Lala

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe!

Inhale, exhale. It's that simple. In.Out.

Hermione stepped off the train. She concentrated all of her energies on breathing normally. She needed to maintain the appearance of normality, because what was going on underneath--on the interior--was anything but normal for Hermione. This abnormal day had started out like any other day of leaving Hogwarts. The students said their goodbyes to the professors--even Snape--and piled onto the train to start off home.

Then, the oddest thing happened. Sometime after Harry and Ron finished one chess game and started another, the students decided that it was time to change out of their robes for the journey through muggle-filled King's Cross. This strange occurrence was decidedly uneventful, and had anyone other than Hermione had noticed, nothing was mentioned.

Most all of the group in that compartment had sensibly worn muggle-appropriate clothing under their robes so that this process would be easier and less awkward on the ride home. Hermione removed her robes, folded them and placed them into her carry on bag and turned to sit down when something caught her eye. In the process of removing his robes, Harry's shirttail caught on the hem of his robes and was momentarily lifted, exposing his hipbone and the clearly defined muscle which arches over it then plunges below the waistband of his pants.

Hermione inhaled sharply. She averted her eyes to the floor of the compartment and its ugly, molded, and worn paisley carpeting. Quickly, she looked back at the place where Harry's skin was exposed. Then, just as quickly as the shirt had lifted, Harry tugged it back into place and sat down again, completely oblivious to the jolt he had just given Hermione's universe.

Hermione's head pounded and the compartment spun around her. She leaned back into the seat, falling silent as she thought about that patch of skin and why it had suddenly taken her breath. Around her, Ginny, Neville, and Harry laughed loudly over Ron's joke about Ron's future as a professional Quidditch player and what he would do with his money. Hermione bit her lower lip and envisioned Harry's hipbone again. Her pulse quickened, her heart pounding beneath her jumper. She breathed deeply and slowly exhaled while thinking about that muscle she had never seen before.

The vision of Harry's hipbone and the muscle resting above it monopolized Hermione's thoughts. She replayed the scene where his shirt is momentarily lifted, then returned to its rightful place. She paused this scene in her head whenever she got to that muscle. Hermione had the uncanny urge to run her fingertip along the indentation between Harry hipbone and that glorious muscle. She wanted to run her finger down that arc then along the waistband of Harry's jeans, barely skimming his skin. She imagined lifting his entire shirttail and examining that newly discovered muscle on both sides of his pelvis and finding precisely how low on Harry's body that indentation goes. Hermione saw herself gingerly sliding her fingertips between his flesh and his waistband, grabbing hold, and yanking him to her. All that lay between Hermione and the rest of that muscle was one button on his Harry's pants...

"Hermione!" Ron yelled across the compartment. Hermione was jolted back to reality and saw the population of her compartment staring at her. "We've been trying to get your attention for ages. What were you thinking about--who will replace Fudge as the new Minister of Magic? We have a running bet that it's Dumbledore. Especially now that The Daily Prophet came out and told everyone that he and Harry had been right the whole time." Ron took another bite of a pumpkin pasty and happily returned to his chess game with Harry. Hermione inhaled and looked over at Harry. He was absorbed in thought contemplating his next chess move. Her eyes moved to his now fully-clothed hip and back up to his face while she tried to understand this new development in her thought-process. She quickly exhaled, however, when she realized that Harry was now looking right at her. They made eye contact briefly before Hermione tore her eyes away from his face. Harry looked at Hermione quizzically. Hermione snatched Ginny's copy of The Quibbler out of her hands and began rapidly rifling through the pages. She felt herself flush under Harry's gaze. She breathed deeply again.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Harry asked, concerned at Hermione's reaction to his friendly smile.

"Mmhmm." Hermione could not bring herself to answer in actual words, much less meet Harry's eyes when she answered. She continued to tear through the magazine, the words blurring in rapid succession as they passed under her nose. Not comforted by the magazine, Hermione grew exasperated, and tossed it back to Ginny. Words had always comforted Hermione. Books, knowledge, research. These were things--definite things--which were comforts in her life. Like her two best friends. Harry and Ron were real. They were definite. Well, at least they used to be definite. Now, Hermione did not know what was going on in her mind, the thing in her life she used to trust the most, when it thought about Harry.

Okay. Harry is not definite anymore. No.

Ron. Ron is still definite. Ron is definite. Definitely.

Hermione looked at Ron. Ron had been watching Hermione, eyebrows raised. She shakily smiled at him. Ron took another bite of his pasty and patronizingly smiled back. He looked over to Harry and shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know either, mate. I think it's finally hit her. She's gone off the deep end. Too many exams, I 'spect." The two boys looked over at Hermione once more and resumed their chess game, intermittently looking over at Hermione as if to check on her. Hermione did not notice, however, as she was too busy thinking about something completely new. She furrowed her brow and tried to regain control of her wandering thoughts. Breathing deeply, she tried to shake a new image from her mind. Gone from her mind was the image of Harry's hipbone and the gracefully arching muscle. This tantalizing image had since been replaced with a new and just as confusing image.

Ron's arms and shoulders.

Wait. When did Ron grow those? He's always been tall and lanky. I know this. I know this because I have spent time looking at Ron. In fact, Ron's tallness is what helped him to succeed at his position as keeper in Quidditch--his ability to reach himself from his broom-- to spread his long limbs in from of those hoops to keep quaffles from flying in. But, now, Ron has shoulders.

Hermione's breaths came in rapid succession. Her head pounded again. The compartment spun around her again. Hermione slowly shook her head, as though she could physically shake the confusing thoughts about Ron's shoulders from her mind. A new scene played in Hermione's mind, monopolizing her thoughts. This time, she saw Ron raising the pumpkin pasty to his mouth to take a bite. However, instead of her focus lying with the pasty, she was mesmerized by the new firmness she saw on Ron's raised arm. His bicep was considerably larger and more toned after his stint on the Gryffindor house quidditch team. In fact, his whole upper body was considerably more toned. Her eyes ran along his arm, examining the effects of so many team practices. She looked at the joining of his nicely toned arm to his nicely toned shoulders and took in the whole effect. His shoulders had hardened and widened in the past year. He looked older and much stronger. Ron looked so much more...solid now. So much more like...a...man.

Hermione remained focused on Ron's strong arms and shoulders. She thought about how strong he must be now. She wondered whether he could do those silly tricks that boys do with their new-found musculature, like crushing soft-drink cans between their biceps and forearms. Hermione wondered what his arms would feel like wrapped around her...protecting her...holding her close to him. She thought about the feeling of his arms encircling her waist, pulling him closer to him, crushing her against his chest...At this proximity, all Ron would only have to tilt his head slightly and he could brush his lips across her neck, shoulders and the tops of her--

The train jolted to a stop, throwing Hermione out of her seat. She looked around the compartment. Everyone else stopped pulling down their bags from the overhead racks to look at her and her less-than-graceful exit from her seat. Harry, Ron, Neville and Ginny had already begun gathering their things as they neared the platform. Hermione, lost in thought, had remained seated while imagining the feeling of Ron's arms around her.

"Er, Hermione, we're at King's Cross now," Ginny said gently to Hermione, who sat in the floor of the compartment, staring up at Ginny with an expression of utter confusion and complete terror. "We are getting of the train now." Ginny motioned toward the door of the compartment where Harry and Ron were standing, holding their bags and watching the scene play out with similar concerned expressions.

"Thank Merlin!" Hermione pronounced, jumping up to snatch down her bag. "I thought we would never get here!" She barreled through the door, shoving Harry and Ron out of her way. She rushed down the corridor to the train and stopped at the exit to the platform. Here, she regained some of her composure before stepping down onto the platform. She reminded herself to breathe and maintain a stance of normality. She didn't dare to imagine Harry and Ron's reactions if she told them what she had been thinking. Ginny would probably wretch with disgust if she knew what had been filtering through Hermione's mind.

Hermione breathed deeply one more time. Harry, Ron, Neville and Ginny had since caught up to her. The group walked together in tense, bewildered silence. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville exchanged confused looks behind Hermione's back. Hermione avoided Harry and Ron's eyes at all costs, almost running herself into Narcissa Malfoy, at whom she scowled. They waited on the signal from the guard and crossed over to muggle King's Cross to be greeted by their families and various members of the Order. Greetings and hugs went round the group as family and friends greeted and comforted each other. The year had been difficult, especially the last week and the terrifying experience at the Ministry. A newer, more intimate bond had grown between the Order, the Weasleys and the Trio.

Hermione smiled and stepped into a friendly hug offered by George. She asked about his and Fred's shop and relaxed in the familiarity of his company. She wrapped her arms around his midsection, exhaling in relief that the parade of confusion had finally passed her by. She could think now. She could breathe and carry on normal conversation. As Hermione pulled out of the friendly hug, her hand grazed George's stomach. She recoiled quickly after she realized how taut and firm George's abs had felt. Under his shirt, George had a washboard stomach. She stared up at him in disbelief, her eyes searching his face for an answer. Hermione felt betrayed. Here was someone who was safe--definitely safe--and he went and turned her on, too. She needed to get away. She needed to escape before she couldn't stop herself from lifting his shirttail and running her fingers across his stomach. Hermione tentatively stepped back, wordlessly mouthing her imaginary reasons for needing to leave the scrum of people at the platform.

She had only taken two steps when she was snatched out of her own mind and into a hug with Fred. Determined not to make the same mistake with Fred as she had with his brother, George, she threw her arms around his neck.

I can't feel abs or fabulous hip muscles or strong arms if I am only touching his neck, right?!? I am safe here. I am safe with Fred.

She smiled up at Fred and told him how great it was to see him after his glorious exit from Hogwarts. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, swinging her around in a circle with his hug. Always the jokester, Fred tried to make Hermione as dizzy as he could. There was no need--Hermione was dizzy enough. She inhaled sharply at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She looked into his eyes to steady herself, but she lost herself even more when he smiled back at her. When Fred tightened his grip around her waist and held her even closer to him, she almost lost herself completely. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist to steady herself against Fred's spinning hug. Hermione wondered how Fred would react if she squeezed his hips with her knees. She thought about the sensation of grinding her pelvis into his, and--

"Down! Down!" Hermione exclaimed, attempting not to scream with fury. She had lost control. Hermione had completely lost control of her thoughts, and it terrified her. "I need down!" Fred set her back down on the platform and tilted his head, looking at her quizzically. "Dizzy. I am too....dizzy." She faked a smile, scrambled to find her bag, and threw her goodbyes over her shoulder, half-running away from the group of people gathered there. She ran head long into Professor Snape, who had exited the train and went to speak with Narcissa Malfoy. His eyebrows shot up when he saw Hermione, panting from lack of breath and bewildered while throwing glances backwards to the group and shaking her head.

"Have a nice holiday, Miss Granger," Snape told her, examining her face, as though he knew all the secrets that lay beneath the surface. Scenes of Harry's exposed hip, the imaginary scenario of Ron wrapping his muscled arms around her, the feel of George's well exercised midsection and the dizziness caused by Fred's mere physical proximity overtook her thoughts. She breathed deeply again, attempting to regain control of her thoughts. She knew Snape was an accomplished Legilimens and the last thing she wanted was to provide him easy access into the tumultuous carousel of thoughts spinning in her mind.

"And, you too, Professor Snape." Hermione replied smiling and attempting to clear her thoughts. Her smile faded, however, when she saw a flicker of recognition behind Snape's eyes. A small smirk crept into Snape's features.

"So, it has happened, has it?" Snape asked Hermione coolly. She raised her eyebrows and looked to him for further explanation, which Snape gave willingly. "The famously cool-headed Miss Granger has experienced her first taste, or should we say tastes, of lust?"

Hermione goggled in bewilderment. Her mouth dropped open as she tried to find the words to tell him exactly how scathingly rude she found him to be, but she was sidetracked by the glint of mischief in his eyes. She closed her mouth quickly and thought about the sorts of mischief in which her potions teacher might participate. A flash of Hermione with her head thrown back and gasping while Snape slowly moved his lips down the side of her neck moved through her mind. Snape's mouth curled into a full-fledged, but balefully wicked, smile. Her first reaction was to scream in exasperation and run away. She opened her mouth to let the contemptuous words fly, but closed it in the same instant.

He was right. She had experienced lust. Hermione lifted her chin and half-smiled at Snape. Her left eyebrow was raised, challenging Snape.

See it. Look into my mind and see what I am showing you. You want to see how I lust? Look and see for yourself.

Snape's face remained cool, calm and unaffected while he undoubtedly watched the string of images that Hermione willfully showed him. She purposefully thought of all the images that had tantalized and confused her all afternoon. She showed Snape her fantasy of unbuttoning Harry's pants and tracing the arc with her fingertip all the way to its end. She showed him how she would re-trace that same path with her tongue. She showed him the way she imagined Ron pressing her into his muscled chest and using one of his strong arms to hold her to him while he used the other to unbutton her blouse and remove it. Hermione licked her lips and narrowed her eyes at Snape, monitoring his reaction to the idea of Ron kissing the tops of her breasts.

Want to see more? I have it. I have it all here inside. Wait, and I will show you.

Hermione ran her right hand along her collar bone and up the same side of her neck that she had seen Snape kissing. She let her hand trail that same path down while she played new images for Snape to see. She showed him how she would shove George's shirttail upward so that she could rake her fingernails across his abdomen. She would bend to her knees and feather kisses across that taut stomach, inching slowly toward his belt buckle.

Snape inhaled sharply. Hermione raised both eyebrows in mock concern. She smirked.

Enough? Have you seen enough yet, Professor Snape?

"Not nearly," Snape replied aloud, "What else could you have left?" The question begged a double entendre. He folded his arms across his chest and shifted his weight, as though settling himself for a long stay in Hermione's thoughts.

Hermione called forth the strongest image thus far. She showed Snape her legs wound around Fred's mid-section. Fred had placed his hands low on Hermione's backside and held her aloft easily. She let out a low, guttural moan as she envisioned grinding her pelvis against Fred's. The firmness of Fred's well-exercised abdomen and the rest of his masculinity pressing against her sent shockwaves through her system. Snape interrupted her thoughts.

"Have you done these things, Miss Granger?"

"Why, no, Professor Snape."

"Do you plan on it? That is to say, would you like to do these things, Miss Granger?"

"I very much believe that I would like to do those things, Professor Snape."

"Very well, Miss Granger. There is one thing about you which is completely average--your fantasies. They are not what I expected from someone who is as extraordinarily perceptive as you seem to be." Snape paused and Hermione turned to leave. "One more thing, Miss Granger. Who will it be? Which of the hormonal nit-wits gathered over there will merit such a prestigious honor?"

Hermione turned to watch the group of her peers. She smiled as the possibilities turned over in her mind.

"Or...could it be someone entirely...different?" asked Snape, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, Professor," Hermione replied turning to him and flashing another image across her mind. Her head was thrown back in passion as Snape traced a line from her chin to the joining of their bodies, bisecting her symmetrical halves. Snape inhaled sharply. "I would have to be under some sort of potion to do a thing like that." She turned on her heel and walked away from Snape and into the loving arms of her parents.