Every Rose Has Its Thorns

Harry and Hermione had just exited the Entrance Hall through the mammoth wooden doors when they heard a familiar voice.

"You don't mind my having a private word with you?"

Severus Snape had just walked out of the Great Hall with the forty-ish Professor Sinistra, head of the Astronomy Department, by his side.

Harry cracked the door open a bit, kneeled, and motioned for Hermione to lean over him and watch the scene unraveling before them. She obliged, and the two of them peeked through the sliver of open door into the Entrance Hall.

"Of course not, Severus, what's on your mind?" the pretty Professor Sinistra smiled at Snape, displaying her extraordinarily good-natured disposition.

"Well, as you know, a Hogsmeade weekend is coming up for the older students. Seeing as how it's my turn to chaperone, I was wondering if you would care to accompany me, and save me from utter boredom," Snape said hurriedly, a light pink color barely rising in his sallow cheeks.

"It sounds lovely, Severus. I would be delighted," Professor Sinistra replied, nodding her head in consent.

"Lovely," Snape repeated, and actually gave Professor Sinistra a true half-smile, devoid of any sarcasm or malice. "Until then, Sarah," he said softly, tucking a rose into her hand. Hermione recognized it as the rose she had placed on Snape's desk earlier that afternoon.

Snape then walked off towards the dungeons in a flurry of robes of black hair, leaving Professor Sinistra all alone in the Entrance Hall.

"Until then indeed. About time he asked me," she said to herself, grinning widely, as she walked off in the general direction of the Astronomy Tower entrance.

Harry silently closed the door before turning to Hermione, who had a solemn look upon her face. They stood this way for a few moments until Hermione broke the silence and spoke.

"That was ...," she began, unable to finish her sentence, astonishment filling her eyes.

"Beautiful?" Harry finished for her quietly, staring at his shoes.

"I was thinking more along the lines of bizarre, but I suppose it could qualify as beautiful, too."

Harry looked up at his friend in amazement and confusion. Right on cue, Hermione burst out laughing, and was soon crying with mirth. Harry laughed nervously, unsure of what to make of the situation at hand. Looking for an excuse to change the subject, he checked his new watch, which Dobby the House Elf had given him for his last birthday ("Sir is needing a new watch after sir competed in the Triwizard Tournament!" the note had read, which was the truth; Harry's watch had ceased to work properly after the Second Task).

"C'mon, Herm, we really need to go. We'll have to schedule the flower-picking extravaganza for another day," he joked as he adjusted his Quidditch robes and repositioned the Firebolt on his shoulder.

"Race you there!" Hermione shouted, and before Harry knew what was happening, Hermione had begun running for all she was worth towards the Quidditch pitch.

Harry rolled his eyes and grinned. Hermione knew she could never beat Harry in a proper race, even with a brilliant head start, but she initiated these races quite often anyway. He usually beat her without even getting winded, but sometimes he let her win, as well. He decided to let her win this one.

Hermione was running as fast as her legs, broom, and heavy pack would allow her to, and Harry jogged a few yards behind her, occasionally shouting, "I'm catching up!" or, "I'm getting closer!". These threats were, of course, empty, and when Hermione crossed the "finish line" (the outer rim of the white-chalk-marked Quidditch pitch) she jumped up and down and smiled happily at Harry.

"Let's see how the great Harry Potter likes that," she said, her face flushed from a combination of excitement and the cold. She flashed Harry another grin before she took her customary seat on the bleachers and began her Potions assignment.

Harry, however, had different plans. He had allowed Hermione to win the race, but he wasn't going to let her get away with that last comment. "Hey, 'Mione, I think you dropped something over here!" he said, as he mounted his Firebolt, hovered a few feet from the ground, and pointed to an area of the green grass below him.

"I did?" Hermione said uncertainly as she walked over to where Harry was floating.

In one fatal swoop, Harry aimed the broom at Hermione's legs, knocked her backwards onto him, and flew high into the sky.

"Harry Potter, you take me down this instant! By God, if you drop me ... ," but the end of her sentence was whipped from her lips as Harry tightened his grip around her slender waist, making her feel warm and safe.

"Swing your other leg over! You can't ride a broom side-saddle!" Harry shouted over the wind to Hermione, who quickly evened her weight on the broomstick and leaned farther back into Harry.

Harry brought his mouth very close to Hermione's ear so he wouldn't have to yell, "You said you wanted a flying lesson."

Hermione shivered at his closeness, and hoped Harry would think it was from the cool wind. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind," she answered back, although she was clearly enjoying herself.

For the next ten minutes they soared in silence, high above the grounds. The sun was beginning to set, and they witnessed one of the most beautiful sunsets in the history of Hogwarts - but, of course, they didn't realize how romantic the setting was. As far as they were concerned, they were just two good friends spending time together, never having to verbalize, and yet communicating the whole time.

"What song is that?" Hermione asked when Harry began humming softly.

Harry smiled impishly. "You'd make fun."

Now it was Hermione's turn to smile at her best friend's embarrassment. "I won't, I promise," she said as she closed her eyes and sank farther back into Harry's chest. "Go on, Harry, sing."

Harry thought to himself "Why not, it's just Hermione."

So he sang.

I'll be there for you;
These five words I swear to you;
When you breathe, I want to be the air for you;
I'll be there for you.

I'd live and I'd die for you;
Steal the sun from the sky for you;
Words can't say what love can do;
I'll be there for you.

"Shoot, it looks like the rest of the team is there already," Harry said suddenly, abrubtly finishing his solo and awakening Hermione from her light daze. He flew top-speed back to the Quidditch pitch and landed gracefully in front of the rest of the Gryffindor House team.

"Where've ya been, Harry?" George Weasley asked, winking secretively at his team captain as Hermione dismounted Harry's Firebolt and returned to her spot on the bleachers.

"We got here early, and I thought I'd give Hermione a quick flying lesson before practice," Harry replied truthfully.

"Is flying all you were teaching her?" Fred Weasley asked slyly as he and George mounted their Cleansweep Fives and circled the pitch a few times.

"How are the twins trying to twist the situation this time?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Oh, honestly, Harry! You come flying onto the Quidditch pitch with a girl snuggled up against you after watching one of the most gorgeous sunsets ever, and you wonder why Gred and Forge think something's up?" Katie Bell, sensing Harry's confusion on one of the two topics mentioned by Alicia, asked matter-of-factly as she applied lip balm to protect her chapped lips from the growing cold. She then mounted her broom and kicked off the ground.

"But it's Hermione. She's my friend," Harry whined, finally picking up on what Fred and George were going on about.

"I swear, Harry, sometimes you're as thick as Fred," said Angelina Johnson, Fred's long-time girlfriend, as she finished pulling her short black hair into two pigtails. She and Alicia, her best friend, then set off simultaneously for the goal posts, Quaffle in hand, to practice a little one-on-one.

Harry sneaked a glance at Hermione, sitting alone on the bleachers. Her plait was blowing gaily in the wind, and wispy curls were coming out from the elastic she had used to secure the hair style, framing her pixie-ish face. Her head was bent close to the Potions book, but Harry could still see the glimmer her deep brown eyes held ...

"Wait, what am I doing!?" Harry mentally kicked himself, and attempted to erase the thought from his mind. "This is Hermione I'm thinking about! Hermione! Bookworm, smarty-pants, know-it-all, incredibly pretty ... where the hell did that come from!?"

Harry physically shook his head, as if trying to loosen the thought that now played on his mind and make it fall out. He quickly mounted his broom and, in a tremendous burst of speed, caught up to the rest of his teammates, determined to forget everything that had crossed his mind just moments before.

"Crimany, Fred! Why didja have to go and do that?" Angelina shouted at her boyfriend after he had thrown a handful of gloppy mud at her uniform.

"Crimany, Angel! Like it isn't muddy already!" Fred imitated her haughty voice perfectly, but because of the addition of his pet name for her, it was obvious that Fred was only teasing.

"Oooooooooo!" was all Angelina could think to yell before she rammed her boyfriend in the gut like a bull, and he fell backward into a particularly dirty mud puddle. Fred immediately grabbed Angelina by the hand and pulled her down with him. They wrestled loudly until they were so completely covered in mud you could no longer tell the true color of their uniforms.

The rest of the present Gryffindor House team finally touched down as well after a freakishly strenuous practice in the pouring rain. Alicia was wringing out her soaked hair, and George was trying to convince Katie that, with her hair in its current state, she looked exactly like one of his older male cousins. Katie then took to pounding on George, and soon the two had joined in on the wrestling match between Angelina and Fred. Alicia shook her head at the sight of her four best friends rolling in mud puddles before she grabbed her broom and made her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry also watched the scene in front of him, torn between amusement and annoyance. After all, the Slytherin team would soon be arriving for their practice time, and if they were to see the Gryffindor team in this state, Snape would surely take off fifty points apiece for some idiotic reason.

But Snape really isn't as bad as you thought, remember?

A voice from deep within the recesses of Harry's mind had awakened and interrupted his train of thought.

"Oh, shut it, you. For the purpose of this conversation with myself, Snape is still a heartless git," Harry muttered vehemently as he wiped specks of mud from his filthy glasses.

"All right everyone, get up. Slytherin will be arriving soon, and we don't need them cracking jokes on our team just because they have matching broomsticks," Harry ordered his brawling teammates. They did as he said, although they looked slightly disgruntled as they stood - or at least Harry thought it was disgruntlement. They resembled Mud People so much it was difficult to make out their expressions,

The four muddied players began tramping back to Gryffindor Tower, careful to splash as much mud as possible on the Slytherin players as they passed their rivals.

Harry smiled faintly at the sight of Malfoy spluttering on a wad of mud that had been discreetly aimed at his smirking mouth by none other than Angelina, who simply began whistling and walked off when Malfoy turned on her, fuming.

Remembering Hermione, Harry turned and walked back across the pitch to the bleachers where Hermione was still seated. She had long since finished her Potions assignment and put it back in her waterproof pack (which had been magicked on, of course), and was, although soaking wet and visibly shivering, currently asleep. Harry, against his better judgment, took a moment to notice the gentle contours of her face, and the shadow that her thick eyelashes made upon her soft cheeks ...

"Potter! Get that Mudblood off our field before we curse you two into next week!" Malfoy's familiar voice was, as usual, edged with hatred.

"Malfoy! Sod off before I hex you into oblivion!" Harry shouted back over his shoulder, his voice equally as hateful. Harry then lightly shook Hermione's shoulder to wake her up. She stirred a little before opening one eye and blinking at the friend whose face hovered above hers.

"You fell asleep. It's late. After nine o'clock. We need to get going, or McGonagall will have our heads."

Hermione simply nodded in understanding before she collected her unused broomstick and backpack.

"You know," Harry said, grinning, "you could have left if you needed a proper nap."

Hermione laughed. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. The rain was giving off such a soothing sound, and I guess I just dozed off. I suppose we ought to reschedule my flying lesson as well as the flower-picking?" she asked.

"I suppose so. Tomorrow's Friday, how does Saturday sound? We can do it after the Hogsmeade trip," he said as the pair began walking back to the castle. Hermione nodded before she gave a huge shudder.

"Should you go to the Hospital Wing?" Harry asked worridly.

"No, no, all I need is a good night's sleep. I certainly don't want to have another visit with Madame Pomfrey in the next few months. I've had my fair share of Pepper-Up Potion already," she made a face, recalling the instance only weeks prior in which she had been confined to the Hospital Wing for a fortnight because of a dreadful cold.

"Well, at least take my cloak. The one you're wearing does nothing in this rain," Harry said as he unbuttoned his cloak and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders. Although soaked and muddy on the outside, Hermione found its insides to be warm and inviting. Harry rubbed his hands up and down her arms in an effort to put some warmth in her petite body.

"That's much better, thanks," Hermione said, giving Harry a shy smile. The pair then made their way in silence back to the Gryffindor Tower.

Later that night, safe in the sanctuary of her dormitory and pajamas, hidden by the curtains surrounding her four-poster bed, Hermione fell asleep under a certain Gryffindor Quidditch cloak, now dry and mud-free, that smelled of sun, grass, and chocolate.