Focus

"You're staring."

Harry's elbow slipped off the table and only his seeker-fast reflexes kept him from hitting his chin on the surface. He scowled at his neighbor, who was giggling at his near-miss with the tabletop. "What?"

Seamus cleared his throat, trying to control himself a little. "You were staring."

"Staring?" Harry asked, bending down to pick up the quill he'd dropped. "I wasn't staring at anyone."

"Yes, you were," Seamus said pointedly. "Right at her, too, mate."

"At who?" Harry looked around the classroom. He certainly didn't remember staring at anyone.

"Hermione," Seamus said with a grin.

"Hermione?" Harry said rather loudly. Several people, including Hermione, looked up at him in surprise. He felt his face heat up and waved away the question that was forming in her eyes. "Never mind," he mouthed and she nodded in response, turning back to Binns, who had continued on with his lecture, oblivious to the slight commotion in the classroom.

"Hermione," Seamus restated, sounding rather smug.

"I was not," Harry instantly protested.

"You were," Seamus said, picking up his quill and making a series of zigzag marks along the margin of his parchment.

"No, I wasn't," Harry huffed, slapping his quill down on his notes in agitation.

Seamus raised an eyebrow. "No need to get so upset, mate. I'm just calling it like I see it. And you were staring at her."

Harry rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat. He looked around the classroom, mind racing. Had he really been staring at her? And if so, who else had seen him? It wasn't as if it were really that odd for him to be looking at her; they were best friends, after all. But then again, he wasn't staring at Ron....

"Harry, don't stare. It's not polite."

Harry jumped in his seat, throwing a rather venomous look at Seamus. "Shut up."

Seamus shrugged. "Listen, mate, I'm no expert on matters of the heart, but I still think you should just tell her that you like her."

Harry sighed, picking up his quill once more. He rolled it thoughtfully between his fingers. He did like her, he knew that much. He'd actually liked her for quite some time and yet he hadn't ever done anything about it. Harry dipped his quill in his ink bottle and tried to turn his attention to the last part of Binns' lecture; the ghost was going on and on about something to do with the War of 1674 or something like that. He glanced over at Seamus' notes, hoping to see what he'd missed, but instead saw a page full of various patterns. He rolled his eyes; it seemed like no one had any interest in History of Magic.

No one, that was, except Hermione.

She was sitting two rows in front of him, between Parvati and Dean. She had her head down and her quill was moving quickly across her parchment, trying to take down everything Binns was saying. Her brown hair was laying across her shoulders, with the front part clipped back in a gold barrette. It was gleaming in the sun shining through the window of the classroom and Harry could see the multiple colors that shimmered through her tresses. It was slightly warm in the room and that was causing a slight flush to appear across her cheekbones. She looked beautiful.

"Just tell her, Harry," Seamus said quietly, looking at him sideways.

"Maybe you're right, Seamus. Maybe you're right," Harry conceded, eyes still trained on Hermione's back.

Seamus clapped him on the shoulder with the same hand that was holding his quill and Harry sighed again, raising a hand to wipe away the ink that had splattered across his cheek.

"Sorry," Seamus said, holding back a laugh. "But yes, I am right. Talk to her. Now. Before I do."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'll talk to her."

"Good," Seamus replied with a nod of his head. "Because I will. Tell her, that is."

"I don't doubt that at all," Harry muttered.

Seamus grinned.

***

Hermione walked into the Great Hall, struggling to get her Arithmancy book into her school bag. Perhaps there was something to Harry's comment about not carrying quite as much stuff around. She huffed in annoyance as the thick red-leather bound book refused to slide into the bag, instead slamming it down on the table, rattling the silverware.

"Hello to you, too," Ginny said with a smile, closing her Divination book and setting it aside. "Having some trouble?"

"My bag is too full," Hermione replied with a shake of her head. "I can't get everything I need to fit."

"You don't really need all that, though, do you?" Ginny asked, reaching across the table to grab the water pitcher and gesturing with her free hand at the blue book currently protruding from the top of her bag. "I mean, you don't even have Magical Artifacts today."

Hermione sighed. "I know, but I like to have it with me just in case I finish something else. I don't like not having something to do."

Ginny rolled her eyes and poured herself a glass of water, then nodded toward Hermione's glass. "Do you want any water?"

"That'd be great, yes. Thank you," Hermione answered, picking up her Arithmancy book once more. She was determined to get it to fit.

"Just shrink it if you want it in there so badly," Ginny pointed out with a grin.

Hermione huffed. Of course. She pulled out her wand and shrank the book, slipping it easily into the front pocket. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."

Ginny shrugged. "You seem to have a lot on your mind. Is something bothering you?"

Hermione glanced down the table before answering, eyes settling on Harry. He was sitting in between Ron and Seamus and was gesturing wildly. He narrowly missed knocking over Parvati's pumpkin juice with his right hand as he turned to listen to Ron; Hermione caught the words "Slytherin" and "Tuesday" and sighed. Harry was talking about Quidditch again.

She turned her attention back to Ginny, who was regarding her with a rather knowing smile on her face. "What?"

"It's Harry, isn't it." It wasn't a question.

"What's Harry?" Hermione looked back down the table at her best friend, who was now waving around his butter knife in a rather alarming fashion.

"The reason you seem... a bit odd. It's Harry, right?" Ginny reached across the table and laid her hand on Hermione's arm. "You can tell me, you know."

Hermione sat down heavily in her seat. "I know I can tell you. I just... don't really know what to say." She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I... I really like him, Ginny."

Ginny laughed. "I know."

"You know?" Hermione blinked in shock. Had she been that obvious?

"I've known for a while," Ginny replied, reaching for the bowl of salad that was sitting to her right. "Since your fifth year, at least."

Hermione remained silent, taking the bowl for Ginny and putting some of the lettuce on her plate. "Oh," she finally said.

Ginny took a bite, a thoughtful expression on her face. "If it matters," she said at last, "I'm pretty sure he likes you, too."

"You think so?" Hermione asked in spite of herself, her gaze once again slipping down the table and settling on that messy black hair. She grinned as Dean reached across the table and removed the knife from Harry's hand, once again keeping them from potential harm.

"I do," Ginny nodded. "He stares at you all the time."

"He does?" Hermione tilted her head in question. She couldn't remember Harry ever staring at her.

"All the time." Ginny took another bite. "He does it when you're not looking at him."

"Well," Hermione said, picking up her fork. "That's interesting, then."

"I rather thought so as well," Ginny said with a smile.

***

Harry had caught himself staring at Hermione several more times that afternoon; he hadn't really believed Seamus when he'd said he stared at her all the time, but was beginning to see that he was indeed correct. He did stare a lot.

"Harry," Ron said, adding a jab in the ribs for emphasis. "Are you all right, mate? You seem a bit off."

"I'm not off," Harry replied sharply, then snapped his mouth shut. That certainly didn't sound defensive. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at himself.

Ron raised his eyebrows. "No need to get angry, mate. I was just saying that you're acting a little strange." He turned back to his Transfiguration essay that was currently spread across the table.

Harry sighed. "Sorry, Ron. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just... Seamus said something to me today in History of Magic that's kind of made me think a bit."

Ron set his quill down and turned to face Harry. "And what did Seamus say?"

Harry leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache brewing just behind his eyes. "Seamus told me that I... well, that I... stare at Hermione. A lot."

Ron laughed slightly. "Harry, you do stare at Hermione." Harry looked up in surprise. "Well, you do," Ron added matter of factly.

"I... well, why didn't you tell me?" Harry's voice had gotten rather loud and several people in the Common Room turned to look at him. He sighed; he hated being the center of attention.

"Mind your own business," Ron told the onlookers firmly. They all jumped slightly at his tone and turned back to what they were doing, although Harry knew with certainty that they were still listening. Ron turned back to Harry, who gave him a slight smile. Ron had always fancied himself as Harry's protector.

Ron reached across the table to grab a piece of parchment that had rolled itself up and was balanced precariously on the edge of the table. "I didn't tell you because I thought you'd figure it out yourself. Merlin, they say I'm dense."

Harry scowled at him. "Thanks a lot, Ron."

Ron shrugged and unrolled the parchment. "So are you going to do anything about it? Oh, and give me your hand."

"My hand?" Harry stared blankly at his palm and Ron sighed in exasperation.

"Yes, Harry, your hand. We're doing palm reading, remember?"

"Of course I remember," Harry replied, holding out his right hand palm up. "I just thought you were working on Transfiguration."

Ron grasped Harry's hand, pulling it closer to him and nearly unseating Harry in the process. "I was. But Transfiguration is boring. Besides, my hand hurts from all the writing."

Harry rolled his eyes, laying his unoccupied arm on the table to give himself a bit more leverage in hope that it would keep him from falling out of his chair. "All right, what does my palm say? Impending doom, perhaps?"

Ron laughed. "I don't know yet. Let's see." With his free hand he opened his book and thumbed through the pages until he found the correct one. "Aha. You're... well, you've got a conic hand, which means you are 'caring and want to journey through life with someone special'. Hermione, perhaps?" he asked with a grin.

Harry looked at him pointedly. "And what else does it say?"

"You have a gentle curve, which means you've got a balanced personality, and your fingers are... thin, which means you've got a logical mind and a diplomatic nature. Hmm. You know who else fits those qualifications? Hermione."

Harry resisted the urge to shove his friend's face into his book. "Anything else?" he said between gritted teeth.

"Oh, sure, loads of stuff, really," Ron said cheerfully. "For instance, your nails are long, which means you're reliable and affectionate. Your thumb has a... pointed top, which means you need to be loved and appreciated." Ron batted his eyes coyly. "That's really lovely, Harry. And you know who could do that for you? Her--"

"Ron, if you finish that statement, I am going to turn you into a toad. I get the point, okay? I'll talk to Hermione."

"Talk to me about what?" Hermione asked as she climbed in through the portrait hole, with Ginny right behind her. She arched an eyebrow at Ron and Harry's clasped hands and said, "Have you two finally admitted your undying love for each other?"

Harry blushed crimson and hastily pulled his hand away. Ron simply sat back in his chair and howled with laughter.

"Er, not quite, Hermione. We were working on Divination," Harry managed to get out, practically yelling to be heard over Ron's chortling.

"Ah," Hermione said with a nod, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Well, that's fine, then."

Harry stood, but not before giving Ron a swift kick in the shin. "Actually, Hermione, I was wondering if you had a minute. I... need to talk to you about something."

"Oh." Hermione looked surprised for a moment, but nodded her head. "Of course, Harry. Let me just run this stuff up to my room."

Harry watched her hurry up the stairs, then shook himself slightly as he remembered that he was once again staring. He turned to face Ginny and Ron, who both looked like they were having trouble holding in their laughter.

"What?" he asked cautiously, although he was certain he knew what they were going to say.

Ginny looked at Ron for a moment, then turned to face Harry, a serene smile on her face.

"You were staring."

Harry groaned.

***

Hermione threw her bag on the bed, scaring Crookshanks and sending him straight under the bed with a loud meow.

"Sorry, Crookshanks. I didn't mean to startle you. It's just... well, Harry wants to talk to me."

She opened her wardrobe and looked in the mirror hanging on the door, running a hand through her hair. She was glad she'd taken the time to use the straightening spell she had discovered fourth year--her hair was actually laying flat for once.

She checked her pocket for her wand, as had become habit over seven years of schooling, and tugged on her jumper to straighten it out. She noticed her hands were shaking slightly and decided that this wouldn't do at all. She was not going to get flustered over talking to a boy. Not even Harry.

She shook her head.

Especially not Harry.

She had now known him for seven years and thought she pretty much knew everything about him; she knew how he thought, his likes and dislikes, and his triggers. And she thought she might indeed know what this conversation they were about to have was going to be about.

She looked once more in the mirror before reaching into her book bag for her regular Muggle lip gloss and applying a thin layer. There. Now she was ready.

She left the room, closing the door softly behind her, and walked slowly down the stairs, trying to get her nerves a bit more under control. Harry was waiting for her at the portrait hole and smiled at her as she came into his line of vision.

He always smiles at me, she thought with a smile of her own.

"Ready?" he asked. "I thought we could head on outside since it's so nice out today. Is that okay?"

"Sure, Harry," Hermione replied easily, hoisting herself up into the opening. "That sounds great."

***

Harry made inane conversation with her as they walked outside. He asked her how her classes were going, if she liked her classes, and if she'd heard any new news from her parents, who were on holiday in Italy. She answered all his questions, talking for a bit longer about Magical Artifacts, which had turned out to be one of her favorite classes, and dropping a hint that her parents hoped he could join them during the summer for a bit.

Harry was having a hard time keeping his hands occupied and was afraid that it was dreadfully obvious. He tried sticking them in his pockets, but that made his jumper ride up, so he then tried holding them at his sides, but that didn't work either as it left his fingers free to pluck at the threads of his trousers. He resisted the urge to sigh, deciding that he'd been doing enough of that today as it was and really needed to break that habit.

They finally reached the edge of the lake and Harry sat on a fallen log right on the shore. He picked up a stick off the ground and rolled it between his hands. He had to say this just right.

"Hermione," he said, looking up at her. "We've known each other for a long time now."

"Harry," she replied with as much seriousness as she could muster. "We have."

He blinked at her. "Yes. Well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about...."

"Oh?" she asked, sitting down next to him on the log. "What is it?"

"Well, I'm not really sure how to say this, you know."

"Harry, just say it," Hermione said, reaching out and tilting his chin up so he was looking at her.

He stared at her. Then he raised a hand and brushed a few stray hairs away from her face, before cupping her cheek. "I...." He stopped, trying to find the right words, but unable to do so. So he did the next best thing.

He leaned in and kissed her.

She melted into him. Her hands came up to frame his face and their noses bumped as she leaned forward slightly. Harry himself wasn't that experienced of a kisser, but he knew without a doubt that this was perfection. His eyes fell closed as he brought his other hand up and threaded it through her hair.

They ran out of air after a moment and Harry pulled away, laughing slightly at himself. Hermione's eyes were glowing and she had a faint flush on her cheeks. She looked absolutely lovely.

"Is that what you wanted to tell me, Harry?" Hermione asked with a smile. "Or is there more?"

"Oh, there's more," Harry replied quietly. "I... I just want to say thanks for everything you've done for me. And I want to let you know that I... I really like you, Hermione, and... well, I guess you like me, too, right?"

Hermione laughed and placed another kiss on Harry's mouth. "I do like you Harry. More than anything."

"Ah, well, that's good then. Now I won't have to worry whether I'm staring or not. Because I've got an excuse now. You're mine to look at whenever I want." He grinned.

Hermione smiled too, reaching up and brushing some strands of ink-black hair out of his eyes. "I believe I could get used to that."

Harry leaned closer. "Good," he said, and kissed her again.

***