Why?" Hermione asked softly.

"Because..." Harry sighed. "Because I don't have feelings for her...I guess they faded. I like her as a friend, of course," he added. "But nothing more, and it's been that way for a while now."

Hermione's hand squeezed his own. "I'm really sorry, Harry. Are you OK?" she asked him.

"Yeah," Harry said, lifting his face so his eyes could meet hers. It was an odd feeling of completion when he looked at her. That was how this had all started, when he had started to date Cho. Everything had been so perfect with them. Harry remembered feeling truly happy.

But then he found himself comparing Cho to Hermione. He hadn't been doing it on purpose, it just came naturally. He realised how comfortable he felt with Cho, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he was with Hermione.

As he sat there, aware that Hermione was hanging on his every word, he wondered when he had realised that he had feelings for her. He supposed it had started with the dreams. Oh...the dreams! They had started innocently enough, but then he started waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, breathing heavy, and shaking all over. But it wasn't a disturbing or scary feeling. It was all pleasure, and that was the scary and disturbing part of it all.

This was because Hermione wasn't a single girl. She had a boyfriend, Ron Weasley, Harry's own best friend! Even if she was single, the fact that he was having those kinds of dreams about her was wrong all on its own.

As though that wasn't bad enough, Harry had had a girl friend, too! And that was what brought about the shame, the disappointment and the anger in him. He should have been a better boyfriend to Cho. She certainly deserved better.

Harry stood up, suddenly very eager to get out of the room, and Hermione stood with him.

Hermione's cinnamon eyes met his own emerald ones, and without speaking, she went into his arms, their embrace gentle and warm. Harry held her closely, enjoying the citrus scent of her hair, and the faint scent of vanilla that lingered on her lips. He did not feel the guilt that came from holding his best friend's girl friend. He didn't feel the shame at admitting his feelings for her to himself. This was his own little secret, one that would never be set free. And he knew that he could live with that. After all, he was the master of his own feelings.

"I had better get back to the library," he told her, not wanting to step away from her warmth and the comfort of her arms. She looked up at him, not letting go and not stepping away.

"You'd rather study then spend your time with me?" she said, smiling up at him innocently.

"It's not a matter of preference," Harry said, the words coming out too quickly for him to stop them.

Hermione frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry clamped firmly on his tongue, not wanting to say something that he knew he'd regret. "I just mean...that I have school and stuff...it really can't wait," he told her, stepping away from her and heading back to the door.

"Harry!" Hermione snapped, and Harry turned to find that she was glaring at him.

"I'm sorry. I really hope you have a good time with Ron," he said, opening the door.

"Harry!"

Harry turned again, this time Hermione's hands were on her hips, but her expression was soft.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Hermione looked at him, and she suddenly looked very embarrassed.

"So...on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the highest, and 1 being the lowest, how would you rate me?"

They stood there, staring at each other, frozen in time. Harry could still feel her arms around him, he could still smell her citrus hair, and he wanted so badly to be back there, in her arms. As he stared at her, into her very soul, he knew that there was nothing easy about his feelings for her.

"You're off the charts, Hermione," he said, his heart hammering against his chest. He swallowed thickly, wanting to say so much more, but the words were suddenly lost to him.

"You're simply beautiful."

And as Harry closed the door behind him, Hermione stared at the spot where he had stood as he said those three words to her. And she wondered, ever so briefly, what he truly meant by them.

To Be Continued...

***
Review if you feel like it. And thanks to all for taking the time to read this!