Marked

Harry was unaware of anything but the beat of his own heart against his chest and the overwhelming pull of something greater than himself from outside his body to his core. There was a pull, but no awareness of movement. An inexplicable draw, but no apparent cause. There was an unnamed force in the room with him and it was all he could do not to scream out from the urge to split open and bring it inside himself.

He was trapped. Trapped in this body. Trapped in the room. Trapped in the certainty that whatever happened, if he did not escape soon, or give in to this strange feeling, some form of him would die in this state.

Slowly, awareness came, and with it the further certainty that he would die. He was on the floor of the dungeon office, looking up at the boy who would be his demise. Harry fought against that thought as he saw himself across the room, wand pointed straight out, shouting a spell that sent out a shaft of light, temporarily blinding himself on the floor and igniting the bright flames.

When he felt it begin, he began wishing frantically for the quick relief of death. He bucked in place, cries flying from his throat as the skin melted from his muscles. "No, this isn't the end! You can hurt me, but I won't die here," he shouted. The fire spread deeper and Harry twisted in place, struggling to avoid its painful kiss across his body.

Several hard slaps across his face woke him from the dream. Harry awoke to the dark of his dorm room, broken only by thin streams of moonlight coming through the curtains. He looked around to see the worried faces of his roommates, all staring at him as he sat on the floor. Harry blinked and flinched away from the sudden burst of light when Neville lit the fire.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, bending over him. "I wasn't sure what to do."

"I...no, I'm fine," Harry said. He realized he was shaking and put his arms around himself. "I'm sorry I woke everyone," he said a bit louder. He started to stand and sat down hard again when his legs wouldn't support him.

"We can get someone for you," Neville said.

"No," Harry said. "Everyone go back to sleep. I'll be fine." Several other boys had come out of their rooms and crowded the doorway. He groaned softly and closed his eyes. He'd had enough attention lately. The last thing he needed was more fodder for the "crazy" rumors. Harry opened his eyes when he felt Hermione's presence at his side, her trembling fingers going over his face.

"What happened?" Harry blurted the truth before he could think to stop himself.

"I was inside it," Harry whispered. His hands jerked over his arms as if he could feel the fire beginning to eat away at him again. "He was k-killing me." He shook his head quickly and tried to focus his thoughts. "He'd set me on fire and--" Harry stopped, realizing he had begun speaking loud enough for his roommates and whoever was in the doorway to hear. He looked up. Fred and George Weasley were mouthing something at their brother and nodding in his direction. They disappeared from the doorway to be replaced by several other boys.

"I can't...I don't want to talk about it," Harry said.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. "This seems worse than last night."

"No, I can't." He looked around at the room. With the exception of Seamus, his roommates were watching him in open sympathy. He didn't need their pity, he needed a way out of the death sentence Voldemort had given him. He closed his eyes and Hermione put her arms around him.

"Don't worry about them," she whispered.

"Harry, are you all right?"

His eyes shot open and he felt himself relax minutely at the sight of Remus Lupin coming across the room. "Professor Lupin? When did you get here?"

"A few hours ago," he said, surprise registering on his face. "I hadn't realized you'd know who I am. You weren't at dinner when the announcement was made."

"I...I've seen photos," Harry said, figuring explaining the truth would be too much.

"Professor McGonagall told me you might be having a hard time," Remus said. He kneeled on Harry's other side. "Do you want to talk about it?" Harry shook his head. "Do you want a potion to help you sleep?" He shook his head again.

"Come on, Harry. Take something," Hermione pleaded. She lowered her voice. "No one will think you're weak if you need something to help you sleep. Do this for yourself. You need your rest."

"No, I can't take anything," he protested. "I don't need it. Besides, I have to get up for class in a few hours."

"You're not going to class," Remus said firmly. "I'll tell Professor McGonagall and your other professors in the morning. You won't be able to focus on spell work if you don't get any sleep. Besides that, none of us will have you in class when you're not well."

"I'm fine," Harry said again, knowing that word was nowhere close to what he felt. He pushed himself up. This time his legs supported him and he backed up, sliding up onto his bed. "It was nothing." Before Hermione could interrupt again, he added, "I'll be able to go to sleep without any help." He reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. Their eyes met and he felt a small pang at the worry in hers. "Thank you," he whispered. He looked into Hermione's eyes for a few seconds before releasing her hand.

"If you're sure..."

"I'm sure," Harry said. "Go back to bed."

With one last worried glance in his direction, Hermione finally seemed to assure herself that Harry would be all right and disappeared through the crowded doorway. Within minutes, the rest of the boys had settled back into their rooms, the fire was put out and Harry lay back behind the curtains of his own bed, frantic thoughts of how Voldemort had wanted to merge with him in his dream keeping his eyes open until the sun began to fill the room with light.

It was just after sunrise when Harry finally dropped into a fitful sleep. It seemed like only minutes later, Hermione was pushing at his shoulder, whispering in his ear until he reached up to grasp her by both shoulders and tumbled her onto the bed with him. He didn't open his eyes completely until he'd blindly groped the curtains around the bed closed.

His vision was blurry, but Harry could make out the small smile she held in the semi-darkness as she looked up at him. He shifted on the bed until they were laying side-by-side, Hermione on her back, Harry leaning up on his elbows and wearing his own smile as he looked down at her.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," she said back. He bent to kiss her and she hummed in pleasure, briefly running her fingers through his hair.

When Harry leaned back again, he stared at Hermione for a long moment, trying to remember when he'd felt so content just being next to someone. If what she really needed was to know he felt that and more, Harry supposed he could force himself to try to tell her what he was thinking. Pushing past his nerves would be a lot easier than having to see that sad look in her eyes when he knew she was wishing he felt the same way.

He lowered himself until he was level with her on the bed and slipped an arm over her waist, pulling her close to his side. His lips moved to her neck and he smiled against her skin as she wiggled to pull away from his grasp. "This is my favorite way to wake up. You know what I want right now?"

Hermione giggled and Harry felt a corresponding warmth spread through his chest at the sound. "I can guess, but what you're going to get is breakfast in the common room."

Harry squeezed her tight and planted a sound kiss on her lips. She held his head in place and kissed him back slowly before releasing him and pushing him back by both shoulders. "Tease," Harry said before releasing her. "I'll be down in a few."

Still smiling, Hermione wiggled her way from the bed and left Harry to his thoughts--not only the remaining faint whispers of Voldemort and Horcruxes, but a million and one plans for how he was going to convince the girl he was crazy about her.

When he came into the common room a few minutes later, Hermione was curled up on one corner of a sofa in front of the fireplace with a copy of the Daily Prophet opened in front of her. A nearby table held a tray with a glass of pumpkin juice and a plate covered by a silver dome. She looked up as Harry walked closer, smiling as he reached for the juice before he sat down.

"Didn't feel like brushing your hair?"

Harry swallowed the juice in two large gulps before lowering the glass back to the table. "I brushed my hair," he said defensively. "Not my fault it never wants to cooperate. I'm sure I look exactly the way I feel this morning." He motioned to the newspaper. "Anything interesting?"

Hermione shook her head. "I've read it cover to cover. There's nothing that looks like it might be Death Eater activity. Mostly the normal news."

"Mostly?"

Offering a small smile, Hermione closed the paper and reluctantly showed Harry the front cover. He tried not to wince as he took in the main headline. Beneath the headline "The Heart of Grief" was a large photo of Harry's family. Taken during the funeral, Raven was sitting on his lap while he wiped her tears. Lily was pulling them both close to her--one hand holding Raven's--and leaning over to kiss Harry's forehead. If he hadn't been a part of the charade, he would've thought it a very believable depiction of a family suffering a devastating loss. At least Raven wasn't playing to the cameras or an audience.

"Do I want to read the article?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "There's no point, really. At least half a page of it was a rehash of your eulogy." Harry nodded, remembering the sappy string of lies he'd spoken at his sister's urging. "Your mum laid it on pretty thick with that reporter and he printed every word. The article goes on to pages three and four. I don't know how she came up with all of it."

"Speaking of my mum, I talked to her about you last night."

Hermione nodded, pulling the paper closer and folding it in half. "I figured as much. I don't want to talk about what she said to me." She paused. "Unless what she said made you change your mind about us, then...I don't know," she whispered.

"Why would she make me change my mind about you?" Harry asked. Hermione's eyes lifted from the newspaper and swept back and forth over Harry's face. "She told me she thinks you're wonderful."

"She did?" Shock brought a small smile to her face.

Harry grinned. "Don't sound so surprised. She just wants us to be careful that we know what we're getting into."

"That you know what you're getting into," she responded, her smile dropping.

"Well, yeah. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Hermione glanced past him. "You should get to your breakfast. I'm going to grab a book. I know I'm falling behind in Arithmancy and I don't want to be lost in class tomorrow." She stood from the sofa and moved towards the stairs.

"You didn't have to miss class for me again," Harry said.

"Of course I did," Hermione responded. She turned to him and, for the first time since the night before, he saw the fear and concern she'd been harboring for him returned full force. "I won't let you deal with something like this by yourself," she said. "I know you didn't want to get into it last night, but if you want to tell me about the dream later, I'll be here."

Harry nodded and watched as Hermione ran up the stairs to get her school books.

When Harry yawned for the third time in as many minutes, Hermione closed her book and sighed in exasperation. "Tell the truth, how much sleep did you get last night?"

"You mean this morning," he said automatically. Harry scratched his head and squinted in the direction of the window. The early afternoon sunlight was streaming through the window, just reaching the end of the sofa where they'd spent most of the day talking and avoiding eye contact with the few students who'd popped in between classes. No one had thrown a hex in his direction, Harry was happy to note. Maybe there was some use to that bullshit article in the Prophet. "I think I got in a couple of hours before I woke up and almost nothing after the nightmare."

"Was it because of the dream or was something else bothering you?" Hermione asked.

Something in her voice was off. He couldn't say how exactly, but he could tell all the same. Harry glanced at Hermione, but her face was blank. "I assume it was just because of the dream," he said. "The whole situation, really. I didn't get any sleep when I skipped dinner last night either. Not until after everyone else had gone to bed."

"Too much to think about?" Hermione asked. She'd attempted to ask the question in an off-hand manner but, again, something about the way she'd spoken set off alarm bells in Harry's head.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. As she began to shake her head, he added, "I can tell something's bothering you. Just tell me what it is."

"I'm worried about you," she said softly. Hermione moved closer to him on the sofa and touched a hand to the side of his face. "You can't keep going on like this. I'm bringing you something to take tonight."

"How long can I survive taking something to help me sleep?"

"As long as you need to," she responded.

"What if I'd rather get sleep without having to force it? I could become dependant or something."

Hermione smiled. "You know these potions are safe. I'll say it again, it doesn't make you weak if you have to take something. You've been through hell. Anyone would be having trouble dealing with it."

"I've dealt with the nightmares before, Hermione. It's nothing I can't handle for a while again if I have to."

"You don't have to," she responded. "You need to be rested and relaxed or you won't be able to focus on anything. Why don't we try something?" She moved closer on the sofa and kneeled next to Harry, placing her fingers on his temples. "This worked when you were trying to extract your memories the first time, maybe it'll help you relax enough to sleep."

"Even if it works this time, I can't have you with me in bed every night," Harry said.

"Well..." She bit back a comment and smiled instead. "Just close your eyes and relax." Hermione began moving her fingers in gentle circles over his temples. "Think of something that makes you feel good and focus only on that."

Harry closed his eyes. He didn't know if it was her proximity, coupled with the fact that he could smell her peach-scented conditioner, but the first picture to enter his head was Hermione standing naked in the Prefects' bathroom. She'd been blushing as he'd eyed her body openly. Then she'd slid into the water and teased and tempted him until he could barely control himself. He thought of how it had felt to touch her and felt his body begin to respond. Harry had felt like an idiot not to take her up on her offer then, but he'd needed her assurance that he wasn't just a warm body with the right face.

Now, he supposed she needed his assurance that she meant as much to him as he did to her. Hermione had told him repeatedly that he didn't have to be in love with her for their relationship to work, but even if she'd never admit it, Harry knew the last thing she wanted was to give herself to someone who didn't truly care for her as more than a friend. Or even the unnamed, intermediate state she thought his feelings were in. As his mind and body relaxed under her touch, Harry acknowledged she wouldn't have to wait much longer for the affirmation she needed. As soon as he could admit to himself just how far in the past his feelings had truly changed.

Feeling better than he had in days, Harry awoke on the sofa and stretched in place, slowing his movements when he realized Hermione was asleep, curled up against his side. Looking at the window nearest the fireplace, he noticed the sun had moved farther to the west. The rest of the students were probably in their last class of the day. He was glad now that he hadn't made himself suffer through classes. This final day off was exactly what he'd needed.

Harry turned back to regard Hermione. Her expression brought a smile to his face. She seemed content then, her lips puckered just so, he almost hated to wake her. Leaning forward, he placed his lips tentatively to hers, smiling against them when she woke and responded. Sighing, he leaned forward into the kiss, pressing her back into the sofa as he joined their mouths in a leisurely coupling of lips and tongue.

Within minutes, they were both panting as Harry pressed her body into the yielding material beneath them. Hermione sighed as his mouth drifted to her ear and then her neck, teasing her skin with soft kisses. Her heart beat a swift tattoo against her chest, strong enough that Harry could feel it as they kissed. He felt the corresponding rhythm in his as they melded together; every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation.

"Harry, you feel so good," she whispered. His hips shifted and she moaned, feeling the hard press of his muscles against her legs as her skirt bunched around her waist. He responded to her statement by rejoining their lips and sliding his hand along the outside of her thigh.

"I've found a much better way to occupy myself than sleeping today," he whispered against her lips. His mouth moved to her neck again and he nipped at her soft skin. "I don't know what you've done to me, Hermione, but I can't fight it anymore." Instantly, she stiffened beneath him. Harry nearly growled as Hermione's hand connected with his shoulder and she pushed him away. She slid back from him into a sitting position a foot away on the sofa.

"Something wrong?"

"No," she said. She looked away from him quickly and turned towards the fireplace, straightening her skirt. "I didn't realize you'd feel up to doing anything after not getting much sleep last night. You looked like you'd been through hell this morning."

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I felt like crap. Sleeping next to you helped quite a lot." He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder. She jerked away from his touch and then moved further into the corner of the sofa. "Are you sure you're all right? I thought..." He stopped, letting his confused thoughts go unspoken.

Hermione shrugged one shoulder and looked at him from the corner of her eye. "I don't feel quite right myself today, actually."

She turned to him fully then and Harry read the worry and sadness in her eyes. The shock of Hermione's mood change hit him like a bucket of cold water. His heart began thudding at triple speed, though from a very different reason than it had before. Had he put that shattered look there? Harry frowned as she rubbed her forearms before settling her hands in her lap.

"You do know why I want to be with you, right?" Hermione asked.

"You love me," he said obediently.

"Well, yes. But, do you know why?" She lifted one hand from her lap half-heartedly before letting it fall back down. "You know it's not because of your money or...or...or because I just want to save you or something, right?"

Harry paused, unsure of where this was coming from. "I know you've cared about me for a long time, since before the money--or what's happened the past few weeks."

"Right," she responded absently. "And you know the idea of us being together isn't just so I can hold on to you?" She turned to him. "It's because I love you and I want us to share something special. I want us to have something we'll never have with anyone else."

Harry nodded, watching her sudden agitated expression with some concern as she stared at a space in the distance. He waited for her to ask him about his feelings like she had before. "What are you getting at?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

Hermione jerked at the sound of his voice as if she'd forgotten he was there. "Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you know how I feel." She stood from the sofa suddenly, grabbed her book and began walking towards the stairs. "I have a headache. I don't think I'm going to come down for dinner. I left the potion next to your bed," she said over her shoulder. Without another word or glance back, Hermione ran up the stairs and into the girls' dorm.

Confusion at an all-time high, Harry leaned back into the sofa and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't know what had gotten into her, but he knew just thinking about how she'd run away from him would haunt him until he found the reason behind it. Suddenly, his own appetite joined his ability to sleep--lost to a nightmare he didn't begin to understand.

The door to the dorm room slammed closed and Harry jumped up into a sitting position on his bed, startled out of a state of half-sleep. Peering around the curtains, he saw Ron and Neville crossing the room to their beds, the former giving him a cautious look as he walked to his section of the room. Harry nodded in Ron's direction and then directed another towards Neville.

"I've told him everything," Neville said by way of greeting.

Harry nodded. "I thought you'd have to tell someone."

"Told you he wouldn't care if I said something to you," Neville said to Ron.

Ron sat on his bed and looked at Harry, searching his face. Harry tried not to roll his eyes at the scrutiny. He was staring as if they hadn't met before, though they'd been around each other for weeks. Of all people, Ron was the last person he would have expected that from. "I'm not sure I believe you," Ron said finally.

Harry shrugged. Not only was he long past the urge to try to convince yet another person he was telling the truth, he had another issue on his mind that was a bit more pressing. "Believe it or don't," Harry said. "Things are going to fall a certain way regardless."

"So what about all of that stuff Professor Trelawney said to you the other week?"

Harry shrugged. "Who knows with her? She was right about the illness, at least. And about me being marked for death." He sighed and pushed off the bed, strolling slowly across the room. "I don't want to think about any of that crap right now. I've got enough on my mind without thinking about Voldemort." Harry decided to ignore the hissing sound Ron made when he said the name. If he was going to be any help to Neville or himself--if Ron intended to help at all--there were some things he had to get used to.

"Is something wrong?" Neville asked.

Harry glanced towards the door. "Where are Dean and Seamus?"

"They're staying downstairs until they think you've gone to sleep," Neville said. "You having problems with one of them?"

"No, it's not that. I just don't think they'd have any sympathy for me right now, especially Seamus," Harry said. He sighed and looked down at his feet. "The problem is Hermione. Well, she's not really a problem. The problem is me. Or us." He shook his head in frustration. "Girls have a way of screwing up your head even Voldemort couldn't pull off."

Neville laughed. "You're kidding me. You've all this on your plate and she's giving you the most problems?"

"No," Harry said. "She's just...she's been acting so strange lately. I think I know what the problem is. She keeps telling me she loves me and then just sits there waiting for me to fill in the silence. Of course, then she pretends like it doesn't bother her that I haven't said it back." Harry ignored what sounded suspiciously like "you idiot" coming from Ron's general direction.

Neville waved Harry to come closer. Ron followed, sitting next to Neville on the bed. "Have you told her how you feel?" Neville asked.

"Sort of. It's kind of hard to get the words out," Harry said.

"That's the problem," Neville said. "Girls like to hear these things."

"You're the expert, then?"

Neville grinned. "No, but Lavender's certainly told me a lot I might not have guessed on my own. I suppose she doesn't have Hermione's patience, waiting for you to figure it out. You have to tell her or she'll spend hours alone, or with her friends, trying to analyze every word you say and everything you do. Then she'll drive you nuts trying to see if her theories fit."

"He's right," Ron put in.

"Right," Harry said. "So you've told Parvati how you feel?"

"I--what?" Ron paled as he leaned back and his ears quickly turned the color of ripe strawberries. His face started to follow suit. "No, I haven't said anything to her."

"But you've known she likes you for about a week now, right?" Harry asked.

"He's known longer than that," Neville said, laughing. "Been in denial."

"Can you blame me?" Ron asked. "Look at her and look at--" He motioned towards himself and gave the other two boys a lopsided smile. "I half-expected her to deny it last week. She's so..." He let his voice trail off and grinned at his unspoken thought. "This isn't about me. What are you going to do about Hermione?"

Harry shrugged. If he knew what to do, he wouldn't be going to either of them for advice. "Make myself tell her, I guess. It's her birthday tomorrow, so that's a good time, right?" He didn't care how lost he sounded at the moment, he had no wish to mess this up. He'd risked her giving up on him too many times already.

"Just don't put it on her cake," Ron suggested.

"Or in a card or anything like that," Neville added. "You have to say it if you want her to know you're sincere. The direct approach is the best one."

Harry nodded. "That takes care of one thing," he said. "Now comes the rest of it."

"The rest of what?"

Harry sighed. He couldn't believe he was going to do this. But, it had to be done. Even if he felt like an idiot for even having to admit this weakness. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing with her."

Silence greeted this statement. A long, embarrassing silence during which Harry wished a hole in the floor would open up and he could sink down into it. Was it possible this was a worse thing to get advice for than the whole "feelings" discussion?

"Um...do you want one of us to tell you what goes where?" Neville asked.

Harry laughed. "No, I think I've got that figured out pretty well on my own."

"You sure? Because, there are these charts--"

"What kind of tutoring did Lestrange give you?" Ron asked in a suddenly horrified voice.

Neville smiled and shook his head. "Just extra Potions lessons. I'm not getting into it again," he said. Harry was glad for that. He didn't want to hear the details. It would probably just give him more nightmares. "What do you need to know, Harry?"

At this point, Harry felt himself flush deep enough to match Ron's ears. "Uh...well, I've sort of got the basics down--kissing and the like--but I haven't the first clue how to...get a little further without going straight--"

"Catching the snitch?" Neville suggested.

"What?"

"Catching the snitch, it's the whole point of the game," Neville said. "You know, Quidditch? Left, right, center hoop, maneuvering around the pitch a bit and then catching the snitch."

"I should think of getting closer to Hermione like playing Quidditch?" Harry wasn't sure if the idea appealed to him or was appalling, but the smile dawning on Neville's face promised an interesting explanation at the very least.

Neville shook his head and his grin widened. "I can't believe no one's explained this to you before."

"To be honest, I have had other things on my mind for a while now."

"Right, right. Let me explain how the whole thing works and then I'll give you some tips on...how to play Quidditch properly. Best plays, fastest ways to score and all that."

Harry gave a knowing smile. "I know the fastest way to score already. But, I'm interested in how this all relates to Quidditch."

Neville grinned. "Most first years are interested in the explanation too," he teased. "Okay, right hoop is snogging. Simple enough. Apparently, you've accomplished that without anyone getting hexed in the process. There's some confusion about whether left or center hoop is next--"

"Center," Ron supplied.

"Left if this were a real game using proper strategy," Harry said.

"Doesn't matter," Neville said. "Right-to-center hoop is...how do I put this? Playing with her prophecy orbs while they're still...in the protective covering." He grinned. "Generally playing around the pitch. Good times for a beginner. Hell, good times if you're in the back of the library and no one's around," he said, smirking. "Center hoop is getting rid of the clothes, a little more creative play with the orbs. I wouldn't try that in the library unless you fancy Madam Pince putting you in a vise. And not the good kind." Neville grinned wider at Harry's deepening blush. "Not bothering you, am I? I could use more clinical terms."

Harry shook his head. "Keep going. This is interesting."

"Center-to-left hoop is letting her play with your broom, petting her Kneazle. Nothing too hardcore. Clothing optional but not preferred. Left hoop is major broom play, more petting, possibly more than petting if you're that brave. Pretty much anything you can get away with. Last step is catching the snitch." He nodded in Harry's direction. "You're sure I don't have to explain that in more detail for you?"

Harry laughed. "I'm sure I can figure it out, thanks. So, tips?"

"Easy," Neville said. "Go slow around the right hoop; that's a step you can never, ever skip. Even if you've been doing it for a bloody hour." He rolled his eyes as if remembering some drawn-out play of the game himself. "Moving to center hoop requires a little more...of a gentle touch. Don't be afraid to use your mouth. No teeth unless you do it lightly. Excessive squeezing is a really good way to get a knee somewhere unpleasant. Get good enough at scoring through this hoop and you can move straight to catching the snitch. Sometimes, though, going through all of them is worth all of the drama it took to get the girl to play in the first place."

Harry grinned and shook his head. A month ago, he never would've dreamed he'd hear Neville talk this way. Would've laughed if anyone had told him it was possible. He leaned against the bedpost as Neville continued.

"Center-to-left, again, way more fun than skipping steps. Be careful if your girl has sharp nails, though. You might want to cut yours too. If you've got good hand coordination, try center hoop at the same time. Same for balancing left and center. Left hoop is obviously a far more interesting use of the fingers. Best bet is go very slow here and pay attention to what she likes. I doubt Hermione would curse your bits off, but go sailing through this hoop too fast or too rough and we might end up calling you Harriet until you can get everything re-grown."

Harry laughed out loud at that. He couldn't imagine Hermione castrating him if he wasn't perfect first time out. But he could easily see her giving him step-by-step instructions. She'd probably love to order him around in bed. Admittedly, the thought appealed to him. Though, not as much as surprising her with his newfound expertise on a few things she might like.

"Catching the snitch," Neville said slowly. "Honestly, I can't give you any tips for that except don't jump into it too fast, definitely don't end the game too soon after you've gotten permission to catch it, wait for the other player to um... score before you do and, Merlin's sake, do not ask her if you can fly your broom in anywhere unusual unless you're absolutely sure she'd be up for that."

"What--?" Several images flashed through Harry's mind of what Neville might be hinting at before his sleep-starved brain showed him a picture of Hermione bending over in front of him, a wicked smile on her face. "Oh, never mind," Harry said. "Hermione would kill me if I so much as hinted I wanted to...fly in the back way."

Neville nodded. "Figured as much. Most girls our age aren't that adventurous, or so Lavender tells me. She'd know, seeing as how she's got a line on every girl third year and up." He smiled at Ron. "You really need to get around to asking Parvati out. Lavender tells me her diary has some pretty colorful entries about you."

Before Ron could splutter out a response to this revelation, Neville turned to Harry again. "Also, you may want to clip the extra twigs around the base of your broom."

"What? Why?"

One corner of Neville's mouth went down in a frown. "Maybe cut the grass around the snake is more appropriate. Anyway, trimming makes it look better and she'll be a hell of a lot more likely to uh...give it a little pet. If you're lucky, she might even kiss your snake. Lavender really--" He stopped, grinning when he thought of it his own girlfriend. Again, Harry resisted the urge to ask for a detailed explanation of that particular facial expression. Perhaps it was best to wait until he had his own stories to share. Or adequate time to make up some believable game plays.

"Whatever you do, don't use magic to trim," Ron said.

"Why?" Harry asked.

Neville shot a quick look over to Ron before the other boy's face broke into a wide grin. "Just trust me. It's safer."

"You're probably right. With the amount of sleep I've been getting lately, I don't need to take the chance," Harry said. "Have you got any tips for slowing her down when she's trying to play the game so fast you can hardly keep up?"

"I told you he's nuts," Ron said. At Harry's stricken look, he added, "Come on. You're actually complaining about Hermione coming on to you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not complaining. It's just that sometimes, she gets so...enthusiastic, I have to keep reminding myself I can't rip her clothes off and end the teasing. Skip the steps and all that. In the back of her mind, I'm sure she doesn't want to rush, but she has no idea what she's playing with there."

"You can't rip her clothes off?" Ron asked. Laughter peppered his words.

"Wait, stop," Neville said. He quickly thought back to the beginning of their conversation. "I thought you just wanted me to explain the metaphor and tell you what you might be doing wrong. You seriously haven't caught the snitch yet?"

"No," Harry said after a pause. "I thought I'd made that clear. We still have all that feelings stuff to deal with before I can even go there with her."

"That's odd," Neville said. "After the way Professor McGonagall freaked out last term, I really thought you two had--"

Harry shook his head. "We were just kissing. It probably looked bad to Professor McGonagall because we were on the bed, but nothing else happened," Harry said.

"That's kind of funny," Neville remarked. "Lavender's convinced Hermione was lying when she told her the same thing and that's one of the reasons she--" He stopped suddenly and grinned. "I can't say I'm sorry she got her information wrong. Do me a favor and make sure your girl never lets on that nothing more has happened between you."

Harry laughed. "Don't tell me she--"

Neville nodded. "Was quite...enthusiastic about it too. With all of the energy she puts into talking, you wouldn't think she'd have much leftover for anything else, but you'd be dead wrong. I just need Ron to help me out a little by keeping Parvati busy." He chuckled and again Harry marveled at this confident side to his roommate. "The only thing I can recommend to control Hermione is holding her down or something, just not too roughly. Or order her around. Lavender gets a kick out of both. I bet all bossy girls do." Neville shrugged. "I've told you everything useful I know," he said by way of dismissal.

Harry rose from the bed, nodding as he walked away. "Thanks, both of you." They would never know just how much he'd benefited from their help, Harry considered. At his bedside, he reached into his trunk for a parchment and quill. Hermione was going to have a birthday she'd never forget.